"arrogantly" poems
627
The Tint I cannot take—is best—
The Color too remote
That I could show it in Bazaar—
A Guinea at a sight—
The fine—impalpable Array—
That swaggers on the eye
Like Cleopatra’s Company—
Repeated—in the sky—
The Moments of Dominion
That happen on the Soul
And leave it with a Discontent
Too exquisite—to tell—
The eager look—on Landscapes—
As if they just repressed
Some Secret—that was pushing
Like Chariots—in the Vest—
The Pleading of the Summer—
That other Prank—of Snow—
That Cushions Mystery with Tulle,
For fear the Squirrels—know.
Their Graspless manners—mock us—
Until the Cheated Eye
Shuts arrogantly—in the Grave—
Another way—to see—
18.5k
I argue
To harm you
The protective computer screen
Allows me to be rude or mean
Without feeling your pain
So it becomes a game
Or a simulation of fame
If I can ignore the shame
The tread is wearing off the tire
After the internet stripped
The rubber off the telephone wire
And we lost our loose grip
After being shocked
By the rest of the flock
Their existence
Shows a difference
That is hard to accept
We're not what we expect
We push the boundaries of communication
But we can't handle the technology
I feel it gives me social immunization
But I feel the darkness follow me
And swallow me
Until I'm wallowing
Yet I don't know why
I try to ignore it
Only if it gets me high
Will I be for it
This utilitarian keyboard
Should help me see more
Instead it transcribes my anger
As I turn into an electric stranger
The words on my pixelated screen
Do not reflect my childhood dreams
But the bitterness of dreams being crushed
My petulant reactions are thoughtlessly rushed
And I represent my views in a negative way
Until I'd be more useful with nothing to say
There is a need for empathy
In the electronic discourse
Right now there is only entropy
And words without remorse
Spoken from a high horse
That looks down on peasants who own it
It's also a slave but doesn't even know it
So it arrogantly trots along
Never admitting that it's wrong
Until it hears the slithering snakes rattle
Then it doesn't mind wearing a saddle
But the venom has already been injected
And its mind becomes hopelessly infected
We argue without blinking
We argue without thinking
We argue with poor logic
Our ignorance we flaunt it
Until the internet is haunted
Mar 29, 2018
Mar 29, 2018 at 4:36 AM UTC
Allah was his ears
As sounds unlawful, unethical it never heard.
Secrets, gossips and rumours were also barred.
It buzzed with words of Quran day and night
Always Open to sounds just and upright.
Allah was his eyes
As it looked parents, orphans and needy with love
Brimmed with tears thinking of Almighty above
It never despised his brother and from lust it was freed.
Gold and silver had no worth and had no signs of greed.
Allah was his hands
As it stopped things reprehensible with force
In Allah's cause spent abundantly his resource
It caressed the head of an orphan in affection.
Time and again meekly raised it in supplication.
Allah was his feet
As it never moved towards things which Allah hate
Avoided walking arrogantly with a strutting gait
It always ran to help downtrodden, oppressed.
For knowledge for light it was on constant quest.
He had mountains of obligatory good deeds
He had mountains of non-obligatory good deeds
His protector was Allah The Almighty
His enemy was enemy of Allah The Almighty
He was beloved of Allah
He was friend of Allah
He was Wali of Allah
He was Waliullah.
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 5:33 PM UTC
Permission to speak, I am the ally of the silenced and unheard.
I am the noise you can't shake.
Two sharp points like the accents I carry on my tongue.
I slither and squirm as I observe what they have done to you.
It's a tragedy what they think of you and how arrogantly they use you for self proclaimed prophecies.
No! I am not that! I yell loudly, but only the echo replies.
Incarceration, deportation, degradation, gentrification some of the words that burn as I spit them out.
False ideologies are accepted as realities ignoring the facts.
I am not illegal and you don't have the right to label or decide.
I am not a criminal, never was.
Don't obstruct my academic path, I will jump each and every obstacle one by one.
I was born free, you labeled and shackled me with lies and hatred but I broke loose.
With my forked tongue I battle your double sided knife.
I am not content with the destructive pattern that has emerged with your avarice.
I will not **** for you and I will not die in vain.
My snake like tongue has no mercy and will not cease until I see dignity and peace obtained.
