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Cné Aug 2015
Lairs twist life so it's tasty to the lazy
Powerful to the weak and crazy

Brilliant and seductive to the
ignorant youth
But even in pain, there is beauty in the truth

Even a tiny bit of deceit is dishonorable
For only cowards lie selfishly without preamble

As lies only strengthen a liar's defects
A liar's character, mind, & spirit gains no positive affects

The abuser of the truth paints with disappearing colors
Valuing the canvass at worthless dollars

For once the veil of the facade is lifted
Honesty, integrity and trust can never be re-gifted.

Unhappy are the takers
Or why else be fakers?

But to devastate the essence of the believer
Measures the cruelty of the deceiver

Inner peace with self deception
Is the doing of one's own soul's destruction

However if truth be told
When lies gradually unfold,

Is it better to be the believer
Or the deceiver?
Sara Kellie Jul 2018
Am I really that uncouth?
Have you lot yet worked out the truth.
The **** I write, it's so contrite.
I know you're dim
but I thought you might.
I've been feeding bananas to you all.
Big bananas, none are small.
All are bent, of course they are.
Enough's enough, it's gone too far.

Dear Voyeurs, to all my fans.
Some ride cycles, some drive vans.
for M&Y, yeah you're the guy.
So I bait my line and continue the lie.
But let's have it right, as well I might.
You wanted to play,
so pretended you're ***.
Now most I know aren't,
but one or two do.

Boiler repair guy with the twinkly eye.
Bent over in two, I spank with a shoe.
And all that he asks is, I call him Sue.
So I have him pegged,
for that's what he begged.
But now he knocks on my door
wanting much more.

******' Big Bent Bananas
by Kaydee.

(slurp, slurp)
Threw some big bananas out today.
Hope you all enjoyed the show.
How many of you busted a nut?
*******, none of you can even walk straight.
M&Y, Regenda, Big time Charlie, and you lot at 4am the taxi rank?
Not understanding what or why I'm doing what you can see, you just drank it all in.
Well here's some more. Only difference is here, just like I do mine, you all know your own truths and what is absolute *****, eh boiler repair guy!
Go on then drink it all up!
Deb Jones Aug 2018
People who sincerely
believe they have nothing to hide?
Will still lie to you.
Get used to it.
Expect it.
Assume you are being lied to
until you have proof of the truth.
Then double-check the proof.
And in this we can be confident
A small truth is better then the greatest lie.
And in the reverse,
Every lie has some truth
And the worst lies?
Are the ones we tell ourselves.
I am brutally honest with myself. With no else. Not completely anyway. But it’s always shocking to find I have lied to myself. When long ago I promised myself I would always be honest with me.
Leal Knowone Jan 2015
LOST NO LIGHT, LIFE IN VAIN
CARRY LIARS INTO THE FLAMES
DREADED MEMORIES OF HORRIBLE PAIN
BURY MEMORIES ALL THE SAME

HOPEFUL HEARTS OPEN TO THE SUN
AS A NEW DAY DAWNS
AFTER ALL IS SAID AND DONE
I'M A BULLET WITH NO GUN
I'M ALIVE AGAIN
AT THE END BACK WERE WE BEGAN

WHATEVER GODS MAY BE
I'M THE MASTER I CREATE
MASTER OF MY DESTINY
THE MASTER OF MY FATE
I AM THE CAPTAIN OF THIS SOUL
YOU CAN NOT VIOLATE
YOU WONT MAKE ME COLD
I WONT FEEL YOUR HATE

wrong & right its all the same
you still have somewhere to place the blame
lost in forbidden realms of the brain
it all seems different but still the same

