Hop a train
steam far away
from the zig jagged insane.
Dream far, far away from the media blitz
the mass hysteria
that devilish jab
the mask hysteria
of pure delirium.
billions to be raked in
from
the jab
the kits
the masks
the disinfectants
one-way hospital stays.
Gates
wants to jab us to death
force us to eat his shriveled meat
In so many words, he wants to cull the herd.
Gates
is blotting out the sun
thinning our bones
slowly turning us to dust.
Hells Gates
has stage 4 God complex
but God never sported an STD.
Hop a train to a faraway place.
Stepping away from the insane.
Rubbing elbows with the homeless and hobo.
AT least they're real.
Gather and recalibrate a lost spirit.
Meditate, go deep underground.
Into the twin mirror of self and selfless.
Slide away from their plastic charms.
Sliding away from all of them.
Becoming like an earthworm.
It happened..To happen, its perhaps how best to explain.? Dietrich wrote about some ' tators.' In the footles vein, i hope its
Plain.? I then made a comment.' On another slang name known.' Causing her to recalibrate..Too taters..
Ler it be shown.' So
Now it seems there is a standerd..On how to mis-pronounce.? Will we influence the Mirriam-Webster.? Might they weigh the terms, just like the pound or ounce ? So it
Seems we've achieved the improbable.' Where, a slang word is reccognized.' Will we end up in Paris to receive a sorbonne
Prize.? The possibility's seem endless.'
When you try this out for size.' Even
though post-eriors must
take up the sacks
if
We stay low, and this stock sells.' Though
Thats not
My point, its just interesting, to be part of lifes flow )
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A single ant, black as charred bark,
parts the silver skin of the puddle~
its legs dimple the water,
each step a tremble of tiny ripples.
The leaf, wide as two ants side by side,
rides its back like a ship’s wrecked sail,
tipping with the weight
of a world too large to name.
Legs piston through water,
dark and wide, a sea to him,
with this leaf, his bride.
Each step is a tremor in the tiny world.
A current whispers, but the ant
does not listen.
Shadows of giants loom above~
a boot, a wheel, the indifferent sky.
The ant pauses, antennae tasting fear,
then presses on. The far shore
is a myth worth drowning for.
Halfway, it pauses again~
not to rest, but to recalibrate,
rearranging the world
one stubborn millimeter at a time.
The wind’s rough tongue licks at the load,
yet still he drags his emerald barge
to the far shore,
to dry earth.
The far shore is everything.
The crux of my jigsaw
is plastered on my face.
In scribbles of mine, I find-
a younger mind in my place.
Time's lapsed without define
as I read these words of mine.
Semi-confused and struggling,
Do I revise? -oh, this is puzzling.
What say you, my friend of mystery?
Do you rearrange the past,
or grant amnesty?
Post as is, or adjust its mast?
Touch the voice of the lost,
or leave her voice with a cost?
The past's sound disassociates
from present mind, to recalibrate.
Today might be a stressful day
tomorrow could be swell
next week might be a challenge
next month you’ll conquer hell
Next year could be different
to where you are today
the point of this being
don’t throw your life away
Why do you question things
why worry every day
everyone has a story
don’t let it cause delay
emerge from your cocoon
let your wings dry
see life in a new light
spread your wings and fly
When one cycle ends
another one begins
when one day you lose
another there could be wins
if todays a struggle
tomorrow could be great
So just take a breath
time to recalibrate
Take a walk in nature
feel the healing vibes
frequencies will gravitate
to your soulful tribes
Be grateful for the life
the magic that is there
soak up all the wisdom
and know the spirit’s care
I hear the sound of a truth train now coming.'
Then I notice many people running.'
Why are they going back uphill.?
In the wrong direction.?
Into the darrkness lurking and still.'
Also back into treacherous times.?
Must be they are bad..?At reading the signs.?
I thought that they were all on board.' Within the
Mind. ? Have i been over optomistic, or to
This place, just blind.? I hear their words I'm aware of faces blurred.'I
Feel their hunting breath, uncertain of much.' And scared to death, do they know of life.? For that fact do I.? I must recalibrate, Oh me oh my.'
