Inspired by one witty Nate White, of Britain
I vote him in a year ago
Vainglory man with orange glow
We didn’t have another choice
The country spoke, a single voice
I hate him not, he is the boss
There’s way his power comes across
So much revealed as time goes
For us to find and him disclose
No class, no charm, no wit, but troll
No warmth at all in present role
No wisdom, honor, humor, grace
Insults dispatched when face-to-face
He can be nasty, don’t show soul
He bashes heads to reach one’s goal
Lack of nuance and spite don’t stop
Behaves like bull in china shop
Offensive, crass, with shallow scope
We pray and watch, while harbor hope
For better life and worldly peace
He's mostly driven by caprice
Not man of word, give and withdraw
Commits to Russia win the war
He shakes the world to see what comes
Yet some big plans are yielding crumbs
Ain’t no compassion, noble not
Aims cutting Middle Eastern knot
Amusing? No, this isn’t the case
Who are you, Mr. Orange Face?
August 30, 2025
What with vainglory, vanity’s wan pride,
I once asked my ego what makes it go:
He said: I’m not on a vainglorious ride,
Nor does hollow arrogance make me blow,
Vanity’s just the vehicle for my use,
Me and mine’s not my true identity,
To be suffused with pride is no abuse,
Nor is soaring on one’s wings, vanity.
Me think soul boasts as big daddy behind,
My claim’s nigh humble, pretty down to earth,
Unlike soul, I am my own unique kind,
Discerning few get to know my true worth,
I stand for reason, sanity well nigh,
Confuse me not with id, nor super I.
______________________________________
Sonnet |01.09.2005| Self, ego
Poet’s note: Ego is one’s orientation with body, mind and intellect, as against with soul, the true Self. Yet, without a bit of ego orientation, one is as good as dead. Freud gave the terms id, ego, and super ego, which someone interpreted as ‘it’, the ‘I’, and ‘beyond I’. Here in this light-hearted piece, ego points an accusing finger at id, and super ego, while pulling soul’s leg. The mood of the poem is tongue-in-cheek.
If vainglory were a preacher
It'd resemble a rustic pastor
Lost in how profound his grasp of scripture is
Therefore echoes more of his fervent faith
Than the Creator's boundless might.
If vainglory embodied a nation
It would mirror a union divided
52 pieces striving for cohesion
But only sowing seeds of discord
A world seen as a science Lab for experiments.
If vainglory wore human form
It'd take the guise of godlike leaders
a Trump, a Thatcher; perched on pedestals
Viewing the world as a puzzle to solve
Unaware that forcing fit leads to vanishing
When youth is so vibrant and sets us aglow,
and no words are mentioned through sorrow:
we are the seekers of wild adventures,
pushing hard beyond all boundaries!
In the prime of everything that sparkles joy,
we aren't afraid to explore the great unknown;
falling to earth and savor the complicity of sin
as the Fallen Angels did: we will pay too dearly!
A motivation to declare life and safeguard it:
is to cleanse ourselves of all wrongdoing,
of all vanity to pursue vainglory as the great ones did;
are there precious thoughts that gathers no dust?
We can find them in acts done by saints living or dead,
or in a hymn to love: whenever it's rejected as a vain thing!
When we witness those tragedies that make us cringe:
is it a punishment from cruel Nature or angry God?
Young lives are mainly lost to Fentanyl and syringe!
Should we go on, making believe each mind is sound?
"*Oui, the winner, American Beauty,"
yet hail these 'Windflowers' Anemones,
flourished yon 'Down Under', 'Aussiszlanders,
indeed a showstopper for bystanders
of all but Europe, Turks, then South due East.
Breed buttercup, yet, some toxic; no feast,
bold capped to stop at bowls use; bowels feared,
not ground hugger, but mid-road, four feet cleared.
Eye catchers, nose losers; scent attracts foes,
begs Ruth from deer, rabbits ... cuts Atropos,
relevant, floral events, vast numbers,
eyes lacking, vainglory lapping ... wonders.
Attract bees, butterflies, and egotism,
flowers have that novel effect on schism.
a broken phone in the muddy dirt
a neglected charger hanging on a badly worn clothesline
turned down for another loan
everything has been cut off or repossessed
now all my stuff is baking in the sun in a multilayered line on a very short curb
i am sitting in a raggedy chair wondering where to go with some type of next move
i am still also trying to find a new job after being laid off from the one i have been at for 21 years with no type of announcement or warning
i guess i should have cared more about caring
i guess i should have paid attention more to paying attention
i guess i was stuck in an imaginary waterfront version of vainglory
now here i am......humbled with nowhere to go and not a soul to call
with tears in my eyes and an ego painstakingly crushed, i blame myself
Cats-dogs fight - is a common sight,
Each thinks: fighting is their birthright;
As though each exhibits their might,
Or trust in the code: might is right;
Fight is canine story...
