"dishonest" poems
The man of life upright, whose guiltless heart is free
From all dishonest deeds and thoughts of vanity:
The man whose silent days in harmless joys are spent,
Whom hopes cannot delude, nor fortune discontent;
That man needs neither towers nor armor for defense,
Nor secret vaults to fly from thunder's violence:
He only can behold with unaffrighted eyes
The horrors of the deep and terrors of the skies;
Thus scorning all the care that fate or fortune brings,
He makes the heaven his book, his wisdom heavenly things;
Good thoughts his only friends, his wealth a well-spent age,
The earth his sober inn and quiet pilgrimage.
13.7k
Im a poet and a painter
And a meandering musician
And I've hopes that somehow my
Art'll pay for my tuition.
I know it's not about the facts
Or my intuition
I wont believe all that I'm shown
For I know its superstition.
And you know Im not a doctor
Or even a practition
But heres some medicine myself perscribed
To help with this condition.
The dizzyness and neasuea
And the most dishonest vision..
May this writing reach my soul
In its keen perscision
And help me make every right move
Help make the right decision.
When there's so many unfathomable things we are
I choke on that recognition.
Jul 8, 2018
Jul 8, 2018 at 4:37 AM UTC
Hours
Spent
Straightening her
Tangled blonde hair
Thousands
Spent
Taming her
Wild
Golden locks
Ages
Spent
In front of a
Dishonest
Mirror
That lied
And lied again
About her
Beauty
Within
Don’t you know
Those curls are a treasure
My curly friend?
When I play with them at
Night
Again
And
Again
Wrapped round my fingers
Feeling your original curly sin
Don’t you know
Those curls are a pleasure
My curly friend?
As they tickle my
Soul
In their
Serpentine
Intent
I want to mess your
Proper blonde
Into a wild naked disarray
Curls and more
Curls
A field of windswept
Growth
I want to bury my nostrils
Into the heady bare
Perfume
Of your silent
Curly
Oath
And
I
Won’t
Let
You
No,
I
Won’t
Let
You
Defile those curls
Again
May 25, 2014
May 25, 2014 at 6:12 AM UTC
Warning: Use dis list in context.
You decide on which side you fall.
disappear
disregard
disaster
displace
disqualify
disrepair
disturb
dissipate
disability
dispose
dismal
distribute
distrust
disturb
discriminate
discuss
disdain
disguise
dishearten
disinherit
disown
disparage
disagree
disgruntle
disclose
discolour
dispute
disarm
discover
disassemble
disadvantage
disallow
dispossess
discontent
discontinue
disrespect
disincline
discomfort
disrepute
dishonest
disillusion
dishonor
dismiss
disobey
disjoin
disappoint
discipline
discord
discern
discrete
disfigure
disconnect
disapprove
discharge
disbar
disease
discord
disfavor
disengage
disassociate
discipline
discount
disembody
displace
dissaray
disembowel
discombobulate
discredit
discourse
disentangle
disenfranchise
disembark
discard
disburse
disbelief
discover
disable
disagree
disintegrate
dismay
dispense
dislodge
disclaimer
disapprove
dissatisfy
disrupt
dispel
dislike
dismantle
disloyal
disbatch
disrobe
disperse
display
disaprove
disciple
disavow
disconcert
disinfect
disorder
dismal
dismember
displease
dissemble
disunity
dislocate
distort
distrust
distress
dissolute
disassociate
distill
discect (?)
distemper
distain
distasteful
distraught
dissolve
dissonant
dissuade
And dis isn't de end.
Aug 22, 2015
Aug 22, 2015 at 12:06 PM UTC
I am much too alone in this world, yet not alone
enough
to truly consecrate the hour.
I am much too small in this world, yet not small
enough
to be to you just object and thing,
dark and smart.
I want my free will and want it accompanying
the path which leads to action;
and want during times that beg questions,
where something is up,
to be among those in the know,
or else be alone.
I want to mirror your image to its fullest perfection,
never be blind or too old
to uphold your weighty wavering reflection.
I want to unfold.
Nowhere I wish to stay crooked, bent;
for there I would be dishonest, untrue.
