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WS Warner Nov 2013
Part One
Nascent Craving

The insular heart unsealed; pearled eyes
Breach parapets of stone— periled shield,
The sweetest ****—
A threatening wonder and irrefragable synergy,
Nervous routes of cognition  
In this nascent, amorous craving.
Locked and abased,
Dissonance lends pathos — euphoric and onerous,
Disconsolate cries curb sublimation,
The regnant bleed diffusing — fervid lust
Fondled, tactile surfaces in throbbing anticipation.

Sullen, aft a veil of laughter,
Visceral aftermath, out of
The ardent ash,
Burns a thirst;
Insuperable numbness and ache.
Efflorescent intimacy,
Table for two
Enraptured in new alliance,
Élan vital (psyche);
Urgent dialect petitions
Equivocation, jocularity blending
Provocation with indecision,
Noted lilt of descending inhibition.

Adrift, the incessant Now;
As occasion inexorably diminished;
Resonant simpatico tending,
Numinous amity;
Heard conversant, cognitive idioms—
Lassitude, time-eaten pangs of the unhinged heart,
Wounds axiomatic,
In disquieting synergy,
Nibbling, the circumference—
Misery’s permeating truth;
None immune, all trundle incongruously past,
Facing intrepid savages.

Licitly felt, reverberations of Amor
Whence the heart behaves;
Measured cadence, pulse elevating—
Treasured lover, contemplative muse;
Undulating clasp, inflated bone of absence;
Incarnation — a woman,
Beyond prosaic;
Ineffable adoration pours in certitudes of verse,
Elenita, enclothed —virtue unvarnished;
Reservoir intrinsic, poised advocate of the innocent:
The crooked lines of insolence,
Brazen culture of neglected youth.
Perceptive blue stare, sensitized tears—
Plaintively, evincing her injustice ago.

Part Two
Tendered Senses

Siren silence, eruptive blush, ampler between phrases
In dulcet tones — stirring discourse;
Foments rebellion, the strife beneath— his ****,
Out of its vast reserve,
Penetrate the narrowed ambit, vaguely announced.
Groping hands, migrating the sensual member
Stern faces grimacing— mirror in abrasion,
Under the blind surf of consent;
Burrowing ambiguity, emerging torsion,
Plunge, enlisted and content in the sea;
Subsumed in the nonverbal cue,
Persuasion’s plea,
Quelled in the post cerebral assent.

Piercing eyes parallel crystalline waters of Lake Tahoe.

An untouched portion of his awareness remains aloof,
Palpable in the subsequential quiet,
Obsequious and febrile, they sinned on sofas;
Peregrine predilections quenched and viscid—
Serenely requited, the room breathes her presence,
Limp, figures *******, mantled in adolescent torpor.

Erudition in bloom, trust undoubted,
Illuminating, satiating; tempest calm—
Under canvas
Terrain soaked and sodden,
Postliminary — rains of invalidation.
Allowance and permission
Recalibrate, salivate, shortly only—
Initiate, obliged consecration, appraising
Curvatures of the spine,
Stuns him obeisant, her femenine pulchritude,
Propinquity inciting vigor,
Emergent allure, the updriven
Tower of wood sprung from the blanket.


Suffused in ether, purring streams of remembrance
Vaginal honeyed dew, sung into
Orchids, remnants of remember;
Drenched down the cynosure of devotion;
Succulent view, diaphanous pantied bottom;
Halcyon mist, saporous wine — compliance of the will,
Freed fires wander,
Pliable rind, twin plums dripping,
Abject confession, dispatching doubt
In tendered senses,
Pivotal tree, lavender Jacaranda holds the key,
Unfurled, cindered vulnerability.

Half-denuded skin invites confessional savor
Acutely bubbled rear, fleshly furnished denim;
Sultry visit, San Ramon Valley in the fall,
Strewed limbs splendid, flowing filmy;
Imagination yields—
Bursting silk congealed
Across deft thighs, ambrosial thong draping ankles,
Grazing ascension, the curvaceous trajectory
Nose inflamed with fragrance,
Inhaling, climb of acquiescence,
The ****** weal, amid the globed fruit,
Focal intention — ploughed lance thrusting,
Absconding, the ancillary perfume of essence.

Perceiving avid validation,
Swimmingly, amid the monstrous gaze.
  
Humid skies simper dank, set swell the incense of Eros,
Surge of poetry engorged
The flame levened shaft,
Nimble ******* flounce, spill the harboring mouth;
Moist hands merging, unfettered,
Weave in supplication,
Vicinity voicing, enmeshed diversion;
Supple and spherical behind
Posterior arch, milky-skin against the lip—
Ripeness jostling their complacency;
Lapped the mooring, ridden decisively;
Recapitulating— spumed forth, bellied over hips warmth.
Abandon the dirge of self-pity
Late under ego’s trance.
  
Part Three
Present Tenses

Tempting trespass across sacred gardens,
Flowering, scandal set luminous: attachment—
Consensual, their corresponsive fear;
Protean manifestations— evocative, perpetual
Unutterable contention in a fictive resolve,
Deliberating the merits of their widely disparate tastes in coffee,
Amorously touring wine, let’s drowse through the gnarled vine.
Sundry deficiencies pale, once contrasted;
The beatific vision—
Material substance unaccompanied,
Imperceptible, tear-streamed cheeks in synch,
Ventral kiss, peak of carnal perfection,
Reminiscence— flesh violent with Love.

Fiction knew to meander the innominate rift,
A tincture of irony soften misdeeds
Immense as the sea.
Insolvent beast stippled with sapience—
Unmasked, the fabric of delusion;
Dependence smothering the disciplined heart
Resentment put up for release.

Waste of residual years
Fate’s apportion, scars bleakly observed;
Chastened by heartache, engulfing fervor
Too faint to recapture.
Vague glimpses dry—
Hypervigilant his defenses,
Veritable suspensions, embers lit linger;
Slender walls of solidity, the horizoned self,
Faith and reason in concert — stone levels of elucidation.

Fractured bones of distance, emanate a rigid salience,
Another ponderous night of absence—
Lingering, cauldron of dearth as indifference ushers,
The quotidian coil of contrition.
Tearful pallor, sequestered —ciphering time and solitude;
The unkissed mouth, his restive brow;
Suspend in the approximate span.
                      
