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Classy J Sep 2018
Used to have nightmares all the time, used to see demons in real life.
Used to think I had infinite time, used to be held back by strife.
Uh, elder made me a dream catcher when was young,
when my parents were too busy drowning in the ***,
so I admired the gangs who taught me how to hold a gun.
They told me guns was our only power, our only resistance, because reality is twisted and white man never going to give us
any **** assistance.

(Intro) How do I want to define my existence? How do I achieve My dreams? How can I love others when they scared of me and keep their distance from me? What’s the point of climbing the mountain when God struck me down before I was even half way up? How can I get over addictions when everyone else already gave up on me and won’t lift me up?

Climbing this myth, this illusion, this delusion,
trying to change but how can I?
When my people were put through crucifixion?
My mushim and kokum taught me the way of our people,
but looking back at it now I think I failed my people.

Learned different lessons like yin and yang from friends,
but it’s too late the balance is broken...
this is how our people’s story ends.
That’s just how I feel and with no home I can call my own.
So, I sleep on the streets with a bottle of patron.
Water was supposed to cleanse me, and fire was supposed to warm me, but this fire water is going to be the end of me.
When the colonists came they seemed so sweet like Juliet, but it was all a trick, got poisoned and it was revealed that Juliet was really Brutus to our Julius.
We trusted ****** and look where it got us,
we trusted the church and they molested us.
We trusted the education system,
but they beat us and told us our beliefs and cultures were blasphemous.

They spread their diseases to us, they extended court dates,
so we couldn’t defend ourselves or get reconciliation,
from past callous deeds that were pretty heinous.
Jesus save us, oh wait you brought them to us!
Pride was turned to shame, courage was turned to insecurity, yeah so much for diversity!

The ***** problem, the white man’s burden,
but we are told to just get over it and keep this **** hidden.
So yeah, my dreams and visions of becoming more is no more than an illusion.

Cultures collide and bring forth rigged constitutions.
So, a society develops assumptions and misconceptions,
and it didn’t help that my ancestors had to wait till 1960 to vote in pointless elections.

Elections to decide the next white privileged man to take power,
power that turns good man evil.
Most don’t see or want to see the levels of this status quo devil woe’s, **** ridden covert racist codes.
So, if reality is a nightmare on elm street I’d rather live life short and die quick, and kick the Lord off his high seat.
****, looks like this dream catcher turned out to be Charlotte's web.
Oh, the irony of this misdirect, I thought the dream-catcher was supposed to protect!

But I see know that when you throw out the ***** bath water you also got to throw out the crib!
So now you can see why I can’t get ahead, because white society set up an invisible blockade.
So, sorry if perpetuating the cycle is wrong,
but might as well take my token Indian status and put it into a broken arcade.
For this mountain I’ve been climbing was really a cliff all along,
and society made it pretty clear that I don't belong.
So, I have no choice but to sing my Farewell song.
For the time of the Indian is dead and gone!
I guess I’m okay… What more can I say?
Forget it—never mind,
You wouldn’t understand anyway,
Would you even know what it's like?
Inside a scattered disconnected mind,
Employed to go on strike?
Where indirect misdirect
The sincerity at play,
When sinusoidal chaos spikes
And past meets the future present day?
As paranoid points outlandishly connect
At intervals of broken lines,
Memory lost in recollect,
An array of misshaped bells
Internally infect the eternal confines
Of infinite distributional decay,
Parallels with no intersect,
Streetwise cells with empty signs,
Burned out lights, potholes, and landmines,
Littered all the way.
How am I to convey that all those times
You let your mind wander away
That I was reading, thinking, dreaming,
Teeming, never idle, never strayed,
Seeing, being, so far and away,
Even the brightest intellect beaming,
Could not grasp the feeling
In the slightest of highest orders reeling,
Wound unbound, or as it would be seeming,
Imperfect, even to the disarray
Of the tamest prefect, whose verdict
Could not predict the reflect,
For in this world, seeing is deceiving,
As the lamest reject, defect,
Increasingly decreasing,
In simplistic bliss obey
Crowned unsound fallacies
That contradict all meaning,
Hiding behind reality, the actualities
Lest, protect the thoughtlessness perceiving,
Let me stop you if I may...
I must interject for I digress,
What nonsense was I weaving?
Forget it—I've lost my mind,
I best be leaving,
What more can I say?
It's periodic I must confess,
You probably don't care anyway,
Yeah, yeah, I'll be okay,
Until next time I guess,
I wouldn't want to be misleading.
I’m scattered but I’m on point.
Todd V Vance Jan 2017
If you let this architect interject
My subject you'll dissect effectively correct
I'll try to make it clear
If you inspect or introspect with intellect these indirect
Pretentious scribbles misdirect
Collect your wits my dear
If you elect I'll be direct
No intended disrespect
I don't expect that you'll reject
A change of atmosphere
If you accept I won't defect you mustn't reflect this henpecked insects unchecked neglect
Tonight with luck I'll in fact infect
You with a grin from ear to ear
John F McCullagh Jun 2012
The Miss-Director was beaming with pride
as he came to escort me inside.
"Come along, these are perilous times,
there is much ugly truth we must hide."
"Herr Goebbels was our school's inspiration.
Joe McCarthy taught here till he died.
Charlie Rangel is among our directors.
Our Grads over nations preside."
"We recruit each years class from young children
who display a disdain for the truth."
"We start with a class on tall stories,
progressing to fibs and untruths."
"By the time they are teens they are ready
to leave little white lies behind."
"They engage in deceit and deception.
These skills help them rob people blind."
"With our Grad course in prevarication
They misdirect and deflect with the great."
"Obama was born in Hawaii,
his foes say he was birthed out of state."
"When Bill Clinton was caught in that perjury
I nearly went out of my mind."
"If only he'd paid more attention in Class
and less to some coed's behind."

