Long Conniving Poems
Long Conniving Poems. Below are the most popular long Conniving by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Conniving poems by poem length and keyword.
They who claim to have seen or been abducted by space aliens
are either very delusional or are just plain and simply lying
or they may have been deceived by others most conniving.
These aliens possess a torso, four limbs and a head for a body
and these are traits that have evolved here on planet earth only.
Every specie here on earth that displays a face
all have the same ancient common ancestor from whom they evolved that trait.
The odds of such similarities occurring in outer space beyond our reach
are profoundly astronomical at the very least.
I do however have one other theory
that may shed some light on this space alien query.
They are not space aliens at all. They are the future of humanity
who have traveled back in time to study their evolutionary history.
We now travel in automobiles where we once used horse and buggy.
We've created trains and airplanes so as to travel more quickly.
We now have the Internet whereupon we once depended on libraries only.
Our advancement is evolving exponentially.
So I ask you; Is time travel so inconceivable to be attained eventually?
Every so called alien looks like a clone to me.
Perhaps they are all fading out very slowly
and can no longer procreate as do we.
Cloning a clone is like making a photo copy of a photo copy.
The image through many generations begins to fade eventually.
So maybe they're abducting us to extract our DNA to preserve their specie.
As far fetched as this may sound, it makes scientific sense to me.
Our pristine, prissy, upscale dining room was almost never used.
And now it can’t be used for eating, for it is slightly junked and abused.
Dining room table is so long, it started to almost immediately collect....
So many items, that who has inclination or time to carefully inspect?
At first it was just an art project, or a button or two,
But then it was stacks of magazines, and material red, white and blue.
Our junk drawer became two, and three, and four.
And now we just put a few things in boxes stacked on the floor.
Yesterday I found Great Auntie Leigh’s French powder puff.
My sister discovered her Christmas stockings and holiday ****.
There are boxes in here that were not here this summer.
We do not eat here anymore, probably can’t now. What a bummer.
We have a path to the table, but not to the fancy schmancy chairs.
I am slamming the door before my husband comes down the stairs.
He has the illusion this place is tidy and clean, waiting for company.
I am afraid if he saw it he would suggest dusting or cleaning to me.
I jump from the chair, and fall flat on my sad little hands.
Discover six inch ball made of six thousand and two rubber bands.
Well, that is where you are! My husband says, poking in his nose.
He hops over some chairs and grabs up a cornet, taking some blows.
Your junk is in here too! I say, accusing him, trying to have a fit.
The dining room has never been used this much. This I have to admit.
We can never eat in here again, he says plunking down a box.
What is he trying to get away with now? That conniving old fox!
The flame of awareness is held by God,
which we cognise when fickle mind is still,
that ego vaporised, frigid heart thawed,
dove of love perches on soul’s window sill.
There is in truth nothing we need to do,
save remaining poised in the vibrant void,
mindfully sensing throb of bliss renew,
revealing our pristine Self unalloyed.
Thoughts are the blockage and once we know this,
feeling, not thinking, head and heart linking,
we are bestowed by Divine Mother kiss,
shifting us to awareness unblinking.
The difficulty is in letting go ~
Ego recedes when flow of thought is slow
***
Ego recedes when flow of thought is slow,
which reworded means we cease to exist,
save as a love mist reflecting God’s glow,
melding with vast space, ceasing to resist.
Now since we do not wish to disappear,
we continue flirtation with desire,
dwelling in darkness and harbouring fear,
remaining thus in bondage till we tire.
On realising there’s nothing out there,
we finally stop struggling and striving,
turning inward and becoming aware,
of lower mind and ego conniving.
For God it is enough, that we seek Him ~
It matters not if sight of soul is dim
***
It matters not if sight of soul is dim,
provided our heart is childlike and pure,
by day and night singing for God a hymn,
weeding away lust, making soul demure.
What happens then is this, suffused with bliss,
all nodes within form dance in unison;
the serpent rises, with a benign hiss
and we reclaim light of the central sun.