After Lucid alliterations are spoken
Devoid of her face, his lover’s nudge—
The man nurtures his hurt.

Anxious as seldom unscarred,  
Venus’s susurrations,
In present tenses,
Kissed by her serenades of integration—
Notwithstanding metaphysic intrusion,
No chain stays unbroken,
Postponed drifts of deferment left unspoken,
Reverberations of amor.

© 2013 W. S. Warner
To Eileen
Wake me from this mask of opaque dreams
Cryptic in their defective cause
Suspend the flutter of my pointless adoration
For all these defensive walls

Eliminate delusions and impetuous desires
Which provoke my spirit negatively
Induce exhilarating fervor in my waking dreams
Softly apportion the one inside of me

Deliver patience as you listen for my nearness
Impart no distresses here
Reconsider any mendacious notions
Do not claim me in your fears

Show compassion as my eyes are open wide
Not suspicious and yet so knowing
Take heed in your watch as sometimes I stumble
In my attempts to get where I am going
Copyright *Neva Flores @2010
www.changefulstorm.blogspot.com
www.stumbleupon.com/stumbler/Changefulstorm
Big Virge Dec 2016
These Days It's CLEAR .... !!!  
That Mind Control Is On A Roll ... !!!  

Because LOST Souls Now Live In ... "FEAR" ... !!!!!  

FEAR of THIS And ... FEAR of THAT ... !!!
FEAR of Thinking They've Been TRAPPED ... !!!

Most Minds Now Find Themselves In ... "Binds" ...  
That Are Designed To ... "KEEP Them BLIND" ... !!!!  
  
Blind To Thoughts EXPOSING FRAUDS ...  
Like Bogus Wars On Foreign Shores ...  
  
Most Minds It Seems Are Getting WEAK ... !!!  
And Choose To SLEEP ...
Like DORMANT Breeds of Human Beings ... !!!  
  
So The Question Is ...... ?  
  
... " What CONTROLS Yours " ... ???  
  
A Pair of Lips That OPENS Doors ...  
Or Those That SPLIT Because They're ****** ... ?!?  
  
See Many Slip Because They're QUICK ...  
To *** A Chick Who's QUICK To LICK ...  
ANY ***** Named **** And Have His Kid ... !?!  
  
Because They Know Their ***** Hole ...  
CANNOT Control The Mind of A Bloke Who CAN'T SAY No ... !!!
  
You See ... That's The Way The Story Goes ...  
When You LACK CONTROL Around PROFESSIONAL **'s ... !!!!!    
  
In Some It's The Past That's Marked Their Card ... !!!  
Because A Person They LOVED CLEARLY BROKE Their Heart ... !!!  
  
But ACTING TOUGH ...
Is NOT The Stuff That Helps You Grow ... !!!  
Beyond ............................................... What CONTROLS ... !!!!!  
  
It's Tough I Know To Let Things Go .............................................  
Things From The Past That Have HIT You HARD ... !!!!  
  
ESPECIALLY When You Tried Your BEST ...  
To Do What's Right And Be ... " DIGNIFIED " ...  
  
ANGER You Hold KEEPS You CONTROLLED ...  
And UNABLE To Then Pass GO And .... Old PAIN Road ... !!!!!  
  
FREE UP Yourself ... Otherwise GET HELP ... !!!!!  

Knowledge of Self And Cards You've Dealt ...  
  
IMPROVE Your Chance of Being SMART ...  
And Letting PAIN ... Just DRIFT AWAY ..................................  
  
It's A FOOL Who Displays IGNORANT Ways ... !!!  
Because of FEARS They KEEP Like EARS ...  !!!  
Next To Their Brain Driving Them INSANE ... !!!!!  
  
Because They Know When The TRUTH Unfolds .......................  
That Lies That HOLD Will BETRAY Their Soul ...  
Because They're Meek And CLEARLY Weak ... !!!!!  
Because of LIES ... They Choose To KEEP ... !!!  
  
FEAR It Seems ... of Being ALONE ...  
Also CONTROLS ... BOTH Young And Old ... !!!  
To The Point Where Some Choose To ... " Run Their Gums " ... !!!
  
About Men Like ME ...  
  
"You're MILITANT Virge, and you go too far !"  
  
Are Of Course The Words Some Choose To Impart ...  
Which I Guess Is Because I DON'T Dwell In The Past ... !!!  
  
Is It Me Whose Lost And CONTROLLED Like DARTH ... ?!?

Because of ANGER Felt From The Cards I've Dealt ... !!!  
... Well My Answer Is NO ... !!!  
  
I DON'T Do Coc' ... !!!  

So Am NOT Controlled By Chemical Dope ... !!!!  
Or Controlled By HATE Because of My Race ...
Or Because of My Weight So What Ya' Gonna Say ... ?  
  
... " What controls Big V !?! " ...
  
.... NOT A GOD ****** Thing .... !!!
But My Wish To Be FREE Like My Poetry ... !!!    
  
There Are A Few Controls That Are Now IMPOSED ...  
To Which I'll Abide But Here Is WHY ... !!!  
  
Because of PEOPLE LIKE YOU ...  
Who Choose To ABUSE ... The Rules of The Game ... !!!  
DON'T Apportion Blame And Then Aim It MY WAY ... !!!  
When What You Say ... PROVES You're NOT STRaigHt ... !!!!
  
STRAIGHT With YOURSELF ...  
About The Cards You've Dealt That Affect Your Health ... !!!!!  
  
I'm NOT The Type To Say ... " I Told You So " ... !!!
  
I'm The Type of Guy To Let You KNOW ...  
About How I Feel So I ... " Keep It REAL " ... !!!  
  
Well ....
REALER Than Fools Who Choose To ABUSE ... !!!
  
Those Dealing In TRUTH ... !!!!  
Because They REFUSE To Look In The MIRROR ...  

Like Michael Said ....  

Well When You Do You Should Just ... Simmer .....................  
And CONTROL Your Head ...  
  
NO Drugs Or Thugs or Thoughts of Love ...  
Or Being Alone Should EVER CONTROL ...  
  
