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Steve Page Feb 2023
I don’t know if you know this,
but I'm a tolerant non-conformist.
I know it's easy to have missed this,
but I've found it essential to co-exist
on an island as small as this,
in a city as full as this,
and that if I want to both resist conformity
and live with a degree of grace-ful harmony
I must persist in my pursuit of resistance
against an unnecessary distance
between me and those who live with difference.

And the more I live my difference
I find that non-conformity
doesn't necessitate exclusivity
and needn't be an excuse
for a self-righteous harsh disharmony.
And instead I'll walk with those most unlike me
to find and celebrate the common thread
of our mutual uncommon humanity.
Prompted by something I heard from Trevor Phillips on BBC radio 4.
Big Virge Sep 2021
So Are You A Conformer...
Or A... Gangster Shot Caller... ?

Or The Type of Fast Talker...
Whose Talk Walks With Porters...

Or In Other Words Those...
Who Serve Those On Thrones...
And DON'T Walk The Walk...
of... All Their BIG Talk... !?!

Cos' It’s Clear Now That MANY...
Like To Talk Like Their Ready...
To Make Things Unsteady...

When It Comes To Our Lives...
And These Leaders Who Lie...
And Leave People Downsized...

So Of Course Run Their Gums...
About Being... " TOUGH "...
And How They'’ll Stand Up...
To Modern Systems...

... Until Money Comes... ?!?

And Then They CONFORM...
To... Walking The Walk...
of Clowning Like MORK... !?!
Or Souls Who’ve Been BOUGHT... !!!

Now I’m NOT Gonna Lie...
l’ve Conformed In My Life...
Simply To Survive...

But NOT To Make Money...
To Live Life... CORRUPTLY...

Cos' People Act Funny...

To Run With The Chumps...
Who Run Governments...
As Well As The Punks...
Within... Entertainment... !!!

Who Conform To Do Stuff...
That Clearly Corrupts...

Just Like Our Leaders...
And The Money They Love... !!!

A Thing That Makes Some...
Embrace Taking Drugs...
And Forsake What They CLAIM...
To Behave Like A Stray...
Whose Veered Off The Straight...

To Bend Like Chicanes...
And Start To Act Strange... !?!

It’s The Way of Today...
CONFORMING Away...
To New Gender Ways...
And This New Virus Strain...
That’s Caused Many Pain...
And Forced Us To Play...
The Masking Up Game... !?!

And YES I Mean ME...
Conforming To Please...
But Mainly To FEED...
And Avoid These Police...

And Having To Pay...
A Fine Or Face Jail... !!!

Because OBVIOUSLY...
I’d Rather Be FREE...
Than Face Life In Prison...
And Being Conditioned...
By Those Who ARE Villains... !!!

So CERTAIN Conformers...
Should Cut Their Talk Shorter...

Instead of Make CLAIMS...
That REBELLIOUS Ways...
Seem To Get Locked Away...

When THEY Are The Ones...
Who’ve Let Money Become...
What CONTROLS How They Live...
So Are Quick To Submit...
To New Age Politricks’...
That Shut Down Businesses... !!!

That Right Just Like THEIRS...
Because They’ve Conformed...
To Levels of Thought...
Where Cash Is The Source...
of Talk That They Court...
That Helps Them Breathe Air... ?!?

CONFORMING To Think...
In Ways That Are Linked...
To Something That STINKS... !!!
  
That’s RIGHT CONFORMISTS...
Who Are Clearly TOO QUICK...
To Start RUNNING THEIR LIPS... !!!

Like A Fast Mouthed Dumb Kid...
Who Cannot Raise A Fist...

Just Like John Carlos Did... !!!

A TRUE NON-Conformist... !!!

Now I’m NOTHING Like Him... !!!

But I THINK And RESIST...
Conforming Through Scripts...
And Poems I Bring...

Cos’ I’m NOT A Performer...
A Big Money Baller...
Or Gangster Shot Caller... !!!

But I Am A STRAIGHT Talker...
Whose Really NOT DOWN With...

All These NEW AGE...

..... “ Conformers “.....
As ever, inspired by a comment someone made to me, suggesting that my wearing mask in their business, showed that I am not so rebellious, but am quick to conform...

