Long Disguises Poems
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In the twilight of existence, where shadows whisper secrets to the restless soul,
Man seeks to escape himself in myth, weaving tales to hide his truth,
By any means at his disposal, he dances on the edge of oblivion,
Drugs, alcohol, or lies, each a mask to hide the fragile self within.
Unable to withdraw into the depths of his being, he disguises himself,
Crafting stories and illusions, each a fleeting sanctuary from the storm,
Lies and inaccuracies, like gentle lullabies, give him a few moments of comfort,
In the flux of consciousness, where thoughts flow and ebb like an eternal tide.
In this river of dreams, I see him, a wanderer lost in the labyrinth of his own mind,
Seeking solace in the myths he creates, a painter of unseen realities,
His heart, a canvas of longing, each stroke a metaphor for escape,
And I, a silent observer, am drawn into the melancholic magic of his journey.
He walks through the corridors of memory, each step a whisper of forgotten hopes,
The shadows of his past intertwine with the light of his aspirations,
In the depths of his despair, he finds an appearance of peace,
A fleeting mirage in the desert of his existence, where lies and truth converge.
In the darkened corners of his mind, the myths take on a life of their own,
Each a beacon of false hope, a star in the night of his solitude,
He clings to them, these fragile constructs, like a sailor to a sinking ship,
In the endless sea of his thoughts, where reality and illusion blend.
Through the haze of his deceptions, a fleeting clarity emerges,
A moment of truth, like a fleeting comet in the vastness of his mind,
He sees himself, unmasked and raw, a soul stripped of disguises,
And in that moment, the melancholic magic of existence reveals its true face.
But the moment passes, as all moments do, and he returns to his myths,
Comforted by the lies that shield him from the harsh light of reality,
In the flux of consciousness, where each thought is a wave in an endless ocean,
He finds solace, peace, in the myths that allow him to escape himself.
And so, in the twilight of existence, where shadows and light intertwine,
Man continues his dance, a seeker of myths, a creator of illusions,
In the melancholic magic of his journey, he finds the strength to endure,
A wanderer in the labyrinth of his own mind, forever searching for the elusive truth.
Every time you walk into my space,
Everything that’s real about me,
Gets erased.
Somehow, it always ends up
My mistake—
Comatose I am,
to my own fate.
I have decades, years
Not knowing how--
Can I fix this ever,
If not now?
Every step closer, you’re closing in on me,
You say cruel things
And then say you’re “helping me”
There’s always Doubt— anxiety needs approval:
I’m still inside this hole and
You won’t hasten my removal.
Will you leave me stuck here?
I bend and bow, and
Bow and bend then try again, somehow-
try once more, again, to get “me” back on track,
Sometimes it feels like “me” is
Never coming back.
Broken me feels lost and helpless,
Ripped with pain,
Broken is still broken,
No matter who’s to blame.
You become a non-person
It happens slow—
you don’t deserve to be respected, didn’t you know?
Everything you say is questioned, your life is made a lie--
You broke their hearts, you nasty person, just lay down and die!
Suffering’s hard, and so is pain,
But there’s no one here to stop me, except me, and its become a game...
Of keeping tabs and hoping you’ll never see how broken I've become-
Yet your words against me are only lies, one day the curse will be undone.
One day, you’ll get a glimpse of your iceberg cold
Heart
The Deja vu police’ll
Catch up to you when speeding on a lark,
And ticket you for lying to GD, pretending--
You were only playing Peacemaker,
Your devotion neverending…..
Oh the Horror of admitting
You were in fact, Ego-sitting!
Then it will be plain,
It was YOU who commanded me to wear the Scarlet
Letter,
Not because I sinned, but because you needed to be
“Better”.
But until then, ‘dear’ Christian(s)
Who committed me to this
Hole,
You currently offer generous condolences to
Yourself, not me, the
“Infidel”…
Parading your mirrored mask,
Your friendly smile--now its on, now its off-- just like a faucet
While behind closed doors you
Spread derogatory gossip—
And there can only be an ugly end to this
Charitable epistle,
I wash my hands of them, and wait for their delusionary lies’ dismissal.
Those who stake their lives on
Crying Wolf may
Seem to have the upper hand,
yet Gd sees through their fake disguises--
and always remains in command.
Patiently waiting
with unseen surprises,
Blatantly ripping off
Their dark, dirty
disguises.
I hear their idle chatter and wish that sound was optional.
A box checked in a menu, a simple click and forget.
The rapid dilation of my pupils brings me back.
Back to hypnotic aisles of temptation and necessity. A selection of the finest they say.
Right there see, on the cardboard, next to charts and columns of calories and strange
numbers I’d sooner forget.
But buy one get one free still gets me every time.
I stare intently at the dancing numbers until the man with the tie moves away.
Glossy pages shine brighter than the fruit racks they mirror,
Competing for importance in my wallet and my life
The magpie wins and the bananas will wait.
Half the magazines hawk five a day in rounded sans serif, bold against the background of a
chef’s haircut.
Maxims of bizarre cosmopolitan playboys and hustlers marked up at 3.99. Landscapes of
polished flesh glow beneath the loving airbrush of the paycheck. Competing for nuts at the
zoo.
A vanity fair for the hollow, shining in the fading light of a red top sunset.
Paraphrased blogs and condensed morsels of crude celebrity nudes for the I-Generation and
the remnants of New Labour and Thatcher’s Britain.
Anglers, caravans and 50 cent, half the demographic, half the price. Count me out.
I finger a few and find no real desire. The Internet offers this bilge up for free.
They’d all be nude and crapping on each other.
The great silicon toilet of humanity
Past freezers of long dead prisoners, pulped to perfection. Pigs in tubes and flat cow
concoctions.
Pancakes of vomit and fish dishes I won’t ever try. No time for it.
Frankenstein's monster behind glass slides.
Packets of sugar in various disguises. Cereal and chocolate, soft drinks and sauce dips.
Lattes and ladles, loofahs and loaves. The prattle returns through the shelving
I turn around the curries and there is the tie. Talking sport and hard drinking, women and
the weather. Looks me in the eye.
I turn before any interaction and feign interest in something, a scouring pad. Intricately
woven metal coils waste major concentration and he’s gone. Box checked, minimize and move on.
Everything shines in this weird three-quarter light, hypnotic. Confusing. Conscious of the
bottles ahead that I can’t ever touch. Seedy and appealing, puerile and appalling.
Something for everyone.
And nothing for me.
Away...
Spot her from far.
Have a tingle mingle all over your skin.
Award your forehead a scratch
As you do the arduous estimations
Of the remaining catwalk steps
Before her beauty kisses your eyes.
Let sanity flee from your mind.
(That's OK.Never mind.
Angels are never meant
For sane minds)
Coming your way...
Prepare to talk to her
Practise how to greet her
Whisper to yourself a greeting
Whose sweetness tricks
Your zygomaticus muscle
Into a seductive smile.
Then bite your lower lip alluringly
As the best Romeo and Juliet scene
Overwhelms the whole of you.
Enjoy the roller-coaster feeling
Of a heart that forgets its own rhythm.
A few minutes away...
To get on top of your muddled up feelings
And wake up the confidence demon
Wave your head in a 'NO' manner.
Grab a gorgeous gazale gaze of her.
Don't allow the jealous of a blink
To spoil this monumental moment.
Sink your nervousness deep
Inside the well of sighs.
Cast a blind eye on the people's eyes
Or acknowledge them as your cheerleaders.
It's about time...
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Elevate your hands like a clergyman in prayer
Just to inspect the odour of your exhaled air
That will transport your practiced greeting.
Regulate your lungs to spray your Rose
With nothing but the fragrance of roses.
It's time now...
Exactly when she gets near
Cockily say, 'Good morning, Madam.'
Immediately after the words slip
Away from the tip of your lip,
Remember that, 'Afternoon'
Is almost embarking on her sleep
And that the Madam title is ...