I want my conscience to be
true before you;
want to describe myself like a picture I observed
for a long time, one close up,
like a new word I learned and embraced,
like the everyday jug,
like my mother's face,
like a ship that carried me along
through the deadliest storm.
8.5k
Gatsby, Gatsby, oh you protagonist young man;
To work for a millionaire and be a soldier.
To do criminal activity just for a single girl
Who once did love you but never will again.
With all your fabulous wealth and fame;
In that mansion you live in filled with Goth
Having lavishing parties on late Saturday nights;
Not to mingle but to look, to look for her.
Living in the West Egg with a distant view
Of a lake in front to separate you and your love.
Only a light of green to comfort your loneliness;
With a friend as your only connection to them.
You are the mysterious type of man that you are.
A person whom no one knows where he is from,
What he does in life or how he makes his fortune.
But in reality you are from a farm in North Dakota.
You are also a flawed, dishonest, and ****** man;
Lie about your past and the name that people know.
Left your farm life at age 17 to change who you were;
Forgot your name as Jimmy Gatz to become Jay Gatsby.
Jay Gatsby, Jimmy Gatz, you did this for your love;
For the love you had for Miss Daisy Buchanan, for her.
As a man, you were known to be extraordinary optimism;
For you were determine to take your dream and make it a reality.
The dream that you had of only you and her.
A dream that was too far from reality;
So far that it blinded you from true reality.
This dream is what brought death upon you.
For Jay Gatsby and Jimmy Gatz are one and the same.
Both blinded by love for Miss Daisy Buchanan.
Both determine to change their social status
Both dreamt a dream that would not come true.
But yet both denied the truth of themselves.
For this brought the death and the heartache
Of a father who knew so little of his only son.
For a friend who truly knew nothing of him at all.
Dec 2, 2018
Dec 2, 2018 at 3:49 PM UTC
In the burning right hand of the bald city,
denizens frame calories and count instagram blessings
while beacons of hope refund inspiration in USADA *** cups.
Abyssinian maids wail over yesterday lovers
who wore Ginsberg’s skirt with less pizzazz
and watched bedbugs **** blood off knee caps
wondering, what if Jesus Christ drove a Nissan?
As bullets of paragraphs fall Vietnamese pesticides on my head,
The dusts off my breath sing homilies
With letters of broken leather whiskey,
For even in the most dishonest jest,
clandestine toothbrushes are overrated
and every first false lie is the only truth.
Jun 27, 2013
Jun 27, 2013 at 8:02 PM UTC
You’re not Pro-life, just Pro-Forced Birth
Despite proclaiming loudly
On signs accusing, ******
To one in three women, proudly
You’re not Pro-Life, but Anti-choice
And Anti-women, too
Shutting down Planned Parenthood is
A War on Women’s coup
Your Pro-Birth stance is but a sham
Backwards in time, you’re swimming
Saying Jesus is your Lamb while
Cutting aid for pregnant women
I saw you there, in Salem, too
Pointing, declaring them WITCHES
Burned alive by your testimony
Betraying and damning your SISTERS
My mother used to say self praise
Was not really praise at all
How can you say you’re Pro-Birthers
Causing WIC funding to fall?
The schools that once were funded
Providing breakfast for hungry kids
Was cut-yet congress spends like Spartans
Government sold to the highest bids
Sixty percent of our money
In good ole USA
Goes straight to the military
And I demand a say!
‘Health’ gets only five percent
And ‘Education’ six
Yet that’s where congress goes
To cut funding to the quick
You shut down Planned Parenthood with
Dishonest screams and shouts…
Support Accidental Parenthood-
Is that what you’re about?
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 2:41 PM UTC
you are there in my subconscious
every time that I close my eyes
your head upon my shoulder
underneath a starlit sky
you are there in my conversations
underneath the words I say
the shape of your disposition
towards the topic of the day
you are there when I’m dishonest
your eyes just above the lie
with a cool discerning look
and a disapproving sigh
you are there in my emotions
every smile and every tear
your unexpected absence
at the base of every fear
obsession is an ugly word
infatuation is to sweet
you are there inside my soul
where love and longing meet
Jan 23, 2015
Jan 23, 2015 at 9:21 PM UTC
If you think that
I will wait in the shadows
keeping my head down
my organs, my time
at your disposal
You are blind
In the worst kind of way
I have been the trick
up the sleeve of
dishonest players
enough to know
that darkness well
penetrating only the physical
powerless against the invisible
I refuse to be kept
as a secret, a guilty pleasure
no more will you
take me behind closed doors
pretending not to be
intoxicated in front
of your friends
You will never see
me on my knees
for your sins
Your sinister sermon
no longer whispers
in my ear
And the weight of
your demons
Has lifted from my shoulder
The mistress of your cruelty
no more,
The empire we ruled
The castle we shared
All ruins now
Tales of our torrid
love affair will be
greatly misremembered
You, wearing my crown
And I, wearing your ill repute.
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 12:26 PM UTC
Have you ever dated a butterfly ?
A butterfly who wings been grounded by lies,sin, adultery and broken promises.
A grounded butterfly whose wings ripped apart from a monstrous ant.
The butterfly stayed realizing its wings will never grow but it loved that ant for pleasures that won't fill the soul but just entice the body.
One day that butterfly did try to fly again but no wings and it found itself by mere coincidence in the nest of a growing dragonfly.
The dragon fly too was hurt and found itself wingless doing anything to forget it couldn't fly.
One day the butterfly and dragonfly came to be one together to ease the pain and to give the love the other deserves both too soon not ready but it's great, good and **** right horrible days.
But over time through mistakes and lies.
The dragonfly past vices caught up to it and little did the butterfly know it had baggage too it was fighting though wrong it tried to hide it but made things worse.
More time passed and struggles and misfortunes continued; it became apparent to the butterfly tired of being grounded it saw the dragonfly as species it cant intermix with.
They fought mentally against eachother only while hurting deep inside, the dragonfly too became more devoided and hidden but secretly it wanted to help bring the wings back to the butterfly. But after being dishonest the butterfly came to see it as a no good liar and cheat too.
A simple mistake it made and it hangs over something it never did but the die was cast, a created persona made from pain and hurt.
Truth is till this day that dragonfly only wishes to help and love that butterfly like it should be and dispel that hurt.
It wonders how can you get a butterfly that gave you chances and now won't take you back ?can you make a home, write a poem, or stay home alone wondering can you turn back time.....
It's still got a ways to go before its fully mature and experienced but it wishes to grow along side the butterfly as it too grows it's wings.
Can one day they build into what eachother needs with reckless abandon and learn to love one another the right way.
Just mere thoughts from a dragonfly.
Dec 1, 2019
Dec 1, 2019 at 4:19 AM UTC
Three tear drops,
a lip stick heart
and a cigarette burn
signed love always.
Every word
of every line
lit these memories
into flames.
"You were heartless
so **** dishonest
our love was the biggest mistake
I ever made."
And you fade away
With the ink smeared on this page.
It never crossed... my mind
That I would ever hear you say,
Goodbye...
Ohh goodbye...
Here I am on my knees
Can't even cry, It's hard to breathe.
I was so blind, I couldn’t see.
I realize now, you're all I need.
Goodbye...
Oh goodbye...
And we fade away
With the ink smeared on this page.
It never crossed... my mind
That I would ever let you say,
Goodbye...
Ohh goodbye...
Dec 11, 2015
Dec 11, 2015 at 10:43 PM UTC
When did I get so cynical?
Was it when promises were broken?
Did it happen once you left?
When you left my wounds open?
Was it when you left me bereft?
Was it when I saw what people did?
Did it happen after noticing your vie?
When you made that dishonest bid?
Was it when all you did was belie?
Was it when plans were changed?
Did it happen when I was manipulated?
When you made me feel so estranged?
Was it when I was left debilitated?
When did I get so cynical?
Was it when I left promises broken?
Did it happen once I left?
When I saw your wounds open?
Was it when my wake left you bereft?
Was it when I saw what I did?
Did it happen after noticing my vie?
When I made those dishonest bids?
Was it when all I did was belie?
Was it when I made plans change?
Did it happen once I manipulated?
When I made people feel estranged?
Was it when I made you debilitated?
When did I get so cynical?
Dec 26, 2014
Dec 26, 2014 at 3:32 PM UTC
Your life sounds hard,
difficult, sad,
and
I wonder,
can you, do you,
set limits with your family?
