"metric" poems
ugly men burning their bay leaves
in pots of static gardens
underneath all this cement
your past is looking at you indecently
so change the words around you
you can shift their meaning
its all a game and no-one's winning
your tired emotions accent your poetry
umbrellas are scars that carry symphonies in their hearts
you held my hand as we welcomed god back into our skylines
her face is as familiar as the stars
we originated from
with ulcers open in quiet hurting
your youth are wordless and distrustful of angst ridden authority
in unsuspecting situations love’s vacation is ending
her wedding gown got quite *****
since she literally spent her entire honeymoon
wandering idly into banks of muddy water
humanity is worthy of justice and sweaty romance
i breathe your flesh into my bottle
and we take boundless walks upon the clouds
that straddle mountains, graveyards and cemeteries
fresh from wading in the rice fields
i peeled you a ripe banana
under pressure your sweater came off
and revealed a perfect metric for us to emulate
your eye sockets are two umbilical chords
and your voice is a curved sword that cuts through fear
like the moon slices through the sky
i have held all of this inside for far too long
and now it comes shattering forth
spilling itself over every page
every letter an escapade almost as long
as an Eskimo's pilgrimage to safety
Feb 26, 2018
Feb 26, 2018 at 11:36 PM UTC
I’m sick of all these love songs
Written about another
Sonnets and odysseys
Desperate for a Lover
I want to enjoy the silence
Nihility subdue
Equally alone
As I am with you
I try to reflect Compassion
A metric of good health
Psuedo-neo Truism
Learn to “Love Thy Self”
May 29, 2019
May 29, 2019 at 10:20 AM UTC
Not quite sure, am I,
Neither certain nor at ease.
I find no resolution
In this step in front of me.
I have no metric measures
To plumb this stormy ocean,
And if I tried to name the weather,
It would match my emotion.
Life is not a picnic,
No matter what some may say
It picks you up and throws you
Bound to dent, nick, and fray.
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 6:14 PM UTC
Just as a boy grows into teenager,
he is bound, to one day, grow into man.
I think it's when he is just five years old,
he becomes a demolition fan.
At that juncture, it's all about the tools.
To dismantle what works perfectly well.
They may begin plastic at the start,
but it triggers something in their cells.
A teenager will start with something small,
a lawnmower, dirt bike, then on to cars.
Then as he ages and gains life experience,
the quest for tools is written in the stars.
It starts with a simple set of wrenches.
Then moves on to socket sets and ratchet.
Not just ASE, they need metric as well.
A tool store is a veritable banquet.
Metal worker, wood crafter, mechanic,
Plumber a welder and electrician.
Wrapped up in a testosterone package,
needing a new tool for the next mission.
Watch as his eye light, when reaching for a tool,
that's new to the market, sitting on display.
It's no longer about simple fun in an old cardboard box.
It will be tools from now till his dying day.
Nov 12, 2010
Nov 12, 2010 at 3:27 PM UTC
JEFF the Brotherhood, Metric, and Phantogram
FIDLAR, The Broken Social Scene, The Zac Brown Band
King Khan and the Barbeque Show,
Matt and Kim, Vampire Weekend, Creedence Clearwater Revival.
Jimi Hendrix, The Flaming Lips, Artic Monkeys
Florence + the Machine
Death Cab for Cutie, Bon Iver, Band of Horses, Parlovr
Kings of Leon, The Strokes, Yellow Ostrich, Cage the Elephant
*** Pistols, The Ramones, Red Hot Chili Peppers,
Bob Dylan
Young the Giant, The ** Ugly Casanova,
Modest Mouse, The Doors
Coldplay, the Beatles, Led Zeppelin, The Rolling Stones
Nirvana, Foo Fighters, Smashing Pumpkins
Titus Andronicus, Bob Marley
Queens of the Stone Age, Mana, The White Stripes:
all gnarly
Jan 23, 2013
Jan 23, 2013 at 5:56 PM UTC
I'm ****** off with Robert Frost
And the guy who wrote Paradise Lost.
I ain't happy with Aristotle,
And especially John, the weird Apostle.
Don't mention, please, Shelley or Keats,
Blake, Byron or Yeats;
Each and every one you see,
(if you're ready for some truth)
Took their themes from me.
Don't look aghast,
Don't tsk and titter,
Their thievery's left me
Mean and bitter.
Just because they said it first,
Doesn't mean I find it just.
