"proliferate" poems
Corpses proliferate in soaring violence; heirloom of franchise and eminence— perish in erosion.
Timid denizens of derision, cynicism in roaring silence — optimism’s paling vapor—commodity of Indecision, our halcyon days forgotten.
Chosen token of audacity; the onyx maladroit feigns, prevaricating beneath the Sacred canopy.
Etudes of apathy; attrition unlamented; streams of guile— quixotic squall conversely merge — veiled conceit, eloquent arrow of equivocation.
The policy of attenuation.
Treason’s vine obscured beneath the blind surf of consent.
© 2014 & 2016 W. S. Warner
Jul 20, 2014
Jul 20, 2014 at 3:12 PM UTC
Why not engineer all the mistakes away?
We could evolve into machines.
Then there wouldn't be cells
To proliferate
Uncontrollably.
There wouldn't be thoughts
Only wires.
I wouldn't end up at your door.
I wouldn't care
About the valleys,
Mountain ranges,
That your white cotton shirt stretches over.
We could be ones and zeroes-
A code for no heartbreak.
Jan 21, 2013
Jan 21, 2013 at 10:38 PM UTC
Against the saturated
Horizon of dawn,
Loitering in the dark timbre
Of emerging consciousness -
Dissipating somnolence
And preemptive despair,
Tacitly adumbrate the
Yawning abyss.
Chastened by the cunning and
Lubricious nihilism,
Igniting fermented provocations,
Silent subterfuge; death,
By mirth - the inane;
Lament of the mundane.
Fallow paradigms, accretions of
The last gasp -
Evaporating empty liturgies
Of suspicion;
Charity and equanimity -
Lost in confinement,
Triumphant avarice bearing
Descendants
Of intransigence;
Wielding imperious
Schemes of orthodoxy.
Pollard fragments of
Silken tapestry,
Miasma draped depression
Abridging;
Conversely,
Permuted flurries of anxiety
Dislodge
The vestiges of meaning
That abide
In brazen equivocation.
Tributaries of dogma reach
Their confluence,
Watershed moment,
Numinous effusion
Streams naked epiphany,
The precarious vision -
A gesture of providence,
Certainty and contingency;
Gratuitously derivative, life
Equals choice.
Verdant branches of intention;
And opportunity the vine,
Live forward -
The pen, my voice,
Piquant conduit pouring,
Exuberant wine.
Footprints found in givenness
Underline,
Penumbrae of my soul;
Mirrored silhouettes,
Thoughts and words engender;
And in verse adorn
Fecund soil, Line after line,
The cosmos altered,
Continuum of permanence -
Artist’s art articulating
Essence of my imagination,
I proliferate, I design
Phrases unique,
Participation mystique.
Words creating world,
The apparatus of infinity
Heidegger, ontologically precise,
Language -
The house of Being,
Ineffable, Promethean
Literary devise -
Envisioning possibility,
And abundance to allow,
I occur
Inhabit
Manifest
Future phenomena
Experienced as now.
©2008 & ©2011 W.S. Warner
Sep 16, 2011
Sep 16, 2011 at 2:02 PM UTC
It’s a puzzle
thinking what is salient
complications become proliferate
Hands on quarter position
evoking my inner senses
too late in one’s niche
It’s my inhibition
brought me in subliminal
My entire life,
without her presence
Cumulative heuristics
with other girls
and other boys
drawing some vague experiences
And I just thought
we can’t hold on
together
but we can move on
It’s crazy as I think
of you and me again
upon my emotional scrutiny
You're my drama.
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 12:14 PM UTC
1.Emotional obesity
Her enlarged ego, she proudly wore
as if it was an impregnable armor
what an observer could see was
an emotionally obese siren on the prowl.
her mate too was thoroughly
compatible to her,
when they danced, two enlarged
egos rubbed in a way really wrong.
2.Ego trouble
Every ego is different in shape, size and measure
but in essence all egos are capable of making troubles.
3.Killing ego
Killing ego isn't about blood and gore, it's good riddance,
that's the way to make light go euphoric, proliferate.
