Best Conspirator Poems
My world changed so fast
that it caught me off guard.
I never thought I would see,
the hate and pervasive bigotry
that exists in the world today.
And then, the internet came along
and shrunk the world to fit in your phone;
opening doors that were once closed.
But, at the same time
supplied every kook, grifter, charlatan, and conspirator
festering on the fringes of society, a bully pulpit;
to cater to a select audience of like-minded trolls.
Corruption, fear-mongering, peddling lies
and alternative truths,
are entrenched in our government,
entertainment, and news.
World War Three, which was once unthinkable,
is gaining favorability with the masses;
fueled by cultist propaganda and doomsday bravado
that spreads like a virus on social media platforms.
We are polluting the land, poisoning the oceans,
and brainwashing the minds of our youth;
without any regard for the truth.
I remember a time when people didn't lock their doors:
neighbors greeted one another with smiles and waves.
But today, I fear that we've been caught in the worldwide web
of a technological spider's electronic threads,
and sooner or later, we will be eaten.
Whisper to me little one
as the waves break on the shore
and brings the mysteries of the deep
with her haunting memories fore
Whisper to me little one
as the wind changes her pace
Her howling scream then silent still
keeps tortured cries encased
Whisper to me little one
of all lost grains of sand
ever seeking their way home
but scattered by human hands
Whisper to me little one
as the sun intensifies her heat
yet cannot melt with all her warmth
the coldness of defeat
Whisper to me little one
and do not feel aghast
Be not conspirator with this world
nor keeper of the past
Whisper to me little one
and share with me your fears
the secrets of your sufferings
the hidden controlled tears
Whisper to me little one
for unlike the wind and sea
I'll offer arms of comfort
and the words to set you free
Whisper to me little one
for each grain of sand is mine
thought lost none can destroy you
who was held by the Divine
Now hold on to me little one
as buried nightmares rise
and with distinctive form and shape
is revealed before your eyes
But as you look my little one
forget not that I say
"You're stronger, well learnt, and my love,
will ever guide the righteous way"...
Darkness my forbidden lover
I shall let light go
Shamelessly deeper fall
Into limbo's arms; seductress
Allow cold breath and hands to feel me
Touch willingness in the witcher's dance
One bite and the spell of soul is cast
Unto binds of novels; eternal pages "The Devil's romance
Darkness my forbidden lover forwith I know thee
Black conspirator burning out my hurt
For my weakess broken thus
Is that I never read thy endings first
So, just another taste of kiss taboo
For reasons each one, more bitter than the last
Affairs of hearts and seasons careless ever fleeting
Sprung the forevermore condemnation trap
The first born spoke memories of my birth.
He remembered O’Toole [our father] spinning gravel
at the corner of Deerfield and Glenwood blaring
Dixieland Jazz from the AM radio of the red Rambler,
“Outamyway Wegota Yankee Doodle Dandy. . .”
I was born on the 4th of July. I was a month late.
I was the sixth born [in seven yrs.] and afterthought,
the second sister who wasn’t.
A left handed devil (according to the Catholics.)
Someone to wait at home for the other five.
A willing conspirator. Someone to shoulder the blame.
I had coxcomb eyes and a pirate’s smile.
I liked to dis-assemble travel clocks.
I looked like any sibling I stood next too.
I was very smart but would not amount to much.
I bought into the myth of the family.
And the Dixieland band just played on. . .
Do ostriches not watch the Capitol's public hearing?
Afraid Donald's name will be sullied in the smearing?
He's a black sheep that subversives keep on cheering,
He's a coup conspirator everyone should be jeering.
There's not much worse than a closed-minded fool
who allows him/herself to be used as a political tool.
Politics is as nasty as the overflow from a cesspool.
Trump takes a dump and his cohorts praise his stool.
Jim Jordan and other Republicans refuse to admit
that Trump controls them and they just won't quit
condoning his lies and alibis, and why do they do it?
They're ostriches who keep shoveling his stinky s...
Keep your heads buried. Sooner or later you'll see
that continuing to believe his BS is a damn travesty.
He's divided Americans on issues. What a tragedy!
If re-elected, he'll expect to be called, "Your Majesty."
