"groupings" poems
Nothing is absolute
And there are countless variables thrown into the mix
Do your best to simplify
Search for those high exponents to bring your base to a better place
No need for negativity
Times can get adverse and even inverse
But you must remain in power as an integer
There is no substitute for you
Distribute some of your positiveness
To all groupings of coefficients
And their properties
You have yet to reach your prime, but you will
Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 12:16 PM UTC
To be blessed ,
favored and protected by the environment,
selected and isolated from your social groupings,
To be blessed is to synthesize what truly has meaning in life and self-meditate with the sake of life’s pace.
Before falling asleep, resting, force the mental to remain awake,
processing and breaking apart the information given today,
despite the fact that time wasn’t kind, brief or even prolonged; make it the moral commitment to self-reflect.
Make a correction if your answer is wrong; the fabrication of a scripture,
Make sure, for certain, that all the totaled scores calculate to a certain percentage,
Affirmed, scolded or ruled by another to convey your defined truth as inaccurate, almost there or rarely ample.
Time is allotted, effortless and to be taught a lesson is a blessing,
Space is limited, given and to be bestowed the gift of building is the set up version of a lesson, a shell of a blessing.
Sep 26, 2018
Sep 26, 2018 at 1:39 AM UTC
I hovered down my cursor
Towards the Facebook icon
My senses were in fervor
For one notification.
I clicked the drop down button
That was drenched in crimson red
My mind had an implosion
As I decoded what it said.
Someone sent a game request
To me when time was lush
My day embarks another quest
In the game of candy crush.
A ticket, life, or power-up
Could be the thing I need
To clear the way and reach the top
And in the ranks I'll lead.
A move that swaps a jelly bean
Perhaps could form an "L"
A wrapper bomb then could be seen
Explosion it would spell.
Maybe an orange lozenge
Could pile in lines of four
A striped bomb could come in revenge
And wipe out lanes for score.
A bunch of yellow lemon drops
I'll surely link to five
In time a color bomb would pop
And clear the candy hive.
Heaps of lollipop heads in blue
And purple cluster sweets
Could get swept out in a row or two
By coco wheels or jelly fish.
How lovely it would be to see
A medley of combination
Bombs and power-ups in spree
To a rainbow candy motion.
Two wrapper bombs would be enough
To blast two groupings clean
Two striped ones make a checker stuff
Where blocks have ever been.
A wrapper and a color bomb
Blast off a certain hue
A color bomb and a stripe in clump
Stripe out some colors too.
Perhaps of all the tricks I've seen
The one that serves me great
A duo of color bombs would mean
The end of all the slate.
The sun may rise, the moon may set
I'll be there to sit and play
A sweet treat is all I need to get
And I'll complete my day.
Jun 12, 2013
Jun 12, 2013 at 9:09 AM UTC
Some guy eats a ****** bat
do dah do dah
All I say is "fancy that"
all the do dah day
keep your distance, give me space
do dah do dah
remember do not touch your face
all the do dah day
wash your hands all night
wash your hands all day
wash your hands and wash them right
and you wil be ok.
keep your groupings under ten,
do dah do day
that goes for women and for men
all the do dah day
stay inside and don't go out
do dah do dah
the virus is all round about
all the do dah day
wash your hands all night
wash your hands all day
wash your hands and wash them right
and you wil be ok.
toilet paper's hard to find
do dah do dah
some folks have just lost their mind
all the do dah day
buying everything in sight
do dah do dah
i've got to say that isn't right
all the do dah day
wash your hands all night
wash your hands all day
twash your hands and wash them right
and you wil be ok.
if we all play by the rules
do dah do dah
and quit acting like ****** fools
all the do dah day
this will pass i promise you
do dah do dah
do what the doctors tell you to
all the do dah day
wash your hands all night
wash your hands all day
wash your hands and wash them right
and you wil be ok.
