Best Egotist Poems
Let’s take a ride, how about traveling, to outer space,
Just accept anything’s possible, it’s our cosmic chase,
Moving faster than light speed, in the blink of an eye,
Unleash your imagination, laws of physics, don’t apply,
Maybe stay closer to home, getting carried away,
Not that it’s impossible, Probably better this way,
I bid to free your mind, open up Pandora’s box,
Some controlling egotist, may be keeping locked.
Might think this is fantasy, I promise you not,
Keeps us unrestrained, from an imperious lot,
Rather we’d stay stupid, believe everything’s fine,
Brainwashed all our lives, left to tow the line.
Too many gaslighters, out for personal gain,
Call us troublemakers, having gall, to complain,
I am not preaching, just offering sound advice,
Keep your independence, for life’s full of choice.
Well thank God for google, if needing a little help,
Press a few touchscreens, a tonic within itself.
Always some caveats, beware of computer trolls,
Half decent firewall, should suffice on the whole.
Is too much knowledge, really a dangerous thing,
Worse than owning shotguns, barely aged sixteen,
I agree in some cases, ignorance truly is bliss,
Only if comforting, from the inevitable abyss.
Many poets shone light, on history’s darkest times,
Obscure aficionados, emancipating reality with rhyme,
Fighting nightmarish wars, writing obituaries home,
Bleeding ink upon paper, never flinching in their tone.
Others encapsulate landscape, frozen in winter snow,
How they portray nature, this rhymster will never know,
Beautiful form of art, smashing out from all restraints,
Poets you set me free, lest my tribute is mundane.
By
David Kavanagh
You shouldn’t ‘ve said that, bite your tongue
You said I look old, but you know I’m still young
If ever a wiz a wiz there is ??
I’ll bite my tongue and feel its fizz
You said I look fat, or something like that
and that I’m a tired, bitter ol bat
You know I’m a sweet young dainty thing
I’m the morning glow you find in Spring
You say that I’m just a crabby shrew
Bite your tongue and shame on you!
You know I display no angst or drama
I have the kindly aura of the Dhali Lama
You said I can’t write worth a dam
I never said I could but now and then
get in a slam!
You call me an egotist, a narcissistic freak
You must know my words have been tongue-n-cheek?
You shouldn’t ‘ve said that, bite your tongue
before you shoot hurtful words for fun
My tongue is bigger as you can see
I’ll pull its trigger like a gun then flee
I may be too tall and you an elf
It’s on the tip of my tongue…
All that’s said reflects yourself
In the end, the only thing that counts
If there’s any love in you, any ounce
We’ll bite our tongues and
forgive the fuss, which drains the light
from all of us
It’s written in quotes, psalms and clichés
Never your innate decency betray
Follow your own worthy words
search within and find someway
now hear the unheard cries
of dalit women plight
upper caste takes pride
humanity here despise
seeing the cruelty dies
of high caste females crucify
mercilessly their own gender
in the name of caste blunder
mutely supporting the plunder
of dalit women, who wonder
the silence of own gender
on the sight of feminity
in the board day light
paraded naked in their own vicinity
raped, ravished and trampled
no doubt upper caste feminity
is skin deep only
else they would have fought
for their feminine right
to live life free of fright
alas! they are caste blind
to see their mutual bind
feminists too are not so kind
to raise voice against the crime
however will burn candles
and raise issue nation wide
on death of upper caste women
died enjoying night party
such feminists who glee
in distributing pink panty
for women’s right to party
awfully ignores humiliating death
suffered by dalit women daily
story of dalit women is grim
suffers discrimination all time
as a female and a lower caste being
though struggling through adversities
if succeed to come out of the rim
aristocrat high caste vultures deem
her hopes nothing but dream
ever preying on her virtuosity
that dominates their caste superiority
arising dalit women suffers subtly
high caste people discriminating policy
based on caste as well gender inferiority
where majority prays and swears by female deity
but treat dalit women mere commodity
nation egotist in its democracy
fails to notice caste discrepancy
dalit women should now be their own saviors
pursue the legacy of Savitribai Phule and Dr. Ambedkar
be educated, be united and agitate
…raHUL
Pride & Arrogance’s Wedding
Pride was looking for a partner to share his life.
He found Arrogance and asked her to be his wife.
This would be the grandest affair no one could beat.
Anybody who was somebody would fill the seats.
Sarcasm would be the maid of honor Arrogance’s best friend
While Pride’s buddy Boastful would do the honors of stepping in.
