"conjectures" poems
O Geometry,
How I loathe the,
with thy prisms and proofs,
and thy figures and formulas,
and thy compasses and conjectures!
Why must thou require such mental strain?
- Wait,
What's that you say?
Calculus next?
O my dearest Geometry,
How I adore thy common sense and logic-based nature!
How I dread the day when we shall be forced to part!
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 10:12 PM UTC
Coffee , cake and tea
Where are all the Jonquills
March has come late
Without a yellow promise
Without a breath of warm air
The sea is shallow
Without shells
Just goes on and on
Not even up to my knees
And she talks of heresy
Conjectures , probabilities
On and on and
On and on
Fools make mistakes
Wise men err
To one man the sun sets
Another rises to the occasion
Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 11:50 PM UTC
You and I
A song that started clumsily, mid-stumble, then fell into a beautiful flurry of violins playing lithe.
It’s a Shakespearean epic draped in a cheap suit of modern conjectures that caught my eye.
You and I
It’s climbing up a mountain-side, daring & tempestuous -cherishing every moment, not just the peak, but the hike.
Even as you’re pushing so hard its hurts to breathe, the air so thin your gasps are overlapping fighting for air– you’ll die if you quit, having the time of your life.
You and I
Seeing sheet-music for your favorite tune, as an illiterate fool, but somehow feeling the rhythm and time.
It’s enticing & startling, it’s the smell of privet-hedge and pine –familiar, refreshing, & divine.
It’s you and I.
Aug 21, 2014
Aug 21, 2014 at 1:58 PM UTC
AOK: Mathematics
By Rohan Baishya
Now listen up y'all imma give y'all a lecture
About how my intuition led to some dope conjectures.
But to verify these knowledge claims I'll need a proof,
No need to worry though, my logic's up through the roof.
I'll steal yo girl with my geometric paradigms.
Not to mention my bank balance is on a sharp incline.
Imma use derivatives to find the slope of that *****
Euclid used geometry, what a big loony.
Now Pythagoras used deduction to find the sides of triangles,
Now I can use induction to find the curves of this fine-angle.
So listen up homie, you're a bore with your empiricism;
I can explain everything with this dank rationalism.
Now math ain't 'bout using memory to cram some equations,
It's all about getting that intense sensation
of using reason to season your supported argument
but sometimes to calculate my Lambo's rent.
But now imma be busy with my new calculator via Fed-ex
So listen up girls, no *** until I solve for x
In conclusion, math is the secret to success
If you believe in the numbers you'll be relieving your stress.
Word
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 12:27 PM UTC
The sun sempiternal shepherds its flock life-longly. Repetition be its brother, night be its foe. As regurgitation fumes, funneling heinous broth of decay and hostility, the tedium drips ashore, clenching its claws, raising the congregation of lunatics hellwards and in a moment of inseparable divisionism, bursts out loud, hardening the ground with desecration. Outbegotten and throughbrought, the once ****** ******* feral sons to the demented deity all above and none below, in turning, swirling and the ever-prying agony, facilitate themselves a house atop a hill. After the cacophony concludes, The Fool finds himself standing, thrice woven, wolfmeadow thrown, fistlike tenacity hit, once beholden to each beast of coppered glow. Up he reaches, but finding nought and disillusioned with disinterest he breaks down in acid tears and horrid shrieks for mercy. The inward calibre reciprocates and bursts out a tubular noise of contradiction. In all still-standing, the Queen, she of the all-overseeing, turns to The Fool and parlours him a wisdom: "I am unto you as a universe is unto itself. I am within you as this earth is within me. I am you and you I shall stay. And when you at once turn dust-wards, I shall, bereft but forthlooking, beget you again." Aghast with sudden agonising fragility and from the cosmic incantation a ghost arisen, The Fool in all his momentarily found glory and happiness conjectures himself a vessel to venture upon. What he once missed he now resides in. He found it and now he rejoices. To Youth, at long once and at once forever.
Sep 5, 2019
Sep 5, 2019 at 12:36 PM UTC
The dreamy eye lashes of your eyes
When they meet,
The soft wisps of your hair
When they fly,
The quiver of your lips
When you feel shy,
The spell of your smile
When it comes by
Stirs the void in me.
