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Brycical Nov 2013
Time flies like a baby fruit fly to a banana
buzzing through a brand new day through the fractal lakes
cleansing my body in peppermint amethyst vibrations
as the gyrations of the water ripple and drip down my back and waist
tickling the skin into submission--
I'm on a love mission feeling the splish-splash nefelibata mind
within my glowing gold-hazel eyes as I realize my potential.
The world isn't simply my oyster
my voice can make a difference
if I wish and believe me I've kissed Aladdin's lamp
but my mind is filled with vagary so I plant the seeds
in my magic garden and watch them grow--
burst through the ground and glowing
some like emerald embers
and others like electric chalcopyrite
as my third-eye shines and pops calico corn
crackling in the back the ideas simmer on the grill
near the chilled ZuZu Juju honeydew wine
while the electric blue hip panther cat croons
away on her guitar in ancient star languages saeng
when we were all just haranguing through the ONE-light
all bright sun's right to shine a vine of fire rays
into our future past selves
now aligned with burning designs of moons, suns and AUMS.
The animal pixie band manipulates the sounds around us--
the cicadas sing a lotus chorus while the tiger-painted rabbits rapidly
strum rainbow hieroglyphs on their magic harps
while the jazz sax racoons all dressed in jasper suede jackets
and backwards newsboy caps
play a theta vibration so meditatively
we dance in digambara dream catcher trance
of enhanced meraki enchanted atoms
and cells boiling in passionate blood.

After all the eating and dancing we play in the clay mud
recreating our animal forms and budding faces blooming
and swooning as our winged auras sling us
into the dusk sky
to sway and zoom in the rain.
later we enter Father Sky's cloud castle
for a peaceful night curled up by the azurite lightning fireplace
roasting marmalade maple marshmallows
with those rasta angel fellows token
on the diviner's sage sippin mugwort tea.
And as we third eye-gaze into and through each other
seeing our past and future time tubes
aligning into a sacred golden flower sphere,
we giggle like silly fox children
we've forgotten hours have left our pockets
cause to us it only seems like seconds have gone by...
This trumpeter of nothingness, employed
To keep our reason dull and null and void.
This man of wind and froth and flux will sell
The wares of any who reward him well.
Praising whatever he is paid to praise,
He hunts for ever-newer, smarter ways
To make the gilt seen gold; the shoddy, silk;
To cheat us legally; to bluff and bilk
By methods which no jury can prevent
Because the law's not broken, only bent.

This mind for hire, this mental *******
Can tell the half-lie hardest to refute;
Knows how to hide an inconvenient fact
And when to leave a doubtful claim unbacked;
Manipulates the truth but not too much,
And if his patter needs the Human Touch,
Skillfully artless, artlessly naive,
Wears his convenient heart upon his sleeve.

He uses words that once were strong and fine,
Primal as sun and moon and bread and wine,
True, honourable, honoured, clear and keen,
And leaves them shabby, worn, diminished, mean.
He takes ideas and trains them to engage
In the long little wars big combines wage...
He keeps his logic loose, his feelings flimsy;
Turns eloquence to cant and wit to whimsy;
Trims language till it fits his clients, pattern
And style's a glossy **** or limping slattern.

He studies our defences, finds the cracks
And where the wall is weak or worn, attacks.
lie finds the fear that's deep, the wound that's tender,
And mastered, outmanouevered, we surrender.
We who have tried to choose accept his choice
And tired succumb to his untiring voice.
The dripping tap makes even granite soften
We trust the brand-name we have heard so often
And join the queue of sheep that flock to buy;
We fools who know our folly, you and I.
Jen Jo Nov 2014
You will never know the true colors of your best friend
Until you work,
And analyze the way she manipulates boys
Always run, before your best friend becomes that person that one day snatches away what values most to you heartlessly.
Vagabond Jul 2014
It's an addiction
The feeling of ink to paper flowing from the mind to a needle delivering relief
It's an affliction
A disease that manifests itself as dialogue and description
It's an abomination
A beast that bares its teeth and sinks into the page
It's creation
That bleeds and breathes and loves and hates and learns
It's desolation
That manipulates and destroys enveloping the world in its darkness
It's imagination
That addicts, creates, and destroys nothing *but the mind
sapthepoet Jan 2014
At age 27 I ask myself what the hell I am so afraid of
I was born in Central America and my family
Tree reveals that I am from Belize City
This means that I’m Belizean
I’m mixed with white & black  
But I’m not African American since I don’t have any history
Or evidence of my family living in America generations after generations
I’m not even sure if my ancestors were owned by slaves or not
But I won’t assume that we weren’t

Today I ask myself why I love this country so much
That I desperately strive to become American legally
And I want to feel like an American
I know more about African & U.S. History than Central America
I feel like a disgrace to my culture
Yet I haven’t tried to google, ask my family questions
Or even pick up a book to find out more about my ancestors

Whether they’re foreigners or Americans
They tell me that I speak perfect English
And I look like I’m African American
And they can’t even hear my accent
But I think to myself,
Well it’s still there my accent just isn’t as strong and it’s not difficult for me to pronounce English after living here for 15 years
And as for my skin complexion, hey I acknowledge that fact that I’m half black
I didn’t get this skin color from sitting in the New Mexico sun for too long

From what I’ve learned the languages that exist in Belize are:
1. Creole,
2. Garifuna,
3. Spanish,
4. Maya Mopan,
5. Maya Yucateco,
6. Maya Ketchi,
7. Hindi,
8. And German.

We eat:
1. Tamales,
2. Rice &beans;,
3. Craw-fish,
4. Pig-tail, meat-pie,
5. Mango, craboo which is fruit with milk and sugar,
6. Fried plantains.
7. Rompopo is Belizean eggnog mixed with brandy or ***

My favorite food was garnaches which:
Is corn tortilla, refried beans, and shredded cheese  
Fried cake which is bread dough that is shaped
Like a moon that was cut in half and then fried in a skillet

Belize has a variety of ethnicity
Chinese, white, black, Mexican, Native American, etc
So you might look at one of us and assume
They’re Mexican because their skin color is brown
Or think they’re Jamaican, African, and African American because
Of their dark skin or their foreign accent
But that person might be Belizean

We celebrate Independence Day on September 21
They listen to reggae music called *****
My family’s dialect is creole
Da we de gon on
Means hows it going

One day I hope that I’m confident enough to embrace everything:
The culture/country that I was born in,
The American life style that I live now and
Accepting the fact that I’m still black
Even though I’m also Belizean
I don’t want to continue to be bound to my shame of my ethnicity
Or this society that manipulates you
Into believing that surviving and
Making money should be your main focus
Grace Pickard Mar 2014
Here's the thing about second chances;
After the first one you're just being           used
No matter he says and dances
Your sweet personality is abused

When one can't let go
Waiting for the right moment
Feeling oh so low
Becoming more than broken

He manipulates
But karma never reciprocates

Crying- being vulnerable
He apprehends
While you're not able

To comprehend

Seeking a lover
Or perhaps just being lonely
He starts to smother
But it's him being phony

He manipulates
But karma never reciprocates
From my whole slew of unrequited love with my best friend poems.
Boundless dusk above forsaken intuitions
Stones with ancient seeds
Yet the roots can breathe
The earthly exuberance                                                       ­                       
The naked secret of our song
That manipulates my tounge
Redden from you and I
The contact of our lips
Simulating my hunger for your groin
The nerves of my vertebrates  harbor your weight
As my breast shudder from your touch
Primal delicious desires
I thirst for  the fluids of your flesh

With nurture and greed
I moisten your fingers
Help you find my sensitive  pearl
Relishing the trail of the garden of youth
Primal delicious desires explode in need
Delicate softness of my mystical place
Lifting my body with much response
As my fingers dance, pinch and **** at my peaks
Repeatedly as you   ****** me
I gasp and beg for your caress
I shudder as I chase my wave
Reaching as I whimper into a ******

Simulating my hunger for your groin
Inflaming my pores
I enlarge you ever so slow
Working my hands holding you from behind
One swift lick of your rigid flesh
You pull in a lungful of air
Your hot flesh started to grow
I ease you into my mouth
Circling as you keep the pace
Against me you put me in deep
The sweet taste of you makes me weak
Intense intervals underneath
Between your thighs

Intoxicating the very layers of my juice
I enlarge you once again
Moist and ready
I open my sweetness just for you
As I arch down onto you
Your hands rest on my hips
I begin to feel my flower grow
A whispering rouse escapes from my lungs
We flow inside each another
Deeper in my heat
Your aggressive arousal
Provoking me to quiver
The barrier surrenders to you and I
Vivid blossoms of tranquil harmony
Through the gateway of my womanhood

As you nurish the nutrients you covet for
My protruding pale pink buds
Plump with need
I'd hollow out to place you inside
I'd linger in this universe to pave your delicious desire
As you surrender  pushing me down
You penetrate my mouth once again
As you reclaim my mouth soft and pink
I hope this does not offend anyone if I did I'm sorry.
Susan Jacob Oct 2016
Brother, Brother what have you done?

