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#probability
What is beautiful About reality Is what is beautiful About math There are Many things That have happened The things that have Produced this moment Are at most times ASTRONOMICAL Meaning so big It renders itself Incomprehensible Yet.. it happened Even if the Numbers against Stand taller than The daisy itself Ever could It still remains In the meadow For you and I To see
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Sep 30, 2022
Sep 30, 2022 at 4:55 PM UTC
Daisy in the Meadow
Being single Is awesome time It is full of all All the possibilities All you will ever have Any equations ** X+Y X+Z Like wise I mean all Sense it
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Dec 8, 2020
Dec 8, 2020 at 8:26 PM UTC
Probability
You wanted to dance with me With bare feet On broken glass With no music When I was a paraplegic You wanted to do the impossible Just to laugh probability in the face You wanted to dance with me In the middle of the pouring rain But I don't like your chances I don't believe in fate
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Nov 14, 2020
Nov 14, 2020 at 12:41 PM UTC
Dancing with Fate
On the busy floor of life and death stood a man Against the odds this man stood A slender man A well groomed man Who wore a coat A coat of wool A sheep's coat. Against the odds This man stood among the wolves motionless He held an umbrella in his hand. This umbrella... it stopped not rain it stopped not sun of the volatile weather but in his hand the man held this umbrella against the odds in volatile weather he stood slender well groomed wearing his coat his sheep's coat among the wolves motionless on the busy floor of life and death against the odds as he traded to the final bell
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Nov 23, 2019
Nov 23, 2019 at 6:47 PM UTC
Against the Odds
Probability isn’t the luck it deserves for wanting desperately to be noticed by any appeals. Generating new focuses never thought possible. If so… Who is the recipient? Who is the lawmaker? Who being the justice department? Goods to making essential markers on productive velocities. Justification is outweighed by department alone. Growing ever scarcer without benefiting attitudes in place. Conjecturing solvent pleasures across many fields. Fields of accessory dependents ensuring a collective term is agreeable. Except, what if probability is outweighed not by something further from its own attitude? What if it can’t benefit itself? In question, becoming misshaped, mispronounced, or misinterpreted. Depending on who’s right, or who’s wrong shouldn’t matter until claims are assured. Propagating across the many fields of accessory dependents. Dependents outweighing the logic one is misshaped by. Demonstrating probabilities mispronouncing sense of terms for oneself. Wrapping up in a crumbled conjecture. Propagating a newer field of already surveyed products. Truth is in the stream that propagates those fields. Accessory moments dependent on gaining tension through the rise of the recipient. That’s the only way probability will ever learn. Hence why it shuts down if it ever involved itself. Itself without its own recipient. Its own justice department. Lawmaker without any dependent ideas would ever appeal to its own logical making, if it’s never dependent on itself. Only flashing the accessory dependent on other influences. Influences going way down the line of certainties without pleasure. Urges relapse. Furthering its own clustered rut! One without mistakes diverging deeper into uncertainties. Taking risks isn’t noticeable. When probability taking risks enough to (blush) down the line of certainties without an aim involved. Scattering their rut from within. But how does it involve probability? It doesn’t. Probability is the representation of how one constant judge itself for pleasure. When pleasurable actions are dependent with a blank impression never sought out. To focused on probability. When probability isn’t fruitful by its own design either. Only way it works. Never looking back in itself. A reflection of tempted attitudes fluttering in a swift, but rigid wind. Wind never tempted by its own sway. If one is to admit what they aren’t even aware of changing. Another shutdown happens! Justifications for probabilities own reckoning depends on other solvents. Solvents who don’t even understand the probabilities of there own life makings. Able to learn what is dependent onto others. Never within themselves directing their starry performance. What happens when things are finally noticeable within probabilities that will exceed probable actions of the force that dictates fates majority complexes? Complexes without variety. Varieties misshaped by mishappenings of trust. Which includes a basic awareness of some factor never hesitating to judge within the core of being itself. A view fate designs in its weapon of probability very well. What is fate up to…? Never can guess when probability shuts down all appliances out of contact with no one but itself left in the dark. Probability is. Everything has just become disowned. Fate exchanging glances with itself for one last second, before rapping up this little diverse expression. Pinpointing its weapon of probability without knowing why that is? Hinting at fate not being the only recipient to follow in its weapons obstructed desires.
