Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
pk tunuri Jun 2018
I left my home in the name of education
I left my hometown in the name of higher education
I left my state in the name of graduation
I left my family in the name of aspiration

At times, I miss my childhood
Although, the fun & friends weren't the same in my adulthood
In order to get rid of their falsehood
I left them too, for my own good

I have traveled so far away from home
Now, When I let my thoughts to roam
All they bring back is sadness and pain
And then, I left my tears to drain

I lost myself in this whole journey of life
There were times when I often looked for a knife
Not just to **** me but to end the pain
I left everything and I'm waiting for a magical rain
Submerged under heavy clouds of corruption and lies exhaled like smoke, I'm coughing

Shying away from their latching vine-like limbs and tongues dripping sugar coated temptation, I'm coping

Clutching my head, a twisting mess through the cyclone of falsehood they injected in me

Trying to evade a mind that is no longer mine but theirs, the prison I'm caught in

But with a last flittering thought

All struggle vain and bravado washed away

With nothing but their mocking smiles hovering upon me

I let them lower me to an everlasting oblivion, my humanity's coffin
S Bharat Apr 12
The Drama

The Naari and the Sage in the glade
The drama is being played.
What beauty on earth turns your gaze?
The Naari asks to the Sage.
My bonny waist, neck, face or curves?
The Sage is out of his nerves.
Neither your body nor a beautiful saari
Turns my gaze to you, Naari.
In Karma that power takes its origin.
That is the beauty, he grins.
What the hell puts on the face avarice?
In the ******* husky voice?
The Fury bursts and vents her anger,
What raises an ****** hunger?
Why on earth do you have comely god?
And the **** is seen as odd?

S. Bharat
S Bharat Apr 12
A Lad

Since they spoke
And made me do,
I saw they cut a joke,
And I did too.
Why they hit me then
I didn't know.
I learned by myself
And did grow.
Then I saw them and
How they spoke;
I laughed at them when
They cut the joke.

S. Bharat
Senor Negativo Sep 2012
No sirens are heard the morning is still,
Hope awakens, a vibrant animal
It was never dead, only hiding.
Modern individuals, can reveal
The root of their plight, let old wounds heal
Daughters, allowed to make their own decisions,
Mothers, remembered for loving care,
Fathers, passing wisdom to their children,
The hibernation of falsehood.
But what of those who never found these things?
To them we must give our fullest kindness,
We all were children once, and we all deserve love.
With forgiveness, justice, and harmony.
Let no further judgements be passed,
Let lovers rejoice,
Let shots ring out in celebration
Not as signals of termination.
These cycles never end,
But what festered yesterday,
Today can be healed.
Let lovers lie together in bliss,
Absorbed in communion of affections,
On this day let us heal each other,
As we heal our world,
One individual at a time.
I am not the dusk!

I live in immortality
I sleep in immortality
I rise in immortality.

I am not the dusk!

My words are pure
On eternal marble
Bringing down
House of falsehood.

I am the dawn
Not the dusk
I live in immortality
Declaring His glory.
S Bharat Apr 12
The Magician

Listen to my song
That I sing, O folk!
I play these tricks,
And feelings invoke.
I make you believe,
You take a pause;
Astonished you all
Give me applause.
I make you fool,
Have a demonic smile.
It gives pleasure
That makes me vile.
Lo, l laugh at you;
I feign happy or wise;
But it is short-lived
As I tell you all lies.

S. Bharat
Weighed down
by the world’s
honest eyes only perceive hope of a better earth, beyond the infallible burning

Dwelling within a premature space
reality isn’t what it
years upon years of confounding lies & schemes

Phantoms and apparitions of the fallen
the only thing piecing together the shattered earth that is

How long will the fog of
blind us to reconnecting as a
brother & sisterhood

How many of us have to
the same number of us who
when our reality came dropping down from where aloft we kept our dreams

Please, please, oh please

How long will it take us to see.
Truth is a  poetry on the mountain running down rioutously in prose swallowing up falsehood in victory of a morning glory!
CE Green Oct 2018
Mostly these days I enter a room, polka dot populated by folks with too much perfume, or none at all and presuppositions and a cold drink lingering near them.
I carry a shadowy painting with me, but it’s unfinished. It’s meticulously cared for and not yet ready to receive merit, let alone garner attention or criticism of ubiquity.

Mostly these days I find myself troubled walking into these galleries laden with baby boomer critical gazes, though some understand in a competent comparative fashion and look forward to seeing the end result. The saturation, and the color spectrum.

Mostly these days I wander into a tavern with a short story in my arms. It’s falsehood glaring, but with truth inside the lie. It is also unfinished. And yes it’s five years in the making, and everyone gawks, and watches carefully over glassware beaded with condensation, fury during October, the lights come down a bit, and I feel better. Mostly.
Fools are hosting idiots as wisemen
And playing guests to lies
Living in palatial paradise of fools
Alienating themselves from truth

Thousand heads on a Leviathan
trunk feeding on lies!

A world of fleeting illusion in delusion!

