Simulating Poems

Divineless

Those New Gods 
evacuate the violence
simulating patience 
they were once created 
to guide us, they overtook us 
snapped our heads off 
every time we thought of violence

Those New Gods 
came to reconcile us
with the act of servile silence
we lay down let them take us
like we were beacons 
hearts captitulated in black boxes 
without god heads or sirens

Those New Gods 
with voices like cured codex 
placed us like cellos 
between steel tight legs
we were smaller violins 
our bows vaccuous and vain
crushed on Love

from the Tree
we were plucked 
divineless 



Candide Diderot. ‘24

Conventions a Freed Verse

CONVENTIONS
fastidious
  pastimes
yearnings
  for
  emotional
reactions
weaving
  apprehension
for
  pleasure
&
to encourage
freedom
 &
  frivolity
in
dreamlike
  significance
simulating
  feelings
of reality
in
a world
of
  continued
brilliance
with
possibilities
in
 breathless
tenets
naturally
  enforced

Oh, I Doo Love a Didge

Oh, how I doo love a didge.. 
Toned like one of many voices of our great Mother Earth; entrancing and slightly shamanic. 
It's how I imagine She hums to Herself, deep in Her rhythmic, rumbling ground. 
There's something about the way that humble, all consuming sound 
resonates right through my whole body and  mind - 
I cannot help but find it both soothing and simulating at the same time.. 
There's nothing quite like how, when one is played really well, 
I feel like its vibration is emancipating my soul from every cell.
Give me a long, hollow piece of wood any day.
And someone to breathe down it in that special, circular way. 
Put a good rhythm on their tongue, 
and let The Love inflate their lungs, 
and I'd more than happily spend from dawn 'til dusk 
laid flat, 
heart open, eyes closed, 
being didgeridoo'd at.

Art of Saying a Lot Yet Saying Nothing At All

An abundance of mimicked truth yet oozing falsehood 
Leaving a dubious ironic emotional attitude 
Simulating a true person’s being hypocritical 
Showed as a soul-less insanely monstrous criminal 

Recognizing ambiguity painted in your unique brilliant colors 
No matter how you curve it, your words still weigh like anchors 
Cunning are your sneaky attempts at a vagueness 
The are of your game is far from being stated as genius 

The illusion of your meaning is not being judged 
It’s the meaning of that illusion I won’t begrudge 
Twisting your morbid stories into enigmatic fables 
Trying to paint yourself as the innocent of all angels 

Conforming naive minds into perceiving what isn’t right 
Leaving one to believe it’s themself that they fight 
Perplexed a complex thought allowing deceit 
Fueling the tellers ever hunger of feeding their conceit 

Yet I do not pass judgement, you bring about that result 
The perceived illusion you brought it’s your fault
Allowing the multi talent of twisting words to your end 
The vagueness in saying a lot by saying nothing, letting no one in

The Gambler

The gambler

The night, on the other side of the bay, is a spinning roulette 
garish, the entrance to the cave of the netherworld
guns and uniforms at the place of iniquity; remove your hat, sir!
The voice is menacing, a hand gripping a gun. 

Eyes are dark pools transfixed, much to lose, one spin more
the self-loathing is a frozen grin, the light on the promenade 
throws itself into the dark water simulating self-destruction
one more cast of the dice; luck will return

There is no winner in this obscene hunt for the unobtainable
small wins are quickly lost at the wheel of hope and sorrow
one more gamble before the day awakes to more indignity
as the losers walk home in defeated silence.

The Effects of Binge-Watching

Many times I’ll watch a show,
Enough to say I’d binge.
Gone away, my mind will go,
And slowly off the hinge.

Watch enough, the show will lend,
An accent to my voice.
What that is, it will depend,
Upon my viewing choice.

Southern drawl or British twang,
Perhaps a little latin.
Simulating mobster slang,
Like I’m from Manhattan.

When I drive, I double take,
At what could be revealed.
Dragons flying by a lake,
Or zombies in a field.

Doctor shows make me believe,
That I should be one too.
Conversations interweave,
A surgeons point of view.

So I have to rearrange,
My mind to what I know.
For my brain can often change,
When binging on a show.

Halloween Nightmare

HALLOWEEN NIGHTMARE
A cracked crystal light,
ignites visions of the night.
Losing your dimension,
begins a nightmare detention.

A hologram ride,
where fears cannot hide,
theatres of terrorising thoughts,
the kind, closing eyes blind,
of a demented psychotic mind.

Faces of horror, now seen,
smeared across a slimy screen,
only you hearing the scream,
of this terrifying darkest dream,
with evil echoes of laughter,
thundering mentally louder.

Totally in a trance,
like some zombie stance,
hypnotized, mesmerized, fantasized, desensitized.
A mask of insanity,
upon your door of destiny,
to dare you deeper, in this nightmare venture.

Smashed are all signs and ways,
entering a smokey mirror maze,
a feeling of danger and dismay,
trapped with no exit way.

Seeing an illusionary shape,
simulating a silhouette shadow,
signalling your fate to escape.
A neonic storm, light stars in sight.
Angels stave and save,
from you becoming a demon's slave.

Reality returning,
as night reveals morning,
shivering and shaking,
suddenly awakening.
No longer there,
is this Halloween nightmare

Mouth of Deception

The mouth of deception Devil's verses recites simulating the voice of angels!








