"ostentatiously" poems
What's it take
These days
To write a poem
That makes the world go mad
That brings the crowds to their feet
That spreads like wildfire
Through a dry winter forest
Is it those excessively long words?
The ostentatiously loquacious
Platitudinous ramblings
Of an insecure mind aspiring
To authentic intellect?
Is it perhaps...
the "creativity"
of varied spacing
or... could it be..... the lack
of capitalization
the loathsome little letters
screaming out
hey, look at us!
... or maybe it's
the punctuation marks,
littered, haphazardly
through the text
(whether used correctly)
or, theyre not?!
despite worrds mispeled
and a grammar might is broken
can these gimmicks increase interest
though miswritten or misspoken?
Is the trick alliteration
Whose bite brightly bids us
To center on the snappy sounds?
Although all along
unvoiced underneath
Ideas idle in the isles
(or perhaps the aisles)
Of the mind
To meld and craft and bind
Our thorough thoughts
And worthy words
Into lines
Which
Heard by herds
Raise the
Praise for which we
Privately, desperately
Pray
Maybe it's a magical mix
Of splendid in-your-head rhythm
Marvelous meter that perfectly clicks
Flowing smoothly without schism
Well-spaced stanzas
Well-used time
Well-crafted phrases
Well-thought-out rhymes
Well, maybe not...
those gems are often ignored
cast-aside, unread, even abhorred
Why?
Because the modern world
doesn't need your rules
your restrictions
your regulations
your misguided boundaries
your oppression
your antiquated ideas
of "the right way"
to write
to speak
to act
to live
to (fill in the blank)
No, what the modern world needs
is
Negation!
Contradiction!
Resistance!
Revolt!
And poetry whose words
Say the same thing
Repeat the same meaning
Echo the same lyrics
Rephrase the same thoughts
But in an ever-so-slightly
Different
Varied
Altered
Adjusted
Changed up way
Line
After line
Of synonyms
over
and
over
and
over
again
-----
What's it take
These days
To not give in
To narcissism's spiral?
But more importantly:
What's it take
To make my poem go viral?
Aug 12, 2018
Aug 12, 2018 at 12:17 AM UTC
Buds burst forthwith outward
Leaving the private world of
Growth to be anew
The foal steps lightly
First on air then grass
Smoke rushes in hunlike
Ostentatiously in combat
Purity is its own demise
Osmosis and entropy reign
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 9:28 AM UTC
The line didn't move, though there were not
many people in it. In a half-hearted light
the lone agent dealt patiently, noiselessly, endlessly
with a large dazed family ranging
from twin toddlers in strollers to an old lady
in a bent wheelchair. Their baggage
was all in cardboard boxes. The plane was delayed,
the rumor went through the line. We shrugged,
in our hopeless overcoats. Aviation
had never seemed a very natural idea.
Bored children floated with faces drained of blood.
The girls in the tax-free shops stood frozen
amid promises of a beautiful life abroad.
Louis Armstrong sang in some upper corner,
a trickle of ignored joy.
Outside, in an unintelligible darkness
that stretched to include the rubies of strip malls,
winged behemoths prowled looking for the gates
where they could bury their koala-bear noses
and **** our dimming dynamos dry.
Boys in floppy sweatshirts and backward hats
slapped their feet ostentatiously
while security attendants giggled
and the voice of a misplaced angel melodiously
parroted FAA regulations. Women in saris
and kimonos dragged, as their penance, behind them
toddlers clutching Occidental teddy bears,
and chair legs screeched in the food court
while ill-paid wraiths mopped circles of night
into the motionless floor.
10.3k
“Congratulations
You managed being five feet above the ground”
Said a man who
Can’t contain a slight, sardonic sound
The situation:
He’s reading eating magazines from the coast of Spain
And yelling himself blue
For the jeepney won’t hurry in the pouring rain
He smashed his head on the glass
Wishing for a train
It nearly cracked / but his
New cadence sounded quite sane
“Congratulations
You took five before you smoked the first one down”
Said a man who
Complimented me for sinking above the ground
“It’s estimation
I might trip before a wheel enters our lane”
I yelled the truth
At this moment, his presence started to stain
A boat that had already passed us
Yelled, “All aboard!”