How little they know....
topacio Sep 2021
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
-Robert Frost

And so i waded at the fork
in the woods and recalled
these oft-repeated words,

i aimed my shoes to the left
for this was the road
that was undoubtedly
less traveled

but i hesitated and my thoughts
turned to "conformity" -
the merry subject
at poem's hand.

for although the thick
brush was denser
on this part of land,
i could at least understand

conforming for uncomformities
sake was in itself ..
a conformism,
and the real
unconformity was uniforming
yourself to you.
Ken Pepiton Mar 2021
}} who would lust to list to a guy named Waldo? I asked…
This guy I know, Al, he says it contains references to mort-ifying experiences, AND those could boost our points made, so AI suggests I read: Ralph Waldo Emerson, from 2021-
If I know your sect, I anticipate your argument.
A man must consider what a blindman's-buff …
{*******, looks it up, it's like Marco Polo in a public pool}
he goes on
what a blindman's-buff is this game of conformity.
{ he assumes his audience is a we, We all play, back in his day, this game was considered religion, and
religion was some form
of Christianity, the rest were heathen,
in that game,
conformed religion was the only winning
peace time occupation,
which Blake bitten poets might imagine fitting into,
who knew?
at that time, now
the game is set, default mode
on cult startup,
first hook is, God called you because
you are like us a loser without hope, without help,
Tetzl, build me a tourist attraction,
make the Germans pay,
then
have all the ******* artists paint its walls
to prove each believes
the story the edifice shall tell.
{listen, she whispers, hear her first entreaty only once}
Now breathing is like expanding the game:
inspirational sci-psy-psi, know as we say we know,
we are those who know,  ecce ****,
-------- those evil inquisitors, were me -
-------no - I was Jaques De Molay,
sure, ri-ight,
and I'm Oscar Schindler, when he saves Anne Frank.
HEY
WE CAME TO EXPOSE A SHADOW...
so the seeds we sow
grow where hearing ears
cross reading eyes and all
the best ideas come in double

space-ing to allow for lines that wrap at the frame, fully phreakin' justified, on any screen with leading letting space be normal, thus limiting out of bounds imaginary
reasons
why lines come in expensive short lengths,
||
last issue of The New York Times composed using hot metal (2 July 1978) was titled
Farewell, Etaoin Shrdlu

|| the hot metal was lead. Like bullets, but letters.

In this medium, messages know
there are no valid reasons
for long justified lines and
space is not only there there
between lines that start at 10, to leave fixit room,
an ancient way of making room for right in wrong code.
Add a lin -oops line
Etaoin and Shrdlu and lorem ipsum, too
RW-if old waldo had been enabled,
as I am,
with mortally infinite paper
and ink visible to any eye,
Now Waldo, tell Seri to spread the word, y'back..
.
he may then
have written in my short line attention span,
concept upon concept
except ...
reception
falters…
WE LOST THE HOOK>
NOBODY KNOWS WHERE WALDO FITS THE PICTURE

Here's Waldo: 2021, with no ******* comments…
---------------------------
The objection to conforming
to usages that have become dead
to you
is,
that it scatters your force.
It loses your time and blurs the impression
of your character.
If you maintain a dead church,
contribute to a dead Bible-society,
vote with a great party
either for the government or against it,
spread your table like base housekeepers,
— under all these screens I have difficulty
to detect the precise man you are.
And, of course,
so much force is withdrawn
from your proper life.
But do your work,
and I shall know you.
Do your work,
and you shall reinforce yourself.
A man must consider
what a blindman's-buff is this game
of conformity.
If I know your sect,
I anticipate your argument.
I hear a preacher announce
for his text and topic the expediency
of one of the institutions of his church.
Do I not know beforehand that
not possibly
can he say
a new and spontaneous word?
Do I not know that,
with all this ostentation
of examining the grounds of the institution,
he will do no such thing?
Do I not know that he is pledged
to himself not
to look but
at one side,
— the permitted side,
not as a man, but as a parish minister?
He is a retained attorney,
and these airs of the bench
are the emptiest affectation.
Well,
most men have bound their eyes with one
or another handkerchief,
and attached themselves
to some one
of these communities
of opinion.
This conformity makes them not false
in a few particulars,
authors of a few lies,
but false in all particulars.
Their every truth is not quite true.
Their two is not the real two,
their four not the real four;
so that every word they say chagrins us,
and we know not where
to begin to set them right.
Meantime nature is not slow
to equip us in the prison-uniform
of the party
to which we adhere.
We come
to wear one cut
of face and figure,
and acquire
by degrees
the gentlest asinine expression. {;}

There is a mortifying experience in particular,
which does not fail
to wreak itself also
in the general history;
I mean
"the foolish face of praise,"
the forced smile which we put on
in company
where we do not feel
at ease
in answer
to conversation which does not interest us.
The muscles,
not spontaneously moved,
but moved
by a low usurping wilfulness,
grow tight
about the outline
of the face
with the most disagreeable sensation.
>
I find I digest short lines better, and waldo doesn't mind being paid a bit of attention, he had some ideas that breathe easier in this century,
Ken Pepiton Aug 2020
in a rather more living language
form frames function, I think we,
should we agree,
may make waves or points proving
science is good.

