Best Fallacy Poems
A fallacy, that every 'once upon a time'
is a beautiful fantasy, for some hold lies
Fairytales have a hero, but also a villain
masked in sheep's clothing as a disguise
Red Riding Hood defeated the Big Bad Wolf
Billy Goat Gruff butted a troll to the stream
Simba overthrew Scar, vile imposter king
People are not always what they seem
A fancy dressed pirate was Captain Hook
Voldemart was He Who Must Not Be Named
Shere Khan, a snake slithering in the grass
Cold-hearted scoundrels should be blamed
Crows cluster to feast upon weak and dying
Sharks speed to feed in frenzied gathering
Wicked queens and witches jostle for power
boasting in gibberish while foolishly blathering
With evil intentions, dark minds contemplate
lurking in shadows while stalking their prey
for vengeance and spite, they congregate
water holes are dangerous on any given day
A real hero has no need to don a serape
Doesn't wield a sword with sharpened blade
A person with courage can dip a nib in ink
Dress in pink ruffles, wear her hair in a braid
Never tempt fate by entering a dragon's lair
Do not willfully step into the nest of a viper
or praise a chamaleon for its deceitful charade
while he plays the luring tune of a Pied Piper
Think carefully before you fork your tongue
or write words that can easily be misconstrued
Throw off the sinister attitude of a blackguard
unless you take delight in being labeled "crude"
The home divine
I thought was mine
And studded with jubilation,
Was not my own
The lid was blown
A refuge with a misconception.
The road taken is not as straight and,
Narrow as we think but a,
Huge mountain that we must climb.
As in life we have many journeys,
That we must take.
The sun brings hope in the future,
Showing us the way.
The moon holds my dreams and,
Fantasies within my soul,
Showing me what is within reach.
The sun and moon inspire our inner,
Beliefs into our presence of mind,
Of how we perceive ourselves.
Knowing this we experience the,
Twist and turns in these journeys,
Realizing what we believed is not true.
Is it conceivable to understand,
Everything we believed is now a lie,
A fantasy, or just in our imagination,
That we dream about.
Is this the fallacy of our Beliefs??
Life killed the dream that she dared to dream.
Life gave her change,
And Change killed our poor Fantine.
Dark days,
Long nights,
Cold sweat,
Firm hands,
Callous Cackles,
Tooth ache,
Swollen Sores,
Heartbreak.
Between Life and Death was the only choice,
She prayed that death would strike her by surprise.
If not for her prize,
The fruit of her womb.
Whilst working till she gasped her last breath,
It seemed she lamented her life away.
What had she left after such mistreatment?
Destroyed pride,
And if trust were left in the farthest corner of her soul,
It was to be in man?
Man who drove her to insanity.
Or A Man, a Man with enough pity?
If not for mistakes, we could live our dreams,
Watch them morph into realities,
And into little perfect stories,
With flowers, sunshine and happy endings…
But in the midst of wars,
Spiritually, emotionally and amongst humanity,
The brothers are weak,
Whilst the enemy gains strength…
Hope appears to be dead?
The truth is,
What kept my Lady,
Kept her going for as long as she did,
Was the strength from one greater,
The One that knew her hearts desires,
The One who heard her deepest fears,
The One who daily dried her tears,
The One who took her home to rest.
I'm drowning in it
Drifting here and there
All this emotion
A life of chaos
But who can I tell?
They will not understand
How do I explain?
I'm drifting in an ocean
Anchored down by a mere thread
An unreliable chain
That I wish I could just break
I want to be washed away
Yet so many want me to stay
But only if I hide the true side of myself
And protect them from this incredible mess
The grace to forgive
Does not mean it’s forgotten
The heart remembers
Scar tissue ever present
Yet it pumps out crimson love
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Personal Space Cannot Exist
There are chances or collisions
One never plans, never truly possesses
Alone, but with quarks and protons …
What matters then our private spaces?
