Best Scammed Poems


Premium Member I Went To Heaven

I went to Heaven…..
Why I went there and
how I got there….
now there’s the story.

Went there to plead my case.
Couldn’t afford an angel so
one was appointed for me.
Unlike Clarence this guy already
had earned his wings – big deal.
My dispute centered around
the definition of sin and the
proper interpretation of
biblical references to mercy.
As in, is it a sin to commit a sin
in the act of being merciful
to a sinner?

How I got there?  Well, it seems
that Hell has its own version of
the TSA and it is as easily scammed.
The lesser “devils” work for Hell’s
minimum wage and can be bought
for very little.  So, I bribed my “devil”
and slipped out of line, bypassed
Heaven’s border patrol, and - Viola!
They were reading me my rights.
“You have the right to remain a sinner.”
“Any sins you have committed will
be held against you in the eyes of God.”
“If you give up the right to remain a sinner
your pursuit of forgiveness and salvation
shall be considered by the court.”

So, here I am – in Heaven!
Waiting for the angels to call my case.
I told them I was taking this all the way
to the top.  No archangel was going to
decide my eternal fate.  There would
be no plea bargain, no purification in
the lesser hell of “Purgatory”.  I was going to
talk to the Big Guy and tell Him he needed
to update his prayer line as many of mine
were returned with the “error code”
undeliverable stamped on them.

Well, anyway, the view is terrific,
the food is “heavenly”, I’m…..I’m….
sprouting some fuzzy feathered wings.
This could sway the jury or at least aid
me in my escape attempt.  I hear that the
“devils” are looking for me and “Big Lu”
is really pissed! 


John G. Lawless
11/24/2015

submitted to – I Went To Heaven – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Laura Urbaniak

Premium Member Like a Timex

Through lickings, like a Timex, my husband’s hard-core.
Evermore, heart ticking, he goes on.
They don’t make his model any more.

Not cut out for college, he gathered lore
in his craft; he learned it all, hands-on.
Through lickings, like a Timex, my husband’s hard core.

Into night he’d often work, his body sore,
developing both calluses and brawn.
They don’t make his model any more.

Once a fall from two floors up he bore!
Days later he was at his work by dawn.
Through lickings, like a Timex,my husband's hard-core.

Robbed and scammed; so much to abhor!
This self-made man felt like a woebegone.
They don’t make his model any more.

New trials that he never knew before
now face him, but he’s still a hanger-on.
Through lickings, like a Timex, my husband’s hard core.
They don’t make his model any more. 


For the Anne's Favorite Poetry Form: Villanelle! (Any Subject)Poetry Contest

Premium Member On the Good Ship Censorship



It's an all expense paid  trip, you know?
Until you decide, you won't bow to the 
government freak show.

Facebook, Twitter, and other associated 
BIG tech sisters and brothers...
Ban some for life, and block comments 
especially from Conservative others.

On sites, yes,  you will be punished brutally,
as well.
Yes, you able-poet, banished, like a creepy 
leper from hell.

How dare you not want the vaccination?
It's free, you fool, in this censorship nation!

Just make believe free speech is now gone?
Only sing of flowers and humor, anything else 
is wrong?

Poetry, the last chance to tell any truth.
Must be in-line with rotting governments, 
or, in a pile of old phone booths.

Covid has made minds fearful of any free thinking.
You'd better write only humor, or you are thrown 
overboard and are sinking!

Poets who know we are all being scammed?
I have seen them brutally treated or their poetry 
avioded or unread, as if it were useless spam!


                  5/6/2021
                   ~4~
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Dapper Draper

Suspect Dapper Draper,
half-scammed a bank caper.
With his brother Baker,
Whose a known safe breaker.
They rode on fly paper.
To escape down a scraper.
The plans were mere vapor.
They were caught in a chaser.
Serving ten at hard labor.
Guess it would've been plainer,
If they'd read the disclaimer.
Those crazy brothers Draper..
Form: Monorhyme

Yellow Catfish

Yellow Catfish

The man who tells me he loves me is saying those same words to someone else. I met him on the internet dating site although I knew it was not right.  Misery, company and I did it again. I got hooked by a yellow catfish of a man.
 
