Long Fake news Poems
Long Fake news Poems. Below are the most popular long Fake news by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fake news poems by poem length and keyword.
The Truth or Something Like It
Aah, the truth and nothing but the truth
Who do we believe in this day and age
Where a guy named Donald spouts about fake news
And always seems to be in a rage
Who do you trust if it’s not your president
How do you get information if not from this sage
If the FBI cannot be trusted according to him
What else are we to surmise at this stage
Is there anyone left in who we can trust
Or are we permanently thrust in this cage
And just when we thought we’re as low as we can sink
Some women come forward in a display of courage
In a world so harsh and critical at best
They took a stand to spill their baggage
For the abuse from years long ago
Can be silenced no longer is their message
To all those who hide the truth
Know that we all come from the same village
The time has come to seek the truth
From those that took advantage
Hurting one of us is to hurt us all
It is time to write a new passage
Andreas Simic©
Joe Biden now rules our White House
Together with his 'doctor' spouse.
His blunders, for sure-
We have to endure;
To caring, he does not espouse.
Those mishaps, like names he misspoke-
For sure, were not meant as a joke.
But much worse by far
His failures that scar-
Appeasing the will of the woke'!
Day-one, he shut down the pipeline-
made our oil production decline.
Gas prices- despise!
While heating bills rise!
We now must import and consign!
Appalling- how he shut that door
To exit the long Afghan war!
Left our troops behind-
Their rescue declined
In spite of their sacrifice bore!
Our vast Southern border, exposed-
All previous rules- he opposed.
He let millions in
And, to our chagrin-
Come outlaws and drugs- unopposed!
Bad crimes multiply by the day;
The victims now feel cast away.
With no fines or bail,
Or time spent in jail-
No need that bad guys must obey!
Inflation's gone way off the chart;
We dread the time spent at the mart.
Less food we now choose
For his brainless ruse-
Just printing out money's not smart!
And, last but not least, Hunter's life!
This son and his dad cause us strife.
With Chinese, each deals-
While 'The Big Guy' steals;
Through quid pro quo- they become rife!
Our media hypes left-wing views-
So, therefore, presenting fake news;
When really, they should
Show bad with the good;
Lay out all the facts to peruse!
November 25, 2022
Contest: The Bidens Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Anthony Biaanco
We should do something Professor Hoose Gooser said.
Of course this was years ago, today this old coot is dead.
It is too late now said the new believers. We will be boiled alive.
You are all crazy said the ignorant. They numbered a million and five.
Climate change is a myth, the Redowner Drippers replied.
Okay agreed the Sniff Puckers, but our relatives are boiled alive.
Fake news! Screamed the Hillbillingers. Shut up you dumb clucks.
We were irritated now, especially my scientific Uncles, the Chucks.
Should we build a bomb shelter underground? People would ask.
This was done in the fifties and it was a most arduous task.
Professor Hoose Gooser appeared to me in a dream the very next day.
It is too late, he told me. Grab your ankles, jump off a cliff and just pray.
It wasn’t me that said I’m going to build a great wall
I’ll make Mexico pay! Now that takes gall
It wasn’t me that took millions from the NRA
Now he’s in their pocket and can’t take any guns away
It wasn’t me that promised new laws today
Then tomorrow forget what I had to say.
It wasn’t me that said I’d run into a school to face a gun.
When I had five draft deferrals to stay at home and have fun
It wasn’t me that everyone around, had to bail
Smart people jump ship to stay out of jail
It wasn’t me that cried Witch Hunt or Fake News
When I was cornered and didn’t want to lose.
