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Traveler Jan 2021
We exist in a worried ideology
Clinging to a state of safety
Our understanding is fabricated
Shaped to comfortably fit
These simple consciousness
Even death we camouflaged in bliss

Few awake
to attempt to defined these miseries
To glimpses the quantum mechanics
of it all
Forsaking blind faith
in exchange for the unlimited cosmic
Traveler Tim
Look there, you see it? Its a full moon hanging above a lousy *******, and your moans go unnoticed like boring movie scenes.
Kamasutra your name you say? Well, I just assumed you were not that at all.
I see you more like spilled cold coffee looking on enviously at tea leaves holding a boring straight *** conversation in a purple rain teepee.

Somewhere beneath a bed of stars and a sliver skyline falling in free form with a tribe of features, floating down no matter the weather, but to where?
Who knows? But I did notice my mind take the scenic route.
Because the GPS speaks a dangerous language.
So I take chances and flip a coin, *** up heads down
I beat the odds and win, but what?
Who knows? But moving on right pass the earth’s after birth
and on to the next one, on to the next one
On to the blueprint to why freedom never rings it just sings
In a monotone *** position of undressed flesh
and out of the reach of our dumbfound imagination barely
and our hearts that are broke like a lack of money and barely beating,
and our breath that is filled with smoke and barely breathing.
Like chronic asthma in a bent over backward dream taking it up the, who knows?
But I Do like wearing lipstick and catching ****** needs off guard,
as ******* take a life of it’s on. Doing it with or without me
I use to being *******. I grew up in a broken home, America where u at?
With your newly hidden slavery the same thing just different cotton.
They assign jobs to us our children to the state we live to work not work to live.
We do the same thing but make different mistakes.
And two days is not enough to recover from five, this **** is a disgrace
Oh beautiful for spacious skies, where at, who knows?
What I am trying to tell you is heaven has basic desires and a low self-esteem.
Just ask Natureboy the Christ, no ask him can he swim on land since he can walk on the sea.
and what I said got some of you bothered feeling some kind of way
But what would Jesus say if he was here? Forgive her father she knows not what she says.
Maybe Jesus is wrong I know exactly what I do. I am a pusher to this poem.
I will make it snort a ******* line that exactly what I would do.
Burn pictures on the conscious mind fire’s awake now making something better out of itself.
Just like a group of words, no one never thought about grouping together. No, really I don’t know when too much is too much, so I am liable to say things like does God like his face? Then why
doesn’t he show it
Would we judge him bully him if we saw it? Holy ****** baby feet Batman I can’t trust the alphabet or vegetables
This unsustainable way of living and that the government did not take part in those special fireworks done on
9/11. Body parts everywhere and since some time has passed I want to know does anyone care?
But who am I? But a beast in smallness with a mean left hook and have the things the world believe in
Really got me shook. I cannot walk around with the believes and definitions that are not mine.
My beliefs don’t weigh anything so I am not weighed down mentally or emotionally
I listen to the language of the earth because all the other languages are brittle
Nature all about cooperation, taking the good with the bad, and that's fine but you know what is not?
It is how religion aggravates me. I know you believe in God but does he believe in you?
No, because if he did he wouldn’t test you and still you are unable to see the acceptance you seek really come from you.
The Illuminati taught me that, but you know what is really truly interesting?
It is how Hall and Oats is white and of course angel ****.
And again I need to be careful what I say because I will have folks looking at me in the wrong way.
Wishing I would die and burn in heaven, well luckily for them I stay suicidal and I thought up about nine and eleven
Ways I can end it tonight. In death, my mind would be gone and that’s alright.
I will still create frighten poems. I will make my ghost write.
But as we all know dying is not an option and as we can see no fear just caution.
And I stay humble all day every day because I was told having too much pride that is for those who are gay, and happy I am not. I want to see the government put to a stop
A world with no freaking cops, the elite on the bottom and the less fortunate on top.
And my most random camouflaged thoughts open up the eyes of the senile so that they can see now.
What they could not.
A Spoken Word Piece With A Lot Of Passion and Random Thoughts Link Together.
Isaac Aug 2018
No poem perfect.

  Each word hand-picked.

    Value camouflaged by defect

      Won't be spotted without respect.
Written 7 August 2018
Zeeshan Aug 2017
the love he needed,
the gloss of success he craved,
it was nothing but a masquerade…

blinded by the laminated desires,
of the mockery camouflaged as love,
he fell for a complete charade.

foolish he was to believe the travesty,
that brought upon endless misery,
he craved the love all too glossy to be real.

mockery or parody, perhaps,
he was a *******,
fell in love with misery.
Barkley Layne Nov 2014
You cannot hide,
It will find you.
It is not meant to be camouflaged,
Rather avoided by those who claim 
They are innocent.
It is not what you have done or
What you will do;
It is what you failed to prevent.
Just a poem for those who do not help the weak or stick up for those who need it more

— The End —