Best Obfuscated Poems
There are tears mixed
into the pancake batter
sun is still obfuscated
by the window shades
without sunshine, I still
wind up a morning person
Tobacco clings to me,
where your scent would be
sewn with many memories
into the mesh of myself
a premature family crest,
stained and worn
The new day shows
only one outcome remains
the eggs are runny,
my nose sniffles into an arid oasis
no sunny side seems
to show up these days
I wake up to an empty pillow,
your space hollow through
but I still cannot but help myself
from making breakfast for two.
Categories:
obfuscated, break up, heartbreak, heartbroken,
Form:
Free verse
I sat at a table
It was a table for one;
There was a mirror
And a pay phone
Seated at the head,
They had all brazenly said:
"This, is ahead of its time"
- Then someone with an agenda
Started forming the lines,
Behind ulterior motives
To be the first to capitalize.
And pretty soon,
With the grand accessories
Of these mock identities,
We were all just living cartoons;
While our petty self-image
Obfuscated the truth
- There was only one presence,
Beneath the mask of our skin,
An emptiness of being,
Void of existential meaning.
Within the inner circle of youth culture,
Someone passed through
Something was familiar; nothing seemed new...
...Not to sound jaded by age
- But I've seen more recent advancement
In the Police State
Than I have in the common man as of late
- I guess some things really do never change?
Categories:
obfuscated, angst, hyperbole, philosophy, political,
Form:
Free verse
Their is a God.In flesh we will not see his face.However we will see pieces of him in mother natures face. Natures aqua I indulge in, purity of his being and grace .I take a gander at shallow but deep water, and I nearly catch a glimpse of his face. A image we can not trace, looking into water searching for oddities timidly twinkling behind image of self, in mirror of water. Obfuscated by rays of sun complicating images reflected into water and image of water reflected in soul.None can be clearly perceived,that is mystery,that is the hidden God in all, you and me flower and tree, all covered by hazy mist to guard and separate ,what is and what is not to be know.For reasoning beyond comprehensions and perception.The hands of leaves graciously applaud and sings for a kingdom unknown or shown.A land that is inconceivable beyond feeble flesh and bone perhaps a place where every humans faith may or may not be etched in stone,but for certain we don't walk alone. The hands of leaves sings his song with grandiosity. Singing in code alongside hymns of enchanting species on earth. Songs we are told, but never told to be understood for our own good.If other wise we would all be doomed,for instance God blessed us with geniuses and we make weapons of mass destruction. Why should he unveil more mysteries and knowledge? To cause more malice and destruction? Animals and nature, chant songs of spiritual secrets, worldly an beyond secrets.This knowledge the forbidden fruit, only to suit the beings of another realm but still connecting us to it in ways the flesh can bear.If trees,birds and all of nature could talk human languages, mysteries would be no more. What happens when a bright light flashes in front your eyes? Don't you briefly lose sight? what happens when a loud horn blows in your ear doesn't it ring? The same concepts and effects applys with the high volumes and inconceivable power of our God and mysteries that follow. Imagine the the sounds, the sight and the feeling of the life beyond do you think the flesh can bear or withstand such insurmountable grandeur.The wind so much like God its never seen.The wind so much like God its effects are seen, but still remains invisible.The wind carry's breath death things of all volumes and that which feeble flesh cant perceive,I BELIEVE THE WIND IS GOD..... WHAT DO YOU THINK EINSTEIN.....
BY: Elliott Bowe
Categories:
obfuscated, art, imagination, life, mystery,
Form:
Free verse
I hear the lovely dirge called Autumn Leaves.
It echoes back and forth in my obfuscated mind,
Part full of grief, part an ineffectual endeavour
To understand why, why bliss must follow heartache.
The trees around are so colourful, but I know,
Their leaves will fall to be trampled underfoot.
As much as you trampled underfoot our summer love.
Thus our winter of discontent is full of sad melodies.
But Spring is around the corner and flowers
Will cover everywhere like a colourful carpet.
Birds will sing full throttle their love songs
And a new love will be found in some perfumed lane.
Then my song will change, and I’ll embrace it with glee.
Maybe I’ll go for Roberta Flack - "The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face",
Or better still “Just falling in Love”.
So, my heart will sing, and I’ll be happy as one can be,
Categories:
obfuscated, joy, sad,
Form:
Free verse
Mr. Washington I want to know
what would you have to say?
as you gaze upon this land
if you were still alive today
what would be your thoughts
on a nation that lost its way
would you stand and fight?
like on that long ago day?
Mr. Washington would you stand by us?
would you stand by the American Nationalist?
to stand against left wing hate?
rebuttal looney lefts accusation of terrorist?
Is this the country you wanted?
or have they destroyed your vision?
your Constitution no longer applies here
Mr. Washington what would be your decision?