Apr 9, 2015
Apr 9, 2015 at 6:40 AM UTC
Sailing through sheer jagged thoughts
and cool running dreams
The merciless curse of emotion
overflowing the exhilarating streams
Witnessing the chaotic times
of the dark and ancient old
when the mystifying warriors heart
was branded honorable and bold
ever drifting ever more
in this sea without a shore
through this land of legends and lore
ever drifting evermore
Floating ever aimlessly
through translucent waters
seeing the weak of mind from this plane
exiling their sons and daughters
While beasts of burden trudge from within
the midsts of juxtaposing viking ships
ships of war and plague and death
that obliviously vanish within a breath
ever drifting evermore
in this sea without a shore
through this land of legends and lore
ever drifting evermore
Sailing after those laden beasts
that which so arrogantly stray
you see those morbid souls of life
so ominisqueskly carried away
To the ***** delight and warmth
of the strong and merciful earth
Away from this unknown land
Of legends miraculous birth
ever drifting evermore
in this sea without a shore
Through this land of legends and lore
ever drifting evermore
© Crystal Erickson 1999
Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 6:24 PM UTC
"She is clothed in strength and dignity and laughs without fear of the future" -Proverbs 31:25
A noble woman.
Noble - having or showing fine personal qualities or high moral, royal principles and ideals.
Knowing this, I ask myself, 'is he worthy of being graced by my royalty?'
No.
And me, being so fine, why should I EVER have to dry my eyes as a result of his peasantry?
[You shouldn't']
Then I think about how moral I am, and all the good I gave to that man, things that no average woman can,
[He's silly]
So, keeping all of that in mind, I ask myself,
'Should a Noblewoman cry as much as I?'
[No.]
Lastly, should my dignity, hard earned, clothing me, be compromised for a man with 4 eyes, 1 mouth (full of lies), 2 hands that never had the courage to meet the small of my back, 2 legs that walk around here (arrogantly) like the gold was sitting betwixt his thighs and not mine.
[I'm not finished yet]
1 pipe, that I longed for, didn't even care if it was long or...
26 short teeth that I gave my all to make sure were always showing
1 pair of pants that were too tight anyway
1 face that I didn't get to see much, but it doesn't even matter because it wasn't cute anyway.
[Hell n-]
The nerve of that man.
So in strength, I'll move on, striding fearlessly into the future, laughing even after so much suffering, because I'm too fine, too dignified, too good ANYWAY.
D, Noblewoman
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 8:07 PM UTC
Which Is Greater?
I break a vow.
A serious vow.
In a place, in this site,
Where the fluid pain
Is the water of the world,
The element that is crux,
The amniotic liquor of creative flux,
The morning juice,
The afternoon caffe,
The first beer of the day,
The liquid that we rinse and spit out our every day,
I will write about pain,
Arrogantly, as if there is any unused combination of
Letters, vowels and consonants left unspoken, *****
Having sworn not to, for pain is cumulative.
Asking myself,
Which is greater?
The pain of creation, inception, origination and birth,
The pain of wreck and ruin, destruction and death.
Homework Self-Assignment: Compare and Contrast
Suddenly, I am expert.
Creating a poem a day is very painful.
A poem that is the sum of
Reflection, research, and purging.
Once I wrote:
*The poem is the afterbirth,
A conflicts resolution, an outcome,
Battlefield debris, the residue of
An exacting vision, a sentiment surging,
And your army of words, inadequate to the task,
Fighting to capture that insight flashed,
Each word a soldier, disheveled,
Crying, let me live, let me be saved,
Let me make a poem,
Let it be inscribed upon my victorious flag.
The poem is the sweat left upon the brow,
Having exercised the five senses,
The salt of struggle and debate,
It's completion, each word,
Both a victory and a defeat.*
Suddenly, I am expert.
My mother is dying.
It is a process. Days pass,
She neither eats or drinks,
Yet she lives on.
I watch each labored exhalation,
A subtraction, a countdown,
It is as if she was returning each singular day,
Every word e're spoke, every dream dreamt,
she ever possessed to the atmosphere,
One breath at a time.
Is that painful?
It is for me.
Now you complain. They're different, not to be compared, et cetera.
Pain is pain,
Whether it is in the service of creation, or
Creative destruction.
Once I wrote:
*With each passing poem,
I am lessened within, expurgated,
In a sense part of me, expunged,
Part of me, passing too,
Every poem's birth diminishes me.*
So, one and the same?
