Best Hoaxes Poems


Premium Member Voice in My Head


let me be a wanderlust vixen in the vortex ~ 
a voltage liquified to the upbeat vibrato,
versing vehemently in venom-glazed grief, 
and rehearsing your criminalism 
like a serial liar ~
because I am too voiceless 
to command the Monarch of mercury 
to vindict the sojourners 
that lure me to their blind holes,
and vandalise the chromatic criticisms 
that clench me in their cyanide claws,
through the cracks 
branching in the demonised billboard …

Oh scorching serpent,  
slithering with velvet-tongued torment,
never leave me tethered
between the lips of loneliness ~
like a leaflet tucked on
the seaglass screen, 
screaming for those stygian seashells 
to lock my secrets behind 
the bars of misplaced passwords,
because, this pulse of paranoia 
is too pure to palpitate 
in the pixels of poisoned prayers ~
and there is no anecdote 
that annihilates the anxious 
acronyms of abandonment, 
streaming through the realms 
of disposed dimensions.
There are no strings attached 
that hum in hexed hoaxes 
through the violin vendetta 
strumming an acapella ~ 
through the lusty noise 
of monsters longing for 
the loss of my sacred insanity …

perhaps, the voice in my head
is an ode to the orchestrating shadows,
too mindless to manipulate ~ 
          scripted in secluse 
          replaying the ruins,
          paused in the prison 
                  
    a sketch of sleep in splitting senses … 

as bipolar ballads 
tame their schizophrenic strokes ~
when the Maestro of moon 
mediates a megalomaniac 
sonnet of venting slaves,
in the muted matriarchy of mantras 
that keep repenting rage,
in the impulsive incandescence 
of my icy azure ink ~ 
refusing the warmth 
of vulnerable sagas 
that ache to heal me 
and release the 
insomniac coldness ~ 
blanketed with the sparks 
of murky mermaid stars …

I own this label ~
the name of a lunar lunatic, 
and this is a war,
between the sphinx of sabotage 
and the never-ending nocturns ,
as, I remain weapon-less 
like a cardinal iris,
rewriting the rules 
of unshakable madness 
in your maniac meanderings,
        ineffable ~  invisible ~ incurable 
                                   an impostrous
                                                  i n v a d e r …

Premium Member The Coded Mystery

Within a night, a simple crop field has been transformed into a  magnificent work of art, the overnight cryptic formations capture the attention of all as the large section of the crop has been tamped into marvellous morphic designs of art, rings and other intricate accomplished geometric patterns.

Edges so neat, it appears that they have been crafted meticulously with most advanced gadgets, with such precision that even though the stalks are bent, they are not damaged at all.

One scientific theory explains the spinning columns force a burst of air down to the ground, which flattens the crops, yet the myth remains how can a few seconds works of spinning air creates such intricate and absolutely perfect circles, sometimes plain, sometimes circles within the circles with myriads of meticulous patterns within patterns? Some says aliens hands behind, some negates them as man-made hoaxes.

Wonder! People close to those rings of crops, encounter strange physical and emotional reactions as the circles rotate clockwise and anti-clockwise  as unseen hands or remote controls  are controlling them from unknown realms.

From Hollywood magic to spirits of secret weapons, from evidences of UFOs to erudite  explanations, there is something hypnotic in their architectures, in their cryptic presences, in their aesthetic textures for inquisitive minds to continue further quests to unravel their enigmatic riddles. 

© Silpika Kalita

Premium Member Ain't No Humble In a Hustlin Heart

Pride is a motivator,  a stimulator of scarlet soul
an accelerator to the next glorious goal
generator of newcoming awakening
cultivator out cunning the unkind
cutting away all the doubts and flouts, leaving the babel and rabble behind, 
a slayer of beasts and witches, 
pulverizer of all that threatens my wishes,

Pride is an educator,  a teacher whom need not flatter
or conspire to push passion higher, 
a preacher promisin that you can be better than you thought you were,
transformer from the mediocre to a raw reformer
makin my heart the perfect love performer
romanticizer of the love battles that my Lady and I thunder
reinforcer of our durable dreams, encourager for our beautiful hunger,

Pride has weather, moving me to smile at the wind and bear the barbs of error,
an innovator of my instincts,  reflector of bleeding color
It compells me to be a competitor,  a finisher, and a star runner,
my blessings won't bow to humble hoaxes
my talent cannot tolerate the tamming of tragedies
my courage will not cower with the false virtue of humble hypnotism
ain't no way a honkeytonk humbler gonna wear away my sway,
my faith will not stumble upon the stones of humble wastelands,
I wasn't born to walk with humble eyes,
I'm alive to thrive with a sacred strive,
in pride I hear the voice of my Creator say, be great or die!

