"elucidation" poems
The power lines provide
Elucidation in disguise
A sanctuary shadow-stained
Estate commandment private enterprise
Desensitizing blinded lies
The buy, buy, buy
Consumes the lives
As malnutrition feasts its eyes
Monopolized, the profits rise
The pockets lined with earth’s demise
Until the rockets own the skies
Devising how to energize
The Helios within our minds
As we just sit and stare with pride
Ascending our expenses climb
Mankind amidst the stars will shine
Except for who gets left behind
To overpopulate in time
Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 4:21 AM UTC
The sound of your voice,
linguistic forte
digital portrait combined,
reads lyrical, like Joyce,
the use of imagery -
elevating the plebeian,
resplendent -
the imposition sublime.
Pellucid prose, tête-à-tête
immersed in esoteric allusion
spoken with au fait.
Liberating my pedestrian
inhibition,
premise of surrender -
adrift, desultory,
delicious ambiguity.
Seduction begins in
the mind,
assets of imagination,
intellectual property;
side by side: lying supine
didactic invitation,
in assertions of diversion;
a chance to find
euphoria within our reach.
Linear alliteration;
fulgent flowing Fumé
Blanc,
fire and wine
private beach,
rhymes of elucidation
two bodies align,
I will learn if you teach.
Sensual epistemology,
curvaceous
figure of speech,
the Orphic; woeful
lover’s plight,
a porous song recite
art professor, verse confessor
tutor me tonight.
©2010 & 2011 W.S Warner
Sep 12, 2011
Sep 12, 2011 at 11:03 AM UTC
my imagination scalds
with violating stains
of contemptuous familiarity
agonised shrieks
confront my mouth
with an unremitting combustibility
while a frustration like a volatile tornado
engulfs me with an hallucinated savagery
detonating unrelenting explosions
within my consciousness of perception
causing a hurricane of momentum
bringing such oddities to my mind
as such precludes their proper elucidation
yet a tempestuously implosive inner cosmos
is located a volcanic insurgence
the accelerative storm on which
the poem like Valkyries rides
Jun 9, 2013
Jun 9, 2013 at 8:47 PM UTC
*There are times when
you are not yourself.
You blend into something
unwantedly & unwillingly.
Something that is
too distant from your
psyche & guise.
The transfiguration makes
you a whole another person,
one beyond your bridle.
But you always hit back to
your archetypal persona.
The endeavor to recrudescence
is always tenacious,
summating unscrupulous inscriptions to your crasis.
People will judge you
on this substructure of your psyche.
But this is not who you are
& what you are!
It is mere an icky phase.
Your elucidation lies beyond
this transfigured self.
Never relinquish your
pristine pneuma.*
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 6:40 PM UTC
Seasoned Love's silent discourse,
Dusk of the long distance,
Beneath the mantle of lament
The peak bloom, gnawing decay,
Obscure
The weight of favor;
Annealing fire, moulded by
Winds of duration
Unfastening the raw surf of sorrow.
Incipient caprice, theft of occlusion
Colored by common defiance,
Vile tremors of privation-
Native enclave,
The province of
Vacant, age-eaten elucidation.
The tangled weave, pathos and ethos
Vested
Interior acquisition,
Furrowed paths of countenance
Evincive and drawn,
Affinity found, inhabiting the palisades
Of Immersion.
A furtive glance harbors
The trained gaze whose
Immanent flame-
Emergent
Serous source,
Imbued piercing latency;
A taste of
The fountainhead.
Unprobed theater of the absolute.
Thin supple pith
Identity sealed in skin
Perambulator of meaning and
Lineaments of cure.
Bearing the image of ubiquity
Perceives in the other,
Immortality.
Sacramental Eros,
Subsumes the
Capacity to treasure.
©2013 W.S. Warner
Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 2:51 AM UTC
You say I don’t need a poem
to capture the day in a frame and tuck it
beneath my pillow
But I’d like to have it there in case I forget
the way the armadillo on the side of the road
lay belly up, beer bottle in paw
a redneck's respects for the deceased
or the feeling of three in the morning
pounding in my skull, soaking in memories
trivia pursued and articles of obfuscation: the elucidation of the world
seen through bottle-green binoculars and heard
through the neighbor's windchimes ringing out diminished sevenths
and questions I don't want to answer
or even ask out loud
I want to tuck it in my wallet
for times that I can't remember your faces
or the scent of your shampoo, or the order of keychains
on your keyring, or the times we drove to East Jesus Nowhere
and you ripped the leaves from my calendar, ticking
and turning my seasons by the mile markers in the cement
I do this to engrave it in my cerebrum
the nights we ran outside in our pajamas in the rain
and danced for a while, then danced some more,
turning and leaping and spinning and reaching
and falling down to weep for no reason
mourning the morning
among the sharpened blades of grass
You laughed at me once
remember that? how you scoffed and snatched
my paper from my spiral and stuffed it in the trash can
telling me not to write fiction in history class
but it's just as much history as every other Jefferson
another amendment you'll never read
But I forgive you. you're not the first
to tell me to get my feet out of the clouds
because my head's already gone too far for saving
or to attempt to stifle my addiction to
the scratch of pen on paper
the scent of ink on tree
the pulse of blood in my brain
I cling to syntax like religion
keeping the words pinched in my fists like pixie dust
hoping if I say the right abracadabra
the pen will turn to a wand
and I can paint you the details
one day at a time
May 15, 2010
May 15, 2010 at 8:40 PM UTC
To All Men Who Can:
We must articulate our sorrow; find joy in the grief
Call the resurgence when anguish is chief!
Illuminate Dark Alley
There is no finale
But the ethereal timeless bliss
Return solemn calling
of the moon,
Return to the mother
flowers in bloom
Listless excursion
Our soul's in aversion
To the petty game we made
Love be thine calling,
Our souls are not falling to this
Infatuous State of Sin
Jun 29, 2015
Jun 29, 2015 at 8:49 PM UTC
Not quite enough light
as I rounded the corner;
distinguishing, at first,
a glint of kindness, then it's absence.
If I had danced a bit longer on the edge of your sardonic stage
I would've stumbled on a steady beat of naiveté,
always one note behind your calculating symphony.
The shallow beams from the timeworn ghostlight
cast elucidation on your conductorial robes;
it is not often that one sees
so well in the dimness of love's sweet fog.
Alas, the savage cadenza reverberates
as if a prophetic whisper, illuminated my secret fortitude.
I turned back, fierce with indignation.
Aug 19, 2011
Aug 19, 2011 at 3:06 PM UTC
Details are always painful
Whether they are justifications
from a cheated partner or the
long monotonous description of a
curriculum's historical event.
Details always hurts
Whether these are the innumerable
unfulfilled promises of a minister or the
revealed reality of a schadenfreude
in disguise of your friend.
Details are always excruciating
Whether these are the tormenting
statements of a **** victim or the
soul piercing words of the people
living in blighted areas on social media.
Details always left you sombre
Whether they are the elucidation of your
acquaintance's tragic demise or the
rendition of a symbolic line in
Shakespeare's play.
Details always give you cold shivers
Whether it is listening to a horror
story in a solitary hostel room or the
sour scolding of your parents
for ******** up your exams.
The predicament is that
Details mostly give us a food
for thought but ultimately we all
end up grieving on things and doing
nothing about them.
Next time you encounter any DETAIL
that left you with even a bit of
of bad emotion,not just get grief-stricken
do something about it,so that you
don't feel bad when you confront it again.
Feb 10, 2015
Feb 10, 2015 at 5:43 AM UTC
in state of REM a succubus looks
upon me as if, I'm tainted; the
intensity of his stare mars my
soul.
besmirching...
every thought of self-elucidation
and I cringe under his watchful
eye; raking my skin with daggerlike
curiousity, sniffing, while I crumble
in openmouth terror.
he descends upon me swiftly; eyes
darting from head to toe piercing me,
into a trance I fall, as if, Dracula has
entered upon spread wings
transforming...
to full humanlike form and stained
teeth sink deep in vein *******
life's blood like a cool soda pop
fizzling with every sip.
savoring...
its pungency in dark delight,
smelling me like I'm a blood
tinged rose.
dripping...
and I awaken upon soaking wet
sheets in trepidities blood
curdling screams.
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 12:52 PM UTC
Herewith
Definitive semblance
of allegorical allusion
That unto the masses
in abject delusion
Replete with the
studied sacred illusion
of cosmic worth
for every cosmetic remedy
of indolent intrusion
Yea Right.
