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"disillusions" poems
Leave me to be young, to shrivel. A white gardenia always must wither, and shrivel; Die. Leave me to marry, to love. A heart can pump alone I assure you, leave me to revoke my own sins. A lost cause you take me, and your silence will break me. Your pesticides will **** off anything natural I possess! A White Gardenia must shrivel and, die. Success is what disillusions me, in pretense I fight. A war on egos, envy and such! It is all I know in my mechanical set-up, is to follow the world in it's redundant tide. A White Gardenia can bloom, it can shrivel, wither. A White Gardenia always must die.
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Feb 9, 2013
Feb 9, 2013 at 1:37 PM UTC
The White Gardenia
I recently got reminded... Oh how I am caught In a delicate web of disillusions Make me see what is actually not Make invisible my heart's secret questions Been successful in putting aside all grief But truth has it's way to make you pay You can bury all grievances; you can mask all disbelief But it'll all catch up; these things you've kept at bay Make your silly compromises To have the the best you just make allowances Keep up your futile pretences Accommodate your selfish preferences Day had dawned where each question need their answer Questions I've shrugged and left unaddressed Indistinguishable when fact and fiction begin to blur When dreams and reality have coalesced Tonight I lay with the load I bring Body asleep with my heart fully awake Blessing or curse, this rude awakening Decisions and choices left for the following suns to make
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Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 9:18 AM UTC
Reminder
Creeping up the steps of the building, She holds her breath. The building stares at her with massive, polished eyes, Eyes of judgement, Daring her to enter it's realm of formality, It's realm of order and conduct. She holds her breath. A chill passes through her when she sees the others. Dressed to impress, Traveling in packs, like wolves of the wild. And completely unaware of everything. They have attended a private performance, Put on by the people, They immerse themselves with, surround themselves with. She holds her breath. The walls beckon her in, soak her in. And she blends into them like a chameleon. Invisible. She holds her breath. Traveling soundlessly, with soft footsteps that don't echo along the hallow halls, Making her way to her destination, She holds her breath. The door moans as it opens to reveal what lays behind. Disappointment, dismay, disillusions, Dread. She holds her breath.
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Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 6:56 PM UTC
Don't Breathe
sunday bled down my legs my petals bloomed your bitten lips and the smirks between my thighs a burning kiss the bathtub water turned murky a  basin of sin cutting up ******* lines perfect symmetry ****** apartments with molded carpets kids with their hair bleached love disillusions the mind      to me that's scarier than a needle puncturing veins and the long twist of train tracks on lonely purple nights, winter bitten cheeks
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Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 9:10 PM UTC
sociology and love fungus
The man in the mirror envelops his fractal fingers over my scathing sight, seeking quixotic symmetry, the apogean gift of harmony, with his enigmatic allure, disillusions me off vanity; off a falsifying dream. The liar traps me in his liar, to aid in his endless search for perfection while shaming me for the sins I repent.
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Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 4:58 AM UTC
MAN IN THE MIRROR
THE MASK…. This mask that I wear Is worn with care Behind this mask Is someone so Rare Beware!!! For this mask can tell A million stories Of fight and glories Behind this mask Resides the real me Confusions Disillusions Loneliness Restlessness This mask is worn To cover the scars Marred by the years Of fears Tears Afraid of not being Heard Shattered confidences Self-worth Pity showing its ugly face Feeling of disgrace So never be fooled By the mask that is worn It could be I am tattered And torn This mask that I wear Keeps me secure And so sure Silently watching From every corner Gaining strength Dignity And grace Finally someday I will show My true face © Helen Moule 23rd April 2012
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May 6, 2012
May 6, 2012 at 2:29 PM UTC
The Mask
Nurture your strength and let it freely grow Gather your spirit, paddle your own canoe The  darkest storms and all the wildest waves Spiralling winds,  the strongest gales All these torments, disillusions and dismays Easy and strong paddles keep you adrift and unafraid
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Feb 2, 2019
Feb 2, 2019 at 6:44 PM UTC
Be Strong
A vision obscured. The eye darts frantic, navigating around voids. Lost in the entanglement of refracted memories. Finding home... While swimming through cataracts and disillusions.
