"egoist" poems
There are many definitions of pride,
All in which, are perceived from a side,
Notable opinions indeed when we’re addressing the dogma that arise when mind project words that express one; wise,
However, it’s all contrary to me,
Pride isn’t something relating belief,
It can’t be put aside if it’s beyond side; choice/time,
Egoist defined when declined, rejoice inclined,
I can’t respond to a situation,
There’s no resolution when living unconditional and uncertain,
I am beyond interpretation,
I do not allude in illusions and wonder why they’re certain,
Abracadabra Hocus-Pocus...
Omm, “This State Farm jingle isn’t workin,”
AHP; “Magic”; Ouroboros,
Analytical Hierarchy Perspective on Serpent,
“They have power; They influence the course of events with supernatural forces”
That’s Magic?
The law of attraction; influencing life with thoughts; Quantum Mechanics, Force is,
Say “attract it,”
Demographics defining diplomatic, power be to the tree that’s aristocratic,
Problematic if geographic determines what’s democratic,
Tragic when ethnography constitutes what’s archetypal and habitual;
A classic ritual opposite of obsolete; of course bigotries automatic,
Bring back the art of holographic,
I’m leaning back like Crack if it’s dogmatic,
I do not understand how we understand species before intelligent and acknowledge intelligence like we never had it,
As if dyslexia was a natural condition; as if this ability was somehow previously hidden so with awareness became magic,
Freedom of speech,
“But I don’t like your words, sir”
Freedom to be,
“Those are not the clothes I prefer, sir”
Being discrete,
“He’s not in my position, he must concur”
Oh, What is believed?
They’re obligated to assumptions, so they infer most-
Too much pride will **** a man,
By picking a side he’ll lose a hand,
If using his pride he’s sure to win,
If losing his mind; insane a friend,
Clueless of time; he’ll never die,
Til P take a Ride, and replace his pride with another man’s.
Aug 14, 2018
Aug 14, 2018 at 5:30 PM 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
Poetry is the altruistic apogee of the individualistic emotional egoist.
The lack of feeling, and the lack of empathy,
the petty attempt to hide them with creativity.
It’s truly astonishing how we can fool ourselves into thinking we’re kind
When we’re just wasting our time, pretending to see when we’re blind.
How could we ever emulate our chemical imbalances on one another?
The only way to do it is the kindly overrated feeling of love and affection.
And why would we need words, if we’re sure about our love for each other?
Oh, we’re puzzled to believe that our puny poetry represents felt perfection.
Yet we just walk through the valleys of lyricism,
Lost in our own wishes for joy or demise
And yet we become shadows of perfectionism
Filled with the detachment we criticize.
Our representation is our perdition
We've lost ourselves in our own mission.
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 10:04 PM UTC
Feeling crazier each day.
Schitzoid, Bulimic, anorexic of thinking.
Theories of being an egoist calm my nerves,
But a breakdown is sure to occur.
I am the hero, i own my own brain.
You can jail me. You can stone me, but I'll always be free.
I am not guilty you fat lard ****
cut off your man ****
Mar 27, 2013
Mar 27, 2013 at 1:57 PM UTC
What is this, is this empathy?
I can feel your pain - it's all about me,
I don't want to be the one in equal pain,
When there is no experience that I have to gain,
From hearing your words, your story,
For the most part, I'd find it boring.
But you recant it with such fervour,
That in protest I dare not murmur,
The urgency in which I want it to halt,
Neither of us are at fault,
You want to connect, to tell me your past,
I'm really just hoping the tale does not last,
It hurts, these feels, I have for you,
Your wounds are old, but for me they are new.
Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 9:06 PM UTC
One of the men who I always did brawl,
He did the same with me when I did sprawl
Against him in and around the school wall.
But I loved him as he supported in my fall.
He always who remained strong in squall.
His whole life is full of things big and small.
He had great powers to captivate and enthrall,
Which he used to control us full of gall.
I had been with him for nine years all –
All years nine or ten he did scrawl.
Is he selfish? Is he loving to all?
Is he egoist? Is he supporting in fall?
