Part One
Nascent Craving

The insular heart unsealed; pearled eyes
Breach parapets of stone— periled shield,
The sweetest ****—
A threatening wonder and irrefragable synergy,
Nervous routes of cognition  
In this nascent, amorous craving.
Locked and abased,
Dissonance lends pathos — euphoric and onerous,
Disconsolate cries curb sublimation,
The regnant bleed diffusing — fervid lust
Fondled, tactile surfaces in throbbing anticipation.

Sullen, aft a veil of laughter,
Visceral aftermath, out of
The ardent ash,
Burns a thirst;
Insuperable numbness and ache.
Efflorescent intimacy,
Table for two
Enraptured in new alliance,
Élan vital (psyche);
Urgent dialect petitions
Equivocation, jocularity blending
Provocation with indecision,
Noted lilt of descending inhibition.

Adrift, the incessant Now;
As occasion inexorably diminished;
Resonant simpatico tending,
Numinous amity;
Heard conversant, cognitive idioms—
Lassitude, time-eaten pangs of the unhinged heart,
Wounds axiomatic,
In disquieting synergy,
Nibbling, the circumference—
Misery’s permeating truth;
None immune, all trundle incongruously past,
Facing intrepid savages.

Licitly felt, reverberations of Amor
Whence the heart behaves;
Measured cadence, pulse elevating—
Treasured lover, contemplative muse;
Undulating clasp, inflated bone of absence;
Incarnation — a woman,
Beyond prosaic;
Ineffable adoration pours in certitudes of verse,
Elenita, enclothed —virtue unvarnished;
Reservoir intrinsic, poised advocate of the innocent:
The crooked lines of insolence,
Brazen culture of neglected youth.
Perceptive blue stare, sensitized tears—
Plaintively, evincing her injustice ago.

Part Two
Tendered Senses

Siren silence, eruptive blush, ampler between phrases
In dulcet tones — stirring discourse;
Foments rebellion, the strife beneath— his ****,
Out of its vast reserve,
Penetrate the narrowed ambit, vaguely announced.
Groping hands, migrating the sensual member
Stern faces grimacing— mirror in abrasion,
Under the blind surf of consent;
Burrowing ambiguity, emerging torsion,
Plunge, enlisted and content in the sea;
Subsumed in the nonverbal cue,
Persuasion’s plea,
Quelled in the post cerebral assent.

Piercing eyes parallel crystalline waters of Lake Tahoe.

An untouched portion of his awareness remains aloof,
Palpable in the subsequential quiet,
Obsequious and febrile, they sinned on sofas;
Peregrine predilections quenched and viscid—
Serenely requited, the room breathes her presence,
Limp, figures *******, mantled in adolescent torpor.

Erudition in bloom, trust undoubted,
Illuminating, satiating; tempest calm—
Under canvas
Terrain soaked and sodden,
Postliminary — rains of invalidation.
Allowance and permission
Recalibrate, salivate, shortly only—
Initiate, obliged consecration, appraising
Curvatures of the spine,
Stuns him obeisant, her femenine pulchritude,
Propinquity inciting vigor,
Emergent allure, the updriven
Tower of wood sprung from the blanket.

Suffused in ether, purring streams of remembrance
Vaginal honeyed dew, sung into
Orchids, remnants of remember;
Drenched down the cynosure of devotion;
Succulent view, diaphanous pantied bottom;
Halcyon mist, saporous wine — compliance of the will,
Freed fires wander,
Pliable rind, twin plums dripping,
Abject confession, dispatching doubt
In tendered senses,
Pivotal tree, lavender Jacaranda holds the key,
Unfurled, cindered vulnerability.

Half-denuded skin invites confessional savor
Acutely bubbled rear, fleshly furnished denim;
Sultry visit, San Ramon Valley in the fall,
Strewed limbs splendid, flowing filmy;
Imagination yields—
Bursting silk congealed
Across deft thighs, ambrosial thong draping ankles,
Grazing ascension, the curvaceous trajectory
Nose inflamed with fragrance,
Inhaling, climb of acquiescence,
The ****** weal, amid the globed fruit,
Focal intention — ploughed lance thrusting,
Absconding, the ancillary perfume of essence.

Perceiving avid validation,
Swimmingly, amid the monstrous gaze.
  
Humid skies simper dank, set swell the incense of Eros,
Surge of poetry engorged
The flame levened shaft,
Nimble ******* flounce, spill the harboring mouth;
Moist hands merging, unfettered,
Weave in supplication,
Vicinity voicing, enmeshed diversion;
Supple and spherical behind
Posterior arch, milky-skin against the lip—
Ripeness jostling their complacency;
Lapped the mooring, ridden decisively;
Recapitulating— spumed forth, bellied over hips warmth.
Abandon the dirge of self-pity
Late under ego’s trance.
  
