"recalibrate" poems
I hear the ocean make music
Like the rustling of autumn leaves
The sound of them gently rubbing
As she swept my heart like a wind
Singing every word she breathes
Upon a haystack full of needles
With no rhymes, nor pauses
Neither masquerading riddles
Simple and unassuming
She is a beautiful mess
My heart keeps swooning
But I couldn’t care less
Her flaws are fascinating
Like ribbons on her sleeves
Her charm is perfume
Her name is a spell
A graceful soul I see
Inside a feeble shell
To me she’s one and only
And that I can tell
My heartbeat thunders
And chased her nightmares
Like aquamarine
Calm and serene
A thousand, ten thousand words
Isn’t enough to create one phrase
But surely, I wrote a love song for two
Must I recalibrate, I can’t undo
iamthe_avatar ©2014
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 3:23 PM UTC
Desires and dreams suffocating from the multitude of tightened nooses
Liars yell screams awaiting actions to ebb and let flow my creative juices
Fires up streams sinking ships and their teams burning all of their uses
Flyers and schemes left in the wake with the sinking list of all the excuses
Before you let go, you better recalibrate your aim
Who do you know, if you miss, can take the blame
Confront status quo, hide from your parent's shame
A stunt, try an grow, from a wildfire's blazing flame
Comme si comme sa
The grey area that I breathe
A snow print of a paw
Life's Purpose I must seethe
Lying out somewhere in the far off distance
Dying slow and numb with little resistance
Eyeing thee mortal setting sun's persistence
Vying for a final answer to human's existence
May 23, 2013
May 23, 2013 at 9:49 PM UTC
Home that's where I go
To recalibrate
To recoup lost energies
To recount all those tales
That filtered in so much lies
To the sea by the shore
Traipsing on the sand
Salty air clears the head
Of false thoughts lingering near
On the bed under clean sheets
Looking at excel worksheets
Joggling figures in thousands and millions
Trying to close in all the gaps
All but creative accounting lies
With books under wraps is hidden more lies
Officers here to uncover gave up their find
Mar 7, 2013
Mar 7, 2013 at 3:09 PM UTC
Running away
are
running toward
recalibrate
Feed your thoughts
.
Sep 11, 2025
Sep 11, 2025 at 10:44 PM UTC
An open letter to my mothers boyfriend,
When you blame millennials for the current state of our nation, you are disregarding the environment we've learn to survive in. Cookies hanging over our heads, blindly following the sound of people celebrating empty dreams. Dreams recited by our fathers. I am not trying to place blame on you, as I know you too have been infected by these unspoken rules. You too had a cookie hanging over your head. But I want you to know that our cookies just look different. As time passes recipes’ recalibrate and cookies transform. And I feel for you, maybe you’re still chasing the cookie, maybe it’s getting harder to chase, or maybe you ate the cookie and still felt hungry. But if we really want to have this conversation, about the current state of our nation, I’m gonna need for you to stop talking about cell phones and 20 something year olds and start talking about where these cookies came from!
Feb 13, 2019
Feb 13, 2019 at 3:26 PM UTC
★ ✰ ✪ ★ ✰ ✪ ★ ✰ ✪
The Baby-Hole, her baby-hole!
Turn back before you lose your soul.
Those walls of pink, those gates of pearl
grant entrance to each boy and girl
who come through this organic portal:
newly-born and merely mortal.
Mystery to be dignified—
explored, adored, objectified:
the baby-hole’s expanding chasm,
promising celestial spasm,
is limned in deliquescent love
and fits the soul as hand in glove.
Beware her tantalizing pull
where poetry turns vaginal.
From depths profound, God can create
(where man would merely **********
hitting Mother Nature’s high note
as the gamete turns to zygote).
Semi-seconds’ spurting passion
years of living baby fashion.
After pleasure’s jest, gestation
thus augments the population;
teenage dads recalibrate,
unsure just what to celebrate.
