Best Self Defeating Poems


Out of Time!

Planning your demise is like 
tip-toeing on a tight rope    
realising there's no net
challenging a 
speeding car and
daring it to stop
mortgaging your manhood
amassing liabilities with no program of repayment
leaping to the wrong conclusions
leaning toward self-delusions
indulging in the same old 
self-defeating speculations
endorsing self-destruction 
till you're finally out of time!

Crying Out - 1

Weighty sins grab me;
Crippling me from what I seek:
Close proximity.

On my own I fail,
without any scrap of worth.
I'm self defeating.

I scream out to you
with rage that strips my voice bare,
hoping that you hear.

There is no reply,
as if you abandoned me
to rot in my state.

Be swift to save me.
Be ready to lift me up.
Be quick to forgive.

I still feel the pain,
and hot anger tow-ard you,
though you are my health.

Replace my raw filth
that devastates every word,
keeping me from you.

Please don't hesitate
by delaying my rescue
because of my pride.

Your grace is life's breath.
Without it I suffocate
with it I'm sustained

Please answer my prayers
and forgive me of my sins.
Have me feel your love.

Shameless Self-Promotion

Here they go again.
anything to win,
indulging
in shameless 
self-promotion.
layin’ it on thick, 
	makin’ sure it sticks,
		slappin’ it on like lotion.

“click my stuff,
and I’ll click yours too.
wanna feel like the best 
even though 
it ain’t true?”

back n’ forth complements
are so self defeating.
inflating other’s heads for praise 
is a blatant way
of cheating.

“do unto others”
but don’t lie, 
to boost their ego.
misleading them 
to raise their hopes 
should clearly be illegal.

no need to read 
a word
of their work
while scratching their backs 
bare.
skimmin’ 
	skippin’ 
		scannin’…
all’s fair
in tactical 
warfare.

poets thought to be adored 
while chewin’ truth’s gristle.
before you swallow,
broke a tooth that hurt
like a damn 
lit 
missile. 

feeding on lines 
with hidden agendas 
is worse
than bein’ ignored.
cuz’ when you find 
copy n’ pasted comments, 
your hopes 
are sadly floored.

how about 
reading and endorsing work
you actually enjoy,
instead of 
feedin’ folks a line of crap 
laced with praise 
and “atta-boys!”


A Question of Balance

...a tribute to Hermann Hesse and his novel 'Narziss Und Goldmund.'


Two friends in early childhood when their lives were worry free,
each pursued his own direction to fulfill his destiny.
One was tempted by the devil to devote his life to greed,
debauchery, dissimulation, he embraced each sinful deed.

He ingratiated himself with the wealthy, bedding courtesans and Queens, 
all the while maintaining strict discretion, gaining riches by deception and guile.
 From palace to palace he traveled, always escaping detection,
'til he tired of all of the cheating and lies, and spent time in devoted reflection.

Much older now, his skills were not the sharpest,
no longer did he yearn for wealth and fame,
he became disconsolate, and longed for peace and solace,
a return to the village where they called him by his real name.

Meanwhile the other spent his time in isolation,
became a monk and took a vow of silence,
as part of a brotherhood he was content,
rarely, if ever, was he called upon for penance.

He left his cell each afternoon to tend the Bishop's garden,
tilling and weeding the flowers and plants,
in the evening he could be heard singing, 
embroidering the hymns with soaring descants.

Asceticism is a doctrine that requires self-denial,
taken in excess it lays a burden on the soul,
a burden which in retrospect is seen as self-defeating,
what steps can be taken to ensure the soul is whole?

The two men reunited in the village where they spent
such happy times in playful animation,
examining their practices they sought an end to their excesses,
too much praying and playing required a strict examination.

In the midst of life's continuum to maintain a happy medium,
play and prayer and work and everything in equal measure,
the Greeks had a phrase for it ~ 'Nothing In Excess,'
a phrase we would all do well to contemplate, and treasure.

