"deduction" poems
We're sorry for that brief interruption
Someone hacked our station for a minute
We're now using some simple deduction
To try to find out the perfect culprit.
You hear static?
Hello news viewers, audio is clear?
Good, it is, time to let the show start
We've seen their boring little white lies here
Right in between commercials for Walmart
Stay tuned for more!
Oct 1, 2014
Oct 1, 2014 at 4:32 PM UTC
Dragon – a reference to government or a leader with such great powers.
Economics can determine the future?
The decision making, which can force millions to abide to the law established by government, can determine the future. That’s it.
An extension of affluence for all,
But where is the long term?
Poverty and high unemployment,
Now an argument?
With two years to educational progress,
Juan Dela Cruz drew back and recoil.
Humankind’s race,
With such declining economies..
A need for taxation of the working class –
To stay number one, or should I say, the Top 10?
For those capable to success,
No full-time salaries.. No livable wage..
A further education..
Would it be worth it when a full-time was offered?
For the move of the dragon,
Is there a downgrade forecast for the nation?
GDP has been calculated, water dragon may not be drown..
Meagre realm’s tyro – for their incomes deduction.
(4/2/12 @xirlleelang)
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 9:29 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
Inside the machine, the mechanism turns --
Spokes and gears, built from lessons learned.
But the gears are rusting, not turning so smooth.
So the product they yearned;
Would be one the thing they would lose.
The gears still rusting, not turning so smooth.
Placed inside were the finest reactants --
Ordered specific for the upper-class faction.
But the gears are rusting, not turning so smooth.
So the machine produced no more than a fraction...
Far from proficient for the hunger to be soothed.
The gears still rusting, not turning so smooth.
Inside they found some things unexpected.
The outside was fine – yet, the inside dejected.
They found the gears rusting, not turning so smooth.
So they closed her back up, left the rusting neglected.
And maybe for the best, for the machine had been abused.
The gears still rusting, not turning so smooth.
But the rust bore down, wearing the gears.
Until the machine had seen her final years.
The gears still rusting, had stopped turning smooth.
She closed her eyes and her ears, to free her from her fears.
For they learned from the machinist, and chose simply to lose.
The gears still rusting; not turning, however smooth.
So they fixed her up inside, with some tape and some lies.
But she refused to move -- for the machine was now wise.
The gears were no longer rusting, yet not turning smooth.
The diagnosis unclear, they said “Everything dies."
But the machine had learned the ability to choose.
And her gears no longer rusted, yet never turned smooth.
This path showed her poise -- her new eyes, ears and voice.
To exclaim that her gears had stopped turning by choice.
Outside they found shine, but inside laid the rust,
Festering, growing, and being taught to mistrust.
Until the machine could no longer function --
Though the catalyst was no more than a simple deduction:
The gears no longer turned, regardless of how smooth,
But that's simply the product of a machine left to choose.
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 1:48 PM UTC
Being in gymnastics
Is like being in an abusive relationship
Everything just tells you "NO"
But you still stay
From the bars,
And how it releases the grips of your hands
To the beam,
Which only aims to make you wobble and fall off
To the vault,
Running full speed to it only to make you miss the vault
To the floor,
Wherein you try to flip and twist only to be defeated by Newton's law of gravity
With the stupid scoring system
Pointing out every flaw
With a deduction
Just cause your bra strap is showing
jeez!
And how we are trained to achieve the unachievable —
How every move is supposed to be precise
Every muscle squeezed and tight —
Perfection
And the fact that
You'll never actually be the best
There's always a harder skill
After you've achieved what you may think
Is your "hardest"
It pushes you
To your breaking point
Forcing you to be
This perfect formed strong gymnast
Which pays so much costs
Literally blood, sweat and tears
It tells you that
Every ******* time you fall
You just gotta get back up
And try again
That no matter how much sore you are
You gotta **** it up
And do it again
And again and again and again
Until you finally get it
But there are these magical moments
those little moments of pure happiness
When you get a skill you've been working on
When coach praises you for your improvement
When you get over your fear
And when you stand on top of that platform
Knowing you gave it your all
These moments
Are what keep us going
These moments
Are what we come back for
Time after time after leaving the gym saying
"I hate training!"
There's just something about
These moments so special
That keeps us wanting more
And I will never
ever
Stop loving gymnastics
No matter how many times it hurts me
Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 6:24 AM UTC
Navel gazing poetry reduction
Set schemes and syllables, are all defined
Words within these set guidelines are confined
automatic, a five point deduction
odd
nothing really rhymes with
poetry
poultry?
