Poetry competition CLOSED 28th November 2017 4:49am
WINNER
AtoMikbomb
AtoMikbomb
RUNNER-UP:
runaway-mindtrain
Truth
The Complete Truth
Darling, you look into my green eyes… they may try
To mesmerize you, but if you look way deeper they
Hold the honest truth. You may try to hide and cry,
But if you cannot handle it then why did you stay?
The truth holds up the mirror because all the lies
Are hidden and they make you feel like you weigh
A thousand pounds. All of those pretty little sighs
Got nothing on the truth that is trying to get out
And spill all over you like blood. Your disguise
That you try to wear like second skin is about
To get smashed into thousands of pieces on
The floor when the truth is riding the blowout.
Darling, you know that the truth is long gone
And forgotten about like sharp glass laying
Everywhere. It always gives you a dawn
And new slate. Darling, you are praying
For the truth to guide and steer you home,
But only you can lead the way. You are playing
The truth like the top card or like the dome
Over the truth, safe against the onslaught
Of lies like rain. There you are safe to roam.
To mesmerize you, but if you look way deeper they
Hold the honest truth. You may try to hide and cry,
But if you cannot handle it then why did you stay?
The truth holds up the mirror because all the lies
Are hidden and they make you feel like you weigh
A thousand pounds. All of those pretty little sighs
Got nothing on the truth that is trying to get out
And spill all over you like blood. Your disguise
That you try to wear like second skin is about
To get smashed into thousands of pieces on
The floor when the truth is riding the blowout.
Darling, you know that the truth is long gone
And forgotten about like sharp glass laying
Everywhere. It always gives you a dawn
And new slate. Darling, you are praying
For the truth to guide and steer you home,
But only you can lead the way. You are playing
The truth like the top card or like the dome
Over the truth, safe against the onslaught
Of lies like rain. There you are safe to roam.
Written by eswaller
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Strings
Sitting in the park my mind had a flash.
It felt like I was in a dance, strings attached such as when marionettes dance.
Each string belonging to a man that has pulled me this way and that, moving a leg or a hand.
Why do I let myself get attached?
Many of the strings no longer pull for they have lost their strength because we stopped being fools.
But for the few that still tug, I try hard not to fall in love.
For this is not a dance of love but a dance for those who lust.
And so like a marionette I shall dance till I can break the strings I have attached.
It felt like I was in a dance, strings attached such as when marionettes dance.
Each string belonging to a man that has pulled me this way and that, moving a leg or a hand.
Why do I let myself get attached?
Many of the strings no longer pull for they have lost their strength because we stopped being fools.
But for the few that still tug, I try hard not to fall in love.
For this is not a dance of love but a dance for those who lust.
And so like a marionette I shall dance till I can break the strings I have attached.
Written by Bonzi
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For A Number Of Seconds
Physical boundaries
Blur
Disintegrate
Deep space
Infinity black
Nebula slide show
Becoming One
with
Everything
I
Am
Home
Safe
This
is what I
saw
How I
felt
That first
time
we
embraced
© Kate Adams 12/11/17
A Love Interrupted
I had consented
Or so everyone thought
But was that the truth?
Threats from the devil,
I had to protect my love,
So my lips were sealed.
The devil returns
Threatens my love again,
Will the truth come out?
I should tell him now,
Will he believe what I say?
What if he doesn't?
Can I handle it?
Reliving the horrid acts,
Done by the devil?
But I must come clean,
A rape never reported,
Leaves a broken soul.
I had consented
Or so everyone thought
But was that the truth?
Threats from the devil,
I had to protect my love,
So my lips were sealed.
The devil returns
Threatens my love again,
Will the truth come out?
I should tell him now,
Will he believe what I say?
What if he doesn't?
Can I handle it?
Reliving the horrid acts,
Done by the devil?
But I must come clean,
A rape never reported,
Leaves a broken soul.
Browser of Facades
By S.J.G. Treble Clef
Browser of facades
You swim in shallow waters,
Mother left long ago,
Never knew your Father,
Depth intimidates you so,
though, you go,
Boasting about things that you THINK you know!
Judgment carries your voice,
hypocracy infects your tongue,
Never found the choice,
to pull the trigger of your own gun.
You cannot cleanse
Your guilty conscience,
On the graves of the ones you have slain,
Shadows of inflicted pain,
Dance in the room, on the floor,
of blood stains...
Can you still hear them crying?
No regard for their dying.
You fell for the parasite,
Which lived for your life,
Was it poignant enough to deceive,
And convince all of them of the lies,
you believe?
You cannot cleanse,
Your guilty conscience,
From all your past compells!
