"hypercritical" poems - Hello Poetry

With the piquant poignancy of lurid allusion I create a dynamically progressive matrix of collusion Whose apex crux axis is beyond finite solution And the endergonicaly adhesive pragmatics imbue a cohesively coercive illusion For the inveterate hypotaxis of livid elusions I portray a protensive conjunction of latent confusions Whose effervescent effluence is vagile laconic effusions And the sardonic impending preponderance conveys sabbat consortium delusions From the endemic puissance of eclectic synectics I derive a dialectically semantic sorcery of syntactics Whose apothegm aphorisms are levity terse synaptics And the lucidly collusive illuminism educes the aesthetics of geomancy's fatidic Through the viable salience of kithe’s intrinsics I exude a portentous pervasion acuity of linguistics Whose apomixis anabolics are irrefragably felicitous orotund acoustics And the aural auspice austerities infer axioms of manumission’s eidetics By the hypercritical mitigations of anachronistic sociology I purvey rampart ransack oblations of epistemology Whose azure opulence articulations are futurity ostensive ontology And the evolutional ontogeny metamorphisms incur a homogeny epiphany deontology

0

Oct 20, 2016

Oct 20, 2016 at 10:30 PM UTC

toreinss-pinwinkel-iii

Pantheism

With the piquant poignancy of lurid allusion I create a dynamically progressive matrix of collusion Whose apex crux axis is beyond finite solution And the endergonicaly adhesive pragmatics imbue a cohesively coercive illusion For the inveterate hypotaxis of livid elusions I portray a protensive conjunction of latent confusions Whose effervescent effluence is vagile laconic effusions And the sardonic impending preponderance conveys sabbat consortium delusions From the endemic puissance of eclectic synectics I derive a dialectically semantic sorcery of syntactics Whose apothegm aphorisms are levity terse synaptics And the lucidly collusive illuminism educes the aesthetics of geomancy's fatidic Through the viable salience of kithe’s intrinsics I exude a portentous pervasion acuity of linguistics Whose apomixis anabolics are irrefragably felicitous orotund acoustics And the aural auspice austerities infer axioms of manumission’s eidetics By the hypercritical mitigations of anachronistic sociology I purvey rampart ransack oblations of epistemology Whose azure opulence articulations are futurity ostensive ontology And the evolutional ontogeny metamorphisms incur a homogeny epiphany deontology

20

Define a modern day criminal While hypocritical political beings run our land Living in a critical pitiful painful physical caving roof With a senseless empirical prototypical lost truth Indivisible people with inimical minds destroy the parasitical But we don’t dream We don’t wish And we fear Impermissible values atypical to the nonphysical morals Incorporated with subliminal messages conveying hypercritical cynical thoughts That create a clinical stereotypical that cousins the excremental Archetypical of hatred and malice of our digital kind Visible scars traditional to the mental demons in our minds But we take the beatings We’re let down And we disappoint An occipital which lacks visual of the coincidental Leading to a sentimental moment where the only desires are miracles The minimal heart becomes gentle and suffers pain A pain in the temple far from accidental that can offer supplemental guidance Unconditional love and fundamental care But we take for granted We’re selfish And we fail An oriental vibe in the beat box’s instrumental welfare Which adorns the continental flesh like a spring ornamental plant Judgmental is the incidental human race, the municipal force of the universe Oppose the parental control against the environmental curiosity of our infants Because unlike rental we can’t take back our wagon of mishaps in a world so hypocritical, cynical, stereotypical, digital, and just mental. Jonathan Pizarro Copyright 2011 © March 7th, 2011 5:42am

0

Sep 28, 2011

Sep 28, 2011 at 12:19 AM UTC

jonathan-pizarro

Inimical Mind

Define a modern day criminal While hypocritical political beings run our land Living in a critical pitiful painful physical caving roof With a senseless empirical prototypical lost truth Indivisible people with inimical minds destroy the parasitical But we don’t dream We don’t wish And we fear Impermissible values atypical to the nonphysical morals Incorporated with subliminal messages conveying hypercritical cynical thoughts That create a clinical stereotypical that cousins the excremental Archetypical of hatred and malice of our digital kind Visible scars traditional to the mental demons in our minds But we take the beatings We’re let down And we disappoint An occipital which lacks visual of the coincidental Leading to a sentimental moment where the only desires are miracles The minimal heart becomes gentle and suffers pain A pain in the temple far from accidental that can offer supplemental guidance Unconditional love and fundamental care But we take for granted We’re selfish And we fail An oriental vibe in the beat box’s instrumental welfare Which adorns the continental flesh like a spring ornamental plant Judgmental is the incidental human race, the municipal force of the universe Oppose the parental control against the environmental curiosity of our infants Because unlike rental we can’t take back our wagon of mishaps in a world so hypocritical, cynical, stereotypical, digital, and just mental. Jonathan Pizarro Copyright 2011 © March 7th, 2011 5:42am

