"conspirator" poems
Immutable proportions, unfaithfully seduced
By this grey witch,
new age daughter of the light;
mother earth midwife:
Co-conspirator of the New World order.
Green occult mysteries
reveal a gold and forgotten bridge
from science to religion.
Learning, Peace, Love, Appreciation:
"The truth shall set you free."
We are one Self.
~
Discover a golden bridge within!
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 7:23 PM UTC
voices in hushed tones,
sound like the wind, blowing
heard but not a scene,
not loud or mean,
delicate breath breathed,
secret shared sounds,
a hummingbird,
a dragonfly,
a conspirator,
a love,
shhhhhhh,
listen and if you hear,
you might understand,
and if you do,
that changes everything,
a whisper,
is a power, an engine
of change,
or just plain rude!
©DWE072013
Jul 11, 2013
Jul 11, 2013 at 9:43 PM UTC
Immutable proportions, unfaithfully seduced
By this grey witch,
new age daughter of the light;
mother earth midwife:
Co-conspirator of the New World order.
Green occult mysteries
reveal a gold and forgotten bridge
from science to religion.
Learning, Peace, Love, Appreciation:
"The truth shall set you free."
We are one Self.
~
Discover a golden bridge within!
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 7:22 PM UTC
Yesterday was a rotten one
For Donald Trump. What a shame!
In desperation Trump has jumped
Out of the frying pan into the flame.
His friend and former campaign manager,
Paul Manafort, was convicted
On eight felony counts, although
More convictions had been predicted.
Then his lawyer, Michael Cohen,
Pleaded guilty on eight counts
And implicated the president
In a felony, as the tension mounts.
Trump is an unindicted co-
Conspirator in a federal crime,
According to Cohen--something that many
Have suspected all the time.
Also, an early supporter in Congress,
Hunter Duncan, was indicted
For the misuse of campaign funds.
Do all who touch Trump become blighted?
Meanwhile, Omarosa says
She has many more tapes to play.
It almost seems as though the president's
Teflon coating is wearing away.
As Trump's Republican defenders
In Congress flat out refuse to condemn
Trump's actions, people wonder,
"What does Putin have on THEM?"
"I always hire the best people,"
Donald Trump would frequently boast.
Stay away from Donald Trump
Or you, too, are going to be toast.
-by Bob B (8-22-18)
Aug 22, 2018
Aug 22, 2018 at 9:20 AM UTC
Quack Doctor
Fake Supervisor
Bogus Professor
Deceitful Color
Common Denominator.
Bomb Inventor
Rifle Creator
Device Innovator
Reigning Terror
Common Denominator.
Untruthful Suitor
Promiscuous Actor
Love Collector
Artificial Amour
Common Denominator.
Abusive Creditor
Illegal Investor
Unlawful Director
Greed Factor
Common Denominator.
Rogue Investigator
Friendly Assassinator
Double Conspirator
Backstab Traitor
Common Denominator.
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 10:06 PM UTC
After a tiny nap I woke up,
And gave the curtain drapes a push-up,
Just to witness how they were torn-up.
I had no clue on who did it,
I doubted my brother cutting it a bit
Thinking it is a chit!
Then I had to spare him,
Because he was at the gym.
And then I saw my window open to view,
And suspected the squirrel anew.
Thus came the huge conspirator,
The squrriel, the top operator
Who tore my curtain drapes
Thinking they were edibles!
And now, I here my mother call,
Who is going to enter my room, so tall,
I don't know how I am going to tell her all,
For the squirrel tore my curtain; though small
Now I need to manage the brawl.
Jan 6, 2013
Jan 6, 2013 at 12:23 AM UTC
Catastrophic
Catatonic
Claustrophobic
Annihilation
One time salvation
Breakout of the contaminated
Destination of taxation without representation
Conspirator to predetermination
Bastardized paradox within a mind flux
Mentality of antagonizing accusations
A nine-cent flag now costing nine dollars
Fronting of the war effort while at home on a family vacation
Apr 25, 2011
Apr 25, 2011 at 6:21 AM UTC
Adobe skinned mimicry of light,
Piece of pebbly lunar surface fallen
To misty ******* reverse panoply,
Spiny spar of stellar tapestry
Nimbly navigating mortared limbs
In sultry sea-cellar ballet,
Rocky roofed conspirator of clams,
Swarthy pirate, silent smithy of shells.
Aug 13, 2010
Aug 13, 2010 at 10:12 AM UTC
Convicted and condemned, I hang
Upon a cross of wood .
With me my co-conspirator
And a rabbi, one reputed good.
I hear the rabble mocking him;
This teacher crowned with thorns.
Like me, he struggles for each breath.
Like he, he’s suffering and alone.
We are naked to the wind
There is no dignity in this death
For one like me so steeped in sin.
I beg a blessing for my soul
Before eternity beckons Him
He looks at me with kindness then
and speaks to me of Paradise.
I sense He’s dying as we speak
Though I have sinned, he pays my price.
I hear him cry out to the sky
as he yields his spirit up.
The sky grows dark, Golgotha shakes
A solider with a stave draws near.
Lord I will follow soon enough.
Apr 17, 2017
Apr 17, 2017 at 8:55 AM UTC
The pine tree that stands on the outskirts of the pasture
Swaying in time with the wind as if dancing to an encrypted tune
Has been my good friend and conspirator for many years
My mom forbids me from climbing the pine’s frail branches
The wood appears so strong but can crack without a moment’s notice
I disregard her order on occasion and scale up the tree
Which consequently results in injuries that last for days
The pine tree, the one companion I can count on to never argue, complain, or disagree
Has for quite a long time allowed my siblings, cousins, and I
To scamper up and down her branches
Much like crazed squirrels
I trust her with my secrets
This tree, which tastes so strongly of an unusual combination
Of freedom and danger
Allows me to climb quickly and quietly
So that I am unseen by parents or tattletales
Up to the highest point I can, where I hug her warm, rough trunk
Take in the scent of minty needles and warm Minnesota summers
Watch the wandering cars fly past on the endless trail of asphalt that is the highway
And feel the soft breeze that is nonexistent twenty feet below
I’ve claimed the pine tree as my own
Up in her branches I feel brave and it’s almost as if I can feel
Something like happiness emanating from inside her
I often go to her to escape heated arguments or to taste the inspiration she gives me
When I have a notebook and pen in hand
My pine tree will always understand me
And this is why I love her
Just like me, she has a dark sense of humor
And occasionally
SNAP!
Then, like always, I pick myself up, brush myself off
Look up at yet another broken branch
And climb to the top once again
My favorite place in the world
Mostly because I’m not allowed to be there
Mar 22, 2013
Mar 22, 2013 at 11:33 PM UTC
he called me *****
when I left the room,
he called me *****
My tomes of Shakespeare,
witnesses,
fellow poets all, my wall decor.
well familiar with fools,
reported the occurrence
upon my return.
confronted, it,
he did not deny,
for he understood
pointless
at that point,
exceedingly well.
was not angered, simply asking,
since he fancied himself a poet, did
he know any rhymes for that word?
in the interest
of poetic brevity,
answered for him.
*****
witch.
twitch.
gave him reason to use
those words
sequentially.
after that, he addressed me
as mistress, or **********
with respect, an attitude
that was previously
menu unavailable.
what then shall we call you?
the Bard,
his Band of Brothers, and I
jointly confabed.
undignified is slave,
Shakespeare opined,
human dignity needs
respecting.
my walled observer,
co-conspirator of
all that transpired,
drew upon his
own source material,
suggested,
knave.
yes, quite apropos,
my considered reply,
a fool always, and still,
after all, was he not
himself not a
son of a *****
as much as I,
Brandy Channing, is, was, daughter, proud, child
of one great and wonderful Queen
*****
Jul 10, 2020
Jul 10, 2020 at 12:15 AM UTC
tiger, he was,
could not honestly,
tell you the breed...
he was a mispent afternoon's produce....
but by the stock of his body
and the smile on his face
some one's prize corgi,
was now in disgrace...
allways a smile and a little
yip-yap...
he was my childhood,
of running and jumping,
just because, we could.
the picking of blackberries,
the finding of mushrooms,
wandering along creeks
and afternoon naps,
with his soft furriness,
under my palm....
mottled through, ginger
and blue,
with an under-carriage,
supposedly white,
but more often muddy or dustily brown....
a co-conspirator of the highest degree....
would sit under the table
and eat pumpkin for me.
but not the beans....
they made him smell...
his tongue so long and pink,
his ears ***** and mobile, tail was docked,
but his *** it did wag,
with such a unique style.
he was my childhood,
but then,
he was gone...
off to chase rabbits up
on the farm...
good boy tiger....good boy
you where my protector
with you i came to no harm...
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 9:19 PM UTC
Forever you have been the opposite side
of the coin that is us.
Brazen with life and love and anger
where I am alight with the same,
though in different measured amounts.
We don't finish each other's sentences,
and there exists no reason why we should.
But we do share the same content in our
bold paragraphs, the same feed in our blood.
Blood.
Blood was never a choice, but friendship is,
and you are unique in that we share both.
You are a brother, a confidant, a partner in crime,
a friend, a conspirator, a business partner,
and so much more.
People remark about the nature of our bond,
and admittedly they get it wrong often,
but they remark frequently.
Too close to be normal,
too extraordinary to be labeled.
Follow where I lead and I will
follow your lead.
Such is our nature.
We seem two circling wolves.
We seem to vie for dominance.
