zz Vapid Versus Viper
If “Vapid” thou call me
Then “Vapid” let me be
Better to be ‘Vapid’
Than a “Viper” like thee
poem by Mary Havran
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Related quotes
When I was three years old I was taken with my family to a little town in Western Minnesota, where I lived a more or less vapid and ordinary life until I was ten.
quote by Mary MacLane
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I don't mind what the market is, but why is it vapid? If they're such a bunch of idiots, why don't you show them good music instead? They're not going to know the difference.
quote by Kristin Hersh
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A lot of music you might listen to is pretty vapid, it doesn't always deal with our deeper issues. These are the things I'm interested in now, particularly at my age.
quote by Annie Lennox
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Youth is a silly, vapid state, Old age with fears and ills is rife; This simple boon I beg of Fate - A thousand years of Middle Life.
quote by Carolyn Wells
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fishing On The Bayou
Everyday the fishing pole called, hook smiled.
Everyday the bayous melted my eyes anew...
With watercolors vapid, vagrant, hyacinth-call.
And the bass waited, finning defiantly, smiling.
Sitting on that wharf, wanting that night's feast,
Realizing the feast was already before me...
What beauty to relish with seasoning of years.
What years to relish, already seasoned...
poem by Elysabeth Faslund
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Black Hole Of The Mountain Top
Silent
..fog
....eases
......in...
Enveloping
..softening
....jagged
......bouldiers
on a mountain top
Silence
..descends
....deep
......into my ways
Numbing
..away
....caustic
. .....pain
of hollow victories
Burried
..deep
....vapid
......vapors
Lockout
..Sun's
... .rays
......black hole
massive attack of heart
poem by Midnights Voice
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Modern Poetry
How I hate those modern Poems
Vaguer, looser than a dream!
Pointless things that look like poems
Only, to some held-back theme!
Wild unequal, agitated,
As by steam ill-regulated -
Balder-dashie steam!
And if (in fine) not super-lyrical,
Then vapid, almost to a miracle.
poem by Charles Harpur
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Sirens
When the sirens sing again...
He is sitting on a hill
A vapid night is crawling through the vale
The trees are fangs of transiency
The demons forge hammers and nails
When the sirens sing again...
He will travel all the ways
That lead to the unknown lands
Time has distorted his view
An amen in his due
When the sirens sing again...
Diamond/1989
song performed by by Alphaville
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cabbages And Beans
Like the dunny door it
simply bangs incessantly
until your patience thins
You can refuse to hear
it if you fry your brains
in oil with vapid apathy
A fear is that it might be
right and sadly true but
then again it might be wind
You’ve clearly had enough
if you accede too meekly
to its patent bullying
This cringing metaphor is
brazenness acclaimed
as an incipient authority
While all I see’s a pannier
of cabbage leaves and
salty beans
© 2 February 2010, I. D. Carswell
poem by Ivan Donn Carswell
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Lesson
A couple chance the perils of a dance
The music strains, a vapid underture,
Assuming, hesitant, required stance
they make a start, one late, one premature.
Eight limbs, set underall and overneath
in underbalance, tripping overfoot,
He ties his lace, she smooths her rumpled sheath
their steps are incoordinately put.
But underbearing knees, and understeps
her chasses to the left, his to the right,
Their understrung and aching quadriceps
deliver overstanding undernight.
To overcurrents, undercome by fun
‘for[e] dawn's ‘unruly sun' they dance as one.
poem by Diane Hine
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How Thought You That This Thing Could Captivate?
How thought you that this thing could captivate?
What are those graces that could make her dear,
Who is not worth the notice of a sneer,
To rouse the vapid devil of her hate?
A speech conventional, so void of weight,
That after it has buzzed about one's ear,
'Twere rich refreshment for a week to hear
The dentist babble or the barber prate;
A hand displayed with many a little art;
An eye that glances on her neighbor's dress;
A foot too often shown for my regard;
An angel's form -- a waiting-woman's heart;
A perfect-featured face, expressionless,
Insipid, as the Queen upon a card.
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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Discrimination never leaves a smile
As the salt left my tongue a constant taste
Blood a friend of tears no foe consequences of my o'precious skin u lambaste
Everything had to have my life sapid
Everything but a while to make me vapid
Sealing the unsealed of dead skin, scars left my pain forget the tongue
Bluish parts drain through too long
But a foe make my ground to shater
Left over years lonely blue nothin' matters
Gold never rust but iron does
i'm nobody so noone loves
had to be somebody get attention
agree with discrimination once that between us all dissension
poem by Mohammed Balchi
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Sonnet 04
If I was drawn here from a distant place,
'Twas not to pray nor hear our friend's address,
But, gazing once more on your winsome face,
To worship there Ideal Loveliness.
