Best Self Indulgent Poems
blind minions do not hear
deaf disciples cannot see
callous subzero frozen feelings
breed gibberish jarring jubilee
this bloody blind-eyed messiah
rode to town astride an ass
belching barking oratory
for an aimless lower class
a starry-eyed astrologer
alchemist extraordinaire
summoned shrouded quatrains
revealing he baffles with a flare
loitering lotus-eater
puppeteer par excellence
self-indulgent Machiavellian
pitched fabricated arrogance
adroit and ambidextrous
he summons the mercurial mass
conjuring decrees and fairytales
dictating his rules pass
lose not a bloodied hammered head
resign yourself to a running retreat
le guillotine administers
swift sweet and replete
no man speaks of that not heard
or sees that left not read
bony fingers point with indigestion
reflecting in fractured mirrors
Posted April 18, 2020
Categories:
self indulgent, passion, poetry,
Form:
Rhyme
“But because of your stubbornness and your unrepentant heart, you are storing up wrath against yourself for the day of God’s wrath, when his righteous judgment will be revealed.” ~Romans 2:5-11
I am at odds with this world
bearing ill will toward all,
There’s a moral outrage brewing
within me that I’m unable to constrain…
A scream I cannot voice,
A pain I suffer in silence.
It’s like I am on a crusade to
right the wrongs of the people
and punish those responsible,
To exact revenge on those who
have soiled the fabric of our society.
Unbeknownst to me,
this seething resentment
is raging deep within my soul
toward the self-serving segment —
This unabashed hedonistic wasteful culture
indifferent to the plights of the downtrodden,
Pursuing pleasure and good life
while the populace at large die of hunger.
Some wallow in luxury and extravagance--
They hoard, they feast, they overindulge,
unconcerned by the plight of the multitude
living in a squalid condition
deprived of the basic human needs.
Yeah, there’s a rage within me
and I am hell-bent
on smacking the world down.
There’re people in it who are evil and deceitful,
selfish, corrupt, arrogant, marauders,
warmongers and self-indulgent thugs.
I like to put them in a chokehold and
squeeze the life out of this egotistical lot...
Lord, it’s time to unleash upon the world
the Four Horsemen of Apocalypse.
~03/04/23
~Contest: Writing Challenge "J" words
~Sponsor: Constance La France
Categories:
self indulgent, judgement,
Form:
Free verse
Brain is crackling, crisp, ivory bone dry
Gremlin stuffing cotton behind my eyes
Head begins to swell with torpidity
Vivid mind fading to transparency
Internal membranes breaking down
Thoughts run a deep molasses brown
'Tween thought and motion, expanding rift
Act of sheer will, the body to lift
Limbs grow wooden, ready to fall
Seek out the blessed horizontal
Cover exhaustion with soft frayed quilt
Self-indulgent moment’s guilt
Serotonin sleep dump almost disappointing
Blessed moment of irresponsibility ending
Leaden lids descend on eyes
Fading into a sky blue paradise
3/25/16
Categories:
self indulgent, sleep,
Form:
Couplet
“To be or not to be: that is the question” - William Shakespeare
I am ...
breath-to-breath the breasted thrums
a coursing quick to sear the veins
molten marrow, binding beast
to the neural tap-dance
bloated brains borne
a-back their own
self-indulgent
euphoric
ruin.
I am not ...
insignificance-to-oblivion the silent pulse
a chronic wound as weeps heavenly
barren, black, light-and-lifeless
the cold surface unrippled
yet trembles, wanting
a press, potential
shadows push
to escape
ruin.
Existence ...
babbles like the roiling rills of sudden spring
its actualization clear as mountain melt
relevance and tenor balancing yet
atop the point of sentience
let it run to meadows
ebbed and mindful
to blossom full
in spite of
ruin.
Life ...
miracle precise to bear from the womb - LOVE
solitary intent and pursuit of true worth
the lifeblood - sacred and timeless
should all and all slip the bonds
a warm breath will yet sigh
its wings, unseen, soar
it IS all and its echo
pulse immortal
blessed of
ruin.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Famous Poetic Lines That Inspire" Poetry Contest, Silent One, Judge & Sponsor.
~ Honorable Mention ~ in the "Brian's Choice 7, Any Form, Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
Categories:
self indulgent, appreciation, life, spiritual, wisdom,
Form:
Free verse
They stay in the background
stating a useless union still self-centered
powerless, ill-prepared, inept entity of promises,
the verbiage of false hopes with all the dos and donts,
watching, waiting, predicting, and anticipating
another's demise into servitude rationalized
with lie and innuendo, pseudo promises, outright lie,
treaties made never intended to be kept;
an envious and jealous desire of possession
over control, land and people, ever transitory
it never seems to end, forgetful of history's lessons
never once learning the realities of truth;
self-indulgent arrogance and ignorance
internal self-gratification to be more
bound by useless rhetoric and threat
and the human race reverts ever backward;
how long do we watch from distant shores?
as humanity fades into the past aggressions
back to the dust and earth in regression
of time in restart?
