"deluded" poems
Its a scam, its a scam, see the Crimson Gang deftly scamming them
They by sleight have befuddled gullible masses Moral Compass
Made them see wrong as right twisting their brains from the stem
With deceitful guile they shepherded them all to the fools' campus
Slander and fake News galore fed to vacant hungry masses scrum
Knowledge is power the reprobates declares, do not let it pass
We're the majority the bullies screams, knowing they're just scums
Worthless charlatans who rob successes and **** without cutlass
They take a foregone conclusion and coat it with fool's gold crumb
A victim with no intention of going after an uninterested lass
Dumb masses fed fake news fooled into harassing actions dumb
A non-event becomes a show of the controlling might of our class
Crimson gangs interpret a non-events from his deluded sad drum
Creates a warped sick drama round a hapless victim for laughs
Gives street theater actions to masses, these will oppose and numb
Whilst poor victim subjected to 'voiding' madness wonders past
The Crimson leaders laugh so much like pirates drinking ***
Look how we manipulate the masses, they are so simple and crass
With our devious twisting propaganda they eat out of our ***
We simply use them to nail and crucify our victim to the cross
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 4:50 PM UTC
The wrath inside you boils from your rage;
your anger elevates to drown your sense.
My blindness has deluded me as sage,
serene and irreproachably intense.
It’s likely that my passive nature’s pushing
my little brother, you, – who hates that term –
straight to hear discordant, silent ringing
as wrath’s contorted demon crisply worms
into your weakened ear to fill your mind
with bubbles, red, and bursting sound, and DARK –
which spread like darkened dust-storms into mine.
That ready wrath, red and quick to spark
burns best those minds invulnerable to sin –
such smug-singed souls sink – slaves to self-delusion.
Jul 18, 2012
Jul 18, 2012 at 1:08 AM UTC
I listen to them as they mouth your name;
and I see
how deluded,
how hypnotic,
how enchanted and consumed
they talk of your ways and,
how the stars in their pupils beam with a radiance of such pure awe.
Your words hang loose off the tops of their tounges and their lips drool in your glaze.
Your lazy features, your so electric but so infuriating charm -
sends them mindless, locks them in your illusion.
So it’s then
I try to burn every
sheet of paper which ink prints your presence,
inside these desperate shelves which fold upon each heartstring.
My ears attempt to block it out.
Instead they replay every song
that has ever left your lips.
And my eyes deceive me as they scatter
a particle of you on every surface of life I encounter.
My mind echoes every laugh you created in my streams.
Then I paint every colour you ever erupted within me,
in thick black.
As they mouth your name,
every trace of you with anyone but me,
causes my hands to pull through my gut,
and hammer down any of these ******* deceptive daydreams
that you have me trapped me in.
And then so easily, one by one,
debris of my heart crumble like rain
down your window,
down each vein.
Apr 7, 2018
Apr 7, 2018 at 6:45 PM UTC
There is a young lady called Anna. She is a loner. She lives alone with her two cats. They are her world. I am a cat lover myself and have 2 little cuties in my nest. But these cats are just plain feral. They terrorise the other cats in the neighbourhood and **** in all the neighbours’ garden.
She works Monday to Friday for a recruitment company. She leaves her flat in a purple Mazda convertible which is renowned for being a Hairdresser’s (AKA dumb **** car. Every day she leaves at 7.30am on the dot and every day she arrives home at 7.15pm on the dot.
Once at home she turns on her TV cinema system (sub), just to watch the TV.
*****
At the weekend she also leaves her stinking putrid ******* bags out in the communal hallway.
*****
She ignores her neighbour’s knocking on her door. She ignores the notes that they put through her letterbox.
*****
So as Anna was not willing to speak to her neighbours directly. They had no other way to turn apart from to report her to Environmental Health for playing her TV cinema system (sub) too loudly and also for the disgusting ******* that she regularly leaves out in the communal hallway.