4.Ego goes in to a bag
Every individual ego soon finds on its own,
an equally capacious ego bag to carry it around.
5.System breaker
When an ego problem seeps in to a system,
it'd establish it's nuisance value; helps to easily sell it.
Mar 20, 2016
Mar 20, 2016 at 9:14 AM UTC
Harvested perfect eggs,
of the mother to be,
are kept, in deep freeze.
enriched sperms of paid donor
(looked after well
to keep perfect fit)
are getting impatient.
the bee, fertilizer nonpareil
handpicked and hired,
fertility specialist,
didn't keep his word;
away on leave,
"pollinating vacation"
over phone, he explains,
"my last chance to
proliferate my clan,
wife is excited,
need to make it happen now
this time, of the year,
the chances are the best"
*a melancholy moon, barren woman
silently weeps moonbeams
over the sparse, still thinning forest*.
Sep 27, 2012
Sep 27, 2012 at 8:03 PM UTC
Bitterness pours into
The mind, akin to
sulfuric acid in dark ink
****** chemicals
Blossoming to clouds
in the vessel
Of consciousness
Becoming phantoms, ghosts
All manner of nightmare
Haunts, parasitic, they proliferate
Be aware, they live
in your nighttime anger
The kind you sleep on
To sleep, perchance to
DREAM
May 10, 2017
May 10, 2017 at 2:07 AM UTC
Achhh I'm just a simpleton
addled, not all there
why and where the subtleties
a being of no cares
I move the planes I know
a traveler of doubts
every place, everywhere I go
always an escape, an out
Never to be pinned down
or succumb to wiles or winds
what goes comes around
a matter of my sins
Threads and strings proliferate
pieces of my broken heart
wouldn't it be so great
if I weren't so torn
apart
May 3, 2018
May 3, 2018 at 7:48 PM UTC
Dressed as humans, we pretend to be civilized,
glib talk, fine clothes, all smiles;
conceal the naked ape, trying our best, with pretenses,
but, it bares its teeth, at the first chance.
we know its a game of concealment and camouflage,
still we pretend everything is hunky- dory,
I am a military strategist who loves that art,
sweetheart, you a con artist par excellence,
we are the best of this species,
we thrive, prosper and proliferate.
come, let's dance, dance in this unholy hour.
Nov 5, 2012
Nov 5, 2012 at 4:55 AM UTC
galaxy.
cosmic.
constellation
explosion
now.
present.
three-dimensional.
zero hour
infinite
tunnel vision
proliferate.
obliterate
paradox
existential
hypnotize
twilight
melancholy
rush
orbit
choir
parallel
sublime
conscious
claim
strong
vindicated
frequent.
fallen
free
secrets
delicate
envelop
common
echo
violent
beg
complex.
release
natural
heartbeat
determined
fear
daring
battlefront
efficient.
wine
courageous
scarred
wise
poison
trust.
eternity
confident
ecstasy
ordinance
splinter
thin
darkness
reverent
veil
admirable
unremitting
acidic
lethal
responsible
Jan 21, 2013
Jan 21, 2013 at 4:39 PM UTC
exhaust’d thru months of
stress’d quandaries. have
clear’d the worst. and
i ripped through older
pages, stealing the words
that sound’d best. the
only ones
able to fluidly
patch fragments. brake.
been a long couple day(s);
singular, i guess. and
the sassy black chick,
she doesn’t give a ****
never did. and friend is
asking why, asking
questions of the sky.
