"outwitted" poems
open the door
a man stands there with a smile
the package he passes
is not on my Christmas list
that doorway sure is no chimney.
shaking, frightened, it's finally time
alone, i unfasten the bag,
as if it's the first brithday
that my grandma is no longer with us.
this was the most expensive present
i have ever received
although the grantor is no ******* Santa Claus
&
that instant i recognize
my existence
lies in these jars.
i outwitted mother nature
if i begin consumption
i live
if not well.....How Will It End?
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 9:00 PM UTC
a coffee shop
a normal saturday morning
i wait at the speckled counter
and count the deformed donuts with sickened reassignment
a little girl is sitting at a diner table to my left
she stares at me with awe and darts up
handing me a picture she looks right at me with glee
“oh wow did you make this?” i ask
in the way an adult talks to a child
she nods and i say “this is great
do you draw a lot?”
she shakes her head no
“well you should” i say
and she, laughs and says
“no, i don’t need to do it more.
it doesn’t matter
i do it when i want to
i just like to”
i think of the way the little inflections upon her talk
mirror in my mind the voice of camus
you are not just what you do
you are more than the opportunities in your environment
absurdity arises in the aperture between you and the world
the world is real but the choices it allows
how can you exist when they close around you
from all sides, like a test from hell—i mean school
we have to choose a b c d
it doesn’t give a human space to breath—i mean, be
what i’m saying is
i’ve been washed up into the land
you go to when the fairies die
i’ve learned to lie with a very straight face
i’ve been had by the dollar bill
and in some twisted way
i only work for the prize these days
and still i’m willing to admit
a child outwitted me
and i’d rather it be that way
because sometimes i need to be put in my place
while rational and logical and adult
i have been living without being
and she
has tripped the strings
attached to the knots in my fingers
and my throat
this poem, i owe it to her
Aug 26, 2012
Aug 26, 2012 at 4:23 PM UTC
There was once a fox, a fox whose name had gone unknown, but nevertheless was in truth all on its own.
With a pelt of fire and auburn, and eyes deep and serious, it was no doubt why so many considered the fox "mysterious".
Yet, this tale is different, and I will tell you why, this fox was not like the rest, he sought to be like the wolves- twas' no lie.
He envied their beauty, their ability and strength, in fact his admiration went on to a fractured great length.
He would try to howl and change his stature- hell even his look, it was a matter of great indifference, but try as he might- no matter how long it took.
In time, after so much effort he took to the wolf, they welcomed him and never knew his story, pride and arrogance he was engulfed.
He followed and lived as one for the while he was deceived, but after all the time had past, disgust and mockery from all other animals was what he received.
It was only when the wolves outwitted him and made him a fool, that they chased him and slandered him, oh, the treatment had been cruel.
Now the fox understood why animals each held their own class and identity, when he realized then why he was meant to be.
A fox he was and would always stay, to the start of his life to the finish of his decay. Yet, he was reminded of why foxes were special, it was because they were no one else; it was stupid to compare, whether it be lion or mouse. He saw beauty in an idol of its own, he became so mesmerized and driven, that even his heart he disowned. He saw no beauty in himself, when really all others did, that now his respect and dignity was so pitifully dead.
Though he admired the wolves and tried to seek them without end, let it be known fame and popularity is a horrid trend. So there are others greater and have more to do, but have you ever considered they may wish to be you?
Like the fox who wanted to be a wolf, but in time fell too much in greed, be careful of the lies you choose to follow and take heed! Because not every beautiful face is as kind and free, be happy you are You and can declare "I am me."
❥
Aug 30, 2015
Aug 30, 2015 at 11:11 PM UTC
The Swedish Tax Authorities
were sure they had their man.
He owed a lot of kroner
They saw through his crooked plan.
When he got out of intensive care
He wouldn't get too far.
No one escapes the tax man.
Like death, their grip is sure.
The suspect's heart was failing
and no replacement could be found.
It was either a jarvik Seven
or he was destined for the ground.
Doctor's worked for hours
His life was in their hands.
He had the cash to pay them
about one hundred grand.
An artificial heart was placed
in his chest cavity
to replace his own
which had been starved
of the oxygen hearts need.