0
Oct 18, 2019
Oct 18, 2019 at 3:23 PM UTC
Probability Shutdown!
Probability isn’t the luck it deserves for wanting desperately to be noticed by any appeals. Generating new focuses never thought possible. If so… Who is the recipient? Who is the lawmaker? Who being the justice department? Goods to making essential markers on productive velocities. Justification is outweighed by department alone. Growing ever scarcer without benefiting attitudes in place. Conjecturing solvent pleasures across many fields. Fields of accessory dependents ensuring a collective term is agreeable. Except, what if probability is outweighed not by something further from its own attitude? What if it can’t benefit itself? In question, becoming misshaped, mispronounced, or misinterpreted. Depending on who’s right, or who’s wrong shouldn’t matter until claims are assured. Propagating across the many fields of accessory dependents. Dependents outweighing the logic one is misshaped by. Demonstrating probabilities mispronouncing sense of terms for oneself. Wrapping up in a crumbled conjecture. Propagating a newer field of already surveyed products. Truth is in the stream that propagates those fields. Accessory moments dependent on gaining tension through the rise of the recipient. That’s the only way probability will ever learn. Hence why it shuts down if it ever involved itself. Itself without its own recipient. Its own justice department. Lawmaker without any dependent ideas would ever appeal to its own logical making, if it’s never dependent on itself. Only flashing the accessory dependent on other influences. Influences going way down the line of certainties without pleasure. Urges relapse. Furthering its own clustered rut! One without mistakes diverging deeper into uncertainties. Taking risks isn’t noticeable. When probability taking risks enough to (blush) down the line of certainties without an aim involved. Scattering their rut from within. But how does it involve probability? It doesn’t. Probability is the representation of how one constant judge itself for pleasure. When pleasurable actions are dependent with a blank impression never sought out. To focused on probability. When probability isn’t fruitful by its own design either. Only way it works. Never looking back in itself. A reflection of tempted attitudes fluttering in a swift, but rigid wind. Wind never tempted by its own sway. If one is to admit what they aren’t even aware of changing. Another shutdown happens! Justifications for probabilities own reckoning depends on other solvents. Solvents who don’t even understand the probabilities of there own life makings. Able to learn what is dependent onto others. Never within themselves directing their starry performance. What happens when things are finally noticeable within probabilities that will exceed probable actions of the force that dictates fates majority complexes? Complexes without variety. Varieties misshaped by mishappenings of trust. Which includes a basic awareness of some factor never hesitating to judge within the core of being itself. A view fate designs in its weapon of probability very well. What is fate up to…? Never can guess when probability shuts down all appliances out of contact with no one but itself left in the dark. Probability is. Everything has just become disowned. Fate exchanging glances with itself for one last second, before rapping up this little diverse expression. Pinpointing its weapon of probability without knowing why that is? Hinting at fate not being the only recipient to follow in its weapons obstructed desires.
Continue reading...
1
A life away You intertwined our fingers And whisper, this is fate It cannot be by chance. But little do you know, There is no guiding hand We are a combination Of one path that we took And the rest that were not taken And in this very moment I read a book in a café I watch a movie from my bed I ski across the Alps I breathe your scent Mingled with the aromas Of coffee, sleep and freshly packed snow And of many, many more And yet The braid made by our fingers Is duplicated countless times Through all these permutations You see The odds were therefore in our favor Alas, no mysticism here What you call fate, is chance The guiding hand of nature.
