"illusioned" poems
*Elusive moon beckons dark currents,
sand's sparkling pageantry
drifts out midst frothing tide,
submerging lover's imprints 'neath
the realm of alluring seascape illusions*
Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 9:50 AM UTC
Standing here
I stood my ground
floating
closer
than the distance
Further
than ‘ahead’ I saw
me
fighting for resistance
Fast
unmoving
– not alone –
with only me
I stayed
Fumbling
– screaming loud –
to hear it:
. . . silence . . .
yet I disobeyed
Cocooned in air and
muffled
by these fitful gulps
I dared not breathe I
marked out time
in vacant space
I owned – yet
not yet: not for me
Thinking hard
I cleared my mind
– illusioned, lost –
yet
memories traced
Would I
(should not) leave
I’d try
The where?
Just ‘some’
to
ANY place
Jul 10, 2015
Jul 10, 2015 at 7:15 PM UTC
I hope nobody trusts you again
like I did you
I pray you never hurt another person
like you did me
You carved into my soul
And have taken peices
They will never grow back
Dont ever say that you want to help
because you will just hurt again
you will destroy
and you will ******
This is the perfect story
for a broken heart
you made me feel good
and I just dont understand
how you killed me
I told you everything
and you continued to destroy what was left
and turned me into this
a grumpy
unwanted
suicidal being
Who you illusioned
believing all was good
while you tore me apart
and extracted my heart
I hope you never have somebody
like I thought I had in you
I hope you get what I got in you
because your time is due
you earned that
I hope nobody trusts you
because you will hurt them too
You will tell them what they need
and when its time for you to work
you will never be there
Give us that fake smile
the one that used to push the clouds away
but I know now
that the tornado is coming our way
you make things seem okay
seem liveable
just to gain your unholy power
Hurt is a childs dream
compared to this terror
I have lost all hope
you told me you will help
the only thing you helped
is to ****
Never talk to me again
I cannot bare your lies
Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 1:35 PM UTC
They dart with illusioned purpose,
I alone, am distant and far.
They speak on trivial affairs,
I alone, speak not of the obvious.
They delude intelligence,
I alone, can say no more.
What it is I feel,
Never could be construed.
I can offer no consolation
for those tied and unwilling.
This blind expansion of
unnamable multiverse
weighs heavy, might I say.
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 11:55 AM UTC
Empowered Manager, your Rules beknown
I'd rather you Teach how we must Behave
Or, filter these Concepts to his Reknown
And coat this Script for his role as a Knave
So what's new? Long does this Method wear
For the Centred Market your Profits invest
Though, we Illusioned, squeeze each dareful tear
Close his Next-Door Gates for an Open Contest
To be Fair, dear Sir, if we can afford
To pay for that trite, unsubstantial fee
I suppose his Skill to waters accord
Reward by Harvest; A Hero as he.
So yes I'm aware for such tweets I send
Were not his eyes for your mouth he'll depend.
Mar 15, 2013
Mar 15, 2013 at 3:29 AM UTC
Are we really in Love?
Or
Are we in love
With the illusion
Of what we could be?
Mar 3, 2018
Mar 3, 2018 at 8:57 PM UTC
The sun
gold and radiant,
The boy
shy and ambitious,
the warmth
that shone brightly,
grew weary as man took flight
the tower,
an illusioned prison,
held onto the yearning soul tightly
the god
that loved mighty,
the echoing of the lover silenced
the lover
a tragedy himself,
calling out to the gold fiend,
the fiend
that mourned nightly,
the golden star shined not bright
the tragedy
lost beneath blue,
mourning the fiend and himself
Dec 24, 2018
Dec 24, 2018 at 11:40 AM UTC
What is hoped trickling between
splintered crags of hard matter
as between slabs of sliced I
like water through the desert crust
the beginning-end fusioned whole?
it resplendent through the cracks?
What might be enough
for its time being
might be the first loosening
a knot’s dissolution
beginning
unwrapping light and breath
deep underground
after prying like suffocation
the thing loose, never budged,
still you yanked, pulled,
screamed, spumed, more than
frustration through your fingertips.
