"rectified" poems
646
I think to Live—may be a Bliss
To those who dare to try—
Beyond my limit to conceive—
My lip—to testify—
I think the Heart I former wore
Could widen—till to me
The Other, like the little Bank
Appear—unto the Sea—
I think the Days—could every one
In Ordination stand—
And Majesty—be easier—
Than an inferior kind—
No numb alarm—lest Difference come—
No Goblin—on the Bloom—
No start in Apprehension’s Ear,
No Bankruptcy—no Doom—
But Certainties of Sun—
Midsummer—in the Mind—
A steadfast South—upon the Soul—
Her Polar time—behind—
The Vision—pondered long—
So plausible becomes
That I esteem the fiction—real—
The Real—fictitious seems—
How bountiful the Dream—
What Plenty—it would be—
Had all my Life but been Mistake
Just rectified—in Thee
3.7k
There's a tiger in the tree top,
playing checkers with the sun king,
cutting light across the cloudscape,
as black takes red for another king me,
God carves the stubble along the jaw line,
clean cut remedy
we all sing for the twenty-third century break me down,
break the matchbox,
light us up,
burn the red wood down,
tiger's gonna swallow the world,
tiger's gonna bleed a rectified rainbow realist chorus,
all the pawns are at root,
all players underfoot,
God's got checkers playing with the son killing world feaster,
tiger tiger, what do you fear?
oh tiger tiger, what hell do you bear?
oh tiger, how death plays you so
so foolish,
tiger tiger,
you fall
Aug 22, 2012
Aug 22, 2012 at 3:04 AM UTC
Your effort to save me was three words long
As though years of bitterness could be rectified
With a superficial, overdone, idiotic phrase...
So that you could at least say you "tried."
It's pathetic how the words tickle the back of my throat
Always waiting to spill onto the nearest sympathetic ear
And even more so pathetic that they are never said...
Because I'm convinced you won't say what I want to hear.
It is in your ignorance that you reach out to shattered people
Without recognizing the barbed wire around them
And you'd be infected with their plague with the slightest *****
I hope you're infected, I hope you end up broken.
You're not above this. You're not.
You pretend to be just as okay as we do
You're not some miracle healer; not godsend
I hope you realize we, every single one of us, hate you.
Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 10:07 PM UTC
Whether or not we were created or we happened by chance, we still exist. Whether we are real or not, we still are. Whether there is more or it's all over, in this world or a next, let us just be.
I do to become. I do therefore I choose. I choose therefore I think. I think therefore I can. I can only cause I am and I am so I become...
Purpose is found among a vast sea of many meanings from which each picks that which shall compete the statement above. Influenced or not; Predetermined or not - this selection is still made regardless of belief, precisely because it is belief.
Thus, our existence precedes this purpose but proceeds from a sea of meaningless. For ambiguity, or many meanings, is just a synonym for meaningless.
Embrace this and you shall live! Freedom is but the choice to choose a master. The 'how you will exist' is up to you and for as long as you exist, the only permanence is this capacity for decision not the choice itself you make.
The question thus gradually evolves from "Why do I exist" and "What is my purpose" to "What do I become" and "What should I spend my time doing"
However, be afraid not of a mistake. Simply learn from it for all it needs to be rectified is a different mind from s/he who made it. Though, with that being said, still be careful not to break that which cannot be entirely mended.
Oct 30, 2016
Oct 30, 2016 at 12:47 AM UTC
As the colors blend on this paper I begin to see that this work is an original just like me.
A duplicate you'll never find. This design is from my mind.
The colors are different and they add their own flavor. Red's not hating because black has become his neighbor.
Yellow is aged and her clothes are falling apart. I grab some clear tape to help her out and then I can finish my piece of art.
Purple is having a hard time as of late. The job she has she doesn't like because the pay's not so great.
Brown is so good to her boss and has begged for a raise. He sent
her a stained memo that said " I'm working on your situation. It should be rectified one of these days." Mr. Brown
I keep my eye on green because he's always watching me and my homies. I heard him mumble something about the other colors I hang with. He said they were phonies.
