Long Cockiness Poems
Long Cockiness Poems. Below are the most popular long Cockiness by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cockiness poems by poem length and keyword.
Been… since birth.
Dear World,
It’s Capricorn season! Our season ends the year and WE start the year.
And you know what? So many people wanna be “a Goat,” and debate over who is “a Goat” and who is not. But if you are born a Capricorn then you already know, we been Goateed!
Yes been, since birth. Why you think it’s called Capricorn the Goat… duh.
As a Capricorn, we dominate and intimidate. We are driven and determined and best believe, we are VERY Vocal. As some may know, we are the most chilled and unbothered. And no lies told, we are very friendly and we are fun-ny. We are the life of the party, we turn up and we turn off. Some say we are stubborn and cheeky (and is) and it’s only because it’s our way and that’s the only way. We are the most lovable people and if you meet us, just know, you have been blessed.
Our energy is unmatched. We stand strong and firm in what we say and do. Our confidence can come off as cockiness or arrogance because at times it is beyond reason. But truly it’s not arrogance, it’s a strength of our character and if you ever come across a Capricorn, you will know this. We just built different.
We the illest and the Realest and it’s not even up for discussion.
Sincerely,
“The Goat”
No one missed the cock's wackiness, Still it was a dreaminess, Nothing substituted his craziness, Crowd appreciated Tom's cockiness, Actually he was a bird of laziness,
How did he get the pickiness?,
But he used his canniness, I admired his rockiness,
He removed our sloppiness, His fight was not spottiness, I was attracted by his choppiness, He got victory by his grogginess, Atlast he became logginess, Anyhow his fight gave me floppiness.
Alive, yet shaken to the
core of her lovely bones
youngest offspring unexpectedly
lost control of vehicle and groans
papa unable to comfort her,
she inconsolable sobbing tears
muffling thru telephones
safe and sound nonetheless
shook up like rolling stones.
Though dwelling bajillion miles away
in Bend Oregon beloved daughter
endearing supportive words
I tried to say
aware sullen mood
fifty plus shades of gray
impossible mission
to assuage grievous
state, especially cuz
accompanying passengers
namely my sister,
and Dunning family did display
anger at recklessness,
though harsh words
merely exacerbated upset
lass - earlier today
August seventh two
thousand nineteen flay
grant over cockiness
best appeased with je
nais sais quois gentle
kindness versus reprobation,
yet quite aware
castigating shrieks nee,
livid rage reflexive from
kid sister otherwise mellow
nonetheless hardpressed
regarding this fellow
to envision ordinarily
calm, cool and collected
sibling to rage and soulfully bellow,
yet informed charming product begat
courtesy mine biological
flesh and blood no
benefit arises to chastise
i.e. figurative flagellation
pinging hither and yon to and fro
but eternally thankful no loss of life...
whew, this dada would never know
reason nor rhyme
to continue livingsocial
purposefulness would heighten grow
wing suicidal ideation - I haint joe
king absolute zero
willpower to write poe
whit tree and/or flash fiction
decidedly, essentially, fervently toe
tilly tubular lee mein
kampf spirit bro
kin, analogous to falling off
skyhigh wall apropos
bailing out hatch of airplane
minus parachute gratefully dead
upon impact resembling red jello
splattered, the closest
aye attain tubby jiggle oh.
Recently, I thought upon the story of Jesus and his disciples having their Last Supper together. I considered the fact that there were few food items with which to part take. Or were there? For example, just to name a few, there was the bread, the water, and the wine; there seems to be no record of any other foods present. Or were there? There were other types of non physical food items present; the kind that does not enter via the mouth. For example, love, tenderness, and compassion were very present. Should I even mention that there was The Presence of The Almighty God wrapped in human flesh and speaking of how much he appreciated having a meal with his disciples?
Moreover, there was also selfishness with a topping of desires to be the greatest. There was a 'power struggle' between his disciples at the divine table of God. There was the 'love of money' saturated with greed; and so obvious to everyone, there was an overflowing of over confidence and down right cockiness.
'Servant hood', although not a very desirable and tasty item, was also a highly present entree. It moves me to tears to think upon the vast menu and entree at God's table. However, I am forced to choose only one entree for this Divine purpose. My taste buds gravitate toward 'the entree of service'. I must confess that this taste bud is not a 'natural one', but one obtained by observing the "Master Server" who said, "I am among you as one who serves". Lk. 22:7
We are programed by nature with a desire to be served. A baby is born with an attitude that does not ask, "May I help you please?" On the contrary, it seems to come with a list of demands like, "I want food, and I want it now!" Nothing is wrong with the baby. It's just the way we are born into this world.
Let me suggest that when we gather as family and friends for dinner this Easter, let there be something on the table more than ham and roast and a host of other delicious foods. let's open our spiritual eyes a little bit wider. I think that we will notice the Christ, not only serving up the 'Bread of Life" and saying, "Let Me Serve You", but He would be inviting us to join him in 'serving one another'.
04152017 cj PS
Can you grasp the thunder?
Can you hide its flashes from an overflowing river?
Can you pay your river Life a hideous win?
Can you call yourself a mercenary who is stained?
I want to tag you under the umbrella of twisted fame,
I want to hide you between the mischievous game,
I want you to quit the possession you adore the most,
Your appearance on every stage is just like a blissful ghost.
You want to attain prospectus fame,
Thunder is always a strikingly fanciful name.
You wish to call it by your name,
You want to dedicate yourself to a superficial aim.
Can your audience watch out for your audacity?
To you, the river is always an auction house of unbridled necessities.
To run from the light is to embrace the nightlife,
To live in the darkness is quite a harsh dive.
I want to present you a few drops of nectar from my sorcery,
Do you wish to call it your dazzling supremacy?
