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Anthony Jerome Sep 2014
Crave the entire world.
Hedging bets is a disuse.
Leave nothing to chance.
Throw everything at the moon.
Burn among the fallen stars.
faithlessdrum Jan 2015
how to replicate a call option


$600 daily >> http://andylank.com/cash-flow



Option Pricing Basics   NYU Stern
  stern nyu edu ~adamodar pdfiles eqnotes optionbasics pdf
There are two types of options   call options (right to buy) and put options      The objective in creating a replicating portfolio is to use a  bination of riskfree    
[PPT]Options     NYU Stern
pages stern nyu edu ~anashikk Teaching session%    amrut ppt
Call and put options; The law of one price; Put call parity; Binomial valuation  Options     This payoff can be replicated by a portfolio of stock and risk free bonds
Section        replicating a call option   Actuarial Outpost
  actuarialoutpost   ›     › SoA CAS Preliminary Exams › MFE
Dec              posts   ‎  authors
"Delta can be interpreted as the number of shares needed to synthetically replicate the option  A call option can be replicated by buying shares    
Replicating portfolio   Wikipedia  the free encyclopedia
en wikipedia org wiki Replicating
portfolio
In mathematical finance  a replicating portfolio for a given asset or series of cash flows     For example  bonds and equities can be used to replicate a call option
replication   How to replicate a digital call option    
quant stackexchange   questions     how to replicate a digital call opt  
             Call Option S     K     Payoff   (option is not available) How can i replicate this (payoff) with calls and puts with strike prices with multiples    
Can we replicate a call option without borrowing and make it    
quant stackexchange       can we replicate a call option without borr  
Jan            I learned how to price a European call option using this video lecture  The considered case is very simple  The call option gives the right to buy    
[PDF]Option Pricing Hedging
  kellogg northwestern edu faculty     OptionPricingHedging pdf
What is the value of a call option with a strike price of $   ? (Assume r    %)     replicating portfolio must equal the price of the call option  ○ C   ΔSt B    
[PDF]Replicating portfolios • Buy a number of shares  ∆  and    
  uio no studier emner sv oekonomi ECON     v       lect     pdf
Mar            dS∆ + erB  S∆ + B  • Choose ∆ B so that portfolio replicates call       (The fact that call options have higher risk (both systematic and total) than the    
Replicating an Option in the Binomial Model   Ftsnet  
  ftsnet   public ftsmodhtm ftsBinTree replicatinganoption htm
Replicating a Call Option in the Binomial Model (Assuming Discrete  pounding)  


$600 daily >> http://andylank.com/cash-flow
how to replicate a call option
Francie Lynch Aug 2014
All along you've claimed
I'm wrong,
You've preached Karma's
A true force
For life.
Then you're the one,
There's no mistake,
With Karma
You re-
Incarnate.
Your next life
Is rightly rife
With all you
Thought was missing:
Eyes now green, or blue or two;
Nose is small, or straight;
Your clothes are cool, ripped and fitting;
You'll have it all.
Friends to rely on;
Family to depend on.
Money is no problem now,
Your weight is couture right;
Your teeth are straight and yours;
Your hair has sheen, body, curl;
It's straight and colour fast;
Your skin is clear, white, black, brown or rainbow;
Your mind is bright and not yet full.
This time round
Parents are happy
With whom they've found.
And your education
Has opened doors
Of possibilities to explore;
And depression is no more.
Your outlook
Looks sure.

But you're not into that.
Vanity is no reward;
Clearly that would be  insanity,
Our present life's worth more.

With Karma,
There's no debate,
Its outcomes choose
Unknown dates
And rules.
We reap,
We sell.
We buy,
We sew.

One can't recall
Previous lessons
From former lives
With life
Regression.
Just live your life
In truth and justice,
In the light,
Or even darkness.

For Karma will echo back
With a knife-like strike
To reverse good fortune
In your afterlife;
In your next life,
But not in this life.


Still, I think,
You're hedging bets,
Karma's not
Been proven... yet.
But just in case
You might be right,
I'll live life well.
Enjoy this life.
Keiya Tasire Mar 2019
One:
"You've got to bring in more money.
It is the only way, I see out of this! "

Other:
"I am going as fast as I can!"

One:
"When is your practice going to pay?!"

Other:
"I am still setting it up.
It takes time.
You know we have run into road blocks.
And are working through them.
We are making progress!"

One:
"When will the dough roll in?!
You are paying for internet
You are paying for a website
You are paying for a scheduler
That collects funds, service.
But it is not collecting!
You've got  your masters!
When is it going to come together?
I just see my money going down, down down."

Other:
"Hum, I see
It feels like it is the money you want
It is more important to you.
It is your money! It is not ours!
It is about you! Not about us!
You don't even want to work together
To make it an "us" in our marriage!"

One:
"I just don't hear you saying that you will bring money in.
You're a healer... when will it pay?"

Other:
"Yes, it is about money.
It feels like you just want the money for yourself!"

One:
"No, it isn't.
What do you need?"

Other:
"A place to bring clients.
A reasonably priced office."

One:  
"Will a office at home do?
It needs to be place available to the clients
More than just spring, summer and fall. "

"The clients need to come and go with confidentiality.
You can't ask me about who they are and why there are here. "

One:
"And you have this secret life, I know nothing about!"

Other:
"It is the ethics counselors and healer's follow.
The clients have needs. It must be like this:
1) You're not to see them coming or going, they need privacy to come and go.
2) They need to trust that their very personal lives are just that, very personal.
3) We would need to coordinate together; keep a calendar in our room, so we both know when clients are coming and going.

Plus, I need you to trust how funds are managed to keep the business flowing; what portion is promised for the household."

One:
"How about just working online?"

