"bamboozle" poems
The upbringing of a person could lead to a frivolous publican.
A brother and sister are both witnessing the featherbrained fool.
This world we live in is a bit bamboozle
Escaping to a state of ecstasy with your purple kaleidoscope why don't we shape the future and use cinnamon soap.
With your undercoats it's an antidote for a hurtful situation
It's like we are burning in ice.
Your a magician but you can't stop stupid.
Adolescents knowing the need to finish yet they are taking over to much to cope.
So now they are discovering, considering, cinnamon soap.
Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 8:47 AM UTC
Chaos, demolition, destruction
controlled through supervised instruction
no end to slaughter, no reduction
have their own ways of seduction
On that throne, they sit and stare
The one which is called the 'chair'
Nation's green honour gone abrupt
you say, you're still not corrupt?
no one points at you, while you deduct
waiting for the world to erupt
Just about everything, you'll see here
Roots all clung to the evil chair
In which those so called governors sit
organisers, runners of this lovely bit
performing tricks for the show to lit
prepared for them is a special pit
Looters and criminals, all have a pair
Of gloves to keep stain off their chair
Don't believe their words, bark whatever
bamboozle us, truth from our eyes they sever
residing in those large structures like hever
could write three books upon their clever
Dreadful reality transferred heir upon heir
Criminals need not legitimate relations, just their ****** chair!
Sep 22, 2017
Sep 22, 2017 at 7:14 AM UTC
Glorifying amidst the snowy mountains bestowing
rivers with a splendid shine searching a land
to shower its warmth in a dense grassland,
sun rises with the dawn
like the spring blooming life in the lawn.
Cold on the cemetery lay like the corpse,
the flower in concealed corner of the lawn.
Life rejuvenates it to exhibit its charisma.
With its exquisite grace,
life fills the daffodils
blooming merrily in the meadows
with the exotic flush of odor enchanting thee .
Life of seven ages leaps and exits slyly like a stranger.
Neither the witty nor the wisest nor do the philosophers
can bamboozle the fate, neither can they preconceive
the lot ,the fate has in store in each slot
hence live the life with fullest enthusiasm and zeal,
the chariots of life bridging
the expedition between birth and rebirth.
Struggle the chill like a gladiator
stand undeterred by the worldly woes.
Life is symbolization of bluebells,lavenders
hedychiums planted on a deserted road,
blend of happiness and agony .
Surrendering to agony is pure escapism.
Each has to surrender on the altar of death
a day or later ,
but till life why not worship the life
like an idol enshrined in the temple
so when thee are asked of
satisfaction in the heavens high
thou may not quote "alas it could have been a day later"
rather thou may be the most enlightened
devotee to stay in the state of bliss and utmost salvation.
Men say life is mortal
But life is eternal you see,
the life is like a divine cascade of holy waters,
one drop dies ,other rejuvenates to life.
Till the nature lives, shall live
the men and generations yet to come.
Life is pouring like the nectar from the heaven's brink,
quite insane it would be to not drink the summary of life.
BY CHANDAN SHARMA
Sep 11, 2010
Sep 11, 2010 at 12:09 PM UTC
Direction can bamboozle me
An autist mind thinks different
As if in a maze, so divergent
Can his thoughts be
Getting lost so often
Every new place seems alien
Looking to trap you
Till you lose yourself
From asking for directions
To seeing shakes of heads
Losing hope due to inaction
Not getting any leads
Especially when it's south Mumbai
I hop on to a bus
As it goes on and on, I cuss
Wishing I were back in Chennai
Predictably I get down at the wrong stop
Greeted by a run-down lane
I was early, now late
My panic rises to the top
As taxi-wallahs say no
Even as I give various landmarks
I wonder where shall I go
I am clearly in the dark
I see a gentleman in a car
Probably my last hope
I plead for help
Thus apparently lowering my bar
The gentleman offers a drop
Which I gladly accept
A big relief in this heat
As the ride comes to a stop
He says we will meet later
Since he stays in my locality
In him I saw a lot of humanity
As my day suddenly got better
I had got the inspiration
For writing my next poem
In such an interesting fashion
Sep 17, 2017
Sep 17, 2017 at 4:50 AM UTC
A n attempt to bamboozle him.
