Deception Poems

Deception Has Deep Roots

Shall we travel back in time, to a deception that has ruled mankind.
The year was 1910, a dark, dark night with seven evil men.
The creature that was created there, has left a country in despair.
As we have witnessed throughout time, the Feds, the wars, the Government and their crimes.
All it took for the machine to

That's Not Love

In opulence, you dwelled, with wealth's endearing might
Gifts rained upon me, a gesture of your fleeting light
Thoughtful, you seemed, in moments of tender reprieve
Yet, when our bond broke, your words became a venomous deceive

You branded me an opportunist, with lips that scorned
Now I discern the truth, that love was never born
For love can't be bought,

Truthful Lies

Whispers draped in silver thread,
Promises soft, but sharp when read,
The tongue, a painter, skilled and sly,
Crafts a world from truthful lies.

A candle glows in shadow’s skin,
Light concealed where dark begins,
Hope is sold in fragile guise,
By merchants dealing truthful lies.

They dress the wound with tender care,
While leaving poison hidden there,
A smile can mask a thousand cries,
And

Blood That Isn't Mine

A name I gave, a hand I fed,
Nights of toil, my dreams I bled.
The cradle rocked with borrowed cries,
Yet truth lay veiled in whispered lies.

I wore the crown of fatherhood,
Built a home from flesh and wood.
But silence kept its sharpened sword,
And struck me down—paternity fraud.

DNA, a ruthless guide,
Revealed the secret long denied.
The mirror cracked, the

Tumultuous Hearts

In the atmospherev of love, a paradox reigns
Where women chase the tumult, the heart's pains
A nice guy's gentle touch, a soothing breeze
Bores them, and they yearn for the stormy seas

Peace, a virtue men pursue, is a curse
To women, who crave the whirlwind's traverse
A man will flee the drama, the emotional strife
But women cling to the

The Unbroken Spirit of African Leaders' Legacy

Africa's land, shadows of colonialism still linger
Leaders rise, with hearts aflame, resisting the fetters
Of Western dominance, a legacy of dolor
Their courage, a luminary, in the dark of night's refrain
Kwame Nkrumah's vision, a guiding radiance
Pan-Africanism's fervor, burning bright
Unity and self-determination, his battle cry
Ghana's freedom, his legacy, forever exalted

Julius Nyerere's Ujamaa, a path less trod
Self-reliance's puissance, Tanzania's

New Sonnet 4 'Unlike a Spurgeon, I by dull words unfold'

Unlike a Spurgeon, I by dull words unfold
The limits of my Sarah's love for me,
But I realize that the rot and stink and mold
Are all within my mind, beneath my See.
There is no other person who can love
For me.  It is my duty and my joy.
It is the Truth that True Love is made

Deception

At sunset, orange frescos on the west wall
Sink gradually into the bowels of hills flung
By distant wavelengths of a backward illusion,
Which yells silently at concupiscent terns,
Yodelling and returning from carnivals of the
Wild. From the faint glow, a rainbow stretches
For a cuddle, musing over a curious world,
Ditched by diaphanous tarradiddles of the odd.
Shadows on ground level

Deception

I’ll fall in love with the ideas you give
But never match the expectations you demanded 
I’ll worship your existence and every word you say 
And yet you’ll always bring me down to the cold ground

To Know The Truth

Does life to anyone really make sense?
Or is all of mankind, really this dense?
God offers his wisdom and truth to man,
Yet it still seems we seldom understand.

Are we blinded by reason, and logic?
Surely, it’s not genes or biologic?
While meditating on things I don’t know,
It came to me; the culprit is ego.

Its goal is to always

Legerdemain

The magician wore 
my mother’s perfume
and conjured family 
from thin air—
a brother renamed uncle,
a wife recast as mother,
a daughter vanishing 
behind a tale of bees.

Each sleight of hand was tender—
a hush, a smile, a bowl of soup
cooling on the Formica
while the truth was sawed in half
and tucked beneath the linoleum.

No one told me why
my “uncle”

Thistle Tea

She brewed it slow,
the thistle steeped—
a greyish brown
in porcelain grace.

Each sip, a sting—
a bitter bloom,
but she smiled,
claiming peace.

At first, a wince,
then less, then none—
until the taste
was home enough.

No sugar added,
no honey balm,
just thorn and grass
and quiet aches.

“How did she bear?”
they often ask.
“It’s the way I like it,”
she often says.

But bitterness
never just begins—
it’s learned,
one sip a

Nebula of Lies

You had me
for a year, I believed it all was true.
Every moment, every action,
how could it not be?

Like a serpentine snake,
you slithered inside my mind, my body,
squeezing out all my trust,
all I believed in you.

You made me lower my guards.
I believed.
I wished I didn’t.

You showered me with love,
a cascade, a toxic waterfall,
drowning me in a

Today's leaders

From ashes of pain, true leaders rise,
Forged in struggle’s unyielding cries.
Yet now, from gilded thrones of greed,
False prophets spawn, with lies they breed.
They weave deceit, a cunning art,
To hijack souls and rend the heart.
Using hired blades and looted dimes,
They buy men to side their evil dreams
Behind a flag, their falsehoods creep,
While nation bleeds and victims

The Deception

Maybe some of us have an inclination and are somehow aware

That there exists a foredoomed concoction of our cerebral affairs

And that there are others who are passive, masquerading in plain sight

Hiding their cascades of sorrow, behind facades of solace and smiles

Nobody knows of what escapades, that each of us were bequeathed

Yet perhaps we all know

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