Tag: poetry

poetry

Rule Breaker

Yea, I’m a smoker.

I once flicked my cigarette butt into the road, no big deal.

Yea, I stay up too late, and sometimes I eat in bed.

I don’t like jay-walking, but I do it sometimes.

I even start conversations without saying hello.

Yea, I’m a Rule Breaker.

I’m not confined to your ways, or his ways, or her ways.

I do things my way.

I am a non-conformist.

What does that mean?

It means sometimes, or a lot of times, you’ll question my actions.

“Why did he just give me that look?”

“Why is he staring with that cute grin?”

“Why did he just leave his bags right there like that?”

Sorry, I’m having difficulty showing you bad side,

But that’s only because I break the rules.

I’m not going to give you all the juicy details.

No, I cannot let you know of my every decision,

past, present, or future. Therefore, what you see

Is what you get. A Rule Breaker.

I once broke a ruler. As a kid. In Philadelphia.

Now I break the rules because I am a man from Philadelphia.

But I’ll follow the rules just enough to break them!

You didn’t know that about me? Well, now you do!

That’s right! I’ll conform to your standards;

I’ll tuck my shirt in and wear a tie,

I’ll cut my hair and remain properly groomed,

I’ll even tie my shoe laces, but I must warn you:

I BREAK THE RULES

And just when you thought that I was wrong for my actions,

I’ll serenade you with my wonderful diction, in a conversation

Of Course, and at the brink we’ll discuss my radical actions,

But in the end I’ll convince you of the same.

“Let’s break the rules”.

You’ll follow suit.

They always do.

And when it seems like there is nothing else to do,

You’ll see that breaking rules leave you feeling kind of new.

Like a brand new sweater for next winter,

or a fresh pair of sandals for the summer time.

You’ll feel rejuvenated and uplifted.

You’ll ask yourself, “is this what freedom feels like?”

I’ll say “yes”. That’s right love, let us do it.

Let us not be the conformist the want, but let us

Conformed to our own standards of living. Let us

Search for joy, not despair. And let us build up,

Not break down. And let us rise, not descend.

And let us fly, not fall. So that when they ask us

Which rules do we follow, tell them we follow all of the rules.

That’s right, let’s lie to them baby. You know why?

It’s because we Break The Rules.

Tags poetry, Rule Breaker

America Art Earth Heaven poetry

From childhood’s hour I have not been
As others were—I have not seen
As others saw—I could not bring
My passions from a common spring—
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow—I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone—
And all I lov’d—I lov’d alone—
Then—in my childhood—in the dawn
Of a most stormy life—was drawn
From ev’ry depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still—
From the torrent, or the fountain—
From the red cliff of the mountain—
From the sun that ’round me roll’d
In its autumn tint of gold—
From the lightning in the sky
As it pass’d me flying by—
From the thunder, and the storm—
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view—