Egocentric Poems - Poems about Egocentric

Hub for the hopeful Bevy of potential sent screenside Embellished profile Scerricks of authenticity required ...

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Picture this Meeting with forty-three women Two men Six at each table An extra squeezed in to one. Picture this I always sit by the loudest and proudest The most egotistical The one who always gladly shouts out every answer Sometimes wrong Sometimes right Does not count the wrong ones. Even if we laugh Picture this Loud and proud at another table Selects herself to be spokesperson Suddenly realizes she...

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Dragon polished his nails and admired himself in the mirror once again; a daily ritual getting so old. The one lousy hair on his chin, protruding from a small wart which he called a, “birthmark”; warranted a razor, shaving foam and aftershave or so he insisted. He blew himself a kiss and turned with a...

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Seem To Be Egocentric There are those who seem to be egocentric, And lead us around circles often concentric; Stupid for sure; Hard to endure; To him this pattern of behavior does stick. Jim Horn...

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The first breath of my life, made so many people smile... Where are they now ? If i wonder for a while... On that day they all looked happy, they all looked bright... Never saw them again, as they have gone far away from my sight... At that time, they held my hand and kissed my head... They all pretended...

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If yin is Time's regenerate intention then yang is Spatial Will, emerging tri-dimensional plans and structures of evolutionary form to grow transform polyculturally regenerate Yintegrity's advent resonantly fluid void of sacred Place, transparently and ubiquitously stretchin, Incarnating metaphysical timespace, excarnating EarthLife spacetime breathing in as out, ego/eco-conscious Alpha within as Omega without, birthing midway Mass of bicamerally dipolar co-arising Adventurous Peace....

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Ali, God, Buddha, You believe in what you will Beliefs aren’t worth lifes...

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The matrix drinks the words, in the anonymity of opaque meanings. Heart slips a flutter, to catch the unborn tomorrow. The deep azure measures the depth, the fear, drowning the architect, generic of doom. A drop floats in an ocean of solitude, a static milieu which has no quivering of its own. The roots always give pain. Your eyes are filled...

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