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Eliza Sterling Feb 2014
In a peculiar, far off, world, time and place,
The trivial past would be irrelevant, chased away then erased.
Contrary to the reality of distorted lies in front of my face,
These eyes cannot mask fraudulence or disgrace.
Chasing them down with a trace of a defaced case of toxic waste,
I pace as my thoughts race of the time that’s left until I dissipate.
Looking into the murky vase with dying flowers desperate to be replaced,
Misplaced to the one who’d obliterate the beauty I once embraced.

Within my sorrow I woke, shattered love replaced with a heart no longer broke.
Soaked with what I could never cope, I felt passion and choked on my once false hope.
This vision evoked a note; a call of duty for you, my eternity to devote.
Instinctively I knew, the words stuck in my throat, but blindly every incline eventually has a *****.
Surrounded by mirrors shielded with smoke,
As we stared we shared yet nothing we spoke.
Your presence was felt but disguised with a cloak,
Confined in your skin, comfortably lost afloat, for your soul I searched to perpetually stroke.

With blurred vision I envisioned, stood silent, anxious of your condition,
Division of indecision was nothing less than your frightened inquisition.
A hallucination on a mission of who was out to hurt you with consistence,
I understood as you tried to piece together the suspicion of our composition.
Guarded and in position to react upon intuition then the smoke disappeared and you saw our reflection.
No longer was my presence an imposition now in recognition you accepted the ignition of a united evolution.
Successful revision disposed internal superstition,
Our collision created a premonition for our future decisions of precision.

The past’s paths we chose were restricted to our addiction and careless indifference,
The assistance of negative influence stripped us of our innocence.
Blood shot eyes, negligence of appearance, abstracted resistance only creating distance.
Ambiguous and inexperienced, taking shots and hits in an instance,
Distorted images, lacking clarity, the abuse of substance left an absence of existence.
Building tolerance whilst sabotaging resilience, guilty and unable to admit repentance,
Without a witness, secret and safe, no justice to serve and no one to listen.
A mission incomplete and persistent,
We continue to envelope in our disappearance.

In the seam of my sickness I submerge within these contaminated nerves,
Fearing the silence with thirst not to be disturbed,
But absurdly I yearned your unhealthy and perplexed words to be heard,
My tender nature reserved an exclusive place to keep you conserved,
Unstable but concerned I’d preserve you like an herb,
I slurred for forgiveness but observed perhaps this was my turn,
But with your freedom you turned away and flew away like a bird.
Now relentless and pure I burn the surface of my figure, no intent to return.

Yet once we were young, wild and free,
Conducting our train with no fear of where we’d soon be,
The sweet breeze guaranteed the destination with ease,
Imagination without knowledge, amid glee and degree,  
We’d dive and rise above the salty sea,
Later meet beneath that tree with belief the starry sky we’d seize,
Through the debris you still held in your hand the key,
And we’d conquer our dreams, what we sought and believed.

But as I’ve grown within my questioning dome,
My home of stones has nothing to be shown,
Prone to disown my weakened skin and bones,
Candidly I pacify the clone I’ve never known.
In hopes to be flown far ahead of this zone,
I’d hover above in a whispering tone, draining my disease as it’s blown.
My soul will glisten and roam, looking down at my new golden throne,
As I’ve postponed to recognize the beauty of the Earth & my own – No longer shall I be alone.
John B Jun 2012
all aluminum alloy ammo  

bane bat brakes badly basters back bones

come call cthulhu Cristo cuz

dead ******* dominate de download  

even elven eternal endowments

fail frivolously flaming for fair fraudulence

grant good goggles give grandiose gratuity

how hella homeboys have how he has

If I ignore I implicate its implore

jack jacks jacks

kay killla kooks krack

LAPD locks la lackeys

maybe mom made mad monoxide

no, no natural nix NOx neutralizes

oh over overt opp only overlay orphic

please protest politely panic pretenses perpetuity

quiet quivers quiet queens

remember rage reaps reciprocity

so sour sits supplanters sat

to tell them to tare trail *** tat?

universal unhappiness underlays under us

victory validates victors vanity

why warble when winners wont waste worry wanting

x-axis x-rays Xerophagy Xanax Xanthorroea

you yodel yonder yet yahweh's yells Yarrish

zero zag zealots zoos
.......if they got me they'll get you to
Alexander  K  Opicho
(Eldoret,Kenya;aopicho@yahoo.com)


Dear Beloved potential victim to my foul intentions,
How are you today and your family, I covet it most
I am a citizen of Sudan but currently staying in Burkina Faso.
My name is Miss Ngara Deng,24years old daughter of the richest Sudanese
My wealth in prankstery is spilling over the tumbler of truth,

We originated from Sudan the confused kingdom of penchant tribalism
I got your E-mail address/profile through my justifiable slyness
in the internet search from your country of prank victims,
In the national chamber of commercial fraudulence,
When I was searching for a good and trust worthy person
Who will be my friend  even I con him to the apex of my efforts,

And I believe that it is better we get to know each other
Better and trust each other so that I determine your degree of folly
Because I believe any good relationship depends on your callousness
Will only last if it is built on truth and real love of I frauding you,
My father Dr. Dominic Dim who gave birth to me
A universal queen of fraud an pranking
He was the former Minister for SPLA  contraband Affairs
And Special Adviser to President Salva Kiir in regard to tribalism,
As the main virtue of South Sudan.

My father Dr. Dominic Dim Deng, blessed be his name
And my mother including other top Military officers
And top government officials in this game of ours,
Had been on board when the plane crashed
On Friday May 02, 2008. May be Museven Knows
After the burial of my father, all pranks were there,
My uncles conspired and sold my father’s properties
To a Chinese expatriate and live nothing for me.