33

Define a modern day criminal While hypocritical political beings run our land Living in a critical pitiful painful physical caving roof With a senseless empirical prototypical lost truth Indivisible people with inimical minds destroy the parasitical But we don’t dream We don’t wish And we fear Impermissible values atypical to the nonphysical morals Incorporated with subliminal messages conveying hypercritical cynical thoughts That create a clinical stereotypical that cousins the excremental Archetypical of hatred and malice of our digital kind Visible scars traditional to the mental demons in our minds But we take the beatings We’re let down And we disappoint An occipital which lacks visual of the coincidental Leading to a sentimental moment where the only desires are miracles The minimal heart becomes gentle and suffers pain A pain in the temple far from accidental that can offer supplemental guidance Unconditional love and fundamental care But we take for granted We’re selfish And we fail An oriental vibe in the beat box’s instrumental welfare Which adorns the continental flesh like a spring ornamental plant Judgmental is the incidental human race, the municipal force of the universe Oppose the parental control against the environmental curiosity of our infants Because unlike rental we can’t take back our wagon of mishaps in a world so hypocritical, cynical, stereotypical, digital, and just mental. Jonathan Pizarro Copyright 2011 © March 7th, 2011 5:42am

0

Sep 28, 2011

Sep 28, 2011 at 12:19 AM UTC

jonathan-pizarro

Inimical Mind

Define a modern day criminal While hypocritical political beings run our land Living in a critical pitiful painful physical caving roof With a senseless empirical prototypical lost truth Indivisible people with inimical minds destroy the parasitical But we don’t dream We don’t wish And we fear Impermissible values atypical to the nonphysical morals Incorporated with subliminal messages conveying hypercritical cynical thoughts That create a clinical stereotypical that cousins the excremental Archetypical of hatred and malice of our digital kind Visible scars traditional to the mental demons in our minds But we take the beatings We’re let down And we disappoint An occipital which lacks visual of the coincidental Leading to a sentimental moment where the only desires are miracles The minimal heart becomes gentle and suffers pain A pain in the temple far from accidental that can offer supplemental guidance Unconditional love and fundamental care But we take for granted We’re selfish And we fail An oriental vibe in the beat box’s instrumental welfare Which adorns the continental flesh like a spring ornamental plant Judgmental is the incidental human race, the municipal force of the universe Oppose the parental control against the environmental curiosity of our infants Because unlike rental we can’t take back our wagon of mishaps in a world so hypocritical, cynical, stereotypical, digital, and just mental. Jonathan Pizarro Copyright 2011 © March 7th, 2011 5:42am

33

With the piquant poignancy of lurid allusion I create a dynamically progressive matrix of collusion Whose apex crux axis is beyond finite solution And the endergonicaly adhesive pragmatics imbue a cohesively coercive illusion For the inveterate hypotaxis of livid elusions I portray a protensive conjunction of latent confusions Whose effervescent effluence is vagile laconic effusions And the sardonic impending preponderance conveys sabbat consortium delusions From the endemic puissance of eclectic synectics I derive a dialectically semantic sorcery of syntactics Whose apothegm aphorisms are levity terse synaptics And the lucidly collusive illuminism educes the aesthetics of geomancy's fatidic Through the viable salience of kithe’s intrinsics I exude a portentous pervasion acuity of linguistics Whose apomixis anabolics are irrefragably felicitous orotund acoustics And the aural auspice austerities infer axioms of manumission’s eidetics By the hypercritical mitigations of anachronistic sociology I purvey rampart ransack oblations of epistemology Whose azure opulence articulations are futurity ostensive ontology And the evolutional ontogeny metamorphisms incur a homogeny epiphany deontology

0

Aug 31, 2019

Aug 31, 2019 at 11:37 PM UTC

toreinss-pinwinkel-iii

Pantheism

With the piquant poignancy of lurid allusion I create a dynamically progressive matrix of collusion Whose apex crux axis is beyond finite solution And the endergonicaly adhesive pragmatics imbue a cohesively coercive illusion For the inveterate hypotaxis of livid elusions I portray a protensive conjunction of latent confusions Whose effervescent effluence is vagile laconic effusions And the sardonic impending preponderance conveys sabbat consortium delusions From the endemic puissance of eclectic synectics I derive a dialectically semantic sorcery of syntactics Whose apothegm aphorisms are levity terse synaptics And the lucidly collusive illuminism educes the aesthetics of geomancy's fatidic Through the viable salience of kithe’s intrinsics I exude a portentous pervasion acuity of linguistics Whose apomixis anabolics are irrefragably felicitous orotund acoustics And the aural auspice austerities infer axioms of manumission’s eidetics By the hypercritical mitigations of anachronistic sociology I purvey rampart ransack oblations of epistemology Whose azure opulence articulations are futurity ostensive ontology And the evolutional ontogeny metamorphisms incur a homogeny epiphany deontology

20

Threadbare/ by myself/ Crucifixes cupids, your arrows gone missing, your fire has been quenched! Drenched from the storm's of warring times. All things shined between the pines of whited out bark, enclose in secret, walk with me you walls of central park! Reflective beauty is farthest away from the ugliest, the smuggest of guardian hero's. Organically I am troubled to notice the one for all lingo, where greedy tidings replace the mingle of gatherings festivities. Exhibiting van/goh visions of dispense! Some pay their dues in bathrooms, while other's lose their rent! Messiahs, soo many false! Hypercritical bringer's, beeless stingers of pacific west albatross gratuities loveliness takes hold of me, while others scold me I live to die young!!!!!:*

0

May 9, 2015

May 9, 2015 at 10:28 AM UTC

brandon-nagley

threadbare

Threadbare/ by myself/ Crucifixes cupids, your arrows gone missing, your fire has been quenched! Drenched from the storm's of warring times. All things shined between the pines of whited out bark, enclose in secret, walk with me you walls of central park! Reflective beauty is farthest away from the ugliest, the smuggest of guardian hero's. Organically I am troubled to notice the one for all lingo, where greedy tidings replace the mingle of gatherings festivities. Exhibiting van/goh visions of dispense! Some pay their dues in bathrooms, while other's lose their rent! Messiahs, soo many false! Hypercritical bringer's, beeless stingers of pacific west albatross gratuities loveliness takes hold of me, while others scold me I live to die young!!!!!:*

1

Don't get me wrong: It's wrong of me to sell as Strength what is a distinct marker of Weakness— I know it, don't I know it. Hypercritical hypocrite, eaten up by the selfishness it takes me to be selfless. Refurbished goods at best, at the very best, and I wouldn't even call it that.

0

Feb 26, 2016

Feb 26, 2016 at 12:10 AM UTC

cosmo-naught

Working Theory

Don't get me wrong: It's wrong of me to sell as Strength what is a distinct marker of Weakness— I know it, don't I know it. Hypercritical hypocrite, eaten up by the selfishness it takes me to be selfless. Refurbished goods at best, at the very best, and I wouldn't even call it that.

16

The Sun will rise every day and the moon will follow its course. Let your shadow move where it will, its magnitude decided by the Sun. May you never be the reason why someone who loved to sing, doesn't anymore. Or someone who dressed so uniquely, now wears plain clothing. Or why someone who always spoke so excitedly about their dreams, is now silent about them. May you never be the reason someone gave up on a part of themselves because you were demotivating, non-appreciative, hypercritical, or even worse - sarcastic about it. Do not relentlessly try to understand. Time itself will decide. I will not be sad. It has been written for me. My joy will come when it is time. Jon York 2021

0

Nov 28, 2021

Nov 28, 2021 at 10:00 AM UTC

jon-york

May You Never...

