"falsities" poems
I am darkness I am light, I am chaos I am might, lies and truth unite,
Fear and bravery, envy with hatred and love finally combined,
I am the difference between illusions and dreams, nothing as it seems,
Nightmares and mirrages, a realm of infinity and finite by its means,
I am fusion and fission, with one simple yet very complex misssion,
Energy and indolence, a wall, another fence, questions upon answers
If small lies give rise to grand falsities, what is the truth gonna bring ?
A place where you should be able to feel reality and fantasy's sting,
Apathy and concern unite, come closer I don't really bite, trust me,
My teeth look sharp, yet they are blunt, you can rant or stay calm,
I am a living death wandering yet standing still, does it make you ill?
Generosity and greed are both present while they are missing, still!
Control the lies of your uncontrollable tounge, listen to the silence,
Could we possibly agree that this unanimity relies in total dissension?
I am the discouragement for your precious, little yet pure intentions,
Aimlessness for hope of a future unexplored yet near enough to grasp
I am the rue in pride, a lamp without light, elusive but not transient,
A harmonic ramgage, riots over the horizon in undefined dark light,
I am malevolent and benevolent, bent yet straight, right behind you,
What am I ?
~ Umi
Mar 21, 2018
Mar 21, 2018 at 7:53 PM UTC
Our fighting spirit is the flame of our souls
Ensures us to reach in our most desperate times impossible seeming goals
Even if you should be full of misery, full of holes, it picks you up, fills you with confidence, pride, excitement and determination,
Maybe this seems like an exaggaration, or an excavation of falsities,
But with it you would be able to work as hard as the birds, or even the bees,
Even though you seem like you can't go on, saying " this is it "
There is an ember from the bottom of your heart which has been lit,
So get rid, of all your doubt, of all your inconfidence, rise from the fire
I am sure, the fight is gonna be worth it, you will reach even higher,
As long as you carry this flame within you and the noble desire,
To never, ever give up.
~ Umi
Jan 24, 2018
Jan 24, 2018 at 7:40 PM UTC
Hi! The creator too is blind,
Struggling toward his harmonious whole,
Rejecting intermediate parts,
Horrors and falsities and wrongs;
Incapable master of all force,
Too vague idealist, overwhelmed
By an afflatus that persists.
For this, then, we endure brief lives,
The evanescent symmetries
From that meticulous potter's thumb.
7.6k
The last judgement shall not hold mercy on the servants, but it shall not wrong them in their deeds either, it is the final decision to make,
The end of a long journey which births the desire to see you again,
Your reflection cast on a mirror in a sea of pure lunacy shall clear it all
It will open your heart and reveal all of your sinning impurities cast away by words of falsities, triggered by a simple yet small lie,
Heartfelt dream scapes shape the mirror; In a world so dark that the stars will blind ones sensitive, mortal eyes within seconds to come,
Experience of past events suspend memories from the future's dawn.
I will not show you any sad dreams, I'd like to heal your wounds if you have striven for righteousness and purity such as patience,
If you however have striven for corruption then you should know,
There's unending punishment and darkness awaiting your arrival,
Here we do have unlimitted time after all, unlimited cruelty and fear,
Love comes in misery, ends unexpectedly yet you won't see, will you?
Time ticks on, goes by and follows it's clear path in this devil's world which I am lurking over, ruling, which you have intruded tonight,
Take my hand oh all you pure souls, the love of light is for all to bear!
