"conning" poems
please be impatient with me for I am Female, Age 19 Please be impatient with me. Three quarters woman in a body, a quartered quartet. The crying viola, off tempo, present but unavailable. The boys want me. The men, more, more. The women most of all. The American Girl dolls on the shelf dusty, witnesses to all my demander’s impatience to take, to own, possess & desire my poses all to pleasure them, wanting many morsos (small bites).
Then, when discarded, my body reeks of
con-f u s i o n. A perfect conjugation, an imperfect conjunction; Conning my mind into letting my body be-fused.
The dolls weep real tears in the city of my mind; flipping out, they too, are impatient with me, and flip me off for they have no good words to express their utter chagrin.
May 16, 2018
May 16, 2018 at 11:27 AM UTC
As swarm of aggressive multi-coloured ants,
Evening traffic charms the highway,
Eerie tree shadows haunt the carriageway at three o'clock,
Shadows will reconfigure and extend as time passes through the sundial of my trip,
This burning night, on the way to smoky city,
Inflames the melting tyres, smoking as if sticky molten caramel,
Bathes highway with red hot haze,
I jump as air conditioning, kicks in,
Conning me my journey's nearly done,
In the heat of the evening sun,
Wakes me from my slumbers doze,
Traffic slows through rush hour jams,
Dances,weaving lane to lane,
Through rush hour congestion's indigestion!
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Jul 12, 2013
Jul 12, 2013 at 6:05 PM UTC
Sunk in my armchairI stare from the gloomThe never-ending soundOf cars that drift onWith minds on the roadAnd eyes straight aheadCash register for mileageChing ching in their head-If stripped of the clothingAre we all just the sameWe want to be themTo be part of this gameAnd the cars that drift onWith their badges of wealthThese tokens of greatnessMuch better than mine-Once I was partOf this greed that we wantBut now I am nothingSomeone that just hopesMy boys birthdays comingHow much would it costTo bring smiles to his faceWithout knowing the lossYet who will sufferAs my daughter is nextAnd kids have no boundariesWhen friends have the best-And people with moneyNow scorn on my lifeTo some I’m a scroungerWhilst dodging tax with their perksThose LLP peopleWho employ mystery wivesAnd lie on their tax billsTo hoard cash for their lives-A tenner for cleaningAn old boys flatBuys cake for my kidsAs a one off treatYet who is more guiltyOf conning the stateAs I sit in my armchairAnd cars drive on past
Feb 27, 2010
Feb 27, 2010 at 11:31 PM UTC
A con man rolled into town,
With a funny looking wig.
Made a lot of promises,
Everything will be really big.
He claims he doesn’t like immigrants,
Says they cause a lot of strife,
But you certainly would never know,
By looking at his imported wife.
And he doesn’t like Muslims,
And forget it if you’re black.
And as for those pesky Mexicans,
He’s sending them all back.
He says he has a really big plan,
To cure America’s ills,
But you got to wonder about a guy,
Who can’t even pay his own bills.
He has experience in business,
His bankruptcies total four,
And with a temperament like his,
We’ll soon be in another war.
Spews a whole lot of hot air,
That he can improve the current state,
Never says anything definite,
But don’t worry it’ll all be great.
He wants to close the internet,
And the border to the South,
But if he’s going to close anything,
Please let it be his mouth.
Oh he makes a lot of promises,
And they’re all as fake as his hair,
And the saddest part about it,
Is his followers just don’t care.
07-31-16.
Oct 26, 2016
Oct 26, 2016 at 12:08 AM UTC
Dagger buried in the depths of my heart,
pain seeping out of every crease causing of an eruption of tears.
Consistent manipulation into giving up my hopes,
A conning of my inner treasure.
Mend the broken pieces of my emotions,
the scattering of my feelings,
shredded apart because of a stolen hope.
A borrowed courage to believe that I could be loved.
The right to know that a heart was destined to belong with mines.
The privilege to smile without reason.
Pinpointing the flaws of my love,
questioning where does it become “too much”?
Torn apart from the inside,
a decaying courage to try,
denying myself of the experience to fall,
pain accumulating with every ignored cry,
every plead pushed to the side.