Evade to not see,
Depraved reality!
You can't buy back the time that you sell...
Your cryptic world is what I call,
Hell.
Oh, Browser of facades,
Still you swim in shallow waters.
What was done unto you
Now you do unto your sons,
and daughter's...
Rather hate so much more
than love a little less,
Ostracized, calloused heart
in your chest!
All abandoned,
Nothing left....
All abandoned...
Nothing left.
By S.J.G. Treble Clef
Browser of facades
You swim in shallow waters,
Mother left long ago,
Never knew your Father,
Depth intimidates you so,
though, you go,
Boasting about things that you THINK you know!
Judgment carries your voice,
hypocracy infects your tongue,
Never found the choice,
to pull the trigger of your own gun.
You cannot cleanse
Your guilty conscience,
On the graves of the ones you have slain,
Shadows of inflicted pain,
Dance in the room, on the floor,
of blood stains...
Can you still hear them crying?
No regard for their dying.
You fell for the parasite,
Which lived for your life,
Was it poignant enough to deceive,
And convince all of them of the lies,
you believe?
You cannot cleanse,
Your guilty conscience,
From all your past compells!
Evade to not see,
Depraved reality!
You can't buy back the time that you sell...
Your cryptic world is what I call,
Hell.
Oh, Browser of facades,
Still you swim in shallow waters.
What was done unto you
Now you do unto your sons,
and daughter's...
Rather hate so much more
than love a little less,
Ostracized, calloused heart
in your chest!
All abandoned,
Nothing left....
All abandoned...
Nothing left.
Life of Mendacity
What have I come to be?
Living a life of mendacity
Where truth and honesty
Have fallen into ambiguity
In this world of alternative facts
Am I truly so deceived
That I no longer can discern
What is reality?
Or am I just another hypocrite
In a nation of hypocrisy?
Where liars tell lies
That that they can’t
Tell who’s telling a lie
My question beguiles the fact
I’m in a living in a state
Of mendacious duplicity
Inspired by this famous scene from Tennessee Williams', 'Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.'
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qq6869WbJtk
What have I come to be?
Living a life of mendacity
Where truth and honesty
Have fallen into ambiguity
In this world of alternative facts
Am I truly so deceived
That I no longer can discern
What is reality?
Or am I just another hypocrite
In a nation of hypocrisy?
Where liars tell lies
That that they can’t
Tell who’s telling a lie
My question beguiles the fact
I’m in a living in a state
Of mendacious duplicity
Inspired by this famous scene from Tennessee Williams', 'Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.'
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qq6869WbJtk
Lies of Perception
Perceive me as you wish
use words to describe me-
"innocent"
"dirty"
a "psycho" am I ?
Fellow human
I am not your fantasy
Living in this world of self-deceit-
your words cannot define the truth of my being
I don't seem to grip this creature you're seeing..
Existing in the existence of this world-
your mind's been playing a trick
A perfect, perfection of the perfected art?
The greatest dream am I?
What wonders it'd bring to see these dreams come true..!
Wake up out of your dreams...
see me as I am...
Why must you force your wishes upon me?
What disappointment would it bring-
to see your dreams are incomplete?
To notice such failure,
of needs and deeds I don't meet..?
innocent
dirty
a psycho...
in your mind you were blind-
lost in your fantasies...
Why couldn't you've perceive me as I am..?
Couldn't foresee the hopes we could bring..?
A farewell it is...
a good-bye it is...
After endless unsatisfied hopes and dreams
use words to describe me-
"innocent"
"dirty"
a "psycho" am I ?
Fellow human
I am not your fantasy
Living in this world of self-deceit-
your words cannot define the truth of my being
I don't seem to grip this creature you're seeing..
Existing in the existence of this world-
your mind's been playing a trick
A perfect, perfection of the perfected art?
The greatest dream am I?
What wonders it'd bring to see these dreams come true..!
Wake up out of your dreams...
see me as I am...
Why must you force your wishes upon me?
What disappointment would it bring-
to see your dreams are incomplete?
To notice such failure,
of needs and deeds I don't meet..?
innocent
dirty
a psycho...
in your mind you were blind-
lost in your fantasies...
Why couldn't you've perceive me as I am..?
Couldn't foresee the hopes we could bring..?
A farewell it is...
a good-bye it is...
After endless unsatisfied hopes and dreams
Written by SourMelon0313
(H)
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Anonymous
Related submission no longer exists.
Ω OMEGA Ω
Where did it come from
before my own existence,
gender not withstanding.
The freshly minted self
defied carbon dating
while shadows paced in circles,
recalling newborn legends
with old souls honing in on
piercing cries from birds of prey.