Resurrects the dream.
And my heart,
Then embarks on a flight
Of myriad conjectures
Only to stumble
And fall
In the abyss
Of lustful hope.
.. Yet again.
Mar 5, 2015
Mar 5, 2015 at 1:26 AM UTC
I believe what is true but knows not truth
Instead I feel truth is what I believed
Most believe what they feel, instinctively
But I, without reasons, cannot believe
Alas reasons found on self evidence
As in what is and is not cannot be
Conjectures they are if truly honest
But axioms worked in all mathematics
Is truth then not of reason but of faith?
For does not ear test words as tongue tastes food?
Surely then we do have some means to know
Even so, must not faith be tested true?
For faith is circular: a conviction
Compelled by strength and conviction of will;
A will constrained, by flesh, susceptible
To unknown beings in spiritual realms
But what if this being is God? And faith,
Conviction of the certainty of things,
Holy Spirit’s gift, marking election,
Affirming justification in God.
Truth by two or more witnesses is sure
Do we attest the Holy Spirit true?
A blasphemous thought perhaps, but prophets
Led to lie to kings and shown to be false.
Thus ignorant sages showed assurance
Lies solely in God’s grace, mercy and love
And in his faithfulness to the elect
Declared in Israel again and again
In my search for truth, I was led to faith,
The faithfulness of God, truth’s ultimate rock
His gifts unchanging, irrevocable
And confirms the fear of the Lord is truth
Aug 5, 2019
Aug 5, 2019 at 4:37 AM UTC
Ms Dolittle was giving her cuppa a sip
Her beady eyes drowned in deep brood
Last night she didn’t get enough sleep
The morning found her in a grumpy mood.
She had never seen them in all her years
Though read or heard about sightings
Dismissed them as mere conjectures
The believers’ flight on fantasy wings!
It might be the moonlight playing mischief with her
The moon can fool with such eerie nightly designs
Or maybe had a peg too many she couldn’t remember
She wasn’t unaccustomed to swigs of grapevines.
Whatever, she saw it clear not imagined in her head
The silhouette of her husband on the curtained window
Something she wouldn’t wish away as merely moon-made
He stood there upright waving to her in the moon’s glow.
Ms Dolittle brave as she is didn’t swoon or pass out
Just lay there motionless without rising to the summon
It was her husband about that she had no doubt
For in a troubled voice it said, ‘Come on’.
So there he was troubled for not having her company
And it was precisely what was worrying her
She had no idea with him how she could be
She wasn’t yet booked for traveling that far!
Nov 29, 2013
Nov 29, 2013 at 7:21 AM UTC
There’s no point in going to bed
Or closing the shutters on my eyes
Because I believe that sleep is for the dead
And rest I don’t prioritize
There is no American noise
When everyone else is quietly slumbering
One of my favorite parts about three AM
Is peace and tranquil wondering
My brain is like a pair of eyes
And the optometrist is changing the lens
Conjectures and notions are out of focus
Here and there and back again
My mind is an untuned radio
Thoughts, an endless garble of static
I’m swimming in between the airwaves
And my body functions are automatic
Languor sometimes hits me
Like a wave crashing on a shore
But soon enough it has dissipated
As if it was never there before
Count the circles ‘round my eyes
Like the rings on an ancient tree
How many sleepless nights am I at now?
Because melatonin is an escapee.
My spirit is miles and miles away
Wandering where it wants to
If only someone would bring it back
Since sleep is long past overdue.
Jan 25, 2018
Jan 25, 2018 at 6:56 PM UTC
Twisted recollections
Superficial self-esteem
Boorish charms exceeded
Only by a dream
So cocky is the strut
That often shows the stature
For the nature of the beast
Becomes its hidden disaster
Calculating deeper calamity
To justify split design
Depicting cheaper denominations
Harden psyches face decline
Epithetical clichés inanimately
Falling like all conjectures
But no closer to actuations
Only changes without measure
Jan 7, 2014
Jan 7, 2014 at 3:24 PM UTC
problematic is the renewal of my soul,
systematic is my need to be evolved.
quite listless are the streaming roads
leading to the ends of this weary world.
now breeding are conjectures in my skull,
still breathing is my life - soothing cold,
with this possession in dispossession
tearing up my vile flesh and decrepit bones.
soon forgetting to be adorned
laughs will soon start to be heard,
once the fluent waters of the flood
swallow up the darkness it's become.
give me reason, i undergo deep sleep
live forever and give side to my good and dear
soul.
