"conventional" poems
.
A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It's the tears that trickle with radiance through words.
It's a treasure trove that hides but longs to
be found.
It's a book shelved high that wants to
be read.
It's the freest of all birds caged but
unbound...
A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It doesn't beat to the capable strokes of the artist.
It doesn't pump in the most vibrant of
colours.
It doesn't wield a paintbrush to
translate its thoughts.
But it can see through the eyes of
painters...
A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It doesn't conform to the conventional parameters of lyrics.
It doesn't bind itself to the requirements
of musical harmony.
It doesn't follow the conventions of
genres.
But it sings its voice loud without
restrictions of melody...
A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It's an open secret, that whispers in metaphoric codes.
It's an exploding universe, that merges
back into galaxies.
It's a sought after painting, that boasts
of unfathomable beauty.
It's an everlasting song, that echoes
within the poet that embodies...
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 10:54 AM UTC
A wind blows like a wilderness of wolves
A vendetta, an apocalyptic vendetta
In its unpredictable, accidental quality
That swerves images of realization into tragedy
Neglecting all with swift intent upon a fallen fortress
In complected interests of caresses
Neither invited nor encouraged yet displayed
Displayed vividly with exclusive claim to that oppression
That howls by casting itself as a consequence of transgression
Upon a conventional expectation that claims a privileged sense
That persuades without an orator grotesquely amputated shapes
Extending extraordinary artifice as its priceless wealth
But who, yes who, has envy of so rich a nothing
Jul 29, 2012
Jul 29, 2012 at 12:23 PM UTC
Freedom is life
Freedom is oxygen
Without freedom the soul will die
Freedom is water
Without freedom the body will die of thristy
Freedom is the right to express
Without freedom there will be no free speech
Freedom is wisdom
Without freedom there will be no goodness
Freedom is to live
Without freedom is to die
Freedom is happiness
Without freedom is Sorrow
Be free like a bird, like a bird which never worries about tomorrow
Be free like flower, a beautiful flower which spreads happiness with its beauty
Be free like a fish and swim through this ocean of this world
Fear and power are the shackles which keep freedom in solitary confinement,
Break the shackles of fear using Courage and bravery which gives birth to a child called Freedom
Freedom is to bring the inner child outside
Freedom is to break the ice of conventional wisdom
Freedom is to breath free and walk in the sky towards the lights
Freedom is not free, it has to be fought for.
Freedom is not easy, it has be endured tough battles of heart and body
Freedom is precious, do not waste it
Freedom is the heavenly fruit that is worth your time and life and everything it revolves around.
Apr 9, 2018
Apr 9, 2018 at 2:27 PM UTC
The dictatorship of our state is profound in its mass propaganda, where the discernment of individuals seeps into an eternal chasm of self-sacrifice on the altar of political conformity.
Let us actively withstand the passivity of our conventional hypocrisy as we engage with this ontological sleepwalk through sinister passageways of presumed social advancement.
In our age of grandiose moralistic eclecticism where imperatives abound, I burn incense and contemplate the cosmopolitan artificiality which lavishes abundant gifts upon our self-opinion.
Criminality is the result of discovery.
So, oh thorn in my flesh, cover those rancid corpses by the veil of popularity, gain and pleasure.
Subconscious social conditioning is the scourge of lustful appearance, don’t you think?
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 10:23 PM UTC
Symbol: The goat
Opposite Sign: Cancer
Meaning: The achiever
Modality: Cardinal
Element: Earth
Ruling House: The tenth
Ruling Body: Saturn
Motto: I build
Birthstone: Garnet
Color: Brown
Metal: Silver
Flower: Carnation
Fragrance: Spearmint
Lucky Day: Saturday
Numbers: 3, 4, 9
Lucky Colors: Red, Pink, Purple, Blue
Lucky Flowers: Cyclamen, Plantain lily, Fittonia
Capricorn is: persevering, patient, conventional, practical and disciplined. Capricorn can be practical, unemotional, sober, orderly, controlling and manipulative.
Dec 4, 2015
Dec 4, 2015 at 1:25 AM UTC
So I'm a little down.
So I'm not like everyone else.
So I'm battling something people don't know much about.
So I'm different.
So I'm "dysfunctional".
So I'm not from a traditional background.
So what?
Does that mean,
I shouldn't be allowed to attend my college?