- what if what’s complicated
is so because we never
let it be easy?
infectious thoughts of
what to do to complicate, or
of how we might proliferate.
and ringing:
- why not just be easy?
and ringing:
- you’re just going to have to
stop having fun for a while.
and ringing:
- i mean, not quit, but
ease up. don’t spend
your money.
knowing is ninety-percent
of the problem with
stubbornness. and remem-
bering when first told
to get on with it –
to let go –
the other ten-percent.
and being one day closer –
to be one minute closer –
brings restlessness. and
i lay my head to rest, if
only to pass time as lids
squeeze light from eyes.
and thoughts, peaceful a
moment prior, begin to
rage. to thrash and stomp.
to draw from dead qualms
and questions. and past
turbulences become reali-
gn’d. yet,
most were left behind or
under the Pinelawn.
something missing,
memories of how her
**** were like tiger claws.
brake. get on with it.
and the vessels of my eye
throb in ticks. forcing
metronome. and i count the
seconds, the seconds
on minutes
on hours
on eternity. and if
i were here – if
i were awake – when
the sun came ‘round,
then perhaps the metro-
nomes tick would cease. or,
let it go, get on with the
passing of time.
getting on with it, to
force the dawn sun
to rise of me.
Jan 31, 2013
Jan 31, 2013 at 9:32 PM UTC
On the riveting tiger skin,
intricate tantric motifs
nature has deftly sewn,
indicative of the mystery
of communion predicted
by the stars, the fish in
intergalactic oceans
that dream beyond time,
her lush, **** body spreads
in anticipation of the union
foretold,in palm leaf scrolls of yore
the ancients wrote, as revealed to them,
defying all human logic.
Shiva, merges with Shakthi
Lingam, the ******* plough of creation
seeks Yoni, the fertile awakened
feminine soil that awaits sowing.
The churning of the milky sea begins
in excited, repitative, motions
till nectar secretes, bringing sublimation.
Then begins transformation,
she becomes the devine lust
of the universe, the receiver of pollen,
to create, proliferate, sustain and spread,
the circle of mystery widens every moment.
The tiger skin on which she lies
before him assumes its grand version now,
it's the sky, without a beginning or end,
she now is the drawing of the universe
reduced to the symbolism of female body,
a pure white piece of cloud, taken by wild wind
above hills, dales, that in course of circumnavigation
gets pregnant, then, rains in torrents over the earth.
the union, an energy in waves, spreads
creating fertile imagination, in all beings
earth in green pulsates, with the universe,
the rhapsody resulted is in all colors.
Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 8:19 AM UTC
Daffodils honour us with their diaphanous emerging,
familiar old friends, it’s welcome yellow fellows well
met. We greet you gratefully from your submerging
floral heads mutate, from green bud to golden bell.
Nature, benefactor of all provision, gifts indulgence
plays host to these visitors for sadly too brief a stay
endows bright vistas which radiate in rare effulgence
springing in Spring this seasonal and annual display.
Daffodils grow row on row hereabout and all around
a host of them as Wordsworth’s great poem extolled;
flowers that proliferate and thrive upon waste ground
gilding the darkest spaces by their alchemy into gold.
Like gold a noble daffodil yields a treasure for the eye,
an array of optical pleasure then doffs its cap goodbye.
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 11:58 PM UTC
in the words of
a reverend and a King
human salvation
lies in the hands
of the creatively
maladjusted
defamiliarize the chaos
an absent-minded apparatus
addling brain cells
checks and balances
proliferate a status quo
of enmity and aggression that
propagates oppression and
dismantles genuine political
expression for those outside
the whitewashed coffin
recognize the enemy
in our own eyes as we
eradicate the apathy that
leeches liberty and
fabricates freedom
reformist rhetoric is
too little too late
revolutions are cyclical
and ultimately infantile
so fan the flames of rebellion
destruction precedes creation
raise hell and raze the system
of enmity that pits
7.4 billion
brothers and sisters
against each other
anarchy is order
Jan 19, 2016
Jan 19, 2016 at 1:07 AM UTC
Commonality we've surrendered
the Public House now a seeming relic,
we've been paid with others speculation
and remember convenience always gate crashes,
neighbourhoods now meekly surrender,
still November is our mono chrome
a telling time
stating past standards did exist,
the corner shop is now boarded
primordial no more:
the proliferate supermarkets triumphant
advertising opportunities for local people !
Nov 15, 2012
Nov 15, 2012 at 3:07 PM UTC
you know that...
kramer vs. kramer
incident?
the fran...
