"pretentiously" poems
*Just when the sun illuminates,
Upon the sapphire skies,
And the clouds appear,
To slowly dance, side by side.
Shimmery, cobalt blue waters,
Perform a low sequence, on the seaside,
Leaving a bubbling blanket,
On the surface of smooth sands,
Washing away, pretentiously.
Bringing a gentle tropical zephyr,
With rhythmic sounds,
Echoing, through evergreen pinnate leaves,
Swinging gently, into the calming air.
Inspiring a magical after glow,
With dreams fulfilled,
In ecstasy,
Leaving a warm and peaceful impression.*
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 8:48 PM UTC
Three-legged spider on a ***** tile
Eyeball rolls, clean in hand
Massive metal door opens, up top a hill
Graveyard of ever-ringing cells.
What's real creepy to you?
Enclose the city, lock us out ..for good
Condemned as doomed, living dead
Big guns survive in metallic domes
See the crass ******** shoot us down!
Wanna talk about what's creepy, huh?
Plunderers now lay down new laws
Can't fight the sick, red sway
Random acts of violence bay
Armoured eyes see all from lofty towers.
Creepy autocrats hide the truth, right?
No soaring when blood runs rivers
Tripping over rotting corpses
Decaying stench of hope dying
Help will come, we must believe!
Do you believe lies to your face?
Infrastructure's down, no services
Power's out, no more flushing
Car carcasses aflame on every corner, yet
How come big brother's eyes still move?
Are the gullible ones really stupid and feeble?
Sun shines, but nothing grows
Rain seeps red away into sewers
Crops of twisted metal, hoards of guns
Skeletal trees adorn our landscape.
Why hold askance your glance skyward?
The gates will open to let us in
Surely, they witness our hardship!
There must exist a life beyond this strife
Uproar, bombard, gas, artillery....then no more....
Can you ever cease to have temerity?
In face of adversity, calamity and injustice
We should NEVER cease to be exasperated!
Hope must prevail; faith must live;
Thoughts expressed; love and respect must survive.
Can you afford your spirit just to let go....?
Think about it. Creepy autocrats eternally rank ...
Chronically..........Insidious
Repressively........Deleterious
Egotistically.........Inadequate
Eruptively............Odious
Pretentiously.......Tedious
Yucky...................Scum!
S T, 31 May 2013
May 31, 2013
May 31, 2013 at 10:30 AM UTC
Melting madness and shimmering isles
The bubble-gum boils in drug pedophiles
Let's teach the East to love Western style
We come in with strap-on's and pillage with smiles
The rest of the world watches their watches
People keep saying we're at hour eleven
We're changing the design on our gold lockets
From a heart to a blackjack, Seven Seven Seven!
The college boys assure you that they know the lyrics
And the meanings behind them for they've been enlightened
They swarm out like locusts and pretentiously parrot
Verbatim the textbooks they read when they're frightened
That they'll die with nothing to show for their efforts
They want everyone else in the world to remember
That they did exist on some scale of importance
Even though we're just spun yarn of grass, dirt and oceans
Intelligence streams the consciousness seeds and conscientious objectors it seems
So pardon me for the fallacy of pardoning tyrannical dictator queens
It seems these days to be discovered you need to cheat on your spouse or your lover
You'd think that with all the war crimes we've seen we would have hung at least one or the other
We've got two parties, so pick one or scram! (Look at them squirm as fast as they can!)
They're starting to think for themselves again! Quick, strangle the market and feed this man
Acid and bath salts and give him some tear gas and send him on in to disarm the smear traps
And **** everyone so we'll jump to conclusion with no where to turn, the final solution!
I'm drunk again and we're falling in, the shoreline is riddled with explosions
We don't speak of the war, we have no comment, we're almost out of original content
We're frantically searching for a brand new contest to prove that our nation is still the best
Whether you're China, Russia, Israel, Pakistan, the U.K., or India, the U.S. or Japan
Let's take all the gangbanging **** out of Oakland and drop them in to the Atlantic Ocean
Or better yet, set them loose in Uganda, let's see how long they last in Rwanda.
