#egoist
I don’t want to play in your yard
I don’t want you to play in mine.
I know this is going to make you angry
For me that will work out just fine.
You don’t know how to play with others
And don’t know how to have any fun.
If ever there was a big doody brain
Look in a mirror because you are one.
If we don’t play the game so you win
You want to pout and whine to us all.
Too many times you have thrown big tantrums
And when you left you tried to take the ball.
Or you threw it so far away we had to run
To get it and bring it back to the game.
Every time we tried to give you a chance
Everything turned out exactly the same.
You don’t know how to play with others
And don’t know how to have any fun.
If ever there was a big doody brain
Look in a mirror because you are one.
We all believe your parents are the reason
You can’t handle the way life really is.
You’re fine as long as you are winning
You crow and brag you’re an amazing ****
That’s not what happens in the real world;
Things do not always go your way.
So, now you have to deal with the facts.
None of us care to ask you to play.
I don’t want to play in your yard
I don’t want you to play in mine.
I know this is going to make you angry
For me that will work out fine.
Aug 27, 2017
Aug 27, 2017 at 2:52 PM UTC
Almost all my most popular poems
Are the ones kicking Trump’s fat ***
I know after November sixth for sure
This particular issue will lose gas.
While that will slow me down for sure,
It won’t make me loathe him less.
He’s a charlatan, a liar and a ****
In almost every way a total mess.
Donnie, Donnie
You are such a creep!
Only fools would elect you;
Good people would lose sleep.
It simply doesn’t make sense
They don’t know what they’re doing.
A Trump-like presidency
Would bring this world to ruin.
So I will have to maunder around a bit
To find a juicier source of poetic satire
Than the Big Cheetoh has often been.
He’d open his mouth and spew hellfire.
He frothed and threatened and whined,
And for the most part the scorching
Ended up being his own big ****
And never was an *** more deserving.
Donnie, Donnie
You are such a creep!
Only fools would elect you;
Good people would lose sleep.
It simply doesn’t make sense
They don’t know what they’re doing.
A Trump-like presidency
Would bring this world to ruin.
He’s arrogant and babbles lies
One of the nastiest people ever seen.
He only seems to make sure his face
Shows in photographs in magazines.
He has little understanding of the job
He thinks he wants to be chosen for.
He expects everyone to bow and scrape,
To compliment, effuse and to adore.
Donnie, Donnie
You are such a creep!
Only fools would elect you;
Good people would lose sleep.
It simply doesn’t make sense
They don’t know what they’re doing.
A Trump-like presidency
Would bring this world to ruin.
Oct 27, 2016
Oct 27, 2016 at 6:04 PM UTC
He lives in a world
Of never and always
Even though there is
No such land.
You could explain
All the facts to him
But he would fail to
Grasp them or understand.
It’s all about opinion
And how he feels
And the way he thinks
About what he sees.
Nothing fazes him
Nothing teaches him
And no hint of reality
Brings him to his knees.
He only cares about
What he wants to have
Or what he wants
To make you believe.
He doesn’t love anyone
He hates almost everyone
He only gets upset
But he never grieves.
He looks into the mirror
And only sees himself
Because in his universe
There is nobody else.
You are just something
That is here to be used.
If he badly wants to do it
He is allowed to abuse.
After all, sun and moon
Revolve, rise and set on him.
In his solar system one star shines
Everything else is very dim.
Since he is rich, and can afford it
He keeps paid companions close.
He can stand free thinkers
Only by the miniature dose.
Oct 12, 2016
Oct 12, 2016 at 9:16 PM UTC
I wanted so much to like you;
I had heard so much about you.
Your show sounded like fun
Sadly, too soon I had begun
To listen between the lines
To know you, see who you are
To know behind the shallow mask
To see the ugly stained star.
I forgive myself for a bit of it
Because I know that it was
The method you always use.
I would later guess the cause.
Perhaps myself and others
The countless clueless mass
Mistook the rich and famous
As people with any real class.
I had to see the gaudy penthouse
With gold used instead of chrome.
