Mocking Poems

Bestie became enemy

?? "Bestie Became Enemy" 

Bestie became enemy, sharp like a knife,
I never thought you'd cut me out of your life.
I gave you my secrets, my soul, my trust,
Now all that's left is broken dust.

You knew my pain, you held my hand,
I thought you'd always understand.
But jealousy grew where love should stay,
And now your kindness fades

Who the heck are you?

Who the heck you think you are?
You bashed my car, yet strut with flair—
Like a proud star,
Too smug to care.

Your brain's back door was left ajar;
Your wisdom vanished in thin air.
Puffed with pride that won't go far—
At best, you'll earn a mocking stare.

I Figured Out What The MockingBirds Are Mocking

I Figured Out What The MockingBirds Are Mocking

The JayBirds.

And Boy Are They Pissed.

-Gray

05-21-2025

living in a nightmare, XIX

illusion of a palmful of pills and confirmation clicks for the make-believe bliss
leave a mocking kiss on my delusional cheeks

smile for the lover's hiss because everybody sleeps
at the point the lies will blow out of your lips

then he stopped caring without an early notice
dry drawn hearts and unpaid fees

forever comes a long road, difficult to

Mocking Mbevi

Flaunting bliss like a golden medal
He struts about like a valiant prince,
Frowning at every sensible locution:
To mar and blemish and hurt and wince. 

He knows no sense
Nor appreciates status,
His bliss is supreme law:
Brain's self-breaking hiatus. 

He’s doomed to total damnation 
And kisses that fact with glee;
Beckoning his annihilation
With feather-brained mirth. 

Mocking winter

snow laughs as it falls 
one day it's sixty and then 
hail size snow pellets

Mocking the Dead

Scintillating night shimmering between the stars
darkness host flaunting loveliness
concealing and exposes wield power
encouraging serpentine walks to manifest themselves.
The nascent scent of sandalwood flows, does it mock the dead.

In the midst of midnight mystic twilight
two lovebirds sing mid purple and mauve wisteria.

Silence gently fades in an infinite cascade
Warm fraternal embrace of a blazing moon
Tension burst in

Mocking the Dead

The splendorous span of my fervent firmament,
twinkled with the tinsels of the cerulean night, 
where my yearning gleamed with transparent tinge, 
suffused with the sequins of the silver moon,
sequestered within the stream of stardust.

The beguiling breeze rippled in mesmeric moonbeam, 
with its cadence my heart beat danced,
made the mystique motif of rapturous jewelry
for my dreams

Mocking the Dead

Mocking the dead, 
A man passed by kidjaga cemetery and 
saw some folks praying for the dead. 
He was so astonished and mocked
the living ones as they seemed
to be unintelligent in his eyes. 
"How do they pray for cadavers 
who cannot see and  listen? " 
He asked a woman who passed 
near by him, 
"they

Mocking the Dead

Here I stand before hundreds of moss grown graves
There is a mournful silence that extends
Through the weed grown path, no traveller walks
The place, some morbid warning portends

Hush.... hush is this place, here no bird sings
The wind here sighs in silent pain
There is a muffled horror all around the place
Even the leaves chant a sad refrain

Here,

Mocking the Dead

Living is mocking the dead,
To dance while they rot instead,
Each breath that we take
Is a slap in the face
Cause living is mocking the dead.
Living is such a conundrum,
Every human that lives is a flawed one, 
And we hardly deserve 
Our time on this earth
So living is mocking the dead.
As the dead rest their bones in

Mocking the Dead

Pigeons, being
Pigeons,
Inadvertently
Mock the dead
As does the passing
Stray dog.
If left alone
Children
Will play among them
Witnessed
By a murder
Of crows.

Mocking the Dead

Mocking the dead,

the vampire on the hill, high
above the cityscape. Why
does his cloak wrap around?
It moves with a hissing sound,
blackened on the outside,
blue on the molten graveside.
Sharpening incisors on the crag,

but

the villagers with their worn rags
tight fisted with their goodly lights -
those lanterns, infused with salt
of garlic, compelled forward in the dead
of night. Mockers and

Mocking the Dead

Mocking the dead, is that a thing?
How many ways can one be disrespecting?
Laws that cause offenders to be free?
Rape kits that exist only to be not breached.

Little lies and big divides of right and wrong genocide.
Our forefathers could not ever predict
We would be as disrespectful as this.
Ancestors bones surely roll like river
As the wicked become

Mocking Dance of the Dead

Written: September 19, 2023
Mocking The Dead Poetry Contest           Sponsored by: Silent One 
"Do not be afraid of death. Death transforms to something wider. Death is where it all starts but it is not the end." By Poet.
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In a realm beyond the veil of life's stage,
Once

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