Best Pretenses Poems
Soldier stashed a silver locket
Safe inside his jacket pocket
When the war would numb his senses
He’d break down and drop pretenses
Open up the only token
That recalled those thoughts unspoken
Images of infant, young wife
For their freedom, he’d give his life
A lie, wrapped in deception, in the cloak of silent nights
Deception, soothing as black ink, until dried
The wetness caresses the illusion of pretenses white
When it dries, one is exposed to the evil dark fright
A lie inside a lie inside a lie, inside the Pandora’s box
Unwrap it all you will witness the sly red fox
Run from the forest that consumes the noble heart
Lay your eyes on the Gothic inspired cathedral ceilings
From there, is but heavens start
As the symphony plays the rhapsody of life
Remember always the deceiver for his bringing strife
Raise your hands like a conductor of brave hearts
Speak up and speak out, when you see the silent
Darkness bring you illusions in the night
Beware of the dark lamb, and hold up the noble light
With ethereal dreams, one day you know what is right
I believe that poetry is and of is was were have has been of as one pretenses a
poetic practical pompous, pro (p) ransomedramatical postenses
pretending to prose promise a
predictive premise primatory practicum politicallty
polishing practcoriam process of primary
preliminary postures pragmatic promulgates
telling the ta ta tumultuous tillo tales of tawdry
banal blog lists calling me to quali-quantify the reso-resolutes
resounding in resilient quo quotients that bear a
breach bridgeborn badge billed
barometer bearing broad billboard
catatonic catashrospies creating caustic crill
coffinistic coiffures canonizing
socio unsettling leo linguistic lies in a somewhat
lovevoid livid liquiditoria regal
ransom based regalia resonating
rawbone residual retinal real time
tombosoties transitioning with
toying transient trio tide tooth
crass cavity craino creep mandibulo master mildew
mold molecular mamsy-pamsy sillopsuedo master of
ever me present I , me , mine, maestro
sitting back and looking at the world as a place to be
not to be, hope to be, wish to be, be to be, in the
proper primer of humino yesnomenclatureculture of that which is u
me us our belief sem radical of our prim-ordeal sociodiscontentselfevident
irrelevant mean fullness, to countercure our quick/quack quotient
umbrella upbringing to say do write feel text tank athink
all that is emo exit everpresent to keep the fecal faces free of
founding father status inquo man although time is time in place.
Mindfulness is a mute place ill unattended by sociocrap everlasting.
Treasure travel inviting innate needs netherly nodding to the primo positive
practitudes of acoustic ancillary annotated awareness, allowing all annuities
ancient archaic to willfully wind wind waveringly wish away intrinsic id-ideas.
It it is what u want it it to be, say, scroll, live, plural, self to self. Use it, lose it,
share it, beware it, con-cure it, it. Know it it's criminal capitol is wary for before
u know it it, life it before it its u, and will its it and
ego ale all eek out the precious profit of its itdom idiocracy illusionary in its
illogical inness so mad made as not to gravely gravitate ungracious griefs
upon your its it.
scary huh. Karma it, Big Daddy.
September 24 Scripture Meditations Based on Mark 11-12
Key Verse– Mark 12:24 And Jesus answering said unto them, Do ye not therefore err, because ye know not the scriptures, neither the power of God?
MY GOD, THANK YOU FOR EXPOSING MY ERROR
Thank You for exposing my error of showy spirituality
By Your revealing sovereignty
To prove me toward tested Christianity
Midst pretenses along beliefs’ uncertainty.
Thank You for exposing my error of deceptive relationship
By Your converting leadership
To turn me toward faithful stewardship
Midst prayerlessness along worldliness’ friendship.
Thank You for exposing my error of impure motives
By Your sanctifying directives
To straighten me toward holy prerogatives
Midst poverty along discontentment’s alternatives.
Thank You for exposing my error of shallow devotion
By Your empowering salvation
To transform me toward genuine dedication
Midst preferences along doubts’ confusion.
Thank You for exposing my error of subtle hypocrisy
By Your enlightening mercy
To illumine me toward sincere fervency
Midst pride along complacency’s deficiency.
