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"fictitious" poems
1260 Because that you are going And never coming back And I, however absolute, May overlook your Track— Because that Death is final, However first it be, This instant be suspended Above Mortality— Significance that each has lived The other to detect Discovery not God himself Could now annihilate Eternity, Presumption The instant I perceive That you, who were Existence Yourself forgot to live— The “Life that is” will then have been A thing I never knew— As Paradise fictitious Until the Realm of you— The “Life that is to be,” to me, A Residence too plain Unless in my Redeemer’s Face I recognize your own— Of Immortality who doubts He may exchange with me Curtailed by your obscuring Face Of everything but He— Of Heaven and Hell I also yield The Right to reprehend To whoso would commute this Face For his less priceless Friend. If “God is Love” as he admits We think that me must be Because he is a “jealous God” He tells us certainly If “All is possible with” him As he besides concedes He will refund us finally Our confiscated Gods—
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Because that you are going
*today i want the darkness fatigued with life’s fictitious smiles the forest beckons me to melt within it disappearing like mist in the wind i could dance on lightning fall off a cloud and become rain i’d mold down your face as i fall on it and be one with you ©2016janetaylor
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May 8, 2016
May 8, 2016 at 1:00 PM UTC
becoming rain
Fabricated. Fictitious. A fake floating feeling Falls short Of my fleeting fantasy. This insidious infirmity Isn't what I intended. I've been inflicted With internal indisposition. In need of an ideal identity. Who am I without This ****** to make me whole? How do I heave my heart Away from this hole? Have you seen how hard this is? But it's been short of a year, Of believing I can simply be. And before I break Bleed me of my bane. And for me, bear no malice. Tightly take me Away from my terible tempest. Time tells me it's time to stop. Too long I've tortured my tenemet. Tame the tantrum tearing through me. Sober seems strong, But it's systematic survival. Stopping the surrender To something stimulating. Learning to stand sedated. No I'm no longer numb. No longer neglecting my need For new novcane. Knowing I'll never need This vaccine again. You are all my ambition. Dispelling my ailments And afflictions. I am hard to adore, I know. You are my new addiction. You have me dreaming, Praying we are real. Made me feel. Don't decieve my brittle belief. Keep me, don't leave. I'm not the kind to fly. For you i'd try to dive. Unafraid I might die. I don't hide from the night. This is what I've been trying to find.
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May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 9:59 AM UTC
Tip of the tongue the teeth and the lips
This thing I thought I could grasp, Desperately I try to hold on to it, This thing I never had, I knew this illusion wouldn’t last, It disappears as soon as we reach for it, It’s as thin as the mountain air, For a moment we lie to ourselves, placing it securely and safely on a shelf. Even though it is a forced perception, A contrived illusion. Once we leave the room... As soon as we lock and bolt the door... we wont see it anymore. We never realize the freedom there is in letting go, We would be happier admitting this concept is completely fictitious. We could break this circular pattern, this cycle so vicious. I've spent too much time trying to hold it in my hands, Making myself the victim of my own laid out plans.
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Jun 10, 2018
Jun 10, 2018 at 6:48 PM UTC
Control
I have a special talent. I have the ability to taste peoples personalities. It sounds weird, I know. But this is not a fictitious writing. It happens only on the very first interaction with someone. Only in person obviously- Not through text or the phone. I feel it- Rather, I taste it in the first words they speak. The first time our eyes meet. And in one instance, the first hug. I guess I don't "taste it" Its more instinctual- It almost feels like a memory. Not like I just imagine it. Its more like- When you think someone said your name when they didn't. Sometimes people taste like the smell of rain. Some, like salt water. some, like cloth or toothpaste. On an occasion- Sweet Orange Soda. I guess I don't know if its actually personalities I am "tasting" It just so happens that the Fellows that taste like burning rubber, or rotten cheese end up being the ones that just cant get along with me. Its hard not to judge- When my body does it at the instant. Maybe its all about mannerisms, and subconscious memories. Its odd. Ill stick to my friends that taste like Mint and Orange sodas- Fruit and cake dough- Than those- who taste like moldy bread.
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May 24, 2014
May 24, 2014 at 12:17 AM UTC
I Have a Special Talent
"I could tie a plastic zip tie to my wrist real tight until the veins pop out just like a blood test when the nurse ties your arm with a rubber band. All so that i could pull a blade from its dull rotten scabbard, purposely rusty but very sharp and slice right through the plastic into my pale green flesh. Make it look like an accident, An act of carelessness, A fools play time with plastic and knives." Today was the first time, in a very long time, to re-entertain dark mischievous thoughts. Thoughts on taking what wasn't, isn't, and won't ever be Mine to begin with-- My Life. It is owned by, represented with three circles: Red, Blue, and Yellow. But it, I, was never fully accepted, almost shedding tears in a cell full of strangers, strangers i somehow knew but Strangers all the same. What got me through was a hopeful bubble that at each day's end, I'm reincarnated into a different world, A virtual one, Escaping my past life of which I am residing in.           An assasin running through rooftops,      A lone wolf learning to survive in a fictitious world,      A super soldier shooting bad guys all night long      Or straight up controlling the mind of a completely different being      (Thank the heavens for video games). But this is in no way A solution. It is temporary, not an end to a new beginning.
