"prevarication" poems
I lived in the rush to brush the dangerous, I ran right to the edge of love, hanging onto the illusion of you, the allure of a mirage in the expanding desert of prevarication.
May 30, 2014
May 30, 2014 at 9:59 AM 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withdrawn siren,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
I.
AM.
A.
Piece of ****
Here's how i roll.
I plop the excrement, directly in the pool.
I **** on chairs,
This is where i place stool.
Plip plob drop loads,
Crenated blood cells and lymphatic drool.
Hurt my kidneys in a fight with truth the other night.
7 brutal, flooring uppercuts to the Latisimus dorsi....
I am > "this girl"
That one that's taken more hits in the face than Tyson.
The one that makes Jenna and Sunni Leone look like pre-school dropouts of ****
Guys say.
"She"
"got the,"
"best head."
She has nothing in it though.
Her brain's finished by the time words leave her lips whole.
thats as far as it gets
the words pass her **** then she falls, grab her hips.
Prepare the sword for the stone.
The one with the baby whole in her dome.
She's not good, much else.
Her black hair and wisdom lines go bout as deep as her shirt.
Depending on the day.
Pervert.
Lets do ANOTHER line.
"Oh My GOD!" "We did so much *******
Coke in cans.
Filled with whiskey flask-hand.
"This night's gunna be one to remember",
if his member is inside, that's my gender,
Blend it with all the worst intentions,
Use the worst intentions.
Stab the heart of conviction.
Tear it to tethers with tension.
Rip the strings of friendship.
Tease the knots of frayed linen,
Like its the only thing ya got.
"I am so high right now."
I forgot what earth looks like.
Probably like my town.
Only place I've been.
I'm 17 ya see.
Its the only thing you got.
You don't deserve roses, flowers, Laurels.
No trees.
No dime bags, no speed, no crying hag.
I can sure **** 25 yearolds.
Saying your better never sounded more like a lie.
Worst thing is you have that prevarication internalized.
I have a god complex...
Wanna save em all...
Can't save a ******* one...
I did lie once...
It was...
When I told you that you weren't...
A piece of ****
Apr 13, 2013
Apr 13, 2013 at 12:58 AM UTC
Her countenance,
had long given up the ghost
Twilight tried to allay the ravelling .
She needed resilience,
for those fiery Sunday visits
endured by her confused Son.
Trumping by prevarication,
until no more, she retorted.
Her honeysuckle dreams
turn ramshackle.
Those plumes of bonfire smoke
before and the after, differ now
on contrite compost.
Sep 21, 2012
Sep 21, 2012 at 6:43 PM UTC
The Miss-Director was beaming with pride
as he came to escort me inside.
"Come along, these are perilous times,
there is much ugly truth we must hide."
"Herr Goebbels was our school's inspiration.
Joe McCarthy taught here till he died.
Charlie Rangel is among our directors.
Our Grads over nations preside."
"We recruit each years class from young children
who display a disdain for the truth."
"We start with a class on tall stories,
progressing to fibs and untruths."
"By the time they are teens they are ready
to leave little white lies behind."
"They engage in deceit and deception.
These skills help them rob people blind."
"With our Grad course in prevarication
They misdirect and deflect with the great."
"Obama was born in Hawaii,
his foes say he was birthed out of state."
"When Bill Clinton was caught in that perjury
I nearly went out of my mind."
"If only he'd paid more attention in Class
and less to some coed's behind."
We had come to a massive rotunda
The Pantheon of all untruth.
Holograms of Stalin and Churchill
told whoppers in an endless loop.
There were quotes from
the World's Great Religions
inscribed on the sides of the wall.
A Left wing devoted to Lenin.
A right wing like a Munich beer hall.
" The sheeple must never be told
that a place like this even exists."
" You can count on me not to inform them."
I said, without moving my lips.
Jun 14, 2012
Jun 14, 2012 at 8:57 AM UTC
two of them
to my naked, simian eye
are identical twins
though one, a mere millennium
of light years away, performs its
magical fusion yet today
the other disappeared before
dinosaurs devolved; its phantom
photons now without a source
but both poke pinholes
in the blanket of night, gifting
what some call divine light
not I, for if gods were igniting
those gaseous masses, they would both
yet be furious and fiery white
and not tricking my meager sight,
deceiving me into believing, there is
eternity in an eternally dying sky
May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 10:43 PM UTC
So many nights I stayed up late with him
smothered by smoke and darkness,
talking about freedom, listing all the reasons
I couldn't wait to leave this place
but it was never the small town I minded so much
as the ever present loneliness.