I sense
a yearning in your body
a trembling
through thirst
poised
dry immersed
in thought
of rocks
that lie afar
jagged and dramatic
sharp and dark and wet
their outlines lost
in the haze of waves
in the spray of the sea
as it rises
and crashes
in futile rage
you fancy
for the stone is strong
and will not crack
but I know it crumbles
I know
you dream
of standing upon islands
your eyes sparkling
with defiance
and I see further
into your secret fear
of the goddess
who lives within the water
your terror
of she who foams
and hisses
like a serpent
so devious and inconstant
and so you strain
perpetually to perceive
places you will not venture
noble places you are certain
to so resist
the malice of the tide
while I swim
I swim
in darkness deep
and you say
I am a conspirator
but I have touched
the distant crags
I have faced
these dreams
and found them barren
found them cold
yet you will not listen to my stories
for you insist
my soul has been infected
with the deceit
of the sea
so you pity me
my weakness
and forgive me my infirmity
Hastily stretched, crackled urgent ocean edge relents
Ashamed attempt to escape rejoins campaign of mass
Furtive dig below propels conspirator spasm, next next
Murders brash bouys, cranky spa champagne embrace
Swum undulations, bare back mermaid's dips resurface
Her furvour ploughs halobiont plenty scape, nourished
Snapped lobster lavishly celebrates bountiful turquoise
Sway gaze brazen by bobbing safe island encouraged
Crill swirl sweeps dripped lips, sun baked rock decreed
Beacon mound majesty painted daily in sea gull exhalt
Coconut snow flakes sparkle on cockle clamour bleed
Wave blown eroding scales slow exhales evaporate salt
Ripe globes ground reaped glug nectar so gluttonous
Fibres hibernate ivory rich liquors tipsy Secret Benefits
Land languish survivor devours sugar shards sumptuous
Wipes moreish mouth aft treasure trove haemorrhages
Fifth May
Finesse Saves
Antagonistic
Lying conspirator
Earsplitting
Xenophobe
Judgmental jerk
Offensive
Naysaying
Empty-headed
Spreader of misinformation
Written August 8, 2022
My attempt
to capture
your beauty on canvas
failed miserably
Those eyebrows
That nearly meet
Your neck
Slender and long
The self portrait
Looked at me
Proudly
As if to say
“Look, this is who I am”.
Secrets were shared with
Your little conspirator
Who knew
Those dark eyes had
Shed a river of tears
Whose pursed lips hid
Heartbreak and pain
You both stared at me
As if to say
“Find yourself”.
This poem is based on Frida Kahlo and her self portrait with monkey.
Mischievous thoughts?
She does not bulge,
Lip marks in red,
On the white shirt;
Accusations?
True she could be?
A red herring,
Takes me now,
For a wild ride;
Disillusioned?
Naughty betrayal?
Loose collar free,
In the playful,
Night aroma;
Melodrama?
Indulgent miss?
Slaughters desire,
"Touch me not" streak,
Spells disaster;
Conspirator?
Pumpkin eater?
"My foot" to boot,
You are the true,
Swindler, cheater;
Malediction?
I enjoy life;
Night reveler?
the ultimate conspiracy
playing out on the page
the situation's gravity
taking center stage
a pen held hostage
subjected to torture
this poet has leverage
can the mighty pen endure?
its blood steadily spilling
saturating the co-conspirator paper
this poet's slowly killing
her very own loyal helper
what could be the reason,
the purpose, the rhyme?
with all this poet's emotion
the pen's running out of time!
oh no! the pen just gave in!
well, now we get to know
where the conspiracy did begin
and the motivation behind this show
A boy and his dog, a dog and his boy,
The dog, the boy’s faithful/constant companion,
and secret co-conspirator in mischief,
keeper of the boy’s secrets, desires, dreams, fears, etc..
Naturally Puppy/Boy, first wanted food for
his emaciated, cloudy-eyed best friend.
My heart shattered for the both of them.
Even as the boy needed food, It wasn't for himsef that heasked.
But . . .as intensely as I wanted, to feed them both, with,
Love, and hugs and kisses, and encouragement,
I said to the little one, I’m very sorry to say,
That this food today, Is much too spicy.
In less than an instant, a frozen, blank stare,
Came over Puppy/Boy’s face.
