Best Rectify Poems
I wore popular shin high white boots,
The top in rage of disco dancing queens.
The Bee Gees were the utmost in the clan
The alter of quantifying demeans.
Revolutionary, the stance we took,
The freedom of iconoclastic paths
To justify rebellious avenues
That swayed the truth in plain objective wraths.
Our music was the strength we built upon.
To satiate an inward longing for
An understanding from our wings of youth
To dwell upon that which we needed more;
Our voices to be heard above the din
Of righteous antiquated old ideals
To sway the right of multi-media
Into the light of deference that’s real.
To end the Viet Nam war was a quest
Of Yuppies and of Hippies, both agreed,
A war of no beginnings or endings
Should dissolve hate for races to succeed.
A bracelet worn to honor POW's
Those lost in war whose bodies never found,
Embraced the sorrows that remain today
Of those lost souls sore buried in the ground.
The seventies are burnt upon my mind.
In vivid dreams of nonconformist ways.
I dwell upon the heroes giving grace
To rectify the military maze.
3-1-18
I absolutely could not pare this down to the required
20 lines for the contest, so it cannot be an entry.
In the mirrors of Moirai
kismet and karma kiss adoringly,
unaware of this betrayal they label as life.
In the hallucination we call birth,
words whisper like bitter winds,
composing a metaphorical manuscript,
weaving a quilt of invisible inflictions.
Silent screams serenade in childhood bloodshed,
where no messiah arrived to rectify sins of saints -
so some languish among abandoned souls.
Modern monsters no longer hide beneath the bed,
they feast amongst our freshly prepared banquets.
In a fathomless pit, I'm slaying prosaic demons,
before indigo hues turn ebony -
who are they to destroy my dreams?
I never heard the birds sing
in a playground of lucid lullabies.
I still recall the ghosts of featherless angels,
swaying upon swings adorned in garlands of grief.
Their eternal spirits flickering in silver embers,
evolving into perpetual vessels of reflection.
Confused in a realm of revolving doors,
tarnished paths only withhold wrath,
leaving behind trails of trauma,
where twisted trials lead to disfigured destinies.
Glass hearts only break in battles with burdens,
so our spirits become victim to Medusa eyes.
When each sigh flows like a slow poison,
we search for virgin daffodil dawns,
as distractions to numb the pain.
Fatigued from the battles from
those who rebel against our hearts -
we seek solace from sojourners of invigoration.
Blessed are those who connect with universal harp strings.
Who merge with the sacred aura of music.
Who notice the stars before twilight,
comprehending the glory of sunrise,
as an analogy against adversity.
I was not designed to be a flower,
contained in a snow globe,
covered in ivory flakes when shaken.
I have forgiven the blameworthy,
who are guilty for chaining an inner child,
but I'm still waiting to break free.
Before I waste away and my thorns decay,
ordain upon me the fortune to cradle love -
let me flourish in the field where Rumi's roses bloom.
‘Anger is one letter short of danger.’
Excess of it, our life can endanger.
Anger when grown into aggression and violence,
Works in vicious ways and is a great malaise
It fosters hatred and ruptures many hearts,
Angry words can wound and pierce like darts.
But Anger becomes a sublime emotion,
If we know how to handle it without explosion.
It becomes sometimes so constructive,
Quashing the fallacy that anger at all costs is disruptive.
Many a time it has proved so positive.
And sometimes it turns very productive.
When anger is turned against situations
And not against people aiming at their degradation.
It enables us to rectify the discrepancies,
Through our resentment to change the disparities.
It fuels us with the energy to voice against injustice.
Bringing solutions to the voiceless in their crisis.
But never let anger consume your heart and soul.
It sure will take a mighty toll.
When anger bubbles and boils, catch the cue.
Wait a minute before the fire devours you.
As humans, we are likely to lose our temper.
But remember, to it, never surrender!
Holding a long-standing. grudge,
Is like having an unerasable smudge.
It will always leave a stain,
And lead us to irrepressible pain.
However, it is not advisable to suppress anger,
It can lead to irreparable danger.
But remember, when emotions of hatred are let loose,
There is hardly any chance for a truce.
A person under violent rage
Is like a prisoner in a cage.
Anger, more often is a negative emotion.
Landing us in violent commotion.
Anger against people steals all our energy,
But when it aims at solutions, it enhances synergy.
When angry, forgetting all decorum, one may shout.
Don’t let your resentment thoughtlessly blurt out.
Never let the tongue make a tempestuous tirade.
Tackle this tiny tab of tissue and tame its blade!
