Best Impostors Poems
My confession
I murdered them all
impostors
claims of poetic devices
when the evidence was only
rants piled upon rants
A circle of praises
made the courts dizzy
the frauds committed
only added to their notoriety
under oath
all their poems shattered
The judge looked me in the eye
how do you plead sir
"Guilty as charged your honour"
I here by then sentence you to 19 days
you must pay for each crime
one day for each scoundrel exposed
Categories:
impostors, art, character, conflict, introspection,
Form:
Free verse
I remember for the very first time hearing
Words that had not been experienced
But on reflection treated the subject matter well
And I have heard singers sing like impostors
Because it was not there words
That they took to the stage to sell
But what is the wordsmith
Without the tortured poet
That suffers for his art
Yet cant play the part
Because his mundane life is a million lifetimes apart.
Categories:
impostors, slam,
Form:
Free verse
Tethered by life's boundless gyre;
doltish in the headlong plunge.
Swirling in its turbid mire;
mock demur feigns to expunge.
Inchoate thoughts swell pathos' rosters;
errant guides whose hack beguiles.
Pay scant regard to such impostors;
debar with glee their rueful smiles.
Then peerless grow your firm resolve;
abjure ego its tumescence.
Ascend the arc and thus evolve;
render glacial your senescence.
Else succumb as prisoner of your thought;
Fashioned into something you are not.
Categories:
impostors, character, life,
Form:
Sonnet
God Is
God is not confused
God is not amused
God is not impressed
God does not watch commercials
God is not the target demographic
God does not buy name brand clothes or slave labor labels
God is not stylish
God is not popular
spoken of often but
God is not popular
God
Currently has multiple copyright infringement and slander cases in litigation
‘cause people keep on placing his name in the middle of nonsense
God is often imitated and killed daily
God finds your insanity boring
God laughs at what you think you know
God know you don’t know her
God ignores posers
Your ego slashed God’s tires
God is all dressed up with nowhere to go
God is the greatest dancer you’ve never seen
God is a beautiful wallflower
Waiting on your call
Dios no hablo ingles
God is against comprehensive immigration reform
God is also against borders
and inequitable sociopolitical and socioeconomic policies
God is not capitalistic
God is not patriotic
God is not contemporary
God is not cosmopolitan
God is a Sunda(zed) effigy
the Author rendered understudy by impostors
Perfection red lined and compartmentalized
Prepackaged for your comfort and their control
God is not a GMO
God is not a seedless watermelon
or a perfectly yellow and uniform bunch of bananas
God is not a Li-ger
God is not a Kentucky Fried Chicken wing
God is not at Chick Fil-A or Church’s chicken either
God is not a contradiction or a fictional promise
God is waiting at the end of our grey wavering
God is not one of us
God is the true and living absolute
God is love unequivocal
the binary promise
the timeless omni-dimensional logic appearing illogical to the finite senses
God is exact and infinite
the mystery in which there is no intrigue
the balance in deed rendering speech meaningless
God is beyond question or renegotiation
God never whatever
God ever forever
The bearer of the standard that I strive to stand upon
The principle to which I wish to nearer draw
The here to there
The this to that
The then now and ever in an instant
The all in all in which it all makes sense
the destination
the road itself
and the motivation to keep on walking
Categories:
impostors, black african american, blessing,
Form:
Free verse
Fake is what you claim not to be;
In time, all will unveil and we will soon see.
Fake people are like mirrors,
I can see right through them.
They always try to deceive you,
Never being true.
I always mind my business.
And I'm always doing me,
Staying away drama being free.
People that told you that they would be there till the end.
True friends will you defended through thick and thin.
To all those people who claim they are real;
Let me tell you something, there is nothing to steal.
I want people around who are humble and modest, honest and open about their opinion.
Being real and truthful is their religion.
A forced smile is nothing better than a lie but a lie.
You cannot hide from yourself, no matter how hard you try.
Categories:
impostors, hope, inspirational, life, people,
Form:
Rhyme
>Blood tests
22-12-16
By Stanley Russell Harris
The new mad author.
