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Silverflame Jan 2018
approaching nightfall
rosy stray lips talk too much
drinking the false truth
John Bartholomew Jan 2018
We all want to live the high life, but few can ill afford it
The glamour the glitz to dining at the Ritz, a means to which we could all be easily adjusted
But the nine till five pays pittance for those shots in Hello and Vogue
The dreamer can dream their dreams while living off that hefty loan

The Range Rover, the Levante, the Lexus RX, who wouldn’t be jealous of a little luxury
The clothes to the house with security and lights, boy you must be worth a few pennies
Erroneousness and the falsehood of a life well concealed
Paying back that percentage rate from which you may now reel

The reality is your just keeping up with the Jones's
Penny pinching is a way of life but best not show the neighbours
Walk on with your head held high in the knowing that all’s not good
Struggling to pay the bills and sometimes even your food

So here comes the bail out from someone close by
Indebted to your eyeballs without the decency to even cry
The banks would laugh at your misgivings knowing the debt was in their hands
But you carry on, it’s a way of life hanging onto that final strand

You’re in the clear, all debt is gone, time to make a fresh new start
A second hand Fiesta, *** burns in the seat, what happened to my big shiny car
The mums at the gate all talking in sneers, now that I’m out of the pack
Fill out that online form, more credit to burn, time to get back on track,
and revitalize that false front.

JJB
The recession won’t be over till we raise a generation that knows how to live on what they’ve got. – Unknown
Mane Omsy Jan 2018
What does the future hold for me?
Sometimes I believed it will be fine
Writing made me spit the viruses
That burned me half my life, hatred
On everything I found bitter around

Killed my realness as a growing person
Now, enjoyment still hurts inside
Watching birds fly beside me
And never landing on my hands
Should I trap and catch one, to love?
Obvious, I said I never felt cooler

Complaining issues seemed whining
Naked truths will find their way up
Through the fogged lies and covers
Sean sutton Jan 2018
What are we doing
Making up lies and false hope
Making our self bleed
Dakota J Dawson Jan 2018
By the way
To all the cryptic beings
Find a place in my heart

Away from the public
Toward the evening dawn
Bordering the bright blue sea

There you will find grain
Possibly wet sand
Coconuts by the dozen

Enough pleasure
Just the right amount
For a hairy beast

Sadly, it is all lies
A hairy beast
Coconuts in the sea

This poem means nothing
Really that's the point
It really is cynical
Dakota J Dawson Dec 2017
Dreams are black and sullen
Like the black stallion
Pure beauty

Though it lacks simplification
Relying on my obsession
Killing the temptation

Is Our love true?
My love is false
No one cares

Any shining stars of a beautiful moment
Fade into oblivion and darken
Leaving me high and wet

Where is your hand
Mouth
Taste

*** is all that you are to me in this sphere of time
To not talk nor greet at the given moment
Equals talking to an unknowable god

To you, I amount to nothing
Stallion you are to me
Beauty identified

There is not a time frame for us
No goodbye or a hello
Just another sigh
Poetic T Dec 2017
And so the sheep did follow
                     and fall to there knees
not knowing the truth of there
future folly.
For those before clothed the Shepard
and Fed his many needs.

While they were tossed aside
              empty vessels of false followings..
And when the knew were born
                          the shepherd smiled.

Not for the birth of new life,
            but to fed upon there insecurities
   knowing when they could walk,
they would follow his words that were
               just leading them to there inevitable ending....
False prophets, you dig our graves with sinister divinations,
Bestow unrepentant indignation, and neglect to hide your shallowness.
Cast condescending shadows from high upon your sanctimonious mount, but
We wear our pride; our faith and love, our shrouds, and we will not be buried in the night.
Oh, I say woe unto them that call evil good and substitute darkness for light.
Oh, weary we may be, but forsaken we are not. Tread lightly when with lust and greed you choose to cast your lots.
Written for First Baptist Church of Worcester Poetry Fest Challenge 1: Acrostic – FBCWOO.
Anne Scintilla Dec 2017
No written poems,
Nor lyrical prose left unsung,
Such beauty confine.

Longing is the home,
As punishment to who steal,
The art you behold.
for that one person that you may or may not like. somehow, the reason why they can’t be your muse.
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