I'm done with religion and socialized medicine, this aristocracy of pull and deception
So for once in our lifetimes, let's seek a vision, because God knows people can't make ******* decisions.
Jan 7, 2013
Jan 7, 2013 at 4:20 AM UTC
i think of the people who have no homes
they sleep to shiver alone
pretentiously i am just like them
for your arms are home
i am not home
(n.n.)
Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 8:45 AM UTC
I came from a generation that stuck in between the nostalgia,
The grandeur of aesthetics and hypocrisy in the genitalia
Too many amateurs which they called pretenders
Too many pretenders which they called profounders
Of Artistry in every countries culture.
I am not the most impressive writer just like Shakespeare
Neither close to the modern writers on which they give praise
My age is a few leaps away to the end of my youth,
At twenty, I found words of impulsiveness and courage elicit from my mouth.
I am just someone who embodied the face of my leagues
They call me the soul of their generation as they please
I may write pretentiously, but I speak for the marginalized
I dream for my inked piece would reach them, I hope to get them amazed
I am the soul my generation
A little careless with my actions, telling others I'm brave
A little wild, yet I screamed that nothing bounds me
A little innocent with life's surprises, and so I apologized and called it as a mistake.
I'm a few every people that you've met.
I carry the pieces of the individuals who have touched me
I flow like the river which takes parts of the fallen objects in me.
Vulnerable to anything, Easy to gain what the heart desires
Misunderstood like the innocent criminals,
Goes along with changes
I'm maybe everything they thought I am
I'm maybe someone you never thought I am
Or nothing in with your choices
But one thing's for sure; I'm free.
Jun 23, 2017
Jun 23, 2017 at 10:39 PM UTC
wear my thick skin
like armor with my heart
on my sleeve
because I love to give it out
but I'll be ****** if I'll take that **** back
so I guess I'm just one way traffic
a conduit for a confused Confucius conveying crap
poems of purple prose pretentiously purposefully pretty
self loathing can be as strong as love
because we love to hate ourselves
maybe it's just extreme modesty
and you always called me a wolf
because heat seemed to come off my body
in waves
even on the coldest night
I think it's just the kinetic energy of the words in my head
playing bumper cars
at a million miles an hour
and I always have an idea of a poem
when I sit down
and then it gets away from me
and runs circles around me
just like you when we argue
the only difference is
I would always tell the poem
that it was right
so I don't know what that means
Mar 3, 2013
Mar 3, 2013 at 10:46 AM UTC
Pretty pots,
Perfectly poised,
Pose pretentiously.
Planning plots,
Previously pulled,
Paradoxically.
Pretty pots,
Put pepper plants,
Purposefully.
Planting pain,
Punishing plan,
Premeditatedly.
Pretty pots,
People's pox,
Planetary perceived.
Plotting plots,
Pretty pots,
Perniciously.
Dec 8, 2015
Dec 8, 2015 at 12:28 AM UTC
the day i let go of everything
i began to rise slowly,
a million red balloons
tied with thick satin ribbons
to the back of my favorite orange flannel
and the tinge of sadness i felt
as i floated over a city
where the glasses can't decide
if they're half full or empty
began to drop from the tip of my nose
down into my toes
and finally into the pipes of crack heads
and mouths of puerto rican mothers
yelling at their children
to come home for pastalillos
i watched as nothing changed
the falls still fell
hipsters still biked (pretentiously)
bums still begged for change (in more ways than one)
hood rats still skipped school
20 somethings still boozed
and i realized that as much as this city felt like my salvation,
it wasn't
gulls came along
and popped each balloon,
as i dropped closer and closer to the earth
i panicked
i clung to the remaining balloon
and begged the birds to carry me elsewhere
but i already knew that the only way out of this place
was the way that i came in,
alone
May 3, 2012
May 3, 2012 at 10:08 PM UTC
as I cling
to my section of reality,
the gutters are full
of ink,
thoughts, dreams, nightmares,
the degradation of humanity,
hides no more,
flows free,
as I sit here,
sipping iced tea,
laden with lemons and sorrow,
waiting for Bukowski to arrive,
the shitzu by my side,
guarding me,
from hordes of mosquitoes,
without fear,
waiting for a nibble,
of sweet butter pecan ****
the world so alive,
as I write,
to regain my sanity,
freedom,
recovery,
i admire the lone tree,
in a meadow of pity,
rustling in the wind,
the birds singing,
the cat pretending to be part
of the tree,
the whole while,
me nursing the fable
of a broken heart,
pretentiously,
pretending,
to be a poet,
writing my sorrows away,
hiding from humanity,
i wonder,
Bukowski where are you?
