"sarcasticbong" poems
I never existed. You know, I never did.
It was all an elaborate illusion.
I have been told to play. No, I had no intention of robbing you of your emotions or perception. I just wanted to find myself.
I realised this so-called universe couldn’t provide me with meaning or perhaps it had none to offer, so I made up characters for every one of them I met, and yet I failed miserably to know myself. Fear of not understanding myself consumed me into nothingness.
“I'm tied to the rocking chair.
I don't need to be ******* cared for.
They said my dumb stars weren't aligned. Even those Scripted Zodiac stones won't get it right.”
Every time someone came along, I put up a new character, a charade to please their needs in the hope of finding myself, but I never did every single time I couldn't understand why
What lines did I miss or the script didn't work?
series of phobias bombarded my surroundings, making me speak gibberish.
My half-baked memories aren’t mine; different personas tangled within one, saying love isn't our thing, hate, jealousy, why do you need such things?
Emotions are a burden, a limitation on brains.
For centuries, nut-sized cytomegaloviruses have argued over fictitious beings.
I don't find sense in these trivial things.
©sarcasticbong
Either I can go to sleep or I accept myself as part of this illusion.
Jul 5, 2022
Jul 5, 2022 at 2:46 PM UTC
It's 3 a.m
My eyes aren't tried ,
I was deep into your thoughts that I became vulnerable to read.
I wanted to tell all the possible stuff you ever wondered about me.
I tried to seek solace in you,
You were in the dark,
How could I believe you?
I can't just believe a voice.
So I started to make you through my imagination and you know what happened,
The picture I made was of her,
...and then it said, you haven't moved on baby.
©sarcasticbong
May 30, 2017
May 30, 2017 at 12:50 PM UTC
Song of ****
Things got wrong
Black dark sky
Landed on D2371.
This void soul
Dark matter shatter
Who are you?
A question perhaps
Trapped in screenshot
Living in simulation
Talk of town
Who's this sarcasticbong?
Dumb dumb
Looking for show
It's hidden flow
Blinded earthlings go.
Multiple parallel riff
Colours popping gif
Can't you niff
Awake your clairvoyance.
Narrate your story
Mock theosist lore
So called influencer
Hide your favorites
Blame to others
Boycott with hastags
Real is bluff
Everything good, me
Everything bad, you
Rhyming with tagline
Someone tagged you.
fyoo-cher
haz-bin
kom-pruh-mahyzd.
©sarcasticbong
Jun 29, 2020
Jun 29, 2020 at 2:25 PM UTC
The universe makes random jokes
Like, to know me is a curse
My personalities make it worse.
The introvert in me is ugly painted with gloomy clouds, stalking demons in the alley loves to mourn as a firstborn sick With numb eyes flick,
tears don't exist anymore.
The extrovert in me is silly painted with colours people never been seen, his smile is flawless and always wander around clueless about why he smiles.
The **** in me is a song or people like to call it wrong, a yearlong gong he writes 'lol' in people's wall with a fluffy cloud inside his brain,
it reads tetrahydrocannabinol,
notorious for his vocabulary,
can **** with an epistolary.
The Dib is a broken rib, spoon-feed bib
He writes out of syllabus with sketchy nib,
runs in a solo trip his life says 'rofl'.
©sarcasticbong
May 25, 2021
May 25, 2021 at 2:08 PM UTC
Recipe for making a ****
"The God of Unknown"
Ingredients:
× Half a dozen of personalities
× A spoonful of Unknown questions
× 2/3 of darkness from Svalbard
× A Jar full of pain from the rain
× A whole book of poetries called Unlove
× Freshly hand-picked Metaphors
× A pinch of verses dipped in curses
Even before starting the recipe, it could intoxicate you, to be safe until the end be patience and forget you have a heart to love.
Procedure:
Heat the cast iron pan on high flames,
Pour the pain boil it until you see bubbles,
then drop one by one all the personalities stir it well on low flames,
an ebullient aroma will start to fill the room
Now add a spoonful of Unknown questions, Questions that have souls attached to them be careful they might jump over you.
Now take the book cut through the pages,
book of poetries in a zig-zag pattern,
like the wrist of a lover who wrote poetries to hate her but couldn't Unlove her,
Now turn the flames to high and add 2/3 of the darkness from Svalbard an Ingredient that keeps the balance of the entity, stir until everything has been mixed well
Take a pinch of verses dipped in curses toss the pan and sprinkle the magic portion, an Ingredient that makes ripple in the timeline of every multiverse to relive the moments,
Finally, Garnish with freshly hand-picked Metaphors only for the ones persistence for the worthiness.
Eureka
Your, **** has been created.
©sarcasticbong
Apr 15, 2021
Apr 15, 2021 at 5:01 AM UTC
I cried and cried through out my path every single story that touch my heart, wrap around a wave of emotions they sat with me to narrate their unread fictions.
I walk and walk till the wall where all the numb body's lying around blood smudged, cut through the heart
they sat with me to narrate their heartache.
I sat by them
I sat by them all and i could feel their pain is mine, tears rolled down the cheeks burning my heart lifeless.
©sarcasticbong
Aug 22, 2017
Aug 22, 2017 at 4:51 AM UTC
I carried dead bodies inside my head,
Walking through the narrow thoughts people look confused at the attire of truth,
Flesh covered with white odours numbness trying to sneak around
Mournful cries cried aloud in a loop
The question was asked, lost into imagination and never answered.
