"misinformed" poems
I'm bleeding out
Almost empty
You spite me
You tried to **** me
Sorry, I should have told you
I'm immortal
I bathe in blood
Drink the souls of those who fail
I created evil
Gave birth to fear
Yet, you think it's simple
To end me here?
Hear that ringing in your head?
That's a sign
Soon enough, I'll have your life
It's mine!
I can't wait until the moment
I steal your breath
It's such a rush
My own ecstasy
Oh, don't even scream
No one cares
Not a single person will hear it
They just don't value life anymore
Haha! Isn't is funny?
It's all because of me!
Now, cry. Beg me!
I want to hear your suffering
It's nothing to be ashamed of
You were misinformed
You didn't know who I was
Now you see
Shh It's all over now
Don't worry dear
After you die
It won't sting
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 12:36 PM UTC
I'm not shocked.
I'm not surprised
Not in the world of racism.
We need it.
God created it.
When he created humans.
Who spreads it?
Through mistruth we adapt and adjust to it.
Some of us believes by it.
While others just don't buy it.
Not in the world of racism.
Through cultures we still to rumors.
Plus, those with wealth we feel they are no help.
When many uses those without to clean theirs houses.
Than many of us simple misinformed.
If you think racism doesn't harm everyone..
Jan 18, 2016
Jan 18, 2016 at 10:00 AM UTC
From the moment I took a breathe,
I was thrown into a narrow way of life.
Unfair way of thinking.
Stunting my progression.
I had to be the perfect little Mormon girl.
"Stand up straight.
Talk like a young lady."
I couldn't express my individuallaity.
Ironically the way god made me.
The words dug in deep perpetually.
"Your eyeliner is to deep you look like a harlet.
What the hell are you wearing?"
I dressed to **** and **** meant ***
*** made you a deformed unbloomed flower unless you were married.
I was misinformed constantly.
I didn't want to go to hell I wanted my family to support me.
I put on show for far to long trying to please everybody.
I couldn't understand why something so true and great could bring nothing but shame and misery.
I gave my everything and it was killing me.
I was drove to the fine line of insanity.
Free falling down so beautifully.
Finding myself in an erratic deranged way.
No longer following any man into the ground.
Keeping the firm heart within me.
Jun 23, 2016
Jun 23, 2016 at 8:39 PM UTC
some say im cynical
satanical
that my minds mechanical
diabolical
spoken essence erotical
detestable
jaded imagery hypnotical
unstoppable
liable to solve the unsolvable
while prodigal poets drown in their nautical modules
im a criminal
a cannibal
storming the street like an animal
shooting cannonballs
through prison walls
splattering the generals
in bathroom stalls
hostil
leave you poppin pain pills in the hospital
uncontrollable
my temper is flammable
mumbles illegible
choking you with your pentacle
leaving onlookers speckled
the abominable
mental protocols unstoppable
the unfeasible constable
shooting up the card table
willing and able
to call your fables
and smash apart a label
i raise babies in unstable cradles
let you bleed out
like cracked ladles
engorged in unholy wars
exploring
the corruption of the core
deplored
uniformed for
the clash of the double edge swords
taking control of vocal chords
a meet of the hordes
of the horned
misinformed
adorned
in sunlight
trying to shine
just 1 line
at a time
until my life signs decline
almost time
light and shadow combined
Horus and set
by hindsight blessed
yet to contest
to the rest of this mess
by melancholy caressed
as i arise unrest
from the cess
of the un confessed
blessed
Jul 9, 2012
Jul 9, 2012 at 6:14 AM UTC
Sharpeville, 21 March 1960
"The native mentality does not allow them
to gather for a peaceful demonstration.
For them to gather means violence."
- Lieutenant Colonel Pienaar
1.
We went with wrists ready
For metal shackles
To clench
Their cold grip
Onto fire hot skin
Boiling with white rage;
The appropriate rage.
This situation has justification
In the predications they hold true
Where to some
Human is synonymous with
******* nature,
Dangerous and hungry for
Light white blood we
Must be caged
To prevent the massacre
We could create.
2.
