"illusional" poems
.
I stare down at the plate of toast and beans
wondering why this was never part of my dreams.
Looking for the future with an illusional pretence,
hoping good apples will fall on my side of the fence.
And as the fork dances slow
around the legumes in spirals,
the tedium of a wasting life
bears the burden and scars
of missed opportunities in paralysis
and the colour of once bright lights
glow black,
shining a shadow into the void
covering the bruises
that were once achievements of worth,
now tender patches
of failure.
I drop the fork ...
… pushing away the plate and leaving food uneaten,
my desire for its nutrition fought and beaten,
Looking at the apple tree with sombre regret
maybe its fruit will fall and save me yet.
And disappointment
is worse than anger,
it begins with the stench of loss
the nasal whiff of
what if …
And what if the little apple tree
drops all its fruit down to me?
Would I recognise fortune on my side
or fear the illusions and run to hide?
© Pagan Paul (17/02/18)
May 14, 2019
May 14, 2019 at 5:09 PM UTC
*Dances the universe in illusional darkness
Recreates light his third eye
Awakes shiva from his celestial slumber*
Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 2:57 PM UTC
The glass of wine spins on sins
Encircling the royal roulette
All rotating on a hamster wheel
Pinned on canvas and illusional walls
So tiny in errors and unbalanced books
Unaccounted annotated distributions
Twisting hands on colluded coils
Deeper projections from the heart
An eruption of the social notions
Extracted on the paradise of life
For no truth echoes authenticity
Eccentrically finding a lived reality
Plato symposiums and simulacrums
Pavlov trails of social conditioning
Sampled in tented objectifications
Functioning within the invisible rules
We sniffle as we expose the false actuality
Reactive explosions from robust heat
Unloaded rods dancing under the moon
In our tenderness rejecting the paradigm
Mar 4, 2016
Mar 4, 2016 at 1:03 PM UTC
The sea is the land's edge also..."
--T. S. Eliot
It's a sand-castle in morning tide
slowly constructed
for the first time; and the horizon
sea-blue, distinctly separated from sky-blue
with a razor fine-line
liquid running steadily
into time.
I saw a small boy, ankle deep
in steaming sand
building illusional dreams of
Kings and Queens and Knights
because he can
do anything he wants,
while dolphins dive and dance
in the sunrise crystal morning
with his tiny, growing hands...
And when the seagulls circle by,
above hearty, browning palm trees,
eating as they please,
the kiss of water hits the shore
invoking a magnificent mystery music
just before
I
realize as certain memories arise,
that beyond this circumstance
lies connectedness,
an ****** wavering consequence,
leaving me to forsake
alone
ness:
When I wander along this temporal shore,
flying, sometimes falling
through these storms:
like the sea I am in many ways
so sometimes slowly dying
without pain,
and in a certain collectiveness, she reaches
forth her foamy hand,
blistering my cheeks in colours crimson, sweet,
erasing that child's castle
in the sand.
Jun 2, 2010
Jun 2, 2010 at 2:05 AM UTC
friends can be there at 1 minute and gone the next....
they are a figment of our imagination a tiny little speck.
its kind of hard to tell if your friends like you or not.
they will remember you when you reach the top.
they put you down but you still don't stop
wounded by back stabbings from the past
it seems like just happen so fast.
middle school homies telling each other we gone ride or die
but now we cant trust them and it isn't the truth its all just a lie
despite all of that im just gone watch my back
but until then we just gone leave it at that............................
Mar 7, 2010
Mar 7, 2010 at 10:04 PM UTC
Don't let your voice rise above a whisper,
Let's leave and never come back;
We can go and live in a beautiful world,
We'll be happy forever together.
Let's go far and beyond the pressure cooker
Of expectations and apprehension,
Let's go live a life more happier and merrier
Far away from impossibility.
Let's go to a place where no one can find
A trace of who we are,
In the mist of the hills of Shimla
Or the New Delhi Bazaars.
Why do we need artificial people
When we love each other dearly,
I'd hold you closer than I ever did before
And you'd never slip away.
Let's not make a sound as we leave
This fake and illusional world,
For the noise that we hear is make-believe,
But we can never be sure.
Let's just leave with what we have
And never come back,
Let's wave goodbye to this illusional world
And never look back.
