Best Imitator Poems
What smug pseudomorph
inhabits my reflection,
adroitly mimicking my
every manner and expression,
mercilessly mocking me
with flawless simulation?
She is the great pretender;
a master counterfeiter;
a furtive opportunist;
a thieving imitator.
She is a soul-sucking demon
of the gravest degree;
a brazen parasite
feeding on health and ingeny,
pillaging my youth
with savage gleam and glee;
siphoning my precious hollow
of vitality.
Time ticks across my aging face
while our eyes lock in defiance,
and in the end, my spurious friend
will demand my full compliance.
So, with a twinkling eye I wink
at my mirrored facade,
acknowledging this fearsome foe
with a playful nod.
Respectfully reciprocal,
she gestures back to me in kind,
and we part as esteemed enemies,
to my last breath resigned.
I looked off
Into great distance…
Little things
No longer distinguishable-
Those subtle differences
I could never name
Anyway,
Could never paint,
Stubbornly refusing
The prime of my colors,
Shapes and strokes
Of my pithy brush-
My mind a sieve
Of contours
And dripping questions
Muddied
In rivers of endless
Flowing debate…
It is here
At great distance,
Where topics come together
In a somewhat-blur,
Clearer for lack of
Definition,
Sort of like
Closing one's eyes to see more…
Or one's ears
To feel vibration
Of deception,
And sense true
Hearing inside,
And sound an honest
But dull imitator-
The real mystery of
Resonance-atmosphere
One it will never give up-
A jittering tease
Of provocative molecules…
It is here in distance
I come to retrieve myself-
That stick I long tossed
a time ago-
The reminder I placed
In a bottle
And pitched to sea
Way back when,
Now washed ashore
Seal intact-
Ink fresh as ever-
The near twinkle of glass
The same twinkle I sent
On its way…
It is here
In distance
That I find you near-
The macro
Out of the micro,
The world-speck,
Grown universal-
Sails
Not pointed up
Nor down
Nor out
But in-
To the here vastness,
The seal of self broken,
To be read fresh
Back from the dark of searching,
In new light
The star uncovered
I always had
And needed blinding to see…
Venus
outshining all
stellar imitator
cleverly disguising the truth
planet
Explosive and intimidating, only the well to do can bargain
Xenon’s imitator-rare in the mixture of its like
Peacocks so classy in comparison to Turkeys
Evaluation of worth raises the wings of pride, but
New necessarily does not translate to costly
Selects its attraction but never to be selected
Invites without a microphone, advert, plea or agency
Very strict in maintaining an already established level, which is
Enclosed in packages made of precious rares.
Malefactor of our mighty land
Guile do they practice from them, beat
Skank do they drop on our prior rand
Their soul's the people reprimand
Like flies rejecting a rust feet
Malefactor of our mighty land
Drive them from our inunct land
Like Fulani cattle being hit
Skank do they drop on our prior rand
Sweep out before broth turns our hand
Like cobwebs cleaned out of room neat
Malefactor of our mighty land
Their tongue festooned with sweet canard
Embellished with tear thorns their teeth
Skank do they dump on our prior rand
When they continue being rotund
We the citizens turns unfit
Malefactor of our mighty land
Skank do they dump on our prior rand
God's anointed are chosen to stand against
the children of darkness; those devoid of light.
They become the prey, none-the-less, they
choose to stay.
Surrounded by the enemy day and night;
stuck in the lions den; no help in sight.
Lions, tigers, wolves and bears; ready and
waiting to tear them apart. Citizens are
terrorized; some become traumatized,
others desensitised.
But when His anointed call upon Him,
He is their present help, their protector,
their deliverer, their strength and their
peace.
He is the Creator, the one who will fight
the imitator. Whole Cities shall be won,
by just one. The Lord Mighty in Battle.
Creator V Imitator
God created a bee
giving honey for free
Devil, housefly
cholera an' dysentery.
God bestows rain
to sprout the grain
Devil, drought
giving people naught.
God made all rivers
an' aquatic divers
Devil, desert
Thirst an' no dessert.
God made the Sky
so that we can fly
Devil, Hell
Where it is not well!
God alone Above
made piety an' love
Devil, Hate
an' unending fate.