Private alone the mind of the Space Magician
Whence comes the contours of our destinies
Whereby Little Space and Mighty Space breathe as one
Yet One is without clay ears and clay eyes
Touch, trespass, touchiness, trial;
Vanity, variety, vortex of violence
Mimicking proton and anti-proton in some vain vial
Our cell-sites and web-sites exaggerating difference
The message of space is as personal as that of Time
Educated, satiated, rich or otherwise – your atom is but mine
"As a person sheds worn-out garments and wears new ones, likewise, at the time of death, the soul casts off its worn-out body and enters a new one" - Bhagvad Gita 2.22
~*~
Death
is a
misnomer
Autumn leaves fall
only to be born
again when spring arrives
Body dies but eternal
soul is reborn in new body
If not reborn, it goes to heaven
and lives with God as soul without body
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Cry not over the death of near and dear
for they never died. God merely took
away the cloak they were wearing
and gave them a new body
Look within, try to see
the soul - real you
Then you will get
salvation
from death
pain
~*~
18th Feb, 2022
For,
Constance La France
E Forms- Etheree
As the weather chooses its flavour for the hour,
Stubble-ended wood shaves itself on the layers of unseen ground.
Synthetic puke seeps through pores seeking to devour
Every tiny, curled hair floating in the murk around and around.
Pool party skies reside a millimeter higher than the tallest fingertip:
Leftovers infect this mass of last meals passed on.
A spindle of cloth runs out with time enough to graze my lip
And still no locks of winter-lived years could sink a single talon
Into the darkest dark of fleeting moments taken from a fork.
Shall this be all that has come from years after that first unscrewed cork?
A broken lover was asking for a haughty rose
Through the dark of a past
I too rejoice the treacherous effort.
Our mind is capable of passing beyond
the dividing line we have drawn for it.
Beyond the pairs of opposites, of which
the world consists - other, new insights
begin." --Herman Hesse, on Thought "
Controlled Fallacy
I could be an enchanted dragonfly,
the one, in a child's storybook
that lets fairies,
full of magic ride on its back.
I could turn into the wicked dragon
that lurks
in all the kingdoms and fiefdoms
or the brave knight
that rescues the poor distressed damsel;
the one who lives happily ever after,
thereafter or,
I could be her private aspirations.
Her flight from passion before the rot sets in.
I could be her secret hideaway, where
she touches solitude with reverent fingers.
I could enter reality at this point
so focused that the dragonfly would tumble
into a shriveled heap,
or become a pauper, sitting
on a cold and wind blown, treeless street.
I could be a modern day Cinderella with
a pumpkin Rolls Royce
and stained glass slippers
or,the best friend of an
English Lord, or the maid who
every single morning
brings him his breakfast
of kippers.
But I don't want to be an
enchanted dragonfly.
I want to drive to some remote reality
in a real Rolls Royce
I want - I want controlled fallacy.
I want caviar- not kippers
I want a flowing negligee and
maribou-feathered high heel slides.
I want to be that enchanted princess
who touches solitude with
reverent fingers.
I want to be the smiling
sole, possessor
of a single, stained glass slipper
Suzanne Delaney
Fantasy Contest - Giorgio V
living in this flagitious society life becomes numb
yet we extrapolate irrespective reality till we become dumb
mental break downs and frivolous exercises of intellectual contempt
permeates a paradigmatic volition of unparsimonious content
we are axiomatic in our subjective minds as we conceptualize truths
but preconceived notions poison and impede the capacity of our fruits
berayed by the thick insulating cover of vitriolic and obligatory words
you can see with more than our eyes and hear more than whats heard
virtue and value will hurt you in battle
as expression and intention fight for domain
necessity and certainty like humans and cattle
like pride and despair both going insane
miraculous recoveries and extravagant claims
cognitive faculties misfiring as the mind refuses to aim
lost in translation as we wander our brains
a mental castration of parabolic restrains
feelings, opinions and emotions all subjective and chained
like a broken track on a bridge made for a 4,000 ton train
we refuse to abide by the laws in our hearts
as we accept solipsism in whole and in part
judgmental determinist with a maniacal skill
to violate logic and ignore the freewill
you recapitulate hate and promulgate lies
like maggots on a carcass embedded by flies
you are dead in your thoughts and dead in your walk
Trace the outline of your body with a forensic white chalk
to be dead in your mind is to be dead inside time
and if life is subjective theres no reason or rhyme
Does the utopian human not salute,
The ideal person, right and sensible?
