Best Misinformed Poems
Is there an eternal metaphor for love?
Is forever a sinful oath abandoned in
an archive of poems with alienated alliteration.
Hidden behind simile and ironic verses?
Why does human interference place
an unwanted label on romance and dignity,
like a social butterfly and the tramp.
These oxymorons become lost in translation,
to simple minds with misinformed ideologies.
Emotions are felt through a balance that
define the impact of words and actions.
Principles of legitimacy have no eyes.
Lust is an internal bonfire,
a fragile candle dripping in wax,
burning the beginning of an end,
a cursed chalice emanating feelings long dead.
Carnal desire is a luscious psycho,
trying to balance splitting paranoia.
Trust is a double edged dagger,
when an asylum of triggers are resurfaced
through crimson, clementine and chalk flashbacks.
We all suffer from immemorial ghosts.
Life gives no refund for regret,
It knows our destiny is death.
Loss leads to a motionless existence,
where bloodstained ivory feathers of the fallen
float in the air from wounded warriors,
whose hearts have crumbled from betrayal.
We never forget the sound of heartbreak.
There is only one immortal emotion.
Love is a silent saviour,
reality in a world of virtual insanity.
Where petals and pearls paint hues of pastel peaches,
creating a psychedelic poetic heaven.
An enchanted melody with waves of serenity,
reflecting ivory shades from
the last phase of the blood moon.
Because some things last beyond time.
Categories:
misinformed, angst, emotions, love,
Form:
Free verse
Misinformed as ever was,
as sad as sad can be,
for no one cared or dared to love
a creature such as she.
Time rolls past and in its’ dust
she wonders where it’s gone,
left standing still with faded eyes,
a vessel dreaming on.
As crazy-paved as garden paths,
and blinder than a tree,
holding court with ghosts of kids
who never lived to be.
Imagined loves she never met,
no truth to rest upon,
just make-believe and pharmacy
a vessel dreaming on.
Categories:
misinformed, people, sad, sad,
Form:
Verse
½ cup sass
1 tbsp eye roll
2 cups suprirotive
1 cup white privilege
½ tsp rudeness
1 brand new car, softened
5 oz brand name clothing
A dash of allof, to taste
Add all ingredients together, while whisking in misinformed news media. Mix thoroughly for pretentious.
Categories:
misinformed, 12th grade, culture, people,
Form:
The beauty of the dream
Even fools are allowed in
Misinformed and crawling on narrow stony roads
Yet in this land anything goes
We all have the right to our opinions and views
Apparently even old fools
One day soon
Guns will be taken
So that freedoms truly rule
As the clowns dance
One day
Poets shall rule
Remember this! Obama was no fool!
Categories:
misinformed, america, art, humor, international,
Form:
Free verse
It’s early
Not a sound from the street
Newspaper lies in the driveway
Where it landed
Some time ago.
When I get up
The sun is also up
Brightness
Clarity
Not a cloud in the sky
So why should I read the newspaper
On this beautiful morning
To read about politicians
Taking bribes
Projects stalled by demonstrators
Economy still in the toilet
An actor arrested for God knows what.
They say
Not reading leaves one uninformed
But reading leaves me misinformed
Avoiding the need to choose
Between the devil and the deep blue sea
I choose to read the comics
Yes, those cartoon characters
Amusing
Unbelievably funny
Occasionally making a point
On things we ignore.
I take the comics seriously
As I sip from a coffee cup
Carefully placed nearby
Casually savoring each drop
As I contemplate the day
And the morning leisurely wears on.
Categories:
misinformed, life,
Form:
Narrative
Mirage of Love
by Odin Roark
So many have perished
Struggling against infatuated tail winds,
The warning sands of drifted reality,
Making waste the perilous effort.
An innocent’s once unclouded vision
Becomes overcast, making the heart seek further,
Not knowing the quenching of thirst unreachable
Amidst the storm of a choking delusion.
Yet…
How persistent desire’s seduction,
This passion of will longing to drink of love’s elixir,
Unaware love requires not object
But pure awareness,
The beneficence of being in a state of love.
Some find…
Above the hot breath of passion
Resides the calm of rendezvous,
Where connection to the rapture,
Waits patiently for the traveler.
