"grifter" poems
My morals are a patchwork
Stitched together from various other minds
A well worn quilt I wrap myself in for security
For blameless justification of a deformed belief system
Twisted and gnarled with an arthritis of the spirit
A hollow vessel made into a crock ***
Full of someone else's ********
Stirred by resentment
Stewed in fear and
Served with anger
To mask my ignorance and indifference
I have a reputation for trivialities
Snippets of soundbites
Subliminally soldered
Onto my sub-conscious
Where they acquire the character
Of authoritative wisdom
More pious than a prophet!
Holier than an ancient sage!
I am a 21st century shaman
A guru grifter
Embryonic episodes
Aborted for mass consumption
Over cocktails and hor dourves
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 7:13 PM UTC
What are we search for?
Up sleeve cigarettes and better living through chemistry.
Looking at the stars, inaction we fall for the grifter's pitch
Didn't you hear? The search is over
A man in white found the stone
The elixir
Promising perfection the politician pours pompous profanities while princes pause for prudence and the purser pushes prophetic pleas of profit. Pure precedent presented fresh to the world.
And we cry "what say do we have in these matters?"
I will cry no more
No more will I feel helpless
For I have all the power in my world
If the heavens would rain fire
I shall command the seas to rise
I will stretch out my limbs
roots growing deep, deep down into the raw earth
And when the star appears in the heavens
Reach to chant its praise.
Nov 27, 2012
Nov 27, 2012 at 8:57 PM UTC
Looks like we're headed for mean season
I gave you rhyme when you needed reason
And it's a shame our ways have shifted
Passive clown, unknown grifter
Burning bridges ain't as fun as it looks
Head of bricks and a heart that cooks
Spin the top, board the pirate ship
Lobotomy's botched and so are my lips
He said, "You're riding for a terrible fall"
But stone cold statues always stand tall
How many roads till you find the right path
Everybody dies, do the math
Looks like we're headed for strange reasons
To a place that never has seasons
And it's a shame our heads have shifted
Mature clown, widowed mistress
Nov 25, 2011
Nov 25, 2011 at 6:37 PM UTC
we lived in the same house once-
he showed me how to break into my own room-
that's why i think he stole sixty bucks off me-
i guess it was a pre-installment-
a payment for a time somewhere down the line-
he swallowed his pride in order to swallow food that day-
yet he lied about his name-
i knew it-
i call him "the grifter"-
spring night crept in-
i hung out with him for most of the day-
i did not want to show him my sleeping spot-
i tried to make a break for it-
he followed-
in the end-
it was him that shared a sleeping spot-
we snaked ourselves into the transport-
quiet cozy i may say-
warm also-
i dreamed that he stole my last five bucks-
it was just a dream-
i don't think i have seen or talked to him since-
maybe i just walked the other way-
Sep 16, 2010
Sep 16, 2010 at 11:14 AM UTC
who broke you?
a lover,
a stranger,
a drifter,
a grifter,
a bolt
of lightning?
now,
get back up,
brush it off
fix yourself
and walk.
Aug 1, 2016
Aug 1, 2016 at 8:24 PM UTC
Time and circumstance exposed their twisted bodies,
Not caring to ask if I were ready.
I didn’t ask to empathize or recognize a feeling,
That may be leaving as soon as I taste it.
I didn’t ask to be something the wind could have it’s way with,
Someone that hangs on a word and can be debilitated by a look.
I remember welcoming the ground, in search of pennies on the sidewalk.
The way my granny taught me to.
If I had a care, I didn’t feel it there or where it ought be.
All of my concern was in getting back home,
because my feet grew tired,
and my eyes weary of the sandstone;
I wasn’t ready to not stare at the ground.
Somewhere on the dismembered pavement,
I grew up,
looked up,
to see someone locking eyes on the same track,
something was felt and I cannot give it back.
I wish I could.
This feeling,
that I surely did not inherit,
is not interested in my betterment.
I want to be a grifter.
jingle my cup,
make a quick buck,
and say good luck to any fool who dare give me that stare,
that screams for me to give it back.
Because I won’t.
After the last one who dared,
I can’t say I want to be paired,
Impaired,
lost in a circular pool of equivocations and ambiguity.
Forward not backward,
Trusting that I can trust trust.
Or I can trust the sidewalk,
since it will not cease to be,
like you or her or him or me.
I much rather look for pennies,
knowing they won’t look back.
Jul 22, 2010
Jul 22, 2010 at 3:20 PM UTC
****** rednecks and tabloid editors,
Choosing a big-mouthed wussy,
Voted into office a ****** predator who
Brags he grabs women by the *****
He goes on and on about himself
Blows that he is highly educated
He only tells lies, braggadocio, or
Unpresidential rot that is R-rated.
He boasted he could shoot
Someone dead in the street
Even that ugly deed would
Not cause his defeat.
It turned out to be
Unfortunately true!
That’s the kind of thing
Ignoramuses will do:
They vote some dingaling
No matter how disgusting
And decide this grifter
Is definitely worth trusting.
He's just bright enough to see
That suckers love a good show
So he’ll dance and sing to them
For three and a half years or so.
He said he keeps the best
People to back up his boasts,
And when he chooses one
His accomplices all toast.
