Falsities Poems

Flames And Fire

Lies are a bill you pay later
And they might make you a traitor
Cut your nose to spite your face
But you have surely lost this race
In your hands you held a life
That you chose to give nothing but strife
So now you want to play messiah
But in reality you're just a pariah
Look at all of those who walked away
A social circle dwindled to nothing today
And you keep running but keep falling
From the bevy of sins we find appalling
You put up walls, dilapidated walls
Destined and damned to fall
If you present a D to evil it becomes the devil
And now for you that's just a lost level
Because you fail to measure up to your grade
And now from all sides you face the shade
And now you see lies are a bill you pay later
But it still hurts my heart to call you a traitor
Lies rely on more lies to get by to get high
To fly and soar and sigh and ask why
You wasted your chance to be a messiah
And now you're just a pathetic pariah
Who peddled falsities like a liar
Now you face the flames and fire

Lie To Me

Tell me now, tell me a truth. 
Lie somehow, make me sleuth. 
Pieces have fallen from your lips
Of a puzzle that on my heart grips. 
Nothing fits, none of it matters. 
Honest or liar, you’ve been the latter. 
You told me hold on, you said loosen your grip does not. . 
Doe to my fawn, I have white knuckles, burns from when it was hot. 
So lie again, whisper sweet
But pour my drink; bourbon, neat. 
Because excitement is not part of listening 
When I see the falsities drip off your teeth, glistening. 
Try not to lie, without parting your lips
Because when words slip; time to lay down the chips. 
I have vision after our past. 
Hence my forlorn face is downcast. 
Because I still sit here, I still believe. 
As long as you, my redemption, allow me some room to breathe.

Cloaked In Their Untruths

Cloaked in Their Untruths
By Sy Roth

Behind a cloak their little secrets roved,
Like silent, swishing vagrants eluding the truth
The darkness so thick,
A wall of impenetrable secrets built around it.

Leaving the unclosing to callow youth 
Senseless in their wasteful trepidation,
They took no time to explore their truths
Dressed in slim, tight gabardine their desires arrested.

They had no need to validate, 
No desires to explore.
Lost opportunities heaped into a morass of speculation
Until the voices of the antecedents were silenced.

Screams of loss as the span between life and death widen
They find in their own selves no validity
Only a vacuity in a tale filled with inconsistencies
That are bungee cords flipping them hither and yon unbound.

No way to make whole the person in a sere fabric
When the stories are filled with imagined realities.
They erect their own corpus on a land of falsities
Left only with mislaid dreams of not taking time with the whole cloth.

The Last Day

After much consideration, I believe
Most people dim hope tight cleave.
Grief is the vital human weave.

There is comfort in easiness.
People find delight in sleaziness.
All are believed to speak falsities ness.

Fear does not lead to depression or rage.
For a while, fleeting yaw fears cast and assuage.
Akin to ice cream when entirely dodge.
 
If you've seen the colors, you cannot refuse them.
If you've heard the sounds, you cannot reject them.
If you put in a bit of effort, you will grow wisdom.

People have been enduring painful toil.
People have been rejecting any embroil
The activity took them away from the turmoil.

The prices were significantly lower.
The risk of depleting their savings rise slower
Desiring to save money while playing poker.

This universe has been wholly upended.
I must do it until the day I fall dead.
You must proceed once the tank is loaded.

Let's atone for what happened in the past.
The obvious is simply being assert
Tomorrow will be here and even fast.

On Being Soulful

On Being Soulful

Spiritual moments
on being soulful
find their certain
metaphysical aspects
when one seeks a
deeper meaning
and a sense
of true joy,
by connecting
with one’s soul
that lies at the
very core of all
human beings
and their
individual existence
on this
physical entity,
we all call
and know, as—
Our Mortal Earth,
Our Mother Earth. 

