"deluding" poems
Was it worth 2 minutes of lustless ignominy
A misogynist practising polygamy
Years were hacked
Walls that were built with purpose
Everything said was fallacious and deluding
Pure gratification
Eating to feel full and drinking to get drunk
Heaven forbid I say you're just like the rest. The rest are just like you.
Mar 17, 2013
Mar 17, 2013 at 12:29 PM UTC
delicate and limp
they lie between the spaces
amongst hard print on factual papers;
occasionally unrealistic figments
of self deluding fantasy.
“they’re luxuries”, you mumbled,
a lament towards their rare materialization
in your few hours of slumber;
the soft impression leading souls
up the garden path,
misleading for they were
not all that pleasant.
midway after sunset
your heavy breathing is the
silence i hear; your silhouette
limp against the amber lights.
they came once again,
desperation had come
once again.
you squinted into the distant darkness,
“oddities veiled by a coat of blur,
though a fantasy felt as tangible
as the touch of skin;
i’d fall endlessly down the pit.
most of all, pathetically i had no one to
catch me.”
Oct 26, 2014
Oct 26, 2014 at 6:27 AM UTC
I enjoy to walk
Alone in the dark
As the sun falters
And the moon shines and lusters
Bright from its ebony coat
And with every step an echo
So rythmically in tune
It matches my heart beating
As grasp in reality
Ever so loose
I ponder on monsters
Who called themselves men
On what twisted them to fiends
And brought them to change?
Is it treason that warped their hearts?
Maybe a lost love who crushed their ilusion?
Perhaps loneliness brought them this stupor?
Whatever it is that brought them so low
It destroyed their will, it broke their soul.
I ponder on love
I wonder how short it tends to be
And how we dwell on its loss
The suffering it brings.
How easy is it to feel a spark
To bring us from the brink of despair
Just to feel it´s mark
And where there was life, now there´s air.
And my thoughts grow darker
And my pace faster
Anticipating disaster
My eyes widen
I feel as if beset by spies
Who stalk from the shadows
Ready to strike
And I see it...
It is no spy
A beast before me
Clad in black
Eyes in red crimson
Stare sat me back
It fills me fright
I try to run
But stand paralized
My legs betray me
And the beast approches
With its back arched
And talons sharp
Holding me still
With its eyes...
It glared at me deeply
Almost feels pity
And whispers to me
"I am a monument to all you hold dear
For you clasp failure with a tight grip
It took a form in the being that before you stands
And is fear what drives forward
Not any feeling of pride
Deluding yourself in betterment
Inside you are nothing but lies"
I came to my knees
And I began to weep
The monster had tore my resolve
But deep within me
I could still feel
A shimmer, a last ray of hope
I can´t let it win
So I came to my feet
And stared and the brute
Clad in blackness so thick
It could block out the sun
And it´s shape had no shape
It twists and it warps
That piercing red stare
That stared straight to my soul
I said to the thing
"It is true what you say
It seems I can´t escape
From the mire of the past
The more I remain
The harder my escape
And the farther the distance
From achieving my plans
An edifice of failure
Given mortal nature
But mortal you are
All that is mortal can die
And when you do
I´ll be back to life"
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 10:19 PM UTC
Colours
Like you've never seen before
Blind these lost souls
As
To the music they sway
Their carefully sculpted hips
Banishing
Any thoughts
That endeavour to stray
Into their fickle minds
Between sips
Lips
That curve
Into phony smiles
Citing pitiful attempts
At humour
What are they hoping
To achieve here?
What are they hoping
To find?
I think
I'm going to stop deluding myself now
I'm going to go look for my own kind.
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 2:10 PM UTC
Fair lovely Maid, or if that Title be
Too weak, too Feminine for Nobler thee,
Permit a Name that more Approaches Truth:
And let me call thee, Lovely Charming Youth.
This last will justifie my soft complaint,
While that may serve to lessen my constraint;
And without Blushes I the Youth persue,
When so much beauteous Woman is in view.
Against thy Charms we struggle but in vain
With thy deluding Form thou giv'st us pain,
While the bright Nymph betrays us to the Swain.
In pity to our *** sure thou wer't sent,
That we might Love, and yet be Innocent:
For sure no Crime with thee we can commit;
Or if we shou'd - thy Form excuses it.
For who, that gathers fairest Flowers believes
A Snake lies hid beneath the Fragrant Leaves.
