Starlings in an oak
Shreiking loudly their warning
The fox is hunting
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Still
If only time were still!-
With a patience that does kill
sounding of a tick-tock;
or an alarm bell
from the hands of a clock
Moving quickly through moments;
Can't freeze the tick-tock
Of hours passing by
From old Father Time
Fueling a mortal's shock!
Reality weighs heavy
Upon our thoughts
tick-tock tick-tock
How quickly life flies by
Time does not stand still
Waits for no one
Finds a clever thrill
In an unexpected mortal ending
tick-tock tick-tock
reminding us only once
Cherish the time given to you
by that infinite clock.
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
With a patience that does kill
sounding of a tick-tock;
or an alarm bell
from the hands of a clock
Moving quickly through moments;
Can't freeze the tick-tock
Of hours passing by
From old Father Time
Fueling a mortal's shock!
Reality weighs heavy
Upon our thoughts
tick-tock tick-tock
How quickly life flies by
Time does not stand still
Waits for no one
Finds a clever thrill
In an unexpected mortal ending
tick-tock tick-tock
reminding us only once
Cherish the time given to you
by that infinite clock.
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
The End is the End
Who will care about squirrels climbing maple boughs,
And ants marching along green grass blades,
Or those dolphins breaching not far from the shores?
Man defaces nature with chainsaws and plows,
Where trees once stood now buildings with great colonnades,
Green prairies now strip malls and department stores.
Man versus Nature in an endless feud
Both a power struggle and a strange mystery;
Their future demise still afar,
Yet when this war will conclude,
The end of their future is the end of their history
And their destruction guarantees a final au revoir.
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
And ants marching along green grass blades,
Or those dolphins breaching not far from the shores?
Man defaces nature with chainsaws and plows,
Where trees once stood now buildings with great colonnades,
Green prairies now strip malls and department stores.
Man versus Nature in an endless feud
Both a power struggle and a strange mystery;
Their future demise still afar,
Yet when this war will conclude,
The end of their future is the end of their history
And their destruction guarantees a final au revoir.
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Nature Dream
I dream of wild fields of red clover;
Those beautiful serene places outside,
I dream of living free like a rover,
And not stuck behind some desk inside.
I dream of enjoying nature’s raw beauty
And not suffering workdays stressing
Over some rigorous mundane duty,
So tiresome and depressing.
Oh, to dream of a flowering prairie;
Or of getting lost in a wooded place,
I’ll take time to admire an osprey’s aerie,
And feel a tree trunk in my embrace.
The wind on my face like a touch of heaven,
See raindrops on a pond’s surface stir rings,
And envy that flying flock of eleven,
For they know freedom on the tips of their wings.
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Those beautiful serene places outside,
I dream of living free like a rover,
And not stuck behind some desk inside.
I dream of enjoying nature’s raw beauty
And not suffering workdays stressing
Over some rigorous mundane duty,
So tiresome and depressing.
Oh, to dream of a flowering prairie;
Or of getting lost in a wooded place,
I’ll take time to admire an osprey’s aerie,
And feel a tree trunk in my embrace.
The wind on my face like a touch of heaven,
See raindrops on a pond’s surface stir rings,
And envy that flying flock of eleven,
For they know freedom on the tips of their wings.
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Sweet Song Sung
Heartbeats gathered and tied up in soft lace
Beat amongst a cut-out heart paper strand;
Which swings gently in tree limbs with such grace,
Sings a soft love song with the wind across the land,
Two lovers walk the woods in silent solitude,
The love they share is bright and unbound
And their happiness sets the mood,
For the undying romance they have found;
Hand in hand they sore high above
Just like two joyous springtime birds:
So content with their new found love,
That I love yous are their most cherished words.
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Beat amongst a cut-out heart paper strand;
Which swings gently in tree limbs with such grace,
Sings a soft love song with the wind across the land,
Two lovers walk the woods in silent solitude,
The love they share is bright and unbound
And their happiness sets the mood,
For the undying romance they have found;
Hand in hand they sore high above
Just like two joyous springtime birds:
So content with their new found love,
That I love yous are their most cherished words.
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Sunday, September 5, 2010
That Face
That face
nearly always the same with only a few slight differences
like symbols-
numbers
or
roman numerals.
That face
is a constant in our lives has hands as lips though not symmetical
one side-
shorter
than
the other.
That face
wears sidways smiles,
sometimes pursed lips straight,
or frowns oddly crooked.
That face,
it registers our moments like butterfly wings
fluttering upon a dayfly's heartbeat.
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
nearly always the same with only a few slight differences
like symbols-
numbers
or
roman numerals.
That face
is a constant in our lives has hands as lips though not symmetical
one side-
shorter
than
the other.
That face
wears sidways smiles,
sometimes pursed lips straight,
or frowns oddly crooked.
That face,
it registers our moments like butterfly wings
fluttering upon a dayfly's heartbeat.
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
In The Offing
Horizon
Far away
Moving, unmoving, undulating
Anguishing thoughts on edge
Fringe
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Far away
Moving, unmoving, undulating
Anguishing thoughts on edge
Fringe
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Hours That Fly
Constant sounding ticks
Calculating sums of time
Hours that fly by
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Calculating sums of time
Hours that fly by
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Nature's Tears
Nature sheds her tears
because of the changing years
and her many fears
© 2010 L.Warren
because of the changing years
and her many fears
© 2010 L.Warren
Theomastix
Material lust
Greed, gain, power hungry thirst,
All come with a price
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Greed, gain, power hungry thirst,
All come with a price
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Tristisonous
Morning paper news
daily depictions of gloom
more hate, war, and crime
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
daily depictions of gloom
more hate, war, and crime
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Autumn's Soft Song
Birch tree in the breeze
Your leaves dance downward in tune
with Autumn’s soft song
Copyright ©2010 L.Warren
Your leaves dance downward in tune
with Autumn’s soft song
Copyright ©2010 L.Warren
Like Religion
Politicians lie
twisted tongues deceiving us-
trusting believers
Copyrighted ©2010 L.Warren
twisted tongues deceiving us-
trusting believers
Copyrighted ©2010 L.Warren
Acataleptic Certainty
Death
Mortal time
Drifting into eternity
Aeviternal soul without skin
Hereafter
Copyright ©2010 L.Warren
Mortal time
Drifting into eternity
Aeviternal soul without skin
Hereafter
Copyright ©2010 L.Warren
Square Peg Round Hole
Square peg…round hole
I don't fit
bend the piece
make it fit…for awhile
bend the piece
until it breaks
damn…it broke
I am broken
Emotions torment
tears fall
bewail the silence
my thoughts
scattered across pages
acquiring a measure
of immortality
remembered…like ink floating
forever on an atonal manuscript
emotion is
a picture worth
a thousand words
emotion is
a word worth
a thousand pictures
Which has more value?
azure is a pretty word
it colors emotions so well
I am writing pictures
and painting words
but…
I don't want my ink to fade
or my paint to crack
I don't want
my words…my pictures
to grow dim
obscured by time
I want to fit in
square peg…round hole
I fear I will never fit in
In a blink…I see
myself grappling with the hem of time
as it hurries by-stops to wait…for none
How do you capture still moments
that move so quickly?
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
I don't fit
bend the piece
make it fit…for awhile
bend the piece
until it breaks
damn…it broke
I am broken
Emotions torment
tears fall
bewail the silence
my thoughts
scattered across pages
acquiring a measure
of immortality
remembered…like ink floating
forever on an atonal manuscript
emotion is
a picture worth
a thousand words
emotion is
a word worth
a thousand pictures
Which has more value?
azure is a pretty word
it colors emotions so well
I am writing pictures
and painting words
but…
I don't want my ink to fade
or my paint to crack
I don't want
my words…my pictures
to grow dim
obscured by time
I want to fit in
square peg…round hole
I fear I will never fit in
In a blink…I see
myself grappling with the hem of time
as it hurries by-stops to wait…for none
How do you capture still moments
that move so quickly?
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Springtime
my heart in springtime is
an environment of extremes
cold thoughts interlaced
with desperate hopelessness
long stretches of aridity punctuated
by unyielding bursts of punishing emotions
continually teased by rose thorn stems
crowned with a multitude of blooms
each composed of petals
promising to erupt
into beautiful flowers
of specific colors
each baring symbolic meanings
none of which ever pertain to me
except for colors like indigo or other
shades of blue- I think
melancholy is beautiful
that feeling of being stuck
in staccato alterations of awareness
where oblivion culminates within the final
few heartbeats of the chances
that you have left until
the seasons change again
always bringing about the
constant certainty of surprise
leaving you hanging on for dear life
for one more springtime
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
an environment of extremes
cold thoughts interlaced
with desperate hopelessness
long stretches of aridity punctuated
by unyielding bursts of punishing emotions
continually teased by rose thorn stems
crowned with a multitude of blooms
each composed of petals
promising to erupt
into beautiful flowers
of specific colors
each baring symbolic meanings
none of which ever pertain to me
except for colors like indigo or other
shades of blue- I think
melancholy is beautiful
that feeling of being stuck
in staccato alterations of awareness
where oblivion culminates within the final
few heartbeats of the chances
that you have left until
the seasons change again
always bringing about the
constant certainty of surprise
leaving you hanging on for dear life
for one more springtime
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Souls Andogynous
Zeus feared
that great creature
with
four arms
four legs
and
two faces
upon a single head
Zeus humbled its
pride
in an act
of
condemnation
split it
in two
crating both
male and female
dimished in strength
but
increased in
numbers
humankind
forever
fated to search
for
the match
the mate
the other half
sometimes
found in one life
sometimes not
until the next
or the next
or the next
how many
times
overshall we live
to
find our
perfect end?
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
that great creature
with
four arms
four legs
and
two faces
upon a single head
Zeus humbled its
pride
in an act
of
condemnation
split it
in two
crating both
male and female
dimished in strength
but
increased in
numbers
humankind
forever
fated to search
for
the match
the mate
the other half
sometimes
found in one life
sometimes not
until the next
or the next
or the next
how many
times
overshall we live
to
find our
perfect end?
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Slack-Petal
first light
still dew on
pink-washed
cloudy blossoms
forced
as they are
against the sun
on thin,
over-supple stems
grow pale
and
slack-petalled
echoing
simple and bare-
quiet
beautifully
tumbling
d
o
w
n
h
i
l
l
against time
towards
their cold winter's rest
Copyright ©2010 L.Warren
still dew on
pink-washed
cloudy blossoms
forced
as they are
against the sun
on thin,
over-supple stems
grow pale
and
slack-petalled
echoing
simple and bare-
quiet
beautifully
tumbling
d
o
w
n
h
i
l
l
against time
towards
their cold winter's rest
Copyright ©2010 L.Warren
Rock and Water
all in time,
held suspended
in sweet motion
like the rise and fall of tides
two souls calling out
reaching for each other
inner echoes beckoning
from deep depths
like seashells held
close to listening ears
want and desire
patience and love;
everything and nothing
not making a sound
making a sound
stone thrown
skipped across
rhythmic tidal face
like gentle kisses
tasting liquid flesh
stone comes to sink
at last swallowed
by deeper water
circles of response
deep dwelling rings
felt everywhere
surface penetration
two souls touch
rock and water
lost in sinkable depths
light and firm
exact
once in
in forever
hard and soft
beneath water covers
heart found beating
in the breast of another
tastes of sea salt,
like sweat and tears
waves like circles
and exhausted breath
on warm flesh
water dissolving stone
like sugar and
cosmic release…
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
held suspended
in sweet motion
like the rise and fall of tides
two souls calling out
reaching for each other
inner echoes beckoning
from deep depths
like seashells held
close to listening ears
want and desire
patience and love;
everything and nothing
not making a sound
making a sound
stone thrown
skipped across
rhythmic tidal face
like gentle kisses
tasting liquid flesh
stone comes to sink
at last swallowed
by deeper water
circles of response
deep dwelling rings
felt everywhere
surface penetration
two souls touch
rock and water
lost in sinkable depths
light and firm
exact
once in
in forever
hard and soft
beneath water covers
heart found beating
in the breast of another
tastes of sea salt,
like sweat and tears
waves like circles
and exhausted breath
on warm flesh
water dissolving stone
like sugar and
cosmic release…
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Reflections
One window locked
on the inside: promising
to keep the world out
she is struggling back-to-life.
In the mirror’s reflected image-
her face is a perfect blank,
her eyes unfocused into mine,
mine into hers, generating
a motion sickness-of sorts
so much for trying-to fool myself.
Mirrored similarities and
stories tell of a sad girl-she
a familiar stranger
I’ve known all my life.
Yeats described her well
and her tormenting hell;
melancholy is a pretty name.
She is beautiful: I should love her.
My hands: clumsy
like oversized garden gloves
on narrow wrists
trace a downward smile
upon her lips-against
her cold mirrored flesh.
What a beautiful girl
fully dressed: made up-makeup,
beautiful disaster in raw flesh
with no clothes on: scarred.
I am her and she is me
our thoughts are but the same
our shared soul: perfect
under our tattered clothes-
clothes like skin: so much underneath
Reflections cannot capture this.