Yet, if they knew the daring risk
their ***** endure, they’d slip a disc;
to realize what threatening odds
confront these flagellated gods:
(see Luke in Star Wars, [number IV]
battling fascists in the war
alone in the zone to shoot the shot
that blows the death star up. Let’s not
miss out on noting, in this theme,
life’s true conception. So the team
of X-wing pilots flew the run,
eliminated one by one
save Luke, who penetrated deep
the death-star’s ovulated keep
and overcame the egg’s defense
and hit the mark. It all makes sense.
The spheroid bursting in his sight
depicts Conception's glorious might).
Therefore, show the matrix honor.
Shoot and leave—your star’s a goner:
nurture growth while life allows you,
while your star can still espouse you.
Seek her core of hidden gnosis
don’t just set off cell mitosis…
not, that is, unless you are sure
that the three of you won’t end up poor.
Feb 9, 2017
Feb 9, 2017 at 8:02 PM UTC
epitomize
and optimize
imitate
and recalibrate
streamline
and recombine
the evolutionary "line"
fireflies
and theorize
circulate
and gyrate
guideline
and divine
the galaxy and the stars
moonrise
and clockwise
death rate
and procreate
sunshine
and lifeline
laws of nature are defined
maximize
and re-size
penetrate
and migrate
bloodline
and decline
the story of our world
allies
and despise
prostate
and dictate
enshrine
and benign
generations throughout time
endings
and beginnings
losing
and winnings
and everything
in between
is what we find
Mar 4, 2010
Mar 4, 2010 at 4:44 PM UTC
When the sweat is dry on my brow
I will get up.
I'll be able to focus then better, I think.
The sweat is linked to a general malaise,
where objects drift in double shapes...
Not unpleasantly.
But smarter, I think, to stay. At least,
Let the pupils dilate, and left eye
Recalibrate it's aim.
The salt and sweat malign the eyes,
which either slip too fast past the the target,
or arrive a bit delayed.
You said:
Maybe we'd be happier if we moved on with our lives.
You're seeing something in Iowa that was likely there all along.
And the more I feel like you could slip away
I become more paranoid and afraid.
Wondering now who you're with,
Whether this path ultimately leads to my replace.
Though maybe we both agree, then, with what you said.
I can't hang on to something that long got on a plane and left.
Or try and **** through wires the delusion of a scent,
that dissipates, reductively, with every breath.
Though I will rephrase, in my own way,
the sentiment I think remains:
It would be more prudent to
Let the nose and lungs to rest.
Let us be ungreedy with breath.
If you move on I will let you pass.
I cannot hold you within me,
And these cavities have not the space.
But I will taste your color again, perhaps,
In the wind, a laugh,
The wet heat of a lovers face.
I will taste your color again,
In the wind, a laugh,
The wet heat of a lovers face.
If you move on I will let you not just pass but
dissipate.
And rebuild a more modest faith:
Just once, to inhale again something like what went.
(And still remember what it meant.)
Feb 19, 2017
Feb 19, 2017 at 4:03 PM UTC
I am capable
Of anything and everything
And exceeding expectations
I will blow you
Out of the water
With my delivery and presentation
Wow people
Of every place
Space
and Imagination
Open doors to galaxies
That will recalibrate
Your mental foundation
Fill you with love
5th dimensional
Fixation.
Aug 26, 2021
Aug 26, 2021 at 3:34 PM UTC
Let's take a second
Recalibrate this conversation
You do know, right
That I am the hinge on this life
I don't want praise
Or a pat on the back
But even hinges need WD-40
From time to time.
**** it,
I need to be greased constantly
I'm needy in that way
(Therapy helps)
But look into my day-to-day:
On my left is the Wall,
My root and my reason
My family (my girls).
The Wall is permanent, important
(Those words don't do it justice)
On me it relies on necessities of life.
For that Wall, I hold the Door.
The Door on the right,
Replaceable, not solid,
It's a means (to an end)
That Door is temporary, minute
(Compared to the house)
And on me it rests, day in and day out.