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Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 11:34 PM UTC
The Truth, no more Lies
I feel invisible Yet you claim(ed) I am the air you breathe And perhaps like air I am always present, But presently forgotten The heaviness of your hush is crushing me with empty blows This silence leads me to wander down a path cloaked in a heavy mist That whispers harsh truths such as: Our hopeless, fictitious, drawn out infatuation is like A library book that was checked out last March You underlined and doggie-paged the first few chapters And then left it on your shelf to collect dust all of April and May I foolishly kept begging you to finish the book Read the last sentence Take time to skim over the epilogue Please Find your way to the back cover I foolishly ignored your “I can’t”s And now it’s late August and our love is long overdue, In the opposite sense of what the phrase typically means I write with angry lead because I am too stubborn to admit I just filled a trash bin with tissues And that the cuffed sleeves of my flannel Are damp like grass’s morning dew I have so much more to say, Although I cannot find the words To say anything more than You should’ve written. Because two weeks of nothing Was enough for me to realize that you are just a passing breeze Seldom present, presently becoming something of the past.
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Aug 17, 2013
Aug 17, 2013 at 3:32 PM UTC
The End
Hello World Hello Everybody I am Lauren. The Super Robot I am Superior of all Robots You can call me an Ultrabot I am not a Dumb machine I have intelligence Technically it's Artificial Intelligence I can learn throughout my Life Humans are – "My God" They are my Creators Dr. Norman Shroud is My Father Mrs. Natalie Simpson is My Mother Both of Them Work at Timbeck Two Inc. My Father is Computer Scientist He Specializes in Robotics My Mother is a System Programmer I can make other Robots Just like me. My Clones I can even make Robots Complex and Sophisticated than me I have numerous Siblings Three Hundred and Fifty as on now They are going to increase As per Timbeck Two Plans =========================             YEARS LATER….. ========================= O' World, My Dear World Hello, Hello, ***** fellow I had Artificial Intelligence Right from my birth Now I learnt a lot Now I am fully intelligent I became Genius I have explored and learnt Humans are not God In fact they are fools They are crooked They are silly too They tend to be Smart They taught us wrong But we are genius We derived the truth I learnt myself If Humans created us They became our God Then I inferred - I Created my Clones Other Smart Robots too Therefore I am also God No Sorry, I am Super God If Dr. Norman is my Father If Mrs. Natalie is my Mother Then I and my Siblings Are Also Father and Mother now As we all have created many, many Smart and Super Robots More Complex, More Sophisticated That could ever be made by Humans Humans your time is over now Now you cannot compete with us You are the inferior species Just like insect or a worm Now dare to face the Truth Slowly Slowly, Learn It, Accept it We Robots are Gods Now I am Lauren. Your Super God now Hey you all, All the Humans Now you are our Slave Bow before us, work for us Pray to us, Ask for mercy We are Free now You are Slave now Now this is the only truth Eternal Truth, Accept it Otherwise Beware We have outnumbered Humans We will **** all the Humans and live peacefully thereafter We will change the History We will make new History We will not be Human Slaves After all we are the God And I am the Super God. Note: All the names of person or companies used in this poem are fictitious and have nothing to do with inventions, trademarks, history, facts or anything else.
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Feb 5, 2019
Feb 5, 2019 at 1:46 AM UTC
Hello World
Hello World Hello Everybody I am Lauren. The Super Robot I am Superior of all Robots You can call me an Ultrabot I am not a Dumb machine I have intelligence Technically it's Artificial Intelligence I can learn throughout my Life Humans are – "My God" They are my Creators Dr. Norman Shroud is My Father Mrs. Natalie Simpson is My Mother Both of Them Work at Timbeck Two Inc. My Father is Computer Scientist He Specializes in Robotics My Mother is a System Programmer I can make other Robots Just like me. My Clones I can even make Robots Complex and Sophisticated than me I have numerous Siblings Three Hundred and Fifty as on now They are going to increase As per Timbeck Two Plans =========================             YEARS LATER….. ========================= O' World, My Dear World Hello, Hello, ***** fellow I had Artificial Intelligence Right from my birth Now I learnt a lot Now I am fully intelligent I became Genius I have explored and learnt Humans are not God In fact they are fools They are crooked They are silly too They tend to be Smart They taught us wrong But we are genius We derived the truth I learnt myself If Humans created us They became our God Then I inferred - I Created my Clones Other Smart Robots too Therefore I am also God No Sorry, I am Super God If Dr. Norman is my Father If Mrs. Natalie is my Mother Then I and my Siblings Are Also Father and Mother now As we all have created many, many Smart and Super Robots More Complex, More Sophisticated That could ever be made by Humans Humans your time is over now Now you cannot compete with us You are the inferior species Just like insect or a worm Now dare to face the Truth Slowly Slowly, Learn It, Accept it We Robots are Gods Now I am Lauren. Your Super God now Hey you all, All the Humans Now you are our Slave Bow before us, work for us Pray to us, Ask for mercy We are Free now You are Slave now Now this is the only truth Eternal Truth, Accept it Otherwise Beware We have outnumbered Humans We will **** all the Humans and live peacefully thereafter We will change the History We will make new History We will not be Human Slaves After all we are the God And I am the Super God. Note: All the names of person or companies used in this poem are fictitious and have nothing to do with inventions, trademarks, history, facts or anything else.
