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Arke Oct 2018
it would take
78 antidepressant pills or
60 mg of nicotine or
11 lbs of pasta or
4 bottles of wine or
2 minutes of carbon monoxide or
a single text message

to make my heart stop entirely
Begging you, Sterling Mentor of the Card
Patient and Calm are your Methods in-check
May I take this Learner to Living afar
Bespoke my Efforts and Services are met
For if I noticed this Lack-of-Command
Married to sane Verbs I try to absorb
Even out of Bounty; Trust be at Hand
To remember such Stubbled Skills I bore
This is an Artist-on-High. That which speaks
With Curried Words much tempting to forget
At expense of Duty is no longer meek
And my Salt's Wager now easy to forget.
Bear me Calm. I can adopt to re-learn
The Blue Eagle's shriek which can eat the Worm.
Andrew Jun 2017
These optical illusions
Create an optimal confusion
When eyes are a welcome intrusion
To the brain's inevitable conclusion

We stared into the mystic mirror
I witnessed everything I ever wanted in life
All you witnessed was just two people standing there
The transparency you cast upon me
Reminded me of how the plumes of **** smoke
Were never as thick as my problems
And as those clouds left my mouth and dispersed into the air
I saw your image
Preserved in briefness

It's a shame how my magician's mind
Summons smoke and mirrors
Nobody else believes me
But magic is the only way to explain you
The way you turned me invisible
Was spectacular
Your methods of sawing me in half
Certainly weren't natural
And your teleportation demonstration
Left me suspended in ice
So I guess I'm to Blaine
For the mirrors I erected
And the truth they reflected
Because now I'm lost
In what I refuse to call a funhouse
As I search frantically for some ancient tomb
That might reveal your brilliant incantations
Attempting to ignore the horrid revelation
That every spell I learned
Had been based in your arcane aura
And all the power I had gained
Had been based in your enchantment

I want a magician
Not an illusionist
So what does it mean when your illusions are so magical?
karin naude Nov 2013
the veil
me, captivated from 1st introduction
expression of character
extension of the wearer
women forced to express, communicate, and develop new communication methods
limited with resources reveal, the eyes
they reveal what the mouth dare not speak
deviance, love, hate, pain, or dead soul
they connect between souls effortlessly
only seconds needed to be edged into my mind
to echo eternity
often forgetting the owner, remembering the moment
piercing eyes revealing life lived, dreams forgotten and compromised made

on the other side
i long to see the smile or grin belonging to the eyes
long to connect verbally to know what created the captivating eyes
walking down the street i long, search for :
the thing that makes us human
how we recognise each other
how species compare

the face
Andrew Jun 2017
Somewhere in the forest
There is a paradise
Hidden in a circus tent
Blocked by a bramble thicket

There are ways we want to live
And ways we must live
But a spectrum is discovered
When the way we must live
Diminishes the way we want to live
And the way we want to live
Dictates the way we must live

We eat and then ****
Life tastes adequate when we're dining
So we keep feeding
Our appetite becomes insatiable
We devour what opportunity grants us
Ignoring the rumbling in our stomachs
Until we must face the unpleasantness of our waste
Even when we're wise enough to know the effects of eating
We continue eating
Learning minor methods of mitigating damage to digestion
It becomes hard to swallow
That this is all it takes to be human
As humanity's power becomes planetary
Meals turn to feasts
And **** piles up
As the rancid fumes plague us with mental monsters
We yearn for a simpler time
When rations were the size of a sunflower seed
And excrement exited as ethereal gas
An age that never existed

