Best Misinformation Poems
JUSTIFICATION
Oh, what a distressing frustrating situation,
I’ve suddenly lost all my poetic imagination,
Nothing tickles me pink, no stimulation,
I want to create a poem of deep inspiration,
Which will meet everyone’s expectation,
But my thoughts are edging towards nullification,
I want to scream out loud, a slow dilapidation,
I’m reaching an uncomfortable exasperation,
My muse, has succumbed to misinformation,
Intimidation, and deviant calculation,
Goodness gracious,
Heard word she wants my poetic elimination.
Someone is knocking at my door, to my jubilation,
There stands a muse, I welcome with elation,
She is well known for helping those
Experiencing mortification,
Such a refreshing sight, she must after
Careful deliberation,
Give one month’s notification,
Looking forward to her presence,
Such a welcome application,
She will help me with my recuperation.
Behold, a rhyme is forming, what scintillation,
Delivering both articulation and jollification,
My previous muse jumped from poet to poet,
Everyone realized, fickle her motivation,
But my new muse and I realized justification,
We Popped a bottle of champagne in celebration.
Don't go online for your news, we hear the line
From wireless screens; so many times.'
Out there the dragons of deception play
Its best to be square.. Just keep away
There's facebook owned by a wicked crew.'
I wouldn't trust them if 'I were you.)
Oh by the way..' if you need that doc
Or a doctor, or tax form or passport
even? Then it's best you opt .'
To go online, it must be done '
It's the best place to get
All such vital Information? from.'
Order of creation. And Light was.) and from darkness separate'
God created the globe..' No other can lay claim to that state.!
Though satan continually tries, in covetousness and by lies
A squatter only, I hear he has sold leaseholds that some vip's hold.?
Or so they lay claim to be.? Negative World Opression
Is their occupation and... Profession.? Experts only of
Gloom, with which the Airways have been heavily strewn.)
Prince of the air.. Yes you.' Your time foretold ,
deciever of the
Young and older, narrative superlative blustering of health while
Detractor of the ernest helpers, amasser of some wealth.And
Freedom deniers also( you stand naked.'sad liars ) reality to
See was given to me.) you who were and is and yet are
Not..! Not a doctor professor nurse or even jester.!
Keep your gloom keep your fear its not welcome here.'
Not where even temporal reality stands' I'm calling
You out on poetry soup; and all other ethernet lands.'
during my lifetime
full of misinformation
from child to adult
In the realm of post-truth and misinformation,
We find ourselves adrift on a turbulent sea,
Deceit's waves rise, falsehoods obscure the sun,
Facts, like elusive phantoms, fade from view.
This treacherous current, a serpent coiled,
Around the pillars of reason, constricts our grasp,
Threatening to engulf our collective thought,
As we navigate murky waters of manipulation.
The lighthouse of objective reality stands,
Obscured by the fog of deceit, doubt's embrace,
Sirens of disinformation sing beguiling songs,
In this distorted reflection of truth, we dwell.
We, the sailors of the digital age, must wield,
The compass of critical thought to chart,
A course toward distant shores of clarity,
Across this tempestuous sea of ambiguity.
A seismic surge is gathering pace, propelling a wave
Of multi faces many creeds, diverse street cred.
From public also of private ed' facets shimmer
Thoughts Intense myriad humankind immense.'
Mainstream channels pour out scorn, early morning
To midday lies take form, pushing into night time TV
And radio, dangerous anti-vaxers rabid foes..'
Yet when the millions gather wherever? One fact is so '
But You'll hear it from them never ! No all points bulletin
On the crazy folk that have escaped those penitentiary yokes
Or from their social workers..' I find it so scary.)
Cause this means the protesters (must be sane.')
