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"mendacious" poems
Sequacious demonstrative mongrel fantastication Overt fantasias and monstrance clarification Rhetorical rote of empirical justification Whimsical enervations elicit ramification Incite legendary fables of rectification Tempestuous mendacious erudite personifications Endemic epistemological semantics of edification Evocative illuminism engenders mortification Judicious spontaneous phantasms of gratification Numinous salutatory statutes of ratification Heuristic existentializing empiricisms alleviate confusion Adamant machismo machinations eliminate delusion Eulogizing enigma entity’s illustrious illusion Torridly allusive revelries of reverie effusion Educing morose maniacal moribundity’s inclusion Epitomizing empathetic revulsions to corroborate elusion Probitous erudite solicitations evade contusion Raunchy riotous accoutrements appreciate exclusion Optimizing subjunctively torpid recalcitrant collusion Scenario syntactics of mythically epic allusion
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Jan 13, 2013
Jan 13, 2013 at 9:23 PM UTC
Dream Divination
Mother's Milk, -feel no Whistles or Bells? A river my poor state of mind, feelings' worded mediocre, Meiotic but I am home. I wish to feel a bit more? To expiate this Trollop! Gibbeted? -or boiled I stew... And finally, yes finally... ...shall I **** the little Gnome? *I SHALL **** THE LITTLE GNOME.* Mendacious not Alone.
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Feb 18, 2018
Feb 18, 2018 at 4:02 AM UTC
Pouring Soured,
Enigma entity’s ethology entelechy as it relates to clairaudience clairvoyance. Everyone has a personal futurity fatidic or existential metaphysique. What we need is a universally acceptable form of id conclusion. Unfortunately we can’t even agree on the social stigmatisms of ego’s expression. We are relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity that succeed in a hierarchy of functionally integrateable forms. There is no functional deontology, even though its visage would seem to portend cogently fecund probity for all. We are not ethereally sublime, we are corporeally preternatural. Objective is individual; obligation to each other is not a mandate. Though many might find it inherently indispensible to some it impedes success. The depths of debauchery this debacle ensues are almost intrinsically endemic to our race. How am I going to get there becomes more important than ‘what are we fighting for’. So, if there’s no unity of purpose how do we decide who we are fighting for. Will it be good for all or lead to oligarchy and subjugation, the seemingly inescapable byproduct of capitalism, the inherent decadence of socialism. It’s times like this that make me love the constitutional fortitude of Americanism. Theoretically I have an inalienable right, hypothetically this leads to anarchy so I’m not allowed to mess with your rights. This is mandate. The republic for which we stand. Mendacious tales of unity, not merely the obstinate tenacities of I, but also the cogent fecundity in the infamous we-ness of us.
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Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 6:04 PM UTC
Mercenary Mendacity
Enigma entity’s ethology entelechy as it relates to clairaudience clairvoyance. Everyone has a personal futurity fatidic or existential metaphysique. What we need is a universally acceptable form of id conclusion. Unfortunately we can’t even agree on the social stigmatisms of ego’s expression. We are relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity that succeed in a hierarchy of functionally integrateable forms. There is no functional deontology, even though its visage would seem to portend cogently fecund probity for all. We are not ethereally sublime, we are corporeally preternatural. Objective is individual; obligation to each other is not a mandate. Though many might find it inherently indispensible to some it impedes success. The depths of debauchery this debacle ensues are almost intrinsically endemic to our race. How am I going to get there becomes more important than ‘what are we fighting for’. So, if there’s no unity of purpose how do we decide who we are fighting for. Will it be good for all or lead to oligarchy and subjugation, the seemingly inescapable byproduct of capitalism, the inherent decadence of socialism. It’s times like this that make me love the constitutional fortitude of Americanism. Theoretically I have an inalienable right, hypothetically this leads to anarchy so I’m not allowed to mess with your rights. This is mandate. The republic for which we stand. Mendacious tales of unity, not merely the obstinate tenacities of I, but also the cogent fecundity in the infamous we-ness of us.
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18
Enigma entity’s ethology entelechy as it relates to clairaudience clairvoyance Everyone has a personal futurity fatidic or existential metaphysique What we need is a universally acceptable form of id conclusion Unfortunately we can’t even agree on the social stigmatisms of ego’s expression We are relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity that succeed in a hierarchy of functionally integrateable forms There is no functional deontology, even though its visage would seem to portend cogently fecund probity for all We are not ethereally sublime, we are corporeally preternatural Objective is individual; obligation to each other is not a mandate Though many might find it inherently indispensible to some it impedes success The depths of debauchery this debacle ensues are almost intrinsically endemic to our race How am I going to get there becomes more important than ‘what are we fighting for’ So, if there’s no unity of purpose how do we decide who we are fighting for Will it be good for all or lead to oligarchy and subjugation, the seemingly inescapable byproduct of capitalism, the inherent decadence of socialism It’s times like this that make me love the constitutional fortitude of Americanism Theoretically I have an inalienable right, hypothetically this leads to anarchy so I’m not allowed to mess with your rights This is mandate The republic for which we stand Mendacious tales of unity, not merely the obstinate tenacities of I, but also the cogent fecundity in the infamous we-ness of us
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Nov 9, 2013
Nov 9, 2013 at 7:25 AM UTC
Mercenary Mendacity
Enigma entity’s ethology entelechy as it relates to clairaudience clairvoyance Everyone has a personal futurity fatidic or existential metaphysique What we need is a universally acceptable form of id conclusion Unfortunately we can’t even agree on the social stigmatisms of ego’s expression We are relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity that succeed in a hierarchy of functionally integrateable forms There is no functional deontology, even though its visage would seem to portend cogently fecund probity for all We are not ethereally sublime, we are corporeally preternatural Objective is individual; obligation to each other is not a mandate Though many might find it inherently indispensible to some it impedes success The depths of debauchery this debacle ensues are almost intrinsically endemic to our race How am I going to get there becomes more important than ‘what are we fighting for’ So, if there’s no unity of purpose how do we decide who we are fighting for Will it be good for all or lead to oligarchy and subjugation, the seemingly inescapable byproduct of capitalism, the inherent decadence of socialism It’s times like this that make me love the constitutional fortitude of Americanism Theoretically I have an inalienable right, hypothetically this leads to anarchy so I’m not allowed to mess with your rights This is mandate The republic for which we stand Mendacious tales of unity, not merely the obstinate tenacities of I, but also the cogent fecundity in the infamous we-ness of us
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18
i. unfiltered asiatic plaything seeks hypoactive cradle technocrat evicting meaningful poach, mendacious transcripts of past events found in his memoryless playhouse. poplar crowd scribbles observations outbound punch of laughter sighs to the scrambled, ethnic postgrad nation. microfiche telegram exploits meaning to deeper courtesies current surrendered upon entry. ii. psychotropic sustenance fizz thru ***** vein corridor secret mission lifestyle learning fast in enormous packs of tiny lies. spew logic chagrin mediated bloodstain; cerebus twitching outside of beingself. iii. heart ceases, sacred whitepaint moans. o infidel, strike thrice; a chord binding us- nasty, ***** beads bleeding rich. cloaked bushes tasting, hisses cured human oaks; tapered horns that sob, casting waved heels. iv. dawn fallen, only concrete possible now. separated by thousands of what is not, shocks disintricate; undwindling patriots mailing lessness, laughter sounds fetching offband pitch.
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Feb 13, 2010
Feb 13, 2010 at 7:11 AM UTC
iv
Seeing such said-to-be veracity made spurious by truer voracity left me in a downward maudlin spiral caught in the gravity of pejorative thoughts. (They were right about you) Shown to be mendacious and meretricious with such audacious and ignominious cupidity that is, apparently, insatiable by external stimulation. These words are for thee. (They were right about you) A Mistress of Verisimilitude Sorceress of Perdition Goddess of  Rapacity Nugatory Luddite Fatuous Epigone Specious and unctuous Girl of gratuitous turpitude These puerile and rather flavorful words fueled by seemingly insuperable motifs arranged in a terse, inimical verse for a rather insipid person who will likely never even know of them, and yet; such sweet felicity.
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Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 2:04 PM UTC
Iterative, Incredulous and Infectious
When looking for a perfect phrase to describe communication today Not just in politics not just in advertising nor just in social news or just in entertainment consider mendacious propaganda Mendacious the adjective With many synonyms For telling lies Put together with propaganda One has a shell bomb A barn-burner of a phrase For spreading rumors, Passing on false information And trying to influence others Mendacious propaganda is like A morning misting settling on the grass Dew blankets everything Likewise information Fake is called real Real is called fake Newspapers have A column to check the fakes To tell you which print You might trust
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Feb 22, 2020
Feb 22, 2020 at 7:43 AM UTC
Mendacious propaganda
Mirrored thought full breach horizon Yearning drawing bridging cry Intimate complete attraction Now the moment true imply Cast aside mendacious forethought Resolute round purpose fly Epiphanic thought emerging Doubts foul gibbous banish say .... Insp’ration resolute within here Bursting forth bright intellect Loosing dogs full purpose forward Encroaching far reach treaded path Resolute’ness biting grasping Endless boundless seeming lost Blazing purposeful grasp grimly Energise strong inner soul Capa’bil’ity strong purpose Clear thought con’quering foul Abandon dissolute mist darkness Intersperse directive steer Levelling where once lay mountains Onward pushing prancing laugh Voices raised fair joyous chorus Ethereal reaching hands entwine Yearning warmth transcending distance Over hill and Moorland track Understand where strength in thought lay Accomplishment find perfect peace
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Sep 8, 2010
Sep 8, 2010 at 5:15 AM UTC
Encouragement
My ribcage shatters apart to expose  Splintering fragments of brittle bone I scrape them up into a pile  Offer them to you with a smile Carving into this sordid heart of mine With ink spilled from the grip of your fingertips It spells the words I've never heard Uttered from the sinister curls of your lips And the lusting lick of your desire across my death bed of wilted roses I feel your hunger devouring what's left of mine to give Your kisses I repress with my tongue But I'll give in until you're done  I'll beg for more down on knees with prayers  when our course has had its run into the immolation of the sun We'll end our affairs and leave it unrepaired  dwelling in the darkness that we've built upstairs I fall into your black tracing scars upon your attack I feel the bones break in your back When we collapse our arms around ourselves Holding tight into a mendacious night seething with tumultuous roars  Our bellies hungrily ache for each others' taste We satiate ourselves until the early whisper of dawn  Leaving our scars in scraps of flesh and song The bite of your bitterness sings along So tattered I leave beside you So shattered I break inside you  So torn to be reborn without you We mourn the morning of our scorn Pressing it into the palms of our hands Pushing deeper this belly ache of rotten thoughts and perceptions Those secret discretions buried clear in our deceptions and flatlined intentions We have lived this life we give with smoldered chances rendered Not a moment to spare for the tired or mentored Guided by the guilty jilted mistakes of our indiscretions Our hands are bathed in the blood of our love  It takes every ounce of me not to give in to reminiscing of missing what we're dismissing We're lost searching with no profound calling to take hold of our hands and lead us into the light just speechless apparitions given into desperations of heartache and failure  seeking a savior to release this pressure building inside the beating of our entwined hearts
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Aug 23, 2012
Aug 23, 2012 at 10:46 AM UTC
Don't Stand Too Close To Prophets From Missouri
