Long Trickster Poems
Long Trickster Poems. Below are the most popular long Trickster by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Trickster poems by poem length and keyword.
Roman à clef tragicomedy...
overlaid with façade of fiction = Mein Kampf
No need for yours truly to dig deep,
(albeit bonafide figuratively)
by Dickens thru mine Uriah Heep,
a gnarled mass creep
ping, comprising, encompassing, glomming
abysmal existence strewn with hard times,
such that I wanna leap
out this metaphorical bleak house,
a black hole in the wall swallowing
i.e. disallowing any peep
ordinarily yawping, proliferating, flirting...
now fumfering lamely issued by keep
ping low profile super tramping cheap
trickster, our mutual
friend Matthew Scott Harris,
where lack of functioning heating unit
(think male organ if ye will)
upended, rendered, discombobulated...
scrappy body electric hominid
to experience quality sleep.
Principal reason I write
to balance and aright
unexpected largesse
(thank you dad), where
eyes suddenly got bright
and bushy tail incessantly
wagged day and night,
a sensible palliative temporarily
eased penury plight,
which cash equivalent,
viz four Benjamins alleviated quite
helpful thwarting necessity to fight
off bill collectors brandishing
armstrong lance's compelling me
to summon black knight
in shining armor lodged within white
castle amidst prickly bishop
obviously one prone easily to excite
amusing little lord Fauntleroy
groomed as heir to throne,
enthusiasm since his birth did ignite
(Aesop pose) storybook life,
where fanciful elation did take flight
buzzfeeding, droning, feasting
on par with Mister
Bumble bee in flight
sweet nectar amidst lilies of the field
analogous to stripling Adam - fine lad
eve vent chilly seeking delight.
Ah to gather rose while ye may
tis futile wishful thinking,
now at mine three
score orbitz round sun,
which libido far out at bay
prurient predilections once
spawn time wracked to lay
waste vestal virgin such as... Little Dorrit,
now... raging hormones stagnant clay
hardened, atrophied, eutrophied,
jackknifed limp bizkit
long bereft testy tickle
yar seaman quizzical,
slack jawed, and sullen at
deserted abandoned cobwebbed quay
ignored do not enter, keep out,
private property signals desiccated,
no place for Peter to take holiday
barring ingress to ply skin flute
amidst hollerin hootenanny,
perhaps convincingly explaining
welcoming Voldemort without delay.
Inspired by the song, The Book of Souls
by Iron Maiden
Below is my version.
__________________
Instrumental Intro
On a journey to find the book of souls
the way is very long and quite dangerous
in a meditation ... I am falling into the darkness
down, down, down ... oh where will it end
Finally, I stop falling and I am in a strange place
where fires are burning and winds are howling
alert and aware of a man rising from the ashes
I will be your guide he whispers
Distracted by his beauty for a moment
I failed to see the monsters in this hellish place
as imagined in Dante's Inferno ... horrible creatures
and I cringe as a huge two-headed snake slithers by
I swallow my fear and speak to my guide
telling him that I am seeking the Book of Souls
why he whispers ... and I tell him that I would like
to see if my name is in it or not
For in a fortelling
in a dream vision
in a revelation, was told
seek the Book of Souls
Seek the truth
beyond the sun and moon
and in the depths of hell
seek the book of souls
I tell him that I have been taught on earth
the importance of the cycles and phases
of planets and and stars swirling above us
of the fear of hell that beckons below
of a list that Satan keeps in a book
Satan watches the cities growing on earth
the high rise buildings reaching heavenward
and the weakness of humans and the strength of some
he whispers, you are strong to journey here my dear
perhaps the book you seek is a book of lies
I ask my guide, why are your here
you seem like you do not belong in hell
he laughs and the sound gives me shivers
as his beauty fades away to reveal Satan
For in a fortelling
in a dream vision
in a revelation, I was told
seek the Book of Souls
Seek the truth
beyond the sun and moon
and in the depths of hell
seek the book of souls
Instrumental Break
And I realize that he is Satan, the invader of earth
the trickster who can take any image to lure
he is the destroyer of humans, the collector of souls
and he is holding the book of souls
Death is a journey we all must take
will we fall into the darkness, down and down
or will we fly heavenward above the clouds
but still I wonder is my name in the book of souls
The book of souls ...
then, I am back
I’m out to reel in the limelight
as I rhyme tight with sublime might,
filling each line each time without decline
as I climb to a blinding height,
a magical skill of a mastermind shining bright
with dynamite scaling up til miniscule and out of sight,
this is a mystical tale of frightless fight to feisty flight.
Before this I lived in the shadows,
born to be worn hopeless like a saddo,
wearing a beard in bed buried in a burrow,
each today, each yesterday and each tomorrow.