I
am
sure
the
chickens
like
a
certain
rhythm
to
the
piece
(kind of looks like one)
But in Days of yore, but so goes the tale
Poets would lyric, prose, perhaps, with a lute
But poorly formed rhyme meant pay not in loot
A Homophone, gets you payment, in ale
Momentarily,
The flow is interrupted
By a small Haiku
The point of the piece would be
As anyone could plainly see
without breaking some joints
to win back the points
And not be among the debris
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 5:44 PM UTC
I have a fear,
it's not that I'm afraid of the future,
I'm afraid of a realization,
one I had last week.
What if...
What if it's downhill from here?
My childhood was amazing,
my parents were excellent,
but the real issue was my friends.
The fun we had was real,
it's just not the same,
academic discussion,
scientific deduction,
dissection of stories and ideals,
what's it all mean?
My favorite memories are not of discussion,
but action,
actions I keep written on a piece of paper,
strapped tightly to my chest,
a eulogy of youth,
time spent as kids.
Through the haze of years I see,
low rate movies,
bonfires burning just a little too bright,
Wendy's runs in the dead of night,
skinny dipping out on the lake,
firecrackers bursting over head,
roman candles,
no small talk,
real talk,
girls,
near death experience,
you were there right?!
Mario Kart,
video games,
disgusting food combination,
skating behind the moped,
sledding behind the SUV,
basketball on black tar,
mustard spilled all over the car,
splints and broken wrists,
word games,
collective humor,
stupid and indecipherable,
socks with sandals,
up all night talking in the basement,
not a care in the world,
no ambition,
dumb little kids,
messing around doing dumb things,
throwing common convention in the fire-pit,
flickering flames,
nostalgia on release,
gone our separate ways.
I had realization last week,
those guys weren't my friends,
they were my brothers.
Nov 28, 2013
Nov 28, 2013 at 2:53 AM UTC
If man follows evolution
He'll come to distruction
No more revolutions
Nothing like reconstrution
A little humiliation?
One more deduction
No such thing as a nation
No chance for creation
A Sea of Tranquility
Only elimination, Mother Earth's abortion
What about salvation? Not even mutation?
We've lost our ambition, so we loss our reincarnation?
No more benedictions? Only discrimination?
A Sea of Tranquility?
Total annihlation? Call it "Holy Assaignation"
We should find our anticipation confronted with meditation
With no reservation for our obligation
There is no solution for a simple conclusion
A Sea Of Tranquility?
May 20, 2010
May 20, 2010 at 5:40 PM UTC
this verbal wishing well, appreciated,
a nut of good intentions but drives me
deeper into de-spare-ing downing detentions,
for it is only the article's genuine genius,
that elevates the human spiritus, to godlike status
no ditty this, but a wail, shriek, for
human touch is gift so greatest,
that any day passing without
either, neither but both, 'tis one
truly wasted,
a deduction on our
calculus of inited^ human intuitions,
a failure of our greatest inventions
a subtraction of our
gainful living, a purposed ecstasy
our one and only inexact
measure of measurement
that defies pedantic notions of
things of weight or volume,
but extends our own existence
sans
the armies of embrace,
the electric elected syncing,
of the shocking sharing of
closing the borders of divided spaces,
a soft contusion, a realized illusion
a de minimus of our days,
a lessening of our lessons,
a loss of earning livingness,
a nail in our coffined basket,
and here to cease without surcease,
the elemental incalculable numbered
members of our total human races,
that so tragic in a twenty four expiry,
that the bonding of affection goes
unexpressed...
offer you my armory of arms,
cleanse us both with showered kisses,
inform you thus of our emboldened connection,
voiding these lowlife separators of lineage divisors,
what matter color, gender, chosen god nomenclature,
any of this nonsensical human inventions for distancing
divested human beings from each other
tho eyes closed, and all our senses flaring,
when we confirm what we were born knowing,
there is nothing greater than the human touch
PostScript
my first and best poem of the day,
how it came to me goes unbeknownst,
but will practice what is preached
with any and all willing encountered souls,
and perhaps, come-end of day, will write,
once more, one more, re heaven on earth
7:02am
Tue Sep Thirty
Two Thousand and Twenty Five. nml
Sep 30, 2025
Sep 30, 2025 at 7:13 AM UTC
I
Originations of consciousness whir into a moan of torment.
A sudden bombshell of consternation;
her eyes burst wide.
Baby?
