"opacity" poems
The Sunday lamb cracks in its fat.
The fat
Sacrifices its opacity. . . .
A window, holy gold.
The fire makes it precious,
The same fire
Melting the tallow heretics,
Ousting the Jews.
Their thick palls float
Over the cicatrix of Poland, burnt-out
Germany.
They do not die.
Grey birds obsess my heart,
Mouth-ash, ash of eye.
They settle. On the high
Precipice
That emptied one man into space
The ovens glowed like heavens, incandescent.
It is a heart,
This holocaust I walk in,
O golden child the world will **** and eat.
8k
you only tell me
how you feel
late at night
when you’re in bed
and your eyes
are blurred with sleep
i think it’s because
you feel more
hidden at night,
you wrap the darkness
around you like a blanket,
you find comfort
in the stars
and the quiet opacity
just be sure to love me
in the morning
May 10, 2013
May 10, 2013 at 6:30 PM UTC
Sterling eyes close the falling red ward
Big Brother has seen it all
He tells me: *there is danger
Terror past the massive, all-protecting Atlantic*
Don’t stray there, the mouth
of stumbling heads say,
They want to take away
Our safety, our ways, our Freedom
Mr. Elected reassures
*Nothing will harm you
Not with me going there
I don’t want you going there*
He speaks like my mom
Warning me of the illicits
I am too vulnerable to experience
It’s death I’ll go to- I’ve been told
Sleepless red monocular
Enlightening the air to a passive blue
It’s opacity beneath and above
Ascending again
Mama and Baba say it’s time to go home
I confront the arid peninsula of Qatar
Lungs accustomed, vitality not frozen
Precariously perceiving the harmful
Sentiments of years past in Jordan,
I wonder why
my kin would ban this place
Rumor on dirt pavement in a draft, ears picking up
*The Atlantic is not to be crossed,
A lack of morals, malintentions
lay beyond the scape.*
Extravagant grenade above,
Falling to the horizon
And no detonation, collapsing behind a curved veil
Skyward lay the remnants
Of heat, frozen in time
The lips in a box on this shoreside
Warn *the zephyrs from the ornery
Reaches towards our home
Be on guard of the deceitful
star at night that rains red*
Tomorrow may not be there
My blood brothers of Lebanon say,
But I wait, field of vision
aligned to the east
Aural stumbles translate, articulating
My brethren begin their search of food
And in too many moments unnoticed,
Black on bottom, red on the low, blue slowly suffocating the obscurity above
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 9:27 PM UTC
Verdant eyes, translucent pearls
speak in silent witness,
wounds unfurl
meaning revealed,
interrupted girl.
Safe in solidarity
prolific eccentricity,
the scandal of particularity.
Pouting mouth
grief - filled lips
alluring, set sail a thousand ships;
tempt me to leave harbor.
Arousing euphoria as such,
resistance, amity and distance
amour sans touch
her sense of humor transcends,
appeasing the mind’s thirst
a vogue sultana,
seasoned swagger
hair resplendent flame,
alternating cool, black
asymmetrical coiffure;
nonconforming demure
the renegade metaphor -
singular for sure, no cure.
Muted vanity, bathos piercing
the jaded circumference of banality;
pale protagonist servitude
the sapient palaver of the urbane,
covered patina of pretense,
induced coercion,
the commodity self
appearing abased
wearing lesions of lassitude.
Artistic chattel - eminent domain
preempting genius,
subsidiary of consuming narcissism
external locus of control;
surrender to the tentative,
fettered pendant, Venus in chains
arrested visionary bane
sterile savant, edifice of pain.
The soubrette, dubious incarnation
gravid ingénue of prevarication
imperceptible venue -
theatre of the absurd;
withdrawn siren,
solitude of necessity -
skin - slender veil of shame,
nearness loitering redemption;
moments envisage
the appointment with the soul;
ambiguity eschews clarity
awareness; ineluctable anxiety,
imago - centric confession
sacred pardon, seraphic venation
intravenous textures presume,
the tactile margins of liberty.