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
on the inside: promising
to keep the world out
she is struggling back-to-life.
In the mirror’s reflected image-
her face is a perfect blank,
her eyes unfocused into mine,
mine into hers, generating
a motion sickness-of sorts
so much for trying-to fool myself.
Mirrored similarities and
stories tell of a sad girl-she
a familiar stranger
I’ve known all my life.
Yeats described her well
and her tormenting hell;
melancholy is a pretty name.
She is beautiful: I should love her.
My hands: clumsy
like oversized garden gloves
on narrow wrists
trace a downward smile
upon her lips-against
her cold mirrored flesh.
What a beautiful girl
fully dressed: made up-makeup,
beautiful disaster in raw flesh
with no clothes on: scarred.
I am her and she is me
our thoughts are but the same
our shared soul: perfect
under our tattered clothes-
clothes like skin: so much underneath
Reflections cannot capture this.
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Real Love is Truth
Real love is truth
and truth is lost to slippery concepts
saturated in shades of grey
that bleed crimson red
disguised as the lust
that speaks empty words
used to gain instant pleasures
void of emotion
like a black hole
collapsed inside itself
an endless abyss
of darkness and no hope
a secret adroit
in search of any or all to consume
devouring the truth
that is love
revealing the hopelessness
of a material world
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
and truth is lost to slippery concepts
saturated in shades of grey
that bleed crimson red
disguised as the lust
that speaks empty words
used to gain instant pleasures
void of emotion
like a black hole
collapsed inside itself
an endless abyss
of darkness and no hope
a secret adroit
in search of any or all to consume
devouring the truth
that is love
revealing the hopelessness
of a material world
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Quick Fixes
Seven days straight-black coffee,
his fuel to survive what
he must endure-his loneliness.
Nicotine marrow tickles his tongue,
addiction inhaled deeply
from rolled paper bones
a quick fix in lit flame
keeps him feeling okay.
His fingers find the
cold steel strings
of his guitar, he
plays a sad chord, or
two
three
or four.
The beautiful noise,
drowning his pain while
echoing his sad heartbeat.
He’s aged quickly-his face
wearing deep worn ridges
and worry lines and filled
with veins snapped off
every inch by the force
of his quick fix bad habits,
revealing his older than he is age.
Loneliness and despair
bleeding his life away
while he loses himself in his
quick fix music- aching melodies
momentarily releasing him
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
his fuel to survive what
he must endure-his loneliness.
Nicotine marrow tickles his tongue,
addiction inhaled deeply
from rolled paper bones
a quick fix in lit flame
keeps him feeling okay.
His fingers find the
cold steel strings
of his guitar, he
plays a sad chord, or
two
three
or four.
The beautiful noise,
drowning his pain while
echoing his sad heartbeat.
He’s aged quickly-his face
wearing deep worn ridges
and worry lines and filled
with veins snapped off
every inch by the force
of his quick fix bad habits,
revealing his older than he is age.
Loneliness and despair
bleeding his life away
while he loses himself in his
quick fix music- aching melodies
momentarily releasing him
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Python-Snug
Clepsydra is the rock under falling water
And the dealate angel can tell time
with a sad teardrop constructed chime
sounding off every second with the crying rain
Time is not unlike a barbed ventricle chain
lashed severely around a living heart
in multiple coils tight and ready to tear it apart
Time is python-snug in its slow deliberate suffocation
Time is here to remind us eternity is our destination
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
And the dealate angel can tell time
with a sad teardrop constructed chime
sounding off every second with the crying rain
Time is not unlike a barbed ventricle chain
lashed severely around a living heart
in multiple coils tight and ready to tear it apart
Time is python-snug in its slow deliberate suffocation
Time is here to remind us eternity is our destination
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Pretty Wrapping Paper
1. Wrapping paper: sometimes expensive
with fancy labels, depending on the occasion.
She is beautiful with her clothes on
all wrapped up-men see her and want her.
Eyes, deep ocean blue: men could drown
in the geographical center of her sea,
but she doesn’t let them swim,
she doesn’t let them drift in-just nearby.
2. Visible portions of skin glow
under a warm sunset sky-silver
full moon nights illuminate
her pouty lips: makes a man
want her-want to unwrap her,
touch her, breathe her,
taste her, feel her, see her,
be in her- fulfilling his fantasies.
3. He unwraps her: horrified,
not what he wanted-not expected.
His fantasy turned nightmare-accidentally
judging a book by her cover.
Deceiving dust jacket-lust jacket-a pretty wrapping
hides a jaded present unwanted: truth is
the scar-the flaw exposed, is where
her reality and his lies-collide.
4. He pretends it doesn’t matter when
he sees it-she pretends it doesn’t hurt
when he looks at her and says without
meaning-he loves her-unconditionally.
Conditional I love yous-pillars of meaningless sex
we can make love- if only you
keep your shirt on-turn out the lights and stay
partially wrapped, pretty still-flaw hidden.
5. She’s conditioned herself
to not feel a damn thing.
Scarred flesh-never touched,
a part of her that remains virgin still
He won’t touch her there-ever
she doesn’t touch it-doesn’t look at it.
Her heart and soul knows
not love only sex-empty and void.
6. Wrapping paper sometimes expensive,
with fancy labels depending on the occasion,
dust jacket: lust jacket hiding her flaws
pretty wrapping–a clever deception
until the naked truth is exposed,
men to come and go: men cum and go…
with fancy labels, depending on the occasion.
She is beautiful with her clothes on
all wrapped up-men see her and want her.
Eyes, deep ocean blue: men could drown
in the geographical center of her sea,
but she doesn’t let them swim,
she doesn’t let them drift in-just nearby.
2. Visible portions of skin glow
under a warm sunset sky-silver
full moon nights illuminate
her pouty lips: makes a man
want her-want to unwrap her,
touch her, breathe her,
taste her, feel her, see her,
be in her- fulfilling his fantasies.
3. He unwraps her: horrified,
not what he wanted-not expected.
His fantasy turned nightmare-accidentally
judging a book by her cover.
Deceiving dust jacket-lust jacket-a pretty wrapping
hides a jaded present unwanted: truth is
the scar-the flaw exposed, is where
her reality and his lies-collide.
4. He pretends it doesn’t matter when
he sees it-she pretends it doesn’t hurt
when he looks at her and says without
meaning-he loves her-unconditionally.
Conditional I love yous-pillars of meaningless sex
we can make love- if only you
keep your shirt on-turn out the lights and stay
partially wrapped, pretty still-flaw hidden.
5. She’s conditioned herself
to not feel a damn thing.
Scarred flesh-never touched,
a part of her that remains virgin still
He won’t touch her there-ever
she doesn’t touch it-doesn’t look at it.
Her heart and soul knows
not love only sex-empty and void.
6. Wrapping paper sometimes expensive,
with fancy labels depending on the occasion,
dust jacket: lust jacket hiding her flaws
pretty wrapping–a clever deception
until the naked truth is exposed,
men to come and go: men cum and go…
One Question
Our metal butterfly wings flutter in smiles
With our many ant like legs which carry us miles.
Our fly eyes pour antagonistic frowns,
Human flesh just beetled carapace gowns.
We are but bugs in multitude,
Our human design still very crude;
Just the beginning larval stage.
A true potential we cannot yet gage,
Yet one question still does remain,
Will this be a potential we will ever attain?
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
A thought inspired by the quote “We will have the wings of eagles when the fallen angels fly”-Billy Jo Shaver
With our many ant like legs which carry us miles.
Our fly eyes pour antagonistic frowns,
Human flesh just beetled carapace gowns.
We are but bugs in multitude,
Our human design still very crude;
Just the beginning larval stage.
A true potential we cannot yet gage,
Yet one question still does remain,
Will this be a potential we will ever attain?
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
A thought inspired by the quote “We will have the wings of eagles when the fallen angels fly”-Billy Jo Shaver
Porcelain
Like porcelain
my heart breaks
spider-veining fissures
grow to consume its last
rhythmic beat
of hope...
the knife of reality
stabs at me playfully
toying with me
a sick game
never taking hold
completely
never finishing the kill
a sea of confusion
washes through my brain
sucking me under
drowning me in fear
my heart's shattered
illusions crash a my feet
destroying the reflections
of broken dreams
and echoed once more
in the dying beat of my heart
before it completely succumbs
to the despair
crimson droplets of tears
streak down my face
staining red
my reality...
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
my heart breaks
spider-veining fissures
grow to consume its last
rhythmic beat
of hope...
the knife of reality
stabs at me playfully
toying with me
a sick game
never taking hold
completely
never finishing the kill
a sea of confusion
washes through my brain
sucking me under
drowning me in fear
my heart's shattered
illusions crash a my feet
destroying the reflections
of broken dreams
and echoed once more
in the dying beat of my heart
before it completely succumbs
to the despair
crimson droplets of tears
streak down my face
staining red
my reality...
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Pinholes
I am among the miscellaneous items,
none of significance; cast away
forgotten like the carapaces of dead insects
littering the ground beneath marching feet.
Lost within a long beat of silence-
the noiseless hum-like a prolonged seizure,
this, the status epilepticus of my heart-
whose echo hops like a frog among
the false pillars of fairytale hopes and
dreams pushed into nightmares through
the star burned pinholes of a midnight sky.
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
none of significance; cast away
forgotten like the carapaces of dead insects
littering the ground beneath marching feet.
Lost within a long beat of silence-
the noiseless hum-like a prolonged seizure,
this, the status epilepticus of my heart-
whose echo hops like a frog among
the false pillars of fairytale hopes and
dreams pushed into nightmares through
the star burned pinholes of a midnight sky.
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Pinch Back
Her eye lids pinch back tears
a feigned smile hides her fears,
gone today is yesterday;
while tomorrow arrives at the close of today,
as times plays a cruel twisted game-
the tick-tock clock will never be tame;
keeps on going its own way
forever onward from today,
not backwards only forward,
quite punctual, exact, and straightforward
she wants to pinch it back like an unshed tear
growing old-unfinished is her greatest fear
and time waits for no one-
definitely not her.
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
a feigned smile hides her fears,
gone today is yesterday;
while tomorrow arrives at the close of today,
as times plays a cruel twisted game-
the tick-tock clock will never be tame;
keeps on going its own way
forever onward from today,
not backwards only forward,
quite punctual, exact, and straightforward
she wants to pinch it back like an unshed tear
growing old-unfinished is her greatest fear
and time waits for no one-
definitely not her.
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Friday, September 3, 2010
Our Secret Atlantis Found
We found Atlantis
you…
and…
I
Your fingers
like magic…
bathymeters recording
all contours
of me…
all depths of me
leaving me breathless…
leaving me baryphonic
A bascule
only attempts
to record our love…
only both ends
sink deeply into
the deepest depths
of the sea…
Everything
about us…
our love…
is bathyorographical
The sea keeps her secrets
and so do we...
I know where to find
you…
your bathysmal soul...
Atlantis is not lost
it is found only to us…
Our secret spot
where you found my bathypelagic heart
brought back to life
by the rhythmic
tides of the sea
her sweet endless berceuse
The bathythermograph does not lie…
the water temperatures rise
we run hot together
you and I……
We will tell them
not to worry
it is only global warming
and the Sea
she will keep our secret
safe in Atlantis
Poseidon will walk me down the aisle
Proteus will wed us
and Arion will carry us away
to the long forgotten geographical
center of the sea…
We will honeymoon and make love
in beautiful gardens
of glowing benthos
Where no one will know
No one will see…
The Sea…
She knows our secret
its safe in her keeping
We found Atlantis
a sunken world
known only to us
Our secret Atlantis
where our love is benthic
Where we happily drown in each other
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
you…
and…
I
Your fingers
like magic…
bathymeters recording
all contours
of me…
all depths of me
leaving me breathless…
leaving me baryphonic
A bascule
only attempts
to record our love…
only both ends
sink deeply into
the deepest depths
of the sea…
Everything
about us…
our love…
is bathyorographical
The sea keeps her secrets
and so do we...
I know where to find
you…
your bathysmal soul...
Atlantis is not lost
it is found only to us…
Our secret spot
where you found my bathypelagic heart
brought back to life
by the rhythmic
tides of the sea
her sweet endless berceuse
The bathythermograph does not lie…
the water temperatures rise
we run hot together
you and I……
We will tell them
not to worry
it is only global warming
and the Sea
she will keep our secret
safe in Atlantis
Poseidon will walk me down the aisle
Proteus will wed us
and Arion will carry us away
to the long forgotten geographical
center of the sea…
We will honeymoon and make love
in beautiful gardens
of glowing benthos
Where no one will know
No one will see…
The Sea…
She knows our secret
its safe in her keeping
We found Atlantis
a sunken world
known only to us
Our secret Atlantis
where our love is benthic
Where we happily drown in each other
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Only a Song My Heart Hears
My dreams follow Chordeiles minor south-
His winter’s flight that promises me no return.
My lips hold tight a frown upon my mouth,
My ears deaf to the sad bird songs for which I yearn.
Those singing birds with the way they sink;
Their lyrical beaks into the thoughts my heart does think
Thoughts like startled starlings which fester in anxious flight,
An already crippled movement stopped between a painful heartbeat,
Cleverly suspended amongst the webs of words I write
In raw emotions-open and honest nothing discreet.
