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Pauline Stevinia Sep 2018
Tell me how to love
When all i heard was scornful

Tell me how to love
When all i saw was dispute

Tell me how to love
When all i said was always flaw

Tell me how to love
When love is not exist
Or it’s me who never know its existence?

Then, tell me the formula of love
I will absorb it
As well as i could
Love never exist or it’s no longer exist?
Don't panic at all
Don't bother at all
What if the buildings are
Damaged dangerously?

What if all the walls
Are full of cracks
Things can be easily controlled
And you have enough money

So don't panic at all
Don't bother at all
Use your money with caution
Apply your mind, use your money

Get all the walls painted
With very nice painting
Paintings of the folks
Paintings of the modern era

Paintings of saints and heroes
Painting of beautiful landscapes
Raise slogans here and there
Unfurl flags and sing the anthem

What if the rivers are di*ty?
Only raise awareness campaigns
Put hoardings and banners everywhere
Do nothing else, but show everything

Just adopt these cheap tactics
You can save lot of wealth
And can spent on yourself
Or can buy more votes with it

Paint the bark of all the trees
Break all the records of shame
Create a new fake history
Make silly new records

What if there is poverty
Just make monuments for god
And ask people to pray there
God is there to listen the prayer

What if there is unemployment
Ask your businessmen friends
To start training centres and train the youth
And make money, money and money

Leave the trained youth as they were
Ask them to create employment for self
Call it self-employment, call it freedom
Ask them to rejoice this freedom

Open new schools and colleges
But don't appoint staff in teachers
Collect hefty amount of fees
Spent that fees on yourself

Also spent some to collect votes
Manage the peoples
Manage the machines
Manage history, manage geography

Manage the media, manage the news
Spread everywhere, fake news
If you do, what I have said
You will be the king again
Sure Shot and Short Formula to become King Again and Again
Fearless Jul 20
There is only ONE thing you need to do,
to get EVERYTHING you want in life.


Focus on Jesus.
Patricia Arches Sep 2013
Choices

This ever blotting simple thing that makes up things

as small as a mouse but also as deadly as sin itself

A simple formula of cause and effect

An effect

A result

A consequence

No pretences

Or fences that guard our decisions

Keeps it safe for being just a choice

For it is no longer just a choice

It is not that simple, see there is a formula to remember

An economic study to this choice where c=e

because

For every cause there is an effect

For every cause there is an effect

For every cause there is an effect

Let it dwell in your mind and affect you

Because that is where it all begins

Let us open up your mind and there we will find that

Alongside that implanted thought are a plethora

Of more thoughts that are placed beside your dreams

Nestled in between your hopes, skilfully intertwined with your visions

There they all lay

Our mind is our drive that takes us down

A road that is long and winding

A highway down to our hands

Which eventually become steered by, picked up with strings ever so delicately like a puppet

Held by that one thought

Your actions are birthed from your thoughts

We see these to be choices

To study these choices would be economics, to understand them would be sympathy

To take a leader who steals from his country

Or a mom who abandons her child to keep herself alive

And view this as sad, as a cry for help?

How and why?

Oh no! We do not stop at just those two ghastly choices

For this is a study of many

Choices

Of things that have happened to determine what will and to save us from what has been

Let us open up this book

And flip each page to see what decrees and laws

Revolutions and words put down on paper

Have anything to do with where we stand today

For the choices of the past still linger here

Mixed in with the choices of the present

Creating this air that we breathe in and out every single day

We would be infuriated with rage as we scan through the pages of this book of choices

A chapter of injustice

A paragraph of cruelty

A statement of selfishness

A line of adultery

But, wait! Oh, let us stop on this

One

story

For this I do not even understand

See I have studied choices, and put them into many formulas

To see the effects and the causes of each

but this story is different

For it is not just one chapter

One statement

One line

It is the whole story and each is intricately woven within it

In fact, the book is titled for this one story

And to begin it would be to start off with a choice

By a God

To send his son

To die for men

Men whose choices we see throughout the whole book

Men whose choices are vile and selfish and ruthless

Sinful men

*****

And yet a God so Holy and pure still sends down his son in His likeness for these grimy men??