My ribcage shatters apart to expose  Splintering fragments of brittle bone I scrape them up into a pile  Offer them to you with a smile Carving into this sordid heart of mine With ink spilled from the grip of your fingertips It spells the words I've never heard Uttered from the sinister curls of your lips And the lusting lick of your desire across my death bed of wilted roses I feel your hunger devouring what's left of mine to give Your kisses I repress with my tongue But I'll give in until you're done  I'll beg for more down on knees with prayers  when our course has had its run into the immolation of the sun We'll end our affairs and leave it unrepaired  dwelling in the darkness that we've built upstairs I fall into your black tracing scars upon your attack I feel the bones break in your back When we collapse our arms around ourselves Holding tight into a mendacious night seething with tumultuous roars  Our bellies hungrily ache for each others' taste We satiate ourselves until the early whisper of dawn  Leaving our scars in scraps of flesh and song The bite of your bitterness sings along So tattered I leave beside you So shattered I break inside you  So torn to be reborn without you We mourn the morning of our scorn Pressing it into the palms of our hands Pushing deeper this belly ache of rotten thoughts and perceptions Those secret discretions buried clear in our deceptions and flatlined intentions We have lived this life we give with smoldered chances rendered Not a moment to spare for the tired or mentored Guided by the guilty jilted mistakes of our indiscretions Our hands are bathed in the blood of our love  It takes every ounce of me not to give in to reminiscing of missing what we're dismissing We're lost searching with no profound calling to take hold of our hands and lead us into the light just speechless apparitions given into desperations of heartache and failure  seeking a savior to release this pressure building inside the beating of our entwined hearts
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Enigma entity’s ethology entelechy as it relates to clairaudience clairvoyance Everyone has a personal futurity fatidic or existential metaphysique What we need is a universally acceptable form of id conclusion Unfortunately we can’t even agree on the social stigmatisms of ego’s expression We are relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity that succeed in a hierarchy of functionally integrateable forms There is no functional deontology, even though its visage would seem to portend cogently fecund probity for all We are not ethereally sublime, we are corporeally preternatural Objective is individual; obligation to each other is not a mandate Though many might find it inherently indispensible to some it impedes success The depths of debauchery this debacle ensues are almost intrinsically endemic to our race How am I going to get there becomes more important than ‘what are we fighting for’ So, if there’s no unity of purpose how do we decide who we are fighting for Will it be good for all or lead to oligarchy and subjugation, the seemingly inescapable byproduct of capitalism, the inherent decadence of socialism It’s times like this that make me love the constitutional fortitude of Americanism Theoretically I have an inalienable right, hypothetically this leads to anarchy so I’m not allowed to mess with your rights This is mandate The republic for which we stand Mendacious tales of unity, not merely the obstinate tenacities of I, but also the cogent fecundity in the infamous we-ness of us
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Dec 9, 2015
Dec 9, 2015 at 3:30 PM UTC
Mercenary Mendacity re-post
Enigma entity’s ethology entelechy as it relates to clairaudience clairvoyance Everyone has a personal futurity fatidic or existential metaphysique What we need is a universally acceptable form of id conclusion Unfortunately we can’t even agree on the social stigmatisms of ego’s expression We are relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity that succeed in a hierarchy of functionally integrateable forms There is no functional deontology, even though its visage would seem to portend cogently fecund probity for all We are not ethereally sublime, we are corporeally preternatural Objective is individual; obligation to each other is not a mandate Though many might find it inherently indispensible to some it impedes success The depths of debauchery this debacle ensues are almost intrinsically endemic to our race How am I going to get there becomes more important than ‘what are we fighting for’ So, if there’s no unity of purpose how do we decide who we are fighting for Will it be good for all or lead to oligarchy and subjugation, the seemingly inescapable byproduct of capitalism, the inherent decadence of socialism It’s times like this that make me love the constitutional fortitude of Americanism Theoretically I have an inalienable right, hypothetically this leads to anarchy so I’m not allowed to mess with your rights This is mandate The republic for which we stand Mendacious tales of unity, not merely the obstinate tenacities of I, but also the cogent fecundity in the infamous we-ness of us
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There was an Old Person from Gretna, Who rushed down the crater of Etna; When they said, 'Is it hot?' He replied, 'No, it's not!' That mendacious Old Person of Gretna.
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There Was An Old Person From Gretna
Smoldering reminders of fragrant release Rattle my windows and doors While delicate tendrils of thirsty lingering peace Lie scattered splendidly upon the floors Patient virtue gently ripples and plays No fault is found to be Me-thinks mendacious thoughts away Shattering holds on me Draw in close and smell peace smoldering here Dishonesty, has flown away Finding the thirst of lingering peace sincere When virtue ripples and plays Deliberate untruths can lock down windows Shut close, every door However, thirsty lingering peace remains a foe Waiting patiently upon the floor
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Sep 30, 2010
Sep 30, 2010 at 6:50 PM UTC
The Thirst of Peace
that's how callously compassionate and vainly godly humanity has become under the Oligarchy. nice men and women of all five colours, sitting around comfortably in alcoholic stupidity, with their thumbs up their bums, trying so hard to keep shtum, about the undeniable fact that they cant drum up a drop of *** between them. Seriously babbling religiously godly nonsense, wreathed in smelly Tobacco smoke mimicking incense, abandoning pretense at conscience, hating empowering commonsense, lacking all  but nonsense. with the mien of morticians and the mendacious psychobabble of politicians and the inspired madness of medical technicians making badly placed cerebral incisions and worst of all supporting oligarchy inspired decisions. About the "end  of  days and nights" being put up for offers on the  "free market".
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Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 12:37 PM UTC
Shallow,Inconsequential,murderous and "nice".
A glow shining from the inside out As beautiful as the purple magnolias of Asia Yet as rare as a bright orange Alaskan sunset So long separated by time and distance I almost do not recognize the vision set before me Reality with the ability to transform Distrusting my eyes Afraid they may conspire to betray me To lead me to the path of blunder Surrendering me to lies and ruin Outward perception distorted by fear Is it the meadow of flowers I paint in my dreams? A winsome smile forces my lips to part Thoughts of pleasant changes captured within me I am unable to free them but doubt still lingers Apprehensive of the mendacious nature of my heart She unwittingly deceives Loves without regard to reciprocation She dominates I am no match for her strength I am subject to her will Mental chains of steel I use to restrain But the arrows of cupid still calls The beauty of two beings intertwined beckons A longing to live in the painted canvas Perfect hues, perfect shades
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Aug 11, 2010
Aug 11, 2010 at 7:05 AM UTC
Dancing Butterflies
you're taller now body curves filled in the right places and your hair falls with the utmost ease they start to notice you now they want to kiss you, please you, love you and all you want to do is grow fangs razor sharpe that can tear out their eyes those same eyes that judge you with maligner calling on you through licentious demons you want to fight back now demonstrate your fortitude you are woman you are maker you can't bare to see ****** oppression you're uncomfortable now as he touches your thigh slowly groping your *** making way up he sees it as a peccadillo you see it as your fault you can't look at yourself now you are not woman, human, living you are dead now filled with malaise becoming a malefactor to your own soul you are no longer you now a mendacious being, only lying to yourself to save yourself when all you are is no more.
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Nov 12, 2013
Nov 12, 2013 at 10:24 PM UTC
Peccadillo
the pinnacle of childhood comes with the symphony of adolescence. the realization that life is evanescent, the breaking of cyclical routine, catalyzing the bittersweet epiphany of long-awaited nirvana. no longer blithe and naïve, quaff from the chalice of clemency until intoxicated with the notion of no longer being in limbo. the mendacious oblivion of childhood evaporates, lifting the veil of soporific innocence, all traces of puerility gone. come, enter the province of adulthood, and live as a free soul, no longer required to conform to the standards of ascetics.
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Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 1:04 PM UTC
moving past neverland
Speak to me of your daily whims Of your recurring nightmares Of your vague dreams Of your subdued thoughts Speak to me of the blinding sunlight Of the watchful moon Of the loquacious stars Of the mendacious night sky Speak to me of the blossoming flowers Of the condescending trees Of the dainty birds Of the cool breeze Speak to me of unsung novels Of the rejected songs Of the smashed guitars Of the obnoxious trumpets Speak to me of your distant memories Of your hopeless aspirations Of your unappreciated efforts Of your seemingly insignificant presence Speak to me of taboo perspectives Of shunned personalities Of existing gods Of modern society Speak to me of the inexplicable suffering Of your death desires Of your unheard cries Of your weakening heart Speak to me of unending love Of blazing flames Of transient emotions Of eternal scars Speak. Speak to me. Please speak to me. Speak to me of anything. I need to hear your voice. The silence is unsettling.
