"refocus" poems
Usually
Invisibility is something you see
On a TV
Ironically
But the truth of the matter
Is that if you look at her
Sitting there quietly
Just watching society
Carry on with it's creation
Not joining the conversation
You may notice
You need to refocus
To make visible
Those things that are not
May 19, 2016
May 19, 2016 at 10:48 PM UTC
What’s more important, a gun or a life,
a religion, belief, or a child?
Our focus is lost, on extremes that have cost,
us the lives of the many defiled.
Weapons, religion, and money, we’ve made,
give us power to help or defend.
But the weapons we’ve made, and the choices they gave,
became blood of the many that died.
Religions of earth still dividing our world,
were created for souls to be fed.
And money and gold, here to help, we’ve been told,
made us greedy and haughty instead.
We forget that mankind is much greater than these,
calling us to refocus our hearts.
For these can be solved with one law you recall,
that encompasses all of mankind.
Mankind: our brother, our sister, our mother,
remember, that we all are one.
Let me ask this again, what’s important to men:
a child, a belief or a gun?
Mar 18, 2018
Mar 18, 2018 at 7:14 PM UTC
There're times that I ended up conmparing myself to others
I tried to refocus my life to where their eyes were
I tried to reason out to God what my desires are
And even tried to ran away from the Great Commission.
No one could ever tell you that you are called by God,
It is God Himself who can call you out
For you to surrender, it was God's movement to tap you.
I realized how blessed I am,
Of course, there're always situations that binds my eyes
But the worldy desires do not satisfy my inner soul.
Indeed, I am blessed
To have Jesus accepted in my heart
And I know that my faith in him is authentic.
God has blessed us with wonderful things
And Satan has stolen our identity in Christ
He became jealous of how God wants to make us
With His very own image.
My life is different, not because I am unique
But because God is with me
Yes, I do fail; it's a guarantee
But God never sees me as failure, but a victor!
It was a random thought,
But it's not a misery at all
I know God is in control.
Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 8:53 AM UTC
-
I’ve been walking this long hallway
for over a year
Reading the gilded framed
poems lining the walls,
verse after verse of
beautifully written words
I have made some good
friends along the way
Met some wonderful poets
who I have learned from
as well as learned to respect
and admire (watching far too many leave)
these meetings I will cherish
I have also crossed paths with a few
who didn’t care for me all that much,
hated my dreadful reviews, (blocked me for that)
misundertood my attempts at humor
or didn't appreciate the love poetry
I tried to slip in amongst the fighting,
but that’s okay, it takes all kinds
I've counted the masks worn,
there are more than two reasons
aren't there?
Some smiling, some not,
all there for their own reasons,
which it is not for me to judge
or anyone else, though that doesn't
seem to stop it from happening
Still little by little I have
headed towards a faint light
The soft glow at the far end
of this prose tiled floor
Each day the light became
a bit stronger, brighter
That tiny glowing square
in the distance
bigger and bigger
My shadow leading or following,
longer or shorter
depending on if I walk facing
forwards or backwards,
hop scotching over the hate,
sneaking past the accusations,
hiding from trolls (he found me anyway)
and the finger pointed whining,
hoping to pass go,
(you can keep the two hundred)
All the while sadly realizing
I am slowly becoming
smaller and smaller,
barely visible to others here
Disappearing a little more
with each passing day
Till now I am nothing more
than a forgotten minute speck
at the furthest end
of this meandering corridor
An insignificant silhouette
of a poet who once was,
now slowly fading
out through the opening
to stand in the bright sunlight
And as I refocus my eyes
to my new surroundings
I turn to wave goodbye
to what I so enjoyed
only to see a sign that reads…
“Thanks for visiting Hellopoetry, whoever the hell you were”
Jan 4, 2016
Jan 4, 2016 at 7:09 PM UTC
It's such a different perspective to see her self-hatred outdoes my own. She's a brilliant, dying star. Vacuuming away all the evil in her, siphoning it through her throat. Flush it down. Pulling apart her bones from the inside out. I can understand that.
I've been thinking offhandedly, not on purpose. Take a deep breath, look up at the clouded sky. The blown, restless leaves endlessly remind me of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. Let my mind go blank. Refocus, come back down from wherever I went, finding I've been working questions over while unaware. Autopilot likes to steer toward the ground. I've been thinking offhandedly, not on purpose, of the best way to say goodbye.
