"infinitude" poems
This salt
in the saltcellar
I once saw in the salt mines.
I know
you won't
believe me,
but
it sings,
salt sings, the skin
of the salt mines
sings
with a mouth smothered
by the earth.
I shivered in those solitudes
when I heard
the voice of
the salt
in the desert.
Near Antofagasta
the nitrous
pampa
resounds:
a broken
voice,
a mournful
song.
In its caves
the salt moans, mountain
of buried light,
translucent cathedral,
crystal of the sea, oblivion
of the waves.
And then on every table
in the world,
salt,
we see your piquant
powder
sprinkling
vital light
upon
our food. Preserver
of the ancient
holds of ships,
discoverer
on
the high seas,
earliest
sailor
of the unknown, shifting
byways of the foam.
Dust of the sea, in you
the tongue receives a kiss
from ocean night:
taste imparts to every seasoned
dish your ocean essence;
the smallest,
miniature
wave from the saltcellar
reveals to us
more than domestic whiteness;
in it, we taste infinitude.
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564
My period had come for Prayer—
No other Art—would do—
My Tactics missed a rudiment—
Creator—Was it you?
God grows above—so those who pray
Horizons—must ascend—
And so I stepped upon the North
To see this Curious Friend—
His House was not—no sign had He—
By Chimney—nor by Door
Could I infer his Residence—
Vast Prairies of Air
Unbroken by a Settler—
Were all that I could see—
Infinitude—Had’st Thou no Face
That I might look on Thee?
The Silence condescended—
Creation stopped—for Me—
But awed beyond my errand—
I worshipped—did not “pray”—
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Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 9:01 AM UTC
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
Sep 30, 2012
Sep 30, 2012 at 1:54 AM UTC
What do my memories taste like? There lies on my tongue—
An atomic bomb:
a purported speck, with no chicken pox skin situated upon such.
I spat it out; I wobbled on and on, stomping the microscopic intensity into the sludge.
No one sees; how pleasant…
My shoe’s underside slit it— a paper cut broiled to the infinitude degree—
Preposterous conundrum! Slam!
I fulminate! I screech, the needy baby I am!
My guttural heave strews in the wind:
deformed limbs on the newer generations, an abysmal thread.
Supposedly bland, but then: a guzzling bleed from you and I gushes on and on; but oh, was it needed!
Listen to my writhing! Soak in my curdling roaring!
I am the mafia mastermind, but I plead to guilt!
The vandalism cannot be grated, but I will
revamp, spot clean, and hunt for a vaccine.
I cannot cure a scored scar, but rest assured:
I will endeavor to solidify the clot.
Aug 29, 2020
Aug 29, 2020 at 4:31 PM UTC
#ክብረ ነገሥት
*Oh Sovereign of wisdom Solomonic,
forgive us. The wicked wax demonic.
Golden vessels fill with foulness
man is bankrupt, sold and soulless
Unsettling harbingers loom dystopian.
Sheba rises in dreams Ethiopian.*
Tested with questions, her spirit once gone,
occultic suggestions postponed her dawn.
(Six-hundred and sixty-six talents of gold
paid Nineveh’s rise as Messiah foretold.
Go read it in Matthew, obstinate sinner
You think He intends to have Satan the winner?)
Her ruins now surveyed by satellite
beheld on the screens of the Canaanite:
canals to expose, southern deserts to cross,
Eritrean legends of Prophet (and loss),
the Ark of King Menelik—Kebra Negast,
treasures of darkness presented, now past
have us checking those texts that worldlings despise
as we wait under dread Luciferian skies.
Break the sixth seal of the seventh scroll;
let the thirteenth angel spill the bowl !
(or smoke it up in the courts of Heaven
till ganja’s infinitude totals seven…)
Exhume Axum with the ****** of Marib.
decode the encryption on Adam’s rib
unearthed from some Antediluvian ravine—
Blast from the past: she explodes on our scene!
Seven oaths shall be sworn on her spectral beauty
(our Biblical transcendental duty).
The libation is mixed. Are we ready to swill it?
Beersheba? She brew ! Let us rise to fulfill it.
from sita to Saba fifth columns are ready:
Oh Sovereign — render their pillars unsteady.
