"misdirections" poems
A labyrinth expands before me,
Its only prize, the truth; reality
Awaits the shrewd of mind.
At every turn lie misdirections,
One wrong choice and I am
Lost, for perils lie ahead;
Webs of lies lie waiting for their prey.
I pray for wisdom that I may not fall,
Misguided by a ghost I thought I saw;
My own illusions turn me from the light.
The path ahead is cobbled from the shadows,
Bits of truth among them shining gold,
The only light to guide my weary feet
As Darkness beckons me with gentle hands.
Temptation offers respite from my search:
“Sit down and rest, poor ragged
traveler, you search in vain
For worthless lies. I tell the truth;
One as beautiful as I is honest, sure.”
I pay no heed. The truth is rarely beautiful or pure.
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 12:37 AM UTC
Life is full of mischief and artful trickery
The way through never made easy for the foolhardy
Misleading gestures only employed to solely distract
Left up to you to decipher and hopefully extract
Experiences teach much, had you only been accepting and learning
That a dove could be made to appear; out of thin air, out of nothing
When the road ahead offers no more than mere misdirections
Altered trajectories stemming from convenient misinterpretations
Your cards may have been dealt revealing astonishing outcomes
"Not the hand you get but the game you play," said some
Depending on deft wrists and a flick of the wand
Overnight you'll wake to find that a new day had dawned
Only would happen if into the wind you hadn't spat
Hope would emerge like a hare out of a top hat
The play on light and shadow, nothing short of dramatic
You volunteer onstage, accompanied by apprehension and suspenseful music
Faced with an eager audience; you realise that alone you stand
Be not surprised to learn that love is life's sleight of hand...
Sep 4, 2014
Sep 4, 2014 at 8:22 AM UTC
whom do you trust
solider, sailor, tinker, tailor....
what eyes see the meaning of the blind
what tongues listen...which lies
in the picturesque morning
beauty spins its deceptions with golden hued sunlight
weaves its hand puppet theatricals made of
fleeting wisps of smiles
kissing gestures weakly delivered
solider, sailor, tinker, tailor...
they gather round the dead man
some come to mourn the lost
some come to rifle through his pockets
some come to silently wait for their own fate
he sits in his worn chair
in a pool of lamplight
with a small hammer in hand
his spectacles on bridge of his nose
tapping tapping ever so gently the thin metal mask
tinker...tailor...sailor...solider
the uniform of his mind shifts according to his lie
his tool is always the deceptions and misdirections
a sly smile...firm handshake...a signature style
'to whom do you trust' is a phrase that troubles him
her perfume lingers in the air
years have buried the cold war
but not its warriors
not their handiwork
they dress the dead man for his burial
with his decorations and platitudes
with his shiny sword and neat uniform
with honors they lay him
with truths his secret they bury him
why did he do thus....to whom did he answer
to the tomb with his truths and lies
to the tomb
he gathers the long coat
and the umbrella
walks out in london's chill spring night
to a bridge
and throws a small box into the river
long years after the cold war died
these men of shadows still play
these keepers of the gate still watch for hannibal and his horde
solider, sailor, tinker, tailor
whom do you trust
Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 11:03 AM UTC
I live my life
for the jolts and tingles
the prickling of skin
and the involuntary wrinkles
I live my life
for instances of bliss and euphoria
the experiences that floor ya
for the moments of clarity
when I make plans with sincerity
whether or not accomplishment,
may indeed be a rarity
I live my life
for the sensular shudder
of the feminine other
for the flashing and thrashing
and skin-tingling flutter
for those shots to be made
without use of a putter
I live my life
for new connections and epiphanies
for misdirections and the mysteries
for all the questions without answers
like, why does life give you cancer?
according to the state of california.
I live my life
through a miasma of sidewalks
and ticking clocks
through drunken walks
and forgotten talks
for the chance of a Win
and the inevitable balks
I live my life
sometimes for him or for her
in sin or while pure
and without hope of a cure
for the human condition
"the human condition?"
you know, when the world says,
"assume the position!"
and your teacher says
"are you even listenin'?"
