"falsification" poems
Thou tangle the mortality
And seek the mourning of its course,
With an outrageous cloak that falls adrift
To have its custom afloat.
The decorations, thereof flatters this turmoil
That has its doubts and moments,
A longevity beheld upon the chores of the subject,
Never cognizes its everlasting trials,
For those of which handles the elation
Of successive falsification.
I know not of the clumsiness of hymns,
That sighs the mourning of a course,
The chaotic iteration of single pauses
And the faltering of a mere slope.
I know not of the turmoil
That bedecks the frostbitten clavicles,
Onto which no sigh wavers
A petition of no faze and any dome.
I know not of the cloak
That nestles around a haze;
Bringing confusion that betrays every vivid sense.
Let it be the matter, ‘tis a matter of time(!)
Would it morph itself around the mourning mould,
When it dries away with the mud?
Oct 7, 2018
Oct 7, 2018 at 6:17 PM UTC
I feel trapped inside my mind, and my body.
As if it does not belong to me, it is not mine.
I am stuck in a human body, filled with dreams, hopes and desires.
All kinds, hopes filled with happiness, dreams that turn to dust without being touched, and sinful and twisted desires that seem they will never be brought to this humans reality.
I feel like I'm throwing up invisible flowers,
Hanahaki Disease.
But because they're invisible to others and possibly even me,
I do not know if it was truly there or to be.
I'm infected with my depressing and constantly moving and changing thoughts, do I need drugs to fix my brain?
I want everything to stop this growing disease, this infection that has leaked into my brain and corrupting my thoughts.
Purity is a lie.
Sin is truth.
Life is meant to be on the edge.
Death is a sweet embrace we should take.
Falling from my bed, I feel like I want to go deeper into the ocean under our human world, and drown in the true reality, and to no longer suffocate from breathing in the waves of falsification.
I wish to see, the real me.
What everyone else sees to be me,
but I do not even know myself?
I wish to be seduced into something true and beautiful,
I wish to not be fed lies that the world persist to be the truth.
I wish to go to my salvation.
I'm A Sick Girl.
Jan 23, 2018
Jan 23, 2018 at 7:40 AM UTC
An Old Loner...
Let anger replace the yoke of an egg,
Chicks born in turmoil, soon left, to beg;
Shell is damaged with just one evil peck,
The Cuckoo landed,on different deck.
She placed evil eye on this christmas bird,
Made sure it kept him, away from the hurd.
He's the loner, emotional recluse,
The outward bounder, who discovered the truth.
Floundered on falsification and lies
All he needed was truth to devise,
A cup full of natural happy stings
That gifts the hope that church bells still ring.
Bay fronted windows, a mirror on life
Remembers that smile, the last from his wife.
Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 2:02 PM UTC
We need others to play with us to not feel isolation,
We need to bring joy to others to feel elation,
We crack like delicate porcelain then be viewed as a deformation,
Our minds are more of an aberration,
As we yearn for someone's admiration,
We are viewed as objects by the nation,
We strive to look different by modification,
Ending up with falsification,
With envious glares acting as devaluation,
Although we are each marked by our own notation,
We submit to society's suffocation,
All in all we are the gods and demons dolls.
Artificial, pretend and above all,
just a recreation.
Jun 2, 2016
Jun 2, 2016 at 8:33 PM UTC
You can't just dine; It's not time.
Sleep, lines the bottoms of her eyes.
The circles form overnight, deprivation, falsification.
So if her common sense neglected?
It's 'cause something bigger's detected.
She doesn't mind being left behind.
She would rather go slowly to watch the sunset, anyways.
No reason to look behind the smokescreen (there are some things that no one needs to find.)
Look on as she survives another attempt, kinetic in her learning. Pleading guilty in a non guilty crime.
Avoiding awkward by jumping the fence to turn and step.
Can't help the second nature, her reflexes from past experience stay quick-just to hate her.
They taught her well, as she sought to dip-set
(back to her speculum of normalcy.)
Walking down the street, curbing the beat.
Lights flicker in and out; shadow-boxing down the alleyways of her life.
Her eyes may have welled, only to dry; in the heat of the moment, regrettably she could only, sigh.
The one thing her mother taught her is to never believe in surprise. Collectively she will be waiting for the day and time when she gets hit from behind the lines, life flies by and she is not afraid to die.
"And she will bite her bottom lip all she wants."
