Best Fakery Poems
O' cloned creations,
mirroring deceptive diction
scattered in liquified letters,
across android canvases,
here comes the plague of
fabricated foolery,
spiraling in figments of
black and white illusions,
injecting illusive veins
screaming for vanity,
with verses plagiarized
from villainous valleys.
There’s nothing poetic about
the way AI is pickpocketing
rhythmic runes from the
museum of dead poets ~
immortalized on the walls
of glass galleries.
Their sonnets, now imitated,
to adorn artless skies
with stolen synonyms,
weaving soulless symphonies,
to please the apocalyptic algorithm,
unaware of how filtered
procrastinators preying
on pencil-streaked pages
are lonely earthlings starving
for superficial accolades.
I care not for the futuristic
benefits of artificial lies,
yet I see no escape from
these alienated alliterations,
and personified
pathological hypocrisy,
typed behind silver screens,
multiplying metaphors
into robotic ruins,
flowing with
perfectly metered clichés,
coded in complex cadence.
So let me find the inked corpse
of silicon silhouettes,
lost in the labyrinth
of virtual vultures,
flaunting repetitive rhymes
for clueless readers.
Tonight the strawberry moon
frowns at the
neon frequencies
of digitalized fakery,
and my onyx heart aches
for the unknown realms,
where originality floats
as a forgotten fantasy,
fogged behind a fictional facade,
while in silence, stained stars
claim phrases snatched
from the
thesaurus of thieves.
So flee from this venom-less virus,
you and I know better than to
lean on spineless cyborgs,
created mindlessly
from financial felonies.
A poet with a pen that
lacks authentic pigment
is the victimized alter ego of
designed trickeries~
masked as midnight musings.
Fake jewelry fake tree, fake fur, a fun-filled faker’s life
Artificial flowery fakery, fake man, fake wife.
Fake you, fake me, fake compliments, fake boobs they surely be,
Unknown feelings, hidden. Fake you, can you see fake you and fake me?
You see them all the time,
the Stepford wife
and her counterpart,
the bronzed over, buffed high sheen,
man bun walking in skinny jeans,
so tight they squeak...
HIPSTER as they pass on by.
With a flower in the beard,
the artisans musk hinting the air,
bees wax soap and a scent of irony,
the newfound Stepford-hipster syndrome,
Both are the same
but from different sides,
one glossy eyed,
over-medicated,
injected perma- grinned.
The other a living Subaru commercial,
planting city trees,
while in the not so distant future
a real life Bancksy dog will pee.
The urban sprawl,
the shame of it all,
the 1%,
the cost of the gas,
that gets her to the shore
while texting and calling in her oversized Cadillac Escalade,
that was beeped violently at it drove right past
A city zap it rental,
Toyota Prius hybrid sport,
on the Garden State Parkway
with a flowered bearded hipster
driving slowly with thick black glasses,
inside.
senators seeing stapled starkers
Loopholes. Lanky long. Llama Klamath llama please do not lean on those bent gables. For gables are gargling and gargling sounds very eerily similar to a gaggle of geese. Mission endeavour is a plane in a prism. A pram. Circling. But not a curdled crisp. Boot not a rebooted tooting train. For trains are teams and team is neither a steam locomotive nor a mystified heron on a penny farthing. Part board part hoard and a collapsing crash of hands. Figure a fakery is an idiomatic meaning of a didactic form of unilaterally placed flowers. And the beak says hi. But not before the fire arrives in a bowl of plankton. At noon. In a square. If travelling in a circular ship travel light and only carry one tray, one mug, a beaker, a wheel, and a supernaturally charged frog. Interesting to note how the enhanced forms of wit is involved in intergalactic war games. Playing on a two ton tea towel. Very very heavy. Heavy rock and heavy metal is in a school eating cereal at the back of a classroom. Haha. And the deafening boom of bell brings balls to halls and hallowed singing in a line. Youth yawn yearly. And a little micro dot of a hedgehog plays the bass guitar with a sparrow, a nine foot semi eroded dustbin, a mentally disturbed earwig, a corrupted cucumber, and a non digestible house brick. Wow. Such enlightenment from a factory of frozen peas. Hahaha the wine is in the winds. Hahaha message board secret speaking to a pen. Hahaha number of stolen goods dancing with the police. How apolitical and jar of gold coasting coats. Xxxxx Palladian ponies. Xxxxx geometrical gnome. Xxxxx synchronous swanky swans. X uncharacteristically z z z z z. At 689% of a slice of pear cider. Personified x
*Image of Santa Clause, Charlie Calvin by Giphy.
