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Antino Art Aug 2019
I am the only Asian in this bar right now.
Be my friend!
I will check the box of your social diversity quota.
Granted, I only speak a mispronounced fraction of
my immigrant parents' native tongue.
Ala Jackie Chan, I do not understand the words coming out the mouths of anyone on that massive continent (Russia included) that I appear to be more or less from.
But, I do eat spaghetti with chopsticks.
I am mystical as
fox, or Kitsune, in Japanese folklore.
I can hit you with wisdom worthy of a fortune cookie as fast as Google can tell you that the Philippines is nearly 2000 miles away from China. I want to say I'm from an exotic island where they play basketball in sandals and drink soda from plastic bags- like, A-level material you could make a movie out of in Slumdog Millionaire fashion and get awarded for your romantic portrayal of poverty you think is three worlds away from home. But nah, I'm just a kid from South Florida. Paved driveways and cul de sacs. But I do pump both fists in the air watching Manny Pacquio PPV fights on a bootleg stream. Beyond that, I'm probably the worst Asian there is. Not the crazy rich kind with a PHd. I dropped out of engineering after one semester and cannot solve a rubix cube. I never learned kung fu. Though I'm learning to face the adversity of becoming a single parent after my daughter's home broke in two. I write marketing proposals to pay the rent and poetry to fight without fighting in the spirit of Sun Tzu. My eyes do not slant in the direction of your narrative. I once ran in a pick up game where I caught the nickname of Yao Ming. Yao, I am 5 foot 8. Though I fall short of expectation, I can still check your diversity box on the way down and do a cool pen spin after to punctuate my intellectual prowess. I also happen to own an assortment of Japanese swords made in China, which I intend to use as heirlooms. This is what cultural colonization looks like: me, in a bar, the last samurai standing confused in an age of melting pots, Korean tacos and Asian slaw made by corporate imposters with names like PF Chang. What in the slaw is Asian? I wish I knew!  I wish I knew the true value of my heritage to be worthy of carrying it forward. Like how my grandfather planted a Malonggay tree in our backyard whose leaves my mother would pick and boil to make tinolang manok -the Filipino version of chicken soup- as a weeknight staple on our dinner table. I can barely soft boil an egg for instant ramen. Or how my motherland's socioeconomic gap tooth smile is so wide that it drove over 10 million of its native sons and daughters off its shores to find work overseas as servants on cruise ships and hospitals to feed the families they barely get to see. To follow their trail blazing footsteps, let me be the second generation tipping point where some form of cyclical tradition breaks. That way, I can raise my daughter free of predetermined scripts. So as the worst Asian in this or any bar, cheers:
to being the first of a new kind.
AK Bright May 2015
true love is not a declaration
     it is a demonstration
true love is not how you feel about someone, it is how that person makes you feel about yourself
The Empty Child Mar 2013
I'm always thinking of you,
For all the imposters I say shoo.
You always know what I need.
To be with you I plead.
With blueberries, or syrup,
I always cheer up.
Waffles are my weakness.
Each and every one is full of uniqueness.
George Krokos Aug 2013
Throughout all of those vast regions and far reaches of space
God can only be realised or known here on this earthly place.
There are about eighteen thousand worlds that sustain life as we know it
but it's only on this world in a human body will knowledge of God show It.
This information was imparted by the one and only Avatar of the age
who did also happen to be the greatest Divine Personality and Sage.

His name was Meher Baba and the words He has given are true
though He might be unknown unless His love has awakened you.
It was for this reason that He was known also as the Awakener
and those touched by His love regard Him as their Messenger.
He also revealed many other things including the main one that He was God
who incarnates out of love, always in a male form, against many a great odd.

The Avatar always comes when the world is undergoing a spiritual rebirth
and mankind is on the brink of destruction on his home planet called Earth.
It is God's duty to His creation and creatures to maintain and set things right
which otherwise would get too much out of hand according to His foresight.
He also gathers those around Him who recognize and accept Him while He yet lives
helping them all achieve life's Divine goal with the instructions and wisdom He gives.

These followers or disciples thus become the harbingers of world transformation
spreading His message of love and truth far and wide being the New Dispensation.
It is the Divine life lived by the Avatar in the world that inspires them so much
witnessing the things He does and says for the good of all with His loving touch.
Though Meher Baba has dropped the body His spirit lives on for those His words hearken
guiding all people who stumble across His Name which, in their heart, love does awaken.

