"plagiarist" poems
Hey guys
I have found several Daily Poems from this site being shared externally with no acknowledgement to the rightful owner :(
Head over here....
http://thepoetryden.wordpress.com/author/thepoetryden/
and if you find your original work there then I highly encourage you ask this person to either a) link the poem back to your original or b) remove them from his site. He claims to be a poet and is misleading people by not putting original names/original links to the works he is posting!
Go through them carefully as the titles of the poems have been changed.
Please share this because I have read at least 3 poems from this site from 3 different people over there with no acknowledgement to the original author!
Update ~ Sept 6th 2014 ~ You are NOT going to believe this. I found Shane Linville on Facebook and you will never guess who is one of his favourites! Chris G Vaillancourt! That's right, the very same well known plagiarist from days gone by at HP. He was such an insidious piece of work
****** Not the way I'd like to see my name next to a Daily Poem but getting the awareness out there is a nice thing too :)***
Sep 5, 2014
Sep 5, 2014 at 2:37 AM UTC
I slept with her, my rapacious pen, took me in quiet vengeance in
full on conjugation
raken and taken, me,
her overlording me now, her authorship, so long held
in my maledom abeyance,
a kept imprisonment, unleashing at last, a tongue lashing~leashing,
de-spite my un-desirous craven lying supplications,
excuses of innocence and accident, coincidence and conflation,
ashes, ashes, denials incinerated, all fall down
she wrote/stabbed upon my heartless chest,
in the cheap crudités colors of a prisoner’s inking,
“user of words mine, all mine”
gathered up my innards of loose words,
speculative notes & titles yet to be,
born and kept hid in password protected silent back labor files,
now hers, leaving me sputtering, unable to create,
a homeless mute citizen, possession-less,
helplessly hoping her hovering harlequin might relent,
without any shelter, even a glimmering, a single aleph or bet
she celebratory cackled and clawed,
professed her reclamation ownership of all my poems predecessors,
zola j’accusing that I, ripped from her forcibly,
with no granted permission, her womanly touché of my scribing,
warning of no more global warming for my unprivileged hands,
daren’t try for pretenses of stolen legal guardianship,
warning of a new, forced caining inscription,
a tattooing of “thief” upon my 5 knuckled right ******
“plagiarist” boldly inked in back & blue upon my left palm
I, predator,
she, victim,
of my now self-professed, admitted confess,
she, my single victim,
of a decade long serializing criminal coverup
her parting poem a threatening,
herein issued in this very verse,
damning all who would falsely credit themselves,
to suffer shame and an unimaginable curse,
this, the newborn eleventh of ten commandments
parting, she kissing my lips, even my emptied apertures,
with warning bitings,
she knew all my
my numerous noms de guerre,
no dead scrolls caves to hid in, and to be discovered some future day,
and if ever marked as copyrighted,
’twas no tunneling escape,
the exposed truth to be over-stamped
upon all, upon each, in every language,
”copied right from the tongue of a woman!”
and she would be wright...
May 23, 2019
May 23, 2019 at 10:10 AM UTC
I'm ****** off with Robert Frost
And the guy who wrote Paradise Lost.
I ain't happy with Aristotle,
And especially John, the weird Apostle.
Don't mention, please, Shelley or Keats,
Blake, Byron or Yeats;
Each and every one you see,
(if you're ready for some truth)
Took their themes from me.
Don't look aghast,
Don't tsk and titter,
Their thievery's left me
Mean and bitter.
Just because they said it first,
Doesn't mean I find it just.
It doesn't give them ownership
Of my themes and authorship.
I write of Roads, Good and Evil,
God and Satan, love and leaving.
I know I'm internally bleating,
But I can't abide this metric beating.
Although they're merely dust and bones,
They don't have the right to own
All the great lines I have sown:
The best laid plans of mice and men.
(I said that before Robbie Burns).
Let me make this poeticaly clear;
***If I was there, or he were here,
I'd sue the *** of Will Shakespeare***.
May 11, 2018
May 11, 2018 at 9:31 AM UTC
Don't touch my poetry
Unless you're a plagiarist.
It's infectious.
Mar 23, 2020
Mar 23, 2020 at 12:57 PM UTC
With a quill over paper
For muse, we are excavators
We pour out our hearts
So joy, love, peace to impart
To hold a torch over emotional darkness
To fill each others hollowness
Its for the love we write
When we write
We are called poets
A name fitting and right
But your theft just says you are mentally poor
Reducing you further to a mere thief
And nothing close to a P
Not to talk of a poet.
