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"bamboozled" poems
The question has to be asked, “How hard can it be, for a man to get a decent cup of tea”? How can people get something so simple so wrong? A question that has vexed me for ever so long. Let me be clear, lest there be any confusion I’m not into tea leaves or these fancy new infusions Nor herbal or green, earl grey or the rest A good plain cup of tea is simply the best! I wonder why it is that people bother to ask When they will not put any real effort into the task Yes they are careful to ask how you take your tea But what you get is something different, entirely If there is one thing that really gets to me It is being made a half cup of tea I always opt for a mug because there’s never enough in a cup But for some reason they seem incapable of filling it up! After just two mouthfuls, Surprise! It is all gone! I hate always having to ask for another one All the effort they made has gone to waste The whole experience leaving a very bad taste. Making tea is a formula, very hard to get wrong why so often served weak when I always ask for strong? A small drop of milk please, how hard can it be? But I often get tea in my milk, not milk in my tea I do like my sugar and to tell the truth I do possess an awfully sweet tooth “three and a bit” I say when they ask But is stirring it such an impossible task? How easy can it be? Just move the ****** spoon You were just standing there, what else were you doing? And to see all that sugar sitting there at the end Would drive the most sane person round the bend Another thing I get really mad about Is when people do not take the teabag out And though the cup appears to be full to the top You take the bag out and watch the level drop You might think it’s funny but it’s certainly not What to do with a teabag that is dripping hot? A cup of tea is supposed to help you relax Not be the cause of minor heart attacks And the biggest evil, by far the worst Is those who serve tea, knowing the teabag has burst At the end you get a mouthful of leaves and grit I do love my tea but wonder if it is worth it. It got to the stage where I considered drinking coffee But I was bamboozled by the variety available to me Mocha or latte, perhaps a frappuccino, Or maybe an espresso or a cappuccino No, the idea of drinking coffee just left me cold all I really wanted was a cup of tea truth be told, Though I have been accused of taking this issue too seriously There is nothing in the world quite like…. a decent cup of Tea!
0
Jun 2, 2015
Jun 2, 2015 at 4:11 AM UTC
Tea Minus 10, 9, 8, 7, 6....
The question has to be asked, “How hard can it be, for a man to get a decent cup of tea”? How can people get something so simple so wrong? A question that has vexed me for ever so long. Let me be clear, lest there be any confusion I’m not into tea leaves or these fancy new infusions Nor herbal or green, earl grey or the rest A good plain cup of tea is simply the best! I wonder why it is that people bother to ask When they will not put any real effort into the task Yes they are careful to ask how you take your tea But what you get is something different, entirely If there is one thing that really gets to me It is being made a half cup of tea I always opt for a mug because there’s never enough in a cup But for some reason they seem incapable of filling it up! After just two mouthfuls, Surprise! It is all gone! I hate always having to ask for another one All the effort they made has gone to waste The whole experience leaving a very bad taste. Making tea is a formula, very hard to get wrong why so often served weak when I always ask for strong? A small drop of milk please, how hard can it be? But I often get tea in my milk, not milk in my tea I do like my sugar and to tell the truth I do possess an awfully sweet tooth “three and a bit” I say when they ask But is stirring it such an impossible task? How easy can it be? Just move the ****** spoon You were just standing there, what else were you doing? And to see all that sugar sitting there at the end Would drive the most sane person round the bend Another thing I get really mad about Is when people do not take the teabag out And though the cup appears to be full to the top You take the bag out and watch the level drop You might think it’s funny but it’s certainly not What to do with a teabag that is dripping hot? A cup of tea is supposed to help you relax Not be the cause of minor heart attacks And the biggest evil, by far the worst Is those who serve tea, knowing the teabag has burst At the end you get a mouthful of leaves and grit I do love my tea but wonder if it is worth it. It got to the stage where I considered drinking coffee But I was bamboozled by the variety available to me Mocha or latte, perhaps a frappuccino, Or maybe an espresso or a cappuccino No, the idea of drinking coffee just left me cold all I really wanted was a cup of tea truth be told, Though I have been accused of taking this issue too seriously There is nothing in the world quite like…. a decent cup of Tea!