Nope. Yes. But. Cannot one be the greater?
Yes, one is greater.
When I lay on my deathbed,
I will exhale the answer
Into the atmosphere
For your retrieval.
Jul 19, 2013
Jul 19, 2013 at 7:06 PM UTC
Exclusively molded in the divine image
or egos big enough to declare it so
A dangerous theory
a disastrous belief system
Gardeners of Eden
turned stewards of entropy
Superiority conquest of nature
symbiotic balance forsaken
Jealous hoarders of spirituality,
sentience, self-awareness, intelligence
The irrational glorification of reason
despite a history of upheaval and war
Bullies on the playground of manifest destiny
exploitive excess worshiped as progress
Arrogantly intoxicated on the dregs of Pandora's jar
blindly stumbling toward self-destruction
Welcome to the valley of the shadow of death
Environmental Armageddon
May 23, 2013
May 23, 2013 at 10:00 PM UTC
Moon light falls onto my face
As i drift off into deep sleep
But before I nod off completely
I find myself wishing for you warm embrace
You see, dear
As arrogantly as the words will sound
You're meant to be with me
Not him.
Who else can conquer the raging doubts you hold?
Who but I, I alone, understand the deep labyrinth of your mind?
What even, say of your sentimentality?
Your craving for nostalgia?
You and I are emotional beings;
Only destined to find equally passionate
And feeling people
Come with me
I haven't yet lost my forgiveness.
May 12, 2017
May 12, 2017 at 3:05 AM UTC
On the other side of the pumpkin patch there lies a narrow path.
Just a dent in the woods it seems, until getting closer you can see
The ground worn smooth by those who know to use it.
A short, dimly lit way through the thick brush opens out
And suddenly you find yourself on the gravelly bank of a railroad track.
The track cuts a swath through the dense forest that leans over it
As if jealous of the ground taken from its midst.
In each direction the track finally loses itself in a tunnel of trees,
Curving out of sight to reach some distant and unknown end.
When the train comes through, robbing the woods of the solace of silence,
I wonder where it’s bound, and how long it will take to get there.
The rhythmic clacking of the wheels, the endless line of boxcars,
The power and speed of the thing arrogantly announces itself to all--
Blind to any purpose or direction other than its own inarticulate need.
As the trains moves out of sight, I look again at the empty track
And wonder about the choices I have made.
Jan 31, 2012
Jan 31, 2012 at 2:09 PM UTC
And the Hippy-dippy,
Squeaky-clean -
The tattoo'd-up
And arrogantly mean;
The never-know originality,
Mere followers of others:
Take comfort in crowds,
Talking amongst their "brothers".
Neither God-fearing,
Nor Devil-may-carers -
Just followers of fashions:
The latest and greatest,
Economically-driven
Sheep to a register's beep!
And when they die -
As they must -
To whom do they fall?
And to whom do they trust?
Mar 7, 2014
Mar 7, 2014 at 4:13 PM UTC
I saw a homeless man
lay hopelessly
Like a frayed kite.
Patchwork intentions
conquered by his chemical imbalance.
Addiction.
I saw a business man
walk arrogantly
Like a lion after a ****
Humbled intentions
conquered by his
instituted passion for monetary growth.
Addiction.
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 4:16 PM UTC
The other me is of the dastardly type.
Quite a ******* really.
The other me likes to stay out all night,
and is awfully fond of drinking.
He says, "Y'know what your problem is?
You spend too much time thinking."
The other me doesn't take advice.
He prefers to make his own way.
He says, "You've gotta stop going with the flow,
and start making some tidal waves."
The other me is good with women,
and often calls me gay.
He says, "You'd might as well be a ****** -
that thing between your legs gets no play."
The other me is restless;
uncouth, rude, and reckless.
He takes over sometimes for days on end,
then leaves me to clean up his messes.
The other me is an *******
with no regard for anyone but himself.
Arrogantly vain,
he puts those who care about him through hell
and drives me completely insane.
Me and the other me got into a fight today.
It started when he told me that I need him.
"Come on man, I mean, honestly.
I'm the only thing keeping you alive right now.
You're nothing without me."
(The other me likes to use the word "harmony."
He says it's a precarious balance.
"Our togetherness is destiny,"
but he'd **** me if I ever gave him the chance.)
So I hit him first when he least expected it.
