Best Debunk Poems


Premium Member Techno Junk

Keyboards smash for a night owl like me
Refreshing the page; you won’t agree
To open the sites as eyes can’t track
web-links; now comes my panic attack.
Deadline begs the hard drive, “ oh, please load”
Yet, horrid creatures romp in your abode;
The mouse, bugs, and plants versus zombies!
Hey, Dell; stop ruling technology.
With one naughty virus, you are junk
A darn gadget Windows can debunk.
Now,who leads this port, man or machine
My files are saved,well dear PC, I win!



Carol Eastman's Computer Contest
-Plants versus Zombies is an online game
4/9/2015

Premium Member In My Desperation I Prayed Unto the Lord and He Listened-

I was in a funk,
In a state of debunk
In a state of despair
Depressed and hollowed out
All I could do is just shout

Help me
Help me
Help me Lord God, Help me out
And
In my desperation I prayed,
And this is what God said
My son, my daughter Listen to the Lord listen
He (I) will save you
From yourselves and the wilderness
In my desperation I prayed, and the LORD listened; 
He saved me from all my troubles.
In my desperation I prayed, and the LORD listened; 
He saved me from all my troubles.
In my desperation I prayed, and the LORD listened; 
He saved me from all my troubles.
Hallelujah
I will listen
For on the double
I will save you from all your troubles
 And the LORD listened; he saved me from all my troubles.
Results in rash or extreme behavior.
I will come down and save you
"Having lost all hope."
I will allow you to float
Just you and I, walking out on water
In times of trouble I’ll be there on the double
 If you are desperate for food, 
In the means you are starving, 
I will provide you supper and settle all your cravings I will bless you forgive you in your misbehaving
a desperate situation


I was in a funk,
In a state of debunk
In a state of despair
Depressed and hollowed out
All I could do is just shout
Help me
Help me
Help me Lord God, Help me out
And...
In my desperation I prayed,
And this is what God said
My son, my daughter Listen to the Lord listen
He (I) will save you
From yourselves and the wilderness
I will listen For on the double
I will save you from all your troubles
 and the LORD listened; he saved me from all my troubles.

In my desperation I prayed, and the LORD listened; 
He saved me from all my troubles.
In my desperation I prayed, and the LORD listened; 
He saved me from all my troubles.
In my desperation I prayed, and the LORD listened; 
He saved me from all my troubles.



2/21/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2020© 
Psalm 34:6 NLT

Premium Member If You Pull a Long Face - Part Xx

IF YOU PULL A LONG FACE : Part XX

IF you pull a long-haughty face
Some would not your game play
What irks you most is not their voice
But runs they chalk up during volley

If you then pull this long face
With those in the same métier
Beware some might your castle raze
Out of a need to debunk the phoney

Yet if you pull that self-same long face
Know it's your own face you sadistic flay
Whoever for whatever reason takes offence
Stretches his face beyond the Milky Way

Now if you keep pulling that long-ridiculed face
Despite what others do to keep us down I'd say
Go on keep pulling that by now long irate face
There's no better lesson you could give or take Olé

So if you must pull your long-inured face
For ages whipping on slave-ship galley
Go on live in bliss with Moon-mirror face
The Sun darkens skin with un-ending ray

© T. Wignesan - Paris, January 19, 2019
© T Wignesan  Create an image from this poem.


Word Generator Ii

Word generator, don't debunk it,
whatever it throws out,don't junk it,
with some forethought I might
get this Limerick right,
it appears I have- who'd have thunk it?

Word generator produced 'forethought'.

4th February 2016
© Viv Wigley  Create an image from this poem.

Pot

In time we find light that was not so much a remembrance of character void, 

or a psalm of the heterogeneous unlimited focus-

or stance of staving off the news,

in the leeway there is no set mountain, 

or even the scuttled movement otherwise that allows the courteous to emote wisely,

topping out of something takes no drawbridge,

sleeping softly is no more calm than a stereo-graph printing interstellar onto a platform,

finally without the fives at nines going awry for our teller to debunk the checks we saw came late,

I hope for the favorite thing to be what doesn't unmake us-
but stays traveling down an endless moon at noon,

delicacy not,

rectitude forward-
yet always in knots, 

as we know we speak the language of our derailment of pot.