*****
In which she returns the compliment by reporting them (said neighbours) to the Environmental Health for:
1) Shouting at each other,
2) Talking too loudly,
3) Banging kitchen utensils on the floor when she is in her kitchen
How deluded is this *****
At the same time that her neighbours reported Anna to the Environmental Health they also spoke to the Community Support Officer. They advised them to contact the Mediators in their local area. Which of course they did. The Mediators arranged to visit one evening. Unbeknownst to them they parked in Anna’s allocated parking space. Once they had finished with her neighbours, the Mediators returned to their car. Just as they were about to reverse their car, Anna arrived home in her Mazda convertible and blocked them in.
*****
When she got out of the Mazda convertible, with attitude I might add, she asked the Mediators who they were. They then introduced themselves. Once she knew who they were, she invited them into her flat to hear her side on the story.
YES I AM HER ******* NEIGHBOUR AND YES I AM STILL WAITING TO HEAR BACK FROM THE MEDIATORS……
Jan 30, 2010
Jan 30, 2010 at 11:21 PM UTC
Stand up on top of your castle
Watch all the pretty lights dance
Come down to join in the party
Trip out and dance
Lucy makes everyone happy
But confused
The outside world is fun one
But inside
There's a whole nother fun you can use
Psychedelics will open your mind
To the world outside
and the one within
Which are both seperate
and the same
You can't just be focused on the outside,
The pretty things,
The fame
Inside it is beautiful,
Spiritual
Quiet and secluded
With too much outside
Your brain can get deluded
X and acid, TCB
DXM and DMT
**** and *****
All the drugs you use
Can be abused
That bass can make you lose your mind
Go blind
With all the bright lights
Until your mind's not the only thing you can't find
Unwind
Sit inside Zack's truck
And take some down time
Get your mind unstuck
This place is beautiful
These people are trippin
But if I see one more hot ***
I'm gonna lose my loose grip
and
****** is not sexuality
Peace, Love, Unity, Respect
Help you out when you need it
What's given out is given back
Aesthetic
is a beautiful
but
overwhelming
experience.
Jun 20, 2010
Jun 20, 2010 at 8:51 PM UTC
The river is polluted
The skies are grey in falling night
The stars are hidden from our sight
Constellations convoluted
Bilge water and bile
Corrupted hearts so vile
Defile of a sacred form
This is not divine
Only desecration
The river is polluted
The seeds we plant do not survive
And even life is doomed to die
The trees are all uprooted
We want the leaves
We want the flowers
We want the scent of the forest
The river is polluted
Our dismay is all man-made
Unwholesome branch that holds no shade
Our hope for shelter all eluted
Brackish is the water
Swim if you care to drown
We take giant gulps
Deluded with hope
And still we die of thirst
Jul 8, 2016
Jul 8, 2016 at 5:09 AM UTC
When the kill-shot kills not, the dead lions don’t roar.
They become the ghost in the dark, silent yet present.
Like power, real power, stealth in tall green grasses,
they watch
the victory dances and gleeful prances of deluded preys.
Beware!! Be not carried away.
Look into the eyes of the golden flames,
See their manes –Alive!!
In the fog of night’s peaceful fade.
©Belema .S. Ekine
©belemascribbles
Apr 20, 2018
Apr 20, 2018 at 9:32 AM UTC
Silently the social media hero strikes again
The swift and ruthless keyboard warrior
Crushing political correctness
Debunking liberal drivel
Overpowering the opinions of the obsolete
He grows and grows
With every post
And tweets make him feel
Like the torrent of thoroughness
Raging through a landscape
That needs to be cleansed
Outside lies a hostile world
With prying, judging eyes
Online, a world of possibilities
Where virtual battle cries
Are the prelude of a rally
Between the devoid and the deluded
But through his own gaze
Focused on the reflection
On the computer screen
A social media hero rises
While outside, the world passes him by
Aug 30, 2016
Aug 30, 2016 at 5:26 AM UTC
You’re drunk
And I don’t need this
Right now.
