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Wyatt Nguyen Jan 2014
Check:
Let O = Orifice
Let D = What ever your imagination brings you to

The Limit as D approaches O
you see her face start to glow

The log of the base
is a way to find the D in her face

No function can go on an asymptotes
But i will **** in her and cover her *** in ***** layered coats  

The polar coordinates of your O
Is Tangent to where she is ******* my big toe

Because you will find me in her
The  quadratic has multiple integers

The function calls to vertically stretch O
So at the end of the day I Dont Really Know

This is a metaphor for really weird ***

Thanks.
Nat Lipstadt Jan 2014
the theory of entropy

A doctrine of inevitable social decline and degeneration.
or
A single toss of a fair coin has an entropy of one bit. A series of two fair coin tosses has an entropy of two bits. The number of fair coin tosses is its entropy in bits. This random selection between two outcomes in a sequence over time, whether the outcomes are equally probable or not, is often referred to as a Bernoulli process. The entropy of such a process is given by the binary entropy function. The entropy rate for a fair coin toss is one bit per toss. However, if the coin is not fair, then the uncertainty, and hence the entropy rate, is lower. This is because, if asked to predict the next outcome, we could choose the most frequent result and be right more often than wrong. The difference between what we know, or predict, and the information that the unfair coin toss reveals to us is less than one heads-or-tails "message",
or bit, per toss.[5]
~~~~~
**one bit per toss

one love per life

over time we entropy,
degrade our physic,
even our heart~need,
tho ever burning,
gives off less heat,
as the candle aged-consumed,
the eighth day canister of love oil,
the sole remainder,
slow level diminishes.

we keep on tossing the coin,
and with every failed love,
the need, entropies, declines,
the coin is worn down,
making tails-you-lose
the greater probability.

but then all it probably takes,
just another toss,
and bit you are
by the coin of the realm
that-once-discovered,
from her, this realm,
this woman,
you will never leave,
nor coin-toss ever again
Jan. 26, 2014
For my beloved
Tommy N Dec 2010
GUN
I can’t decide: the temple
or the mouth. In my mouth
it reminds me of holding a spoon
on my tongue, or when I  leaned pennies against
my gums. It is like licking the key to the shed, 1999.
The temple reminds me of my mother’s thumb
Pressing against circularly, circularly.
I shoot.
I wake up in front of a computer screen.
The air crashes together rippling
like a snake digests small rodents. I wake up next
to a beautiful woman. The explosion comes in
layers of jagged red and parallel yellow, like a cartoon.

PILLS
Swallow-Puke-Swallow-Can-
not-let-mybody-winthis-­one-Ilock-
-thedoor-andleave-ano-
-te-
No-one-should-come-look
-i­ng-for-me.

TRAIN
Don’t notice the figure lowering himself
onto the tracks, pausing to consider lying down
then the light comes, and I turn toward it
letting my bag slide from me. My jackets molt.
The only sound is the plank rattles of feet
running south. The only feeling is the space
between a cloud and the crack of lightning.
The birth. Light envelopes the figure.

JUMPING
I leap
far
because (Bernoulli’s Principle) not
wanting      to be ******      back
against the side of the build
ing, like examples:
      window-blinds
shower curtains.
      I realize every time
I argued(lied) airplanes were safe.
This is when (building) I hit.

CAR
I am with you,
Jenny. I couldn’t do this
without you. I hold your hand
and realize I have never touched your
skin until this moment. Neither of our hands
are cold. The fumes coming from the siphon hose
are warm. I smell the dirtbike from the time,
9 years old, I topped the hill. Beyond,
are wildflowers. I cannot remember if this
is a dream. Waking up, Jenny,
our hands are
falling apart. Jenny,
your hand has not gone limp,
but it has lifted like a jellyfish.
Written 2010 during the MFA program at Columbia College Chicago
Don Bouchard Nov 2011
The way of a man with a maid,
Solomon said,
Too much for him to understand
Too much.
A snake crawling on a rock,
A ship moving across the waves
The motionless soaring of an eagle
Too much to understand.

I have come to grips with a snake's scaly progress,
undulating,
cupping,
twisting,
hugging,
movement upon a rock.

I can nearly sense a ship's purposeful meanderings
on pathless seas,
driven by compass-aimed sails
and the science of sextants and stars.

I have accepted the Bernoulli Principle:
air currents rushing under and
meandering over
curved and feathered wings
producing lift,
defying gravity.

But still I cannot grasp
the way of a man with a maid.

Though I have studied
oxytocin,
endorphins,
hormonal urges,
a man and a maid
who walk through life
past beauty and prime,
surviving the vagaries of time,
seeing in each other
their youth long spent,
still straight and tall in the other's mind,
though old and bent...
must always bring me wondering, to a stop.
Such things, the Wise One said,
Are far too wonderful for me.

Long live love.
Drop in the Sea Apr 2019
Its a really hard place to live
When you got no submarine
When you got nowhere to go
Out of this crazy rushed world

People are in so fast flow
That a simple Bernoulli law
Is forcing you to be same
And you got noone else to blame

When Im sitting in my secret place
World is flowing very fast
I see just bloom of your face
While you running your last race

My mind , Is just like a sponge
Soaking and soaking for so much time
Then in worst scenario exploding
throwing Debris in non deterministic lines

Im okay mom , im okay
My head is just not the same
And I just need an open air
To get little more of oxygen

Im okay mom , im okay
But sometimes is it not a fair
I do see, you want to stare
Sometimes i wish ,That you dont care

Im okay dad , Im okay
I Hope you got someone to blame
Dont blame yourself , please dont blame
Cause it would be my cross to wear

— The End —