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(meant in the most non dirty sense possible)
A simple entanglement of truth and simplicity
Or a tangled web of duplicity and complex issues
The face of us that people see and relate to
Is what binds and teathers, to success or demise
The most intricate of things can mean little
To few they make sense, the understanding of a riddle
Puddles of liquid shimmer and refract what they see
Reflections dont lie
But sometimes they mislead
It all depends on that which you want to see
The simple truth or the complex lie
Or who you even converse with, as it might be
The complex truth and the simple lie
Truth is alledged to be self serving and self evident
You can only be mislead once, but mislead many
Trust is gained, yet not through inheritance
It grows on a fickle branch, that is indeed tender
Truth and trust are a mesh together
Sometimes you see through the lies because of it
Cry out and your story will likely be heard
Whatever your message, you pander to a crowd
They dont hear what you tell them, or what you infer
The crowd hears what they want to be heard
To succeed you need to give them what they want
People are saddened not by breaking a promise
But because you made a promise you could not keep
So what cries should be unleashed or released
What you wish to tell, or that which they'll hear
and ten days without something new? damn my standards are slipping
this is a bump, im off to bed to go sleep now cause light has started appearing
Short changing anomaly
Of confusion and wires crossed with me
Understanding leads to where it is
The nervous sheath is a canopy
To cover only those things you expect to be
Illusion and the question of authenticty
Are two fine lines, often crossed with glee
Satisfactory is something which is good in most cases
Yet it evaluates and satisfies
And is happy with the illusion and his lie
Misleading, needing, and trust gained to believe in
Goes far enough to get what it wants
Which often isnt the act or the crime
It is to get away in due course and good time
You are the misleader, the grand old deceiver
The one we are all frightened of
I am you, you are rare
Are there anymore gentlemen, who ever dare to care
Yet there was no living soul within the house
No person around I could tell
That i was awake, and living a dream
Of having free time, yes it seemed obscene
So much i could do, all the time i could waste
And i must be doing it, with good haste
Trampling around with one foot in a sock
A slip on the bag, and you'll have a big knock
Sharp it will be, a quick blow to the head
Teach you from messing around when you get out of bed
Preparing the night before is always a must
Because of that fact you can always trust
That you will be gone, with less than half the fuss
Cornflakes in your coffee, and teacakes on your toast
The confused ones are always
The ones with food messed up the most
Your day might have started, pre midday
Began the day nice and early
But with deleria prominantly on your mind
One can only hope you find the time
To get this hassle off your mind
Working nights until the rise of daylight
Walking home when its well past midnight
earnig cash to put my bills right
Im stressed, its something i dont like
But ive got to do it around now
But by a method of which i dont know how
Should i try to put it right now?
No pay without the work, no work without the pain
Of treadmilling repeatedly, the same rigmarole again
Turn up and clock in, and sign yoru soul away
For the best part, of a mostly unbroken day
Till you get home, late after midnight
The sleep you entail would give you a good fright
And keep you in bed where you're out of sight
Till you start again the next night
I remember asking myself, "Should I ring?"
I really don't know why.
I heard through a friend the breaking news.
All I thought was, "Why?"
We were never truly friendly.
But in the end somehow,
We put away our differences.
We became friends, you and I.
I remember sitting in the church.
And watching you go by.
I remember Ronan Keating's song.
And how it made me cry.
I can still see your face.
Those bright shinning eyes.
All those little memories.
Are locked away inside.
I'll always remember you my friend.
You're in my heart and that'll never end.
comments would be appreciated, and feel free to read back through this thread, to refresh and enlighten old and new minds alike
here it be
Lady C
How did i trip over, and fall right into you
And fall into that life of blissfull abandon
And abandon all my thoughts, except those of you
Was i spurned away, or was it just non realisation
You never could see, what you sweet Lady C
Caused me to think, or even to view
Of those small minded thoughts, i had of you
The dancing, the movement, the lights, the show
Of musical tripping, and seeing you go
Onto that dancefloor, and curve to the sound
Then you and me just standing, and lounging around
You took me to the town, linking our arms
Smiling and giggling, such perfect and happy sounds
The coffee was warm, as was the sun of the day
It saddened me to leave, as we parted our ways
Then i was warned, from a friend and a foe
That your ex other half, might not be so "ex"
You still showed considerate affection, even if slow
But where from this odd moment, do we then go?
With you and your friends, to the ball i did go
Such fantastic memories, such fantastic times
All the participants were dressed to the 9's
But at one point i lost you, then i left
Now you're back with him again, yet he is away
While i came to visit, watch movies, and drink
You thought it was your social group, of fantastic friends
I really came to see you
I didnt make it obvious, what i wanted from you
But whatever i got, at least it was true.
I reckon that's the best I've read on here - by far.
I really liked this, not at all surprised that it's been published.
