"unscrupulous" poems
Listening ears don't come easy
Most come with mouths harbouring wagging tongues
Pouncing on the chance to retell your story
Exploiting your need to empty acrid lungs
Listening ears, they're indeed very rare
Unidentifiable no matter how well you know
Lurking behind a mask of concern and care
Sweet words employed so your cards you'd show
Listening ears could be just a myth
An idiom to quench the thirst to confide
Listening ears sometimes come with fangs for teeth
Hungering and lusting for your trust and pride
Listening ear, oh why you come with a mouth so foul
Why the cunning trickery and unscrupulous deceit
Kindness as bait, when in fact you prowl
Many none the wiser until they are bit
Listening ear, in you I gave my trust
I bared my innermost and gave my all
Hoped that you'd soothe my ailing crust
Instead you lifted me high only to watch me fall
Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 7:51 AM UTC
My broken pieces are scattered everywhere.
I'm bleeding, pleading for help as everyone just walks past me and over the mess.
I'm screaming.
The crowd is passing, not even glancing.
Fragile girl in this unscrupulous world.
Feb 6, 2016
Feb 6, 2016 at 1:23 PM UTC
Compassion isn't just a word; it is not a sensation or a behavior. Compassion is a moral; it's a standard to uphold and live by. To be compassionate is to show thoughtfulness and to be caring to people. Being compassionate is to extend humanity a second chances, even if they may not deserve it. The kindnesses shown through being compassionate will extent; this kindness, though sometimes hard to find, is always there. To be compassionate is to be human; however, this humanity sowing is not just what the average person sees every day; it is the light in us, and is the best of what we can be. Everybody has times that they are down and just can't get up; the people that are willing to go out of the way to help these people out and bring them up are what I consider compassionate. Showing compassion can do a multitude of good things; these things being a chain reaction of kindness and love or something as modest as a start to a new friendship. Everyone at some time or another will do something unscrupulous; to be compassionate is to forgive these misdeeds and to give a second chance, no matter how undeserving they may seem. With compassion up held in society the world truly be a better place. The world would be so much better if everyone set aside differences, greed, the anger, the hatred and war; the world if we just showed a little compassion to the population would flourish and be a truly great place.
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 11:09 PM UTC
She earned the title Nine Days Queen,
But hitherto, she was just Jane.
Just Jane, and she had no idea
That when she married the son of a duke,
A plot was forming around her to steal the crown.
A crown she did not yet wear,
But inherited when the King was gone.
She rose to power instead of Mary or Elizabeth
Through an amended line of succession;
She was never meant to be Queen.
The plots and plans and goals of others
Led to the end of Lady Jane Grey.
Mary conquered the throne with little effort
And Jane was one of many to be sent to death
By the woman history calls ****** Mary.
Nine days was the length of Jane’s reign,
Unscrupulous were her advisors.
Just Jane, she had no idea what she was:
A pawn in the games of those around her,
And she was never meant to win.
Sep 17, 2021
Sep 17, 2021 at 2:24 AM UTC
someone out in cyber-land
might just be
copying a poem which they'll
attribute to their own tee
unscrupulous replicators
have no qualms
on flagrantly stealing the lines
from genuine arms
when they take a fancy
to your brilliance of verse
they'll naff off with all or part of it
and stow it within their purse
piracy is rife around
online writing dales and dells
it's the pilfering of an authentic
author's heart and soul bells
they say that imitation
is the sincerest form of flattery
but an alternate opinion
would say plagiarists are bereft
of an original wordage battery
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 8:15 PM UTC
There is a love that rages here.
A kind that's incredible.
One that's illogical
and addled.
It sees through eyes though blind.
It thinks with mind though insane.
It feels with heart though unscrupulous.
It chooses with thought though reckless.
It is selfish and it wants what it wants.
It doesn't care because everything else
bears little weight.
Inconsequential.
There is a love that surges here.
And we are but...
collateral damage.
Jul 12, 2016
Jul 12, 2016 at 7:12 AM UTC
In this Developed Nation, a 19 year old woman sleeps in a bag in a door way.
In this Developed Nation, a working family of four relies on the local food bank.
In this Developed Nation, grandmothers live on a pittance and die lonely.
In this Developed Nation, my friends use drugs to fill a spiritual chasm.
In this Developed Nation, stateless refugees are kept in cages while processed.
In this Developed Nation, slave labour is abolished, but persists.
In this Developed Nation, the media patronizes and panders to the lowest common denominator.