The tax man thought to nab their prey
as soon as he came around.
His attorney said " Unhand him,
a loop hole I have found!"
"Per Swedish law a man is dead
when his heart has ceased to beat.
You are barred from prosecuting
a man who is deceased."
While the Tax men sorted out
this novel defensive line
The man fled to a haven
where he enjoyed the fruits of crime.
He dined out on the novel tale
of how he and only he
outwitted death and taxes
and obtained immunity.
Dec 2, 2011
Dec 2, 2011 at 11:36 PM UTC
It is said, to overcome and conquer and enemy,
You have to know him better than you know yourself.
This enemy I know well.
He plays on me to my strength,
but I will not be drawn in,
enticed by,
or seduced in this intellectual exchange,
a battle of the soul’s wit.
He encamps around about me
picking at the scabs of my many afflictions
until they bleed out my many transgressions and memories displaced.
He knows my innermost secrets.
He hides in the shadows of my fallacies articulating my intentions,
plotting on my next move.
He strikes with malice in his right hand,
and with fear and intimidation in his left
releasing the venom of self deception,
paralysis to my self, esteemed.
He knows me well; falling back into the abyss
of my many false realities created by my conscious,
he
knows
me.
In the end I count my losses, bludgeoned by defeat, but
his miscalculations has not seen the prophecies foretold as
I have sewn seeds of new life in the fields of my emptiness.
This is a warring encounter unrelenting,
fighting me to my end.
Although outwitted by my ingenuity,
He attempts to still chain, restrain and defame my life to be,
but I will not give in.
I know my nemesis
very
well.
For he, is me…
My own worst enemy.
© 2013
Aug 6, 2013
Aug 6, 2013 at 8:22 AM UTC
King Herod has ordered the death of our boys yet again/ Afraid to be outwitted he must **** them before they become men/ Start with their diets, poison their bodies with fake food/ Then poison their minds with tempting tunes/ Your 2yr old doesn't hear the reaper in the speakers/ When the pusher pushes the idea that "young ****** outta move dope" it's genius/ no at home teachers/ so they reach us/ in a place we feel parents can't connect/ what they are starved of at home they settle and accept/ from others to fill the void/ I'm not saying keep them from music but teach them the difference between that and noise/
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 10:34 AM UTC
Collectively I feel broken, but I know I am just a little bent out of shape. Feeling more, mirroring less, and yet caring so little. You are as nice as you can be, but you feel like you want to break everything around you. You fear only the pain and consequences of these actions, so you loosely think about it knowing you are stoic. I resume writing this only to make sure my feelings are clear. I love few things in this world, and fewer people. I don't hate anyone, but I hate things. I can't really be amused unless I let myself be open, and I can't really be open without being with people I consider above a certain level. I am selective, I am rude, and I am overall a bad person. I want to help people, but I am too lazy to ask if anyone needs aide. I can't even correct the fact that I am lazy. I can't correct my life without love, but I can't even admit it to myself. I can't convince myself that love is logical enough to be important. I hate the concept of my heart being right over my brain and it is crushing my concept of reality knowing what my heart has to say. I feel butterflies in my stomach, but I am not thinking about anyone. My heart is letting me feel the rush that it wants. To bring me back down it is crushing me with depression and guilt. I can't even keep things to myself, subtly I leave clues about what is going on, and I can't ever keep it to myself for long given my company. I am arrogant in the sense that I feel I can't be outwitted. My heart is cruel, my head is egotistical, and my body can't take it anymore. Love is the only equalizer, but love is unattainable when you can only sit at home. I don't know what I am doing here, listening to my heart is giving me a headache. As I feel neglected, my emotions feel like I am neglecting them. Whatever course of action I take is the wrong one, and I am convinced of that. My heart can't fit on this screen, yet my life could fit in a book. I sit around and play league as my social status decays under the fact that no one even tries to talk with me that I care about. The people I don't even have interest in seem to be the most interest in me. The people I just barely don't hate want to make my life hell, and the people who care don't seem to see past the fake smile I put on every day. I can't expect the world out of people around me, but I also can't expect results from no actions. What I want in my life outside of love isn't much. Laying in bed at night, the only solitude I have is hugging a blanket to make up for all of the contact that I don't have. I can't write anymore of this, later maybe. Good luck, me, try and get yourself out of a self-inflicted hell.
