"suckered" poems
You remind me of my cold bitter coffee.
Better yet, my cold bitter coffee reminds me of you.
Once upon a time it was warm.
Like you.
Now, It makes my stomach sick when I sip on the stale sweet leftovers.
And if you didn't catch the pattern, like you.
Still I find myself mindlessly reaching this past hour while sitting in an ambiance ridden coffee shop, listening to other saps who've been suckered into lust, beating out their soft sorrows with melodies in the background.
I bring my cup to my lips, tilt it back, expecting to be infused with a sense of belonging that's no longer there.
I'm searching for you in my coffee cup, but all that's left is ***** looking walls and lipstick stains.
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 12:31 AM UTC
begin the day ; a **** taught of features
in need of clean linen,
unswallowable meds
and a diaper change
routine ; that'll teach ya !
they ask her the day of the week
her name
what year it is
when is your birthday ?
do you feel any pain ?
do you know where you are ?
flailing in memory
they just turn off the overheads
and let her settle into her senility
attend to the physical basics
whilst she's suckered into her own storage unit
operating like a humming fridge
with its door slight ajar
and the small hot bulb
finking on and winking off
- perish well
& in comfort Dear
Mar 27, 2022
Mar 27, 2022 at 3:22 PM UTC
Can't get the stink off
He's been hanging round for days
Comes like a comet
Suckered you but not your friends
One day he'll get to you
And teach you how to be a holy cow
*You do it to yourself, you do
And that's what really hurts
Is that you do it to yourself
Just you and no one else
You do it to yourself
You do it to yourself*
Don't get my sympathy
Hanging out the 15th floor
You've changed the locks three times
He still comes reeling through the door
One day I'll get you
And teach you how to get to purest hell
*You do it to yourself, you do
And that's what really hurts
Is that you do it to yourself
Just you, you and no one else
You do it to yourself
You do it to yourself
You do it to yourself, you do
And that's what really hurts
Is that you do it to yourself
Just you, you and no one else
You do it to yourself
You do it to yourself.. yourself.. yourself..*
Writer(s): Jonathan Richard Guy Greenwood, Thomas Edward Yorke, Philip James Selway, Edward John O'brien, Colin Charles Greenwood
Copyright: Warner/Chappell Music Ltd.
ST - 10 ocky-tocky 2013
Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 3:29 PM UTC
So come sit with me here,
Where the heavens meet the shore
And let the waters lick your feet.
And we'll sit and we'll talk,
You'll ask me again how I've been.
I just keep repeating "I'm Okay" - "I'll be fine."
And I just can't believe
That you believe me.
I must be a better liar than I thought.
I can still smell his scent on your words.
The lingering ache
Of all the lies that you were suckered by.
So here's to you and your bright baby blues.
They shine just like the stars tonight.
Just like the stars.
I'm so tired of talking in riddles,
Dropping hints and trying to be tactful.
So let me lay it out straight.
He was never good enough for you.
Never.
Mar 3, 2013
Mar 3, 2013 at 7:27 PM UTC
Thousands of grains of rice boiled and resting
on the lining of unconsumed human veal. No one can **** the dweeb
who suckered that one kid at the party out of drugs
with the help of the cutest girl there. He knew how to hurt
the best in the world with one word.
Sweet tea and *** goes much deeper than the ribs
and out the back door much faster than a deadbeat dad. The stomach
rumbles the world far worse than a string of serial rapists on trial.
World hunger is a yo-yo doing pendulum swings over summer BBQs
drinking and popping *** and candy from the local radio station.
“I'm sorry I felled you. I should have done better by you. I love you.”
Vague women with just five minute existences of commitments, those Senators of Love
vying for second and third terms
before they sink into those holes in South America you hear about
in the news.
Men know nothing but control. Women know nothing but control.
Numbers know nothing.
