"factuality" poems
I have two persona with very different duality,
I have too extreme of a personality,
And I have a hard time expressing myself to your factuality.
Only veiled my discreet personal past with thin layers of exclamation,
To diverge, veer, or in discrete my own expression.
To die within my own words to save my honor,
Or to stay translucent to dye my tongue in fake color.
For I have failed myself in becoming true to my belief,
For eye to eye I can't seem to meet any sort of relief,
Are these my real eyes point of view,
Or have I realized I been dreaming of you,
Or were they simply all real lies of my personal skew?
This desire to raise your understanding,
But your voice raze my defense to oblivion,
And heavenly rays depart like the moons with wolf howl with your gaze!
Was there nothing of me that sparkled to your kindred spirit,
Was I that loathing of your presence to lose your smile?
No matter as past are like the whim of a sail,
I Know that happiness has no sale.
Believe me when I say I want you to be happy,
But my hunger to eat this precious apple pie will hurt me more,
Much more than my desire to be fit like those men in commercials.
Sorry possibly good looking ads,
But I must cheat on you for good!
Those eight pies, I ate them with pride and prejudice!
For my temptation was hubris!
Nov 1, 2015
Nov 1, 2015 at 11:15 PM UTC
taller as a twisted fable skyscrape- - -
felt beyond the limits of a clan; yer
density is a moot point (whatdidyawant)
and heights are reached where heights are
found beneath belief in factuality- - who
wrung the cash register any apt poem could
be you to a clean home obsessive compulsive
but valid poetics - - valid music in the dharma
dance of life.
edward scissor hands with cloths on the palms
instead and 'DO YER DISHES' the psalm you
sing for cleanliness is next to godliness &&&
cathedrals of the genuine soul were never designed,
simply found an ancient artifact in the labyrinth of
yer soul (z)
Dec 26, 2013
Dec 26, 2013 at 12:49 AM UTC
“and he will rule over you.”
I am not ready to release my religion
the consistency of it has grown with me
i am afraid
if i unleash it from my soul
the preached darkness will consume it
i am afraid
that the possibility of its factuality and actuality
will hover in the atmosphere at noon
i am afraid
that by dismissing God too soon
he will dismiss me
Ironically, with my gaining of knowledge,
i have come to begrudge the man in the sky
who has cursed my *** to serve man
to be taken out of man, to exist only within man
he has given a text for those to quote
when arguing the entrapment of women
how am i to recognize the being
when he has ****** me
to be at the elbow of an entire gender
has blamed my kind for the original sin of sins
The Bible has shaped the complications of communities
it has manipulated the societies that barely function
it has forced people to fight for the basic rights all should hold
how am i to forgive such sins committed against my kind?
to accept the influences of a book that is thousands of years old
that still governs my everyday life?
Nov 18, 2018
Nov 18, 2018 at 4:01 AM UTC
Conjunction:
a small class of words distinguished in many languages by their function as connectors between words, phrases, clauses, sentences
- the act of conjoining; combination; the state of being conjoined; union; association:
- a compound proposition that is true if and only if all of its component propositions are true.
- the coincidence of two or more heavenly bodies at the same celestial longitude.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am in a relationship.
a colorless word
a word of no clarity
a good one? a bad one?
a professional deal,
or one that makes you squeal
with pleasure or despair
without context or content,
a description of a status,
not a state,
but a quid pro quo
I prefer
I am in a conjunction
*well recall the day
our orbits
more than crossed,
but synchronized,
when two bodies
began to travel
upon the same longitude
one direction
in conjunction
t'was the day we coordinated
on our mobile phone,
co-configured our future,
our calendars*
*nowadays,
I answer her questions
while she is commencing to think,
when her foolishness prevails,
she questions, "did you remember to..."
my answer, a question returned,
connected, constant and conjunctive,*
"and what's my name?"