The Glass Orb
In an e'er thus oft agitated contorted crystalline world,
Unconsciously being tinseled by the energies that transpire,
Flurries of fakery enshroud the encircled glassful menagerie.
Indifferent minions from habit, obey the traumatic turbulence,
Revolving in every-which-way of an inescapable no bars prism.
Liquefied mirage a wintry desert of horned camels and pine dates.
Nevertheless, calming ceremoniously exhibits, abruptly emerge.
Ambiguity surrenders gracefully, necessitating the delusion,
There exists a well-treasured keepsake immortalized in a globe.
Adoringly exposed glittering peepers to overindulge in disbelief,
As a seasonal passage liberates a once boxed stored wonderment.
2019 November 25
*1st Place*
A Brian Strand 4 to 14 line
~~Brian Strand: Judged 2021 August 08
*1st Place*
Stuck in a Christmas Globe
~~Bobby May: Judged 2019 December 12
Step off the conveyer belt that
transport you to your daily limits.
Your constant gaze on that
controlling time clock, tick-tock, tick-tock!
It’s time for social distancing, time to go in,
consort with the self, the inner soul!
Stop all of the noise,
the nonsensical consumerism of
junk, soaps, fakery, mendacity, and lies.
When was the last time you peered
at the glorious sun with wonder?
When was the last time a simple kiss held substance,
not just ardent lust and carnal pleasure?
When was the last time you gave meaning to pelting rain?
Feeling the sheer passion in its drops,
charging you with insane vitality,
connecting you with fluid vibes that
you’re still here while others
have gone and going right now
and right now and right now
you’re still here to turn things around!
The wretched hate, the wretched classism
Only God knows how I despise the term, racism!
At the core, I am you, you are me,
expressing in shades of blossoming…blooming flowers!
Expressing in heights of hills and mountains,
expressing in charms of waterfalls and rivers.
Touch with your hearts, not with your hands!
It’s time to go in ...face your fears, your delirium.
Beyond hopeless fear is the arena of expansive love.
Step off the conveyer belt of delirium and
just love each other even after
the plague has drifted and long gone.
He watches the way the world
interacts and ponders the reasons why.
He responds to artistic imagery,
Lost in creativity he dreams often of his own reality,
He acts with haste and risk is routine.
Hair to the wind, his life an intentional spin,
He lives and walks, listens and talks
Happy to commemorate, his mind compulsive to contemplate...
Is the universes size infinite?
Atoms cling together...
Neutrons and Protons randomly whip around the nuclei
with the one oddity, being nothing the absurdity...
Infinity also being a normality or illusion
The infinite reality could be an oddity or
falsity of infinite realities of infinite infinities..
Is vision along with your auditory perception real
when the universe truth could be soundless
formless nothing but emptiness and nothingness.
Intellect and knowledge a certain fakery
only measurable creativity.
In our own imaginary pretentious perception
of custom and race, another false reality of space.
Or is it now imaginary created by falsity
devised as normality just as a Tv.
A conundrum of conflict sanity to insanity
He travels contemplating the complexities
in humanities innumerable technologies.
Humanity distracted and refracted so
disconnected from the reality
Rather led by faculty they will continue
Desecration and obliteration
Which leaves one more reality...
Annihilation...
Cobblestone Echoes
by Odin Roark
Ancient stone
keeper of darkness
of auras reaped from high seas
vast is your harvest
from earth rumblings beset by molten tears
to charred obsidian made hard
glass reflecting where primates once clamored upon
From paws a running
sniffed calloused drippings in peril
where sandal swathed footsteps
dodged blade and spear
as wash water dumped from high
added slippery footing for predators ever lustful
ever hungry
ever historic
Now the high noon of modern life
the wonder among your melodies
amidst recent fabrications emulating your path
you the wrinkled skin spirit of ancient masons
who served sun-baked feasts
from the past of pasts
Alas…
Genuine micro-canyons of irrigated seed and drift
send the spirits aloft from once grasses high
reminding us that while calendars may crumble
time’s enduring stone of old remains original
transcending the language of vowel and consonant
acknowledging the reach of sentient eye to eye
the whispered caress beneath a Nike sole
sharing the tongues of old
echoing the murmurs of weary travelers
the severed limbs of warriors
the rivers of plasma-red passion
polishing fossils within
within
within
Yet many choose faking Nature’s setting
even making ready counterfeit copies
to pacify the blind living without preference
massaging serpentine monsters of ignorance
whose Gucci laced feet now prance upon this facsimile
sold as make-believe
glittering’s bondage
hidden in fakery
having not a clue of the Carthaginians
or Mediterranean isles of blood and sweat
from whence it all came
For like Rodeo Drive’s cobblestone plazas
where modern celebrity prisons of today
masquerade as credible reality for borrowed tomorrows
knockoff décor identity everlasting
unaware their own history
reaches inevitable fade out
may never know the hidden messages
Perhaps…
The subtle cacophony of shadow and whisper
cobblestone’s enigmatic infernal
made orchestral for those who can hear
those who dare see through the darkness
those who can be moved and touched by
shadowed silence protected with truth
will experience the magic
How few seem to hear the deafening message
Driving down that familiar road,
For miles and miles and miles it goes,
You forget about keeping your eyes on your travels,
On that same old bumpy patch of gravel.
