Best Fabrications Poems
Our lives are not immune to the impact of time,
nor is our mind between the tensions of love and hate.
That's why I curse this wanderlust heart -
still searching for that wandering star.
without a guide - without a love to call my own.
I try not to look back, but sometimes certain scents,
remind me of things that saw me as a minority.
A summer heart misplaced in winter's wickedness,
a child frozen in the passages of a stolen childhood.
Ingredients of my life are a juxtaposition of flavours,
finding purity among diseased hearts,
fighting against principles of corrupt minds
and I hurt nobody - until they pushed me,
it was never about the physical - but the mental.
Silence is different in adolescence -
suppressed into a protective bubble,
you reject the harshness of existence.
My small hands could not hold the burdens,
so I was mute as demons slayed my father,
his anger drowning my brothers into darkness.
Tears of my mother, dehydrated my soul,
so I grew like a tree with broken branches -
sometimes naked, sometimes an abundance of green.
Even in an obscure world of nightmares,
my heart was a light bulb, full of dreams -
but misplaced in a place of misunderstanding.
I adopted silence in the violence,
because I struggled with reality's fabrications.
Fatherless,
I found acceptance in the war on the streets,
where love was poison, but hate brought prosperity.
Only surviving due to my father's name,
yet I knew it was an unwinnable game.
My hands were pacifying guns,
so I learned to exist without bullets.
I was a black sheep in a strange white herd,
opposing shepherds who couldn't tolerate me.
A clean soul in a dirty social order -
a peaceful heart seeking a place to call home.
Silence is a choice in adulthood.
I used to ignore the pain from unhealed wounds,
but today the inner child screams and shouts,
because oppressors can no longer mute my tongue.
Death taught me not to be bitter,
stubborn fingers how to bleed ink onto paper -
showing compassion in an ugly world.
If life was so simple, we wouldn't look at it differently.
Our perceptions are based on what we have learned,
what was, what is to come and what we search for.
Where you end up depends on how you deal with the past.
Donald Duck Chancellor of this fowl kingdom
wearing an upside down smile's raging hypocrite backwards
this deranged Duck twitters to and fro as his unhinged subjects
unwittingly applaud him onto a victory march that never appears equal
except in his alternate universe of oneness
Calamity Jane perchance is on the horizon
while war looms close by this feather prides himself
on his big show asking for a mirror to check his orange glow
he jokes and preens fading in and out so it would seem logical
tearing down all good morals he alienates with his constant magic escapades
Sleight of hand reflections move
with this fake news it gets exposed
the big top rotates under an eclipsed lie
fire breathing condemning all those against his way
entering the arena for the next late show
Now Big Bird has been caught fibbing
just when they thought everyone was safe
getting off the band wagon or so to speak
Just signing the pact with her feathered friend
letting on they are getting on so well for the world to see buddies
Almost joined at the hip like in their loyalty reigning over truth
in this ungodly circus of the vainest sort
Where the funfair clowns abound
under fabrications an orangutan watches on
beating his chest in an ape like manner and solid hands
he has no way to express words
puffing and panting swaggers
living under thee umbrella protected from the truth’s influence
Alvin and his chipmunks sing the national anthem
while the confederate flag waves goodbye over democracy
begins the three little pigs stages as they enter the building
their houses from clay flamed with truth
ransomed for vanities sake no good ending can come
Earthquakes separate the earth
floods come with grave disaster
hurricanes winds rise from the greatest source
even this cannot deter or distract this awful Duck
one mission under a selfish chant of
quack a doodle quack, quack a doodle quack, quack a doodle quack
which only translates to me
only me, me only me, me only me!
