"conformed" poems
Blessed be the transgender one,
Gave up on life to seek the sun,
Bigoted parents, insidious friends.
Her heart be broken and so it ended.
This girl believed she didn't matter.
Conformed to societies issues,
Everyone said she was meant to.
The vicious encounters of supposed normality,
Bought you to your desperate knees.
You have your wings now.
Fly sweet child be young and free.
Rest in peace, in sweet relief.
(C) LIVVI
DEDICATED TO LEELAH (Josh Alcorn)
The Ohio transgender teenager who committed suicide, in response to prejudice.
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 11:52 AM UTC
Blessed be the transgender one,
Gave up on life to seek the sun,
Bigoted parents, insidious friends.
Her heart be broken and so it ended.
This girl believed she didn't matter.
Conformed to societies issues,
Everyone said she was meant to.
The vicious encounters of supposed normality,
Bought you to your desperate knees.
You have your wings now.
Fly sweet child be young and free.
Rest in peace, in sweet relief.
(C) LIVVI
Dec 31, 2014
Dec 31, 2014 at 12:07 PM UTC
The epidemic of conformity consumes all
Children play by board game rules
Stifled by the world to paint a proper picture
They draw flowers of red with stems of green
Fields of wildflowers viewed as weeds enveloped in insecticides
Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo, and Violet
That is a rainbow, in that order alone
We are taught to live by the colors in a box of eight crayons
But even so, those colors cannot make a proper rainbow
A rainbow should be praised if drawn in mixed-breed hues
That field of flowers, natures pallet
We should begin with a box of 124 and grow infinitely
Where lilac dragons can live in cherry trees
Where those waist-high weeds hide the predator from the prey
For where would we be without cops and robbers, or hide and seek
In a world where out of sight incites widespread panic
Children's laughter in the sun is slowly silenced by the rules
Instead, embrace the joy and encourage creativity
We should harbor imagination and develop unreality
For it is there that is born the ideas that will form the future
Oct 22, 2011
Oct 22, 2011 at 10:59 AM UTC
i steal.
i smoke.
i drink.
i gamble.
i punch.
i hurt.
i ****
you see me as red. the ever color of anger.
you see me as green. the hue of greed and disgust.
you see me as black. the epitome of darkness.
but i'm in every way just like you.
i cry.
i fall.
i get hurt.
i get sick.
i get scared.
i make mistakes.
i die.
you don't see me as blue. a sadness conformed into a hue.
you don't see me as purple. an embodiment of fear.
you don't see me as white. the ever innocent color.
because before I was this, I was just like you.
and i guess you'll never see how the evil in me brought out the good in you.
Apr 27, 2018
Apr 27, 2018 at 1:57 AM UTC
As they walked along after the matinee, the older brother teased his sister, “Hey, guess what, Frankenstein lives in the attic and he’s goin’ get you.” With a flushed face the little sister responded, "Nah-ah, besides the attic door is locked." And her brother smirked, “Think Frankenstein cares about locked doors?"
Throughout their childhood, the brother jumped out behind closed doors, terrifying his little sister, and with each fright he gave his own fear seemed to lessen. After a startle the sister thought, ‘Does my brother love me, like I love him?’, and she concluded, “He must, why else would he try to scare me to death?’
Within the decade, a sudden brain hemorrhage took their dearly loved mother. Now, untethered in their mother’s love, the siblings changed, tightened, within, While their father, a traumatized, war veteran, swiftly fell off the wagon, and the brother and sister cast off, rudderless, uprooted into troubled waters.
And with their hearts snapped shut, immersed in relentless grief, they parted ways. Some years later, their father died, bequeathed them both his unhealed pain. The brother, the sister, slid secretively into alcoholism, conceded the family custom, invested deeply in their despair, the two went on, married, raised families, conformed.
And time went by, as alcohol soothed the pain until the brother breathed his last, his belly taut with fluid, his liver destroyed, a life sentence ended. While she, the lone survivor, mysteriously yielded unto Grace and was pardoned, recovered, she finally understood, she knew deep inside; everyone did the best they could, even her.
…and within a circle of one; I loved them all forever and ever.
Apr 13, 2014
Apr 13, 2014 at 11:53 AM UTC
a gift for Aladdin Aures H
from his 3rd follower...
