"factoring" poems
Peppermint creme-filled fingers
dabble nothing;
sleep through alarms and dislocated anger sockets
every morning.
And there are flyers littering my floor
speaking truths I never wanted
and never knew
through band names shock factoring
their ardent prisons.
Attention is a world currency,
just like ***
just like symmetry,
and the plates shift
while my plates sit
in the aluminum sink
in my kitchen.
Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 1:02 PM UTC
Let us begin in the factoring of gin where the malefactors and blaggards try hard not to show us a grin.
and begin.
Factor out taste and factor in waste in the factory, in any case nobody cares,and the gin could be anything from nappies to ****** toys for the big boys and pearls for the girls,but we call it gin.
and begin.
They're all scammers,flim flamming their way from the start to the end of each day and we pay,through the nose,for **** knows what,(a touch of soylent green),get your brains on toast,shin for sunday roast and the marketeers,new age buccaneers blow us out of the water,someone should have taught me how cruel this life can be.
and we begin.
Back in the factory buying up gin with a passion,the fashionistas get ****** on the fumes and the poor people are shown only crap filled back rooms where the gnomes sit to **** out, tomorrow we'll sit out in the sun,spit out what's home spun and make money from telling funny jokes to the poker faced liars and the gin filled flash buyers who have bought up our Christmas and resold it to China,
'and it's another fine mess dear Laurel,please pass me the bottle of 'mist chloral'.
'Why certainly' said Stanley who seemed ever so manly in the valley when the dolls had gone home.
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 5:31 AM UTC
In algebra there is a method for factoring polynomials
called "guess and check."
You figure out the factors A and C
and mix and match them until you find something equal to the original problem.
It's a good analogy for this feeling, these moments, where a direct answer escapes me, or you.
So I am left with no other method,
besides "guess and check."
Sometimes the first few guesses find the answers, sometimes you have to try it twenty different ways.
I am exhausted by this constant guess,
of what A and C equal.
An onerous search for the variables to solve the equation of making you happy.
Dec 5, 2018
Dec 5, 2018 at 1:26 AM UTC
Eventually
We all become believers
You will see
We all hit the gutters
And deceive
What we know
Into what we need
Feeding
On the hope
To cope
With the NO
Of every plea
Foiling
The gaping holes
While fruitlessly
Feathering dreams
Of ceasing
To be
Anywhere but there
Anywhere but here
Afraid and aware
Lying barren
On a hair
To everywhere
But where we want to be
Your everything
Believed in our belief
In our grieving
Of a meme
Obsolete and teething on a ***
Seething in seeing it
Unseamed
And undone
Unto nothing
Disconnected dots
Unlit
Breathing out
And away
From meaning
Slightly clinging
To the things
Believed
To Matter
Scattered over
The tattered matters
In meteor
Metaphors
Seeding
The other chapters
But not until after
Factoring in
The tractor beams
Of nothing
Just waiting
On the bottom
Of the gut
Crawling up
The throat lumps
And stuffing our luck
With all the succulent stuff
We are made of
Until eruptions
Of higher functions
Save us
From the ****
When enough
Is enough
And we just stop
Giving a ....