D irecting the abomination
I nto my inner soul.
S corn, in the flame of passion,
A ffection going nowhere.
G iving way to struggle, looking for a
R eason to cherish
E very yearning.
E nding this bitter taste,
M aking this relationship
E stranged.
N ever will it bloom
T o a tender love.
© Hazel
Nov 22, 2012
Nov 22, 2012 at 7:52 PM UTC
I think of you often.
In the morning, late at night,
but those thoughts go unvoiced,
the mortal touch goes unfelt.
It’s easier to keep to myself,
to avert my gaze deliberately.
It’s safer to keep ravenous.
It’s simpler to bamboozle with silence.
Jan 26, 2022
Jan 26, 2022 at 5:55 AM UTC
My sweet little gran-mire is 94 Years old.
She still works, as the chairwoman of the family trust
- you can call her “Godfather.”
The “frail old lady” is a humorous disguise she dons
to bamboozle the unwitting - think tiger stripes.
Don’t be fooled, or lulled and don’t ever try to BS her.
The business cosmos wheels behind those eyes.
Her heart was replaced with an abacus, centuries ago.
She’s met everyone in the world who matters.
She has body guards and minions.
Tonight there’s a small birthday party
at the Musée Marmottan Monet (museum) in Paris.
When she comes in, the 40 or so guests formed
an impromptu receiving line - so I queued up too.
Stewards regularly pass and I manage to gulp down
two flûtes of champagne while on line (I LOVE Paris).
This has the makings of a great party.
Finally, it was my turn. we cheek kissed (fait la bise).
I took her small, gloved hand in mine
and it struck me that little white gloves are genius.
“Thank you for inviting me,” I said
inching closer because the music was loud,
“Nothing tops a big-budget party.” I said.
“We agree.” she said with a nod.
“Happy Birthday.” I mouthe.
We la bise again and I moved on so the conga-line could progress.
Ooo! Another steward!
Aug 3, 2021
Aug 3, 2021 at 2:43 PM UTC
A truth that gets hidden from life
Makes you wanna go back in time
A lie that's exposed makes em cry
Everyday right through the night
People spread it all over the world
The lie exposed becomes gossip
The truth be told is honest
But people stretch it
A bit too much is it?
Your lies you say are so old
The truth is the actual core within
The sugar coating makes it cold
When your lies are so paper thin
It makes my sight so blur
But at least it gets clearer
When those lies are so paper thin
Here we go again, waitin' for the end
To begin, it is taking so long
So why would you turn a lie and bend
It so it would seem fascinating?
But right back at you comes
Someone sad, broken hearted, all coz
The light is on, I'm all fired
The night is young, you're a liar
At least what you say won't be what you mean
Coz all you say, everyday, lies that are paper thin
We all pull faces, have new names, even wear braces
We are too ashamed, we are too scared to tie our laces
Coz all you say
Everyday, a lie new
To me and you
Yet all I want
Is for you to tell
The truth
Your lies hide who you are
Your lies act as your facade
Your lies bamboozle all of us
Your lies cross-question your aquaitances
**coz your lies are paper thin
Its transparent
Good for all to see
How you've lied to me
Yet now you'll have to clean
At least you'll have to begin
AGAIN**
Jul 4, 2013
Jul 4, 2013 at 11:49 AM UTC
Give appraisal for the betrayals
because we are finagled by who we worship
stuck in a coma
zombied
sad that every truth is hidden
I mean what is TRUTH?
A story with no beginnings
no citation, illustrations, fake bibliographies and no conversation
YOU RACIST!