Premium Member Poyecto De Tren Instantaneo Entre Santiago Y Puerto Montt By Nicanor Parra, Translated By T Wignesan

Proyecto de tren instantaneo entre Santiago y Puerto Montt by Nicanor Parra, Translated by T. Wignesan

Soliloquio del Individuo by Nicanor Parra, Translated by T Wignesan 

(Homage to Nicanor PARRA, 1914-2018, the Chilean ANTI-POET, winner of the "Cervantes Prize" (the highest literary honour for writers in Spanish), four times nominated for the Nobel Prize, studied Physics (Brown University), Cosmology (Oxford University) and taught maths and physics for some 40 years, but styles himself as the Poet who writes "Anti-Poems" - a fresh 
chastising wind to debunk self-styled poets hardly born to the métier but drunk with their own effete and ephemeral voices. T. Wignesan, Paris, 2016.) 

The Anatomy of the Instantaneous Train (plying) between Santiago and Puerto Montt

The engine of the instantaneous train
    occupies the place of the destination (Pto Montt)
      while the last coach
       straddles the station of departure (Stgo)

This type of train affords the passenger
     the advantage of arriving instantaneously at Puerto Montt   
      at the very moment he boards the last coach
       in Santiago

The rub is in order to continue voyaging
      the traveller has to keep moving with his luggage
          through the train
         until he gains the first coach

Once the passage has been realized
       the passenger may proceed to exit
        the instantaneous train
         which has remained stationary
          during the entire voyage.

•	Observation: This type of (direct) train serves only the uni-directional journey.

Source: Poem read by Nicanor Parra as invitee to the International Poetry Festival in the Netherands in 1989 (?)

© T. Wignesan – Paris,  2016
© T Wignesan  Create an image from this poem.


Credit Crunch

Credit Crunch


So they rob the money
Ain't that Funny
Banker,Flankers,Tankers
Fingers in the pot
Political situation hot
Slight of hand, diversion
Laundering, pondering

Dollars devalued
Pumps run dry
Petrol prices sky high.
Weep little peasants
Learn the lies

Under employment
Over indulgence
Credit cards blaze
Fictitious accounts,
Spending craze
Bim, bam , Wham
Credit crunch

No more caviar for brunch.
Porsche parked, others jump
Pension crisis, Banking slump.
Brinks Matt robbed !!
And no guns pulled
Faces change, government bull
Play the card, Tell a story

Worldwide crisis, escalating prices.
Bankers paid, government sway
A con trick is a con trick
Watch the play
Another angle, another drift
What if? What if?

Then move to the present
Unemployment rising,
Increased border crossing
Refugees , returnees
And don't forget
The deportees.
Holy Moses we are Sunk!
Run to the tax havens
Lets do a debunk.

See Ya!!

The Door In the Closet Pt.2

The Constable asked me if my elevator went all the way up
how cute, I assured him it did, and knew what I was doing
I assured him that I would be fine, and probably only needed
a day or two to find the answers to my questions.

Well, I suppose it's alright, but thars no lectricity
nor whater neither for that fact. Hasn't been for a long time.
I told him that I had plenty of gear and food, and noticed
some chimneys, I just needed some firewood for the fireplaces. 

So I asked him where I might get some. Sure I do he said
and told me he had plenty on his farm and would be glad to 
let me have some, which he offered to bring by, but he 
would only go as far as the front gate, he wouldn't come inside.

I chuckled at that and told him he had a deal. We agreed on a time
to meet at the gate. It was already two in the afternoon and I wondered
how time went so quickly. It seemed like I had just arrived. I had
come into town a little after 10 am passing Old Knob Hill road.