You have gone up the stairs to be God’s son.

Your voice still echoes in my heart

your smile drives away macabre thoughts.

Brother,Brother why did you take leave

when evil saw you as too naive;

Isn’t it true that death is an inevitable end,

and that you can’t escape the strange trajectory.

Brother,brother don’t consider me selfish,

I didn’t talk to you sorry I was foolish.

I want to express my sadness

but,I don’t know why,I can’t get any tears.

Brother,maybe life has trained me that way,

to stay unshakable when emotions neigh.

The peace your face shows comforts me

as your soul’s mirror is the face only.

But your soul has gone back to it’s origin

your face doesn’t matter,you were ******

of treachery and obstacles and life’s hidden traps

just relax near that power and watch over us.

Brother your presence is much more now,

you might have gone high and low,

surfing the seas jumping the clouds;

disguising as nature’s unknown wonders.

Brother,brother you don’t have a race,

you are the same as a rainbow’s haze,

or the light falling on the cascades,

or the wind that comforted me this evening.

Brother,I know there is destiny

and, that nature doesn’t judge justly.

When your heart slowed it’s beat,

did you wish something?

All I can do is surmise

because,death always lies

that’s how it manipulates it’s victims

only the Angel of death shall listen to your last whisper.

Your soul,will be the same as other beings

we are just animals,the earth always spins.

Brother,it gives you a day

but,never reveals what will succeed.

Happiness is always followed by sadness

success by failures

birth by death

chance by hard-work.

It’s not what you do in life that mounts respect;

instead it’s the display of gratitude when help’s bereft.

That makes you remembered and loved.

Death itself is a miracle never sanctioning a fair chance.

You make promises,my dear brother,

the bringer of end never bothers.

The steps you made created lifes

without any soul even knowing.

Dear brother,your fragments go back to the Earth

your soul to the spinning fire hearth.

Absorbing all the energy like a magnet.

You shall take a new life form,I believe.

Like all the loved ones I have lost

you’ll be my protector,not eternal to the past.

Sorry brother,my breath will be air one day

and,I will be where you are anyway.
feel free to criticize
L A Lamb Sep 2014
I want to want someone. I can’t remember the last time *** wasn’t casual. But after two nights ago, I have hope for the future. He’s instilled hope once more, the hope of making love.

I once had *** with a thirty-three year old man in a storage unit.
I once had *** without kissing at all.
I once had *** with a man who I loved who never called me again.
I once had *** with a boy just in spite of his older brother, who I loved.
I once had *** just to have ***.
I once had *** just to have *** with a ******.
I once had *** just to see how big his **** was.
I once had *** because I wanted to have *** with a black man.
I once had *** only because it was New Year’s Eve.
I once had *** because I wanted to get back at my boyfriend for cheating on me.
I once had *** because I was drunk.
I once had *** because I wanted to have a ******* with two guys.
I once had *** because I wanted to have *** with a girl. We were both fourteen.
I once had *** because I was on the rebound.
I once had *** because I wanted to say I had *** with my brother’s best friend.
I once had *** because I wanted to be in control of having ***.
I once had *** because I’m a ****.
I once had *** because I’m sexually liberated, and I don’t give a **** about what society thinks.
I’ve had lots of ***,

But two nights ago was different. We didn’t have ***.
We didn’t even kiss. He held me. He told me he liked me, and he wanted to feel my body. It was only my back, stomach and ribs, but it was nice to feel touched without having ***. It was nice to feel **** without the ***.

I wonder if he thinks about me. He told me that he liked me in the summer, but the way he held me two nights ago I’d say he still liked me. He invited me out of the blue. I’m happy he did. He likes Alternative music. He also likes my favorite band. I snowboard, and he skis. His favorite color is orange, just like mine. We’re both tall. He’s blond; I like Aryan men. Maybe I really am a submissive woman—a complete product of society.

I wonder if he believes in God. I wonder if he’ll look down on me, because I don’t. He doesn’t mind that I don’t eat meat. He said I have a pretty voice. I wonder if he fantasizes about me. I haven’t fantasized about him before two nights ago.

There was one time over the summer when we went to a Hookah bar with friends. We smoked *** first, with a group of friends, before we left to the place in Virginia. I was pretty high, so I don’t remember most of the conversation, but I remember once when he brought up his girl friend. I took a puff of hookah, before I exhaled, and asked, “You have a girlfriend?” He replied, “Unfortunately.” I never understood this until two nights ago.
I don’t know if I want him, or someone like him.

I wonder if he’d think I was pretty without make-up.
He didn’t seem repulsed when I chopped off my long pretty hair, but I’m sure he couldn’t handle my moodiness. We’re both somewhat strange, but my impulsiveness and possible sociopathic nature deviates from the general humanistic thinkers. I don’t consider myself a hypocrite, because I honestly feel as if my feelings change more often than not.

We’re both twenty years-old.
He’s a long time relationship kind of guy; for the two years I’ve known him, he’s always had a girlfriend. There were only two, but he seemed to like them both.
I wonder if he loved either of them. Maybe he loved them both.
Did they love him? Did the resent each other?
I’ve never understood the resentment of women in regards to other women.
I’ve always been for sisterhood; I’ve always believed that men were corrupt.
Maybe that’s because I’m attracted to women.

I just feel like women should get along; they should understand women, given that they usually feel the same towards women. I feel like women hating each other is the result of a sexist society. Some women don’t even realize that they’re victims of a man’s world.
I don’t think he’s like that.
He’s not the kind of guy who manipulates.
He’s not a one-night stand.

He’s not the fairytale of “I once had *** because:”, he’s not someone I would want to forget, use, or manipulate.
I was supposed to go snowboarding with an ex-boyfriend next week.
He lives in SC, and I would’ve had to take a plane down to visit, in addition to paying for the lift tickets.
I blew him off.
Better yet, I told him that being friends was pointless.
We’re so different, and our relationship was crap. He was boring and ignorant.
The *** was boring, and occasionally I’d get off because he’d go down on me.
His ******* was the best part of our relationship.

I bet the guy from two nights ago is a great lover. He’s also tall, so he’s probably got a good-sized one.
I’d like to try it out sometime, not immediately, but maybe in a few months.
Maybe we could build a relationship.
Maybe he’s just like every other guy, and I’m just a delusional idealist who’s alone.
Who’s alone though?
Not me; I can have *** on command. I have, at the top of my head, six people who I could spend the night with (some who I’ve been with already, some not).
If I’m always in company, how can I be alone?

