#conformism - Hello Poetry

You're new here? Okay. Take a number, take a seat. Now, listen. Have a carrer at 20. A baby at 30. Get divorced at 40, if you must. 50, high time for a menopause. At 60, maybe join a chess club? Just don't lose track of time. There's already a long line. What? Sorry? You want to live longer? Go to the sales department, they'll give you a lifetime warranty or... Pardon? What if you want to be...you? Is that, uhm...is that really necessary? I don't think we have any slots left. Everything's been taken by people who are pretending to be themselves. You know that be yourself just don't be yourself self thing? It's much more economic. Feigning authenticity. And it's a whole new trend now. Hm?... I'm sorry, that's not our job. We are here to make you digestible, not happy. See, happiness didn't sell well... Is it really that urgent, though? Can't it wait 'till another life?

0

Apr 26

Apr 26, 2026 at 6:06 PM UTC

Ioulia

Life account

You're new here? Okay. Take a number, take a seat. Now, listen. Have a carrer at 20. A baby at 30. Get divorced at 40, if you must. 50, high time for a menopause. At 60, maybe join a chess club? Just don't lose track of time. There's already a long line. What? Sorry? You want to live longer? Go to the sales department, they'll give you a lifetime warranty or... Pardon? What if you want to be...you? Is that, uhm...is that really necessary? I don't think we have any slots left. Everything's been taken by people who are pretending to be themselves. You know that be yourself just don't be yourself self thing? It's much more economic. Feigning authenticity. And it's a whole new trend now. Hm?... I'm sorry, that's not our job. We are here to make you digestible, not happy. See, happiness didn't sell well... Is it really that urgent, though? Can't it wait 'till another life?

26

Join the tattooed urban tribes! Share the Maoris’ drumming vibes. Fire brand your love onto your heart. Show that holy stigmata don't hurt. Place *** at the apex. Chisel deep into your flesh What is cash and what is trash. Set your body apart as a work of art. Don’t be a naked human monkey. Don't let anyone know you're funky. Turn your taboos into tattoos. But at night, take off your shoes and put to sleep your tattoos. Then sink under your skin and meet yourself behind the scene. Perhaps, you’ll see tattoo as nothing new (I’m afraid) than the old skin trade.

0

Feb 1, 2021

Feb 1, 2021 at 8:50 PM UTC

sergiodib

TATTOO

Join the tattooed urban tribes! Share the Maoris’ drumming vibes. Fire brand your love onto your heart. Show that holy stigmata don't hurt. Place *** at the apex. Chisel deep into your flesh What is cash and what is trash. Set your body apart as a work of art. Don’t be a naked human monkey. Don't let anyone know you're funky. Turn your taboos into tattoos. But at night, take off your shoes and put to sleep your tattoos. Then sink under your skin and meet yourself behind the scene. Perhaps, you’ll see tattoo as nothing new (I’m afraid) than the old skin trade.

19

I know what you want, But I refuse you to give it It was never my wont To comfort with this base ****

0

Jan 19, 2020

Jan 19, 2020 at 1:57 AM UTC

s-i-n

I Know What You Want

I know what you want, But I refuse you to give it It was never my wont To comfort with this base ****

4

I don't mind the pebble in my shoe I don't mind three words that lost their core I don't mind the hidden scars on my back I don't mind anything anymore.

0

Nov 4, 2017

Nov 4, 2017 at 12:01 PM UTC

courtofowls

Shell

I don't mind the pebble in my shoe I don't mind three words that lost their core I don't mind the hidden scars on my back I don't mind anything anymore.

8

I could drive you to the city, So you could hear how loud they scream. Amidst the dust and torn grey ribbon, Through their cold and granite dreams. And i can't remember home. And we could up and leave the city, Because we fear how loud they scream. Unwilling to be deafened, By the cries of concrete teens. And we're lost within our home. And we could sit outside the city, Watch their bleak fire fuel their screams. Find our fields of warming yellow, And smile inside our dreams. And i can't remember home. Reimburse my colour. Exit through the grey window.

0

Apr 17, 2016

Apr 17, 2016 at 2:27 AM UTC

jackwestland

Exit Through The Grey Window

I could drive you to the city, So you could hear how loud they scream. Amidst the dust and torn grey ribbon, Through their cold and granite dreams. And i can't remember home. And we could up and leave the city, Because we fear how loud they scream. Unwilling to be deafened, By the cries of concrete teens. And we're lost within our home. And we could sit outside the city, Watch their bleak fire fuel their screams. Find our fields of warming yellow, And smile inside our dreams. And i can't remember home. Reimburse my colour. Exit through the grey window.

17