"fallacious" poems
An artist,
I’m scared to be left to my thinking atoms and nuclear cells
Why solder my raining thoughts to reality
In my head I can’t trust these clockworks
Rusted gears precariously tricking forward
Tensions unbalance on a pinched nerve ending
Hesitate I retract to others knowing what I don’t know
That once I start I might fail
I don’t do what I want to
I don’t speak when I want to
When I so desperately need to
Before I explode
Violently, into a void
Void of emotionless urges
An artist like me if I so believe I am
Doubtfully attempts to act in the face of thunder
Only to cowardly hide in a cat’s whisker
Inner bricking delays outer progress
Progress I provocatively flaunt to the alive bodies
While knowing the fallacious congrats is unwarranted
I don’t believe in magical rainbow kitten surprise wishes
But I won’t also hide my love
With the internal flame dimming
I want to act the part by flipping over the stones
For the mysteries hidden away
To see them crawling out
My untapped desires
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 6:34 PM UTC
She hid her heart with fallacious layers of 'don't worry' and 'it's fine',
And she pleaded them not to try and reach her soul.
But their words tore through her defences,
And they cried as the onion girl bled slowly into oblivion.
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 5:50 PM UTC
Creating
that fallacious intimacy
wrapped
arm around arm
with a nameless
body.
It's easy to get
temporary satisfaction
from it.
Even though
you're chilled
and hollow inside.
The want
of not being lonely
can be too strong.
Keeping up
the exhausting task
of costant contact.
Never really
developing
a bond deeper
than physical sedation
can tire out.
It will ash away
as soon as you move
an inch
in that position
which is holding
unstably present.
Distance
would be the ruiner
of that
shallow fantasy.
But...
to be hundreds
of miles and moments
away from someone.
To be
alone and removed
from the one
who you have
a real, unrelenting
connection with.
To know
you are singular
in that very moment
but not unsupported.
Having them
somewhere you're not,
holding onto your
spiritual thread.
To achieve real
intimate foundation
in knowing the body
doesn't have to tie you
together.
That's an ember that,
when set to breathe,
engulfs you both.
Understanding
and feeling comfort
that when surrounded
by faces
and being unknown to them
is alright.
Since
that person
who lingers in your mind
Is a whisper
off your lips
and is there
in that place you
left them.
They've penetrated inside
that fortress of caution
and self-preservation and
they get you.
They are there,
hidden
and carried with you.
With their hands
cradling and cherishing
your heart
like the treasure
it is.
The enormous responsibility.
To be
the keeper of
warmth and familiarity
and home.
Even though
being separated
from one another
you are reminded of what
exists between you.
By
concentrating and honing
in on the weight
which lives
there.
That love
and loyalty
and equal respected commitment
to take care of what
the other is given.
The total
vulnerable
surrender of
yourself.
That is something
worth wanting.
That is something
to daydream for.
That...
is what we all
crave.
© NDHK
Oct 30, 2012
Oct 30, 2012 at 1:10 PM UTC
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
Boredom #2
I’ve never seen so many synonyms for one small noun,
Blocking maturation and enjoy-dom:
Boredom.
“Weariness, ennui: frustration;
Restlessness, dissatisfaction, unconcern: frustration;
Lethargy, lassitude, flatness and frustration;
Dreariness, repetitiveness, apathy: frustration;
Tedium, monotony, dullness. yes, frustration.”
Can it be overcome, this boredom?
No more war - the boredom won,
Exchanged for something more like fun?
It can.
A friend who, when we speak, says,
“It’s a part of nature…has no answer...”
Reasoning fallacious,
She is wrong as wrong can be
And her reasoning a fallacy.
Awake at night: hormones, full moons;
The glut of light: electric gadgets and devices,
Radios that play a song too strong, too long..
A trick I’ve learned that’s brought results;
A knack, a shortcut worth consulting
Is to train the brain to focus on/in/with the brain;
Travel round in, sense and feel…
Make it real – as if you really feel
The part you aim at, frame then tame.
In seconds you’ve an object that’s becomes a subject.
Boredom fled, you freed,
You and your mood well pleased, released
And taken places least expected,
Un-objected to by you,
The burden boredom’s through.
And doomed!
Boredom 11.24.2016/ #2 revised 2..16.2017
Revelations Big & Small; Definitely Didactic;
Arlene Corwin
Feb 16, 2017
Feb 16, 2017 at 6:30 AM UTC
My decisions are fallacious
My thoughts are surreptitious
My heartbeat arrhythmic
And my soul tormented
I help none
Speak not
And seek no intimacy
I am contemptible
Hated
Degenerate
Low
Lousy
And
I am nugatory
Aug 7, 2016
Aug 7, 2016 at 1:25 AM UTC
(Inspired by Ethan Smith's poem of the same title.)
