"swindlers" poems
I sought satisfaction in stupid sheepishly and shallow strides.
Scared subconsciously, I swallow and sustain substance for pseudo self esteem strengthening.
I seemed of in service to slumber and stinging sadness, shots sank like ships, submerging into the sea of my swarthy stomach in seconds.
I somewhat sympathies as a sailor, sweating, struggling and swimming in slipping sobriety saturated in my sulking style.
Scanning swarms of serial swindlers, striking sculptures stances of self-doubt.
I stammer in a storm of slurs, ******* down my safety, stopping myself at the stoop of the saloon I see a seductive silhouette staging the space.
She stroke my sight, standing sanguine in scarlet, soul sold in high heels.
The smoothest sculptures in seven square miles were subjugated into scree and I was ****** in submission.
Stubborn staggering suitors, stand shaking silently as she is stopped by sharks stalking and snarling sycophantics.
So straightforward in suggesting their secret starvation to strip sensations, seem by seem, like a sub-par **** cinema scene.
They step and speak short.
She smokes off, stranding the scree in smoldering slaughter.
Its sad this soul-less sanctuary soaking up sorrows.
So self inflicting, and so satisfyingly side splitting.
She sported her spurned, scorned off into sadistic solitude and stained sticky stigma, sobbing to sleep.
So spent from simple stocked, stored and supported senescence of ceremonial subjection of ****** status.
I savior my sincerity, and stretched out of this strange stadium of stooges.
So long scarlet sanguine I sang softly, as she stole my sight suspiciously in sync with hers.
Sacrificial seconds split from smearing stolidity to sharing a smile.
That's simple satisfaction, so I seen scripted in sitcoms and shows.
Supporting sapiens in stasis to see sappy stunners on screen, to stare snoopy, as stabs and slashes strike socially into socialites of so called sanity and sovereignty.
To sweetly pay salvage as slaves of soppy studio slander.
Such is this sorry Saturday night, I am solidified in sedation.
Dec 14, 2017
Dec 14, 2017 at 12:00 PM UTC
Tingly under the daisies;
Glassy-eyed, glazed, greasy;
Shaking, shivering, shuddering,
Wishing, wandering, whimpering,
Westernizing—
Romanizing—
Constitutionalizing—
Institutionalizing—
Perpetually searching
And dying
And living,
Watching Death survive
And scythe the frolickers,
The prancers,
The rompers,
The merrymakers.
A rose clamped between his
Grinning teeth glistens brightly,
And he dances so joyously.
“Yes!” say the naysayers,
Confused are the soothsayers,
Lost are the cartographers.
Oh, Utopia!
The monks are extravagant;
The meditations are a farce!
The preachers are beggars
And swindlers and chargers,
And Machiavelli fulfills his wishes!
Babies are stillborn, stabbed, and
Ritualistically sacrificed,
And their blood is spilled, drunk,
Slathered over the ***** man.
The evangelists scream and lie:
“You are all predestined to die!”
Oh, hail Utopia!
Wedded are the girls to the girls;
Wedded are the boys to the boys;
Wedded is Death to Death,
Life to Life,
And Life to Death.
Wedded are the living to the existent.
And the milking babes are slaughtered
Ceremoniously,
Surreptitiously,
Ostentatiously.
Oh, hail great Utopia!
We are all dead and unintelligent:
Laugh, laugh, Einstein, at your
Stupidity.
Laugh, laugh, Temple Grandin at
Your retardation.
Laugh, laugh, laugh!
Look at the sluggard, thou ant;
Look at the boy, sobbing wolf;
Aesop was drunk,
Aristotle was delusional,
Michelangelo was blind,
Beethoven could hear,
Poe was sane.
And I can't read.
They ramble,
I watch.
They sleep,
I watch.
They dream,
I watch.
They sleep-talk,
I watch.
They scream,
I watch.
They choke,
I watch.
They suffocate,
I watch.
Stone-faced, I stare;
Raspingly, I breathe;
Uncontrollably, I twitch;
Inwardly, I rage.
I hope you die, I hope you die.
I hope you bleed, I hope you die.
I want you begging and crying,
I want you blubbering at my feet,
I want you gnashing at my ankles,
I want you writhing in pain,
I want your arm twisted off,
Cracking with the snapping sinews, I want your beating heart in my hands, I want your genitals uprooted and stuffed in your throat, I want your stomach so I can eat the still-digesting food, I want your shrunken head and I want to force my thumbs into your unblinking eyes and I want to tear your face in two and I want you to die, I want you to die, I want you to die, I want you to die, I want you to die, I want you to die, I want you to die, I want you to die, to die, to die, to die, to die, to die, to die, to die, to die, to die and die and die and die and die and die and die and die and die and die and die and die and die and die.
Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 9:47 PM UTC
I hate the city
How you can't see the stars in the sky
How hopes seem to die
How life is a swindlers mind
It's not that the stars aren't there
They just fell, burned out, hidden in apartments
They forgot their worth and so forget to twinkle
Like a black hole
The city swallows every star
May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 3:51 PM UTC
*"Who needs rules? Rules are for fools! I'm the King of the Bees!"
- Buzby, the King of the Bees*
Today the dank atmosphere brought down heavy curtains of fine high thread count cotton a magic carpet ride for a colony of lost bed bugs sturdy and steady so steady and sturdy it crushes my back when it descends down down down to crush the ever loving **** out of me so I pretend to pray
Pretend to pray because all my life I seem to have gotten it wrong they must have wanted more than I could give I couldn't talk to.someone I couldn't see and who who would at least acknowledge that I was being listened jim Morrison loudly proclaimed "YOU CANNOT PETITION THE LAWD WITH PRAYAH" time I thought that seemed pretentious but though I don't doubt the possibility that the LAWD may in his ****** way answer some of those impertinent petitions I a.) don't know those people or b.) slightly resent the fact that he's done so much for swindlers, charlatans, and scammers but never saw fit to send me the super sized blessing we been waiting for
But I was provided for and for that I am grateful tomorrow I'll be dispatched to see the grade school kiddies (just before they get slapped with a handfuls of mercenary stew)
This p
an suffocates
Maybe for the sleepy
A song
"We won't wake up tomorrow
So celebrate
On the ***** blvd
With Lou Reed
Oct 25, 2015
Oct 25, 2015 at 1:02 AM UTC
Cut the forget-me-knots.
Dot the t's and cross your eyes;
My balance is a flight-risk.
I knew swindlers of used expressions,
Their attempts: relentless!:
Plucking and picking at taunt silouettes.
Close calls splintered by tall tales.
I held on by the skin of my teeth.
Swindlers with twisted policies
Racked on the broken back burner.
They got scare tactics
Slipping fast from mal-practice.
We we're born to withstand such turbulance
But just in case- i fasten my seatbelt.
Knees bent and heartfelt,
I render these empty spaces moldable.
Heavy minutes move mountains.
Little boy blue beat the big bad wolf
And balance is always a flight-risk.
(Written 4/12)
Jun 10, 2012
Jun 10, 2012 at 10:06 PM UTC
476
I meant to have but modest needs—
Such as Content—and Heaven—
Within my income—these could lie
And Life and I—keep even—
But since the last—included both—
It would suffice my Prayer
But just for One—to stipulate—
And Grace would grant the Pair—
And so—upon this wise—I prayed—
Great Spirit—Give to me
A Heaven not so large as Yours,
But large enough—for me—
A Smile suffused Jehovah’s face—
The Cherubim—withdrew—
Grave Saints stole out to look at me—
And showed their dimples—too—
I left the Place, with all my might—
I threw my Prayer away—
The Quiet Ages picked it up—
And Judgment—twinkled—too—
Tat one so honest—be extant—
It take the Tale for true—
That “Whatsoever Ye shall ask—
Itself be given You”—
But I, grown shrewder—scan the Skies
With a suspicious Air—
As Children—swindled for the first
All Swindlers—be—infer—
1.2k
***
We’re all in the same Hell now...
The swindlers, the believers,
The cowards, and the leaders.
We’re all in the same Hell now...
Welcome to reality,
Welcome to reality.
It’s nothing personal
You were born mortal.
Heaven watches from the skies
But Hell waits beneath the lies.
What are you going to do?
When you stand and face
The life you chose.
What excuse will you impose?
The devils are laughing
as they welcome you.
They once believed that
they were special too.
(But)
We’re all in the same Hell now...
The ****** the healers,
The judges, and the killers.
We’re all in the same Hell now....
Welcome to reality,
Welcome to reality.
What are you doing with your life?
What are you doing with your life?
Flash back to Sixteen years
Did you relish in their tears?
