Long Scheming Poems
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If Youse Guys
If youse guys knock on my door,
I ain’t gonna answer it, no freaking way, man!
Youse could be Perry Smith and Dick Hickock standing there,
Holding a flashlight, a fishing knife, and a shotgun,
Thinking there’s a safe in the house somewheres.
I know youse guys think I’m loaded,
And that youse would kill me for ma’ money.
Not tonight Misters Perry and Dick!
I got two bus tickets to Barstow, and then
Into the American desert youse will walk,
with hitching, trembling thumbs stuck way out!
And if youse guys come driving up and offer me a ride,
I ain’t gonna get in, no freaking way, man!
Youse could be Ted Bundy and John Wayne Gacy in there,
Gripping a lug wrench and a rubber tourniquet,
Thinking I’m jus’ a soft target for your Polaroid camera.
Not today Misters Bundy and Gacy!
I gotta a tan V Dub, all gassed up for the long haul to Tacoma,
And then, into the American nightmare we will all go.
But if youse guys try to sell me a bill of goods,
I ain’t gonna buy it, no freaking way, man!
Youse could be Vincenzo Peruggia, and Doris Payne sitting there,
Holding a bag made of sackcloth, and a hoodie,
Scheming to rid my bank account with a smile and a lie.
Not today Messers Vincenzo and Payne!
I gotta fast plane to catch to Monte Carlo and Paris,
And I ain’t taking my diamonds or my Mona Lisa!
Sleep easy youse guys.
I ain’t gonna say nothing nice ‘bout any of youse.
All youse were just bad folk.
Glad youse is gone.
.
I was born to be manipulated
Alone and unstimulated
Dragged through the early years kicking and screaming
Always knowing someone was scheming
Leading to a point where i got abused or abandoned
Never being quite able to understand
Play a mental game and I don’t know how to play
Can’t ever make a mistake or disobey
Life now it’s easy to fool me
Easier just to agree
Easy to blame for your mistake
A reaction easy to fake
Easy to convince and coerce
As I am nothing in the universe
I’m always looking for hidden meanings
Not trusting people on first meetings
Testing people’s true intentions
Searching for all dimensions
Looking for the truth on what you say
Being prepared to walk away
Not trusting people’s words
I’m the one that observes
Words are cheap
Could come across as the creep
Fifteen years no one to trust
Makes me think your sus
Always suspicious, Always paranoid
Cold and annoyed
I flinch at the thought of aggression
Still feeling the same oppression
Childhood still damages everyday
I fight my mind just to stay
Still hide from people of authority
Judged by their seniority
Still get nervous around other people
The small boy inside causing such upheaval
Always wanting to please instead of always being truthful
One day soon I maybe useful
Has life ever been cheaper,
When doubting God grows steeper?
Love without justice perverts.
Justice sans morals subverts.
Despite the evil scheming,
God's spiritual streaming.
Doubt your doubts about the Lord.
Confessing them brings reward.
His past acts need reflection.
Remembrance foils defection.
His Providence revealing,
God's spiritual streaming.
So, wait for the end of it-
His faithfulness will acquit.
Remember, He's powerful,
Gathering up baskets full,
After thousands done feeding,
God's spiritual streaming.
Let the fools think they have won,
When God has only begun.
The wicked need to think twice,
Boasting about our demise.
Trusting Him is redeeming,
God's spiritual streaming.
When all has been said and done,
The Warrior-God, His Son,
Fulfills the Davidic reign,
And godliness is great gain.
All bow the knee esteeming,
God's spiritual streaming.
STEPS ASIDE
They’ve banned the “step counters”
Outlawed the treadmill and stationary bike
Banned jogging (aka fast walking for the elderly)
Sports will be limited to “non-aerobic” activities
Tiddlywinks tournaments will be Government funded.
Scientific research and investigation
Funded by the “stay inside and die sooner” chapter
Of the “Governmental Gottcha Groups”
Has conjectural and anecdotal evidence
That the heavy breathing induced by exercise
Increases the carbon dioxide emissions
Of those engaged in anaerobic exercise.
