"deceptions" poems
Middle School
Full of friends and love
Hate and lust
Being thrown under the bus
Doing the right thing
Is harder than it sounds
Harder than it looks, too
Always wanting to be found
Rescued from the abyss
That feeds off of your sadness
That doesn’t know when to stop
That will make you collapse
Needing support
Wherever you can find it
Taking it from others
If it means peace
Life upside-down
Never know how
To turn your life over
That frown upside-down
So when you find peace
Wherever you find it
You never want to leave it
But sometimes you must
Coming back to resurface
After all the sadness
You see the world differently
Then you saw it before.
People can help
But sometimes they don’t
Sometimes they think their helping
But really they’re not
Don’t fall for the lies
The deceptions they place
To try and make you come with them
And do the wrong things
Because in the end, you’ll find
You never wanted to be with them
You just want to be you
And not just some hologram
Embrace who you are
And what you’ve gone through
No matter what it is
Walk up with open arms
Take what you have
And don’t worry about what you don’t
Because in the end, you’ll find
There’s nothing wrong with you
You’ve been through high times
And low ones, too
But no matter what had happened
You found your way through
Through the darkness, you emerged
Opening your eyes
To a new world of color
Without wearing a disguise
Learning who you are
Can change how you act
Change how you feel
Even change how you react
Because now you know
How to see in color
No longer in the darkness
World seeming brighter
Every day can be a good one
If you know how to live it
All you have to do
Is change how you see it
Dec 5, 2017
Dec 5, 2017 at 3:30 PM UTC
im a self describing a self
a face on a liquid surface
a plasticity
a brain
a three pound infinity
always remodeling itself
and making new copies
a copy
of
a copy
of
a copy
a massive accumulation of copies
each a slight distortion
from it's original eminence
a history of minute alterations
all subtle deceptions
my so-called reality
a memory
of
a memory
of
a memory
a repetition pouring the self out
self corrupting the self
until it is somebody else
a fibbing shifty double-dealing soft machine
trying to remain intact
it's signature
a disjunctured awareness
my cells talk **** about each other
i'm more microbes than human
every synaptic light of the divine casting a shadowed past
a devil to the true origin
a mangled remembering
my pillar of reality
spirit from matter
not the other way around
i no longer recognize myself
am i human
or perhaps a robot
an alien
a walk in
that left the original inhabitant
disembodied
to wander perplexed in a netherworld
lost and crying
or, just a bad copy
of
a copy
of
a copy
of
a co
py
of
a
a
co
Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 2:46 PM UTC
Lies and deceit, it's all around me
Lies and deceptions, two bad surroundings
I see no point, I see no end
Those are enemies, who I thought were friends.
I see and hear it, find it hard to believe
They don't want any good, but only to deceive
I don't know who to trust, everyone's a target
The things they'll do it’s hard to forget
Deceit and deception, over and over
The chances of good friend, like a four leaf clover
Be careful of personas or alters unknown
Hidden behind a profile not wearing perfume but rather cologne
Nov 18, 2017
Nov 18, 2017 at 10:42 AM UTC
whom do you trust
solider, sailor, tinker, tailor....
what eyes see the meaning of the blind
what tongues listen...which lies
in the picturesque morning
beauty spins its deceptions with golden hued sunlight
weaves its hand puppet theatricals made of
fleeting wisps of smiles
kissing gestures weakly delivered
solider, sailor, tinker, tailor...