Mar 29, 2020
Mar 29, 2020 at 5:01 PM UTC
In the middle of folding laundry one afternoon
thinking this might not be a big deal
but then again it's not such a bad way to spend the day and
the back door opened and
my neighbor showed up in full paintball gun attire and
pointed his paintball gun at me and
yelled at me to get on the ground!
i smiled and
put down my child's underwear and
grabbed his Buzz Lightyear sound and
light activated laser gun that he had recently gotten for Christmas and
aimed it at him and
yelled NO! You get on the ground and
then 40 men rushed into my house and
at least 10 of them had rifles and
i was thrown down on the floor,
wood floor,
right cheek made direct impact and
**** that hurt and
i heard a shout of a voice ordering the 10 men with the 10 rifles pointed at my head
not to shoot and
that the shoot to **** order was off,
that it was a toy plastic gun,
he repeated,
it was a plastic children's toy and
in one fell swoop of motion my right shoulder was taken out of its socket and
**** that hurt and
twisted around behind my back in order to handcuff that hand to my other hand and
stand me up and
walk me out as I watched dozens and
dozens of what i could only presume to be storm troopers from the Star Wars movies wearing white protective gear covering their shoes bodies and
faces entirely
spilling into my house with the great invasion of an ant colony and
several groupings of men in black pants and
black shirts with white letters on the back spelling out different acronyms such as S. W. A.T., and
K.B.I, KDH&E;
The storm troopers were actually Bio HAZ MAT men
testing to see if the air quality in the house was higher than their acceptable limits of
risk of having a chemical explosion occur
while in the house on that afternoon of January
when officers of the Sheriff’s Office Special Operations Group
executed a search warrant at my house on Main St.in my small town in Kansas and
made entry at the location and
took me into custody while
Certified **** Lab Techs from the Sheriff’s Office
collected 2 Mountain Dew bottles and
some rubber tubing and
rendered the items safe and
Agents of HazMat Inc. were contacted and
responded to collect the hazardous materials for disposal
I sat in the back seat of the cop car and
thought this might be a big deal
this could be a bad way to spend the day
Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 2:42 AM UTC
I watched the planets fall, all of them. One by one..
Dropped, dropped, dropped
Dropped, dropped, dropped,
Dropped,
Dropped,
Yet there you stood, on the surface
Giving the moon a reason not to give up as it held its own with the competition of the stars
I watched the tides try to drown out the portraits of the night,
Even isolated from time, the speckles that were fallen specks from God's eyes shine bright
Bright enough to find those planets in the darkness of space
Even as they continued to
Drop, drop, drop
Drop, drop, drop
Drop,
Drop,
All of these breathtaking creations of God own this space with no gravity
But,
Even in the midst of the trillion wonders of the furthest sky
I can't take my eyes off of you
Effortlessly, you captivate constellations
You slow down shooting stars
& the moons gather around to worship you as if the universe has deemed you theirs
I just gaze
You blew me a kiss
It caught fire & somehow found its way to me
I've yet to put it out
I watch every move you make
& study anything that rolls off of your lips
The new trend is to make you laugh & watch you cause an eclipse
The Sun & Moon usually get really upset with each other about who you like more
I laugh simply because I know it's me
I'm sorry...
I *hope it's me
But who am I, or more so who would I be?
To compose such audacity to declare that the one thing that keeps the universe flowing is the same creation that God would allow to give her heart to me
Yeah right
I might as well catch up with the planets
Dropping, dropping, dropping
Dropping, dropping, dropping
Dropping,
Dropping,
I catch your attention
& you,
You catch me
I was enjoying the thrill of falling
Even as we dance on the Big Dipper
We swim with Piscis Astrinus
& in our spare time we fly with Volans
We shoot down any doubt that may exist with Sagittarius
& we embrace the adoration from all of God's paintings that exist in the night sky
Your eyes
God, those innocent eyes
They see my soul in the same light that the ecliptic pierces though the zodiac stem groupings
All this space & I can't stay away from you
Even in the midst of the trillion wonders of the furthest sky
I can't take my eyes off of you
I breathe deeply and often as if your love is my oxygen and I know I'm never running out
I watched our fears fall, all of them. One by one.
Drop, drop, drop
Drop, drop, drop
Drop,
Drop,
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 12:04 AM UTC
Outside the borders of this asylum’s garden not much is in bloom.
