"ploys" poems
A confident man feels not a need to speak
on all things with which he does not agree
Though in the proper time and place
he is not afraid to assert his way
And though his words at times cause spurn,
he will admit when they are out of turn
Fearing not the inevitable mistake,
but rather owning it too late
Caring and feeling without hesitation
and not for reciprocal adulation
Emotions are expressed appropriately;
either subtlety or rationally
As honest with others as with himself;
recognizing what he does and doesn’t do well
Claiming to know what he does know
and asks when he don’t
Pursuing tasks for their benefit and or joy
rather than status or fleeting ploys
Those latter things are often great fun,
but worry of them yields none
While in his mind there is good thinking,
he is more occupied with good acting
In order to have concerns of the ideological,
requires labors that are practical
On his confidence, he does not ponder,
as neither he or anyone wonders
of whether he truly possesses it.
We know it.
Sep 19, 2018
Sep 19, 2018 at 6:25 PM UTC
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya;[email protected])
It is the 30th day of the months in Kenya
State and corporate capitalist have now paid their workers
Wages or salaries or stipends or emoluments all being remunerations
While the rural bourgeoisie and urban bourgeoisie have also paid ex-gratia
To relatives come over-aged workers who have declined retiring
For the fear of looming starvation if at all they go home, where they were born,
Nonetheless; proceed they receive will do nothing whatsoever
As it will be stifled by the monster of desperate consumerism;
So fat and gullible in this tiger of land in the region called Kenya;
The terror peddling rent, courtesy of ruthlessness of the landlord
Bills of electric power in their full monopolistic gear
Bills of water devoid of quality, indifferent dysentery monger
Wages for maid who keep on usurping the food of my child; milk
Bills for gas, all of it redolent of comprador bourgeoisie in fashion,
Hotel and bar bill - a surreptious one, as the bar girl only knows
Airtime and renewal, TV channels and other screen capitalistic ploys
Family trip to local resort in a feat of foolish consumerist venture,
Money to the old mother at home and, sometimes depraved but patient father
ARV’s money to my *** aids stricken sister at the village, my aunt also
Tuition fees for my son at the kindergarten, who goes to schools but learns nothing
fees balance which my wife has to pay at the tailor to ransom out her dress,
M-Pesa and M-Swari loan repayment, this only for Kenyan 30th dayers
They know the agony of dealing with Kenyan mega-capitalist safaricom ltd.
This consumerism and **** consumerism,
It is the menacing bane of the Kenyan poor
It is the avaricious tube which siphons back
The hard earned money from pockets of the poor
Back to despotic account of the pitiless world pigshotry.
Feb 28, 2014
Feb 28, 2014 at 9:35 AM UTC
GOOGLE’S LOVE ADVICE
© Louis Brown
His relationship with girls was somewhat awful
He'd used less than brilliance in that world
So he searched the internet for wisdom he could get
To get some ***** kisses from the girls
Folks told him Google had a lot of answers
And he learned a lot by reading Romeo
And since he studied Hindu, they like what he is into
He's popular with all the girls he knows
IT JUST TOOK SOME GOOGLE’S LOVE ADVICE
NOW IN HIS ARMS THEY WANT HIS LOVING THRICE
AND OLE GOOGLE TAUGHT HIM PLOYS
PUTTING SHAME TO ALL THE BOYS
IT JUST TOOK SOME GOOGLE’S LOVE ADVICE
He found they wanted more than pretty roses
And though some sweet perfume may change their mood
The **** tips He googled means overtures by the oodles
The girls all want a piece of this young dude
So now his black book's full of pretty girls
And they call him well before he starts his day
Every time he learns new angles they love to get entangled
Learning those love lessons from Bombay.
CHORUS
Bridge: Old Google taught him every new approach
Now when it comes to romance he's the coach……..
CHORUS
Feb 15, 2011
Feb 15, 2011 at 8:39 AM UTC
I strive to be…
a transcendent being…
armed with fearless questioning
powered by
Love and light.
