"isosceles" poems
You-
you have a lot on your plate
and me-
I am just pushed in next to the others
that weigh you down while you're trying to carry
a thanksgiving meal of responsibility
and at the same time not be crushed by it-
You don't like it when your food touches.
So there I am waiting at the edge of all the chaos
trying not to step over boundaries or cross the line
I am just another thing thrown onto your plate
of responsibilities.
I am a shadow.
A walking disaster.
And I try to avoid all the things
that are so ferociously trying to bring you back down-
but all I do is end up making it worse
making all your **** end up touching
so it becomes a mountain upon your shoulders
that eventually turns into a chip upon it-
you have gone concave-
you became acute when you were once so obtuse
so full of life
so 180 degrees out of everyone else's ******* box
and I closed you in.
Made you realize what you needed to make yourself small
so you could eventually fit the plate just right on your shoulders.
I try to take the weight-
try to pick it all up myself and do something to help you get through
but I just end up touching everything-
You don't like it when your food touches.
You-
you are concave in my convex world
always looking inside yourself-
always hiding away inside of the parts of yourself
I will never see because I'm too busy looking outward
to find something I can do for you.
We are trigonometry-
which is the only type of math I was ever good at in school
but I can't seem to find the right angle anymore
you are too scalene and not enough isosceles
there's no symmetry in the way you look at me-
there's too many different sides to you.
I'd like to think I've seen them all
I'd like to think I've solved what degree
every angle you feed me turns out to be-
but it seems that the angles aren't what I should be finding.
You're just a circle-
I can find your radius
but I don't have enough of you anymore
to find your circumference.
We will always be abstract.
Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 1:16 PM UTC
Scalene Triangle: Here no sides or angles are the same.
Isosceles Triangle: Here two sides and angles are same.
Acute Triangle: Here all three angles are less than 90º.
Obtuse Triangle: Here one angle is greater than 90º.
Equilateral Triangle: Here all sides & angles are the same.
Right Triangle: Here one angle is equal to 90º.
And the most common triangle is...
Love Triangle: Here a lover usually cheats on the other.
I unluckily have gotten stuck in all these 7 triangles.
Never deserved to be cheated but still got cheated.
I can not hate them but still, I so often get hated.
And the mathematical triangles only bothered.
Jan 21, 2017
Jan 21, 2017 at 1:51 AM UTC
I love you baby,
From x approaching a limit of positive to negative infinity.
A range so large and domain so vast,
My love for you will always last.
The way my curve touches your tangent,
And how your secant meets me end to end.
When your line intersects my parabola,
We connect at one point of linear algebra.
You transform my altitude,
When my sinusoidal function allows you too.
You make my average rate of change,
Quicken and heighten in an instantaneous range.
For those days when my angle is in depression,
You tilt me up to an angle of elevation.
In an isosceles triangle,
You will always be my special angle.
The identities we cross,
Changing from tan to sin over cos.
Like sin²x with cos²x we are one,
It’s quite simple ***
Your imaginary roots maybe out of this world,
But my zeros and intercepts will keep it real.
It’s a complicated equation,
To solve for my fascination.
It’s the beginning of our journey,
I hope we never come across an inequality.
I love you endlessly like x approaching positive and negative infinity.
Feb 18, 2013
Feb 18, 2013 at 11:38 PM UTC
not a treatise on isosceles
plain square rooted in geometry
is my theorem stating an argument
of x variable is nothing
without y
+1 equals the cosine
the hypotenuse approaches mathematical infinitesimal
precision logarithmic progression
360 degreeed
determines the variable
by feeling.
Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 12:11 AM UTC
The Dying Romantic Mathematician
“Your trapezoid is vectored to a sphere”
She sighed, “and parallels are polygon.”
“All, all is perpendicular,” he coughed,
“And arcs are so rectangle to sad Pi
Equiangular in the radius
And rhombus has gone Pythagorean.
O canst thou concave the isosceles?”
“Yes!” she coplanared. “Yes!” he gasped in pain,
“Oh, yes, our love is solved for X!"