a co written piece by Donna Loughman and Liam Mcdaid
Donald Duck Chancellor of this fowl kingdom
wearing an upside down smile's raging hypocrite backwards
this deranged Duck twitters to and fro as his unhinged subjects
unwittingly applaud him onto a victory march that never appears equal
except in his alternate universe of oneness
Calamity Jane perchance is on the horizon
while war looms close by this feathers pride himself
on his big show asking for a mirror to check his orange glow
he jokes and preens fading in and out so it would seem logical
tearing down all good morals he alienates with his constant magic escapades
Sleight of hand reflections move
with this fake news it gets exposed
the big top rotates under an eclipsed lie
fire breathing condemning all those against his way
entering the arena for the next late show
Now Big Bird has been caught fibbing
just when they thought everyone was safe
getting off the band wagon or so to speak
Just signing the pact with her feathered friend
letting on they are getting on so well for the world to see buddies
Almost joined at the hip like in their loyalty reigning over truth
in this ungodly circus of the vainest sort
Where the funfair clowns abound
under fabrications an orangutan watches on
beating his chest in an ape like manner and solid hands
he has no way to express words
puffing and panting swaggers
living under thee umbrella protected from the truth’s influence
Alvin and his chipmunks sing the national anthem
while the confederate flag waves goodbye over democracy
begins the three little pigs stages as they enter the building
their houses from clay flamed with truth
ransomed for vanities sake no good ending can come
Earthquakes separate the earth
floods come with grave disaster
hurricanes winds rise from the greatest source
even this cannot deter or distract this awful Duck
one mission under a selfish chant of
quack a doodle quack, quack a doodle quack, quack a doodle quack
which only translates to me
only me, me only me, me only me!
a co written piece by Donna Loughman and Liam McDaid
When someone lies to me, sometimes it's difficult not to turn and walk away. I think they do it because of one of two reasons. Either they need to feel important, or because they think I'm too stupid to know they're lying."
Nothing irks me more than jerks who are habitual liars
Fibbers whose evil forked tongues I'd extract with pliers
Those who look me square in the eye and keep defying
my skeptical look of askance when I think they're lying
If I could bag lies, fake alibis and bull crap I am fed
I would be spreading that fertilizer in my garden bed,
aware that manure helps flowers bloom all year long
But the stench of bull crap would be much too strong
Liars can't be believed, even when speaking the truth
I find it distasteful, malicious, abhorrent and uncouth
They insult my intelligence, and I find it very repulsive
but to those who tell lies, it's irrepressibly compulsive
They keep trying their damnable best to get me to believe
that a ruse is the truth, but with malcontent they deceive
It's a fault of mendacious fabulists and cunning scams
With falsehoods they'd shave the wool of innocent lambs
No pearls I cast before such swine, who wallow in muck
Caught in webs they've woven, in quicksand, they're stuck
Liars move deeper into darkness with each fallacy they spin
Their recurrent falsehoods are bull crap, and will do them in
Woe to liars when their deceitful fabrications are exposed
Until the truth they admit, my door to them will be closed
Deceptions are forgiven if they are repentant and confess
But I'm not naive enough to keep falling for their load of BS
December 24, 2021
King-Size Bull Crap Contest
Sponsored by Charlie Messina
Hollow Justice
Justice called the role
not seeking innocence
but truth
beauty stood before the bench
accused of wilting flowers,
faded hues, dimming rainbows
purity stood guiltily
head bowed, besmirched,
despoiled by innuendo
pride stood angrily
fist clenched, defiant,
without shame
honor cowered in the shadows
disgraced by perception’s
cowardly fabrications
duty stood alone
neglected, shunned,
by those she served
truth stood silent
in the knowledge
none are innocent
John G. Lawless
8/21/2015
Petals drenched in poison pearls of emerald envy,
carefully placed objectives whilst adrift in my tears of realization
Longing sorrowful souls among lilac lakes,
buried deep into somber depths of tinkering procrastination
Starving for ruby righteousness and pristine perfection, and yet still reaching towards a tilt heart searching desperately sunset embers
Distinguishing luminescent authenticity among
bittersweet endives drifts away with each cooling December
Shall I pursue soft screams for kissed loving
ethereal roses dazzled with enchanting sensations
To float away from every twisted hazing hoax with every spoken whirling weapon - coated with fabrications
An expression of allegiance to the image in one's eye
A vow to never forsake thee even with a miniature lie
Or even a blemish to the bond that our souls share
Believers need not a dream nor a single prayer
The obstacle of faith is believing without seeing
And the beauty is the truth that one is being
Being this imaginary image my eyes have never seen
Making me trust that one's hands remain clean
Free of all impurities and trouble that seems to follow
Preventing this heart from a hole so deep and hollow
Or killing a dream filled with optimism for tomorrow
And consistent in every way and not just words you borrow
More than devotion, something like a promise from the heart
A commitment to thee that this joy shall never depart
And drain the evil thoughts so that they no longer flow
Only the King of the mountains in the celestial skies above can truly know
That the words which provide me with comfort are authentic
Not just false portraits of happiness pretending to be photogenic
Or fabrications misleading the naive and the blind
But giving contentment to this confused mind
Leading one away from the thought of destruction and disaster
Establish my faith the same way as my pastor
Make one feel like there is only I and no other
Build this trust so high that belief can go no further
Uncover your words and leave no mask
Because your faithfulness is all that I ask
Beloved,
with preposterous
persistence,
I still search
for your likeness.
