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David Nelson Oct 2011
Ostentation or Pomposity

ostentation or pomposity
it doesn't really matter
the self importance in your words
makes your head much fatter

humility and realness
a personality of reaching higher
putting others out in front
are traits that most admire

aloofness or audacity
pretentiousness and vanity
conditions of the ego
shows a loss of true sanity

define it with big words
or make them really small
but your airs or arrogance
will finally lead to your fall

Gomer LePoet ....
A jaundiced adaptation
    of fillers raucous threats

attempts obsolete mimicking
   in a conspicuous pomposity
     of disfigured reckonings  

slipped us the tongue of your
    ostentatious audacity
mid judgmental manifestations

Disengaged, as our eyes grew dim
     ' neath the masquerade
            of multiplex duplicity


**who the ******* do you think you are?
128

Bring me the sunset in a cup,
Reckon the morning’s flagons up
And say how many Dew,
Tell me how far the morning leaps—
Tell me what time the weaver sleeps
Who spun the breadth of blue!

Write me how many notes there be
In the new Robin’s ecstasy
Among astonished boughs—
How many trips the Tortoise makes—
How many cups the Bee partakes,
The Debauchee of Dews!

Also, who laid the Rainbow’s piers,
Also, who leads the docile spheres
By withes of supple blue?
Whose fingers string the stalactite—
Who counts the wampum of the night
To see that none is due?

Who built this little Alban House
And shut the windows down so close
My spirit cannot see?
Who’ll let me out some gala day
With implements to fly away,
Passing Pomposity?
Louise Leger Mar 2014
The entitled ones:

Snotty, stuck up, rude

Nasty, spoiled prudes

Your misery, their fun



Loosen up your buns, entitled ones

‘Cause I am in no mood

To harbor your attitude

And snooty snippy sayings sung



The desk between us that which divides

Does not right you to be snide

Entitled ones need not apply

Entitled are entitled nigh



The ones who earn entitlement

Are the ones who give respect

Possessors of this enlightenment

Such respect is what they’ll get



Treat your servers as you will with such level of pomposity

But understand that I abide by way of reciprocity
Avantika Singhal Oct 2015
There's a virulent disease
inside him. It pervades every
where. It invades him. The
toxic cells exist in every nook
and crevice. He starts wondering
whether his soul and body will
suffice and live through the
brutal treatments that await.
Radiotherapy or chemo. A
part of himself could be lost in the
pomposity and elaborateness
of the machines used to do so.
He lies on the bed, surrounded
by the ostensibly loved ones
who mourn now and who hated
him once. He looks back at
his life and feels that getting
back to his healthy, strong self
is a chimera. Days pass and his
bed is his sanctuary. The reports
from the doctors arrive and he is
all but stationary. He finds the
concept of reports funny. They
determine life and death in a
second and after that, life could
be jubilant or miry with hopelessness.
The reports clearly indicate that
"cancer was not detected". He
scoffs at the elaborate medical
language and sits back and
relaxes, concluding his close
call with death and an emotional mess.
Not letting the intimidation and
sinister nature of the diseases get to him.
Jacob Oates Oct 2013
Confide in me

the irony

of laughter as a crutch to keep

with self descriptive Bildungsroman

in view of Schadenfreude's Ad hominem

Mask the image, compensate, compensate

Power struggle, shift division, relegate, relegate

Egocentric discharges inhabited by identity crisis

Circumstantial Deus ex machina, plastered on by streams of vices

No wreck, no head on, but a path beset by tolls and diversions

Somehow I must find a way to make these scattered routes converge

Dead and othered language roams the fields of pomposity

More ironic self aggrandizement, an appropriation of ferocity

Paint them a picture in the mind's eye of your blurred forward vision

I want to see the target marked, but attention is a competition

I'm Viable, I'm Jovial, I have the means to take these chances

I'm lying now, it's one or the other, let's hope I make the right advances
Extra...extra...Trumpasaurus Extinction

(Only a pipe dream)
Obsolete "FAKE" news
Extra...extra...Trumpasaurus Extinction,
Now Putin Rules As De Facto Leader!

Pastor Of Muppets – shout huzzah...
no mo' Trump he's Gone er re: ya
especially “father figure” for Miss Piggy
-----------------------------------------------------------­----
More'n a ***** dozen deeds done dirt cheap moon units ago
since presidential election took us down the highway to hell  
emotional, social repercussions still reverberate
how reprobate Trump triumphed

graduating magma *** lug head
to become leader of free world
acing highest score (via cribbed cheat sheet)
per Electoral College examination.
noah yam aghast (still feel nauseated) as
Donald trump got nominated president elect,

or more apropos an inept apprentice,
though a teetotaler delirium tremens,
brings corporeal bris
ling foretelling premonition
oven approaching crisis
as one basket of deplorable,