As falsehood parades in confusion
Sunshine will appear in its armour
To swallow the dark and its shadow.
Maxime Feb 2016
It's done, this darkness is so fun, why are you doing this?
Reaching that fateful separation, anger like a loaded gun, collecting every regret under the ******* sun, and will erode your soul in the long run. False claims fill your veins, multiplying your pains. These sadistic pleasures are not real, they're just as hollow as they make you feel.

Desperately I troll for truths in the recesses of my mind but only wrongdoing do I find, realizing at the same time that I'm half blind.
Sparks fly, the air is thick and yet dry, acrid smoke, windows break, hateful streaks with manic heartbeats, aggression is high get in the plane it's time to fly. A smile... I admit this is true, hands shaking, yes I'm aware of what they do, am I a psychopath in the making?

You better figure out what to do, because the horrors weighing down on you have begun to bleed through.
Open your eyes as the world shrivels and dies. Reality justified by lies, but even as your falsehood will rise please can't you see, violence will never set you free. Escape bears no small fee because you knew it was without guarantee.
Brewed with hate life is bent, boiling you away until all decency is spent.

Invisible fingers pry and I don't know why, there's people asking me questions so I must lie. Horns howl and sirens wail, what kind of person will prevail?
Staring at the reinforced concrete wall, I realize the final chapter wasn't written after all.
Seanathon Sep 2018
Address a letter to noone ever
And send it on it's way
Into the gloom of another well packed bag
To be carried out and then whisked away

Let your focus not fall on the other
Let the falsehood, the penmanship
And all of the subtle friendlessness
Be mailed into the distant future
Far far away

Just address a letter to no one ever
And alone forever you'll ever stay
Just here laughing at myself. Me and my redundant ways. Lolz
sempiternal memories
flow like a river
the resting brume on misty waters
twisting into the distant offing
the mellifluous melody of the ethereal past

like thunder above songbirds,
the illusion dissipates into a weazening
idealistic falsehood, an optimistic masquerade
the thrash of lightning onto deciduous skeletons
awakens the truth beneath

as the roaring flames erupt
the leaves effloresce to ash
the halcyon lies are swelted
into no more than gentle dust
the endless turned ephemeral
halcyon lies
burn into
ephemeral truths
Ian spaeth Apr 14
Smoke flails from the end of the his cigarette as majestically as his white flag of failure

Pondering the impossible possibilites

In between falsehood and hysteria he began to paint beautiful imagery of who they could be

Knowing full well he isn't enough
Yenson Jul 2018
May we live in and see interesting times, the old saying goes

another offers that when the mind is blind, the eyes cannot see

for me my days are interesting and the laughter readily and often comes

for the grapes of wrath brings forth mirth filled grapes on grapevine tendrils

As lemmings and sheep enact bellyaching absurdities, as the ridiculous does

Veracity on sojourn and falsehood in residence with doors firmly closed

Hamlet re-enacts hapless role, with Red Robin Hood and vigilantes to a tee

eager audiences, participatory scenes in towns and cities, leaving empty homes

come all and vent your spleen and satiate your prejudices without paying a fee

This land belongs to us, it is our birthright and we will send Hamlet to the catacombs

Nothing is private anymore, rights and freedom nailed, anywhere we roam

Ophelia not only went to Italy, she went to Hull, Turnpike Lane and even Essex

but a joke here, if all these were good, why did she come to me, you simple gnomes

perchance unlike you common goons,  she knows distinction has no comparison to thee

Your vacuous hate filled mind cannot see that difference in a Prince, that regally looms

Act two, dim, fooled actors in their Beggars Opera, screaming, 'we oppose' with glee

so called republicans, laughable in their ardent favor, ignorant of their lobotomy botches

we will do Hamlet's head in, totally unaware theirs been done in, for the brains of fleas

in a civilisation, our conscious and stable populace, roots for vigilante and mob rule, yeah

for a man of distinction is a threat reminding you of your insignificance and lack of tomes

Come friends, lets see how the home of Democracy, hounds a citizen for us all and we

lets know that Robin Hood is alive and taxing, and 'Windrush' is still active in dispatches

indigenous people power, meets criminal gang stalking, meets racism and we all drink tea

and in true cowardly fashion, its all done by insidious, indictable, nefarious, malcontents and psychopathic crazies

It is our proud duty that we should all ruin Hamlet, for mediocrity has no distinction for aspiration et excellence

Copyright LaurenceA. JUNE 2018.All rights reserved.
This is based on the experience of some one victimized by a contemporary Left-wing Group for daring to criticize their views and believing in aspiration. This poor fellow has been hounded all over London, lost his job, isolated by smears and outrageous lies now broke and on the verge of suicide,, all because he aired his own stance against socialism. The Reds are forsaken bullies, I dare say this. In the old Soviet States dissidents are subjected to a program called Slow death, where they are discredited, harassed, hounded, mobbed everywhere, isolated, they are smeared, character assassinated and persecuted. they are unfairly dismissed from jobs, denied basic Human rights and some are framed and institutionalized and declared insane, in essence their whole lives are summarily destroyed and most end up committing suicide. I regret to tell you that this happens to some in this great Nation too. Pls research Criminal Gang-stalking, Cause Stalking and Community Vigilantes online.
Ken Pepiton Oct 2018
twinkle wrinkles, seen close up

they are the tracks of wind driven tears on a sunburned face,
at the edges of the eye,
the per if ery of what perfidy* made you think you saw.

come see how come we saw too far and fell from grace to glory.