We had come to a massive rotunda
The Pantheon of all untruth.
Holograms of Stalin and Churchill
told whoppers in an endless loop.
There were quotes from
the World's Great Religions
inscribed on the sides of the wall.
A Left wing devoted to Lenin.
A right wing like a Munich beer hall.

" The sheeple must never be told
that a place like this even exists."

" You can count on me not to inform them."
I said, without moving my lips.
In Dublin during the 1916 insurrection, the Medecity Institute was destroyed by British shells.  It didn't take too much imagination to change one letter- then it was off to the races with my imagination.
John F McCullagh Jul 2013
The Miss-Director was beaming with pride
as he scurried up to escort me inside.
"Come along, these are perilous times,
there is much ugly truth we endeavor to  hide."

""We recruit each years class from young children
who display a disdain for the truth."
"We start with a class on tall stories,
progressing to fibs and untruths."

"By the time they are teens they are ready
to leave little white lies behind."
"They engage in deceit and deception.
These skills help them rob people blind."

"With our Graduate course in lying
They misdirect and deflect with the great."
"Politicians here are made, not born,
and must learn to prevaricate."

"When Bill Clinton was caught in that perjury
I nearly went out of my mind."
"If only he'd paid more attention in Class
and less to some Coed's behind."

We had come to a massive rotunda
The Pantheon of all untruth.
Holograms of Stalin and Churchill
telling lies in an endless loop.

There were quotes from
the Koran and Bible
inscribed on the sides of the wall.
A Left wing devoted to Lenin.
A right wing like a Munich beer hall.

" The sheeple must never be told
that a place like this even exists."
" You can count on me not to inform them."
I said, barely moving my lips.
Akira Chinen Aug 2016
I often think of love and death
For they often seem the same
One cannot exist without the other
It is the end of suffering
That we find in the kindness
In the lips of their kiss
There is both the thrill and fear of the unknown
When we feel the approach of either one
Too often fear has the stronger pull
For even the excitement of the thrill can terrify us
We run from love we could embrace
For fears of its validity its vitality its inevitable end
The pain and suffering we see in its wake
We use our past failures and misconceptions of love
To judge and misdirect our current and future interactions with love
It is hard to belive that love is immortal
When we belive ourselves to be not
To live in fear of death
Only robs us of moments
We could better spend in the pursuit and hands of love
We cannot escape death
We cannot out run its grasp
We cannot avoid its breath
We cannot hide behind locked doors from it
Yet we often fear it as if fear will shield us from its inevitable kiss
And once again in spending time with fear
We are only losing moments we could better enjoy in the pursuit of life
It is in this pursuit of life we should find freedom from fear
That death is not a thief of immortality
And that we find ourselves immortal when we embrace love
What is it
within the realm of
my Self
that has the nerve
to question the divinity
of this current, fleeting moment?

Is it not the vessel of Life, itself,
that is used to navigate
these, the occluded
Seas of Death?

Could it not be
that a Mind and Body
are the very salvation
over which we so toil?

Would it not be an act of pure mercy
to have the capacity to look around
and to think, and create
while, all the time,
being pulled under
by the inevitable tide of change
we, in English, chose to call
"Death?"

That, in itself,
should inspire me to carry on
and to turn an eye
up from the ground, back from the past;
to within my self; this current moment;
and on, upward:
to the skies and, likewise,
the future.

What is it about my Mind
that so enjoys, or perhaps requires
some selfish sense of 'overlooking'
for the sake of ephemeral comfort?

Alas,
I know what word I would use,
but I dare yet not to use it;
for, t'is that a word, itself,
isn't the concept, itself;
and it's use would be to misdirect
from the nature of the experience,
and to mistranslate what I feel.

I realize the necessity
for names; for words:
we use them to facilitate communication.
I also understand their limit:
there is a great realm
beyond the transparent restraints
of our Languages.

I would identify the culprit
as either "Ego," or "Id."
But, better yet, I would argue
"both and neither."

Freud had some great ideas,
but I tend towards Jung-

I could sooner call it the Shadow,
or at least one aspect of it.

The Shadow is semi-subconscious.
It is an amalgam of fears and repression.
It can only hold so much pressure
before it erupts.
So,
I implore you
to study your Shadow.

It has great potential for change.
Failing to utilize it
is to be utilized by it.
Make it work for you
or you will work for it.
Use your Shadow
to your advantage,
or it will use you
to that of it's own.

Pick apart your Self;
put it back together.
Sometimes that's easier said than done,
but, with a proper mindset,
it'll come and leave
before you even know it.
It happens all the time.

Refuse the shackles
of thy Shadow;
break the chains
and share with the world
the fleeting feeling
of self-liberation.

That is,
if someone doesn't misinterpret what you've said;
looking through the Shadow,
everything looks darker.