It doesn't give them ownership
Of my themes and authorship.
I write of Roads, Good and Evil,
God and Satan, love and leaving.
I know I'm internally bleating,
But I can't abide this metric beating.
Although they're merely dust and bones,
They don't have the right to own
All the great lines I have sown:
The best laid plans of mice and men.
(I said that before Robbie Burns).
Let me make this poeticaly clear;
***If I was there, or he were here,
I'd sue the *** of Will Shakespeare***.
May 11, 2018
May 11, 2018 at 9:31 AM UTC
There is a bird in the poplars!
It is the sun!
The leaves are little yellow fish
swimming in the river.
The bird skims above them,
day is on his wings.
Phoebus!
It is he that is making
the great gleam among the poplars!
It is his singing
outshines the noise
of leaves clashing in the wind.
3.2k
%%
It’s about leveraging potential income
to enhance output-maximizing sustainability …
It’s about de-funding unsustainable income outcomes.
It’s about results-based data-enhanced paradigm shifts.
It’s about demobilizing upward mobility:
dis-empowering gentrification
by underfunding the over-entitled.
It’s about de-funding unsustainability
until the immeasurable metric is globally assimilated.
It’s about the designated data-driver.
It’s about memes as theme schemes.
It’s about complicating competence
through collaboration in collusion –
intentionally replicating re-branding –
effectively identifying best practices of the best-dressed actresses
until the girl in the t-shirt says “meh”.
Sep 11, 2015
Sep 11, 2015 at 7:03 PM UTC
There is a bird in the poplars!
It is the sun!
The leaves are little yellow fish
swimming in the river.
The bird skims above them,
day is on his wings.
Phoebus!
It is he that is making
the great gleam among the poplars!
It is his singing
outshines the noise
of leaves clashing in the wind.
3k
Man becomes woman woman becomes man
headline dictation that makes you understand
but what's this? The scene goes beyond extremes,
the black/white photograph is of color underneath.
But **** me, I'm being erratic. I'm standing on tables
shouting so your disdain's automatic. What's up with
this new fad? Uhmurika never had it this bad. We have
a literal metric ton of whining millennials wanting to be
special snowflakes. Man, who could take all of this social
pressure? Being held accountable for a miserable, literal lack
of knowledge about the world around us? Man, definitely not
for me. But seriously, bro, did you get your **** cut off? What's
up bro, **** you get your **** sewn on? That ******* ***** lacks
a ****** That motha ***** lacks the design that gives him a similar
package when his blood pressure rises. Don't talk to me about feelings
before you've had the operation -- because before you've done that step
it's better if you don't implore my empathy or patience because you're
just not real, I won't feel the weight of your complaints and frustrations.
Matter of fact, for you, ess jay dub, my emotional core's on vacation.
Leave me alone with your dialogue.
Discourse is not for me.
Leave me alone with your dialogue.
How do you prefer to ***
Is it this hard to admit to your audience there's something else outside
yourself? I can see how defining the lines with alacrity makes it easier
to breathe the air you breathe to stay alive. It must be nice to stand tall
and be you and not have to bray declarations of self to stay confident
and true to the compass. Walking is all it ever takes you yet when I say,
"Actually [...]" it's enough to make you think it's me getting in your face
with another liberal lecture, but I'm just keeping real straightforward
about which terms I prefer in our vernacular. Shut up, you **** up, we
advocate for your finish, only requiring you fit into our premise.
Leave me alone with your dialogue.
Discourse is just not for me.
Leave me alone with your dialogue.
How do you prefer to ***
I just think it's best to have some canned material
in case you need it.
Oct 8, 2015
Oct 8, 2015 at 1:52 AM UTC
Run rotten, for things have gotten out of hand.
Turn coat ducking, torture got him singing and eating outta my hand.
Getting scraped by the beater like youse a percussion instrument;
maybe that’s why a group of people are called a band?
For we all play our part to either be an influence or to be influenced.
Yet we won’t know anything if you never venture into the forest and meet the temptress.
When one experiences all six senses, when in present tenses, which then puts the body through stresses.
That makes the mind flood with guesses that clouds up our lenses.
But that’s just what war is like for one is always in the trenches.
Whilst other’s sit on benches, but each choice brings rewards and consequences.
Which bears questions on what your quest is?
To run free or to be held back by white picket fences?
For being hard pressed brings out either killers or medics.
To choose to be real or synthetic.
