Long Delusion Poems
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I didn’t grow up trying to better anyone
but I bettered the bitter and discovered haters one by one
turns out it’s a lonely place when you’re the champion
everybody wants a piece everyday on repeat
you see them looking at you with the envy in their eyes
because I worked out while they sat eating all the pies
the effort and the discipline continuous developing
playing sport and at the gym
while they weren’t doing anything
they think that I was born athletic lucky genes they say
while they watch tv smoke and laze lacking energy each day
hours they spend dreaming about glory and achieving what they ain’t
while I compete in competition hard work starts to pay
living dreams the actual scenes and getting lots of praise
while no one ever notices the ones dreaming they are great
desperate for attention they start to label you that way
I don’t want attention I enjoy the sports I play
they look for ways they better you in any category
and then they talk aloud about it most assuredly
making sure that people know until they all agree
they’ve finally found the sweet spot they’ve found a victory
but then you go and win something and all the people see
then everybody talks about it and you are centre scene
and this just grows the hate resentment and the jealously
so now they will compete with you every possibility
behaviour fuelled by envy and it’s obvious to me
if you are lazy you’ll grow bitter and be a nobody
and you’ll become an empty shell who dreams they do achieve
desperate to be noticed by the whole community
and you will have to tell yourself just how great you are
over time you will believe it and see yourself a star
but that is called delusion you’re not who you think you are
becoming confident and cocky a reality apart
your happy days will be the days others suffer hard
you’ll kick them down and dance around and talk to them real harsh
entitled lazy liar horrid no empathy or heart
and this is how you will achieve as the narcissist you are
all because you sat and dreamed and smoked and drank the bar listening to winning stories of those held in high regard
and as your ego disappears amongst the mental scars
you’ll be wishing you were someone else hating who you
saying lots of nasty to people so high up above you
while they can’t even hear you they just laugh and shoulder shrug you
My soul hates this type of love. It's literally my natural enemy. However, I am happy, truly, because I stay true to myself. At the same time, my anger is an acidic stream of fire more powerful than a billion PSI and roars at speeds greater than sound. I choose selfishness as my path in life. Love is never stronger than selfishness nor is selfishness stronger than love. Emotions don't have power alone, we give them power. Like swords, the wiser and more skillful one is at wielding them, the more rewards there are to reap. Selfishness is stronger than love in any and every way if a hint of fairness and integrity are added to it. Humans are not able to love one another, it's delusion at best. I always ask romantic couples why do they love their partner, they almost never know why. I personally believe that if love was real in humans, it should be a conscious decision, not an instinct because lust is instinct. Lust is selfishness, while love is selflessness. So many people delude themselves into thinking that they're in love with someone, when in reality, they're attracted to something that person has, physical or non-physical material. Logic is also more powerful than romantic love, which shatters the maze that countless get lost in. Though life is no straight path, logic and selfishness make life great if used wisely. Selflessness isn't foolish in and of itself, most use it incorrectly. No matter what, selfishness and logic are some of my strongest powers. These two strengths will get me farther in life than most who have a romantic partner, especially in freedom. There is no freedom in love, going rogue is the only option. I'm proud to be a maverick as I improve my own power and avoid seeking help from humans, face to face, as much as possible. I am stronger than romantic love, because, once again, I stay true to myself. Staying true to myself is the sword I use to cut down delusion and defend myself against other lies. No human on Earth is my ally nor my enemy, I'm someone who lives for fun and not for a purpose like a soldier. Life isn't meaningful nor meaningless, we give it meaning, though I find most of life to be worthless. My life, devoid of romantic love, will keep pressing on the more I dive into freedom and the blissful depths of wise selfishness. As such, I will keep fighting onward against my enemies, romantic love and other frauds like it.
Mother,
I used to walk in dark places and know that I was safe.
Because I knew that I loved you.
Mother,
I have abused my brothers and sisters.
I have contaminated your purity with murder.
I have raped your daughters.
I have kidnapped your children.
I have brought your blessed bosom to the brink of destruction.