Feb 4, 2012
Feb 4, 2012 at 8:05 AM UTC
Mr.know-it-all gazing far into the future
Pretentiously weeping ahead of time,
realizing then, it was...
some kind of special torture
hoping that he was wrong
on what makes him cry.
I felt my time was running out,
that it would all be over soon.
The desperation of the moment,
made me think through and through.
What truly matters is joy and colour!
And every breath you take and savour.
Try being good to one another,
and keep your mind sharp,
like a whirling saber.
Oh wait! it was not the end!
What is this? i have no end? now i see!
I was just this greedy little thing,
when theres truly no end to me!
We are a cloud of information,
and the ego is our damnation.
Believe! we can be anything!
if we let ourselves be free!
...in this land...of...make-believe...
Sep 8, 2018
Sep 8, 2018 at 12:18 AM UTC
I was empty when I started
Tried to find a remedy
Really I was pretentiously
Fighting my inner artist.
Heartless...
Is that really what they think of me?
I was on the brink of the
Fate of many martyrs.
And for starters...
I had no clue what to do.
I entrapped myself in seclusion.
Time alone
To reformulated,
To re-braid my DNA,
My motives.
I tried to wriggle to the light.
I jabbed, thrusted, fought.
Just to get a glimpse of myself.
The new me.
Remedy.
But I couldn't.
I was stuck in my mind.
And I was going crazy
No way to get away from the
Torment that was containing me.
So I wrote...
I became the artist
That I always wanted to be.
I injected my pain infused art,
Meticulously,
On the sandpaper canvas
That was my life.
Holding me deep in vacancy.
That, was my nightmare.
And then I broke out.
I simply... woke up.
So I learned how to dream.
Mar 7, 2012
Mar 7, 2012 at 1:21 AM UTC
I don't know,
that is to say "I can't tell"
if I was
moderately pretentious
or
pretentiously moderate;
perhaps both
but in either case,
I am aware
and thus can I begin
to better myself.
Jun 4, 2013
Jun 4, 2013 at 6:23 PM UTC
Yet again I zone out on these back streets
Guided by the instinct
Of my former self.
I can see the past now,
Pretentiously smiling back.
There’s things I can’t escape,
But everything else, I just ran.
My eyes were focused on the clouds.
I can remember seeing the places that I’ve never been
For the first time
And the last time.
I was swinging for the moon.
I knew I would see it soon.
Did I oversleep? Did I overdream?
It still thinks about me to this day.
The past is something I wanna eject from my brain.
Then lock it in a box and never ever see it again.
But the past still thinks of me to this day.
I was swinging for Mars
Or at the very least, the stars.
Couldn’t hesitate, no time to delay.
I’m still trying to find the best way.
But I think back to in that classroom asking myself why.
Why can’t I just walk away?
It still thinks about my everyday.
I still think about it to this day.
Mar 18, 2019
Mar 18, 2019 at 6:12 PM UTC
Me n mangoz are heading west
Spontaneous with serendipity,
Expressing isn't easily found
When ones pretentiously profound,
Thinking of all the words
But they won't come out
So let's type them together, here
in the cyberspace let's shout.