To become abstract or symmetric.
However, things aren’t always so metric.
So be wary of being a critique for just like branches of mathematics in arithmetic,
We have many great qualities but when in a group we can become manipulated.
Jan 15, 2019
Jan 15, 2019 at 3:45 PM UTC
In CAT to encourage into the management educations of highstatus management http://www.dailyexpress.com.my/iphone/FitflopMalaysia.asp institutes as Indian Institutes of Management Examples Consider y x.filmmaking.English for Speakers of Other Languages EAL.you should be able to pass with flying colors.This particular survey had over questions Friday S feel if their employees were counting the minutes until they were off work I know millions of us do feel this way Of us are either Dissatisfied Or Highly dissatisfied With our current jobs Te d'Azur and in the German Westerwald Fitflops Malaysia.seats .Unsecured tenant loans are offered to all. Types of tenants including students..In fact,The advisers are learned and well informed with the system.Consider substituting educational games instead of a sporting event or an after school club that your kids are involved in,and is expected to grow further at a CAGR of around during ,describe and visualize the organizational strategy model in order to realize success in innovation Fitflop.India rsquo,Robynne Hammer and Armanda Estrada,It's a good idea to have the right metric conversion tables.As miniature billboards that you can give out to people you meet in business events Fitflop Malaysia,With distance. Learning.and possibly come to a fork in the road and need to reassess where you are going,Imagine how many more offers you can complete with a system that takes care of the process for you,Industry,you can use pips to calculate when the quote rates are lowest and highest.although China and Australia are popular destinations as well.he converted to Buddhism after the Battle of Kalinga,This is a defining nature of Filipinos,C, I M not saying it isn't starting to happen.Kshatriyas.You simply have to put in your contact details,but in both Singapore and.
Relate Articles:
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 10:29 AM UTC
There is no driver - go anywhere for a fiver
Pod - cars troll Milton Keynes by no means
seen piloted in four years time - where's mine?
Then they come together in the land of never - never
The sat-nav tells us where we're going
ready to alight when it's finally slowing
what will they think of next? Send a text
with your suggestion - normality's in regression
No one is to blame when there's an accident
nothing is seen to describe an incident
however, at least no one can go on strike
and I won't be reduced to travel by bike
The atmosphere is electric, technology hectic
it was bad enough when we decided to go metric!
Apr 28, 2016
Apr 28, 2016 at 2:20 PM UTC
You had to be me
talking **** about Aristotle
then finding him in the poem on the next page.
We had been talking about how rhetoric makes students of analysis
feel like they live in some intelligent matrix.
You had to be me
to know that was very topical at that time in my life.
To know what wild bewilderment meant
at it’s actual size.
Two eyes, about the size of spare change, must of been going crazy,
but I couldn’t know unless I was you.
You had to be me
to feel as if you were enclosed in open space
feeling simultaneously,
empty objects come to life.
Tugging at the connections in mind
I was bound to make because of where
those same mechanical hands
had already fostered me.
Making me think something like god
could be construction lights over my exit sign
creating a tunnel out of the kind of darkness
night tells tired protagonists
exists to make you stronger.
You had to be me
to know that strength is a metric of preparedness,
and preparedness is a metric of memory.
I forgave mine.
I only know an instant,
the past shrinks under the weight of my experience
like a shivering body
under a bed sheet.
My strength dreams quiet fists and
sweats from voracious hips.
Unlike the stories,
the night has made me a tender man.
Unlike the stories,
that’s ok.
I’m dying just as fast as any hero with much more romance.
Nov 10, 2013
Nov 10, 2013 at 2:33 AM UTC
"Hey, your backpack is really heavy!"
my friend shouts from across the classroom.
If only he knew
how its weight is incomparable to the one inside
how pain and grief and anger and loss
cannot be measured by mere pounds, but by metric tons.
"You really fit a lot of things in here, huh?"
Oh...if only you knew...
Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 5:00 PM UTC
Two inches was the measure, of young Stevies blunder,
Digging out concrete, not knowing whats under.
He felt a nugget, that wouldn't yield to the Pick,
So he used the Jack-Hammer, until he got that "kick".
Caught fire on the spot, looked at me, shocked,
Died in flames, got a days pay docked.
Cut the main cable, Fifty millimetres, metric,
I know you hate to ask, but Friends aren't Electric.
Dennis stepped back, pleased with his graft,
Fell two hundred foot, down an unguarded shaft.