they gather round the dead man
some come to mourn the lost
some come to rifle through his pockets
some come to silently wait for their own fate
he sits in his worn chair
in a pool of lamplight
with a small hammer in hand
his spectacles on bridge of his nose
tapping tapping ever so gently the thin metal mask
tinker...tailor...sailor...solider
the uniform of his mind shifts according to his lie
his tool is always the deceptions and misdirections
a sly smile...firm handshake...a signature style
'to whom do you trust' is a phrase that troubles him
her perfume lingers in the air
years have buried the cold war
but not its warriors
not their handiwork
they dress the dead man for his burial
with his decorations and platitudes
with his shiny sword and neat uniform
with honors they lay him
with truths his secret they bury him
why did he do thus....to whom did he answer
to the tomb with his truths and lies
to the tomb
he gathers the long coat
and the umbrella
walks out in london's chill spring night
to a bridge
and throws a small box into the river
long years after the cold war died
these men of shadows still play
these keepers of the gate still watch for hannibal and his horde
solider, sailor, tinker, tailor
whom do you trust
Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 11:03 AM UTC
these tempting and tumultuous times,
when the insect bite of attraction nibbles
your cheek, and first blood thickens with
intrigued,
the blood heated by, with a bewildering new sun's glow,
then bubbling boiling
over
with phantasmagorical fantasies,
and one endeavors to coax, to tease,
to preen, to adduce how best to ******
this persona, imagined or imaginary to be,
whispers a silent "no thankee''
and first bloom curls into a deathly brown doom,
you,
chastened by amorous hastening so quick evolving,
and the hither in come here, withers to a ghostly silencing,
one wonders, reminisces, and sadly recalls then forgets
the entreaties so eagerly received, how one wants to be
deceived,
for the once lay-buried-arousals now well recalled,
and quick to appear, faster to dismiss disappear,
and disaster cones and goes with light-speed velocity,
having fling,
now flung,
having crushed,
now crushing,
you caught laughing at your self,
still evolving long past the time
for youthful deceptions and silly indiscretions,
but not unhappily, for it was an acknowledgement
that good love poetry yet within resides, alas, alas,
it reciprocity seeds need replanting, and that notion
is quite pleasing...
Sep 13, 2025
Sep 13, 2025 at 9:00 AM UTC
'Of course I was drugged, and so heavily I did not regain
consciousness until the next morning. I was horrified to
discover that I had been ruined, and for some days I was inconsolable,
and cried like a child to be killed or sent back to my aunt.'
-Mayhew, London Labour and the London Poor
Even so distant, I can taste the grief,
Bitter and sharp with stalks, he made you gulp.
The sun's occasional print, the brisk brief
Worry of wheels along the street outside
Where bridal London bows the other way,
And light, unanswerable and tall and wide,
Forbids the scar to heal, and drives
Shame out of hiding. All the unhurried day,
Your mind lay open like a drawer of knives.
Slums, years, have buried you. I would not dare
Console you if I could. What can be said,
Except that suffering is exact, but where
Desire takes charge, readings will grow erratic?
For you would hardly care
That you were less deceived, out on that bed,
Than he was, stumbling up the breathless stair
To burst into fulfillment's desolate attic.
3.9k
When I fall in love
I become obsessed.
Anger,
Jealousy,
possessiveness,
it all controls me.
All my insecurities exposed,
my anxieties
come out of obscurity.
For rejection, unrequited love
and deceptions,
I have no immunity.
But falling in love requires false expectations.
Jun 15, 2021
Jun 15, 2021 at 8:45 PM UTC
it's all in the details, shadows tracing shapes
of ghosts of past demons seductive with
wide eyes of warm brown flecked moss green
whisper in my ears of delusions and grandeur
while fingertips trace burning lines in
the well worn patterns on my back
temptress, succubus, leech, smooth with
manipulative cunning and dangerous beauty
a haunting promise to kiss the poison lips
of a night filled with fool's gold memories
left in the morning with an empty chest
and entrails that went west with the setting sun
with the greatest beauty, and grasping claws
silk sharp nails hooked in flesh and conscious thought
leave me from your deceptions and lies
my sweet Lilith, I am but a disposable distraction
naught but a notch in your bed
you left with my mind and my heart
left my body but an empty shell
a wraith wandering this grey plane
Jun 1, 2013
Jun 1, 2013 at 10:38 AM UTC
Sings hymns to appease the wrath of the gods.
Plough the fallowed ground and acknowledge that feminine seductions are the source of interplanetary equilibrium.
Is that the best that you have got? Well, we know your wiles and will not succumb to your enticements, despite those expectations of the authorities.
A wet orifice certainly comes at a price, yet her warmth contains forbidden properties in the face of ritualistic defiance.
So, my heavenly being, I urge you to bow the knee in humble adoration to your anatomical deceptions.
