"uniformity" poems
The artist is the one who is up all night,
The artist is the one who looks lost,
The artist is the one who fears no tyrant,
Because it just becomes the next piece.
The artist is the one who cries out with a pen,
The artist is the one who finds safety in a brush,
The artist is the one whose enemy is the blank spaces,
Because that's where there is uniformity and potential.
The artist is the one who retorts injustice,
The artist is the one who rips at the seams,
The artist is the one who screams at the world,
Because it seems no one will listen.
But never does that stop the artist,
For the artist is one of persistence,
A never ending fire that burns inside,
A passion that will never die.
Without the artist our world will crumble,
Without the artist our life will go gray,
Without the artist our days would be lonely,
Because that's when the blank spaces win.
It's the color that bursts from the mind,
It's the thought that paints the sky,
It's the music that gives us hope,
Because it's only with the artist we see reason to be alive.
Mar 7, 2013
Mar 7, 2013 at 1:54 AM UTC
Loyalty
They talk about loyalty,
Like it’s a fantasy,
They talk about loyalty,
But have no clue, what it means.
They talk about equality,
Like it’s currently happening,
They talk about democracy,
But have no clue, what it means.
Glocks aimed at cops,
Glocks aimed back at someone’s pop,
Many lives have been lost over Gaup.
Gaup that buys whips and thots.
All got something to prove,
But to who?
All got something to lose,
What will you choose?
If money equal power,
Than why is the taste so sour?
After all the castles and ivory towers.
You’re left a lonely dragon like bowser.
Loyalty tell me what it means to me?
To hang with royalty,
Or help those in poverty.
The place I used to be.
Helping people like me.
That society has coated with a cloak of invisibility.
Because they can’t stand minorities.
And that’s why we can’t stand authorities.
A toxic cycle that stems from a different ideology.
Instead of equality,
We have uniformity,
Instead of democracy,
We have white supremacy.
Instead of loyalty,
We have hypocrisy.
They talk about loyalty,
Like it’s a fantasy,
They talk about loyalty,
But have no clue, what it means.
They talk about equality,
Like it’s currently happening,
They talk about democracy,
But have no clue, what it means.
Too many broken promises,
I feel like James Sie,
Losing all his cabbages.
But since we are deemed as savages,
All the damages attributed,
Are treated as shenanigans,
Instead of answering calls to action,
We have a government completely dumbfounded.
Instead of compassion,
We are harassed and hounded.
We still got all lot of work to do.
And I hope one day we’ll have a breakthrough!
For we all got something to prove?
But to who? Maybe for me or for you!
All got something to lose,
If we never take the time to put on another’s shoe.
So, what will you choose?
Will you help light the fuse?
Or treat this issue like your alarm clock,
And put in on snooze?
Who will you be loyal to?
Your heart? Or to your privilege?
Hmm…
They talk about loyalty,
Like it’s a fantasy,
They talk about loyalty,
But have no clue, what it means.
They talk about equality,
Like it’s currently happening,
They talk about democracy,
But have no clue, what it means.
Jun 16, 2021
Jun 16, 2021 at 8:26 PM UTC
I believe in one church.
I believe in an inter-racial and unbiased church of many nations.
I believe in one church of many traditions.
I believe in one church not hemmed in by history or by man-made borders.
I believe in a God for whom his pallet of skin colours reflects his love of diversity.
I believe in God-given racial difference.
I believe in one creator God who made all humankind equal.
I believe in Christ’s one church that reflects our maker's love of difference.
I do not believe in uniformity.
I believe in the Christ’s common language of love for one another, for neighbours and for enemies that transcends local dialects.
I believe in one sundry collection of priests who are called by Christ to serve one God together, saved by His one sacrifice once and for all time.
I believe in the promise of one resurrected church drawn from all nations, from every generation to meet her bridegroom, Jesus Christ.
I believe in one eternal wedding feast at a table prepared by God which features everything from the finest vegetable samosas to the richest steam puddings.
I believe in one extravagant Father who has built one massive mansion with many rooms so all his people can come and dwell together.
I believe in God's Kingdom come.
Jul 12, 2016
Jul 12, 2016 at 8:23 AM UTC
Tip Your hat
And curtsy low
The masses so mandate absolute guile
A handshake, a smile, a proper and refined bow!
To adorn thy head and semble wit
And do your best!
Take pride with etiquette
If not informed
Ye won't last a mile
And differentiation between animals distinguishes you,
Resplendent child
Wash your hair and underclothes with soap
Lest ye resemble sow
And goodness dear
Have I forgotten now?
Always remember to smile!
So I'll take your Winter clothes with zest
I'll scramble on point
No unruly mess
Oh, did i forget your coat?
No, I've got it, relax, care for a smoke?