Mr. Washington do you remember Thomas Jefferson?
"it is the right of the people to alter or abolish it, and to institute new government"
now would you still take up arms?
fight the tyrants with pure determinant?
what do you think about uncapped capitalism?
how about a multi racial society rotten to the core?
is this what you mean by all men are created equal?
or are your words obfuscated and what for?
Categories:
obfuscated, life,
Form:
Lyric
Spirited meeting, don't faint
Real or surreal, it is momentary, as cannot stay long on the same plane
Want to protect from mirthless life's winding chimes
Only if it was easy as mending the book's spine
Rarely lurking demons underneath the bed
Don't waste yourself peeking beneath the bed
Blindfold daydreaming,lines you up to heaped relics of unsung martyrs in a sepulcher
Starkly outshine rabid prince makes shy away the vulture
Never be too soft or daft
Not completely at fault, for programmed specimen of the mightier craft
Amidst the bantering on lease
Just don't succumb to the whisper of inherited guilt please
In summation to any wrong answer
Even rustling waft of your ashes will be sneezed at
Don't plug out the sound of closing doors
Sign to focus on the right one just designed for you
Betide as it was destined
Brush frivolous talk aside as choice is destiny's invoice
Essential to periodical diuresis of precarious enslavement
Rejoice to all sensations, before obfuscated by life's retirement
Categories:
obfuscated, anxiety, mentor, voice,
Form:
Free verse
Verb
What is a poem absent the context of motion
a meandering spark of nebulous intent
a senseless sentiment bereft of sphere
an ultimately monumental apparition
a lie of omission
and a trivial pursuit of nothing
there can be no intensity before breathing
before tasting the gun smoke
rebellion and anguish in the air
before inhaling the acrimonious stench
of one-sided comfortable silences
and before biting one’s tongue until rage and red ink
suddenly crescendo into a scream
you’re a poet…
so what?
a world full of torment and vitriolic laughter
is no place for empty sentiments
in the end what sacrament
will you have sacrificed silence for
what will be the punch line of it all
when the stars are obfuscated by
your failure to protect the sky
and all of the water is as black
as the hearts of the damned
and the Earth has chosen to mirror
the austerity of men
when all the choirs have died
and there’s no one left to praise you
who will you pray to
who will be your refuge
when you finally deduce that you are small?
will you awaken
when the apocalypse descends
will your words miraculously echo new meaning
alighting seraphic wings to reach the ears of God
an apology shabbily prefacing their recollections
when there is nothing left to say
in real life
what do your insights incite
where is your wit
the incisive intent of your pen
what hours odds and ends are too long for your will
too over the top for your “god given gifts”
how will you be remembered
in the end
as you reached for the stars
how deep did you dig
were you the oracle that God intended
the deliverer of liberation
diminishing the sum of the dimness
if it took withholding nothing to save a no one
how much were you willing to give them
when it is all said and done
what truly was?
in retrospect
when you spoke
what did you move?
Categories:
obfuscated, change, community, engagement, god,
Form:
Free verse
I waited
Under the outspread foliage
Of the banana tree,
With ripening fruits dangling precariously,
Wondering,
With eyes set on the earth,
Wishing I understood
This everlasting madness.
To what end would man go,
To what end?
A mystery it remains,
Like the age old conundrum
Of the seniority between the hen and the egg,
Like the unfathomable depths of the bottomless pit...
Oh! Lamenting in unbridled grief,
Mother of all,
Seated on an ashen throne,
Wails poignantly,
While her children trade mighty fists,
Wetted by her tears,
Buoyed no less by her flashing darts
Of fierce reproof..
I, a mere bystander,
Watching, meditating, confused,
Lost, trying to understand what
Led to such fisticuffs
Between brothers who sucked on
The small obfuscated nipple
And rode the same burdened back..
Yes!
To what abysmal end?
What, hidden under the rigid crusts of the earth
Drives man to seek so zealously
To bury his fellow man
Six inches below
And shake his head
From side to side
Wearing rehearsed frowns,
Indifferent, obeying the laws
Of anarchy, and basking
In the prestige
Of ill advantage?
For in these matters,
Fasidically christened "the survival arts"
Men show sleight of hand,
Dexterity and mastery of the deleterious science
Of death...
And for his fellow, he is unapologetic..
Fallen, have you into the cesspool
And mucky wastes of nothingness,
You survived not,
And as such, were not fit to survive...
We, must hold our
Small heads in mad agony,
For shamelessly, we have
Trampled on the little men,
So dastardly disparaged
Till they shrunk,
Into tiny ants
Who suffer in silence
While the mammoths fight
For the trophy from Sheol..
I wondered....