A vacant space now occupies the nucleus of my emotions.
They withered away with every disappointment and tear.
So everything within me dies,
(Oh, how bitter the feeling)
in hopes of a rebirth.
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 6:09 PM UTC
Remember when this used to be a bodega where you could by an egg a few cigarettes and some *******
I only bought **** there
a couple of times
I really went in there for milk or coffee
or an Entenmann’s raspberry danish in the big long rectangle.
I don’t remember the brand I smoked then
but they didn’t sell them.
The guy next door in my building had a thing for rich girls with flash cars
who would buy him clothes and other such presents
He was from the OC
and what he was doing in Brooklyn
I don’t even know
He got involved with some local
Columbians
Through the corner bodega
And of course proceeded
to date one of their women.
The OC Romeo.
Lady Lover.
Irresistible.
Pink Lacrosse shirt.
Turned up collar.
Leisure slacks.
I had to tell him once to not slap his thigh at me
When I passed him
on that corner
Posing with his newfound buddies.
And to give me back my cassette.
He tells me he left it out on the window sill
And it rained and got wet.
I said give it back anyway.
Not too long after he was gone.
Both he and his yuppie roommate
I heard he moved back to Newport Beach.
I wondered why he ran
Cuz I know he ran
Fast
I had some crazy neighbors in Hollywood
who disappeared
into the Russian night.
Someone spotted them a year later.
Playing with the wrong people.
Taking liberties.
Conning a con.
Your life really is not worth
very much
in those circles
so you’d better be quick on your feet.
Jun 21, 2019
Jun 21, 2019 at 2:24 PM UTC
I would like to string all bankers up the nearest tree
Conning the public for years then given our money for free
I would like the bankers to experience severe dental pain
Maybe attach a rope to their feet and pull them behind a train
For their unscrupulous demeanour, disposition, debauchery and dispensation...
they deserve the spinal column removal and vasectomy operations.
Jul 27, 2014
Jul 27, 2014 at 8:46 PM UTC
I wish I could run to end of the cosmos
Just reach the reluctant intellectuals
Just so I could catch a glimpse of them ducking out of the limelight
I wouldn’t bother asking them
It wouldn’t do any good
They wouldn’t have much to say
They’d be a bit focused sticking to their morals
And criticizing the museums
Tell them to open up just a little bit
So that way everyone could rush in
Empty canvas in hand
Or typewriters
Or a marble slab waiting for them
They’d rush in
Bringing a beautiful fire to everything else
Explaining themselves to Matisse and Greco
Mona Lisa and Caravaggio would understand though
At least I think so
Van Gogh laughing in utter delight
The fire would burn all the glitz and convention
But all the passion
Emotion
Angst
Uncontemplated beauty would shine brighter than ever before
Some observers would go insane
Climbing up to the top of skyscrapers
Jumping off
Screaming, on their way down
DUCHAMP
Conning the police out of their guns
Putting it to their head
Walking into the middle of the street
Welcoming the buses with open arms
And I know you want to save those people
But it’s not up to you
We’ll see them again someday
Hopefully they’ll understand it then
Don’t cry for them, though
Look at all the others
Running through the streets
Naked
Without shame
Greeting their friends from so many years ago
As they stand in front of Rothko and he looks into both of their eyes
And they stare back trying to let themselves be encircled
With smiles
That shine like halos
As they look at their sisters
Without lust
And with compassion
While they express their enthusiasm for jazz
And sing as loud as trumpets
Dancing as fast as a piano
I’m finished crying for the dinosaurs
Or feeling guilty for Christ
I jump into the smile of the moon
I spread my arms wide open in front of the sun
Just to let him know that he’s welcome
Dec 18, 2011
Dec 18, 2011 at 3:06 AM UTC
Cloudy days always get to me to be honest. The sun shining but still chilling my heart right in the core. I Always dreamed of finding that special woman in my life and now I ask myself have I found her? It's like the loneliness is finally gone like a light at the end of the tunnel. There are nights and days where I ask myself why me of all people in the world but no matter what I ain't planning to lose you because you made an impact more then a friend. I feel comfort I feel love I feel warmth conning from your soul and I don't ever want it to end . We both have big dreams and big ideas and some don't go as planned but it's all part of the thrill all part of the journey. There are days where you leave me speechless without words and days smilling like a kid with a new toy. Baby your one of a kind like a shooting star each one is different but of all I only want one specfic star. Heh who knows what would happen in the future but it's a journey I want to share with you