Dec 2, 2016
Dec 2, 2016 at 4:41 AM UTC
i have so much love in me and around me
it is impossible to bathe in anything else like
a ****** resentment or an unlimited reservation of sadness
even though those sicknesses are okay and are always curable,
i feel too alive and sure of myself to cough up a loogie of ill-peace
how can I not be okay - right now?
is there a way to prove myself otherwise?
always - we are
HERE
and nowhere else
if only we'd just take a step back and take a look at the illusions
of past or future we've been rolling around in
those are just stories!
and the essence of who we are is not replicated from any external judgement
because a judgement is just another illusional story
that pries into our belief that we will not make it through another day.
but you can, and i can
and you deserve love and i deserve love
and if you take a step back and really look at where you are,
you will see that
you are okay right now too.
Sep 3, 2012
Sep 3, 2012 at 8:23 AM UTC
Well Perhaps Mary will come to me.
Perhaps her skin will melt so close to mine that I will feel her sorrow,
And I will feel the ongoing agony that grips her heart and torments her mind.
Perhaps I will feel the coldness of the shadows that she casts under the burning light that he attempts to enlighten her with,
Perhaps she will whisper the screams of her life and fill me with her surrender.
And I will see through her aged eyes and feel her hollow damp cheeks.
Perhaps I will lay down with her and see her dreams unfold in burning skies and hear her longing voice call out to him,
Perhaps the air will become too thin and through choking sobs she will wait for the moment that never comes.
And I will feel her immortalised blue tears run down run down my face and feel her worn hair on my shoulders.
Then she will be gone.
And just leave the lingering smell of broken beauty as my heart dawns and the silence whispers across my skin.
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 9:16 PM UTC
Dulcet melodies came up
From the basement, day and night
The rhythm that fractured silence apart
And rained in my life prettily like rose petals
In the falling of the spring
Her tinny fingers danced gentle on these piano keys
Serenading my soul, laid at peace with thee
She called this place the heart of her serenity
With love she kept it warm and dignified
Sometime ago she went out for draughts. And driven away by illusional views
Perhaps down on the sea promenade, something attractive
Held her hypnotized and possessed
Ever since she left, only silence sings from the basement
She left indelible marks and love notes around the walls, and
No soloist ever bothers to go down there
And stay longer, perhaps, because of her luggage all over the room
And I’m afraid of disposal, if she may come back home
Or emptiness could be too much to handle either
My heart has become, but just an isolated confined basement
Full of gloomy memories, ever since you’ve been gone
It is quiet with sadness down here without you, and
No soloist ever bothers to come and stay longer
Jul 28, 2016
Jul 28, 2016 at 4:36 AM UTC
A girl who is lonesome on a regular basis, isn't based upon their own choice... But by their own desire to hold an identity bear without regulating (properly) the reasons as to why or how too essentially fix them?? Someone would say they aren't both comfortable and doesn't want to live this type of life... Except, they do, and they are very good at it. Do you not seriously think they aren't truly comfortable with it...?! Because by how I've gotten to know them, they seem entirely thrilled by this very aspect upon the features that drown them in sorrowful lust or delusional ecstasy for the illusional better!
Don't make me laugh.... You seriously think she "would" be comfortable with ANY of this...? WELLL.... DO YOU???!!! NO...! She simply... DOESN'T! And I wouldn't, either. Because I know what it's like to live in something that has tormented me right down to my very component cells. (Not truly knowing how to regulate the emotions that run those very component cells...DRY!) Something that ricochets the exposure over an entire even playing field that's become too GREATLY ODD! For something that doesn't make sense, doesn't also have too be the permanent source of lifestyle one has become standard upon (the now very normalized lifecycle of this very way of life itself).
So, what happens when someone who is lonesome and who's seemingly lost...while also supposedly meant too be good at it, simultaneously...? Well...isn't it obvious by now...?
"A lonesome girl who's good at being alone".....
Sep 24, 2020
Sep 24, 2020 at 9:56 PM UTC
I buried the star so far as I assumed it’s dead
My heart turns into shadows of dread
My mind is eating stale bread
Putrid flesh, a cold mess
Depressed
Illusional thoughts perceptional disease it brought
Nothing but endless drought
A part of me has died and the other is alive
The dead and the living
survive
I cried and I tried
the might I must master to hold-on tight
but I lost my grip and fall into a trip
deep within the hallows of my demons
© Pax
Jun 10, 2013
Jun 10, 2013 at 11:27 AM UTC
Do you find yourself wandering through the desert of life
Searching for an oasis of truth
A safe place to stop and rest for a while
To gather enough strength to carry you through
Do you find hope, in this middle of nowhere
Or do you let the ache eat you every step you take?