I needed to see the fake opulence
That you chose to be your home.
I saw you hobnob with famous
And calling them your friends
Soon I would be let to see
The photo was where it ends.
So, I packed away any care for you
And chalked it up to my youth.
Little did I know right then
I only guessed at half the truth.
Because you put your skanky ****
Into the presidential race
And this latest **** of your ego
Means I never stop seeing your face.
Running for the highest office
The leader of the free world
Sure seems to have given
Your screwy hair a different twirl.
Suddenly you dragged out speeches
Of Hiter, Mussolini and Stalin.
You shouted the policies of the KKK
And thew your vitriol all in.
Since too many fools in America
Started chanting Trump, Trump
You seem to want to turn DC
Into something like the town dump.
As for me, I have trouble sleeping
Worried your fans might be letting
And idiot in charge of the nukes
So he can bring on Armageddon.
Sep 6, 2016
Sep 6, 2016 at 4:01 AM UTC
When too full of self
When too hasty to bring
All attention to self
No limit to singing
Of glories of self
To the self-serving egoist
Ego dwells in all
Serves a purpose over time
Ego screams and hollers
Like one stuck in slime,
When it is time to let go
Go it must for the good of all
Just thank and let it go
Promise it is for the best
That the ego that lets go
Finds peace to reside within
All tamed and mature
To tell many a story
To the future progeny
When too full of self
When too hasty to bring
All attention to self
No limit to singing
Of glories of self
To the self-serving egoist
Nov 13, 2015
Nov 13, 2015 at 8:55 PM UTC
*Spam is like ego
Fragile, vain, hurtful to host
Flames turning to ash*
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 10:39 PM UTC
Cadaver wants fame,
Posts— poetasteries . . .
. . . Never sees it's lame.
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 11:57 PM UTC
Gnat is mucky king!
Little lord thinks he matters,
. . . Buzzing above *****
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 11:43 PM UTC
Egotist, the master of the ego mist
or some ego antagonist
he is so much there
in the center of a web
of regurgitated fears
recycling pointless
the old cycles of
night after day
life after chaos
but no death
after ego inflation
just a rusty song
of imprisoned moments
or undeciphered gnashing
all character is just the dust
you cannot grasp
grey ruminations
curses wiggling
in times devoid of innocence
the cruelty of a ****
refusing to wither
at the end of his cigarettes
a speck of self
is threading a stratagem
to severe the ties
for the ******* of distance
so that he can continue
uninterrupted
to mutilate his heart
no one can persuade the night
into whitening
like you clean your teeth
of curses
the rest is sadness
the dew would know it.
Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 6:51 PM UTC
The bourgeoisie?
I loath them,
and I hope they buy my poems!
The critics?
They know nothing,
and I hope they hail my poems!
The intellectuals?
Dumber than pigeons,
and I hope they canonize my poems!
Unabashedly,
I'm not afraid to admit it:
I write for fame and riches,
and nothing really more.
Yes, yes, make no secret of it,
I wish only to shock you,
arouse and repulse you,
****** you,
with mindless,
gore-splattering violence,
and heart-throbbing ***
along on every page.
****** and ***** gore, and blood,
how else are my sales to flood?
It's art for arts' sake,
or something to the effect of that,
whatever makes me edgy,
socially relevant,
to scholars postmodern,
housewives bored,
and teenagers yearning,
to read ***** words.
So keep it then in mind,
my lovely readers you,
I very much like infamy,
and piles of money too;
be sure to buy my books,
praise me,
“Fresh and new!”
So that I may hire cooks,
to save time writing verse,
the very verses you adore,
lambasting the very rich and poor.
Rampant materialism,
spiritual decay,
what else do you
*******
want me to say?
A saint of the lowly,
the offbeat too,
voicing the obscure,
and the unheard and the
blah, blah, blah,
whatever it is,
I really don't care
quite honestly,
bluntly,
I'm being true,
I write for the fame
and the riches,
not you!
Mar 30, 2014
Mar 30, 2014 at 10:23 PM UTC