Therapeutic retrieval,
Sanguine,
beneath the portico of
individuation;
Your smile I hear,
recovered autonomy
blessed emancipation,
The scandal of particularity;
peculiar treasure
ironically captured
film, canvas,
prose profundity.
Ciphering as an ambling book,
I peruse you,
rendered captive
hypnotic avant-garde fiction,
spectator of denuded opacity
analogous reflection, I Mirror you.
A modest proposal - pontificate the imperative,
forgo the disposal, adapt your narrative,
the scandal of particularity -
resonate the echo, cogitate our propinquity
Love, imagination and destiny.
©2008 & 2011 W.S Warner
Sep 9, 2011
Sep 9, 2011 at 1:20 AM UTC
Wanderlust warlock blaspheme rapacity
Obsequious diligence pier pair appearance
Obstreperously vituperative vociferous tenacity
Consortium eclectic synectics concurrence
In extremis extremity cantilever capacity
Citadel clairvoyance pilaster conveyance
Inductive integration interpolative audacity
Derivative factor derivational appliance
Futurity fatidic’s laconic sagacity
Aseity veracity cacophony compliance
Accidence ambience aesthetics opacity
Acoustical articulation intonational occurrence
Apomixes anabolics histophysiological mendacity
Epistemological somatalogy syntactics refulgence
Refractive reflective semantics complicity
Hephestian dialectics Hegelian effulgence
Linguistic syntax synaptic intensity
totally tangential
Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 9:10 AM UTC
You descended into my soul so effortlessly, like dark blue dissipate into the muted periwinkle sky that kiss the hilltops of dew covered mornings.
Had there been but no measurement of the graceful manner in which your touch take a turn from skin to grasping onto organs locked behind the stern walls this may not be so difficult to comprehend.
Yet for the first time, the notion of numbers on a clock became irrelevant and I saw this beginning in gradients and neon bursts of color that illuminate all in its path.
For what can we track the depth of which we dive into oceans- with a ticking minute hand or the depth in which the opacity of our surroundings grow?
I caught you at midnight, I drowned in your essence like 500 kilometers below sea level, I admire you most at sun break, and I love you, how I love you, like the most effortless periwinkle blue.
Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 8:55 PM UTC
choo choo
next stop.....perdition
(no, not really...no-one believes this Stygian opacity)
1.
look how Time doth ravage thee
look what it did to thy visage
in smithereens, lies youth
it so artfully takes away
what is held so dear
rivers and streams
valleys and hills
arching to ecstatic heights
plunging to abysmal lows
into the ravine of chance
stirred by the spoon of Time
slowly around the cauldron
brews the self-same mixture
then poured into chasms of forgetfulness
using the eternal sledgehammer
it
smashes the foundation of thought
grinds the nutmeg of speed
pulps the fruit of mentality
slows the pulse of sensation
and pardons none.
2.
what was once sensuous and voluptuous lips
now are merely two dry slits on your face
once stared-into eyeballs, now glass over
vitreous cataracts steadily grow, weed-like
toned into lithe elastic bands now stretch
away into forever, a pale platform to walk on
life's morn is encompassed by years' slanting
clouded and bedimmed by mists of age
butterfly's existence outweighs a man's
by mere night-veiled windowpane of true sight
draw the curtains; close the shutters; screen the eyes
the time has come to shed all blinkers and face the sun.
3.
crimp
sag
limp
drag
mud cracks down a dipping dale
scalding pain sears sore half-foot
yes, time is but a disease
ravaging all
without fear or favour
sunken eyes
slower reflexes
tardier mind
scraggly body
hides not
condescends not
forgets not
the glimmer of ....
a time of ...