The one thing keeping me going?
That I should be locked up in the loony bin?
All because my brain has become numb to some pain?
I've found function in my alleged dysfunction,
some traditions occasionally get broken.
Exceptions to the rules are made.
The world is full of suffering,
but it is also full of overcoming it.
So where do you get off,
telling me how to deal with something
you've only read about in your
guidance text books?
Where five minutes into meeting me,
that you feel the ability to dictate how I should go
about my life?
I've lived 20 years on this Earth
without your input,
sure, it hasn't been perfect,
but I've made the unconventional work.
I mean, ask anybody that actually knows me,
if they would ever consider me "conventional".
So don't sit there, and hide behind words like
"I just want what's best for you", "I care about you", "I'm concerned",
"Its your choice to go, but if you don't:
the police will forcibly escort you,
or you'll not be allowed to be in our college community."
Scoffing at the word community,
because whenever someone tries to use that word,
usually it is about discluding people, rather than including them.
"So, either be discluded now, by your 'choice', or by us making you.
All the while, literally 12 hours previous,
we had zero idea what was going on,
or even who you were. "
Seems like you really do have "my best interests at heart", huh?
Nov 8, 2014
Nov 8, 2014 at 2:57 AM UTC
Black and white dreams
Less conventional
it seems
Yet,
I still believe
That too
many
colors
Can fade out
the true meaning
And if
I dream of death
Then it's *just
the beginning*
Oct 25, 2015
Oct 25, 2015 at 3:49 AM UTC
I asked the question but may never know
But let’s give it a go
I ask the question again, how does Mary Poppins angle her umbrella?
It seems precise
Maybe Magic is the advice
It seems the winds are always in Mary Poppins favor
But too some of use with ordinary conventional umbrella’s that’s hard to savor
Mary Poppins seems to just glide through the air and her umbrella stays in tact
Actually, could be more than fact
With these so called conventional umbrella’s, people would be lucky if our umbrella’s didn’t turn inside out and became stems of its former self
But Mary Poppins umbrella is not like everybody else
When a breeze comes along, the ordinary conventional umbrellas simply bend
What was an umbrella always comes to an end
They just can’t seem to take the wind
I guess Mary Poppins can
Magic controls the umbrella on when
But we really don’t know how Mary Poppins umbrella stays straight
However, it’s Mary Poppins story of fate
Yet that is something only Mary Poppins can appreciate
As for us ordinary people can associate
It’s definitely a magical thing
The Mary Poppins name having a bling
She’s like a Queen who masters her own sling.
Nov 17, 2018
Nov 17, 2018 at 2:23 PM UTC
Sometimes in doing battle,
Conventional weapons are useless.
What good are guns,
What good are knives,
What good are bats,
If the enemy doesn't bleed?
Sometimes in battle,
All you can do is run,
And hope that whatever it is,
That thing chasing you,
Won't be able to catch up.
But if you're unable to run,
And fighting is futile,
What else can you do?
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 9:38 PM UTC
These bars on the window, they keep me in
Though they are not quite what you would expect
They're not strong or thick, but flimsy and thin.
Instead of iron, they're made of plastic
Although they do stop me physically
It is not in the conventional sense
Of "lock her up and throw away the key"
More like the subtle warning of a fence
They shun the thing that is fueling my fire
Leaving me in darkness, too familiar
The heaviness keeps at bay my desire
To leap into unknown, the barely blur
They trap me not like the bird in a cage
Rather, they stifle, like the soul in rage
Apr 26, 2017
Apr 26, 2017 at 10:04 PM UTC
Time passes by like a whistle in the wind. Ignored and only observed within the thickness of one's skin. The once gnawing temptation in Lula's eyes were now exchanged in kaput like a dead black swan in the lake.
It grew on her and she can only justify it by moving her legs back in forth and forward with her ballet shoes; she can only obtain her physical through the applause of everyone around her. Yet, there were trickles of blood forming inside her internal wound — as the piano strikes another note in A minor, she can only whisk in pain and undone drafts in her head. "Tis will be over", she raises her head upon the crowds heaping in excitement, she turned around and flew her wings upright and the heads of the audience once more clapped in vain and delirium nonsensical pleasure.
