"of fully accepting the implicit, fundamental unity"
ryan pemberton 

I feel for the children
indoctrinated into religion.
I feel for the kids that can't,
won't question faith.

I feel fortunate I wasn't brainwashed
like that.
I feel my thoughts are my own,
I feel the theists have had that
stolen from them.
but I am intact.

when I realise I can't love
a catholic girl with
my everything
and my chest seizes up
when I hear them say grace,
I see I'm not better off
than they are.

in the same way that they have
been tricked to believe in a
celestial monarchy,
and see satan in me
so have I been tricked to see
satan in them.

I hate the church.
I thought I could still love the people.
but you can't hate anything
and still love the people.

and we all
have been rendered incapable
of fully accepting the implicit, fundamental unity
that does not name.

our parents didn't do it,
their grandparents didn't do it.
it started forever ago and it's
never going away.
we could of all loved each other
but we fucked up the axiom.
it's the greatest sin of all,
and it's nobody's fault.

"Freighted silence, implicit tapestries"
WS Warner 

Hearing fogged drops of rain
Precipitate violence in the Amazon,
Against the placid Leaves;
Left disheveled the unfiltered forest.  

Dampness divorced from its thin vapor blur
Plummeting memoirs retold, the cradled
Past returns its own, splintered light
Edging the threshold of infinitude,
Axiomatic slippage each fell cold.

Fallen moisture recovered,  
Once nourished the ancients;
Correspondingly, we align.
Lineal descendants,
Tides of March,  
Sibilant waters flow through us.

Hoary myths, now hallowed imminent.  
Ponderous, our torn skies cleft, clouds suffused in grey─
The emergent pour, casts a montage of
Freighted silence, implicit tapestries
Sewn seamless; our kindred froth ashore.

Pedigreed continuum bound in common plight,
Unseen flood of halcyon
Dust and flesh coalesce beneath the torrent;
Genetic lines merge ─ intersection of
Time and eternity.
From the same water we drink.
Lineal descendants,
Tides of March,
Sibilant waters flow through us.

©2012 W.S. Warner

"A child, a crowd, an implicit word?"
Travis Barefoot 

Water over stone speaks to me
Voices in my head or reality?
Bubbling, babbling, a fluid oration.
From liquid, an opus of reverberation.

Closer I get, speech becomes blurred.
A child, a crowd, an implicit word?
Retreat a step, lucid communique
Desire to immerse, ingest the parley.

Sit between banks in tears from on high
Hear her voice in the brook as I try
To understand, and follow the sentence at hand
A cacophony of silence sifted through sand.

Meaningless, mindless, numbing address
Just what’s so important she’s trying to stress?
Words from the distant, ghostlike, perchance
Wispy and passionate midsummer’s dance.

My ears reject resonance, but the mind draws it in
To decipher the past and perceive an old sin.
Apologetic, pleading, no mold to this play
Just babbling on, with no true thing to say.

Hands growing numb from water’s icy hold
Must leave this brook, for so I’ve been told
That mystery lives in the motion of hearing
Of water’s sweet journey beyond my heart’s clearing.

Flowing water sometimes speaks. The creek on the edge of my property is especially talkative...
"**Implicit No, god-forbid a subtle yes.**"
Charlie Chirico 

It's been one week,
since I told you,
nothing of importance.
But one week,
since you told me,
at all.

How soon I forget,
what it's like,
not to be,
at a person's disposal.
How quickly I remember,
that remembering is,
a bother.

Easy folk enjoy easy listening.
A magnet that draws sound.
Vibrations of different magnitudes.
But visually, all the same:
On a large enough body; what proceeds:
A ripple on water's edge.

Beauties and questions evoked.
Memories that hold vehemence.
Open ears that trickle red.
An eye for an eye.
A tooth for a tooth.
A tit for a tit.
Sour taste, before I spit.

After all that said,
so it goes:

She is left feeling discontent,
because her friend left her behind.
A friendship no longer pragmatic,
left her detached and unkind.
After one move against her,
inadvertently made her the bad guy.

Assimilated ignorance was transferred,
leaving her with raging eyes.
Now a maniac, but once shy.
It started the day she was betrayed,
and her friend left without goodbye.

Friendship turned into a frivolous demise.
She never thought of compromise.

She will always be left on her own will.
Only living each day with empty glare.
While she sits cynically by her window sill.
Reliving old days, and perfecting her stare.

It's been one week,
since I told myself,
nothing of importance.
But one week,
since I've asked questions,
and have realized that,
in your twenties,
you are partial to saying 'No.'

Implicit No, god-forbid a subtle yes.

You know yourself.
You want to know yourself.
You hope that you know yourself.

In the scheme of it all,
the dirty shopping mall,
the empty alleyways,
piss and trash,
looking down at laced shoes,
transcends society's social boundaries.

Those little moments at the end of the day,
that make you smile,
are the reason you should not become frustrated.
It would be the same,
as letting a long car ride ruin a vacation.
Thinking short-termed has never led to outstanding goals,
only temporary satisfaction.

Life is short,
but it is long enough to learn how to pick battles.
There are far more important things to worry about,
than ill intent with loved ones,
or even strangers.

If someone steps on your shoes,
let it go.
Use that frustration to better yourself,
and when you can,
buy better shoes,
and walk a mile in them.

"but everything is implicit"
Raj Arumugam 

Recently prolific
Writing reactions

Yeah, not prolific producing babies
or sowing wild oats
Just this unimaginative, pedestrian activity:
Writing reactions
Still prolific at my age….