And let go
Blow after blow
Until we know
Who is in control
Of what is real
And what is
Made up
From atoms to the eave
Of our dreams
We must glean
What we need to
To get us through
These words
Of hurt
Out from lurking
In the work
Of our enemies
Forever tempting me
To blaspheme
In the wake
Of your passing
The endeavoring
Ever lasting
In careful mapping
Of the synapses
Collapsing
Into relief
Though brief
Locked in eternity
Oh the possibilities
My everything
And my humility
Locked in a single thought
In anxiety
Gone quietly
My hands before me
Steady
Always ready
Blanket me
In blank
Make me
Or break me
Take me
To forever
Jun 12, 2013
Jun 12, 2013 at 1:03 AM UTC
Another heady day blooms and gathers pace
Spring dawns at 5 a.m. with a gargle and spit in the dark
Big rain drops and falls
Soft blood red wet cherry stones of bath salts
Splayed across my ageing face
Autumn showers then walks
The spiderweb of ragged birdsong feathers and
Threads through the branches
Of just November trees
Autumnal hymnal
Singing through the dying darkness, whispering
Don’t capture the light
And walking jogs thought
Factoring rebuke as Information unwanted
Proof then reproof
The tarmac fields of youth
Tilled by broken hands with
Broken men mending pipes and wires
Time leaves a presage- a butterfly mark
Autumn leaves their signals sending winter’s mark
Beauty colours death
Dec 15, 2009
Dec 15, 2009 at 1:29 AM UTC
*Poetry is a
well-oiled function,
processing sentiments
for posterity*
**Poetry is an extension
of our core elements,
royally regurgitated**
Jul 22, 2015
Jul 22, 2015 at 10:00 AM UTC
There’s a feeling called
the drifting force
that makes you want
to shift your course
and find a better vector
on boring study nights.
They’re so many things
a girl starts missing,
like hugging, dancing
and oh, yes kissing,
when she lets a dry syllabus
control her life.
After several hours
of intensive reading,
your intuition is that
what you’re needing,
is something we’ll
politely call ‘delights’.
But you make the almost
painful choice
and factor out your inner voice
and you pick up yet another book
and not a boy,
because, you see - it’s really
a necessity, not a choice.
Sep 13, 2023
Sep 13, 2023 at 7:32 PM UTC
Betting on plays
And whether teams could pull it through;
Factoring rates given to the risks
Versus stats, records, and rankings,
Of losses, successes, et cetera.
Whether physical or digital,
These playful monetary mediums
Like domestic feline & bengal tiger.
Like dog as like cat,
It's a different reaction to them
And connection with them
Having grown up around them.
These paper jaguars & plush lions,
So much for the fear of adversity
When you're trying to crunch everything.
If you're always in the middle
Of working through or thinking about something,
Punching an equation,
Then how can anyone hope
To knock you off kilter?
It's just another component-
Another addition & subtraction,
Division & multiplication,
To calculate & sum.
You've gotta be in it to win it,
And you're always just one bet away
From winning it big.
Making it good
Sometimes takes all it can take,
And even then you might not
Break even.
I sense disturbance,
See some malign figure,
In your line of reason.
Yet, through our conversations,
No appeal can be made to logic.
The calculations offer a grime visage.
Play with your heart, play with your gut,
As your head will steer you wrong.
If you're thinking about it,
You're thinking too much.
Just lay it on the line,
Bet it all,
But don't bet too much.
Listen, it'll be fine.
Tomorrow we can
Recoup your loss.
The contradictions are lost,
The irony was over
And you took the under.
The spread accomplished
Chose the given
And you were taking.
If something flew
You were beneath it.
Feb 10, 2025
Feb 10, 2025 at 1:04 PM UTC
Conjecturing on the intimate remnants of your heart
surmising on the proper way to dissect its parts
delving into the chasm that holds your most private illusions of grandeur
bewildered by the vast expanses, these weathered lips simply stammer
the complexity of the concept left me stifled, mouth failing to make any attempts at offering kind words
as the reverberations of vocal chords became the only sound we heard
ricocheting off the precipices of your heart's unsurmountable walls
useless like hands digging the sands in fruitless attempts to draw
the full force off the ocean from a shallow hole
I stared at the blueprints of your heart's desires failing to find the control
every route on the schematic
seemed as if inner city traffic
flooded with passengers never fulling knowing when they will reach their destination rightfully so, at the center of your attention
as I sketch out the dimensions
factoring in the time it will take to find the route that leads me back to you
I marvel at the resiliency of your heart, then drive straight through
beyond these hallowed walls lies a future I was destined to reach
I shred these maps, light a match and burn all the blueprints of me...
Feb 21, 2013
Feb 21, 2013 at 12:53 AM UTC
Factoring in and tendering out..
What the hell are those things about?
I'm afraid I am lost in the costing and routeing
and..what is the price from Balham to Tooting?
But when time's out of sync
As it usually is when I've had me a drink
Or I'm pie eyed on the dope.
What's left is no hope
There is no way I can work..I might as well sleep..
..and hope time will keep its hands to itself.
But all joking aside with this modernisation there is nowhere to hide
From the tide
Or from time.
Jun 19, 2012
Jun 19, 2012 at 2:04 PM UTC
if youve had to think about it,
youve not felt it. youll never know when,
or where.
when is maybe right down the road,
however the the where is only seen before its told.
speaking of this treasured feeling,
trapped brain drinking till steeping.
its never dispersed,
its the f$@"in jealous of me,
feeds the more greed i am,
means describing how much i need.
you, how bout maybe that is my thirst.
i would have to wish this feeling upon my worst enemy,
only just so he can lift his cursed.
that mother 4@£er is now apart of an anemone.
a blood runingg trigger on trying more remedies,
that will never leave the heard. my only feeling is for you,
is its the suggestions never blurred, maybe like a seven letter word,
written on my skin,
never burning ink like tin.
feeding soul demons like that incased in
a bin.
spending every liability
and factoring flavors of interest bigger in numbers for our worldly driven.
teaming
feeding
only seeping
never sleeping tweaking
while speaking
and thinking.
Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 10:03 PM UTC
make love to the radio!
enjoy the taste undercover
and cherish it in the whole lot
until it’s bone-crushing delight
let me come utterly across you
where we can cover
over each part of the universe
while we still have access
overdue for liable spree
and disciple to the entire world
to make sure the show
is worth every bit of the admission
let’s form a mental picture of it
and partake into all of the human experience
try your hand at factoring my figures
tip your hat to my complex
so you can take all your know-how
and superimpose it on around me
together we can shelve our fears
and luxuriate into all the human experience
Jun 21, 2013
Jun 21, 2013 at 10:39 AM UTC
i am at a friends house when your favorite song starts to play. i forgot you two like the same bands. i dont ask her to skip it, instead let it play, as i recount the numerous times ive heard you sing it to me. i can see your smile in the speckled white paint of her kitchen, hear your voice in my ears anytime she says my name. i am wearing my favorite shirt, and it is only when i am halfway to her bathroom that i realize it is the shirt you bought me for christmas. i look at my feet as i sit back down to see the shoes you bought me for my birthday, i look around to find the bracelet that you made and sent to me adorning my wrist and i wonder when my life became so for you and i dont want to think about this but how can i write about the importance of factoring quadratics when the most important thing to me is you? i didnt want to write a poem this time but ive found myself doing just that with your name as the subject line and your heart as the foundation and i hope there is never another day when i write a sad story with your name for the main character but with a heart like this, whos to say what goes?
May 24, 2016
May 24, 2016 at 10:30 PM UTC
If I were a sound
I would be the sound
of wind
forgotten amidst
the cacophony of life
but ever present
whipping through the trees
surrounding you
in the distant sound
of far away places
If I were an animal
I would be a mouse
quiet
so as not to be found
but living with you
in the wall
the floor
anywhere you won't look
I don't wish to be seen
so I scurry
living off the scraps
of my housemate
If I were a number
I would be the number
eleven
two thin lines
that are ignored when factoring
lost in the scramble
to scribble down notes
two lines that are
separate
but the same
and sometimes distant
If I were a person
I would be the person
in the back
head down
hair in my eyes
so no one sees
the truth that lies
in them
That I am
the wind
I am
a mouse
the number eleven
that I would be
in the back
But I'm not
because you put a hand up
to block the wind
bought a cat
to **** the mouse
were dividing by two
so didn't need eleven
and looked back
in class
and sneered
at the person there
Dec 2, 2013
Dec 2, 2013 at 1:26 PM UTC
Morning winds
reminds me of songs that might
have been written thousands
of years ago.
