"formulae" poems
You can literally manufacture it in a chemistry lab;
There are formulae and measurements of hormones that add up
To this supposedly tangible entity
A nicely brewed test tube
Of elaborately named chemicals
The very thing that makes you tremble in your skin,
That has caused wars and set ships assail
Confined to a liquid in a glass container
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 10:15 AM UTC
The formulae for well being
is found in those memories,
a preparedness to unearth
yesterday's yearbooks;
which releases those far flung controls of analogue,
resurrecting belt driven
record players
to play Starbuck and Brothers Johnson
reviving '76,
mentally speeding on pristine motorways,
buzzing by on a chevy corvette
humming to the suggestive "Afternoon Delight"
vying with your Radio's antenna.
Oct 15, 2013
Oct 15, 2013 at 7:05 AM UTC
Just an equation,
A Simple theorem.
A little misbehaviour,
Outside the decorum.
.
I add and provide,
Hoping we never divide.
At the geometry, I stare
Just a mindfuck of a square.
.
A slight cross multiplication,
To bond upon this attraction.
To help develop the postulates.
Of your mere subtraction.
.
I integrate & derive,
It's the formulae I'm deprived
Of. The questions always lead to me and you.
I always end up in my four sided cube.
- Aks, in math classes.
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 4:38 AM UTC
Let us invoke a healthy heart-breaking
Towards the horrible world:
Let us say 0 poor people
How can they help being so absurd,
Misguided, abused, misled?
With unsifted saving graces jostling about
On a mucky medley of needs,
Like love-lit ****
Year after cyclic year
The unidentifiable flying god is missed.
Emotions sit in their heads disguised as judges,
Or are twisted to look like mathematical formulae,
And only a scarce god-given scientist notices
His trembling lip melting the heart of the rat.
Whoever gave us the idea somebody loved us?
Far in our wounded depths faint memories cry,
A vision flickers below subliminally
But immanence looms unbearably: TURN IT OFF! they hiss.
2.9k
The
***tilt of my seesaw
is decidedly downward facing dog:
and there’s no rush to judgment,
for the powers that be,
be delighted by slow-walking,
making the waiting
max-tortuous,
but am of an age when everything,
even the long buried sins and unkept promises, poke and **** nonstop,
and the formulae once relied upon
to ease incipient self-deception,
to temporize and salve the consternations
of unkempt aggravated remorse failures,
as aged misdemeanors be matured felonies,
I blurt and declare guilt to all, alas,
and yet,
always an
and yet
in the ultimate crushing of
tardiness, knotted by an indignity of silence,
no one is desirous
of taking my***
confession
5:10pm
Thu Jan 28
2023
Jan 30, 2023
Jan 30, 2023 at 3:41 PM UTC
Come the auroras and infinite landscapes –
Tangents wrought outright constants,
Parallels perched perpendicular outrights,
So to call your ellipse,
When the orbit’s outstretched
Landing meetings where we’d at least
Learn to alter tomorrow.
It’s stellar silly, and paths primordial,
Leaving my layovers for the trials
And abandoned, the moon’s to forever follow you;
So to composed and formulae proofed
Come the time you mother said,
"He’s just a coma
And dust best left forgotten."
Quit draggin’ me to space baby.
Nov 6, 2016
Nov 6, 2016 at 9:26 PM UTC
a potion maker,
seeking the formulae
of the combination
of the
known and the none,
the wizard’s ideation
of the secret spark of
creation, the starter fire
of human destiny & desire
who needs gold,
when,
the power of birth,
the mystery of girth
the fluids of oils,
plus 57 varieties
of human blood,
in a precise tabulation
the sap of human cell
constructs, heated
gentle on a low flame,
do not forget, or regret
if the salt & pepper
of discernment is
overlooked, the sighs,
*the quiet of boredom,
the leveling moments
when creation is initiated*
and then
my heart can be
known to some,
even careful read
between the lines ~
the lines on my eyes,
the cross hatch upon
a forehead, the crinkles
where time and laughter
intersected and injected
*the whites spaces between
these words*
enough enigma…
never!
Jan 26, 2025
Jan 26, 2025 at 10:12 AM UTC
I should have gone to school
not fooled around.
I should have settled down to algebra
Nah..
I enjoyed my lazy days on river banks
I enjoyed the walks through ranks of butterflies
and fish that looked through fishy eyes at me
where I could be the master of my destiny.
Oh foolish child
what wild ride did I take?
I broke the hearts of tutors preferring roller skates and scooters to the formality of education.
No dried out formulae or calculations could tempt this boy
to attend a place where joy sat silently on the back row.
What I didn't know I found out the hard way
the way I knew
too late now to do
anything about it.
I should have learnt to sit and learn
not learnt to swim
or burnt my bridges.