It is also the first time in human history that a true image of His form was given
being a gift to posterity with a full account of His life, which by love was driven.
He also remained silent for the greater part of His life's stay here
because His words were taken too lightly in times past, far or near.
To those who inquired about Him He would let His silence speak for itself
which is the reason why the language of the heart is love, we do feel ourself.

However in His compassion He communicated firstly by the use of an alphabet board
and then later on through unique hand gestures that those close to Him could record.
He indicated that there are five Perfect Masters on this earth all the time
who looked after the affairs of the universe and this world in ways sublime.
They were after all God's representatives here on earth while He was physically absent
and it would be them who would bring Him down in the flesh for us all as a Divine Assent.

Never before has it been stated in such broad and clear terms
of the role they all play in God's Divine Plan which He affirms.
Though they are all one in consciousness they live and go about doing their own thing
which is none other than enlightenment and spiritual realisation to mankind they bring.
To find and meet such a one let alone to stay in his or her presence is a rare blessing indeed;
if one is fortunate enough to recognize one of them, can win their grace and on the goal proceed.

It's also due to the fact that we have been living in an Avataric Age
that there are also some imposters going around the worldly stage,
proclaiming to those who're misled that they can show them the way
which is back to God being what life is for and as the scriptures say.
If their thoughts, words and actions don't confirm what they preach
we should then keep away from them and thus be out of harms reach.

There are also some adepts who through various practices have gained a little power
who go about displaying their wares which onto the unsuspecting public they shower;
in the form of miraculous stunts or manifestations of objects which most people crave,
usually found to be under closer examination the workings and or illusions of a knave.
One has thus to be careful of these and other obstacles that await and lie ahead on the path
back towards the Goal of human life which is identity with God being the Divine aftermath.

It is by self-purification, selfless service, prayer, kindness, truthfulness, including meditation
that anyone can prepare themself with self-control over their lower nature to achieve salvation.
And this makes it easier to start walking the path at the beginning stages of our endeavour
which also cultivates true virtue and clears the way for our freedom one can feel is forever.
We are all knowingly or unknowingly treading the way back to our true home in some way or another
and must not remain dejected if in life we appear at times to be crestfallen by which fate does smother.

The Grace of God and the Perfect Masters is always available as They have the All-Seeing Eye
which means They can understand, see and know everything; nothing really passes Them by.
They're also the guardians of all humanity and our benefactors along that way back home
therefore it's up to us to please God and or one of Them by dedication on the path we roam.
As long as we try not to harm any of our fellow creatures by either thought, word or deed
we can be assured of Their help being forthcoming if in God we have faith or genuine need.
__________________­__
This is my second poem referring to a person known as Meher Baba (the name actually means compassionate father) and is based around the philosophy presented in two books that bear His name:
1. Discourses
2. God Speaks
there are however many other books written about Meher Baba that are too numerous to mention here save one which is the main biography of His entire life called "Lord Meher" written by one of His followers and disciples named Bhau Kalchuri. Although Meher Baba claimed to be the Avatar of this age He had the compassion and foresight to state and give the information of the five Perfect Masters that exist in the world for future generations as He Himself was the Foremost Perfect Master or Avatar of the age brought down and declared by Them at the time according to information given in the books mentioned above.
Dorothy A Aug 2012
I am constantly reminded of that popular Bible verse in I Corinthians 13: And now abide faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love. It is a verse that I highly cling to in faith and hope, something that I truly love to hear and ponder upon. Otherwise, I could easily give in to despair and cynicism, as it is prevalent in this world like a cancer. A good combination of a good dose of faith, hope and love is surely the medicinal treatment required for the cure.

Whether you adhere to this Biblical statement and belief, or absolutely do not, anyone can understand that we need faith, hope, and love to rely on. No matter what our walk is in life, whether we are Christians or of another religion—or have no belief in God or the spiritual life whatsoever—we all must have faith, hope, and love. Must!

Our very lives, and the world, depend on it.  

