Best Schemers Poems
As a dreamer, I never once dwelled on schemers,
so, as a believer, I fell for him, a deceiver.
I was never an anger screamer and tear streamer
until romantic panic lay me down as griever.
I believed his story, his strengths and regrets
which had me set to gently drift into his net
where hidden, as yet, were his sharp-hearted threats.
He spoke of love most profuse when he played to seduce.
I revealed all my truths, he used them for abuse
while running hot then cold to steer me towards confused.
Oh, he was charm, lushness and warmth, a manly steamer.
Then he was harm, harshness and cold, a heartless quiver.
Playing the fool to his cruel, is my self-debt,
one my brain did not deduce, nor heart now excuse.
Such a wonderful city of angels
Full of dreamers and schemers
Cowards.
Posers.
You poisoned me with sweet love
Then poisoned me with anger.
A lion with an impatient roar
Slowly eating me alive.
Ever so cleverly.
I never saw it coming.
I've been devoured and feel invisible.
I look in the mirror at a stranger now.
The Gods have allowed me gentle protection
The Angels hover over me, shadows on my wall.
Safe, yet damaged and scared.
Shock.
Unhappy, bitter and vengeful.
Emotions that exploded all at once
A bomb ticking away. you ignited it and detonated me.
I love you but don't know what to do.
We are dishwashers and bill payers, we have day jobs and night jobs.
Some of us are retired, I am not, because I know too many
who died after they did that.
They lost their purpose, and before they could find another one,
they gave up, and left their earth life.
We do not have any more time than the rest of you,
but we grab it up and use it in full force.
We have chosen a life few choose. We are word players -
writing on napkins and paper plates.
Grabbing whatever is near at the time, jotting down phrases,
rhyming words, and lyrics.
We knew that we could and we can, and we do because our souls
will not let us not do.
We are the dreamers, the schemers, the world lovers,
the imagination people.
We are the ones who invent the new things, and
tear up old ideas to make room for new ones.
There is a driving force that tells us we must.
I call mine Trixie. She is an inner voice that yells at me.
She has crazy ideas. She cajoles me and coaxes me.
She holds me down until I yell “Aunt!” so I follow her lead.
We are the poets.
genius and crazy fit together like a puzzle
perfect and tight, cuddling up in a perfect fit.
if you do not have a bit of them both, you
will never know what poetry, art or music is.
imagination thrown in makes the perfect fire.
the comics, the dreamers, the dancers, the schemers know it.
you do too if you are truly living your life.
Because I see deeply into the living
With their energies always giving
Our world a mixture of these vibes
That create our civilizations and our tribes.
I sit and ponder their intentions
Of their technologies and their inventions.
Is it for our benefit and for our good
To build our lives and neighborhoods?
Or is it selfish and that they only see
Their money to be earned and their plans to foresee
Their capital building and income to be saved
And not to be spent on our roads to be paved?
We're taxed to death while they stay rich.
They're up in their mansions while we're down in the ditch.
They're not all bad, though. They often help us
By spewing their gifts from up high on their precipice.
Take the bad with the good, they often say.
The yin with the yang and the shadow with the day.
But I can't help but to think that there's much more than this;
Of all the simple happiness that we miss.
Our families that we love, we can't love enough
And we're made to give up on our hopes; to learn to be tough.
We need more poets and musicians, artists and dreamers
Then banish all the liars and do away with the schemers.
Who falsely live to drain our souls.
But because I am strong, I can fix these holes
That this life can leave and it doesn't have to be this way.
We just need to start small and we will soon have our day.