One faithful morning, gave a twist of fate;
I opened my father’s briefcase and found out the false documents,
Which he have deposited huge amount of fake money in one bank
In Burkina Faso with my name as the next of kin in prankster,
I traveled to Burkina Faso to withdraw the money
so that I can start a better prank life and take care of wiles.


On my arrival, full in arms as you know am a liar
The Branch manager of the Bank, a Burkinabe
Whom I met in person and desire he was my prey,
Told me that my father’s instruction, vicious ones
To the bank was the money is released to me ,
Only when I am married or present a ****** s trustee
Who will help me and invest the money conning guys overseas
I have chosen to contact you after my prayers and ploys.
I believe that you will not betray my trust.

But rather take me as your own sister in crime
Though you may wonder why I am so soon revealing myself
to you without knowing you to be good in pranking,
Well, I will say that my mind of a thief convinced me
That you are the true foolish person to steal from.

More so, I will like to disclose much to your folly
if you can help me to cheat the police  by hiding in your country
Because my uncle has threatened to counter prank me,
The amount is $8.4 Million and I have confirmed
From the bank in Burkina Faso that am only lying,
You will also help me to place the money in heavenly treasure
In a more profitable swashbuckling venture in your Country
However, you will help by recommending to me
A nice University in your country from when I get a diploma
In thieving and frauding,
So that I can complete my studies in this marketable field


it is my intention to dupe you properly
As you get trapped in my rackets;
The balance shall be my capital
In your illusive establishment
As soon as I receive your interest in helping me,
I will put things into action immediately
In the light of the above of the nonsense
I shall appreciate an urgent message from you
Indicating your ability not to sense a lie
and willingness to handle this transaction in foolish sincerity.

Please do keep this only to yourself as it is fortunes fool
You should contact with my prank email ID below;
missngarad@gmail.com
Sincerely yours,
Miss Ngara DENG
we can use poetry to fight cyber con men
Brandi May 2013
This is from the mind of the deranged--
Little did I know, I had a pleasure for carnage.

It always made me intoxicated.
To conceive the crying children,

As they pray to their begetter--
For a place of refuge.

I explicitly annotate--
It's not me who you resent.

I have so much tribulation--
I wish I was habitual.

But I'm afraid I am a bit melancholy--
Which leads me to foresee.

Many deaths that are to be--
Between this fraudulent identity.
Manu M Oct 2015
My darling you do know right?
That I love you in spite of every ‘in spite’
And forever would love you this way
I know you’d wonder-Why did I leave then?
Well sweetheart, have you ever seen
The sun and the moon intertwined?

We always believed that I
was your apple sauce
And you my pork chop
Either went missing
The delight shall remain incomplete

But love, you do know it hit both of us
How weak was the foundation of this structure
Infallibility is not something each
Relationship can afford
With which I perfectly agree

But only if it were for errors committed
Honestly in love
This moon would have defied
The force of gravity to reach his sun
Even when it meant burning his identity

My ashes would also have
Whispered your name girl
If only our attempts had been honest
Just for once

For the eyes drifting upwards
Did see us together at times
But hon, we were never intertwined

If only our apologies had some substance
If only our love were more than just pleasure
If only it were based on truth rather than fraudulence        
If only we had recognized OUR relevance

I’ll not waste much of your precious time
End I shall this sorrowful ballad
With these final parting lines-
“That every night this moon re-lives
The vivid memory of
The light radiated from his sun
That helps him hide the bruises, ugly scars
Dark holes in his soul from
The world’s gaze

Shining brightly every crepuscule
Following a similar phenomenon
As that of the celestial sun- giving its light
From millions of miles away to its celestial moon
The distance in no way affects the connection
between the two

Cupcake we both know that the moon
Will never have light of its own
It is the sun that will forever be the source
And the miles will forever exist
And must be maintained
To prevent the breaking of hearts beyond repair
Prevention is a necessity
Since the sound of such an apocalypse
Might remain unheard
receiving none’s attention and solace
For sound does not travel in space”
JR Lacehewe Feb 2013
They are

                monotony.

Pulchritudinous

               ­               aesthetics,

Alleviation

                      to­

                             seclusion.

Do you not feel the heat – my wrist on yours
burn tales more rich than ours on nights more dark
than souls too tense to feel the eyes of God
draw shame on backs of necks so close?

Or is it

                                                             ­                                                                 ­        just me?

Conjuring

                    fraudulence

Accrediting

   ­                    ludicrous

                                          buoyancy

I know its there I know the life that flows
through limbs of mine can move through cloth to touch
the skin of yours I hear your eyes I see your voice
I breath you in why else are we so close?

And

          innocent

And

            serene

And

  ­          happy




And

                                        ­                                                                 ­                                    secluded.




How can you sit not feel those things I feel
not think those thoughts I think not see your wrist
sink in to flesh as soft and pink as lips
I long to taste? We are al-ways al-ways
al-ways al-ways al-ways al-ways

so close...



They are

                 tolerable

Doused

               ardor

                            maybe.

Benumbed

            ­           incandescence

                                                  ­  maybe.

But still

               They are
                                                             ­                                                                 ­                             here.
Alexis Martin Sep 2012
I wish I could give you
more reasons to love me
but I am sorely lacking
in that department
.
I wish you could see me
the way I see the flowers
but I am sadly hidden
behind fraudulence
.
I wish I could tell you
how my love for you grows
but I am fully consumed
with fear of rejection
.
I wish you could consume me
like the waves eat the shoreline
but I am surely no source
of any nutrition for your soul
tread Oct 2011
Providing you survive the drive inside the suicide lane,
The inane objections of several secular seconds will both drive you insane and tame the frame of irrational sanity,
Which stripped away the man in me,
And grabbed my sleeve convincingly to lament the angry laugh of free...

Enterprise; do I comprise of many lies,
As you do?
A gift or prize; yes I surmise the former plays no voodoo.
Like the latter,
Piter pater, I ask exactly, "Do you,"

Truly
care
to know...

If existence is but chatter in a blankness with no matter,
And no welcome mat to meet the merry-minded Happy Hatter's
Dash to seek that ****** infatuation with the sadder shift of anger which,
Shook the sheets to show off that the banker is an actor,
Who washes
Shame
Away
In calm, hot showers.

What empowerment.
We underwent the chance event,
Which supplemented discontent with the rich and single one percent,
How kind it was of him to lend,
His hand,
For both of mine.

What malcontent.
We thought dissent would overthrow the circus tent,
Which represented forced consent with the oppressed by blissful fraudulence
Remaining 99 percent.
Peasants, plebeians, proletariat;
We poke the U.N. Secretariat,
To ask again,

"Are we there yet?"

"Are we there yet?"

And silence is how were always met.
We drop it, trust they won't forget,
About us, suffering cold sweats;
As we fear unwanted debt,
They won't forget,
They won't forget,
They won't forget
About us.

Yet competition takes it place,
And twists that sympathetic face,
To grab a poor man's knowledge base,
To ask him,
"What do
I gain
from assisting
The likes
Of you?"

The poor man bellows, "you're poor too!
Like those who can't afford shampoo.
You can't afford my point of view,
It risks a loss that's overdue,
And money makes you misconstrue,
Existence."

And if existence is but chatter in a blankness with no matter,
And no welcome mat to meet the merry-minded Happy Hatter's
Dash to seek that ****** infatuation with the sadder shift of anger which,
Shook the sheets to show off that the banker is an actor;
He forgot the human aspect should always be the biggest factor,
On his spreadsheets as he calculates productivity's next chapter;


What empowerment.
We underwent the chance event,
Which supplemented discontent with the rich and single one percent,
How kind it was of him to lend,
His hand,
For both of mine.

This isn't right.
I question fines,
And wonder, where's the kindness?
What happened to our kindred spirits?
Did we leave all that behind us?
Is money truly all we want,
And happiness put second?

The future is unwritten,
So follow me;
*Expect resistance.
Matt Jursin Nov 2010
I get lost in...
Hidden ideas and deeper meanings to what I'm feeling.
Looking for something real to believe in.
Over-thinking usto...start me drinking...
But I kicked that ***** to the curb and built myself a bandwagon.

That **** was poison, see...
I had to let myself help me.

Now when I close my eyes...
All I can hear is the...
Rattle-rattle-click, rattle-rattle-click...
The sound of round rotations, rolling over bricks.
Measured like a metronome...
Water droplets echo as they drip.

But if freedom is defined by the thoughts in my own my mind, then I'm frozen in the timeframe of tomorrow, never-yesteryear.
And I'm still a revolutionary, I expect the best in Here(point to heart).
And by that, I mean exempt from holding contempt for another mass of energy.
Another open ear.
Another open mind.
Another heavenly body.
Another mystical meteor shower.
Another alien species placed on this planet by a "higher power".

But who am I to point fingers?
To point out flaws.
To point out fraudulence.
To pinpoint the factors that built your facade.
To pick through your red brick fictons of how you think I should be perceiving god.

See...I get lost.
In a magic land...
With a tragic hand.
A tear in time and space...
A human definition of race...
One we so often judge with a 2 sided face.
This piece is more about self control and placing judgment on others than drinking or religion.
Anneteiku May 2016
There's no victory without battle
Winning isn't always a victory
Be pure to your countenance
Fraudulence will never do
Strive for excellence
Fight for righteousness
Lead us to honesty
Allison Neal Nov 2010
Perfidious lover,

With ambidextrous heart,

You’ve caused my mind to birth
A doubt



Entrapper of my love,

I gift my disenchantment ,

For choking romantic
Ideals


Dear insidious love,

With your infantile ways,

Such brilliant fraudulence,

Has to be commended

Homage
**Paid
Dina Fitzpatrick Oct 2013
Ohhh it's not your fault
Pretty little girl
You can't decipher all the
Fakes and frauds of the world

C'mon,
oh... Shake those thoughts of Frustration
No need to be so Aggravated
Agitated or
Devastated.
People lie
It's not that complicated

It's a situation
A lesson
An experimentation
An inauguration
Don't be sad about the
Miscommunication
or the Fraudulence of representation

Hold your head high
Don't let thoughts Amplify
Multiply
Intensify
It's not a lullaby
Say your goodbyes
Allen Wilbert Mar 2014
Just Words

swindle
fraudulence
deceit
scam
those words cheat us
happy
joy
fun
laugh
those words bless us
depression
sadness
hopelessness
suicidal
those words worry us
bewildered
baffled
dumbfounded
perplexed
those words confuse us
awesome
amazing
terrific
outstanding
those words are us
love
lust
***
passion
those words excite us
jealous
selfish
vindictive
desirous
those words envy us
all these words can describe
everyday feelings we all share.
Manu M Jun 2015
Extravagance is amusing
But oh! Mother
Glamour can never out power
Thy love, so sumptuous

Thy hugs and kisses
Have brought my peccant soul
Back to the place of its origin
I beg thou to pardon me
And consummate me
With your embrace, so sweet

The svelte Modus Vivendi
In which I was occupied
Its fraudulence I have realized
Oh! Dear father
I do not care about
Those puffy cushions
And velvet blankets
All I want is thy forgiveness
That’ll spread fragrance of bliss
Across my soul

For I have returned to my home,
Come rejoice
As thy daughter salvaged
Herself from a path
Laden with sinful gold

Sailed I have the sea of redemption
But my resolve would not
Purify without thy acceptance
Save me! My Guardians
And let me end my repentance
With the touch of thy affection.