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52
I bent down to her ear and said Thank you for all you’ve done Not just for NY But for the World She looked at me expressionless from her chair I don’t think that she understood nor cared Then I handed her a little Bag Containing two lipsticks And two pencils I think she threw the pencils on the floor and Wondered aloud Why was everyone giving her pencils? She did not notice that of the two that I gave her one was stamped in gold With the one word Hustler And on the other, two Strictly Business I made no suggestions nor references I didn’t smirk I must have appeared a bit sweet A treacly aberration It doesn’t matter I had selected two perfect reds in LA One a bit more blue and one a classic vampish carmine Blood red can be a challenge even against pale pale Skin. Standing in the lift Fully attuned she caught me not merely looking into her eyes But seeing what I saw A death’s head? I hate when I’m caught doing that Under the fluorescent light She was dog rough Pasty with sad sunken eyes I was thrown, but by what exactly Her magpie distress? Her etheric calamity? Her puffy, aging face? We sat and spoke for a while later that night She did not recognize me at all and apologized maybe it was the next day that the three of us had lunch Everyone in good spirits The mandrake’s screams Forgotten with smiles and a wink Memory bamboozled and Make-up duly applied She took out the lipstick And redrew the lines She liked the shining black case with the little black ribbon for a pull She told our companion sitting on a stoop smoking cigarettes I like your friend and I wondered does she realize that we already know one another?
0
Sep 20, 2018
Sep 20, 2018 at 3:52 PM UTC
Waiting for the Mikestand to Fly
I bent down to her ear and said Thank you for all you’ve done Not just for NY But for the World She looked at me expressionless from her chair I don’t think that she understood nor cared Then I handed her a little Bag Containing two lipsticks And two pencils I think she threw the pencils on the floor and Wondered aloud Why was everyone giving her pencils? She did not notice that of the two that I gave her one was stamped in gold With the one word Hustler And on the other, two Strictly Business I made no suggestions nor references I didn’t smirk I must have appeared a bit sweet A treacly aberration It doesn’t matter I had selected two perfect reds in LA One a bit more blue and one a classic vampish carmine Blood red can be a challenge even against pale pale Skin. Standing in the lift Fully attuned she caught me not merely looking into her eyes But seeing what I saw A death’s head? I hate when I’m caught doing that Under the fluorescent light She was dog rough Pasty with sad sunken eyes I was thrown, but by what exactly Her magpie distress? Her etheric calamity? Her puffy, aging face? We sat and spoke for a while later that night She did not recognize me at all and apologized maybe it was the next day that the three of us had lunch Everyone in good spirits The mandrake’s screams Forgotten with smiles and a wink Memory bamboozled and Make-up duly applied She took out the lipstick And redrew the lines She liked the shining black case with the little black ribbon for a pull She told our companion sitting on a stoop smoking cigarettes I like your friend and I wondered does she realize that we already know one another?
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66
There once was a TV network That made me want to exult But now I am sad and despondent And it’s mostly Steven Moffat’s fault I enthusiastically started Doctor Who Who’s chronology is twisted and bizarre It seemed like such fun to travel through time and space with a man Who used a blue box as his car But soon the companions’ aspirations To travel to planets and stars Were crushed by the Void, lost love, and gargoyles And the Doctor is lonely and scarred. Not yet wise, I began watching Sherlock His deduction left me amazed and bamboozled He and John drank some tea, and solved crimes with glee Although each case took quite some perusal. They lived happily with their cool flat decorum Mrs. Hudson made biscuits below Then along came the menacing, mean Moriarty There was nothing that he didn’t know. Because of the fallacy that Sherlock’s a fake He’s dead and John’s in the doldrums The only thing done to commemorate him Are John’s “I do believe in Sherlock Holmes” Hoping for a show that was boisterous and happy Instead of the peaceful, yet sad I turned to the medieval Merlin who was quite a cheery lad He worked for the king’s son, Arthur who eclectically chose his knights There were sirs Lancelot, Gwaine, and Leon The bravest people in sight. Merlin used his job as camouflage, His secret he did not divulge for if they all knew he was a powerful wizard In his execution King Uther would indulge. Since Merlin’s destiny was to keep the prince safe He faced many scary things He would cower in fear, but when Arthur was near He felt brave enough to sing Merlin’s feelings for Arthur were obvious But does Arthur feel the same way? When Arthur deigns to exchange dialogue with him It instantly brightens his day. But Lancelot died doing Merlin’s job And Arthur is in love with Gwen Morgana, a wizard who was once Merlin’s friend Is evil and wants Camelot dead. So the Doctor is lonely and growing old Sherlock left John all alone And Merlin feels guilty and outcast They’ve lost all the good they’ve ever known. And I am left crying and angry. How could the writers do this to me? But still, they’re the best shows I’ve ever watched And I’ll always love the BBC.