~ Umi
Mar 14, 2018
Mar 14, 2018 at 4:19 PM UTC
Complete, four wings stretched for you as an obsticle, big and ominous, they block the light of the sun as it crosses your way,
He will promise you that over walls you will go if you obey him,
Paying from the rule and standing proud with spiteful intent,
Or maybe he will make you believe to be able to shoot over the sky,
What a trecious act of misleading lies, leading to greater falsities,
The cards of fate are already dealt, do not sell your soul, do not lose,
Filth comes in many classes and ranks which cannot be conveyed,
Evil knows tricks into your heart which cannot be explained at all,
His footsteps will leave their mark on you once purgatory is served,
Burning up and feeling priceless now would simply be foolish, dull
Waiting for the cracks of a shady eternity once he breaks his promise,
Beware, the sweetest words might be a game of seduction for you,
Clouded, lost, uncertain of its outcome, struggling for the light inside,
Make another move, you won't be able to turn back, broken light finds no place in this realm of unending decisions to be made today,
You will see it is true, but then it will be far too late for realisation,
Each soul has it's given date, now as beneath the soil do you want to be laid with your records flawed, at last it comes to heaven or hell,
Will you decide now or will you delay, my precious treasure,
He will promise you wealth from amongst the heavens, to lead to poverty from the deepest hell, a cricle you won't escape from,
His promises are transient lies, all he wants is your soul which dies
Do not listen, turn away, do not become a silly devils prey
~ Umi
Mar 21, 2018
Mar 21, 2018 at 12:30 PM UTC
Open, oh eye of ones heart
The spiral of desire continues with no end to it, if lies are to pollute the world it is time to purify yourself from them all, one by one.
A hearts eye, sees through lies, but that is not its only purpose in a chest full of light and compassion in which it can greatly be found,
It serves so much more, all sealed uner a truthful surface and a righteous core, careless about anothers looks, the way they speak, superficiality such as shallowness are wiped out by it completely,
The hearts eye sees anothers soul and what they truly are, a judgement far away from personal preferences or falsities caused by instincts of ones heart which are likely to bring light headed frivolity,
It cherishes the good, the beauty of the soul except for wealthy appearance, mavelovence within greedy devilish behaviour and spite,
Projected like a story, the fear of what they see is but of themselves, if such an eye hits a devil right on the head, exposing his treaciousness
What lies behind such a courtain of darkness, may it be good? Evil ?
Come pray by my side, if you shiver from that far away I cannot help you, as sadness clouds your vision in a courtain call of pure grief,
Let me open your eyes, so your wounds may heal.
~ Umi
Apr 3, 2018
Apr 3, 2018 at 6:19 PM UTC
To death in love!
The eye of ones heart closes for their beloved, their most precious treasure of them all clouded by emotions stored for them deep within
Unanswered love leads to a stinging mind of the subscocious, caught and rose by a burning ember of feelings, turning into an inferno,
Blinded by it, they will not acknowledge the falsities of their partner, nor their mistakes or even their treaciousness, as for them he is perfect, conciously imaged as the ideal and the best they ever had,
But no! God forbids, they learn about the art of blinding love while they sink to the bottom of a sea of passion and affection, in a last remote of a courtain call to simple yet manifest carelessness,
Small lies lead to grand falsities overlooked by a noncaring closed eye
Rekindled in a dream they rather follow their instincs than the truth,
Illusions cast by embers of love deep within the unconcious, like a courtain to be blocked from all light, holding on to dear of what is loved and cherished, praised and adored, an emotion leading stray,
The philosophy of a hated person, would be to never close the open eye of ones heart, so you fall not too hard when you begin to love,
But when all falls apart, realisation is like the thorns of countless roses
It is the heart sign of selfless love.
~ Umi
Apr 4, 2018
Apr 4, 2018 at 8:52 AM UTC
-SHAME on me-
I should’ve known you weren’t worth trusting
Your bitter apologies meant nothing
You said I was extra ordinary
But it was just another form of hostility
Based solely on your own insecurities
-Shame on YOU-
Corrupting my identity
Making me my own enemy
Just so you could be temporary
Enhanced Pleas of who we’re supposed to be
Opened my eyes to a false reality
Because you said things you didn’t mean
Stitch me back together however you please
Leave me to be a clone of society
An element of conformity
Embodied with empty memories
And I can’t seem to find a remedy
For all the sins I’ve been committing
For all the lies you’ve been spitting
As if they were light casualties
And this is our destiny
The ONLY way it can be
Encompassed with frequent falsities
The truth lies somewhere in between
But honesty is no match to humanity
Jan 4, 2016
Jan 4, 2016 at 2:13 AM UTC
My conscience is loud
yet my voice never comes,
It's disarming what dependency can do, altering your character,
until you are simply a character,
weaving falsities into strands of fools gold, until you're living in an armor
of the emperors new clothes.