~Manu M.
One cannot underestimate the importance of conviction.

This is a creed to which I always have found truth,
it guides me along my chosen path, quite nicely.
Why is it so true, you may ask? The answer is simple.
Conviction is the salesman of deception.

When you have conviction in the words you say,
the majority of people will believe your every way.
You can sell steaks to vegetarians, milk to vegans,
welfare to conservatives, and to conservationists, fracking.

More often than not, people do not, in truth, care
about things like honesty and nobility, and other 'tys.
They desire the things they want to hear, the comfort
of a beautiful, loving lie whispered in their ear.

If you would, perchance, inquire an example,
consider a family I met on a trip in Iowa.
Through simple conviction of my words,
I convinced them I needed a brain transplant.

Little did their feeble minds make the connection,
a transplant of sorts did indeed occur then.
But not from brain to brain was this operation,
it was from their weighty wallet to mine.

Believe you me, conviction is the key to all.
So, if you wish to make the skies rain for you
practice your speech, bellow your voice,
gesticulate your motions, mind your expressions.

This last tip, of this is most import, is to believe.
Believe in the words you know to be false,
as if they were the last words your mother ever said,
and the common, simple man will you make believe.

Now, you perhaps may be questioning my creed,
whether or not it is truly 'right' to make pockets bleed.
Dispose your silly questions of morality petty,
but if it comforts your bleeding heart, then consider this.

As I said, people do not want to hear the truth.
It is a poison to the ears, and a toxin to the heart,
it can pain one ceaselessly with grief ever pouring
like some sort of grim faucet of running tears.

The truth stings worst, and people like ourselves,
we are the doctors of deceptions who prescribe
placebos that comfort and heal those emotional wounds.
Like a comforting static, we tell them what they want to hear.

Luckily for men such as myself, the line between telling
and selling is thinner than ice. All it takes is some
faint hint of manipulation, along with a good dose
of conviction, and the mark is had, the sale is made.

So when you find yourself feeling somehow guilty,
just remember that what we provide is a noble service.
And if you, still, feel the pangs of shame stabbing you,
just stop and check your pocket stabbing you with wealth.

There is but one warning I would be most remiss,
if I were to not dispense, and you're the fool, if you miss.
There exists a certain breed of people who will see
through your pretty words and sweet deception.

They are the minority of those who seek Truth,
that fleeting fool, and will try to debunk you through.
When placed as equals, Truth will always defeat Lie,
but this, do not fear, for we possess a certain weapon.

We possess a strength in numbers, that mob mentality.
If a job well you've done, then you should have a flock
to fight their logic with loudness, to strike their honesty with hate,
to stab their reason with rakes, to slice their knowing with noise.

If all goes according to the stated plan of attack,
then you should not have to fight or argue at all,
to dismiss those pesky gnats of truth who would
try and illumine our vile fraudulence clear.

And so, we are free to continue leading and deceiving,
the very ones who for us they fight at our side.
It is an agreeable arrangement we have found,
and one that you will soon enough warm up to.

I know this will be a phrase I have repeated,
but it is a most mighty maxim that bears to be said.
Never underestimate the importance of conviction,
when you seeks to practice the art of deception.
Monika Sep 2018
Bleakest drape inescapence.
Impertinent involuscence.
Stemming from a copulent.
Incongruent malocculent.

Plead among no relent.
Populate incompetent.
Unvaried fraudulence.
Clarity accomplishments.

In foggy eyes, the view reset.
Across the smoke, a sober fret.
A mind that rose from utter death.
Again to draw, refreshing breath.
JA Perkins Jan 2022
I danced in a ten
percent chance of rain;
not just because it
beat the odds,
but because
it never even
considered them.
It reminded me that
systems and
statistics are
man-made and fallible -
boasting with a
sure tone,
yet still confined
to near fraudulence..

You can tell me
it’s unlikely to rain,  
but it won't
stop it from pouring.
You can tell me
there's no God,
but it won't stop
Him from healing
these festered wounds.
And you can tell me
I'll never walk,
but it won't keep
me from dancing..
Beat the odds
Fraudulence
That seems so real
Like the feeling on my finger tips
Brushing water on your cheek

Smile lines
Thick from fake
Please have my heart to take
I won't give up when it's difficult
I won't get discouraged when
Things don't go my way ill only
Say, it's ok and accept it there and then

I will no longer complain about Rain
cause its gonna rain sometimes
and I refuse to just write generic views so im
likedso if I disagree my belief is mine

I won't glorify drugs, violence or ***
Only make it a topic when it's truth
I will only embellish for obvious effect
And never to ***** cause that is art abuse

I will face my problems and own up
To any and all mistakes I make
I pray god kills me if I become infatuated
with materials or fake

I will follow my dreams even when it
Looks hopeless without drift
and never care if it fails
cause ill never have to wonder "what if "

I will respect other artists,
other Genres, the esoteric
I won't judge, discriminate or hate
anything/anyone without sufficient merit

Ill take risks, then take my loss like a man
Let the past go And move on
I will never forget that there's always someone
more determined more smart&mor;; strong

I will talk less so i listen
take advice when it is given
I will be grateful for the life im livin
Remain hungry ambitious and driven

I will pass along opportunity
and good fortune to the troubled
I will always pay it forward to the hungry
like I was given only double

I will no longer say anything
about anyone I don't first say
To their face and at the right place,
and i wont make everything about pay

I will work more than I play
Keep my word whenever I give it
I will not speak or act with impaired judgement
whether drunk or livid

I will embrace who I am and not
Embellish fraudulence to be
Anything or anyone I am not
or any success gained was not by me

I won't act according to jealousy
greed or even in lust
I will never turn on a friend or family
or violate my poetic code of trust

I will never give up,
give in or relinquish power in anyway
Even if I know I'm gonna lose
ill still fight like ill live another day

I won't make excuses or place blame
For my lack of vision or growth
And if I succeed or exceed
ill never be pretentious and boast

I will remember where I'm from
who i am and who I was with along the way
I will forgive and forget
no matter how bad I'm hurt or betrayed

I will never fully hate another human being
or refuse to love or trust
Just because i was mistreatedin the past
Ill never think of "I" before "Us"

I will not be too proud
to ask for help if I really need it
No matter how good I do ill always
be humble and never turn conceited

I promise to live this mission statement
not just write it so u read it
I promise to honor and live by these
Words then always repeat it

And always repeat it
And always repeat it.....
I promise to honor and live by these Words
And always repeat it.....
Kayla Apr 2016
there's a sea of people, who have lost their humanity
and they are swimming fast, in the same direction
and they all know my name
and they are all just like me
there are so many mistakes to make
lessons to learn
cigarettes to smoke (or in your case, not)
youth
sweet, sweet dancing youth
an effervescent girl battling the monsters of self-(expression, understanding, and love too)
fraudulence
there's a truth behind the lies
once we find it, we will never have to grow up
this is one of my very first poems...crazy to see how much a writing style can develop in just a year.
Urmi Jan 2019
In the midst of a summer day,
With the sun gleaming golden brown
I wake up to find a flickering ray,
That interferes with my thinking crown.

I'm sitting down on my bed,
And travelling to far-off harbours
I cannot think of anything else,
But just the magical grandeurs.

I've reached the Crow's shore of Ketterdam,
And am sailing for Hogsmeade
The Ferolind's joltingly reached Nottingham,
And I'm not thinking of nothing else.

The purple tulips, the marvellous castle,
All shiny on a shining day
The wind's whistles, the leave's rustle,
All make me delightful on this day.

The world seems so tiny,
From up above the blue skies
The Firebolt I'm now riding,
Seems to supress the little lies
I used to take in as a child.

Suddenly everything's so harsh,
I think I'm in the land of the White Witch
I crave for Turkish Delight so hard,
That I know not of the awaiting risk
Into the dark castle, as the daughter of eve.

I was so lost in the mysterious magical whirlwind,
I think I've travelled far, but not even a mile
When I open my eyes, I clearly see the still wind
Of dust, crime and fraudulence all in a pile
That tempts me to snivel for the fair play,
Since I'm the lost girl and the world, a treacherous display.
SoupHands Apr 2016
I wake up itching every now and again
And I go the whole day thinking of bed bugs
Little nuclear bombs going off all over my arms and legs
Which is why I cut my nails now
I revisit that bridge every once in a while
To see if it's still smoldering
It looks war torn to be honest
That was one hell of a fire
Love becomes rage and that flame can't really be put out

It feels like every day I have to pick my self respect off the floor
And fight, just to open my eyes
Im paralyzingly numb, the air around me feels like shackles
Things dont make sense, I cant figure out what is disconnected
When I feel weak, I add another memory to the pyre
In an attempt to come to grips with this

It feels like Im starting to lose my sense of humor
My brain is picking **** apart
Cannibalizing to bolster what little defense is left
Everything is so tense, so grey
But I guess you cant fight DNA; the way you were built

Truth be told, I wish I could rip your tongue out through your teeth
I wish I could inflict on you, as much damage is still standing within me
But instead Im an aimless drunk, flailing at targets that dont exist
Finding fraudulence and lies in everyone I see
Hexa-focles, drunk goggles, eyes never built for my head
Welded in place, make me eager for untruth in people
Instead of hungry for their support
And the more I struggle, the more I deny my lies
The more these anti truths burn into my brain

My thoughts are a ******* hurricane
Im gorged with mistrust, greedy with skepticism, and eager to find an enemy
This isn't me. I think that every day
I dont even know who I am anymore

Chemically, I dont have the ability to comprehend or repair myself
They say the mind bends and twists in order to cope with anguish
It feels like mine is on the verge of breaking every day

Sometimes I feel like ending it all
I cant stop thinking about this
And it feels like Ill never recover
But pain is like matter
You cant destroy it; it'll just get passed around
And a weaker, more gentle mind would be burdened with pain they don't deserve
My reality is chemically changing all because of you

Youre a quitter, a hypocrite, a joke
Im not
I dont quit just because it's easy to do it
You do
I love so intensely, but I hate exponentially
And never in my most absurd dreams would I feel a hate like this

You begged on your knees to be forgiven
Yet you remained a traitor
Safe to say whatever you did you me pales in comparison to the emotional coma youre too dumb to find a way out of

It hurts to know that hurt is the only reminder I have left
To know that I can still feel, still hate
I learned that you cant surprise me, only validate my suspicions
Pain has absolutely no limit
Rock bottom does not exist
And that all people can be defined by patterns

But I watched you abandon your passions over and over
Become more of the type of person you used to laugh at

You left it to me to tell me you didnt love me anymore

Sometimes I feel those bed bugs
Those hot, lonely nights
All the burns and cuts
You took a part of my life and distorted it beyond recognition
I will always hate you, I will never forgive you

Remember when I told you about when i was young?
And I told you that I'd see girls with some ******
And I'd think, *******, what does a guy have to do to get said a girl like that?
Looks like Ill never know
current torture in my life
#depression #heartbreak
JP Goss Nov 2014
I know I think the best
When surfing across the internet
Or scanning a page for class
Some forum
To shift my ******* towards,

Whether to impress, or to forget.
It’s all the same.
I do not laugh at the right time
And end up in breakdowns
When I’m confronted with the actor that is also me.

Call it fraudulence if you will,
It’s a means to ends of the perfect relationship
I’ve fictionalized in my head.

I’ve fallen in love with falling love
And get off to just holding hands and feeling wanted.

Does memory bless me the inspiration to write down in verse
Some alternative that proves, I know,
Useless
In the long run?

Are the psychologists right?
Am I destined to die by my own hand?
My own pen?
By cause of my own disposition?

Thoughts of suicide, depression, endless solipsism pervade
My little godless world.
Poetry solidifies it.

*******. ******* whose rejection is undeserving of my hatred
Whose own life is the object of my own stupid, adolescent, immature mode
Of healing, whose subjectivity, whose humanness
Is of its own design and accord—I do not own you
You are as you are: not mine, but your own.

And I hate you because you do not oblige me as I think you should
You do as you ought, as you do—

Is this what it feels like?

Where is there happiness if not for in the end?
Mateuš Conrad Dec 2016
it has been over a year, to what has become:
    i have made too many points to be caged into one
     fraudulence, or one whimsical suggestion
that might entomb me... too many times has
the wind been undecided concerning what direction
my thought would travel to,
if my i am remained enthralled
within a stasis plateau... i cannot say how many
works could be written from a
string of i, 1, think, 2, therefore, 3,
i, 4, am, 5: five words... perhaps because the fact
is so recurrent, and so diverse
you can almost always encounter it
over and over again,
   in a kaleidoscope -
                  you can say:
how much of my thought precipitates
      toward my being so
to thus be instructed?
   and what if one says the opposite:
like... i think parallels i am...
  thought parallels beings...
and for that: we have the case
of ontology...
                    oh this is old territory,
and only a few could find a hammock
in these arguments...
          because there is no pop glory in
them to be found: for all things that
such postscriptum remarks are these days:
they are not dealt with in this world...
for let us say: man finds it truly
       uncomfortable to be cradling a soul...
materialism bites back with a vengefulness
  to completely destroy such entities:
and call upon history to speed-up
   their reasoning of the profundity of
the argument first given: as history speeded-up
   is but mythology...
  to quickly forget.
                 i rarely like to recreate my
steps back into this fact of the pentagram...
          it sounds too over-ridden with
past examples that have been left alone
or alooft...      they are no longer in line
with the vogue zeitgeist...
or the zeitgeist of the current vogue...
      but it has been over a year
since i made this entry: and yes, i remember it...
did you know that walking in temperatures
   in the range of -1 to -3ºC  is actually more
pleasant than walking in temperatures
in the range of +1 to +3ºC?
          i guess it could be counter-intuitive...
but there's that outer-suburban road
in the night... and that empty street,
   and there's me walking right down the middle
of it, rather than on the pavement...
   and it's so much more pleasant
in temperatures below 0ºC than just slightly
above... more pleasant: because it's
actually warmer... and the reason being?
there's absolutely no moisture in the air...
suddenly the water once bound to water vapour
becomes crystals on the pavement...
   and yes, this be but the second night
when Jack Frost came back...
likened to yesteryear... that strange sight,
of paparazzi crystal flashing on the pavement...
i might have asked for a red carpet too...
but there is was, the paparazzi frost
    tingling on the pavement...
       a red carpet scenario with an audience of 1...
below 0ºC... the warmer air of frost,
where water no longer exacts authority in the air...
   as if laden with a tombstone that
my shadow is... but so much clearer to be content
with such a burden: than an image in a lake,
or a mirror, so much less burden with a shadow
than a reflection...
                    wherever i look i gaze at an atom
bomb explosion, yet without strobe-shadow-etchings
on Hiroshima brick walls... i gesticulate
  my shadow like a puppeteer... and it pleases me
to see the puppet walk and trot, and swiggle
down a bottle of beer, and ooze out cigarette
smoke between street-lamps...
               and... fay! no strings attached!
o whiskey: my amber fay... o amber fay!
      through your tides of moon and mood,
that none of us have seen fathomable in temperaments
above what the prescription suggests:
         not you puritan Amber at room temperature:
for you are not cognac...
   or classic 1950s Hollywood dabbling with soda water...
             on the tip of my tongue: a bonsai iceberg
tickles my tongue, and the glass rattles with many
of them: like castanets!
                        there you are:
   in the deafness of the night my chauffeur and
    snogging suitor: for each bite of frost indoors
i twirl to romance: that no barbiturates could ever
provide... then let me teach the one who ended
his literary career asking to be a disciple of Dionysus,
let eternity be for me: a chance to teach him
how to appreciate you...
                  of course the Green Fairy will be there
as if the Lilith of Eden: lizardly green
or perhaps chameleonic rainbow tinged
so frivolous as to be envious and yet hide it;
for if he truly wanted to be a disciple
     to the fervours of a company with you -
i can spare him a lesson or due, for him to complete
his transvaluation of all values, and perhaps
    the untimely permutations.
                yet only with prior obstacles already
cited, as if lines wriggling toward nowhere of a
student in an hour's worth of detention...
      a mantra must be stated, and then avoided:
the serpent of narrative must sidewind
    away from the clear indication of what can
possibly come prior, and post.
                      still... a year ago i looked at the same
sight as i did today: the flickering of frost
on the pavement under a street-lamp...
     like a red-carpet event at a movie premier,
frost like photographic paparazzi flashing -
but this? o Amber Fay... such a subtler version,
that metaphor of epileptic nervousness
         that comes without warning and sooths
having strained one's eyes on the heavens
too often... to think: such an array of diamonds
on a brutish scrape of pavement:
        o such blissful humbling by the coming of
winter... with a Quasimodo to add to the scene:
    to look down upon this world and feel
a hunch about what route to take...
                is but a frightful realisation that
by looking up... once sees so few a chance to appropriate
      passive magic of this world
              and you and the world entwined for a purpose
to simple see what needs to be seen:
     and expect no fathomable truce between
such sights on a frosty night on the pavement:
   and  the celestial       zodiac patterns
     that speak neither of man or a god: but simply of aeons
  of perfected harmoniousness, to nothing more:
than a ratio.
JA Perkins Oct 2021
Dancing in a ten
percent chance of rain;
In part, because it
beat the odds -
More so, because
it never even
considered them.
Perhaps, it was even
in spite of them.
Or maybe it just
reminded me that
systems and
statistics are
man-made and fallible -
boasting with a
self-righteous tone,
yet still confined
to near fraudulence..

Either way..

You can tell me
it won't rain,  
but you won't
stop it from pouring.
You can tell me
there's no God,
but it won't stop
Him from healing
these festered wounds.
And you can tell me
I'll never walk,
but you won't keep
me from dancing..
There's still hope
edwill makamu Dec 2015
Be loyal and reliable
Be responsible against dreams, wishes, sharing and love
Be patient and facet defiance
Be specific and give positive solutions

Change environment before is overdue
Opt breath and not paradise
Opt harmony and not misery
Facet factuality and not fraudulence
Hold on what or where you deserve

Be thoughtful of every step you take
Think twice before you go further
Finalise everything and do the best.

Be yourself
in life we come across many challenges so we need to be responsible and be ourselves. We need to face those challenges and choose the safe tract.
Hannah Gold Jul 2017
Feed off our fraudulence. Our ethereal entity. Help keep the corrupt at shore. Tell me how love will find her way! In times of our adverse adventures. When our bodies lie limp in the sand... As baleful barbarians take to attack. I will be there... just look. Hidden beyond your shadows. Yet I'm still there And when my troubled winds knock me down.. I'll seek comfort in you.
Anna Elizabeth Jun 2016
I am a ship
Waiting to sink; I am a soldier
Waiting for the inevitable battle

I am standing in an empty ocean waiting for a wave to crash over me and I think about you and how familiar this feels.

How I waited and waited; I waited so long for you to come back but you didn’t

Leaving me stranded on a deserted island
I am the sand, falling through a lonely lover’s fingertips
Or am I the lonely lover?

I didn’t know when to stop searching for you; for a sign that you’d one day reappear amiss the war cries and tell me how badly of a mistake you made

Because I had fallen victim to your cruel fantasies and became engrossed in a love that never existed.

I would stare at the clock, tick-tock, watching the seconds crawl by and wonder how long I’d have to wait before you’d tell me you’re sorry.

Even after everything that you did to me, I still hoped that maybe you loved me and didn’t quite know what to say.

It took me many months to understand that this was no riotous romance, it was an abusive affiliation that was one part love and another part fraudulence and oh, there are days I wish you were here but the desire for your false love does not outweigh the fact that you left me alone, with no where to go, thinking about all the ways I could have ****** up to make you leave forever.

If I could have you back I’d love to say yes, but I promised myself that the answer would be no.
Big Virge Jun 2021
Now It’s A Phrase That I Love  ...
But What Really Is Up... ?!?

With Heads Who Choose To...
... FAKE THE FUNK... !!!

Because It’s Really NOT COOL...
To Be Pulling That Move... !!!

Now These Rhymes Have Come...
As It Approaches... One...
On The First Day Of...
Twenty Twenty One... !!!

It’s DARK Outside...
But Funky Bass Lines...
Are Those That Drive...
This Set of Rhymes...

Cos I’ve Got That Cool Number...
... The Funky Drummer...
Playing In The Background...
That’s Right James Brown...
As I Write These Words Down... !!!

NO FAKING Was ALLOWED...
When He Dropped Funky Sounds... !!!

But... SADLY Now...
A Lot of Folks Around Towns...

Be... Faking The Funk...
In The Talk That They Run... !!!

It’s A SAD Thing To See...
That So Many Human Beings...

Be FAKER Than Tans...
That Some Folks Have...
That Prove That They’re A Sham...

Like The Type of Plans...
That CAN’T Withstand...
The Type of Tests...
That EXPOSE FRAUDULENCE... !!!

Or... Faking The Funk...
Which Now Seems To Be Done...
By Almost... Everyone... !?!

From Women To Men...
Who Choose To PRETEND...
That They’re Your Friend...

And Have Your Best Interests...
... Inside of Their Hearts...

Who Be Faking From The Start...
Right To The End...
of All Their... Pretence... !!!

A GROWING Trend...
That Causes PROBLEMS...
And HINDERS Progress... !!!

The Type That Governments...
Now Tend To DEFEND...
When It Comes To The Things...
That Prove To STING... !!!

Like Personal Trips...
During... PANDEMICS... !!!

These Corona Times...
Have A Funky Vibe...

That Have Clearly Supplied...
... A LOT of LIES...
And A LOT of CRIMES...
of... DIFFERENT Types... !!!

So... What Is Right...
And What Invites... ???

... FAKING THE FUNK...
Like... HUMAN SKUNKS... !!!

Or Indeed Like Presidents...
Who Now Will Run...
How It Is That Humans...
Trump This New Virus... !!!

So Now Of Course Its Biden...
Who Like Neo Is... The One...

Who Apparently WON'T...
Be... Faking The Funk... !!!

Even When Some of The Votes...
From Last Years Election...
Still Have People STUMPED... ?!?

Now I’m Really Not One...
Who Believes It Was Rigged...
But Can’t Help But Think...
That Something STINKS... !!!

Like... OLD RACISTS...
Who... Look Like HIM...

I Said... LOOK Like Him... !!!

Because Supremacists...
CAN’T Possibly Be In Presidential Seats... !?!

But Hey... LOGICALLY...
If Bill Clinton Could LIE...
To The World And His Wife... !!!

... Faking The Funk...
Is Something That’s Been Done...
By... U.S. Presidents... !!!!!!

From Nixon To Trump...
To The Likes of Biden...

How Can Anyone TRUST...
Presidents... AMERICAN... ?!?

To... NOT Tell Lies...
About Anything Tied...
To The LOSS of Life... !!!

Like This Corona Disease...
That Now Is Deemed...
To Be A... Global EMERGENCY... !!!

Something Smells Funky...
But It Ain’t A Cool Beat... !!!

And As For The BRITS...
People Need To Think...
About What’s Been Shown...
In... How They Roll...

When It Comes To Things...
Like... Historical Links...
To... COLONIAL Tricks... !!!

That WEREN'T Straight Up...
They’ve... Faked The Funk...
For Many GENERATIONS... !!!!!!

And Now We KNOW...
When It Comes To Black Folks...
Funky Stuff Has Always Run...
And Clearly STILL DOES...
When It Comes To Colours...
That They CLAIM To LOVE... !!!

So What Matters Now...
Needs To Be Checked Out... !!!

Before Running Around...
And Claiming To Be PROUD...
of Our Dark Skins... !!!

People Need To THINK...
BEFORE Making CLAIMS...
That Are MORE Than FAKE... !!!

When It Comes To Skin Tones...
That Are Black Just Like Holes...
Where Most Black Folks...
... Won’t Boldly Go...
And That’s NOT A JOKE... !!!

It’s The Type of Quote...
That Proves That I’m A Bloke...
Who DOESN'T Fake The Funk...
To Now Be Up In The Club...

of LIARS And Buyers...
of Talk That’s MIRED...

By MORE Than A STENCH...
of... What Is FED...
As Being Proud Blackness... !?!

You’d Better LOOK CLOSE...
At A LOT of Black Folks...
And Check Which Skin Tones...
Are The Ones They Chose...

To Embrace And Breed...
To Build Families... !!!

Just Look Around Now...
It’s... Mixed Race Kids...
Who Are Now The Black Kings...
Receiving HONOURS...
From Leaders Like JOHNSON...

Which To Me’s A PROBLEM...
Because He’s A WRONG'Un... !!!

Who To Me DOESN'T Seem...
To Be The Type Who Deals...
In TRUTHFUL Deeds And HONESTY... !!!

Like A Lot of These Chumps...
In... Governments...
He’s Just Another One...
Who Just Like His Chums...
And... PRESIDENTS... !!!

ARE NOT Being TRUE...
Like These People Who...
Like To Run Their Gums...
And JOIN The Club...
of These New Age PUNKS...

Who Be Running Round Towns...

Just....

.... “ Faking The Funk “.... !!!
Too MANY are out there doing it !
Tyler Frisbie Oct 2016
The world around you is fading
The pathway you walk on is crumbling and out of stretch
The voices you hear are your own mistakes
The mistake you put into your mouth and chew
The mistake you inhale through your airways, as if it's a fetal revive
This mistake will be repeated more than once
Considered a choice by day and a mistake by night
As a cycle it will be passed on by your generation
It fades with you as you forget where life is going
Mortally influenced by everyone who keeps their mistakes secret
This mistake will be the last after it becomes a choice of life
Now it's no longer a mistake; a choice of living in lies and fraudulence of everyone around you
It fades
Ken Mears Nov 2019
Death rides at midnight

Filling the land with blight

He casts a frightful image

As he rides through the village


His frightful scythe gleams

Wet with the blood of unrealized dreams

The cold, hard metal

Is uncaring enough to unsettle


Beneath his dark hood

Lies nothing good

Only the husk of a man

Who signals the end of a lifespan


His skeletal horse

He rides along his dutiful course

Whinnying as he stops

To **** the farmer's crops


Solemn is his duty

To take away life's beauty

Unbearable to a living man

The underworld's ghastly helmsman


The pistol is his herald

In his black cloak appareled

Weapons of war

Bring him to the door


His job is made no easier

Nor and breezier

By mankinds love of violence

Or vile fraudulence


All the thousands of young souls

Lives lost without completing their goals

Brought to a swift end

By Death only to attend


Death rides at midnight

Filling the land with blight

He casts a frightful image

As he rides through the village

Searching for souls to pillage
jeffrey robin Dec 2015
.



Gentle eyes ...

See thru the massive fraudulence

Of these

Corporate days

Of ****** and theft and madness

Every child as good as *****

We are beyond all decency

We know

But we are frightened

So we pretend to

Fall in love !



We tell our Story of the World

to render it sterile & safe

And " over there "






We are. " over here "

Playing with our genitals

All else (?)

Calls for     Responsibility


So we talk of

BROKEN HEARTS

& die in infantile shame



.
Jeffrey Robin Jun 2016
,,


Noble Son


;;:.

Walks the river road deep into the mountain

Seeking the truth behind all mystery


))((

Indian girl


;;

Real her dreams




We watch the night skies for signs and omens


;;


We see and feel

The brutal lonliness of our

Love

It's total ego

It's total  fraudulence

It's total
Sham


()

So be it

( What else can little children do ? )

With no reality anywhere



.

— The End —