whose shell shocked eggs ess
tints did not peter out
re: fate rigged 2016 election appalled hike con fess
at prospect outsize bully nabbed
most sought after house seat - ugh guess

thine psyche fearful that arrogance, indecency,
pomposity, and vivacity will break ranks and restore Hess
shun militaristic modus operandi crowning himself
King Kong of amerika - applauded
by a *** dread locked Klansmen less
or more, with spirit of a jolly roger intent

shredding sacred documents, and creating a mess;
ages will require to restore righteous, and officious,
amazing gracious steeped ford did legacy
of forefathers and mothers
(against trump driving the country
into wah hell in a hand basket),

which democratic rubric Paine stay king lee
easel lee trampled oh press
sieve lee in sync with missteps
made during on the job training

at national ex pence augments ominous
ramping up of tess toss tear roan,
wherefore if happenstance finds Czech mated express
train tearing down the tracts,
we the people of the United States might vouchsafe
for a veep ping Petsmart prodigy to take over - YES!
-  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -
Reince Priebus promises to hold sway,
while hi yam rez hind tune augur
race shin, more than approximately 300 hours ago,
a fate worse than death doth bode

despite hangover lingering effect
unable to shake mice elf sober
despite chugging nary an ale
memory summons back,

hide dashed hoof well-healed poem express
sing reaction while shuttered in me man cave dale
how Democratic Party did fail
to clinch nomination,

thus with measured words this male
wants to air and share his non-rapacious sentiments
others no doubt harbor various
seas sinned reactions that might pale

in terms - their private tear ring expressions
explicitly rant and rail against unexpected
and unacceptable result, where scale
of moderation heavily tilted
toward possible global travail

armaments stacked as thee Barron doth un veil
bombardiers carpet bomb
(whoops....accidentally kilt Trump heathen)
while manning his Taj Mahal casino gun whale.
-  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -
-  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -
ABOUT ONE MILLENNIUM LATER
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what cha red back in history class i.e. yes...
that traitorous treacherous treasonous tale,
but truth told since time immemorial
whom sever decreed demise
of terrible lizard beasts aye

moost upend long entrenched theory,
and bid good bye
sans foursquare extinction reeks foul,
cuz one pea brained reptilian

o’er shadowed all as fiercest, he ranged free
amidst a cut throat rogues gallery
thee unnamable overlooked
sinister species sought supremacy

(gamut of miniature game pieces
model available at sundry department stores
wherever schlocky plastic model toys sold)
popular trapping of childhood imagination –

imbue vainglorious ventriloquist
inciting fiendish cry
such kiddy paraphernalia
forever a top selling plaything
snapped off shelves leaving allocated space bone dry.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Since time immemorial dinosaur makeshift gewgaws
did cap cha ominous jaws,
and populated fertile land of cave dwellers
whereat swaddled kinder babes bellowed believable
farcically feigned ferocious fabrications foraging bankrupt

foretold foreclosure to espy real McCoy
perhaps assembled from mud, rocks and sticks
noisome predators snatching
voice some innocent prey  -

ripping to tatters and shreds
unlucky victim rarely escaping
in fizz hicks of time – witnessed first hand proof positive
how I came that close (pinch thumb with index finger)

simian snack aye haint fool’n witch cha,
nar doth this medieval troubadour –
spin a yarn approximating
verity of nasty Hobbesian brute

trumpeting fiercely bruited
his bombastic buzz hard
carrion feed small fry to Golgotha donning topface,
could dice in a flickr emulate, and twitter

rang one excited live hotmail riding Pegasus,
while those in his Isis Petsmart warpath
on outlook to avoid get linkedin,
per imp (of the pervert) pale’n maws

simultaneously masticating and able to shutterfly
hither and yon, to and fro rousing
seditious twittering rogues gallery
of reprobate ruthless minions -

ruminants to become  apprenticed
fired up en mass thru the art of the deal
vis a vis venal pet peeves
pygmy male hominids revered
his racially stirred debacle

while straddling as a humungous towering hill,
he pill or reedlike lex Lucifer usurpation,
whence auld dish diehard don nah sore
dominated as demented species,

thus, he didst not perish from this earth
boot yielded rubric of emperor by the peep hole,
four the pea pull, of the peep pill.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
This older ville lad spurs rumor -
more than just food for thought or eating crow
does generate quite a wishful after thought to flow
whence sum divine

wind blown comedic act, an inflow
of furies rise from Dante's hell - don bell low
aye wood pine fate to hammer
sic culled swathed headline oh
brings joy to the world wide webbed land,

where Rob zombie i.e. Ivan Ca Rho
into dustbin of hiss tory;
stuffing of legions of legends
recollection and object lesson to hooligans woe
full derelicts, who might be forced
to cease clowning around like - bo Zoë.
Nat Lipstadt Jun 2013
How To Dress For My Funeral



black or white, hot n'pink,
lavender always a fav,
at a fun funeral rave,
lacy or plain, your choice,
tho clean would be nice,
won't matter to me very much,
the color of your underwear.
but do not fail to recall, the dead,
their vision keen, can see all!

