"I'm the Carnival's
Cartomancer,
Zoltar the mystic,
foreseeing wise."
"Who immobile waits...
inside this
narrow case--
top four-sided glass
and bottom
Pine-crafted box.
"It's wishing coin's
'ka-ching',
that magically
revives me."
"As true believers
witness--once
my turbaned gaze
mentally reads
what's seeping out
their inquiring eyes."
"Fact is--these
animated hands,
randomly select
from the magnetic deck--
one, out of many, fortune
riddled cards--inked of
buoyant, superb vibes."
"Though blissful, playful,
mind you--all of 'em--
merciful white lies."
"Behold, each
future's scripted
and then sold;"
"To luck--searching,
wishing souls--
on fortune--tellin',
Robot--sellin' cards."
"Whose promised prizes
are a Carney vendor's
paradise."
It may be affected by political acts.? Yet a
History of relevant fact, is what was done
Under the sun.' In recounting of its gristle
And bristles? Why are hackles raised.? Why
Are heckles made.? Why shout about odds.
If the numbers aren't stacked.'
Its what it is
Or is for some? That the rub.' If its not that
Malleble.? Then they show not love.'
Although in the halls of power, are virtues
Touted, in a ( broad aside ) they
are quite usually, and most wilfully flouted.'
(“Crappy Karma Happens Merit Badge”, 2010, original oil)
The simple fact is
People get what they deserve
By the simple fact
That that’s what they get
Karma has a way of doing that
Following you around
Like a shadow, like a puppy
Like a mugger in the dark
Waiting for just the right moment
To take its pound of flesh
Living on borrowed time they say
Borrowed by simply living
When it’s all more a loan
With the debt compounding daily…
Who and what are we borrowing from?
Our future selves.
(6/8/26)
Peeling back a layer of skin
I’m a voodoo doll so put in the pins
Cut me wide open, come see where I’ve been
This corpse shows how to take one on the chin
Spiritually, I’m dead and that’s just as well
Maybe I’ll come back but only time will tell
Am I going to heaven? Will I go back to hell?
Have I been nursing a psychological spell?
I dance with the devil on all ten of my toes
My face won’t reflect what the autopsy shows
They pull on my petals like a delicate rose
They take life from me but that’s how it goes
The fact is that still waters run deep
I’ve never been one for someone to keep
A Pisces is not for the scared or the weak
So peel back the layers to see the real me
mouse wanted his own mini-Christmas tree
he told the right cats, Poindexter and me
We were his friends, and wanted him happy
You are both nuts! Said our grand-Pappy
He is a mouse, you know he’s your enemy
but this fact is not something either of us could see
we liked chasing mouse around the house so we gave him his tree
He was ever so glad yelling “Whoopee! Whoopee!”
What battle-worn baby boomers lived through
Gentle Gen Z rug rats don’t have a clue.
Growing up street smart in subdivision
Without much parental supervision.
Boomers devoured books and magazines,
While Gen Z distil life thrills from their screens.
Going outdoors? Too much hassle whereat
Life downloads faster in an online chat.
Boomers had to climb to reach the summit -
“Too long to bother”, say Gen Z, “Damn it!”
Boomers’ love connections - hard at first sight,
Compared to Tinder swiping left or right.
OMG! Gen Z dares to attach
To someone who, in fact, is not a match.
With boomers arduous life played hard to get:
Before achieving breakthrough, break a sweat.
Gen Z have it all savvy and clever,
Their creed is wifi speed, faster than ever.
Solutions to life hurdles? Browse the net!
Sophisticate AI - better yet.
In short, the generation gap in place
As history repeats, fast forward pace.
But we unconditionally love you,
As grandparents and baby boomers too!
Well, here is the truth for you all,
since you had no idea you are a
part of one big scam called Poetry Soup
which charges you for the anthology
just so you can see your own poem,
so that means don't be upset because
you were not accepted into Anthology that
has close to a 1000 poets in it and even more poems,
they take everything and anything and pretend
like they had to read all of the works and then decide,
it is a nonsense and be happy that you did not get accepted!
My poem got accepted and i cant read it, because they want me to buy
the book just so i can see my poem in it.
Now this whole place could be a scam,
because if they can scam us through Anthology
that means they do not give three s about what we write!
Diverse Voices is a scam, Poetry soup is a scam,
the whole internet is a scam, and the only way
you will be able to accept this fact is to stop posting here,
and for over 20 years this scam has been taking our poetry
in exchange for profit of which we get 0. How is this poem for a change?
Truth hurts that is why nobody wants to hear it.
DIVERSE VOICES MY ASS!
Unfiltered
You want me unfiltered? You got it.
