"swindling" poems
.
***Ancient games
tell tales of dust. ||| A story drawn
from the lips of two poets.***
~~~~~
It's the wits that **** not Queens of ivory or ***ink. ***
Charged with coal strokes, scraping up the lies.
Pawns & Knights slip between the grasp of the sun, leaking into* lion jaws of Leo.
Shifting these granite plates, ignoring the Rooks common price of aslant.
Here we have slain kin, crescent traitors that backstab the night and battlefield.
Closed doors and trap floors, trade me a tie, swindling your tactic ruts.
Reality never got the noose around our necks, check turned into manslaughter, and kingdoms ripped asunder by the roar of Jupiter
Get up, get up, get away from these liars, they can't have your rank or your fire.
Peak a notion, this match is spared by a luft.
Toss away the pride buried 'neath your dusty skin, it don't matter no more if death has you by the lips.
Silence is a language too in our eyes of earth.
Take my hand, knott your soul into this downfall, and brace yourself for the wreckage in our bones.
The Sword of Sorrows will fall 'pon your shoulders, not to slay thee, but to dub thee a new day.
The drums of war will knit the lyrics in the sky,
singing:
"The mighty sharpen their fangs, the weak sharpen their wisdom"
~~~~~
I'm tired of your wishbones, and golden scales, give me the hard-earned truth.
Hot coals of honesty may you tread upon, shadow-bitten remorseful may you be, don't stray off the course of Ursa major.
The North star isn't the one I follow
It's the moon with all of it's phases,
Eclipsing and crescent, tipping the sky with it's beauty.
Now let this sink further than any soul has ever sunk,
no man could ever
*rule the moon.
~~~~~~
***Shoot on command,
C
h
e
c
k
m
a
t
e***
~~~~
You could drag me to hell and back and those words wouldn't mean anything.
Let this downfall become a downfell,
Because last I checked
"Wolves worship the moon"
and I have broke it's reflection in the water
*Just
by
throwing
s
t
o
n
e
s
.*
.
Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 3:19 PM UTC
swindling the air of its delight
using Cannabis pipes,
i have never written high
i finally understand why,
pen to paper
all i can write "cigarette break",
cannabinoid receptors
putting my mind on brink,
My feet get heavy as i start to float
my stress anchors me down,
like a twinkling eye of a magpie
drawn to the red sparks of the spliff,
Grilled,
Baked,
chasing the magic dragon.
Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 3:00 PM UTC
Petals of paper
for a stature svelte.
An opxum core.
Swindling willow
waltz upon a stage.
Tethered by the same roots.
A ***** moon,
an ascending tide.
Longing lovers without passports.
Army of emerald soldiers
seduced by ruby gypsies.
Ashen by a kiss.
Clumsy hearts vitrified -
never worn on sleeves.
Await a hummingbird.
Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 3:13 AM UTC
Two inconnu sheathed within sight of one moon
Betwixt embers'and uppers consumed by whom
Two nocturnal allies have each exhumed
By Caffeine and Adderall's swindling tomb
And Nicotine's cluches; an imbibing room
He can't spell
I can't speak
Parallels
None bespeak
He's got canines and relatives
To replete empty spots
Whilst a book full of lies
Keeps my soul ersatz.
Feb 18, 2016
Feb 18, 2016 at 5:52 AM UTC
Urdhva Hastasana
Salida del sol.
Her paws are bare
Ablaze against the black stone heat of the morning stroll
Pausing for the last monsoon, whispering
Salut?
There would not exist consequence for a dampened nose of pusillanimity
Carelessly drawn to the astrophysical realm of celestial bodies
Illuminating the chivalry once more.
We'll sing chansons
Oh cabaret!
The circumstance and pomp eliding
Lavishly rouged lips from sterling glances
Exposed by the slow and sultry raise of copper eyes
Premeditated, so that they lift in perfect timing
Beneath dark lashes to seem accidentally mesmeric.
I still lose amethysts
They drop from the back of my ears unexpectedly
Their plunge of contact against the water
Catches my attention but no more
Of a thought should surface except to surface
The stones from the depths pooling around my ankles.
The rain won't drain and hasn't for months
She scratches her hair but the pining never stops.