The religious aspect aside, who can exist without these three, without faith hope and love? Take the sun, for example. Even the staunchest atheist has faith that, without fail, the sun will reappear on the horizon, each and every morning, dispelling the darkness of night as the earth revolves around the sun. It’s like an undeclared promise, a brilliant, seemingly miraculous occurrence that should never cease to fill us with awe.

Until we take hold of these thoughts, how soon we do forget.  

Can you imagine if you woke up tomorrow and you never saw the sun again? Never? What would it be like if there was nothing but bleak darkness as we looked up into the sky for its beautiful blue canvas and infinite greatness? Our meager light bulbs and man-made lamps would pale in comparison to the blotted out light—the desert in the sky. Life would cease to be, and the thought of it seems almost incomprehensible—the utter void, the earth’s destruction, the deathliness, the icy cold and chaos. How we often take such things for granted! And the life-sustaining sun is only one of the countless things that we often take for granted as we dwell upon this magnificent earth. One may use his or her own analogy to compare.  

Along with faith to spur it on, who can survive without hope?  Hope reminds you it is still there when you cannot envision it there or feel its presence. It offers fresh, new pathways when your hopes have been dashed, and urges you to move on from false hopes that are imposters to the real deal.

I certainly cannot live without hope, nor could another living soul.  Having no hope at all feels like a living death, one I know of firsthand much too well. Inside of me—in my own being—when it seemed that the sun in my soul, with all its nurturing and guiding light, had entirely disappeared from within me—I experienced that vastly void, and dark, bottomless pit. In complete horror and pain, I felt my life would always be this way.  I liken it to having your lungs being ripped away from you, the wind ****** out of your spirit.

Oh, it is a dooming, crushing thing to have no hope!

But the thought of having not a shred of hope was something that I just could not bear nor accept. Thank God, it was an illusion, not really gone for good. It is the very fuel to propel rockets of dreams and goals, and it works hand in hand with faith and love. I believe wholeheartedly that hope is there for anyone’s access, no matter how low life seems. For like that eternal sun in the sky—sometimes seemingly doused out by menacing clouds—a temporary mirage, no doubt—hope is an invincible, precious and extraordinary gift, one that outshines despair by a thousandfold.    

Imagine if there was no love. Many of us think love is an illusion, a ***** trick to avoid. People often were supposed to love us, but failed. Surely, we can often fool ourselves into thinking something is love, when later we find that it is clearly not. Often, we feel burned when we show our vulnerable selves, simply on our quest to love and be loved.

But we want love nonetheless. We have to have it.

Love is as messy as life is. Hate often seems triumphant as we turn on the news. It seems to outshine love, and we grow weary by the cruelties we witness through the screen or from firsthand experience.  And by taking a good look in the mirror, we often question how loving we really are, for our guilt is reflected back at us for how we have failed others in a lack of love. Sometimes, we are just too scared to love. Sometimes, we just don’t want to make the effort. But love is still the greatest of all. There is no way this earth could spin well without it. What would be the need of it's ordered structure if not for such a high attainment as love?

Like I Corinthians says, if I have all knowledge or have faith, but have no love, it as if I have nothing—nothing at all. How many people have been taught that they are not worthy?

Again, like that sun, love covers everyone—encounters all at different times of reach—even those who are seemingly incapable of its power.  

And yet again, what if love had simply gone away for good, like faith and hope? Like that sun in the sky? What if hate truly reigned and ruled the earth?

But the battle is never over, and love must always fight on.  These can't just be words that I am saying to fill up space. I truly fight to believe this!

Again, that sun in the sky represents love to me, as well as it does faith and hope. It is warming and enriching. It is a pathway out of the restful night and into the ongoing world. Like it is a living entity, it doesn’t demand our constant attention, and nestles itself into the clouds before it makes its entrance once again, takes yet another bow.  It continually feeds the plants, which feed the people and the animals. And to imagine that this greater-than-life ball of fire is capable of creating rainfall that sustains life, too.  What a glorious contradiction!

