Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
"deviations" poems
The power of Averages, it means a lot if you can understand Means, a lot. Assuming a Normal Distribution, A Standard Deviation, or σ defines where about 68% of the data falls; roughly 34% above and below the Mean. Two Standard Deviations defines where a further 28% of data lies; 14% above and below 1σ and -1σ. Positive 1-Sigma is one Standard Deviation above the Mean Negative 1-Sigma is one below; The range from -2σ to 2σ includes  96% of data. The implications are astounding. Within 3 Standard Deviations, one finds 99.7% of the data; Within 4σ, 99.9%, 5σ, 99.999%, the remainder are generally outliers and other improbable results. To illustrate: Suppose we had a group of 100 people, and we wish to determine average height: If our Mean height ends up being, say, 180 cm, with a Standard Deviation of 20cm, We can suppose that of 100 people, on average, with a certain Margin of Error that is inversely proportionate to our Sample Size, or n (for sake of argument, the Probable Error, or γ, is 13.49cm) 4 are taller than 220cm 14 are between 200cm and 220cm 68 are between 160cm and 200cm 14 are from 140cm to 160cm 4 are shorter than 140cm -- Statistics is the parent of Probability; Statistics is the Art and Science of Forecast, Statistics paves the way for modern Science Statistics is a powerful weapon in the fight against Ignorance Statistics, however, are generally and intentionally misrepresented and thus misunderstood. For increasingly accurate figures, one must have a larger Sample Size and a Sample group that is a representative subgroup of the Whole *This is intentionally abused by most of the News you read or see each day on Paper and Screens alike.* If a "Statistical analysis" does not include at least Margin of Error or Probable Error, Mean (Average), Standard Deviation, and Sample Size do not take it as accurate. Depending on the source, it could even be deliberately malicious. Arm yourself with Knowledge.
0
May 7, 2013
May 7, 2013 at 6:14 PM UTC
The Art and Science of Statistics
The power of Averages, it means a lot if you can understand Means, a lot. Assuming a Normal Distribution, A Standard Deviation, or σ defines where about 68% of the data falls; roughly 34% above and below the Mean. Two Standard Deviations defines where a further 28% of data lies; 14% above and below 1σ and -1σ. Positive 1-Sigma is one Standard Deviation above the Mean Negative 1-Sigma is one below; The range from -2σ to 2σ includes  96% of data. The implications are astounding. Within 3 Standard Deviations, one finds 99.7% of the data; Within 4σ, 99.9%, 5σ, 99.999%, the remainder are generally outliers and other improbable results. To illustrate: Suppose we had a group of 100 people, and we wish to determine average height: If our Mean height ends up being, say, 180 cm, with a Standard Deviation of 20cm, We can suppose that of 100 people, on average, with a certain Margin of Error that is inversely proportionate to our Sample Size, or n (for sake of argument, the Probable Error, or γ, is 13.49cm) 4 are taller than 220cm 14 are between 200cm and 220cm 68 are between 160cm and 200cm 14 are from 140cm to 160cm 4 are shorter than 140cm -- Statistics is the parent of Probability; Statistics is the Art and Science of Forecast, Statistics paves the way for modern Science Statistics is a powerful weapon in the fight against Ignorance Statistics, however, are generally and intentionally misrepresented and thus misunderstood. For increasingly accurate figures, one must have a larger Sample Size and a Sample group that is a representative subgroup of the Whole *This is intentionally abused by most of the News you read or see each day on Paper and Screens alike.* If a "Statistical analysis" does not include at least Margin of Error or Probable Error, Mean (Average), Standard Deviation, and Sample Size do not take it as accurate. Depending on the source, it could even be deliberately malicious. Arm yourself with Knowledge.
Continue reading...
51
I exist in a world of careful structure Taken out of Chaos and made habitable By strict planning and strict ruling— Structure is imperative Order keeps us going Deviations are not allowed If you wish to live in my world You must learn to follow rules Reliability is key Being dependable as the rising sun Predictable as a new moon Always infallible Disappointments are not tolerated Insufficient will be cast away Deviations are not allowed So if you can’t be trusted Then you don’t belong here There will be order in my house For in games of two, there can be no others There Are Rules And they exist to keep us out of Chaos They exist because structure Ensures that we don’t collapse So when your eyes are wandering You are marking yourself as inconstant Dangerous Unacceptable And I will stop at nothing Until you’ve suffered for every sweetness you’ve laid at another’s feet I will stop at nothing Until you’ve learned that you must always choose me I will burn you for every betrayal And some will call me jealous
0
Dec 27, 2011
Dec 27, 2011 at 5:41 PM UTC
Hera
/          the aesthete...                              and the athlete, i.e.                the "sophist",                      and the "philosopher"? ah... phonetics, rather linguistics: former: as-feet... but the latter? ancient greek in french: a(h)'f'lé'té. people should, really introduce a chemistry-style subscript for surds, most notably H, hay'chch, when dealing with such deviations from classicaly philosophy metaphysical concerns, and modern, orthography: this, the, now, types of "philosophical" inquiries: and i mean that as "philosophical": because i actualy mean... the favours of pedantry akin to being entertained by the intricacies of Versailles; you'd get more good-luck wishes in the form of horse-shoes hanging over your door in a small village in the ***** of gascony.
0
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 11:00 AM UTC
a simple posit question
right choices at the wrong time bad choices at the right time choices that change your life unexpected consequences contradictions leading you in arduous paths which will condition your trip deviations that turn against you choices of which you will regret every moment of your existence choices you have not completed lack of courage that you will regret until you run out of breath leaps into the void clashes wounds choices unavoidable words that define your being
0
Sep 27, 2016
Sep 27, 2016 at 4:14 AM UTC
choices
I am me Until I am not In the eyes of those who aren't me Their perception of my ulterior motives pierces every joke, compliment and remark I attempt to burrow out of my chamber and into their's But I find only confusion Did anybody notice or care? And if they did Did they care about me? Or the facade I built to buffer honesty? Disgust is spelled on the faces of those forced into proximity They view me as the canary in the coal mine of their life Their contempt shocks stillness into me Could we go back to pretending I'm human? Are they putting salt in the wound to preserve it? Or am I the remnants of a wasted youth? Or a constant reminder of failure? Do I help lower the bar to their own self worth? Maybe I'm just paranoid Is what I tell myself To feel better And I can drive down back roads all my life But that won't erase the shame I feel of the car I drive People sense my deviations and act accordingly Their words spray like a flamethrower Scorching my defenseless heart And although my sympathy goes out to the innocent civilians who were also hurt I was mortally wounded The well just continued to get deeper I am haunted by what lies underneath Afraid any passing archaeologist will dig it up And share his discovery with the world Then where will I hide?
0
May 22, 2017
May 22, 2017 at 4:25 PM UTC
Paranoia
Christian, Jew, Muslim. Jew, Muslim, Jew. Christian, and some Hindu. Muslim in an aero-plane. Jew, Jew. Coins of gold. Ringing ears of copper. Muslim, Muslim, Muslim. Die, Die, Die. Jew, Jew, Jew. A hole in the sky. And some stones. Defining deviations of Misleading truths. Christian owls, In Muslim skies, And Jew sands. A misfit's howl. Little children's hate. Brewing cyanide in your veins. Unhook my thoughts. Undress my pains. A cross in their mosque. And holy water, too. A gun in her mouth. Your hell is in you. Deceased sounds of A beauty queen. In my parade, of synthetic blood. An imprisoned laugh, In this plastic flood. Sweet tears of Your fragile unjust, Roaming a castle, In stale air… And doomed lust. A prophet in their church. And a dark beard, too. A bomb in her heart. Your heaven has escaped you.
0
Feb 2, 2010
Feb 2, 2010 at 11:33 PM UTC
Bring Your Dotted Lines
Give it all you got Only option left to choose Tip your cap Turn your back Throw up that deuce But, who woulda knew That clarity of concentration Comes from unexpected deviations From our anticipations Suddenly Shipwrecked Lost at sea Starin at that deep blue green Like, it's just you, And me And we are the masters behind these sails When our stories told It'll be the stuff of fairy tales The true master misses miserably alot What matters most is We take all our shots So this is my position Listen up I don't give a **** About you ***** Who don't give a **** You on the sidelines of the game What's it gonna take for you to lace em And step it up? I see you suckers pacin' Over self-made situations Like destiny isn't something we participate in But what if we switch stations Movin' makin' Anxious Amplification Got that body breakin' Beats to shuffle strutin' feet and Our music's the motivation Our life, our part Art over every evocation Trumpets triumphantly proclaim the pontification Sifting, shifting the breeze The time, they are a' changin' The rhythms's exquisite equations Derivative of internal escavated wisdoms Whimsical inquisitive exploration
0
Sep 16, 2012
Sep 16, 2012 at 6:58 AM UTC
Anxious Amplification
Your eyes burn in eager greens hazel upon inspection little strokes of fire in between Your lips part with intention always standing by every word I can feel sparks illuminate our contentions but it was deviations of feeling we always seemed to have heard Hands that want to hold but search for answers on my skin kindled comfort in passion felt their way in You intoxicate every cell and I'd rather not explain how each excessive thought is a sweeter taste of hell a simpler dose of pain.
0
Dec 28, 2014
Dec 28, 2014 at 3:27 PM UTC
Campfire Eyes
How is it that all I see and believe isn't more than what one can conceive? Trapped inside these bound'ries of mine, flipping and flopping down the stream of time, my thoughts not more than the glint of sunshine. So I laugh! I laugh! Great boisterous humor! To laugh and to giggle at the falseness and rumors; to snicker and snacker  at the play of all forms; to chortle and chuckle at deviations and norms; I will laugh at the process as my soul transforms. So I laugh! I laugh! Though pains may embitter! To laugh and to giggle at all senseless chatter; to snicker and snacker at what's caught within; to chortle and chuckle at all that is sin; I will laugh at the moment when nothing begins. So join me, my friend, and forget of your fears! We'll both laugh, together, at the grinding of gears; we'll both giggle, together, at prophets and seers. So join me, my friend, and forget of your aches! Laugh with abandon at this game and its stakes; laugh with abandon as this machinery breaks.
0
Apr 1, 2012
Apr 1, 2012 at 5:13 PM UTC
To Laugh
A solitary solecism An evaporating vision Premonitions and superstitions Withered hopes Amorphous, insubstantial Episodic swings Digressions and detours Evasions, deviations Changing lanes Accelerating and overtaking Swerving Inhibitions colliding.
0
Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 7:42 AM UTC
Red Lights
i never knew when forgiveness of ****** deviations equated to the obscurity of citizen allowances, whereby i was excused from doing **** like i was excused from having a conscience stealing your herd of sheep... but i guess i must have a medieval mentality, ******** childish, having to interpret the profanity of the tetragrammaton with the canonical gospels' acts of dispersion, you said ****** were akin to meat cleavers... fair enough... god forgives me butchering you like you were forgiven having a frolic in the hay... and we're all one big happy family... 'cos i swear that's when ambiguity on the dogma entered and the nadir was expressed: sin - ****** ambiguity - equated itself to crime - citizen ambiguity - you want to put that forth to Buddhist authority chaining ******** bandwagons of thieves en route to the Tibetan Vatican? only so much is allowed, given you're championing one Jew of your fancy while giving others the gas-chambers... ain't it just Prince's 1999... we're gonna party like it's 19-99.... i think you mistook sin with crimes... that's my "doctorate" opinion... you said **** with thieving being synonymous, Christ was saving Greek intellectual culture with the pederast **** to boot... St. Paul was encouraging circumcision, twat-like people with a statue of Buddha asking whether head meant the shaved one ****** or whether it meant the prickly one gagged on was on the cards - goose-pimple **** frostbite... the moment when the forgiveness of sin turned into the forgiveness of crime... hence such ****** freedoms right now, and a... ah... whatever... of challenged citizenship, why would i? why would anyone even bother? **** it, let's go crazy, Las Vegas is waiting for us, the cowboys will never churn out a Thatcher to "rule the world".
0
Jul 4, 2016
Jul 4, 2016 at 9:31 PM UTC
forgiveness of sin isn't exactly a forgiveness of crime, ********
i never knew when forgiveness of ****** deviations equated to the obscurity of citizen allowances, whereby i was excused from doing **** like i was excused from having a conscience stealing your herd of sheep... but i guess i must have a medieval mentality, ******** childish, having to interpret the profanity of the tetragrammaton with the canonical gospels' acts of dispersion, you said ****** were akin to meat cleavers... fair enough... god forgives me butchering you like you were forgiven having a frolic in the hay... and we're all one big happy family... 'cos i swear that's when ambiguity on the dogma entered and the nadir was expressed: sin - ****** ambiguity - equated itself to crime - citizen ambiguity - you want to put that forth to Buddhist authority chaining ******** bandwagons of thieves en route to the Tibetan Vatican? only so much is allowed, given you're championing one Jew of your fancy while giving others the gas-chambers... ain't it just Prince's 1999... we're gonna party like it's 19-99.... i think you mistook sin with crimes... that's my "doctorate" opinion... you said **** with thieving being synonymous, Christ was saving Greek intellectual culture with the pederast **** to boot... St. Paul was encouraging circumcision, twat-like people with a statue of Buddha asking whether head meant the shaved one ****** or whether it meant the prickly one gagged on was on the cards - goose-pimple **** frostbite... the moment when the forgiveness of sin turned into the forgiveness of crime... hence such ****** freedoms right now, and a... ah... whatever... of challenged citizenship, why would i? why would anyone even bother? **** it, let's go crazy, Las Vegas is waiting for us, the cowboys will never churn out a Thatcher to "rule the world".
Continue reading...
44
The window is rolled down halfway so I can let the ash off my cigarette. The music, which holds special meaning to us and faceless others who have been touched by it, blares from the dying speakers. The yellow lines snake ever onward, winding parallel to each other. Forever yearning to meet and always being denied. The sun went down so long ago that it is daring us to watch it rise. We are six cans of monster, two packs of Red 100's and eight hours past caring what the fickle thing decides to do. We are also two days past the desire to sleep at all. We tell jokes, poking fun of the things we don't dare in polite company. Enjoying the kind of monsters we can only be around each other. We share tales of our ****** deviations, more candid than we've ever been to anyone else. The lesser experienced, namely me, blush profusely at the notion of where parts of us have been. We lament lost love, unmitigated failure, wasted potential and the million little white lie excuses for why we've yet to become the icons we dreamed ourselves. When finally sleep begins to win the battle for control of our eye lids we take turns behind the wheel. The window is never rolled up, although I'm the only smoker aboard. It's constant noise a reassurance that we are still moving. Though in what direction is anyone's guess. We'll know our destination when we get there. We'll know when our bodies cry for food, or ***** or our girlfriends cry for us to come home. Mostly we'll know when we can't go any farther. When we have to turn around. I'll always remember our late night “adventures”. I'll be an old man, waiting on the final stroke of any clock I'll ever hear, and I'll still be listening for the reassuring sound of wind rushing past my half open window. Still feel the cold in my fingertips. Still feel the warmth and laughter in my heart. That has been your gift to me, my friends. I cherish it always.
0
Nov 13, 2010
Nov 13, 2010 at 8:37 PM UTC
Late night Adventure.
The window is rolled down halfway so I can let the ash off my cigarette. The music, which holds special meaning to us and faceless others who have been touched by it, blares from the dying speakers. The yellow lines snake ever onward, winding parallel to each other. Forever yearning to meet and always being denied. The sun went down so long ago that it is daring us to watch it rise. We are six cans of monster, two packs of Red 100's and eight hours past caring what the fickle thing decides to do. We are also two days past the desire to sleep at all. We tell jokes, poking fun of the things we don't dare in polite company. Enjoying the kind of monsters we can only be around each other. We share tales of our ****** deviations, more candid than we've ever been to anyone else. The lesser experienced, namely me, blush profusely at the notion of where parts of us have been. We lament lost love, unmitigated failure, wasted potential and the million little white lie excuses for why we've yet to become the icons we dreamed ourselves. When finally sleep begins to win the battle for control of our eye lids we take turns behind the wheel. The window is never rolled up, although I'm the only smoker aboard. It's constant noise a reassurance that we are still moving. Though in what direction is anyone's guess. We'll know our destination when we get there. We'll know when our bodies cry for food, or ***** or our girlfriends cry for us to come home. Mostly we'll know when we can't go any farther. When we have to turn around. I'll always remember our late night “adventures”. I'll be an old man, waiting on the final stroke of any clock I'll ever hear, and I'll still be listening for the reassuring sound of wind rushing past my half open window. Still feel the cold in my fingertips. Still feel the warmth and laughter in my heart. That has been your gift to me, my friends. I cherish it always.
Continue reading...
57
There are bodies in motion. Bumping into one another, as they drift through time and space. Each new contact creates a slight deviation in their course. They spin off, tangentially. Here in this city, where ambulance sirens make the sour notes of our love song, I sit missing you. Missing the contact. Missing our slight deviations.
0
Nov 17, 2010
Nov 17, 2010 at 2:28 AM UTC
Relativity.
if you only eat from a feedbin you have a limited number of grain kafka said the leopards would become part of the ceremony but no matter how many nights like this I keep waking up with out any wild animals or rather, any sense of the mystical rhythm that surely guides deviations from this steady alpine path. today when I got off the bus in Arequipa I realized that some people look up to the mountains, even in summer, and always see snow. and some people don't. and this is the way it goes? I dreamt South America would provide a release onto the page, and my words would set at least a dozen feet free but the more ******* I buy the more I realize that all I strive is to feel tired deserved or no and to lift my head and see snow. and some people don't. and this is the way it goes.
0
Apr 5, 2013
Apr 5, 2013 at 2:48 PM UTC
on arriving in the mountains
*Fairytale Evolutions, Terminating Digital Mutations, Simulated Sensations, Transcendent Revolutions, Hybrid Generations, Altering Stagnant Amplifications, Shape Shifting Constellations, Sterilizing Implications, Eliciting Blissful Animations, Decoding Kaleidoscopic Flirtations, Fabricating Holographic Dimensions, Reflecting Labyrinth Ramifications, Transgressional Diversifications, Empathetic Extortion, Serene Distortion, Subversive Contortion, Forging Conceptual Inoculations Violating Illusionary Variations, Incarnating Prototype Deviations, Radiating Subtle Speculations, Catalyzing Crystallized Civilizations. -01:09AM*
0
Feb 28, 2017
Feb 28, 2017 at 2:57 PM UTC
Prelude 3.0
Most poetry writing Is like a nighttime **** Standing or sitting in the dark Aiming as we let it flow. We judge by the sweet sound Of the deeper splash When we’re on the target, And hope our line stays true. We squeeze most poems and ****** out To get relief From a nagging feeling Deep inside. The deviations of our stream Spilled silent to the side Oft require Clean-up. And the outcome With that faint stale smell Is probably better flushed away Than saved or shared or admired.
0
Oct 8, 2011
Oct 8, 2011 at 6:31 PM UTC
Poetry ****
Describe my imperfections, In a trained diabolical voice, Fill in the cracks on my skin, With tender blessed nuzzles, Search for all the scars, & make them tell tales, Of me being the intermediary, Of the constant battles, Of angels & neighborhood demons, Siphon blood from my veins, Make a libation then taste, Then tell me if it's pure, I know I have flaws, I don't have habits, I have deviations, My bones are rusting, I have spiracles on my spinal column, To breath the breath of the sages, and my teeth fear the tongue, So the wording is usually prolific, I have hieroglyphs on my chin, Because it's shaped like a pyramid, My poems are imperfect, My word-crafting is iRreGular, Now change me if you can.
0
Jan 25, 2014
Jan 25, 2014 at 8:24 AM UTC
My Infinite Imperfections
I am not stupid or incapable Although my mind’s daily deviations Attest to errors and tricks in mine skull Of delusions – and every day tension Within the crannied pockets of my brain Watch the undeniable enmity Between the bird and the compelléd reign Of darling overlords and tricksome she But I will pretend, though it be in vain, That the chainéd bird does not wish to fly But instead hand to them the keys – my bane – And never dare yearn beyond the fake sky Goodbye to heart, to soul, to winsome dreams For I, instead, will do what they do deem.
0
Mar 13, 2017
Mar 13, 2017 at 6:00 PM UTC
A Sonnet: Disobedience
dearest, O my new, new love - will you grant me but 2 deviations? for I will love truly and give everything unto you; in all ways I’ll be the man you want me to be but in two - and grant those my only perversions, let them be: First - allow me to drive all my life; never take the wheel from me... you see, my dad never allowed me to drive and he threw me in the back seat and never even told me where he’d bring me and he’d dump me in my nana’s or in the shopping center sometime for a week or two and when I said Could I drive? He’d say: You? you **** You’re only 22! So now when we settle down and build our own nest you must really let me drive like hell really let me be the driver and let me drive never you take the wheel you can sit like a Queen in the passenger seat and I’ll drive you wherever you want to but Oh - promise, promise, never take the wheel from me... And the 2nd deviation, before I forget... I do have the habit of digging my nose whenever I’m happy and so when I’m at the wheel you can bet your last dollar I’ll be digging my nose (the 2 go together) so you must promise to let me be and let me dig my nose as I drive for nothing makes me happier so never, never O please never ever rap on my knuckles when I dig my nose like my mum did with her steel ruler whenever I put my fingers in my nose O if you can promise me these 2 that you’ll allow these 2 perversions to be the normal rule in our love - Oh, then I’ll be the happiest man ever... Now excuse me, while I dig my nose...
0
Oct 28, 2011
Oct 28, 2011 at 2:58 PM UTC
2nd song for the love of my life
dearest, O my new, new love - will you grant me but 2 deviations? for I will love truly and give everything unto you; in all ways I’ll be the man you want me to be but in two - and grant those my only perversions, let them be: First - allow me to drive all my life; never take the wheel from me... you see, my dad never allowed me to drive and he threw me in the back seat and never even told me where he’d bring me and he’d dump me in my nana’s or in the shopping center sometime for a week or two and when I said Could I drive? He’d say: You? you **** You’re only 22! So now when we settle down and build our own nest you must really let me drive like hell really let me be the driver and let me drive never you take the wheel you can sit like a Queen in the passenger seat and I’ll drive you wherever you want to but Oh - promise, promise, never take the wheel from me... And the 2nd deviation, before I forget... I do have the habit of digging my nose whenever I’m happy and so when I’m at the wheel you can bet your last dollar I’ll be digging my nose (the 2 go together) so you must promise to let me be and let me dig my nose as I drive for nothing makes me happier so never, never O please never ever rap on my knuckles when I dig my nose like my mum did with her steel ruler whenever I put my fingers in my nose O if you can promise me these 2 that you’ll allow these 2 perversions to be the normal rule in our love - Oh, then I’ll be the happiest man ever... Now excuse me, while I dig my nose...
Continue reading...
48
Maybe I'm just a Few standard deviations Off of what's normal
0
Dec 25, 2016
Dec 25, 2016 at 2:46 AM UTC
Deviant
Hair down, chin up! That's what I ask, that you don't give up! To the girl crying inside the stall, or the one that's overcompensating, shopping spree at the mall. Hair down, chin up, for your sake not mine, I want you to walk, in a great straight line. Take no more deviations, off the path, fill your world with love, and do not participate in it's reveling wrath! I say to you, mother of 1, 2, 3, 5 or more, do not ever, close your door. Lock the front, guard the back, but listen mother, to your children today, for you do not know, how much longer you or they, may stay. To the lonely wife, and with a husband now gone for so long. Hold on tight to his memories, and pray to make much more, and to him and only him, should ever open the door. Times will test you, trials will be hard, and never ever ever, throw down the give-up card. Because he'll need you more than ever, and I hope that you do know this, that for ever day he's gone, he longs for 10 fold, for a kiss. To the young girls around the age, of aging immaturity, I plead to you to think it over, know when you are ready. Perhaps you love him, with all your heart and soul, but do not lose sight, of an average person's goal. Love grows fonder when practiced with care, you are young yet, and troubles have yet to begun, will either of you still stand there? Perhaps this is a rambling of a senile old man, or do I speak at least a modest truth, as simple as I can? I'll let you decide as to where the story leads, these are little food for thought, the thought that I feed. Now look up, and around, soon as this song is done, open your eyes anew, your story has just begun. Where ever you go, whomever you're in the company of, Hair Down, Chin up, and never ever, give up on love.
0
Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 11:33 PM UTC
Hair Down, Chin up!
Hair down, chin up! That's what I ask, that you don't give up! To the girl crying inside the stall, or the one that's overcompensating, shopping spree at the mall. Hair down, chin up, for your sake not mine, I want you to walk, in a great straight line. Take no more deviations, off the path, fill your world with love, and do not participate in it's reveling wrath! I say to you, mother of 1, 2, 3, 5 or more, do not ever, close your door. Lock the front, guard the back, but listen mother, to your children today, for you do not know, how much longer you or they, may stay. To the lonely wife, and with a husband now gone for so long. Hold on tight to his memories, and pray to make much more, and to him and only him, should ever open the door. Times will test you, trials will be hard, and never ever ever, throw down the give-up card. Because he'll need you more than ever, and I hope that you do know this, that for ever day he's gone, he longs for 10 fold, for a kiss. To the young girls around the age, of aging immaturity, I plead to you to think it over, know when you are ready. Perhaps you love him, with all your heart and soul, but do not lose sight, of an average person's goal. Love grows fonder when practiced with care, you are young yet, and troubles have yet to begun, will either of you still stand there? Perhaps this is a rambling of a senile old man, or do I speak at least a modest truth, as simple as I can? I'll let you decide as to where the story leads, these are little food for thought, the thought that I feed. Now look up, and around, soon as this song is done, open your eyes anew, your story has just begun. Where ever you go, whomever you're in the company of, Hair Down, Chin up, and never ever, give up on love.
Continue reading...
33
Then the Universe will find her peace As chaos settles, deviations cease On a hill, the glint of a telescope eye, Will watch as the Sun, Earth and Moon align A city will cheer as looming tides recede And my life shall once again be stripped bare, clean
0
Aug 11, 2021
Aug 11, 2021 at 1:13 AM UTC
Inevitably
in most instances there is no real criticism - just the debate as old as the life of Aristotle, so lagging behind modern liberty - the deviations of the two extremes, the nicely polished marble and the coarse flint - a debate concerning nouns - one man will venture into marble synonymousness - another man will venture into flint synonymousness - but still the monism of saying one thing adversely or conversely - one layer on top of another, like a wedding cake - sooner will the adverse noun usage emerge - sooner too will the converse noun use emerge - and make battle for what society is entitled to - well, both! the pleasantries of the nouns surrogate and mother, damnable essentials of two homosexuals and a ********** - i know, the former and all the pleasantries and pigmented macaroons, the latter and dirges and the dingy back alley - one stands up for pleasantries the other for the coarse mountain view - one sees a mountain of the jagged panorama, the other a normal distribution curve - both have peaks, one's a woo *** slide on your *** the other a carefully calculated descent - so you wonder how certain words are encoded to create a certain emotion - one thing to understand a string of words: do this do that, walk over here, walk over there - and the other string of words: feel this, feel that, think this, think that - perplexing - mostly the dichotomy of seeing and hearing - a dualism is an acceptance of the two extremes as a constant - a dichotomy is a lack of acceptance of the two extremes, they are never consolidated - dichotomy represents an active game of ping pong, dualism represents: a ping pong table, two ping pong rackets and a ping pong ball... but no actual activity - dualism in theory, dichotomy in practice.
0
Apr 9, 2016
Apr 9, 2016 at 9:35 AM UTC
concerning critique
in most instances there is no real criticism - just the debate as old as the life of Aristotle, so lagging behind modern liberty - the deviations of the two extremes, the nicely polished marble and the coarse flint - a debate concerning nouns - one man will venture into marble synonymousness - another man will venture into flint synonymousness - but still the monism of saying one thing adversely or conversely - one layer on top of another, like a wedding cake - sooner will the adverse noun usage emerge - sooner too will the converse noun use emerge - and make battle for what society is entitled to - well, both! the pleasantries of the nouns surrogate and mother, damnable essentials of two homosexuals and a ********** - i know, the former and all the pleasantries and pigmented macaroons, the latter and dirges and the dingy back alley - one stands up for pleasantries the other for the coarse mountain view - one sees a mountain of the jagged panorama, the other a normal distribution curve - both have peaks, one's a woo *** slide on your *** the other a carefully calculated descent - so you wonder how certain words are encoded to create a certain emotion - one thing to understand a string of words: do this do that, walk over here, walk over there - and the other string of words: feel this, feel that, think this, think that - perplexing - mostly the dichotomy of seeing and hearing - a dualism is an acceptance of the two extremes as a constant - a dichotomy is a lack of acceptance of the two extremes, they are never consolidated - dichotomy represents an active game of ping pong, dualism represents: a ping pong table, two ping pong rackets and a ping pong ball... but no actual activity - dualism in theory, dichotomy in practice.
Continue reading...
48
The sun is now above us, our vision no longer blurred the path is now clear, as too are the many deviations we see our destination but know not which way to go each path leading forwards with no hope of coming back all is not as it seems yet all seems as it is
0
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 1:49 PM UTC
II - The middle