And now, even when I walk in daylight I do not feel safe.
For now I am aware of what I have been to you.
Worse than a prodigal, I have endeavored to exploit the very mother who nurtures me.
And now that I have worsened whatever imbalance was in you before I arrived,
I endeavor to flee you like a coward through the grace of an oblivious savior.
Mother,
I have dreamed a dream of water.
I have dreamed a dream of living water.
And in this dream Jesus, my Savior, told me that he was not oblivious.
And in this dream Jesus told me that he was fully aware of my crimes against you.
Mother,
I have dreamed a dream of fire.
I have dreamed a dream of unquenchable fire.
And in this dream Jesus reminded me that I was sent here to heal you as you taught me of manhood.
And in this dream Jesus told me that if I could not love you, my mother, who I could see, then how could I love my Father in heaven who I could not.
Mother,
I have dreamed a dream of air.
I have dreamed a dream of whirlwinds.
And in this dream I breathed in the breath of forgiveness and I realized that it was not too late for us.
Mother,
I have dreamed a dream of earth.
And in this dream, Mother Earth, I see you and us together, fighting for our freedom.
Fighting against the delusion that our fates are not eternally intertwined.
Mother earth,
Please forgive us.
For true, we have betrayed you.
But it is not too late.
Mother,
I promise you that as sure as my savior is in heaven we are going to make it.
Mother,
I present myself to you as a living witness.
The Lord has not forsaken us.
For within our DNA is the secret to your healing and the end of our insanity.
Mother,
Thank you for loving and protecting me, even as I raped and wounded you.
And now it is my turn.
“In the name of Jesus, the earth and all of the earth’s inhabitants are one mind, heart, and body. In the name of Jesus, we are one person, one planet, and one purpose. In the name of Jesus, the lion will soon lay down with the lamb and this beautiful sound, this sound of the sacred Gaia will know harmony!!”
Oddra was a little birdie who was locked in her gold guilt cage.
On the eve of her destruction she was too quick in throwing down her page.
Serendipity had led her to the most wonderful birdie carnival in town.
Little then, did any know, that soon would come WWE, Smack Down.
She spread her wings and danced and sang and flitted all about.
The she started out and shared a bit….OK…she shared a lot!
She was in her groove! Or At least that’s what she thought.
This is when the lines got crossed, causing the great confusion.
That escalated to pointing fingers blame and accusation of delusion.
Unfortunately, her listening was selective. So this is all she heard,
whispers, “What kind of bird is that, a loon, a coo-coo bird?”
“She looks a little parroty to me”. Writing on the wall read, “sitting duck”
Unwittingly she’d stepped on toes, as misconceptions flowed both ways.
She had no idea that some had known her from before, in better days.
She did not hear nor see them. Did not hear them rapping at her door.
The kept reaching out a hand to say hello. She appeared to just ignore.
Who’d be talking to her there? She’d never been there before.
She completely missed her half of her poor friend’s ironic one way conversation.
She shared again, totally unrelated, that fit in perfect context as brutal provocation.
After this, the demarcation line of friend and foe becomes a little blurry.
Each perceived the others actions as offensive resulting in actions of fury.
Hold a pen in front of you, from end to end, creates a line.
But hold looking down its barrel and it’s circular in design.
Both are true, and also both are lies. In the end they’re both the same.
Is an Oddra not an Oddra even with a different name?
Here’s my stamp, Divine Design; classic, tragedy and comedy. That was the only
mask.
Oddra, cursed the circled ones. The lines, drawn in the sand, doomed her as their
task.
The lines devised a brilliant plan: having placed some peas around a hole they’d
made in some ice,
“Apocapus”, as she’d been dubbed, “She has to pee sometime, When she comes up
to take a pea
we’ll kick her in the ice hole.”
There it is my friends. Oddra was Slammed dunked!!
This is just tale. I to this I will fully digress, I am a very Odd Duck!!!
There were those too, caught in the middle, undeserved bad luck!!