LOST NO LIGHT, LIFE IN VAIN
CARRY LIARS INTO THE FLAMES
DREADED MEMORIES OF HORRIBLE PAIN
BURY MEMORIES ALL THE SAME

HOPEFUL HEARTS OPEN TO THE SUN
AS A NEW DAY DAWNS
AFTER ALL IS SAID AND DONE
I'M A BULLET WITH NO GUN
I'M ALIVE AGAIN
AT THE END BACK WERE WE BEGAN
Co wrote by Brad Huston A.K.A. Arcontas Blank
mollie Oct 2018
we were both liars
she pretended she cared
i pretended i didnt
the only difference is, that only one of us got hurt
Pyrrha Feb 20
Lips are not the only playground for liars
Their eyes are holding back storms
Like cauldrons brewing lightning
With such a high voltage
To shock you so suddenly
You will forget there ever was
A word named truth
Chicken Aug 2018
I guess you could see
by the look on my face,
I know
You’re full
Of ****.
Madison Aug 2018
Not all depressed cut,
Not all sad shed tears,
Not all strong fight,
Not all monsters roar,
Not all young are innocent.
Some just work harder to maintain a mask.
We are here,
And you have reason to fear,
We are the best liars,
We can manipulate the greatest con artist without batting an eyelash.
Watch out we are coming.
This is a dark and serious p poem but that didn't change the fact that In was tempted to put "and we're *****" instead of " And you have reason to fear" ****
English Jam Mar 2018
My golden years are a retrospective view
Doubtful, not sure, might be a last dance
One day I was gum-chewing with my Batman yo yo
Now my soul is rubber, and it leaks on the outside
Faded away from the youthful days
Once giddy pleasure
Now it’s all so
serious

The teen lifestyle washed over within seconds
Sure it’s fun to friends
Entertaining to have enemies
But the squabbles and meanders slow you down
The pitiful liars and desperate seekers
Worship through blasphemy whatever they care
Limbs don’t respond
Thoughts and actions don’t line up

You see it for what it truly is
Baby
You’re in danger
of maturing

Forgotten and dazed
Sitting in a broken armchair
It's difficult seeing through the fogginess
Finding the missing hours
Difficult on a drowse

...I work only weekdays (don't we all)...
...Fantastic gatherings on Sundays (family days)...
...Jimi Hendrix, he's good (bit of an understatement, mate)...
....He's the kind of guy I wish I could...

...etc...
Sammy Harris Mar 26
Her long black curled hair
Shoulder blades and collar bones
***** under a strategically placed towel
Candles and stripper heels.  

Seductive poses, he’s thinking about ******* her. Wanting her. He yearns for more. Wondering how this small frame feels.

My heart sank, dread filled my body
I expected to see fields and melting snow in that camera. Blinded while deleting all photo’s of you and I.

I didn’t deserve this, now I’m left with insecurities, anger and grief.
While you are just left with your lies and “erotica”
Lexie 2d
You make dead things out of living things just to make money
You make lies out of the truth and make anyone who tells you otherwise to look a fool
You make God cry and you made me angry
You tried tearing Yggdrasil up by the roots
But those were knots your fingers could not untie as carefully as you twist your tongue
Chris Neilson Feb 2017
Stuck in a lift
with a body odoured racist
hearing their bigoted views
with no space to resist

Stuck on a desert island
with a hungry cannibal
with nothing left to lose
you're the nearest mammal

Stuck on a planet
with climate change deniers  
intent on ignoring science
confirmed political liars

Stuck between a Brexit and an EU
who knows with whom we'll trade
everyone blaming each other
we need a politician upgrade
Yes, let's just get on with it
Omni Winters Oct 2018
You're innocent like the people of Salem.
But you're Abigail Williams.
We can all be a Reverend Hale sometimes. It's human.
But you are the witch.

© 2018 Omni Winters
October 26, 2018
English Jam May 2018
Drink to the woman who cared for others
Drink to the man who let her die in the gutter
Drink to those who think they have eternal youth
Drink to those who learn but don’t recognise truth
Drink to those who descend to the feet of Malkuth
Drink to those whose only wish is to hang from the roof
Drink to the liars whose only lie was that they were fine
Drink to the colours that dared to be vibrant and different from mine
Drink to the comedian whose pain is well nourished
Drink to the lover whose bruises have all flourished
Drink to the girl who doesn’t know what to believe
Drink to the guy who always feels like he has to leave
Drink to those who killed themselves to start anew
Drink to the crowd of many that thinks it’s a crowd of few
Drink to those who stand for themselves without any legs
Drink to the rich man who still stops and begs
Drink to those who worship God through death
Drink to those who don’t know they’re taking their final breath
Drink to the children who found guns way too early
Drink to the boy who was told he’s too girly
Drink to the saviour who taught peace and love
Drink to those who lived hatred to get above
Drink to the shadows who stayed carefully hidden
Drink to the people of whom the shadows were forbidden
Drink to the victims who were put into shame
Drink to the celebrities who forgot their own name
Drink to the singer who doesn’t know what the words mean
Drink to the speaker who tells stories of things he hasn’t seen
Drink to the majesties whose requests are over the top
Drink to the awkward kids who don’t know when to stop
Drink to the daydreamers lost in a drowse
Drink to the shimmering girl in a torn blouse
Drink to the society that discriminates anyone in its excess
Drink to the forgotten parade of losers, addicts and rejects
Drink to whoever sees love in the dark chapters of our books
Drink to those who are and aren’t obsessed with their looks
Drink to the new generation that abandoned its old pastiche
Drink to all who have and haven’t found their niche
Drink to the beach who had fresh scars each day
And drink to the ocean that washed the scars away