That highway stretches from your teenage woods
On the passage way near your worthless bale of goods
Speeding past boring scenery,
Near the knoll of fast girl greenery.
Don't fall asleep, it's later than it seems,
You don't want to be caught in a wet dream.
The rain falls every now and again
So both hands on the wheel and until then,
Keep your phone unlocked and ready to call
The heartbreak police, if your soul does fall
Into the broken down lane, where passerbys smirk
And your passenger pretends you're not really hurt.
There's potholes down by the seven year stretch,
So swerve to avoid them with lifelines to catch
You'll find lots of help, on mile marker two
Right near the corner of the free girl zoo.
But you've driven this rig since before your first spring,
When you ignored all the signals and didn't answer it's ring.
On this patch of land, the lights are on dead
While visions of fakery dance in your head.
Now it's time to trade in, time to give up
On smiles and giggles and laughter and love.
You put on many miles, changed many flats
But the old dying ship, won't give anything back.
The seats full of tears and years of abuse
There's only so much one driver can lose.
It's time to sell it, before it's too late
Even winners will lose, if only to fate.
Punch the button dial 9 three times
“Hello This is the emergency line”
“Excuse me yes id like to report a crime”
For you see this man took something that was mine
He took my hope, my trust, my love my time
Confused me with fakery bull and lies
Counterfeit love right in front of my eyes
Guess he thought I’d never get wise
He always waited until it was after dark
When he knew he had fooled my heart
Creeping in, trespassing my property
Taking things that weren’t meant to be
Made me break promises I’d promised to keep,
That no man would cause me tears and lose me sleep
Should call him Spider-Man with the web he spun
His art of deception is second to none
Split personality and divided attention
He needs redemption redemption redemption
So can I have a crime number now Uve heard my statement
Need to phone my life insurance to claim that payment
If my life’s been ruined do you think they will pay out?
If I break it all down and lay it out
Put it into words and say it out
Bag it all up and weigh it out
Insured my life when my life was mapped out
Before u was exposed and before u tapped out
Untick the terms and conditions it wasn’t genuine cover
That diamond turned out to be cubic zirconia
Surely a complete lie must be insurable
Like cheating ways are practically incurable
And maybe I don’t know the law atall
And maybe I just look even more a fool
But how else will he be held accountable
When His part in my demise is undoubtable
He kidnapped my hope and murdered my dreams
Denied me my future ripped it apart at the seams
Left me only with broken pieces
What I thought was smooth was actually creases
If a judge won’t be the one to pass a sentence
And ur ears are deaf to my ten Cents
try to convince us it’s all rumours and nonsense
But u know what it is that’s on ur conscience
And when ur time comes ur world will crash down
When what goes around makes its way back around
And when it’s you being played and ur not the one that’s winning
When ur hearing words but you’re not sure of their meaning
When u can’t work out what’s real and what’s deceit
When u start to feel the first pains of defeat
And I hope when it comes it will hit u hard
The ultimate punishment for love fraud
Scam the scammer, fool the fool
Switch it up and change the rules
Ideomotor Effect
Spirits cannot share information,
Don’t be fooled by false witness.
Everyone is capable of psychic energy,
It’s just subconscious, no more no less.
Ouija is controlled by greater will,
Like a phenomenon or ideomotor effect.
Physical presence, not spiritual presence,
Stay rational follow minds context.
Sceptics develop belief through fakery,
Ghost hunters heighten reactive emotions.
Fear creates anxiety and cold terror,
Darkness perfect for conceptual notions.
Paranormal, spiritualism is big business,
Should I keep an open mind.
Show me the evidence, show me the proof,
My natural antithesis does not rewind.