What’s waiting for you when you die?
What’s waiting for you when you die?
Rich or poor, we don’t care,
The weight on sin will find you here.
Did you really think that
Doing some good things
Would hide all the stains
On your grubby little hands?
(Ha!)
We’re all in the same Hell now...
The victims, the abusers,
The winners, and the losers.
We’re all in the same Hell now...
Welcome to reality,
Welcome to reality.
Wake up! Your not dead.
Get up from your bed.
We’re still waiting,
We’re still laughing,
We’re still watching you.
©vera_anne_wolf
Apr 4, 2019
Apr 4, 2019 at 12:22 PM UTC
Life puts a dent in the armor
It makes someone sour,
Spiteful and rude
The delicate line of life becomes crooked
Swindlers happen
***** drowns hundreds
They are faithless
They speak of pain
Revenge and all that hogwash
They try to call themselves rebels
I think they're just weak
Because they can't handle life
Like the rest of us
Last words to remember:
Be smart.
Be kind.
Be fierce.
Mar 14, 2014
Mar 14, 2014 at 8:40 PM UTC
Count the pauses… count the ums.
Bankrupt sit county sums.
Budget, a fixture, no more than a talking point
Biased ramblers to appoint
Unintelligible doctrine to spout
Fear mongering to tout
Advertisements pair worth to a nine-year absence
And speak of self-mirroring balance
Public workers left without voice
And an inability to promote their choice
A fountainhead meaning proved invalid
Still chattered on about for the sake of the ballot
A demonic man with cat on lap
Spewing forth a **** load of crap
Chosen stance, in promotion of defense
Bankrupting the nation in a swindlers fence
Bound in decision to a blurred spectrum
Loyally stuck brown-nosing a corrupted ******
Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 5:24 PM UTC
a small man dies somewhere
he doesn't make news
they are no news
herds of small men dying everyday.
big men only capture the headlines
big politicians big deceivers
no petty thieves or pickpockets
but swindlers of nations
you are awed by the headlines
the big bold letters
big disasters mishaps
genocide mass extinction
and may miss in one corner
a news of a man of no imprint
a small man's death in small print
*an ill-paid half starved courier
his head crushed by a brick somewhere
not a thief nor a beggar
but looking forever
an address to deliver
going from door to door
with his back breaking loads
on alien bylanes and roads
where someone suspecting him a thief
broke his head with a brick*
the small man in his death
made it to the news
only if you noticed it
from under big prints.
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 12:42 PM UTC
WHEN I HATE U,
YOU BEG ME A EXCUSE;
WHEN I LOVE U,
YOU BE WITH ME;
ALL HAVE BROTHERS,
BUT THEY ARE SWINDLERS;
ARE U A PEST?????
NO, YOU ARE MY BEST.........
Feb 20, 2017
Feb 20, 2017 at 11:42 AM UTC
he's a slippery human being
moving in and out
of passages and doorways
alleys and streets
sniffing and searching
until he finds what he is looking for
the need in him pulls him
to the darkest areas of the city
the dank underbelly
where the bad stay
the connivers, thieves,
con artists, swindlers,
pushers and users
motherless scoundrels
who's selfish desperation
lead them to do the unthinkable
and he is one of them
a snake
who's desire must be satisfied
his insides cooked, brain baked,
blood boiled to give his body a jolt
of hard lined, vein pumped
rapture
this reptile of a man
a mere shell of his former self
will scour the deepest corners
of filth and damnation
to find the cure to what ails him
and by doing so
will offer a short fix
to his broken life.
Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 8:36 PM UTC
the Übermensch anomaly was short-lived
in Europe, it was never going to be an
idea with a survival instinct for longevity
in Europe, just like Copernicus became
defamed by Galileo...
the Übermensch idea was prescribed to America,
what with their Superman and Batman,
and Spiderman... Nietzsche didn't
include America for a reason, you could
speak of Emerson as the zenith of American
intellectual output as the reason,
but that's hardly a reason...
tourists to the Caribbean will know,
Americans think they're super-human...
i hate the American accent, it's like a mosquito
buzzing in my ear, i just call them
the spaghetti swindlers of tongue, gluttonous
harp players... and because Nietzsche didn't
mention America, America is his most fertile
and therefore most arable landmass...
i mean... Nietzsche reached pop culture status,
just because he didn't mention American culture
in his writing... and that's how the Americans
see themselves, the righteous inheritors of
the post-Nazi mindset... Übermensch Staaten Amerika...
hence the reason they're on the gold medal leader boards
at the Olympics... i.e. if those ******* aren't doped
then i'm doped...
not doping athletes makes chemists redundant,
dope the whole lot of them, let's make it fair.
yes, i know it should have been written as staaten,
but i like my diacritical arithmetic, and given the
umlaut, i count that as a hidden extra a... so from
staaten into stäten;
oh yeah... and **** your "perfect" teeth;
or the Penguin cover for Philip K. Dick's
man in the high castle, the red & white stripes
with 50 swastikas.