Form:
one day
it will tell you from page to page
lose no mater how cool play
Kung fu loose
Kug fu loose
but cut it loose
This pace is just holding me down
not knowing how many blocks or miles, when everything is going to hell,
And I’m going down
Ill get out of this trap
I’ll write a book plant the seed to think before you act
and in this book
we’ll make it right
it will give you direction in your life
what to do
you’ll lose
it will guide you from room to room
to leave your house
and as you carry this book with you
Even if it comes as a bit of a challenge I will make it through
born to please
why you asking where ive been?
win this fight
turn right
And I know you never lied
I want to live a good life
Guess what its like!
plant the seed to think you’re beautiful
you can play by all the rules
turn me loose
the book wont let you pass life by
or vice versa
hurry
You will see what you’re doing to me
Not believing me
And I will know about your suspicious minds
Such suspicious minds
Cmon cmon lets go
of riddle upon riddle
stop and say hello
Hollow
to make it right
of mysteries you’re solving along your way
gotta do it my way
or no way at all
seven ancient wisdoms and secrets
you know what makes this what you want
that tell you turn left to find shelter
to get here
As long as I know how to love
All my life to give
to get high
such tears you’ve cried
suspicions
on a suspicious mind
Such suspicious minds
go forward for change
live al little dangerous
and turn back for protection to discover truth in the delusion of safety
Six Tomorrows starts today
that makes us come together again
One-day ill write that book
even on my knees
to make the right to get here
you will be afraid to be seen reading in the streets
telling you which way to walk in the beat box
to see me throw the kill switch
I know you love me soo bad
tomorrow starts today and everything changes
what page to read in what order
as ever page is a poem of puzzles and riddles of a fairytale disorder
to rage against
where everyone has the feeling everything is going to hell
brainwash and manipulated belief of dreams and nightmare cults and treason
shooting the five messengers
but you will lose
you’ll lose
to me
get off your knees
I had an epiphany today
The first one in a long time
Such an interesting organ the brain
So many studies
Yet no one knows how consciousness really works
And if it even abides in the brain at all
My brain has been broken
And I alone am the only one who can fix it
Broken people
Not having it all together people
Don't always realize this
Or they have traveled so far down the rabbit hole
They no longer want to
Which leads me to my epiphany
Not only is my reality not yours
It does not need to be
I cannot describe the pureness I felt in that moment
The freedom
I started to cry
It wasn't until the moment I felt those chains slip free
Did I realize they were encasing me
I had been a prisoner in my own mind
Trying to be what everyone else wanted me to be
Never realizing my own voice have been turned on mute
Suddenly the beauty that I had been blind to for weeks months years
Surrounded me
Colors bombarded my eyes even as tears flowed out of them
And the birds... ah yes the birds
They have come to represent an evil few have ever known
I think I might remember what a dove used to sound like
But the song that reaches my ears no longer bares any resemblance
To the song that reaches yours
But as of this moment I am OK with that
Because this is the life I live now
I did not choose it
It was forced upon me
My faceless enemies
These monsters had their fun
But they did not win
Because I live every moment of my life
I have never allowed it to just pass me by
And though I have not chosen the path I was forced to take
It has been my choice to rise above
With strength, integrity and empathy
Always empathy
And though I have not one bit of knowledge on how to conquer the unknown
My story will be written
So that the forgotten will know they are not alone
I will shout it from the mountains high
And though I know many will not believe
I just need enough to realize the truth
Because while I was in the vipers pit everywhere I turned
Complete darkness
I know that so much was a delusion
Yet I also know that enough of it was irrefutably true
To let me know that it was real
It only takes a spark
And although it goes against my very compassionate nature
I want to burn these Mother F***ers to the ground
09/31/2019 Rock Bottom Pick a Line any Line Poetry Contest Sponsored by Richard Lamoureux
The proverbial victim immortalized forever
Seeing Prince Charming when you gazed into his eyes, but, beyond your
delusion stood Satan himself fantasizing about how he was to devour your flesh.
Sibyl's true love for Dorian did not see deceit's nasty warnings.