Nov 17, 2013
Nov 17, 2013 at 9:15 PM UTC
Memories,
Nothing but just an old trick.
The past,
Crammed with both agony and fear
Dignity is condemned from the outwitted.
Memories,
Nothing but just a recurring nightmare.
The future,
Hindered by unresolved guilt and shame.
Misfortune shadows the pessimistic soul.
Memories.
Everything that tells your history.
The present,
Judged by the notorious in disguise.
Faith is your only guidance this time.
Jul 22, 2013
Jul 22, 2013 at 10:07 PM UTC
tumultuous tree-hugger terrorizing transnationals
nothing timid about firebombing the research lab
desperate attempt to save cancerous mice
and one old, dazed chimp subject
laws are meant to be outwitted
outdated equipment sit in ***** buckets
sprawled across the 1972 VW van floor
new world freedom fighter
too inebriated to understand injustice is just
the lack of social equality is equal to the abundance of cultural apathy
and yet, someone has to stand up for a cause
someone must right the wrongs
perpetrators perpetuate post-9/11 discord
throwing Muslims under tourist buses
an unshaved face sadly looks to the dirt underfoot
answers evade even nature
matted and disheveled hair hides a mind
bent on defeating the status quo
and limiting monetary political contributions
facilitating sweat-lodges and peyote ceremonies
seeking Zen through external chemical compounds
in a moment of clarity a thought crosses
what would I be doing
had Jerry lived?
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 2:25 PM UTC
Why do we laugh at 'cartoons,'
other than because they are funny
Is it the hopeless pursuance of...
catching a Tweetybird.....or
a Roadrunner.........or
Yosemite Sam outwitted by a rabbit....or
Michigan J. Frog singing "Hello My Baby!"
Think about it-
we are laughing at ourselves -
After all, it's their human traits and foibles
we gave them......that make us laugh.
"Blame it on Aesop, he started it!"
r. riddle: September 01, 2016
Sep 1, 2016
Sep 1, 2016 at 12:26 PM UTC
I watched someone almost die today
and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t bother me
I see a life flash before my eyes
a million executions play like infernal theater
on multiple screens and the protagonist
keeps walking to the stop more afraid
of missing the bus than being run over
while the driver stares blankly, maybe thinking
about something they saw on Instagram
I am troubled by this but I’m feeling an odd
sense of bliss and reverence for my senses
flooded with multiple universes deserving
every bit of my attention indexed into
stories I tell my therapist laughing at
the absurdity of it all
the majestic tapestry woven
with uneven threads and patchwork
processes humanity has distilled into
averages and medians and experts
who think they’ve outwitted god
through postulating perpetual motion
towards Hell or Nirvana or Haley’s comet
whatever stops the itch
burning a hole in our collective consciousness
regardless of our upbringing we’re wired
to ask why are we ******* here
until the question becomes heavy
and our knees buckle and we
kneel at the feet of something
other than the ground we’re standing on
Sep 23, 2025
Sep 23, 2025 at 11:18 PM UTC
Some minor character in a TV Sunday play
Was asked to pick a day, (just one mind you)
That he would wish to live through once again.
And, do you know what?
Even though he seemed quite sane
He could not think of one.
Yet, don’t think this odd,
For even God (speaking on a late night show)
Was slow to answer.
And when He did, admitted that the question
Had outwitted even Him.
“The past’s been grim.” He said.
Adding, that the question was an unfair test.
But that, if pressed, He guessed
The best was still to come.
©James Rainsford 2010
Nov 13, 2010
Nov 13, 2010 at 7:14 AM UTC
I watched as she,
The surf,
Giggled and gagged
Against sand’s constraints,
Playing dead on shore’s lap she lay eager
In wait,
And he, outwitted by deceit’s delight,
Allowed her company.
Then like a child at play,
She crashed and caved,
Swallowed, swilled and spat
him up.
She, Crowned in exultation,
She, Appeased by smug victory,
Arched and moaned and sighed.
