Short Conformed Poems

Dead To Rights

Was found dead to rights
As I conformed days and nights
All within my sights.

Jim Horn
Poet and Philosopher

Watching Abe Lincoln
Movie on TV....

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Forget that it's all sugarcoated
Accept that you can't quit
Censored, conformed and covered up
Egotistically you won't admit 

Because you'll never see how you're
Obsessively checking in 
Ordinary people telling lies to you
Knowing you never will win...

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If the crimes of government still remain unknown to you,
then allow your conformed indoctrinated lives to continue,
but if you see what I see, if you feel what I feel and if you seek what I seek,
then get the hell off that couch and enlighten everybody,
and stop living a lie of comfortable complacency....

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George was to us The Deformed
And his bones The Malformed …
Then, to our rules he conformed,
After he was duly informed
And by us pointedly reformed
And-Lo!-George stooped looking deformed
Nor were his bones still malformed
For overnight, new ones had formed!

Just through his Conformity for Acceptance,
In him stifling Tiger of Resistance....

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As living sacrifices
our bodies we are to give
by the mercies of our God
life’s holy and acceptable to live

Being not conformed to this world
instead be transformed in our mind
this is our spiritual worship
where God’s will we do find

Perfect, acceptable and good
is this will of God
and grace will be given
so to bow our life’s to our Lord

poetgord@2013...

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I'm getting lost in you
I'm sinking deep
Pieces of me
Disentegrating
You hold me close
Day after day
I become what you want
While I fall away

I talk to you
I watch you listening
But don't get it
Something's missing
I look like me
But I've changed inside
I've conformed to your needs
And neglected mine

I'm a blurry copy
Controlled and subdued
I'm your wife
I'm Mrs. You...

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Envisioning my pelvis
resting on your 
sista girl cushion.  
Chest conformed 
mirrored to your back.  
Skin contact.  
Aspirations to connect 
deeply. Sex me mentally. 
Come see how I react 
to your physique when 
you say "Papi give into me."
No substitute for our antics. 
Emphatically addicted
to your heroism. 
Drug induced confusion 
from one hit of you....

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From the day one is born
Not raised by the mother
Neither by the father
Rather, one is society conformed
Shaping into what is the norm
Being different gets one scorned or separated from all together
Traffic of life

Watching as one counts the seconds
Seeing all dying to live
When they are just living to die
As they fight to put their name on the records
Traffic of life...

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So small, yet so big
born during a rough time
of pain and sorrow.

Oh what joy he brings
on that cold November day.

With his little hands already
conformed to his last name traits.
With features just like his dad.

My little man makes me happy
when I was sad.
Just to think of him or see his
pictures puts a smile on my face.

Now my little man is three
already acting like he is twenty-three....

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I wear the same sweater more than twice in two days
My car has a dent and 
hand cranked windows
Must make me poor
You are poor

Poor of soul,
happiness,
freedom of your once untrained mind
Walking in whatever direction a finger points 

without question

I am rich
Rich of self
Rich of presence.
You are caged

I am free
Free to wander
obedient to self
Joy,  and sorrow
embraced
You turn away
oblivious to sight
You have conformed...

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bloodshot deriving out of wide eyes conformed to the ceiling 
ruby red polish accompany the nail
spritz of fragrance leaving behind an illusion of professionalism 
receiving roses to give glad hand towards beauty 

why is my allurement the focal point of my pitiful existence? 

the roses molded
	the incense faded
		the varnish chipped away
				the lids have found one another once again
awaken once more only to find that expression...

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From head to toe, energy flows,
Each time she shows her unique style
Miles away, with a unique smile,
Infused with the most unique glow.
Inspired to show what I know,
Before my memory is filed
In the back of her mind's eye, while
Mutual respect for art grows,
Sonnet dedications are formed.
ORIGINALS earn such an ode,
Not because they are not the norm,
Not conformed, but true to their code.
Eventually, these words storm,
Thundering down creative roads....

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Internal screams
Tormented,hollowed soul..
I've been conformed
And I am so cold..
You are not my master
Me-You do not own..
I now run-even faster
By myself-but not alone.
Your words seep into my head.
Anger seeps into my heart...
Your beliefs I am force fed.
I am torn apart.
Who am I?
My life I do not respect
My petty needs
You always neglect..
I'm torn.
From the outside-IN
I now run-now even faster..
Leaving you behind,, shedding old skin....

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Circumstance lost control;
Lost obstacles betrothed;
Whom am I to unanswer the call;
While on my stomach vividly I crawl;
Points of random denial;
Circumcised heart chiseled because of its hardness;
No longer harden massaged by the Father's  hands;
Beautifully conformed I am;
Shore beautiful 
I am moved in grace, present before His face;
A child of the Righteousness of Father God;
Endowed in His amazing grace;

2/25/24
Written words  by James Edward Lee Sr. 2024
...

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