Posturing to be a man

3 min readFeb 13, 2021

Smile, fake it till you make it, right?
Fake it when you are alone; be water
Make thoughts more true than belief

Pretend, pretend before the mob, shine
Impostors believe reflections as true too long
Grooved lines on bones impossibly mirrored

Pretend nude before rocking air guitars
Instruments choose players to haunt like graves
It strums me like a strumpet till all my tricks vibrate

Teach me to fake into honesty satiated for once
Ruth tells me to toss the looking glass & gold bars
Counterfeit identity till reality gets lost in Photoshop

Posturing as real as overgrown kids in capes
Learning to see panties on the outs taking on will
By waking, I can spot fake bills & Benjamins on stage

With super-powers that strips impostors nude
ill I take talents as passive imitation spent cheap
To deny, to launder more knock-offs as me, legit

But, the tattle-teller & manager are me, the thief
The dreamer & lies take blood-baths from my veins
In tubs made of real impossibles & disrespect bubblings

I am in the bathroom in a rented home alone pretending
posture like a runt before alphas & chiefs ready to pounce
Like kicked rez dogs posturing for an A but F as a grade

Pray that I find new guises to graft on old scars
As fakes fear each transaction, goosebumps reject
Terror became second skin if applied hourly for scores

Why not turn that feigned fear inside-out?
The sun doesn’t just blast outward true to Earth
It bursts from inside us if you love or hate your H-bomb

If you can contain your confusion, Hiroshima may live
by God’s grace, chances & grooves are supplied
It’s our choice to pretend or assemble alien chances

Posturing like a spirit-tracker making a full-circle
I turn the other cheek 180 from God as prodigals do
He’ll wait with Jesus with an impossible burger to grill

Never organic, always fresh, God’s meat is the best
God read it all in the Good News Op Ed from saints
He will wait for His prodigal children till the Red Giant wakes

Faking themselves for the Father’s fat bull, tricksters baked
Waiting for children to run home fingers crossed behind
Tail between our knock-off legs shocked & rapping like Jesus

No one but Jesus can perfectly posture on a cross
1 made God chuckle surprised to have a Son
1st time for baby showers for the prodigal Son of Man & God

Just like how Jesus married off his Mom in utero, Joe
Before He was born, his sacrifice & dowry was received
Fake gods who nailed Love on trees in a vacuum as a receipt

Scattered His crumbs over light-years on swirled milky ways
Waiting for a prodigal planet full of posers ascending
Faking compassions rise while counterfeits become foul

Fake empathies and cheap knock-offs go hand in hand
Cheaper than habits posturing inhaled crack in dusty noses
City lights, cheap next to stars, but wanton wants blind eyes from sky

Even city lights & billboards posture in lit cities to heaven
When I retire from friendly fires on screens tweeting daily
I am hoping an obsidian tunnel will appear thin & virtual

Then I hope my poser heart will head to truer lights
With layers of fakes peeled away from callous eyes
Tough to become me with raw pupils unflinching

But, am I worth it? A special king among royal billions?
The worthy last longer than antsy opulence ejaculating
Only God can weigh serial numbers stamped at birth to now

When He comes to launder sour black market goods
Pearly white snarky souls just in time for heaven’s gate
For Saint Peter’s final check or rejected souls flexing their airs

For Pete’s sake, untie the knot to your black market goods
One more lip sync before the road? It’s your image & mike
Hades & Lucifer will recycle any illusions down the chute

Still clinging to faith in Star Search on Anansi’s web?
till. Seek validation, not true valediction sucked dry?