"integrating" poems
The pierced ego sees
through an opaque lens;
a vestige of hope,
humor and
intellectual solidarity.
Effigies of forgotten ethos,
the culmination of a
fated dream;
unrequited ardor, abandons
identity to an irreducible
fervor,
subtext of tension,
enduring ****** privation;
etude of a paramour
ending torture,
tasting mystical polarity.
The wounded heart
once intruded,
bleeds effusive;
the ornament of humility.
Flattened collateral
damage,
primal search,
proves illusive;
portals of hurt, slivers
of pride,
assembled fragments of
thereness
absorb the loss
of my English muse.
Poetry and devotion
punctuated murmurs
of piety,
depth perception
virtue unfound;
expectation - access
to suffering;
disinterested love
present,
desultory carnage
of rescission,
absurdity personified;
euphemism
of adieu,
the sound of no sound.
The discarded image
finds no favor,
the salt lost it's savor
unquenched thirst;
desire of
diminished purview,
the saporus stream
deferred;
vision eclipsed;
saturated self
hidden in the text.
Poverty asks the
question,
absence summons
ethereal substance
merged into
the immanent frame;
integrating,
in solitude signifying,
mediating - logos
contested
the humiliation of
the word.
Lyrical enigma,
where did I go?
provisional
personality
scorned,
renouncing nostrums
of the prosaic,
surrenders to the
the realm interior
sovereignty
assumed in
provenience,
native
horizon of the next.
©2008 & 2011 W.S. Warner
Sep 3, 2011
Sep 3, 2011 at 6:11 PM UTC
i want to perform. in front of hundreds.
yes. but its not like **** as people watch on www.pleasewatch.com
something more ritualistic
MORE primal like a divine act.
feminine and masculine integrating with an honest envelope.
sign sealed delivered by the ultimate act of universe.
it is soulful with lust but pure as a dust.
lust for the very first time.
you are tasting it for the first time and you realize that you have a magnificent power that never stops to rhyme.
that you can keep on and on.
then all of sudden it will be like nobody is there.
the audience dissapeared.
and there you go. we are adam and eve. there for the first time.
there goes the prakriti and purusha
like rebellion to the addicted and hedonist world of amnesia.
Dec 23, 2020
Dec 23, 2020 at 7:33 AM UTC
A sun, shinning through looking glass
Broken pieces of me are glowing with remorse
Can you tell, how lovely tea leaves are singing
Duets with crows and ravens
Everything shines in glory, shines in regrets
Falling in reverse, crying in reverse
Gone are the ghosts, gone are dreams
How lovely are the birds' beaks
Integrating with the sea's edge
Joining the dead ships and shells
Keeping the diseases, keeping the rain
Low sounds, do you remember how it felt when we said goodbye?
Melodies discharging tears from their eyes like a funeral's crowd
No more remorse, no more regrets
Opening their mouths but the words are trapped like birds in cages
Pills are choking them, stuffing their bodies
Quite was the day, loud was the night with screams from within
Run for your life, or run for your death
Sick were my dreams, sick with my insanity
This birdsong, it's haunting you, haunting me
Under pressure, under which gate is the key?
Vaulted were their smiles, like an ancient city
With sorrow it is, vaulted is the gate to you
Xeroxing my needs, every inch of my pride
You have set my soul on fire, I'm burned to the ground
Zonked out, exhausted by the lies that lingered through your skin, through mine.
May 23, 2015
May 23, 2015 at 7:06 PM UTC
It is necessary to know how to tame her,
Shy, careful, secret and reserved,
Not very comfortable in a crowd.
She possesses this discreet charm,
You cannot forget as a viral load.
Natural, simple, reliable in her feelings,
She needs proofs to be reassured.
Her attitude is sensible and direct,
An inner life is rich of her life's striking,
Where her intellectual sphere takes it,
By the elegance of her sparkling creativity,
Under the power of her own meditations.
She is so rational, ironic and critical,
By her genuine metaphysical reflections.
She is constantly building on her intuition,
In the area of integrating life's solutions.
She thinks of being late, but just accurate,
Worried in pleasing and in being loved,
But just forgets she is part of human being.
You can trust her blindly,
Because in spite of her side to part,
So different and so warm,
That can perturb you,
And walk away from both of you.