Pompous, Pretentious, and Presumptuous found their places
While Vanity and Bossy were screaming in each other’s faces
Smug walked by with Snotty his wife of many years
As Arrogance’s mother Egotist tried not to shed a tear.
As Arrogance came in the room all stopped and stared
To witness true love Pride and Arrogance shared.
Pride took Arrogance by the hand to the alter
Looking stiff and stoic like the rock of Gibraltar
The wedding was beautiful but just a little odd
But everybody knew they were like two peas in a pod
They now live in a town called Imso Crass.
While Arrogance works hard Pride sits on his ass.
Arrogance, if she only knew her fate with Pride
She would have never agreed to be by his side.
But now there’s a baby whom she must take care.
Little chaos born on her birthday they now share.
Erin Soares-Anselmi
01/06/14
A Perfect Company
By: Noel N. Villarosa
They are the big fish in a small pond
They received kudos and power widely
With their bunch of fives used as their wand
They dominate while sitting idly
Been tasked in carrying coals to Newcastle
Never saw them as cool as a cucumber
The atmosphere of the office is in a chronical hassle
Mobility and formative years, they are there to encumber
World-weary, so he indulged into stargazing
That he was working in a peculiar place
Where people work with eternal bliss
Where no one to make shudder and no egotist displaying
Everyone is happy to comply with buoyant spirits
You feel as no stranger but as a longtime friend
Where giving recognition and importance have no limits
Different origins and cultures do blend
There were no rush works and pressures
No deadline to meet and sanction
All work harmoniously with pleasures
And get involved in another function
They were wearing a white uniform
No shoes, all are barefooted
No pains to bear and no hurting words thrown
A feeling of living in your own homestead
The place is boundless in its beauty
Where children play with other creatures
No darkness, only eternal light and free from enmity
That you can rest in the placidity of its seashore
Then a meeting was called and everyone gathered in the garden
He was introduced by the man sitting on the throne
He saw the man’s face as magnanimous, charmingly simple and serene
A soothing voice and said, my son, there is no contract signing that you can hold your own
Only love will bind us as one
Written and posted also in voicesnet.com poetry site: 4 January 2010
I used to dream of Frankenstein
When certain of some future glitch,
Now Donald Trump is Valentine
Of House’s Paul and Senate’s Mitch.
Yes, Trump is monster in this farce
Paul crazy-science, Mitch Igor,
The humor good though logic’s sparse,
Bombastic lies that fools adore.
Trump charges others with his crimes,
First charge makes echo sound remiss,
You sigh and blame it on the “Times”
Until he fondles what’s not “hiss.”
Yelled “Crooked Hill” till he was hoarse,
But still can’t make the charges stick
Has yet to share all incomes source,
He promised both, is Trump just “Dick?”(1)
Foundation that the Clintons formed,
With no malfeasance, quid pro quo,
The Trump foundation we’re informed
Thinks “Charity” just word you know.
Trump promised he’d pay for campaign,
So he’d be free of other’s sin...
Loaned funds instead, slight chance of pain
“Repaid” himself as “gifts” came in.
Can no one beat them at their game?
Or slow them as they stack the deck,
By cheating on Obama’s claim,
They plot the constitution’s wreck.
Where’s leadership to sooth and heal
Divided Nation held in thrall?
New leaders seek just to repeal,
The egotist, Neanderthal.
Now nepotism goes unchecked,
Can rich really restrain the rich?
Poor Tsar become our architect.
Whose head shares hole with ostrich.
You voted for him, now pay price,
Can coup be all that far away?
Your children’s lives the sacrifice,
Until then have a happy day!
Brian Johnston
January 10, 2017
A Poet’s Note:
(1) Another criminal politician like Richard Nixon?
According to Michael R. Burch:
What are haiku? In Japanese hai means "unusual" and ku means "verse" or "strophe." So haiku are, literally, unusual verses. Sir George Sansom called haiku "little drops of poetic essence." Harold Henderson called them "meditations." I think of haiku as evocative snapshots constructed of words: the flash photography of literature. Another useful definition might be "transcendent images." For example:
Grasses wilt:
the braking locomotive
grinds to a halt.
? Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
In the poem above, wilting autumn grasses and a braking locomotive grinding to a halt represent time, aging and the approach of death. Two simple images speak worlds, in the hands of a skilled poet.
While Japanese haiku have three lines with syllable counts of 5-7-5, this is not a hard-and-fast rule in English, so in my translations I have used as many syllables as seemed necessary to convey the images, feelings and meanings of the poems, as I grok them.
Jim Horn
I shouldn't be playing with things that I have no knowledge of up
to this point. At least, I have a little knowledge of it now.