4.
cathedral invites the walker in
cool and calm recesses
sit silent
wait....
then they walk in, carrying
one who had but a lucky half-score lot
clear soprano note becomes a rudderless bleat
announcing the folly of stifling ego
now shorn of burning frost of circuitous fervour
beams of mercy cast a final look-see
jump the barriers of
time
to
carry thee off.
pipe organ-stops are pulled out
(art thee ready? platform number 5)
S T, 9 May 2013
May 9, 2013
May 9, 2013 at 9:24 AM UTC
Two eyes appeared from under a broadrimmed hat.
They looked around with astonishment.
In a schoolroom, far off in the distance, a boy was
Busy making a wooden bowl.
The teacher unaccustomed to such slowness
Requested a completion date.
“I am not slow thought the boy, just working
Away until I get it right.”
He met the teacher’s gaze with an expression
Of opacity and a sense of bewilderment.
On another day, at a later date, this same boy
Was found in his metalwork class applying
Cylinders of gases to his small creation, quietly,
Hoping for a connection before he was blown
To smithereans. Two blue eyes concentrated as
The jets of flames hissed into space.
Too long the gases flowed.
The master rose, the boy shook and his eyes
Widened.
In a playground, sometime earlier,
A small boy could be seen playing without a coat.
Gossiping women spoke of this unnatural act,
This exception to the fold. The boy stared back
Hearing their words with his eyes.
Decades later when his hair had turned from
Brown to grey but his eyes were still blue
And wide apart, he painted a little ***
Sitting on a pale surface, gazing into nothingness.
This painting took him a long time.
He had to get it right, the tones , the lines,
The connections.
After he finished ‘Little *** he sat down
And stared into the two blue blobs set wide
Apart on its surface and he thought, “this is
Me, the boy, the man, the painter, of wide
Apart, unnameable moments.”
The Beginning.
Love Mary ***
Jun 9, 2018
Jun 9, 2018 at 10:42 AM UTC
We're all ingredients in the humanity stew
The sad clowns
The prescription abusers
The chickens running around without their heads
This dish can never be out done
It's killing me
Ashes from Pompeii
The braces of teenage heart throbs
****** black and blues from abusive relationships
Fill the pots and pans
A homemade meal per say
Chain linked sausage fences
Add some Epsom salt
Some beef chuck
Giblets
And Simonides of Ceos
Daphoenus bones
A dentist and a retainer
Cornets, pirouettes and percocets
Awkward magazine subscriptions
You can buy the cookbook in all its opacity
See it in the Intrepid Museum
There is work to be done on Mount Olympus
Therefore we should go see a movie at the drive in
-Tommy Johnson
Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 9:39 PM UTC
Chatter, as I watch the snowdrops falling
It blends in from the street, the pavement, the everything but me
and the lonelier soles who walk their own ways in the path
Taking their own hands against the cold.
Distances there into and always with the twilight
Strings and biscuits in the dawn of the twice
Winds pass and monsoons sweep through
Often I watch them in the memories of you.
Cross the sidewalks, mirrors, delights
Christmas parties and silent enchantments
Invisible but dwelling in the darkness of the stars
So humbling in all the georgian opacity
I yearn for the lights of the morning essence
Dream of the warmth in the hearth of men
Assuming in vain the welcome of all night blankets
And grieve in the vacancy of the traveller's awe.
Who takes the broom of the closets past
Who walks the dawn and evening stars
Who fawns over the reflection of the moon
Who tells of my works in their brilliant cocoon?