Still…
How tremulous the venture,
This seeking of libidinous reward,
This misadventure across the deserts of beauty,
Whose demands make waste the misinformed.
Such a map to consider.
Such a compass to contemplate
Such a reward only patience can deliver.
And still…
Thirst is a given.
Categories:
misinformed, love,
Form:
Prose Poetry
As you look at me I'm not him.
Wearing a face of a man that does not exist, a myth.
For i am reserved, deep within the confines of self.
Ensorcelled, impelled, upon a journey of discovery.
Under the melanin pigmentation of epidermal.
Through the subcutaneous tissue, to travel around blood vessels, capillaries, and arteries, the rivers of life.
Observed and closely investigated all the fibers of the muscles, the joints, and the tendons which bind them.
From the plantar, up the nervous system, to the cranium.
Within the essence of me, the was, the is, and the maybe, the realms of my brain.
Continuing through the optic nerve, peering through the retina.
If seeing is believing, then there's more says my fervor.
So I close the lids and travel further.
Encaged within the thoracic, observing the pulmonary action of breath taking.
At that moment, I hear the rhythm, the drumming of existence.
Astonished with disbelief, awaiting to awaken from this dream.
All the days and years of believing me void.
There it is, pulsating with strength, feeding all the limbs and giving me life.
Contradicting the accusations and claims
of the misinformed strife.
Reinforced by the deeds and sacrifices, the joy and the pains endured.
Shattered like glass, the image i am not.
Against all odds, I found that I do have a heart.
Categories:
misinformed, me, pride, strength,
Form:
Free verse
What does a young naïve Christian think
When a hooded desperado storms a prayer room,
His scary presence quiets the praying tongues ,
And his outlawed round replaces hope with doom?
He doesn’t think, instead he silently prays :
Father, forgive their misinformed cruel idiocy,
Teach these men that suicide is not an escape
From the punishment for their bloody idiosyncrasy.
What does an aging single mother think
When the hope of a graduate daughter or son
Turns out to be that unthinkable news of death,
The bullet-riddled corpse, the end of the rising sun?
She does not think, instead she miserably cries:
Father, blight their brows with sulfurs hot,
Numb their souls with the gall of unending pain,
And their hope for bliss in death reduce to naught.
What does the orphaned little boy or girl think
When the bright elder sibling they adore
Calls to say that she’s been forced to call
And say goodbye before the triggers go?
The orphaned boy or girl does not think, instead they howl:
Father, tell the murderous killers to spare my sister
For there is no-one else to wash my clothes
And none to help with the assignments and dinner.
And what does the heavenly merciful Creator think
When the roars of guns and the sobs of death
Force him to turn and cast his all-seeing eyes below
To behold such thick-skinned extermination of breath?
He does not think, instead he wonders:
What breed of men is this I accidentally made,
To wound and mutilate my innocent lambs,
Rejoicing as their lives sorrowfully fade?
(The massacre of well over 150 Garissa University College students by the Al-Shabaab militants on 2nd April 2015)
Categories:
misinformed, holocaust,
Form:
Verse
Today, my homepage was deceitfully defiled
I had a visitation without any brotherly love
Her actions were similar to those of a child
Calling ME a troll, with a push and a shove
Without provocation or any hint of warning
She soiled upon my precious front stoop
Her vitriol was left for me here this morning
A pile of stinky doody is in my Poetry Soup
Her accusations were wrong, hurtfully made
Misinformed is what she said that I was
She's another minion who was easily swayed
I guess Forest was right, stupid is as stupid does
Categories:
misinformed, anti bullying,
Form:
Rhyme
"Small Wars in Paradise"
A small war in paradise
where the walls
are dripping
hearts pinned
with golden words
A ghost behind
the eyes of a Fate
shines a light
on the self-righteous
misinformed deux Moirai,
advocatus diaboli -
what remains,
The Devil’s Advocates
blinded in the eye
the dull intentioned
Assizes
Intervention
comes at a small cost
for the Soul
they think is lost
Tomorrow always delivers,
The Goods.