0
May 19, 2013
May 19, 2013 at 11:36 PM UTC
The BBC
There once was a TV network That made me want to exult But now I am sad and despondent And it’s mostly Steven Moffat’s fault I enthusiastically started Doctor Who Who’s chronology is twisted and bizarre It seemed like such fun to travel through time and space with a man Who used a blue box as his car But soon the companions’ aspirations To travel to planets and stars Were crushed by the Void, lost love, and gargoyles And the Doctor is lonely and scarred. Not yet wise, I began watching Sherlock His deduction left me amazed and bamboozled He and John drank some tea, and solved crimes with glee Although each case took quite some perusal. They lived happily with their cool flat decorum Mrs. Hudson made biscuits below Then along came the menacing, mean Moriarty There was nothing that he didn’t know. Because of the fallacy that Sherlock’s a fake He’s dead and John’s in the doldrums The only thing done to commemorate him Are John’s “I do believe in Sherlock Holmes” Hoping for a show that was boisterous and happy Instead of the peaceful, yet sad I turned to the medieval Merlin who was quite a cheery lad He worked for the king’s son, Arthur who eclectically chose his knights There were sirs Lancelot, Gwaine, and Leon The bravest people in sight. Merlin used his job as camouflage, His secret he did not divulge for if they all knew he was a powerful wizard In his execution King Uther would indulge. Since Merlin’s destiny was to keep the prince safe He faced many scary things He would cower in fear, but when Arthur was near He felt brave enough to sing Merlin’s feelings for Arthur were obvious But does Arthur feel the same way? When Arthur deigns to exchange dialogue with him It instantly brightens his day. But Lancelot died doing Merlin’s job And Arthur is in love with Gwen Morgana, a wizard who was once Merlin’s friend Is evil and wants Camelot dead. So the Doctor is lonely and growing old Sherlock left John all alone And Merlin feels guilty and outcast They’ve lost all the good they’ve ever known. And I am left crying and angry. How could the writers do this to me? But still, they’re the best shows I’ve ever watched And I’ll always love the BBC.
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56
Sloshing round the bay road through the foot-deep potholes, glorying in the rain-lashed dark as the wind made the phone-lines sing I saw him. Brown, dishevelled, shivering - a leveret, bamboozled by torchlight diminished in his dripping fur, wild eyes wide and startled. Trying to leap aside, he caught the fence, rebounded, tried again, landing this time in a muddy sheuch, a wired brown ball of panic. "You'll not last long in this, wee man," I muttered, scooping him up, dropping him into the deep dark pocket of my raincoat. Home we went, where two boys waited. I quickened my pace, eager to be the father bearing surprises, to widen the cast-list of this adventure. We dried him off, the boys enchanted. He unfolded. He raised his head. He bounded round the kitchen on impossible elastic legs. "Let's call him Charlie!" cried Robin, and we did. Charlie the Hare. Alien, crazy, impatient. When the rain eased and Charlie was dry, I put him back in my pocket for the journey round the bay. The last I saw of him he was bounding out of sight indifferent to the interlude engaged in other things. Those wild eyes that looked beyond had no place in a cosy kitchen this was no pet, no human companion there was no understanding But every time we see a hare, the boys say, "I wonder if that's Charlie!" and it glows against the backdrop of nature's unfathomable canvas.
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Jun 26, 2015
Jun 26, 2015 at 11:20 AM UTC
Charlie the Hare
Bloodlust is all I see. These droplets, like cranberry constellations, dotting my bibliography. I am nobody's fool, yet you've bamboozled me. A walking contradiction. Demented or balanced, I no longer know. Your bloodlust concerns me.
0
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 10:59 PM UTC
Cranberry Droplets
I stopped commenting on airy internet objects long ago lest it be a needed praise of some starving artists’ work or in response to a worded response of my own work It’s just such a waste of time to tell a million view band they “rock” or they **** All I will incite is defenders or refuters of my claim who are just as petty as me As an immature high schooler, that’s just what I wanted The modern version of my dead grandfathers with their white shirts, blue jeans, and duck *** hair Driving from the city to hick school dances just to pick fights I once typed lines of **** talk on Elvis videos from the 1970s just to see what would happen - Nothing much My grandfathers are dead and no one’s left to defend The King I’m not so tough, but I felt scrappy then just the same Now, with my lowly little job my first world laptop and my glasses Sipping coffee and mellowed out I read some comments to see what people feel about an article on my generation How we’re more corporate than ever bamboozled by a guise of fake uniqueness Sure, I agree with the critique in the article if you can even call it an article People get paid for three lines of an opinion, sometimes a link, and then the real entertainment's in the comments Where can I get in line for this ******* job? Not the commentors, their labor’s free I mean the three lines guy, it sounds too easy “Don’t ya get it yet, son” My grandad chuckles “His job’s just corralling all those comments, inciting easy debate, and getting advertising clicks” He shook his head went up through the roof and his twenty-year-old jeans ended in a wispy swirl But I couldn't help noticing they were name brand
0
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 7:59 PM UTC
Bury Me in Blue Jeans
