Long Scammed Poems

Long Scammed Poems. Below are the most popular long Scammed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Scammed poems by poem length and keyword.


My Past Or Present

Mistakes I have made
Errors I have committed 
Hearts I have broken
People I have legitimately and illegitimately insulted 
I have scammed 
I have jilted 
I have used and dumped 
What else were you told?
For being so cold
Yes I have done thoroughly all of them
But what do they matter?
Because that was my past
My past my past my past

But you are my present 
The lady I want to give my heart to as present 
The lady I want to love with the whole of my strength 
The lady I want to because of, go to any length
The lady I want to forever keep in my emotional tent 
You are that precious jewel I want to spend my life with
The Queen I want to prepare breakfast for
The woman I want as the mother of my children
But you have choices
It is a world of multiple choices
Hold on to my past and let go of me
Or believe in my present and let write the new story together
But either ways, I will always love you

 ABSOL - 07032277508
Form:


Premium Member Vendetta Machine

Vendetta machine scammed me again.
I put in a buck fifty for a dime's worth of chocolate.
It responded with nothing but disgust.
The metal hook just wouldn't let the package go. 
Wiggling it in front of my greasy nose

Like a pugilist in his muscled prime.
I quickly struck the metal man from both sides.
left right-left right...
Then a quick jab 
to its laughing glass eye.

I tried rocking it 
front to back, front to back.
It looked like a drunkard
wobbling along a broken railroad track.
But the metal hook still held fast.
         
At my mental end and out of breath.
I stuffed a wad of toilet paper in its metal grin.
To warn others of the sugar scam within.

A co-worker rounded the corner and bubbled "happy Monday".
Ditto, I grumbled...walking quickly away. 
Without the blessing of a chocolate bar.

Premium Member Forgiveness Divine

Midst covenant sealed by fidelity
assured along HIS immutable Word,
I, being carnal, succumbed to luring temptation
as a faith-traitor, flirting with the world
oblivious of my vow to love GOD with all of my heart... 

...Guilty was I of betraying my Saviour 
grieving Him and reproaching His name---
then when I confessed* my sins and errors
He, verily faithful, pardoned me completely
along His compassion that drew me more intimately to Him.
      
Meanwhile, my soul languished, victimized in a scammed venture
cognizant that the culprits were whom
I considered my trusted friends, serving as vessels of blessings--- 
they fooled me, rendering my contract with them as futile
hence, nullifying my investments --- all by their deceit…

...Struggling hard to accept their “sorry” 
I agonized bearing the load of my justice-plight 
Thus, I prayed to be a true “forgiveness-giver”
Grateful to God that I received His wondrous grace...
Indeed, “To err is human; to forgive, divine.”**

*1John 1:9 If we confess our sins, he (God) is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.

**Alexander Pope, in the poem "An Essay on Criticism", Part II, 1711.

February 7, 2020
2nd place, "Famous poetic lines 2" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Silent One; judged on 2/9/2020.

Donald J Trump

Please Donald if you'd disregard ,
my antics for a bit ;
I will tell you how I'm feeling,
and share of it a bit ...

I would never wish ill will on a man;
or  with his employ,
somethings my Dad instiolled in me ;
since I was a boy....

My Dad was a hard working man,
took care of his family ;
And as I grew into a man,
that was the plan for me ...

In my family we spent time each night,
to eat a meal and watch TV,
we even gathered for the News ,
where of you I got my first views ...

I remember hearing that ,
 you helped some families ;
 acts of kindness I suppose ,
or payment for assistance ,
not sure just how that goes .... 

Anyway it went along ,
the Towers and much more ;
even WWe wrestlin,
with McMahon;
the ing whore .....

As a son though to a billionaire;
always in the limelight of the city,
why didnt you find some older girls ,
or for age doo you not care ???

It could be alot of scammed delight ;
though tell me did you pen ;
Ghislaines admission from her prison cell,
Cause that  dont seem right....