No truth be told
Stories are intermingled
Twisted, misguided by the ignorant pedestrians
misunderstood because of the constant human being believing they understand
the energy, the rhythm of each personalities
which then creates mythology....which in turns crumbles to ********
To those who believe the world is progressing..
nope we live the past, present, future
you loser
can I school yah?
bamboozle yah?
like the dear light man with an easy snap of his finger
smack yah with some knowledge of slavery
slave your minds to the mysteries...of decieval
You been fooled
Can you pick yourself up dear sir?
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 10:04 PM UTC
and sometimes magic, a scene from the book
of genesis, chapter verse whatever,
buying whiskey and beer in a supermarket,
the cashier, Tara, knows me,
she's my gym coach,
she tut tut struts and tuts when i buy
beer telling me to keep the beer off -
i told you alcoholics are mobile,
we go sightseeing most of the time,
on a double decker bus we bemuse and
lipread: and here's the Elizabeth tower (formerly
known as Benjamin "big **** Disraeli -
the English by the French after the 100
year war: if they're not retards, they're perverts) -
**** that shit's brushed off on me! am i a **********
if i hold dear a British passport? phew! no? yes? huh?!
i must be a Mr. Khan in waiting...
no, but seriously, a scene in the cave of an iceman,
5 lasses buying wine lonely,
me my beer my whiskey,
i get a lemon added / **** i told you it was a lime not
a lemon on the conveyor belt -
i get a lime, lucky Adam got an apple
and one asking, i'm doing double-up fevers waiting
for Saturday night with Paris, Hilda, Venus and Hera..
Adam gets an apple from smooch slick Eva
naked and i get a ******* lime on a conveyor-belt
in a supermarket while buying whiskey...
Jonah! call the whale! i'm sure we'll both
be calling it Noah's ark when tomorrow comes;
**** you not, we'll be boarding dry-land at
Arsuk - **** send a message to Columbus -
we discovered North America via Greenland
like you discovered the same via the Caribbean Islands,
ha ha! call it dynamo of Erik versus Kristopheren;
i just got a lime on a conveyor belt in a supermarket,
Adam was handed an apple in Eden -
i guess that's worth a 50 50 chance of coincidence
with my sex-starved libido and the English "roses":
not that i'm guarantying anything good either,
it's not like i'm a vacuum cleaner based guarantee -
but **** me, the ****** **** wrinkles and all,
bamboozle clad the salutary march for applause -
and the fainting bearskin trumpet-brigadier at
the ro- -yal parade onto Buckingham Ponce;
n'ah n'ah n'ah n'ah n'ah.
Jun 24, 2016
Jun 24, 2016 at 6:44 PM UTC
the sonofabitch tremor
from a tall cup of americano
i am somewhere in the heart of Libis
feeling the libidinous snarl
of trucks, the poignant treason
of leaves slamming against each other,
the bamboozle of the youth
this is my 5th poem sliding out
of my whetstone mouth
sharpening the dull blade of tongue
as the harum-scarum of the swivel
door crafts a rising hullaballoo.
spilling coffee on my ****** white
this sonofabitch tremor
terrorizes the purity of the *******
clenched against no succor,
eyes squinting in lachrymose fretting
palpebral shade of tossed out gray
caprice of clouds — no
more coffee
for me,
these words nudging me
keeping me awake with
persistence.
Oct 31, 2015
Oct 31, 2015 at 2:51 AM UTC
There once was a
Grand Old Party
Formed against slavery
The Free Soil party
Defenders of the constitution
And the omnibus declaration
First to be President:
Abraham Lincoln
The 20s were the
Republican decade
Harding, Coolidge and Hoover
A decade sadly a century past
A temporal chasm loomed
Until conservative hero
Former democrat Reagan
Trickled up the elephant’s trunk
Take eye of Newt
And two from Bush
Alchemy trickery: viola kazam!
