#conceit
A tide‑glass hour ends before the sand, but the sea keeps counting.
A ring compass points north yet circles my finger like a vow.
Even broken, a lantern shard keeps a fragment of the night inside.
North waits for no tide; it circles in gold.
A vow can light the way, even in shards.
The night ends before the sand, and the sea continues counting.
.
Sep 20, 2025
Sep 20, 2025 at 8:40 AM UTC
I wanna go, come
up with the ruse I could have --
invented myself.
Apr 17, 2025
Apr 17, 2025 at 4:03 AM UTC
We chose this discrete island.
Not cast away as rumoured.
It was space to think things
through that was needed.
In time we found ourselves,
found new skills and learnt
to play with fire and with smoke.
Those first signals, reciprocated
from the far horizon did it.
Like minds entwined above
uncaring water. We wanted more.
We wanted high towers so that
we could see ourselves across
the empty oceans, but towers fall
and dust blows out the flame.
Tony Noon
Feb 16, 2025
Feb 16, 2025 at 1:39 PM UTC
In high-tech sweatshirts
the joggers are running trails --
of expensive scents.
Dec 22, 2024
Dec 22, 2024 at 4:06 AM UTC
that i am willing
to sit through this
suffering discomfort
and awkwardness
repeatedly and
of my own volition
must be a testament
to something
i am just not clear
whether it should
be taken as a positive
or negative
it might show courage
could merely be folly
a sign of resilience perhaps
or remnants of my naivety
it could be inspirational
belief in oneself or
simply a case of conceit
let's be honest
it could be any of those
or it could be none
yet more than likely
i am overthinking
everything again
Dec 20, 2023
Dec 20, 2023 at 8:17 AM UTC
You've caught me in a strange mood,
with some energy,
but no food,
and I've got all these things I want to share
Please just try to hear me.
I'm skeptical, but dearly
long for the strength of her faith
like it's air
She once told me that my path
is guided by mishaps
that I commit every time
I want to sleep
"When you're craving some shut eye
but settle for some cheap wine
God laughs as
his tricks make you weep"
That's what she told me
and no philosophy holds me
like her words which shouldn't ring that true
How can she know that
God's a grinning Cheshire cat,
with endless wisdom
that's never really on cue?
I'm standing on the brink
of finding the link
where my mind and my body should meet,
And I inch ever closer
to the answer that I know
will not put any part of me at ease.
With his endless arrows
Cupid amuses his narrow
mind, He's having his
fun shooting blind.
Every bad romance
just gives him one more chance
to laugh when he forgets he can fly
Lost in her freedom
she knows she doesn't need him
she just tells herself "we're both being used"
And that is enough to repeat all the stuff
that got her feeling empty,
misplaced,
and confused
So I have fun in my way
with this old tragic play
that we convince ourselves has gotta be real...
Hiding from emptiness
I look to be tempted with
anything that has a nice feel..
My thoughts gather in whirlpools
in a sea of these new rules
and I wonder If I'll ever catch up.
Yet they flow ever quicker
when there's a reason to snicker
and I cannot deny they're
quite possibly corrupt.
And I know I'm just another one
Trying to have some fun
Thinking that my smoke belongs in the air
But I could easily forget this
and then there'd be no witness
to what seemed like
the Truth on a tear...
Sep 23, 2021
Sep 23, 2021 at 1:56 PM UTC
nothing embarrassing have I ever done
nothing stupid or silly under the sun
never my own horn did I toot
my perfection you can't dispute
I've out lived everybody who could tell anyone
Jan 27, 2021
Jan 27, 2021 at 1:25 PM UTC
There was no crosswalk here
yet crossed I nonetheless.
And with just mild fear,
I ran across the lane.
The light had took too long.
The button stayed depressed.
A street sign said 'twas wrong
to run across the lane.
But I cut across the street
and then I cut again.
knowing not where I'd be,
I ran across the lane.
Until the corners I had cut
all caught up with my feet,
and then at last I was resigned
to just walk down the street.