With my poetic mind always churning, and the imagery flowing, I share these thoughts to you. Faith, hope, and love—I am truly amazed!
Matthew Walker Jul 2013
Church
A place we call sacred
Though it is far from holy
Plagued by the lying,
Fake, judgmental, deceptive, wannabe,
Overly religious, ignorant, bigot, crazy,
Hypocritical curse upon society known
As Christian

A place said to be filled with love
So sadly love is not the first thing seen
Rather, we feel the ever-watching eye
Looking down because our clothes don’t
Seem as clean, our shoes are not free
From dust, our scars, they bring disgust

But not all who walk these golden
Streets of Christianity bring hate
Some do not raise their head so high

These few who know love
This minority who is actually true
They are the church

Even though these phony haters
Infiltrate the lovers’ ranks
They are not Christian
They are not the church
They’re nothing but arrogant imposters
And close-minded fools

A tree must bear fruit to be a fruit tree
Likewise a Christian must bring forth
Faith and hope and love
They must bear their fruit
Otherwise these Christians
Are not so Christian after all

So remember, the church is this group of
People who love, not the building
Filled who those who destruct
10/7/2012
David Nelson Jan 2015
Point of No Return

all in or all out
make a decision
is this what you want
or only
what you thought you wanted
it looked so shinny from over there
but now, up close
there appears to be tarnish
funny how that works out
all too often

they were the cool boys
or so I thought
they snapped their fingers
to the tunes of the blues
but now
they appear rather ugly
hypocritical
the music no longer has melody
too many sharps
too many flats
did I fall asleep
and awaken
back in high school?

They were wolves
in sheep clothing
not what they pretended to be
not friends
imposters
narrow minded
imposters
all in or all out
the point of no return

Gomer LePoet...
now you see it up close - the truth is not what was expected
Arcassin B Jun 2015
By Arcassin Burnham

I've doubted my happiness,
Long awaiting for my newer sins,
Til morning light,
I rewrite all my stories and compete with my ends,
Dont have no time for no imposters,
For the threats they will send,
Keep em coming my way,
Cause I'm on the rise,
You dont have to pretend,
I'm all alone on the throne of diamond valley,
You could get ******,
Do crystal ****,
Turn our skin into crystals,
And pretend to be clones.
Keep em coming.
Christine Ueri Aug 2012
I look at You
and I succumb,
I surrender:
all that I am
to all that is You

Sleep-walking, dream-gawking --

The daemons of centuries
sprawl out the hairs on their legs,
crawl into our skulls
through ears that hear
and bob their lobes
to the twang of sinew
threading together
the tongues of banshees
howling at the moon:

Leeches and ticks
crawl up our spine
when night mares gallop
through the swamp of maggots
crawling in the rye.

Eight and eight
still make one
when the knots are untied
and the gut is done:
All the unknowns,
the variable gales,
the possible parallels
and the impossible
imposters, two:
Fuel to the face of these fears

I look at You
and I succumb.
I surrender
to the daemons of centuries,
let them wash over in hues . . .

And I hold on,
because letting go,
this time,
is far more dangerous
than loving You

Is it not the death of eye
meeting death to eye
that ushers
Sacred offspring
out of the light
into the glowing arms of the womb?

Sleep-walking, dream-gawking --

I look at You
and I succumb.
I surrender:
all that I am
to all that is You
Rama Krsna Jul 2019
he
for whom
abstinence
or indulgence
merely imposters
ever equanimous
untouched by cosmic maya
bearing that crescent on his crown
steeped in the bliss of pure awareness
primal soul with no beginning or end

© 2019
Etheree:: 10 line poem where each line has one syllable more than the previous, first line is 1, second is 2 and so on
Mantas May 2018
Line ‘em up. Shoot ‘em down!
There are traitors in this town!
There are traitors in this town!
Shoot every tenth man down!

I am the law, I hold the crown.
And those, who oppose the crown,
Shall be put down, to the ground.
Put down, to the cold, cold ground.

Line ‘em up. Shoot ‘em down!
There are traitors in this town!
There are traitors in this town!
Corpses don’t even make us frown!

By the grace of God I rule
In this world cold and cruel
Death is but a fancy tool
To crush the idea of a fool

Line ‘em up. Shoot ‘em down!
There are traitors in this town!
There are traitors in this town!
Death is walking somewhere around.

The idea of freedom visited your mind.
Perhaps a safe-heaven in it it did find?
But be wary still, I am far from blind
And to the traitors, I am far from kind.

Line ‘em up. Shoot ‘em down!
There are traitors in this town!
There are traitors in this town!
That is how you obey the crown.