Could I tell the guy from two nights ago all of this? Would he run away like the others who have mattered? Or would he cling onto me like the others who didn’t matter?
Would he give me flowers? Would he think I’m a *****?
Would he view my glass of personality as half-empty or half-full?
Maybe he wouldn’t talk.
Maybe he’d just hold me like he did two nights ago and say so much without saying a word.
We’d breathe together and our heartbeats would breathe together.
Maybe he’ll dream about me.
2012 will tell.
He asked if I’d be around; I told him for nine months, I would.
Shanay Love Nov 2013
weakens the soul of those
who are blinded by destruction
of  the  world.

manipulates the concept of life
while painting the limited world
with  strife

is simply Earth in its place
consuming the good
that  sadly  effaced
mark john junor Jan 2014
there's a hard silence here
and there is a fresh echo of the dim kitchen light
in the ***** linoleum tiles that zigzag the floor
even the air feels broken as it limps slowly
through the room
i stop near the door upon entering
and gather myself
like a ragman gathering the tattered remains
stitching the fragments of self with the thread of awareness
weave the image of self into the reality of the moment
with the hesitations of someone who has lived this moment too many times'
it will come to naught
she is alive but her heart is dead
the dust on my worn coat is from the graves of my
fallow field where we once laid a crop of hopes
but i cannot abandon her to this barren place

i know i perceive only the narrow sunstricken pages
faded and stained with the words legible only to the hardy eye
but its the deeper tale which
even the gardener of times bloodstained trophy's
would fear to tread
his leather shod hands worry the intricate gears
of the mechanical face she wears
he manipulates it to wear a lopsided grin
pantomime of happiness for my birthday
but i watch the vacant places behind the face and see that
with a blemished mechanical eye she looks out over the oncoming
evening through the livingroom window
its cracked and ***** surface turns
the setting sun into a parody of dawn

she greets me but just stares out the window
as if she is waiting a lovers return
i stand infront of her blankly
we wait for the hours to pass
i fix her tea even though it isn't broken
and make small talk
as she makes mechanical sounds
till she sleeps
i leave with the dawn
and make my way to my own bed at last
to fend off dreams that something somewhere could be different
and wake to the sorrowful song of a passing bard
his thin feet dancing on a moonlight hilltop
meant for lovers only
and he is dancing alone
Day Wing Jun 2015
I’ve always wanted to have a friend
Someone who’d be there until the end
A companion through moments of hardship
Not a deserter who just decides to skip

I’ve always wanted to have a friend
Someone who’s loyalty would never bend
Together with trustworthiness and honesty
He’s not a deceitful liar who just manipulates me

I’ve always wanted to have a friend
To have a bond no price could comprehend
For neither money, nor jewelry could ever replace
A friendship’s bond, an everlasting embrace
Will you be my friend?  :)
Sometimes my mind flies away, leaving my body behind.
I look around the room, I’m so confused.
Who are these people? Why am I here?
It’s a bit too late, because they can’t relate.
What’s happening to me? Why do I want to flee?
Oh, this makes me hide, with no one by my side.
My mind is wondering so fast; here comes a flashback.

Why is he playing these games, and calling me names?
Though he’s not so bright, he surely knows how to fight.
He knows my triggers, so go figure.
He manipulates me, and watches me freeze.
His hands are so smooth, as he makes his move.
Pins me down to the ground; I begin to frown.
He looks into my eyes, as I begin to cry.
I try to tell him to stop, but it was a huge flop.
He seemed so cool; God, I’m such a fool.

Sometimes my mind flies away, leaving my body behind.
I look around the room; I’m so confused.
Who are these people? Why am I here?
It’s a bit too late, because they can’t relate.
What’s going on with me? Why do I want to flee?
Oh, this makes me hide, with no one by my side.
My mind is wondering so fast; here comes a flashback.

I’m in a deep sleep; but I hear a peep.
Oh he’s at it again; I already hate men.
So I push him away, before my mind went astray.
He gets on top of me, watching me freeze.
I wish I can move; so that I can prove,
I don’t want to be touched; please, this is a bit too much.

Sometimes my mind flies away, leaving my body behind.
I look around the room, I’m so confused.
Who are these people? Why am I here?
It’s a bit too late, because they can’t relate.
What's going on with me? Why do I want to flee?
Oh, this makes me hide, with no one by my side.
My mind is wondering so fast; here comes a flashback.

We’re arguing again; it’s half past ten.
He comes up from behind, kinda like a grind.
Tightly grasping me, I fell to my knee.
Begging him to stop, treating me like a prop.
This is all my fault, for not putting this to a halt.
He’s still holding me, waiting for my mind to flee.
His hand is on my dress, trying to expose my chest.
My heart is pounding, it’s not astounding.
I want to die, even though he’s high.
But, just one more time, won’t be a crime.
It’ll be over soon, just stare at the moon.

Sometimes my mind flies away, leaving my body behind.
I look around the room, I’m so confused.
Who are these people? Why am I here?
It’s a bit too late, because they can’t relate.
What's going on with me? Why do I want to flee?
Oh, this makes me hide, with no one by my side.
My mind is wondering so fast; here comes a flashback.

I’m getting into my car, until I notice a star,
Shining so bright, can this be right?
The time is here, but I’m shaking in fear.
Just look into his eyes, but please don’t cry.
I know he’s cheating, and I’m not foreseeing,
Any future with him; my life is so dim.
So I tell him goodbye, as I fix his tie.
I climb into my car, viewing him from afar.
I’ll never see him again, that’s my big plan.

Sometimes my mind flies away, please not today.
I look around the room, and that’s my cue.
Think about these people, focus on why I’m here.
It’s not too late, maybe they can relate?
I know what’s happening to me, but why do I want to flee?
Still I want to hide, but with very few by my side.
My mind is wondering so fast; I’ll try to avoid the flashback.
This poem tells a story of a young woman who experienced ****** assault throughout her relationship with her boyfriend.
sapthepoet Sep 2012
Distill water is healing.
The moons voice manipulates the ocean,
By reaching and pulling away from the sand
the suns smile equips us with Vitamin C
The Water cycle is a universal enigma.
She starts of as clouds quenching our planet with:
Oceans, lakes, rivers, and water puddles
she evaporates into mist of waves
Camouflaging her family recipe in the sky,
While cooks up new baby clouds
its starts all over again like the tadpole evolution
even though we all take water for granted sometimes,
She still supplies our needs.

By Shannon Pollard
©Summer 2012
Adeline Dean Jun 2013
You know, I’ve lied to myself. I’ve said every day, someday, someday your wish will be fulfilled and you’ll retrieve everything you’ve ever wanted. But here’s the reality, and oh, how much I loathe it. I’m not anywhere near where I want to be. I’m so far away, it is agenizing to sit here and just know that my heart may have this gaping hole for all eternity. It is just crazy to want something so intensely, that you start to believe you’ve gone completely insane, and I do so feel it! What does this mean? Does it mean that I am in fact insane? Or am I just falling in love with my fantasies?

There are days when I wake up, and I’m so confident! This is your day, this is your time, nobody not anybody can ruin it. BOOM! The curtain closes, end credits, it’s done, over, you’re immediately brought back down where you originally came from. I try, too. No, I don’t give up. I guess hope is what I’m gambling with. Hope can bring so much excitement, yet so much disappointment. When I see right in front of me something that makes me want to combust inside, I don’t want to lose that hope, because I rely on it.

It takes nearly all of me to get through something this complicated. Take love for example-hell I don’t know what the **** that is. Ask me about love and I’ll just respond, “Hearts and cuddles, kisses and snuggles.” I have no idea what love really means or even feels like. But lust, oh yeah I know exactly what that is. Love and lust battle one another. Oh, you love me? No, you lust me. Love I’m guessing has no real meaning, but a feeling. You probably can’t describe it, and maybe that’s why nobody really knows what it is until they experience it.

Lust, I’d say is 99% of what we feel towards another person. It is a fog, it’s there for a little while, then it is all gone. It’s a lie, it’s not love. It manipulates you, it is ecstasy, but it is also hell. When you say to me that you love me, I by no means can believe it. You lust me. You like me. You have interests, but it won’t last. And when that fog of lust surpasses, all of it is consumed and forever nonexistent. So if I was to allow lustful feelings to blindfold me, I’d only be leading myself into a heartbreak. I’d be lying to myself like I have been lately.

I say to myself, self, you are not in love, you are in lust. You don’t know what you’re doing. It is possible you are right, but you cannot ignore the possibility that you may be wrong. Don’t stop dreaming, but don’t allow the fog to trap you. Life is a maze, and you have no map. You’ll never know what’s lurking in the shadows, but what you do know is that you provide your own light, and with your luminescence, you will get to your destination safe and sound.