Premium Member Victim Or Victor

I wrote these five rules which grew out of some uncomfortable ‘life experiences’.  Because of these rules, I am not a victim.

Rule 1.  I will not bow to the mindset that feeds me the idea that I am a victim.  My perception must be that of a victor, not a victim.  The God in me
Disallows defeatism and victimization.

Rule 2.  Although I realize that I cannot go through life unscratched, unhurt, and free of disappointments, I will not allow myself to develop a self defeating ‘me complex’.

Rule 3.  If I discover that I am in someone's ‘line of fire’, I will simply distance myself.  I will not develop a paranoia that tells me that I am constantly the subject of someone’s target.

Rule 4.  The ‘poor me, they did it to me again’ attitude will not get me anywhere.  This type of attitude will not achieve anything except a basket case on the strap heaps of defeat.

Rule 5.  If I take the proper Biblical steps and keep Christ at the center of my life, it follows that I will not have a ‘victim mentality’.

(Originally, entitled The Victim Rules, written in1993) 09142016PS Contest, Victim Or Victor, Nayda Negron

Premium Member Obscurity

Our lives are but a breath

     so minuscule in the vastness

of time               and the cosmos

that insignificance               that dresses our life

              is barely realized          by those

seeking to define      what is being          self

and the paths          of humanities     dichotomy

    desertion of all worth       and depredations unconcealed 

to     superfluous self exaltation 

           its a wonder the species

has survived          even to this time

    a continual examination

of embedded frailties             that are self defeating

    but in whose apex

            will surrender  one’s own life

in order        to preserve         another’s

   and not meaning     the kind       a government demands

 

also the ability to        sleepwalk    through life

         with so few moments of clarity

         that Jesus could pronounce 

“Let the dead bury the dead ” 

 

One atom alone       contains enough energy

         to obliterate  a multitude 

         of cities upon its release

 

yet our bodies contain billions

of those little energy factories

               but the amount           of all that energy

in the cosmos                is beyond all comprehension

 

I should be moving at the speed of Light

                   but I prefer a snails pace 

 

Or how easily      our ability to think

submits itself            to ideological shackles 

        imposed by the self appointed  masters

of the bastions           of a caste system

           that plagues   every strata    and path

and highway threading the lives      of “humans”

 

            A species so             full of darkness

where the          divine spark        is nearly   dormant

             you are           what            I   Am 

 

                 Go and learn what that means 

 

Look! You have made my days just a few;And my life’s duration is as nothing in front of you.Surely every earthling man, though standing firm, is nothing but an exhalation.

Surely in a semblance man walks about.Surely they are boisterous in vain.One piles up things and does not know who will be gathering them.

Psalms 39 

COPYRIGHT © 2013 C Michael Miller

via Duboff Law Group LLC


A Question of Balance

...a tribute to Hermann Hesse and his novel 'Narziss Und Goldmund.'

                            ***********

Two friends in early childhood when their lives were worry free,
each pursued his own direction to fulfill his destiny.
One was tempted by the devil to devote his life to greed,
debauchery, dissimulation, he embraced each sinful deed.

He ingratiated himself with the wealthy, bedding courtesans and Queens, 
all the while maintaining strict discretion, gaining riches by deception and guile.
 From palace to palace he traveled, always escaping detection,
'til he tired of all of the cheating and lies, and spent time in devoted reflection.

Much older now, his skills were not the sharpest,
no longer did he yearn for wealth and fame,
he became disconsolate, and longed for peace and solace,
a return to the village where they called him by his real name.

Meanwhile the other spent his time in isolation,
became a monk and took a vow of silence,
as part of a brotherhood he was content,
rarely, if ever, was he called upon for penance.

He left his cell each afternoon to tend the Bishop's garden,
tilling and weeding the flowers and plants,
in the evening he could be heard singing, 
embroidering the hymns with soaring descants.

Asceticism is a doctrine that requires self-denial,
taken in excess it lays a burden on the soul,
a burden which in retrospect is seen as self-defeating,
what steps can be taken to ensure the soul is whole?

The two men reunited in the village where they spent
such happy times in playful animation,
examining their practices they sought an end to their excesses,
too much praying and playing required a strict examination.

In the midst of life's continuum to maintain a happy medium,
play and prayer and work and everything in equal measure,
the Greeks had a phrase for it ~ 'Nothing In Excess,'
a lifestyle we would all do well to emulate and treasure.

  
Copyright © 2016 Keith Bickerstaffe

Wife Driving Me Crazy

Wife Driving Me Crazy

That is exactly what she is doing
More of it appear to be ensuing
Both Hillary clothes and her hair
Should thrown away some where.

What she needs is fresh new start
So President can play the part
And not into a deep well be dug
When her clothes look like a rug.

Needs a change and new direction
To cover up her whole midsection
Clothes style and hair we are meeting
Both of them seem to be self-defeating.

So to appropriate people please forward 
So that Hillary supporters can look toward
That up to standards of modernization
She will look like after further examination.

Forward this to appropriate parties and
associates this would apply to,

I have been trying @chriscuomo
and haven't had any look and know 
that I can depend upon all of you experts.

Jim Horn
© James Horn  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Self Defeating Rescue

The scream assaults my ears,
rips open my heart.

I catch Petunia, fat cat hunter,
and snatch the baby bunny
from her mouth.

Strong and determined,
she jumps free,
goes after her prey.

Repeatedly, I force
Petunia's jaws open
to release the terrified bunny.

On the third try, my grip holds.
Baby bunny flees
toward the distant tree line,
tiny legs pumping
like mechanical pistons.

Petunia sulks,
tail switching in anger.
I breathe a sigh of relief.

"He'll come back," hubby says, smiling,
"when he's grown,
  and eat your flowers."
© Cona Adams  Create an image from this poem.

Perhaps

Do you think it possible to smash stone cases with a pillow?
You would be wrong because stone vases can be knocked from high places.
It's the same with our facade halls of celebrity and wealth.
Leaders leading death race with ungodly pace behind detached faces.
Do you think it's possible to learn whats not written; deaf, dumb and without vision?
You would be wrong because experience is the stern and the sandman, the precision.
Educate what's must; learn to conform whilst system distrust avow.
Observance not of with what, but action with gut and learning how.
Do you think it's possible for a branch to fall and never hit the ground?
You would be wrong because a thin slice climbs higher from whence it was found.
It's the same as a babe born to the dirt, who's cry is unsatisfied.
We claw for what feeds us and struggle until we've died.
The impossible thing is simply an idea that weakness gave up on.
The burden of guilt every person has shouldered in abject failure.
Impossible is just an idea. A self imposed life story trailer.
Its all a ridiculous circus of self defeating false behaviour.
You can be a pawn or push back and find that you endure.
It's a practice I fear; something I can't get right.
Sometimes I have flow. Sometimes I lay in fear at night.
I started to write with no clear thought in my pen.
I am not sure what I think now or what I mused then.
Maybe, I write as a reminder to myself on a different day.
Convoluted advice for you, a light for my feet when I've lost the way?
.....perhaps.

-Angel Fatale-
© Ryan Tyler  Create an image from this poem.

Exchanged For Youth

I will count no more those wasted tears
as gambled wages spent
for all my days in toiled years
were worthy of every cent

It's sure, not all my dreams came true
and love it came and went
but for all the trials and all the moods
like a staircase it mapped my assent

For in wisdom gained abides these three
reflection, limitation and experience 
through alterations I couldn't foresee 
they crushed or bred resilience 

Reflection remains the wisest call
where limitation magnifies humility
experience is the worst of all
bitterness can be self-defeating hostility

As a child born to a wandering sea
I board the ship of pearl
and bind myself to reflections plea
as ties of error unfurl

Before me now is the cost revealed
wisdom has taught me many a truth
It's sunless crypt has come unsealed
and taken in exchange my youth

Filling Up My Spaces With Words

Some have this wrong conception of me...
being separated from society,
and it may seem strange or naive
that isolation is what I choose;
and they deride me with malevolence!
Am I someone so maleficient...
that they fear me so obsessingly,
or is there any other reason beyond that? 

