Long Nonconformity Poems
Long Nonconformity Poems. Below are the most popular long Nonconformity by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Nonconformity poems by poem length and keyword.
Nonconformity
All my life I have been controlled
Told what to think
Told how to behave
Told what was right and wrong
Don’t talk to strangers
Eat all your vegetables
Obey the rules that God set down millennia ago
Who made the decisions for me?
Preachers, teachers and parents were all guilty
Don’t use drugs because they rot your mind
Their morals and ideas twisted my mind
I grew up obeying every word in fear of eternal punishment
At least a note in my permanent record
I grew, read and learned that the world was not white and black
Strangers ended up being cool people
Meat tastes better than the vegetables I used to be served
God’s rules were designed to take every bit of fun out of life
Pot was a cool drug that never hurt anyone and helped some
I learned that the people who taught me never listened to the rules they preached
One thing they did teach me was to never conform
Never listen to people who feign authority
Always learn for yourself
Experience is more knowledgeable than preachers, teachers or parents
So now I live hated by some and admired by others
Both call me the same name, “nonconformist”
That name is one I wear with pride
I hope that kids of the next generations will refuse to accept the nontruths
I hope that they will learn to question authority
I hope that someday there will be more nonconformist like me
They will not have to live being spurned by a conformist society
It is my hope that they will speak out and be heard
And at that time nonconformity will be the norm
And all will be good
I’m a secret watcher of Dr. Who, but now you know, and his tardis is bigger on the inside as the cult following knows. So much philosophy, such as we look much smaller on the outside. It is as if “The Doctor” lives inside his brain as do us poets always imagining something greater...something bigger. And yet we can also reduce something to its smallest component and expound it. We look at a seed, climb inside its shell and see the universe. We keep walking in and out of our world, amazed at its nonconformity to our idea of reality. We see a box, color it blue...just blue the teacher says as she points with a ruler and slams down hard on your knuckles. Persnickety self says “black and blue.” The teacher points “out” and you gladly climb back into your roomy cocoon. A butterfly emerges with Queen Alexandra wings that land on the teachers hair, taunting her, beating her at her game of “inside the lines.”
11/5/2018
You wore your vernix like a crown on a budding successor
Head held up high and then there was an almighty scream
I cut the chord and crowned the royal moment with a kiss
The inauguration of Princess Sarah
Still a bit squashed from the passage of naked transmission
Dressed in heavenly light you wasted no time and held court
Infused with the power of birth you aligned all canopy’s stars
An innocent heartwarming Princess
The fragrance of your soft skin mixed with sandalwood scent
An aura transcended the air and vibrations entered my soul
Irresistible you began your reign with unshakeable prowess
Divine Sarah Princess of instantaneous Peace
A moment of silence and then you drew me into your reign
Fed on nature’s ambrosia and sucked in the power of love
Took a firm look around and decided to slumber for a while
A priceless Princess taking over my world
By your own future Queen’s acclaim you thrived on Royal Jelly
Like Agape personified you smiled and assumed the throne
Cuddled up in a blanket of violet shades in lavender petals
A modest Princess draped in a cloth
They say that the emperor rules better without any garments
And your hair tussled hair shone like a pure garland of prayer
‘I am not concealed’ you seemed to say ‘but draped in the truth’
This Princess needs no scepter to strike gold
Of course the quiet inception was followed by sleepless nights
Indigestion and fevers as well of reminder of fragile existence
Many a night I watched almost helpless right next to your berth
Even Princesses need sweet soothing lullabies
As you grew older you rebelled with purpose against the old order
Drew up your own constitution and rearranged outdated commands
Took to insurgence and regime change and nascent nonconformity
Novel nobility and a Princess in renewed charge
But when I first looked into your blue eyes and felt your tender skin
I knew all too well that my incumbency was finite and ready to swap
My council already waning for your ascendency simply waxed for me
To hand over the torch to my Princess Sarah
04th April 2020
Is a picture worth a thousand words?
Is it the same with a song?
Is it worth a thousand pictures?
Who can deny the powerful images
evoked from Songs of Struggle and Protest –
a forte of common humanity?
A song can paint optimism, commitment, and a desire
for peace, freedom, and the right to live without
…Your Millions, Mister.
A piece of art sings in the minds of thousands.
It shouts injustices to the skies in loud color
and questions Where Have All the Flowers Gone?
in broad strokes.
A government of placid leaders who
Turn, Turn the other cheek and project calm and concern.
Ask your children,
What Did You Learn in School Today?
Lord, save us from ourselves.
From My Muddy Stream all the way
To My Old Brown Earth, I see inspiration and admiration for nature.
I see the waste and cry to the skies, God Bless the Grass!
There is strength, passion, and nonconformity
in picture and in song.
The one should affect us, touch us, stir us,
and fill us, Step By Step.
Long arm gendarme
My mistake namaste
Backpack bivouac
On the Road with Kerouac
Brilliant stars, silent nights
Fireflies, Northern Lights
Mountain streams, fresh air
Fall asleep anywhere
Small town, take a chance
Pig roast, barn dance
Allemande left! Do-si-do!
Spontaneity here we go!
Long arm gendarme
My mistake namaste
Backpack bivouac
On the Road with Kerouac
Beat Zen's hey-day
Doing things our own way
Nonconformity, anything goes
Kerouac-Ginsburg-Burroughs
Shot to pieces, picking skin
Benzedrine, adrenaline
Don't forget the Phenergan
Notify our next of kin
Long arm gendarme
My mistake namaste
Backpack bivouac
On the Road with Kerouac
Scrambling over each other, trying hard to be heard, interrupting, yelling out, being yourself.
We knew how to do this when we were two, and three, and four, but they socialized it out of us.
So we grew up un-learning our naturalness, un-learning our playfulness, unlearning our potential.
Sure, they say, we are going to help you with your potential, but as we fit into the lines, conforming,
Winding our real selves into the pretenders others accept, we lose our potential, because it is
Not ours anymore, it is your idea of what ours should be. When we break ranks, and run for it,
You lament that you cannot control us. Thank goodness you cannot, for the leaders, the ones who have
Stood for hundreds and thousands of others have learned to scream their truth from the roof tops,
Challenging those who think controlling others is normal. There is nothing more abnormal than that.
in the name of living art
pushing the limits risking it all
i put myself out teetering on every ledge
i stand where everyone can see
my nakedness flaunted as body art
i dare to expose my vulnerability
my passion lusts boldly for innovation
an unbridled vision steers my powerhouse
flashing artistic flair of feral imagination
hardcore inspiration with no map or guide
driven by the spontaneity of it all
never sure what outcome to expect
living on the edge of nonconformity
concepts blasting boredom out of existence
an animal survival instinct is what drives me
my art is a living organism
i’m radical no matter what the cost
i don’t care for labels but
at my core i have the heart
of a bona fide performance artist
AP: 2nd place 2020
Our story is wild style graffiti
’We fell in love then we fell in love again.’
thrown up on an urban wall for eternity;
We could write legal but chose illegally,
bombed the building with expression;
Our story is wild style graffiti;
Inspired by Love’s rebellious personality
etched a passionate confession;
thrown up on an urban wall for eternity;
Fairytale of daredevils painted artfully
a legend spoken of now and then;
Our story is wild style graffiti;
Writers personify nonconformity
relishing a dangerous artistic break in
thrown up on an urban wall for eternity;
Masterpiece matching soulmates intensity
may have our tag on a spot up in Heaven;
Our story is wild style graffiti
thrown up on an urban wall for eternity.