The way I wanted to live became the way I had to live
But now that I'm living the way I have to
I can't tell the difference between what I want and what I need
I guess that could be a good thing
Because the space between what I want and what I got
Is where fulfillment is found
Kenji Dec 2018
I try to hold these secrets inside me, I try to keep everything locked within me...
Like a misguided key that is lost, and is being searched by others.
They say I am hard to read, but I can see through them like glass, they reflect on me as I reflect on them, a soul of a mirror, I keep my twins within, through the promiscuous looking glass.
With this strange inability to voice out my emotions, I keep everything that suffocates me, to myself.
My minds like a ****** deadly disease with no shame or lies to hide it.
However, this altering personality has a mind of it's own.
Expressing, but spilling too much, I surrender in regret.
I have no shame in hiding this strange disposition of my deceiving facade, I embrace myself in pure madness as my mind twists in insane obligations.
Defeating, but never defeat-less.
Where are you? Are you here? Come to me, dark lonely serpent, don't fear me
Leave, leave me alone.
Soul aches in mindless misery as I sit and talk to myself, and the unknown.
These spirits and forces suggest I'm living a lie and it isn't home.
These lucid dreams I have every night give me messages, and signs.
Some dreams are paranormal and realistic like a spirit is trying to speak through to me to get to the known dimensions to be seen, to be heard.
But some dreams are just vivid escapism methods to wonder other dimensions.
I see everything in my perceptive dreams, even in the conscious, the world we see to think to be real.
I see the child's tears as his mother stabs his dad in vicious anger.
I see the animal's wimper and sorrow as it limps in agony being tortured it's whole life, just searching, and searching for food.
I see the beggars dead eyes as drugs has overtaken their pure mind, the loss of hope, but I still see something pure, screaming to jump out.
I see the maids strength as they battle working days and days, getting underpaid and never seeing their family just to hustle and make money.
I see the lawyers fight for moral justice and integrity as the case has been lost, yet, they keep on fighting, they never give up.
I see the business mans wife drink wine alone all day just waiting for her husband to come home, but he's busy ******* his secretary.
I see the birds squeal in pain as its wing has broke, and no one coming to it's presence to help it.
I see my sick grans soulless eyes as Dementia  has overtaken her and she lives in permanent confusion thinking her brother whom died 20 years ago, is still alive.
I see, I see everything.
With a strong Moon in Pisces energy, this perceptive mind is never at rest. It's still fighting to love so unconditionally and help everyone at my feet.
I bleed, I ache, I scar, I cry, I surrender, and, these are my reasons for needing to hide.
With a mind of such empathy, I battle even helping myself.
But this is my insight, as a spiritual teacher.
I will die helping the unwanted...
I will die spreading love and justice...
I will die in lonely misery...
And I will die knowing my life made sense if those I sacrificed for, was all worth, the pain
...
Moon in Pisces:
-Emotional
-Intuitive
-Dreamy
-Empathetic
-Helpful
-Spiritual
Ana Jul 9
End
Life intolerable
Death inevitable
Desires insatiable
Things unreal

Words unspoken
Evil awoken
Vows art broken
Pain, thou feel

Fearless leaders shamefully hiding
Within cowards, still confiding
Helpless people slowly dying
Horrors thou hast never seen

Demons unleashed from their cages
Hellish, endless fire rages
Now unto the end of ages
Sins of all the world run free

Acts unthinkable
Power unimaginable
Disease incurable
Rots our souls

Gates of Wrath
Flank Satan’s path
Splitting in half
All he controls

Bowing to our God eternal
Pray to leave this world infernal
Careful not to wake nocturnal
Monsters of abysmal night

No response art thou receiving
Being led by hope deceiving
Finally, art thou perceiving
No escape, for all wilt die

Torture endless
Methods boundless
Leave thou breathless
Still afraid

Pain unending
Death descending
Hand extending
But betrayed

In this hellscape, thou art living
Only in the flesh existing
Forever art souls suffering
From the carnage surrounding thee

Abominations now released
To feed on fear and the deceased
Destruction shalt never be ceased
Souls ****** for all eternity
I wrote this from the notion of the end of the world...
Terry O'Leary Jan 2014
as the PROPHETS of profits, WE lead and WE’re fair
while WE’re living the life of the poor BILLIONAIRE
– silver yachts, pearly castles, cash (plenty to spare) –
with the world on OUR backs... ah! the burdens WE bear!