You can’t see it
Can you?
My hands
Trembling,
My voice
Cracking,
When I
Try to
Tell you
Not to
Touch me.
On the verge
Of tears,
You are
Deluded.
I can smell
The toxicity
Of the alcohol
In your breath
And I
Don’t recognise
Your eyes.
There’s something
Different,
About the way
You slur
Your words
And,
Loll your head
Against
My back
As I try
To push you
Away.
You don’t ******* get it,
That it kills me inside,
That a lot of nights I cannot sleep
Trauma
Paranoia
I worry till my bones ache
And I can’t feel my legs.
Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 3:21 AM UTC
cheap perfume, dreadful news, i pay my dues while
miss drunk and deluded decides to trip all over my shoes
i'm her champagne flush, a nicotine rush, and her unrequited crush
but the only thing i ever notice is how the crowds hush
when you start humming tunes, singing blues, like you always do
your smile subtle, warm, holding far more joy than it ever used to
i sold your ring to the highest bidder, but my best friend actually likes you
he persuaded me to donate it all, it’s what you would've wanted me to do
so while tonight is all cheap perfume, dreadful news, and paying dues
when miss drunk and deluded once again steps all over my poor shoes
it's easy to smile and stay calm because i'm drunk and deluded, too
and when i dance with my eyes closed, i am slow waltzing with you
Jun 14, 2023
Jun 14, 2023 at 2:07 PM UTC
Today
anybody is the right body,
taut and lean,
exploiting youth.
Flesh is flesh on flesh,
smooth and seamless.
Making love is not love;
purely a fabrication that lures in
any susceptible soul
with salty, passionate promises.
Bodies fall victim to bodies,
deluded by ecstasy
over and over
and over again.
Though they may release a double negative
at some point in time,
lips never lie.
Dec 5, 2011
Dec 5, 2011 at 1:56 AM UTC
Teri Payal Agar Chhanak Jaye*
Gardish-e-Asmaan Titthak Jaye
If your anklets, made a sound
Spinning of heavens, would pause
Tere Hansne Ki Kaifiyat Tauba
Jaise Bijli Chamak Chamak Jaye
Nature of your laughter, God forbid!
Like bolts and flashes, lightning draws
Teri Gardan Ka Tazkira Sun Kar
Jo Surahi Hai Woh Chhalak Jaye
Hearing, portrayal of your neck
Even a goglet, overflows
Le Agar Jhoom Kar Tu Angrai
Zindagi Daar Par Latak Jaye
Twirling, if you pandiculate
Existence, would hang by the ropes
Choor Hai Aise Paakpan Tera
Jaise Das Das Ke Saamp Thak Jaye
Broken to atoms is your innocence
Like once bitten fatigue a snake shows
Teri Ankhoon Ko Dekh Paiye Agar
*Jo Farishta ** Woh Bahak Jaye*
If one wins to see your eyes
Even an angelic, deluded grows
✒ Translated by ℐamil Hussain , Sung by Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan
Dec 14, 2017
Dec 14, 2017 at 5:40 AM UTC
thank god, above all
me, born in age of female equality evolution
in any other age
me, a slave
confined by financial, educational and social inequality
fueled by power deluded women-peons
leaving mountains and dungeons in passing
tears of blood
shed by disillusioned soul
instinctively knowing,
i can create my own destiny
life time spend achieving
smoothing the road for future daughters
BUT
satans has intervened once more
present daughters do not value
their priceless inheritance
many squander it, willingly
but few remain
with noble footing
instinctively calling out, to higher power
uneducated, still knowing
god exist, he is watching
and my inner strength comes from my creator
who created for a purpose
hail the king of kings
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 4:59 AM UTC
The Sounding Foam of Primal Things
*(The title and the poem, taken from and inspired by
Carl Sandburg's "Who Am I?")
wind and rain pound the surf.
snow falls on the beach, on the shore.
man-observer cannot tell:
has the earth gone mad, all wet?
do the seas rise, whipped up, filling the heavens,
or does the white rain replenishes the very body,
from whence it came, and now returns?
this matters greatly, yet nothing answers this, his question.
the furious soundings, the green foam churn,
the silence of no response inebriates,
drunk on the tempest's hard wet liquor,
weighed down, sodden with the despair,
solitude, silence, absent answers,
his natural walking companions!
