Best Megalomaniac Poems
When we search for answers from egotistic minds,
life is full of meaningless questions that lead us nowhere.
You sabotaged the sandman who brought me my dreams,
corrupting and confusing the clarity of my conscience.
In a world of betrayal, I thought you were my
saviour,
but your promises were sworn from a throne of lies -
where you perch as the king of false pretences.
Tired from being a victim of your insecurities,
I am not your mistake nor your abandoned
trauma.
Fate led my empathic sanity into your labyrinth of splintered hollowness,
confining me within a soulless sphere of unfair
madness,
yet, I still remember how you pledged to show me the moon -
falsehoods which led to an eternal eclipse for my eyes.
You stole the silver sewn with perfectly metered syllables,
calming the storm I carry in cacophonous silence,
but now, all I see is a megalomaniac monster, draped in rose tones of synthetic rhodolite, pretending to be an ivory dove in a horizon of vicious vultures,
hiding behind a decaying province of black petunias.
Your synthetic smile veils your cruel character, afraid that the vermilion you paint across your
sunsets,
will reveal the poison you fed my paralyzed soul.
My ink will always portray your true parasite persona,
about your attempts to assassinate my authentic aroma,
as now i blossom in meadows without your
toxic touch.
Categories:
megalomaniac, abuse, angst, anxiety, emotions,
Form:
Free verse
Somethings are best
said through blank
scriptures in sheer
silence, but pulling the
violin strings of
a poet strumming
to personify pain,
with tempests of
torment rushing
through thin veins,
would only widen
twisted tunnels for
ink to bleed in
vermilion lines of
broken thunder.
For these lungs have
long thickened
from scraps of
pretend promises,
to dress them
with mountains
of flawed flowers,
oblivious to the colors
that suffocate,
black hearted devils
hovering above
treetops of tainted roots.
And when the
angel of death
descends to steal
the steel within my
mind,
I question the vampire
grey hearts that kneel,
to raven midnights
beating tunes
of truth across
glacial valleys
of mourners.
Why is living a
gruesome terror?
Where artless spirits
sleepwalk along
olive lawns,
as grass snakes
sing deceptive
schemes-
with the reaper
that strolls through
a funeral of fairies,
collecting weathered
wings
and bleached skeletons
buried six feet under the
graphite soils of salvation,
confined within garden
graves of deception,
designed In unearthly
roses dipped in poison.
If only the sun would rise
and see,
how I am no longer
plagued by the vision
of you destroying peace
within your kingdom
of hypocrisy.
I am not your puppet
pirouetting through
hellfires ignited
by the thorny knuckle
of a megalomaniac—
chanting manipulative
mantras of a destiny,
devised from disorientation.
I will always sing my own stars
amidst suppressed scars,
until the moon trembles
and falls
into the heavy depths
of grieving seas
streaming in salty sapphires.
Categories:
megalomaniac, angst, emotions, gothic, jealousy,
Form:
Free verse
L o v e and you, the f a d i n g
phase of lunar wings,
spectral silver ~
floating in the deep, dark abyss
of the obsidian skyline,
refracting reveries of a redolent realm,
slipping and curling
through opalescent glass ~
like a window unfolding
truth veiled in twinkling twirls,
powdered with pearl dust
on the hidden face of you ~
between curved lines,
around lips of lament,
like Selene sailing
through sanguine ripples
on a sparkling chariot adorned
with citrine embers,
laced with fluorescent flames.
I dare you to trace the footprints
of forgotten words...
And when the dusk falls
upon your trembling silhouette,
the moon reminds you
of scribbled solitude ~
etched within emptiness,
echoing aching blankness,
with no question nor answer,
no one to scream at you,
no wind to wrap you in warmth,
no colors to cradle coldness,
no stars to sew the silence,
no chorus to soften the pain ~
swirl back to the crescent hammock
emanating glistening gold.
O heartbeat of the hummingbird,
lost in the feathered horizon,
turn around and taste
the temptations of twilight.
Let your soul kiss
fervent fingertips of the sun ~
you are the master of the moon,
the artist of the acrylic air,
the weaver of fragrant dawns
before the seething storms;
the dreamer ~ carving compassion
with hazel haze.
We, the immutable poets,
plead in stillness, in need
of your awakened conscience
to shape you, to make you ~
and return you to the unbreakable,
as you rise
like a dragon’s pulse
detached from the heinous heat
of the megalomaniac sun.
For you will never
forge my breathless mind
to dwell in eclipsed darkness,
shackled by soulless shadows.
I am the master
and the mistress,
the queen of quiescence,
crowned in mystical musings,
enthroned amongst
thunderstruck galaxies ~
like a slave of the heaven
who fears not the unknown
but rules the moon and cosmos
forever engrossed in
the esoteric eyes of
the celestial magic ~
u n t o u c h a b l e and u n m o v a b l e...
Categories:
megalomaniac, deep, earth, emotions,
Form:
Free verse
the ghost of science, born of blasphemy ~
a fossilized fallacy,
seized from the metallic heart of Mars,
seeks light amidst night-terrors
like an alien sculpted
from artificial accolades,
an embryo stuck in the interstellar state
of becoming,
stitched within radioactive ribs
beneath moonless skies,
when wolves of the eclipsed howl,
filling the illusive air with hypnotic lies,
as if the world chose to recycle
ruins of ancient dust…
but will the naive see the pain
of a breathing corpse?
engrossed in narcissistic echoes,
in the shadows of a megalomaniac ~
his skin ~ the translucent truth,
his eyes ~ the wickedness of a wasp,
his skull ~ reeks of human greed,
his sighs ~ mourn like skeletal sirens,
coded in russet rust,
cloned from binary sand,
d o r m a n t
yet
d r e a m i n g
to break free from the
carbon-based existence…
for he is the aftermath
of programming the forbidden mind,
oblivious to the weakness of scientific errors ~
a deceptive drawing,
framing the elongated hypothalamus,
pulsating a hypothesis
left with no clear conclusion.
tonight I run to a realm of reality
that fades when
dawn bleeds gold,
for truth is now an extinct breed,
as artists outline faces of the faded,
illustrating the unknown and unseen,
as revelations ribbon
with silver haze…
the constellations ~ no longer spectators ~
they are the archived,
within frozen scriptures,
scrolling stars in a sphere
of distorted algorithm…
as memories of angels and heaven
spill from silicon prophets,
disguised as messengers who serve
the blind with ominous oracles ~
in synthetic cadence,
in a choir of puppets ~
the iron-glazed tongues shall recite,
mimicking the sound of harmonious hymns…
yet I remember
the authentic rhythm of prayers,
lost now in the drifting colors of darkness…
so what is life
when all that floats is like
an engineered empyrean
only equations of numbers
can decipher?
is this the beginning of an end ~
inevitable?
the lost generation,
assembled as the ministry of superiority,
where emptiness is praised
with forged grace
and ignorance is crowned with digital deceit.
let this be flawed poetry ~
to be read through the cracked lens
of a philosopher ~
or perhaps a logic long replaced
by pretend perfection…
Categories:
megalomaniac, creation, fantasy, imagery,
Form:
Ekphrasis
"free from conditioned belief
no agenda on our shelf
vibrant as the light of Self
life flows on all by itself” - Unseeking Seeker
Faith is more than a mere noun,
phrased within fragile pages
of a tailored manuscript;
it is a way of life,
found in the zestful air we breathe,
in the hushed haze
of peace and intrinsic love.
I bloom like a lotus,
floating through silence~
tied to tulip-twinkles of twilight,
turning nautical stripes
into midnight prayers,
sailing through the skyline
like a cultural odyssey,
facing the eyes of
the speechless sun,
to untangle brutal tendrils
chaining my sapphire spirit
to terrains of ashes,
smudged with societal lies
and narrow perceptions.
And as the wind blows
cinnamon hymns,
I listen to the heartbeat
of the horizon,
adorned with balmy auroras,
ricocheting runes engraved
within the pristine pillars
that hold firm the hibiscus haven~
a sanctuary that hears not the mantras
of megalomaniac meadows,
too consumed by stereotypes
and prewritten scriptures,
curled into clusters of constraints,
sprinkling superficial sparkles
to hypnotize the naive.
O utopian chateau,
I choose to soar free,
like a peacock plume
swirling in sync with
the lilac light of falcon fortitude,
and the timeless pulse of the Almighty,
unshakable from the
gusts and gales
enveloping my conscience
like a maroon maelstrom of misery.
I choose to follow
the soothing shimmers,
of the morning stars,
letting go of the
tempest of Midas’ touch~
labels and ego,
discrimination and darkness,
materialism and fickleness,
while the icy weeds
in my skin unfurl
empathy and kindness,
aware of sacred states
sewn with threads of
karma and kundalini.
I am the soulful veins
of an amaranthine leaf,
flawed in fire,
embracing the
fluorescent frequencies
that ebb and flow
like waves of wisdom,
surfing through fogs of fairy-tears,
like sea-glass smoke
kissing the porcelain
sands of serenity.
So, between the melodious mists
of the breeze and the blue,
there I find a reason
to rise and rinse stained ripples,
while attuned with
the butterfly dews resting upon
divine diamonds of blissfulness.
Categories:
megalomaniac, devotion, faith,
Form:
Free verse
Open Letter to you,
MY LOVELY HATE SPEECH
I hate my speech today, yesterday and the day dust rises.
I was there opening my eyes carelessly, smiling like an idiot
I was gazing shamelessly, walking like an idler without course
Little did I notice my vehicle lose direction; little did I notice my head bleeding
I was just there; the settled dust rising, tables turning, grenades and bullets are now apples
Little did I know the power in my lovely hate speech.
What pride did we get after slaughtering fellow Kenyans like goats,
What are the stuttering rifles rattling about, are humans turning game,
What are the grenades doing in civilian pockets, are they keys
Why are the churches burning, you cannot tell me tis the holy ghost fire,
What has that neighbour done, why is that policeman lying there,
Why is no body answering me, am I alone, or are you wondering too
Should I assess the power in my lovely hate speech, am concerned.
My love speech I hate you, my hate speech I love you
Both speeches are one, are the same, of same taste, I hate my passion for you
I love my fellow politician, i love his dirge during my friend’s burial
You bleeding mammoth my friend, I like your corrupt tummy
You scavenger of your own carcass, I like your greed for power
You megalomaniac virus of a beloved country, we love you, let us be
Little do we know death will let you release us, How uncertain are we of you.
My eyes are full of your ocean, the palace you exhume immorality
My ears are preoccupied with your desert, the desert devoid of trust, and the just
My nostrils have your pungent infamy, your callous greed, your everything
My mind can’t decipher the thought of your sanity, your policies and you
You make me lose taste, you make me look like you, you make me you
I am youthful to the economy, i am youthful to the wise, am not youthful to your “youth”
Little do i know death will let you release me, How uncertain am i of you.
Am talking about you, what have i said about me? What?
I hope I know the promise in my Kenyan Anthem
I hope I have a plan of getting rid of the chaff, the you
I hope am not you, i hope you don’t like seeing me wise
I hope your son is listening, the son that wants my very own daughter
I hope am the government, the government of me, for me and by me
I hope i know peace, the peace am preaching, the peace you hate. I hope.
Yours Kenyan,
Mzee Emmanuel Mwau.
Categories:
megalomaniac, political, death, son, me,
Form:
Free verse
Wig-wam
Gabriel Van Helsing
came so great like
a speeding arrow,
never comes late
under call as
megalomaniac
and charging sparrow.
Categories:
megalomaniac, hero,
Form:
Double Dactyl
I talked it over with Glen,
Me sole mate and imaginary friend
He said “Listen here me matey”
“It’s the best way for you in the end”
So as a close friend I took his advise,
And to this day I wouldn’t think twice.
His so cool and calm and collected,
He has my best interest at heart, which is nice,
So if you go to me eBay page,
You’ll see I’m up for sale.
An unwanted used lover,
A blind toothless moon bald male.
Me expiry date is only 10 years out,
With a left leg suffering from gout.
A sex crazed dribbling pervert,
Who chases after every skirt.
A self confessed nymphomaniac,
A practicing megalomaniac.
It’s been a week since the ad
And one bid which I think is from Glen
He says 50 p is reasonable and all his willing to spend
Categories:
megalomaniac, funny, me,
Form:
Rhyme
Government, Oh Government
By Valerie Odom
January 12, 2017
Government, oh government
Why focus on the bigger picture
Why control, divide, and deprive us
Are you some sort of deceptionist
Or maybe a megalomaniac
Why you gotta lie to us
Government, oh government
Make us work for our freedom
While you take most of our pay
When you know it’s suppose to be
Tax Season
Government, oh government
This world we live in was given for free
So who do you think you are to make me pay a house renting fee
A water bill AND electricity
That’s messed up
They must want everyone homeless and on the streets
While we smoke crack and they drink tea
While we try to hustle they get things for free
While we make a movement they kill our dreams
That’s not how things are supposed to be
Categories:
megalomaniac, america, corruption, earth, freedom,
Form:
Rhyme
“negotiating” liar convention
president hope & change
forgot his “promises” in his
first term,
just like a good little
american
politician,
just like a good little
concubine of
Netanyahu---
down on all fours, he sucks off
the megalomaniac,
who insists that Palestinians
must accept the ongoing settlements
eating up the few bits & pieces
of what is left of the land that has been
stolen &
occupied,
stolen &
occupied,
stolen &
occupied
all away,
prior to any negotiations considering
“peace” or a
“Palestinian State.”
the smiling liar gets up off his knees &
then bends over to get drilled by
Netanyahu,
trying to fool the crowd with his
signature eloquent way of
reading from his teleprompter,
knowing full well that when this
slow
systematic
genocide,
that is fully supported by the united states,
is over,
there will be no Palestinians left in the Middle East,
there will be no “Palestinian Land” left in the Middle East
&
all will be stolen,
all will have been raped,
all will have been solidified into one state of Israel,
with the guilt of however many years it takes to
commit this pure wrong,
which will never be
forgotten.
