Best Fabrication Poems
Is there any who will challenge circumstance?
On this place of 40,000 writers, how many care?
Maybe many arn't active? Did they get tired?
Some have died..This I know.' Good talented men
Women, I wonder?? I am not much for waiting.?
Not these days, people are starved of knowledge
Denied vision, there has been subtle and overt
Bullying since1920 till now..Now its getting more
Agressive, louder more volume less quality.'
Accountabilty.? That only describes numbers now
Thats all the Media nephalim are inrerested in.'
Period.' How low can they push? all who challenge
The death of the nations? as low as they allow it to
Go.' Thats it..' we can live for better or allow worse
And die in ignomy.' What gain is that? If we allow
Ourselves to be pushovers, it still hurts when the hit
Comes..Are your eyes closed? And is that because
They are swollen from some earlier punches? Or is
It just that you welcome the firing battalion.. Not a
Squad.' Today this epoch..Is one of utter wastefulness
So the ideaology equals current endings, save no reality.'
Once Jessica Lynch of states army division
The sweet young soldier girl of twenty one
Served in Iraq invasion
Never fired her weapon
Honored first prisoner of war woman.
Wounded with bullets and in tension
The doctors paid her full attention
Knife wounds bullet none
Only some bones broken
Fake “rescue” shown on television.
It was nothing but fake history fabrication
Baking jingoistic cake for nation
Bogus syndication
War myth definition
Jessica, a puppet propagation.
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Inspired by Reports on the net - in Monorhymed Limerick
Dr. Ram Mehta
Honorable mention
Contest: Burlesque Boutique sponsored by Miranda Lambert
There was a lady from Trent
Who could not pay her rent.
She stitched and sewed
And lo and behold
She now resides in a tent.
They asked me what I wanted
For they would bestow it to me
But to be unambiguous in what I wanted
I wanted a yellow house
Painted in canary yellow
With a neat white trim all over.
With the most triangular angularity
Painted in the queerest brightness of white
In the front wall was to be a huge window
The most mammoth window
Carefully frosted
Depicting a grand piano of majestic magnitude
I would be in there playing, playing, playing
I would be in there playing, playing the piano
All of this would be perched on a biggest hill
The brightest green hill
The brightest yellow sun
All shining down upon me
As I play my piano
I acquired what I wanted
But forgot the tell them
I want friends to play with too
I want people to talk to too
But I forgot
I forgot the necessity of those
To talk to
Human relationships
I had a yellow house
Neatly painted a canary yellow
With white trim all over
With a roof of the most triangular angularity
Painted the queerest brightness of white
With a huge frosted window
With a great black, grand piano
All on top of the greenest, grassiest hill
All wrapped up for me
But for miles and miles
All around me
No one was there to talk to
All around me was the greenest, grassiest grass
Shining from the buttery sun
They even gave me beautiful flowers
But
They gave me
No one
To talk to
I sat there playing, playing, playing
My heart out
No one was there to hear it
Except the yellow house
The uncharted world outside
I would give
The yellow house
With all the white trim
With all the perfectly angular roof
With the frosted window
With the great piano
With the buttery sun
With the grassy hill
With the blue sky
Just for some company
She had on a gray shawl, but I recognized her I told my friend Dawn.
“I used to have a gray shawl,” Dawn replied. It was wool and itchy.
She had left it in several restaurants, and her mother-in-law stole it.
My daughter is the leader of four girl scout troops, I informed her.
“I was in a girl scout troop once, but then we moved.
I was angry with my parents for moving me; I was about six.”
I did not bother to tell her that when you are six, you are a brownie,
You are not yet a Girl Scout.
I was wondering if this was an exaggeration or a fabrication.
My husband has been awake since three this morning, I told her.
“I have been awake since midnight,” she informed me.
“I wish I had only been awake since three a.m.”
One of my friend’s daughter was killed in a hit-in-run I told her.
“I was killed in a hit-and-run,” she replied. “In another lifetime”.
Angry ocean waves
so rough so cold
a plotted course
a simple belief
life has more in store
the seas of negativity no more
a calm horizon i see
beyond the thunderous sounds of regret
a warm breeze whispers my name
guides me towards hope
my aspirations not fabrications
fear direct me no more
i break free of your chains
my thirst from you will not extinguish me
this life means something more
needs nothing more to live but to drink from the well of wonder
with a child's imagination continue forth and believe that this place
this time is right for me despite all it may seem
My ship of dreams will remain on course sturdy and true.