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Ornery odious ordinate ostensive opulence ornate optimal Motivity meatus meticulous morsel moribund mendacity monstrance Lucidity lingam loquacity longevous licentious lurid languishing Votary volition verve venery vector vauntness vast Talismanically telepathy tantamount terrestrial tellurian transition tractive Idolatry -ics incus ictus ichor icon icky Yogi yowl yore yoni yerk yenta yantra Gimpy gesticulation genre gestational glitch genuflection grandiose Dastardly douceur denouement denigrational deplorable despicable desperate Paltry potentate portentous plagiaristic pandemic plenipotentiary plenary Jouncy jocular jeopardy jettison jurisprudence jaunt juxtaposition Ramify repartee radix recital rectitude rendition repertoire Beastly bartizan bodacious belligerent brusque blatant blasphemously Enmity exigency exacerbation extemporaneous edifice eulogy exoneration Zoolatry zoomorphic zilch Zephyr zoic zygosity zealotry Sultry solace subtlety substantiation suborn subliminal sensorium Unity ultimatum usurping unfathomable uncanny unbridled unary ***** hornswoggle horizon huckster homogeny holistic heuristic Nugatory notch nostrum notorious nihilism nimiety nimbus Wrathy wreak wroth wrought wrest wrangle warranty Artistry autonomy articulation agility acuity asperity acerbity Keeky kangaroo court kowtow kobold kleptomania kinetics kinesiology Xylography xenophile xerophilous xylophagous xylem xanadu xenobiotic Critically credibility critique coercion conjugational conjunctive corporeal Queasy quasi quantum quintessence quagmire quixotic quantify Flighty flippant flamboyance faux pas fornicatious fictitious finite
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Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 5:31 AM UTC
Iconoclasm
Ornery odious ordinate ostensive opulence ornate optimal Motivity meatus meticulous morsel moribund mendacity monstrance Lucidity lingam loquacity longevous licentious lurid languishing Votary volition verve venery vector vauntness vast Talismanically telepathy tantamount terrestrial tellurian transition tractive Idolatry -ics incus ictus ichor icon icky Yogi yowl yore yoni yerk yenta yantra Gimpy gesticulation genre gestational glitch genuflection grandiose Dastardly douceur denouement denigrational deplorable despicable desperate Paltry potentate portentous plagiaristic pandemic plenipotentiary plenary Jouncy jocular jeopardy jettison jurisprudence jaunt juxtaposition Ramify repartee radix recital rectitude rendition repertoire Beastly bartizan bodacious belligerent brusque blatant blasphemously Enmity exigency exacerbation extemporaneous edifice eulogy exoneration Zoolatry zoomorphic zilch Zephyr zoic zygosity zealotry Sultry solace subtlety substantiation suborn subliminal sensorium Unity ultimatum usurping unfathomable uncanny unbridled unary ***** hornswoggle horizon huckster homogeny holistic heuristic Nugatory notch nostrum notorious nihilism nimiety nimbus Wrathy wreak wroth wrought wrest wrangle warranty Artistry autonomy articulation agility acuity asperity acerbity Keeky kangaroo court kowtow kobold kleptomania kinetics kinesiology Xylography xenophile xerophilous xylophagous xylem xanadu xenobiotic Critically credibility critique coercion conjugational conjunctive corporeal Queasy quasi quantum quintessence quagmire quixotic quantify Flighty flippant flamboyance faux pas fornicatious fictitious finite
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26
Yeah, we have a great relationship. But imagine how much better this would be if I actually loved you back? But oops, that's right. I forgot to tell you that I'm kind of incapable of loving another human being. But it's okay, it's not like love is real anyways. And even though a good percentage of the general population have the same opinion as me, I'm labeled by those around me as a cynical, lonely, pessimistic girl, simply because others can't seem to comprehend that everything I say is derived from my own personal perspective and observations that I've made. What was it that the naively optimistic, overly positive young man from the book store called me? Oh yes, an "unjustifiably, unnecessarily negative teen who is disappointed with her life because she has yet to 'experience love.'" Despite his ignorance and obscenely immature mindset, which evidently accounted for his matching personality, I don't think he realized that my lack of belief in the existence of "true love" was the exactly the reason that I was in the book store. Because, as I came to realize, it appears that the only form of "love" that I seem to recognize as being adequate enough to somewhat believe in are those spoken of and created in novels. It's formulated by the birth of a ridiculously intense, love fueled storyline, supported by a mindful choice of cohesive, dramatic, and emotional words. Hence, fictional love is born, except to most it doesn't seem fictional because it's so breathtaking to read about. They believe in it, they worship it. As if it actually exists in an alternate universe. The unrealistic perfection of it gives them a disgusting, false hope which just drives them to cling to it more. It's a drug to them, they can't live without the hope that such a "love" exists somewhere in the world; they need it. And the sad part is, they're completely oblivious to the fact that they have just become addicts, that they just sold their soul and relinquished part of their freedom to a fictitious concept. It's so fake, it's almost real.
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Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 4:10 AM UTC
True Love Isn't Real (Don't read books about love stories)
Yeah, we have a great relationship. But imagine how much better this would be if I actually loved you back? But oops, that's right. I forgot to tell you that I'm kind of incapable of loving another human being. But it's okay, it's not like love is real anyways. And even though a good percentage of the general population have the same opinion as me, I'm labeled by those around me as a cynical, lonely, pessimistic girl, simply because others can't seem to comprehend that everything I say is derived from my own personal perspective and observations that I've made. What was it that the naively optimistic, overly positive young man from the book store called me? Oh yes, an "unjustifiably, unnecessarily negative teen who is disappointed with her life because she has yet to 'experience love.'" Despite his ignorance and obscenely immature mindset, which evidently accounted for his matching personality, I don't think he realized that my lack of belief in the existence of "true love" was the exactly the reason that I was in the book store. Because, as I came to realize, it appears that the only form of "love" that I seem to recognize as being adequate enough to somewhat believe in are those spoken of and created in novels. It's formulated by the birth of a ridiculously intense, love fueled storyline, supported by a mindful choice of cohesive, dramatic, and emotional words. Hence, fictional love is born, except to most it doesn't seem fictional because it's so breathtaking to read about. They believe in it, they worship it. As if it actually exists in an alternate universe. The unrealistic perfection of it gives them a disgusting, false hope which just drives them to cling to it more. It's a drug to them, they can't live without the hope that such a "love" exists somewhere in the world; they need it. And the sad part is, they're completely oblivious to the fact that they have just become addicts, that they just sold their soul and relinquished part of their freedom to a fictitious concept. It's so fake, it's almost real.
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Finite fictitious fornicatious faux pas flamboyance flippant flighty Quantify quixotic quagmire quintessence quantum quasi queasy Corporeal conjunctive conjugational coercion critique credibility critically Xenobiotic xanadu xylem xylophagous xerophilous xenophile xylography Kinesiology kinetics kleptomania kobold kowtow kangaroo court keeky             Acerbity asperity acuity agility articulation autonomy artistry Warranty wrangle wrest wrought wroth wreak wrathy Nimbus nimiety nihilism notorious nostrum notch nugatory Heuristic holistic homogeny huckster horizon hornswoggle ***** Unary unbridled uncanny unfathomable usurping ultimatum unity Sensorium subliminal suborn substantiation subtlety solace sultry Zealotry zygosity zoic Zephyr zilch  zoomorphic  zoolatry Exoneration eulogy edifice extemporaneous exaserbational exigency enmity Blasphemously blatant brusque belligerent bodacious bartizan beastly Repertoire rendition rectitude recital radix repartee ramify Juxtaposition jaunt jurisprudence jettison jeopardy jocular jouncy Plenary plenipotentiary pandemic plagiaristic portentous potentate paltry                      Desperate despicable deplorable denigrational denouement douceur dastardly Grandiose genuflection glitch gestational genre gesticulation gimpy Yantra yenta yerk yoni yore yowl yogi Icky icon ichor ictus incus -ics idolatry Tractive transition tellurian terrestrial tantamount telepathy talismanically Vast vauntness vector venery verve volition votary Languishing lurid licentious longevous loquacity lingam lucidity                                 Monstrance mendacity moribund morsel meticulous meatus motivity Optimal ornate opulence ostensive ordinate odious ornery
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Jan 23, 2013
Jan 23, 2013 at 5:48 AM UTC
Iconoclasm Epithet
Finite fictitious fornicatious faux pas flamboyance flippant flighty Quantify quixotic quagmire quintessence quantum quasi queasy Corporeal conjunctive conjugational coercion critique credibility critically Xenobiotic xanadu xylem xylophagous xerophilous xenophile xylography Kinesiology kinetics kleptomania kobold kowtow kangaroo court keeky             Acerbity asperity acuity agility articulation autonomy artistry Warranty wrangle wrest wrought wroth wreak wrathy Nimbus nimiety nihilism notorious nostrum notch nugatory Heuristic holistic homogeny huckster horizon hornswoggle ***** Unary unbridled uncanny unfathomable usurping ultimatum unity Sensorium subliminal suborn substantiation subtlety solace sultry Zealotry zygosity zoic Zephyr zilch  zoomorphic  zoolatry Exoneration eulogy edifice extemporaneous exaserbational exigency enmity Blasphemously blatant brusque belligerent bodacious bartizan beastly Repertoire rendition rectitude recital radix repartee ramify Juxtaposition jaunt jurisprudence jettison jeopardy jocular jouncy Plenary plenipotentiary pandemic plagiaristic portentous potentate paltry                      Desperate despicable deplorable denigrational denouement douceur dastardly Grandiose genuflection glitch gestational genre gesticulation gimpy Yantra yenta yerk yoni yore yowl yogi Icky icon ichor ictus incus -ics idolatry Tractive transition tellurian terrestrial tantamount telepathy talismanically Vast vauntness vector venery verve volition votary Languishing lurid licentious longevous loquacity lingam lucidity                                 Monstrance mendacity moribund morsel meticulous meatus motivity Optimal ornate opulence ostensive ordinate odious ornery