Our transmutation thus as living light,
is done when we choose with God to entwine,
whereupon we’re graced with spherical sight
and with His law of love gently align.
Beholding soul’s light within, we are awed ~
The flame of awareness is held by God
Joe and Shelly’s house is on fire!
It is simply and surely ablaze!
The flames are incessantly higher.
Yet we see him sitting there, in a daze.
Mr. Hamilton runs straight in there,
We see him through the transparent window.
He runs promptly back out with burning hair,
Did you get our neighbors Shelly and Joe?
You will not believe it he tells us.
A mannequin was in Joe’s chair.
Firemen come without a fuss.
The smell of smoke permeates the air.
Tables, computers, cherished photos too
Quickly curled up and died that night
Made Joe’s almost ex a little blue,
What he might do next gave her a fright.
Revenge Joe never came back, that conniving scamp.
He had cancelled his home owners’ insurance a month ago.
Enjoyed the rest of his days playing a guitar in a hobo camp
Making his fearful wandering wife a pauper, that little ‘ho.
Wild
is the night,
dressed in silk and satin,
perfumed with
opium drops of vanilla warmth~
a rippling reflection
of dragon desires,
where the heart sings
in sync with the jasmine notes
of soulful jazz and
hypnotic hints
of euphoric rhymes and
mystical muse,
while I sleep-waltz
within the grasp of silence,
engrossed in the crescendo
of crooning cosmos,
searching for a verse
to voice the flames
rising within my soul,
aching to taste the
clovers of hope
that you’ve served
in sparkling spoons~
once upon a wolf moon,
when I was left to freeze
like a tarnished topaz,
lost in the cold caves
of the scorpion sun.
I am the prose,
etched with ineffable metaphors,
that remains a mystery
to the eyes of kohl ice,
oblivious to the love
I write beneath wintry nights,
as twilight serenades serenity,
a mere song unknown
to the forest that burns
from the heat of the blazing breeze.
Yet I fear not the wicked fangs
of whirling storms,
for I have long been
the queen of darkness
that thrives in the midst of
conniving sands, soiled
with deceptive dust.
So let these thoughts
contrive an antidote
that sprinkles magic
to illuminate the wind,
slithering across the horizon,
like heinous scales
of the python prison,
painted as a
peridot paradise.
Perhaps through the confusion,
you'll feel my footprints~
longing for the softness
of lavender,
entwined
with
olive dreams...
GOODLUCK
Gutless muffled monarch wooed millions to the poll,
Oozing pathetic speech of poverty (I once had no shoes)
On congruent grounds we let him, though we hated his coterie.
Disappointed, we wail, waiting substitute to end the reign of quack
Lacklustre, insipid and a pervading naivety.
Unvaried captain rocks this boat, gagged by plunderers.
Circles of death, twinge, miseries the reign of a drab creek king
Kleptocracy adorning imposition,
EBELE
Embezzlers on rampage, holes bequeathed for pillaging.
Bandits as conniving ministers besmirched obtuse scamp
Egregious craven shrieked at the sound of war “I am not a lion”.
Laggard lumper loon left fanatical murderers at our doorsteps
Encumbrances from delinquent clan divide the love for mother land
DAME
Damp squib's duchess & indecent tongue, devoid of restraint
Audacious domestic appendage ferrying funds
Merriment and intrigue feigned as obligations,
Edgy. encumbrance though ceaselessness forms their amity.
PATIENCE
Punk pretending and purloining to private vaults.
Adventurous nerve for futile globe -trot.
Twitchy at state's affairs though never elected.
Intoxicated by serendipity, shaming all with activity.
Euphemistic drama, Scrappy curiosity with comedy.
National dilemma by decorated buffoons.
Crude verbiages to amuse eggheads “my Fellow widows”
Encomium of approval turned sour “Power” the pipe for thieves.