Such questions harassed my pitfall.
I got all answers positively in parasol –
He held my hands whenever I did call.
Made me what I’m now and took out from pall.
He is my inspiration, he is my ideal doll;
He is my guru, he is my cynic for my troll.
Aug 14, 2017
Aug 14, 2017 at 6:45 AM UTC
Don't be egoist
Get back to me
Don't think about others' thought
Come back to me
Like the coldest winter going to spring
Or maybe the warmest spring going back to winter
🌨️🌤️
Mar 28, 2021
Mar 28, 2021 at 2:56 PM UTC
the young egoist licks a blunt blade in the wall
until his tongue bleeds, to feel, yes to feel, feel anything
in these fettid depths where splinters of light
find themselves lost in the subterranean gloom
of his bedroom
where on occasion when it presents itself
listens to grotesques, yes listens with an ear
a plain nasty and unfeeling ear
yet it listens without any phoney, putrid arty language
he hears old irregular clocks
feels the smells under the ground
drinks unquenchable angers
citing their antique tonal ability
to create magic words out of rain and mist
then screaming his voice starts oozing and undulating
creeping through these slow subterranean pampas
compressing and expanding themselves never and at once
he believes it is an unsafe place of frighteningly sincere dangers
then thinks is danger a place, licks the blunt blade in the wall
for even in this desperation
it makes him happy when his tongue bleeds
he tries to perfect conventionally generous impulses
the spit of dreams, his dreams as he dons his mask
his mask of foolscap to write a poem
then encounters angel-devils and demons
who he has the power to deceive
and thinks to himself as he licks
the blunt blade in the wall
finish it, finish it
then realizes it's unfinishable
Oct 6, 2013
Oct 6, 2013 at 7:18 PM UTC
There once was a girl
a soul full of foul
greedy,egoist and proud by the nature
how can she be so ugly creature.
She was gifted with good skin and physique
faster her mind with rejected logics
carried her skin and showed with pride
in the digital screens she cant hide
bribed by the possessions she had
tried to act smart but always lacked.
Some fell for her but she gave a ****
it was her nature what could it harm.
Lost in her world of selfishness,
she once tried to be nice
hatred pulled her back with unwanted disguise.
She cant change herself because she needs to show
show her covering with outer glow
Mind full of ego she needs to learn,
the world is full of billions who earn,
earn a life without their skin but with what they are,
learn some respect without a war.
Love is a play and feelings dont matter to her.
Need to learn girl the skin you have will fade someday,
but the person you are never changes,
value your soul and not your skin,
stop smiling at your admirance enjoy your pain,
when you fall in love it will show,
and if you get rejected then you will know.
Dec 11, 2015
Dec 11, 2015 at 5:26 AM UTC
Since you kissed me I have lost everything to you. Those scarlet lips was carved beautifully; your brown eyes and its exquisite complexion captivates me; and your voice lit up something inside me
*I am astonished by your beauty, like an art
Everything that you say inspires me, like a spell
I want all of you only for myself, like an egoist*
I wonder if my eyes are too naïve sometimes
You kept saying that you are not good enough; you are not pretty, and you are not just the way I see you.
You know I am just happy to see you—feel insecure
With that I could have you
All for my self
Oct 12, 2016
Oct 12, 2016 at 9:28 PM UTC
When I fingered the thin skin on my left, vein-bulging limb
Where the forearm adheres to the costly little hand
I realized in all my intense ardor for pain
That there in my penitence, self-pity, self-loathe
I am a narcissist.
Laden with self-obsessed sorrow
There is a selfishness in being a dreary,
To feel for oneself,
When others care too much
An aggregation of sympathizing sobs and tears
Too much for an egoist
Who would rather wallow alone
In the orange-tinted hue of twilight turned nightfall
A ray of the luster in all subtle shades,
Can I summon the force to recall
Why I hate myself
Is it not that all despise me for a purpose?
And those who are inept at reasonable loathe
Are marooned in deep shame
That they had degraded themselves for what?
For a felon? Such as myself?
Deep in such sorrow,
Deep in my self-loathe
I have encountered the truth of all fruitless self-regard
I am a narcissist, egoist, one who self-loathes
Who slashes and severs and cannot speak love
Jun 29, 2014
Jun 29, 2014 at 5:33 PM UTC
She who dives
down the thorny road
in search for apothecary
to cure the woes
She who didn't
know what she would
find. Is apparently
lost
Then one day
a Galahad would
come bump her toes
Irrevocable.
Inevitable, at least.
This blasts a loud boom of happenstance
Helpless ****** in the face of
the egoist
Both come to terms
and apparently
It has to be
It simply has to
be
Jul 21, 2020
Jul 21, 2020 at 3:57 AM UTC
As an egoist animal borned in the middle " *** " of this so called " modern men" land-circles and mazes . I tell you centuries of vices and consumption altered human spirit from egoism to greedy individualism. Fat politicians claiming divinity
Mar 18, 2014
Mar 18, 2014 at 8:48 AM UTC
"Uuh, dude, your Hubris is showing.
Watch your fuckin' tongue, man.
It's cool to express yourself,
but now you're just being a ****
Hold thy beloved charientisms,
thy ****** knives in velvet sleeves:
You don't exactly seem to understand
the true power of those Words
you propagate so 'knowingly,'
as if a monkey with his own ****
but, if you do realize what you say:
you're a ******* *******
Well, which are you:
a tactless, spiteful,
foolish hypocrite,
or
an affectatious egoist
of a hypocrite?
I'd wager
an unhealthy balance
that it's both.
I've seen it for years.
You assume a lot
for how little you know.
You step on other people's sentences
with a mastered matter-of-fact tone
regardless of how true
those facts you spew
even ******* are.
There you go again,
borrowing other people's ****
without expressed consent
nor explicit intention to return;
we have a word for that, I think.
Either your behavior and morality
totally adapt to your surroundings,
and/or you're a ******* Hypocrite Fool.
Either way,
you cannot be trusted
once a back is turned.
Honestly,
if I had to guess,
I'd be hard-pressed to give you
the benefit of the doubt
by assuming the level
of consideration required
for maliciousness.
You just want all of your stuff for you,
and all of everyone else's for you, too,
and the crux is
you'll feign being pleasant
just until you get it,
then you come out of your ******* cocoon
and get all high and mighty, entitled, and condescending.
Last one on the bandwagon,
first one to throw a stone;
you're a real fuckin' winner!
All you tend to do
every time I chill with you
is berate others- oh, I meant "advise" others,
who may well be better off than you,
for having many problems
which you either could not understand,
or with which you find yourself,
you ******* Fool.
Every time I wonder
if I've become too indignant
as a direct result of your antics,
you remove my self-doubt
and reaffirm my reservations
by eating all my ******* cheese
or talking **** on my friends
behind the back of whoever it is
who has their back turned at the moment.
When will you learn?
When will you mature?
I guess nothing changes
if we tolerate **** in our faces.
Tread lightly, Elephant,
for you tread 'pon thin-ass ice."
Mar 12, 2014
Mar 12, 2014 at 1:49 PM UTC
Unforeseen flowers bobbing a wind's forever heyday...
submerged as if coral.
I could fit my valley into the shadow, and shadow into
its death with such balance.
What's overcome is sworn to secrecy...formulaic, rotund
and malignant what was prayer...even by all the loose
interpretation it suffocated the uneven, as unknown
factors of the life it's put to.
Here, as here is always concerned--it seems fruit of
Garden variety grows as to confine its worm.
It is here, as here is always concerned--I turn worm-ward...
to ultimately reveal nothing--linger coolly and repulsively.
We've an aversion to things that burrow and avert grasp--
a reward goes out for the head, or piece of such a thing
from the selfsame head.
Why is it our prayers are sent forth to expel the evils
we've gathered?
Prayer's construct is meant to be singular as it stands...
heartfelt--airtight in its sentiment.
Thus, by such definition I believe prayer is no longer
prayer--as it is here, as here is always concerned.