& Poetry Soup Honourably Mentioned
Have you ever had a blood test?
I have lots, you know.
Everybody wants them, why I don’t really know?
And I watch the needle and syringe.
To see the correct amount there does flow.
I saw the young fully trained phlebotomist.
I really did you know.
He looked so blinking young.
Could he facial hair really grow?
Just in case you’re wondering, I did not ask you know.
So, he could not be Father Christmas.
Although it is that time of year!
For Father Christmas to show his face.
What can be seen through that big white beard?
I know to be politically correct today.
I should have said that beard.
Was a, ‘light shade of grey.’
But even that’s, politically wrong today!
Taking my blood test today.
I’m sure that the phlebotomist was so young I say.
So I must look elsewhere you know.
For Father Christmas I must just so.
Now everyone I saw today.
Was oh! So young, that’s what I say.
And looking in the mirror, you know.
Surely that old man is not me.
But golly gosh, it is, just so.
So I could be Father Christmas.
Although beard I have not got.
So I will have to wear a false one.
Like those other impostors have got.
I’ve heard of global warming.
And I must confess one night.
I thought I’d shave my beard off.
I did and that just wasn’t right.
If this is global warming?
With the named storms that sadly blow.
Why are so many people blinking cold, in deep freezing, icy snow?
Perhaps we should say the Earth is cooling.
I really jest you not.
Then, with global warming freezing, global cooling could be, oh so blinking hot.
Merry Christmas everybody, Merry Christmas and a not too hot, cold, wet, freezing, windy New Year.
Stanley the new mad author & poetry soup honourably mentioned<
Categories:
impostors, christmas, health,
Form:
Like the moving clouds my life runs,
Not knowing when to stop, saturate and shower,
Carrying the vapours of worry my heart weighs heavy,
Crossing the peak I saturate and cry,
Sometimes I squall, sometimes I bawl,
At times I weep and at times I wail,
The joy of colours are slowly dwindling,
I turn black or white,
I see my life waning in vain,
I was wont to rise at dawn,
My mornings turned mournings,
Tears of grief brushes my cheeks,
Lamentation has become my daily passion,
I like to cry and this is my hobby,
The two impostors - happiness and joy
I never met them so far
To smile or laugh, this has become
The most difficult task.
No shelter to stay,
No shoulders to lay,
A sense of loneliness in the crowd,
Desolation always stands before me,
I see my reflection but there is none,
Even my shadow never follows me,
Unaccompanied and deserted,
Isolated from my own species,
Yet I danced with abandoned enthusiasm,
My bed, my companion,
Where I cuddle for warmth,
It makes my dreams come true,
By making me more dream and accrue
My pillow my spouse,
The hugs of lust and kisses of romance,
With all love bites and chews,
It remains the same even if I squeeze,
The scented breeze holds up patiently,
When the window panes thrown open,
It rushes to tell me its stories of faux pas,
In fiasco and pain I listen to him again,
We share are exasperation and worries,
My gentle friend slides my tears away,
The park benches where I take a nap,
Reminds me my mother’s lap,
It calls me with love and care
And bears me with its arms as chair,
The tall maples around me,
With beautiful red pentamerous raceme
It composes melodies of all times
And makes an concert with wind chimes,
With all these little pleasures,
All alone in this world,
With no one falling in my eyes,
I live a life`
And this I call a solace in solitude.
22 July, 2016
Loneliness Poetry contest
Categories:
impostors, loneliness,
Form:
Free verse
I feel a nauseating revulsion to see scraps of prose
Bundled together in a neatened pile in the name of poetry,
And prizes being awarded for such otiose verbiage
And praises being heaped for such boring coquetry.
Poetry, my dear uninitiated impostors,
Is the language of the mute solemn gods.
You ought to choose your nifty title well
And thus commence your verse against the odds.
Avoid Soyinka’s worn-out style of incompetent blank verse,
Instead, give it the rhyme scheme of the unbeatable Yeats;
The superior verse that one Tom Mboya has never read,
The taste that a Kenyan editor will haul over the rooftop sheets.
