"hoodwinked" poems
I don’t remember when I lost my tenderness
And hardened into a thick shelled adult
No more innocent, no more gullible
Like a snake, I have peeled away my old self
It was easy enough, but having shed it
I realize no spring can bring it back!
There was a time when my imagination
Was so fiercely fuelled by fairy tales
How I used to visit the magic realms
Traversing the path from wonder to wonder!
On fancy’s feathered wings, I flew
Dwelling with fairies, demons and vampires
Roaming through the gilded hallways of magic castles
Peering into wishing wells
Wandering into enchanted forests
I searched under pillows for tooth fairies
Lay awake in bed to hear a tap on the door
With the ringing plea, falling in my ears
‘Open the door, my princess dear
Open the door to thy true lover here’
Wondering if a slimy frog has leaped over to my bed
Many hours were lost in fearful suspense
Pondering if the hoodwinked Red Riding Hood
Would escape the claws of death in the woods
With bated breath I followed the three Billy goats
On their way to the meadows beyond the bridge
Cursing the wicked troll that lived under it
Scrubbed old lamps hoping a genie would crop up
To bring things, my little heart cherished,
Looked up to see Aladdin on his magic carpet
Whizzing past the clouds,
Once I left my homework undone
Thinking those helpful elves would do it
While I snored away in the dead of the night
Now bereft of all such queer fancies
My brain has gone into lazy slumber
My world once checkered with colorful patterns
Now lies damp, dull and laden with strife!
Jul 3, 2017
Jul 3, 2017 at 9:31 AM UTC
It’s about the American dream
To make more than you need
Through corporate greed
And pyramid schemes,
So I guess I’m not asleep
Since I eat rice and beans
In a crummy C.F.
Apartment,
Or what’s left of that
Ten by ten compartment
I can barely afford,
Like the ******
Degree that was supposed
To reward my hard effort
By leading me toward
A corner office
Or something
Like that
I should desire,
But **** it,
Let’s get higher,
I’m getting bored,
And my heart is heavy,
And I’ve been
Forsaken
By the country that
Bred me
Yet expects me
To slap on some flak
And attack
Fathers and sons and brothers
In Iraq
Over nothing
But ideological
Fluff
And political stuffing,
It’s nothing
It’s nothing
It’s nothing
It’s just not worth
The time or frustration
To engage in
This nation’s
Procreation
Of condemnation
Of logical reason,
Though reasoning
Lies not in the
Eye of the reasoner
Or that of the reasoned,
It’s gotta be easier
Than achieving
Appeasement
Through please
And leasing
Thank yous
To random
Strangers,
But if
You believe
They, like you,
Are human
Then the danger
Is fleeting,
Cuz they’re feeling
The same feelings,
The sane feelings of
The chronically
Sure,
The always right,
Everything in its
Right place,
Yea I know Tommy,
I must endure
And try to say
I should try to save
The knaves,
But life’s so easy
As a slave,
You buy your
Goods
And pave the way
For impoverished hoods
And hoodwinked
Majorities
Who’ve already
Made
The sacrifices
Necessary
For the necessary
To get paid,
Hope you did some good
With that bogus bonus
Mr. Suit and tie
And perfect life
With the plastic wife
And bank account
You’ll never drain,
No matter how many
Times you make it rain
On upscale hookers,
It runs too deep
To keep all to your
Selfish selves,
But I guess it’s our
Faults we don’t wear
The leadership caps
Cuz we should’ve pulled
Ourselves up by our
******* boot straps
And made something of
Ourselves, right?
Those that deserve
To make the big bucks
Make it happen, right?
Time for the forgotten *****
to put up a fight.
Nov 24, 2011
Nov 24, 2011 at 12:26 PM UTC
I Am A Rainbow
I come and I go.
Where from where to?
Few know
You think you see me up in the sky
Touching the ground, from on high
In days of old, tales were told
They say at my feet,
Lay pots of gold
If you search, you'll not find any thing
The gold is illusory, just like me
Fondness for foibles, fiction and fable
You've been hoodwinked, I'm unstable
I look down below and what do I see?
People coming and going just like me
They think they're different; they don't know?
We are the same, we're all rainbows
We wear our art, iridescent garb
Like sound in a seashell
We're all special
Hello and goodbye my colorful friend
We will meet again, in the end.
Sean Hunt
Windermere May 2015
Dec 2, 2015
Dec 2, 2015 at 7:21 AM UTC
Should we perchance state
how curious it is
that no one has dared to think
'hold on a mo' my friends
let's see what happens
if we do nothing'
for they were told to press triggers
which they all readily did
that makes the oppositions buttons
which they all gladly began pressing
see its working their Master declared
they all readily agreed,
it was indeed working as nothing was
happening
what test was done to link the buttons
to nothing happening
how do we know we were responsible
to stopping anything happening by
these triggers
what's the measure of success here
was there a time something happened
when we did not trigger?
Should we perchance state
how curious it is
that no one has dared to think
'hold on a mo' my friends
let's see what happens
if we do nothing'
Far from me to say
methinks some people have been fooled
some may even say, blinded and hoodwinked
made up fake news triggers are not effective
said computing triggers are diversions to truth
for it gives answers to questions never asked
but yet none has worked this out
none has seen the ruse
why not test things
and say, no triggering any buttons
let just sit and watch and see what happens
but none dared think this or says so
because this is the emperor's computer
and we see what we see
and believe whatever we want to believe
Should we perchance state
how curious it is
that no one has dared to think
'hold on a mo' my friends
let's see what happens
if we do nothing'
Apr 26, 2019
Apr 26, 2019 at 5:41 AM UTC
They fought like crackers
for the coveted prize
from the green bud banter
to the Sunday guise
whipped in a frenzy
by the Callaway score
torn asunder
at the elfin door
The hoodwinked watchman
holding council at post
stung by the folly
of the second floor host
a wild card shuffle
from numskulls and fools
high on their trade
and obstinate rules
Trenchant voices
remarkable cures
Billy’s brigade
and gob smacking boors
wreaking havoc
(in a flatulent way!)
staunch and bitter
and riled foul play
Scissor tailed catcher
and one eyed crow
trolls and packers
unfortunate woes
Lloyd’s forgiveness
and scowls at the chart
***** of fury
from a shot gun start
Gadfly’s and gripers
are unorthodox
the nineteenth hole
for **** in a box
tribunals and judges
a cold reverie
another fine year of the M.O.D.
Feb 8, 2017
Feb 8, 2017 at 11:15 PM UTC
A Man will ask himself:
Is the glass taken of half
Or given of it?
We hear this tale
Unworn and aged
(Like a fine wine
Save a rich cheese
Always a decadence
An adornment so sweet.
Fruits that our mother
Blesses us with)
and look into the crystal
Search for grace
We think comes from
Wonders of the light.
But man’s feeble mind
Is so beguiled
(Hoodwinked into
Vizard
By the lures
Of such a beautiful thing
As crystal.)
And rapt with greed.
So much brawn
Is put to
Pondering the
Substance
Of the vessel
(such thought
That manifests itself
In a disease
More blood ridden
Than a
Plague)
in materialism
(the silent
Murderer
That infects the
Mind of a
worldly soul)
and has no cure
To emerge from
A field of
Medical travesty.
When all has
Passed
And man answers
for his sins,
One will in the end
Discover
the question
That never works it’s way
To the lips
(If not even
Figments of thought
In words)
What have you to say
About the fill
Of a glass
When it has
Shattered
Upon the floor?
Jan 14, 2012
Jan 14, 2012 at 12:30 AM UTC
bachelorhoodwinked
by michael r. burch
u
are
charming
& disarming,
but mostly ALARMING
since all my resolve
dissolved!
u
are
chic
as a sheikh's
harem girl in the sheets
but my castle’s no longer my own
and my kingdom is overthrown!
Originally published by Brief Poems. Keywords/Tags: bachelorhood, bachelor, engagement, marriage, resolve, dissolved, hoodwinked, helpless, vulnerable, smitten, bewitched, charm, charmed, spellbound, love potion
Apr 1, 2020
Apr 1, 2020 at 8:45 PM UTC
'LOVE IS BLIND'?
'Love is blind'?
what nonsense!
then how come we have
'love at first sight'?
Shakespeare in one sentence
had hoodwinked us since 1616
true, he wrote great drama and poetry
but we must note
he didn't study medicine
nor opthalmology
and mind you
we are living in the 21st century
with all the science and technology
surely it would be the greatest folly
to just quote the bard's cliche blindly
the eyes have it
ask the ophthalmologist
without the eyes
the lover would not see
beauty
and as a corollary
how could you love somebody
if in the first instance
you were blind id est--you couldn't see!
careful, so careful we must all be
to differentiate between reality
and the ranting of silly poetry
if this myth were to perpetuate nilly-willy
mankind would look really silly
that would look good not even to the slightest degree
and one more thing
please bear with me
and this is the bard's secret history
he had chancre--venereal ulcer
for which he received treatment
could he have written 'Love is blind'
being affected by that odious malady?
London's brothels he did visit frequently
when he was away from Stratford-upon-Avon
he drank a lot too--there is ample evidence
he also had anasarca (oh mercy!)
result of mercury-related membranous nephropathy
( we shall not defile him further-
but his alopecia was due to treatment of mercury
for his syphilis---what a medical litany!)
in conclusion
we could somehow see
that England's greatest writer
was not as bright as he had been taken to be.
Sep 28, 2015
Sep 28, 2015 at 10:25 PM UTC
Deceit is
Woke made clickbait.
A punchline void of pugilism.
Manufactured.
Puffed.
& vision ill-corrected.
Poisoned.
Children so woke now;
Diaspora are sleepwalking,
Suffering Sleeplessness;
An insipid insomnia;
Waking others to death.
Eyes wide-open (fili-fili)
Hoodwinked in a depth of light;
Dark angel glory.
Bane.
Mediocre.
Hidden.
Malignant mult-I-media.
Woke?
© Qwey.ku
30th November MMXXI
አሁን በኢትዮጵያ አቆጣጠር
26 Kislev 5782
Nov 30, 2021
Nov 30, 2021 at 1:16 AM UTC
I went to a funeral and lied
I went to a funeral and lied
In junk and drink, no grief,
Just cowardice and pride.
Fear of losing you by my side
Losing you to the other side.
Fear that shook with the gloved murderer's hide
I went to my funeral and shied
I didn't want to sleep or hide
I just held your bloodless, jaundiced face
I couldn't help but feel a fake
As two sets of opache eyes
Did not pass a tear and cry.
Just the shivering hands that stopped your last sighs
I went to a funeral and lied
I drank and stood in black and could not cry,
I strung words and made some ineloquent speech
Loved and held but held love out of reach
Spoke in riddles, played hide and seek
With a congregation of perjured freaks.
I laughed at their blindness where my guilt sits.
Last night in our death bed where I slept
Dry-eyed like your cataract eyes
Dumb mouth fish gape
In the old flat, my eyes, dry, dry eyes.
I didn't hear the trains last night
I couldn't hear grief's knock at all
There was no knock,
There was no wake or ball, just
Your bloodless gape and jaundice face
Shining yellow plumbed and spent
****** leech-mouthed, dumb,
Your cataract eyes,
Under clumsy-ashed mascara lids
A shy pass in some gothic flick
A tetany spasm, no shock or awe.
You looked up at me and saw nothing at all.
I share some dead shark surprise;
Opache, tearless rolled-up eyes
And I lay gibbering at your side
And laughed and hated your passion and cries
King over requiem and bride
Healer, dealer, hood and pride
Addicting storm and flushed aside.
I scraped blood off your chessboard marble floors
Wiped the evidence from cold-polished claws
I burned effigies of pagan-hates
Hoodwinked the sentimental double agent spooks
And threw scent off my mistress as a ******* clown.
This morning I went to a funeral and lied
I could not spill one tear from these witness eyes
That watched the hands suffocate your traumatic sighs
I went to a funeral and lied
Conducted proceedings with the murdering hands’ whys
I wanted the last of you, my bride.
Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 6:17 AM UTC
When for the Muse shall I wrangle those Songs
And carry them Gently to your Heart's place
First my Errors make Pure; Then Right my Wrongs
To listen, dear Talent of Promising Grace
If such my Words be too Quipped for your Pick
Since I, abandoned the Once-Supporting Friend
Shall I bite Sincere; Then hear your Voice unique
By Faith my Cloudy Attitude amend
Then crank this Ampled Recorder to Like
Which by Prayers fast weave a Chuffled Tune
To capture those Drums; From Snails such Elves devise
And summon the Crowd to revere you soon.
That is my Wish; Though Hoodwinked I become
Blow Notes for your Pen; Such Pen your Gift's Sum.
Jun 26, 2013
Jun 26, 2013 at 3:07 AM UTC
**The author of my favorite book would’ve never said ‘favorite’
He does talk about sacrifice and really deep things
And that word can’t explain any of it.
He says we always choose what we can’t have and cry over it
But now all that just sounds like a pop song about a pretty girl
With flaxen hair and long –long legs figuring out her way
I wish my tale was more cinematic, but it is dry as hell.
Today is no better than yesterday
Just a different shade of sickly blue
I deliberately keep avoiding the context of love
Because it’s so basal and we’ve refined tastes
Or so I think
I know little boys don’t think that much and
Little girls are told good girls don’t play with fire
Wretched, needy begging bowl of a soul
Invested too much on a gambler’s lucky streak
Now I’ve woken up to an endless sabbatical from relevance
I hold on to a smile
One that remains long after it’s gone
Like the sudden flicker of street lights in a rainy day
Doesn’t make a big deal about itself
And eyes that don’t melt concrete or anything but
Eyes that could make a cold-blooded killer cry
And they hoodwinked me
Perhaps we’re naked in heaven
To make up for all the deception in our lifetime.**
Mar 12, 2015
Mar 12, 2015 at 12:33 AM UTC
This is another year
without upheaval
another disregard
for the common good
I asked the cards
how will today
effect the world?
One deck said
Your Hierophant
will be upside
down and your
five of cups
hooded
the lady hoodwinked
will cross her swords
and the other yelled
the world affects today
by the ways of the lovers
juggling two coins
watching the world go by
Not this year my gorillas
the monkeys still rule
Not this day young write
your way is your will
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 2:04 PM UTC
The Girl with the Auburn Hair!
Once was a young sweet woman.
With long and flowing auburn hair.
Time passed with no dignity.
Cracks and crevasses appeared.
A face of furrows, where ages burrowed.
Where once did kindness dwell.
Bitter and twisted and hurting like hell.
She's nobody's fool.
No longer loves puppet.
This once sweet young woman she stood.
And she laughed.
Curled up in fits.
At the fool on the hill.
A disparaging manner in loves lost disgust.
So obviously vanished.
When once his friendship.
Wholly did trust.
Now all that remains.
Only tears of dust.
Not mad just disillusioned.
Love hoodwinked her heart.
Keeps her safe.
Just for using, abusing and musing with fire.
Tossed away without a care.
The beautiful heart.
With auburn hair!
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Nov 16, 2013
Nov 16, 2013 at 5:05 AM UTC
As I lay on my bed
My favorite pen in my hand
Trying to convince myself
To write something creative
But my brain can't function
And just think on command
I blink, and blink, and blink
Staring at the paper blankly
Feeling like I've been hoodwinked
By a silhouette in a hood
All you see is two blaring eyes
As one half of them winks
Mind racing in slow motion
Thinking you can think something
But the ink isn't working
Brainwaves are failing to flow
To the tips of your fingers
Sparking the touch of talent
Trying to tap the wires
That trigger inner feelings
And fuel the fire to write
Stick a knife in a socket
You still wouldn't get the shock
To ignite your light to write
All you want to do is write
Begging and pleading your pen
To scribble with all it's might
You want to feel productive
And conceive a worthy product
Yet you can't seem to produce
It's the worst feeling ever
Because you just want to write.
Aug 26, 2013
Aug 26, 2013 at 6:38 PM UTC
She had fooled them all again;
Hoodwinked them into thinking
She'd be safe outside the locked
Ward; and taking Bronston's cut
Throat razor (he thought he hid
It well) she slit her wrists till
Fountains poured red across her
Clothes and all around; and there
Was that buzzing sound; that voice
Screaming loud inside her head:
I'm free again, free from pain,
Echoing through her freaked out
Brain, slithering along her
Jagged veins, her eyes gazing
At the coming storm of white
And blues; the nurses cursing;
The docs crestfallen over
Their soiled angel, splattering
The room with her crimson rush,
Without care or word or God
****** curse or a shameful blush.
Mar 14, 2012
Mar 14, 2012 at 3:13 AM UTC
We're taking chances
Every single time
Put our hearts on the line
Then you go and broke everything we made
But, I loved you anyway
Please stop wasting time
I'm grieving over my heart
Cause you took all
The sunlight in my life, the very air that I breathe, and the stars
Just when I thought we're reaching somewhere
Like a smoke you're gone
Chasing shadows along with your heart
You pin me down and blame me
Cause you found no one else to blame
You have broken every single word
Yet, I loved you anyway
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 5:24 AM UTC
silence is a balloon in my hand. an erratic saxophone with notes as blue as doves
strangled in noxious space.
