"hoaxes" poems
*Lying on the beach,
it's getting darker each time you blink.
Hear the colorful explosions up high,
the sky is in chaos, don't you think?
Forget what I told you,
leave those words to the tide.
The stars are peaking through,
my ignorance is wild and wide.
A handful of white rocks,
you smile like a maniac.
Breathing out hoaxes,
while I play piano on your back.
The fireworks stopped,
you gave me black rocks.
My blanket was made for two,
yet another startling paradox.*
Feb 23, 2017
Feb 23, 2017 at 9:56 AM UTC
I'm not scared of the tenebrosity of a room, I'm scared of the thoughts which struck me.
I'm not scared of humans, I'm scared of the demon which resides in them.
I'm not scared of being alone, I'm scared people will forget me if I'm not in touch with them.
I'm not scared of going naked in the outside world, I'm scared of losing my self-esteem.
I'm not scared of the society, I'm scared of the hoaxes they spread.
I'm not scared of your love, I'm scared of being abandoned by you.
I'm not scared of dying, I'm scared that I haven't lived enough.
I'm not scared of making memories either good or bad, I'm scared of these memories fading away.
I'm not scared of the past or the future, I'm scared of the present.
I'm not scared of slumping, I'm scared of failure.
I'm not scared of asking questions, I'm scared they'll remain unanswered.
I'm not scared of being corrupt, I'm scared of losing myself. The sacred me.
I'm not scared of the aftermath, I'm scared of the side-effects it has.
I'm not scared of being scared, I'm scared that you'll think I'm frail.
~Saumya.
Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 1:53 PM UTC
I existed for you, mister;
I extolled your complex nature.
I was intoxicated, briefly; you were good.
You excelled at smart seduction;
you outfoxed me with your hoaxes.
I didn't watch my heart the way I should;
but by the flux of your affections,
it meant approximately nothing.
Any buxom minx could have you if she tried.
It was a lonely anticlimax,
but I kicked my sad fixation
and nixed your plans to decimate my pride.
Feb 25, 2011
Feb 25, 2011 at 5:29 PM UTC
My mistress in agony,
my beauty brewed in ashes,
I dine with the facetious and on the families in fashion,
come hop the bandwagon and land on fields growing glasses and a jugular covered in gashes will heal a life full of laughs and a death void of sadness,
I plead with you boys like a judge pleads friendly gabble dances,
like a judge gives phony gabble rants and rants plead deadly drive by flashes.
authority is the hoaxes in which the joker laughs and a televised revolution is the perfect gas,
we will all die in the end,
in agony some may add,
in misery some may brag,
and in infamy like flies drop dead bloated on good trash,
eat up children it's more than just a fad.
-fa5v_O
Sep 24, 2012
Sep 24, 2012 at 5:36 AM UTC
I've seen the work of the best minds
of previous generations scuttled and
passed by like garbage in a dumpster
the angel headed hispters
have gone the way of the dodo
their legacy nothing more than
some printed word and fading images
replaced, for a time
by the high energy punks
fighting the machinery that
keeps us enslaved to the grind
and the money that they own
and use against us
buy buy buy or you’re not
doing your part!
but alas
their legacy is nothing more
than safety pinned faces and scratched
records discarded in bargain bins
replaced, indefinitely by apathy;
global apathy
pockets of resistance remain,
but they are ground down,
shut down before their fire
can be seen
a new movement is needed
angry music, vitriolic poems
revolutionary diatribes
printed in meatspace,
where it affects real people
not as ones and zeros
in blue lcd glow
ignored as rantings of
crazy people;
demonstrations, pranks,
hoaxes, calling out the
powers that be to own up to
their actions and decisions
a pulling back of the curtain
to show the gears and cogs
that make it all work
but who shall lead this
revolution?
not I, I’ve got TV to watch
and things to buy,
and alcohol to numb all the rest
May 19, 2010
May 19, 2010 at 11:16 AM UTC
There’s that smell of smoke again
my neighbor burning leaves across the lot,
brown leaves worthy of being burned simply because they fell
(and because they’ll rot his idea of a yard).
And it’s brown to black and then gray
as all things fall.
And there is the sound of smoke, too
wheezing over the t.v. and radio.
Smoke and sirens (both mythical and mechanical)
as if humanity’s a ribbon caught in a blaze.
Half the globe is burning to be free
waking to turn the light of the sun into the sugar of their lives.
And the other half is snoring through the haze.
Generations snoring for generations
fanning the flames
as they wonder why they burn.
Looking up I see with a Mover’s clarity
this smoke that blinds the sky
stings our lives.
And maybe that’s why they burn,
(this smoke that rises from the hillsides of history)
to block out the sun,
to make men crazy with a human eclipse
with carbon
because the fire inside them won’t let those free blue eyes
drift by without this little scarification of smoke.
A gray river flowing toward the sky
for the live and let die.
This smoke that fills my mouth,
that leaves its bitterness in me,
does it burn dreams as it burns through flesh?
Will it burn all the way to the seed?
We wonder whether dreams shrivel or if they explode
like something thawed on its way to the sun.
Or do they, as the expression goes, simply go up in smoke?
like some slippery eel disappeared in the deep deep dark.
Do we smoke our dreams from two ends like a hapless fiend
or sip them with precious small breaths to drag out our sunsets?
When the smoke is all gone
do we see the hoax of hoaxes?
Or do we choke to death?
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 11:27 AM UTC
The shape of the reason why I am not getting any response from you,
it's ʀʜᴏᴍʙɪᴄᴏsiᴅᴏᴅᴇᴄᴀʜᴇᴅʀᴏɴ
20 regular triangular faces,
30 square faces,
12 regular pentagonal faces,
60 vertices and 120 edges,
Yet you told me our hearts are asymmetrical?
Paint me as the woman you once loved,
Blend my past and future into one another
in sfᴜᴍᴀᴛᴏ
Without lines or borders,
With myriads of minuscule brushstrokes,
Till the smoke hoaxes their visual for few seconds,
Albeit they know what they saw some time after,
The melody of your heartbeat,
Just like my poems,
it's ᴜɴʀʜʏᴛʜᴍɪᴄ
"Lub-dub lub-dub lub-dub lub lub lub-dub",
Every single night failed to lullaby,
So all this time I've been an insomniac,
Wide awake studying the pattern of your pulse as you call it a night.
Feb 10, 2020
Feb 10, 2020 at 10:36 AM UTC
Like many before me
the mirror is my enemy
it shows me things I don't want to be
it shows me a twisted image of reality
It haunts me from within
by planting hoaxes under my skin
burned to my core is the malicious grin
hatched from the depths of my mirror twin
May 10, 2019
May 10, 2019 at 12:21 PM UTC
My friend is my mobile device, Apple is my brand
Where I can see the world in the palm of my hand.
It goes where I go.
It is my cargo.
I Twitter if I need news.
I periscope if I get the blues.
To find great pictures I use Instagram.
Whatever you do don't send me spam.
And on snap chat please like comment and share
you can do something risque if you dare.
Oh and don't forget to follow friend and subscribe.
But for you I will not circumscribe.
I have no time for verbal conversation
I must check my Facebook notifications.
everyone loves me on all of my channels.
I could teach every one how to ride a camel.
And when I'm hungry I check out Yelp and Foursquare.
So I can find only the best restaurants I swear.
I have the menu before I arrive.
I see so many people who are deprived.
No one can argue their point with me.
Because I will google it Bing it or Yahoo all three.
If you make a post on Facebook don't make me catch you in a lie.
I will check Snopes, Hoaxes and Truth or fiction I'm not shy.
Feb 11, 2017
Feb 11, 2017 at 8:39 PM UTC
The gen-z,
Opposition to plastic,
But in their social media sea, see,
The bombastic
amount of plastic people,
Floating and chanting against climate change,
The movement is only steeple,
To acclaim more turtle followers. In exchange
they don’t nothing but say hoaxes,
Let the environment die with a pretty pose.
Mar 18, 2022
Mar 18, 2022 at 2:11 AM UTC
Metals when combined, turn into alloys
Men with exceptional perspectives visualize
Retinas uncover hoaxes, merely fake toys
Say witnessing the mirage, awakens realize
Sep 24, 2017
Sep 24, 2017 at 2:29 PM UTC
A bomb to cost millions to put into the hands of terrorist's is the government's game while the blind follow the blind, the economy's crock, what a shame. While taxpayers follow the illuminatis lies, media pushes hoaxes, the USA's suicide. The worst part, the people dont realize they have the power not the big brother above us, so people get the **** power back, stop being cowards! start protesting what really needs protesting and stop believing all CNN and every other news corp Tell's you, mass panic will be coming yet no ones prepared. Were dummies at the government fair
Nov 2, 2015
Nov 2, 2015 at 12:29 PM UTC
The day comes but once a year
For pranksters, jokers and the fools
To bring a twisted kind of cheer
By breaking all the rules
Doughnuts filled with mayo
Is just one of many things
With googly-eyed potatoes
Hiding in the wings
Masquerading caramel onions
And toothpaste oreos
Fun with food corruptions
Are there for your dispose
Mento ice-cube bombs for soda
Clear nail polish painted soap
Anecdotal numbered quotas
A high jinks kaleidoscope
Pranks and hoaxes they like to play
On unsuspecting fellows
Deeming themselves as attache's
To the 'April Fools' bellows
Oct 16, 2017
Oct 16, 2017 at 12:24 PM UTC
(Written to the tune "On Top of Old Smokey")
When the weather gets Stormy,
What does Trump do?
He talks to his lawyer
And threatens to sue.
So he thinks that suing
Will give him relief?
That doesn't much flatter
A commander in chief.
To be a commander
Requires great skill.
Some people have it;
Some never will.
Will he keep hoping
This storm will not last--
That it won't show up in
Tomorrow's forecast?
Forecasts predict, though,
More storms on the way.
Maybe distractions
Will fill up his day:
He’ll tweet daily nonsense,
Anger more folks,
Fire more staffers,
Or start a new hoax.
The hoaxes he starts will
Stir up his base.
How does he do that
And keep a straight face?
He’ll have to face now
Another big storm.
For him Stormy weather
Is becoming the norm.
-by Bob B (3-19-18)
Mar 19, 2018
Mar 19, 2018 at 9:04 AM UTC
A thousand stories I never read and no one would ever read. With a writer for ever one taken by the ocean sea so I... With every current a million waves that crash if ever we could count them all. Gone. With the time. Gone with the tide. No moon that glows off the pages so that the last light could mourn them. To the sea with assuring forever gone. Have you ever felt as easily gone with the current of a breeze. Well my longevity seems wasted and open doors I've seen that they are only visible if you can see where no one can but God. If you can see the invisible. Shorelines to chase back the only window to my past and its desired much more than anyone person can note for themselves. If only to take sure steps toward what it is i dont want that would leave me numb feeling and then I'd take away the scars too. To move my hands like constellations over the sky. I would retire old feelings some and rehearse my words better and dot my i's. as they say as to not forget. There's a thousand writers I aim to read. With tired hands and No way back from holding secrets of the divine. The sea is bastardly sometimes. Or maybe the frailty of us in fear and the oceans are our account in tears. As humanity searchs we rehearse the mass of us. The forgotten hurt ones leaves to the grave and the rest in smiles. Lets forget and pray and not panic. The Fallen of us will remember the scars and shame. we put them there. On paper. On paper. In Ink and pencil. If they could only stay on paper as journalist hoaxes. But theres an article for small percentages of ghost seen ones and ones that won't live until the morning. And we won't have to know. Because tides change and so does times. We hide behind the mask
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 1:56 PM UTC
every night when you think your parents and sister are sound asleep, you turn your phone on and scroll through tumblr and xnxx for the most depraved forms of ***********
pornhub didn't cut it anymore. you needed something disgusting - something more than a bleach blonde crying and choking on two ***** at once.
tonight, its a girl buried to her neck in dirt. the caption says they'll have her starve to death.
a gifset of a stranger's last moments inside a plastic bag.
riding your hand to ****** you bite down into your soft pillow, grinding your jaws together until the moment passes.
you're always looking for an element of danger on a website known for hoaxes.
congratulations. you satisfied your urges for less than fifteen minutes.
now that it's all passed, its back to jealousy.
jealous of their talent at art.
if i had even half of that talent, think of the beautiful things i could create.
jealous of their shadowy second lives.
my life will never be exciting.
it hurts, a lot. it's a dreary existence you lead.
no matter what you do, it seems to end in failure. your love is evil, you have no money, you're too disabled.
one day a gore blog won't help you.
pray for a serial killer to come and chop your body up - you know it'll never happen.
the only way you'll ever satisfy that itch is by a needlessly complicated suicide plan.
jump off a building and blast your ******* brains out.
it'll be the only legacy you have enough talent for.
Aug 5, 2018
Aug 5, 2018 at 12:22 PM UTC
The carnival has begun,
It is going on and it will go on,
till the last sun has shone.
The puny life that you have lived,
boasting about what you achieved,
Submitting to hoaxes you believed.
Doesn’t amount a speck among the stars,
none of your gold, mansions and the cars,
all of your peace, freedom and those wars.
The commandments that you preach,
the made-up goals that you will reach,
your forbidden codes that you breach.
Are the little games that you like to play,
in your cocoon, you spun with ignorant clay,
feared and dreaded waiting for doomsday.
You never tried to know why you evolved,
All your purposes lost and gone dissolved,
like a tampered crime scene, never involved.
You were warned, tormented by the wrath,
to quit your sick condescending path,
cleansing your vision on the day of Sabbath.
But you were too busy defying the source,
egoistic to apprehend and bend your course,
realizing you won’t last amidst the mighty force.
a last resort as “It is never late to begin”
Evoke your senses, condemn for your sin
nothing else matters, that medal or this win.
For “death” is the elixir you know deep down
your tricks won’t pay off, you ****** clown
your 6 ft pit dug in the wasteland of your town.
Acids seeping in, burning your crippled bone
Rest in peace carved on your fancy gravestone
and yet, inside burns your foul soul alone.
Mar 13, 2018
Mar 13, 2018 at 3:58 PM UTC