Long Shyster Poems
Long Shyster Poems. Below are the most popular long Shyster by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Shyster poems by poem length and keyword.
How could you do such a terrible thing?
You just pawned your deceased father’s ring.
Think about that ring’s sentimental value.
To get cash, could there have been other things to do?
That guy is a shyster with his business dealings and such.
I’ll bet the amount you got was not much.
I kept telling you to stay out of that casino.
However, with your money, you continued to go.
Who pays for all that ritzy ambience and décor that you see?
The casinos get it from losers like you and me.
It is only normal that gamblers should lose their money.
If there’s a big win, it’s considered an abnormality.
Whatever you get each month you don’t save.
I’ll bet your old man is turning over in his grave.
With this money, go to the pawn shop today.
I want you to get that ring back right away.
The Bad, The Ugly and The Good (aka: Bad, Badder, Baddest)
The Bad
I am the gun-toting, God-fearing Ganja Gangsta.
I’ll smoke you, pray for you, then have my daily siesta!
I answer to no one, and fear no man; No Sir!!!
I answer to only One Master. That’s Heaven’s Prime Minister.
I am the player-hating, man-baiting Sister Disaster.
I’ll woo you, thrill you, then …kill you; true that, mister!
I just swagger thru the city with my ‘Ghetto Blaster’,
I don’t mean sounds, fool!!! I mean my ‘piece’ … to blast ya!!!
I am the mean-looking, menacing Monster Mobster.
I’ll cut ya, shred ya, and have me a pasta fiesta.
I do not boil ‘em…! No sah!! I’d eat a live lobster!
I’m so mean ….Hey! ..I’ll even steamroller your hamster!!!
I am the fast-talking, Bible-bashing Pastor Imposter.
I’ll bless you, fleece you, then sex-up Sister Disaster
I’m just a shyster - but please don’t tell the Menacing Mobster!
She’s the God-fearing Gangsta’s wife - and the Mobster’s sister!
The Ugly (Badder)
I am the flesh-eating, life-sapping, Cluster-Sinister.
I am impartial; care not for class, colour, creed or gender.
I am microbe, but not a person-respecter; ask the sex inspector.
I am sorry, but for me to survive, you have to become a spectre.
I am the tear-jerking, game-changing, people-Prankster
I get called ‘*****’, ‘Sod’, …some even call me a ‘Mater-Conjugator’.
I don’t like Gangsters, Mobsters and especially that dodgy Pastor
I may get mad, or even get even; Call me ‘Life’, or call me ‘Karma’.
The Good (Baddest)
I am the Beginning, the Alpha/Omega; Heaven’s only Prime Minister
I wrote the Good Book, but look inside, I have never been a Jester!
I carry fire and brimstone to bolster my holster - you’d better helter-skelter!
I mete out justice, and vengeance administer: you'd better pray faster!!!
(Fg 81.5.8 - January 2016)
Like a scorned ex-stripper hell has no fury
but how I would love to be on that jury.
To call out the sex troll vamp
in the case of Trump v Tramp
in this the show trial of the century!
So they call the shyster ex-lawyer for hire
as their big star witness and testifier.
A perjured jailhouse trickster
who calls himself "The Fixer"
but oops, is a convicted fraudster and liar!
The busty po-rn star said “he’s guilty, yup”
of the hush money charges all trumped up.
It looks and smells like a con
and they’re out to get The Don
but it's all just a stormy in a D-Cup!
Written: May 2024
Cyber Cheater
You are my cheating heart.
Passing me by from the start.
I feel desolate and broken in two.
Scarred for life, my heart hangs askew…
What have I done for you to leave?
I thought you loved me I wanted to believe..
I drift into hopelessness, feeling empty inside.
I take on my life in a dismal stride…
Longing, seeking; where do I stand?
Wondering and walking in the mind’s wasteland.
Do you still want me or that someone other?
The one that steals love, that one the shyster?
My heart was owned once upon a history..
Completely, absolute, in sublime stupidity.
Oh, you did not know Mrs. Klondike said.
Haughty, uppity, not nice in the least.
The festival has been moved and renamed.
The Aprillstica has been re-named?
No way!
I was horrified, shocked.
As my Aunt Bee was one of the original Villageonians,
I felt she should be bothered immediately.
“I know,” she sang gaily, in an unknown way into the phone.
“It was my idea.”
Her idea!
Now I was truly confused.
Had she gotten her pills mixed up again?
My Aunt Bee has not sounded this happy since 1971
When she married the newest “love” of her life who
Was her eighth husband, and a shyster like the others.
I quickly drove to Springton Nursing Home to see what was up.
“This is Harold,” she said in a voice I barely remembered.
A sing-songy, happy, uplifting voice.
Harry had initially had the idea to change Aprillstica Festival
To Marchatillion Festival.
Well, then, okay by me.
She is ninety-six after all, and running out
of charm.
I am a wedding planner, and
frankly, although I too am a Villageonian,
business has been slow….
I see you are troubled the soothsayer said.
She could see I was disheveled and wild in the head.
Anyone with a knowledge of people could see.
So far I was not terribly impressed with Miss She.
Come closer, she said. I see trouble in paradise.
I was thinking “shyster” and “trickster” not very nice.
She took my hand and I noticed the warmth in her eyes.
She had caring emotion, this was an enormous surprise.
I ended up listening, and her words were sage and wise.
A fortune teller who cared, I told my friends over fries.
So you are going back? Some asked, surprised at me.
Yes, and I promised to bring you, we are leaving at three.