"entitling" poems
I am not required to love you.
Let's get that straight.
Neither man nor woman
Is obligated to profess
And show their undying love for you,
Just as the sun doesn't revolve around the world,
The world doesn't revolve around you.
A series of acts showing your "kindness"
Is not a contract for a relationship.
The very fact that you have to shout
How you are a "nice guy"
Shows how you aren't;
Kindness doesn't need reassurance.
To be frank,
This whole delusion
Is getting a bit out of hand
(see: the ****** Killer",
a guy so sexually frustated
He killed people
for not giving him the right to get laid).
Maybe, hear me out here guys,
it's not because girls only look for "bad guys".
Maybe we look for soulmates,
Not Good Samaritans with hidden agendas.
This may come off as a shock for some of you,
But all-around goodness isn't equal
to treating girls nicely
Only because you might have a chance.
So if your mating dance
Consists of acting like you're an angel And simultaneously complaining
About the blindness
And insolence of women,
It's high time you should stop.
Put down the fedora while you're at it.
It's become a symbol for gentlemen for you,
But now it's a warning sign for us: "Beware the self-entitling guy!"
Honestly, we cringe every single time.
And darling,
Nice guys always finish last
because they whine
Instead of running.
Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 9:28 AM UTC
The majesty of a clear sky
is what gets alive in front of my eyes.
Within the deepest darkness consumption
I encountered the path to beauty and seduction.
Your lips I see moving,
your metaphors I see diffusing.
Brilliant onyx magic covered this soul
entitling it to be finally whole.
And now fire feels cold,
no one can ever be so bold.
And all this Power in me
simply makes me be.
The brightness in my smile smolders.
Can you see how clear waters smother?
Can't you see how Light can also ****
And how obscurity may help to live?
Inside your entangled tale and fail
I dug your own grave and pain.
You may believe the fortune teller
for your destiny to be even lesser.
Search for the Mother Moon,
but I promise it'll always be too soon,
because the Daughter of Night
will forever be on Her side.
Aug 7, 2013
Aug 7, 2013 at 12:53 AM UTC
There was a man who once lived in your very house. In fact, his own bedroom was the one you sleep in every night. He lived and breathed; he was very much real. But what does it mean to be "real"? He was an animate being, that much is true. He was alive, more or less, but he was dead. He lived day after day just to live; he lived for nothing. His schedule was strict and monotonous, and it could never be changed. It still hasn't been lost, after all these years. His schedule lives on; I suppose you can call it his legacy. It's still in his house, your house; it's drifting in the air, absorbed into the walls. He had no life; he breathed for no other purpose than to stay, so to speak, "alive." The man's identity you ask? Why, this man is you. You died many years ago, when you stopped living for a purpose.
May 7, 2010
May 7, 2010 at 6:44 PM UTC
What’s the harm in joining with a crowd of people
United around a rainbow and a passion for equality?
If it’s true that
God Hates ****
Then we’re in real trouble
Under the colours of His great judgment on the party of depravity
Entitling the parade as
Pride
Which goes before destruction
If it’s true that
God is Love
Then let’s not be offended
There is no need for
Straight Pride Day
Unless I missed the memo
Threatening the death penalty for love and marriage
Is it not the case that the driver for Gay Pride
Is that some are treated differently, judged by their inside
When the rest of humanity can step up and take Pride
In their efforts and achievements, and not what they confide
In their most trusted friends so as to dodge that stereotype?
So why has the parade become the world’s greatest collection
Of the loudest, brashest versions of the most extreme ideas
When almost every gay person I know is almost disappointingly…
Normal?
My Gay-Proudest moment was when I gave a job
To an LGBT chairman, who stood out from the crowd
Not because of his leaning and not because of pity
But for being the best fit and better-skilled than the rest
The Day on which we can be
Gayest and Proudest
Will be the day when there’s no need
For Gay Pride Day
Jul 7, 2017
Jul 7, 2017 at 5:09 AM UTC
“I can’t b r e a t h e. You’re trying to sheathe me from the world. But I just want to scream and flee. I want to leave, I want to escape. I don’t want to be bounded, I don’t want to be caged. But your muscles are possessive, hands like shackles and ribs encasing and engaging. Your scent clings to my finger and your embracement breaks my bones. Your words make decisions for me, exerting boundaries onto me. You’re stifling my breath and suffocating me. You want my blood to move at your accord. But I am drowning, choking and gasping. You’re pushing me away by entitling me. Your possessiveness knows no limits as you become invasive. You say it’s just because you love me, that you would go beyond any limit; but it’s obsessive. I feel like I am on a leash. I am no longer my own person, but a puppet to my master. A land to your dominian.”
Feb 20, 2018
Feb 20, 2018 at 4:05 AM UTC
My room has become a hell hole
A playground for the demons that nobody thinks exist
But I see them
Have you ever looked a demon in the eye?
It makes you see life differently
My room has become a loony bin
My bed
A straight jacket
Entitling me to break
I'm entitled to my broken bones
My room is a place for monsters
Ghosts aren't even on the A-list
Sep 26, 2014
Sep 26, 2014 at 6:26 AM UTC
Buddy-buddy up to the riff-raff rat pack.
Those self-entitling, blind-as-a-bat Big Macs.
Get your free ride, legs spread valley-wide.
But don't give me your empty "hello"s and "goodbye"s.
I've broken my back to earn this measly stack
And I'll probably burn it up like I'm addicted to crack.
A dollar here, dollar there. Oh no, it's all gone.
It's about that time for you to hear the fat girl's song.
Do you. I'll do me. We're not compatible, see?
I just want to burn trees and make melodies.
I'm not sure what you want, I can't hear you clearly.
Perhaps remove from your mouth that gold-nugget D.
Leave me alone. You smell of regret and greed.
If you weren't so ****** this might be flattering.
I'm sure there's some good in you, some decency.
But I've learned my lesson following these "maybe"s.
If I've grown cold, I prefer to see it
Like I just appreciate the warmth all the more.
Bought and sold, bought and sold. I'll keep on believing
silver linings, disguised blessings. Hmm..
The window, or the door?
Dec 30, 2016
Dec 30, 2016 at 10:50 PM UTC
oh no!
another fateful overlooked poem title,
ensconced in a message not initially gripped tight enough,
the entitling command, the wish, this commish-on,
angry for having been ignored, overlooked,
calls the poet out, what, a deadline missed again?
again.
an inherent compliment contradiction,
the well wisher, wanting an enlarged heart, like mine,
is wise in the ways of double meanings,
knows full well, that the enlarged heart is burdensome,
that weight of those afflicted with enlarged hearts,
walk with the stooped bent of responsibility.
so I write and weep, weep and write,
what a thing to wish for, defer it, deter it,
and yet here, I affirm it!
for in my possess is a sure and certain knowledge,
that a new born girl, has surely already stretched the measurements
of Pradip’s own heart’s boundaries, no wishing necessary,
a natural occurring phenomenon, a first grandchild grasped,
raised up to the light on high, a chemical reaction, an eclipse so
when the body’s brain commands it minions,
ordering messengers, sent to every province, to every *****
piercing every cell’s shell with a kingly commandment scroll:
**heart! all body parts!
grow, enlarge, engorge, for a fearsome wonderful injection of love arrives, a new baby will heartily enlarge, make room for more.**
the wonderful burden of love.
<>
a commission satisfied. perhaps I will sleep tonight...
Feb. 10, 2020
2:04 pm
Feb 22, 2020
Feb 22, 2020 at 9:18 AM UTC