For after explosions there’s mess to clean up,
and it’s worse than the horrors inside of her cup.
Apr 27, 2016
Apr 27, 2016 at 9:47 AM UTC
*
let me wear existence
to move easily around
infinitude of problems
mind never ceasing
grudges uttered
between harsh words
I forgot I was once clad
with petals and blossoms
delicate easing out
fragrances as dreams
you don’t pay attention
nor have some sense
of smell no more sense
ordinary days of wasting
away in full daylight
Feb 21, 2015
Feb 21, 2015 at 2:09 PM UTC
Your non-words echoing softly in the silence.
What am I so afraid of?
I think I know what I want
but have no idea of what I truly need,
which confuses the dream infatuation that I have with the idea of being with you.
The stories I've heard about how it would feel to be under you;
the fear of being possessed by
insecurity
while enveloped in your arms.
Cornered by the reflection of our bodies
while trapped in an incantation of shared breath,
whispering loudly to the primal beat of my pumping veins;
I see past infinity.
As my thoughts become quieted,
they are swallowed by my subconscious.
In this moment,
I become truly lost.
The ‘I’ that over-thinks and overreacts is coaxed into submission
and swept under the rug;
atop which we make love.
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 10:21 AM UTC
In the heart of the cavern, light
that stands ancient behind time, beyond
phenomena, the observer of melodies;
This is where it all began,
those aeons lost when the mollusc
heeded the call to man.
Inward, stalked by worry and loss,
an inversion of the lines of time:
beyond the zero point of recollection,
where zoom microcosms of possibilities
a realm not realm, but like that
an existence beyond existence.
Here, arose an affliction, in
curled expanses that exist as some among
an infinitude of potentials,
worldlines, some dark and featureless,
others growing and meaningless
and some like here where sentient,
observatory, a shadow grows around
the probing ray of infant awareness.
and so the ascent, from light to light
through alleys of darkness. Vast,
the beginnings and interludes
between phantasmagoria; What
accedes of in slumber, the knowledge
of things and nothings.
And up even until the day when
the babe says 'mine'.
Apr 9, 2015
Apr 9, 2015 at 5:21 PM UTC
This bed is a comfort,
Much like the sounds of used water
flowing through ninety-year-old pipess,
Soothing me,
while the sounds of the city
are brooding inside of me,
and it’s the same.
It may be the pinnacle
of 1922, pre-collapse Providence,
but it’s the same.
It may be different,
but it’s just the same,
And that's just the way it is
So I cool this brain that's on the fritz
And do my best to keep sane.
The wallpaper is interactive
and there's an infinitude
of pigeons on a television screen
that is worth more than my apartment,
and it’s still the same.
The rug is soaked just the same,
the lingering odor of feet is the same,
and I can feel all the ghosts of guests
from the last century trying to,
dying to speak to me
and through me,
and it’s the same.
The way the sun rises makes me feel like
I have no cause to be awake or asleep,
but I’m awake,
and it’s the same.
The stress of lost cigarettes,
and the blame of untapped digresses into unnecessary depths
is the same.
The way I’m viewing the start
of this day that hasn't yet
is the same,
and it’s a shame.
Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 3:34 PM UTC
She painted the void within the chambers of my heart with broken crayons.
She painted them with the shades of effervescence.
She is white chocolate in the abstraction of snow melting in my mouth.
Her eyes can swallow black holes and I drowned in their infinitude. She saved me, She was my lifeboat.
When i wear her smiley badge, her words resonate inside my skull.
Every waking second of every minute of every hour of the days seemed like an everlasting lifetime with her: Infinity.
She tasted like the sweetest cotton candy dipped in the elixir of the most exquisite bitter fruit.
She was the unrelenting/interminable flame zealously smouldering in the night sky.
She rekindled my dying ember of lingering hope, in the existence of people like her.
Serendipity.
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 11:04 PM UTC
The space between chaff and
grain...misshapen yield vying
for the ecliptic plane.
As eye to eye...to be plucked
from what is gathered.
Moments timeout their
defining...what beauty hobbles
its poetry?
Something in league with or
without...passes off a kinship
nearer and dearer than bone
in plain conglomeration, as
strung to skeleton.
