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Nat Lipstadt Dec 2021
Mark Twain to Helen Keller

“Oh, dear me, how unspeakably funny and owlishly idiotic and grotesque was that “plagiarism” farce! As if there was much of anything in any human utterance, oral or written, except plagiarism! The kernel, the soul—let us go farther and say the substance, the bulk, the actual and valuable material of all human utterances in plagiarism.

For substantially all ideas are second hand, consciously or unconsciously drawn from a million outside sources and daily use by the garnerer with a pride and satisfaction born of the superstition that he originated them; whereas there is not a rag of originality about them any where except the little discoloration they get from his mental and moral calibre and his temperament, which is revealed in characteristics of phrasing.”

Mark Twain
Unpolished Ink Dec 2020
My poems may not be all that good
not near as much polish as they should
some of them wither on the vine
but *******
at least they are mine!
Plagiarists get your own toys
You took my words
Made them your own
Didn’t give me credit
Or even throw me a bone
The lack of ethics on full display
Front page news
The headliner today

(Make this a safe place to be
For a writer to feel free)

Plagiarism : to copy and pass off (the expression of ideas or words of another) as one's own : use (another's work) without crediting the source

From the Latin word plagiarius meaning“kidnapper”.
Posting or copying other people’s work and taking credit for yourself is wrong.  The ransom you pay is your ethics...maybe more
Let not rage relieve peace off her duty
That is the mood of a woman when another takes away her beauty
For what is left a shine on the face of iron when it gets rusty
So don't see someone's honouring event as your party
Don't especially with impunity
That's no pay for a person's ingenuity
It's evil coveting someone else's ideas your property
Plagiarism destroys creativity
It is honour stripping activity
Dip your mind into the well of creation and draw out the complexity
Then understand how it is to create
And appreciate how plagiarism makes creativity emaciate
Like a mother hurts when her child is in pain
A creator feels when his efforts are being rendered a vain
Credit he who credit is due
And earn honour for your own efforts too
Written by Wise Makafui Afun

Plagiarism is killing creativity. It is sad how hard efforts are rendered useless because of plagiarists.
It is just appropriate to honour the efforts of people by not converting their works or copying portions of it without permission and acknowledgement.
Francie Lynch Mar 2020
Don't touch my poetry
Unless you're a plagiarist.
It's infectious.
Jaxey Aug 2019
I've tried to write
So many poems about you
But you're beauty is copyrighted
And I don't believe
In plagiarism
Sad poet
Brian Yule Mar 2019
When they look back on me

Let them all swear

He always stole diligently

Oft-times unawares

& If he plucked on your heartstrings

Another man's chords

He only piggybacked to reach higher
Nigel Finn Oct 2018
I sometimes take words that were first used by others
(I'm About to admit I'm a bit of a crook)
Re-hash and re-use them, and make my own covers-
Stealing little known lines from an eloquent book.

I've stolen from Shakespeare, yanked words off of Yeats,
And pilfered from Plato and Brown;
I've probably swiped stuff off all of the greats,
And many of zero renown.

There's more to be heard in the wise words of Wilde
Or took from a Tennyson line
Or the thinking out loud of an inquisitive child,
Than could spill forth from this pen of mine.

So if I've stolen from you, and perchance have offended,
(Yes- I'm about to steal Shakespeare again)
Just think but this, and all is mended;
Nothing original came from my pen.

Which means that, eventually, all that I've ever done
Will be lost in the shadows of time,
Skipped over, or lost, and simply outdone
By your works original shine.
For the record- I do try and admit to my word thievery when I'm aware of it. So much of it's unconscious though, that I doubt I'll ever know of all the occassions I've done it.
Andrew Rueter Aug 2018
I'm born
In war torn
My ripcord
I pull for liberation
Alienation aviation
Away from a station
Of no relation
Where their elation
Lies in degeneration

The fright fair
In sight there
Is a right scare
But light flares
From an illuminated theater
I dive into art
To fill my meter

I consume
Darkened tomb
Screen in room
Is where I loom
Inspiration blooms
From a sense of doom
My separation reparation
That will lead to veneration

My artistic fervor
Drifted further
Drifter's murmurs
Lifted learners
But gifted murderers
Shifted girders
Of shame and honesty
To my grave of modesty
Where they prey upon me

This plagiarism
Layered schism
Cratered rhythm
Of great decisions
Now I make incisions
With repetition
And the definition
Of words stolen from me
They're all I can see
And I can't get free
Or just let it be

Consumption disruption
At this junction
I can't function
A plagiarist
****** mist
Grips my fist
Makes me wish
I don't exist
I must resist
Before I miss
My chance at bliss

They're ****** me
By aping me
Making me
Shaking trees
Of bumblebees
With rumble pleas
On humble knees
Drinking antifreeze

Nobody cares
What's fair
They bear
And share
Blank stares
Up stairs
Of artistic compromise
Integrity lost in lies
They're not that wise
I hypothesize

My baby
Caught rabies
From Hades
Now ladies
Flock to a thief
Giving me grief
Beyond belief
In my coral reef
Sword in sheath
I drown discreet
Can be found in my self published poetry book “Icy”.
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