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colzzmacdonald Apr 2017
When people are people
It's the strangest thing to see
Because people are rarely
Who they pretend to be
Friends soon become your enemy
Smiles don their faces wide
They will profess to be walking
Fornent to God's side

The trickery and fakery
The beguiled full of charm
The only thing they want to do
Is cause you painful harm
The sweetness and the light they shine
Predatory as seen
A flick of a knife in moonlight
Quickly turns vulturine

If they seem too good to be true
It's no wonder, I say
Time will present that truth forthright
In a startling display
They garner an overdue curse
A soul ache deathless slay
So I'll take dogs over people
True friends in every way
Brent Kincaid Jan 2017
Jackals  and *******
Clowns and criminals;
Lies and libelous lambastes
With integrity minimal.
Grande Guignol politics
From pusillanimous politicians
Poisoning the populace
With only selfish ambitions.

Sleight of hand shysters
And self-appointed diplomats
Throw out all their morals
And set out the welcome mat
For those the most likely
To pay the highest bribe
And have no care if they sell
The land from under the tribe.

So what if water is poisoned?
As long as they make money.
After all, the rich aren’t harmed.
Now isn’t that incredibly funny?
Who cares about the future?
What matters is right now
And the profit they can make.
It is what the law will allow.

And those that wrote those laws
So cleverly and quietly confused
The very people stupid enough
To so gullibly to be thus used.
But jackals and *******
Really aren’t animals at all.
Nor are they household pets
Who come when they are called.
Hannah Payne Dec 2016
I remember the weight of his body
Towering over me,
Ensnaring the torn mesh of my skin,
Concealing the crevices he's embedded me in.

The mass of his force,
That spark traveling through his velocity,
Littering my ability,
To resist and penetrate the vein of impalpable pleasure.

He keeps it contained,
At the bottom of the river,
Beneath the hidden plain,
Of his repressed, departed soul.

Acetic fizzed, frothing exhale,
Pirouetting through my nose.
Its toxicity starts to unfold,
And he wants me to recognize  
The power of his redundant trickery
Engraved in his smirking bloodshot eye.
Nora Sep 2016
You wanted a revival,
Sought out paradise,
Rendezvous from the mind’s demise
What you thought
An upward climb
Bright path to redemption
Not another steep decline

Is it changing, or
More of the same?
Cyclical illusions in a
Spinning trick maze?
Thought you’d found an
Escape, only to stay
Trapped by a reflection
In a foggy craze
Feliz G Sep 2016
I fooled you once before,
I know I can't fool you again,
I know you're not stupid,
And you want this to end.

If I do this to you,
I'm just trying to make you smile,
all that I'm trying to do,
is keeping you from life's many lies,

Even though I've tricked you twice,
know this please,
please know I still care,
I'll try to keep you at ease.
Look at that, a not so depressing poem... huh.
cassiopeia miel Nov 2015
Let's start the game, a paint-by-numbers and I'll share the blame. I'll hypnotise you with a little dance, put you in a mild trance.

You're trying to pour salt on an already-festering wound, one made from more pressing worries than the likes of a swelling waistline and blossoming bingo wings. (I'll build ya up and hit ya right where it hurts, remove the specific pieces to make you topple, a Jenga game brought to reality and the duality between us is electricity to the thousandth volt degree. )
Dive-bomb into my veins and see if we do bleed the same, because all I taste is stardust and silvery moonbeams to your tempestuous fire and rust.

Mew mew; a sultry ***-kitten in the bedroom and a cat clawing at a scratch post on the battleground; you are sandpaper and you are silk and you rub me raw and I'll still beg for more, more, more.
This is assisted *******, a wholly strange relation(ship in a bottle), please don't shake or it'll break and crush the illusion; a crack at the mast, so it doesn't matter even if you try and hold fast.

Baby, I've got you right where I want you, teetering on the edge of a razor blade balanced on my nose. I could open my mouth and swallow you whole; say hello to his taste dancing on my tongue, a ghost of a reflection in his eyes; a tracing of the rotation of my hips. You may have him cowed, but I will always come 'round and unlock the pen so he can ravage and run rampant and free.
cassiopeia miel Nov 2015
You're searching for even the slightest validation for your inexcusable actions, transient in both values and the physical realm, collecting conquests and usurpees like how one might collect trophies from animals they hunt, faces frozen in a false expression with unseeing glassy eyes as they are forever immortalised in your sick collection to be made a mockery of long after the passage of time takes it's toll on both the images and the subjects.
A calculated maliciousness disguised as an indecisive personality, you are a bottom-feeder grafting onto the bellies of whomever are blissfully unaware or trusting enough to swim by you; but your own is yellow as a summer's day is long; not from just cowardliness, no, but from **** (sans the vinegar), and I wish I could compose this prose into something a little less hateful and a little more tasteful, but I won't spare you another second of my time, I'll erase you from my mind.
Where the lines blur, and pages end
where I cannot see a future anymore
for us
where the light and darkness come
and pass as time, here it is only grey
inside

There used to be a window where
a sparrow hid at light-crack by the sill
and sang
shrilly in the morning, he would sing
calling in the light of God, he’d sing
for us

The silence has grown thick, shaved ragged
potential, daydreams posed as promises
sharp was the resonation of our love
sharp are vile weapons and words drawn
between us now

Betrayal finds its way upon my tongue
I’d spit it out before it turns to venom
I’d have to say you’re poison to me now
left with nothing but constriction and a
failing heart

Were you my elixir, but a count of days before?
How sweet the lily of the valley’s scent
how pure is her white compilation of
forever restfulness, the peaceful trickery
and death

I’d say it’s time to lay this love to rest
Place flowers at the feet of mounds of earth
seal the wound of expecting hearts, we were
bleeding fluid prayers upon the stones
Attempting to bring the dead
Back to life
Dawn of Lighten Jun 2015
The church field trip led to the most beautiful presence,
The elegance protrude by the sweet scent.

I dared not moved so hastily,
I dared not the red!

Glanced by the peripheral eye lids,
The red beckoned the thumping beats within my chest!

A visual decor permeates from the illuminating of the perfect circle,
And my inner most demon want to ravage it!

I wanted to devour every essense of the crescent,
Becoming one with red.

I slightly move forward so no eyes may pry onto my movement,
Like an orchestra moved to one trumpet to a violin scurry along.

Finally came side by side of the precious glimmer of the curves,
And moved my hand to palm the red's grace on the tilt of it's end.

I open wide to cusp my mouth to bite deep into it's brilliance,
In my teeth feeling the liquid and crunchy of it's body!

Sour taste of salt expand a vigor of darkness cover my mouth,
I look at the apple's plate beneath me read " Ida Red!"

Water upon my eyes,
No longer can chew any further,
I simply shallowed the chunk in my throat!  

"Your elegance beckon me red, but in the end, you have seduced me to bitterness!"

I dared, Idared, ida red!
Just remembering my youth church field trip to apple orchard, and learning that not all beautiful looking apples are not all that beautiful inside!  Never judge by what I see, and the experience that will never elude me!
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