And I witness
Your deplorable “glory”
Hunching over my tattered spine,
So we can have something in common
You walk with glorified shell-shock,
Another sentient tongue,
Straddling on the Eros of vindication
Your sandpaper hands
Reach for an assaulted tenderness
Embracing lambasted lyric
Another tenor’s proclamation
That their oxidized octaves
Are legitimately sound
…
Nobody is listening.
…
So, you try to rectify your ill-erect
Compass
Only heading south
Bound
By meandering prophecies,
Unwritten
Undeclared
Just another pre-historic fool
Believing the Jamaican grass is greener on
The other side
Puff your corrupted beliefs
Toward laundered Benjamins
While I soak in the bloodied joy,
That I remain priceless
…
Approach me
While you suffer tiny warden syndrome
In High Definition
Be the insignificant syllable that
Becomes, you, a fragmented figment
Of your re-imagination
Call in your slobbering pinchers and
Convince them why dethroning my smile
Will be that change you conspire,
Because I stood taller than the arrogant
Umbilical c(h)ord that breastfeeds your high horse
For I am you
I am you
Every kick, every punch, every verbal attack
Every overcompensating, born-again glare
You blasphemously portray
But, it is not me you scar.
IT IS NOT ME THAT YOU SCAR!
…
Your one-night stand with perception
Succumbs your third-eye
Keep drinking from your bloodied, rustic w(h)ine glass,
As you drown in your declarations of dependence
Screaming to be louder than love
Louder than your ordained intentions
To become a speck of importance
To be worth something,
Something more,
Than the lunging foot you believe
Will keep me down
©D.J.E.
A swallow swoops for flitting flies
While Johnny rubs exhausted eyes
(As morning clasps the rising sun)
Confirming Captain’s day’s begun:
Slow streams emerge from melting snows -
The Merchant Ship’s in stark repose...
As Johnny frets with tingling tongue
A Vulture fleeces fields far-flung
(Beneath a bleeding sun above),
And Captain culls the dead with love:
Yes, while the silent water flows,
The Merchant Ship just gulps and grows...
A serpent weaves amongst the weeds
As Johnny dares audacious deeds
(When evening drains the dying day)
To stop the Captain, come what may:
And while the raging rivers grow
The Merchant Ship rocks to and fro...
An owl, a’ branch, has teacup eyes
That glimmer dark as Johnny dies
(Now sown inside the future’s womb)
When flushing Captain to his doom:
Trapped in titanic undertow
The Merchant Ship’s swept down below...
A fledgling bird sprays morning dew
As Johnny Junior’s born anew
(He’s baptised in the dawn ablaze)
To rectify the former days:
Raw rills arise from melting snow
And virgin rivers start to flow...
The possibility of making a dream come true it's what makes life interesting (Quote by Paulo Coelho)
Our elders say: one more day
to get up is one more day to enjoy.
One more day to get dressed,
to open the window
and watch the beauty around.
Another day of troubles to face,
to struggle, another big mountain to challenge.
A new page to read,
a new program to watch,
a new lesson to learn.
New steps to rehearse in the morning
for the the colossal performance at night.
A dream to fight to wake up all the senses.
Wonderful people you have to meet
makes you forget about
the wrong ones you've met.
What it is written,
sometimes can't be deleted,
but it's always a way to rectify
and start a better story.
Because I live,
I want to shout to the whole world
that I'm alive, that I want to fly.
Because I live,
I am a person that fights everyday with myself,
the monsters inside,
my concerns, my family, my friends, my job,
my what will be the next?
But I am alive,
that's much more that I can ask for.
Something that means
that I still can breath the air,
pulluted, but the one we have.
I can watch the ocean,
the sunsets and the new dawns.
Perhaps my life is not what I expected,
perhaps everything I'm living now
is not as far as I painted when I was starting.
But the years makes you go through unexpected
small roads, that one day
can become highways to run on.
Still young enough, deep inside,
to do many performances.
I choose not to act in the limelight,
but in the right stage
with the spotligh shining on me,
because I live,
and I want to be alive
for the next show to be played.
"Vote for me! My opponent is a liar and a thief! I will make a change and rectify all!
I will raise your standard of living, lower your taxes and we'll all have a ball!"
(Please read the disclaimer,
For this potential hall of famer)
Warning: electing this braggadocio person,
May cause the status quo to worsen.
Any claims made on this campaign tour,
Are not intended as a political cure.
Electing this person may cause temporary blindness,
Nervous stomach, diarrhea and a lack of kindness.
But people, pay no attention to this disclaimer note.,
Put your blinders on !! Get out there and vote!