So stop lying to yourselves. Don’t give up hoping, but do try to see through your lustful ways. Dreams are not just for sleeping, you have all the power within you to make them real. Of course it’s difficult, life is a puzzle. So what are you doing just sitting here? Go and search for those pieces, and work hard to fit them together. No amount of hope is going to make your dreams come true alone, you have to partake in some effort or it’s just lusting all over again.
Domenick Oct 2018
I write too often while thinking of you

It's late, everyone's asleep and my confidence is beginning to bate,
it feels like I've been awake for weeks straight, I can't extricate this state of distrait, everything is becoming harder to assimilate and I can barely differentiate reality from the reversed universe that my mind manipulates and creates,
My heart palpitates, my thoughts tumultuate and my lungs refuse to inflate under this weight as I begin to dissociate
What's great about my universe is that you can honestly relate,

Others understand in this mystic fantasy land,
There life isn't so bland, our existence was planned and best of all you and I roam hand in hand obeying your preferred god's demand,

There I'm not terrified that I will die with the afterlife unverified, the answers to my questions are clarified and my smile isn't forced or pried but instead a happiness that's justified,

There I have a perilous quest to distract me from the distress of the universe's careless emptiness, my feelings abide my behest and my mind doesn't remind me of my pointlessness,
Regardless I'd be happy nonetheless if I could leave all the rest just to retain your caress.

"Good times with this guy".
Marieta Maglas Aug 2013
(Richard and Anne opened their eyes.)

It was an emotional moment John never dared dream would happen.
He embraced his father, who was wearing a royal fur mantle of lapin.
'I feel like a little kid.' They broke down in tears, in each other’s arms.
'Those wall clocks worked to jolt you out of dreamland with big alarms.

The happiness in the family was clear in their massive smiles,
But the queen said,' I'm as tired as walking five hundred miles.'
They described how this meeting has made them be complete.
Frederick left them for an intimacy talk liking to be discreet.

'I can’t get out of bed’; said Anne, ‘I have a weird sensation in my legs.’
Freda came into the room saying, ‘I cooked for you bacon and eggs.'
'I can't eat with these shaky, weak arms, and I have a stomach pain.'
'Taking care of your needs is so hard,' ‘From meat, I must abstain.'

Jezebel came into the room, ‘my dear mother, how do you feel?'
'My eyes are blurry, and I can't see you. ‘To pray for you I kneel.'
‘I feel so light-headed, foggy, and faint. I'm thirsty, and I want to sleep,'
Said Richard. ‘I hear you, my dear father, and I began to weep.'

(After four months, in the castle, people were ready again for the wedding.)

The Archbishop was committed to keeping the wedding confidential.
Thus, the religious ceremony and the dinner were quintessential.
'If I could stop that misfortune happening to her,’ the groom thought.
'As soon as a baby will come into the family, things will change a lot!'

(Mary recovered, and came to the wedding. She embraced the bride. After that, he talked with Anne.)

'I should recognize there were some moments, when I felt as giving up.
I spiraled down in a whirlpool of sadness, and life was as a death cup.
I felt backed behind a wall .It was nowhere to run, and no reason to move.
Then, I was forced to do things I would normally fiercely disapprove.

Beneath its charming, the evilness manipulates, and destroys people
For its amusement, but its history is reddened in Surah's steeple
I lost my hope that the world, this imperfect place, can be good someday,
But I felt better than before, when I heard you're well, and I began to pray.'

(Anne replied to Mary.)

I think the feeling of disappointment that started in Surah's mind,
And slipped down to her soul was the result of being spiritually blind.
The knowledge that she had been wrong seeped into her bone,
And it wasn't a world to collapse , but a woman to become a stone.

(After two years, Pauline was talking with Freda and Eda, while preparing the dinner.)

'In the cave, there are skeletons of people who died under strange
Circumstances and the entrance of this grotto had to suffer a change.'
'Once, a friend of mine heard some cries of some bat creatures.  
They can ****** kids. ‘An expression of fear crossed Eda's features.

'Their bodies are black, though their wings are dark brown or red.
Their lower jaws contain serrated teeth. They’re big, people said.'
'It's only a demon having red lights on the eyes making them glow.
It becomes active, when the dandelion flowers the seeds start to blow.'

'I heard that a creature as no other one was painted on the wall.
In fact, it was a huge bat creature. Bats still exist , but they're small.'
'Did you hear that Surah died? She had burned scars all over body.
In the burning castle she wore a dress, which was cheap and shoddy.'

(Frederick was talking with Jezebel.)

Jezebel sat softly on a jutting rock near the old cave’s lake.
In that fine damp mist, as usual, she wanted to take a break.
Frederick came to see her, carrying his little son in his arms,
‘I'm in love with you and still deeply captivated by your charms.’

’ The castle has an open natural entrance and a bridge over the lake.’
‘I gave the poor people a half of the treasure for your father’s sake.
Clayton came to hand Anne the blamed castle's keys telling her
That Surah died in his arms. Clayton said,'' I loved her, but we were

Two lonely people in search of a lost happiness . It seems that it was
Not helpful. Now, I go to live in a monastic community because
I want to know the stages of becoming a monk. It has been a while
Since I took the time to find out about God. ‘He went out with a smile.

(Pauline and Freda were in the kitchen of the royal castle. Pauline looked out the window, and saw Clayton leaving the castle.)

'I've always thought that Clayton was a mysterious figure as a crow.'
'He has always loved Surah. He's not able to live without her, now.'
'But where is doctor Fox?’ ‘Who’s this doctor?' 'Nobody exactly knows.’
'Freda, it is said that the secrets lose all their power if they expose.'

The end
PH Jun 2011
She is olive.
A tan-skinned Jasmine.
A rare earth metal;
and jewel-encrusted.

Sepia crescent moons
Dart at me. And then away.
A velvet petal.
My spine crumbles; rusted.

And when she negotiates a lone fold,
                        to her shoulders
                        and comes to rest
                    across nape and breast.
                        As if immune;
                        She manipulates this simple tuck,
and every lesson, line, lecture, lash and lambaste in my language or hers is gone and has never existed.

                      This only tuck,
                                     that single fold;
                                     who gives a ****?
                                     Or so I've been sold.

Her hair is coveted;
linens for kings.
It gleams in my den,
near unworthy things.
slightly revised 11/2/11
L Jul 2018
Robots and gods.

Is this madness?
It must be.

On one hand, the robot feels.
The robot knows what it wants, takes it.
But has difficulty feeling what other people are feeling.

On the other hand, the god watches.
The god orchestrates and plans things to go its way.
But feels as though it doesnt have control over itself.

It manipulates and prods.
It is calculated.
It is watching.
It is observant.
It is careful, caring and emotionless.
Yet full of it. And still yet unexpressive. Full of life. Trapped in their vessels; their roles.

What am i?
Sharon Talbot Jul 2018
Twilight washes the bedlinens blue
And striped with flickering light they seem to move
And beckon us to lie in their folds,
Drawing away our clothes,
Pushing some to the floor.
Who are we to resist,
As the pretty song of strings off-key,
Winding through the forest rain
Like a goddess shedding robes,
Manipulates our minds and skins,
Only appeased by the union of
Heaven and Earth, of you and I?
Let us oblige them with our bodies,
You descending like the rain upon me
And I rising to you as the urgent river in waves
Beneath you until we are One?
If only for a night, in the Indonesian dark,
The tinkling droplets on the roof,
The flickering fires, the clouded desires.
We will send our lust into the mist and air,
So that it knows us when we are done at last,
And in every night until the world ends.
This was probably inspired by a scene in the film "The Year of Living Dangerously", about two lovers caught in the overthrow of Sukarno in 1965, now known as a coup by British and probably American governments. Their liaison in the forest is a more basic acting out of the overthrow of tyranny...but of which tyrant?
It happens all of the sudden.  One day it’s just one time and then it’s need.  That’s when you run into trouble.  After that, it’s a whole other ballgame.  It isn’t addiction until you need.  

