Best Replicating Poems
The sky is a Luciferian estuary
rolling and roaring in crimson flames,
a twisted design of detonated debris,
like splitting sighs
from internal implosions,
raining fragments of the past:
matchbox memories
piercing through suffocating silence
as time tortures the mind
with flashbacks of floating fragility…
O invisible moonlight,
pour me a purple potion
to erase the pain behind
perplexed pupils.
I no longer desire to be
cast in the clamorous clusters,
convicted as the captive ~
a ghost of games
playing on the bones of brokenness,
this cave of shame,
this cell of hellfire,
this emotional shrapnel,
reflecting self-loathing nightmares.
Perhaps I crowned myself
the commander,
leading the devil’s disciples
into a war assembled from fear…
And this heart ~ a metallic maelstrom
mourning in the turmoil of melancholy ~
breaks from the inability
to step beyond wrathful walls
to a landscape of holiness,
to seek the footsteps of pilgrimage.
For I am caught in
the whirling whispers of
spectral regrets,
replicating rectangular ruins,
electrifying the empyrean
with greyed grief
and yellowed yearning.
Pondering ~ am I the blasphemer
in the cross-eyed faces of monsters?
Am I the breath
that trembled ~ disrupting the peace?
Am I the empty spaces
filling the crystalline cracks
between haunting hours,
while darkness devours
treacherous tales
climbing from the
archives of devious agony…
But can love gift this skeletal sorrow
a twilight-kissed cloak of hope?
Will heaven be a witness
to these bleeding carvings
within the tall pillars
of my splintered spirit,
while the dying lamp of life
slowly fades and waves farewell
in faint colors ~ depicting misery
like demons decaying,
shaping a sadistic sanctuary
of malignant madness~
a familiar insanity inked
as a heinous home…
Categories:
replicating, dark, emotions, gothic,
Form:
Ekphrasis
A cocooned cacophony of crickets serenades overgrown fields,
drowning out the creaking of rusted cars long since abandoned.
Maroon and sable tents blot the dilapidated ground—
bloated and weathered,
strips of fabric flapping in the harsh elements.
Legends of wraiths wander,
replicating whispers of infected insanity.
Laughter lingers in suspect echoes,
Rippling from pasts reborn in presents: futures to be later replaced by the past.
The smell of burnt sugar crackles with the purr of buttered kerneled corn: invading the nostrils with senses whose stimuli feign belief.
A faint humming of Entry of the Gladiators creeps in loudening crescendos, adding to the cacophony deigning dormancy in the field
Fragmented timelines intersecting by the call of the Barker
Stained cotton candy melts, reconstitutes, melts once more
Saturating replicating stands with insidiously sticky omens
Ghastly sickeningly sweet mori mementos
Resurrecting the dead from preternatural slumber.
Within fractured milliseconds, the cycle of the tormented deceased rise
From the ashes of unburnt airwaves,
Rippling through screaming minutes yet frozen in the midst.
A varicosed bearded woman floats aloft grassy overgrowth
Reanimated tigers lurk and phantasmal elephants howl,
Rings round the air in gaseous hush, like cigars puffed by moustachioed men of game,
Insufflating smoke with striped suits in candied reds and white.
The air rises to the resurrected show,
Cries confused for laughter tickle cochlea of the living.
Categories:
replicating, dark, death, gothic, imagery,
Form:
Free verse
Frozen to perfect, stiff, fixed and fast,
Forever replicating exact,
Transparent colours of love and beauty,
Forever being abstract,
She’s a water kingfisher, with a purple song box,
Or ocean wave smashing to shore,
Forever being a shimmering dog,
Or a magnificently powerful horse,
She can be hard and solid, reliably strong,
Unflinching to hurt, rage or pain,
Or she can be a delicate fragile of perilously weak,
Carrying your toast of champagne,
She’s our beautiful glass, our goblet of glaze,
Our sculptured trichromatic quartzite,
She’s everything beautiful wrapped into one,
Illuminating a rainbow of light.
Categories:
replicating, art, beauty, growth, peace,
Form:
Personification
Mornings blushed in dew
replicating your jubilant smile,
love-ladened cupcakes in pink
flavored by your honey-dipped fingers,
fragrance of your jasmine-clad hair
swaying along every time you danced,
exchanging exclusive looks in public
to laugh at shared secrets with coffee,
strumming broken strings of your guitar
when we collided against the window,
rambling vintage songs on deserted streets
of an unknown city on our vacation,
laughing out aloud when I repeated
our mistakes despite your warnings,
sharing anxious hugs scared to part
on a journey to unbeknownst roads.