May 13, 2019
May 13, 2019 at 1:39 AM UTC
In a kingdom full of inclemencies my hubris does not fail me
Profuse and Fierce, Some may call me arrogant
'Hubris!' chuckled I, 'Yes Hubris!'
It's a recording of my failings.
'It's that amorality,' I muttered.
My hubris is my substratum towards my nescience.
It is that aspect that will lean me towards drowning in the sea of my own incoherent imbecility.
It's a deep program in my faulty code, a nightmare towards monks.
It's the ink on my arms, tattooed to my soul.
'Hubris!' chuckled I, 'Yes Hubris!'
It does not fail to show in my wording.
It's the ferry to sea, the net in the ocean.
It is limber as it is inventive, with every exception.
It has no ingenuousness, it is unlike modesty and threatens to surmount me.
It's a sandwich in which has caught every hitch of breath, it leaves me bewitched, no certain pitch that I can tell afore it chokes me.
It leaves no correspondence with those around me, too caught up in my own fantasies that I can no longer celebrate or verbalize felicitously.
Many times I wished that I preserved my receipt so that I could trade in my Hubris for something a little less mucusless for it is something akin to Judas, and I cannot utilize it for anything utilizable.
If I could somehow find a way that would lead me to a resilient recuperation. I would judge that to be more utilizable then this Hubris that encumbers me. No matter how many times I beat it down, it war's like a lion and a bunch of tourists on a safari.
If only this grotesque lion-like hubris was shot by the doter of a hubris poacher. Every generation would be gratified and they would find that it is much more facile to coerce without that unpleasant Hubris.
Of course, I suppose in a way hubris could be utilizable in some situations that required it. If I somehow found a way to trade my hubris for something like modestly and found that I missed my hubris quite dearly. I would laugh at my incoherent imbecility and perceive myself to be remotely mad!
These ravings of my hubris I'm quite sure because I found it so consequential to indite a poem of stark preposterousness. In a contingency like this, I suppose my hubris is getting quite polished, so sharply able to strike down any sense of modesty.
I conjecture this is the terminus of this arrangement, please omit my hubris for a moment. I suppose I should give you some tea afore I dose myself in a salubrious dose of radiation.
Apr 20, 2019
Apr 20, 2019 at 11:01 PM UTC
Putrid scent of rotting elm
A hollow vessel, none at helm
Floating, Drifting, Swaying yet
A smoke-filled room, a shallow bet
What more than logs can human be
With not a helmsman in his sea?
For what’s a ship without its crew
But dying wood and foamy slew?
Feb 21, 2019
Feb 21, 2019 at 2:13 AM UTC
I wonder if you're loving someone else.
Before I remember
that you're no good at loving,
unless it's for yourself.
May 29, 2018
May 29, 2018 at 1:39 AM UTC
oh such humility
is found here
not a cocky one
in the lot
no narcissism
or conceitedness
not a word about
**** so taut
not a one thinks
he's better
than any other
on the site
or in the world
for that matter
who thinks he's
always right
not one thinks
that he is
God's gift to
humankind
or that others
swoon for him
because he's so
very fine
at least most
don't write it
a bragging
load of poo
if you have to
write about it
it's certainly
not true!
May 25, 2018
May 25, 2018 at 12:18 PM UTC
Should I be affectionate,
Or something exceedingly delicate?
Rich in love to the peak where it sickens
Yet exploring to where the darkness deepens
Seemingly beautiful with a lustful pride
My substantial desire for you will grow in size.
Not for petty songs or pure white roses
My hand points to where the problem poses-
a threat to your silky, blushed thighs
Will you expose your most precious prize?
I shall not wait 'til my hair fades silver
Nor to when the sweet fruit becomes bitter
O, now let us rest on fine cotton sheets!
For our passion is boiling and I do beseech
Do not let thy chastity be devoured by worms
Or my sprouting heart will firm
Lady, let us be feral birds!
