We're all actors.
Lying is at the core of it.

Lying to mask the extremes of our emotional spectrum.
                   A mask can be whatever it is you chose.
The comedian? The artist? The leader?
                   You can be whatever it is you choose.  

"Be yourself."
My question is, which one?

You gave us angels and demons
And no lessons on fighting evil
Except for us to pray
The demons away
And put angels please
On our Christmas trees.

You designed specious poetry
And insisted it was truth.
You corrupted our youth
With jealousy and hate
By teaching us natural
Was simply not natural.

You dressed in golden cloth
And in disgusting holy sloth,
You designed palaces
And bejeweled chalices
As you grew roley-poley
Then declared yourself holy.

You set up rules of sanctity
That you, in your insanity
Could never live up to
Not even come close to,
Because your image was not
Like the rules we have got.

A confidence game by scamsters
Who only want to be masters
Of a race of the gullible
And socially malleable.
Your morals are a mystery
Since the beginning of history.

I'm lying to you,
and I'm afraid to admit it.
This cannot be my admission,
because I am a liar.
Do you see my dilemma?

I let myself hate some people,
Just this once, without remorse.
It isn’t that they couldn’t be better
But they certainly couldn’t be worse.
When I see someone hurting others
Just because they know they can
I begin to doubt if they really are
Still what we could call a man.

Or a woman, it’s that way too.
I have seen both happening
And their womanhood doesn’t really
Spare them the awful labeling
As monsters no less than seen
In the worst of horror flicks.
You don’t have to watch them long
To recognize that they are sick.

Why would anyone with everything;
House, toys and outrageous food
Find themselves so evil and resentful
To get into a robbing, killing mood?
Yet they do, and spend great energy
Finding ways to steal and maim more
And more of people they don’t know
And then call themselves sweet names.
What does it take to make people be
All hyped up on these kinds of games?

And why do others applaud them
And act like they are something great?
Go ahead, come up with some excuses.
I’ll be patient and sit and just wait.
What could make a person believe
That genocide, embezzlement and theft
Are they only ways they can have fun?
That there is nothing more fulfilling left?

i am lying on my stomach
starring at the blue elephant prints on this duvet
i got from Sri Lanka last year. and there's
a small voice in my head
that says to me, do not fall in love again.

but i do it it anyway.


-- Eleanor

The Art of Subconscious Illusion is an elusive tendency towards the averse,
             or rather,
the act of lying to oneself

        Oft times you’ll find yourself wondering how...
             …how you lost her…how you lost love…

                            how you lost yourself

         Your mind a jumble of
               spiral static,
         coils of confusion, twisting malevolently,

                             failing and falling,
                   flawed and faulty,
          feeble and fading,

you slowly begin to yearn for a second chance,
        wish that you had performed more charmingly in the blistering tragedy of feelings lost...

but there are few second chances in the misfortunes of life.
      the damage is done, and now you must live with the consequences
       of a dying will to persist in this journey,
                              the ups
                                                the downs
                                the laughter
                                                        ­ the pain
after endless days of convincing yourself you’re not to blame you finally see it for what it is...
                    You made the choice
     you made your bed, and now you must lie in it…

and as you slowly make your way towards the reclining ***** of the soft satin covers you’ll begin to see….

it was not a bed your actions relayed....
                                                                       ....it was a coffin

I saved you once

Implanted in my mind
Harder to find than you might admit to
The pinnacle of existence
I can see, as you can see
You're far from blind
I know you've seen my truth
Reflective persistence

I'm not trying to bug you
But I've got what you're missing
As you're fishing for something
Somewhere inside you
Take a look

I might as well be an open book
With false pretenses
Ill make amends
And tend to the gaping wounds
Limbs rotting off

The soft landing is to get sawed off
You head case
Its so cold alone
On the floor
Something new is just in store

Open up
The time is soon approaching
Dramatic I know
But either I stay, or I've got to go
I'd hate to leave you in this state
But you've got to have it some type of way

I can feel it too
Burning down the back of my throat
Gagging on reality
Mortality is such a joke
Poke the bear
To get mauled
Fallen off

...

I've still got you
The true one you
Cannot live up too

Still in my mind
Still biding my time

Don't dare to argue with a woman's intuition!
I mean her telepathic, liar-detecting capabilities. I mean sometimes you make her feel like she is on a mission.

You come holding flowers of peace, logic and love. Ignoring that sense that doesn't have a number. From the Guts of the ocean flooding. Your crashing waves and patterns, she can smell. Even if you're thousands of miles away. Or beside her laying the hay.

Man don't you understand? Dissing a woman's intuition is forbidden! Strictly when it has to do with other. Women.