She remains your half for all eternity,
Even if today this Love has dried up,
Keep her sharing gift to love yourself,
To be yourself, and nothing else !
Apr 12, 2015
Apr 12, 2015 at 7:27 AM UTC
•
Your love is as sweet as the sugar,
That I've been addictively indulging,
For so many years.
*Every piece of you,
Is just the most gratifying that I have tasted!*
But when together we've been drowned with tribulations,
You just gave up rapidly...
And dissolved!
*Integrating and going with the flow,
Of those torments and allurements,*
Now where are you?
You are now a part of those afflictions that drowned you,
I can still taste your sweetness,
*Every time I sip through the trials,
That we've face,
Resulting to weaken your knees,
And been defeated,*
I was totally in great pain,
To know that your love,
Can be just greatly surmounted,
By miseries in life,
But what can I do?
I fight, you relinquish,
And until then,
You just become a memory,
Of an achingly baleful chronicles of my life.
© Earl Jane
♥ E.J.C.S.
Jul 24, 2015
Jul 24, 2015 at 8:05 PM UTC
my body is a topic that trails the mouths of a family at dinner
it is the trail of saliva that leaves shortly after breaking a heated kiss
always leaving a bitter taste
but when did you taste me?
when did I crawl into your mouth full of cavities?
existing as I am cements chains in people's root canals
a topic for discussion
my life to debate
trans people being the forefront
it is so inconvenient and sinful
and yet its the flavor on their seething lips
kissing one another trailing more saliva
knowingly trading hate with ones mind and lips
integrating more citizens and normalizing their behavior
transphobia is the topic for discussion
Jun 18, 2021
Jun 18, 2021 at 1:25 AM UTC
I look to the East with deepen breath,
freeing soul inside love.
I look to the West with dancing steps,
freeing my soul inside dreams.
I look to the South with open eyes,
freeing soul inside visions.
I look to the North with hearts song,
freeing soul as my mind follows.
I look up to the sky with gratitude,
freeing soul integrating light
I look down to Mother Earth,
freeing soul as my feet ground.
Ground in celebration of a new day.
Jun 13, 2019
Jun 13, 2019 at 8:28 AM UTC
Golden
Magnificent
Emboldening
Transcending
Emerging and engaging
Merging and integrating
I see my Africa
Rising as the sun
Ascending
After a seemingly endless night
Propelled by the rising sun
I glimpse the eclipse in the horizon
Compelled by the morning songs of the African birds
I spread my wings ready to fly like an eagle
Dark clouds dissipating giving way to light
Just as I was anticipating it’s time to fly
To freely fly in the blue sky
Without treacherous clouds threatening my graceful flight
Hovering in the heavens
Visualizing all inhabitants
Working towards one goal
As I play my spirit given role
Happy and at peace
I sing the African song
You have blessed the sun
Now in light, I swim
You have reduced the darkness
Now my light prevails
Development is imminent
Upon the African Continent
May 18, 2017
May 18, 2017 at 9:27 AM UTC
#
*This place. I don't know.
so many people / want to block..
their words--
they climb all over me.
one's in particular:
Heart-expressed words bringing down
the healing light of relationship to the parts of me
who up until now
have known little or no relationship of its kind;
and there is conflict within me as I fight it..
years the locusts have eaten; and the opportunity of restoration;
often squandered. in vanity.
none of that mattered much;
until now--
When the unredeemed heart-parts of myself
reveal to me their dormancy: left detached
from community with one another--
an internal community necessary
to withstand the brilliant light and glory
brought down by those here who write as she does.
but she;
through her unfiltered heart-writes
brings down the very magic and beauty and fullness of the
relational dance of the godhead.
And it's raw beauty is ****** slayin me.