I thought I knew it;
Had known it well;
Then it flew off into space.
Jim Horn
We are not sure and have doubts.
Then we become an egotist and expert.
Yet, still lose sight of who we are.
Jim Horn
We chop down others
That will build ourselves up
In our own eyes and not others.
Jim Horn
Is better to build each other up.
In forest, we can be tall together.
Until someone cuts us all down.
Jim Horn
The Boss Up in His Tower
By Franklin Price
12/8/2016
The boss up in his tower, and the worker down below
Had somehow disconnected, how it happened who's to know
Been together since conception of the business and the plan
Each one knew the job to do, both the worker and the man
The years went by, the profits grew, the way was bright and clear
The worker was dependable; worked hard from year to year
The boss became an egotist, puffed out his chest with glee,
” Look at me, without me, where would the worker be?”
It was he who had succeeded, all the profits were his own,
He moved into a mansion as the company had grown.
Drove expensive autos. vacationed foreign lands
The worker ran the business, exceeding all demands
The worker fed his family, paid utilities and tax,
Often went to Goodwill for the clothes upon their backs
The car he drove was ten years old, and always breaking down,
Barely got the kids to school, wife to discount stores in town.
For vacations to a foreign land there was no hope at all
Unless the money gambled, won the elusive power ball
So the worker kept on working, just to barely pay the rent
At Christmas time a gift certificate, for a turkey, he was sent.
The worker finally had enough and went out on his own
His wife and children helped him, by answering the phone.
He worked hard to develop a better life for him
Soon hired his own workers, paid a living wage to them
The worker kept succeeding; knew all not due to him.
Each person, that he hired, was a loyal working gem.
His policy was sharing all the profits to appear.
His workers could pay all their bills and take vacations every year.
The worker was not stupid; knew some hires just got by
Would barely get their jobs done, did not really want to try
Took off every chance they got, did not work so well for him
Did not deserve the profit sharing and, with warnings, fired them.
The boss that he had left behind saw the error of his ways
He had not done it all himself, being greedy never pays.
Customers bought from the worker, for the quality was there.
The boss lost most his business, he had no one left to care.
Maybe one day.
Maybe~ one day l will fly away,
Fly away to the moon,
And dance among the stars,
To discover the essence of spring,
On Jupiter and on Mars,
Ceteris~paribus (other things being equal),
To fill my heart with tranquility,
Fill it with harmony,
And feel the sounds of silence
Maybe l’ll then smile with my heart.
Maybe one day l’ll fly away,
To a world of realists not idealists,
Where politics is never deemed a game,
Somewhere where there is true benevolence,
Not benevolence to profiteer and make name,
A place where politicians don’t flaunt egotist credentials,
And absolute fabrication persists never.
I would love that kind of a place,
Away from the traffic boom,
Too far from the insanity of mankind,
So far from the energy crisis and global warming pronouncing world doom
Maybe one day l will fly way,
I might not have to,
If there be world war three,
Be it the last nail on the coffin of world problems,
Be it not, I’ll just have to fly away,
And see if dreams come true,
What has been, will not be,
What will be, that has never been,
Life runs in cycles.
So I’ve been told and so I believe.
Splendor amazing
People gazing
Beauty unfair
Creation, salvation
No trepidation
An ego to sear
You act above us
You are below us
Buried beneath your lies
Narcissist, egotist
Quaint Gothic God
Selfish, greedy
Your looks are getting seedy
Pretty looks, little crook
I'll catch you at your game
Devil with the boyish face
Go away, don't leave a trace
Steal my heart
Steal my soul
your beauty
My downfall
Splendor, amazing
People gazing
Beauty unfair
Creation, salvation
No trepidation
An ego to sear.
This could be Washington's View
Only slightly tongue in cheek
By Franklin Price
6/10/2017
This could be Washington's view
They've nothing better to do
Get Trump quickly out
They stamp and they shout
He's not here for me or for you
He's here for the country we bleed
For sure not the money we need
He has billions and more
Needs no riches to score
Doesn't need our political creed
The creed is not written this way
But is how it is practiced today
If in congress I sit
I am a half wit
If I don't leave richer I say
Trump's here a lesson to teach
What he promised does not plan to breach
He has stepped on our toes
And our out of joint nose
We're finding a way to impeach
You're a fool if you don't see he lies
To the congress you seem to despise
We care so much for you
All America too
That thought crossed our fingers not eyes
Can't you see he's an egotist man
Foolishly doing all that he can
Makes his own self look bad
We're exceedingly glad
His own fires continues to fan
Can't wait 'til he burns himself down
And on a rail he rides out of town
When we help him along
We seem to do it all wrong
And you laugh at the bumbling clowns
None of us knows what to do
Not Trump, not Congress, not you
Who caused all this mess?
