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"hypocricy" poems
beats banging the bolts of your brains your mind slumped back with thoughts of genocidal terrorist gangsters polluting your countries veins, rocking lines like no way but did bush rock the planes, and **** did we really give al-Qaeda all that money 6.9 billion **** yeah that sounds pretty funny, but back in the day they were the backed boys in blue fighting off the the red corner for their freedom to be renewed, but that wasn't enough for them reunion of peace lost with the greed of the beast and the hate for the west and the hate for different beliefs, capitalism s bad but not bad enough for lives to be releived or taken, **** bugs me but im not shooting the lead at a different population. and im not conforming to 911 being binladen cause the videos shown give me the impression those attacks were a little more expensive than the planes on the rota, the truth covered up like ill put it under the sofa or they wont notice just tuck it behind the toaster, its not for common knowledge to be a pile of **** out off cnn's rosta does anyone remember Mcintyre whos stated on paper that he beleives the pentagon was hit by something different than whats printed on the usual reporters notepad soo whos the joker? the world needs answers now before this conspiracy is just another late night channel on the tv, or the page on the internet that no one sees xcept the fat man nursing a ***** and a bag of nachos with a little too much additional flavour bread cheese and cereal its all over his bed, forgotten how to live soo hes browsin instead, this mans a lost cause you stay tight to whats in your head and im not guna turn around and say that my rhymes keep your brain feeling alive ive used that space to save you time so you can see the things i see the way the world is lookin at me and this **** keeps my dreams infant and my body just another delinquent, reeling around in this filtered hypocricy with the love and humour on hold till this chapter unfolds
0
Nov 29, 2011
Nov 29, 2011 at 12:59 PM UTC
conspiracy for my theory?
beats banging the bolts of your brains your mind slumped back with thoughts of genocidal terrorist gangsters polluting your countries veins, rocking lines like no way but did bush rock the planes, and **** did we really give al-Qaeda all that money 6.9 billion **** yeah that sounds pretty funny, but back in the day they were the backed boys in blue fighting off the the red corner for their freedom to be renewed, but that wasn't enough for them reunion of peace lost with the greed of the beast and the hate for the west and the hate for different beliefs, capitalism s bad but not bad enough for lives to be releived or taken, **** bugs me but im not shooting the lead at a different population. and im not conforming to 911 being binladen cause the videos shown give me the impression those attacks were a little more expensive than the planes on the rota, the truth covered up like ill put it under the sofa or they wont notice just tuck it behind the toaster, its not for common knowledge to be a pile of **** out off cnn's rosta does anyone remember Mcintyre whos stated on paper that he beleives the pentagon was hit by something different than whats printed on the usual reporters notepad soo whos the joker? the world needs answers now before this conspiracy is just another late night channel on the tv, or the page on the internet that no one sees xcept the fat man nursing a ***** and a bag of nachos with a little too much additional flavour bread cheese and cereal its all over his bed, forgotten how to live soo hes browsin instead, this mans a lost cause you stay tight to whats in your head and im not guna turn around and say that my rhymes keep your brain feeling alive ive used that space to save you time so you can see the things i see the way the world is lookin at me and this **** keeps my dreams infant and my body just another delinquent, reeling around in this filtered hypocricy with the love and humour on hold till this chapter unfolds
Continue reading...
7
Lately I’ve been feeling Like my worries are sky high I’ve tried to conquer mysteries I’ve tried hard not to die Once blinded by the brightness Yet when all I see is black Screaming Frantically Searching.. Trying to find my way back. I see the changes start to blossom Through winter, summer, spring and autumn. So maybe if I close my eyes My Imagination will compromise You see, A wise man once told me that all things must pass.. A wise man once told me that nothing ever lasts. Although, sometimes I wish that I could be a visionary or a queen I’d lead my battles from Dusk to Dawn I crash I burn I still carry on It’s filled with love yet hypocricy And ruled with mediocrity The world should be a better place For laughter, tears of joy and grace Because I’m finding it hard And I can only dream Tomorrow we’ll just make believe Sharing stories under the night sky But tomorrow never comes I wonder why.. ? Some might say its meant to be And when all is said and done I find myself straying on the path, Back where I once begun. Lately I’ve been feeling like my worries are sky high I’ve tried to conquer mysteries I’ve tried hard not to die..