We weren’t sure it would float
But it had a great deal of cords
Then we clambered on
There was a myriad of golden spades
Two for every buried fool
That was forced to stay
The stench was concealed
By the satisfied old man
A woman muttered
That she was headed to Queensland
A driver viciously flung his arms
Into the air, in apt alarm
The intersection’s volley
Aimed for the starboard
Everyone reached for the mast,
Hoping to soar
“Congratulations
You nodded off before the lights started to blare”
Said a man who
Lied, ostentatiously impaired
I’m at the station
Then, I noticed to my side was a golden *****
I dug myself through
The mahogany and got on with my day
In the rain
Oct 8, 2018
Oct 8, 2018 at 2:34 PM UTC
Gliding through this timeless labyrinth
My sight can't pierce so thick a mist.
Alone in my vessel,
just drifting clumsily...
Anxiety wrung raw in these cold, clammy fists.
All is quiet...
save for the faint sloshing against my tired hull.
I quietened my breath...
Such peace exists now in my vessel.
Slapping gently against my side,
invisible ripples came to lull.
I cannot see what lays ahead...
I do not know of my ultimate destination...
I am alone in my vessel...
Drifting along this watery bed.
Awaiting nothing...
but elusive answers to pointless questions.
I cannot fathom what lies above
the canopy that shields me.
I'd imagine the stars...
Twinkling in codes,
whispering the secrets of the universe.
Unheard to those who will not see.
I'd imagine the ripe new moon...
Beaming down ostentatiously.
Bestowing light upon those who'd croon...
Those who'd shamelessly bask in her majesty.
But many...
Just remain in the darkness.
Submitting to the will of the currents,
getting lost in the odd calmness...
And it's ambiguous resplendence.
Looking around I realise that I'm now not alone...
There are many vessels...
Quiet silhouettes navigating boats of their own.
We all bear the same flag but our own demons we wrestle.
Overwhelming relief...
To see others by my side.
I am now alone with so many others...
In this lonesome boatride.
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 11:23 AM UTC
Tingly under the daisies;
Glassy-eyed, glazed, greasy;
Shaking, shivering, shuddering,
Wishing, wandering, whimpering,
Westernizing—
Romanizing—
Constitutionalizing—
Institutionalizing—
Perpetually searching
And dying
And living,
Watching Death survive
And scythe the frolickers,
The prancers,
The rompers,
The merrymakers.
A rose clamped between his
Grinning teeth glistens brightly,
And he dances so joyously.
“Yes!” say the naysayers,
Confused are the soothsayers,
Lost are the cartographers.
Oh, Utopia!
The monks are extravagant;
The meditations are a farce!
The preachers are beggars
And swindlers and chargers,
And Machiavelli fulfills his wishes!
Babies are stillborn, stabbed, and
Ritualistically sacrificed,
And their blood is spilled, drunk,
Slathered over the ***** man.
The evangelists scream and lie:
“You are all predestined to die!”
Oh, hail Utopia!
Wedded are the girls to the girls;
Wedded are the boys to the boys;
Wedded is Death to Death,
Life to Life,
And Life to Death.
Wedded are the living to the existent.
And the milking babes are slaughtered
Ceremoniously,
Surreptitiously,
Ostentatiously.
Oh, hail great Utopia!
We are all dead and unintelligent:
Laugh, laugh, Einstein, at your
Stupidity.
Laugh, laugh, Temple Grandin at
Your retardation.
Laugh, laugh, laugh!
Look at the sluggard, thou ant;
Look at the boy, sobbing wolf;
Aesop was drunk,
Aristotle was delusional,
Michelangelo was blind,
Beethoven could hear,
Poe was sane.