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PR_fprintf(err, "\t-f Follow the <eof>\n");
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tail C....
waiter! waiter!
ah...
garçon!
ergo?
françaizes....
willy-nilly:
francis sayz...
or rather... said...
kinda picky, i must admid...
and i "thought"
the english were bad...
minding the huguenots...
oh look who's coming,
a steamroller...
steamroller who?
give it about an hour or
so... we'll get the crêpe in
the end...
it's like...
you really want to ask a question...
but ask it...
in the proliferate dimension?
you know what drunk munchies
looks like?
looks likes so:
oh ****
that croissant didn't do it...
think think think, man! think!
frying pan...
refrigerated butter...
two eggs, one slice of white
bread...
beat the eggs into a scrambled
egg goo...
then dip the slice of white bread
into it... soak it...
then fry it...
attempt to melt some
brie onto it...
add some apricot jam,
or honey into the composition...
**** me...
in synch.! ladies and gentlemen!
we have ourselves....
a ******* orchestra!
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 10:05 PM UTC
The crown is crowned…
Queens’ skull filled and fit
The crowd yelled and hell…
Long live the great queen
And, the kingdom untied…
Out of scary and harass
It begins a royal customs…
Concert is growing up high
Sunshine, freely moving…
And everyone face is filled
Behold! Queens’ speech…
Is begin spread, to crowd
The crown is a crown…
Not every crown is a crown
Our crown is enormous…
The greatest crown ever
We are inimitable to rule…
This world, stock and barrel
We must proliferate…
Our well prominent desires
We call all to behold…
Our intention, will not free
Our invasion is, for all…
To lead the world wholly
Not for, to enchain again…
But, to design new hope
And, this crown is our…
Shall cross the threshold all
No stallions and horses…
Shall bear our heaviness
Lion and lioness shall sob…
Because of fear and fairness
No elephant will dance…
On any elephantine floor
No monkeys to climb up…
Any tree to chomp a fruit
And, rodents will not free…
For robbing others’ stuff
We may stay in, longer…
Stirring every living on gravel
Some may give in, and…
Other will be tardy to breathe
Lay the blame on no one…
But on someone like thee
We are sentient for that…
Grubby games been in playing
Corruption is a hobby for…
Everyone living on this terrain
It grounds unawareness and…
Uprisings to this living space
Immoralities subjugated all…
Elders and younger living gaps
Bribery awfully deep within…
The hearts and no compassion
Extravagancy and fraud hit…
Every narrow, in this legroom
Everyone claiming the high…
Possession and supremacy to all
Needy get no crumb of aid…
Because, everyone claim is poor
We call not on behalf but…
To stay in you are and stay safe
May 21, 2020
May 21, 2020 at 1:41 PM UTC
The horizon lies asleep in a grey blanket
In a sea of myriad figures,
And an unimaginable silhouette.
The engineering of black feathers,
Sets ablaze hazy azure weathers.
The Art Decorates Towers,
Like giants with arms outstretched,
Look down commanding superiority
Over the volatile beauty of the wretched.
Who branded this Pandora’s Box to be garbage?
Stop turning your faces away
Like this is some butchery,
Or an abhorable carnage.
The dogs have repeatedly protested against the injustice
The heavy wind suppresses their voices and entices
A seduction of inarticulate silence.
Brothers who embrace us,
Have known nothing of such malices’.
Only the birds are left unenchanted;
Because they fly too high to be pervaded.
I hear children’s voices
And mothers’ too,
And taste the flies and insects,
And all the devils they shoo;
Because they understand not the complexities of a civilization,
They have never rendered their thoughts,
Never undergone no filtration.
The unconquerable spirit of this world,
Has made them savage,
Their claws curled.
In the heat, in the light,
In the plight
Which brings the cold night.
The sunlight here is too dense to penetrate,
Therefore it unabashedly spills over,
No opening,
Just a gateless emptiness on which to concentrate,
Lives and lives here,
Forever proliferate.