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Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 3:23 PM UTC
Daydreamer
It's the mad saints that interest me, the holy fools of the Divine Mystery. Ikkyu. Ezekiel. Buddha. Jesus. Lao-Tzu. The ones where their lives turn upside down, just because they walk a path against the flow of convention. A holy fool laughs a laughter that cuts through all the ******** and hypocricy. A laughter that rises from the heart, And enters the heart of another like a small spark before a wild fire.
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Feb 15, 2014
Feb 15, 2014 at 2:21 AM UTC
Holy Fools
Do not cry when am gone, You werent there when i was torn, Do not stand around my bed, You never cared when i bled. Do not act like you're in despair, You turned away when i needed your care, Do not lavish money on a bouquet, A little less is all i needed to survive each day. Do not speak about your love for me, Your eloquent speech should have been kind words to me, Do not show up in mass and numbers, One or two earlier visits would have been enough to remember. Do not be extravagant over the box in which i'll be laid If i had the figures, my demise could have been delayed, Do not preach about where i have gone, You the living still has battles to be won.
0
May 30, 2016
May 30, 2016 at 5:08 PM UTC
HYPOCRICY AT WAKE KEEP
So many things in vain. Taking a stop at my house so late. Ready for the break down and I'm sorry. That it's coming. But i won't let it shut me out. If only this one voice i can shout. I swear it'll come to the crowd. I wanna be heard. So i can know im alive. I was birthed. Now it's time to be admired. Chorus Here i am Finding que's to begin. Don't have a clue who I've been Waiting to rid my sin. Sick of stumbling, Trippin. Don't ever listen. Too instuctions. So understand. When i disappear. It's for a reason. And theres no peace in these excuses. Do you hear me? That's the question of this creation, that you made. It's gotta get better than this. Don't let my eyes get tired. Have the wrinkles fade to gray. The way my hair is when i come to the hundreds. Is there more out there. Can we prepare and not scared. Have we feared that salvation ain't coming any moment too soon. Blow some hope in these bones. Plagues of joy needs to whisper to my shadows.  Feel a little off balence. Walking from my absence. Chorus Here i am Finding que's to begin. Don't have a clue who I've been Waiting to rid my sin. Sick of stumbling, Trippin. Don't ever listen. Too instuctions. So understand. When i disappear. It's for a reason. And theres no peace in these excuses. Do you hear me? That's the question of this creation, that you made. THis is me debating existence. Answer it if you can. Give me a hand if you care. As i enter in oblivioun. Are you there. Ready to bring me back to humanity. I've heard im still the loser of the followers. Even when i try to change them the rest who aren't breathing. I get that they say im preachin about things i don't believe in. Forgive me of hypocricy. Chorus Here i am Finding que's to begin. Don't have a clue who I've been Waiting to rid my sin. Sick of stumbling, Trippin. Don't ever listen. Too instuctions. So understand. When i disappear. It's for a reason. And theres no peace in these excuses. Do you hear me? That's the question of this creation, that you made. This is me debating existence. Say i walked away. What if i never did. WHere would i go if this happened. How would fate leade me. 4 | Email this Poem | Generate PDF | Add to reading list
0
Jul 5, 2010
Jul 5, 2010 at 6:49 AM UTC
I lay debating
So many things in vain. Taking a stop at my house so late. Ready for the break down and I'm sorry. That it's coming. But i won't let it shut me out. If only this one voice i can shout. I swear it'll come to the crowd. I wanna be heard. So i can know im alive. I was birthed. Now it's time to be admired. Chorus Here i am Finding que's to begin. Don't have a clue who I've been Waiting to rid my sin. Sick of stumbling, Trippin. Don't ever listen. Too instuctions. So understand. When i disappear. It's for a reason. And theres no peace in these excuses. Do you hear me? That's the question of this creation, that you made. It's gotta get better than this. Don't let my eyes get tired. Have the wrinkles fade to gray. The way my hair is when i come to the hundreds. Is there more out there. Can we prepare and not scared. Have we feared that salvation ain't coming any moment too soon. Blow some hope in these bones. Plagues of joy needs to whisper to my shadows.  Feel a little off balence. Walking from my absence. Chorus Here i am Finding que's to begin. Don't have a clue who I've been Waiting to rid my sin. Sick of stumbling, Trippin. Don't ever listen. Too instuctions. So understand. When i disappear. It's for a reason. And theres no peace in these excuses. Do you hear me? That's the question of this creation, that you made. THis is me debating existence. Answer it if you can. Give me a hand if you care. As i enter in oblivioun. Are you there. Ready to bring me back to humanity. I've heard im still the loser of the followers. Even when i try to change them the rest who aren't breathing. I get that they say im preachin about things i don't believe in. Forgive me of hypocricy. Chorus Here i am Finding que's to begin. Don't have a clue who I've been Waiting to rid my sin. Sick of stumbling, Trippin. Don't ever listen. Too instuctions. So understand. When i disappear. It's for a reason. And theres no peace in these excuses. Do you hear me? That's the question of this creation, that you made. This is me debating existence. Say i walked away. What if i never did. WHere would i go if this happened. How would fate leade me. 4 | Email this Poem | Generate PDF | Add to reading list