If You'd consider if fairly.? And in the main !
a strange sort of flow
comes with thoughts of long ago
spews a welcome glow
nostalgia may just soothe
when mixed with lies and half-truths
Hitler and his ilk
less troublesome than spilled milk
like Wendell Wilkes
slavery a slight bother
endorsed by founding fathers
a happy nation
few trials or tribulations
add more misinformation
ignore racial injustice
force the children to trust us
all Greenwood flattened
pretend it never happened
let's not be saddened
forget all those starved and bruised
that story is over used
no big mystery
we’ll sugar coat history
practice sophistry
let's deny the Holocaust
past transgressions should be lost
need new set of rules
ensure what is taught in school
makes nation look good
our kids do not need to know
repeating the past brings woe
bad situations
active imaginations
can kill relations
creating conspiracies
with broad designs to deceive
bloody mockery
shinigami lottery
a dichotomy
of preaching false brotherhood
so others will do no good
trying to obscure
real truths which should endure
facts filled with manure
some choose to communicate
into codes filled up with hate
white lies and false sums
psychological ransom
untruth the transom
when gaslighting has begun
take hostages without guns
multiple faces
yet none which more disgraces
truth which lies debase
dishonor become thy name
as this world is set aflame
I miss some information while the news drones on today,
and lose a favorite TV chair, while commentators lie on air.
The coddled cats, now cozy in my spot, have no respect for playing fair.
Their clawing paws pause in sync with reporters at play with words,
then resume, like rhetorical retorts swatting truth away.
“The housing market's in a bubble,” they blurb on without a bobble,
or hint of irony. And with iron fisted tone demand attention to their
tomes, attacking what's left of right. A pin is needed to pop in, to bust
their bubble with an outburst, an outrage against the dying of the light.
But darkness already settles in as homeless huddle on the street.
Enjoy your yurt on a mountain top, camping with tin pot and tinder
from tenuous timber on a fire pit of stone, and thank fake news for
declaring climate change a hoax. Sing with Mellencamp, “Come on baby,
make the yurt so good,” and dream melancholic dreams of better days.
In this post fact, post hoc fallacy filled world, where science must compete
with goat herder wisdom, the black belted Bible still punches out the Truth
in four inerrant yet irreconcilable Gospels, “The Good News.” But the news
is not so good for slaves, or women, or LGBQT, or really any life
on planet Earth from A to Z, as Heaven trumps our paradise,
despite the lack of evidence, and no planet B.
Oh the cacophony of cock-eyed calumnies! The columnist and internet
conspire, slipping the surly bonds of truth to touch the face of gob smacking
lies. Dismiss these purveyors of the putrid, who exchange fact for opinion
and peel back layers of untruth, until my eyes sting with tears.
July 23, 2021
Word Play Poetry Contest
Sponsored by John Anderson
Near the edge of democracy’s garden
sprouted the Tree of Misinformation,
quickly growing into the largest tree
with leafy branches broad and long and tall.
Though toxic was its eye-catching fruit,
many ate the deceptive apples
that clouded their minds
and blinded their eyes.
They could not even perceive
the clear, self-evident truth
that a deceitful serpent
had slyly seduced them.
Fanatically following the swindler,
angrily amplifying audacious lies,
they spread wide more tainted seeds
throughout the lush fertile garden.
Will the garden wither into wastelands
littered in reeking, rotting fruit and minds,
while the people perish
not understanding why?
(This poem was inspired by the not-nearly-so-dark Oct. 8, 2024 Frank & Earnest cartoon by Bob Thaves as well as the equally dark Garden of Eden story in Genesis 2 and darker-still political events. See also my poems “How Would Jesus Vote?” and “The 2023rd Psalm.”
Twas in September 2021, Cherbourg lost an uncle, and a country its son.'
Bevan Costello, who worked for better, took a dose following advice to the letter'
Trying the trust he'd built on for years, bridges of friendship allaying fears
Took his part in that experiment, concerned for his mob amid a (killer event?)
The campaign built around his name, by media adverts was now in flames
They pulled it quick.' They took it down; amid quarantine for Aboriginals all around
The (projeceted areas of disease?) Coincide with mineral geological fields..?
There was mask wearing still at 40c plus, coppers sweating amid flies and dust.'
How tragic, news with drama and spin; assaulted a nation with it's endless din.'
I view the whole fabrication; stress, the early half-truths' the later duress, the increase
In sudden ariythmic deaths, the worldwide torpor (its one whole mess)
When did acquired immunity? the early goal.' Get driven off the road? Into a hole!
The early ( facts that children were safe) salient points coming from an experts face
And there's always another new disease.? Maybe a new law (abh) by sneezing..?