CLEAR Thinking ..... NO ... !!!!!  
  
It's Worked For Me ...  
No Matter What I've Seen ... !!!  
  
IGNORANT Women ... IGNORANT Men ...  
Loss of Life And YES ... " Pain and Strife " ... !!!!!  
  
But Throughout These Times My STRENGTH of MIND ...  
Has Kept Me PRIMED To Do What's WISE ...  
And NOT ACCEPT New Laws That Want ...

..... " CONTROL of THOUGHT " ..... !!!
  
Because These Laws Are FLAWED .... !!!  
  
In This I Am ... QUITE SURE ... !!!!!!  
  
So The Question I Now ... " Court " ...  
  
Is .............  
  
... " What's Controlling YOURS ? " ...
So many controls and control freaks gaining power & influence, an old piece but pretty relevant right about now ....
Cunning Linguist Jun 2014
Most urgent:
First we debase this worthless currency,
To usher in impending new world order
Imprisoning the globe
Then bathed in ignorance
(
Fluoridation* retarding cognitive development)

More the merrier but I transcend borders
because my mind has no barriers
Spinning diction with volatile volition
Enchanting your brain into submission

A cheese-grater to the pineal gland
Inhibiting ability to dream,
Impassioned creativity &
inquisitiveness at an impasse,
Expertly contrasting
Inquisition with inability to produce
dimethyltriptamine
Because the pacified sheep
can't sleep away their passiveness
Mass devastation for the kids & family!

Slam it down with a gra(in/m) of (bath) salt
Better yet, sugar and McDonald's
Let Ronald wash your mind in city water
Dang, there's nothing outrageous
about meandering naked
Lusting to eating someone's face
these days, is there?
(Passed out on the asphalt)

Who bares the fault,
Who cares the most?
I know you planned it Mr. President,
take your nuclear launch codes
Atop your throne with your Zionist cohorts
Fake a breath, then flip the switch
Now you am become Death
3.  
2.  
1...
Default the planet

Where's your ******* conviction?
Digest my words and eat your fat *** to death Amerika

Mind your fate
The Devil's gates
Just a step away

So take the chip beneath skin
6 6 6
Pick up sticks,
Gather a whole bundle
& Light yourself on fire (******)

Crackpot conspiracy
How can you not see
Our country's interests inherently
sit in the pockets of Nazis?

Don't even get me started on television;
hypnotized sheep
mass-media gives me aneurysms
Is the Lord truly your shepherd
or do you always stumble so blindly?

Military-Industrial-Machine
Gobbling resources at breakneck speed
CONSUME CONSUME CONSUME
FAT CAPITALIST PIGS!!

You make me feel like vomiting.

Simply waiting for the bomb
to come bump uglies with the ***** of Babylon

NOW WATCH ME GET
~ULTRASONIC~
AS I DROP
ATOMIC ELBOWS
FROM THE TOP ROPE
TO THE THROAT
IN HOPES YOU CHOKE


Leaves a bad taste in your mouth,
did I tell a ***** joke?
(Haha-ha)
GARGLE SOAP *****,
YOUR LIFE'S HOPELESS

If you like beer & NASCAR gimme a hell yeah!*  (hell yeah!)
If you like bacon & pole-dancing gimme a hell yeah!

**** THIS REPUBLIC
DYSTOPIAN,
FLOWING WITH
NECRO-DESPOTISM
A COY ACT OF VENTRILOQUISM,
ON THE WORLD'S STAGE

Tangled like a marionette in its strings,
An insect in spiderwebs
Festering infection
Just keep using band-aids ;)

Take these cocktails
of famine, death, pestilence + plague
Questionably mixed with a little apathy
and self-delusion it's all the rage

The miasma of death
Clung and hung to their silhouettes
like cigarettes
The hands of the clock
tick-tocking away the seconds toward oblivion
In which I carry, reckless abandonment

*insert some wrath of God,
explosions of nuclear & biblical proportions,
then apportion some cataclysm
Sit back,
Listen to the wailing screams of panicking children
******* lay waste to this rock already,
this organic prison
And each and every organism
that dwells within it's ecosystems


All this to bring
A radical new utopia
not for you & me
but them, the Elite
and their heathen families


Behold a new dawn;
On the verge of 100% synthetic conversion
Mind, body, & soul as pawns
Data corrupted, perverted by total divergence
Illusion of free-will ruptured and gushing,
until microscopic then atrophied

Misanthropic singularity
Quantum computing
and nanotechnology
Existentially creating cyborg zombies
& Making gods rise from machines
Kinda deus ex machina style,
But nothing Isaac Asimov could machinate even in his wildest dreams

To me, a fitting end to humanity
The Great White Ape silently weeps
Still waiting for a Messiah
*a refined repost of an earlier draft