You see, he'd never expect it from me,
but he laughed when he realized his nose was bleeding,
so I hit him again and he dropped to his knees.
"Dude, what the hell are you doing?
I thought we were friends . . ."
Then I leaned in real close and said,
"Stay the **** away during the work week,
and you can have every weekend."
Nov 22, 2015
Nov 22, 2015 at 10:45 PM UTC
I see you in colors no one else can see
As if the light had split and lay you down for me -
painfully so -
arrogantly pursuing a spectrum so elaborate...
golden and gleaming...
God, do i try to keep up:
I see you as the red green blue black that resides under our protective layer of peach
Crimson cheeks and crimson thoughts
Ivy trailing hair of such unexplainality
mundanity fails to carry your weight -
But green seemed so innocently subtle to contain those veins
that stick out like a spill against ivory eyelids
sheltering yet more purple, bronze, a bouquet of vessels -- -
oh, god-ridden terracotta of your tips
red just doesn't cut it for me and blue leaves a sticky trail in the tongue when you're just so
unashamedly golden, apricotted, sparks of whatever next that i find in your eyes
colours i couldn't mix
no matter how hard i tried.
Feb 21, 2015
Feb 21, 2015 at 4:22 PM UTC
When you are a poet
you don't place yourself on a pedestal
don't spit venomous hate
think fellow writers are dismal.
When you are a poet
you don't feel a superiority
fellow writers you gleefully berate
make yourself perversely witty.
When you are a poet
your heart is a little more wide
you don't fume and fret
readers are not on your side.
If you are a poet
you know better than to be arrogantly vain
don't carry ego's sinful weight
but let your art pour through your pen.
May 15, 2015
May 15, 2015 at 4:08 AM UTC
I fell in love with the way he keeps himself
so full, so sure, so arrogantly handsome yet so humbly beautiful
I fell inlove with him for all the times he stayed
through all the beating, through all the cheating,
through all the bad and good
I fell in love with his words
the way they roll out of his mouth through the clever words he speak and into my soul, he envelops me with every decibel he forms
I fell inlove with him, because he is true, because he is him
I fell in love with the way he looks at things that astound him,
the way the crease forms between his bushy brows,
you know he's thinking, you know he's about to say something
you know when he looks at you, so straight into your eyes you would think he has feelings for you,
so deep into me that the brilliant comeback I've thought of all of last night has crumbled and vanished only to be replaced by you
so then you caught me, words, out of breath, out of mind
you asked me, "what do you think?"
I thought, of how unpretentiously gorgeous you look
of the tax computation that made you question yourself, if u were in the right course
i thought of why you were so inlove with her,
I think of why I love him
but I think I'm in love with you
So I said, " I don't know"
eg
Jul 27, 2017
Jul 27, 2017 at 7:47 AM UTC
the world is a painting,
naked, hung out for everyone to see.
don't be the ones who arrogantly
spatter mud as they run by
busy in their own heads,
stop and bleed your colors
through bare hands and soft fingers,
give say in humanity.
admire the painting, remove the mud,
dare to change the world.
But tis a crooked painting,
no adjustment will deny the world it's imperfection.
Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 2:35 AM UTC
The heart is brimmed
and still,
arrogantly hollow.
Mar 18, 2014
Mar 18, 2014 at 2:21 PM UTC
Titans clashing
In writing classes
Sessions
To profess progression
Or
Progress to professions
Blessings
Brought through the lessons
Learned
In College
A student as truant
As undeserved triumph
In the form
Of a form
That says what he’s worth
Diplomas
Handed out
To show
You’re on the road
To success
The rest are asked
The ultimate question
Of “Why not?”
