Best Faux Poems
Blowing up things, unfortunately,
Birth’s the printing of endless money.
By Gov’ments and world money makers,
That overwhelm global undertakers.
Yet we cry out that war is unsound,
That it spreads grief and guts all around.
Yet money printed that’s spent on death,
Shamefully gives our markets bad breath.
Which helps to inflate our portfolios,
And house prices rise when their money flows.
Which is a bummer when we are buying,
But when selling our spirits are flying.
That’s the nature of evil Ponzi schemes;
They’re a huge faux dough making machine.
But when interest rates start going higher,
The globalist fear’s become direr.
Yet they’ve pre-planned for any crisis;
Funding Hamas, Hezbollah, and Isis.
So all sides may have weapons for gore,
Creating more dollars; yes, much more!
But faux dough made on printing devices,
Is the main reason for all high prices.
So they help blow up half of creation,
To help lessen that sticky inflation.
But most aren’t aware of the real players,
Who divide and distract behind layers,
With ‘news’ and psyops that raise our ire,
Fooling us to put out the small fires
Oh fie, a poem about money and war,
What is the point of writing this for?
It’s for those with an enquiring soul,
Who care to see that our sons remain whole.
The Pope Trips
Humble
Stumble
The Pope Drops His Ferula
Humble
Fumble
The Pope Gets Caught in His Robes
Divine
Decline
Copyright, August 18, 2014
Faye Lanham Gibson
Pardon me sir, but did you not just break wind?
Pardon me sir, but don't you feel a bit chagrined?
Pardon me sir, but I deem your faux pas mighty gross!
Pardon me sir, but you've left me feeling a bit morose!
Pardon me sir, but on this bus we don't enjoy your sop!
Pardon me sir, may I suggest you de-bus at the next stop!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
Entry for Poetess Darkly's "Pardon Me, Did You Just..." Contest
lids black out and allow me to write
while eyes shut tight
bring back four legged friends sprite
and though many years passed quite
I can remember those precious creatures
who barked at night
howling at inaudible sound or invisible light
casting silhouettes that fight
punctured the air with verbal byte
and now I list long gone
smart pets in alphabetical order – alright?
Baron – substantially German Sheppard
met his demise chasing a car on level road
the advantage overtaken
per vehicle with greater lode
which accidental death
found him buried in an unmarked grave
i.e. underground abode.
Georgie – a combination Boxer and Dalmatian
(with his cropped tail to boot
grew up as my canine brother
an essentially gave up the ghost
from organ failure of one or another.
Lady – this fur certain white German Sheppard
uncertain how, when or what
led to her body to collapse
perhaps while listening to snoop doggy dog raps
found on base near first stair
when rigor mortis set deathly traps.
Ruff – he and his litter mate Teddy
(listed below), an alpha beast o man’s and
woman’s best friend with moments of rage
as applicable to a dog, and seemed
to evince an intelligence like a sage.
Schultz – he apparently vanished in thin air
without a trace, not e’en
a filament of fur like hair
hopefully taken in by another pet lover,
but who knows where.
Shadow – pride of eldest sister,
he succumbed after becoming thermally ill
though diminutive for a black lab,
his absence left a void quite large to fill.
Socrates - dealt with harsh mistreatment
and distemper than tossed out
like trash, mine to sisters,
who nursed him with tender loving care
from his faux paws to a keen snout
which maintained his longevity no doubt.
Teddy – another throw away pet
found at Jacobsburg –
near Easton, Pennsylvania.
one lame leg (damaged
during his puppy hood)
lived til olde age.
my younger sister ( Shari)
brought him and Ruff home,
where their entire life he did stay
inherently evincing intelligence
that happiness found that chance
provided a doting owner this way.
I wander
In barbed circles
Seeking grace
In faux distance-
Looking back
In wry dismay…
My baggage has followed me
WHITNEY 2 - Poetry Contest
~05 Sep 2017~
Exultant excitability chase
Leaving a bad taste
A faux-pas of a celebration
In place of jubilation
Camera smiles full of lies
All the party in disguise
Veiled in ceremonious style
Triumphant distractions to beguile
Hush-hush in a clamorous hilarity
A dressed-up gaiety
Revelling with wine and in consternation
Addled and unable to form an illation
The after-truth hurt multiplied
Feelings of exclusion intensified
The devil has been sold a soul through the back door
Of someone I adore
People often talk about
the heat and torture of hell
I'm currently living in one
with the only excitement here daily
is the Courthouse Bell
Politics hidden like a stitch
People wearing costumes camouflaged
to look like the rich
Last names worn as a badge of fame
Fake celebrities walking amongst
the poor people
While their banking accounts are the same
And she was beautiful,
licking the years from my face
and thankful I allowed such nonsense.