Realize where you're going.
Realize what you're doing.

Heed what you feed,
external or internal.

Seek Balance.
Explore Ideas.
Gain Understanding
no matter how slow:
at all
is far better
than so many.

No one may escape these Seas;
but you can start some ripples
that will propagate ad infinitum.

Ask. Practice. Learn. Grow.
Mostly improvised.
Stream-of-consciousness-esque.

Call it following a whim~

Spoken Recording:
https://soundcloud.com/apexparadigm/fleeting-seas-of-death
daphne Aug 2021
“i can't breathe, andy!”
she shrieked
as his fingers tickled
her sensitive underarms
laughter ringing

“i can't breathe, andy!”
she shrieked
as his fingers curled
around her throat
cries ringing
Cedric McClester Jan 2017
By: Cedric McClester

Here are the wherefores and whys
Alternative facts are just lies
Projected as strong alibis
To misdirect the unwise
The photos offer us the proof
That alternative facts aren’t the truth
From the mouth of the liar and chief
It’s incredulous beyond belief

Admittedly she’s a real jewel
Convincing to those she can fool
But she’s being used like a tool
And that is unusual and cruel
The universe she’s living in
Is ruled by an ocean of spin
She does it because she can
Can we have the church say amen

The press is truly amazed
How she instantly coined the phrase
Alternative facts now replays
In interesting and varied ways
Like no one wants to see his taxes
When the opposite is where the facts is
But I guess she’s had so much practice
At the prestidigitation she waxes

She’s his spokesperson, as it were
Her words rarely represent her
Over time it becomes a blur
Though that thought might not occur
His taxes remain on a shelf
So blame him and nobody else
If he de-legitimizes himself
Like Kramden, I’m talkin’ ‘bout Ralph






Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2017.  All rights reserved.
Brent Kincaid Aug 2015
You don’t matter at all,
You hardworking citizen,
You who toil at drudgery
To feed all your children.
When we need you to vote
We pay attention to you
But the rest of the time
We look right through you.

You don’t matter at all.
Only the rich are essential
The rest of you are not;
You’re interchangeable.
You’re just marks on a page;
On the bottom of a ledger
And it’s best if you just
Work silently altogether.

The one percent matters
But if you are not rich yet
That means you are too stupid
To reach out and get.
The rich are a better class
And a truly valuable human.
All you non-rich are good for
Is to support us by consuming.

You don’t matter at all
Since you only vote for POTUS.
The rest of the time you all
Let us rob and you don’t outvote us.
We write laws that give more
And soon all of wealth to us
And then we point at someone else
For you to fail to back and cuss.

You don’t matter at all,
Or haven’t you even noticed.
You didn’t see that we urge
You to dwell in a field of lotus
Called football beer and Fox,
The news that is not really news;
Just something to misdirect.
It helps us shape your views.

You don’t matter at all.
You prove it every single day
By being so ignorant and lazy
We give this country away
We sell off your birthright
To the rich of other lands
And you all just run your mouth
And sit there on your hands.
Bob B Mar 2017
Once there was a nation, which
Boasted of its wealth and size.
In that nation lies became truth,
And truth became known as lies.

Thus, the country corroborated
An expert's wise and salient prediction
That soon the people everywhere
Wouldn't know fact from fiction.

"Science is irrelevant,"
The leaders of the land decreed.
"Clamp down on critical thinking
And we'll maintain control indeed."

The people became MORE baffled,
MORE confused, MORE perplexed,
And wondered what kind of craziness
They were going to encounter next.

The art of political doublespeak
Was praised, encouraged and expanded.
If you called it gobbledygook,
You were severely reprimanded.

Reporters who sought facts were called
"Purveyors of mendacity,"
While those who were irrational
Were "pillars of veracity."

The general rule was answer a question
With a question, or try to deflect
Any queries toward dead ends.
The tactic was called "Misdirect."

The leader was an expert at
Duplicity and subterfuge.
Ruling without intelligence
Can work when a person's ego is HUGE.

Sad it was to see such a land
Change from what it once had been.
Not until people opened their eyes
Would things improve. Not until then.

- by Bob B (3-21-17)
Mateuš Conrad Dec 2015
christianity ends when it's lessons begin, and its dostoyevsky (i.e. the critique of christ as depicted in the idiot, basically a dim-wit who cannot recognise an insult, because he just loves everyone) begins with insults.

it's horrid that women were prescribed
the emotional outlet of crying without taboo...
and men were prescribed the outlet of laughter
to a limit of laughing within politics...
women are easily discarded during war times...
but men are as easily discarded during times
of peace - i cry at beauty, do i hate to cry,
or be apathetic about it being expressed...
no woman's onomatopoeia of ****** will ever
resound as a bounty, even the body speaks for
itself in the form of some piece of music:
and if you can't extract a tear when listening
to *ola gjeilo's
northern lights or o magnum mysterium,
or vaughan williams' fantasia on a theme by
thomas tallis... or any other name by thomas newman,
then you had your ***** cut off, your heart
ripped out... and the only thing that makes
you human is only a brain in a pickle jar;
no, i'm sure you're also spineless;
brain in a pickle jar - which doesn't make me
wonder as to why more men are affected
by mental health issues in england: that
rotten taboo sing-along to the cure's boys don't cry,
or if they cry, they shed a boxer's tear
when getting punched in the face - and even then
they just shrug it of as: oh that? only sweat.