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82
Im held to the ground by my imperfections. Dodging bullets thrown by those in need of correction. Understanding that life is filled with much uncertainty, acting only on the knowledge that I am most certainly free. Held to my actions and words by the thought of perfection, being only that which determins selections. Into a realm by which the humble are seeking, gained only by those whose words are worth speaking. Determined by a world whose ear seem cut off and closed, and unwilling to listen to that which they are opposed. But truth can be heard by the hearts of the few, whose minds are filled with possibilities anew. Whos lives are practice in the faith of whats real, but whos minds are not blinded to what true beauty can reveal. Because truth doesnt come through trial and error, truth comes from understanding that we are all rare. Held together by a contract of emotions and deeds, that defines us as a society with real human needs. To be loved and accepted, held and adored. To act on these wishes and hope to find reward. Because when the reaper comes to collect on our debt, we are all going to wish to wake in a cold sweat. To find more presious time, in our running hour glass. To hold on to each grain and not let it pass. Without cherishing the moment and giving it our heart. Without telling those we love, they are a work of art. Painted by the Picaso of the ground that we walk. Whos motives no one will ever unlock. But disagree on forever, untill the end of time we will. And break our human contract with the blood that we spill. Of our bothers and sisters who feel just the same, as the men and women who share our last name. So read me your books and give me your shame. For logic is my shepard for this world i look to tame. For i hold in my heart a truth unknown. One not found in a book or scripture alone. Or known by those who try to speak fear, through a book whose hypocricy is well too clear. One only found when you see a mans true soul, and realize 'that is all i need to know.' To stare at the only perfection this world will ever know, and hold him in the same regards as winters first snow. Or summers true spirit, or falls pure brilliance. Or when the sea meets a rocks true resiliance. Imperfection may hold me firm to the ground, but my spirits true beauty holds no bounds. And when the world can see one another through each others eyes, then humanities posibilities will break all its ties. Will be stripped of its shackles and free of its chains. Will be free of its stife and know no pain. And we as a beautify creation of perfection itself, will finally find peace in oneself.
0
Feb 19, 2012
Feb 19, 2012 at 10:19 PM UTC
Unknown Truth (11/01/10)
Im held to the ground by my imperfections. Dodging bullets thrown by those in need of correction. Understanding that life is filled with much uncertainty, acting only on the knowledge that I am most certainly free. Held to my actions and words by the thought of perfection, being only that which determins selections. Into a realm by which the humble are seeking, gained only by those whose words are worth speaking. Determined by a world whose ear seem cut off and closed, and unwilling to listen to that which they are opposed. But truth can be heard by the hearts of the few, whose minds are filled with possibilities anew. Whos lives are practice in the faith of whats real, but whos minds are not blinded to what true beauty can reveal. Because truth doesnt come through trial and error, truth comes from understanding that we are all rare. Held together by a contract of emotions and deeds, that defines us as a society with real human needs. To be loved and accepted, held and adored. To act on these wishes and hope to find reward. Because when the reaper comes to collect on our debt, we are all going to wish to wake in a cold sweat. To find more presious time, in our running hour glass. To hold on to each grain and not let it pass. Without cherishing the moment and giving it our heart. Without telling those we love, they are a work of art. Painted by the Picaso of the ground that we walk. Whos motives no one will ever unlock. But disagree on forever, untill the end of time we will. And break our human contract with the blood that we spill. Of our bothers and sisters who feel just the same, as the men and women who share our last name. So read me your books and give me your shame. For logic is my shepard for this world i look to tame. For i hold in my heart a truth unknown. One not found in a book or scripture alone. Or known by those who try to speak fear, through a book whose hypocricy is well too clear. One only found when you see a mans true soul, and realize 'that is all i need to know.' To stare at the only perfection this world will ever know, and hold him in the same regards as winters first snow. Or summers true spirit, or falls pure brilliance. Or when the sea meets a rocks true resiliance. Imperfection may hold me firm to the ground, but my spirits true beauty holds no bounds. And when the world can see one another through each others eyes, then humanities posibilities will break all its ties. Will be stripped of its shackles and free of its chains. Will be free of its stife and know no pain. And we as a beautify creation of perfection itself, will finally find peace in oneself.
