Best Disillusioning Poems
sorceress
magical skills
mystifying, disillusioning, obfuscating
very crafty, distinctively dressed
witch
What to feel?
A confused state of doubt
and exhilaration
that captivates the very core of me,
accelerating me to a level of adrenaline -
filling me with the hope
of a new horizon that dawns
just for me...
A new, fresh day
breaking the darkness
caused by disheartenment
and the disillusioning of a soul.
My heart has been taken prisoner
by excitement
and meaningfulness -
a sense of being wanted,
cared for,
sharing...
I do not wish this taste of paradise to leave me...
Let it grow into an eternal lifelong experience
that will enrich and imbue
with treasure
my life,
our lives -
I ask... I beg... I thank you...
Copyright Deon J.H. Burger 2014
is just realty,
the only one we know,
at once, forever good and bad.
Yesterday, tomorrow don't exist
and expectation doesn't mean a thing.
You cannot find them anywhere,
and you are not alone. In fact
I am afraid you too, do not exist,
although I thought you did. Alas,
I cannot bring you back; it seems
you only knew for just that hoary
old split second, (gone among the ages)
how to occupy my consciousness.
It's pretty silly, isn't it,
this game we play with time,
though accurate enough. We never
seem to get it figured out,
and blindly stumble on our way,
manufacturing the seconds as we go--
looking at them (sometimes) through
our fingers as they fall; then vanishing
forever.
A man just has to fudge to celebrate a life--
or anything at all. Heroics fade,
and histrionics too, along with saints
and evil-doers smashing heads, and even
disillusioning the pretty girls
behind their neighbor's gate.
And then, as if there weren't
enough confusion, there they go,
those ghostly seconds chopping off
our time to meditate--but that
is merely our intent, and like experience
just another chimera; and that of course,
so lacking substance that it cannot
see light of day.
My God! Like me?
~
The imprudent wind has ceased his movement,
The unsympathetic rain has dried the thriving soil,
The moon, so bright, increased it’s earthbound light,
The world has been covered in the remaining shadows.
Call upon the angels, you believed in as a child,
You’You will feel nothing but a cruel emptiness,
A malicious joke the religious has forced upon you,
Nobody can help the world of today.
Love was once the tribute to a life lived,
Now it’s a headstone, a grave, an end.
Love is now heartless to the needs of you,
In your future, lay vacant lands and broken dreams.
You can lust for me, but I won’t lust for you,
Love has taken most of us prisoners,
Confined to that one whose memories are inescapable,
You’re lost, lonely, forgotten ambitions are shattered.
Climb to the top, where you might find refuge,
Peer over the edge to see how extreme your fall will be,
You feel the wind start up, the rain starts to descend,
The moon disappears and you are left in the darkness.
Try to find your feet in this mess of a place,
So close to the edge, you can feel the drop that awaits you,
Leering in the background is a shadow as you fall,
That shadow has a name, you just haven’t been introduced.
Love is a simple form of suicide, disguised as a pretty package,
Laying underneath the ribbons and bows is an unbound treachery,
You cannot be taught this, you unwillingly learn of it’s unkindness,
After it pushes you to your end …
Then you realize you’You have always been forlorn,
Walking in a world of blind fools who continue to believe,
That love is a gift, love is a remuneration of dedication,
Love is nothing. Love is an evil progeny. Love is torture.
Love is a disillusioning lie.
The world that I have known
Till now
Was something of dreams
It reminds me of sunshine
And pretty things
The thought brings giggles
And chuckles and laughs
And happy, contented sighs
And an assurance
That
It would never change
It would always be a cozy blanket
Tucked in at night
Or a shaded spot under the sun
During the day
It would always be
There for me
That world was made of you.
The world that I am aware of now
Is quite different from
What I thought it was
It shatters the sunshine
And pretty, little dreams
And brings to mind a grotesque picture
Of the coldness of pride
And faces that are turned
Away from my own
Or looking at me
Through cold, empty eyes
And hands that had once
Promised to hold me close
Are clenched into fists
Or waving me away
Or slapping me in the face
Or stabbing me in the back
And rapidly disillusioning me
From what I thought was
But obviously isn’t
No need to continue
I am aware of what you are now
And who you have been all along.
the word WORD
It's totally mysterious!
sour and sugary,
freedom and cage
true and false,
youthful and aged,
fortune and poverty,
alert and careless,
fortress and barricade,
joyful and pretentious,
winner and loser,
healing and disillusioning,
dreamy and troubled,
basis and acidic,
restrained and disproportionate,
faithful and shameless,
witty and serious,
calm and wavy,
blissful and sad...
An opened book and a deep mystery,
free and dangerous flight,
A permanent dilemma
a constant riddle,
a passionate delusion!
The darkest hour comes with pain that's insane,
Excruciating, unrelenting pain.
The sobbing and gasping are so abrupt.
The heart is broken; the body gives up.
The darkest hour tries to take control,
Searching through the suffering for the soul.
Disillusioning evil tells a lie.
“Death will set you free, so let yourself die.”
Numbness begins to smother the feeling.
The chaos of your mind sends you reeling.
In time you know there must be a reason
To continue at least for a season.
Looking deep within, you search for the light,
A seed of love to help you through the night.