Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 May 2013
Redshift
my little sister
who is just fifteen
speaks of things
she knows nothing about
she is always trying to tell me
that dad sexually abused her as a child
but she only believes it
because mom told her
i hate
divorce
 May 2013
Solaces
i don't know her name..
i just see her pour water into the river..
she then stands in the shallows with her umbrella..
she looks away into a place that she knows exist..

i don't know her name..
i just hear her hum a melody sweet..
makes the river flow..
as she looks away into a place that she knows exist..

i don't know her name..
i just see her hair dance in the wind..
she spins her umbrella left to right..
as she looks away into a place that she knows exist..

i don't know her name..
i just see her stand in the shallows under a lone black cloud..
rain falls on her umbrella and into the river..
as she looks away into a place that she knows exist..

i don't know her name..
i just wrote a poem about her..
a memory a dream..
someone real, someone created, in a place i know that truly exist..
 May 2013
berry
like fools, we dove into the shallow end.
head first. blind to the danger.
the jump itself was bliss.

fingers interlocked, laughter pouring from our mouths,
eyes bewitched and sparkling naively.
we were childlike. godlike. untouchable.

however our euphoria ended abruptly
at the reality of the encroaching cement bottom -
awaiting our skulls

but by the time we realized what was happening
it was too late.
you cannot stop gravity.

the smiles faded from our mouths.
and we went down,
down, down.

no hope for air.
no flailing limbs.
no final breath.

not a chance at revival.

we were dead on impact.

we never got to swim.
 May 2013
jerely
All your struggles make my heart but my love stains true.
Forget the rumors keep you head up I'm right here with you.
I know that love’s not always easy, but if it’s true you’ll be more than
willing to give the all expectancy back and fight until the end.
Will I ever learn, to just let it go?
Sometimes we can’t help but hurt the ones we love by caring too much.
Will I ever learn?
Even true love can betray the one you treasure most.
It’s not the game you’d play
An english version of Never Learn by Jason Chen
I'd just like the lyrics of the song
Originally a chinese song by JJ Lin
 May 2013
Curt A Rivard Sr
Speak Nothing

Wire up the tool
Shoot them into your dead gums
Twist and snip it flush.
(SirCARSr. 5-07-13)

See Nothing

Pull up the eye lid
Insert the tan eye cap quick
Medusa no more.
(SirCARSr. 5-07-13)

Hear Nothing

Sick blunt force trauma
Pack cotton inside the ears
To soak up the blood.
(SirCARSr. 5-07-13)
 May 2013
Charles Bukowski
often it is the only
thing
between you and
impossibility.
no drink,
no woman's love,
no wealth
can
match it.
nothing can save
you
except
writing.
it keeps the walls
from
failing.
the hordes from
closing in.
it blasts the
darkness.
writing is the
ultimate
psychiatrist,
the kindliest
god of all the
gods.
writing stalks
death.
it knows no
quit.
and writing
laughs
at itself,
at pain.
it is the last
expectation,
the last
explanation.
that's
what it
is.
from blank gun silencer - 1991
 May 2013
Charles Bukowski
I read last Saturday in the
redwoods outside of Santa Cruz
and I was about 3/4's finished
when I heard a long high scream
and a quite attractive
young girl came running toward me
long gown & divine eyes of fire
and she leaped up on the stage
and screamed: "I WANT YOU!
I WANT YOU! TAKE ME! TAKE
ME!"
I told her, "look, get the hell
away from me."
but she kept tearing at my
clothing and throwing herself
at me.
"where were you," I
asked her, "when I was living
on one candy bar a day and
sending short stories to the
Atlantic Monthly?"
she grabbed my ***** and almost
twisted them off. her kisses
tasted like shitsoup.
2 women jumped up on the stage
and
carried her off into the
woods.
I could still hear her screams
as I began the next poem.
mabye, I thought, I should have
taken her on stage in front
of all those eyes.
but one can never be sure
whether it's good poetry or
bad acid.
The power of Averages,
it means a lot
if you can
understand Means, a lot.

Assuming a Normal Distribution,

A Standard Deviation, or σ
defines where about 68% of the data falls;
roughly 34% above and below the Mean.

Two Standard Deviations
defines where a further 28% of data lies;
14% above and below 1σ and -1σ.

Positive 1-Sigma is one Standard Deviation above the Mean
Negative 1-Sigma is one below;
The range from -2σ to 2σ includes  96% of data.
The implications are astounding.

Within 3 Standard Deviations, one finds 99.7% of the data;
Within 4σ, 99.9%, 5σ, 99.999%,
the remainder are generally outliers and other improbable results.

To illustrate:

Suppose we had a group of 100 people,
and we wish to determine average height:
If our Mean height ends up being, say, 180 cm,
with a Standard Deviation of 20cm,
We can suppose that of 100 people, on average,
with a certain Margin of Error that is inversely proportionate to our Sample Size, or n
(for sake of argument, the Probable Error, or γ, is 13.49cm)

4 are taller than 220cm
14 are between 200cm and 220cm
68 are between 160cm and 200cm
14 are from 140cm to 160cm
4 are shorter than 140cm
--

Statistics is the parent of Probability;
Statistics is the Art and Science of Forecast,
Statistics paves the way for modern Science
Statistics is a powerful weapon in the fight against Ignorance
Statistics, however, are generally and intentionally misrepresented and thus misunderstood.

For increasingly accurate figures,
one must have a larger Sample Size
and a Sample group that is a representative subgroup
of the Whole

This is intentionally abused
by most of the News
you read or see each day on Paper and Screens alike.


If a "Statistical analysis" does not include at least
Margin of Error or Probable Error,
Mean (Average), Standard Deviation, and Sample Size
do not take it as accurate.

Depending on the source,
it could even be deliberately malicious.

Arm yourself with Knowledge.
 May 2013
Charles Bukowski
I say to my woman, "Jeffers was
a great poet. think of a title
like Be Angry At The Sun. don't you
realize how great that is?

"you like that negative stuff." she
says

"positively," I agree, finishing my
drink and pouring another.
"in one of Jeffers' poems, not the sun poem,
this woman ***** a stallion because her
husband is such a gross spirit. and it's
believable. then the husband goes out
to **** the stallion and the stallion
kills him."

"I never heard of Jeffers," she
says.

"you never heard of Big Sur? Jeffers
made Big Sur famous just like D. H. Lawrence
made Taos famous. when a
great writer writes about where he
lives the mob comes in and takes
over."

"well you write about San Pedro," she
says.

"yeah," I say, "and have you read the
papers lately? they are going to construct
a marina here, one of the largest in the
world, millions and billions of dollars,
there is going to be a huge shopping
center, yachts and condominiums every-
where!"

"and to think," my woman says smiling, "that you've only
lived here for three years!"

"I still think," I say,
changing the subject,
"you ought to read Jeffers."
 May 2013
Charles Bukowski
small cheap rooms where you walk
down the hall to the
bathroom can seem romantic to
a young writer.
even the rejection slips are
amusing because you are sure that
you are
one of the best.

but while sitting there
looking across the room
at the portable typer
waiting for you on the table
you are really
in a sense
insane

as you wait for
one more night to arrive to sit and
type Immortal Words--but now you
just sit and think about it
on your first afternoon in a strange city.

looking over at the door you
almost
expect a beautiful woman to walk in.

being young
helps get you through
many senseless and terrible
days.

being old
does
too.
Next page