And why was Bill even mentioned ;
it puzzles me much more ,
like we all know about Monica,
and no she was no whore....

so tell me please and do not distract,
or the topics not to change,
will you go on Steve Wilkos ;
so your admissions do not change ......
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Distant Shores - the Final Chapter

We drove in two separate cars a few miles along the ocean shore
I am not afraid, life has been depressing, I just don’t care anymore
We turn down a pebbled driveway, with lion statues guarding the gate
I am shocked when I see us approaching an old Victorian mansion estate

Frank gets out of his car, his blue eyes bright and with a smile on his face
He tells me he just inherited this mansion and is busy renovating the place
He takes my hand as he leads me up the granite steps and into the foyer
He tells me he has a case in town, and has also been working as a lawyer

We walk through a marbled living room and into a nautical themed den
He tells me he has lived here since May as he inherited the mansion then
He then tells me that he has known about me and is distant cousin of my ex
I start to let my guard down, even though I am not sure what will happen next

He looks into my eyes and smiles, takes my hands and gently kisses me
I enjoy his kisses and let him embrace me closer, not feeling afraid only free
He leads me upstairs to his master bedroom with a view of crashing waves
I am so amazed and elated, but I need to slow down and not give in and cave

He takes my hand and leads me out through the French doors to the balcony
We sit in antique wrought iron chairs while sipping wine, just like a fantasy
I suddenly start to feel very sleepy, woozy and faint, not sure what is going on
He then carries me to his large bed, lays me down and the curtains are drawn

I wake up the next morning, realizing I am naked under the covers in his bed
Trying to remember last night, as I start to worry with some feelings of dread 
Relieved, I hear Frank coming up the stairs as I start to relax and calm down 
But instead an older woman walks in and stops and stares at me with a frown

I am shocked, I ask her who she is and if Frank is here somewhere downstairs?
She tells me she’s the owner, Frank was a contractor hired to do some repairs
She’s been scammed, the job’s not done and Frank's gone with all his tools
I feel a tear run down my face, as I realize I was played and now a gullible fool

11/2/19 The last and 4th part of The Distant Shores Series

Anything You Want Contest
Judged and NA'd on 11/2/19 

Writing Challenge - December - Any poem NA'd in November 2019
Sponsor, Dear Heart- Wiishkobi Ode
Form: Rhyme


In My Eyes

You are my everything
My every hope 
My every dream
I adore the way you sing
The way you sound
The way you speak 

I love you… 
And I don’t mean that metaphorically
Or rhetorically or any of that.
 I mean plethorically
I love you more than plenty
Or adoringly 
I mean this, my words aren’t empty

Can’t you see? My love could fill the seven seas
It’s like it was meant to be, or is it just me? 
Please don’t say it’s just me…
That’d be the end of me 
This I can guarantee
There is no future I foresee where there is no “we”
So I’m on my knees begging,
Please… please hear my plea.

I’m sorry if I seem desperate
But that’s because I am…
My life without you has no meaning
It’s like I’ve been scammed
It makes my mood go up and down 
Like I’m on a tram-poline…
But I keep it to myself and write these poems 
Because I don’t want to cause a scene,
Make myself seen
At this point, it’s just routine
To hide my feelings for you…
I wish I could make it known 
Whenever you cry, my heart of stone 
Cracks just a little bit more
I wish I could tell you…
You say you want a man
I would say “here I stand” 
But I don’t think I can
I wish I could make you happy…
I’d never make you cry
I’d never leave your side
I’d give you all you wanted plus more

If I could, I’d give you my sight
Maybe then you’d see what I do
For I see a girl
 who fights for what’s right
Who shines with such light
Who’s smile is so bright
I see a woman
 who is so strong
Maybe not all brawn
But it’s to that mind which I’m drawn
I see you
Not just for who you seem
You’re sweet like ice cream
You’re just like a dream 

In my eyes You’re the perfect person
Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise
I might not be very wise, 
But this I can’t compromise on
keep being who you are
Keep shining like a star

And don’t you ever forget
In my eyes, you’re perfect

Going over the details

From: Now That She's Alone
Story of a Man's Wanting
( the mention to play glissando
and to sing aria)

Do you know what to say
does it make you
wanna just  walk away
seems it's clear to me
something more
obviously
maybe it's all in the song
those glaring melodies
something for ee
I swear it alluded me

Villainized by it's potential
scammed to be exploited
all in the attempt of bragging
such is easy for some
to ignore and
I sort feel
they wrote it like a song
maybe it's in the song
It's gotta be in the song

Stand dominates
it's all so complicated
sit down to see
the bright blue sky
the puffy pretty clouds
watch as they go by
when I stop my ponder
get my mind right
and understand
looking to my woman
reaching out to hold her hand
Keeping my lady Happy
Ya'll know I don't wanna be wrong
stop to read the lyric
Maybe it's in the song
Maybe it's in the song

Originally written in Italian
interputed into English)
He ate a Yankee Pastromi sandwich with
Russain dressing running down his cheeks.
Form: Bio

Premium Member On the Good Ship Censorship



It's an all expense paid  trip, you know?
Until you decide, you won't bow to the 
government freak show.

