"calculation" poems
Es ist Unsinn
sagt die Vernunft
Es ist was es ist
sagt die Liebe
Es ist Unglück
sagt die Berechnung
Es ist nichts als Schmerz
sagt die Angst
Es ist aussichtslos
sagt die Einsicht
Es ist was es ist
sagt die Liebe
Es ist lächerlich
sagt der Stolz
Es ist leichtsinnig
sagt die Vorsicht
Es ist unmöglich
sagt die Erfahrung
Es ist was es ist
sagt die Liebe
It is nonsense
says reason
It is what it is
says love
It is misfortune
says calculation
It is nothing but pain
says fear
It is what it is
says love
It is ridiculous
says pride
It is careless
says caution
It is impossible
says experience
It is what it is
says love
Jan 31, 2018
Jan 31, 2018 at 6:03 AM UTC
she inquires why I write so many poems,
easy comes reply:
It gives me a fantastic living,
it makes and gives, each poem,
a calculation, a reconciliation
of who I am...a miner of the
mineral wealth in my veins
Jul 26, 2020
Jul 26, 2020 at 3:59 PM UTC
Routine tests
failed
Number Four reactor
Walls melt, floor buckles
Gamma disaster
one half million men mill
by the banks of the Dnieper
Level Seven Event
Unprecedented disaster
Flesh sloughed off
Rounding the corner
cellular structure instantly scrambled
eggs toast and jelly
Gaze upon the elephant's foot
Bathe in green glowing brilliant stochastic calculation
Mutant dogs roam the tainted halls of Prypiat
Disparities reflect
true death toll unknown
Concerned Scientists shed their lights
on the encircling environment
Glittering glass carpets coat abandoned streets
Creaking Ferris wheel slowly turns into madness
Toxic twin of Fukushima
Thyroid Leukemia Cellular Damage Tumor
the caustic clouds still settling today
Generation after generation
dead women and children
Global impact particle spread
none have been spared
even into tomorrow.
Jun 14, 2012
Jun 14, 2012 at 5:07 PM UTC
Words upon words spoke in a rapid manner
I listen to him spit out physics
Intelligent, stunning, confusing, and funny
He rambles on about these numbers.
A calculation for this,
A theory for that.
It can explain everything he claims
Science,
It can always be broken down to a science.
I hold on to his every word, and just wonder what equation
Can tell me how he feels.
What does he want
What does he need?
Will he ever have an interest...an interest in me?
I don't mean to sound nerdy
I don't mean to sound cliche
But I believe there is chemistry between us
Our minds are bonding.
Sadly there is no science behind the human emotion.
So I will wait
And try to analyze this boy myself.
Jan 9, 2013
Jan 9, 2013 at 8:15 PM UTC
Dear Calculator
I am in love with you for no reason
My palm slowly touches you
Hardly press you
Again and Again
Again and Again
Finally you bring smile in my face
A smile that could give another smile
or no smile
If no smile is given
Literally I put you down
And face palm
if yes still catches you
Softly and gently
Calculation of taxation to Addition
Pain and sorrow with division to subtraction
My beautiful love with Interrogation
The Chemistry of Derivation is simply Awful
Equation of love is really useful
Yes! Calculator you make my life thoughtful
And the result is always Fruitful
©Saujan Gyawali
11 November 2014
Nov 8, 2014
Nov 8, 2014 at 10:10 AM UTC
I fly through life on autopilot
Do you think they'd ever realize?
I arrive and depart on time
The ground greets me no differently
With no knowledge of my vacancy
Calculation is a constant and lifeline
To connect me with my kind
Kind only in anatomy, general size,
The way we obey parallel lines.
Ground control, do you read me?
Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 2:48 AM UTC
Her Name is Woman
~for Woman~
The body replenishes, even the signs of decay
that come for reparation,
Positive confirmation
her organism survives, alive,
tree circles yet measuring time,
Till a devitalizing time comes, when,
this cellular process concedes degeneration
Then the wondering shifts; new facts sifted;
now the reckoning is not a calculation of
Mortality but of her living immortality;
dive to divine neath her black cloaking, reading
Wounded word revelations, her own Bible stories,
giving nomination to Woman-name
The long shadows that her souls excavations cast,
costs of her stories individual,
Highwaymen robbed her with glass knives
but each remaining black hole lights a story, lost, but
Burning icy inviting, pulling us into book boxes inside,
compost of sheets of composed white clarity
Care not that each riddling reference is obliged to be
oblique, inexplicit,
Woman her name, all encompassing,
her views codified in lines of faith,
Woman, is that not
a mining, and a manifest,
of hidden birthing,
comforting us in warm shades of
Human courage
12/26/18 5:51pm
Dec 26, 2018
Dec 26, 2018 at 5:57 PM UTC
When a beautiful moon was shining in Virgo
And Sun waved hands to me from Aquarius,
I was born exactly mid of noon.
Moon is my heart
where all my emotions are stored
it tends to rise up and down
like our moons delight.
Virgo, a maiden, traveling all alone
Carrying all the storms inside her thoughts.
Well sun not comfortable in Aquarius
Especially in dark Saturn house.
The sign it shows a *** holding the
Bright rays of the sun inside.
Where it shines only inside a ***
without passing away the light outside.
Note. Don't be serious. It’s just my calculation only.
©ALL RIGHTS RESERVED BY GEETHA JAYAKUMAR
© 2014 Geetha Jayakumar
Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 5:55 AM UTC
**A breath before my next step
Actually no
I'm just going to take it
I will not think twice… or worry about whether or not I’ll make it
I'm just going to take it
A calculation before the next leap
Not necessary… I'll just charge with the blind bravado of fighting bull, as opposed to the clueless stupidity of a sheep
And yes, I realize that the blind can be clueless… and the brave can be stupid
But jumping into life is just like jumping into love and either being realistically passionate about it… or believing in Cupid… one of the two is just stupid
Just to clarify, if you actually believe in a chubby flying baby with a bow and arrow… dude?... Stupid!
Anyway, a thought before my next move
Ain't nobody got time for that!… while you're still thinking about it they will shove you out of the way all the while yelling “MOVE!”
You have the ability inside you
Subconsciously, but you can still feel it… it’s quite distinct
Don't overthink it, make the move out of pure instinct
If you can effortlessly do it… the better for you
On the other hand
If you are able to put in more effort, less doubt… allow the faith you have in yourself to stand out
Fill you up with confidence, then understand… it would be better for you
To just stand up, take that step… leap over that obstacle… and outsmart them on the next move, friend... just do it.**
Apr 19, 2013
Apr 19, 2013 at 3:05 AM UTC
Anorexia was the most attentive
Girlfriend anyone could ask for
And I fell hard for her
I fell for for 500 calories a day,
The sense of control it gave me
Compliments from girls I'd never talked to before
Doctors so pleased that I was finally "healthy"
That feeling,
Of stepping on the scale
And realizing that I took up less space
Than when I'd stepped on the day before
The feeling of water hitting an empty stomach
The hunger pangs
That secretly thrilled me
The thrill of the lies
The ones that became ever so easy
To slip off my tongue
The thrill of a secret love affair with death
I fell for an abuser
I fell...
Literally
Bruises lined my body
From bumping into walls
Because my body was so
Malnourished I couldn't
Walk down a hallway
Fell down a rabbit hole-
Fell down into a world I couldn't escape-
Thigh gaps, thinspiration, tips and tricks to
Hide this wonderland in your head
Walking headfirst into Anorexia was like walking
Into a haunted house
It's fun and exhilarating at first
It's a game, it's harmless
And then you realize that the doors
Are barred and it dawns on you
That ringing the doorbell of death
Was not the best idea
I am a study in skinny does not make you happy
The 5 pounds you wanted to lose
Turns to 10
Turns to 20
Turns to...
I am a study in
Every inch of your body being a warzone
Of standing in front of a mirror
Seeing nothing but a piece of meat
Taking up too much space
I am a study in calculation
I am a study in lying
I am a study in not dead, but not alive
I am a study in starvation
I am a study in falling out of love
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 9:15 PM UTC
Her fingers trail my arm with cold calculation,
her laughter as sweet as the deadliest sin.
She looks into my eyes with nothing but determination,
bites my lip and gives a sigh.