He sent real pictures from a camera for sure. Videos, hangout messages, and phone calls- many times four. I liked the accent in his voice.  For once I believed I had made a good choice. 

Until he asked for gifts like iTunes gift cards and such; did not waste time telling me how much. The sound of his voice matched that control sound. I was so glad he was not close around. 

I felt him hold on trying to get all he can. Trying hard not to make a jealous wish. I realized I was being scammed by a yellow catfish.

I fell for it; I truly did. Even went out and purchased a wig. Took several pictures to his delight. Sent free online photos of couples making out in the
daytime, on the beach, but never at night. 

This yellow fellow started to pull away from me. Realizing he was busted, he took longer to respond to my texts you see. Wisdom showed up as a dish saying I should never fantasize a jealous wish and I do not like yellow catfish.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member In 50 Long Years Gone Fast

My husband is in many ways the opposite of me.
Were he to make a left turn along a route, I’d go right inevitably.

Astrologically, he’s emotional (double water) but I’m a stable triple earth.
He rarely laughs, not even at a comic’s show, while I enjoy mirth.

As time went on, I realized he really was a nut.
Had he been a shoe, he’d be a heavy boot, always kicking butt.

Impatient, tactless, rude and often feeling out of joint,
he handcuffed himself to an official’s chair just to make a point.

A self-made gung-ho contractor within years he became.
But being accident prone, himself he often would maim.

Jack-hammered his own foot, fell two stories off a roof,
nearly removed his thumb with a saw (to give you a little proof).

He yelled a lot, got scammed, got stabbed, and had a nervous breakdown,
but he’s not the type of man to easily go down.

He learned to recognize the damage done to himself and his brother
from being raised and controlled by a narcissistic mother.

Once he got on pills for anxiety and depression,
the second half of our married years saw great lessening of aggression.

He worked a bit as a bounty hunter when building got too slow
and drove trucks long-distance too.  Over half the states he’d go.

He aggravates me even now, but he’s much more mellow.
He’s loyal and never could be accused by someone as acting yellow.

Though physically afflicted, we’re both at ease with one another today.
And if he were a shoe, he’d be an old worn slipper - tough boot tucked away.
Form: Couplet


In Due Respect - My Due Recognition

IN DUE RESPECT (MY DUE RECOGNITION)

I am not that to my poetry.
We are.
But the thing is, we are not.
You are with me in spirit when I write.
I know this well because we speak into my mental environment.

When I publish my compiled poems in a poetry book, I am not the best seller being marketed.
How is this when you know the poems as I am writing them.
I am asked by my publisher will I use their tools to promote my manuscripts.
I did once and no one pay attention.
Does it make sense when the world knows who I am?
I tell you it is just a waste of money and I am, therefore, being scammed.

Moving mountains is what I do well as Andra Day sings.
Precarious times and perils of the world manifest the truth in that I write about life and things I have witnessed to.
Don’t I suppose to get recognition for writing so good?
Additionally, is it right when the Soup ignores my poetry?
They do not put me on the list of “Best New Poems” popularity.
Yet, I have my audience and I am read just as much as everyone else.
Thus far, I must let the Soup know that this list is incorrect.

Mountains I do not shy from.
I am to climb to overcome.
No reasons to be dissuaded by a lack of recognition.
My poetry is to be written.
It heals the troubled soul soothing the thoughts that ponders.
Political activism for the universe of people humanitarianly bonded.
I am a Poet and Philosopher growing stronger.
_____________________________________________________________|
Written July 29, 2016!

Beyond From Walls of Sleep-A Reversible

Beyond from Walls of Sleep

Deep dormant eyes forever weep
Keep hells behind upon walls of sleep
Dancing demons in rituals necromancing
Glancing of gates admits infernos entrancing
Damned words resonating of souls scammed
Programmed lips through evil’s command
Hellion hypnotic of minds dwelling
Rebellion of thoughts forever yelling
Contortions spread sanctioned abortions
Distortions spread abandoned portions.


...in reverse

Distortions spread abandoned portions
Contortions spread sanctioned abortions
Rebellion of thoughts forever yelling
Hellion hypnotic of minds dwelling
Programmed lips through evil’s command
Damned words resonating of souls scammed
Glancing of gates admits infernos entrancing
Dancing demons in rituals necromancing
Keep hells behind upon walls of sleep
Deep dormant eyes forever weep.