Plastering on a closed smile, as much as it needs fixing open.
The fact is, I can’t afford that Hollywood grin with two new front teeth.
Paying for every appointment, week by week, or month by month.
It’ll be a lot from the jump.
My mind’s a swirl of emotions,
Feeling tired beyond comprehension, I’m not joking.
I don’t know what this poem is,
Except unapologetically me.
(“Perception and Reality Merit Badge”, 2015, original oil)
It’s not enough that the Emperor was fooled
Now the media is insisting we be too.
But everyone has that innocent child within
And that child can see the truth
And all too often simply speak it.
The latest trans shooting,
And it seems all the mass shootings now
Are done by trans,
Has the media all over the world
Repeating the Canadian’s lie that it was a girl.
But anyone who looks at the actual story
Can see immediately what is true
And what is nothing but a bald faced naked lie.
The simple fact is a mental illness doesn’t become sane
By merely wishing it so.
And a mental illness which so readily murders
Is at its core Life-destroying not Life-affirming.
Boys are boys and girls are girls
And although the twain shall meet
They will never become the other.
(2/12/26)
The fact is it happens to all men
It’s only a matter of when
The horror we display
Will turn any women away
The hurt to our pride
That she will not get to ride
Our ego is hurt
With an inability to squirt
Our reactions are anger
Gone is our swagger
We felt we disappointed you
That we can’t give what is due
We don’t know what happened
And refuse to get examined
This problem is our own
The embarrassment alone
Is enough to run and hide
The fact we did not provide
You think it is you
That we cannot screw
Make it your own issue
We hand you a tissue
We need your support
Not your report
We are sorry is sometimes happens
It really does sadden
A man h
a
n
g
s
A life g o n e
They call it a suicide -
But then why is there blunt force trauma to the head?
Why does the evidence not agree with what is being said?
They reveal he is,
BLACK,
But not only that,
They claim now it is an accident
They P A N I C,
Covering up their lies,
How they despise -
Us
They d
a
n
c
e
Around the truth:
This was - MURDER,
This was - RACISM,
This fact is inescapable, for evidence does NOT lie
I don't understand.
the need to cover wrinkles up-
they are the story of your life!
I dent understand.
the need to improve on nature-
what`s wrong with accepting, you being you?
I don't understand.
the need to change your appearance-
thinking this will change your life.
I don't understand.
being too afraid to say what's on your mind
because another might see it as stepping over the line.
I don't understand.
when they state the number of friends they have-
but they haven`t meet many of them.
I don't understand.
why the opinion of someone you don't know-
is so important.
I don't understand.
what the screen says-
is more important than now!
I don't understand.
your fact is more truthful-
then the real fact.
I don't understand.
when the truth contradicts your fact-
you call it fake news.
I don't understand.
when confronted with the truth
and it contradicts your facts-
you just ignore it, hoping it will
all go away.
In the bustling halls of workplace,
there lies a quiet enmity hidden in plain sight.
A simmering rivalry that runs deep,
whispers behind closed doors and furtive glances that never meet.
On the surface, all seem polite and cordial,
but beneath the shining sheet of professionalism
lies a devious inferno.
The backbiting, the petty squabbles,
all serve to undermine a collective goal.
We pretend that all are in this together,
but the fact is far more guileful, much harder to bear.
For as long as this hidden enmity persists,
we can never truly reach our full potential or even hope to coexist.
©Chitra Arun
You're the one I can't live without.
This fact is true, I have no doubt.
I love the way you smile at me.
I love the way together we're free.
You may be strange and slightly loony,
But all this means nothing to me,
Because you are who you are,
And I can see your beauty
Inside and out,
Which is what threw me.
When every day I see you,
Till then I cannot wait.
To know what we will go through
Is in the hands of fate.
The first time that I saw you,
I knew I must steal your heart.
I hope that it's mine forever
And that we never do part.
You are the one I love the most,
And to this here fact, I propose a toast;
May we grow old and still have fun,
Because I love you and my heart you've won.
The New Morality
Trump has spoken, we get up from our chairs and salute, actually not.
The fact is, we are tired of this endless war
That is economically viable for many, an industry of death
we do not see on the factory floor where weapons are made.
A morbid industry, many states need to stave off poverty and
unemployment. Weapons used are someone’s property.
We are backward, us humans we have yet to understand that
most work is not needed, give people money so they can go
climb rocks and go fishing in the stream, swim in the ocean, and
enjoy life, which is an interval between deaths. We have finally
reached the zenith of existence, yet we, for an outdated reason, insist
everyone should work till they drop. Relax, let the Middle East
find its own nirvana.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.