The moon is not a thing you can steal
Trust me its pure folly
That's a dumb idea to conceive
Posting others' poems
Posting like a poet?
Like seriously
How does that sound to 'your' hearing?
DUMB
Even so, to even dare, you must be too dumb to realize its dumb
To acknowledge is not so hard
Its just adding one more line on your pad
I want to deceive myself that you are not too dumb to know that
If you didn't know, now you do.
PS: You could post my poem
That does not make you a poet
It just makes you a thief
Suffice it to say, the worst kind
Without robbing me of the fact that I'm a POET
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 5:31 PM UTC
I'm born
Airborne
Forlorn
In war torn
Discord
My ripcord
I pull for liberation
Alienation aviation
Away from a station
Of no relation
Where their elation
Lies in degeneration
The fright fair
Nightmare
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
Aug 28, 2018
Aug 28, 2018 at 2:29 PM UTC
*Are you a gangster or
a thief seeking attention
Are you an artist or
a voyager painting words
Are you a poet or
a plagiarist seeking love
Are you a Saint or
a sinner searching for salvation
Are you my heart or
a tattooed scar stuck on my chest
Are you a fisherman or
a sailor giving life a second chance
Are you the moon or
a lonely sun ravaging through your days
Are you moving forward or
dragging through tormenting memories*
Jul 28, 2017
Jul 28, 2017 at 4:00 AM UTC
Plagiarism stealthily goes on in all fields!
In research theses plagiarism is common;
In articles and novels they are caught soon!
In poetry a lot of production makes it rare
To find who has done what in any quarter!
Finding the impostors in poetry is finding
Diamond among broken glasses on sand!
So, impostors mingle with poets anywhere,
Become friends and take advantage of them!
Positive minds never think negatively here
And it becomes easy for the culprits to sway all
To indulge in their nefarious acts nonstop!
Plagiarist poets excel even bards and Browning
Consuming their brain as critics did to Coleridge!
Jan 5, 2012
Jan 5, 2012 at 2:22 AM UTC
The plagiarist is somebody
who loves the high regard.
Talent less and lazy and
lack a sense of working hard.
Its easier to copy,
take credit for another's trade
because they lack accomplishment,
it makes them feel afraid.
Afraid, because of inadequacy
in what they do or say
they want the credit of their peers
without a price too pay.
Incompetent and shallow
might cause these beasts to steal.
They like to boast of mastery
but of course this is not real
Shameful in their thievery
could never achieve the work they stole
but perhaps when they're pretending
this helps to make them feel whole.
This should not make them happy.
This should not make them glad.
In fact it should reiterate
that they are really, very sad!
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 4:04 PM UTC
If I said I just needed to hear those words
You'd say I'm a stereotypical writer
Or a totally uncreative plagiarist
In this moment I'm not a poet
Just a broken person starving for acceptance
Rejected, abandoned, worthless
I'm sick of my definition
My heart is longing for your approval
Broken pieces would be repaired
If you would just care
Can't you notice something positive?
I want to be worthy
Am I so revolting
you can't even set your eyes upon me?
I crave a basic sentence
With the same intensity
a drowning man craves air
Fill my lungs with life
Let me breathe you in
Please just say
I love you
Sep 30, 2013
Sep 30, 2013 at 2:26 AM UTC
There will always be someone who wants what you have, for its easier to steal from someone who has already performed the work, whether a material object, idea, or talent, etc.. Someone who takes credit, where it isn't due, for what you have accomplished, worked hard to attain, or saved for a special purchase. Hence, the PLAGIARIST!
The counterfeiters, whether it be money, or the reproduction of the "Old Masters" oil paintings, claiming it was purchased at a garage sale, or found in an old trunk in the attic of an old house they purchased. Many scenarios, many such events, and mostly untrue. Plain, and simple, they are nothing but "THIEVES." They have been around for thousands of years. Aggravating, yes! Frustrating, absolutely! Discouraging, you bet! The difficult part is knowing"they don't care!", as long as they get what you have, or think they can.
To my friends at HP: Regardless of whatever name they wish to use at the bottom of your piece, your signature is still inside the piece itself. Whether it be a particular phrase or word meticulously placed, the style of your writings, the way you approach your thought, the rhythmic flow of your prose, the softness or harshness of expression. All which has created "your signature". That, cannot be reproduced.