For the brain, don’t be fooled,
s’more the psychedelic fruit
than just saying apple computer
the pulpous embryo of imagination
feeding
what seed, sprouting tendrils,
protracts without desire
(but causing desire)
ever outward, growing, clasping,
(hinging on unhinging) meshing
an electric net
and collapsing a shock they say
until the taste of its taste
is so succulently pungent
that after hours of dull mumbling
its projection upon the mirrors
it bursts in puffs of screams
short tense contractions
[image fizzing, over-heating].
Like a cracked computer reading
an animal program: *Alpha Beast
of the Ill-Illusioned*. Or: *Runt Wolf
of Gaia, the Undarwinian Survivor*.
Software ones and zeros digitizing
the command:
Must do the act cannot be done.
Till it breaks. Unimagined.
Mar 27, 2012
Mar 27, 2012 at 8:11 PM UTC
If I ever get where I want to be,
I'd like to be forgotten,
To never be recognized;
To just exist without an existence...
So that I can feel alive where I stand
With every breath, sound, touch;
So that I can witness the world
In all it's entirety
Without standing behind a screen of an identity...
To taste the colors with my eyes
And appreciate the eternity of the world
Without a barrier of an illusioned existence--
*For I won't exist any more,
And all barriers would, therefore, have been forfeit..*
Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 1:15 PM UTC
Alas, is there truly no excuse for me?
(sonnet #MMMMMMCMXVIII)
Take icy cloth's embroidered linen's sense
Of April's warmth to task for darts, as hale
Pink butterflies weave paths to yonder's bail,
And what is stylish now is red, deep hence
With snappy blue in patterns I've tossed thence
Aside as "not my taste," and oh! t'avail
How Valentines' tricks out most ads' detail
With hearts in tow, where I've none in defense.
Remember how our heavy kissing's tour
Of things I'd never tasted, left me too
Far Dis-illusioned in betrayl, as poor
As all that, and I miss the violets dew
In silver droplets used to kiss as twere.
So flowrs are knit on linen while none woo.
01Feb18b
Feb 10, 2018
Feb 10, 2018 at 10:11 PM UTC
Don't cry,cry the poor Indians
Don't ask,ask anything,for
You will be certainly hand-cuffed, and
Then, put in jail,put in jail.
Planned by ill-will misled we are
Misruled,oh! friend patriotic.
Cricket is rickets on nation's body
Youth is illusioned to spoil India.
Let Lord Krishna dance again upon
Hoods of snakes polluting life source.
Not our vote for note-bundles
Vote for chosen future splendid.
May 18, 2012
May 18, 2012 at 1:42 AM UTC
A black man souled me my religion with his silhouetted blues and glit'ring worlds
Carved my faith with an old fashioned mic and tilted cap
I was a product of societies blue eyes and blonde hair
Trapped behind the funeral veil being poured into our rivers from the polluted pipes of reality
I watched God's eye as they scanned the deserted souls of our landscape
Wept floods of sorrow through our illusioned damns of hope
Leaving us alone to tend to the graveyard of our dreams
Questioning the mimicing raven, that can only give the answers we never wanted to hear. . .
But crying would be fruitless if we could see what's coming
Like fishing in the mutated waters of society
Shocking, but expected
Then again leaving the hook and closing the window would just make us irresponsible
So we slip into the sleeping game of time, sliding under the covers of trust
Hoping to find a shield from the boogie man in the sheets
Only to find that the boogie man rest here too
Puts good night kisses in the pillow cases to poison my dreams
And along with these realizations comes the drying of my faith in the old fashioned mic and tilted cap
Because the black man that souled me my religion forgot to mention that all that glitters, is not gold
Aug 22, 2010
Aug 22, 2010 at 5:40 PM UTC
swirling clouds of exhaustion wrapping themselves around my brain, colored ever so closely to those of funeral shrouds. i inhale fumes & hold them in my ribcage, hoping for cancers to form, praying for a physicality to the sickness in me, for a tumor i can point to: "there!" i would say, "this is where i hurt." but my cells only hold my bad memories as fibrous proteins. they clutch condescending looks & carry them in the illusioned hope they will motivate me forward: to prove them wrong, to rise above the insults, to use the weight they hold to propel myself further. instead, I sink beyond previously charted depths. my toes know the silt of a sandy bottom (rocks so broken apart they aren't even considered pebbles anymore; insignificant alone & incomparable heartaches uncounted or uncountable together). i anchor myself in this remorse, this hurt i can't point to. i yearn for selfish suicides & scoff at salvation.