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 3:41 PM UTC
I try to put the words together
make em eb an flow...
the waves were crashing all around
and began to rock the boat..
it crashed and left him stranded
and enveloped in the swoll..
hes fighting for the surface but he's
being pulled below...
deep down in to the recess of his
dark an dreary mind...
hes surrounded by the thoughts
and feelings of every single kind...
now unsure to where to go from
here its all become to much...
whats real or fake or in between he's
got no reality to clutch...
but now hes scratched the surface
and the disk begins to skip...
hes starting to let go a little push and
then he slips...
he finds himself together
he's perfectly in tact...
now hes got the power harnessed
no way he can look back...
His goal becomes destruction
he begins to look around...
He sees the lies that torture him,
his target he has found....
the source of all this pain and hurt
your deceptions were so good...
How you always faked the smile
he's never understood....
In his mind he begins erasing never saving
what was bad...
Now anything he didn’t want its if he's
never seen or had...
The good did come but came and
went just lost along the way...
Now he sat up and smiled
for he had come upon today....
Just up on the horizon the sun had begun to rise...
the light began to take him
he tightly closed his eyes...
He awoke to find himself alone
just lying on the shore...
He breathed in deep to his relief
he had been there before...
This beach he had imagined every night
he lay in bed....
This place was his escape from all thoughts
inside his head...
The water washed up on his feet
it began to come and go...
The waves they crashed just like the words
that so did eb and flow
-JT
Nov 9, 2012
Nov 9, 2012 at 1:15 AM UTC
The girl who never goes out,
We coin as no fun.
However she comes from a family
Where money was tight
And stresses were high.
She just wishes for a better life.
The boy who dresses well,
We coin as gay.
However he really just enjoys fashion
And loves people
No matter the ***
He hopes for the world to be
More accepting than his broken father.
The guy who is quiet,
We coin as antisocial.
As if he didn't have enough trouble already
Forcing himself into his own introvert.
All he asks for is for kids to be
informed.
But most of all,
The girl who is always smiling,
We coin as happy.
When in reality the only happy thing about her
is her smile.
She keeps it together for the likes of others
And prays for a better tomorrow.
Jan 21, 2014
Jan 21, 2014 at 12:56 AM UTC
In Parsley, a Levantine munificence accreted together in Tabbouleh,
herbage that covers fractured bedrock in a poultice of healing.
Secreted within, lie igneous outpourings of bloodied tomatoes,
those solid affections that had welled through an ocean floor
as Neptune quelled Gaia's contractions, her waters seeking to burst
beneath the wrinkled surface of a salty sea. She, an underbelly of sky,
pregnant in the overwhelm of magma, sweating out her heart in fire,
muted like a moon of Neptune, in his retrograde soliloquies, yet mirroring
hers in icy resurfacings of skin. The God of the Sea, boils an amnion
to hazy mists, how deep will his trident plunge to dislodge those Trojan ships
of deceptions ? Yet, Triton blows a conch for Gaia, not for man's duelling
and his warring tribes. He soothes her feverish gnashing of thighs
labouring continents. Some fires burn in water, like desultory heartbeats
moving the pace of rocks through the ocean floor, spiriting away
to stranger places still, marking maps of memories in the beauty of
a stillborn magma. The limestone they say is no blood relation to such
alien fructification, those oceanic intruders, bleeding still, spilling
secrets in reds and purples. The acid tears spilled in lemons merely
neutralised in syllables, sedimented to a community of limestone,
that possess no archaic remnants reminiscing through dead bones,
an age of glory. Now beauty lies in herbage over once raucous magma
and traces of a salty sea, freshness of life trailing her veins, in fragrance of Parsley
Jun 24, 2021
Jun 24, 2021 at 7:15 AM UTC
I make room
I make time
I make nothing but connection
You make reason
You make rhyme
I make nothing but exceptions
We make a fool out of me
and a hero out of you
So you are nothing but perfection
We make excuses
We make lies
But they are nothing but deceptions
May 3, 2021
May 3, 2021 at 2:18 AM UTC
sunshine seeps through blue dresses
and laughing echoes via open windows
with rays on my shoulders
and caresses on my nose.
splashes of rainwater glisten in the sun
with camisoles and lingerie above.
fulfilling stances of smiles and buoyancy
as i sway in my mary janes.
my snow-white blouse feels loose.
i inhale with ease
as the humidity offers a veil
over my bare shoulders.
the bitter moon has inched over
the prospect; the blue skies
have twisted and crooked to black.
dust lynches off disgusting, damp garments.
the moon hits the violet vests,
and cries are blocked by closed doors.
there is artificial light on my skeleton
and slaps printed across my face.
this deceitful place.
with obscure deceptions on every corner.
this circle of life really is bittersweet.
day is kind and night is not.
when the gangsters come out.
when mommy and daddy aren’t so ecstatic.
when brooklyn is authentic.
and your snow-white blouse feels tight.
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 1:55 PM UTC
Amongst the multitude of solitudnal whims
I carry within,
Down to you, forgotten.
A youth that's fighting,
refusing to succumb to the delicacies
of an aging core.
The dream of love renewed,
The ambiance of it.
The life of a thousand nights of falling star
wishes and programmed dreams.
A chance within our grasps.
Mirrors.
Desolately has my soul resided in this
phantasmal reality of dull referendum,
misunderstood.
Neglected, rejected, tortured, hurt,
and broken.
I remain hidden.
A cool calm collected exterior.
The world sees me,
or so it thinks.
Hilarious hideousness.
My deceptions so simple.
Smoke and mirrors, magician I am.
Humor the powerful blinding agent
of stares, opinions, and gossip.
I laugh internally as the world judges me.
Forms its superficial egotistical
repressed opinions of me.
Do you..... see me true?
Can you.....will you ever chose to?
Demonic presence ever near, trying to **** me.
Have I fear?.........No, I have no fear!
© Crystal Erickson 11/24/07
Dec 24, 2014
Dec 24, 2014 at 10:32 AM UTC
Ferris wheeling on a weekend night
flying, open minds out of sight.
Puff and round, and whistle bombs
are throwing back some mem'ries
now we're going back to the start.
and they're dancing at night time
and your taking a bite.
now you're seeing the purpose of your life
lies and deceptions arise.
Now you're showing some love to me
and it's making us free
see the stars come shining down you see,
what you mean to me.
Ferris wheeling on a weekend night
flying high in an open sky.
Ferris wheeling on a weekend night
flying high with an open mind.
Oct 21, 2013
Oct 21, 2013 at 2:00 AM UTC
She will prevail
It can hurt
To have one's integrity or honor
Questioned
She lives life
By her own rules
As the roads of life's journey
Are often like a maze
Filled with twists and turns
Leaving one confused and dazed
As one navigates their way
Through the labyrinth of life
Hard lessons are learned
One must live by
Their own rules
As they wade through
The deceptions and lies
Thrown their way by life
She rises above the petite hurts
And false accusations
Knowing the truth
Whether it is known to all
Or buried deeply inside
That she will prevail
May 8, 2015
May 8, 2015 at 9:23 PM UTC
a family album
perhaps especially
or happenstance discovery..
breathless vistas
seashore places
evening laughter gatherings
stark recognitions not
mistaken..
precision abiding..
and then
sudden emergences from
nowhere..
habitual viewing torn
prompting new explorations
awakening patterns unseen..
iceberg revelations
now realizing our settling
assumptions
deceptions and unexpected
origins..
other slices
parabolic mysteries
left and right..
perfect picture now..?
Jun 16, 2012
Jun 16, 2012 at 3:25 PM UTC
Longing for an intimate connection
But I don't have patience for emotional misconceptions
Hording what you call love
At the pinnacle is just numb
A mental blockage that needs a shove
To cooperate with the blind, deaf, and dumb
When you can see, listen, and communicate
Can darken what you're try to illuminate
Fickle misunderstandings dwell in physical connections
They oppose the facade of mental perceptions
Which lead the spirit to deceptions
If this is focusing because of the poetic logic
I only love you physical so you can put it mentally behind you
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 11:03 AM UTC
Golden words penned long ago
when I was young and zesty
occupied with lofty things
perhaps a lot less testy.
That which clouds my vision
tragic losses which destroyed
sweet perceptions
dark deceptions
left me underjoyed.
Of boyfriends unattainable
rejection would then smite
the hope of finding love,
which left me
just a bit uptight.
in the stretch to earn a living
well my boss is kind of rough
In trying to say something nice I'm on ice
cuz she's hard-headed, driving, and tough.