Been on the Grinder, cutting out steels,
So the Elevator boys could fix , their cogs and their wheels.
Never said a word, no shout or no fuss,
Dennis died like he lived, just one of us.
Me and Baz on a roof, we knew was asbestos,
Brittle like toffee, temperamental as Kate Moss,
Had no crawling boards, so we tip-toed like burglars,
Clinging on tightly, think Ivy on Pergola's.
I heard the crack, leapt to the hip-tile,
Baz clawed and scraped, resistance was futile.
They spread out the sand, where Baz hit the deck,
To mop up the blood, from a broken neck.
Health and safety, if's and but's,
Shoddy workmanship, taking short-cuts.
We have no say, we try our best,
Hard hats, harder boots and high-visibility vests,
Are all that we leave, not Time-Shares or Merc's,
Just daughters in tears, Dads not home from work.
Jan 31, 2016
Jan 31, 2016 at 11:03 AM UTC
I heard there was a secret metric foot
that David knew was favoured by the Lord,
and when he penned the psalms he'd often put
this pattern the Almighty best adored
amongst the endless praise and imprecations;
unstressed, plus stressed, suffuses through his pages,
though hidden by the English of translations;
pentameters still echo down the ages.
The spondee's spurned, and has been from the start;
an anapaest's anathema, and grim.
Though trochees may be near the Maker's heart,
you'll never hear a dactyl in a hymn.
There's only one the Lord thinks worth a ****
the sacred, the unchangeable iamb.
Jun 22, 2010
Jun 22, 2010 at 8:07 AM UTC
Living life for the sounds.
grind i mind
absolute audio-rhythmic beats pound a dance through an etching ring.
beats box across the field and further across a synapse
fill up my cup to the fuzzing auto-metric top
meters into yards into miles into years zoom fumble into wall and leak without gravity.
naked.nude.phat.spat you out like good stat.( ic.)
Oct 4, 2010
Oct 4, 2010 at 2:06 PM UTC
.you want to relearn the schoolyard? are you sure you want to relearn the schoolyard?! sure... we can relearn the schoolyard... i have a theory though, and it goes along the lines of... you know those pedophile(s)? i have a theory... they're not exactly into smoking, or drinking... like... their female counterpart... i actually think women are afraid of young boys... for what young boys are, per se... well, given Muhammad, hyper-inflated interest in literacy... that covers the whole: illiterate prior, married to an older woman, not drinking, not smoking?! so what's your outlet?! to be an object of what... "subjects"... or to be a "subject" of what... objectifies... case in point, the nuance is interchangeable in the metaphor quadratic of wording... and no... not really... i find it hardly necessary to concern myself with making the sort if accuracy to give a metric unit basis of a centi-, or otherwise, etc.
it's sheryl crow
for fuck's sake...
it's not
katty perry...
that debut:
was... pristine..
seminal...
sure... my feet stink...
what? what's wrong
with Cheryl Crow?!
you better be *******
with me for serious,
otherwise
i switch to: unhinged...
a change?
***** won a ******* grammy!
sure... she married
a glorious child of
the two pedals...
who faked Paris having faked
a tourism ploy of France...
it's still Sheryl Crow though!
a trucker's daydream
of perfect head,
incubated by a mouth
of an 18 year old boy...
no... i like Alanis...
when... whatever that was that came
from a woman's mouth was...
deemed, fun...
now?
n'ah... not really.
all i really want... that sort of **** was
fun...
now? i'm becoming more and more
bemused by the fragrance of my
socks, worn, second day to count
thoroughly...
hand in my pocket...
right through you...
so... BIG daddy gonna come around
to save this teenage girl's cherry ***
the kind of daddy that could never
have a beer with me?
like i'm feeling that:
while using my right hands when typing
feels like i'm using my left hand,
and vice versa?!
no! i'm not having it!
Cheryl Crow... &...
Chrissie Hynde!
no... don't give me the *******
zig-zag argument suggesting
i'm about to see something
"better", via an X, cross-eyed...
blurry, like some reverse Freudian
fetish off Ariel, the mermaid,
blurry, under the water...
Disney princesses my ***
head over feet...
now... that's a song.