Line ‘em up. Shoot ‘em down!
There are traitors in this town!
There are traitors in this town!
He is king, you are but a clown.

So he spoke, and so he spoke,
It almost seemed like a bad joke:
Each side is clinging to his truth -
Eye to eye, tooth for a tooth.

Now we may say “conclusion” -
Trying hard to avoid confusion,
Each lives in his own illusion,
Trying to prove this poor delusion.

Cha. Cha!
This is the law…
Of the gods and monsters,
We are just failed imposters.

Human life is precious.
But it might infectious.
Thusss...

Line ‘em up. Shoot ‘em down!
There are traitors in this town!
There are traitors in this town!
He is king, & you are but a clown!
Axiana Jun 2016
Loosen the noose,  I'm ready to live
Unlock these chains I once begged you for
Collapse the walls I've had you build
Release the animal, it's tired of hiding
I'm ready to run
Headlong into the shadows
Away from the other one
I'll devour all I've withheld from
My crumbling spirit has decayed
Replaced by something raw
A ripened, dripping rage
And blood I will draw

Ready to show this true nature of mine
The dominant monster
A shiver up every spine
A nightmare unfostered
Beneath my heel you'll find
The weakest imposters

A vision of blackest beauty
I am everlasting insanity
Every demand followed
Every heart hollowed
Ecstatically

I'll make you crawl
I'll pull you down
You'll heed my call
I'll watch you drown

Well beyond the depths
And through our cores
I'll go to hell
Unlock all doors
Gather an army
Of oaths unsworn
My will unleashed
A chaotic force
Miko May 2012
We're illegal, impervious aliens under
the teepee; we're imposters,
orphans huddled by the fire
and waiting for the blaze.
We're Jesus and Mary, waiting to marry
but not quite yet - no, never
quite yet. You and I, we're
suicide; ticking time bombs with our
shell-shocked mouths still intact; metal hearts
camouflaged by our
overgrown  and tangled minds.
We vow to never say never,
but I know you know those words
lie so heavy on us
spysgrandson Apr 2017
he imagines
he has carpal tunnel
from channel surfing;
reruns,
his greatest
weapon against
insomnia

the ficus, the
philodendron
she left
(with half
the wedding
china)
are taking
an eternity
to die

a fortnight
without a teaspoon
of water would
wilt the most
hardy specimens
of their kingdom

perhaps she
bequeathed him
cacti in
disguise

he asks
if they are
what they
appear to be:
leafy indoor
greenery

or prickly
survivors
that grow
only where
all things
are venomous
or have thorns

they swear
they are not
botanical
imposters

liars

he turns up
the volume
on his flat screen
to drown out
the mendacity
of flora

the fauna,  
after all,
were not
to be trusted
either
I would have moved mountains.
I would have drowned my light in your motionless fountains.
Burned alive your imposters.
And sacrificed angels for your dark twisted monsters.

But you made me believe
that the monster was me.
So I had to let go,
just to let the Beast free..
Tahirih Manoo Nov 2015
Most persons who are ageable
                                            - aren't even adults

They are just grown children

                  Who have learnt fancier words

       more serious sounding expressions

                 And
new
ways
of
secret
tantrums.

Those imposters. Caught ya.

Spider one. Grownchildren zero.
11:22 am 10 th, November, 2015

My Spidey senses are tingling. Lol.
Don Sturgill Feb 2010
Normal days are like this:  

Darkness is turned to light.
The blind receive their sight.
Wrongs are made right.
Yes, normal days are like this,

but few of us are amazed.

Here is what happens:  We become accustomed to the miraculous and lose the magic.
Life becomes just another day, another dollar, another trip south.  Another, "Who cares?"

Here is what happens:  Those who are most precious to us become our enemies.
Those to whom we owe the most, we treat the worst.
Checking the news is more urgent than the voice of a child wanting to play.
Answering e-mail is more important than saying, “I love you.”

We begin to disappear, long before death overtakes us.  We become cogs in the machine,
zombies rolling out of bed, consumers of plastic toys and throw-away containers.
Our big concern is gas mileage. Our main ambition is money in the bank.
Our over-riding emotion is fear… for we cannot face the reality of our non-existence.  