my a.i. experiment begins with bonsai tigers,
cats, petted animals,
it begins here, when the animal is removed
from its natural surroundings like its lucky;
it's not lucky, it's ****** into
our diretribe of superiority hiding from winter.

well **** me so much ***, and so little marriage,
it's almost like looking at henry viii.

i'll write a japanese infusion, mind you i went further
tha ezra with japan, northern new zealand,
eastern england; remember geo-posits;
i took it to heart: your father was on a peddle-stool
along with you... oh blush...
roses are queens
spring blossoms are dog sushi...
i'll make my bet on: globalisation doesn't work
with capitalism... culture from america,
products from china... hippy trips grow-a-beard
from india... you're all liars you're not included
in the cluedo board of humanism, one
motto humanism ought to have to shake off satainsm:
shave off the lies... look pretty.
but you won't.
i'm about to move to japan via a t.v.,
excuse me please,
i'm about to expand my vocabulary and wants;
it almost feels like i dated you via
an ideal father not so ideal to imitate,
and some circus act where i attired myself
as a clown and was told by the management
that i had to take it off to ride an elephant
for the crescendo balancing act on a tight-rope.

p.s. please misdirect the pronoun vectors,
the personal pronouns are speaking from one
void to another void of collective impersonal
pronouns - in order that you might not feel
any personal attachment to the content in
between the unavoidable use of them.
brandon nagley May 2015
Taker,
Take openly thou fool of non-fruited spirit!!!
Consecrator of pulse feelings,
Registrator of knighted dealings!!!!
                   Thy commitment to one means nothing,
                   Yet something means something to all who know no commandment,
Abandonment,
Surely runs across the express of adherance!!!

Longetivities lost hut is overly done,
       Nothing is won't If you lost the poker skilled bet!!!

Doeth thou as so much as care yet?

Dont throw in all thy chips,
Manipulator of long finger nailed strips!!!

      The newsboy doth not show around these ways,
No news,
               All new-fangled misgivers,
Mischief singers misdirect all pity platoons!!!

Thy twin glossed repugnance is caught quietly,
Piece by piece,
You string up the earth to the next distant crescent!!!

Proprietor,
                  What shall thou propose?

Art thou the puppet played bafoon?
Evan Robbins Jan 2012
Virtually impossible I set my goals aside
Understanding your objectivity , I live my life with pride
I object to misdirect the world you live in fear
I refuse to believe in your truths ,to which you will adhere
Consequence to my defense you strive to see a lie
I hide behind the shattered dreams in my minds eye
Don't you care that I don't mind
I don't, who does?
It will , it was
I can't I won't
You do I don't
She,he,we,we,were
I shall save her.
The light fall attracts me and like a moth I'm distracted, burn and I go back again.
I spin and return to
feel the burn and contracting, but it's just me that's playing a part in a play, acting a role as directed.

Catherine wheel round to revolve, hit the ground and I smoulder, the smoke turns me blue, the flame sneaks itself out and the World gets a bit colder, but it's just acting, scene one, the World hasn't gone it's just hidden in her Ladyship's handbag.

Using a pin code to get over the main road I dodge all the traffic at nine,
the machines let me slow into the way, but I know which way they'd like me to go so I stay.

It's a misdirect and it's done to confuse me when the light finally fails me and the smoke tails off from me like rain from the gutter,
I splutter until I can utter no more cries,
dry my tears on a handkerchief
and go.
John F McCullagh Jul 2017
The Miss-Director was beaming with pride
as he scurried up to escort me inside.
"Come along, these are perilous times,
there is much ugly truth we endeavor to hide."

""We recruit each years class from young children
who display a disdain for the truth."
"We start with a class on tall stories,
progressing to fibs and untruths."

"By the time they are teens they are ready
to leave little white lies behind."
"They engage in deceit and deception.
These skills help them rob people blind."

"Our graduates cheat and suborn
They misdirect and deflect with the great."
"Politicians here are made, not born,
and all learn to prevaricate."

"When Bill Clinton was caught in that perjury
I nearly went out of my mind."
"If only he'd paid more attention in Class
and less to some Coed's behind."

We had come to a massive rotunda
The Pantheon of all untruth.
Holograms of Stalin and Churchill
telling lies in an endless loop.

There were quotes from
the Koran and Bible
inscribed on the sides of the wall.
A Left wing devoted to Lenin.
A right wing like a Munich beer hall.

" The people must never be told
that a place like this even exists."
" You can count on me not to inform them."

I said, barely moving my lips.
A visit to the institute of Liar learning can be eye opening
Ottar Jan 2014
shake the key prints from fingers at the end of the day,
walk on the sidewalk leaving a trail of all the alphabet used
to get through the day,
rinse and spit, rinse and spit,
wash out the mouth, that said words, combining letters and sounds,
to get a message across,
can't close the eyes for the walk home,
traffic would honk, as I wandered on the road, or the only vehicle that is dangerous is the one you            
                                                 ­                     don't hear.

Breathe breathe, congested inverted air now gone, except at each stop light,
it may seem fresh, it may seem clear, for the dozen minutes to home,
the lungs comb air from the building and air from the pollution,
what is the solution sought?