May 24, 2013
May 24, 2013 at 3:26 PM UTC
If Love is a Drug,
maybe
I'm actually abusing you?
Apr 30, 2013
Apr 30, 2013 at 11:07 AM UTC
All I ever wanted was to feel the bliss of nothingness on my shoulders
and at last I can truly recognize a semblance of happiness.
What it is like to wade through life alone
without the yearning for spectacular conjectures
to refute any particular notions of my waning smiles.
Just born, but barely worn down
and I still have miles to give
and seasons to learn.
Sep 3, 2012
Sep 3, 2012 at 1:05 AM UTC
To presume to write to someone about courage
and not complaining, don't importune or make dying people cry.
I've always said Leave me alone with autumn.
Don't stand around my bed, I won't be in it.
Over 7 years after he died, I finally looked
through my father's papers. Couple of unclaimed insurance policies,
savings bonds, our genealogy and on graph paper in an engineer's
block lettering quotations from The Seat of the Soul.
Reincarnation and karma are the chicken soup of the soul,
the after life is the reward for our colossal imperfections.
Along with banking instructions, he'd underlined
this: Your soul is immortal. It exists
outside of time. It has no beginning and no end.
Every time you ask for guidance you receive it.
If we are not at home in the world, contributing purpose,
we lose our desire to stay here -- and we die.
The physical world is an unaccountable given in which we
unaccountably
find ourselves and which we strive to dominate to survive
or it is a learning environment created jointly by the souls that share it
and everything that occurs within it serves our learning.
Sin is activity directed toward self rather than toward service
to others. Sickness is sin. Almost any condition can be corrected.
You are part of God, therefore, think in a godly manner.
If you cannot accept this, forget it all. Do not even begin.
The first act of free will: How do I wish to learn?
If we participate in the cause, it is impossible not to participate in the
effect.
We shall come to honor all of life sooner or later.
Until you become aware of the effects of your anger, you will
continue to be an angry person.
Walking is the most commonly suggested exercise. Also, breathing.
"Thy will be done." Concentrate on that!
These expressions of certainty, conjectures and guesses
were inscribed by him in block letters on graph paper.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 6:50 PM UTC
Just fractured textures
Excerpts of memories,
Forgotten conjectures
Trapped in space and time;
Just figments of rendered sectors
that I’ve assembled to fabricate
my reality beyond measure
I’m tethered but the pressure
Never lessens whatsoever
Forever endeavoring to sever my essence
Or consciousness altogether
The splendor of the Nether
Whether it’s my pleasure to ever enter
Or remain a lonely specter
destined to beg the question,
but plagued to always remember
I invent scenarios in my head
And fantasize how I long to be dead
While conceptualizing my grave end
Though I dread the inevitable attempt
The hand I’m dealt lost in the shuffle
My walls crumble deciphering life’s puzzles
Disillusioned with the hustle and bustle
Solutions come full circle at the bottom of a bottle
Mental status: unstable
Cerebral stasis turns tables
Visibly miserable and unable
To cope without the love of my chemical savior
From the apex, I’m ready to sail
While failing to grasp what all it entails
I steadily hide intent in my tales
In my dreams I’m haunted
since leaving the cradle
Life is beautifully frail
I see myself dancing in the portrayal
with the reaper as the main feature
veiled together in a cerebral theater
Patterns intertwine
In fashioned structures
I slumber and suffer
Painting caricatures
Of a perfect life
I yearn to capture
In lustrous colors
That fail to convert
Jul 31, 2019
Jul 31, 2019 at 7:40 AM UTC
Social media's intent was to spread authentic information among people but a few motivated by their selfish motives used it to generate those flocks which easily form conjectures just on the basis of baseless accusations disseminated from unknown sources and keep on barking with profanities on others.
Sep 30, 2020
Sep 30, 2020 at 8:13 AM UTC
we'll feel-
as collegiate corners
are filling the pages of
our tragedies.
i attempt to seek
next century's repose:
the motion of a thousand
spinning conjectures.
your restlessness holds
junction and duration,
consciously screaming of our
former years.
i'll seek-
you in oscillations
and what little you
left of memory.
Sep 23, 2018
Sep 23, 2018 at 12:25 AM UTC
When you asked if I'd like to get coffee, I knew if I went
that it would be the last time that I would see you
for the first time. I went anyways.
After I saw you there, sitting with your friends,
I realized all my previous conjectures were fashionably wrong.
Things started to become clear when your knee
settled against mine, and our eyes locked fatally
for the first time.
It was then I began to fathom that I wanted
to touch you how you turn the pages of a book
when you're lost between the words.
It occurred to me that you could read
the names and dates and causes
of death off a gravestone, and
I would still sit and listen to the way
that your voice collides with
all that empty space.
The one thing I knew I would never be able
to do was put you into words. Yet here I am,
trying anyways.
May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 12:19 AM UTC
__Canto I: Before the beginning__
St. Augustine was asked, "What happened before creation?"
He replied, time is a part of creation--
if there is no time, there is no before.
Now many conjectures--
We don't really know, but Augie could be right.
__Canto II: The earliest and furthest we can see__
400,000 years after the beginning,
the atomic plasma combined, and light broke free of matter.
3000 degrees then, 3 degrees now, expanding and cooling--
The Cosmic Microwave Background: escaped light, fiat lux.
__Canto III: The big bang starting point__
Dense, hot spacetime with physics different from ours.
What is to become the visible universe is the size of a proton
(give or take).
Separation and emergence of the four forces, gravity first.
All the energy of the universe is present--
It's all in a low entropy state,
primed for almost unimaginable transformations
__Canto IV: Inflation, an evidence supported theory of crazy expansion__
Superluminal expansion of spacetime.
In an instant, inflation begins and ends, from proton-sized to inches.
Within spacetime the speed of light is energy's maximum,
but need spacetime itself be so limited?
We don't know the full extent of spacetime, just what we can backtrack.
After inflation, a coasting slowing expansion begins
__Canto V: Particle creation and cooling__
Age of subatomic particles--
Is this when dark matter appears or is it already there?
Quark creation, fusion and confinement into particles.
Neutrons, protons and others.
Recognizable physics processes occur.
Cooling, coasting expansion.
__Canto VI: Normal matter__
Protons, electrons and photons appear in a hot plasma state.
With cooling, electrons are captured and atoms appear.
Light, with fewer charged particles to dance with,
leaves matter behind to create the Cosmic Microwave Background.
Free at last!
__Canto VII: Changes slow, but expansion continues and then spurts__
Clouds of matter, normal and dark, gravitational compaction.
Two billion years: Proto-galaxies and stars form
Things are starting to look normal.
Feeding on dark energy, expansion speeds up. Surprise!
Galactic accretion continues
__Canto VIII: Life__
Four billion and a half years ago earth forms.
Less than a billion years later, there is life.
Are we special? Does life exist elsewhere?
The visible universe is 14 billion years "old" and counting.
Everywhere we look we see uniformity:
We may not be alone.
__Canto IX: The end?__
All distant terrible fates:
Don't worry, be happy!
Oct 29, 2020
Oct 29, 2020 at 7:36 AM UTC
I had that need to communicate, before I knew what I was going to say
I knew what You meant to me and I knew I was sad
But nothing seemed to say what I wanted you to hear
I knew I was missing you and I knew you missed her
But I thought just for a minute that you might've been my cure
I knew I'd been hurt: left thinking one thing but you brought me to believe in another
I thought I knew not to love but I guess I forgot
I thought I could assume you'd be more than a man I'd have to tolerate
I thought I knew never to assume, but I guess I expected I would've been more careful
So I might have had thoughts but I guess I wasn't thinking:
Im at the same place I was then
Im closer to who I was, now then who I've recently been
Im in the same pair of shoes I swore Id never have to wear again
But despite all cautiousness, you're now not only my past but the pain of my future
Maybe I shouldn't have anticipated your love
Perhaps that would have subsided some of the peer pressure
Possibly that could have brought us closer
All I know is that we could've been happy, but you chose her
And now Im stuck accepting your convoluted conjectures
Mostly because your so scared of the unfamiliar.
Apr 1, 2012
Apr 1, 2012 at 10:51 PM UTC
“At the center of our being is a point of nothingness which is untouched by sin and by illusion, a point of pure truth, a point or spark which belongs entirely to God. It is like a pure diamond, blazing with the invisible light of heaven. It is in everybody, and if we could see it, we would see these billions of points of light coming together in the face and blaze of a sun that would make all the darkness and cruelty of life vanish completely ... I have no program for this seeing. It is only given. But the gate of heaven is every- where.”
― Thomas Merton, Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander
Surprising God, how does one surprise God?
I have heard the door or gate is not locked; it is always open.
Every day I think of Mike,
he told me about the river boat he was on,
the murky river water, many small boats alongside,
action all around. He was a sailor on a ship,
what the hell was he doing on a river boat,
he often asked, even now.
Can’t remember the name of the river,
but it was Nam…
You come home from war… you are different now.
No one seems to know that, “but glad your back bro,” they say. Yes, you are home, but then there is the addiction, not of killing but of forgetting.
The time comes to report, remembering one’s service, out in the woods, away from it all.
There is that standing at attention, hair and beard trimmed, at muster for the last time…
There was a strange silence afterwards,
How does one surprise God?
I have heard the door or gate is not locked; it is always open.
Dec 9, 2020
Dec 9, 2020 at 11:43 PM UTC
not good enough to be in your band
or join your basketball team
but good enough
to spectate or be your water boy
not good enough
to pass your classes academically
but good enough to receive a passing grade
for participation that helped me graduate
so I’d be out of your hair
not good enough
to break bread with you at the lunch table
because our parents made different salaries
but good enough
to be put down when you needed a laugh
or to feel better about yourself
not good enough
to answer back when I needed your help
but good enough
to be a nostalgic crutch when you need someone
to lean on
I’ve only been good enough
to stand in front of your machines,
to fill out your paperwork,
to sweep your floors
but not good enough
to advance at this job or in this society
and now I’ve found myself conquering the world
despite your predictions, despite your conjectures
despite your criticism, despite your disparaging remarks.
I have made myself who I am today based on the indifference
towards your humiliation, your rejections, your rebukes
so, if you see me on the streets and I don’t say “hi”
it just means you weren’t worthy of acknowledging
and if I give you the sharp eye and spit in the trash can
it only means I’ve forgotten about you completely
and that is good enough for me.
Mar 20, 2025
Mar 20, 2025 at 11:56 AM UTC
Waiting is the worst,
The unknown is what comes first.
It creeps and crawls,
Your mood leaps and falls.
Conjectures and what if’s,
Like your sanity fell off a cliff.
It eats away at what your all about,
And you give in to these doubts.
Dark and alone,
Cowboy **** *** and a telephone.
Something more to get by,
It's not there and you don’t know why.
One is a prime number and two is an even,
Together is greater and thats a reason.
Time stands still, slumber won’t come.
Nowhere to run.
Everything you can’t see isn’t quite enough,
God ****** its tough.
Morning comes eventually to those who wait,
Not everything is left to fate.
A deed done isn’t gone until your heart makes it so,
Even when you just want it to ******* go.
Theres always hope and Like a rock I’ll be here,
Weathering this rain and waiting for you to shine dear.
Please don’t forget, all my love is yours to get.
Feb 15, 2011
Feb 15, 2011 at 12:00 AM UTC
A silent rendition,
A drama of humans with their brains,
Dire consequences of a guiltless game,
Loosing oneself to this endless paranoia.
Provocative minds, useless disjunctions,
Fanciful conjectures, truth less indignities.
Welcome to the Human Condition.
Welcome to Earth,
Our Alma Mater
Third Planet from the Sun,
Wherein humans,
Bountiful, Knowledge seeking,
Long for The Truth
To set them free.
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 1:07 PM UTC