For her,
it was such nonsense
that gifted her with more time.
That rear-scratching against post and fence
as the moon eclipsed another of her hours,
until, I too, knowing we were alone in the dark,
scratched my own rear on the fence.
And I laughed
while she barked,
looking at me with a face that fit her name,
clumsy as she was for 13 years.
I named her Grace
and she named me Lucky (to have her).
To her chagrin she slept mere feet away
instead of between us,
but I made it up to her with endless belly-loving
and even when I think of her now,
I scratch my bum along the fence and laugh,
then cry,
and I could care less about my audience.
there once was a man of great ambition
who pretended to be a physician
his intent lascivious
she was not oblivious
he’s serving 20 to life in prison
For those who lack conviction
Aspirations stay but a mirage
And for those crafting mountains from mole hills
Detriment a deadly barrage
Believers of strange eyes upon them
Flaunt shame as a wristed corsage
And without the courage to soften their hackles
Lie confined in their mind's dank garage
Jongleurs of fabled failures
Treat their worry to massage
Subjecting the rest of their dreadful days
To vexation's entourage
Clever inventors of futuristic fear
Paste pictures to a specious collage
And blame the world around them
Imaginary Sabotage
Wayne followed every traditional route. His ignorant bliss bid others chart his course. Comfort was in knowing all carried precedent form. Locked doors blocking every end. Turn left, then right, again and again. Would they lie? Did they lie?
road trip to nowhere
tradition loss prediction
walking to empty
[Note of feet: Majority of society are followers led by folk they to whom they shouldn't listen. If you can't find your way, you'll end up nowhere. Sort of. ]
For years now, they have survived,
Through deceitful imitations.
Maneuvering within a landscape they
Support, with few limitations.
Yet recently, this crazy fox, seems to be
Running from a pack of legal hounds.
Dodging overgrowth & accountability,
Through some forested, judicial grounds.
This hunt is a lengthy one, stretching
Beyond torn fences and dominion.
As the tireless legal canines progress,
Tailing the scent of lies and opinion.
Ultimately this prey will fall to capture,
Along with its predatory nature, reduced.
While remaining livestock gains some relief,
And the appropriate people, can rule the roost.
lie’s carry away
calm before storm messengers
ocean fronts to desert
The beauty of love is when it is felt by two.
I started tracking down the history
of “whose” fault. Being human, to fault is ok--
This, persistently, leads me to spy
the naked lady, on shoreline rocks,
displaying her rarity with a pink smile.
I desire to achieve the secret
of the infidels. Many times,
I was teased to go for it,
to see and live my dream,
to strive for something pleasant.
Yet, the mystified blue bell, in my patio, stirs
…and sighs; she’s letting me notice her
willingness. Yes, a month from now is winter.
And, my roof will fill with snowflakes
of abundant loneliness, sending me
alone, watching the awesome dancing fire.
Oh, I sense my breath, in silent gasping,
avoid waking the eye of jealousy, but by then
lightning strikes.
What have I done?
My soul trembles. Almost insane I am,
with the madness, what the eyes have seen.
Love hides the infidels, my damn thought.
Finally, here’s where I truly stand: I won’t commit
myself to love, ‘til you’ve loved yourselves, for…
the beauty of love is when it is felt by two.
of part one pertaining to my most recent poetic entry (Inexplicable Quirky Memory Unhinged clasp one) unintentionally got submitted twice, and rather than tamper with attempting to delete delicately, (and probably wreak greater havoc then desirable), this generic human male (meaning thy characteristics of body, mind and spirit) lumped within that general category designated as average.
this chap neither exalts in arrogance, haughtiness, orneriness...nor does emasculate, humiliate, lacerate...his being.
tis modesty i strive for despite the (all to quick to judge via initial virtual impression) predicated on my predilection to populate poems (and/or prose) with ponderous pedantic particular pun dit tree.