"cocky" poems
A steady cadence
pulsing in a heart beat
like rhythm, voices
and strummed instruments
all in harmonized concert,
An orchestral multitude,
of frogs and crickets,
never tiring or ceasing,
How many must there be,
to render such a cacophony?
Sustained and loud enough
to keep city folk wide awake.
Nature's Music of the night,
should you but choose to listen.
How do they do that, all night
with absolutely no intermission?
A crescendo finale triggered
only by the coming dawn's
first light, and the boastful
crowing calls of our cocky
persistent red rooster chicken.
Where these musicians go in
daylight is anybody's guess.
To sleep I suspect, deserved
resting up for yet another
night of endless music.
Aug 10, 2018
Aug 10, 2018 at 4:45 AM UTC
Big **** The Head ********
was the head of all the ********* in the ******** Shed.
What made Big **** so skilled and keen
at dickheadedness was to be seen.
Big **** had a certain ******* flair,
for tugging at everyone's short and curly hair.
He never had an important specialty,
except for being a type-A personality.
His skills were near to nothing great.
He kinda looked like a backward ape,
with a necktie 20 years gone out of style,
and his middle-management bullshitty wiles;
"I'm better than any ******** here!"
He'd proclaim everyday with a prickish sneer.
So they put him on his own cocky shelf,
where he could reign all by himself,
and every ******** ***** or asshole-wanna-be,
would come to the ******** Shed just to see,
what they could achieve if they'd observe instead,
the ways and means of Big **** The Head ********
___________
Dedicated to every single uptight, middle-management, pain in the ****
you have ever had to work with or for.
Aug 8, 2010
Aug 8, 2010 at 1:07 PM UTC
[Chorus:]
I make ******* insecure
Ah, I make ******* insecure
I make bitches's insecure
It not my fault that I rock you ****** world [x2]
[Verse 1]
Hold up let me catch my breath
Why you hoes jockin on me here gettin bread
Pockets stay fat like I just won the menu
Couldn't catch it open if I had no [?] click
He neva met a ***** like me
And he knew he couldn't have me
So he told his ***** to get like me
Miss pinky I'm rockin ****** world
Call me bird cause I can **** on any nighaa and his girl
Yea I'm cocky and ***** I got a reason
Name one chick set trends all season
Stay on my grind, cause you know yo girl the ****
And I'm not like cream, but I can get yo nigha wet
Everywhere I go I'm the center of attention,
****** tryna show off and get my attention
Did I mention
They call me miss distraction,
Cause I can split a ***** from his ***** like a fraction
[Chorus]
[verse 2]
Throw me my mic, no need for an intro
Falen don't act like you don't know
I mess it up stay jerkin, everyone must stare
My steeze so hot it can straighten your hair
Comin through like a raven,
My jerkin videos, stay on dudes pages
I'm that bomb nigha I'm nuclear
Don't call me
I'm like solar we stand out yea
***** we bright, skinny jeans
Yea ***** we tight yup yup that's right
So complex have the crowd restless
While I'm yellin out we the baddest (we the baddest)
No love honey
Slap ****** and take they money
I'm money hungry
**** so lovely
Flirt so EFF, ingggg DOPE .! !
[Chorus]
[Verse 3]
***** *** ******* wanna talk ****
Cause I'm that *****
And don't call me a bad *****
Call me a average *****
I'm badder
I more than
You hoes be lacking
It's like I'm the teacher when I be rappin
My flow so sick, when I'm done they start clappin
I put a bullet through your chest
***** they up on me tryna **** with it
Tryna get up in my ******* like I'm some kinda hoochie
Don't **** a ***** ***** cause they all boogie boogie
Yea and I'm 2 fly To **** with you
No I'm 3 fly everbody know me know
Yea an I'm so fly they be on me, on me.
