Long Swindlers Poems
Long Swindlers Poems. Below are the most popular long Swindlers by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Swindlers poems by poem length and keyword.
All The Best in 2009
Conquer this Fort
from the selfish worms
Rule this land with mercy and
shower love as rain on us
Ruin the roots of terrorism and
pave the way to happy and glee
Save our race from the cruels
Redeem their heritage from their tears
Save Her from the hands of swindlers
make Her flag to fly with pride
You can and you only can
Change this dirty trend
to a clear way of progress
My dear mother
Conquer our grieves and hunger
Spread your glory in your new rule
This poem has been dedicated to my beloved Leader
Mother Dr J.Jayalalitha
A I A D M K
Chennai Tamilnadu India
Damaging winds whip and slash, whirling wild, drenching rain,
Roads decimated come to standstill, as gushing floods reign,
Inundating swollen terrains, roiling deluge of a tenebrous day,
As trees bowing to gusting storms; erratically waltz and sway.
Houses naked with roofs blown, now ache, mangled and worn,
Where loss of life, in makeshift shelter, neighbors sadly mourn;
Sharing stories of a sudden event, rushing through the town,
Disheartened life, since torn-down, anguishing in wistful frown.
Danger lurks, where flood waters submerge fallen power lines,
As rivers and tributaries of muddy-flows, float uprooted vines,
What once was a harmonic rhythm, now perturbs pulse of life,
Dawn that rose on a lambent arc, now shudders in sullen strife.
People stranded, anxious for rescue, assess the damage done,
Cars are destroyed, fires are burning, recovery has just begun;
Sirens blaring of dire emergencies, are chasing to plug gas-leaks,
Searching for victims of drowning, scouting the rivers and creeks.
Swindlers are hovering, ripping-off elderly, exacting heavy price,
Hit by the tragedy first, then by the cruelty of defrauding vice;
Some now blame callous humanity, some name it~ an act of fate,
Mired in untold challenges, as remnants-torrent start to abate.
Or do you not know that the unrighteous will not inherit the kingdom of God?
Do not be deceived: neither the sexually immoral, nor idolaters, nor adulterers,
nor men who practice homosexuality, nor thieves, nor the greedy, nor drunkards,
nor revilers, nor swindlers will inherit the kingdom of God. Who is left?
We are all subjects of mankind—
so let’s be kind and let us be by love defined—I Am Anaya
All Around The World
So why is it they can’t just see that: Differences shouldn’t be hated
Popes change dogma continually, Leviticus Bible verse should be updated
The revelation comes too late, and yes, it is belated
Unrighteous we are, why torment gay men and women, everyone’s unclean
and so you have it, anything else is contrary to sound doctrine,
In a sense, if you look about at the lout, ordinary men are just as obscene
Heterosexuals have shown us just how perverted they too can be
Easy to be lured into a night of dishonorable passions, a themed orgy
Unashamed, receive you will a due penalty, and remember the trilogy
Too many homosexuals living all around the world today
We know the facts, it is hard to come out, and no one chooses to be gay,
Some find out at age ten, he made no choice, never has it worked that way
To have a hatred so strong isn’t natural, it seems its rather what you seek
What makes any sense at all is that being different doesn’t make you week
What labels a freak, but God made us misguided, different, and meek
A mother knows her son is gay
She watched that he had grown up in his flamboyant way
Not a random whim conjured up one day
A heterosexual’s testimony is clear:
A teacher’s council and kind patience bolstered Rob’s resolve
To overcome youthful woes and nightmarish troubles solve
His humanity may have saved Rob’s life. His memory he holds dear
But whenever the name Mister James arose
Other kids just called him q****
Whatever kind of group it is you’re in
Just because they are different from you, but both same to sin
No one here will win or lose, all will end. And if so be it, once more begin.