In this Developed Nation, the unscrupulous employers bulldoze workers rights.
In this Developed Nation, the population is kept divided and ineffective.
In this Developed Nation, ‘I’m not a racist...but...’
In this Developed Nation, black people are stop/searched nine times more than whites.
In this Developed Nation, under four percent of **** reports end in conviction.
In this Developed Nation, seventeen percent of adults take anti-depressants.
In this Developed Nation, suicide is the biggest killer of men under fifty.
In this Developed Nation, children cut themselves to relieve pain.
In this Developed Nation, I’m a snowflake if I care.
What has this Nation Developed into?
Aug 16, 2020
Aug 16, 2020 at 10:41 AM UTC
unscrupulous universe
steeped in illusion and so
electrifiedcrazy
with
infernal edges chafed
against tinfoil stars
bent and
broken.
they make believe that they are beautiful.
unscrupulous people
sharply disillusioned and so
upandoutwild
with
rough edges filed smooth
with makeup and glam
but they're still
bent and
broken.
they make believe that they are beautiful.
understated words
creating an illusion and so
slipperysilverfleeting
with
dark corners coming
alive under the
pretense of fiction
bent but not
broken.
they know that they are beautiful.
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 12:59 AM UTC
Doing unto others
as we do with ourselves,
we manipulate
and conceal.
Power -- poorly understood,
absent autognosia --
seeks gratification
and little else.
Bewitching
and unscrupulous
hypnotic pageantry
holding sway.
A visceral magick
used cavalierly
by vampires
on the hunt.
Rapt in the Promise
of continuity,
the world
watches on.
Feb 12, 2015
Feb 12, 2015 at 1:21 AM UTC
The Spirit Has Given Us Wounds so that the flies may feast on us
The limit has been set by those who infest us with fallacy and hypocrisy.
Those who pull the strings so that they remain kings as their subjects decay.
Those who grab things which belong to all the African kings of today!
“Keep them in the dark, let them not see the goodness of light”, they say.
But I am the light of Africa and I will shine so bright to open up their eyes so that they may shine more than I shine
Africa is not poor, Africa is being looted
Africans are not poor, they are just being cheated.
Bribe is costing our lives as our corrupt leaders misuse our resources
People are dying as the leaders grow fat and untouchable.
Transparency and good governance seems unachievable
Discrepancies of unscrupulous activities surfaces whenever the media starts to deceive
Chorus
Our land and resources are enough to feed and clothes us all
But the land mourns and the waters are bitter because our hearts are sore.
Our silence is tolerance to injustice and violence
They have violated our minds with their dead conscience.
They have desecrated our rights with their dead ignorance
We are all leaders lets dethrone these dealers
They have annihilated those who could bring change because of their arrogance
Chorus
Our land and resources are enough to feed and clothes us all
But the land mourns and the waters are bitter because our hearts are sore.
Kufa nenyota makumbo arimumvura
Honai Baba isu tatambura
Kudya nhoko dzezvironda
Honai Ishe tauyaura
Siyahlupeka!!!!
Huyai mutinunure
Chorus
Our land and resources are enough to feed and clothes us all
But the land mourns and the waters are bitter because our hearts are sore.
Distort the message
Corrupt the masses
Falsify the knowledge
Blindfold the masses
Broad day sacrilege
Sacrifice those who speak out
To satisfy the deplorable desire
And insatiate the insatiable greed.
Chorus
Our land and resources are enough to feed and clothes us all
But the land mourns and the waters are bitter because our hearts are sore.
You Leaders we erected you are smart...
Using our money to fund your reelection processes
As you feed us with promises which are nothing but lies
All the efforts your make are to meet the interests of your pockets
All the votes you take are to increase the weights of your accounts
You leaders we've elected you disgust.
Chorus
Our land and resources are enough to feed and clothes us all
But the land mourns and the waters are bitter because our hearts are sore.
What are we?
A race in need because of those who lead?
A curse on the face of the earth because of our creed?
We are a unique and immortal breed.
We are going to change our heads so that we succeed.
May 17, 2017
May 17, 2017 at 6:11 AM UTC
*There are times when
you are not yourself.
You blend into something
unwantedly & unwillingly.
Something that is
too distant from your
psyche & guise.
The transfiguration makes
you a whole another person,
one beyond your bridle.
But you always hit back to
your archetypal persona.
The endeavor to recrudescence
is always tenacious,
summating unscrupulous inscriptions to your crasis.
