Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Amy 3d
you say you're sorry
but you go back to your tendencies
you say you're sorry
but you go and repeat the action you apologise for
you say you're sorry
but i can see it in your eyes,
your  eyes show your true desires
not taking into account for all those around you
for your eyes are not deceiving as your mouth
how can you be so inconsiderate?
apologising so you can sweep the issue under the rug
so you can keep me quiet

you don't need to apologise no more
they mean nothing to me if you can't do a **** thing about it
I'm better off without your false apologies.
when someone says they are sorry but don't really mean it.
Harley Hucof Oct 5
The Thing about Logic is that it can be used to prove anything.

Words Of Harfouchism.
JP Goss Sep 29
In long cemetery rows
We broke our backs to sow these tilling fields—

Nourishing them with rivulets of blood,
And panicked sweat—

Gun shells sprouting nooses
Make hardened, apathetic blooms—

And we wonder why the fruit is poison—
Giving seeds room to germinate,

In the name of individualism
In the name of industry,

In the name of law,
In the name of order—

In long cemetery rows
We broke our back to sow the killing fields—

To drown out the pain
As weakness leaving having over stayed—

Asking what’s wrong with me
As the lines get deeper,

On foreheads and wrists,
In unemployment offices and churches

We still spit on charity
Ever feeding the sodden ground,

Weakness does not ask control
But only respite

Strength asks for status quo
To overcome and fight,

A test for the True American,
Whatever face becomes this myth,

To be born classless into this stratum of wealth
To indulge humanly and face the consequences

To chase desire and be punished for it
To be the casualty of ideologies

So far removed from what belly and skin want
To ignore the rumblings and twitching—

Who does till these killing fields
But those meant to die there?

While the quartermaster, on hills
Where treaties are to be drawn,

Strips away the olive branch,
Tween him and the planters,

As he waits for the whites of their eyes
To collide as the unthinkable:

An unmanageable force of nature,
The hatred sowed in those killing fields.

But, until then, we drain every last bit
From ourselves, fighting over a dying earth.

Roll out all the fuel we need let’s burn the machine
That could have brought peace.
False Poets Sep 21
"Colours" by Donovan.                         
“Colors” by a False Poet.

Yellow is the color of my true love's hair    
sun dapples her gold shadings
In the mornin', when we rise                        
sun searching for the truest color
in the mornin', when we rise                      
peaking, she’s peeking, we waking, uprising
That's the time, that's the time.                  
her best time, sleepy doe eyed, all yellow,
I love the best                                                
bangs tickling eyes, I write of sun sparks

Blue's the color of the sky                          
blue is the primary, the selected color,
In the mornin', when we rise                        
that’s chosen to be a lovers greeting,
In the mornin', when we rise
a cloudy white pastel of blue,
That's the time, that's the time
that’s the days first part, our best parting
I love the best

Green's the color of the sparklin' corn
green Granny Smith apples, ****
In the mornin', when we rise
our mouths pucker, drool, chin juices
In the mornin', when we rise
that’s the days first part, a best parting
That's the time, that's the time
that’s the days first part, a best joining
I love the best

Mellow is the feelin' that I get
mellow is with me, all de day
When I see her, mm hmm
seeing her first eye blinking smile
When I see her, uh huh
the feeling infused, all de day,
That's the time, that's the time
she grants me loves freedom
I love the best

Freedom is a word I rarely use
except when I look upon her
Without thinkin', mm hmm
with knowing, full complete
Without thinkin', uh huh
with knowing, fully, completely
Of the time, of the time
of every time our morning glances meet
When I've been loved
https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/donovan/colours.html
Di Verce Sep 20
I'm your other half
Your better half
How come you don't hear me
I take what you say to heart
It hurts, but I push through it
To find the truth
You must fear it
But why say you love me
When you don't stand for me
Abandonment is you
So why are you so high?
An addict, abuser, childish user
At least stop saying you're fairer
That lie hurts too
I name the lie
And all you have is a swat
You are violence
Where is your love?
I will cut you off if I have to
So that I may breathe with those who have affection
And you may asphyxiate
And hurt no more
Don't read this part if you want to perceive this poem as being solely about everyday romantic relationships.

Why do they always say I don't listen when I've always listened?

Why do they say I'm a hypocrite when I've already asked that of myself, I've doubted first, to know - why do they not doubt, when they don't know?

I sought truth at all costs. They're just afraid of losing their worldview, their illusions.

If that's the case, the least they can do is stay out of my way.

The holy man is his own harshest critic. Why do they think they are blameless? Why call themselves so loving, when all they have is excuses and a lack of care for those who are unloved?

I want to help and discuss, they want to hurt and silence. It's in the intention, and the soul, it's a choice. They claim to be good, and that I'm not.

I consider them insane.
The more you share,
The more they care.
The louder you cry,
The greater they try.
The faster you run,
The quicker they follow.
And once you are done,
You’ll lose faith in tomorrow.
wonderwall Aug 22
something in the way you speak
or maybe the way you smile
and even then,
I never ever thought,
that falling for you
is the hardest thing
I never meant to

suddenly,
you're everywhere,
every single dreams,
everything I ever want myself to be

and when the clock keeps ticking
you're just out of nowhere

-wonderwall-
Terry Collett Aug 21
She laughed some,
but hollow,
an echo

of falseness,
right down to
her laughter.

When she does
her make up,
it becomes

her own mask;
masking her
other self

from others;
hiding up
behind it

her true self,
shallow pond
of dark thoughts,

murky whims,
muddy brown
desires,

Hell-like stoked
up fires.
At night time

she removes
the make up,
the false mask,

before she
goes to bed,
naked self,

no pretence,
no more lies,
and seeing

her real self,
she just cries.
Rebeca Aug 20
I've been dreaming about a girl
With silver hair and icy eyes,
With pink lips and good vibes,
With the softest smile and skinny thighs...
She was the sun ray that kissed your face
After the cruel winter haze.
She was the gracious lioness,
Almost like a royal Highness.

But she was just a con
Because, c'mon ,
She told me she loved me,
That she'll never leave me
And then I woke up and she was gone
And I was left alone from dusk 'till dawn.
When you think you just found your true Happiness, then Life waltzes in and gives you a good slap.
सत्यकोपनि
असत्यकोपनि
भेदभाब गर्नेकोपनि
नगर्नेकोपनि
समाचार लेखेर
खाउ
चेलीबेटी बेच्नेको कथा
नबेच्नेकोपनि
समाचार लेखेर
कमाउ
शैली : अवलोकन
विषय: जो बोल्छ उही छुच्चो
Next page