"undiluted" poems
Snaking down my wrist, beside pulsing, blue-green veins
Were obnoxious scars that left their mark
As if I needed another reminder of how some wounds could never heal.
This wrist of mine weathered more harm
Than a house in the eye of a hurricane
It bore the brunt of raw, undiluted, out of control anger
And frustration that my reflection brings.
As I stare back at the mirror,
I try to decipher the meaning behind beauty
And wonder if I could ever be like her.
But as my reflection cries and I see the swollen, red-rimmed eyes
I know only that I am not attractive
Not enough for you to think of me as worthy.
The angry welts and slashes are not merely scars
But ashes of the remains of my feelings,
the aftermath third degree burns
After you were done with your self-justified critique.
After you took away my light and peace.
That day I did not lost only you
But pieces of me I thought was mine.
You burned everything I thought I knew;
In the flames of doubt and insecurity,
I lost my mind.
I lost my foothold and you let me fall down the darkest abyss
Into my own version of hell
Straight out of my worst nightmare
When I saw a glimmer of light again as a breathing corpse,
No more than a frankenstein fixed together with thread
I saw the masterpiece of red on my wrists
And I saw that I was no longer whole.
All I know now is that I am afraid
Of being left behind by my own shadow
In this darkness I know now.
Jan 19, 2014
Jan 19, 2014 at 11:00 AM UTC
From the beginning
You were running
Searching for
The unknown
The anonymous
The subconscious
The atomic particle
A molecule that would
Capture you in full
And catapult you into
The great and vast blue
Where only far and few
Have gained entry to
However, you are not
You have not
You will not
You are rotting wood
Maggots feasting upon
Vultures destroying bone
While consuming flesh
Flesh of past
Undiluted
Virtuous
Clean
Sane
Unbeknownst
To the carves
Upon thy
Self with
Name
For slavery is
The Owner of
The name
A simple
Tool
Feb 22, 2014
Feb 22, 2014 at 1:58 PM UTC
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
Sep 22, 2011
Sep 22, 2011 at 10:34 PM UTC
Desperate limbs drape themselves in the exact same shade of undiluted greengreengreen that we've seen in stagnant pools and empty hearts. A tiny verdant forest of lichens and moss to mask the barren grey of a self inflicted winter. Fingers cast out towards the sky grow thin and wretched with the desperate, exhaustive need need need to ****** the light from the sky. Forgotten are the mouldering piles of discarded stars laying around its feet. I think of that girl as I pick up a damp leaf and carefully press it between love poems and silent reveries.
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 10:37 AM UTC
at times i must be
unfiltered, undiluted, pure me
for if i let myself
restrict, edit, reform
one time too many
this death grip will never ease
for all the fear i hold
of letting the wrong thing go
is why i must let it flow
Aug 15, 2018
Aug 15, 2018 at 2:38 PM UTC
Unable to read your convoluted smile ,
I trusted you with the undiluted faith of a child.
Lightly forsaken, a new fetish of the hour,
Yielding to a physiology of morals.
Your degenerate love travels though me like influenza.
As you fall into your drunken sleep,
I’m just a weary dancing girl,
Snorting the pieces of my heart for one last high.
Regulating my hatred for you,
Ill leave it to fates spite,
As I walk out the door.
Jun 16, 2012
Jun 16, 2012 at 6:16 PM UTC
“Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God”
Unadulterated, undiluted, clean and clear--
Heart for God and God alone, no other loves come near,
Room for only one consuming passion, real, sincere,
Waiting for His coming, when your Bridegroom shall appear.
All this world’s distractions, the pursuits that once you knew
Pale beside the One who died and rose again for you.
Yes, your heart and mind are single, and your eye is too.
And one day you’ll see Him face to face, the purest View.
Apr 30, 2017
Apr 30, 2017 at 7:15 PM UTC
I've drowned before, in a literal sense of the word.
I, fancying myself adept, bored of shallow waters
dived in to the depths.
However, proving my pride quite wrong, the water
submersed me with its innate and temperate nature
to a world void of breath or zephyr.
I flailed my arms, and kicked my feet; but to the
sapphire liquid my efforts came quiet inept.
Understanding my current disposition, I left myself be
enveloped.
My lungs wailed and burned, the irony hardly lost,
and as I sank towards the muted pit of abysmal blue
I construed of Love's similar tactics.
Because now that I am drowning in the loveliness of
your undiluted singularity;
the resonance of sound, when around you, is dulled by
the euphony of your voice,
my lungs have a lack of oxygen and the tilt of the colors
of the spectrum are vibrant and mesmerizing.
I've drowned before, in a metacognitive sense of the word.