I so want to block her for the conflict she creates in me
.
but I will press on
and allow her supremely-smithed words--
(words not even written to me)
to have their beautiful way,
in
and through..
the help that has been all around me;
(each and every one of us)
waiting...
all along
**--as if they were cleaning my soul,
re-integrating my fragmented, heart-parts.***
#
Apr 11, 2021
Apr 11, 2021 at 8:21 PM UTC
*Spring is going to back
Silently dropping the purple petals
Bored noon,
The melancholy flute's of Shepherd
Seeking the missing spring
Roll up,
Roll around the idle noon
Random impulsive air
Bunch of dark clouds at the sky
Pensive
Seem illusion of that known
Pied crested Cuckoo
Beyond the horizon,
The eyes looking for
Sounds (Tip Tip) of the sudden drops of rain,
On the leaves of Quail,
Washing
Differentiation of mind
On the leaves of Arum,
Ever Keeps as the containers
Integrating
Concentrating
Compiling of soul
Weird one wrapped in mystery
Mind
Life
Seasons
Coming up the lyrics of rain
Fusion with thy mystic music
Afternoon has grown heavier
How my mind moves!
Chased away birds returning home
The heart is rapidly expanded
Rain continues to move around
Nature demands a new ground
Looping, hearing of the same song
Shadows filling with the feelings
Perhaps this change of thy
Bound to sketch
A new face of impression*
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 12:41 PM UTC
Breathe in the freshness
of the arduously picked commodity,
That you hold between your lacquered fingers.
Don’t let synthetic ingredients
dissolve your thoughts
and obscure your vision.
The liquid remedy we sip is drenched,
With pain and protracted nurturing
Carefully fostered
through inclement weather
drink in the story that comes with it
That fuels caffeinated conversations.
Refined and defined leaving us blind
to the painted secrets of lives that were once lead
different lives intersect,
different thoughts and opinions interject.
Leaving lipstick kisses on the porcelain skin
Sipping away worries and pain.
Inhaling the smell of impelling advice,
fragments of sugar coated anecdotes melt,
integrating within, interfering
with the raw, strong, sharp taste
that can pierce through.
the rare intense, earthy aftertaste
is tainted with artificial garnishing,
suffocating the fresh natural essence
neatly contained in the teacup
ready to serve and ready to present
taking shape of the porcelain guise
Don’t sprinkle it with processed collaborations
of sugared doubt,
Contaminating your imagination
Manipulated by dainty voices
Resonating in your head
Like the delicate teacup
You anchor with your soft hands
Weighed down by the overly sweetened tea.
No longer holding significance
of the vast fresh fields it sprouted from
Forgotten and drowned
in the voices of someone else’s drum beat.
cloudy vision reflected in the saturated tonic
you sip elegantly, pasting a smile
suppressing your own desires,
under someone else's acceptance.
Jul 16, 2012
Jul 16, 2012 at 12:20 PM UTC
Like continents moving the skin off from over me , slowly..
deliberately with great force on the rest of my being ,
each aspect of myself emerges anew
from the cocoon like first layer of childhood ,
i see myself spiral from the snakeskin left on the floor
a forge is in it’s place
of molten liquid energy running along my meridians.
Serenading every judgement of another character with love shine ,
fresh from the gardens of mine
that bathe
by the sea air
in my root chakra layer... mingles ,
with the heart echo arrow
i send it with.
Known; that the judgements of others are a side product of judgement of self.
Be it , through the eyes of a hopeful parent or a tired teacher , a pig or a nit.... an angel or specter himself -
None equal as true, to the eyes i see through
on the matter my being is composed of.
Integrating stillness in my vivacious bones , conscious movements flow , stabilizing the unknown into the known , materializing the un-materialized subconscious realm.
Moving through visible reality shifts and mind rifts , exploring
the astral world around me
whilst moving through physical boundaries of borders
Developing organs in my subtle body .
Manifesting my foundations for stamina.
What a joy it is to live from the heart.
Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 11:32 AM UTC
The shadow self, the parts I disavow,
The aspects of myself I can't allow
To surface in the light, the hidden traits,
That fester in the darkness, sealed by gates.
The anger, envy, jealousy, and greed,
The insecurities that plant a poisonous seed,
The fear of abandonment, the need to cling,
The wounds that never truly learn to sing.
I cannot run, I cannot hide away
From this reflection staring back today,
I must embrace the darkness, understand
The reasons why it holds me in its hand.
To integrate the shadow, piece by piece,
To find compassion, grant myself release,
From the self-condemnation, the endless blame,
And recognize the human in the frame.