J.A.B.


The Pirates

The Pirates
 
Pirates were around in the 16th century, they flew the 
Jolly Roger/Scull & Crossbones and would loot and pillage
Ships at sea, for their rich cargo and gold doubloons
Over the years they have moved to land in guises as
Highwaymen and bushrangers, outlaws that steal money
As well as gold and defy the law.  In modern times the 
Pirate has become an even bigger threat to the film and
Music industry by bootlegging copies on videotape and
Disks, robbing performers and actors of their rightful
Royalties.  Now in the days of the Internet, the pirate or
Modern day version known as a scammer, creates
All sorts of evil ways to attain money on hoax activities
Dating sites and social networking even through networks
With items for sale. Yes hoaxes and scams make up about 
Seventy percent of Internet activities, which goes 
Unpoliced, with people losing large ammounts of money
To these unscroupulous people every day. Can they be
Stopped?  The answer is a mystery, as the world is losing
It's innocence to unstoppable theives we call pirates.

Shrapnel of Karma

To the North, South, East, and West...

Geniuses are lost in the jaunty jewels of rakish cads,

The hazard morsel palaver allot odium on idioms...

Rankle virulent mishmash wheeze addle chagrin jives,

Loosing a volley of expletives ordure waft charmed oafs,

Self-iniquity gull maven heresy when blighted wizardry jinxes,

Ticklish cynic infidel swindle dupe cozen duress...

Squall patois and whammy sham schemas wriggle hoaxes,

Charlatans and hoodlums melange to dunce vows,

A shyster unquiet quivers with jester gestures now...

Semi-sacrilege vitiate and endemic jargon raze imps,

This collides as a white energy as dolt hooligan knaves beget...

Colloquial bilge putrefy, the rascals soon flatter us,

Bollix of potpourri lingo wanes to tutelary tongues,

Harlequin coercion argot musical novellas in history,

Pray our shifting shrapnel of karma, varnish boor minds,

Erstwhile, live grenades made of better lives are unvanquished as they are 
thrown by unsung heroes into the North, South, East, and West,...amen...
© R.G. Inigo  Create an image from this poem.

Ageism

a pervasive bareness
walks like an honest lie
on the road to truth   the bone white marble
god oversees the planet green’s woes
a climate change of heart    its manipulations
its intrigues

something remains unsaid when i look back
i think again before i disappear between
bread and god    whosover is stronger
than me   i remained unchained  distrusting
the rules laid  down by  hoaxes    now i
am not me

i am not a god    i am not a thought    only
innocence of an unopened bud.


Satish Verma


Ageism

a pervasive bareness
walks like an honest lie
on the road to truth   the bone white marble
god oversees the planet green’s woes
a climate change of heart    its manipulations
its intrigues

something remains unsaid when i look back
i think again before i disappear between
bread and god    whosover is stronger
than me   i remained unchained  distrusting
the rules laid  down by  hoaxes    now i
am not me

i am not a god    i am not a thought    only
innocence of an unopened bud.


Satish Verma

I'M a Haunted House Sitter, You Bet

Many people have houses that are filled up with ghosts
And the problem they cause is the huge shortage of hosts
For there aren't many willing to tolerate that
Which is where I ride in with my ghost buster's hat.

It was long, long ago when I started to read
All those books about demons and statues that bleed
I became fascinated with all of that stuff
As I learned they were more than just hoaxes and guff.

But I slaved through the years learning everyday skills
While contenting myself with vicarious thrills
Till the time has arrived when I don't need to work
And I'm doing the job fearful owners will shirk.

For a modest retainer I bed myself down
In suburban locations, or sometimes in town
Which the families fled to preserve their own lives
When the husbands at last were convinced by their wives.

And I'll care for the place while concocting a plan
To evict all the 'tenants' just as soon as I can.
All my methods are those that have worked in the past,
From kind words to hard music that's of course set to blast.

In response to your unspoken question I'll say
That the ghosties occasionally come back to stay.
Which is how come "retainer" is the word that was used
And of gouging my clients I won't be accused.