I finally made it back to the old house, where there was placed
in front an old Gothic style gate, kind of creepy looking at that.
The gate was rusty and stiff,but was still fairly easy to open
to my surprise, and it wasn't locked.....Creepy indeed.

I drove to within about fifty feet of the front door, I figured that
was close enough, and turned my SUV around to point towards 
the front  gate, just to be on the safe side mind you. I have been
told I am crazy, maybe, but I'm not stupid last I knew.

While I waited for the Constable, I decided to unload my SUV and
move everything to the front porch, since the door was locked( I checked)
So I could carry all the firewood in one trip since I was eager to get started.
I was hell bent to debunk this old house as being just an old house.


Continued in Pt.3

Congested Without Psychological Rheum

No antihistamine can 
unblock the lifetime
accumulation of stoppered emotional gunk
zapping, undermining, and polluting *****
mine early life in retrospective avast flunk
stripped mined wasteland qua sinkhole,

where eternal reverberations soundlessly plunk
inescapable deafening, and
blinding this targeted
"scapegoat" bullied by most every punk
wrathful verbal sucker punches,
whereby yours truly habitually shrunk

within himself, yet self actualization
predates how severe
introvertedness doth debunk
the penultimate prevalence that mean kids,
albeit cruel, fiendish, incriminating
ganged accomplices further sunk

this then boy careering
into an abysmal funk
crashing into bajillion pieces
with soundless silent thunk
pitching mental health
(actually entire self)

analogous to comatose
state losing a chunk
of vital growing up years,
when upon reluctant
commencement into early adulthood
debilitating chafing

against self destructive
(mailer daemon) nemesis did brood
apathetic degree of functionality crude
delivering punishing perception,
now this older dude
writhes with lament oft times exude

ding self hatred, especially during
critical years, I denied myself food
never reconciling how affliction
cost development good
and plenti stunted development,
when scythe ying grim reaper donning
trademark black hood

dee metaphorically pinned toothpick
lovely bag of bones fragile as breadstick
easily crushed by madding publick
crowdsource, that slip of a cowlick
my excruciating body electric
demolished with figurative flick

of wrist now shutters hermetic
vacuum sealed "prison" brick
an invincible fortified bailiwick
walled in invisible steely fortress
hardest and most resilient mucous thick
against any wrecking ball.

App-Ology

There was a man who did a deed,
though not of hate, or even greed
'twas innocent, or so he thought
'til everyone was overwrought

They crossed their arms 
and stomped their feet,
one sent out an angry tweet
another just unfriended him
then instagram-med him looking grim

He sank into a deep, deep funk
how could one free of sin debunk
these angry people's thought's about
his deed, indeed he had some doubt

Had he done wrong and misbehaved?
Would his reputation, e'er be saved ?
How could he fix this sorry state
where all he knew, now all knew hate?

His mind began to twist and turn
he thought of all he'd ever learned
of the mind of man (and woman too)
what words would work, perhaps a few
could he deploy to change their minds
and quickly put this funk behind?

And then, a spark; a flash of brilliance
a solution that could work for millions!

He'd write some code, something really cool
not just fix his problem; he'd make a tool
so the next time, well really, just in case
he'd ever need to save some face
he wouldn't have to think so much
of right and wrong and hurt and such
that took so long and felt so bad
and made him feel so very sad

And so he used some elbow-grease
and wrote himself a masterpiece
a java applet that all could use
when they really needed a good excuse

Just point it at your address book
(though you may want to give it one quick look)
and make sure your bosses' name ain't there
though in truth, he probably wouldn't care
to read your very personal regret
or if he did, he'd likely forget

Your mea culpa then gets sent
to everyone who may resent
your gaffe, or blunder or big faux pas
whatever's making your nerves raw
a personal email from you, to  UNSUPPORTED CODE 
that simply says, I TAKE THE BLAME!

A Not-So-Fine Line

There’s a not-so-fine line
Between antiques and junk.
Some objects of “value”
A pro may debunk.