Can you smile, when even though you remember,
the wounds you created by your own,
on the beautiful surface of your skin?
Are you capable to hold the tears back,
from streaming down,
when all you feel is the heavy weight in you chest,
scaring your heart,
at every beat of it?
When off in the distance you see what appears to be
A mirage of your own making
You take out your scared heart before it falls apart
And head in that direction for safety
But alas, it's just an illusion
A figment of imagination in your mind
What you thought of as paradise
Was the reality of the times
My heart isn't as cold,
My soul isn't as dark,
Now that I feel belonged,
to this paradise,
I only feel infinite
Dec 7, 2013
Dec 7, 2013 at 5:24 PM UTC
My past is seeking me out again
The stupidity of my past ignorance and sin
We'd stay up all night and speak of places we would roam
He moved me far away from home
He moved me away from family and friends
I didn't relize my future was growing dim
I was in love, he kept his demons well hid
If I'd just known some of the things he had did
I soon was pregnant, unable to defend
That's when the beatings begin
I would of ran but there was no where to go
So far from home with a young one in tow
My illusional happy family dissolved
A happy future from me is STILL getting robed
This drunken alcoholic fool
Was particularly cruel
Daily beatings a must
Hands around my throat in disgust
Have him arrested, out the next day
"Boy, ***** will you pay"
Years go by and three children latter
Things are much worse the punishment greater
Can't leave him now, know for a fact he will **** me
He'd bury my body deep, he'd never set me free
Then he would be raising my kids, a terrifying thought
And all of my suffering would of been for naught
One drunken and now cracked up night
He told me to go and I took flight
Raised four kinds on my own
Over 17 year and every 2 or 3 years always making his presence known
He can fill my heart with fear
I seen him today he's in my town..........his near
Mar 19, 2016
Mar 19, 2016 at 7:48 PM UTC
Illusional layers
Of Religions
Society
Tradition
Culture
Made by
Human
Love
Is
Prisoned
I broke
All
These
For love
©sobbingsoul
Jan 20, 2019
Jan 20, 2019 at 7:55 PM UTC
Life's most precious gift:
To live, we have to just breathe
But there're thoughts beyond thoughts,
Trapped in a realm, yearning to be freed:
If we hold this breathe seize,
We shall seize to live, but leave
But sometimes, to actually live, we have to leave
There's a thin line between sanity and insanity
Erased by our unsay
There's a thin line between Illusion and reality
Erased by our don'ts
This place of gracious enticement
Where we watch us being killed
A place filled with men of slightest thoughts
Amused by this illusional amusement
A place where nothing is real
Full of dos and don'ts, yet no one is free
Though we all came with says and dos
We've not by ourselves chosen to be free
We've trapped all those for the sake of our creed
Why then not hold this breathe seize to actually live
For stance where our thoughts could not reach
For life in a place we've never seen
A place where we're actually free
Why don't we leave to actually live?
—JIBRIL ABDULMALIK ©2019
Apr 19, 2019
Apr 19, 2019 at 2:42 PM UTC
Am I living from a place of
blind fear or abundant love?
What messages are coming through-
from the endless Kingdom above?
Daily I endeavor to live,
the life I have imagined;
will my dreams be realized?
Will my future be fashioned?
Is my faith more than
an illusional contrivance?
What am I doing wrong,
since I’m wanting guidance?
The infinity of my soul
continues to slowly unfold;
will the value of my being,
be weighed as purified gold?
Bridge
Am I afraid of failure or
the possibilities of success?
Can I overcome the fear
of not passing Life’s test?
Tapestries of my life are
based on choices I’ve made;
yet successes only occurred-
after taking time to pray.
Chorus
I desire quantum moments
that give meaning to me;
what else can I really do,
so I may now… clearly see?
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
On a Dr. Wayne Dyer program called: ‘I Can See Clearly Now’.
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2014, All rights reserved.
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 12:03 PM UTC
The wheels of time spins in my direction knocking me off my feet
telling me I need to yield for it is my master. Time the illusional master captures me, casting shadows on my mind, body and heart.
imprisoning my thoughts and emotions with promises to sooth my pain
Sep 24, 2019
Sep 24, 2019 at 11:56 AM UTC
Let Me be...
Memories I do not to see.
Locked away, it holds no Key.
Have them Fade from History.
Things, I often see.
Creations of Forbidden Keys.
Awakening Ancient Memories.
Reliving Illusional History...