<>><<>
the inescapable need,
unformed firmament
inquiring; am I capable?
the impulse palpable,
the urge to urgent,
to gorge and disgorge?
instead of morning prayers,
precomposed and ordered,
morning poem plucked from
morning fog, gusted breezes,
early-on, newborn sun rays,
progeny of disheveled skies
words fused, in irregular sizes,
senses censured by drowsy eyes,
but the chest beating arrhythmia
means bursts of free verses
superimposed on reluctant eyelids,
jigsaw puzzlement be re-conformed
and the first poem of the day,
emerges from the intersection
of mind, pale dreams, and the
first is special till the neu morrow,
when fresh bursts explode inward
to windward, and the first is just
yesterday's mesh of hash,
once formidable, now last,
pinned, yellowing, purely a
**descendant of the recent,
but always, ancient past*^
Jun 19, 2025
Jun 19, 2025 at 3:13 PM UTC
Black blueberries buttoned by *****
Black blueberries buttoned by *****
This wasn't yours to loose
Nothing was yours to loose
Black blueberries backed by bench men
Bench men that sit on side lines
Thinking
When will the golden moment be
To break through; proving themselves
Worthy of the benched boxes they be in
Everyday
Because
They believe in benevolence
Black blueberries busting through my *****
Black blueberries busting through my *****
Better than bullets
Better than bullets
Better than bombs and turrets
Better than ballistic knifes and skillets
And arsenals of ignorance bettered with bills
Bills I pay to ensure my life is ready to die
Is it a matter of our collective thoughts?
Those black blueberries are buried
And not because I am becoming a black blueberry I say this
But because life begins with black blueberries
Who all turn into nothing but pale *****
All conformed
Not to natural laws
But to the cognitive bacterial infection
Called education
Turning us to blue blueberries
Blue blueberries
And grand building bannered with ********
Black blueberries are bored
Black blueberries are right
Black blueberries are always right…
Apr 30, 2013
Apr 30, 2013 at 1:27 PM UTC
Freedom and independence are not synonymous
We have many freedoms
But zero independence
Independence is freedom
Freedom is not independence
What we celebrate is a false holiday
It's a cheap *** excuse to drink
And set **** aflame
What we celebrate is a false holiday
Once meant to portray
Our braking away
What we celebrate is a false holiday
That makes life seem like a joke
Because we've conformed too much
I have the freedom to say whatever
I **** well feel like
But I am not independent from fear
Or tyranny
This is America
Land of the stupid
Home of hatred
Everywhere I turn I see
Persecution
Oppression
For religion, *** and race
For orientations and confusions
For thought and for ideas
This is America
Not some fluffy dreamland
Like so many of us make it out to be
Yes I will be ready to admit
We are certainly freer than most
And yes, I will be ready to defend
My country with my words
But I can't sit on the sidelines
And just watch as my land falls to ****
"Happy Independence Day"
It breaks my heart that we have to declare a day
To recognize independence
It's a false independence we celebrate
I love the fireworks and the lightheartedness of it all
But it's ********
We shouldn't have to label a day
On a calendar
For historical emphasis
Woohoo Declaration of Independence
And all that jazz
But it no longer seems that way
Equality has never existed
This America, not an Aboriginal society
Pursuit of happiness is impossible
Because one person's happiness destroys another's
Liberty and justice for all?
Yeah right
Happy Independence Day to all who believe
But as for me
Independence my ***
Jul 4, 2016
Jul 4, 2016 at 12:28 PM UTC
If we lived in a non-judgmental world,
where social norm were a blank slate
free of preconceptions and expectations,
a world in which it was traditional to be liberal,
what would you do?
Would you work this hard or drive fast cars?
Would you read 50 Shades of Grey in the train?
Would you still cry in the rain?
Would you be outgoing or spend more time alone?
Would you laugh at funerals and never mourn?
Would you wear your pyjamas for Sunday mass?
Would you identify yourself with the working class?
Would you use two forks or wear socks with flip flops?
Would you avoid dating jocks?
Would you take up smoking or marry young?
Would you tattoo your face and pierce your tongue?
Would you work as a stripper whilst being a nun?
Would you form a jihad against wars and guns?
Would you become straight, forget how to pray
or wish your first born son were gay?
Would you ever fake an ******
or admit you like it rough?
Would you follow the stars and lucky charms
leaving all life's decisions to luck?
Would you believe in evolution and gravity,
or argue we're heavy people with sticky feet?
Would you avoid salad or order tofu?
Would you try to go up a dress size or two?
Would you give to charity or take up a sport?
Would you sell your house and buy a boat?
Would you order expensive wines or
write poems that did not rhyme?
What would you do?
Perhaps you simply wouldn't have a clue,
for we appear to have forgotten how to be true.
So when ever a Miley comes like a wrecking ball
we unite to share our disbelief and loathe.
As we did to Snowden and Jesus Christ,
we mock and torture and crucify.
The UN, CIA and the Vatican unite,
to teach us how to lead our lives.
For when someone somewhere breaks a norm
that someone somewhere has formed
it has become a universal priority
for the former to be conformed.
Perhaps in this non-judgmental world,
we might decide to start judging each other...
Dec 7, 2013
Dec 7, 2013 at 2:17 PM UTC
Can you determine the Cause of this Spite
By Twin Connections of Mistakes long past?
That which must be Forgiven; And Enlight
To soothe those Swollen Muscles at long last
I think there was a Page which left unread
Caused many Translations to poison us
That Philosophy: If Thoughts can be dead
Then reinstate that Puppet in a Bus
Who knew all his Movements were Concepts formed
And those Ring-Joints dictate his every Move
But this: Illusion and Concept conformed
Thinking these are actual Gifts from Above.
My Point, is that all these Frictions we had
Were Real Illusions; And Concepts bad.
Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 2:34 AM UTC
See this heart encased by imperfect skin
It masks the beauty that is locked within
Because society has no eyes to look inside
At the beauty that commercials hide
We see perfection as an image to high
That we fight to make ourselves try
to be something that will never make sense
In this sad world that encourages this
We hear names screamed out at us
to morph us into something, while society laughs at us
It's telling us if we fit the role
then maybe you'll be considered full
They tell you to be yourself then list out what to change
And if your opinions are different you're suddenly strange
If you don't look or act or live a certain way
Then you're automatically cast out and shamed
Hold your head up high and press on
Because I won't be conformed to a society
That's hiding me
Because I'm not who they say I should be
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 11:33 PM UTC
Yes, I use violent imagery
Correction: I love using violent imagery
Does that annoy you?
Somehow set you off?
Is it because you wish
That I was a bit more 'normal'
A bit less pronounced, obvious
About who I am?
Are you annoyed because
You wish I'd feel embarrased
Of this part of myself?
Does it **** you off
To see me proudly display
My inner self-
all of it-
Without any of your foolish
Censoring?
Is it perhaps because
I am attempting to accept myself
Whatever I might be, its entirety?
Does it anger you
Because you
You bowed your head
And conformed when
Someone else came
And censored you?
But I
I refuse to do the same
For this is me
And I am not going to
Pick apart and,
Cut out
The bits of me you don't like
The shards
That form the complete picture
I refuse to allow
You to touch them
For this is ME
ME
*Not you
Not your domain*
NOT under your control
Aug 24, 2013
Aug 24, 2013 at 12:21 AM UTC
I'm not who I once was
This me is scary
Because I'm me on the outside
I've become everything
I've always wanted to be
On the inside
I've conformed
To nothing but decay
Like shriveled moss
Clinging to a grave
May 24, 2013
May 24, 2013 at 2:53 PM UTC
The government is like a feeding black hole; ******* everything inward into a swirling vortex until everything reaches one simple, conformed point; singularity. Instead, transmute yourself into something else, something much stronger than the tug of gravity and explore the outer reaches beyond the event horizon. Become unique and delve deeper than before.
Nov 27, 2010
Nov 27, 2010 at 4:48 PM UTC
I spent my boyhood avoiding
the disgrace of my differences.
Creating alternate empires that
I ruled with stoic passion.
I gave out negative vibrations, as a boy,
to control the level of association.
Built walls and lived within them,
perfectly encased in sarcastic wisdom.
Does not take too long to understand
that being yourself is not suggested.
Eager advocates educate the boy that his
differences must be suppressed.
Be the same. Be the same. Be the same.
Moulded and conformed, unaware
of the boyhood desiring to think for self.
I spent my boyhood reading books
that opened libraries of imagination.
Absorbing the solitary creations
of so many magnificent lives. They presented
me with echoes of alternatives.
I never have understood the slicked back
membrane of uncentred filters.
Solitary self-confinement made so
much more tickled sense to me.
I passed out scented cigars of me
to ear-drums inclined to not listen.
They agreed to, and supported,
the numbness of not thinking.
Letting the self-declared prophets
dictate how we must believe.
I spent my boyhood being the boy
that did not fit the paper model.
Set it on fire. Set it on fire. Let the
message always be that a man
must indicate his own set of standards.
May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 9:25 PM UTC
I don't know how to whine or cry about it.
It feels like misery.
Something I deserve, something I don't deserve.
I don't know;
Is it all the sins of being hopelessly romantic? -
That the one time I find myself the ideal mate,
I lose her; for my sins. I blame my sins.
My wasteful sins.
I've wasted many-a-hearts.
Unrequited.
Not interested.
Really.
There she was. I was standing in front of a mirror.
Alone. There she was.
In a dress, long hair, a smile, tantalizing lips;
my personality, my interests, my views; a recluse - we.
Yet, alone in front of this mirror, it was She I saw.
Not I.
Her. I saw her.
She was me. I was her. We were I.
At least in the sense - in my sense - we were I.
I saw myself in her. I saw us in her. I saw her in us.
It was confusing; Aren't opposites suppose to attract?
Yet, there I was, attracted to the female version of my own mirror image.
She was refreshing. I had been alone. I am alone.
There she was, an image of me. I want to be alone with her.
I wanted.
Thing is;
Love is a minor - always childish - always unrequited.
Everything I saw was everything that never presented itself to her.
I found myself caught in an deceitful delusion.
I conformed myself into a conforming.
She was the idea that was not an idea - but became THE idea.
I saw perfect in her. Perfect in everything that was not perfect.
I saw love in everything that was not loveable.
I saw time in everything that was not worth my time.
I saw us in everything that was not us. It was never us.
She - I, trapped in a delusion.
I saw everything I wanted, but love is a minor - childish.
Everything I want was for someone else to have.
She was for someone else to have. Someone else has her.
And I;
I am alone.
I have no 'her'.
No She.
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 5:19 PM UTC
dreams as validation for smooth
rhythmic notions cascading like
fingers, waterfalls slipped from
tongues laced with crisp sheets
(the ivory ladders fallen sideways and
forgotten in the wake of racing hearts)
slow down, reconvene behind mirrored
aspiration, compose stars that pulse with each
ache for your company, flicker to the pace of
water running, an escapee from the space of
world around you conformed, blanketed
sleep like a waterwheel
Apr 26, 2013
Apr 26, 2013 at 10:03 PM UTC
Cheese
Simply fermented
Curds and whey, minus the whey
Fantastic with meat
And fruit
And bread
Creamy, sweet, and soft
Or
Sharp , hard, and strong
Fancy, or plain
Expensive, artisan, specialised
Cheap, processed, conformed
Cheesey, cheesey, cheese
Dec 19, 2012
Dec 19, 2012 at 7:57 AM UTC
We were born untainted like empty canvas; a bud of roses.
But as time linger we digress from our innocence and actual selves.
We were scratched and polished, from diamonds pulvarized to dirt.
The facade we kept after succumbing to society’s propriety became us,
And the true face and being what we were became lost in time.
The mirror no longer reveals us, because we metamorphosed to someone else.
Another face in society, swallowed by the world’s expectations and encumbrance.
The appropriateness of etiquette, social conformity, and worldly priorities.
Day by day, we became less of ourselves, and more like everyone else.
Converging needs and wants, we lost our personal uniqueness,
And it seems like our attempt to be different is the same as everyone’s else.
By and by, we effort for elopement to get out of the box is futile – rather impossible.
Epitome of wealth and exclusiveness; highest degree of poverty and martyrdom.
In between those of extreme pillars, everyone seems to be in between and at both sides.
The world has become more dimensional, efficient, yet ineffective.
For our sweat and blood goes out for the wrong reasons;
And we fight against one another, (thus fighting against ourselves), to become the winner.
The winners aren’t actually victorious; neither are the loser the ultimate champions.
And this is only a mere microcosm,
to signify how the multifarious constituents that the world has formed:
a composite, complex, compound conformed convolution.
Apr 20, 2012
Apr 20, 2012 at 12:07 PM UTC
listening as the
sea hears the
moon and sun
cascading flow or
pulling away
melded in
********
tortured ecstasy
creating
a thousand words
for every birds
eye view
my body giving in
to
my mind
my soul somewhere
in-between
silent worlds
of unseen eyes and inward probing
these neurotic bodies
swaying visceral waters
deeper currents not
complying as yet in
this cosmic
****** of
light & darkness matter & void
affecting only the surface
pulling back
only waves
pushing them back
to the ever-changing
shoreline
when affecting
only the surface
it appears to
be dull monotony
at the beck and call of the
moon's every whim...