That stare said to me,
As loud as thunder on a hot August day,
And as clearly as the bright sun after the rain,
You are not the first, to come here,
To help, but . . .instead, fall, short,
You’re not.
Then without another mumbling word,
He turned and left,
With only the sound of his worn flip-flops,
Ringing, echoing in my ears.
I heard those flip-flops, Pop! Pop! Pop!
As out the door Puppy/Boy went, until,
I heard those flip-flops, No more.
NOW,
Here I am, in my space, far away, comfortable,
healthy, after countless days, and months, and years.
YET,
The sight of that gaunt, little boy,
With the blank stare, haunts me, day and night.
When I’m awake, the sight invades my thoughts,
Like someone strolling by.
At night, my subconscious presents that face to me.
But more than that, Is my constant companion,
Of the sound of Puppy/Boy’s flip-flop’s, Pop! Pop! Pop!
Ringing in my ears, every hour, of every day,
NEVER ENDING.
My Dad was everything to me...
Musical partner...
Teacher of good music (ie 40's)
Ace pool player, poker player
Beer drinkin' Buddy
World's best Harmonica Player!!
Best friend...
Supporter at all times...
Inspiration for me to cook great meals...
Chef's assistant at Thanksgiving (we always held it - 3 days prep- ridiculous over-
abundance of food, including NY Cheesecake (Out of this world-ask for recipe..)
Dutch apple raisen pecan pie, A table full of appetizers... more...)
Co-conspirator of jokes and skits..
Primary cameraman.
Instiller of the Bell heritage...
From which I became the family historian and producer of 28 hours of video
tapes of every family picture, from 1890, all explained in writting, accompanied by
a memorable soundtrack...distributed throughout family.
Disciplinarian when I was naughty (oh, yeah, I'm a baaaadddd bbooooyyy-Lou
Costello)
He is dead but not gone...not while I'm alive...
The origin, it’s all about duality; creative force birthing all; from the void is love and hate, light and dark,
opposites.
Alternating, evil naps while good awakes; no shadow is a conspirator, only realities of past, present and future.
Dusk induces creativity, dreams from the realm of soul; guidance to tame the would-be monsters in man-made realities.
The darkness of the void, harbors a god particle, easily tapped with belief; it’s a paradox were all is revealed,
in quantum waters; where illusion breaks the abuses of life. The Phoenix dies and arises from it’s own ash-essence.
Spirituality’s secret, direct opposites create perfection, for those with eyes to see beyond to infinity.
1-3-2022
In conversation with our soul Poetry Contest
Unseeking Seeker
your new split second decision
your new cult of fashion and intuition
back to the middle
Say what you
I run away
your new dream to wonder
around again what’s there if it isn’t love?
the stories that it creates
plant the seed to be healthy
I set you free
Don’t ever set me free
Turn me loose
I love you
I will be with you
the tangents that you go on
did you discover his fate or was it all fake
My salivation
was it propoganda
it not as simple as it seems
the psychosomatic drowns in you
was my grandfather a conspirator or a joker
will I ever know the truth or was everybody given everything that they need
Near and far and everything
brainwashed by a political bully
who had no answers
be my world as you drown
I wanna fly
what are you fighting for
whose keeping score?
Does anyone understand?
When someone shouts out loud
Ask him what it turns into
I lost my
Salvation
I set you free
Say you love me
And you’ll never stop
I wanna fly
Forgot my
Tokyo
Lost my
Record selection
tear out whatever pages randomly if you wish
strategically if you desire
\but what you do what you will
I love you
Closer together
what you realize you will come crawling back when this book leaves your hands
to test you and the future generations of this intellectual dance of angels and
demons and mans
I will be with you
plan to tease ease and escape them
one day I will write this book
I’ll set you free
Dance with yourself
and every possible reality will be a riddle and every direction ill guide you through
and
another jeckyl and hide faked fur inside fashion mag
every prophecy possible will be in there so you decide your own fates and
puzzles
you want your family to rehearse
and know one day someone will control them all
couldn’t get attention
\love operation
didn’t want to be ignored
You got me goin
and they tell me their diggin’ the Heroin
she’s the one they like best
Come top the place where they finally found you
Nothing to lose
so the books will start exchanging hands
And the change might do you good