Cover your mouth instantly
As if trying to capture back the awakward greeting
Fancy the way she disguises
Her guffaws as a smile-
Revealing her pretty dimples
Concealed in the soft flesh of her cheeks
Almost...
Observe her as she catwalks it away
Leaving you dumbstricken all the way
Listen until her footsteps die away
Start scratching your backhead right away
Wondering which spell she used
To transmute your 'Hey Pretty Lady'
Into a 'Good morning, Madam'
During such perceivable old noon hours!
Blame yourself the whole day.
Tighten your fist like Muhammad Ali
Preparing to release his Sunday punch.
Then with a suppressed sigh sadly say:
TOMORROW will be a better day!
Tomorrow...
Worries…pain…emotional strain…
Thought I would succeed but have nothing to gain
Feeling so alone, facing the world on my own
Everything is all wrong when you’re...f u l l g r o w n…
My childhood passes me by…
…I rely…on skipping life and going right back in time
‘Cause time flies…
And blue skies are just God’s eyes in disguise…
I can’t live…in a world built on fictional lies!
Love’s tied…into trust...if only I can give it all up
But these heavy burdens tend to way me down..
And so I sit here...trembling in fear..
Afraid of what the world has next to come for me
Lying in agony, a burst of anger rises...
Because of this deceitful world,
Not even terrorism come as surprises..
Racial slurs, and political disguises..
Let me tell you lies come in all colors, shapes and sizes...
It’s a shame how we let the world defeat us with deceit but
We’ll never know it’s happening…
Because that’s what were lacking in,
And that’s what they’re attacking…
They’re attacking our minds
If you haven’t noticed yet but these are the times
Not the times that we wished for
But the times of war, times for you to be hardcore…
Not in the world, but with Lord and nothing more
Why is our vision impaired…but it seems that no one really cares??
He said we got the VICTORY, but no one is claiming it’s theirs
We need to rekindle that fire, only God will take us higher
Yea I may be preacher to the choir
But look our lives are hanging by a wire
Our lives are hanging by a limb…
It’s only His desire, for us to go preach the gospel
When the day comes, he’ll look at us and admire
But as for now, God is uninspired…
By our actions by far, instead of asking Him,
We’re wishing on a star, which totally bizarre
Because we are a peculiar people,
Can we say “pageantry”??
This form of fashion is not who we are…
Let’s go back to those days where church was about getting saved,
Not played, or tricked into someone else get paid,
It’s been like that for decades but some how it started to fade
Don’t you feel like God is been betrayed??
Although he forgives us for the mistakes we’ve made, we turn around
And seek man to come to aide, when God is our healer
Emotionally, physically, and spiritually saves
And He himself said, that we we’re fearfully and wonderfully made…
Maidens often tells me she love me,
But can that truly be?
One who does not to me respect show,
But always my ideas she akimbo.
I asked my duplicate,
Whether it's a thing of my fate.
"Can someone who loves you,
Show no respect to your rule?
Can one who loves you,
View you in your seriousness as fool?
Can one who bear your affection,
Often cause you variant infections.
If truly she loves; I qoute,
Then,does she always me wrong qoute?
When my abilities toss me to speak,
Then will her mockery raise to it's peak.
She'll often mock my ingenuity,
Which pierce into my versatality.
Does she really love?
Tell me,or does she want me like a whot
shove?
'Cos by all my intuity,
I can't trace the particles of love's
conformity.
Let say she disguises,
Must she take it too far to this phases?
My quest for her personality,
Is now melting down like a scorched lead.
Tell me,does she really loves me,
Or only enjoy my spirituality?
Tell me,Tell,Tell me
Tell me, Tell, Tell me
Tell me, Tell, Tell me
For i'm pressed and squeezed like a bill.
Does she feel so pompous,
That made her conceive that i wroth her
purse?
Does her beauty stir her so hardly,
That her aroma disguist my belly.
One who i bare sickness with,
One who i share illness with.
One who my heart travels to greet,
Every hour while on thought's street.
One who i persuade 'I AM' for,
Don't even care if i fall.
Should i believe them,
Or pluck my garment at its hem?