My apologies, please forgive my latency
It must be warm in here for my blood
In fact...
Boiling over kettle within
Prevent me from committing sin
I do wish to vent
Pick up this pen
And release red wells from his dainty, fragile neck
Or...
The underbelly. It's beknownst to me entrails are thick
Now whatever shall I do with this fresh clutter?
I'll act for free, so cordially!
With my chivalrous lines
But can you, my friend, respond in kind?
After all, it's only common courtesy
It's over now, my fantasy
It dissipates with urgency
And this is my confession
Yes
Imbibed in me from every grueling, tedious lesson
An implication of uniformity
The daydreams borne from the perfunctory
Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 7:56 PM UTC
We are members of a poetic society
A unique learning class
We may or not be good at other things
But mentally we kick ***
We value all our words
Cherish our thoughts not heard
We are on the road to self discovery
Choose only words that we feel tell our story
We see the world differently than most
The world makes us.... then breaks us
So we write for survival and to give hope
Some say our heads are in the clouds
It is safer there in our own creative playground
We are miles up and never want to come down
No use for conformity
We escape the constraints of uniformity
We break out from the box ~ find new ground
And Seize the day ~ Unbound
Aug 14, 2017
Aug 14, 2017 at 10:03 PM UTC
Like many things in life,
Problems occur.
Problems which we are
Meant to learn from.
Like many things in life,
Difficulties arise.
Difficulties that we can
All overcome together.
For better or for worse
**the latter is more common,
for worse happens way too often,
the problems we face don't fade.
We live in this prison called life
difficulties arise as we slowly walk
to our demise,we fill our minds
that there are ways we can escape.**
The hardships of life
Are only a small part of the
Vivid painting that is life.
We are the complete image.
Though we may have tears,
Rips, piercings, and smudges,
We are still full of wonder and
Our minds are full of light.
**We embrace the order
we border on uniformity
awfully we are digging ourselves
in shelves of debt and depression.
Life is a vivid painting,
staining the realisation that death,
that the last breath taken
and the needless pain is imminent.**
Mar 5, 2017
Mar 5, 2017 at 10:42 PM UTC
Reality is treacherous.
Its conformity is maddening, and the rules insanely sane,
The walls of uniformity are clouded with illusions that seem delusional,
And freedom and constrictions seem one and the same,
I am a dreamer, yet I fancy myself a creator,
I build worlds from the shards of a life that lacks flavor,
I prefer the freedom of love, hope and death,
And I crave the obsession of life and birth,
I am a dreamer, and so a world of facts and truths I shun,
I am a dreamer, a dying race, under the setting sun.
But the optimism of a dreamer is maddening,
Filled with hopes and dreams that are inherently saddening,
I am a wordsmith, a romantic and some might say a visionary,
Creating universes and queens from the extraordinary,
I am a romantic, and I desire the audience of the stars,
I am a romantic, and carved on the walls of my heart are a million scars.
I am a wordsmith, building walls from worlds torn at the seams,
I am a dreamer, fleeing from the banality of life through my dreams.
Aug 31, 2015
Aug 31, 2015 at 2:37 PM UTC
Okay guys, this is going to be a romantic poem as I was in a fresh mood after I woke up. I dreamed about my ideal girl and in this poem I'm going to describe her.
The Kohl In Her Eyes
The Bangles In Her Wrists
The Anklets In Her Legs
Are All Golden
The Sweetness Of Her Choice
The Mellowness Of Her Voice
The Callowness Of Her Rejoice
Are All Elven
The Divinity In Her Face
The Uniformity In Her Grace
The Words In Her Praise
Are All Woven
Nov 24, 2012
Nov 24, 2012 at 6:10 AM UTC
A big band roaring, eagle soaring
Freedom rings, America screams
Schools burning, no one's learning
Hurricanes, earthquakes
Mother Nature's big mistakes
Or triumphs, it's all perspective
Uniformity, parallelism, have gone to the dogs
About time
Aug 29, 2011
Aug 29, 2011 at 3:52 AM UTC
We’ve been herded by hook and crook,
To obey convention, and read textbook.
The uniformity is maddening,
And the subjects are baffling.
The whole wide world is grand and open;
Why cordon the mind off in a tiny token?
Rules were meant to be broken,
To usher change and issue motion.
Creativity, art, they build up cultures,
Not to be picked at by robotic vultures.
They always nitpick and they scavenge,
Intent on making things a challenge.
Passion is the cornerstone of all,
It survives when things are squall.
It’s the sun that rises within you,
Makes you things you never knew.
Question everything, for your good;
You’ll find more than you ever could.
Explore everything, be curious;
For the world out there is glorious.
Challenge everything, be skeptical;
Your brain is knowledge’s receptacle.
Think outside, and break the rules;
Don’t blindly follow, like the fools.