If this poem provokes interest I strongly recommend you research the long term effects of water fluoridation, the role it plays in calcification of the pineal gland, as well as the role it played in **** concentration camps.
The **** agenda is alive and well carried out in the 20-21st century through puppet America.
Society is the world's grandest pyramid scheme.
Open your mind, and open your eyes
http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Operation_Paperclip
Temitope Popoola Oct 2013
I don't know what you could call this exactly,
I was at a musical concert in one of the states
And a school filled with children of less than 13 years of age
Presented a song which I could call a petition.
They were praying earnestly for God to save Nigeria
From lawless people, bloodshed, assassination and a list of other wreckless things
It touched me that finally, it has gotten to this! When children start to file a petition to God against our leaders saying for their sake God should save the nation
It's a bit disturbing that even the kids know that there is a problem with this nation.
Do we have to ridicule ourselves forever? The children who were in the ***** and groins some years back have come to understand the situation and are crying out.
The educational standard is falling to pieces and the threads would have to be carefully woven together if we wanna make something out of it again.
It's embarrassing to know that there are so many sectors that has failed, absolutely nothing is working.  
Our leaders still apportion blame. Roads are not good and then you get to hear one is a federal road one is state owned. Does it matter who owns the road if it is in their country?
Why aren't everyone looking beyond their noses and see what's wrong. Our youths have resolved to fraud when hard work and talents aren't appreciated.
Universities have been shut down for months now in the name of strike and the government officials could afford to eat and carry on their daily activities!
Aren't they meant to be in the hospital, complaining of one illness or the other as a result of the unrest the matter has caused? Disheartening! Even the hospitals go on strike and innocent people are left to die as a result of no medical attention.
I was moved to tears when these children sang. The nation's unrest and matters have become prayer points in all places of worship. God should indeed look down from His throne, have mercy on us and save Nigeria!
The children sang this word
"God save Nigeria
God save Nigeria
From wicked people,
From bloodshed,
From assasination,
From lawlessness,
For the sake of the children oh Lord,
Save Nigeria. "
Julian Jan 2016
Gruesome blister on a denatured mind
Chimes rumble the anchored soul foggy with Elysian wine
Flippant ruse ignites a battered fuse rusty with malevolent impotence
Blustery portents beyond expired extent throngs the chapels and pickets along the electrified fence
That separates the grave from the gravity of a physics enslaved
A physics where disillusioned mathematics and decay are as sure as taxes and the last earthen day
Nescient of giant leaps our stepwise ascension is helical and cheap
It snails along with unctuous repetition of pendulous rhythm and sails biologically with evolved and animated meat
The advent of acid and bass is a keepsake for the epicurean chase
Of a fulgurant galvanization of phases that remain unfazed
Trends punctuate vain diversions and lionized conversions both raise and raze
The velocity of money ensures a melliferous alchemy of a well-oiled plutocracy buffered by praise and pay
Ivory-tower elegance is immune to demotic ignorance
When the shot-callers devise the rules to the game with impenetrable clandestine eloquence
Hebetude and lassitude sink abundant platitude and offer trite prescriptions for useless attitudes
But the vogue of disembogued vanity entraps individualism and trains martial raillery
Trends tantalized by preening epigamic tens makes the roosters become owls that neglect nest egg hens
Fatuous ambush of the Kardashian putsch is as clockwork as Big Ben
Murky lies appear in flimsy disguise suitable for mice “say cheese” demise
Privacy cries and answers only lurk accessibly when spurred by wise “why’s” never asked when garish time flies
Tweets and beats make us obese with threadbare wheat cultivated by nescient bleats
Beatific ambition obscured by the wail of sheepish sheep
Outnumbered by obtuse angels and a cute horde of meretricious dissolution that ever wrangles
The shelter turns to rubble and the cloister turns to bustle: useful convolution thus entangles
Agorophilia defiles a voiceless lechery on speed dial
Disembodied violence sprints a green mile bankrolled by the peaceful throngs slowed through the paid but dilatory turnstile
Thus we loiter in queue as the slew of vibrant militarized celerity taxes our pews
Pews which enthuse jingoism eager to apportion sentient deaths through religious abuse
We can surf beams of light chasing verisimilitudes of diversion bright
Of unwagered immersion gambling a pittance for vicarious thrills and riskless fright
To discover the vestige of war, a useless artifact of sore egos we now deplore
An enormity of unmoored evil percolating apace of the paradoxical rush hour from shore to shore
But more decisively than an implacable brush fire on pristine ground abetted by sleek star-crossed winds that soar
Irenic ignorance placates, because a vagrant vacant mind is more a felicity than a bellicose grimy crease
Because excess corrodes squinty detests, and partial enslavement is both a rest and arrest to earth’s untenanted lease
Decries the devolution of pop culture that transmogrifies people into sheep and then makes them sheepish over their peccadillos. It also bashes war as a callous mechanism of useless death. It concludes by asserting the paradox that the throngs in real life slow our movement but we can move at light speed through technological implements. It concludes that useful idiots are irenic if also disheartening. In the earlier sections it laments that materialistic monism is taking over because science has made us deterministic and thus blind to the numinous beyond that staggers beyond our comprehension. It addresses how we are silently monopolized by artful esoteric chess masters immune to trifling quibbles, and how distracted society has become with respect to digital plasticity and consumerist disfiguration spurred on by fatuous and meretricious values. It further satirizes the effigy of modern culture deliberately disfigured with grandiloquence to deploy resourceful linguistic invention. I hope you enjoy this piece!

Here is a response I posted on another poetry site with respect to this poem. It explains the emblems, themes, philosophical agenda and metaphors of this poem so that more people can appreciate the level of meticulous care I preen with my craft
“I understand the charge of hyperbole, that was unintentional. It is an epiphenomenon of protean grandiloquence ( multi-pronged connotations suffering entropy through translation) crafted to emblazon lurid imagery and to conceal arcane mystery with an emphasis on cadence. When you use big words it is inevitable that some words chosen connote more strongly than you originally hoped for when writing it initially. Also, it was not designed to be solely a scathing harangue bemoaning the decadence and anomie endemic to this zeitgeist. You should read the final four or five lines (after I lambasted how war makes human life unnecessarily disposable for expedient aims). In those lines I marvel at miracle of technology wizardry and insinuate that in modern times we can wager much less to gain the same thrills we would have risked life and limb for before. Instead of a bottlenecked turnstile of industry that admits one person at a time like when entering an amusement park (the sluggish pace of premodern industry) to fund the clunky and internecine annihilation operated through rapid-fire death ( “Disembodied violence sprinting ‘the green mile’ A.K.A. a prisoner’s last walk before execution). The pace of society is a central theme of the poem throughout. The gravity of a physics enslaved implies the dilatory and dismal apprehension of a universe moving at an infinitesimally slow rate. A helical and cheap evolution mediated by animal meat snails along throughout history only to precipitate the exponential acceleration of human progress witnessed more recently after the advent of language. The rate of speed (the velocity of money line) is the lifeblood of all culture and all entertainment but it has become such a blur that it obscures the inveterate values of a leisurely stroll rather than a hedonistic galloping gallivant. Ironically, the plutocracy depends on gradate—(thus slow enough to lull people into the “say cheese” mousetrap (privacy eradication)—cultural devolution (clockwork like Big Ben to me evokes the imagery of a slowly ticking clock, a fixture and emblem of the proctor of the old world domineering over newfangled world prospects). Pop culture centered in the Anglophonic world depends on a rapid velocity of vagary blustery with money inuring people to fast-paced changes that abide by slow-moving subterfuge( the Kardashian putsch). The word ambush in that sentence implies that the encroachment of hegemons depends on a furtive approach solidified by an alacritous leap at the heartstrings of mankind in a moment of brinkmanship. The mousetrap is the slow roll but steady bet “say cheese demise”. The irony is that the only way this plan could work is because “wise why’s are never asked when garish time flies. This bewilderingly rapid pace is also the mechanism whereby sheltered obtuse angels are desensitized by breakneck cultural celerity that disabuses their naivety thus leading to useful convolution (paradigm shift). But there is also a lament that “meretricious wranglers” could lead to unmoored decadence bewildered by a smug agnostic relativism tethered to nothing more than the culmination of momentary fads reverberating in a plangent delay chamber like a finely crafted sound effect in a musical production program. The poem ends optimistically by concluding war is a vestige and concedes that partial enslavement (PC culture) is irenic precisely because it shepherds pedestrian considerations predictably in order to secure a stalemate. The Earth’s Untenanted Lease is thus arrested by counterbalanced nuclear specters. This leads to a rest and also an arrest of territorial claims. There is so much deliberate and emblematic imagery deployed here, drenched with subconscious enrichment that is unintended. A perfunctory interpretation of this piece misses so many astute cultural commentaries. The poem ends on a relatively positive note. The final several lines announce war as a vestige but concede that peace is built upon a latticework of acquiescent sheep indoctrinated to despise the past rather than learn from it (this goes slightly beyond what is directly stated). This poem in essence is about the ironic dynamics of history at the intersection of our modern cultural identity.
mvvenkataraman May 2010
Face the task, do not retreat
Silently perform your portion
With hope let heart be replete
Success to you God will apportion
Taste life whether bitter or sweet
This will help in peace-promotion
Bad comments make all very sad
Mad attitude must not be had
Glad thoughts to peace of mind add
Calmly if duty if you discharge
Peace will steadily flow
Against you none can charge
Even if you are very slow
Scope for success is really large
This fact you must surely know.