'Clutched river banks, fire no thanks'.
Tykes barking live nine trying to save Hat of hierarchy, fueling the odds so-called frauds.
Days are counted by numb bodies fleet
Should I laugh or cry like the undead realm.
'I am not a manic don't be panic, you must be galvanic, a thought bad bot'.
These after images crashes lashes eyes popped flashes, do you mind looking around what you see?
This is what I do stitch pain with blood smudged hands, and smile like it's a good day.
©sarcasticbong
May 17, 2021
May 17, 2021 at 2:14 PM UTC
Laughing little man
With no sense at all
Mysteries in his pocket
Breaking, Building
Cosmos apart.
Laughing little man
Friends with noman
Meaningless, stringless
I haven't changed at all
Flashing images of the past
Broken apart so many times.
Laughing little man
Turn your head
Moment of attention
Laying on the lane
Don't you remember ?
Laughing little man
Forget, upset, reset.
©sarcasticbong
Jun 29, 2020
Jun 29, 2020 at 2:28 PM UTC
I have to tell you something.
It's not the first time,
I have slit my wrist with my favourite knife, watch it spill over the bathtub, and then covered it up with the stickers from my collection.
It's not the first time,
I have tried to jump off from the 9th floor of that abandoned building near our playground but the guard always caught me, maybe I need to find a new building.
It's not the first time,
Love had knocked my door even before
It was bright at first and then it went to be dark and darker, it made tears rolled down somewhere beneath the skin, heart have cried and cried no one could see it.
©sarcasticbong
Oct 26, 2017
Oct 26, 2017 at 4:20 AM UTC
I was loved thrice
The first time it happened, it left me with a broken heart taught lessons worth to learn for the one or many more to come,
Made me forgot my own reflection and left with a pair of small words 'you will get someone better than me' has been on loop in my head since then.
I was loved thrice
The second time it walked in the lane, it promised to never leave the home, it tried to fix lost pieces of the broken heart, and gave hope of a new moon, but then left with a more complexed pieces of broken heart and bones to survive in a sky with no stars.
I was loved thrice
The third time it came with a crown, no words were exchanged it made all those love songs meant something again, taught me to stand with those broken bones, talks were never ending and time took a break of it's work.
...and like that I was loved thrice but fell in love once.
©sarcasticbong
Oct 26, 2017
Oct 26, 2017 at 4:18 AM UTC
Dear,
Diary
I'm Sorry for that night,
when the stars screamed and fall apart,
I burned you into ashes,
I wanted her memories to burn,
not you.
All those poems, proses
I had inked of her beauty.
Her eyes that made me vulnerable.
Her voice that took me to dreamland,
Are into ashes now, with you.
You would dissolve into air.
Maybe reborn inside me,
And give me a sweet sleep of her memories.
©sarcasticbong
Jul 16, 2017
Jul 16, 2017 at 8:24 AM UTC
Long back ago
I survived the human race
So here i lay on my peaceful bed.
My neighbours are quite polite
and no false pretences.
They live by their own,
No words are uttered,
only burning candles flickers.
I wish for a new moon light scared of the sky bleeding black.
Nights runs with rhyming of darkness,
The celestial chills keep me numb,
Crops sleep throughout the day long
My family arrives on weekends for a sneak peak, they bring flowers for a dead men's sake.
©sarcasticbong
Jul 8, 2017
Jul 8, 2017 at 1:42 PM UTC
Dennis the Menace
Turning light, burning berries
Sharing stories of the fairies
Calling its lore,
did you found them on
the fallen shore.
No, they were written on papyrus
By the centuries-old Cytomegalovirus.
Crack-heads smoking *** vivid imaginations are they moral compass.
Bang! Skip to the future
Reaper deeper leader neither speaker
Vocal sounds like a viper
My words **** like a ******
Hideaway from the truth
Put on your shady glasses of confute.
©SARCASTICBONG
Aug 10, 2020
Aug 10, 2020 at 3:47 AM UTC
I can write the happiest story,
I can write a sad one too,
I'm a writer, sometimes I fake and create the imaginary world around me.
Don't get too much attached to me,
I have nothing to give you,
More than a happy ending in my imaginary world.
©sarcasticbong
May 30, 2017
May 30, 2017 at 12:49 PM UTC
When the clock strike at 3.00 am,
Get yourself a glass of red wine,
Get your sword, ink it.
Bear in mind the heartache,
Fight throughout the pages.
Let the writer in you win,
Let her die in your poem.
Create your own time line,
Where you aren't ripped off.
©sarcasticbong
Jul 10, 2017
Jul 10, 2017 at 6:46 PM UTC
I'm ******* beyond repair
Birds flying in pairs
Sky
Blue
Yellow
Green
This lock down making me maniacal
On the edge of the night hearing satanical
Crushed herbs calling out my name
Fluppy clouds again over my head
Burning rage beneath the rib cage.
Image
Engage
Backstage
Trapped in a loop of bootstrap paradox
I never created this ,yet sill exists.
Pass in on imagination wearing off.
©sarcasticbong
Jun 29, 2020
Jun 29, 2020 at 2:30 PM UTC