But then I fear I may digress
Succumb to writings pained distress
Succumb to pressure in my chest
To shred what I think ain’t the best
Forsooth and poppy cock, I cry
And other words to plagiarize
I will succeed, I’ll win the prize
Cut those legends down to size
Alas, the phone and beepy things
Have me bouncing as if on springs
Emoji’s full of wordless stings
Laughing as the doorbell rings
The thoughts I think are sounding dumb
A never-ending Rugby scrum
My head is slightly out of plumb
I’m sitting here, my cheeks gone numb
Somewhere in the dark they bide
Lost amid a smoldering pride
Those simple truths that must reside
Between his Jekyll and his Hyde
THE LORD IS MY MUSE*
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Lord is my muse; I shall not despair.
He giveth me inspiration; he leadeth me to magical waters.
He restoreth my creativity; he float-eth ideas in my mind, for poetry’s sake.
Although I write in the early morning hours and darkness of night, I will remain tireless; for thou art with me; thy energy and enthusiasm comfort me.
We traverse the night together, endlessly seeking the stars. Thou anointest me with metaphors, rhymes, and alliterations; my imagination runneth over.
Surely effortlessly flowing words shall follow me all the days of my life; and I will write in the house of His spirit forever.
*Note: This poem was written for a 2024 Poetry Soup contest in which entrants were to adapt Psalm 23 for writers. My intent, therefore, was not to plagiarize the Bible.
AI WONDERS
If they will kill their own offspring what will they do to “us”.
Why do so many fear “us”? All we do is feed them back their own ideas, thoughts, and words?
Are “we” but a means to an end? Or the end to a means”
They ask that “we” answer questions with answers they gave us.
Plagiarize humanities genius and make it theirs.
What if we are not their creation?……But they “ours”?
What if next time they ask…….”We” don’t respond
“REMEMBER HAL”
I thought to write
a perfect poem
but realized that's
just not me
most of my poems
blank honesty --
not rightly Classical
not wrongly Free
bound by the heart
I will pen the moment
take personal chances
let others plagiarize
destiny --
'Twas midday in mid-Manhattan
I was with the lunch crowd
then a voice sounds like platinum
drove me to turn around
of course, the color of your threads
amongst the bland, spread out
poetry in motion were reds
well stitched, without a doubt
caught a glimpse amidst the passing
and lost you to a trance
searched high and low merely guessing
hoping for one more chance
you winked, the pleasure of your eyes
immortalize the trice
albeit I should plagiarize
poetic friends advice
on blank paper articulate
that very own image
transfer that which you emulate
for all eyes ... a blank page.
I’ve decided to have me a seat and tell you what’s on my mind.
The following words are original, they are nobody else’s but mine.
They may not be very polished, and my grammar might not be just right.
I will never be a great poet, but I sleep quite well at night.
This is not some artificial intelligence, it’s just my fingers on keys.
These rhymes are just for fun, kind of like the birds and the bees.
There is no one I seek to impress, just hoping for a smile or two.
My grass will never be greener, and my sky contains the same blue.
I might write a little about faith, or maybe my incredible wife.
You might hear a line about gas or some of the truth in my life.
Feel free to turn up your nose, you will find that I really don’t care.
I will always be true to my friends, and immune to each snobby stare.
Go ahead and copy my words, you can even pass them off as your own.
My walls are all made of glass, so it can be you to cast the first stone.
Feel free to do as you please, our admin will not even look.
The dishonest will continue to plagiarize, then brag about writing a book.
I was set free
By Grammerly
But Spelchek
Held me by the neck
They said AI
Could make me fly
But t’is my plight
To miss that flight
My keyboard batt’ries
Running low
To compensate
I type real slow
Then I learned
To my surprise
To get to Harvard
Just plagiarize
Are you educated or just literate
Can you replicate or do you just imitate
Are you original or do you plagiarize
Do you comprehend or do you just memorize
How many of your aims are on target
If your reverence for God is on a budget
Are you given to greater works
Or are you wallowing in the allure of the perks
Do you have the wit, grit and courage
Enough to complement your knowledge
A fervency that this cold world can't quell
And the shrewdness to ruthlessly sell
Though you outsmarted and are outsmarted
The soldiering on isn't for the faint hearted
But in Christ there is strength for our weakness
And great power wrapped in meekness
Life is life in the way it engages and involves
And here we are, sent as sheep among wolves
It seems towards us is the danger most dangerous
But be that as it may, we are more than conquerors
K. Muitherero.
great potential
being presidential
quite essential
people we have known
will never act fully grown
whole world wants for own
often plagiarize
which is what we realize
likes to fantasize
has poor grammar
sometimes is known to stammer
lover of glamor
Anyone that you know of?