M V VENKATARAMAN
If we work calmly, We can proceed firmly. If we silently perform, Joy and peace we can form. A quiet attitude proves we are shrewd.
topaz oreilly Jun 2012
In New Brighton,
in the Wirral they gently laugh at
anyone who thinks the Beatles
could be bettered
Still to this day I think
The Big Three's " Some other Guy"
was the better version.
In Stoke, dear Staffordshire
they apportion YMCA mentors
to the homeless teenage kids
who haven't yet navigated
the logistical hub of the new Potteries,
yet can only dream of open spaces
where weeds will flourish
Trentham Gardens being  one.
Each of us would agree
there's a nuance in self preservation,
only recently carried to extremes by the vitriolic
of the late Summer Riots
whose fiefdom cry
"preponderant re-distribution"
turned England over.
to serve their generals
the soldiers file in
clouds of trepidation
apportion their skin

the harsh front of battle
will test their resolve
mistakes and errors in battle
their generals wont absolve

unto the job of killing
the soldiers must forward
their generals holding
the dominant swords

the soldiers are at
their generals behest
and must muster nerve
out front of the quest
Raj Arumugam Oct 2010
now I, Anton, eldest and wisest,
I, nature-appointed leader by age and time,
I call this our first meeting to order
and each shall stand in silence as I read
out the rules and regulations
of this our BOYS ONLY order of OLD RUSSIA,
which I, as my first act as leader, shall name
the Anton Boys Only Group, the name obviously after myself…
And now, Artem stand still and stand at ease as Vladimir here is…
This pose with legs like a soldier's
and with hands at back, back in palm,
this is the way of the obedient follower
though I fear Artem may have a bit of Napoleon in him…
But Anton Boys Only Group we shall be
and in the streets we are destined to meet…
Now for the rules:
I am the leader and I’m always right;
you are the members of the group,
and you will always follow…
now, girls will not be allowed in this group
and no one is to come with any girls
here except me, with Galina once in a while
as she has recently been winking at me in class,
when I do attend class, that is,
and she has sent me notes
to meet her in the old shed past the fields
and once in a while, as I say,
she might be here on our way to said
location during which time
you will all keep guard
and remain as still as the Kremlin guards
or, as I’ve heard, the guards outside
****** England’s Buckingham palace.
Now, Viktor and Georgy, you are hereby fined five coins
for taking a casual attitude while I speak…
Artem, the tallest here after me,
you will be my bearer and cleaner
like carrying things I might have to carry
and dusting my coat before and after meetings
and for which I shall nominate you successor
should I run away with Galina to America…
We shall, however, always remain faithful to Mother Russia
and send you back information as and when necessary;
and also at each meeting, from hence,
each of you will bear gifts for the leader
(who, let me remind you, is myself)
like an apple, a tomato, eggs and sweets
and chicken pieces and such
as and when possible
but always at least one gift each
at each meeting as payment for the privilege
of my leadership;
and meetings will start promptly and be canceled as I wish;
and Vladimir and Bogdan and Andrey
you shall before each meeting, finish such field tasks
as my mother may have assigned me
and which I may then justly apportion to each one of you…
I do not anticipate any questions at this stage our first meeting
and so I announce this meeting over…
And Artem, you might want to dust the coat on my back…
but kindly do ensure your hands are clean first…
companion picture: The Meeting by Marie Bashkirtseff (1884)
Paul M Chafer Mar 2016
Are we to blame for what we do?
Can we help what we do? Can we?
Maybe, maybe not, we would suffer,
Oh yes, you think you miss me now?
You never know love, not really,
Until it is removed, forbidden,
Taken away far beyond reach,
Only then do you see, finally see,
Once you have lost that which you had,
Or even imagine you have lost it,
Only then do you understand,
How much you cared, cherished,
Adored, depended upon, needed,
That illicit love, that yearned for love,
The kind of love that is so rare,
It comes only once in a lifetime,
If one is lucky, very lucky,
So, even though, we do what we do,
Have changed who we are, irrevocably,
I doubt we will ever stop, not ever,
And there is no blame to apportion,
No disgust, no reprehensible behaviour,
There is just us, us, and how we feel,
Are we to blame for what we do?

