wherever men gather
there is the hierarchy of deceit there are those that know those that think they know and the sucker who's the **** of the joke wherever men gather there is the hierarchy of the beast there are those that rule those that think they're in charge and those who shelter in the shadow of all of the above wherever men gather there is a code wherever men gather high or low never to tell the secrets they all know
these are my coward shoes
we have walked many a mile leaving trouble behind unafraid to lose they are comfortable and warm with a slight smell of deceit to be a coward you lie keeping your happy feet
What breaks my heart the most Isn't the abuse, It isn't the lies, or the Gaslighting, No, It's probably the fact That you'll never see us The way I did. We could never have been Because you never Ever Wanted it to be.
You saw me as a stranger, when I thought we were family.
Some things I will not say
I will not form those words Lest they be heard Lest they be believed and the truth of self be known. No, some things I will not say I'll keep their silence Keep my distance and stay quiet safe on this side of my deceit.
self deceit is a powerful thing
Long live the men
battered and opressed Long live the King old, frail and dying. Hail to the Queen talked to by the keen Bless all the women whose knees both bent. By my Royal decree Of chaos and glee Let all ye be free From this broken dream.
I fell for love
For every honey-dripping word Leaving your sweet lips Lips red like cherries Sweet and gentle upon touch Taking me to the gates of paradise I fell for your intimacy For your fingers that run down my chest For the warmth of your body on my own My heartbeat jumps and raises Stunned by a beautiful smile Pounding against the merits of my chest I took the bate, I called you my own Mistaking my worth and significance As I’m just a toy, next to your beloved
One of my older works. I hope you’ll enjoy it!
Itsy bitsy spider
crawling in deceit along came the truth and stomped it with its feet Down came the shoe and squashed it’s organs out splat like a web of lies it’s bits all about
If you appreciated this poem
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Fight fire with water
Not with fire Who would do that? Apart from those investing in ashes Reaping from rapes Taking from trauma Gaining from guns Winning from wars Paying the ferryman under the table Who would do that?
Listening to the radio
Comfort's embrace is
false and choking. The masses gag in their sleep, subdued by its silken constraints.
Decoupled from my conscience of subjective discernment
The necessity for personal authority over impulse Vs an instantly gratifying road to distraction Journey of wilful blindness Consequential destination deferred But upon arrival lies the choices To decouple, To adjourn Or to confront the demons towards which my back I have turned Self-romanticised truths to whom before I have spoken Yet despite a colourful history our personal promises lay broken Under the rug Etched into the bottom of a bottle A chasing of tails Ignorance long forgotten A cycle indeed But of downward trajectory Gratefully, the bottom of which yet to be met by me But somehow graced by others With stronger character than I A slippery ***** An exponential decent Over which I now maintain a watchful eye