My lover is Tyler Durden
Only cared for me when I handed him wealth
And once he wiped my tears away
But several times he faded away
Only when I needed him the most
So I shoved his suitcase out of my doorway
And threw him onto the cold streets
Because I came to the realization
Men with two sides aren't worth marrying
The serpent's hiss, a venomous dart,
Is honest hate, a tear right to the heart.
But you, you whisper honeyed lies so sweet,
A camouflage, a cunning, cruel deceit.
You smile so wide, a painted mask of care,
While in your eyes, a chilling, vacant stare.
You pat my back, you offer words of praise,
And plant the seeds of doubt in countless ways.
The open foe, I know where they will strike,
Their hatred burns, a flickering, harsh light. I brace myself,
I steel against the blow, at least their malice, I can surely know.
But you, dear friend, are a viper in disguise,
Your poison spreads beneath my very skies.
You bleed me slowly, with a gentle touch,
A double-faced betrayer that's what you are.
You're the worst kind of hater, who likes to stay hidden behind closed walls,
You whisper made stories that should never be told.
I rather have an honest hater, though bitter, they are still truer, than hollow love, projected false by you.
Don’t put on that face
All love and kiss laced
Knowing your heart
And anger, misplaced
Don’t talk down to me
So secretively
While charming the rest
Yet making me bleed
A Christian, you are
A warm, shiny star
Your words are for me
While THEY give you scars
You give me no choice
I have, not, a voice
I must rot in shame
And bow to your noise
You moan and complain
A relentless, cold rain
It bothers you not
You drive me insane
Then grin at the sight
Of someone who might
Not know who you are
And believe you, polite
You then, bow and pray
As if, your last day
Must be convincing
Or followers, stray
I say you’re a fake
I know what’s at stake
You’re only for show
Please give me a break
My muse can sometimes wear a scoundrel’s face.
He flees and hides behind some desert brush,
abandoning me in a barren place
where sweet imagination has no gush!
Of inspiration I can find no trace.
This villain muse subjects me to a drought
and sets the stage with dreary atmosphere.
He scatters prickly pear and rocks about
while vultures seeking carrion come near.
I fear he’s taken my dear hero out!
Where hides my hero muse inside my mind?
He needs to change this horrid wasteland green
and put the villain side of him behind!
I summon forth my hero – Change the scene!
My quill is out! My hero now I find.
Oct. 13, 2022
For Milt L. Hankins' Three Stanza Poem In Quintain (Sicilian) Poetry Contest
environmentalist
drinks bottled water
plastic pollution
They both breeze in, like bright new stars
Nice clean clothes, nice new cars
But they hide their truth like chameleons
And blend into the scenery of Machiavellians
He talks behind her back and she behind his.
It’s all sweetness and light; but a quiz?
Both smiles hide fork tongues
And eyes never leave the floor
They’re the perfect couple, blond and blue eyed
Perfect and emotionless husband and bride
She spits venom when they disagree
He spits contempt the moment he’s free
For days a curtain hung limp, torn and broken,
They’re nods and eyes, glared-words, unspoken.
Stubborn, determination neither gives ground
Curtain remains half-mast, flaps in the lounge.
Now they spend money to replenish their vows
Apply the glue of a mortgage in a new house
Anything that might distract from emotions they feel
Two fish, wriggling to escape the fisherman’s reel
David Cox 23/06/22
1.Me bhi drugs aur smuggling ki kamai say property ka business start karun??
2.Black money ko white kar loun aur kahun daikha Property Dealer hun??
Note.You are a two faced penny.
I instantly disliked my birthday gift from a friend.
It was a two-faced teapot, and her frown never ends.
I pretended to like it, but my smile was fake.
She brought me a card, a rose and a cupcake.
I noted the card had no flower seeds or such.
But I pretended to like it, and put it up in a hutch.
The rose was almost dead, and the cupcake a bit stale.
I could not wait for her to leave; her name is Gale.
Gale comes often, so the teapot had to stay put.
I nudged it to the end of the counter using my foot.
But then I thought how sad Gale would be.
So I let the teapot live; showing wild empathy.
The teapot was haunted. Doris lived inside.
She was the kind of woman who never could hide.
Her opinions were loud, angry, and unkind.
She was the worst gift anyone could ever find.
She put me in a bad mood each and every day.
But I kept her for years even though she ruined my gay.
She took all my energy and the enthusiasm out of my light.
I still kept this teapot, which means I am not totally bright.
Habit goes forward by looking backward
politician
curses Andrew Jackson
lives on stolen land
Escape into your heart;
Where your mind can't be found;
Flee into the fleeting muscles, pumping iron;
Flow within the vessels that inhabit dew;
Liquids of scarlet drops of quarrel;
Flee from out your head;
Those hurt full pangs you dread;
Sacrifice those killing scene;
Vanquish thoughts of unpleasantness;
Words hurt more than metal, sticks or stone;
And within my last breath...
Two face swords of tongues left;
6/4/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
A tyburn is a six line poem consisting of 2,2,2,2,9,9 syllables.
The first four lines rhyme and are all descriptive words.
The last two lines rhyme and incorporate the
1st, 2nd, 3rd, and 4th lines as the 5th to 8th syllables.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
winsome
awesome
fearsome
loathsome
man of her dreams – winsome, awesome treat
till hurt, betrayed – fearsome, loathsome cheat.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Contest: Write Me a Tyburn
Sponsor: Kim Rodrigues
Placed 1st
Listen to them very carefully.
Just listen to what they say.
Vile drips from their tongue so readily,
disguised in just the right way.
Now ponder for just a minute,
what do they speak of you?
When the crowd's without you in it,
do they mock you too?
Did you think you could escape,
their two-faced?
ALesiach © 08/04/2017
I am a man of two faces
One face for the eyes of the world
The other face for when I close the door
Behind this door, you don't want to see
the face that cowers behind this door
A face which reveals itself in the sullen,
Cimmerian shadows
Most people will not accept this face
Most people will prefer if the mask
I wear for the eyes of the world
remain glued onto myself so tightly
that it will hardly slip
That when I hide behind my door
at the end of the day, the mask
becomes painful to peel
Like removing duct tape off fur
Strands of beastly pelage
ripped out of my fragile, mortal skin
and become a part the face
I struggle so hard to keep on
in the hours of the Sun
I lose a bit of myself and
question my morality
The constant switch between
these two faces grow tedious
and exhausting
I even start to ask myself,
"why?"
An infinite, internal war
plagues me and I lose my mind
Why must the world be so hedonic
and blind?
The truth is, they are not blind
They all wear masks too
And at the end of the day,
when their doors are shut and the
curtains have closed,
The masks slip and a burdening
sigh of relief is released.
A two faced person could never be trusted,
Vexed, riled, tormented his core.
Emotionally trashed his tender was torn,
So he stood and called for a war.
He screamed “You spoilt piece of ..., you’re a real waste of space,
Get out of my life, from my face”.
Deep down he wanted her rumours to stop,
For this person to stand in his place.
But it was what it was, he took a step back,
He suffocated alone.
Alone by himself he cried with the wind,
He cried with a blubbering moan.
And this never ended, all he needed was sleep,
So he grabbed the pills before going to bed.
And the night was too short, when the sun came back up,
He didn’t wake up, he’d become dead.
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