Oct 13, 2015
Oct 13, 2015 at 2:36 PM UTC
Two men entering the arena
From different regions
Battling
For a precious beauty
Named Sabula
With weapons of choice
Bravery is thy game
Courage
I stand upon
Death is only misfortune
My record of victories
Speaks for itself
Challenging with my conning skills
Boldness and swiftness which involves
A competitor's stance
May the spirits hold me
As I slew
This ignorant runt
For a beauty
I must assassinate
Jan 19, 2010
Jan 19, 2010 at 6:02 PM UTC
Someone You May Know
I know what’s going on, don’t play the fool
Hiding behind your oh so charming smile
You may deceive others with your smooth guile
But I know you are rotten and so cruel
Conning your way through life, you’re such a tool
When you are found out, all will agree you are vile
I know what’s going on, don’t play the fool
Hiding behind your oh so charming smile
A stranger you are to just laws and rules
Instead, your lifestyle leaves me most hostile
What a wretch, a fiend; you are such a ghoul
I know what’s going on, don’t play the fool
Hiding behind your oh so charming smile
Kelly Rose
© January 13, 2017
Jan 13, 2017
Jan 13, 2017 at 6:56 PM UTC
People are smiling with the back of their teeth;
Hookers are toiling themselves off their feet;
The cops avoid the crooks on their beat;
Scammers are conning cause we all want to cheat;
Fishes are breathing on the banks of the creek;
Government fingers can't stop the slow leaks;
The searchers stopped searching, there's nothing to seek;
Voyeurs are seeing without sneaking a peek;
The strong are loosing to the strength of the weak;
The jocks are surrounded by the number of geeks;
The circus is posting jobs for the freaks;
The Colonel's chicken has twelve secret beaks;
The beds are empty as no one can sleep;
The weeds are filling the cracks in our streets;
The guards are chained in castle keeps;
And all about us grows weary and bleak;
Our tongues are loose,
Still nobody speaks.
Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 12:13 PM UTC
silence the everlasting
fire, and the thirst of
your skin, well satisfed.
never doubtfull, your eyes
shine of placer, desire, and
complete satisfaction.
humdty in my pelvis, the
silky and sour shine, in the
lap of this gratefull and loved
lion.
and for a minute,
just in that moment, im
complete, serene, loved, wanted,
a full beast, serened and thankfull
the sorrow, the pain, and fouling acts,
and the brutal theft, are just bumps,
overcomed, erased with the humidity
of your ***
doubtfull is the one, that
has not loved, her lie is a heavy
cross, dark, fatal, deadly, her soul
will never love beneath the divine
phalus.
in return, your eyes, truth,
love and venture, loving an
impossible, but loving even so,
stertores of your loved and
kissed ******
penetrated, softly and ferouciously,
are the echo of the fire, crashing the
sea, making life, steam, watering the
earth, generating the trofhic cicle,
of life, fire and water, steam of life,
passion between two beasts,
beautiful and loved.
your honney and your
desire, WILD, intense,
evergreene, are vitals,
for a beast of montecristo,
that just drags, harm and pain,
of betrayal, every cut, every scratch,
every stabing, made of me, the strong man
that y am.
unbreakcable, and living, loving impossibles
destroying the lies, ending the weakness
of layars, full of hate, and envy,
for losing that, holding our
lives.
after that, and for their weakness
montecristo is the winner, a beast
with a heart, learning to love, the possible
and the impossible, to dissapear in the other,
rapped in her ligth, and her beauty,
the evil and weak of the mondego girls,
only speed up, their catastrophy,
y stand alone before their mistakes, and their
lies and anathems, turn against them,
truth clean the waters, and the fire make the
steam, that generates life, makng a full cicle.
so, threw desire, and mutual passion,
impossible happens, in the name of life,
and love, the desire quimera, could never erase
the time we touch, dispise the difference
full and wild.
generating steam, making life,
roaring, ******* groaning, and
in my mind and in yours, the same
desire, the overwelming truth, our truth,
and the incompresible lie, vain, the
echoes of the false, and ther infectious lies,
corrupting wath was always life.
the false notion of love, and their
acomplisses, with her conning, and the
not aceptacion, vain or insane,
dark, crazy and
incomplte.
