Long Pretentiously Poems
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In idle, I am prone to the unintentional siren
yet with obligation, I can pretentiously delude
concealing the apprehension... and the desire
Remarkably discernible from a mere moment glimpse
in her ivory mask with tinges of light rose
looming unmistakably regardless how afar
Yet, I keep my distance; becoming too nervous
propinquity may induce "Untamed Attraction"
in defiance of the restraint that I impose
Amongst the mundane, I unwillingly exclude
in fear of displacing the facade over this ruse
all to hide my veracity from ridicule
Is it in timidity that I indulge this notion?
Incapable to go beyond being elusively platonic;
in favor to the ethics upon which I've stood upon?
...
Alas, I bury any sentiment as a mere fantasy
to haunt me within my dreams; as I lay vulnerable.
In favor to the ethics upon which I've stood upon.
Written on 02/26/2017
Pacific, pacifist pampered papa
parading par excellent paragon
parent (parenthetically parochial
particularly partisan) parvenu
passive, passionately paternalistically patient,
paunchy, peaceably pepped, perfectionist,
perceptive, perennially perky, permissively
persevering, persistently personable, perspicuous,
pertinent, phenomenally philanthropic, philharmonic
picturesquely pious, pioneering, piquantly pithy,
playfully pleasant, pleasurably plucky, plummy,
poetically poignant, politely pontificating, popular,
positively potent, powerfully practiced pragmatist,
praiseworthy, prayerfully precious, precise
predominant, preeminently preferable, preparedly
preponderant, presently president, prestigiously
prevailing, priceless, princely, principally pristine,
privately privileged, prized, proactively procreative,
prodigiously productive, proficiently profitable,
progressively prominant, promisingly prompt,
prophetically propitious, prospectively protective,
proudly proven provocative, prudent psyched, puissant,
punctilious, punctually purposeful.
She looked at the words his eyes whispered
They were so much more louder
Than his voice
He struggled to explain
The confusion he felt on the inside
But his eyes took the echo of chaos
Gave it a name and painted it on a canvas
I am sure he didn’t recognise the emotions
Men are taught to conceal them from the world
At times that is what makes them so pretentiously harsh
He didn’t know how to respond
When she displayed love in areas
Where hate was his example
That didn’t deter her from showing love
She could not force something she didn’t embrace
He had to learn to love as it was all she demonstrated
Her plan was never to change him
It was just to show him the difference
In the end she wanted him to love himself
Before she ever brought her feelings into it
@181020161401
I suppose,
as a pretentiously self-uberespecting Wise Elder,
I should be alpha-embarrassed to admit
my youngest son,
unable to speak or even sign,
unable to even successfully chew and swallow food,
unable to walk without warm-embraced assistance,
is also my guardian angel.
Without him
I would undoubtedly forget
each day and night
is a re-newing challenge
to laugh with others' screeching terrors
and shared miseries of sobbing tragedy,
to listen patiently,
maintaining eye contact as best you can,
as long as necessary,
appearing to actually be interested and following,
or, even better,
actually become totally immersed in hearing
resonance and dissonance and timbre,
resolution and irresolution,
rhythm and patterns of song and dancing relationship
and absence of healthy co-relationship,
all before we speak,
or squawk,
as in the case of my guardian angel,
Who also occasionally graces us with shared laughter
about how silly we all are together,
or how great the front porch breeze feels
up against the birdsong.
My nearly egoless zero-sum WinWin mentor,
my youngest sacred graced perfection son.
How would I ever have survived his sister,
who is my Egyptian Princess AlphaPharoah BiPolar *****,
in a kind of a Nubian DiPolar Witchy Wu-Wei,
if you know what I mean.
Kind of like living with a five-year-old Donald Trump
if he were also a fifteen-year-old transexual
with bipolar oppositional ***** disorder.
I just read that to my guardian angel.
He didn't think that was funny,
so I thought I would share it with you,
while he's still listening,
in his guardian angel graced way.
We each take only what we yang and yin need
and do our best to cooperatively re-invest
all of it,
including the ecopolitical ****.
I cannot wait to be alone
The kind of loneliness to be yearning for no one
My life is living where my heart won’t
Is a life changing for a changing life to ever want?
No age can deal with changing time
If you haven’t yet notice how no one does...
We only go with how well we pretentiously shine
Leaving for a future from a slow learning past
I have my thoughts... what do you care
As well your thoughts... did someone bother?
There are just too much human beings to bear
And too much rules without a decent factor
Can you not see it?
We all add on and not start anew
Good or bad for our fabricated need
Better or worse we become lesser than few
I can see how life change for no one
So much everyone we have to be so alone
With so much changes to change what you want...
How we live lives where hearts won’t
.................................
I can't breathe
When I see humans defending
Their meaningless arrogance,
Torturing the vulnerable
With their destructive powers
Merely to be able to appoint themselves
As the supposed winners!
I can't breathe
When I read of animals or even humans
Being killed in cruel ways
Either by being fed with explosives
Or by being raped at immature ages
Thereby making of life on Earth
A real tragedy, more so,
Since, the perpetrators
Are none other than humans themselves!
I can't breathe
Whether am on land or in chin deep waters
As the dirt amassed
Is suffocating me
Being reflected in the eyes of those
Who sneer at me
Mocking my questionings and my purity
And spitting at me venom, potent enough
To have me shed tears of blood!