I remember the first time.  You always remember your first time.  It’s like opening the biggest present at Christmas, it’s like sledding on that extra icy hill you knew was just a little too slippery, it’s like skydiving shooting stars high flying crazy.  

Instant exhilaration.  

It’s like that millisecond licking your lips before you go in for the kiss, that steamy shower on your cool skin.  

Absolute seduction.  

You just smile, lean back and say


My first time I said no.
No way.
No how.
I don’t do that.

It was a door in the back of my mind I had branded with a Do Not Enter sign.  I argued morals, I argued boundaries.  A secret promise to myself I kept safe behind lines I swore I wouldn’t cross.  But what really stopped me dead in my tracks, what kept me away from the forbidden fruit was fear.  

Maybe even some paranoia, or a little indignation at the idea of putting things up my delicate little pixie nose, scratching the thin tissue of my sinuses.  

But suddenly your friends are doing it, and they look just fine.  That security blanket of fear dissolves, a scary story to tuck away under your pillow like the boogieman.  They call it peer pressure, I think of it more like peer assurance.  Or maybe an experiment.  And that’s all we’re doing right?  The first time I said no.  The second time suddenly those lines were disappearing up my nose.

And then just, ah hah! This is what it’s like, this is the hype.  Like the first time you sit in the front seat of a car.  And think to yourself, well

That was pretty fun.

But nothing serious, just a fling.  One **** one night stand, no biggie.

But it’s nothing like that.  It’s like someone running up to you and whispering in your ear the biggest, darkest secret of life.  And that’s the funny thing, because that’s just it.

It starts with want.

And you have fun.  You get lost in your own lust and you take all you can get.   And you crave those little white pills because you just feel sosososo good.

And then one day you’re tired before school and you don’t know how to pep yourself up.  And you get this idea.  This crazy idea.  And you rail a little white pill.  And as you walk out the door, you feel like a million dollars.  You feel like you slept for 10 hours, like you just got every question on a test right including the extra credit.  And you breeze right through your day, high flying on autopilot.

That’s the ***** secret with the whole thing.  It makes everything so **** easy.  

Tired? Have a line.
Hungry? Have a line.
Sad? Have a line.
Bored? Have a line.

It becomes a ritual, it becomes a secret club no one else can know about.  It’s that lover you sneak off to in the middle of those lonely nights, when your thoughts endlessly thrash against your skull, doubts echoing into the dark room surrounding you.  

But it’s not your life.  More like a habit, like a friend from the wrong side of the tracks.  

What happens from then on is hard to say.  For me, it was when my world shut down around me, when I felt like I was absolutely alone.  When I felt like I was free falling and I had nowhere to land.  Like I had just been beaten in an alleyway left for dead.  I needed someone to hold me.  And all I saw was the Ritalin.  

For me, it was falling in love.  It was giving my soul to you and having you rip it apart.  It was the way you looked into my eyes and stroked my hair.  It was the echo of you closing the door.  You left me behind.  You made me love you and then you just kept walking past.  It was getting my heart broken for the last time, it was a moment of weakness.  As my world crumbled, I took a whiff on courage.  

And suddenly it’s need.  

It tricks you, it makes you forget that once upon a time you were fine alone.  It manipulates you and makes you think you can’t live without it.  Suddenly, there is no life without drugs.  

You’re avoiding people, you’re skipping lunch to powder your nose, your eyes are bugged open and you’re chomping gum 24/7.  People insist you look fabulous from the lost weight and you feel ******* fabulous from your lost hate, buried under the influence.  You are up for 3 days and asleep for 20 hours.  And the crash.  Your head pounds and your hands shake.  You yell at all your friends and you’re late to work 4 days in a row.  And you just needneedneed to go up again because you just can’t take it anymore.

You scamper up as high as you can reach and you’re afraid to come down.  But your body can only last so long.

The big OD is not something taken lightly, a grey no-man's land where brittle lifelines tend to snap.  I was lucky.  I didn’t break, didn't get the 911 nightmare, just took too much too fast, and I felt SO good.  But then, I didn’t feel so good.  Suddenly, I felt pretty **** awful.  I didn’t go into cardiac arrest or anything, but it scared me shitless.  Scared me right off the ****, minus a binge or two.

At least, it did.  For a little while.

Now that voice I know too well is whispering again, and I don’t always feel like saying no.  

I remember when I used to flaunt my new hobby to my friends.  I felt like some sort of glamorous superstar that knew exactly how to have a good time.  Like it was some sort of VIP club that they just had to get into.  And then I didn’t wanna talk about it, they just don’t get it.  They don’t get it.  I need it.  But only sometimes.

Yeah yeah, stupid.  I get it.  You think I’m asking for it.  I lost control and I’m gonna lose it again.  But I made myself stop before, of course I can do it again.  I am cool, calm, collected and totally in control.


 I felt so cold when you left me here.  I never want to feel again.
S R Mats Jun 2015
I am an expert on your culture.
After all, I have cable tv
With many channels to inform me.

I have earned the right, as any vulture,
To pick you apart at your weakest seam.
In darkest moments you'll get no reprieve.

I am justified in my judgements, you see.
For I have cable tv to teach me
All the narrow truths that I need.
Where did the love go?
SweetJacksonFan Jun 2014
 you would not want to meet

 is not worthy of a greet

 is rather offbeat

 thinks he is so elite

 is a man incomplete

 is very far from sweet

 is full of conceit

 is riddled with deceit

 secretly plays Trick or Treat

 manipulates the Balance Sheet

 knows how to deplete

 has a business that's not concrete

 risks being beat into mince meat

 is a ***** rotten cheat

 does it in the backseat

 likes to turn up the heat

 is not too discreet

 knows how to mistreat

 probably has smelly feet

 I imagine, would secrete gleet

 is the type to *** on the toilet seat

 is a glutton that is not shy to eat

 has a large carbon footprint with his flashy car fleet

 undeservingly always gets a lovely hotel suite

 forever gets granted the nicest plane window seat

 the movie, received tweet after tweet

 the man, was also not short of a tweet

 is enough to make me bleat

 should go into retreat

 whatever you may think, did not reach a great feat

 cannot avoid the Hot Seat

 will get very downbeat

 will suffer absolute defeat

 will become obsolete

**Then God will press delete
21st June 2014 @ 02:26

Do not glorify immoral behaviour.

Alternatively, you can try chanting my poem while beating your chest as demonstrated by Matthew McConaughey in the movie.
Lindsey Miller Jun 2012
i am being aimlessly guided by a decrepit side street.
the smell of who-knows-what hangs in the still like an occupied noose
as i strain to ignore the unpleasant moisture on my brow,
the imperceptible perspiration of emotional exertion.

my heels can decipher the coded cracks in the concrete
and converse with muffled clackings that echo from alleyway walls.
they say, "our coordinates are flawless; this is the path to freedom."
i think, to reach it alone would be more bitter than any confinement.

‘cause i left some love in an empty room miles from here—
it’s collecting cobwebs instead of affections
while the idol of unrequited passion burns
and its ashes are faxed to four far corners of a hardhearted world.

i reach a dead end and feel the breath catch in my throat.
there is nothing here but the empty cocoons of the homeless
who have hopefully lifted themselves on dusty wings to a better place
leaving me searching for signs of life in the litter they've left behind.

there is a poster haphazardly taped to the bricks;
no lettering, no information, just the face of a man.
he stares blankly at me from his paper veranda
as if i were a television set, some mundane form of entertainment.

then, unexpectedly, a hole rips through the flyer
to compensate for the boot-clad leg freeing itself from dried pulp
and stepping heavily onto the pavement below.
i stumble back in mixed horror and disbelief as appendages creep lividly from the wall

until the man with the advertised face stands before me.
he pulls a pack of parliaments from his trenchcoat pocket
and wordlessly offers me one as his lighter births infant flame.
soon, the nicotine fog hangs like an opaque grey curtain between us.

then the silence is shattered, with shards of stillness breaking against the asphalt.
"i hope you weren't attempting to be stealthy. i could hear you for miles."
the voice emitted is raspy, the sound of a dull razorblade on the neck of a convict.
i shiver fiercely in response with a zero-kelvin cold.

a frankenstein hand fights through the smoke to grasp my ashen face.
his finger to my lips is a canker sore forming.
"a pretty lil' thing like you shouldn't be caught dead in this mess."
his forked tongue forms the words of nothing i don't already know.

i push him away. "just cut to the chase. we don't need to drag this out.
you know what i came here for, so let's get it over with."
my heart spasms in protest, but i suppress it with clenched fists.
as it dejectedly thuds in my chest, i can taste the bile rising in my throat.

he raises an eyebrow, then sniggers, showing off a yellow shark-toothed grin.
"the princess has a temper! well, you've come a long way for this, sweet cheeks."
he reaches into his coat, pulls out his leather gauntlets blackened with singe.
"say exactly what you need, doll, and your old pal lucifer will handle the rest."

my lungs deflate, punctured by pins and needles of stale air
and the blood dries in my veins like cruel sun blistering the desert.
half of me begs for lockjaw. the other half manipulates the corners of my mouth.
"erase him from my mind. i can't spend my life obsessing."

a glint of guilty pleasure in the devil's red eye seals the deal.
soul extraction's just like getting a tooth pulled, i tell myself regretfully.
it's just another part you don't need, a bland and disposable item.
but it doesn't quell the fear; i'm shaking hard enough to register on a richter scale.

the man in black embraces me, grasping my ribcage in his massive gloved hands.
a flash of doubt sears through me, yet i stand frozen, crucified.
i feel satan's minions pulling at memories like loose strings
and there is chanting in my ears; evolnilr igafognir effuseht eta ivellai sihth tiw.

i come to with dry heaves and a migraine sent from hell itself
to find that i am home in bed with the sheets around my ankles.
i rise and move to the mirror, see the dark circles traced around my eyes,
and dissolve into sobs without knowing why.
Chuck Feb 2013
The chiropractor
Manipulates my weak spine
Like you do to me
Stephen Leacock Feb 2017
Life is a code
It's within us and outside of us.
Above us and Below us.
We're one of a collective consciousness
As one giant code.
Our codes are like butterfly effects that ripples away thru the fabric of reality that loads...

We're like electricity that powers the circuit boards.
We're like an ipaddress that connects thru the gateway that glows.
We're interconnected as one as the energy flows.
Our functions are like c codes, like our genetic code.
We're programmers of our reality that select stars where the thought goes..

Our limitation is our perception of the code.
Our friends are like classes of our codes.
Our mistakes are part of the system that Manipulates our codes.
Some exceptions are caught by our download...

When zero's and ones are connected we give birth to a new code.
When the program completes its self, it's time to go.
But some of us might exit and some of us will just reload............
Valeria Ariza Oct 2016
Darling Dragon Blue,
Your life is a circus
full of ambiguities leaving you stumped,
unable to discern good from bad, truth from lies,
enemies from allies.

The Ring Master,
Master Illusionist,
Master Magician,
call him what you may,
he knows this,
he feeds off of this.

your misplaced trust
gives him power.

He targets you,
his spinning whip sings I love you,
Striking down ******* your soul,
drawing blood from your heart,
Painting hate in your eyes.

He announces you as his greatest possession,
his greatest achievement,
the love of his life.

But now the show’s over.
he looms over you
using his two faced mask to scare you back in your place
feeding off your insecurities and self doubt,
he grows stronger.

“Dance my boy Dance!” he cackles
“Sing my boy sing!”
he lines his whip with false love
to numb your pain.

But only for a little bit.
Only for a few seconds.

Long enough for you to believe it doesn’t hurt.
Long enough for you to forget his dagger words.

A damaged young dragon,
you burn your sorrow into the glass
when you whisper I love you to the mirror.
“I love you” it reads back.
and you feel so empty.

You realize you’re tired of performing on strings.
you yearn to dance freely, to soar high into the unforgiving sky
you want to burn this place to the ground screaming
“I loved you!” Roaring your mighty roar releasing your fright,
Spreading your mighty wings created for magnificent flight,
your bound legs unable to carry you,
you fall to the ground.
cold, helpless, the flame within you
threatening to die out.

The ring master finds you.
a confused frightened smile creeps onto his face
“I love you” he sneers
as he kicks you back into your cage
wondering why, oh why you tried to escape.

again with false love,
he manipulates you, a creature
endowed with so many beautiful talents and gifts,
not realizing he conditions his “ I love you’s” with pain, anger, and hate.

and you a mighty dragon only wish to control your own fate.

And so Enough.
you roar.
The fire inside you erupts into a great blue star
transforming the carbon in your ribs into your
diamond heart,
melting your golden bones allowing you to change form.

For Darling Dragon Blue,

It is HE. that should fear you.

Darling Dragon Blue.

Matt Klotz Jun 2013
I take a cigarette break to the beach at 2AM every time i'm on the graveyard shift. The whole atmosphere of being at the edge of a continent with an endless body of water living and breathing in front of you is emotional. When the sea is calm and the tide is low it feel like you can relax, listen to the tide rippling off the rocks and it soothes the soul. When the tide is high and the sea is rough you realize the pure power of the ocean. I imagine the lives previously taken by the merciless sea, engulfing ships and crashing into mountains and piers, cities, lighthouses, residences, and boat yards. Unforgiving, and yet, majestic she is responsible for more life than we can fathom. A whole different part of our world we have such minimal access to. I look out into her endless brilliance as the wind warns me of her presence. Blasting the smell of salt onto my skin, as i take long breathes with ease. The ocean is wise, she has been here much longer then i have and has experienced loss, life, tragedy, war, ******, and survival. Nobody's around at 2AM, just me and her. Every night she gives me the same feeling, like a women you love but cant control, a free spirit, wild for her own pleasure, thirsty for love and affection but resilient to the idea of being confined. For you can not control the one who manipulates you. I am being manipulated by the sea. As i exhale my last puff i walk back inside to work. "Ill see you tomorrow".
KM Jones Aug 2010
Allow me to be bold- brave prying eyes and bare all. Allow me to tamper with excommunication- to tempt ostracism- to tease trouble by talking of taboos... speaking of shushed subjects- oh, society's little secrets, the ones we're all willing to share. Allow me to expound on the lessons parents never wanted to teach- the lessons children are so eager to learn. The very act- the very word- that induces giggles, inspires poets, excites lovers, and makes or breaks "true bliss."

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns." -V.N  

***- a word constructed of three of the twenty-six letters that make the English language go round. On their own, quite harmless, but collectively- a jaw-dropping, blush-inspiring, shush-provoking combination. ***- the ultimate caricature of love and all that is romantic- oh, just look at this tangle of thorns. Tangled- because we have turned the beauty into a beast- taken "the two will become one"- and rationalized- two will always be two- Not you, me or me, you. No, nothing bad can come of this.

***- used to make lies beautiful and truth obscured. Sold in society- the promoter of skin- condemned in the church- discouraged as sin. All the while, teenagers are toppling around- neck deep in lust- desperate to be loved- fumbling- tumbling into the open arms of the ultimate outlet. ***- a shallow solution to a deeper problem- a gift given, unwrapped, re-wrapped, and given again. Allow me to attempt to untangle these thorns- when does making love become wrong?

When it makes heroes into harlots and turns the righteous into romantics- when it complicates the uncomplicated? When it manipulates insincerity to seem sincere- liberates itself from simple mathematics, why, the more the merrier, and forgets three's a crowd? Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, allow me to be ridiculed- expose myself as a hypocrite and define: It is when *** is misconstrued as a mere act of "love" that it becomes a crime.
Shalley Jun 2019
A world that everyone wished for
A world where extraordinary things exist
A world where anyone is believed to be powerful
And it's the fantasy world

Fantasy, fantasy, fantasy
Yes, it's just a fantasy
Made by person with great imagination
And it's so sad to think that it's only an illusion

What can we do if we are living in this world
Where anyone is being bullied
Being discriminated
Being underestimated
Where anybody treat each other like animals

Yes, it is very complicated
But that's what reality is
That's the world we are living right now
Crimes are everywhere...
And technology manipulates people
That's the truth, and it hurts.