Not sure,
it’s okay to set limits
when you must always
do the "right thing"
even when,
even when,
it feels dishonest.
Be assured, your unnecessary shame
is safe here because it’s inaccurate
because you deserve a place,
to tell your side of the things,
you need someone with whom
you can be honest,
to share aloud
how you were trained
to do the "right thing"
when not once,
not once,
did doing the
"right thing"
ever feel right.
Sep 29, 2012
Sep 29, 2012 at 3:53 PM UTC
Brokenhearted lovers.
Learn to let go.
To try to control anyone.
Means you have no control at all.
Brokenhearted lovers.
Seek ways to heal.
Losing a lover is a bitter pill.
But move on.
Readjust your feelings to be free of hurt.
And it starts the moment you accepts the hurt.
Insecurity is a weakness of fear.
When you yearn for your love.
Who has found another?
Even if they were dishonest with you.
Accept it as a sign.
They wasn't worth of the essence of you.
Built up a inner strength that you control.
And when the next lover comes along.
They will cherish you more than you thought possible.
Counsel yourself.
All because it's free.
And you'll find in yourself.
A strength that can't be bent.
So brokenheart soul explore yourself.
Dec 2, 2012
Dec 2, 2012 at 11:41 PM UTC
I stand a moment and gaze at my cloud of thoughts
What comes to mind is limitless;it is all sorts
The third hand seems dishonest.
For to love is a risk that one must be modest
Concealed in my heart I hide the truth of my being
I am not proud; but I am not satisfied to be fleeing
A cynical cycle, which appears with a paradox ending
One should knot their laces now than later for pending
How can I ever be such a mockery that I hesitate, but rather be called a fool
I hate to feel abnormal with friends ,when I act like a tool
I cannot release this barrier that will restrict my trust
The matter has developed as an infant where bullying was a must
Dec 17, 2014
Dec 17, 2014 at 10:36 AM UTC
You Found it hard to belive
When I said I'm with you I'm with you
Nobody else in the picture
Now you're crying the blues
You saw her, the one that replaced you
Don't cry no more, dry your tears
I was loyal just dishonest
You played me, Robert and Jason
Like guitar strings
Now sing to your tunes...bitch.
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 5:50 PM UTC
My Pastor said hi last Sunday morn
Asked how I was and said bless you my son
He invited me to join the men's group there
That met after church at a quarter to four
I froze in my seat unable to speak
How should I reply without sounding weak
To make him know and understand
It would be dishonest to join a group for men
I know that my body still looks mostly male
But hadn't he a hint or even a clue
From my painted nails, earrings or perfume
Or the pink bracelet I wore on my arm
I smiled and replied that I'd give it some thought
But I realized that was really an easy way out
I wanted to somehow make him know
That God made me transgender
Though sometimes it doesn't show
Join the men's group no i can never do that
but the ladies group yes I would really enjoy that
But they will never accept that or understand why
And it would sound very odd if I tried to explain
So this transgender Christian will sit quiet and smile
Knowing just who I am, next to God all the while
© Lj Mark 2015
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 2:46 AM UTC
I'd never cared for flowers
Symbols of affection that wilt
And forget memories
And fall apart in kitchens and bedrooms and strew their pieces on the floors
Dried and broken after only days of being lovely
Flowers with their alternating patterns of
Unreliable determinations
Claiming every other petal as an opposite declaration
Of a determination
Of love
And I never liked removing thorns from roses
Because they added something truthful and
Poetic
But when you gave me flowers
I held them to my heart and let my eyes dance across the kaleidoscope that they created in a glass vase
I let them live for longer than they did
Because they were still pretty even when no one else seemed to think so
And when they hang dried on a wall
Still colorful but slightly brittle
Maybe they'll stay like that if I just don't touch them
When you gave me flowers
I plucked off every other petal
Into a bouquet of He-Loves-Me
Because for once there was no doubt
For once I believed the sentiment in the flowers and the words from your lips as you handed them over
The lack of nots in the petals
Pulling apart the knots in my stomach
He loves me
He loves me
Truer than the dirt that holds
Wilting symbols of affection
Sweeter than the honey
Of their pollinators
He loves me
He loves me