I can't breathe, and
Neither can Earth
Nor can the Gods
What was initially sculpted to be a fallen Heaven
Has turned out to be filthier
Than Hell
Even if the same essence animates us all,
The same blood runs through us all
And our bodies react the same
When faced either with the new virus
Or with the whims of Death!
I can't breathe
Divided we are, each pretentiously standing
On the lines that ground us to those
Who are like us,
But, each of us, hiding in our hearts,
The monster of Selfishness, ready to
Kill and maim those who hinder us on
Our paths!
I can't breathe
But I can join my hands
And pray
To ask that the Gods
Open their eyes and allow us all
Some means to save our souls!
The following initially crafted approximately three and a half years ago and presently brought a much sought after surge of satisfaction while meandering along the information superhighway.
Panglossian Perspective
Pivoting Poze Pretentiously
Pacific, pacifist pampered papa
parading par excellent paragon
parent (parenthetically parochial
particularly partisan) parvenu
passive, passionately paternalistically patient,
paunchy, peaceably pepped, perfectionist,
perceptive, perennially perky, permissively
persevering, persistently personable,
perspicuous, pertinent, phenomenally philanthropic, philharmonic
picturesquely pious, pioneering, piquantly pithy,
playfully pleasant, pleasurably plucky, plummy,
poetically poignant, politely pontificating, popular,
positively potent, powerfully practiced pragmatist,
praiseworthy, prayerfully precious, precise
predominant, preeminently preferable, preparedly
preponderant, presently president, prestigiously
prevailing, priceless, princely, principally pristine,
privately privileged, prized,
proactively procreative,
prodigiously productive, proficiently profitable,
progressively prominent, promisingly prompt,
prophetically propitious, prospectively protective,
proudly proven provocative,
prudently psyched, puissant,
punctilious, punctually purposeful pygmy.
True feelings concealed craftily
beneath the sheath of surfeit psyche,
fragile fantasy of self sanguinity fostered
by the colors of chameleon skin,
evoke emotions surreptitious,
pretentiously paraded skillfully
away from the edge of reason,
epitomize cleverly the camouflaged ego.
The chase of mirage
in the deceptive self-esteem desert,
etches the frail footprints
of delusive dominance
with scathing sandstorm trajectory,
but the squall of strife
over the dune of dwindled life
subsides in the inner space
of latent devotion configured
in the conceded cauldron
of self-less surrender,
where the shower of sagacity,
spurting from the fountain of love
with heavenly flamboyance
fabricates the fluid framework
of cordially congruent epitome of existence.
When in anguished awareness
the flimsy frame of self-image breaks,
it sinks within to reach the soul
at the depth of prudent perception,
attains the sublime state of consciousness,
feels the divine connection with God.
The devout mantra of the sanctified soul,
intoned in the temple of the heart,
resonates with the symphony of sacred spirit,
transcends the self-seeking perimeter.
The cosmic creator of echoing silence of eternity
makes my awakened soul proclaim
the divine decree, I am the reflection of the absolute.
WERE I NOT A LOVER BOY
Were I not a lover boy,
I would have thought I had
Found her of my heart at last.
Were I not a lover boy ,
I would have thought she liked me
From the abysmal of her heart.
Were I not a lover boy ,
I would have thought she felt
What I felt deep down.
Were I not a lover boy,
I would have thought we were
Meant and made for each other.
Were I not a lover boy,
I would have thought she was
The missing bone in my ribs.
Were I not a lover boy,
I would have thought she was
A life giver, a seeming quiet life taker.
In all these, she still tongues me of her love
Yet ,she elicit love from only her lips
Yet, she stoop pretentiously into my heart
Thanking HE for she conquers not my heart.
Alayande Stephen. T
2.30pm
16th April, 2006
For my friend and her lover whose story
I consider very pathetic .
Form:
seminal squirt didst sanctify
an anonymous boulder
when mercury dipped below
hashtag mark registering colder
than usual temperatures circa
winter of year 2000 in proximity
to the sacred chapel
at Valley Forge, Pennsylvania
(house zing carillon player)
rifling thru manilla folder
first inn search of apropos
mailer daemon organ muse sic,
thence finely pitted secretly riddled with holes
encoded sheet threaded thru bell jar contrivance
sans, handy dandy mechanical holder
to accompany prurient powerful phallic pang
bubbling (like the dick kens), and didst smolder
especially, cuz a free ranging
NON GMO, puss in boots
hello kitty sauntered
(emanating pheromone heat
hand dill lee pronouncing feral passe faux foots),
dripping, seething with hormonal secretion
uttered via vow welled roots
gluten and monosodiumglutinate free pussy
hapt tabby on the prowl ready
for par laid view penile piqued Saint Peter
to enter heavenly labial shoots
rather than suffer frost bite
the above mew wing tigress attempted
to keep toasty warm
('thou minuscule tunnel
lacked add dick quit light)
prickly endowment fired
raging testosterone
with braggadocio, brio, bravura and might
owing pretentiously pusillanimous feline
fur reed black as night
hood hit attempt to cap cha moxie orgasmic
thus ensuing a mutually satisfactory plight
until a park ranger back his utility truck
than gregarious, felicitous, erogenous
then quick as greased lightening
horny creatures disappeared out ta sight.
Form: