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Justyn Huang Dec 2018
When I can't tell if
My underwear is
clean or not,
I sniff it. But
regardless
of the smell
I still wear
it anyways
since my
*** always
be so
Fine.
Just a joke-ish kinda thing - there are so many serious poems out there lmaooo.
Purcy Flaherty Feb 2018
I’ll be sitting on the fence;
until the cows come home,
You can steal my thunder,
and you can break my bones.
Blood is thicker than water
and you’re the apple of my eye,
you may steal my thunder,
but you're a blessing in disguise,
Because honey!
You're just so easy on the eye,
It’s true I’m shallow;
but you're so easy on the eye.
I like the way you walk,
I like the way you talk,
I like the way you move,
I like the way you groove,
I like the way you scream,
I like the way you shout,
I like the way you spit, (Swollow)
I like the way you pout!
Because honey
You're just so easy on the eye,
It's trues you're a monster;
but you're so easy on the eye!
conceited, self image,  narcissistic
Rizna M Rameez Jul 2018
She laughs
That I'm being insecure
About being conceited
A paradox if anything
27.07.2018
It's a real life instance based on a poem that I haven't yet published because well, I'm insecure that it'll seem conceited
self importance he did relish
therein lay a swollen ego
was inflated of embellish
all this being held as a cargo

therein lay a swollen ego
so monumental the extent
all this being held as a cargo
of the largest conceited tent

so monumental the extent
it could not be denied at all
of the largest conceited tent
he finding joy in his own thrall

it could not be denied at all
ever putting one's self up first
he finding joy in his own thrall
was no shown quelling of the thirst

ever putting one's self up first
all this being held as a cargo
was no shown quelling of the thirst
therein lay a swollen ego
on
seeing
his
resplendent
image
in
the
reflective
glass
that
did
start
a
lifelong
romance
every
minute
of
every
day
he'd
take
an
idolizing
look
at
himself
in
the
mirror's
venerating
window
he's
not
vain
not
half
he's
right
into
self-love
kissing
himself
until
the
glass
fogs
up
who's
that
lovely
fellow
with
the
conceited
appearance
as
he
throws
his
adoring
arms
rapturously
around
himself
df Dec 2017
the world may be your oyster,
...
but keep in mind that some of us are allergic to shellfish.

{d.f. | 12/07/17}
Ngamau Boniface Nov 2017
Little standing duck whose weight wobbles her feet,
Simple sallow duck sways in shallow water,
Unconcerned.
Dips beak in silt for grit and looks up,
So much gratitude for a little, a grain.

The known, the too well known is sneered,
A little vanity in understanding the latent perhaps?
To keep hid secret humour, whose hue only remains seen?
Reddened cheeks and jutting veins,
Or just leave it all unsaid, maybe.

Duck does not tuck it in.
Dredge she will for the least and lift it too.
Sinister chuckles she cackles at, what insolence!
Yet the vulnerability is unearthed any way.
Against the sun's glare little lingers,
Of the conceited ingenuity.
But why is being figured out such a scare?
There's some good in the simple too. Being cryptic, mysterious is great!
Eleni Jul 2017
Blow on me, northerly breeze
Dry my watery eyelids
From the tears that drop
Like the Arabian trees
Cry their medicinal gum.

Oh, summer aroma
That does justice to break my defiance against this heat.
Heated affair, may you incinerate in the Sahara,
And chill to death as the night approaches in that
barren landscape.

But here I lie
Bored, invisible in the haughty summer
And behind those darkened forests
Begins a steady haunted drummer.
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