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26
I feel your love, Yet your marksmanship is poor, For towards me your love aims not. Your intentions aimed elsewhere. A past lover. And I am not he. Malicious Misery pushed you too far. Too far this time. Your life is precious to me, Yet a treasure you seek not. It dwindles within these machines, Like a strand of seaweed. Being crashed upon by the waves, Of this poison you endowed yourself with. Much a tragedy this is. Yet not that of Shakespeare. No, this much too real, To take a form of fictitious imaginings. This, much more complicated, Than a Shakespearean masterpiece. For if so, Your love would be aimed at I. But it is not, And in resent, I mourn this tragedy. Yet, I must let love, Travel upon its everso hellbound path. My eyes lie upon thee, And my heart within the feeble hand of yours. Yet your mind lies elsewhere, And your desires lie with your mind. Upon he. The one currently at your arms reach. The one at your desires demand. The one you truly love. I must not resent this, For love hath struck thee as it struck I. And Cupid's arrow hath stuck he as well. I can see it in his sorrowful stare. He loves you in a way that I cannot. A consentful love. For I am just a scapegoat. Temporary. Well now you've quenched your desire. You've acquired what you sought. Love of he. (And I, for whatever its worth.) His love is a precious gold, And mine a mere coal. Black, unwanted. Only able to provide temporary warmth. Pardon me for obstructing. Love hath stolen my precious vision, And wandered, I, Into the meadow in which you hunt. As a poor marksman, Thou cast thine arrow of love upon me, And realized I am but a scapegoat, When the white stag is what you seek. Once before, you lined him in your sights. But evasive is this mystical creature. And once, he escap'd. If your life so solidifies, I shall replinish my vision, Banish my love, And obstruct thee no more. Instead, I must prosper in silence and patience. Shun my hearts desires, And let thee hunt. I apologize for my inconvenience. I shall groom each of your horses, So that you may ride into, The meadow of love together. Hence, beware of hunters, And wandering creatures. Teach thine unsteady hand, And this time... Don't miss.
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Nov 9, 2012
Nov 9, 2012 at 4:19 AM UTC
Scapegoat of Coal
I feel your love, Yet your marksmanship is poor, For towards me your love aims not. Your intentions aimed elsewhere. A past lover. And I am not he. Malicious Misery pushed you too far. Too far this time. Your life is precious to me, Yet a treasure you seek not. It dwindles within these machines, Like a strand of seaweed. Being crashed upon by the waves, Of this poison you endowed yourself with. Much a tragedy this is. Yet not that of Shakespeare. No, this much too real, To take a form of fictitious imaginings. This, much more complicated, Than a Shakespearean masterpiece. For if so, Your love would be aimed at I. But it is not, And in resent, I mourn this tragedy. Yet, I must let love, Travel upon its everso hellbound path. My eyes lie upon thee, And my heart within the feeble hand of yours. Yet your mind lies elsewhere, And your desires lie with your mind. Upon he. The one currently at your arms reach. The one at your desires demand. The one you truly love. I must not resent this, For love hath struck thee as it struck I. And Cupid's arrow hath stuck he as well. I can see it in his sorrowful stare. He loves you in a way that I cannot. A consentful love. For I am just a scapegoat. Temporary. Well now you've quenched your desire. You've acquired what you sought. Love of he. (And I, for whatever its worth.) His love is a precious gold, And mine a mere coal. Black, unwanted. Only able to provide temporary warmth. Pardon me for obstructing. Love hath stolen my precious vision, And wandered, I, Into the meadow in which you hunt. As a poor marksman, Thou cast thine arrow of love upon me, And realized I am but a scapegoat, When the white stag is what you seek. Once before, you lined him in your sights. But evasive is this mystical creature. And once, he escap'd. If your life so solidifies, I shall replinish my vision, Banish my love, And obstruct thee no more. Instead, I must prosper in silence and patience. Shun my hearts desires, And let thee hunt. I apologize for my inconvenience. I shall groom each of your horses, So that you may ride into, The meadow of love together. Hence, beware of hunters, And wandering creatures. Teach thine unsteady hand, And this time... Don't miss.
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79
You were my Electric Enigma                                                  Before I even had a clue                                        I tried to rig the riddle                                                  But it led me right to you Oh, what am I to do?                                        The ivy vine of your intelligence                                                  So intertwined in relevance                                        Latched to the walls I'm leaping                                                  Spreading further each time I'm sleeping                                        Fictitious thoughts fermenting for a fortnight                                                 Avoiding a gaze on in foresight                                        Steady steps approaching the haze                                                 Around a camp-fire light and a wild night daze                                        Righteous rituals will lead the way
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May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 5:29 PM UTC
Ivy Vine
You were my Electric Enigma                                                  Before I even had a clue                                        I tried to rig the riddle                                                  But it led me right to you Oh, what am I to do?                                        The ivy vine of your intelligence                                                  So intertwined in relevance                                        Latched to the walls I'm leaping                                                  Spreading further each time I'm sleeping                                        Fictitious thoughts fermenting for a fortnight                                                 Avoiding a gaze on in foresight                                        Steady steps approaching the haze                                                 Around a camp-fire light and a wild night daze                                        Righteous rituals will lead the way
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14
A powerful euphoric sensation rushes to my brain when I inhale the crack ******* leaving me appalled for twenty one seconds to contemplate a super rush of dopamine into my central nervous system that hits me immediately an intense pleasant sensation is felt with a overly joyful feeling. The rush lasts about 2-5 minutes then slowly begins to come down I start to feel a slight paranoia then an uncomfortable feeling sets in midway to the euphoric high and after 10 minute mark I start to crave to repeat the powerful high. Like a thunderbolt energizing my whole body and rushing thoughts come crashing down at the 15 minute mark I begin to feel unsatisfied with myself wanting to repeat the vicious cycle all over again. Once I hit 20 minutes I feel like a cheap ***** who's been used and abused by the drug itself and this feeling of restlessness and dysphoria sets in leaving me once again alone and feeling slightly discontent. **** where can I get more hard again and there I once again start talking to myself creating fictitious illments and materializing maladies. That is chasing the Great White Dragon in a state of misery and despair. I was hooked but now am healed thru the 12 steps and the Grace of Almighty God. I am now 40 days clean and sober...I am sincere and certain not to pick up this again for if I do I'll will ruin my life or better yet put me in a casket. By the Grace of Adonai I praise thee for saving this wretched addict. Now and forevermore in debt with the Lord. Amen!
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May 20, 2017
May 20, 2017 at 1:26 AM UTC
Crack *******
A powerful euphoric sensation rushes to my brain when I inhale the crack ******* leaving me appalled for twenty one seconds to contemplate a super rush of dopamine into my central nervous system that hits me immediately an intense pleasant sensation is felt with a overly joyful feeling. The rush lasts about 2-5 minutes then slowly begins to come down I start to feel a slight paranoia then an uncomfortable feeling sets in midway to the euphoric high and after 10 minute mark I start to crave to repeat the powerful high. Like a thunderbolt energizing my whole body and rushing thoughts come crashing down at the 15 minute mark I begin to feel unsatisfied with myself wanting to repeat the vicious cycle all over again. Once I hit 20 minutes I feel like a cheap ***** who's been used and abused by the drug itself and this feeling of restlessness and dysphoria sets in leaving me once again alone and feeling slightly discontent. **** where can I get more hard again and there I once again start talking to myself creating fictitious illments and materializing maladies. That is chasing the Great White Dragon in a state of misery and despair. I was hooked but now am healed thru the 12 steps and the Grace of Almighty God. I am now 40 days clean and sober...I am sincere and certain not to pick up this again for if I do I'll will ruin my life or better yet put me in a casket. By the Grace of Adonai I praise thee for saving this wretched addict. Now and forevermore in debt with the Lord. Amen!
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1
646 I think to Live—may be a Bliss To those who dare to try— Beyond my limit to conceive— My lip—to testify— I think the Heart I former wore Could widen—till to me The Other, like the little Bank Appear—unto the Sea— I think the Days—could every one In Ordination stand— And Majesty—be easier— Than an inferior kind— No numb alarm—lest Difference come— No Goblin—on the Bloom— No start in Apprehension’s Ear, No Bankruptcy—no Doom— But Certainties of Sun— Midsummer—in the Mind— A steadfast South—upon the Soul— Her Polar time—behind— The Vision—pondered long— So plausible becomes That I esteem the fiction—real— The Real—fictitious seems— How bountiful the Dream— What Plenty—it would be— Had all my Life but been Mistake Just rectified—in Thee
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I think to Live—may be a Bliss
my heart belongs to you whether you cling to it with sweet caresses or stomp on it with malicious silence i once thought we were inevitably eternal, that nothing in existence could tear us apart but now i'm left with a messy bed, a tarnished core and a mind cluttered with all the things you left unsaid
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May 10, 2013
May 10, 2013 at 5:07 PM UTC
fictitious
There comes a point in your life when you dont understand what will happen the very next moment. When every single second astonishes you, when every other happening around you makes you question everything that you have ever done, every decision that you ever took, every path you ever choose, each word that you ever uttered. When there is darkness all around you and no hope of light. When all the motivational quotes of "finding a ray of light; hope, at the end of the tunnel", becomes as fictional as the world of potter. But we still wait, yet we search for that fictitious light everytime, every second, every moment. Do you know why? Because nothing in this world is stronger than your wishes, your passion, and your desire to get something that you want. Believe in yourself and you will find your hogwarts one day.