android Jesus, not quite the shadow, verily the toppled light
renaming things underneath its parasol – hundredfold of monikers
and a solitary weight of love.
this is where the blood starts to make sense in its cold shrill:
a dagger making its way towards my back. here are few routines of ablution;
a conflagration of bodies. razed sandalwood. first to go is gravity. last are the bodies
helium-gorged, afloat – there is an immense price for solace.
cyclic spectral cyclic spectral
there’s man in ox but never an ox in a man. can you feel the tenacious drone
of the oncoming storm? can you feel the Sun so sick of its diurnal labor?
can you feel the tantric *** of dew? its sensorial fissures?
butchered serrations of grass are like torrid piles of moist ***** ready for ******
again, here comes the quietus. on the loathsome table lies the shrapnel
of last night’s carnal invitation. a moth not named Marieta circumnavigates a bayonet
of elastic fire. here comes the marauder of quiet again,
in my hand, a round, red, silent balloon – I let it go, in such relentlessly hoodwinked
pursuit towards a god that may or may not know how
to dance underneath the bludgeoned beat.
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 8:02 AM UTC
I have been swindled!
They took my bags at check-in but never gave me a room key
Now I'm back home mailing packages to myself
And writing a negative review of that place to put a blemish on their record
Back to headquarters
This it your last chance
I will not allow myself to get hoodwinked on this deal
This is an open letter
Dear Ocean Foam Resort,
When I stayed at your place of rest and relaxation the first time it wasn't that bad. I mean, the neighbors we're louder than anything. And the people above me aired out their ***** laundry on the balcony every morning while i was trying to drink my coffee. I recall hearing the wife confessing that she was cheating on her husband with a co-worker to her mother over the phone. I can also recount two God awful parents I saw by the pool, they let their children scream and run around disturbing the other guests. Actually they let the run around so much and I guess never fed them, because one of them got light headed and passed out into the deep end of the pool. One of your staff members had to save her because the parents we're bust sun bathing. Then there was the man below me, he wasn't a bad person. Far from it but he had to be the most unfortunately hideous people I've ever seen. He had skin tags on his eye lids, warts on his neck, boils on his legs and arms. Then there was the constant disturbances coming from the late teen- early twenty-something year old guests. They were on what seemed like a two week drinking binge. Blasting music all night, having too many people come to their room and having all night long ****** The head pounding music, the worrisome benders and the moaning that went on until the early morning was too much for me. I'm saying this as a guest who has been to your resort for the past seventeen years every year, the first chance you get tear down your place of business because it has become a rat hole where no one should go or ever be near. Now you've stolen my luggage and refused to give it back to me and you have refused to let me stay in your resort. But I'm happy about that after rethinking it, keep the luggage and go **** yourself. So, Ocean Foam Resort enjoy falling apart and going out of business.
Sincerely,
Ron Dempsacot
Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 11:26 AM UTC
What man has made of man,
Is the weeping snow reviling its pompous cry,
What man has made of man,
Is the unwanted dandelion left for wishes to die.
You see now, what man has made of man
Is not what God wanted,
For our souls have absconded,
To be forever daunted.
Silly you not rectified!
Those rose colored glasses won't last forever,
As for us who access our beautiful, hoodwinked temptation,
We stay fated to see salvation never.
In this case of reality on the precipice,
The money in your hand weighs nothing.
For you'd think what man has made of man,
Should be worth something.
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 9:40 PM UTC
*If an impeccable ally is false or the implacable ingrate
Resolved to ruin or rule our combined fate
Or to encompass us with the blood oath bonds they've taken
The pillars of our safety shall forever be shaken,
A jilted child removed from a foreigner awakened.
Then seized with fear, yet affecting fame,
Usurped by an intruder’s unatoned name.
So easy still it proves in falsely factious times
With public zeal to cancel their most private of crimes.
How safe is treason and how sacred it’s ill,
Where not even a child is safe to be free at will.
Where evil marchers are all hoodwinked and their offences not be known,
Since in each other’s guilt - they confuse and hide their own.
Yet their fame is undeserved, for I am their enemy with a giant grudge
Once a child that they abhorred, but praise be – I am now their judge.