A transcendent being
...is not lead by ploys
to keep the world separated.
..does not judge others
In order to feel better
about themselves.
A transcendent being
is comfortable in their own skin...
therefore …
ego and envy
are taken out of the mix...
A transcendent being
sees through fearless eyes
the beauty of the rest of the world,
A transcendent being
carries with them
their own personal joy…
excited by possibilities and purpose
their world becomes full of adventure.
Problems do not disappear…
They simply become a challenge
Fueled by what could be
inspired by justice
distributed with integrity.
Without fears…
transcendent beings see
what is truly needed…
… a system designed with
the realities of the present
and accommodations
that are handed out justly…
distributed with intregrity.
Ushering out "should's"
And “should not’s”
Replaced with more…
fearless compassion...
and why not's.
Imagine then...
what you would change...
and join me in striving
To be a Transcedent Being.
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 8:32 AM UTC
Look at all the parrots--
Parroting the words
Of all the other parrots--
Of all the other birds--
Parroting profusely
All the same refrains--
Parroting the constant patter
In their parrot brains--
Parroting the preaching
From the pulpit to the pews--
Parroting their parents'
And their parents' parents' views--
Parroting their leaders
And their pompous platitudes--
Parroting their peers'
Pretentious attitudes--
Parroting the patriarchs'
Proselytizing that'll
Put your teeth on edge
With their pathetic prattle--
Parroting the poppycock
Of trite pontifications--
Parroting pernicious
And sly manipulations--
Parroting the pretty birds
Whose pageantry and glory
Appeal to their prurient tastes
In each pathetic story--
Parroting the songsters
With parasitic pleasure
And counting out the rhythm
Of every pitiful measure--
Parroting the powerful
Whose ploys are so profuse,
Leaving the powerless
Pummeled with abuse--
Parroting with passion
Presumptuous prophesies
With putative contrition,
"Humbly" on their knees--
Parroting themselves--
Together all in sync--
How they love to parrot
So they don't have to think!
- by Bob B
Oct 30, 2016
Oct 30, 2016 at 8:10 AM UTC
in the quiet
between the metal madness
of flesh being ripped from young bones
the watching and waiting
the stinging eyes
the flaring nostrils filled
with the sounds
of ****** painted flesh
there is a cool liquid silence
that comes with
the token tokes we take
as we pass the golden bowl
those times when we forget
we could flick a switch
and rock and roll
rock and roll
with psycho-delic cassettes, or
full metal jackets, though
neither allows us to see
there are times of senseless silence
and lost lizards lounging
on dew dappled leaves
in mornings after
the crushing steel
the fatal fingered agony
we sewed and reaped,
there
is
this
quiet,
this still green scent
the lizard and the fruit
the green promise of tomorrow
that we may erase
with our screaming toys
and deadly ploys
but only after we awake
from this smoky drifting dream
Mar 1, 2013
Mar 1, 2013 at 1:21 AM UTC
the trollometer
is a reliable
apparatus
how well it gauges
the trolling
status
of great accuracy
the needle it
employs
which locates
any untoward
ploys
trolls can pop up
wearing a plethora of
faces
theirs is the playing
of copious
aces
the trollometer
never gets its readings
wrong
the inventor's guarantee
is of a precise
prong
Feb 28, 2018
Feb 28, 2018 at 8:02 PM UTC
the Boxing Day test cricket match
has just begun
with the Indian bowlers
out to stymie the Australian's run
they'll be keeping
their cherry ball deliveries tight
so the lads from Oz
don't get any easy flight
on the wicket there will be
a momentous Waterloo battle
the Indian side shall need
all of its line and length chattel
no loose ***** going awry
into the four's ditch
they'll have to be spot on
when sailing down the pitch
in the first session of play
India can't afford one mistake
or their teams shall be left
in the Aussie team's shattering wake
as the innings progresses
throughout the day
the Australian side
will surely be making hay
the pride of both cricketing nations
is at stake on the MCG
those vying to win the spoils of the test
shall require a flawless key
runs aplenty are on offer on the pitch
for the Aussie boys
so the Indian bowlers must forestall
their batting ploys
Dec 25, 2014
Dec 25, 2014 at 8:32 PM UTC
Nicotine and amphetamine cure my loneliness and longing for attention,
hours spent scrolling through fake news and useless ploys for attention,
maybe they're just like me
I think as I watch their exasperated cry for help.
