"conforms" poems
Love trusts, lust twists
Love rains, lust drains
Love reaches, lust catches
Love couples, lust combines
Love retains, lust detains
Love relies, lust relays
Love cares, lust caresses
Love binds, lust blinds
Love floats, lust flees
Love belongs, lust longs
Love ascends, lust descends
Love fames, lust defames
Love creates, lust recreates
Love commands, lust demands
Love chooses, lust chases
Love boosts, lust boasts
Love at heart
Lust in mind
Love in lust is good
Lust in love is better
Love likes privacy
Lust looks for piracy
Love opens lust
Lust closes love
Love is slow, lust is fast
Love is steady and stable
Lust is mobile and fragile
Love is reliable, lust is liable
Love is long, lust is short
Love is homogeneous
Lust is heterogeneous
Love is defensive
Lust is offensive
Love is precious
Lust is pernicious
Love is supportive
Lust is supplementary
Love is refined
Lust is defined
Love betters life
Lust batters it.
Love has character
Lust has conduct
Love wins over
Lust weans out
Love combines
Lust divides
Love is cool
Lust is crazy
Love is peaceful
Lust is pleasant
Love is wholesome
Lust is piecemeal
Lust comes first
Love becomes best
Love is progressive
Lust is aggressive
Lust laminates
Love illuminates
Love is slow n steady
Lust is hasty n nasty
Love is dense, lust is tense
Lust is conditioned,
Love is air-conditioned
Lust is lovely to begin with
Love is lustrous to end up
Love heals, lust wounds
Love owns, lust disowns
Love is onus, lust is onerous
Love is basic, lust is allowance
Love conforms, lust confuses
Love binds, lust blinds
Be aware of love
Beware of lust
That comes like
wolf in sheep’s clothing
Let the fair blend
of love and lust
rule the roost
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 5:15 AM UTC
Light of my life,
The slings and arrows
Of outrageous fortune
Bloom a rose
In the deeps of my heart.
And so I came forth
But could not behold the stars.
The slings and arrows,
They trespassed upon my thoughts.
And I cried that I came
To this great stage of fools,
But it echoed loudly within me
Because I am hollow at the core.
That outward existence which conforms,
This inward life which questions
Confusion now hath made his masterpiece of.
I don't exactly know
What I mean by that,
But I mean it.
Nov 17, 2016
Nov 17, 2016 at 11:30 PM UTC
When in Bohemia, she screams about
Her pastures green, but not too loud
So never have I known, that the world listens too
As a comedian, I see she belongs
But never conforms, to the song of
This nomad world, I'm glad she found it too
So run! She wants to run again
You vagabond, you're well-spent
Bohemian tendencies says, “you can't stay long”
“These kinds of commons, you won't ever get along”
Armenian, it’s such a release
Materialistic animosity
The speed of life has no value, like dollar signs
I loved an alien, who dabbled in art
Of all visage, enema of the heart
Wanderer, she's spent so much but there's that bliss in the air
So smile! It's all sorts of worthwhile
To see a world and not fret so much
Bohemian tendencies says, “be spectacular
Before the nebula men steal your fur”
In the Caribbean, you dream a kite
As your taxi, you can't walk all the time
Travel hills of puce-mauve sands, the world in trance
A true deviant, the thinking of
All dreaming thoughts, and loves begot
Tinkerer, what will we do when our brains run dry?
Oh, no! Don't think about the end
To love a life in due pretence
Bohemian tendencies says, “think fair, live now”
“The world is watching with distaste of time in doubt”
As a chameleon, should she go alone?
The world is cold, except for times in colour
Her world in dance, she'll do without me
When in Bohemian, the first I've seen
Of pastel stencils through her happi-
Ness-tled in her loft home of the wind
There she goes! Ain’t she a lovely wing?
I hope she finds a world that sings
Bohemian tendencies says, “to love and to hold
But to let go, for treasures can mold”
There she goes
There she goes
There she goes
Oct 14, 2018
Oct 14, 2018 at 3:39 PM UTC
Early afternoon rain
crusted eyes cracking open
at the trickling sound of
pattering puddles
Moisture conforms you
hugs dry skin tight
frizzing stray hairs
leaving them a flight
There is peace
tranquility in this moment
Waking the mind
resolving the heart
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 3:10 PM UTC
Just as the pyramids would,
In the deserts of Cairo,
Snow-capped mountains gleam distant,
As if Kings on the Main.
