Social illusion
I went to touch my body. As I began to press inward it did not even hurt.
From my right side to its left, my hand effortlessly passed through me.
No, I am not transparent, I am a construct formed from my delusion.
Some call me a catfish. To others, I am a narcissist.
I am me, I am I, I am mine, I am all that I want you to see.
I want all that you can give to me. I am a product of my own creation.
I am a deceptive, social illusion.
DREAMS DEFERRED
dandelion dreams
dancing doting dogwood tree
deforestation
THE QUIET ONES
dark heart’s art tar scars
black blood beating beckoning
sociopath scream
BUTTERFLY BRUNCH
black blue butterfly
breathless beauty blessed beware
bird beak bite bloody
Jigsaw puzzle smile
Ebony eyes long black stare
Sociopath laughs
False Friend.
Your bull smeared on crystal glass
Comes out of your mouth, out of your ass
Your high society, hold your pinky high
You found the gutter, reaching for the sky
Condescending, patronising, business failure
Buy a jacket from a top-hole tailor.
You can’t buy class it’s all pretence.
Doing things that are complete nonsense.
Making plans, planned never to keep.
Used to control, the peasant sheep.
Paying bills gives the illusion of power
Explaining a clock in an ivory tower.
Imposing your will, expanding control
Speaking words, using a sociopathic drawl
You don’t fool me, I shake my head.
I never listened to a word that you said.
The perfect pair, how clever you are?
And yet you still bought an electric car?
Building a house staying off the grid
Justifying the cost who’re you trying to kid?
David Cox 23/03/24
bright orange explosion waking the mind
brings one back to a more dangerous time
haunted gaunt face of starving, frightened child
the chilling results of egos gone wild
thick black smoke of a village on fire
outcomes from authoritarian ire
now chaos surrounds with nowhere to run
but a sociopath's version of fun
decay and mayhem is all that there be
not with eyes but mind at times forced to see
shivering tremors brought on by a dream
fear not the result of what may be seen
bad behavior taken to nth degree
making remembrance the reality
a sociopath
selfserving and destructive
egotistical
God gargantuan
favorite of mine has been
at end say Amen
snow fell on shoulder
could cause him to be colder
when he was older
reminds me of them
handsome looking very trim
happy never grim
Brown Girl Dreaming
Jacqueline Woodson,
Poet
Brown Girl Dreaming Jacqueline Woodson, Poet - Search (bing.com)
heard testimony
have to pay alimony
bunch of bologna
Morning stand-up in front of you
As beliefs contrary to reality
Somehow almost manic of sociopath
Daily scrum of people chaotic
Poverty of fair speech
Wax and wane, almost wine
Grandiose and bouts agitation
No freedom and praeCOX
Peculiar country
Dyskinesia Republic
Pedophiles leap it’s Halloween
What is creepier than that?
They seize any opportunity
To hide up under a mask
Or they stand with candy in hand
Pretending to offer free treat
Your little ones in demand
For perverted eyes to feast
Should you go to the haunted house
Not knowing who will be there
Any spooky character who jumps out
One should really beware
Hard to not fear for kids
Many sociopaths you’d never suspect
Halloween IS scary for this
Safety we should never forget.
10/15/2021
Wealthy anthro-supremacists
do not grow healthy
Earth climaxing climates
So too,
Earth's optimal health cultures
currently predict
massive
unmediated
anthro-mortality
So too,
to a monoculturing sociopath,
whether person
or corporation
or national federation,
intent on coldly acquiescing to ecocide,
What remains of proper poetic
and dignified distinctions noetic
between civilization
and civil war?
What remains of integrity's
healing bicameral balance,
educated
informed
reformed
restored
to distinguish between
domestic health empowerment
and global corroding nationalistic wealth
through sacrificial violence?
What he says to you will not seem quite right.
He will insist that you turn out your light.
If you do it, you are truly not bright.
Better dream yourself away in a kite,
Shut your eyes and dream with all of your might.
Please go right now, he could kill you with fright.
I'm rusty these days
I see you are, too
With your game
They caught you
Again
And you're going in
Again, for some time
How can I put
Everything I've just seen
Into a poem, into a rhyme?
My poems about you used to be so
Prolific, full of everything that never really was
Because I believed
You
Could
Change
Well
Hell
Right? Hell broke loose for you
When I realized I'd been fooled
Now, look at you --
A fool shackled, chained
Ready for big boy prison now, I hope -
Maximum security this time.
I pray you'll be
Okay.
I pray you'll be okay.
You ruined many parts of me, but
My heart is still here. Isn't that crazy?
You amaze me. 47 and still acting
Like you're 18. You amaze me
Not. At all.
Not to diss you, but
We don't miss you.
But, I'm rusty these days
With what I say
And I mean it when I say
I pray you'll be okay.
Took me too long to realize
To see with real eyes
Just how far down deep
In your heart the deceit lies
love
fills my head like a big red balloon
slowly inflating, invading
every crack and crevice
i float higher
and higher still
they say
love makes me do
dumb things
my common sense
has turned to nonsense
(they say)
they say it's best
to extract the object
from my head
as soon as possible
to avoid any further
complications
(they say
they say)
but soon i can't hear them
as i'm floating away
i smile sweetly and wave
singing bye bye
goodbye
i'll see you another day
you
you take me out on a limb
unsteady and cold and high
so, so high in the sky
and somewhere i wonder
just how far i'd go for you
with this dumb smile and this
big red balloon
you say it's okay
so i believe it's okay
despite the wind of reality
keeping us clinging whiteknuckled
and nervouslaughing
and somewhere i wonder
what might happen
if the big red balloon
should happen to pop --
it's a long, long
long
way down
this time
We are snarly, and we’re gnarly,
We’re twisted, and we’re mean.
We smack you with our branches,
And we keep our real selves unseen.
We’re awful, and we’re terrible,
You had better keep your children away.
Because we’ll hold them, and we’ll fold them,
And we’ll never let them run away.
We are the meanest and the baddest,
And the most unhappy ones around.
And the sickest and the saddest,
You will wish your children never found.
Except on Christmas week, when we turn all nice and sweet.
Except when we come to your house, and with you we fast compete.
We are the pretenders, the liars, the thieves, the psychopaths galore.
Where are you going? I am not lying. She really cannot come to the door.
sunshine bends a knee in vigil
seeking absolution's hell
the steeper edge of steel
balance beam of a trail
the driving wheel
is Spiked for the kill
a heart in trespass
rigged like a printing press
cut from raw intensity
a Bad seed wild and free
blood of my blood is destiny's tongue
the devil is my kin
swimming in gin
drowning inside to simply be still
sinking deeper into gradual
furious and gently we lose will
angel’s tears fill my quill
shedding the reach of a mind idle
regrettable and suicidal
a ledge’s last chance to dance
this box in need of one last nail
leaving with a tourniquet smile
defined failure
bluffing on a blind
no chance of a winner
Terry Darcy-Ryan
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.