I swore to myself,
that I would never again be this person, the one with my finger
on the self destruct button,
but sliding down the hill
comes much easier than climbing.
And at the bottom,
numbness awaits me,
making me fearless.
I feel the cold wash over me,
goosebumps all throughout my being,
as the waves begin to rise.
She covers me,
salty yet sweet,
and everything makes sense.
The meaning of life in a pretty peach casing.
I am Invincible.
I am Oblivious.
She peaks and soon crashes,
repeatedly against me,
making me feel like the world could end and I wouldn't even think to care.
But what at first seemed exhilarating, wears on me to no end,
the buildup and constant let down.
She's lost her novelty,
and with that,
the numbness fades.
Sobering up for long enough to realize,
I am the definition of insanity.
Inviting you back in so often,
I no longer have defenses against you.
You snuck into my priorities without me ever noticing.
Like that song you hate so much but can't help to sing.
Will I ever get rid of your tune in my head?
Will I ever be able to say no when you call?
Jun 12, 2017
Jun 12, 2017 at 8:51 AM UTC
Discernment of facts escape a blind eye
Incalculable deceit fell upon naive assumptions of decorum
Virtues so easily replaced by a blanket of colorful chattel
Now, countless blankets dance about, as ghosts
on a paved route chosen with intent of endless future passage
And now, to escape the realm of falsities
every eventide is exchanged for repose and closed eyes
Pleasure, promises, and poetry she gave
only to have something to take away
In vengeance of a caustic past
Aphrodite unleashed artful malevolence into a fallen heart
Oh, how so much exists
where there is nothing
Emptiness can be full of such desire
And oh, the bitter taste of sweet words
from the unrestrained lips of a liar
An offering cloaked with savory fruit in cordial hands
Swearing to give it all in the big apple
and then seducing to her roots in the yard
Absorbing a soul
Only to create a martyr of forlorn cause
An abomination can appear so sweet
when emptiness needs filling
A demon from below,
delightful,
before killing
Nostalgia, a trail of footsteps in the mud
Like a fingerprint with an unquestionable owner
Arduous wails reaching the extents of one's universe
as a pawn and patriarch share reflection in the stagnant tide
knowledge of good and evil, once a desire, now a curse
yet, finally held
Gratefully numb with inescapable acceptance
Scott Mitchell
09 Dec 2012
Dec 9, 2012
Dec 9, 2012 at 12:18 PM UTC
Happy thoughts shape shifting into illusions of monsters.
Metamorphosis.
A caterpillar to a butterfly.
That's the final phase of that lonely caterpillar.
War of the mind.
I'm morphing into a hideous demon.
The face melting into a pile of mush.
Broken limbs, torn flesh,
skin oozing to the floor.
That is what WE want...
A man made metamorphosis.
Now the limbs can be reconstructed into the proper shape.
Molding, bandaging, painting.
Perfect eyebrows,
luscious lips,
rosy cheeks,
smile plastered on.
It all looks real.
No raised eyebrows even with all the head turning,.
Neck breaking.
The unimaginable has been deemed the reality.
We are not what we eat.
If we were we would be perfect.
Eating the perfect politicians in their perfectly pressed suits.
Eating the American Dream.
The marriage. The happy home with 2.5 kids ad a golden retriever named Annie.
We are broken now.
All of these falsities have morphed into something terrible.
Reality.
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 1:28 PM UTC
I know what it must be like
to deal with me;
but I assure you
it's not as hard
as dealing with being me.
I simultaneously push people away,
keep them at a distance with falsities
designed to prevent incidents
like people actually getting to know the real me
and wish they knew enough to understand
why
why it is that I grew to become this.