See, if we picture it. It is a white cloth, pure and clean not just dipped but completely submerged in dirt

Now that is not a choice that I would make

But it was made

A man so untainted and holy

Came down

To die for the sinner

Who stole from the helpless woman in the ally

Who murdered an innocent child in the womb

Who told a tiny white lie to his mom and dad and gave himself away to drugs and peer pressure

Who lusted after the world and what seemed good but really was death covered in make up whispering

in the promises lie after lie

To die for the sinner who is you

You

Jesus chose to die for you

On that cross, with his hands bound by nails and his feet the same

And with every last breath, last drop of blood and whip of the chain

he thought of you

and that is a choice that no study, no analyzation could ever make sense of

but it was done

it is done

is what he said for you as his arms were spread out wide

and all your choices

he negated the effects, and ultimately the effect of death

and formulated a solution of eternal life instead

for this one choice

changed all the rest

Now, think, think it through

Every choice you make

and every choice that was made is made brand new, infused with grace

Remember this for when there is a test the formula of cause and effect

Still stand true

but also remember Jesus who did what you had to do

for you may make many more flawed choices without a thought

Therefore go down on bended knees gaze at the cross

where stood the Father’s son

never a doubt that this choice for you was a wrong one

that any effect wouldn’t be worth it

you are worth any effect

you are an effect

of that one choice made on the hills of calvary

look up at the cross when your lewd effects force out the mistakes of your personal choices

then resurface that one choice made 2000 years before

bring it up amongst all the confusion and chaos

study it’s economic worth

hold it dear

smile at it even for

that senseless,

unexplainable,

brilliant,

grand,

intricate,

lovel­y,

merciful,

gracious,

holy,

divine,

choice

is all for you
Nat Lipstadt Aug 2017
all poets are human, therefore, all humans are  
poems*

<•>

"In logic, a tautology (from the Greek word ταυτολογία) is a formula that is true in every possible interpretation."

<•>
hardly a tightly taut tautology,
yet true this, in every possible instance

all humans, poems,

as if their portrait painted

from words dipped in a vocabulary palette

which is why,

you my million muses,

are so oft the themes of *who
I write

and when foolish think there is no
inspiration in the air,
your names
each and every,
a title awaiting
finishing
a gift for Jamadhi Verse

Friday, August 25, 2017 6:10 PM,
S. I.
Stephen E Yocum Oct 2013
“Who Am I?”

I am, who I am,
Whoever that is,
Whoever I was,
Whoever I become.

Others try to tell me
Who I am or should be,
I try not to listen to them,

Because in truth,
As to who I really am,
I don’t actually know,
At least for now I’m not,
One hundred percent sure.

Is there a Committie somewhere,
That directs such things?
Purveyors of personalities,
Dispensers’ of intelligence,
Measurers’ of ambition and success?
How to look, how to dress?
What is too fat,
What's too thin?

Perhaps some kind of scale,
To measure up,
Or down too?

Maybe there’s some magic formula,
When Mixed and taken,
Makes us who we “should” be?
But then, according to WHO?

As for all those other people,
Well meaning or not,
How can they possibly know more
About me, than I do?

I am a Work in progress,
Until I fail miserably,
Or until I’m dead,
Please have the decency,
To allow me, to be me,
And the time to find out.
'Cause frankly, all your
Premature pronouncements
Regarding me and who I am,
Is some really boring ****!
This is for Alexandrina, Jamie, Michael and all those
many fine young souls out there, working through
the mystery of growing up and finding themselves.
his fingers traced every angle of her body
like a mathmatician conjecturing a new formula
slowly yet profoundly
Andrew Jun 2017
I need to change the circles I'm in
Because I fell into the trapezoid
Of trying to fit a square peg in a round hole
Making people believe I was a square
When I was really a rectangle
You just had to look at me from the right angles

The shape of things now
Is me looking at you from the wrong angles
You're pretty hot
90°
When you turn away from me your hotness doubles
180°
I think my Pompeii worm could survive the temperatures
But if you were to turn back around
No creature could survive
360°

The paradox of the parabola in my pants
Will never be solved
It's not your math problem
We're just two points on this rotating sphere
Where time is a straight line
And our's is a segment

I wish I understood the formula
So I could predict the outcome
But there are too many variables
Leaving my head spinning in circles
And myself running in circles
Meant to be avoided
Because within those circles are triangular trials
Where two points create a perfect line
And a third point ruins that

As points are added to the population
Lines only get larger
Like the welfare line
Mammoth shapes grow wider and more complex
Like the Pentagon
Lines become more easily crossed
Angles more easily tangled
And my freezing point becomes my boiling point
While I wish for a world more two-dimensional
Because once I consider depth
I realize I could never measure up to my ruler
Marci Mareburger Feb 2015
I must be floating somewhere in the fourth dimension.
I feel like I’m a formula in quantum mechanics:
Complex and misunderstood…
But if you know my concept well enough
I can be broken down into numbers and logarithms
That even a layman could understand
With a basic knowledge of math and science
Before he drops out of the university,
Because who has the patience
To simplify me?
You're the scientist and mathematician
Who disregarded imaginary numbers
Due to theoretical imperfections
Even if it was your thesis.
You said string theory and all I heard was hypothetical noose.
Marshal Gebbie Aug 2018
Calamitous collapse of structure forged
With steel and concrete built for time,
Since Roman times a formula endured
With engineers additional design.
Why, then, did this structure fail,
Did mortar crack, did reinforcing strong,
Shear and plummet in an instants time
To crush and doom this bridges song.