I couldn't decide which was more beauteous, the web of lies you told her or her broken heart that was in thousand shattered pieces? Was it so much fun that you kept doing it and she kept taking all of it because you made her believe she deserved every bit of it. There was no remorse in your actions, you were one proud person to have broken a beautiful being from her very core. Now she'll never get back to that optimistic being who saw hope in every downfall, all she is left of is a heartbroken, soul crushed, dead from inside being, she's not her anymore!
I have many dreams and nightmares but most that hits my heart is this
A shadow that made my eyes happy was taken away from me and my brothers
I finally understand why, the story that which stirs in my mind
One that is true to its core, which would over whelm any one
The shadows at first was gentle and kind, but all of a sudden ferocious
The past is the past but I think at last
My door to seeing these shadows are being open at last
I breathe with such concern that it almost takes my soul away
When through the emptiness comes a ray of hope
Brothers ran to me and smiled to see me, but that all changed
When kids around us started to disappear an occasion that was not clear
I fear what was not there; I thought of no one else accept my brothers
Not knowing why that they were gone so long, but came back
In the orphanage that we were in, the government stood in
I do not know the story but I can see what was happening
My brothers and I stood quiet, sometimes force to smile
The thing was they had to do something drastic like lock us up
I know why I was so secluded when my brother’s was away
They told me that they will come back so they made me play
They took pictures of me and running with glee
Because I was told that my brothers will come back to me
As this was true the government knew, what they may do
But my brother’s was sad because they were against it all along
They did what they did to me; they locked us up away from others
I was already use to it, but my brother’s was not but they were tempted
Just like I, was told that we will go back to our family
When few days came they let us out, took pictures of us with smile with doubt
What is a fabrication of a smile, is a heart break inside, I could shout
It feels just like it never occurred,
It feels like I just wasn’t there,
It feels just like it was all a big dream,
Melting like a puff in the air,
The fun and the buzz, the philosophical moment,
The act of understanding it now,
Living life in excite of growing their mind,
Each second and minute and hour,
Dancing with time and building on high,
Eagerly I filled up their souls,
But then I was stopped by a fabricated voice,
Placed on some sort of parole,
My name was stolen from the place where I worked,
My heart had to farewell it good bye,
So now all I do is remember my life,
My life before the great lie.
Colorful words used,
For its the pigments of ones,
Imagination.
2019 September 19
The truth of poetry is what ever the reader believes
Words invading paper be it reality or clever little lies
Is one seventeen, fifty or one hundred and three
Love poems do they capture rapture real torrid and divine
Or just a poet with a new thought and competition in mind
Now human perception makes it whatever you believe
Word’s aren’t they delightful a trick or the soul you see.
Figure it factual,
the gingham dog and the calico cat
did NOT eat each other up like the Dutch clock told the story.
Because of loud snoring,
Old Dutch clock had stuffed cotton in his ears;
and the Chinese plate? sound asleep on a warm rock by the fire.
What really happened?
In the evening when the logs were first lit,
the moon shone brightly through the windows with a strange orange glow.
Out from the flaming wood
crawled a cricket. Bewitched by the moon's light,
he hypnotized both dog and cat, leading them into the sky.
famed field of fantasy -
Eugene Field's inspiration, The Duel
my own Figment of Fabrication – an astro-abduction
When running for office,
You might as well lie
For nobody cares about truth,
And if you are caught
And reporters ask Why?
You can blame it on errors from youth.
A lie isn’t merely
“A poor choice of words,”
Which reminds me of “alternate facts.”
The political climate,
With tweets like the birds,
Doesn’t worry how someone reacts.
So a twist of a phrase,
Using “Jew-ish” instead
Of denying your claim as a Jew
May assuage any guilt
Over things that you said,
But no job should be given to you!
*George Santos, Republican U.S. Representative-elect,
has admitted to fabricating key details of his biography.
Our love was just a fabrication of a dream I once had
Fabrication
potent, brisk
tempting, lurking, exploding,
Time, Limits, Clouds, Romance
waltzing, shining, puddling
blissful, ceaseless
Reality