Best Craftiness Poems
What underhanded monkey business
razzle-dazzle bull is this?
Whose double-crossing, flimflam scam,
debauchery or hocus sham
is wheeling dealing in romance,
putting lovers in a trance?
Antics, capers or witch's brew,
enchanting hymns or shaman's stew,
whose quackery or voodoo drink
made Casanova stop and think
and turned the ancient lovers cold;
poor Romeo and nymphs of old?
Perhaps black magic's potent gel,
or craftiness or wicked spell,
a clever con or master hoax,
or just some trickster playing jokes.
Whatever ruse that works the arts,
mumbo jumbo seduces hearts!
Life has a funny way of smacking you,
not that I'm laughing,
at the sting of redness,
left on my other cheek.
It is said that karma is,
a word they call a sarcastic woman,
the word that rhymes with,
and almost has the same meaning as witch.
I have waited for karma,
and all her craftiness,
she seems to be taking her good old time,
she is after all,
always threatening to come around.
Maybe it would be better,
if I stopped wishing,
and just realized,
it's not beyond the realms of possibilities,
That karma has already done her job,
been paid,
and is now on a sabbatical,
I think my red cheek has healed.
~Vickie Thayer~Poetry To Ponder~
2017
Shadows
24/08/2016
11:12
In unexperienced infancy
Mistakes seemly false, intending true
Adult features with grown up looks
To show many secrets which afterwards you come to know
And make fool in all sort of ways
You are a shadow of yourself
Many years on, the thoughts so tinctured with no reason
And craftiness exist in great perception
Standing up tall yet craddled in low esteem
Premonitions banging out loud, no ears to listen
Your inseparable companion whoose manifestation you ignorantly take
A pestiferous self you will later know
a shadow of yourself
Speakers lament the you in you is you
We get the code but some make no atone
A popular saying that everyone is unique and special
I doubt, for some are but specialist in the shadow of themselves
Permit me to yowl at the single ladies
Having geniue apathy for whom they really are
Taking peeks at their foggy look
Social media tinted with their glamorous artifacts
Seductively dressed to earn fb likes
Little flesh will turn them on, their fetish say
They forget you are addressed the way you dress
Having no respect for womanhood
Solace sister in practice
You are but a shadow of yourself
She's such a beauty to behold
Not so sure if it's love or lust
You sugar coated mouth presenting levels you don't worth
Even though you fake all just to impress her
The real you is a cloud of fine particle that can't be hidden
A life full of pride is a life of shadow
A mouth filled with lies sees no reality but shadows
The more we grow, the more we know
After a time of been just a shadow
We are now strong to walk alone for
We are not created a shadow
#honesty #sincerity #direction #integrity
are what makes you a YOU
Be real, for anyone aside You is already taken!
Kehinde Oluwaseun
It was not the sound of babies crying
Or anger,
fear
Old folks dourly discussing
Nor disputes,
debates
Strident voices of cussing
It was not the sound of children weeping
Or taunts,
doubts
Young people rowdily ruminating
Nor oppression
craftiness,
Ungrateful tones of murmuring
It was not the sound of grown ups mourning
Or dementia
regrets,
Middle age crisis managing
Nor depression,
unforgiveness
Poisonous tongues of viper stings
The last sound heard was the sound of death dying
Your body smiles at me
so let me reciprocate the inviting gesture
with the natural gifts of arousing pleasures
well presented in erotic packages.
My curiosity is unfairly punished
by your hypocritical skimpy skirt
flashing the flesh so systematically and hiding them again
in a glamorous tease.
Your semi-circularly exposed glands
canopies me into a hypnotic boomerang system
where I create a mood of ecstasy in you
and at the same time, covet its blessed beam of radiant sweetness.
Let’s play naughty my dear and act so crazy sweetheart
with gentleness and manliness, I’ll navigate your front side
and then take care of your behind with wittiness and craftiness
My hands just want to go under
squeezing your outside, rubbing your inside;
touching all softness and ‘tongue-ing’ all openings
tearing off your covering and creaming your exposed holy Grail
with my saliva, from head to toe
wrapped in your wholeness, skin to skin
and preserved in the mid-temperatures of our slickly contacts.
We’ll be a fitted match
same measured length, horizontally well placed
burst for burst, groin for groin; lips for lips, breath for breath
eating each other up and yet dangerously unsatisfying
not letting go until even our souls are sored
with this affectionate tempo.
Our constantly bending limbs
will equal all hovering and meandering
and with every of your holes, so greased
ready for my artistic play and penetration
we stay captive to each other’s sexual outpour
and gain much enjoyment
in the irony of our butter-lotioned crys.