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 3:24 PM UTC
Laughter and degradation
Put-downs and humiliation
So you don't like me
Why must you hurt me?
You see the way I dress
You think I'm such a mess
You fear me so much
That you keep me out of touch
And you put me in my place
And you sit back and laugh in my face
You go through such tribulation
To protect your stupid reputation
Refusing to accept the unaccepted
Refusing to acknowledge the dejected
Such a slave to conformity
Such a slave to uniformity
Follow a few; step on many
Go out with the crowd in hopes that any
Weirdos who show up happen to be weak
So you can pound and beat that freak
You might not even hurt him much
But you will still tell such
Unbelievable lies; such incredible myths
So that you and your clique can resound with
Laughter and degradation
Put-downs and humiliation
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 10:03 AM UTC
Okay guys, this is going to be a romantic poem as I was in a fresh mood after I woke up. I dreamed about my ideal girl and in this poem I'm going to describe her.
The Kohl In Her Eyes
The Bangles In Her Wrists
The Anklets In Her Legs
Are All Golden
The Sweetness Of Her Choice
The Mellowness Of Her Voice
The Callowness Of Her Rejoice
Are All Elven
The Divinity In Her Face
The Uniformity In Her Grace
The Words In Her Praise
Are All Woven
But in no way does this poem means to indicate otherwise about my stand about the institution of marriage. I still remain of the opinion that marriage is not for me. This is just a poem. Peace. :-)
Nov 24, 2012
Nov 24, 2012 at 2:26 AM UTC
Sitting on stage
The glare of the audience immobilizes my every move
Is there a way this paralysis will soothe?
The lights suddenly blare
Like a deer bathed in headlights
How can I escape from this radiant bear?
The conductor baton rises into the soundless air
Sweating, stammering, shivering
Will this be my final prayer?
The sound of an A fires from a clarinet
Bow on string, I imitate the shrill
This magical note seems to be my fever pill
A-D, D-G, A-E
Instrument seems in tune
But will this miniscule fact solve my problem soon?
As the chief baton swings side to side
Flickering images in my mind crash like a tsunami tide
Joy, Love, Hardship, and Harmony
Music conducted the opening to my passion ceremony
Fire ignites my being
Like bungee-jumping off a bridge
The words “Anything is possible!” now beaming
Like poetry, music is an art
Raw emotion strangles uniformity
Expression bears no limit
Creativity beats as our vital body part
Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 1:38 PM UTC
Can't we just be us for a second?
And stop the conformity
End the uniformity
And become people
Can't we just be us for a moment?
And stop the yes ma'am
End the yes sir
And become equal
Can't we just be us for a while?
And stop the judgement
End the competition
And become simple
Can't we just be us for a day?
And stop the cushioning
End the lying
And become real
Can't we just be us for some time?
And stop the worrying
End the fearing
And become gleeful
Can't we just be us for today?
And stop the striving
End the climbing
And let ourselves free fall
Can't we just be us?
And stop the normal
And show we're
Exceptional
Mar 28, 2014
Mar 28, 2014 at 11:58 AM UTC
calm and
fast-flowing but
unsuspecting of the
sudden drop, where it tumbles--
with its glorious white
droplets of pure
life, soon to be immersed
in darkness,
uniformity,
among the others
who've broken,
fallen,
before it.
and they all mend as one--
as the river,
still moving speedily along
but faster, with the memory
of free fall
Jan 30, 2015
Jan 30, 2015 at 5:13 PM UTC
A cider and a minder
Passing time as a reminder
Pink glow and songs flow
A waxy time erodes the mow
Renegades and perspiration responds
Swimming in winded seas of Jordan
Heated in space, evicted in their pace
Libido fails as the liquor dilutes in taste
Catch an esse as the moonlight smite
Hold another to fake a romantic right
Filter to the cards of ace as the one winks
Emotive intruders farm in fields of pastures
Imbued with alcoholic waterfalls
Molehills of termites condense lose soil
A lack of connection a taunt that apes
Future anthems triumph in hungered strums
Amused by the music erupting volcanoes
A morrow blows as the candle slows
To tow the tall grassed disused straw
A spring to summer that promises sun rays
A resolve to moderation to preserve modesty
A kiss stored forever peeping the awing stars
To guard a heart and hatch uniformity
Trembles justly forgotten in termed premises
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 2:42 PM UTC
Astral architecture hangs on the balance of my once fragile mind, now unbound and open to the potential of the Penrose Stairs that I climb. Infinity, I thought, was an innate idea man was not meant to understand, because if the universe is in fact infinite, into what does it expand?
Standing at the precipice of epiphany, teetering at the very cusp of clarity, it came to me in a monumental moment of sibylline singularity:
It expands into itself.
The thought was too profound to perceive, too ravenous to be satiated. Could this be at long last, the answer for which I have waited?
