Best Dissimulation Poems
4 matches left
for John Steinbeck @ Annabel Lee@of course E.A.POE
Chickens; a roaring rooster
An old house filled with flys
and many bugs
Many Mexican neighbor
Friend
no water no elec
No Amends
Romans 11: 29
" For the gifts and calling of GOD are without repentance"
Cold beer sometimes-mostly hot
and a cheap cigar
Romans 12:9
dissimulation means Hypocrisy-Scornful-psalm1vs1
Noise heat sweat no work no shower no money no respect
NO REGRET
nO FAMILY NO CHURCH
A FEW RARE FRIENDS
I WILL NOT USE
Enlightenment
I AM embedded in a bunker on the front...
Know I Love You and all the little Children too...
I do not like Zealots who work for money!
I like people that work for GOD
Translation
So something has happened and you are not quite sure
What it is your woman is thinking
Don’t be confused or fret overlong
You only need a translation.
Just look at the words without the distraction
The emotion of the moment
The words stripped bare of the soothing tones
The dress up of dissimulation
This isn’t working ... (you guessed it) You’re Dumped
I wasn’t ready for this ... I was only playing
I’ve got too much on ... You’re not worth the time
I’m so busy ... Won’t/can’t share my life with you
It’s not you it’s me ... You’re not ‘enough’ for me
I’m sorting my priorities ... And you are not there (does she have a pet?)
I need time for family ... There is none left over for you
I want you to be a friend ... We’ll never be really close
I’ll understand if ‘friendship’ is too hard ... I don’t really care, just being polite
It’s not fair to you ... Wish you’d choose to go away
I’m confused ... There is someone else
No matter how it is dressed or dissembled
The results are clear to see.
See them sooner boys and perhaps retain
A semblance of dignity,
Remember men, (a word of caution)
there is no real difference between
romantic persistence and stalking .
For the women who read this,
Embarrassed, outraged!
Your mood is prompted by memories.
A reason please, men can take honesty,
But can you admit your mistakes?
© T. Arnold
The shadows from his younger days shake his resolve,
and make a mockery of time 'til time be lost
to moments of bewilderment, ne'er to evolve,
they bounce and bluster errantly, much to his cost.
Shades and silences, outbursts of ungoverned rage,
cruelty breeds rancor, e'en in the meek at heart,
kept and restricted, like a creature in a cage,
no literature for him, gentility or art.
Dissimulation, trickery and guile he plies
as tools to engineer self-preservation,
he tells quaint versions of the truth, and bald-faced lies,
so to avoid the whip and recrimination.
Childhood is the birthplace of hope and mirth
not fear and perturbation for the budding soul,
a testament to love where supplicants may dwell;
not tyranny or willfulness, a wayward goal.
Shun darkness, disillusionment from God's green earth,
cast demons, evil thinkers to the depths of hell!
Last Modified: January 09, 2016 at 07:20 pm
© bickerstaffe - all rights reserved
Author Notes
...the first three verses: abab rhyming
the next two together: abcbac rhyming
a form used frequently by W.H. Auden
...a tribute to Hermann Hesse and his novel 'Narziss Und Goldmund.'
Two friends in early childhood when their lives were worry free,
each pursued his own direction to fulfill his destiny.
One was tempted by the devil to devote his life to greed,
debauchery, dissimulation, he embraced each sinful deed.
He ingratiated himself with the wealthy, bedding courtesans and Queens,
all the while maintaining strict discretion, gaining riches by deception and guile.
From palace to palace he traveled, always escaping detection,
'til he tired of all of the cheating and lies, and spent time in devoted reflection.
Much older now, his skills were not the sharpest,
no longer did he yearn for wealth and fame,
he became disconsolate, and longed for peace and solace,
a return to the village where they called him by his real name.
Meanwhile the other spent his time in isolation,
became a monk and took a vow of silence,
as part of a brotherhood he was content,
rarely, if ever, was he called upon for penance.
He left his cell each afternoon to tend the Bishop's garden,
tilling and weeding the flowers and plants,
in the evening he could be heard singing,
embroidering the hymns with soaring descants.
Asceticism is a doctrine that requires self-denial,
taken in excess it lays a burden on the soul,
a burden which in retrospect is seen as self-defeating,
what steps can be taken to ensure the soul is whole?
The two men reunited in the village where they spent
such happy times in playful animation,
examining their practices they sought an end to their excesses,
too much praying and playing required a strict examination.
