How can these dupes called humans
shine a light of ten thousand lumens,
writing something wise or smart
with feeling and with heart?
These morons walking on two feet,
if you ask me, are obsolete.
Using religious piety,
To spread hate in society,
Cancer masquerades, to destroy
Using every malignant ploy,
Spreading spite - feigning honesty,
Thriving well as a fallacy -
A wolf with warm deceptive eyes,
Charms one and all with its disguise.
Its rule is avid bigotry,
Feasting on the minority,
Spreading uncontrolled all-around,
All of compassion’s voice is drowned.
Breaking walls; tearing hearts apart;
Hateful seeds sown in every heart.
Muzzling dissent, playing a perilous game,
Fascism is this cancer’s treacherous name.
Copyright © by Crystal David John
God posts to my heart daily,
Unfiltered by media man --
In touch with Spirit Divine
Truth, less out there than
In there – From CNN, ABC,
And their likes, when asked to
Subscribe, I politely decline.
Masquerading couple did the cha cha cha
They were here for New Orlean’s Mardi Gras.
We saw them coming and we gave them a gentle wave.
Their waltz was original, inspired, and extremely brave.
Mysterious Mumbo micron meanders most monochrome mornings
Merry Mickey monster makes mentionable mackerel marmalade
Michigans maleficent mayor maimed Mrs.Maryjane May Marlow
Mumbling meager monarch mumbles making Muncie memorable
Minute minions marched missing marshmallow marsh
Montana mistresses mixed millions, mincing megaphones
Marvelous misguided monkeys mimed minutemen,
Milly mistakenly met misogynist men making mincemeat
Marty’s munchable muffins mysteriously melted
Mystical memories mischievously met Merry Mickey
Missouri's mania maybe mystifying many Minnesotans
Moppish meanies mislaid miniscule Mississippi maps
Magnificent marauders masquerading magically might mean
Messy mollusks masticate marbled marigolds momentarily.
Maybe.
Moreover, momentous mosquitoes might make marvelous mini-muffins mixing marmalade momentarily.
Meanwhile
Minnie made monthly memories merely medicating masses
Mediocre men mysteriously manufactured man-made missals
Might mean
Millionaires mystify magical muggles’ meager melodies making
Magnifying, mollifying mortifying mind-blowing majestic missives.
Moreover,
Mummies, mammograms, mushrooms, minks, musicians,
Models, maestros, minions, muskrats, merry men
May
Momentarily medicate marvelously magnificent marauders.
Meanwhile
Mary May memorize multiplication minimizing
Mark’s Mother’s marmalade mini-muffin memory.
M might make momentous mountain-mincing molehill.
airbrushing ~ counterfeit perfection
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Poet: Ken Jordan
Poem: Masquerading
Edited by: Sparkle Jordan
written: November/2014
There you
are
Mr. Williams,
Sir.
I have
to
compliment
your taste
in
clothes.
You are
the
"best dress"
man,
down here
in
the Tenderloin -
where
everybody
is
hustling
to
survive -
Know one
living
down here,
can
afford your
style -
You always
look
casket sharp,
in
your suits
and
Stacey Adam
shoes.
Why ,
if I had'n
ever
seen you
before
Sir -
I'd
say you
where
a professor
of
sorts.
Mr Williams,
Sir,
you are
the
coolest cat,
down here
in
the
Tenderloin -
Walking past their witching cackles
and Phantom screams I noticed
them all looking the same
External, different
Masquerading they all were
pulsing to the rhythm of
their hearts and music
Symphony of noise all around
Internally they are all different
each their won unique voice,
look, feelings, they only differ
from the masked appearances
all of them united in their
dance. They internally do not
know each other, their
Suburb homes, Suburbian
life, faking rap/hip-hop
appreciation, they don't know
each other and yet, masked
on this night, they still don't
The moonlight allows me to
see the truth of this Masquerading
Troupe of Suburbia.
Who am I today?
Don't want to make myself known
Want to stay incognito
So you won't really ever know me
Hidden away
Carefully guarding her secrets
Don't really want to know me
Not the real me
Consumed by madness
Timid with a touch of lemon
Dreary life day by day
No excitement
The life of a preacher's wife
The heart of a harlot
The sins of a sailor
Don't want you to know me
Not the real me
So I will continue with this masquerade
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