Long Dissimulation Poems
Long Dissimulation Poems. Below are the most popular long Dissimulation by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dissimulation poems by poem length and keyword.
Plague of lies,
froggy croaks untrue
Swarm of flies
surround Capitol dungHills
Infectious hope buzz kill:
Leftover piles of shill legislative bills
that don’t do do right
There should be no nose mystery,
stink of deceit fills the land
Brown lip locust wings
avarice ride
on a grifter breeze
Devouring all of the green
Dissimulation policies of greed
be blowing
turd raspberries
in the wind
This puff pestilence is putrid exhalation X brand
There should be no Pinocchio mystery,
rotten Would of falsehood
burns lung pollute-y
Foul breath forestry smokescreen fills the land
Cursed sour ground sound
is coming in waves
Flood of maggot noise abound
Blanket of little white **** snow job
is toilet tissue swirling around
Coming down royal flush
depressingly hard
Pain threshold too low to withstand
There should nascent be ... nay, no nasal mystery —
Veracity murrain miry
is the excrement sand which fills the land
Hazardous Waste tax material
has been poll sewage,
cesspool sinking below
the average Joe Citizen cranial
Yes Land filled with lies,
do do have a most wretched smell
But[t] toadies ain’t pocket sorry enough
about how honesty died
Croc ballot tears, every four years, don’t vote eulogize
Yes minions
got such lice, dysentery lips
Their squirmy truth
is always diarrhea leaping DeLorean
Back to the feces Future
To a broken promise Land filled
with dumpster dregs
of nothing
but[t] frog skeletons
Amphibian vow voices croaking
those empty chest organs
Howl flickering full be their guts rotting!
Lying shamelessly on hallow divided ground,
naked telly truth
went into tooth decay hiding
Bellyaching dirt went spit turd belly up
As dem/‘publican Kermits would
Jiminy cricket say: “Dey(light) don’t need no
dark stinking proof”
Those midnight jumpers
love spit mooning tongue sticky shade
un’er a halitosis roof
In a land filled with rank vapors insincere,
ain’t no pig manure methane doubt,
you’ll be pathologically told:
Smoggy talk got put on hold,
while the contagious shouts thin out ...
Rows of zeroes didn’t magically disappear
All by myself again; alone with my thoughts that are dancing forward and
backwards in my mind of things and events of the past-mistakes I have made;
regrets, decisions favorable; unfavorable; joys, sorrows, pains, and hurts-
wondering how my life might have been different If.......................
Oh! What futile ness in the quietness of my silence! What's the use in looking
back though? What can I change? What's done is done! And so.........
Of the wrongs, I repent; I turn; I leave it behind! I change my posture; I shake off
the shackles; I press forward to move on to the greater, the more enhanceable-
that which will lead me to a more prosperous, happier, rewarding place and
space in time--
To a life in the present that is worthwhile and fulfilling. A life of love, peace, joy
and genuine happiness. A life where every need is met in abunance with whole
baskets left over to share with others who are in need; and my desires are
granted in immeasurable quantities according to the Creator's perfect will and
purpose for my life.
The present where I am whole in spirit, mind, and body; in thought, word, and
deed; a place where all things are made to work together for my complete and
ultimate good; a place where love rules and reigns without dissimulation; a
place of no pretense, no guile, and no deceit; a place of power, of wisdom and a
sound, sober mind, uninhibited by foreign, outside agents that create a psuedo-
sense of genuine sublimity; a place of perpetual ecstacy-a life of bliss. A life of
balance. A life of truly living not just existing; not merely surviving but a life of more
than enough. A life of no lack. A life of increase spiritually, mentally, physically
and financially elevated to the maximum power of ten to the tenth power-----
Thus making my future bright, sensational, successful and dominated with and
in immeasurable blessings that make me and others around me rich, adding no
sorrow with it, for I am blessed and blessed indeed so that I might be a blessing
and a blessing indeed to others to the Glory of All Mighty God.
DEAR HEART
Dear Heart :
Majestic Heart,
Precious part of my pristine persona
in angelic arena.
You are famished hankering for love,
but you must try to curb.
With innate innocence
and earnest ebullience
You can neither differentiate
nor discriminate
between devotion
and dissimulation.
Dear Heart:
Humble Heart,
You dedicate your ardent ardour
floating in fervent fervour
cascading desired dreams
in opulent stream
to dry up in silent scream.
Dear Heart:
Delicate Heart,
Restrain yourself.
Don't allow to escape
Your yearnings to soar high
tempting for free fly
to get trapped with wounded weary wings
carrying contorted dishonored feelings.
Poor Heart:
You are hurt.
Dear Heart:
Holy Heart,
Your preserved pleasures
and reserved treasures
are destined to be left on dirt,
on path of life ending in dust.
01/30/23
Dear Heart
Eighth place
Premiere Contest by Mystic Rose Rose.
Contest by Brian Strand
...a tribute to Hermann Hesse and his novel 'Narziss Und Goldmund.'
***********
Two friends in early childhood when their lives were worry free,
each pursued his own direction to fulfill his destiny.