All they want is some attention or someone to give it to them,
But they can’t have it
It’s not that simple
I whisper, as I scroll through what's been recently posted.
Everyones either sad or single,
And I fit both categories.
So why is everyone always coming for each other?
You see no matter how much we ask,
No matter how many times we ask the world for help,
They wont answer our cries
Because we’re pathetic?
Exactly.
See the human mind likes to judge everything,
Whether it be ourselves or others,
We are constantly judging.
Whether it's not done right or done too well,
The world has a problem with it.
They call this Twitter
Nov 18, 2020
Nov 18, 2020 at 8:19 AM UTC
Maybe your mothers and fathers do not know right from wrong
Maybe those that birth you cannot tell real from unreal
The apples do not fall far from the trees that we know all along
So no surprise when off-springs and all fall into the reel
Unable to decipher the lost and damaged from their midst adorn
My mother washed me in truth, honesty, sincerity and real love
That's the only path that graces the soul and makes humanity
So all my life I know what's real, true, honest from all else above
You walk your path and serve your gods in all their profanity
Your festered minds and putrid brains is not like mine thereof
In superficial abodes, your falseness lies fakery has confused you
No truth or honesty exists all around only deceits and raw fear
You rot from the inside and feed from poison not breastmilk too
from start you're ****** your brains from chemicals they rear
Spooks with semblance no substance, serving satan them born fools
I know what's real what's true what's honest and sincere or not
That is me from real bosoms raised in edifying values not falsity
Come in thousands you stink from a mile off satan demons squat
Sincerity truthfulness if erred makes amends not sit discordantly
Real Humanity embraces love and peace not mortal duels that's fact
From negativity you drink in darkness lies your bread and joy
miseries and fears you seek to share cause your souls lies in pain
In cancerous fears you scheme and plot your ****** evils ploys
Cause it destroys you to see goodness whilst your souls' in chain
Weak corrupted dark and damaged subjugated to lucifers noise
Gnarled old wrinkled before your years you envy my young looks
Borne of inner joy and unafraid pious calm pathetics spit zombie
Too sick to know a clear conscience never pines or fears like crooks
Pure and noble emotions caters no dirt or negativities like loonies
Dignity and integrity offers granite to malevolent duds and hooks
Oct 31, 2018
Oct 31, 2018 at 10:16 AM UTC
My favorite doll’s name is Ranella Balue
She is my loveliest toy
At this moment she and I are in great trouble
Because of her antics and ploys
Ranella is sitting on a shelf by a broken mirror
I have been vanquished to a chair
We sit staring at each other across the room
Pulling the springing curls from our hair
Scattered all around us are broken dishes
Staring from the hardwood floor
Mother’s finest, lying shattered in a million pieces
Because Ranella threw them at the door
Now, I do not understand this lovely doll of mine
How she could do such a thing
I even told Mother it was her fault not my own
As I was outside on my little swing
So here, I sit alone with my favorite doll
Ranella Balue is her name
In trouble once again for something I did not do
She laugh’s, enjoying the game
Sep 13, 2010
Sep 13, 2010 at 3:35 PM UTC
What's given
Can be taken
Life constantly mending
The rules that are continually bending
Our troubles from alarm
From people trained to bring harm
Now do we live to love
Find ways to rise above
Or cave into
The things we think we'd never do
Lose the things we came to be
Never knowing what we could truly see
Rough patches through the dark
Even though we've all been given an ark
Some choose to live that path
Living in a continual blood bath
Using hate to make us feel provin
Living a life that's not worth livin
It's easy to just give up
And get obsession and disrupt
But I beg of me come away
To shine on and shine today
I beg of you to do the same
Do not let the darkness bring you shame
Move through life with a great light
Something that will eventually shine bright
I know it's hard when dark destroys
Trying to fool you with all it's mental ploys
But your are strong
You'll learn to prove life wrong
Or maybe right
Cause life could be bright
I say to you with great haste
