Michael Walkerjohn

Gold Star - 13,805 Points (January 01 / Earth?)

Conventionality - Poem by Michael Walkerjohn

Maturation
ontogenesis
flowering passion
sanguinary reactions
thoroughly measuring
mesmerizing swallowing'
farawayness' forgotten
floundering deathly life
built, upon familiar lies…
Conversant' deny, that held behind
these simplified black and white rhythms
muted, desperate, inconsolable, buried so deeply
memories, stands an entire new world's beginning…
Filled completely of perfervid syncretise allusions
this world represents that sought for oyster
the prime motivator suitable, immutable
immovable and renewable; the source
irrevocable, capable of restoring you to
that which you were always meant to be…
However; you reject this entirely, desiring the
dissatisfaction arising, suddenly weighed down
by your incessant clamoring, your unthinkable
stammering, your cynical, clouding, pouting
sense of self, that laying down essence
blended in the acknowledged state
of conformity; soul and heart
dormant and sleeping, keeping
the charged soot of your existence
stumbling over bruising stones, leaving
your eyes lost, in the fires, and the heat
smothering all of your lifetime and all of
the other suffering beings around you in an
explosion of destructive inactions, while
the nagging truths of your divine powers
continue to burn with such intensity…
Please, explain this to me, clearly
and concisely as to the why
of this conventionality?

Topic(s) of this poem: frustration, reasoning, social comment


Poet's Notes about The Poem

Inspired by the word works of Valerie DuBois

Comments about Conventionality by Michael Walkerjohn

  • Michael Walkerjohn (1/27/2016 10:57:00 AM)


    Aloha Roseann...

    IAM considering these pleasurable moments reading your reviews and such personally revealing comments that I may have to take a powder, before my thoughts explode! Conventionality... that banal institution of our generation... hip deep in routine, in thought, in mindset, in living... unaware of our truths and our inner selves... busy, busy, busy pseudo beings politely shy of humans being what that were designed to be... a higher form of life in the universe, capable of incredible discoveries and accomplishments, buried in the mundane and droll of conventionality... Now that I have released a few of my more important posts to date... and have a moment or two of your interest... I can see that my work in words that are working well together can guide me to an upper readership, each whom may grasp, as you have, the essence of the message within the work and form of the post... for me, quite the accomplishment... once one's inner intensity is ignited and the thoughts are turned to that ever elusive answer seeking mode... then and only then can a rapport of incredible quality become the norm... Our words cannot be arranged so that all can comprehend... and I prefer to allow my works to hang around for a few hours... in an inquisitive similarity to one's efforts with tenderness... persuading the more curious and mindful who peruses to become involved, profoundly so, in the inner workings of these words at work... and this time, these efforts are proved successful... If we were to take your comments and teach these concepts to our body of writers... wow! that is some thought! For simply reading words and not comprehending them is ignorance... having a grouping of words grip one from within is the desired result of all thoughtful bards... recognition of a writer's passion is a two sided triumph... and to leave just one reader, burning with an inner intensity, is the ultimate goal for any human being who bothers to make this their task... Your thoughts, comments, and directions are wonderfully laid out and so positive... Your kindness is too deep... Hey! where is this leading!
    Inspiration is a multifaceted character... and all of your facets are supremely polished... All of the best from this life, to you, and all of your relations... Michaelw1two
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  • (1/26/2016 11:36:00 PM)


    In the beginning of your poem I was reading words, as I kept going the rhythm picked up considerably and I felt them grip me from within, becoming more and more intense and vividly open, passion building. By the end I was burning with an inner intensity, wanting it to be explained to me also, why this conventionality? Superb writing, just love it! 10+++ Thank you for sharing. RoseAnn (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, January 24, 2016

Poem Edited: Monday, January 25, 2016


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