Wipe the Weep

I did some hoaxes in a childhood
My mama beaten me, I cried
In my eyes salty drops
Flows like a river
Later, I wipe the weep
While I’m playing
I fell down , again
My mama beaten me,
I cried too
I thought she is dangerous
But it is not forever
Someone scolded me harshly
For a silly reasons
So I wept harshly
My mama came there and
Wiped the weep.
                             
                                                                         U.S.AURROBINDHAN…

B Times Twenty Tow Equals Eleven and a Half Thousand Flying Frogs But Only In a Sale

The B.1 @ 32 _ and a ?

A cosmetic cosmopolitan army can jump over the gates at an amazing speed and cause a song to burst out of gilded goods. But not only is the trouble centre marked in the paragraph it is also parallel parked between strobe lighting effects and strobe lighting effects are neither knots in a blanket, knees of a giant gnome, giraffes returning on a contraire council boat. Nor are they symbolic of a heap of dried spilt gravy. The journey goes up then down then side to side which is quite perilous for eggs and other fragility. But two little rabbits hopping on a farm make milk from eggs but that is a tale reserved. Hopping heaping having halibut hearing horal hoaxes. And a spinning castle on a pinwheel. Z institutionalism Z at twenty diamond studs in lines of ten.

Life Is Not Easy

Nothing seems as ugly as the life itself
running through the denizens of meager coves

This life is dull, futile and colorless
withered and delusive to the time it ends

And they say this life is easy

Coaxes and hoaxes; this life of yours

Life seems to have given you a sense of urgency
and you say this life is easy

Nothing is more melodramatic than this
nothing, almost nothing

But still we live to say life isn't easy, is it?

April Fools

April is the month for fools,
At least today, the first,
When pranks are played and joking rules 
As logic is reversed.

It’s been around for many years,
Observed both here and there,
With hoaxes ending not in tears
But laughter meant to share.

To get in spirit, pull a gag
To fool your kith or kin.
Shake off those doldrums - time to snag
That silliness within.

Thiwahe Unk Unpi

Thiwáhe u?k'ú?pi (We are family)

We tell no lies we realize the necessity of being true.
We ignite wildfires with sacred words that soothe what troubles you.
We take prisoners not hostages with a promise of release before death.
We burn in lodges and offer what we need so that we may keep on drawing breath.

Loco-motive in thoughts and deliberate in deeds we promote a militant philosophy.
While black snakes slide through our countryside do not stress over dogmatic purity.
Their organized religions and other cruel hoaxes drive too many to abandon hope.
Can we save you brother from becoming just another statistic in a sniper’s scope?
© Unpa Nunpa  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Great Again

My name is Joe Biden and I…

Made The Taliban Great Again
Made War Great Again
Made Taxes Great Again
Made DEI & CRT Great Again
Made Lawfare Great Again
Made Crime Great Again
Made Illegals Great Again
Made Inflation Great Again
Made Debt Great Again
Made Censorship Great Again
Made Transgender Great Again
Made Mandates Great Again
Made Fauci Great Again
Made Elites Great Again
Made Hypocrisy Great Again
Made Dementia Great Again
Made Hoaxes Great Again
Made Babbling Great Again
Made Lying Great Again
Made Conspiracies Great Again
Made Teleprompters Great Again
Made Corruption Great Again
Made Falling Great Again
Made China Great Again
Made BLM Great Again
Made Putin Great Again
Made Gaslighting Great Again
Made Voter Fraud Great Again
Made Hamas Great Again
Made Racism Great Again
Made Hate Great Again
Made Woke Great Again
Make Debates Great Again
Made Anti-Semitism Great Again

But best of all…

Made TRUMP Great Again!

Fright Fest At My Nest

Hallowed Eve's, shuttering fright fest
Stealthy alias proffer lest
Ghoulish mavens chicanery manifest
Dupery, duplicity your mettle to test

Your makeup, clothes carefully screen
Bedeck your mask with orange and black sheen
Your collar coif, your black hair thoughtfully preen
Flowing cape with crafty folds wean

Avoid witches cold, steely stare
Her hexes and hoaxes beware
Stewing kettle with potions laid bare
Bubbling toxins your host will share

Accept your meager fare
Consume your rancid nightmare
Then quietly from my craven lair
With your jouls and remaining wits pare

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