I fill up my spaces with words,
that aren't the fragraments 
of someone's else voice...
which comfirms frivolity;
I come right in the open and declare them
with unresisting liberty..
and it would self-defeating, if I didn't seek fame
and stood out from others who condone originality! 

People without wisdom
are prone to make mistakes,
to be so norrow-minded...not to see 
their false image in that illusionary mirrow;
and their views are clouded by perverseness,
but mine are as sparkling and pure
as the clear waters of a wide river,
which empties itself into the untroubled sea!

I fill up my spaces with words so delightful,
that are an alternative to pain;
a-newly-found-cure for loneliness...
to be lifted up by worthiness,
and disregard what's so harmful,
insignificant and vain:
to be seen in the spotlight,
which seldom doesn't seem so bright!

Eclipse

Touched by you, I am
Eclipsed:

Wanton, we gather superficially at the
Center of warm flesh,
Decoding one another's fractured forms.

I feel, for all purposes, in a 
Self-defeating sense, Desire
Of tidal proportions, an Oceanic
Onrush, only to be drowned in.


"Eclipse"
Jenna-Nichole Conrad
Wordsmith

Premium Member Upon Waking

I woke, and in a voice unlike my own, I spoke,
"Am I having nothing more than a dream,
and my heart deceived by a reverie in a cloak?”
I beg, tell me things are not what they now seem
and that these last hours spent held in rapt passion...
were they an illusion and not what I deemed real?
Were I to see my face in a mirror, would it be ashen?
I'm not at all certain about the emotions I feel.

If I have dreams within dreams, how fragile and fleeting.
And if I should wake to the reality of being all alone,
then the purpose of having them is entirely self-defeating.
I shall punch my pillow as a foe, sigh, weep and moan
without returning to my reverie, refusing to slumber on.
I'll never wish to be a spying voyeur in my own dream,
a mere object of affection, on the chessboard, a pawn.
No, the thought of that fantasy is a nightmarish scheme.

What was I thinking before I closed my eyes and slept?
If it causes dreams like these, then wake me in my bed,
if from rival night visions that found cause to intercept.
But if perchance they're rhapsodies, leave me, instead.
It's not within the realm of an impossibility, I suspect,
but it would be a less than perfect aspiration I would seek.
To live in a dream inside a dream, I'd have want to reject.
For the dreamworld of others, I dare not judge nor speak.

If I cannot dream peacefully of where I wish to be
then give me constant sunlight so my eyes never close.
And please nudge me if I doze. Pull the blanket from me
so never shall I dream again, nor smell the scent of a rose.
Worthless would be my dream state without aspirations
of finding a fairytale love, in a dreamscape for my pleasure.
One in which I feel love's tender emotions and sensations,
each enjoyed for its own affectionate merit and measure.
© Lin Lane  Create an image from this poem.

Hilarity At Hillary Popularity

Hilarity At Hillary Popularity

Heard they were having much hilarity
With Hillary and all of her popularity
With appearances that are populating 
And her challengers are all hesitating.

They will blatantly need an antidote
No one for them does want to vote
Like plague Republicans are treated
They themselves are being self-defeated.

Self-defeating is a disease these days
Results of it surely will truly amaze
Tearing down those for their own benefit
This is one more thing they should quit.

Positive is pretending people will think
When willing and able to raise a stink
Read Corinthians Two and Beatitudes
When you want to find right attitudes.

So why should I want to be so rude?
Crewed way of seeing world they viewed 
Members have more then one hen-peck
And are extremely red around the neck.

James Voracious Hellacious Horn
Retired Veteran and Profound Poet
RiverSea Plantation
Bolivia, NC 28422
© James Horn  Create an image from this poem.

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