Aug 18, 2016
Aug 18, 2016 at 8:21 PM UTC
Bears lions tigers, thieves swindlers liars, your soul burns to feed hells fires, but thats not widely known, sorta like the feelings not being shown, a trip to the other side on my own, told me if I respected life I would leave it alone, but this addiction has grown, can't even hear my soul moan, a king being overthrown, what it feels like anyway, waiting on death any day, I'm a lost cause is what so many say, just a nod and okay, followed by whats the next play, and did you know the last called just the other day, told me I could be saved if I would just pray, hung up and threw that book away, I guess I should stop because this isn't making sense anymore, passed out with my soul covering the floor, woke up to death at the door, asked if I knew what was in store, I'm sorry if this is a story you've heard before, I truly do not mean to bore, the vast emptiness in my eyes is something they just can't ignore, I remember when this trip **** was nothing more than a key to unlock the doors in my mind, came stumbling back but sadly I left myself behind, maybe its something I will one day find, but til then its one tripped night after another, for my past sins my future self will surely suffer, started searching for death right after we buried my brother, I know one day my memory will be gone like yesterday, tomorrow isn't promised is what I've heard many say, but I just keep abusing life anyway, waiting on death any day, the root of this madness is quite simple if you would just look, just another page in yet another book, under the weight of the world you never shook, on that cold november night my idol isn't the only one death took, because I was right by his side, told him I was always along for the ride, even after me they still won't decide, the nights I cried, all the times I lied, and after all this time I still haven't tried, but we both know thats not a truthful line, but I swore I would never surrender mine, but I was at such a dark place at the time,
Jul 22, 2015
Jul 22, 2015 at 4:34 PM UTC
The preacher, the politician both the same
Nothing but swindlers spewing specious sermons
Noisome talk from their mouths came
Rapacious hands, oh what vermin!
I, as if compunctious for my fault
Left feeling only surfeited
Fulsome factitious assault
I am left as the convicted
Jun 12, 2018
Jun 12, 2018 at 8:54 AM UTC
I brag about my prowess
But I’m really a big mess.
The truth is I’m coasting
Nearly roasting in the fire,
The one I lit when younger
Full of burning desire
And right down to the wire
I hid, lied, swindled me
Double-handedly, as if
There was a rift between
Myself and the truth.
This was my youth.
I believed lies I was told
If I liked them better than truth;
I was such a shallow youth
And the swindlers could see
When I was coming down the road
They’d load me on with their stories
About what great glories lie
In putting people down so
i could rise as high as the sky
With just a little lie or two.
How easy it was to do;
To lie my way through.
It would be years before
The score would catch me
And ****** me out of my pride
And get me to walk alongside
Those I had walked on, cheated.
At every point I was greeted
With reality standing next to poetry;
The myths that were my story
With very little glory in them.
They were sort of a battle hymn
Of someone who always before
Fought all the wrong wars
And called the dead losers.
Oh, and I was a big ******
Does that explain a great deal?
That I really didn’t feel,
That I was on autopilot
And made sure to deny it;
That *** was my navigator
And hope was an alligator
Just about to consume me.
You could costume me, but
The way I talked and walked
Gave me away, every time.
Lying was my crime, nor was I
All that good at it. I failed;
I went to jail and confession
But none of these sessions
Helped me at all.
My heart was too small.
My pride too tall.
Dec 6, 2016
Dec 6, 2016 at 5:51 PM UTC
taking tea to the Korean old lady's
ghost down the hall; swindlers
living in the attic; ur actual karma
is visible & ur dog gets twenty
years loving children & ur
fallen flower petals; robots killing
robots; coming to stay w/ me
in my true heavenly blue light
shining on one girl's day generation
Apr 6, 2018
Apr 6, 2018 at 5:08 AM UTC