Though beauteous Wonder of a different kind,
Soft Cloris with the dear Alexis join'd;
When e'er the Manly part of thee, wou'd plead
Though tempts us with the Image of the Maid,
While we the noblest Passions do extend
The Love to Hermes, Aphrodite the Friend.v
1.9k
insidious...
the forces that bend us toward self-destruction
insidious...
the illusions that feed those malevolent forces
insidious...
the stories that construct those obscuring illusions
insidious...
the thoughts that metastasize into those deluding stories
insidious...
the mind that identifies with those detrimental thoughts
innocent...
the soul that succumbs
Mar 28, 2014
Mar 28, 2014 at 12:07 PM UTC
Perfection doesn’t exist
It’s a non-existing standard we can define by nothing more than our desperation and pursuit of completion
It’s deluding and is painful to bare, in fact letting of go of it opens up so many pores of acceptance and contentment without hindering ones ambition of aspiration
One shouldn’t go with the other
Perfection is not meant to go hand in hand with ambition
In fact the healthiest more achievable form of ambition is that which exist without the *********** of perfection in its walls and foundation
Ambition is healthy, the idea of perfection on the other hand is dangerous and so mythological that it causes a great deal of inadequacy to those that still hold on to its empty promises.
Let us produce great results, great being the profound collective exchange between good and bad, happy and sad, what is positive and what is negative
These are not opposing forces, that’s what perfection has convinced us of, they are parallel systems of reality that make and break it equally, as one cannot exist without the other in specific instance
Belief in perfection is as dangerous in a mentally ill person’s conviction to jump off a sky scrapper believing he can fly, it’s becomes more damaging the more we believe in it.
Perfection is not peaceful it is stagnant, it’s monotonous and deceptive
In fact perfection is cruel because it convinces is of a reality we seek and pursue when we can’t even imagine
It has no beginning nor an ending because that’d process and progress
Meaning perfection in a reality of progress never was and will never be but doesn’t want you to believe that, in fact the only thing that brought perfection into conception and gave it the nerve to even exist in our reality as the theory it exists on is the falsehood it’s made a home of in our hearts and in our souls, that’s why it’s hard to imagine but even harder to get rid of and eradicate.
Mar 21, 2019
Mar 21, 2019 at 4:13 AM UTC
Let’s dream of a place,
In between spaces of space
In this whimsical hour
Watch how time devour,
Our lyrical tryst
Amidst the winter mist
Sharing dream amid the flowers
for a couple of hours
The dreams in which I'm dying
Or rather just denying
Deluding the petty mind
Of the worldly grind
It’s a beautiful day
So dazed, we just lay
Birds and bees won’t disturb us,
While our thoughts turn incongruous
We’ll forget that we are even real
It’ll all be too surreal.
You open your eyes to say
Out comes only a pray
Slowly the dusk beckons
Breaking your heart it’s gone;
Gasping desires
Dreams on a pyre.
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 10:52 AM UTC
Simple questions deserve simple answers.
For that is the way life runs,
The simpleness of a subject is complemented by something much more simpler.
So why is it,
When this question surfaces in the minds of every writer,
There is nothing simple to it.
The reason for writing is as simple as it can be.
It is like painting on a canvas board,
For every stroke of the paintbrush is a stroke of words
Painting vivid images in the minds of every boy and girl.
We as writers are giving life to the lifeless lines of paper.
For even when it's blank,
There is still an image painted through words.
The greatest invention mankind could ever think of is words.
For without them,
Nothing could ever exist.
Without the simpleness of screaming out how blue the sky is
Or how soft those clouds look,
Or even how beautiful a starry night sky can be,
How can we
Ever appreciate the beauty writers create on canvas boards.
For every written word on a blank sheet of paper,
Is a stroke of paint,
Creating magnificence inside a dull mind
My good sir,
When asking a writer their reason for writing should be as simple as this
But
If its too complex for your mind to comprehend,
Then, let me simplify it further.
When you ask an artist their reason for creating art,
You are merely asking their reason for existing
Asking why they are deluding themselves on such strange fantasies
But you have yet to realize the true nature of us artists
We find many ways to escape harsh realities
Creating picture perfect paradises
Or even amplifying how gruesome society can be.
The reason for writing should be as simple as this.
For the simpleness of a subject should be complemented with something much more simpler.
But if it's too complex for you,
The reason why writers write is as simple as this,
Writers are artists and therefore write to create art,
Like taking a single paintbrush and painting on a canvas board
We as writers take a single pencil and write on blank sheets of paper.
Sep 27, 2012
Sep 27, 2012 at 2:12 AM UTC
I'm sick of the fall
when I try to fly
I'm sick of the let-downs
and regular goodbyes
I'm sick of the lying
scheming and deceiving
sick of depression
illness and under-eating
I'm tired of living
in a misshapen society
I'm tired of myself
and my constant anxiety
I can't help but think
if I just slipped away
would anyone care
or ask me to stay?
For he says I'm his love
then leaves the next day
meets another dreadful hook-up
and presumes I'm okay
Well, I'm done with the deluding
I'm done with the cheating
I'm done with my heart
and I'm done with its beating.
Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 9:04 AM UTC
I don’t believe you.
There’s no way you could have
fended off those velociraptors
and their inter-dimensional captors
with a spork and a water gun.
No, you didn’t go into the matrix,
or find an heirloom of the Norse,
or find a cure for when your throat gets hoarse.
You most certainly did not bring forth
Satan with a glass-blown tuning fork
and those pictures you have are photoshopped.
A seismograph cannot detect a pulse
from that distance, you would have to be close,
so it did not help you defeat the devil,
which you’re undoubtedly making up as well.
You cannot throw marshmallows
into black holes, you would be crushed
by the gravity, far sooner than pushed
within marshmallowing range.
You did not **** nor disembowel
a mutant roll of paper towel
nor did you invent the interrobang.
I wish you would just please quit trying
to convince me that you came back from dying
especially after you weren’t mauled by a bobcat.
You did not inject yourself with nanobots,
or anonymously author a Times Best-Seller
about the struggling wife of a poor bank teller.
Stop deluding yourself, Johnny, it was only a dream.
Son, go back to sleep.
Oct 26, 2011
Oct 26, 2011 at 4:56 PM UTC
Was it
The floating black clouds?
Or the passing fresh breeze?
Maybe was it the roaring wind
Along with
The flaming old-gold color sun?
Yet it sure was the splattering cold rain,
I often caught in his glance
That could describe him and his pain.
His hair was careless
His behavior reckless
But his eyes hopeless
And his kiss tasteless.
The world’s illusions
Submerged people into confusion,
Deluding him who often had hope
To cope
With love and living.
But as all the things breathing
It too dies with the moments
Leaving people in all kinds of disappointments.
Nov 26, 2018
Nov 26, 2018 at 6:24 PM UTC
They can't tell what's wrong with you from the outside. They can't tell what's wrong with you from the outside. They can't tell what's wrong with you.
Is my illness truly invisible?
Or am I just deluding myself again?
My thoughts are racing, falling, tumbling,
maybe their right to call me insane.
Don't ask me to speak because I don't want to;
words don't mean a thing any more
Instead I write and write onto sheets of white
into the abyss my heart is poured.
I hear their screams in my head all the time
a pleading in my ear,
I'm the one who's living this hell
so why is it me you fear?
I carry on breathing everyday
despite the creatures living inside
and I will keep living in every way
until one day I don't even cry.
Aug 31, 2015
Aug 31, 2015 at 4:01 PM UTC
Desire the sound or hope,
deluding minds in darkness.
Daunting through its scope,
deluged no more in tartness.
Elope into the morrow,
envelop me with reason.
Enclose me now in sorrow,
easing against the legion.
Longs for succulent remonstration,
laying waste to ardent night.
Lopsided in spurn demonstration,
languid with delight.
Only now will I protest,
owning nothing less.
Opening now I detest,
one more time to bless.
©Michael P. Smith
Mar 18, 2013
Mar 18, 2013 at 10:22 PM UTC
You Gonna be Cursed, Ain't Nothing You Can Do...
*Dedicated to those who understand
That if you look at life askew,
Then your head will likely be
******* on straight and your
Poetry will set you free
And help me too, stay that way*
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
**You are refrained, restrained,
Unconsciously, the wire inserted right thru
Your eyes when wide awake and
You sucker, oblivious, clueless are...**
When older you'll blah blah blah,
Understand, realize,
Cause you will be accursed
With cautionary tales,
Wisdom from cowardly fools,
Familiar with the stupor of life,
a/k/a, experience,
Symptom but one, over-caution.
With the caution that comes from
Stubbing your toe, losing your job oh no,
Getting ****** the night before before,
The most important day of whatever more,
Marrying the wrong woman cause,
You can't find the one with secret sauce
Enlivening your boredom with a secret whoredom
To anything but her, you, a not-so-secret serf.