make sure to go out and give life a taste
Cause it's worth the time
do not commit the crime
Stop abandoning your morals
And begain to remove your quarrels
Life will transcend
It's only around the bend
Don't give up I beg of you
They say couple people make it only a few
But I believe if we all really tried
That everyone will make it before they all have gone and died
So I say to you be the ones who tried
And give up the you who once lied
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 9:35 PM UTC
Yellow syrup coats the glass
Held together by rainbow metal
Flashing lights line the coal-black screen
This is my vice
Begging me to cave in
To take one taste
I'm overwhelmed with sadness
But I see through its disguise
If I fight the cravings
My brain attempts to manipulate me
Back into the drug
Sadness
Anger
Frustration
Anxiety
They're all ploys
Trap doors to fall through
Right back into my addiction
I have to check myself
To remember that quitting
Is an active choice I make
And even though it's only been 5 hours
It's better than nothing
Jan 23, 2018
Jan 23, 2018 at 2:13 AM UTC
My buddies shared stories
When they wanted protection
But the ******** fanatics’
Decisions were static
Used all possible ploys
To manipulate guys
Into blowing their loads
In their pink little holes
These girls might be crazy
They may well be *****
For all we know
They might want a baby
Regardless of risk
My guys fell for their tricks
When one ruse failed
The girls went down their list
They said not to worry
*** and ***** are clean
When they ****** the next day
It burned like lit gasoline
They turned up the heat
Seduction was key
Till all they could think
Was with the head between their legs
It won’t feel as good
Sensitivity reduced
You won’t stay hard
And I won’t stay wet and squirt jets
You should accept my request
I thought we were cool
If you just trusted me…
Be carefree like a hippie baby!
Emotional blackmail
I’ll get mad if you insist
To protect your *****
Resistance is futile *****
They said if we must
Let ME wrap it up
I’ll secretly poke holes
Or slip off before you explode
She’ll have no *** at all
Or she’ll force you down
And stay on top
Making you drop the ****** to the ground
She says she’s on the pill
When she’s definitely not
Even if you pull out
There’s still ***** in your pre-cum, no doubt
Either she’ll give you disease
Or steal your seed for a baby
None of that is love
So wear a glove bubba
At the end of the story
They said don’t stick your **** in crazy
She might get too attached
You’ll wake up with your **** and ***** detached
Nov 6, 2024
Nov 6, 2024 at 10:50 AM UTC
Take a chance on me, my love
Let's see how far it goes
I swear to open up my heart
But vow to look in close
Explore the depths of my soul
Find the places where I hide
Tear down the walls I built
To keep out the irresolute of heart
Probe the edges of my mind
Peel out my layers one by one
Collect my broken pieces
See past my cold facade
Know the silly stories I keep
And what makes my eyes light up
The quips that make me giggle
The ploys that make me laugh
Learn the words that speak to me
And the tricks that make me smile
The tunes that pull my heartstrings
The scenes that make me cry
Honey, take my hand in haste
Like there's not a time to waste
Keep me safe inside your arms
Like I would never come to harm
In turn, I'll lie beside you
And be there when you want
I'll be your little sunshine
To cheer you when you're down
I'll know when you need to be alone
Or if you need someone to care
I'll take pride in your achievements
And delight in all your quirks
I'll believe in all your dreams
And trust the words you say
I'll savor all our moments
And please you in every way
Take a chance on me my love
Let's see how far it goes
If you find you still don't love me
I swear to let you go
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 1:48 AM UTC
A grand gateway, reaches
Towards heaven, burrowing
Into hell itself, resides in ridicule
To an immortal being, in mortal flesh
Nightmares are cocktails for truth
Incantations to shatter bones into keys
Padlocked manipulation and deceit
Failed attempts echo in magnitudes
Both sinister ploys and moments of joy
Ripple into cracks, teasing of another side
A truth for the ancients, beings without moral
Fathomless worlds of nuetrality and power
If ever for a moment, and not a moment more
These shockwaves of the mind come shattering
Blowing down this door, screaming rage and ruin
Then I will be free, of the chains which bind me.
