Blowin' SmokeA Poem by PeteThey talk and they talk 'til they're blue in the face. When I need them they're gone, with barely a trace. They smooth me over and try to act tough. In the end, it's all hot air in a puff. They try to flatter me into doing their bidding. I know it's not real, under false pretense of kidding. They huff and they puff to blow my house down. I see through the guise and know it's a clown. They knock at my door with a freshly baked pie. They sharpen their tongues to sell their bold lie. Peddling bad dreams that will end up dashed. Their mouths write checks that can never be cashed. They comb their hair and give it a slick. Their game is deception, the art of the trick. They toy with my ego and give it a stroke. It is unappealing, as an acrid joke. Bamboozled and buttered like an old piece of toast. The one who wins is the one who does it the most. Their methods are sly, crude, rude and shrewd. I like to be kissed while I'm being screwed. They serve me their tea and perfumed sassafras. It is not sincere and ... ... blows smoke up my a*s ...
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9 Reviews Added on January 27, 2017 Last Updated on January 31, 2017 AuthorPeteBoston, MAAboutI love reading, writing, music, nature, God and feeling emotion, not necessarily in that order. To me, these things go hand in hand. My favorite writer is Henry David Thoreau. I think he was a geni.. more..Writing
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