"untrue" poems
Nothing to say? Nothing to say?
Oh catch yourself on.
Since when have you
Ever had nothing to say?
Liar liar
Or so they say.
But if your words be lies
Then why do you hide it?
Loner loner
That's what I am.
You say it's untrue
Well then why didn't you notice me gone?
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 5:32 PM UTC
Are you a friend?
A wolf
Or
A ****** sucker?
Your aim my money,
Your happiness,
When you get me well off
You kiss me tight
When everything is right
You say honey
When in my wallet is money
You say hi
When you think I'm high
Just get to know
That my heart is No
More a joke!
My mind You choke
You always leave it bleeding
I now go weeding,
All the suckers
All the parasites
All the untrue friends
The cheats
And
The liars
Are up rooted
I am now new
I am genuine
Faithful to myself
I
Am
In need
Of a true
Self coexisting
And a mutual benefiting friendship!
Defined by true love,
Sacrifice
Devotion
Love unconditional
And
Development!
Jan 23, 2015
Jan 23, 2015 at 12:04 AM UTC
Life has run away from me as I play this game of chance.
One at a time you have fallen before me, you fabled soulmates.
The scars run deep, my heart crusted over with the soles of those
who have so carelessly trod on my lifeblood.
You who have made me, could you not have shown me the danger of a love untrue?
I have been chained to the players of hearts throughout all time.
You have been quiet for too long. Can you not hear my call?
Why do you keep silent in my time of need? Why do I not hear your comfort, your voice?
My soul calls out to find a love that binds with more than a gilded ring,
created from a spirit so true, intertwining with mine and becoming my own.
I’ve searched my whole life through for such a love;
one who is drawn to the life and soul of the me within.
Aug 24, 2012
Aug 24, 2012 at 2:40 AM UTC
I can still hear your lisp
the way it covered every "r" you sounded
bare skin under mist, your eyes
matched your hair
the first, all blue raspberry stained lips
the second, pure spring sky
Never before, had I loved the rain,
as much as when we ran through it
we let the downpour soak our clothes
and congruent, thunder couldn't scare us
we felt naked, or I did,
but I didn't mind it
to be naked with you
was all that I wanted
Never before, had I looked at a girl,
and wanted to hold her, the way I held you
suddenly, the laws I believed in felt
paperclip thin, and completely untrue
it didn't take much strength
to twist every one of them
into a shapeless and easily
ignorable pile of waste
You knew the flags of every country
as if your allegiance was to the entire world
I wanted it to be to me
only
and I think I knew that it was,
but that doesn't mean
I didn't want you to say it
Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 3:23 PM UTC
Like a bird on the wire,
like a drunk in a midnight choir
I have tried in my way to be free.
Like a worm on a hook,
like a knight from some old fashioned book
I have saved all my ribbons for thee.
If I, if I have been unkind,
I hope that you can just let it go by.
If I, if I have been untrue
I hope you know it was never to you.
Like a baby, stillborn,
like a beast with his horn
I have torn everyone who reached out for me.
But I swear by this song
and by all that I have done wrong
I will make it all up to thee.
I saw a beggar leaning on his wooden crutch,
he said to me, "You must not ask for so much."
And a pretty woman leaning in her darkened door,
she cried to me, "Hey, why not ask for more?"
Oh like a bird on the wire,
like a drunk in a midnight choir
I have tried in my way to be free.
11.4k
Between today and tomorrow lives a lifetime
Between today and yesterday seems untrue
Yet, here, in this moment, lies perfection
A glance feels an eternity
Doubt is squelched by honest emotion
And reality breathes in time with our hearts
Oct 22, 2011
Oct 22, 2011 at 10:18 AM UTC
It's energy in the morning
Energy at night.
Getting me through work.
Always by my side
Doesn't speak, doesn't
Judge my actions.
Simply there always.
Unless I don't have money to buy it.
I could say it's like alcohol
But more addictive.
"I can stop anytime" I say
But that's untrue
It's my friend
In the simple green and red can.
Only one other knows my obsession
We share it
And that is why we remain friends.
Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 9:16 AM UTC
I am much too alone in this world, yet not alone
enough
to truly consecrate the hour.
I am much too small in this world, yet not small
enough
to be to you just object and thing,
dark and smart.
I want my free will and want it accompanying
the path which leads to action;
and want during times that beg questions,
where something is up,
to be among those in the know,
or else be alone.
I want to mirror your image to its fullest perfection,
never be blind or too old
to uphold your weighty wavering reflection.
I want to unfold.
Nowhere I wish to stay crooked, bent;
for there I would be dishonest, untrue.
I want my conscience to be
true before you;
want to describe myself like a picture I observed
for a long time, one close up,
like a new word I learned and embraced,
like the everyday jug,
like my mother's face,
like a ship that carried me along
through the deadliest storm.
8.5k
Jealousy, the venomous and deceptive emotion.
The mountainous trouble, the worry gone through,
to get to this height, then see it claimed as untrue.
The force of jealousy, can overpower most minds,
it takes hold of desire, and leads thoughts askew,
until believing wrong, is the right thing to do.
Dec 27, 2010
Dec 27, 2010 at 10:01 PM UTC
How dull the wretch, whose philosophic mind
Disdains the pleasures of fantastic kind;
Whose prosy thoughts the joys of life exclude,
And wreck the solace of the poet's mood!
Young Zeno, practis'd in the Stoic's art,
Rejects the language of the glowing heart;
Dissolves sweet Nature to a mess of laws;
Condemns th' effect whilst looking for the cause;
Freezes poor Ovid in an iced review,
And sneers because his fables are untrue!
In search of hope the hopeful zealot goes,
But all the sadder tums, the more he knows!
Stay! Vandal sophist, whose deep lore would blast
The grateful legends of the storied past;
Whose tongue in censure flays th' embellish'd page,
And scorns the comforts of a dreary age:
Wouldst strip the foliage from the vital bough
Till all men grow as wisely dull as thou?
Happy the man whose fresh, untainted eye
Discerns a Pantheon in the spangled sky;
Finds sylphs and dryads in the waving trees,
And spies soft Notus in the southern breeze
For whom the stream a cheering carol sings,
While reedy music by the fountain rings;
To whom the waves a Nereid tale confide
Till friendly presence fills the rising tide.
Happy is he, who void of learning's woes,
Th' ethereal life of bodied Nature knows;
I scorn the sage that tells me it but seems,
And flout his gravity in sunlight dreams!
7.9k
They will tell you there is a right way.
They will hand you a torch and call it the sun.
They will roll their words in raw linen and whisper:
"This is what poetry is meant to be."
And you will nod.
Because they have made it so that not nodding feels like blasphemy.
But listen—
the ink does not check your credentials.
The meter does not ask if your suffering is organic.
A line does not collapse because it was crafted instead of bled.
They will tell you a poem must be naked, barefoot, aching—
as if there is no beauty in a well-cut suit.
They will decry the temple and build a pulpit in its ruins,
preaching freedom in a voice that allows no dissent.
Good poets are cult leaders,
and the first rule of the cult
is that they are not one.
So write the sonnet, carve the sestina,
sculpt the page in iambic steel.
Or break it, shatter it, scatter its bones—
but let no one call your wreckage untrue.
And if they do,
smile.
Because poetry does not kneel to priests.
Feb 18, 2025
Feb 18, 2025 at 2:11 AM UTC
I am not overweight
Yet I don't love being a size eight
The media criticizing me
Hypnotizing me
Making me feel unimportant
I know you sympathize with me
But I am worth it
Part of Gods eternal purpose
My thick thighs
Are beauty in His eyes
And I don't have to worry about being unworthy
When I'm giving God the glory
he deserves
My self image is perseved
By Genesis 1:27
Or Ecclesiastes 3:11
He is constantly reminding me
That world is full of lies
Hiding behind the guise
That I need to change
Or rearrange myself
to be loved
This is untrue
The God of heaven and earth
Created and loves me
And everyone of you
Oct 8, 2016
Oct 8, 2016 at 6:08 PM UTC
The sky is painted a pale orange and blue
I'm just out there thinking of you
No way, no how to ever break through
But with a paddle in hand you know that's untrue
A wannigan, a duffle, a heavy deluth
An impenetrable vessel, a wood canvas canoe
Unexplored nature, a spirit renewed
All with friends, an unstoppable crew
No need to run, no need to prove
Rise with the sun, incredible views
There's always a portage, skeg on the boots
But who can stop walking our unfenced zoo
We do what we do, there to feel, be, and move
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 2:59 PM UTC
Driven and persistent
When a girl, I was undaunted
On acting I was insistent
By the stage I was haunted
A mere ingénue
At the odds I did laugh
Until the day that I withdrew
Now that ingenue lay neath an epitaph
To myself I was untrue
Now turn back to dreams
I must pursue
Lo, I am rebuilding
Her broken spirit within
Already she is healing
Anon let the journey begin again
Jan 22, 2017
Jan 22, 2017 at 7:06 PM UTC
one more for Joni and the one who accuses me of
"owning the courage to care so blatantly."