Suggested alternate activities are:
-Daydreaming,
-Scheming (aka conspiring with imaginary friends)
-Meditation…without chanting
-Astral Traveling (with or without passport)
-Thinking, but only about the things presented in our booklet
-(also known as “Talking Points)
Or the “Rip Van Winkle” solution…
Go to sleep for twenty years
and hope it’s all over when you wake up.
John G. Lawless
©2/24/2023
People here and after rushing though the rainbow beams
All with a pursuit to reach green.
One with Starbucks in hand worried
about the Boss’s stern mouth
In the other lane,
the arrogant one with Blackberry in her hand
planning 7 o’clock happy hour with the girls..
Another, the scornful with mood swings
blowing temper creating mist of anger forming
Nothing but a halo of rage.
Probably cursing the driver ahead for driving on 60!
Another urging her toddlers to rest,
“Sit Sit “, she commands
Receiving nothing but mere nods and scheming smiles.
Then realizing the blessing and following it
with a pause of tolerating acceptance.
Pondering,
” After all they still remain children, they’ll grow soon” and
then following it with an obvious shift of expression”
If only HE would get up his lazy bottom in the morning!”
Many scenes of different genres, fascinating and many times entertaining. With
curtains rolling at Red stops….
Form:
Why would I do this
What was in my head
My charmed life of bliss
Perhaps irreparably dead?
Yes I'm a fighter
A grifter of old,
I deserve a fate brighter
But on this I've been rolled.
Politics such a foul game
They claim I'm the one crooked,
But these hacks put me to shame
With actions deceitful and wicked.
Still you know what they say
When you're in the arena riding that bull,
Hold on tight and don't sway
The harder it bucks the stronger you pull.
Melania's not happy,
The kids out of sight,
While I may sometimes get snappy
It’s when I’m alone in the dead of the night.
Truth socials' my outlet
Where I vent and I rage
An invaluable asset
With my fans to engage.
For despite all my troubles
I'm still leading the pack
Supporting my struggles
They all have my back.
Biden is scheming
When the guy remembers at all,
In most polls I am far leading
Now he's praying I'll fall.
The media is gloating
With me as their lead,
In money they're floating
When Trump is their creed.
So maybe it's worth it
This journey of pain,
The path to outwit
And put these connivers to shame.
With me as your President
The US will be great
My abilities so undeniably evident
I’m clearly your best Head of State.
I feel like my brain is always plotting in secret
As though I don't know
Like, it has a whiteboard up somewhere
in a vortex like corner, where it knows I can't go. Scheduling meetings without sending me an invitation to respond yes or no
They take place when my brain thinks I'm not paying attention, but I know.
It's planning my demise, solo. It's been doing so, For quite a bit of time.
I recognize this,
as I map out the blueprints it has created with my mind
It's diabolical the lengths in which I am willing to go
to help myself find
more reasons to put myself down
Time after time
To reassure my mind that
I'm going to fail because I do all the time
At least to me in my mind
It's crazy
How this brain sometimes does not feel like mine
I try and control it
But it goes into auto pilot and
I am no longer the pilot flying,
80-90% of the time
we are falling
Don't worry, I'm always fine
Catch myself playing a role
That was designed by me but isn't mine
It's a past character I have no use for
It was useful during a certain time
But these positions my brain continues to assign are no longer roles that suit me in this state of mind
These brains we have
Are weapons
forged over time
We were not born defenseless
We have been scheming and plotting since we left the womb and assumed life outside
Our brains have the power to override information that has no space in this current time
But we have to be aware in the moment it is happening in that very time.
How the heck can I catch my brain slip
When I am constantly 5 steps behind
You can't, and that's what I learned
You literally have to drop in on meetings and share new words
Stop raising your hand,
it's time to take your damn turn
Send a memo out to the crew
We have
Extended the renovation time
An internal renovation,
For you.