Line after line beg the company of some higher Muse
So that you may pen the will of the gods and not your own;
Alliterate here and there though you must not make it your aim,
Then lunge into deeper thought with a deity-like melancholy tone.
And never seek fame for your sacred poetic tasks.
Leave the young to sing your lyrics centuries upon your death,
And remember a great weaver of rhymes long deceased
And pray and wish you immortal blissful health.
Categories:
impostors, anniversary, art,
Form:
Verse
Driving through the broken, potholed streets
Lined with houses spanning decades
Each with a thousandfold more character
than that of the cookie cutter impostors they call homes
I appreciate the creaks and groans
Much more than the sheen of granite stones
Value comes down to values.
What are yours?
Categories:
impostors, home, house,
Form:
Free verse
We are but clay,
Soon to crumble to dust, fade 'way-
After the Cold Hand's call
And the dead bells' knell
We are no more than memories-
In the mind of an amnesic-
Our voices timely lullabies
Our ideas bombs on count-down.
Soon the winds start browling,
And the seas a-raiding
No more singing birds
As nature sinks to sleep-
The somnolence weighs over mankind
The latter, like Jezebel, is but having a make-up.
Behold the mask, behold the impostors!
Humans veiled to conceal scalding faces:
No mourning veils, no remorse
As humans take another shape.
Categories:
impostors, abuse, betrayal, conflict, confusion,
Form:
Ballad
Through pristine glass observed
autumnal leaves a scatter
the litter of the season
to dishevel and clutter up the garden
Sweep the crumbs away
lay polish to the smudged and smear
for glinting tiles speak ever more clear
to build the walls security
Settle leaf it’s time is spent
amid the moss is it’s fading feeding decay
in vibrant earth again some day
will know the kiss of sun out breathing sent
So by chromium faucet quench the thirst
in bottled plastic catch each drop
and flitter dust from out the corners dirt
bacterial inch upon the forests advance
And this filthy earth stains the finger nail
showers of rain bring their unwelcome rotting smell
then by chemical impostors of a flowers perfume
seek to cleans the air in a solitary room
Such isolation proves it’s security
neat clean and tidily scrubbed
hold fast the separation of technical morality
these things devoid of insect footprints
Lay soap to order the odor of sweat
yet beg the bloom for it’s delightful scent
to cut it’s throat upon a table set
the vase the only carefully treasured object
Hanker, oh hanker for the green living pasture
all the verdant aspirations of life in nature
tingle for the worth still caught in the veins
but choking on the wish of concrete remains
Through pristine glass observe the vegetation
the autumnal leaves flutter from the trees desertion
the trigger of another season
comes to rot and disarrange the perfect garden
Such fear prefers isolation and security
would rather heed the babblings of a technological morality
aspire then beyond the dumbwaiter of nature
a vase polished of any smudge or smear
Better to be in a clinical retreat
and by habit accept what is so clearly of need
take this germ free vacation
the trees are happy in their branches for the leaves desertion
Dumbwaiter
a small elevator, manually or electrically operated, consisting typically of a box with shelves, used in apartment houses, restaurants, and large private dwellings for moving dishes, food, garbage, etc., between floors. The term “A dumbwaiter” typically implies an unseen or unconsidered workforce below, this anonymous workforce deals with the contents of the dumbwaiter, kitchen staff, garbage collectors and laundry staff
Categories:
impostors, nature,
Form:
Free verse
Again these men comes to mind,
Paid to say yes and nay,
Lame duck,
Canker, ***** rapscallion minds
Incorrigible,
Political impostors detached from the humdrum of street cries
Maggots in honor
Damp squib temples of legislators
Dishonorable honorable,
Rotund circles of rascals
Fellows fit for the gallows
Clamping on huge figures,
While masses groan in penury and misery
These men,
Myopic spendthrift
Guilty of our nation’s scraggy state
Yet so confused to order the path of the clueless dummy
Who imposed tax on all, by military orders
Ignoring the pleas, and rightful protesters
Turned tyrannical with marching murderer on Lagos Street
Their gains is from the pain of myriads of unemployed
The beggars,
The homeless,
Hungering and the dying,
Yet, these,
Profligate band of quipster
Queasy brains,
Feigning parliamentary proceedings,
Though,
Benighted of procedural skills,
Bootleg insane scoundrels
Go to now, you dunce,
Senators are no thief
Legislators are honorable men
Your reputation!