Continue reading...
1
They gather 'round the mountainous pile it's towering to them it's frightening Books Books Cascades of books Pages upon pages of ideas knowledge They despise these words they hide them in dark corners of their minds Where they do not peer where the tissue paper of their fantasy world barely holds back the truth They've gathered all their fears together in the square covered in gasoline.  The fuel of the righteous. The medium of control and order Now those are words they can get behind. They stand for a moment as if they aren't quite sure if what they're doing is right The moment passes a lone cigarette flips carelessly through the air Bouncing off Twain Rolling past Dickens Before landing on the esteemed Thompson Let there be light, indeed. The heat given off is immense Why wouldn't it be? The fire is burning through ideas A powerful fuel source freedom of thought evaporates with the smoke with the smell of burning paper of burning leather These righteous people These wise people with no emotions but anger and hate are suddenly alive They roll their eyes back into their heads in ecstacy in hypocricy it brings them pleasure to destroy knowledge and replace it with falsehood with lies The pile is smoldering now A hill of dead authors They walk away smiling satisfied satiated It's a tough job, defending the world from free expression from the burden of choice but someone's gotta do it as far as they're concerned it might as well be them
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Dec 28, 2012
Dec 28, 2012 at 6:17 PM UTC
Biblioclasm
aint neva gonna come this way again aint neva gonna  Do  it like i did in the open or well hid lookin bout the same words they truth....... words they lie people live if the lie finally forever dies hypocricy keeps death alive specially behind a smile neva gonna simply say that fear can make a person do some things they wouldn't do if their sight was clear an try help wipe them tears away its too easy to be the fake too easy to mess with me AN NOW I'M FEELIN SORRY FOR MYSELF! OF ALL THE GOL'  DERN WAYS TO BE!!! words they truth....... words they lie people live if the lie finally forever dies hypocricy keeps death alive specially behind a smile love love love an then love love love all over again beyond the sorrow an the pain when all is gone then what remains love love love an then love love love all over again beyond the horror of raw shame when all is gone then what remains love love love an then love love love all over again love love love all over again love love love all over again
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Jul 22, 2010
Jul 22, 2010 at 4:57 PM UTC
love song in b flat major
dark avenues and yet the dawn too... (....dark truths) we know WAR is a comin in and there aint a "thing to do" and it will only get darker and darker -- dark avenues and yet we are still pure and perfect in our lovliness we remember dawn, too we remember eachother and love, too as true -- the WAR shall wear us down but we shall not yield our soul to hypocricy no we know the dawn is always "here" and we, too we, too
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Oct 14, 2010
Oct 14, 2010 at 11:16 AM UTC
dark avenues
and as this day does reveal just a hint of "this" and a touch of "that" and as little children we percieve our lord as "saviour" or "protector" (whate'er we can afford!) still there are the children "yet unborn" still there is "Responsibility" (as still there is "Hypocricy") as still there is both you and I and those who shall live and those who shall die those who don't care and those who wonder why human beings have given up their humanity THERE SHALL BE A "FLASH OF LIGHT" enlightenment or the H-bomb type
0
Jul 20, 2010
Jul 20, 2010 at 10:35 AM UTC
hello again poetry
Lately I’ve been feeling Like my worries are sky high I’ve tried to conquer mysteries I’ve tried hard not to die Once blinded by the brightness Yet when all I see is black Screaming Frantically Searching.. Trying to find my way back. I still carry on It’s filled with love yet hypocricy And ruled with mediocrity
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Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 6:36 AM UTC
Fiction of An Ex Lover.