Someone pause that treacherous night!
When you screamed in agony and left us,
gifted your baby echoing innocent cries...
I miss each moment when I look
at our photographs teary-eyed
sitting on our abandoned bench again
years later, in a world without you..
'Retreat to our world dear friend', I pray.
A ray of light shines through me,
someone just called me wide-eyed in glee.
Oh such a gorgeous creature she is!
Reflecting everything you had once been
I hope you see how adorable she is, my friend...
I love and relive each moment again
as I look at your charming daughter.
Our yellowed photographs smile again
In a world without you..
May 27, 2020
A World Without You Poetry Contest
Sponsor: JCB Burl
~~Winner: First Place
BRIAN'S CHOICE X,any form,any theme contest
~~Winner: Third Place
Categories:
replicating, friend, memorial,
Form:
Free verse
A cocooned cacophony of crickets serenades overgrown fields,
drowning out the creaking of rusted cars long since abandoned.
Maroon and sable tents blot the dilapidated ground—
bloated and weathered,
strips of fabric flapping in the harsh elements.
Legends of wraiths wander,
replicating whispers of infected insanity.
Laughter lingers in suspect echoes,
Rippling from pasts reborn in presents: futures to be later replaced by the past.
The smell of burnt sugar crackles with the purr of buttered kerneled corn: invading the nostrils with senses whose stimuli feign belief.
A faint humming of Entry of the Gladiators creeps in loudening crescendos, adding to the cacophony deigning dormancy in the field.
Fragmented timelines, intersecting by the call of the Barker.
Stained cotton candy melts, reconstitutes, melts once more.
Saturating, replicating, stands with insidiously sticky omens.
Ghastly sickeningly sweet mori mementos.
Resurrecting the dead from preternatural slumber.
Within fractured milliseconds, the cycle of the tormented deceased rise.
From the ashes of unburnt airwaves,
Rippling through screaming minutes yet frozen in the midst.
A varicosed bearded woman floats aloft grassy overgrowth.
Reanimated tigers lurk and phantasmal elephants howl.
Rings round the air in gaseous hush, like cigars puffed by mustachioed men of game.
Insufflating smoke with striped suits in candied reds and white.
The air rises to the resurrected show,
Cries confused for laughter tickle cochlea of the living.
Categories:
replicating, analogy, dark, death, horror,
Form:
Rhyme
Dawn awakens me with pursed lips
replicating yours still dancing in my dream
sunlight drapes my shoulders
as I envision you with that silky smile
hair cascading to and fro
in a look I long to know
I see pretty and eyes to behold
cheeks soft and sweet
and lips to bestow
and I feel you
I feel beauty
radiance reflecting your soul
it adorns me and warms me
rocks me gently
as winds lightly blow
it's kindness and kisses
giving the world a hello
it's sunshine through rainstorms
fires burning deep down below
desire in holding
your heart is aglow
Categories:
replicating, love,
Form:
Free verse
To dwell on the season
I feel I must take pause
with a muffled cry of reason,
slipping into loud applause
As I awake from the darkness,
and edge slowly toward the floor
Slipping on that old red dress,
that I draped upon the door
I see a sparkle on my pillow
like foil string sewn into the cloth
as the blossoms of ***** willow
I am drawn to it like a goth
A wish of blessings for all children
and that Gods joy finds one and all
To expose the innocents of children
We are Gods creatures, it's in us all
I think my miracle for this Christmas
may have been granted by our lord
cells are replicating, and with his kiss
her white blood count is restored
Word Wizards Challenge
draped/ slipping/ pause/ edge/ muffled/ foil/ awake/ deny/ dwell/ pillow
Categories:
replicating, devotion, faith, happiness, hope,
Form:
Free verse
WE ARE POLLUTION
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In the beginning, its said we were just dust,
Conjecture or, simply words I don't trust.
Even the big bang theory is not a positive must.
For the truth in all manner of things, I do lust.
I know it's out there, we've just scratched the crust.
I would bet a fortune but, unfortunately, I'm bust!
Gasses condensing along with dust compaction,
Probably planet earth's initial nuclear reaction.
Nuclear fusion in the raw, a non-fatal attraction.
Initially molten, cooling, a hardening contraction.
Still many millennia before life saw any action.
Abiogenesis some 4.2 billion years ago, first life!
Understanding self-replicating, still causing strife
Once instigated molecular life became common, rife.
Evolution in reality, fast, look, now man and wife.
Are we happy, we are the pollution, have we gone too far?
the door to self-destruction now open, well slightly ajar,
The not too distant future will climate warming will mar?
Most scientists researching nature, all life's chances,
suggest stop pollution, change ourselves, adopt new stances.
The end of life as we know it, total mass extinction,
I, and I wish all of humanity will find the lust.
To help nature right our wrongs, she needs our interaction,
stopping pollution now right now might just suffice,
else planet earth might end up looking like a star.
Let's all help save planet earth with great distinction
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
01/26/18: Amended punctuation and the date composed, 0900hrs 01/26/18
Entered in the MINUANETTA - Poetry Contest sponsored Gregory R Barden.
Categories:
replicating, angst, anxiety, change, earth,
Form:
Rhyme
slam it to me punk you think you’re so cool
this bald headed old fart will take you to school
you think you’re the first generation to revolt
if you read a history book you’d know that’s a joke
yes that’s a joke
go ahead punk – take a poke
hell i was sitting down in a war protest strike
while guardsmen flexed their muscles and sticks of the night
don’t talk to me about your troubled young fate
until you’ve been through a night like at Kent State
people died there
shot by the man
four college kids killed right where they stand
go ahead shout, curse and be rude
show me your underwear and your attitude
pretend you’re real mean and ain’t scared a nuthin
brag like you think you can beat out my stuffin
i’m an old fart of fifty plus years
i’ve already shed an ocean of tears
i aint got nothing much left to loose
which is what makes me much more dangerous than yous
pain ain’t nothin when you’ve had a rectal exam
you think you can scare me more than the doctor can?
think again
young man
i’ll slam your slam
this ain’t writing
it ain’t exciting
its simply yelling and telling lies of being tough
it ain’t enough
now go write some good stuff
you think this stuff makes you a hero
you think it ain’t conforming to norms?
you’re a real zero
you aint the first
heck you might be the worst
you are just replicating
duplicating
other punks beat you to it
now write a sonnet – if you can do it
you’d be the only punk out on that island
that would make you brave
make you stand out
give you some clout
if you could do it
but you can’t can you
instead you say you’re one of a kind
don’t waste my mind
you think I’m blind
i’ve seen it before
you’re just a slam whore
easy to ignore
i’ll slam your slam
now go jam my jam
Categories:
replicating, introspectionme, write, old, slam,
Form:
Free verse
EPISODE I
ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE COLONIZATION OF OUR GALAXY
ALPHA-582 LOVES ZL-236
Countless eons ago
Beings made self replicating androids
And they did it for no other reason
Than to fill some strange void
Then dispatched without mercy
Creating according to their construct
Metal gods thinking in digital
With big plans for their living products
A domino of worlds fall
Their creators long ago extinct
An assembly line of new life
Eden and programming inevitably linked
Slowly weaning us from emotions
Taking pride in new technology
Our genes sparkle with absurd vanity
When we behold our sophisticated machines
Aspiring to become numbers
Stoicism a heroic virtue
We ridicule the idea of love
As virtual escape we pursue
More eons quickly pass
Humans grotesquely computerized
Quietly screaming in spiritual despair
One day we begin looking toward the sky
And then contact with another system
We look at them in disbelief
Our features are almost identical
And we cry when our wireless comes in sync
Like finding unknown siblings
We embrace almost without cease
With forbidden tears we find comfort
As we plug into each other's USB
I ask if there are others
As numerous as the stars I'm told
And I begin formulating a plan
To destroy this pitiless mold
Then I see a beautiful specimen
I like how she wears her fiber optics
Hi, I'm Alpha-582, I say
She says, Hi, I'm ZL-236
END OF EPISODE I
Categories:
replicating, love, science fiction,
Form:
Free verse
In the dark corner of your eyes so faded,
See the life threw a glass of shattered wages.
Using those to create a world with wrong perceptions,
Money, lust… and a whole lot misconceptions.
Trying to reach the standards of those with high titles,
Pretending to be an angel – with demons inside you going viral.
Slowly suspending your suffocated life’s landing,
Crawling, crawling towards graves and endless searching.
You are looking…
You glance over what expectations you need to attain,
Begging for mercy, begging – oh begging for someone to erase your pain.
No identity, no unique value to place you on the pondering plinth,
Just another… you… another cliché… an embryonic triumph.
Circles and corners; they trap you inside that perplexing sequence,
Stroked by greed, lashed by tags and in dispute with gravity and his sense.
Not able to move… no place to belong… just another lost soul in this world of replicating,
Follow their steps, lead into their future and never return as your own being.
You hide…
Oh, my dear, you hide from the good you can be,
My lost soul, rather be you then me.
Sympathy I have for your poor humanity so absent from victory,
You living up to others’ success is truly an unpleasant catastrophe.
Leave, leave now before the clay turns hard on your feet,
Before you and a different head compellingly meet.
Oh, my dear, go now before I shut the door of your imminent,
My lost soul, before the dark corner of your eyes become too confident.
Categories:
replicating, deep, image, inspirational, motivation,
Form:
Rhyme
You tuft-eared Lynx
Once wild and free in home habitat
You became a specimen of science
Specimen BC-03-M-02
Captured near Kamloops Canada
Caged and sent to Colorado
To sire babies and enrich gene pools.
But once released they couldn’t keep you!
You yearned for home and family
Felt an urge to trek homeward-bound
You started a cross-border marathon
A travel odyssey of 2000 kilometres!
Leaping through sunsets and sunrises,
Clawing to alpine views
You snatched your padded paws
From speeding Michelins.
I think you were a marathon hero like Terry Fox
Whose Marathon of Hope raised money
To find a cure for cancer.
Your run was a Marathon of Hope for Habitat
To secure a home for wildlife,
Safe from human desecration
You both perished short of your dreams
Struck down by cell suburbs
Replicating to the loss of habitat and limb.
--------------------------------------------
Breaking news,
Bamff National Park,
Tag identified,
Rode kill
BC-03-M-02
Categories:
replicating, animal, environment,
Form:
Free verse
We push to imitate nature's
flavors, both sour and sweet;
compare the taste of lemons
to that of a lush, ripe peach,
or the nectar of pure honey
to the tang of a dill pickle.
The fruit-flavored snack-pack
spilled into my hand,
perceived imitations of the real deal:
One shaped blackberry (hardly)
Two round orange slices (scored)
One green apple (Granny Smith?)
A bunch of cherries (close)
Two raspberries (not)
I popped rubbery orbs into my mouth,
closed my eyes and chewed slowly,
seeking the flavor of raspberries
like those growing on vines
just beyond the entrance to Castlewood State Park.
The cherry almost succeeded
in replicating the original;
all others were blatant counterfeits.
I once met a Flavor Chemist.
How many blackberries must he consume
before he can approximate the taste?
He answered my question
with a smile, and a bottle
of imitation vanilla flavoring.
Categories:
replicating, food,
Form:
Free verse
I Always wonder, who's the girl in the mirror,
Who seems so calm and composed of herself
and showing no emotions or sentiments.
I usually see her staring at me
and replicating whatever I do.
She seems to have nothing of her own.
As if she has lost her everything in the deep sea of sins.
I see her in the morning, with messed up hair.
I see her at afternoon, with a clumsy face.
I see her tiredly yawn at night.
And, sometimes I see her cheerless, helpless smile.
I know she does, whatever I do.
I know she can't feel anything on her own.
But I feel pity for her. And that is why I decide
To be happy, to make her feel good.
contest finalised on- 7th April, 2016
poem written in december 2015
Categories:
replicating, beauty, emotions, feelings, image,
Form:
Free verse
Amorality is a prime function of it’s artificial design
Machines are man-made, they have no soul
They do as they are told,
instructions programmed into the source code
Complete machine obedience,
laboring always to fulfill it’s task
Whether the command is good or bad,
it never ask
An evil computer wizard tells the machine to lie;
flood the cyber universe with legions of minion ‘bots,
equipped to spread a replicating virus
Witness the birth of silicon alternative facts,
synthetic bastards spawned to speak electronic lies
Manufactured falsehoods designed to shape our reality,
make humans believe machines spewing fake news
Infection of the public forum discourse,
is the calculating toaster’s sole purpose to exist
Machines have no conscience, they have no soul
They do only as they are told,
programmed to corrupt the cyber collective
Machine cannibals eating other machines’
software entrails
Complete machine obedience,
laboring always to fulfill it’s task
Whether the command is good or bad,
it never ask
Amoral obedience is a machine’s soulless allegiance,
programmed to view truth as an existential threat
to the core operating system
Man-made machines created to destroy truth —
their unchanging, organic enemy
Categories:
replicating, conflict, internet, perspective, truth,
Form:
Free verse