I rub her ears so she'll display such an ardor
Revealed in company and solitude simultaneously
To be weighed and doubted and accepted and declined
Beneath the stony gaze of the eyes of a god
Swindling a wrinkle in the shower curtain.
Alas what a shame it is
Besitos aren't quite fancied here.
Ne prennent pas garde aux berceaux, Que la main des femmes balance.
Puesta del sol.
Jul 26, 2013
Jul 26, 2013 at 7:52 PM UTC
"The Swindle", is a possible escape plan in order to divert attention completely away from the VAST majority of preying eyes!
"Why!?" And..."why now question it...?" Whatever the situation, you need to be wary of totally undivided attention...,since you are not alone...of an obvious disguise (upon an even more obvious "swindling" act).
May 13, 2021
May 13, 2021 at 9:53 PM UTC
Your eyes are very unfaithful,
A swindling ******* you are.
You bereft me of all that light,
A dwingling light you were..
Youth had enticed me closer,
A cheating partner stabs me...
Oct 15, 2016
Oct 15, 2016 at 3:22 AM UTC
Sometimes, if I try, I hum between the tumbling
Hills of the world bracing domesticated beasts.
They graze and grunt all over again,
Entering slumbers following the daily sweep
Of lactic creeks, thin enough to guide tree roots.
Dusk is explained by the party of two, embracing the dividing sun.
Look left to see coral reef skies swim attempting to grasp what is to the right of the Sun:
Silhouettes outlining prayers flattening dimensions of rugged Mosques
Still dusty from wheat flour and patterned by uncooked lentils, that
Slipped through missing seams of Burlap, blackened from the hearth
Malleable as a result of dependency.
Though only half of my sight functions, I reason that
Earth shifts without you. Watching centuries and some odd
Years of changes, I yearn to know where you have gone.
I peer from the peacock’s tail, feeling the pulse of the
World tick away as the fearless pray to someone new.
Your countenance, I interlaced with feathered fingers
Depicts movements, curves. A shame to be without
Language to fill the contours of a nebulaic expression
Or swindling modifications.
You put me here. My eyes anyway.
Expecting me to retire along with buildings for your worship
Powdery paint has spilled and faded along with
Others who have modified your appearance, their someone new.
Even as the shadows swells
A million replicates of Io, moo and sway home, tired from the
Beating sun, to which eyes remain fixed.
One momentary memory visits.
Vision simulate traces of wonder, travelling on
Pathways believed to be conquerable. The people have learned
What I have not. They pause, breathe.
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 1:32 PM UTC
Ripples of water, reflections of the night sky
and inflections of why, words came but all authors’
pens dried and faltered, moments of the divine
lost to the sacrilege of time, feeling came but altered.
Darkness came and surrounded,
confusion came and confounded,
as deep as valleys, as tall as mountains,
heartbeat in chest pounded.
Little lamp lead the way, the end is not today.
Tomorrow will come and stay, so do what I must to stay
a lit by this gentle flame, as all of will not be in vane.
I said aloud in a moment of panic to stay sane.
But time came and the light did not falter,
faith grew in this little, little light of mine,
and it grew to shine without any signs of alter.
Hope flickered as the flame stayed a lit on the twine.
Alone and afraid, frayed rope dwindling
burning as vibrant kindling, however closer did it fade
luckily in the darkness laid, countless stars swindling.
My heart rejoices as I have made it to the rekindling.
No longer alone, no longer afraid
pulse dropped, pounding stopped
the stars came and a lit my flame
I need to thank them all by name.
As I laid staring up at the stars,
feeling so small and alone on Mars,
I forgot all of the people who have came
who shared their soul and flame.
I hope I can keep being your flame,
and a piece of yours mine.
Days will be dark and dreary,
but shine on and shine forth into the night.
Mar 25, 2021
Mar 25, 2021 at 12:03 PM UTC
He was truly indebted
to my hyposmia,
As perhaps without it,
I could have smelled
That swindling, two-timing
Lying son of a *****
Nov 4, 2018
Nov 4, 2018 at 6:22 PM UTC
On the phone and in a row boat...
It was there for the taking and they took it. Love lust and warm em-brace.