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Sep 16, 2025
Sep 16, 2025 at 8:30 AM UTC
20/40
Don't tell me I have your attention when I don't. Captivated you in a church dress with the hole in the stockings, eating salted tomatoes between two slices of bread feet touching mine under the table on a Sunday after my Confirmation ceremony. Don't tell me how naughty a catholic school girl can be with your hand on my thigh and a thumb on my cheek. Kissing me hard and heavy, leaving a bite on my lip with a grunt smiling while you whip your hair back from your tan skin and brown eyes. Don't tell me you love the way I look when you don't know me yet. Cigarette drag me out breathing smoke behind my ears as you lay your hand out the window beside your bed, while my mama's sleeping and doesn't know where I am and my white blouse is on the chair hanging next to my purity. Don't tell me how unholy I've been when you don't know faith. How it's not worth praying for something I don't have any more, lost in my own disillusions that you created out of words you swear you left unsaid, with a tear pressed against the part of me that felt like it was falling in love. Don't tell me that it's all my fault. Don't call me your lady when all I ever wanted was for you to settle down with me like a safety, anchor your trust in my belly made to keep my body warm, but your icy cold. Don't rip or tear or strike out your own mistakes on my body. Don't tell me how ****** up innocence is when all I was before you came was a Mary Jane shoe with some of the leather worn on the sole from walking too far to find someone to caress my hair. Don't leave me open and dry when all this ever was, was an advantage you took too easily on an infatuated girl who was too young and didn't know the difference.
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Mar 4, 2013
Mar 4, 2013 at 7:32 PM UTC
Too Young to Know the Difference
Don't tell me I have your attention when I don't. Captivated you in a church dress with the hole in the stockings, eating salted tomatoes between two slices of bread feet touching mine under the table on a Sunday after my Confirmation ceremony. Don't tell me how naughty a catholic school girl can be with your hand on my thigh and a thumb on my cheek. Kissing me hard and heavy, leaving a bite on my lip with a grunt smiling while you whip your hair back from your tan skin and brown eyes. Don't tell me you love the way I look when you don't know me yet. Cigarette drag me out breathing smoke behind my ears as you lay your hand out the window beside your bed, while my mama's sleeping and doesn't know where I am and my white blouse is on the chair hanging next to my purity. Don't tell me how unholy I've been when you don't know faith. How it's not worth praying for something I don't have any more, lost in my own disillusions that you created out of words you swear you left unsaid, with a tear pressed against the part of me that felt like it was falling in love. Don't tell me that it's all my fault. Don't call me your lady when all I ever wanted was for you to settle down with me like a safety, anchor your trust in my belly made to keep my body warm, but your icy cold. Don't rip or tear or strike out your own mistakes on my body. Don't tell me how ****** up innocence is when all I was before you came was a Mary Jane shoe with some of the leather worn on the sole from walking too far to find someone to caress my hair. Don't leave me open and dry when all this ever was, was an advantage you took too easily on an infatuated girl who was too young and didn't know the difference.
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IV These fought in any case, And some believing, pro domo, in any case .. Some quick to arm, some for adventure, some from fear of weakness, some from fear of censure, some for love of slaughter, in imagination, learning later… some in fear, learning love of slaughter; Died some, pro patria, non dulce et non decor.. walked eye-deep in hell believing in old men's lies, then unbelieving **came home, home to a lie, home to many deceits, home to old lies and new infamy; usury age-old and age-thick and liars in public places.** Daring as never before, wastage as never before. Young blood and high blood, Fair cheeks, and fine bodies; fortitude as never before frankness as never before, disillusions as never told in the old days, hysterias, trench confessions, laughter out of dead bellies. from Hugh Selwyn Mauberley
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Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 5:36 AM UTC
Ezra Pound
A mask of lies disguises my inner thoughts Accompanied by a black veil which conceals my sorrows A cage of snakes hold captive everything I ever bought While ropes of disillusions hold back my tomorrows Encountering materialistic poisons that plague my existence With a side dish of infectious bad habits Offered with a full menu of self-destructive malignance That are stuffed into my boxed head like voting ballots Having a desire for unwanted capitulation Which lead to uncontrollable regrettable decisions But a light guides me on a path to true elation With nervousness overcoming my body like a surgeon making his first incision Darkness becomes light blessed with colorful roses A flame of love has ignited its route like a traveling circus Followed by a wandering mind that creatively composes As life’s symphonic strings are strummed, this writer finds his purpose Jonathan Pizarro Copyright 2011 © January 29, 2011 2:40am
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Feb 20, 2011
Feb 20, 2011 at 9:31 PM UTC
Traveling Circus
******* my comeuppance. There's a lot of boring here Learning new text Fighting new 'plex And settling into no other Life as a smattered painting Galaxy's attempt at recreation Correctional institutions of cellular disillusions Peeing off the side of the golden gate to create a meta golden gate Ships sail underneath my toxins. Vulgarity for clarity and cleverness for its sake. Drown myself in intoxication and say things in it's wake. Welcome to life post life. Welcome to a lonely impasse. Welcome to a place that God desires, let's hope it will soon pass.
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Jul 5, 2014
Jul 5, 2014 at 1:15 PM UTC
Yodeling and odeling
Huddling and cuddling I held you so lightly Do you remember those cold nights my child? You were mumbling and drooling, and cooed ever so slightly When I pointed at the moon, you looked up and smiled “Mooooon!” I said to you, to which you replied, “Mooo!” And then I laughed a little - and maybe - I cried We’d shared an experience so unfathomable in consequence And by naming it, to you I had lied Will you forgive me my child, for that cosmic crime? The moment when I stole that which shone in your eyes When you echoed my mistakes reverberating in time But ignorant, I wrapped you, so snugly in those dark skies Do you remember those cold nights my child? In this cold night, the moon has lit up full again Only tonight, our bodies share not this blanket of lights Disillusioned with disillusions we have become since then But still I wish to unwrap you from the words I write My child, I ask you, look up once more, But let not facticity blindfold your sight Feel that which language bids you withhold And play I pray with the rabbit that lives in the sky
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Jul 4, 2012
Jul 4, 2012 at 9:33 AM UTC
The Moon
22/9/15 23:54 And i can feel you slipping away Away But never truly leaving. Could it be that You still feel for me? Or am i just lonely With my disillusions Its been 3.5 years And i'm stuck here With my heart in Rear Reverse gears That wont allow me to crack on Perverse fears That wont allow me to move on Because what if i really could get over you? And you me? Would that be something we'd be willing to do? In order to transgress through life Separately? I hope to high hell We cant And We wont I miss you now more than i've ever missed anyone else And these memories and thoughts of you are more real than my surroundings
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Sep 24, 2015
Sep 24, 2015 at 8:56 PM UTC
22/9/15 23:54
I'll take the chair by the corner window A seating for one and the lonely reserved the sun bright rays from the outside and yet it is raining and cold here inside Let me have a piece of your sweet nothings and a cup of your bittersweet concoction Stir it, make it strong, make it potent To bathe my tongue in your flavorful sorrow A subtle hint of sweetness from the better days so little, like this honey in my cup to drink I ask for more but was denied of supply None for me or just not for me unfortunately I ate your sorrows and broken dreams got drunk in your meaningless lines Suffered from your inflicted sadness Got poisoned by your killer disillusions
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Feb 17, 2013
Feb 17, 2013 at 6:12 PM UTC
A Faithful Patron of the Sadness Cafe
We stood together On the empty street Two ghosts Holding hands Deafening heartbeats in sync As our watercolor shadows intertwined into the light.
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Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 11:00 PM UTC
The disillusions and the disillusioned
Initially, it was an innocent feeling A longing to escape treacherous lives. In one season the seed was sown, And in another hope was reaped. Before long, the path to new lands was paved. Differing thoughts bound by creed, Met at the river of blood Parting between Ebony and Ivory. It was grief that sheltered them. At home, it was prosperity that was desired. Love was for Lady Success, yet unrequited. But amongst the best, the love brought setbacks, And amongst the worst, it carried envy. Thus the path to wealth blocked with thorns and thistles. The seeds sown among the thorns, Are the peerless seeds. But disillusions of wealth and pleasure choke them, Reaping nothing but unfruitful labour.
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Feb 8, 2018
Feb 8, 2018 at 3:52 PM UTC
CREED AND GRIEF
The day of the Dark Horse has ended,misconceptions preordained conventions,child born of transparent illusions,opaque confusions, coded disillusions,confounded conclusions,contradicted conflict-ions,choreographed addictions,but your blessed with constricted restrictions only intended to cause abrupt-ed comb-ructions. A Judas priest in the least martyr in the West King of the East,yet without The Prince of Peace the em-pending doom at Shanghai noon you though it deep but in the end the Dish ran away with the spoon alliterations can blend but you know you killed it when ink flows from a pen,continually my itinerary of verbal artillery frees me like the herbal relief of the leaf at dawn with pipe I take a yawn at life,tired of dreams bewildered at screams why give a **** if you dont know what it means My banks run over flooded with emotion familiar in detail yet clueless to the notion,my ships at sail without an ocean,beached like a whale depressed i creep like a snail,lots of stories but a fish with no tail....Damn I'm going blind and i cant read Braille,no enemies cause there are no friends,no friends cause i don't want to Fri -in the- end,instilled with distilled fear and wisdom is how we begin,lost in diluted confusions is how most of us end..we hunger for freedom and long a savior though we act like animals we don't judge our behavior,survivors of the night we strive until the light....Celestial Being..80s
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Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 11:53 AM UTC
Resurrect
that truth injected a liquid coal that was to pulse my veins forever. pulled back the blinds and shrouded me in darkness. extinguished the flames and charred the place where I housed our dreams. Cracking the concrete that lead to our door. devoured the life surrounding the perimeter. engulfed me in a blackness I won't soon forget. misled by my own disillusions of who I wanted you to be. the pages of this fairy tale are blank, and would better make for kindling. Rather start new, or keep warm for that matter, I chose to walk toward the lake alone. feet bound by lies I toss this to the cliffs, broken with the others at the bottom. misled by my own disillusion of who I wanted you to be. I weakened myself at the knees and fell to my own imagination. Dragons and princess, I sword-struck myself silly. these scars are not my own. star-gaze reminiscence we ALL fall down. my faith is absent. I lay the ghost of you down to sleep. Kiss your forehead and destroy the reflection of myself I never wish to see again. Shrouded, blank, Shrouded, blank. Feet  bound  by  lies you hung bleeding water into a rapidly growing puddle. I watch the sun set in our tear stained canvas sky. -r0
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May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 11:18 PM UTC
catatonic
disillusions of the soul falsify the truth of the now so we fall back remembering lost times where people met in space and light that paralleled a greater life
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May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 9:58 AM UTC
Disillusioned
The result of logic and hope Is akin to the percent of those who make it out the ghetto without getting hooked on dope Is lowkey a joke When you're raised at the bottom You know there's nobody down there just dolling out helping hands So what else is a victim to do but turn villain and give into society demands Many try But if a man can't see a path for his own potential to be fulfilled, how do you expect his faith to survive, let alone thrive? Life used to be a board game Now its a socially engineered maze that takes an array of chess moves just to buy-in And the crime is for certain groups making it out isn't an option so the game becomes rigged with all too familiar conclusions Young promiscuous masculine ego driven women give babies to young emotional juveniles males who in many cases become convicted men convinced they can be good institutionalized dads all while reaching his now juvenile son from behind that glass Delusions have some of us thinking we can see the forest from the trees But as within so without And so as long as you remain a slave to your thoughts chances are so will your seed A picture is worth a thousand words But if EBT and genocide is all these babies see What else you think they gon' grow up to be?
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Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 10:56 AM UTC
The Maze
So hard to please, **** I'm on my knees. So speak up let me know what's on that runaway mind of yours, first one to say talk to me but you just stay silent. You are your worst enemy I know first hand so quick to jump to conclusions harbour of your own illusions disillusions. Fill trapped inside of my own pleas just to get you to see....... All of me , but you just don't believe. Why can't you see? Why can't I be enough of what you need? I'm not here to deceave or make believe, You alone is what I conceave of that I really need.