Characteristically docile
Accused and convicted
of arrested development
Screeching Hell awaits
the plentious harvest
of the crop of fools
Arreared in impetuousity
and impulse for that
most deviant sake
Yea Right.
Drowning awash in misery
Choosing to swim on alone
Thinking they then
are the chosen one
They then the center
God society et al
ad infinitum?
That most aberrant
Human Secular
thought.
Yea...Right.
-R.
(11.10.17)
-LA
Nov 9, 2017
Nov 9, 2017 at 5:31 PM UTC
Another *****
over easy on the ice and just another would be nice, but it would then progress and mess my morning up
and so I dazzle and make a cup of tea,two toast,some marmalade and look at me,as
sober as a high court judge,which is just about as sober as one can be,when one sentences to prison and relieves a man of liberty.
What Identity this man,
who can decide a span of time that another would pretend ,and inside where the attitude of days is played out on the prison walls,and in the canteens where I have seen great mountains of men fall and go to waste,
I have also seen those other men of God,men of Satan waiting for the dinner bell,and as thick as thieves they all fell into fighting righting wrongs ,dinner gongs and more mountains fall in the dining hall,more wasted words upon the wall.
1... I never did what they said
2....I was framed
3....The cops are bent
and those these words were never said or spoken each broken head and blackened eye was another,and one more reason why,
I lent myself to education,got certificates,elucidation but it was all a waste of effin time,the judge was right,send this man to jail
and ticked the fail box on his score card,
Hard labour never did me any harm ,not that it did me any good but for some it poisoned and where the blood runs hot,eyes bloodshot,riots,guns and more blood runs.
The sums seem never to add up and so I make another cup of tea and think how fortunate it was to see the end game,to see my own name written on the hand rails and when all else fails,
it's head or tails,win or lose and only one can get to choose one's
final destination
Sep 5, 2013
Sep 5, 2013 at 9:20 AM UTC
the anguish of this agonised arena
where black angels
roam delusional paranoia
a commitment to life
a responsibility to death
an obedience to immense solitudes
of anticipation generated by inspirational charge
an agony of imagined dreams
found in missing time
the unattainable that no longer exists
an unrealized reality
oh the anguish of this agonised arena
this continuous invocation of other
of I of me of we
a great elucidation of emotional chaos
the outer geography of my imagination
where all is led bare
and i see the black shadow of light
qualified, qualified, qualified
Dec 7, 2012
Dec 7, 2012 at 4:40 PM UTC
Lost, refound
Boding a sense of austerity...
That predicted a conscience, of how
The wait and waters, of possibility...
Finish me
My salt's worth, is a heroism to find
The world in a tailspin, a poised anarchy?
That sees the seldom of assurance to mind...
Long and bared
The tooth of passion
Has been lost, somewhere
And a secret with my needs, has an intuition
Berate a friend for slowness...?
A tale of homage and vestige, to count
As another ideal live and let live, of kindness
Has come and gone, to consider a chastity in the round?
Curiosity, is at an all-time high?
Time with a haphazard sign of the times?
Bared elucidation will become our justice for nigh?
Asked by a truer us, the past to few, is but intellects shines?
Until...
A silence is broken by the seizure of occults
Of vice and sigh's of vindication, a bitter pill?
We can spend on moral's, the better purpose without walls
Pittances and pains, patience and poorness
Through an angel's eyes, devil's become a shadow
Of complexity we should know, for a world to guess
A faring sunshine to tell a story about a staring shame, love?
Jun 20, 2022
Jun 20, 2022 at 12:06 AM UTC
Bound to an unknown fate
Here, the actions take place
Behind the veneer of life
So many centuries of struggle
Mental turmoil with acceptance
Surrounded by vague elucidation
We have tried many ways
Followed different paths
Traced our footprints of the past
Wherever we have been
Burdened by many more questions
We have many more queries
Insatiable souls looking for evidence
The ground beneath our feet
And the sky above our head
Caught between a strange paradox
We cannot travel beyond
Limited accessibility to the vast unknown
Unknown force limits our enthusiasm
In an aim to reach the ultimate culmination
Will be a befitting finale
For the souls which have been seeking
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 7:34 AM UTC
A wave of thought always encircles you,
A wave of yarn link to civic concern always involves you,
A hope for change always enforces you,
A longing for endeavouring cogent living always inspire you,
Your brashness for a transformation yields this long journey,
A journey for reflexion, inquest, elucidation and communication,
Communiqué for an unfailing thinking and for an effort for human wellbeing!