While others, so old
They are covered in rust,
Seem worthless, so passing
Them over’s a must.

Still, it can be fun
Checking out all the wares 
At various flea markets,
Shops, booths and fairs.

It takes a keen eye
To uncover some treasure,
But poking around
Brings a “Look at this!” pleasure.

I Know Now

I know that I am a lover, 
because I have been a fighter,
I know I am a poet, because I 
had been an essay writer.

I know I am strong, because I 
had been weak,
I know I am handsome, 
because I have girlfriends who 
are clique.

I know now that I am an 
optimist, because I have 
suffered the pangs of a 
pessimist,
I know now am a mercenary for 
truth, because I have known the 
pains of an extremist.

I know I am wise because I had 
been foolish,
I know now I am a saver, 
because I had been lavish.

I know now that I can live a life 
of joy, because I have been 
remorse,
I know now that I can be 
married, because I know what 
is a divorce.

I know now I can be good, 
because I have felt badness,
I know now I can laugh, 
because I have known sadness.

I know now I can be creative, 
because I have been 
destructive,
I know now I can be open, 
because I have been 
obstructive.

I know now I am sober, 
because I have been a drunk,
I know now I can perpetuate, 
because I have been a debunk.

And finally
I know now that I can live in 
anticipation, because I have 
lived a life filled with surprises,
I know now that I wear my own 
attitude, because I know what it 
is to live in guises.


I know now…..
I know now……

Anger

Crazy is what they say to me when I say how I feel 

When I say how I feel And I scream the truth I abandon all restrictions 

all confinement is broken
 
I feel like they are all sleeping and I am awake

 So I yell and scream i throw it in their face 

false friends I assail I rip off their vale and expose all that is unreal

Rebel girl rambunctious

I throw my hands up ready to debunk it 

I must be heard time is moving

My angels are fighting and I am on fire 

But  desire is fueling my movement I cant feel shame 

Though I may cause  pain  chaos and destruction 

My heart means peace 

forgive me God help me im only trying to slay this beast!

Or Lord slay this beast with in me  if it is sin that stirs these feelings with in 

Righteous intention angry venting

Peace bring me nirvana 

Calming and soothing be my Big stick so stillness will reign  

Still allowing the  strenthg in me to remain visibly

Peace bring me back my dignity.....

Debunk History, If You Dare

A. History is bunk.
B. Who said? 
A. Henry Ford said. 
B. Who's that? 
A. He's dead. 
B. Who was that? 
A. He was the founder of a major automobile company. 
B. When did he found it? 
A. Er, er..... 
B. Go on. 
A. Actually, I can't quite remember the date. 
B. Why not? 
A. Well, my history isn't that bright. 
B. I thought you said "History..." 
A. "is bunk." I did, but.. er 
B. So history is bunk, right? 
A. Right. 
B. Henry Ford and his statement are part of history, right? 
A. Right. 
B. If history = bunk. 
B. And Henry Ford's statement = part of history. 
B. Then Henry Ford's statement = bunk. 
B. Corollary? History not = bunk. Q.E.D. .
B. Right? 
A. Like, two bunks cancel each other out? 
B. Right.

Heretic of the Modern Age

away with capitalistic free market enterprise
where the concomitant features of greed, power and wealth
fuse to form a pact of unrestrained mass-consumerism
while simultaneously obliterating any shred of a humanistic ethic.

the hollow emptiness of a hedonistic philosophy
representative of the western civilization
rings with the sound of falseness
from the belfry of commodification.

debunk the myth of the supremacy of man
where the less sophisticated species
remain in a role of subservience
while religion upholds this point of view.

the travesty of contemporary existence
epitomized by the crass characteristics
endemic in the advertisements
prior to the advent of a holiday or sale.

opinions about significant political issues
and the general emotions toward the processes of life
trivialized into a farcical sport
by the producers of commercial goods.

renounce the superficiality of the make-believe world
and also the stamp of mass production
that transforms a creative human being into an obsolete soul!

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