To those literary "thieves: You will continue to try and steal our work. But, for each letter stolen, for each word stolen, only creates another rung on your ladder, leading you deeper and deeper,further down into your abyss of loneliness, until the blanket of your depression, discontent, and hatred suffocates you. That is when your name will become known only as, "WHO?"
copyright: Richard Riddle September 08, 2014 10:00am(CDT)
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 11:06 AM UTC
Discovered a new
"poet", Diksha Patel, a
master plagiarist.
Feb 7, 2016
Feb 7, 2016 at 3:49 PM UTC
*though the mills of God grind slowly
yet they grind exceeding small
though with patience
he stands waiting
with exactness grinds he all.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow*
for the wicked there's comeuppance
yes, for plagiarist and troll
it may not be in present tense
but evil has its toll
for the greedy human tyrant
for the fat politico
the rich are as a vagrant
trudging through the snow
****** Pol *** Stalin
Napoleon's Waterloo
in disgrace and fallen
into hell's external stew
the world is a millstone
it grinds fine, or so it's said
born here crying and alone
finally we're dead
don't envy the deceiver
or those who perpetrate
they'll be the receiver
meet poetic Fate
God has a sense of humor
those who blot society
may end up with a tumor
in the end will not be free
those who think they're "first"?
pity the poor fools
they're actually cursed
to be the devil's tools
there's no skating through this life
they will all be doomed
the scepter is a poison knife
the coffer is a TOMB.
SoulSurvivor
(C) 11/23/2015
Nov 23, 2015
Nov 23, 2015 at 10:53 AM UTC
The plagiarist hath vacated this space
Yet his shadow still lingers at the place
In the nose one well senses it about
So oft an odor doth waft on the air
Which can be veiled by visage fair
The eyes are peeled they're ever watching
For that person of the copyist's cloning
Twill not be duped by untruthful flout
This day of its appearance yet unseen
Could there be a hiding behind the screen
Though the master duplicator hath fled
His presence is hovering over the joint
Of type in image same he did anoint
Within HP's walls it doth share our bed
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 4:59 PM UTC
a glowing tribute
was penned for the infamous plagiarist
apparently the scriber did little research
into the copier's grist
this master replicator
has visited many a poetry site
to steal what others
did with heart and soul write
brazen is this fellow
in his misappropriating conduct
passing off material
which isn't his original product
again he has reappeared
at the Hello Poetry forum
showing his usual
disingenuous decorum
May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 9:27 PM UTC
**A Plagiarist In Inheritance
Originalist, In The wealth of Progeny.**
Aug 8, 2017
Aug 8, 2017 at 4:05 AM UTC
Nothing matters
Nothingness is our void--
our shared existence
it is a claustrophobic
cramped
catatonic state of mind
my mind is melting my mind is melting my mind is
gone
there
that second is gone
and that one too
every single second sounded sirens in my psyche
have I gone off the deep end?
my razor might agree
I'm sure my heart would fall out
if it weren't secured between a set of bones and two lungs
lungs that I've blackened with my hate
because if my body is a temple I've burnt it to the ground
I have succeeded in this artistic DESTRUCTION
yet I am an artist
I create
with my beautiful words and my ugly thoughts
I don't care if I live or die or if I love or lie or lose or try
I am falling
fall
fall
Fall down from your throne you ******* hypocritical plagiarist
I hope you rot in your cell
because it's my only retribution
to you, my love
myself
Oct 29, 2013
Oct 29, 2013 at 9:29 PM UTC
framers and confounders,
gold-sifting pitch-shifting
plagiarist compounders,
dreamer cells --
all stragglers and strollers;
trollers, ex-tollers,
frontier comptrollers...
was a pupil for a day,
gave two eyes for an A,
said "I'll tell you what I see just
tell me what to say"
2 fore thoughts 2 free thoughts
of sons of freed slaves,
think tanks and barnacles abound:
I see twenty-six characters in need of an author
to try me line by line
'til beseeched and swayed
I reach the antithesis
Jun 16, 2015
Jun 16, 2015 at 9:54 PM UTC
This is not so much a poem. This is more a revealing of a high that comes from taking the liars down. This is not about reposting ones own work under multiple accounts (I don't understand it and I don't get it but you can't steal from yourself...) This is a story of being able to show ones true character by pointing out that what they write, how they bask in the muted sunlight of another's ignorance to their thievery, just leaves them looking pale!