-paid for by elect a slanderer for office committee:
CALIBER
The mental quality of spirits is unveiled.
Anne saw them in imagery.
They were in small shapes as a displayed mural.
A bust of lives demised with estate being conveyed as an inhabitant or the occupier.
Their capacity was that of full animation and stream.
Anne watched the mystical images that were once all men.
Their colors came as black, white, and olive.
Attuned to their surroundings, they did not alter their position on the wall.
They desire was to rectify a wrong.
Calibers are competent to their form in which Anne was not afraid of being forewarned.
Anne began to name them the ones that she saw.
The black one was called Magic because he was the leader of them all.
There were two level of white men seated by rows.
Anne named them Parchment because of their lab coats.
The olive one was called Mixed-Blood.
Stature they formed with ability to construct.
The degree of their mental capacity paraded the capability of the physical you being possessed.
Might they enter via an oval of the body?
They haunted this house to influence cognizance.
Anne’s knowledge is such that she may not be aware of their existence from where they exist.
Ignorance is the perception Anne lived in.
Anne and her family moved from this house in her seventh year.
She saw their presence first when she was four.
Once Anne and her family left, she did not see them anymore.
Anne moved on Briesch when she was an infant.
She never spoke of what she saw until she relocated.
Anne’s mother stated that a veil was over her eyes, a pall of despair trying to develop premonition.
Caliber is a degree of mental capacity or moral quality.
Anne cultivated this identity.
_________________________________________|
Penned February 17, 2014!
For Anne Currin Contest Any Poem/Any Subject!
Many journeys I have traveled, no doubt I will have many more,
all the twists, turns and pits falls in life, all the things I had to endure.
Coming to terms with my life, is by no means an easy feat,
this is the sole reason I write, it is to understand me.
In my words I can escape, from the harshness of reality that's always in my face,
the only place i'm safe, where I can truly be free, in this world there is only me.
Free from judgement, ridicule and shame, in this world no one knows my name,
a place to reflect and contemplate, a place to analyze, to rectify my mistakes.
Not all things broken can ever be fixed, so I turn to my writing for inspiration.
You'll soon come to see if you read what I write, every thing you'll read is about my life. You see i've have been my own teacher, no one has ever been by my side,
struggling to understand things has always been my plight.
I feel what I write and I write what I think, and yes sometimes it does come out raw,
but there's no escaping that reality, when that comes knocking at your door.
As my life unravels in front of your eyes, you'll will all see what I mean,
but hey... I know there are people out there that have it a lot harder then me.
This is the beginning of a new journey, something for my children to see,
when they hit pit falls in there life, they can always refer back to me.
Daddy's life on show for all to see, like I really care,
the more I start to talk about myself, the faster it is to heal.
Not everything in life is able to be handed down,
but words are forever, and forever they can be found.
For in this world when I've been out for the count,
my writing is the only thing that pulls me out.
I write to heal....
I write to hide....
I write to live.....
I write so I can survive.....
M.Mahauariki © 2012
continued from Pt 1
With my name underneath!/ I said "Who is keith?"/ She looked over her shoulder,/
The room got colder,/ When she harshly whispered "you!"/ That's when she rose from her
seat, and with her feet started using Kung-Fu./ Like she was a Kangaroo!/ She beat me
black and blue./ Then I heard her scream "That's for taking advantage of my virtue!/
When I finally came too, I was moist with dew./ I felt sick and prayed it was not swine
flu!/ I found a Doctor nearby./ He was also a Rabbi./ I had a lot of ails including pinkeye./
He cured me and took me into the "matrix" like on Sci-Fi./ He then taught me the ways of
the samurai!/ I was now ready, for with one hand I could catch a housefly!/ I adjusted my
necktie, and told the Rabbi goodbye./ I began my next journey under the blue sky./ Off
after that whore I must rectify!/
Note: for Constance La France contest "A Magical Journey" - If I offended anyone with this
piece I apologize It was written only to be morbidly humourous.....
NOTE: Had to alter for contest because of size. This is the actual way it ends. Jimmy
I know it's there
A ghostly vision
Waiting to jump out at me
Bones stripped bare with precision
This is the ghost of life past
My soul stripped bare
For all to see
Ready to jump out at me
My earthly sins revealed
The White lies I told
The love I can't conceal
To reveal, alas I am not that bold
Yes it waits, for me to despair
It waits, to remind me,
The past I can't repair
I wait for the dawn to rescue me
Dawn arrives the ghostly vision departs
Waving a stripped finger
Reminding me to put things right
I nod my head, it no longer lingers.
I can now turn the corner of life
To rectify my wrongs
To smile and maybe love anew
To live not just exist, once more sing songs
penned 13/10/2014
Mapping my final ride to the other side
Oh how I want to feel like I have arrived
Seeing so many good reasons why I have survived
Like I have climbed the highest mountain totally revived
Believing in myself knowing I will not be denied
Dreaming of my God that makes me so satisfied
Doing what I had to do so I didn't collide
With the love waiting on the other side
Only God gets to decide
Who gets to go on this amazing ride
Enjoying going to heaven where God resides
Feeling like I belong rested very much alive
Applying myself being careful not to divide
My faith that makes it all so personalized
With his wisdom and understanding he provides
His truth in the bible makes us unified
Oh how I want to make sure I realize
Jesus was tried and crucified
Giving up his life so we would be supplied
With a way, we can be revived
When Satan only promises genocide
Disguised as some better kind of high
That leaves us completely horrified
Making Gods plan justified
Mankind needs to open his eyes to unwind
How much he needs to live in our minds
Only God knows what happens when we die
Bringing his divine harmony
So when Jesus returns to rectify
What Satan tried so hard to nullify
Knowing that I won't be left behind
Believing I didn't live my life blind
To the truth that gives us passage to heaven
Where my soul can reign on high
Knowing or lord and master would never lie
About what will happen if we except him eye to eye
What Life's Treasures And Sweet Gems Should Be
Life's gems should be,
more than anxiety, sad sorrows, cryptic words
Man existing should be,
more than blind, slavish-chained beasts in huge city herds.
Living life true and well should be,
more than polluted waters and stale daily bread
Resplendent joyous Life and Love should be,
family happiness greater than life's great dread.
True Peace, Tranquility and Hope should be,
home and hearth, warm winter fires, children playing
Growing old, having treasured memories should be,
time on earth well spent, no prayers for overstaying.
Robert J. Lindley,
Rhyme (4,6,8,10,12), (Math, Rhyme, Poetry And What Schools Should Teach Our Children)
Syllables Per Line: 4 12 6 12 0 8 12 10 12 0 10 12 12 12
Total # Syllables: 122
Total # Words: 84
Note - Ok my dear friend, this has been presented as you requested, forgive
my lapse in memory. I had forgotten and have now moved it to be posted here
ahead of another poem but I always keep my word- especially when reminded
if I forget! Thank you for the email this morn, I am lucky I actually checked my email.
To my other dear friend, I shall post the poem you've gave great and precious advice on and have edited for me, as soon as possible(this coming week). I must apologize to you as this one was a few weeks overdue and I had to rectify my mistake. God bless, you both, I am blessed to have such wonderful and sincere friends!
Life is full of many important decisions my son
Each decision is a step closer to your future
Every step could lead in many directions, as a man, you must choose one
Do not decide your path on others convictions, examine your own beliefs first
There is nothing worst than betraying ones self; consequences are grave, believe me son, it hurts
Walk the path that you choose; sometimes the path gets a little rough and very steep
Be mindful and learn from all setbacks, this builds character; for all our actions we must reap
Stay focused on your prize, remain smart and be aggressive in your endeavors
Remain humble but celebrate your accomplishments; those memories will last forever
Continue to set and achieve goals; do not become content with the present
Contention precipitates laziness, your hunger is subdued and eventually severed
Become a strong, positive, productive and an intellectual man
Set the example for your children; this will be a difficult task but do the best you can
Mistakes are common in life son; be responsible and rectify each and every situation
Lord willing, I am preempting one, by maintaining father and son communication
An unusual thing occurred at our house Christmas Eve.
It caused us anger, it was enough to make us grieve.
We waited to the last minute for a live Christmas tree:
A brimful tree of precise size, with perfect symmetry.
On Christmas Eve, we pulled it inside the house to trim.
As we tugged it through, we discovered something grim.
Although the tree was green, it was dead as a doornail.
As we carried it in, pine needles rained down like hail.
It was too late to find another tree, the problem to rectify.
“We can’t have Christmas without a tree,” I wanted to cry.
Long gone the days to trek into woods & chop one down.
I wanted to stomp my foot, I wanted someone to crown.
Not only was there no tree, we vacuumed piles of needles.
“Honey, we need an artificial Christmas tree,” I wheedled.
‘After Christmas sales,’ afforded us a great opportunity.
Now, I can decorate the tree each year, with impunity.
No worry about limbs drooping, no watering to do. I
like the convenience. I like the look of it too. After
all,
it’s
not
the tree
that counts,
it’s what’s under it.
Don’t you agree?