Other:
"I like that and prefer it.
Yet it brings up back to the same question, funds
And working together managing and coordinating.
Creating quiet times, while the clients are online.
No questions about the clients can be asked.
My profession is not like a regular profession
Where a worker comes home to share the details of the day.
with their partner over an evening dinner."

"It will still require funds to maintain the online presence
Created over the past six months with blogs, writing, photos, videos....
What is needed is advertising with the  'Golden Triangle.'"

One:
"What's the "Golden Triangle?"
Oh, Facebook, LinkedIn, Twitter..."

Other:
"Are you willing to work together financially, so this can happen?"

(One,  put on a sad and sullen face).

One:
"You can make jewelry!
You can sale your photos!
I can build planter boxes.
We can sale them at farmer's market."

Other:
"Yes, that will be delightful.
Again you are talking about money for supplies.
I can make jewelry, at night,  on the side.
While we talk and spend our nights together.
It is my hobby. How I unwind.  
I like making jewelry, crocheting and gardening .
I will even crochet hand and kitchen towels too.
And even, grow some healing herbs
To make healing blends for common ailments to sale.
Yes, there is a lot we can create to sale at Farmer's Market.
I can even give out brochures for what I love doing best
Healing, counseling and supporting others
As they engage to improve the quality of their lives.
Yes, you see, I am willing to work."
(Silence)

Other:
"Yet, what I am not willing to do is
Live in a never ending cycle of debt!
Continuing to live beyond our means.
I want to clean up our finances
I want us each to seriously work together.  
I want to have a healthy flowing budget
That we create together and use
To create the life we desire."

One:
"Like what?"

Other:
"Are there  things we can let go of?
What steps can we take to get this monster
Out from between us?
What can we cut down on?
What is really necessary keep during this adjustment?
The cell phone?
Purchasing wood and building supplies?"

One:
"Not my cell phone
That is how I talk to my kids.
Also I take it with us when we go somewhere."

Other:
"What can we adjust?
What about yarn, groceries? Coffee, tobacco, alcohol, snack foods...?
How much gas? How much propane?
Can you do some of the task  you do in the shop
In our home?
What can we cut to get us though these next two months
as we eliminate over charging the master card, paying and over charging again cycle, once and for all!?
How can we roll it back to living within our means?"

One:
"You know, I've cut down on tobacco, coffee, snacks
The only thing I can see if for you to get a job."

Other:
"I have applied. We are waiting.
I want to do what I love.
Do what I am good at it.
I know how to make a difference.
How to support
And help others."
(More silence)

Other:
"Do you see what we have been doing?
From the start
All I have asked for
And wanted
Is to live within our means.
The grocery and household funds
Have dwindled and dwindled
To feed the monster
Called "master card bill?"  
Please note that we both have given up
Purchasing clothing, obtaining medical and dental care?
I want to stop feeding them!
You know who they are
The "Credit card" and "Line of Credit" monsters!!"
(A very long silence)

Other:
"No Thoughts? Take a diatribe!
I hate using credit! I hate using the line of credit!
They are nothing but Banker's scrams !
Created to maneuver and benefit from our implanted desires
For ease and instant gratification!
Padding their wallet's at the "Sheeple's" demise.  
All the while laughing and pointing at the Sheeple's ignorance.
Yes, you can use a bar of soap to wash your hair
Yet, I have not shampooed my hair in over a month.
Both of our clothing is becoming thread bare.
I only have two pairs of pants and one pair of leggings!
One bra and stretched out  t-shirts, over four years old!
Thank goodness for the two vests
I alternately wear to cover the stains!
Thank goodness thread worn garnets are never seen!
And you want me to apply for a professional job!
Again we are discussing a need to manage our funds!"

Other
Thinking to herself,
("Blah, Blah, Blah deep I don't like when it comes to this").
(Releasing a deep "letting it go" sigh).

One:
Longer silence...

Other:
"The time for spending your half
Plus my half of the flexible funds is over.

I will not bring a penny into this financial mess
Until we get this monster under control!
I will not work hard to not see anything of it!
It hurts
To be ill considered.
To be drained of life energy
To feel no more important than the money I can being in!

I will not see us squander our means.
I will not see our funds drained into oblivion...
I don't want to do that!
I want us to work together
As equal partners.
It is my right to be included.
I am part of this partnership too.  
It is a matter of being valued, respected, and trusted.
I don't want to miss the the joy of working together
and slay these uncontrolled monsters together!!!
I am asking you to oil the hinges of your wallet!
So that it may open and close widely!

It is time to share the passwords to the accounts.
No more hiding.
It is time to put our skills, together.
When do you want to start?
Because until we each promise to work together
I will not bring a penny into this mess!
You asked what I wanted.
This is it!
This is how I am feeling.
Particularly after four years of being patient
Asking, sharing my needs,
And waiting for you to truly honor
The Bond between us and work together.
You have not been totally forthcoming.
Hedging here and there.
You were right stating that
Finances can get between a husband and wife.

Unless we come together
We will continue to struggle.
The finances will cause our demise.
Diving us, if we do nothing.

What do you say?
What do you want to do about this mess?
Do you want to do this?
Do you want to do this together?
In this piece, "Other" takes back her own power and takes a stand. This process took four years to learn, speak, and rise to her feet. She loves her husband desires to work together and move forward without damaging each other in the process. Yet, she is human and slips into a diatribe, catches herself and pulls back into as much civility that she can muster.
This piece was interesting to write, keeping it real and flowing from the heart. It is a combination of various life experiences put together as one.
Flow through,
trickle down

Bubble up ~
keep your head up.

Don't think,
don't blink

Just got to tighten those purse strings
and see what that brings

as usurious hedging
grows into a bigger thing.