oh
and other orbs play
their part with her
but infinitely deeper
dramatic ebb and
flow
cannot be witnessed
by the seagull's gaze
the thoughts of the soul
are faint or nil
in the patterns of
vision-mind
our bodies
listening to this galactic
dialogue seethe
in stagnant waters
when the mind like the
moon is all she
hears
or whatever brings
in a stronger
signal
we have taken her away
kept her estranged as
mutated cells eating away
conformed to the
image of an empty shell
of a neutral network
caught in a degenerative loop
a dense
gravitational pull slowly
leading her along
into the vortex of the
absence of light
yet something our minds
cannot understand as
yet is developing
out of sight-mind after
the imploding of her
beautiful
mass
after
the burning-out of
countless worlds
beyond
even the furthest reach
of the poetic
eye
a genesis beyond eden
attempting with
greater resolve to
orchestrate the divine
purpose of the
primeval garden
rearranged
and tuned to higher
******** harmony
the new
birth of soul leading
body & mind
her voice
being the gravitational orb
swaying visceral
waters and deeper currents
complying this
time around.
Jan 22, 2017
Jan 22, 2017 at 7:59 PM UTC
I am hated
I am feared
because to no god
am I adhered
I can love,
and I can feel.
I'm not that different.
So what's the deal?
Your parents' ideals
at a young age,
forced upon you.
Where is your rage?
Your teenage spirit,
our "open" generation.
How can you stand
the segregation?
Unique identity?
You don't mind.
But in this way I differ?
Oh, the problems you find.
We boast of equality,
Freedom of speech.
But in the justice of our nation,
I've found a breach.
In our lovely America,
we don't discriminate.
But take a small survey -
It's atheists we hate:
Our ungodly ways
Our acceptance of others
Our selfish lives
Our care for our brothers
The First Amendment:
Secularism’s a must.
Now look at our money:
"In god we trust"?
But tell me now -
of which god do you speak?
Thor, Zeus, Allah?
Which god should I seek?
And tell me now! -
Why seek any?
You want me to choose?
There are so many.
And logically it follows
that no god is right.
Even if you believe in one,
try to see the light.
Think of the hundreds
of gods you suppress
There's no reasoning to it,
I must confess.
You fling feeble fights
Filled with hate
Don't try to change me,
it's too late.
I'm on my path,
so I'll keep walking
You can come too,
if you just stop talking.
You preach and you shout
I know your belief.
If you believe, I don't care
If you don't, sweet relief.
You call me close-minded
But just listen to me;
I've tried and you haven't
You've never tried to see.
I've listened for hours
I've tried to think what you think
And if I tell you what I believe
You disregard me without a blink
Now take a moment here,
just a short pause,
to realize what I say
Let it sink in its claws.
I know both sides
I've chosen my own
You know one side
What has that shown?
It's not that hard
to get informed.
But it's much easier
to say conformed.
If you knew both sides,
you might change your mind.
Is that why I'm scary?
Would you rather stay blind?
This is all we have
Does that cause dismay?
Use your life wisely
don't use it to pray
"Be grateful for what you have"
Cherish this life
Cherish our world,
it's not a cause for strife
You've been given so much,
but not by your "Lord"
Accept what it is
and put down your sword
Let go of your anger
Why do you fight?
Why can’t you see
that our future is bright?
Be who you are,
never fear retribution.
Being true to myself
is my own contribution
I am unimportant and small
I know this quite well.
You can know too,
You won't be sent to hell
Our own earth
is where we laugh and love
Live - don't waste your life waiting
for the nothing above.
This is all your time,
your time to feel.
So make it count.
And make it real.
Dec 7, 2010
Dec 7, 2010 at 2:31 PM UTC
When I was young,
I had a dream,
Just a small house,
down by a stream,
Far away from all that mattered,
All the dreams that ended shattered,
Just a home where I could roam,
And be me....
Call it causality, maybe reality,
Call it a God, who looks
Tearfully, down at me,
Call it an arrogance,
call it ambition,
Never conformed, you can call it
Attrition,
Call it a fantasy, call it
My lunacy, call it
my dream...
But in my madness, and still,
In my sadness, There's something
I cling to with hope and a prayer
That one day I'll find it, or worse,
Leave behind it, but still it remains
Like the chains that bind it to me...
When I was young
I had a dream,
Just a small house,
down by a stream,
Call it a fantasy, call it
My lunacy, call it
my dream...
Apr 25, 2023
Apr 25, 2023 at 11:27 AM UTC