I didn't know you wrote poetry Gareth, hidden depths eh They're very good, anyway.
erm theres stuff from like a year ago, im surprised you didnt notice
and thankyou
...
I don't think I've ever seen this thread before
Me too! Have you had any of those published Briggi?
the only place any of mine have appeared in print would be in this thread
Not these ones; I had a small book of poems published a couple of years ago through the printing press of a friend [and ex-teacher] of mine. Was even reviewed by Mslexia (woo!) but since then my creative spurts have been very few and far between.
Obviously I've only written these recently, too, so I've barely even plucked up the courage to show anybody... let alone start thinking about submitting them to magazines etc. I don't actually think they're anywhere near good enough to be honest but maybe I should think about it. I have been tempted to enter some poetry competitions before as the prizes can be pretty phenomenal (all about the prizes eh), I've just never had the guts...
:chin:
Me:
That business with the ice machine, was possibly forgiveable
And even that time that was possibly unmissable
But those errors in the office, with the paperwork
Really did help my boss, do anything but smirk
You:
With ten green bottles, sitting mouldy in the bin
Hesitantly reluctant to admit it was a binge
I was wanting to erase and forget, but only remembered
That hot sunless night back in September
Me:
You came to help us all, and work hard you did
You still threw ice cubes, as you took bottles from fridges
Chatting with the customers, trying to build bridges
Yet it all ends, every night, to begin again, when its light
You:
So wrong was that paperwork, that enabled them to pay me
Or that simple verbal warning, mainly to shame me
It was only September, and im soon to be gone
Im still waiting for your admittance, that you were wrong
A moronic plant biologist could plant a thought
In the mind of the platonic geologist
To set roots deep, and rock his world
Erode his facade, seen from the outside
Hard on the outside, and solid within
Against sweet nutured nature, soft inside
Which could withstand that outside world
Growth or the mere fact of consistancy
Who would you let trust, or into your life
Stable, exciting, would she be your wife
That plant biologist that seems so kind
For a geologist, she'd be a good find
The Four Seasons
The world is in a constant change
At the start of the new year
A silhouette of hope emerges
The indignation held against the last season is fading away
The bitter hand has released its control
The melancholy that recently roamed the lands have disappeared
It hides
Reminding the people of earth
That there is hope
This happiness does not seize when the next season takes over the throne
But there is a universal rule
Nothing can last forever
There is an end to everything
As I stand in confusion
I know for sure
That no matter what season it is
No matter what storm is raging against me
No matter what burden is on my shoulder
No matter what obstacle is blocking my way
I know, that your eyes will always light up the darkest room
My memories of you is the best medicine
How could one forget?
Here's a rhyming poem I jotted down very quickly.
Bona fide
Happiness is a difficult thing to describe
as is its silhouette
it is, just like you, bona fide.
it'll surprise you, i bet
it is not always a friendly face
and not always available
but it leaves behind an obscure trace
which you need not enable
you miss it when it's gone
and you barely notice it when it's there
try to stay strong
even though happiness seems rare
If only you hadnt done that this time
If only you had done that last time
If only id remembered what you were like
If only is something someone always says
If only they wrote it, kept their dispair
If only it didnt happen, if only, if only
If only you had left me there, to reflect
You hadnt come back, and collected me there
Id have remembered to collect some hindsight
From somewhere
If only they sold it in immeasurable and large amounts
Do they sell it by the kilo, or sell it by the pound
Its something we all should want and wish to buy
If only i could buy a big bag of "If only's"
Id share them out and probably be the only
One who managed to tell you so straight...
If only you'd managed, not to be late
Even if everyone else allready does
Its hard to make someone learn to like themselves
Lying without realising, they hide their own truth
That even if they have nobody
They are still nicer than they say
She wont admit to much, but there is a way in
She is a flightless bird, yet she is not damaged
She has just forgot how to, and doesnt realise she can fly
She needs to learn to overcome and to soar
To her she cannot be adored or cared for
But she is very wrong, her thoughts are therefore
Complex and deceiving, her heart and mind still bleeding
That is why someone is there, to patch her up
Wether broken, bruised, not interested or dismayed
She and that person are always amazed
When she shows her true colours, and soars in the sky
All by making her smile, and looking into her eyes.
Power Of 3
Love....
Love is waking and thinking of someone,
That someone who's voice brightens your day.
Clouds could hover it would not make a difference
Just three words could change your day.
Lazy days spent in the rain wind or shine
Whatever happens I know your always be mine.
Sitting contemplating wondering is it worth it?
You remember the three words.
One day the contemplating aches away
It cuts deeper than an ocean, well maybe that's a lie
You think of them smiling and that feeling returns
You think you love them.
Loves a horrible thing
It hurts worse than any word or weapon
You remember those three words
Falling out of love is harder than falling in love.
Niki Prior
Copyright ©2006 Niki Prior
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