Consequences of imitation
First of, limitation
No focus on future ambition
Later on impersonation
To avoid these problems
Do not be like them
To your dreams remain firm
You are a really priceless gem
After giving your best shots
Always remember you've got the guts
To do what you must
Please avoid negative thoughts
Of you they will laugh
But it will not be enough
Because you are really tough
They will have to be more rough
Achieve your purpose on this earth
Do not take your dreams developed or from birth
Back to your maker on the day of judgement
So, you will be rewarded for achieving your quests.
Life, full of one's expectations
Edge to which one thrives survival
In our minds, we are taught mortality
A way of life, sense into the beyond journey
Path to which desire rules emotions
To love another, goal of dream's reality
We all expect to live right old age
Many dying even early days we shovel dirt
Our life's expectancy, the riches to heaven
The greed of man's soul to conquer
His heart as wicked as the words he speak
As a child it all looks wonderfully enchanted
Price we pay cause we wanted to grow up
Be like others, live wild and free
We always hold a standard amongst ourselves
A way of being, doing things right way
So why do we detour our agenda to growth
That even in ourselves we kill the spirit
That to which give breath you turn evil
Society forsaken all belief to birth
Is it us we wake or impersonation we follow
Not so much our role model we walk
But time's past, history foresee before time
Life's expectancy, only death be certain
If I was a crow, I would get more respect the bunny said.
He used his creativity, imagination, and his marvelous head.
Put together a beak and wore it around for a week.
But could not caw, so his impersonation was weak.
Do you know the movie “Catch Me if You Can?”
DiCaprio stars as the perfect con man.
His exploits of impersonation and fraud
had me - as I watched the film - feeling awed.
In this film, DiCaprio’s character is Frank,
a teen who makes fake checks to cash at the bank.
A pilot this young man pretended to be
who worked for Pan Am. A montebank was he!
Frank Abagnale also pretended
to work as a doctor; when that job ended,
he was a lawyer and with riches blessed.
The FBI came; he evaded arrest.
This movie (of Spielberg’s) made money I guess
for Frank Abagnale. Nevertheless,
more than a con man was Frank; it appears
Frank was in jail during all those “con” years!
He’s more than a charlatan and swindler. Now,
Frank’s book as a movie has been a hit. Wow!
But his best con of all – every claim that he made
was all hype or big lies; and for that he got paid!
Cyber poets seeking buried treasure
filled with rushed rapture A.I’s hurried;
Robotic words never ringing no soul,
outraged console steady lagging;
Pop goes the weasel suddenly alive;
Bourgeois contrive it’s meant to be;
Left a jack in the box out of control
technology stole all the word docs;
Infinite is always within arm’s reach,
victims of a breach much too often;
Criminals that dip into a writer’s mind,
the destructive kind with quite a quip;
Murderous impersonation DM’s,
virtuous victim’s dark liaison;
Laying waste to the pen’s process it falls,
there’s nothing that calls or will impress;
Desperately seeking any sparkle,
you are not mortal and you’re stealing;
Cyber poets they cannot look within,
weak source of jargon without a hook.
A.I Chat GPT just type a topic in
and that masterpiece will spit out;
That’s all you really need to begin;
It’s the most unforgivable sin,
automatic art shouldn’t equal clout;
A.I Chat GPT just type a topic in;.
Poach what it means to be human,
write feelings you know nothing about;
That’s all you really need to begin;
Bots are a cheap impersonation,
broken tech leads to an idea drought;
A.I Chat GPT just type a topic in;
Pass us that false bravado no question,
incapable of a complex route;
That’s all you really need to begin;
You’re selected for instant publication
drowning without any depth no doubt;
A.I Chat GPT just type a topic in,
that’s all you really need to begin.
It's like going to a hardware store and buying a nail gun, which is for construction, but then you turn around and use it to kill someone. This is an impersonation of the practice of medicine.
Rapid coma, respiratory depression, hypotension,
Bradycardia, hypothermia, asystole and death.
Note.nehar, darya, jungle, picnic, inj, game..
They delight in wearing women’s fancy dresses
Intricate wigs fashioned as highly coifed tresses,
Padding in places gives them feminine curves
Appearing like that would shatter my nerves.
Entertainers par excellence, they can lip-synch
While dancing in a line together all in sync,
Laughing and joking, sometimes in a crude way
One hardly ever sees them in the light of day
Exaggerating in fashion of the highest couture
Experts in the arts, the world of pop culture,
What leads them to take up this type of show
Female impersonation, I guess I’ll never know.
I do admire their abilities, their derring-do --
Becoming sensational entertainers like Mama Ru,
Money in bras, they laugh all the way to the bank
I am happy being a man; I have God to thank!
Written November 17, 2022
The Restaurant Menu has a picture.
Three golden brown Pancakes
A large corn colored slice of butter
Melting on top running over the sides.
