"estimations" poems
I rest upon the windowsill of life’s great expectations
Watching as the world spins by so fast
Not blinded by all the well established estimations
The world brings into our vision from the past
Curiosity and depth of soul have made me who I am
Proudly resting in my own individuality
Watching with no expectations from the windowsill of life
Freely existing in my own personality
Who you are and what you do is of great interest to my soul
Yet I have no expectations of you my friend
I am so very happy to watch you from the windowsill of life
Free to be the individual you hold within
If you will come and sit beside me and rest upon life’s windowsill
We will watch together as the world spins by so fast
Just accept me as I am and I will do the same for you
Such a splendid friendship we will have
Jun 17, 2010
Jun 17, 2010 at 3:59 AM UTC
tattoo ourselves in electric ink memorializing calendars,
diaries of observantional digits, black on white, no gray,
birthdays, anniversaries, dates of passing, starting lines,
occasional achievements, departure dates, even glaring failures,
sundial mundane records of diurnal habitude…even
defining self by, bye, byte marks upon flesh, upon our calendar
*not my first trip-tracking, he ruefully rues, wry smiling,
many voyages of indeterminate measuring length,
leaving litter of arrays of hopeful estimations & destinations,
each unequal, any or all possibilities, each day notated,
without critique or commentary, the numbers are the
gaols (jails) of goals, target, indeterminate determination,
terrific, horrific, introspections, inverse images resolve, resolute*
a year ago, +/- a few days,, new travelogue commenced,
notated but not annotated, just numerical truths,
(sans comments for the divine nature of numbers don’t lie)
and today my calculator app informs, that I am now
19.4 % lesser, but that clarifies less than expected
naturally this provokes a natty,
spirited, self-inquiry, lessened,
lessor, for better or for worse?
have the physical alterations
accompanying this reduction
mean exactly what,
if, it should be, a greater lesser?
here is the hard part.
your have always been a mirror~poet,
laughing, bemoaning the unvarnished, unshaven
AM sightings of a human perpetual dissatisfied,
the external never denying the interior “less~than,”
a J Peterman catalogue of weathered ****** expressions,
counter-parted by multiple Venn diagram intersections,
of experiential labeled bits & pieces of emotional empirical
less than good, not even close to perfect, so now that I am
*gaunt, spare, lean, grayed, narrower, again ruefully rue,
the even more visible truth reflection eye~hidden:*
I,
am the sum of the weight of my history, my deeds,
my disbeliefs, murderous deeds, weak choices
and that hasn’t changed nary an ounce, no matter
many times examined, indeed I am forever a lesser man,
there, internal infernal
too…
Apr 9, 2023
Apr 9, 2023 at 2:12 PM UTC
1. I must let go of my expectations
whenever you put forward an idea
the idea of how happiness and bitterness
should work
you put forth expectations
on how the world works
it will surprise you every time
show the flip of the coin
if we do not live moment by moment
allowing each to have it's own
Importance
we label ourselves with
the falacy of past and future
we remember the past as only we can
Individually
we know the future by estimations
of consequence
in regard to present decisions
each day we are born anew
each day is a lifetime
a chance to Be change
to experience life according
to the gleam in our eye
label me by my past
and you label my ghost
my ghost doesn't care - it's only an imagined
imprint in the Now.
2. Happiness does not depend on
the opinions of others
there will always be those
for whom my joy
will cause the ugly head
of Cerebus to raise
and try to bite
their hair they pull
their teeth they gnash
in frustration of seeing
someone else
achieve that highest goal
of contentment within the self
it is human nature
within the viewfinder of history
to enjoy the suffering of others
even when we decry to the contrary
I must stand alone -
if I cannot be happy
in my quietest places
then that golden nugget
of bliss has not been truly found
the fire I light is for my
Own Illumination
I have no control
over the reactions of others
they may share in my epiphanies
or war against me - I never know which
but, I will always stand
within my own subjective reality
and know
My Own Truth.
