"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!
Jun 2, 2015
Jun 2, 2015 at 4:11 AM UTC
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?
Sep 20, 2018
Sep 20, 2018 at 3:52 PM UTC
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.
May 19, 2013
May 19, 2013 at 11:36 PM UTC
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.
Jun 26, 2015
Jun 26, 2015 at 11:20 AM UTC
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.
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 10:59 PM UTC
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
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 7:59 PM UTC
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
Oct 15, 2011
Oct 15, 2011 at 9:08 PM UTC
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.
Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 12:55 PM UTC
Too skinny
to be a tree
too fat
for grass
grows fast
yet creaks
at every wind
Sep 3, 2012
Sep 3, 2012 at 10:57 PM UTC
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
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 1:23 PM UTC
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?
Jul 9, 2016
Jul 9, 2016 at 3:42 AM UTC
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...
Jul 29, 2013
Jul 29, 2013 at 4:08 PM UTC
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...
...................
Feb 12, 2018
Feb 12, 2018 at 12:40 PM UTC
Those red-hat doffers
Are the blood-thinning vermin.
Stop.
Nov 23, 2023
Nov 23, 2023 at 9:42 AM UTC
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.
Sep 14, 2012
Sep 14, 2012 at 6:51 AM UTC
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
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 8:53 PM UTC
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
Jan 22, 2016
Jan 22, 2016 at 10:05 AM UTC
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
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 10:41 AM UTC
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...
Aug 8, 2013
Aug 8, 2013 at 1:36 PM UTC
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
Mar 24, 2016
Mar 24, 2016 at 11:50 PM UTC
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.
Nov 11, 2016
Nov 11, 2016 at 10:06 AM UTC
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…
Nov 16, 2019
Nov 16, 2019 at 6:24 PM UTC
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.
Jan 2, 2016
Jan 2, 2016 at 6:17 PM UTC
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!!
Mar 22, 2020
Mar 22, 2020 at 2:17 PM UTC