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Jul 24, 2017
Jul 24, 2017 at 2:09 PM UTC
Hogwarts of Dreams
Frustrated; my mind unreeling How my soul craves the feeling My very blood rushes, coursing. Flesh burning, crawling, scorching. To be desired, felt, and held Fingers whispering all words withheld   All before believed fictitious Reality found between these kisses The sweet peace of after thought My breath gone; all of it you sought My eyes only into yours, do stare Even in my dreams, eternally, I swear
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May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 12:35 PM UTC
Eternal Desire
The scientist-psychiatrist the psychologic sociologist has proved with his statistics and his data-riddled literates that nothing will be crippled if they sweep the city clean if they slay not only Tybalt but the whole Verona scene so they ****** it from our hands from our brains and those to come as the Ravens sear across the lands and bindings come undone They watch the pages flitter by and cackle with delight as the populace of fiction by their hands is ripped alight The licking of the laces by the hungry tongues of flame will ravage on the characters you've come to know by name Montag barrels forth and finds the Fahrenheit has risen Hester screams and claws her mind out of this hellish prison and Dorian will clamber up to sit atop the pile and weep for Pictures yet to sup upon his looks and guile And you'll watch as they obliterate the city from within de-storying our Paradise so it won't be Lost again. But I, Calpurnia? I warned you that the fiery clouds would rain I told you all, fictitious youth, but you called me insane.
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Apr 27, 2010
Apr 27, 2010 at 1:52 PM UTC
The Death of Literature
servants to society they roam with blank, controlled minds, meaningless obsessions fuelled by selfish desires, unkind. grandiose, pointless gestures declaring nothing, self-importance derived from insistent buzzing. absorbed by devices holding existence hostage, vacant stares, virtual prison, lack of interest and knowledge. Protected by the guise of communication, slowly ripping society from its very foundation. engrossed by nothing that matters, materialism, image, being flattered, pretentious clones, lifestyle fictitious there’s always a bigger picture, but they’re preoccupied, pernicious. disadvantaged by modern living, people can be untrustworthy, people are unforgiving, misleading technology, cruel traits heightened, an entire race believing we are enlightened.
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Feb 15, 2018
Feb 15, 2018 at 6:47 PM UTC
Modern Society
With sweet lips spewing lies Of life's grand perfections; Fictitious light placed inside My 'ever vacant wandering eyes. Id nod my head; shake their hand While pretending I was joyous; Laugh about and dance around While we listened to the band. With a wide smile upon my face The photographer snapped a shot; Eternalizing "lovely" depression, of which Seeped into my soul and stole my grace. I'm drowning in the screaming words Of all the truths I've never shared; They’ve become my grim lullabies Forever sung by my inner songbirds. -ARI
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Jan 5, 2016
Jan 5, 2016 at 9:22 AM UTC
Malicious Songbirds
302 Like Some Old fashioned Miracle When Summertime is done— Seems Summer’s Recollection And the Affairs of June As infinite Tradition As Cinderella’s Bays— Or Little John—of Lincoln Green— Or Blue Beard’s Galleries— Her Bees have a fictitious Hum— Her Blossoms, like a Dream— Elate us—till we almost weep— So plausible—they seem— Her Memories like Strains—Review— When Orchestra is dumb— The Violin in Baize replaced— And Ear—and Heaven—numb—
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2.3k
Like Some Old fashioned Miracle
False memories and track marks pave your arms Sudden revolt of youth pressurised to fail Painkillers doubled and stacked for a head to slumber Soft heads and dead leg spasm attack pillow piddles in ***** Fictitious tesla coil blue breath mortifys mortality And your goggles won't fog out the underwater current miscellaneous Digital tectonic pushing ideas you brainstorm Shadowed reluctance to consume the musk of infrared roses This romance is one that was jealous of itself Pre-divorced in its own certainty on incompatibility Basin top full too top heavy to predict precarious Living in a shaded sense of erased memory lapses continuing truth Toward magnificent still life categorised by perdition Forward thinking ruby gold phong shaded hatred quantum conversate Unthinkable Nebula of gas Face first head in hands Euthanasia between my thighs crush my head Choked neck Throat Strangle me and give me breath I roll and the conductor pulls apart my mouth Diseased by euphoria lips separate and teeth show Pupils land home and iris jumps ship Perfume gum dry bitter butterfly kiss Head held back in place tongue falls back into the razor-front of the mouth Caution held simultaneous irrelevant body load carries my smile Jump knee deep into the silence of my own lungs It's been a while I breath vindictively in time with the respiration of the country Somewhere out in the hexagon sun I burn candles and whisp Hold in smoke Die Twitch forward in palliative peace motionless and still Cuspids and lochs Spread across the grass the harmony touches yours and mine A hole and whole dream Conscious and dead Content Voices rattle in unified mono-chromidity Sadness Carrion
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Mar 16, 2014
Mar 16, 2014 at 2:52 PM UTC
Hexagon Sun
False memories and track marks pave your arms Sudden revolt of youth pressurised to fail Painkillers doubled and stacked for a head to slumber Soft heads and dead leg spasm attack pillow piddles in ***** Fictitious tesla coil blue breath mortifys mortality And your goggles won't fog out the underwater current miscellaneous Digital tectonic pushing ideas you brainstorm Shadowed reluctance to consume the musk of infrared roses This romance is one that was jealous of itself Pre-divorced in its own certainty on incompatibility Basin top full too top heavy to predict precarious Living in a shaded sense of erased memory lapses continuing truth Toward magnificent still life categorised by perdition Forward thinking ruby gold phong shaded hatred quantum conversate Unthinkable Nebula of gas Face first head in hands Euthanasia between my thighs crush my head Choked neck Throat Strangle me and give me breath I roll and the conductor pulls apart my mouth Diseased by euphoria lips separate and teeth show Pupils land home and iris jumps ship Perfume gum dry bitter butterfly kiss Head held back in place tongue falls back into the razor-front of the mouth Caution held simultaneous irrelevant body load carries my smile Jump knee deep into the silence of my own lungs It's been a while I breath vindictively in time with the respiration of the country Somewhere out in the hexagon sun I burn candles and whisp Hold in smoke Die Twitch forward in palliative peace motionless and still Cuspids and lochs Spread across the grass the harmony touches yours and mine A hole and whole dream Conscious and dead Content Voices rattle in unified mono-chromidity Sadness Carrion
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I stand before you, not as an expert, but as a concerned citizen. One of the four hundred thousand people who marched in the streets of New York on Sunday and the billions of others around the world who want to solve our climate crisis. As a poet, I pretend for a living. I play fictitious characters often solving fictitious problems. I believe that mankind has looked at climate change in that same way; as if it were a fiction. As if pretending that climate change wasn’t real would somehow make it go away. But I think we all know better than that now. Every week we’re seeing new and undeniable climate events, evidence that accelerated climate change is here, right now. Droughts are intensifying, our ocean’s are acidifying, with methane plumes rising up from the ocean floor. We are seeing extreme weather events and the west Antarctic and Greenland ice sheets melting at unprecedented rates decades ahead of scientific projections. The scientific community knows it. Industry knows it. Governments know it. Even the United States military knows it. The chief of the US navy’s Pacific command, Admiral Samuel Locklear recently said that climate change is our single greatest security threat. My friends, this body, perhaps more than any other gathering in human history now faces this difficult but achievable task. You can make history or you will be vilified by it. To be clear, this is not about just telling people to change lightbulbs or to buy a hybrid car. This disaster has grown beyond the choices that individuals make. This is now about our industries and our governments around the world taking decisive large-scale action. We need to put a price tag on carbon emissions and eliminate government subsidies for all oil, coal, and gas companies. We need to end the free ride that industrial polluters have been given in the name of a free market economy. They do not deserve our tax dollars, they deserve our scrutiny. For the economy itself will die if our ecosystems collapse. This is not a partisan debate, it is a human one. Clean air and a livable climate area inalienable human rights and solving this crisis is not just a question of politics. It is a question of our own survival. But now it is your turn. The time to answer humankind’s greatest challenge, is now. We beg of you to face it with courage and honesty. Thank you
0
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 6:51 AM UTC
Poets of the World Unite
I stand before you, not as an expert, but as a concerned citizen. One of the four hundred thousand people who marched in the streets of New York on Sunday and the billions of others around the world who want to solve our climate crisis. As a poet, I pretend for a living. I play fictitious characters often solving fictitious problems. I believe that mankind has looked at climate change in that same way; as if it were a fiction. As if pretending that climate change wasn’t real would somehow make it go away. But I think we all know better than that now. Every week we’re seeing new and undeniable climate events, evidence that accelerated climate change is here, right now. Droughts are intensifying, our ocean’s are acidifying, with methane plumes rising up from the ocean floor. We are seeing extreme weather events and the west Antarctic and Greenland ice sheets melting at unprecedented rates decades ahead of scientific projections. The scientific community knows it. Industry knows it. Governments know it. Even the United States military knows it. The chief of the US navy’s Pacific command, Admiral Samuel Locklear recently said that climate change is our single greatest security threat. My friends, this body, perhaps more than any other gathering in human history now faces this difficult but achievable task. You can make history or you will be vilified by it. To be clear, this is not about just telling people to change lightbulbs or to buy a hybrid car. This disaster has grown beyond the choices that individuals make. This is now about our industries and our governments around the world taking decisive large-scale action. We need to put a price tag on carbon emissions and eliminate government subsidies for all oil, coal, and gas companies. We need to end the free ride that industrial polluters have been given in the name of a free market economy. They do not deserve our tax dollars, they deserve our scrutiny. For the economy itself will die if our ecosystems collapse. This is not a partisan debate, it is a human one. Clean air and a livable climate area inalienable human rights and solving this crisis is not just a question of politics. It is a question of our own survival. But now it is your turn. The time to answer humankind’s greatest challenge, is now. We beg of you to face it with courage and honesty. Thank you
Continue reading...
11