The great bamboozle began
It’s no longer conservatism
No longer less federalism
A horrible takeover
This GOP makeover
Fend for self
Wall off power
Distort report
All else enemy
Walk lock-step
Repeat refrain
Us not them
Say it again
My senator father
Is spinning in his grave
Fox in the henhouse
This Mitch debprave
Feb 12, 2020
Feb 12, 2020 at 10:14 PM UTC
Dream of all you may remember
Walk again the mighty river
•
(You know the one I mean)
•
Ain't ya tired of the ole bamboozle ?
Ain't it time ta use yer noodle ?
•
(Or have ya forgotten
Ya even got that thing?)
••
I GOT AN IDEA !
Let's (really )
Lay them ole illusions down !
••
I sing the true song
Here are the good words
The matrix deconstructed
Nirvana come alive
•
•
•
******* over mountains
Above the ocean
Those Bright Eyes
•
•
Dream of all you may remember
Walk again that mighty river
•
&
Stop your
***** baby whining
(If ya know what I mean )
THE CHILD IS DYIN
( ya know what I mean)
Feb 26, 2014
Feb 26, 2014 at 2:00 AM UTC
Talk - it's cheap and full of sheep.
Air moving, mouthing, making
words to distract and bamboozle,
meaning is used to confuse you.
Colour - superfluous and intangent.
It divides just as much / as it unifies,
the masses and controls our thoughts,
trick of the light, a tailored emotion.
Taste - individuality in isolation.
Eating. Engulfing, endlessly entropic.
Consumers call connoisseurs canon,
Sordid selfish sense, seldom shared.
Jul 17, 2017
Jul 17, 2017 at 10:25 AM UTC
Language is a gably thing,
One can gister words as they go;
Cacophony of sounds we set meanings with,
Leaving me flummoxed every time I unwreathe.
Sesquipedalian, dollipling, mollycoddle
Do these quixotic words truly exist?
Wattucturic, rigmarole, dorizating
Naf, won’t tell you which is which.
Maybe words do not aim to bamboozle,
But some are too choorlish to have been born;
Reminds me of how whimsical humanity is,
Passing on wanches that spell like these.
Oct 8, 2024
Oct 8, 2024 at 6:54 AM UTC
For most of my life
I yearned for the simple
independence of a feline
existence, a house cat
that spends more time
outside exploring and
roaming, then inside
snoring.
Preening and self-cleaning,
eating human food offerings
at will or not, everything on
my terms having my way with
the humans, they being such easy
creatures to bamboozle and train.
No matter how much I
ignore them, hiss or scratch
they treat me like some highly
revered object. A King perhaps?
Now that I am older and wiser
my feline ambitions have been
largely met. Being left mostly
alone with lots of cat naps, all
on my fully autonomous terms
and conditions. Roaming sparingly,
preferring the inside comforts of
home over the cold wet outside.
Please wake me if you have
any questions. But understand
I may not answer as I might be
napping. Or choose too merely
ignore you, as that is what cats
can and often do. And even at
times we humans may too.
Feb 27, 2022
Feb 27, 2022 at 2:09 PM UTC
Bamboozle
Con
Hoax
Hoodwink
Delude. Deceive
Snooker
Mislead
Fake. Out
Dupe. Fool
String Along
Spoof Trick
Bluff. Burn
Jaded souls will concede
An Ex-lover cannot be believed
A dagger to the heart, To the core
Blow by Blow, keeping score
No middle ground in Sight
When both demand to be right
If you’re nursing a break up,
take the time to listen to these classics songs
Inspired songs
1) go your own way 1977
By Fleetwood Mac
2) she’s gone 1973
By Daryl Hall and John Oates
3) band of Gold 1970
By Freda Payne
4) sorry seems to be the hardest word
By Elton John 1976
5) how can you mend a broken heart?