[Chorus]
[Verse 4]
Money money money
Thats all I wrote
I stay on top
Your the water I'm the boat
Alway a **** and never a ***
I stay with mo plus ****** plus dough
Young in the game but I ain't a little girl
It jus take ten nigaas to rock my world
Rock rock my world, yea rock my world
So, I want you you you plus you
Plus the boy back there lookin cute in the blue
(You kinda cute)
People hate me cause they can't do what I do
Mean muggin I laugh at you
I took you man then stole yo boo
Blah blah it's true
Heart so cold like a freakin igloo
Got all these nighas like boo hoo
And on these tracks I go cookoo
Nov 22, 2013
Nov 22, 2013 at 1:16 PM UTC
He dreamed he was loved.
A love guarded fiercely, with passion.
A love that was not unconditional.
Not the blank slate love of a child
or an animal so programmed by instinct.
This love was willful and earned.
Having glimpsed an injured brilliance
beneath the flab and sweat and stench she weaned it to health.
Making it stronger, and brighter,
and more prominent with each passing day; until it erupted.
And he was transformed.
to embody that brilliance.
And she protected that embodiment.
Letting nothing call it to question.
She cared for him as he never could for himself.
She soothed and softened
and loved the deep furrow from his brow.
And her passion overwhelmed him.
And he wanted for nothing.
And when he opened his eyes
To **** and filth
with only the kiss of concrete
and the banter of horns
and obscenities
and footsteps.
******* FOOTSTEPS.
Heels pittering purposefully to mask exhausted uncertainty
Brogues, and wingtips clicking; with a cocky juvenile illusion of importance.
Boots plodding heavily under the weight of duty,
to build, and fix, and secure for the others.
And through a fog laid thick and throbbing
by poisons chased dutifully the night before;
he felt her fierce love for a fleeting moment
Guarding, and loving his shining brilliance
until it erupted from him;
With bile and blood, **** and regret
coldly rejected by his concrete companion.
And she was gone once again.
Aug 4, 2018
Aug 4, 2018 at 11:04 AM UTC
Back to the scrawling pad
a cheap red notebook
wide ruled, with the perforated pages in it
in case I wanna punch one out easily
Those moleskin daze were measly
Thinking I'm creative and potent
but spending two years
to fill those tiny pages
Please, help me
reinvent the feel and manifest it
to real, accomplishment
Songs, verse, or vice grip words
to change a nation with
- to start a new nation with
Bokonon Bhikkhu
hurling Pikachus down from Mt. Olympus
land on the concrete with lemming splat
Get the metaphor?
I don't. Make your own up
I just an absurdest
A poor boy humming Queen
and writing rap atrocities
Nah, the rap "apocalypse"
minus all the apostrophes
Write so much anything anyone says
from now until oblivion
was just quoting me!
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 12:38 PM UTC
My bones are fragile and weak, i feel as if I'm just a skeleton.
Not the first time either
Flashing lights and sirens. The church bells.
I'm awake now!
Conscious, careful, cordial, cocky.
I'm done now
Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 11:33 PM UTC
Attitude.
Where does it get you?
It doesn't accomplish more positive,
Then it does negative.
Attitude.
Sure some tries to put a positive spin upon the word.
But it still doesn't get you ahead.
Those that think it does lives in a fantasy world.
Like those that push the reasons others seems cute.
Those they states brings a message to a project.
Atitude.
Doesn't cut into the great things ahead.
Being cocky or arrogant has ended great relationships.
Because those you feel better then.
Most likely better than you.
And they shows no signs of attitude.
Sep 14, 2012
Sep 14, 2012 at 4:56 PM UTC
My most favorite thing
Is when they still have long hair
And dress like guys do now
Not super baggy pants
But not form fitting either
And you take them to bed,
Or, knowing stems,
They take you to bed.
And all that manliness
About them is still
Just barely there,
In the slope of their shoulders
And the way their hands touch you
But then they get undressed
And it's the most beautiful
Combination
Of boy and girl.
They're so fresh and confident
But not cocky
They're respectful and talented
And it's like they try to only
Show the manly side
But then you get into bed
And it's like unwrapping
A present
That only gets better
Every time you unwrap it
A little piece of their femininity
Uncovered just for you,
In that moment only.
