"grandiosity" poems
The equilibrium of the ecosystem is challenged by the rites of the 11th Century Norsemen. Smell the pine in the forests of North America where the dream catcher swings in the branches of the misty Boreal forest.
We must never forget in our futile plight for supremacy, that the roots of trees are deeply connected to the annals of history where contemporary grandiosity is a mere mirage of what we call sophistication.
Toccata and Fugue in D Minor is where Johann Sebastian Bach communicated his message as clear as the cries of those who were slaughtered in the Highland Clearances. Parallel octaves of our Viking ancestry are firmly established and will never be altered despite the quests of the New World Order.
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 3:58 PM UTC
*Don't make me laugh
Your not in love with me
Let me tell you why
It's just your fantasy
Cause this is not love
You surely are mistaken
You've never felt love
or anything close to it
Cause you never had
love to under stand
You were too busy with pleasing
Standing up to expectations
Trying to fit a larger than life figure
Chasing dreams that were impossible
You drove yourself harder
Hoping that somehow you'd make up for the affection you did not receive.
Your running on empty
And empty is all you can give.
Love is not keeping yourself bottled
And taking flight for the smallest threat.
To your grandiosity.
Love is not sending cryptic clues
Trying to gauge responses
Love is not in hiding
But in making itself felt
Love's presence is silent
Yet the warmth radiates.
So I have nothing to expect from you.
Your tethering is not astonishing
I can understand the see-saw you feel inside.
An emotional wave you fear to ride.
So it's best we let bygones be what they are meant to be.
Don't start the process all over.
Try not to kindle the spark
Cause the fires have blown over.
I've healed myself, of the emptiness you've left behind.
I am not turning back this time.
My resolve is deep, my mind made up.
I have promises made to myself.
To live a full life and always be content.
So, heads up I walk into my future
Closing the door of my past.
Letting go of the riddle of a relationship
And leaving the hurt behind.
You are now a closed chapter.
The book I could not complete.*
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 9:21 AM UTC
born underwater a ****** to the birth of creation
complacent verses bathing in lakes wasted her patience
ocean poems emotive prose the notions grow
breast strokes sowed in silly string civilized sovereignty
divinity’s reliance divided by Earth’s dire needs
fires breathe regardless of the rain she breeds
seeds beneath the sand hold no reason to lie in wake
so we speak in foreign tongues with dominance a mistake
to take her language for another world
visions died with imminence and grandiosity
a coliseum’s misconstruction catalyzed combustion’s coldest counterculture
living within the wind sinning stings it’s singularity
glaring stares impaired all sages of their clarity
careful conscious turned rotten swimming in the toxins
glossy water robs apostles of oxygen
filtered riddles fiddled this conviction’s symmetry
& now the god’s live in ignorance and misery
crimson skies abysmal cries they’re looking at the ground
astounded to the loud doubts that overpower clouds
powdered optometry devoured flowers of their solitude
another rotten petal for every sentiment left misunderstood
confused prisoners gifted with the write to think
proles sentenced to wonder why the caged bird sings
a paradox of broken thoughts to question it’s intentions
matter undermined the undefined enlightenment
spirals in the light comprise a present tense
evanescent destination sensei keep I humble
so many stripes up in my wavelengths
widowed endorphins scrape the pain away
balanced chemically an efficacy of electricity
many marvel but the master’s prophecy is destiny
Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 4:13 PM UTC
( or also entitled : Just How Much ******** Are You Prepared to Believe)
Confidence - grandiosity
Hope - Delusion
Ambition - grandiosity + delusion
Love - Co-dependency
Unrequited Love & romantic hopes - Erotomania
Sexuality - Hypersexuality
Happiness - Manic mood
Sadness - Depression
Shock - Post Traumatic Stress Disorder
Emotional - Bipolar
Fear - Paranoia/psychosis
Distrust - Suspicion ( e.g paranoia)
Loneliness - Neediness
Needing connection to others - Co-dependant
Existential doubts - suicidal
Spiritual awakening - psychosis
Sarcasm - Aggression
Loner - socially-withdrawn
Messy - self-neglectful
Angry - dangerous/violent
Faith - dangerous Religisiosity
dubious combination
of some of the above : Schizophrenia
Note : All of these need drugs to 'cure' them so the drugs companies can make a fortune & pay you a premium. Where did you think the money for your salary came from?
