ARTICULATED CONVENTIONS
predilectional
premonitional
panoramic
perspectives
entirely
metaphorical
phenomena
paradisically
synonymous
appropriate
reminders
wholly
personal
immerse
&
deliberate
CONVENTIONS
the
banal
thoughts
as
excess
baggage
widely
spaced
&
reinforced
by curious
virtues
a
source
of the irregular
antecedent
in surprising
resurrection
of
the
inapproprate
derived
from
pleasured
reverberations
of
prolific
understanding
mirrored
in
the soul
CONVENTIONS
fastidious
pastimes
yearnings
for
emotional
reactions
weaving
apprehension
for
pleasure
&
to encourage
freedom
&
frivolity
in
dreamlike
significance
simulating
feelings
of reality
in
a world
of
continued
brilliance
with
possibilities
in
breathless
tenets
naturally
enforced
Normal.
Just a word,
Six letters,
Yet so powerful.
Normal.
Suffocating the unique.
Destroying the unusual.
Submitting to society.
Normal.
Following friends.
Feeling fearful.
Frightening the foxes.
Normal.
Taking away abnormal.
Straightening society.
Creating the same.
Normal.
One word,
With so much depth.
One word to create a uniform world.
Normality is overrated.
There are many of these it seems,
Always changing over time,
As present passes into history.
But none of these bad dreams,
Can clearly be decoded.
In one context or the next.
So the umbrella of convention,
Always leaks a little,
And sometimes leaks a lot,
When the storm of death arrives,
On the field of battle.
Then the storm spills into Geneva,
As civilization fights a comeback round.
Why are we surprised and shocked,
At mortal inability to decipher,
A conventional killing in the future.
Maybe our eyes can't see far enough,
Either behind us or ahead,
And the distance of time clouds our view,
Of a future soldier in the field.
Who will once again see death,
All too close and clear
Deranged conventions apathy's consent,
the meeting place, contingent on the rent,
my searching's format needs no such invent
what crucial judgment surfaces intent?
This screening of concern, ne'er by relent,
my trials winding grossly follow meant.
Attending as a witness, I am bent
and yet the justice ~ solar detriment!
I can't but focus on this implement
without attendance, and yet not extent,
the numbers pushing blind my own intent,
a voice is muffled, I am lastly spent!
But give me reason to extol advent,
I must be heard to forward sentiment.
A writer joins the soul to compliment
some virtue of each issue ~
. . . . . . printed, sent!
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