Leave it all behind, don't let infect, reject, misdirect, what needs to be said.
This is a free read, as well as a freewrite, in spite of all the bureaucracy
that waded beyond knees, so if books are published with poems or prose or
a mother's memoir or a monstrous surreal pieces of fiction, buy them all please,
and send the message needed to be heard... go home, and write so much more.



©DWE012014
Dave Robertson May 2020
Splinter and divide,
time after time,
bluster and misdirect,
point to the workshy or foreigners,
twist the knife in vulnerable hearts
and fan the fear

We’re here because at some point past
we agreed this land should last
that it stands for goodness and right
and all heads shared the thought
so the idea
became

Our disgust and indignance
threatens a retreat
so the squeakiest wheel triumphs
through attrition

Your mission,
should you choose to accept it,
is this:

Call out the heartless, the bleak,
the self self self serving,
the thoughtless, the blinkered
the unthinkers

Every breath, every day
our grit and mettle can save us
and an idea worth saving
Past Apr 2020
I’m hiding because

it’s easy to do
To misdirect you
To hide the true me
So that you cannot see

I’m scared
So I prepare
The perfect cover
And hope you don’t discover

What truly hides beneath the veil
That turn people pale

Just because I’m hidden
Doesn’t mean I’ll put down that pen
To write what I feel
To draw a tight seal
Over what I hid
What I hid
Lies in truth amid
But you need to open your eyelid

Help me see
A better day
A day with you and me
PERTINAX Aug 2017
I am anything but simple
I tell this to myself daily
Referring to the laws and principles
Of physics and philosophy
Help me to better affirm
My self applied identity
Like a mask carefully painted
With articulate lines intended
To misdirect my audience
With clever puns or phrases
Turned in on themselves
As a means to prevent you
Seeing the simplicity of me
And my basic reality
Where even lime would be jealous
Craving doses of muratic acid
To raise my alkalinity
So that I can burn away
This distasteful facade I parade
Revealing the true face of a man
Burdened and afraid
Never questioning the worth
Of my abnormal normality
Michael Kusi May 2018
Message and Lady of the Night brought Arthur back, and he looked at the place.
It is not Camelot but it would have to do, mused Arthur with a smile on his face.
The Covenantial Project walked in and Arthur yelled, Merlin, I thought you were gone!
Merlin?! Said Message and Lady of the Night at the same time, and their surprise was strong.
Yes, I was Merlin to the Britons, but I was there to guard the Excalibur until Arthur was done
The Covenantial Project explained, then when Arthur pulled sword from stone, I knew he was The One.
The second Project in our order, I left you with the Lady of the Lake while I went to gather the Federation.
I also came back to your island as Detective Sherlock Holmes, because I knew that I could not be patient.
What your time called mysticism that time called deduction and investigation, it worked for me either way.
So here I am as the Covenantial Project, defender of the Scythe Sword, standing by you today.
Arthur asked, So where is my Round Table, and should not a man with Excalibur have a throne.
Breastplate-Bearer snorted and said, The only throne you have is porcelain, and you sit on it alone.
Arthur said, I don’t know what you mean, and The Covenantial Project said, Camelot was destroyed.
The Saxons were men sent by Vibrate to ruin the new Troy, Briton, such evilness they deployed.
But instead of annihilating Briton they lived there, so Vibrate now sought to ruin everything.
She knew that you were asleep, but she never could fathom that you could awake my king.
I took on the persona of Detective Sherlock Holmes in the past century, I knew she would be back.
And there were clues left by the Saxons in the past years, as to the nature of her attack.
The people called the Whisperers fought me at every turn, killing and committing crime.
But I knew that if I did not give up, the knowledge I sought would soon be mine.
But what about Watson, Lady of the Night asked, her curiosity heighted by this news.
The Covenantial Project answered, He was one of the first Cloaked Scouts of the Federation, so good.
He is buried in a masoleum, that lies outside the London neighborhood.

Message asked, So what do we do now, we will need the entire Federation for war.
Cloaked Scouts, The Knighthood Ways, and the Projects need to be assembled before….
She stopped short, because she dare not think what would happen if Achilles could rampage.
The Alliance Project sat up and said, Now we can go out and go against Achilles in a campaign start!
To attack him now is futile, because we need to gather the entire forces so he does not tear us apart.
We have to misdirect him, so that he goes off in the wrong direction and it takes him longer.
Because the more time it takes for him to get to us, a greater chance we have because we are stronger.
The Covenantial Project said, I will go, and with my Merlinic powers combined with Detection.
I will throw him off balance so that he is confused and heads in the wrong direction.
I don’t have to engage with him directly, although I have enough power for that son.
Arthur and Message come with me, Two Projects are always better than one.
Lady of the Night stay here, and keep surveillance on Vibrate.
I will put on the Eclipse visor, so that I can open up the eye-gate.
You guys can call the Federation together, so we can attack Achilles when he is frustrated.
To win the ultimate victory against this Son of Banishment, and finally have him defeated.
All of them nodded, and Message asked, But what about Vibrate who is coming.
The Covenantial Project answered grimly, She can share in the fate of her dead son.
The Federation would be formed and reinforcements are coming, we would leave to attack.
And until Vibrate is destroyed there will be no peace, because we will not come back.
The Alliance Project you should heal from the last fight with Achilles, we will need you for this trouble.
Because this fight is more than a battle, it is a universal struggle.

