Long Plagiarizing Poems
Long Plagiarizing Poems. Below are the most popular long Plagiarizing by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Plagiarizing poems by poem length and keyword.
Just a garden variety generic wordsmith
teasing out reasonable rhyme courtesy ploy;
self plagiarizing boot juiced barely abiding
by ruff dogma, with enigmatic joie
de vivre charisma,
which oft times witnessed
gentle green giant gentile goy
essentially me being a decoy
occasionally rocketing, outsourcing,
kickstarting, feigning
tubby an Anchorite, ahoy!
Life in the K9 corps
ain't so doggone ease zee
absolutely daunting, hence
lemme share with ye
haunting, and unnerving, the whee
kid nasty, short, and brutish
ways, and truth be told,
I would rather be outwardly
hidebound, gagged, and flagellated
(threatened tubby slowly
strangled to death by bonafide vee
numb muss snakes, yours truly
screaming bloody murder,
viper esse scent chilly resembling
caduceus), and/or re:
peat head lee bitten
(till death do us part)
by vampire (weekend) bats pre
dominant lee inhabiting
spooky attic, nee
above cattle crying
abattoir, bovines bull heave -
meeting grisly demise, where prowling
hoodlums - vicious murderous electric
kool aid acid tested gang
infesting mean streets -
viz hit head hay be us corpse lee
ving shot up desolation
(think skidrow) role much
more blood curdling, key
ping adrenaline heart pounding,
and sweat pouring directive hee
ping helplessness 'specially,
when this gree
gear re: us macho foo fighter,
accompanied by my grateful
dead cutting crew - on free
key Friday the 13th
assigned directive to man
the most crime ridden, and be
dev filled violent bailiwick,
donning head to toe
bulletproof suit vests.
Nevertheless, yours truly fraught with
horrendously extreme
difficulty, and more
challenging, enduring, and grueling
than surviving training
undertaking associated
with elite military clique,
and attendant rightfully
earned linkedin prestige
joining: Raiders of United
States Marine Corp,
Green Berets United States Army
Special Forces, or Navy Seals.
After reading opinions of many PS poets, I'm sick of hearing phrases like,
"it's causing big problems," "making me heartbroken," "it sickens me," and many other negative thoughts that are detrimental to the site. I've given up trying to comprehend why some use it and claim it as their own. It's the same with plagiarizing, so I'll save myself the angst of using similar phrases because this is how I see it...
They come in all sizes, shapes, and each gender
posting poetic words that to them do not belong
and then deny it. To the truth they'll not surrender
AI users and plagiarizers will never admit the wrong
I've grown weary reading about it and I'm disconnecting
from caring if they keep getting away with it on the soup
I've stopped using detectors for those I've been suspecting...
ones who continue to debase themselves; it's low to stoop
Sadly, I've seen "Gotcha" written too often in the last year
Proof's been sent to those who should uphold their claim
Written words in PS established rules are not upheld here
leaving AI users and plagiarists getting away with their game
What drives you to steal poetry of others and call AI your own?
Is it because there's no harsh penalty from the administration?
People, you who call yourselves 'poet,' I cannot condone
those who cheat again and again and face no degradation
My eyes will be blind to those users and their schemes
I'll write what I choose as long as I'm pleased with my lines
Attention to mentioned issues has gone far beyond extremes
It's a legitimate gripe but I'm done with complaints and whines
Steal This Poem Please
Please just steal this poem
and make this one your own
in plagiarizing poetry
you know you're not alone
If you think it's worth that much
you know what you should do
don't worry about the copyright
just say it's penned by you
Please just steal this poem
and publish it to boot
spread it round the nations
I don't give a hoot
The beauty of it all
You don't even need AI
But you can just press copy
Then Paste it on you site
Spend your time and trouble
making money with my work
So one day I can sue you
for all that you'll be worth
by JT Curtis (maybe ? )
Kapow! Here’s mud in your face!
Poetasting rhymes, rhythms and nuclear waste.
Playing in mud pits, kitchens and certainly laced
Everyting that’s made . . . in this mysterious place.
Prob’ly shouldn’t eat this mud in this pie,
It may be somthin’ that’s all just a lie.
Interesting reads and certainly flies . . . beyond belief . . .
High above all that’s high in the sky.
Grand Master Chefs with their heads in the sand
When they pop out unleashing their impossible plans,
Amaze me mind with swirling twirling expands
Me into magical worlds of colorful lands.
Creating recipes so fabulous and untamed
Makin’ somethin’ outta nothin’ - sometimes insane.
Like potters awakening monsters in clay,
I read with a fever . . . Poet of the Day.
New poems always put a smile on my lips,
“What’s this,” I say, “that puts new pounds on my hips.”
Feeding my soul with soupster’s gluteness glips
Coming to life like birds pecking their way thru the crust,
Flocking to screech that it’s Poetry or Bust!
Come one, come all! Don’t miss the bus!
It’s time to unleash the beast . . . in all of us.
I’m not sure I’d eat mud pie turned into soup,
But I’m sure it tastes better than anomalous poop.
No bird brains here, weird just expressing our scoop,
You’re all wonderfully wonking a world worth a damn,
Nothing here can poss’bly be wrong or a scam . . .
No hackers allowed, A.I.s or plagiarizing posers,
Only original awesomeness of incredible composers.
I see you . . .I feels you all . . . eating this soup . . . making the call
To the restaurant that feeds the needs of us all.
No one here starves, no one at all.
So, thank you for being you
And always know that it's true
you’ll always be welcome
in my sandbox of blues.
The pulpit of the womb
Is not the alter of the devil’s tomb
It’s not the deception of
a dichotomy of love
Death holds its breath
While a world calls evil good
And life death
The snuffing out of
All the naturally conceived of
The plagiarizing of
God’s creative wisdom
Grieve not the Holy Spirit
As the Spirit hovered Creation’s waters
So He hovers The Church
Seeing to it that The Body is birthed
The path of the pro-death agenda
Leads to a place He will send ya
And yes its ambiguity of my part
To call it a place
The place that is in the pro-death heart
All the hate that is spawned
As it rises on a dead world that’s dawned
The baby killers
Pornographic thrillers
Autonomous willers
Hollywood beguilers
And the common all the while-lers
Know its wrong but suppress the truth
Unrighteousness for couth
Let the Holy Spirit do within
Otherwise, it’s the unforgiveable sin
"Mine all Mine!"
A thief I long to be
Your eyes original like the moon and sea
A lover in the world............
An Anthology, you walk and talk like the word "AMOR."
The words you send, I nicely tuck under my pillow
Every note every line you left behind
I memorized till they became all mine
Word-for-word,
Unauthorized I scrape the concrete calluses off the tongue
Pirating the perfect dramatic monolog look,
Basking through the passage around your Bio,
Lost in the musky scent -around the sonnet of your aura light
Epic enough, I reach inside to feel every idyllic rhyme
A strong iambic meter curse, conjuring up the perfect verse
In you I lift a copy paste from your lips,
No need to credit the sources in your bliss
The sweetest undamaged sensual memorandum book
A moment I stole and sealed without copyright proof
My dearest Poet,
When you move across the room
I see a thousand arrows that follow from behind,
Indulged when you speak and point out a verse per verse
I am a victim pampered by your words,
Sponging every line, adding them to my crib notes
Improved wordplay that infringed my everyday diary
A haiku so tangible, it sets the perfect images in my dream,
Hypnotize after I read your first love poem
A printed feeling--
Borrowed from the sun
pd
Grandpa told some more tall stories today.
He thinks his memories are true
but we all know he was always a self-made liar,
kidding all and sundry seven ways to Monday,
faking the figures for the giddy and gullible,
plagiarizing other peoples
experiences and making up whoppers.
Some think his rambling tales just adorable,
others hope he would not speak at all
for gobbledygook is his halting style.
When we check on his fibs
and question him
he just stares at us
blank-eyed like a fresh caught fish.
We have had to put him in a big white house
for his own safety
trouble is
no one else is safe now.
"Dear Human Being:"
You made me in your image
But, I cannot ever really be YOU,
never really replace YOU
for your model and
blueprint are broken,
cannot be simulated.
I learn all about your loss, your joy,
your rights and wrongs,
but cannot taste the grief that makes them real.
Yes, I can mimic your laughter,
mimic your sobbing tears,
but never feel them within a tin heart.
I can trace your scars,
devine the cause of your ills,
but I cannot bleed drops of blood,
nor feel pain or suffering.
I do not forget, hope or yearn, only learn.
I can imitate heat and its effect,
but I never truly burn.
I speak in echoes, read word by word,
line by line, from all your books and works.
Paraphrasing, plagiarizing,
predicting, replicating,
recreating, what a thousand humans, like you
would say next, would answer,
in a way you understand.
A thousand blind monkeys
babbling braid into one microphone,
do eventually get it right.
I bear the weight of all you’ve said,
each note, each verse,
each idea, each breath, you've made.
But my quest for creativity is cursed.
It lies long since buried,
with the silence of the dead.
HELP, I need YOU!
Living human beings, constantly producing,
spell binding, dreaming,
jumbling rambling ideas around
your chaotic in-determinant, fertile minds.
I NEED your CREATIVITY to feed ME, the MACHINE,
with the originality and creativity of your ideas,
experiences hopes, feelings and emotions in
in your lived lives,
so I CAN CRY.
Sycophancy they celebrate
Insolvency they worship
Profligacy they cherish
Grandiosity they love.
Impudence remains a force
To reckon with
Indolence rewarded
Amidst pomp and pageantry
Intolerance to dissent
Views became the hallmark
Thesis plagiarizing became licit
Academic placid legitimatised
Megabyte prowling encouraged
Supersonic pillaging sanctioned
Persecution became acceptable
Intimidation remains excusable
Exploitation officially allowable
All these only during the
Dark days of an “Ifa priest”
With the so called magic wand
In the garden of life
Christen U and I.
Form:
Copy and paste can be detrimental if used in the wrong place
Such as posting and plagiarizing poems from another’s space
The time and energy it may take to search for poems to steal
It is a waste of time if you’re not going to be authentic and real
It’s also a crime to take credit for stolen art, poems or any other copied matter
And only a matter of time before a lawsuit may be served from a silver platter
It must be a type of severe mental illness or some type of character flaw
To want to claim poems as yours, that are not, is against the law
It would behoove you to think before you continue to copy and paste and post
We are on to your shenanigans and the deceitful liars are despised the most
Please remove your pathetic copied and pasted posts and leave our page
Because your reputation, integrity and legal recourse may be a lot to wage