She takes what she wants without hesitation,
weaving her magic into the air.
At last I am told that my time is over,
she ***** my soul out without a care.
Dec 13, 2011
Dec 13, 2011 at 1:56 AM UTC
In English,
we’re learning about
Winston and Julia
in 1984, but
it’s 2017
all I want to study is
you.
I want to study less
about the
control and freedom
Big Brother has
and more about
the calculation of your
moves.
I want to study the way
your knuckles could be an
infant’s home, small
hands reaching out
longing for you
or the way the veins in
your arm makes abstract art,
beautiful enough to be showcased
in any gallery.
I understand now why they say
“as pretty as a painting.” Because
you’re as timeless and
breathtaking as
Mona Lisa.
And your blue iris's,
swirl with dark and light
tones with a slight
a golden glint,
I could stare into them for longer
than any
Starry Night.
Maybe,
I’m just better suited to an art class.
I want to learn the primaries
so I can swirl them all together and
get your dark brown hair.
I want to add the most expensive
white, so I can paint the
faint freckles on your nose and
I want to mix blue and red adding water
until the colour is a perfect match
for the faintest birthmark
on your shoulder.
Instead of the History of Russia,
I want to learn the History
of you.
I want to learn what makes you smile
and what makes you cry.
I want to study you,
I use each brush stroke to
perfect your skin,
each pen writes down
notes until
I have a whole book
full of each heartbreak,
so I can learn a lesson
in you.
Dec 4, 2017
Dec 4, 2017 at 8:04 AM UTC
I scream
as unrealistic apprehensions
distort my perception.
A phenomenon!
Discretion dissection,
every line you
sing-
rings solely
of deception.
Complex and intricate-
a "homicidal contemplation."
A mathematical equation,
dividing every claim,
my undeniable calculation.
Allude confrontation,
as lying eyes recite,
despite self validation.
My fear, it-
dwells here,
amongst the impatient.
Perplexed and deranged,
I am your-
"recycled replacement."
Jan 24, 2011
Jan 24, 2011 at 12:15 PM UTC
Look out here
It comes
Sum of someone's sums
Perverse calculation
Trigonometry as sensation
Graphic illustration
Of a pre-ordained mathematic
Desire
Intersexual intellectual
Pythagorean triangle of lust Figures
Add and attract
Add and subtract
Add and subtract
This physical abstract
To form the total goal
To fit the math of a
Human hole
Aug 3, 2016
Aug 3, 2016 at 6:15 PM UTC
PYTHAGORAS planned it. Why did the people stare?
His numbers, though they moved or seemed to move
In marble or in bronze, lacked character.
But boys and girls, pale from the imagined love
Of solitary beds, knew what they were,
That passion could bring character enough,
And pressed at midnight in some public place
Live lips upon a plummet-measured face.
No! Greater than Pythagoras, for the men
That with a mallet or a chisel" modelled these
Calculations that look but casual flesh, put down
All Asiatic vague immensities,
And not the banks of oars that swam upon
The many-headed foam at Salamis.
Europe put off that foam when Phidias
Gave women dreams and dreams their looking-glass.
One image crossed the many-headed, sat
Under the tropic shade, grew round and slow,
No Hamlet thin from eating flies, a fat
Dreamer of the Middle Ages. Empty eyeballs knew
That knowledge increases unreality, that
Mirror on mirror mirrored is all the show.
When gong and conch declare the hour to bless
Grimalkin crawls to Buddha's emptiness.
When Pearse summoned Cuchulain to his side.
What stalked through the post Office? What intellect,
What calculation, number, measurement, replied?
We Irish, born into that ancient sect
But thrown upon this filthy modern tide
And by its formless spawning fury wrecked,
Climb to our proper dark, that we may trace
The lineaments of a plummet-measured face.
April 9,
2.3k
Fifteen inches LCD
Electronic mouse
And bunch of scratches of sheets.
There were roof lines
Valleys and ridges
Encircling the overlapping layers
Some are frozen, some are hidden.
Estimation and calculation
Uttering numbers
With various actions.
3D walls
Inserting commands
Subtracting openings
Including doors and windows.
The formula was easy
To multiply and subdivide
Real aesthetical features
Future renovation
For firm edification.