Sep 24, 2010
Sep 24, 2010 at 9:55 AM UTC
Broken and wounded, I am a wreck
I am the shadows of dust
the sands of lost worlds
The pauses in rhythms constant
the gaps in words spoken
I believe in change
I see evolution with a revolution
only just with trust invested and not confusion
Poetry is my refuge when facing mind pollution
I slow the chaos and feel constriction
I Spiral in a twirling wave, repitition my addiction
I am mopping the dirt of my own flaws
I am a slave to this dictation
I believe in breaking free, like a tender worn leaf
I whisper to nature and speak to trees
The sweetness conveyed sends me bees
I fly to the ocean skies and wish a cloud bright were mine
I break a hundred times, this then of success a thousand times - a sign
I am a wreck looking to work
I believe in chance and romance
I remember honour before fear and cowardice
some believe in Jesus
some believe in Science, calculations and estimations
some believe in Satan, accepting that he is a victim in this whole situation
some believe that you shouldn't believe, but that is a belief outside of the common belief logical complex
I am a wreck searching for repair
a broken lover looking for a heart none can compare
I swallow the smoke wild in the air
I am a beast of Samson's hair...
The star running on ground when cheerleaders cheer
I am a wreck looking to share, a breath of vitality with those who may dare.
Jul 13, 2013
Jul 13, 2013 at 5:18 PM UTC
This is expository in nature
Hang on tight
Serenity of life
Gray skies for the choices I
Find time to make
Right up until the rain
Comes down
Real time precipitation
For the sole reason
Of flooding my soul
Charging the clouds
With negative energy
Eventuality says they'll burst
Sooner or later
And as the water flows down to the earth
Then up and over my teeth
Nearly up to my shoulders
Growing ever higher
Ever getting closer
It was all inevitability
Trying to change the sky
Is slowly ******* killing me
With every single storm
That rolls by
Its beyond me
And you too
Too soon
When will I be taken?
Who can tell
But hell, if I don't know when
When time itself never began
**** estimations, and **** plans
One way to escape
We all know the way
A darkened cave
A lonely overhang
No one dares approach for
Fear of going missing
There's so much more I wanted to say
Words and phrases before
I made my final escape
This cave I know
May be too cold
For The embolden spirits
Who hold on dearly to
Earthy merit
But know this
No one will be missed
In a minute
Jul 9, 2017
Jul 9, 2017 at 3:59 AM UTC
i draw you but i cant draw
i draw you, but its rough
i draw my estimations
erase. draw. erase.
you're still here. erase. you're still here.
i draw you and tear up the paper
there you are, in the distance
i draw back a bow
and see the lead smudge across your chest
Mar 15, 2019
Mar 15, 2019 at 7:58 PM UTC
How many complete pathways of choices are there?
OR
How many choices are left to achieve completion [!]
Either offers an accurate divisor into the number of possibilities "n" roughly at whatever is the above determined level which is a power called "m". n^m, roughly...divided by either the # of pathways or the choices that are left [!] to completion.
Either divisor will serve by ridding us of duplicate iterations of over-multiplied possibilities inside of roughly n^m.
Put another way, simple estimations of "n" at the indicated power level do not recognize that
1) more than one path arrives to a conclusion;
Nor do simple estimations at indicated power levels recognize that
2) apparent particulars from which to work toward completion are actually not different particulars--half of them are double counted at the level of being two choices from complete due to the dimensionality of the whole becoming complete.
So the impact of having a divisor is strongest either when:
1) working toward completion from levels that already include almost all dimensions of particulars or else
2) whenever operating at low levels of power which have only a few pathways.
Estimations of possibilities are easily too high if not considering the adjustments for cases 1) and 2).
These are for occasions of having more than one possibility.
However:
The number of complete outcomes that are reachable, divided by all choosable pathways = n/n = 1 .
Or else, any one outcome chosen from its penultimate particulars through to completeness = 1/1 = 1 .
Thus,
Singular possibility is by definition, complete, whole, created, ultimate, and embraced in all of its dimensions. It is both one easily won and/or one, fully, dimensionally itself.
(Whatever is not and is not divided,
or, is nothing left unchosen
= truly naught and something not found = 0.)
Sources: Closed dimensional choice paths (the geometry of the powers depicted) and Pascal's Triangle
Jun 25, 2012
Jun 25, 2012 at 5:50 AM UTC
Finger to lips
Icing to lick
Smiles come with drips
Heavy words can be syrup or iron ores
Either way they are anchors
Never mind creed
Love can feel like a chore
I got my hang ups
I got my fists
Hanging on to phrases that chap my lips
And destroy my finger tips
People should point at something
Like they are certain
I thought I would by now have to rely on one person
Only human nature to count on
Like a ******* I want my cake too
No icing left
I need something new
Jun 9, 2013
Jun 9, 2013 at 3:01 AM UTC
It's the day after
I've spent the memories on other things
I sat at a candled table
eased into wicker chairs
with plush cushions
and cigarette smoke coiling into the humid air.
I-among others- wet our tongues on sweet wine
and sampled crumbled cake from antique bakeries
sipped steaming tea from tin kettles
and laughed as coins jingled in our pockets
and happiness jostled against our souls.
I spent the day after
not thinking about that hurt
but rather forgetting for a while
that just the day before
you had fallen far
in my estimations.
Jul 5, 2013
Jul 5, 2013 at 4:35 AM UTC
lost ardor, long hidden beneath these initial wastes
pinpointing the mines and matters, estimations and worth
your excavation operating on the surface of my bereavement
without any evaluation of its dolorous costs or the extent
of these ductile veins, rivers through our subterranean natures
your shadow requirements, eroded and befouled
now, neither my eyes nor I much love your dark
epicardial secrets, projecting deposits of debris, the chloride fragrance
of our secrets, hidden fires underground; your love, all and away
digging, mining proposed new lovers out of us both; gravels and
pain and gas; ferrous exploration; uranium reclamation anew via
caustic layers of ore and deposits of once-flowing love
alloys of dead flowers and waste form my rocks
seething into scabrous life like bantling cacti after a lover has risen
such risks always require a proportion of love be livid, recoverable;
threads of passion dissolved in the complexities of the body
grains of unconsolidated minerals evoking love and potash
yes, secret metallurgists like you pose acidic dangers
to my soft endocardial things
Jun 23, 2019
Jun 23, 2019 at 12:59 PM UTC
In my estimations
It took three months
For you to realize
Without me, life *****
So we can rekindle the flame
Begin to work on us
It's unfortunate,
but it took so much longer
than I had expected
to get my life order
Organized and sorted
So the mission is simple
I can't afford to abort it
Camoflagued and watching
From a fairy tale forest
Plotting my options
Before raiding the fortress
I'm thinking 60/40
It could end like those stories
Jan 15, 2016
Jan 15, 2016 at 7:09 PM UTC
tattoo ourselves in electric ink memorializing calendars,
diaries of observantional digits, black on white, no gray,
birthdays, anniversaries, dates of passing, starting lines,
occasional achievements, departure dates, even glaring failures,
sundial mundane records of diurnal habitude…even
defining self by, bye, byte marks upon flesh, upon our calendar
*not my first trip-tracking, he ruefully rues, wry smiling,
many voyages of indeterminate measuring length,
leaving litter of arrays of hopeful estimations & destinations,
each unequal, any or all possibilities, each day notated,
without critique or commentary, the numbers are the
gaols (jails) of goals, target, indeterminate determination,
terrific, horrific, introspections, inverse images resolve, resolute*
a year ago, +/- a few days,, new travelogue commenced,
notated but not annotated, just numerical truths,
(sans comments for the divine nature of numbers don’t lie)
and today my calculator app informs, that I am now
19.4 % lesser, but that clarifies less than expected
naturally this provokes a natty,
spirited, self-inquiry, lessened,
lessor, for better or for worse?
have the physical alterations
accompanying this reduction
mean exactly what,
if, it should be, a greater lesser?
here is the hard part.
your have always been a mirror~poet,
laughing, bemoaning the unvarnished, unshaven
AM sightings of a human perpetual dissatisfied,
the external never denying the interior “less~than,”
a J Peterman catalogue of weathered ****** expressions,
counter-parted by multiple Venn diagram intersections,
of experiential labeled bits & pieces of emotional empirical
less than good, not even close to perfect, so now that I am
*gaunt, spare, lean, grayed, narrower, again ruefully rue,
the even more visible truth reflection eye~hidden:*
I,
am the sum of the weight of my history, my deeds,
my disbeliefs, murderous deeds, weak choices
and that hasn’t changed nary an ounce, no matter
many times examined, indeed I am forever a lesser man,
there, internal infernal
too…
Apr 16, 2023
Apr 16, 2023 at 3:57 PM UTC
You like me too much
You think I am better than I am
I am uncomfortable with
Your vision of me
It is a poor reflection of society
That it is sometimes more comfortable
To be underestimated
Than it is to be overestimated
But
I’m not sure what it says about me
May 31, 2023
May 31, 2023 at 4:14 PM UTC