Furrowed ridges on my brow
Now I know why education
should have been
seen as number one.
But life goes on
another lesson learnt
another bridge that wasn't burnt
but crumbled
under years of weight.
I chalk upon the blackboard slate
'could have done better'
May 10, 2013
May 10, 2013 at 2:02 AM UTC
you cannot wish love into existence (or how it came to be)
came and was asked,
make us a star.
smiled and whispered to the
mother night belly black and
and their star,
unequivocal was given
came and was asked, for a cooling fooling breeze.
smiled and whispered to the clouds,
rush past us faster and shed us thy ease
and so refreshed,
gave up hands high grace salutes
came and was asked, why be alone,
whisper for her
to love you
smiled and whispered
this I cannot
nor would I want to do
came and was asked,
why be alone,
whisper for you
to love her
smiled and whispered
this I cannot
nor would I want to do
whisper what you will
but love
is a wondering and a wonderment eternal
a perpetuity of never knowing,
perfect surety is not love
it is a why without an answer,
a question's question imperfection
why you love today,
maybe a continent different
why you used to, or first to,
and tomorrow's raison d'être
as yet undreamt, unrealized,
you can whisper many things into being,
but beings in love are motions special,
and entitled to a category special
admixture of reason and lust,
hunger and thirst,
needy to be needed
needy to be giving,
the balance whacked,
constant change its formulae
called vagaries, chemical imbalances,
e-motions
should I whisper,
call out for love,
making it so,
there would be no why,
without the why,
what worth this be
so when you do whisper
I love you,
admit it is a question
and an answer simultaneous,
it is a whisper of certain uncertainty
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 11:11 PM UTC
if that was love, then I no longer wish to have a heart
I would pull apart my limbs, in attempts to make you happy
and still my heart would remain, despite desperate endeavours
on my part of course, to break it apart, crack it open and set it free
I never knew of the touch of your hands, or your lips against mine
and the feel of my head in the crook of your neck at 3 am
when I felt like I had absolutely nothing left
nothing but you, or so I thought
I didn't know you inside or out, and I no longer wish to now,
I can add you to the infinite list of things that never made sense to me
amongst algebra, and formulae and chemical bonds
comes your name, written in red, then crossed out 10 times
in an attempt to forget
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 12:35 PM UTC
Every waking moment in store
Crowded with paper galore
Deer slumber while basking in the moonlight
But the desk lamp still shines terribly bright
Newton's laws and the ancient periodic table
When will these tests become a fable?
Ink spilled in elaborate formulae
The hermit emanated a drained sigh
Doomsday has arrived
When will these deathly trials subside?
Questions fired by gunshot
Each need to be defeated right on the dot
Anxiety fills the panic meter up to the brim
These tests decide the strength of the plant stem
Weak progress propels the plant to fall
While strong achievement props the small flora to stand tall
Arbitration day has finally come to an end
The days that proceed are emancipated from the time bend
All stress vanishes from sight
The belligerent has won the grand fight
Apr 29, 2013
Apr 29, 2013 at 6:16 PM UTC
STOP
We don’t need Science. STOP.
We already have all the answers.
STOP.
Stop all inquiry and research.
ALL ANSWERS IN OUR HOLY BOOK. STOP.
We have all the visions and the dreams and the formulae
in our Holy Books and in our religions
and in all that is Revealed by the ALMIGHTY.
Stop! Stop Science! STOP! God has spoken to us
And the BOOK says BOO! to Science.
STOP! STOP!
God has appointed the Few to teach the Many.
Listen to the BLESSED and the HOLY ONES.
STOP.
IGNORE SCIENCE. Be ignorant of Science.
Silence SCIENCE. STOP.
STOP SCIENCE. We know all there is to be known
in our Holy Book. STOP. We will explain it to you.
Trust God and listen to those appointed by GOD.
Everything you’ve always wanted
to know is all in here. STOP. In the Holy Book.
Our Places of Worship have got it all. STOP SCIENCE.
STOP INQUIRY. Inquiry is sin. STOP. Science is against the Holy.
STOP. God does not like Science. God gave us a mind to obey
and to think only of God.
Think mindlessly about GOD. In Mindlessness is Salvation.
LET your MIND be ALWAYS of GOD. Think NOTHING ELSE.
STOP. STOP Science.
Science is endless questions. STOP. Religion is Pure.
Religion is the word of God. Science is the ACT of the Devil. STOP.
Listen to the priest and those who are holy. STOP. Obey Religion.
STOP. Obey God. STOP SCIENCE. Obey God. STOP.
Stop inquiring and research.
ALL ANSWERS IN OUR HOLY BOOK. STOP.
LISTEN. DO NOT INQUIRE. OBEY. STOP SCIENCE. STOP.