an answer conveying constancy
*relationship
oft the farthest place from logical,
but you know that,
say I am in a conjunction
and the logicians will celebrate
the end of your lonely celibacy,
well they understand the truth
inherent in and of and about
your compounded proposition*
*what unimaginative creatures we be,
dispensing with beauty for factuality,
but facts are easily misread,
your fact and my fact, relationship,
the exact same fact, conveys neither
an agreement as to what that means
are we unionized, associated, or conjoined
what is the quality of
our related ships?*
so
Dear Mr. Zuckerberg,
amend my status please,
post me
as being in a state of:
a) conductivity b) connectivity c) concoctive
no, none of those
capture
what we have
captured,
so let create a new state,
a new world,
using a very old world word
post us as follows,
"Nat is in a conjunction"
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 6:32 AM UTC
I dream of you
A stranger with your face, like a mask, in front of mine
He has your strong jaw line, your brown eyes
Walks with your confident stride
But the emptiness I feel as he kisses me goodbye brings me to reality every time
A jolt like a ligatured body cascading to a halt…
A brutal surprise
Days do not pass, uneclipsed by need for rationalization
Teeter tottering from acceptance to dissent
Memories like worn film,
Played and replayed
Longing for the ending to change
I was crying in answer to subjugation
Unable to watch your mouth move as it formed syllables
Strung eloquently into carefully chosen words
Ultimately to assert our relationships Goodbye
I held my breath as you lingered at my doorframe
Felt the warmth of tear stained salty lips once last occupying yours
I watched you drive away
I waited knowing your headlights would soon fade
I dream of you
Infinite minutes of fantasy or fallacy
Made to blur factuality
Reverie in which no matter of the stories distortion
You stayed
Sep 14, 2012
Sep 14, 2012 at 2:39 PM UTC
you don’t own me. you can rent my body for a night or three, but don’t knock on my heart’s door because there’s nobody home. you could try to break in but i’m circling you in the shadows with a can of gasoline and a box of matches, waiting to jump at the opportunity to ignite this night with a little more fun than the kind that can be promised with a bottle of gin and doing the horizontal shuffle against a boxspring.
you wanted to **** me, and that was fine with me, but then you got greedy and wanted to love me and darling this just won’t do; i don’t want it, i don’t want you. (you might be inside me, but you’ll never be able to find me)
plEasE... i want to hold you close, but you have been infected and when your body is near to mine, the bile tilts and drips into the perforations in my skin. i’ve already been worn thin and this acid hits deep to the exposed nerves strung together like broken piano strings and sparking frayed wire.
petulance is a small child with his index fingers in his ears and his eyes ******* shut, as if he can erase fact from factuality; "it didn’t happen. i can turn back time, i can restart this game. insert 4 coins.”
i’m not dancing anymore; my bones are cracked eggshells held together only by how still i can stay, tongue bitten raw with the focus placed on my concentration and concealing my previous reputation--man, i’m not lost, i’m just searching for the person i used to be.
--- i don’t accept who i was, so how could i accept who you are? you are tainted and i am rust and the primordial soup of stardust, decay, and dust.
i am one incapable of loving, i am ugly and there are no pretty words to dress up my hate; i’m dressed with rage, dressed to **** i should play tennis, because love means absolutely nothing to me.
you are the kinda mistake i’ll learn nothing from.
May 24, 2016
May 24, 2016 at 1:52 AM UTC
Fantasy swirls --
taking over my mind.
I see desire caressing my small silhouette,
except I’m no longer so
s m a l l
I’m larger than life --
larger than the hands of the men
that push me into the earth.
The dreams of my desire grow like moss
all over the stinging thorns of reality.
Circuitry constructs happier versions
of the sad souls that I know --
the dullness that fills my day with black and white
At night,
my mind comes alive with technicolor brilliance.
But I’m afraid I’m aging in front of desire--
laying myself naked, body wrinkled and deteriorating
in front of dreams that cannot be sparked.
And no matter how hard I try
to ignite reality,
my fantasies have used up all my oxygen, and factuality
has choked itself to death.
