Misaligned Poems | Examples

Earth Star Chakra

earth star chakra my killick, subliminal subpersonal connects me to core of planet’s centre, spinning yet rooted in quiet mirth
absorbing misaligned energy in sturdy girth
intuits heartfelt frequency exchanges 
across planetary consciousness gauges
below Gaia’s benign surfaces it modulates
where own wisdomed faith undulates 
steady Will humming stable solid secure 
no other anchor would I endure

awareness finely tuned filamented fibres
reaches far flung corners shadowed or
light, without single flinch fight or flight 
authority with divine responsibility dear
centring my substance as an emperor does
holding disciplined foresight unseen safe
signals settled velocities where I am to walk 
intentions sure of next waiting chorded port
underground star exuding strength, cohort 
of ages, missioning goals it never aborts

Why are we here

in a single word: desire
objects for which we aspire
this is the cause of rebirth
that’s why we are here on earth

now, we are not body-mind
we are spirit misaligned 
with the truth impulse of God
known when we give love our nod

shifting into the vast void
we’re not then by thoughts decoyed
whence breaking down every wall
one with God, we are the all

His 9 was my 6

You said I never tried enough,
But I thought showing up was love.
I held your hand through quiet storms,
But never knew how deep they cut.

You wanted words —
I gave you time.
You wanted truth —
I gave you signs.
You asked for more than I could name,
And all I gave felt just… the same.

I saw your tears, I heard your cries,
But all I did was memorize
The way your anger masked your ache —
I thought, “She’s mad. I’ll give her space.”

I didn’t read between your lines.
I thought we’d heal with passing time.
But silence grew where warmth had been,
And now I hear you… in your pen.

The book you wrote — it speaks of me.
A ghost of what I tried to be.
You say I vanished, broke your heart…
But darling, I was torn apart.

I wasn’t right, I wasn’t kind —
But I was scared and misaligned.
And when you said you'd tell them all,
I built a wall. I let us fall.

You called it love. I called it pain.
Two hearts that broke beneath the strain.
We both were right in our own way —
But I regret I walked away.

Dysmorphed

I, looking in the mirror yesterday,
witnessed distorted eyes replacing mine;
and, too, the lips and nose, as if a sign,
seemed bent crooked, misaligned in some way.

And, as I, squinting, gazed on that display,
an unheeding hand groped at the outline
of the coldly reflective glass confine.
I watched it slowly mangle the red-clay

body which, lifeless, answered my dead stare.
Tearing tripe from  stomach, and from breast
the heart, those fingers worked maliciously,
dismembering each inch of skin less fair.—
I know not who it was who flayed my chest: 
I? or that demon called Society?

Syntax for the Second Self

This body holds two of me—
the wild one,
and the one who pays for it.

I pack every want
into the shape of a pen,
but from a distance
ink looks more machine than magic.
Those who glance
only see gears,
not the slowing rhythm
or the misaligned clockwork
of a heart worn thin.

Even my hands
grow tired of reaching.
Now they lie still—
doormat deities
waiting at the edge
of your scattered attention.

Peripheral

I watched the porch lights flicker on for them—
the laughter soft, the timing always right.
The chairs were full. I hovered at the stem
of every plan, then vanished with the night.
A window cracked, a voice that called too late,
a message read, replied to days behind.
No slammed door, just a pattern I could trace—
how even warmth turns cruel when misaligned.
I asked for little. Always just enough
to be let in. To pull a corner seat.
But glow is not the same as being loved.
And unaddressed omissions aren't discreet.

I stayed outside until I felt the chill—
no hate, no love, just quiet, quiet, kill.

Drift

baby ghost
wrinkles the river

I gaze 
at its drowsiness
as I masticate 
on the meanings of why
because inside me is misaligned 

and its cold, sleepy eye 
- cautionless -
shall twitch
like visible white noise 
when TV boxes snap

neither shoals
nor skipping stones 
breaches the facade of a conspiratory sea

river rattles 
'cause it's my baby's ghost:
The Deer Hunter 
picked her blossom
tending his garden
of wicked passion
for crooked lotuses 
laying dead
     afloat

So You

It stays holstered
The hate that I carry
But its never out of reach

I heard your voice from a window
And I imagined you falling out
Spilling over the concrete
Misaligned and stupid

That's so you

The Unmoored Ship

The Unmoored Ship

I waltz through the ship,
Yet not dancing like the eerie drizzle in my mind,
While footprints dissolve into the quiet embrace of the deck.

The laborers pace back and forth,
Hauling their burdens—
Just like me, struggling to steady my steps,
Misaligned with my thoughts.

I beg the tranquil wind
Not to whisper my prophecy to the sky,
But the sky knows—
My heart is rumbling, just like the restless waves below,
Ready to make the ship quiver with an untold feeling.

Just as I thought this feeling would fade,
At the edge of the deck, I saw a beautiful stranger lit from within,
Glowing through every inch of the deck,
Piercing my heart on the verge of darkness.

The way the rainbow shimmered in his eyes
Made me realize—
I wanted to love my life again.

No uncertain terms -Simply confounding-

Harsh asymmetrical contour following dislocated noncontextual departure.
Roaming, haphazardly choreographed with precise misaligned determination.
Mindfully staggering indistinguishable purpose, consistently in linear circumnavigation.
A matter of process, a state of perpetual traversal, saves from permanence.
The ad infinitum of specificity is quantum, the superposition allowing consistent continuity while indelibly transposing by observance. 
Redundant to its operation, yet necessary in its function. 
Leaving spaces unfiled by way of impetus, whilst evidently consiquential. 
Paradoxically self referential, pertinently inescapable ever presence.

Quandary

     This sentience where mortal notions dwell
may hide the moral goodness stowed within,
‘tis but a quandary choosing which to quell
when weighing what would qualify as sin.
      The mortal mind may lend to tepid thought
when contemplating ending all mankind.
But deep within, the moral mind though fraught
with doubt, still bends to premise misaligned.
     For neither goodness nor for evil’s sake
does death consider scruples in its quest.
It thus, depends upon what lies at stake
that puts our mortal morals to the test.
     Though rationale attempts to find its place,
        this paradox may end the human race.


notes from Oppenheimer

CALAMITY

I didn't compare 
Neither did I compete 
I'm always in my lane
Yet they're always against me
Steadily plotting my ruin
Just to humiliate and rule over me.

Steadily, they attack 
My self confidence 
Trying to tame or break me
Steadily them be bullying 
Giving me all sort of names
Trying to shame me
They ain't my maker
So I'm unshakeable and unbreakable.

My mistakes
Their empowerment 
They all act like they're perfect 
Steadily discriminating me
Causing calamity in our country 
Ruining our unity 
Forgetting United we stand
They mislive and misaligned 
Just for instant gratification and selfish goals.

Practicing the pause

resting endowed functionality
as bestowed by the universe
a stirring yet arises in the heart
to emote a melodious verse

humming pulse of innate aliveness 
cajoles us to dance on life’s stage
we pause awhile in the bardo
where fires of lust and desire rage

pristine presence looks at the ego
amazed at how big it has grown
it’s misaligned with the call of soul
so the times’ now to park the drone

free from the fetters of lower mind
soul’s auric field begins to increase
renewing its vibrance within itself
ushering a glow of ineffable peace 

the Ferris wheel of mind yet rotates
owing to past momentum in motion
standing on firm ground we look on
nonchalant to the ongoing commotion 

at the pause of polarity interchange 
the hum of bliss is heard in the void
slowing down therein without cause
we reclaim the light of Self unalloyed

The morning after

a long awaited milestone is finally reached 
the mood of the moment is exultant
yet to whom do such emotions arise
when we know in truth there is no one here

as both vibrantly joyous yet also nonchalant 
we reflect on the blood path that brought us here
of how when misaligned from vibrations of love
the wounds inflicted and borne now seem dreamlike 

what was accomplished and what cost dear souls
did all the players emerge with their auras glistening
does bitterness yet linger in the aftermath of battle
or have we risen vibrationally radiating love and light

All Over

Talked Over:
Unappealing,
non-vocal,
nearly invisible

Looked Over:
Too young,
too old,
too short

Passed Over:
Avoided,
Unconnected,
ignored

Crossed Over:
Misaligned,
marked off

Worked Over:
No longer desired,
Over utilized

061024PS

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