Cos my rein did wept,
And my affection forever crept.
In search of an abode,
That will be to her a Lord.
Should i say she's by jealousy toss?
Or methink her that i her friend toast*?
Tell me,Tell,Unveil to me,
For this no more a secret.
I made 'I AM' so compassionate,
To make her edified in faith.
My intestine fought with my worms,
For the course of this maiden's norms.
But here is the tragedy,
Nay,should i say Blessing?
For this maiden of which my mouth is fixed
on,
Is the bone of bone of which i'm loan.
This stamped me on the fence,
With no idea whether to stay or hence.
For yet my shout and screams,
And affection for her is still like the tree.
But here i don't know if she truly loves,
Or if she wants to give me to the fox.
So they call me sister
Um hum, they think they know my name
I think I got him now check the game
What’s up baby?
How you doing?
What’s your name?
They call me Exotica cause I roll with a lot of `em
What you know `bout that?
Oh no I don’t need no ride
What about you, hop in mine
I’m so fine baby no he rolling with a dime
You don’t have to call me later lets do this now
No sense procrastinating
I know how you get down
You want my body over my mind
We don’t need to talk intellectually
Everything we do is sexually
Oh sure you can call me tomorrow
And we’ll do it all over
This time I might invite a friend
A ménage à trois
Not just me and you no mo’
You think I’m great
This friend will never let you escape
She’ll be on your mind all the time
She will make you scream
Having pleasure like in a 14 year old boys dream
We’ll even go to the club with you
Help you size up your next victim
They’ll never know where together
Our disguises are very cleaver
We go incognito every time we roll
We’ll be a part of you forever
`til death
do us part
We can travel the world together
Leaving our mark
Making people blind with out inseparable love
Making couples break up
Because
They hate
that we gave them a taste of our
night long lasting burning passion
Some people’s skin will itch
Others will get a tingle
When we welcome them to our circle of forever
Now that we are all acquainted and I’ve found a new home
You don’t have to call me Exotica now that I gotcha
More appropriately
YOU GOT ME
Let me share with you my other names
These are what others have called me
In my previous games
Syphilis
Chlamydia
Gonorrhea
Herpes Simplex 2
AIDS
All STD
And don’t forget to tell your friends about me
They can get me too I’m very contagious
And I don’t discriminate
I take `em 16
25
40
Even not yet born
I run like a river through your blood stream
I make you ache wishing you’d never crossed my path
I sometimes laugh
At people who think they can escape
Because they really don’t want to
If they did they’d pay better attention and break the chain
By communicating with others
How they have suffered
From my wrath
I am STD the sexually transmitted disease
A Life Unrepressed
Lighting surges through a war of
disrespectful words, tears
descending, wet. In times of
uncertainty, an unknown sadness
is out of control, a smile, a gesture;
or fear clings to a receptive body.
Words may not bring rest or smiles,
the soul deep within knows.
There is no one that can unlock the
heart, nothing that can be said or felt.
Thoughts, do not reveal or conceal,
disguise the lack of sympathy, place
blame and criticize. Alienate the
voice, if only for one moment feel free.
Fate, possession, strife, and life.
The genuine self, forced to obey,
despite and un-regarded life blind
to the hurt of others will embed hate
eternally. The knowledge of life fire
and force, walking down a rough path;
deep pain. No spirit, hate has the
power to control, nameless feelings
that have conceded to a life unrepressed.
Speak and act so no one will know
hidden damage floating down to the
soul. The hidden self, inward strife and
following demands; in return, a thousand
nothings, all-miraculously give power.
Hide in the depths of the soul; echo
speaks of pain. Lackluster eyes stare,
glare, and the words unspoken deafening
creating fear.
A bolt of tones, frightening, is piercing
ears. No feeling stirs, the heart laid plain,
unaware of a life winding down, no
meadows of flowers, no sun, no breeze,
and the madness is elusive to all. No
feeling, no respite. In quietness, the war
of mocking words; the tears, the sadness.
The thoughts of the sea, the crashing
waves; soul and spirit sinking within its
wet madness and always stay, stay, and
stay.