I realized that consciousness operates under a similar uniformity: the brain won't outgrow the head, but the mind will outgrow the body, and our echoes will radiate across the endlessness of existence, for all our forgotten frequencies are oblivious to the concept of distance.
We are all limitless beneath the veil of this perceived reality,
but only there are we human, and only then are we free.
Feb 20, 2017
Feb 20, 2017 at 10:27 PM UTC
I find it ironic how most dystopian novels are about a utopia
A world created to be perfect because ours failed
A world full of control, uniformity, perfection, no reflection
No identity, no war, no lust, maybe lust. Maybe just lust.
Broken, failed, oh how this brave new world derailed
It's a mishap, a hit and a miss, a world full of "ignorance is bliss"
Hidden from the view,
Or maybe just hidden from you
Oh yes it's quite ironic how the perfect world is ours,
Which we find so imperfect as we stare up at the stars
And wish for a world that we could just be one
Because everyone belongs to everyone
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 3:07 AM UTC
Never let strangers crash your bed
Just because you cannot sleep alone
Never confuse love with loneliness
Never let comfort be misinterpreted with infatuation
Just because you are too insecure
Never confuse love with loneliness
Never let uniformity force you into compliance
Just because you are scared of not falling into society’s standards
Never confuse love with loneliness
Never let anyone tell you when you should be ready
Never let people dictate what your life should be
Never let society convince you that you aren’t worthy
Never let them make you feel any less happy
It’s always better to be certain
Never confuse love with loneliness
Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 10:22 PM UTC
The only job in sight
Is the mining task
It’s time to dive into the eternal night
Wearing an exotic mask
Surrounded by the earthy walls of uniformity
With a pickaxe in hand, I start the dig
The barren days have drowned me in pity
Hopefully I will find a gem worth BIG
I am not the only one in this mining tunnel
Thousands of other miners try to strike gold
I feel stuck in the bottom of a funnel
The only miners that can prosper are the lucky and the bold
In utter desperation
I grate the rough soil
Using new strategies to alleviate the frustration
I pray for a fortuitous end to this fruitless toil
With exclamation of sudden cheers!!
Some of the workers now start the upward climb
Many of the tarred workers break down in tears
Which day marks salvation this time?
May 16, 2013
May 16, 2013 at 10:01 PM UTC
facing the faces of the forsaken
taking in the weight of our damnation
a wasted case of the disgracefully shaken
taking the hatred into a debated deflation
this place is a place of frustration
hating the way of this path we've taken
a state of vacant is the state of this nation
waiting around for our dreams to awaken
---------------------------------------------
reverse uniformity
taking the hatred into a debated deflation
a wasted case of the disgracefully shaken
taking in the weight of our damnation
facing the faces of the forsaken
this place is a place of frustration
hating the way of this path we've taken
a state of vacant is the state of this nation
waiting around for our dreams to awaken
Dec 3, 2016
Dec 3, 2016 at 1:18 PM UTC
The fence posts stand, bleached and brittle,
a tidy graveyard for dreams not their own.
Each board a promise of security,
painted white by hands that never bled,
guarding a silence that screams privilege.
A lawn mowed to uniformity,
as if clipping blades could trim truth.
Beneath, the roots tangle in soil tilled
by those unseen in the storybooks,
their spines curved by centuries of labor
to raise a house that barely held them.
Inside, the air is stale with whispers
of manifest destinies and invisible hands.
Windows frame a world distorted,
a lens of 'normal' that filters out color,
washing the streets in sepia nostalgia.
The picket fence becomes a cage
for those who see the bars.
But who built this town?
Not the architects of ignorance
who claimed the blueprint as birthright.
No, it was those in shadow,
their brilliance stolen to light the chandeliers
of men who never thanked them.
It was the voices erased
to make way for the monotonous hum
of a narrative too pale to reflect reality.
Progress wears brown hands,
scarred from the heat of engines
that drove the country forward.
It sings in languages
that don’t fit neatly into syllabaries,
its rhythm syncopated, refusing the march
of conformity.
Progress carves its name
into the very foundations of a nation
too proud to look down.
And now, the town crumbles,
its picket fences splintered
by the weight of unacknowledged history.
The 'white normality' that painted
its walls in monochrome
is revealed as smoke—
a ghost-town haunted by the very people
who gave it life,
only to be exorcised.
Yet those ghosts do not wail.
They speak, steady and firm,
their presence undeniable.
They are the architects now,
designing futures that will not crumble,
drawing plans that see the beauty
in every hue.
And the white-picket fences
are repurposed for something new,
their shards forged into tools
to till a soil fertile with truth,
where a garden of multitudes can finally bloom.
Nov 24, 2024
Nov 24, 2024 at 4:57 AM UTC