Best Shyster Poems
The Bad, The Ugly and The Good (aka: Bad, Badder, Baddest)
The Bad
I am the gun-toting, God-fearing Ganja Gangsta.
I’ll smoke you, pray for you, then have my daily siesta!
I answer to no one, and fear no man; No Sir!!!
I answer to only One Master. That’s Heaven’s Prime Minister.
I am the player-hating, man-baiting Sister Disaster.
I’ll woo you, thrill you, then …kill you; true that, mister!
I just swagger thru the city with my ‘Ghetto Blaster’,
I don’t mean sounds, fool!!! I mean my ‘piece’ … to blast ya!!!
I am the mean-looking, menacing Monster Mobster.
I’ll cut ya, shred ya, and have me a pasta fiesta.
I do not boil ‘em…! No sah!! I’d eat a live lobster!
I’m so mean ….Hey! ..I’ll even steamroller your hamster!!!
I am the fast-talking, Bible-bashing Pastor Imposter.
I’ll bless you, fleece you, then sex-up Sister Disaster
I’m just a shyster - but please don’t tell the Menacing Mobster!
She’s the God-fearing Gangsta’s wife - and the Mobster’s sister!
The Ugly (Badder)
I am the flesh-eating, life-sapping, Cluster-Sinister.
I am impartial; care not for class, colour, creed or gender.
I am microbe, but not a person-respecter; ask the sex inspector.
I am sorry, but for me to survive, you have to become a spectre.
I am the tear-jerking, game-changing, people-Prankster
I get called ‘*****’, ‘Sod’, …some even call me a ‘Mater-Conjugator’.
I don’t like Gangsters, Mobsters and especially that dodgy Pastor
I may get mad, or even get even; Call me ‘Life’, or call me ‘Karma’.
The Good (Baddest)
I am the Beginning, the Alpha/Omega; Heaven’s only Prime Minister
I wrote the Good Book, but look inside, I have never been a Jester!
I carry fire and brimstone to bolster my holster - you’d better helter-skelter!
I mete out justice, and vengeance administer: you'd better pray faster!!!
(Fg 81.5.8 - January 2016)
Do it right-
Since you picked the fight,
Leave the bite!!!
Darling, my darling baby,
Why do you not dance while I sing?
Why do you coil together like millipede?
Stretch out to me your satiny hands,
Lean your body on me sweet angel
And anoint me with your sweet scent
Like in the day of pentecost.
Today we shall shame the shyster
That often echoes in your ears the denying voice
That like cracking record repeats the tune of failure;
Today we shall triumph upon its soul in our victory
As we cuddle hand in hand in victorious amusement.
Be a queen that you are american
In your yummy attire that makes my head strong
And the mascara that lights your face like halogen
With the dangling beads like a bride in wedding day;
Wand your waist and make devil cry,
Flaunt your gift, today fear must weep;
Light you are, dwell not under a bushel.
No, you are not alone,
I am here,like the retaining wall, by your side,
Like the hunting dog and its bell,
You are the seed, I am the shell;
No , you are not rejected, you are not detested;
You are the taste,you are the fashion,you are today,
You are the honey, sweet honey who can spit?
PHILISTINISM…
Shysters set up gallows must for self..
Musters dominate china red dominatrix.
AS works had been done, all that did the jobs could well to eliminate cause by their poles and forces as that keep are to be too much to control.
Specious words are open debated.
Quibble shy is law that reddish all as china faces that shy.
Does nothing shy but care for many too and many shy.
Nasty nice is catchy wises.
Narrow senses are wealth and places or money ranks and up-boost as places.
Narrow nationalism all is militant.
Empty soap boxes have bubble sorts for political stages.
Some elements sink but some elements up as bubbled sentiments.
All are militancy comes with china tyrants heresy cults or clique.
Evil china so call as utopia all are commie pure as purest.
However philistine arts are wealth that could hire a flat of shyster office to work for them.