You’ve taken so many different pieces
of others’ personalities
and put them together to form me
that I don’t even know who the real me is anymore…
Let alone knowing that I am still partially you,
as much as I hate it,
I have to recognise it…
and what’s more
As much as I hate it,
I don’t hate you
don’t hate the way you still bore a hole
into my heart,
Remember that.
Sarah…
I haven’t said your name in so long
because I’ve spent years trying to convince everyone-
myself included-
that you were gone,
that you are nothing but a distant, fallacious,
distorted memory,
that the thought of you drowns out my reality
and leaves me shaking and broken
and that at the same time,
I haven’t changed a god **** thing about myself,
but we both know that
that’s complete ********
We are two completely different people,
you made me feel like a prisoner within myself,
but I suppose you were only doing
what you thought needed to do
to survive.
It’s a shame it didn’t work,
I’m sorry, that we ran out of time.
When grandma said her baby girl had died,
that the light had gone from her eyes
she was wrong,
I told her so
but she’d be incorrect to assume that you
are still living inside of me,
instead you are ticking inside of me,
ticking like a bomb waiting to explode,
Sarah.
The name sounds foreign
your eyes are terrifying me
your old friends are boring the hell out of me;
your voice is one I don’t recognise.
Hell, I barely recognise myself anymore
and I guess I have you to thank for that
But remember
as much as I hate the fact
that you still exist inside of me…
I have to recognise that
I can’t hate someone who was me for so long.
Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 4:14 PM UTC
The optimistic existentialist
getting by on
the vapid knowledge that
nothing has meaning
but thinking it might
someday.
The shallowest
deep-thinker you’ve ever met
in a constant war
between vanity and philosophy,
drowning in mirror-hating narcissism
and my humble ego.
Introverted loud-mouth
socially inclined,socially incapable
assertion-loathing people-person.
Vengeful peace-maker,
violent pacifist
fists littered with deceptive,
fallacious,faint purple bruises.
All these things are the
drip drip drip
of drops in the bucket
of a level-headed psychopath.
I dare you
to dive into the water,
headfirst,
of my mind
where I constantly contradict myself,
like it’s a game.
Nov 17, 2012
Nov 17, 2012 at 10:44 PM UTC
I am ugly.
Maybe not in the way the human race perceives the word, but in the way I perceive the word.
I am ugly,
whether that is in the way I smile, look, dress or the way I see the world.
Maybe,
life isn’t about seeing the yourself as beautiful; maybe it’s about seeing yourself
as ugly,
as dull,
as plain,
as unappealing as it is and still, above all of that,
loving everything ugly, dull, plain and unappealing.
I don’t mind being ugly,
because ugly is what I want to be.
You hear someone say the word ugly and you think negatively. Ugly, in my mind, is even better than beautiful.
Everything has beauty, but only real things have flaws.
Being ugly is not about being unappealing to the eye,
but being appealing to the heart.
I embrace the fact that I am and always will be ugly.
I like it that way.
I am full of flaws.
I have crawled my way out of hell and got a little banged up along the way,
whether that is what someone means by the word ugly I am okay with that.
I am banged up.
I am flawed.
I am imperfect, defective, faulty, distorted, inaccurate, incorrect, erroneous, imprecise, fallacious and most of all ugly.
The most shocking part of all of this is that,
you are too.
Aug 18, 2015
Aug 18, 2015 at 1:57 PM UTC
Speechless in a place with no sound
Blind in a world without colors
Ignorant in a fallacious system
I only fight to tame the rainbow.
Mar 5, 2013
Mar 5, 2013 at 6:16 PM UTC
Our Father
Woe! to these demonic determined downtrodden deceivers,
Woe! Oh Thine merciless mendicants of misery and maleficent mendacity
Woe! Oh common corrupt conniving cunning calumnious crusaders of crucifixion...
scurrilous screeds scribbling sorrows
The Lord will sharpen thou pencils...
Thou pocket protectors whilst melt into thine *******
Thou spectacles opaque and permanently smudged...with other assorted
myriad miseries
Thou mittens will be smitten with interminable degeneracy...
Oh languid leaders of licentious lubricious larceny..
Oh craving calculating copious concupiscent calumnious falsifiers...
Oh maudlin mocking manipulators, multitudinous marauding machinations
**Thy God is an angry God
a vengeful God
a jealous God**
Oh **** pots and gall! Oh sordid ****** insalubrious denizens of depraved degeneracy
Take heed thou names mightn't appear in the almighty book of life when judgement deigns an
opprobrious order of objurgation
terrible tragic tempestous tribulations of treachery
Oh Woe! Alas!
They are fallacious febrile fabricators, fallen , fragmented flawed fugacious furtive falsifiers!!
scalawags and rapscallions..rascals of ribaldry..forlorn fallen away backslidden recalcitrants…
Oh misguided miserable miscreants, maladies and agitation be thy lot!
This rant has been brought to you by:
The Most High and Holy Priest of the Ignoble Church of Alliteration & Utter Skepticisim
Aug 8, 2013
Aug 8, 2013 at 5:54 PM UTC
Through pasts of the neglected
memories are to be forgotten
Sudden cries out for scrutiny
where punishment is quality
behind creaking wooden doors
Where cries of affection are forbidden
Echoing silence is the new existence
Beliefs of optimism are secluded
Time lost and forever diminished
behind creaking wooden doors
Who was once content
Running through fields of flowers
demolishing slices of birthday cake
now imprisoned in the hands of a stranger
behind creaking wooden doors
Never to be brought home
Dreams of merriment are inferior
Weakness grows its’ strength
Whispers of prayers are fallacious
behind creaking wooden doors
Apr 20, 2015
Apr 20, 2015 at 9:17 PM UTC
Test the limits of my light
See if i can follow
Question what is
Answer what i have already done
Pretend you know the world
When i know existence
Iv known it for far to long
I will continue to know this
I lived many lives
When you have only lived one
I show where i have been
How iv come to be
You show where you wish you were
Then turn around and go nowhere
Iv opened my third eye
While you have opened your mouth
You flex flawed logic
While i dead lift the magic
You claim your fallacious friends as kin
Then i present fellow witch's and enchantress's
You are a false guide
You need to be exposed and thus you have.....
Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 6:44 PM UTC
What did Sisyphus know
About a slippery slope;
Shoulder to stone
His feet groped,
Shifting inclinations;
Each step consequential,
A mythic joke.
Wiggle the toes,
Feel for the edge,
Sliding is inevitable.
We have no victims
On fallacious slopes.
Which lost hair defines bald;
Which millimeter makes you tall;
How many dimes makes one well off;
Which freckle makes you cute or beautiful;
Which ounce makes you fat,
From thin to Bottacelli.
Where does one begin?
Removing sentiments,
One at a time,
You find you straddle
The love/hate line,
A line drawn on a mountain top,
And splitting your Sisyphus rock.
Dec 17, 2015
Dec 17, 2015 at 12:01 PM UTC
If you cracked open my skull,
(and discerned past the alarming indirect realism
Featuring a ****** cerebrospinal fluid-y cranium,
Hewed and fractured crudely
And gushing like a cascade),
You'd unearth a disturbing array of mechanisms,
Filed, packaged, and manufactured,
Well intentioned lies and repulsive judgement,
Distressing reality and optimism open to ridicule
Self-interested altruism and desperate defenses,
An assortment of fallible hope and fallacious despair,
All nearing a point
Of sudden, piercing tragedy.
For I, too,
Am devoid of worth and life,
I, too, have done nothing
Worth life's light
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 10:32 AM UTC
A role is fashioned for each of us homosapiens to portray
Though what if such a role ‘twas fashioned
by a fallacious organization of fabulists
Who decode billions of renditions of one monograph
for narcissistic purpose of monetary gain?
Naked fidelity shan’t be placed upon a hollow existence
Nor should verses be fibbed
Why can’t religion be real again?
Sep 18, 2012
Sep 18, 2012 at 9:44 PM UTC
You call it a violin or a fiddle
Depending on how you play it
The same way life is a riddle
Depending on how you say it
Life can get raw in the middle
Depending on how you filet it
You can dawdle and piddle
Or be somewhat fallacious
But your time could run out
Running a frivolous route
And you can't look back and wish to have more
When you don't know what to be wishing for
There's a vexing question
That needs inspection
It's an intervention
Of introspection
It's a question colossal
Not learned by the fossils
That could cause a heart attack
If there is courage you lack
The question is simple
What will you do when there are no answers?