A seeing through of boundary...
as always open to season,
change by its allowance changes.
Our parenthetical infinite is
blessed/cursed with peripheral
vision...anonymously...
glory blurrily grows.
Begs from form what itself begs
form...we are thus force-fed
finitude, till what infinitude comes
of our eyes.
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 11:46 AM UTC
Science did not fail me, nor I it.
The age of commitment, of the unconditional
Fell amid the rubble, after the Bombs
Of nuclear autumn.
So in an embrace of burning tongues
We lay briefly, sporadically
Amid delicious sunset passion
That each of us will remember
In the minute before sleep,
The second before death.
Perhaps every true scientist has known it,
This ambivalent lust
For the succulent food
That deepens your hunger.
Kekule followed a single night’s dream;
Newton pursued his madness
In a backward race of Order and Law.
Einstein rode a starry stallion
Of hard-charging, time-driven Libido.
Bohm, the fractal infinitude of wonder.
Science, your hair gave off light,
Your lips brushed my every nerve
With the imprint of despair.
And you always gave enough
To make me ask “what more?”
Feb 9, 2010
Feb 9, 2010 at 12:31 AM UTC
A moment
Infinitude
While waiting for one's lover
That moment
Barely there
While dreading the kiss goodbye
A minute
Eternity
While alone on listless night
That minute
Flashing past
While fingers of sleep uncurl
An hour
Unending
While informed of prognosis
That hour
Fast fleeting
While cocooned in last embrace
A day
Relentless
While baking wedding cake
That day
Spins away
While vows are set in stone
Time is in the eye of the beholder.
Hold it before it's gone.
Jan 26, 2016
Jan 26, 2016 at 2:00 AM UTC
A dark and murky irky
Girl
Skipped down a winding stair
She coiled a bright red ribbon
Through her plaited
Hair
The girl is an angel
She alights at loneliness
She brushes your hand
And whispers
That life is just unfair.
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 3:09 PM UTC
As I brushed off
The six week old dust
Off the mirror the other day,
I was happily taken aback to see
Myself a tad bit prettier, after weeks.
Funnily enough, I had made
The mistake of believing my
Reflection to be me.
Introspection's a better mirror,
I reflected.
Why does one look into the mirror everyday?
To remind himself how, or rather who he is?
That opaque shard of glass
Could never encompass
The zoetic surge of thoughts
That have gushed forth from me
Since the time I have existed.
I'm sure, the mirror pities
It's own lack of identity.
Manipulated by reflections
Of a myriad kind,
The mirror manipulates us thus,
Mirroring us and itself
In another way.
They thought this opaque shard of glass
Could contain the infinitude within us.
It has only mirrored the illusions
We projected each time we looked into it.
I am only distanced from myself
Each time I seek to find myself
In that stagnant pool of perceptions.
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 1:33 PM UTC
#4
Through pinpricks
In the vault of night,
The desires of sleeping souls
Seep upward into a second sky
Where they flare into infinitude
Like our longing for God.
Oct 6, 2015
Oct 6, 2015 at 11:19 PM UTC
We're living a Dangerous Life,
tiptoeing on the Edge of a Knife.
What will come and take you in
The End?
Will it come from Behind
Or from Around the Next Bend?
Are We Here,
Really Here
Now?
...
The Everpresent Present
The Eternal,
The Undifferentiated,
dao
...
The Way of the Eagle
The Way of the Sun
The Way of the sweat
of the Toiling One.
The Way of the World,
The Way of The Track,
The Way of the Scorpion who rode
the Frog's back...
The Ways of Old We've left Behind
The Ways of New We must
Now design...
The Laws of the Jungle
And the Laws of Gods
and Men.
The Laws of Those Whose Land
We're In.
The Laws of Physics and
The Laws of Time.
The laws of lawyers and
of Organized Crime.
The Uncaused Cause,
...
And The Uneffected Effect.
The Unpolished Flaws,
And the Unfinished Project.
The Unwritten Rules and
The Unspoken Code.
The Unwitting Fools and
The Untraveled Road.
The Final Frontier,
And the Promise it gives...
The Things We Create
and the Life That Outlives...
The Dawn of the Century,
The Dusk of Mankind.