I am an angel in disguise, The reason for the vice, I am the fear at the hallway, I am the accidents at midday, I am the terror in kids dreams, I am the reason why they scream, I am the uncertainty in your choices, I am the million lying voices, I am the woes of the people, I am the persistent evil, I am the hate in your heart, I am the one who tears apart, I am the lust in your mind, I am the fortune you cant find, I am the angel of the night, I am the serpent that must bite, I am the hypocricy in your actions, I am the encourager of mixed reactions, I am the one who takes your peace, I am the one who gives you disease, I am the blood sacrifice, I am your lover's sudden demise, I am the enemy of the the saint, I am the reason why you faint, I am your slumber and your sleep, I am the reason why nations weep, I am the killer of your friends, I am the reason why the zealous bends, I am the giver of deadly missions, I am your refusal to righteous submissions, I am the ****** in the cities, I am the unsolved conspiracies, I am the injustice your government, I am their wicked covenant, I am the father of liars, I am your reckless desires, I am but not the I AM, i am here to cause you harm. But i shall not succeed, Because my end is guarantteed. Refuse me therefore, And be free evermore.
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Aug 29, 2016
Aug 29, 2016 at 7:44 AM UTC
EL DIABLO
Trapped in a burning building with nowhere to go. The smoke of hypocricy fills my lungs and seeps into my fragile bones. Panic and anxiety cloud my judgement and addle my mind with my darkest fears. My mouth works faster than my brain keeping up with the steady stream of lies that pour out of it. Deception is the only protection I have from the flames of the judgemental. Fantasy anchors me to this world and keeps my soul from burning. I'm burnt and broken in too many ways to describe. In too many places to heal. After many years of the unending, self-fueling fire of my insecurites I've come to know the cold, the winter. Finally I'm numb. No more feelings, no more fighting. I'm fire damaged.
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Feb 22, 2014
Feb 22, 2014 at 7:19 AM UTC
Fire Damage
The hypocricy of democracy is democracy
0
Apr 20, 2016
Apr 20, 2016 at 5:46 PM UTC
justice
O Self! Why feel thus conflicted? Hast thou such hypocricy To consider thyself outside the predicted? O thou ego of utter aristocracy... O Self-righteous self in me Blinded art thou so intense? What extent thou can't see Your anger makes no sense! O my, my, my... EGO... What makes it so different for you? Accusations of attrosity, wrong and woe Yet the very same thing, you yourself do! An adaptable morality indeed Ethics subject to personal need...
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Jul 5, 2020
Jul 5, 2020 at 7:43 PM UTC
Simple Self-Sonet
Here goes the epic plot of most dramas The unending dislike towards a man They think not suitable for their precious daughter As if they hold his fate Or that they are a royal like Your Highness The hypocricy is endless Belittling a man's ability Like they knew exactly how he would fail in the future But the only thing they did was crush his pride That surely would be his strength to go on And succeed in life If only to make them see How wrong they were to assess him as a man To step on his worth as a human Just because he loved their daughter Now I saw myself back then When you were being denied To pursue our dreams of getting together I suffered as you suffered And the only thing left for us to do Was to let go. **** this drama plot of a romance Which depicts reality in a cruel way Letting love witness broken wings Making young hearts ****** in pain I want to hurl something at my tv It is a mockery of my past A deep etched pain that has yet to be healed And i wonder.. Will it ever be. My very own life's drama.
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Jun 5, 2018
Jun 5, 2018 at 9:39 PM UTC
Life's Drama
(PRIAM PEARE) Antipathy sawn upon thy visage, Shackled in violent phrase; For thy identity disqualified masterpiece. “I'm a peasant in society.” (AURELIA BORÉALIS) Deprived to let liberty roam on their entirety, Diminishments were bestowed upon them by the sky and galaxies, Intoxication of their hypocricy killed their dignity, Lifeless and despaired—still awaits for the longed equality.
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Jan 21, 2019
Jan 21, 2019 at 1:48 AM UTC
The Wreckage Identity of Mankind in Society
( ) ( ) ( \/ /\ / \ %%%%%%%%%%%% this is a picture of a tepee with smoke coming out the top of it It is the symbol for something •• •• •• oh yes The Brazen World //// We often talk about it As we describe Our search for OUR ONE TRUE LOVE •• Amid our Suicidal images of despair //// such hints ! We talk of fragments of truthfulness left here and there • We talk of the lives we've torn to shreds •• The messages /// The smoke pours forth •• Even god don't care no more With all our bold hypocricy
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Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 4:45 PM UTC
my love is like ..... something // but it is what it is
On the land of God Starts a great war For Supremacy of democracy May there be end of hypocricy What can be tender than Crown of flowers Sword of flowers Attacks of words Like that of Shashi Tharoor If public approve It will be a landmark move Let's wait till 23 rd May Till then our good wishes stay.
0
Apr 4, 2019
Apr 4, 2019 at 5:32 AM UTC
Outlandish headgear