This distance complete,
Through the eyes of the beholder,
As from a sea-sided office,
We with watch with wonder lust.
Bright streetlights,
And red lights, and green lights,
And stop signs,
As decadent name-change,
Perceives as if older,
As bigger, as bolder.
Musicians and artists,
Poets and Marxists,
Authors and boxers,
All convene to sing songs,
As egalitarianism,
Sings us a calm, blinded lullaby,
As the idea to be grasped,
In this young mind of mine.
They call this no small town,
In which not one arcade resides;
Gun crime is never,
In percent, as we ride,
A wave of communal,
Small-town "world peace,"
We'll take some money,
Off the governments lease.
In a sense we are distant,
Different, contesting,
A world which conforms,
As if all can and will be,
A slave to a master,
Sociopathic disaster,
As we run faster and faster,
Away from that stream.
We are the masters of our fate,
As we rate the world's hate,
On a scale from 1 to 10.
We are secluded,
Yet unconfused, not diluted;
We are more aware of this world,
Than it is of itself.
We set the sidelines,
As guidelines to life,
As we watch with some bias,
As we remain neutral to strife.
We are the Power,
And we are the River,
Ripped from the main-stream,
We create; we are free.
Sep 20, 2010
Sep 20, 2010 at 10:29 PM UTC
Change tackles a broad spectrum of life.
You change your hair, you change your underwear, you change your shoes.
How the hell could someone change their Personalities in the blink of an eye.
Can some one so thoughtful and sensitive turn into such a **** with the turn of one sentence phrase and punctuation.
She storms in on her high horse ready to take the world by storm with her fury.
She may say im her world but what have i done to deserve such punishments.
I asked a Question.
The fatalities of words and sentence structures leave a gaping hole in the ego and sense of trust.
Sense of what is right and wrong cuz what is right by all does not apply to her.
Her mind twists and bends to form views and morals that not even a twisted fairy tale can concoct.
What she fights for doesnt fit the way of the world.
She believes in things that will never happen, that make no sense. She fights for views that will leave her fighting forever.
She is a non conformist but she conforms to stereotypes that go against her better thinking.
The way she used to think.
Stress has got her in a headlock, cutting off her brain's circulatory flow of intelligent words and clean blood.
She inhales.
Breathes in a mixture of smoke and unclean thoughts.
Yea, she can stop.
She's walking corruption.
Digesting poison in the pit of her stomach killing the butterflies she claim died.
Yea they died.
In a fiery pit of lies and hypocrisy that gets you nowhere.
She tells me her worst thoughts and wishes but her honesty doesnt justify the unjust actions that go against who she was.
Who is she becoming?
Someone who is dependent on drugs and drinks to make her happy Cuz she doesnt have the ***** to go against the grain and
Stick to her guns and stay clean and fresh,
Keeping her lungs pink and her brain free,
free to believe and grow with each intake of air not smoke.
I hate to see it happen but she is just like the others.
**** views take the form of rolled up paper.
Not an application but a temptation.
Non conformists need not apply.
Jan 3, 2010
Jan 3, 2010 at 12:35 PM UTC
The rhythm of the cosmos
Is a waltz
In three steps
Create
Sustain
Decay
A movement
To which all of life
And so art conforms
From literature
With it's beginning
Middle
End
To the great civilizations of the Earth
That rise
Hold
Fall
Just as chest draw breath
As she sleeps
Or the theologians speak
Of their holy trinity
The metaphysical systems of old Indus Valley
Create
Sustain
Decay
Making way for the new notes
We play
As the old fade
Into silence
One step
Two step
Three
Come and dance with me
As the stars inhale
And hold their breath
As we find our feet gracefully
And move in the moment we have
One step
Two step
...
Mar 9, 2015
Mar 9, 2015 at 1:45 PM UTC
People are never who you expect them to be
No one conforms, in the simplest sense
We all move on; we all change
Nothing is solid, nothing remains
Walk on as the road behind you crumbles.