She, with a smile that dripped sweet nothings
Left him smooth,
Polished to glint and gleam.
Yet, She, upon returning home,
As most guilty lovers do,
Finally lay still to sound of her lover.
I watched,
as she,
sunk to the cries of the Sun,
uttered soft apology.
Though, that too, like such lies often are,
Was drowned by her beloved’s glare,
And for all she had done,
Blue was burnt scarlet,
as the surf was set ablaze.
Jul 13, 2019
Jul 13, 2019 at 10:38 AM UTC
Am I about to believe in fate?
Or am I gonna forget it anyway?
Because every time I see you,
It feels like it is always meant to be.
Horses are racing
Affecting my heart thoroughly
With fierce consequences
And engulfed my soul
And anointed to my identity through my mind
It's just, I am outwitted by you
I abhorred it!
Without any acquaintance
That you will gonna be this exalted for me
But, no matter what
You're still the source of my happiness
The reason behind all the pleasures and amusements
Thank you for giving such inspiration
I love the way I love you.
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 2:39 AM UTC
Dark skies of midday madness,
The world has been painted in darkness.
Moments ago, the carnage of day,
Personification of pride, ran rampant.
Outsmarted, outwitted, outmatched
Pillars of ego fall, as all do, to their knees.
Nature is less forgiving, she has grown bitter.
She batters and bruises, lashing with rage.
But is this not her right, more so her duty.
Clouds pour their thick mist across heavens,
Day light is of a when long forgotten.
Bless this fortune, this humility.
Rise, embrace the turning of tides.
Mar 2, 2018
Mar 2, 2018 at 8:15 AM UTC
The moon haunted the room through its raw voyeuristic glow.
As she wrapped her bare legs around his frail torso she spoke at a tone that tickled his neck. The only thing he could keep in his failing body that day was a humble cup of yogurt. Minutes bled into hours that she rubbed his cold shoulders. They laid naked together with tubes in his veins.
The air in the room held the familiar scent of a summer night. This night was a good one. No blankets damp with tears, or shallow breaths that punctuate eloquent apologies. Only the two meandering through distant memories. He closed his aching eyes and rested his head in her lap.
Vertigo took hold of her as she looked down upon him. He was an asphalt flower trying to break free. He spent his days using a meager palette of activity. Staring at the hospital ceiling he inconsolably searched for a crack. For hours he laid still, violently thinking.
Then, beyond the shadow of doubt came the orchestration of happiness. Dopamine hit a crescendo at the cue of eureka.
He outwitted death.
He realised he could succeed eternal rest by living forever in her.
The simple loophole of death:
love.
Apr 28, 2011
Apr 28, 2011 at 8:04 PM UTC
My pride is as vast as the ocean,
It's boldness carries no caution.
My pride is as vast as the sea,
From truthful horizons it does flee!
I do not need this much pride
But it never leaves my side.
It's making me stray into the dark,
Closing in as I run out of luck.
My pride is a blaze of guns,
A masterful magician doing his stunts!
Welling up the dust in its void,
Till everything has been destroyed!
In its clothing I'm always defeated,
In this game I'm always outwitTed.
I don't need to fall into this trap again,
Getting out will be such a strain!
Mar 26, 2017
Mar 26, 2017 at 4:49 PM UTC
You've outwitted a sandstorm.
Your granular debris
seeping into every crevice,
every crease and fold
in between the stutters
in Sunday mass
and the temple underneath the sheets
on a Friday night.
Tell me
if its really intrusion
in the absence of refusal.
If not,
the moon
retains its audacity
to be beautiful
and us,
collateral damage--
tucked in from implosion.
A means to an end.
The sun gets up
and I'm left to wonder
how I feel nothing at all.
