Rage bait is a trap.
Simply a load of crap.
It does not seek or aim
to inform or entertain.
Its purpose is to inflame
and is just an online con game.
So lame.
What a shame.
a fad, a cult, a kundalini awakening school
where the sacred is commercialised, trivialised
we are dismayed seeing how the blind lead the blind
later sharing deluded interpretations on the cocktail circuit
the promoters of the con game laughing all the way to the bank
whilst those who sought spiritual enablement, no wiser than before
15-May-2023
White Elephants
Written: by Miracle Man
11-15-2019
Our lives are now filled,
with “white elephants” today.
Objects desired by others,
so we’ve given many away.
Possessions we had no thought,
of ever letting them go.
Age has rendered them unimportant,
so on others we bestow.
Many weren’t desired,
for their “remember them” stash.
But for a quick sale,
and a little extra cash.
But we could have sold them,
if that were the aim.
Today we feel we’ve been duped,
in a legal con game.
But we freely had given,
with no strings attached.
But we feel somewhat betrayed,
and forever detached.
Being eighty I always assume they’ll keep things until after I’m gone,
But Just because I placed great value on something,
doesn’t mean that to another it won’t be just a $$$ sign.
Tom
Ambush of a lie
North wind does it lie?
Or south leeward it lay?
Where does it lie?
Mounting evidence lying east
A peaking testament laying west
Gusty lies besiege down the crest
Why do Liars conspire against the honest?
Truth grazed in the valley
Squally lies ruffled the prairie
A Liar lurking trapped veracity
Oh how Liars hunt for morality
Every where in the world
When you eat fish
In a restaurant
The restaurant owners
Claim it is salmon or tuna
Or other delicious fish
But the sad reality
60 percent of the time
You are eating fake fish
The fish may be fish
Or may not be fish
But if it is indeed fish
It is probably tilapia
Or some other cheap
Bottom feeding scumbag fish
Filled with toxins
And possibly tape worms
And other parasites
And as you eat your delicious fish
You are eating the fake fish
And helping the fish industry
Continue this con game
But there is nothing you can do
Except for catching your own fish
And preparing it yourself
So, when you eat fish
Pretend if you must
That you eating salmon or tuna
While you eat your tilapia
And pay the salmon/tuna premium price
from my unpublished chapbook, "fake things" available on my web page https://theworldaccordingtocosmos.com
I warned you that I’d leave.You’ve made your choice.
I’ve changed my phone number,so I’ll never hear your voice.
Did you really want me to be your wife?
You’ve betrayed my trust and ruined my life.
“Do you think I’m a idiot?” Rob my heart.
I knew I had to leave after your fake suicide.
When there is trouble,you run and hide.
You’re a wimp and our love was a mistake.
Your con game caused me much heartbreak.
“Annihilate my hope”.Rob my heart.
My love for you has already faded.
I know you’re the reason I’m jaded.
Did you ever have a mind of your own?
You’re the reason that I prefer to be alone.
I felt sorry for you when you cried.
I trusted you & you lied.
Your "I'm The Victim" routine was a success.
You'd make one hell of an actress.
Don't burn your bridges.
Don't give me dirty looks.
Don't push me too far.
The next time you're homeless...I won't be there.
After all you've done...why should I care?
I've tried to be compassionate...
until I've discovered that you're a two-faced idiot.
Don't burn your bridges.
Don't give me dirty looks.
Don't push me too far.
Don't tell me the "My mom doesn't love me crap!"
I can only take so much before I snap!
I'm so sick of your con-game.
I'm not stupid & I'm not insane.
Everyone hides behind a mask.
Some use it for protection.
Others, use it to hide their deception.
I now see through that spectrum.
You wore a mask of lies.
Its fabric has become tattered.
The truth, I can visualize.
I once wore a mask of fire.
My heart was filled with desire.
Your hate turned it to stone.
Now, I face the world alone.
You wore a mask of lies.
Its colors have faded fast.
Deception is in your eyes.
I wear a mask of ice.
This state I'm will suffice.
Turning my emotions cold.
Until the right man has me to hold.
You wore a mask of lies.
I was fooled until it shattered.
The glimmer has gone from my eyes.
A perfect man, he pretended to be.
Using a con game on the lonely.
She was trapped in his lies.
Until she saw the evil in his eyes.
"Be careful, you dazed walker. Keep your distance from the stalker."
She is no longer his possession,
but can't escape his deception.
She has to see his dreadful face before calling 911.
When it happens, the damage may already be done.
"Be careful, you sleepy walker. Keep your distance from the stalker."
He wakes her from a peaceful slumber.
A reminder, he has her number.
Solid walls sometimes shake.
Victimized by his quake.
"Be careful, you drowsy walker. Keep your distance from the stalker."
Preying upon her during the night.
Like a vampire, he feeds on fright.
A doorknob turns without a knock.
She is glad the door has a lock.
"Be careful, you narcoleptic walker. Keep your distance from the stalker."
Testing his role as a friend,
he bluffs his way past mistakes.
Believing friendships end,
he oft gives less than he takes.
Much like a jester of old,
his wit is honed sharp and quick.
And he struts, cocky and bold,
with guile and a tongue too slick.
Chasing love and doing dope,
his future seems somewhat bleak.
For dreams addicted to hope
often devastate the weak.
Conniving for a fast buck,
he treats life like a con game.
And willing to press his luck,
given ash, he'll conjure flame.
His hands are covered in dirt,
yet music plays in his soul.
And broken by years of hurt,
it's clear; time levied its toll.
He is known for cavorting
with women, tall, dark, and lean.
But he's fond of distorting
truths; if you know what I mean.
Momma tell your son
It's not about guns
It's not about the buns
on his sweet little huns
Momma tell your son
It's not about shame
It's not about the blame
or the old con game
Momma tell your son
It's not about hate
It's not about the things
In his grand estate
Momma tell your son
that satan hasn't won
and it's not too late
to hit his knees and pray
Momma tell your son
It's all about faith
"God is"
the highest power
and will return one day!!!
this time of year
there'r more there
tho theyer everywhere
some play insane
don't fall for this thing
some do it for fame
like writer a book
always look
its a
CON GAME
The mischievous Sandman runs a con game each night
After all the youngsters are safely tucked away
He dances into my room like an elfin sprite
He seizes my hand, tries to lure me outside to play
Then he’s bored on my shoulder at the computer
Threatens to throw pixie dust into sleepy eyes
Quells my muse like a discourteous intruder
I’ve attempted to handle him with a compromise
Just let my muse roam free for a couple of hours
For at this time of night, fantasies flow smoothly
But he feels the need to boast of superpowers
And when I ask for time, he glares gloomily
It’s three in the morning and I should be asleep
This nightly visitor has grown to be a pest
Distaste continues to grow for this pesky creep
And the sandman scowls when I say, “Give it a rest!”
*Entry for Deb’s Fantasy Land Contest
April 29, 2011
I'm aware of a con artist when I see one.
I'm familiar with the entire con game operation.
and the hard, cold facts of reality
that the public apparently is too blind to see
is that most con artists are now centered in Washington, DC
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.