I was stuck in a bubble
contaminated by sorrow,
self destructive in trouble
encapsulated and narrow,
under impact I stumbled
collapsed and fell low,
fractured and crumbled
to be an isolated fellow.
I was falling at speeds that feed friction,
ingredients fire needs in ignition,
sparked into a fireball in free fall,
and out darted a need for survival,
these incidents the mind's designed for,
in a spiral my instincts went primal.
I went from deprived of a drive that life should provide,
to the arrival of survive with no thought to thrive.
Admittedly a little bit of me
could see I had an ability
that was missing ambition to mission
so it lived submissively
in submission.
I started to mine my mind and be mindful,
dug up strength deemed unfindable.
As I exposed my core a force sped forth,
a desire to war poured forward to dwarf
what rivals and install a sure feel of reward,
after I stop this soaring fall to the floor.
Apply my whole mind to try
and stop this nose dive
of a fireball in the sky,
if I couldn’t fly I’d glide
until control was verified
and my wings opened wide.
Dashing out the ashes the Phoenix Rise,
detached from what crashes into land from the skies,
I’m out of this world, The Phoenix Lights,
a marvellous presence with presents for eyes.
I’m Nick Trim they called me a thicky,
I seemed dim they took the mickey,
they made me look silly, it wasn’t tricky,
but I learnt tricks at risk conflict me.
Now I’m the trickster that’s off the Rictar,
flicking the switch to be the victor.
I'm Nicholas Trim and I'm stupendous,
the way I rhyme is just Trimendous.
What a fabulous way to end this,
read my poems and recommend us.
(1.)
A Poet's Heart Speaking On One Current Politician's Game
From the abyss wearing robes of silver and white
shots fired hit and miss underneath sly pale moonlight
shadow-man, dancer in his own one man parade
illustrious actor of scenes very well played
self-appointed guard of illusory born flames
Jekyll and Hyde, ghost of dark veiled games.
Offering panacea, hope some may believe
master of the Three Card Monty, born to deceive
orator salivating charm and lying praise
devious trickster, painter of sordid malaise
words from a jackal mouthing malicious deceit
remorseless scammer, setting innocence's defeat!
Demonic liar, politician through and through
that boisterous showman, scamming both me and you!
Robert J. Lindley, 2-28-2020
Sonnet, ( When Truth And Candor Are Called For )
Modern politics reveal the blackest of deceptions
and arrogant deceit... a critical assessment...
~~ ~~ ~~
(2.)
From Wind In The Willows, To Shine From Stars Above
For all we are, and all we strive to be
tho' we in haste cross the bar, do we see
serenity, that which our hearts yet yearns
infinity- Time's eternal wheel turns
paradox, we see, we touch, and we feel
slaves in a box, each haggard breath we steal!
Hold dear life and this truth truly believe.
World wields devil's knife, as its dark deceives!
For all we are, does not Life its flow set
tho' we in haste cross the bar, yet we bet
more than we now hold, such a crying shame
soul man's, too oft sold, as if sordid game
a stumble, a path blinding one and all
accursed mumbles, groans down empty halls!
Hold dear life and this truth truly believe.
World wields devil's knife, as its dark deceives!
For all we are, can we ever this know
tho' we in haste cross the bar, ill wind blows
as our journeys wind through treacherous paths
we face evil and darkness's many wraths
calamities, daggers cutting in deep
realities, we are but lambs that sleep!
Hold dear life and this truth truly believe.
World wields devil's knife, as its dark deceives!
Robert J. Lindley, 2-28-2020
Rhyme, ( Plundering Depths That Life Too Oft Denies )
Where is the anger! The rage! And the courage, I expected to see?
Why is everyone so complacent?
Evangelical Christians have endorsed a cheat, a liar, a bigot, and a misogynist
because he's pro-life, God will forgive the rest; hallelujah!
Democracy used to cannibalize democracy; please pass the head of state!
A cult has formed, like the Nazi Youth, who ogled Hitler with worshiping eyes.
Those in charge have stooped so low; that they bow down to this wannabee Fuhrer
with their brown noses prominently showing above their pasted-on smiles!
If you're part of this cult, reason can't save you! You'll die for this trickster!
Chanting NO COLLUSION, NO COLLUSION! Though you know, it isn't true.
As for the rest of you, it's time you woke up!
Wipe off those cynical grins and VOTE, like your voice matters
like your vote matters, like your freedom matters, and pray that they still do!
I'm neither a democrat nor a republican,
I can't stomach the hypocrisy of either party!
As a proud Canadian, I can only empathize with your problem,
but, I'm an impartial observer, immune to the fake news, you might say.
There's no defending this President!
But his Republican stooges, Fox news, and the evangelist elite do just that!
A con-man stole their integrity and bamboozled his way into the White House.
