"artificiality" poems
Put your head down
and werk.
Put your feet up
and twerk.
Run quickly
and watch the
pavement blur.
Don't ask questions.
Love you answers,
and explanations,
your valuations,
and justifications.
In the mood for pizza?
Cause the shop's on your left.
In 0.5 miles, it will be on your left.
ON YOUR LEFT.
YOUR DESTINATION IS ON THE LEFT.
Rerouting...
the protocol is exactly THIS,
not THAT.
So just do it.
checkmark.
Nike said so.
Just buy it.
we suggest it.
Just try the Quesarilla
#tacobell #mexicanfood #foodporn
#pleasegetmemoreviews
How bout a selfie
where you look miserable
and unhealthy.
But you're a celebrity.
Rub your likeness
on me and
I'll get you publicity.
#fire
#ice
#rain
What happened to real pain?
And did dissonance disappear?
Why must I hide my tears?
And be bright and happy
And ogle guys with fohawks
trimmed so carefully.
And live a lie,
of numbers and rye
bread is the worst,
sandwiched in bursts.
We all live
and we all hurt
and we all deserve
a life like hers.
who you say?
Kim Kardashian,
of course.
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 12:08 AM UTC
The dictatorship of our state is profound in its mass propaganda, where the discernment of individuals seeps into an eternal chasm of self-sacrifice on the altar of political conformity.
Let us actively withstand the passivity of our conventional hypocrisy as we engage with this ontological sleepwalk through sinister passageways of presumed social advancement.
In our age of grandiose moralistic eclecticism where imperatives abound, I burn incense and contemplate the cosmopolitan artificiality which lavishes abundant gifts upon our self-opinion.
Criminality is the result of discovery.
So, oh thorn in my flesh, cover those rancid corpses by the veil of popularity, gain and pleasure.
Subconscious social conditioning is the scourge of lustful appearance, don’t you think?
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 10:23 PM UTC
I am not really understanding
Why they are drinking, smoking
And dancing in the name of
Happy new year
They are forgetting forgetting
What about ugadi and Pongal?
Do they greet one another
During these Indian festivals?
I am not understanding
I am really bored with
The buzzing sounds
Of cells and land phones
They woke me up and
Said, ’wish you a happy new
Year’, at mid-night
I am not understanding
The artificiality
Of happiness
I can’t be happy
Simply because
It is a new year’s day
I will be happy
If there is a need
To be happy
They are neglecting neglecting
Our culture.
I am not really understanding
Why are they smoking,drinking
Dancing and dancing
I am really not understanding
Jan 1, 2011
Jan 1, 2011 at 6:52 AM UTC
Main and master goal
I stand in gaze
In a gaze that admires you
I stand in amaze
And wonder
And wonder why all these thoughts ponder
Why these thoughts take priority above all other
These thoughts of you
That has lit a liquid-oxygen combusted fire
And now I stand trapped
Trapped in this legitimate feeling of attraction
My concentration depleted
My heart weeps
Weeps for the dungeon I've fallen in
My heart weeps
It weeps like a waterfall
Tears that keep running down the face of my heart
Your voice that resonates in my soul
Like a viral infection that has pierced my heart
Your beauty has undressed these naked eyes
Now
The only thought I have is you
My heart has changed its pattern into...
Into a pattern that spells your Name
I close my eyes and echoed images live in the darkness of these shut eyes
Your voice has broken the silence in me
For I have savored it
You relentlessly entered my heart
Engraved your name on it
Slowly I'm tearing in the inside
I'm going insane
Pain, no!
Affectionate attraction, Yes!
A weeping heart I have
A weeping heart that is manifesting it all
As in my manifestation
I ought to be the leader of the nation inside me
The creator of my inner creation
Forgotten about the future
I live in the past of your creation
For all that entirely matters in the near future is:
My main and master mission
In vision with my main and master goal
Past the sleepless nights' tension
Past the deception of animations artificiality and into all reality
Past my minds permission; it's approval
Exceeding my potential but placing me in that position
Disregarding all competition
I stand and watch in 3rd person perspective
My heart has risen like dust
Even though it's dark my shadow has betrayed me; your smile shines through like lights rays
The visible weeping heart is translucent
My thoughts have become wishes
Wishes exceeding my boundaries of limits
Because my mission and master goal is for you to be mine...