Dogs don't harm cats, in real fact,
They throw a sound that seems half-cracked;
Cats maintain their harsh hiss, intact,
In fact, both seem to seal a pact;
Canines have their glory...
Predator dogs feel merriment,
Fleshy cats, to experiment;
Dogs stare, for cats, is worriment,
In them, is hidden, dark cerement;
Doesn't it seem gory...?
Who is great, truly, who is small?
In the house, where they, often, loll;
This query when grows very tall,
The killer instinct, in them, crawl;
This story is hoary...
When it is not tittle-tattle,
When it comes to real battle;
When both, in annoyance, rattle;
Both turn stronger than tough cattle;
Story turns vainglory...
23 March 2022
First
show love,
in spite of
feelings. Express
consideration
for others, just
as Christ did
for us
first.
Let nothing be done through strife or vainglory; but in lowliness of mind let each esteem other better than themselves.
Phillipians 2:3 KJV
6/29/2021
Ninette Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Caren Krutsinger
Seductions of Sin
With the lusts of the world:
do I thee; threaten more?
Is this what the world has to offer;
since its originated defiance?
That set the scene for this world;
to attest and set afire,
for the rest of 'sin' to complete with such desire!
The call is strong in sin here:
am I too weak;
to resist such pleasurable temptations!?
Is it that, vainglory, do set in from the laws of God,
do I shame myself for the dishonor to self-control?
That 'sin' of the lusts now turns to otherworldly desires;
that the dark spirit brought to surmount humanity!?
Voracity, of man for the embellishing of the world,
is it glamorized in thy eye?
Being envious of what others do have;
only does it dispassionate me too?
And does, avidity, bring on our destruction;
from the wraths and vainglories of man?
I have a chance to survive when darkness has swallowed up;
the virtues that have been set out in front of humanity?
To battle, the end, when that day does it come;
is to bring great sorrows upon the world?
The skyscraper,
soar into the sky,
solemn ... erected
by human
imitation
God's...
Undaunted
The man
feels
infallible,
Mr
of the world...
The skyscraper,
falls from the sky,
like icon
of concrete,
fallen angel ...
Of its fall
the vain
human,
proud
still ... guilt
the simple
clipboard...
not his vainglory
and arrogance ...!
William Shakespeare: Carcass
The remnants of virtue used and earned,
eternal and the extent of such,
vainglory is measured thusly so,
so be it, a valued lesson learned.
Should beauty pleasure men so justly,
and fair maidens make their faces glow,
tempestuous journey lies before,
for the wise scorn and fools do wrongly.
Regard the advice that you must prize,
and live your life fulfilled evermore,
that you have no room to be concerned,
for you listened to, words of the wise.
Slight work claimed for natural appeal,
embellishment purpose to conceal,
as innocent charms often reveal,
carcass mention naught for the genteel.
2020 February 17
Lines to Awaken your Muse Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joseph May
5. The carcass of beauty spent and done - William Shakespeare
Rhyme Scheme;
abca, dced, feaf, hhhh
Howmanysyllables;
16 lines x 9 syllables per = 144 syllables total
The curse of public opinion,
feigned history of the truth
Generations of self interest,
freedom—time abused
(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2020)
When just a child the poet's mom said "Son
Throughout your life beware the sin of pride
Remember this when every day is done
What counts the most is who you are inside"
At first he thought his mother's words unfair
For recognition surely has its place
In time he witnessed prideful thoughts can flare
When undue adulation supplants grace
The poet took to heart his mother's words
Too many accolades can turn your head
Vainglory flits away on wings of birds
What's left is mostly emptiness and dread
Life immersed in modest exhibition
Satisfied with honorable mention
vainglory blossoms
as bud clusters make a show
— cold wind shakes them up
4/6/2018
Behold, behold the Onion king
His soul has a pungent fragrance
Unbidden tears his presence bring
He's the king of heartbreak romance
I caution you not to peel away the layers
of his life of vainglory conquests
An empty stench of not ever lasting,
a treasure trove of zirconian regrets
He loves to rule over the hearts of women,
become their all-their-is and is-to-be
He fancies himself quite the ladies man,
a man who revels in squashing empathy
If you had any personal problems,
he sure didn't want to hear 'em
If you had big relationship ideas,
he wasn't going out on no marriage limb
The only dreams he was going to make come true
were going to be his own
He wasn't looking to have someone sit next to him
on his ivory-jilted throne
Oh, the Onion king can make you cry
and, oh boy, make you cry again
Just don't try to grab hold of what's his
Now that really gets under his skin
Related Poems