I've been dreaming of writing this down all morning, all night. Who's to say I haven't been anxiously awaiting this all my life? To tell you what it's like to hate yourself so much that others become mere blips on the radar; still there, but so unrecognizable. I become unreachable. I've been dreaming of opening myself up, seeing all the things that are tucked inside, away from my reach. They all tell me not to go looking for trouble, but hell, how could it possibly get worse? I'm curious.
Lying here loathing myself for being so pitiful. So pathetic. Part of me knows I am wallowing, stewing, dwelling. The other part knows what they don't: there is nothing of worth here. Take it all away, no more trying. Drop my cards on the wood between my elbows, stand & take my leave. You guys can split my poker chips. It'll be so...so lovely...not waking up to the bleak, the empty. Not to have to face myself in the mirror, with my troubled eyebrows & worried lips & the nervous twitch of my mouth that wasn't there a month ago. Not to wake up to every 'can't'. Not to stare into my own blank, listless eyes; numb. So mortified of myself, miserable with me, yet so distant, removed, disinterested, distracted.
Please don't be upset if I think of you before I go. Understand that just because I want to die doesn't necessarily mean I want to leave you. Don't count this one last sin; dreaming of my fingertips memorizing the contours of your face, kissing your eyelids, your cheeks, your mouth, your neck, hands, tears. Breathe in the scent of you. Maybe you could give me some courage to hold onto as I let go. Don't penalize me for this, please. Let me live in how much I love you one last time. I'm sorry this hurts you.
I just figured out how to say goodbye.
Aug 25, 2013
Aug 25, 2013 at 1:02 AM UTC
saw his mother
while they buried him. her hair
--with sorrow as flint--
smoked and caught fire. the world began to
cave in up and around the swollen fist of regret that punched
through my stomach --the fire spread--
speared my gut with blame.
all the while
a cacophony
of strings and trumpets
cried parting and
a soul flew
on golden banners
towards heaven
those stone white graffitied gates.
--the fire grew too much to handle--
in agony I flailed and screamed.
rolled down tall mountains clawing at bone and dirt
and flesh. gilded chariots breaking free. shepherding the beautiful
from the leperous, riddled atrophy that controls the living.
the dying and the burning. how everything burns
dies. fire smoke guilt regret. oh sweet death.
death in the summertime. death in the
morning, the evening, death of
everything. always.
eyes open
--a crisp, cluttered autumn hillside--
fall back upon his mother
reality stricken and grave.
blink twice. refocus.
a tear falls from her face
followed by
one from
mine.
the fire is out.
Feb 27, 2013
Feb 27, 2013 at 7:15 PM UTC
I am the rain you are the flower.
My sun, are the thoughts that gave you your power.
You reached for the stars and pedaled much harder.
Fixating on your own flower makes you lose sight, our origin same planet.
Conditioned to only love your own kind.
What ego, refocus on what matters.
Cultivate integrity, flourish then gather.
Our beliefs are not ours, they're captured in moments, in hours.
Discipline and take control of your 24 hours.
But who am I to tell you that’s foolish, that’s madder.
My empathy sees you have to conform to the fish bowl that’s hard, can’t shatter.
Just like the dreams, I dream they don’t break, gray matter.
My vision expanded and shut out the chatter.
Comprehend the same things that unite, segregate.
Meditate, create space and gravitate.
Coexistence is all that there is.
I have sight I’m not blind to the prescribed consensus.
Need I mention all these misconceptions?
Illusions placed to distract and deceive.
Dogma, a human construct a pattern we feed.
These connections run deep, these roots are from Saturn.
This gift of space and time gave us, one ocean, one planet.
Treat it as such and radiate peace and love before… you all vanish.
The greater good.
My mission, my passion, my… mind over matter.
