"recalibrated" poems - Hello Poetry

I once wrote to mystify a tale of lifetimes crafted in each night and day. So I pray every night as I live a near-death experience before I sleep, and I wonder is it me or my PTSD? Souls are precious for the soul-less and mine will never be for sale. There are a million worlds out there and they are all lived here. Whatever might be the vows you've taken, by the morning they'll all lose their meaning because the night is harsh, and we suffer to sleep, and in our agony, the evil entities creep onto us with their mischievous deals. There are a million worlds out there and they are all lived here. My vision's been recalibrated to see every version of what is real, in threads of colors descending, intertwining with my stomach and neck, like a magical key to a world that emanates consciousness in orange and red. From the brink of death to love and respect, it is all good when I remember, but what can I do when I forget? I sleep hoping that the morning will bring back my optimism Words Of Harfouchism

0

May 3, 2021

May 3, 2021 at 6:52 AM UTC

Harleyhucof

Rewired Memory

I once wrote to mystify a tale of lifetimes crafted in each night and day. So I pray every night as I live a near-death experience before I sleep, and I wonder is it me or my PTSD? Souls are precious for the soul-less and mine will never be for sale. There are a million worlds out there and they are all lived here. Whatever might be the vows you've taken, by the morning they'll all lose their meaning because the night is harsh, and we suffer to sleep, and in our agony, the evil entities creep onto us with their mischievous deals. There are a million worlds out there and they are all lived here. My vision's been recalibrated to see every version of what is real, in threads of colors descending, intertwining with my stomach and neck, like a magical key to a world that emanates consciousness in orange and red. From the brink of death to love and respect, it is all good when I remember, but what can I do when I forget? I sleep hoping that the morning will bring back my optimism Words Of Harfouchism

9

Momento Mori encourages you to paint your own story Listening to that broken record mind is painful and boring. Silence the chatter and climb the chakra ladder to yourself for real glory. "Remember that you have to die" was planted with Latin roots. If only you could let go of your leaves, you wouldn't torment yourself with monotonous abuse. It seems we were trained to forget how to breathe. Switchboard recalibrated to go on autopilot against the breeze. Instead of asking why, we look to the neon lights for relief. Out of single file one man screamed with grief, " End the misery pretty please! The doctor says I gotta up the dosage unless I wanna be deceased. Oh master, do I not give you what you claim you need? I have kids to feed with no more means to deplete. You can take my seat, I'll work on my feet forever... **** you for shaping my life - No more, my ties to you I sever. Remember that you are going to die. Yes, even you, the self-proclaimed 'most high'. Go hide when you cry, in that same pit of hell where you forge all your lies. Get ready to fry, unless you face yourself long enough to stop opposing the divine." Momento Mori, my life I stopped forcing. Spine aligned, no longer contorting. Inhale as I stretch at my own leisure while I jot down my own story. The words come, only in the moment. I read the lines at the time you do, with our collective pages eternally unfolding.

0

Aug 3, 2015

Aug 3, 2015 at 2:57 PM UTC

Dreamstate528

Momento Mori

Momento Mori encourages you to paint your own story Listening to that broken record mind is painful and boring. Silence the chatter and climb the chakra ladder to yourself for real glory. "Remember that you have to die" was planted with Latin roots. If only you could let go of your leaves, you wouldn't torment yourself with monotonous abuse. It seems we were trained to forget how to breathe. Switchboard recalibrated to go on autopilot against the breeze. Instead of asking why, we look to the neon lights for relief. Out of single file one man screamed with grief, " End the misery pretty please! The doctor says I gotta up the dosage unless I wanna be deceased. Oh master, do I not give you what you claim you need? I have kids to feed with no more means to deplete. You can take my seat, I'll work on my feet forever... **** you for shaping my life - No more, my ties to you I sever. Remember that you are going to die. Yes, even you, the self-proclaimed 'most high'. Go hide when you cry, in that same pit of hell where you forge all your lies. Get ready to fry, unless you face yourself long enough to stop opposing the divine." Momento Mori, my life I stopped forcing. Spine aligned, no longer contorting. Inhale as I stretch at my own leisure while I jot down my own story. The words come, only in the moment. I read the lines at the time you do, with our collective pages eternally unfolding.