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Jul 14, 2019
Jul 14, 2019 at 10:18 AM UTC
Lyrical Physics #8: Fokker-Planck
I dream of a dream that dreams of me And in this dream is only me. Only me, and yet it seems, This dream begins so differently. A man is standing where I stood Beneath a lamp post wearing a hood. I approached this man to understand Who this man could be. I remove the hood just to see This unknown man is actually me. Me in every way, and yet, in every way, he's not. Same nose. Same ears. Same face and eyes But it was the details that gave me the most surprise. Like looking in a ***** mirror, The imperfections were growing clearer, This me that isn't me. From the void beyond the lamp Came more of me. Me with scars. Me with blue eyes. Me with long hair. Me, a female. Me, a radical. Me with apathy. Me with confidence. Me, missing limbs. Me, defeated. Me, triumphant. Me, me, me. All of me here at the same time, Separated by choices we made Or choices made for us. We all looked into our familiar stares Awaiting answers that never came. An endless sea of me With so many possibilities, But we all go separate ways.
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Jan 10, 2019
Jan 10, 2019 at 5:17 PM UTC
Infinite Me
I hate fate All it's secrets All it's uncertainty Ask for flowers You get weeds Ask for love You get regret Ask for strength You get weaker Ask for patience You waste time I hate fate All it's tricks All it's games
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Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 4:27 PM UTC
Fate
I probably like you today But I never know what’s the future will hold I probably love you tomorrow But the past is always lingering
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Jul 24, 2018
Jul 24, 2018 at 12:11 AM UTC
Probability
The existence of us lied purely on conditional probability The probability that event A will happen with the knowledge that event B has already happened And if you asked me why I kissed you I would tell you I liked when our probability was me over you With your hands laying tangent to my curves I kissed you as much as I wanted and as much as I could If you asked me why I kissed you goodbye Even though you were not mine It was because time is only ever ticking away And if I run out of time I can’t kiss you The probability of you calling me beautiful was a 0.25 on the qualitative spectrum Unlikely. But you did and your voice sounded like honey sticking to the heartstrings in my chest, filling in the cracks, it was sweet Our probability quickly shifted from me over you to 1 over 6 very likely to unlikely and the conditional probability of you leaving seemed to take over any set equation I saw the curve in your lips decay faster day by day The eyes that I tried so hard to catch mine Don’t even make the effort to look in my direction And the honey you left in my chest turned sickly And it’s been there so long I think I’m attracting bees I lay my hands flat on your chest and I am touching you because I can’t help it because time is only ever ticking away And I’m crying Why am I crying? The memories are rushing back Your hand on my thigh in that blue dress Your arm around me in the parking lot I remember it was warm and you were talking to my mother You always had the charm to make me dance and that night I felt you in my bones 50/50 I thought we were 50/50 Now I’ve always preferred chemistry And we felt like a combustion formula But we were just probability and statistics And I’ve always hated math
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Sep 2, 2017
Sep 2, 2017 at 10:44 AM UTC
Probability and Statistics
The existence of us lied purely on conditional probability The probability that event A will happen with the knowledge that event B has already happened And if you asked me why I kissed you I would tell you I liked when our probability was me over you With your hands laying tangent to my curves I kissed you as much as I wanted and as much as I could If you asked me why I kissed you goodbye Even though you were not mine It was because time is only ever ticking away And if I run out of time I can’t kiss you The probability of you calling me beautiful was a 0.25 on the qualitative spectrum Unlikely. But you did and your voice sounded like honey sticking to the heartstrings in my chest, filling in the cracks, it was sweet Our probability quickly shifted from me over you to 1 over 6 very likely to unlikely and the conditional probability of you leaving seemed to take over any set equation I saw the curve in your lips decay faster day by day The eyes that I tried so hard to catch mine Don’t even make the effort to look in my direction And the honey you left in my chest turned sickly And it’s been there so long I think I’m attracting bees I lay my hands flat on your chest and I am touching you because I can’t help it because time is only ever ticking away And I’m crying Why am I crying? The memories are rushing back Your hand on my thigh in that blue dress Your arm around me in the parking lot I remember it was warm and you were talking to my mother You always had the charm to make me dance and that night I felt you in my bones 50/50 I thought we were 50/50 Now I’ve always preferred chemistry And we felt like a combustion formula But we were just probability and statistics And I’ve always hated math
Continue reading...