Do you want it to be the cockiness of a fleeting river?
You are nothing but a callow diver.
Andalusian Cadance
--------------------------------------
By: Kavaller Baritone
Fach, I refused to speak her name
the aquiver of her acceptance of me
halted my ability to reposition myself
to center my own ambitions.
I faulted where I should have been more
Concerned to the complications of task.
The competitive posturing between both Alto
and Fach was legendary due to the quality
of there works.Positive tensions gave way to
the male like cockiness which only inflated the
already huge ego's of both these divas.
I still needed to recreate the sounds which
would be sound to the octaves that these well
renowed divas would perform to.
The males were as egotistical as the females.
Keeping there personalities separate from doing
there work. From negation to a successful negotiation, I had agreed to keep separate male and
female, due to past histories. The Fach and Baryton -Martin were lovers who couldn't define either engagement or Betrothalment, due to other people's
lack of interest.
Disconsonance and a lack of involvement had us worried that we were spending to much time on the lyrical side when the sound needed to be made perfect . The Ostinato needed work and our conductive-mastroistic positioning ,had found himself overly concerned over watering down a successful product rather then soothing edges with better quality stylings and musicians that wish for successful interactions.
Trying to sound saged, someone spoke of people's commitment to success, caused a heated discussion about things that had nothing to do with our togetherness.Til completion might we be professionals!
New England's post election trees
shed a few teary waving leaves.
Morning sky tries to shine resilience
yet lingers in ominous grey overcast
of silent waiting through despair.
In Michigan and Wisconsin and Pennsylvania
tens of thousands of mothers
who cherish their daughters
are beating themselves up about yesterday;
longing for a do-over
to avoid confidence in false predictions
of safely voting their green ecoconsciousness,
or too quietly staying home
to rake falling fertile leaves.
Failing leaves feel their personal mortality,
too old, over-extended, to survive another bitter winter
of expatriation
while maternal nurturing root systems survive through hibernation,
deeply embedding in Earth's nutritional compost
of yeasty faith,
waiting for another Advent enlightening Season.
Not a branch,
not even a twig,
stirs from frosty lethargy
wondering Why?
Why would we decide ownership of human bodies
must be illegal
because immoral,
yet sexist and capitalist
and racist and homophobic
weaponized irreligious predation
remains legally and morally ambiguous,
as if wealth of straight white male supremacist nobility
were God's full harvest of religious moral gifts
Excusing triumphant patriarchalism
by betraying autumn's promised grace
Elite relentless entitlement
of enduring cockiness
to buy fortressed escape
from winter's monolithic misery,
EarthTribe's historical hiatus
from SunGod's evangelical campaign
of hellfire
Recovering
silent spring's radiantly enlightened morning glory
from disunited piles of leaving ballots
already composted to fertilize richer soils
in four more autumnal climate years.
Through Their Eyes (originally "Just Desserts for Rats")
Still touching the hilt of the sword, she declares,
“No fencing for HIM at the end of the month. His pastime is so bloody boring!”
The mouse in her house regards her with cockiness from underneath a chair.
“Yeah, BEN, my FRIEND, I’m talking to YOU.” She returns the mouse's stare.
“And you sure do make a racket at night down here on this kitchen flooring!”
The ashes she flicks from her cigarette fall soundlessly to the tiles.
She casually leafs through a travel brochure, then looks over at “Ben.”
“Yeah, that husband of mine sure thought he could fool me,
but he’ll never try that again.”
She fixes her gaze on Ben’s beady eyes; then back on the pages and smiles.
The names of rendezvous spots of her husband she’d got
from a slime ball she’d hired to sleuth.
“He did a good job, that big tub of lard. Yes, I do have to give him that,
but he sure knew how to give me the creeps with his body all sweaty and fat.”
She puts some milk on sweet rice in a bowl. “I only wanted the truth.
Cat got your tongue? Too bad there’s no cat. I’d love to see you swallowed.”
The mouse doesn’t flinch.
Now she looks down at a pile of the sleuth’s photographs.
“This first batch of photos wasn’t so hot.” She turns to the rodent and laughs.
“But this second group. . . .Every cent was well-spent
to have that bastard followed!”
She puts the rice pudding with milk on the floor near a form centered there
and stoops as she pours from a bottle marked “poison”
its contents into the bowl. Leaning down by the shape on the floor,
she says, “Soon you‘ll have Ben‘s company.”
And then to the mouse: “ Come here, little rat, come eat till you’re full.”
Then grabbing her bags pre-packed for Australia,
she kicks at the corpse on the floor so carefully centered -
kicks right at the spot where, by her hand, the sword so easily entered.
Written 8/18/2012
On this mountain of doubting they call life
down and out they call it strife
Stress compressing slows your stride
Hope breaks off but Brexit tied
Everyday a new begin
stop the mental lockdown
Everyday your hair goes thin
unable to turn it around
You didn’t aim for this direction
You were success bound
Now in pain and complications
down down until you drown
Ambitious once determined as hell
cockiness to get the crown
Now down and out seem to prevail
In shock rushing to the ground
When you’re dead you’re down
all this just a memory
pick your head up turn it around
make sure they remember thee
while your living lungs are breathing
while you’re feeling down and beaten
While you're hopeless lost and needing
in your hands if you’re believing
No one else can stop you bleeding
defeat’s defeat start conceding
fix the creak once fixed be seeking
In your hands if you’re believing
do you think legends had it easy
stories you hear oh so pleasing
not on knees stuck still freezing
within their hands they were believing
You can achieve anything if you set your mind to it
Marty McFly said on his time travel trip
You can achieve anything if you set your mind to it
Not time travel though don’t be thick
It’s in your hands if you believe
a Journey Don’t Stop Believing
It’s in your hands if you’re believing
Believe as long as you are breathing