A song that breaths life in your being.
A song that might be the reason to
evolve your genetic composition.
Or the windy sound of
your dark hours.
I am not good at maths- when it comes to heart.
I just love with sincere joy. May be, just may-be, that
is the reason, why I am an easy target.
Like a factor factoring itself.
Or like the color of your skin lying to me,
your breath smells of your heartbreaks.
May be, I am a little twisted.
May be, we both are.
And that's how it is.
Morning winds.
Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 11:46 PM UTC
Because the definition of beauty isn't something as simple as your face
It's your very soul and mind
The way you look at things with such childlike curiosity
Your mind an ocean of untapped creativity
Your heart forever expanding, fueled by love and joy
And yet you still look in the mirror every single day, hating the person you've become
So you twist yourself into something ugly and fake
Don't tell me nothing's wrong when I can see you slowly dying inside and letting society chain you up and break you down Until all you can hear is; "Skinny, pretty, skinny, pretty, skinny, pretty,-"
You see the size of those jeans. Doubting, criticizing. Esteem thin as paper.
Posting a million pictures to get likes from complete strangers. Wanting, craving, needing people to tell you that you’re beautiful. Looking for anyone else’s opinion but your own.
Because you refuse to look into that ****** mirror and even associate beauty with that person staring back at you.
You judge your self-worth by weather or not a man finds you attractive.
Because that’s the only thing that matter right?
The definition of beauty that others set fourth for you.
A path that you don’t dare stray from.
It wasn't always like this
Being young, being free, meant being you
Laughing as hard as you wanted to
Smiling with your teeth
And wearing that cute dress you've always loved.
Getting older, getting bullied, getting shamed
Your laugh was obnoxious
Teeth were just a bit crooked
That dress, not as cute anymore
We shouldn't be wasting our lives trying to impress people
Don't look to others to tell you you're beautiful
Look inside of yourself
And if you don't see anything worth wild
You're not looking hard enough
You judge yourself by looks alone. Not factoring in who you are as an individual.
Whether you want to believe it or not you're beautiful, inside and out
I think it's about ****** time you stop listening to someone else's definition of beauty
And start looking for your own
Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 5:52 PM UTC
Just tonight, I won't do this for you
I may be nothing
But you can't hit nothing
And ***** you for thinking
I'm just enough to keep punching
I'm not much of a feminist
But I know what the difference is
Between love and violence
Your affection is not factoring in
The broken capillaries under my skin
Just tonight, I won't do this for you
I don't like being told what to do
Don't hold me down in your bedroom
It doesn't get me off
It only ****** me off
I can try to be your baby
You can try to save me
Gotta be a gentleman before I act like a lady
'Cause being a fine lover
Will not be your cover
Just tonight, I won't do this for you
I may not be worth enough
But I know what the difference is
Between violence and love
And I choose love
Aug 14, 2014
Aug 14, 2014 at 11:23 PM UTC
sit my head on my desk
while the teacher speaks
speaking about equations
and factoring
doodle on the wood
as i doze off
i'm wondering what i'll dream about
maybe about my future
maybe about my past
maybe about life
maybe about death
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 5:51 PM UTC
i'm graduating.
tomorrow
twenty hours
who let this happen
let me go back to crayons and finger weaving
or at least to factoring
i am no adult
the world is no more ready for me than i am for her.