Thinking about
and truly
understanding the
special elements,
and the wholly
transcendental nature
of one’s self-ego,
whilst mastering
the spiritual art
of self-reflection,
whereby—
one finds
His or Her
true ethereal sense
and begins
to see
Mortal Life
entirely unfettered,
and without any
human falsities
and obvious
facades of deceit—
that speak directly
to the
essence of
balance and harmony,
and the
true cosmic
passion and purpose
of the
spirit of soulfulness.

It’s this
that brings
all of us
in the end
closer to
God’s Kingdom
and to
Almighty God Himself.

Amen.

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
December 22, 2018 (Verse)

Fake Truths

I am not an undecided.
Disgruntled yes....

Unhappy about the undertones
Which appear to be the outlier,
Smothering our public discourse.
Tired of untruths
demanding fact checking,
Those falsities which become 
The popular talking points
Of minions too lazy to check themselves.

Unhappy about our current leadership, and
...........Their failure to lead.
Political verbiage endearing the voter's need to hear,
But failing the public needs objectively.

This is still the best country to call home.
Overall, most live with finer conveniences,
Opportunity abounds with education and career.
The brightest minds excell when free to create,
Freedom being the catalyst for adventure and innovation.

We are not oppressed or suppressed,
But the Yoke of current affairs
Is choking out the truth,
The truth now being a joke 
Of what is really true....

What Has This World Come To

What has this world come to?
That all men are hypocrites 
That all men have falsities 
That all men hide behind a mask of fake courage
Because they are not brave enough to face their fears

What has this world come to?
That man does wicked and evil things
And the world thinks it to be an act of mercy
That those who are weak get strength
By diminishing the strength of the powerful
That the strong heed the voices of the weak 
And give in to deprssin and anxiety

What has this world come to? 
Answer me people!
It can not be just me who sees this. 
This has to be someone else's worls aswell.
And we must fix it before we drown ourselves
In war and terror

Fabricated Faeries Philosophies

Forevermore, this fantastical
free verse features
a fortuitous tale
featuring forty-four flirty
frilly fabricated faeries
fractionally forsaken, 
forever fictionalized 
philosophically and phonetically
free to force
feisty forest phantoms 
to frenzy. These feisty forest faeries,
frequently act like 
femme fatales, for whom 
we fire phantoms feel free
to fixate for future faerie flocks.
Foundationally, this un-formidable free verse 
is free of falsities, but fraught with fiction and fantasy.

Obsessions

I’ve become dangerously obsessive and it’s starting to cause pain

Not on others, boy I wish, but I’m all theres to blame

It’s tearing me up, my mind is rot, it’s not aesthetically pleasing 

For certain obsessions only inspire devilish laughs and teasing

If only it was classic symbols my mind hungrily wants

Looking glasses, chess and clocks, all Alice’s old haunts 

But nothing’s poetic about television , falsities and actors

The hypnotic items you dearly cling are only grave detractors

They draw you from central virus, the depended burning fire

It doesn’t matter of which you do obsess
All are maddened by desire

Quack

A tuning is often a turning. But attunement takes longer than eighty-three minutes and fifty-five seconds. Landing a duck sponge is fantastic fun in a boat yard. It is very very helpful to assist both boats and feathered ones. Surely the plan is to assist all? When passing a willow at junction eighteen be aware that a slug can move quickly as per instructions from yacht based personnal. And a tweed hat is supposed to be put in a large jar of mustard to eradicate the stench of self absorbed monetary values. So spoke the wild wilderness. With paws pass over the fauna. In a midnight glow a lake could deliver many secrets. If drained could release some dollars. Will not a bee buzz past then? Adhere not to falsities of the mystic pies. For they are dust bombs in a carcass ridden land. Jeopardise not a tail of a forteen foot serpent. And give a wave to a cave when riding in a cable car. Clam came close causing chaotic chasms. And the pink whale with bulging eyes chatting with ten kilos of paperwork. Pinprick that then with a pineapple. Great. X admonishment Z