Jul 7, 2015
Jul 7, 2015 at 10:38 AM UTC
ah, didn't you know..
powerful imagery better weaves itself
through a simplistic tale of truth
rather than in some poem boasting
grandiosity
you know, full of Harvard-taught words
and, quite honestly, empty
meanings
Aug 21, 2014
Aug 21, 2014 at 12:57 AM UTC
Hmphh. The Goat. Ruled by the Black Hand of our solar system. Gate of the Gods, but you truly fail to see your real potential because you're clueless how real motivation works. You are not a prodigy, you are the most basic construct of a human, next to the over achieving Leo. The two idiots of the zodiac flitting about. You would think with being the Goat, you'd want to aim high, climb, and grab life by the ******* ***** right? Nope, most of you are homebodies who are phobia ridden. Saturn got your pessimistic ways? Boohoo, go cry with Cancer, there's a "whipping sign" you can take out your miserly and grudging ways on. Discipline? More like, "I'd rather watch paint dry than your ridiculous dreams you always seem to be chasing". And why you try to come off as hard workers is beyond me. You do very minimal and claim some ******** grandiosity; highly annoying in your braggart ways. ***** please, don't come off as serious, we all know Elvis died on the toilet. Get over it.
Advice: Do some real work without all the nonsensical stupid, dry humor. You aren't as brilliant as you think.
Jul 2, 2015
Jul 2, 2015 at 11:09 AM UTC
A different kind of cold settled
in them as they poured through the door
into the bleak grandiosity of the lobby.
A group of grievers:
Her ashen husband and their two daughters, 12 and 20,
Her two sisters dressed in black fleece
and Her mother with freshly bruised knees.
The night was agonizingly short once they arrived.
Prayer and hope for rehabilitation
between questions about resuscitation.
Her mother clung to the cruel Almighty
While Her husband clenched his fists at the chaplain.
A Stroke of an instant induced a transformation of lives
as Hers ended beneath the blinding fluorescence.
Dec 3, 2011
Dec 3, 2011 at 4:03 AM UTC
Signals are indicative of current warnings, just like a beacon of light which penetrates the abyss of parliamentary speeches which are designed to evoke contemptuous laughter.
Such animated gestures are not dissimilar to crumbled biscuits which are catapulted before throngs of anticipatory populations.
However, there are varying degrees of rectitude, where the graded fraternity assume grandiosity as they lodge in the fabric of society with loyal deception.
Lurking in the esoteric shadows with the adorned regalia of blatancy and defamed characters - our captors are hidden in plain sight with political sanction.
Gestures are a form of non-verbal communication, where specific messages are planted in anthropological soils with intended purpose.
Jul 29, 2014
Jul 29, 2014 at 11:19 PM UTC
I will whisper into a heart sewn shut.
My wishes and dreams so that this fabric
resonates with the ineffables of our love.
I'll hope that with every brush against stitched fabric, the wish is brought to life.
A small, simple wish: that the one I love,
whose claim is
my best,
most truest friend,
will feel that wave of intensely genuine passion.
vibrations channeled to a physical symbol
in hopes these wishes
deliberately
resound so that may she ever-
for the briefest of movements-
listen in to this seashell of a heart,
right in the uprush to experience:
a grandiosity the universe envies,
this galactic ocean of appreciation
born from a kaleidoscope of raindrops;
collected and formed from essences of you;
a soft, single wave to break upon her most delicate shore, feeling your toes in the tide.
Oct 15, 2016
Oct 15, 2016 at 11:01 AM UTC
He was born of the grandiosity,
The pride of wolves,
The bravery of lions,
The wit of ravens;
He was born of a beast.
He had the might of the strongest,
He triumphed every strife.