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 6:46 AM UTC
So he threw all his chips on red
Thought only of what was in his head
Which turned out to be shots of dread
For his seeds planted in young women's garden bed
Without nary water or breaking bread
Or nary knowing the breaches of his and her homestead
So he rushed down stranger's alley shed
On a runaway, wrongheaded cocky sled
Through her banks, he crashed her spread
Like a raging, raging thoroughbred
Nary was a thought of a rubber glove on his dragonhead
For the buried absence of love was in his heart of lead
There's his wife at home tucking their kids in their bunkbed
While he flirted with the forbidden apple instead
It was this night that lives in infamy for others to read this dread
For the news broke of a married man impregnating a young coed
Accosting such teen to what now proves to be his deathbed
Yet if he unwinds his c(l)ock and placed his chips on black he wouldn't have bled
Petering out the ills in his marriage he would have been freed
Now he shrivels in a shameful battle of what went through his head
Logan Robertson
10/05/2018
Oct 5, 2018
Oct 5, 2018 at 10:10 AM UTC
I sat by his bedside the day my father died.
The cancer that had riddled his body and soul now had complete control.
He fought kicking and screaming
the night the men in white came to take him on his final journey
like a great wildebeest struggling to get up on its front legs after being taken down by young lions. The way so many had said he
probably would since he fought his way tooth & nail throughout his life from the very beginning.
That night I sat on a chair at the foot of his bed staring out the huge ceiling to floor window of the medical centre at the many worlds hidden beneath thousands of rows of stationary lights and fluid winding rows of transient lights in-between and thought how the light of this window is just one of many thousands.
At that moment it seemed more like just one tiny speck in the vast star fields worlds above this city of light.
My father had spent most of his life just a short six-mile drive from here under the scattered lights of his hometown.
He turned to me and asked,
“That’s a big city. Where are we?"
Dementia had claimed his mind ten or more years earlier. It
slowly wound its way around his brain like a cocky snake
handler being choked by a boa constrictor unawares.
It seemed like it all caught up to his body. But it was good to see much of the bitterness and bad blood between us dissipated over the past decade.
On that night compassion ruled the day.
I could not say it then but it has been many years, where it seems compassion has forged with objectivity.
In a lucid moment he looked around the hospital room
bewildered as if he were a little boy who just woke up from a bad dream and asked,
“How did this ever happen?"
If only I could have told him.
Sometimes the truth cannot be spoken or heard. All I could do then was sit by his bed and lean in close to his ear and sing softly his favourite hymns.
By morning his lifeless
dilapidated body laid in the fetal position. His once ravenous mouth now forever frozen looked like a knothole in a twisted cedar tree.
All I can do now is hang my head and think of how weak and frail we humans truly are.
Like compassion forged with objectivity, weakness and frailty forges with fleeting moments of strength. We forge heroes out of these moments to tower above
the pedestals the former is made of to somehow minimize the pain of this often denied truth.
Feb 16, 2017
Feb 16, 2017 at 11:40 AM UTC
i was born all naturally
formed in a lax factory
im actually
a hack with ******* in my nose, practically,
every day, haphazardly
stumbling home, half asleep
i cant tell whats happening
vision begins blackening
im whack like kriss kross
crack like rick ross
major brown boy to houston
be like, "yes, we have liftoff"
dont like me when i'm ****** off
cause ***** i'm bruce banner
or maybe i'm bruce wayne
either way, i got mad manners
tearing down walls like berlin
preaching like its a sermon
potential begins to burgeon
i'll cut you up like a surgeon
killing in place of coercion
so you better lower the curtain
my head and my body are hurtin
so tell me how quick does the world spin?
i'm taddling on ya, you can call me a toddler
but the snitchin n' **** is somethin im never fond of
and i never grow up, cause i'm the neverland smuggler
peter pan turns into one of my best customers
i never grew into my head, im not cocky
never had the eye of the tiger, im not rocky
growing up i never got in fights or caused a lotta ****
but presently im screaming **** the world", i've got a bone to pick
i've gotta problem and i think its the probable cause
you hold me captive, keep me trapped in your facets of laws
looks of repulsion are what cause me to brandish my claws
constant compulsions reminiscent of prodigal flaws
i've gotta problem and i think its the probable cause
see im a goblin shark i'll sink in my nautical jaws
im not a joker im a jester with lesser facades
wrought with insomnia cause drugs are american gods
Mar 10, 2017
Mar 10, 2017 at 1:39 AM UTC
It was the time of summer where every kid had silently realized that it was ending,
No longer halfway through, no longer half full
Leaking and spilling out,
like the gas in my twenty two year old car
We couldn’t stop it,
And the moments of high school summertime
The moments that supposedly turn into stories we tell forever
Hadn’t seemed to have happened.
