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Rachel Z Mar 2012
Braggers...
They do nothing,
But make people,
Feel bad,
Feel horrible,
Feel unsure of themselves,
And most importantly,
They ruin people's dreams,
Dreams of their future
So...
**STOP BRAGGING
Tristan Taylor Oct 2017
Beats playing
On the table
You ****** think I’m about to open my mouth
That’s just a fable
Please
I’m listening to how you rap about money
Hoes and/or ******
It does sound tempting
But have you no charisma?
Maybe not
We’re still in high school
It’s still the same beat
It’s all about how you gonna eat
Over and over again
I’m not a rapper
If I was
I would say, with no offense:

I’m not a rapper
You ****** are braggers
I’m a poet
And I know it
And your dreams are about to be shattered

I’m not a rapper
I’m not a trap star
If you saw me
You'd laugh, and say
“Who this *****, bruh?"
But it’s ok
A dude can dream, right?
Of the stage
And the admirers
And the flashing lights
I don’t have that
Deep down, I do
But too many remain untrue
Women, drugs, and money
That’s all they see
I Don’t have money
I Don’t do drugs
God knows I don’t have women
This **** ain’t free
Like Kendrick said
Word of advice
Don’t fit in, stand out instead
That was my mistake back then
Don’t try too hard
There are better days ahead
After all...
We just in high school
I’m sitting at the table
Beat still playing
If you still think I’m opening my mouth
That’s still a fable