He died,
Quadratic equations upon his lips
Jan 12, 2017
Jan 12, 2017 at 12:01 PM UTC
pouring myself over green candle magick
my hands are the warm wands
letting the healing eucalyptus fire
seep into my throat chakra
seep into the tulsi i’m brewing
the california poppy herb.
my olive leaf aligned in a
tipped isosceles
and your sound waves are
melting the part of my stone
wall that obscured self awareness.
but now, if just for a
few moments, i am
awake.
in the city it is the witching hour but
in the cosmos it is no-time
infinitytime
time is a river making
golden spiral waves
i am replenishing the circles
like ancient amber blueprints
now fated by the stars to be built.
poem for grimes ~~
Oct 19, 2012
Oct 19, 2012 at 1:19 AM UTC
She walks like a ballet dancer
headed for a fight.
Hands in pockets,
elbows akimbo,
the whole a pair of isosceles triangles
balanced above the rapid
heel/toe heel/toe
rocking grace of her strides.
She knows--
where she goes, who she is
what she wants.
Oct 11, 2016
Oct 11, 2016 at 12:57 AM UTC
Tick
Measuring the angles
hands shaped triangles
acute attention paid
obtuse thoughts laid
when the clock is isosceles
I can leave
Tock
Its only been a second
apathy beckons
anxiety comes in second
JUST BEGIN THE LESSON!
YOU! STOP ASKING QUESTIONS!!
Tick
Mood unchanging
Motion stationary
Minutes deteriorating
Minus thirty
Master wary
Tock
Feb 7, 2013
Feb 7, 2013 at 12:35 AM UTC
they don't know like he does how her bottom teeth overlap at the front like boat sails / or that three moles on her thighs are the perfect example of an isosceles triangle / they don't know that when they sleep their feet fit together like bunch of bananas / or that when she traced circles in his hair it made a direct imprint on his soul / that's why they say she's not worth it / that's why he knows they are wrong.
Apr 14, 2012
Apr 14, 2012 at 5:18 PM UTC
Leave these other guys desensitized.
Sacrificial activism
stop telling these lies
Lyrical capitalism
Deception is precession
Dark future; bright prison
Dark past; bright vision
Stuck inside; minds prism
All equal BUT, what division?
Quest, what?
New edition.
Not what eye envisioned.
Isosceles try angles
Highs lighten; the atrocities
Apostrophes trapping trophies
Kings fallen; to their knees
Ruled by their needs
The heinous comes,
with the mockeries.
Fable creatures; feeble needs.
Dream Chasers see, wicked dreams.
The life of an artist is not all that it seems: see what I mean?
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 1:17 PM UTC
Man.
Woman.
Ghost.
Little wind in their sail.
Boat.
Watercraft.
Impulse.
Limited space on board.
Free from heart. Free from clothes.
Drunk together for a swim.
Errant, disinterested kiss, planted
under the keel.
A sparse ****** isosceles is struck.
Parts are muted and slit-eyed.
Parts are surface tension.
Parts are counterparts.
She pulls away, running below deck
and vigorously brushing her teeth
before weeping.
The razor of night struggles to sleep.
The sharp object thrown overboard.
No one wants to be first or last.
"We're out of words and moons and stars, there's no tenderness in us..." she said. "When did our love become the stab of ultimatum?"
May 6, 2023
May 6, 2023 at 5:11 PM UTC
I wasn't expecting
your B or your C game,
certainly not your J or K
or any other letters
in the alphabet, really,
except that one at the beginning:
looks like a pyramid with a perch,
isosceles triangle with bottom arisen,
traffic cone alerting to awesome ahead,
space shuttle tip to aerospace action,
an upside down V with a chin rest,
upward-pointing pencil tip,
2D teepee with a loft...
or your best
approximation.
Jun 21, 2017
Jun 21, 2017 at 10:05 PM UTC
(picture of feindflug's vierte version compact album sleeve not included.)
one day a compact silver,
might be worth more than a 33 1/3,
as tim wonnacott might say:
today’s youth are not into clutter,
they’re moby minimalists;
but i say: what sort of still life
would anyone paint without the clutter
of things, colours people?
i guess modern art is also anti-clutter:
throw in a black rhombus and
you get the end-scale of cubism,
like a single ****** contortion of
block-bulging triangle: a mixture of
them all: equilateral isosceles and scalene
(but not a pythagorean triangle in sight)
on the faces of les demoiselles d'avignon
(the young ladies of avignon) - ripped
off the page and given a whole new canvas.
Feb 2, 2016
Feb 2, 2016 at 11:46 AM UTC
a curious family of raptor children, a lake of caterpillar carcasses (boulder soup), a grocer for the taliban, gas powered anything, the exposed midsection of a tree, bank robberies or bear maulings in progress, triangles, an irascible bus driver thinking in isosceles, the itinerant story of a mama mammoth, starquakes and extinctions, massive roaches, a neck bath in hot breath, sudden abeyance from behind, the way gravity kills caterpillars and spares us because all angles of gravity make 180 degrees and this is stillness. fear running a straight line from behind us, through us, and in front of us. what i consistently get caught up in, the third point might be my final resting. this is why i ******* hate triangles.
Jul 19, 2020
Jul 19, 2020 at 6:33 PM UTC
and the echo you called out
(we lied to ourselves the first six weeks;)
had the whole town irked;
(spending time in an alley's shadow)
an honest tongue only after you won.
(your sophomoric soul and my reflective streets.)
Dec 3, 2016
Dec 3, 2016 at 9:12 PM UTC
The cemetery trees are dancing in the wind.
Shimmying unapologetically
like a chorus line of boozed up
Burlesque dancers.
Some are tall and regal with pointed crowns,
Isosceles dresses, neat and tidy,
Complete with Pine colored tutus.
Whoosh!
Like entering a room sliding
On your knees.
Whoosh!
Like someone breathing fresh life
Into you.
Mysterious but holy,
Divine yet impermanent.
Whoosh!
Strong yet fragile,
Gliding with the wind
In this game called life.
(and death)
Some have solid legs
And big shiny afros,
Showing everyone how
It's REALLY done.
Bump. Grind.
Confident yet elegant,
Bump Grind.
Full of themselves in the
Best way possible,
Bump! Grind!
Living. Being. Rejoicing.
Others have tassels
dangling from their limbs.
Shimmy! Shake!
Shimmy! Shake!
Teasing me with their
Devastating beauty,
Shimmy! Shimmy! Shake!
Revealing my longing,
My passions,
For what?
I don't really know.
Shimmy! Shake!
Feeding me an elixir
Of fresh sweet hope
To drown freely, once again,
In immortal youth.
They all weave themselves
In the wind.
Acknowledging my existence
Through movement.
Using interpretive dance
As a symbolic conversation.
Happy to see me,
Welcoming me to their land.
Welcoming me home.
Welcoming me to
NOW.
.
Jun 13, 2016
Jun 13, 2016 at 12:07 AM UTC
A lengthy poem has smaller hits
but the author can push through the gist
of inerrant musings of the soul
until he bleeds pus in the sole.
Never meant to cause any disturbance
unless my words bother you like flatulence.
to gain a thought is to make a mind queasy
albeit structuring words to poems is not that easy.
Aug 22, 2016
Aug 22, 2016 at 5:53 AM UTC
I admire you where sunny climes made my final leg more than before our place to wager with isosceles unwritten to really improve our vacation that never forbidden in pleasure and so much tantamount risen upon sands where you may philander though concentric in flight without any interruption to fornicate bliss but in our retirement went thoughtless in our fortunes to become these timeless tracks in ventures with uncontrollable polarity that dance in utmost knowledge evermore.
Jan 10, 2017
Jan 10, 2017 at 10:05 AM UTC
THE KIND OF THINGS POETS THINK/DO
all its little life
the triangle longed to be
a circle
"I want to get around!"
it piped up
in its little Isosceles voice
"It's...it's preposterous!"
screamed his mother Scalenely
"...whoever heard of such a thing!"
"You should be proud of your lines!"
scolded its grandpa
Equilaterally
"A triangle can not be..."
said his Papa in a right angled kind of way
"...anything other than a triangle!"
"I always felt I was a circle
trapped inside
a triangle's body!"
one day a passing poet
eavesdropped in an idle moment
on what the lines were saying
"Why ever not...why
ever not" said the poet
poet chaps tend to think like that
so he erased the brave
little Isosceles
drew him again as a circle
"Wheee!"
laughed the former Isosceles triangle
delighting in its circle-ness
this is the kind of things
poets think of...
. . .poets do.