Go the safe school,
Or pretend you're a rebel with pink streaks,
But that's b.s. too, self deluding
Real rebels only come one way,
Demeanor modest, keep your eyes on the
Quiet ones who run around happy when raining.
Cockeyed, squint, then you'll see it straight,
***** you, experience,
You take so much more than you give,
But most of us ***** don't know it till is
Gad **** way too late.
Preaching cause I am the fool
Biggest, sacrificed 30 years of misery
Afraid to apple cart, slept alone for decades,
Till I found the right one who before you,
Here, have embraced, repeatedly.
So when read your heartbreak hotel songs,
So weary-laden, no future foreseen,
Think of this, the only pain,
This heart break of failed love
Y'all write of, so oft,
Is the chiefest exception to this curse.
Live and love are one and the sane,
Love lose pain love again, dangerously,
Do it over and over, unstintingly,
Get experienced, but never cautious,
Fail, fail, never cease to be edgy.
**In this endless struggle stay involved,
No pause button, no recess,
For when the love accident happens,
There are no words I possess to
Adequate communicate,
The euphoria of having thrown caution
In the garbage can, next to its ******* cousin,
Experience.**
Jun 27, 2013
Jun 27, 2013 at 6:55 PM UTC
Let me tell you,
A story.
I'm going to spell
This out to you,
Plain and clear.
In a hazy but pleasant dream,
A crying man turned to me.
He told me, in an impromptu elegy
For the forgotten worlds,
About the repetition.
I vowed to him, I will change that.
The state of constant confusion.
Birthed by evolution, can take a hike.
I will push forward, letting my wrists bleed
From the serrated edges of the shackles
that bind them.
I will remain safe.
Hidden away from the chains.
Supported by my knowledge.
That premonition will be my spur,
To let loose everyday.
That I will blow down
Their paper shelters, tirelessly.
I refuse, to identify
With the hollow, false, self-deluding face,
That they throw at me.
Without reason.
Without care.
Apr 25, 2012
Apr 25, 2012 at 12:48 AM UTC
Let's pretend my tears are warm and my frown is a smile,
let's pretend you never left me, even for a while.
Let's close our eyes at the radiance of vacant dreams,
let's say our lids have not opened but waited for a moment.
Let me pretend I've never been hurt, that lies are but a
shade of white;
we are but history hung from another era in a velvet world
where the victor tells the tale.
Let's pretend this song has not being sung and
that the rhythm of my melody hasn't been plagiarized by
the impostor with a pen and paper.
Let's pretend we are one, under the billow of a mind,
that the sky is the blanket of our sleep and doesn't harbor
but our bodies in the shores of the night tide.
Mar 30, 2014
Mar 30, 2014 at 1:48 AM UTC
Look at how I've controlled your little mind
I find humor in when you think that without me you won’t please yours or any other eye
I can manipulate you into believing that in my absence that word pretty you will never define
Chanel, L’Oreal, Maybelline
what else of me have you prioritized
of what I offer, you own a collection so wide
from your dresser
to your pocket
or in that bag you carry by your side
contouring so you can attain that distinct jaw line
or black winged liner to change the shape of your eye
why haven't you realized?
that you're gradually making me a necessity in your lives
though
of this you have no clue
due to your false judgment which has convinced you to assume
that your flaws should be hidden because they don’t make you, you
The richness of the colors I offer
will keep you satisfied
The cherry red on your lips that feels every breath
you take in
one smudge and you’re ready to reapply
why
do you act as if nature has done some sort of crime?
Let face it if there’s anyone who should be fined
it is I
for deluding you to ignore the innocence of your face
whose beauty you've chose not to embrace
and have resorted to me as your only escape
leaving with what’s beneath to suffocate
making you confident
like fulfilling some need
only for a period of time
I succeed
so on me don’t be too dependent
for I’m just a temporary lie
step outside
keeping in mind
that true beauty radiates from what’s inside
don't take to heart on what they criticize
do not get used to me
because dear
I do not define
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 12:12 PM UTC
feeling trapped is a constant
it comes in sweeping waves that engulf my very world—
i struggle to keep my head above the suffocating surf that is my mind
i try to find solace in the ceasing seas of assailment—
for in that moment my battered soul will know relief
relief, however, is a funny thing
it comes in deluding dewdrops of temporary bliss—
i admire the enticing beauty that is brought to me if only for the moment
i try to ignore the crystal-clear reflection that is my perennial hesitancy—
for in that moment my composure evaporates beneath the afternoon sun
-hcd
Jun 27, 2016
Jun 27, 2016 at 4:08 PM UTC
at the junction
of your vermillion adorned forehead
where the rivers of
ida, pingala and sushumna meet,
lies the point of singularity
from where
our cosmos exploded
into this unwieldy clutter
with it
an unseen fifth dimension....