I’m not a rapper
You ****** are braggers
I’m a poet
And I know it
And your dreams are about to be shattered
A bad rap about a poet sitting at a table in high school watching his friends rap.
Harmony Sapphire May 2016
The mother pearl.
Starved.
Marveled by it.
In the deep blue sea .
Sparkling precious gemstones.
In keyless entry without technology.
Treasures like feathers.
Marble statues you want to pursue.
He thought you knew.
Creepy janitor.
Endless corridors.
Vacant Lots.
Dark stairwell.
Late night patrol.
Criminals out of control.
Cereal for breakfast again in a bowl.
Foul people.
Full of regret.
With a stubborn mindset.
Don't fret.
You don't need a vet.
Let's make a bet.
You'll be in my debt.
You can try to disappear on a jet.
I'll catch you in my net.
You'll be my pet.
A mistake I won't let.
If you betray my trust.
I will do what I must.
You lost your wallet again?
All your money gone.
How sad.
That's bad.
Did you tell your dad?
I guess you really are bankrupt.
A life unfortunately got interrupt.
It's disturbing how I choose my wording.
Slime, mold, mildew.
Gross slosh.
Dreams of floating.
Lard thats bloating.
Braggers gloating.
Forget everything I said.
And all that you read.
Meaningless words that make no sense.
Confusing thoughts written.
I can't concentrate on reading what I wrote.
I blank out.
It's not in here.
Don't whisper in my ear.
The same things you said to her.
Nobody's jealous.
Relentless ranting
Annoying chanting.
You choked me on purpose.
Skipping thoughts.
Unreported crimes.
Shameful timing.
Pityless weeping.
Silent cries.
Raffie Maren Mar 2015
Little groups would start to form at the end of 6th Grade,
And the so-called new society we live in would be proven to exist.
One group, had the cool guys.
In my school, it would consist of the non-virgins,
Or at least the braggers, that would say they where non-virgins.
It was hard to tell if they where just trying to be cool, or telling the truth.
Truth wasn’t a common word for my generation though,
If something was the truth, it would usually be a lie.
If something was a lie, it would usually be the truth.
He said he had *** with a 32 year old, lie.
He said he didn't like a girl from 8th grade, truth.
2015
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2017
this is an "etymological" petition, there's no "proof"
involved... let us just say,
   why do i never, and never will
cite an english "philosopher":
frankly? because there aren't any!
i know there are worthy examples
that kindly lend their tongue
to idle ears...
         but the english,
being counterparts of the swabians -
i.e. the saxons: are sophisticated
braggers of esteems -
    they parade upon the notion
that they are best as gesticulation,
fathoming their superiority upon
a gimmick! they they are superior
because of their accent...
      yet fathom half the work and twice
the leisure in competing with
the greeks in diacritical approach...
they really gave swallowed the
red herring... they never could
   keep dialectical approach to their
already shakespearean approach
of being two-faced sheep-shaggers
while pushing them off a cliff...
that's why i can't redeem or even consider
the english a philosophical race,
poetic, yes, but their demand for replacing
the greeks as: the "philosophers"?
that's too much, it was enough that they
imitated the romans and left the latin
script edenic...
  but to fathom an imitation of the greeks?
now you're pushing it!
******* bellybuttons of the world,
it has no bearing with greenwich being
the ******* meridian!
             you've pushed it, far enough!
you can be the "philosophers", once
you acknowledge diacritical markings,
and eradicate dyslexia!
          why are the poles so fathomable
with their tongue? clear, syllable, indicators,
diacritics = punctuation marks within
punctuation marks... which probably
means an enigma for you,
  and that subsequent paraphrase.
and it's an irony, i must call it
   german ironism,
                 for a people for efficient in work,
they were the ones to produce the most
philosophers worth citing,
i guess: once you become too efficient
you have to craft a tier of gifted bums...
intellectualism for your spare time...
which the german philosophers are,
bums,
            intellectuals that can fill a room
with more furniture than a carpenter...
odiously its very much imaginative / cognitive
furniture, kinda likefeng shui,
but less so...
               which is strange, since the germans
ought to be the last people able to think...
hence german ironism is a paradox
having replaced idealism,
   and the yiddish zenith...
       i think that's where god resides -
      his curiosity made him non-existent
in the darkest hours of auschwitz -
    he was like: huh? how the **** did that happen?!
there's a new fragrance in the air,
  it's not some englishman with his head
in a ****,
    it germanic, pure and simple,
   and only if it was the anglo-swabians
and not the anglo-saxons...
       ******* porridge-pie for all i care...
sure, john stuart mills,
       adam smith (an economist in the end) -
but the english are not a nation of philosophers,
which is odd, since they ought to be,
with however pointless jobs they invented
after having exported the meaning of labour to china,
and are the genesis of marxism,
which was tested in mongolia...
            oh, you didn't know?
yeah, mongolia was the laboratory in vitro
groundwork for communism -
mongolia = in vitro communism
   the warsaw pact = in vivo communism...
what?
       yet the persistency of the question
that is greater than a question per se -
for a nation of such ardent workers,
such efficient workers,
   such effective monstrous combatants of
economic prowess,
  who, sane enough among them,
could ever provide a book of philosophy?
   that's what i mean about german idealism
being replaced by das groß ironie -
the english have no chance in being philosophers:
it has become too cinematic for these people,
too: what's "real"?
    i can't treat them without a whip -
they are too an obsolete a people to compete
with either germanic or, (that dreaded association)
with the fhhhhhhench...
             the fwench! the fwench!
because the english have not allowed
    faking work, to making certain work
obsolete, they simply made working
obsolete, and faking the most apparent form
of work! no wonder that communism
originated in england!
   once more, if you don't like my scolding
whip-of-a-tongue to be on your case:
        in hope you enjoy the next bomb-blast!
but, how, how could the most efficient people
on this planet, provide enough time to
guarantee a family tree of philosophers?
   how could these people end up so
unimaginative and bored, as to provide the world
a kant, or a hegel?
           cracks in the ceiling i see: load the ark!
- and i will never cite an englishman's thought,
for the simple reason that:
   it's too late to test the englishman's
pompousness as the global meridian bellybutton!
about as centre as my ***-crack is to my nasal cavity
in my ****** geography.
       i can't cite them...
         i'll take these peoples seriously once
they wave goodbye to their multiplex romana -
and start bereaving their europeanism
akin to the icelandic peoples...
                 there is not a single greek among
them, they can fake it with their greek-cypriots -
but that gets you as far as feta cheese
            a shy kofta kebab, or a moussaka.
hence das groß ironie - for a people for efficient,
so engrossed in celebrating manual labour,
der deutschevolk, to be the rightful inheritors of
the greek thought?
         staggering...
unfathomable, unimaginable,
              but as the statement suggest:
  probably the greatest irony in world history...
i almost think there was no divine
intervention because of the creative output,
akin to a beethoven et al.
   i still will not cite an english "philosopher",
for there aren't any!
               and if there are:
they're probably as boring as any atheist is,
   or as any naturalist can be...
plus: it's not nice to shower others with compliments,
as it's never proper
   to admire another person's pair of shoes...
why? because you wouldn't swap them for yours;
the best advice you can give?
   do not give any advice.
               what's the worst compliment you can give
(akin to a woman asking what you're thinking)?
      i like your shoes.

p.s. i've only just realised,
the germans have so so many forms
of the direct article that the english
doesn't, without only the...
but like the rule shared among the two
languages, the indirect article is
plagued by its cousin english -
eine kangaroo, ein aphrodisiac -
                           a cat, an ape.
KorbydAngyle May 2021
What's that the wife's a waif waiting to jump...
A Letcher bloke divinatory, soars immersed.. for
surely not a bridge,
though the bridge, as originally makes
the best of life, finding arrangements in everyday folk

Better start off through the aerie, thoughts of angels, decisions lazy,
mirroring wit, refined is one's lady

We shall freely end, be at all variations that lead to yes
And the English, they'd say "a bird and a man...in pitiful alliance?"
Then rebel pitiful braggers and let the blessed now reticent prevalence
lead to the holy place that all useless Messiah's go,
Golden rings, imperial arts, fleets of fighters, there they eventually go

... Or shall we prevent the turning of the battalions the lilies of tigers turn to rot
Destroying the last of every pestilent fool and join now the man and girl
to sovereignty for the rightful expect not...