It wasn’t me for who his advisors lied
Just to cover up things he wanted to hide
It wasn’t me that let my friends and relations
Take money and advantages of others nations
It wasn’t me that set myself up to fail
And now needs to be run out of town on a rail
3/3/2017
Collaboration with Sonny Roper a retired U.S. Navy military veteran
FAKE IS AWAKE
Is nature becoming unnatural
Some may think it could be so
What words or images are real
Levers pulled to make one feel
As the metaverse will still grow
One almost needs an epidural
A.I is close to that singularity
As no-one knows what is true
And if left to its own devices
Brings us ever closer to a crisis
All accepting the current view
And will recognise no disparity
Whether political or academic
Arguments cannot be resolved
Big Brother is now the only way
Follow the programme for today
Even raw truth has now evolved
As fake news becomes endemic
Some may recall what nature was
Not just the land, oceans and sky
But also things we all understood
Not forced to accept it was good
Now, few care if you start to cry
Failing to meet the Wizard of Oz
We are at a post war crisis
where housing people has no longer huge value
under this budget scheme electric goes up
this is after they said their would be cheaper power
with wind farms creating competition
Now this is one of the lies of our century
fake news claiming that families are 20 euro's better off
researching facts before printing garbage
that only brainwashes a few lose cannons
When insurance has almost doubled crippling the poorer people
Then if a car is over their stated age they can name their price
petrol goes up three cents before the budget
under researched facts claiming it's for Texas
shamefully when the gallon only costs two dollars fifty
deceit is playing with the deck here
With hikes in many fields people are worse of in absolute facts
as wages have fallen to an all time low
let's tell your news with researched facts
Before the budget they put 3 cents on the petrol and derv
using Texas as an excuse when we do not even get our oil from there
under certain facts this government is totally corrupt
giving themselves another pay rise push the dagger in
for running our country and it's people into the ground
This poem was a forest fire; it burned me up as I read it
I was supposedly the writer.
But was I?
Voices inside me are laughing, taking credit, kicking me to the curb.
My next poem is a blizzard.
She whirls me into a whiteness.
This turns into marshmallow crème.
I am quiet for a second,
Landing in a drift, head first, but there is no coolness.
Snow without coldness is not a poem at all.
It’s a fake poem like fake news.
I believe it best to give up now.
Maybe I am no poet at all but a prancing pony
Two steeds prance up. Dragging Cinderella’s coach.
Do not use Cinderella! My muse says meanly.
I stick out my tongue.
Cinderella, Cinderella, Cinderella.
I am easily distracted when imagination is giving me instruction.
Seventeen minutes to midnight - the world enters a new era,
nuclear arsenals reduce as peace creeps ever nearer.
Fourteen minutes to midnight - our hopes begin to fade,
as we discover no new world order, just the powder keg we've made.
Twelve minutes to midnight - there's tests on bombs non stop,
we need to sign a peace treaty to end this agitprop.
Ten minutes to midnight - Eastern Europe leaves the block,
shattering communism, the world stares back in shock.
Nine minutes to midnight - nuclear armament gathers pace,
nation challenging nation to win the world arms race.
Seven minutes to midnight - we're officially nucleoholic,
each missile's the last one, each threat of peace symbolic.
Five minutes to midnight - global warming walks on stage,
ironically nuclear power will usher in the world's new age.
Three minutes to midnight - world tensions are renewed,
disarmament grinds to a halt as superpowers obtrude.
Two and a half minutes to midnight - fake news is on the rise,
with fabricated statements, politically calculated lies.
Only two minutes to midnight - the whole world's breath is bated,
the doomsayer counting down, a holocaust long awaited.
In those two cold minutes to midnight - doomsday's knell is ringing,
announcing Armageddon, not the end but its beginning.
19th Feb 2018
We won’t remember 9/11
election fraud will be forgotten
school shootings will belong in the past
no one will talk about gun control
black, white, woman, man, illegal, homeless, rich or poor
old, young, gay, straight, native or cowboy
we will finally know equality
climate change will not be debated
Social Security and Medicare won’t be needed
all religions will bond together
the words Republican and Democrat will have no meaning
there will be no need for lies, no hate, no greed
no one will cry, fake news, fake hair, fake smile
the almighty dollar will lose its luster
no one will feel envy or jealousy
we will remember the value of prayer
no one will care about this poem
after they launch the thermonuclear warheads
He's a stable smithy
Thinks his genius words are pithy
As he pounds, pounds, pounds
Into the night
Swings his big word-hammer
Never minding lies and grammar
Cuz he's gotta, gotta, gotta
Fuel the fight
With his bellowslike ire
He stokes the fire
As it burns, burns, burns
To his delight
On his huge word-anvil
Pounds rumor and scandal
As they sizzle, sizzle, sizzle
Burning bright
Hones his words untoward
Like a two-edged sword
As they stab, stab, stab
Like a knife
As his words extrude
They can get really rude
As he pushes, pushes, pushes
Wrong as right
He's a stable smithy
Thinks his genius words are pithy
As he pounds, pounds, pounds
With all his might
***
November 30, 2019
F G I series 19 satire
Brian Strand, sponsor
***
Poetry notes:
05/26/2019
In the context of this poem, "Wordsmith" refers to any who attempt to mislead by using fake news or disinformation.
***