I, more experienced, don't fancy myself a great swimmer,
because in the torrents of your sea, I am but a mariner
lost in the sublime beauty of exquisite waters.
Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 4:33 PM UTC
Ah ! My Beloved
this logic pure and undiluted
does it have to cross paths ?
with my insanity
time and again…
Can it not memorize
the grammar of my imperfections?
embrace the lucidity
of my madness…
Can it not hear
the chaos howling
across my silences?
…Somewhere on the Eastern sky
Sawan lashes out all her frenzy
and I in mute agony
conclude this verse
chiseled with just
MY IMPERFECTIONS...
Dec 11, 2010
Dec 11, 2010 at 10:24 PM UTC
I’ve been writing poetry about you on a daily basis.
Shalln’t complain, it’s rare to find such undiluted inspiration—-
Crisp and fresh, aquamarine
-Never such a sight I’ve seen-
And never such a sound I’ll hear
Sweet laughing waters splashing clear—-
Reason comes to stand adjacent,
Thinking me to be complacent:
“Shouldn’t this a worry be?”
She asks, “Your source of poetry?”
“Surely you must be possessed—-
Or at the very least, obsessed …”
“Nay!” I say, and, thanking her,
Turn back quickly to the words
That burble from the fountain’s head
And thus declare my worries dead:
For ne’er should Inspiration be refused
Regardless of an unexpected Muse—-
Oct 11, 2012
Oct 11, 2012 at 9:00 PM UTC
Melancholy is the man who cannot sort the wheat from spam
and drowns in undiluted dross,
while others toss the waste away that keeps them from a fruitful day.
Fill my in tray with this harvest ,let me reap what I sow and not what others would throw at me,
and knock on wood
that what is sent is all good,
no deletions to e-mails,no begging letters or sad tales,no hawkers to sell me the things that they tell me I need,
let my line feed be clear
as I sit here and wait for the logic gate to crush me as the messages push past me,
I want to be free of those details of the plight of **** backed whales and the starving in China
or the food that's on offer in the shopping mall diner,the cruising of liners over sharp salted seas and how to say please in Kampala,Uganda.
Pander to the worst of them and let sleeping men lie,but the spam stacks on up and I don't wonder why,it just does and it will until I disengage from this wonder of the age and go back to
the abacus
where beads are all I need
no spam
no feed
no green screen to lead me on
just me.
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 4:41 AM UTC
this primal hour, I do not wish to disturb the quiet
with music or words. I just want to squeeze those
luscious buttocks in both my palms and drink
the oozing juice of lust out of your wet lips:
Oh, babe, I just want to plough your field,
your thighs up in air, and feel the softness of
your wet depths on the walls of my hardened
manhood, thirsting for your love potion. this
primal hour, I want nothing but undiluted lust
Dec 21, 2012
Dec 21, 2012 at 1:10 PM UTC
when did i last spend a good time?
a second, a minute, an hour, a day
one undiluted, unmixed, pure, and raw,
a good time, truly good, without a flaw.
was it those moments of ******** height
when sans one sense, all else was dark night
or the time spent brief in her warm embrace
seeking her moons reading map on her face
it could be the while when a gust of joy
made this heart shine like a boy
a flashing streak of event that lit up the soul
from pieces of fragments revealed the whole
getting from a girl her kiss of innocence
drench with her in first summer rains
reaching a heaven from far firmament
by a smile from the boy a dime i lent
turning that page of a now lost time
when this mind first chanced upon a rhyme
they rush like tide set me to brood
from the budding child to the aging manhood
where in the memory now thick with grime
lies hidden the passing of the last good time!
Jul 31, 2015
Jul 31, 2015 at 2:00 PM UTC
In the company of undiluted sadness
She vomits verses upon verses
Swathes emotion
In amassed bundles of metaphor
Chokes on truth
Squeezes out the blood
For the sake of creation
And
Perhaps a cure
For the feeling
Silent screaming
Traversing the precarious
Corridors of her mind
The ricochet of sound
Awakening the repressed
Opening the floodgates of
The repugnant murk
The face of her darkness
She knows not its name
Or how it found her.
Oct 24, 2014
Oct 24, 2014 at 12:31 PM UTC
I miss the cookie crumbs that fell from your lips and then dotting the wooden table.
It drove me
crazy-insane.
Thing is, it was good crazy.
The one where undiluted happiness bubbles into your chest.
Inexplicably lighting up places you thought the light switches
were
terribly
*br ok
en*.
Now,
I am
slowly and surely
losing it.
Wit by wit, memory by moment(s).
Mar 21, 2014
Mar 21, 2014 at 7:39 AM UTC
Love most have died centuries ago
She died with Juliet and Romeo
Now her bones lay dust infested
Romeo's to the left
Juliet's to the right.
Wishing they discussed,
Try to figure out how it all turned sour.
If love is dead,
Who or what are we then?
Excavators, that's who we are
Digging furiously, who cares how far
The grave of the duo love birds must be near
Find it, find love at its undiluted sphere.
Enveloped in this fantasies box
Love becomes no more than a hoax
Love is what it is
A beautiful broken bike if you please
Its too dangerous to ride
Yet no choice but the ride
So if you must, put on your safety gear.
Love does not live inside TVs
Nor magazines
She has left the internet and movies
She now lives in the simplicity of you and I.
You may have looked too hard
Yet you still can't find.
This you must figure out
You are looking in the wrong sites.
Sep 10, 2014
Sep 10, 2014 at 6:14 PM UTC
There is a very thin line
Between love and lust
Between sea and sky
Between me and you
Such a fine line
That I can see
Touch it from
Here
Enclosed in the high rise monster
(That mostly dot the sea face, all around the sea in Mumbai)
reaching out to be.
From here
-Where silence is whispering to the sea
Waves percolating through my window
Where darkness of my ****** thoughts
Seep in through the night's gateway
A window with three glass frames
Barred, framed and up-curtained
Unveiled and naked.
From here I see it all bared
I can actually reach out
And separate them
The love and the lust
The entangled Sea with the sky
Create a divide between them
With my desire
To BE
Some times I just want to BE
Some times Sea in all its thrashing about
With waves and tsunami's just want to BE too
Some times the sky
With its dark cloud and their silver linings
Just wanna BE, you see?
Some times all of us want to
Reach out
Separate love from lust
And desire just to BE
Just to BE in love
Pure, undiluted, undefined, unnamed
Unbinding, untagged
Just Love,
LOVE,
I Love to BE
Sep 9, 2010
Sep 9, 2010 at 6:08 AM UTC
there she is: a glimpse of purple in prehistory
highlighted on the bluffs like an exhibit of magnetism.
a zooming highway energizes the distant panorama
making the evening surge like a crowning infant against her back.
it fills the canvas sails of her muscles in gusts of bravado, daring her
propelling the stiff mechanisms of her legs and arms
9000 stars shatter her cheek bones
as the sun severs its main vein making her
just another small boat to crash on an undiluted shoreline
Feb 22, 2010
Feb 22, 2010 at 11:31 AM UTC
Like they say "AT THE TOUCH OF LOVE ONE BECOMES A POET "
Mine is not an exception to it fact
Just the mere thought of you ignite my passion for writing
Like the rays of sunlight that light up everything inside of me
I must be honest am not that of a good love poet
But every word I write reflect to what I feel inside of me
I heard love is blind so I write this poem in braille
I may not be able to pen down all what I really feel right now
Cos true love cut so deep and it expression is endless
I always believe real love is pure kind and imperfect
you made it right just the way God intended it to be
Meeting you made me realize all the true hidden nature of love
It realistic taste of pure romance and indescribable emotions
Emotions so deep that not even time itself can explain
I maybe carried away by that same emotion right now
Cos every cell in me breath and sense of you
In fact each time I think of you and I together
I completely lose all my conscious state and awareness of what surround me
I see your face always in a reflection of true and divine beauty
A beauty not only molded with sand but with the touch of angelic brilliance
I see the reflection of God most beautiful angel in your eyes
Each time u brighten my world with your amazing smile
I know this sounds strange but every now and then I pray
that God somehow turns you back into one of my ribs
Just so that I would never have to spend an entire day without you
Feeling you so close to me than I've ever have
My greatest regret is not being able to see you every minute of the day
But I always gain courage not only because I feel your presence always
But that your absence helps to build and modify me
Into that man that won't be driven craze by your presence
I can swear that each time our lips touch in the realm of dream
I taste a hundred years of my life in an undiluted sugary taste of unending happiness
The thought of loving you alone
Takes me through the corridors of heaven
You in my life brings together peace and divine love in a perfect mixture
Together with happiness and unmerited grace
I can go right on and on to write how I feel
But in real sense not even the letters or words can truly express how I feel
Love is the most precious gift ever given to mankind
I feel pleased and blessed to have that gift in the person of you
Not even the whole money in the world can value your love
My priceless jewel of inestimable value
Will give the whole of me for you
Including my money joy and life
Love you with every beat that keeps me alive
Jan 2, 2015
Jan 2, 2015 at 11:48 AM UTC
The ancient ones are usually great
With knowledge supreme, raw & undiluted
See how our mistakes lead to things to regret
Where some occurrences can simply leave us better educated
Top-down design like we were made
From the mind down the astral through to the body
That could give clues to when good things fade
I should stop here before i risk explaining poverty poorly
Poverty, inferiority and negativity are a condemning mindstate,
Its poor thinking that corrodes your spirit and kills vitality.
