This page is specially prepared for fake poems. You can reach newest and popular fake poems from this page. You can vote and comment on the fake poems you read.
visible, but don't have face
many heads but zero brains
their job is to blow their discouraging beams
Started by from church,
Travelled for faith,
Met with the wanted,
Given selfless for surety,
We run from our own shadows
We run from our own pasts
Carrying a fake legacy
Into a world that won't last
All That Is Fake
Convincing words, all that a broken heart needs.
A bandage, required by wound that bleeds.
But words can break a heart too
A bandage, when ripped can hurt too
I shame this face, i try to hide
Critics discussed that i can't fight,
Thus i believe them they right,
Mirrors talk back; they can't lie,
S. A. Marionette
someway related to affection?
We're good only till we see each other,
and then don't bother?
In Praise Of Limestone
If it form the one landscape that we, the inconstant ones,
Are consistently homesick for, this is chiefly
Because it dissolves in water. Mark these rounded slopes
With their surface fragrance of thyme and, beneath,
W. H. Auden
When I asked my mother why they were called sand tarts,
she couldn't answer me-
perhaps this ravenous curiosity causes my brother
Ripped My Heart Right Out
I have to admit that night you broke my heart,
My body is numb, feels like you somehow ripped it apart.
Was that all just temporary, was it all just fake,
I thought you loved me, but I guess you proved you didn't when you put our love at stake.
Viva La Vida
Drowsy enough, Little awake,
Couldn’t see clearly those eyes,
The way of seeking world’s fake,
And trusting blindly on their lies,
When death will close my eyelids,
And my heart will cease to beat,
When my restless body,
Will finally be still,
A City Winter
I understand the boredom of the clerks
fatigue shifting like dunes within their eyes
a frightful nausea gumming up the works
Ours are the streets where Bess first met her
cancer. She went to work every day past the
secure houses. At her job in the library
she arranged better and better flowers, and when
A man saw the whole world as a grinning skull and
cross-bones. The rose flesh of life shriveled from all
faces. Nothing counts. Everything is a fake. Dust to
dust and ashes to ashes and then an old darkness and a
London Types: Bus Driver
He's called The General from the brazen craft
And dash with which he sneaks a bit of road
And all its fares; challenged, or chafed, or chaffed,
Back-answers of the newest he'll explode;
William Ernest Henley
How To Meditate
fall, hands a-clasped, into instantaneous
ecstasy like a shot of heroin or morphine,
the gland inside of my brain discharging
Tired of the lies, so-called fake cries.
All locked in a cage, with voice full of rage.
Sickeningly sweet lips, smiling with perfectly white teeth.
To A Contemporary Bunkshooter
You come along… tearing your shirt… yelling about Jesus.
Where do you get that stuff?
What do you know about Jesus?
Jesus had a way of talking soft and outside of a few
That The Soul May Wax Plump
My dumpy little mother on the undertaker's slab
had a mannequin's grace. From chin to foot
the sheet outlined her, thin and tall. Her face
uptilted, bloodless, smooth, had a long smile.
When you hear the lovers' words, think them not a mistake
You don't recognize these words, the error must be your take.
The here and hereafter cannot tame my spirit and soul
Praise God for all the intrigue in my mind that is at stake.
Shams Al-din Hafiz Shirazi
A Lonely Man
When I'm out among the fellows, with the work to hold my mind,
Then there's heaps of joy in livin' an' the world seems awful kind
Awful kind an' awful jolly, with no trace of melancholy,
An' I tell myself the bloke that don't enjoy it must be blind
Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Our New Horse
The boys had come back from the races
All silent and down on their luck;
They'd backed 'em, straight out and for places,
But never a winner they's struck.
Do Not Fret, Do Not Cry, Do Not Tax...
Do not fret, do not cry, do not tax
Your last strength, and your heart do not torture.
You're alive, you're inside me, intact,
As a buttress, a friend, an adventure.
A Distance From The Sea
To Ernest Brace
"And when the seven thunders had uttered their voices, I was
about to write: and I heard a voice from heaven saying unto