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?