Now it is the time for us to continue this journey,
A journey of unfurling thought for rationality, fairness and equality!
Mar 12, 2018
Mar 12, 2018 at 1:05 PM UTC
When, in time, where a moment
Of intense desire tips the jar of elucidation
Sets loose a smoothly sailing stream
Down a hungry throat
To the awaiting gullet stuffed with malaise,
Can the rage of enzymes be heard?
Will the breath of despair, and the wailing brew
Of alcohol make peace in silence,
Or is the feat of the battle proclaimed in slurs?
When, in time, will the meager klinks of newborn knees
Ring as explicitly as creaks in an ancient house?
Will screams of hunger conceive compassion
Or should thee be mocked and exiled
To recover from the blithe shame of dependency and impatience?
Hear the sounds tread in darkness
Pleading, crying in the embrace of frigid walls and sterile corners.
Record the rhythm of footsteps
Echoing and fraying -
Taste the smeared sweat of exertion.
Count the patches of lost paint
Stolen and stowed beneath polished nails.
Hold me similarly while I recover.
Show me while I regain sobriety that I was caught
When, in time, I was lost in misery.
Nov 12, 2020
Nov 12, 2020 at 3:13 PM UTC
Through portholes of morality we search for immortality and fight for our own sanity against the turning of the tide.
Chide the weak who fear the end, for them we'll send a sedan chair
to carry them off somewhere there,
where mountains melt into the sea.
To live forever
I would be invincible but mortality is not for me
for I exist in second phase in parallel to all the days I spent,repenting of my sins and never winning first or second prize which went to heathens who told lies and pretty girls who fluttered shadowed eyes against the shadows cast out by the sun,
and anyone with half a brain, which counts me out because, I never was the same as clever clogs,forever bogging down while running on athletics fields,
who could have told me,rolled me up and sold me in bazaars and market halls,if only they had,had the ***** to make a stand against the pious and the hypocrite who never once thought to give a ****
for poor men and girls who swirled the waters by the dock and those with pockmarked,stark and staring faces trading several places to shuffle lowly in a line as once again the tide will turn to drown the scorned and those who spurned the helping hands
and the hand of fate can kiss my **** and wait for me
I'll stand with those and shuffle slowly to the end,
send a sedan chair,pay the fare
make sure it's at the end where I can see
that mortals and immortality are a crock of **** and we're only here for a bit of fun,
more shadows cast out by the sun and left to haunt the alleyways
and all the days I live I would not give a **** or seek out weak men just to help them pass beyond the pale
let them find a holy grail that suits their needs as Moses too was found among the reeds and stolen by a dynasty
A mortal,immortality still eludes the holy man who scans the heavens for a sign and yet shuffles slowly down another line
we'll all get there to share the silver chalice, if only to find that Christopher Robin divorced poor Alice and run off to where the piggy wig stood
Nothing's good that cannot last
and one more shadow casts a spell
we're going to hell get used to it.
Aug 1, 2013
Aug 1, 2013 at 2:16 PM UTC
I have seen a lot, yet I've -
not seen enough.
It’s all been gone for so long now,
And time has forgotten us.
Mangled, crude, palettes of motion,
dizzying the senses;
All trying to deactivate,
and acknowledge the moment.
… You are eternal in thought.
I haven’t seen enough. You still
tell me, a lot.
Our faces will change in the night,
but yore memories will not.
Melodious, compulsive, silences in rhythm,
enrapturing harmonics;
Desperate to inseminate,
in which, we are broken.
… You are eternal in me.
Apr 29, 2015
Apr 29, 2015 at 12:19 PM UTC
I
-dulcimer clatter opens the sun, first fruit-
timber fathoms/crystal veils
on all steps, crossing all human borders
untethering wood
from forest, until only the green element remains
to purify the soul
an alpine afterimage, shadow-display
(creature of Earth, moss-backed & yowling thru the chaotic sleep
of October, you see it's symbology in your tea, sharpening its
obsidian hands against the seastones,
imprinting loveliness into the rock, to be worn by tides,
replaced by death absolute)
The fabled Black Horse (shadow-self) waiting solitary at a
gas station, an imprisoned dreamer inside
its gaping jaw/saturnine, coldness
of daybreak, clouds at their Atelier, my head
feels a pressure, been awake too long,
breathing in through the nose/out through
mouth, monastery of the mind in need of clearing.
