Long Conned Poems
Long Conned Poems. Below are the most popular long Conned by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Conned poems by poem length and keyword.
Day one out of the womb – had a full crop of hair,
black like my daddy’s (it later went more fair).
Early childhood – Mom kept my brown hair short
because I’d twist it into knots. What a silly sport.
Peanut butter and some gum in my hair might stick.
Never a long hair style could I ever pick.
Pre-teen years – at last I saw my dark hair grow.
Pony tails and pig tails were ways my hair might show.
Junior High, late 60’s, hair piled high like a hive.
A wonder that no bumble bees were seen in there alive.
My hair was also parted always on one side.
I’d wear curlers in a store. Did I have no pride?
High school days – hair longer. In boring math at school,
I sat there pulling off split ends. Must have looked a fool!
College days – used a cheap product from the store.
“Sun-In” gave me reddish-blonde. I used it four times more.
The 80’s – got a perm. The curls were tight. Had oodles.
Now I can have sympathy for cockapoos and poodles.
90’s – used extensions. A lot of folks I fooled.
Strawberry blonde seemed to be the color then that ruled.
New century. New color. My hair was very blonde.
There were two guys in a tram in Rio that I conned.
My friend who looked American knew every word they stated.
About my natural color those guys in Portugese debated.
They finally decided my blonde was natural.
I got a kick out of those young fellows’ folderol.
Later on, my hair got over-bleached. I showered, and
lots of strands of it crumbled right into my hand.
After that, while growing out dark roots about two years,
I wore a wig until uncolored hair went past my ears.
A co-worker , not knowing I wore a wig at school,
told me that my hair had never looked so cool!
By 2010, my hair was in a rut.
Only one side of it grew, so I’d always get it cut.
Turned 60 and got cancer. Ate better to be stronger.
Miraculously my hair AND nails grew a whole lot longer.
Since then till now, my daughter’s been my dear beautician.
She keeps the gray away and my hair in good condition.
Were my hair not dyed, salt and pepper it would be.
I love my gold-like hair, thick, and long and wavy.
Some people think a woman of my age should wear a shorter “do.”
Decades it took to get this look, so NO (and I’ll keep my cute bangs too!)
Across the Atlantic ocean
They have a pedantic notion
Quip us Brits have a frantic lisp
Did slip..meant to say chip not crisp
Semantic antics causing a commotion
Misunderstand our land’s devotion
To the sensory explosion that is a crisp
So why the linguistic demotion
Respond to across the pond & beyond
Have donned a wig of blonde
Seem fond of being conned
They need to be told
The reason Brits abscond from the fold
Will break the mould
Skip this blip and let rip
A chip is hot and if not.. is cold
Such umami gold is actually factually
A crisp!
Our gung ho American foe
Will still go & crow..
Blimey those slimy Limeys
We’re the aficionado…so no bravado
Must surely know a chip is always
Made I’m afraid of purely potato
(unless I guess if its chips at a casino)
Displayed for trips in dips
Not just crud dud spud chips
Bud..could be made of wheat
Sworn am often torn
Could be swayed by corn
Synthetic aesthetic can’t beat
Heart attack in a pack food p*rn
If Polenta is the mentor.. its a chip
But if some parsnip you did flip
In oil then it is definitely…definitively a crisp
Got a hunch that if for
Lunch.. earlier at brunch
Or just for a munch
Thick or thin as a wisp
If it does go crunch
Then it’s crisp
Not being trippy.. dippy or too lippy
Don’t be hasty and haughty
Nothing beats..tasty treats
Seriously salty.. deliriously naughty eats
That's why we say crispy.. not chippy
P.S ..The only crispy beast feast
Where’s there is no hackling
Tackling or shackling
A snack as a chip or a crisp
No cackling…is when it’s crackling
Oops somehow a new row hatching..isn't
Fried pig skin..a pork scratching
But Colombian cronies are dispatching
Such phony baloney..there's no matching
The show ponies that are chicharrones
*Being Conned*
Written: by “Miracle Man”
7/16/2018
My entire life I’ve considered myself high strung,
So I’m weary of people who treat me as if dung.
Some people borrow money without repay intent,
Then ask “can I work it out” once it’s been spent.
They look at me and see how I’ve been blessed,
And wanting a slice of my pie they become my pest.
A truism, “A fool and his money are soon parted”
Many times I’ve paid a price for having been bighearted.
I lend and repayment time bears attached strings,
Foolish people lend money so others can do foolish things.
I help the downtrodden sometimes questioning why?
While knowing, “There but For the Grace of God, Go I”
You're a student of psychology
but apply the knowledge horribly.
That makes you a novice and I've noticed
you're easy and obvious to read.
You did not succeed at this subject you studied.
Time after time you called me a martyr,
but you never got the reaction you were after,
I carried on with a head full of laughter,
playing mind games undetected by the master.
You think you learn from books that tell you stuff,
but you're just to unaware for it to pay off enough.
Your ignorance makes a big difference,
you think you've more significance,
with higher knowledge than the rest,
and so much wiser they can't contest,
but your heads caught up in a mist,
and the result of this cloud, important things are missed,
like you being a narcissist.
While you're always busy searching out others,
you stand exposed without a cover,
and we can see you,
you're see through,
seeking issues,
you seep through
to an angle you use,
that makes you look abused,
and you become a victim,
and what precludes is attention and sympathy,
that you've induced from a pathological path you follow pathetically.
You can't confront your own flaws,
so you outsource and call others fools,
but these flaws are yours, you insult for no reason at all,
and it makes you look small, insecure and comical,
but to you in your head you're on the ball,
you can't be conned but you can con people.
Whilst intent on working out intentions you are unintentionally transparent,
so whilst you think you've mastered a skill the world can see you haven't.
You think you've mastered the psychology of the head,
but the fact is, it went passed and over your simple little head.
Tina learnt to knit her own sweater
Instructions followed to the letter
Many stitch she did drop
Gave too many a strop
When made looked like been through a shredder
Next she wanted to learn to crochet
Make flowers tied into a bouquet
Got her yarn in a twist
Knots and ties would not shift
But did look like a crochet toupee
Decided to learn how to hand sew
With pretty ribbon make a hairbow
Kept pricking her finger
Soreness pain did linger
Her fingers now size of her elbow
Not to give up, tried live art drawing
Felt that was her natural calling
Excited and nervous
Felt hot as a furnace
Of male model on all fours posing
No dangly bits was shown to be drawn
Disappointed felt little bit conned
She drew him very well
All her friends she did tell
As an artist was were she belonged.
18.12.20
I am not the only one,
Which gives me comfort,
And I am so glad I have a purpose in life,
And then more I give to that purpose,
The more sure I am it is so.
I find more people with the same purpose
Every day,
Off course we seldom have time to stop for a cup of tea,
As carrying out our designated purpose in life,
Comes with risk,
If we slow down,
And end up with a backlog of other peoples work,
Or if the cat is let out of the bag,
About our seemingly sole purpose in life.
Probably our own fault for not hiding our talent,
For being conned into doing other peoples work,
And being born with good eyesight,
Plenty of foresight,
And the need to show off our abilities ,
Instead of hiding them under a bush,
When the majority are getting paid for sitting pretty,
Using their talents to give us a purpose in life.
I just wish those in charge of our taxes,
Had more oversight on who wins the lolly scramble,
As a dollar for every hour spent doing other peoples
jobs for them would be appreciated.
But of course they too are staying true to their purpose in life.
It is so nice to have a purpose in life,
I cant recommend it enough,
If you have keen sense of irony,
As doing others work for them,
Increases life expectancy by decades,
So nice to have found my purpose in life.
I have just been Christmas shopping
I have had enough
Of traipsing around the shops
Looking at all the stuff
Stuff is what I call it
I don't know how else
That describes the tacky rubbish
That adorns every shelf
Where is the Christmas spirit
And the festive cheer
All I heard were moans and groans
Everything so dear
People looked worried
Many look concerned
Trying to make ends meet
On money that they've earned
Perhaps it was the weather
The temp was 42
Shopping in the air-conned stores
Seemed to be the sensible thing to do
I could not blame the weather
That would be unfair
I suppose it didn't help
To stop the anxiousness out there
Young and old were sitting down
Resting and mopping their brow
Rubbing swollen ankles
Trying to get as much relief
As the heat would allow
I came back exhausted
Feeling hot and sad
Thoughts of Christmas of years gone by
And the joyous time we had
Everything was simple
Done with loving care
Most people were working class
Always ready to care and share
With others who had even less
A spiritual feeling of kindness and goodness
Is it only me that feels this loss of divinity
Too much materialism
Too little Holy Trinity
I wrote this some time ago
In the modern age
Of canvassing
Before Political Elections
Isn't it funny ?
How threat's seem to happen
To National Security
So strength and leadership can be
Viewed and manipulated
Into placing your X in a Box
Like a cunning fox
You had me at Scared
The groundwork has been prepared
For total submission
Unequivocally without reason
It's hunting season
And the masses are the target
Are. you a patriot
Hail the all conquering Leader
Are you a true believer
Are you willing to put hate before love
Because you have been provoked to
Are we sheep
Do we bleat
Or do we speak
The voice of 1
Or can we overcome
Or are we valued less
Than gas and oil
And paper money
And conned into propping up it
Clumsy knock about clown endears
Bubble blown, unicycling, tightrope dance
Underneath charisma, after the cheers
Grinning sinister inkling stirs up fears
Guise causes unnerved scare's enhance
Aside from a smattering of film features
What strikes terror of tumbling funny fool?
Stealth beguiling starshine easily beseeches
Skillful smiling juggler, charm widely reaches
Clapping audience, varied susceptible pool
Cunning assists any intended criminal
Never ending hanky story, needed device
Whilst being appeased, message subliminal
Strategy of fake face, stab in back abysmal
Convinced victims fall for honk nosed entice
Misgiving for characters larger than life
Natural response, harks prehistoric origins
Gleam eyed charmer warns of looming strife
Cuts familiars with pantaloon stashed knife
Trust's betrayal, robbed ones acknowledging
Faith in flamboyant rubber flower thruster burst
Smack faced shock of a dozen popped balloons
Act of slapstick big shoed tricks well rehearsed
Damaged willing givers wish they thought first
Listen to their instinct, instead of lullaby croon
Written 29th July 2020 for Brian Strand's
Any Form, Any Theme, Completely New, Volume 15
Today I am reminded that
How we were spoiled rotten brats
Going to school
Acting cool
Hair groomed
Singing our favorite tune
Getting acceptable grades
Flaunting what we made
Soon tassels turned
Degree diplomas fairly earned
Salary expected owed
Only decision ‘what job to go’
Reality approached
Wearing the teacher’s Broche
What are you going to do?
Academic years are through
Goose’s eggs were out there
Went to all the job fairs
Nothing fit
Here I sit
On the curb
Realizing I am just one in the herd
Wrong something went
Exhausted time spent
No longer an owner, I rent
Committed, struggle I must
Bank account in God we trust
Is a total bust
Creating a financial stain
Credit rating seriously to blame
Was it the economy?
That blurred what I see
Or the unproven theory one conned me
Climbing the company umbrella tree
Flipping through the books
Should I learn how to microwave cook
Priority to clean this up now
Take the positive professional bow
Needing to think
Decided refreshment wanted to drink
While pondering the ways of the world
A girl
Walked into the scene
I figure, ‘she was looking for green’
“Dad, do you have my check?”
She asked noticing me as a wreck
“What is your name?”
She made the first move in our game
“Roger
And I am a dodger”
Is what I replied
Observing her, almost die
I am a dem bum too
A giant fool
Conversation began
Being each other’s fan
Still Bleeding from the kidnapping spear
Concluding finishing our beer
They are not coming back
Sadly true, was the fact
Only one thing was left
Look like a well-suited ref
Wear pinstripes with pride
Carrying a briefcase acting like we tried
Accepting the Metropolitans as who they are
Cheering inside the local Queen’s bar
As for those former Highlanders, who were the best
I will confess
It is success
Is how we dress
And no one around here should imitate a corporate mess