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 3:58 PM UTC
"Don't leave any marks," she says
as I nip playfully at her neck;
"It's unprofessional," she mutters
while squirming from the waltz of my lips,
and at the dance of my fingertips;
everything was electric
and it was great,
truly breathtaking-
at the time-
but that time-
has passed;
sacrificed;
killed.
If only One
so edified, dark, and **** in Her ways
would grace me with Her Time and Temple;
whilst true to Herself
upon Her unfolding Path,
that I may also be true to my Self
upon my unfolding Path.
Truly, that would be
a Dream come true
and the Moon would stop
and stand still for us.
Though,
think not that I seek merely a toy,
that I want someone for mere fun;
this is not a question of mere Lust:
I want Love.
I want to feel Love.
Truest of Love;
Metaphysically,
as well as
physically;
I
want
someone
who would make it seem
as if the Moon stands still for us;
Alas, though a gleam,
it doth indeed seem
to be merely a Dream
within illusioned Dream
-__-_-__-_-__-_-__-_-__-_-__-_-__-_-__-
Aug 26, 2013
Aug 26, 2013 at 4:56 AM UTC
A thick foam barrier blocks us all,
from a scene of,
illusioned perfect
something we all strive for.
But few achieve.
I want it,
I need it,
I can taste it,
feel it.
I stick a hand in,
a foot.
***** like quicksand.
But I try
"It's so close"
"Just a step away."
Hear happy, twinkling voices
on the up side.
But
too afraid
to put my head in first.
Too afraid
I will not be able
to breathe.
So close to the border,
we all live.
But not quite in.
No--I will not be passive, content with such a life!
So I take a breath,
and dive in.
Headfirst.
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 8:22 PM UTC
When i first said yes, i had butterflies in my stomach,
i had streams flowing in my belly,my mind captured
with words to paint my love for you.
at first i did not know...yet from you i learnt.
you loved me to love, embraced me to embrace and smiled
at me so that i can smile back.
When i was only a bird trapped in my fears, u patted my feathers,
you placed me on the palm of your hands, encourged me to fly.
When i would smudge lipstick on my chin, you wiped it
not as a spot but as just a deflection to my God given beauty.
i would then listen to you in my heart every second as if you were
pacing with my heart beat, i walked on streets with confidence
because i was sure of you by my side, as if you walked with me.
you would swear i was illusioned,who cared?.
i loved beyond my ability to love you. i loved till you were no more.
How then does a day become life, when everyday you appear
as one i once knew. All laughs i ever pulled,just echoes
of the time that was. You walk as if we never were,dreamt nightmares.
in agony i still love, from a distance i still love,
in your absence i love you more, in your presence
its out of control.
despite all you made me rise, how i wish i can soar with you once more.
May 19, 2010
May 19, 2010 at 3:08 PM UTC
Wind, weather, and gain
Closure, vision, pain
Blood, intrusion, rain
All of them
Collect to connect
for intersecting
that leads to dissecting
of those thought provoking situations
that wind up choking
their creations
And God! I can't stand it
So let me expand
Let you understand
We have been gifted with elements
and our elemental understanding is that the basics are not good
not enough
not for us
Not when we have pried open vaults that are not our own -
to follow a nightmare
illusioned as a dream with wings
but we loosened the seams
and now we sing
of a broken thing; the noise
doesn't quite drown the screams
And we're losing
On this planet
! And the broken, they were born
In view of world still torn, forlorn
They've met scorn
as intrusive bodies situate themselves in a momentum
that doesn't require their skills
And the monster roams free
as the people cry "help"
in this place of mine
because they see
The response is a little too late.