II
Soft/soft/skin/fury
embrace, catharsis, collision of
two individual energies
pent-up and cast/release
like a skeleton net::onfire
(kissed, consumed
elated, recurrance)
closeted eternities
cycling back into the
wind (hanging willow)
calling to the seeker, gold,
purification & lightness/mouthcurl washed in silence
(your own body, rising tide)
welcomed crucible of chilling air
& my black and
white vessel,
electricity spirit-
whispers
“valley swimmer, elude me”
FLASH OF LIGHT
III
…. The widewaking world
unspun-
theatric elucidation,
emergence of a great snake
a wisened flower, sprouted from exile
blissful rejuvination of
the ivory leaves, at once!
I wrap my throat in a Munich scarf
(pattern-blue)
walking upon the softness of
Grötzingen (angel's eyes speaking)
an orchard, where the last gardener's tireless
work lay like a dreaming ossuary
Oct 11, 2017
Oct 11, 2017 at 9:48 PM UTC
The unknown air to breathe
just so concealed
rushing down the memory lane a thing caught the mind’s eye
unknown dreams and indentured places
the very delusion of certainty.
with the turmoil pilling up
gratifying or tainted unable to asset.
justification being like the secluded love possessed by the sun for the moon
self created agitation seems immortal
ignorant of the elucidation present within
** being insightful of the self is the key to ease**
Jan 24, 2016
Jan 24, 2016 at 11:36 AM UTC
Love is born and starts to grow,
Beyond all ways our hearts could know,
Though times may change and youth may go,
True love shines now and ever so.
Love is blind and without fear,
Beyond all doubt and ever dear,
Though hard to see it’s ever near,
In every smile and each warm tear.
Love is deeper than the sea,
Beyond all realms that we could see,
The force that binds and sets us free,
Reserved for those like you and me.
Oct 17, 2012
Oct 17, 2012 at 7:48 PM UTC
The air matches the forest deep.
Its Auburn glow weaves congestion into thick dimensions.
The grass, and leaves, and trees coexist in this moment of surreality.
A sepia trim around a coordinated portrait -
The eye cannot adjust to a moment irreplaceable.
A melting slathered teardrop falls slowly.
The tree's push this far into the sky -
Not pushing, but holding, rather.
As a weeping mother catches her child and slowly descends them.
She cannot hold forever,
and the red of scars, disaster, and reflection advents.
She let’s the child wander;
Developing.
Enveloping.
And black does become the night.
Delicate, and sluggish, this darkness falls.
Her arms can bear no more,
as the sunset-soul consumes an arcane definite.
Droning below the lake,
of which no hills sit near.
Charcoal weighing down the once prepossessing light -
of nature’s *****
A soft whisper,
And death.
Dreams…
And guilt.
"Free us of his torment!”
Cried the leaves: post-wilted.
"He’ll devour us by his own light!”
Shrieked the trees: un-guilted.
"Why entwine such sedulous melancholia?”
Squealed the breeze: pre-juilted.
Oh! Do despair in blessedness!
Oh! Does the flora mourn for her exaltation!
But…
Oh,
Does his darkness revile the ***** soul -
In impassioned ecstasy.
May 20, 2015
May 20, 2015 at 9:26 PM UTC
Roses they did wonder
contradictory to their character
but love had they squandered
at the hands of a gifted actor
What a feat it was
to become an unexpected pawn
they came in red camouflage
from his hidden pocket like a weapon drawn
Now bathed in mistruths
and dyed black by misdeeds
dismissed of thier behooves
as tainted blood stains their leaves
The roses they wondered
in search of a new elucidation
for their job had they blundered
condemned by pains preservation
She rejects them like a plague
as thou they were poisoned by his lies
though their part in it vague
she blames them most of all for the tears she cries
Roses they wonder
in search of their redemption
as her screams do thunder
while they fight against her apprehension.
Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 1:28 AM UTC