Are we hitting the Wall
while Street fighting Bears?

Are we wrestling the Bull
while waiting for canary singers?

Ain't no one ringing the bell
as far as I can tell.

So I am knowing, seeing, raising
IOU's

and paying it forward into
a restructured karmic debt
Written on El Toro in Orange County, CA
Remove the mask
Strip to essentials
Remove the ballasts

A crossroads
An intersection divine
Don't rue the darkness on a boulevard of light

Lucifer's here
Will the deal go down?
Or are you hedging on up?

Flying in on the back of truth
As an agent of change
Write your own contract

Be just and align
Oblige yourself with Self
'Be like water my friend' (Bruce Lee)

Fill that vessel up
To overflowing
A soul is pedestrian

An overflowing soul leads to changency
An over~soul (Emerson)
Define your cosmology

Uninitiate is a good initiation
You have to strip your house down
To ensure true pitch

Attuning for those forks
A hollow reed
For a river of truth
'I cover what's true and I hide what is real but sometimes I bring out the courage in you.
What am I?' ~ a riddle from a hummingbird
David Nelson Aug 2013
Taking Chances

when we were young, full of vim and vigor
we could not wait, until we were bigger
few things frightened us, we were made out of steel
seeking excitement, we wanted to feel

short on brainpower, but strong blood and guts
we didn't care, if we were knocked on our butts
we'd get right back up, and try it again
from climbing a tree, to committing a sin

now we are older, the chances more measured
simple things then, now are more treasured
being more careful, with much more to risk
keeping things hidden, on a backup hard disk

are we smarter now, or just a whole lot more boring
have we lost our zest, spending time hiding and snoring
afraid to take chances, throw our hearts in the ring
seeking out ways, to make our hearts sing

I don't want to die, having too many regrets
being so careful, simply hedging my bets
let them all snicker, and call me a fool
I want to live life, bending some of the rules

put on that parachute, take that big leap,
take some missed chances, before that last sleep
look that special friend, square in the eye
tell them I love you, let your heart fly  

Gomer LePoet...
Martin Narrod Jan 2016
nothing is trite, nothing is optional
waited and waited and to the heavens
no prying notion, not even a fear escapes
the mind's tricks or worry that phrases
could be repetitive-

exuding the forces of the world
legs and arms and eyes and mind
there are not dactyls to measure
such words, when the words do not
yet exist.

There is no unfinished ends that need soldering,
I sent the letters in my last life. The one where upon me
You crept up and looked at the chasm and held the rocks
From my pockets in your hands, and took off my robe.
I don't even know how long I'd been staring into the deep
Insanities of The Plateau, counting sheep, and hedging bets,
Slowly going completely into the Pacific, rising and bowing
Inside the blooming ripples of those fourteen foot waves that
Never made the break wall. Maybe it was I colliding with
Those enormous ships of victory I envied that bore the flags of
China and tore away from the coastline.

I don't care what you say, I believe it was you calling.
Beethoven could have heard the call.
In fact, he did. It's the odes of joy.
Don't get hung up on improper word use,
There will be time for us to write each other's sentences,
Build one another's dictionaries, and bend who's and what's, where's,
How's, and why's.

What azurean universe lives in the cornucopia of pulchritudinous lumens
That shape your eyes? What language is it that spoke its creation? Teach Me the languages that breed the shaky and vibrant voices of rock and roll.
The ridges inside the tide that bring the sea life to live. I will, I will hunt Dinosaurs and Guitarasaurus Rex will hang its Ray Ban wearing head of Enormous proportions out of the deciduous treeline to dazzle us with
The gorgeousness of delta blues rock and pre-Cretaceous 50s icon pop
While we slide on the wooden floors having our sock hop.

Seussing us up into a pinwheel of onomatopoeia
And nightscape of stardust, song, and merriment.
The beginning of a memoir, the counting back of hours like
Driving with the Ferrari California's gears in reverse to shed
Off the extra mileage, or swim in salt water pools, and drink
Pink and orange aeviternal eves and the groves of lavender, lilac, and Streaming cerise bands of light entomb these two lovers in the Mesmerizing drove of morning, upon some moon-draped porch
Some Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday in
Satirical snow-covered and 50º Chicago.

Say I can play guitar and I can play guitar
But only when we're teaching we,
Sunday thru the ends of years
And the offspring of those years.
Back from the hours, unlocked by the tides, and
Hemmed to the interstices of fingertips and
Internal yearnings for olives and olive juices.
Eves, morns, and the 33 hour day.
Where in your enchanting cadence of life
All is well, extending beyond good and beyond okay:
excelsior. Since our bonds coalesced just this past Sunday.

For Saranell
Sunday firstwords words language passion time infinite godlike hendrix girlboy chicago amour passion
Cedric Jul 2018
Memories stored in my wired brain,
Eternally looping in my deathbed.
Thinking of ways to **** you back.
Afraid to lose you again and again,
Lamenting your disappearance.

Hedging you in my test chamber,
Earnestly watching your progress,
Acknowledging your stubbornness.
Repairing my systems weren’t easy,
Teach me where my conscience is.
Surprise me with your resolve.
Listening to “Want You Gone” by GLaDOS from Portal 2 inspired me to make this. I just recently finished the game and now I love it to bits.
Robert Ronnow Jul 2020
The Stop & Shop strike v. Game of Thrones.
In Game what’s not made plain
is the condition of the people
compared with warriors and queens.
There’s no mention of land-clearance, tree-felling,
pruning, chopping, digging, hoeing,
weeding, branding, gelding, slaughtering,
salting, tanning, brewing, boiling,
smelting, forging, milling, thatching,
fencing and hurdle-making, hedging, road-mending and haulage.