I stopped commenting on airy internet objects long ago lest it be a needed praise of some starving artists’ work or in response to a worded response of my own work It’s just such a waste of time to tell a million view band they “rock” or they **** All I will incite is defenders or refuters of my claim who are just as petty as me As an immature high schooler, that’s just what I wanted The modern version of my dead grandfathers with their white shirts, blue jeans, and duck *** hair Driving from the city to hick school dances just to pick fights I once typed lines of **** talk on Elvis videos from the 1970s just to see what would happen - Nothing much My grandfathers are dead and no one’s left to defend The King I’m not so tough, but I felt scrappy then just the same Now, with my lowly little job my first world laptop and my glasses Sipping coffee and mellowed out I read some comments to see what people feel about an article on my generation How we’re more corporate than ever bamboozled by a guise of fake uniqueness Sure, I agree with the critique in the article if you can even call it an article People get paid for three lines of an opinion, sometimes a link, and then the real entertainment's in the comments Where can I get in line for this ******* job? Not the commentors, their labor’s free I mean the three lines guy, it sounds too easy “Don’t ya get it yet, son” My grandad chuckles “His job’s just corralling all those comments, inciting easy debate, and getting advertising clicks” He shook his head went up through the roof and his twenty-year-old jeans ended in a wispy swirl But I couldn't help noticing they were name brand
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42
I been bestowed this burden Hiding inside Controlling my actions Dictating what I do And don’t do Limiting my flexibility Adding to my irritability Causing physical pain Adding to my mental distress Complicating my relationships What makes her and them better than me? Why don’t they all suffer like me? What makes me deserve this burden I thought I was doing good Doing what you wanted Shedding the excess Adding to the overall condition But it’s a cheap trick I been bamboozled back to square one Its so hard to keep a smile on my face Knowing what I know inside Lashing out even though they don’t know The ones who know don’t provide support Or assistance just pressure and blame They just say its heriditery In your genetic line I just want it gone But then you tell me What I would miss As if I could miss this Painful embarrassing controlling condition And look with disgust because I rather be barren (c) ANBP 3/25/11
0
Oct 15, 2011
Oct 15, 2011 at 9:08 PM UTC
Hyrs the Rectomy (Here's the Wreck of Me)
Alexander K Opicho (Eldoret, Kenya;[email protected]) Let me take my poetry to the bottom of African latrine As clearly directed by my colonial master, After he read and failed to sing my poem Which I wrote and troubdoured on the digital platform, Of social poem hunters dot commercial My poem’s title was; ode to the heart of the racist, Which I sang as a melody of an anti racist Singing to echo the rights of humanity, Beyond the skinflint castle of the skin Without charm to offend any specific race, But a special dedication to the people living in Diaspora. My dear reader from anonymous country Neither England nor America of Canada, Read my poetry in feat of amok seizure With strong spasm to lynch an African poet, His civilized comment was worst case of universal ignorance That crystallized into arsenal to condemn my poem By desperately demanding that I take my mauverick poem To the stark depth of fresh African latrine, His civilization left me bamboozled to my possible hilt; As his ghastly condemnation sent me to deep frenzy of wonderment; Why a civilized comment must be abusive Why anti racism poetry must be ghastly condemned Why songs of racial freedom should be heinously decimated Why songs of home nostalgia In the bigotry ridden Diaspora abodes Must be taken to the bottom of African latrine? I beg your pardon my dear master, Allow me to take my poetry To the top surface of a white latrine.
0
Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 12:55 PM UTC
TAKING MY POETRY TO THE BOTTOM OF AFRICAN LATRINE
Too skinny to be a tree too fat for grass grows fast yet creaks at every wind
0
Sep 3, 2012
Sep 3, 2012 at 10:57 PM UTC
Bamboozled
When we got our swimming pool We were bamboozled by friends Who popped up uninvited And took over our weekends The friends brought others with them Strangers we didn't even know Our popularity soared Our circle began to grow But were we being naive? Were we playing the fool? We finally learned the truth When we drained the swimming pool
0
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 1:23 PM UTC
HOW TO WIN FRIENDS
Is the wool still being pulled over our eyes Can we still afford to swallow the conspiracy pill of life? Over the years a continual status quo of ultimate B.S. has been force fed to us and we take it and take it with little to no reservation I'm no rebel, but yet my eyes are open to the facts, the clear cut dysfunction of things Contrary to what is written, what is televised, what is tweeted or messaged... we need to wake the hell up before its to late People are you not tired and fed up and seeking more? Do you NOT crave justice? Do you NOT require the truth? Are you NOT tired of being BAMBOOZLED?
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Jul 9, 2016
Jul 9, 2016 at 3:42 AM UTC
BAMBOOZLED
Girl you know I'm lost ...Lost in the thrill of it all... and I was laying with Delilah..when she cut off my hair... and i was lost inside her...blinded right beside her... Eve got me to eat her fruit...and I was buried with her... naked right beside her...bamboozled cuz I need her... Coaxed by my Queen Esther...Iam Lost...Lost in the thrill of it all... Girl you know I'm Lost...inside your temple.. Binned by your ribs...Connected at the heel... Achilles didn't die at will...but was only protect too the heel Medusa stares inside me...and I freeze up to stone.. My soul is given to her...i am lost inside her Girl you know I'm lost......Lost, in the thrill of it all.. Robbed by Rebekah...Blessing will never be the same.. Work 14 years to hold Rachel...caught playing silly games Ill **** just to hold Basheba...but Jezebel is in my bed!!   Tell me where is Mary.....Mary he isn't dead I'm just lost...Lost in the thrill of it all...
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Jul 29, 2013
Jul 29, 2013 at 4:08 PM UTC
Lost
Words I love... jovial clear inconspicuous Bamboozled Incognito opalescent pearly radiant Airy green sprig mushroom Sprite twig nose toes land Sunset deep Vision laughter flame tongue heart hunger cold mold tail rail Grail hand ring sing orange Tangy Sweet scent delicate mysterious deep inside a rose dark hidden within the Mind lights of many colors the layers of an onion peeling away revealing the Pearl inside the oyster... .......... The scent of an orange Tangy Sweet energetic enthusiastic Lively vibrant bright wet sparkling jittery hummingbirds... ...... Acorn Leaf twig mushroom dark deep loamy Earth dig in moist brown worms and moles Growing Seeds tiny things beginnings... ....... Butterflies.. Jewels peacock colors drifting on the breath of the Breeze beautiful gifts tiny angels flitting from flower to bright flower... ...................
0
Feb 12, 2018
Feb 12, 2018 at 12:40 PM UTC
Stream-of-consciousness
Those red-hat doffers Are the blood-thinning vermin. Stop.
0
Nov 23, 2023
Nov 23, 2023 at 9:42 AM UTC
Bamboozled (10W)
Someone once spoke of high windows And begged that I should explore. I gazed, on high, the "historical likeness," Then made my way toward the door. Your wonder is mine, their minds so mistook For the fire they so think impends. But the wonder of waiting, what keeps us from baiting The Wholly bamboozled within. This dubious nature will surely suffice Through this hop, skip and jump to Next Door. While they haven't quite crumbled, you need never grumble For the dead that are gathering more...and more...and more... and more. Well, here's god alas, in this bottom of glass.
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Sep 14, 2012
Sep 14, 2012 at 6:51 AM UTC
What bottom?
The backseat driver's lips began to chap And his jaw locked Thank you Based God The people pleasers asked to hitch a ride They had no mode of transportation And the lack of communication coming from the backseat driver was concerning them even more I thought I was about to be bamboozled when they started to clean the interior I decided to pull over and check out an antique store on the side of the highway They had used toothpicks used by President Eisenhower The word "Anagram" in all upper case letters made of lacquered balsa wood While we were there I tossed out all my unpaid speeding tickets   Then I saw a sign the said "Continental breakfast $2.50!! 3 miles thata way!!" I zoomed to the diner and ordered that continental breakfast for the backseat driver, the people pleasers and myself We each received one coffee, one buttered roll and one danish We all had the same irritated, sour look on our faces We flipped the table in disbelief Attacked the waiter and held the innocent patrons hostage with a fully loaded sling shot And demanded the cook whip us up a gross of spinach horderves As we left the back seat driver called shot gun So we all pilled in with our horderves And I gunned it to 95 The backseat driver held on to the "oh **** handle" for dear life as the people pleasers cheered me on with their mouths full On to Massapequa
0
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 8:53 PM UTC
"Hands at 2 and 10"... "Forget that I keep my left hand at midnight and my right on the radio"
So these muthaphukka claim they know us But they aint out there when the guns bust Trust Enemies is always plottin From all corners They only love u if yousa foreigner No love for the men who died around me Some of my closest friends Were in the army i call em family See i know they got my back If im on a sneak attack No race no trace We'll wipe the smile off the nations face How hypocritical The same people that criticize war Are same people that benefits from war Tears from the soldiers who passed on It wont last long But memories last forever and ever How can i endeavor Chance at life when it was extract from me? If you black like me ya probably already Suffer from ptsd Yea im shell shocked and what not? But it aint about me Its about society and how they treat thee Start race debate so the hate can create A problem White vs black black vs mexican and or asian or other Europeans Look deep in youll see Me and my comrades my demons Aint free Uncle sam abandoned his step children N they wonder why we retaliate Hustling to survive When they print trillions of dollars So the info cant hide Nobody question authority Cuz majority Are too bamboozled by the system The graphic images hunt me day n night Off this man who was shoot on site Eyes split between his head As blood spred all over the soil The turmoil is getting ready to boil How can i regain my life I see karma in the distance Creepin slow waitin for me at Hells Door I wont open up but she'll knock it down Just off one sound Silence is the best killer Red dot on the whole nation Soldiers unit so we can be cash making **** the government Rest in peace To all homies that fought Oversease believe me The beneficiaries ar suffering ptsd
0
Jan 22, 2016
Jan 22, 2016 at 10:05 AM UTC
PTSD
So these muthaphukka claim they know us But they aint out there when the guns bust Trust Enemies is always plottin From all corners They only love u if yousa foreigner No love for the men who died around me Some of my closest friends Were in the army i call em family See i know they got my back If im on a sneak attack No race no trace We'll wipe the smile off the nations face How hypocritical The same people that criticize war Are same people that benefits from war Tears from the soldiers who passed on It wont last long But memories last forever and ever How can i endeavor Chance at life when it was extract from me? If you black like me ya probably already Suffer from ptsd Yea im shell shocked and what not? But it aint about me Its about society and how they treat thee Start race debate so the hate can create A problem White vs black black vs mexican and or asian or other Europeans Look deep in youll see Me and my comrades my demons Aint free Uncle sam abandoned his step children N they wonder why we retaliate Hustling to survive When they print trillions of dollars So the info cant hide Nobody question authority Cuz majority Are too bamboozled by the system The graphic images hunt me day n night Off this man who was shoot on site Eyes split between his head As blood spred all over the soil The turmoil is getting ready to boil How can i regain my life I see karma in the distance Creepin slow waitin for me at Hells Door I wont open up but she'll knock it down Just off one sound Silence is the best killer Red dot on the whole nation Soldiers unit so we can be cash making **** the government Rest in peace To all homies that fought Oversease believe me The beneficiaries ar suffering ptsd
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58
Dear life, I’ve spent 21 years of Crazy, stupid, ludicrous Undecided, Unmanaged Ambiguous life All are this I tag now...??? And all those ******* Fallacious people surrounding I was Bamboozled Abandoned Cheated I was fallen seven times Stand up eight But I never lose my fate Dear life I am struggling for present Not for past That could always be with me last ©Saujan Gyawali 18 october 2014
0
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 10:41 AM UTC
Dear Life
Oh my goodness gracious me oh! Oh, can't you see it That new, New boyfriend Oh no, DID you hear that Their fairytale had ended People talk and talk and talk They say things they don't know about I try to hide all the lies But they bring it up Every single time Hey boy, are you blind Can you not realise This treasure you've found Hey boy, could you wait for me After school, coz I need to talk To you To you Mouth to ear It's all over here .I'm shocked bamboozled Never know you'd do it Listen to all the storylines They differ from each person Did you hear the news They went outta town They had to get outta here Away from all this Articles and stones MAY break my bones But you will never Hurry me with your lies It's time to bury the skeletons Of my old past Lock the door Throw the key away I don't want you near me Yeah, all this happens coz People talk and talk and talk...
0
Aug 8, 2013
Aug 8, 2013 at 1:36 PM UTC
O M G G M O
You are gathered with your friends to play a board game called "What Next" Four people total, Including you. First, the person with brown hair and blue eyes to your right, filled with HATrEd, withdraws a card and deciphers its MYstery: "You are lost at sea on a wooden catamaran. There are others with you. The phone that shows where to turn is broken. How will you unMASK the land?" The pitiful one across from you whispers the answer: "Unlock the old, rusted telescope." It is the pitiful one's turn, who reads with self-reproof, "You are on an island. The boy child with a broken glass face, exposing the fire in HIS head, looks at you accusingly. How do you extinguish the volcano?" Raising a hand in ANGER is the disdainful person with brown hair, who yells, "Punish the boy child! His SCARS will never heal!" The loving soul in red smiles and says: "Wrong, you silly creature. You solve the MYthical puzzle by joining the flesh on the boy child's FACE." It is now THE loving one's turn to select a card (the ticket?), done with a GENTLE flick of the delicate wrist. One singing VOICE chimed, "Spoiled farmer makes you confine the bamboozled man that names your strengths. He SUGGESTS THAT the befuddled has already been put away. How can you possibly solve the Conundrum?" You must answer. Relax! I order you! Find the solution! The patriarch has ordered it! Or else you MUST walk through a curtain of falling bullets showering down. It is the only ESCAPE back to the beginning. Kerry Herrmann
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Mar 24, 2016
Mar 24, 2016 at 11:50 PM UTC
THE GAME
You are gathered with your friends to play a board game called "What Next" Four people total, Including you. First, the person with brown hair and blue eyes to your right, filled with HATrEd, withdraws a card and deciphers its MYstery: "You are lost at sea on a wooden catamaran. There are others with you. The phone that shows where to turn is broken. How will you unMASK the land?" The pitiful one across from you whispers the answer: "Unlock the old, rusted telescope." It is the pitiful one's turn, who reads with self-reproof, "You are on an island. The boy child with a broken glass face, exposing the fire in HIS head, looks at you accusingly. How do you extinguish the volcano?" Raising a hand in ANGER is the disdainful person with brown hair, who yells, "Punish the boy child! His SCARS will never heal!" The loving soul in red smiles and says: "Wrong, you silly creature. You solve the MYthical puzzle by joining the flesh on the boy child's FACE." It is now THE loving one's turn to select a card (the ticket?), done with a GENTLE flick of the delicate wrist. One singing VOICE chimed, "Spoiled farmer makes you confine the bamboozled man that names your strengths. He SUGGESTS THAT the befuddled has already been put away. How can you possibly solve the Conundrum?" You must answer. Relax! I order you! Find the solution! The patriarch has ordered it! Or else you MUST walk through a curtain of falling bullets showering down. It is the only ESCAPE back to the beginning. Kerry Herrmann
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By Arcassin Burnham Scabs fall into waters of the menitonka, everyone imagined, Pleasing the simple pleasures of the simple things That are compatible with misery and pain, I... Was bamboozled by the performance you put on For Your ignorant speech, I find the spirit to oversee what you just made me See, And that was you... Writing 4 page letters, Everlasting endeavors, Pleasing people that would hurt you, So you don't feel forced to love forever whatever... I could, See your pain, You could come out and stop hiding now, I won't put up with your attitude though , we can not see, Eye to eye... *I'm leaving all your ******** on the hood of your car*, So you can process that, *I gave you all my emotions and my love from afar, do you remember that, I had , hopes and dreams for both us to share, and you didn't even care, I'm finding peace in my heart knowing that you are not there, Pieces fall into proper arrangement to everything that We imagined, Giving you laughter when you needed it most in these days Of being disguised slaves with shame and anger, I... Was appalled by the way you treated me when i gave The love, I see it's clear I'm really not the one that you're thinking Of, Of course it's you... Writing 4 page letters, Everlasting endeavors, Pleasing people that would hurt you, So you don't feel forced to love forever whatever... I could, See your pain, You could come out and stop hiding now, I won't put up with your attitude though , we can not see, Eye to eye... *I'm leaving all your ******** on the hood of your car*, So you can process that, *I gave you all my emotions and my love from afar, do you remember that, I had , hopes and dreams for both us to share, and you didn't even care, I'm finding peace in my heart knowing that you are not there.
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Nov 11, 2016
Nov 11, 2016 at 10:06 AM UTC
On The Hood Of The Car
By Arcassin Burnham Scabs fall into waters of the menitonka, everyone imagined, Pleasing the simple pleasures of the simple things That are compatible with misery and pain, I... Was bamboozled by the performance you put on For Your ignorant speech, I find the spirit to oversee what you just made me See, And that was you... Writing 4 page letters, Everlasting endeavors, Pleasing people that would hurt you, So you don't feel forced to love forever whatever... I could, See your pain, You could come out and stop hiding now, I won't put up with your attitude though , we can not see, Eye to eye... *I'm leaving all your ******** on the hood of your car*, So you can process that, *I gave you all my emotions and my love from afar, do you remember that, I had , hopes and dreams for both us to share, and you didn't even care, I'm finding peace in my heart knowing that you are not there, Pieces fall into proper arrangement to everything that We imagined, Giving you laughter when you needed it most in these days Of being disguised slaves with shame and anger, I... Was appalled by the way you treated me when i gave The love, I see it's clear I'm really not the one that you're thinking Of, Of course it's you... Writing 4 page letters, Everlasting endeavors, Pleasing people that would hurt you, So you don't feel forced to love forever whatever... I could, See your pain, You could come out and stop hiding now, I won't put up with your attitude though , we can not see, Eye to eye... *I'm leaving all your ******** on the hood of your car*, So you can process that, *I gave you all my emotions and my love from afar, do you remember that, I had , hopes and dreams for both us to share, and you didn't even care, I'm finding peace in my heart knowing that you are not there.
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Ain't it all damn-glorious! A beautiful morning to you Mr. Velvet suit Softly breezy too... What 'bout bamboozled? Mr. Velvet suit on the street That **** corner foo' Looking for your boo Mr. Velvet suit? Your babae making babies To **** jazz from city blues, Diminishing our cool. A little bit more than sad The only lone piano (Black crescendoes A half key in b-minor) Mr. Velvety is an entrepreneur I doubt he'll ever sue her That girl he got all dressed up for His sweets Mr. Velvet suit's treat His candy shop heat Holding down the bizness The Streets! Mr. Velvet's company. Don't he dress all nice for you? A bright summer morning This here tiny corner of a bruise, Of a great wide world Sin City and Mr. Velvet suit. Good morning! ****** **** He Escalades as I walk The dog Looking for tricks…
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Nov 16, 2019
Nov 16, 2019 at 6:24 PM UTC
Walk The Dog
If I could crack me open And see inside my mind I really truly wonder What on earth i'd find. Aside from all the blood and guts There must be something more Perhaps a spark of magic Or at least a secret door. I passage way to dreamland A train down memory lane A nice comfy padded room For the bits that went insane. Since I really know me I'm certain there would be A stable block of unicorns That only eat ice cream. And in the darkest corner There's probably a door Shutting of a little room Where all my tears are stored. And around the whole thing A great big wall stands tall To give me strength of mind When I am feeling small. I'm entirely certain That there's more than blood and guts Perhaps there's lots of little people In lots of little huts. Maybe they keep me tidy And when they go on strike I get all bamboozled And fall right of my bike. Perhaps they paint the pictures Of all the things I think A hundred tiny artists With sequins, paints and inks. And my imagination must be down to them How else could dream such dreams And forget them all again. Spend a passing moment Thinking on your mind, The possibilities are endless To what might lie inside.