To understand the origins of my pain,
The childhood traumas that still leave their stain,
The patterns learned, the coping mechanisms used,
The wounds inflicted, the defenses infused.
To see the child within, afraid and small,
Desperate for love, and fearing any fall,
To offer comfort, understanding, grace,
And heal the broken places, time and space.
This journey inward, difficult and long,
Demands vulnerability, a strength that's strong,
To face the ugliness, the raw, unfiltered truth,
And find the beauty hidden in my youth.
For in the shadow, strength can be found,
Resilience forged on consecrated ground,
A deeper understanding of the soul,
A path to wholeness, making me whole.
By integrating the shadow, I can see
The darkness not as enemy, but me,
A part of myself, deserving of embrace,
A source of wisdom, finding its own place.
Sep 19, 2025
Sep 19, 2025 at 7:00 PM UTC
>reclaiming power does not mean taking anyone else's<
I feel a storm inside of me
I feel a vortex forming
Spinning deeper and deeper,
Spreading wider and wider,
Reaching out to all the edges of the
Universe
I see
cosmic light
Radiate from within it.
I see
All the colors,
And all the dark, mysterious space
Integrating together to Create,
A massive Vision,
of Divine Starlight !
I see-
My soul lighting up!
I see-
My soul lighting up!
-
Despite the Worlds' fears,
I can choose
To not be afraid.
Despite the perception of flaws,
I can see the Divine order of all things-
All things !
oh,
It is within you, and it's inside me-
I have crossed over a black sea.
In the water shone,
Starlight !
The small row boat floating my soul -
Seemed to know just which way to go,
Between these two worlds,
Above & Below-
In pure amazement, I ceased to row
In the starlight.
Reflected from the heavens
All through the night.
A gust of wind displaced my hair,
& Reminded me-
Of why I was there,
To keep
Traveling across the sea,.
A colorful island is waiting for me-
I hear bright laughter,
Traveling light.
I will not close my eyes this night,
So as to-
Row, row, row, row on--
To reach the place, where I belong
In the Starlight
(we're starlight
reflecting from the heavens-
all through ,
All through this night)
Aug 15, 2018
Aug 15, 2018 at 12:09 PM UTC
*and you shall be content with stirring up the sentimentalities of the old,
rather than be content in capturing the imagination of the young.*
i only write in my mother tongue when i feel too much
oppression, when it’s not worth being reminiscent
of the years 1772 through to 1939, only then do i use it,
and using it weep. i know of the post-colonial stress disorder in
western societies, it’s effective use in psychiatry
of these societies to curb any ambition of historical reminiscene,
i know of the oppression where man integrating
into these societies is told to relinquish his mother tongue,
i know of these oppressions: and of eastern european "exotica" -
you wouldn’t be fooled to expect tigers and polar bears,
palms date trees and icebergs to be so close to england!
murzynek bambo wita! kopciuszek magda wita!
hanzel und gretyl / bambo i magda!
but did you know poland is the host nation of the european
bison, and the no. 1 tourist destination of storks?
oh... polar bears it is.
Dec 7, 2015
Dec 7, 2015 at 6:19 AM UTC
only because northern ireland was originally liverpool.
yeah... i’m an anglo-slav,
he’s an afro-saxon and that guy is a fairy
with clover petals for wings -
watch him fluster and flatter cheeks turning green into pink!
well, nothing really educational in essex,
just a barge of the usual escapees from middle class opinions,
esp. escaping opinions as if onion tears
of the integrating migrants who flawed the first rule:
your father purposively forgot your mother’s tongue
(but your mother kept it for the earth
and her hope for you to till it),
you’re ******** with a body and no soul:
the irish fairy countered interrupting me -
i kept my gaelic in speaking english drunk, **** you!
that’s a trinity that i see.
and i saw it, spoken across new england and washington state
(hey, price up the ***** liquor of thieving a sympathy,
i wasn’t going to be nice writing poetry,
still me, the remnant of the masculine root liking rugby
and the diminishing psychologies of the players
of the losing team - watch them applaud loss
rather than sing victory prior without listening to
a wwe fake warrior entry music they boggled up with dr. dre’s venture
into # therearenomotivationalspeakersinthenationalanthem).
i kept my masculinity watchings the sports
just so i could write poetry and not womanise -
now the escorts and arias i hear you claim?
no... finding nemo, frozen, brave,
no arias and escorts, just enough morals for enough of
horn inches and cartoon coloured shoes.