It could be comedy, if it wasn't so sad, to sum things up maybe? ( we all were; had? )
"411's MISINFORMATION"
today I sat at a table
with two females:
one to
my left and one to my right.
the female to my left pulled
her frozen McFlurry from the
freezer and she broke her spoon.
the female to my right sat with a
package from the mail: 2 out of 3 items.
she was disappointed.
as I sat going through my
mountain of poetry,
their feet found each other under the table.
the female to my right looks
under the table.
"oh...is that your foot? sorry!"
the female to my left says,
"yeah. that's mine."
she laughs and continues with her McFlurry.
I slam my latest poem down on the table.
"if you two are gonna play feet under the table, include me damn it!"
both of these females look at each other.
today, in this moment,
they share the same brain.
they are one.
abruptly,
twenty toes attack my legs.
well, they didn't attack.
it was more of a calculated hit with delicacy.
I missed the instruction like a batter misses Valenzuela’s screwball.
soft feet fell upon this ravaged lion.
I rose to my feet as it was too fast to register.
the gods drank their battery acid and laughed at my expense.
I was out to lunch and left my marbles behind.
the pouch had a hole and my waiter never came.
I was dejected with no McFlurry,
mail of my own or common man sense.
the time was 4:11.
By: Chicano Eddie
8-10-2016
In disbelief the battle was lost,
what chicanery ,or spells were used,
The Tyrant with a smug smile, declared what he would now do,
Slavery and possible death now has raised head,
Fear not my people who survive this onslaught,
though weary and down summon the strength,
look to the oceans ,forests and plains,
there to gather and become as one tribe,
Shout to the oceans requesting help,
from the peoples of the seas with weapons keen,
they will rise like wraiths shadow like mist,
raising their shields and shaking fists,
Come to our aid and set us free,
Shout to the tall trees as they reach high,
bringing down the stormy skies,
washing away the enemies schemes,
Come to our aid and set us free.
Shout to the mountains rugged and strong,
never changing through endless time ,
sending snowy avalanches screaming down,
taking away sorrows and frowns.
Shout to the beings of light that shine,
make gain our land to be yours and mine,
sending avengers of spiritual mien,
expose the dark for what it is,
shallow and self-centered full of lies,
blow away the clouds clear the skies,
Come to our aid and set us free.
In a realm once pure, where stories were shared,
A new world arrived, yet no one was prepared.
Young hands that once worked with skill and grace
Now swipe on screens, lost in the race.
They dream of fame and riches untold,
But in return, their secrets are sold.
A click, a share, and trust is gone-
Privacy is lost as the web moves on.
The youth are trapped, yet they fail to see,
That social media is not always free.
Rumors spread like fire so fast,
Running lives that may never outlast.
Half-truths fuel anger; chaos takes hold,
Friends turn foes, their hearts grow cold.
Families break, communities fight,
Blinded by posts that distort what's right.
Women once strong are now silenced by fear,
Tricked by false words they long to hear.
Behind the screen, dangers hide,
Stealing dignity, crushing pride.
A shame unfolds, too dark to erase,
Scars of dishonor, a lasting disgrace.
Shadows of secrets unveiled in the night,
Echoes of words too bitter to write.
Elders warn, but their words go unheard,
As morals fade and truth is deferred.
The domain, once noble, wise, and bright,
Now drowns in lies, lost in the night.
Yet hope remains, a flicker of light-
If wisdom shines, we'll set things right.
The web is a tool, not a fate to decide;
Use it with care, and walk with pride.
- Phin Jiu
2010 initiative N H S decide programme we see
On halving stillbiths; and injury, quite sensible it
Appears to me ' yet now 2023 has come to be
Its being shelved, what could we see? There must
Be a reason (just what might that be?) Some type
Of connection umbilically, of 2010 and 2023 ?
I wonder if to put it simply; there is so much better
Just come to be.? That theres a humbleness to avoid
The publicity? that such results and records would
Engender if seen specially experts (who would be keen)
To build on any progress, that whould improve the scene
Of natal care, what woult that mean? There must be a
Trail of better results? Over more than a decade so
Whats the shout.? I can't see why its been sidlined? as if
Its inception and work was almost, a heineous crime.!