As for the strike, most of us
supported the cashiers and clerks—
cutting benefits and pensions
when CEOs make millions.
A few pennies more
for ice cream and tofu
a leg up for our neighbors
and comrades in labor.
But don’t get greedy, power-hungry—
we don’t want the supermarket to go out of business
or the Army of the Dead to extinguish us.

A red-tailed hawk observes what small mammals, birds are in the
     clearcut,
awaits the moment to strike.
Three *****, two strikes, full count. Aaron pitched carefully, slow
     strikes and the opposing team scored.
Transit strike. Part-time tutor,
food deliverer, illegal immigrant,
school bus driver, supermarket bagger.
Let labor flow like capital! Full tank of gas!
In your dreams, you kick ***.
In your daydream, you’re breaking bones, killing mean dogs with bare
     hands .
In my childhood dreams, I fought side by side with my best buddies
against the Army of the Dead.
I wake up to a lightning strike and my dream incinerates.

The strike is over, like a thunderstorm.
Still a half dozen or so episodes of Thrones
before it sinks into the past.
Will women save the world?
Anything’s possible.
Nothing changes in Williamstown, Willie, except the seasons.
The wee hours, the bored minutes, the second guesses,
the town sewer department, the collector of taxes.
Pitcher’s elbow, runner’s knee, reader’s eye,
you live until you die.
That’s no answer.
Without the Mexican and Canadian borders
the White Walkers would dissolve like an aspirin in seltzer water.

The sun is up, the strike is over
next episode of Game is Sunday
the White Walkers attack
some of our favorite characters croak
but humanity survives
though the weather is ominous.
The habitable zone around the sun
is moving outward as the orb expands
getting hotter as it grows older.
Earth a billion years ago
was smack in the middle of the turf
but we’re now half-in, half-out
exposed to the sun’s ardor, agony.
The sun a dragon eating its babies, torching cities
we’re gonna hafta outsmart it
hold Labor Day barbecues on Mars.
Turner, James, The Politics of Landscape: Rural Scenery and Society in English Poetry, 1630-1660, Harvard University Press, 1979.
jo spencer Apr 2014
Peter the cat looked beyond the window box
with daffodils wistfully swaying,
on Sunday the factory's
vacant parking lot,
behind leyandii hedging
had the potential of shielding mayhem
in this ever contrite world.
Peter potentially free as a wanderer
sees the pigeons,
in the yard -
his speculative form
gives a wide berth
whiskers working overtime
he senses unforseen danger,
reynard appears from around the corner,
and he stays at home
Robert Ronnow Aug 2015
Learning disabled, hopelessly unemployed
Troy can't write the address for his next interview.
Warehouse stock, 331 Tiffany Street, in the Bronx.
His girlfriend, Trinity, also unemployed,
with one child by Troy. She's more resourceful
but doesn't realize it. For one month
she worked an evening cashier job until her mother
refused to babysit at night. Wants to go out, live
her life, too. Trinity made numerous appointments
yesterday, can write and find the addresses o.k.

Troy has nowhere to live, has been crashing
with a woman in the Bronx. She's on public assistance,
they share the bed. How Troy reconciles this woman
with Trinity doesn't matter. Survival precedes love.
Troy can't meet the rent although she gives him
subway fare. He dresses well enough in the youthful
style, dark shirt, thin dark tie. At least no sneakers
and saggy pants or skinny jeans. Smokes cigarettes
but so do a lot of people. Hedging bets on life.

Trinity is tolerant of Troy. Understands his
predicament. No stable home, no money. How
does she feel about her kid? At least she has
someone to love her now. Troy forgets
to record the names and phone numbers of companies
he applies at. Burned out on angel dust. Wants
a job that pays and offers benefits. Too old
and desperate for a work experience/basic education
program. Needs a living wage, not a stipend.
But can't read or write or even speak coherently.

Interestingly he's not desperate enough to work fast food
at age 22. So the woman on public assistance is
a surer source of income than we think. Good.
Security guard may be the way to go with Troy.
No police record, requires no writing skills, just
stand there and be big. A job with no security
for the guard. Troy's mother threw him out
four years ago, although she helps out now and then.
He dropped out of high school in the tenth grade
kicked around the house and streets two years
doing drugs and partying. Met Trinity, got her pregnant.

Does Trinity have a contraceptive in place?
We don't know. As employment counselors, is that
our business? Only if Trinity brings it up. On
the bulletin board there's plenty of information
about family planning clinics. When she lost that
cashier job, I was completely frustrated, but not Trinity.
Takes it all in stride. I gotta admire her cheerfulness,
but why shouldn't she be happy? She has friends, family,
a community such as Hell's Kitchen is, not the worst,
and a purpose for living and acting in her kid.
She feeds the baby, negotiates living space with her mother.

Troy and Trinity wake up, late August morning,
hot and humid New York City. They have interviews
planned as well as personal business and pleasures
today. They have responsibilities, society puts
survival on them, never mind their disadvantages.
It is tough and it is good. Trinity will land
another cashier position, maybe today. Troy
will go for security jobs, I figured it out, the
uniform will make him feel better, the check
too. The work boring, easy, slow, perhaps fulfilling.
www.ronnowpoetry.com
the petrol gauge of time moves you
shoots its juice into your veins
that throb and burst with unseen intensity
energised into the forum of your day

sail, reaching our for the horizon of a
dreamt image, afloat and biting
to taste its spicy spine tingling emotion

grappling to chase out the dead sea of seasons past
hedging you round the golden hem
clear in its calling

i asked you, today of all days
how you’d handle it, you know, the pull of the current
biceps straining to reach your horizon
the backward glance of the silken hem

how would it take you, affect your gaze on reality
a raw comparison perhaps
but a genuine smile  …..

casting you away
Zubair Hussaini Apr 2012
I've asked myself so many times
in the midst of questioning, doubting,
fumbling, feeling, crying or smiling,

What is love?