I live my life
for zoning out and finding Rules to flout
for the workings of my mind
the ability to rewind
analyze the times
and uncover the blinds
I live my life
Jan 15, 2013
Jan 15, 2013 at 6:49 PM UTC
We are trapped by our predisposed characteristics
Seemingly inescapable,
but little did you know it is nothing more than a facade,
Like an arrow that tells you where to go,
But your instincts tell you not to follow
the choice is always yours,
now choose the right course.
Apr 6, 2013
Apr 6, 2013 at 3:40 PM UTC
I met a girl, one day or night
who taught me how to live
An empty truth, you may observe
I hope you can forgive
She spoke of something more to me,
or so she did perceive
As demons sneer at angel's wings
when tripping on their sleeves
"Where have you been tonight my dear,
I trust you will not lie?
Because lying is a bow my dear,
I trust you cannot tie?"
Lost. I had no argument.
No angle could I find.
No brilliant light bulbs brilliant light.
No swift turn of the mind.
But, amidst my overanxious thoughts,
one detail sharply stood.
Of all my prior misdirections,
this one had to be good.
"I've walked in halls of marbled stone
and well carved wooden walls.
I've talked of nations fighting wars,
and when that they might fall"
"I've conversed the winter weather wild,
heard what spring may bring.
I've bolstered men who'd have fallen down,
sang with women who cannot sing".
"And now you nag nag nag at me,
when all I want is sleep!
Why can't you leave me well alone,
when towards my dreams I creep?"
"Oh! Please do forgive me,
My most almighty Tsar.
But must One sleep with One's head,
still resting on the bar?"
Sep 13, 2011
Sep 13, 2011 at 4:09 PM UTC
Simple thoughts for simple minds
Complex sights for the blinds
Blends of attractions and misdirections
Oh, so innocent are the imperfections
One, two
I said one and the lies begun
Two, three
I said two and there it comes the true
Three and nothing more
I said three 'cause I agree
I said nothing more 'cause I don't like the four
Knock, knock
Are you looking for the key?
Does this make any sence?
Well, life makes no sence!
But you may find the key in the i
n
n
o
c
e
n
c
e of simple thoughts
Mar 22, 2012
Mar 22, 2012 at 5:06 PM UTC
And I don't know how many days have passed since the moment I started wondering about the tempest that came with the realization of existence.
And I don't know how many hours of those days I wondered about whether I was the spawn being played on the chessboard, or whether I was the knight that was eliminated.
And I don't know how many minutes of those hours I spent burning myself with the matchstick that would soon be incinerated like the string of emotions within me, nor do I know of whether I am the pheonix, or whether I am merely its ashes that were washed away with the rain. And I do not know how many seconds of those minutes I sought refuge in, nor have I paid any heed to the spasms that overtook me on the bridges in the photographs of the yesterdays. And I know not of how many lives I led in those seconds. And in those minutes, my memory fades unto, and in those hours, I write the stories, and in those days, I throw the paints onto the streets, so that they flow through the nooks and crannies and spread a few colours that I knew not of, for all I really knew was that my insomnia visited me when I missed you the most.
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 2:57 PM UTC
<>
reversed a verse from “Like a Rolling Stone;
~complements to Mr. B. Dylan, a Nobel man~
you, me, hear what you’re hearing, feeling it,
you, me, hear what you’re thinking, feeling that,
regenerating, excising, pinching a single word of Bobby’s
lyricizing, knowing, you’ve just handbag-snatched a poem full.
the rolling stone sings of next meal scrounging,
he’s talking to you, knowing you, you customizing
his lyrics modifying-jiggering, for your purposeful brain,
emotional crazed notions, your monsanto seed of needs and strains.
*nah, I’m fibbing, polite-ly lying,
like clover waves springing up
overnight after a night’s soaking,
raining, picking up hints, misdirections, clues,
*** poem titles dripping from my glassy eyes!
des idées for the next poem, the one, in the garden hereafter,
now called thereafter, all arriving in tranches, backyard bunches,
just to write down the titles fast enough, sometimes, trouble,
oft easy, sometimes rough, but always a fast rush jiggling job.*
yeah, I’m liking that word, scrounging,
got character, internal noises aclashing,
so I’m scrounging
while lounging , it’s so ******* easy,
it’s getting borrowed till you! steal
it out from under me,
like an ill reputed
good poet should...
P.S. don’t keep me waiting!
let the scrounging commencin’
tw36
Jun 22, 2020
Jun 22, 2020 at 4:38 PM UTC
Obviously there has been some misplaced affection, a slight calculation of misdirection. See there is so much attraction yet your actions tell me you're only looking for attention. Not to mention your constant desire for attention, puts me in a position where I have to make a decision...
You aren't worth the mental condition, the constant strain to make sure you are alright to function, because with you there is no assumptions, especially with your depression.
I won't let it become an obsession that has possession over my mind.
I've got my own distractions, got my own reactions, I have my own complexion, my own limitation.
My own corrections, to every day life.
My own explanations, that give reasons to this.
Though every bit of preparation could not prepare me for this feeling still. The want to have motivation, the want to be apart of a beautiful creation. The need to feel great appreciation, the need to have greater expectations.
The world has ever only been a depressing gravitation, putting every bit of joy at mass extinction. There are always going to be hesitations to do what makes us happy.
There will forever be misdirections on our paths, unavailable to direct corrections.
I only have one question, of a simple fashion, where did you come from, my beautiful misdirection.
D. L. Smith 1/16/2017
Jan 16, 2017
Jan 16, 2017 at 8:11 PM UTC
Too simple for actions
Too complicated for words,
Too much in my head
Permeates even through
The peanut butter on this bread,
These thoughts are waxed
Philosophical economical perspective,
On oh so jaded misdirections
Suggestions that I took to heart,
Listened to no one because they
Don't pay my bills, heart was always
In command, but I hold no one
Accountable, but I, I alone
Stepped down to follow
Her, and her alone
With very little
Broke me down
Walls of clay
Malleable
But she walked away
And dry, dried I did
Gained my composure
Once more,
But brittle I remain
Waiting for
That sledgehammer
From a song
A place, a memory,
That'll come
And powder me
All over,
Wait until
The tears rain
Puddle me back
To mud
All together again...
© okpoet
Mar 16, 2013
Mar 16, 2013 at 11:05 PM UTC
People never see the future
They just focus on the Was
We live without reasons
Just end all on Because
Just take the shovel and bury all
Our life's nothing just bachelor of laws
I should've, I could've, I would've is what we know
No one stops and lives, they just lost the glow
We surround ourselves with people who we want
I don't even care is now our favorite flaunt
Our world is defined by comment sections
Made so many routes and all are misdirections
Why do we don't challenge how we wanna be?
Just running and hiding has become our spree
The real you is not defined by the size of your office
The real you is who you are even with empty pockets
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 12:36 PM UTC
surprising misdirections
palliate these
inadequacies.
floral hearts, echoic,
right in the
unspoiled
middle.
Jun 16, 2019
Jun 16, 2019 at 4:42 AM UTC
I don’t think you care that daddy had too many drinks that night. His intoxicated soul enwrapped me with bruises and scars that will never go away.
I don’t think you care that ***** got locked out of my room, and I feel more guilty than everyone because I was not there to protect her.
I don’t think you realize that my biggest insecurity is labeled with a capital DAD entangled in my toxic heart.
Who said dads were supposed to be there for you?
My dad was at the kitchen table telling us to eat or else.
My dad was the dad who would rather chose a bottle of Gin over his family.
My dad was the one who lit the fire in my lungs, clattering up the debris, making it hard to breathe.
In all honesty, I never really learned how to breathe.
I was taught by hyperventilating cries, red puffy eyes, where everyone lies, to black and blue oceans covering up my spine
I was taught by a collision in my brain, because I can’t help the dagger that’s stuck way too deep from misfortunes and misdirections.