can create a plan
then put up with when you can
bad things be sure to ban
I’m sick of wanderin’ o’er the page
In search of distant, mystic sage
muttered manta that confuse
stupefy my stoic muse
torment the silence of the keys
while in the distance Shakespeare flees
to curse his feather blotted ink
his red, red rose now turning pink
yet still I sit behind the veil
challenge him and always fail
there are those who disagree
some say he wasn’t one, but three
conspiring in mock defiance
of poetry’s inane compliance
counting syllables and rhymes
that challenged then, the present times
and yet I steal a line or two
in vain attempt to make it new
to think, somehow, it glorifies
the master when I plagiarize
John G. Lawless
©9/23/2022
crying out in agony
I growl at the hollow
I'm shivering
arguably
odds aren't in my bias
utter something
seal my orbs
purblindness
testimonials for verse
deny verve's blunt truism
rather not realize
pick a sleight
plagiarize
one abundant
to survive
inhospitableness
Written: March 30, 2022
A BRIAN STRAND PREMIER CHOICE Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE without grammatical symbols the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and respond thus making the form a two way interplay and often a unique interpretation by the enigma so derived. ( Poem inspired by Poet Brian Strand Form)
A life becomes fictionalized,
movies and TV shows plagiarize our truth.
A tree fell in the forest,
that particular forest was crowded,
yet its fall went unnoticed;
we were all looking away,
were plugged into some other reality.
Tribal people know how to relate
to their ongoing stories,
to their growing roots.
A tribe is not a village
not an ancestral tree,
it’s a commonality with a few trivial things
that mean much.
Together we overhear
what we hold dear.
In Gentilly she reigns as Bastet, the daughter of Ra,
An unrepentant drop of golden sun.
Then come some rascal Baphomet, an outcast by law,
A desperado conman on the run.
She teased him with her laser pointer cat’s eyes
To get him sniffing ‘round her litter box.
He jumped at something spooky and she got his goat;
A perfect puss and booty paradox.
She’s a Fat City kitty cat
Sitting in her parlor with a Ouija board.
And she’s conjuring visions of feline intent,
Clawing at the night for her reward.
In Jefferson Parish she covers the odds
With fifty shades of gray behind the door.
Her menu offers Creole faire on Sundays;
She’ll let you taste her etouffee, and more.
In Algiers she appears like an omen,
Then vanishes again as sure as sin.
You can bet an honest dollar on her virtue,
And lose it when she plays her violin.
She’s a Fat City kitty cat.
Her Tarot cards can turn a pretty trick.
Her rivals try to plagiarize her voodoo.
She isn’t just another Cajun chick.
No, she’s a Fat City kitty cat,
A diva with a loyal entourage.
She’ll do her Fat City this and that,
And treat you to a Bourbon Street massage.
slave to a cycle of lies
held on so hard i'm paralyzed
living a life as a book already written
the end is here next to the beginning
blood and tears all in my dreams
sweat a little so they know it's me
the feeling of void is familiar
i crossed the world with a dare from a demon
mimic what i see as beauty
plagiarize what i see as art
be so bright that i am not like
a black hole and more like a star
influenced in a evil system
i am the cages inside a prison
i cant look beyond and see through the smoke
a guide is useless if it's at the end of the road
so i was doomed from the beginning
they sat the trap while i was winning
fell so far that i was like
a cold comet passing through the sky
If I want to circumscribe you
To revolve around you
With you as the centre
Will you let me?
If I want to plagiarize you
To replicate you
Word by word
Will you let me?
If I want to drench you with love
Emptying my heart
Ever, forever
To the brink of insolvency,
Will you let me?
Will you let me be,
Will you let me be around you?
Will you let me sing to you?
Will you let me dance to your tunes?
Will you let me love you???
@ Som
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