Thank You for exposing my error of worthless engagements
By Your fulfilling involvements
To lead me toward heavenly investments
Midst persistency along commitment’s agreements.
Thank You for exposing my error of selfish interests
By Your faith strengthening bests
To uphold me toward good work-harvests
Midst persecutions along priorities’ tests.
September 24, 2022
September 25, 2022 POTD
Rain drizzling on the window pane
Sullen moments, filled with melancholy
Wishes glued to hopes of sunshine
Rays washing away the storm clouds,
The gray day – the tempestuous darkness
Nothing in life ever felt quite as dismal
As the overcast moments when I was left
To my own devices, my own pretenses
Inside the house, where nothing felt as pleasant
As the wonders, the wildness, of the outdoors
As gloom settled into my pores, releasing
Me from the melted boredom, the dullness
Inside, where I only had a tv, books, board
Games and, of course, those imaginary departures
From those homemade paper airplanes…
Who soared, eagerly, riotously – toward destinations
Unknown, into cities and towns where I felt
The racing of my pulse as my heart sped zealously
Reminding me that this was a journey, a freedom
Far freer than any other I had been on…
For this was the flight that would take me –
Into kingdoms, fantasies, imaginary places
Where I could build fictional metropolises
Fantastic castles – rich and amazing moments
That were colored in hues of fanciful inventions
From a mind who was irked by the dismal wet weather
PAPER AIRPLANES Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: John lawless
August 12, 2022
Flames of desire mesmerize
Instantly provocative to tantalize
Recklessly smoldering embers stirred
Enticing arousal... seduction occurs
Stoking the fire again and again
No strings attached is only plan
Both have reasons to turn away
Smoke exhausts all reasons one day
Forbidden sex arouses all senses
Ghost voyeurs char pretenses
Once guilt and shame are activated
Hardcore explosions... incinerated
No strings attached cannot persevere
Fire leaves ashes of all we hold dear
Written 5-3-2016
Sing, O Goddess, of my petulant wrath.
That which I’ve failed to address for so long.
Speak and guide my hand to express
The words of extremity needed to voice:
Passions of violent nature performed.
I have such strange verses to bare.
My hands are quaking with unrealized strokes
Of genius that may yet flow forth from I
My tongue is wet with wanton wanting,
Breathing, believing in all I deplore.
I forefront this painstaking proclamation
With pretenses of seduction and sweet
Manipulation. I hope you get my meaning.
I have strained and sullied my own name
To achieve a stage of pure expression.
I pray to the goddess of art and music
That she may pluck my strings as her
Kithara, her disclosure, her discord.
Perhaps this line will liberate me.
I could stop this senseless seduction
Of myself to share my mind in this message
Of either vindication or virulent codependency,
With either pretense my name is upon
The dotted line, cosigning this dissent.
It matters not where my influence lay.
Who listens, and who may do as I say.
My only concern I to briefly appeal
To some vague aesthetic ideal that I feel.
And I think it may be important.
Because I feel it. And it is so alive.
Isolated island entices my senses
With fruits,flowers,and white sand
A beauty with no other pretenses
The offerings of this gorgeous hot land
Ocean of a clear turquoise green
Skinny dipping in the cool waterfalls
Natures boutique is all that's seen
Free and sweeter without any walls
Night skies seen like no other before
Moon beams and stars shine brighter
Who could ever expect or want more
To gaze beauty as you hold me tighter
Colors brighter then any I've known
Bright yellows reds, greens, and blues
More brilliant then I'd ever been shown
On this paradise with so many hues
1st place
Contest:100 words exactly
Sponsor:Caren Krutsinger
9/15/2019
In a bubble
Of social interactions
Biden my time
Behind the gym
Until the trumpets pout and fluff
Punching I lay them all on the floor
Sadly life is down to the seconds
No time for self reflections
We jump on the slightest of offenses
holding our heads high on those pretenses
Our rights always trump our duties
Old hens chatter, yes a total disaster
A new world is born
Where insults are golden
And reality is scorned
Yet many prefer to promote interactions
Where seriously, is quite the foulest of transactions
Society now rewards those with the loudest actions
Your lies are numerous..