Oct 31, 2016
Oct 31, 2016 at 11:29 PM UTC
She surrenders her joys
A-line highway what ploys
Per- day 2 B or not to Be
B for breakaway
Windy- seaway everyday
endless living
Stay to the right tossing skirt
Gossip throwing unwanted dirt
Smoky bear mountain no harm
Losing one valuable gift charm
His name in honor
feeling complete
Highway for justice and absolute
The right way
Aroma apple pie putting on
Your husbands
Graphic artist highway- tie
How many people on the highway
Never to confess and lie
Highway doesn't have any privacy
True saint of shrubbery mountain tops
curved figure highways
Reckless cliffs skirt ruffles love
feeling rammed
Turn of the century traffic jammed
Your skirt flew up like wild goose chase
You rather of went Big- City marathon
bike race
By- way time -may be- silent have
nothing to say?
Performance piano Steinway
Skirt highway waving flag winning everyday*
Your skirt drenched rooftop concerts
Nest of Blue Jays no highway
Serenity sky draw the deviant
But words can heal even on a highway
My lips are sealed?
Jul 23, 2023
Jul 23, 2023 at 2:05 PM UTC
Buy a new toy, hatch a few ploys,
and don't be coy, when you feel joy,
for end will sting, and will not bring,
any shining, light on your wings,
unless you allow
it's rightful bellow.
Jun 10, 2013
Jun 10, 2013 at 3:52 AM UTC
I foster an incremental relation to the cosmos, enticed regularly by its indefiniteness and appeal.
Its evolutions, innate behaviors, and formidable sciences are recompense for earth’s meager discrepancies.
I often engage in the caprice to dismount much dissatisfaction by the constancy of riveting celestial events.
These beings possess no artificiality.
Its prophetic order, ornate and stupendous architectural facets have allowed a crescendo of dispositional hysteria.
Prosaic imprecations are deduced from its auxiliary wherewithal.
There is no contrition in immersing in enthrallment nor is there fickleness in trust.
Magnificent bodies orbit in finesse and probability, achieving universality and control.
Though these incitements are exponentially cheering, my origin is but connoted in despondency.
Usurpers and ill-suited vandals proliferated by the intemperance of the Ptolemaic discipline.
Rustics, miscreants and idle minds misdirected by less virtuous planetary derision.
My cognitive severity asserted by ominous consummation.
Oh how these preponderant truths confine me unfortunate.
Soliloquy is but an affliction amidst this era of anachronistic reign.
Grandiose passivity is intolerable at this time.
I plan to dichotomize my adamant fate from precepts and conditions anew.
The deposition of malfeasant kings will be sought.
Ploys I have already configured; propagation is near to instigation.
I will exhort my ascent to prime eminence.
The stars will sanction me to a rightful end.
Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 8:49 AM UTC
The window is open and the wind is cold,
As I lay in my bed feigning sleep, I feel old
The hollowness in my bones speak of stories untold
There will be few memories that my ***** today will hold
I perceive this from the lack of enthusiasm with which I greet the day.
All the actions and reactions that will, with it, fall into decay.
I harbour no remorse for the want of warmth in my stare
And I feel that those who ask it of me shouldn't really dare.
It is not for me to judge the tides of such stirrings
I fear I am not experienced in these whirrings.
I fall short when it comes to simple joys, but to the brim in human ploys.
I am like the moon when she is round and full,
Making you rise up like the waves, gasping at the pull.
I don my hat of deadened emotions,
Human suffering I wear like a fur coat, thick and long
The plight of mankind I observe like ten thousand devotions,
Until the distorted essence of us stops seeming so...wrong.