Drink, drink, drink, upon high
Raise your glass, raise your glass high

Cheers.
Yenson Aug 2018
How can my eyes hunger for tormentors bodies
where in my soul can I find desires for sadists
Eves threw on fitted coats of Marquis de Sade
borrowed his manuals and added even more pages
pierced the heart of a Dove defending his nest with lethal pins
And in joyous indignities with devilment aplomp
they reclined and crackled in wanton doltishness
He thinks of and desires us and wants to make amor with us

How can a heart marinated in love truely sincere
a soul ready to die rather than any harm to Eves
Be mother or sister or perchance even a stranger
alas in utter ******* and grotesque situation dire
Come undone with healthy pristine heart ripped to pieces
hung drawn and quartered and sliced in tiny morsels
Like fish baits for mice and minnows or hens clucking
All at the hands of Sirens who worshipped in Satan's cravens

How can a soul with only the spark of Salvation aglow
where it once housed his heart and enduring humanity
With brimful joy and devotions in fitting measures true
as all Eves where to him nowt but sisters and earth angels
Now his burning blood runs cold like rivelets in the Arctic
their words ring hollow and smiles shows rapiers of snakes
Nothing stirs desires for all Eves now seem and look like wicked corpses
Delilahs' wrecking vengeance on Samsons in wickedness supreme


[email protected] rights reserved
( Oh..please give over and go ply your delusions somewhere else, says I )
Stephen James Apr 15
friends and liars
two words that should be opposites
too often find themselves synonymous

friends and liars
always take note of those who surround you
they'll prove the price is steep for a grain of truth

friends and liars
two words that we think should be separated
too often find themselves integrated

friends and liars
don't allow loyalty to become a blinder
know your worth keeping your circle tighter
a poem
Momoir Jan 26
The ****** is in hospital with full blown [illegible] one year later
One year ago today
I killed the rose
Because something was wrong
Written by my mother, date unknown
Deborahlee Jan 24
you eat up lines that she dishes
seeing steak on the plate of ****
the wine you shipped top shelf
but her caviar is just counterfeit

she painted pictures she flashed
with you as the star of every bit
whispering tales of the airplane
carrying you for heights two hit

an email and message paper trail
screams out a capitalized tissy fit
as the silk spiderweb knots break
and you sniffing the perfume of it

now people point fingers sharing
every ***** lil detail the ***** spit
sipping foam latte with a cigarette
tossing your reputation into a pit
get a belly full yet?
I don't like spiders and snakes but...
The actors left already.
But our show goes on.
The camera, light and action number 2099.
I am a ready.
Do you, baby?
Do not forget your mask.
Show goes on.
Applause.
Alex Evans Mar 5
you're a ****-no-good-fool-liar as my mother would've called you,
          and by god i was the fool who knew.
i almost loved you--once, when we were younger kids still,
          when the girl of your dreams turned you down,
          and i asked you for a date.
even now i'm not really surprised by what you did.

you were the first boy i ever kissed (not the last) and we had no idea how--
         i hesitated, and you didn't; but once there we stayed on flickers of
         endorphins and energy that i know now weren't really there.

and looking back i wonder if i was keeping you from the edge--
        you hid your drinking problem for me (not that i ever--ever--
                             (--would've shamed you for it--)
        and told me later that you never drank while we were together,
        that you were clean, that you were engrossed in me
                     and your **** musical theatre.
you didn't lie about that, but when i found you with another girl,
         when i saw the way your eyes dropped to your feet and swelled with
         tears you didn't deserve to cry?
i left you, and i didn't regret it.

i never have.
i wonder, dear, if you're drowning in your lies the same way you used to drown in the bottle?
i hope not--but you chose to make it your problem only.

we move on--hopefully you're not sunken in your basement
        with only the flow of your hidden whiskey to keep you company.
Francie Lynch Nov 2018
Have you met the Who-Gee Boo-Gee Man?
He scammed fig leafs in the garden,
And **** cloth in Ottoman.

     outside-in, inside-out; upside-down, right-side up

The Who-gee Boo-gee Man can cuss.
He offers snake oil, spins a tale,
So you feel smart, healthy and hale.

     from top to bottom, bottom to top

The Who-gee Boo-gee Man can't stop.
He swrawls with a Sharpie pen.

     right is left, left is wrong

That's the Who-Gee Boo-Gee song.