A child’s body is not a hurdle.
But when fleeing,
Feet pounding on dirt paths,
Black with dark blood, leaking
From shafts of taunting revolvers
And throats of the permanently
Silenced,
What do you do but run?
5,000 bodies bound together,
Melding flesh with flesh,
Fusing unhinged bones to bones
Still cradled in their skin,
Line the street where
Puddles are forming next to
Concaved skulls emptied
By misinformed bullets.
Last thoughts and worries
Are forever splattered on faces,
Tracing red lines
On skin
Sooty black,
As dark as nights will be.
3.
Sixty-nine lay dead.
A rock they said.
When interrogations
Took place
A rock they said.
Empty hands laid
Palm in palm
But a rock they said,
This, they said, sparked
The worry
That made it right for them
To make bullets fall
Onto us like metal raindrops
From an angry heaven
Hungry for black skin
And black blood.
Hands digging into earth
For retaliation,
For blood they said,
But everyone else said,
The rock that flew
Was in hands white as light
As bright as the day was
They say.
If the rocks they said that,
Spurned uniformed egos,
Flew from ground,
To air,
To gunned men like they said,
Does it justify the dead?
Nov 11, 2011
Nov 11, 2011 at 6:07 PM UTC
Maynard the Martyr
moored in the marshland
misrepresented
and misinformed
much maligned
melancholy
misfortunate and small-minded
unmotivated
a real Melvin –
macho magpies munch
mangos and marshmallows
in the moonlight
mired in muck and mud
misshapen
mutated
malformed
mushrooms
manifest momentarily
mocking Miss Marple –
marbleized Maples
mobilize
marching to madness
in moccasins
across Morocco
to Monico
or Mexico
perhaps Montana?
Mar 10, 2015
Mar 10, 2015 at 10:53 AM UTC
Blasphemous black cloud, though robust in look, just vapor proud,
You borrow belligerence from swirling west wind's boldness,
Remorselessly you prevent the Sun's extent of rule by limitless light,
You are malevolent to the world to whom sun is the only visible God,
Benevolently ruling the earth, synchronizing the cycles with his moves,
You only have a life too short, not fully aware of your own limits
Or taking in to account, the effulgence of the sun sustaining all,
Why rebel, ever thought about the result of such an impulsive act?
Apr 17, 2016
Apr 17, 2016 at 10:23 AM UTC
Built a cage in a cage
as an olive branch for
those who wouldn't call her an animal,
but won't call her a person.
Built a metaphor to slay her sister,
like trying to walk while hammering
your own toes;
hobbled herself to the master's home,
and played with the master's playthings,
and ate the master's food,
and received the hard end
of the master's humor
with a smile.
We are misinformed creatures-
A bird with wings to fly, but no destination.
A wildcat that hunts only to ****
A serpent poisoned by it's own venom.
She traded hands to beat herself to death;
died with wrists broken,
lacy finger bones strewn across her throat.
No melody on her tongue.
Nobody dying to meet her.
Nobody is dying to meet us.
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 8:01 PM UTC
Allow me to be bold- brave prying eyes and bare all. Allow me to tamper with excommunication- to tempt ostracism- to tease trouble by talking of taboos... speaking of shushed subjects- oh, society's little secrets, the ones we're all willing to share. Allow me to expound on the lessons parents never wanted to teach- the lessons children are so eager to learn. The very act- the very word- that induces giggles, inspires poets, excites lovers, and makes or breaks "true bliss."
"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns." -V.N
*** a word constructed of three of the twenty-six letters that make the English language go round. On their own, quite harmless, but collectively- a jaw-dropping, blush-inspiring, shush-provoking combination. *** the ultimate caricature of love and all that is romantic- oh, just look at this tangle of thorns. Tangled- because we have turned the beauty into a beast- taken "the two will become one"- and rationalized- two will always be two- Not you, me or me, you. No, nothing bad can come of this.