A garden of something new and beautiful
Perennial and built on symbolism after all
Until you let me know that dead flowers were just dead flowers
That they were past their worth
And metaphors aren't worth the dirt they were grown in
That perennials can't return
When you've salted the soil
And brittle flowers on the wall should always be removed
But I always lived in metaphors anyway
And I had a new appreciation for flowers that I didn't want to lose
I was no longer a rose
But a thorn
I always thought smooth stems were so boring
Not to mention dishonest
But I didn't want to make you bleed
So painfully I dug an olive branch from my rib cage
Then realizing that a ****** token may not be so well received
I decorated it with a bouquet of blue Forget-Me-Nots
But you plucked off every other petal
And handed back an array of He-Loves-Me-Nots
He loves me not
And there was no doubt in the sentiment
The sentience of metaphors dying all around me
When all I know is metaphors
And flowers were never just flowers
And words were never just words
But both are found on gravestones and poems and apologies
And parallels have fallen into nice and even spacing
Reducing flowers to clichés
Of alternating promises
Of He loves me and
He loves me not
Of broken promises
He loves me
Not
May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 6:04 PM UTC
It is quite interesting
The way in which women can proceed through life,
In such a grossly hypocritical manner.
Scorning love,
And mocking their lovers openly,
As if to say, your feelings don't count,
Only to later on raise their voices in condemnation
Of their slighted partner,
Thereby proving that they are without a doubt
The far more dishonest
And petty, of the sexes.
Sep 2, 2012
Sep 2, 2012 at 11:55 AM UTC
Nothing is ever time wasted,
just the interlude to the rest of the album. Soon it becomes nostalgia. To think you almost pressed the skip button..
It's all about trying new things.
Slowing were briding the gap.
Looping untold tales of blues and jazz into our samples.
The things considered classical.
Instant vintage.
The things we keep hidden in headphones,
The venerability of hype.
It's always about the crowd.
Afraid to digest something different.
This was the first time I met her.
At first I laughed,
Reaction that I faced my own ignorance.
Listening again finding purpose.
Not knowing that we'd come to spend the rest of our lives together.
All three minutes and forty five seconds.
I was dishonest.
Not revealing anything real about myself until I heard it for the first time.
The first time she sung.
Music.
This wasn't an image to be upheld in front of others.
Or the gossip type spread circle to circle.
I was never exposed to this.
Skimming the top layer ready to press next.
Too far caught in the slander that first impressions can give.
History often repeats itself but this wasn't the case.
This was wholeheartedly the epitome of how she effected me.
The rhythm of how she moved.
How she spoke.
Like that I matured almost instantly.
She became my biggest influence.
A two way street that bridged the gap of my own ignorance.
After time I began to leave my headphones on the dresser.
We were amplified.
She'd follow me everywhere just as I'd follow her.
Soon it caught on to the masses.
Each and every thought became a publicist of what she'd recite over and over again.
A parental advisory issued with every cover.
Finding the one became a catalog.
Stumbling back to the first interlude all over again.
The copyright not for sell
Mar 13, 2018
Mar 13, 2018 at 10:48 PM UTC
She described me as Tom Buchanan.
She immediately said that I wasn't violent like him,
but that I could easily be him...
I could easily show his side.
I could be brutish and abusive
and dishonest and an adulterer
and greedy and pretentious.
I could be all of those things so easily.
It's as if a switch goes off in my brain that says,
***"Hey, let's be an ******* today."***
I don't want to be.
I don't want to be seen as Tom Buchanan.
I don't want to be the man who hurts so many
and truly loves so few.
I want to be so much more than that.
I don't necessarily want to be like Daisy or Jordan or Myrtle or Nick or
even like Gatsby himself.
I want to be like myself.
I want to be the girl that I'm meant to be
and I know that I am not right now
nor have I been for quite some time.
I just want to be the woman God made me to be and
I'm tired of being such a catastrophe in the making and
for ruining and hurting those around me.
I don't want to be that girl.
I don't want to be like Tom Buchanan.
I want to be me...
The real me.
...who am I?
Mar 3, 2016
Mar 3, 2016 at 3:36 PM UTC