-lf-
Jan 31, 2014
Jan 31, 2014 at 4:39 PM UTC
8/28
I still feel cold
Your forehead touching mine
held captive as you were
by your body’s new home,
A wooden casket
Felt so much, stoic past couldnt mask it
No breath, On my knees howling,
Body reaction analphylatic
Must be allergic to truth, Epi my body
please Save me so I can task it
Inside sight still Burns so hot
I'm melting out here,
must be made outta patchwork plastic,
Zinn man, can can you hear
Your body resting, a symbolic system
Forming a quietude of mourning moods ,
and murdered motivations, and somehow even inspirations
Friend still dead so I gotta tremble
Ritual require so we assemble, trouble is
Pain is an illusion , but how do I
pierce this false Conclusion
Falling prey powerfully to this pervasive grief,
So still no vibrations This **** must be
an optical delusion
Still in disbelief and I still feel cold.
Our whole community perceptions formed by conceptions,
Creative community informed protection
A general order of existence, clothed in factuality
mood realistic, magnitude mystic
So focused on your life,
just so we could love and miss it
Cause The candle that burns
twice as bright
lives half its life
double finite
Like a falling star you crashed
Excited the red of my stop light
Walked up to the circle jerks
And hit me with a simple sound bite
“Who wants to be my best friend
and give me a cigaretee?”
Leap of faith trying to touch a fallen star,
You could be so blunt, people left with fingers burnt
Look at the sky purple light know right where you are
So subtle, always curious to what we could learn
Hand over my heart
for 21 G=U=N Moments
You had honor.
I still have your rose,
Dead as you are,
withering beautifully
Just as cold as I am.
Aug 28, 2017
Aug 28, 2017 at 8:22 PM UTC
I still live with my parents
and at 2am I walk around
the house with ***
stained boxers and drink
caffeinated drinks,
when I drink, I drink,
when I run out of money
I drink my parents *****
I smoke and my dad
******* hates it,
I can barely afford it,
I work 3 times a week if I’m lucky,
and buy clothes I dont need,
and food I shouldn’t eat,
I ***** about religion
on social networking
sites, and I dropped out
of going to university,
I want to be a writer,
I still live at home with
my parents,
are the two synonymous?
my sister is 17,
18 in December,
and she’s going to school
for the love of GOD
stick with it
dont be like your brother,
I know I have a kind heart
and cry when my tire eats roadkill
but compassion doesn’t pay the bills,
I can sit here and personify my life
as dragging a worn sock full of pebbles
down the street and giving a sock to myself
as a gift for someone who wanted pebbles
but I’m not,
factuality’s sanded down
into some form of actualities
that resemble anthology,
I am by no means dumb,
my comprehensive abilities
are above average, I know I could
have gone through school
with ease, for christ’s sake
I was taking english literature,
I sure use a lot of religious expletives
for a sickened nihilist,
regardless of the fact,
my boxers are dry now.
Jun 3, 2016
Jun 3, 2016 at 3:25 AM UTC
Truth,
Men stop selling thy empresses to magazines and cheap sell outs!!
Truth,
Women , stop giving in to buyouts where thy men make you cheap dieouts and slaves to them!!!
Truth,
Men stop putting grenades in young lads hands, where thou bury your dead in thy sand,
Only waiting for thine next war!!!!
Truth!!
Kings and queens find your amour', not with currency you have collected!!!
Truth,
Both love each other not as objects but as one unprotected!!!!
Truth,
Men, stop thy iccusion of thine own brothers, for respect one another, they are thou, and thou are they!
Truth,
Mothers, waddle/thine children,
Don't grieve for today!!
Truth,
Fathers, show thine daughters makeup does not make beauty,
Nor can any fashion bring her rubies, for she's that ruby herself!!!
Truth,
Sibling lend thy hand, make voice with thy stand, If one screams will thou help?
Truth,
Leaders, do not befoul thy archaic province, make thine sons and daughters queens and kings of all challice,
Let them grow in purest reverance!!!!!
Truth, men stop thine own lusting, for doth not thou have a wife?
Truth,
Women don't thou to?
Truth,
Babies grow up to hear thine folks, for your skin by them was cloaked, Didst thou not know obeying is the greatest commandment?