Griddle Cakes doing a Nathalie Wood impersonation
Drowning in a sea of thick maple syrup
Cartoon like ribbons of aroma rising upward.
The old man made them every Sunday morning before church.
Which he never attended
Black hair slicked back
Partially stained white Dago-Tee
Cigarette dangling from his lips.
The ash worming longer with each Popeye exhale
From the side of his mouth
Large bowl on his left hip
Attacking the batter with grunts of enthusiasm.
Tattoos on his arms flexing larger then smaller
Giving the appearance they were dancing.
Tatted when he was a Cook in the Navy
During World War II.
I imagined him storming the beaches of the South Pacific
With spatula in hand
"Don't need to cut'em with a damn knife.
Use your fork "
He'd holler wrestling the knife from my hand
Then throwing it into the sink.
Slapping the back of my head in anger
No Waitress wait!
I'll have the Waffles instead
With strawberries if you have them.
Yes, Waffles
We never had a Waffle Iron.
“which memories to us are near
moments of joy or those of fear”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Some like romance
Others horror films
Joys of innocence
Or adrenaline grim
Life is but a play
Which we direct
As actors we sway
Since we forget
When we do awake
We laugh at last
Burning at the stake
Was just a role cast
There is yet a catch
In the game enacted
Ego onto us does latch
Impersonation undetected
Upon so believing
That we are a somebody
The act of self deceiving
Attracts vibrations shoddy
Karma comes into force
Erased by inner cleansing
Shedding elements coarse
By love and light healing
Faster option is to recognise
In the here and now
Ceasing to weigh and size
No fears for tomorrow
Thus the so called awakening
Is merely the re-cognition
Whilst while meditating
Vibrant in blissful elation
08-December-2020
Oh army of alien blood,
you hold no fear from me,
you are nothing but a dud,
for i am nothing but cautionary.
Vampires, Frankenstein and Werewolves,
ain't scared of your trickery,
Your faces full of droll looks,
It is a true mockery.
Tales of abduction,
are now but a fashion,
a growing large passion,
high on impersonation.
Heard stories but many
victims left paralyzed,
statements far too many
of Halloween lies..
Folktales of your feasting,
heard songs of your battle,
sends everyone screaming,
say are you truly diabolical?
10/30/20
Halloween Challenge Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Emile Pinet
She was lounging in my kitchen, in her yellow leather jacket
When I cautiously unzipped it, and spread apart the placket
I pulled the garment down halfway, up until her waist,
Exposing jacket’s underside, plush and creamy suede
Fashion notwithstanding, the yellow hide belied
The character of the wearer, snuggled up inside:
Pale and unassuming, she was delicate by nature
And the prudent thing to do, was not directly touch her
So I gripped the jacket's bottom, atop the leather, smooth
Beneath the overhung bodice that I just removed;
Her head was bowed, as if contrite
Which I took off — in one big bite;
Satisfies me, as does bread
When I eat such carbs, instead
And is the reason that I, Hannah,
Am enamored by banana.
I am an echo of brilliant impersonation,
replicating melodies heard early dawn-
My feathers of grey with ebony tipped
wings glide through lavender fields
at dusk.
I favor vegetation hedges in the thicket
and enjoy living in the most beautiful
suburban area in Northern Michigan,
you should see the Great Lakes-
I fear not prey that surface at eventide,
nor do I dread the midnight darkness-
I only bask in the glory of the Summer
heat,
eating crumbs made of bread and those
tiny seeds Mr. Jones spreads out in his
emerald grass-
for none other but me.
Every night I say a meditation verse I wrote:
"Now I shall perch on the highest branch
in the brightest willow not weeping-
For he too knows I am special indeed,
as I watch my hatchlings that are sleeping.
Good night my babies...."
July 13, 2019
The Mockingbird
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
She, Gilda, would run into wall -
he, Chevy, orchestrate fumbling fall -
simply to invoke chuckle, chortle,
titter, spontaneous guffaw.
Carol’s impersonation of lone cleaner,
Bob’s deadpan unsmiling demeanor,
spoke on some basic level to all -
providing service of social screener.
She, Joan, of clever deprecation -
he, Curly, of selfless indignation -
reached for compassionate challenge
in offering gift of spiritual inflation.
Ellen’s casual, sanguine comments -
Rodney’s roguish, insightful laments -
has shined everyday light and mirrored
without lingering hint of niggling offense.
Whatever their name happens to be
it’s not that difficult to see
they loyally and lovingly portrayed
life’s rhythm, rhyme, and absurdity.
So, in this day, a friendly shout
to the individuals whom without
we might never had opportunity to’ve seen
what this strange journey is really about.
The doors to the streets are closed.
the sound of grinding has faded away
A metal worker in his shop
has stopped the clanging cymbal
of hammer beating down on tin.
both are asleep,
set aside for early light.
3:00AM
all tap, tap, tapping
gone silent.
A slight breeze
kicks up dust
from against a curb.
A rat races off to hide
And night time does it's death impersonation.
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