How I wish that Fantasy world exists
Where anyone can make impossible things possible
Where everything seems to be perfect and incredible
But then again, it's so sad to think
That Fantasy will never be Reality
DC raw love Dec 2014
As she whispers
Razor into my ears

It cuts straight to my heart
As she manipulates me

She say's she loves me
As she stabs my heart

Then she twists it in
As she steals my heart

She guides me with a leash
She says you better listen

She plays these games
That crush my heart

Why does she do this
Do this to me

Why do I live
This life of misery
It does happen
Viseract Sep 2016
Bubbles and smoke
Wavering flames and twisting, spiralling water
Like two tornadoes of varying temperature and temperament,
And equal as different the opposing elements
Earth and air lay dormant as I lay,
By the visions that my very mind manipulates into my reality
K Eaglechild Aug 2017
"Mom?" I whisper, your bedroom door slowly creaks open
Pill bottles still clutter around your nightstand along with
Your blue journal with a family photo of us glued to the front page.
My mind manipulates me, toys with my vision; hallucinations
Your bedroom is now bleak, bitter, a cloud of sadness above it
You're favorite blanket is still sprawled out on your perfect bed,
untouched and cold.
I'm afraid to touch it 'cause it was your favorite thing in this world.. I creep over to your bed, "Mom?" I wait for answer.
My fingers touch the softness of your blanket, memories appear like an adrenaline rush and the sadness accelerates.
I fling it over myself. It still smells like you.
I lay in your bed, wrapped in your fleece blanket, shuddering.
"Mom?" I whimper.
I remimince the sounds of your soft and loving voice, calming me
"My baby girl", "I love you", "I'm sorry".
I peek my head out from my bundle of comfort.
Reaching for the framed picture on your nightstand
Healthy, happy, full of life.
Last time I saw you, your eyes were puffy, your face was pale, your voice barely passed as a whisper.

Now, I lay here helplessly,
A empty bottle of pills inside my bitter cold hands.
Mom, please take me home.

"Mom?" I call out in the midst of your room. Everything around me fading to black..

"Hey baby girl." She finally answers back.
Written for my acquaintance.
Geno Cattouse Jun 2013
Unrepentant with a hole in her soul
The brass faced liar has steely control
Nothing fazez her. no fib was too big or small. Man this girl was a smooth criminal and a really close acquaintance

She would give a polygraph the shakes
and it's our little secret. umm, Mom and dad know.
family secret.

I reversed engineered the brass faced liar
and all the tumblers clicked.

The truth to her is like Kryptonite to Superman.
I dropped a small stone down her throat one day and counted to ten
before it hit bottom with a far away clunk..

Faceof brass ,heart of stone.animal rescuer
Liar to the bone. Manipulates children poor self esteem
Brass faced liar isn't what she seems.

Out.  To impress now.finally starting to dress now
Drawing flys like rotten meat.

Wicked comes in all shapes and sizes
Turn back the covers,know what your surprize is ?.

A zombie in a guilded mask.
Long dead and putrid..a walking talking husk.

Lies pour out of her mouth like green blowflies
And crawl back in under her disguise.
To fester.
Brass face jester
T J W Nov 2018
a stare to get what you want
a gaze that manipulates
a seduction that will always leave you wanting more
a demon dressed as a daydream
evil disguised as elegance
Red will win everytime
it will entice you
play with you
control you
pierce your soul
you will never understand red
it will dominate you
a fire you can't help but fall into
Red bites your lips with only the eyes
a confidence you wish you had
Red will get you everytime
Jay M Wong Jun 2012
The heavenly, upon the mortal earth, they gracefully fall,
Be it the burdened Oak leaves fiercely stripped of all.
For upon the ground do these golden items lay a’peace,
But surely does such great flare and color cease.
And surely will, what once golden, now deceased, rot and fade,
Giving way to the diet of worms to consume, ‘til it decayed,

For it is winter that draws a’near this dreadful season,
The abandoned of life around is but the resulting reason.
Before the heavenly sheet masks the lonesome land,
Before the clouded skies return its fated demand,
Fly, fly, must these cherished birds to the South,
The directions, to each other must they then mouth.

Oh, to be’st the bird, should we all greatly wish,
Employed not, yet only to feed upon its dish.
And only to have the needs that truthfully count,
That of which are life, food, and shelter we all discount,
Beclouded, must we as the greatest individuals be,
Ungrateful for the things that we have been given free.

And so, must we mask our needs with things we pretend,
Are of greater value than those we should really commend.
But yes, a lonesome bird needs not to think nor fear,
Of its faithful future that slowly creeps a’near.

For a bird needs not to worry about fulfilling its dream,
To be’st alive is but a greater gift than those extreme,
Until he who thinks the greatest individual is himself draws near,
And from their body and soul must apart he tear.
To hold the trophy of the superior being,
Must those of inferiority lay rest or fleeing.

Oh, to be a bird is but a greatful and heavenly life,
Free of humanly constructs acting as both blade and knife,
That tears and shed and manipulates the human soul,
Forcing one to live beneath the abysmal hellish hole.
Free of that treacherous label of both race and class,
Free from that stamp of color and wealth and belief, alas.
Free from the tortures that upon themselves humans place.
Free from the superior mind that games itself as disgrace.
Free from the jealousy that roots in one,
When another finds of a greater sum.
Free from the troubles that root in the Earthly land nigh,
For upon the Heavens may these birds undoubtedly fly.

And to fly a’South, is all that these birds gracefully do,
So to the treacherous North, do they bid their adieu.
A poem on the misfortunes of human society.
Shaqui Scott Dec 2013
Perception, keep it far from me it means nothing…
The chemical imbalance…
distorts, rearranges, changes, and manipulates what’s real.
What’s reality?
Sleep, slumber my long lost friend, we once spent countless nights journeying the deep depths of my conscience and subconscious mind,
to places of pure ecstasy
Now we meet only when the black outs come
I guess there aren’t dreams when you die.
I take in more death.
I dig deeper into nothing to try and find something.
Nothing is all I find,
ran out
there is something there
the white canvas is blank,
but I see…
I touch enlightenment as I soar through space,
my white canvas has become stars,
Life is all perception
keep perception far from me it means nothing
just pass me the death. Inhalation.
The sweet death fills my lungs, and takes hold of my soul.

