#formula
Y
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| /
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|/_______
X
so is this how to begin answering this question?
Come on the calculator can’t be that far
Ah I’m starting to understand now y=k√x
What about the bigger question?
The Greatest is Allah
May 14
May 14, 2026 at 1:40 AM UTC
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.
Sep 22, 2025
Sep 22, 2025 at 7:40 PM UTC
Maybe age
stresses you to un-stress
and that's the magic formula
Jun 30, 2025
Jun 30, 2025 at 5:34 AM UTC
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.
May 19, 2025
May 19, 2025 at 1:45 PM UTC
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.
Apr 16, 2025
Apr 16, 2025 at 11:43 AM UTC
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.
Sep 26, 2019
Sep 26, 2019 at 3:25 PM UTC
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!
Jun 13, 2019
Jun 13, 2019 at 6:31 PM UTC
his fingers traced every angle of her body
like a mathmatician conjecturing a new formula
slowly yet profoundly
Mar 3, 2019
Mar 3, 2019 at 11:05 AM UTC
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
Oct 30, 2018
Oct 30, 2018 at 12:06 PM UTC
To be in McLaren MTC,
That really would be cool,
I hope this competition's real,
Not an early April fool.
A dedicated petrol head,
Who's driven an F1 car,
A Benetton in Spain last year,
Not a Prost, or Jaguar,
Would love to see the inside track,
See inside a first class team,
To sit and sip the atmosphere,
Would fulfil a long held dream
To be sat there in race control,
Just as the race is run,
Aside from being a privilege,
Would really be such fun.
So in picking out a winner,
It's very clear to see,
You need to look no further,
The one to pick is me !
Mar 21, 2018
Mar 21, 2018 at 1:48 PM UTC
Gravitational forces
towards something better
as if it exists
buried beneath
some distant desert
what is it
that strains to convey
itself
in this broken poetry
as if truth were at
the tip of its tongue
perhaps it's to feel real
for only a moment
to escape the routine
of making a living
which only yields
a skeleton
compacted in dirt
Take my writing
let it fly upon the wind
let it touch the four corners
of Earth's spiritless surface
Take it farther!
upon the wings of doves
and sound waves of conversation
to red and gaseous planets
let even the martian men
attempt to
translate
Feb 18, 2018
Feb 18, 2018 at 5:47 PM UTC
Cobblestone,
Your eyes candlelit, blazing
I've lit a fire for you
Oh the fumbling of hands we share, here
The fumbling of elements many have felt
And I wonder if I am any different--
A trundled body of mistaken chemicals
Brash, raw--
Nevertheless
I wish to learn the angles
To love
--
c
Feb 16, 2018
Feb 16, 2018 at 2:53 PM UTC
A gorgeous formula for force is:
F=dp/dt or F=d(m.v)/dt
By employing mass into velocity.
This formula uses the momentum
To elucidate the force involved
And to deduce the frontage
Of any effect developed
Jul 16, 2017
Jul 16, 2017 at 8:38 AM UTC
My philosophy professor posed a question:
Mary, an expert in color—
The way light bends through rods and cones and the use of electromagnetic radiation—
Is blind to it, unable to even imagine the beauty
Of your sea foam eyes,
Rose petal lips.
Does she, knowing every fact, every formula,
Truly know color?
It got me thinking,
(I guess that’s the purpose of philosophy)
Did I really love you?
Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 1:21 AM UTC
I sit in math class
thinking why y=mx+b
I start thinking about life
and how I could put it into this problem
y would be you
mx would be your and my ex
and the +b would stand for me
y stands for you because
when I decided to take you on
I knew it was gonna be me plus our ex
and I thought it could work
mx is our ex's because they both
just team up together to try to ruin
the happiness we built and so they
are multiplied together because they're
a team.
the +b has to stand for me because
I'm in this situation too and I stand alone in it. He wants me but he could go back to his ex.
I'm so confused why he can't just cancel out the mx and just keep b.
Is just the 1 of me not good enough for all of him?
Jun 2, 2015
Jun 2, 2015 at 10:49 PM UTC
Love Function
Love function.m
----------------------------------------------------------
*function *** hopeful (pain, pleasure)
% xxx A romp through the meadows below
% perceived as a token invitation to
% the gates of heaven and hell back, enjoyed.
xxx.plans=...
['kiss', 'touch', 'play';
'hug', 'grope', 'nookie'];
duration= 45.00;
awk.silence= 480.00*pleasure;
rest= 0:1/pain: duration;
love = [ ];
for i= 7:length(pain)
pain = pleasure (u);
if (pleasure= 'kiss' && pain= 'touch' && pleasure= 'play' && pain= ''grope' && pleasure= 'hug' && pleasure= nookie')
%checks for comfort
continue
end;
[ii,uu] = find(pain==pleasure);
moan = cos(2pipain(ii,uu)duration) + cos(2pipleasure(ii,uu)*awk.silence);
love = [love, hate(2,awk.silence), callback]
end;
maybe(yes,no);
relationship(love);
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 6:20 PM UTC
Is it a coincidence?
I think not.
It's not just one of those serendipitous happenings where both times we meet are budding from me ******* up.
I may be staring intently at something that isn't there
but I believe it's a sign just as much as the one you always ignored at the intersection.
Me ******* up equals me seeing you.
It's not a perfect formula but I'm still working out the kinks
God, you know how I love math
I'm probably just grasping at something and anything that means I can be with you for just one more instant
I know you see what I'm doing here
And I thank you for playing along
Do whatever you will
Just don't correct me when I'm wrong
I'm trying to **** up
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 7:46 PM UTC
They were once meaningless
I write and in one, two and three
The transgression made its way to you
They became lyrics,
My hymn towards you.
Eradicating you made me at ease
Til lines intersect
There was no division
The strategy became a multiplication
Where the factors were lost as digits
There’re no emotions at all.
We were destined
To know the factors
To solve the x and y
Then, sections were subdivided.
I was in y, you were in x
As if we’re in supplementary angles
Why’re we apart?
Can two junctions be aligned?
The triangle was secluded
With the main angle,
The base, the height
The hypothenuse uploaded the main formula.
Never will I resolve this
For formula was never been taught
As if I’m doing such trials and errors
Til I get tired
And be drowned by head and heartaches.
The compass would never shape you
The ellipse would not offer you mass
There were no vectors at all,
Now, its just the dot
The single one which may point me
Towards the possible focus of such lines.
(2/23/14 @xirlleelang)
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 12:36 AM UTC
The path made of me.. The soul within that becomes the energy engine that drives this beautiful soul filled Bike of the 9th universe..
I travel on the belt of Athena.. This is where stars are made and sent off to be born among those whom have the pleasure of gazing at their beautiful luster.. It is also the place where stars still shine even after thay have long faded into the blackness spirial abyss they roll on.. My lightcycle, soulcycle, Emotion engine machine streaks me across the cosmos.. I transcend my dreams and become the rider of the new universe.. I cross on over my heavens and pass all that emotion could ever feel.. This moment I see inside my Lightcycle the formula of creation.. Life rides with me.. Where ever I may go.. Because now I know how alive even a beam of light is.. My Lightcycle shines STARFIRE BLUE.. The creation.. The music.. The love.. I feel all of you here.. Watch me blaze! Watch me Blaze!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 5:54 PM UTC