Mud eaten,
Ask the people, they know so well,
Your inscriptions are carved on the web
The insignia of corrupt men
You pride faded,
Honor, a high price you must pay to regain,
Not with money
You banter and wade it off,
Glory in these,
Your temporal pride,
Your mansions outlive you,
Your coffins called cars
Your billions in Zurich,
Your fears to face the people
And the mockery of Truth
When your time is over,
Time shall mock your reigns of folly,
With sicknesses of nameless brand,
Retrospectively,
Sufferers will call to mind, the avoidable denials,
Their pains, their poverty in your pride against your master- THE PEOPLE,
Welcome to your misery
as the masses will watch you die
rascal of usurps seats of honor, don’t call them fools.
Categories:
impostors, africa, analogy, corruption, freedom,
Form:
Free verse
Coagulation Starter – 3-28-24
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Coagulation
Finally, my blood began to coagulate,
Flowing like insomnia
Between the wounds of dawn and dusk
When wounded memories drip pools of enigmas,
Fleeting gossamers of absolutes,
Drying into sticky puzzles.
Bloodied dreams wander labyrinths,
With no exits,
Leaving spatters of millstones
For ruminating relics to follow,
Thin images of wispy encounters
Fade
In lost chords of words,
Ghosts gel from gashes.
Impostors of reality
Spit rebellious clots into ruminating plateaus,
And phantoms,
To leave a crimson stain
On unwelcomed daylight and martyred Mondays
Stirring penance from clotting confessions.
Tourniquets unbound,
Veins transfused congeal in coalescence
As platelets and corpuscles gather yesterday
Into the flow, a cadence, blood pressure restored,
The pulse of reminiscence throbs
Memoirs course through venous vessels,
Then seek a place
To dream.
Categories:
impostors, health, life,
Form:
Free verse
Written by: Rudyard Kipling
If..
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools;
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!
This is the poem I love most, admire most and try to live by the most..
It's author not only a hero, an honorable man but also a poet/author of
great fame.
I hope you enjoyed reading it
My dedication to Kipling in poetic rhyme,
I try to stand tall and measure up
to principles honorable and strong
Be generous in filling others cups
dedicated in helping others along
Firm in support and sacrificing too
a standard I have gotten from you!
Categories:
impostors, dedication, inspirational, teacher,
Form:
Rhyme
Materialistic things fulfill us temporarily...trifling with our emotions,
but their shallowness is discerned with bitterness:
when they can't save a life even with invoked mercy so tense...
as powerlessness turns into hopelessness;
can faith help us make the painless transaction into the eternal realm,
without fighting the menacing darkness bringing in a tremulous scream?
Separating ourselves from the deceptive entity
is the wisest thing humans can do, to avoid
the misleading fact that anguish doesn't exist,
or that regret isn't stronger than sympathy;
sorrow is a passable trouble, which makes us somber,
and somehow deepens the furrows on our sour faces!
Prophets, saints and holy persons thought deeply and understood this,
devoting their lives to a more rewarding vocation,
which demanded great sacrifices in return for salvation;
and today, in this era of sophistication and unbelief,
do we see any real ones, not the impostors who seek fame,
and proclaim their intrepid message to shelter themselves from blame?
Unscrupulous financiers, like Madoff, and bankers drain accounts with remorseless intent,
and when they are caught...they choose suicide over punishment;
is this the world you like to live in...with fraudulent individuals, who cause
tougher economic times to satisfy their greed at the expense of others?
Questions can become doubts that draw a negative response to any survey,
sacredness is valued more when we separate ourselves from the deceptive entity!
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
Categories:
impostors, introspection, people, sad, science
Form:
Sestina