The high cost of living and then there's the tax
puts a strain on my old bank account
but that backbiting backriding queen battleaxe
can jump from the ground to the mount.
and every day's the same old thing
like a hamster on the wheel
the same old thing is looking old
and I’m feeling cold as steel.
but still I ignore the passing of time
and balance hard work with clean fun
and believing that this is as good as it gets
I'll settle for less than the one.
seeking distraction from everything dull
and attracted to that which you are
I read self help books while you eats what I cooks
and you're lost in the Harper's Bazaar.
My cellulite was ill replete
and disappointments grew
and long before the smog moved in
it choked the thrill from you.
and out of this stress comes the need to digress
so we sleep and we play and we drink
and we drain our desires and ***** up our wires
and leave our *** life on the brink.
Simple amusements, the clutter of things
common to man and his beast
from the pretense of knowledge and so many things
to the Thanksgiving holiday feast.
And now we're blown out, you lie and I shout
there's a palpable distance that's haunted
I long for the day when you'd hold me and say
that I'm the THE ONE you've always wanted.
But now mediocre, you opt to play poker
and run with a sweatpool of stink
and hoping to find something good on the street
in the morning you feel like a fink.
Left to your own devices
sleeping soundly, your heart's one desire
for passion it waits, while the office debates
and will do so until you expire.
Displacing my anger I'm less satisfied
and will never see straight, as you'll see
my own crooked finger was put through the wringer
and now it points straight back at me.
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 11:16 PM UTC
"In 21 days you will not cry anymore" they said.
Still I feel like a knife is inside of me and I can't escape.
My first broken heart,
"the most painful but the most helful" they exclamed.
My first broken heart, and I'm feeling like the world is going to end.
My first broken heart, why he did that to me?
My first broken heart, did he really loved me?
My first broken heart, I can't stop dreaming about him.
My first broken heart, please don't leave me.
My first broken heart, I don't want you in my dreams. It hurts me
My first broken heart, I'm drowning on my own tears.
My first broken heart, I can't even sleep now.
My first broken heart, I swear I love you, I'm sorry that you hurt me.
My first broken heart, I hate you, but I love you and I hate myself now.
My first broken heart, She was my friend.
My first broken heart, maybe this pills helps me sleep.
My first broken heart, where is my ****
My first broken heart, my blood is turning into alcohol.
My first broken heart, he's not the boy I thought he were.
My first broken heart:
"Mama he's a good guy, he really is, but I don't know why he did that to me" I said.
"If he did that to you then he wasn't good. Deceptions are so painful, baby girl. I swear you're gonna find someone good. Someone who only loves you" She hugged me till I cry into my sleep.
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 6:03 PM UTC
It is within this rock I sit
Encased in regret, solidified guilt mortality
Hurt friend’s tear drops etch’d
Dead for all sense and purpose
Shifting on ancient sand’s sorrow
Blistered by dire gale forces breathing
Stoic between cracks in the lies
Weathering at rapid paces of mistaken footsteps
A mausoleum of loneliness
Branded with hot iron’d deceptions
Deafened of heartbreak earthquake tremors
Hammer and chiseled contaminates
Crushed bits of worthless rubble
Scattered in anguish’d apologies
****** by stupidity…
...dust on the wind
Feb 19, 2014
Feb 19, 2014 at 9:53 AM UTC
My body is a temple
Destroyed
Crumbling
Broken
Worshiping inner demons and external pleasures
The pursuit of glory through the forbidden fruit
A blood sacrifice is demanded
By a god at the altar
But there is nothing holy about this
The only heaven I will ever find
Is in beaded red lines
I confess my sins to thee
But there are no answers to my prayers
There is no one to answer to
Higher powers have forgotten me
I have forsaken me
And there is no grace in pain
No forgiveness in punishment
And no God to blame for my sins
As I kneel adorned with my own crown of thorns
Constructed from my own deceptions and faults
I wonder why the only person willing to die for my sins
Is me
Apr 24, 2018
Apr 24, 2018 at 11:55 PM UTC
i am
outcast
beyond the boundaries
of peripheral inception
idly sated by
inquisitive deceptions
which, while whispering
envelope definition
to the point of being formless
almost a
liquid interrogative
which
penetrates the seams
so stitches stretch
like singing strings
in overtures of
softly deranged
tranquilities
Aug 6, 2014
Aug 6, 2014 at 8:55 PM UTC