JONATHAN
Jokers jostled in enthusiasm to rule, (politicking )
Onslaught from 'Boko-Haram' drove sleep from wearied countrymen
Numbed as "hoipolloi echoed NO to mistimed removal,
Alas, the fraud, rapscallion looting Criminals Lords over us
Tyranny cloaked garbs, creek professor without a thesis.
Higgledy-piggledy a travesty called democracy.
Amidst the rubble of a crumbling amalgam,
Nigerian Lords watched the drama secured, while we die helpless
Your eyes a dark archipelago
Mysterious then exotic drifting across
my shore;
I perceive their warmth inviting
While those lips blow a tangy flavour-
Irresistible, poised to reach for a kiss
Brewed by the kiln of summer’s
ember…
Carefully, my logic examines the
prospects
Between reason and wantonness,
As the fluid air spins amorously
And the evening grows too blind,
naked--
The waves within my navel dilate,
fluid as current's unknown motion...
I forget what happens next except, I
was
Drunk with the body- rhythm of something
untenably spontaneous;
Coasting on a body outside a bend
ebbing flowing through a belly and
tendon
Of a conniving sea.
Guilt overflows
with a spark of revilement
its decay spreads like fire,
blinding...conniving...
binding up in its sticky debris
still surviving
tangled whispers bleeding through me
reminders of a depthless past...
listen to the sobs beneath me,
the hardness of your ears meet my lips at last
deep inside a heap of lies,
refusing my cries
you can never see how binded I am...
how blinded I am.
you too cannot see...you cannot see
though your eyes meet me,
still, you cannot see.
the least you can do is listen
listen carefully,
sight is mere illusion,
follow the voice intently,
it cries softly, oh so softly...
before it dies away unnoticed
It whispers steadily,
Remember me,
Remember me...
The bright shining visage
As glowing as the glossy morning sun.
Brighter the legs,
Though not fully seen,
That pulls a thousand eye’s apples
The skirt tangles
Above the knee.
Chubby thighs and knees too.
It was a sober chilly foggier morn
And the fainting Beings.
The rest wool flocked
The socks locked ankles
That protrude the blocky shoes
And the unmindful bosoms swing.
The neatened curly locks hang on her temples
Thoughtful, mischievous timid eyes
With conniving looks –
They look and don’t look.
Cognizant of being starred at.
Look at everyone and not at anyone.
Her whitish brown angular countenance
And the big bag of assumed knowledge on her back.
She walks into the school bus GF 8,
Lost herself in thinking of thoughts -both hers and others.
Pulling down the tens of ‘manly’ sights.
And the unmindful women
Both in envy and admiration.
Goody, goody gumdrops
You're a fiddle-fart away
To becoming the same piece of s--t you were yesterday
Way to go, Basel, you're still an exquisite dog
And you'll always be a cursed creature - like an ugly frog
You'll never get a kiss & turn into a prince
You'll never be anything better - then a bum upgrading his tents
You'll never accomplish anything - with your mindframed block
'Cause you never wanna learn anything new - all you do is talk
You're a s--tty example - of what the West Coast thinks Southern boys are
You're a sorry excuse of a "cowboy" - especially if a girl wished for you on a star
You're evil, you're narcissistic, and you truly suck
'Cause all you know is crime, gangs, guns, drugs, and to f--k
I truly hope you have a lonely, impossibly hard life
And I hope you're banned and forbidden - from EVER finding a wife
I hope you experience every evil you've ever done
I hope you're banned and forbidden to EVER have children - especially a son
I hope you realize you're egotistical and so damn selfish
You're meticulous, manipulative, and conniving - like anyone who's elvish
You're crazy and oh so delusional - who'd EVER make you a God?
I wish they'd capture you and send you back to Hell in your space pod
I can't wait 'til they throw your ass back in Hell - where you claim you were King
I hope all the pain you've caused - karma 10x back she'll bring
I'm happy that you suck at placing, using, and understanding human emotions
I hope you choke & die - in every single one of the Universe's radioactive oceans