conceit and excessive pride of a poet cos last pill was so "right".
I coulda written that song, “Purple Rain.”
It didn’t take that big of a brain.
And I coulda written that song “Hotel California.”
But girl - I do wanna warn ya!
I’ve always been considered at least halfway insane.
The truth accounts for a fiendish bill
But lies are sweet and lovely, still
Honorable tasks corrupt the will
The loyal betray for an easy thrill
Trust is a burden on brittle bones
Deceit makes light of painful groans
Faith declared: knees bend on stones!
While pious deniers sit on thrones
Sincerity dissembles for your demise
Tricksters will only blind your eyes
Candor swarms the dead like flies
And devious minds honestly advise
Righteousness is both prison and warden
Sinners are angels they need no pardon
Modesty is yet another lavish garden
Where tender hearts learn to harden
Silence is a scream of ignoble deeds
That provoke even Saints to immoral needs
A life in deference to righteous creeds
Finally lives when virtue bleeds
A man can fail many times, but he isn't a failure until he begins to blame somebody else.
John Burroughs
bursts of anger once ruined me,
my hopes and dreams, fear and doubt stole,
leaving pain as deep as the sea,
blame the shadows shrouding my soul.
pride, the pleasure of vain conceit,
ruined the truth that did console,
more smugness than love could defeat,
blame the shadows shrouding my soul.
ego preyed on my soft yearnings,
dimming the light that made me whole,
masking warmth with lavish earnings,
blame the shadows shrouding my soul.
tempting me were life’s possessions,
felt like greed had taken control,
selfishness brought bleak impressions,
blame the shadows shrouding my soul.
still, I had only me to blame,
fighting my pride, knowing my goal,
when I failed, feeling so much shame,
blame the shadows shrouding my soul.
He's perspicacious he thought
Logical science he taught
Absurdity filled his head
Though philosophies he read
Your hubris is exceeded only
By your inordinate narcissism.
You erroneously believe in your
Immaculate perfection.
You address your "inferiors"
Condescendingly,
In the mistaken belief that they ARE
Your inferiors.
You swagger and
Strut about like a peacock
In full display;
Intoxicated by its own
Beauty,
Blind to its
Marred,
Scaly feet.
Head held high,
Eyes filled with disdain,
Heart swollen with pride,
Soul blemished by conceit.
Oh, lowly creature!
Moulded you are from humble clay:
Forgotten have you in your
Haughty arrogance –
The inevitable truth of your
Return to the dust
From whence you came…
You are the moon.
I can only admire you from a distance
Can only ever dream of seeing you close.
I talk to you, and you never reply.
To me you are the brightest being
But you don’t see when with all the stars around you.
They are prettier.
I could have chosen the sun, but you are the only thing orbiting my mind all day.
I have power; this war I will win; Putin thought,
Hydrogen and nitrogen bombs war crews threw;
Ukrainian troops too like classic heroes fought,
Grief, fear, and rage within the hearts of people brew;
Volodymyr Zelenskyy, help from nations sought,
Some shammed to show concern; in truth, away they flew;
We're superpowers, the Russians float in pride,
It's then the Ukrainians took them for a ride...!
NATO battle tricks the Ukrainians did adopt,
Vengeance from Russians with vigilance they blew;
With bombs, within Russians, hatred topped,
Within Ukrainians, lo, patient calmness grew;
When Putin thought the Ukrainian heads are cropped,
From resilience, Ukrainians, their strength drew,
Thousands of powerful tanks the Russians lost,
Conceit crossed, tossed and frost, finally did exhaust...!!!
01 January 2023
Sam walks like an ox with his gunny-box,
Naughty children count the holes in his crocs.
Some say there are ten large spots,
Others say they're like gun-shots.
Sam thinks they are praising his oxen-walks.
23 June 2021
In the mighty town of Stern,
Non-cake makers, were thought of
as lowlier than worms?
If a pre-made cake was bought,
Shamed were they and thought of
nothings and naught!
I am no humungus fan of skullduggery.
Nor will baking ever be my ecstasy!!
6-11-2021
Walking up a steeply-ancient cobblestreet, old witchwomen observe
The young man passing, sweating blood.
He has his cross to bear,
His words to justify,
Betraded for silver
His friends to forgive,
His life to forget.
A tangle of barbthorns is his armour;
He rules over death:
Looks well in a tomb!
Vinegar is his wine,
Children are his mentors,
Criminals are his company
His life was led according to his favourite adage:
"Do unto others are you would like them to do unto you".
While life was in its spring, a stream in full spate down memory lane from a bygone time and place that experience articulated into voices of poetry.Love and desire,whose shadow ripple on rich in melody, a poesie of flowers floating on summer air and yet..such conceits can be but a bittersweet fancy 'twixt verse and poetry.
Dawn
How to begin this day?
We all begin it in our own way.
Some frenetic, some memetic.
The worst way is to listen to
news.
So unconcerned about killings
of Christians and Jews.
But dedicated to do anything
for ratings and some shillings.
All in the name of ratings winnings?
Listen to their voices,they think they
are thespians!
Stressing drama and violence.
Never a word about goodness in
this world, it's all been silenced!
Like hungry guppies, we need
that morning dose!
You know exactly what I mean,
That somehow each day is just!
a curse!
Ungrateful beings, we..so
drunk on our own poetry.
Do any of us ask God:
"What do YOU want me to
do today."
No, we do not think of Him.
And scratch our heads..why
is it then...that this world so
full of conceit and sin?
August 15, 2019
I am a proud girl,
proud of achievements and work,
of family and country.
But, sometimes I lean
to arrogance- to much pride
to accept a helping hand.
____________________
October 28, 2018
Poetry/Choka/Pride
Copyright Protected, ID 1060-031-01
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Lolita’s Conceit
Obsession defined
Vladimir Vladimirovich Nabokov
An accursed passion
Love’s true abomination.
Literary allusion
Tintinnabulation
Sounding moral oblivion
God’s sure condemnation.
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved,
August 18, 2018 (Double Dactyl)
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