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

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

A thousand god-eating plates in a summer wind
Listen, china-white, to the audible inaudible that flanks
The paint-chip, earth-red bridges. Susurrations weave
Through grass with spider fingers; following curves in seashells
As a voluble electric screen who Speaks as dew and taste.
Water is depth beyond what can be acquainted with memory
Or fancy. Watches turn delicate, May-lace and wedding night
Music: Vertical, Veiled, Very. Dust in the stream lisps
Headily to shore, rests by a forgotten child’s shoe,
Bronzes it like mother’s finger and burns like daybreak.

The intricacies
Of my mind percolated
When you said my name.

I turned and embraced
But your eyes did not return.
A tad sensitive.

I spoke as I wished.
You produced dopamine,
For another.

Revolution reigns.
Only my mind's susurrations
Sees the love you suggest.

I hope not foolish
Ideas of contemplation
Prevent your heart idea.

Cryptic dreams awaken the mind
Telling more than I want to know
Hinting at emotions undefined
The glint of rough gems to be mined

Possible rapture threatens contentment
Disturbing the balance and the flow
Turbulence enters the calm of the present
Subconscious susurrations could prove prescient

The painstakingly built façade stays intact
But the lingering dream won’t go
No use denying its deep impact
As it cajoles me to think and act

still swollen:
      moon in eye
    lips murdered red
      with the crimson of
    maddeningly furious bites
       the crunch of bone
    turning in bed - air and moment
     stopped and in between
       the hounds spread
    darkening rumors,
        dropping once again are
   eyelids from too much
           heaviness of unuttered
     words, unperformed verbs
        seething in between teeth,
   cheek pressed onto crumpled
     ******* from groping in
the dark knowing only its
       frail rescue

    these tiny fingers still
   ache from touching anthropomorphic fires,
        the ears still swollen
  from distinct susurrations like
      o's and h's and their
     sweet campaigns
   my heart's well engorged
     with a whelm of promises

       in the morning there
      will be i and you,
    our love still throbbing
     in the loom of it,
   as we go on leaving -

Intent is always blotted
by leaking speech:

words stray from their purpose
like star-bellied clouds

that stumble and fall
into a coffee cup,

burning with morning:
a wet mirror face.

The gutters murmur
with yellow leaf heads,

a branch escapes
from the wood (unwillingly?)

& the morning vaults
over the white creek.

I'm here, I'm here,
the rain is saying -

it stalks me home
after the concert.

The dews of heaven
She downs like the morning
A mellifluous creature, surfed ashore
Myrtle amid thorns; Quiescent
Heart of a royal; highness
Resplendent in garment of sapphire; radiant
The lady gouldian finch
Melodies inspires ataraxia
Beautific as wysteria
It’s her loving heart beaming smiles
Stretches as thousand miles
Incandescent as candle on a hill
Beacon of hope
Oh hear
The susurrations of a Gold-Mantled Rosella .

Tj. kwame

You think you’re a thunder clap,
But I know
You’re a solar storm
Trapped inside a marble.
I want you
To want me
As much as I want you.
Your body is made of Earth.
Rainwater eyes,
Caraway hair,
Birch skin.

I’d listen to you speak
For hours
Just so we could spend hours
Together.
You speak to stars in susurrations
That roll of your tongue -
I hold them in my palms
And aid their ascension.
Your heart is a hearth
Trying to warm a forest
Covered in snow -
I would help you spread.

People laugh at you
Because you’re a tad askew;
I laugh with you
Because you’re aligned perfectly.
I think I love you sometimes
And I’m scared
Because the sun has no need
To love the moon.

I shut my eyes to see the universe
In Technicolor,
Only to desaturate it all with open lids –
Blinking is such a tease.

My head turns,
My face trailing behind,
As time ticks slowly past my still silhouette,
Which blends into the dripping, grey sky
As another shade of charcoal –
Blurry and smudged around the edges
Until I am limitless.  

My skull refracts a rainbow,
Tipped topside down
By my pale, dark eyes
All anyone else sees are the shadows
Leftover by heavy wind.  
I don’t live where I should.  

My hyacinth heart grows in bone dust,
Having my skin shift between violet and blue,
A mottled peach –
How silly everyone is
With their dull minds
Forcing their bright eyes
To see in only lines.  

I don’t mind being lost
In fields of sprouting susurrations –
An eyelash falling,
A star dying,
An egg hatching, multiplying,
A spider crawling in an open mouth –
I belong somewhere,
Even if it’s never heard.

I tried inviting someone once,
To borrow my sight.  
They threw up
And told me I was blind.

lost fragrances of easy summer mornings
when all she knew was the dirt
between her toes
and scattered throughout her
golden hair.

lost melodies of lazy summer days
when all she knew was the water
of river susurrations
and warmest shortlived rains
caressingly falling.

lost bites of ripe summer evenings
when all she knew was the sweetness
of rose-red lips
and shared apricots with she
of auburn hair.

lost glances of torrid summer nights
when all she knew was the lust
of her youth
and the wine shared between
first loves.

lost times of summer's end
when all she knew was gone.

is it too much of an onomatopoeic dissonance that this is synonymous to
   regret dubbed as slouched nirvana. Across the bonfire, there’s volition
   as glare, light as judgment. Why they call her
Luningning, I know not.
      Take excess for jaunts and flesh, and pay no heed to illusions. The mirage
  on the wall is but fire-dance on the bitten lip of true company.
                    heady static pierces pinecone. Soon the moon will sink like **** to ****. Or felled star as tripled glaze of salted lip. Or the ****** of the butterfly.
     Are we here to metamorphose these tiny susurrations into a commune?
                     Dank and stale as ****-laced pavement, the whole world now
    spires in uneven strobes. The last song on the karaoke as memory. The knead
      of temperamental air on the scalp. Take pork rind for bread, intemperance
    as tribute. The night dons its silken robe and shows her pair: two moony eyes
               piercing the noise.

Who but afternoon

Susurrations of heat speak?

Where but earth

Stars feed

(As electrons sway

And pour through walls;

Spin gold to sugar,

Greenly tasted

By the lips of mammalian tongues

Eating fat

With gardens and stolen glucose) ?

Incapable of creation -

Who, but we,

Devour?

"when you cannot sleep at night,
you are in someone else's dream"

how many hours shall descend
bringing in a cavalcade
of dim twilight's press
  on the soft, aqueous levitation of body?
is this liminality's gradual
hand nailing me
into flesh and stirring
me out of this oceanic crawl
when all you have ever
done was sleep me away
and tell me
of these
susurrations of soul?

i have no answer to
this solitary condition -
say, taking you by the hand
and somnambule in cosmic field
of no thought's ethereal working,
or as in playthings are freely
laughing behind whose hair
flails without a face, i wonder
which beauty holds true,
my wide wakefulness,
like the only key pursuant
to its inimitable hole.

i am infinite in someone's
thinking, who dare not
say something,
who daunts back to breathless
consoles, and springs back
dizzy with a gyro of questions,
  i am all hunted answers but
  where
  is the votive voice
  that searches me?

your immensely spread parasol:
it is your downpour consoling
these tumultuous iterations.

the mordant edge of your
susurrations:
it is your word painting my silence.

i have watched your slow fires
raze the inundation.
you have done it well
without trouble
without peril.

i have witnessed your
somnambular sun
mutilate with its precise dagger,
the stubborn bud of
contained splendor.
you have done it well
without blunder
without complication.

i have seen the conception
of your darknesses
and i took them as my own;
its sovereign over my
fragilities,
its tyranny over my
small territories,
its amplitude over the
softness of my voice.
i have done it well.
even with dire postulations.
even if i am
cast into a lulled out perdition.
it is like
there exists between us,
a tryst,
and the lions there lay,
roaring.

Choose your own adventure
Make your own imprint
To some I am a warning
To others I’m a hint

I am an innuendo
An oblique shaded tint
I’m exactly the kind of thing
That makes you bite your lip

I am constant happening
Susurrations in the breeze
Prodding notions raw emotions
To see what you believe

I am chance. Care to take one?
Do you like the odds?
I’m a clue. Care to buy one?
To pull back my facade

I’m a coin. Care to flip me?
Is it heads or is it tails?
I am choice. Care to make one?
Which of these two trails?

A wink, a tinge, felt on the fringe
Like cobwebs in the woods
I’m an omen still unchosen
Am I bad or am I good?

you
you dared tell a lie at
the very end
of each and every verse
that snapped out
of that flaming mouth
of yours.

I felt the guilt
of not quenching
your eternal thirst.

spinner of magmatic threads,
supine in your cocoon of lies.
weaver,
deceiver,
you told yourself the same lies
that entangle me in the susurrations
of your feminine death rattle.

I felt the weight
of not quenching
your ever burning thirst.

weaver,
deceiver.
remembered silken fingers
crisscrossing the empty
spaces between my heavy
heartbeats.

I felt the vibration
of failing to spot
that beautiful web you've spun.

believer,
deceiver,
weaver of all the lies
I needed to hear.

tell me,
are you content with being
all alone in your widow's web?

whenever the silences
fall on our supple bodies,
it is as if we are strangers.

now that i am coming home to you,
the memories make the evenings
longer, stretching them to their
capacities.

when we are lulled out
in the surge of the next moment,
our eyes pull us back to
each other's arms as we struggle
to make collision. whenever a bendable luminary lifts to light your face in utter calmness, many stories ache to be told and now, once more,

i hurry home to the warmth
of your hearth,
tender with the conflagrations
of my heart's tillage
and all the aggregations and their accompanying pains,

i have voluminous stories to
still in your ears. these intimate susurrations.

will you listen?

Bells chime.
The world is a pale imposter of itself,
gray in the moonlight,
but not indifferent.
Coy perhaps, complicit.
In league with me, perhaps.

The paper birch trees shuffle aside,
in line like ghostly sentinels,
and the briars curl back in black swarthy masses
to clear a path,
mumbling a song in their old forgotten language,
each leaning toward me, toward my house,
pointing the way.
A faint glimmer, light ahead,
yes, the warm glow of firelight
beneath the moss and stone of the highland hills.

Distant laughter, the *****! of glasses and
bell chimes.
The susurrations of the nighttime grasses
whisper in time with the tunes of my fiddlers;
they know the songs of my blood, my bones.

Come to my house in the hills – yes, you must come!
We will dance as the swallows do,
as the daisies do when the winds blow,
and watch the walls and faces
blur into one another as we spin round and round,
swapping faces, swapping bodies.
The other guests wear garments of wanderlust and daring,
and their dance is one of flame and dust.

Come!
Dance within my house,
between walls of polished ivory
and a ceiling studded with pearls and diamonds
and the teeth of extinct animals.

Come!
We are free here:
free to forget,
free to deny.
Free, at last, to revel in the revelry
and be as unwise as it pleases us to be.
Here is a place where wisdom
is useless and none
will accuse you of sensible conduct.

And after,
when the sunlight tosses me back into the ocean
and hauls you out
dream of me.

I see clouds in the sky, made of rope, knotted Stark...
No light through this boundless horizon, only glowing Dark...
Reached the point with no more milestones to Postpone...
In the end, I'll be the forgotten bones under dusty Tombstone...

I carry the knapsack of my empty actions thru this way of Perdition...
As I look Behind All in my Sight is My failed Ambition...
Footprints tells wrong steps, breaks and failures I made...
There won't be another chance, and no catharsis can make Change...

soundless Screams through day, void susurrations in the Dark...
and this Grotesque expression is my last standing Mark...
each wrinkles on my face tells a story of Pain...
I'm still standing here and slowly going to Fade...

The everlasting taste of dirt, from hitting the ground...
In this cataclysm of Misery I will be Drowned...
Complicated with contradictions, cant be fit into any Ism...
Let my soul through crystal, outcome will be reverse working Prism...

Traveled in this labyrinthine road and every moment I have Waste...
Farewell to You Ephemera World, I farewell with Distaste...
Soon or late I will be forgotten, there's no further pass in this Impasse...
and when they recall memories of me, with only a Sigh, they'll Pass...

Again we sit. And listen to the soft susurrations of spirit. The abnegations of our decisions. These ablutions are always watered down. And we swim in our safety nets till we are plunged into the darkness. The unsuspecting silence is a moment that we invited. I am delighted to let go of my mind. I find nothing worth holding onto. It slips out like a poem. I birth universes from nothing, so cuddle me in your warm arms. Love is frightening. So we shake our shadows and rustle the tree tops. Long live our strategies. Don't you dare try to follow me. Let's choose not to believe in gravity. For the way up is less scary. I see your fingers tracing shadows on the wall. I wish they’d linger on my body. I’d love to tell you that I didn’t care but you'd immediately know that nothing could be further from the truth.

Can’t be described
But here goes my best try
It’s ineffable gods
It’s the blue in the sky
It’s the human conditioned
To think it at all
It’s the ocean’s enormity
Bask in the thrall
Of its forces of nature,
Its danger,
Its source
It’s emotion,
It’s motion,
It’s timeless of course
It’s the universe
Planting its seeds
As it breeds
As it breathes its life into
The bodies it feeds
It’s a memory’s
Melody,
Pleasure and pain
It’s microbial jungles
And cells in the brain
It’s the energy jolt’s
Inspirational spark
It’s the howling wolf moon’s
Looming gloom in the dark
It is solace’s
Salience,
Silence’s synthesis
Synapses syncing with
External stimulus
Susurrations
Of the wistfulness winds
It’s the smiling sunshine
On the earth as it spins
And continues presenting us
Plentiful gifts
So partake
And reciprocate
Its blissfulness

.                   Tongue Tide


       They can, with their great

         engineering minds, dam

            rivers, silence babling

       brooks, muzzle often mute,

      muttering streams and gag

         the burbling waterfalls.


      They can channel canals,

    leach the lapping language

               from our  lakes,

       even bribe the rainbows.

But main street media can never

  redact susurrations of the sea.



For Julian Assange.

They lay
In neat little rows
All connected
Veins exposed
Like choirs
In an emerald green
As they began
To sing, and dance
Shimmering, and rustling
Guided by the breeze
Susurrations
Psithurisms
Create the music
Of the emeralds
Gently caressing each other
Briefly
Like a stolen kiss
As they sing
Swish, swish
The wind dies down
The emeralds, fall still
Now silent
Amongst the branches
And aching limbs

by Jemia