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Jan 2, 2016
Jan 2, 2016 at 6:17 PM UTC
The crazy ramblings of a right royal nut job
Woe betide me Every day as I wake up I sniff the air around me Searching for some hope In these dark, difficult times However, like a fly Buzzing around the dinner table Hope hovers tantalisingly Inviting you to make a lunge Before eluding your reach At the eleventh hour Woe betide me My mood swings like the Sensex From happy to sad From sad to angry From angry to depressed From depressed to stressed Like a sine wave The graph marches on inexorably With no straight line in sight Woe betide me In all my thirty years I have been through a lot Depression, sorrow, grief Heartburn, jealousy, rage Frustration, stress, guilt One thing, however, is certain Anything set in stone Is less likely to tug at my heart strings Than something subtle and nebulous Uncertainty is the worst evil Like a cunning serpent It slithers around us silently Striking when we least expect Sinking its huge fangs Into our soft and supple skin As the poison courses its way Through our delicate bloodstream We are ****** into an abyss Deeper than the Pacific Ocean And from which there is no escape We can only pray in vain As it is only a matter of time Before our souls are ****** out Through our gaping mouths Open, in a silent scream of terror Of course, we could be wrong We may wake up tomorrow And realise it was just a nightmare Nevertheless, the damage has been done Things will never be the same again Woe betide me Marriage is a dream For every man and woman As it heralds a new life A whole new world Full of promise and hope Yes, there are hurdles along the way But none of them are insurmountable Now, however, crisis has stuck Being born autistic is hardly a blessing Since I am often bamboozled By people and social situations However, thanks to therapy I have ridden the storm And stayed afloat Over the last five years Now, however, I am faced With something totally out of my control Thus, all my old insecurities Largely dormant all these years Have broken through the dam Carefully built, through sheer willpower And flooded my mind, heart and soul At the speed of light Thus, I am back To a place where I was, five years ago Never did I think In all these years That I would return To the humble abode of Satan Alas, that's life for you Handing you the greatest shock When you least expect it Woe betide me!! Woe betide us all!!
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Mar 22, 2020
Mar 22, 2020 at 2:17 PM UTC
Woe betide me
Woe betide me Every day as I wake up I sniff the air around me Searching for some hope In these dark, difficult times However, like a fly Buzzing around the dinner table Hope hovers tantalisingly Inviting you to make a lunge Before eluding your reach At the eleventh hour Woe betide me My mood swings like the Sensex From happy to sad From sad to angry From angry to depressed From depressed to stressed Like a sine wave The graph marches on inexorably With no straight line in sight Woe betide me In all my thirty years I have been through a lot Depression, sorrow, grief Heartburn, jealousy, rage Frustration, stress, guilt One thing, however, is certain Anything set in stone Is less likely to tug at my heart strings Than something subtle and nebulous Uncertainty is the worst evil Like a cunning serpent It slithers around us silently Striking when we least expect Sinking its huge fangs Into our soft and supple skin As the poison courses its way Through our delicate bloodstream We are ****** into an abyss Deeper than the Pacific Ocean And from which there is no escape We can only pray in vain As it is only a matter of time Before our souls are ****** out Through our gaping mouths Open, in a silent scream of terror Of course, we could be wrong We may wake up tomorrow And realise it was just a nightmare Nevertheless, the damage has been done Things will never be the same again Woe betide me Marriage is a dream For every man and woman As it heralds a new life A whole new world Full of promise and hope Yes, there are hurdles along the way But none of them are insurmountable Now, however, crisis has stuck Being born autistic is hardly a blessing Since I am often bamboozled By people and social situations However, thanks to therapy I have ridden the storm And stayed afloat Over the last five years Now, however, I am faced With something totally out of my control Thus, all my old insecurities Largely dormant all these years Have broken through the dam Carefully built, through sheer willpower And flooded my mind, heart and soul At the speed of light Thus, I am back To a place where I was, five years ago Never did I think In all these years That I would return To the humble abode of Satan Alas, that's life for you Handing you the greatest shock When you least expect it Woe betide me!! Woe betide us all!!
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