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#brag
I may look like a cheerleader - but I really am a cheetah and after they pass those tests out - I’m going to beat ya. I heard a student say, in the cafeteria near where I sat “They really don’t expect us to read all of that.” and I chuckled to see the many headshakes of agreement. Don’t these people know that this is really an arena? I was accepted to Yale before I finished ninth grade and now I’m surrounded by these “A” types who think they have it made - until I eviscerate them with curve-crushing grades. Learning is a passion, an exhilaration and release. The last place on earth, that you ever want to be is sitting in a classroom, competing against me. “How’d the test go?” He asks. “Oh,” I shrug and say, “I think I did ok.” Let me translate that for you, “I made a feekin’ A.”
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Jan 8, 2022
Jan 8, 2022 at 9:04 AM UTC
feadanting time
~for Wyett Yocum~ *nowadays, we slice and dice ourselves by gender, race, and any thin wafer division by which the human persona can be identified, as if we were tattooing our ****** identity on the wrist of your societal recognition scales all in order to say,  Hey! this is who I am, this! is why I am special unique, very very deserving of your accoladed admiration so the newly acquired phrase, there is no brag in that boy leaps and bounds, coming to rest on my wide eyes white, now part of my lexicon, there, where my vocabulary stored, for its very contradictory contrariness demands the realized anti-hero, the natural quietude of the aw shucks, that we used to value, people, above all nearing the end of my days, my vast knowledge of words and people grows smaller by leaps and bounds, for finer refinement and focus, vastly diminishes and distinguishes but a handful of verbal grains, seeds, a few is all that’s needed, kernels, that when deep planted, well watered, a gift nurtured by nature’s simplest greater gifts regifted us human exmplars there is kind. there is honor. there is selflessness, character, service and a very, very few more. some new, just today, recently obtained, the very title of this late night reflection! a fine spun summary depiction of modesty, a trait so rare, it’s existence now under appreciated, and so very hot-not, au courant, fashionable, woks or lit, hardly deemed valuable in the me-matters age so crumple up this minor essay, store and stick it among your mementos, and other keepsakes, let it not be seen, avoid confusing the young man of whom it was spoken and herein recorded, but this prize! this poem! this award without proclamation or gold statuette or degree, will, a secret well kept, by those who raised him, recognizing, that their own mirrored imaged is quietly well reflected, his inherited invaluable, distinguished modesty, product of his pedigree* Nov. 10, 2029 12:44am
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Nov 10, 2019
Nov 10, 2019 at 1:02 AM UTC
there is no brag in that boy
~for Wyett Yocum~ *nowadays, we slice and dice ourselves by gender, race, and any thin wafer division by which the human persona can be identified, as if we were tattooing our ****** identity on the wrist of your societal recognition scales all in order to say,  Hey! this is who I am, this! is why I am special unique, very very deserving of your accoladed admiration so the newly acquired phrase, there is no brag in that boy leaps and bounds, coming to rest on my wide eyes white, now part of my lexicon, there, where my vocabulary stored, for its very contradictory contrariness demands the realized anti-hero, the natural quietude of the aw shucks, that we used to value, people, above all nearing the end of my days, my vast knowledge of words and people grows smaller by leaps and bounds, for finer refinement and focus, vastly diminishes and distinguishes but a handful of verbal grains, seeds, a few is all that’s needed, kernels, that when deep planted, well watered, a gift nurtured by nature’s simplest greater gifts regifted us human exmplars there is kind. there is honor. there is selflessness, character, service and a very, very few more. some new, just today, recently obtained, the very title of this late night reflection! a fine spun summary depiction of modesty, a trait so rare, it’s existence now under appreciated, and so very hot-not, au courant, fashionable, woks or lit, hardly deemed valuable in the me-matters age so crumple up this minor essay, store and stick it among your mementos, and other keepsakes, let it not be seen, avoid confusing the young man of whom it was spoken and herein recorded, but this prize! this poem! this award without proclamation or gold statuette or degree, will, a secret well kept, by those who raised him, recognizing, that their own mirrored imaged is quietly well reflected, his inherited invaluable, distinguished modesty, product of his pedigree* Nov. 10, 2029 12:44am
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49
We wanted to be bulletproof MC's with M-16's and enough money to buy our freedom from the very same blocks we bragged about in our verses We weren't hypocrites, we were just literate in the language of loss We weren't rich, but we knew some people were and that they seemed to laugh a lot more often. I don't laugh all that often anymore.. I'm not sure when we forgot that we were giants
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Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 1:36 PM UTC
Bulletproof
what thief has come to me that his bowels be loose who are you to steal much that it may. be as more what have we given my looks to me wagons burn neck snap burning ropes hang an man death assumptions hang with me here in the stars instead oh we read how they mock my how sloppy ? ... .. .
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Feb 21, 2018
Feb 21, 2018 at 7:52 PM UTC
how sloppy
It's the return of the gangsta, thanks ta Them bustas that thinkin' they real trouble Them ******* that tellin' me I'm but a bubble I'm the real **** ************ don't point at me I'm everything you and your buddies wanted to be It's the return of the real G, ***** ***** I could straight up ****** you without the beat I'm nothing like any of you think, I'm the danger All you be seeing in my is just some ******* stranger Lemme acquaint you with the las thing you'll see before you fall ************* thinking they're cool They be thinking I'm a ******* busta All they be seeing is I ain't a hustla I ain't nothing but doom to you, lil ***** I ain't the one who be seeing the dirt in the ditch I ain't Brown or André, I ain't no name in this ***** But it's still the return of the gangsta Out here to kick yo *** back to when you had a masta' It ain't happenin' again, ain't nothan' No bebop **** no big hood thangs Just realize you outta line Cause you ain't got a fuckin' dime Bite my dolla', *****
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Nov 25, 2017
Nov 25, 2017 at 3:14 PM UTC
The Third Returns
she swishes her gossiping brag like the reddest red flag our confidences cannot be entrusted to her ear she has a propensity to broadcast them clarion clear she'll cajole you with her amiable speak then by not checking the tongue all will leak impart no details keep them safe unto self as the idle talker respects not even herself
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Oct 14, 2017
Oct 14, 2017 at 7:45 AM UTC
Gossiping Brag
Where no one can disdain Where no one feel be scorned Where no one try to brag Where no one feel helpless Where no one try to fight Where no one try to get rid of Where no need of a barren land Where no need of desert insight Where no need of any shyness Where we would ready to hear the truth And take it as a tweet of bird Where flowers’ beauty and fragrance Can lessen pangs and sorrows of This cruel cunning ugly world And we would start to dance in breeze With the jocund company of You When a tiny, an innocent Shining and transparent dew drop That cannot miss a chance in hurry To make a snap impatiently Be a witness! Bless us O’ Lord! Bless us a chance O’ my Lord!
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Jul 12, 2017
Jul 12, 2017 at 9:04 PM UTC
JOCUND COMPANY
Oh yeah, the other day I went to that 5-star hotel and got a breakfast by Bobby Flay. Never heard of him, but the food was pretty good. Afterwards I went to the gym and lifted some 100lb weights. Oh and yesterday I got a 100% on my quantum physics test. All in all, my week was NO BIG DEAL.
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May 17, 2014
May 17, 2014 at 4:42 PM UTC
Humble Brag