funeral gravity rules to be strictly observed,
snickering and giggling to commence in the
back row, when holy pomposity gets uttered,
let it wend its way forward from the aft,
until y'all better be
laughing your ***** off

anyone who chooses to speak,
must commence with words,
"Did ya hear the one about"
or be haunted by my spectral shadow
tickling both feet at midnight, or,
worse yet, reciting this awful poem
in their head, like Henry the Eighth,
I am, I am

perhaps a hora dance might be nice,
a mamba line, butts,  holy rolling n'shaking,
past rows of rock n' rolling tombstones, guitar-playing
some Metallica,
while the rabbi intones somberly,
Let's get this party started, gad ******!

if my untimely hour should arrive in July,
I humbly request that flip flops be the ped-modality,
if January should be my season
of absence treasoned, use some reason,
please stay home, and let the paid professionals
suffer in fine phony, professional, seasonal frigidity

at the post partum party, should that occur,
I humbly repast request, barbecue be the cuisine,
in the hopes you all recall to place
a generous helping, repeat, generous helping,
inside my sauce- proof pine wood casket,
with extra napkins for the long trip ahead

now these are all post hypnotic, post breathing,
helpful suggestions, not requirements,
but honor or disparage, cry or vent,
curse or bless my perma-absence,
don't matter to me, as long as somebody
reads this manifesto at the festivities, first and last.
ConnectHook Sep 2015
☺☻☺☻

When painters who paint about painting
meet writers who write about writing,
self-conscious redundancy
bordering lunacy
ends in esthetic in-fighting.

These modernists, right about nothing
(mostly nihilists mad about something)
are so lost in the process
they vent all their excess
in metacognition: dull writing.

You poets who muse about musing –
unaware you are reader-abusing,
provide a terrific
verbose soporific,
yet not of the hearer’s own choosing…

I long for some righteous verbosity –
but I’m stifled by all the pomposity.
This dull erudition,
“sub-metacognition”,
is but an artistic atrocity.

You thinkers who think about thinking
drag my spirit far lower than sinking.
What we want is a Word
which we haven’t yet heard –
so till then I’ll just drink about drinking.
https://connecthook.wordpress.com/

☺☻☺☻☺☻
Seán Mac Falls Dec 2014
O how HP reeks  .  .  .
In pit distorting beauty,
Small gnat is giant.
fiona fenn Jan 2012
When did hating myself become such an art?

I am the Da Vinci of self loathing
aiding in the rebirth of shame and inadequacy

After breathing, it is the thing I do most in life

I don't quite recall when my childhood ended
Innocence, hope, love and happiness
were victims of it's downfall

I was a passionate child and now a passionless adult
Obliterated by the home truths of life

I see smiling faces and hear joyful laughter
They are content

I ask in a world
with unimaginable suffering and gross poverty
how anyone can be content with being content

It is a perplexing affair
as you see I am not without
my pomposity and hypocrisy

It is hard to live an ordinary life
when you feel you are destined for extraordinary things
but extraordinary is for the others
the rich, the beautiful, the exceptionally gifted

I am none of these things

Yet how come this underlying
undeniable, unrelenting, overwhelming feeling
burns through me
like a match reaching it's cindered fulfillment
that I am destined for those extraordinary things

I feel I am nothing
but I am something
a human being
In this world
with mind, body and emotion

Alas there it is again
emotion, my emotion
my pitiful yet unwavering hatred of the only one thing
I truly have and need,
myself.
Vijaya Balan Nov 2014
Painted pictures come to life,
Twirling landscapes with subliminal words,
He gestures back and forth with life,
The white canvass transforms into a palette

You stood on the inside,
Wanting to go out,
You watched from the inside,
Wishing you were someone else

He’s driven around in a limousine,
With a stack of green bills to light his cigar,
He’s got it made and does not know you exist,
He dines with pomposity and drinks in gold

You stood on the outside,
Watching him dine and wine,
You watched from the outside,
Wishing you were sitting there.

She was a model, thin and tall,
Brawny and bright with a flair of the fair,
She smiled and danced, gyrating her hips
She partied until she could no more

You stood on the outside,
You wished you had her life,
You watched from the outside,
Wishing someone invited you
To life’s grand celebration

You did not know though,
The model died of drug abuse,
The tycoon was murdered,
And the artist…ahh the Artist!
That was you…that was you first and foremost
You forgot and you deviated!
You re-arranged your priorities

And now…and now
You stand on the outside,
You no longer can watch the world go by,
You no longer can wish,
You in a wooden coffin,
Being laid to rest.

You died yesterday,
Poisoned with affection
By someone who stood by
And watched you from the outside

Vijaya Balan (2009)
Matthew James May 2016
Why does nobody do anything?
Why does nobody do anything?