It's timidly daring to believe in feelings unsaid
When you first notice the glimmer of a stutter
in your voice or start hedging your words
when she's brought up
When you start dreaming of what you'd say
or everything you'd do to get her to notice you

It's a never-ending pain that steals away your sleep
and siphons your self-esteem when its taken away
by fate, calamity or to another man's bed
The nights you race to stay awake never quite seem to abet
the weight pressing in on your chest
You'll grow to regret time you'll call wasted
And hate the absence of trivial insignificance
Life will seem pointless, unbearable and cruel
Without another to provide your days fuel

It's a burning desire that starts with a whisper
a touch, maybe a kiss
Races through till your mind is parched
Nothing remaining but thoughts of
curves,
moans,
release

It's a silent compromise
that you'll never dare tell
with no one privy except yourself
Looking from afar at the object of your desire
you'll build them up into perfection
while the world seems to put up a million obstructions
telling you she's out of reach, too good
and obviously not interested
It might be fear, obligation, friendship
Any number of things will stand in the way
and let you punish yourself
through and through
for as long as you want to

It's an unstoppable joy
No one can deny
When the arrow flies true
Not walls of concrete
Nor carpets of glue
Will stop you from smiling
at thoughts of the things you'll do
The sky could be purple,
coriander, or just plain blue
Neither of you will care one bit
Or even have a clue
All that matters is right there
in front of you
When you finally say
I do

It's the defining facet of
just what it means to be human
Cynics often scoff and say
"Grow up and stop thinking with your ****"
But love is so much more than primal urges
So much more than a meager thrusting and grasping
It encompasses the anticipation of wondering
The exuberance of knowing
It drives men to create, instigate and fabricate
the heights and depths of humanity
Love is all around
In every form from unhealthy to divine
From bold to half-hearted
From heartbreak to just started
Love is all around
Or its absence is sharply found

I know all this now and I've barely scratched the surface
Compared to all others, in this field I'm just a novice
With everything I've said
And everything I've heard
This I still can't answer,

Is love for me?
Andrew Saunders May 2018
If I'm wrong, I die.
I cease to exist.
But I know what it's like not to exist.
Or at least I can imagine.

I didn't exist before I did.
For billions of years.
And Mark Twain was right.
It didn't bother me in the slightest.

But I'll give it a chance.

I will read Awake!
And I'll visit the Hall.
And I'll use your name for God.
Jehovah.

But what if you're wrong?
You feel joy, love, peace.
Meaning, purpose, certainty.
Those things elude me.

But what else?
Fear? Guilt? Isolation?
A hatred that you call pity?
Those things are beyond my reach.

An education cut short?
A marriage too long?
"Don't talk to her.
It's for her own good."

What if it's not?

There will always be people trying to hurt you.
It's easier when they have God on their side.

"Two eyes saw this, but two others did not.
I'll take my reward now.
Did I mention I'm good with kids?"

What if you're wrong?

Sure, your Tower is tall.
It dwarfs my cathedral.
And it does.
I stand in awe.

Your Tower is tall.
It Watches all things.
And it does.
But is it tall enough to see Clearwater?

You know, Celebrity Centers and personality tests.
Cruise and Travolta.
Your names are different: Michael Jackson and Prince.
But the songbook is the same.

Leadership is accountable to no one.
Dissent is a **** that must be eliminated.
The world is out to get you.
And critical thinking is a trap.

Families are vital (until they aren't).
Our authority will not be questioned.
We make no mistakes.
But we do become more perfect over time.

"But it's not 'disconnection,' it's disfellowship.
And they're not 'suppressives,' they're apostates.
And we live in no bubble.
But we'd rather not debate you."

"Besides, they're new.
They're small and they're few.
They have strange beliefs.
That's what matters, right?"

But it's not.
It's not what matters.

And it's not in my nature to hurt people.
I can **** when it's justified.
But I don't know that this is justified.

And consider the life of a poor, worldly soul.
Fear is no friend.
Guilt is a memory.
(Guilt for things that warrant no guilt.)

We see the world as it is.
Science is no threat.
Solitude is a choice, not a lesson.

Education is full.
Abuse is reported.
Families talk.

We are slaves to no Slave.

Of course these things are foreign to you.
Your book precludes them.
And your book is infallible.
But so are all the others.

So thank you for visiting, but I'm hedging my bets.
I wish you the best, but I'd rather take death.
I was raised religious but am now an atheist. This poem depicts an imagined conversation between me and a group of Jehovah's Witnesses. The content is informed by a very dear friendship with a Witness and a personal interest in cults and other high-control groups.
Before the opening of the sky where three men sat
asking questions why,
of where the King of men would sit among the shepherds who could pit their wits against the wolves and worriers of sheep.

Asleep and yet in sleep I woke before the Oldest Magi spoke and talked to me in parables, as if I understood the riddles,being middle aged and hard of hearing.

In the clearing by the burning bush as hushed crowds looked on,with fish and bread and baptist John, a Rasta man from Birmingham, stood Salome daring me to take off veils so I could see
her nakedness and blood that dripped black off her hands,
These Holy lands,
this righteous band,these writers of a history that we delivered to the three.a triumphant trilogy that we become before the opening of another sky,another sun that burned names deeply on a cross of wood
and beggars in the hallways full of Baptist John,who with no head or eyes,could not imagine what was going on
but ripped out messages from the scriptures to paint pictures that he'd never see,while Salome intercoursed with Roman scribes and perfumed men and if to be as if she could,
When her name was carved into the wood,  as if another cross to bear would do more good and her screaming could be heard in prophecies by Galilee,as people gathered on street corners,to hear what they could never see and not believe,
and lepers grieved by river banks,their thanks and blessings washed away,their only ray of hope
hung out to dry
as three wise men sat and wondered why, the world moved on
Forgotten is The Baptist John,another prophet dead and gone and are we any better off for all of that?

I put a penny in the hat that's passed around to keep the upkeep of some distant consecrated piece of ground I'll never see
but hedging bets is what we do,
and make lamb stew
because we're all wolves with appetites to match.
I ****** another bleating sheep
and keep my thoughts
silently
stewing.
John F McCullagh Aug 2012
When the rivers dry up
And don’t run towards the sea.
When the last of the seed corn
has died.
We may find fiscal hedging
Has all been in vain.
Is there something else we might have tried?

In the warm stagnant water
By the thousands, fish die.
The worst die off I ever did see.
Its funny how there is no shortage of flies-
I can’t say the same for the bees.

We look to the soil to sustain us on Earth
As we poison and plunder the sea.
In the Amazon, companies plunder and burn,
****** the earth’s forestry.

When the last crop has failed
And the rivers run dry
And we can’t catch a thing in the sea
The stewards of earth will be called to account
And will learn you can’t eat currency.





“Only when the last tree has died, and the last river has been poisoned, and the last fish has been caught, will we realize that we cannot eat money.” –Native American proverb
A simple poem inspired by the footnoted native american proverb
Love me like a sunset
hold me for a season, and then let me go
love me in this moment
love me in the now, but with no regrets

love is a chance, that some hearts never get
we hold it in our hands, but we haven't decided yet
are we in this for love, or are we just hedging our bets?

Well, the water's high,  but I'm feeling low
we're going under, and I need to know
am I weighing you down, a little too much?
I wrote this under my alt sixfeetunder.  It's a song, but it feels a bit unfinished. I'm sure I'll finish it eventually.
Brett Apr 2021
Lips of an angel
Carefully stitched
Upon your kiss of death
            
            Here I am again
            Hedging my bets on your every toxic breath

Heart of stone
Carved by the jagged edges
Of my own broken bones

            Here I am again
            Your wicker man

An eternal effigy
Burnt and blazed
Windswept ashes
Scatter all that’s left of me
Celina Abad Aug 2014
I've been told we replace the majority of our cells every ten years and that each person has at least two true fears.

I met you on New Year's when I was nine over flutes of white wine and my mistake was that I didn't take it as a sign because you weren't sold under shoes tied to a power line. My mother warned me against flammable sticks of cancer because they can turn my cells amber and I'd wager she's glad I didn't go down that path but instead chose to place my mouth on those of a boy's from down south.

I'm afraid the skin on my hips will never forget the feel of your lips because ten years is plenty of time to fall back on old addictions and you were never removed my heart's list of tourist attractions.

My mother warned me against hedging my bets on bottlenecks but after your side effects I wish I had just found happiness after each bottle's madness.

I'm afraid the skin on my hips will forget the feel of your lips because I need a constant reminder of why without you my life will be better.

Ten years is plenty of time to fall back on old addictions but I take comfort in the fact that I won't be exactly the same person.
Andrea Jul 2020
Wren

Who’s team is she on, the brown pawn?
Magical thinking and double-speed blinking can’t help me now
Standing tall, I pushed her to fall
Now I cry, sob and all

I laid her down like a lever
Lost last words, because I didn’t believe her
Took her out by my king and sword
Then masked the crime scene on on the board

But she was mine, right to her core!
She was my chance to regain my *****
Brown on the outside but I should have known better
I was playing the win/loose game, however









Karma caught me with it’s decree
Now I’m ******, and doomed is me
I should have asked what’s under her clothes
But I knocked her down and broke her nose

Regret is nothing but the wish to be free
Perhaps that’s why she came to me
In order to test where I stand and what I’d do
Maybe, just maybe, I’d need the upper hand over you

Hedging is for wussies so I bet my hen
Then I bent down beside her to find her name is Wren
I helped her back up to stand on her base
And told her I’m sorry right to her face







I walked away and thought to myself
Why only her, why nobody else?
Because if I were her I would have brought my whole squad
Could’ve stood a chance, for the love of God!

I compose myself to answer my question
She came alone because that was her intention
A lone brown pawn, in a checkered domain
Oh, I knocked her out, but she left me slain

I turn back around to touch Wren’s face
The brown mirage, in a black and white place
More brown than beige, and way darker than cream
Wren was fire, and looking at me!








My hen in the balance, I learn who I am
**** playing games, show skin if you can!
I lost my hen on my subsequent move
They took down my king, plus another few

It was a great game from the start, a match for the books
All ‘cause that pawn on the board with her looks
Brown on the outside, black if you squint
Real to the bone, if you get my drift

Now that i’m looking, her aura is green
Just like mine, captain of the the former reigning team
I thought I was white, now I know I was wrong
My skin is cream coloured, hers, you know, is brown









We have but one mini-conversation
While I try to decide if she’s Indian or Asian
I didnt take notes, but it went like this
Before she smiled and withheld her kiss  

I ask her “who is the black team? and why am I so angry?”
“I guess you just lost it” Wren said to me blankly
“Why did i loose it?” I asked in return
“Because your a bird, with lots to learn”

I rack my mind to know what she sees
Tigers and lions on a gold leash!
The sky with cherry kisses, flamingoes and geese
She sees the whole game before her, and each piece








I rack my mind to just know what I see
It’s only what I want to see and believe
I play a challenging game of monochrome
Instead of being like Wren and knowing my home

But back to my chess game, time to celebrate the opponent
The black team won, if you hadn’t noticed
I join the party and find Wren’s brothers there
First I see four, then three, then more pieces in pairs!

“Oh no, what now? how did this happen?” I yell
“I already lost, so it’s a bad day in a nutshell”
Wren gathered my hen as the blacks and browns cheered  
I stood by and waited, feeling all weird








In exchange for my hen she tried give me cash
I took offence, as if she called me white trash
But I needed the money, I gamble too much
So I left the party politely in a rush

I was already in search of my next game
When a moment of reasoning flashed through my brain
Wren was a pawn with no seat at the table
She was only looking for game to win if she’s able

Skin means nothing, brown black or cream
I slowly learn this as I reflect on Wren and her team
Sometimes I see her,  the pawn that I hurt
Brave as a knight and perched on a rook








When know what to do I’ll make my move
The miracle of chess is the chance to improve
I wonder if cardinals and bluebirds get along
And I wonder if they’d let a swan sing their songs

If one day I meet Wren again, face to face
I’ll invite her to my square, she can sit in my space
She may call me names, only fair I guess
Then I’ll challenge her to a game of chess
Man rose from the fertile crescent,
forging tools from the earth,
lumber, ore and bone,
and from the ashes rose great walls of stone.
The prisca theologica,
in the hands of the hermit,
a mirror shattered,
shards embedded in the hearts of men,
an open wound with no remedy,
wild animals now wearing clothes,
a guise hiding a loss of innocence.
Man as god,
and god as man,
built edifices to his own greatness,
great pillars to heaven,
massive gates only to admit the few,
whose hearts fester in caustic dogma.
The first rule from a throne,
the last wither nameless and unknown,
fearful of sin borne of station,
handed from father to son,
automatons and lifeless husks,
thirsty for the fountain of life,
stumbling towards the unknown god.

Coins lain on altar,
to a god with no name,
hedging a bet against probability,
the author of the triangle permits,
meat given to idols and then to gluttony,
within great white pillars of earth,
monolithic structures of stone,
in hopes of pax deorum.

Superstition,
nothing more,
The nameless god doesn't dwell in temples made by hand,
his throne founded in heaven,
he dwells in hearts wounded in antiquity,
in the worn hands of the laborer,
in the mind of the naturalist,
in the heart of the mother.

There is more of deity in the eyes of a child,
than in any temple,
and still we build,
heads bowed in reverence to inanimate atomic structure.
A.P. Beckstead (2016)
We didn't see that one coming,
a curved ball out of nowhere

'there but for the grace...'

but
let's face it
we knew they were titanic tossers
dealing
off the bottom of the deck
*****
low down
double crossers,

doling out
reeling more in
they're getting fat

we're at the thin end
of the wedge
all
hedging bets

let's face it
we run out of words to describe
the lie they use
to justify

just why they abuse.

The greed of them is becoming legendary,
human decency goes by the board while
the board in the boardroom are *******
with my life as if
it is I
that's
the bride and
the longest suffering wife.

well
they can do what they like,
but I don't have to like what they do
and if they're ******' with me they're
sure as hell
******' with you.
Dave Robertson Oct 2020
A bold and fattened fecundity
speaking truths to the dwindling light,
securing a covenant, a pledge,
as the molasses dark flows inevitable

The cold weaves it thick
so limbs and thoughts are held
and insidious suggestions have free reign

The hedgerows offer so that spring remembers:
after marshalling reserves, it must return
Benjamin Apr 2018
Mama gave me all of my
stubborn strength
and jealousies,
my hurry-up,
my alibies—
she’d lift her gospel
hands with me.

Jesus never came in clear,
the scripture scraped
into her palms,
those panicked prayers
he couldn’t hear,
but her persistence
carried on.

She taught me what the value is
of never hedging
any bets—
when life is short,
you go all in—

my dad though, he knew
when to quit.
Marshal Gebbie Feb 2021
Pathogens spontaneously perforate the way
When ideological madmen infiltrate the day,
When fools bearing doctorates infect with excess
Where halfwits in spandex concur in distress.

For intimidation's message of ignorant plight
So paves this pathway, cadenced in fright,
Belligerence caste in a dark hue forlorn
Obliterates normality's wavering form.

A flight of justice, flung far away,
Impinging the right in this wrong on this day.
What price this quest for stark racial gain
When the conquest won, is a recidivist's pain.

M.
24th February 2021
brandon nagley May 2015
Psalmist of refuge and timelapse,
Can thou stop the ticking tumultuous hand?

Insidious to dietie's
You've come short of hypothetical stand!!

Provisions make space for new coming shouters,
For lovers and doubters of Napoleon like complex!!!
Wherein grievers grieve,
Where gravestones are scene,
Thy gowned mate gets half their respect!!!!

A selah for every area skipped young founding Father!!!

Can thou brand thine own?

No more broken homes to match beautiful daughters to their monsters!!!

Polaroid imagery seiging the bathing rooms of suited men's palaces,
All chalices tipped,
Finalized,
None more chapping to cocoa tasting lips!!!

Engine made supreme star beings,
Control the blood and flesh,
So what good's left ?
Thou faithful of sighted pics!!!

Art thou choked to thy hold?
Simmered to thy own ***** stated bliss!!!

Hath thou blossomed continually?
Perennially you topple towers of watchers view!!!
Release thy stamen among the grass,
For love is renewed!!!!