The Sun will rise every day and the moon will follow its course. Let your shadow move where it will, its magnitude decided by the Sun. May you never be the reason why someone who loved to sing, doesn't anymore. Or someone who dressed so uniquely, now wears plain clothing. Or why someone who always spoke so excitedly about their dreams, is now silent about them. May you never be the reason someone gave up on a part of themselves because you were demotivating, non-appreciative, hypercritical, or even worse - sarcastic about it. Do not relentlessly try to understand. Time itself will decide. I will not be sad. It has been written for me. My joy will come when it is time. Jon York 2021

19

Big house, big family, big heart. Something like that, I remember. But clearly, I am the uncivilized person at the table as I hold out the salad bowl, asking for the main course. All eyes turn to me as if I am foreign. Now it is just a simple mistake. I won't make it a big deal. But when you're as much of a perfectionist as I am... You seem to hate these little things that get in your way. Things that you just didn't do right the first time. Being so hypercritical of myself just magnifies the things I do wrong. So something as stupid as a salad bowl got under my skin. I don't think I envy your family. I don't even think I envy your lifestyle. I won't call it rich, or comfortable. I'll simply say that it's not mine. And that is reason enough to not feel at home in it. The night was long, and the conversations were longer. My ultimate honestly always hanging around like a sad puppy. And yet, I can't help but think of how you could be ashamed of me. Or embarrassed by me. My ways, my habits, my lifestyle. My awkwardness, my jokes, the things I do in default. I wish I were a better spectacle to show off sometimes. Although most days, I talk more about you than I do about myself. Often talking to myself. How sad is that? To feel all of this in an instant at a supper table. But there's no time to be sad. Be a part of the conversation, don't faze out, act like it's all okay... And pass the salt.

0

Dec 31, 2017

Dec 31, 2017 at 2:32 AM UTC

Swingline

Salad bowl

Big house, big family, big heart. Something like that, I remember. But clearly, I am the uncivilized person at the table as I hold out the salad bowl, asking for the main course. All eyes turn to me as if I am foreign. Now it is just a simple mistake. I won't make it a big deal. But when you're as much of a perfectionist as I am... You seem to hate these little things that get in your way. Things that you just didn't do right the first time. Being so hypercritical of myself just magnifies the things I do wrong. So something as stupid as a salad bowl got under my skin. I don't think I envy your family. I don't even think I envy your lifestyle. I won't call it rich, or comfortable. I'll simply say that it's not mine. And that is reason enough to not feel at home in it. The night was long, and the conversations were longer. My ultimate honestly always hanging around like a sad puppy. And yet, I can't help but think of how you could be ashamed of me. Or embarrassed by me. My ways, my habits, my lifestyle. My awkwardness, my jokes, the things I do in default. I wish I were a better spectacle to show off sometimes. Although most days, I talk more about you than I do about myself. Often talking to myself. How sad is that? To feel all of this in an instant at a supper table. But there's no time to be sad. Be a part of the conversation, don't faze out, act like it's all okay... And pass the salt.

28

Abandoned Forsaken Wishing she had chosen relinquishment of my life in the womb An abomination to society An accident of my mothers making Inadequate in all areas of life Abnormal An embarrassment to my family Acknowledged for my abstract ideas But no acceptances for who I am Everyone wants to change me Animosity is a feeling that I feel upon entering a room Why didn't she have an abortion Instead choosing to vanquish my belief in myself. Destroying my chances of a future Worthless to her Useless just another tool used for manipulation Hypercritical words fall upon my ears An idea of who I should be, but its not who I am Preaching words out the bible but she doesn't follow it herself.

0

Oct 31, 2015

Oct 31, 2015 at 9:17 PM UTC

rachel-brooke-thompson

Abortion

Abandoned Forsaken Wishing she had chosen relinquishment of my life in the womb An abomination to society An accident of my mothers making Inadequate in all areas of life Abnormal An embarrassment to my family Acknowledged for my abstract ideas But no acceptances for who I am Everyone wants to change me Animosity is a feeling that I feel upon entering a room Why didn't she have an abortion Instead choosing to vanquish my belief in myself. Destroying my chances of a future Worthless to her Useless just another tool used for manipulation Hypercritical words fall upon my ears An idea of who I should be, but its not who I am Preaching words out the bible but she doesn't follow it herself.

20

There is no authenticity in their love, I suppose in a way they grew up never knowing what love really was, Then having children and allowing them to grow up, In the same way that they did, But only in a different time, Different generation, Same frame of mind, Love, you never knew her. Neither did I, Used to cry myself asleep and awake at night, Never knowing what it felt like, To have that warm feeling resonate inside, Inside me, Burning like a flame, A love so strong to the point that I never grew cold, You never knew it, Therefore neither did I, You deprived me of what you never had, You say you're nothing like her, But your just another copy, Just as stubborn, Hypercritical and mean, You are her. Just another carbon copy.