Small wars in Paradise
where sharp swords cut
blunt forked tongues
beating tattoos in time
to a betrayal of trust
a banshee assassin
it’s a relative choice
Won
Lost
A ghost behind the eyes
haunts the hallowed halls
of manipulative minds
holding black diamonds and spades
digging what was, is now dust
in both hands
bloodied,
murdering the past
one day at a time
slowly smiling
holding the crass dead
in a deep holed heart
now becomes the
smoking refined blunderbust
executing sentences
orchestral manouvres
in a dark knight mind
a banshee assassin
it’s a relative choice
The Woman Won
The Past Lost
all in good time...
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
"Tomorrow" / Ozzy Osbourne, Ozzmosis
https://youtu.be/isnqz-aJe4c
https://www.biddytarot.com/tarot-card-meanings/minor-arcana/suit-of-swords/knight-of-swords/
https://www.biddytarot.com/tarot-card-meanings/major-arcana/magician/
https://www.biddytarot.com/tarot-card-meanings/major-arcana/strength/
"A Tryal of Witches"/ Sydney University -
https://library.sydney.edu.au/collections/rare-books/online-exhibitions/modernity/tryal.html
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bury_St_Edmunds_witch_trials
Bury St Edmunds Witch Trials:
https://www.visit-burystedmunds.co.uk/blog/2018/bury-st-edmunds-witch-trials
https://famous-trials.com/salem/2059-pleadinnocent
https://famous-trials.com/salem/2031-accused
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kangaroo_court
LYRICS/ "Tomorrow", Osbourne.
https://genius.com/Ozzy-osbourne-tomorrow-lyrics
"....if I wanted your opinion..."
Categories:
misinformed, future, muse, symbolism,
Form:
Free verse
When Fathers bury their sons
Illegal to drink but able to carry the guns
Prays pursuing targets with fears of being late
American families risk faith, for oil and foolish leadership sake
Welcome to War
When tears and bullets collide
Before the souls of weary hearts had a chance to confide
When training and skill go to waste
And the luck of a four - leaf clovers are embraced
Welcome to War
When soldiers replace the sins of forged leaders
And are overlooked by the everyday readers
Buried in grains of sand
Drowned within ink of the misinformed writers hand
Welcome to War
Everyday forced to raise their flags in the sky
Inevitable thoughts of being their blankets if they die
When loneliness’ feels the appetite
stars ease the soul at night
Welcome to War
Tears of joy to tell the family they’re finally done with the senseless roam
Champaign and war songs of men & women on the plane home
Arriving to a ruthless economy with no jobs receiving debt
Look to the stars for ease as the veterans wept
Welcome to War……………Again
Categories:
misinformed, life
Form:
Couplet
Firefighters have a few problems
I hope you'll help us out
I'll try to state them clearly
Though some things stress me out
Some things drive us crazy
They happen every day
Some I hope to mention
Others I'll let stay
Think when you are driving
When you see us, stop, I pray
A fire truck is hard to control
Five-hundred-gallons has its way
And recall when you are walking
And toward you we do race
Remember we're in a hurry
So please pick-up your pace
Okay we're not 411
But if your lost we'll help you out
So you know the map is ours
Please don't scream and shout
Also consider, when your in a wreck
We don't care who caused the deal
We're just there to help those hurt
And take them where they'll heal
Now when it comes to fires
Don't try to help us out
By breaking all the windows
You just let the devil out
One thing most important
When we arrive on a fire scene
If you have no useful info
Be not heard but only seen
To many people yelling
Trying to join the show
Puts many lives in danger
I thought that you should know
We will risk life and limb
To get you out the door
But if we're misinformed
We could search the wrong floor
A new battery in your smoke detector
Another small pet peeve
Twice a year when you change those clocks
Is better than too grieve
I'm sure there's more that I can vent
But I said I'd let some stay
All I ask is a little help
With which you'll make our day
Steven Clark
27Jan'14
Categories:
misinformed, care, community, funny, life,
Form:
Rhyme
Oh, it is a bizarre little neighborhood -
my head – peopled by thoughts
that congregate in cryptic ghettos,
Wary of the other thoughts
that reside in other ghettos
they walk the synapses of cynicism
Secure in the knowledge
that all the other thoughts
are just a little bit off,
slightly to seriously misinformed,
deluded by the mainstream cerebellum
into supporting the physical mess.