(6/30/14 @xirlleelang)
Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 11:01 AM UTC
They stuff cotton down your mouth
Because it’s the only thing that doesn't choke you
When they try to muffle your sounds out
But you scream with your eyes better than you
Ever did with words
It’s a sharp sound that hurts to look at
And you knew that contradictions were the best arguments
you said “Arguments are the best way to show someone
How much you love them because
you are giving them your words
And that is the best thing to give.” disagreement said “Or you could give em’
Some of your M&M;’s.”
They hung mosaics of your destruction on the walls and called it “Art”
So you punched a hole through your bathroom mirror and called it “Creation”
Spent the fourth day naming your shards “Zues” “Cordelia”. Saved the sharpest one
And called it “Helen”, said “Pain only ever hurts when its beautiful.” Disagreement said
“You’re a ****** up sadomasochistic *****
On the fifth day you dreamt your father held you
Except it wasn't your father it was a ********** who found you
frozen to a street light
On the sixth day you called me and said: “I have a name for creation;
It’s destruction.”
On the seventh day they found you praying to the images on a TV screen
Holding onto a mathematical calculation in your hand
Calling it the formula to happiness
The numbers spelled out
D R U G S
Jan 10, 2013
Jan 10, 2013 at 4:52 PM UTC
This poem is going to be a lie
He tells himself
Writhing in tantalizing filaments
The bright asphyxiation drawing him closer and closer
To this
An ideal
Of the perfect truth
Told out in unwritten song
Painfully typed words
A clever shower of meteors
Belittling the dangerous craters on the surface
The danger of tripping and dying
Not withstanding what we know to be
A falicy
My multilingual interpretation of her feelings
Old testimonies heard in the court
Of the already guilty
This poem is a complete distortion of facts
My trivial response to empowered individuals
Standing on my Adam's Apple
And beating on my lungs like drums
Rhythm meaning honor
And the attention of the onlookers meaning
The inviting glow
Of the fireplace.
She sat down next to
That night
That town
That unfamiliar castigating of a child not belonging to
You
Or her
Or the abyss
"Unbelonging"
"Inbelonging"
Not. Yours.
The wordsmith falters
Checking his math
Calculation, equation, kiss on the cheek
For luck for death
For the noose to slip, lovingly
And gently to the ground as the trap door swings open
A great, open toothed smile
Laughing at silence
BARBARIC to interrupt such delicacy
Straining to look into my eyes
She whispers low
I want to find a home...
And i tell her, with my heaviest conviction
"No home is."
Which could mean anything.
This poem is a verisimilitude
A lie about a truth
Which, again...
Could mean anything...
Jan 9, 2012
Jan 9, 2012 at 12:33 PM UTC
What is maintenance? My life has to be cold,
planned, full of calculation. Otherwise, what?
Otherwise, I'll be old at thirty-five, bold, but too close
to a tragic slip, toes in the grass by open graves,
when peers gather, grow on pavement past the gates.
My life has to be cold, planned, full of calculation.
Otherwise, the most vital, underlying systems
yell in warning lights, compromised. You may
not think it problematic, but I can't interpret
signs of my demise already six feet down,
now can I? That's why I (we): clean, sort,
scrub, update outdated thoughts, as if
otherwise, I (we) cut the years I'll (we'll)
survive.
Open my chest for me, you,
lovely human you. Your
scent rises through the rain.
Could I live the way you live,
I would. But I can't, and I know that.
So let me react to your input,
open my chest for me
open my chest for me
open my chest for me
open me
Jul 7, 2017
Jul 7, 2017 at 6:58 PM UTC
distress men
distress women the children follow suit
rooted to their calculation
pick-pitted-
minds-eye-
bore-hole n' punction
functional ? they ponder the fault idling in their programs din
rescue them ?
their fearsome egos will gum you up
tup and rupture your goodwill
despair man
despair woman the children groping at their heels
sealed and merry mated to the manner spools that habit
rabbits and fools back into the boil
assess
make a meal
displace them ?
their otherworldly longings ?
