"unconformed" poems
Like leaves, tears drop and float effortlessly down scarred cheeks.
To the world, they remain anonymous and silent but to me, they are the world.
Becoming glass shards in broken eyes, and elvin daggers in a limp heart.
A body spinning counterclockwise, going no where but sicker as the days flash by.
I am a number, a false statistic that hasn't registered yet.
I am made up and imaginary, just like hands are to time, just like green is to money.
I grow tired of this worlds mentality more and more with each shallow breath.
I remain on the outskirts of everything as I stay unconformed and partially used.
There is an ever present dust seeping into my wounds and it's eating away all I am, all I stand for and my bones.
They have turned to dust, my soul has given way to rust.
Sep 19, 2013
Sep 19, 2013 at 8:42 AM UTC
Detached from mortal's pain and sin allure
I wish to be; content with life and pure.
Of these humble desires I wished aloud
To the wind, then up high, my eye caught a cloud.
A-rest a cloud exists no burning pain,
Only sunshine and breeze above the rain.
While low men curse the world with scornful cry
I'll be resting far up high, floating by.
To lay on whitest sheet and softest bed
While seeing all the world our God hand formed
Is doubtless man's greatest dream, so I've read.
Worrieless I drift. Of "Man," unconformed.
My days are but a passing summer thought,
My nights are but a showcase of the stars.
My world, nothing less than Paradise caught,
My house is just a step from heaven's bars.
While men strive for love and life evermore,
I'll be waiting to greet them at the door.
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 7:47 PM UTC
A personal protest,
A fight to forge an identity
And refuse all they think they know.
Butting heads against rams,
They wound but encase yourself with their fear
It hurts less when they attack it themselves.
Exist, create, destroy, love, hurt, ****** ******
Pre existing values that were pulled from the teeth of drunkards afraid of their own faces.
Shake free of shackles and swing them,
A personal protest.
A newly found revolution of a one man army.
I'd join you but I'm picketing my own funeral.
Stay fearless, stay unconformed, stay you,
Stay me, stay puppy.
A pat on the head from corporate junkies
As you march along side them
Licking their seeping fears for them
As they shake that ground you forgot to stand on.
The ground is not ours and
We are losing the fight against humanity,
We've lost our way.
They've lost their way.
Corporate monkeys ******* our brains,
******* their own egos.
Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 7:29 AM UTC