I was taught that no one but myself could be trusted because sooner then you know it, you might be the one jumping off the edge.
Even with all the alcoholic rivers leading up to my room, from all the red stains flowing down my limbs.
Flows.
Did you just enjoy the flow of the venom that you injected into your veins?
Did you enjoy becoming a monster?
Did you enjoy the river flow that with every wave drowned us a little more.
Did you enjoy never becoming my father.
Feb 12, 2016
Feb 12, 2016 at 11:29 PM UTC
Sunshine, cigarettes and amphetamine
Laid down between the rail trails
Bathing in the rays of our minds
We thrive and try, alas to no avail
We pray to stay relevant but fail
What a time to be alive
And all you can say,
Why do they cry.
Why indeed
Some may think it's greed
Pointing out what's happening
Around the world, millions of miserable people
And you who have everything they need
Still unhappy, still jealous
Restricted by your religion, your selfish beliefs
Supremacy takes priority
Who cares about minority
We're more qualified, there's no privilege
Come out of your realm of fairy tales
Only when you face the truth
Will you be able to.
Able to stop complaining
Blaming others for your misfortune
Yet it's a torture
Proportion of the magnitude
Prelude to the future awaiting you
It's true.
We all live under the same same sky
But consider that maybe yours is blue
While others are pressured by the gloom
Given no room to enjoy
Things you take for granted
And it would be blatant to say you never wanted
Because you don't know any better
How it would feel without it.
I've had enough
Now i stand up
Facing towards the bullet train
Forget about the pain
Veins full of *******
And as you move forward
You'll find the direction to the answers you were looking for.
Dec 2, 2017
Dec 2, 2017 at 8:16 AM UTC
She was born spectacular in every way
Eyes wide open and full head of hair
Doctor and nurses frozen in a stare
from the beginning oh so rare
and as she grew, even more amazing she was
more beautiful, more aware, smarter, more perceptive, and more smart
I knew that she would always be a work of art
explosions of stimuli bombaded her heightened ways
clinging to the love from her parents wanting her to play
What could change the way she saw the beauty of her core
group after group and their misdirections-where's the door?
I wanted to shelter her for I knew what might come
educate at home, stay away from the craziness of systems in place
but all my words were shunned by those in the race
and even my own marriage failed to replace
as the parents group was now bombarded
with challenges we slowly came unlaced
insensitive to brilliant awareness so clear in her view
Schools with their systems bowling over all but a few
Religion using force and hitting her when logic failed
Musical instructors trusted and even then, slapping entailed
Friends, family, mates, and dates all seemed fake
What was the truth was it me at stake
All that was trusted eventually failed
Leaving doubts of self when feeling your ship sailed
Pointing only to YOU compared to nothing outside
The glory of you is not what groups hide
Not in any comparison to all that was wrong
STILL SPECTACULAR IN EVERY WAY
THAT'S THE ONLY TRUE SONG
Jan 31, 2017
Jan 31, 2017 at 5:29 PM UTC
So you peered into my mind
Are you treating this as a joke
Are you here to feast on my imperfections?
Or perhaps you’re searching for my misdirections
They’res nothing there for you
Since the beginning, I’ve been empty
Even the moments I've smiled
They were all augmented
It’s amusing really
What you thought i was
Was probably a lie
Comedy to my ears
Alas i cannot laugh
I cannot chuckle
Not even a giggle
Nor a smile
In this world lies a few things
Seven swords
Broken dreams
And a rose
With each petal that sheds
From the rose, is a moment
Of my self-existence
That has been changed
On the ground there lies
One single monochrome petal
But it’s one you cannot pick up
For once you do
You’ll fade, it’ll fade
From me, from your hands
And once I, once you
Forget it all, remember it’s color
I will see, you’ll be blind to
Why you tried, why i lied
For me, to you.
That color..
May 27, 2020
May 27, 2020 at 10:58 AM UTC