Because I am more attuned to the dark,
To the quiet whimpers of children taken from the park.
The individual's darkness tears at my conscience
His malignant blackness a disease in his heart
Tell me where do the soft go?
Whose untainted innocence is not abused roughly so?
Whose kindness is not swallowed up by an unwholesome whole?
And the taste of life is not more bitter than sweet?
For I would wish for an otherness escape if it were not so.
The eternity of time when it was still young, and the solitude of the dark when it was empty.
The hardness of diamonds before the fire, and the fluidity of water before the frost.
The immeasurable pillars holding up the sky, and the animation of the body before its death,
And the soul that is tasked to carry all these along and hold up its head.
May 30, 2018
May 30, 2018 at 9:12 AM UTC
Send me away to some Dixieland town,
to some one-bank, water-tower, small-time town,
with simple backwoods thinkers,
and boys playing hooky with sinkers.
Send me away from these weak city girls,
with their sleek plastic looks
and their chic, stylish curls.
Give me instead those natural ladies,
in hand-me-down calico skirts.
Give me the girls who brush their hair twice,
then frolic with dogs in the dirt.
I will always strive to impress
a woman in a home-made dress.
But I will never apply my modest ploys
to the wooing of ladies
who thrive on city joys
and the jive of city boys.
May 20, 2012
May 20, 2012 at 6:11 PM UTC
The child within is higher far than captures of beauty
Resting wild yet expressed in a dozen joys
Before night falls, you will find me
Here thrilling to all my
Youthful ploys
I wrap myself in a wish that smiles closely inside
Upon the lake of shadows in my soul
Above the inner child who hides
Within the hills and valleys
Down below
My sun-filled eyes I say have slept too long
In the gloom, time has placed me in
From a balcony, I hear a song
Youth still plays for me
Here within
I guard the inner child that lives within my soul
From the dark clouds that drift along
I keep her innocence whole
So that I will never
Lose her song
Your child within is higher far than captures of beauty
Keep her wrapped closely in your smiling ways
Do not keep her hidden in those valleys
Fill her eyes with sunshine
Let her play!
Dec 19, 2010
Dec 19, 2010 at 8:10 AM UTC
jackhammer rings
thoughts scream not sing
fighting for a spot
at the show
with each blow
of the metal drill
is sent a shrill
you can shake a chill
but never a cold
mind fits a mold
do what you're told
tried to make a break
but the earth beneath me quakes
with each riff of the hammer
who defined these parameters?
bordered by hate and mistrust
feeling so abused
compromised and misused
I will not shy behind the fence that you've enclosed
trade what I think for what I know
because I know what lays beneath the ground
your out of touch and out of sound
the jack hammers fill my ears with white noise
that dilutes your scheming and ploys
and I could be gone for a thousand years
in only 2 minutes
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 8:51 AM UTC
Movement stirs within womb of thought;
spellbound in fluid sac, fetally curled in
warmth; neither blooming in mind or
heart as host is indecisive; concept mote.
mind blank; confused as...
dubious action causes shame, bearing of
birth unwanted; incestuous violations,
sexually abused as crimson feather blooms
within body too young to blush; thoughts
in flaming anger flushed.
drenched in attrition...
passionate disdain of horrid disgust; in hand,
hanger of mass destruction; a fetal demise
plays against familial distrust, inside mind
combusts; a finger pointed, says, young eyes
beguiled and flamed their lust.
innocence stolen..
in back alley clinic, I extract what is just,
aftertaste, body refuting life flushed;
pysche destroyed, used like someone's toy,
chastity drained from eyes; no longer angelic;
turned cold and coy, ambivalence to destroy.
devious ploys invade anima of woman-child,
turned frigid of emotions; used and abused,
even though given emancipation rights; making
fledgling choices; in voices, now foul-tongued.
still young....
dumbfounded within...
yet, fetally unsprung...
Jun 12, 2012
Jun 12, 2012 at 3:02 AM UTC