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Jasper Sep 22
My friends, and my dreams, and
My hope, and my drive, and
My rest, and my age, and
My will, and my love,
And my life, and me -
Equals 0.
Just something inspired
Maria Etre Jun 30
Maybe age
stresses you to un-stress
and that's the magic formula
AylahHearts May 19
A cricket watched from the windowsill,
quiet, still, as the scientist adjusted the telescope again and again.
Looking through the lens,
there was a mess of a star
One that seemed fuzzy and incoherent.
The scientist sighed,
“I can’t tell where it ends!”
And after hours of trying, he stepped away.

He gave up looking.
When the formula was there all along.
The answer was ratio.
The answer was patience.
The answer was focus.
He left before learning that proximity doesn’t mean blur.
It meant resolution is possible with the right
lens.

But he never paused long enough
for the air to still,
for the optics to align,
for the sky to stop shimmering.
He just saw confusion
where clarity was only one calculation away.

When the room fell silent,
the cricket crept onto the scientist’s desk.
Small as a semicolon but bold as truth.
It chirped once
and left behind a slip of paper.
On it, the formula.
A quiet reminder that closeness is not confusion.
It is just a matter of resolution.




Dawes’ Limit.
R = 4.56 / D
Defining the smallest details visible under ideal conditions.
The closest two stars can clearly be seen together In the night sky.
In the shadowed halls where whispers linger,  
politics dances with the syndrome of corruption,  
a waltz of power,  
where drugs and money are the tune,  
each ear a prisoner to the siren call.  

Promises paper thin,  
like smoke curling in the air,  
they fade before the light of dawn,  
leaving only the residue of ambition,  
the stains of greed untouched by conscience.  

Votes exchanged like currency,  
fingers stained with the ink of betrayal,  
as the puppets pull their strings in secret rooms,  
where the air is thick with unspoken truths,  
and the price of a soul is just a ticket.  

They clad their rhetoric in silk and gold,  
their speeches wrapped in veneer,  
but behind closed doors,  
the language is raw,  
a formula of corruption carved in blood.  

What is justice but a game to them,  
a pawn moved on the board of exploitation,  
while the hungry cry, the weak tremble,  
and the powerful smile,  
counting their spoils with gluttonous glee.  

But beneath the surface,  
the tide bends,  
rebellion stirs with a hunger for change,  
as truth, like a seed buried deep,  
begins to rise.  

The poison they feed us might spread,  
but the antidote is resilience,  
the call of unity against the echo of greed—  
a movement forged in the fires of hope,  
where drugs and money will no longer bind us,  
and power will answer to the people.
Ken Pepiton Sep 2019
A private memory shared with one close
closed bubble within my bubble,
on a San Diego winter day,
it came to pass
cacophony's child, noise,

beginner guitar and vocal solo loud as lungs allow,
making dischords and missed beats feel
like, demons
sc'reaching into fretful, jobless Dad's brain

Stop, please! Tic, that was it- the point-end
track switch…

he was cut to the core, a full on ogre
as father
wound, through the heart

in tears of rage, he said,
I was worshipping…

said the child, and
he had been

adding
worth, with his whole little fist sized heart,

Dad had been working, in service of some other god,
slowly going mad.
The forms of ideas seem to simmer when I share them here. I learned forms and ideas were one, in the head on Plato's broad shoulders.
Shofi Ahmed Jun 2019
Move big start small the golden ratio
is always 1.618 something is never 2.
But gives the formula to design flawlessly on the go
from micro to macro level all the way to the true north!
his fingers traced every angle of her body
like a mathmatician conjecturing a new formula
slowly yet profoundly
gray Nov 2018
me
+
you
=
a beautiful disaster
i hate everything
Amanda Kay Burke Oct 2018
Gasping for air like fish on land
Feel my heart's pace quicken
Desperate to escape mocking reality
I savor these drugs kick in

To fly a distance from here is my aim
Run far so I can start over
I am too close to unhealthy triggers
I'm losing ambition, why should I get sober?

It is not love I'm seeking out
Looking for internal happiness
Do not ask me why I'm always blue
Then tell me I must be depressed

I want to be normal, been so long
Need to defeat my addiction
Can't find the strength that used to reside
Just can't let go of this affliction

Desire the drive to be better
My mind stuck in a deep rut
Must be missing part of the formula
Just can't figure out what
It feels like I have all the pieces to the puzzle I am just too stupid or too impatient to figure out how to win.
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