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
His winter’s flight that promises me no return.
My lips hold tight a frown upon my mouth,
My ears deaf to the sad bird songs for which I yearn.
Those singing birds with the way they sink;
Their lyrical beaks into the thoughts my heart does think
Thoughts like startled starlings which fester in anxious flight,
An already crippled movement stopped between a painful heartbeat,
Cleverly suspended amongst the webs of words I write
In raw emotions-open and honest nothing discreet.
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Nocturnal Predators
Foreboding sharpening becoming less a thought
More a taste-bitter flavor of fear
Insomnia-nothing new
Forced into the wakeful state of reality
Wishing for the solace found in dreams
Suppressed sobs lost in a dry wind
Shivering through laced tree boughs
Waiting patiently for the nonexistent rain
To cleanse the soul, wash the stains clean
Whistling static drowns the calm required for sleep
Becoming hissing roars that stir wild thoughts
Like nothing is everything and everything is gone
And Hell is lying sleepless in the dark
Listening for the choir of wolves
Piping ululant wails
Their ghostly serenade-
A blood song melody
That preludes the kill
Singing of the strange hungers and gnawing needs
Of a starved heart which collapses into itself
With a slow current of dread that
Ripples like a fever chill
Those horrid thoughts that kill
Not in a way that leaves you dead only
Keeping you wide awake at night instead
Nocturnal hunters-stalking their prey
Insomnia-nothing new
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
More a taste-bitter flavor of fear
Insomnia-nothing new
Forced into the wakeful state of reality
Wishing for the solace found in dreams
Suppressed sobs lost in a dry wind
Shivering through laced tree boughs
Waiting patiently for the nonexistent rain
To cleanse the soul, wash the stains clean
Whistling static drowns the calm required for sleep
Becoming hissing roars that stir wild thoughts
Like nothing is everything and everything is gone
And Hell is lying sleepless in the dark
Listening for the choir of wolves
Piping ululant wails
Their ghostly serenade-
A blood song melody
That preludes the kill
Singing of the strange hungers and gnawing needs
Of a starved heart which collapses into itself
With a slow current of dread that
Ripples like a fever chill
Those horrid thoughts that kill
Not in a way that leaves you dead only
Keeping you wide awake at night instead
Nocturnal hunters-stalking their prey
Insomnia-nothing new
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
No Shadows in Music
There are no shadows
in music, just emotion
translated into song, only
sometimes born from torment
turned into beauty
even if…
angry
blue
or broken
any musician knows this well
somewhere a musician's
heart cries tears jagged
like the edge of the
crescent moon
he is writing a new song
to heal old wounds
his inspiration-
his own heartbeat
beating with a sound
that rattles and stutters
like wild castanets
tangled in tormenting feelings-
and pains from deep within
he needs to translate them
outside in, inside out
he sits in an empty room
empty of everything
but shadows and
his guitar
his fingers travel
cool steel strings
all alone, and
scratch a one rhythm section-
a beautiful chord
creating a sound born of
raw feelings and heart
translating his
inner thoughts
easing his pain
and temporarily
dancing his tormenting
shadows away
in the end the musician
finds solace in a new song
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
in music, just emotion
translated into song, only
sometimes born from torment
turned into beauty
even if…
angry
blue
or broken
any musician knows this well
somewhere a musician's
heart cries tears jagged
like the edge of the
crescent moon
he is writing a new song
to heal old wounds
his inspiration-
his own heartbeat
beating with a sound
that rattles and stutters
like wild castanets
tangled in tormenting feelings-
and pains from deep within
he needs to translate them
outside in, inside out
he sits in an empty room
empty of everything
but shadows and
his guitar
his fingers travel
cool steel strings
all alone, and
scratch a one rhythm section-
a beautiful chord
creating a sound born of
raw feelings and heart
translating his
inner thoughts
easing his pain
and temporarily
dancing his tormenting
shadows away
in the end the musician
finds solace in a new song
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Nature
I stand in the rain inhaling the petrichor on the soft storm’s breeze,
Listening to the music of raindrop falling against the leaves of trees,
Nature is a timeless beauty-carries exceptional grace
That of which mankind and all their creations can never replace
We can never control her emotions-and in the wake of this truth we are made meek,
Our powers, when compared to hers are nothing but weak.
Nature abounds under the smallest rock, the deepest sea, and the expansive sky above
We tear her flesh, burn her wooden veins-where is our mercy, our love?
She has given us the soft earth between our toes upon which we walk,
Given to us the breathtaking beauty of seasons and life that bring us to gawk,
She is the splendor behind the rise and fall of the blue ocean tides,
she is the fragrant scent dancing from flowered petals opened wide,
She is the ancient bough laced forest all-knowing and wise,
She is the great blue expanse of the infinite skies,
She is all this and more than we’ll ever come to know, she is more than you and me,
For she is you and me and from this truth we cannot flee.
Should we one day destroy her for good,
We destroy everything and ourselves, how can this not be understood?
We must seek balance and harmony with her to keep things right,
To keep our future and hers bright.
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Listening to the music of raindrop falling against the leaves of trees,
Nature is a timeless beauty-carries exceptional grace
That of which mankind and all their creations can never replace
We can never control her emotions-and in the wake of this truth we are made meek,
Our powers, when compared to hers are nothing but weak.
Nature abounds under the smallest rock, the deepest sea, and the expansive sky above
We tear her flesh, burn her wooden veins-where is our mercy, our love?
She has given us the soft earth between our toes upon which we walk,
Given to us the breathtaking beauty of seasons and life that bring us to gawk,
She is the splendor behind the rise and fall of the blue ocean tides,
she is the fragrant scent dancing from flowered petals opened wide,
She is the ancient bough laced forest all-knowing and wise,
She is the great blue expanse of the infinite skies,
She is all this and more than we’ll ever come to know, she is more than you and me,
For she is you and me and from this truth we cannot flee.
Should we one day destroy her for good,
We destroy everything and ourselves, how can this not be understood?
We must seek balance and harmony with her to keep things right,
To keep our future and hers bright.
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
A Love Like Poetry
One day we will write poetry-you and I,
With echoed heartbeats, passionate kisses, tender touches;
A bright horizon promise for us draws nigh-
To be lost in each other’s gentle clutches,
To hold each other close whispering words
With true meanings like I love you;
Our love will soar beyond the heights of birds,
One day our love will be like poetry.
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
With echoed heartbeats, passionate kisses, tender touches;
A bright horizon promise for us draws nigh-
To be lost in each other’s gentle clutches,
To hold each other close whispering words
With true meanings like I love you;
Our love will soar beyond the heights of birds,
One day our love will be like poetry.
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Nameless Oeuvre
I want to write you a missive
but mere mondegreens
would paralyze the paper
paper laced with words;
words meant to be mellifluous
But I cannot write
I have lost my words
Wait! no I misspoke;
the words are not lost
The words are not flowing
or rhyming just stuck
on the tip of my tongue
Out of my reach but there
tormenting me;
those words
Words desiring to be
adroitly conflated
with raw emotion
Words longing to be
SET FREE
to be UNDERSTOOD
But alas I am misunderstood
a peccadillo hiding beneath
flesh of a ridiculous ingenue
If I did know you
I would tell you
I love petrichor
and anything
remotely pelagic
that's why I love horses
I would tell you a secret
I love big words; ones I can write
but cannot pronounce
but even more than those
I love poetic words
and beautiful pictures
I could be your moiety
drifting upon
a foudroyant offing
The piece searching
for a piece-whole heart
the complete puzzle
just out of reach
like my words
I am desperate
to capture; be captured
I would ask you
if you can swim
Yes?! Then swim to me
Adumbrate please
the thoughts on your mind
I would be in love to know
I want the serendipity
in synchronicity
to find me
happenstance
finding what it is
you are not looking for
I want you to
FIND ME because
I am too scared to look for you
serendipity within the sempiternal
close your eyes
can you see?
This is not a poem
or a Nameless Oeuvre
it has a name only you can give it
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
but mere mondegreens
would paralyze the paper
paper laced with words;
words meant to be mellifluous
But I cannot write
I have lost my words
Wait! no I misspoke;
the words are not lost
The words are not flowing
or rhyming just stuck
on the tip of my tongue
Out of my reach but there
tormenting me;
those words
Words desiring to be
adroitly conflated
with raw emotion
Words longing to be
SET FREE
to be UNDERSTOOD
But alas I am misunderstood
a peccadillo hiding beneath
flesh of a ridiculous ingenue
If I did know you
I would tell you
I love petrichor
and anything
remotely pelagic
that's why I love horses
I would tell you a secret
I love big words; ones I can write
but cannot pronounce
but even more than those
I love poetic words
and beautiful pictures
I could be your moiety
drifting upon
a foudroyant offing
The piece searching
for a piece-whole heart
the complete puzzle
just out of reach
like my words
I am desperate
to capture; be captured
I would ask you
if you can swim
Yes?! Then swim to me
Adumbrate please
the thoughts on your mind
I would be in love to know
I want the serendipity
in synchronicity
to find me
happenstance
finding what it is
you are not looking for
I want you to
FIND ME because
I am too scared to look for you
serendipity within the sempiternal
close your eyes
can you see?
This is not a poem
or a Nameless Oeuvre
it has a name only you can give it
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Offing Lost
The offing is lost somewhere beyond here and there
a bare of ship horizon leads to nowhere but somewhere beyond here and there
somewhere beyond here and there is a time named, this second right now
where is he in this moment?
I am but lost in shattered tears while he sings a song- a lyrical blizzard of
swallows for her
Near to a shore lost by the offing already lost.
Time line, time line does not lie
and I do not write pretty pictures just emotions like moth ravaged tapestries on weathered walls
in old cold castled halls
reminiscent of the bard stile that once brought passage to my heart
before it fell apart
Pieces of which now lost in the offing -lost somewhere beyond the here and there
Somewhere beyond a time named, this second right now
where is my heart in this moment,
Clenched in his teeth somewhere on a bare of ship horizon leading nowhere with him,
just the swallows
who sing for her.
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
a bare of ship horizon leads to nowhere but somewhere beyond here and there
somewhere beyond here and there is a time named, this second right now
where is he in this moment?
I am but lost in shattered tears while he sings a song- a lyrical blizzard of
swallows for her
Near to a shore lost by the offing already lost.
Time line, time line does not lie
and I do not write pretty pictures just emotions like moth ravaged tapestries on weathered walls
in old cold castled halls
reminiscent of the bard stile that once brought passage to my heart
before it fell apart
Pieces of which now lost in the offing -lost somewhere beyond the here and there
Somewhere beyond a time named, this second right now
where is my heart in this moment,
Clenched in his teeth somewhere on a bare of ship horizon leading nowhere with him,
just the swallows
who sing for her.
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Sea of Sin
Voyagers we are
but lost upon the infinite ocean
Days of challenge to endure
days of peace to enjoy
The waves of time walloping and
assaulting or soothing our flesh
condemned by our ancestral sin
Across barbed stile- sea anemone tongues
sting us to stop in our tracks
leave us off guard but still struggling
to live and enjoying the pain
that often feels good
until the after taste is felt
A certain eternity echoes
forever our name but
scrupulously reflects the same life
constructed new flesh to
cover old bones, to live
again continuously because
we forsake our absolute truth
Compelled by lust, by greed
we mask our past
The red apple of Eden
turns a succulent cherry
and bursts again that same sin
bound again and again
to the rise and fall
with the infinite ocean waves
forever lost at sea
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
but lost upon the infinite ocean
Days of challenge to endure
days of peace to enjoy
The waves of time walloping and
assaulting or soothing our flesh
condemned by our ancestral sin
Across barbed stile- sea anemone tongues
sting us to stop in our tracks
leave us off guard but still struggling
to live and enjoying the pain
that often feels good
until the after taste is felt
A certain eternity echoes
forever our name but
scrupulously reflects the same life
constructed new flesh to
cover old bones, to live
again continuously because
we forsake our absolute truth
Compelled by lust, by greed
we mask our past
The red apple of Eden
turns a succulent cherry
and bursts again that same sin
bound again and again
to the rise and fall
with the infinite ocean waves
forever lost at sea
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Metensomatosis
There is a hole
in tomorrow
the size of
yesterday
and we are
all stuck
in the middle
of today
which looks
a lot like
Wednesday
almost a
Thursday
but not quite
a Tuesday,
like a wave
that swells
in the neap
of oceanic time
stuck in the
metemptosis
the day purposely
vanished,
that moment
found at
the edge of
Forever
the place
where all souls go
to prepare for
metensomatosis
That hole
in tomorrow
looks a lot
like today
and the
reflection of yesterday
and the promise of
Tomorrow…
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
in tomorrow
the size of
yesterday
and we are
all stuck
in the middle
of today
which looks
a lot like
Wednesday
almost a
Thursday
but not quite
a Tuesday,
like a wave
that swells
in the neap
of oceanic time
stuck in the
metemptosis
the day purposely
vanished,
that moment
found at
the edge of
Forever
the place
where all souls go
to prepare for
metensomatosis
That hole
in tomorrow
looks a lot
like today
and the
reflection of yesterday
and the promise of
Tomorrow…
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Leave Behind
Watch me the crooked sparrow
fly towards the hole
in the empty sky
slowed down by
juvenile wings and heavy bones
you watch me
leave this world behind
far behind
the tears I shed
bleed into spurious synthetic citizens
marching like ants
forming trafficking black veins
connecting like highways
consuming all in their wake
and leaving dark smog smoke
across her once fair face
mother earth is dying
beautifully ugly
isn’t she?
watch me the crooked sparrow
fly toward the hole
in the empty sky
not giving a damn
about what is left behind
the ruins and
mankind
death by his own hand
prophesized his own fate
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
fly towards the hole
in the empty sky
slowed down by
juvenile wings and heavy bones
you watch me
leave this world behind
far behind
the tears I shed
bleed into spurious synthetic citizens
marching like ants
forming trafficking black veins
connecting like highways
consuming all in their wake
and leaving dark smog smoke
across her once fair face
mother earth is dying
beautifully ugly
isn’t she?
watch me the crooked sparrow
fly toward the hole
in the empty sky
not giving a damn
about what is left behind
the ruins and
mankind
death by his own hand
prophesized his own fate
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Isometric Isomorphism
(i really have no idea where my mind was going with this...I just went with it and this poem is the result)
Every day I wake up to a one dimensional world…
human monotony
Religion and Politics together- a mind stunting neoteny
what travesty
People blind, not able to see outside and beyond indoctrinated reality
Losing piece by piece their absolute totality
disillusioned by their stunted mentality
The Euclidean March I call it
perfected by political propaganda and holy writ
Humanity walks a very thin line
without knowledge of real time
Human monotony limiting us to one dimension
our intellect and consciousness are kept from ascension
handicapping our mind
making the truth so very hard to find
Humanity not thinking beyond one dimension barely seeing two
let along three or four
or the possibility of there ever being more
no longer having the drive to explore
for a truth they would most certainly adore
They continue this one dimensional thinking
never rethinking
just one dimensional flat thinking
thinking only Inside out and not outside and beyond
just content trying to be part of the beau monde,
that never ceasing pathetic materialistic quest
of which the truly intelligent are never impressed
for the intelligent are always searching
and always researching
continuing to look for all the answers
They are the never ceasing intellectual dancers
While the others are stuck in their false reality
that forecasts a certain fatality
Each person trapped on their own embedded layer
unable to see the truth of the universal multilayer
stuck we are in a complex system of an isometric isomorphism
searching for our hyperbolic quaternion- our magic prism
we are stuck between untruth and truth in a hellish schism
Lucky I have been, for I have gazed through the optical prism
into a world that goes on infinitely outside the hellish schism
I have learned that when ordinary three dimensions of space combine
they form a single dimension of time
a waltz called Minkowski's Spacetime
a four dimensional manifold
a place where many dimensions of possibility unfold
a reality that is true site to behold
The mindless mass of humanity can have their one dimensional world
I have held the knowledge of the truth unfurled
I have seen the truthful real world
I would rather waltz with Minkowski while singing his tune
than march with Euclidean to his doom
"Space by itself
and time by itself
are doomed
to fade away
into mere shadows
unless they dance
together in unison
preserving their
Independent Reality"
Einstein knew it, so too did Lorentz and Poincare
Chasing after Truth, Time, and Space for eternity shall be a wild affair!
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Every day I wake up to a one dimensional world…
human monotony
Religion and Politics together- a mind stunting neoteny
what travesty
People blind, not able to see outside and beyond indoctrinated reality
Losing piece by piece their absolute totality
disillusioned by their stunted mentality
The Euclidean March I call it
perfected by political propaganda and holy writ
Humanity walks a very thin line
without knowledge of real time
Human monotony limiting us to one dimension
our intellect and consciousness are kept from ascension
handicapping our mind
making the truth so very hard to find
Humanity not thinking beyond one dimension barely seeing two
let along three or four
or the possibility of there ever being more
no longer having the drive to explore
for a truth they would most certainly adore
They continue this one dimensional thinking
never rethinking
just one dimensional flat thinking
thinking only Inside out and not outside and beyond
just content trying to be part of the beau monde,
that never ceasing pathetic materialistic quest
of which the truly intelligent are never impressed
for the intelligent are always searching
and always researching
continuing to look for all the answers
They are the never ceasing intellectual dancers
While the others are stuck in their false reality
that forecasts a certain fatality
Each person trapped on their own embedded layer
unable to see the truth of the universal multilayer
stuck we are in a complex system of an isometric isomorphism
searching for our hyperbolic quaternion- our magic prism
we are stuck between untruth and truth in a hellish schism
Lucky I have been, for I have gazed through the optical prism
into a world that goes on infinitely outside the hellish schism
I have learned that when ordinary three dimensions of space combine
they form a single dimension of time
a waltz called Minkowski's Spacetime
a four dimensional manifold
a place where many dimensions of possibility unfold
a reality that is true site to behold
The mindless mass of humanity can have their one dimensional world
I have held the knowledge of the truth unfurled
I have seen the truthful real world
I would rather waltz with Minkowski while singing his tune
than march with Euclidean to his doom
"Space by itself
and time by itself
are doomed
to fade away
into mere shadows
unless they dance
together in unison
preserving their
Independent Reality"
Einstein knew it, so too did Lorentz and Poincare
Chasing after Truth, Time, and Space for eternity shall be a wild affair!
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Interlunation
(this is a work in progress)
Children are safe
within
their once upon a time
COCOON
safe in make believe-
fantasy
fables
and
fairy tales
safe in
their innocent
unreality
protecting them
until their wings
are able and
strong enough
to hold them aloft
when it truly matters
reality waits…
hiding at the back
of the moon
lurking in the
interlunation
waiting for
the chance
to break through
the paper
thin
sheltering walls
of their
imaginary world
waiting to
show them the truth
of how they will
spend
the rest of their lives…
as an adult
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Children are safe
within
their once upon a time
COCOON
safe in make believe-
fantasy
fables
and
fairy tales
safe in
their innocent
unreality
protecting them
until their wings
are able and
strong enough
to hold them aloft
when it truly matters
reality waits…
hiding at the back
of the moon
lurking in the
interlunation
waiting for
the chance
to break through
the paper
thin
sheltering walls
of their
imaginary world
waiting to
show them the truth
of how they will
spend
the rest of their lives…
as an adult
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Insomniac
no sleep
only an
illustrated wakefulness
hovering on
the edge of a dream
i wake to walk sideways
into the burgeoning day
there is no
morning star
visible in my night's
vanishing sky
i confuse fear with grief
and block my tears
until i become
too numb to feel
a damn thing
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
only an
illustrated wakefulness
hovering on
the edge of a dream
i wake to walk sideways
into the burgeoning day
there is no
morning star
visible in my night's
vanishing sky
i confuse fear with grief
and block my tears
until i become
too numb to feel
a damn thing
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Pinch Back
Her eye lids pinch back tears
a feigned smile hides her fears,
gone today is yesterday;
while tomorrow arrives at the close of today,
as times plays a cruel twisted game-
the tick-tock clock will never be tame;
keeps on going its own way
forever onward from today,
not backwards only forward,
quite punctual, exact, and straightforward
she wants to pinch it back like an unshed tear
growing old-unfinished is her greatest fear
and time waits for no one-
definitely not her.
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
a feigned smile hides her fears,
gone today is yesterday;
while tomorrow arrives at the close of today,
as times plays a cruel twisted game-
the tick-tock clock will never be tame;
keeps on going its own way
forever onward from today,
not backwards only forward,
quite punctual, exact, and straightforward
she wants to pinch it back like an unshed tear
growing old-unfinished is her greatest fear
and time waits for no one-
definitely not her.
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Ill-fated Jonah
Your persona burns blue
the way a driftwood fire ravages sea salt
the real you is the character untrue
shift the blame for in others you find the fault
you are everything entirely perfect
or so you thought-you are but a ghost, pale, and hollow
what you touch you infect
and I find your being hard to swallow
no matter how sweet your song
no matter how beautiful your voice
you are wrong, oh so wrong
everything you are is pressed between
the pages of Jay Mcinerney’s imperfect city
Bright lights , wild nights, nicotine and caffeine
you are not worth a single ounce of pity
John Fowler gave you a clever name:
Nicholas Urfe suits your character too
bored, depressed, disillusioned, and overwhelmed by shame
and I bid the pathetic you, adieu
Oaths in marriage will not kill your decadent persona,
for sake of a rhyme I’ll call you the ill-fated Jonah…
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
(inspired by the a musician who use to play women better than his instruments...)
the way a driftwood fire ravages sea salt
the real you is the character untrue
shift the blame for in others you find the fault
you are everything entirely perfect
or so you thought-you are but a ghost, pale, and hollow
what you touch you infect
and I find your being hard to swallow
no matter how sweet your song
no matter how beautiful your voice
you are wrong, oh so wrong
everything you are is pressed between
the pages of Jay Mcinerney’s imperfect city
Bright lights , wild nights, nicotine and caffeine
you are not worth a single ounce of pity
John Fowler gave you a clever name:
Nicholas Urfe suits your character too
bored, depressed, disillusioned, and overwhelmed by shame
and I bid the pathetic you, adieu
Oaths in marriage will not kill your decadent persona,
for sake of a rhyme I’ll call you the ill-fated Jonah…
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
(inspired by the a musician who use to play women better than his instruments...)
I Stand Alone
I stand inside the glass case
always alone
a show piece but not really
just the price of thinking differently
"Item one!" hollers the auctioneer
a crowd of potential buyers gather
they all look alike
almost identical
but nothing like me
"Oh isn't she beautiful!" one bidder remarks
"Exquisite!" another yells excitedly
"Minute and so finely detailed!" still another shouts
"Unique, truly one-of-a-kind!" shrieks a louder one still
"Fifty thousand!" cries the first bidder
"Eighty thousand!" says the next
"Make that one hundred thousand!"
Then I hear
my own voice
scream
"I bid one ounce of truth!"
Glass shatters at my feet
all around
Now I stand alone amongst the shards
in an empty room
my world, all I know
the highest bid wins
Independent minds think alone but not alike
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
(Inspired by a poem my grandmother used to tell me as a child)
always alone
a show piece but not really
just the price of thinking differently
"Item one!" hollers the auctioneer
a crowd of potential buyers gather
they all look alike
almost identical
but nothing like me
"Oh isn't she beautiful!" one bidder remarks
"Exquisite!" another yells excitedly
"Minute and so finely detailed!" still another shouts
"Unique, truly one-of-a-kind!" shrieks a louder one still
"Fifty thousand!" cries the first bidder
"Eighty thousand!" says the next
"Make that one hundred thousand!"
Then I hear
my own voice
scream
"I bid one ounce of truth!"
Glass shatters at my feet
all around
Now I stand alone amongst the shards
in an empty room
my world, all I know
the highest bid wins
Independent minds think alone but not alike
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
(Inspired by a poem my grandmother used to tell me as a child)
I Don't Like Friday
In a quiet moment of personal reflection I remembered today why I don't like Friday.
Too many things end on a Friday
just as too many troubles begin....
My grandfather died on a Friday
Two years later, so did my grandmother.
Friday claimed my beloved sheltie dog.
Just as a horrible car wreck took my dear friend.
The worst day of my life found me on a Friday.
Friday was the day I self-destructed.
Nine years ago on a Friday
I let my mother down in her greatest moment of need- the most important person in my life.
It was a Friday that cancer came to visit her and stayed for quite awhile.
Friday in a fit of scared tears, at college, she called me.
Desperately needing someone to talk to- her only daughter, her best friend.
That very Friday I hung up on her as soon as she told me the news.
I was too scared to hear those words. I couldn't listen, I didn't want to.
I never touched a drop of alcohol until that Friday.
I threw my innocence away on that very Friday,
just so I could hurt myself as badly as I had hurt her.
Friday is the worst day.
Every time Friday comes my way
I remember
and I still feel the guilt.
I have not forgiven myself, but my mother has, she understood my fear before I did.
I'll take a Tuesday over a Friday
Give me a Saturday, Sunday, or Monday, even a Thursday
But spare me another somber Friday.
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Too many things end on a Friday
just as too many troubles begin....
My grandfather died on a Friday
Two years later, so did my grandmother.
Friday claimed my beloved sheltie dog.
Just as a horrible car wreck took my dear friend.
The worst day of my life found me on a Friday.
Friday was the day I self-destructed.
Nine years ago on a Friday
I let my mother down in her greatest moment of need- the most important person in my life.
It was a Friday that cancer came to visit her and stayed for quite awhile.
Friday in a fit of scared tears, at college, she called me.
Desperately needing someone to talk to- her only daughter, her best friend.
That very Friday I hung up on her as soon as she told me the news.
I was too scared to hear those words. I couldn't listen, I didn't want to.
I never touched a drop of alcohol until that Friday.
I threw my innocence away on that very Friday,
just so I could hurt myself as badly as I had hurt her.
Friday is the worst day.
Every time Friday comes my way
I remember
and I still feel the guilt.