Feb 14, 2014
Feb 14, 2014 at 5:06 PM UTC
What if the world was full of you
Would you have conversations with yourself
Do you think it would be easier
Would you think it would get boring
ask yourself
The reason everyone is different
So we can come together as one
So we can conversate
We get hurt to learn from our mistakes
We find love within the heart
Not the mind
You mind can be illusional sometimes
Once you over come
Mind will protect your heart
You can do anything you set your mind to
Never quit because
You will get the same outcome as last time you quit
No this isn't for all
My words are small
But my heart is large
My mind is gaining wisdom with every day that passes
May 13, 2013
May 13, 2013 at 1:37 PM UTC
heart rate at 23 beats per minute.
people pacing, patients fading,
and i take my sweet time, not grieving in it.
called to cut, scalpel in hand;
sliding through their skin
at my own command.
mindless and ignoring
the moans and groans
between the man’s snoring
and the chill in his bones.
and as i intervened within his dreams
there came a scream from he
and a thrill within my bloodstream.
“pain”.
pain is an illusion.
an illusional delusion.
i’ve heard complaints
of pain from punches
but i tell you,
these pleas for ease
are false yet i
answer to them to appease.
you must not be so quick to judge
my sanity or insanity
or lack of grievances for calamities.
i swear to you,
i am not ill,
nor do i crave to ****
and though you’d think that
from the way i behave,
it is not com-plex,
not con-vex nor con-cave.
my sole purpose,
i believe so,
is to serve others
by easing their “pain”.
do not underestimate me,
nor the amount
of lives i’ve “saved”.
i am telling you
of a true story
from the perspective of myself
ten years time ago.
this was when i,
for once,
had a twinkle in my eye.
i run the midnight shift
and spend most of my free time
with the patient in room 46.
i lay in bed beside him
and together we dream.
with our hands intertwined,
we dream that the stars align,
and i wish for patient 46 to be fine.
as i fill patient 46’s lungs with air,
he fills mine with a kind of
sensation no one could ever replace
and though i will never be able to
accurately describe it,
i wish the feeling will never go away.
rapid response team.
running.
i’m running,
reaching for my dream.
patient 46 is running (out of time),
reaching for the heaven’s gleam.
51 beats…28…9…flatline.
patient 46 dead on january 23 at 23:59.
“pain”
pain is an illusion,
an illusional delusion.
i’ve heard complaints
of pain from punches
but i tell you,
these pleas for ease
are nothing
compared to love’s disease.
Nov 2, 2017
Nov 2, 2017 at 8:57 PM UTC
*a kind of addiction, a slow kind of dying
but a suicide wrapped in love and hope
powerful enough to blind your eyes
is certain not easy to ****
so hands high for the not coming reward
somewhere knowing it all, deep
we drew an unreachable line again
the inner voice simply won't let us see
ourselves, when it was all we really needed
on a honest night the darkness became oh so clear
we, decided to beat our illusional selves
now only stare at the broken mirror on the floor
realize the almighty changed into an insect
and the night into the day
this morning a new sunrise is born*
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 8:02 PM UTC
you know those feelings, the ones you can not explain? mine are illusional, they manipulate my brain. there are voices inside of my head that are not me, they are leading me under where I can never be set free. I am terrified of who I am becoming, but you see I am so in love with how you are to me. I am too deeply lost inside of my head, and tonight is another night I will lose it in this bed. I do not have the strength to speak, I guess you can say I have became a total freak. It is difficult to pay attention to the reality of my life, I would rather feel the kind of pain that occurs from a knife. my personality has became shaken, and for thinking I may be enough I know I am probably mistaken. I am afraid that I am falling, there is something wrong inside of me calling. I am stuck inside of a mindset that cannot be understood, and I am fully aware that it is because of all these substances I have took.
Sep 17, 2015
Sep 17, 2015 at 10:04 PM UTC
Illusional, delusional
My mind is confused
Rejection, refusal
My veins are infused
Cursed, accused
My heart is bleeding
Used, abused
My soul is pleading
The uncertainty of thirst
Of a beast slowly slithering
Dressed in a robe like a priest
Torn wrecking and withering
Face of a known God
Heart of a powerful demon
It's life secured in a black cord
Stringed chilies and sour lemon
Preying on the innocent souls
It's lust forever brewing
Feeding on the mine coals
Always aims for higher viewing
Must one be a godly knight
Born to end this, once and for all
For the serpent searches in the night
To whoever answers its call...
©sim
Sep 6, 2017
Sep 6, 2017 at 10:39 PM UTC