No Stopping signs on almost every corner,
Do Not Pass, Do Not Enter,
One Way, Two Way, No Thru Passage,
but the one sign he seeks,
"Stay On The Path" absent.
Eluded,
dispassionate endings,
the essential quietude among
furious surround-sounds of creative destruction
he ceases to ask, for unanswered, undirected.
Concluded,
either
their is no one listening, or,
there is no one caring, or,
Deluded,
illusion is truth,
he is an illusion.
------------------
Feb 14, 2014
Feb 14, 2014 at 10:57 PM UTC
Hell, isn't it?
Your insides yearning to flee.
Don't give me that look, you ****
You deluded yourself, not me.
Didn't I warn you?
Didn't I tell you to stop?
But you said you could handle it.
You said you'll never tap.
But why is this house now empty?
Where did the warmth go?
I told you it will never be easy.
But you opted to start the show.
Now you left me with nothing.
As you ran yourself to hide.
You just proved again what a fool I am.
For trusting you sublime.
Nov 9, 2015
Nov 9, 2015 at 4:19 PM UTC
The professions of our leaders are paraded across longitudinal and latitudinal vistas. However, I have to ask: Whatever happened to the possession of that which is professed in our contemporary shell of delusion?
A princess may depart from her Celtic docks in order to sail back to her Anglican roots; and the fabric of high society may display an appealing veneer which covers explicit nakedness in the name of mass psychology.
So, my articulate propagate of conformity, I urge you to don the profound tuxedo at your avoidant desire. But please do not seek for me to enter into the denial of our core identity.
For those who are willing to rock this boat of ludicrous salesmanship, I raise my glass to testicular rectitude which transcends gender stereotypes.
Nov 17, 2013
Nov 17, 2013 at 9:55 PM UTC
∙∙∙◦◦•◎•◦◦∙∙∙
The dawn of daybreak
soldiers in full armor
I am in aim,
ready for battle
trumpets flung up high
a chant of war arises
With a full force we run
up roaring,
and I trust in no one
carrying pride my side
and all I am,
a child with promises
In my mind was anger
heart wants revenge
unknowingly,
I'm beginning to falter
the enemy took-
my vigor's and strength
Deluded I fall out
losing hopes,
and fear was all about,
vultures circled
darkness hovered
blame was all around
But on the Sky...
A light seeks below
I cried out to the Lord,
a second chance
from the agony I bare,
give me a revelation
out of this lamentation
Then He told me,
Give me all of you
& I'll show you wonders
you never even knew,
visions of truth
For I am, Who I am
The Beginning, The End
And the light took me-
far and away
and the mist has filled-
my heart
behold a greater glory
has come forth
My faith begins again
night turned to day
I have fought the fight
He Crowned Me...
A Tomorrow
victory has won its price
Jul 27, 2017
Jul 27, 2017 at 9:59 AM UTC
Where are my stone cold optimist
Roll call all positive no hostages
I feed of the energy in my approximate vicinity
Then whole world will know an optimist
Gather your belongings and meet me at the rocket ship
Yes truly I will be with the hostages taking roll call all positive
Sergent! no hostages are in
Thats work for an optimist
Blood and sweat my middle name
Thats an optimist riding a rocket ship
Our heart beats so hard numbing our veins
Thats a maddening fit
But you know how sweet victory is for an optimist
Take is easy simpleton optimist
Real optimist be like oh yeah smiling in there hearts
All positive not a negated positive deluded optimist
The End
Sep 12, 2014
Sep 12, 2014 at 1:05 PM UTC
An irrefutable dream,
fulfilled tenfold in the illusion
made imperfect by dreamers' oblivion,
sought by the delver of selves.