I remember my art teacher
pointing out that all my ****** artwork
held symbols of evasion
-an open window with views of mountains
shadows fleeing from a slit photograph
an elevator open to reveal an aquarium
Always things opening
to reveal something better
My thoughts are not chiseled in stone
my eyes are not cold marble,
they do not remain still enough
to know permanence—
They only speak escapism
My dreams and fears
are not geometric and carefully calculated.
They are horribly bohemian, fluttering and
echoing the uncertainty
of a bird's f l *i g
h
t*
I am always planning evacuation routes,
building gypsy caravans in the basements of my mind
I will always be hightailing
through the hedges and fences
put up by friends and family
I have been working on my vanishing act
for the past 16 years and
none of you will see it coming.
And I do not like to show people
the ways I have been broken, so I hide the evidence
In that sense I am a perfect houdini
-a successful illusionist, a stunt performer
I've learned that many questions like handcuffs can be avoided and evaded
as I have become able to regurgitate small white lies like keys at will
There is one escape
that I have never granted myself
the release of a blade
the empty prevarication of pain
I never cut, never slit, never shed my blood
I guess I've always been smart enough to know
that a razor doesn't have the power
to stop the *tempest* in my head
I will forever remain a fugitive
and when you look at me and my eyes are glazed
it means I had snuck away to my world
I've packed up and run off
and you cannot follow me
nor bring me back
no matter how hard you try
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 9:57 PM UTC
Rebellious minds wander through enlightenment
With new found insight into a deeper understanding
An illuminated sense of self - disguised in complexity
Stroking our ego's with a persuasive fascination
Gutless contrarians thriving off schematic exceptions
Objecting to proposals is all that seems formidable
Double edged intellect embracing it's own prevarication
Claiming supremacy as the better half of the equation
One more plagiarized thought to dwell on
Re-occurrence of Ideals in plain lucidity
Come crawling forth from the genetic sea
To stain our mind with a rhetorical monotony
Monolithic horizons expanding out of view
A facade of a paradise - lost in a new weary age
These frail structures collapse and rebuild
reclaiming everything that we once had known
Jun 3, 2013
Jun 3, 2013 at 7:11 PM UTC
#Anonymous (1730s ?)
In good King Charles's golden days,
When Loyalty no harm meant;
A Furious High-Church man I was,
And so I gain'd Preferment.
Unto my Flock I daily Preached,
Kings are by God appointed,
And Damn'd are those who dare resist,
Or touch the Lord's Anointed.
***And this is law, I will maintain
Unto my Dying Day, Sir.
That whatsoever King may reign,
I shall be Vicar of Bray, Sir!***
When Royal James possessed the crown,
And popery grew in fashion;
The Penal Law I hooted down,
And read the Declaration:
The Church of Rome I found would fit
Full well my Constitution,
And I had been a Jesuit,
But for the Revolution.
And this is Law, &c.
When William our Deliverer came,
To heal the Nation's Grievance,
I turned the Cat in Pan again,
And swore to him Allegiance:
Old Principles I did revoke,
Set conscience at a distance,
Passive Obedience is a Joke,
A Jest is non-resistance.
And this is Law, &c.;
When Royal Ann became our Queen,
Then Church of England's Glory,
Another face of things was seen,
And I became a Tory:
Occasional Conformists base
I Damn'd, and Moderation,
And thought the Church in danger was,
From such Prevarication.
And this is Law, &c.;
When George in Pudding time came o'er,
And Moderate Men looked big, Sir,
My Principles I changed once more,
And so became a Whig, Sir.
And thus Preferment I procured,
From our Faith's great Defender,
And almost every day abjur'd
The Pope, and the Pretender.
And this is Law, &c.;
The Illustrious House of Hanover,
And Protestant succession,
To these I lustily will swear,
Whilst they can keep possession:
For in my Faith, and Loyalty,
I never once will falter,
But George, my lawful king shall be,
Except the Times should alter.
And this is Law, &c;.
Mar 22, 2017
Mar 22, 2017 at 11:06 PM UTC
I’m faking and my lips are lying
My eyes do not say I love you anymore
But I need you.
My mind doesn’t want you to leave
But my heart does not want to stay
I can’t see myself alone
And I can’t let you go
But keeping you inside,
Has become an imaginary situation.
I’m faking and my lips are lying
My fondness cannot see you suffering
And my soul does not want to hurt you,
But the magic affection has become extinct.
Truth and Falsehood are sharing the same bed,
Each of them trying to stay longer.
Evasion and prevarication decided to stay long time ago,
But today, without feeling remorse
I have decided not to fake anymore.