Collapsed tunnels in the mind of Prometheus
before calendars and Twitter and liquor
just the dark and blunt
objects
Jan 21, 2014
Jan 21, 2014 at 12:52 AM UTC
got a pink bulb
suckered in mouth—
spit it out. dribble
gobstopper sun,
pause motion to
explosive creation
cake the surface
rubber dumb, POP!
sharp tap like a
snare bubble
vacuum record
in recycling bin
you had it made
su-per-ma-ssive
try again a same
chum the chew
begin renew
anew anew review
Feb 19, 2017
Feb 19, 2017 at 9:17 AM UTC
In the incandescence of this empyrean nocturnal rhapsody
A remarkably rare yet, aureate creature appeared before me
From nightfall until daybreak she smoothly crooned an infinite array
Of enamorous symphonies to which I naturally could not abstain
A subtle spark of ardency was cast upon my sauntering pneuma
Inundating me into a catalepsy of which I zestfully fancied
Her charisma suckered me in with ease, illuminating my euphoria
Masquerading my pervasive mourning, cauterizing it to ashes
Each lyric alleviates the suffering that I have so hazardously acquired
Every note speaks to me in a language unknown to the community
The tasteful euphonies that perspire, carefully assuage my heart
I raised not a finger nor did I enunciate a single word or syllable
Her musical prowess completely squandered me with passion
Jauntily I danced to the cadence of the beat scouring my veins
Ceaselessly I could bathe in the essence of her bubbling sound waves
Never shall this finely crafted music pause, It shall remain on replay
Aug 27, 2011
Aug 27, 2011 at 1:21 PM UTC
So you are not fooled
by pretty perfumed bombs
that explode in clouds of kisses
and whispers of yes,
not outfoxed
by foxiness,
sleight of hand
and hips
not suckered
by my puckered
lips
and yet
you gladly fall
for all my tricks.
Dec 31, 2010
Dec 31, 2010 at 6:31 AM UTC
He sails the seas in search of cheese
salt crackers and fresh bread,
pickles and jam and maybe ham
and apples green and red.
As salt waves Lap he checks his map
His compass points him east,
to cracked plate isle where with a smile
he hopes to find his feast.
He takes the oar and rows once more
past wrecks of sunken chips
where octopi with beady eye
swim slow beneath his ship
Beneath the calm a suckered arm
shoots out and grabs the sail
Struggling to stand his sword in hand
he strikes to no avail
As out the blue another two
take hold upon his boat
a crack a crash as others bash
he fights to stay afloat
His sword goes whack the arm pulls back
the octopus descends
Sobbing wet tears he reappears
and said can't we be friends
For I've no one for they've all gone
and left me here he said
So can we please travel the seas
in search of bread and cheese
Jacob said aye and winked his eye
and said this will be fun
Friendship he thought cannot be bought
it must with love be won
Friendship be said beats cheese and bread
laughter sweeter than jam
I wish you could feel half as good
and happy as I am
Jul 5, 2012
Jul 5, 2012 at 6:40 AM UTC
The steady strumming of steel strings,
Staccato strikes like some salacious swaying streetwalker,
Sorrow-ly sauntering through shit-slung streets.
Smelling of saffron in these places of salvia stinking slums.
Scythe swinging,
Pendulum-slow,
Cycling through souls,
Sickle of Sadness,
Strewn through both Sinners and Saints.
Sights of Scratches seduction,
Satan's satisfaction in slayings of soldiers and civilians,
Simply sumptuous.
Suckered by Senators,
Sold out by simpering, salivating slugs,
Presiding over slaughters with sadistic swagger.
Slovenly suckling upon skulls of the slain...
Sardonically
Dec 31, 2022
Dec 31, 2022 at 3:00 AM UTC
Last year my family and I traveled
to New York, the bursting bright
dreams in our light, the big apple
rooted inside our souls, the van
packed with immense suitcases
and heavy exhilaration.
We were on the long road to a
new beginning of our life. The
world we used to live in was filled
with endless moments of dragging days,
sweat stained fields riding our backs,
as we worked long breathless hours in
the scorching heat, feeling our flesh
burn to a smoldering defeat.
And as we topped and suckered the
tobacco through the day, blistered
hands buried in blazing depths,
our swollen feet cramping and
struggling, waiting patiently for
a sweet escape.
We thought it would always be
this way, every morning waking
up to the sounds of rattling tractors
and smoky engines, long draining
walks and dripping sweat rolling
down our cheeks, while we took
in the consistent cries of our lives,
letting the journey seep inside of us,
letting this world be our forever home.
Now as we stand on the grounds of
New York, the many fascinating people
passing by us in extreme excitement,
exquisite extravagances and designs,
towering buildings built of massive
strength and diligence, the Brooklyn
bridge standing majestically in the
distance overlooking the shimmering
scene, the Statue of Liberty rising
high in the sky like the tremendous
trees, like a distinguished nation.
And as we walk down the city
streets of Times Square and
breathe in the wonderful attractions,
golden glory and brightness, a
show-stopping entertainment racing
through our bodies, we welcome
our new home of various adventures,
a phenomenal place full of excellence
and taste.
Dec 20, 2018
Dec 20, 2018 at 9:51 AM UTC
My Zen priest
taught me
to eat ****
like fruit.
My Zen priest
taught me
to catch thoughts.
My Zen priest
taught me
to exclaim
the word ** loudly.
My Zen priest
taught me
that the purpose of life
is to make as much money
as you possibly can.
Don't be suckered
by a Zen priest.
Dec 5, 2011
Dec 5, 2011 at 2:16 PM UTC
I am sandpaper
longing frictions heat.
To grow both fat and
weary, sloughing
away your skin.
See what is strength
suckered and sickly
is set
to diminish.
But paper handholds,
why so dusty?
You aim for ignorance,
blooded hands to tease
simply tremor.
Yes, each whisper
charms so sweetly,
sweetly rough
against your grain.
Jul 3, 2015
Jul 3, 2015 at 5:39 AM UTC
You're pretty and you know it
using those glassy eyes to tame -
my heart's suckered 'n you know it,
post-sex love purely (surely?) to blame
my mind melts as I grow weak at the knees
your gaze flitting from sultry to predatory -
blood gushes, adrenalin flushes
sweat dripping upon my skin lust-crazy, expectedly
oh I'll burn these nervy butterflies
with this blistering searing fury,
argh, stop this Pretence girl
'cause it's just starting to bore me -
*Mind Control to Inner Soul;
"what's your status?"
Inner Soul to Mind Control;
"help! The guts are dead and the heart is fractured!!!"*
my body slowly dying, polluted sick
with the caustic affection you instil
*"WARNING; cytoplasmic deterioration imminent -
extreme psycho-bitch overkill!"*
for now I know I must give up the chase
the Neurones have received a final transmission (oh please no, it can't be);
*"This is .. Inner Soul to Mind Control..
we're all so tired.. so tired .. so .. sleepy - - -"*
CLICK
Aug 30, 2015
Aug 30, 2015 at 6:30 PM UTC
A crease in the socket of emotion
proposed a silent watery rhyme,
swam under the surface of your
thoughts, so as not to disturb
patterns forming, digits and dots
tapping at your side in vain edits
Caught, locked in tights cells of you,
I wound up the cotton reel, mending
the holes of doubt, and arching my
back, I purred along the wall, side stepping
sharp sabotage, where blood spurts,
cuts split their sides, dropping droplets
reddened and dark, stains of a thousand
prints, their script to prevent access.