Philistinism life are must are wealth are life for keeping good.
Twenty-twenty grades of eyes that naked are peeking.
At lease your eyes sight have good light conventions because you are rich and good to cure.
Philomels sing pretty songs.
Very acute are sinful men that can be decreed for special pardons.
They are hennery fox or YELL KA GUN and some other.
Hennery Fox get the laws annexed and approval by china government for smuggling at British time around HONG KONG and china.
YELL KA GUN is pardon but pledge guilty but get the pardon from queen cause by so call very sick health conditions.
He said to court that he is dying however more than ten years from that he is still living in able ways.
------------Cheung Shun Sang=Cauchy3-----------
To the North, South, East, and West...
Geniuses are lost in the jaunty jewels of rakish cads,
The hazard morsel palaver allot odium on idioms...
Rankle virulent mishmash wheeze addle chagrin jives,
Loosing a volley of expletives ordure waft charmed oafs,
Self-iniquity gull maven heresy when blighted wizardry jinxes,
Ticklish cynic infidel swindle dupe cozen duress...
Squall patois and whammy sham schemas wriggle hoaxes,
Charlatans and hoodlums melange to dunce vows,
A shyster unquiet quivers with jester gestures now...
Semi-sacrilege vitiate and endemic jargon raze imps,
This collides as a white energy as dolt hooligan knaves beget...
Colloquial bilge putrefy, the rascals soon flatter us,
Bollix of potpourri lingo wanes to tutelary tongues,
Harlequin coercion argot musical novellas in history,
Pray our shifting shrapnel of karma, varnish boor minds,
Erstwhile, live grenades made of better lives are unvanquished as they are
thrown by unsung heroes into the North, South, East, and West,...amen...
The law is an ass that made me a victim,
so is my lawyer, his head up his rictum.
The law he said he knew
but is just a shyster who
doesn't know his coccyx from his dictum!
Like a scorned ex-stripper hell has no fury
but how I would love to be on that jury.
To call out the sex troll vamp
in the case of Trump v Tramp
in this the show trial of the century!
So they call the shyster ex-lawyer for hire
as their big star witness and testifier.
A perjured jailhouse trickster
who calls himself "The Fixer"
but oops, is a convicted fraudster and liar!
The busty po-rn star said “he’s guilty, yup”
of the hush money charges all trumped up.
It looks and smells like a con
and they’re out to get The Don
but it's all just a stormy in a D-Cup!
Written: May 2024
11/17/15 Hate
I used to think I couldn’t hate
Well, not like this or that person
Their hate sounded hateful
“I hate when the dish washer doesn’t use hot water!”
“I’ll kill you if you don’t stay out of my business!”
“I hate lying, cheating, stealing…but (under his breath) not fornication”
“I hate animal cruelty”
“I hate slavery”
It was caused by misunderstanding
Fruitlessness and disgust and judgments
My thinking that way was tenuous at best
My hate came late
With the power of living in my own apartment
I hate the shyster
I hate the lazy
I hate the unforgiveness owed by us all
I hate the disobedience
I hate that we cannot always know
Or see
Or feel
Or be
Hate-free…
Oh, you did not know Mrs. Klondike said.
Haughty, uppity, not nice in the least.
The festival has been moved and renamed.
The Aprillstica has been re-named?
No way!
I was horrified, shocked.
As my Aunt Bee was one of the original Villageonians,
I felt she should be bothered immediately.
“I know,” she sang gaily, in an unknown way into the phone.
“It was my idea.”
Her idea!
Now I was truly confused.
Had she gotten her pills mixed up again?
My Aunt Bee has not sounded this happy since 1971
When she married the newest “love” of her life who
Was her eighth husband, and a shyster like the others.
I quickly drove to Springton Nursing Home to see what was up.
“This is Harold,” she said in a voice I barely remembered.
A sing-songy, happy, uplifting voice.