People will judge you
on this substructure of your psyche.
But this is not who you are
& what you are!
It is mere an icky phase.
Your elucidation lies beyond
this transfigured self.
Never relinquish your
pristine pneuma.*
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 6:40 PM UTC
My homeland!
You have been watching your crippled borders
with wistful looks for gloomy centuries
Soon we will wipe your bloodred tears
after heroic and holy adventures
Yet you are in a deep disappointment
because of the hands lent to the unscrupulous
But never unlearn the destiny ever:
history is always betrayed,
talents are envied,
virtues are misused...
They love politics, not the history,
'Cause they have a historical fear
and it reminds them how they had been abused...
I have found even their "sumptuous" justice
which is carried in their ***** bulky pockets...
My dear,
It is very near,
In Karabakh, the stars will twinkle in a joy
50 million times I will mention your name
and to Jıdır we will be running bare feet.
The echoes will fill the preconceived ears
In Shusha, I will call you,
In Tabriz, we will meet...
Sep 29, 2020
Sep 29, 2020 at 6:00 PM UTC
With a sunset stormed in all the evils
A creeping temptation to abomination
A swirling appeal to haphazardness
Then came a wild night when i let things go
An ordinary aberration from a chaotic junction
An occasional stray from a lost path
An intentional overlook of unscrupulous mischief
A through misjudgment under ruthless predicaments
With a sobering dawn i found myself
A delusional justification for foreseen consequences
An unconscientious injection of fleeting remedies
A deliberate neglect for recurring failures
A self-inflicted blindness to vindicate oneself from misery
Then it is a calm morning
Though i know that it is all in the history
I cannot avoid the reappearing of the serene night
Whose other side awaits the furious storm to shatter me down yet again
Aug 14, 2018
Aug 14, 2018 at 12:15 PM UTC
You cringeworthy, evil pismire;
Your father did surely miss-sire
This personification of flatulence,
The embodiment of self importance
Overflowing with abject peccancy
Devoid of any sign of respectability
Replete with gross odoriferousness
Horribly and infamously unscrupulous.
You have reveled in misrepresentation
And tried to elevate your calumniation
Disinformation and deception exists
As capitalistic dissembling persists.
You’ve collected an evil government
Built mostly of human excrement
And have such a lack of veracity
That you speak in constant mendacity.
Sycophantic eructations of dogmatic bile
Issue from your unsympathetic smile
And your inauthentic glad-handed gropes
As if we all of us are unbright gullible dopes
That buy your fabrications completely
While you pilfer and prevaricate indiscreetly.
You are a Vaudevillian villain miscast as star,
But most of us know exactly what you are.
Deceit, deception, dishonesty; a tragedy
But not for you, for us and our country.
Distortion, evasion and fabrication the rules;
You despair of any other kinds of tools.
Falsehoods, fictions and forgery are your tricks.
You demand we build with straw-less bricks
Your erections that are planned to be palaces
Filled with your giant golden carved phalluses.
Those monuments, inanotomically correct,
Established to celebrate and somehow protect
A mountebank on the way to an overseas bank
Claiming to eradicate the scoria he creates
That decades of privation will not quite alleviate.
But you, the Great Prevaricator, will always blame
Other players in your sick, unconstitutional game
Instead of admitting your complicity and guilt
About the disgusting, putrid swamp you built.
Jun 13, 2018
Jun 13, 2018 at 2:32 PM UTC
Oh, my beloved, have you thought of this:
How in the years to come unscrupulous Time,
More cruel than Death, will tear you from my kiss,
And make you old, and leave me in my prime?
How you and I, who scale together yet
A little while the sweet, immortal height
No pilgrim may remember or forget,
As sure as the world turns, some granite night
Shall lie awake and know the gracious flame
Gone out forever on the mutual stone;
And call to mind that on the day you came
I was a child, and you a hero grown?—
And the night pass, and the strange morning break
Upon our anguish for each other’s sake!
1.6k
You created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb.
You saw me as a Child of light when i was wrapped, consumed in darkness.
Evil was I when i left her, wicked and unscrupulous.
Yet you kept me, Yet you kept me.
Evil wouldn't leave me it took advantage of a helpless child.
Abused by the hate that is in this world.
Being told evil was good, and accepting the curses of that lie.
Confused, feeling hopeless, growing in a broken home.
Filled with fear, questioned time after time if You were there, Here…
Yet you kept me, Yet you kept me.