being HAVES (not the have-nots) as nature decrees
means WE’re certainly the better (they’re vermin on ******).
if they pray for a lift in their dark fantasies,
WE just kick ’em downstairs, get ’em off of their knees.

yes, WE offer great jobs (much too busy OURSELVES!)
for maintaining the toilets, restacking the shelves,
and WE teach ’em to fear god and play with the elves,
thus dispelling ideas where the dark demon delves.

though they build mighty bridges, twin towers and more,
peddle pizzas and popcorn, sell guns door-to-door,
still they gotta have BOSSES to tell ’em the score
else WE’d never be needed, WE’d thrive nevermore.

when OUR profits are plunging, they do their part too
for they dine on the dole! yes, no hullabaloo!
soon OUR fortunes  redouble, rebound and accrue –
since WE fare well without ’em, WE bid ’em adieu.

’stead of wishing for welfare and standing in queues
or parading with pickets (look! holes in their shoes!),
they’d be better off scabbing to save union dues.
while WE whistle and warble, they’re singing the blues.

whether heroes or hoboes, like spiders and lice
they just crawl all around us in life’s paradise,
but WE’re patient, big hearted and oft sacrifice,
spewing charity, kindness (though each has its price).

if they’re beaten or punctured or suffer assault,
are unhealthy or crippled or walk with a halt,
or ******* or helpless, it’s all their own fault –
just like US they should worship the DOLLAR exalt’!

protesters and loud mouths, you’ll find ’em aplenty
some older, some younger, the worst not yet twenty.
they’re shameless and brazen (unwashed, soiled and scenty)
impugning the prestige of brave COGNOSCENTI.

if they’ve got clashing colors (or shades in between)
or opposing beliefs in the hidden unseen,
well, WE’ll always exploit it, deflecting their spleen,
for with god on each side, would WE dare intervene?

WE maintain many methods to keep ’em in chains –
daily rags and the tube spin OUR circus campaigns:
“to pretend you’ve a voice”, an announcement explains,
“you can vote and decide on which ONE of US reigns”.

OUR policemen protect US, they stay on the ball
(they arrest ’em, no questions per law’s protocol,
and then jam ’em in jail with their backs to the wall) –
if you’ve lucre for lawyers there’s justice for all.

down the ROYAL road of justice WE march all alone
– WE condemn their defiance, set ways to atone –
since WE’re sinless, unsullied, WE cast the first stone
(while WE cloak REGAL fetor with eau de cologne).

politicians, bald bankers, grand idols galore,
attend meetings, fete banquets in which they explore
how to rid US of rodents (the weak and the poor) –
well, just round up the riff-raff, dispatch ’em to war!

ah! OUR wars are, well, just...... just a thing of the past
........... and the present............... and future... WE sure make them last!
if they frown as they gaze (Armageddon!) aghast,
then WE smile back with pleasure, OUR treasures amassed.

useless ranting and raving (in rags, when they’re clad),
leads to losing their teeth (my! their gums are... egad!).
WE’re unselfish, indulgent, WE’d never be mad
if they drowned in the sounds of themselves feeling sad.

as the paupers are princes in midnight’s domain,
they have pipe dreams to lose, certainly nothing to gain
if they’re hoping OUR fortunes will wither and wane –
for “WE’re here by god’s will” as WE often explain.

yes, they wish to be US, with OUR wisdom and grace,
keeping up with ol’ CROESUS, maintaining the pace.  
but perverseness or rancor? they’ll see not a trace –
for WE hold ’em at bay with a fist in the face.