Which psychologists can easily foster and describe,
In certain personality models which are not dispensable?
The utopian human stands to beg,
The question posed by psychologists,
“What is your character and personality?”
Their good models encourage an interactive dexterity.
When a business or organisation invests in people,
They’re hoping to entertain a certain personality;
One that's open, giving and receptive,
Not one that deceives by theology or has religious animosity.
Your space - your problems and your pleasures,
Must be respected in a mandatory fashion,
Not differentiated away from to illuminate,
Someone else’s spirituality and god passion.
That morality exists necessitates the virtues,
Which today can be separated away from beliefs,
But religious demands should not go unquestioned,
As a platform without judgement relief.
Christian fundamentalists are either,
Right or wrong in the head,
And it is very much apparent to me,
That today they should be being lead.
Their kids can be not loved at all,
For their intellect, past-times and emotions,
By parents who will only talk to them,
If they do their daily devotions.
When you look out on life from its precipice,
If god is there, you will lack,
The speech, the confidence and the creativity to mark,
The land upon which you will embark.
Enculture yourself in human principles -
The church’s toleration of them is slight;
I don't believe agnosticism is an option,
If you want to be in the light.
Atheism and humanism let you become a better person,
And give you moral fibre every day if you would like;
But Christianity’s focus is on godliness and evangelism,
So atheism’s a better cognition, ‘cos agnosticism’s just not right.
humanity can live without planet earth
but it should prepare for it
humanity can live without the sun
but it should prepare for it
humanity can live without the universe
but it should prepare for it
humanity can live without food
but it should prepare for it
humanity can live without oxygen
but it should prepare for it
Humanity can live without other creatures
but it should prepare for it
Humanity can live without leadership
but it should not prepare for it
This is Nudity of truth
Falsehood of fallacy
Note: This poem is dedicated to all those who engage in hyper-complex thinking about human life
Life so complicated, so vindicated
Life never so simple in the dimple
Smiling, pining, piling up pressure in indicated
Moments and torments in a pesky pimple
Germinating on a face hitherto serene
Driven bonkers when complication that conquers
Spaces and territories in a tropical rain with a plethora of unseen pain
When cash without a slash tinkers with bankers’
Reluctance can’t advance a loan
To committees desirous to bankroll
Matrimonial negotiations, kitchen party bones, clones and tones in the right zone
Where parents, relatives and friends in Africa play a vital role
In initiating, facilitating and cementing the unity of purpose
Despite misgivings, obstacles, hurdles and mountains to climb
Valleys to scale, funds and resources to source
With a view to ascertaining life in full bloom in time
Minimizes complications and complexities
For me, my mind and my kind
At home, in church, at work where facilities
To ride on the rind of bliss rewards the blind
Who nurture hopes of bliss
Cos their disabled eyes see in the dark
Better and far more distinctly than the eyes that miss
Spotting the joy spark
That enlivens propinquity where human warmth extends
Beyond distance and circumstance
In which humankind amends ways joy tends
Beyond the heart’s circumference to adopt a stance
That simplifies human interaction
Cutting out pretence
To take the bold action
That considers human initiative to love not as a complication sentence
But a blessing to behold
A treasure to nurture
To open up hearts without feelings to withhold
Lest society should fear or suspect moral fibre capture
As promoted in circles prude
To slay sentimental expression
Viewing love display as rude
Thus plunging society into a deranged depression
That pretends love is an illusion
Best concealed in hermetic drawers
Where skeletons fed up with delusion
Explode and implode like volcanoes in the face of fallacy growers.