Seems fastidiousness of this establishment’s gardener is derangement of decadence:
... neat little rows of pansies,
followed by neat little rows of anemones, with alternate groupings of hostas and Lenten roses behind.
All against the backdrop of viburnums,
capped with hydrangea at each end.
The airy sprays of baby’s breath and coral bells give veils of blossoms not to obscure color behind, making it all sparkle, as if some fairytale world,
encapsulated by a wall of hemlock,
like an evergreen iron curtain.
And I am certain,
I am more insane in here
than beyond that gate where
dandelions push through cracks of pavement and my shaking cold body
is not riddled with
the rainbow colored pharmaceutical
salad of this insanity.
Nov 13, 2015
Nov 13, 2015 at 4:12 PM UTC
Language can be used to unify
representing our cultural groupings
of religion,
caste,
region
Language is power,
the power to name
It is the most potent instrument of culture
Language is sweet tongued
riddles in speech
beautifully balanced rhythm
in original language
A widespread...language game
A game with hidden rules:
indigenous structures and rhythms
referring by analogy to something else
with hidden meanings which must be searched for
Take our language away and
We have fallen apart
A foreign tongue will send tremors of fear into every heart
“Oh Lord, save Thy people”
The great Evil has come:
Language of the small and elite
the petty-bourgeoisie readership
It has established a kind of presence
It has created its own momentum.
It doesn’t go anywhere.
There’s nothing you can do with it to make it sing.
It’s heavy. It’s wooden.
A strategy of language manipulation
The darkness drops again
Translation is a battleground,
mere anarchy loosened upon the world
The neutralizing alternative
interlanguage,
mimicking
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun
Take our language and our center cannot hold
Things fall apart.
Or construct the lens through which understanding takes place:
What is it in your dialect?
The result is incredible.
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 8:01 PM UTC
I don't believe in adding
round shapes of varying
diameter I don't believe
in groupings of similar
objects for aesthetic
pleasure I don't believe
in collection for sake of
comfort or to appease
some wealthy donor
I don't believe in some
mass of tangled string
that defines the universe
I don't believe in museum
display signs that ask
you to not touch I don't
believe in the science of
star symbols I don't believe
in your grasp as bait or
as appeasement or as a
subtle reminder that I am
alive I don't believe in
my eyes in the mirror as
you exit the room, quietly
Feb 13, 2014
Feb 13, 2014 at 12:43 AM UTC
Let me show you to that burrowed house
up on the hill, it's ages old!
Come, let us shuffle through its memories
and see what is to unfold.
Faded are the shingles
with windows yellowed and stale,
through overexposure to the sun
all of the paint is flecked and pale.
Tattered is the rosy wallpaper
stained are the wooden floors,
and all of the hardened, crusty carpets
are discolored with ancient molds.
Winds howl through the hallways
yet are too damp in the midst of heat,
not to mention winters' frigidness seeping in
not one table can stand, their legs too weak.
Grass has sprung up through the floorboards
pipes are rusted and they leak.
Every bulb is dead, the curtains are shreds;
both groupings are now just clouded and meek.
But glance upon these remains once more,
see what they have to hide-
for not until you know there's gold
would you look for a treasured chest to peek inside.
All lights and curtains are worn down with fingerprints;
these rooms must have been quite used.
Not often such delicacy can be found, seeing
floors and pipes both falling to nature's muse.
Tables' legs are old and tired of standing,
why not let them sit a while?
Yet no matter what weather it shall be exposed to
this home, to its fate, has reconciled.
Carpets all were once soft and
scrunched between our children's toes,
how beatiful these floors and wallpaper must've been.
How beautiful? Only us aged would know.
The paint was once pungently new
it gleamed in softened sunlight,
while the windows acted as doors to dream's ways
and the shingles kept out the night.
Let me show you to that burrowed house
what memories it holds of ours, my dear
Come, lay here with me in this bed we shared
for now, in looking back, we hold no fear.
Dec 25, 2013
Dec 25, 2013 at 3:15 PM UTC
To him,
she's the calm in the blustering of his mother,
a goddess against the devilish charms of the libertine father,
a dry land away from the wettest inequities of coitus,
a blue violet in the skies of her affection—love and compassion
grows of her red lotus,
far apart from peers; they shunned her from their groupings,
a series of events makes her love home; so unlike, amongst
many few, to seem fictional as movies.
A queen; diamonded on the silk of her skin,
maturity read in her eyes, and red as her passionate lips,
fetching to behold—spirit, looks, and within.
"He who finds a wife finds what is good and receives favor
from the Lord" __(Prov 18:22 NIV)__
Aug 27, 2022
Aug 27, 2022 at 1:26 PM UTC
Lawrence Hall, HSG
[email protected]
Election Night 2024: Dry Bones
“All we are, basically, are monkeys with car keys”
-Grandma Woody in Northern Exposure, “Animals R Us,” 1991
An early dusk falls under clouds from the Gulf
Yellow houselights wink on as daylight winks off
Supper in greasy bags from fast-fooderies
That everyone argues they can’t afford
Then like the lozenge in A Space Odyssey
A screen appears and dominates all
And family groupings center themselves around it
In excited cavortings before the images
Of brightly-colored cultic election scores
As fists swinging dry bones crush enemy skulls
Nov 5, 2024
Nov 5, 2024 at 8:38 AM UTC
I tend to fall in love with T.V. characters
who could never be real,
but I trick myself into thinking:
maybe they could be.
I tend to think everyone is homosexual
now that same-sex marriage is legal,
and I wonder if my boyfriend enjoys:
*** with a man behind my back.
I tend to reject any category or groupings,
meaning I prefer to stand alone,
thinking that it somehow:
makes me better than the rest.
I tend to pay no attention to the speaker
as they speak, but rather,
I listen to the words and imagine:
these words were meant for me.
I tend to wonder if I set my expectations too high,
or if my childhood was too perfect,
which causes me to picture:
a perfect fairy-tale as my future.
I tend to push my partners too hard,
often creating cynical tension
for lack of appeasement that goes something like:
thank you for the broken heart.
Feb 9, 2016
Feb 9, 2016 at 11:39 AM UTC
to be kissed by him is to be trudging along a sidewalk in the midst of November, alone, cold, searching in the solemn for something to put an abrupt stop to your melancholy, and allow the coldness to heal the hot blood flowing from your open wounds,
a light blue car passes by you and it's playing the song you haven't heard since you were fifteen and in love, naive and in love, but feeling the warmth that love brings in every molecule in your body, filling your lungs and oxygenating your blood with familiar rhythmic groupings and effervescent notes
your head lifts from your chest and the blockage from your ear canals drain and suddenly you can hear sounds that perpetually stimulate your heart strings, tugging and pulling, allowing tears to accumulate and flow through your ducts until your universe is no longer recognizable and in a state of nostalgic, aqueous disarray
you wipe the tears from your eyes,
you open your eyes,
you look into his eyes,
and oh god, you can see.
Apr 9, 2018
Apr 9, 2018 at 11:44 PM UTC
*In the wee hour of morn I find myself
beginning to 'break'
Mind feverishly trying to escape the
chain of flesh , as if sanity were being
tested , creativity divested
Seven notes are typically not enough , twenty six
symbols in myriad groupings , white
noise confusion , in control illusions
A dump truck filled with crush and run -
dripping water on a lonesome road
Crumbling walls laden with Block Mason -
indiscretions vying for a sin removing -
coat of cheap paint
A telephone pole supported by wiring swinging
in midair , drunk on depression pills catching
my gaze in cheap artwork , narcoleptic days
Clabbered milk thrown to the hogs , nightmare
K-9 dogs unable to be explained
My friend the wind at the window with no one to play
Bright eyes refuse to focus when the child forgets their way*
Jul 20, 2016
Jul 20, 2016 at 12:19 AM UTC
Pixies dance in rays of moonlight sprinkling magic dust across the veil. Mist rises the morning after and mushrooms tell the tale. Groupings of circles where pixy dust was thrown down last. Waiting to be harvested by industries gnomes, and carried away to their lairs. Each full moon the cycle begins anew. Fairies spreading their magic, in fairy land that is what they love to do.
Feb 22, 2016
Feb 22, 2016 at 9:41 PM UTC