And I can't read.
They ramble,
I watch.
They sleep,
I watch.
They dream,
I watch.
They sleep-talk,
I watch.
They scream,
I watch.
They choke,
I watch.
They suffocate,
I watch.
Stone-faced, I stare;
Raspingly, I breathe;
Uncontrollably, I twitch;
Inwardly, I rage.
I hope you die, I hope you die.
I hope you bleed, I hope you die.
I want you begging and crying,
I want you blubbering at my feet,
I want you gnashing at my ankles,
I want you writhing in pain,
I want your arm twisted off,
Cracking with the snapping sinews, I want your beating heart in my hands, I want your genitals uprooted and stuffed in your throat, I want your stomach so I can eat the still-digesting food, I want your shrunken head and I want to force my thumbs into your unblinking eyes and I want to tear your face in two and I want you to die, I want you to die, I want you to die, I want you to die, I want you to die, I want you to die, I want you to die, I want you to die, to die, to die, to die, to die, to die, to die, to die, to die, to die and die and die and die and die and die and die and die and die and die and die and die and die and die.
Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 9:47 PM UTC
i guess i still miss you
but talking’s for functioning people
when we stand stark
at the vertices of our dog days
we don’t say anything at all
in uncharted autumn
we still have a little sun left
trying to make sense
of the irregularities that compact
this relationship
into tiny little boxes we check
every once and awhile
ostentatiously
Oct 1, 2018
Oct 1, 2018 at 2:12 PM UTC
So
You've found a girl who can hold your gaze
You've found a girl with those sinful curves
that girl with the lips that you want sayin' your name
Oh she's beautiful alright. How did you get so lucky?
Maybe you're not as lucky as you think you are?
Does being
luscious, limber, lavacious, and alluringly lustworthy
make up for being
lewd, lethargic, and a lackadaisical liar?
So what that she's
ogle-worthy, optically pleasing, orgasmically ideal
if she's
offensive, ostentatiously ornate, and overbearing?
She may be
vivacious, voluptuous, and sexually voracious
She's also
vain, vapid, vacuous, a vengeful *****
Don't let her
exotic, ****** efficaciousness
Blind you to her
egocentric, evasive, envious nature
Those lips won't look so enticing when they're spitting poison barbs into your heart
Wouldn't you rather have a girl
Who is likeable?
Who is original?
Who is vibrant?
Who is enough to make you happy?
It's all you need
Do I have to spell it out for you?
Jul 17, 2013
Jul 17, 2013 at 8:56 PM UTC
A chaotically crooked place
Filled with agony
And ostentatiously sunny days
With scrapheaps of misery
It's the only place we have
And the only place that ever will be.
In wrongness, are we to remain as slaves
Till we go down in history?
Sep 28, 2014
Sep 28, 2014 at 6:29 AM UTC
Gallantry, the heart cannot entail,
Obscene and crude, blood formed as hail,
Ostentatiously coy, the maidens call,
Dissecting my spirit, your eyes enthrall,
Beloved your lips, I so long to kiss,
Yielding hope, begin to reminisce,
Enchanting laugh, music of Apollo,
Jasmine scent, unknowingly hollow,
Offering a goddess, pure gift of light
Consuming my heart, with nothing but spite,
Eyes of topaz, god’s gift to my world,
Lust mistaken as love, mind unfurled,
Youth is a curse, for a heart in distress,
Never will i know, your lips to caress
Dec 9, 2009
Dec 9, 2009 at 10:42 PM UTC
President ****
A massive old grump
Talks like a garbage dump.
Throws the country into a slump.
Has no heart to go thump.
Gave racism a big jump.
Gathered fascists into a clump.
Now we all have to ****
He should be inconsequential
As he has no credentials.
Nothing presidential.
Statesmanship? Purely residential.
He’s mostly pestilential.
No morals evidential.
Facts ruled non-essential
To mindless millennials.
Suddenly he has at hand
The highest office in the land.