I borrowed a moment from the street
sellers cart, persisted that I would not
sell him out, that the ground was solid
under my feet, bolt upright, proof
I sang my belief, like a bold penance,
scenes where money would cross palms
of one asking for more, a bowl held high,
armed with charming smiles. their half
beliefs studying my every transparency,
the guttural deluge swiftly passing me to
sewered excellence, tugging my heels,
entwining shoe laced lies. And how I
would fail, unable to shift the showcase
of my life. But, suckered under
the slip stream, I gargled the depths
while you made space for my spewing
May 14, 2013
May 14, 2013 at 11:07 AM UTC
Love is so sweet,But your love is so sour
You created a potion of love and you suckered me into drinking it
Now all I feel is the sour feeling of loving you
Your sour love entrapped me and won't let me go
Tell me the antidote so My love may be sweet once more
Apr 25, 2011
Apr 25, 2011 at 2:24 PM UTC
With Ma Lil **** Dill
one bilabial fricative smacking
tongue thrusting (lizard like)
indefatigable prelapsarian
Garden of Eden dwelling primate
doth pine with two lipped treating zest
for Eve fun juiced a tasty droplet, wrest
ting kitty meowing Mz er loo,
sans verboten fruit Yukon die vest
via jump starting
a hovering damn
electric kool aid acid test
Hair and there, a bare naked lady attired
in her birthday suit, the sexiest
plump ***** roseate
sear suckered ******* trickling milky nectar
when casting shadowed umbra at rest
thirsting, unleashing, vaunting,
et cetera viz prurient quest,
whereby this rambunctious
***** bull lever severely oppressed
condemned with life sentence
of ****** solitude, nest
souled (sorely testing
agonizing Victorian modest
tee primly and properly
tortures carnal temptation lest
surrendering syllabus "C" ) even jest
a jot, cuz tis pure torture restraining
feral, hormonal, integral hankering
to stoke libido at Parochialism be hest
thus, aye feel unfairly deprived,
no hello kitty will be guest
unsure how helpful "getting off my chest"
works thee unnatural tethered
****** suppression, perhaps best
left unmentioned, encumbered
with jiggly, flabby droopy breast
works, and unwanted love handles
state of reined swiftly tailored
harried stylishly groomed
FitBit bridled uncertainty I attest.
Jun 11, 2018
Jun 11, 2018 at 10:00 PM UTC
Bees once buzzed.
In summer sun.
Spirited souls.
Skirted over flower beds.
Their gift of honey.
Sweet creation.
Sipped mead with thee.
Sampling in contentment.
On the riverbank.
Where willows once wept.
And children still cried.
A soldier of fortune.
Passion abroad.
Vows of love written.
In blood.
A eulogy to thee and me.
Claret sparkled.
Dripping from unholy tongue.
Drinking in the moment.
A vampire.
Hidden from the sun.
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Nov 12, 2013
Nov 12, 2013 at 4:36 AM UTC
all of the people I barely know
having new boyfriends, babies, cars
the loves of their lives,
the ones they cannot live without
replaced yet again
crashing their shiny cars into ditches
and returning to the auto dealers
to get suckered into another contract
with debt
with RIGHT THIS INSTANT!
I will not have that with you
we will withstand the lows
and climb higher than the highs
digging our heels into the ground
until we've made a permanent safe place for ourselves
for our love
for our sanity
for social media to gawk at
again and again
and again
Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 at 12:08 PM UTC
Oscar the Octopus lived in a tank
at the centre of Monterrey.
He drew in the crowds with legs suckered proud
as they pressed the glass open mouthed.
He took back his legs when he heard them scream and bowed to rapturous applause.
He reigned supreme but they hadn't yet seen
Medusa's glowing legs next door.
One Thursday in June Oscar changed his tune
As he heard a sound from above.
He took off his crown when he saw floating down
A beautiful gay sea horse.
With eye lashes long and singing a song
From the trumpet that was his nose.
The lyrics he heard sounded absurd
About the joy of having curled tails.
He danced for his guests as Oscar digest
they came to see a new show.
A man who gives birth is surely well worth
A pause to watch them being squeezed out.
Oscar was seen by a few in between
the eyes that easily marvel.