Consumed with greed, all i wanted was to be pleased.
Not loving myself, because i wanted to be someone else.
Refusing to see how wonderfully you made me.
I cursed, mocked.
Yet you kept me, Yet you kept me.
Lost and in despair, You called my name, I heard you, I didn't listen.
Parading to be an angel of light, walking the aisles of your sanctuary.
Having the form of godliness but denying its power to change me.
So eager was I, to leave your presence craving for what the world had to offer.
Lusting for sin wanting to fill that gap that was deep within.
Yet you Kept me, Yet you Kept me.
I searched for love, for happiness.
The satisfaction was short lived,
became addictive I needed more, need just a little, needed alot.
Spiraling down, down, down Living with no real hope, totaling my emptiness.
Yet you kept me.
You reached out, you called me again, a clear voice repeating my name.
Telling me its time to change. Change from the way that is vain, vague.
Letting me know u called me to a higher purpose. a place of true love,
Where i can experience the fullness of Joy Happiness Peace.
Despite all I have done, your blood will wash me, make me whole.
Born again, dead to sin, Realizing all the wonders I was truly missing.
Anew, Zealous in Christ, Salvation is so Sweet, Jesus he saved a Wretch like me.
He speaks, He guides, He rebukes All because He Loves me.
Me….Me?...Me.
O Lord yet when i stumble your grace is sufficient for me.
Though I am undeserving.
O lord you have Kept me… You are Keeping me.
O Lord yet when i stumble your grace is sufficient for me.
Though I am undeserving.
O lord you have Kept me… You are Keeping me.
Testimony.
Sep 25, 2013
Sep 25, 2013 at 3:52 PM UTC
born of blood
from a thorn
of a beautiful flower
from the love
of the horned
adorned
in power
cowering
in the vicious
maliciousness
of the constituents
in the deliverance
to my ridiculousness
saw
twisted shapes
and contorting faces
heard
blurred words
displaced
in hateful slurs
of aggression
and i cannot count the cases
in my tasteless confessions
in my reluctant concessions
in my brutal perfection
of my obsessions
imposed against my will
you're supposed to feel
what they do
right?
opposed to killing
for the thrill
but it sometimes
just feels right
shanky gone unscrupulous
shivering
his shimmied
blood on the walls
stuttering stanleys
still silly stringing
calling for candy
but missed last call
and fell to the floor
as Bruno butchered the boar
in a deplorable fashion
a crime of passion
we were hungry
rubbing our tummies
for the honey
of bee hives
jive turkeys
turning to bunnys
for good times
but we were alive
while others were not
fraught with darkling majesty
sparkling at the seraded points
disjointed
in Freudian
ointments
self anointed
as god
standing over
some butchered
brod from abroad
wiping the fog
of dislodged
eye sockets
from my grog
how you get
from there to here
isn't really a fair mirror
on my intention
i meant to
suspend her
just enough
to face f--k
and with luck
strangle her
but she prayed to be ripped down
in her own way
my f--king way
stripped her
of dignity
wimpering
in little cute sounds
who am i?
but the guy
who spaced
hit her
too many times in the face
and replaced her
facelessness
with ***** toiletries
disappointingly
underwhelmed
still in search of a fairy
to take the helm
and ferry me
from this film
disparagingly
just spare me
the tragedy and grief
blaring from the TV
as i mock
their expressions
in my lessons
of humanity
before the flock
to shelter
my anxiety or not
gonna be
a real boy one day
and conform
to the
wayward ways
the way
of sheep
sleeping
soundly
in decay
blue fairy
gonna
marry me
one
day
be
real
one
day
one
day
1
d
a
y
Nov 29, 2012
Nov 29, 2012 at 4:52 PM UTC
Spoken: What is heard
The adornment, gospel truths the pious believers of your personal faith. The Heresy, the voice of those you’ve ******
Spoken: That which can not be taken back
Your frivolous certainties had no hold but now frame our reality because they are always in the peripheral only seeing what it allows you
Spoken: half truths
The victimized, the wronged, the offended just to validate unscrupulous act to those who have wronged you.
Spoken: White lies
The coddling which breeds an ignorance for the knowledge of decorum, decorations and vails to hid behind
Spoken: That which the universe asserts
That which the universe listens to, vibrations that it assimilates making it part of the whole without losing its agenda
Dec 28, 2017
Dec 28, 2017 at 12:48 PM UTC
I would like to string all bankers up the nearest tree
Conning the public for years then given our money for free
I would like the bankers to experience severe dental pain
Maybe attach a rope to their feet and pull them behind a train
For their unscrupulous demeanour, disposition, debauchery and dispensation...
they deserve the spinal column removal and vasectomy operations.