All of us I would guess
Can't resist as we tighten the screw
If we don't quickly come to our senses
Work together to raise our defenses
Russia won't be the big threat
If we fall further yet
Haiti could conquer our fences
Fascinating Relating
So what's the use with muse. Seems to be becoming quite
a redundant word. Methuselah was musenthical. He was
the oldest muse to ever see the misuse of muse in the
world who was ever known. Interesting.
Many things people may find fascinating
Wondering how together things are relating
To the methodical matter now at hand
Why do in jail some people like to land?
My mind's poetic wheels continue to crank
Out poems while God I always will thank
Love what He did for me and appreciate
Hope my poems no one decided to decimate.
If it hadn't been for these heels and toes
And myself being in my very own throes
I would lack having an individual desire
To blaze trail and then find world on fire.
Am I either being an agnostic or egotist?
That you find hard to decease and resist
I may find a few doubts here and there
But know Christ Child a woman would bare.
Now that is life is over with and now done
Why still in circles must we constantly run
Jesus later in His life would try to explain
It is either Me or end up down the drain.
Now there is quite a harsh thought. It is
either Me or My enemy. I would rather
that mine eyes see His glory myself. How
about you?
James Thomas Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
RiverSea Plantation
Bolivia, NC
You are an Altruist.
You: ‘selfless because you give”
You Put others in front of you.
Agree with all else’s point of view? You are better than me because of this?
You shun me and call me an egotist?
I am. I am the creator.
Without others, you are nothing. You need others.
Without me, you are nothing. You need me. If To make and create for one’s own self is bad, Then what is it exactly that you so selflessly give away?
Would it be, that without me, You’d have nothing. We’re taught to admire the second-hander who dispenses gifts he has not produced, above the man who made the gifts possible.We praise an act of charity.We shrug at an act of achievement
I am the creator. No. not a recluse. Not selfish.
I am the creator. Non-conformist. Independent.
You? You’re a second-hander, an imitator, dependent
I think. I Judge, I act, I feel.
You, you look around to see what you will, think, say, and feel.
I am the creator.
Without me, you’d have nothing to give.
I am the Egotist
I am the achiever, I am the inventor, I am the salmon, in a society’s current.
I am…The architect…
Before:
When no middle ground can be found amid rifts
They’ll send in a few unsolicited gifts
The east and the west shall politely decline
each incoming gift with a two fingered sign
It’s ‘You show me yours and I’ll show you mine
You’ll find mine is bigger and faster than thine’.
Those egotist madmen square up, face to face
Each has a red button hidden some place
During:
There’s streaks in the sky where the incoming fly
They can’t be outrun although some people try
A sullen man says in a voice that is wry,
“It’s a good day for kissing your backside goodbye.”
One handshake may well have made this a good day
Instead I head home where I’ll kneel down and pray
I hope that my lady will manage a laugh
When I say, “Let’s hide under that old tin bath.”
After:
The dust and the glory, the horror before me
No Big Mac and no more knickerbocker glory
The buildings, the trees and the telephone towers
Lay in the dust made by opposing powers
We showed em, we taught em, that we won’t be beat
And we won the war but with ashes to eat
The reds are all melted and their allies too
And we reign supreme but hey… where are you?
I’m sure you’re here somewhere to savour our win
To search through the rubble for champagne or gin
It seems there’s no signal for our mobile phones
but why is your purse amid those charcoaled bones
What will you think of my distorted face
With tumours and fissures all over the place
The air is so hot and it hard to perceive
That if I should die there is no one to grieve
I’m breathing in soot and I finally see
Earth’s last pair of lungs are afire in me
My last living thought now that humans are done
Is ‘God save the west… and I’m so glad we won.’
I pray that Nature is no Egotist
That gets an A plus on a test
And doesn't study the rest of the term...
Though I don't judge,
(It's merely I),
You've been too poor
To not catch my eye...
You're assigned to give life
For this eternal term,
And making all perfect's
The rubric you've got,
But you've failed too many
To judge judgmental me,
Because you've born some
That can't even judge!
I thought you loved Art
And your every creation...
You forgot to make
The others hot like me
(Outside of the days
That they run in the Sahara)!
These very words, I can only imagine,
Are the words thought over the world and water---
You're full of yourself
To slack on them,
Just because you're proud that you made me.