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Aug 11, 2014
Aug 11, 2014 at 9:30 AM UTC
Day 13 // 08.12.14
“SHAME ON YOU” By: F. Panerio Shame on you! Charlatan Shame on you! Phony Shame on you! Hoax Shame on you! Larceny Shame on you! Debauched Shame on you! Mendacious Shame on You! Superciliousness Shame on You! Snootiness Shame on You! Scoundrel Shame on you! And shame on me! If we both alike!
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Jun 24, 2010
Jun 24, 2010 at 6:56 PM UTC
SHAME ON YOU
A narrow path leads my way. Little did I know I would end up astray. For what they have told you is mendacious. nothing else could give them that sensation. That validation. That hydration for their unquenchable thirst. So believe me when I say this, it isn’t the first. Don’t always take the obvious route. They will approach you with their knout.
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Apr 20, 2019
Apr 20, 2019 at 10:39 PM UTC
Friendship in my eyes
You said it might be a bit uncomfortable That it feels like a little scratch Or perhaps it's like a bee sting But then you start to latch My **** into something Described as a gentle squeeze .... But I wish that you'd be honest And just tell me please Your ***** I'm going to pummel Stick them with 8 inch pins Crush them into vices Then hammer iron nails in And then when you've reached The end of your tether I'll smile sweetly & tell you You might feel under the weather .....!! Well the lies they don't help In any way or fashion It wouldn't **** you, you know To show me some compassion Well I tell you what Here's my little joke I'm going to punch you in the face It'll feel like a gentle stroke ....! (C) Pixievic (C) Pixievic
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May 8, 2016
May 8, 2016 at 6:46 AM UTC
Mendacious Medic
Wake me from this mask of opaque dreams Cryptic in their defective cause Suspend the flutter of my pointless adoration For all these defensive walls Eliminate delusions and impetuous desires Which provoke my spirit negatively Induce exhilarating fervor in my waking dreams Softly apportion the one inside of me Deliver patience as you listen for my nearness Impart no distresses here Reconsider any mendacious notions Do not claim me in your fears Show compassion as my eyes are open wide Not suspicious and yet so knowing Take heed in your watch as sometimes I stumble In my attempts to get where I am going
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Jul 18, 2010
Jul 18, 2010 at 1:12 PM UTC
Apportion
Our worlds were mixed like a glove with the perfect fit until I fell away into demons that were only there to satiate a temporary fix, and now that I have broken free of their chains I can accept the mendacious nature of my past apologies; now I can encapsulate how dreamers sometimes forget to breathe So I’ll keep watching the way you float in detached grace not only for you, but also for me: it’s no longer child’s play, there is no more blinking in regard to capturing the ascension we need, in regard to securing your heart and faith Like water in my veins answers are converging with my bones- I want to re-assess that fitment, to be your wholesome trace and hold onto our sacredness until it is in togetherness where we embrace the ever pulling unknown
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Sep 19, 2025
Sep 19, 2025 at 11:15 PM UTC
Safety in Chaos
Snow flakes falling in the abyss Cold antic whispers of sin The frozen trail deaths finger tips leave across your soul Mendacious eyes in the dark A crook of a finger Leads you farther into the dark Hand in hand with the beast with wings of the angles Satans halo warped and bloodied Stains of the sinners sins on his robe Evil lays in wake, but slumbers deeply Hope is running out Tick of the cracked face clock The night of an eclipse Alls dark for a few seconds ****** a few innocents Corrupt them Then consume
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Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 10:44 PM UTC
Evils near
Don't let those serenades Leave you in a carefree reverie Though the sound so sweet It's a deceiver's simple melody Swooned by devious motives Your mind lacking common reason Though the motives are mendacious Your trust sees no treason The warning signs are prolific Appearing right before your eyes Listen before your tears fall down Like cruel raindrops from the skies
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Apr 20, 2010
Apr 20, 2010 at 5:44 PM UTC
Your Trust Sees No Treason
Fake propaganda as news only fools those it's meant to confuse. There is wrong, there is right when you're left in the light of a nation with little to lose.
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Jul 25, 2017
Jul 25, 2017 at 8:13 PM UTC
Mendacious Limerick