Aug 14, 2016
Aug 14, 2016 at 1:59 AM UTC
It was much better staring at the ceiling
Living life was better without feeling
Lying with her
Life was a blur
I never thought I'd die
It was too hard to say goodbye
We lived in New York
All the wine was uncorked
Your dress may have been red
You are I were secretly wed
And all this must have led
To how I ended up dead
I was nothing but a con man
But she stole my heart again
Now I'm conning my life
For just one more night
They all say I'm dying
But at least I'm trying
She won't tell me where it was
She can't feel my love buzz
She'll pull the plug now
She'll go hang with a new crowd
Jan 9, 2015
Jan 9, 2015 at 10:41 PM UTC
RCH CABLE SCAM GOING AROUND
PLEASE DON’T BE A VICTIM BEING FOUND
YOU THOUGHT YOU WERE SLICK
BUT I ACTED REALLY QUICK
I FIGURED YOUR SCAM OUT
ROCHDALE MANAGEMENT ALERTED ABOUT
SO YOU WERE RESEARCHED AND SPECTRUM SAYS YOU WERE A COLLECTION AGENCY
BUT YOU ARE NO RELATION TO SPECTRUM
RCH CABLE IS NO CONNECTION TO SPECTRUM AT ALL
SENATOR CHUCK SCHUMER, THE MEDIA AND THE NEW YORK STATE ATTORNEY WERE INFORMED
SO RCH CABLE, YOU ARE NOW ON ALARM
YOUR COLLECTION AGENCY IS A TOTAL LIE
THE QUESTION IS A BIG WHY?
YOUR EFFORT FAILED THE FIRST TRY
I DON’T WANT SOME POOR SOUL TO FALL INTO YOUR TRAP
ALL EFFORTS WAS NOTHING BUT CRAP
THERE WILL BE AN END TO YOUR SCAM
THAT IS BECAUSE I AM A PERSON BEING KNOWLEDGEABLE AS I AM
MY MISSION IS TO NOT LET YOUR SCAMMING BEING ANOTHER VICTIM’S PLIGHT
I AM EXPOSING YOU IN PLAIN SIGHT
MY COMPLEX OF ROCHDALE VILLAGE WILL BE AWARE
MY INFORMATION OH YES I DID SHARE
YOU WERE ALL ABOUT CONNING MONEY
YOU SHOULD BE IN JAIL STUCK LIKE HONEY
SO EVERYONE BE CAREFUL AND DON’T ANSWER YOUR DOOR
RCH CABLE YOU MUST IGNORE
ALERT, CAUTION AND BEWARE AT THE SAME TIME
PLEASE KEEP WHAT I SAID IN MIND.
May 13, 2019
May 13, 2019 at 3:07 PM UTC
for some have known where the man resides
it isn't in northern hemisphere's tides
yet he insists on telling a falsehood
to the gullible that he's so convinced
could be said his conning is well minced
a southland record does factually show
his address is in sub-urban street's row
definite the look of Oz neighbourhood
mister Kneale's abode revealed to all
we've the oil on his hideout's bricked wall
he did flee from the wife and kids back then
thereby not wishing to be located
all fatherly duties abrogated
so he could have the life of a single Ken
Dec 13, 2016
Dec 13, 2016 at 8:25 PM UTC
Deep within the labyrinthine recesses of my mind
Lies my Id.
Or Subconscious
Or whatever you will.
So when I sleep and dream
My Id presents me with scenes
Full of seemingly incredible detail:
Countless objects set before me
In a wonderfully vivid landscape.
How on Earth does my Id store and display
All these amazing things?
Or is it conning me somehow?
For my Id loves to taunt and tease me.
With dreams of finding myself undressed
In public.
Stressful nightmares of being given impossible mental
And practical challenges to complete.
Of being lost and unable to find my way
Home.
Endless journeys by train and bus
Travelling the country in my quest
To get back in the *****
Of my loving family.
Bee swarms and nasty infestations of bugs.
The Forbidden Planet had its “Monsters of the Id”
And on rare occasions I have woken to continued dreams
Of snakes and people who shouldn’t be there.
And that Giant Eye!
God forbid my sleeping dreams should invade reality,
In the Twilight Zone.
But on the plus side, my dreams can be filled
With seemingly original music
And pleasantries I’d better leave
To your imagination.
Wink, wink.
Paul Butters
© PB 29\1\2024.
Jan 29, 2024
Jan 29, 2024 at 8:55 AM UTC
Escalating conning of our Ship of State by the S.S. Tea Party tug into
Plymouth' Rocks is projected to be invisible, non-existent and normal, but
Gandhi taught "the root of all oppression lies in (supposed) science", also,
normalcy, I never suffered or suffered from northern malaise, euro-centrism,
nor academia, a blood disease. The direct linx between the purposeful non-
prevention and denial of smoking cigarettes distributing cancer, mass-death,
economic destruction (dictating subjugation to and replication of the medical
industrial complex, the con), climate crisis denial and Covid-19 pandemic
denial doing the same, can't be over emphasized. The supposed sciences'
non-renewable fuel nexus', self-possessed/avarice pyramid scam, of imperial,
patriarchal, colonial, global oligarchic supposed power, run and ruled by
the bi-polar axi of global supposed power, cold war called West vs. East,
**** of Utin's headed, republican, capitalist not-see one (who are also
totalitarian, materialists) and Utin of Rump's ... headed, communist,
socialist totalitarian two (who are also not-see, materialists), a false
duality/dichotomy (there's also no 'sides', a delusional construct) ...
Apr 30, 2020
Apr 30, 2020 at 2:33 AM UTC
I want to sit and play with the greats.
I want to see myself singing songs that scream my soul.
I want to write and make history in a studio.
I want to be successful, but satisfied, too.
I want to master the JOURNEY of music.
I don’t want to or care about being the best, because
Who cares if an album goes platinum and
It isn’t written by the REAL you, not
Some cracked corporate cunning conning conundrum
Cancer-causing cannibalistic contagious canary that sings songs
More plastic than the casing on a vinyl?
No, I don’t believe and won’t believe
In your censorship and your lies
Telling me that the public will hear it
If the truth is full of flies
Would God be glad if you wrote that down?
Would your parents get angry and sue?
But I wrote them from what was hiding
In a basement filthy stew.
No, I don’t believe and can’t believe
In red stained glasses on brick
But those bullets they flew that day
To a shattered mind they stick.
Should I carry on the journey now?
Is it a burden worth to hold?
But I’ve got to keep the people happy
Cause a Grammy’s worth just like gold
Yes, I do believe and should believe
In the power of a sound-filled disc
The power of a musical drug
With no added harmful risk.
You wouldn’t believe if I got up to say
That I’m living 1984
But look all around at the artists that sing
Without a chance knowing of more.
I want to be strong and careless.
I want to learn more about learning more of myself.
I would like to be a member of the Plastic Ono Band
But the dream is over, and new bands start today.
Apr 28, 2018
Apr 28, 2018 at 9:08 AM UTC
It is commonly known
That THEY CAN NEVER KEEP IT REAL
from the most powerful man in the world
publicly revealed as ' a racist, a con-man and a cheat'
to the ***** scroungers and thieves in Bow, East London
it's inherited common traits in all of them from low to high
History holds a million tales
of, their LIES, DECEIT, THEFTS, HATE and VIOLENCE
Crooks, chancers, unscrupulous merchants blazing false trails
Conning and stupefying, misappropriating, stealing and looting
Sowing lies and discontents, dividing and ruling in murky fashion
without a pang of conscience they steal and destroy with a pale smile
With glib sharp tongues and dead eyes
and SOULLESS, IMMORAL, AMORAL, DEVIOUS and RUTHLESS
they manipulate, cajole, dance with satan and would sell their mums
as long as they have control, all elses are below and there're profits in
It's all about them and the world and all in it was made to serve them
because they know how to LIE. CON, HATE, STEAL, **** FOOL
and
NEVER KEEP IT REAL
Feb 28, 2019
Feb 28, 2019 at 8:39 AM UTC
It floated ashore one pitch black night
We hadn’t seen it before,
All covered in barnacles and scale
Cast up from a distant war,
It gently rolled as the tide came in
And hit the rocks with a ‘clang’,
Then settled down as its scuppers cleared
The decks, all covered in sand.
The conning tower was an evil sight
Its paint was peeling away,
Ribbons of black, as camouflage
Peeled off in the light of day,
And there we could see the ********
Look down with an evil leer,
As once it looked on its victims when
It ruled in a sea of fear.
The storm that had brought it to the shore
Took far too long to abate,
It raged and roared for a week before
We’d take the risk on its plate,
But then we found that the rust had hid
All access into its gloom,
We walked the whole of its length but found
No way to enter the tomb.
There must have been twenty men inside
Or what was left of their bones,
But all I’d hear when the night was clear
Was a chorus of shrieks and moans.
We smashed the hatch in the conning tower
And a sailor ventured in,
We hauled him out in a quarter hour
But his mind was wandering.
I saw some movement deep in the hull
And I called out, ‘Who goes there?’
But then a guttural German voice
Had answered, in despair,
‘Stay well away from the conning tower
It’s a type of evil well,
Once within you are caught in sin
And you’ll find yourself in Hell.’
The sea rose up and covered the rocks
And it floated off the sub,
While all the bones in their shrieks and moans
Screamed ‘Mercy’ - there’s the rub,
They called for mercy they never gave
When they sank each helpless crew,
Now roam forever beneath the waves
In a sub, now sunken too.
David Lewis Paget
Jul 27, 2016
Jul 27, 2016 at 9:05 AM UTC
I often find my posits dreadful,
Happiness flies merely fleet,
So much compounds, accosts a headful
Angry, gnawing, awful heat!
In joyful sorrow I must live
For truest joy is not to be
And frightened by, as laws decree,
A final debt, a life to give.
(Then summons me, my last repose,
To Heavens Gate, that some suppose.)
I cannot shed this melanchol’,
So Viper-like time’s turbulence,
Nor sally forth ‘pon brevet fall,
Conning self in feckless hence
When plaintiff Hell wraths from my lips,
“O’ Fie! Ye craven Viper! Fie!
Why should it be that I must die?”,
By fevered brain’s convulsive flips.
(As if a Viper’s state be blamed
For thus which gives me abject pain.)
And in these throes of torrid temper
Comes a hummingbird in flight,
Engaged in moments: basic, simpler,
Perfect-formed wee aero-sprite!
So happily he flits about
When seeking nectar, bloom-by-bloom,
In flowers bright as peacock plumes
And worries not of Earthly doubts.
(For hummingbirds have innate sense
Of urbane thoughts and true pretense.)
His playful flight in mayful flutter
Sagely parries **** the trees
Through ev’ry leaf he flies a’scutter
Daring, as his heart will please!
My dearth, it seems, I now forget;
A tiny smile claims my face
And grows to full by levied grace
To pause my Earthly-borne regret!
(This newly forged respite from woe
Has cast away my pitied trow!)
What revelation rids my sadness
(All those worries disappear)
And what was anguish turns to gladness
Gone, the nagging mortal fears.
O’ they’ll return, I have no doubt,
To wrest my contemplative mind
But now assured that I can find
A joyful thought to fight such bout
I will forever carry near.
And to the hummingbird in flight
I’ll cherish how you drew my sight
To rid a foolish mortal’s tears.
(As hummingbirds will understand
The foibles taken by our hand.)
Aug 18, 2019
Aug 18, 2019 at 9:17 PM UTC
*She paints on her face
Smothering her true visage
An honest liar.
She fixes a smile
Upon her broken canvas
Conning the masses.
She perfects her role
In her finest performance,
Convincing actress*
Jul 3, 2015
Jul 3, 2015 at 4:56 AM UTC