With none to remember their faces,
And no mortal soul to commemorate.
Dust settles upon the fingertips which talk.
This place is deemed unfit,
Unsuitable for a walk.
Yet birds, animals and humans alike,
Have stated their preference of what they like.
This land is perpetually theirs to ****
Passion resides here,
In this unintended landfill.
Jan 1, 2017
Jan 1, 2017 at 11:57 AM UTC
It is July and it is Sunday.
A dark, restless Sunday.
Morning hangs like incense: suspended on the kestrel's wooden wings.
Lucidity is but an inky tumult blotting the night's waning stars:
disparate, faceless grey among a growing blackness.
The smoke of a short-lived fire.
The wind hastens. The arms of a birch fold and the church's vane rotates.
The theatre! The anticipation.
The muteness of the rain on a distant field.
Approaching the red-brick house that burns with darkening rooms:
streaks of silver gilding the margin of it's cloaked black eyes.
A hammer falls on this great, wide anvil:
scales of iron scatter and resonate in the upper atmosphere.
I cannot bear to look.
Not far to the left, at the terminal of a tunnel of some fluted grey fabric,
white plumes rise and expand and shadow at the edges.
I walk toward them, over the ghost of an old rain, to a familiar garden:
heather and clover proliferate in it's borders - they are to be hoed constantly.
Hedges of yew and box are to be stripped of the green coats
spring afforded them, tailored to my will and at my expense.
I fight life and nature equally. Forming a transient perfection here.
Perfection soon to be enveloped by the lavender and the stocks,
then themselves by the bind-weed that has taken to their blooms and stems,
to my very roots. All is sustained by this rain, this depressive dampness.
Jul 22, 2012
Jul 22, 2012 at 7:54 AM UTC
*None would imagine,
a benign imp,
blithe, light footed
triggers a surge
of aesthetic spasms
******* of the brain,
moves incognito
on this high podium
beside your chair
when you
read your poem
just like when you're
in a creative reverie
Every time it's a mystery
how she sets music
within every word
how then a rhythm
in progression
is unleashed
flowing in to your
poetic musings
to create an image concrete,
correlating to the wave
beating in your brain
Heart, soul and spirit
merge in to one
poetic words to mark
what your being gathered
from spring flower fields
and scorched earth alike
all the poet gathered
at the receiving end
of the slings and arrows
of outrageous fortune,
is set in tune,
all of you gathered here
for the poetry session
walking through the labyrinths
inebriated by poetic wine,
munch yourself bit by bit
in the cadence of poetic beats,
as past, present and dreams
in many small instalments
pour in from the beginning.
What the poet offers
takes, each one listener
to a world different,
one begets many
images proliferate.
They will relish all this
and be born again
within themselves
later on, leisurely with light
peeping out of their eyes,
an alchemy none can explain*
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 8:25 AM UTC
*There are secrets I do not tell
even to myself.
They are the same secrets
the cherry bossoms
know when they
proliferate the cherry trees.
Even as they prepare
to fall like confetti.
They are the
babbling secrets
Of the mountain streams
as thier waters bounce stunned
into the rocks of the rapids.
Hush whispers the librarian
As the rows
and volumes of books.
Keep their dusty secrets
in her silence.
In the garden
The fluted speakers
Of the morning glory.
Sing only silence
Falling asleep
into dreaming nights.
Just about audible
the taunting voices
Of the
whip_poor_will
Never tell
Never tell
Never tell.*
Aug 29, 2016
Aug 29, 2016 at 10:49 PM UTC
Originate
Meditate
Hallucinate
Dessegregate
Mediate
Alleviate
Try not to hate
Love your mate
Deliberate
Opinionate
Don't procrastinate
Appreciate
one's own fate
Love is fate
A one world state
Human freight
The number eight
A white & black state
Never hate
The human race
Proliferate
Communicate
A gentle trait
The broken crate
A heavy weight
Or just too late
Now devastate
Appreciate
Depreciate
Fabricate
Emulate
The truth dilate
Special date
The animals we ate
Guilt debate
The edge serrate
A better rate
Deliberate
Fascinate
Deviate
Reinstate
Liberate
To moderate
Recreate
Detonate
Annihiliate
Atomic fate
Mediate
Clear the slate
Activate
Now radiate
Food on plate
Gravitate
Now simulate
A perfect place
A heavy weight
Is it too late
Racial debate
Participate
Love & Hate
Just create
Never break
A firm had shake
The State's on the take
The girl is late
A baby to take
A mother aches
A heart breaks
Alleviate
Just fornicate
Now devastate
Appreciate
Depreciate
Fabricate
Emulate
A ******* child
The youth's irate
A mind to take
Facilitate
Deliberate
Fascinate
Deviate
Reinstate
It's getting late
The Earth's own weight
Designate your love as fate
At ninety-eight we all rotate
To Liberate
Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 10:09 AM UTC
The arc is long and it bends towards -
and then away and seems to circumvent the gateway to better, to truer and rather it dips and, for some unfathomable reason, detours through bone aching drivel which we sit through lest we cause offence and in defence we smile until someone offers a glass and we can distract the conversation to something real and relevant and alive – preferably with alcohol.
The arc is long and it bends towards -
and then it rainbows, so you’d think that there’d be no excuse but to look up and wonder at the way in which each colour blends, leaving no distinct edge, no start or finish, leaving you in no doubt why spectrum is an apt term to capture diversity with harmony, and leaving you staring curiously while the world walks on, heads down, focusing on the familiarity of their grey, woollen comfort zones.
The arc is long and it bends towards -
the other side, it crosses divides, where bridges were long fractured, and diversions had left the land desolate - and now we can repopulate, reconnect and proliferate something that binds a kindlier fraternity wedded to justice indiscriminately.
The arc is long,
bending, not broken.
Feb 11, 2022
Feb 11, 2022 at 4:12 PM UTC
Nahhhh-ka-tomi Plaza
Its a place we all know, too **** well
Nahhhh-ka-tomi Plaza
John McClane **** sure, excelled
A simple Christmas soiree, ***** and drugs proliferate
Hans crashing the gate, with Red Dawn, to liberate
Nahhhh-ka-tomi Plaza
Hans and Co, heading off to hell
Nahhhh-ka-tomi Plaza
John McClane **** sure as f*ck, excelled
Six hundred million, in negotiable bearer bonds their prize
Not Brazilians, but Germans, as terrorists, disguised
Nahhhh-ka-tomi Plaza
Expensive suits getting ruined, no one got dry cleaning bills
Nahhhh-ka-tomi Plaza
Takagi had a walk on part, I hope that, I'm in his will
Counting up the bullets, none left to be spared
Putting Hans on the pavement, Huey Lewis (lookalike) can't be repaired
Nahhhh-ka-tomi Plaza
Bearer bonds upon the sidewalk, wish I was there
Nahhhh-ka-tomi Plaza
Pocketing some negotiables, nevermore financial cares
Nov 30, 2016
Nov 30, 2016 at 8:20 AM UTC
A poem, that's not a poem
but gets 2 thousands reads
lands on the Daily
and makes my heart bleed
So much fighting, back biting,
such inverted sense
of there own
proliferate nonsense
Drowning out the artful voices
of the souls that bleed
poetic choices
Sitting in their towers
built from dung
measuring how meanly
they are hung
while many other voices
chime in and you can't hear the truth
crowing inside the din
it's like an ache in a tooth!
Some truly beautiful poems
that will hold your heart,
most bearing their souls
and simply enjoying the art!
Connecting on a level
that cares little for 'hearts'
just waiting for someone to say
'Hi, I feel what you wrote'
Not caring about figures, or charts
*Be you one voice under one name
or one voice under many
If one is a vitriolic persona
rest assured the others are just as ugly*
I'd have to give HP
a 2/10 this week
Sadly it's impossible to articulate
while being drowned when trying to speak.
Jul 8, 2016
Jul 8, 2016 at 7:16 AM UTC