If you were to visualize such a prayer, the object of
devotion would become the objects of devotion to
overcome, conquer the God appealed to.
As an egoist is devoted to the objects of his/her nature...
as it were, an object may slip, avert the worm of such
prayer.
Hence, what does prayer become when its clasped
fingers curl under the spell of a blackening ******
Power lust, the bending, curling of will in prayer form
shape-shifts, and is submitted to God as prayer.
A loathsome possession of plummeting powers feeling
for themselves in adoration at every odd, and odder
angle.
As prayer was meant to be the prodigal son/daughter's
offering to the disclosed, yet undisclosed infinite...
here, as here is always concerned, the line lies to its end
to forego what is endless...unforeseen flowers
bobbing a wind's forever heyday...submerged...as if coral.
Of prayer, now--clasped hands die upon one another,
come to separately...without even the capacity to unify
such experience.
O hands of duality--meant to meet of prayer...kiss of life,
for kiss of death.
Such hands are fit for a prayer viewed by a shaman upon
the deepest cave wall, fireside.
As if two serpents deeply kissing, open-mouthed...world
to world experience is offered up...volleyed, interlocked
by and by...till God intuited as to appease such intimate
impossibility.
Who, or what could wish to keep at bay such words of
being...thereupon to release them to The Word?
Why...none other than we, so cherished by our
incomprehension it's founded us...and thus we must pray!
These two hands taken as token...as it is here, as here is
always concerned--I could fit my valley into the shadow...
and shadow into its death with such balance.
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 2:27 PM UTC
(with apologies to Elizabeth Barret Browning)
Arrogant
Book Soldier
Conceited
Con Artist
Covetous
Cunning
Deceitful
Disingenuous
Egoist
Egregious
Envious
Entitled
Evil
Haughty
Hypocritical
Ignominious
Immoral
Jealous
Jumped Up
Machiavellian
Martinet
Mendacious
Nit Picky
Obsessed
Peck Sniff
Perfidious
Persnickety
Pompous
Popinjay
Predatory
****
Rapacious
Regimental
Sanctimonious
Self Important
Shylock
Smarmy
Sophist
Supercilious
Unctuous
Unethical
Vile
Vicious
Zealot
ljm
Mar 31, 2017
Mar 31, 2017 at 1:52 PM UTC
A confused magician,
I pull the rug out
From under
My own feet;
Remain standing,
Refusing to learn:
*Nothing bruises your ego
Like your own
Bruised
Ego.*
Singing in one ear, ringing
In the other.
Both drowning out
The voice of shouldered
Angels telling me
To *let it go, just let
It go, little big boy.*
A confused egoist,
I put rabbit after rabbit
Into the hat of my closest
Human relations,
And remain on stage
Until the last of
The audience
Has left, applauding
Their every step
Away from me.
Frailty, thy name
Is Pride. Another is
Demanding Respect.
*Here, pick a card. No,
Not that. Another one.*
Some of us spend lifetimes
To grow into
Lesser men than
At birth.
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 2:47 PM UTC
Let us burn a lamp of knowledge
for those who are egoist and small,
Small neither in age nor in wage,
But potted & brittle clays those,
who are miles away from the God.
The God who is omnipresent & omniscient,
but, innocent like a nascent child,
In the divinely stretched and limitless sky,
Like an aloof but flying & singing kite.
We are most often fools,
But he is always wise,
He lives close to us
But, unseen and unrealized.
Away from the God, I mean those
who are confined to self & supercilious in this zoo.
The zoo not only of birds and animals
But which comprises all i.e.he, she, me & you.
Let us,
Share our cognizance with them also,
if not the whole then, just a little mole,
As it may facilitate them in achieving MOKSHA( salvation from physical existence)
a long cherised life- goal.
Methinks, then,
It would be the beginning of a new era,
All around people blissful & stout,
The whole world whirling in mirth,
and nothing to be worried about.