In my court they sit for me to annihilate their scheme
With my discerning eyes, with these hands that are bloodlessly clean.
Unbribed, unsought, these wretches I redress -
Swift to dispatch them to ease the victim’s distress.
Oh, some call me a heartless hanging judge,
As I dispense my medicine on this vile blood thirsty sludge.
But had I the ownership of these evil souls freed
I’d hang these oppressors twice hoping to redeem their evil seed.
A hanging judge I’m truly not, I’m just a historian in love
Setting heaven straight for the one I serve, the true guardian above.*
Apr 24, 2018
Apr 24, 2018 at 2:07 PM UTC
Three years ago, I first came out about what you did to me
You twisted my reality into knots too tight for me to undo
Two months ago, I began to remember more
Like my life was pulling a string,
Drawing my memories out of me
Because repression can only prove effective for you so long
You see, repression can only hide things until they come up
Books, movies, media
You see, repression can only hide things until you experience a similar circumstance once more
When I said no and he kept prying
You see, repression can only hide things until it can't
Until I can't hold back everything in my being
Because I want to cut my tongue out of my own mouth
As my voice begins to fail
As I realize there are men in this world who will not listen to me
As I was so confident and outspoken at one time
And now my meekness is the only suitable way for me to find a husband
I am only eighteen, and yet my voice trails off at the end of sentences
You finished them for me long ago
But my teenage years were considered a grace period
Society now tells me as I enter adulthood
It is my duty to be prim and proper
I am only as worthy as I am pretty and sweet
Because ladies are suppose to talk with the gentleness of flowers
The goodness of a saint
And the purity of the church steeple.
I have already killed those flowers
Hoodwinked the saint
And burnt the church down!
I will raise my fist and scream **** you!" to the world because it tells me I cannot
You make have spoken for me before
But I am taking my voice back
In a world that has every intention of keeping me silent.
Sep 4, 2015
Sep 4, 2015 at 1:24 AM UTC
darkness settles around me,
mind enshrouded by wicked
voices; repeating the same
phrase over and over again,
you should have never let him
love you...you should have
never let him love you
heartbroken...
in the dark that surrounds
a heart beating for him,
hoodwinked by lies, even as
he laid by my side; loving
me pretensely in the dark
professed his love would
never die; but, yet, I'm
left alone in the dark crying,
those broken promises, now
in shadow; casting silhouettes
of you and I in the back of my
mind against a barren wall
and...
sleep derail efforts to forget;
fore, dreams loom in dark
crevices of my heart as I'm
left alone to wither in the dark.
Jan 11, 2013
Jan 11, 2013 at 2:38 PM UTC
You promised us you’d make the country great again
And that you would build a Mexican wall.
You said you’d make America bigly wonderful
And that you were the smartest of them all.
You said you’d keep the immigrants from coming
To take away our jobs and ruin our land.
You finally came around to getting rid of gays
Now that they are getting out of hand.
Scamboozled, that’s what we got.
We’re hoodwinked. By all the things you’re not.
Plum snookered by all your fancy words.
We’re still waiting for what we heard.
You said you’d fix the country with your knowledge
Of how business should be conducted.
So how come we are starting to feel
Like Russians came here and we’ve been abducted?
You promised you’d put the best minds to work
But you hired a bunch of babbling stupid clowns.
Watching your soap opera presidency
Has really begun to get a lot of us down.
Scamboozled, that’s what we got.
We’re hoodwinked. By all the things you’re not.
Plum snookered by all your fancy words.
We’re still waiting for what we heard.
You said you’d never take any vacations yourself
And be like that black guy you hate
But you have taken forty seven golfing weekends
And plan a two week vacation to date.
When you first got your self elected to the job
It looked like a new era was in reach.
Now I think I’ll join with the majority
And see if we can’t all get you impeached.
Scamboozled, that’s what we got.
We’re hoodwinked. By all the things you’re not.
Plum snookered by all your fancy words.
We’re still waiting for what we heard.
Aug 6, 2017
Aug 6, 2017 at 2:22 PM UTC
Enthusiasm at the sound of your voice
Eagerness at the sight of your face
Fire at the touch of your hands
To good to be true
Altered Ego
Awkward sittings
Partial happiness
Hostility placed where it should be
Deceived by alluring intentions
Hoodwinked by beautiful words
Clarity at last
Now dispassionate
Aug 31, 2015
Aug 31, 2015 at 6:20 PM UTC