The night becomes you -
hair coiffed in fashion
illuminated eyes reveal attraction,
the scent of body oil
pervasive,
ambient music evolves
persuasive
savory rhetoric,
cabernet erodes my inhibition
no contrition, turn the ignition.

The night becomes you -
you wear it well  
an amalgam,
ardor and insouciance -
redefining glamour,
ephemeral moments
dial down the sunlight,
I am slain - voice and accent
weave their spell;
black dust coat, white hat,
a pair of posh boots
they live to tell.

The night becomes you
rhyme scheme -  lyrical poetry
sophisticated venue, table for two
ensconced, the
leather lounge,
similitude within difference;
undulation - cadences of
counterpoint -
poise and peril of duality
we inhabit the floor.
Postprandial, conversation extempore;
machinations of intoxicating discourse,
I could drink your words -
artistic milieu- beguiling imagery,
sonant susurrations
penetrate my being.

The night becomes you -
theoretical locutions
phrasing depth and humor,
undiluted amour, tensions resolve
frame by frame,
solidify the affair
and validate the rumor
subsumed in sequence, pulsating,
igniting the sapid interior flame
silver screen ending,
effusive reviews
two hearts collide and form one;
the cherub's arrow finds its aim.

©2008 & 2011 W.S. Warner

I was like the jungle king,
She was like the jungle queen,
She was running ****,
Except wearing those flowers,
And I was wearing the waves,
That kissed me otherwise ****.

All those strange creatures on the beach,
They all ignored us for burning together,
Burning for sin,
Craving for sin,
Like the reptiles being swallowed by their dens,
The **** of a man,
Kissing the pit of a woman,
The evolution of thirst,
The ******* of burst,
Everything protected by the transparent curtains of water.

She was like the jungle queen,
I was like the jungle king,
I was ******* her crude,
Except my censored spermatozoon blushing out,
And she was nowhere to consume,
My sapid feelings in her faked frame.

Translucent is my skull and the fluid surrounding my brain
You can poke and ****
At all the films
Flying through my mind
Dust off the caves deep inside
I like to say I'm illimitable
But you are sublime
We're sapid when it comes
To the deepest depth of
Introspection and
Atypical ways of life
Representing us is
A picture of a tree in each
Season
Our limbs naked one moment
And filled the next
Fragility hasn't just become
An adjective to describe us
It's become part of our
Personalities
And when you're away
I'll have to sway alone
Missing you
Even when the sun is shining
The clouds are raining
Or isolating us
In snow

Felled canvas, blushing colors my life’s stitch ceaselessly applied
What portrait stretches and looms it’s casement to my soul?
If all deeds behold with no aid of cloak, for sins sore shame to hide?
Needle pricked fingers recount thy yarn.
Shall I gaze upon a short winged angel, laced in gutters, where sensuality is defined?
How skillful the likeness of my windblown heart?
What shades of scarlet ooze that aching part?
Will I hesitate looking at past reckless deeds?
Woven with flare but so careless of needs.
Does smugness suspend me in self sapid stitches and ghost like thread for inches and inches?
How large the spool my decent breadth hold, done in shimmering shades, subtended in gold?
Dare I hope it be worthy to admire when shown?
Humble glory, my life, hung behind a King’s throne?

O' beauty fish! whose scales shine the upper sea:
The fins that push a wide abyss
In colours that forever ream
Of red and blue and purple-ness
And further waves of tangerine.
The sapid hops of beauty fish
And all the rainbow in the sea.

Through a cacophony of colour
Let your inner thoughts dissolve;
In the spirals of dimensioned time
Allowing mind’s concepts to evolve
To see the light we’ve seeked to find
For years ‘cross life’s gaped plain;
The striving for the euphoric dream
Remains grasped, it’s just a game.
A plot, a ruse, or maybe just fate
But a chance that all may come true;
An example of challenge – and one I’ll take –
To prove my love for you.
But not a love that co-exists
With the innuendos of life today;
One that’s deeper, where minds can share
And expand whilst others decay.
A stage where instincts are never void,
Where beliefs are attuned to the time;
Not a compromise, but a gathered scope
In our mystical place, sublime.
Where sapid logic guides the stream
To river the aura’s view –
There I will be, in the sunset light,
In a dream I’ll be looking at you.

acuity soon softens, fermented by a sapid surf singing of elusive green tides and driftwood epiphanies left to litter dulce shores

each sun bleached body is fissured and crumbling, our freckled limbs akimbo across coquina terraces of fossilized froth, we trace the

speckles of sunburnt kisses between collarbones, as the scathing day's paramours, our bronzed shoulders are branded with mermaid embraces

at the calves of palm branches' sapless colloquy detailing tangy, cloven skies and the velvet undulations of acerbic white sands that tangle with infant foam

the ocean orates in guttural, white capped hymns which crescendo on shivering sand, sirens draped in cerulean blue murmur their tidal magic

and across our suntanned faces, the shadows of intumesced clouds rest, as wind carries the fragrance of droves of sea bitten fruits into salt-weary nostrils

our nomadic conversation shies and shimmers, surfing vagabond currents, the afternoon's tidal effervescence purses these escapades

in shivering boughs of sea mist, the ocean swathes shore-ridden limbs, the promised praxis of the sea as she croons from her maritime confines

and exits. I try to let the insipid out
and the sapid things in. But sometimes
I reverse the order and only take in
the insipid things. As a writer

my hands are my mouth. And what
I take in I also put out. So, I’m trying to put
into this well-oiled machine something
clear, crisp and clean.