Happy hour is God on Sunday. This is what happens to the best of us.  

Perhaps someone tries to warn us, but we scold them, we chastise them;
They must be silenced, status quo is the way to go, it's always been done like this.
We shut them away quickly so that their disturbing ideas are silenced. No one visits them.
The guards become infected and must be replaced.
They get early retirement, or are given other positions of promise,
in return for their silence.

Shhhhh. No one must know.

Nothing is sacred.  We want sanitary preachers in clean suits and not too bold ties.
We will gladly give them our money, if they continue to leave us alone.  Let us wilt and die.
Some of them become show-men. This is a helpful diversion.
A room full of imposters can hide the Truth and allow us to believe our chosen lie.
We can pretend that all lunacy is equal.  We need not listen with our hearts, our cold hearts.  
We are safe from wisdom here.  We have money and highways and malls.
We have universities and basketball and cheerleaders.

I write this to warn you. You are not safe. The Lion is loose. Your life is at stake.

You may be asked to be kind to a stranger—the one with unclean hands.
You may be asked to visit the prisoner,
tend the sick,
give your belongings to the poor,
even deny yourself…and not just on Sundays only.

Beware. The time is soon upon us. The hour is near.
The Master cometh….Even at the door.

You see…normal days are like this:  

Darkness is turned to light.
The blind receive their sight.
Wrongs are made right.

And hardly anyone is amazed.
Copyright Don Sturgill, 2008
Seco, Kentucky USA
Charlie's Web Feb 2019
There are days I dream and feel like an imposter

until I remember we’re all imposters living in unrealized dreams.
Who are you
Lauren Smith Aug 2012
Here’s what is, what once was, and what will be.
I am what ‘held up’.
I am autumn tree after the fall of its last leaf,
I am volcanic ash dusted over the ruins of a city.
It may not look it, but I will once again breathe evident life,
For the best part of me is still here, I did not die.

I am the parts of me that survived tragedy,
Murdered the imposters,
Cut out the tumor.
Let me bleed.

Reasoning stretched to boundary,
And as gaping tears rip into being, you see me.
War-torn as ever,
I do not eat, I do not sleep.

Oh! But how I dream!
Dreaming of all the dreams indebted to me by Reality.
But in the blinding light of a child run free,
I didn’t realize my speed.

All the best parts of me,
Born of the fight to conquer what got thrown at me,
Now lie in the suffocating dirt of this cemetery.
Try as I might to resist what is, my washed eyes burn thinking of what once was,
For I know –this is all that will ever be.

The light I had,
Choked out,
Extinguished by the grave.
I always thought I’d live to dream another day.

What a fool I was,
“The best part of me is still here, thus I cannot die.”
Now I recall the years I neglected food and I neglected sleep.
Though I kick and cry, as I am dragged into this permanent sleep,
I know, this is repayment for a life deprived.

Now I know,
If you do not sleep, you cannot dream.
Here lies “the best part of me”,
Asleep in this coffin, it too did die.
I'm not a poet, I never intended to write. I am a lover of poetry, I wanted to read. But I think I became greedy and wanted to be part of everyone else's beauty.
Steve Page Aug 2019
there's said to be some merit in me
and there's something to be said about mine
but please never let it be taught
and please never have it headlined
that I've ever done any of this
but with measured and deliberate thought
or time consuming and considered design
none of this comes easy
little of this goes smooth
we all think ourselves imposters
but some of us have pushed through
so whatever doubts you're having
however steep the climb
take the chances that you're offered
and give yourself some time.
SiouxF Aug 2023
Those insidious beasts
Surreptitiously winding their tendrils
Through every orifice and vacuum,
Through every artery and vein,
Through every thought and word,
Till those two imposters
Guilt and shame
Are so embedded
One knows not where one begins
And the other ends
Aubree S Jan 2017
The raging fire,
must be crying for the impeded heart,
of whom was left behind in the black smoke.
Flaring with tension of a greedy man,
who imposters his own soul.

Blistering his self esteem,
scaring his personality,
burning away his desires.

Within the crackling sounds that reveals,
the dark overcast that's hoarding his life away.
With preflexed flames lining his positive thoughts,
that lurks between his suicidal mind.

Poisoning his lungs,
fogging his version,
restraining his voice.

