Short Conforms Poems

To your health, Vice Chancellor Lightfoot,
who from Usher's words decreed
the creation of the earth beneath
in 4004 B.C.

May we learn from your conforms,
molding nature to current dogma,
and learn to view accepted norms,
at least, cum grano "salta."...

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Joseph the Christ figure giraffe bookmark
wooly resents that penultimate comment
and tells me whut
“ALL NEW MATERIAL. CONFORMS”
Of what does he speak? What madness?
“TO TOY SAFETY REGULATIONS”
The turning phrase!
A thousand old Buddhas stand speechless!...

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Poetry is a pleasant platform,
where passionate pens perform
sweet songs and super sermon,
it's got funny and friendly forms, 
cute and creative, it doesn't conforms,
it's got nice and nifty norms;
a wonder, as weak as a worm,
yet super and strong like storm....

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hop on board my carousel of thoughts
  where wild ideas bob up and down
theories hang on tight for dear life
  some die on the vine; others run rife

tabulate all data collected
  frame it in pie-chart form
make sure it fits my narrative
  truth today, whatever conforms...

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Our minds aren't  set in stone . Our minds aren't  confine to the past , nor limited to our limitations . If we can have faith , dream , pursue .... through pain , hardship , suffering wisdom is gained . Education illuminates , conforms . Through all of this true change comes . Our minds are reborn like the Phenix  rising from the ashes ....

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The frailness of a blank pallet.
Now conforms under hazed eyes that weep.
Does it bring truth to her treacherous past?
Oh' she is sure to find peace.
Life turns an unknown path.
Repulsive thoughts cease.
Sun breaks through.
Clouds lye no more on her tormented soul.
Reflections' sore heals in time.
Carry me to better place.
For now, I own the will to forget....

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I’d made my account so poor
When on my mind things that lure
Befall on a snare insure
Lest my soul can ask no more.

In the trench I am by now
My head may have its bow
Upon this things along the rows
To which my eyes- the tears I’ll show.

For all is fleeting – yes indeed
And friendship bond conforms to it
And things forgotten can’t be retrieved
But if it can- these things I never writ....

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Rippling devastation, conforms to blinding eye's, children fight for freedom, the blind they can not see, destroy the home you live in, the gutter grave of death, welcome not religion believe you know the best, Muslim wars and Christian still dig a deeper grave, fighting builds destruction the death is just the same.

trickle time religion aim for better times
forget about life problems
and look for dreams to raise...

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My sleep is dream-filled now --
imagined scenes, practiced dialogues,
fervid comments, loving words --
never-voiced retorts.
I resist awaking, lie in bed
clinging to a dream world --
and to that mind-constructed me
within it -- to that better, truer self, 
an ached-for rosy apparition.
Do not disturb my slumber --
let me lie abed and smile
until this waking world conforms
to the ideal one I build
in dreams....

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In time
You will find
You become more defined
As in your mind
This helps coming to terms
With your existence
Although questions the extent of your persistence
Keep picking up 
That pen
That brush
That instrument
That camera
Keep creating
Filling the world up with art
In its many shapes and forms
While ignoring the expected conforms
Continuing to break free of the norms
So keep picking up
That pen
That brush
That instrument
That camera
Keep filling the world with art....

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