Feb 9, 2019
Feb 9, 2019 at 3:42 AM UTC
and what is a shape
when everything’s fake
isosceles,
i can’t breathe
one thing having athsma taught me
is the shape of a ribcage
when i saw it on screen
Nov 23, 2024
Nov 23, 2024 at 8:04 PM UTC
Oh the enchanting
Silhouette of the winter bird
appearing
On such January morning
with a tail
Implying the precise degree
of an acute angle
Between two **** branches
You are making an imaginary roof
for your sweet roundish oval head
Fitting it exactly
under a perpendicular space
equal to the height
of the opening
of one missing panel
of my venetian blinds
through which I am peeping right now
safely below the closure points
Of a spectral line
Made by your precision
to manifest
a beauty of an
illusively two dimensionalized
Isosceles Triangle of a
branchy reality
These ever changing orange blue
dashes of an upcoming
Early morning With smoky fumes
are wisely making the volatile
roof for your house
an opposite line
halves to deliver
two adjacent lines
at a perpendicular point
to reserve permanently
its never changing cosine
and still it seems to be
Preserving some of the
fading brittles of stars within
Ah such a home is to be!
where you can peacefully
Fatten and
Rest the tip of your
Belly
to say
This dot of the tangent
Belongs to me
Inhaling
Exhaling
And changing
to a new colored
vitreous roof
of yours
Unmoving
there
Like the buddha
of all silhouettes
Sculpted to
Guard skies only
Oh wise bird
Please
Will
You stay here
And meditate
For me??
I said carelessly
through a slightest
slip of the tongue
and tired body
but before I could
realize and correct
correct it as:
And meditate here
With me??
He instantly turned
his head towards me
And flew
Away
Rightfully :(
Leaving
Me
Helpless
Looking
at a reflection
of my silly longing
Between
The deserted
Space
Of two skinny
Fragile
Branches
Once served
As a melodious
Golden
Cage
Fruiting
Seeds
Of
Reality Dreams
of an Old Tree
Jan 1, 2016
Jan 1, 2016 at 4:28 PM UTC
In which triangle box
we have to search
the relation of ours.
For our break up planning
it shall be scalene triangle box.
For my affairs
relationship
it shall be surely
the isosceles triangle.
For my triangle relationship-
me,my wife and my girlfriend
equilateral triangle box
is needed.
Jan 21, 2019
Jan 21, 2019 at 7:27 AM UTC
Since that door slammed
I been a ram
Running through *****
Like Todd Gurley
Rocking Hurley
And traveling worldly
Yet I still remember your giggle
When Cardi would wiggle
Next to offset like a fiddle
Being played but the riddle
Where Corey Smith came from?
I thought you liked ****** dark as ***
Ok I get it upgrade and get a six S
I’m going to the supreme alphabet like SZA
Success
More like isosceles mess
But I still wish you best
I been in your dms
To see what you say
If I type “duck me?”
And you reply “Lick before you see
Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 10:06 PM UTC
Let love be like affine geometry.
Affine geometry is where mathematical properties are preserved by parallel projection from one plane to another. These planes are our complexities residing in our individualism, together we will survive this mutualism.
Let it be symbiotic and not symbolic.
Let the odds be even, even if you have to zero in on the odds.
Let the triangles of emotions be isosceles ( having 2 sides of equal length), the base will adjust.
Let the circle of emotions be complete, let it end gracefully if it has to. Let it reach its starting point and let it be a full circle.
You be a semi - circle, I will be another. Together we will complete the circle.
From the centre, the axis of life will pass, sometimes the inclination will change, it will bend, life will adjust somehow but we will prevail.
Let the patterns of your life camouflage mine.
Let the eccentricities of your randomness be a little more constant and the variables of human nature will adjust.
Let us both try to solve this equation.
Let us try to prove it to be = and not less than < or >.
Let us both be one equation, equally split in parts and meaning less without being equal.
Let us be rational and not irrational. Let us be reciprocative and not repetitive. Let us be simple but not complex or even simpler.
Let us be Mathematics.
Jul 15, 2020
Jul 15, 2020 at 7:30 AM UTC
THE KIND OF THINGS POETS THINK/DO
all its little life
the triangle longed to be
a circle
"I want to get around!"
it piped up
in its little Isosceles voice
"It's...it's preposterous!"
screamed his mother Scalenely
"...whoever heard of such a thing!"
"You should be proud of your lines!"
scolded its grandpa
Equilaterally
"A triangle can not be..."
said his Papa in a right angled kind of way
"...anything other than a triangle!"
"I always felt I was a circle
trapped inside
a triangle's body!"
one day a passing poet
eavesdropped in an idle moment
on what the lines were saying
"Why ever not...why
ever not" said the poet
poet chaps tend to think like that
so he erased the brave
little Isosceles
drew him again as a circle
"Wheee!"
laughed the former Isosceles triangle
delighting in its circle-ness
this is the kind of things
poets think of
poets do
Feb 9, 2018
Feb 9, 2018 at 1:15 PM UTC