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.
The man I love
doesn't know my name
Conned
What does that mean
It means illusion and dillussion
It means lies that live like a vine on a tree
swirling around the trunk
Fingering the branches
Basking in the life force of the beautiful tree
The vine
It grows telling the tree they are lovers
Entwining slowly and ever gently
It grows
The tree enjoys the company
Thinking
This is my friend my partner
Let us join together
Let us grow together
Let us take up more room
We will be more ...more leaves
We can take in more light together!!!
Till the tree starts to choke
Just a little at first
then more and more each day there is less oxygen
Until it's lower branches start to fade
It's Leaves are less green
It starts to choke more
And it turns to its so beloved friend
and says
I feel unwell
But vine says
Oh you are so beautiful
So tall and gifted
Look what poetic leaves you make
Tree blushes and let's the vine hug it tighter
And tree feels loved
It says to itself I am needed
I am essential
Look how vine loves me
look it hugs me holds me
We are a true pair!!!
But tomorrow comes and tree can't breath
Tree says to vine I know you love me but can you
gently loosen your hug
because I am not able to breath
Vine says
You are my life
You are my love
Don't you love me?
Am I not loving and holding and embracing you
just as you needed?
I am everything you said you wanted
Tree can't argue but with every day grows weaker
Unable to breath and no longer with enough oxygen
It starts to fade
Vine says
Hey buddy look how full we are
Man I feel great my leaves are super green
I am reaching the sky with your help
Look at me at the top of the world
But tree is too weak to argue
It whispers
Vine I love you
Vine says
Oh man isn't this an incredible view
and stretching further to the sun fails to notice
that tree
No longer answering
Vine thrives and thrives and forgets to talk to tree
Tree turns brown
Vine notices tree is less attractive
thinks it's age
Vine feels vibrant and attractive and giant and unstoppable
Vine thinks it has moved beyond tree
Look at me know it thinks as it reaches for bigger trees
Near by
But then suddenly tree is cut down for fire wood
and vine is cut back and cut down as well
Crying out
Why why why
as it is hauled away
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!)
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
This poem is not meant to be a speech nor is it written to offend or give anyone blame.
It just a mere observation of how today leaders choose to bring civilasation back into the slave trade.
What a confusion of misconception when one term is mistaken in conversation.
Horrors of slavery now waterdowned for modernization.
Underpaid abuse workers identified as no different from mass excavation from African nations.
How can slavery still exist when slaves broke the law back then.
And now modern slaves can use the law to protect them
Still we debate how to eradicate slavery.
Without the admittance of our desrire for more for less
Still we debate, but not on how propaganda can work for our interest.
How can shackles and chains, branded and slained
Be compared to smuggle and threatened, low pay and mistreated.
Imagine generations of babies born into slavery with no prospect of ever knowing anything different
Imagine seeking refuge, better life but being tricked into cheap labour.
Absolute sub human bondage that we wont tolerate for our wildest of wildlife
Force to work long hours with minimum pay so stakeholders can get their share.
Cotton picker slaves, plantation slaves, breeding slaves, game slaves under institutions designed to seek maximum gained whilst inflicting maximum pain.
Started out seeking refuge and a better life but conned into taking a different path of trouble and strife.
Sold to the highest bidder in auction houses, record kept for compensation and ownership.
Smuggle underground,whilst living next door in total hardship.
Nowadays, topic,how to end modern day slavery.
Back then was how to universaly enforce it.
Nowadays slavery,redemption and even compensation.
Back then not even criminalization only normalisation.
Slavery means seveitude multiply by desititute then magnify it by four hundred years equals privileges with blood stain riches.
Exploitations means, starting with gratitude trick into solitude minus Non Gratis equals affordability without resposibility.
Please stop trying to rewrite history with mystery
Inorder to patronized your higher devious morality.
Ted Weymouth rang me up to see, if I could do a job he had…
‘His trucks broken down’ he said, so I told Ted ‘I’d be glad
to do a favour for a mate’, he said. ‘It’s ‘Grubby’ Alcorn’s place.
A load of posts!’ Lord I’ve been had…‘Grubby’s’ a real hard case.
‘Grubby’ lived out in the ‘back-blocks’, where the roads are bloody rough,
Ted had ‘conned’ this job for me to do, where I heard one trips enough.
It took me bloody hours. I reckon Ted’s enjoying this with mirth.
I broke a spring and so the trip, cost more than the job was worth.
We threw the posts off near a shed, from there ‘twas my desire,
to get to buggery out of here… I asked ‘Grub’ for some fencing wire
to wind ‘round the spring to hold it tight, praying to God it might
hold everything together, until I got home that night.
“Come inside and have a drink”, ‘Grubby’ beckoned ‘cross to me.
I looked him up and down then thought, ‘I don’t like what I see’.
‘Grubby’ looked like he had wallowed, with pigs beside their sties...