As Chopin's symphony were almost in the last note, she stood straight and made her way to the middle. There, she locked eyes with her forbidden lover and a small smile throughout. The intensity of another Vivaldi's winter classic can be grasp once more and another set up of white swans gathered together — formed a circle and she went in the middle. Her eyes turned black and her wings bleed another tint of jet black and crimson. The crowds awed in reverence and she soared above them. A starlet in the headless crowds and dreary sweet rustle of voices gave her another bliss.
And while she was served aloft, there were another macabre symphony that plays through the soft rough piano; it was a solemn prayer and they were the kind souls going up to the heavens.
"Go on, Salem. Play the winter magic," Salem could only look at his muse and he strike another note, passing notes two steps from their 'haven'.
Lula slowly ripped her wings for the last time and smiled to all the headless men. Her satin dress reveals her plumpy chest and an hourglass body. Lula is a goddess black swan. Men could only forward their eyes and threw her pennies once more and she could only move in her balletic conventional pose. For the last time, she flew with her black tinted wings and they were all beheaded.
The white swans began to sing in a solemn outcry until it became too remorseful. The white swans turned their heads down when they met Lula's dead eyes. Her laugh echoing the whole stadium with its own persona and it is like crawling down into waltz where it reaches their earshot. They can only sing in albeit and expensive heads started to explode.
"Two steps from hell," she sings.
May 30, 2021
May 30, 2021 at 7:11 AM UTC
I dream of a society
Where the ideals of beauty
Are less focused on superficial concepts like one's waistline
Or how decrepit their smile lines made them appear
But rather one where the focal point of unanimous adoration is,
As corny as this may sound,
One's morals and where they land on the gradient of human compassion
In this utopia,
The elderly aren't seen as catalysts for repugnance and a wrinkling of noses
But rather as symbols of eruditeness and beauty
The type of beauty that influence or money can't obtain
And it may be conceivable that instead of wasting my days squandering over my physical appearance,
I can just fritter away the days
Strumming my ukulele along to the tune of my American dream
For I have yet to actually awaken from my adolescent slumber
Breifly enough to grasp my dream from the bubble floating above my resting head
And nestle it securely in my pocket
So it doesn't forgo me
In search of someone less complacent with bewilderment about their future
Who dreams of social and economic prosperity
Instead of someone who's apathetic at best about whatever career choice they've chosen for the week
Maybe that's just it
That maybe I don't want the conventional American dream of fame or fortune or recognition
Is it feasible that maybe my American dream isn't to rise from sqaulor into a soulless mansion
Whose corridors boast success
But lack warmth and presence?
I suppose that my American dream encompasses more than just America itself
It lives in the eyes of every human being on the face of the earth
It's nestled in the gaze of a starving child
And the stare of anyone who's ever felt a tongue's razor edge
And all I'd have to do is delve into their eye sockets and plant a seed
A seed of hope and compassion
Or whatever I deem fit
Perhaps I just want to shield myself
From the world's disapproving glances,
Those fleeting moments of eye contact that convey condescending judgement
Maybe I'd just like to make a difference to things sans the media’s snide opinion
But despite my juxtaposition to society's critical assessments,
I know that I can't run away from my fears or problems
So maybe I dream of a society
Where I can remain headstrong even in the face of opposition
Because I'm aware that not everyone's going to love each other
And spout sweet nothings about peace and understanding from their hind quarters
So maybe I'd like to help be a driving force
That wards off the world's shadows
So the sun can continue to shine on my American dream
Aug 14, 2012
Aug 14, 2012 at 11:14 PM UTC
When we learn a new method
Make sure you have to take new routes
Don't worry about the mistakes
They always help you to learn a concept
If you never committed a mistake means
You never did anything new
Try for innovative ness
Rather following conventional methods
Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 8:24 PM UTC
"Temper your enthusiasm,"
She said,
"The extremes of your reactions;
You should have
A more conventional frame
On which to hang
Your unconventionality."
"Don't push people,"
She said,
"You make yourself vulnerable."
She told me not to rhapsodise,
That it would be difficult,
Impossible, perhaps,
For me to harness my dynamism.
The tone of my work,
She said,
Is often a little dubious.
She said
She thought
That there was something wrong.
That I'm hiding
Some sad
Dark secret from the world.
"Temper your enthusiasm,"
She said,
"The extremes of your reactions;
You should have
A more conventional frame
On which to hang
Your unconventionality."
Aug 4, 2015
Aug 4, 2015 at 3:20 AM UTC
I really have no time for this. It's not real. I don't want to flirt. I don't want to have to dress nice for you to notice me, to give me a second glance. I don't want you to be my prince charming or mi knight in shining armor. I don't want to be naked for you to see me. I don't want to have to pretend that I like that ******** I want us to be real. I don't want to put up with society's crap. I want to actually be happy and enjoy my life. I don't want us to work according to the plan. Rules that aren't written down, yet somehow they make their way into our lives. They ***** it up from the beginning. I don't want you to be perfect. I don't want us to be perfect. Not by society standards, at least. I know that as long as I love you you'll be perfect in my eyes. So, why do we bother with the other useless things? When I look at you, I don't want to be looking at a soulless, ripped, mindless guy whose biggest concern is being socially accepted and hitting on girls and drinking shots and crashing parties. I haven't and won't date that kind of guy. EVER. I just can't bring myself to like that kind of person (not that I want to).
I want someone that I can be comfortable with. Someone who looks after me but not because he disbelieves in my strength, but because he can't stand the mere idea of loosing me. I want him to understand me, I want us to have long talks. I want us to cry, laugh and play like idiots. I want us to have little play-fights, that kind of arguments that are based in pointless ideas and always end up in a kiss. I want to be able to share everything with him. I want us to be best friends. I want us to know each other so that we can fully trust one another. I need the guy to be there for me. I need it to be real. I need it to be love. True love. Not those fake little relationships destined to failure. Those filled with jealousy, replacing trust, self-confidence and respect. I know I sound like an old conventional lady, rambling like this about such hideous teeny tiny details. But life's all about details. If not, everyone's lives would be incredibly monotone and that would be disgusting. Different is beautiful. That's why nobody is better than you. You deserve someone who gets that and treats you right. You deserve to be happy, just as everyone else does.
Jan 28, 2015
Jan 28, 2015 at 11:44 AM UTC
Erotica!
Its when other girls want u, I stand confidently
Cos I know I'm your fantasy and your reality
me cooking you meal, you step up to me,
you pull my hair, kiss my neck.
Draw me closer, kiss my lips, down to my navel.
Please Baby don't stop
Erotica!
Its when you let me aspire to inspire you to take me higher, fulfill my desire.
Memories of you is all I need,
to believe and achieve a ****** so sweet.
I wanna watch u eat, while on your knees, listening to Alicia Keys.
This love is not just for anybody.
Erotica!
Its the way you feel while discovering me
Holding my hands down right next to me
The smell of your cologne,
it urges me to Hold u close and pull u near,
call you my dear cos your kind is so rare
Erotica !
its when u emancipate my body
Liberate my soul
Touch me in all the right places
Excuse my funny faces
I see vanilla skies
When you lick my chocolate thighs
**** I'm feeling so high
Erotica!
Its when ! love you endlessly
And follow u religiously
Don't mislead me
Please just give me
A touch of your lips
As u take swift dips
While I Twist my hips
Erotica!
Its when you are downtown, taking my emotions uptown
My head spinning
Because I'm winning
Erotica!
Its when we do it on the tiles, the rug, on the rooftop, or even the kitchen counter top
Take me to another world, another dimension, I dare mention
the bedroom is too conventional
**** my thinking is irrational!!
Watch on Youtube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Twh5bQ33v0
Visit my official website: www.tonipayneonline.com
Follow me on Twitter @tonipayne
http://twitter.com/tonipayne
Feb 15, 2014
Feb 15, 2014 at 4:10 PM UTC
It’s like spreading your arms in hopes of flight –
Catching the wind and holding it just right…
Every subtle gust grasping your body like a sail,
Winning the battle against gravity without fail,
Fighting through the impossibilities, the improbable,
And entering the realm of weightless freedom - unstoppable…
Soaring above the clouds of an orange sky,
On passed the day and into the night we fly –
From here to the moon and beyond the stars,
Floating through the cosmos - leaving the world afar…
Gliding passed this adventure like an epic dream,
Not bound to conventional rationality, or so it may seem…
We find each other dancing amongst the clouds,
Circumnavigating the universe like gods, reckless and proud –
Revelations of astronomic proportions are manifested…
Escalating our feelings, as we now become more invested,
An Armageddon of emotion, epically destroying the world; vying,
For your love – for my Darling, your love? Well, it’s like flying.
Sep 17, 2012
Sep 17, 2012 at 10:43 PM UTC
I took a hearse to prom.
Not the most conventional way at all.
Not the sort of carriage a prince
Should take to a ball.
My chauffeur drove me.
He was dressed in black.
I suppose a hearse is better
Than my mum’s old Cadillac.
I drove alone to prom.
Said I’d meet my date there.
Besides, she’d be late with all
Her make-up and her hair.
I just had to suit up
And get my tie to sit real still.
Then my father looked me over,
And said; ‘I think you fit the bill.’
So I sat in anticipation
As I drove there to the prom.
But who’d have thought in two minutes
Everything would go wrong.
My father’s an alcoholic, see.
As was my chauffeur.
Because they are the same man.
The man who drove the hearse.
Apr 13, 2014
Apr 13, 2014 at 5:35 AM UTC
I want to be touched by you
but not in the conventional way
oh no
I long to be touched
spiritually
emotionally
I want you to undress my mind with your thoughts
Oct 27, 2018
Oct 27, 2018 at 5:12 AM UTC
my body is simply not conventional
to the clothes I wear
there are dips and hills plastered on my figure
hanes doesn't take into account
my weight or my height
so pulling up the waistband
drills the cotton into my skin
with no room to breathe
but I've gotten comfortable
my body is not conventional
to the clothes I wear
the hunch back of Notre Dame meets
a protruding belly that widens my waist
when I wear shirts
fabric strangles my hips
displaying my grotesque body
but I've gotten comfortable
my body is not conventional
to the clothes I wear
aged binders do their best
pools of skin are dipping out the sides
my ribs ache and it's hard to ignore
when my body wails a cracking chaos
pain and overstimulation have crept into dreams
but I've gotten comfortable
my body is not conventional
to the clothes I wear
my body is not conventional
but it doesn't bring despair
my body is not conventional
and you can't begin to understand it
because it's too crippling to bear
it's staggering to peep into a mirror
seeing my being labeled unpleasant
with the unnerving urge to rip my eyes out
and splatter my blood on the glass
why don't I just break down and sit there
it's heavy to carry my weight and be hyperaware
it's easy to not care and maybe I'd take that route
but I'm not conventional
so I'm taking another way downstairs
Aug 13, 2021
Aug 13, 2021 at 2:53 AM UTC
i've never fit the standard
i've always been quite odd
and while i know that makes me different
i'm not necessarily flawed
because it's always for the wrong things
that the world tends to applaud
though i swear it's not intentional
i've never been conventional
my behaviors have no pattern
my colors have no scheme
when i'm asleep i'm thinking
and when i'm awake i dream
while the rest are all so silent
something inside me screams
i'm more than three-dimensional
i've never been conventional
you may find me confusing
you may not like me very well
that's something i understand
i'm a hot pink among pastels
still i think, no i believe
that eccentricities propel
the reason i'm ascensional is
i've never been conventional
Dec 11, 2016
Dec 11, 2016 at 8:43 PM UTC
After long dark,
you can find me in my mind;
taming serpents; kissing girls.
You may not understand
why I've been the way I am.
You're under-educated
and that's only half your fault.
Sometimes I am imprisoned
within the waves of an ocean
that always misbehaves --
but it's not my fault; just the
way the god rolls: making halves
and making wholes.
After the short syrup of light,
you can find me hiding, true;
pulling off ticks; kissing boys.
You may not comprehend
the way I'm fumbled together.
You're under-educated
and that's only half your fault.
Always I am imprisoned
within the crash of culture;
my thoughts treated like worms;
my illnesses considered contrived.
But it's not my fault; just the
way you guys roll: ignoring halves
for conventional wholes.
May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 5:17 PM UTC
I was told poems mustn't rhyme
Those that do show infantile minds
A child can rhyme two with glue
Or find a metaphor for the sky being blue
Rhymes are easy
Essence is hard
I use conventional flow
As my not-so-trump trump card
Stop. Branch out.
Find the words to reach deep down.
The soul wrencher's
The tear jerkers
The love felt on a whim
From first sight
Unable to project true depth
Just imagery
The easy kind
.
.
.
Stick to the rhymes for now
Best to do what you know how
Mar 24, 2017
Mar 24, 2017 at 7:00 PM UTC