We let the quiet soothe
And don't have to choose
When the rain chains their fate
and washes away
the entire State
I've been told: "You're gifts and talents are enough"
But it's never enough
and tear drops will roll
I'm begging for love to brush this soul
and sometimes I wonder who's in control
And I panic
Feb 2, 2014
Feb 2, 2014 at 1:17 PM UTC
some love starts fiery red
burn furiously
no end in sight
illusioned feeling of safety
the fire cannot ever burn out
but all fires die eventually
leaving scorched earth, surroundings devastated
some love start slow
patients lots and lots of patients needed
but over time the shrub starts to grow
soon when no one is watching
a gorgeous massive strong tree stand
tall green with endless potential
even if it dies of old age it will give life to whats left behind
the cycle of life continues
then there is the love god blessed you with
you cant choose, you always love them but not always get along
you don't always like each others, but always love
they say this crawls where water don't run
i choose the one that adds over time slowly
never subtracting just multiplying
Oct 6, 2013
Oct 6, 2013 at 12:14 PM UTC
We are all forever trapped in a prison of our own making. Hands tied and ankles heavy, there lie circlets where the kiss of our patient executioner's lips have left the skin stained red. It matters little, the poisoned despairing prisoner; it matters not the perilous journey, the illusioned destination or the immeasurable wear. Each and everyone of us is weighed down or tied to something-- a being, a duty or a cause. These, the cells we can never truly escape.
It comes in many forms, our personal Jailguard. Some wear them in metal: iron, gold, or silver. Some choose to be restrained by more delicate materials like a string of pearls, a measure of satin ribbon. The hand that seals the lock and throws the key may sometimes be ours or unbeknownst to the sufferer but it does little to appease the reality of its damnable existence.
No matter the material, the wearer, the cause.. Chains, like God or smoke or most anything supernatural... Are only as real as the faith you invest in its power.
Jan 19, 2014
Jan 19, 2014 at 10:15 AM UTC
Having the same old conversations but adding nothing new. You've had enough of me and I'm ******* done with you. We just fight and you cry and I feel like the bad guy- then we start again. I don't even remember when we were friends.
You get so off track and I try to pull you back. But then you act all sad, and it makes me feel bad. Settle down, why can't you just calm down? What can I do to make you come around? You're spiraling out of control. You're not making any sense, you know. If I'm more a hindrance than a help I'll have to let you go. On your own.
I'm gonna punch you in the face if you won't shut up. Dude, I've had enough. Yeah you know we've been having the same old conversations and adding nothing new. You're getting fed up with me and I'm so **** tired of you.
Say it again, I know you'll say it again. You'll tell me you love me, you think maybe this time it will mean something. But you're way off, you're so illusioned and scoff- when I tell you your empty declarations don't mean a thing- to me.
You're so extreme, you're just a male drama queen. You drink and drive to risk your life, then brush me off and tell me you're fine. You're a danger to yourself and everyone around you. I don't know how to react when you're in these moods. Shut up. Just let me think. I don't know if I can pull you back, when you're reaching for the brink. I can't stop you if you're determined to sink. There's only so much I can do, before I'll be forced to give up on you. I'm trying so **** hard to save you but you're making it impossible. I can't fix you on my own, you give me no help at all.