Jul 21, 2016
Jul 21, 2016 at 11:09 AM UTC
Passion
free from falsities,
untethered by tragedy,
unhindered by corruption,
untouched by treachery,
Passion pure
free to roam in awe and wonder,
eager to explore in hope and desire,
amazed to discover love for and from,
enveloped by Bliss
Immersed Emerged
Swimming in new renewed
Feb 13, 2010
Feb 13, 2010 at 9:39 PM UTC
I wish it was easier for
people to forget, if things left their
mind as easy as they let
them in, tough skin
wouldn’t wear thin
as easy as it is right now,
my past is full of imperfections
and bad decisions, leaving unstitched
incisions beneath the brink of sanity,
but who’s isn’t? every time falsities
start, my mind races
with my heart to contemplations on
when to finish, they tattoo the past
of others on their insecurities,
fuelling the fire that burns a hole
into respect and reputation,
creating a vicious cycle
of revenge and envy,
each gossip verbally vomited
into naive ears pulls the marionette
strings of perception into the road normally
taken, two roads may have diverged
at a yellow wood, but when the ignorance
burns yellow to ash, the road less taken
seems blocked, so the next time you hear
something about another, don’t be too quick
spread the word, the game of
telephone can get a little distorted when
the next phone call
you get is that they
were found hanging from
a rope.
MJB
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 1:37 AM UTC
A sneer,
A snide
remark
graces your skin,
Tingling despite
the smile.
I'm disgusted.
I'm irate.
I'm alive and
burning with rage.
I'm storming.
Clouds gather
At my fingertips,
Clouds gather at my
Lips.
The lower
Are troubled,
Churning and spurning
The gentle hand
That often lies.
The upper are
Sweet, soft,
Cotton candy
Falsities,
Covering up any memory
Of personal taste,
Of individuality.
I exist to please.
I'm a saucy
Sort of servant.
I'm disgusted.
I'm irate.
I'm alive and
Burning with rage.
I'm forming.
Forming infinitesimally
Tiny shapes,
Bits of broken
Anger and slander
Printed fresh like
A book.
Smaller and smaller
The pieces will shrink,
Pushed away
Into
The farthest
Corner of my cortex.
Flash,
Bam,
And with a puff of smoke
It's almost gone.
I'm a magician.
I'm disgusted.
I'm irate.
I'm whatever
You please.
I'm cotton candy
Shit-sticking,
White and pliable;
Olive will give away
If you just keep hitting.
I'm disgusted.
I'm irate.
I'm barely hanging on.
I'm burning
With rage.
But,
I'm alive.
Yes,
I'm alive.
Aug 14, 2010
Aug 14, 2010 at 11:20 AM UTC
Playing at this empty calm,
Faking Simplicity.
Deepening hysteria,
Mesmerizing calamity,
Chaos abreast.
Hurricane destruction,
Twister tearing down,
But fake calm anyway.
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 11:04 PM UTC
We can escape, now,
it's smoky with a chance of curtain drawn,
our minds won't tramsit light
from our empty, covered windo- the train is here.
I'm ready to go.
And though I'm leaving on a train
with room for only one,
I'm hoping you can catch a cheap ride
hidden in my pocket.
Nobody checks your person, anymore,
Nobody cares;
Homeland Security lovingly fed
us fattened falsities
As the fat cats in suburban alleyways
tore off the thickest
pieces of marrow from the national animal
of our Fiction States of America.
I have known this
because I have seen it from my seat
in coach,
thank god, too, because the train is packed.
So fill up
if you aren't going to hop in,
wishing to distort
your mind with all of their public drugs,
community opiates
transmitting across electrical wires hidden
in the ground,
the trees,
the air itself,
stitched into the layers of
dark matter and cosmic foam insulating
our fragile and overdone Universe.
I hear their static,
that pantomimed reality,
caught inside carbon fibers running through everything,
running through me,
running through you,
running into and out of your brain like
a thief without pause or moral.
We could run, too,
the heavy bass notes of the
nurturing ocean could shield the screech
of the battered train's wheels;
the wheels need a rest from screeching, anyway.
Quick!
While the conductor isn't looking!
The wires will tell him you're here
until you're gone,
hidden in my coat pocket
inside a layer of my inner smoke.
Well, if you insist,
I suppose you may leave,
but once the wound of knowledge opens,
just know it never closes.
It will fester and
prickle
with the fetid odor
of truths turned into lies.