Jul 5, 2013
Jul 5, 2013 at 8:02 AM UTC
for Beau
this mixte bag of nutty facts,
compote of this's and that's,
fragrant but yucky tasting potpourri,
sordid assortment of
seemingly unseemly
random collection of
facts, whoppers,
recipes and formulae, and his 'n her
stories (my fav!)
useless motorized drivel,
running around my head
that you have with me creme-filled,
data conglomerated,
transformed by mongol hordes of grey cells
urged on, nay transformed,
by **** and beer into
a magnificent miscellaneous mile of jumble,
virtuous and verifiable grab bag of
ever so humble,
tuneful melodies of a medley of
snatches and patches
of Jagger and Liszt,
a verifiable pastiche of
vital and downright dumb
Factors and Factoids,
I thank you suchly muchly
musta taken years, maybe even
decades to collect and codify,
this assemblage of verifiable factoids,
after-all, took you twelve to
feed me in eye dropper ingestible quantities!
though with Wiki this and Wiki that,
I coulda save us all some time,
and since it is all on the Internet,
and any way 99% I forgot
like a cell phone number
no matter, I can reads and counts
and writes term papers downloaded,
but caught my eye you wrote
of a mutton stew denominated as
hotchpotch,
but we variant truants,
ici, aux Etats-Unis, on dit
and spell our salmagundi as
hodgepodge
but in summary summation,
thanks for teaching me creative thinking,
for without this skill,
I would but be,
a tool
of Wikipedia
and not its creator
P.S. It's gadzooks,
not gad zooks,
according to Wikitionary,
even them Oxford fellas agree,
tee hee,
you could look it up
on the internetsky,
Teach....
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 5:50 AM UTC
I'm going to try and make this poem rhyme,
While my backyard smells like fresh thyme.
I don't know what I feel,
But it makes me a little ill.
Why does the feeling of not knowing,
Make my emotions feel like overflowing.
It makes me feel like a river waiting to burst,
Ready to quench everyone's thirst.
Maybe if I tell myself I'll be okay,
I'll finally crack the formulae.
The ultimate formulae of happiness,
To overcome my snappiness.
Maybe one day I'll get there,
But till then, these words are all I have to share.
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 11:20 AM UTC
Two dark sides converse in glinted eye,
we judge between few subtle signs,
vibrations bend which speed up time,
what sad masks we wear, when occupied.
Allow yourself some pause for thought,
searching around inside of you,
whichever form this may flow through,
to find that place of peace and solitude.
Importance of imprinting reflective memories,
we hold onto questions of our visions set,
remembering of what was and came to be,
a fabricated formulae.
The varied receptive connections of others,
helps us engage respond and occupy,
to release the grey that builds inside,
heaviness escapes through focused sighs.
Apr 20, 2021
Apr 20, 2021 at 11:12 AM UTC
Doctored in genetic cauldrons
for wine seeking solace in perfection
engineered tactfully within testtubes
of formulae
extracted and compressed
its testicles removed
the grape rendered impotent.
how strange
that we surgically implant
and speak to inner workings
to consumerise
everything we need.
chickens battery farmed
cows turf grassed
pigs in poultry cages
men in monkey suits
playing god in the paddocks of doom.
maybe we should
just leave things alone
and nature will be fine.
Author Notes
Optional
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, a month ago
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 3:25 PM UTC
Always In Preparation #2
(a rather long simplification)
Always in preparation for an interview:
What will I answer? Never know.
- What do I like? do things I do, the way I do?
- Write poetry, play jazz, do yoga?
Body/mind my mental window in my mental interview:
And I must justify it all.
Some germ, some theme begins the whole:
The technical; word hurdles
When I write or sing;
All challenging,
Performing, writing or just doing.
T’ween two covers it’s official;
Everything grist-for-the-mill,
I’ll likely publish ‘til I’m still.
No special motive winks or flirts,
No motive hides behind my skirts -
My ears hear musically,
It all comes naturally, substance counting most;
Not tricks, not formulae, cliché -
If there’s a Corwin idiom
It’s in the DNA.
I work out tunes, -out poetry, -out ******
The mind works out spontaneously,
I (wherever I is to be found) give in, give form,
Substance from-and-in the frame.
In short, I paint myself into a box
And creep around
Until some [final] satisfaction binds.
A futile paradox:
To clarify and satisfy
The interview,
But there am I,
Always in preparation.
Always In Preparation 7.6.2014
Pure Nakedness; The Processes: Creative, Thinking,Meditative II; revised 11.21.2017
Arlene Corwin
Nov 21, 2017
Nov 21, 2017 at 5:55 AM UTC
I live i die, im all too human
very human, so human ive lost track
of what time it is
The duration of events between my life and death
is it time? is it life? I'm living and clock's ticking
all the same, so humanly same
time has value, like its money
time is valuable, some formulae told me
time is money, and we run according to it
so human, so humanly insane.
