"conventionality" poems
In anticipation of the too-few precious hours in tandem, we divulged our carnal cravings at each others’ hands, but omitted fragments, saving them for some other day, finding them too truthful.
When you hold your body to mine, as you have told me you will, I want a flurry of colored breath, peach and magentas and crimsons slipping translucently from every part of me and wafting in and out and between us like a graceful fog, and not just the force of fingers that have waited too long to touch, but the electrostatic brushes of life’s restlessness falling slowly into their own gravity as we learn to trust the moment.
Our lips are full of nerves and that is why a kiss is so much more than symbolic. I placed my lips to the skin of an orange and I was met with the sensuality of the whole terrain of this world. Intimacy then, is the slow press that reassures humanity – the invitation into a world with no walls – the rush of blood that comes from being completely receptive – that is the kiss I want with your soul.
After all the epochs of lovers, these are all the same words, but they are lanterns bouncing across the plains and sparking anew in the way that the naive are always entranced by the lighter in their hand when they first learn how to light a cigarette, elated and dizzy from the ***** Twinkling.
Sometimes all it takes is a breath and I am light and wind and red paper confetti and the moon and a golden orb that turns all it touches into a shining constancy of what’s called love – and I visit your heart knowing that you can’t tell it’s me, and then I must leave– and I know that I was not in my body, but that it must have kept existing while I was gone because I always wake up in tears, and someone had to cry them.
Conventionality dies between us and there are no titles or promises to speak of. I once found security in labels, only to find that they leave no room for the inevitable growth and weathering of time. So I ask little of you – only that you are always true with me, and that you occasionally put your hand in mine.
May 13, 2013
May 13, 2013 at 12:22 AM UTC
I lay still as if I were a breathing corps.
My heartbeat reminds me I still live.
My mind wanders aimlessly;
It drifts in and out of the borders of valid conception,
and withers to its content.
Am I alive,
or waking from a prolonged dream?
These thoughts contradict my understanding of this world.
They break the grips of my reality,
and plunge me into the unknown.
Although the notion tinges a world of fear.
My perspective shifts;
My consciousnesses fades away
and is vibrantly replaced
by a wave of blissful euphoria.
This is a strange existence.
Time is irregular;
It means nothing here.
Days seem like seconds;
minutes seem like weeks.
O' to what a mishap,
a folly happenstance,
a fringe to conventionality.
To who or what pleasure
do I owe?
Part of me wishes to leave this place.
Albeit a part wishes to remain.
I am in love with this realm,
yet I know there is somewhere else
that I must be.
So now I set sail
to find the world that I came from;
with a pleasant gift from the one I left.
I look upon an old existence,
with new eyes.
Dec 5, 2012
Dec 5, 2012 at 12:55 AM UTC
I beseech you my brethren of universal extrapolations – can we please engage in open and articulate *********** without apprehensive projections?
Connection fails whenever intensity prevails, and genuineness bows the knee to supposed sustainment.
Now that we understand that the quest for independence and that freedom is not divorced from pack loyalty; I cross my legs and contemplate yogic restorations of astral attainment whilst sitars command conventionality.
So, let us converse in a manner which is soul to soul. Doesn't that just remind you of baked fish and fruit punch?
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 11:32 PM UTC
the random onslaught of
typical words and
topical themes abounding!
sustaining the conventionality
of thoughtlessly living psuedo-life
to the full extent of our inability
to communicate truth with eachother
all the real words have been erased and debased
as we accept the abuse
heaped upon us by professioal thugs
and the ad men they hire
to keep us addled brained and
thoroughly confused
a state of mind it seems
that we find
most comforting
safe and of course
family oriented
pixar people insted of those of
flesh and blood
or driving stock cars
round and round and round
and round and round
etc
*********** instead of love
yes!
pornographically presenting
bare meaninglessness to
the un-world of the dead
un-words being un-said
day after day after day
Jul 30, 2010
Jul 30, 2010 at 2:21 PM UTC
We drove past it every Thursday;
blank, bleach white walls.
Clean, block rectangular.
There was a garage
and sometimes a black car
in the driveway.
It stood out crowded by cluttered
town houses smothered in ivy,
with long grass, red brick or pebble-dashed.
Glass on the street and supermarket
bags on the path, traffic,
conventionality, routine, and teletext.
But his house stood out.
The closest vision of showbiz style
I could see with all I knew being
he grew up near here,
like me, and that must be it,
the very house where
he would live if still in this city.
Creating a myth to myself
that he was allusive but he was inside.
I’d wind down the car window
listening out for the sound of
his songs in the air,
or watch to see if anybody
opened the door, lights of cameras
in the seconds we pass the junction.
Of course, never saw him
on the Thursdays our car passed by
but knew he was very busy.
Jun 5, 2018
Jun 5, 2018 at 2:57 PM UTC
No.
I'm fine.
As a matter of fact,
I'm happy. And perfect.
Yes,
my hair's uncombed
and my clothes are ragged
and I live everywhere
Under the table, sometimes
framing infinity.
Or on the edge of the precipice
conquering literature and flying
Or somewhere in the street
scattering the everlasting tunes
whilst letting the wind dismember
the feathers swirling round my earlobe.
It's my choice.
I refused to inhabit the life of conventionality.
On a fine summer day,
if you prefer, you can
Run away with me.
May 19, 2013
May 19, 2013 at 4:26 PM UTC
I was merely a speck of vitality
When I observed you all helpless inside a chanted yet broken record
Of conventionality rather than equality
Your ignorance, something I will never be able to afford
Perhaps I attempted to create my own forked tongue,
Succumbing to the toxicity of your belief that love cannot be reciprocated between
a certain two, who,
Despite your concern about the somatic,
Still fight to choose what makes them ecstatic
In fact you are in no place to voice such a strident stance,
When you do not have the slightest familiarity in the feeling of home being brought straight into your hands,
The feeling no type of discouragement could ever destroy:
Home as if it were after years and years away among the people of Troy
In some nights I could feel the loud beating of my heart so erratic,
And in some I found time seemed to stretch on longer than I would favour
But all I had to do was look into her eyes which were beyond cinematic
To be reminded of why these were the moments I would later most savour
I found it within my nature to stick the
debris that was a product of your odium
Into the the depths of my being, even beside my need for sodium
As a result I have outgrown multiple layers of skin,
After which my metamorphosis will begin
And at once without any resistance, I took flight towards the sky,
Because they often said the sky is the limit, I wondered why
And as I escaped into the realm of the pleasant unknown,
I had made the decision that this was the only measure of contentment I was to condone
Finally
Finally
Finally
I am free and most importantly, I am me
Jan 5, 2019
Jan 5, 2019 at 10:16 PM UTC
Does the true being of self to consciousness cling
Disappearing suddenly when reality so elusive sings
Pride covet words in anticipation of the ultimate ascension
Daring to imperil it all for ink and pen
Ignoring the warnings
A poets world rarely mentioned
We discard with little effort what imparts to us conventionality and vague interest
Desiring instead to reminisce on that which tortures and haunts us
It is by choice we reside freely and roam in unknown dimensions
Artists of our experiences
A poets world rarely mentioned
Many will condemn with ridicule and scorn
Those who exist in the universe of the word
As we climb the stairs to the dreamworld
Closed to those deficit in imagination
Only the ingenious may enter
Virtuosos of the mind and heart
A poets world rarely mentioned
@ copyright Tammy M Darby Dec. 29, 2018.
Dec 15, 2018
Dec 15, 2018 at 9:22 AM UTC
like a dream
the beauty of this world seems
so alive
tangible and wild
just as it should be
But the alarm of a distant reality
conventionality
rings steady
and strong
i try my best to fight on
to ignore flickering eyes
glued to
blue screens
thoughts teem
eyes stream
i know this means
so much more
Jun 26, 2013
Jun 26, 2013 at 2:41 PM UTC
Definers of terms gain control.
To maintain you enchained is their goal.
Your Normie-morality
(conventionality)
tightens their grip on your soul.
Jul 2, 2022
Jul 2, 2022 at 11:12 PM UTC
A young and beautiful, but wretched soul,
Dreamt in an enchanted world of her own,
With enraptured stallions and unicorns,
Far away from the brutal world so widely known,
But little did she know, the doom of her fantasy land is close.
Long was the string of her heartfelt desires,
She wanted to gaze at the infinite stars,
And eagerly waited to whoosh to Mars,
Away from negativities and deep scars,
But little did she know, she'd always be on the radar.
Incessant lookouts for an escape,
Made her wearied, sick and frail,
It was then that the realisation kicked her brain,
For what is she suffering so much pain?
For a world that is best at growing only wolf's bane?
After a month of Sundays, time finally chipped in,
When she could take the world out for a spin,
To vanquish the conventionality like a fiery levin,
Now was the time to declare that she won't take it on the chin,
And little did the world know of its approaching ruin.
Prepared to confront the imposed tyranny one-on-one,
She took it by surprise like a curve ball,
Then the insurgence began bold and tall,
"Why are women objectified as puppet dolls?
Why do taboos exist only for womenfolk?"
Appalled by her fearless defiance,
The world warned her against such resistance,
And swore to banish her existence,
The girl merely snorted and said "to hell with your dominance",
And little did the world know, it'd be soon thrown into a vortex.
Shining from within like a blaze of sunlight,
Powered up by vexation from her plight,
She broke the ancient shields of the dark skies,
And swallowed the ossified world with plumes of her divine light,
Yet little did she know, she has pioneered a new set of star lights.
©Sri.Mun
Mar 24, 2019
Mar 24, 2019 at 4:05 AM UTC
Have you ever questioned conventionality?
Or you just live on as long as it doesn't bother you?
Do you just live on without questioning the world's savagery?
Or you just live on as long as it doesn't bother you?
Not me
Life injure the unprepared immensely
Life impacts people differently
Life changes people
Life kills
Life
With light there's dark
With good there's evil
Two sides of the coin with a slim inbetween
Sometimes that middle is strong enough to keep the polars separated
Sometimes that middle is delicate enough to crumble with the wind
Sometimes that middle is nonexistent and conflicts arise everyday
Sometimes that middle is those who are apathetic for the issue
That middle is most of us
I invite you all to think about what's normal
to challenge the small things
to help those in need
to not be ignorant and think
to shed conventionality
to think outside the box
to look at the world from both sides
to be patient despite triggering thoughts
to not harm, not judge
to start small and change yourself and others around you
I invite you all to be kind and tolerant and smart and helpful
Take action to change, take the initiative to turn words to actions
With light there's dark
With good there's evil
Two sides of the coin with t slim inbetween
Break conventionality and change.
Feb 20, 2018
Feb 20, 2018 at 6:15 PM UTC
Discover your inner music and dance!
Sing your song with glee.
Let your ability to be yourself
Light up your glowing marquee.
Accept yourself; be kind to yourself;
And be considerately bold.
Don't let purveyors of mediocrity
Force you into a mold.
Proclaim your individuality.
Be humble yet self-assured.
Don't let the light of your heartfelt endeavors
Ever be obscured.
So what if you are not like others.
If you want to go far,
Keep your focus, follow your heart,
And simply be who you are.
Be impervious to scornful mutterings.
See through hypocrites and fakes.
Don't let others' weaknesses cause you
To imitate their mistakes.
Be attentive to those around you,
But go where your inner guides take you.
Don't let the sticklers for conventionality
Stifle your song or break you.
Appreciate every single moment;
Try to maintain good cheer.
Trust in yourself and realize
There's nothing, there's no one to fear.
- by Bob B
Oct 9, 2016
Oct 9, 2016 at 12:18 PM UTC