White talked to Orange the other day and she didn't have a clue.....that Orange had been fired from her job and now Orange is feeling blue.
They all used to live in a box.....until I dumped them on the table. The crayons rolled and scattered relieved to see the light of day. They were glad to be free of a box that didn't have cable.
No matter what our differences are and the problems we go through.....when we work together .....we make gray skies blue.
We can make grown ups small and children grow. Your imagination is allowed free reign. Now in which direction will you go?
Oct 8, 2012
Oct 8, 2012 at 2:49 AM UTC
You chided and misguided--
Sighed and chided snidely--
While I stood there and deified:
Your opinion was once so sanctified
That it petrified and putrefied
'Til I was drawn to suicide.
And I won't lie,
I doubt that you'd have even cried.
Now this patricide's not emblemized;
Not glorified nor a source of pride.
It's just that I've been rectified;
I'm satisfied and verified.
You see, old man, your claims have been denied.
I stride beside a stronger pride,
We're unified, not terrified,
And, were you here, I'd just...
Laugh.
Sure,
We simplify and vilify,
All that we fear, but I--
I can't bring myself to cry;
I'll no longer will myself to die--
Because, in the end I'm just too high
To even look you in the eye.
I've modified and purified.
And, while you're compelled
to sit and hide,
I'm glorified--self deified--
And your podium's is now occupied
By the one who you once toxified.
And NONE of it's been for you.
No, old man, it's not for you!
Mar 16, 2014
Mar 16, 2014 at 1:49 AM UTC
There's a lady in the morning fog
who feeds on porcelain thoughts,
And she haunts the edges March.
There are no five point dancers
With their evening red and gold.
Ready and willing to tumble and fall.
Just her, alone; In the bog
listening to us all.
The beasts only swim, crawl, and fly
By the Sycamore, rotten and petrified.
In Death there is life
And all ears are amplified.
"Testify."
**"Are you the soul that brings fear?
The Specter of my own Heresy?
Get off the wind and answer me.
Will you light the wild and chant the Lord's Prayer?"**
*"Through all my inequities I'll never
know sin like you.
Whip the poor and condemn the youth.
Blame the ******
Clergymen tend to always do.*
"We are justified!
**To do what we do
Is the work of the lord!
Truth will always bend
To the ambassadors' works."**
The feast is for the thin, chalked with divine
And those on shore: honest and rectified.
Breath is man's plight,
And all eyes lie.
There's a man waiting at the edge of dawn
Who purges a man of his own thoughts
He owns his defiled marsh.
There are no five point answers
Without their threaded holes
Steadily fulfilling to us all.
Just him, enthroned; on a rock
Judging us as we fall.
Feb 14, 2017
Feb 14, 2017 at 2:39 PM UTC
The man,
a blank stamped out by machines in Japan,
modified
rectified
passed as suitable for use.
Empty then topped up with interactions 'til blocked up,
plug pulled.
Re-issued
replaced
wires encased in
vanadium.
Faces in the auditorium,
murmurings in the gallery,
a star explodes in a distant galaxy
I know how it feels.
Every random seed feeds leads leading into the core
and the core is what blanks and men are made for.
Jul 24, 2015
Jul 24, 2015 at 3:01 AM UTC
Crimson clouds cloud my vision
I see red all over
My reflection's blurry in the mirror
and its eyes look for cover
They're ashamed of what they see
as I dream of redemption
of wrongs rectified and apologies made
of certainty in my being
but spiders keep on crawling
in the shadows they build webs
of guilt and of me, missing you
while the sun is out
and the flowers sing with their colours
It is bright
so bright it hurts my dark eyes
they're not used to this light
of your hand touching petals
in a different kind of summer
Jul 25, 2022
Jul 25, 2022 at 4:33 PM UTC
A dust storm blows through Kansas
Stinging, lashing shrieks
The sand blows holes through a Canvas
Who collects the words, and sleeks
The gunfire of their sound, for weeks
His brows steeled and heavy
The whirlwind quits its wails
And leaves, lily-livered in its belly
A tsunami bellows over Mastushima bay
Body slamming into townsfolk
A long-time build up lead astray
One sun-browned girl is left to choke
But then spits out the damage, in half broke
And the colossal wave recedes
Quietened, calm and apologetic
Anger fleeing as it bleeds
Snow drifts and crawls its way past Moscow
Gentle, almost alluring in its ways
Children present their tongues, and the sow
Charges, squealing, into guts and begins frays
Which twist their ears burnt, lasting for a thousand days
And eventually a conscience melts the qualm
And the damage rectified on-surface
But frostbite clings to fingers; done already is the harm
Weather will hound and scorch and spit
And eventually untether
And though people bite and kick and hit
No emotion lasts forever
Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 8:44 AM UTC
I've been redeemed for all my personal sins.
Sins I did on a spur of a whim.
Just caught up in my personal joy.
Joy that through my stupidity.
I wanted to explore.
My redemption came in all those that forgave me.
When in their hearts they didn't have too.
I been rectified with truth before my eyes.
When they accepted my apology.
What's the use of pretending to be?
When in reality you hadn't adapted to anything.
My redemption came from those I wronged.
And through it all I remained strong.
Traveling through life and afraid to admit your troubles.
Soon will multiply into being double.
But I've been redeemed.
I see the true light of doing right.
Jul 28, 2012
Jul 28, 2012 at 9:26 PM UTC
I speak for him
in soft whispers
delicate annunciations
that linger
on my craving lips.
I lust for him
With trembling hands
ineffable
anticipation
of feeling him
under my eager palms.
I breathe for him
in breathless gasps
startled by his disposition
inhale and
exhale
swollowing profound ecstasy.
I hope for him
When his world
Crumbles
bleak and desolate
Amity discovered
a beacon of immense light.
I love for him
beyond comprehension
and far past reason
Invoking
this rectified heart to beat
only
for him.
May 3, 2017
May 3, 2017 at 12:46 AM UTC
In her make believe world, she lives in her dreams
To escape from reality, where slates are made clean
With her make believe family, laying under one roof
Nobody can harm them, as they live just for TRUTH!
Where pain is no longer, just a breed of good health
With no need for money, no longer bad stealth
In this make believe haven, with the grass evergreen
Where love is the answer, and yet she still DREAMS!
Where thoughts are no longer, unclear nor opaque
Translucent and truthful without deceit nor heartbreak
Mistakes can be rectified, they just clean out the mind
Then absolve all the hatred, to enrich it with KIND!
In her make believe world, just LOOK how she shines!
Futile is extinguished, all the wars left behind
Together as one unit, where they don’t walk alone
So she stays in a coma, to return never, HOME!
© By LynnKaren
Jul 27, 2016
Jul 27, 2016 at 6:57 PM UTC
A living skin, a skein of green briars
where a half-hinged door is wagged by the wind
Good-natured god, decay’s stigmata-stained spires
nettles paint the stairs splotch patterned, olive skinned
Glass window shards grab a slip of silk curtain
pick-pocket beetles engrave brute luck broadside
Chimney thrushes cabined in ash are certain
cynicism’s growing sums are rectified
Blue jays opine time’s cuckoo clock mocking
worms ply enormous copses, scrawl casts of clay
Autumn gusts and rains whirl detritus stocking
flung colors Pollocked, clutter’s chaos array
Hours dissolve the acorns and soft seeds scatter
as grasses grown tall have turned light yellow
architecture’s flourishes are picked off
crumbled valuables filched and turned to dirt
tumult’s passages dug the driveway’s trough
carrion feeders pull black quills from their shirt
slugs smear a rainbow trail and mice scurry
collapsed walls fall to the slush of leaf slurry
Nov 30, 2017
Nov 30, 2017 at 1:15 AM UTC
Broke the Rules...
Left some clues...
I'm a fool...
Now...Living in a cesspool...
I hear the economy is bad...
And getting worse each day...
Although it hasn't affected me in any way..
I can even keep Kosher if I choose.
So what do I have to lose ?...
I get three meals a day..
And sometimes a snack...
Clean clothes everyday I put on my back..
Exercise is a daily routine..
that I choose to do ..and it keeps me lean..
My quarters are small..but after all..
We have a room with a big color TV...
And a place for family and friends who visit me...
Healthcare ? not a problem you see..
As I don't pay for insurance like thee...
Problem with teeth...rectified
Education, Degree, I can even be Certified..
Because unlike you, who lives outside..
You need to work to survive...
Now I'm a part of the system you see..
And have it much easier than any of thee..
I broke the law and now pay the price...
But I'm still better off than your lousy life...
And when I'm released, I will qualify for...
Medicaid, Medicare and even more...
So you may have done it different than me...
But in "old age ", we're equal you see...
Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 9:00 PM UTC
THE EARTH WAS STILL
AS IT SWIRLED AROUND ME
A HAZE OF ASH AND DREAMS
A BURN VICTIM OF AN UNREALIZED FANTASY
SCREAMING IN TWISTED EXCSTASY
AS MY FACES MELTED AND PETRIFIED
FROZEN FOR A LIFE ALIEN RECTIFIED
WITH A SHARP OBSIDIAN *****
TO DELIVER ME REMADE
HE SCRAWLED AND CLAWED HIS WAY TO ME
HIS WORLD ENTIRE, AS THOUGH I COULD SEE
MY LOVER ONCE DELAYED
BY GRIEF AND ASHES, A MISTAKEN AIDE
OF THE LOST GODSPOKE MEN
HE TOLD THEM TO LEAVE HIM DIRE
THAT HIS PASSION WOULD CARRY HIM THROUGH MUCK AND MIRE
FIERY INTO THE REALM ABANDONED CRIES
WRAPPED IN THE DUSTY ORGANZA LIES
HE SEEMED LIKE AN EYELESS CREATURE
BLUNDERING HIS WAY, A BLIND BEESHECHER
SEARCHING FOR LOVE WHERE THERE WAS ONLY
A MAELSTROM OF LONGING
REBORN IN HIS GRAVE OF PROPHETS AND GRIEF
A SOLDIER SENT ONCE TO TEACH
THE FIRE SCORCHING AND TWISTING MY SHROUD
AS HIS WORLD WENT TUMBLING, BROKEN AND PROUD
TORN IN HIS WAKE OF GRACE
AND WHEN MY BODY HE FOUND ENCASED
IN GLASS, AS THOUGH A TRUE LOVE AWAITS
BUT WHAT HE COULD NOT ENKINDLE IN HIS HEART
WAS WHAT WOULD RIP THE GLASS APART
LOST IN OBSIDIAN IN ASH AND GLASS
A SHALLOW PRISON
OF LOSING AND LOVE AND
THE SPACE BETWEEN US
Apr 20, 2015
Apr 20, 2015 at 8:09 PM UTC
in the middle of a down pour
with insults for rain drops
death for thunder
ignorance for wet
cold for cold
the leader was a ticking time bomb
and the answer was hiding
in fear
in the middle of a lesson
on the blessings of shame
and the danger of the human race
came the reality of suicide
a life otherwise ok
if not provoked by mind games
a reality still existing today
repeating in a way
that cant be rectified
or changed
a nightmare
on permanent replay
Oct 17, 2021
Oct 17, 2021 at 10:10 PM UTC
If I were a time traveller,
Would I be able to jump back?
Or would I die in the process?
And if I could do a thing again,
Presuming that I reach back in time,
Would I remain conscious of what needs to be rectified?
And what's the guarantee that
What happened won't repeat itself the same way?
And what's going to happen to my existence in this timeline?
Traveling time would not make any difference,
Why?
Because the past has already happened, it can't be changed.
If at all, I'd end up in a parallel timeline,
Stuck forever,
In the middle of people who want me dead.
Apr 29, 2024
Apr 29, 2024 at 7:58 AM UTC
Becoming broken is not a choice;
The slow degeneration
Has no fault or blame
It is when your mind is once more
Rectified; what you do from
There is not the same
When sick and becoming worse
I had no choice, my actions
Were not ever my own
But now sitting in the hospital
Seeing clearly my sad
Condition, I have grown
I can now make a choice
As I teeter on the brink
Of relapse and more madness
I could choose to fight
To walk away and learn not
To be controlled by sadness
It means now the flinging down
Desultory, of what I have craved
And sought for years;
It means closing some doors
Finding out what resides
On the other side of fear
To give up control, weight loss
Strict rules; to give up
On the easy destruction
To learn to breathe, to learn again
To feel and to smile
To fight these inclinations
While sinking I had no choice
While torn, no concept
That this is not what life is
But now in the aftermath
Seeing clear my insanity
I can choose to be more than this;
So I choose to do the opposite
Of what the voices say
I may not deserve food, love
But only according to
The devil resting in my mind
I must turn to the stars above;
To eat, learn to fuel my body
Appreciate its natural
Shape, resilience, form;
To stop harming myself as
Some sick replacement
To emotion; not be a storm
I must learn to settle and sit
With sadness, then hope
I will no longer seek to die;
To face my fears, challenge those
Old rules, and now I pray
I can learn to be alive.
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 11:52 AM UTC
What man has made of man,
Is the weeping snow reviling its pompous cry,
What man has made of man,
Is the unwanted dandelion left for wishes to die.
You see now, what man has made of man
Is not what God wanted,
For our souls have absconded,
To be forever daunted.
Silly you not rectified!
Those rose colored glasses won't last forever,
As for us who access our beautiful, hoodwinked temptation,
We stay fated to see salvation never.
In this case of reality on the precipice,
The money in your hand weighs nothing.
For you'd think what man has made of man,
Should be worth something.
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 9:40 PM UTC
Please hold for an obligatory moment of silence, mute in its act, wordless in its perpetration.
Place artificial flowers on outer lapels, held in place with no concentration.
Feudal rivalries resurrected for resources and land…to be ripped from the native source’s hand.
Pitiful glances at battle worn soldiers, still praising ideology projecting them as a supported saviour.
Unregretful acts lead one to question their behaviour.
Service dogs doled out in bulk, preventing an army of PTS Banners from turning Hulk.
These discretionary acts of ill will mutilate the concept of freedom, and men who fought to uphold its worth.
These incendiary pacts on parliament hill, fumigating for roaches of aspersion, are bastardizing a new world’s birth.
Carriers’ return home, housing the long departed, not to be thanked, not to be appreciated, but to be ****** for unholy, sanctified acts.
Permitted parade zone, rousing the socially guarded, to be spanked, depreciated, and deemed unworthy to stand, before coyly rectified rats
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 12:02 PM UTC
With so much negativity in this universe,
Being featured by media for cash motives,
Human minds are exposed to cynicism.
Watching sinners circulating hate every day,
Viewing drama that adds thrills to typicality,
We examine conflicts of barbarism with desire.
Persistent suffering is fueled by hostilities,
A ravaged flame which no person should feel,
The fire erupts into misery that inflicts torment.
While observing pessimism aired by the press,
Unethical blazes are injuring treaties of peace,
Forming disputes that lead to catastrophe.
If unity through acceptance is rectified,
Anguish will change into inspiring stability,
Designing humanity with civilized conditions.
Remember that your ancestors fought for liberty,
Dueling arson that vowed to eradicate civil rights,
We must realize concepts of war without immorality.
Aug 27, 2016
Aug 27, 2016 at 2:20 PM UTC
“We better just stop right now.”
the slogan of betrayal woven into a warning sign
but we are always too late to see it
as we crash past the red lights into the traffic of time
where mistakes cannot be rectified and problems cannot be solved
as the warning sign gets off one stop earlier than it should
and you are left on a one-way trip to nowhere
as you watch the stop sign crash into the front of the
Nov 7, 2019
Nov 7, 2019 at 9:14 PM UTC