Confetti and a brass band.
No ceremony is too grand.
The laws he doesn’t understand
With money ostentatiously fanned
He showed he had the winning hand
But still can’t spell words like ampersand.
Now we’ve made him king of all
Among villains he will stand tall.
We should give Ghostbusters a call.
This **** has us against a wall.
A wall to be built that will surely fall
But for now he is having a ball
With American bigots in full thrall,
Their white God has heard their call.
Jan 10, 2017
Jan 10, 2017 at 2:45 PM UTC
Classes clash and collapse in collective implosion
The lower estates plant their insignia
ostentatiously on heaps of men
after storming the Bastille
to make way for the malady of the mitrailleuse
and celebration of Entente supremacy.
Clemenceau rise in rank as the
bodies of Flers-Courcelette stank.
Villains of the Devil's backwash
Slap you lightly on the hand
before commanding your neck
to the narrow stand
of the Guillotine.
Blood alone drives
the infinite rolling barrage of atrocious folly.
Liberté, égalité, fraternité
**Keep calm
and
carry
on**
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 9:51 PM UTC
Dogs roam the streets,
Scraping out a meager living
From the scraps thrown out of windows.
There is a house
In the middle of all the others.
In this house
Lives a man,
A man who watches the dogs,
Tosses them food
So that they would not starve.
At times he approaches a dog,
Talks gently and soothingly—
Though he can rebuke them harshly,
But only if need be—
And he will invite the dog into his home,
But the dog has the final say.
The dogs decide whether to follow
And even when to leave.
But the man is patient.
He will wait as long as necessary.
At times he will change his tactics
And send some of his dogs out
To mingle with the wild ones.
His dogs proudly wear the collars he gave them.
They befriend the wild dogs,
Sometimes ostentatiously flashing the collar,
Sometimes just wearing it
Until another dog shows interest.
At night they return to the man’s house,
Curl up by his fire,
Full from his bread and wine.
And sometimes, a wild dog
Will follow one of the man’s dogs home.
There are dogs who leave the house
And never return.
There are dogs who fashion a collar
Similar to the ones the man makes
And they wear it
And say they are of the man’s home,
But they are no more
Than the wild dogs among whom they live.
However, the man is patient.
He forgives them.
He still tosses them food,
Still heals them,
Still speaks gently,
Still awaits the day
When the join him in his home.
Jul 25, 2014
Jul 25, 2014 at 6:00 PM UTC
the pain
of having to let you
go your way
after such loving days
pulls my face
into a joyous smile
makes me speak
words of reassurance
crack jokes
ostentatiously enjoy
a Manhattan at lunch time
and boisterously hug you
au revoir
anything
to overcome
unshed tears
the hardening lump in my chest
the tightening knot in my stomach
the cold fist that grips my neck
tightens my throat
makes my eyes dry
with the knowledge
you will not be
by my side
for weeks
* * *
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 8:28 PM UTC
The Moon is cratered, crying desperation,
the marks on her skin stretch far beyond all impacts--
Her orbiting celestial guidance a withering pawn,
moving ostentatiously across the fields of our minds
and motivating sorrowful inspiration into all those
who wish to share her connection with the heavens.
The Moon is grey and deficient of life,
coated only with mounds of crumbled featureless dust
and razorous peaked mountains which shelter none.
Her craters are of magnitude unmatched, and
carrying the memories of eventless imprints,
affecting sentient beings null and watched by the same.
And the space rocks may crash into the Moon indefinitely,
and the only while we will stop in our engagements
is when she has finally been obliterated and the
tides of the oceans gone mad, and the spin of our earth
drastically distorted;
and the calamity will be unparalleled where finally
we may feel the bleak and distressed nature of this rock,
and we may watch gallantly as everything we ever knew
is destroyed completely, along with our legacy and our
self-important views.
The moon she will fade away into oblivion, and we will
travel with her into the dark of the infinite sky.
Dec 24, 2012
Dec 24, 2012 at 12:23 PM UTC
Very, verily
I see the
Coming
Kisses, though
Imaginary.
Because of
A word
Sweet,
Harmonious,
Ostentatiously stated-
Resounded!
May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 9:58 PM UTC
If I could tip toe on the edges of the universe.
I'd do it ostentatiously with a top hat and orange shoes.
If I could slide down a rainbow I'd do so in a dicky bow.
If I could walk on water, I'd play the banjo
If I could travel though time I'd drop you line 'I wish you were here'
I'd arrange a 5th dimensional candle lit dinner
If we could stay together forever and ever, I'd throw in another century just for good measure.
Jan 11, 2017
Jan 11, 2017 at 7:18 PM UTC
It is only at 2am when you will realise
You might have gone too far
You will get up to brush your hair
Feel your body almost give way
And nearly succumb to blackness
Mounting the window to **** down another cigarette
You will realise you kept nothing down
And haven't even tried to for six hours
You will realise you're awake and always are
When the rest of the world sleeps
Because some manic desire for deprivation
Keeps your bloodshot eyes pinned open
You will chew another stick of gum
Tainted by smoke and diet soda
And almost smile as you notice
You ostentatiously pretended to be trying
You've listened to chords and turned
Page after page and turned off your phone
But you're clinging to insomnia just like
You hang on to starvation as gratification
And some justification of your existence
You will burn your back on the radiator
That you're secretly glad is broken
And stuck on max because you are always
Cold as if you were winter itself
And the marrow of your bones is ice water
You will stare at your sternum and ribcage
And seek your hipbones in the mirror
Only to be frustrated because you
Still can't wrap your fingers round your arms
You will almost smell everything you wish
You could eat and not need to throw up
You feel your bones ache and stiffen
And think maybe you really let yourself go
You will think of what to eat tomorrow
Realise you'd rather drink coffee
And you made plans so as to avoid food
You will have moved it all downstairs
In a desperate urge to avoid the binge
And hate yourself for it because now
You have no release and not even blades left
With which to feel something and so
You stare into empty oscillating space
Extinguish your cigarette on arms
Already scarred and cut to pieces
You think to hell with everything and realise
You've really done it this time.
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 7:29 AM UTC
big words can constrict me
leaving little room to wiggle free,
they constrain
unequivocally,
there for show and tell, no doubt!
What can I do with discombobulate
that I can't do with confuse and frustrate?
Or maybe I can postulated
it's just a suggestion
can you relate?
When I say big words,
I meant to say long
cos little words like hope and love have more worth and meaning than floccinaucinihilipilification
Or maybe l'm dumb and use to procrastination
putting off what can be cleverly done.
But if I find a word that's lenghty
and hits the spot just right
I will use it ostentatiously,
or so I might.
Mar 7, 2018
Mar 7, 2018 at 9:24 PM UTC
Lyrics without thought, in this mind quick
to thwart what is an innocent thought
And to reminisce every mistake and fault
ostentatiously, by means to flaunt
There's that familiar sinner in my heart
for the dear me—a red poetic of the hart
I'm so quick in my faith to quickly doubt
despite the flaming desires I have of so much
will to display; but the fears are quick to dout
As the longing to be close to a cost
that of which my purpose is enough the amount
To mount in the fixed place of this mysterious world
lest must I spin my head countless times, and be whirled
As liken to a devilish smile; cheery of guilty cares
must I be trained to despise my lies
And be washed of immortality by a birthed virtues
****** bathed with necessary lyes
I thank Christ for such a sacrifice of an enemy
hoping joyously that he dies
His risen story has imparted a new colour to my
life; a permanent impact as it comes to dyes
As two words can sound and look the same—
steadfast is the love of God to allow me to be
saved by grace. As I often gaze at the words of
how His love remains the same
Unlike the lyrics in my head,
so quick to change
Sep 28, 2022
Sep 28, 2022 at 3:06 PM UTC