One was tempted by the devil to devote his life to greed,
debauchery, dissimulation, he embraced each sinful deed.
He ingratiated himself with the wealthy, bedding courtesans and Queens,
all the while maintaining strict discretion, gaining riches by deception and guile.
From palace to palace he traveled, always escaping detection,
'til he tired of all of the cheating and lies, and spent time in devoted reflection.
Much older now, his skills were not the sharpest,
no longer did he yearn for wealth and fame,
he became disconsolate, and longed for peace and solace,
a return to the village where they called him by his real name.
Meanwhile the other spent his time in isolation,
became a monk and took a vow of silence,
as part of a brotherhood he was content,
rarely, if ever, was he called upon for penance.
He left his cell each afternoon to tend the Bishop's garden,
tilling and weeding the flowers and plants,
in the evening he could be heard singing,
embroidering the hymns with soaring descants.
Asceticism is a doctrine that requires self-denial,
taken in excess it lays a burden on the soul,
a burden which in retrospect is seen as self-defeating,
what steps can be taken to ensure the soul is whole?
The two men reunited in the village where they spent
such happy times in playful animation,
examining their practices they sought an end to their excesses,
too much praying and playing required a strict examination.
In the midst of life's continuum to maintain a happy medium,
play and prayer and work and everything in equal measure,
the Greeks had a phrase for it ~ 'Nothing In Excess,'
a lifestyle we would all do well to emulate and treasure.
Copyright © 2016 Keith Bickerstaffe
Don Jose wondered why men whispered low
not knowing they discussed his daughter fair.
"I'll talk to Miguel when we get to Luis Ore, Segundo.
He can persuade his brother to make Margarita marry me. Don Miguel
and I don't like each other very much, but we do business together and
it wouldn't be good for him if he displeased me. Does he have a way to ship
hides or move cattle unless it's across my land? No Segundo, we wouldn't
allow him to do that if he's unreasonable, would we?"
El Segundo's pale thin lips parted evilly.
"No patron, I don't think we could. We might let him get his cattle a
little way on to de Plata, but whose to say what might happen then. A
sudden stampede's not too uncommon when bullets are fired. My patron,
I've seen cows go over the edge of cliffs when frightened. It'd be a
shame if Don Miguel lost cattle that way."
"What you say has some merit, amigo. It's certainly something to think
about, eh?"
Don Huerra put his arm around Segundo's skinny shoulders. In good nature
they had a laugh together.
Don Jose turned asking in surprise, "What are you laughing about, Senor Huerra?
I don't think the possibility of getting wet is humorous."
"El Segundo thinks it's a good joke on us that God makes it rain when we're
least prepared. He thinks, Excellency, he's so thin he could step between rain drops
without getting wet, so light he could walk on water. He's not worried about
muddy boots. We laugh, Excellency, because we think his self description
might be true. It would be Segundo's pleasure, Don Hernandez, for him
to bring your carriage around for your family's convenience."
Huerra's quick dissimulation came from practice; he often used a lie to
save a situation or serve a purpose. Don Huerra wasn't bothered with
conscience for he'd met that still small voice years ago and had throttled it.
...a tribute to Hermann Hesse and his novel 'Narziss Und Goldmund.'
Two friends in early childhood when their lives were worry free,
each pursued his own direction to fulfill his destiny.
One was tempted by the devil to devote his life to greed,
debauchery, dissimulation, he embraced each sinful deed.
He ingratiated himself with the wealthy, bedding courtesans and Queens,
all the while maintaining strict discretion, gaining riches by deception and guile.
From palace to palace he traveled, always escaping detection,
'til he tired of all of the cheating and lies, and spent time in devoted reflection.
Much older now, his skills were not the sharpest,
no longer did he yearn for wealth and fame,
he became disconsolate, and longed for peace and solace,
a return to the village where they called him by his real name.
Meanwhile the other spent his time in isolation,
became a monk and took a vow of silence,
as part of a brotherhood he was content,
rarely, if ever, was he called upon for penance.
He left his cell each afternoon to tend the Bishop's garden,
tilling and weeding the flowers and plants,
in the evening he could be heard singing,
embroidering the hymns with soaring descants.
Asceticism is a doctrine that requires self-denial,
taken in excess it lays a burden on the soul,
a burden which in retrospect is seen as self-defeating,
what steps can be taken to ensure the soul is whole?
The two men reunited in the village where they spent
such happy times in playful animation,
examining their practices they sought an end to their excesses,
too much praying and playing required a strict examination.
In the midst of life's continuum to maintain a happy medium,
play and prayer and work and everything in equal measure,
the Greeks had a phrase for it ~ 'Nothing In Excess,'
a phrase we would all do well to contemplate, and treasure.