Dec 23, 2010
Dec 23, 2010 at 6:32 AM UTC
a salutation, a benediction, a good wish
yet one so troubling, not from a lacking,
of sincerity
but from opacity
opacity~ the quality or state of a body that makes it impervious to the rays of light; the condition of lacking transparency or translucence; opaqueness
"Because space is a vacuum,
these good wish waves
can travel unimpeded and at
a constant speed through empty space,
eventually interacting with objects like
planets and telescopes upon arrival"
but I am not a vacuum, a void, and
do not exist within one,
here in my surroundings,
is much interface interference,
the light you send, has
bounced around endlessly
forever, till it may have hit
its intended target,
me
within, without,
and surely has picked up
some tagalong
amoeba, bacteria,
outside contradictories
that may have changed its very nature,
its purity disturbed,
"Pure light" contains a single wavelength or frequency
and cannot be broken down into other colors
but my confusion is indeed a spectrum of Joseph's many colors,
clashing and thrashing with each other,
cohering but not of necessity,
cohering, this a metaphor,
you so lightly send my way,
let us redirect its warm sensibility sensitivity,
let us take an /our inner glow; diffuse
if one cannot send light across the cosmos,
maybe across the Interpet, but just verbally,
send to me
please, absolutely,
tagged "for immediate delivery"
and I will store
all of it,
in my glass jar,
next to my heart,
and just
glow from within
to the with out
Sep 30, 2025
Sep 30, 2025 at 5:04 PM UTC
Wizened, like the mountain ridges in the west,
you gazed across the desk at me, rheumy eyes unblinking,
and asked me what I wanted from life
When I answered, the blue opacity of your gaze seemed to sharpen
and pierce my soul
you clasped your hands comfortably, and rolled your ancient shoulders back
- trees rippled in the ridges of your crisply pressed shirt -
and you told me, with your well-worn voice, that you would exert every effort
to give me all the tools I needed to succeed
as you blinked, our conference ended, like the sun had gone down
I was free to leave, but lingered
your short white hair crested your brow like a fresh snowcap, you
had ravines beside your eyes, and smiled like a canyon
so I turned to go
And it occurred to me, as I left the inclines of your presence for
the flat horizons of my daily life, that I
would like to have the same peace that flowed
through your being,
it would be a healthy rain to the desert of my soul.
I longed to have the verdancy that you had - you,
forty years my senior; you put my youth to shame
but soon you would be my teacher, and
you would not let me go to waste
Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 9:47 PM UTC
I trapped on the stairs full of turns
A few days so high up in the sky
A few days down in misery
Sometimes led to sanity
Sometimes led to gray
Railings full of thorns s
Down the rungs to o n u i o
c f n
Half-raised arm
Touching opacity
Tail dress
Bare feet
Hidden blushes
Saved hope
Ballerina hands
Lost in the middle of your stairs
You pushed me down?
Mess catch me
Why?
I'll always be the morning dew for you
You insist on showing
You forget the thread that joined
You changed the pretty
Why like this?
You are well on which step you are?
In which can I find you?
It's not down to sadness
(You changed the meaning
The essence disappeared)
Existence is like many steps
I thought I came to the top with you
But it was an oasis
For your young you: Generator of ascending stairs in our dimension.
- Codelandandmore //20:30 PM ©
May 7, 2017
May 7, 2017 at 2:35 PM UTC
We exist within—
the hollow spaces between dissonant piano keys,
love notes hidden under dusty bookshelves,
the underside of the mattress
that has never been dreamed upon.
I gaze,
not at you—but through you,
translucent skin beckoning to encompass
the opacity of my own being.
I can no longer pass minutes
without blurred illusions of your face,
laugh lines and rose petals in silhouettes
that beg to be understood.
and there you are,
a familiar face in every fading photograph
I keep tucked within the musty pages of my journal,
in crowds of strangers and static radios,
within the cardinal’s scarlet flight
and oceans of words that can no longer describe
even fractions of your importance.
I can keep pursuing synonyms
to paint you porcelain poems of my love,
but then it is cheap,
nothing more than a human
worth writing about.
and you are everything
and everywhere— you and those hands
that refuse to loosen their grip.
on days I lose track of time,
you become a mirage stuck somewhere
between heaven and reality,
the remaining shadow
of everything I cannot bear to lose.