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Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 5:31 PM UTC
My plea
Empty clarity and me a hopeless hermit among tiny misty mountain peak. Blazing away to careless dances, raw disillusions and looking upward, inward, outward. Except, my thoughts are not mine, my words are not mine. Are my smiles real? or fragments of tear. why am I with me? dying but never dead. created but never awake
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Aug 21, 2015
Aug 21, 2015 at 6:55 AM UTC
Seeker
Love hits you when you least expect it. It comes in a moment when you're not looking or ready for it. Meeting a stranger in a strange place, in a strange time seems like a fairy tale we've been fed as lies all our lives. It all starts off innocently enough... A smile here, a laugh there and a casual touch. But that innocence doesn't always last and leads to something more. It just depends on who wanted those moments to last longer. Love can make you feel all sorts of things, it disillusions you to believe that everything you have with them is real. One moment in time can change everything, just a little look of the eyes can make you feel a thousand things. Hearing the softness in their voice when they tell you how they feel, can make you catch a disease no one ever wants to feel. The sweet words that are said that give you a feeling of bliss, soon turn to sweet lies that make you feel as if you don't exist. Falling in love is oh so easy, the happy moments spent daydreaming of the possibilities. But the moment those feelings burn to the ground, you finally realise it wasn't worth all the pain you've been feeling after a while inside. Just like falling in love it hits you hard when you fall out of love, your world comes crashing down around you as ashes that you built with the person you once loved.
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Jan 26, 2021
Jan 26, 2021 at 9:15 AM UTC
Fall out of love
I  was a funeral pyre for there disillusions. All arched in collective fragmentation of what transpired within the variation of echoes that collected upon them. Like voices on a beach of shells shattering harmoniously they fell like sheets cleaved from a washing line. I just looked, my voice rippling across the street of what I was perceiving, they were now not mesmerised by the effigy of my features but know they fled. Neither walking but unattached to what was perceived. Their stares blank cavities of nothingness. Wondering within what could be perceived as a pastel painting, things where they were meant to be, but!! Slightly               out of focus, windows were like breath had been woven within there frame of reflection. Random verses collected then like a candle they were melting into the mist collecting till nothing. The focus of my mind was that it wasn't just the images of aged personality woven with the fabric of this place but images of children in happiness then contorted within what could be perceived as loneliness. they walked alone hand out like in a needing of what couldn't be complicity conceived. Some were against formations  of what were perceived as walls, but looking upon them, more like memories coalescing  into tight collects. Were these the structures of lives lived not formed into a accumulation  of reflections? I bent down to talk to these echoes of what i perceived as children and they cried memories on my palms. To Be Continued
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May 10, 2017
May 10, 2017 at 6:12 PM UTC
I Was A Blossom In The Garden Of Oblivion [Part 2]
I  was a funeral pyre for there disillusions. All arched in collective fragmentation of what transpired within the variation of echoes that collected upon them. Like voices on a beach of shells shattering harmoniously they fell like sheets cleaved from a washing line. I just looked, my voice rippling across the street of what I was perceiving, they were now not mesmerised by the effigy of my features but know they fled. Neither walking but unattached to what was perceived. Their stares blank cavities of nothingness. Wondering within what could be perceived as a pastel painting, things where they were meant to be, but!! Slightly               out of focus, windows were like breath had been woven within there frame of reflection. Random verses collected then like a candle they were melting into the mist collecting till nothing. The focus of my mind was that it wasn't just the images of aged personality woven with the fabric of this place but images of children in happiness then contorted within what could be perceived as loneliness. they walked alone hand out like in a needing of what couldn't be complicity conceived. Some were against formations  of what were perceived as walls, but looking upon them, more like memories coalescing  into tight collects. Were these the structures of lives lived not formed into a accumulation  of reflections? I bent down to talk to these echoes of what i perceived as children and they cried memories on my palms. To Be Continued
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