That is the story.
The good new on the old new built bottom up,
like Gobekli-Tepi.

--- horizons past the lusters after
wisdom's arcane quarry ---

we live,
we learn, we die to know why and we do
as soon as forever starts

it never stopped, hence, forever is what we agree it is.

This, now we remain in until we die, moments from now,
then, now
or don't

ultimately, whence comes the will to breathe?
go on, answer.

or ignor, innocence is no excuse, you know.

these quest ions all have positive and negative points,
anionics seek cationics,

OHOH, what if cathode rays never got past the atmosphere,
those are causing all the static-info-friction

Bad vibe waves corrupting the qualcommsplitfreqs,
left from millions of hours of I love Lucy and
Dobie Gillis. Mr. Kruschev, build a wall.
Show our boys their counterparts failing to escape,
crucified on barbed wire west of the Brandenburg Gate,

Bel's gate, arche de tri'umph, eh? Confusion won the war,

but war won't work here. NULL ified it, we did, into the NULL with all its lies each time

we catch one. As good as never was.

*Poet's Policy of acknowledging previous ignorances,
acts of ignoring
resulting, effectively, in wasted years
perfidy (n.) means since
1590s, from Middle French perfidie (16c.), from Latin perfidia
 "faithlessness, falsehood, treachery,"
from perfidus"faithless,"
from phrase per fidem decipere 
"to deceive through trustingness,"
from per "through"
(from PIE root *per- (1) "forward," hence "through") + fidem (nominative fides) "faith" (from PIE root *bheidh- "to trust, confide, persuade").

[C]ombinations of wickedness would overwhelm the world by the advantage which licentious principles afford, did not those who have long practiced perfidy grow faithless to each other. [Samuel Johnson, "Life of Waller"]

From <>
parts and pieces, puzzles un puzzling taking peacmaking classes from the crow and the clouds
plots of land that dance in spasms
slam dancing
bed frames with slots of wood
parallel lines on the oud
should i bother
with all this fruit
i choose to rot a while
in style of course
so much nonsense
this is truly *******
a store bought wedding
a slow decline into nothing
ship me your wisdom and i’ll fly you to the moon
we’re departing sooner than you thought
you dream until noon
selves are solitude
i command you to commune with your soul
solid is a word
worlds are frozen in dreams
after the apocalypse
there is ice cream for supper
among the rubber and the forest
there is a carpet of grasses and herbs
left to dry in the dehydrator
upon the lowest setting i am making
the bed and taking my shirt off
stores demand consumption
yet in purchasing you are corrupted
assumptions of negligence
thread our hearts with your effulgence
i sense you are suffering
forever there is a differential
a disintegration of the essential
once upon a time i spoke in rhythm
made sense and could suspend judgement
now there are no more words
only thoughts
when the thoughts end nothing will be left
i’ll be suspended
like a balloon or a parachute
like a woman who seeks to become president
can you show me evidence that we are not asleep
the blossoming rose
has stolen my clothes and returned our damages
shelves of shadows on hungry tiptoes
i seek necessity in your eyebrows
streaks of lightning shape your features
i see incandescence throughout your water
you are the teacher seeking for the most high
blessings upon the eternal
in splendor the triumphant allegory
crowns thy falsehood victorious over demons
arbors of willows in relationships
G E Sousa May 14
Feelings of bewilderness and falsehood,
Tearing me in shambles misunderstood,
In manyfold colours I drown imbued,
Looking forward to mayhap soon elude.

Emptiness burying me six foot under,
Silence as deafening as thunder,
My heart and eyes fainting in a flutter,
My soul and mind parting asunder.

The Earth keeps on spinning, with or without me,
The Seasons keep on cycling, with or without me,
Why would the desert ever mourn,
For a grain of sand or the lack thereof,
Why would the ocean be forlorn,
For a droplet only gazing above
Seanathon Sep 2018
When all around you is falling down
When the grass and trees and cricket sounds
Are no more there alive than dead
When your world is crashing inside out
To sky be bound
Look up instead

When the rolling clouds are sounding out
And the river ink is pouring down
And the flood is in your basement found
Stand proudly upon on your here and now
Don't sink your brow
Look up instead

When the voices jeer you all about
And the rumors populate the town
When commotive chaos finds your head
Don't let the horizon slip you now
Though falsehood fed
Look up instead

And when the never becomes the now
And the time like nightfall pulls you down
When the sunshine strays its fading stead
May the storms internal you allay
In peace be found
Look up instead
In short. When the turmoil grips you and the storm berates. When your hope is in shambles and your life is at end. Look up and see his goodness again. Because even the storm displays his power. Even the end portrays his goodness. You just have to look at it properly.

Easier said, right?
Next page