Facebook, Twitter, and other associated 
BIG tech sisters and brothers...
Ban some for life, and block comments 
especially from Conservative others.

On sites, yes,  you will be punished brutally,
as well.
Yes, you able-poet, banished, like a creepy 
leper from hell.

How dare you not want the vaccination?
It's free, you fool, in this censorship nation!

Just make believe free speech is now gone?
Only sing of flowers and humor, anything else 
is wrong?

Poetry, the last chance to tell any truth.
Must be in-line with rotting governments, 
or, in a pile of old phone booths.

Covid has made minds fearful of any free thinking.
You'd better write only humor, or you are thrown 
overboard and are sinking!

Poets who know we are all being scammed?
I have seen them brutally treated or their poetry 
avioded or unread, as if it were useless spam!


                  5/6/2021
                   ~4~
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Conspiracy and Evil Surmising

I am a Victim, 
Lured by mascara, and by a pretext piety 
Induced through lust by immoral vermin 

I am a Victim 
Blindfold through cunnings to fest on a plowed field, 
“Whore scammed”, trapped in a net by the conspiracy of a blemished womanhood 

I am a Victim, 
Decoyed through the bait of an illusion to nurse the wound of another. 
Oh! The Desdemona from whose path I avoided avowal 

I am a victim, 
Of marriage in Freetown, the offer of credit in dowry.
And the sharer chokes hastily by licentious and libidinous overwhelm. 

I am a Victim,
Of a venomous revenge of a late marriage,
The brunt, the consequence of many abandoned lovers lurking still to watch my shame.  

I am a victim,
Hauled from far off climes to be used, dumped after use 
Suspended in the gale to fulfil an ambition. 

I am a victim, 
Of a clandestine unanimity of an unbroken vow,
Lust feigned for friendship dictates and plotted through covert text, my fall their aim 

I am a victim 
Of the conspiracy of “Exes” plotted by the bed lure,
Of hasty overturn to conceal the fraud by a blinded jury  

I am a victim, 
Defrauded, demonized, humiliated and ridiculed. 
A bespectacled gargoyle masked the visages in the loss 

I am a victim 
They couldn't  find in this clime, but must take a trip to seek, 
and by secret oath through the court, concealed from affinity save one

I am a victim, 
Semen sapped by a desperation to escape a stigma of nature,
And a sorrowing reflection of an impostor on my innocent seed 

I am a victim 
By revenges of many woes, still waited to plow on a stranger’s lap
Whose seed was taken through anger for mere gain, 

I am a victim, 
Bore the spatter of grim loss to a burying place and have since never ceased 

I am a victim
Of this highest ambition in the vanity fair, 
Ousted when a sincere investment was well worn by trickery 

I am a victim 
of their jeer, of a collective calumny of their bed tattling 
of the usurping of fatherhood, of their banter and this grim gaunt wearied   

I am a victim, 
A reflective victim of conscience. 
Of a story not fully told
Form: Burlesque

Premium Member A Dedication To Myself

There is a poetry contest on a web site to write your own dedication
A difficult task for a humble man; good thing I am not him.
They will line up by the door, I am sure, thousands by the score,
And I realize it will be televised for a million viewers more.

"We've come today", the president will say, "To honor Joseph Flach
Who has accomplished so many things, but none I can think of as a matter of fact.
But he must be loved by all of you and be someone that you revere,
Otherwise I must ask why else have we all gathered here?

"My notes are thin, and I never knew him, so someone please help me out,
Any of you amongst this slew, if you know something just give a shout.
Surely there's a reason for this dedication, he must have done some kind of thing."
They all look around, not making a sound, the silence is deafening.

"I once saw him juggle, at least three balls for about 10 or 15 tosses."
"He once played in a tennis tournament and he had the most losses."
"I read a poem that he once wrote and a few of the words made sense."
"He once spoke up at a town hall with a rip in the back of his pants."

Not a pretty sight and quite a fright to see them all get up and go,
Wondering why they were scammed to come to a dedication for some average Joe.
I heard them mumbling and on my last name stumbling, "Just who is this guy named Flach?"
Lucky for me, in reality, I've got years to try to win them back.
© Joe Flach  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

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