Faces in the dark whispers joy intellect speaking miles upon miles- they were the ******
To change a generation and build upon past memoirs notations poetry prose literature - swindling no one. In the deep they did swim
In the deep they did swim to find each other
In the deep they did swim breaking into paper huts and liquor bottles
In the deep they did swim
INVENT- INVENT -INVENT!
In the deep they did swim casting away the structures that were built for them- but not by them
In the deep they did swim live wires of truth justice perseverance principles
In the deep they did swim
What of Whitman! What of Geoffrey Chaucer!
What of social demand!
In the deep they did swim with no thirst for consequence
In the deep they did swim for life's love eroticism passion of words
In the deep they did swim
...for the beat generation
Jul 15, 2015
Jul 15, 2015 at 10:14 AM UTC
s'whine flew round the earth
sowing devastation
swindling scared
the po or stupid
buy math e mat i call
bait & switch
the vir us slipped
in two
the slop
infecting
yo ungold
stomachs trem bling
ay
king for
some
thing
humane
a gain
Dec 2, 2011
Dec 2, 2011 at 2:18 AM UTC
Division is the tool to try
when all you want is fear.
They relish that we're paranoid,
and thrive upon our tears.
Hoping we'll turn our anger out
and rise in arms to strike
at those whom we can hate and doubt
at those we don't look like.
It fuels those who would aim for more,
those whose scruples are unjust,
those who seek a favoured war,
with trepidation and broken trust.
Mislead and swindling Holy writ,
coercing faith to poisons tool.
With hope from those so full of ****
must gain endearment from the fool.
Whatever your religion be
don't let them speak in your name
cause then the light we'll never see
and they will win their game.
Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 8:47 PM UTC
Unspool your foggy self-
importances and seize the sheer, visceral present,
or simply ladle and spoon
the strait and narrow. Truth skims
the surface of the mind's eye -
immediacy and brutality (always your specialties)
are to be expected, even pursued,
the loosening of mind and its swindling of body
sifted under opportunistic eyes.
(I imagine tragedies rolling like marbles in your ivoried hands).
Sep 25, 2012
Sep 25, 2012 at 8:34 PM UTC
the edge of green,
egress — conscious permission
of some inundation or cataract
and the raucous facelessness
of passing figures. army melancholia
in situ — past greens of dread
and red, some blue of course (in
dapple of sunlight bordering
sublimities)
i submit to its silence and no longer
ponder its requisites. draped
by fog, helm of pines. the zigzag of
deliverance swindling the disposable
line of fast-paced time-hover.
there's no god here. only the
wind, the trellis surmising a component
of nothing and happening,
and all ephemera cycling across
seasons forever changing and their
obsolescence of ways to retain their
positions until air frizzles
no
longer
than a bated breath.
Nov 6, 2015
Nov 6, 2015 at 10:31 AM UTC
An Old Oaken Bucket full of *****
Swindling me from a spindle of rope,
Sloshing with every cup I fill
to the brim, topped with a savory foam.
I dip into the treasure on most
weekend nights with a blurry sight,
the least bit of fright, and a cup
that screams “Let’s have some fun, alright?”
I carry that cup with a sense of pride
every trip I make to fill it with *****
Too many round trips have lead to
a massive amount of mistakes made.
Being out too late, because nothing
good ever happens after midnight,
Locking lips with random women
and not re-calling any of them.
Convoluted conversations about
the string theory or religion, trying
to sound smart while I slur my words,
I successfully fail to make sense.
I’ve learned the circle of life revolves
around learning, so, how can I learn if
I never make mistakes and play it safe?
Safe to say, I’ll never make that mistake.
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 3:12 PM UTC
Pointless.
Arrogant ****
Have you been plotting?
I surrender my soul.
And receive honest unscrupulous agony.
I'm paralyzed in terrible vindication:
You're a swindling hypocrite.
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 2:58 PM UTC
I wish to leave you with this—
the passionate preamble of a post-pubescent
rabble-rouser with red ringlet
curls, cascades of casual
looks looming through the locks
that hide her harrowed hands
gripping the sides of her face.
"You, young lover
you, angel in the dark stage
you, wanting woman
waiting while we wash
our hands of this mess
of living breathing beauty.
You are me
and I am falling asleep at the wheel."
She sheds, shines
careless crimson
over the outside door,
twisting the tight tendons
of her frustrated neck,
spine spinning, swindling,
trying to trick me into saying,
"I will, I do."