I have not forgiven myself, but my mother has, she understood my fear before I did.
I'll take a Tuesday over a Friday
Give me a Saturday, Sunday, or Monday, even a Thursday
But spare me another somber Friday.
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Heart’s Nightmare
A blooming golden sunrise
chases a daydream to the sky
a daydream colored red
like love, like passion
a daydream of what
I have not
I don't chase dreams
anymore
especially dreams of love
love fades away
down the road in twilight
becoming vanished thoughts
perplexing my yesterdays
haunting my tomorrows
while, today, I am left
still contemplating
what love was,
is,
is not
perhaps never will be
for me
my daydream
is
my heart's nightmare
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
chases a daydream to the sky
a daydream colored red
like love, like passion
a daydream of what
I have not
I don't chase dreams
anymore
especially dreams of love
love fades away
down the road in twilight
becoming vanished thoughts
perplexing my yesterdays
haunting my tomorrows
while, today, I am left
still contemplating
what love was,
is,
is not
perhaps never will be
for me
my daydream
is
my heart's nightmare
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Heart is a House
WICKED
dilapidated
empty house
gone silver with time
there a few sounds
so dead and hollow
NOTHING
nothing at all
you'll find it is locked
the keys have been lost for years
all doors
all windows
LOCKED
are the all locked tight?
superstition brushing his skin
his attempt to reach her
knocking on the door of
a place outside the world
she is
not answering
gave up
on love
a house locked tight
KNOCK KNOCK
who is there?
...he doesn't care
to give up on her
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
dilapidated
empty house
gone silver with time
there a few sounds
so dead and hollow
NOTHING
nothing at all
you'll find it is locked
the keys have been lost for years
all doors
all windows
LOCKED
are the all locked tight?
superstition brushing his skin
his attempt to reach her
knocking on the door of
a place outside the world
she is
not answering
gave up
on love
a house locked tight
KNOCK KNOCK
who is there?
...he doesn't care
to give up on her
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Forever and A Day
A silent name
on the tip of my
stifled heart's tongue
beckons
to my soul,
keeping it alive
with
a hope that
Plato's Aristophanes'
words could ignite
in absolute truth
the reality and possibility
of twin flames
actually existing.
I will wait as long as it takes if it means waiting forever and a day.
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
(inspired by {Plato's concepts of Soulmates)
on the tip of my
stifled heart's tongue
beckons
to my soul,
keeping it alive
with
a hope that
Plato's Aristophanes'
words could ignite
in absolute truth
the reality and possibility
of twin flames
actually existing.
I will wait as long as it takes if it means waiting forever and a day.
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
(inspired by {Plato's concepts of Soulmates)
Forgiveness
The old wind whispers through my hair
as I sit back against my favorite tree
contemplating the shadows of yesterday
which still sting me today
shadows like choices
I wish
I never made in my youthful
INNOCENCE
My lost subconscious cries
as my benign heart
shatters not unlike
the mirror which reflects
the lost image of myself
that I brazenly dropped
when I grew disgusted
by the sight of
the recognizable stranger
looking back at me
I saw my transparent self
the person on the other side
the one who always looks
like me
except for that
DAMN
smile
I look at the pieces of glass
now at scattered at my feet
sharply abstracted tiles
reflecting that image still
this time hundreds of
fragments of
HER
I feel sorry for her
and I can't help but ask
the pieces of her
do you hate me?
Her calm expression is distracted
by an intense recognition
I hear her say
NO, just forgive yourself
and I will be okay
and so will you...
FORGIVE
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
as I sit back against my favorite tree
contemplating the shadows of yesterday
which still sting me today
shadows like choices
I wish
I never made in my youthful
INNOCENCE
My lost subconscious cries
as my benign heart
shatters not unlike
the mirror which reflects
the lost image of myself
that I brazenly dropped
when I grew disgusted
by the sight of
the recognizable stranger
looking back at me
I saw my transparent self
the person on the other side
the one who always looks
like me
except for that
DAMN
smile
I look at the pieces of glass
now at scattered at my feet
sharply abstracted tiles
reflecting that image still
this time hundreds of
fragments of
HER
I feel sorry for her
and I can't help but ask
the pieces of her
do you hate me?
Her calm expression is distracted
by an intense recognition
I hear her say
NO, just forgive yourself
and I will be okay
and so will you...
FORGIVE
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Fly Away Butterfly
I want to be a
fly away butterfly
wearing the monarch
colors of innocence
that time never fades
I want to be a
fly away butterfly
with an unmasked beauty
mellowed by sudden
untimely timidness
I want to soar with confidence
I want to flutter low
I want to be a
fly away butterfly
for all she represents
contentment epitomized
in all the greatest sense
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
fly away butterfly
wearing the monarch
colors of innocence
that time never fades
I want to be a
fly away butterfly
with an unmasked beauty
mellowed by sudden
untimely timidness
I want to soar with confidence
I want to flutter low
I want to be a
fly away butterfly
for all she represents
contentment epitomized
in all the greatest sense
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Find You
Wearing an upside down frown
In my tears all I can do is drown
Before me the desolate road
And pent up emotions about to explode
Searching for a way back
Through the empty pitch black
Looking for someone like you
Holding a promise of love so true
I want to be with someone like you
All the dreams I am chasing after
Are promises of you, my happily ever after
I've been searching for someone like you
Holding a promise of love so true
Please just reach for my hand
And take my heart if you understand
I'll give you my forever heart
Nothing will ever tear us apart
Together forever we are meant to be
I am the lock and you are the key
To a life that promises happily ever after
And all the dreams I've been chasing after
Searching for a way back
Through the empty pitch black
Looking for someone like you
In my tears all I can do is drown
While wearing this silly frown
Before me the empty desolate road
And pent up emotions about to explode
Together forever
For better or worse
There is no one I'd rather be with
With you love is no myth
I am searching for someone like you
Holding a promise of love so true
I'll find my way back
Through all the empty pitch black
I will find someone like you
and love anew
I am searching for someone like you
Holding a promise of love so true
There is no one I'd rather be with
With you love is no myth
I am searching for someone like you
Holding a promise of love so true
I'll find my way to someone like you
I will find you
I will find you
I will find you
I will find you
I will find you
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
(A somewhat "dorky" attempt at writing a song)
In my tears all I can do is drown
Before me the desolate road
And pent up emotions about to explode
Searching for a way back
Through the empty pitch black
Looking for someone like you
Holding a promise of love so true
I want to be with someone like you
All the dreams I am chasing after
Are promises of you, my happily ever after
I've been searching for someone like you
Holding a promise of love so true
Please just reach for my hand
And take my heart if you understand
I'll give you my forever heart
Nothing will ever tear us apart
Together forever we are meant to be
I am the lock and you are the key
To a life that promises happily ever after
And all the dreams I've been chasing after
Searching for a way back
Through the empty pitch black
Looking for someone like you
In my tears all I can do is drown
While wearing this silly frown
Before me the empty desolate road
And pent up emotions about to explode
Together forever
For better or worse
There is no one I'd rather be with
With you love is no myth
I am searching for someone like you
Holding a promise of love so true
I'll find my way back
Through all the empty pitch black
I will find someone like you
and love anew
I am searching for someone like you
Holding a promise of love so true
There is no one I'd rather be with
With you love is no myth
I am searching for someone like you
Holding a promise of love so true
I'll find my way to someone like you
I will find you
I will find you
I will find you
I will find you
I will find you
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
(A somewhat "dorky" attempt at writing a song)
Fall Down Fledgling
She wakes up
in the morning
for the sunrise
just to see it
fall
d
o
w
n
come night
She is quartering
her dreams
and false hopes
upon a ship
called
r
e
a
l
i
t
y
She, the girl
who has everything
parents like
b
i
r
d
s
regurgitating
things like
dollars & cents
cars & a house
education
a no struggle future
into her
p
o
c
k
e
t
s
Parent like undying
hearts who love
her unconditionally
giving her
a world
u
n
r
e
a
l
to most people
Parents who have
given her
the
s
t
a
r
s
and the
m
o
o
n
She doesn't fear
being the fall
down
f
l
e
d
g
l
i
n
g
not when she
has parents
like
p
a
r
a
c
h
u
t
e
s
She, the girl
who has
everything
h
a
n
g
s
onto emotional words
that reveal a
s
e
c
r
e
t
that swells
like an eagre
in her
h
e
a
r
t
an ocean
overflowing
with letters that
spell
t
r
u
t
h
one can have
everything
and still have
n
o
t
h
i
n
g
important but
the nauseant
silver spoon
t
a
s
t
e
which doesn't satisfy
the need to share
her heart
she'll
t
r
a
d
e
the taste
to have
it
a
l
l
Even a fall down
fledgling
can learn to FLY on her own heart…
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
in the morning
for the sunrise
just to see it
fall
d
o
w
n
come night
She is quartering
her dreams
and false hopes
upon a ship
called
r
e
a
l
i
t
y
She, the girl
who has everything
parents like
b
i
r
d
s
regurgitating
things like
dollars & cents
cars & a house
education
a no struggle future
into her
p
o
c
k
e
t
s
Parent like undying
hearts who love
her unconditionally
giving her
a world
u
n
r
e
a
l
to most people
Parents who have
given her
the
s
t
a
r
s
and the
m
o
o
n
She doesn't fear
being the fall
down
f
l
e
d
g
l
i
n
g
not when she
has parents
like
p
a
r
a
c
h
u
t
e
s
She, the girl
who has
everything
h
a
n
g
s
onto emotional words
that reveal a
s
e
c
r
e
t
that swells
like an eagre
in her
h
e
a
r
t
an ocean
overflowing
with letters that
spell
t
r
u
t
h
one can have
everything
and still have
n
o
t
h
i
n
g
important but
the nauseant
silver spoon
t
a
s
t
e
which doesn't satisfy
the need to share
her heart
she'll
t
r
a
d
e
the taste
to have
it
a
l
l
Even a fall down
fledgling
can learn to FLY on her own heart…
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Fade
misery loves company
madnesss calls it forth
she steps backwards
and fades into darkness
dying in the same way
as the sun sinks to sleep
Copyright © 2010 L. Warren
madnesss calls it forth
she steps backwards
and fades into darkness
dying in the same way
as the sun sinks to sleep
Copyright © 2010 L. Warren
Ecstasy
I want to wander beyond
the reach of mankind
capturing rhythms of time in a jar;
tick-tock fireflies
bioluminescent emotions
born of
yesterdays,
todays,
tomorrows,
and forevers…
bioluminescent emotions
lighting the way
to that special place
a special world
so different, so untouched
a world reached only through thought,
only through shared emotion
only by the joining of
two hearts,
two minds,
two souls,
two people…
a secret world found only through love
I would die to know such a place;
If only just once...
I would die to find you
the one who can take me there…
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
the reach of mankind
capturing rhythms of time in a jar;
tick-tock fireflies
bioluminescent emotions
born of
yesterdays,
todays,
tomorrows,
and forevers…
bioluminescent emotions
lighting the way
to that special place
a special world
so different, so untouched
a world reached only through thought,
only through shared emotion
only by the joining of
two hearts,
two minds,
two souls,
two people…
a secret world found only through love
I would die to know such a place;
If only just once...
I would die to find you
the one who can take me there…
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Demonocracy
Look at all the janiform politicians
Who abuse their elected positions
Jambiya like tongues and deceitful words
To keep in check their janizary herds
When will people see the truth; they are all one and the same?
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Who abuse their elected positions
Jambiya like tongues and deceitful words
To keep in check their janizary herds
When will people see the truth; they are all one and the same?
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
A Matter of Time
Tick-tock time is the creator of change and Tick-tock time is a clever thief; a silent weaver and consumer of our mind and our life. Time swallows time, devours itself continually like Ouroboros. The first day for us will always and infinitely be our last day because all things begin in order so they can end in order. Time reminds us that just as there is a beginning and an end, there also isn't a beginning or end, because what always has been always will be, except different...this time changed and DNA is the time piece of Eternity-forever-always, growing, changing, and evolving with tick-tock time leading the way.
time
once remembered
now forgotten
initially praised,
insulted later
hopes eternal
suffering longer
only change is certain
up and down go together
just as
right and wrong
dark and light
day and night
good and evil
male and female
alive and dead
it is only a matter of time
wait awhile longer
only change is certain
rocks of ages
deserts only
sand and mountains all the same
monuments erected
ruins now crumbled
from dirt return to dirt
man lives to die
only to live again
ashes to ashes
dust to dust
birth to death
death to birth
all over again
only change is certain
in an eternal life
tick-tock time reminds us all
it is only a matter of time
wait a little longer
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
time
once remembered
now forgotten
initially praised,
insulted later
hopes eternal
suffering longer
only change is certain
up and down go together
just as
right and wrong
dark and light
day and night
good and evil
male and female
alive and dead
it is only a matter of time
wait awhile longer
only change is certain
rocks of ages
deserts only
sand and mountains all the same
monuments erected
ruins now crumbled
from dirt return to dirt
man lives to die
only to live again
ashes to ashes
dust to dust
birth to death
death to birth
all over again
only change is certain
in an eternal life
tick-tock time reminds us all
it is only a matter of time
wait a little longer
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Compendium
the message wasn't
subliminal
i don't think you can hear it
and neuro-sensoric baryecoia
is an illness
however my message was
written so
i don't think you can see it
and Onchocerciasis
is contagious
i guess i won't get
too close…
besides
you have a half mile
smile that
cannot go the
full distance
…not unlike your heart
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
subliminal
i don't think you can hear it
and neuro-sensoric baryecoia
is an illness
however my message was
written so
i don't think you can see it
and Onchocerciasis
is contagious
i guess i won't get
too close…
besides
you have a half mile
smile that
cannot go the
full distance
…not unlike your heart
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Broken Shell
A five year old girl
searching for shells
with her mother
along the Florida Tide line
reaches down and finds
the perfect one
it was the right color
the right shape
size,
it was beautiful to her eyes
beaming she ran to show her mother
who took one look
and told her to through it back
it had a chip
it had a crack
it wasn't perfect
not suitable for the collection
of already perfect shells
they had back home
those were weighted words
bearing significant meaning
coming from a mother
whose child was born imperfect
who nearly died at birth
words are strong
words become pillars
indestructible foundations
to build a life upon
the child looked sadly at her beautiful shell
and gave it back
to the sea
so no one would see
the chip
or the crack
on that beautifully imperfect shell
she had cradled so gently so lovingly in her palm
that child grew up wondering
how many would throw her back
for her imperfections
her broken shell
she paints pictures now
and writes words
to cauterize the wounds
of a hurt that runs deep
she felt so sorry for that shell
as she still feels sorry for it now
the same way she feels sorry
for herself today
see me
see me
see me
she pleads
hoping others
will SEE her
NOT FLAWS
the beauty is truly in the imperfections
it wasn't her mother's fault
she just didn't
think about the implications of what
she said…
or how her child would
receive the words
I have a collection
of beautifully
imperfect shells
in a jar by the window
because I love them…
all imperfectly perfect, just the way they are
individual and unique
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
searching for shells
with her mother
along the Florida Tide line
reaches down and finds
the perfect one
it was the right color
the right shape
size,
it was beautiful to her eyes
beaming she ran to show her mother
who took one look
and told her to through it back
it had a chip
it had a crack
it wasn't perfect
not suitable for the collection
of already perfect shells
they had back home
those were weighted words
bearing significant meaning
coming from a mother
whose child was born imperfect
who nearly died at birth
words are strong
words become pillars
indestructible foundations
to build a life upon
the child looked sadly at her beautiful shell
and gave it back
to the sea
so no one would see
the chip
or the crack
on that beautifully imperfect shell
she had cradled so gently so lovingly in her palm
that child grew up wondering
how many would throw her back
for her imperfections
her broken shell
she paints pictures now
and writes words
to cauterize the wounds
of a hurt that runs deep
she felt so sorry for that shell
as she still feels sorry for it now
the same way she feels sorry
for herself today
see me
see me
see me
she pleads
hoping others
will SEE her
NOT FLAWS
the beauty is truly in the imperfections
it wasn't her mother's fault
she just didn't
think about the implications of what
she said…
or how her child would
receive the words
I have a collection
of beautifully
imperfect shells
in a jar by the window
because I love them…
all imperfectly perfect, just the way they are
individual and unique
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Eternal Return Casket
Eternal body- material body
flesh and bone, a living casket
veins wrap tendons and tissue
holding together the bones: all of
which bleed, tear, break, and die
only a cage to hold tight
a stifled heartbeat and
acquired memories through time
to bind our soul inside-trapped.
Forever
some of us forget
not all of us forgot- yesterdays remembered.
Recurrence costumes Ouroboros well
In this perfected Hell;
We will do it all over again
tomorrow
next year
next life
In our Infinity, a casket like clock
cycling endlessly
The Conundrum- What’s the point?
Where is God now?
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
(Inspired by Friedrich Nietzsche, Arthur Schopenhauer, and the idea of eternal recurrence)
flesh and bone, a living casket
veins wrap tendons and tissue
holding together the bones: all of
which bleed, tear, break, and die
only a cage to hold tight
a stifled heartbeat and
acquired memories through time
to bind our soul inside-trapped.
Forever
some of us forget
not all of us forgot- yesterdays remembered.
Recurrence costumes Ouroboros well
In this perfected Hell;
We will do it all over again
tomorrow
next year
next life
In our Infinity, a casket like clock
cycling endlessly
The Conundrum- What’s the point?
Where is God now?
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
(Inspired by Friedrich Nietzsche, Arthur Schopenhauer, and the idea of eternal recurrence)
Cardonnacum No Longer
A surfeit of desire feeds
The involucre ventricles of humanity’s heart
Deep grooves running their punishing course
Scored notches-resemble counting coups
Just representational lines
Of sexscapades and material gains
Chivalry died ages ago, forever lost in time
Now thistle grows only as a weed
In our Eden-worthy of extermination
Antonio Vivaldi’s melodic birds silenced
Carduelis carduelis no longer able to
Feed upon the poisoned thistledown
Instead their innocent
Feathered bodies devoured wholly
By common flies.
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
The involucre ventricles of humanity’s heart
Deep grooves running their punishing course
Scored notches-resemble counting coups
Just representational lines
Of sexscapades and material gains
Chivalry died ages ago, forever lost in time
Now thistle grows only as a weed
In our Eden-worthy of extermination
Antonio Vivaldi’s melodic birds silenced
Carduelis carduelis no longer able to
Feed upon the poisoned thistledown
Instead their innocent
Feathered bodies devoured wholly
By common flies.
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Birds Are Not Free
Warm yellow sun-tempting rays of hope.
The sky is but a blue domed cage,
sometimes dark with strung high
stars and a crooked smile crescent moon.
The sky is the limit
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
The sky is but a blue domed cage,
sometimes dark with strung high
stars and a crooked smile crescent moon.
The sky is the limit
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Blind Heart
Oh how your words hurt me at times,
pretty little pains they are
the way they sink into my flesh
like lyrical tongues of glass
becoming the transparent
parasites in an underground river;
causing the Onchocerciasis of my heart.
Blind flowing blood sticking in still frames
movement captured in microseconds
and almost-heartbeats, yet still coursing
quickly through my capillaries for you.
My heart is blind…
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
pretty little pains they are
the way they sink into my flesh
like lyrical tongues of glass
becoming the transparent
parasites in an underground river;
causing the Onchocerciasis of my heart.
Blind flowing blood sticking in still frames
movement captured in microseconds
and almost-heartbeats, yet still coursing
quickly through my capillaries for you.
My heart is blind…
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Areion
Poseidon, Poseidon
You have captivated me since I was a child.
I have loved you and your many names always:
Enosichthon,
Seischthon,
Ennosigaios,
Neptune,
E-NE-SI-DA-O-NE,
PO-SE-DA-WO-NE
Brother of Zeus and Hades
I have loved your grace and respected your temper
feared your might and power
Tumultuous blue thundering waves against soft sand shore
Alas, I must confess to you, I love Areion, your son even more.
With thundering hooves Areion made off with me heart
and from him I shall never part.
Areion, Areion
I have loved you since I was a child.
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
You have captivated me since I was a child.
I have loved you and your many names always:
Enosichthon,
Seischthon,
Ennosigaios,
Neptune,
E-NE-SI-DA-O-NE,
PO-SE-DA-WO-NE
Brother of Zeus and Hades
I have loved your grace and respected your temper
feared your might and power
Tumultuous blue thundering waves against soft sand shore
Alas, I must confess to you, I love Areion, your son even more.
With thundering hooves Areion made off with me heart
and from him I shall never part.
Areion, Areion
I have loved you since I was a child.
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Always This Puzzle Piece
Each morning when I wake
trying to find
who I am
with the endless missing puzzle piece
fleeing me again
the sadness is intensified
that I
should always be
swimming in an ocean
that has
no isle for me
At night when I lay me down
before another day
I dream a dream of voices
that speak
but never say
leaving
just a wanting
waiting hole in me
for something to return again that
never seemed to be.
Truly blessed and complete
in life are
those who have found
that once missing puzzle piece.
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
trying to find
who I am
with the endless missing puzzle piece
fleeing me again
the sadness is intensified
that I
should always be
swimming in an ocean
that has
no isle for me
At night when I lay me down
before another day
I dream a dream of voices
that speak
but never say
leaving
just a wanting
waiting hole in me
for something to return again that
never seemed to be.
Truly blessed and complete
in life are
those who have found
that once missing puzzle piece.
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
1998
I then, the codling- not quite red,
but ripe enough to allow an older him a small bite.
Sampling tastes of the peccadillo promises bled,
so cheaply from a seton he stitched upon my heart- tight.
The tenacles of his clever lies and pretend love
caused the permanent ulosis on my heart.
Innocence lost; he ripped white feathers from a fledgling dove,
and when he had his way, had his fill he did depart-
from an unsuspecting me to an unsuspecting wife
oh, woe is youthful naivety and lessons learned
those harsh truths that cut like a knife
followed by the feelings of being burned
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
(I was 18 and believed in fairytales)
but ripe enough to allow an older him a small bite.
Sampling tastes of the peccadillo promises bled,
so cheaply from a seton he stitched upon my heart- tight.
The tenacles of his clever lies and pretend love
caused the permanent ulosis on my heart.
Innocence lost; he ripped white feathers from a fledgling dove,
and when he had his way, had his fill he did depart-
from an unsuspecting me to an unsuspecting wife
oh, woe is youthful naivety and lessons learned
those harsh truths that cut like a knife
followed by the feelings of being burned
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
(I was 18 and believed in fairytales)
Algolagnia Reversed
My lacuna chest is the result of a malloseismic heart
because of the cunning agapet who tore it apart.
The art of algedonics is very well learned,
And the consequences of love have left me badly burned.
What is love, but the definite anacrisis of the soul?
It can leave you empty- never feeling completely whole.
I felt the algolagnia reversed
when love became nothing but everything cursed.
Poikilothermic I’ve transformed
Out of a love that grew deformed.
Unforgiving of him, for the worsement of my heart
And from my love from which he chose to depart.
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
(I love old rare obscure words...and I like to play with them in poetry)
because of the cunning agapet who tore it apart.
The art of algedonics is very well learned,
And the consequences of love have left me badly burned.
What is love, but the definite anacrisis of the soul?
It can leave you empty- never feeling completely whole.
I felt the algolagnia reversed
when love became nothing but everything cursed.
Poikilothermic I’ve transformed
Out of a love that grew deformed.
Unforgiving of him, for the worsement of my heart
And from my love from which he chose to depart.
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
(I love old rare obscure words...and I like to play with them in poetry)
Built on Stilts
i feel i have been built
on stilts
like a tipsy water tower
in rough winds
filled with water
like emotions
dirty blue
5 feet 3 inches deep
about to spill
i could take a step forward
but it is easier to go
back
call me
COWARD
i can submit
to the drag
of a polar world
that looms just
beyond
the paper thin
door before me
life is a maze
a complicated maze
convincing me
no one and I mean
no one
ever finds
the true end
the end is only the
metaphor
for MEANING
What is the MEANING
of this life?
WHO AM I?
WHO ARE YOU?
WHY ARE WE HERE?
the idea that
happiness is not
always in the air
we breathe
is a suffocating
thought…
ISN'T IT?
ISN'T IT?
now it is my turn
to babble like
an inconsequential
behavior existentialist
the difference being that
i know
and
i understand
that i have fallen victim
to existential obstacles…
despair
angst
alienation
absurdity
and
the worst of all…
BOREDOM
acceptance of situations
beyond my control
allows me to realize
i am no better
than anyone else…
even while i pursue
my own life meaning
as i try to live passionately
and sincerely
i know what i am not…
unlike so many people
and
i accept what i am
unlike so many people
and like so many people
i still search for meaning
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
on stilts
like a tipsy water tower
in rough winds
filled with water
like emotions
dirty blue
5 feet 3 inches deep
about to spill
i could take a step forward
but it is easier to go
back
call me
COWARD
i can submit
to the drag
of a polar world
that looms just
beyond
the paper thin
door before me
life is a maze
a complicated maze
convincing me
no one and I mean
no one
ever finds
the true end
the end is only the
metaphor
for MEANING
What is the MEANING
of this life?
WHO AM I?
WHO ARE YOU?
WHY ARE WE HERE?
the idea that
happiness is not
always in the air
we breathe
is a suffocating
thought…
ISN'T IT?
ISN'T IT?
now it is my turn
to babble like
an inconsequential
behavior existentialist
the difference being that
i know
and
i understand
that i have fallen victim
to existential obstacles…
despair
angst
alienation
absurdity
and
the worst of all…
BOREDOM
acceptance of situations
beyond my control
allows me to realize
i am no better
than anyone else…
even while i pursue
my own life meaning
as i try to live passionately
and sincerely
i know what i am not…
unlike so many people
and
i accept what i am
unlike so many people
and like so many people
i still search for meaning
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Tell It to The Paper
I have tried to leave the weeping to the willows
but I shed my tears anyway.
I simply cannot muster the strength
it takes to dam them up,
hold them back,
or fortify them any longer.
My heart screams at me,
not with words
but with raw emotions,
"TELL IT TO THE PAPER!"
So I tell it to the paper,
for I cannot speak out loud
the words my emotions become.
I fear they could drown in the sound of my voice,
lost in translation
and nobody is listening to me anyway.
So I tell it to the paper,
sometimes writing in words,
sometimes painting in pictures.
However I choose to express myself
the paper is always eager for my touch.
Sometimes I communication with it gently,
sometimes roughly,
sometimes I am dirty,
or silly,
sometimes I laugh with it,
and often times I cry.
The tears I shed are lovingly absorbed,
soaked up,
dried up
and become secrets
locked safely away,
secrets that just the paper and I share.
The paper has become my best lover.
It lies there calmly absorbing my love
and accepting me for everything I am
and everything I am not,
like no other lover has before.
It cradles my tormenting emotions
in a tender and forgiving embrace…like no other lover.
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
but I shed my tears anyway.
I simply cannot muster the strength
it takes to dam them up,
hold them back,
or fortify them any longer.
My heart screams at me,
not with words
but with raw emotions,
"TELL IT TO THE PAPER!"
So I tell it to the paper,
for I cannot speak out loud
the words my emotions become.
I fear they could drown in the sound of my voice,
lost in translation
and nobody is listening to me anyway.
So I tell it to the paper,
sometimes writing in words,
sometimes painting in pictures.
However I choose to express myself
the paper is always eager for my touch.
Sometimes I communication with it gently,
sometimes roughly,
sometimes I am dirty,
or silly,
sometimes I laugh with it,
and often times I cry.
The tears I shed are lovingly absorbed,
soaked up,
dried up
and become secrets
locked safely away,
secrets that just the paper and I share.
The paper has become my best lover.
It lies there calmly absorbing my love
and accepting me for everything I am
and everything I am not,
like no other lover has before.
It cradles my tormenting emotions
in a tender and forgiving embrace…like no other lover.
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Storm is Over
The night storm, over at last
the sky becomes starry and cloudless
I noticed the birth of dawn
slowly crowning the horizon.
Daylight flooded the sky
I can consider it now...
the birth of something new
the night storm over at last
the nightmare finished
my new beginning
starting over
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
the sky becomes starry and cloudless
I noticed the birth of dawn
slowly crowning the horizon.
Daylight flooded the sky
I can consider it now...
the birth of something new
the night storm over at last
the nightmare finished
my new beginning
starting over
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Marabuntas Marching
They come from the darker corners;
from the shadows of the streets.
The places where the darker realities
of humanity creeps.
The marabuntas marching;
with a penchant for violence
of infamous renown.
Membership ensures a life
for them to own.
The marabuntas marching;
while speaking a portmanteau language,
derived from Spanish and English.
A perfected and well-developed language system they relish.
The marabuntas marching;
organizing themselves in groups,
called cliques and fractions.
Each with a certain fatal attraction.
The marabuntas marching;
with intent to recruit our young.
An organized hierarchy,
hell-bent on controlled chaos and structured
Anarchy.
The marabuntas marching;
and feeding off the easily influenced,
who become pawns of their merciless way.
More cold bodies for them to throw-away.
The marabuntas marching;
onward with their own method of governance,
with their own methods of punishment-
a horrific way of maiming,
by skills acquired by guerilla-military training.
The marabuntas marching;
and reminding us all of their presence,
with their well established pecking order.
Throwing signs, stacking, and check-courting,
always their way of retorting.
The marabuntas marching;
recruiting, trafficking, contract killing, selling,
jumping, harassing, organizing, planning,
and ever expanding.
You had better "trucha"
Here comes Mara Salvatrucha………
To take yet another child from me today
Oscar, Felipe, Tom, Juan, Jose, Miquel, Troy, Sam, Carlos,
Veronica, Jesus, Jasmine, Darnell, Sharley, T.J. Alex,
Fernando, Dante……..
Here comes Mara Salvatrucha
To take another child from me today;
to take another child from us today.
How many children of ours will be gone tomorrow?
Next week? Next Year?
Much too many, I fear….
Here comes Mara Salvatrucha
to falsely promise our children a good life,
one wrought with strife.
Here comes Mara Salvatrucha
to take another life
And the marabuntas go marching on by………………….
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
(this is a poem inspired by the life circumstances many of my students have found themselves in)
from the shadows of the streets.
The places where the darker realities
of humanity creeps.
The marabuntas marching;
with a penchant for violence
of infamous renown.
Membership ensures a life
for them to own.
The marabuntas marching;
while speaking a portmanteau language,
derived from Spanish and English.
A perfected and well-developed language system they relish.
The marabuntas marching;
organizing themselves in groups,
called cliques and fractions.
Each with a certain fatal attraction.
The marabuntas marching;
with intent to recruit our young.
An organized hierarchy,
hell-bent on controlled chaos and structured
Anarchy.
The marabuntas marching;
and feeding off the easily influenced,
who become pawns of their merciless way.
More cold bodies for them to throw-away.
The marabuntas marching;
onward with their own method of governance,
with their own methods of punishment-
a horrific way of maiming,
by skills acquired by guerilla-military training.
The marabuntas marching;
and reminding us all of their presence,
with their well established pecking order.
Throwing signs, stacking, and check-courting,
always their way of retorting.
The marabuntas marching;
recruiting, trafficking, contract killing, selling,
jumping, harassing, organizing, planning,
and ever expanding.
You had better "trucha"
Here comes Mara Salvatrucha………
To take yet another child from me today
Oscar, Felipe, Tom, Juan, Jose, Miquel, Troy, Sam, Carlos,
Veronica, Jesus, Jasmine, Darnell, Sharley, T.J. Alex,
Fernando, Dante……..
Here comes Mara Salvatrucha
To take another child from me today;
to take another child from us today.
How many children of ours will be gone tomorrow?
Next week? Next Year?
Much too many, I fear….
Here comes Mara Salvatrucha
to falsely promise our children a good life,
one wrought with strife.
Here comes Mara Salvatrucha
to take another life
And the marabuntas go marching on by………………….
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
(this is a poem inspired by the life circumstances many of my students have found themselves in)
The Mind of Eden
Gestational Observation
your are reading my writing-seeing my thinking
a thought
from my head
can become a seed I plant deep
in your mind
I step back
watch it grow
watch it grow…
a piece of myself grows in you
deep
deep
Rooted deep…
our thoughts are but pieces grown from
the seeds of each other
didn't you know?
did you not know?
we are all a part of each other, linked infinitely forever
grown in the mind of Eden
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
your are reading my writing-seeing my thinking
a thought
from my head
can become a seed I plant deep
in your mind
I step back
watch it grow
watch it grow…
a piece of myself grows in you
deep
deep
Rooted deep…
our thoughts are but pieces grown from
the seeds of each other
didn't you know?
did you not know?
we are all a part of each other, linked infinitely forever
grown in the mind of Eden
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Time is Forever's Sepulchre
Time is Forever's Sepulchre
Everything is muted and doesn't seem as it was.
Every hour is so very different, than
the one that's long spent and past.
I am so easily misunderstood,
even by those who know me best, even by myself.
I ask too many questions that cannot be answered.
Simply because the ones that can be, bore me.
We begin as a grain of sand in an oyster.
Years go by, each stirring patterns
a layer around the crude partical of sand
More years go by, experience gained,
a measurement of time lived.
Making us what we are.
The envelope of time is merely our oyster shell.
Time plans our hours, days, and even years.
Time has set our limitations to dying:
because we will never have all the minutes,
or live by all the moments,
because we will never have all the time.
I know the world is rushing by me.
Everyone is scurrying like mice in a cat's cage,
trying to beat every minute by seconds.
I can't keep up, I can't breathe,
and I have no more secrets to hide.
The quicksilver web of time
runs brilliantly through my open fingers.
Metallic drops of rolling light
coming together, becoming a glimmering coat upon
transparent ordinary hours.
I continue contemplating time.
I can only guess that time is the measurement
of waves of motion.
Like hands revolving around an infinite galaxy ocean.
Time sets our thoughts a drift.
Time reminds us we are human.
It reminds us we are mortal.
But if time is the oyster shell,
then shouldn't the pearl be the soul?
If souls never die are we truly mortal?
Thoughts are a lot like time,
both roam like the sea.
I understand drifting and dreaming to be the same thing.
But please don't ask me why.
Because I won't ever know.
Contemplate it yourself.
Gifted are those blessed with thought,
and those capable of thinking.
Time often makes me feel
as though I am the elegy the poet left unfinished
Sometimes I wonder where I've been
and where I want to go.
I lie awake and think, think, think,
but I never seem to know.
My autonomic soul
resides within a revolving clock.
Around and around it goes,
Tick-tock-Tick-tock,
where will it stop?
Even I don't know.
A soul is but a transmutation of Primal Fire
molded from an experience developed
by an ever ticking time.
If time is an endless measure,
what then is forever?
It must be faceless and free.
It must be a great nothing and a great everything-altogether.
No edges. Forever is like no other thing
Yet still I contemplate....
meditating and reliving
that very hour, that very eve
When I first recognized that I would never
be able to ever figure it all out.
I think about many things always.
If there be such a thing as soul,
then truly we are not born without an end.
Infinitely we continue.
On and on.
Endlessly.
This life to the next.
If this is not the case
I shed tears for those who do waste
such precious years.
Time
We cannot best its relentless force.
For seconds, then hours,
then days, and years
they all seem to blend.
Time just like the sea,
will forever be
a virgin to the frustrations of captivity.
Time is forever's sepulchre.
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Everything is muted and doesn't seem as it was.
Every hour is so very different, than
the one that's long spent and past.
I am so easily misunderstood,
even by those who know me best, even by myself.
I ask too many questions that cannot be answered.
Simply because the ones that can be, bore me.
We begin as a grain of sand in an oyster.
Years go by, each stirring patterns
a layer around the crude partical of sand
More years go by, experience gained,
a measurement of time lived.
Making us what we are.
The envelope of time is merely our oyster shell.
Time plans our hours, days, and even years.
Time has set our limitations to dying:
because we will never have all the minutes,
or live by all the moments,
because we will never have all the time.
I know the world is rushing by me.
Everyone is scurrying like mice in a cat's cage,
trying to beat every minute by seconds.
I can't keep up, I can't breathe,
and I have no more secrets to hide.
The quicksilver web of time
runs brilliantly through my open fingers.
Metallic drops of rolling light
coming together, becoming a glimmering coat upon
transparent ordinary hours.
I continue contemplating time.
I can only guess that time is the measurement
of waves of motion.
Like hands revolving around an infinite galaxy ocean.
Time sets our thoughts a drift.
Time reminds us we are human.
It reminds us we are mortal.
But if time is the oyster shell,
then shouldn't the pearl be the soul?
If souls never die are we truly mortal?
Thoughts are a lot like time,
both roam like the sea.
I understand drifting and dreaming to be the same thing.
But please don't ask me why.
Because I won't ever know.
Contemplate it yourself.
Gifted are those blessed with thought,
and those capable of thinking.
Time often makes me feel
as though I am the elegy the poet left unfinished
Sometimes I wonder where I've been
and where I want to go.
I lie awake and think, think, think,
but I never seem to know.
My autonomic soul
resides within a revolving clock.
Around and around it goes,
Tick-tock-Tick-tock,
where will it stop?
Even I don't know.
A soul is but a transmutation of Primal Fire
molded from an experience developed
by an ever ticking time.
If time is an endless measure,
what then is forever?
It must be faceless and free.
It must be a great nothing and a great everything-altogether.
No edges. Forever is like no other thing
Yet still I contemplate....
meditating and reliving
that very hour, that very eve
When I first recognized that I would never
be able to ever figure it all out.
I think about many things always.
If there be such a thing as soul,
then truly we are not born without an end.
Infinitely we continue.
On and on.
Endlessly.
This life to the next.
If this is not the case
I shed tears for those who do waste
such precious years.
Time
We cannot best its relentless force.
For seconds, then hours,
then days, and years
they all seem to blend.
Time just like the sea,
will forever be
a virgin to the frustrations of captivity.
Time is forever's sepulchre.
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Triangles of Frau Lou
Oh, Louise Andreas-Salome did you put the trios in ménage trios?
Of you, of your mind, I am so in awe.
You the intellectual whore so misunderstood.
Oh Frau Lou to be like you, I wish I could!
What becomes of the female mind
when intelligence is to become so entwined?
A dangerous woman does it make?
Even Freud feared to be caught in your wake.
Oh, Frau Lou a lover of many men of great mind,
holder of a youthful beauty so pure it could blind.
The triangles of Frau Lou could once dangerously bind,
many a men of great mind.
Hendrik Gillot, Paul Ree, Friedrich Nietzsche, Frederick Carl Andreas,
George Ledebour, Frank Wedekind, Arthur Schnitzler,
Rainer Maria Rilke, Paul Bjerre, Vietor Tausk,
Adler, Carl Jung, Arnold Zweig,
Friedrich Pineless, Sigmund Freud and so many more,
fell under the charm of you, the intellectual whore.
Some loved you, some lusted after you.
Some did neither of both, but all respected you.