Jun 8, 2014
Jun 8, 2014 at 12:12 AM UTC
One must commit mistakes to learn with pained mind
To err is the nature of humankind
And one shall always accept that of which is not
To be illusioned, the ****** identifications, the Self a fabricated rot
The fool has propensity to cheat, posing oneself an intelligent being
They'll write books of Self philosophies and fail to realize their lack of flawless seeing
Our senses are imperfect, we are too proud of our eyes
One cannot see God but within the dark our hands also disappear and that is the mass demise
Thus how does one become a liberated soul
Without losing sight of its conscious whole
Nov 25, 2012
Nov 25, 2012 at 11:01 PM UTC
cinnamon tea in a chipped
thrift store mug
a minute ago
it was too hot
and now it's too cold
here and there
fast and then faster still
it all happened so quickly
i barely had the chance to blink
it all happened before i even
had the chance to stop and think
but the red light on 6th street
lasts a minute longer at midnight
and that's where i usually
come into my remembering
sometimes revelations hit you
less like a brick and more like a burn
it's a kind of hurt that stings longer
than the bruise of the initial blow
i guess you never know
when the last time
becomes the last
it happened so fast
you forgot all the times
you ached so ardently
you thought you'd become
symbiotic with the pain
but the idyllic recollections always linger
like scalding hot shower steam
hanging around a winter room
you illusioned elation because
it felt better than the truth
it was the last time
but somewhere deep down
you already knew
you held the feeling in your gut
begging for countered proof
you've unfolded the understanding
became transparent with the pattern
joy is punctuated by brevity
the very reason it tasted so sweet
on the tip of your tongue
time follows a template
of give and take
the longer you live
the more natural it becomes
to see your fair share of loss
and you know everything ends
you know the swift current of this
breathtaking experience in space
is the temporariness of existence
but why does everyone leave
a minute ago they were here, now
the sureness you cultivated is ripped to shreds
and thrown like confetti in the wind
and love is carried away
like it never held any weight at all
the wheel spins,
the last time
becomes the last
and yet again
you become just another piece
of someone else's past
Dec 23, 2020
Dec 23, 2020 at 11:19 PM UTC
i am disconnected from
my body, my life,
the shattered pieces
bearing my once loved
consciousness.
i exist on autopilot
after the sun goes down.
my bones ache with
lack of purpose,
desire, compassion
towards myself.
i’m lying when i say
i hate everyone i’ve been
and everything i shall be.
in truth, i am just a hollow
unfeeling mass that one day
illusioned flowers will spring from.
May 20, 2017
May 20, 2017 at 3:14 AM UTC
1.
There goes Hooker’s nose
Larger than life, breathed in
“Majestic, it sprang” from his face
“The marvel of time, the wonder of men”
Molded by the General and his
lyrical men
2.
Whip Bobbie Lee you may,
for this miracle happened
in the strangest way
in the meadows,
in the bright of day
three invaluable cigars lay
3.
Some men smart in ways unimagined,
appear as Janus in the midst of kings,
feign blunder to catch the unsuspecting plunderer,
who waltzes right in (or away) from his fate,
******* the grit out of men, they lose faith
4.
To His right is the good thief
and he inclines his head
But a thief is a thief, nonetheless?
5.
Two-hundred-ninety-nine-hundred-two men are in the cornfield, their mouths silently forming hurrahs and their hands slack at their sides.
Two-hundred-ninety-nine-hundred-two-men are ****** eagles of Indiana.
6.
“No shock can destroy”, the carnage of Shocksburg
“The world shall behold”, “the triumph of”
“Tyranny, sorrow, and darkness”
“Hurrah for the” “dream
of a madman, the song of a fool.”
7.
McClellan sees double, no, triple.
And Lincoln, victory where there isn’t.
And I, beauty where one should not.
8.
Let men become crusaders, emancipators, and proclamators,
of all things and
all things good and just.
9.
Your arms resemble corn stalks and your eyes
poppy seeds. Spread-eagle yourself, at the mercy of
the Kingdom of Heaven.
Say your last Hurrahs and clutch that laundry tight
to your chest.
10.
Disillusioned people get nowhere, at least illusioned people can
walk themselves over to the doors of Death?
11.
Samuel is like many other black laborers in the infantry-- mistaken in the most wonderful way.
“Hurrah! for the Union” he says.
and I begin to teach him how to write.
May 8, 2018
May 8, 2018 at 9:13 PM UTC