Now, like Russia's Putin, he wants to be king!
And he'll challenge and or change the constitution to make it so!
Where is your anger! Your rage! And your courage?
I hear some Americans praise him like he's the second coming!
And insisting his Presidency was prophesied in the pages of the bible.
In what wacky world is it even possible to venerate Donald Trump
as an instrument of God? Many are oblivious to the truth,
even when his narcissism and hyperbole are so blatantly obvious!
Once more, the human psyche's tapped and loyalty siphoned off
to advance the goals of one corrupt man.
In the words of Jesus, "Father, forgive them for they know not what they do!"
May God have mercy on our souls if he wins again!
(free Verse)
Mar.24, 2018
Yesterday,last night, our nation's people celebrated,
Over the death of a killer, violent in nature, decrepid.
A man from a wealthy family of men.
Him, taking advantage and really turning on them.
We will never understand his evil,
Turning good men an woman, children, to hurt, must be the devil.
The Koran, has basically the 1st five books in the Holy Bible,
Written for the same people, for their spiritual guidance.
This man, this killer of the innocents,
Will ultimately be judged, in God's kingdom.
Educated, wealthy family why was he so evil?
Koran teaches love and wisdom, why the corruptible?
Searching for yourself, is the wisdom,
Spiritually searching for God and His eternal kingdom.
To believe in something new, in a healthy change,
Was Osama Bin Laden was fooled by the trickster of this age?
I'll never forget that fateful day,
In a hotel room in Vegas, throwing my money away,
Was loosing, this was the gambling part of my life.
I was struggling spiritually, I was in strife.
Going back to this evil mans death,
Did he feel the same way about people, with his last breath?
Believing that violence really solved anything,
Was truly an amazing trick, by Satan an his favorite thing, sin.
Being human, having faults, somewhere had turned him,
It came from evil, a bad seed that was within.
His family I'm sure suffered embarrassment,
In their rejection of him, he became a major culprit.
Caught up in a web of terror,
He paid a greater price, he made his biggest error.
God finally said, "Enough is enough,"
Let's put this evil one to rest, and finish this blight on us.
I'll always forgive, but, I will never forget,
That it's only one less evil, We will meet more yet.
We Christians must remain vigil,
For who's the devil next choice, who will be the devil's next evil.
We have at least for now, closer, a time to heal,
We had to put another madman down, that was real.
We as Christians will always remain on constant vigil,
Being honest, fearful of God, He teaches us His own way to fight pure evil.
While there’s a lot to preserve from yesterday
There’s much to dwell on and learn from
Especially when you’re insecure and get easily carried away
Never patient, always impulsive, and too affectionate
A trio that featured as main characters in my downfall
And well, going against a bullseye intuition is what topped them all
Time and time again, my gut whispered the truth
But how those lies I told myself were louder, I never knew
What I called optimism was me crowning my doubts
Little did I know, my insanity was making the rounds
I let myself down almost once again.
However, this time, I didn’t drown or hit rock bottom
A surreal power pulled me out of what could’ve become a fierce problem
It was a whisper again, pounding my heart harder every day
It kept aggravating till it turned into a scream expressing intense dismay
For once, I gave it attention and tried to decipher its message.
It looked like a hazard sign and sounded like a threat
Telling me not to go down that dubious road for another regret;
Asking me to kill another hope so my soul survives
Pleading me to trust this intuition instead of those deceptive cries
This time, surprisingly enough, I listened to my guardian angel
I realised at that moment how it has always been the most faithful;
Upon trusting it, I see a massive transformation in my perspective
Gone are the days I fooled myself with a made-up reality,
That trickster in me is now buried in my past personality
Today, I am more at peace with myself than I’ve been in months
My wisdom has resurrected, and I’ve let my fears free for once
I have no regrets, no resentment; indifference is all that lives inside
It is, indeed, the most powerful state my mind ever needed to find
I’ve broken free from attachments, expectations, and erroneous hopes;
I don’t wait for good things; I find gratitude in every blessing that evokes
Now, I live every day as it comes; it’s best to go with the flow
And so, I’ve decided, this is my new home, today and tomorrow.
The Kakocracy has finally won.
Didn’t you know that?
The rats at the helm
No longer fear the rat catcher.
He was been bought a long time ago
And is nothing more than an errand boy
Who knows his place.
Birth has become an act of pure brutality
as mothers deliver them to the ring.
You better learn to shadow box, kid
because some of them shadows could break your ribs
with just one shot.
The worst thing that can happen
to those who have never learned to lose
is to look up at the fan whirling high above.
The horror of the unreasonable man
Is to grow lame before the final bell
And never be able to get back up again.
It is here
from money to the body
everything is owed and nothing is kept.
It’s just rent.
It’s always just rent.