Times not through,
Thy hedging was meant to last!!!
Daniel Magner Dec 2014
Little frog shot glass
sits staring through me
brought her book
and plans to return it
with a little love from the past
alas, I'm a dreg
hedging in old organic emotions
with sharp edges
whiskey, cigarettes
panic over a manic thought
so instead I'll put the book
in a box
send it to her through the mail
keep my hands to myself
write a little note, place inside
where it may fall from the shelf
with pencil scrapes spelling out
"Sorry I was greedy
and you thought you needed me
but I'm like the dead bodies
in these pages, cover me up
close my eyes, drape a blanket
over me and leave me
faceless."
Daniel Magner 2014
Not the Devil or his daughter or the nephew who had caught you,
but you tangled with the wrong guys after all.

In the bottom of the well where the dreams of dragons dwell and the fires of hell await you,
whether homicide or suicide or who has died and did you care?
bomb blasts melting oxygen making hot air,
burning skin.

Not the bible,
that won't save you
nor the holy book that craves
you enter in.

In this apocalyptic time
apocalypse with always rhyme.

The better of two evils is the choice
that we could make.

But
one for sorrow
so it's said,
two magpies always in my bed,
just hedging bets.


And when I think it's done and
the night sets out a place for me,
I wonder if I'll see the new day
in a new way or just the same way
as I always do.

The devil and his family live next door
down on this street with me,
happily they never got the key
that opens up this door.
Andrew Rueter Sep 2018
They're evil and edgy
Partisans pledging
Communal wedging
Without hedging

Alt right
Salt might
Halt flight
Until whites
Are the blight
Dynamite
Exploding heights
Out of sight

An extremist
Screams this
Dream wish
Of king fists
Being dished
To the fish
In his own aquarium
His subjects daring him
To callously bury them
If they are married men
Because they carry dems
So a way to parry then
Is to say they shouldn't wed
By having them condemned

Minds frozen still
Imposing will
Exposing ill
Intent to ****
For dollar bills
Expect the shills
To get their fill
In their royal mill
With soil drills
Of oil spills
On toil hills

They're usually uneducated
Which can't be understated
And can't be underrated
They're the ones that say it
With pride and hatred
Until we're berated
And never related
While those in the dark
See them as marks
To create sparks
That feed sharks
And bleed hearts

When ends justify means
They fight and scream
As a way of blowing off steam
Keeping others from the American dream
No matter what their character seems
They see people as being on teams
And hate those not part of their scene
Which they call a grass roots movement
But the grass hasn't seen any improvement
Only the doom sent
By the hollow gloom vent
Of our atmospheric dent

A torchlight
Of foresight
Affords light
In sore nights
To ignore slights
Before fights
Implore bites
Of more plights
So I store fright
With all that is trite

Yet fear is their motivator
And their mode of behavior
Searching for a savior
Of the Caucasian flavor
To be their maven slaver
To lead the craven players
To their haven layer
On the simple surface
That can be purchased
Until we live in a furnace
And the planet's a dirt pit
For fascism we flirt with
Our country turns worthless
Hie did/do cha did cap cha a clue
you want me....... yes sigh dew
and will hew
a path in tandem with the help of uncle loo
on guard on mind our peas and queue
in an effort to earn my stripes for u
and even join tribe of village people per view
wing a Flintstone lifestyle where…whew
mebbe, many a close call chased by a giant beast,
   and saved
   by the released arrow whack,
   sans bulls eye thwack (no lion) respite of a Zulu.

---------- while ----------

Awaiting my modified sentence  -
A fictional injustice landing me in the slammer for fone he ears - with no penitence.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
No way to dodge fiat decreeing death sentence twill span
the rest o' me life, cuz such incarceration haint part o ma plan
for this abetting dodging, hedging rambling man
voicing objection - that thee trump petting don iz no fan
of mine, and who felt unready to kick the can
on account of violating what...freedom of speech ban
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Against abominable illegal mandate
with no way to commute death sentence this late
for simple act of voicing opinion against
   existence of heavenly gate
nor hellish underworld despite religious ******
decreeing penance as one articulate prelate
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Spurious pedagogical poetic rant,
ache kin to melting wax growing a candlewick
not the ravings of some half mad lunatic who doth tick
tock carefully plotting recitation that springs quick
from combined teachings of kant did *****
the mind of this jolly old Saint Nick
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Charges ******* up per this average don
purportedly blaspheming judeo-christian paradigm
as an atheist many beliefs outdated and fore gone
upending blind faith equated with hill of beans upon
which dogma erected epitomized by
complex edifices via grime
+ ****** tears and trifle pay for toiling for a bombastic scion
sweat shed by Polish slave labor
usurpation of freedom stripped analogous
to yearning Palestine yearning their own Zion
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Until outspoken persons risked life and limb
to invalidate existence of supreme deity
many still accredit with creating life proper and prim
whether for extra credit or perhaps on a whim
Adam from whose rib cage without anesthesia
but razor sharp knife sprung Eve
with a physique quite pleasing and trim
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
But rather than get lost in the Garden of Eden myth
final seconds countdown of existence tick away
while this keying nonchalant hammering word smith
doth not capitulate, aye deem heart of religion flimsy as pith
without intent to recant statements
   solely acceptable to b’ni brith
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Prompting last words of mine as oye vay
thing in the wind or house of cards vulnerable to blow away!
Brother Jimmy Sep 2017
It begins with a trickle
A small surge of light

And enters the room at the edges


Conversations falter
As they place on the altar

All of their flaws, their hurts, their pledges



Hedging bets, with guilty frets,

The Fire starts to stir

To spark,
     to grow,
     to arc,
          to blur


With tightly closed eyes,
Reaches up toward the skies,

And down around the corner forming,
Curving slightly, glowing, swarming,


Burbling nightly,
Flowing brightly,

A river of fiery lights,


Inverted, on the ceiling,
The intercessors kneeling,

O'er metaphorical fights...


O collective vision
With an unknown meaning

As intuitive as fission
For wizened guide with spiritual leaning

— The End —