I’m not faking and my lips are telling the truth.
Oct 19, 2010
Oct 19, 2010 at 10:17 AM UTC
The road to truth has many immure & acquiescent turns
Many tough battles with fire has left marks from many burns
Gruesomely the darkest hours of life are in the nugatory lies
The state of mind conforms with with deception as it so complies
It repeats on and on in the wild confines of a diabolical sequel
Its seems life is so riddled with impractical & daunting ways
People with poisoned minds, so narcissistic & shameful as it stays
To intersect with a soul of opulent loyalty & truth is seldom & blessed
But the severity of impeccability & prevarication having a fine line,
is a realization so strongly stressed...
©Michael P. Smith
Mar 17, 2013
Mar 17, 2013 at 6:31 AM UTC
I all too often wonder
if you've at all been working
on your plethoric problems,
or if you yet merely continue
to use and abuse those who find themselves around you
in order to distract yourself from yourself;
to beguile even your very own self
via id, ego, and superego illusions
in lieu of making real personal progress.
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 12:16 PM UTC
Hypocritical catastrophe,
Irreverent duplicity,
Luminarial ludiocrity,
Nonsensical impetuosity.
Flippy floppy, slippy sloppy,
Blamey gamey, shame, shame, shame.
Constitutional incongruity,
Jesuitical dictatoriality,
Oxymoronic partiality,
Nepotistic surreality.
Materialistic abnormality,
Monetaristic conviviality ,
Ritualistic mediocrity,
Histrionic philanthropy.
Gotten rotten, misbegotten
Seldom truthful, lie, lie, lie.
Misdirection genuflection,
Malefaction justification,
Incarceration implication,
Resignation profliferation.
Prevarication reiteration,
Damnation indication,
Malefaction direction
Undetected discretion.
Flippy floppy, slippy sloppy,
Blamey gamey, shame, shame, shame.
Gotten rotten, misbegotten
Seldom truthful, lie, lie, lie.
Apr 10, 2018
Apr 10, 2018 at 3:49 PM UTC
The radio song itself had died on the dashboard
the new abjudicator had shorn
the Moon like a clip board,
whose patient shadows wane,
those cornea headlights now incessant,
our sudden rasp of thirst
seemed to last until the first Sprig.
Moments we shared later recoiled,
our needless surrender held no prevarication,
yet others less incurious could only wish away this
dirt-road.
Nov 10, 2012
Nov 10, 2012 at 3:32 PM UTC
A perfect inadequacy, in theory, is
inconsequential compared to an imperishable
half truth. This is calling a clear plastic cup a glass,
using a smile to implore that the contents are
half full, when in all actuality it was a full cup
tilted to the side and slowly poured out.
One can be morally sound as well as be pathetic.
But any man would prefer not to be both, and as
a Man's dignity starts to feel like a half empty cup,
any truth stretched has the ability to seem
palatable even if the fabrication is deemed
inconceivable. That is when listening instead of
speaking forms golden silence, because
confusion when dealing with humility makes
the act of prevarication go undetected.
Word for word will become word against no matter
how indefatigable the liar is. Time will always
uncover falsities, as only truth can stand the test.
This is why the pathetic poet begins his endeavor
writing in pen, and as insecurities infiltrate intellect,
a pencil comes to be appropriate, which is an
afterthought to be read through smeared sentences.
And after the last period is placed, adhering to
a correct structure, the only way to regain
integrity can be attained by poetic justice.
Which is lead poisoning acquired
from a number two pencil.
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 6:00 PM UTC
Tell me truly who you are,
not from afar, but to my ear.
Do not fear: I shall not castigate,
excoriate. Dissemble not: No
equivocation. prevarication.
Tell me truly what's in your heart.
Is terror there, or guilt? Rage ablaze
from needs unmet? Do unhealed hurts
leave you reeling in a maelstrom of
doubt? Open up your heart
and let your agonies fly out.
In gentle ways let us discuss
worth of self. Let light penetrate hate,
mollify madness, assuage pain.
Let your forthcoming,
my love for your realness,
heal us both.
TOD HOWARD HAWKS
Jun 23, 2025
Jun 23, 2025 at 10:12 PM UTC
I had some sort of '..ectomy
they took something away from me
and I have to be
satisfied.
How I cried when I learnt that nothing will last
nothing's tied or held fast by the life that we cast
so carelessly away.