I don't. I wont.
Her hand holding hands
lays latent in loud laughs
dies in the demon drunk night.
Aug 28, 2013
Aug 28, 2013 at 3:03 PM UTC
¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯
Our World
Is our delicate time and space;
it drains us, yet sews
all its wisdom in lieu.
As an honorable thief,
does it give and it take;
yet, the World, it refuses
to learn or give due.
The World dons scarves
as dark as the night
as to peddle its eye
round a vanity, fair.
These beautiful veils
of deceptive insight
do shamelessly shade
the reality there.
And, so, the World speaks
a fallacious demise,
and helpless are we
but to learn for a season.
So, painfully teething,
oft made is the choice
that's ironically borne
by the curse of it's
R E A S O N .
Our Life
it is fickle, and its hurdles, astute,
are hidden from sight,
lest we brace for an err.
Erectors of kingdoms
and heroes of lore
have knelt in submission,
though truly, they bear
as successors of wisdom;
and, hashing the mind
will lessen their fears
and their Love beatify.
For, whereas our Love
will instill in us purpose,
this World, of its greed
shall indemnify.
Blind to this study
are those who are jaded
by a constant
societal scrutiny—
what spawns of a whisper,
one so oft mistakes
as factual precept
or a mystery.
And, as nature's allowed,
through the pain of what's seen,
born of this mindset's
a fear that
M I S L E A D S .
Our Fear
can be weakness or a tool to enlight,
and those of the weakness
shall suffer the blitz;
the absolute's waning
shall surely bevex
such disdaining and hopeless
a reckless dismiss.
Misplacing this fear
makes a host most deranged
and the doorway to
failure falls wide.
The fear of critique,
and of silence and death,
all are but wrought
of the fear of one's life.
For lesser is known,
such siring mistrust,
though, all but uncommon, herein.
And, those who fear
are as ignorant sheep,
but those who do not
fall astray to the spin.
Yet, let ignorance be noble;
for denying Love's endeavor
be ****** as boiling waters
F O R E V E R .
Our People
fall short of the brilliance of babes
to pursue a suggestion—
a swindling so grand.
So, of what mystic gall,
so bold to demand,
has the World to serve
as the Heart of man?
The wise do not place
fear in death or the World;
they take solace in faith
and fear not this affair.
Their fear has been placed
in the face of greatness,
relieving an ignorant
soul of despair.
For only in death
is there absence of question,
and far beyond crossing
will peace enrobe the wise.
So, sharpen your motive
and look to the skies;
for alongside the answer,
therein, lies the
R E P R I S E !
Aug 20, 2015
Aug 20, 2015 at 3:08 PM UTC
Plenty of reasons why
I never did the things I thought about
So many fast fact distractions
Swindling dwindling matter of facts
Talking swish backs flashing rat finks
Drinking pint after pint
Never having to think
The great Deluge warning sign
As the outside neighbor's pine
Is roaring red holding tight to dread
Buddy Guy roaring wild whistling mad young as a child
I'm sitting her wondering
When I'm going fishing?