Gravitating
toward every
handsome bald man,
I scan the light
that reflects
off their head,
like the globe of home.
I strive for
the sight of bushy,
frost seasoned eyebrows
and hazel eyes
defined with
laugh lines, and I
shape-shift them
to resemble yours.
I hunt for
hearty hands,
calloused and
unabashedly
bleeding from
the weed wacker's
counterattacks.
I hearken to a
Manhattan accent,
while recalling
the name of
your favorite
fruit, "our-ange."
My ears perk
at the pep of
baseball announcers,
the background
soundtrack of
your steady presence.
The scent of rum
comforts me like
your broad-chested hug.
Beloved,
another's
stubbly cheeks
lead me back to grief.
Unattainable
in this stand-in space,
is your love,
beloved.
That amiable
smile that delighted
an entire room
no longer blooms with
its fragrant welcome.
Nocturnal
is my fervent search,
without night vision.
Knuckles outstretch,
but palms clutch nothing.
Beloved, your love
is within
roaming shadows,
splattered upon
the pavement
of nightfall.
Glances of
expansive
remembrance thin,
vanishing
into fumbling
fabrications
and uncertainties.
Yet certainly you
are loved forever,
currently
unattainable
to behold.
4-11-2021
David means "beloved."
Dedicated to my dad
Today they believed the lies
the distorted truths… the accusations… and wrong-doing cries
the created fabrications which are easy to consume
conceptualizations and distortions… abundant and abloom.
Responsibility once assumed… but now rarely seen
reality now falsified… made convoluted… and obscene.
And the beat goes on….
as the mind is twisted
like that character… on Prodigal Son.
And while these false narratives appear
which the perpetrator wishes that all will embrace
the ego desperately asserts and manipulates
loyalty and trust is what it requires, and necessitates
but the soul is slaughtered… beaten… and no where to be found
and truth is tossed… lost… by perplexing theories which abound
while delusion….
leaves nothing but despair and mind confusion.
And life goes on….
the mind twisted
like that character… on Prodigal Son.
"Dry Throat at the Water Cooler"
Particle after particle,
Riding out the sandy dunes
Wanting so much to nibble
on the grapevine
My wind pipes crack, from dry wit and gossip
All the witty remarks are scarce
Snatched up by others flushing out
fabrications Diverting attention
from themselves Drowning in their own
Egos
Arid of thought for fifteen minutes
It is hardly a break at all
So dry of talking coworker factoids
Will I have to swallow their moist
Derision.
Recycled Wisdom Lost
by Odin Roark
How common to recycle today
bottle,
cardboard,
can,
or bubble wrap.
How rare the regard for pleas from
mind,
heart,
memory,
wishing also to amend anew.
How satisfying,
To arouse the sleeping heart,
thrusting its comfort-beat
upon new rhythms made aware,
ensuing musical notes of clarity
not yet upon the staff of boundaries,
affording dissonance where only
harmony's familiarity once reigned.
To revisit memory
offering bygone experience,
wiser tools of perception,
scrambling dog-eared indexes
cross-referencing fact and fabrication,
allowing waste to fall free,
encouraging truth to persevere.
To sort through mind's many strategies,
discounting some,
discarding others,
dismantling exhausted cogs that
advance little the unknown begging at the door.
Such is…
To complete one's desire to remain conscious,
allowing distinction for that worth rebirthing
from chaff heretofore but a friction urging resolve.
How obvious to some:
the take-to-the-curb days of consciousness.
How misunderstood by others:
the smothering effect of effort
to treat excess destined as garbage.