Gift cards, can it be stopped
How the swindlers begin a nice letter understand
The problem you have because of the pension that does not allow you to hire a person to help
Yes, they are so helpful, they can help if you send
Them gift cards instead of cash, they will help
It starts with a sum of cards at a value of 1000 euros, so you send the cards and, not wait they need more gift cards to cover the cost. Ok, so you send them the card and they promise to send you a packet with money
So you wait, but then they want more gift cards at a value of hundred euros, by now even a dick head understands he has been swindled
The next step is to alert the law, but the swindlers have flown away leaving no trace. They even enlist your own family to rob you of your savings
Money set aside to pay for doctors and home help
And so on
If we could delight in everyone with kindness
Our world will be peaceful, never alienating
The ideals and hopes of women, children,
As the freedom of life is a man’s birthright :
Yet, swindlers deceive people who seek
A better tomorrow which is fair, dignified
Respecting not their value of equal opportunity…
But greed malice leaves hopeful dreamers
Sinking in the fissure of broken nights,
Traded like cattle, reduced as slaves, lowly brides
While human trafficking lurks unresolved
A barter, a cruel deal of society’s infraction:
Though I join lobbying for deprived citizens,
Grease of billion dollars hide this ruthless transgression
Why? Why? For bribery offered is intoxicating, enticing,
At the expense of God’s daughters and captive sons.
John Hamilton’s Social Injustice Contest
Written 4/11/2018
Hark! Halloween breeds an open season of gloom,
For others, the very thought would not fill the room,
Tonight, Jack O' Lanterns give off a soft warm glow,
With the guidance of moonlight and young eyes aglow
I hear a chorus of laughter for trick or treat,
As rich buckets overflow with surplus sweetmeat,
Creepy costumed silhouettes flood through the stark night,
And if they knock, please beware and accept your plight
Full darkness is descending, I feel icy dread,
From a blood curdling scream, that could wake up the dead,
A young child weeping, whose parents cannot console,
His bounty of treasured gains, swindlers grabbed and stole
In my lost state, I can give no consolation,
For I am just a mere humble aberration,
I glide towards the tranquil place of the deceased,
Where the walking dead fables have not ceased
My former maid, a kind-hearted apparition,
Hands me my tea, smiling, to ease my affliction,
You see at Halloween, no need to fear the dead,
Be on your upmost guard for the living instead
27/11/22
Sponsor: Emile Pinet
Halloween poetry contest
howmanysyllables.com
rhymezone.com
We need new sheriffs whom will uphold law properly
taking these monkey's into account for their corrupt action
and addressing facts on these cowboy's
that are held by public opinion as gangsters in uniform
Lawbreakers bring them down a peg or two and show them inside a cell
this is how the taxpayers look at swindlers and thief's under state assets
rather than shoot them down reward incorrectly in a big pay day
with bonuses and pensions into the bargain
robbing our hard earned money blind drunken greed
Even when they are totally shamed through their disgraced deeds caught out highlighted being honest it's a cowboy outfit force
that needs to clean up it's act to gain respect
for one this shows lack of respect where justice is not upheld
in showing favour to these criminals whom there sits enough proof
to throw the book at them correctly it should be dealt with
pride is a wicked place to hide when secrets are out
Liturgy of the Pawns from Ashes
Shadows dance on the walls of memory and lights weep in mirrors broken by silence,
grief and wailing emerge from mute depths, echoes that birth lights in darkness.
Romania sleeps with open eyes, dream your forgetting with hopes hidden in icons,
a wave come from afar wanders lost, the bag full of clothes carries broken wings.
The system of systems dies while living, drinks its poisons with mouth dried by thirst,
the red pill burns in throats, and the blue turns to ash beneath your eyelids.
The swindlers count the dead stars, their future falls upward like reversed rain,
and the pit of history climbs toward heaven, the raftsman sleeps keeping endless watch under the earth.
Televisions whisper in the latrine, and truth smells of rotted roses,
the red files write themselves, with white ink on papers unseen by anyone.
The Romanian makes popcorn from tears, watches how wolves are defeated by united sheep,
and the rabble crowds into its own grave, biting the hands that fed them for centuries.
The pawns fly diagonally through fog, and the king trembles on his empty and desolate throne,
a chess game played with pieces of smoke, decapitation is done with hands of red silk.