Ollie Ollie Oxen Free
by Odin Roark
Corners to peer around
The harlequin of angles
Where peeking
Reveals
Where being stuck
Confines
Where feeling trapped
Separates
Our remembered child stands
Eyes squeezed shut
Face buried where two walls meet
Counting to one-hundred
While confidence sought
To play out our innocence
Beneath
Behind
Beside
A trusted game
Waned
Time passed
Shorts became pants
Pants became suits
Nostalgia echoed once more
“Ollie ollie oxen free”
Still we remained
Unwilling to believe
The forged sincerity
Baited with fiendish smile
Enticed with charm
Was but to set up
The next furtive trap
Suddenly
Acquiescence lay naked
Villainous schemers
Knowing but numbers
Who lured
Cajoled
Seduced
Our reluctance to cave
Are…
Later
We dragged ourselves away
Kicking and screaming
“We only wanted to play the game
Not be the game”
Emptiness invaded
Freedom to respond
To return home
To trust a voice
Wasn’t so
Anymore
Ollie ollie oxen free
So simple
So everlasting
Now but an epitaph
Unquotable quotes – VI
(Note : A good many of the « epigrams » in this sequence of quotes are a take off on other well-known short poems, proverbs, sayings or expressions faites, etc . The rest are my own epigrams.)
All the world’s a stooge.
Paint the town red with blood.
Swing low, Sweet chariot ! Coming to carry me on throne !
Turn the other back for a slap on the back.
Can you turn your nose up while sitting on your high horse ?
Finders keepers, Minders weepers !
Black holes also suck white souls.
A bun in the womb is worth ten in the oven.
Cleanliness is next to Godzillaness.
Garbage cans are not rubbish bins.
What goes up must bring Heaven down.
We are all stinkers under the arms.
We are all sewers under bums.
We are all lovers under mums.
We are all beggars under alms.
We are all killers under arms.
We are all believers under psalms.
We are all thinkers under norms.
We are all schemers under qualms.
We are all bribers under palms.
We are all runners under bombs.
We are all rotters under worms.
We are all liars under gums.
We are all swimmers under foams.
We are soldiers under uniforms.
We are all writers under thumbs.
One need hardly fear the extinction of Life on earth through environmental or climatic catastrophe : inter-religious contention will get the job done well before-hand.
Cricketing jargon
« Style mahu kala tida-apa ! » (Doesn’t matter if you’re given out so long as you managed to play the right stroke !)
This « tongue-in-cheek remark » in Malay pidgin is often used in Malaysia-Singapore to describe those batsmen who surrender their wickets in style, i.e., batsmen who are sticklers to the art of playing textbook strokes irrespective of whether the ball is engaged by the bat or not.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016
The Craven
(with apologies to EAP)
Yesterday at my bail hearing, suddenly what I was fearing
Came with force of pounding gavel causing me to near unravel
Causing weakness in the knees, dreading future lawyer’s fees
Then I heard the gavel pounding, pounding on my future days
“I ain’t got the cash, your honor”. “Lock him up until he pays”.
“Damn the system, judges, lawyers, laws embossed in courthouse foyers.”
They make decisions based on fact that later they will all redact
Whilst in cells dingy, dank and foul I listen to the guilty howl
Denying what the voices said, denying they were in their head
Plotting schemers that connive, a curse as long as you’re alive.
Deep into the emptiness I stared, longer than the others dared
Saw the bottom of hell’s pit, no chance of getting out of it
Bargained, pleaded, made a deal, my soul for getting out of jail.
So now in days devoid of change I wrestle with decisions pangs
knowing nothing can erase the malevolent grin on Satan’s face.
Cold, silent, darkness wanting more, sucked the heat out of my core
Distantly I heard the sounding, that of the evil sadly pounding
Pounding on the chasms floor, pounding amid hellfire’s roar
For I was judged by ego’s gavel, condemned, and left, to slow unravel
Condemned, for even justice fails, when there are fingers on the scales.
9/21/2014
submitted for Kelly Deschler contest – The Raven
My Eyes Are The Seers Of Treasure,
Among The Limbs When I Dream Of Leisure,
The Brain Is Wealth,
As A Thieve Is To Stealth,
The Future Is For The Dreamers,
For As Far As I Recall, I’m Among The Schemers,
And The Brain Is Indeed Gold,
Only In The Minds Of The Wise And Old.
Beautiful Things Seem To Never Last,
As They Always Opt To Stay In The Past
Sometimes I Smile, Sometimes I Whine,
As If I Have A Needle Penetrating My Spine,
I Had Never Came Across Luck,
Midst The Uncomfortable, And Nuisance I’m Stuck,
However I Never Knew That My Mind Was Gold,
For I Believed, Brains Are Only For The Wise And Old.
I’m The Cold And The Belligerent,
Opposite The Bold And Intelligent,
I am A Sad Song That Was Never Sung,
Still Stuck On The Singer’s Numb Tongue-
Should I Blame Stupidity, Rushing Through The Pain,
Clueless As I am- Here I Remain,
For I Have Assumed Patience Is Gold,
Only In The Mind Of The Wise And Old.
My Heart Is Feeble, And My Strength Have Drained
And Whenever My Thoughts Dried- I Wished It’d Rained-
Where’s The Light, I Wonder, Feeling Like A Powerless Torch,
While Everyone Stares At Me Like A Raven On Their Front Porch,
Therefore My Visions Turns Microscopic, Filling Me With Wrath,
As If Ninety Nine Black Cats Crossed My Path-
Yet Deep Down Inside Me My Thoughts Are Gold,
Leaving Me With The Feeling Of The Wise And Old.
PRESENT PERFECT in SUMMER SCHOOL
CONJUGATION
I have yearned
Thou hast returned
He has departed
She has kissed faint hearted
We have voiced warm greetings
They’ve had timid meetings
The young ones the old ones
The joiners and the out-in-the-cold ones
The sad boys the bad boys
The mild boys and the wild boys
The Shy girls, the sly girls
The good girls and no-better-than-they-should girls
The skivers and the strivers
The schemers and the dreamers
PAST HISTORIC
I retain affection
In retrospection
She with the bright eager face and wisdom beyond her age
He in the body of a boy but with full grown mind of a sage
He the humble giant, driven to knowledge that he pursues
She with the questing soul of a scholar and romantic heart of a muse
They have devolved
The Earth has revolved
And today we elect
To teach Present Perfect
PRESENT
Outside the classroom
Sun cloud and tree dapple the grassy vale
Aspens tremble, willows sway in graceful measures
Blackbird, thrush and warbler trill a delicate scale
Daisies, buttercups, cowslips scatter transient treasures
Above and beyond in skies azure and white
Skylarks ascend, red kites soar in cerulean
And in their chosen study focus sight
Gaze down upon this blest Elysian scene
PERFECT
There once was a bus trip to taken
two groups was trouble in the making
All women, need I say more
whose beauty men could not ignore
Brunettes thought to be smarter
blondes needed to try harder
To this they were unaware
just trying to be fair
A massive double decker bus
to safety all would entrust
The final decision made
brunettes on bottom, blondes on top
driver delighted, these women are hot
As the trip began, screaming was heard
from the ones above, how absurd
thought the dark haired beauties
Those blondes act so snooty
and they're well, kind of dumb
to this fact we've become numb
But now there is all this drama
have to care for them like their mamas
Brunettes inquire as to what was wrong
this trip was planned for so long
We are having a blast, can you
try to enjoy this while it lasts
Blondes exclaiming
we want off this bus !!
our safety we no longer entrust
You chose the bottom on purpose
so you could sit back and hurt us
You schemers and connivers
at least you have a driver !!!!!
Revived to pop out as an empty nester
To accompany a newfangled life
Maneuvered all the way for a change of state
I dropped my bags and willed at country’s metropolis.
The heirloom edifices occupying moiety of acreage
Glossy crisscross roads and extended overpass
Spic-and-span subway and the rushy blue line coaches
Voguish three wheeled fares and snuggled DDA flats
Yet an open blue sky and extreme deuce climate.
The forenoon snarl – up and the crowded massed bus
The traffic and the driver’s clapper claw
The border red signal and the busy CP
College bunkers to gates of malls
Unitedly a fussy horologe.
Where educatees hitting lectures and employes cogitating
Schemers contriving at the parliament
Few couples could be sighted antithetic though
And rest chewing the fat.
Republic march at the red fort
And the day break Jama Masjid prayer,
Incised India Gate boswell and
The eventide light show at akshardham.
Elementses unidentified at Qutub Minar
And the muteness dwelled at the lotus temple,
Savaged kingdom at Tuglakabad
And exquisite ambiance of Humayun tomb,
Concisely a grand metropolis
Envied world-wide.