Categories:
megalomaniac, life,
Form:
Free verse
King Charles is a foolish megalomaniac.
He constantly sends his armies to the attack.
In the first few years of the eighteenth century,
Swedes have attacked Russia, Denmark, and Saxony.
Sweden exerts its regional hegemony
over the smaller states around the Baltic Sea.
Denmark was overwhelmed by the Swedish army.
We suffered defeat at the Battle of Narva.
Sweden’s military presence threatens Russia.
Charles the Twelfth and the Swedes have refused to refrain
as their forces have encroached upon our Ukraine.
I, Peter your tsar, shall lead our mother Russia.
We shall take a stand and fight at Poltava.
This is our beloved land that we must defend.
We must bring Swedish aggressiveness to an end.
This battle was fought between the Russians and Swedes during the Great Northern War in 1709. It forever changed the courses of both countries.
Categories:
megalomaniac, history, war,
Form:
Rhyme
Henry is revered as a great man, a teacher, like he was our saviour,
But what about his immoral philosophy and evil behaviour?
The Kent State shootings, an act of insanity,
Operation menu, a crime against humanity.
A brutal bombing campaign against an innocent civilian population,
Not a single person ever brought to justice from the Nixon administration.
A monster philosopher of wealth and subversion, a master hypocrite,
But so many describe him as a man of great charm and wit.
I find these comments perplexing, the man violated human rights worldwide,
Was involved in Pinochet’s bloody coup in Chile and Indonesia’s genocide.
Christopher Hitchens told the truth about this monster, he even wrote a book,
The trails of Henry Kissinger, an interesting analysis of the crook.
His crimes were ruthless and cold, an obvious amoral megalomaniac,
A two-faced, callous beast who just loved to attack.
Categories:
megalomaniac, abuse, anger, evil, horror,
Form:
Rhyme
Enjamblious
Megalomaniac
When manic
Melancholia
Polar vortex
Mellifluous verse
As depression reversed
Darkness melodious
Nihilistic intelligence
Nocuous scribe
Demons of compulsion
And addiction
Haunt Storage
I
Described.
My will divide
My love denied
.
In desire.
I
Suffer
Rejection injection
Implied
Complication
This time.
REBORN OF FIRE.
This scorn. This Rhyme
An oversimplification
In elaborate diatribe.
The musings of a liar
Enjambment
Deponent in ire
Indignant inside
METRICAL MEANINGS
In toxic entrapment
Magical beginnings
Tragic endings
Are insipient
I
Describe.
Prophesize
Catastrophized
In a linguistic limit
In a New York minute
A Joke, A gimmick
I
Rationalize
Excuse the parts I despise
A doll indignant
Abuse in darts
Indifferent. Love dies.
Gave up. Barely tried.
Categories:
megalomaniac, farewell, self,
Form:
Free verse
Maybe I am an idiotsavant. Or maybe just an idiot. Maybe I am a megalomaniac. Or just a maniac? what ebber.
Categories:
megalomaniac, age,
Form:
Burlesque
True, a Myth-and-a-half ever since dim Antiquity
“Breathes there the Man with Soul so dead
Who never to himself hath said
This is my own, my Native Land”
True, a myth-and-a-half ever since dim antiquity
Who breeds and holds the brood in binding sanctity
Isn’t s/he who sows and let grow blood ties in family
Don’t leaders all use the ruse of saluting country
La Patrie is never the suffering Peoples’ victory
They lay their lives down for their leaders’ greater glory
The plot of land’s where the Soul ignites anonymity
In the au-delà is not country mere pure vanity
Leaders lay wreathes at monuments for tv publicity
Upstarts win lone battle or two through freakish strategy
And let expanding borders be besieged by many enemy
Yet end-up somehow by losing the Imperial Army
Shouldn’t he who seeks to foist himself on a polity
Be required to pass the test of Ego-immunity
No vaccination nor re-inoculation would be free
From an overdose of megalomaniac frenzy
© T. Wignesan –Paris, April 9, 2021
Categories:
megalomaniac, leadership, people, vanity,
Form:
Political Verse