Best Brash Poems
"I would rather be on a leaky ship that is mine, than aboard a more seaworthy vessel going where I don't wish it to go"—Poet's alter ego
Yes, I know what I’m doing
I’m the master of my fate
The captain of the sinking ship
Seeking harbor in ports whether safe or rocky
With gusto I plow through uncharted frontiers
Why do I do these things to myself? you ask
Perhaps I’m a rebel in search of what's unbeknownst
to me, in search of virgin long lost horizons pristine
Horizons others deem unreachable
I’m bold, brash and yeah sassy, brassy
And irrepressible! You can’t love me you see,
I’m a Lonewolf, and it's quite fine, to be…
Untamed as the wild northern wind
Sweeping the prairies with a gusting woman’s surge
Nature's raw elements try in vain to halt my advances
But I laugh and mock at Mother's efforts
Although I’m tossed and torn
In the grips of Her relentless tempests,
Her storms of fury suppressing, oppressing
Her stern and staid demands to obey, tame and domesticate
You may say I’m the constructor of my own chaos
A free-spirit, challenging myself
My integrity intact, place not your pity on me
Respect is my hallmark and independence,
my calling.
brash and bad young boys
who waged war with firecrackers...
still count ten fingers
How does one survive among legendary and wealthy men
by being shrewd and brash?
Be a menacing wolf, not a fearful lamb!
Learn their secret to unleash power and you'll win!
How did Trump and gates amass riches
by inheritance or using their heads?
Fill up your piggy jar to the rim: a hundred pennies make a dollar,
and by adding nickels and dimes your saving will surely grow.
Some invest in the Stock Market,
but considering today's economic woes one must refrain
from investing large amounts, or lose a lot;
invest in real estate, reap huge profits and risk none.
True, I do practice the act of introversion quite a bit,
But why should I be blamed? To what am I to admit
When I am not the transgressor in question?
I am not typically one to act in aggression,
Towards others in outward ways, I should say,
For, only in privacy, do I sometimes get irate,
Never to those who desire to brighten my day
But rather to those who nourish from the hate,
For such creatures, as it pains me to claim,
Seem only to grow, to fester in number by the hour,
Corrupting the pure, convincing them they are the same,
That despite the effort, all people are equally as sour.
You may call me cynical, but even still,
Do be confident that I do not speak in vain
Since it is not by my own design or will
That some tend to thrive from others’ pain,
Nor that, sometimes, the weakest among the populace,
Often those who are primarily afflicted,
Are given no respite, no chance at joyfulness
And consequently cause more pain, their sorrows reflected.
An unfortunate truth, just as this may be,
It is not its existence which vexes me so
But rather how it perseveres, us acting carefree,
Acting in ignorance, feeding the spiteful weeds we sow.
And so he was right, Voltaire was, when once he said
That those who believe blindly inevitably regress,
And commit atrocities, not caring who ends up dead,
Pinning the blame on others, if only to digress.
Is this what it’s come to? Rashness without rationale?
No, I fear it is far worse, for it is the Death of Morale.
Something draws me to you,
A strange feeling of knowing,
I know I love you,
Though I cannot place when,
Your smile makes my heart race,
And I cherish the words from your lips,
I feel connected to another life,
Another me, Another you,
Your hand fits into mine,
Just as your lips, completely perfect,
You are soft-spoken,
While I am brash,
You are cold,
And I am hot,
Somehow I have known you long before,
Before this autumn day,
Who are you to me?
I must wonder who we are,
Are we made for each-other?
Maybe this connection is something,
Or maybe it is a remnant of dust,
Something lost, that was never meant to be found,
I feel this ache in my soul,
Every moment we part,
Calling for you,
Howling that it is alone,
Do you feel the same?