Clipped from: http://www.thenewatlantis.com/publications/the-unbearable-wholeness-of-beings

If you try to describe the living processes of the cell
in a rather more
living language
than is typically found
in the literature of molecular biology —
if you resort to a language
reflecting the artfulness and grace,
the well-coordinated rhythms,
and the striking choreography
of phenomena such as
gene expression,
signaling cascades, and
mitotic cell division —
you will almost
certainly
hear mutterings
about your flirtation with
“spooky, mysterious, nonphysical forces.”
You can expect to hear yourself labeled a “mystic” or —
there is hardly any viler epithet within biology today — a “vitalist.”
We have tools wordsmiths never imagined in times of points and picas.
Kyle Reeves May 2020
let’s blur truth behind
our forest of strings
teased by blocks, and below
they dance these real boy nows
                                                                                                              clap
                                                for the show
say
                                                 your lines
                                                                                                              sing
                                                   like me
I’m
                                                your queen
baubles like pebbles
shine my fingers please
watch the firewood gambol
**** the harvest, so languid
                                                                                                           shape
                                                   your hips
just
                                                    like me
                                                                                                                 oh
                                                 they'll swoon
just
                                                      for you
please dance for the show
marionette toy!
oh sing these strings up high
what ballet they pull
                                                                                                              take
                                                         a try
no
                                                     my turn now
                                                                                                               pull
                                                   the garrotes
you're kindling
                                                         to us
Ron Gavalik Nov 2019
When I was young,
only the courageous
women colored their hair
pink or green.
They risked job security
and they ignored
the conformed standards.
That strength of spirit
turned me on
far more than **** or legs.
That hair is now mainstream,
so I pretend courage
is mainstream.

–Ron Gavalik
William de klerk Aug 2019
If metal music racket and a straight jacket
can clog the corporations cogs,
then unemployable bleach blond anarchists turning white coats into black cloaks
is when  tattoos and pierced ears
become a parents worst fears.

We walk with untucked shirts and short skirts, wearing  a students mask
I hide a whiskey flask
in a blue blazer pocket  
knowing  dam well they can't stop it
if I walk with a lit cigarette in the parking lot past a parent, it's inherent that since they can't beat us anymore we won't join them.

But I'm not scared.

Because their clone army won't harm me.
Just like the microwave rays the crazies raved on about in the good old days
when disco was king and Justin didn't sing,
back when ADHD wasn't real,
and depression was just no big deal.


So call me a student psychopath armed with a devilish laugh as i bounce round a rubber room in a tin foil hat
refusing to be the systems lab rat.
So they call me a rebel as I lay back in revel watching the rabbit hole unfold
as a thousand sheep break the mold
that the man made when red writing atop a page became how we wage a child's worth.



So the sheep that march through the flames
immerge adorning robes of rebellion,
as the sounds of so many chains severed symphonies through the generation
marking many young minds escaping the confines society's shoved down indoctrinated throats.
izzy Aug 2019
My generation
Is completely ******
Poisoned by radiation ?
Or squashed be terrorist trucks ?

We have mass shootings
At least once a week
We've got global warming
Over which we "debate" via tweets

Some ***** say
Lets fix Mars and go live there
Open your ******* eyes
The big problem is here

Some of us preach acceptance
Saying to love no matter what
I tell you it's deception
Now he's going to hell because he loves a man

Someone kills them-self
Every 40 seconds
Wake up for gods sake
It's the second leading cause of death
We're destroying ourselves

Twelve year old kids
With anorexia
A few thousand wrists were slit
This past November

A step out of the norm
And you'll be excluded
Everything screams CONFORM CONFORM
IF YOU FAIL TO DO SO YOU WILL BE EXECUTED

I could go on forever
But I've made my point

Deep down we all hurt
But we're all in **** up to our necks
The society is rotten and perverse
The world is wrecked

There's nothing for us here
We get a dried up earth
Unbreathable air
We're ******* cursed
It's really not surprising
We all want to die
That we're the most depressed generation
(also the gayest tho lol)

You high ups had better ******* do something
Or we're all gonna die
No more future generation
The human race is falling to it's doom
Get your act together ***** **** mother *******.
Seriously not sure I wanna put any kids into this world
Ruth Nadler-Nir Jun 2019
The system Broke you
Without a scratch
Or a scar to show for it
You were vivacious creature full of the joys of life
But you just got quieter
that’s what they wanted
Isn’t it?
that system made you submit
It forced you to conform
It twisted your mind and contorted your soul
Into its little box
its perfect padded cells with cast iron locks
Say what you feel
But only it’s it’s correct
Speak your truth
As long as it’s what the memo says
They tell you they’ll give you an education
But it’s never what you’d expect
They take your soul
didn’t you read the small text?
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