Harry had initially had the idea to change Aprillstica Festival
To Marchatillion Festival.
Well, then, okay by me.
She is ninety-six after all, and running out
of charm.
I am a wedding planner, and
frankly, although I too am a Villageonian,
business has been slow….
Cyber Cheater
You are my cheating heart.
Passing me by from the start.
I feel desolate and broken in two.
Scarred for life, my heart hangs askew…
What have I done for you to leave?
I thought you loved me I wanted to believe..
I drift into hopelessness, feeling empty inside.
I take on my life in a dismal stride…
Longing, seeking; where do I stand?
Wondering and walking in the mind’s wasteland.
Do you still want me or that someone other?
The one that steals love, that one the shyster?
My heart was owned once upon a history..
Completely, absolute, in sublime stupidity.
How could you do such a terrible thing?
You just pawned your deceased father’s ring.
Think about that ring’s sentimental value.
To get cash, could there have been other things to do?
That guy is a shyster with his business dealings and such.
I’ll bet the amount you got was not much.
I kept telling you to stay out of that casino.
However, with your money, you continued to go.
Who pays for all that ritzy ambience and décor that you see?
The casinos get it from losers like you and me.
It is only normal that gamblers should lose their money.
If there’s a big win, it’s considered an abnormality.
Whatever you get each month you don’t save.
I’ll bet your old man is turning over in his grave.
With this money, go to the pawn shop today.
I want you to get that ring back right away.
when death happens
a smiling shyster lawyer
avoid at all cost
I see you are troubled the soothsayer said.
She could see I was disheveled and wild in the head.
Anyone with a knowledge of people could see.
So far I was not terribly impressed with Miss She.
Come closer, she said. I see trouble in paradise.
I was thinking “shyster” and “trickster” not very nice.
She took my hand and I noticed the warmth in her eyes.
She had caring emotion, this was an enormous surprise.
I ended up listening, and her words were sage and wise.
A fortune teller who cared, I told my friends over fries.
So you are going back? Some asked, surprised at me.
Yes, and I promised to bring you, we are leaving at three.
A Prophets End to Invasion
They were besotted
And long they stood with their clans men
their adamant frenzy breaking the strain in their eyes
gawping at the infamous injustice done
the dangling figure hung
with loop and gaudy blood
limp in their half seeing light
The uniformed aliens taking a stroll
the curfew bell rang sharp
almost brutal
down the abandoned alleyways of the one time
cornucopia
a dirge is sung
bemoaning their dear sweet concubine
oh where oh where was Columbine
In the hanging square this cringe of faces
milled and cried
show us something
give us cabaret
show us eternity
give to us this monstrosity
Voices in tune with their monotonous isolation
beseeching the crystallized prophets
as they rolled in tanks and armoury
waving the flag of their bedlam
the aliens returning once again
to another hero hung
from the bow of a slender tree
malice aforethought grown to onslaught
on the figure head
choked on his fine cup of blood
A crown of Apes and thorns
Labeled him the shyster
the pseudo man
crying
“don’t touch the sycophant it is taboo
don’t taunt the warrior
the lecher may come for you
don’t dare to look upon him
the dead face of our renaissance”
So the masquerade was done
the Christ is hung
the fable has gone
they are lost in their cybernetic burlesque of confusion
once the satyr made his revelation
but not one of them dared to look upon
the face
of their dead rebellion
Prone to debating every insignificant dot, mark and comma,
Energetic, talkative demagogue on every subject and dogma,
Trapped by a belief that you have the last word on everything,
Truth truly escapes you now in your fanatical pursuit of a win.
In your desire to appear knowledgeable in every legal matter,
Freely you cite precedents not relevant to the circumstances.
On things that really count you have none to give except your
Gargantuan shyster ego that recognizes no limit in its excess.
Go then to the canyons and there debate with your own voice -
Empowering it, fueling it, then stoking its fire - until it finally
Reverberates across space before coming right back at you.