Long Connive Poems
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Why me father/daughter relationship
important to this papa
Fourteen and a half years
since death of mother (mine),
nary one iota of communication
in general and compassion
in particular while
she lived, now wears
heavy and yokes
mantle fostering tears
indirectly sabotaging rapport
with eldest daughter
futility doth arise uttering
feeble secular prayers,
cuz interaction with mother,
whose vehemence more
deafening than banshee killdeers
exceeding threshold of
decibels tolerable these ears.
Now comeuppance came
full family circle, yes
that's her within picture frame,
when young, innocent, and beautiful,
decades before terminal
illness rendered her
incapacitated and lame.
Her second of
three born offspring,
and yours truly
that singular boy
figuratively tethered himself
to her apron strings,
which near omnipotent
biochemical bond her
rancor would destroy,
when lonesome son
failed to employ
purported adult responsibilities
solitary without any
even one homeboy
never knowing how
to maximize potential
rather totally tubular at loss
advantageously to deploy
supposed ducks in a row
always imp pond
durable feeling cast ahoy
shore lee within alien nation,
whereby village people
observe an exceptionally
unresponsive immovable
lad - qua zee decoy
analogous to stonewall,
albeit socially withdrawn
emotionally, physically,
and socially retracting
exhibiting no joy,
nor any audible,
tactile or visible life
stockstill like an
abandoned broken toy.
Silence spoke volumes mainly
I don't wanna be alive
antithetical to that basic
instinct to survive
protestations arose deliberately
minus figurative parachute,
I took kamikaze nosedive
a couple years after two times five
orbitz astride planet Earth
ne'er did amity, comity,
fraternity ever jive,
nope not even pleasant hello
would fake deaf/mute contrive
interaction between kith and kin
affection toward parents
and siblings (two sisters,
not twisted) I did deprive,
whence fast forward decades later,
a metaphorical wedge would drive
roughshod o'er kinship,
when fatherhood did arrive
though "star student" did connive
him (me) to test discomfort zones,
yet more often than not inclusive
integration abandoned among
linkedin with kindling explosive
smoldering volcano found
wicked volatility expressive.
Donald trump = pathological psychopath
Fred Trump taught his sole son Donald
how to steal the leading way into more ass,
though no hint given, nor prediction forecast
in his growing up years, that would foretell,
thru base anaphylactic cronyism, egotistical
gall insidious kleptomania call, malodorous
Machiavellian offal obnoxious quintessential
skullduggery, unfair wicked yik yak zeal
to wield selfishness, a mean mogul with brass,
who would unstintingly live up to his surname,
and trump every law in the books of jurisprudence
and crass bend avast set of constitutional laws
to feed his ferocious fealty to the all mighty dollar
flaunting, fleecing, and flipping the welfare
of those (he deemed must serve him
his insatiable hunger) to connive, dictate,
and expedite his hell bent assiduity,
an empire fit for a King, who felt no aversion
to mollycoddle, peddle, and wheedle
any zealous contractual obligation
(immediately abrogated), and concoct fabrications
vis a vis, a visa versa MasterCard his
American Express shun re: the art of the raw
FitBit (if necessary browbeating, depriving,
forfeiting meting out legally obligated pay
whenever an inconvenient truth awoke
in his noggin reneging fiduciary promises
to the risk-taking, moon shining, toiling citizens
ala Indian giving per many an unfair deal
exuding crass with especial treatment
to withhold wages for his (held in check)
Polish laborers, who built his city on rock and rolling
stock – so a Starship emblazoned with
outsize ego of an exploiter with no pay
to his backbreaking Polish construction
motley crue nor even mucho grassy us
for erecting his empire now ranked in
billions of dollars unfairly pointing a finger
to berate, dictate and finagle foreigners
(illegal immigrants, he would now boot
out of this country) to carry out drudgery
with hungry stomachs growling at slave wages,
lamentably plodding since any other employer
might question their vlsa status, hence anger
boils within this generic human enraged
his wealth squeezed from every last drop
of said craftsman, now if still alive old and
broken men crushed by the mighty
self proclaimed dictator of the proletariat,
whose hollow being blind sides those
he stares down, yet beware all that glitters ain't gold!
