Short Fakery Poems

Slowly

Slowly but steadily
Shyness is wearing out as
Fakery starts to stir...

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I don’t like much poetry,
as I dislike most modern art,
there is too much fakery, even here,
in these paltry words, the effort
not living up to standards
I set for myself and others, unfairly,
but still bothersome....

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Fake jewelry fake tree, fake fur, a fun-filled faker’s life 
Artificial flowery fakery, fake man, fake wife. 
Fake you, fake me, fake compliments, fake boobs they surely be, 
Unknown feelings, hidden.  Fake you, can you see fake you and fake me?...

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The Deep fake era is upon us 
?Every thing is fake these days?Everything is a fraud ?Prepare for the deep fake world 
Fakery, fraud, and falsehoods abound
All artfully done 
Killing the last shred of human decency left
Everything is a deep fake 
these days...

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I can be a wretched fake, in private, intimate performance.

I’m an actress capable of imitating spontaneous pleasure -
by tricks of hesitation, convulsive vocal play and postures.

A mimicry undetectable to an immediate spectator.

Aww, thank you, I’ll sigh, as if leaving a good party.

“I’ve got a lot of homework to do,” I’ll add, a minute later.

To clear the stage....

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In a gold miner’s camp shiny pyrite
Showing a metallic excellence
Prettier than the real thing
Oohs and ahhs are all around
Pyrite shared happily
Revealed at last
Losing her lore
Fakery
Untrue
Gold
Lone
Pyrite
Angel’s rock
Optimism
Exuding with hope
Has her own properties
Miner’s camp comes back to life
A gorgeous stone is this pyrite?
Appreciated for herself now
Compared to no other rock or metal...

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I am not here to impress you
Even though your eyes you undress 
No adornments or fakery
For nature has blessed me
With strong heart , clear thoughts
Walking with stealth
Even though you may detest me.
I am a force of nature
No one can test me
I am secure in my love 
Even though you detest me
Nor your fake smiles
Silent whispers, cunning plans 
Can unrest  to me,
Now that I declared myself
Will you bless me?...

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out of nowhere

awaits shaded,

visions, for those

with fairish perception,

purged of fakery and

symbolic falsehoods.

my chapters in

history tout no

shadows but my own

even my jaded version

a bronzed patina.

more comforting times

than present express

stanzas of times in

seasons –

times to embrace

times for refrain

times to purpose

peace as we stand

on the edge of time

turn, turn, turn...

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