Revolutionary Conformity
by
Debra Rose
(Age: 21)
copyright 09-19-2005
Age Rating: 13 to 127
It's like being a hypocrite,
A constant contradiction,
An overly emphasized infliction,
Of the human condition,
That will never disappear.
Like a desire,
A need
For something other than me,
To plant the seed,
Of revolutionary conformity.
Souls are gone,
Stripped bare by rain,
And crushed by gods
We hail,
Derail,
Everything you ever believed.
This is a revolutionary
Conformity.
The drugs
They call,
Come down with me
to the place
On the corner of fifth and Twain.
You can sell your soul
Or maybe your kids,
And in the end
You'll be too stoned to care.
But who cares?
After all,
The world revolves
Around our own ambitions.
Just start to breed
And grow the weed,
And mold to this,
Revolutionary conformity.
And when it ends,
Just to begin,
Once again,
You'll know you were
The killer,
The thriller,
The devil
That murdered your children,
But self motivated
Greed
Has placed these ideals,
We'll just tell our kids,
That they just need,
To follow this
Revolutionary Conformity.
Feel free to rip it apart. I really don't like this.
Originally posted in January of 2004, I'm still not too keen on this. Any ideas how to fix would be very welcomed!
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I understand, and I guess thats always been "my" part in commenting. I wont rip it apart because "I'm" not perfect. I did like reading this very much! It makes sense to me. Our world needs help. Big time. And I liked your write!! So no, I wont make a neg comment on it. At all. Nice write. I enjoyed it. Very much. It's very true. I could feel the passion and truth!
Jen
I stopped to read again, I have seen creativity turn from the youth to the age of wisdom growing, in time wisdom takes the edge off, I watched reality touch truth, and play turn to adult, though I miss the child, I see the woman turning to bloom. This poem needs to filed for a while. It is the ghost of the past and is ful bodied. It just needs some time to age. Walt
Debra, let me tell you where I see a slight problem in this poem. When I read, "Revolutionary conformity," automatically, I think of an armed conflict where the resistance has given up the fight and has conformed to the will of the oppressor or invader. The way I see it, your poem addresses conformity on a more personal and spiritual level. When you delve deep into the imagery of the wasted soul or the depleted mind, due to drugs or any other personal battle and then you inject, "Revolutionary conformity," to me, it just does not stick. Everything else is fine, except for the word, "Revolutionary," which by the way, it can also stand for "New." This is where I think the problem lies. Change revolutionary to something else and watch what happens....
I can understand the feeling of writing something and then not liking it. Sometimes, there is something within us, trying to claw its way out, and we can't seem to quite find the words to express just what is within us. We may write poems or stories, one after another, and not be in love with any of them because after we've written, the ganwing within us is still there, still looking for expression.
What find, though, is that when I go back to these poems after I've given full expression with the hunger that fed them, they are much better than what I remembered. They say far more than I thought they did, and while they may not quite say exactly what we were trying to speak at the time, they still speak something important.
I think this may be one of those times. I think you have something profound to say here, and I am hoping that you found the right words and patterns to answer your need to speak these truths that satisfies you. In the meantime, I agree with the others...this is a good write.
Welcome !