Telling "White Lies"
My mother got born November
thirteenth, nineteen hundred thirty five
within poverty stricken household
of Canarsie, Brooklyn, the youngest
(most mollycoddled) of four siblings,
experienced grinding poverty, no
matter maternal grandfather (Moishe
Kuritsky), a tailor he lacked drive
(and felt neutral about stitching
together gainful employment)
to support his family two parents +
remainder offspring, he helped sire
lacked positive role models, none the
less gumption taught her to strive
at tender age livid with rage to escape
caricature living poor, thus sought
employment when/wherever sheik hood
if necessary fibbed to survive
plus rash of healthy nurturing, and
absolute zero constraints, perhaps five
or thereabout years old attested
much later, suspected her papa did jive
with unspeakable improper behavior
(nobody dare discuss taboo issues),
yet intuition awoke within immoral
conclusion Harriet Kuritsky did arrive,
and perhaps resorted to stretching
the truth (fibbing a "white lie") the only
recourse available plied sweet innocence
knowing little or nothing about birds
feathering their nest, nor little about
buzzfeeding activity in beehive
naivete flirtatious coyness advantage worked,
I bet young thang did connive
and probably never did contemplate,
deliberate, generate and wrongdoing,
where mother of necessity spurred
angelic demureness strategy to contrive
securing bare necessities, hence fast
forward, when unsolicited advice given
to this sole son, or either sibling, (an older
& younger sister) tactics upbringing did deprive
ma mum of positive role models, hence
only blueprint to acquire essential needs
serendipitous series of unfortunate events
before Lemony Snicket did derive
school of hard knocks, (I do believe
formerly called Abraham Lincoln High)
rather than impugn, judge, revile, et cetera
kernels/nuggets of wisdom memory did revive
within my mind for rhyme, nor reason
blunt honesty, not always best policy
despite ten commandments
to husbands with many a wive.
Life lesson learned meant blurred line
between mendacity and truth
courtesy upbringing mommy dearest
if repeatedly drummed into me noggin
brutal honesty will bring nothing but bupkis,
or if you prefer the Yiddish spelling bobkes.
Happiness, happiness, happiness
The one thing we all seek
What does it really mean
The million tonnes of gold we hoard
Or the millions of cash stashed in a bank’s vault
Fleets of expensive cars cruising the streets
Or diamond ornaments glittering for all to see
Big parties on yachts and clouds just to please
Or a program on tevee just so they may see who it really is
All these yet at the end of the day the heart is still not at ease
The look within doesn’t satisfy nor please
So what really is missing
Happiness surely does exist
And the truth is that there isn’t a price to it
Just a smile and a honest heart spreads the enthusiasm with ease
Hearts can’t be bought but friendships can be bribed
It’s a choice we all must make
To live at ease in adequate means
Or to cheat and connive to acquire wealth built of lies
At the end of it all, the only room big enough is the one in your soul
At the end of the day
...the only compliment worth to be heard is that which you give yourself
The only true best friend one can have is the one in the mirror
For with that friend is where happiness begins
How can you love others if you can’t love yourself
How can I honestly appreciate others if I can’t appreciate myself
How can they find happiness if they don’t know what it means
Happiness is the only thing that the blind can see
...better than the ones who see
Happiness is the only thing that the deaf can hear
...better than those who hear
Happiness activates the limbs of the handicapped
While those appropriately moulded still don’t function efficiently in it
Happiness is a destination to which no one can cheat
For it requires a sincere pass in each and everyone’s mind and heart
You may cheat me with your smile
But you can’t cheat the you inside
It’s not about me, it’s not about us...It is about you
This reality is a syndicate for your happiness
Question is, do you recognise it
You can afford to buy off all your past
And keep it under lock and throw away the keys
What matters is now
...for it is here that happiness is to be found
Looking back only presents regrets
Looking ahead only presents worries
It is only when you are happy that tomorrow promises to be a blessing
Roll back the clock to Josef Locke
(and not before or after),
in climes where shrines have names like Knock
without provoking laughter.
My father was an army man
(and yet me to beget),
all spit-and-polish, spick-and-span,
and quite the martinet.
Those soldier boys were short on poise
in those benighted days:
the Murphys, Martins and Molloys
were raised in rustic ways.
But Duty Sergeant Kevin Coy,
vesuviously vocal,
was out to drum-head or destroy
each vermin-ridden yokel.
His boots could pass for lacquered glass,
his gloves would shame a surgeon:
his dignitas at morning Mass
outshone the Blessed Virgin.
Imagine, then, when Cousin Ben
(all NCOs were family)
provided gen beyond all ken
(with palms perspiring clammily):
“They’re on a charge. I told them, Sarge.
I threatened savage slaughters.
Le nettoyage. A smell at large
in Ballykelly Quarters.”
They hunted high, they hunted low,
they bled the radiators,
more ebb and flow could offer no
Projection of Mercator’s.
Just how to quell that awful smell
preoccupied them greatly:
hard to dispel, suspicion fell
on Houlihan, then Hateley.
Catch as catch can, they caught their man
(not Higgins, or O`Hara):
who’s down the pan? None other than
your man from Connemara.
What Ryan knew was equal to
a peat-bog sown with barley:
he’d not a clue – “What? Put on new
bejeezers, regularly?”
His first long-johns remained the ones
adorning regions nether:
six months now gone, he still had on
the same ones, altogether.
“Wear other pairs? These stink – who cares?”
What’s harder to believe
is, unawares, his thighs’ black hairs
had grown quite through the weave!
“He’s now cashiered for being weird –
why then, we’ll depilate him.”
His locks were sheared, and then his beard,
and pubis, seriatim.
Thus Ryan, Sean, of Shirley born,
his gonads wholly hairless,
is there to warn, so sheerly shorn:
a lesson to the careless.
Whatever sins the Pope rescinds,
or parish priests connive at,
sloth never wins. Redress begins
with Shaving Ryan’s Privates.
Telling "White Lies"
My mother got born November
thirteenth, nineteen hundred thirty five
within poverty stricken household
of Canarsie, Brooklyn, the youngest
(most mollycoddled) of four siblings,
experienced grinding poverty, no
matter maternal grandfather (Moishe
Kuritsky), a tailor he lacked drive
to support his family two parents +
remainder offspring, he helped sire
lacked positive role models, none the
less gumption taught her to strive
at tender age livid with rage to escape
caricature living poor, thus sought
employment when/wherever sheik hood
if necessary fibbed to survive
plus rash of healthy nurturing, and
absolute zero constraints, perhaps five
or thereabout years old attested
much later, suspected her papa did jive
with unspeakable improper behavior
(nobody dare discuss taboo issues),
yet intuition awoke within immoral
conclusion Harriet Kuritsky did arrive,
and perhaps resorted to stretching
the truth (fibbing a "white lie") the only
recourse available plied sweet innocence
knowing little or nothing about birds
feathering their nest, nor little about
buzzfeeding activity in beehive
naivete flirtatious coyness advantage worked,
I bet young thang did connive
and probably never did contemplate,
deliberate, generate and wrongdoing,
where mother of necessity spurred
angelic demureness strategy to contrive
securing bare necessities, hence fast
forward, when unsolicited advice given
to this sole son, or either sibling, (an older
& younger sister) tactics upbringing did deprive
ma mum of positive role models, hence
only blueprint to acquire essential needs
serendipitous series of unfortunate events
before Lemony Snicket did derive
school of hard knocks, (I do believe
formerly called Abraham Lincoln High)
rather than impugn, judge, revile, et cetera
kernels/nuggets of wisdom memory did revive
within my mind for rhyme, nor reason
blunt honesty, not always best policy
despite ten commandments
to husbands with many a wive.
analogous to expending precious Air Supply
embellishing, modifying, revising, et cetera
a poem crafted about fourteen months ago.
I take stock and revisit good ole days of yore
quite conscious undeclared state of war
prevails within body (Electric
Light Orchestra) of troubadour,
whereby creative juices did perforce pour
forth as if sung by one man koor;
now he haply seated at his Macbook Pro
today April 29th, 2022
accompanied with Christopher Robin,
Winnie the Pooh, and Eeyore.
Since January thirteenth of this year
(two thousand and twenty two),
yours truly suddenly feels
long in the tooth, i.e. auld,
he whose decrepit body and
gnarled hands ice cold
senility and senescence doled
rigor mortis virtuous vice grip extolled
coronavirus (COVID-19) motherlode
courtesy geomorphology dynamism fold
analogous to discovered vein of mined gold
grim reaper with scythe doth silently infold
(in Old English, scythe spelled siðe)
ore yonder church bell knolled
anonymous beat nickles less,
dime a dozen, day late
and dollar short sexagenarian
dropped out of Culture Club
(any strong resemblance between said poet
whose Grateful Dead head lolled,
and once living person purely coincidental)
death and decay, I lichen to mold
meself finally nill and void nolde
of unwanted excessive fleshy flab
scant personal possessions outsold
to highest bidder polled.
Dead weatherbeaten and fatigued soul
with absolute zero regret
no longer being alive,
immortality impossible mission to connive,
especially when endurance and stamina
took kamikaze nose dive
formerly earthlinked buzzfeeding
desiccated honeycomb hive
in tandem with former anxiety riddled psyche
need no longer worry
his existence perfect example
how hardship did misthrive
death be not proud penultimate quest
since adolescence (think anorexia nervosa)
he did (unsuccessfully) strive.
No more invisible speechless, deaf and blind child
With neglected pleasures being addicted to denial
Floating through time, gravitating towards a warm arm
With an appetite for the emptiness that promises no harm
No more uncontrollable eruptions of emotional depression
A primal S.O.S. from the barren prison of selfless expression
that only the guilty with the innocent
Souls-know buried in social scar tissue of defective ego
No more relentless sifting through bodies seeking self
Settling through competitive combat for what's left on the shelf.
A mad melee of supply and demand driven by gullible pride that
leads to sedating the you that suffocates inside
No more - forever no more - because I've unshut my eyes
And the differences between God's word and Man's Wills was realized
Seeing opposing parallel lives some liquid, other frozen. Let me to never
seek from man what God has chosen.
Then the negative whispering subsided and the panicking ceased
the undercurrent suppression of pent-up terror was released as the
mystery of the unknown manifested pristine clear A positive message
of truth entered my ear
Now, across my face is a brand new smile
With a newly revealed meaning of a "Destine Child"
A message of hope is being released from my Heart
And I am overwhelmed with dedication to do my part
All I ever wanted was to be as I once was - Unbounded
Somehow it got all twisted and before long sounded
As though life was continuous connive-thrive-drive
Choking out the simple joy of just being alive
Now I am filled with love and I sing a love song
A song for yesterday, today, tomorrow, and beyond
My new prayer is - Thank You God for setting Me Free
And Thank You God - For Giving Me back Me
Form:
Here I rise... Surrounded by souls but still all alone
Born just ramble and bound just to roam
Nothingness is my name and nowhere is my home
Here I rise...Like silver moons down the golden slots
So synthetic and superficial...screaming for the jackpot
Bright lights and big lies leave me stuck on the spot
Here I rise...Harsh words and hard times...just like a joint I smoke the rhythms and the rhymes
Riding higher than the heavens and then dropped hard just like a dime
Here I rise...There is no next time for me it's now or never as I become nocturnal as the day turns into night
I'm on the flip side of fear and on the wrong side of right
Here I rise...All I've got is just my word...wants they spread their wings
No time to cut the cord as a bad egg becomes a bird
Here I rise...Now I've tapped into a toilet where savage ones survive anyway that they can make it...where lions feast on lambs and twisted terror thrives
Here I rise...where coldness ones connive and they make their many monstrous moves one victim at a time
Here I rise...Where girls get on their gorgeous grooves...where the rubber meets the road...where blood stains the polished boots...where the metal meets the meat...where gangsters think they're gods
Here I rise...In salt pools full of screaming slugs...Going mad with agony like low down drugees with no drugs
Like shadows running from the spotlights...like melting ice cubes in the sun
Here I rise... Maladjusted and misguided...looking for that holy light still all alone and alienated
And when I ask the question...When will I leave this life?
There it is now I can see eternal eyes
No more sorrow No more sadness...Here I rise
Like some grinning mad ghost scratching at the side door of your senses
Begging to come inside to bring you wrath and wickedness
Bringing cold where it's warm
Bringing scariness where it's safe and secure
Bringing scattered shouts where it's silent and serene
Sociosarcastic...an all star symphony
Wind outside your window...whispering your name
Spotlights upon your hiding spots...in shadows now you scream
You conquer and connive...now you run away and hide
Paranoia is your prize
Like that feeling of being followed by something savage and so silent
Invisible are the invaders that slowly make your mind turn violent
Faintly you can hear the violins...they play upon your virtues and your vice
Muscle bound a monstrous man now minimized to mice
Dropped the dice one too many times...now time comes to a stop
The clock is a creep that's laughing louder
Madness minutes make you mutter
In the gutter with your gold
In the sewer with your silver
Your mindless moans of misery get mocked by dancing mimes
Dropped just like a dime
Paranoia is your prize
Like waking from a nasty nightmare just to discover you're in another
The litter of your lunacy leaves you running from the devil
Down on Lucifers level you earned your wages in evil
There is no way out from confusions soul cage
Once an eagle now a vulture
Filthy rich and ruthless down in retarded sub cultures
Empty are your eyes as you stare at a muddy mirror
Cracked and convoluted
Now twisting in your terror
Last brain cell is cooking fast like bubbles in a boiling pot
Above the surface of your many sins...now you'll never rise
Dumfounded in the darkness
Paranoia is your prize