East and West meet in the mirror, tyrants and the free are the same dream written in reverse,
and Romania floats between heavens, anchored by chains that break their own knots.
The music of tone writes the choreography, politics dances on wires of dried tears,
the thickets speak the language of fire, and the player knows silence better than the word.
The wave is too large to be stopped, and yet it stands motionless in the storm that births it,
mountains are moved by unseen hands, and the silent vote screams louder than thunder.
We will write the future with dead ink, on pages that burn before being read,
united hearts break together, and iron will melts into stronger steel.
Romania counts its shadow ten times over, each hour passed gathers unborn moments,
and hands are yesterday overturned, a black sun that illuminates clearer than light.
QUESTIONS OF BALANCE: A JEREMIAD
Why is it at 70 politicians are still underage
To assume political offices
And at 30 youths are overage to begin a professional career?
What divine strength hath a leader at 75
When a mandatory retirement awaits civil servants at 65?
Why should the government empowers the youths with $75 in 2 years
And expects them all to have own businesses
But civil servants who earn over $300 per month in 30 years
Are finding it difficult to own a garden or a store?
How is it our politicians could expend billions
To defect, campaign and give kickbacks
But would wait until the World Bank borrows them some millions
To provide a borewell drinking water?
How can they say the national treasury has collapsed to employment
Yet billions are looted and millions wasted on foreign fantasies?
Why should the achievement of our political endorsement
Be signed to MOUs as though we lack understanding?
Why should our lawmakers make laws that hound the masses
And not against their own chronic excesses and excuses?
Why should the wealthy politician vote a project for the poor
Assigned the execution of the project to himself and loot the funds?
Why do our lawmakers never make laws to free the masses
From poverty and political swindlers?
Why should the agency that fights corruption be corrupt?
Why should gluttons preside over the meager meals of the masses?
Why should the leader not serve today and the servant lead tomorrow?
Why should professional bandits be our bankers?
Why should 5% of public servants consume 60% of the nation’s wealth?
Why should a politician be a party leader, counsellor, chairman, governor, senator… still desperate to lead
And all behind his trails are poverty and anguish?
Why should a politician with obscene wealth hidden somewhere
Tell his people that their poverty and problem is Hausa, Igbo, Christian, Muslim, APC, PDP…?
And why is our nation over-laboured by multiplets of cultural, social
Political, religious questions awaiting caesarean responses?
The answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind
The answer is blowing in the wind!
I just write. Sure, I have pieces in several books just scattered all around. Probably have written over 999 Poems by now. Still, My accolades are hard for me to gather and jot down. Let alone celebrate any milestone of accomplishment that I won’t remember when you ask what I have been up to anyhow. Imposter syndrome is the persistent inability to believe that one's success is deserved or has been legitimately achieved… I almost thought they were defining me when I came across that word on Webster MD. I’ve never felt worthy of anything, not even things I worked at relentlessly, exhaustedly, tirelessly with every piece of me out of breath until the end result was perfection nothing less than, and still, I couldn’t see why anyone would want to fall in love with me. I wished and prayed but that imposter pushed any hope for love away, reiterating the false dialogue I kept on repeat day to day. It’s strange because I believe it's only when my spirit is in a weakened state. Even so, this cloud of doubt will dissipate the more I follow and he leads the way. Clearing my vision and the swindlers at play, who are working hard to keep me alone and afraid. I don’t claim that phenomenon and this inability to see what I have achieved, these ungodly feelings are something I now recognize as old patterned thinking. I was supposed to be this statistic, a druggie, crazy, out of my mind; ballistic. Someone kept me cloaked. Someone helped me miss it, the bomb society unintentionally attached to me because of the producers of my Limbic system. Reminded I’m not a stranger in my skin, I am just now learning how to settle in. Sometimes fraudsters sneak false thoughts but I don’t ride their beliefs as my own because today, they are not me. Now, I rely on the outcome of my actions as my “ imposter me not”, insurance policy.