I know I'm talking
to myself, now, but I don't
want to let you go,
though I'll stay here,
safe,
in the train carriage,
hidden in smoke.
Smoke,
smoke,
smoke,
the train heats up,
breaths out smoke from its burning
and throbbing pipe.
The engine has built up
an overdose of heat,
trying to throw off the weeds trying
to grow inside.
They tried to enter me,
and they will soon enter you,
now,
without my smoke to shroud you,
to leave your naked wound
easily hidden in
paranoid dreams.
Screeeeee,
screeeeeee,
screeeeeeee,
the wheels screech out,
ready to go,
ready to run,
to run down the track,
to run through all obstacles,
to run through everything,
to run through me,
to run through you,
to run in and out of your brain,
blown away in a puff of smoke,
my memory has burned away
and blows off as ash
and smoke.
Feb 6, 2011
Feb 6, 2011 at 7:32 PM UTC
Wake to sad mornings,
Sleep to sad nights,
View sad people,
See sad movies,
Kiss sad women,
Raise sad children,
Pass sad madmen,
Buy sad pets,
Watch sad films,
Hear sad music,
Cry sad tears,
Live sad years,
Pick sad flowers,
Write sad poems,
Keep sad tomes,
Hold sad woes,
Ache sad blows,
Justify sad truths,
Accept sad falsities,
Break sad objects,
Use sad drugs,
***** sad rugs,
Choose sad battles,
Swig sad bottles,
Play sad instruments,
Pray for sad religions,
Spark sad fires,
Keep sad lairs,
Attend sad funerals,
Notice sad cemeteries,
Die a sad death,
Fulfill sad fates.
Do all this, and you'll still be infinitely happier than some.
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 1:55 PM UTC
you don't dare
unwrap the real gift
hidden under layers of hype
too hard to discover it
beneath mounds of plastic
under the glare of neon
falsities projected
aimlessly scrolling away your soul
Godless Yuletide
Christless Noel
sterile feigned joy
useless worthless feelgood frenzy
sentimental superficiality
televised consumer fables
cute trendy on the screen
market-driven fakeries of fake snow
Mammon's medicated stress-fest
passive-aggressive goodwill
American commercialism
angelic Antichrist malls of lost souls
waiting for the next explosion
trying hard to feel the warmth
in the winter chill
of hearts hardened
against the Christ
of Christmas
unwrap the past
to find the present
in your sold-out future
Christ is Lord
Dec 24, 2016
Dec 24, 2016 at 3:41 PM UTC
Smiling liars, Laughing tyrants, Suppliers
Of the drug that keeps us spinning
The web of deceit for our precious
Exploiters of production, masters of destruction,
They can always spare a little time,
To turn their noses down at you.
Understanding Uncle Samson,
Receding hairlines never seemed so cruel.
Steady diets, Miracle migrants,
Poised and ready
To deliver the solution to you.
Glorified Ignorance, Celebrated Apathy,
The mixture slowly brought to brew
Industrialized dreams streamed directly,
Born of seduction and designed for consumption
Your ideas no longer belong to you.
The Answer is hidden, at the end
Of a sentence
The link to extinction will surely
Be mentioned
As hope rests
While peace detests
Those souls
Were they well intentioned?
Chemically altered, biology falters,
Murdering the sacred sphere
Who to trust?
The reason we must
Purge the demigods with spears
Beyond the philosophies
Man believes the falsities
The angry mob taught him
To enslave himself with
Fear
Mar 28, 2012
Mar 28, 2012 at 10:08 PM UTC
Even I, with scales on my eyes and large, heavy headphones pressed tightly against my ears, can see that this three week conversation has died out, although I have made every attempt to keep it burning.
Even I, with my nose bleeding, and my heart bleeding, and my soul dripping some strange, red liquid, know that this has run its course, which, coincidentally, was directly into an iceberg which I never saw. An iceburg that only exists in your eyes, yet this ship sailed, serene, into it, with no word of warning from your lips.
Even I, with guts spilled out, in the street, in front of your house, spelling your name, must aknowledge the fleeting nature of the situation. I guess.
Even I, with next to no knowledge of myself, know that I am lying.