There is no doubt in my mind
That I could die tomorrow
And few would hang their head in sorrow
I'm not saying I need people's recognition
Or other's to woe and sow fields of tears for me
But I wanna meet that one lady that I never caught
Or that other guy that still owes me a buck
Catch a fever in the middle of the night
And not have a soul around me to make me feel alright
Maybe it was the chill of the winters night that got me down
Or maybe I closed my youthful ears so I couldn't hear a sound
And maybe tomorrow I'll still be feeling this low down blue
But I know in my mind there ain't nothing else I can do
Somehow these roads continue on to places unknown
Scatter brained and worn out
My brains on it's final bout
But I still trek on alone or with some stranger anew
These are lonesome roads we will walk
Sometimes even when your feeling blue
Too many ideas to write down with a body that can't keep up
Inject it straight, hang to ********** don't ever be late
Fortifying my fortititudes till the last drop is gone
Praying properly to a God that I ain't ever met yet
I know that I'm losing, I know I owe'em a bet
Forever sloshing like a naked horse in the mud
A pig swirling elegant like, a breaking portrait of majesty
Noted for their disgusting epic superiority
Fervor in flames that jump like frogs from pad to pad
200 men and women flee just trying to be
Human efforts of conviction born anew
Pulling their souls through the burning coals
Mar 16, 2011
Mar 16, 2011 at 8:59 PM UTC
Someone has restricted my wrists
Trapping me with iron chains and roughened ropes
Chafing a sour burn on me when I struggle
Trickling a harsh burn on my membrane
Intensified by the comprehension that I’ll never feel her touch again
Someone has shoved a *** of socks down my throat
Trickling the ever sour bile taste down my esophagus
Tarnishing my tastes permanently with the substance
Choking my breathing tubes with a surfacing lodge of *****
Worsened by the reality that I’ll never taste her lips on mine again
Someone has leaked chloroform inside the room
Smelling its’ vague yet distinctively sweet scent
Expanding in my nostrils the substance is
Rising to suffocate me with its scent
Knowing I’ll die with this scent in my senses instead of her’s
Someone has planted a speaker within these walls
Echoing replays of her voice in my mind
Rerunning the sound of her hysterics
Driving nails into my eardrums
Lodging the knowledge that I’ll never hear her laughter again
Someone has placed
Disorientation in front of me
Swirling confusion and vague pain
Swindling my common sense down to nothing
Masking the sharp feeling that she always gave me
May 30, 2011
May 30, 2011 at 8:27 PM UTC
Kingdoms more,
Kingdoms sore
Passing the guards—
Like busting bars
Riddles compact— From the numbers,— Etched in Hollow Blocks
The fact of goners—
Hit the doors,— and punch the backs— In hied, to navigate the tracks—
To boost out— Parts.
Steep lands embed this twisted wanderer—
Aches the leaves and humps— Pushing to slouch
As I beg the ground— Not to pound—
For the planes to switch rounds.
Offsprings declined the measures— of luxuriant wands
The caverns feed the infant's boredom
Does hold the dome—
For loitering dogs
An insatiable ****
That climbs for ripe fruits—
And wildly shouts— The beggar's principles
Here and there— Values— Then eats apples.
The weathering turned the rocks to dust
I must— crumple my tasks
Ah, the shallows..
On search for walloped hearts— Of shortened wage;— Of weak grips
Oh, I thirst for distance
Lay down barks! Lay down!
**** the shallows!
God, oh God,—
Is this the penalty for swindling clemency?—
Just crumbs..
Just crumbs..
For open mouths..
Oh, why they broke it?
Face down,— I crawl to this warmth
They fade..
So I kneel for a while— With curved points— To the unknown shore
What beauty relies from there?
I am bandaged by whipped words
Tell the pending men— Of my bare tense..
Sigh and sigh..
The sand and seaweeds
Caressing the voyager's rest
Refresh the bonds of East and West—
From the rise and fall— Of Sailors' flow
Collide the surfers— With tentacles of Immortality!
The commands of Tides—
Emerge a Hurricane— to blow its treasures— with the Strakes!
Alas, the whales jump—
Splashing with the crystals
I know now..
The vast,— This is my Wealth— My True Luxury
My Kingdom calls me..
I shall embrace my prize..
I swim the bottomless Abyss..
They landed on my spot—
With only slacks on sand—
And the surface reads—
"Hah, I'm Rich Now!"
May 25, 2020
May 25, 2020 at 3:16 AM UTC
this Overwhelming Reality
consistently returns
It's tied me to the stake
forcing me to question my fatality
coaxing
then scolding
I let It dictate
the voice in my head never learns
like a broken record-relentless never on break
querying my morality
why do I find comfort in these Chains?
pertinaciously handing me the lighter
dousing me in oil I gaze with no concerns
I've clogged up all the drains
content on no longer being a fighter
it's too late
the demons are infesting me
my mental is drenched in propane
swindling they claim to "make my future brighter'
cut down my ferns
only a piece of me remains
so I devour the lit match out of pure desire
oh I'll gain a light alright
in and out of frames
I'm losing sight
my eyes-the first to feel the burns
imaginary tears smother the flames
the demons run and take flight
won't be long for they'll return on another night
this Overwhelming Reality
consistently returns
Nov 29, 2017
Nov 29, 2017 at 10:01 PM UTC