How is it then that we are both and neither?
Who could I trust more with my secrets?
Who could I trust more with my life?
Who could I trust more with my lies?
So we circle.
So we vie.
So we live.
So we die.
Sep 15, 2011
Sep 15, 2011 at 3:23 AM UTC
B is for boy,
the neighbor I met at an age
too young to remember.
My best friend and co-conspirator.
Remember the time we tried to bury
your mom’s car
with sand from your sandbox?
Or when
we were chased by bees,
discovering your allergy?
B is for blue
Power Ranger at Halloween.
I was pink.
Then one day you moved.
When we met,
nearly twice as old as when you left,
I saw mischef in your eyes
and it was as if time never passed.
But so much had.
I was not the person I remember.
Neither were you.
But we picked up the pieces.
We moved beyond.
Jul 17, 2012
Jul 17, 2012 at 3:39 PM UTC
El reloj es tranquilo, metódico, incluso cuando corre mi mano fuera de control, empujando palabras que se escapan de la ***** de mis cinco dedos de lápiz.
El poema se levanta en el este y se pone en el oeste, los conspiradores están de acuerdo.
La carrera debe seguir este curso.
<•>
The clock is calm, methodical, even as it races my out-of-control hand, pushing words leaking from the lead within my five pencil fingers.
The poem rises in the East and sets in the West, the conspirators agree.
The race must follow this course.
12:34am
Aug 24, 2018
Aug 24, 2018 at 12:35 AM UTC
i am not who I think i am
but for a moment i was who i wish i could be
i was in class when it began
a clap of thunder and a bolt of lightning shook the sky
i walked out with my head held high
and smiled when the first droplets met my face
i laughed when a puddle soaked my shoes through and through
the feeling of clear, cold water settling on my ***** warm skin
i was by myself but i was not alone
the journey became my friend, my co-conspirator
i don’t know why i did it
but i hope that i never stop feeling it
May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 8:50 PM UTC
The best part of the school year was sitting behind Sarah. She wrote with the best handwriting, especially as my eyes copied her test. I would rove with my eyes, inconspicuously, at her paper. She was my conspirator with nice big round circles around the letters. It was a rush. It was like fishing up a river and all the fish jumping in the basket. For when she caught a king salmon, I caught one, too. In time I had a crush on her. Not because of fish and compassion. For she had such mystery behind those chocolates that melted my insides, and she was very tall like me. Plus she had heart, especially if I needed paper and pen, which was often. There were times she would watch me put my homework in my back pocket and hold a grin. I like that. Did I say she was cute? A few times we'd talk after class, and like a landed fish, I was biting on her hook. One day the rapids turned and I gathered all my pent up courage and asked her to the bunny hop. It would be fun, I pleaded. She looked back into my peering eyes, her lips a singing. Those black bears on the river standing watch, letting out a huge roar.
Logan Robertson
3/10/2019
Mar 10, 2019
Mar 10, 2019 at 5:36 PM UTC
You left me without remorse and hesitation.
I stayed in exhaustion in bedding of ice.
I see your ghostly outlines.
You are like polar ice cap in distant horizon.
I can not stand insulation.
I reached irreversible aspects of survival.
Little heat of my body has left.
My whole body embraces the numbness to the core of bones.
Dark hallicunations penetrate my mind.
You left me without remorse and hesitation.
Maybe unconsciousness will rescue me from pain.
My heart will stop functioning soon.
I wish I could do something to save myself.
I need anesthetic of your kisses,
your sweet morphine of saliva.
I barely close my eyes to sleep.
I tremble and search for answers
why you left me,
why God allows for loud cry,
why destiny walks dark paths.
Will mountain of ice in you crumble?
You left me without remorse and hesitation.
Nothing makes sense.
Haviness is growing inside of me.
I try to speak with flames of grief.
I try to play with them
but soon I will stop breathing.
Inaudible lullaby lulls me to sleep.
You are my attacker now, my conspirator.
Obviously you feel innocent and blame me
for sinfulness which I carry with me,
for lies that were not spoken.
You left me without remorse and hesitation.
I am waiting here in pain for your endorsement.
I vowed to be with you forever.
Promises fade away in the cold
from lack of heartbeat and breathing
as I now died here for you.
After this initial death may come
second and third death
until I wake up with you
staring into the ocean of your eyes
like a shore waiting for waves.
You left me without remorse and hesitation.
Without you all parts of my body screams in pain.
I am churned sea wishing calmness,
lost molasse on your journey through world,
underwater sounds not heared by anyone.
My thoughts are inquisitive for your words not said.
I am kneeling in beseeching prayers.
Maybe this will save us from disdain and sorrow.
My confusion is mixed with panic attacks
that I will never kiss your eyes again,
that love floated like frightened bird,
that world would die with my dreams.
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 1:34 PM UTC
as we lie sate,
in the sand.
postcoital
depression, begins.
this quickie, in
the sandhills, on
the beach.
well, while it
scratched the itch.
it left the soul,
bereft of connection.
we two just,
almost, known,
strangers,
made ***
lust,
the primary need
love,
a bystander,
at the freak show.
antipathy rises,
a dragon ravaging,
my soul.
as my co conspirator
stands, zips and staggers
away.
is the anger...
directed at him,
a rampant manniquin.
or myself,
an accepting needing
cavern.
darkness, wrapped
about in self doubt
i rise
and rearrange myself,
donning my disguise,
of carefree debutante.
i am the ultimate
partygirl.
i walk back to the
beat of the music.
leaving behind,
one more scrap,
of my dignity.
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 11:41 PM UTC
_/There is no fellow in the firmament._
but only fire can cast down raging blood,
running through the city, flagrant
smoke on a collonade of scepters, raised
— line by line: note the conspirator in the masses
_Doth not Brutus brotherless kneel?/_
traitorous hands, leaking red
_/Speak hands, for me!_
— from a dagger plunged deep through the heart of eruption it
spills chaotical, arterial, sinful
down and down ribbons of life
crown in rotation: halted
on tumbling tyrrant, passes guiltless largesse from hand sought to
hands yet seeking, searching
[whisperings]
"but on what grounds is usurpation justified?"/
"what cavity yet persists in the dawn of these reds rising?"
kneeling king, sodden with loss
bend for me —
_Et tu, Bruté?/_
screamitbloodymurdersingitholydivination
_Then fall, Caesar._
Mar 9, 2019
Mar 9, 2019 at 10:34 PM UTC
(an almost lipogram)
It is missing!
Just as a lost paramour
or a forlorn suitor of a now hollow past,
causing a lack of all glamour.
My lass’s familiar touch hiding
astray in murky clouds of a dulling rainbow,
my writing turns to a wan pallid world
as I scour my mind to supplant this loss.
Assailing yon dragon with quill in hand
I spurn my awaiting angst,
stalking as Orion’s own conspirator
disavowing all doubts of my own ability.
Sallying forth I do not tarry.
Words assault a wall of lofty doubts
born of naught but a foolish phobia.
Scaling mighty ramparts,
my anima’s flight attacks a radiant moon.
Until, with a final onslaught
my thoughts find laconic catharsis.
As twilight’s shroud is found approaching,
with a concluding flourish of a now
worn writing tool,
my lost lass of misty pasts...
returns.
© S.Loeding
All Rights Reserved
Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 5:25 PM UTC
She signs in the
Rain
So that I may see –
Drizzled words, despots and
Defiance, never defeat.
And
She cries in the
Rain
So that I may never see –
What could never be cured, be
Culled; our calamity.
And
I walk on in the
Rain
So that I may never learn how to –
Fix, never learn to forgive,
Most certainly, to forget.
And
It’s just that simple in the
Rain,
Sign, cry or walk –
We become disposable,
And like chalk on sidewalks,
We all wash away.
Oct 31, 2016
Oct 31, 2016 at 10:25 PM UTC
High on the gallows he stood his death near
the rope tight around his neck!
Reflecting on how he ended in this position
from a respected shop keeper.
To conspirator against his beloved country
his innocence no bargaining plea!
Within just a few seconds would live no more
conversations with customers.
Were overheard and misconstrued by some
as plotting against the crown.
Speaking his mind on the increasing unrest
mostly said only in jest.
Word soon got back to parliamentary forces
and action followed swiftly.
He and the few other so called conspirators
were dragged into court.
Tortured to confess to what they'd not done
freedom would not be won!
Humiliated and shunned by those once friends
his family had to escape.
Within those endless unbearable few weeks
each one anded up here.
With his last breath shouted out it was not true
trap door opened he dropped through!
Innocent or guilty to him it mattered no more!
The Foureyed Poet.
Aug 8, 2013
Aug 8, 2013 at 12:57 PM UTC
It means you are really next to something
You are near
The conspirators
in Julius Caesar had to be close
to sink in the knife
the old way of killing
It means, you are with another person
who you really like
who you trust
who you allow to be near
and share your vulnerable self: emotional, physical
because you trust
he would never
sink in a knife
But what happens
if that person you trusted
you lived with, you are close to
becomes a conspirator
and sinks in knife after knife
until you are a heap on the floor
crying out tears, not blood
time and again
ruthless, relentless
until you feel like just a blob of emotion
spreading out like a blood stain on the floor
It's the "unkindest cut of all"
from Brutus
except worse
because a man and wife
are even closer than Julius Caesar and Brutus
That fear in me
Will it ever end?
Will I ever want another man
to be close?
Jul 23, 2012
Jul 23, 2012 at 1:39 PM UTC