When I walked inside I’ve got to say, I got one ‘heck’ of a surprise.
Every dish was washed and packed away. The sink was spotless clean,
each cup hung upon their little hook, glasses sparkled with a sheen.
Flowers ‘Grubby’ picked stood in a vase, on a table-cloth embodied gold.
‘Grubby’ asked me if I wanted tea, or would I like something cold.
I felt much more at ease now, in this clean environment,
it seemed like chalk to cheese, from outside when I had spent
an hour’s work with ‘Grubby’, so I said, “I think you ‘oughta’
pour me out a nice cold drink of lemon cordial and water.”
I took a swig and puckered; the lemon tasted kind of *****.
My drink really wasn’t pleasant, more like a bad home beer.
Must be just my taste buds because the weathers fairly hot,
so I upended quick the ten ounce pot and drank the flamin’ lot.
I said to ‘Grubby’ “That’s average, I’ve not had cordial like that before.
Or could it be your water mate; do you pump it from a bore?”
“Nar” said ‘Grub’ “the water’s fine now, though a week ago was rank.
The taste is getting better since… I dragged the possum from the tank.”
A cupola shin, prickly dick creed, hoary
testes tossed, master baiting ova all eel trades
crossed the fecund Rubicon and ejaculated
olly olly oxen yawping, in utero seminal raids
with phallic coup d’etat that buck came vasocongested spades
lit torch, where hello kitty Ernst lee screeched
amidst Grafenberg tit parades
bumping uglies during four nuke key eight ting game
where pinkish puckered two lips viz biological
Russian roulette played – birth control relegated as desuetude
hotly contested fee conned, caved heat seminal blitzkrieg overlaid
bilging swamped,
whence olds eye goat ruff fused exiting nightshade
shy ham mull in, and gave way to blast ta cyst
vis a visa viz biological fertilization qua two plump milkmaids
from inchoate seeds juiced beginning
to compress bladder re: lemonades
per diem mother via umbilical cord fueling gestation,
where sonogram shows faint genetic threnody skein
perchance manifold jades
nope – no fallacy when peppy thrust with sucks esse full feint
after thwarting objection against skin flute charmed thence invades
which begot conception from chromosomal traits stitched
via jean S, and her faction of trumpeting handmaids
whose fecund ditty began to feel swell as biological reproduction
showed no uterine back grades
as Tabula rasa In utero endured fusillades per what mother tubby ingested
sustenance promulgated noticeable womb dar full expansion fusillades
of nutriments ordaining future health of progeny
riddling endless questions within the gallimaufry
discombobulated mental, physical fatigue enfilades
and spiritual state of momma me ya in tha family way, whereby baby blueprint an outcome as nano sized atomic bombshells scoured decades
to determine the ontological makeup from when the fluid dynamics
spelling impregnation since time immemorial and into the future cascades
artfully concatenating eminent grise immaculate kindred laminated with waxy substance i.e. vernix, though smooth
doth serve analogous to microscopic switch-blades.
Form:
Do you ever get the feeling ya being watched
Do you ever get to sleep if ya dream of demons creeping up
Do you measure yourself by the strength of your faith that you keep in god
Have you forgotten the meaning of what it is to be deep in love
Is it a problem it seems it's the meaning that you forgot
Should it be dropped are we even when my feelings turn mean and they erupt
Will we stop speaking for the reason we're feeling lost and lose feelings from not speaking yet keep strings with the feeling they're needing cut
Was feeling touched like I'm blessed but the feelings gone
Was being conned by the gods now I'm bleeding bronze
Staying tough wanting this honour to be enough
Seeing how cross I got yas the reason ya don't keep in touch
I'm seeing whats wrong with me frequently from these Ill stunts
Seeking out some help from the people who think I'm nuts
You think I've stopped, forgave and forgot but you forget I remember everything that we ever lost its what we had and we tossed I think about every day replaying it from the top wanting to stomp it out of my brain
It drives me insane look at the lunitic who's losing
his mind it's a shame
Man this isn't a game you'll find I'm playing but my chips are at stake
You needed me around so often so locked me in a prisoners cage until the building blocks of our foundations started splitting from weight
These dangerous grounds are quaking so now I'm drifting away
Because if I had stuck it out with you and things didn't change from laying a new foundation to begin again I'd be crazy I've seen the pain when it wasn't hidden away, stripped or reshaped and the holes you dug were escavated like you were digging our graves
Maybe one day you'll see it differently and see I didn't rejoice
I remember listening to you when you were different with me when I had an opinion to voice I know you'll think about it differently then clearly know I hadn't a choice because why should I be killed by something that I can not destroy.
The path that's walked by narcissists is one they think we've missed,
it delivers them from hardship and gifts a life of bliss.
They learned through truth they're vulnerable, so truth they wont admit,
without the fear life's wonderful and they think that they've nailed it.