Categories:
self indulgent, absence, betrayal, corruption,
Form:
Blank verse
A wild flower, grew up through
a crack in the pavement, I wondered,
why already not trampled
by so many preoccupied feet?
Sat I down on a
park-bench, further pondering this yellow
charmer, to which I cordially gave greet --
“little tenant,” oh just missed another!
Thinking I saw it, knowingly parry aside;
(one wild flower, persistent, determined
not its beauty to hide.)
Unaware came a team of training joggers,
in colorful, striped briefs; legs and tennis shoes
thoughtlessly-trouncing-everywhere –
Feared I this brave little trooper had finally been
dealt its fatal wild share -- the wind of the runners' healthful,
self-indulgent passing, seemed more a cyclone of careless,
petulant stomping – no sense a little blossom would
they spare!
Deeply rooted in soil, it could not retreat, without vocal
cords it could not plead a shriek – could not shield itself
from such crushing, annihilating defeat.
Sat there I a sad bit longer -- would not dare open my eyes, felt
a tear slipping, my heart seeming knee-deep in morbid dripping.
Smeared blossom, and grieving sunbeams, saw I like a funeral's
dark-arm-band – a segment of my bright world, had just tragically
ended...gone with the lone blossom's, last futile, floral stand –
till a child opened my eyes, making me take peak,
a sweet little voice, not the least tinge bleak, as they carefully parted: “Oh
mother, isn’t that dandelion so dashingly chic!?
Categories:
self indulgent, courage, cute, emotions, endurance,
Form:
Free verse
Jesus…
When you said,
“Take up your cross, and follow me?”
What did you mean, Jesus?
What did you mean?
That cross…that I have to bear…
It seems too heavy for me
I’m crushed under the load
Weighed down…
Suffocating….
Unable to breathe
Much less move
I can hardly carry myself around, Jesus
And now I must carry it as well?
What is that cross, Jesus?
Are you sure I can bear it?
Is it the cross of self-denial?
It is my crucified pride?
My unruly desires?
My self-indulgent will?
My selfish dreams?
Jesus, is it that love
That threatens to consume me
Is it that love
That cannot…that SHOULD not be mine
That you want me to crucify
On this cross
That you want me to bear?
Remember, Jesus
Remember, Lord…
Please, remember
That I am weak
I’m only human
Fragile
Frail
Doubtful
Afraid
Most of all unwilling...
Jesus...
I balk at the pain I must endure
But….I know
I KNOW….
You can help me carry this cross
For you carried a much bigger one
That had nailed on it
All my insecurities and pain
Right along with your bleeding hands
That covered those sins
And washed them in red and made them
Whiter…much whiter than snow
Jesus…help me bear it
This cross is too heavy for my frail shoulders
Please, hold me in your embrace
Secure me…
Cover me with your strong arms
Let your shoulders bear the weight
Once again….
As you carry this cross..
My cross
For me.
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Categories:
self indulgent, jesus, pain, prayer, me,
Form:
Free verse
You may call me harsh or even wicked
But I am more than it because I am crooked.
I may look self indulgent or resentful,
But now I am transformed into someone more powerful.
Fearless! I call me,
Fearless I say
I am not afraid of anything,
No more aloofness,no more hearts to slay.
You may call me forceful and obstinate.
But I am someone more passionate.
Clinging or touchy is not in my performance,
Neither I am superficial or tactless
But I am the grudging pirrahna!
Yes! I am contrary and intractable,
Perversity is my nature and you may call me unpredictable.
I don't like flattery neither do I shallowness.
Being inconsistent and tense only leads you to loneliness!
Fearless! I call me,
Fearless! I say.
I adore spontaneity and daredevils are my prey!
Dynamic and shrwed is my nature.
If you don't like me I will not butcher.
Just speak your heart and live life in grandeur,
Because there are speculative ventures opening their vivacious door.
Categories:
self indulgent, absence, anti bullying, bullying,
Form:
Rhyme
I'm not afraid to die anymore.
It happened when I realized what it'd really been like to be young.
There were all these things coming in,
and all of them fascinating,
like the unbiased smiles of potential friends
on the first day of school.
When I didn't expect the pain to last.
When I didn't acknowledge that laughter would end.
But everything does,
all the good things and the bad things,
eye to eye, hand in hand.
I'm not afraid to die anymore.
Ring around the rosie, we all fall down.
A cheerful song for death,
because when we were young,
we didn't divide the lines
between right and wrong so quickly.
I was hateful without knowing hate,
self-indulgent without apology,
loving, giving, happy, sad,
and for a little candy,
anything could be forgotten.
And everything will,
so I'm not afraid to die anymore.
Now I'm older,
and the smell of rain on the sidewalk
tries to remind me what it was like.
Sometimes I slow down and let it.
There was the sound of church bells,
when they didn't remind me of the failures of god.
Dogs could entertain me for hours.
A movie watched a hundred times,
and a song replayed daily, for months on end.
For everything, I ached.
For anyone, I grinned.
That was then,
but it turns out that none of it was really lost,
that can't be found.
All I had to do was hit the ground,
after losing a thing I loved too much.
And get up to find that I could walk
with less care than was learned,
with a little less love than what was bought.
With less attention, the little things distract me now.