Part Three
Present Tenses

Tempting trespass across sacred gardens,
Flowering, scandal set luminous: attachment—
Consensual, their corresponsive fear;
Protean manifestations— evocative, perpetual
Unutterable contention in a fictive resolve,
Deliberating the merits of their widely disparate tastes in coffee,
Amorously touring wine, let’s drowse through the gnarled vine.
Sundry deficiencies pale, once contrasted;
The beatific vision—
Material substance unaccompanied,
Imperceptible, tear-streamed cheeks in synch,
Ventral kiss, peak of carnal perfection,
Reminiscence— flesh violent with Love.

Fiction knew to meander the innominate rift,
A tincture of irony soften misdeeds
Immense as the sea.
Insolvent beast stippled with sapience—
Unmasked, the fabric of delusion;
Dependence smothering the disciplined heart
Resentment put up for release.

Waste of residual years
Fate’s apportion, scars bleakly observed;
Chastened by heartache, engulfing fervor
Too faint to recapture.
Vague glimpses dry—
Hypervigilant his defenses,
Veritable suspensions, embers lit linger;
Slender walls of solidity, the horizoned self,
Faith and reason in concert — stone levels of elucidation.

Fractured bones of distance, emanate a rigid salience,
Another ponderous night of absence—
Lingering, cauldron of dearth as indifference ushers,
The quotidian coil of contrition.
Tearful pallor, sequestered —ciphering time and solitude;
The unkissed mouth, his restive brow;
Suspend in the approximate span.
                      
After Lucid alliterations are spoken
Devoid of her face, his lover’s nudge—
The man nurtures his hurt.
Anxious as seldom unscarred,  
Venus’s susurrations,
In present tenses,
Kissed by her serenades of integration—
Notwithstanding metaphysic intrusion,
No chain stays unbroken,
Postponed drifts of deferment left unspoken,
Reverberations of amor.

© 2013 W. S. Warner

Random,
Is difficult to find, And perhaps even nonexistent
See a flip of a coin
Can be decided based on gravitation pull and upward force
A die can be rolled
But the face it reveals can be calculated
Stars spotted in the sky
Are all red/blue shifting in measurable distances
A website URL
Is generated with algorithm by a programmer
Your social security card
Show where you were born, your group, and serial numbered
Any "random" thought you have
Is somehow thought up by a relating idea in the brain
Unrelated subsequential events
Are made into patterns based on how unrelated they are

So, no.
I don't think it's random we met.
I think there is a fate and a destiny
There are always answers to what happens next
But whoever is deciding what does
Is doing a pretty **** good job

Peculiar faces-
Skeptical goodbyes
And the melting of a night-
calmly waiting in the back drop of your mind
The teeter totter was always an amusing ride
Sincerity and insincerity alike
It slowly becomes an equal battle between endearment and fright-
Forgiving and holding
With what steel skin you’ve painted on their bare stares
Abstract means of clothing removal
Count it-
One, two, three, four, thirty eight times
Awkwardly imperfect as perfect is
In a sense-
Each body became an atlas
But where is your compass?
Misplaced it just as you have the rest

Went north when you meant to go west
And now you’re stuck somewhere in the south
Indulging in subsequential nonsense


(c) Tiffanie Doro

There will always be that one moment in life when ask yourwelf those fateful questions, "What is my Purpose, how can I find it"?

Ramanticism reached beyond beyond,
Darkening and lightening the world,
But it wasn't a purpose that i had written down it was my feelings that i had referled.
Just my emotions Drawing in others and making a subsequential bond.
It was either happy or sad i had blindly written down,
But it was not a purpose, for this I longed.
So I was nothing but determined to search for mine,  I was lost in a realm of blank,
For a purpose deep down I needed to find.
Endless nothingness, as if alone at last, to find my purpose before my time come to pass.
So lost, and still wanderingg, even from the highest reaches, There was no purpose in sight,
I even went deep down inside myself and challenged my nightmares to a fight.
Still lost if not even deeper in the darkness of the pit,  soon approaching destination point and my burdens making me deadly sick, I will not dig my grave, and I cannot need help, it is me who must rescue myself, find my purpose and then be saved,
Not taken by any other or anyone else, if so, failed accomplishements, I will be internally graved.
  Ive fallin, to deep, to dreary, to steep, nearly succumbed to defeat.
When all seemed gone and I was forever lost, it approached me and seemed fragile, bearly to be ceased, almost nothing was there to permit. When I was lost in a search, it was there, fading and just wanting to live.
I realized it isnt me who needed to find my purpose.
It was my purpose who needed to find me to exist.

                            Without you there is no purpose.

The wind reeks of broken words
and shattered promises
my mouth is full of every mirror
I have stared into
I cannot breathe with all of the glass stuck within my lungs
I am drying out the summertime memories
where the breeze didn’t remind me of
burnt photographs
and I am stuck in the subsequential
stutter of a back alley robbery that ends up with me ****** and empty
I am a poem that nobody wishes to read
because my words remind them of obituaries
I am an empty dictionary in which
there aren’t enough side notes in
i am the blank definition
to a smile that tastes like
bad memories
I refuse to add myself to the masses of one night stands
with previous versions of myself
I am tired of sleeping in coffins
or is it just a bed without you
I can’t differentiate between the two
All I am certain of is that
if you were a broken word
I would cut my tongue on your syllables any day of the week.