How aware
those who
like the winged flights on high
weave today's nest
from yesterday's exhausted remnants,
knowing well the destiny of permanence
is but to replant where burnt forests once thrived.
And yet…
We often think recycling is confined to aluminum,
plastics, glass and other fabrications of man’s intellect,
but what of...
Millions and millions with one stone gone.
Killed by their own wrongs
From negating a path strong.
But oh, a picture perfect life shown
With three children in the form.
Altered destiny to hinder success seen.
Today, their fate is perceived. to be a ruminated future confound from all their deceits.
One stone with millions and millions of lives wrought into a mental mirage.
A figurative arrangement disarranged for other’s illegal espionage.
Fabrications documented as a true act found life attacked.
Victimization attracted by hate fashioned the image repudiated.
But oh, a path strong formed.
The life negated held on.
Today, a just soul.
Augmentation of knowledge and wisdom transformed the home front.
A sphere of influence henceforth.
An entity of a government provided the acumen.
But oh, a picture perfect life was empowered by the mendacities told.
A sage is in transition to manifest reform.
These days’ spuriousness is ameliorated by yesterday’s social injustices.
___________________________________________________________|
Written December 24, 2015!
The Tangled Web
Lines on her face grew deeper when fabrications were conceived
When further contradictions came, she knew not what to believe
Caught in a lie I’d be sent to my room; there’d be no reprieve
Mom said, "A tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive”
My boyfriend had no license yet; we wanted to double date
To get my mom’s permission, a lie I had to perpetrate
Claimed the driver was my boyfriend’s brother to mom’s fears abate
This was the first strand in a tangled web I chose to create
When the invitation to his wedding came, mom was irate
The “driver” had another last name, more lies I did inflate
“They have the same mom, just different dads,” but this did not equate
She’d met his Catholic parents; divorce was against our mandate
“His older brother’s father died.” This made my mom a skeptic
I wish mom would have washed my mouth out with an antiseptic
For now the web that hovered above had grown so very thick
Mom was on to me for sure, so she devised a clever trick
At mass my mom asked his where her first husband had been buried
How quickly she responded, “I’ve never before been married.”
For two years these lies had grown, and so much guilt I had carried
This snowball led me to declare I’d never again mislead
Though the truth may bring results that are unsatisfactory
You won’t be covered by webs built of story upon story
And when the truth prevails, you won’t see eyes accusatory
Or spend your teen years in a room filled with falsehoods’ armory
*True story for Paula’s “My Parent” contest
She is whimsical midst-escaping
blackness & beige stagnation,
reverberant betwixt musicality &
fictitious paisley fabrications,
recognizes the actuality of her
enigmatic spirit's frivolity,
well-defined by her quirky
quintessence serving her far beyond
periods of reflective flourishes,
has never been a slave to social
expectations nor gravitas of
worldly-minded undertakings,
materialism is not her cuppa tang
nor an applicable proposition,
heartfelt inclination is e'er creation
and the freedoms it relishes,
you may catch glimpses midway
seascapes & ocean's roar or
summits of splendiferous
mountain's sumptuous loftiness,
swaggers 'bout configurations
and milky way's artsy effulgence,
plays amidst wistful forests with
nymphets and poisonous toadstools
sashays 'round wildflower meadows
blanketed yonder moon blushes,
sun-kissed & star dusted she's
collectively nightfall 'pon daylight,
envisages building soaring air castles
amidst macrocosms high-rise skies'
timelessness whence humankind
shall humbly recognize enlightened
ceremony of incommensurate
resoluteness & obsessive commitment
furthermost nature's conceptualizations
Building Castles in the Sky Contest -Steven Henderson
Blames and allegations
Conceited self-admiration
Habitual fabrications
Never ending Justifications
Maligning reputations
Backbiting and deceptions
Derogatory manifestations
Avoiding responsibilities, remembering dispensations
Friendships and betrayals
Unjustified humiliations
Killing exasperations
………………………..
This needs proper clarifications
We need moral and ethical upgradation
Focus and proper determination
Instead of shortcuts and distractions
This world is one and we have beautiful relations
Empathising and developing patience
What we are is our creation
Education inspires aspiration
Life is a pledge, we are not on vacation
Race is not just about directions
4/3/2019