On ME it rests
I am the only hinge
The other?
We won't talk about him
But hinges only have two hands, you see
One on the wall, one on the door
I have no hands that are free
Hinges are fierce little *******
That are good at their jobs
But they age all the same
So **** off.
May 16, 2017
May 16, 2017 at 5:47 PM UTC
.*well... a horror movie soundtrack is just a choice... there's always a loop of the song dreaming, from the coraline soundtrack; i'm such a sentimental schmuck.*
fasting all day,
blood sugar levels low in
the later afternoon...
filling up on an English
breakfast leftovers past
midnight...
it's raining... and there's
still more than 3/4 of
a whiskey bottle left...
but it's raining...
and...
i suppose i should wish
to write something...
but then... then again...
with the bedroom window
ajar...
putting on some horror movie
soundtrack...
and subsequently listening
to the rain...
do i really need another "poem"?
another, rather ********
statement concerning
flashing numbers...
in red, rather than emerging
words from a blank space?
no... not really...
there's just something about
a recalibrate of the body
after a day of fasting...
it's like ******* Ramadan
with me, almost all year round...
i guess with the whole globalist
affair... i sleep-stalking
my time in these hours...
at twenty minutes past 1am
most people are asleep...
while i'm...
just shy of pouring myself
another drink,
and contemplating falling asleep
mingling a horror movie
soundtrack and the falling rain;
rhapsody of the most gentle
scuttling, tapping...
i call it...
the aqua-aranea effect...
water-spider effect...
ghostly piano of the night...
weaving a lullaby like
no other lullaby could ever
be sung;
like the hallow call of the impeding
inevitability of death -
and: that rare grace:
of primordial yet at the same time:
eternal sleep.
Oct 14, 2018
Oct 14, 2018 at 8:29 PM UTC
Look up at the sky, into the heavens
_smile_
Look down at the earth, into hell
_giggle_
Jul 8, 2018
Jul 8, 2018 at 1:04 AM UTC
Here’s to scrumptious nights.
cats and boots and cats and boots
We went clubbing last night, to recalibrate
ourselves on the dance floor, where magic happens.
cats and boots and cats and boots and cats and boots
To focus on sensory experiences, the beat,
and share in the fun and tangible sense of freedom.
cats and boots and cats and boots
Feel the wave, show your energy, be the wave
cats and boots and cats and boots
be disheveled, swing your hair like a weapon
abandon, silly, self-protecting vanities
cats and boots and cats and boots
flashing lights on dancing figures
make it all seem slo-mo and extreme.
cats and boots and cats and boots
It’s been too long since we’ve done it like this.
Work-worn, I’d lost my lucidity and stumbled badly on a quiz.
Lisa pushed my books onto the floor, declaring, “Get UP, we’re grabbing some bliss.”
cats and boots and cats and boots and cats and boots and cats and boots
failure has a reality, a gravity and pull all the more shocking in relief.
I’d started out the evening gloomy and ashamed - a figure of regret -
but I’m better now, buoyed and recharged and soon I’ll have a plan - hopefully.
cats and boots and cats and boots and cats and boots and cats and boots
There was a guy there, on the dance floor, who looked like a young Leonardo DiCaprio.
We made eye contact, nodding and smiling at each other in motion.
We gyrated, together, sort of, for a second, in our separate orbits - no conversation
I just watched him for a moment or two, sexualizing him like eye candy.
Just seeing him was sensual fun and I wondered what he smelled like.
He had a gritty, sweaty, idealized beauty, like a dancing ‘David’
that no Michelangelo could ever capture in stiff granite sculpture.
The music ended - momentarily - we knew it would start up again
and we were there for it - til 1 or 2 am anyway - then it recranked.
cats and boots and cats and boots and cats and boots and..
Lisa grabbed my hand, jerking me onto the dance floor almost
before I could set down my drink. Eeek! “Slow Down!” I yelled,
but my complaint was lost in the din and my involuntary laugh.
cats and boots and cats and boots and cats and boots and..
.
.
Songs for this:
Dance To This (feat. Ariana Grande) by Troye Sivan
Good Time Girl (feat. Charlie Barker) by Sofi Tukker
Sep 28, 2024
Sep 28, 2024 at 8:14 AM UTC
I shut off my power and my phone in an attempt to recalibrate, which is why I haven’t been posting lately. I go for a two hour walk everyday after work, talk to weird people, as well as make friends with stray animals before going home and playing my guitar until sundown. I light some candles and sit next to my open window and read until the Coast2Coast show comes on my crank radio and I listen until I fall asleep. The cold shower in the morning takes some serious ***** but after defeating the cold shower I have noticed my productivity at work sky rockets, as nothing that I will face through out my day will require the will power that is required in facing cold water submersion first thing in the morning. I have been writing the old school way with a silver Cross pen in a sketch book my mother had bought me for my 18th birthday, and boy have I forgotten what a pain it is to do edits with pen and paper.
I was growing bitter, self destructive, and unappreciative, and I figure I needed to hit rock bottom to appreciate the little things again. Thus far it is working, and I am only two weeks in. I am shooting for October 1st before I turn the power on. The phone may come sooner, as my boss is ******** I am attempting to build my body, mind and spirit as a result of my looming feelings of forlorn that have been pressing in on me in an almost shout that I have mostly ignored the past couple of years, but the time of putting my instincts aside has ended. My ear is to the ground and my eyes are to the sky and once I am full of what these fill me with, I will speak of what I have found. Be well friends, and see you soon.
Jul 31, 2013
Jul 31, 2013 at 8:27 PM UTC
O, you mountains
Fists of rock, jutting toward heaven
Your Picasso faces, so broad and strong
Pine and fir above prairie grass
Elk and moose and bear reigning superior
Such heights, such deep distances
You recalibrate for me, my size
I am lost in your immense trajectory up,up
And my breath is taken from me
With no regret
Blowing off your defiant peaks
Sep 24, 2010
Sep 24, 2010 at 8:07 PM UTC
I’m walking away from everything
That’s ****** me off
Or made me unhappy
*I’m going to let myself lose control
talk to strangers, I don’t know
move to a foreign land
be back by Christmas, but who knows what then*
I’m going to leave this place I know
pack up my things, let my baggage go
become a stranger to myself
Maybe return as someone else
I’m going to reinvent myself
be irresponsible with my wealth
find a new song to sing
get in a fight, hear myself scream
I need to recalibrate my soul
I need no one to make me whole
I’m going to make more time for me
make all my lists of dreams realities
I don’t need my head on straight
I’m twenty-one not thirty-eight
I’m allowed to fall apart
be stupid, follow my heart
Mar 8, 2011
Mar 8, 2011 at 2:17 PM UTC
Regret
sounds like
knees hitting carpet
faster than words can travel
through a cellphone receiver.
It looks like
a black left fender
on a brown Honda accord.
It feels like
boulders placed
between your joints.
It does not leave
until you pick it out
from between your teeth.
It is a filling meal
that leaves you unsatisfied.
You must recalibrate your scale,
convert the value of moments gone.
Wipe your shield clean,
and watch the road ahead.
Asphalt under your tires
can fill you to new depths.
And you can be light again.
Apr 6, 2012
Apr 6, 2012 at 12:38 PM UTC
paranoid eyes
run infinite eights
try to see the angles
in this tesselated state
look beyond the holographic
mind recalibrate
repeat the mantra
to the self
differentiate
Aug 2, 2014
Aug 2, 2014 at 8:32 PM UTC
i learned the hard way that love
doesn’t mean staring down the barrel
of a loaded gun,
telling me it’s his way or no way at all.
no one can ever make me
compromise my values,
not even the sweetest face (you),
not even the smoothest talker (you),
not even the gentlest touch (you).
i see you in every landscape,
every arrangement of orange leaves
on the autumn trees,
the snowfall on the tall mountainsides,
and i feel you in the hot sun
that beats down on my skin,
but i can’t keep dancing around
the words on my tongue,
the ones that keep trying to
pry open my lips, gasping for air,
begging to be set free.
no one can recalibrate my mind
to suit his needs, his wants.
we promised love to each other,
but even that isn’t enough for me
when my concerns, my beliefs,
aren’t second to none.
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 12:50 AM UTC
I ought to believe
That your heart is paralleled
With my veins that I look on to
Blood streaming you've cancelled
Things I look up to happen,
The plans I made carefully,
Destroying my inner senses
Without you knowing it internally.
My shattered belief
Never hassles me to the bore
Where you never drop an expectation
Frustrated like a kid in a toystore.
It's hard to act naturally
What else can I say
I must recalibrate my sensitivity
Oh, What a day.
May 27, 2016
May 27, 2016 at 10:01 AM UTC
With a buzzing chest I float into the abyss
Striving to recalibrate
Feeling the emptiness around me I regain my sense of meaningless
In the dark I don’t exist
No pressure
No expectations
No judgements
I feel total relief and utter bliss
I’ve abused this paradise in the past but not again
This time I will remain here forever
Jan 10, 2018
Jan 10, 2018 at 10:27 PM UTC
if it started in the basement where do we end up?
when my lips press up questions with my hands far down below
what do I want from you?
new love got noticed today
re-calibrate and judge again
is there anything we've fought for?
the text behind my fingers might be lying but my lips for sure are not.
holding hands doesn't count when your mouth is facing the other way
back at home shallow hands we've hung up at the door
and duct-taped truth gagged in the den
if it's in the open, it shouldn't have to be said
but you just could be blind? or is your mouth not quite on straight?
like mine.
re-calibrate and judge again
is there anything we've fought for?
the text behind my fingers might be lying but my lips for sure are not.
holding hands doesn't count when your mouth is facing the other way
please try again with this vending machine of love
I wont take your crumpled-for-granted dollar no more
take me out to city streets
or i'll just go alone
and perhaps text you when i'm home
re-calibrate and judge again
is there anything we've fought for?
the text behind my fingers might be lying but my lips for sure are not.
holding hands doesn't count when your mouth is facing the other way
reading lines from a script in goodnights and hello's and daring daring not to say
when I didn't always mean it
it goes unspoken face to face
what do you hear between us?
I think I'm going deaf
re-calibrate and judge again
is there anything we've fought for?
re-calibrate and judge again
is there anything we've fought for?
holding hands doesn't count when my mouth is facing the other way pressed against somebody else's.
I hope you notice before I have to say.
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 9:27 PM UTC
If you think of everything else
all
the
time
You'd better start thinking
about
yourself
Oct 23, 2018
Oct 23, 2018 at 7:50 PM UTC
To all interested parties:
Be aware
My guilt button is out of order
Due to mismanagement
And over usage
It was burned up.
Please do not attempt
To resuscitate
Recalibrate
or commiserate
The loss
Empathy, compassion and gentle humor have agreed together to compensate.
For an unspecified time period
Joy and peace are their
Sunrise greeters and
Moonrise seaters
In this theatre of daily grace.
Aug 18, 2015
Aug 18, 2015 at 12:55 PM UTC
It's the start of a new year
Time to embrace a new direction
A new way of viewing things
A brighter and more positive perspective
First is to let go of the past
Because the land to be occupied ahead is vast
Time to consciously make decisions
And prevent weeds from your garden
It's not time to wait for people's approval or disapproval
Time to choose the seeds to plant and cultivate
The season to self-motivate
To use positive energy to irrigate
Love is an energy that we must propagate
A required force for us to elevate
When things appear blurry
Spend more time to meditate
Look within and recalibrate
Jan 2, 2019
Jan 2, 2019 at 6:04 PM UTC