May 25, 2014
May 25, 2014 at 3:18 AM UTC
I am amongst a frantic
silent
period
Everyone is busy
with numbers in their head
a pen gripped firm, where all the magic begins
Scribbling down notes
a tangled mess of formulae
buttons of assistance…the
calculator, what would they do
without them?
Nor do I question the purpose of time
the economy
it all makes us whine
Ah, forget it
I am amongst a frantic
silent period
this poem to pass time
this “poet”,
failing another grind
Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 6:06 AM UTC
Umbridging the gap
and the platitudes of word-whores
as well as the Encyclopedic pimps of posh
spiced with lingual ice...
Because I am a simpleton
with a thirst for the Beloved
and its discriptive meanings, I am
scholarly lacking
Juxtaposing my script to refer
to references Grecian or urn,
enflagrante artisan
spurts with superlatives and
personified iambics of rhetorical lines
limned with deep shagrin
because my verbs are linear
even when my chicken scratch
struck midnight a match stick
flame to illuminate
my poetic fluffer's formulae
schisms from my own mind's magician hat...
Not to be-little or slight those hands walking
that yellow the pages
with slothly seeking rote
for meandering bibliographies
a librarian's histology fingers for Captain
Cook / exploration's verbose
exploitation if at most
connecting dots treasured maps
of purposeful / placement for imagery
in the textiles
of poetry's destined and enlightening
cloak & dagger or a Throw
or a goose-down warmth
of Love / to blanket the night away
just as would a mother's / tucking in
from the day's overwhelming
lack of reverances, referenced
oh how to closely listen / or live
beyond the history
to be in the moment
comparing and sharing
our joys and the power of now . . . keep it simple
because I am a simpleton with a thirst
with a thirst for the Beloved,
the Truth of a promise / endowed Tao of Us. . .
Dec 25, 2015
Dec 25, 2015 at 1:22 PM UTC
The click clack of my keyboard
competes
with that metronome called
a clock
Time has become surprisingly
fluid
and yet it remains stubbornly
stationary
Seconds, minutes, hours
and days
meekly shudder and humbly bow
sacrificed
I try to turn my life into
an excel sheet
with predetermined fixed
formulae
All plugged in the right
little boxes
with all the right
numbers.
-Vijayalakshmi Harish
14/11/08
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
Aug 13, 2012
Aug 13, 2012 at 12:43 AM UTC
In epiphany
To stark silence
We are a base
The two elementals
Mixed shaken not stirred
Compounded a molecule
A ying and yang
Bonded in a fashion
Yet not definable
Examined
Observed
Scrutinized
Lectured
Quized
We're friends
There is no formulae
The antithesis
Of our past
Feb 26, 2013
Feb 26, 2013 at 9:13 AM UTC
A Spate of Inspiration for Global Turn-up [SIGT]
Spate:
Inspiration:
Global:
Turn-up:
I have spent time tracking my routes that is where actually l came from forgetting where I am going because it’s already brighter than I thought. I have seen many ups and downs but the thing that surprises me is that every time I was down the next thing was to rise. There is this time I think of running away from the point that somebody inspired me to move and rise but I get back when I see no option but that.
Inspiration has a long history originally said to come from divine or supernatural forces. It is a blessing or a gift that cannot be bought from the physical markets but are found by grace in the gardens of wisdom not willed. It’s something that we cannot live without and without it, will be living but in void.
Inspiration gives us hope. It allows us to transcend our ordinary experiences and limitations and is a strong driver of the attainment of our goals, productivity, creativity and well being. It helps a person to transform from experiencing a culture of apathy to experiencing a world of possibility.
The storms are darker but they use lightning as the lamp to see where rain can be dropped in the midst of the night. No meter how black the cloud is the light will always shine in the inner core of the darkness. Learning from nature we are inspired to know that the darker the clouds the faster the lighting will be meaning that in every harsh situation the chip of hope will flash from the gardens of wisdom in the innermost being.
I usually say to myself if we are guided by the theories and formulas of some other wise and principled people why can’t we create a wisdom machine in our souls to give us the same formulae or otherwise but recreating the way we think and the way we act to guide us. Why can’t we just make our own beings, creating a trail for our tail, as we sail in the sea of darkness? Bringing life to the dead’s darkest nights and make them see the light in their day dream so that maybe they can wake up and start to live a real life of hope.
In the midst of darkness take any opportunity to make your light shine brighter
Oct 18, 2016
Oct 18, 2016 at 4:57 AM UTC
When you become a father this is what happens in maths; she multiplies your ***** differentiates the situation, substitutes your friends, makes herself the subject of the formulae, simplifies your finance and factorizes your priorities.
Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 12:41 PM UTC