In the midst of life's continuum to maintain a happy medium,
play and prayer and work and everything in equal measure,
the Greeks had a phrase for it ~ 'Nothing In Excess,'
a phrase we would all do well to contemplate, and treasure.
standing in the line i feel the pressure, scolding, start to build,
i feel their each and every iris as they climb the height of my structure,
this fortress i was forced, by fear in youth, to unearth and bare in hand,
with time has weathered thin and i with it feel increasingly translucent.
mutter and glance, hands attempt to contain their maintenance.
to look and to listen, not a single tone to note or color to perceive.
their contaminants infiltrate my ventilation, the stench is sickening,
pulse erratic and mind askew, i flee, steps fueled by incubated haste,
cause comes to such effect even the beaten path is bruised by its confusion.
the archway constitutes a sigh and with that a slow of pace,
fumbling finger over fidget, pocket full with whispers coaching panic on its way.
the breathe of smoking paranoia shrugs a calming gesture.
a wink of timid silliness and nurtured nature bring to mind,
how, even aware of relevance, dissimulation fogs the clouds.
Inside each of us there are shades of ChAoS…at the very least intermittent negativity
Hypocritical thinking defines so many people
As they bask in their appearance of virtue.
Let us listen to the preacher because only a few can see the utter dissimulation within.
It is a compelling story that society has written…
To distort and extort our souls…
Angst…
We are innately the same, we haven’t gone anywhere new…
We’re just looking at things from a new perspective… Can we do this together…
Remember…inside is chaos, negativity and angst but there is also…
This…
Did you know…
Fear is a state of mind…
Life can feel encapsulated… trapped with anger and misery
How do we battle the angst…
I don’t know…
But there is always…
This…
Let’s start…
We should not recognize a life has ended….
Only recognize a life has lived…
Celebrate…
It is our right
There is power in ritual
Ritual to grieve
Wicked atrocity or not
There is…
This…
This can be a magnificent day if you choose…
This minute shall not be wasted
Simple, it is a beautiful life we can live…
Simpler, when one thing ends… another begins…
Ultimate simplicity…
This is this…
The city of knowledge is burning
Crushed are all the houses of learning
Under the siege of the city of information and the city of ignorance
For the two have joined together to destroy gnosis
The gatekeeper has been stabbed in his head
The enemies and the traitors bloodied the rivers red
Decapitating the institutions
Presenting misleading solutions
Leading the inhabitants to a seeming ablution
Only chastising them with their own desire
But the sands beneath the city are ever shifting
The knowledge the city bequeaths is spirit-lifting
And while blood has run down the beard of the gatekeeper
There are millions ready to avenge as the battle gets steeper
My weapon is a sheathed award
Precautionary dissimulation is my sword
I am protecting of the secret knowledge of my Lord
No burning fire has the strength to cut our cord
And as they break the hands of the crowd
And cut the tongues of the proud
Our heart remains the clairvoyant organ of might
This organ is a sealed book, hidden in the darkness of night
And divine light
Will extinguish the burning fires and quench our desires
As the new gatekeeper is put in place
Fully dismantling the hemorrhaging cities of ignorance and information
Inaugurating all in the gnostic station
...a tribute to Hermann Hesse and his novel 'Narziss Und Goldmund.'
***********
Two friends in early childhood when their lives were worry free,
each pursued his own direction to fulfill his destiny.
One was tempted by the devil to devote his life to greed,
debauchery, dissimulation, he embraced each sinful deed.
He ingratiated himself with the wealthy, bedding courtesans and Queens,
all the while maintaining strict discretion, gaining riches by deception and guile.
From palace to palace he traveled, always escaping detection,
'til he tired of all of the cheating and lies, and spent time in devoted reflection.
Much older now, his skills were not the sharpest,
no longer did he yearn for wealth and fame,
he became disconsolate, and longed for peace and solace,
a return to the village where they called him by his real name.
Meanwhile the other spent his time in isolation,
became a monk and took a vow of silence,
as part of a brotherhood he was content,
rarely, if ever, was he called upon for penance.
He left his cell each afternoon to tend the Bishop's garden,
tilling and weeding the flowers and plants,
in the evening he could be heard singing,
embroidering the hymns with soaring descants.
Asceticism is a doctrine that requires self-denial,
taken in excess it lays a burden on the soul,
a burden which in retrospect is seen as self-defeating,
what steps can be taken to ensure the soul is whole?
The two men reunited in the village where they spent
such happy times in playful animation,
examining their practices they sought an end to their excesses,
too much praying and playing required a strict examination.
In the midst of life's continuum to maintain a happy medium,
play and prayer and work and everything in equal measure,
the Greeks had a phrase for it ~ 'Nothing In Excess,'
a lifestyle we would all do well to emulate and treasure.
Copyright © 2016 Keith Bickerstaffe
Father dearest, I love you so,
As only my soul can really extol
The extent of my appreciation!
Hear my precious heart throbbing,
Eternally grateful for all you did,
Rising to every challenge on the way!
Hope, faith and freedom you showed me,
Ambition and selfless commitment, too!
Peace and tolerance you dearly espoused,
Probity and fair play were your watchwords!
Yes, you were always a man of your word!
From day one you encouraged and helped me.
Every time I faltered, you were there.
Self-confidence, dreams you instilled in me,
Transforming my deep doubts and fears
Into courage, yearnings and aspirations,
Vowing to make me the best that I could be!
Angst gave way to optimism and enlightenment.