0

Dec 30, 2016

Dec 30, 2016 at 7:02 PM UTC

harley-quinzel

Give Me What You Never Had

There is no authenticity in their love, I suppose in a way they grew up never knowing what love really was, Then having children and allowing them to grow up, In the same way that they did, But only in a different time, Different generation, Same frame of mind, Love, you never knew her. Neither did I, Used to cry myself asleep and awake at night, Never knowing what it felt like, To have that warm feeling resonate inside, Inside me, Burning like a flame, A love so strong to the point that I never grew cold, You never knew it, Therefore neither did I, You deprived me of what you never had, You say you're nothing like her, But your just another copy, Just as stubborn, Hypercritical and mean, You are her. Just another carbon copy.

24

What if we created God? No, this is not another conspiracy theory or a girl’s confused saunter in a journey to find meaning to life. This is not to be an interesting argument starter or a struggle to find validation. It isn’t a base for someone to be a knight in shining armor and save a befuddled mind from chaos. What it is though is a labyrinth, a maze of furious eyes and hypercritical thoughts and a road to a much known prejudice. But what if? Have you ever wondered? What if someone, before calligraphy and inscriptions, before devotion and this iron-clad faith, when the world wasn’t as small as it is now and the need to feel presence of another being was at its apex, what if someone in the unknown vortex of time stared up at the vast entity of the sky that seemed to be filled with life back then and called out to what may or may not have felt real. And just like this make-believe man, what if each of us (in our own way) look up at the sky and in our hearts, and call out to an entity that may or may not be real, may or may not be listening, may or may not be watching over each and every one of us; and I ask myself if it would truly matter if we created God. Would this glorified being, living in the shades beyond the clouds of the promise land lose his or her beauty? Would creation seem less beautiful; as if the depth of the oceans would fail being mysterious or mountains escape their sense of opposition? Would flight become something that was not envied even though our eyes stared at the freedom the wings of a bird possessed? Would the caress of the wind on our skin stop our hairs from standing on end? Would music misplace its rhythm or melodies deafen our ears? Would our eyes stop seeing the gorgeous in the world if what we thought created the gorgeous was but only a figment of our own prelude?

0

Sep 20, 2018

Sep 20, 2018 at 5:46 PM UTC

Blue_orchid

What if?

What if we created God? No, this is not another conspiracy theory or a girl’s confused saunter in a journey to find meaning to life. This is not to be an interesting argument starter or a struggle to find validation. It isn’t a base for someone to be a knight in shining armor and save a befuddled mind from chaos. What it is though is a labyrinth, a maze of furious eyes and hypercritical thoughts and a road to a much known prejudice. But what if? Have you ever wondered? What if someone, before calligraphy and inscriptions, before devotion and this iron-clad faith, when the world wasn’t as small as it is now and the need to feel presence of another being was at its apex, what if someone in the unknown vortex of time stared up at the vast entity of the sky that seemed to be filled with life back then and called out to what may or may not have felt real. And just like this make-believe man, what if each of us (in our own way) look up at the sky and in our hearts, and call out to an entity that may or may not be real, may or may not be listening, may or may not be watching over each and every one of us; and I ask myself if it would truly matter if we created God. Would this glorified being, living in the shades beyond the clouds of the promise land lose his or her beauty? Would creation seem less beautiful; as if the depth of the oceans would fail being mysterious or mountains escape their sense of opposition? Would flight become something that was not envied even though our eyes stared at the freedom the wings of a bird possessed? Would the caress of the wind on our skin stop our hairs from standing on end? Would music misplace its rhythm or melodies deafen our ears? Would our eyes stop seeing the gorgeous in the world if what we thought created the gorgeous was but only a figment of our own prelude?

6

"How are you doing?" He asked, plastic smile wide. Playing with a bullet between his fingers, Considering homicide. A peace symbol on the wall behind him. Hypercritical state of mind. Tells me that he loves his family, So it's confusing to find, That he bombs others in another country. Practicing homicide.

0

Nov 25, 2016

Nov 25, 2016 at 12:33 PM UTC

Betweenthepages

Plastic.

"How are you doing?" He asked, plastic smile wide. Playing with a bullet between his fingers, Considering homicide. A peace symbol on the wall behind him. Hypercritical state of mind. Tells me that he loves his family, So it's confusing to find, That he bombs others in another country. Practicing homicide.

10