The Alliance Project nodded and lay down, as Breastplate-Bearer and Lady of the Night toiled on him.
Arthur, Message, and the Covenantal Project went out, and boarded the Isotrain Mechanism.
As it took off Arthur said, This does not feel like Llamei, and Message giggled, That is a weird name for a woman.
Arthur shot daggers at her and said, Llamei was the War-horse for a High King, watch your tone.
Suddenly the Isotrain Mechanism was going down, and Message said, I think someone is on it.
Arthur took out Excalibur and said, Hand me the Galvatar Scabbard, a lot of blood is going to be shed.
None of it should be mine, and at the end of all of this, our problem will be stabbed dead.
Message gave him the scabbard and went behind Arthur as the Covenantal Project tried to land.
She kept on shaking her head and said, I thought they were about chivalry, but I don’t understand.
Achilles was standing on top of the Isotrain Mechanism and yelled, You will die, you Trojan
Arthur pulled out Excalibur and calmly said, You must be ended, you menace who is The Unspoken.
Message took out her Celestial Blade Saber and tip-toed saying, This is a wobbly place to yield.
She spoke to The Covenantial Project on her watch, Make sure to land in the next available field.
Achilles and Arthur ran towards each other, two ancient warriors preparing to fight.
Suddenly the Isotrain Mechanism tipped over, and all three of them fell because of that flight.
But Excalibur acted like a parachute, and brought Message and Arthur safe to the grass.
And Achilles was basically undead anyway, so he landed not far past.
Message and Arthur landed together, and Arthur had a strange ****** smile indeed.
What is wrong, asked Message,Arthur replied, I lost the healing scabbard, so I will see if I can bleed.
Kelly McManus Aug 2019
Keep on defending
and spending on war your path
back will disappear

                                 Kelly McManus
Andrew Rueter Nov 2018
Reality show
Notoriety hoes
Follow what glows
Behind a fame nose
In a shame pose
As the game goes
They keep staying low
While nasty stains grow
From thinking vapidly
And acting rapidly
Not speaking factually
We don’t see them actually

Seeming tame
And plain
Seeking fame
Their aim
All the same
They play a game
Of hoops of flame

Becoming circus acts
By removing tact
On a negative track
Of shooting flak
And shooting back
Negativity attracts
Harmful impacts
At an old impasse
Of cold syntax
Warranting a gin tax
Drinking from a tin flask
So the emptiness is masked

The reverb
Resurge
Rewords
The birds
Caught in the Internet
Like a flying intercept
Stealing their intellect
With a mundane misdirect
Of inane interests

A new method for dollar dreamers
Now the cynical screamers
Are digital streamers
Pivotal pleasers
Concerned with clicks
By scratch and kick
They hatch a trick
To match a *****
Dispatched to fix
Their lack of hits

The loud and obnoxious
Are proud of the noxious
And opening boxes
They stream video games
Other people made
They just played
For a good grade
In the leisure lane
No pleasure or pain
To treasure my brain

Their reality shows
In modality woes
Personality froze
Under their nose
In a monitor glow
Development slows
As far as irrelevant goes
They’re part of the flow
That doesn’t grow

Taking the shameful road to attention
For a dishonorable mention
Avoiding knowledge retention
For a superficial invention
Of social extension
They have a fatal mentality
That perception is reality
But the exception is vitality
That isn’t just an eventuality
For one must be capable and willing
To try to produce something fulfilling
Instead of just simple time killing
While hourglass sand keeps spilling
in quarantine locked is the mind
never free,
when the body enslaved

you think,
you are free to dispute
this contention

or so you think...

but when you write of your current condition,
understand you’ve lost in thinking winning
the body|mind a single singularity, so
when you smack your head against the Fifth wall,
desperate to believe, concede to conceive that
no in Hindi, same in any language, caged body
is pleased to misdirect, dress up yes, but my elder
wisdom, has read Monte Cristo, and no matter how
you count, until free in both organs,

you can’t count as far as  1,
the nomenclature of unity.
Parker Oct 2017
Everything will eventually fall apart
You must keep running
Steering towards your masterpiece
The pain must shape you as a vessel that can withstand all the tragedies
Your captains wheel must point in the direction you will one day crash
you must keep running
For all life's tragedies are waiting to shred you apart
To try and misdirect you so that your vision seems impossible
Pain must only be used as another tool embedded in these bodies
For the one thing you are guaranteed is pain
How you handle it is completely your responsibility.
Paint your pain or let it **** you
JP May 2019
Sometimes
an question arises in us
but no need to lookout
for an answer..keeping
ourself quiet.....
Slowly it disappears
Getting answer for such questions
may misdirect us from...
There's a **** on the sheets of the bed where I sleep
Here’s black on my chair where once white fabric leaped
There’s the wrapper of some chips on a trash I won't upkeep
Herein thinks a brain, but the rest will still be me

There's shower one: down the drain, months of ****
Here's leaning teeth ignoring piles of floss kits
There's another week missed to get hair that fits
Herein rest bangs who might be cut in a bit

The Bug Wrecks
Sunless, fasting on shame
Eclectic, abhorrent
Asking for more
Masking some sick twist
Dying and pleading
Concealing a dark trick
Obsessively ignored
Twisting any door
Deliberate, silent form
Manipulative, breaching norms
Carrapasstic entrapment
Detracted of blame
The Bug Wrecks
Itself, inside of its flame