*** used to make lies beautiful and truth obscured. Sold in society- the promoter of skin- condemned in the church- discouraged as sin. All the while, teenagers are toppling around- neck deep in lust- desperate to be loved- fumbling- tumbling into the open arms of the ultimate outlet. *** a shallow solution to a deeper problem- a gift given, unwrapped, re-wrapped, and given again. Allow me to attempt to untangle these thorns- when does making love become wrong?
When it makes heroes into harlots and turns the righteous into romantics- when it complicates the uncomplicated? When it manipulates insincerity to seem sincere- liberates itself from simple mathematics, why, the more the merrier, and forgets three's a crowd? Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, allow me to be ridiculed- expose myself as a hypocrite and define: It is when *** is misconstrued as a mere act of "love" that it becomes a crime.
Aug 1, 2010
Aug 1, 2010 at 3:18 PM UTC
I'm not into politics
i don't care who the president is
if you're a communist, go ahead.
i'm not into debates and rallies
i don't vote for one side, i'm three dimensional
i don't care for democracy, fascism,
or whatever it is you are putting
in my hair, underneath my fingernails.
I'm not into that volcano of
confusion and opinions, screeching for
security of the word "true" but
all i hear is the ringing in my
ears saying OPINION
and sure, i have a few
I like to think that everyone is
misinformed and my way is not left
but when religious ********
start the stabbing
they're going to go for the throats
of the sad souls that betrayed them
the cigar smoking;grunge wearing;music loving;peacemaking; hippies children
and i will survive the fight
because i had nothing to do with it?
no
i will never be a part of your
war
on policies
and your
****** hating
I will live my life as a lovechild
in a perfect world
where there are no idiots waving their ***** around.
these are
happy days we live in
Aug 16, 2011
Aug 16, 2011 at 6:28 PM UTC
You or I could be lepers.
Or hideously deformed.
If we are it shouldn't matter.
Photography, mixed up and twisted.
Reborn.
Pictures misted.
Just who are you chatting to today?
Mentally.
physically.
internet voices.
Distorted.
Misinformed choices.
Maybe just genuine liars,
Getting kicks.
Turning tricks
Preying on others.
Taking the biscuit.
You could be an angel
Or one who follows you on cycle paths,
(PSYCHOPATHS)
Mental health issues falling out off your ears.
No problem with mental health issues.
Been there.
Done it.
Or better still put them onto your paper.
Best place to put them.
If you ask me.
Maybe a sliver of communion wafer.
Selling religion for half a crown.
Maybe half a silver dollar.
Ripping you off.
While doffing his hat.
Pretending to be,
What you can't see.
Words of naïveté.
From she who is down.
Unless you really know the one on the screen.
Be ever so careful and I'm not being mean.
(c) Livvi MMCV
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 8:01 PM UTC
In these restless days
we fight
for a bigger picture;
more broad of a scope,
to pull back the curtain.
We're building potential,
with preceding
relentless
force,
through these
mental worlds.
Strutting around
savvy *****
sauntering by
like we know
no better.
Selling ourselves
one phony token
at a time
to a Devil
wearing leather
stilettos.
Insulting our own
intelligences
by propagating
more absurd nonsense
to the masses.
We are institutionalized;
stricken
with a historic fate
that deep seated roots
reminds us
does not need
repeating.
Be the founder
of your mind;
your
house of cards.
Inhale completely,
releasing the one breath
that matters;
yours.
Smile and worry not,
you have only destroyed
the home
the misinformed
have built for you.
Pick up the Aces
and begin again.