Consultation for now is free,
No hidden added extra fees:
You buy two, you get three.

     north to south, east to west

The Who-Gee Boo-Gee Man won't rest.

I've heard his feet are cloven;
The eyes are yellow, lips look swollen;
He has *******, wears silk- woven.
He sweats like water to the lowest level;
He's quicker than the slyest devil,
Selling ****, but we hear heaven;
Doing so twenty-four seven.

He photo-shops secret desires,
Twists truth-tellers into liars;
Artful, wily, scheming, subtle,
The Who-Gee Boo-Gee's a hungry jackal.

     today is the day, yesterday's late,
     tomorrow's a place that just won't wait


I met up with the Who-Gee Boo-Gee Man,
Peddling apples from my jardain.
His teeth were false
but so was she
her tear-dropped gentle sob
his flashing smile concealed from her
a gurnied gummy gob

He wore a wig
but so did she
not just for satisfaction
she had to stack the odds her way
the laws of sweet attraction

His words were lies
but so were hers
she only wanted money
he told her he was stinking rich
she said she was his honey

He lied about his love for art
she told him he was great
and all the while she sized him up
to be her wedded mate

Many times she held his hand
many times she cried
said she lived for only him
and would until she died

That fateful day he told the truth
he had to let it out
she hit the roof and blew her top
began to scream and shout

'You lying swine!'
'I gave my all'
she uttered in a sob
his jaw dropped then
and as it did
revealed  his gummy gob

His teeth were false
but so was she
she lorded over men
they both threw out their ghastly wigs
and never met again

Yes -.his teeth were false
but so was she...
Sphoorthy Soma Dec 2010
We are liars; because
the truth of yesterday becomes
a lie of tomorrow
where as letters are fixed
and we live by the letter of truth..

the love I feel for my friend this year
is different from the love I felt last year
if it were not so, it would be a lie.

yet we reiterate love! love! love!
as if it were a coin with fixed value
instead of a flower that dies
and opens as a different bud.
thejohnags Jul 2018
you're lost in the wild
you don't know where you are,
you don't know what to do,
so you're dying in the dark.

you're looking for a trace
you're looking for a place,
but all you get is this maze
you should've seen your face
you got burned, got cornered
no turns, just liars.

and when you try to seek out the exit,
you find the monsters in your closet
smiling, waiting, hungry to dive in
you can run, but you can't hide
you can try, but you'll be found

so you're lonely in the streets,
you've been sleeping there, no sheets
you're looking for a mirror, looking for a lover,
looking for a mother, looking for a savior,
but you're alone, child.
but are you lone, child?
are you gonna cry now? be brave child.

the time is ticking
this game you're playing,
it's never ending,
but try to win it.

you say you're fine,
but you hope with fright.
you curse your life,
cuz it's killing you with pride.

the door is open,
but the sign says closed
your heart is breaking,
but you got no one to hold.

so you hold onto your dreams:
bright, and thriving lights, NYC
but is it worth it? can you chase it?
can you catch it? or miss all of it?

you sit in the corner of the bed
you're thinking about life, you're thinking about death
you're thinking about your friends, you're thinking about your family
when you thought of yourself, you thought of yourself lastly.

you sit and think about living
what to do to learn? what to do to earn?
how to keep up the pace?
how to dance in the rain?
and why are you lonely in this sick, crazy game?

so you wake up in the streets
the air is warm, so you smile, and you breathe
looking for dime, looking for a rhyme,
looking for more time, looking for your prime

looking for a flower,
looking for a paper,
cuz that is what you're best at:
painting words then you're a goner.
Ken Pepiton Aug 2018
A pocket of thought, ideas.
Impulses, has beens

epi-phenom-enal-con-currencies-synchron-icity
sorting places, thens and nows vying for attention

you see
we till stories in search of true tomorrows
not true
yesterdays (till, I said, not tell)
we **** the hard rows no one else will ***
so seed lies sown are never lies told, if the lies are never taught
or if the liars are caught before convincing the
intended crop to lie and swear a common liege Lord,
or die
for lack of knowing. Non-nascence, simplest
symptom to not see.
Whose death is yours to respond responsibly
to? My child's, or yourn?
In the early days, we knew less than we know now
about how knowing and growing were all
intended
to cost time. Ticks, ono motto whatever, the sound
gears and spiral springs pushing cogs
tick, one tooth tick at atime make

this is rough, un polished, un glossed, is it wrong or

as I imagine a diamond in the rough must seem to a share cropper
experienced in diamond hunting, diamond prospecting,

prospecting expecting inspection to permit
seeing a 3.2 specific gravity,
specific
specify

species or spectacles,
spectators or special-if-eye-cation
value-en-abled. Weigh your mind in balance
with mine. I claim the mind of Christ.
What are the odds?