No, no, no - me no explicit…
don’t have the balls to be that
but everything is implicit
like if I write about some aspect of life
it’s all there:
the routine, sex, violence, and so on
isn’t everything implicit?

New and popular

how about the
New and Unpopular

OK, I like this guy or gal,
and so I click on LIKE
and the next time I look at it
it says: LIKED
Hey, I still LIKE her!
Look, I still LIKE him!
And why can’t I click on LIKE on my own page?
What’s the matter, can’t I like myself?
Is that a strange notion –
Don’t you guys and gals like yourselves?

Just tongue-in-cheek...
Just for fun…site people don't get upset or worse pissed off, OK?
"Or deny his implicit wrongs as a result of all original sin."

Silly, silly, silly me.
To think I'm free, and that I'll be somebody?

Silly, silly, silly me.
You can't be free, and that's just it,
All you are is 'somebody.'
"Some body."

But that's not true!
Look at Trostky and Lenin,
Michael Myers and Lennon,
The other Lennon.
It's hard to differentiate in name and legacy,
Because both Lennon's were revolutionaries,
Marching around like the freshman from heaven.
But neither believed they were the result of divine intervention in the affairs of man,
Because this convention would threaten their worldview and beckon away their sanity...
In the same way that the Pope or Hitler let their divine vanity commit greater blasphemy and bring them future agony.

Now neither Lennon nor Lenin came anywhere close to being men from Galilee,
In fact they were more the men of the galaxy,
Or at least, John was, with his peach fuzz beard and his belief that love is greater than fear.
The other Lenin implemented the New Economic Policy, to starve the proletariat and start his revolution on an already hypocritical trend that would continue quite the same until the very end.
And it proves something, does it not?
Violence sends a message to no one but the instigator,
Changing them to justify, and claim is wasn't misbehavior;
But that's a lie, no idea of mine is worth the death of a human mind,
And to pretend otherwise makes one delude themselves that they aren't an instigator, but an illustrator,
Painting in the blood as if murder makes an innovator.

And for murder, there is no vindicator,
Violence is an image breaker,
Indulged in by poor imitators who think they're right, and the world is wrong.
Unaware this makes them weak, not strong.

Now John Lennon was the true revolutionary;
Although he succumbed to violence, he veered away from it, even when it was necessary.
He fought the war, and yes, the war did win,
But at least he didn't cover his scars with artificial skin,
Or deny his implicit wrongs as a result of all original sin.

John Lennon used the word 'nigger' to the opposite effect.
He used the word to trigger something bigger and correct,
The wrong that seemed so propagated by the last colonial tide,
Of which the other Lenin defected and took colonialism's side.

John Lennon was Utopian and told us of a better world;
He interjected definition, and caused old thoughts to curl away in fright,
And bite the dust despite their might and past dominion of industrialism,
It was a schism, and it still plagues us to this day.

John Lennon understood we over-complicate way

Silly, silly, silly me.
To think I'm free, and that I'll be somebody?

Silly, silly, silly me.
You can't be free, and that's just it,
All you are is 'somebody.'
"Some body."

"Some body" is something,
And some body can change the world.

"except implicit unity"

the sounds of a crowded cafe
ca-caw! like a crow, everybody's crowing something
each a beautiful story dressed in winter hop-scotch
or a poorer story dressed in a business suit.

who knows
perhaps it's like a rich chocolate covered in a wrapper
and that business suit is to be peeled off soon
enjoy the sweet treat underneath

but I can always tell when someone is selling themselves
because they look like a city map
drawn to design

I guess try-hards are alright when they polish like diamonds
except the beauty of a diamond is not faked
the beauty of the diamond hides itself underground, to show that the deeper you go
the greater it gets

so why manicure?
why manicure, Mr. Business Cowardly,
are you afraid of yourself?

- - -

I probably moved on in observation a few moments later when I realized the pretty girls across the way whom I used to go to high-school with
never did I once speak with them
I felt no need
because I knew they manicured themselves to avoid the fact that the diamonds underneath were either hidden away to be kept for themselves
or just
never there?

the wailing baby is the bravest
the wailing baby is the greatest
the wailing baby understands the grand stand by remaining unstood

fine, fine wailing baby
you are God and you already know it
but get ready to forget because Mr. Cowardly Business
and Mrs. Manicured Face will eat you too
and leave you soulless until you're soulful

the daily drain of the soul into an unholy grail.

let the world sip from the cup like a poisonous water
I'm still thirsty, don't drink it all yourself!

- - -

that serious face of beauty
rock-hard, dead-eyed beauty
I wear it too and I'm probably ashamed but I'm not sure yet.

- - -

just a little jittery from the jut-cliff of caffeine
ah, ah, aahhhh, it makes me thirsty to live.

ah, ah, ahhh, what lovely visions upon seeing
appearance vs. reality
appearance is reality
appearance is
pardon me I need to piss.

- - -

at least somebody cares
but stop pretending cus I know you're too scared
to admit it.

- - -

christmas decorations already
I guess that makes sense if you're trying to
your net


- - -

pretty face you wear
fuck you for hiding your pretty face

- - -

do I qualify as some cultural absurdity
considering I'm sitting here
sipping coffee
writing poems
baby blue toque
comfy-patterned sweater?

what's better?

- - -

these dash-breaks don't annotate much
except implicit unity

yes, you know me.

- - -

not really sure
what to think
about that one

or that one

or that one


- - -

one of the men in a business suit
describes this place as

but quiet.

maybe he's not so
Mr. Cowardly Business

maybe I judged him over the

Next page