Quotes about lied, page 10
Song of Youth
The sidewalk burned with oranges and yellows
I could not resist
Your face the essence of a morning heaven
Luring me in with it’s presence
The songs of our youth
Hummed from your guitar
So I lied myself down
Shutting my eyes to rest
As your voice sang softly
Light glinted from angels wings
I gave you all my trust
To our surreal dream
Night fell over your soul
Time crept behind your back
Before my arms circled your stomach
Your skinny body left
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poem by Marijke McKinney
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No Excuses Needed To Be Made
Why is it that those who have lied on others...
And have done this most of their lives,
With an evil purpose and intent to belittle...
Would now get upset,
To express that those they have lied on,
Seem not to want to associated with them.
As if to think of their own misdeeds...
Forgivable to forget when done to someone else.
But an evilness like this is deeply embedded.
And those who know it for what it is stay away,
With no excuses needed to be made.
Nor reasons to express a desire to address it.
To stay away eliminates the telling of further lies heard,
By those who habitually are prone automatically...
To be in a lie telling zone,
Believed by them not to be known by others.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Be It Mission Or Bad Decision!
the bastards lied!
gunpowder doesnt taste like sex,
and the bombs exploding,
dont sound like liberation.
while the flesh torn faces
running in fear,
haunt my sleepless nights.
victory doesnt rhyme with oil,
freedom doesnt stink like dead bodies...
my brothers that fell beside me,
are not heroes, they're just dead!
as democracy nails down coffin lids,
while the traders wear new suits.
and the real terror is exposed
in the money on the table!
sure they hate us, you would too!
terrorists come in the middle of the night.
in foreign tongues killing the innocents,
in the name of a foreign god...
no weapons of mass destruction,
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Poor Kid
Mumsie and Dad are raven dark
And I am lily blonde.
''Tis strange,' I once heard nurse remark,
'You do not correspond.'
And yet they claim me as their own,
Born of their flesh and bone.
To doubt their parenthood I dread,
But now to girlhood grown,
The thought is haunting in my head
That I am not their own:
If so, my radiant bloom of youth
Would wither in the truth.
'Twould give me anguish deep to know
A fondling babe was I;
And that a maid in wedless woe
Left me to live or die:
I'd rather Mother lied and lied
To save my pride.
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poem by Robert William Service
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You and I...Could Give Love One More Try
How many wrongs have you known before?
How many times have you said,
No more to love.
And it was love you needed?
How many wrongs have you known before?
How many times have you said,
No more to love.
And it was love you needed?
I've been there myself as well.
I have said to 'go to hell' and cried!
Inside I knew I lied.
I wanted to die!
How many wrongs have you known before?
How many lies had you heard...
Before the door you opened closed,
And you stood there to pace the floor.
Feeling never you would ever trust again?
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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Alf’s Fifth Bit
The pomps of butchery, financial power,
Told 'em to die in war, and then to save,
Then cut their saving to the half or lower;
When will this system lie down in its grave?
The pomps of Fleet St., festering year on year,
Hid truth and lied, and lied and hid the facts.
The pimps of Whitehall ever more in fear,
Hid health statistics, dodged the Labour Acts.
All drew their pay, and as the pay grew less,
The money rotten and more rotten yet,
Hid more statistics, more feared to confess
C.3, C.4, 'twere better to forget
How many weak of mind, how much tuberculosis
Filled the back alleys and the back to back houses.
'The medical report this week discloses . . .'
'Time for that question!' Front Bench interposes.
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poem by Ezra Pound
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You're Not My Son
You are not a bastard
you're still my son,
though you're not my son
My blood don't run
through your vein.
but my words and love does.
I saw you alone
in a quiet path,
you were there, lonely.
I looked around saw no one,
i picked you up and you smiled.
I held you close to my heart
and you did not cry.
brought you in my lonely home
and you made it whole
filling my emptiness with happiness.
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poem by Enebeli Ifyprada
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Southern Tribes Of Youth
southern tribes of youth...
high and tight fastball,
louisville slugger cocked,
bases loaded, two outs!
freckled faced girdle wrapped
momma sworn girls laughing...
old chevy trucks, three on the tree,
careful not to jam the gears.
rock n'roll blaring, pedal to the floor,
Richard Farina rebellion,
'beware the monkey demon'!
and Vietnam lied and vomited
on the tv screens...
gunshots, dead Kennedy's,
and Martin Luther King defiled
by angry riots...
marching for peace,
cuffed and stuffed in a van...
staring through the bars,
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Lied And Cheated
As she had lied and also cheated
With sins before she had repeated
So after all of her sins and lusting
I find her both sinful and disgusting
Goodness in her finally was defeated.
She walks the trail she walked before
Not only as a woman but as a whore
To ridicule and label herself once again
In front of all, even GOD and men
Never will she be loved or ever adored.
She tell her lies and speaks them well
She craves not heaven but only hell
With not passion or virtue or morality
And with only the presence of venality
Her soul and conscience was an easy sale.
She hides the truth so others will not see
Of her life and truth and what she believes
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poem by Randy McClave
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Illicit But Indulge Not
antique hard the spherical tilt
bowed down palm-beach stretched to meet the furnace
cool but crawling to burn
here I stop the definite deviation of flickering
smoke dense with quick blow darkened my hesitant pulse
a strong snailing deared her paws to make me smacked
first an essence intense to embrace the budding ignition
posthumus a moon guarded our optimum metabolism
with tender beams flashed curls from the oceanic fantasies
stammering beads penetrated the ribs of my chest
couldn't I hold the spasm to grip beauty but bold
eruption eliminated all hidings dormant into soul
blatant imposition of the treasure I trecherous
bit the bugle of chastity while stripped off
legacy she ordained with so many banners
lied we lied on the floor of sand
hunting eagle pierced the clarity
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poem by Pranab K. Chakraborty
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