Narcissistic Dorian could not be abated.
The torment of others didn't reach his conscience.
He craved only masturbation material for his wicked ego.
His evil heart overpowered all.
His sinister desires are all that ruminated through his diabolical mind
Loving Dorian only left Sibyl starving.
His heart was not capable of returning the undying devotion she felt for him.
He was no man.
Only a hollow shell, pretending to feel love while concealing his laughter for his
unsuspecting prey.
Loving Dorian only killed you.
He compromised your integrity
Stole your innocence
Taking from you what you could never retrieve
Just because he could
But, don't worry your pretty little head, Sibyl.
You will never be forgotten.
Especially by Sir Dorian Gray
Though I imagine that he would give anything to have a moment of peace from
the horrifying images of your tragic ending, for all eternity his thoughts will be
haunted by images of your ruby red blood, desperate cries and the contortion of
your dying body.
Sometimes he will think it is just a nightmare, but this is something from which
he will never wake.
He will pray for an ending to his torment, but his wish will never be granted.
Though ultimately Sibyl, you took your own life there is blood dripping from
Dorian's claws.
Evil must be punished like everyone else and that is the embodiment of Dorian
Gray's icy heart.
Now Dorian must cloak his own sins.
His evil soul destroyed himself and all those who had the misfortune to love him.
Though he salivated at the thought of his next conquest, time and time again,
Dorian's self hatred and inner demons engulfed him until he plunged into his
darkened abyss from which he will never escape.
His most unfortunate transgression of all was choosing to live a superficial
existence, choosing eternal youth and beauty over true love.
Sybil Vane was the only woman whose love was pure enough to rescue him.
Dorian will forever be tormented knowing that he obliterated his guardian angel,
the only one that could have saved him - from himself.
Endurance is not of your nature,
Solidity glides in wavering motions upon my pitiful neck,
Now brazen silver does linger,
Trite lance, ravenous knife does make one last,
Sorrowful trek...
I know you'll adore each compassioned endeavor,
And your canvas lay pared, splayed and sculpted tissue.
You've rendered such precious jet-black clouds...
They drape their vile vined misted shrouds...
Within my gray eyed gaze,
Such hues temper your violent palette...
Vanished breath-flickered candle haze.
Lifeless wick, gurgling crimson wax.
Your beloved paint trickles in balmy clotted puddles,
I shudder adorned in radiant rubies rolling from my fingertips,
I feel your veteran-mastered art pouring from my throat...
Am I not your first? What imaginative vision you possess!
For it is not to say mine is fading, fleeting plasma afloat.
They told me of your gift,
How endowed you are,
Able to plunge, plunge, plunge,
Your hands into the crevices of torment,
In your swayed, celestial delusion,
You heaven's exile, wicked-bound and hell sent.
Engraved in lifeless form ascending from tip to hilt,
Still I lie mesmerized by the atrocity,
Of apathy jaundiced guilt.
Predator, what is your name?
May I slip your ill-willed syllables from my lips,
for you have brought my tamed veins shame.
I value your corrupt knowledge found pledge,
As you mar my shivering body to your own image,
Ingenuity, you said was the plight laid upon razor's edge.
Poetic justice you explained was reason to heal,
Mankind in his errors,
Of humanity's devil-signed, soul-phantom deal.
If I could speak I'd ask for the pen,
Should I sign in ink? Skin pricked red-wine?
Rolled parchment, contract or covenant?
Sign here along the dotted line?
I lift the golden-feathered needle,
And pierce, finger signature in place,
Advocate of Satan take my soul,
Where we are then,
Vaccuum-voided into fiery space.
I look back up at you with word choked reply,
Sputtering the eruptive branch volcano,
You snicker an exaggerated pain cry,
You tell me my soul's been granted,
I was never given choice,
You said, "You gave that up when I slit,
Your moral stained choral-voice...."
How I regret your wicked lures...
Your profound and deafening words,
The afterlife has no meaning,
Only death does gleam,
On Steel Sharpened Spurs...