My perception is a layer of my intelligence.
I can cease to perceive and still exist.
I hear vibrations at moving frequencies that can not be quantified,
I visualize images that can’t be personified,
I smell the aura and aroma of pure existence,
I feel the texture of objects beneath my flesh,
and I taste life on the tip of my tongue,
the taste of loss,
peace, and enlightenment.
I am living, but I am dead. Inhalation. I breathe in death.
I breathe it all the way to my soul.
My body shutters.
Time fades in and out.
I no longer perceive I only exist.
Words' Worth Jul 2019
Someone's got it, the glancing star is at bliss
You stuck around and it showed in your dancing in the petrichor of sudden starved preaching and feeling
Thy say I shorting my way in the life for winners of the immunity pin
The reality showed me peace, the passersby were eerily in the indolent about immolating themselves in burning risqueness
In your treats with cotton candy and the pulses of the pleasure drops
And the rapacious circus rang the bell of the repeated ensemble
Of raucous laughter, everything has to be political when you make bellicose blondes in the visions of curtains in your room
Clowned in the foolish day, the sun still how to reach me in disease
Pretention is the greatest presentable symptom of miscommunication with self was winding up for a start
I fly like bilingual, and prying into the side of the lull of the power of the fool in the tangled feud, I need a girl for loving my laugh
Pleasantly, certainly yours and of course, I used a little too much force and I resigning fighting my way through this crowd
You probably understand that I embued some love for the faltering remorse
Looking for someone lost in a crowd
Poe said you're black as the cat
Crossing the street
This is no regret
Plausible deniability and the billing is so clear, and the reading is so pompous and overrated and the laces of childish shoes
Get the milk from the next door south
I went with the bullish look in the *****
And the rage in her countenance full of misery
The spilled milk meant that it was a news boom
Went in pilfering all the newspapers under a lone streetlamp for movement of moving tears
Your people are suffering, but, still don't know how to preach
You reap the education of the sold out, and the mending ways and weltering of the piped hot iron
The compost was full of iron and gun powder
The seed germinated slightly tasteless on my mind
And the singing windy signs took away the cotton cotyledon in the breeze
The success is for other people leaving you in the worst of your times
For the next vacation, you can have a good life without my memories
Tumbled by boiling blood
The flesh and blood, stuck to the bones to the lord
The feet of the lotus, and the getting in the mud
I live my life with never thinking about the most eloquent book of poems
Although, I live in the belligerent era of poems of resolve and truly jaded and delinquently dusted and kept on reconciliatory idiot's shelf
You're left on the frescoed streets of wandering like a nomad selling the storm its gain and living in his stride and rabble and babbling in the fall of the era
Of a fallen human, and a fan no more, and the grimace of the stoic solidarity rang in his soul
Hell, felt alive
Better to arrive lost
That's freewill
The blows and I still did not die
In life often of honesty, there are some cutting you
And sometime's a place of a tainted phlegmatic nature
Cashing out his oblong church clergy, and the existential philosophy might be breaking down the altruism of Buddhist and Christians in a bar together
Too bad, none of them drink, but, they grew closer over the agreement that alcohol was meaningless
Unless you hadn't observed the entire human race intoxicated by the beauty of the thirteenth-century poetry brought you in this dust of more words
Then have a lack of people to oppose it at the very last, filibustering the argument of the blowing wind in the gestalt of this
Words are barren, as the winds that blow in dusty forests
Likewise, the specs of time fall through these lifeless particles of mankind
Hindering and calling someone an idiot, and the perfidy of all the hellish doubt
The talk went down on the south of the majority bringing forth talk of real changes
And the predeliction of prepossessing promises of probable chaotic causality,  circumstances are for indemnity from the prisoner's dilemma
We will never have that pelican of possible doubt
Petulant about the food all around
Picking up on those signals
As a simple man, I saw the ligature of the sculpted eyes
Of the niggardly picking up the leniency through the signed autograph
Head in the cloud left my limousine, stepped on the gasoline
And the peach diesels are all across the streetlamps customized for the stolid heaven of riding the roads which are meant for a moniker taking the molly out of your ecstatic pockets
Your drugs are under your eyes, and let's not talk about the brunt psychedelia of this crimson red Andalusian theology that makes half our rain in Spain, like the linguistics of pronounced verbs
We are lacking the grammatical error of our ways
And writing in the wrong notebooks
That cause suicide
Studying is like a debt to society
Penury by the following of snipers looking at you with the simple complicit exchange between a warrior and underdog soldier
Is the perfect affair wasn't it, heavy breathing in life as a boy
We cry when we're born, and the laughter comes when the breath is gone
I ain't talking about dying, it's just freeing your passions
The perishing pretentious old presiding rhyme of reasonable doubt, these are the words of fire (pleasant devotion)
While I heed my time and the poetry you wrote for your own lazy humor and nervous curiosity.
That's why they rhyme, and the possibility, for your time is an era
The zeal was everywhere furthermore
For, the present time I like to stick to meters and I'm imprisoned at my loss for words, and the ice of life lit by contrite tridents of doctrines for this life to full of the determined profession of love, and it just becomes indeterminate of how we are really
That's how we usually described literary Zeitgeist, pockets of crumpets falling
In the presence of mind to have ideas better for other poets with a brimming a half-empty cup of tea
With the ponderers had sipped without looking at it, it's good times for the winning ride, what if you don't take one other with you, really?
On the tray, the road had the natural and peace of the streetlights of the modus operandi of the chanting of "Nyum Myo Hum Renge Kyo"
There was some truth in the protest march that woke me up
But, I realized that person's need and spent my religion on the
for righteous life with kindred spirits here in the preferable deposit of penned writing
The darkness on fighting it with darkness in the dingy library of human knowledge in metal brother with ubiquitous knowledge
The hopeful the epiphany is healed by knee-deep kneidel, and the bread we shared with our mothers was the love is to share
Hopeful, the benediction creates some dream, I like the long poems, and I feel for the science that touches
The flow of the person next to you with the same DNA, and manipulates information like you
That keeps me interested, and the verses come from the person inside and precocious teenager in you was a bit of a cry-baby
That likes talking, that's why like haikus as they speak about the Edo-era Japan, you determined people read about the island beyond the land of doubt and the exploration, and the free-flowing verse is linked seamless thought of philosophy
And the 1600s of the Restoration period had some simplicity in lovely complexes
Antediluvian powerful lord in the wide trees in thee hillside, singing the song for the life time
The vital spontaneity has because is in the underweighted children in the valley
A song for the sowing and germinating lackadaisical surmise
The thing that I must ask of you, is how much you like philosophy and life, and you fall to a poem for my fellow writer, how much respect wondering about your coveted convivial feelings I could gather from a pack of sisterhood pacts
Existentially, I am in a place that is metaphorically alive
The life and the religion and the spotlight breaks when a spoken word has shadows of God's metaphorical musical called ballad, poetry is just an essay on song
Don't write it twice, you're sad and done
It's alright, I'm on the darkness on the side of the road
A painting is complete when it has the shadows of God.
Miranda Renea Apr 2012
Hey, look at me.
Skin shown, cleavage down to my toes.
I know how to make them look,
I can make them want.

I'm the heart-breaker,
Twirl you around my perfectly manicured finger,
I know how to  breathe.
I know how to ******.

I'm the girl everyone wants to be.
Perfectly advertised, desirable.
Beauty, intelligence
All pertains to me.

Who am I?
I'm every teenage girl, who
Has no self-esteem.
Who lies, cheats, and manipulates, just to be seen.

And I have a question,
Still want to be me?
Written in 10th grade, a little bit of a different style for me.
Lea Loveit Feb 2015
No matter who I meet
Or how i behave
There are those who cheat
And theres me, who gives all I gave

It still will never be enough
Because i'm not her
I will never have the stuff
Me becoming that girl will never occur

You say it so swiftly
"I wish you can be Mel"
Words flew so quickly
You don't even know how I felt

I'm like a penny
you need more of me
To keep you steady
Enough 'till i'm finally she

I'm just a piece
until you finally mold me
and then you're at peace
But you just can't see

I will never be her
therefore i will never be enough
For you, this is a blur
and i need to get tough

Either it's the ones in a relationship
Wanting a side
Not wanting to be patient
Talking with deception not a lie.

Or it's the ones who want  one thing
and for sure
He's not giving you a ring
Just a walk down the hall to the door

Or the ones who kinda want something genuine
But not with you.  
Although it seems innocent
It isn't and sadly he doesn't give you a clue.

This is what hurt feels like
Getting hit by a car
being left for dead
But not dying.
And you cry to be able to know you're still alive
But you're in pain and have a lot of trauma

But I'm wrong
It's worst than that
Especially when he manipulates and convinces me

It's like things are going so well
and out of no where a hot rock hits your head
and it swells
and now you're half dead

It's definitely like
not being able to sleep
Thinking about it constantly
Who to blame
How to make it feel better
how to move on.

Sleeping less than 2 hours a night
walking around like nothing is bothering you
Living with a weight on you
Something that is such a fright
And nothing you can do

Not getting justice from the law suit
Not being able to help when needed the most
Not being able to save your self
Be restrained from the use of your own-self
To the point where you don't like yourself

Esteem low
How can i grow?

Why does it matter
Why do i care
It only gets me sadder
especially by your stare

I can't be helped,
It won't go away.
I'll let the cuts welt,
It will be almost okay.
Sometimes i change my titles 5 times before submitting like this one. But others, I write a title and stick to it. Others, i write the poem then name it.  But one thing is for sure... THE NAME MATTERS

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