It won’t be very long until
As his TV show has inspired,
He’ll open that ugly mouth
And snarl out “You’re fired!”
He knows he can keep on
In his lucrative term of office
If he just keeps the rich happy, and
Fools who can’t see he’s bogus.
He’s busily going about
Taking the rights of the poor
And wadding all of them up
Then kicking them out the door.
The only people he wants to succeed
Are him and those ass-kissers
Who hang with him out of greed.
He's just bright enough to see
That suckers love a good show
So he’ll dance and sing to them
For three and a half years or so.
Aug 24, 2017
Aug 24, 2017 at 8:57 PM UTC
Here you are
*******
water ways
you reached the gate
but broken strings
and boken wings
left no coins upon your eyes.
Oh I'm sure you're not
to blame.
I'm sure you'll say
you're not to blame.
Can holes break
like hearts
or are you just
the waves
swerving
moving
claiming mysteries of
the moon
but predictable
in patterns
with fits
not far apart;
your spill fills
holes
but do they break
like hearts?
Or are you here
to pull him down
sailors sail but
sailors also drown.
You feel so low
so you pull them down.
No rest for the wicked, so
no rest for the rest
I know you say
you tried your best
But even the river
moves on
in the end.
Sucker hole
stuck at the gate.
Now unpaid
blank eyes
always.
The cost of the world you alienate
is now you're gone;
just wakes of hate.
no one cares to pay
your toll.
No rest for the wicked, so
no rest for the rest
I know you say
you tried your best
But even the river
moves on
in the end.
Even the river moves
on.
Jan 8, 2020
Jan 8, 2020 at 2:21 AM UTC
Why would I do this
What was in my head
My charmed life of bliss
Perhaps irreparably dead?
Yes I'm a fighter
A grifter of old,
I deserve a fate brighter
But on this I've been rolled.
Politics such a foul game
They claim I'm the one crooked,
But these hacks put me to shame
With actions deceitful and wicked.
Still you know what they say
When you're in the arena riding that bull,
Hold on tight and don't sway
The harder it bucks the stronger you pull.
Melania's not happy,
The kids out of sight,
While I may sometimes get snappy
It’s when I’m alone in the dead of the night.
Truth socials' my outlet
Where I vent and I rage
An invaluable asset
With my fans to engage.
For despite all my troubles
I'm still leading the pack
Supporting my struggles
They all have my back.
Biden is scheming
When the guy remembers at all,
In most polls I am far leading
Now he's praying I'll fall.
The media is gloating
With me as their lead,
In money they're floating
When Trump is their creed.
So maybe it's worth it
This journey of pain,
The path to outwit
And put these connivers to shame.
With me as your President
The US will be great
My abilities so undeniably evident
I’m clearly your best Head of State.
Jul 19, 2023
Jul 19, 2023 at 12:08 PM UTC
Heaven was 1977.
See how the Vauxhall Viva rusts aside shooting rhubarb,
How the shed tumbles in golden creosote,
A gate latches with a clunk and there I stand on pebbledash shed tile,
Pushing red Raleigh Grifter to shed with the family rides.
A cat slinks towards a Whiskas tin a rattling under winding can opener and I am back in 1977.
Heaven was 1977.
Vicky Kingsford was by my side.
Sun played on my home and I was in heaven.
Sep 21, 2019
Sep 21, 2019 at 7:08 AM UTC
SLOW HOBO
Many memories come or go fleeting thought of once moving fast
Living in the present not always a gift, beige or bland nowhere to make a stand
Take another piece of me, got locked in lost soul never again to be free, once saw everything with open eyes unfolded maps world so vast
Prefer to roam without a home, unsaddled no bit or bridle always on idle, time was a scam never wore a watch upon my hand
Completing hitch hikers guide a source of pride, thumb out or cheap greyhound ride, memories fade left to rely on what was photographed
Always wondering where a river went or raindrops are sent, wayward youth a highway sleuth Unlimited vision with no mission, wandering soul enclosed white pickets complete that demand
Inner strife from hiding vagabond feelings wanting to get lost again in past misdealing's Length of Layovers timed by hangovers, now life outside bottles or baggies a more realistic blast
Born in the parking lot so always been on the out, Set to roam with a spin of the globe, coast to coast beach to beach now stuck behind a hidden line in the sand
Vagabond looking out across new land, unsettled not ready to make a stand,Leaning on an edge split inside with a wedge, held back by new wisdom of my past
Designated drifter part time grifter forgetting to nurture a future, realizing wisdom can come slower, much to gain with pain, internal freedom not always planned
Dreams from a past trickle out carrying much clout, what weight so great it was to slow the hobo, settled in with a new grin becoming my own life's greatest enthusiast R.C.
Nov 1, 2021
Nov 1, 2021 at 7:51 AM UTC
incestuous blankets
cover thy body
somebody is here
when you are long forgotten
brand-name sovereignty
shoddy craftsmanship
candy covered copies
of loose apostrophes
dangling from false pretenses
the portable economy
is a grifter's game
of refrain and manageability
i am magnanimous like a spark
captured in dark rooms
and in your binary libraries
like tiny memories
always fading on an ark
Jan 26, 2021
Jan 26, 2021 at 3:02 PM UTC