His weak body erupts into a leery shadow,
collapsing beneath the shattered confidence.
Suffocating from the lack of empathy,
combusting his last breathe.
Sam Miller Apr 2013
When you write about monsters,
everyone expects you to be insane.
When you write about imposters,
they expect the very same.

Radical, non-conformist.
Your opinions, I’m sad to say.
Won’t sorely be missed,
as over the years you begin to decay.

But being who you are,
you don’t care what they think.
You’ll write about the monsters from afar,
but beware, they’re closer than you think.

I’ll write about my monsters,
if only to expel them from my mind.
Yes, I’ll write about the monsters,
in the hopes that I’ll leave them behind.

Nothing more than words on paper.
Graphite and ink as their only substance.
Ghosts exorcised as haunting vapor.
No more nightmares in abundance.
As I slept,
I dreamed I was falling,
Violently hurdling towards the earth,
Increasing...
Increasing...
My back deployed,
I started to decrease from falling, and was beginning to glide.

I glided into a forest,
Filled with the most wonderful,
Fruits
Vegetables
Trees
Animals speaking in tongues

I then was confronted by a man in a woven cloth,
He stabbed me in the collar bone in a most benevolent way!

He smeared my blood on my forehead and condemned me
to feel the pain of his ancestors
for my kind had made him suffer
I promised to him that I would take everything all of it,
I would give it back to his people one day,
We wept under the tree's
He spoke to me,
Told me that I was the true white buffalo,
and that the others were just imposters,
that gave a bad name to the term,

I looked all around me,
At this point in time knew that the fruit was not for me and my people,
That its roots and stalks were on the same soil that the natives were buried under!
We are not supposed to be here!
I will leave when I have my chance.
and now I weep for every passing plant and tree every spirit of the earth that has faced our destruction.
Genocide
Destruction
Inhabiting
Manifesting
Corrupting
Lifelessly moving along the horizon in search of nothing but finding.
jennifer ann Aug 2015
she searched for him in crowded cafes,
a man who would love her for the rest of her days.
he would be a poet, honest and wise.
she thought that she had found him, behind sad
brown eyes, but all of this guys, poetry and promises,
they were nothing but awful lies...,

she went through hell, searching for him.
so many imposters standing in the way,
they told her that she was the one, but none,
had seemed to stay. and when she finally found
him. she was sure that he would leave.
and when he told her that he loved her,
she did not believe,
at first. she didn't think that they would stay
together, she was so sure that he would find
someone to replace her, someone that he liked
much better,
because she was always second best.
because nothing ever lasts forever...

but summer turned to fall, and he broke down all her walls.
he wasn't a poet, but he was brave and beautiful.
his big brown eyes  they weren't sad at all.., they gleamed
like moon beams. they were the two most beautiful eyes that
she had ever saw...
and those eyes put the light back in hers,
he never filled them with sorrow, he helped her grow.
he didn't weigh her down with negativity, you see, he loved her
and he always let her know