Days passed,
Nights went by, sleep eluded me,
Nightmares sought out my deranged mind
And tormented me,
And I could not bear it any longer!
I searched the lengths and breadths of the earth
For answers, from men
wizened beyond my years,
But found them not...
I found only fools,
Tightly snuggled in their cosy territories
With mighty barricades
And tall barb-wired fences,
Throwing orgies...
For they had defeated themselves...
It was then, I slept...
This time, in the gentle
Stillness of the Caspian,
Wishing I was never born....
Categories:
obfuscated, bereavement, birth, confusion, visionary,
Form:
Free verse
I am the hunter with belt and sword.
I am captivity and desires searched for.
Great my name has become.
My dynasty is vast.
I stand for truth and honor.
Many have tried to defeat me.
Many I have defeated.
I am glory and shame in a world devoured.
So overwhelmed that we sputters to speak but overcame undefeated.
I am Law and Justice.
My government is Monarch.
I am the Emperor and Judge.
My engagements are that of Poet and Philosopher
edification to instruct my people out of darkness.
So obfuscated they splutter to speak but I am there as their teacher.
Mystification is our world.
Those who find us are forewarn that we are given life by God;
therefore, we are sentient to what is said.
If he or she sojourns, he or she must learn our ways.
So distinguished we are.
Categories:
obfuscated, birth, business, care, character,
Form:
Epic
When a tree is felled....!
When a tree is felled, a sad ring of deathknell,
With it goes for many - their tiny places to dwell!
How much of Earth will man's greed consume ?
Very many forms discovered by him to subsume;
Bottomless appetite you expect to satiate,
And his thoughts so contrive only to ingratiate!
Every stroke of the axe and gnaw of the saw,
Spells doom at the hands of that ominous paw!
Aren't trees - balancing poles protecting this rock,
From heat and for rains during this tightrope walk!
Uses varied and very many by their sheer presence,
Must stop felling them under all and any pretense!
Trees exhale precious oxygen that built many a life,
Inhaling noxious gases produced by man, 'oh' in rife!
Varieties of food they provide on which we live on,
Yet, Ungrateful as ever, we cut now to later bemoan.
Self will of a man cull them, falsely claiming strife,
It is his own string of life that he cuts with a knife.
Takes decades for them to grow in size and stature;
Only a few minutes for us to dismiss and forfeiture!
What right and authority is human vested with?
When superiority he claims is only a blind eye myth!
Inter-woven life is obfuscated to meet his own end,
Obliterating efforts of good men, yet many refusing to mend.
Trees are the source for basics - food, water and shelter;
Man strikes at the root, leaving no room in time to alter!
Enough has been done in the last twenty odd decades,
Showing man's true colours against visible facades.
If it is an event where man is pitted against another man,
Spares nothing - hook or crook, for his way alone to span!
Preternatural tendency of man alone to strive,
Killing, 'spirit of co-existence' in which all life jive!
Warp and weft in whole in which trees are essentials,
Warp and woof - why man ignores their credentials!
Claiming to be highly evolved, will just not suffice,
Spirit of 'live and let live' - make this heaven's orifice!
Categories:
obfuscated, environment, natural disasters, nature,
Form:
Free verse
Reckoned I’d write a bit o’ rhymin’ in the cowboy vein;
it slipped outta my lasso and I couldn’t take the rein.
So then I tries my hand at rap
But, white as sand, pheel like a sap
An’, like debates Republicanned, it was all a bunch a cr*p.
Freely versed New Yorkers’
obfuscated, seasonal frame;
still the acorn froze despite the early thaw
that sighed through the Alphabet Jungle.
Minimalism
sucked.
Haiku too proved too
easily misunderstood,
or pretty petty.
Couldn’t
Conquer
Complete
Concrete.
Acrostic
Couldn’t
Really
Offer
Something
That
I
Cherished.
Categories:
obfuscated, funny, on writing and
Form:
Bio
I am the hunter with belt and sword.
I am captivity and desires searched for.
Great my name has become.
My dynasty is vast as a Roman Legion.
I stand for truth and honor.
Many have tried to defeat me.
Many I have defeated.
I am glory and shame in a world devoured.
So overwhelmed that we sputters to speak but overcame undefeated.
I am Law and Justice.
My government is Monarch.
I am the Emperor and Judge.
My engagements are that of Poet and Philosopher edification to instruct my people out of darkness.
So obfuscated, they splutter to speak but I am there as their teacher.
Mystification is our world.
Those who find us are forewarn that we are given life by God,
therefore, we are sentient to what is said.
If he or she sojourns, he or she must learn our ways.
So distinguished we are.
We have conquer multitudes.
Delegation to our land we deploy.
Emissaries formed and our people adhere.
We rejoice over our victories.
