Conning Poems

Older Men Are Beautiful

Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder Poetry Contest
Crystol Woods

Her man friend, grey, over the hill, and older
He's cheesy, conning, plain, and a freeloader
She's in her twenties and smart
Her friends ask why this old fart
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder

Her friends are so puzzled and think something smells
They even ask what happened to her brain cells
Break wind and smell the roses
Please don't take his proposes
She followed her own heart and the wedding bells

For someone else's trash is another’s treasure
Who are we to point and object, and measure
Maybe her man has a good side
And she's in it for a short ride
She's free to do what strikes her whim and leisure

REALITY CHECK

Aesthetic expectations, quomodocunquize,
An exasperating farrago of marketing lies,
Conning client desires,
While promising celestial skies.

In the "Selfie Era," so condescending,
Filters sculpting phantasmagoria, never-ending—
Painting a majestic illusion,
Regality of beauty, a fleeting delusion.

"Ageless," a dream that transcends all streams,
Flustering the mind’s membranes, it seems;
Cajoling artists, ripping through pockets,
A glamour tornado that ceaselessly rockets.

Embrace imperfections with pride,
Challenging the conventional tide.
Luminance flows from deep within,
"Mirror, Mirror, let self reflection begin".

Conning them in'

Common marketing
Mind capturing language U K
The Commonwealth gone..'

Moxie and Grit

   Wandering, ever wandering 
     straddling cultural divides
   Never homing, ever-roaming
     o’er fretful borders or oceans’ high tides

   The hands of a tailor, a mender, a fixer-upper
     conning the vernacular just enough for supper
   Wandering, ever-wandering through darkest woods
     a sharp eye for the worth of second-hand goods … 

   Known to one and all, the disheveled figure
     makes his way with aught but moxie and grit
   The wandering Jew, scraggly beard, ear-locks and spit
     pride in his bearing ~ scraping by on faith and wit

Danger Dances

The Socialist gang leaders,
            in the House and Senate still sit.
            Not respecting the American 
            Constitution one tiny bit!

            Conning their followers that 
            Capitalism is an evil way to live.
            Hitler thought the same, and to 
            Germany lied and gave them all 
            a deathly, lying, shive.

            I have to wonder, deeply about our 
            lost and belittled great history
            Universities on down, don’t teach 
            truth but opinions tangoeing in 
            fabricated mysteries.

            I pray our schools return to decency,
            not sex continue as sex change facilities.
            And more, yet more Americans, pray 
            to their God on humble knees!
 

                        11/17/2022

Lawless

A law-abiding citizen is
One who keeps the law.
There are many of them,
Of this, I am sure.

Sadly there are others,
Who live a life of crime,
Conning and conniving,
And never serving time.

Why does this happen?
How does this come about?
Law-abiding people,
Find it hard to work out.

People in high places,
Often get off scot-free,
Why are there no rules for them,
But strict rules for you and me.

Lawyers have a responsibility,
To follow the letter of the law,
Not looking for gratuities,
As the offender walks out of the door,

Footloose and fancy-free,
Confident in his next court case,
He will win as easily.
What sort of world do we live in

When we cannot trust the law,
Filled with war crimes and sin.
What do we employ Lawyers for
In this day and age,

People cannot stand much more,
It's time to turn the page,
It's time that crooked lawyers
Become a thing of the past.

The Several Mysteries of Stanley Meyer

A
man who
wanted to
invent things, he
claimed he had made a
car that ran on water!
Said to be bribed and threatened
by Big Oil, he was deemed a fraud
when he refused to let the court test
his creation. Did no one see it work?

This is but one of the mysteries that 
surrounds Stanley, who died after he
sipped some juice at a restaurant.
He gripped his throat and said that
he’d been poisoned, but this
was not proved. Why? Was
he gas-lighted?
Or was he
conning
US??

June 8, 2022 
for Joe Maverick's Life Death And Aims Of Stanley Meyer Poetry Contest

All Thoughts Falling Short

emperors run empires
kingdoms are for royalty
religion owned by paedophiles 
and numpties run the countries 

democracy is a mockery
communists and conning tricks 
socialists are emotionalists 
and dictators are just total pricks 

people need controlling
but never trust control
conspiracies are interesting
what do cover ups up hold 

a story just to past the time
yet some commit and pick a side 
others say they're out their mind
nit picking their twisted find

belief in God or not a God
always seeks a closure
and then one day just like that
your clucking life is over 

a stupid slab stands in the ground
this is where your corpse is found 
athletic, thin or somewhat round 
once made noise to not a sound

and everything is stuck and spoiled 
rotting deep beneath the soil 
at least you're not a lobster....
those poor gits get gutting boiled 

gutted before their gutted
destined for your hungry gut
you'll see your day disrupted
as they erupt out of your butt 

some call it a miracle 
the part we play is miniscule 
destined as a particle
i think life is fart-cical

Ignorance Is Bliss

Ignorance is Bliss
What do I think of this?
I have enough sense to see
What is right in front of me
Obvious and undeniable
Sadly not always reliable

The conning and conniving
That seems to abound
The dishonesty that is all around
The whole world is spiralling
Searching for a common ground

What we need
Is more care
Less greed
Too much is going wrong
I can hear a distant gong.
I find it hard to relate
To a World in this dreadful state


Thomas Gray was not amiss
With the phrase
IGNORANCE IS BLISS

Nessie Camouflaged By Subterfuge Con

Nessie slept soundly cuddling
the tin-plate toy submarine
fitted with plastic wood head
on long sinuous neck attached to
the conning tower, that drifted down
to Nessie's hideout deep in the cave 
at the bottom of Loch Ness.

Nessie knew the pressure was off.
The fake photographs had quelled
the endless searches and prying.
"We'll give them their monster" 
the model maker declared.
He gave them an image - a fake.
People believed the photograph was real for such a long time,
that no one would ever
see or know what Nessie really looked like.
People would always look for a snake like head on a long neck
with one hump or two from the tail.

People wanted a monster,
wanted a photograph to confirm it.
Now Nessie had the model, 
he could poke it up through the surface
on dark stormy nights when lightning 
added to the mystery and intrigue.
The stranger-than-fiction inner truth, hidden by what people wanted to believe.
A Trojan horse enshrouding truth, within a fake cloak of myth revealed.

The Lost Submarine

The submarine disappeared after it sailed
Its mission was an exercise that didn’t prevail
A search occurred until all hope was totally gone
And the crew of the submarine could not live on

Years passed and the submarine memories remained 
When reports of the ship being sighted were unexplained
A mystery of this ghost ship developed still sailing to be seen
Appearing near ships on a painted sea as a waking dream

So if you sail in the South Atlantic Ocean at dawn or dusk
You may see this submarine on its mission as a must
It may appear next to you as a surprise
With the crew on the conning tower looking with dead eyes.

© Paul Warren Poetry

To the Gates of Chill

Even to the realm of silence
I follow.
To primordial chaos
The specious zany follows.

Seemingly myopic,
my sepulchral glare.
Beware! Of conning eyes
you raider of fulfilled rapture.

I hound the hooded hound
for my demi-soul.
Adonis for Aphrophone
walks plutonian deeps.

Though, I come,
futility behind
scourges with strikes 
of dejection.

Yet, on void grounds
I push to limbo
being met by wan faces,
wry creatures.

I fear that perchance
the blazing pecan
is ripe for reaping 

Will you succumb?
Aphrophone!

Once Upon a Tricky Life

You’re floating on a sudden woe
heart drowned in melancholy
concealing sob of blue
under sun shining woolly
Life is nothing but a trick
For boundless suffering
watching you howl and weak
ti’ll no strength for hollering.
Here, in bending knees
You cry, head low
Begging as your last piece
bursting in pain, you bellow.
Oh friend, it's me
I’ll light your murky way
Yes, you’re living in agony
I’ll take you out away.
Take my hands—yes both!
with your strengths remaining
Stand in two, you ought
to fight back life’s conning.

From the Ashes

Here it is, that glimmer of hope, a poem I will now be proud to write. I am switching sides from darkness to light on this star filled full moon night.Tom foolery and pride, manipulation and intelligence, with it multiple tables I turned. Gasoline and matches, my tools of trade, oh the massive bridges I burned. Addictions, temptations and pleasure, that was simply the life I would live. Carefully conning my way into the pros, ad lib, like a play with no script. When given no direction to follow, eventually left me with no direction to go. And with no direction to go,  left me lost, lonely, with a trail of ashes and alone. An ocean of ashes surrounding me, I laugh nervously...I burned it all. Laughter turns to tears, under a star filled full moon night.... tears fall. Life from me dissipates slowly, I lay decaying becoming too....ashes. Yet my soul held such a hidden will to live, soar, and succeed....it was miraculous. From those ashes my soul became like a phoniex, erupting from the nothing, a force of will. A new sense of direction in life, and with nothing in life left to destroy, I started to build.

Service

Service


Prior to die, want to fix in heart
Fixtures to meet on earth to serve
Billions are, will be again
Along with all creative genuine
Reading summary of all, want to slake heart
Whether there is some I’ve known for
Vociferous desire never laid me moon
From where I could pass without boon
Presumably reaching off and on
Ultimately at eternal canon
Verbally I thwarted to all 
Broadening cheek I’m satisfied
But burning within rearing unlimited ferns
I never remained applicably joy
Purity there is only there is I know
Cheating to all I never divide
Bluffing inch by inch 
I laid to borne desire
Conning believe I’m tall for all
Whether they knew me exactly I serve
Or they blinked eyes turning other
In many events where two or three stood
I saw them after passing differ
I want to clear my heart this is love
At least one seed immerges not to flirt other.

( Mix match of the mind not intended to hurt any one).

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