By Al Green 1972
6) tracks of my tears 1965
By Smokey Robinson and the miracles
7) I Fall to Pieces 1960
By Patsy Cline
8) tears of a clown 1967
Smokey Robinson in the miracles
Mar 14, 2025
Mar 14, 2025 at 3:55 AM UTC
I knew a witch once, of course she was a good witch, a white witch or so she said
Although I noticed if you ever ****** her off, she wouldn't be long turning into a Black witch
Suddenly she was going to use her power and put a spell on me and I'd be sorry
"Yeah, yeah, yeah", I thought, "there's always the scary mask, isn't there"
No matter where you go in this world
You go to a solicitor/ a Lawyer and they pull out all the legal jargon to bamboozle you with
You go to the Tax Office and it's all Taxspeak, they speak in a strange language all their own
They look human at first but then, then they pull on the scary mask
You go to church and it's all so called Godspeak from out of the Bible
They dress in fancy robes and speak down to you from a pulpit
And of course, the church is very big and well, you! you're very small
And the world likes people made small...the smaller the better
Yea! there's always the scary mask
But what about the human behind the mask
Where's the human that was... that was once a child.
Jun 13, 2025
Jun 13, 2025 at 6:36 PM UTC
dark as dark — held secret
in TV's hoarse static. lining up and
scuttling across the thoroughfares,
vineyards wrung out of blood,
stomped, crevasse pithless.
willowed and scrunched up, a camouflage
of sorts to masquerade proper terrors.
ripe for Decembertime. magnanimous
assault of buses athwart carts jaded
somewhere between the bend and the fang, shadow upon *** of shadow and
the jiggling of loose change in mired pockets igniting a cadence of dithered flame. later, the lights will cross-fade
into criss-cross. x marks the spot
of burials. content with locks secured
by keys and vice versa. hermetic word
sealed shut in the eyes of the sleepless
children. naiveties suckling our mothers.
songs stifling our fathers. bamboozle
of radio intensifies to raw warfare.
our dangers go to work,
unfurling age. septuagenarian is rare,
and in any common rate, death teems
full in the disappearance of mornings
promising river-flown stories of
how everything was once in our hands.
Nov 6, 2015
Nov 6, 2015 at 10:19 AM UTC
He is double-sided
and speaks with a second tongue
There are legions of him
sneaking out from under stones
casting spells
to win you over
would-be plasticized trophy
He will bamboozle you
with the nectar from his lips
He's no sir lancelot but
a shapeshifting
boogie man waiting to
kidnap you and
hang you on his wall
Mar 10, 2022
Mar 10, 2022 at 10:46 PM UTC
He is double-sided
and speaks with a second tongue
There are legions of him
rising out from under stones
casting spells
to win you over
would-be plasticized trophy
He will bamboozle you
with the sweetness of his lips
He is no sir lancelot but
a shapeshifting
boogie man waiting to
kidnap you and
hang you on his wall
Nov 21, 2017
Nov 21, 2017 at 10:43 PM UTC
Brace yourself for a juggernaut, for I’ve a tale to tell.
I’m not out to bamboozle you, for that might send me to Hell.
I’d love for someone to collaborate on this lugubrious tome,
But I’d need to check your bonafides to let you in my pome.
I must admonish all readers to jettison schadenfreude
And accept my obsequious garble as a meaningful factoid
I’m careering about in my Websters, like a disheveled maniac
But I am fastidious in my yen to to give something useful back.
You may think my view is myopic, as I meander to and fro,
But my outlook is homogenous, as you already know.
This write may be intemperate, but I’m not a reprobate,
It’s actually a billet doux that’s a day or two too late.
The love of words is in my soul and swimming in my mind.
I kept a log of every challenge word that I could find
I tried to use them in a way that didn’t change their meaning
Even though that goes against the humor in my leaning.
I owe a lot to BLT for setting up this game we play
And hope I’ve written up enough to get me through this day
ljm
Feb 15, 2022
Feb 15, 2022 at 6:04 PM UTC
you can bamboozle me with most things
that's why i keep it simple, childlike and free
Nov 10, 2016
Nov 10, 2016 at 9:56 PM UTC