Truth,
Boyfriends,husbands and men treat thy dame as if there's no more, call her your mi amour', not thy slave to fix your menu, and clean thine own dish!!
Truth,
Dreamers dream , and poor ones wish,
For one day you shall rulleth hand and fist to thy rich!!!!
TRUTH!!!!!
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 7:34 AM UTC
To attain you must train.
Use your brain but don't drain yourself.
It'll be a pain and you may even become less than sane..
Just make it an even plane.
Don't like the situation? Hop on a train/plane, go to Maine, Spain, or somewhere else new.
Listen to Coltrane, Jefferson Airplane or whatever you choose.
There's a stain but it can be spotless.
It will remain though, without feeling "I got this".
Don't live with whatever disdain you grew for reality..
Try and not complain, but even if it's tame don't stroke the mane of a lion, face the factuality.
While waiting for the sunshine, bust out the cane..have fun and dance in the rain
:)
Feb 22, 2012
Feb 22, 2012 at 5:20 PM UTC
I'd like to think that you were made for me.
That our heart shaped lips, were the symbol of our synchronized beat.
& that the way that I love you, was meant for the world to see.
& the mirrors I look into, never reflect the image of me without you.
Such a rare kind of love, only blessing a few. Understanding one another, like in a previous life you were me & I was you.
Like a pod with two peas, we were intended to be a pair.
Risking our lives to separate, should we dare.
I'd like to think that you were made for me.
For the way that I love you is so deep, & dearly.
& maybe one day my thoughts will become reality. Shouted from roof tops in a matter of factuality.
Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 11:01 PM UTC
METHODS
The supreme extinct of my species,
The legend of the east,
Known as the method of simplification,
The method of consciousness carnage,
The accumulator of the deceased
Omitting natured cause, to
Distort all parts of nature,
Yet retained from the moon and the sun,
Succeeded all the systematic empiric methods,
Yet decimally miscarried to Bring forth soul,
From BC to AC till Century factuality,
Thee methods to incinerate, to
Portray the impossible to possible,
Oh poor twisted nature,
Always in fear of toxic groom for earlier harvest,
Proven in black and white
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 5:24 AM UTC
Lying is a funny thing.
Deception becomes easiest.
Who wants to be hurt with with truth when a lie can soften the fall.
Slip of a silver tounge.
Smirk of underserving acceptance.
Who needs to live in this reality when creating it is so much fun.
How do you stop creating.
Existing not truly
Who believes in factuality when nothing is solid in this breath
Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 2:53 AM UTC
i
Sitting on the star's, looking down below
Waiting for an eternal exquisite, to subdue mine woe's;
Going to the country, sensually, we shalt elope
This is a story, of two in romanticism's row.
ii
In the softened aisle, carried by first class limousine
She powder's on her blush and makeup, a surreal thing;
And whilst walking down the plaza, in the mezzanine
She calleth me her handsome king, I whisper back queen.
iii
And tis she'll be mine queen, I'll be her reality
We'll maketh a dream cometh true, in all factuality;
None more restless night's, amour cometh by day
A garden with a palisade, all fruit's godly made...
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 1:07 PM UTC
Be loyal and reliable
Be responsible against dreams, wishes, sharing and love
Be patient and facet defiance
Be specific and give positive solutions
Change environment before is overdue
Opt breath and not paradise
Opt harmony and not misery
Facet factuality and not fraudulence
Hold on what or where you deserve
Be thoughtful of every step you take
Think twice before you go further
Finalise everything and do the best.
Be yourself
Dec 7, 2015
Dec 7, 2015 at 7:48 AM UTC
Imagine: factuality in the form of frustration
unable to decipher what is real and what is not
Reality check
mate. Two worlds making an unexpected collision,
gravitation pulling away trying to pick up the pieces and
stitch together a personality that has been shattered at your feet.
Reality.
Bittersweet a step towards the future a leap from a form of your former self-
abandoned dreams left like skeletons knocking their knees together shivering their jaws trying to form words,
but somehow only uttering a constant:
Reality, Reality, Reality.
Dec 13, 2015
Dec 13, 2015 at 7:27 PM UTC