You see me as a troublemaker
storming your made up works
just trying to influence your friends
that your not that kind of girl
You see me as an interloper
just jealous of your success
Little Darlin' I don't care for you
except for exposing your lying cheating ***
Stop garnering your self esteem
upon backs that are already broke
Stop making people believe
you suffered what you supposedly wrote
Honestly! If you are impressed
and feel heart whole, then simply,
Say thank you, *I feel what you wrote
I feel you wrote it for me*
Just don't steal their words
and let everyone think
You're a master poet/ess
All you need to do
is
link...
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 3:41 AM UTC
read his stuff
https://hellopoetry.com/r-2/
n.b. nowadays I write here only in praise of others,
as the rewards are far greater than any of the meager
stuff I got laying around.
a poem for his summer soul-stice
<>
self-confessed to the priest, we us, both, meeting
in the confess-urinal, wee needy for a solid projectile
purging, me, cause, I’m a plagiarist of inspiration
**** it every time a ce r tain poet writes,
its a sock to my multi faceted square sided~head,
discoloring my eye shadow, my maskara crazy running,
frustration, admiration, mortar and pestle pounded
into a white powder of unadulterated adultery with a
frothy topping of a jealousy muse laughing face, at me,
cappuccino made from bitter herbs and pink sea salt.
in eight lines the man accomplishes
what would take me eight, eight full
poems, even then, not coming close
still failing to retake his brevity skills,
his summer solstice way of seeing,
by keeping the dark away,
by inviting the dark in,
making it under duress,
spill the beans of his life’s
ironies, some hellish,
some not, all well kept,
in Georgia granite stoney face.
the softest steeling of words that irritates
me into a fine frenzy... what’s the use,
point made, in how he undresses
the eyes
into just outright gasping,
and that is the only
permissible comment emoji.
______________________
r
Her verse
I need to taste the salt
of her soliloquy
be drunk on the sobriety
of her verse
those words she writes
behind my eyelids
makes me want
to crawl inside her skin
and listen to her heartbeat.
Jun 23, 2020
Jun 23, 2020 at 8:22 AM UTC
due to a lack of talent
in the writing sphere
a plagiarist will see fit
to pinch other poet's gear
brilliance not present
on the nib of the pen
hence a copyist will purloin
every now and then
a rich source of poetry
is tapped into online
as if robbing the golden nuggets
from a Colorado mine
their coda reads like
this let's nick a stanza
stowing the best *****
for a thieving bonanza
without any conscience
the reproducer does steal
making much of other's works
which are so ideal
May 29, 2017
May 29, 2017 at 8:23 PM UTC
Physician's are able
accord-
ing to some dictum,
Themselves "Heal"
at command, even
with their own head
and ******
One.
As for intellectual property,
you have none, of either
except that which you steal from us,
sorry I can't blame your parents, you fool,
Here is to hoping your teacher sees through
you...
whether or not you are in school, all this proves is
that you are a tool eaten through with rust, do to
lack of use, bet if you workout, steroids are your "juice"
and if you do it to get attention, you have a
penchant as one previous plagiarist said,
he just "wanted to see if all the poems, written got read"
and if it is to brag to some girl, whose feet you are not
worthy to look up even it they are at toad height,
it is lights out goodnight and no chance to succeed,
so let us hope you leave, because if this is mockery, callin,'
matters not, you missed the punchline, because I don't joke.
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 10:51 PM UTC
I'm ****** off with Robert Frost
And the guy who wrote Paradise Lost.
I ain't happy with Aristotle,
And especially John, the weird Apostle.
Don't mention, please, Shelley or Keats,
Blake, Byron, or that poser, Yeats.
Each and every one you see,
Lifted their best themes from me.
Don't look aghast,
Don't tsk and titter,
Their thievery's made me
Mean and bitter.
Just because they said it first,
Doesn't mean I find it just.
It doesn't give them ownership
Of my themes and authorship.
I write of Roads, Good and Evil,
God and Satan, love and leaving.
I know I'm internally bleating,
But I can't abide this metric beating.
Although they're now just dust and bones,
They still don't have the right to own
All the great lines I have sown, like,
The best laid plans of mice and men.
(I thought that up before Robbie Burns).
Let me make this poetically clear;
***If I was there, or he were here,
I'd sue the *** of Will Shakespeare***.
Jan 24, 2024
Jan 24, 2024 at 10:14 AM UTC