Two blocks down and one block over
reside the synapses of happiness,
peopled by thoughts of happiness,
they have totally lost touch with reality
although it is fun to hang out with them
just to confuse those who reside
in the synapses of unhappiness.
They wonder “how can the cynic be happy?”
Just West of the block of wonderment
reside the thoughts of “God” or “Goddess”
like some “God” is going to be trapped
within a specified sexual context.
On the other side of the “tracks”
reside the thoughts of anger and loneliness,
they are angry and lonely because
they refuse to cross the tracks
and consider another alternative.
Every intersection of the synapse highway
has a set of high speed traffic lights
to control the flow of the thoughts
and keep my head from exploding.
I have wandered these synaptic ghettos since birth
and feel quite confident engaging them all
I would invite you in but they are poor hosts.
12/12/2016
submitted to – In Your Head – Poetry Contest
Categories:
misinformed, humor,
Form:
Free verse
Night of the full moon
Whale fish are most adept at swimming around in a shot glass but glass goblets are preferred by dolphins whose long dorsal fin opts for wide open rimmed spaces. Stingrays desire to be seen in the most finest crystal glasses but the flat fish is only ever seen in a tumbler. Often tumbling. And giggling with pure delight. But what of ambition from all these creatures. Would they not want to swap? Are they ever content with their locations? Omnipresent octopi often offer octagonal orifices. The vertical verb of a naughty little variegated platy can vary a variant victoriously. How rather marvellous that is isn't it?
Instinct ink can inform. But ink that is mislaid, misinformed and generally mundane is confused and confusion can offer creations canopies of catastrophic chasms. Mingle in a mangle then. Up and down the threads. Obviously a straight ironed trousers. Hemmed. Could see straight through 27 pairs of skirts in rows and point out the pin marks.
Awkward antelope answering apostle ants?How quite amazing! Well it is isn't it? And the gathering of the buds upon the washing line can hang out in all weathers. Thus ensuring an even radius of elements to dry, wet then dry again. Broad shoulders of a bean. Big bloated buffalo's beating banging bongo's. Baboon laughs and laughs and laughs and lingers on leaves no more for the beat is too amazing to place himself in such a confined positional place but heated propositions from a piglet often sway the breezes. And the backwards running tap always laughs at the dandelion in flight. Because it is very very very funny indeed!
WOW
Running ruining radii ravish radishes ridiculing realities. Such reduction in a nylon beaded glove. And gloves of a geranium are often glowing and glowering at the same time. Such a simultaneous display of floral fragrant feats.
WOW
Fiddle fathoms fish fetching forks finely.
Z at the X lauwiliwilinukunuku?oi?oi Z to X
At 46 mealworms chatting over a nice cup of tea at a garden fete to 19 cackling teapots dressed in wintry jumpers smoking.
X
Categories:
misinformed, allusion,
Form:
The preacher lay calm, his lips moving, but no sound
His arms and legs sprawled and tightly bound
The creatures now stood around him dripping with blood
While one chewed on a finger as a cow chews the cud
“PREACHER, we saved you for last, it is now your turn,”
“We fed you, nurtured you, and felt our skin burn.”
“For the skin on your body we will slowly and agonisingly peel,”
And as they tried, the wounds immediately healed.
They bit him and tore chunks out of his chest
Expecting to see a pumping heart, the preacher lay whole, in a torn vest.
They noticed his limbs had grown hands and feet,
The creatures stepped back as if in retreat.
The preacher sat up with ease, snapping the binding chains,
His blood shone a bright red through his veins.
He said to them, “Your purpose in this community is by all means done,”
“But if you think I am here for the ultimate prize then you are misinformed by
someone.”
The creatures raged toward him but he raised his hand and said “Stop,”
The power in his voice made them screech and drop.
“You were sent here to quench the sin in this town,”
“Now you take on a man of God just when you think his guard is down?”
“My destiny is to bring judgement to you,”
To rid the world of the devil and his sporn too.”
They lay in the blood that began to make their flesh blister and burn,”
The preacher said, You were right, now it is my turn.”
** sorry the ending is not as good as I wanted it to be**
Categories:
misinformed, death, imagination
Form:
Rhyme