May 20, 2015
May 20, 2015 at 12:05 AM UTC
All the fixation of a fictional mind
Seen as the scene playing on my pride
Makes of a fool, full on their stomach butterflies
Caught by love, in nets of its scent passing by
Buy into dreams; if to only afford imagination
Thinking of those you love and to lose concentration
Concerns of connecting factors, factoring in time
A factory of my heart, trying to work out how you'll be mine
Mind were you dig in my many deep thoughts
Thwarting me—I am a haunting manifesto of public courts
Courtship of an engaging conversation I'd always keep
Lost are words to a chest's heart; of love being the key
Keen on the grin, grinding a motive to work up a nerve
Nervous, shy man—can't speak up on public's street curve
And so bent out of shape, to express this final say
That despite of upbringing, we're up to falling in love some day
Nov 17, 2022
Nov 17, 2022 at 2:01 PM UTC
Pictures with strangers, perhaps with the fame
I haven’t been the same; unrecognizable even with
all these fans screaming my name
There’s always a price to entertain
I entered into a much louder desperation out of my
old depression's gate. But still lying about feeling great
Still I’m among all of the greats; those who've tasted fame
Anyways, one lick of it made me sick— thick legs always
any easy pick, but I never thought I’d call someone a *****
It’s quite rich, like I am; still with his poor tastes
All these make-ups on a face; making up for your pain
make up *** made up ideas from sexting texts
It felt a given, it would all take away my innocence
Feeling caught always in the thrill of them cheering my
brilliance; masking how it kills my feelings
To now feeling more worried about my appealing
“How’s my appearance,” factoring those experiences
would they still take me less than serious
Sort of shook hands with the president
Still preferred the picture; not being in a picture with him,
looking like I live on his immoral morals like a resident
Paranoid paradise: so relaxed on being anxious
The camera flashes always judge my actions,
calling me old fashioned. Not fashioned in those factions
Overthinking what to put under my caption
Capture a moment, but the camera lens is the only forever
lasting smile; soon I’ll be turning into Mr Passive
Still I had a passion, beforehand
Fame served me a lot to handle in a forehand, nobody
understands the grip of fame in Hollywood’s tight hand
Serving you free chicken
******* and thighs— Bets and thongs, a high supply
of different women. Swallowing their pride and your children
A million dollar tub, but still feeling filthy
“Oh really, you think you can have your soul back,”
the devil now outside, once only one within me
I made a deal to die at fifty
Knowing the fame won’t last me that long, feeding myself
to an empty richness. So **** greedy!
But hey, I guess I made it
What would have been the chances; still if only I had
waited a little longer for God’s right answers.
But hey mama, I’m famous...
Jan 23, 2023
Jan 23, 2023 at 3:15 PM UTC
Going in cashing the check, releasing my breath cause I know soon I'll be outta debt. So many regrets, with so many effected by my mindset. I'm sorry i'm not a pastor, i'm sorry that I am not a positive rapper, I'm sorry for not factoring in your feelings and pretending like it didn't even matter. I wish I could just pay my out, I wish I could just figure out what i'm all about. Am I for or against the people? Am I helping those in need or am I too busy to high up on my steeple? Am I truly a class act? Am I truly spitting the honest hitting facts? Questioning my self, hating myself, wanting a purpose and a happy future for myself. Has the dollar become my God? Has the scholar become a corrupt facade? So focused on making the dough, spending that dough, banging another *** smocking that blow, putting on a show, but haven't really grown. Wow! Realizing that the money doesn't really matter/ Realizing that I am not my own master. For when I'm slipping I find myself leaning up against Jacob's ladder. I don't deserve forgiveness, I deserve the hammer, I deserve to live in disaster. But by grace I have not been splattered, but by grace I have not been shattered! I don't know why? For I am not worth anything like an ant or a fly. At least that's what I convince myself of, for the voice in my head tells me that I'll never enter the pearly gates above. It tells me i should just give up, It tells me to just shut up. It reinforces the notions of people who hate me, It deflates me, It takes me down a valley of death and says that no one will help me. I know my future will be bright and that for right now I have to rome throughout the night. But it's alright as long as I don't lose sight. I know the world is crumbling apart for it is a result of our own misguided choices, I know it's because others have believed their own deceiving voices. It's not a matter of faith, or race, or gender but by our own selfish flesh. We are like an old virus filled computer, we just need to be fixed and modified and refreshed.
Jul 4, 2018
Jul 4, 2018 at 1:13 PM UTC