Knowing of evil and doing evil are two different things Knowledge applied with the right judgment is wisdom Cutting teeth on forbidden fruit is one thing transiently eating from the same tree Ignorance of the law is no excuse nor is the knowledge of the law It will not make you any wiser or add another day to your life wisdom of this world is foolishness to God catching men in their own craftiness be not wise in your own eyes no man can keep his own soul alive Hold that in mind as long as you can
"ONE
“Hahahahahahahahaha!!!!”
i tick the trickling time of your heart
set in a fast paced, rat raced end of nought
burying your precious life for my rise of worthless death
in traitor riches of an annihilating amassment
and you lose his gain for my vain
forever lost in the hell of my heart in eyes
rich reddest ripe
trickling slowly fast the sweetest hate within seen.
TWO
the sweetness of terror
in the deepness of horror
shrinks my ink in fright of freeze
behold
callous craftiness in cunning cuff of call
of tempting taste of a sense’s sensuous fall
an invite of worms womb rich in pregnant rot
of delicious decay blind in a mind’s fold of nought
takes a guided, guarded watch of a self destruct
onwards a chill of feet, six in plan of instruct
oh! where is the angel of sorrow
to bellow the looming loss of a tomorrow?
life is in a serious cell of “OH NOO!!!”
and heavens’ eyes rains a cat and dog of flow.
THREE
never scream your frightened prayers at me
whose mouth made a dross toss of my heart and hands
and killed my voice in horror of rich rot pleasures of pukes
never seek for my unseen oblivion please
for I have been buried in your long lust lost
of the eyes, flesh and heart
his eyes, flesh and heart
the time ticks a harvest of gory
and its sickle sicks a pleasure of dark story;
never be high pitched at its deep simile throat seek
and never rumble a resonating quake of its fear feast
for the reward is black ripe of a red hot sorrowing
and hades hungers hell fill in a piercing thrill kill
so,
let your begging prayers go
let six feet of summon do as told
let my drossed oblivion wave your bye of sorrow
let hades have its meal of nasty shudders, cold.
THE CROSS. MY DROSS.
THE LOSS. MY TOSS."
Even foxes have holes and birds their nest Jesus the Son of man had no place to rest Truth's King telling of the cunning craftiness of men old fox Harod a faux king guarding the home of the hen In songs of old and new of two lovers sharing a grape until day break and darkness flees like a roe chased or of Sampson and Delilah the three hundred running firebrands a strong lover setting a field on fire at last only true love stands Unlike the trickster of old or legends as numerous sands of time in cultures gave sport to the music stories the riddle and rhyme The fox has played the allusions of kings preachers wizards and wives Be wise as the fox harmless as doves ask help from above when sifting lies Ask for truth myths will fall to the ground as unscented paths for the hounds only hiding in His truth surrounded by His love can the chaste fox be found Yet in this world myths abound changing shape like a Kit soon with nine lies and nine tails grasping at will-o'-the-wisp's lume Tally-ho little kits while skulking on the leash of this earth Do not believe the lies of the enemy chasing foxfire or being poor eat the sweet peas
You were like a serpent
Wise, crafty
Whispering in my ear
The most extrodinary lies...
You were like the APPLE
Sweet and FORBIDDEN...
Once I BIT of your essence
My EYES were OPENED...
A myriad of colors
Assailed my senses
And pleasure
Like I've never known before
Left me quivering after you...
The simultaneous ******
Sounded like a fairy tale
Until...your cunning and craftiness
Showed me the way...
And now I know
The difference between GOOD s_x and BAD s_x...
I enjoyed your every touch
How you made my body feel alive!
But, now I have been
CAST AWAY from my GARDEN of pleasure
Cast away from YOUR LOVE and touch
Now, I must TOIL
In my own SWEAT and in the sun
Looking for a SERPENT
With the magic touch you held
Oh, to be BLIND once more!
Now, every man
Doesn't measure up
To your EVIL
Ecstasy of pleasure and SIZE
Now I am in the hot
Desert of the world
WEEPING and GNASHING
My teeth
trying to find
The GRAINS of GOOD s_x
Among the WEEDS
Of lousy lovers
Infants are naturally propagators of this quality
No direct blend with vices and curiosity, also
Not knowing at all is a huge cover
Over such mind seemingly pure
Carnality is naïve even though it sticks around
Ego is still searching for shade to comfort in
Naughtiness and craftiness yet to rent in this mind
Completely far from participating in wrongs
Easy to detect but not only from countenance and outlook
Should anyone hurt you with cruel words or deeds
And there is no one to lean on for comfort
I hope, if nothing else...
You seek refuge in my outstretched arms
And feel the cozy warmth of my caress
Should the North Star mislead you as you follow it
Faithfully, and you eventually end up lost
I hope, if nothing else...
Adiona guides you from the dusty road
Of nowhere to your desired destination, or back home
Should we depart the shallows, and the ebb and flow
Of the tide erase our footprints by the edge of the shore
I hope, if nothing else...
The cauldron of memories we left there
Keep boiling over for eternity
Should you fail once, twice or many times
Like Sisyphus pushing a boulder up the mountaintop
I hope, if nothing else...
You keep trying, again and again
Though he never could, you eventually will
Date written: 10/12/2018
Mythological references:
Adiona is the Roman Goddess of safe return
In Greek mythology, Sisyphus or Sisyphos (/'s?s?f?s/; Greek: S?s?f??, Sísuphos) was the king of Ephyra (now known as Corinth). He was punished for his self-aggrandizing craftiness and deceitfulness by being forced to roll an immense boulder up a hill only for it to roll down when it nears the top, repeating this action for eternity.
-Wikipedia: The Free Encyclopedia
The black crow, a stunning bird
A closer look witness colorful inserts
A loyal bird with only one lifetime partner
Play hard, but work harder
Constant construction of the nest
Collecting grub while chicks rest
Spending a lifetime in one residence
I wonder if they have different accents
Meeting the rest of the community
Making sky patterns, cackling in unity
Intelligent species, that's how they thrive
Craftiness helps keep them alive
If a crow dies they gather from all around
A large scale funeral with a massive crowd
I give the old crow massive respect
But my chimney stacks a right mess
flowing water said “i have no strength to go upstream.
i cannot row the paddle named hope to proceed because
the food i was fed to sustain my life was not nourishment
but men’s anguish”
at the time i fell into an abyss of despair
agonizing to overcome the countercurrent
i always was carried down by the current,
it may be my destiny i cannot circumvent or avoid
it doesn’t matter what i’ll become or where i’ll wind up
for i am a pathetic dew drop born in one morning
by the foot of a mountain; how can i, therefore,
complain flowing downward carrying life’s misery
occasionally, nonetheless, i feel sorry for life,
does that mean even flowing water have feelings?
it’s a great surprise for me to find out
drifting cloud said looking down on the flowing water
“don’t be so sentimental over life but just go along with
the river water’s destiny. since men’s tragedy is calamity;
betrayal, wrath, envy, frustration, all those negative notions are
men’s evil thoughts come to the surface as a tear disguised as clear dew”
“it’s a dagger only men’s craftiness can create”
the water kept flowing downward carrying
the pathos of life ignoring what the cloud said
Brainstorm cometh, damning frontal hemisphere
jamming lookout, noggin perched, roiling thinking
uber wayfaring zealot, drills legendary phalanx.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Writer's block afflicts Das scribe,
who whiz now stricken supine
adept dull livery sub par excellence
his gold standard worse
thus, another day
to slog thru arduous process
crafting admirable verse
wrestling behemoth loosed sniper
dodging enfilade broadcast sos terse.
N'er easy chore to fashion
acceptable word worth poem to whit
staring at flickering
accursed cursor doth blank stare visit
flash flooding warning saturated
gray matter fist sized unit
groundswell burgeoning leveed banks
barging signals transmit
urgent army corps of engineers
to reroute via sluice, sans surfeit
apprentice longshoreman
doth double duty
as grammarian sought to retrofit
arduous struggle ensues, where drowning
affects consummation
strong temptation quit
ditch ching progress made,
thus far in hot pursuit
mind comfortably numb
stream of consciousness
submerges concentration
entrenched deep posit
craftiness sentenced to punctuate
disequilibrium doth outwit
venerably beaded trademark
Scottish matted flair
abandoned unfinished poem
left forever stranded orbit
zero escape velocity
zinging, unsprung,
pinging mindscape nonprofit
able endeavor reflecting zeitgeist
bombarding Messerschmitt
undermining, strafing, disabling
cutting crew rescue outer limit
faint feint blinking in the twilight zone.
Absurdity walked this path of a whorish lane,
Dauntingly decked in a dark seductive garb
Egregiously seeks the thrones by craftiness,
Nebulous transverse for the wayfaring man.
Illusions of a well worn thigh concealed with facial mascara.
Killjoy bipolar nagging for control, demanding dominance by demonic antics,
Eccentric public commodity makes it the brothels for quickie.
Acrimony well taught from the market square by “Iyaloja”
Damaging defiance conscripting father to “garri Ijebu” and Fish
Egomania derailed from home and deprived of morals,
Sagged and perforated lurid frame perfumed for a prey
Offensive forlorn factious feigned facades
Lacklustre and noxious mien seduced the prey by lewd bait,
Absurd Incentive the goal, merchandise of greed, A week of affiance.