Rise up and communicate
rise up to love not hate
you have the power deep inside
to shine your light far and wide
Come together one and all
share the love, hear the call
the world around needs to heal
rise on up, help others deal
Rise up and recalibrate
rise on up, its not too late
you have the power deep inside
to share your love far and wide
Be the light you wish to see
clear the path for destiny
motivate don't hesitate
tell the past to close the gate
Rock bottom was hard, a real raw deal
but rise on up and take the wheel
strength in numbers helps you heal
so rise on up till love you feel
Yeh rise up and embrace the new
yeh rise up, the world needs you
plant those dreams in a row
be inspired and watch them grow
Rise Rise Rise and mesmerize
Rise Rise Rise lets energize
Rise rise rise
the world needs some healing light
yeh rise on up you'll be alright
Rise Rise Rise.
ADDITION SHORT
I was short on addition
And I couldn’t subtract the different
My heart and mind was divided
2-+2 was 4 no more
And I couldn’t subtract the different
Multiply the fractions rounded up to 8
2+2 was 4 no more
Had to take the eraser, wipe off all numbers and recalibrate
Multiply the fractions rounded up to 8
2+2 was 4 no more
My heart and mind was divided
Had to take the eraser, wipe off all numbers and recalibrate
I was short on addition
4/5/2023
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2023©Pantoum
I took the off ramp too soon
I should have driven on to the next exit
but I left too soon.
Now in a strange landscape
I slow down looking for road signs
waymarks, names, and places known to me.
Stopped curb-side, fiddled with the GPS;
her voice was cool, distracted:
“Please recalibrate, enter your position,
the place you need to be does not compute.”
Sighing I look about me.
The buildings are deserted, windows boarded up.
streets empty.
I don’t belong to any of this,
I am affluent and live on a tree lined avenue
but that me, that life,
is one exit more beyond on the highway
and this car has no reverse drive. What!
It was nothing but a dream,
just a dream,
or was that other lost life,
that other misplaced place
an exit forever and always
too far for me?
Recalibrate, rededicate, remotivate
Life calls on us to demonstrate
that we will not quit, give up, or surrender
not become down-and-out dead-enders
So suck it up, stand erect, take the bull by the horn
at the crack of dawn, milk the cow, shuck that corn
Feel each inhalation recalibrate ~
The manner in which nodes within gyrate
Let each exhalation deepen wonder ~
Beholding within, soundless bliss thunder
18-December-2022
To pierce the veil, we need to vaporise
Ceasing to size, receptive to surprise
Desire is a blockage
Let not fears ravage
Void of cessation is the abode of the wise
Feeling of separateness is but our delusion
Flickering awareness mars our meditation
Thus to be succinct
Recalibrate reflex instinct
That we imbibe bliss currents by resonation
18-March-2022
https://www.yogabasics.com/learn/the-3-gunas-of-nature/
H ave a shot at telling the truth, for a change,
A nd see if it improves your viewership range.
N ot that it won’t take time for folks to recalibrate;
N ot many will find immediate cause to celebrate.
I t’s difficult to recover from a history of lies,
T here’s a world of difference for him who tries.
Y ou might turn the page and bring FOX a prize.
Pause
Selah, Just a moment, Time out, Reflection, Consideration, Marinate, Recalibrate
Set off again
© Stuart Patterson 2020
Better With Age
I’m actually getting better with age
To illustrate this, here is my gauge
The spots on my skin – think of a young leopard
The cane in my hand – think of a young Sheppard
And now that I squint – think of a young Clint (Eastwood)
The grey in my hair – now I look debonair
Though my jowls droop a little I feel fit as a fiddle
And though I wear glasses, the gals still make passes
My six-pack’s matured to a tight mini-keg
And I could run miles (except for one leg)
There’s a skip in my steps like I’m dancing on air
(It’s just orthopedics – I now wear a pair)
And the creaks and the groans that you hear when I move
Is the gypsy in me getting down with the groove
When I look in the mirror I still see someone young
And my memory sticks on the tip of my tongue
Yes, I’m actually getting better with age
If I recalibrate what I use for a gauge
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