May 20, 2010
May 20, 2010 at 8:59 PM UTC
System malfunction
Analytical predictions based on formality
Lithium hallucinations develop into swarms of locusts
Instant addiction to the possible restrictions of never
Caught stuck in the storm with a body full of metal
Falsification addicted to contradiction
Testimonial analysis documenting excessive possibilities of black
Hear the screams singing the golden song into the night
Ceremonials speak precision accuracy when you listen intimately
Apprehension of the individual
***** induced waterfalls
Apr 25, 2011
Apr 25, 2011 at 6:21 AM UTC
Life’s comprehension
Limited by apprehension
So many contradictions
Dissent caused by frictions
Relentless falsification
Path leads to dereliction
Facade of colorful graffiti
No one heeds an entreaty
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 11:52 AM UTC
Hollow words, like hollow bones can break and shatter
They can pierce the flesh, boil the blood
Seething from the open wound comes
Every ill intention
Every falsification
Staining the crisp, white linen
No amount of homeopathic remedy can remove the stain
Try chemicals
But you'll find that for any blood removed
It's replaced with the sour odor and discoloration
From whatever "oxy" product you may try
Is it worth it?
All that marketing and franchising for something that doesn't remove
But replace?
Can anything truly be removed
purely, permanently?
Nov 19, 2015
Nov 19, 2015 at 12:06 AM UTC
Artificial stimulation zapping all imagination
Any creation or sensation lost in a noise of falsification
Cry to the nation so the population will rejoice with elation
That it is time to remove the isolation caused by the simulation
Simulation of free vocal amplification
Illusion and contagion of the authority’s rules and regulation
Solidification of these false ideals and therefore separation
From should be and what is- it’s horrification
The consumer’s attention faces new redirection
Guided meticulously by the producer’s invention
So our ‘choices’ aren’t choices but some chaos prevention
An anarchy intervention
An eluded operation executed by the organizations
A silent one sided war already won by associations, corporations and cooperations'
Verifications of strict policies and legislation
Followed of course by a strong litigation
What a celebration!
For select thoughts and their determination
Then the glorification
Of these upper class suits with some reputation
The voice of the people silenced with their unification
Stifling imagination
Essentially middle and lower robbed of vocalization
De-individualization, crumble fortication
Fine, its come down to this expectation
Of this twisted experimentation of freedom and selection
We’ll Bind together to form a protection of creativity, originality and our own perfection
So let us make this correction:
The one sided war is short lived and our individual minds will prevail, there is no question
For the minority majority will make a distinction
Between the choices given to us and our choices made with intention
Apr 15, 2011
Apr 15, 2011 at 9:31 AM UTC
True story used to cause me to remember,
Christmas coming to mean the story told,
I first got the story from a family Bible, yep.
We had one, and my mom must have read it,
because, when I was no older than six,
I asked her where the story of Christmas
came from, and she opened that Bible,
to the very story.
The Good News, surely was then, had been,
since. And now I think I may recall
that child like faith, in a seed
planted as true as can be,
the story came from the tellers of the story.
Why? Curios addiction, pineal primitive will
to know what works and what kills.
Men of letters, let us make up our minds,
in the realm of words, lust is not a factor.
Any vital juices spilt trigger art' official guilt,
mea culpa, my one 8.2 billionth
of all breathers, I caused hope to fail…
falsification
of this sapience capacity- projected
light where Plato had shade,
of course you may now remove earbeans
with no other one the wiser.
Apr 5, 2023
Apr 5, 2023 at 5:41 PM UTC
Power
Exuberance
The misfortune
of having it all
I’ve become one like them
Growing accustomed to the norm
Finding peace of mind in
the minimal
Pretend people
practicing prayers
they don't believe in
truth be told
They ran, for they feared
having something real
They wanted to have security
in falsification
Those little laughs in between
re-lived stories of the time
when nothing really happened
Nothing ever really happens for them
Rather than love and happiness,
Money and clinical-depression
Censorship in their realities
They had nothing having it all
In the end
we are all but one
Carrying the deeds of
another man's profits
While street prophets
carry out the deeds of
our days that will
never be shed
onto the normality of
the dead
Sep 26, 2016
Sep 26, 2016 at 3:17 PM UTC
My actions were ones of fury,
Yet they were frank and honest,
That time I asked you to leave it alone,
You kept pressing on it,
Your stubborn head wanted answers,
While I waited for my boiling blood to be chilled,
I wanted nothing but to be there for you,
But you were so against the idea of it,
As if I were to turn left,
You would've snapped my neck,
I don't want to be an enemy but you've made me leap into the breach,
Now I stand,
With a pile of paper and pens,
Wondering if what I did was an act of fury or integrity,
I don't feel remorse,
But I do feel sorrow,
To what I have yet to know,
And I wish for you the best,
But then again I wonder if I do,
You'll twist my words,
To ones of falsification,
And I find myself wonder if I even bother,
To give you a fraction of time,
After all,
You threw me out the window,
As if I was a piece of paper that's redundant,
And I'm left with a song of words unspoken.
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 7:58 PM UTC
Escape black holes pinch
It won't be a cinch
dimming dreams through
light listless dismay
heartless everlasting permanet
falsification die's away
Feb 14, 2011
Feb 14, 2011 at 6:47 AM UTC
It chills the marrow of my bones,
Rattles my empty chest with a whooping gasp.
We live in a mindset clouded by falsification, washed over by an image of perfection.
With their blinders on, the sheep will follow forever-Their shepherds will lead until there's nothing left to lead to.
There will come a day when the birds no longer sing, and their throats will no longer resonate with the comfort we cling to tightly.
I fear for the world, the Earth. I hear its cry and try to help.
But I am only one person.
I fear for the children and lovers, blinded by ignorance
There will come a time where forests may smolder to nothing, and the leaves will no longer rustle in the wind.
I long for a renewal, a second chance.
I may never live to see one,
Our planet spent to nothing more than a piece of astrological garbage
There will come a time when everything will go to nothing,
There will come a day when everyone will finally see what we've done,
And that day will be one day too late
Mar 5, 2014
Mar 5, 2014 at 8:22 AM UTC
These star eclipsed ceiling nights
Delay departure of my daydreams
No consequences you concede
Winter’s darkness in the middle of autumn
Your diction speaks the genuineness of falsification
Delimited by vacant vessels
Saviors always salvage the already saved
No time remains and we’re burying ourselves
In open arms and sobbing lies
Time is of no significance in our petrifaction
Time is of no consequence in our purification
Early on in the end
We’ll end up dancing alone to the grave
Early on in the end
We end up dancing alone to the grave
You are the beating of my heart
You are the tearing of us apart
You are forever ended
Sep 25, 2011
Sep 25, 2011 at 7:48 AM UTC
She closed the eyes that he swore were beautiful, and let a shaky puff of air leave her lungs. If it was her last she wouldn't have cared because forcing every one after felt like dying. The pain washed from her chest down her arms to the very tips of her fingers and lingered only for a second. It came when the breathing halted, when her body jolted in silent sobs.
She was very good at pretending, and had mastered the falsification of every emotion that she allowed to reach the surface of her face. Some days, though, she just couldn't hide the churning waves in her stomach and blamed any discomfort others could see on exhaustion.
No one knew the hollowness that ironically filled her heart. She couldn't stand the thought of being just another over dramatic girl seeking attention. She refused to cry. Crying, she had learned, got you no where. No one cared when you cried, they just blurted a calloused, "What's wrong," and usually just left it alone. Sadness and reasons for it were just pushed aside and buried because they didn't matter in the real world. No one cared that you hurt, that you needed help. You weren't even allowed to ask for support; as soon as you did you were called weak, a cry baby. She didn't want to be a cry baby...
Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 1:30 PM UTC
I am nothing but a complicated creation;
stranger from the norm, a complete abomination.
Trapped in a paradox, world unquestioned;
walking with a mask in pure falsification.
Episodes of this lifeless body passed;
wasted! is it wasted?! i know nothing will last.
Unbent, unbroken, i must make a decision;
i can't! i can't ! for it would scatter shallow impressions.
What should i do? life is not an infinite equation;
unbent, unbroken, should i make a decision?
No! you can't or you'll live in damnation;
i am really nothing but a complicated creation.
- MKA
Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 at 9:36 PM UTC
A lie in a person's life is about as useful as putting no filling in a porky pie
Untruth about an innocent life is telling others they are like an illogical algorithm,
Falsehood is the tool of cheats and fraudsters which separates the neighbourhood,
Fib can be found at the beginning of almost every criminal activity, just a tip,
Fabrication of evidence against **** sapiens is our human destruction,
Deception is only for sporting rivalry, has no place in a human relationship,
Falsification for hiding the fact and truth, the easier our mind, heart, and soul yield to temptation,
White lie is like writing white ink on white paper and finding the truth stained on paper when dry,
Half-truth is an incomplete symmetry leaving the divine being looking for the other half,
Exaggeration forms our expectation higher than necessary leading to flaws in execution.
Jan 29, 2016
Jan 29, 2016 at 10:08 AM UTC
We were in the kitchen the night you told me. You said, nonchalantly, as you always have done, you said 'I like this life just fine'. I thought about this for ages the way one can feel a lover's hip cupped in the palm of their hand for hours after the encounter. Now, perhaps you meant when you were little, and I did not know you. There are stories of you running, cherub faced and limitless, through a sunflower field in dungarees with ***** shins and muddy faces; playing like one of the boys. Back when people used to tell you you looked just like your mother and she would squeeze your small hand tighter. You were her one grasp on this frightening universe. Perhaps, you have came to the reasonable conclusion she is proud of you. Maybe, instead, you were thinking of this house. This small red build up in Manchester where we have built our life and where the foundations of our affection derive from such purity. We will raise children and die in these halls, happy and old, knowing our love was the chief beauty of my entire existence. I even gave some thoughts to those nights in Greece where you were drunkenly, and magically, dancing with waiters until caramel sunrise brought you my way. I asked you the next morning what you meant, you smiled sleepily and kissed both of my cheeks with a hazy mouth. 'You love me in this life', you said, 'and such is all I have ever wanted in this world'.