Jun 8, 2014
Jun 8, 2014 at 3:12 PM UTC
**** stained drainpipe
raining pain
unexplained sameness
expressed
in veiny legs
egg salad crustacean
situationally challenged
prophetic procreator
bending spoons
and your will
shill trolls on and on
seeking weakness
tweeking while twerking
discolored molars twinkle
baboons ***
shiner dines on refined lime
mining dimes
unwound ground cover
lamenting
lack of green
queen like boy toy bounds across the turnpike
exhilarated and misinformed
dorm room ****
forlorn
sounding horn born of jazzy lips
quips to the mainstream
hipsterism is like a disease
complete with rashes and bumpy outbreaks
15 century rake awaits her date
and is placed on the stake
for a belief in an alternative
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 7:38 PM UTC
Transferring action lit by dim candlelight
Forming sentences by the wind
A tall tale underneath painted purple bed sheets
Mysteries of life and the gatekeeper's lazy hand
A transference of love through the page
Bringing images by words and meter
Peter tempting Gabriel two times or more
Contracts ripped in half by two lover's quarrel
Necessary are these hours
Staring far into the stars
Nodding not into sleep, for
That
Is too easy
I nod for the scent of freshly shampooed wet hair
Or the glance of the eye downward from shyness
A tell that all is not stable, though both are quite able
To take what they will if they wanted if they could
An annoyance
Like the ***** of a finger on a rose petal
Ironic
Like stubbing one's toe
On your recently bought golden toilet bowl
Fresh are you, fruit of the Mid west
The snow in your hair never melts
Consequence beseeches you, fair angel
My heart is but a spool of yarn, fallen and tangled
Quick, in first gear
To the rear go the spears
Holy water pipes and
Misinformed volcanoes are but a wish
To see destruction
On what we familial souls
Claiming belief in what we love
What does one need other then
A room with a key and lock?
These men and women who flock
To shiny office and cloud piercing cathedrals
Are mere coffins ***** and metal
Lost in flight
Reaching for a moon that does not wish
To house us
Another night passes.
The dawn is quick to rise.
Mornings moon disappears
From sight behind the trees
And the marble fountain made
For the phantom of petty monarchy.
And though the phrase
Is spoken in a nightingales song
Does not mean that a razor doth hide
Underneath the tip of the
Very same tongue
Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 2:29 AM UTC
Misconception. Misconstrued. Misdirected. Misinformed.
I may be mistaken, but I won’t miss you.
I. Don’t. Understand.
I’m not playing your little game of cat and mouse.
Go find a rat to infect with your false charm and winsome character.
My IQ may not be 130 but I know a thing or two.
And I’m not likening the likes of you.
You are in hiding; don’t deny it … I know you are.
I can see it behind your eyes.
There are doors and bolts and locks galore.
You often change them when you don’t want to feel anymore.
Maybe it hurts you to feel. Anything?
I’m not sure, not sure of anything now that I know that every lie you make could be as easy as the breathes you take.
Your lips may say happy but your eyes reveal who you really are: dead, weak and false.
You know far too much to tell, yet your lips stay sealed, as if magically sustained of repeating information, well about you anyway.
You never want to talk about yourself.
Egotistic ?
You ?
NEVER.
Yet you speak non of it.
I can feel it radiating of your skin
Your pride.
It’s quite maddening.
Feb 26, 2011
Feb 26, 2011 at 7:09 PM UTC
I washed my hair for the first time in three weeks and
learned to stop walking on tiptoes
I am the bitter taste at the back of your throat.
Some nights, I turn on every light in the house and sit awake picking skin
from my chapped lips
I am full-circle and puncture wounds.
I wanted to be the girl to wear her heart on her sleeve but
my armband was embroidered with a ********
I was misinformed. Romanticised.
There isn't romance in 4am shudders, in skin stuck to the teal sofa or the sweat between my
shoulder blades. In yellow stained fingers nicotine or black stained lungs tar.
For protection, I tried pouring a ring of salt - and found myself
sitting cross-legged on the floor
rubbing salt into my wounds
No ritual can protect me from myself.
Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 12:07 PM UTC
somber steps
of a misinformed man
knowing without knowing
is worse than the end.
'youre wrong about me'
he says a final word
scraping against my lips
but no longer settling so deep
that i am succumbed and entangled.
because of this long term unsettling
i am far from safe
i dove for discomfort
i was compelled to compromise
results are obsolete
when no one wants to change
our future holds the objects we carry
displaced by
misfortune in time.
i am the depth
i am the road
i am the impossible
you long to hold.
Mar 10, 2010
Mar 10, 2010 at 9:29 AM UTC
I looked at the half moon last night
It was crying, it had lost a friend
It might take years for those tears to get here,
They are on their way
The moon lost a buddy, Neil Armstrong.