Mind navigates, spirit elevates, body lavitates when you find faith
knowledge and selfbelief shifts I to a dimension of real spirituality.
I is in the potentiality field of spiritual laws,
It helps me to a vibration of thinking anew.
A better living way for all with physical flaws,
Righteousness can be a lifeguard sinking a few.
It’s all in the mind and so is the ALL
Lets call it God for the understanding of all
Or the universe so more could fall
Or any other name that helps you walk tall
Time tells no lie as it is His own element
And in it the state of mind will 1 day be one
With that which walked the path long ago & gave life up as sacrament
On that day, we shall have come close to having the battle won
January 18, 2011 at 1:35pm
Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 11:49 AM UTC
Goodness, how many are there in my very heart & soul?
Even I am not entirely sure myself.
What makes me gasp with undiluted surprise and widened eyes is that
you,
sweet-heart,
manage to find each and every single one of them.
You say a shy 'Hello' and nudge the not-so-good softly.
You see me bare & human.
Mar 28, 2014
Mar 28, 2014 at 8:43 AM UTC
Tomorrow is a shattered mirror,
blinking at me, showing the sun's teeth,
as though fending off starving stray cats.
There was no sun today,
I worked while it slept below
its sheets made of the empty fields
that lie east of my home.
Dereliction, undiluted, joins ranks with the
birds who have forgotten winter is coming.
Blotches of paint on stormcloud canvas,
like Jackson ******* began painting the October sky
and gave up after three or four flails of his
glorified, dripping brush.
Although there is a reflection here,
it is a dream now. The details have been
misplaced, and we can only recall major
landmarks and plot twists.
The surface, however, looks the same
as it always has,
and will go on doing so,
through the death of tomorrow, and her child.
Oct 14, 2012
Oct 14, 2012 at 1:22 AM UTC
We are two wolves
Tearing at each other’s flesh
Biting in with savage need
Pushing and pulling for dominance.
We are two wolves
Working off of undiluted instincts
Of euphoric animalism.
We rip away our human pelts
And reveal our battle worn skins
Blemished with past wars and historic victories.
We are two wolves
Growling with pleasure and an insatiable appetite.
Digging our incisors into each other’s flesh
And grazing our claws down one another’s backs.
We score each other’s bodies
With nips, kisses, and tongue
Demanding one to admit the others rule.
To surrender and go docile.
But we are two wolves
Fighting each other
Each step of the way
With unadulterated ravishment.
-ALC April 4, 2019
Apr 5, 2019
Apr 5, 2019 at 12:43 AM UTC
There is sand in my pockets
I am waiting on it to turn to gold
While the holes in my shoes
Refuse to tred carefully
On the contents of my unconsciousness
The constallated images of my mind
Giving them tangible form
Of opulent manifestation
Black rubies of forbidden thought
Who give birth to new emotions
Where galactic magicians sing
Incantatery truisms of other realities
Where banality is evaded with sharp realistic taste
That breeds on impulse of eternal heaviness
Of emotional anguish which seethe and bubble
Burst blisters of my charged inner self
My castle, my cell, my coffin, my grave
In ******** detonation of undiluted words
Concentrated, full, a blue fire of energized thrusts
Sustaining uninterrupted creation of imagery
There is sand in my pockets
I am waiting on it to turn to gold
I discard my shoes but retain their holes
Oct 25, 2012
Oct 25, 2012 at 2:53 PM UTC
Six years and I still shudder
I would close my eyes for a minute and see it
I remember the metallic taste of the silver ware
The agonizing muddying look of the concoction
As it swirled around in the poorly washed cup
I really doubt I would have minded much
You see, the water was too much
The cheap chocolate flavored powder too small
It made me think of Oliver Twist
Of the grave injustice on mortal men
I still have nightmares about the kettle
The way she would shake it with a vengeance
And turn it carelessly into the cups
The waiter serves me my coffee and I almost scream
I can see her trying to get all cups to be even
I suppose all of my nagging would be void
If we didn’t get to see the undiluted contents at the base
The way the black residue stared back at me; daring me
No matter how many times I tried to convince myself,
I believe that chocolate should not leave residues
I stare at the cup in front of me
It has gone cold whilst I reminisced.
It is all brown and smug
I wonder if this is how cold coffee looks
I call the waiter concerning the bill
My brain is messing with me.
I swear the chocolate drink winked at me.
Oct 1, 2016
Oct 1, 2016 at 2:59 AM UTC