Apr 6, 2016
Apr 6, 2016 at 9:41 PM UTC
I wanted you to fall in love with this:
A picture of perfection painted well
Content to be a lovely mask you’d kiss
But through my time with you my image fell---
And did I right away share honest words
That dribbled from my lips pathetically
While fearing scorn and judgment I’d incur
Let my tears drop un-surreptitiously.
But now I had no sleek and stealthy ways;
You tore apart my well-crafted façade
I had not seen the brightness of the days
Twas shrouded by opacity of gauze
I did not like this much, I had delayed
Pursuing individuality
And then, somehow, my deep beliefs were swayed
Perplexed that you’d desire the real Me . . .
And now the front has gone, I’m pleased to make
Acquaintance to my Self for my own sake.
Dec 2, 2012
Dec 2, 2012 at 9:50 AM UTC
Here we go again
Back and forth about the flaws I need to mend
Just because I tend to enjoy the thought of my end
And that I'm always dressed in black when I'm out with my friends
You sit there and wonder what could've happened
to that boy oh so happy
Now a lover of anarchy and a hater of society
How grandmother do you see such beauty in conformity?
Have you taken into consideration this reality?
The idea of order and balance is rapidly
Turning into a travesty
Because of mankind's brutality
and false sense of morality
There's vanity and inhumanity
Against ones own sexuality
And people have the audacity
to critically antagonize those for their God given nationality
While this wonderful country
Goes further intro bankruptcy
So continue to live your keen little fantasy
That we are all living happily and equally
Your views have such opacity
That I can see right through your irrationality
And your thinning mentality
So please continue to criticize me
Please provide some amnesty
Don't listen to me I'm just crazy
Remember? You can't trust me because everything I say is blasphemy
So excuse my insanity
And allow me to gulp down these pills so carefully
Not to take more than I should be
And I'll just vegetate amongst people like a cavity
An outcast to your perfect society
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 10:22 AM UTC
Kind words
Full mind
Modern Athena
In a Christian arena
Dominated by daddies
Along with other baddies
She's beyond and behind
Her time and her kind
She's an oddity
Of space and time
A pure mind
From an impure kind
She's Athena
Up in the air
Here I am
Name's Crowley, Alastair
I am the beast you ride
Anger, frustration
Society's deviation
I am the body you hide
Bloated and rotten
Tainted by your thoughts
And the rusted knife
That anger that bleeds then rots
I am the monster
What holds the power
She's an oddity
Of space and time
A pure mind
From an impure kind
She's Athena
Up in the air
Freedom within
Under the skin
Ideas ferment
Dry off like cement
She sees so clear
Words of opacity
An animated shadow
Pure tenacity
An angel
Here's a demon
Not even an equal
Just all the freedom
Gone wrong
Here I am
Name's Crowley, Alastair
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 12:42 AM UTC
to have been lead through
slumbering paddocks by
held hands; hope, the
deity, nonexistent and relentless,
i felt alive-
was i but the subject
of her meticulously-planned humour?
was i the joke,
or the punchline?
boldly ripening into
mistaken aphasias, i
find my melting thoughts
matriculating into sharp
movements in the dark:
curves patterned,
ribcages' separation, a gaussian blur of
intertwined epidermal rivulets,
your soft, slow imaginings becoming
tiny flecks of graphite smeared
a page's width, intricately sown
across skin, that light trickles
through a sliver in the curtains
to wordlessly illuminate.
seventh memory: a peeling away,
a mandarin on the kitchen counter.
watching stars disappear
from atop the balustrade, we sit
mere fragments apart, yet
at great distance, like
the fog of the cities we carry out
the moments of
our regularized lives, within.
finally, i become translucent.
yet,
what have the stars become?
Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 10:33 PM UTC
I look like I'm not troubled.
Fact is, deep within, I'm in a ball, curled and doubled.
Inside of my Soul,
Piercing shrieks are all that are heard
The opacity of night is brighter than magnified light compared to the darkness that is so profound.