<:>
accused of writing with blatant courage,
a 4 credit requirement for caring
blatant is a word of merger -
open obvious unsubtle and unashamed
and a dissembling misleading one!
it is all of these and yet can be a contradictory mask of
opposing, differing faces
my blatant is none of these
but appearance only
**** muses keep me coming back
to a particular lyric,
keeps seeking me out, so successfully, wherever I go,
I hear it
it’s invading my both sides now
the dizzy dancing way you feel
you think I have my own blatant courage, untrue!
so oft you mistook my dizzy dancing,
all fluff all humbug so obvious so ashamed,
a cover up, a most subtle cosmetic pretense of the truth -
of
no courage at all
and yet (they mock)
you do care...
just another of my peculiar
life’s illusions
(self-delusions)
I really don’t have blatant courage at all
Jul 3, 2018
Jul 3, 2018 at 9:18 AM UTC
Piggies dancing, floating along narrow passages towards what they hope is their ends. Their means have been stolen and packaged and sold by big suited, corporate, handy-handy machines. They eat piggies every day and love it, love it, love it down their gullet.
They are not worth a mention yet they get it, they want nothing but your attention, they don’t need it yet they get it. Their appetites are insatiable and contagious, they use it against us by showing us how we are nothing but what they are and we are fools enough to take it as Truth.
Shame.
We have shame because they debase us and hence debase themselves.
We have shame because we see their debasement and yet powerlessness is in our bones.
We have shame because all we want is not all we get and nowhere near all we deserve,
-it measures much lower.
It is irrelevant, it is biased, it is useless, IT is un-real-(UnRealistic, UnRelated, UnTrue)
Lie.
If my breath stinks or my hair is greasy or my cloths ***** my teeth yellowed, my feet smelly, my nails long, my social life quiet and solicitous- will you discern a negativity in my human-ness? We are no villains. We hate only those who would have us believe that we must hate ourselves and each other. They are no beasts like us. The animal within, encased by a carapace of Humanity glued and mortared by self-centered ideologies gets too thick and you must break it by looking at yourself. ******** and ******* and spitting and grunting and moaning in ecstasy and pain.
Repeat after me and say it loud with beastly yell “ I am a ********* beautiful Animal!”
Jan 25, 2013
Jan 25, 2013 at 7:07 PM UTC
If your love is unending, why must you go?
If you care at all times, why with your friends does it not show?
When all comes to end, will you be there?
Or will you be far away, pretending that you care?
These are all thoughts, I have when I'm weak
When I feel so sorrowful, I can't even speak
Even so, at these times of pain
More so of me, is thinking about what you've been saying
How you'll always love me, and I believe it's true
For I too, would never leave you
For when you are here, my sadness goes away
When it's just me and you, you know just what to say
When I need you, in times that are rough
You are there to help, and that is enough
Sometimes it's hard to believe I have you
But talking with you, I know that's untrue
I have realized all the pain, sorrow, and guilt
Are worth every second that we have built
Of this love that we share, so full of purity
That is helps me get past these days of insecurity
Apr 18, 2012
Apr 18, 2012 at 10:24 PM UTC
---
Will somebody please
Slow down the train
It's going through hills
And rough terrain
I tried to be the engineer
But that didn't work
This much is clear
I can't run, I can't roam
I can't DO LIFE ON MY OWN.
I'm on a ride that I can't bear
Filled with loneliness... despair
Not knowing how, which way to turn
I will go the way I've learned.
I won't harbor hatred in my heart
I know my love and I must part
But I don't think of him as bad
We've broken up, and that is sad
But I want my family
here on this site
Know that lately
I haven't been right...
My mind is distraught
And overwrought
I can hardly follow
My train of thought
Please forgive me
I'm slipping my gears
I'm haunted by fears
Have counted years
I'm sure sorry this affects you
It seems like I'm untrue
I want all poets here on HP
To very kindly PRAY FOR ME.
SEND GOOD THOUGHTS
In your own way.
I will also be in prayer
For I have now met The Engineer
SoulSURVIVOR
5/4/2015
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 4:00 PM UTC
Have you ever been under the influence so long
That when you are forced to stop
To come up for air
Everything feels
Unfamiliar?
Sobriety chokes you
Traps you
Makes your heart race
Like a Chinese finger trap
You voluntarily entered into,
But now feel as though you might not escape.
The sober life is what you strive for
Long for
Dream of
Everyone around you encourages,
You can do it
One day at a time
They say
Attempting to motivate
Inspire
Help
But these are all lies
A mere hour of sobriety is too much to handle
It suffocates
Makes my hands shake
And my mind go crazy
DRINKDRINKDRINKDRINKDRINKINEEDAFUCKINGDRINKNOWGODPLEASE
This phrase repeats itself,
Over and over
No matter how many times you tell yourself
ICANDOTHIS
You know
It’s only another lie in the endless stream of pathetic, useless encouragement
You have created for yourself.
And after you say this,
ICANDOTHIS
You laugh
Knowing that it is absolutely
UNTRUE
And always will be
How can you embrace sobriety
When the bottle calls from its hiding place
The place you hid it
From your lover, family, friends
Pretending you function
Just like all of them
Waking up
Going about your life
Without panicking about when the next drink will be
When the drinks you need
Will **** you
If anyone will even notice
Or care.
Probably not,
Why should they,
Do you?
You never have.
Your life is an endless series of drinks and lies, and more drinks
And more lies.
You are nothing.
An empty cup
Waiting to be filled with the substance that will distract you from living
And then take your worthless life in the end.
Alcoholic
Forever
Unfixable.
Stop wasting our time.
Nov 1, 2012
Nov 1, 2012 at 12:23 PM UTC
I am not what I am,
Nor am I what people say I am.
I am a locked box,
Full of things I cannot share.
I am sly as a fox,
Often portraying that I do not care.
But this of course is untrue.
What do I desire?
You and your unyielding fire.
And yet I can never seem to tell you.
Who am I?
I am the unknown.
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 8:39 PM UTC
Golden hearts frolic on lilac hills
rolling with the landscape, as does sunset on Mt. sill
nothing invalid, nothing untrue
prospects of no such thing as anything few.
where blue thunder rolls in lilac hue.
this place, far beyond anything anyone knew
we seek silent frills on lilac hill
where heavens eye shine not few, but all others too.
made of love, no solitude.
Jan 27, 2011
Jan 27, 2011 at 6:49 PM UTC
The summer camp
Isn't what you love-
It's the trees
And the acceptance
That you don't find
Back home
Because back home
The air is filled
With too many chemicals
For anyone
To really accept anyone else
Because instead of
An occasional reminder
It's constant awareness
That we
Are the problem
So come here and pray
To your fictional gods
But know
That if there were a god
It wouldn't have created
Beings capable
Of only finding solace
In something so untrue
To the reality
Of themselves
Jul 24, 2013
Jul 24, 2013 at 6:18 PM UTC
Buildings for the most part are boxes square.
But Pentecost circles and spirals,
they turn and burn wild.
Of those who would tame
and make comprehensible any fire--
apt tongues have gone titch titch
and beautiful catch 'til words and music
and parlor diplomacies fortify
much which is untrue.
Fear has no finish, even in our dying.
The path is a cliff edge.
Let us turn, un-adult-like, and strip ourselves
of civilized persuasions. Usher
Earth's children into primordial worlds.
Water shall love and receive us, as it always has.
The naked ground will speak up,
into our touching feet.
Listen to the tongues of the wind.
Unhinge the body, which is you.
Let all creation fly.
May 20, 2013
May 20, 2013 at 5:11 AM UTC
scientists have said
humans are the only
organisms able to
express their thoughts,
but i often find that
to be untrue.
if people could
directly communicate
their emotions and feelings
i would know what is
happening
between me
and you.
Nov 19, 2013
Nov 19, 2013 at 8:56 PM UTC