There's the meltdown starting with nothing’s absence
Here’s demented ravings after sketching my distance
There's some cryptic word mystics to plain flippant lies
Herein stead leads my dread of a make believe sky

There's the **** this and the **** that
Here's the mourn fiscal to fiscal-detach
There's the moth treading addiction en-masse
Herein some small house that bug has aroused

The Moth Let’s
Collapse pass
Dugout, running
Adjacent is feeling
Oasis’ these queasings
Dying and pleading
Sequester the ‘yes please’
Misdirect so death eases
Repressing life’s thank you’s
Suggest that you see me
Flee with me to being
Beneath me, your choosing
Release be to no one
The Moth Let’s
Me reconcile

There's the sleeping of poems into unquenchable moans
Here's me un-agreeing to the fixing of those
There's professional sadness of proverbial bones
Herein tells a someone maladjusted to pain

There's the bird, no better than some insect
Here's my sweat with every form of misstep
There's two eyes with two legs to imprison
Herein my life these words make a fiction
Finished July 10, 2017
Wordfreak Nov 2020
Every brushstroke
A scream
Every sentence
A body
We hide our anger
Our frustration
Our catharsis
In pretty colors
And euphamisms.
Better to misdirect
Than to act.
SoulaZoul Feb 2018
Why must Poetry be a sad man's ideal
A place to anchor one's sorrows
It should be a place to describe what is real
Encourage people to look towards tomorrow
To confuse and misdirect is even still better
Then making the reader feel sad
I honestly wonder
When?
Did Poetry get so bad
Looking through other's Poetry it seems like whoever can express the most depressing or love-lost voice trends, I don't agree with this look.
bulletcookie Nov 2022
Please stay on the line ─
waiting, waiting, waiting
in line, in lines, on-the-line
while ...
Muzak, playing rings around
and around; a merry-go-round
of instrumental oblivion

twenty minutes times infinity
life in a bottle floating on an ocean
of numbers, rings, dial tones, silence
disembodied voices giving quarterback signals
that misdirect a defense
throwing a yellow flag of neurosis
an empty, time out, receding stare

-cec
Bobby Copeland Jan 2021
you wouldnt know why would you know
to see him wearing cardigans
from pampered lambs and leather shoes
exported by italians
her eyes disguised by powdered base
and shimmer that accentuates
unbruised remainders of her face
that they had argued very late
designer shades pulled forward strands
a matte upon discolored neck
conceals the pattern of his hands
white hat long earrings misdirect
our short attention from the fact
that silence speaks repeated act
kfaye Oct 2022
Was what this nation is told to have been founded upon

The Secular pursuit of reason, self determination,
And the triumph of the human mind
Over dogma and the disparities of false witness

Your god died long ago
You seek only to resurrect
Suffering  

Don’t misdirect my words
Just because to lie to yourself, unable to see yourself as you are-

You are blind to the obvious consequences of your actions

And for that you have my pity and hate.

Yet, the pity grows ever weaker
Graff1980 Apr 2021
Fox news and OAN,
Ben Shapiro,
and Tucker Carlson,

fake newsmen
versus fake newsmen
vying for the views
of the uninformed population,
trying to defund
public education,
twisting perspectives
while being
super selective
with the message
they are constructing.

Obstructors of truth
as they misdirect
the electorate
with their misconduct;

Stir up fear and anxiety
about people who are
in the same boat
that we are.

A spendthrift grift,
cursing the gift to uplift
that empathy is
and replacing it with
vile slurs and *******.
All that bile interspersed with
the commercials we’ve seen,
cause it is a money making,
hate cultivating machine.

So frustrating
cause it is easy to see
the ouroboros,
that snake that devours itself
after it has destroyed everything else.
Big Virge Jul 2021
Now Within Life’s Selections...
There Are Misdirections...
  
From Which You Need To Give...
Yourself... Good PROTECTION... !!!
  
Because Much That Is Said...
And Presented To Heads...
  
Is Oh YES INCORRECT... !!!
So Don’t Just Ingest...
What People Present...
As Being What’s Correct... !!!
  
So Check Who You're Sexing...
Because Misdirections...
Can Lead You To TENSIONS...
Relationship PRESSURES...
And SERIOUS STRESSING... !!!
  
I Suggest That You CHECK...
And Then DOUBLE CHECK... !!!
  
... Historical Texts...
And What People Express...
Within Their Arguments... !!!
  
From Things Like Enslavement...
To Who You Call... FRIENDS...
  
SECRET... Experiments...
  
And The News That We’re Fed...
  
Oh And DON’T You FORGET...
About Our GOVERNMENTS... !!!
  
Because Time And Again...
They Clearly MISDIRECT...
  
WHATEVER Their Sect...
Or Agendas They Set... !!!
  
From The Smallest of Things...
To The BIGGEST of Grifts...
  
... Misdirections STING... !!!!!
  
If You Do NOT THINK...
About How Things Are Linked...
  
People Say A GREAT Deal...
That Just... ISN’T Real... !!!
  
Misdirections STEAL... !!!
As Well As Conceal...
The Truth To Maintain...
Falsehoods That Remain...
That Enslave Mind States...
And Keep People Restrained...
In Ways That Cause PAIN...
And DAMAGE To Brains... !!!
  