...Owners of pain that endure... such titles, askew ensuring criers, cry
to the horror or the faith and hopes bountiful

All beings amidst their struggles did find a bridge to cross
then found it better that together we jump and therein
what was Valhalla all of us nailed to the cross
and with serenity the what was our mutual loss
now is a governance of the pall, a regret, and the loss
that still can render exclaim truth
we shall all be elated

Human condition
I think this works...
Delton Peele Aug 2020
Earlier seeking somewhere
I could breath
in secret
An opportunity presented itself
and
Covering my tracks and slipping
Through the cracks.............    
............
stealthily .............
took my leave
Sure footidly i ran and scampered
The whole while feeling  a silly anxious childlike urgency like a
Toddler running from daddy
Cause i know he's gonnnnnnnna
TICKLE  ....MEEEEEEE....
Now no time for tomfoolery
This is dead friends peak
As i slowyly lay back on the bare rock its a little
Unnerving
The jutting stone cradles you so perfectly yet
Youre legs dangle 4500 feet above town
Its so far down you cant see it but theres
a coin operated telescope
Where
bets and braggers pay when they finally get
Here all they can say is nope
Needless to say im the only one
That ive ever seen sit here
Just some rocks and a huge fern
A perfect secluded solitude
A wam breeze bringing the smell  
Of sunday food
I lean ever so slightly
To view the carnival lights below me
And i slide .  .        .           .
Fortunately my palms sweaty it stops me
Although slapping the rock that hard
I swear it moved
And my heart murmured
I was a little concerned it wouldn't
Start back up again
I swallowed and took a breath
Both actually hurt.
I closed my eyes and re-positioned
I could smell dirt
Collected my nerves ,
Relax i said
Youre even more alive
Now
But lets never do that again!
Smiling on the outside !

Opening my eyes some how everything looked color enhanced and
Extra wonderfull
Watching the cumulus slowly churn
Above me
Like smouldering smoke
Took me to a better time for a short while
I felt free
I sat peacefully for a bit
In a sorta happy state of quandry
As the shapes in flux ever changing
The thought never occurred to me
It ..............
Was assuming disguises in effort to stall me
Although hinging on the menacing side
Being so far from me somehow seemed charming
A needed respite from the mundane
Now the nimbus turning charcoal grey
On this Melancholy Sunday  afternoon
As the autumn shy line consumes
Precious daylight
a dreary darkness
Like an empty heaviness a low
Pressure depression moves in
And overshadowed me
Within me i feel it
The impending doom
Looming above
has touched down
Groping blindly
Lurking around trying to find me
Gripped in fear and although slow
Im moving
Barely
a chilling breeze berefts the leaves from the trees
There icy rustling
Sounds like wind chimes made from bones
Strips me to my soul
Im all but naked and alone
The winds so cold
Pushing past as i exhale
Even the air i breath frozen in fear
From the ghastly thing behind
Looks like a spectere before me

And now im paralized i hear the funeral knell
Ringing for me
the same wind that hit my back now burns my face.
And i know now my time has come
It can smell me
Metaphorically im spinning a caccoon
And in it
Ruminanting within gloomy memories
Impatiently im waiting for in a short while even my soul will leave me
Why would it not everything that
Hasnt been taken has got up and left me
At this point i would be amazed if it didnt
...
......what im trying to say is this
Take my words exactly as they have been contemplated,
And weighted like stone chosen precisely , arranged ,braided ,
And conveyed in syntax and perfect timing
So when i say time apart from you is hard for me
I know youve only been gone a couple hours shopping
Look at me the house is a mess and im a wreck
Do you see what i mean
I couldnt find the vaccum so i thought id eat
Tried to make a sandwich  all the knifes are *****  left it started cleaning the room
Thought i heard my phone ring .maybey it was you .couldnt find that either then. I found the vacuum thought it wasnt working took it apart ....lost one of those little important pieces down the toilet ....... .......dont ask.... ..please       ......and then ....realized it wasnt pluged in.    ....
And thats when the toilet got broke......and coincidentaly
Where all the wated came from.i forgot that i lost the phone .then i wanted to know if you would pick up some.....  . .... . .  .  ........... .... ...... ......
........



....... .... ....  ...  ...

— The End —