Measures are not require.
We know who we are.
This is our Empire beyond the stars.
Galactic bears as named.
Galactians are woman, man, and child.
Our minds are affixed.
Our hearts are forbidden.
We are not forsakes of love.
We are the image of unions.
Neither he nor she achieves without some form of unity.
Here is our belief and our creed.
We are the Galactians of Orion.
Constellation on the equator east of Taurus, we are one world diverse.
Our people are multifarious.
We are unions unified.
Our missions is to remain distinguishable from all others.
Strength of our brothers is strength to all.
Solidarity is domain, which includes woman and child.
Diversification must form.
Mixt we are colors all around.
Amalgamation is a twilight zone.
We are the Galactians.
Once discovered, we embrace.
Conformity is our aspect.
We informed with a straight face.
Life is not lost here.
Our horde will segment.
Our ways must be sought.
To those that come, whether by choice or coincidental, we inform.
Our creed is our belief that anyone can be a Galactian.
Within a dream, we may live.
Within in a world, we are.
If you are the choice or the coincident, we are your protector from enmity.
We are the Galactians.
We are warriors and man!
As a Roman Legion, we possess the power and the strength.
_________________________________/
Date Written: March 29, 2014
For the Roman Legion Contest
Categories:
obfuscated, adventure, character, courage, dream,
Form:
Free verse
The air slipped onto the gramaphone the needle cutting me bleeding on the floor as mannequins watched with there masquerade masks sewn on took my arm saying "care to dance my lady" as we waltzed into the night transcending emotions filled the room with essence as i laid head rested on his shoulders looking up around surround sound saying " i didnt think mannequins could tarantella like that " in the ballroom swinging in symetry.
Blood clotted dirt in the wound muddy dark night, disfigured body parts the flicker in my mind goes out again like a light in an obfuscated room, Drug fueled visions bottle hanging through whos that climbing through the windows fingertips single flick of the light switch painting of that ditch under the morgue worn torn asunder plunder linger gun slinger sling your hook look the parties over.
Categories:
obfuscated, dance, drink, gothic, mental
Form:
Lyric
Death by Turtle
(An Eagles Snack Kills Aeschylus)
With light along the quiet beach receding
Sun and sand sink on obfuscated facts
Great tragedian figures don't live forever in the past
Along the shore where Sicilian eagles lift their wings
To drop turtles from on high to crack a shell wide open
Where Aeschylus walks by
Turtles can not fly
They fall on strangers or someone famous
Perhaps a bald man who writes Greek tragedy
Just another rock according to a hungry eagle
The day goes south and sour for poor Aeschylus
Mundane walks should be as simple as a thought
Without objects falling from the sky on him
How strange is fate, a tragic twist, a comedy
Death by turtle is never kind or even great
But sure is quick
An eagles snack kills poor Aeschylus
The turtle survived but walks with a limp
Slower than usual and was never taken in for questioning
Poor thing lives with sad memories
We think the eagle quit the hard shell industry
Too many injuries
*Authors note: This happens to be a historical fact. Aeschylus was bludgeoned to death by a turtle dropped from on high by an eagle.
Categories:
obfuscated, animal, appreciation, celebrity, change,
Form:
Free verse
In my chest is a black void
That has left me annoyed
I'm tired of rhyming schemes
And vapid memes
I'm tired of perplexed faces
In outrageous places
Life is like a checkerboard
Where every king is abhorred
If I reach the other side
I'll still be a pawn trying to hide
My thoughts are obfuscated by clouds
And this inner anger that shrouds
This is my life and I'm not proud
To see I'm all alone without a crowd
When I'm the only one I'm lonely
A stony phony pronely
Adept at throwing shade at my own life
And digging holes to fill them with strife
Because without the struggle I've got nothing
I'm just rushing to feel something
I'm being suffocated by my thoughts
But this fate is what I wrought
So I just want you to look me in the eyes
And tell me when I'm telling lies
Look at the tears staining pillows and sheets
When at thirty three I'm still without feats
And I don't want to be wrong
I just want to belong
And if that must be wrong
Then life will be long
A grisly song on repeat
As I face my defeat
And if I have to repeat
I'll march on these feet
To beg you to please meet
Me where lovers greet
Where brothers bleat
And mothers cheat
On another street
They smother sweets
And just like me there is a void
That has them all annoyed
But when you fill emptiness with emptiness
You're left with simply this
Feeling of being lost and without cause
And reflecting on that it gives me pause
If I've dug holes and filled them with strife
It's time to grab the shovel and dig out my life
And you can call me a pawn
Or say I'm small like a prawn
But I'll never be a bootlicker's spawn
Because it's always darkest before dawn
Categories:
obfuscated, how i feel, identity,
Form:
Free verse