Sleep-laden, post-finals brain gravy:
No, can't be. Could be. Shouldn't be. Want to be? No, can't be.
Lurking beyond the reach of terror, realism slithers closer.
The hysteria deteriorates as deduction brings lucidity.
******* eggs.
They are abolished, and never heard from again.
II
Suitcase tetris, smothering each layer.
She moves without direction,
or a lazy child with ADD.
At long last, the shimmering sink full of death beckons...
Dissatisfaction erupts in a symphony of fragmented drinkware.
Her assumption lingers, cresting into prediction.
Her expectations are met.
A thorn in her paw.
The dishwater weeps.
III
Her rage is tangible, hissing in her ears,
bashing her skull when it is ignored,
clawing at her spine.
She abandons the silverware.
They never did anything for her.
The loathsome bag swings threateningly.
She ignores it, giving it a silent challenge.
Fate strings before her eyes, yanked taut and thrumming
with inevitability.
Crimson satin sheets tangle lovingly from the rift of tender peel.
Cake-batter-in-a-mixing-bowl splatter,
the dissimilitude of children's laughter.
Wobbling, fawn-like under the density of rage gnawing at her lips,
she retreats, acknowledging her submission.
She begins as a tree, but rapidly degenerates
into grotesque dysmorphic spasms on the cheap veneer.
Hysteria threatens to burst forth, frothing, but no.
This is not my day.
Sep 27, 2012
Sep 27, 2012 at 4:47 AM UTC
Is it indubitably unsuitable
to be suitably incommunicable
on the undeducible deduction
dubitably deduced
to be immovably unmovable
or doably undoable?
Or can a crazy conundrum communicate
the incommunicable indubitabilty
of the undeducibly suitable deduction?
Simply said,
such is doably suitable,
or indubitably deducible
if the doably communicable deduction
deduces down
to the suitably suitable,
Movably reducible reduction
that's indubitably doable.
Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 8:29 AM UTC
Too thrilled by the case,
Sherlock just disappears,
To begin with a chase,
John is let alone,
To get a cab, and go to Baker St. .
But wait- wherever he goes,
The telephone booth starts ringing!
He waits for somebody to pick up,
And continues to walk;
The third booth starts ringing,
The caller must be desperate to talk.
A black, shiny car,
Pulls over for John to ride,
The destination seemed far,
In this conversation-less hour.
"Anthea", answered the accompanying secretary,
When asked her name,
Fake it was,
Absolutely.
The anxiety was over,
John was confronted by a well-dressed man,
Who offered him money, to spy,
The guy, who deduced Watson's army background,
By his tan.
The "arch-enemy" of Sherlock,
As he introduced himself,
Told John about his psychosomatic disorder,
"You are back in the game,
You don't fear danger,
You've missed this lifestyle."
True it was,
Pretty much,
"Could be dangerous", wrote Sherlock,
And there he was dashing into 221B.
Sherlock was quite disappointed,
When he got to know about the declination,
Of that tempting offer,
"Pity, we could've split the fee",
He suggested John for the next time.
Isn't Mr. Holmes quite irksome,
Calling John from the other end of London,
Just to send a text?
No, this was not an ordinary text,
An SMS was just sent,
By Mr. Watson's phone,
To the murderer.
The murderer?
But why?!
Elementary for SH.
Found the case within an hour,
Which was now in front him.
His mind, is truly above par!
One thing missing from the suitcase:
Her organizer, her phone.
"Nah, she's is a clever woman,
A serial adulterer,
Would never leave her phone at hotel",
This Holmes said, backed by balance of probability.
They waited at a restaurant,
And the wait was long,
But worth it.
Had to chase a taxi,
which was done successfully,
Thanks to Sherlock's excellent memory.
Hence proved it was,
The psychosomatic limb of Doctor.
A drugs bust had occurred at their place,
Seriously, this man, a deduction ****** would have drugs?
"I'm not a psychopath Anderson,
I'm a high functioning sociopath,
Do your research!"
Snapped Mr. Punchline.
Just a couple of minutes later,
This brilliant sleuth realized-
"Rachel! Yes, Rachel!
This woman in pink, Jennifer,
Is clever,
And she's dead!",
much to Mr. Holmes's displeasure.
Feb 2, 2016
Feb 2, 2016 at 12:24 PM UTC
There once was a TV network
That made me want to exult
But now I am sad and despondent
And it’s mostly Steven Moffat’s fault
I enthusiastically started Doctor Who
Who’s chronology is twisted and bizarre
It seemed like such fun to travel through time and space with a man
Who used a blue box as his car
But soon the companions’ aspirations
To travel to planets and stars
Were crushed by the Void, lost love, and gargoyles
And the Doctor is lonely and scarred.