Romans Chapter 12:9-10 Let love be without dissimulation. Abhor that which is evil; cleave to that which is good. 10 Be kindly affectioned one to another with brotherly love; in honour preferring one another;
Bursting into the still cool of Wednesday,
Blessing away the hours,
In silent waves of hesitating light,
Healing Tuesday with gentle music, fulfilling
Even the shadow’s worth is lifted
Rhythms of hope, poured out on the memory,
Trembling with a peace that only the sunset
Can remember…
Pride, Vanity, Narcissism
Fade like trinkets, bound for destruction,
Overcome by the seeds of your purpose,
Born to become, born to overcome,
In sighs of faith, she whispers,
Bordering the gates of forever, the hereafter,
Abiding inside the promises,
Real healing, forgiveness, love so restful,
Speaking of the moment before He revealed
The truth, He is the everlasting peace,
He is the blending of hope and grace, He is…
Everything to me!
Speaking of Jesus – Speak to Jesus
He is the reason I can sing, praise, pray
With the assurance that life has this season
For my heart and soul, so that I might know
The wonder of a love that is beyond my control,
A love that began when He arose,
Inviting each one to the life that commenced,
When He hung from that cross – saving what was lost,
Saving us all from the darkest dark – saving us all…
We were freed by His love, His light, His life –
Laid down so we could become children of God!
He is everything and more – He is the love and hope.
He is the way to change from wrong to right,
From bad to good, from dark to light, from lost to saved,
From the past to the promise – because He was raised
From the silence of a grave, to give us the joy of His grace!
Thanks to Jesus, I’m truly saved!!!!
If you are silent about your pain, they will kill you and say you enjoyed it.
In the garden of silence, where words are unblossomed flowers and sighs, invisible dew,
We grow, we trees with deep roots in the soil of mute suffering,
With branches stretching towards a deaf sky, imploring a touch of understanding.
Pain, this captive bird in the cage of our chest, beats its wings against the bars of silence,
And we, magicians of dissimulation, transform tears into smiles and wounds into ornaments,
While the executioners of fabricated happiness dance on the graves of our unspoken voices.
Oh, how silence wraps around us, a venomous snake that tightens its grip ever more,
Until breath becomes a whisper, and the whisper transforms into shadow,
And the shadow melts into the void of a denied, unrecognized, unheard existence.
They, these sculptors of alternative reality, carve statues of ecstasy from our silence,
Paint canvases of imaginary happiness on our muteness,
And compose symphonies of joy from our deafening silence.
But deep within our being, a volcano of truth boils, grows, rebels,
The magma of pain struggles to erupt, to break the crust of indifference and denial,
For each unspoken syllable is a seed of revolution planted in the soil of consciousness.
So let us break the chains of silence, open the gates to the sound of our pain,
Let the cry fly like a phoenix reborn from the ashes of muteness,
For only in the roar of our truth will we find the freedom to be truly alive and heard.
For if we remain silent in the face of our own suffering,
We will become accomplices to our own execution,
And they will dance on our graves, proclaiming that we died happy.
Translation
So something has happened and you are not quite sure
What it is your woman is thinking
Don’t be confused or fret overlong
You only need a translation.
Just look at the words without the distraction
The emotion of the moment
The words stripped bare of the soothing tones
The dress up of dissimulation
This isn’t working ... (you guessed it) You’re Dumped
I wasn’t ready for this ... I was only playing
I’ve got too much on ... You’re not worth the time
I’m so busy ... Won’t/can’t share my life with you
It’s not you it’s me ... You’re not ‘enough’ for me
I’m sorting my priorities ... And you are not there (does she have a pet?)
I need time for family ... There is none left over for you
I want you to be a friend ... We’ll never be really close
I’ll understand if ‘friendship’ is too hard ... I don’t really care, just being polite
It’s not fair to you ... Wish you’d choose to go away
I’m confused ... There is someone else
No matter how it is dressed or dissembled
The results are clear to see.
See them sooner boys and perhaps retain
A semblance of dignity,
Remember men, (a word of caution)
there is no real difference between
romantic persistence and stalking .
For the women who read this,
Embarrassed, outraged!
Your mood is prompted by memories.
A reason please, men can take honesty,
But can you admit your mistakes?
© T. Arnold
The city of knowledge is burning
Crushed are all the houses of learning
Under the siege of the city of information and the city of ignorance
For the two have joined together to destroy gnosis
The gatekeeper has been stabbed in his head
The enemies and the traitors bloodied the rivers red
Decapitating the institutions
Presenting misleading solutions
Leading the inhabitants to a seeming ablution
Only chastising them with their own desire
But the sands beneath the city are ever shifting
The knowledge the city bequeaths is spirit-lifting
And while blood has run down the beard of the gatekeeper
There are millions ready to avenge as the battle gets steeper
My weapon is a sheathed award
Precautionary dissimulation is my sword
I am protecting of the secret knowledge of my Lord
No burning fire has the strength to cut our cord
And as they break the hands of the crowd
And cut the tongues of the proud
Our heart remains the clairvoyant organ of might
This organ is a sealed book, hidden in the darkness of night
And divine light
Will extinguish the burning fires and quench our desires
As the new gatekeeper is put in place
Fully dismantling the hemorrhaging cities of ignorance and information
Inaugurating all in the gnostic station