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brandychanning Dec 2023
Unknown Variables

The phrase pokes me the eye,
demanding obeisance and a

My compliance is required,
not demanded, but required,
for the “unknown variables”
conundrum, roots around in
my brain cells necessitating a

Walking down the street is
fraught, unknown variables
everywhere, popping out like
cutouts on a law enforcement
shooting course, requiring
instant delineation between
killing not good guys and only bad guys,
no hostages, civilians and no them,

Can you test for unknown

Of course not.

Unknown is a condition,
that you cannot drop in
to ascertain what condition
your multiple conditions are

Then there is you.

reader, are an unknown
variable, ripe with nearly
nuclear reaction potential,
you are fissionable material,
capable of destruction of
my explosive

Assessing the poem,
do you conclude,
keep/discard, remake?

poem a known variable, asking
that it becomes a parcel of
your multivariate inputs,
a familiar variable, that can
charm, destroy, mislead, or
even, fulfill a need, make a
reckoning, modify your brain;
all those dangerous things
that are permissible when
first you read a newly constant
known variable,
a perpetually reborning

my name is brandychanning
“Wakely tells Calvin that “no one is best alone” and that he should open himself up to “unknown variables” — the results might surprise him.“

Lessons in Chemistry
Andrew Rueter Mar 2019
There are so many people
And they’re all so different
So I can’t treat them equal
Which makes me distant

I try to be aerial
But all the variables
Create a scary hole
Of impairing cold

So I simplify the equation
To just understanding you
But you find your elation
With the rest of the zoo

The parabola in my pants
When we prance
Is not up to chance
It’s like a leaf on its branch
I’m the DuBois that’s Blanche
Left in a trance

Through interrogation
I find variation
That spares relation
Causing alienation

Changes in your mood
Range from rude to lewd
Which isn’t something new
Just something I outgrew
Like America and Spiro Agnew
Or Fox News and what’s true
I no longer want to be with you

But I don’t want to be part of society
They’re always judging my propriety
By saying my kind acts sloppily
So by transitive property
They’re actually mocking me

They’re all angels and demons
They all have different reasons
Depending on the seasons
Determining their legion
Or excuse for treason

They say variety is the spice of life
But to me it’s more like lice at night
Making me itch from light little bites
Until I’ve lost my sight
And can’t fight this fight
On varying heights

— The End —