Both of us on the swing lazily swung
Dizzily from side to side.
Climbing forward, falling in reverse
Our combined bodyweight shifting back and forth
Tanned legs kicking up in an attempt at unison on every backwards glide.
Gravity hung us there,
Pulling the swing toward the ground no matter the rotation.
I sat on top.
I wore bleached shorts and bleached hair.
I worried that gravity or more so my value to it
would crush him.
At the same time, I felt unbelievably small.
The air pressed in on me from all angles,
it touched my bare legs
it easily waffled my shirt.
“Mel, if you were squishing me, I would let you know”,
he assured with a cocky tone of his very own that somehow made me feel special.
I couldn’t help but think he was only trying to be tough
Attempting to let sheer willpower overweigh my well earned quads,
My six foot frame.
The awkward body I never quite grew into
Never knew how to masterfully control
Never knew how to fill.
Though I secretly (wanted to) truly believe him
On this humid night I felt like the ball was in my court,
Like I could do anything and everything.
That nothing could go wrong
That the boy that I was sitting on was genuine
And that I could simply drive off to wherever.
(I had a full tank of gas and enough money to get me to Alabama).
I felt small in this,
in this infinity of possibility all around me.
Like a weight was pushing into me
Putting on pressure that couldn’t be ignored
That shrunk me just enough.
I felt powerless to fate
Powerless to this planet
To this grand, glorified hunk of earth which was so much greater than me
(and surely my insignificant weight anxieties).
I felt like the gas was leaking out faster than I could use it.
I felt like my infinity was disappearing as I swung within it.
Just like that, I let the ball drop and the gas leak out.
We just kept swinging.
Laughing,
Wasting,
Talking,
Dying.
Mar 19, 2013
Mar 19, 2013 at 10:16 PM UTC
Your past is a wasteland, don't let it steal YOUR potential away
Although the pain may be all consuming, you must overcome it and live to fight another day
For your own sake, say goodbye to your crutches, those things that hold you back
Lock them up tightly and put them to rest, now's the time for you to get your life on track
Wonderful things come to those who learn to adapt, this is true for children most of all
Great rewards are waiting for you on the other side of that pain you let fester, stand tall
Seize control of your inner self, mold it to your ideal, and hold that vision of you in high esteem
Never doubt you’ll get there, be cocky if you must, this is your future, it’s not for sharing with the team
Nurture thoughts of becoming a better you, help them grow and shift you from negative thinking
The mind power you wield, it's like that of the sun, it can burn away the old and energize the new
Climb higher than ever before, you are the only one who can make your dreams come true
A toast, to the promise of better days to come
A toast, to the journey of life, in all its up's and down's
May we rise to the challenge, when our armor is tested
May we rise to the challenge, when our strength of character is bested
Live strong, live proud, live free.
- Strive For Greatness
Aug 7, 2013
Aug 7, 2013 at 6:02 PM UTC
Do any of y'all really know me?
Can you see who I am from my poetry?
If your answer is yes, you're wrong
Even I don't know where I belong
When people ask who I am
I say I'm 26, a mother, a poet,
I basically just read my bio
But you've all read that too
Does that mean you really know?
A friend told me lately
To stop being so humble about my poetry
I don't like to come off sounding cocky
He says I'm **** good at what I do
But not every poem is about you
Not every word is always true
Sometimes, they're just words written in ink
To give you an idea, to really make you think....
But my poetry doesn't define me
Doesn't show you who I am inside
Sure, you've read about my heartaches
And all the nights I've cried
But nothing I write,
Can show you the inner workings of my mind
So, please don't think you really know me
Based solely on all my posted poetry
Because, to be honest, I'm not even sure who I am
And I know me, better than all of you
But please continue to read and comment
Because I'd love to know the truth
About what you all really think of me
Honestly, y'all have really helped me through
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 4:08 PM UTC
Cocky?
I beg to differ
There is someone out there
that is much better than me
So I don't believe, for one second
that i'm...
Conceded.
A word applied
To the beautiful people without
beautiful minds, embraced
by the ones less intellectually fecund
than they are...
Brazen.
Polished? I am.
Your feelings? Your worries?
******* I disregard not with brashness
But with angelic cause as my own problems
are significantly more...
Tectonic.
Shifting focus from
your meager existence
as my shear presence fills this page
Outraged? You created these proems
when daily topics I...
Eclipsed.
Full moon rising.
The lighthouse to your sinking vessel
I am not the best, but I am the best of
the better of you and your kind, lower-class
no offense, I speak...
Truth.
And the pain it brings
I don't worry about such things
I don't discount, but I do surpass
Their muggle mind with poise and sass
Dare I say I'm not cocky, just...
Confidently better than you.
Mar 24, 2011
Mar 24, 2011 at 12:29 PM UTC
I centered the poem for you to aknowledge it,
I got back from having an amazing night,
While I go out to have fun as I give amazing vibes,
hang with me and you WILL have the time of your life,
don't mean to sound cocky but my presence is impeccable,
I have fun and live life as expected too,
I have no worries because I overcame what I have been through,
24 years of age and I have wisdom of an old man but party as I am 18,
No longer a follower because I set my own rules,
I turn heads and set trends,
watch me as I spread brand new salvation,
P.L.U.R. is what is needed to be spread across our nation,
I love what I do and do what I love,
EDM baby is what is going to build and complete us.
{RP}
Nov 23, 2013
Nov 23, 2013 at 5:56 AM UTC
I lived my half dictionary life before I could
comprehend compulsory compromises.
Collectors arise, disguises and devices beeping,
chastising my blindness.
Gather geography from Afghanistan and Myanmar
graciously growing gold gilded gift horses,
gleefully gloating about floating far away.
My hoof beats above concrete match my heart’s defeat
across borders and mountains
embroidering cardboard cut-outs
calling deserts, decorating front covers.
Exhaling handcrafted letters for my missing half,
half demanding highest caliber commanders and half commanding completion.
Jade jays joyfully lay arrays of bouquets
fragile flowers decay faraway
in jawbones and jail cells.
Begging farewells in a hotel’s lobby
began my hobby,
early morning coffee and carbon copies
concurringly cocky around his dead body.
Gang ciphers for cartels are
Christmas bells hissing at collars,
half dollars embellishing bar crawlers
godfathers hollering at car haulers.
Atrocities across cities attack,
attachable atrophies audibly ambush arthritic anthologies.
Anomalies begin apologies between apostrophes,
advancing autonomy arousing ancient animosities.
All eluding Antarctica,
giant frozen crests, multi-coloured ice
hidden in my illustrations
anxious for my distant half.
Friday cassettes and cigarettes
deliberately making bets following “M”.
Breaking bindings and finding “beta” in alphabet,
may feasibly end in debt.
Feb 17, 2013
Feb 17, 2013 at 1:51 PM UTC
you're walking mighty
cocky, gobble every
little kudo to so
grow your bobbing
crimson head instead
of mending bridges
burnt to ash and grain
you rain and
wobble 'top this
weather
vain, again you
drain the night
no flight, that's
right it's you
I've named
the Rooster.
Feb 10, 2014
Feb 10, 2014 at 12:33 AM UTC
It's 2 am
The television is quietly mocking me,
telling me I'm too large for my skin,
and providing a simple solution:
tiny capsules of hope, plagued with consequences.
Caution: may cause nausea, infertility, and (in some cases) death;
but isn't that a fair trade for a flat stomach?
The media consumes us:
"Slim is **** you can be **** too!"
Girls get the message from early on that
what is most important is how they look;
not the poetry they speak
or the way they move their feet
but the size of their jeans.
Women in magazines and on TV portray an unrealistic ideal of what a woman should be.
They turn into objects.
And when we lose the fight for our humanity,
we lose the fight for equality.