Mukesh Kataria
Aug 13, 2016
Aug 13, 2016 at 1:22 PM UTC
Once again
You are conscious
Another flow of memories
Is bursting through your veins
Like painful ache of piercing knives
Awful flawlessness, overflowing perfection
Corrupting your bloodstream with agony;
Why is there blood on your hands?
Blood-soaked sleeves of your sweater
Blazing on your pale skin with crimson glow
Like redempted lovers in a land
Where death has already conquered
I cannot hear your breath
Restful beating of your heart freezes
Yet I will sheed no tears over your frigid body
My wretched ***** lover
You loathsome empty egoist
Who left me here on my own
I will not mourn your death
For it killed who I was
Or ever will be
Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 7:25 PM UTC
"Here was a new generation, shouting the old cries, learning the old creeds, through a revery of long days and nights; destined finally to go out into that ***** gray turmoil to follow love and pride, a new generation dedicated more than the last to the fear of poverty and the worship of success; grown up to find all Gods dead, all wars fought, all faiths in man shaken..."
"I know myself," he cried, "but that is all."
Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 3:49 PM UTC
Who's in senses
and who's not
Who's more egoist
and who's bigger insane
Both are hateable
but I can't say that
The home is toxic
but I have to breathe
Environment is killing
but I have to live
Live in silence
ready for more punches
No other way
just be patient
Can't take stand
against my own assets
Apr 17, 2017
Apr 17, 2017 at 11:14 AM UTC
I am but a worthless ****
An idiot.
Stupid.
Worthy of inexistence.
I do nothing but scare.
Hate.
Break.
Wreck.
I pity myself for being like this.
Helpless ****
Empty egoist.
Hard as ****
I know I will live in hell.
There is no heaven for me.
I am cursed
And ****** for eternity.
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 1:04 PM UTC
What an appalling yearning it is...
I feel as my spirit will tear apart my presence
to fly where at the moment it would have to be,
breaking all the chains of reality
My life is addicted to you
What a hard conflict...
What a tough task...
Like a patient in a deathbed
I need a 'lifeogen' mask.
I had to be moving to you at the moment,
After a while, I had to be sitting waiting for peace
And you had to be coming in
With your warm greetings...
Now, life is beginning there,
Vitality is filling empty spheres
with your blissful voice and laughter
But none of those existing dumbs
can feel it
Someone is sitting face to face with you
Where once I was sitting
Haven't you still felt the difference?!
Haven't you still found out the case?!
Anyone can take my seat,
But no one can take my place...
Can I forgive myself for my selfishness?!
I am sometimes very egoist and ingrate!
You are laughing, you are happy now
and you feel great,
that is the main point.
I scold myself and evade all of my cravings
You know me - I am the soldier of fortune...
Keep your shining and just only laugh, please...
Jan 8, 2018
Jan 8, 2018 at 9:58 AM UTC
The mirror shines an echo of reality
a thousand times blurrier than I see.
The white lies praise closure, toxic autobiography,
as wax eyes glaze over, magnetic abnormality.
Painted mouth, a harsh sculpted shape.
Torn plastic hair, a blocked-off escape.
Between the fluorescence and the silver reply
the fruits of my labour or a sordid
fruit fly?
The scars on my shoulders, the spots on my face;
saturated colours polluting the lace.
Rouge tinted balm, a turned sickly ochre,
My elbows together,
shoulders narrower, triangular figure;
carved by an egoist, all angles and fissures.
The moisturiser refuses to sink into my skin,
a tantaliser of trial, on the surface, a swim.
Impenetrable, inaccessible, my hands rip the surface.
A false doll face with a fast fading purpose.
Jan 31, 2025
Jan 31, 2025 at 5:21 PM UTC
On friendship’s day
I bought 2 bar Magnets
Highly Polarized
Like minded on opposite polarity
N-S, then NS
So close, so connected
With “We” feeling.
Egoist on like polarity
N<>N, S<>S
Self centered, individualist
With “I/Me/Mine” feeling.
They possess
the same strength of
Connecting or repelling force
Either in one end, or
Other.
Just the polarity matters
How we keep them.
Mar 13, 2018
Mar 13, 2018 at 8:40 PM UTC