But they are lies that I must eat with the eagerness of starving foxes - for that is what I am now. I am made of lies and paw-prints in the vacant lot, near the abandoned sugar factory, that place I still believe is haunted, to this day. Maybe it houses my ghosts.
But after my dinner of hollow lies, I am left famished still, even though I choked down one too many, coughing, and gasping for air, as if I were drowning in my own falsities. After my unsatisfying meal, I only want one dessert: A cigarette and an answer. But only one is possible, and I have already made my choice. The pull of Nicotine is much stronger than that of closure. So I don't really need it.
I am a blind man, who has wandered onto the train tracks, far outside of town, where the iron horses can really run. In the city (or something that may only resembe a city,) they prance. On display. "Look at my tall, graffitti-stained walls. See my beautiful face of cow-catcher grin and headlamp, cyclops eye."
I made my picnic on the tracks, thinking they were a bench. I guess that was a bad idea. And my reanimated corpse agrees, as it trusts that another train is still far away and stumbles about, picking up lost pieces.
I should build a house here. I really don't mind rebuilding, and the trainwrecks ain't so bad...
All in retrospect, friend.
May 17, 2013
May 17, 2013 at 10:44 PM UTC
We are the lost generation
One would say we strayed
If there was a path to stray from
To be lost, to not know one's whereabouts is tough
When one doesn't know themselves.
A gap year will solve that problem
Or two
Or eight
Perhaps a gap life might be more appropriate
More appropriate than 3 years of falsities we label as education
Three years of losing oneself
-the self one never owned-
For instant gratification, excessive debauchery
Live now, pay later
In full, with interest
They never warn you of the interest
At some point undergo transformation,
Don't so much follow as pursue your passion as a detective seeks his criminal
Craft your philosophy and prepare for war where
Freedom fighters clash with crashes of the sharpest steel
Shame really,
To be fighting when one does not know what they are fighting for
The world burns and we feed the fire without thinking
The lights are on
Yet we are shrouded in darkness
Cast over by the shadows of our possessions
Acquired as one collects stamps or stones
Stones more like, for they will be too heavy to take with us
As will the paper our degrees are published on
As will the words I scribble furiously, daily
All because my work is by extension, me,
And so with it comes purpose
A bumpy, undefined path for me to trek on
For me to struggle and strive for an invisible finish line
Sans friends and family
Without anyone to shield me from my own monstrous thoughts
Is it fear or control which prevents me from action?
Perhaps a more suitable question for those who do
Take action
Seeing evil, hearing evil, contributing to it
Ignoring it
Ignoring the little boys and girls plucked from their homes
Or forced into silence by the ones they trust
Or watching countries storm their neighbours for no reason
Or even the most ordinary,
Where families are ripped apart and vows are broken
Where we cut and chop and mutilate our flesh to become someone's doppelganger
Where heart, honour and respect mean nothing.
Don't tell me money started this
When evil existed before money
Long before we didn't know who we were
Are.
We are the lost generation
And though I don't know how to be found
Maybe the solution
Is to find each other.
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 7:36 PM UTC
Feminism is useless, I believe in equality;
a common misconception from a common man’s philosophy.
A point of view so skewed, that it’s more than a little faulty.
*Feminists hate all men it seems, and then they cry for acceptance.
A group so dedicated to vengeance that they’d rather practice independence;*
a common misconception from a common man’s reluctance.
A preference to see the worst in human beings
rather than agreeing for humanity’s well-being.
*Feminism is a club that I’m not invited to.
Where all they do is whine and complain about women’s issues;*
A common misconception from a common man’s miscues.
As feminism is not a place that can deny a person of any gender or race.
It’s a frame of mind that you will find humanity at it’s base.
Now in life these words, they will not rhyme,
but I guarantee you’ll hear them said from time to time.
Feminism isn’t about what is or is not on your chest.
It’s about empowering those whose lives are oppressed.
“Don’t cry, you’re a man”, “don’t be such a *****
These falsities we all hear are but a locked door;
Where understanding is the key
To truly living in equality.
Mar 8, 2016
Mar 8, 2016 at 7:32 PM UTC