Misogyny is bred through the over-sexualized photographs in magazines or on the TV screen,
but so is misandry.
Men are depicted as stolid creatures,
and boys grow up being told they should conceal their emotions,
but even the strongest walls crumble with time.
Chipping away slowly at the concrete until
a flood of passion or rage overwhelms them.
The emotional tyranny of masculinity is exhausting.
Boys' role models are fit, cocky, and brute:
He-man, Superman, Spiderman; and if you can't earn that label of "man" then what are you?
We have all been brainwashed.
Tainted to believe that the image of the ideal man or woman is what we should strive towards;
and no matter how tirelessly we scrub, the idea remains;
like the residue of a bumper sticker you used to believe in.
It is too late for us, but the future holds innumerable possibilities for a better world.
A world where women are not accused of provoking **** because of their short shorts and men are offended by the idea because it suggests that they are incapable of control.
A world where men aren't seen of as weak or unmanly because they express themselves emotionally outside of their bedrooms.
A world where despite your weight, gender, race, or ****** orientation you can pursue your happiness.
Oct 17, 2013
Oct 17, 2013 at 3:08 AM UTC
Those who are conceited are like the foamy starch in a *** of pasta
That rises and billows so proud in its manner, falling over the sides of the pan
But little do they know that they are nothing special later on
They just end up being some disgusting crusty mass that no one wants to find in their gnocchi
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 5:30 PM UTC
Get in the ring
Wait for the ding
Cause when that bell rings
It ain’t time to sing
It’s time to fight
It don’t matter if he’s double your height
And his jab bites
You ain’t a knight you the king
throws a right hook
But you ain't a rook
This is textbook
Return with the cross
Cause you're the boss
you took round one
but you ain't done
you won't run
this is your moment
you ain't broken
you're just not well spoken
there's that bell ring
you better bring
the best that you can
cause you ain't the rest
this is the test
and if you're the best
then you bring home the belt
cause you won't melt
he's on the ropes
and he hopes
that you make a mistake
but this is a piece of cake
then he throws a combination
that would shock a nation
jab
jab
hook
hook
cross
so know to take a loss
cause you ain't rocky
you were just too cocky
Dec 6, 2017
Dec 6, 2017 at 7:43 PM UTC
How can he be so cocky, fight like rocky
talking in morse code, like a walkie talkie
how can he be so cold, like an ice cube to hold
so bold like a robot that can't be controlled
how can he be so sarcastic, ******* spastic
no fantastic antics seen in plastic
won't bend and won't stretch like elastic
doing flips like a drastic gymnastic
possessed with true ability, like a runners agility
but no flexibility when it comes to futility
a never seen utility with no docility
showing capability, breaking through the fragility
Nov 21, 2013
Nov 21, 2013 at 12:58 PM UTC
My inside self and my outside self
are as different as can be.
My outside self is quiet and shy,
unsure of things and people gone by.
It is commonly thought that I am high,
oblivious, alone, with a large money supply.
My inside self is conflicting, you see.
I am confident and cocky to the highest degree.
Cultured and smart, one day you'll agree.
I will show the world, nothing can stop me.
Jun 5, 2010
Jun 5, 2010 at 3:30 PM UTC
Muffin milks the tiny teet
of a tête-à-tête torn
apart by warring factions.
slowly spitting the purple plum
dribbling, oozing
over the convex lips
which kissed and kissed.
Cream juices the cocky caucuses
of cordial cacophony.
Moist middlers meddle amidst
businesses of their own interest.
Power is power better bear than
bottom but everyone is ******
Lap the ego from the firehose,
the giant member of the state
spraying like a cat claiming "mine!"
Hellbound, hell no he'll save us
everything is going to ****
One man job to make us come
out of the 17th hole sand pit
of our pernicious premier club membership.
Oct 19, 2012
Oct 19, 2012 at 1:56 AM UTC
I’ve always been intimidated
By the man in the mirror
With his cocky face and his self-assured grin
I’ve always been imitated
By the man in the mirror
With his worried sigh and his eyes full of doubt
Oct 6, 2015
Oct 6, 2015 at 3:21 PM UTC