© Demetrios Trifiatis
   19 September 2018

Privacy Is Like Piracy

Smile is like simile 
     but simulating is unlike authenticity
Liar is like lair
     but simulacrum is unlike authenticity

Sometimes I prefer the simulated smile
     over the too honest glances of distaste
Take me to your lair, my lover
     and whisper your sweet words
     even though I know you simulate
I prefer your honey-like lies
     over your screaming honesty

My words ring authenticity
My actions ring truth
The ring you gave me
     was  a poor attempt at love
     Its fake-gold scaling off with every 
     false kiss you gave me

***

3d place in contest: Privacy is like piracy yet copy cats are unlike authenticity
Sponsor: Ir0nic ZiNk
November 26, 2016

I, the Breather

Trapped, confined in an acute establishment, a minor prison
filled with caramel desks and single colored painted walls
Sunlight is unavailable, a myth
amusement and talking are forbidden
only blinding ceiling lights and a cold winter wind lingers on
simulating a haunting of sorts
I find myself actively, actually counting 
every second, minute, hour
till the bell sounds the end of the day
I can't begin to explain how much I've had enough
I want to be on my way, another day like this I cannot take
for even I, the breather am nothing but a loner in here
These gazes falling upon me, I can live without
The murmurs and whispers surrounding, give it up, they mean nothing
fourteen minutes left, fourteen brings back so many memories
but time, press fast forward
I'm sick of life going so slowly
since I feel like I'm floating on an ocean, isolated

Dreams Fall Apart

Raindrops pelting your window,
commiserate with your pain.
And simulating teardrops;
trickle slowly down the pane.

You left home on an impulse,
chasing love at seventeen.
And although you trusted him,
he abruptly fled the scene.
 
Reality devastates;
as you comprehend your fate.
For your heart has been betrayed;
and love has morphed into hate.

Left all alone and pregnant;
you cannot conceal your shame.
And as your eyes fill with tears,
you know life won't be the same.

Your hands cannot stop trembling;
watching your life fall apart.
And anguish begins to gnaw 
at the insides of your heart.

From a fetal position;
you witness the heavens cry.
And stare up at the raindrops;
falling from a sobbing sky.

Inverse Rorshach Test

The image, at a fourth remove, recalls a Rorschach test with inverse rule because instead of spotted ink on paper simulating flowers and/or butterflies here we have flowers and butterflies simulating spots in a sort of blurred space. My mind is puzzled by this strange test recalling times at school when I had to solve problems without understanding  why.

I want the horse of fantasy to ride
To unravel this inverse Rorschach test
And win the art and poetry contest
By showing of my spirit the best side.

Were the image colors made just from ink
Dispersed on the paper at random way?
This origin of shapes is hard to say,
So we must find for them another link.

Why a butterfly white on that flower?
I think is there to make me much confused
About the way its shape was there produced 
Giving the Rorschach test inverse power.

Lowering the Union Jack, 1962

Like love ones come to view a parting ship
Before the anchor lifts
And its iron lips prow the salty waves
We journeyed from our busy day and penny pay
And the indifferent utterances to our cause
We came tattlering and joking and tired
Of the conditions simulating the bitter colonial
We wiped the bread crumbs from our mouth
Stood erect with eyes upon a pole
And watch the tricolored form slithered down
Head drooping in the gusty night
And all the while Dura drums rolling softly
Could not budge my steel convictions with fire
I felt alone in the long uproar of crowd
For I think I saw it winked an opulent eye
Before the pole flagless stood silent in naked night.

Wet Toes

 STANDING ON THE COOL WET SAND,
STARING, HONED INTO THE DISTANCE.
MOONLIT SKY INVITES ME TO WADE AND DANCE,
TAKE A DEEP BREATH IN, TAKE A CHANCE,
TO SAMBA WITH ITS OCEANIC PARTNER,
SIMULATING, TITILLATING,
A WET ROMANCE.

CONSUMMED BY THE TIDES,
CONTROL-LING TO THE MIND,
I CAN'T FEEL MY EMOTIONS,
JUST HOPING, AS I BEGIN TO YEARN,
WHEN WILL THEY RETURN???

THE WAVES INVITING,
SAY FOLLOW THEIR LEAD,
AS I PANT AND RAVE, SPEEDILY,
ENGULFED BY THEIR TRIMBLE, ROMANTICAL-LY.

THE STARS APPLAUD MY MOVEMENT,
EACH AND EVERY STRIDE,
SHINING BRIGHTER, FOREVERMORE,
AS I DANCE ALONG THE SHORE,
NUMB ALL OVER,
UNABLE TO FEEL MY WET TOES.

A Wait For My Lovliest

I was just off for your rest,

A slight deference for my loveliest,

 I was waiting a step ahead sitting alone,

You never walked ahead my prettiest.

 

I smiled at the wind,

Try kissing my lips simulating your presence,

 My senses were still pursuing you

Not even your thoughts can cram your absence.

 

The atmosphere became romantic,

Suddenly rain hugged me blocking my path,

My body still shivered inside,

Desirous towards your warmth

 

Tree showered Leaves to touch my soul,

Extraneously empowering the emotions,

My every breadth still held your name,

Waiting anxiously for your clasping promotions

 

And Still I am standing alone,

Waiting the disappearance of hazy rain,

Your stupendous presence in winding passion,

Will wipe off my whimper, leaving just “Us” without pain.

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