May 3, 2019
May 3, 2019 at 1:32 PM UTC
There will be no secrets
Nowhere to hide
The left and right outwitted
And little brother inside
The drones and data crawlers delve
Dreams and nightmares being ourselves
Compiled evidences mount concern
While mankind’s bridges burn
Our cyborg image never shown
Our accessories scent allured us
Hums of technology a pleasant moan
We breathed deep the aroma’s service
Bandwidth culture firmly in place
Everyman has no face
Ethnicity of avatar and clan of choice
Everyman selects a voice
The blind face themselves feeling
Something’s missing out of sight
Reaching for the cognitive ceiling
Surrendering for wrong and right
To machines constant drumming
The overfuture’s coming
Where there’s nothing left to do
And no difference from me to you
Sep 9, 2020
Sep 9, 2020 at 10:01 AM UTC
I missed those long nights,
Where I clapped my hands to those high pitched melodies
Those smart creatures
Outwitted the best of tutors.
Bees love nectar,
Mosquitoes can't you learn?
Drinking of red wine
like vampires
I wonder how African's blood make your taste buds feel.
Mosquito mosquito
You've Perturbed our nights.
Noisy and infectious
Your stings have made us sick.
Why rescue mosquito to safety?
Noah why let them into the ark?
We would never have had to tackle witty mosquito.
Apr 9, 2018
Apr 9, 2018 at 7:54 PM UTC
Often the little kid in me asked,
How can people like this exist?
Two faced , hurtful and manipulative!
Grew up developed a hard coat,
To endure this dance with the devil .
The two pronged diabolical ways,
To see through this thick haze ,
Brazen - till the void grew bigger,
My heart once again set ablaze,
Twisted skills need no praise.
Do I play fairly with them ?
Do I twist my own ways ?
Should I really endure this pain ?
Will they not do this again?
Repeating misdeeds is their bane!
Should I even care or distance ?
Let them stay in their own pretense ,
Let their stares pass through,
The ghost of my wrath pass them,
Should I bind my lose ends in a hem?
What a waste of my time and energy,
They are but beasts from down below.
Creatures of these kind do persist,
My boredom is not their grand heist.
This exasperation should not exist !
I bow down to the force within,
Shed this coat of human existence,
Outwitted by reaction to the mundane,
I secure my stance to be sane.
Let not these thoughts bother once again!
Mar 23, 2025
Mar 23, 2025 at 2:30 PM UTC
The Messes We Leave
The Cats You Dump on My Door
There’s a black plastic bag sleeping in a tree
And an orange cat who treads beneath it,
Flinching at
The jack-o-lantern grins
That the coyotes give
As they prowl about at night.
Even after we take him inside,
He’s often so scared
Wide-eyed and meowing
Like these new owners will leave him too.
There’s a whole litter
Gone in scattered bones
Except for one who watches from rooftops and trees.
He never meows, that one,
Never accepts the invitation to come in.
There’s a pregnant kitten
Barely more than skin,
And a white calico
Who stares at us with the same cunning eyes
That outwitted the wolves other pale cats did not.
Those are the handful we tucked away behind these walls,
The rest are not so lucky.
A pair of siblings who lost the third
Two toms who yowl to each other at night,
Those are just the handful who survive still out there.
Together, they are that small number out of countless dozens
Who disappeared under car tires and canine teeth.
Dec 15, 2018
Dec 15, 2018 at 12:18 PM UTC
on the gallows pole
at the turn of
the womanhood
of resistance
I am naked
with my sins
but not
to the touch
white men
will be devoured
outwitted
unflavored
by my kind
because of the government
we know evil
because of the government
my people
rise from the ashes
of our pain
our grief
out of sleep
and into a riotous
rebellion
of soft skin
and hard fingernails
of women
who were never held back
but silenced
of women who were never held up
but let down
we will be the ones
to remind The Man
that we have been here
all along—
as prophets
as keepers
as an articulation
of the people
we refuse
to
keep quiet.
Nov 1, 2018
Nov 1, 2018 at 8:57 PM UTC
Blood-thirsty
the hounds were clipping my heels
panting, jeering
teeth showing
breath bereft
the lion's roar ceased
dying, faltering
ghost crumbling
light flickering
neither flight nor flight
doable, practical
discretion spent
outwitted
the lion lay low
willing, hankering
death by hideous hounds
a stranger to
fiery forces
converging, composing
resounding resurrection
eardrum busting
the lion's roar roasted the hounds
easing, mending
spirit rising
horizon spanning
my breath took hold
expanding, binding
fragments of me
Jan 24, 2019
Jan 24, 2019 at 6:53 AM UTC