You, a keen observer of human nature with an indifference to moral convention,
with a burning desire for intellectual ascension.
You, whose sexuality and intellectual pursuits struggled in suspension.
Oh, Frau Lou your prose, your writings continue to hold my attention.
Louise Andreas-Salome, you found a brother hidden in every man,
only because you wished to live like a man.
A modern day tomboy of your time the women sought to ban.
You, a mastermind of female intelligence with a brilliant plan.
Frau Lou with your Pythagorean friendships and your insatiable intellectual curiosity
challenged the gender roles of your day with such ferocity.
You were Friedrich Nietzsche's twin-flame and most painful atrocity.
You played a role in turning his mind into a mental monstrosity.
Oh, Frau Lou a lover of many men of great mind,
holder of a youthful beauty so pure it could blind.
The triangles of Frau Lou could once dangerously bind,
many a men of great mind.
A Hedda Gabler in living skin,
the two of you so much a kin.
The similarities seen even by Ibsen,
when he made his famous female protagonist your near twin.
Louise Andreas-Salome did you every psychoanalyze yourself?
Where you happy with yourself?
Did you ever find pride and contentment with yourself?
I have found the one great thing missing in your many works was yourself.
You once said, "Two are at one only when they remain two."
Did you truly believe this to be true?
Your marriage unconsummated was not so unlike your brilliant works so devoid of you.
The distance between you and all you loved was a truth that was long over due.
I couldn't help but take notice of your unspoken hurt.
You had empathy for others you would not subvert.
Yet you had an inability to recognize your own hurt,
your own loneliness, your own pain, to yourself you were inert.
Pain is a pleasurable part of life,
a necessary liberating strife.
You knew this well because you studied it with your very own life,
you lived your life with this strife.
Did you ever truly love at all?
Your detailed writings on sex and sexuality could enthrall,
but sex is just sex without love after all.
Were you never so lucky to ever have known true love at all?
Yes, but of course, you were your Romeo Rainer's moonlight,
and the two of you made up for everything there wasn't time for in one night.
Fourteen years your junior, oh, Frau Lou how reality does bite.
Your passionate love for him, though not meant to last, did burn bright.
Miss Louise Andreas- Salome, Miss Frau Lou
Truth tells me the triangles bound only you,
within time, within your mind, and your soul, you were bound by you,
within the triangles belonging to Frau Lou.
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Of you, of your mind, I am so in awe.
You the intellectual whore so misunderstood.
Oh Frau Lou to be like you, I wish I could!
What becomes of the female mind
when intelligence is to become so entwined?
A dangerous woman does it make?
Even Freud feared to be caught in your wake.
Oh, Frau Lou a lover of many men of great mind,
holder of a youthful beauty so pure it could blind.
The triangles of Frau Lou could once dangerously bind,
many a men of great mind.
Hendrik Gillot, Paul Ree, Friedrich Nietzsche, Frederick Carl Andreas,
George Ledebour, Frank Wedekind, Arthur Schnitzler,
Rainer Maria Rilke, Paul Bjerre, Vietor Tausk,
Adler, Carl Jung, Arnold Zweig,
Friedrich Pineless, Sigmund Freud and so many more,
fell under the charm of you, the intellectual whore.
Some loved you, some lusted after you.
Some did neither of both, but all respected you.
You, a keen observer of human nature with an indifference to moral convention,
with a burning desire for intellectual ascension.
You, whose sexuality and intellectual pursuits struggled in suspension.
Oh, Frau Lou your prose, your writings continue to hold my attention.
Louise Andreas-Salome, you found a brother hidden in every man,
only because you wished to live like a man.
A modern day tomboy of your time the women sought to ban.
You, a mastermind of female intelligence with a brilliant plan.
Frau Lou with your Pythagorean friendships and your insatiable intellectual curiosity
challenged the gender roles of your day with such ferocity.
You were Friedrich Nietzsche's twin-flame and most painful atrocity.
You played a role in turning his mind into a mental monstrosity.
Oh, Frau Lou a lover of many men of great mind,
holder of a youthful beauty so pure it could blind.
The triangles of Frau Lou could once dangerously bind,
many a men of great mind.
A Hedda Gabler in living skin,
the two of you so much a kin.
The similarities seen even by Ibsen,
when he made his famous female protagonist your near twin.
Louise Andreas-Salome did you every psychoanalyze yourself?
Where you happy with yourself?
Did you ever find pride and contentment with yourself?
I have found the one great thing missing in your many works was yourself.
You once said, "Two are at one only when they remain two."
Did you truly believe this to be true?
Your marriage unconsummated was not so unlike your brilliant works so devoid of you.
The distance between you and all you loved was a truth that was long over due.
I couldn't help but take notice of your unspoken hurt.
You had empathy for others you would not subvert.
Yet you had an inability to recognize your own hurt,
your own loneliness, your own pain, to yourself you were inert.
Pain is a pleasurable part of life,
a necessary liberating strife.
You knew this well because you studied it with your very own life,
you lived your life with this strife.
Did you ever truly love at all?
Your detailed writings on sex and sexuality could enthrall,
but sex is just sex without love after all.
Were you never so lucky to ever have known true love at all?
Yes, but of course, you were your Romeo Rainer's moonlight,
and the two of you made up for everything there wasn't time for in one night.
Fourteen years your junior, oh, Frau Lou how reality does bite.
Your passionate love for him, though not meant to last, did burn bright.
Miss Louise Andreas- Salome, Miss Frau Lou
Truth tells me the triangles bound only you,
within time, within your mind, and your soul, you were bound by you,
within the triangles belonging to Frau Lou.
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Trapped
My mind is trapped in between
parallel mirrors and a
kaleidoscope unreality,
those funhouse reflections
echo on endlessly.
I want to scream
but the sound
suffocated in a thought,
has my soul trapped
in a looking glass
no place to hide.
Time, Sir Chronos
he bears down on
me swiftly,
my eyes blinded
by truth
see me running
through the endless
halls of my mind.
The mirrors
dissolve my dreams
into infinity
forever out of reach
just like the stars
in the satellite
night sky.
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
parallel mirrors and a
kaleidoscope unreality,
those funhouse reflections
echo on endlessly.
I want to scream
but the sound
suffocated in a thought,
has my soul trapped
in a looking glass
no place to hide.
Time, Sir Chronos
he bears down on
me swiftly,
my eyes blinded
by truth
see me running
through the endless
halls of my mind.
The mirrors
dissolve my dreams
into infinity
forever out of reach
just like the stars
in the satellite
night sky.
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Trick of the Moon
i moved
as the silence filled
the oppressive empty night
feeling the
hithering-thithering
torments of
a shadow
intercepting the moon
under clouded shade
of indecisive love
and
prosiac fears
as a
trick of the moon
cojured up
nightingales tangled
on a silken thread
of guilt
no lover to lure back
in the moonlight
no comfort
just the result of
the shadowed moon
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
as the silence filled
the oppressive empty night
feeling the
hithering-thithering
torments of
a shadow
intercepting the moon
under clouded shade
of indecisive love
and
prosiac fears
as a
trick of the moon
cojured up
nightingales tangled
on a silken thread
of guilt
no lover to lure back
in the moonlight
no comfort
just the result of
the shadowed moon
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Love Isn’t
1. Love: word and emotion. Deceptive. Needed-
as air is to lungs. Natural instinct did this,
a caudate nucleus and dopamine. The flesh houses
of humankind, incurable. And me- pining
to be loved. Pining for love. I settled,
confusing lust for love. A broken heart,
a suffocating reality with punishing tears.
I tried to grow cold against love.
Only the need, like a drug, is overwhelming.
2. Lusting, just to love. Not patient enough
to wait for him, the right one.
No directions to find my way home,
that place where my heart is.
I fell apart, rebuilt walls, turned
into ice, destroyed favored dreams-freed myself.
But not really.
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
as air is to lungs. Natural instinct did this,
a caudate nucleus and dopamine. The flesh houses
of humankind, incurable. And me- pining
to be loved. Pining for love. I settled,
confusing lust for love. A broken heart,
a suffocating reality with punishing tears.
I tried to grow cold against love.
Only the need, like a drug, is overwhelming.
2. Lusting, just to love. Not patient enough
to wait for him, the right one.
No directions to find my way home,
that place where my heart is.
I fell apart, rebuilt walls, turned
into ice, destroyed favored dreams-freed myself.
But not really.
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Vernicle Void
Quarender devoured whole, every last succulent crumb
Racemation of sins leave our humanity numb
Sacristies found empty with not a single remnant of any God
Tabernacles for show, just part of the religious façade
Unipotent and exact will be humanity’s collapse
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
(I like to use rare and obscure words, this is an ABC Poem where each line begins with the letters of the alphabet in order)
Racemation of sins leave our humanity numb
Sacristies found empty with not a single remnant of any God
Tabernacles for show, just part of the religious façade
Unipotent and exact will be humanity’s collapse
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
(I like to use rare and obscure words, this is an ABC Poem where each line begins with the letters of the alphabet in order)
Want to Forget
wolves born of contemplation
nipping at the heels of emotions,
emotions saturated in
hurt and shades of blue
wolves chasing feelings from heart to mind,
cruelly
whereupon i shall dwell on truth,
a truth that stings my mind
i want to forget
but thinking is a dangerous sort of
torment
i want to forget
ease the torment
of thinking born from
emotions and feelings
i want to grow numb…
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
nipping at the heels of emotions,
emotions saturated in
hurt and shades of blue
wolves chasing feelings from heart to mind,
cruelly
whereupon i shall dwell on truth,
a truth that stings my mind
i want to forget
but thinking is a dangerous sort of
torment
i want to forget
ease the torment
of thinking born from
emotions and feelings
i want to grow numb…
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
White Night
Seven: Twenty Five am
cold round face-harsh
bluntly confronting and
loudly whispering softly
a sound
tick-tock, tick-tock
an uncomfortable in my face
reminder- time flies
cold round face-haunts
endlessly while
frowning magisterially
an upside down smile
angularly bent at
Seven: Twenty Five pm
a certain suspended sharpness
of a numbered eternity
hollers in a loud
tick-tock like silence
quiet but never really-
just continuous,
alluding to a secret,
an unforeseen philosophic dilemma
not yet recognized
only just like an experience
almost hallucinatory in
its intensity
Sleepless nights are
not pretty unless described
by dead poets in
a White Night way
cold round face-time
frowning magisterially again
Seven: Twenty Five am
another sleepless night
to start my day
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
cold round face-harsh
bluntly confronting and
loudly whispering softly
a sound
tick-tock, tick-tock
an uncomfortable in my face
reminder- time flies
cold round face-haunts
endlessly while
frowning magisterially
an upside down smile
angularly bent at
Seven: Twenty Five pm
a certain suspended sharpness
of a numbered eternity
hollers in a loud
tick-tock like silence
quiet but never really-
just continuous,
alluding to a secret,
an unforeseen philosophic dilemma
not yet recognized
only just like an experience
almost hallucinatory in
its intensity
Sleepless nights are
not pretty unless described
by dead poets in
a White Night way
cold round face-time
frowning magisterially again
Seven: Twenty Five am
another sleepless night
to start my day
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
Woven Truths In Lost Words
Abb’s pulled tight across a heartbeat loom
Baldaquin weavings hide the faith I lost in love and men
Cacotopia threads are the truth of my reality
Damoiseau contrived cloak he wore-never to be a knight
Ecarlate ecbatic only fully intended and meaningful in red
Factitious is love and hate just exhausting chemical emotions
Galimatias in life as I am in love
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
(I wanted to use obscure words in a Alphabet poem-where each line begins with the letters of the alphabet in order)
Baldaquin weavings hide the faith I lost in love and men
Cacotopia threads are the truth of my reality
Damoiseau contrived cloak he wore-never to be a knight
Ecarlate ecbatic only fully intended and meaningful in red
Factitious is love and hate just exhausting chemical emotions
Galimatias in life as I am in love
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
(I wanted to use obscure words in a Alphabet poem-where each line begins with the letters of the alphabet in order)
Warring Heart
The horses at dawn: with thrown heels
whinny and buck all the while the sun
displays a red sky morning- its angry splendor
swallows my image- a ghost like grey nimbus.
Rays of red, yellow, orange like stabbing lances
a hurt so bright, I shut my eyes and
prepare for the crack of thunder
those sharp hooves pounding fiercely.
I am fighting a losing battle against
my warring heart, I can’t breathe.
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
(All Work is Copyrighted)
whinny and buck all the while the sun
displays a red sky morning- its angry splendor
swallows my image- a ghost like grey nimbus.
Rays of red, yellow, orange like stabbing lances
a hurt so bright, I shut my eyes and
prepare for the crack of thunder
those sharp hooves pounding fiercely.
I am fighting a losing battle against
my warring heart, I can’t breathe.
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
(All Work is Copyrighted)
Click on the image to see a larger version...Peotry reads,
Common Dandelion
I want to be free like a weed-
A floret from taraxacum parachute ball released to breeze
A bright future nourished from a promising seed,
Land where I want to, taking root where I please.
This is the way I would like my life to be-
No worries not troubles, just a wild weed
In the moment living free
No constraints and my own creed.
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