With hands that are open, but don't attach themselves too much
to what is felt, I can touch almost anything,
and nothing can pull so hard.
Not even life.
Not even death.
Categories:
self indulgent, childhood, death, me, song,
Form:
Rhyme
The divorce rate has sent my self indulgent,
millennial heart into a tail spin,
and I'm unsure if love can subsist,
although I find myself lost on cloud nine.
What's the square root of two?
I bet it's not unity.
My brother made a run for the hills, chasing
metallic, white powder that was more enticing
then life could be.
I followed after him. Hopeful, yet stagnant.
In the end, I wish I could see him again,
but my poor millennial heart is lost
in how many likes I can get,
and bhakti chai tea.
Remember how Mufasa died?
I'll have better luck with strangers.
I haven't chased my brother since the last attempt.
I don't want to keep climbing back up over the ledge.
So keep smashing that bottle of your favorite,
cheap McCormick's over the head of your least
favorite employee, while mocking the rest of us
for our lack of ethic in the work place.
We only just spent thirty-five thousand dollars to earn a piece of paper,
saying we can do what we don't have experience in.
My poor millennial heart.
Prejudged, but I'll keep my head down,
so I'll never have to hear about how bad
socialism,
immigrants,
or Planned Parenthood is,
ever,
again.
Categories:
self indulgent, absence, brother, culture, emotions,
Form:
Blank verse
Do you believe that beauty just seen.
I believe beauty is in the eye of beholder.
Variance is the key factor of any gene.
Everyone is beautiful, though some are colder.
Reaching your idea of beauty will never bequeath.
Since your idea of self indulgent looks are bold.
Individuality presses upon appearance of all.
Travel the worlds populous to truly unfold.
You shall see the true beauty of humankind's fall.
Categories:
self indulgent, beauty, jealousy, judgement, social,
Form:
Acrostic
Once upon an under edited and somewhat jaded,
female’s mid-life crisis
she sat down to contemplate the options of all her
“age appropriate” vices’
“Debauchery deficient”, “depravity bereft”,she
was "tragically prosaic”.
sadly ending her self-indulgent deprecation
with,“pitifully archaic”
Upon further diagnosis and self
evaluation, she concluded
she had neither mid-life crisis nor deficiency,
but was brazenly deluded!
Severe results of this delusion;
insomnia induced proliferation:
this excessively verbose and heinously,
superfluous pontification!
Categories:
self indulgent, funny
Form:
Rhyme
Poor, self-indulgent
now left with self-guilt, self-hate
alone to relate
Categories:
self indulgent, introspection
Form:
Haiku
Measles, mumps and chicken pox,
Insidious diseases,
Were all a part of childhood,
Paired with earaches, strep and sneezes.
But that was many years ago
And scientists have found
The vaccinations needed
So those germs won’t get around.
Except in some communities
Where parents do refuse
To inoculate their children
Due to controversial views.
So new cases of the measles,
Once now gone, have reappeared
And now hundreds are infected,
Which the health officials feared.
To the anti-vaccinators,
With your self-indulgent ways,
You’re infringing on your neighbors;
Sometimes selfishness betrays.
Categories:
self indulgent, sick,
Form:
Rhyme
The taste of you is still sharp on my tongue.
Beside me your form, vulnerable in sleep,
Unaware of the stroke of my hand along your spine.
All day I gaze at the gentle swell of my stomach,
Patterned with traces of silver and brown,
Your greying hair.
I’m sick of this routine.
Afterwards, you doze and I think.
I cannot stand to look at you,
Poisoned as you are, I am far more content
To comb over the many images and scenes of us I have in my mind,
A library perhaps you could call it.
Each time we are “together,”
I can’t help looking at your contorted face,
It amazes me to see so many thick, oozing emotions,
Growing at an almost grotesque rate.
They remind me of garden weeds.
In a struggle, they easily lose their thorned plumes,
But always leave a resilient root, embedded deep,
Soon to flourish again and willingly present itself
For another wounding.
I am nothing like you.
I’m pure, like an angel.
Typically vindictive, your catlike body,
Curls against mine, and tries to argue otherwise.
Its useless, you should know that
Chastity is not purity,
Merely similar in its perversity.
Your phone flashes your husbands name,
But you’re too busy dozing to move,
Snorting and grunting in you sleep,
Roast beef or pasta, which meal tonight?
I now also feel drowsy, satisfied.
I have left my scent on you, and now you are my territory.
I will store the memory in the library for later.
Same time tomorrow?
I can predict it.
You will arrive indignant, complaining that
I’m so silent, impassive and unresponsive.
You mean nothing to me.
Self indulgent, wallowing in your sin.
God bless my purity.
An infection in a tender wound,
Stripping me away piece by piece,
Leaving me bare, exposed and empty.
Purity is just defeat, and I am long lost,
Be it a blessing or a curse,
It’s in the blood.
A faint smile escapes me as I think of us,
Weaving our immaculate dance,
And I think of my purity,
Like a dancer’s failed pirouette.
As we lie here,
The eight wonder of the world.
Categories:
self indulgent, devotion, faith, people, philosophy,
Form: