Best Impersonator Poems
Smiling sultrily, he
Struts, a tattooed Elvis,
Seducing us with song.
Springing from the stage, he
Sweeps us into frenzy.
Success seems sure when it
Sounds like “J.D. Fortune.”
(I first heard of this sexy Canadian singer in 2005 when I watched
him win the CBS reality show: Rock Star INXS. He was then a member of
INXS on and off for several years. Previous to his win, he had actually
been an Elvis impersonator and I've only recently read this AFTER writing this poem!)
check him out singing his famous song Pretty Vegas with Dave Navarro: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e4kJhQJqr7U
Written 4/25 by andrea dietrich
for the Let's Pleiades Contest of nette onclaud: theme - Masquerade
He called me Remxy,
Actually that's his previous one,
I know he was furtive,
about his cold feelings towards me,
he felt completely nothing for me,
yet ! he lied,
should I hold on?
it is something that seems
like an intractable problem,
he does not seem to realise,
that I am here fir him,
He only sees her shadow hovering,
in his dreams.
it seems I was a substitute,
more so,
I was just an impersonator,
because even after I left ,
he never seemed to bother to call,
he never realised that he had lost an unfound species,
the unique species,
he never felt he had smashed a beautiful Spanish guitar,
it was a lesson learnt the hard way for me.
"The Impersonator"
Discovered on karaoke night
A few friends gave him a dare
To imitate the star he thought most of
For a hundred bucks if he cared
He got up on stage and sang with a whimper
It was his first time under pressure
To the boos and the heckles
This was not in good measure
With nothing to lose he got rid of his fright
Before he said a good night to all
He picked up the pace, to Usher he would sing
That is if he had the gall
Getting better he was with the rhythm
Showing people what he hadn't given them yet
A well oiled machine oh yes
He was determined to win that bet
Dancing around with dynamic class
There was no stopping him now
His associates took big drinks of the liquor
Losing all that money they were going to have a cow
His voice box was a storage crate
Filled with tons of jovial surprise
'Give me that money' he said
That they did with new found awe in their eyes
He was good they retorted
You should go on tour
Unless you have other talents better than this
Say a desk job somewhere, but god what a bore
He went around impressing people
The man and the image were becoming closer
For the joy how it started
It was actually hard work to be good and not a joker
There were no problems being an entertainer
Some time went by with growing popularity
Admiration built on another person's fame
There was no problem leaching serendipity
Then one day he grew so big
And the man himself showed up
He was about to knock him in the face
But saw he was still just a pup
A youngster with nothing else to do
This moment built up consternation
Stealing efforts off the artist's image
He hoped that it started out as admiration
It did though, so he punched him not
In fact he started blushing, for imitation is flattery
A major reason he picked the man in the first place
The issue resolved itself without assault or battery
They decided to go on tour together
The differences would be minor
Covering his sick days and vacations many a time
The copy cat would not live finer
For a long time they lasted taking over for each other
The secret would go with them forever
To give them a bond of deception on the audience
Their ties no one could sever
The doppelganger does exist
less than an inch from the skin
while at a distance that defines
a mirror set defying lies
without remorse of pleasantries
stacked upon the need to please
tearing down a false balm
constructed by safety’s calm
waiting for insanity
demanding dues of the will
impersonator that’s all too real
staking claims when strength wanes
this pressure keg that must reveal
the opposite of banal states
these humors damned without regret
by opposites of the flesh.
The Ancient Mariner of the parliament square
Like the mariner he was, a scrawny, skin unfair
A loner with a glittering eyes, possibly a bit touched
A Clint Eastwood impersonator look, he seemed to bear
But a powerful speaker than professional speakers.
Urging world to live a more Christian life cleaner
Lived and slept outside the parliament for a decade
In his hand holding, with broad thrust, a loudhailer.
Against Western groups killing thousands Iraqi people
He fought and spoke for 3,600 days like an eagle.
Of traffic, clock bangs and the hordes of visitors.
When Haw at his mouthpiece, all the voices disabled
Haw had a remarkably insistent, irritating voice
And Mr. David Blunkett was irked and annoyed
Reacting to 2005 organized crime And Police Act
It was “using a maul to crack a nut” to destroy.
The More Brian noise caused with his loudhailer
The more MPS demanded to remove the bother
But the word “Bother” sounded too weak
Compared to warmongering by Blaire & B-liars.
With an Antipodean woman Haw shared war choirs
With his trademark cries of “ Tony B-liar, Tony B.I.A.R”
When another woman started up, public was grateful
Sharp as seamstress’s needle was Sheila’ s crisp voice.
Despite his Left-wing favor, he was a Right-wing figure
A man, standing up to the state, never thought to disfigure
Brian Haw had plenty more fuel for all his protests
The war in Afghanistan and the war in Iraq to configure.
When Milosevic was tried at the Hague for war crimes
He said, “why not to try Blair and Bush’s Crimes?”
Like Coleridge’s haunted mariner: long, lank & brown
He had one vice: tobacco, he died of lung cancer prime.
+++
March 12, 2014
Dr. Ram Mehta
Form: Rubaiyat
Contest: One Against Many by Joe Maverick
Whose dog is it? Someone queried.
The rest of the neighbors laughed.
Look at his colorful tam
Look at his dreads
It is Marley’s dog
Or an impersonator, someone suggested
It’s only been a little over 4 months since you’ve been gone;
That’s 126 days or 3,024 hours or 181,440 minutes…much too long.
I miss you sister, each and every day.
I wish I could hear you laugh and the things you’d say.
The way you’d say “awkwaaarrrd” and “chit”;
Miss your friendship, your love, your humor…all of it.
You were always just a call or text away.
I miss the long talks we had nearly every day.
I miss your “Lucy” stories and all the laughter;
You would do something funny and tell me after.
Sister, you were my best friend and always there.
So much has transpired, things I wish with you I could share.
I want to tell you about our latest Vegas trip and the show,
Purple Reign, you would have loved it, I know.
I told the Prince impersonator that you were Prince’s #1 fan.
I told him you went to heaven; he kissed my cheek, what a compassionate man;
He said he was so sorry, hugged me and said, “Sweetie, God bless you”.
I felt your presence and knew you were up there smiling too.
Every time I hear a Prince song, I say, “Hi, sis”.
I know you’re living in heaven, in eternal bliss.
Knowing you’re with our Lord and Savior in Heaven,
Makes my grief and sadness feel like someday it may lessen.
Memories of you, sis, are etched forever in my heart and mind.
A sister and best friend like you, I will never find.
You were unique and one of a kind.
You left so many friends and loved ones behind.
We miss you and wish you were still here.
Yet, having faith in our Lord makes it clear
That one day we will see you again.
It wasn’t goodbye, instead it was “until we see you then,
In Heaven,” you’ll be there to greet us at the pearly gate.
When God calls me home, I won’t hesitate.
Until then, I’ll miss you sister, each and every single day.
Please watch over your loved ones, I ask and to God I pray.
Cripple
Nature made me incomplete
She failed to give me two good feet
The left one’s fine,
It’s well in line
But the other is rather bittersweet
It twists around to a great degree
A much disgruntled employee
Of a brain as quick
as a lightning stick
But useless just below the knee.
A childhood spent in pain and traction
And futile physiotherapeutic action
Didn’t help a jot
just hurt a lot
To the surgeons evident satisfaction
“Crippled crippled look he’s lame
Hop-along Cassidy is his name!”
I died inside
hid and cried
hung my head in mortal shame
Very cruel the other kids could be
jeered and laughed and bullied me
Until I wondered if
God had blundered
And so resolved to go and see
I did my best to meet my maker
But became a recuperator
In hospice bed
Far from dead
A suicide impersonator
There came an angel in disguise
A teacher who didn’t instantly despise
Nor ridicule
A crippled fool
But tried instead to empathise
She gave me books and made me read
Seeing clearly an inner seed
As yet unfilled
underskilled
But glowing there, a burning need
She opened up my narrow mind
Allowing me to leave behind
A crippled past
A plaster cast
That held me in it’s prison bind
Now I write with creativity
And with much publicity
bathed in admiration
bought in proliferation
treated with tender sensitivity
And though I have a leg still game
It seems that popularity and fame
Make folk forget
My foot’s offset
And I am still inherently lame
It's the core of impartiality,
The depth of equality.
None out-does the other.
That's about me and her.
We impersonate love and court it fully,
Dissociate from cogs and man made pulleys.
Look at her whiten jealousy,
As i cut off lusty fantasies.
Our acts are real,
Perfect two way seals.She locks i unlock vice-versa,
Two compliments no trespassers.
We handle problems personally,
Make decisions Biblicaly.
True verses from songs in our hearts,
Love heals lies hurt.
By M.O.O aka Carswell the impersonator.
I was in a panic my heart beating rapidly
At the thought of losing it all.
I looked around and what I found
Were angels starting to fall.