Protection undetectable so they fully commit,
they wont be made a spectacle up high on the summit.
They start deflecting blame making others the suspect,
and lie in vain to make it seem that they are just perfect.
Excuses become their weapon and diverting attention,
they put the blame on anyone who they can make look dumb.
They use their words as evidence lying ways are blunt,
glowing with a confidence assured they're intelligent.
Relying on delusion they shape reality,
but people see delusion and question sanity.
People start to cotton on to what they are doing,
and they will say you've got it wrong as they lie about lying.
They've a clear transparency, we all know what's happening,
they continue like a tragedy, they wont admit a thing.
Standing their ground long enough, until you stop asking,
when they believe they've mastered bluffs, carving out a win.
The fear is still irrelevant, unchallenged like a king,
ignoring all the evidence in what the people think.
They think they control reputations, pulling on the strings,
their cold use of manipulation, their power clearly shrinks.
By now they feel entitled and believe they're bulletproof,
blind to all their rivals, those people that they've used.
Surprised when you challenge them, left angry and confused,
they rise enraged but powerless desperate to abuse.
Revealing all their cowardice, there's nothing they can do,
exposing their empowered lust, as all they had they lose.
This is how the Empath destroys the Narcissist,
they may seem conned but they have grasped exactly what exists.
Thinking that your rightful place was wearing the crown,
but you chose dishonesty and it all came tumbling down.
we all have our ups and downs
enjoyed in lesser detail on the upswing
and greater granularity on the corresponding
and subsequent regress to various terrors
the trick is to not obsess and get conned
into the notion of a salvation delivered
by the hand of some Babylonian phantom
all you gotta do is put 2 and 2 together
though finding a 2 that is worth a nickel
could take you an entire youth and middle age
just to get the broken pieces lined up
into a mosaic resembling tomorrow
minus the short circuit spitting sparks
and the usual fluidity of meaning
which will blind-curse your attention
until all air has leaked from the safari tire
until a burst of ketchup feeds the dingo chorus
with a mustard happy face smiling bright
down upon the tree stumps and gravestones
and we all light our farts around the camp fire
to keep our metabolism from turning to Jell-O
allowing the completion of our assignment
to exceed every limit and come back alive
in my case they recovered a hand and an eye
after an encounter with an interstate hauler
freighting a load of maniacal rodents
destined for the blasphemous inventory
at mad Dr. Belknap's zoological mystery garden
Belknap perpetually mourned the loss of spring
funneled his urge for diemortality as he termed it
into a series of undecorous vocal exercises
that often and here found their way into print
but his laboratory marginalia were in tatters
contents time after time eroded away by betrayal
a price placed by lot upon the head of justice
pegged to the free fall of every banker's dollar
making the shadows thick with ignorance
and the tapping telegraph's tremorous alert
arch culprit hopping the Cannonball Express
a Wall St. carte blanche under one arm
and a refrigerated carton of celestial telepathy
under the other in an act of subtle befuddlement
me and the banshee boys waylaid him
in the struggle from birth to now
and I wear his watch around my neck
so he commemorates every swallow
Blandishments eroded invaluable necessary treasured alms
Existential nihilism rent psyche asunder
courtesy unforeseen deadly bombs
lobbed by computer hacker and scammer
rolled into one nasty,
short and brutish lout,
whereby his aggrieved targeted victim
experiences absolutely zero qualms.
Though common horse sense
I generally applaud
within these lovely bones
an undersize fellow whose forehead broad
methinks perchance twenty first century
can witness remake of Exosquad
linkedin with mental, physical,
and spiritual fiasco fraud
no doubt grist for the cinematic mill
made for movie of the week,
where prominent product placement
of once iconic iPod,
but illustrious position
in Apple's product lineup
came to an end.
Apple finally killed the “iPod” brand,
just over twenty years
since original introduction in 2001
creating perfectly fitting
pièce de résistance jigsawed
replaced by smartphones,
such as the iPhone,
which can both store music
and access music streaming services
such as Spotify and Apple Music.
Nevertheless, and despite efforts
to exorcise mailer daemons
rage against the machine
that doth mauraud,
while a tempest blows
furious in my mind as well outside,
thus I gladly nod
acknowledgement toward Mother Nature
for natural timely spatial effects
bending boughs analogous to quad
of cheerleaders executing tricks
while accompanying color guards
exhibit purposeful antics done roughshod
for the benefit of mister Kite.
Distraction writing reasonable rhyme
temporarily offsets carbon footprint
to stomp furiously on account of cyber crime
wracking noggin how I could be lame
easily being conned, dogged,
goaded, hectored, kick/jump started, ...
now yours truly haint gotta dime
to his name, attributed to fool hardiness
poached, fried, embezzled...
oh that human slime
letting him manipulate me
as if he pointed gun -
which spelled "BANG"
when fired, now triggers
profound unnecessary anguish.