A wandering path, injoyable enable if-i-abble,
pacing is

everything, timing is everything, time is the test.

Time is the metagame.
Take your time. One word formed sylabble at a time.
Babble on, your confusion makes you mortal, to my mind.
Tick.
A quanta of time. Does time come in bits and pieces cernible,
but undiscernible from reality?

Babble.

Of course, time will tell. We learned that in our sleep, did we not?

Aesop taught us more than Moses, no,
Aesop taught us less than Moses.

But, we could learn to walk bearing the weight of knowing what
Aesop taught,
while we could not stand under the weight
Moses was said
to have taught.

Caught you, Jewboy. Whatchewknow?
The moral of the story.

THE IDEA is to win.
Beware the concision decision.
incisive devices, witty inventions.

Flip the shell, roll the bones, cast the runes and,
as luck might have it, die before your time.

Why factors are lies more oft than how factors.
Benefactors rule malefactors or
how or why would we invest our time in seeking reasons
to believe?

Is this the polished piece, the gemstone of specific gravity
(which currently means nothing to you. Here, you find too light
or too heavy, too weighty on the scale of specific value.)

Hard. Value hard, diamond hard, on Mr. Moore's scaled model of
Knowing exploding for reason's sake, raison d'etre, eh?
Too hard?
Not Mohr,
don't get me wrong.
We been Moore's law breaker all along.
We be manifested destinatory stories of heroes gone wrong.

Outlawed
knowing exploding to be reasoned with, by kind
children destined to become
written in stone, scarred by lies

Diamonds cutting diamonds, iron whetting iron
on eternity's edge.

Babylon, was it Bel's gate or fusion from below rising?

Magma fountains with diamond claws tearing the lands asunder
Is asunder still a word?, let me, allow me to define...
"into a position apart, separate,
into separate parts,"
mid-12c., contraction of Old English on sundran 
Middle English used to know asunder for
"distinguish, tell apart."
From <https://www.etymonline.com/word/asunder>

mumbler's humbler PIE, bowing before the knowers who
know nothing of my work.
Set apart, art thou holy aware?

Hermit me, meet the rest of me. The true rest that remained.
We live, you and I. Trust me, next is worth the wait.

Suffer needs no pain to make its point. Waiting is.

Grokk. WHO would believe that idea could live
through telegraphese to be tweet meets for the
Cosplay clans. How never grokked a rock,  why even less.

Strange, not be long in this
place. if
place this be. Odd
set aside
torn asunder
blown away.
Awake, little birdie, tell me true,
what's a man like me to do?

Did you meet the famous Mr. Blake?
I cleaned his chimney, way back when, chimbly's whut
we called em. Smoke stacks belchin' black
makin' black moths invisible to voracious
gulls.
Now the peppered moths are free
to be white-ish, for better or worse.


----

right, now, do right or

miss the mark,
the specific mark you made, maybe,
imagining, abstract obstructions missed
by the skin on Job's teeth as you run past

right now to more. You know?

----=

Story telling was the same as lying when I was a child, to me.

Telling stories was my gift I never took. Or am I lying? or mad,
in the old way.
Chailot's rag picker was my best friend.

No noble thought ever found it's home in my head, once
I thunk it, it stunk to high heaven, for me stinkin' thinkin' it.

Po' ems sang sour to fiddles wit' one strang and drums with no
cymbals
Screamin' he owed m' soul the comp'ny sto' bang bang thud.

I died, he lied, and lived to tell this story, ****** if I know,
****** if I don't.

True as true can be. I am lost, but once was found,
lyin' rough, uncut in acres of unseen gems.
----
Voltaire refused to teach me any thing I could not define:
late 14c., deffinen, diffinen, "to specify; to fix or establish authoritatively;" of words, phrases, etc., "state the signification of, explain what is meant by, describe in detail," from Old French defenir, definir "to finish, conclude, come to an end; bring to an end; define, determine with precision," and directly from Medieval Latin diffinire, definire, from Latin definire "to limit, determine, explain," from de "completely" (see de-) + finire "to bound, limit," from finis "boundary, end" (see finish (v.)). From c. 1400 as "determine, declare, or mark the limit of." Related: Defined; defining.

So, imagine facets unseen, I am at least a meme, a bubble rising on the tide. Think, as you will. Amen?
Incorporating radical (root-related) definitions via cut and paste is my way of acknowledging that I have no ex-uses left for using words in a wrong, thus lying, way.
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