Remembering times of
desert seas alive with whales
becoming cliffs of bone
raised from trails of dust,
pulling down what was mine,
carried me 'till the next chase.
With nature's way, my DNA,
not the will of my pursuers,
their scratchings set in stele.
Unbowed, with instincts
through life's brief returns,
to stalk the self-proclaimed.
before my own existence,
gender not withstanding.
The freshly minted self
defied carbon dating
while shadows paced in circles,
recalling newborn legends
with old souls honing in on
piercing cries from birds of prey.
Remembering times of
desert seas alive with whales
becoming cliffs of bone
raised from trails of dust,
pulling down what was mine,
carried me 'till the next chase.
With nature's way, my DNA,
not the will of my pursuers,
their scratchings set in stele.
Unbowed, with instincts
through life's brief returns,
to stalk the self-proclaimed.
Written by Jade-Pandora
(jade tiger)
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Husking Corn
why do I save them
the evidence
written records
of her torn soul`s
intended departure?
as testament?
artifact?
a disclaimer
shining approving light
towards my favor?
things like this
cant be explained
any more than finding
in my kid`s crib
a room temp ziti tray
she might have been
giving life the slip
but her baby
wouldnt go hungry
while her man dealt with apocalypse
or the night
I got home
just in time
to witness her painting
a huge vagina
it must have been
seven feet long
applied directly
to the kitchen floor
talk about anxiety to perform
but truth be told
pretty much any situation
can become the norm
once you weather initial storms
suicide management turns mundane as husking corn
damn, I used to bury
this truth
under super-pressurized layers
of imploding denial
so, how come I never destroyed the proof?
perhaps, whether she lived or died
this attempt
to transfer her self through writing
was the closest thing to a mirror
of her individuality, the essence of her life
whatever the reason
I continued finding farewell letters
tucked in books and tea boxes
like pot seeds in gatefold record jackets
long after she was "better"
compelled to compile
I`ll stumble across them
once in a while
like tonight
which prompted this trip down memory pain
and do I keep them under lock and key?
no! I`m as bad as she
they`re on the shelf,
in a notebook of drum-beats
waiting for the unfortunate browser to pick up and read
the evidence
written records
of her torn soul`s
intended departure?
as testament?
artifact?
a disclaimer
shining approving light
towards my favor?
things like this
cant be explained
any more than finding
in my kid`s crib
a room temp ziti tray
she might have been
giving life the slip
but her baby
wouldnt go hungry
while her man dealt with apocalypse
or the night
I got home
just in time
to witness her painting
a huge vagina
it must have been
seven feet long
applied directly
to the kitchen floor
talk about anxiety to perform
but truth be told
pretty much any situation
can become the norm
once you weather initial storms
suicide management turns mundane as husking corn
damn, I used to bury
this truth
under super-pressurized layers
of imploding denial
so, how come I never destroyed the proof?
perhaps, whether she lived or died
this attempt
to transfer her self through writing
was the closest thing to a mirror
of her individuality, the essence of her life
whatever the reason
I continued finding farewell letters
tucked in books and tea boxes
like pot seeds in gatefold record jackets
long after she was "better"
compelled to compile
I`ll stumble across them
once in a while
like tonight
which prompted this trip down memory pain
and do I keep them under lock and key?
no! I`m as bad as she
they`re on the shelf,
in a notebook of drum-beats
waiting for the unfortunate browser to pick up and read
Written by drivelicious13
(alon aLion)
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A Poetess Is Not Without Honor; Save Offline
Smithing phonetic tonics - vivid
swollen stanzas glow
searing - fresh - afire
& torrid from the forge
Reeling lyrics off looms
authentic velvet threads
organic opus
of woven gold
Pricking my soul on this
spindle
& letting ink flow
Dripping hints - hairline trails
slick & sweet -
this lifeblood
my bread crumbs
utterly unfollowed
by those nursed on skim milk
with watery arteries
Who prefer a diet of smoke
***
Truth is...I'm pretty fucking salty, and I carry chips like a rucksack on my shoulders.
swollen stanzas glow
searing - fresh - afire
& torrid from the forge
Reeling lyrics off looms
authentic velvet threads
organic opus
of woven gold
Pricking my soul on this
spindle
& letting ink flow
Dripping hints - hairline trails
slick & sweet -
this lifeblood
my bread crumbs
utterly unfollowed
by those nursed on skim milk
with watery arteries
Who prefer a diet of smoke
***
Truth is...I'm pretty fucking salty, and I carry chips like a rucksack on my shoulders.
Written by AtoMikbomb
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Anonymous