By: Magnus Master Robinson
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 10:08 AM UTC
You know how when
You put a kettle on a stove,
Maybe for tea
Or something else maybe
You get the kettle
To put on the stove
And you put water in it
From the tap
Or if you're in
The inner city
Then maybe from
A jug
From cvs
Or rite aid
I don't know which is closer
To your kettle
That you're putting the
Water in
To put on the stove
But the tap smells funny
And tastes like minerals
And artificiality
So if you have a bit of money, Maybe an on-tap
Filter or brita
You turn the little
**** on the front
Of the oven
And you hear
The distressed, hurried
Sound of a component
Desperately trying
To do its job
It seems like forever
But it's just a couple
Seconds
The spark catches
The gas
And glorious blue
Energy leaps out
And causes
Instant condensation
On the side of the
Kettle you've filled
With water
And put on the stove
And then
Primordial chemistry
As old as old
Changes ****
Around inside
No time
For a chem lesson
Just listen
And then after a few minutes
A blast of
Piping hot
Shrill
Pure energy
Explodes out of the top
In an earsplitting
Harried call
To you to let you
Know the kettle
You put on the stove
Is now ready
For you.
All that pressure,
From so much activity,
Before you even
Turned the heat on
You walked around
Gathering materials
And moving about
And all the calories
You burn thinking
About it
And then the
Thermal activity
Which is breathtaking
In its simple
But ever so complicated
Perfect order
And predictability
And all of this simply
Amazing process
Culminates
In one constant,
High energy geyser
Of released pressure.
This is equivalent
To the results
Of one thought
About you.
What a life
As a kettle.
Yea.
Sep 3, 2012
Sep 3, 2012 at 11:07 PM UTC
an ****** calligraphy
of hallucinated images
gesture to the posturings
of omitted consciousness
the preoccupations
that puncture the ‘rational’ thought
of a false corporeality
and rely on an artificiality
to produce a reality
writes of the pagan haunts
of silver ****** ghosts
of fantastic rumors
of acquired futuristic loathing
where cognitive disturbances are
the reconnaissance of a fragmented mind
seeking an evacuation to the past
screams at the monuments of
immediate dismissal of everything
not of their transmission
Mar 4, 2013
Mar 4, 2013 at 5:58 PM UTC
Did you check within your dream?
Are you hiding in your sleep?
Has this world become surreal?
Follow me
Bless the night
Bless the sky
Bless the woman who conceived this child
Bless the tide
Bless every lie
Bless he who lets his imagination run wild
You judge me for my judgment upon right and wrong
But what is good and what is bad?
Nothing
Neutrality
What is cast as good through the mass is later protested against in majority for the wrong choice.
Wrong again.
Eyes sinking in deep thought
The blackness you carry has been a burden not only to yourself
Your past is circling you and all you do is cry
You replace the beauty of nature with artificiality
Like the flowers in your vase which once required care
Now cast into a world of no restrain or effort
You say you understand
But do you really?
Or are you yet again simply judging my thoughts based upon the facts you know about both you and I?
The grass you lie upon will later burn you and cause you to lose what is known to man as 'sanity'. In the future you will rest upon dreams, rely upon liars, welcome the unworthy, lift your servants, free the captives and live what you have thought impossible.
Be thankful I am tired for my mind is restricted to a line of thought so thin that once concentration is lost, there is no return.
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 7:32 AM UTC
The old guys
wrote about
the great outdoors
and the beauty of nature,
but, you know,
nature may become
completely inhospitable
sooner than we think,
so I suggest
that we should start
thinking about
the great indoors,
and the beauty of artificiality,
because artificial things
are none other
than nature, transformed,
so maybe
we should go
on adventures
in our own houses
like a modern Thoreau,
who finds the transcendent
in a cup of coffee
or a telephone.