Oct 3, 2015
Oct 3, 2015 at 7:20 PM UTC
We've been conditioned
to project our Shadow
onto all that's around us
and then begrudge the faults we find.
Self-fulfilling prophecies and confirmation biases:
If you look hard enough for something
you're bound to find it
especially when you're subconsciously projecting it.
We've been trained to let our Shadow speak for us, to act for us
instead of confronting it and integrating it;
many act as a puppet to their Shadow
few (if any) are truly holistic in the realm of mind.
The Shadow is a powerful backseat driver:
it knows what you fear, what you desire, who you hate, and what you can't stand.
It is the manifestation of those parts of yourself
you'd sooner forget than have over for tea.
The Shadow is not something that can be discarded or destroyed
it is only a powerful source of energy and inspiration
that will run you over if you give it the chance;
it will make a zombie out of you.
A creature dominated by Shadow can be said to be a Demon;
a vessel for evil, a conduit for the Shadow's destructive potential:
We live in a demonic society.
By this definition, an evil society.
A society that uses the powers of manifestation and Shadow to breed hate and suffering
as opposed to utilizing them to help preclude such torment.
It isn't just isolated to any one country;
it is a plague upon the people of Earth the whole planet over
for the Shadow is an integral part of the human mind
and anyone can fall victim to it.
With all these counter-examples of maturity and fairness
it's a wonder anyone has any morality to speak of.
Jan 28, 2013
Jan 28, 2013 at 4:54 PM UTC
*well O... well... O, give me life! i need no beggars of the cyclone to repeat the foundations of seasons and things tectonic! O... well, O! rounded-up by rugby geometrics for an oval symmetry of the orbits... O... might i add - oh? well harp me a sigh with it too - or play me the ******* violins... i too might add my toes in the muddy sands of the Calais of India that's Goa: with toes clenched inward like a grip of a crow, or the antics of a ballerina; indeed Calais, the footnote of the Angevins... tell your integrating dogma to successors of william the conqueror's behaviour, as by-way dehumanising righteously - such the tongue spoken, such the tongue rebelling - via the term identified with utmost against the irish post-stamp claims for a peace treaty: rōnin; no, you be sub-human teaching me the language and then venturing into treating me as a simple cashier - no education system is necessary to craft the near robotic professions! why crave capitalism in the educational system when all might be happier un-educated for the professions the lazy aristocrats intended for them?*
i'll march against your little
utopia...
by god i'll march against your
Parisian Disney fairyland
with teeth clenched and fingernails bit
to a manicure!
for the chastity of white
lacking colours of a rainbow -
since on white an imprint,
and on black an absorption to stack-up
the many lacks of expression.
Apr 10, 2016
Apr 10, 2016 at 8:42 PM UTC
dreamt in strange shifting blocks, interwoven and with startled faces, sentencings spoken wordless. woke up to the blurry thought:
sometimes in talk, i am confronted with ideas that in no way reconcile with my own structures. in response, i often choose to not say anything, or let it uncomfortably sit in my gut. in cases where the opposing point won't be heard, i suppose this is alright. but, when my own rooted beliefs are challenged in a valid manner, it is more akin to the silence of shame than of dignification. is this symbolic of the internalisation of a more sound philosophy, or inability to process it against the grain of my own?
avoiding argumentation where it is of little purpose is one of my prime conversational aspects, and in an overarching paradigm avoiding unnecessary speech in general. but what internally portrays as tact can come off as indignant coolness, or bitter indifference. so, do i continue to speak in only the meaningful outer lashes, or let down the floodgates to some degree?
human interaction doesn't need necessitate grave importance at all junctions, and sometimes the most comforting talk can be of nothings (which i still find myself often party to, despite my self-portrait of filtered short-spokenness).
how do i open myself more to accepting or understanding when points are more sensible than my own, and integrating them into my consciousness? for, surely, if i disavow myself from giving up dated sentiments, i shall truly stagnate.