Jul 27, 2014
Jul 27, 2014 at 8:46 PM UTC
Who the whole truth fails to reveal,
Who pertinent facts do conceal,
May not in truth a liar be
Though are truly untrustworthy;
Unscrupulous, devious, sly,
Dishonest, though they tell no lie.
Aug 12, 2016
Aug 12, 2016 at 4:48 AM UTC
The unscrupulous cavalry shuffled aboard narrow lanes,
Cutting in line towards Jager Bomb's tether,
Cluttered duffel bags concealing cheap champagnes,
Passing cruise ship commuter's ruffled feathers.
With their fake, "excuse me's" en route to the bar,
Coercing the conductor who's been under the weather
With smug smiles and counterfeit Cuban cigars.
Leaving the harbor three sheets to the wind
The cowards commandeered Grandparents pool chairs,
A little past midnight with no foresight of end,
An abrupt brawl broke out, fists flying through air.
A sightseeing whale trip turned into a ship from hell,
The assailants now held in a South of Wales cell.
May 2, 2018
May 2, 2018 at 12:07 AM UTC
From the cradle to the grave
We're manhandled and manipulated
Manoeuvred like chess pieces
Arranged in columns, in statistics, in order
Our worth is determined by skilful orientation
Influenced by others, employed by others, used by others
Faceless, nameless, featureless, utilisers that
Make sure we are kept within our boundaries
Yet, all these words have one thing in common MAN
Unscrupulous influence unfairly deployed
Ensure that our managed manhandling is exploited by the MAN.
Apr 18, 2014
Apr 18, 2014 at 5:42 PM UTC
It seems to me,
That we live oh so,
Vicariously
Dreaming up hypotheticals
Without ever leaving the windowsill.
A stand-still, if you will.
What good is a man's word
if most of the feelings go unheard.
Unable to project outwardly into the world they think they know.
Whether real life or fantasy
I believe
That the collective extent of imagination, is me.
Or at least part.
How lost is a man, whose demeanor shows no heart?
One beats, but one seeks passionate adventure right from the start.
How will he know of the ecstasy that lives within you and me?
Maybe we should go up to him and hug him, enchanted by electricity.
Synapses fire
But the soul flows.
Breathe deep,
Watch the seed of hope grow
Tomorrow never knows,
Now may be all we have
Let's let go,
It pains me to see you sad
Changes are the strangest,
Yet a fascinating constant.
Go in your own direction,
Before you wonder where everyone went
You've made a dent but cant prevent
The relentless ambush of signals
Steering you away.
It's hard, I know it is.
Be the light to shine your way,
and stray from the unscrupulous.
The times burned are lessons learned,
Take charge of that which you've yearned.
The ingredients are there, you just have to stir.
Share the fruits of your labor
To the open, closed,
The in-betweens,
And those yet to be exposed.
The spirit is stronger than
Our brains currently interpret.
Inside the insight is where we undoubtedly flourish.
Let's please,
Feed each other if we're malnourished
Let the emotions come to the surface,
To break free and find our purpose
Don't be nervous, show no fear.
We all pass on,
But we're always here.
I just feel we must leave a legacy,
That won't disappear.
Reincarnated to influence
and reproduce love.
In my absence, I've still got your back
From the cosmos above,
within, and all around.
We can never stop the learning process, while handing out all we've found.
Symmetrical symphonies without even making a sound.
..So we'll let the soundtrack to existence play..
But remember,
Every word becomes a part of the experience,
Even that, which you do not say.
Aug 25, 2013
Aug 25, 2013 at 5:47 PM UTC
I swear with my hand on the heart
[mine, another’s]
that I know nothing
that I get on the train on my way home
and come off at some Glasgow terminal
that I write on my shopping list b r e a d
and rush through my front door with stolen roses
nowhere is written for how long, until when
but I hear your words climbing my body
like spiders the wonderwall
like ivy the cross
[mine, another’s]
I know nothing
and no book will be able to tell
how a hand is covering your mouth
and the screaming inside yearns for your body
like an unscrupulous *****
like ivy for the cross
[yours, ours]
Jun 12, 2012
Jun 12, 2012 at 3:02 PM UTC