Consumed by your lies..
Deceived with utter disgust
You continue to lie..
Your lies are an explosive volcano..
Lies build..
Lies erupt..
Your lies spread..
Lava spreading lies everywhere..
When will the lies end at the finish line?
It literally is a race for time..
One day an eruption of lies shapes form..
Another day the lava spews toxins
Toxin building dishonesty..
Your lips move..
As you speak..
your words are calculating ..
As they are misleading..
You have spun a web..
Web of false pretenses..
Crooked web entangled..
Along side a snake slithering slowly..
In the grass..
You have no mercy..
As the truth resides many galaxy's away..
A volcano eruption..
Spewing lava filled with toxins.
Has turned into stone..
Outcome of your life..
Turned to stone..
Poisoned with toxins..
Loss of trust..
Lack of respect..
From your lies..
Body lanquage speaks volumes..
Body language confirms the lies..
Only one truth is in existence..
Which is..
The eyes..
The eyes never lie..
As the eyes are the window to the soul..
Another unwanted
passes through memories
down mundane streets
suburbs undaunted
available liquid pass
tempted nostril senses
youth invaded stolen by
unpure pretenses
soft like shreds of life
tears of laughter
preserve treads
to a childhood lost to
hereafter
A Soul grown cold repenting for the lies to come,
lays cast in addiction laced stains of anguished fantasies.
With a tortured logic knowing the only way out is further in,
the Beast awaits its dawn, waking only to be fed again.
A circle that never arcs, scheming to envisage a new identity.
Withered and weary pretenses that are no longer attended,
never ending till the last taste is savored.
Maybe tomorrow...
02/26/2020
Life in a nutshell
where simplist of wires are strung
tiptoeing in the delicate balance
what can be done is done
wrongs from rights
days falling over nights
not doing too much of one
leaving it up to another
a brother, a sister, a care
pretenses can't pretend to disappear
but if you listen, you can hear
and you can see as waves wash
upon love and tranquility
life in a nutshell
broken down for you, for me
together
we can all, just be
"We are moving fast towards an age where people will be lovers of self, lovers of
money, self-seeking. Self-gratifying, laying aside morality, spirituality, family
values, and God, for self-preservation, self-gratification, and a cheap thrill.
2 Timothy 3:1-5
Beautiful, Black, Precious, and Complicated
Nothing else like it has ever been fabricated because the recipe stated the
ingredients are outdated. And the original chef barely got credit when He made it.
So without sounding antiquated, let me tell you how I'm rated:
My Beauty is my quality that offers pleasure to the mind or senses. It gives me a
conspicuous essence to remonstrate the world's false pretenses. My temple
becomes a domineering visual aspect of grace, radiating a Saint's best quality
on a child-like face.
I'm Bold, Black, and Original of course. I stand with full force and demonstrate my
strength with no remorse. It's a color of authority and power as stylish and
timeless as an extraordinary and eloquent flower.
I am Precious, Gentle, Sweet, and Simple. I make all my flaws seem accidental.
A treasured soul that can't become nothing less than monumental. It only makes
sense that my ingredients are kept confidential.
Sophisticated and Complicated I remain, yet such a *****, audacious bird.
Professionally e-nun-ci-a-ting every word and ar-ti-cu-la-ting every verb. Inquiring
about uncanny intellect which remains unheard.
My aura and my persona suggests Royalty among most high. Promising me a
productive future and a thrill of a ride. So the next time you happen to stumble
across me, the child of a King, I prefer to be referred to as MISS QUEEN in your
dialect of linguistic strings.
All those lies,
The creaking on the stairs
Glazed fixed eyes
Upon scuff marked boots
My abrupt croak,
Droned-out by sudden humming
From the refrigerator
My voice falls,
Pitched to the floor
Like suspended in time
To look upon these photos now
Hold nothing but false pretenses
A mirrored hope,
To escape for plummeting slopes
Our roots untouched lay
Fuming in collective dust
Along the many volumes
None would ever breach
Poisingly I held my chin,
Towards the cupping sun
Lapping in all it's warmth
Knowing with just two words
I'd stop the flooding dams, "No More"