Within the Inside of my Soul,
To reach my demise is a wish upon a star,
of which is only a vague experience dreamt
.
Within the Inside of my Soul,
On the surface I may feel fine, traverse deeper... there, now you are where the madness is withheld. Further yet, and I know not what you shall find!
Within the Inside of my Soul,
This region is neither authored by my body nor my mind.
The Inside of my Soul,
Consistently it stirs for either omniscient peace,
or to end the constant turmoil and cease
Within the Inside of my soul,
I see no imminent release,
Within the Inside of my Soul,
As does the Sun, my Soul either rises or sets, yet it never rests... even when unseen
Within the Inside of my Soul,
As my heart beats the blood that constantly flows, So too never is there rest within,
The Inside Of My Soul!
-end-
Revised from Feb. 18th, 2009 which is as follows:
"Inside of my soul"(Original)
I look like I'm not troubled,
but the truth is, I'm in a ball, curled and doubled.
Inside of my soul,
only screams are heard and the night is light compared to the dark that is so thick with in the inside of my soul
death is a wish upon a star, of which is only dreamt, inside of my soul.
Yes, I might feel fine, go a little deeper, then you will reach my mind, there, now you are where my madness is withheld. but further still, I know not what you shall find.
Inside of my soul, this place is not under the control of my body or mind.
My soul, it constantly stirs for either peace or to one day cease.
I CANT GET A GRIP! So I pray for a release; Inside of my soul.
Like the sun, it either rises or sets, yet it never rests, even when unseen
Like the blood that flows from my heart to my body, there is no rest with in the
Inside of my Soul.
-end-
Sep 12, 2012
Sep 12, 2012 at 3:52 PM UTC
upon seeing the lining of the
sky, lies the dwindle
crimson sign...
i asked why such beauty
twinkles in blood.
Nov 7, 2016
Nov 7, 2016 at 7:55 AM UTC
His language would be his skin,
Rubbing against mine--desirous.
His words would be his fingers
Slowly parting the opacity,
Of my febrile, trembling body,
And entering me steadily, ceaselessly
Between my widened eyes and breathy gasps
Of dialogic, intellectual ***********
If Literature was a man.
May 16, 2016
May 16, 2016 at 7:35 AM UTC
by saying the familiar
such as
here I am, Lord
we take comfort
in the suggestion
of return-
I so believe
and utter
here I am, Lord
but do not recall
the leave taking
my good Lord
provides
but instead
remember
being very still
for a very long time
a building went up
around me
I was very plain
for a very long time
and weighed
on the building
like an elevator
might
if broken
and in this manner
of being still and plain
I was called
to paraphrase
a certain
fey opacity
that went
I know
too far
Aug 16, 2012
Aug 16, 2012 at 2:08 AM UTC
But our eyes can't unmeet,
and you can't unwound my heart,
the strings you tugged at.
I'm not the kind of person you keep
when you let everything just
fall apart.
You were always the first one
to bolt out the door
when the curtains caught fire,
when the faucet spewed dirt
instead of water.
What little light I thought you saw
in my fluorescent eyes,
couldn't get past your opacity
and you just watched them
burn out.
It was always going to end
exactly like
this.
Jun 11, 2019
Jun 11, 2019 at 7:15 AM UTC
A farmhand skips the afar of the perceiving
end...a jittery candle-lit sun reenters the
chased oils of its pastoral painting.
A teetering haunt fleshed out...to see
through the sense of place...a movement
of images that will never be seen.
An inflection of a voice that will never be
heard...the imperceptible relationship
between opacity and transparency.
Forever to be taken away by *****
merely passing through...passing away...
a farmhand skips the afar of the perceiving
end...open endedly.
A jittery candle-lit sun reenters the chased
oils of its pastoral painting...a bird's ellipse,
counterpointed by amazing graces.
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 12:06 PM UTC