Infiltration Inks

Hop skip jump laugh and dance then for fear feeds fragile fornicating frogs. And as spots are squeezed and pus ejected. The falsities beneath are plainly on display. No more hiding in boiled bumps. Serving stewing stakes stairs stained stares. Minding the ever increasing corners of protruding print processions. Flags held high. Over twenty thousand feet. But no boots in sky paths. And no grass coloured cloud could ever play a clarinet. Now before I eat an egg with toast I must clarify one thing. The radius of a fridge freezer is measured only by balancing pillows on one's head and playing monopoly with the cupboard doors. Drawers are excluded. Denied access you see. Due their un orderly ways. It is very disrespectful to the spoons. Hook then a towel. And spear sausages. Goodbye and goodnight. Many eras. Many moons. Many mandalas. Haha candlelit  tables dancing in mid air. Haha hows the horse? Hmmm indoctrinated intoxicated introverted ignorant insect. And a beef cutlet wit melon jus. *** institutionalised z a big Z

Pointless Print

A butter tin, a biscuit packet, a shampoo bottle, a can of hairspray. Writing writing writings. Inherited wisdom of print. Wow. Exclusive. And dip doo doo. Well it takes an elephant with round glasses on a field trip to study. Really quite ridiculous. Lines and Luna characteristics shrouded in a cavernous vault of systematic judgemental falsities. So beware. Be very aware. Oh dear. A rattle is stuck in a tree. Or is it a train. Or is it a minefield. Colour that in then. Sell sell sell. Mission done. Domes. Shoot shot shat. Sew and a good morning. And a night. Meetinghouse not in print then. Just die death deathly dipping drape. How cosy it must be. 500 £ or 5 million dollars hmmm interesting. Tailored trapped tea partygoers in lobster suits fry fry fry on yachts drinking salty sanitized sambucca. Hahahaha but no hahahaha. *** Deuteronomy dog. Z capital z.

Cognitive Dissonance

Lost in amorous creations 
Disposal                               as                               dalliance 
A catalyst for infatuation 

Clandestine Plans 
Blood                               Soaked                               Hands 
Hiding faith behind abject Science 

She                               is                     my                     Heartsore                     Happiness 

Dreams of   Blithesome hopes           
reality corrupts                               breeds animus 
Treacherous                               Teachers                     of                               Falsities,                                
our minds.           They molest 

Walk these long roads                    Carrying short ropes 
down this crooked path 
sharpened steel           digesting bone                    gnawed  flesh, 
we die alone 

Our hearts explode.                   Chewing destruction          we are slowly spoon fed 

adrift with no direction 
Forgot how to walk,                                         I can't learn how to feel 
Become the Living dead

Never Forget the Trash

Tiptoeing through word pockets	
Seems childishly delightful.
I litter kisses on your cheek
and hop into giddiness.
Nuzzling warmth into skin,
Smiling and saying nothing,
Patiently diluting the imminent explosion.

But the heart is not the head
And I want to tell you everything.

There is too much for
Simple sugary glee 
And I am desperate to share each sun burnt phrase,
Over and over again
So that we can peel away 
Non functioning syllables
Useless falsities and shy giggles of sweetness.

Let us dig and dig and dig until  
A painfully scribbled page appears
With nonsensical verses that 
Stab and scar and swell
And we un-crumple everything
Remove forgetfulness from the trash
And make it beautiful.

She Isn'T Real

She isn't real.
Near mere measures of perfection,
Upon the pedestal to be placed.
All faults beyond my exception;
Within consciousness falsities laced.

Wanted to feel,
Mortal intimacies elicited by her proximity,
To finally feel wholeness fulfill.
Cover my existence with normality,
Ultimately gratifying my eternal thrill.

Inability to deal:
Simple presents pose problematic,
Appearances irrational without reason,
Alterations of plans appear automatic.
My heart, ignoring my mind, commits treason.

Heart will seal.
Now my inabilities stretched past feeling.
Outward perceptions beyond dealing.
Consciousness and soul left reeling.
Uncomprehending of the things she's been stealing.
She isn't real.

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