...I took this a step further where the poem is reversed and each line is backward...


Sleep of Walls from Beyond


Portions abandoned spread distortions
Abortions sanctioned spread contortions
Yelling forever thoughts of rebellion
Dwelling minds of hypnotic hellion
Command evils through lips programmed
Scammed souls of resonating words damned
Entrancing infernos admits gates of glancing
Necromancing rituals in demons dancing
Sleep of walls upon behind hells keep
Weep forever eyes dormant deep.



...perhaps no double meaning, but double fun...

This poem is dedicated to my friend Gregory R Barden (the Bard)...inspired by his poem 'A Quest, Maniacal'...Thank you Gregory for your insight...


Music by Disturbed - Hell... Ghost Rider Music Video

Aug.20.2018
A Reversible Poem
Sponsored by: Jesse Rowe


Placed 6'th
Form: Rhyme

Scammers On Line

Once upon a time

there was a person

of a poetry company

that scammed people

all the time. 

No one was left out

like old and young men and women

who dreamed of being the best poet 

of all time.

But they did not know there was

scammers on the computer line.

Many people of all nations

believed there poem was the best

no matter how it rhymed .

This poetry company said [ you and you

and you write the best.

All you have to do is send in a little money

and we will place this fantastic poem

in one of our published poetry books.

The person of this company smiled and laughed and thought

oh [this person will send the money]

and that all it took. lol

Once upon a time

do not believe everything you read,

because it will save you a lot of money and 

your valuable time.

Premium Member The San Antonio Night Crossing

“... The closeness of the place and the heat of the climate, 
        added to the number in the ship which was so crowded 
        that each had scarcely room to turn himself,  almost 
         suffocated us."
				
	   Olaudah Equiano, freed slave, abolitionist, merchant (1745-1797)




We were taken in by roundup- 
legends of freedom, sold
heirlooms to pay for the privilege of being 
crammed into a tractor-trailer like green-
ware into a kiln.  The youngest 
faithfully lifted her chin, Quinceañera 
memories still fresh enough to almost keep 
her balanced within that shifty, 
blistering dark until she felt 

another sharp shaft of air, a searing blast

of a bone-dry wheeze from the next pilgrim to hit 
hot metal like he’d been shot in the head.
The chant began again, Santa María, 
Madre de Dios, ruega por nosotros
pecadores. Sweat stung our opened eyes, 
clarified visions of diaspora, of coldblooded
coyotes packing cargo holds with cornered chattel. 
We, the many, shackled by migrant irons. We,
a crop of people, survive only to swelter later 
in tobacco rows, on countless estates, behind thick shop doors,

but each Day of the Dead, we will recount:

Mexicans lost to a hardened 
geography where even breath is branded, 
an absence of just one half-mast flag, anywhere, their star-
crossed national anthem, our  costly escape 
into undocumented slavery, how long-
suffering dreams either suffocate or hide 
scars, why wheeled sloops blaze down border 
highways with short-lived payloads, scammed commodities
as expendable as a shipment of spring lambs ...

Premium Member Internet Angel

One day
Social Worker came
Said, received a call about me
Reported someone harassing me
Answered, worry not, “I’m fine”
[Eternal] God’s taking care of me.

Couple of days
Police detective came, Katie
Interviewed me
Took a copy of Cris picture
Even his son’s picture
Very worried
Brought 2 Social Workers
I took a test, told them the truth
She said, “Oh…He got scammed”
Told them not to worry,” I’m fine”
Said depending with test result
They’ll contact me
Never heard from them ‘til now
Told them “Father Christ got my back”
Form: Narrative

Premium Member An Open Letter To My Former Employer

So, XYZ Company, after my five years of servitude and loyalty
you close the doors, you dissolve the department
with less than a day's notice, because, hey, that's all we deserve-
And it was no accident you announced right before Memorial Day
So you don't have to give us holiday pay
And of course you think that's fair
You would rather deny a dozen people their livlihood
Than deny yourself your vacation home in Hawaii
Or your Montana ranch, or your private plane
At least, you avoided the hyprocrisy
Of pretending to be sorry.

And what of our bonus, XYZ Company,
that you promised, oh so ardently!
Oh dear, so sorry, quarterly revenue goals
were missed by thatmuch
so whoops, can not pay bonus after all
And it would be super great if everyone
Could just develop group amnesia
that we ever said it was 'absolutely' on the way-

Oh, XYZ Company, you scammed us, you flim-flammed us
You lied and you know it and we know it
We were betrayed like an unfaithful lover
Burned like an untrue friend
But there is no illusion here of friendship, or respect, or trust
Or even professionlism

You have no future, XYZ Company, for you are dying
diseased, corrupt, and caving in,
squeezing pennies 'til the end
And I am glad to be long gone
When the collapse comes
When the avalanche of your ruin is complete
And you are done-

Submitted to 'The Gem that Slipped through the Cracks' contest on 2/09/21
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh

Premium Member A Dedication To Myself

There is a poetry contest on a web site to write your own dedication
A difficult task for a humble man; good thing I am not him.
They will line up by the door, I am sure, thousands by the score,
And I realize it will be televised for a million viewers more.

"We've come today", the president will say, "To honor Joseph Flach
Who has accomplished so many things, but none I can think of as a matter of fact.
But he must be loved by all of you and be someone that you revere,
Otherwise I must ask why else have we all gathered here?

"My notes are thin, and I never knew him, so someone please help me out,
Any of you amongst this slew, if you know something just give a shout.
Surely there's a reason for this dedication, he must have done some kind of thing."
They all look around, not making a sound, the silence is deafening.

"I once saw him juggle, at least three balls for about 10 or 15 tosses."
"He once played in a tennis tournament and he had the most losses."
"I read a poem that he once wrote and a few of the words made sense."
"He once spoke up at a town hall with a rip in the back of his pants."

Not a pretty sight and quite a fright to see them all get up and go,
Wondering why they were scammed to come to a dedication for some average Joe.
I heard them mumbling and on my last name stumbling, "Just who is this guy named Flach?"
Lucky for me, in reality, I've got years to try to win them back.
© Joe Flach  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

My Hearts Resolution

For many months, I’ve tried to fix things
But now my heart says it’s time for me to move on
I will forgive and do my best to forget
It’s certainly time to dance to a new song

I’m letting them hold their grudges
I hope it keeps them warm at night
I refuse to sink to the levels of immaturity
And refuse to fight in their fight

Punches have been thrown, my bruises are healing
I’ve been lied too and scammed in the worse way possible
What I though were blessings were wolves in sheep’s clothing
No more are my eyes covered with wool

So Happy New Year to me, time to create a new beginning 
I’ll be out dancing, while they sleep with the grudges they hold
I truly hope it keeps them warm at night
Because the place used to be in their lives is now grown ice cold
Form: Rhyme

Captured


You lied!
You are a liar!
How quickly I fell
How high the fall
How dare you lie so beautifully?
A cunning thief you are
Disguised in pretty clothes
And a sweet accent
Oh, I fell!
For your lies
I fell!
You lured me into your web
You spoke about greener pastures
Painted pictures so enchanting
I was deceived
By your promises and tales
I put my needs ahead of logic
I let my desire for a false freedom
Lead me into captivity
What a fool I was!
Captured I was not
But captured I am now
I’ve been chained
Chained in a land I know not
Chained to a bed I know not
Sold to give pleasure to men I know not
The days pass by
 I treasure them not
My choices, I despise
My life, I hate
My captor, I detest
Freedom!!!
Where art thou?!
Bring me back those days
Those days I had it all
But wanted more
Send a note to my mama and papa
Tell them I love them
Tell them I was scammed
Tell them I miss them
Tell them I’ll be back home soon
Soon?
If wishes were coins
I would have bought my freedom
But here I am
Enslaved by the devilish schemes of my captor
My master
He holds a whip!
Pray for me!
Pray for me!
He is coming soon…no…
He is right at my door!
Please, pray for me!
My captor is the devil!





By Sylvia Chika
sylviachika@gmail.com
http://sylviachika.blogspot.com/
http://sylviachika.wordpress.com/
https://www.facebook.com/sylviachikablog
Instagram: @sylviachikawrites
BBM Channel: C002F2845
Twitter:@sylviaoz

© 2018 Sylvia Chika

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