They DENIGRATE Names...
Who Won't Go Their Way...
  
So Make People Act Strange...
And Then Shift Their Shape...
Just Like New Gender Traits... ?!?
  
These Are Just A Few Ways...
Misdirections Now Sway...
And Affect Heads TODAY... !!!
  
Misdirections Shroud...
The World With Much Doubt...
  
And Are Now Used By Mouths...
To Leave People CLOWNED...
And To Make Them FROWN...
When Things In The World...
Are Turned UPSIDE DOWN... !!!
  
Like This Need For Protection...
Against... BAD INFECTIONS... !!!
  
From This Corona Thing... ?!?
That’s Been Quickly Spreading...
  
When You Take Time To THINK...
About Where We’re Heading...
  
Aren’t We MISDIRECTED...
MORE Than We’re PROTECTED... !?!
  
By Those Now Selected...
To Choose The Direction...
That’s Best For INVESTMENT...
  
AHEAD of Collections...
of... BETTER Directives...
Than Those We've Been Getting...
  
For THOUSANDS of Years... !!!
  
From MOORS Now REVERED...
To Those Who Are JEERED...
For What They Have Cleared...
As Being... Directions...
That Lead To Ascensions...  
For Human Progression...
  
Or Is That REGRESSION... ?!?
  
This Poem Is Sending...
A VERY CLEAR Message... !!!
  
Will All This Pretension...
And MISINFORMATION...
That’s Been Spread To Nations...
Through INCORRECT Lessons... !!!
  
From Names I WON'T Mention... !!!
  
When It Comes To INJECTIONS...
And New Tech Inventions...
As Well As Investments...
Through CASHLESS Inceptions... ?!?
  
The Dangers Are ENDLESS...
  
If You Are NOT Vested...
In Keeping Your Interests...
And Health WELL PROTECTED... !!!
  
From Modern Day Spreaders...
of Things That Need CHECKING...
  
That May Be... ?!?
  
... “ MISDIRECTIONS “...
It's clear that many have been used throughout history, so this poem merely suggests that it's wise to try to avoid being deceived by one.
PoEm Jan 2021
You let me down again
Last night
With the sour taste of your shame
as palpable
as the morning’s weak light
sidling across
our window pane.

A parched acrid taint
on ruby-stained lips
Bears witness to a ritual disgrace.
Yet as you try
to misdirect, the mask slips
Revealing the addict’s
craven face.

Yet I recall your yesterday
Striding strong
Under ice-blue skies, along ways
Frosted silver.
And it’s here you belong -
enthralled - where nature
holds sway.

Then returning to turn the earth
Of your Eden
Seeking and nurturing worth
Utterly spellbound.
Body straining, mind heeding
The simple pulse of
your rebirth.

Yet as burnished skies cede
To shadowy hues
Your life colours bleed
Become indistinct
And without them you lose
All sense of the magic
That defines your need.

You’ll let me down again
Tonight
With the dark shadows of your pain
as predictable
as the room’s dimming light
and the ruby-red Judas
Poisoning your veins.
RobbieG Nov 2021
Difference relevant
various forms
False measurements
begin to form
Shape shifting
slowly creating
An internal stranger
no acquaintance
Unfamiliar figure
visions blurred
Absent shadow
wipe your eyes
Fogged mirrors
reflect unwanted imagery
Who have i become?
Sweaty palms
dry skin
Bloodshot eyes
dandruff hair
Stubble beard
look of despair
Anger fills your mind
false illusions
Of the previous night
leave a cloud of doubt
One thing is certain
and that is......
The "HOW"
before accepting fault
You quickly engage
telling yourself
In the back of your mind
it's not your fault
Keep playing the victim
knowing your plenty capable
Traumatic childhood
left in the past
Never realizing
the importance
It will have on the present
the same childhood friend
That got you through it all
now is the biggest culprit
Allowing your mind
to pretend its never your fault
Imagination, always their
to save the day
Allowing yourself
to procreate
Thoughts of weakness
ability to misdirect
The tough conversations
your favorite sidekick
An all purpose tool
for all occassions
Especially the ones
that put you on the spot
Preventing yourself
from overcoming the past
Allowing you, to live a lie
lets not forget
Although its a small circle
we both know **** well
Creativity shows up
Imagination's favorite
friend
They saved you as youth
kept your mind
off all the abuse
They made being poor
not seem so tough
They got you through
some really bad breakups
Hell! they both
were the majority
of the responsibility
For everytime
a girl fell in love
You expect me to believe
these two childhood friends
I have always been able
to count on
The very two
that always had my back
The very two
No one could ever
take me from
They have now transformed
allowing insecurities
to be easier to hide
All the training over the years
were only suppressing
Allowing me to avoid
keeping me weak
Allowing my mistakes
always to be justified
Things aren't always
as they seem
R..AD
B..T. ..EN
.
.HE
L..N..S
Don't become
that someone
That will allow
your past
From preventing
self-love
Be someone
that you will
Not have to
learn to love
When you can
GAURANTEE
THE REFLECTION
looking back
Is exactly who
You want to see
Often its
the in between
That is literally
the actual message
We can't, always be
focusing on literal terms
When we have
STRONG MINDS
to interpret what we see
Into what it means
Into what we believe
and everything in between
INTERPRET

— The End —