God created Life,
mirth and not strife
Devil, Dearth
an' a coffin wreath.
God created Mars
and all the stars
Devil, Diarrhoea
an' epilepsy of Maria!
God created bowers
with racy flowers
Devil, Thorns
prickly as his horns!
God created a voice
for both girls an' boys
Devil, numbness
an' stark dumbness.
God created sight
in gloom to see light
Devil, Blindness
and infinite darkness!
God created taste
to savour soup o' paste
Devil, things bitter
that tongues fritter.
God created sound
where melodies abound
Devil, Discord
like a broken record.
God created 'Soupers'
never to be floppers
Devil, all so prosaic
blind to poetic mosaic!!!
08th Sept' 2013
Remember that commercial tool,
that fool Ja Rule.
The miniature 2Pac image imitator,
packaged and bought up but in no way similar.
Was Suge or the Illuminati really behind Pac's murder?
Suge, a dangerous man with many enemies,
while east and west were representing territories.
But Ja was a clone of Pac's identity,
now stop and think....
MURDER INC.
You see off the rival companies,
then you replicate what made them pennies.
It's not that Suge wasn't capable,
it's that someone else had more to gain from it all.
Pac was bigger than the whole of Bad Boy,
even with Biggie Pac was able to destroy.
And what gets put to market knowing it would sell,
Ja Rule and his crew, Murder Inc mocking us and well
hidden by the distraction of the stories and conspiracies
but the east coast killed Pac then benefitted financially.
And it says what it says when he went at 50 Cent,
after all Deathrow artists started a new label to be different.
Aftermath, with Dre and Shady became the main event,
once again the east coast was outdone and unable to prevent
being overshadowed and seen as less relevant.
The Game got signed in a shady way,
they made sure that the market would hear him play,
so I don't think it was Suge or the Illuminati,
when MURDER INC. is a name based on mockery.
Business leaders killed 2Pac,
they did it to be the leader of the pack.
In life's' living gutter
I stutter and mutter
Eventually i falter
And did alter
The very life's' meter
That controls the matter
A bitter - like better
That butters the fighter
And makes him go higher
I needed a master
Who'll help my desire
And make me grow
stronger
Who is not a quitter
Even though i falter
And litter my letter
With words of a gloater
He'll bring me hither
Oh! just like a father
But i found another
Relative or father
Linked to my ancestor
Acting as the elevator
Taking me to the apex
floor
Terminator of the
imitator
And Creator the
inspirator
In the Orator
I found a MENTOR
You are an Altruist.
You: ‘selfless because you give”
You Put others in front of you.
Agree with all else’s point of view? You are better than me because of this?
You shun me and call me an egotist?
I am. I am the creator.
Without others, you are nothing. You need others.
Without me, you are nothing. You need me. If To make and create for one’s own self is bad, Then what is it exactly that you so selflessly give away?
Would it be, that without me, You’d have nothing. We’re taught to admire the second-hander who dispenses gifts he has not produced, above the man who made the gifts possible.We praise an act of charity.We shrug at an act of achievement
I am the creator. No. not a recluse. Not selfish.
I am the creator. Non-conformist. Independent.
You? You’re a second-hander, an imitator, dependent
I think. I Judge, I act, I feel.
You, you look around to see what you will, think, say, and feel.
I am the creator.
Without me, you’d have nothing to give.
I am the Egotist
I am the achiever, I am the inventor, I am the salmon, in a society’s current.
I am…The architect…
Pagoda
A sheet of paper
Gamesmanship
OEM factory
Devalue the character
An imitator
For all the weighted years of empires
Stockpiled with human grief
For all the fallen towers of desires
From which love has no relief
For all the cargo of the heart and ships
Tossed and turned where water whips
Across storm battered seas
For all the load of civilizations
Buckling him down to his knees
He staggers on, harnessed to deprivations
Dry sands sucked bone white
Gritting in the eyes of light
No, not the donkey, he carried a savior
On a bed of palm branches and praise
Or the camel, that subtle old imitator
With Kilmanjaro on his backside raise
Even the horse would have bolted free
Saddled so long to the tumor of misery.