On that pure shrine that has too long ignored
The gifts that once I brought so frequently
I lay this votive offering, to record
How sweet your quiet beauty seemed to me.
Enchanting girl, my faith is not a thing
By futile prayers and vapid psalm-singing
To vent in crowded nave and public pew.
My creed is simple: that the world is fair,
And beauty the best thing to worship there,
And I confess it by adoring you.
poem by Alan Seeger
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Elegy
He is sitting on a hill
A vapid night is crawling through the vale
The trees are fangs of transiency
The demons forge hammers and nails
He will travel all the ways
That lead to the unknown lands
Time has distorted his view
An amen in his due
He is gazing at the skies
Without yearning in his eyes
And he will follow the invisible trace
When the sirens sing again...
The spring is in the air, the silence in the skies
The wind is in his hair, the moon is in his eyes
The bats play on but hell be gone
Before the world has left the night
...the birds sing on but he has gone
Before the morning spreads its light
song performed by by Alphaville
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gray Skies
Gray mornings underneath
the plummeting of silver beads
is a cold seraph sitting upon
his celestial wings of fire
shedding petals, caviling for silence
willowing in a soft psychastenia
and of steel-bruised dreams
and the avalanche of his realm
he lost the tangled threads
of his adamant musing
but the heavens cannot speak
and unravel his constellations
without quelling his mirrors
and his vapid etude pounced
like a chain of spears from
the vaults of his commiserating
as he vied against his flaming aeons
and become the mausoleum inside
the bones of the gray morning skies.
poem by Norman Santos
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Thy Better Self
I AM thy other self, what thou wilt be,
When thou art I, the one seest now;
In finding thy true self thou wilt find me,
The springing blade, where now thou dost but plough.
I am thy neighbor, a new house I've built,
Which thou as yet hast never entered in;
I come to call thee; come in when thou wilt,
The feast is always ready to begin.
Thou should'st love me, as thou dost love thyself,
For I am but another self beside;
To show thee him thou lov'st in better health,
What thou would'st be, when thou to him hast died;
Then visit me, I make thee many a call;
Nor live I near to thee alone, but all.
poem by Jones Very
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Pigalle III - 0071 - Current Version
Life deplore,
futile stripper,
friendless whore,
vile bedsitter.
Scarlet lamp,
tarnished glitter,
dreary, damp,
sterile litter.
Sordid, sore,
sexless sister,
mindless, more,
senseless quitter.
Tawdry tramp,
fading flitter,
foetid framp,
nothing fitter?
Vapid vamp's
whisky sipper
rubber stamps
Jack the Ripper.
What's in store?
Cindy's slipper
or, hurt once more,
pimp's wild whipper?
Beaten raw,
barren, bitter,
ruined core,
Paris streeter.
(25 October 2006)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Illusion of Choice
A voter craves their representation,
Someone who can embody their nation
As they believe it should be. They make pleas
That push toward greater equalities,
Calling for consensus sympathies—
To build our empathetic relations.
A voter wants to be their creation,
A catalyst for governed salvation.
They want to think they can come to appease
The public—which is always ill at ease.
They disregard their lack of expertise
And force opinions by accusation.
Of course, the other side states the same thing,
And politics descend into nonsense.
It becomes a game of waspy offense—
Two sides aggressive for the deepest sting.
Victors will change nothing—left or right wing.
If only to keep voters in suspense.
They argue again in vapid pretense,
So what does our illusion of choice bring?
poem by Tim Stensloff
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Vapid
blah blah blah
that is what i hear about you,
a bland taste of life,
kind of bromidic
attic,
tongue clichéd,
becoming a conventional cornball,
what have we become but
dull as dishwater,
feeling so dumb,
an everyday humdrum,
you feel for flat-footed,
an expression so hackneyed,
ho hum
insipid insect,
more of mundane,
d- noplace,
an old hat of grandpa,
papa's pabulum,
plain pedestrian,
partly platitudinous,
a square-faced tribesman
a check that has gone stale,
a well cut stereotyped pattern,
laughing stock,
stupid cupid,
tired, tripe, trite,
unimaginative,
watery eyes
wishy-washy
panty.
ok, just go back to vapid.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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No Change
In days of yore men preened and posed like peacocks to impress
the haute monde with their quality: Put on a brave display,
although often a hollow sham. Which only served to say.
Fine feathers do not make the man, although they may express.
His vapid personality and general uselessness
Today image is everything, it is the modern way.
We kow tow to celebrities, a silly game we play
We have not learnt lessons from history. That image matters less
Than well proven ability and sterling honesty.
We let ourselves be taken in by what spin doctors say.
We are to ready to accept as truth, the clever lies
Which at first glance appear to be completely bias free.
Well designed publicity by those who earn high pay.
by portraying as honest men: Thieving rogues in disguise.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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