Feb 17, 2024
Feb 17, 2024 at 11:07 PM UTC
I am sick and tired of you talking about other girls
Calling them weird and ugly and fake
When it is you who slathers on the makeup
Hiding behind false beauty
I am tired of overhearing you calling a girl fat
Because she is not a size two
When it is you who starved yourself
To look as you do today
I am done with you walking like you have a stick up your ***
Pretentiously scavenging the halls for your next target
When it is you who has been the target as of late
And you pay no mind
I am appalled by your arrogance
Telling professionals they have no right to tell you how to live
When they can see where you are heading
For you are not as original as you seem
I am sorry for how sad you must be
Constantly looking inward
When all you find is an empty abyss
Peering back at you
I am apologetic for what you have to go through
Constantly fighting battles that are far beyond your years
When they are far bigger then you
And anything you can do
Most of all
I am content
That we are not longer friends
No longer yearning for
When all you could tell me
Was how bad I was.
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 10:48 PM UTC
Hello, my name is David Phlegmister. I am much too self-aware. I also have no ******* idea who I am. My intestines twist and turn just like yours. I think I must have a pretentiously metaphorical tapeworm. Everything I do or say is backed by either anger or curiosity, and in spite of this I am somehow not in jail. I try too hard. I don't try hard enough. I care too much but I still don't give a **** I wont tell you I'm hungry even though I havent eaten since yesterday. No, really, it's fine, I'm not hungry.My hands and feet are too big for my body.
Seriously, **** off, I'm not ******* hungry
I drink black coffee and smoke cigarettes but I swear to god I'm not an egotistical existentialist. My mom tells me that I'm too skinny but dont worry I'm not hungry. Smells **** me up.
I can still smell your perfume and I can still smell your *****
Your feelings dont matter because we all die eventually.
Boo hoo, get the **** over it.
Everything you stand for is a lie. God isn't real, your government hates you, status is meaningless.
Jokes on you so **** yourself.
I'm sixteen years old in an Aberdeen-esque hellhole.
I'm a highschool dropout
My old school was a cesspool of AXE body spray and ****** ****
My friends all want to **** themselves and I don't blame them.
I'm an ******* in my own right, but I don't know about yours.
Im still waiting for someone who doesn't have to fix me to love me.
I whine and ***** about whiney ******* and wonder why I hate myself. I've come to terms with the fact that I'm going to be a ******
Reality is not, and will not, ever suffice.
It will never satisfy.
Never bring contentedness.
Theres no denying that I will be hooked on whatever unrefined, kidney-raping junk I can get my filthy hands on. Marijuana got boring fast.
I hate routine. I hate sameness. I feel too ******* much so I punish myself for it.
**I AM NOT A ******* PIECE OF ART**
I'm your aborted ******* son.
My fingernails are too short.
I lie to people who care about me
and I don't know if its for
my sake
or theirs.
I'm the elephant in the room of conservative christian right wing baby boomers.
I CANNOT and WILL NOT do what is expected of me.
I don't fit in.
Thank god.
Don't wanna be a starry eyed, brain dead statistic.
Sometimes I don't sleep on purpose just because I don't deserve to.
I don't owe you a ******* thing. I have nothing to prove and nothing to give.
IMNOTHUNGRYIMNOTHUNGRYIMNOTHUNGRY
Feb 2, 2016
Feb 2, 2016 at 6:03 AM UTC
i’ve tangled with a lot of bodies
after we ended.
i’ve knotted myself with different hearts
pretentiously knowing that this pain i’ve felt could be mended.
i’ve scrambled those ties in my hands and how easy it was for me to un-knot them.
one knot comes in, after a few days, weeks, or sometimes but not often, months, slowly it detangles itself and i leave untangled, unbroken, as if nothing went past these lines on my heart, my body, my lips, like it didn’t happen at all.
i thought those messy tangles i put myself into would be as hard as when we had to untangle ourselves — or just me, i guess — from the oh so short but very sweet time we’ve had together.
but, i was wrong.
i wasn’t left untangled,
i wasn’t unbroken.
i still had a little not, tied in between my heart, body, and lips, which i try so hard not to notice by putting myself out there, messing my own lines up till i catch someone who ends up letting go afterwards.
to you,
we’ve already part ways,
to me,
you barely left.
i wish you could untangle this knot you left.
i wish you could mess with mine again, and probably leave a bigger knot — so obvious that i’d give up trying to fix it.
i wish to see how your soft hands would carefully untie, over then under then pull and stretch, this knot and maybe i could finally figure out that it was so easy that i didn’t even need your help.
but you’re gone.
and i have to accept that.
it’ll take time before this untangles by itself so i’ll just let it be for awhile.
and when someone does come not only to tie their heart with mine,
but also untangle what you had left behind,
then i’ll be fine,
and know that now’s my time.