I feel like a *******
In a room full of dancers
Because they hear the question and ignore it
I hear the question and continually mourn it
I am growing clockwise
To the clock's lies
Telling me I have time
Which should be a crime
So when the judge asks me the question
I plead the fifth
Because my actions upon further reflection
Are crimes I admit
The world
I've searched this
And found
No purpose
Only change
To rearrange
The elements
Of this settlement
Like the flames
In my brain
That are never quite the same
Yet are always a runaway train
I could say God's name in vain
Or look for someone to blame
But when my humanistic duty beckoned
I said I couldn't be bothered that second
Yet now I frantically fret
For I'm filled with regret
I should've seen that coming
When I was mind numbing
But I'll learn it was too late
When I'm dying
I'll learn that this is the fate
I was buying
All just because of a simple question
It takes a lifetime to learn the lesson
Jan 24, 2018
Jan 24, 2018 at 11:01 PM UTC
Harboring suspicions from blinded eyes,
Acid gurgles under sugary lies.
The stranger swaying dementedly to and fro,
On rocking chair thoughts, their mind on show.
How should you react when a dagger is drawn,
Neutral, or reveal a suspicion is born.
Eyeing the ranks of human heads,
Thoughts emerging from crumpled beds.
As you cannot see the source of the shot in the dark,
So you only hear the tune of the singing lark.
Consipiracy theories, click codes on the mouse,
As the snake coils into the empty house.
In an unreal life, nothing recognised,
A stranger lies, looking into a stranger’s eyes.
Steadily repeated stabs of deceptions,
From foundations, of fallacious conceptions.
Locked in a make believe play of doubt,
Interrogate the evidence, turn inside out.
Within delusory ink and pens that bite.
Making sulphuric phrases into tools of spite.
Elvis on the radio confirming your thought,
Suspicion in a tormented trap you are caught.
Eliminate subject and object, unravel the day
Anchor to a certainty and then drift away
For it has always been and will always be so,
A blind thought will return to the house of shadow.
Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 6:30 AM UTC
there is teeth
in your eyes.
such monstrance
you possess for
such weak wrists
and fallacious mind.
Remember , my dear:
your plastic skin,
your bruised ***
your reverie mind,
**is ******* dissectable.**
don't **** with me.
- -
Nov 30, 2010
Nov 30, 2010 at 5:51 AM UTC
minds and mentalities
corrupted and broken
from the noxious words
and infectious actions
by the repercussion and influence
of the people we once knew
who's hardened brains perished
and withered away
who's guarded hearts mutilated
and commutated
who's perspective reciprocated
and influenced predominantly
by fallacious things
how will we,
when will we
restore our youth?
m.p.
Sep 21, 2013
Sep 21, 2013 at 5:50 AM UTC
the arrogance
oh humankind
terror
fear
suffering
exponential death
we have brought
into this plane
a world
that may be no larger
than my eyes attest
oh humankind
our purposeful waste
dispensable products
people
populations
oh humankind
our sophistry of individuality
greed
power
war
genocide
in the fallacious name of
permanence
oh humankind
we cling to our objects
our love and hate
our righteous insecurities
we claim these as authentic
but we are little more than ghosts
inflicting a blink
a glimmer
of intolerably painful light
while we
these pathetic apparitions
stubborn and feeble
dissipate
into colorless purity
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 11:55 AM UTC
You’re not a man
You put me on a pedestal
You listened when I talked like you actually cared about me
You made me laugh and forget about all of my baggage
You made me feel like I had purpose and that I was here for a reason
You attended like I actually mattered
But I was fallacious, it was all deception
You came off as a sweet and innocent guy
But deep down you’re not
You’re just an abominable boy
You don’t actually care about me or anyone else
You’re just a player and you only care about your own personal gain
You are an atrocious idea
You know the things you do are flatulent and shameful
You do them anyway because you don’t care about anyone else
You have no self-respect for girls or women
You are definitely not a man
You are an immature adolescent
A boy that needs to be put in his place
An taught a lesson
You insignificant pompous, egotistical, bombastic, narcissist
May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 12:36 AM UTC
Let not today, be the day you are hoaxed by metal amalgam coated glass.
Let not today, be the day your inner sleeping beauty,
Oblivious to her own existence, continues her slumber.
Allow my lips to kiss your soul and render your demons dead.
Let today, be the day you dispose of all those shattered glass pieces of stained fallacious images.
Let today, be the day you permit me to be your mirror,
Scrutinizing every centimeter of your body,
Showing you all the things your eyes and mirror feared to.
Let today, be the day we conquer those fears.
Let today, be everyday.
- d.b.d.
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 12:04 PM UTC