Love, you said, was God’s gift to mankind!
Infinite were your patience and attention,
Sources of quiet confidence and inspiration.
And you always demonstrated integrity,
Leaving behind deceit and dissimulation,
Ugliness of thought, word and action.
Truth triumphed in everything you undertook,
Ever loyal, steadfast, indomitable, supreme!
You are my lofty paragon of true manhood.
Our Father in heaven, I know, smiles upon you!
Unique you are, Dad, I salute you with love!
My paramour, try to understand me now.
You knew the shape of my heart in the course of our budding affair.
At the start, my face was not disfigured with dissimulation, and my mien has always been upright.
For, I am perplexed in the nature of monogamy.
You can not imprison my cripple heart.
There are no gentle terms of endearment that can cure me.
You stand before me with peeling eyes trying to reach the core of me.
Trying to understand me with all your weakness of a man from Mars.
My paramour, try to understand me now.
Although, I was jocund in all our congenial coitus and oftentimes you sent me flying.
My heart remains impervious.
My paramour, try to understand me now.
You are a virtuous man, soulful, cultured, and refine.
You are ambrosial for any woman.
Melt away my paramour from devotion, and make no more grievance pleas of the subject of our ephemeral romance for you see you are the conqueror of this affair.
Be in time with the fact that this is but a small breach, to your heart and ego.
(sigh)
As for me, I will fall back into a spiral of ephemeral love affairs.
copyright 2016 Looking At The Light From The Bottom of The Lake.
The shadows from his younger days shake his resolve,
and make a mockery of time 'til time be lost
to moments of bewilderment, ne'er to evolve,
they bounce and bluster errantly, much to his cost.
Shades and silences, outbursts of ungoverned rage,
cruelty breeds rancor, even in the meek at heart,
kept and restricted, like a creature in a cage,
no literature for him, gentility or art.
Dissimulation, trickery and guile he plies
as tools to engineer self-preservation,
he tells quaint versions of the truth, and bald-faced lies,
so to avoid the whip and recrimination.
Childhood is the birthplace of hope and mirth
not fear and perturbation for the budding soul,
a testament to love where supplicants may dwell;
not tyranny or willfulness, a wayward goal.
Shun darkness, disillusion, from God's green earth,
cast demons, evil thinkers to the depths of hell.
...inspired by 'The Traveller' by W.H. Auden
The shadows from his younger days shake his resolve,
and make a mockery of time 'til time be lost
to moments of bewilderment, ne'er to evolve,
they bounce and bluster errantly, much to his cost.
Shades and silences, outbursts of ungoverned rage,
cruelty breeds rancor, e'en in the meek at heart,
kept and restricted, like a creature in a cage,
no literature for him, gentility or art.
Dissimulation, trickery and guile he plies
as tools to engineer his self-preservation,
he tells quaint versions of the truth, and bald-faced lies,
so's to avoid the whip and recrimination.
Childhood should be the nursery of hope and mirth,
not fear and perturbation, for the budding soul,
a testament to love, where supplicants may dwell;
not tyranny or willfulness, a wayward goal,
shun darkness, disillusionment from God's green earth,
cast demons, evildoers to the depths of hell!
Masked impressions become conflicts of interest, when synonyms
Are exteriorly presented as such, but intrinsically are pure antonyms!
While the skies’ feelings are transparent with their idiosyncratic looks,
Are there personality barometers, to decipher our intents like open books?
Hence dissimulation has become seamless as if an ingrained aspect,
Where conspicuous expectations are rather what we shouldn’t expect!
And so predatory politicians pledge heaven, but deliver pleasantries of hell,
While some radical clergies’ instigative teachings echo like a woeful knell...
Disguised saints roam streets, as if on a pilgrimage to some holy land!
Whereas their tainted feet trample virtues on the other hand!
What has thus become the sincerity of countenances on faces?
Glances portraying relics of hidden motives beneath the surfaces?
How deep must we then prod the counterfeit of outward expressions?
Just so we can even glimpse, beyond the guile of masked impressions.
©Maverick Nyambu
ripe wild crab apples
hang over the wooden fence -
bitter deception
----------------------------------
23rd May 2019
Writing Challenge 3, May 2019
Nature Haiku, by Dear Heart
Placed 1st
We lived in a marvellous world
Of make-believe. What a charade!
Differences seemed to disappear
With dissimulation and deceit,
Prevarication, alienation from
Cherished ones, parents, family,
Friends! As she took the initiative,
The contorted configurations of
Her tortuous desires besieged my heart
And asphyxiated our relationship.
Love grew obsessive, dependent,
Hopelessly obtrusive, devastating
Like a raging, decimating, tropical
Storm, leaving, in its wake, insidious
Hurt, pain, torture, torment, gnawing angst!
When, for another, she turned her back,
Leaving me with battered mind, and splintered
Will, my world shattered, like a mirror, into
A thousand kaleidoscopic pieces, each a
Merciless reflection of my profound agony!