WE’re la CRÈME de la CRÈME, yes! the proud UPPER CRUST,
and OUR clothes are the finest, OUR hair never mussed –
WE imbue ’em with piety, duty and trust
and they’re fed bread and water (if feed ’em WE must).

but they’re thieving, aggrieved, want a piece of OUR PIE
and request WE endure ’em, see EYE to black eye.
since they live in OUR land where OUR strict rules apply,
they must feast on the crumbs that We cast to the sty.

though OUR largesse and bounty WE don’t mean to flaunt,
yet the pittance WE pay ’em they surely can vaunt –
salty peanuts and pretzels (what more could they want?)
thereby keeping their kiddies so healthily gaunt.

yes, there’s room for the rabble (the back of the bus)
’cause WE treat ’em like equals, so what’s all the fuss?
all can rise to the top (yes! it’s always been thus),
to the suites in OUR penthouse (to sweep up and dust).

while OUR CHILDREN have tutors, the finest of schools
(being bred for the forefront, THEY’re nobody’s fools),
their own school of hard knocks teaches: “follow the rules”,
building brawn ’stead of brains and broad backs strong as mules’.

and to keep ’em in line (to ensure WE prevail)
WE now monitor phone calls and read all their mail
(civil rights? what a notion! at best a detail!)
and if worse comes to worst...... well...... guantanamo jail!

WE’ve OUR quandaries and questions and headaches full blown
(like deciding design and decor of OUR throne...
whether diamonds or rubies... to gemstones WE’re prone) .
when WE deign to appease ’em, WE chuck ’em a bone.

now you know all OUR problems, OUR pains and travails
– like preparing foreclosures, evictions  and sales –
but WE’ve no need for worries or gnawed fingernails,
’cause WE’re sailing OUR yachts through tempestuous gales
(with them bailing OUR banks when OUR stock market fails)
sipping daiquiri sours, champagnes, ****** ales.
:-)
My dreams whisper sweet things
And surreptitiously speak to me
My waking words are rote and empty
-spilling with hypocrisy
Yet their comforting embrace
Simply bring smiles to my face
Filling my mind while I'm asleep

They send messages lined with silver That vanish when I wake
To bring about a dull and listless form Who is shaping my last mistake
You see I wake in a storm
Simultaneously feeling constrained
To my bed
I can't get up while there's no filter
For the rush of noises in my head

If there's a difference between
What you know and what you believe Then why is it not as easy
To imagine my reprieve
Why can I only experience a vivid life
While I sleep
Then once again wake up
To this Fear Doubt and Anger
Choking me

Invoking me by pushing buttons
Of their endless promises
To for certain be found in youth
While my vision is livid sinning
Contemplating and pinpointing
Who too close is uncouth
You sit there and feed my veins
An explanation to your lies
With all the compromised
Washed up water
Memorized methods
Coping mechanisms
While it's your heart that remains
Aloof

Then sit there in desperation
Reiterating as if you know
The deep introspective answer
When any fool can see your wisdom
Is wrought in the vanity
Of a talented dancer

If you lost the truth of sanity
Would you retrieve it for ten cents
Or would you search inside
Before hiding from the confines
Of a necessary moment
I'd rather die or sacrifice my life
Before cowering from what's hidden
The message so raw
That counts your flaws
Like there was some proof
In what is missing

But ultimately I guess
It comes down to the small decision
The chip on my shoulder
That became a boulder
When I reached out
For my inner vision.

So while I feel so disparate and alone
In the trenches losing my senses
Will I be the hero or be the villain
Will I let the poison make me it's toy
Or take the penicillin

*Some days my life feels as heavy
As that last breath left over
From how loudly I shout
But I guess a general synopsis to you
Of how I sometimes feel inside
Is a decent first step to waking up
While I'm down and out
I realize that a lot of lines were taken from other poems of mine. It's supposed to be written like that
He’s amused by the irony of having fought hard to live and now he is placing only one bullet in one of the six chambers of his revolver.

That one bullet has been packed with hate and as his mind descends deeper into a dark place, he gambles with his own fate.

He begs the bullet to heed his sorrows, and help him come alive again as he can only ever feel when death is by his side.

An Assassin does not sell his life cheaply so seemingly he is being selfish by gambling with his own life, which could be taken for a Kings ransom.

He is willing to pay dearly for the privilege of playing this game with the psychopath, the one that resides deep within his own mind.

This psychopath has won one too many games, when gambling on either being loved by a woman, or being excited by committing despicable acts of ******.