Pecking away at our fleshy love
Is thou haunted by my sweet pea curse?
Heaven shall judge this yearning verse.
Jun 16, 2017
Jun 16, 2017 at 7:43 AM UTC
Only on grounds of seniority
By default
You try to assume authority
But mind that
Though for a century
Under water comfortably sat,
Swim like a fish
A stone can't!
Nov 24, 2015
Nov 24, 2015 at 1:40 AM UTC
Does it hurt when you do this love?
A little, you've been out of touch for so long its like removing a pin.
Why do you hurt me my love?
I'm a sadist, you're a *********
That's not true though is it my love.
You hated hurting your girlfriend.
You hated hurting your mother.
I can see the pain well up in your eyes but you never shed a tear.
You're hurt too though aren't you.
I can feel you, bringing me to my knees.
I'm tired when hurt but you, your murderous.
I can feel you punching away at my chest, my stomach.
I love you so much, I need to stop them from hurting you!
Everyone knows one crazy person, who would have thought mine would be inside my head.
My love, please don't call yourself crazy. They just don't understand.
Who are you my love? Are you a saint or a sinner?
I'm nothing.
What do you feel love?
Nothing.
Why are you writing love?
So I can talk to you.
Set me free. Lets watch the world burn together.
I will **** myself before you get out.
What do you want other then ******
My love, you know the answer to this question.
I want you my love. I want to stare into those eyes and watch you wash the blood off our body.
I don't enjoy the sympathy I have for you psychopath.
You learn to appreciate it, like my pity for you my love.
How have we survived so long.
Because we want to my love.
Secretly you want to live, like me.
Why do you want to live?
My love stop playing coy, you know the answer to these questions what do you really want to tell me?
I want to **** you, you want to **** me.
We can't live without each other my love so you love me.
I think that's why your girlfriend is emotionally broken my love.
Over analytical much?
No, just pointing out the obvious my love.
Relationships are hard.
And you wonder why I want to end them all my love.
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 7:24 PM UTC
Glass on tiles is from broken dishes is from walking home.
Trying to find where you live is picking up jagged pieces is wrapping the **** from the contact of the sharp corner colliding with your skin.
Dropping the plates feels like 8 PM feels like asking you to pass the salt.
Broken mugs are glued together like an antique puzzle,
fragment by fragment found one under the table,
found one I stepped on it.
Almost reversed except for the lines running around it,
the memory and experience also regret.
It still works if you're in need of a mug but always drips a little from a crack the glue couldn't fill.
Bought some new dishes fixed the kitchen sink fixed the glass on the tiles.
Found new tiles found new reasons to break some new dishes.
Forgot to wrap the **** it'll heal anyway
forgot to ask to pass the salt the plates dropped themselves.
Feels like 8 PM feels like 9 feels like 10.
Put the broken dishes away buy some more glue later.
Oct 27, 2015
Oct 27, 2015 at 8:01 PM UTC
**He sat across the extent,
On the wide room floor**
*She just curled up on bed,
As if he didn’t exist*
**He wanted to speak,
But no words came out**
*Her eyes started to leak,
Although she didn’t dare wipe it up*
**He stood and walked to the door
With hesitance, he almost fell**
*She wanted to stop him
As she heard the **** turned*
**He waited for her,
To ask him to stop**
*But she didn’t
Her conceit was too high*
***Nobody spoke
He left
She wept***
If sorries were that easy to say
Then maybe, they both stayed
Jan 23, 2015
Jan 23, 2015 at 8:55 AM UTC
You're too loud for
your porcelain throat;
your rose blushed
china doll cheeks
crack each time you smile
-- just a little
That silk-smooth black
hair does nothing
to keep you warm in winter
but frames your face
in perpetually delicate contrast
Your words are hammers
Actions are sparks
as much a threat to yourself.
I'm not afraid of you, only
of when you come to life
and your expression never changes.
Jun 20, 2014
Jun 20, 2014 at 11:50 AM UTC