41
Smiles, tram cars, stinging eyelids Transparent brittle shards, Ashes finding water surface All of this onto a palm Locked into a fist I’m the coin that’s landing on its rim The odds were slim and yet I am standing on a grin The third side says that Karma always wins
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Jun 9, 2017
Jun 9, 2017 at 5:17 AM UTC
The Narrow Side
letters are nothing more than symbols just lucky strokes upon a white background that project memories, feelings, images, experiences words, spoken words, are nothing more than just sounds just skin touching more skin vibrating the air around it to produce grunts, noises, sighs, screeches, music colors that we see are nothing more than waves of electromagnetic radiation just light bouncing off of matter to show beauty, danger, lightness, darkness everything in this world You Me are just coincidences just random bits of probability infinity to one the chances anything would happen is basically zero everything at any point could have went wrong yet after half the life of eternity i met you i read your symbols i heard your sounds i saw your light the right symbols: infinity to one the right sounds: omega to one the right light: aleph-null to one but everything about you was right and here we are clearly an impossibility with our chances infinitely close to zero every second approaching zero reaching its limit and now here with our chances lining up virtually never to be i saw you and i fell into you and in one reality every infinity you fell for me too if only i was in one of those
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Dec 11, 2015
Dec 11, 2015 at 10:40 AM UTC
Infinitesimals
You're probably reading this from the same place I'm writing it behind a desk outside the box trapped in a corporation free in my thoughts You're probably reading this for the same reason I'm writing it because words matter because it doesn't matter the way everything matters You're probably sick of reading probably yet we are hardly anything more than what can be proven we're probably the invention before probability The loving  likelihoods of life like crawling before walking like falling when learning to walk like walking into runs The statistics of confusion divided for the mystical equation of adding all things make believe subtracting all things real and solving you for yourself
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May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 10:39 AM UTC
Pascal & Fermat
Dear Math, I wrote this letter to let you know how I feel about you. The thing is much as you love me so much, we can never be an Item when all you do is torture my brain and break my heart. You claim to be a linguist, yet you know none of my languages. You don't know Kiswahili neither do you know English and only speak Algebra and statistics...I loathe you for all you do is play on my mind with words like Sigma and Meu, factorial and co-factor.You claim you want to be the only one but still ask me to find your X without even telling me Y.Well, grow up and solve your own problems because I'm tired of solving them for you.Just walk out of my life forever and not temporarily like the dew. You have hurt me enough with razors of matrices, pinched me simultaneously and never asked me whether I believed in your ancient beliefs like those of Pythagoras or not. We were never meant to be. I found a new one, her name is literature and she loves me so much.I won't apologize for saying I hate you because It's unfair apologizing for saying the truth. Yours with anger
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Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 1:44 PM UTC
MY LETTER TO MATHEMATICS
I'd like to believe that it will be better than the past, but as the they used to say in the teachers' lounges when I taught high school: There Is No Bottom. mce
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Apr 12, 2015
Apr 12, 2015 at 5:50 PM UTC
The Future
What If, the sky were to bleed What If, hatred transformed into seed What If, its all about greed What If, love is all you need What If, friendship becomes foul What If, body rejects soul What If, anger becomes meal What If, death makes you kneel What If, night sky loose stars What If, you can only feel scars What If, everyone look forward to wars What is it, if you were to live on mars |AB|
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Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 11:18 AM UTC
What If
The probability of me being improbable is highly definite. The statistical occurrence of randomness Is proportional to the flow of consciousness.
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May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 5:19 PM UTC
Definite improbability