finally finding a heart to call home,
she would no longer suffer,
because she didn;t just find him,
the two had found one another.
ummm this might ****. im really tired and kind of buzzed.
Tyler King Feb 2015
I felt you, Hemingway
Ghost lit in pale blood electric lights
On the downslope of the Holy Spirit's introspective nightmare
Cacophony in the bathroom stall, savages at war in the gutter
Kings in their drug fueled conquest of modern man's spatial reasoning
Angry cyclops guards the gate to the Fourth ***** Garden of Eden
The learned alcoholic in wino wonderland bursting at the seams for a halogen fix
Cultist camoflaged in black leather combat boots spiked iron altercation
Public domain genocide for the demure nihlist lower class
Never give those ******* the satisfaction
I felt you in Rapture, like lilac swastikas dripping melted candle wax down my frail spine
Blunt force trauma tinged lunacy for the jet engine martyrs, screaming at the empty spaces
For the imposters stigmatized by yellow journalist hype men
And the psychos just along for the ride
Be shameless in your insanity,
Be reckless in your love
Live forever to spite the mad god that molded your angry heart
And **** the sun with your empathy
Michael DeVoe Sep 2014
I’ve become quite adept at hiding the best parts of myself
In my Facebook status, tweets, Instagram photos
You are looking for a reason to justify the attention your mind is giving me
A redeeming quality
A reason to say, “hey…hey I see you there”
“That you inside of you that isn’t so afraid of you”
I see you out there looking for the me you saw that one time
For that thing that made your heart miss for a second
We are playing Where’s Waldo with my confidence
You keep finding all those striped shirt imposters that are my insecurities
I have left littered everywhere
But you forget silly little girl we are not looking for simply a man in a striped shirt
We are looking for a man in a striped shirt and a ridiculous hat
I bought this stupid ******* hat so that you could see me
Clearly this is not the kind of hat one wears at the dockyard
The pier
Or on the farm
Or Time Square
Or the circus
Well maybe the circus
But definitely not at home
Or the zoo
And for sure not on the internet
Every day we are playing two insecurities and a truth
Did I post that picture of my book because I want you to know that I think I’m smarter than I think most people think I am
Or did I just like the book
Is that a picture of my shoes
Or was I just wanting to let you know that I was financially secure enough to take care of myself
Is that a picture of my son
Or just a statement of my ability to commit
Tell me which one of those is the truth
Which one of those would make you go first
I am standing here
In this stupid mother ******* hat
At a shopping mall
In the middle of ******* Minne-*******-sota
Please find me
I know that you have spent a long enough time looking at the parts of me that look just enough like me that you might confuse them for me
But they aren’t the real me
They’re just some self-doubt who bought the same shirt as I did on sale at Costco over Memorial Day Weekend
Please recognize me
Say hi to me
I am really good at saying hi back
A collection of poems by me is available on Amazon
Where She Left Me - Michael DeVoe
http://goo.gl/5x3Tae
Felicia Coffey Mar 2019
gulping down the agony
your irises shift like your schizophrenic sister
at the annual Christmas party

alone in a corner
whispering family drama
to air shaped like a person.

you ****** your head forward
like the motion would rattle loose
the thoughts that are stapled inside.

you breathe out in relief
when you find they’re gone
and the only person

you ever have to trust again
is yourself.
sigh out the real truth

you don’t trust yourself
as far as you can throw yourself
and you crash landed into rock bottom.

sometimes you wish you were like your sister
the only friends she needed were in her head
but you can’t get anyone to stay longer than a few months

you think the problem was choosing the wrong people
you just attract the bad ones
but you’re probably the monster

you just can’t see it
who can blame you
you wonder if your sister knows she’s crazy

because in her world she’s probably
the sanest one there
you wonder if she’ll let you visit

book an express ticket to straightjacket town
meet the friends she’s imagined
but feel more real than any friend you’ve ever had.

you realize that she might have to swallow
tic tac imposters on a daily basis
to keep the world inside her

not outside of her
but at least she doesn’t have to be this
lonely.

there are no friends in your head.
wordvango May 2015
"Last night ,
Weeding out Imposters,
To Night,
sunset dreams,
at least I got two solid hours of sleep lastnight,
Without Agony,
Never Have I Felt,
Painting in Poetry,
A Poet,
Gardening,
Anymore,
several 'untitled's', hello is a treasure.
I wont mention the authors names of these poem titles just saw them combined into something.
Am interested to see if any authors recognize their titles here.
Travis Barefoot May 2014
We
make
our own
destinies.
We hang our own stars;
imposters against the darkness,
hung on interstellar backdrops of infinite truth.
Sora Jun 2013
Can you really tell?
Which helping hands are true?,
and which are imposters
Which ones will take your hand when you slip,
and not let go?
Or which ones will be held out but will push you down and pull out of the way when you fall?
Can you really tell?

They're all around,
the fakes and the friends.
The ones who laugh behind you, but smile when you spin around
Or the ones who defend your back and hug you when you turn around
Or how about the ones who laugh at you all the time?
They're the ones to stay.
Can you really tell?

Cause I can tell,
My sister's the real deal.

(I'll always be there to protect you.)

-Tasman
My best friend/sister/other half of me wrote this for me when I tried suicide a while back.
Together, we fought off the demons for a little bit but then they came back. Stronger then ever before, more then ever before. I was drowning under the surface for about 2 months before she was yanking me up out of the surf of the demons. I love her. My sister's the real deal.

— The End —