10

I am. That’s it. I am not in your parameters; I am not defined By what I make At the end of the month. I am – Spawn of this earth, Of stardust and chaos given birth. We are. That’s it. Not our countries, nor our flags, Not the imaginary lines and borders, Not our laws, or self-assured orders. We are – Sons and daughters of Mother Nature, The fruits of her beautiful labour. I am. It is this belief This sheer conviction That universal respect for all life Is key to avoiding strife. That is what should unite us all. To answer The now ubiquitous question “To be or not to be?” I would dare say, ”We have little choice, My dear Prince Hamlet. The moment we borrow our first breath We are, already.” Even though Many of us Have been under siege, Oppressed, hushed up, Manhandled, cuffed up, Generations of families Lost forever So a corporation can get contracts To rebuild their nation, EVEN though EVEN more of us Have had their souls ripped out And left To stumble around with no purpose, A life in service To faceless overlords Who will drain and absorb Not just us But the world in which we came to life, EVEN THOUGH All of this pain, All of this greed This amalgamation Of hate riding loneliness like a steed Has been infesting us Since time immemorial We still are. We Are here, We Can be the tip of the spear, A vanguard not bent on blood But on refusing To look the other way and obey When the world which we breathe Our air, the food we eat, Our health, our spiritual, Immaterial wealth, Are taken, abused, Packaged, used, Spent and then left, To rot and pollute. This is why Not enough of us Are fighting whenever we can; The resistance is there Its strength lies In this belief, a steady hand That fortifies. Action, When taken Like a swift, decisive arrow, Like the forlorn will Of thousands of millions Of souls lost, of children Washed ashore, Of blood and gore Spilled for a billionaire’s gains, Someone’s profit margin; When action Is taken as described When that rage, That void inside Is realigned, Re-aimed, Recalibrated to hit Not an innocent soul, Or a friend, or any Of those who are In the same gladiator pit But those who built it – Then, Then we will all get to be.

0

Mar 9, 2018

Mar 9, 2018 at 5:04 AM UTC

Jdelia420

I am

I am. That’s it. I am not in your parameters; I am not defined By what I make At the end of the month. I am – Spawn of this earth, Of stardust and chaos given birth. We are. That’s it. Not our countries, nor our flags, Not the imaginary lines and borders, Not our laws, or self-assured orders. We are – Sons and daughters of Mother Nature, The fruits of her beautiful labour. I am. It is this belief This sheer conviction That universal respect for all life Is key to avoiding strife. That is what should unite us all. To answer The now ubiquitous question “To be or not to be?” I would dare say, ”We have little choice, My dear Prince Hamlet. The moment we borrow our first breath We are, already.” Even though Many of us Have been under siege, Oppressed, hushed up, Manhandled, cuffed up, Generations of families Lost forever So a corporation can get contracts To rebuild their nation, EVEN though EVEN more of us Have had their souls ripped out And left To stumble around with no purpose, A life in service To faceless overlords Who will drain and absorb Not just us But the world in which we came to life, EVEN THOUGH All of this pain, All of this greed This amalgamation Of hate riding loneliness like a steed Has been infesting us Since time immemorial We still are. We Are here, We Can be the tip of the spear, A vanguard not bent on blood But on refusing To look the other way and obey When the world which we breathe Our air, the food we eat, Our health, our spiritual, Immaterial wealth, Are taken, abused, Packaged, used, Spent and then left, To rot and pollute. This is why Not enough of us Are fighting whenever we can; The resistance is there Its strength lies In this belief, a steady hand That fortifies. Action, When taken Like a swift, decisive arrow, Like the forlorn will Of thousands of millions Of souls lost, of children Washed ashore, Of blood and gore Spilled for a billionaire’s gains, Someone’s profit margin; When action Is taken as described When that rage, That void inside Is realigned, Re-aimed, Recalibrated to hit Not an innocent soul, Or a friend, or any Of those who are In the same gladiator pit But those who built it – Then, Then we will all get to be.

104

If you want to save me please let me go

0

Oct 22, 2018

Oct 22, 2018 at 2:10 AM UTC