©Paul M Chafer 2016
This is the middle part of a much bigger poem, but I deplore reading long lengthy poems  on poetry sites, so refuse to post the whole thing. I will share the whole thing with any who message their email address. The poem is about love, how we love, in the 21st century - and it has changed with the advent of the internet and mobile phones - why we love and who we love and why. Is there any choice? Is there? If not, then infidelity must be a thing of the past, either that, or some folk need to climb of their pedestals and accept that the human spirit is not something we can ever control: it just is.
Cunning Linguist Jul 2013
I.* Manifest, oh Apparition;
I invoke thee to show me your light
so that I may apportion some inhibition
How I beseech thee, oh illusions of perception;
Masterfully guised as wolves among sheep

II. Materialize, oh manic vision;
For I have listened as the chasms between the Heavens and Earth
both wax and wane
Simultaneously

How I implore you -
throw down your swords;
For it is all the deplorable horrors
(sorrows) you reap
unto this world that I weep

III. Manifest, oh Phantasm;
When deceased molecules coalesce  
A breathe of life is given to those ****** and bereft
A resurgent culmination unleashed
Dawning the end of Man
and the rise of the Beast

Is it that you simply perceive or believe -
or lack thereof
that constitutes your reality?

Bestow the sceptre unto the spectre;
Assuredly, there you'll uncover a sepulchre
mvvenkataraman Jan 2012
Preserve carefully your savings
Do not buy unnecessary things

You work hard to earn wages
Frugality only has advantages

Spend, but waste not earning
As it may lead to mourning

Give to others with true control
What you give be not the whole

For you, reserve a major portion
For God, some funds, apportion

Be ready to give merciful alms
As God's heart, it surely calms

Forget not poor souls' orphanage
Helping people with different age

Buy food for birds and creatures
To reduce their daily tortures

Making a reasonable donation
Will give to holy Angels elation

Be careful dear in your spending
So that agonies will be ending

No tree gives us money sir
So let your spending be fair

If money is carelessly spent
Poverty only will come to hunt.

mvvenkataraman

SEARCH mvvenkataraman IN GOOGLE OR YAHOO

TYPE mvvenkataraman IN URL
Whenever we spend our salary, We cannot be carefree, Going on a spending-spree, Will take us to penury.
Laughing Wolf Feb 2016
fury
of the lion:
golden warpath garland
thundering soul set forth by roar
sovereign savanna rex, pride in plain sight
majesty unkempt like his mane
heavy the head that wears
the primal crown...
fury

vision
of the eagle:
corneal coronas
scorch earth from soaring apexes
taloned streaks of lightning tear assunder
the prey of a thousand yard stare
she is a feathered seer
perched in a nest
vision

venom
of the viper:
his husk made of mica
syringed fangs apportion wisdom
slithering past Achilles' heel to heart
from perceptive directions hissed
strait tongues fork in the road
coursing in vein
venom
Nick Feetchi Dec 2016
Staring starry eyed at a screen wondering if I'd ever hold you in my arms,
What a dream,
As the minutes turned into hours and no respond,
Still I dream,
I sit and I stare starry eyed at a screen,
With hopes of someday that this dream will come true,

Staring starry eyed at a screen with a dream of things that I’d do,
For starters, I'd have you take your arms and tie me up to all of your love.  
When I look at your saccharine smile,
I envision the smooth creamy taste of a dream of having you as my own.

Together we'd plant the seed deep down beneath the soil of our soul, where the roots of our love would expand from our hearts and stretch to infinity and beyond.*

*Staring starry eyed at a screen, as if I was hypnotized by the spiral of your joy.
I sit and I stare, as my heart beats as loud as the roaring thunder, I feel the drips of hope splashing down my face. You are Peace, I am harmony, and together we will apportion our Love, but for now I patiently sit and I stare.
Staring at a pretty Facebook picture.
Nick Feetchi Jan 2016
During our courtship I gave you my best,
        Exhibiting a dote that would never rest,

Tardy nights on the phone to hear your smile,
         Wanting to verbalize more than a while,

I've never had the valor to apportion my heart,
         Fear that the love would some how depart,

Today I concede to the feelings I possess,
         A blessing from God- and nothing no less,

I ken that he has been good to me,
         Confessions of my fears have set me free,

For this- I vow to cherish and love,
Through sickness, health and all of the above,

Changing my ways to think that I can,
          Revised my thinking from boy to Man.

For this I Love You
Commuter Poet Jan 2017
The ease with which you point the finger
The speed that you apportion blame
The bubbling groan beneath your lid
Sentinel of poisoned veins

The furnace crackling beneath the ***
The trembling of an iron lid
The hissing of the noxious gas
The pallor of the body’s skin

The line you walk is steep and narrow
With tumbling crevasses either side
The pack you bear is sharp and heavy
The chance of falling ever high