This is his first game of Russian Roulette

Loneliness decided his methods and his special army training helped his inner psychopath to ****** and maim.

A bitter pill to swallow while being loved by a woman and being controlled by his inner psychopath.

His blooded soul awaits the penalty of hell and his conscience tells him what goes will surely come. Yet his bullets continued to strike relentlessly.

He made attempts to explore the secret passageways in his mind, but he stopped for he dared not venture into the deepest reaches of his soul.

Instead he continued to hunt the ones breathing, no grace given, simply a bullet in the brain before leaving.

He reckons good is simply an ingredient of an evil recipe with blood the intoxicating part.

Savouring the moment he spins the barrel praying that the chamber is empty, but quietly hoping that it is not........
Agreement looks to be impossible

Confederation
Is what you speak of.

Yet it is construed,
In your words,
As falling to your
Methods.

Nothing will change,
Nobody will unite.

Until it is understood
That the solutions are somewhere
In between,
Your methods will not suffice.

Haven’t noticed,
sir?

We don’t give up.
I'm not sure of the consensus on political poems in Hello Poetry, it's not meant to be charged or cause argument. On the other hand, I am always more than happy to be critiqued on my craft, I don't have all that much experience in poetry so I want to keep improving.
Rəhman JA Jan 13
In my blood just nicotine and caffeine,
They are running stray in my vein,
Sometimes even i can't feel my brain,
Numbers are falling on me like rain.

Torture is illegal,but exam not,
I'm okay till here what i've got,
How the hell answer can change with the dot,
We choose the math but suicide methods a lot.
Exams are harmful for your health
thehighermind Jan 2018
They said many thing
Things that sometimes meant something.
But never did i regret not listening to them,
Even after that have worked.


The drugs always worked
They are a lying through their teeth,
They got methods of getting you back.
But once i get back on my feet,
Im saying **** u,
Im no longer in your grip.

But for now i stand defeated,
Knowing the extreme,
When will it be my turn
To turn my head
And say *******,
IM CLEAN
do you recall
the crunch beneath our feet
a gesture small
as we ambled down the street
dirt and gravel
I felt pebbles through my shoe
I unravelled
When I looked at you

Where did you come from
Are you real?
Is this how I’m supposed to feel?
A dreamgirl
In a dreary place
I’ve counted every freckle on your face

Sunlight peaked through maple branches
in such a tranquil way
missed chances to make advances
I always hoped you'd stay
a fork in the road ahead
we went different directions
I used many different methods
to try and snag your attention
Where did you come from
Are you real?
Is this how I’m supposed to feel?
A dreamgirl
In a dreary place
I’ve counted every freckle on your face

you never seemed to notice
you just stared ahead
heart bloomed as if a lotus
while I tugged at a loose thread
sometimes I'd begin to speak
but choked upon my words
so I walked next to you without a peep
and together watched the birds

Where did you come from
Are you real?
Is this how I’m supposed to feel?
A dreamgirl
In a dreary place
I’ve counted every freckle on your face

it's odd and super subtle
the synchronicity
insignificant and pointless
yet means the world to me
quiet walks every afternoon
past the garage and dead leaves
we watched the starlings courtship
do you remember me?

Where did you come from
Are you real?
Is this how I’m supposed to feel?
A dreamgirl
In a dreary place
I’ve counted every freckle on your face
girl gonzo May 30
my mouth dries from too much caffeine and my head becomes dehydrated
a beetle the size of a thimble slips into my coffee and makes his way into my throat
floating into a tunnel where there's only flooded acid at the bottom waiting for you
all the music is beginning to sound the same and I can't tell them apart at parties
when they ask my opinion my feet vibrate and I try to calibrate all the laughing boys in the back of my head to what I think I know
but the noise tosses my sentences into word salads
unwavering in your methods the song never ends and the candy never dissolves in your mouth completely
you can measure the distance and the dissonance of the people you've met under your belt like a buckle tightening inside a car when it stops
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