When they tapped on the glass he fell on his ***
As he tried to curl all his tails.
Oscar the Octopus lived in a tank
At the centre of Monterrey.
When the crowds didn't come his stage time was done
And they served him to staff on a plate.
Feb 18, 2017
Feb 18, 2017 at 6:23 AM UTC
*On a fateful day, the ‘Establishment’ sought volunteers
Not wanting to be out done by my vying peers
My hand went up and - all said ‘three cheers’
I thought I’d soon be handsome like Richard Gere.
Thus in the lab began the genetic engineering
A needle here, a chop there and additional gearing
The docs remorselessly toiled on me
Treated me like a zombie I could see.
“Success! Success!” was their sudden shout
I looked down and could see a sprout
I said “what’s this, I am half a tree?”
They said ‘silly’ from human ******* we set you free.
Alas! Instead of ‘Richard Gere’, they left me with roots
As a tree now, I go where I please without boots.*
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 12:09 PM UTC
Xenophilias most beautiful attributes, where countries become as one, wunderkinds where thunder shines, vivid heroes of hot day's sun!
Will-call merchandise traded for disregard, where tags are hung on branches, as newly weds drive old cars! Licensures practice giveaways freely. Are we suckered into believing old wives tales? Lidocaine pick up lines to be accustomed to man to Man life tables!
Lieutenancies so vacantly are closed to high file cases, where concentrated faces smile!!! Young daughters are made for ruin while the cruel oil stays piled!!!
Maturate littlest of seeds, where gokers cook to perfections... Prospire of direction where the arrows pointing down.
Mazarine eyes, a chancer of fairest lies, I miss the caressing of the small talk you lay on me lover!!!!sister,sister are you of your own brother?
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 3:35 PM UTC
He went ashore with the duty crew
The moment they got their leave,
And headed home for his two by two
And his waiting Genevieve,
He wore his official navy rig
With the medals on his chest,
Had taken pains that his suit was clean
And his blue jean collar pressed.
He followed the crazy paving that
Led up to his cottage door,
Could only see a glimmer of light
A smidgen of light, no more,
A heavy footfall came to the door
And flung it out wide, apace,
While he stood grim, and staring at him
A man with a stranger’s face.
Then Genevieve came breathlessly out
Went breathlessly up to him,
I want you to meet a cousin of mine,
He’s staying with us, meet Jim.
The sailor took a step in the door
And shouldered the man away,
‘I see,’ he said, ‘not seen him before,
I’ll see if your Jim can stay.’
They settled down in the kitchen, sat
Across the table and glared,
While Genevieve had served up a meal
A meal that had been prepared,
‘So who’s your cousin related to,
Your mother’s side, or your Da’s?’
She stopped for a moment then to think
‘It must have been Grandpa’s.’
But he’d grinned over the table then
At Genevieve, this Jim,
And that was the moment the sailor knew
That he’d been suckered in.
‘I don’t think this is your cousin, dear,
But there, I think you knew,
And hit the stranger fair in the face
With a plate of boiling stew.
I think that he scarred the guy for life
For his skin came off in strips,
While Genevieve took a paper towel
And tried to save his lips,
‘Take your mate to the Rose and Crown
And buy him a cooling beer,’
The sailor said, as he cuffed her head
‘For you’ll not be staying here.’
David Lewis Paget
Aug 28, 2016
Aug 28, 2016 at 8:47 AM UTC
I was looking forward
to today.
Because yesterday
had promised that
today was going
to be better...
And easier.
Yesterday is a ******* liar.**
.
Nov 18, 2017
Nov 18, 2017 at 5:17 AM UTC
We play with minds
but the mind plays us
don't use it enough
only when convenient
or when it's too late
when we've been suckered
bamboozled into thinking
too much about nothing
The only reason you are here
is to be composted
Recycled into something
that will in all hopes last forever...
Oct 8, 2020
Oct 8, 2020 at 12:55 AM UTC