Aug 11, 2017
Aug 11, 2017 at 8:17 PM UTC
flossing jocks swing mighty
***** crow blowing triumphant
incumbents sent to extend the morality
vitality reality equals fallacies and tribulation
recreation station seething with malcontents grossly exaggerate
the aggregate to depreciate the innate greatness of iced milk and cherries
varying fairies trailing mankind grind to different beats
seated meat sacks lack tact and force ill-mannered children
to render hate venders with crayons
yawning chasms plastered with plasma and grass clippings
flipping chihuahuas slipping in to the dark
bouncing ta-ta’s, beer-soaked and tightly clad
refocus the mass passing by
flying low with bellies plastic filled
pelicans land softly on quiet mountain lakes to breed in peace
Jul 8, 2014
Jul 8, 2014 at 2:16 PM UTC
juice box and soda pop
and post modern electronic rock
and
all these various things
ringing
through the halls of my dreams
where the memories
they slip and stack
and some come forth
and some push back but
in the end they'll return
for just,
one last look and I'll learn
about
all the things i never knew
were part of who i felt was true
i'll,
fin'lly see for myself
all these,
thoughts i've left on the shelf
like the
juice box and soda pop
and post modern electronic rock
and
all these various things
ringing
through the halls of my dreams
but as
nostalgia loses its grip
and memories begin to slip
back
to where they reside
buried
deep down and inside
my mind
will refocus on the now
and point forward
deciding how to
carry on with my days
find my
way through maze after maze
and at
days end when I lay to rest
i almost always feel my best
when
i return to my mind
free to
take whatever i find
and its
only in my dreams i feel
that maybe afterall i'm real
and
descartes would agree
if i
said i think i was me
back to
juice box and soda pop
juice box and soda pop
juice box and soda
pop
Jun 20, 2010
Jun 20, 2010 at 3:20 PM UTC
Three by three frame,
Intrigue, perception,
Metaphoric imagination.
A moonlit seaside,
waves crash upon the shore.
The tide,
guided
ruled
The beauty of the ocean,
admired from above.
Focus, Refocus
A shadowy landscape,
tall trees canopy the scene.
Blanketed
darkness
mystery
The still of the woods,
felt from inside.
Focus, Refocus
A dark speckled sky,
wishes and hopes twinkle and shimmer.
Illuminated
painted
brightly
The magic of a starlit night,
loved and feared.
May 24, 2017
May 24, 2017 at 9:50 AM UTC
Envision the acceleration
Of your heart and mind
As the truth is delivered
Upon you, replacing
Your salvation with a
Glimmer of thought
To inspire you to
Reimagine an existence
Without the excess of a god.
Time, energy, and motion
Becoming interwoven as you
Refocus on a new existence
Where you don't *******
Squander away your time
Worshipping false idols
Warning you against
Worshipping false idols.
When armed with a thought,
The creation of a
Revised world isn't
Such a foreign concept,
But an attainable reality.
Strive for a redefinition
Of the corrupt system
For in action, change
Can be forced on
The unwilling establishment.
Abandon the petty squabbles,
Brother against brother
Over an imagined salvation
Leading only to extermination.
Realign your thought process
And adjust to a world where
Brother allied with brother
Fight for the freedom
From class division,
From monetary idealism,
And from religious ideology
Picture an existence
Where we no longer divide
But combine to form
A unification
Of revolution.
Jan 25, 2013
Jan 25, 2013 at 12:45 AM UTC
Summer loving
Ice cream shovings
into dripping mouths;
a melting cavern,
chocolate pools bubbling
under tongues suppressing
mundane topics
let's get a little gay
take off my top and
lay on top of me
**** the chills
with your bikini thrills
refocus your scope sur moi
basket case weaving
message receiving
southern comfort relieving
excavated sediment
sentiments circulate
agreements perpetuate
a consistent blend
of froth and forthcomings
remember to remember
one's habitual shortcomings
Jul 15, 2014
Jul 15, 2014 at 8:19 PM UTC
Childhood years full of green grass
A little girl free of care, full of spirit
The mirror was forigen to her gaze
Middle school girl feels abit queer
She found her body to be changing
She feels the mirror’s light stare
High school girl is made of glass
Body stuck in a delusional freeze frame
Everyday she tries to hide what the mirror dreadfully enhances in her eyes
Bathroom visit to throw up her enemy
Gym routines that can't ever be missed
Troubled truly by her magnified flaws
Last summer at home spent in bed
Hospitalized from the demon she let in
Her heart grows so weak, she'd be dead by next week
She breaks all the mirrors that messed with her head
She eats her first meal praying it will stay
She enters her college revivied and refocus on books not just body looks.
Girls you are all beautiful no matter your size.
Jan 28, 2015
Jan 28, 2015 at 11:20 PM UTC
We usually say
"step into the light"
when there's
nothing but night;
But do we say
"step into the night"
when the light
is so bright
that it not only blinds
but burns out our eyes?
When extremist's
play their games
to blind our
sensitive eyes,
it doesn't matter
if they're using
darkness or light.
It's all the same
if you're snowblind
or just left alone
in the dark.
Whether it's
viral or bacterial
it's still an infection.
Feeling our way
in the heavy black air,
too thick to breathe.
Fumbling around
in the light gray air
too thin to breathe.
Caught in the loop of
groping the walls of our
minds in twilight.
Struggling to refocus
in moonlight.
Then so exhausted
by daybreak
that we sleep it all off
until dusk.
Too much darkness
Too much light
Too much cold
Too much heat
Too much pleasure
Too much pain
Too much sunshine
Too much rain
You can have too little
or too much of anything.
Jan 21, 2025
Jan 21, 2025 at 8:21 AM UTC
I always wondered how I could get so broken
You never listened to the words that were spoken
Telling me I'm the one but why was I chosen?
You admired me but not my devotion
I don't understand how I got so open
For you to act right, that's what I was hoping
But every time you ****** up and I exploded
I got so angry and started spillin' my raw emotion
Played and used like a token
All the love I gave you, I'm revoking
This poem I'm loathing
**** I need to get back focused
Jan 23, 2017
Jan 23, 2017 at 4:41 PM UTC
i first felt confused.
everything seemed to slip between my fingers
were they even my fingers?
now i was completely terrified.
this sense that everything was foreign like i've never seen these surrounding in my entire lifetime.
i didn't
couldn't feel myself.
my
it
those fingers.
i saw them move as fingers do, but they didn't seem like my hands, my fingers, my flushed palms.
it felt surreal.
even the people i knew seemed unknown to my eyes.
it gave me this churn in my stomach.
a churn that screamed "danger".
but why?
don't i know these people?
i should know how they act
how they talk
how they walk
how they move.
but when i saw them talk
when i studied how their lips formed around words
i heard nothing.
there was no familiarity in their voice and the words they spoke from their mind to their tongues.
it sounded
like static.
like white noise.
the nothingness that's heard in a room of complete silence.
i felt like white noise.
that fuzziness; the pins and needles kind when you haven't moved in hours.
i could've brushed it off.
maybe tried to refocus my brain into thinking that
"yes. all of this is familiar. don't be so dumb."
but i couldn't.
all i felt was bile in my throat as i internalized my imminent panic.
it was settling there in the pit of my stomach all because
i couldn't recognize my own voice.
i couldn't recognize their faces.
i couldn't recognize where i was nor could i recognize why i was there in the first place.
what was my purpose?
why do i wake up, go to school, come home, sleep.
why do i do these things that give me little to no substance in my life?
this regular schedule
of constance.
that's what caused this white noise.
the white noise that pressed anxiety and stress into my chest
making it heavier
making it harder to breath
making it worse.
i hated it.
but i couldn't do anything about it.
this white noise.
oh, how much i despised the thing.
but
all i can do is revel in the moment until it passes.
Apr 26, 2018
Apr 26, 2018 at 10:13 PM UTC
Dreams are like suitcases going through the baggage check, heavy and
easily lost. "We traded in our princes for frogs", a drunk woman says
hanging off her stool as she slowly drowns herself with cheap tequila
and ***** softly on a lime. I pretend not to hear her, I refocus my eyes
on the sports game and swallow an ocean of tears.
I touch him every night like I'm a flame, soft and hot- I turn
over the equator and the continents hiding in our sofa cushions.
I reach out for his arms like bands of steel keeping all my rioting
colors and shapes inside of me.
"We are at a very progressive time", they say on the news, I flip
through more news media articles about the economy, America's
bowed out again early. "For our generation", I tell them, "there is no
after party", and no one listens. There is someone playing the piano
near the bar and I'm hoping to never hear from Billy Joel again.
He comes home, his shoulders like rows strumming me through
the cold, quiet galaxy- and for that moment, I am not American,
or female or any social media label-
I am human and alive, and I'm beating down every door
until my suitcases are given back to me- empty or not.
Jan 16, 2014
Jan 16, 2014 at 12:44 PM UTC
I enveloped the strange emotions which we ping as I eclipsed
your world and bid a tearless goodbye but I tanked
Yet I tattooed the pig on the green line
engulfed in diamonds
and drained
by your glorious throne
I pitched the ****** nightingales
a simple truce
feeling blackened with scars
burning in an ocean of salted
lies piped in the shame
of your venom
as I caked
I whispered
ocypus
I prayed to a bloodied red sky while purple with fear
I ran to the bed of the river where I tanked
seeing your soul floating about
I drained the rain as I pinned your
ghost to the wall
He raked your existence with a ding
crossed the road to burn
his ashes and they danced about
inheriting a swiped out
throne
the salt in your tongue
rotting with bitter
I warned you about the
snakes in the bed and the wolf
in the closet
biting off the head of the
lamb
I carried on without you over in my dreams and dropped
all manner of myself by the hint of a storm
fragile
peeling off the layers I sigh
dogged by the gloom
and wheat in your rye
I refocus
flaked in scars
and battles
I am boiled in anger
cracked with laughter
I am beset while enjoying me
a white russian
Jul 23, 2013
Jul 23, 2013 at 2:49 AM UTC
My skin peels
and in the places reborn
I apply products that charge me for beauty and self-esteem.
This isn't really what I need.
My skin peels
the salicylic acid burns my flesh,
but it whispers, “I am not the pains
of my father,”
and I believe it.
I stand in the mirror
and lock eyes to skin.
You are not the pains of your father.
You are not the pains of your father.
My eyes refocus, and I realize
I've been talking to myself again.
My skin peels,
and in the places reborn
what's underneath is revealed:
Raw flesh and parental issues.
When will my showers clean me instead?
Apr 30, 2019
Apr 30, 2019 at 10:10 PM UTC
Sometimes I find that my way is unclear
Life goes so fast it’s hard to stay near
To the goals I intended to be my life’s focus
My life seems tied up in what seems to be pointless
Clarity, vision … I must make some decisions
To line up my life to what I initially envisioned
The years, months and days so quickly fade away
There’s no button in life that is labeled replay
Time is a gauge that reminds me to remember
To grab all I can in life's great adventure.
Jun 18, 2012
Jun 18, 2012 at 10:31 PM UTC
i got this picture in my head ,
a dark labyrinth blue,
faces in the crowd,
but wait, then it's just you,
i see my silver erector set,
i can build you buildings when it's bright,
i see the leaves falling down, it's autumn out tonight...
i can see the sandy beaches,
and the line i drew in the sand,
though that was many years ago,
you still tell me to take your hand,
i see it all a little clearer tonight, than i did before,
but i was a ****** back then,
and i always wanted you more,
as the painting of the picture gets clearer in my mind,
i try to refocus on little things i left behind,
like the time way back in my mind,
when I thought the world was cool,
seventeen and full of everything but you,
I think I can smell your perfume now, are you walking in the door,
mom I really miss you now, much more than I have before,
little things like just talking to you,
you busting me when I was ******
how you always told me I was going to be something great,
now you've left me on my own....
I wish you were here to push me **** it,
I'm all dried up inside,
no motivation to do anything except maybe write.....
I feel I have to leave this place where the autumns chill my heart,
leave the memories of you and make a new head start,
build a fictional past with my new beginnings,
and forget all that I've gone through,
but there's not a chance,
not even a maybe,
that I'm going to forget you.
I miss you momma.
Aug 11, 2010
Aug 11, 2010 at 9:57 PM UTC
When someone is antagonising
my joy and happiness,
I do my best
to remain calm and unperturbed,
and refocus my mind
on calmly striving to achieve
my joy and happiness.
Aug 8, 2019
Aug 8, 2019 at 6:51 AM UTC
I put on my glasses to
refocus my vision,
but I realize it is my distracted mind
that hinders me,
work documents transposed with your face,
my mouth still filled with your taste,
your body still bruised into me and
your skin still stuck to my fingernails;
my body aches for your touch,
my ears yearn for the feeling of your teeth,
my mouth hungry for your lips;
my eyes stare blankly at my computer monitors as
my brain remains transfixed on the way
we intertwine and
how you make my limbs shake;
I'm not sure my boss will understand
that 8 hours a day has gone by,
and all I have managed to accomplish is
the perpetual fantasizing of the way you make me sweat,
the way you take away my breath,
how you disassemble me.
May 17, 2016
May 17, 2016 at 12:25 PM UTC
Grab your supplies,
two needles, six alcohol pads and
the Wonder Woman bandaids you bought
to feel brave.
Remind yourself to buy a box for mom
next time you supermarket shop.
Curse under your breath,
its left thigh week and
you know the left thigh really hates T
Message your group chat,
Ask them to pump you up
so you can ignore needle induced palpitations—
are my ribs caging my heart or protecting it?
Refocus yourself; now is not the time
for existential thoughts
Fill the syringe with the eighteen gauge,
and then drop that sucker into
the ancient bottle of vanilla coke
filled with used needles.
Change to the twenty-five gauge,
refresh your music page.
Is it a Queen or All Time Low shot day?
Wipe your leg down,
not once, not thrice,
but five times—
As you stare between the needle,
your thigh, your needle, and again
the thigh.
Count to three,
One,
Two,
Three,
and in it goes,
not so bad—it never is.
Repeat every Sunday.
Feb 12, 2019
Feb 12, 2019 at 6:23 PM UTC