The dreamers dream of transformation
The torrid churning lavas cease,
Pure freshwater streams will flow ahead
To quash the hate and bring the peace
12th January 2017
Red Robregado Sep 2020
O search me, inside and out then heal me.
I beg You. Search me to heal me.
Save me. Hold me. Don’t let go.
Take a good look at the place that I dwell,
See how my plight is being engulfed with great floods,
the waters swirling in even unto my soul;
Sinking into the violent sinkhole where nothing but doom awaits,
drifting away from the lighthouse, rock house.
Storm-proofed. Or so I thought.
For it seemed unable to withstand continuous, raging storms
Could it be that it was made from sand after all?
I ponder to know; but how could I know?
I have become foolish, as though, I know You not;
I have forgotten Your face, longing, but I see You not.
my heart is dull for my loyalties are wrong;
I’ve forgotten to eat daily bread, Your Spirit groans.
My throat is dry and parched,
My eyes shed streams of tear, all too harsh
They say, “Ask and you shall receive”
But I’ve been asking, searching, slamming the windows of Heaven
Yet it’s as if I'm still ever more drowning in depression.
Oppression.
Same old transgressions.
Wrestling with wrong questions;
Suffering in suffocating silence
with emptiness and nothingness as loyal companions,
Scarcely breathing in an ocean poisoned with my own thoughts
It taints my heart with unbearable numbness
Holy. Crippling. Sadness.
My life is in need of the Anchor,
the pseudo-anchors I’ve had are now shaken from their footings
My vision fails as I wait for Your deliverance and saving.
“Hear from Heaven!”, sweet, Lord, this is my 900th prayer!
I’ve begged You.
Still, I am begging You.
I am exhausted, too desensitized, traumatized to swim.
Come again to my rescue, teach me once more to
tread, stay afloat, or stroke. Better yet
pull me back to the safety of Your shore,
for I still believe that in this life and to the next, there is more
But only in Your presence will I see, what’s truly in store.
While life may now appear desperate,
nonetheless, I wait upon You.
I cannot afford not to.
For who is a pardoning God like You?
Or who is Mighty enough to save but You?
Who understands a thousand sorrows
and guarantees unending joy tomorrow?
Who can breathe life to the dead and
render death stingless?
I know no one — not even one — but You.
Your sovereignty over the storms that grieve me
will sustain me in my tears,
it is Your grace at work even through my shallow fears
And it’s not that You have not heard my cries. You have.
You have answered a thousand times.
Just that it’s not how I pictured it most of the time.
But in the midst of grace denied, I got daily grace supplied.
I know now that You truly know best
When, where, and how to apportion your infinite grace
to me and all the rest —
So, Dear Father, grant me the grace me to trust.
Satisfy me day and night with Your unfailing love,
as you have sworn to my fathers from the days of old
Cast my sins into the depths of the sea and
let these sufferings work for me,
Teach me to expect no less;
rather pursue faith in the midst of distress
for You are using it to shape me into Your image.
I am appealing to Your zeal for Your own name.
Quietly, I wait for the timing consistent with Your good pleasure
Praying without ceasing, I will wait ’til You finally come for my
eternal pleasure and saving, endless safe-keeping.
Onoma Jun 2018
amalgamated June,
you've yet again been
taken up by the year
of your lord--
furrowed brow spread
fast to the skull,
glazed in contemplative
oils.
high noon drop down
of sun's cymbal...
clanging at the rim,
in gushes of sound.
all coming alive around
you, now square the peace of
minds that seek survival.
divvy it up, bury that
parsimonious fist, and
apportion the newborn
and seasoned alike!
assure all with that snappy
blue sheet you fly and
fan a blizzard of cottonwood
seeds with.
these keynote speakers of
silence you undo the land
with, as they touch all the
right and wrong places.
swelling a lubricious humidity,
a writhing--cut suddenly free.
quicksilver fish, lightning--
kindle-coal, ****.
in need of tempest's assistance--
June!
Joseph Sinclair Feb 2017
For so long were we happily united.
The divergence began a few years later.
It marked a time of sad and poignant loss.
A death with no cadaver.

What had we lost?
What had been ours to share and was no more?
How to apportion blame?
Why should blame even need to be considered?

There had been so much unity.
Our lives had meshed so thoroughly
and what had fingered one,
had snared the other.

Nothing is ever lost  (a physical law).
Every negative implies a positive.
So where was to be found
the serenity and joy
that had marked so many gleeful years?

The vacuum was vast and needed to be filled.
Her arms were opened wide;
while mine were clenched about myself.

I thought I could discern a pattern:
a repetition of highs and lows.
Perhaps, I thought, this could be the start
of a voyage of self-discovery,
and since, as Proust has said,
such voyages are less concerned
with seeking new landscapes,
than having new eyes,
I will have to microscopically
examine every facet of myself,
in order to find my true identity.

Then, perhaps, we will also learn
how to restore that unity.

And yet, and yet, the question
returns and re-echoes again and again:
After so many years, so many years,
how could we diverge so rapidly?
Megan Sherman Apr 2017
To shed thyself of my possessions,
Is not to have forsaken me,
For what I truly gave was the sum of affections,
Beget with Love, tenderly.
Dost thou know that we were not to token commit?
And our Love's transcendence is akin to Light only?
A truth across the stars in eternal brightness writ;
No plunge from that height e'er goes softly.
But thou doth insist in thy sad trance,
Of our being cleft, our parting,
Thou perceives an ending from whence,
I feel a fathomless ocean and beginning.
    Nonetheless I try the same,
    To purge of you, and apportion blame.
James R May 2018
***
She'd be thirty now you know
A woman; possibly more.

But what comes of this sorrow?
Can it be of use to drain sore

figs of memorandum, which bleed.
Antiquated and antithetical; They stubbornly reside.

Devastating; though majority agreed,
the tormenting anguish will preside

over years more to come of thorn-tinted
mirrors which expose and apportion

Blame of quotes said but misprinted
Of Our reconcilliary contortion.

Today the greenery flows:
Crushing anguish and deserved sorrow
Ripe; a new chapter to explore.
Still. How will they fall?

Just as We a decade before.
Kindinheart Sep 25
A cry of help, one night i heard
A cry of fright , a friend in need
She cannot ask , afraid in shame
I do not judge , love her the same
My offer is hers , she has to claim
I do not judge and apportion blame
I hope we meet , my heart his hers
She needs my help , i’ll gladly give .
By Jennifersoter Ezewi

They are like skin
Which shines at the presence
Of nourishment
And becomes malnourished
At the presence of lack.

They are like the brain
Which portrays brilliance
At the place of knowledge
And becomes dull
At the place of ignorance.

They wish to be polished
But don't have the means;
They wish to know
But don't know how to go
About it.

They hunger and thirst
For intake
But couldn't afford the bills;
They parade on rags
But couldn't apportion blames.

They can only beg at - will
As ones that needs your help:
Don't laugh at them;
Don't despise them
Because they were not
opportune.

They are here:
They live around you;
Speak around you,
Frown around you
And yet, smiles around you.

Don't laugh at them
Because they were not
opportune:
They can only get better by
your help
And can only sound better by
your support.
This poem advocates for the poor masses who craves to be educated but couldn't afford the fees.
It was published on social media on 17th of October, 2015 by me and sent to Hello Poetry on 19th of February, 2017 for invite.
Onoma Dec 2020
time can not apportion

her inelegancies--

know which baby to

steal candy from.

until her framework

of anesthetizing voids

take numbness aback--

with the succor of the

sweetest candy left to

the devices of a baby.
Ryan O'Leary Nov 2022
.                   Altruism
            

  Pain reflects attracts and shelters,

   benevolent havens are indicated

      with empathy or compassion

  

Human suffering has a magnetism

  invisible to an eye not the senses,

  common denominators apportion.