Feb 2, 2016
Feb 2, 2016 at 8:31 PM UTC
Standing on my head to rid myself of this soul-phlebitis
An old hobo train jumper trick apparently
All that blood rushing to my previously empty head
Filling, pooling graciously flow
(Don't we all know, there's nowhere to go but up)
Abruptly fall head first lurching, crunch
To the cold brittle hardwood boards of nuns in our parent's youth
Creaking (they whip us good)
Is this ink sunken in skin to be yer biggest regret?
What can pain do for you?
Connecting the mind and body
Cingulate gyrus integrating
reptilian brain vagus nerve body influence with higher
Social functioning
ugh when really it's all a big joke
and the sad clown laughing at the universe
is me and i am god and god,
god he weeps
Breeding consciousness, somatosensory convergence
You make my prefrontal cortex sick
Subsequent serotonin stomach butterflies
The prescience of a dozen acid trip candy flips
Tomorrow's 500 micrograms of blissful gut
Awareness in bloom
Home, where's home for the moment?
Not sure, asking, looking
And questing to find o yes and where to go and where to stay
And with whom and Why
Questions called to no one and nothing (but the sea)
That can't hear me
As if Nietzsche's 'void' is staring back
EAT ME THEN DAMNABLE VOID
I cry
For
What pain is there in true madness,
sick little toy words
sick little boy slurs
Aug 11, 2014
Aug 11, 2014 at 10:36 PM UTC
All our senses concatenate, building on each other
<>
this interplay is truly interplanetary,
for each of us a unique solar system,
our brains,
intricacy literally personified,
and our five senses, working
in
concatenation
our long range sensors, busy bees compiling inputs
by the nanosecond second, distilling, integrating.
blending and then reconstructing…into a whole!
*a gentle breeze ruffles the hair,
the tree swing rises and flows
of its own accord, no passported
passenger required, and a neighbor’s
American Flag, moves majestically &
impressively, whipping, dancing, yes, prancing
to a tune only it can hear,
the syncopated air currents providing
a rhythmic awesome inspiring beat…*
and the brain takes this all in, a momentary
second of a vista that is constantly flexing,
yet remains unchanged, a muscular view
of a real world, living but yet immutable,
and I utter thanks to my motor functions,
that bless me with the eyes to perceive,
the nostrils to smell sea salt flavored air,
the hearing ears that the know the imperceptible
orchestrations of silences by their absence
and their intrusion, and I touch my fingertips
to my tongue, wetted, and hyper sensitized
to that gentle breeze that decorates the
landscapes external,
*and the combinatory
addition of the all of it, into a single momentary
poem of recall, what I “knew” yesterday, & will
greet again this coming day, as an old unfamiliar
friend, who grasps me entire, and proclaims:
this is living…and the greatest satisfaction that
a speck of mortal can achieve, retain and
through impoverished words…share*
4:14am
Mon Jul 22
2 0 2 4
Jul 22, 2024
Jul 22, 2024 at 4:25 AM UTC
It's easy to write a poem.
It's hard, however, to write a piece of originality : something where you don't fear people are reading it thinking "Where have I seen this before?".
No clichés, no copying, no integrating bits of your work and bits of others, always give credit where credit is due. Etcetera.
But that's not really what poetry is about.
I guess, in my own words and understanding of it, it's just about expression and ideas and spilling words onto pages that you could never say aloud.
I guess it comes from the abyss within yourself.
Where, in your heart, letters swim in pools of emotions waiting to be saved and salvaged.
And in your mind, they are forming in an orderly line waiting to be made sense of.
Maybe none of this makes any sense.
Or maybe it does.
I once heard the expression : "Nothing of me is original. I am the combined effort of everyone I've ever known."
And that's the **** truth.
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 8:52 PM UTC
I shall dance through rain, through fog,
through day light that turns night.
I shall dance inside the wind,
when things don’t seem so right.
I shall breath deep inside me
to mediate and be.
Focusing on wisdoms light.
I’m meant to feel so free.
To know I’m sacred and a gift.
I shall dance inside rhyme.
As I move in my path
I’ve learned I am divine.
So I shall dance inside rain
in days of clouds and sun
Integrating both as gifts
with purpose to have fun.
Jan 24, 2018
Jan 24, 2018 at 7:35 AM UTC