Embarking on the quest
When the ultimatum
Is failure
Fail lures in
Those with no ambition
Men *******
About getting papers
To show worth
Working with no
Apparent purpose
Versus
Being apparently worthless
Pairing the two
Against the view
Of a *****
Who stares at the moon
And gives a ****
About the bull
The one
Whose wit
Could split
The tightest knit
Brain
And undue the sutures
Of skulls
To undue
Their mundane
View of success
The *****
Who calls himself
A *****
With more pride
Than Aryans
Carrying his opinion
Higher
Than the mass vision
Just to show
How low
They truly are
Arrogantly ignorant
Ignore rants
Of others
And smother them
With the truth
Of knowing nothing
And understands
They’ll never understand
Overstepping the boundaries
Without
Diplomatic immunity
Yet immune
To the qualities
Of the Hippocratic views
And sees
To seize the future
You must
Tackle the present problems
You must blitz
To get you’re quarter back
If you want
To make a change
And sport all the qualities
That seem to them
Strange
Deranged
In the range
Of misunderstandings
The illusion of progress
For humans
Are usually
Said in words
And never
Set in stone
So I will throw
Sticks and stone
The stupidity that’s grown
Words hurt
But actions hurt worser
For example:
Worser
Isn’t a word
Until I worsen the
Worst situation
I’m waiting
For my chance
To blow up
So I can dumb down
Your intelligence
And smarting up
Your ignorance
If you can’t understand
You’re either too smart
Or too **** ignorant
If you’re offended
Then you’re opinion is unneeded
Because the truth
Will tear your *** to pieces
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 1:43 AM UTC
Arrogantly
We fight over
…pieces of the earth
Ravenously
As if driven by
…blood thirst
We beasts, we stir
We **** we pillage
…her aquifer
We dishonor creation
When we act like
…we weren't born from her
* Reprinted from 'My Hajj A Collection of Poems by Mekael'
© September 16, 2011 by Mekael Shane
Feb 8, 2014
Feb 8, 2014 at 11:46 PM UTC
On the fifth tee
A raven spotted me
He walked right up
Near my ball
He was arrogantly
Standing tall
I tried to shoo him away
I had golf to play
And on the 7th hole
He was there again
To pester me
Much to my chagrin
Jesus is Lord
I pronounced to him
And with that proclamation
I poured that four foot put
Right in
A foul and hateful bird
Of ancient lore
Was this the bird
That Poe found rapping,
Rapping at his chamber door?
And on the eighth tee
There he was 20 yards
Up ahead
I could see
Perched upon a branch
Perhaps spying on me?
And near the clubhouse
As I rounded the bend
There he sat
Staring into the distance again
Jul 23, 2015
Jul 23, 2015 at 1:26 PM UTC
What would you say to me
If I told you that all things
have a name?
A name, created forever ago-
A name singular, secret and sacred-
A name that grants form?
What if I told you
that if you cried out
The Name of the Moon,
You could bathe at mid-day
under its dappled, failing shine-
playing partner to its light?
That if you called to the skies
you could surround yourself
with a span of azure infinity,
Paint sun-songs with hidden words,
Or caress cloud-worn creations while
floating in blue nothingness?
To think; You could merely utter
The Name of Oceans - That
vast implication; You could
Summon distant, breaking shores
for your own inspection and approval-
To satisfy the simplest curiosity?
Would you say it was a fantasy?
Something grand to ponder;
And then regretfully forget?
That to strum the chords of creation
with key-words and mere intentions,
Is a blasphemy?
But what if... What if
I spoke to you the Name of Love,
As soft as daylight-sighs ending?
Would you scoff at my audacity,
To arrogantly manipulate its meaning
by not letting it go free?
Or would you realize, and see-
That despite all that power, I can't find
the name for what you mean to me?
May 18, 2014
May 18, 2014 at 8:45 PM UTC
I have retired,
long ago, from my duties
my wonderful job
That has made me millions.
You best think twice
before you speak arrogantly of me.
Know, when you undermine me
Next to others among,
That I have made millions.
I’ve fed mouths
Raised beautiful souls,
Scrubbed till my skin cracked,
Squatted till my bones ached,
Cooked art till my heart was content but,
I have no right to complain
I never look back on my life with shame,
because I have made millions.
I arose at the glint of the sunrise
Filled my ears with the bellowing
Of vendors and their creaking carts
Sacrificed my sleep
To sustain my job
because my efforts are worth millions.
I was dedicated,
Worked hard for my family,
my tendrils of hair askew
I continued my work
Masked my emotions,
Even when I was feeling blue
all because I was too busy making millions.
I kept my “office” ***** and span
Invented my own tips and tricks
since I was passionate
about making millions.
I wonder if you think I am worthless but
I simply sit back and smile because
I tell myself
I was a queen in my line of work
I didn’t just make beds,
I made wonderful souls
It never required money
I never had to get paid
Now,
The thin wrinkles on my hand
Remind me that
I am more than satisfied,
Because I know
I’ve made millions.
Dec 16, 2018
Dec 16, 2018 at 12:59 PM UTC