Even the nameless
will pay the cost of living in a box.
Mothers!
If you love your children don’t let them be born
Not now.
Not till we drag the trickster monkey
To the guillotine.
In his right hand
Is the twenty first century
Which came on like a curse
But was delivered
As a bullet.
The only thing that will remain
are those mornings which come with an eviction notice
and a court date.
Those who survive
know the meaning
of the SRO heart.
At these depths
All birth is Kabuki theater.
Theater sold on the cheap.
Theater given away
Like a hot shot.
Chances are you will
Never pull that needle out.
In the wards
no angel dares to fly
not if he wants
to find his way back up
to reach the surface
once more
before the mandatory 72 hours
expires
and the man at the door hands
you back your shoes
without laces.
Either walking through the heavy metal door
or being washed out
in afterbirth
the lesson we all learn
is
the future
has become a torn dress
lost in a warehoused apartment
in
a forgotten borough.
It was a crime committed
by a Robber Baron’s pale hand.
It was just another show for all of us to see
as if it was just a sport
only this time
all those who watch
are an unwilling audience.
From his mother’s womb
One February afternoon
and straight to the Situation Room
Hunter Biden, we presume.
His father, with his thoughtless clauses and pauses,
Captured the most prestigious of offices.
And angry was the Republican caucus.
The Donald, he got jaundiced.
And vowed revenge on those Commie leftists.
So he rang Roger Stone
On the secret Bat Phone
I need you Dirty Trickster
For I alone am the true victor.
Be at Trump Tower, one hour.
Bring Nydia for Cuban firepower.
Stone rubbed his cock so mammoth
Grabbed his chalk stripe jacket
And went to save the planet.
Then magically, Sean Hannity
Had the audacity
To reveal our tragedy
(Reader, it’s tawdry)
The hero of our story
Had been groomed
On a silver crack spoon.
Alas!
Hunter made history
Because it was no mystery
Whose crackpipe it was
atop the White House
Christmas tree.
And who has the balls
To roam the West Wing halls
And drop a bag of blow
On that bust of Ol’ Frank Delano?
It wasn't his brother Beau.
Such is your brilliance
And your inheritance
The executive residence
Imagine!
The wonders you could do
From that trap house
on Pennsylvania Avenue
Maybe even replace Congress
with a petting zoo!
You get high
in polite society
No need for an apology
It's just pharmacology
In Hunter, we trust
the future off democracy
His cabinet? A veritably talent agency
Vice president Jay Z
Willie Nelson in charge
of drug policy;
Keith Richards
head of social security
(for all eternity)
Charlie Sheen secretary
of the Treasury
and Lindsey Lohan
your expert
on foreign policy.
Maybe, destroy
North Korea
in a bout of paranoia
But please keep
your stem in your pocket
don't let it fall on the carpet
During the State of the Union
Try not to piss on
the constitution.
Crackheads everywhere
take some pride
In our man on the inside
He’s from our tribe
sure he'll take a bribe
his brain is totally fried.
From one crackhead to another,
We love you Hunter!
Through the whispering pines, down the valley's deep
And wide, do they call unto one another, the brother's
Of the winds.
North chases east to west, as south's warming breath,
Begs to play also, once around the world, over land,
Sea, and mountain tops vast divides.
Tag your it, not I says, the three, as they roll, and duck,
Shifting thus for cover's airy currents, above, below one another.
The east wind is the trickster, mischievous fellow, seeking
Up behind his brethren, than laughing with sheer delights
Gleeful pleasure, until his companion’s kindred, catch up with
Him and pick on him later.
Latitudes unto longitudes, these spiritual pirates,
Of freedoms quest, to remain as liberation's
Outcasts, to conventional reality.
Mother nature's wild children of the untamed,
Swirling divinities whom never rest or settle in
One space, air spirits tasting the everlasting flavor
Of abandonment's desire, beneath their wings of flight.
Soar with destiny's favorite sons, brethren beyond
Human reproach, except unto one another calling,
Come excel with exhilaration's, mischief makers
Extraordinaire.
Ariel acrobats ascending, descending at wills whim,
Concurring the heights currents as invisible eagles,
Than free falling towards the earth beneath.
Gliding dare devils challenging the open air,
Testing the fates of destiny's sails, to imagination’s
Boundaries without fail.
At night fall a whispering voice, she calls unto
Them, mother nature, come my sons, it is time
To finally rest.
Yawning with their blustery breath, these tempestuous
Mischievous lads, float a loaf towards the cave
Of the winds, and dream of the chase to come,
On the marrow's sunrise.
Illusion's dreaming realm tosses aside, it's veiled
Currant unto these ideal God's, whom play with
Raw power's force, using it's strength as if a game at play,
These brother's of the four winds, set adrift within
This realm of imagery.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN