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"deductive" poems
PC came, RD comes. Their Nana fill melts, their candles in my midst It's key to lock tryst. ~~~~
0
Jul 30, 2021
Jul 30, 2021 at 2:42 PM UTC
Deductive logic bliss.
The last time I saw you, you were standing there at the gate, watching me walk away   I was trying to look cool, like nostalgia in motion That’s a difficult thing to pull off when you’re constantly looking back  You were smiling and waving, like it was all gonna be alright I secretly hated you for that   Everything in my being screamed at me to turn around, to run back to you I wanted to take your hand in mine and pull you out of there like Wayne did to Cassandra… Only I didn’t I did my duty I turned around one last time at the end of the longest hallway in the world and stole one last look Blinking back the burning sensation in my eyeballs and the tightness in my throat And then I plodded on Just like I was supposed to I had a stabbing pain in my gut like things would never be the same again Like the WE we were was dying and going away forever   At the time I dismissed that sharp unbearable thought as sentimental weakness The sloshy musings of an admittedly overdramatic youth   Never would’ve guessed my gut knew so much more than my thirsty brain With its linear logic and high powered deductive reasoning I told myself we’d be together again soon I told myself to focus on the task at hand, and you’d be the reward waiting for me at the end of it all The bright white light at the end of my long dark tunnel   I told myself you’d be the sunshine on the other side of the mountain Knowing somewhere deep down it wasn’t true   Knowing somewhere deep down, that the WE we were Now existed only in my fondest memories Only in the dark moments I would occasionally indulge on the cool side of my pillow I turned around And walked out of your life
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Jun 26, 2013
Jun 26, 2013 at 12:50 PM UTC
Love Letter
The last time I saw you, you were standing there at the gate, watching me walk away   I was trying to look cool, like nostalgia in motion That’s a difficult thing to pull off when you’re constantly looking back  You were smiling and waving, like it was all gonna be alright I secretly hated you for that   Everything in my being screamed at me to turn around, to run back to you I wanted to take your hand in mine and pull you out of there like Wayne did to Cassandra… Only I didn’t I did my duty I turned around one last time at the end of the longest hallway in the world and stole one last look Blinking back the burning sensation in my eyeballs and the tightness in my throat And then I plodded on Just like I was supposed to I had a stabbing pain in my gut like things would never be the same again Like the WE we were was dying and going away forever   At the time I dismissed that sharp unbearable thought as sentimental weakness The sloshy musings of an admittedly overdramatic youth   Never would’ve guessed my gut knew so much more than my thirsty brain With its linear logic and high powered deductive reasoning I told myself we’d be together again soon I told myself to focus on the task at hand, and you’d be the reward waiting for me at the end of it all The bright white light at the end of my long dark tunnel   I told myself you’d be the sunshine on the other side of the mountain Knowing somewhere deep down it wasn’t true   Knowing somewhere deep down, that the WE we were Now existed only in my fondest memories Only in the dark moments I would occasionally indulge on the cool side of my pillow I turned around And walked out of your life
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29
High soaring above the Raven glides What do you see with your eyes? A bird? A black bird? What to you hear? A caw? A song? What if we are in a dome? The Raven looking down What does the Raven see? You? Me? What colour are we? The Raven is a paradox If he sees us and we see him Both observing that neither of us are black, nor Ravens Increases our belief that the Raven is black Unrelated observations under the dome Supposition, inductive logic, intuition Illustrate ours and the Raven's deductive logic. Our logic is the same. The Raven soars on We remain.
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Apr 8, 2014
Apr 8, 2014 at 12:05 PM UTC
Raven's Dome
All estuaries flow eastbound, and the subterranean rail tracks keep forcing against the estuaries’ grain and dust foundations perpendicularly to them. How can a sane proposition -- a quantification of syntax execution (those squirming cuticles through bonds of regression)— an excessive reflection, reflexive inspection, Prove its sanity through continued suggestion? Deductive insurrections stirred in memory, A rumble, causing sediments to crumble, Wineglasses balanced atop countertops tumble. Spilling contents upon the grained wooden, elitists' floors. "Anesthetic, onsetting tuberculosis in breath patterns, Gavels ringing on rigged tolling tongs in caverns, Dark tolerances to Copernican astronomy in shadows, And the handle grinds as boxcar wheels' flints and steels catch and spark in addled locks," I mumbled from a half-nap. It was surgery, the smooth procedures on the moving trains, The gains and plectrums scraped against the brains' spider veins, To reorganize the sane, to bridge the broken definitions changed, To prevent arguments' bone structure from fractures and sprains. "Use gavels against the scalpels, sculpt with their judgment," a corona dream's habitant corrugated. He pounded the gavel's end against the knife to chisel at the pituitary gland pulsing in his subject, And her arms flailed like a horse's legs in heat-induced convulsion. I thought it was done. The Canson Merue train screamed in the night under earth to Yellowknife to meet Canadian soil as the Heavy Breather pounded his gavel.
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Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 5:06 PM UTC
The Continued Suggestion (Subterrain)
All estuaries flow eastbound, and the subterranean rail tracks keep forcing against the estuaries’ grain and dust foundations perpendicularly to them. How can a sane proposition -- a quantification of syntax execution (those squirming cuticles through bonds of regression)— an excessive reflection, reflexive inspection, Prove its sanity through continued suggestion? Deductive insurrections stirred in memory, A rumble, causing sediments to crumble, Wineglasses balanced atop countertops tumble. Spilling contents upon the grained wooden, elitists' floors. "Anesthetic, onsetting tuberculosis in breath patterns, Gavels ringing on rigged tolling tongs in caverns, Dark tolerances to Copernican astronomy in shadows, And the handle grinds as boxcar wheels' flints and steels catch and spark in addled locks," I mumbled from a half-nap. It was surgery, the smooth procedures on the moving trains, The gains and plectrums scraped against the brains' spider veins, To reorganize the sane, to bridge the broken definitions changed, To prevent arguments' bone structure from fractures and sprains. "Use gavels against the scalpels, sculpt with their judgment," a corona dream's habitant corrugated. He pounded the gavel's end against the knife to chisel at the pituitary gland pulsing in his subject, And her arms flailed like a horse's legs in heat-induced convulsion. I thought it was done. The Canson Merue train screamed in the night under earth to Yellowknife to meet Canadian soil as the Heavy Breather pounded his gavel.
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20
Blue for the chill, It's blue, That hill, Off in the distance, Past that window, That hasn't been washed, I'll do that, I will. But the hill, It's blue, Blue is for the chill, In case you forgot, I do that sometimes, I can't remember my lines, But it's ok, Cause they did too, So it's not just you, But look, Out the ***** window, That I forgot to clean, A minute ago, Oh, Right. ... Now look, Look! Past the window you don't know is there, Cause its so clean, Out to the hill, It's blue, Just like you, Blue is for the chill, Blue is for you too. I know why blue is yours, Cause I know almost everything, I knew what your favorite colour is, I know your favorite song to sing, I shouldn't give it away too soon, But the colour is blue, And the song Blue Moon, I knew I shouldn't have said anything, I gave it away too soon... But that's why you need to look, You need to see, Just like me, I see you have eyes, I know that cause I can see, Big surprise, It's deductive reasoning, I like your wide eyes, Makes you look scared, Maybe you won't be so combative, Maybe you'll do better than the others faired... No no, Don't cry, Please don't cry, I, I don't know what to do about tears, I find them to be one of my bigger fears, I fear them like you fear death, I'm not sure how to make them stop, Without stealing your breath... That's better I'm glad you stopped, It's better than you smile, Cause it's been quite awhile, Since I've seen someone not so scared, Perhaps you will do better, Than the others faired... Oh no, I've gone and frightened you again, I'm sorry, I don't mean to, I'm unsure what to do, How about I show you something? Here look, See, It's a ring, Diamond and gold, Will keep shining forever, Till we're grey and old, Isn't that something else? It'll last longer than both you and I, But that's no surprise, Rocks have long lives, We humans almost never survive... But never mind that, You got me all sidetracked, Trickster you! But look, Beyond the window, All the blue, That is the hill, Cause blue is for the chill, And I know how you like the colour, I like always how the world is still, Never moving, Not an inch, Not a mile, Not bit, Not in quite awhile, I've often wondered why not, But then I forgot, What I wondered about, And then I scream, And I shout, And when I stop I find everyone's sleeping, Not making a sound, Not even breathing, So I dig a big, Big hole in the ground, And in they go, Without a sound. But don't worry, I won't forget a thing! I won't ever forget the name of that song, That song you love to sing! It's called... It's called... It's called..... ... .... ...Hm, Wake up sleepy head, Wake up lazy bones! Oh, You're dead... You never even got to see the hill, That's passed the window, It's blue, Blue is for the chill, All for you, That hill, Cause it's blue, And I know you really like the colour, Or liked I guess, What a mess... I'm sorry for this, I really thought I'd miss, Never hit anything with it before, But I guess I did today, I had hoped you could stay, For a little while longer, I knew that I could be just that little bit stronger, But not today...
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Jan 13, 2010
Jan 13, 2010 at 11:53 AM UTC
Blue Is For The Chill
Blue for the chill, It's blue, That hill, Off in the distance, Past that window, That hasn't been washed, I'll do that, I will. But the hill, It's blue, Blue is for the chill, In case you forgot, I do that sometimes, I can't remember my lines, But it's ok, Cause they did too, So it's not just you, But look, Out the ***** window, That I forgot to clean, A minute ago, Oh, Right. ... Now look, Look! Past the window you don't know is there, Cause its so clean, Out to the hill, It's blue, Just like you, Blue is for the chill, Blue is for you too. I know why blue is yours, Cause I know almost everything, I knew what your favorite colour is, I know your favorite song to sing, I shouldn't give it away too soon, But the colour is blue, And the song Blue Moon, I knew I shouldn't have said anything, I gave it away too soon... But that's why you need to look, You need to see, Just like me, I see you have eyes, I know that cause I can see, Big surprise, It's deductive reasoning, I like your wide eyes, Makes you look scared, Maybe you won't be so combative, Maybe you'll do better than the others faired... No no, Don't cry, Please don't cry, I, I don't know what to do about tears, I find them to be one of my bigger fears, I fear them like you fear death, I'm not sure how to make them stop, Without stealing your breath... That's better I'm glad you stopped, It's better than you smile, Cause it's been quite awhile, Since I've seen someone not so scared, Perhaps you will do better, Than the others faired... Oh no, I've gone and frightened you again, I'm sorry, I don't mean to, I'm unsure what to do, How about I show you something? Here look, See, It's a ring, Diamond and gold, Will keep shining forever, Till we're grey and old, Isn't that something else? It'll last longer than both you and I, But that's no surprise, Rocks have long lives, We humans almost never survive... But never mind that, You got me all sidetracked, Trickster you! But look, Beyond the window, All the blue, That is the hill, Cause blue is for the chill, And I know how you like the colour, I like always how the world is still, Never moving, Not an inch, Not a mile, Not bit, Not in quite awhile, I've often wondered why not, But then I forgot, What I wondered about, And then I scream, And I shout, And when I stop I find everyone's sleeping, Not making a sound, Not even breathing, So I dig a big, Big hole in the ground, And in they go, Without a sound. But don't worry, I won't forget a thing! I won't ever forget the name of that song, That song you love to sing! It's called... It's called... It's called..... ... .... ...Hm, Wake up sleepy head, Wake up lazy bones! Oh, You're dead... You never even got to see the hill, That's passed the window, It's blue, Blue is for the chill, All for you, That hill, Cause it's blue, And I know you really like the colour, Or liked I guess, What a mess... I'm sorry for this, I really thought I'd miss, Never hit anything with it before, But I guess I did today, I had hoped you could stay, For a little while longer, I knew that I could be just that little bit stronger, But not today...
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145
Is this useless? Am I useless? Are doubts the mark of wisdom? As the wise sit and wait. The greatest advice I heard, For my family to lift my chin For my shoulders to lift our backs, Is that the ground has nothing for eyes. With one last look around I noticed why, This debris is interesting, but deprived. Stories. From what is left behind. The beginnings of my deductive empathy Sound like the pauses in my discrepancy And sure, these countless questions can lead to great things But when should I release my reticence for my wings? Another twinge in rhetoric, A singe in my time's tick I must look up from the path to see my own, There is no use in musing at buried bone. A miser of different dirts will become rich among rubble. Not believing that anything is worth its trouble, Is a mark of death, not wisdom. I am sorry for not seeing this prison.
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Aug 20, 2012
Aug 20, 2012 at 5:33 AM UTC
Apology
tickle tickle tickle giggle giggle giggle why you're so adorable and lovable humble humble humble simple simple simple why this heartbeat getting louder yet messier apple apple apple waffle waffle waffle couldn't get enough to be your good listener mister mister mister crazier crazier crazier would you please be my special pleaser?
0
Nov 7, 2016
Nov 7, 2016 at 9:46 AM UTC
deductive
- writing like - a grocery list of metaphors - for a cooking recipe instruction - or some kind of - shipping manifesto; - let your deductive mind - interpret its own flow - since that's the one thing - we don't naturally grow - but if you put too much spice in that dish - bear in mind (x) it’s best served cold
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Jun 19, 2017
Jun 19, 2017 at 6:22 AM UTC
Procedure
My heart's a well. I find it is well whenever it is filled, with love. It feels loved, whenever I'm with you, I belong....With you...I am home.
0
Dec 22, 2016
Dec 22, 2016 at 3:33 AM UTC
Deductive Reasoning
This is a precursor to everything to come in the next year. I believe if I begin to focus on stream of consciousness writing, my content may begin to resemble that of Bukowski or Poe but hopefully not as rapaciously violent or ominously insane. More specifically, I figure in my own storytelling fashion I will account my platonic relationships gone awry based on false pretenses established by reputation of the "societal self".  As well as the romantic relationships that I so eagerly sabotage(d) believing in the assigned repetoire cast upon me by others who believed in seductive over deductive reasoning. When someone calls you something for long enough, you begin to believe it. But unlike others, I can't drown my demons because they know how to swim. I seek catharsis and self definition. I seek growth and competency. I seek understanding, and I seek to turn my version of insanity into something that others can relate to or translate.
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Feb 12, 2015
Feb 12, 2015 at 3:29 AM UTC
life goes on
By: Cedric McClester The law applies to all So when the mighty fall Just like the rest of us -  y’all They hear the clarion call When asked - Oh yes indeed! They do regret their greed So no matter their misdeed For leniency they plead And let’s keep it real Cuz they’re not made of steel They’d like to cut a deal Found guilty they’ll appeal And baby I’m not lyin’ By accident or design Without them even tryin’ They’re lookin’ at big time When they’re cut down to size It makes you realize They fall quicker than they rise Right before our eyes Past actions sealed their fate But it’s no cause to celebrate Cuz they got crushed under the weight And they learned that lesson late So you ask for the deductive? It should serve to be instructive Not at all counterproductive How greed can be seductive Although they celluloid it By all means just avoid it There’s no need to Sigmund Freud it Just because they once enjoyed it Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2015.  All rights reserved.
0
Dec 1, 2015
Dec 1, 2015 at 4:44 AM UTC
WHEN THE MIGHTY FALL
How come one can pass through a day believing that he has at least seen and achieved mediocre happiness to arrive home and realize his sadness? A sadness of sorts. Not really sad. More lonely Though he is self-driven (something his parents and piano teacher are quite proud of) And yet? Yet he cannot find fulfillment. He brinks on the edge of smart individual to scaling the wall of genius He attempts all things at his disposal and excels to the top of his pond only to look over the edge and see the vast ocean of bigger and better fish His self-motivation pushes him to yearn for the ocean, the means for his fruition Even if he was to reach the ocean, gain some weight and eventually become the biggest fish of his kind his satisfaction would not be present No The self-motivational man is plagued by eternal shortcomings in the fields of self-satisfaction and self-love He holds no value for the compliments and praises that he receives from his loving parents The love displayed toward him do not present an argument valid enough to convince his deductive mind that he is worthy of self-love His scars become trophies and his trophies a pile of garbage. His greatest sadness is that he sees a way to fulfillment Just before him He could reach-out-and-touch-it should he try He wants nothing more than to stretch his hand forward and accept the path to love: the path to happiness: the path to satisfaction And yet? He cannot bring himself to grab it. He reaches his hand forward again and again. The ethereal means within his grasp. And yet he cannot take hold. He cannot hold it because this power before him is greater than him Everything he has done so far has been done by him and now he must sit back and receive the ethereal grace? He must surrender He must not be driven by himself but instead a higher power and although he recognizes the authority of the higher power he does not submit to it He yearns to be in its presence And yet? He cannot surrender for to surrender to it is to deny everything he has ever known. To accept its grace he must be made new He must be born again Until he surrenders entirely (most likely in a long time for the self-driven man is stubborn) he shall experience the lonely dissatisfaction which already plagues him Until he surrenders entirely his happiness will only be mediocre and fleeting Disappearing as he walks through his front door and even more intense during the minutes of isolation that he showers each night And so he passes through life master of nothing, poisoned, for he cannot deny who he is to accept an antidote which he knows is supreme.
0
May 3, 2018
May 3, 2018 at 11:33 PM UTC
And Yet?
How come one can pass through a day believing that he has at least seen and achieved mediocre happiness to arrive home and realize his sadness? A sadness of sorts. Not really sad. More lonely Though he is self-driven (something his parents and piano teacher are quite proud of) And yet? Yet he cannot find fulfillment. He brinks on the edge of smart individual to scaling the wall of genius He attempts all things at his disposal and excels to the top of his pond only to look over the edge and see the vast ocean of bigger and better fish His self-motivation pushes him to yearn for the ocean, the means for his fruition Even if he was to reach the ocean, gain some weight and eventually become the biggest fish of his kind his satisfaction would not be present No The self-motivational man is plagued by eternal shortcomings in the fields of self-satisfaction and self-love He holds no value for the compliments and praises that he receives from his loving parents The love displayed toward him do not present an argument valid enough to convince his deductive mind that he is worthy of self-love His scars become trophies and his trophies a pile of garbage. His greatest sadness is that he sees a way to fulfillment Just before him He could reach-out-and-touch-it should he try He wants nothing more than to stretch his hand forward and accept the path to love: the path to happiness: the path to satisfaction And yet? He cannot bring himself to grab it. He reaches his hand forward again and again. The ethereal means within his grasp. And yet he cannot take hold. He cannot hold it because this power before him is greater than him Everything he has done so far has been done by him and now he must sit back and receive the ethereal grace? He must surrender He must not be driven by himself but instead a higher power and although he recognizes the authority of the higher power he does not submit to it He yearns to be in its presence And yet? He cannot surrender for to surrender to it is to deny everything he has ever known. To accept its grace he must be made new He must be born again Until he surrenders entirely (most likely in a long time for the self-driven man is stubborn) he shall experience the lonely dissatisfaction which already plagues him Until he surrenders entirely his happiness will only be mediocre and fleeting Disappearing as he walks through his front door and even more intense during the minutes of isolation that he showers each night And so he passes through life master of nothing, poisoned, for he cannot deny who he is to accept an antidote which he knows is supreme.
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34
Deductive: I. Poems are beautiful. II. This is a poem. III. This is beautiful. Inductive: I. Poems are all beautiful. II. This is a poem? III. I am not sure if this is a poem or beautiful.
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Dec 6, 2015
Dec 6, 2015 at 11:40 PM UTC
reasoning
Two paths in mind, Inductive and deductive, The science of truth.
0
Jun 20, 2015
Jun 20, 2015 at 8:24 AM UTC
71
When I’m not tapped into a music stream. I like quiet no - let’s be exact, I like silence ear plugs in - deafening quiet or better yet, noise cancelled anti-sound That’s relatively new technology My mom mentioned new studies suggest it may rewire things gray matter wise, you know, behind the eyes like the patterns sound forms in sand. But if you’re going to scramble my mind your going to have to wait in line behind bland 21-year-old issues like: sleep deprivation hormonal fluctuations romantic fog case study competitions business model design games (REALGAME) deductive logic puzzles irritability and mood swings mental bandwidth anxiety cognitive confusion information overload assignment stress premenstrual syndrome compulsive coping mechanisms career anxiety ****** frustration multitasking shifts (schedule) canon events (existential dilemmas) culture shock (new environment) feeling “scrambled” family pressures So, yeah. let’s fn Jettison headphone worries - MOM - shall we??! . . Right Now by The Creatures A Girl In Trouble (Is a Temporary Thing) by Romeo Void Your Turn to Run by Malaria!
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Jul 22, 2025
Jul 22, 2025 at 2:02 PM UTC
silencio
I came upon a wolf one day with eyes of fire and diamond-pelt the crystallization of deductive logic like a coat of snowflake swords His whiskers were syringe-needles dripping with the vaccine for stupidity which I think he must have developed in the laboratory of his moonlit mind Fear I had of wolves, but some dark fascination, a death-wish of my heart bid me to walk awhile with him and stroke his coat of blades until I bled and he licked my hands. But it was with fire, not ice, that he maimed me at first the little embers, the little burns the little ****** of something other than pure and peerless truth that came from inside of him, where the diamonds were not Your heart, friend wolf was only a long, deep stretch of feverish despair and though I would have licked your wounds as you licked mine you refused to bare them to me and bit me instead. Fear I had of wolves, once but now I bear the marks where his diamonds cut and his fire burned - a vaccine for stupidity if I ever had one.
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Jun 22, 2017
Jun 22, 2017 at 7:48 PM UTC
I Came Upon a Wolf
By: Cedric McClester Those who hate Will no doubt relate For massive harm Make a bomb In the kitchen of your mom Before you explode it Be sure to lock and load it So you won't implode it At your leader’s insistence It’s leaderless resistance Don’t ask for their assistance Before your nonexistence Just go out and do it Put total strangers through it The consequences, ***** it Besides, you already knew it Clearly be aware Of the dog-whistles you hear There’s no need for you to fear So get your *** in gear Without the least abatement Go out and make your statement Show the world what your hate meant And be sure not to relent So, if you find this instructive Then the natural deductive Is by nature you’re destructive And you’re also nonproductive When you show your cowardice By engaging in this You’re not only remiss Your ignorance is bliss Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2019.   All rights reserved.
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Aug 4, 2019
Aug 4, 2019 at 7:33 AM UTC
THOSE WHO HATE