Form:
The Philosopher is a single long poem, I apologize for the inconvenience of splitting it
into 2 parts.
He pushes aside the weathered curtain
The colourless tub, the bland tiles, his grey glazed sight
He looks over his shoulder and invites her into his mental fortress
The King philosopher’s decreed writer
Her sole existence is to write his thoughts and greatness as the ideas arise from the
ashes in
the furnace of his mind
Invisible revolutionary phoenixes, a wonder never seen
The writer is a woman, beautiful, his fantasies rule with an iron hammer
He feels nothing for the imaginary woman
His dreams told of respect, of falling in love in its truest form:
The caesarean of his mind, and she would fall in love with the thought burning society
within
So she sat there, somewhere, laptop in hand
The philosopher closes the curtain, undresses, the water is warm
It caresses him like no lover ever has
Unlocks the rusting, fading Iron Gate within, this water that stirs the slumbering giant
within
his flesh
He closes his fragmented eyes
The distorted images disappear and his mind kisses his wounds better
He sighs
In his mind she waits behind the curtain, it must be awkward
He does not smile, but his lips part, and he sighs the heat away
The water cools
The philosopher sits
The small tub is a tight fit, he looks down
The flaws of man so bare before him
He sees them in many a light, riddled with the protruding edges of perception
He tucks his fragmented eyes away
The philosopher looks down on the folds of his flesh again
The hair, the child of nature and god, an unholy affair
His hand runs over his thigh, the meaningless hair, the soft fat
His fragmented eyes see the flaws of society
A misguided shamble of enterprises, the idea of destiny a delusion
His misty eyes see a cripple
He dictates his poem
She writes
He looks up at the curtain, the veil separating him from humility
And he sees its transparency
He sees the inadequacy of definition, of documenting his emotion and the ideas of his
furnace
He realizes the chaos of his being
He looks down again
He sees a handsome man
Thin, fit, comfortable sitting in the tub
Society in acceptance of itself and the reality of its situation, a philosophical utopia
And behind that lie, he still sees a cripple
© Samir Georges 2009
Caught in the snares of a night divided between the sacred and the profane,
where the stars seem to whisper forgotten secrets, I find myself in search of truth,
on a journey that parts the veil of self-knowledge,
where every tear of light, every shadow
reveals fragments of an esoteric existence, woven from fragile hopes and deep doubts.
Religion, like Freud, bears the burden of a difficult mission,
like a torch that illuminates the abyss of our fear of self-awareness,
for self-knowledge is man's hardest task,
a risk of revealing how his self-esteem was built
on the power of others, in an effort to deny his own creatureliness and mortality.
Character is the vital lie, a veil that conceals
the painful ambiguities of our likeness to worms,
as well as the divinity incarnate in our being,
and people deny both their creatureliness and their divinity,
to live peacefully in the world, fattened by illusion and comfort.
My stream of thoughts flows like an underground river,
where every idea is a wave that digs deep into the banks of consciousness,
and I get lost in the labyrinth of questions, where every answer
is a riddle that exposes how fragile man is,
a creature warring with its own destiny, rejecting the truth
of creatures and gods in the vast dispersion of existence.
On the land of this night, where moonlight filters through leaves
like an elixir of delusion, I find myself seeking meaning
in a world that will dissolve into its own paradoxes,
in a perpetual struggle between denying fragility and desiring transcendence,
a battle between dualities, where each victory brings a new burden,
and in every defeat, a growth.
This painful ambiguity is man's path,
a road paved with shattered dreams and divine aspirations,
where every step is a tribute paid to the illusion
of being more than a mere creature,
and less than an omnipotent god,
watch as every breath is an ephemeral dance
between the fear of the unknown and the desire to soar.
In a world abandoned by certainties,
where truths are but rejected shadows,
I begin to understand that our only refuge
is to embrace complexity,
to accept ourselves as both trivial and divine
walking on the edge of eternity, where illusion becomes the safety net
in a vile universe, full of fallen stars and dreams lost in the silence of the night.