Mongrel mongeese can fly at very high altitudes but dome headed calves cannot as they must wait until they are 672 years old. Fly fly flight then. Oh great. See how the waving whales chanting circulating wisdom in a foam. And bathing basking. The hypothesis of a 5minute triangle is a good idea for a specific dialect to be spoken. The noises of a parsnip parsonage swell. Ingest not a seabird sandwich. Opening in a cave a smugglers' house. Housekeeping in a coven. Hahahaha dripped fondling fig figurehead fantastic fakery. Hahahaha and a mealworm singing opera to a friend of a prawn cocktail. Weary wearing weather. Washing. Xxxx gastronomically z z c y g z
The Braille of Cobblestone
Keeper of darkness,
of auras reaped from high seas,
vast is your harvest
of earth rumblings beset by molten tears
to charred obsidian made hard glass.
Such reflects primate-memory
once clamored upon by man and beast running,
dodging blade and spear
as wash water dumped from windows high
added slippery footing for predators ever lustful,
ever hungry,
ever historic.
At the high noon of one’s life,
we wonder among your melodies
amidst recent fabrications lining your path.
you the wrinkled skin of ancient masons
serve sunbaked feasts
from the past of pasts.
Your micro-canyons of irrigated seed and drift
send spirits aloft from grasses high,
reminding us that while calendars may crumble,
your stone of old remains young,
transcending the language of vowel and consonant,
acknowledging the touch of phantom eye to eye,
even whispered touches beneath a Nike sole
speaking the tongues of old,
echoing the murmurs of felled travelers,
the severed limbs of warriors,
the rivers of passion red,
polishing fossils within.
Still…
Others would fake Nature's setting,
even make ready counterfeit copies
to pacify the blind living without preference.
Such serpentine monsters of ignorance
whose Gucci laced feet now prance upon your offspring
sold into bondage, interspersed among the fakery
having not a clue of the Carthaginians
or Mediterranean isles of oar-navigated ports.
For like Rodeo Drive's cobblestone plazas,
where modern slavery prisons of today
masquerade as knockoffs once authentic for tomorrow,
your history is reaching fade out,
sans your hidden messages,
your quiet cacophony of silence
made orchestral for those who can hear,
those who dare see through the darkness,
those who can be moved and touched by
the brail of cobblestone.
cellophane world...
procuring accouterment
of this and that from hither and thither
the consumeristic narcotic
rages through our pulsing veins
as we desperately try to pull on the ever-loosening reins
growing up all those years ago was easier, I do confess
with hardly a hint of all this materialistic excess
for money was tight
but the values and principles instilled in us were right
values to cherish the human-ness of all
the simple pleasures of this life
beyond the haute-couture and glittering flim-flam
for what is all this
if not a carefully constructed sham
so as I walk along the aisles today
I cringe at the so much designed for the so few
while the multitudes of the teeming people
stand at the wayside
disconsolately deafened by the tolling bells of the steeple
and yet...
there must be a better, less ostentatious way
to live and love and cherish and embrace
each other, distanced from the plastic fakery that we witness each and every day
for the truth that rages deep within every heart
yearns for a coming together of souls
a bounteous celebration of togetherness, a simple bond
of people sharing those intrinsic values
of
love
compassion
comfort
these are the simple yet ever-so elusive desires buried within each and every heart of ours
while we scurry around like giddy inebriated plunderers
innured to the passing of the moments and months and weeks and hours
so
could it be too much to call for restraint
to merely sit back for some time and quietly reflect
on
what is true
and
on what is the essence of being alive
in this glittering mirage that is the place
this world
this fairground of tricks and of treats and of designer labels and the branded name-tag
that mutilates our spirit while our shopping bags sag
maybe
we will then see that the truth is so much simpler
to love and be loved for who one truly is
for to be simply human
is what we desperately miss...
Trepidation is no transition and translation is no transaction. In depth discussions summarise no further duties. And furthermore the radio airwaves are clogged with glowering spins. School not a heifer's brew child. Arrives on a bridge to glittering chimes. Noon with no spoon. An atlas of atmospheric aromas and added adjustment plus a measurement of adjudicated will of a populas popping and looping over to create ley from whey. But no curds. Involvement of law enforcement officials is a paid objective in reality a response on a sea shell flag tile. Whereupon a slug reclines sipping tea. And jugs of bug related juice. Outside outnumbered outswayed. And a cup of choice. Arriving is the guilded guide of offices. Under. And thick is the air. No it is simply no use. Fragmented fortresses fakery foregone forming fleeing facial facilities. Gone gone going gone so good good good. Statue of horse always stood proud. Yet no pride today. Pivotal privatisation prolonged pain potently. Heaping a cart. Having a canter. Hahahaha a great broom in a brook. Hahahaha and now neigh. Hahahaha eruptions of embankment hahahaha faren wel vale xxxx z cosmopolitanism ~