She weaves her truths with thread so thin,
The needle slips and lies begin.
A charming grin, a steady gaze—
Yet words distort in subtle haze.
She speaks of feats she’s never done,
A war she fought, a race she won.
No shame, no pause, no hint of doubt,
Just tales that twist themselves about.
A shifting past, a fiction’s bloom,
Each room she enters, truth makes room.
She swears with oaths and vows so grand,
Yet truth slips slyly from her hand.
She mirrors back what others crave,
Then digs a deeper, softer grave.
No guilt, no fear, just practiced flair—
Her stories float like smoke in air.
But watch the cracks behind the eyes,
Where the truth is hidden and meaning dies.
pathological liars seem to lie for no clear benefit or reason,
but I think they do it because a fear inside needs easing
the fear of feeling powerless that never ever leaves them
the antidote "lies empower" brings release from the unceasing
spawning from humiliation which they had no control of,
or lonely isolation when they've nobody to hold on,
influence is found through lies when vulnerable and open,
misdirection is their choosing and they own the moment
(but fearing being powerless
is something that a coward does)
delusional power because you are weakness
PATHOLOGICAL POETRY
SO here we are within our small little world
choosing words to express our Souls and Hearts!
I choose to love you -- I choose to choose :
like little precious 'comes and goes'
like famous sayings of those greatest poets
my precious babies and love how you release
the power of your talking: it cuts into this
psychological nightmare of a knot of Life.
Every time I talk to you it seems like you cut
into the veil of dimensions of life and death
but if i ever lose my hope and if i ever lose
my eyes i won't have to cry anymore.
When i meet words that lose my legs
and if i every meet hands of words ;
i will crawl with my mouth and teeth
-- i won't ever have to crawl or talk.
Some days are great and some nights
with wine and friends so now followed by
love and moon shadows.
:: 05.11.2021 ::
Trust is rare & Truth is Free
Lies will cost you... More than a Fee
Why do we Lie....What is the High
To cover who we are
Or just to Comply
Is it easier now
To give a false Reply
Amazing somehow
All can Justify
Dusting tracks from last night
Just list the facts
& No fight will Ignite
The tip toeing Acts
That were tracked at midnight
Is it shame from what we pursue
Then why do we do what we Do
A shameful mention
Of No intention hurt you
Yet your intentions are guilty
And just another Excuse
Your eyes read filthy
As well as your smell too
Why not be honest
& Do as you Promise
Who has the Answer
Who has the Knowledge....
Every word is gospel according to their stories
Teenagers would never file a false report
I remind them to begin with“Once upon a time”
My children only tell the truth “just because”
Simplicity with rocks inside the head works fine
Soft words flow from the tongue like honey
Truth is a hummingbird with pretty feet
When they say“Daddy” I'm mesmerized
My teenagers would never tell one lie to me
Let's start with many and move on from there
Emotional, sincere, red faced in tears
A stream of consciousness makes it clear
Every word is meant for listening but not to hear
The police men knocking at my door
Are a figment of my imagination
They are there to say hello and nothing more
Not to take them in for something no one did
With love we trust the wishes of our kids
Another shot of whiskey makes it clearer
Gullibility works better for parents who
Seem normal but are obviously impaired
Let us not judge lest we be judged
Let he who is without sin cast the first stone
Let's use the ones inside their heads for starters
And put this baby to bed
it's not like
i am trying
but have
mastered
true art and
form from
which
considers
that which
is it is
a witch but
blessed be with
you i've
consented
configured
and
have
concurred
conquered
and conjured
to throw you in
the pond
to see
sink or
swim
One guy, a few years older, out of school,
had seen me where I worked and asked me out.
His look was nice. His car was super cool!
He took me to some big event about
an hour from our town. Till late we sat
on bleachers, and he had so much to say
so unbelievable at one point that
I had to ask myself, “was he ok?”
He had a girlfriend in my PE class!
I hadn’t known this. She came up to me
and threatened she was gonna kick my ass!
A major liar he turned out to be!
Tall tales of glory on that date I heard
No wonder I had found them so absurd!
Feb. 12, 2018 for Brenda Chiri's "A First Date" Poetry Contest.
(A true story. I was 16. I ended up dating his roommate, also an "older" man
but more handsome and truthful!)
It seems easier to do good
and live healthy
if you live in a democratically robust
and multiculturally resonant society.
For the same reasons
it's much easier to bring oneself harm
and slowly disintegrate into isolating despair
when you live in a capitalistic patriarchal
elitist
competing rights make monoculturing might
anthro-centric supremacist society.
EarthRights denied,
also denies internal climate health
as multicultural sacramental wealth.
I am looking for someone to love, not need;
I can’t say a word you’d receive;
In another life she still would leave.
I’m surrounded by the face from a dream,
The emptiness draws out the scream;
The loneliness watches her beam.
Angry hands against the screen.
My love, pathological and unforeseen.
Last summer she was with me;
Last summer, caught in between.
Last summer, the mania I grieved.
Last summer, the lie I believed;
Humiliate the one you need.
I am looking for someone to love, not thieve;
I am looking for someone to love, not bleed.
The birth of pathological Liars
Creations from within the shadows of twisted minds,
who’s passion for, planted seeds, filling it’s needs,
not for the passion of life, or for life’s journey,
but for the passion it will satisfy from the sapling,
from its seed, so that in the future – after nine months –
it can pleasure itself at the death of its offspring,
the death of innocence, the death of that little soul.
To survive, to hide, to deny, comes only with lies,
lies to one’s consciousness, to one’s memory, to one’s family
and to the rest of the world – not understanding – who sees not truth
told by the innocent – you are a liar – another assault ( abuse ).
So becoming a liar - on top of all the lies – hurts less than truth.
From the ashes of sexual abuse comes not the phoenix rising,
but the raising, the cultivating, the creating of a pathological liar !
We all have to suffer from that sexual abuse – because –
it gave birth to emotionally crippled, the pathological liars.
B. J. “A” 2
May 19th 2006
We breathe the same wind
That used to swing the leaves
On my street with solitary angels
Words touching your lips are
Fire flames that goes up the sky
First, passing through me
Then, from your gentle palms
To the meteorites
A pathological love
Able to shake the world
And the gravity
The desire to touch you
Makes me start a war
With the universe