True highbrows can't hear commoner's pleas
Stuck sitting on their swanky settees
Status fades as affluence recedes
I'd prefer pink orchids if you please
Elitists applaud wealthy reprise
Fake posers deceive masses with ease
Think that they deserve all that they seize
So send purple orchids if you please
Fools imagine themselves on marquees
Those who would toss it all to the breeze
Who can't see the forest for the trees
Bring me more red red orchids if you please
Cultures erode when no one agrees
Innocence shrinks slowly by degrees
Fairness appears a tawdry tease
I sigh for white orchids if you please
Feel for the needy brought to their knees
My selfish world of ten thousand mes
Flowers fail as empty pleasantries
Making these moments mere niceties
Social media is a charade
A manic masquerade
Where charlatans peddle lies
And truth slowly dies
But you were led to the dance
And you thought you had a chance
So you either go ballistic
Or end up a statistic
Volatile times produce hostile rhymes
And television that glorifies crimes
We're taught to live shameless
And despite mistakes we're blameless
To them everything is a game
Laughing as you seek clout and fame
Those lives you see aren't real
But the devil made a deal
Instagram is full of posers
Facebook is full of hosers
Reality is your brochure
To disconnect and find closure
Don't be afraid of friction
As you escape the fiction
Social media is a charade
A manic masquerade
Neon days are preceded by thunder.
Neon days didn’t warn me about success,
neon days are built from the struggle;
Neon days do not show your sacrifice,
neon days attract flies to your light;
Neons days never simply appear,
neon days are the result of grit;
Neon days color heat lighting lime,
neon days hot pink crackles the night;
Neon days no one sees the hard road,
neon days you must fight through the fog;
Neon days attract lazy poachers,
neon days are rudely disrupted;
Neon days tend to show off hard work,
neon days posers want just a piece;
Neon days there are vultures that wait,
neon days you must tend your garden;
Neon days just the strong are standing,
neon days you must fight to keep them;
Thunder is preceded by neon days.
Academy Night
Actor's delight
Oscars night
Talent fight
Red carpet
Posers market
Look beaut
Penguin suit
Couture dress
Looks a mess
Premier
First affair
Accept award
They applaud
Eat dinner
Congratulate winner
Best actor
Talent factor
Producer's groovy
Best movie
Winning star
Will go far
Nights end
Egos to mend
Buzz buzz go the jet ski's,
Chug chug go the glass bottomed boats,
The speedboats race leaving a long white flume,
The water bubbles from the pool aerator.
There's all of the beautiful people who stride around like posers,
There's the strange body shapes that just let it all hang out.
There's the floats and the balls,
There's the parents warning calls.
Children learn to swim from side to side,
You can see their parents so full of pride.
With all these cellphone cameras
There's just no way we can win
We're breeding chronic posers
Shouting selfie time again
torn by rocks that bleed
Ghost Rider is haunted by
caverns’ stinking rot
desiring the throne
at Devil’s Advocacy . . .
are Satan’s mimics
these evil posers
are foiled again and again . . .
as will be Satan
March 27, 2023
for Robert James Liguori's Hell Haiku Poetry Contest
Old photo albums give a glimpse
Of how we used to look.
We try to gauge our happiness
From pictures that we took.
Some snapshots catch us laughing,
Maybe in a silly pose,
Or with clothes and hair so retro
We’re surprised that’s what we chose.
There’s a sadness, too, in pages
Where the posers, filled with mirth,
Are a stark reminder life is short
Since they’ve now left the earth.
Still, I love to scan the faces
And remember each event
When we couldn’t ever picture
All the people we’d lament.
transgender posers
pansexual persuaders
is it a fashion?
is it a trend?
like tattoos and piercings?
Is everyone going to jump on board the bandwagon?
Does saying we are transgender or pansexual make us feel unique?
But if we all say it, how unique are we?
Is it a fashion?
Is it a trend?
pretty pink ladies
on parade pose seaside to...
delight passersby
Yes indeed, I am maestro and mistress of Hare-Brained Town.
I can probably out-absurd you backwards and upside down.
My fatuous foolishness is deemed crazy by some, possibly most.
This will be taught to you in fury, as I am your elaborate host.
What was senseless and silly a second or two in your life,
Will make you dance a happy coal-fire-dance on top of a knife.
I will open your dendrites, get them to slide up and laugh.
Leave your tired ideas at home with your dull stuffed giraffe.
I am not good with posers, so lend me your dreams and your heart.
Sharing your most cleverly hidden secrets, will be the best place to start.
You can be mayor, queen, or puma mascot of Hare-brained Town.
We will start with whack-a-doodle-spinning until we both fall down.
They shuffled as an angry group
Eyes averted, as if they were ashamed of themselves
My daughter never used to be like that
But she had been ushered in,
She acted like she was one of them
Her Pollyanna side rarely came out these days.
She was wearing dark eyeliners, and had painted her room black.
I had not heard of Goth yet, for it was only the middle seventies.
Her friends began hanging around, wordlessly, on my couch.
If I came into the room and tried to converse, they left.
So I came in the room quite often.
She had lost her way, so to speak.
I knew it, but we were new in town.
She was glad to have friends, even if they were posers.
We had moved a lot. She had given up much.
She needed them at this time,
For pretend friends were better than no friends at all.
I was relieved when she decided to trade them in for the service.
The day she joined the Air Force, I rejoiced,
Figuring this bunch of angry downers would not follow her.
I was right.
They didn’t.
After basic training, she began to smile again.
And she had new friends.
God works in mysterious ways.
Hello my name is Yetti
Now know you can't forget me
Like posers part the Red Sea
Red Roses now I give to thee
?? ?? ??
Yeti.
`
Hovering like a gnat that finds a face irresistible
Swatting frantically does no good as
insects will be insects and annoying is part of their plan
As it seems each day you find a new offering unfolding its wings,
buzzing about with your dirty laundry in tow,
as if poetry has become merely a tool to harass
Finding little folders to slide into…highlighting
each word of bin fodder, old but new
hoping for accolades in lemonade fashion
Funny how that works as hatred becomes the norm,
never letting go of that scent that attracts you…
whatever it is about the human aroma you find so pleasing
Perhaps it is that it will never be you,
oh little gnat of negative words seeking only attention,
lost within the deep confines of a posers petals
To ruin our summer fair, our poetic picnic in the sun
cannot happen for you see we are happy
in our own skin, with its wondrous fragrance…unlike you
`
Don't you just hate little pests that just fly around annoying people?
If all the worlds a stage, that would explain all the posers an clowns. Where intelligence is dead and ignorance abounds. Peace an love can't be in a world of violence and hate. Humanity must pull together before it's to late. Marley said the power of love must overcome the love of power. Until that day our world becomes darker by the hour. So do your part to end hatred an greed. The tree of love grows only if you plant the seed.
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