Not yet wise, I began watching Sherlock
His deduction left me amazed and bamboozled
He and John drank some tea, and solved crimes with glee
Although each case took quite some perusal.
They lived happily with their cool flat decorum
Mrs. Hudson made biscuits below
Then along came the menacing, mean Moriarty
There was nothing that he didn’t know.
Because of the fallacy that Sherlock’s a fake
He’s dead and John’s in the doldrums
The only thing done to commemorate him
Are John’s “I do believe in Sherlock Holmes”
Hoping for a show that was boisterous and happy
Instead of the peaceful, yet sad
I turned to the medieval Merlin
who was quite a cheery lad
He worked for the king’s son, Arthur
who eclectically chose his knights
There were sirs Lancelot, Gwaine, and Leon
The bravest people in sight.
Merlin used his job as camouflage,
His secret he did not divulge
for if they all knew he was a powerful wizard
In his execution King Uther would indulge.
Since Merlin’s destiny was to keep the prince safe
He faced many scary things
He would cower in fear, but when Arthur was near
He felt brave enough to sing
Merlin’s feelings for Arthur were obvious
But does Arthur feel the same way?
When Arthur deigns to exchange dialogue with him
It instantly brightens his day.
But Lancelot died doing Merlin’s job
And Arthur is in love with Gwen
Morgana, a wizard who was once Merlin’s friend
Is evil and wants Camelot dead.
So the Doctor is lonely and growing old
Sherlock left John all alone
And Merlin feels guilty and outcast
They’ve lost all the good they’ve ever known.
And I am left crying and angry.
How could the writers do this to me?
But still, they’re the best shows I’ve ever watched
And I’ll always love the BBC.
May 19, 2013
May 19, 2013 at 11:36 PM UTC
The paths that lay ahead call
Singing harmoniously to the soul
A chorus of whispers like flitting wings
Opinions, unsolicited and unwelcome
The future is seen in logical deduction
Two steps down this road
Five steps down that
Some are well lit
While others sit in the darkness of the unknown
Eenie, meenie, miney, and moe
Life is ruled by a despot
Every choice, each minute decision
Made by one
There is no team in, I
Take a deep breath
One foot in front of the other
The options are limitless
Final say and fate accepted
There is no one to blame
When responsibility lies within
Change direction at will
Enjoy the unexpected
Each life a maze
Each with its own tyrant
Jul 4, 2015
Jul 4, 2015 at 9:49 PM UTC
Next stop Goodwill
Wearing thin and edges frayed
An old jacket with empty pockets
Saved for what…closet fodder
Mixed in with relevance
Old memories of that time
When winter meant something
And warmth was welcomed
Missing a few buttons, threadbare
Elbows faded from too much thought
Once a good friend, a perfect fit
Clinging to a wire hanger, fabric wings grow
Staring at the new fashion, in style
Unread leather everyone sees
Can’t wait to touch…peruse
Spring brings flowers and cleaning
A black plastic trash bag…hefty
Tossed to the bottom in a heap
A tax deduction…space reduction
Soon to be forgotten, if not already
Worn out, replaced by current, different, unique?
Next stop Goodwill
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 10:22 AM UTC
.
Some say the scientific method
Is the ultimate algorithm and others
Prefer prayer.
For symbolists, all intelligence can be reduced to manipulating symbols, in the same way that a mathematician solves equations by replacing expressions by other expressions. Symbolists understand that you can't learn from scratch: you need some initial knowledge to go with the data. They've figured out how to incorporate pre-existing knowledge into learning, and how to combine different pieces of knowledge on the fly in order to solve new problems. Their master algorithm is inverse deduction, which figures out what knowledge is missing in order to make a deduction go through, and then makes it as general as possible.
Tea
In its simplicity
Can sustain concentration
For connectionists, learning is what the brain does, and so what we need to do is reverse engineer it. The brain learns by adjusting the strengths of connections between neurons, and the crucial problem is figuring out which connections are to blame for which errors and changing them accordingly. The connectionists' master algorithm is back propagation, which compares a system's outputs with the desired one and then successively changes the connections in layer after layer of neurons so as to bring the output closer to what it should be.
Hungry and cold
A holy condition
A warrior's position
Evolutionaries believe that the mother of all learning is natural selection. If it made us, it can make anything, and all we need to do is simulate it on the computer. The key problem that evolutionaries solve is learning structure: not just adjusting parameters, like back propagation does, but creating the brain that these adjustments can then fine-tune. The evolutionaries' master algorithm is genetic programming, which mates and evolves computer programs in the same way that nature mates and evolves organisms.
Arithmetic
A good shit's the metric
Of a dying man
Bayesians are concerned above all with uncertainty. All learned knowledge is uncertain, and learning itself is a form of uncertain inference. The problem then becomes how to deal with noisy, incomplete, and even contradictory information without falling apart. The solution is probabilistic inference, and the master algorithm is Bayes' theorem and its derivatives. Bayes' theorem tell us how to incorporate new evidence into our beliefs, and probabilistic inference algorithms do that as efficiently as possible.
I can't believe
I won't live forever, therefore,
I invented an afterlife to supplement reincarnation
For analogizers, the key to learning is recognizing similarities between situations and thereby inferring other similarities. If two patients have similar symptoms, perhaps they have the same disease. The key problem is judging how similar two things are. The analogizers' master algorithm is the support vector machine, which figures out which experiences to remember and how to combine them to make new predictions.
Prepare for a powerful anesthesia
Chemical processes irresistible
A good and perfect rest
Jun 5, 2017
Jun 5, 2017 at 6:34 AM UTC
Deduction
God is everywhere;
God is love; love
is every
we'
r
e
Induction
I
am
universe;
the universe is
infinite; I am infinite
Oct 5, 2013
Oct 5, 2013 at 9:00 AM UTC
my wolf is yet a plague of thought,
again I am consumed by loves gentle rock.
the more it shields me from the stench of my rot,
I remember all I once forgot.
no one has caught my heart,
in fact,
I think it's torn apart
so raw, the tragedy of desire
the smoldering fire of blue flames
burn my love into a smoke,
which I inhale with the attempt
to recycle and filter out all the hurt I've caused.
to myself
to others
and for no one.
a romantic dying hard
trying not to escape the truth
while at the same time trying not to create any lies.
Jul 11, 2013
Jul 11, 2013 at 6:33 PM UTC
#Alexithymia
I'm not hellish i'm driven by a Mephistophelean relish
To reach an introspection to understand the inception
The ontological Manichaeism turned to be an existential absurdism .
And i'm drown in my own nihilism
Oh...what an owlish reality !!! i'm squeamish about this absurdity
I rely on self-revulsion to resist this daily delusion
...
What an exasperation !!! we live in the premeditation
This nature carries a lot of humiliation !!!
I'm sick of this fornication
Could the end of the road at least fetch a salvation ?
What a downhearted metamorphosis
I'm lost and i feel astonished
...
With conviction that this existence is only a deception
Oh...Oh...Oh....what a corruption !!!
This reality is based on a false deduction
That leads to a fatal destruction
Just where is the dysfunction ???
Is it in my creation ...
#Mzoughi_Moncef Le 06/09/2013
Nov 27, 2015
Nov 27, 2015 at 12:59 PM UTC
I'm partying down at a Hollywood bash
The reason I'm here is that I crashed
I figured that if I would have asked
I would have been told to kiss their...
Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies
I'm not even close to being a famous guy
Something I often ponder and question why
But that's another story for another...
Time to see if there's anyone that I know
As I'm rubbing elbows with the escargot
Something smells fishy at this table bro
Wondering should I stay or should I...
Go ahead and think what you will of me
I'm just here to meet Justin "The Bieb"
Once I do then I can leave
Wait a minute, in the corner is that...
She gave me a glimpse from behind the bar
I'd take her home but don't have a car
With that deduction I wont get very far
Still do you think she thinks I'm a...
Star light helps to guide me home
I was found out and kicked out of the Hollywood bowl
It's a lonely walk that I'm walking home
Hey look! Another party, what the heck, you never know...
May 23, 2013
May 23, 2013 at 8:09 AM UTC
“Hello”. I could hear that word spoken in a solid, yet slightly sadistic voice. The word almost drowned out by my body’s natural urge to find stability. I could only think of the show in my head, I should be on stage pleasing my thousands, well, pushing a few hundred fans and making them beg for an over the top encore that would happen anyway. Instead of being on that stage, I was in this room, my body horizontal with white ceilings you would only see in a house of a human with obsessive compulsive disorder, or in a hospital. I had no reason to be in a stranger’s house, so through deduction, I have figured out I was in a hospital. The ceiling was coming into focus and I heard the same voice ask
“Is there anybody in there?”.That seemed like a very odd statement. Of course I am in here. My eyes are open and staring at your white walls, I'm here.
This man I was hearing now came in my range of sight. He came in through the left. He had on a plain baby blue bandanna that almost seemed like a hat you would see on a ******** biker with a soft side. He also had on a mask covering all his mouth and the tip of his nose. This mask matched the biker cloth he had on.
To the right came a person with the same bandanna and mask, the same color too. Was this a gang? In a hospital? This human had straightened long brown hair; this human must be of the female gender. She spoke to me, in a worried shaken tone, she said
“Just nod if you can hear me”. I started to nod, but the movement brought a black shade over my eyes. I blacked out. It brought me back to a memory, but I was viewing all of it in a third perspective. The sun had set, and the soft yellow tint of the street lights lit the area. It was quite an empty part of the town. The past I was standing at a motel. I was on the second floor about 7 and a half feet from a frazzled man. He was still young, about my age, I must have been about 23 at this time. I assumed this was my brother. He was screaming something about hating. He was screaming at his girlfriend, slamming at the door, and totally drunk. He was quite good at multitasking. Finally in a distressed voice, almost whispering, he groaned.
“Is there anyone home?”. Those words screamed at me, like it meant something.
The white walls were coming back again. No one was in the room. How long was I out for?
I rested, and thought about what happened, and I could not remember what happened to get me in here or what I saw during that blackout. (to be continued…)
Jun 20, 2012
Jun 20, 2012 at 1:47 AM UTC
The gift of observance comes rushing back
As half-lit skies circumvent in upheaval
Seeing the hidden guise for what we all lack
I quick deduction spawns an intent retrieval
Grasping the whole of what my peers are concealing
A half-ass attempt to make sense of these feelings
All of these words are so hollow and insignificant
Pleading a case as if they have a sense of morality
A conceded hope that ends up as a wasted expedient
The building block pieces to a straight willed society
Fixated mortification's that serves as our propriety
Keeping our relative outlook as my favorable notoriety
Jun 5, 2013
Jun 5, 2013 at 12:37 PM UTC
The ugly building
Supposed to milden the devastating perils of the destruction of the body of a loved one ; or unloved one.
Or perhaps, it is not a destruction . Perhaps it is merely the transition from body to dust ( from dust , to nothing).
For how are we to proceed? Knowingly pacing the wooden floors that the person you once called ' dad' is perished , gone only to the foreign lands , far away to the sky .
Amidst the trees , that is where their eyes will once again meet , and that is far to future , and far to the past. It is only how we perceive such death that affects us. Negatively . Positively . It is a deduction from the world , a gain to the stars. Death is not a pity. Death is a rebirth.
Jul 26, 2013
Jul 26, 2013 at 8:27 PM UTC
Dad!!!
Where can I buy a fridge freezer, I'm hearing things that can't be real.
Dads head now spinning, can't fathom why so asks the question why oh why?
Why because your mum has two and when I left one was new.
No it's not for me its for my friend, because her daddy upt and left
The first time in months she touched my heart because she showed she cared allot
So daddy asked what's it all about and his heart sank at how she cared for a friend she hardly knew as yet
Her mum works hard all the time and can't afford to get one now
She works all day on the farm and I want to get her one ok?
So what does a dad say to that when he finally sees behind his daughters mask
She has a heart and god its big, so I guess I need to find a fridge!
So asked about and favours called to find a fridge for Dherrans mum!
Off to Woolton and back again, we have one and I'm feeling great.
Four weeks later I still have one and no contact with Dherrans mum!!
Calls and texts and no reply! Oh how I've tried
So Emily tonights the night I'll leave it in your friends drive.
So off I popped and knock knock knock and eyes like saucers looking back!
I'm now sure I've got it wrong the house the number the whole shabbang
Who's this bloke and *** I'm in me onsie oh my god!
Introductions and no idea who or why he is here!
I'm Emilys dad well that fell flat, but dont I know you anyhow?
After deduction better than Sherlock Holmes he showed his badge it all came clear thank **** for that the fridge is here!!!
Fridge inside and cups of tea and laughter filled the air with glee
Talk of art and Shakespeare to a pleasant change from a Thursdays gloom
Then time to go and say goodnight, I rather liked the onsie sight!!!
So there's the tale and simple enough..
Don't underestimate a childs love
x
Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 2:28 PM UTC