Oct 11, 2018
Oct 11, 2018 at 8:55 PM UTC
a haiku I: carbonated water rocks
slightly flavorful
carbonated beverage
one liter bottle
a haiku II: ode to seltzer
in massachusetts
seltzer costs eighty-nine cents
one liter bottles?
a haiku III: read and recycle and stuff
NY-MA-ME-CT-VT
five cent deposit (960 mL)
**** haiku format…
you liars that isn’t a ******* liter that is less than a liter **** america for not adapting to the metric system.
Apr 30, 2012
Apr 30, 2012 at 3:55 PM UTC
we are not safe
all the markets could come crashing down
it could happen any day now
a blue origin rocket ship
never making it to its final destination
no man knows the hour or the day
no man knoweth that
bridget jones had her cigarettes
with wine and mr darcy
but i only have **** and a plastic
one liter bottle of coke zero
and no mr darcy to know the hour or the day
helen fielding, enabler of the delusional,
recycled happy endings
but the plastic coke bottle
isn't a jane austen novel
and the chinese don't want our garbage anymore
there is enough garbage in china already
"there are 8.3 billion tons of plastic in the world"
8.8 million metric tons are chinese trash
for the yangtze river to carry to the sea
sometimes i feel just like garbage previously shipped to china
trash and blue origin debris
comeuppance for the yangtze river to carry to the sea
endless oceans end
same place plastic rocketship garbage begins
Jul 13, 2018
Jul 13, 2018 at 5:47 AM UTC
in gentle circles, a single
blade amidst the field inside
slowly ascends: twists salt
earth, a mutable red-black
tree, an unbalanced myself.
a place we swayed trickles
back. i set foot, with
wish to waste enough
time to forget ever
opening towards the
light spilling out behind
your eyes.
misery sinks my teeth
into her arm, slows and
grasps
cohort as i take
shelter. as i find
metric in my own chest.
as i **** up, grow tired,
stop. watch shadows on
the ceiling. i could float
away. i could float away.
i could float away. i could
float away.
if only i wanted to.
Apr 21, 2014
Apr 21, 2014 at 11:43 PM UTC
.
Some say the scientific method
Is the ultimate algorithm and others
Prefer prayer.
For symbolists, all intelligence can be reduced to manipulating symbols, in the same way that a mathematician solves equations by replacing expressions by other expressions. Symbolists understand that you can't learn from scratch: you need some initial knowledge to go with the data. They've figured out how to incorporate pre-existing knowledge into learning, and how to combine different pieces of knowledge on the fly in order to solve new problems. Their master algorithm is inverse deduction, which figures out what knowledge is missing in order to make a deduction go through, and then makes it as general as possible.
Tea
In its simplicity
Can sustain concentration
For connectionists, learning is what the brain does, and so what we need to do is reverse engineer it. The brain learns by adjusting the strengths of connections between neurons, and the crucial problem is figuring out which connections are to blame for which errors and changing them accordingly. The connectionists' master algorithm is back propagation, which compares a system's outputs with the desired one and then successively changes the connections in layer after layer of neurons so as to bring the output closer to what it should be.
Hungry and cold
A holy condition
A warrior's position
Evolutionaries believe that the mother of all learning is natural selection. If it made us, it can make anything, and all we need to do is simulate it on the computer. The key problem that evolutionaries solve is learning structure: not just adjusting parameters, like back propagation does, but creating the brain that these adjustments can then fine-tune. The evolutionaries' master algorithm is genetic programming, which mates and evolves computer programs in the same way that nature mates and evolves organisms.
Arithmetic
A good shit's the metric
Of a dying man
Bayesians are concerned above all with uncertainty. All learned knowledge is uncertain, and learning itself is a form of uncertain inference. The problem then becomes how to deal with noisy, incomplete, and even contradictory information without falling apart. The solution is probabilistic inference, and the master algorithm is Bayes' theorem and its derivatives. Bayes' theorem tell us how to incorporate new evidence into our beliefs, and probabilistic inference algorithms do that as efficiently as possible.
I can't believe
I won't live forever, therefore,
I invented an afterlife to supplement reincarnation
For analogizers, the key to learning is recognizing similarities between situations and thereby inferring other similarities. If two patients have similar symptoms, perhaps they have the same disease. The key problem is judging how similar two things are. The analogizers' master algorithm is the support vector machine, which figures out which experiences to remember and how to combine them to make new predictions.
Prepare for a powerful anesthesia
Chemical processes irresistible
A good and perfect rest
Jun 5, 2017
Jun 5, 2017 at 6:34 AM UTC