Standing I sway and wonder just,
what was it they took?
scarcely daring to look
I look anyway which reminds me of a summer day
many years ago
which is prevarication that hesitation before I know
what it was that they took and will I ever
go again
make a show again
I can't stand the pain so finally I take the plunge
lunge with my eyes
Surprise
whatever it was that went can't be seen
almost as if it had never been and I'm just playing some scene
in a hospital drama.
I blame it on Karma
I must have been bad in the long ago where now I know
that was wrong
So I say so long to what it may have been in the '...ectomy
which is probably
just that scene that they expect of me
that I thought it might be
and I remain
ignorant.
May 9, 2013
May 9, 2013 at 8:27 AM UTC
You aim your arrow
and directly impact my lapel.
without any contemplation
you perforate me with your aimless spike,
making me vulnerable to your senseless aches.
Aiming without consulting,
without sparing consequences
or even considering if I'm willing and able;
to follow you again,
to fall victim to your games,
or be subjected to that feeling, where I
concede my power to your prevarication.
Notches that penetrate my elbows,
traction attracting my exhilaration,
you release the handle with your erred hands…
hunting me like easy prey,
destabilizing my bravery,
making me day dream about possibilities
of things I thought, were obsolete for me.
I hear the call and refute it,
but the sound of your arrow continues to pursue me.
Futile is my attempt to dodge it..,
my stiff body resists the impact,
the tip has pierced my heart, poisoning it with adoration.
Again I am smitten, denying it is foolish.
Like a sweet debutante, I hear his footsteps coming.
My beloved has arrived with waning moons;
to locate my nevus,
to play with my polarities,
to satiate my fissures,
to explore my possibilities,
to climb mountains of passion
and hope-filled constellations
with Moons on my navel
and the darts of love piercing my back.
Blessed be your indiscreet arrow!
For your tip has pierced through my resistance
of blindly falling in love once more.
LeydisProse
2/20/2018
https://m.facebook.com/LeydisProse/
********************************************************************************************************************************************************
Feb 20, 2018
Feb 20, 2018 at 1:39 PM UTC
Prevarication permits pretend perception, presenting
piquantly piqued, pimply pimping ******* plucky
pulchritudinous previously pusillanimous, prevalently
puckish, psychic packman, pokemon playing proletarian
puppeteer pygmy, peevishly ***** plummy, plumy,
pompously pushy, pampered, prefabricated pinchbeck,
pokily plying plowshear, plodding peregrination, pied
piper pitifully peppy pornographic potato pealing,
parsimonious paradoxical protagonist, proposing
preposterous panicky pacification plots, prioritization
pertinent penultimate peroration, perhaps perceiving
perjuring, perplexing, perverting puzzling pronouncements
projecting pulsating pixelated pulpy pinball pinging
packets prompting pacific, poetic, phlegmatic purplish
psoriasis plagued, plumbum pallor pallid, Paleolithic
protuberance pronounced, psychosomatic prohibitionist,
polarizing perfunctory peculiarly progressive, patriotic
postmodern pathologically proud paternal panache,
peripatetic panaceas portraying prescient perfidious
puerile president, predominantly proposing parochial
principles, plenty public parking, purposefully
promoting pharisee phalanxes, pilates practicing
paragons, perennially peaceably proficient protesters,
profitable polygamy, pugnacious pitbull powerball
players, pandering polyandry, propagating professional
palindrome pensive peeping people, peddling,
proselytizing predicating prostitution, proliferating
phenomenally, populist persona promulgated peyote
phased physicians pioneering prescription promoting
paradisiacal pricey photographic pictures, placating
phrenetic physical perturbation partaking place
purchased (paid paltry pennies) por palatial piazza.
Jun 7, 2018
Jun 7, 2018 at 7:48 PM UTC
This love/hate relationship
With
Human races is
Making me crazier
Than the creationist
Over and over
Repeating the verses
Conversing with ghosts
Who immerse them
In worthlessness
When in response
Only silence reverberates
And the faint something
Of nothing is heard
By the good word
Prevarication
Reassured
By the spirited leaders
Atop bottom-feeders
Still feeding their people
The crumbs of deceivers
Though stale it prevails
To curtail what the famished
In their desperation
Need filling
When vanished
Their saviors abandoned their
Faith itself banished
To turn to
And yearn through
The darkest night dim
Light's delusional hope
They'll be welcomed back in
A kingdom
Of the Perfect One's
Glory,
Behold!
Lording over their souls
Like a dragon does gold
May 30, 2019
May 30, 2019 at 1:40 PM UTC
Insignificant chatter looms over my decaying ear.
The tantalizing haze floods the hidden floor boards,
the stained walls.
The prevarication is located in the detrimental couches.
The blissfulness of your ignorance feeds the self-inflicted smoke of their sensuous cigarettes.