  Awareness of the importance of

   equality, is binary, especially if

     opposites are marginalised.
By Jennifersoter Ezewi

There comes a time in some people's lives when they think life *****. All they need from you is care, support and etcetera. You can keep that mockery to yourself if you intend to mock them. Sideline that blame you intend to apportion and seek for rescue.

If you happens to be a victim of mental illness: wake up from your mental ill state and look forward.

There is a brighter side of life
You will surely wake upon
Once you conquer.
#mentalillness #care #support
nivek Mar 2021
to what pay mind?
what cost to apportion ?
how much give?
finite time forever counts down.
Megan Sherman Jun 2018
Why in naivety do I vent such spleen
On one who kind and stray from hate?
And wills for Love insatiate
But my imagation? Ever keen

Why does my weary soul apportion blame?
To angel for what covert devil did?
For ‘neath that ruse his misdeeds , crimes rank hid
For shame for shame for shame for shame

Yet truth is vindicated by time
And his heart’s purity stand sublime
As hour of the judgement chime

To be blessed I must admit mistakes
Before the lord who my redemption makes
Say sorry I made saint and angel ache
Oliver Philip Nov 2018
TICK  BOXES.  (  2 )
The sharpest pencil poised above your name.
Now let’s apportion prizes ,unmeasurable gain
Boxes ticked,some wit pride some wit shame
Who’d do’u think your kidding nought f’ effort
W’out those guys on your side best start again
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Written by Philip.
November 14th 2018.
Tick boxes as a way of life
Yenson Jun 2022
The devil takes his cuts
surveying all with his piercing white eyes
digging all probing all

Sick of Divine Grace
Satan's in green shaded eyes pained with envy
he's for coveting all  

Lucifer in red shades
showtime for merciless malicious destruction
lets go drink blood

Moloch Father of Lies
needs no dark shades for trillions and one spades
seek ready employment

Yes serpent woos the wife
and hangs an innocent man for speaking the truth
its all been done before

So Old Nick's in bed with you
you speak nihilism and slander with your master
and repay good with evil

Archfiend, has no friends
you are his to misuse torment deride and burn
you have sold your souls

You lie you've seen a leech
yet you and your master and his infernal army
are the leeches and you know

In your sins you apportion blame
in darkness you try to undo God's work and glory
vengeance is mine says the Lord



https://youtu.be/RnQSa_AVpSo
You brood of vipers, how can you who are evil say anything good? For the mouth speaks what the heart is full of.

For God will bring every deed into judgment,
    including every hidden thing,
    whether it is good or evil.
Paul M Chafer Apr 2016
How I miss you,
You must feel this, know this,
As you in turn must miss me.
Do you miss me? Do you?
I think you do, you must do,
You say you do, when we speak.

Well, it’s the same for me,
But I often wonder, not always,
But often, what are we doing?
What are we doing?
Is this us? Is this who we really are?
Tis a far cry from who we thought we were,
Then again, previously, we did not know.

We could not know, how could we?
We had never met, were unaware,
Totally oblivious, that we could feel so,
That our hearts, minds and souls,
- not that I’m big on ‘the soul’ -
Could ever become so involved,
So intrinsically interwoven with another,
To such an alarming degree,
That it would change who we are,
That deep inside, where we live,
Behind our eyes, where we think,
We would never be the same again.

Are we to blame for what we do?
Can we help what we do? Can we?
Maybe, maybe not, we would suffer,
Oh yes, you think you miss me now?
You never know love, not really,
Until it is removed, forbidden,
Taken away far beyond reach,
Only then do you see, finally see,
Once you have lost that which you had,
Or even imagine you have lost it,
Only then do you understand,
How much you cared, cherished,
Adored, depended upon, needed,
That illicit love, that yearned for love,
The kind of love that is so rare,
It comes only once in a lifetime,
If one is lucky, very lucky,
So, even though, we do what we do,
Have changed who we are, irrevocably,
I doubt we will ever stop, not ever,
And there is no blame to apportion,
No disgust, no reprehensible behaviour,
There is just us, us, and how we feel,
Are we to blame for what we do?

For this is no ***** secret,
No clandestine meetings in dark alleys,
No all consuming flesh feast and nothing more,
No, this is a connection, a meeting,
A blending of hearts and minds,
Of thoughts and feelings,
A mixing of compatible personalities,
One that stretches over many miles,
Eclipsing all that has gone before,
A love that is real, very real.

You must feel this, know this,
You say you do, when we speak.
Do you miss me? Do you?
I think you do, you must do,
As I in turn miss you.
How I miss you.

Erin, this is for you only. The poem is real, I and this other person do exist, we are not together, and maybe we never can be. As I say, I have many like this, but not able to post them as it would expose the truth of how I feel, who I am, what I think. (I am trusting you with this, my private stuff, I never share, you are only the second person to read this, so please, keep it to yourself. It will be on here over the weekend then taken down, please don't re-post.)
Something terrible would have to be someone's fault,
But that thing could not be characterized as having tried to avoid it happening,
It would to an extent be characterized as having let tragedy happen.

This is because of the quantum nature of reality and having to apportion suffering and joy into a serial experience.

Everything can be attributed as being caused by everything else,
So we have responsibility,
A system of action and consequences,
Blame, shame, guilt
Sins and heaven and hell.

But I see through all this, I see above it.
I see why the scriptures say what they say and I see what we're doing.

But I am still beholden to the same patterns.

This thing I am talking about
It would be able to fantasize about being free,
Worlds apart from suffering forever
But those thing could only live within the maelstrom--
We are looking at aspects of ourself here
In an ultimately tragic compromise
Pulling strings out of nowhere
And finding we are just pulling at ourself
Until there's nothing left to pull
And why would you anyway

The thing I'm talking about
It would be characterized in many ways
It would not choose its own actions
It would think about reproduction
Have traumatic memories about gender roles and realizing what it was

— The End —