So yes, I love you in this lifetime, and all my other lifetimes. I love you forever and shall adore you just as ferociously in the eternal falsification of our afterlife together. If there is ever any doubt, I wish to spend the rest of my life by your side and then whatever happens next is ours too. If I can, then I will....
But, I like this life just fine.
Jan 14, 2018
Jan 14, 2018 at 9:03 PM UTC
Only time will tell
if we make the breakthrough
from one half
to another
where the light
shines to a space
fantastic
with creation
with realisation
immune
to falsification
to something that never
was
not in this life or
the next.
Aug 9, 2015
Aug 9, 2015 at 7:10 AM UTC
a girl sits in the
void of her anxiety
she hopes for light
a dream of falsification
she has become
something that she
never was
she is trapped
in the box
of darkness
she is i
i am she
i feel her pain
her agony
i scream
as she screams
i see her
moan death's name
i touch the box
where her face
should have been
i whisper inaudibly
i see her emotionless eyes
murky secrets lie inside
her hands form fist on the glass
all while a smile creeps on her face
i scream
as she smiles
'its only for good'
she breaks the glass
and time freezes
the glass shards
seep in my heart
i scream loudly
im trapped in her fatal heart
i get swallowed
by her deadly smirk
i am overcome
i am only dead
(b.d.s.)
Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 11:16 AM UTC
Surprise overcomes
Words seem nonsensical
Fact checks become
Daily headlines
Pure prevarication
Not mere vagueness
Untruths, shams
Two-faced attempts
To cheat to win
In a battle of ideas
Better still, flooding
Air-waves, all media
With bogus pre-text
That fend off
A battle
From ever being fought
Fabricated?
More than merely falsification
Calling truth a lie
Shout-downs over debate
A campaign designed to
Discredit, debunk and divide
* (back in the day we called this **** and bull)
Oct 26, 2020
Oct 26, 2020 at 2:25 PM UTC
Faded beyond vocalization,
Wrapped up tossed inside the corners of insanity,
I fold to your cruelty in order to breathe in salt,
Ice the wounds ice the wounds,
Alive in the hell of domestication,
It began with the cultivation of man,
Control thine mother, thy provider of nourishment,
The sustenance befallen from between thy lips of greed.
Heed the warnings of derailment,
Scavenged by the succulent teeth of possession,
Souls gambled for corporate entertainment,
Role the dice, Role the dice,
Snake eyes trail in the falsification of capitalistic propaganda.
A new deck,
A new calling ringing from the line of sobriety,
Here now the declaration of one fool,
Too emotionally enabled to create,
Never to bow to societal expectation,
Lost to silent words of wisdom,
Burned in every cigarette that becomes embedded between honest lips,
Exhale the infection of doubt.
Dec 29, 2016
Dec 29, 2016 at 5:18 PM UTC
Born into
a dying moment
dry breathing
and distant sounds
the Echoplex
of stacatto reverberations
as Causeless care
is Shuffled lightly
each dealt
a sovereign play
of words - deeds
becoming seeds
planted
below
the Flatline screen
the rooted vein
of blood -fed
abberations
averted versions
by abbrogated
participation
in colluded
Instituted falsification
declarations
leaving each one
only the thinnest
of self- satisfying sanctuary
within
those deepest recesses
of absolution
that place
that never sees no sun
rooted deep
entangled
by rote remote repetition until received - until believed there was nothing... Nothing nothing ... nothing we could have done.
Mar 13, 2021
Mar 13, 2021 at 12:29 PM UTC
Love without any limitation
Work without any expectation
But with sheer dedication
Fight with aggression
Hate with caution
Treat people with compassion
Think before making a decision
Handle your problems with precision
Be to everyone around you an inspiration
Generate positivity and motivation
Never be desperate for adulation
Just do good work and sooner or later you'll get the deserved appreciation
In your lover's eyes shine like a constellation
Make her heart feel on a daily basis that special sensation
Always be honest with her...
..Avoid falsification
Fill her life with elation
To hell with sophistication
Be simple
Be humble
Be the best you can..
...Someone worthy of being called a 'man'
Nov 24, 2015
Nov 24, 2015 at 9:33 AM UTC