Warriors from up above
Sent to help the willing,
But what they had wasn’t enough;
to stop humanity from killing.
For they were corrupt and unjust
In what they have learned
They didn’t realize that all of their sinning;
Was going to get them burned.
Here are all of the angels;
Working hard to save
These people who just laugh at death
And the gift in which he gave.
There was an angel so beautiful,
One I couldn’t see- for there was
A bright white light
Surrounding him and me.
He kissed my temple and he whispered
Everything was going to be okay.
I felt the warmth of the message
That he tried to relay.
A peace washed over me as I realized;
I had spoken to God,
I watched the dirty looks and heard the snickers
Of those who found it odd.
For in this age it is impossible,
To speak to the creator,
It must have been a demon in disguise
A great impersonator.
They were wrong
I have never had such a great feeling,
Energy passed through me
And healed the pain I’d been concealing.
I will always remember
The day that I had needed
A miracle from up above
My prayers had been heeded.
Kennedy didn’t die in Dallas
And Elvis lives outside of Memphis
You see they got sick of the guff
And took identities that were good enough
So if you see an impersonator in their act
Looking good as a matter of fact
It may be the real deal
Hiding in plain sight comfortably real.
© Paul Warren Poetry
It has been brought to my attention by Elvis fans,
not to mention a slew of phone calls from irate Elvis impersonators
that my last poem was very insensitive.
For that I would like to apologize.
I would also like to set your minds at ease and inform you
that in no way were any corpses harmed in the writing of...
"Are You Lonesome Tonight" (AKA Digging On Elvis)
Although Elvis didn't hold up so well
on the trip back to Graceland...
As luck would have it though Walmart
was having a special on large trash bags.
Two for one! And the environmentally friendly ones too!
We all know how hard it is to find those on sale!
Now where was I...
Oh Yea!
So we were able to get every last piece of Elvis
safely back to his final resting place.
Once again let me apologize for any harm I've caused
the hundreds, no let's make that thousands...millions
of Elvis fans and Elvis wannabes.
Sincerely yours and a fan myself,
Mike
P.S. I'm also somewhat of an Elvis impersonator:
Pass me one of them there jelly doughnuts will ya...
Pretty good uh?
Maybe you have to be there...
Lonely
in the crowd
king's impersonator
alone
like an unwanted pet
talking to himself
in lost tongues
lost lives
like weightless flies
that fall around
dead...
King's impersonator
surrounded from people
by tens,
by hundreds
and still lonely
like an unwanted pet
in the kingdom of loneliness...
nor any greed
from one suppurating marriage
this guy wants to be freed
with no malice this cheap tricking
super tramping wordsmith
of inxs ac of dc charged cheap tricks
sans done dirty deed.
This impersonator qua sometime bard of yore
admits to his apology
if ye get taken totally abominable
like bar rammy aback
to proposition ye with carnal desires in store
and ideally match deeds ease with these words
towards such strong desire to adore
forsooth that naked realm
to allow the noggin to bore
together in close syncopation like couplet core
and would now gently encourage
his newfound muse
to let me dip me quill in
iambic pentameter du jour
a wordsmith who shies away
drinking pot or smoking booze.
Now with a zing
i step into the digital xing
via summit da fall low wing
written jest to byte tongue in cheek
yet unsure if zee phone here will ring
or an unexpected gold plated invitation
after the yodeling ding
in an effort to hear that pleasant
yet discordant musical ka -- ching
for cherished pennies,
nickels, dimes, nickle back
et cetera from heaven to bring.
Twiddling me fir and twenty black bird
shaped like a green thumb
as me schmart simian Semitic ****
gets comfortably numb
after quaffing
humongous amount of rum
while downing oral rob hurts
sesame street pudding
made of pureed plum
unlike jack in the corner
my luck mooch oh more glum
and despite facial stubble here
and there a stale crumb
this har dabbler in words haint no bum
only a hard knock er skool alum.
from thee one and only almighty
alfred e. neuman king crusty crab crumb son Rodg
er alias scott matthews - whose words
intended as playful persiflage
if curious to learn more about me
emanating from cranial lodge
unless no auto mat tick interest arises -
whence this reply u can dodge.
Las Vegas 1967
Harrah’s, free drinks
Circus Circus, bring the kids
Frontier, win a Chevy
Golden Nugget, best slots
Flamingo Capri, Elvis impersonator
Caesar’s Palace, world’s best buffet
Tropicana, win big
Sahara, all day breakfast
Dunes, best shrimp cocktail thirty cents
Golden Nugget, live girls
I would certainly hope so.