We're all dead.
The instant gratification hovers over the greedy fingers as they dance across their contemplation of sanity.
The platonic conversationalists seek more than the lonesome intoxication.
And I, the flickering light caress the delicate chipped walls.
We're all dead.
Mar 12, 2016
Mar 12, 2016 at 11:00 PM UTC
Surprise overcomes
Words seem nonsensical
Fact checks become
Daily headlines
Pure prevarication
Not mere vagueness
Untruths, shams
Two-faced attempts
To cheat to win
In a battle of ideas
Better still, flooding
Air-waves, all media
With bogus pre-text
That fend off
A battle
From ever being fought
Fabricated?
More than merely falsification
Calling truth a lie
Shout-downs over debate
A campaign designed to
Discredit, debunk and divide
* (back in the day we called this **** and bull)
Oct 26, 2020
Oct 26, 2020 at 2:25 PM UTC
less than half a dozen hours
remain here in Lake Woebegone,
an idyllic enclave, where legal tender,
liquid assets, minted monies
by the metric ton
loot, et cetera replaced
with sharing home good humor spun
prevarication, or a pun
where this Norwegian bachelor farmer,
now sets timer counting down to the one
hundred and fifth International Women's Day,
hence dada's taxi service necessitated
(asper my own volition) none
forsaking a substantial block of time
to ferry (via 2009 Hyundai Sonata)
thine eldest (of deux
darling damsels doggedly, diligently,
and definitively) whose maternal hue
ma in instincts (staking out
vocational, interpersonal, Jew
dish hiss lee courting biological objectives
Since matriculating
At University Of Pennsylvania
she seriously eyed
the engineering curriculum,
and as an inherent
high achieving civilian, this rugged
cerebral terra firmae terrain
emitting a signal calling she knew
tubby meant foe her, thus this proud papa his new
wish availing self less father summoned,
pressed, and mustered joyriding
glommed within mental motor queue
thus despite experiencing a minor panic attack
(with nausea more pronounced than usual), aye
did not want Eden (her first name)
to feel disgruntled toward pop (hood rather die)
as opposed to slacking off where fatherhood
concerned strove to be a beneficial guy
especially before the stroke of midnight
will usher well nigh
till next year long overdue attention,
now bequeathed during these twenty four hours
when non gun shy
textile women (shunted subaltern
second class workers)
in New York (circa 1907),
but said event opened to dispute,
but less in doubt
historical records indicate
1914 International Women's Day held on March 8
since then continued along
a linkedin chain in case you wondered why.
Mar 8, 2018
Mar 8, 2018 at 9:16 PM UTC
Unbeknownst to me if royal
gilded crests comprised
my rusty dust caked coat of arms
hence, I take liberty successfully farms
productive crop to contrive fictitious
Medieval Age forebears
with favorable charms
strong agile hands
hurling crude accouterments
centuries prior to invention of firearms,
which weapons (of mass sieve construction)
privy to proto gendarmes,
this inventiveness of mine conjures
courageous knights in shining armor,
perhaps monogrammed,
hammered chain metal,
nonetheless such endeavor quite a chore
where love's labors not lost,
viz hub bully accepting, condoning,
and employing embellishments extempore,
whereby solar rays alight,
flickr, and glint glore
re: us astral motifs, the stellar
craftsmanship one (even a poor,
indigent destitute beggar
like yours truly)
could not ignore
exquisite baldric, exotic, and heraldic
trappings incorporating magical lore
aesthetically pleasing
fascinating, and appealing to one poor
uneducated disheveled rhapsodic bohemian
incumbent jibber jabbering, hallucinating,
and fancying deplorable basket case to restore
himself, the legitimate true heir,
who could double as
courtly jesting troubadour,
whose slain grand papa Aaron Harris
violently ousted during Uber Vodafone War
constitutes dreamy gotcha your
attention fabricated and
facilitated to Zoar,
an actual ancient city
anachronistically inserted here
thanks to Lot, whose Biblical reference
Google made me aware,
which ye probably care
nary a fig about, but
placename linkedin mere
to allow, enable and provide bare,
lee tenuous appeal dare
ring me to trump
poetic formality near
rolly returning full circle (one tough Job)
manufacturing prevarication
recounting "FAKE" heir
essentially envisioning, imagining,
and jimmying gallant
high in the saddle career
timeless lifeline chess piece
of centuries gone by
enshrouded with reverence by this air
rent considerably less provocative
then missives by Baudelaire.
Jan 15, 2019
Jan 15, 2019 at 10:07 PM UTC