Live for the weekend
Watch TV
Live for the weekend
Watch TV
Out on the town for the weekend
Watch TV Watch TV

Why does nobody do anything?
Why does nobody do anything?

Escape into your escapism
Get lost in your escapism
Trust in your escapism
Get trapped into escapism
Escape from your escapism
Escape from your self made prison
Escape the acceptance that's arisen

Why does nobody do anything?
Why does nobody do anything?

We're
Drones Robotics
Clones on antibiotics
Zoned hypnotic
Habitually ******
Artificially exotic

Why does nobody do anything?
Why does nobody do anything?

You're watching your *** life on Tv
A package holiday - pretend to be free
Post on Facebook how life should be
Focus your kids on getting a C
Lurching towards you - Hollow eyes
Pale Gaunt - Fed on lies
In systems that we all despise
Because you sat at home on your own
Or In a pub over grub
Or on a phone having a moan
Or a coffee shop pontificating
Or a lecture cleverly debating
Or an artists studio 'creating'
But you didn't ******* do anything did you?
You thought about it
You talked about it
You sat and maybe wrote about it
But you actually DID nought about it

Why does nobody do anything?
Why does nobody do anything?

What if we in our liberal pomposity
Followed up our curiosity
And put an end to a small atrocity
Instead of deliberating the big ones
Stop ******* telling people they're wrong and get off your **** and prove it.

Do something.
Nat Lipstadt Feb 2015
a shredded bath mat, a Dead Sea salted bath, and a cold root beer
you want vino veritas vignettes,
color commentary, stray dog thoughts
time lapsed into a ****** single poem wood,
ha ha ha you can't handle the falsified lies
that constitute a sad man's disfigured truths

nobody cares that failure contretemps
inhabit every other thought,
his own sounds of silence sung repetitiously,
every severed second a new verse
coughed up and cursed,
emptying your verbal purse,
snorting with disgust
at your own claptrap vetted pomposity,
who gives a ****...

what I got is the ability
if you can call it that,
to cerebralize verbalize
every eye picture, inputted impulse,
knowing in the fullness of the unwell
that hash for breakfast ain't
suitable for mass consumption

a shredded bath mat,
a Dead Sea salted bath,
and a cold root beer
begat a poem of knowing nowing
a pretend poet meowing what he seen,
what he got temple pounding

Fogelberg sings Auld Lang Syne,
swig down the root beer,
thinking that is one freaking good song,
a life reviewed on the HP stage,

his lyrics modified
with only a tune he can hear

no one will like this,
as it should be,
don't like it me neither,
double negatives for rule busting emphasis,
the only point, ending circumscribed,
curcumsized  by children who don't love,
an ex wife hateful ***** man-enslaver,
this close || to losing your job,
*** is the new ***,
ain't it pc
to singalong
standing on a shredded bath mat,
fresh from a Dead Sea salted bath,
and having drunk a cold root beer,
Crosby Stills & Nash chiming in
teach the children well
their father's hell
will slowly go bye


and this is a poem

that I didn't write,
just reported the here and the there,
and the nothing in between
Shantha May 2013
Is she defined by her virginity or her fertility?
Do you deem her useful because of her womb or her worth?
Or is her womb her worth?

If she made the choice to dIe without bringing child,
is she still woman or an unfinished human?
Is the accident of her gender the definition of her life remainder?
Answer this and answer loud.

Selfish you say, when she wishes to live on her own terms.
Unnatural to keep at bay, Nature.
Do you deny her the choices others exercise,
free from pressure and thoughtless in nature?

If she brings life in, she will decide all to it.
For all your pomposity you shall not
induce it or force it.

She does not threaten to extinguish but merely
ask that understanding be in plenty for you do not
can not know or see within.
Christos Rigakos Feb 2014
She stood atop her balcony and stared,
Beyond the masses fawning at her face.
She raised a stoic chin  frozen in place,
A porcelain visage emotions spared.

While all around pomposity adorned,
With brightly colored fabrics, silver sets,
Gold, diamonds, gems and pompous little pets,
All things of which the huddled poor were scorned.

The centuries' tradition well remains,
Ingrained such that even the poor decree,
The rulers rule, the ruled should not be seen.

Yet none the privileged logically explains,
The separation's needed wide degree,
Why God who's blessed should more so save the Queen.

(C)2014, Christos Rigakos
Indefinable Sonnet
topaz oreilly Dec 2012
abjectness is a form of inroads
toil the Woodlands Trust
all hail no coppiced beeches,
my first sighted R.S.P.B Avocet
the perplexed scale comparable
to competing blank stares,
endorphins withstanding,
clueless  and unconscionable
instinctual pomposity
suffers Nature's either
way.
drumhound Oct 2013
My mother named me
                            for no good reason.