Too late, love revealed itself in death,
and the heart has nothing to say. Living
and moving in disguises, alien, until the
end. Life had nothing to possess, strife,
identity. Blind, uncertainty, life no fire or
restlessness, a thirst for the mystery of it
all, nameless feelings lived in vain. The l
oss, the heart lay open for all to see, the
hurt hidden twisted among the rubble of
pain. Yet, after all that, there is tomorrow.
©2021.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree
A desperate housewife I knew
had such mundane housework to do.
Being so tired of it,
she decided to quit.
Then off to Las Vegas she flew.
Having always been such a lithe girl,
she thought “I’ll give dancing a whirl!”
Her audition went well.
From a large oyster shell
She emerged, so they all dubbed her Pearl.
Her skin, soft and fair, shone like dew
as she smiled with eyes crystal blue.
All the men threw her money
as her voice, sweet as honey,
called out, “Let me entertain you!”
As Pearl danced each night, looking pretty,
Her husband, back in her home city,
was fit to be tied,
thinking maybe she’d died!
Poor fool didn’t have a clue, did he!
Unbeknownst to sweet Pearl, her “dear” spouse
had been sneaking off as she’d played house.
To conventions he’d said
he was going. Instead,
he’d been gambling in Vegas, that louse!
Off to strip clubs he’d gone every chance
that he got. How he loved to see dance
naked women all sizes
in sexy disguises
while his wife at home longed for romance.
Now the tables were very much turned.
And her husband was feeling quite spurned.
He would sleep restlessly
thinking where could she be!!
But her whereabouts he never learned.
No longer could he run away
on a whim. He still had bills to pay.
That cleaning and cooking
meant no time for looking
at girls! He had less time to play.
In Vegas, his wife had come far.
In fact, she was a superstar.
Wearing naught but a fan,
she’d entice every man,
then drive home in a pearl-colored car!
Her spouse lost his job. The years fled.
His wife he then had declared dead.
But with no job in sight,
he’d stay home each night,
with loneliness causing him dread.
Do you think this guy ever has let
his conscience feel any regret
that his wife did so much
while he gambled and such?
Has he learned anything at all yet?
Did he marry and get a new bride?
Did Pearl go and change her sweet ride
to a sleek red Corvette,
and did SHE marry yet?
I leave it to YOU to decide!
Written June 2016 for the Desperate Housewife Contest of PD
May 2 Faith in God Bible Meditations Based on 1Chronicles
Key Verse – 1Chronicles 6:32 And they ministered before the dwelling place of the tabernacle of the congregation with singing, until Solomon had built the house of the LORD in Jerusalem: and then they waited on their office according to their order.
FAITH IN GOD WHO ENABLES US
TO MINISTER IN HIS HOUSE
God enables us to minister in His house by His graciousness
Indeed, rearing us up with His righteousness
While forgiving our confessed sinfulness
Along His mercy, driving our faith toward walk of holiness.
God enables us to minister in His house by His truth-lesson
Indeed, humbling us down through His wise reason
While inspiring our hearts with His very person
Along His Word, freeing our faith from doubt’s prison.
God enables us to minister in His house by His supreme reign
Indeed, purging us by His sanctification against error stain
While filling our satisfaction with His love that does not drain
Along His might, moving our faith toward service-terrain.
God enables us to minister in His house by His deliverance
Indeed, conquering us from unbelief with His assurance
While pushing our commitment toward sincere endurance
Along His power, propelling our faith for His kingdom’s furtherance.
God enables us to minister in His house by His encouragement
Indeed, teaching us through His life-building commandment
While illumining our vision with His enlightenment
Along His counsel, leading our faith for great achievement.
God enables us to minister in His house by His authority
Indeed, governing us against disguises of vanity
While checking our motives from selfishness’ futility
Along His help, letting our faith abide in His certainty.
God enables us to minister in His house by His direction
Indeed, guiding us through His instruction
While upholding our decision for stewardship maximization
Along His strength, bringing our faith toward ministry-optimization.
May 2, 2025