Sep 8, 2018
Sep 8, 2018 at 10:36 AM UTC
Are you the dynamic person you said you are 4,000 years ago? With no intoxication the conversation’s a bore. The stakes aren't high enough. I’m conditioned by the narrative and we’re all pretentiously pedantic, spewing poison at the heroic romantics.
I've lost my coper’s cloak. I remember how I dropped the dry ones at the river bank, I cut off my imitator’s finger, and as I fell into the tiger’s pit, I grasped a strawberry to make me sweeter. I crowned the beast a hero, cause out of perfect tiger dharma he tore off the limb that led him from his prison. Yet, the human dharma is to save all beings from our reckless peering.
Jun 21, 2014
Jun 21, 2014 at 10:59 PM UTC
What's this rush i feel when your skin touches mine?
When you hold me close and our fingers intertwine
to pull me behind you, as we run and laugh
through casino tables, guests and staff.
When we draw odd looks from curious faces
who stare and pretentiously wonder if places
like this are for people like us.
But really, sweetheart, if i had to guess
at how i feel and what magic this is,
then i could only try to describe my bliss
as the gentle tickle of your dress against mine
and the click of our heels, as we move in time
to a beat, that doesn't match that of the DJ
and the music he chose for us to dance the night away.
Then we dance to the Time Warp, and Thriller,
and then a slow dance, after establishing that C is killer
at dancing no matter how crazy. That we should kiss
though we awkwardly don't and maybe, it's my guess,
you don't feel the way i do,
and you don't feel this rush and want this affection for you
that i anxiously hold, and try to restrain from running wild.
Yet i feel as though it is a Great Dane and I a small child
trying very nervously not to be shy,
but to express through words or kiss and a sigh
the feelings i feel for you as you stand at my side
hands perfectly entwined
as your hair and dress
slide
around
your
curves
like
wysteria
or ivy
and flare
dramatically
and splendidly
as you spin
and rush
and laugh
and smile
I smile
May 18, 2014
May 18, 2014 at 4:57 PM UTC
You smile like you do not want to be hurt
you are afraid of not being responsible
to the children
who you pretend to garner
and guide, knowingly,
pretentiously into a world
you have woven
with such subtle doubt
You cry yourself to bed
after you put your only daughter to sleep
and look into the black night ahead
with silver moons under your eyes
tired and dreaming of love
You watch a film and smile a sober smile
then walk slowly to clean up after
dinner
and stare a stolen gaze
like your eyes are not yours and your
reflection isn't yours to stare
at the glass to the right of your misery, somewhere
numb to your touch
and comprehending
the arrested state of your being
your soul,
somewhere up in the september clouds
just above your home sweet home
Sep 18, 2017
Sep 18, 2017 at 2:42 PM UTC
Enormous envious egotistical evil enemy's,
Peering pretentiously penetrating peaceful potent propulsive plots,
Anxiously annoying anti-climaxing answers
Cautiously coldly contemptuous confusing comments,
Tempering tidus torment thy thoughts,
Super superfluous superficial stagnant stories
Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 12:52 PM UTC
Watch what the pedant swine does- whose gargling
fills the Scabbards. Those near men who nestle in
with peers and well heeled cogs, Laced and misshapen
by all the verdant narcotics of the Time. For all to see
they'll Stand and declaim clotted regurgitations of
promises already Framed.
Their attire in constant lave, and limbs Strung up by
the unnatural- Their throats lined thickly to the teeth,
of figments and cruor, and the fiction they spiel forever
a plush Decor.
For, you see, all but few buy what they Sell- counterfeit
talk stocked pretentiously upon shelves. And all speedily
Corked fit in viewing eyes, plugged into those who've not
the time to Reason why? Bought in bulk- a Politician plying
his delicately chosen words.
Jun 11, 2017
Jun 11, 2017 at 7:41 AM UTC