Short Debunk Poems

Listen to poem:

Your garden beckons holistically,
Dig more holes please!
Deep, hollowed out, cavities
For springtime debunk, revival....

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Drunk, in a funk, a lowly punk, I shrunk from a skunk.  It stunk. Away I slunk.  I too stunk, I thunk.  I took a dunk and sunk.
A chunk or hunk of B.S. or bunk?  Please debunk....

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Word generator, don't debunk it,
whatever it throws out,don't junk it,
with some forethought I might
get this Limerick right,
it appears I have- who'd have thunk it?

Word generator produced 'forethought'.

4th February 2016...

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Will we feel our love when we are dead?
The moon and rocks off to the sky
What are these if not had been lead?

Will our joy and tears perspire forever?
But soon the clock nods to a sigh
Are our children our only endeavor?

The ale is drunk, our fears trunked
As we stalk to noon, But why?
Alas debunk, our fears confront
Soft comes a lullaby...

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She was born with wings
Hiking boots and inklings
Urges to run out and explore
She just couldn't ignore
The gnawing curiosity
That grew with ferocity
A tomboy with spunk
Uncovering stories to debunk
Wanderlust with a mission
Of the noblest ambition



submitted on June 10, 2020 for contest BRIAN'S SELECT B sponsored by BRIAN STRAND

originally posted on August 18, 2018...

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Who knew old bossy
crooned on the streets of Anatevka?
She fiddled around as a marine;
and a matchmaker on Broadway.
This Golden Girl, Auntie Mame,
Bea Arthur, served her country
then lent her husky voice to debunk
Archie, putting him in his place.
This Archibald served in the Big One
fictitiously, but wow, the one
who’d jump into Maude’s skin
was a World War II Marine.

1/17/2023...

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There’s a not-so-fine line
Between antiques and junk.
Some objects of “value”
A pro may debunk.

While others, so old
They are covered in rust,
Seem worthless, so passing
Them over’s a must.

Still, it can be fun
Checking out all the wares 
At various flea markets,
Shops, booths and fairs.

It takes a keen eye
To uncover some treasure,
But poking around
Brings a “Look at this!” pleasure....

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Funk bedunk me sterile mind 
A kind not built for corporate wild 
Style not fitting compromise 
Wrecked the dreamer full beguiled

Pickled mind no way returned
Worked away the essence burned
Told the lies to keep the path
Exposed the truth the lying math

Then you see your brother die
Still in bondage to the chase
Maxims never justify
Growing old and losing face

Fred Jagenberg – July 14, 2019...

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Other terrorists have overtaken,
invaded and captured,

have consolidated, merged

and dispersed.

It's a mess.


Splinter groups
have assailed the other's,
infiltrated, established pockets of
of doubt and confusion.


Conspiracy theorists
claim that we ourselves
are those other terrorists.


Other's counterattack
with long lists of demands
hoping to debunk and distract
from that kind of

terror talk....

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