"deduce" poems
You're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen.
And I know that.
But I can't rediscover it every ******* day.
I can't return to that epiphany
every time my alarm clock goes off.
It's unnatural.
But what I can do, and do quite naturally,
is become jaded and unimpressed by it.
I can see your beauty as normal,
as one of my life's many constants.
I can climb atop its shoulders and travel about,
rolling my eyes at sunsets and rainbows,
dismissing all the beauty of the world as
less than average.
And I complain to you about it.
And you can deduce your beauty from that.
Nov 18, 2015
Nov 18, 2015 at 11:19 AM UTC
Light the Endearing Youth she introduce
Of Trouble Death's Warrant I cannot spell
Meet me this haply; Your Mind I deduce
Transform a Stranger to a Friend so well
I know you Love him. In Degree of Soul
That a Year's Promotion is not enough
The Author advices his Name; In Truth
So merry comfort your Will to adopt
See? Now he prepares for his Loved Event
Inspired by the Contract for his Dad
If I were you, wear those Sprint-Shoes you spent
And chase the Best Moment you ever had.
Once it's done, come set your feet by this stool
And let me rub-in some Herbs to be cool.
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 5:06 AM UTC
How does one deduce bravery?
By the weight of the task
or the severity of the situation?
No.
One succeeds in such a scenario by
their sheer sense of confidence
in their own actions.
Know
and you shall succeed.
Nov 15, 2011
Nov 15, 2011 at 4:12 PM UTC
The makers make
Everything
From everything
Hands into the void
Shaping matter
Parsing out particles
Passing electrical
Synapses to deduce
And reduce
Experience
To the simplest rules
Then changing the laws
Of science
Not god
But humanity
Making meaning
From the chaos
Imposing order
Through logic
The saving grace
Of this human race
Mar 3, 2015
Mar 3, 2015 at 12:52 PM UTC
Unluckily, I am an offspring of two different genotypes,
For it, I so often face the reverse apartheid by a faction,
That faction particular is omnipresent in this nation.
Unseemingly, extremely patriotic I do feel except during cricket,
They look, at my face and deduce that I am not one of them,
That I speak their tongue more eloquently doesn't count..
Up North, they think that my nose is a bit like a Dravidian,
But down South, they often think that I am an Aryan,
That boycotts me in this land of the Indian nation...
Oct 14, 2016
Oct 14, 2016 at 6:24 AM UTC
A drop of snow on the face of the sun
a stone throw from the rainbow
fondly close over the tulip colour stroke
next to the Snow White's looking mirror?
What a sniff it gotten on the way?
Turquoise butterfly is on the fly
up on the top floor is lapis lazuli sky.
Did it not only deduce the hunger pang
time is on the run took the breath away
even forgot the death maybe an inch away!
Aug 29, 2022
Aug 29, 2022 at 11:40 PM UTC
From everyone you talk to
you say you want the truth
yet when I demand it from you
you vehemently refuse.
Does the rule only apply
to others but not to you?
If so, why bother imposing
if you don’t follow it too?
How can there be order
if this is what you do?
If anything, it’s insane!
That, can’t you deduce?
If you really value truth
then you must be, yourself,
practising such honesty
in every story you tell.
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 11:34 PM UTC
They say the ties that bind, wither towards the end
Their witty mottos downplay the love of a friend
“The blood of the covenant,” the adage remains still frozen,
“Flows much thicker than the water of the womb.”
And therefore they deduce: our loyalties reduce
And family only matters when it is chosen.
But the blood relations between man’s nations
Groan under the strain of their bond
For who would have thought that brothers were not
By long and far man’s best creation.
Oct 2, 2022
Oct 2, 2022 at 12:56 PM UTC
I see you
I see others
I see everyone
And, I see you again
Time after time,
I ponder
What lures you apart?
Is there something?
Is there anything?
But time after time
I conclude
That cloning has surely begun.
I deduce
That no man is diverse
No woman either
No children, no parents.
We’re all similar
We’re all striving to be identical
Indifferent to the essentials of our soul
Indifferent to the necessities of our individuality
We endeavor to be parallel, analogous
To be the flock
To be the herd
To be the pack
Mar 3, 2013
Mar 3, 2013 at 2:50 AM UTC
why as a species
have we consistently
empowered the enfeebled
allowed them to lead the way
what does that say about us
when what sets us apart
is our ability to deduce
we need to stop and decide
if we are the right animal
for the top of the food chain
as i suspect we taste
better than we think
Apr 24, 2016
Apr 24, 2016 at 12:44 PM UTC
a plain poem (the first time I came in you)
a plain poem, light and effervescent, a flim-flan tasting,
plein de absurde rimes, full of nonsensical rhymes,
a lattice of criss crossing pastry sugary lines, the ones,
cannot, struggle to deduce, induce, reduce
from my constipated vocabulary
oh well
~
*the first time I came in you,
entered, bidden welcome,
suffused a bridge between
the party of the first part,
the party of the second part,
sugar lightness airy nonsense,
two spirits dancing the singular
pas de deux of their finite lives,
a performance unbeatable,
unrepeatable,
lost to the perfection annals
Shockingly, Surprisingly, Summarily,
did not compose an ode,
don't mine a new vein of ore,
even write a plain poe poem
as best can recall,
at the candle melting of the
sealing wax of the deal,
gave an honest speech,
instantly falling fast asleep
with nary a grunted word
ever since l,
cannot write of plain love plainly,
so she makes me pay with a
new living elegant elegy daily,
a quatrain, what a pain,
this iambic panting meter
love poem writing
jeez louise,
how I wish could write of
roses red and violets blue,
get back to sleep,
oh well then,
back to work
got to make those sad moans,
hers, go away,
so please excuse me
near ten years later,
still paying the dues of the
initializing error of my way
she rumbles-mumbles in her
pre-awakening dream state,
so please excuse, got to go, think up
some implicated complicated
verses to soothe away
her simple poorly hidden anxieties
you see,
I am happy paying
on and on,
writing like the devil furious,
she is stirring, coffee soon,
cafe au lait
if you get my meaning,
but still cannot beat,
repeat, re-alive
that simple plain living poem notated,
when first I came in her*
<•;)
9/24/17 6:49am ~7:17am
Sep 24, 2017
Sep 24, 2017 at 7:29 AM UTC
the woman disregards
what's best for me,
( See http://hellopoetry.com/poem/bus-poems-victuals-victim/ )
gives me with kind regard,
what's best for me,
for this is the kindness
that hallmarks
the long lasting kind
bring before your childlike tap tap attention wains,
a treatise on leftover chicken wings
and other such nonsensical
finger food additions,
purposed
to inspire, to find innovation,
in expressing, reclaiming and newly exclaiming
that miscreant four letter word
that appears in the other 99% of les ecrivants
(See the notes)
in some poem writ recent,
pontificated that the
most overused three words,
yes, those abused three,
degraded by overuse,
losing their poetic juice
thru constant repetition,
being nearly
boringly indecent,
even when
boldly italicized,
the impact upon the reader
is in the realm of
"oh yeah, that's nice for you"
Better to be best in show,
deduce how,
to demonstrate
rather than insistently remonstrate,
new ways every day
to say
chicken wings means..
you know what...
Some get tea and oranges,
others get cherished
when our repast is twice recast,
when she feeds me leftover
chicken wings,
both kinds,
spiced and honey just like
l....e should be
do you know why
Silly
has two L's?
Correct.
for the run lies therein,
kissing knuckles when unexpected,
********** the exhausted, tucking them in,
going out for ice cream in the midst of a
polar vortex,
recording the game to watch later,
so her downtown abbey guys,
she can be watching at the
proper English
place and time,
and celebrating life the next day
with leftover chicken wings
and other heartfelt,
but unheart healthy food additions
that folks, is how you writ a poem in deed,
that will be returned to you sevenfold in reads,
when you want to explain how,
you can, truly, sigh,
you know, love another...
with sinful, leftover chicken wings
Feb 5, 2014
Feb 5, 2014 at 12:01 AM UTC
Chaotic and hectic
To deal with people around me
Can’t cope with this frenzy
Perhaps in solitude I’ll be free
They talk, they deduce
It isn’t helping cos it’s just a ruse
So clouded by the spree
In solitude alone, I can see
I want to talk, and sing too
Not much, just a word or two
Don’t need an audience please
Talking in solitude, that’s me
Don’t push me to the rim
With thoughts just so grim
Don’t barge in my space
In solitude I want to be
When the world turns to be
A freer, just calmer space
I want to step out and feel
What pain solitude has been
And when I’ve made it, alive
Out of my solipsistic life
I want to turn into a new leaf
Embrace a new me, no pain nor grief!
Jul 23, 2015
Jul 23, 2015 at 3:25 AM UTC
Gripping dark leaded pencils
with tips as sharp as the razors
estrogen slit their wrists with.
Mischief produced
due to the size this heart
has been reduced to,
and deduce that she left
after growing weary
of the same being she's seduced.
Serotonin levels low.
Drugs will bring them up,
and perhaps under their
influence this [derelict]
will encounter the verb ****
Endless void of
disappointments have
left him poignant, causing
an appointment to sell souls
to fictional individuals.
Admire the horizon while
he's wasting time rhyming.
Crying to keep haunting
spirits alive and using them in
literature in pitiful attempts to thrive,
simply to leave the entire world who's
abandoned him behind.
27 club. Second attempt
at having [conversations] with death.
Sep 3, 2013
Sep 3, 2013 at 7:35 PM UTC
Is our evolution a Greek tragedy
Tales of success and stories of sorrow
Borrowed from one generation
Transferred to the next
And the Dna cycle goes on
Loss after loss
Providence expanding
Families disbanding
New lands conquered
New deals bartered
Proteins become Amino acids
Amino acids become DNA
Light sensitive cells
Develop depth and width
Four fingers find the fifth
And we expand the breadth
Of breathing distance
Between us and our species of origin
Oh the stories that could be told
Of love, and ***
Of love, and loss
Of birth and death
History unfolded
But the tragedy is
That it is all history that
We managed to miss
We only piece together
Small pieces of people and animals
Play the game of clue
To glue and deduce the truths
Which are swirling in a muddy bowl of
Unwritten stories
Apr 1, 2016
Apr 1, 2016 at 3:15 PM UTC
I think I'm pretty hot ****
most of the time.
Humility has it's place,
and it's place is in the podium.
Used to meter smiles and sighs and double talk,
with hopes to fill the ballot box.
See,
the heretics will tell you,
"You have so much more than we,
share a bit. Especially with me."
**** those ******
I don't fall for
concerned,
condemned,
condescending
conspirators
of the big philanthropist in the sky.
Intimidating,
masticating,
wishy washy,
woe-is-me,
cross carrying,
brother burying,
evangelical,
superintendents
of self-deprecation.
Where does my wealth of mental health come from?
I take pleasure in peace, that is to say,
the lack of both pleasure and pain.
And yes, I feel I get "It" with a capital I.
Because, you see, there is no "Why"
only I and I.
These eyes have seen 22 calendar years,
through bouts of laughter and selfish tears,
but these eyes have the years behind
the comprehension of Your minds.
I am older than time.
I am younger than those yet to be born.
I have had the wealth that comes with scorn.
I have thrown my back out beating corn.
I've had lover's lost, and love retained.
I've dissolved my brain, yet remained sane.
Every song, every people,
Every plant, stone, stick, or bone,
sceptre, crown, yoni, or throne,
are composed by moi so apropos.
You
are all deluded to deduce separation from each other.
You have spent lifetimes slaying the Other.
But then, again, so have I.
Sin is separation. To feel the disconnect,
whether by sense or intellect,
is to lose yourself within your
Self.
When the I is so infinite, what need is there to share?
Teach a man to fish...
Grant him his wish.
We are all we need to be.
"I" is all you need to be
Take this moment as it is.
Don't ask permission.
Don't apologize.
It's your right to breathe
It in.
It's your right to take that step outside your comfort zone
and wander off into the unknown on a whim.
Jul 9, 2012
Jul 9, 2012 at 8:34 PM UTC
Inky gymnasts.
Maybe that's what we are all
Curved, poised, stretched around pens
Our fingers like those dancer ones, on the mats,
Maybe that's what we're like with keyboards
Jumping along performing each move
With a flourish, a florid metaphor
Or something matter-of-fact
That is possibly more poignant
Than overuse of imagery
(deduce ten points!)
S'weird though when you have
Nothing to refer to inside wise
I'm just flexing wildly with no mat to land on.
Jun 19, 2013
Jun 19, 2013 at 7:51 PM UTC
To concretize my theorized love,
I could play the accidental odds and strew
slippery tongues of spotted petals
onto thickly trafficked highways,
or use the best predictive modelling
to deduce when and where I can poke out
a well-heeled boot to trick unwary spills
and ****** a kiss from the unsuspecting
lips of any suitably compatible
passerby oft times inconvenienced and passed
on by.
These well-oiled and crudely experimental
methods do produce expected results,
but not the breakthrough nor the looked-for
satisfaction of appropriate reactions,
so I'll keep my dotted eyes tucked in
their pulpy stems and my shoddy toes curled back
while I beam my bits of invitation through
circuitous routes spatially arrayed along
parallel paths where one might search
with an extra-terrestrial inventiveness,
and wait.
I know the trials of these errant waves
won't add up to a guarantee
my burpy blips of a pulse can reach
the receptively comprehending and responsive
soils I seek, but it's the remoteness of a stead
to come stalking that appeals, and despite
the Hawking drone of unveiled warnings
I might regret such contact, I'll risk it all
on vaguely washed wishes this astronomical
anomaly with an alien sensibility has
one match.
May 3, 2010
May 3, 2010 at 3:15 PM UTC
Love for me is like cigarettes
I need you, I really do
Sadly, I call off all bets
When I'm done and through
Inhale you warm and deep
Feed my addiction
Tell you, You're mine to keep
That you and I aren't fiction
Halfway through is where I doubt
How much is left of you
Soon follows screams and shouts
Our love turns blue
I see the filter approaching
And know out time is short
the arguments are worsening
with every cynical retort
The end has bitterly come
The taste I longed for
Is now dull and dumb
I'm a ******* you're a *****
Extinguish you
Like I have many others
Under my conflicted shoe
Due to issues with our mothers
Watch the ember die and wither
Unfortunately it'll be 20 minutes
Before I tell another to come hither
Oblivious to my own limits
Prepackaged and mass produced
Complimenting my every inebriation
For now at least, I deduce
Truly you are deaths creation
Set you ablaze knowing
That our intoxicating romance
Has not a single chance
Of ever positively growing
Love for me is like cigarettes
I need you, I really do
Sadly, I'll call off all bets
When I'm content and through
Sep 11, 2012
Sep 11, 2012 at 2:55 AM UTC
Simply not liking something,
you are not entitled to take the **** out of it left and right.
"I like it" does not translate to "it is better"
"I dislike it" does not translate to "it is worse"
Your speech indicates your thoughts, and with so judgmental of speech,
it is not outlandish to deduce that your Mind is equally hostile a place;
so, don't be surprised when people think you're a ******* *******
if you tend to talk **** on people and things all the ******* time.
Aug 7, 2013
Aug 7, 2013 at 1:48 PM UTC
I look through eyes
Which seem to be blind
Searching for beauty
I cannot find
I listen with ears
That must be impaired
I only hear words
Which make me scared
I think with a mind
That cannot deduce
Why am I here
And what is the use
I feel with a heart
That searches for love
But it’s only you
That I can think of
BOEMS BY JA 544
Jul 19, 2016
Jul 19, 2016 at 9:46 AM 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
in the deserted streets last night
the Aliens pointed their laser
and equipment at me
and one of them said:
“Take me to your Leader.”
And hoping to pocket
all the presents
they might have brought
I said:
*“Well, I am the Leader
of all Planet Earth.”*
And the Aliens
conferred awhile
(as I waited in anticipation
of the presents they might pull out for me)
and one of them turned to me
and the gender-negative Creature said:
*“Hail, Leader of All Planet Earth!
Our Intelligence Measurement Devices
give a Low Life Form reading on you;
and so we can deduce
what even Lower Life Forms you must lead” –*
and then this gender-negative Creature
turned to the other Aliens and declared:
“Lets’ go. This planet’s not worth our time.”
And thus did I save the Earth
though I wish, at least, those Aliens
had left me some presents for my trouble…
Oct 25, 2010
Oct 25, 2010 at 1:08 AM UTC
My Head was in the clouds
So I misplaced my keys again
I seem to be falling in pieces
Many pieces of me
Earlier this year my ******* were reduced
I am not going to deduce what happen to my gallbladder that was removed a few years back
Speaking of my bad luck after some back-breaking labor it has never been the same
At least most days I can still remember my own name
One hand don't always know what the other is doing especially if I try to multi-task
I had one eye surgery and another is coming up soon, something my eyes spring a leak
My **** has a crack last time I looked there some years back
when I had a pimple I tried to look at I nearly gave my self a concussion
How would I have explained it to the doctor?
Speaking of my mind, I think I misplaced it some years ago
If you find it please handle it with care and send it back to me or you could replace it with a better one that would be fine with me
What was I last writing?
Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 2:15 AM UTC
Words whose inspiration I refuse to trace so I claim they are about no one: everyone writes about blood and maybe that's because it's deserved and maybe where there is desert there is no cliché. Everyone I've ever loved has peeled their lips a little too much and been left with blood running down to their chin. Sanguine seems the perfect word, now, but it's been charged with too much meaning and here I give her leave to drop to her knees screaming, 'I am the thick, deepness you've been searching for.' Blood-red a noun that augurs poorly for those whom take themselves too seriously and here I let it work. I should have recognized the portent provided by rivulets of multiple mediums but I was focused on trying to figure out how your eyes vacillate from my ****** to my amphetamine, and back again. I picked up some of your habits and have held them longer than I held you. Between the blood and tears dripping off my chin in a reality you thought you could never reconcile with words lay you, telling me, woven in secrecy between gasps, that everything has fallen into place. There's a metaphor in there somewhere about how nature's strongest shape is the triangle and the two of us could never stand up to the weights slowly placed on us. I'm not yet confident enough to flesh out the metaphor because all I was ever comfortable with was your flesh and I've yet to deduce the other points of the triangle, but at least I now know what they're not. Everyone before tasted like practice and I realize that's what you thought of me. I slipped truth under your door while you slept and years later I think about your morning before you opened my letter and worked through the ink stains shifted by rain & tears, but mostly rain, I promise.
Jan 16, 2014
Jan 16, 2014 at 12:40 PM UTC