wrong them welcome into your loving bloom
this is how its done
here's a catalogue
how big you've won
better gig than landing on the moon
distrust man
deface woman the children drink from the wound
battle become the saviour
behaviour shot against the mood
food to greet the newly batched cultural result
faulty
worthy of mention
the soiled spell
going to drown though the generations
recreation
just trust the serpent eye
and the lens of peddling assault holds everything to its station
for a jittering moment
for a breakable moment
a disgraced monument
bereft fidgeting in its place
Sep 23, 2022
Sep 23, 2022 at 9:49 AM UTC
Spinning and spinning
Six little circles
Flushing a life down the drain
Naught but a smidgen of straining, my pidgeon,
A blurr to the vision, euphoric, no pain
My brain,
Will just shut down
I’ll get
Out of this town
The rain
Gonna pour down and wash me away
Whirling and twirling
My heart in the middle
Graphing the pathway to get the right spin
Crisp calculation, the subtle equation
Causing elation, at last cashing-in
Your brain,
Will just shut down
You'll get
Out of this town
The rain
Gonna pour down and wash you away
You must be THIS tall to ride this ride
It’s your human RIGHT to a nice
suicide
This celestial plane, ...and all of it’s
strife
We can help you jump past it,
It’s YOUR ******* life!
It’s all in your hands.
You know what to do.
Now is the time
To become the late YOU
Your brain
Will just shut down
You'll get
Out of this town
The rain
Gonna pour down and wash you away
My paradigm’s shifting
The veil is lifting
What was I thinking
My heart rate is sinking
And something is stinking
My consciousness shrinking
And what is that ringing
Do I hear choirs singing?
-
Julijonas
Fancy yourself the angel-reaper?
Julijonas Urbonas
Aren't you your brother’s keeper?
Is this just a "what-if", ...for fun?
O Julijonas
Julijonas Urbonas
…What have you done?
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 6:44 PM UTC
hit with the brush of heat and the super likes
i light my cigarette and lean on my phone and
a 90s volkswagen parked next to a brand new prius
tell me don't make me wait forever, superman
is this what you want, things are changing all around us
and i could have sworn i was doing okay (finally) when
i was without you, before i even noticed your eyes
i was with trevor after class and i could've sworn
you opened your locker after i caught you staring at me
today i walked outside without your hand in mine
and i didn't know what to do with it at all
not speak of such conviction that i think the same thing
that i could be better not knowing what you're doing
who you're seeing, who your sleeping with in cold calculation
the revenge of symbols rearranging themselves
into a broken heart, summer's round the corner
and i'm wasting away thinking about you again and again
May 4, 2018
May 4, 2018 at 12:13 AM UTC
the surgical procedure required to probe into your
skull is way too difficult for me. how difficult is it to
learn how to examine the thoughts you conjure up,
like arithmetic or magic. the stem cutters to pull the
dead roots out of you are dull, like the color of dead
coral or fishes that don't see sunlight. maybe the fishes
just don't swim to the surface too often. if i would have
seen your arsenal and armory before i dedicated every
inch of my pointless existence of a heart to you, every
hour of my life wouldn't hold disdain and regret for you.
the only difference between us and a car crash was that
the shrapnel and glass was our shattered memories.
the hairline fractures that are burned into my wrist's bones
have turned into full blown fragments eradicated from the
ligaments. i've seen fall, winter, spring, and summer meet
all in the same day because of you. you are an impossible
calculation, a lobotomy no pet scanner can recognize.
- kra
May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 7:20 PM UTC
the humiliation
attempting multiplication
is a discrimination
filling all emotions with frustration
trying to send help of communication
to a genius
showing no blood relation
in a habitation where Ax and Bx showing a result of Cx
introducing a collaboration
with letters sends a illustration
to the mind causing hallucination
just a pigment of imagination
slight vibration
desperately needing a detoxification
of education
to wrap your thoughts around this generation
seeking the need for popularization
but the mind is in a mental restriction
start a petition
to conquer the satan of calculation
but so far no documentation
of the closed corporation
of the mad minded mathematician
so you're living in devastation
suffering while you work at a gas station
from no graduation
or thoughtful congratulations
all because you forgot the capitalization
for a math symbol
on a test
because of the lack of specification
Make a reservation
for the realization
that math
does not
always make
sense.
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 7:14 PM UTC