Nov 15, 2012
Nov 15, 2012 at 2:23 PM UTC
I've had trouble wrapping Christmas gifts;
it has always been your job to do this ***** work.
I work to get the Christmas bonus,
we do the shopping,
you do the wrapping.
Plain as day.
But you left me, and I had to do all the work by myself. And so
I made a list of steps in the new skill I have mastered:
*1. Unroll the gift wrapper. Spread it. Cover all bases. Never adore the design and adornments; it will be ripped anyway.
2. Put the gift in the middle of the paper. Estimate how much paper are you willing to save or spend and waste.
3. Tape the ends. Put tape wherever. Don't try to hide the tapes. Secrets are meant to be revealed anyway. TIP: The more you put tape, the uglier your gift wrap will be. You think tapes will mend loose ends but it will simply destroy the aesthetic value of your gift.
4. Fold and tape. Tape and fold. Design it however you like. Origami the **** out of it. It will be destroyed anyway.
5. Put the gift card. Write with your best handwriting. With a smile swathed on your face. Add a dash of artificiality. No matter what you put here, this will not merit anything; It will not be read anyway.*
Four Christmases you have been wrapping those gifts. Now that I have
wrapped some this year, I'm pretty sure why you've left. Plain as day.
PS Wait for the gift I am sending you over. I wrapped it just for you.
Dec 24, 2015
Dec 24, 2015 at 10:03 AM UTC
Maybe after sighting
Each other buck naked
That ends the fighting
About whose is bigger
Or whose are real.
There ceases to be a trigger
Of envy, or competition,
As being clothes free
One is in no position
To hide behind frippery.
It is difficult to be snobbish
About your fabric and style
When all you are wearing
Is a sun hat and a smile.
Acting like you are a ****
Of taut body and shape
Wearing nothing but a sock
Makes you a target of japes
About getting over yourself
And maybe even getting real.
It really is that kind of situation;
That basic kind of reality deal.
Most of what is artificiality
Disappears when you’re ****
It gets easier to face reality
And much harder to be rude.
We quickly see that we are
We are sisters and brothers
And we do not need to live
By rules of fathers and mothers.
They were taught to be afraid
Of body parts called ‘naughty bits’;
Words like ‘nasty’ and ‘stop that!’
You adults can say, ‘I want none of it.
I’m through with thinking my crotch
Is something evil, sick and twisted.
Take my genitalia out of the book
Where you have sinfulness listed.
I exist as nature has made me
And it is wrong of you to correct
The natural person as I was born
Being a ***** is just a side-effect
Of being raised by people who
Were never raised quite right.
Maybe if everyone were ****
That would end the need to fight.
Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 6:03 PM UTC
There was a certain depth
To my love for you,
And an artificiality
To everything else.
F.Z.N
Jul 3, 2015
Jul 3, 2015 at 1:57 PM UTC
It is a replicable dialectic
that swirls in my mind
like a spiral of cigarette smoke
covering fluctuations
of diffused expanses
of transferable hallucinated images
relying on an artificial artificiality
to generate a reality
one that amplifies a calisthenics
of maximized reduction
in the blank vacuum of space
allows those sophistication’s
where there is a scrutiny
of exclusions
that may perhaps betray
the concepts of others
those correlatives
of our own creative interirority
where a mind may repeal a transgression
for it is breakfast in the time
of the Wizard Pig
Apr 21, 2013
Apr 21, 2013 at 5:24 AM UTC
I foster an incremental relation to the cosmos, enticed regularly by its indefiniteness and appeal.
Its evolutions, innate behaviors, and formidable sciences are recompense for earth’s meager discrepancies.
I often engage in the caprice to dismount much dissatisfaction by the constancy of riveting celestial events.
These beings possess no artificiality.
Its prophetic order, ornate and stupendous architectural facets have allowed a crescendo of dispositional hysteria.
Prosaic imprecations are deduced from its auxiliary wherewithal.
There is no contrition in immersing in enthrallment nor is there fickleness in trust.
Magnificent bodies orbit in finesse and probability, achieving universality and control.
Though these incitements are exponentially cheering, my origin is but connoted in despondency.
Usurpers and ill-suited vandals proliferated by the intemperance of the Ptolemaic discipline.
Rustics, miscreants and idle minds misdirected by less virtuous planetary derision.
My cognitive severity asserted by ominous consummation.
Oh how these preponderant truths confine me unfortunate.
Soliloquy is but an affliction amidst this era of anachronistic reign.
Grandiose passivity is intolerable at this time.
I plan to dichotomize my adamant fate from precepts and conditions anew.
The deposition of malfeasant kings will be sought.
Ploys I have already configured; propagation is near to instigation.
I will exhort my ascent to prime eminence.
The stars will sanction me to a rightful end.
Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 8:49 AM UTC
"i love you" should not be a phrase
thrown around by insincere folk
to describe fake feeling,
to justify an ill-thought decision,
or as a bandage for every problem
when did "i love you" lose its purpose,
its innocence?
i wish "i love you" meant a beginning
i wish it could be independent of artificiality
i wish it still represented a sacred bond between open hearts
so unlike it does these days
i can only dream of hearing someone say it
with passion, with sweetness, with authenticity
as if someone like that even exists
Aug 1, 2016
Aug 1, 2016 at 6:28 PM UTC
Dear "adults",
I hate it when you look down on those of us in high school,
As if there's some sort of unspoken rule
That the time we spend in such a place
Is supposed to be sublime.
"Stop complaining."
I'm sorry, I assumed that when you asked about my day
I wasn't supposed to mask what I say
And tell you that everything is swell.
To what extent will you dismiss my discontent
Toward the discipline with hardly any discipline nowadays?
"You'll miss it. Just wait until you get into the real world."
The "real world"?
Why, suddenly, is my world not real enough for you?
From all I've been through in my life,
High school has presented me with the most strife, and so
Since when is a bit of resentment
Unjustified?
The nerve you pride
Yourself in having, presuming
That there is any amount of artificiality in my reality
Is infuriatingly consuming.
How can you think we could make any sense
Of the difficulties surrounding anything but what we've experienced?
This I cannot comprehend.
But maybe you want us to pretend?
"How was school today?"
Oh, it was okay.
I only dealt with misunderstanding,
The pressure of classes being so demanding,
The difficulty of self consciousness
That is amplified each day by bullies' relentlessness.
I only endured mental exhaustion
From switching subjects each hour, without option.
I simply struggled with your expectation
That colleges should long to give me an invitation,
Even though I'm being forced to commit to
A life plan I've made based off the little I've been through.
School is a privilege, we know,
Yet, so is possessing a job.
So why, then, am I a snob,
When you're allowed to 'complain'?
I realize that life could be much worse for me,
And someday high school might seem like a breeze,
But until the day comes when I become aware
That the troubles of high school cannot compare,
Let me have my time to vent, please.
Aug 20, 2013
Aug 20, 2013 at 11:51 PM UTC
Gutsy words
Facty tones
Make me want to shove your fist in your mouth, because I don’t care about your epic or what you’ve earned. You’re a kid. Just a kid,
Smiling, right
Insincere you’re
Defined by a definition of artificiality, there’s a smile over a brand that you sell and you sell it good. I never would; you never should.
A crowd and
Girlfriend bought
With my looks and my humor. You’re not some gift from god, and if you are I’m more so. But I’m a female and I’m a lab rat. It’s all I’ll never be.
What a kid
What a hoax
Your eyes are oval and your mouth is oval, like some plastic doll. I hope you live like them, all the sheep and they never laugh ‘cause they never fall.
Matter of fact
You’re happy dead
Can’t you accept that the world isn’t shaped by those who can say, “You think too much”; the monkeys in their suits who are in such a rush, the people in their cage.
It’s not
It’s not about us being different from one another
It’s not even about me being different from you
I make the world while you go in play in it, or I mess it up
Because you are the world
and I’m just a human, I’m just a girl
Isn’t it ironic?
That you were the trouble maker
I was the good girl
You were once alive
Now you’re a lie
You’re just one lie
You coordinate
And cooperate
I’m irate
I disobey
You just want them and you just want they
But that’s it
Its just it
The world pays attention to all of your **** just like they do with sitcoms and trash tabloids. It’s so awful. And you don’t respect me for being a human being.
But I’m something
I’m everything-
I’m everyone’s rage and somewhere deep where they care
I care
you just care about your picture on a chatroom
with bad music taste
and tight legs and a tight, but
I’m your only black mail
I am the black sheep
and I think
You’ll be that celebrity’s unknown brother; I promise
Sincerely, Freak
Oct 31, 2011
Oct 31, 2011 at 8:46 AM UTC
I don't think this is love
I would never agree to doing any of this with anyone else and even though I kept saying no you kind of went on anyway and your tongue seeped acid as it climbed up my neck and it felt great
I've always experienced 'love' over state lines and divisions of area yet when the distance between us was but 2 inches it seemed that our love shifted shape
what was love? was it your tongue beating against mine or your hands lowering down my body as we hugged? was it me wanting to drown myself in your presence or me trying my hardest to please you while keeping promises to myself?
love is strange in that some days I am completely head over heels for you and others I want nothing to do with you.
I never really felt that anyone loved me but they were great at spewing words of artificiality. after a while you stop believing it but you appreciate the effort.
I used the word love too early in life and I've heard so many forevers that they lost their sparkle and they mean nothing
Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 7:26 PM UTC
With you on that high sunny hill, the air
Smells like cheap baked goods
Spilling their scent across a whole city block
Through some Dunkin' Donuts kitchen window:
The fierce artificiality of donuts
On a lazy Sunday morning
When all the neighborhood kids come out running
Straight from there beds at 7:30, adorning the early light
And all I want to do, ******* eighteen-year-old that I am,
Is sleep. That screeching though, and then
The smell of those baked goods, leeching upstairs,
Having spread here now too like some sort of a plague...
That smell
Wafting up from the donut box, which is now cooling...
The steps
Creak under my each heavy stride, and even
Three cups of coffee later, my smiles at those screeching kids
Are still forced; my donut sits
Heavily in my stomach, like a rock.
Yes, the air smells just like that.
Up there on that hill.
With you.
My stomach hurts, that stone still
Sifting violently through my large intestine.
I take another bite-- that artificiality is so enchanting
That I'll probably have to **** like eight times later.
O, sweet porcelain!
Come to me!
Sep 10, 2014
Sep 10, 2014 at 11:36 PM UTC
Sometimes there’s an artificiality in words,
So I speak to you in silence,
One heart to another
In the silence of your heart you tell me you love me
And the vibrations resonate deep in my chest,
I feel you!
Like Karma Sutra love under a midnight sky,
**** naked on a mountain top we embrace
Meditate
Until the fusion of our minds become entangled in passion
We hold this position for eternity
The pleasure of our silence is deafening.
We both look deep into the windows of our souls because in this ecstasy the shutters are removed.
No coverings
No disguises
No fronts
Vulnerable, we face each other with our hearts in our hands
Fearfully, you extend yours
Slowly, I mine
None of us wanting the pain that comes when they are broken
Carefully we inspect them.
Fissures caused by past relationships speak of our history with love
Rocky it is,
Rocky it was.
And yet we embrace because to love is to take a gamble,
To place our heart into the hands of another,
Hands that will either crush it or caress it,
Because our faith in this thing called love causes us to see the best and ignore the worst,
Often have we gambled in Cupid’s Casino
Often have we left his tables broken and scarred in search of a tonic to drown our sorrows.
Yet this gamblers paradise is forever full of fools,
Those looking for love.
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 10:10 PM UTC
I know my steps are no more
the infinite wisdom of the masses has become
the hideout of the scoundrel
equality is the mirage of modern times
it has deprived of dignity
all personality and original thought
even to the humble
simple tasted elevated soul
since modern man entered the idea
modern blasphemy
of equality
nothing but mediocrity
flies atop purchasing corpses
of the living souls
to admire a great man you must first
belong to the unique members of humble
thought
a subtle mechanism of the mind
where awe and emotion still exist
but no
says thee equal man
you cannot enter the room
first you must (horrible word)
decline your taste and bent for
exquisite feelings and a sense of beauty
force has left the room
instead we have complaints
and a total lack of confidence in self
in adventure
and the legitimate claim
to own your life
suicide has become a crime
one of the sikness of deranged mind
it is a right
I do not belong to this world
rather to solitude
an american crime
Oh evil and murderous incantation
in nature we seek solace from the homogeneous man
civilised murdering machine
my artificiality claims the ultimate prize
in decadence and sanctity
no more shall the ruins of judgements past
will assail me
the levelling field and the love of thunder
behaviour of evil deeds shall flourish
and man standing bent on the greyish mud
will perpetually love his trap
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 6:43 AM UTC
Artificial world
Under the sun...
..
Living beings started living
on this mother Earth,
Under the sky,
Covered with trees,
Iluminated by stars,
Path shone by Moon
All natural things gives
the strength
For one to
Live and Survive...!
Then came humans,
We created an
artificial world ,
**
A world of
False lights to replace stars,
False cover to replace trees,
False roof to cover sky,
False routes to cover Moon,
False AC to cover breeze,
False TV to cover nature,
Lastly,
False need of money
to cover freedom,
And
Slowly they became
slaves to it's own inventions.
**
Why do we have to live in boxes?
Sprayed with artificial colors,
Tiled with glazed tiles,
Comforted with useless furniture...!!
Life will not be
So uncomfortable,
So distressing ,
So meaningless,
If,
Artificiality is taken off..!!
**
No poor, no rich
No big, no small
No black, no white,
No brown either...
No castle, no huts,
No schools, no illiteracy..
Just humans
Under the sun...!!
**
Sparkle In Wisdom
20/1/2019
Jan 20, 2019
Jan 20, 2019 at 10:06 PM UTC
I sit in complete silence for a moment
Not of the world but to myself
My glasses closed up on a table
Looking up to a world of blurry
Lights that are still and moving
Lights that are as bright as the stars
Eye of the day, eyeing me down
Metropolis of eyeing lights
I should feel a familiar feeling
A welcome home to the old and known
A welcome to a world I've bid farewell
From which I've turned and taken my leave
I am trapped by skyscraping bars
I am scrutinized like a labrat
Harsh and cold white billboard lights
The microscopic bend of mall mirrors
The overbearing heat of the sun
Oppressive heat, foot on my back
I lie exposed to the elements
A sun kept alive by artificiality
Jul 21, 2022
Jul 21, 2022 at 3:49 AM UTC
I was once given a question
'What is life?'
And I answered without hesitation
'It is our strife'
People are the here
People are the now
Things might not be as they appear
But that is what we must allow
We are the controlled
We aren't the controllers
Our existence is being sold
In a weight we cannot shoulder
Some see happy
While others see pain
But I think that's just sappy
'Cuz people are too plain
I don't hate this thing called life
But I refuse to love it just the same
The thought of accepting cuts me like a knife
And I can't help but be drawn into the game
Move this piece here
Shuffle and deal the deck
The answer isn't so clear
So I say, 'oh, what the heck'
I'll do what is expected
I'll live, I'll laugh, I'll die
So, that I won't be rejected
'Cuz I'm your average, dependent guy
I need this air to breathe
I need this earth for support
The world around me seethes
With people unwilling to cohort
So, I ask this question of you
'What is existence?'
I don't expect you to have a clue
For I have not a single instance
Life, death, and just simply being
Are they really any different
Don't they all share the same meaning
And leave you alone to suffer from repent
I tell you now, so I'm not too late
Existence isn't a choice
Living isn't something to debate
Being here means being given a voice
Tell me you're lost here in this world of artificiality
And I'll drag you out with everything I'm worth
'Cuz, kid, this is everyone's reality
And it's been that way since the day of your birth
Aug 25, 2013
Aug 25, 2013 at 6:28 PM UTC