The birth of Something New,
Of a limitless Mind
Or is it really New?
Or was It done before?
And who is
the Ultimate Authority
on the Universe's lore?
And is Novelty
all that we aim to adore?
What about the Nothingness that came from
Before?
Did it have some Great Big Colorful Blob to explore?
Did We sunder the Stasis
forevermore?
...
Is there One God,
or an Infinitude?
...
What does it mean
to Truly Be
"The Dude?"
Or
Maybe the Many make up the One,
And from the One All
Things flow?
...
Have these Thoughts been Thought before?
How am I to know?
And
How about We Just Be
Good to Each Other
And
Help Each Other grow?
Feb 14, 2022
Feb 14, 2022 at 11:17 AM UTC
~
infinitude (noun): the state, the quality of being without limit, infinite
~
drew first breath, woken to the heart’s rpm thankless task,
conscious aware, that solved proofs deny infinitude,
yet, triumvirate of five senses, brain waving,
a steadying thumping heart,
all asking why not?
can I will it?
the body’s parts convene, debating furious, some claiming
a sell-by-date cellular programmed, nothing to be done,
dimming of the day, a human necessity, the self-salvaging process
but a single cell, a mouse-sized squeaker, boldface stuns,
*”feed me, moisturize, give me sleep + blue blood nourishment,
I’m good to go in a forever Iditarod!”*
the others ashamed of their festival of fear, knowing well
what has gone before, dreaming thoughts of infinitude, go silent,
while “why not?”
lingers in the lungs, the breathable shared, atmosphere,
the senses spread the quest to every remote province,
with each continuing a chant grows ever louder,
a millennium of poems concealed, yet awaiting conception,
all entitled,
“why not”reverberating.
<+>
7:36am 2022020
nyc everywhere
Feb 8, 2020
Feb 8, 2020 at 3:23 PM UTC
If you are going to be dramatic, be dramatic in some new way.
Because the way you are being now wafts the scent of that old worn out you.
The one from years ago,
pining and whining and all together unpleasantly reminiscent of my younger years.
Oh to be young,
but never to be that again.
Yet there you are somehow captured in time.
Trapped in amber forever so as to perpetually present the same shade of tortured.
The same DNA ****** out of your bones to recreate that 'brand new you' into infinitude.
You haven't evolved
and I'm afraid I haven't devolved enough for us to be on the same end of the food chain.
I would shame you and wag my finger in front of your face,
but I'll hold.
One doesn't go to a museum to bemoan history.
I wanted to see how far I had come and man were my boots made for walkin'.
Sep 16, 2013
Sep 16, 2013 at 1:31 AM UTC
in a parenthetical existence
see the shadow of reality
through infinite lenses
distortions of distortions
the infinitude of humanity's
misunderstanding
pick a side for no reason
but why not?
then pierce strawman enemies
with low resolution image macros
which ignore the macrocosm
both sides return victorious
over their lifeless enemies
and await tomorrow's call
artists of ambiguity
find new ways
to draw the same lines
resculpt the truth
leaving nothing
but a monstrous mass
of homogeneity
favoring the profane
Mar 10, 2015
Mar 10, 2015 at 10:26 PM UTC
Inheritance and loss
Time and space spans across
Planes of infinitude
Round of rebirth
Playing ten thousand games
Yet sparkling in each molecule
It vibrates complete
You are it and it is you
How could it be any other way?
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 11:55 AM UTC
She painted the void
within the chambers of my heart
with broken crayons.
She painted them
with the shades of effervescence.
She is white chocolate
in the abstraction of snow melting in my mouth.
Her eyes can swallow black holes
and I drowned in their infinitude.
She saved me, She was my lifeboat.
When i wear her smiley badge,
her words resonate inside my skull.
Every waking second of every minute
of every hour of the days seemed
like an everlasting lifetime with her:
Infinity.
She tasted like the sweetest cotton candy
dipped in the elixir of the most exquisite bitter fruit.
She was the unrelenting/interminable flame
zealously smoldering in the night sky.
She rekindled my dying ember
of lingering hope, in the existence of people like her.
Serendipity.
Nov 8, 2015
Nov 8, 2015 at 10:54 AM UTC