Hands tick in motion but I hear naught
of the onslaught of killing time depicted.
Minutes run past me in tarred darkness
as the visions in my brain are obscured.
Clocks eat away moments of my life.
I admit I'm nearly frightened to death
of those mimed hands whose strokes
stab me with each gasp of breath I take.
Round and around, silent warning given
in gross opposition to the beastly roar,
aped by masses of such foolish people,
oblivious that my plight is also their own.
Reticence gives no relief to assault. I see
my fate's demise, and frightened I shall be
until death's full tariff has set my soul free.
Rhythmic tickings makes no difference to me.
Silence staggers my soul to substantiality.
Blinded by fear of my imminent necrosis,
I cannot traverse those two roving needles,
hellbent on stinging me to my neon grave!
Passage of time is but a travesty of life
in which man has no occasion to amend.
In the end, death haunts us all in silent
whispers; echoes of cruel scheming hands.
==========================
17th of April, 2016
I’ve often heard you say these days
that your skin is keeping you down,
that others look at it and try
to drive your dreams deep in the ground.
As if ‘The Man’ was right out there,
scheming against skin-tones abhorred,
even though ‘The Man’ was last seen
way back in nineteen sixty-four.
You think this shouting and whingeing
will somehow make a difference,
then you ascribe to racism
what’s explained by pure indifference.
Nobody’s out to keep you down,
and I think it’s time we be fair,
they don’t want to help or hurt you,
the truth is they just don’t care.
They have no time to plan or scheme
when everything is said and told,
they’re busy trying to survive
in a world frightful and cold.
Ninety percent of their own thoughts
are ever-focused on themselves,
it’s the same for every human,
it’s the story that we all tell.
We honestly don’t have the time
to think much on other's lives,
this self-interest is a good thing,
otherwise we’d not survive.
They don’t scheme to oppress you,
their minds don’t even go there,
it’s too much struggle to go plot,
the truth is they just don’t care.
Perhaps you should stop and look at
the content of their own thoughts,
I bet most of it is about yourself,
that is just humanity’s lot.
Does that mean you despise all those
that you happen to pass on the street?
Of course not, it just means that they
play no part in your daily beat.
Do you waste time thinking of how
you can hurt them for their skin?
Or do you just ignore them all
to focus on you and your kin?
If you’re not taking lots of time
to plot how to bring them despair,
then what makes you think that they will?
Like you, they do not really care.
If your mind's craving excuses
for a potential yet unmet,
then trying to blame another,
is an old, time-tested bet.
But smearing people in that way
will just retard your own mind’s growth,
the true problems lay deep within,
that is what the wisest know.
But shouting names is so easy,
and gives a person false-esteem,
you believe you look heroic,
but we see hateful and mean.
Blame lighter folks, or darker ones,
but it won’t get you anywhere,
you’ll only be hurting yourself…
but luckily, we won’t care.
There was such an enchanting glow
with everything I didn’t know
sat at a desk, I’d sit there dreaming
couldn’t wait to taste the fruits of my perfected scheming.
I’d gone through the worst, with the best yet to come so much to be seen, so much to be done.
I’d planned every detail, eighteen to twenty four
but nowadays I don’t like to plan anything, anymore.
How free I would be, chains no longer on me as I’d indulge in youth’s early days.
All the places I’d go, and the people I’d get to know, finally I’d be the writer of a promising show.
But there is just so much you are never told, within two years, your soul feels old.
Every day follows a monotonous pattern, every day you feel the distance and connections that flatten.
You had thought that there was promise in the road ahead yet most of the time, you live in your head. Stuck with so many questions, like where did you misplace your feet? You had envisioned cities, you live in the same street.
With all I now know, with all these feelings in my chest, I dream of going back to the desk.
Realising how bright life was then, I’d be quick to drop my pen. I’d go outside and look around, what I’ve lost now, I could’ve found.