But him structure and kingdom fallen
Under a barren weight of other’s greed
Is harnessed to promise and burden
With no reward to restore from dry weed
His life, he eats the scraps of praise, lures
That makes us want to excel, yet deplores
The lost of settled home, the arid sense
Of children littering his shame since sired
At plantations whim, vacuous pretense
Of sexual dexterity that history inspired
And no reward in the imprisoned destiny
Handed to him for a cultural legacy
Do you know the weight of the other
The burden of history on his tired back
The dismantle heart, and no father
To boundary self in a void so black?
Do you understand how he self destruct
Brilliant in what his false history instruct?
He wants more than drugs for the drift
Of night from club to club seeking it
He has no base for promise or for thrift
Stereotypes walled him in, his spirit
Armed to fight, shoots blindly at the alien dark
Killing his own flesh, strayed children in the park
Look at the reward before him
How rich he grows on subculture remarks
The school dropout high on the rim
White status from covert commerce in parks
Where the broken comes to disconnect
From suffering and defeat of intellect.
Father's Day ushered in cooler air
So nice out on the porch
Sun rising in clear luminous glow
Not a red flaming torch
A hummingbird seeks food at blooms
The scent of petunias draws
The first one heard or seen this year
Their beauty puts me in awe
Out on the porch all seems at peace
A place to enjoy the calm
But this world is going to fall apart
Peace before the dropped bomb
Inflation is out of control
Only to get much worse
It can only do so because
Cost of fuel a curse
As everything we touch goes up
And credit card balances
Rise, the poor and middle class'
Debt will advance
Life will be filled with surprise
Will there be hunger rampant
Famine in this fair land (America)
We who feed many, with plants
Like corn, nuts, wheat, peanuts, and rice
Then ship so far away
What will they do, who depend on us?
And on Ukraine this day
The economical balance
Has been broken asunder
Like Humpty Dumpty can't be glued
The world in a blunder
Is it hopeless, are there answers?
I hope so for the humans
Upon this planet earth so green
A child born with acumen
Will one be here to save what is lost
No-we know it won't be
Only an imitator of Him
Will planet earth then see
Oh, yes, they will see for the first time
Who is the One Savor
He will come to set up His Kingdom
Are you ready, don't waver
Sunday, June 20, 2022, Father's Day
acumen- keen insight
The powers that be
love keeping vital things hidden from view,
necessary things we need to know
Survival is up for sell
on the lottery auction block
But the bids are rigged
Who should be granted favor to live,
and who deserves to die
Imitator gods of flesh
believe they have the right to decide
And that they possess the authority
to keep their wicked agenda
hidden from our eyes
But there is a secret weapon
they know not about
Truth is a steel serrated knife
that cuts through the heart
of hard butter lies
Truth is a fire knife
that cuts through those ice cold crocodile cries
Beware powers that be,
suited up in your evil, politricking disguise
Giving us always hard butter lies,
and diluted, soft half-truths
One part fact mixed with nine part deceit
Taking ownership of a manufactured reality
Always wanting to slaughter the flock
and cull the herd
But those wanton intentions will be stopped
by the Word,
Yes, every word of God
Whose voice of Truth is like a steel serrated knife
that cuts through the soul
of hard butter lies
Truth that is like a laser hot, burning knife
cutting through glaciers of frozen spoken lies
I love feeling the melting of the unjust scales,
and the opening of the redeemed eyes
Absorbing sunset colors as I sat,
I heard the soft mews of a mournful cat,
Lost somewhere in the garden near the lane.
For its forlorn owner I sought in vain.
Suddenly there came the sounds of quail calls
Though quail never feed here as evening falls.
Were their cries clues to where the cat was now?
I listened, careful, for the next meow.
Soon came a cascade of solo singing:
Robins, jays, finches sang as if on cue.
Which was that silent creeping cat stalking?
I would bet those birds wanted to know too.
Wrens, larks, and chickadees chimed cheerily;
All the while, nary a bird did I see.
I searched and I called for my feline friend;
Shrugging, I gave up, my search at an end.
I turned back to the house, walking slowly,
When the cat called from the sycamore tree.
I looked up as I thought I heard a dove;
There was the high-leaping sight that I love:
The silhouetted imitator sly
Of the untroubled rosy evening sky;
Colorful, charming, and sometimes absurd,
A fluttering, mimicking mockingbird.