In teeming rain a  silence hung
Where watchers gaped in stunned awe,
A magnitude of devastation lay
Pulverized in valley floor.
Astonishing this expanse of space
Where seconds past, huge edifice,
Imbued with its’ charge of lives
Unknowingly to meet abyss.

Innocence has lost its’ life
Blame resounds around the room
Someone shall pay the price
For negligence in causing doom.
Truth be told it’s shared by all
For Italy has lagged behind
Cost cutting infrastructures’ purse
Because of economic bind.

Time to reassess the plan
Time to weep and bury dead,
Clear the rubble from the land
Rebuild well then forge ahead.
Blame not the engineer
Nor the man who drew design,
Blame not the hardhat
Who poured the concrete in the line.

Reassign the budget spend
To infrastructure, pay its share
For sentiment is running hot
To axe the fool who pares the fare.

M.
Storeman
Civil Infrastructure
Hamilton, NEW ZEALAND
This calamity is already impacting on construction projects and future design , cost and planning, worldwide. Risk is, very much, a major perilous factor in bidding and negotiation in the relationship between an infrastructure provider and buyer.
els Jan 2018
I try to formulate my vocabulary,
in order for you to see the picture
of my message.

I throw myself each day,
to make you realize how much
I am suffering, and how much
you are suffering, too.

I hurt my own chest,
lock the pain deep within
my cells, so you won't see
these damp lashes when I'm
alone... but with hopes you'll
get an idea of how destructive
this love can be.

I waste away breaths to let
you discover how the wrong timing
can rust everything.

I dehydrate myself to show you
how a wrong formula can make
a radioactive explosion.

I try and I try.
Eventhough all is against my will.
I try and I try.

You just don't understand.
PARALLEL LINES DO NOT MEET.

-

-

Happiness...is not...a mathematical formula
that one can apply to supply an answer.

Rather...it is the sum of who you are
multiplied by who you are willing to be.

Happiness...like Mathematics
is something I was never ever any good at

& always made me weep
with equal parts

Desperation
Exasperation

&
Frustration.

Or, D.E.F.
for short.

For example:

If it took a man a lifetime
to dig himself into a hole

how long would it take
for half the man he used to be

to dig himself out again?

Questions – such as this
only caused me grief...

In Mathematics(like Latin)            
which I could also never know

I would cheat & repeat
words full of sound & no sense.

E.g.

The cares of the hippopotamus
are equal to some of the cares
that the other two hippopotami confide.

Happiness...like Mathematics
was all Greek to me.

I don’t know...that’s all I know.

But I do know that...
Happiness happens

every now...& then...

the only trick
is to be aware that it’s there & that...

Parallel Lines do meet...

...at Infinity

Q.E.D
Shofi Ahmed Jun 13
Move big start small the golden ratio
is always 1.618 something is never 2.
But gives the formula to design flawlessly on the go
from micro to macro level all the way to the true north!
Adron E Dozat Feb 2015
Some men have a recipe-
It is like a combination
That makes up their ideal
Which says she is gorgeous.
Such things they may itemize;
A face that is angelic,
With eyes that are lustrous          
Full lips of pure seduction,
A voice that is musical,
And hair that falls pleasingly,
It is a child's attitude
That says things make somebody.
I need no such formula
For in you I discovered
A heart that was beautiful;
Which the made me realize
That your face is radiant,
Your eyes are dark mystery,
Your voice is a symphony,
Your hair flows down gracefully,
And your lips are perfection.
I found your heart wonderful
And then I found everything
That a man could desire.
To order my book of inspirational poems at Amazon, https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07HMFML2D
Willoughby Aug 2018
I'd love to peer into that brain of yours and see the actual mechanics of your thinking.  Where those creative juices of yours throb and pulse. Ya, I'll drink to that.

   Maybe use one of them scopes to explore the left ventricle of your heart (you know, that chamber of the Heart that pumps blood through the aorta).  Figure out that sensitive heart of yours.

   Explore the rubber consistency of the lining of your lungs. With that heaving chest and ******* of yours, those lungs must be so healthy in their pinkish hue.   Just some barstool thoughts while waiting for closing time.

   Staring into this shot glass in front of me, my memory harkens back to the time you cut your arm and I ****** the blood from it, so salty and all.  I want to bottle you up in a liquid formula or capsulize your essence in a unique pill form where I can digest and absorb you and grow new cells from the energy I receive from the calories of your precious body.

   Maybe with the power of your bodies flesh I can grow a sixth toe, develop a third eye, build an *****.  I love you so much I could eat you up!

   Barkeep says this is last call so I better drink up and be on my way.  I wonder what your left ventricle really looks like under close inspection?  
   Just wondering, do you have any x-rays of your body I could have?
                                             See ya,   Creepy  Ray Ray
Willoughby  NEWSLETTER:   Coming soon, more Willoughby life rules and yes, this isn't the last you've heard from Creepy Ray Ray.  Also, middle of next month in honor of National Sheep Day the long awaited posting of "My Wife is a Sheep". Sweet anticipation!  And finally if your a little creeped out or shocked ---- Exactly!
Hygor Marques Jul 2017
News, news, urgent news!
An ultraterrestrial was found
at 5:45 on the New York subway.
The ultraterrestrial has schedule.
The ultraterrestrial has salary.
The ultraterrestrial does not have a hat.

News, news, urgent news!
Contact the WORLD, spread the word:
The ultraterrestrial is pale!
Science can not clarify
If the ultraterrestrial thinks or survive
The ultraterrestrial does not talk to the press

News, news, urgent news!
Protect the USA!
The ultraterrestrial is insane.
He does not care about Russia, Prussia
Lucia, or Lucian.
The ultraterrestrial has no ***
The ultraterrestrial is a disconnect.

News, news, urgent news!
We have the first interview:
Prefer to be in formula
than informed.
The ultraterrestrial knows History
(But can not tell stories)
The ultraterrestrial is weird.
He does not crave the car of the year.

News, news, urgent news!
Close NASA, forget Al-Qaeda:
The discovery of the century is here.
The ultraterrestrial is a Messiah.
The ultraterrestrial is a trend.
The ultraterrestrial is the greatest.

News, news, urgent news!
Beware!
If the ultraterrestrial is now a contagion
so the universe has become wasteful.
(Hygor L.B. Marques)
I'm a brazilian, so this piece was translated from Portuguese(BR).
*The 'ultraterrestrial' term is being used as a joke to (extreme/very) terrestrial.
Kris Apr 2015
Tip one: everyone has problems, exploit that.
The main ones are money, love, death, and existential crisis;
it’s better to write about the former two because the other two…
well, they are the things that people are trying to forget
when they read about the trivial parts of their lives
in the cleverly-phrased lines of your horoscope.
So cater to their needs and help them escape for a moment
through the frivolous indulgence of your vague predictions.

Which leads to tip two: keep it vague.
No one cares about the details. Horoscopes are like Mad Libs:
you give them the starters and they fill in the blanks
with their personal lives and experiences.
Horoscopes should be empty boxes that people pack
with the cluttered thoughts in their head to make room,
to lighten the load up there in their minds.

And this treads on the territory of tip three: white lies.
Clear out all the anxieties, the mind needs the extra space
because that thing called hope? Yeah, it’s kind of claustrophobic.
It needs all that room to be comfortable. If the mind is filled with anxieties
that hang around like that roommate’s friend who’s always over
hope will check out. For good. So by the last line you better have them
picturing their perfect life that will unexpectedly fall into their laps
once they are, “receptive to the idea of changes to come.”

Your horoscope should be a cathartic, spiritual (albeit cheap) experience;
people want to hear that the stars are conspiring to bring them good luck
and the perfect lover. A piece of sincerity among lies and half-humor.
This is the formula for the perfect horoscope.
Mathew P Nangolo Nov 2018
Manipulation
**** word
you sound weird
i wish i understand
your existence

Manipulation
who are you
where you originated
why you even exist

Obviously,you came
to confuse
and make me lie

You came to steal peace
you came to shake
relationships and cause
my people undue

Huh, mathematically
you helps me
to find the
subject of the
formula though
mathematically speaking
Jack Jenkins Oct 2018
Why
I'm tired of telling the millionth person
the same story of how love died
& they pull out a pad and pen
trying to fill in the blank,
cracking the secret formula,
of why it happened:

"You two weren't compatible"

"You need to love yourself more"

"She wasn't the right one for you"

"You weren't the right one for her"

"It was just young love"

"These things just happen"

Everyone has their own perspective on it
& nobody really
listens.