The only human foot to touch its surface
The moon has lost a buddy today, and sheds tears
Tears, not only for the loss, but for the earth.
Imagine going through the cycle month after month
Year after year
And watching the earth in denial
Misinformed leaders or wannabe leaders
Destroying the earth for profit
Not caring for the poor, the sick, the imprisoned
The moon has lost a buddy, will she lose the earth?
by ko shin Bob Hanson
Sep 3, 2012
Sep 3, 2012 at 11:48 PM UTC
Fibromyalgia
Fibromyalgia is an illness that often besets
Women and men who can not help themselves
It's a syndrome that causes great pain and distress
It even causes its victims to feel overwhelmed
And cold damp weather only increases the chance
That muscles will cramp and increase the stress
And though one looks the same at a glance
They really are in pain that no one would guess
Often people are misinformed and act so curt
And expect us to address everything at top form
When each small movement inflicts such hurt
That often we just can't even meet the norm
I, for one, am tired of people telling me
Get out of bed and do your part
When I really want to depart and flee
And hide my sick and broken heart
They can't see I'm trying my best
To hold onto some kind of life
But all their scoffing makes it a test
When will I be done with this awful strife
For me, each day is a long hard trial
I sometimes find life hard to face
I often think it's not worthwhile
Running this kind of pain-filled race
Mar 12, 2020
Mar 12, 2020 at 3:25 PM UTC
You watched your life, Flickering through the trees
I heard your pain, Whistling in the breeze
You were only seventeen, Curiosity in reams
The wood was the place, where you were misinformed
You were naive, I'll shelter you from the storm
You were only seventeen, Curiosity in reams
*It is time you stood against the treachery and grime
You lost your innocence but soon the bells will chime
Please open up your heart because loving is not a crime
And just maybe one day you will be free,
I know someday you will be free*
You bore that child, Sent her out into the world
Make sure she is safe, Like a sail that has been furled
She will soon be seventeen, Let her follow all your dreams,
And let your tarnished halo gleam.
*Then she will be free,
Then you will be free*
(September 2010)
Sep 21, 2010
Sep 21, 2010 at 4:30 PM UTC
Everlasting light
Sure the sunrise was beautiful
but what is beauty if it cannot be shared?
Rescinding fright
The mobbing mass bowed down
and to whom do you pledge allegiance?
Freckled henpecked nest-eggs
to the shrinking violet water chestnut teenage idol
and therein did we all see the frightened eyes
with secret stories to share
An instruction guide to the misinformed soul
of how to lower your false flags to half mast
Cover-up sweetheart, the eve is a cold and lonely one
Eternal night
A perpetuation of political ideology
what due course is this, that your people are slayed in the street?
Aug 14, 2015
Aug 14, 2015 at 12:51 PM UTC
lines of malice are penned
within ancient tomes
black and blue ink bruising
the human psyche beyond recognition
stunting our collective imagination
with fantasies of castles
among the clouds and intergalactic
beings who sculpted us from dust
intermittent smears
of crimson declarations
lingering in blood-soaked texts
painting portraits of putrid prejudice
the image of an illusory deity
devised to explain a cosmos
that defies codification and categorization
we mythologized and told tall tales like Arachne
spinning webs of misinformed misfortune
we're severing the strings of our imaginary enemies
silencing lives with rusty shears
utterly convinced by the edicts of idiots
how might we disentangle ourselves from mental
cobwebs and embrace reality's promising veracity
each of us an accidental miracle
captains of our own fortune's vessels
so weigh anchor and set course for distant shores
unfurl the sails of reason and hold fast
after weathering millennia of insipid beliefs
we'll sojourn ever onward with omnipotent minds
raze these sycophantic fantasies
and raise hell so high it becomes heaven
we will build a new city in the shell of this cold
dead society predicated on misanthropic religion
Mar 27, 2016
Mar 27, 2016 at 9:40 AM UTC
they said, "take a step back and look at the big picture." but I forgot to mention I was already standing with my back to a canyon of regrets, heels at the edge.
Mar 3, 2013
Mar 3, 2013 at 12:08 PM UTC