He always had the victory,
Of the pleasures of life,
He was born of a beast, indeed;
Yet unlike the beasts akin;
He was not of ferocity,
A strange affliction, received;
Bravery of lions, he has, indeed,
Yet, he struggles with a foe.
The foe gave the toughest skirmish he had,
Sadly, he failed to vanquish it:
The sullen darkness, the specter,
The mist that did nothing but whisper;
Whisper tragedies over naught.
It filled him with guilt,
It filled him with fear;
It made the Beast weary,
To conceal the scars he sought in battle;
A battle far too explicit.
He, the beast, ventured endlessly,
Trying to hide his curse.
He tried to release himself from everyone;
His kinship, his gallantry,
His kin.
Then in his yonder, he met a wisp;
Lively, bright, pompous.
The wisp accompanied him in his bouts:
The bouts that hid his truths,
The bouts that pushed him away from his realities.
Alas, the Specter he encounters once more.
Again, it whispers his fears.
Amidst the pain he listens to, a faint voice enlightens him;
The wisp speaks his bravery;
The wisp speaks acceptance.
His eyes were unclouded,
It glowed like never before.
He had done something he thought he would've never done:
Vanquish the evil that haunts him;
Vanquish the Specter of Censures.
A day arose again.
He, the Beast awoke, listening to the hymn of the wisp;
It spoke that his battle was not of the specter's,
That his battle was within the Beast's self,
And with it, he slumbers, edified.
He awakens once again,
Realizing the truth that he is:
A flamboyant Faun,
Frolicking in the meadowy grasslands,
Basking the Sun's warmth.
Yet realizing this, he wears his mane once more,
As he is greeted again by his kin;
He fears not that hisself be lost;
He fears that his all would be lost,
When they are darted by his Truth.
He, the Beast still walks upon his feet,
He still has the grandiosity of his birth,
Yet he forcefully clouds himself in lies,
To hide the reality he only can accept;
The Faun, hiding in the beast's mane.
Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 10:44 AM UTC
Into ethereal realms I glide;
places far removed from reality
yet closer to my heart.
Places of mystique and impossibility,
conjured by the dreamer's art.
Escaping reality,into dreams I slide,
Wishing here forever I could abide.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ambling idly along an ill-kept path,
breathing in scent suffused air,
I top a rise in the terrain.
White flowers frail and fair
hiding the scorched ground in vain,
stretch towards a victim of fiery wrath,
A city in ruins in war's aftermath.
Great walls now lay crumbling,
beautiful houses now are charred.
The marble palace famed for it's splendour,
the song of many a bard,
now lay torn asunder.
Once magnificent,now lay wasting.
Once beautiful,now not existing.
Nature now reclaiming the city,
vines creep on broken towers,
moss adorns the facades.
Before elements it now cowers,
it's strength before time thawed.
Defiant once in it's grandiosity,
now quivering with fragility.
What riches must have been there!
And how elegant the royalty!
The halls filled with songs,
hearts with bravery and fealty.
Of people wise and strong,
of Wonders beyond compare
the ruins tell and despair.
As golden red rays shine upon it
from the slowly sinking sun,
Lo!Behold a wondrous thing!
The city as if by magic spun
restored by illusions mocking.
Like a tapestry gold-knit
depicting tales blood-writ.
For though there stand
the towers and palace once more,
though the beauty seems rewoken,
the city is empty and sore.
The beauty is broken.
By cruel touch of illusions' hand,
blood now stains the walls grand.
The sun finally went down
and the vision faded.
The city no more before me,
ruins again in it's stead.
Wishing no more to see
I turned away with a frown
and walked back down.
Aug 16, 2013
Aug 16, 2013 at 10:31 AM UTC
Enigmatic locks of brunette hair let out a cathartic release
Now watch as the man flees with the upmost glee
As he is faced with emerald gazes
Fear
Fear Fear L
Fear Fear o
v
Fear e
Not of the reaper but which was sown
Of ones own ilk.
Envy H
Envy a Envy
p
Envy p
Y
Even Narcissus was brought down
In a pool of his own grandiosity
Doubt
Doubt
Doubt No more
Apr 12, 2019
Apr 12, 2019 at 9:45 AM UTC
Reluctant to share
Loathe to believe
Defenses worn thin
Weakened by saccharine kindness
Cliche grandiosity seasoned a bland bland world
Black and white, lost in shades of gray
Colorized emotions drip life into an exsiccated heart
A sunlit spotlight of warmth
Faded painted colors can never return to grayscale
Changed forever by a moment, if not by accident
Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 9:00 AM UTC
Embedded in the crease of streets
Lies litter from this wasteland world.
Grandiosity of trees despoiled by plastic bags
Shredded to a baleful wind-whipped bunting.
Cans and bottles glint in summer sun.
Their quenching duty done, they figure
In a losing landscape, tinged by neglect.
Dog-eared gutters crouch against the kerbs,
Lusting for a sluice of cleansing rain.
At least the leaves all lavished beauty once,
To cast a vibrant coloured throw
Across a calloused landscape
Through the gnarl of tarmac
And turgid, timeless traffic.
Jan 30, 2010
Jan 30, 2010 at 10:55 PM UTC
Falling with shoe laces undone,
Only whispers, the quietness amidst grandiosity, majesty life beyond me
The tragedy is, I am melancholy, the family
Who don't know quiet, they judge often, they
Need control over each other, competition is so powerful
No silence, so love cannot grow, it is cheapened by talk, talking, exhchange, The children crave approval
The parents crave limitless pride,
Everyone is disappointed, the gift merits more control
The mountain is not of character, rather it is God, only understood
Amidst the silence
I can feel the poem in my forehead
Stop editing, pull it out of you
Ermine dire Sanctus, Jesus burning in cackling solidarity tainted , save me, I surrender, take it, tear off the sarcasm, show me your light, your beauty
Too intense for the public, only known in silence, the majesty of great nature, the objective world, the spirit of chaos, ******** and spitting, unwrapping, giggling, ******* ******* sizing, ughhh putrid ugly hierarchical idiocy act, urching and lurching felt so secretly, brutality, eating its way out of the stocking, crispy toffee, Buddhist books that will never be read, shaving kids, raging! Hurting, false gratitude, let it out! Romping, stomping, groping for lustrous pious godless lurch, ****** through my pallet, based on experience, wreaking, cleansing
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 9:46 AM UTC
To: The one
that can draw
The grandiosity
Out of me
To write you a ******* song
Come on,
****
the
words
right
out
of
My
mouth
Jun 27, 2013
Jun 27, 2013 at 9:56 PM UTC
I have connected with Hells Angels who embrace undiluted violence in the quest to find release; and I have to say that I, too, believe in the swift administration of justice. Further education is often necessary. If it is withheld, then presumptions will continue with misplaced grandiosity. So, let us not delay as we seek to Triumph over poor accountancies. The debt needs to be paid in full, my friend of forked suspension.
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 3:46 PM UTC
It wasn’t too late, too early,
Simply a masquerade of paranoia;
Such an excuse blankets my
Poorly timed daydreams and
Silly grandiosity, unwillingly
Born from words left unsaid
Silence is a virtue when you are lying in bed
Out of breath and perspiring,
Nothingness is so tiring, conflicting when
Time has gotten much older
But my head’s on your shoulder,
**** your words and expressions,
Suspiciously uttered into my ear
When I’m spent, on my back
Yet I still attempt a smile
As I’m touched, in denial,
Slightly used and abused,
Your best kept secret.
Keep these moments on empty,
Thoughts secured tight,
Taking no feeling out of these nights,
The sick darkness reoccurs, if it wasn’t for you
Knew it couldn’t be right,
I am shut, uncatchable, unreachable, cold
Because everything in happiness eventually gets old;
This has been for a while,
And it’s making me numb…
I guess now we both know
What this has become.
Jan 5, 2010
Jan 5, 2010 at 12:18 AM UTC
Let us execute concealment with the members of our fig-leaf-covered modernity.
There is a special tree of eternal significance where authority bows to the constraints of predestined lunacy.
How much do you want to buy from me? Half an ounce?
Let us please converse over the threshold of ancient modernity. Why? Because that is not uncommon to the self-proclaimed grandiosity of our wonderful establishment.
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 2:50 PM UTC
Snatched in betwixt'
The Shifting
and Switching
All midst the alters..
and moods..
The hasty cyclone..
The Rapid cycling..
The Stumbling..
The hurling..
One after other
All these emotions'
transposing-
From exhilaration.
grandiosity.
The loquacious episodes..
To Exasperation.
Despondency.
Despise.
Remorse.
The floating. dripping.salty..rampage.
And
amid all frantic..
all the chaos..
There..
this effete voidness..
Gleaning selves up'
unhanding 'em again
Gleaning.
Unhanding.
Gleaning And unhanding .
Over and over
Again
Jun 2, 2017
Jun 2, 2017 at 8:46 AM UTC
Why not the sorrow
Instead of hopeful constellations
From mythical legends,
Instead of the lost Gardens of Babylon,
Beauteous notions
Of the heart's grandiosity?
If everyday is a struggle,
If each day we try to fill
The void we are born with,
If pain is all too real;
We are born into the struggled,
To be friends to enemies
To make ourselves whole
While trying to find the existential
Moment of truth in ourselves,
As we gulp down joy
And sweat about under the sun.
The sorrowing cannot be claimed,
Though its air chokes you,
Though it eats your luster,
There is the other that one rarely
Finds, joy in the light.
Sorrow is too frequently a visitor.
Jan 3, 2016
Jan 3, 2016 at 4:48 PM UTC
I am many things.
Mostly,
a beast of burden.
I am everything.
Mostly,
painful consciousness.
I am pain.
I am detriment
to my own health,
as well as
I am detriment
to my others.
What do I want?
Alexandria fell.
For what more could I want?
Then, may the flame
burn, ad infinitum,
inhale human conquest.
What do I want?
To keep grandiosity
from obtaining starships.
Or,
Just turn to dust,
As is the prophecy,
Happy the motes
ever did arrange.
May 14, 2019
May 14, 2019 at 12:33 AM UTC
Help the aged
But not too much
For they weigh heavily
On the goverment’s budget
And on our conscience
And make us face
Our own mortality
Help the poor
But not too much
For they might think
They deserve better than this
And make us see
That petty philanthropy
Is pure hypocrisy
Help thy neighbor
But not too much
For there is no society
Just you and me
A collection of people
Just ordinary people
Trapped in individuality
Help your country
Above anything else
For there is honour
And glory to be found
Make the world see
And let them gasp
at our Grandiosity
And do help me
Above anything else
Vote and applaud loudly
Make this country great again
And help the aged and the poor
But don’t expect
Too much sympathy
Oct 21, 2015
Oct 21, 2015 at 1:00 PM UTC
(This is by no means an attempt at poetry. It is, instead, a piece of satire.)
Making Adultery Great Again
Make America Groan Aloud
Making Americans Greedy ********
Male American Grandiosity Association
Many Americans Grabbing *****
Mediocrity Actually Grows Annually
Men Acting Grossly Asinine
Masculinity And Grossness Amalgamated
Meanness And Greed Acceptability
Megalomaniacs Abrogating Government Accountability
Mostly ******** Getting Aggressive
Masking All Government Aggression
Miserable Atrocious GOP *****
Mad Animals Getting Angry
Making America Grow Antisocial.
Misanthropic Association Gutting America
Mistaking Accuracy, Growing Artless
Misery Accompanies GOP Analyses.
Misquoting Anybody Gains Approval.
Misspelling Anything Good Anytime.
Magic Ain’t Gonna Appear
Maybe All GOP Avoid
Meanness And Gouging Anytime
Money And Greed Always
May 12, 2018
May 12, 2018 at 9:12 PM UTC
and who so ever is here must be so in actuality and not merely in theory
a lover who betrays is not a lover nor was nor shall be
a friend is simply that, and nothing more should be expected,
for friendship is truly under-rated by those seeking grandiosity
as a means of escape
the world needs you now
in actuality, not theory
Aug 18, 2010
Aug 18, 2010 at 10:03 AM UTC