Because I don't need to know why;
if I did I would be stuck in the past,
and trying to fix it.
I'm not.

I just need to know how to keep living
when every time my heart beats
it hurts because the one who I gave it to
is missing from my life

How do I not lose my breath when I think of her?
How do I quit having dreams about her?
How can I move on from losing my best friend because I lost control of my mental health and shut her out?
How does neglect become undone when you are removed from their life?

She was 7 years of happiness in my life; not a long time to many, but remember I am only 23 years old.
I grew into a man with her stitched to my heart.

So please don't try and tell me why it fell apart.
Please just tell her I love her if you see her.
//On her and friends//
I know people want to help, and I'm very grateful for the care so many have for me. It's just insensitive to try and fix someone who is just trying to learn how to move on.
If you really want to know the "why" you'd have to live through it because it is far more complex and nuanced than just filling in a blank like a crossword puzzle.
Mountains are subdued in triumph
Valleys are crossed in glory
Battles are tamed to surrender
Whirlwinds are made still in valor
Faith conquers fear in victory
With discipline, the ace-axe!

I am discipline
The soul of the winning army
The refining army of the inimitable
Procuring success to the weak
Making small numbers formidable
Turning talent to power
Turning disability to ability
I am discipline, the almighty formula!
JS CARIE Feb 21
My recollect is of the each,
The Two
And within the Two
One is the One

Holding and using our lead and ink utensils
as if they are weapons for winning at Love,
and reasoning for our written duel

Expressing desires the voice would customarily sever into dissection

Permitting authority to the crafted scripts *******  
and may it’s barrier lay
over the possibility of a broken and scattered tongues communicate
Giving our internal intent its day
the way hoped it would speak

Expecting the requited, the return
was a pesticide over wide horizon,
Where the organic surprise of rainfall kept us neutral and thankful

And apart,
our minds maintained with
and of our other

With no need for philosophical proofs only the inner felt proof

Of forwarding shards of sentiment
with compiled assurance
and a dispatched formula
the best way we could phrase

Alongside images
that came in and held tight
in sectors tucked away and reserved from the cherished
to this day are still to be amazed

Spontaneous placement of universally synchronized jewels and stones
Of not have to have
[Only the simplified, pushed down and planted fact]
Of want her to have
So when away,
You feel a personal, singled-out
appraisal of praise
For anyone who you think of when they’re away
indigochild Feb 19
... Thumpthump, thumpthump. 1st thump, beats so hard it rips out of your chest cavity. Into the hand of your partner. For a second your life is in the palm of their hands. You can’t live without them. Breathe without them. 2nd thump, beats so hard it pushes back into your chest cavity. Given back from the hand of your partner. For a second your life is back, heart where it belongs. But this time it doesn’t fit quite right. You need stitches. You receive scars. You can feel your blood pumping, again. But it’s never quite the same. Your partner didn’t borrow your heart. There was no “return with care” label. No library books with due dates and late fees. Only torn pages from too many hands. The crease, broken. Ink smudged from spilled coffee during too many shared mornings. The pages still in tact, but they don’t fit quite right. How do I know this time it will be different?
But here I am.
I lay before you the formula of an overbeating heart. Thumpthump, thumpthump. 1st thump, beats so hard. when I see you. when i feel you. when i think of you. I rip it out of my chest cavity. I beg for you to take it. Scraps and bruises. It hurts to rip it out. Hurts worst for it to stay in. Give me gluten free pancakes. Avocado with lime. Morning, afternoon, night ***. Meetings with toilet seats after too much to drink. Crying over life. Me crying over you crying over life. Late night pleads when the bed feels empty. Spotify playlists, the millennial version of mixed tapes. 2nd thump, beats so hard you can’t hold it anymore. Slips out of your hand. Bright red blood smears. I try and scrape it off the floor. Too much. Too late. Try and fill my empty cavity with. Kisses. Sorrys.
But here I am.
This is the part when medusa turned me to stone. This is the part when jack the ripper follows me home. This is the part when the mirror on the wall says the prettiest of all is you. I am the queen who stalks you through the glass. I am the queen who gets jealous when you hold hands with another girl. I am the queen who hid from the king to see the princess. I am the queen you run away from. I am the queen who wears a disguise just so you notice me. I am the queen who gave you the poisonous apple. I was the one who was suppose to kiss you. I am the queen who lead you to your one true love.
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