There was no fireman hero,
     no reknown global leader,
          nor an astronaut Stephen
          setting his foot on the moon.
It wasn't even her stylist whom she honored
as he kept her trusted secrets.

The roulette wheel of monikers
whirred uninterestedly past
Michael
David
John
Robert
Mark
Mitchell
Glen
(and thankfully) Carl
and surrendered its last click
     on the formal of Steve
                                     with a "ph".

                       It was haplessly indifferent
     in the way it came be.
                  A last grasp of titles
                                       as they pushed her out
                             the hospital doors.

I have a friend whose name
was never in question.
     He was a fifth,
                       as in William V.
The Ist was proud,
             so proud that he named the IInd.
     The IInd an heir,
                so he named the IIIrd.
            The IIIrd obliged,
                          and so the IVth.
                    The IVth weary from fighting
                                the previous I's
                                and hence, the V...
as in William V,
                          as in flavorless,
                          pomposity faded,
                          worn like a hand-me-down
                                    dress shirt through five generations
                                              bereft of shape and dignity and fit.

     He wished he had his own name -

                         I did.

     And I found my name
     free to be
     designed to the only son
     my mom ever had -
                                to be as grand or plain
                       as I constructed it to be.

This one-size-fits-me tag
                      Stephen Dane Roberson
                                  is the Ist
                                              and only.
     A name that I love
          because it is filled
               with all the stuff I put in it;
and that stuff is me...

a me I wanted to be when I grew up :-)
The priests could not be bothered to talk to me..
..as the Bishop took them off for tea..in their finery
Eating roast sham and drinking champagne..
..down by the river in the refurbished winery.

And this I felt as I knelt down to pray.
Religion is dead
It just doesn't pay.

And the rosaries become hypocrisies..
..this I understand.
It was never planned but the pomposity of ceremony..
..and the incense they burned
Turned..me cold.

I believe that God does exist..though the richness of the clergy..
..is like an allergy to me.
I want the church to be free for the saint and the sinner
And dinner for everyone.
Let charity begin from the place where it started.
Charity..alas has become so hard hearted..
..and it tightens its belt.
All this I felt as I knelt down to pray.
Bus Poet Stop Apr 2015
Ha ha on me.   eye still have a full head, of laughing hair...


eye am vain like you, and though advancing steadily with daily doses of aging, and since I am titanicaly nearer my God than thee, i.e. the finish line...end of days...whatever...having a nice head of hair is a happy happenstance for nothing "ages" an immature person faster than a lack or absence of hair....

some say it is all genetic....could be...but my theory is different...I laugh at myself all the time...my foolish words, my creasing vices, my dastardly prejudices, are absurd in extremis...and am in possession of a willingness to be the **** of my own humor to bring creased smiles in others's to the fore...

though serious, I don't  take myself seriously...and this self disrespect means I laugh at my own pomposity, posterior and peculiarly peculiar peculiarities.

So I laugh a lot as I am one of those idiots who reflects on the state of himself and goes, eye eye eye!

the laughing releases a dosed vial of special testosterone which makes my hair grow and since I fully expect much sorrow and to be living homeless, on the streets, in my end of days, the fact that I will have a full head of hair as I go down into my grave makes me laugh which releases....

ha ha on me
Obadiah Grey Dec 2011
I hurple t'ward the Wabbit Warren
of pomposity;
a reynard of levity,
lost.

lollop,,,,,,,, that's a good word innit?
Brother Jimmy Apr 2015
Look for me in spite of what you see

Stop drifting leeward, keep an eye on the goal

Quicken all your senses and tune me in

I will do my best to soothe your soul



Despite this illusion that is now fooling you

I know you and love coming
   to the rescue

The things you’re seeing now
   aren’t quite the true

Each event is perfect
   from a certain point of view



Way past the spectrum range
   that’s audible

Block out the extraneous to get an inner vision

Tune in your ears, this frequency is laudable

My voice will make the fusion; my eyes will make the fission



So before you try to smell the flowers from underneath

Before you take that J. Urbonas rollercoaster ride

Visualize your picture of the spirit with the wreath

And try and try to follow
sans pomposity or pride



Illusion has within it, a glimmer of the real

An imperfect model of what’s there when we break through

Don’t be guided only by the feelings that you feel

Nor by the coldness of the calculating you
Obadiah Grey Jul 2012
I  hurple t'ward the
Wabbit Warren of pomposity -
a Reynard of levity -
lost
Brent Kincaid Apr 2016
I want to wake up when I want
And then slowly get to my feet.
I want to have a breakfast
That is very much like a treat.
I want to dawdle over my coffee
And take lazy, leisurely stock.
And, I want to do all of this
Without waking to a clock.

For I hate that awful buzzing
That it takes to shake me awake.
I find the racket ruins dreams
And is too much for me to take.
I want to sit where late morning
Sends its sweet shine in on me
While I sup and sip and dine
Like a member of royalty.

Oh, I am not so snooty myself
That I don’t prepare this repast
With my own two clever hands
And at that, amazingly fast.
It’s almost like my hands want
To hide from my waking mind
That the meal I am having is not
Not the made by Ritz-Carlton kind.

I want to waken to cognizance
In a particularly decadent way.
I find it totally disgusting to
Rush madly into any given day.
I’d sit in smoking jacket and slippers
If I had such magazine attire.
And if it were chilly upon rising
I would magically manifest a fire.

Of course I don’t have a fireplace
To go right along with plain jammies
So instead of brocade robes and such
I very short of mystical whammies.
I can’t witch up this storybook stuff
Of class A, high-class pomposity.
But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t wish
To have it all appear before me.
Raj Arumugam Oct 2010
I am content here
in my open
with the trees and the birds that sing
and the clouds above
and the moon that radiates at night;
and the feel of the warmth of the sun on my
arms and chest and legs
and the feel of the cool water
on my face;
not for me all the revelations
and the vanities
and the theories
and the pomposity
of the life here
and the life hereafter;
for I am content here
in my open
with the trees and the birds that sing
Josh Kizax Oct 2020
"Perhaps, Martin Luther King never had a dream,
but he had seen a dream.!!!"
This is a description of my theme;
Rhemes of his speech gathered steam,
which stimulate and create a remembered stream,
" I have a dream.!"

Nowadays, dreams are not the ones you get from a slumber steep,
but are those that deprive you of sleep.
I hope that one day our countries will no longer appoint leaders again, based on their individual gain.

Apart from their political parties, they come from,
but due to one single universal party, we are all going to form
Neither, for the agenda of their race, color nor religions,
But with an organized calendar, and tremendous visions.

The day we shouldn't be interested in their background stories;
popularity, prestige, and their wealthy glories.
not even their power, pomposity storied-houses.
Despite being the lineage of dynamic dynasties,
but just a human being with the visionary eyes for minorities'

One who should not focus on celebrities and Hollywood Stars,
but will celebrate with poverty-stricken, take them as the stars,
well recognized as the sons of the Sun'
helping the country economy shines,

Am looking forward to the election days,
The national quadrennial event, Tuesdays.
our voices will bring impact through our votes.
When we shall elect mentors, role models and not our Idols,

Am looking toward the day the financial crisis will fall through
when our leader's mission comes through.
Focusing on the fact of where they are heading us to,
and where they are taking our dreams too.

The dreams for our country's bright.
Rights and freedom for our countryside,
the ease for our forefathers' long century sight.
I can't wait for that day indeed,
my dreams will no longer be just like a dream,
but actually, film-strip with its factual receipt.
This is a dream of which I hope will inspire all those who are seeking change. As we are going for our coming election on Tuesday 2, Nov 2020. I hope this will help you determine, and have you make the best decision ever when voting for our leaders. be inspired
a m a n d a Mar 2014
access to all things
privilege in my birth
resplendent in layers of blue
ties to no
thing

but i choose
my binding
i choose
my path

the storm has come
the winter is here
and i will shield
with my superpower
whomever i choose

i will warm this
stupid frozen earth with
golden light
and no one will
question
my intent

no one
will question the
sheer pomposity
of my will
and the
truth too complex
to name
(beating ferociously in my chest)

i am not amused
my strength in
my words
you will hear me
my love  
is a steadfast light.
Chaz Kirshcmann Dec 2013
Im gone
turn me around
succumbed to pomposity
all i think about is success city

life is just a challange
gift from him
i am him
ya
thats right
its all me

give till im dead
thats my plea
hate seeing species hate
im here for progression

whats up with this fake?
replace fear with a blunt
i like it raw
reality is how i draw
any canvas i want to unfold
hold, make glow, and show to every inch of mind in the scene
planet earth is what i mean,
thats the lives.
Vijaya Balan Feb 2017
Painted pictures come to life,
Twirling landscapes with subliminal words,
He gestures back and forth with life,
The white canvass transforms into a palette

You stood on the inside,
Wanting to go out,
You watched from the inside,
Wishing you were someone else

He’s driven around in a limousine,
With a stack of green bills to light his cigar,
He’s got it made and does not know you exist,
He dines with pomposity and drinks in gold

You stood on the outside,
Watching him dine and wine,
You watched from the outside,
Wishing you was sitting there.

She was a model, thin and tall,
Brawny and bright with a flair of the fair,
She smiled and danced, gyrating her hips
She partied until she could no more

You stood on the outside,
You wished you had her life,
You watched from the outside,
Wishing someone invited you
To life’s grand celebration

You did not know though,
The model died of drug abuse,
The tycoon was murdered,
And the artist…ahh the Artist!
That was you…that was you first and foremost
You forgot and you deviated!
You re-arranged your priorities

And now…and now
You stand on the outside,
You no longer can watch the world go by,
You no longer can wish,
You in a wooden coffin,
Being laid to rest.

You died yesterday,
Poisoned with affection
By someone who stood by
And watched you from the outside
formerly known as "Me,watching you"
My need to write is like a prizefight
One scribe, one pen enters the book
Hopefully hundreds will turn up for a look!
If not the fight hasn't been in vain, I'll probably
realise my pomposity, at pretending to be a prodigy!

Consciously though I prophesy this, my right wrist
in all honesty, couldn't conduct a pen to solve a mystery!
Yet, still my need to scribble words overtakes sense,
hence, at the pretence of being a poet, I actually don't know it!
That last bit rhymed!
© JLB
(20 minute poetry)

Starred
from left to right
you'll see
all manner of pomposity
and the top hat ****.

It brings me out in little spots
a bright red rash, but
this won't stop me
having fits.

They say that pomp and circumstance
is an ancient anthem.
I say, never, no and
not a chance.

Waterloo.

I've met them there
men who wouldn't smile
or share
a crust of bread,
men who thought they knew it all,
at Waterloo, I watched them fall into despair,
and I met myself there years ago,
older now
that's why I know
how the story goes.

All men were created equal until
Spielberg made the sequel and
then when the **** hit the fan,
we watch to see
which man comes up smelling of
Frankincense.
more burdensome than you can imagine,
no matter the posh or plain neighborhoods
where they chatter~conclude this confused year,
or by
the analytics that are offered up to explain
it all away,

that explain nothing
other than human capability
for self-delusion,
self-aggrandizement
is limitless and should be
studied as a future power source
for energy to run your EV’s

everything labeled, and placed
correctly
in their own star chamber

who is the greater fool?

Why me, for suffering
the pomposity and inanity
of human verbal drivel…

as noted,
more burdensome than you can imagine,
bodes poorly for the new timeline…


my name remains brandychanning
no matter what year you label life
james nordlund May 2018
Their Trumpler wags his finger, pounds his chest, does abhor and detest, yet,
Unlike the rest, I refuse to protest the pomposity of his demeanor, regress.
For, as I wrote three decades ago, they think with spooned nose, speak with
forked tongue, yet, '...we(e),...', will not be undone, only if you still will.
A nation's youth sacrificed to the dogs of war, and it's keep, plundered deep,
can give no more to ravenous avarice ******, the global oligarchy, seated,
then entrenched in our Gov't's executive branch, dismissing all who won't cower.
In 2016 you couldn't throw a rock without hitting a revolutionary or radical,
because 'Hillary wasn't pure, perfect', their excuse for helping install Trumpler
in the Kluckahouse, now where's their sound and fury, their installed feurher
states, African countries are 'shitholes', now, immigrants are 'animals',
our nations heroes 'aren't', ad infinitum, where's the 'Bernie or Bust 'Bots'
'revolution', declared in the beginning of 2016 by him, now. The dinos, sinos,
linos, ginos ainos declare their allegiance to the illusion of non-violence,
steadfastly, as it's evidently better than the delusion of violence, while their
invisible coup's installing the king kong sized terrible two as emperor, along
with the FBI, NSA, CIA, NSC, Assange, wikileaks, hackers globally, remocrat
Conspiracy, immoral minority, Putin's puppets All, is the most violent event
purposely unprevented since the levees in NOLA were let fail, the unnecessary
unending war in Iraq started, and king george and his ****, cheney purposely
didn't prevent the attacks on 9-11-01, with the republican conspiracy elite.
Cloven covens of their actual religion of materialism, which they all practice
behind masks of 'used' religions, worldviews, spiritualities, clustering in
their conclaves, meet, with unremarkable tidings, the time is neigh for all
to die from climate change, decimated environs, undrinkable water, unedible
food, unbreathable air, unarable land, their 'final solution', ending humanity,
is at hand. Still, the machinations of our technocracy's machinings of human
beings, succeed in their device's designs, bring us ever closer to their
extreme narcissism's lack of way, nihilism, their lifeless choices, hedonism,
and their self-possessed, la machine's, language of 0's and 1's, always tolling
for their bottom lines needs, exigency replacing humanity per force of self-
programming, tragically, no? Does the fiber of your being, the sinew of it's
meaning shout, as to forever echo on, no? Whilst words, symbols, also being
paths of study, can't lead to self-emancipation, for the intellect can't lead,
as the life does not follow, if one allows questions to be, until answers evolve,
they can inform perception's growth, to signs and meanings along the way, uplift
vision. The corporate structure's convolution, and it's devolutionary direction,
proffer otherwise. As his heart's being ripped from the heart in the heart
of the heartland, in his mind's eye, she still stands, hair as if ablazed by
the truest wind that e'r blowed, her hand ever unwavers, raised, with it's torch
yet unschorched, it's light still a beacon of hope and the liberty that birthed
it, to all entering our NY's harbor, if death needs be proud, then let it be, now.
As vernal, the melodies of nature evolve us, let's not forget, urgently separating
the real religion which all religions, etc., are a front for, avarice, from the
State, as dictated by our Constitution, must be done, if not humanity's extinction
will result, and almost all until then was just the premeditated mass-****** of
7 billion in ever more various and myriad forms. Viva la evolution.   reality
(Written while watching Loreena McKennitt's ineffable 'Nights from the Alhambra',
(for her "...it means mystery, eternity, and represents the human spirit") on
Netflix.  Especially apt, due to Pruitt's criminally insane administration of the
EPA, her ethereal, ephemeral, while Earthen, song, 'Bonny Portmore', imho. reality)


("To walk in seasons is to question, A flower is opening", Basho.  
"Let questions be questions, answers will come", Martha Graham.)
Anais Vionet Dec 2023
We were at a small
bar, the place only served some
older regulars.

An elderly guy
in an old jean jacket was
talkative, friendly.

“What do girls learn at
Yale?” He asked. “We’re taught things, like
expressions, smiling,

pomposity, snark,
whatevering and stuff-stuff.”
I bragged shamelessly.

“Sure,” He chuckled, “sure
- but it’s worth the money I suppose,”
he gave me a toast.

Limiting yourself
can, in fact, set you free - try
writing a Senryu

Like a martial art,
a tea ceremony or
classical music

They are a tight dance -
controlled, disciplined, focused.
Other styles can drift.

A Senryu is like
a Haiku except it deals
with human feelings
A Haiku/Senryu should three lines of 5-7-5 syllables
A Haiku should be about nature
A Senryu about human feelings
Unpolished Ink Jun 2021
I need no sword
for I can pierce your armour with my tongue
wit and clever words can bring you sobbing to your knees
they have bite, feel their sting
oh yes, and they will cut you down in a heartbeat
to shred and tear at your pomposity
I need no sword
Ayush Bajpai Jan 2019
In Search of Truth
The path that I had chosen for the achievement of the eternal truth is giving me nothing now. It started asking me questions, tough to answer and tough to listen too.
I overlooked the mesmerized turns and went straight towards the eternal truth but it now seems like it is not the truth which I am looking for.  
I became pliable for those paths which served a lot of misrepresentations and I took them. They cause me to believe that I am close but I am getting further away.
We speak, we talk, we laugh in accordance with that they shall see us in the order but forgets the main reason's concern too.
I didn't have any idea that I shall find myself broken into the various footsteps of the way to accomplish rather I thought that I have my own way to attain the truth.
In search of myself first, I see nothing which has happened to be taken from entering into my own aspects but found it is portrayed by some others.
In the meantime, if there is a way to exit this path I shall pay for it to my extreme extents eradicating eloquent evincing enemies eternally; my own deceiving traits from my real face.
Horrendous hollows hanging horribly in this way, I can choose the other but then the truth shall also be redefined which is not the thing which I want.
So what's the thing going to happen? Let it happen? I don't want it to happen I want some other things to happen happily. But it will happen whether I do anything but yes I can make it happen for my own good sake and for my truth also.
Let the world come against me I shall fight fearlessly and cause a turbulence of revolution in the way and clear away all those fanatical footsteps and let the liberal moves of mine to fill the hollows and construe the way once again that, 'now it is the one which I expected and when all those questions shall become mere rumors of paradoxical ruins and of utmost pomposity. In that way which I believed and make the era believe shall be my way and that clears away all the barriers, In Search of Truth...'
In search of truth is the poem which I have been thinking for a lot of time and it took about six months to write this poem which describes my dilemma of finding the truth or love or aim or success that whether the way I am traveling is right or not; people say that it is right but what my truth or love or aim says that matters the most to me and that's what I decide that the way in which I am traveling is according to me but not the vice versa and at last I am confident that I shall find the truth.
ISIAKA AKROMAH Sep 2019
A love for a Love

When an eye for an eye will turn the World blind,
Then I guess forgiveness must be the order of the day.

When a tooth for a tooth will lead the whole World toothless,
Then compassion must be first on the agenda.


When hate for hate will lead the  Wolrd into a thrall,
Then Love must be our prayer of the day.

When a punch for a punch will lead the World into a fright,
Then peace must be water we serve to all.

When an insult for an insult will lead the world into anxiety,
Then kindness must be our Walking shoes.

When a steal to steal will turn the whole World into thieves,
Then hand over must be the code of conduct.

When hatred for hatred will lead the Wolrd into a plight,
Then brotherhood must be the dream of society.

When ego for the ego will lead to World into arrogance,
Then honor must be our moral values as people.

When pomposity for pomposity will lead the World into tragedy,
Then humility must be our purpose of life.

When loftiness for loftiness will turn the World into a place of an egotist,
Then modesty must be our behavior pattern.
love will set us free

— The End —