Rejection of messengers,
the hive of deluded apathy
that saturates the air thick with the droning of silent hesitation
hexagonal compartmentalization,
sundering your cedar carapace,
which cancerous excess shatters,
and only cracks remain;
the afterthoughts of paradise
and undiscovered paths of depression,
an anxious exodus of life-force.
Part thine red sea,
lest plate tectonics make waves,
that cause molecules of hemoglobin to disperse in light,
the crimson tears of a soul,
sweeter than the lips coveted.
Dec 25, 2012
Dec 25, 2012 at 2:10 AM UTC
The undeniable sense of presence, seen through the realms of deception...
Amidst the very capillaries strung infinitesimally throughout our bodies...
Overwhelming at times, the very concept cripples our thoughts,
Circling us back to seemingly endless questions -
Endless roads without a point of reference,
Leaving us standing in a dark crowded space searching for the unreachable light...
Yet, the meaning behind the unseen presence forces the deluded mind to forge on -
Stretching our morbid ideals even further...
Leaving us the inhibited beings we possess...
Still concluding at plebeian answers -
Fitting, yet discouraging...
The common capacity of our restraining thought process, leaves us almost hopeless to accumulate the information needed to fulfill our determining destination...
But it is that feeling,
That inkling sensation of the undeniable presence that keeps us searching -
That gives us hope...
And in that minute innovative state we dwell on what could be...
Sep 13, 2012
Sep 13, 2012 at 9:05 PM UTC
.
Henry VIII was a deluded monarch,
he could never have ruled the Earth,
for he hasn't seen his **** for years,
hiding beneath the bulk of his girth.
And wobbling onto the battle field
is not the behaviour fit for a King,
he would have to sit nursing his cysts
and hoping the ointments don't sting.
His eating excess was cause for concern
but his syphilis remained largely unseen,
and one really has to feel so sorry for
whomever it is that is currently Queen.
His penchant for young and younger Ladies
made him a stranger to baths and soap,
and his bed hopping antics to sire a son
bought him much trouble from the pope.
© Pagan Paul (09/12/18)
Dec 9, 2018
Dec 9, 2018 at 5:13 PM UTC
The stage is set
--
VULNERABLE
( the name of the play)
___
We are all completely deluded
There is no reality here
We are an invaded humanity
Yet you cry for love
WHY?
Are you in such a hurry to get married and have children?
--
I don't think so
So why this crazed concern about *** and love
Actually
This is a question you might do well
To try answer
--
VULNERABLE
Yes
A razor to your wrist makes you feel vulnerable
Drunk
Naked
******
(vulnerable)
BUT
To say:
**** this shit I'm outta here till
The
TRUTH is completely revealed
And to call your classmates to join you?
This you do not do!
TOO VULNERABLE ?
You tell me
---
Its nearly sunset
Then comes night
And the dawn
What will you call upon?
What challenge will you fulfill?
PUT DOWN YOUR ******* RAZOR BLADE
THERE'S ENOUGH BLOOD ALREADY HERE
And not enough of your true self
Jul 29, 2013
Jul 29, 2013 at 9:17 PM UTC
In the face of persecution, one can drift away into dreamy fabrications of swishing and gorgeous hairstyles – jealous of the seagull as it dismounts the lofty perch of the streetlight and gracefully swoops away into the distance.
The moment of self-loathing and raging sabotage is nothing more than a serial false loyalty.
I validate your alphabet where there is simplicity within the intricate complexities, and where the yearling suckles the lactations of its mother.
Trauma has pre-natal connections where silent screams ripple throughout eternity. Therefore, calmly observe the stiff upper lip of deluded professionalism, and describe the realistic mirage before you. Participation in laughter is not always rooted in sincerity.
Nov 7, 2013
Nov 7, 2013 at 10:40 PM UTC