Best Trickery Poems
Fat or skinny
Short or long
There is no way to go wrong
When their put inside your buns
It becomes a lot of fun
They can squirt stuff from inside
They are moist and sometimes dry
Plumping up when they get hot
They are loved a very lot
You will find women and men
With these in their mouths and then
They will swallow every bit
Of this treats deliciousness
This meaty and tasty treat
Measured in inches and feet
Is enjoyed by one and all
Some are big and others small
This treat that I am speaking of
Is the world famous hot dog
Shame on all your dirty minds
Thinking all my written lines
Were about mens private parts
Laughing I fooled lots and lots
Under ghostly moon--
Bloody skeletons hang
Opening coffins
witches brew maggots in cauldrons
at the end of hooded dance
Shrieks from bleak alleys
Ruffle cobweb hairs
Medusa hunts for flesh
a shortening of pulses
mingles with children’s sweats
Pumpkin lanterns
expand knifed fangs
Loot bags ripping
from cracked windows of trickery
Halloween’s beat mounting, run!
*alternating 3- and 2-lines, traditional rengay
For Rusell Sivey's The Ultimate Halloween Contest
by nette onclaud
three wicked moons ago, we flew to a halloween get-away
on the beach island frilled with dangling bouquets.” no
costumes , please”, the invitation loudly read.. so off i went,
the brood still washing their heads… in simple sundress, my eyes
kept singing la-la-la. the hall was empty, freaky lights went off. in a flick,
witches were brewing black, fangy cats... a lady gaga
spiking screams, then came a judas hanging on a centipede tree,
by the false door, tattooed skeletons dancing squeaky reggae.
suffocating in a terrorized room, i hollered,” where’s my family!!”
what a viciously naughty night! they were all dressed in
ghostly ghoul and goblin witchery, tickling my almost bare body
just behind me… oh well, it’s october’s time to slay the night
and i was the pawn, the surprised victim, crackling with nervous delight
( for paula swanson's halloween of years past)
Masters of Trickery
alien ornithopters filled with pilgrims
gliding in under a full moon
foul smelling unwashed bumbling
hubcap jockeys from artless galaxies
firing bursts of compressed methane
in wanton hypnotic quantities
ended civilization as we know it
the survivors reel in stupor
the land is barren its people wail
our women masturbate exclusively
our men drool and **** themselves
except for a number of mathematicians
and barflies who did that anyhow
whoever said exile makes you smart
was a master of trickery and deceit
why did their science get them this far
then break down into useless tin
replacement parts are on the way
OK you can drive it just don't touch turbo
well he did and became one of the new gods
commanding the involuntary muscle groups
and the media of mass communication
Koko the hand sign gorilla was his High Priestess
Koko want play peek-a-boo
discovered anarchy all by herself
using those prehensile wiggly digits
to construct a portable explosive device
but potassium permanganate and peanut butter
must be mixed slow and her impatience
was set to fast so it went off in her face
leaving Koko beautiful as Venus
a miracle of chaotic reconstruction
when all she wanted for her head
was a tetrahedron
proving that existence is open source
the alien visit had been productive
many messages were left with us
could time have a center
asked the almond eyed pilot huffily
only huffy for him
was rip your head off
and didgeridoo down your windpipe
it looks like we all suffer from
gambler's syndrome
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
Twilight finally at rest peace serenely blanketing.
Singing of the ticking timepiece, patter at the stillness.
High-pitch sound of quiet lingering insanely.
Hour’s transient, expressions of a book, devours the mind.
Unexpectedly, the eye catches a dim glimpse of light.
Pages of paragraphs being digested, luminosity disregarded.
Light grows more intense, as if the attention is desired.
The head turns, to reveal the absolute of oblivion.
Eyes scan, searching for clarification of raison d'être.
From the other eye, stronger flashes of light witnessed.
Frenetically spiraling, panic proves the motionlessness.
Psyche begins to wonder, if it was merely hallucination.
Shrugging of the nonexistence, paragraphs are now chapters.
Droning of twilight, deafening. Every noise pronounces.
Phobia swiftly changes to sleepiness.
Exhaustion takes over.
Vibrant joie de vivre changes to profound hues of black.
Room turns chilly.
Hair on the nape of the neck stands on end.
Disturbing the intellect with fear.
Trickery of darkness scurries by.
Once again the eyes scrutinize, revealing absolutely nil.
Sub-consciousness informs slumber to take control.
High pitch sound of quiet, still lingering insanely.
Patter of stillness, sings from the ticking timepiece.
Peace serenely blanketing. Finally at rest, is twilight?
SHORTEST DAY TRICKERY
Again December 23 is almost here
Frost’s darkest evening of the year,
Ok. But what really bugs me
Is that it is the date when we
Are actually closer to the sun
By three million miles - no I’m not making fun.
It’s like going to a supermarket where
It advertises mega-bargains in hardware -
Twenty-five percent off everything,
And then finding that we are paying
Three times the normal price in the western hemisphere.
Seems to me there’s a con trick here.
We’re being ripped off, short-changed somehow.
Getting a steer, having paid for a cow
Getting the short end of the stick
Like being victim of some card trick
I mean who would buy a heater that
Got colder as you moved your chair closer?
Instead of Shortest Day it should be renamed
Shortest End of the Stick Day.
i witnessed your trickery
but could you see mine?
it still seems a mystery
perfectly timed
i guess when it hits you
as matter of fact
that lesson wont miss you
to surely react
There’s no council without wise old,
Nor old that vouch dharma nor virtue,
No virtue, truth would not uphold,
Nor truth free from fraudulent hue!
______________________
Translation |20.10.2024|assembly, old, virtue, truth, trickery
Poet’s note: Sanskrit has thousands of verses of wisdom called Subhashhitam. This verse is taken from Mahabharata, Sabha Parva. Draupadi was molested in the royal court despite the presence of wise old people like Bheeshma, Drona, Vidur, and Kripacharya. They were all talking about dharma while allowing such a thing to happen. (What Draupadi said is valid; what Duryodhan argued is also not invalid…) The transliteration of the Sanskrit verse follows:
Na saa sabhaa yatra na santi vriddhaah,
vriddhah na te ye na vadanti dharmam |
Dharmah na vai yatra cha na asti satyam,
satyam na tat yat chhala na anu-viddhyam ||
I found out
All that money is
Not needed
Cash doesn’t
Cure pain, sadness, and sorrow
And can’t buy pure love
Russell Sivey
Halloween is here!
But have no fear!
This is my guide so you survive.
Beware the graveyards full of ghosts and ghouls.
The graveyard is where you will see zombies feasting.
Stay in the light, form large groups, don't be fools.
Beware the alleys vampires hang about usually toff.
One look in their eyes and… boo! You're paralyzed.
Carry holy water, garlic and a cross, it fights them off.
Beware the skies alien abductions!
Butt probes, clench cheeks, hopefully you stay breathing.
This one's unavoidable good luck, maybe try some ruction?
Beware they pull you in with sweet smells, and words, it’s bewitchery.
It's diabolical, witches plans with humans hypnotized.
Show some cautionary there's lots of trickery.
Halloween is here!
But have no fear!
Follow this guide and you will survive.
(A. Bonds)
10-29-20
words used, alien, blood, cautionary, vampires, trickery, abduction, paralyzed, Halloween, feasting, diabolical
We must win the war,
Energy still raw;
With foes wipe the flour;
Not for us a sore…
To lose is a flaw,
End up in some jaw,
Long opened bad door;
Death would try its gnaw…
In battles the fore
As eagles to soar
Like lions to roar
Where gun fire is core…
Now, speech is a bore
Some speeches strength tore
Cow horns that folks gone
We all know Death sure…
But seek not life more,
Man picks what’s in store,
This counsel a lore,
Your boat row with oar,
Change of mind worse whore…
To remain member
These remember.
Have you met trickery?
Or ever shaken it's hand?
Maybe you met thru faces of a so-call friend.
Were you acquainted long?
Or did you quickly move on?
Maybe you try too hard,
For a place in which to belong.
Maybe you realized harm laid in-store...
And wisely kept trickery from entering your door.
If a wise man you were not,
No less of a person you should feel,
For trickery lives in many wide open fields.
It always begins with a huge heart/
To be used over and over/
Stomped out like a forest fire/
That someone you trust and loved started it/
Screaming, running around/
Raging in your mind/
When they pick up your heart/
And tear it to pieces/
To bash against the wall/
Without a chance at life/
Behind the sight of your eyes/
All you see is cold, heartless humans/
Acting like a friend/
Only to turn around/
And spread rumors/
Laugh behind your back/
Like you're a circus freak/
Being abused in all ways/
Because you tried to have a heart/
Towards others and they only use you/
Slowly ripping the soul away/
Becoming a ruthless beast/
Learning to give no one a chance/
To use you as a mat/
Being a cold piece of work/
The so called... Soulless/
A poetry form called Yalto____
buds pop 'pon
star magnolia
early
bloomer, ready
to show first white blooms.
a dove cooed
early
in the morn
confused
by weather
that's spring-like
and seems here, my friend.
well, winter hasn't left
no!
ten weeks of cold still
You are funny! He is six, with big brown eyes.
I have sixty years on him. His head is thrown back, he gives a loud laugh.
I am confused. “What did I say?”
“You said this is a spegasor.”
“It is a Stegosaurus,” I tell him.
His laugh is louder now, he sounds like he is trying to win a loud-laugh-off.
I am sure the meeting three doors up in the principal’s office is listening.
“Shh!” I say, but I do not mean it.
I say it only for the benefit of anyone walking by who might be looking in the glass wall of my office. I am glad my back is turned to this wall.
I actually am thrilled, as laughter is rare for this particular child.
We discuss how he lives with Grandma now. She feeds me, he tells me.
“That’s great!” I say. “And she doesn’t hit me.” “Terrific,” I say.
“We play and then we rest, we play, and then we rest.”
“You rest from play?”
A head-nod.
“How do you rest from play?”
“Mostly sleeping or reading books.”
“Sounds great.” He nods, and we continue building our animal village.
Then I decided I want to hear that terrific laugh again, so I try to be silly.
Twice.
He glares at me.
“What are you doing?” he asks me.
Even a 6-year-old knows when you are trying too hard.
I pick up the Stegosaurus.