a spider like web of illusion
deluding all humanity
into incessant action
where
only karmas multiply
oh maya!
i implore you
to end
this vicious cycle
reveal
that white lotus with a thousand petals
sitting in your cerebrum,
where the love of your life
sporting that chiseled crescent
meditates
in contemplative silence
© 2021
May 27, 2021
May 27, 2021 at 11:49 AM UTC
i shouldn't have
expected anything less;
deluding myself
is what i do best.
May 4, 2017
May 4, 2017 at 3:25 AM UTC
Stupid things we do…when it comes to matters of the heart,
We feel so invincible, until our illusion falls apart,
And all you’re left with is the deafening silence and memories in the dark.
Hope is already miles away…already gone too far.
You never expected it to be perfect…you just thought that he’d be there,
Not always to fight your demons, but to hold you in his arms; to let you know he cares.
But the calls remain unanswered…and a month turns into a year…
Yet you sit by waiting patiently; you rather denounce your fears.
You wouldn't tell a soul…the experiences through which you've been,
You wouldn't ask for help although your walls are caving in.
You dry your tears, fake a smile and hide the pain within,
Although things are broken, you've made a promise; you will not commit the sin.
You become a shell of yourself…and you lay there wasting away
Deluding yourself with the ****** that there will come a day,
When he finds himself, and realizes the error in his ways,
Surely he’ll come back…surely he’ll promise to stay.
Eventually, reality sets in, and you’re begging to be free,
But the lies are too intricately woven, too deep to let you leave.
All you ever had with him and all you thought you’d be,
Was never there to begin with, but so in love you were to actually see…
Through the facade, through the lies and the fake imagery,
All the things you've done for him contributes to your misery.
Every kiss and caress now a distant memory…
The truth still cast in shadows like an unsolved mystery.
Stupid things we do…when it comes to matters of the heart,
We feel so invincible, until our illusion falls apart,
And all you’re left with is the deafening silence and memories in the dark.
Hope is already miles away… it has already gone too far.
Jan 5, 2013
Jan 5, 2013 at 10:06 PM UTC
She pushed what remained on her cigarette into a coffee dish, ran the water, dismissed her regret and then made a silent wish.
He threw the laptop against the wall, as if it were some flipflop rubber ball. His head fell into his waiting hands and he spoke in a dead language only he could understand.
She waited until mid-night and then she shut the TV, no use hoping for what never would be. She heard the front door open and she knew he was home.
How many lies have we reinterpreted as truth?
Our wants can sometimes distort reality until it fits what we want to believe, what we need to believe.
Like a placebo used against a virus - it can soothe our present by deluding us about the future.
Addictions of all kinds can be like quicksand pulling one away from the reality that must be lived in order to understand.
Nov 9, 2014
Nov 9, 2014 at 11:28 AM UTC
say my name, say my name!
you are…
you’re ********* right I am
I am the chemo coursing
through your blood
pumping you full of hope
deluding you with life’s beguiling bargain
that pain and suffering will allow you to live
forever, if you ask nicely, and
the background music is right
I am the one who walks
away from the inferno
while other souls sizzle
their biographies written in flames
flicked to life by my match
I am the nobody in the room
when you die alone, without the drip of morphine
your terrified eyes searching the stillness
for a childhood vision,
hoping it will be a summer song
rather than winter’s dead bone
I am all you dreaded
all you dreamed, you
have always known me
and followed my tracks
refusing to see me
though I was only
you
Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 9:57 PM UTC
‘Not your fault’ says he, with his charming smile - but yes, yes it is.
I saw charming charm like it really is.
I continued, deluding me - thought I knew pain.
Refused to know I’d know this pain again.
She though, lives with her status intact.
I, who had little, no longer have that.
There’s not much to salvage in old sad old tales...
maybe a stone-built cottage in Wales?
Aug 16, 2015
Aug 16, 2015 at 11:49 AM UTC