Revived to pop out as an empty nester
To accompany this newfangled life
Maneuvered all the way for a change of state
I dropped my bags and willed at country’s metropolis.
The land of living has been
Possessed by masqueraders,
No need of faces to be seen;
The land is a mask,
It's the celebration
Of desolation.
The smiles of the schemers
Are seen in every city!
Only they decide who will live
And who will die.
And the life we die.
There is neither wrong
Nor right time
Not white nor black either
And not half-caste
And no one really knows
Whether to live on what we can find
Or how our lives are twisted
In the throes of fate.
Silence flows through us...
We have nothing to say:
Unwilling to explain
Unable... to find words
For all there is to say.
We feel the need to hide our faces.
How long will I have to write rhymes?
Till the time I accept the logic?
Watch it! You’re caught and fastened by fossils,
No Entry, Kill Bill, with ease as ya see!
With Illmatic words, overheard by not many,
Quick to overlook fundamentals,
Society is sick, don’t listen, and has nil higher wisdom,
Will wise words ever call for them?
Mindsets from a different system,
Blessings Hard!
Remember, with rhythm right from the start,
I said I’m repping my poetry, unleashed and attacking fast,
Am I crazy? Am I insane?
Language gives us divine pathways,
Alternative creative waves of thought,
Do you choose well? Or do you choose evil?
Which way you go only grows by what you follow,
The Poetic Picasso, on all levels, high and down low,
Bringing confusing concepts overflowing with flows,
Futuristic proverbs glowing, energy blasts frequencies above Adam,
Entangled subatomic atoms,
Quantum Phantoms intertwined with rhythm and rhyme,
Climb both horizons, colliding with written lines,
My superpowers devour your cloud nine,
The nineties, I questioned societies,
Schemers seen, teams of psychopaths secret and unseen,
The advantage?
Bridging things misunderstood,
Look you should sight the potential crooks,
By reading alternative books,
Its hooked me psychologically, The keys of Philosophy,
It takes and shakes my psyche with wizardry,
Legendary idioms we witness as we read.
Seem to be constructive and productive,
I just love this poetry writing stuff,
Handcuff me to a pen and pad,
Sacred knowledge lands,
Understanding right where I want it,
Fronting fears and switching up,
When’s it enough? Tired of wearing ear muffs,
Liars and social dividers connect,
Recollect through intellect and recalling,
Don’t stall, you will fall forever,
Ruled, on auto pilot, never ever seeking,
An ignorant conscious mind,
Easy to find, walking the streets,
Who kick it with peeps who are asleep,
Beep Beep, Acceleration star ship, nothing is too steep,
I keep what is wise, reaping the rewards of repetition,
The Story Rhyme Magician.
Quincy Mac
Date Written: 30.8.2016
Fig tree fruit...fig tree fruit...fig tree fruit
Eaten by toddlers...fig tree fruit!
Gave elders stomach ulcers
Be careful for this is a fishing bridge
Elders warned...
Play not here lest you tumble into the river and drawn
Adamant!....the fig tree fruit
Birds do not play on a sticky trap
They emphasized
Rebellion!....the fig tree fruit
That is sweet and also this!
“Made a jumpy greedy cat fall on its back”
Wisdom of ages not heeded....fig tree fruit!
That one is better than this one...
She said...infidelity!
Where is he now....tears!
“Snuffing tobacco is the one already in your nose”
A sound adage...”for the one on your finger belongs to the wind”
Regret!
A husband is worth your respect...treasure him
“Spite not a male grasshopper”...never forget...
Wealth is not love...love it not!...good advice
“A foolish woman tares down her home with her own hands”
Says the WORD!...a fig tree fruit
Guard your ears
For hearsay destroys the home
Watch your words
They are seed...in due time you will reap!
Tears you will shade...to your knees regrets you shall whisper....
No comforter
Naivety is what you are doing...warning!
Halt before you are haunted
Where you are staying keep your eyes open
For trouble is bred by those close to you....
In your sojourn...remember...
Jealousy, envy and malice abounds
Plotters and schemers are always around
To some places...revert not
For foes there your life can snare
The fig tree fruit!