Jul 18, 2010
Jul 18, 2010 at 8:29 AM UTC
Im consider futile for voicing my opinion
I can't comprehend the mediocrity society conforms to
personally I don't want to live behind a desk my entire life searching for a happiness I subconsciously know I will never find at a job I hate along with a life I hate
But unfortunately I guess I'm just considered weird for craving a life beyond the measures of currency and income.
Maybe im just weird for not wanting to contribute toward this stagnant image of how to live our lives.
creativity is abruptly drained out of our mind my the education system who sees us as nothing more than a mere statistic
I refuse to conform and one day while you are sitting at the job you can't bare any longer
you will think of this
With regret
deeper than your hidden depression
and think "he was right"
Aug 15, 2014
Aug 15, 2014 at 5:40 PM UTC
the people swarm like ants
that’s what they say, isn’t it?
but they’re not like ants
at all, really.
ants have a purpose, a structure
they scrabble across the pavement as the sun beats down
with a common goal
carrying huge leaves between them
thousands of times their weight
nor are people like wildebeest
who stampede wildly across the plains:
LIONS! RUN!
their purpose is logical
their goal is survival
but people
people swarm in great swarthy swathes
sweating their way through the summer
slipping and
shivering their way through the snow
there are so many of them, and
their goals are so individual
so complex
not for them the ingrained logical processions
not for them the sole desperate stampede away from danger
no.
they have a society
have a culture
and wrapped in the cloaks of their conforms and their norms
they slither through the daylight
take up the space around them
give no heed to how they’re filling it
or who must take it next.
it’s why i like the early mornings
and the late night times
when the world is empty
barren
silent and pure
untainted by the congestion of the day.
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 10:28 AM UTC
The road to truth has many immure & acquiescent turns
Many tough battles with fire has left marks from many burns
Gruesomely the darkest hours of life are in the nugatory lies
The state of mind conforms with with deception as it so complies
It repeats on and on in the wild confines of a diabolical sequel
Its seems life is so riddled with impractical & daunting ways
People with poisoned minds, so narcissistic & shameful as it stays
To intersect with a soul of opulent loyalty & truth is seldom & blessed
But the severity of impeccability & prevarication having a fine line,
is a realization so strongly stressed...
©Michael P. Smith
Mar 17, 2013
Mar 17, 2013 at 6:31 AM UTC
don't tell me how to write poetry or how to write stories or how to write at all. don't tell me there's a rhyme or reason to this; don't tell me that i should be using iambic pentameter or separating each line into delicate sestets or molding metaphors out of things that were never intended to be meaningful. don't tell me that there are rules i need to follow and that nothing i ever make will be precious and valuable and wholesome unless it conforms to the artistic, intellectual way of doing things because i am not artistic and i am not intellectual and i will write however i please because my writing is imbedded layers beneath my skin, so far down i could never tear it out in any way that wasn't raw or real or rustic. don't make those parts of me insincere simply to hold them to ideals set by different old writers in older times with different old feelings and dreams and beliefs than mine. don't tell me how to write. don't tell me how to not be me.
Jan 8, 2017
Jan 8, 2017 at 7:19 PM UTC
Awareness
Mind being branded by societal norms,
The heart gradually conforms.
It’s the free spirit that transcends these bars
And savors the freedom of the unknown path.
As I stand today bound in body, mind and heart,
While unbounded in my spirit and thoughts
Till “awareness” rends asunder
These gossamer bonds
Indu
10/06/2008
Nov 23, 2012
Nov 23, 2012 at 9:30 PM UTC
.
There is a presence here,
can't you feel it crackling
through the evening air?
Creeping into the mind
as an invasion by consent.
A candle flame flickers
as an errant string thrums,
a note of announcement
and precedent to an army
set to join the invasion.
There is a presence here,
can't you feel it cloying
at open waiting ears,
seeping over the babble
as an intrusion most welcome.
A chord breaks silence
as a voice slow gently hums
a prelude to old new songs,
an accompaniment to a jangle
as the errant string conforms.
There is a presence here,
can't you hear it calling
to the blood in your veins,
freezing the moments solid,
speaking at corpuscular levels.
An excitement of particles
agitate an expectant atmosphere,
curved air starts to resonate
an apocryphal truism that
there is a Presence … here.
© Pagan Paul (15/01/20)
Jan 23, 2020
Jan 23, 2020 at 5:38 AM UTC
I watch dead birds dance
around the campfire.
Their chirps sound like thousands of years ago.
I can feel it working.
The coyote's rhythmic panting
conforms to my heartbeat.
Bedridden is given to the gods as a sacrifice.
But I need to find my body...
The warmth from the ashes and timber
combined with the midnight air
massages and entangles my hair.
The body I have is is fading...
My eyes are pulling me back
the wind hushes my cries.
The mountains weigh me down.
Breathing is no longer an issue...
Aug 22, 2011
Aug 22, 2011 at 11:19 PM UTC
I feel the cold energies of doubting eyes upon me ,there.
A place where one conforms to be accepted and to be accepted means
constant actions of the "Norm."
Logic is that there is no "Normal."
We define such from how we experienced life and how our parents
taught us what was "Husband and Wife."
They lead to be examples. And a great job they did.
However, clever as they are, there are closets for which their
"Skeletons" must have been placed.
Silence , from them, a "forgotten act from the morbid....."
Ways to ward Off People's "Cold Eyes..."
Watching them after they broke. what was to be,forever, the "norm."
Me, I'm open. "True to thy own self."
My own definitions.
Respectful of others space in which they define "Prudent."
Definitions of what "slot" you fill; "Celebrity" or "fan?"
"Worth-While" or "Unneeded"
"Peer,"Stranger," or "President."
These are all labels to define our places. On Stages in the Play of life.
Do we act in this "scene?" or do we "Wait" until our "Proper Casting" to read a certain line and act out another "script?"
Since I haven't the time to weigh "positions" on "what" I am as an "equal?"
Or, "Strange Peer....?"
My kind heart and supportive Notions- I love to "earn" all ears to "Hear."
My calling to the masses - "I've earned a place in this script to act upon and to be heard..."
As a proven equal in this "crowd..."
Even as I sneak in from being a person from an "audience...".
Now on stage with the "Proven People" to "act with"
And who "earned a position"
to be "heard" from, with a heart that's earned it's right to be proud,
hearing "cheers" from the right "Show..."
Did I hide my "Skeletons?"
Avoiding to hide in cast-off "Silence?"
Everyone does. To help maintain an "order" from the "chaos" in society.
So, I obey the way to my "Label" in my "Place" in this "Crowd.."
I walk to and join my rightful life's "College" and "Sorority."
Until next time, when the "cast" is "called" to read the right "script"
My "position," in life is made "clear," and my "way" is still quite cheerful and lit.
Jan 9, 2016
Jan 9, 2016 at 2:58 AM UTC
The diamond in the rough.
The one who converts
yet never conforms
and is known
for being unknown
always on
the outside looking in
and enjoying the view.
The red in a sea of blue.
Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 7:12 AM UTC
I Imagine
I imagined in my recollection,
my friend staring in awe of red clovers -
as the sun let loose ruby drops of blood.
Crying out like tears to be heard.
The dust settles as the orphan stares at the sun with green eyes.
Green eyed jealousy stirs as she stretches to remember what its like to have parents.
All the while I am worlds’ away
Spoiled, yet still stretching out my hands towards substance.
I dare not speak of freedom,
because I have already known of it,
And thrown it away mindlessly.
It even has its paid spot in some alley where it’s
Slowly dissipating alongside nostalgia.
I imagine formulating lines brick upon brick
but chaos conforms to life and the structure goes away.
So, I let my words and thoughts sift beyond my fingertips.
Falling onto new porcelain
Creativity escapes down the drain
along with the dirt wrestling itself off my dry skin.
And finally I imagine skies splitting into oblivion,
and rearranging gradually like a ****** Rubix Cube.
Jul 16, 2011
Jul 16, 2011 at 2:37 PM UTC
You don't really want me
Or know what I am
I'm more of a monster
Than I am a man
To learn what I've done
In the past, a nightmare
To see through my eyes
Is a sun-spotted glare
It would just leave you blind
With your tail in between
And your past in rewind
Up a flash-broken stream
Yet as it fast-forwards
It all passes by
You will feel like a God
All alone in the sky
Where your setting resembles
The beauty in pain
Born merely to die
While bound to this brain
As a feeling machine
With a lithium heart
Energized by emotional
Chemical art
As it flows from the brush,
Or the pen, or the sword
Machiavellian muses
Of severed accord
Couldn't stop the all-mighty
The father of time
The eternal high king
The most masterful mind
Who hears your exalts
As the crack of a whip
Because demons of freedom
Are my power trip
And I worship my maker
My change and my spark
With a riddle bit light
And a hint of the dark
You may follow the leader
Or challenge the tyrant
Regardless, the sheep
All submit to the lion
But I only hunger
For words to fulfill
My famished empire
Without the blood spill
Still I hold no claim
To this gilded cage feast
I wish only to tame
This industrial beast
End the ownership over
This name-branded earth
And slash the price tags
From the truth in the dirt
When I rise from the void
The undeadliest ghost
The half-life of the party
The first Sunday post
I am rare breeds of rebel
The blue-shaded red
I'm the hammer and sickle
The grim reaper's dread
My coup will be swift
Like a thief in the night
My reign will endure
Through the ages I write
My purge will emerge
In the surging of storms
My war will lay waste
To these spineless conforms
And from ashes of norms
And the freeing of slaves
I will build pyramids
Atop amber grain waves
I will cleanse atmos-fears
With metropolis trees
Deforested cities
Will fall to their knees
But I will uplift them
To share in my vision
As I keep the peace treaty
Sealed in this prism
Jul 24, 2017
Jul 24, 2017 at 4:17 AM UTC
The cold metal grate calms her, as supple flesh conforms
into the crenellated ridge of many miniature rectangles.
With widening eyes focusing so goes her mind into spasms of elastic thought.
Unleashed imagination simulates the mass of steel and
plastic encapsulating her in a headlong tumbling orbit.
She lingers lonely as the space station spins.
Aug 5, 2011
Aug 5, 2011 at 4:55 PM UTC
A shy sound states how you do
Though there’s no room for you
A simple emotion or fight
Could he the smallest of all my might
And they’ll never know who they are as I stare
These stakes become so fewer as I breathe this air
To feel loved near your sight
It gives such an awful fright
Times so atrocious, yet none are shamed
They moved far away
Though my home appears much dimmer
In depth, please love her eyes
Sky's have yet to make a turn
Fall in a trance much like an embryo
Uneasy breath that felt much too cold
And the memories of the lies let a shout
Eyes in my cries they moved
Leaving at the moon, remembering the past time
And ignore everyone who conforms with truth
Here they stay, everything is as cold as those times.
Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 3:30 AM UTC
I run to seclusion, where no one's around,
I would hate for someone to hear the sound.
A zip, a ruffle, kerplunk, and then splat,
The brown swim beneath, where so many have sat.
Slinks down like sausage that hasn't a case,
The brown conforms to this funnel-like space.
I pinch it off hurriedly, being in a rush,
Oh God, what now! The toilet won't flush.
Water is rising o'er the precipice,
I haven't the time nor the courage for this.
I'm out the door quickly, deflecting this gaffe,
My deepest apologies, custodial staff.
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 11:10 AM UTC
finally i have found what i have lost some three plus years back that indestructible bold unpolished teenage spirit that experienced knew things every single day unknowingly challenging the envelope, and it never broke, but molded and bended to all the magic my mind could conjure up. i stood on the cuff of my future and leaped forward not seeing the staircase but through faith and i flew. i made the mistake of coming down because i missed the misinterpreted notion of belonging to a pride. see when an eagle is raised by ground based eagles who believe themselves to be chickens its difficult to comprehend the new found freedom of the sky it is over whelming and i gave it up, unknowingly.
ever since, i could feel the gnawing emptiness in my soul. the wild wanting to fly and never feel the conforms of society again. i have been busy with chicken for too long. selling my gracefulness on the cheap.
Mar 14, 2014
Mar 14, 2014 at 3:49 PM UTC
...
Direction without movement gets us nowhere
Passion without power is nonexistent
Presence without change remains unproven
Worship conforms the spirit into Wonder
...
Jul 13, 2013
Jul 13, 2013 at 2:39 AM UTC