"multiplication" poems
I just want to ask one question
Is the human race obeying the mathematical rule called BODMAS?
Just a refresher...
Brackets, Orders, Division, Multiplication, Addition and Subtraction
We have created different brackets
where we enclose people like casket
He's black, she's white, they are rich,
those are poor, she's educated, he's religious, he's fat, she's slim... Brackets
People are treated differently
Based on the class that we've put them in
Some are raised to power like exponents
Others are trapped in like square roots...Orders
The segregation has only intensified our division
I don't fit in here, I belong over there
My group is stronger, those ones are losers... Division
Disunity and absence of love has caused
A multiplication of our problems
Threats, deportation, persecution
We don't like them, we'll bomb them
War, insurgency, terrorism, hate speech... Just problems Multiplication
Every second, our population is experiencing several additions
Our population keeps growing while
Our natural resources are being exploited
And depleting at a rate faster than our population growth
Our resources are experiencing severe subtractions
I just want to ask one more time...
Aren't we obeying BODMAS?
Nov 21, 2018
Nov 21, 2018 at 8:01 PM UTC
a knight in shining armor is a man who has never had his metal truly tested.
I start off with a quote, that adds spice to the fish in the boat, who say that their knights in shining armor have fought, hard enough for the ladies who've put in thought, that the man that comes to sweep them of they feet is fit with an armor so glamorous that it shines all the time.
but then maybe they mean it shines with greatness, power and courage,,
shines bright enough for acceptance in her hand in marriage.
but no.
we all know a girl's best friend is a diamond,and according to girls these days nothing shines brighter.
a man with a dented armor is a man who has fought and fought well to survive the opponents in combat from depriving his life from him.
so, this man with a dented armor has been through hard Times,
he gained and lost friends l,had his heart broken again and again he might not look too good but his heart shines,
his love is sublime, for he has learned to love without hesitation,
to love with values and skips the division to think about the multiplication,
you can't get to one without the other but you know what I mean.
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 9:43 AM UTC
my body turns
against my self
in cathode shadow
and a bone deep
multiplication of cells
May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 11:16 AM UTC
Derive the joy, magic and warmth of addition by connecting your soul to another's, yet remain independent as singular souls.
Meet the interference of envious, bitter and resentful subtraction which gives the process of separation from the souls you have connected to.
Both opposing forces with obstinate motivations coordinate unconsciously for the creation of an entrance-exit cycle in human interaction.
The pinnacle of human interaction is interceded by multiplication who compounds the congregation of the independent souls into a cohesive unit called groups and eventually society and nation.
Nevertheless met by the malevolent, destructive energy of division which ruthlessly breaks apart the products nurtured by multiplication, smashing them with propaganda, discrimination, and segregation.
O' how I exclaim that division is the truly nefarious power.
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 8:22 AM UTC
She leaves a note in the morning after, signed with her name because he whispered the name of another woman while he was inside her.
She leaves a note written in her bright red lipstick because he said it made her lips look like cherries, and her mother had taught her that the fastest road to a man’s heart is a good meal.
She leaves the note in her lipstick because he didn’t compliment the dress she wore on her fragile body, the shoes she wore on her dainty feet, or the heart she wore on her sleeves;
He complimented the lipstick she wore as a note written on his mirror; an instrument of multiplication, she had to face it all, and face it twice. Twice the bed frame, twice the sheets, twice his sleeping body, and twice her face.
What she likes the most about the note is covering a part of the mirror, and a mirror is never a friend.
He takes a leap of faith and jumps headstrong into a relationship that he knows will drown him.
He was named a champion in the 2015 Olympiad for swimming;
he lost his golden medal but the whiplash on his heart when he delved into the waters will always remind him how salty it tasted.
He sinks into an abyss of intensity that he cannot dry out no matter how long he sits near the lonely candle next to Madonna’s portrait.
He soaks in the glistening sunlight; water was never his friend.
She brushes her hair every evening and every evening she reminds herself that she needs to brush off her family’s rejection.
He trains everyday and every day he reminds himself that his heart is also a muscle.
They do it in the dark because it’s easy to love another and scary to see yourself.
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 3:53 PM UTC
Rain falls on the windscreen
in shades of grey brown and fogged-up blue,
car become boat in the rain-clogged road
floating away like in a Monet,
into the evening mess.
Frayed nerves, rules break, as dangers lurk.
The wiper slow tells its tale own.
Irrelevant discourse, irreverent songs,
the FM trend for DJ fame.
And we have two 'rivers' in our city,
swelling in refuse, bolstered by the rain;
And we have two beaches in our city,
soak in the surf, if you can ignore the rubble;
And we have many parks in our city
where litter garlands our heroes daily;
The last patch of green, cramped between
rising heights all around, accursed of
dump and construction junk,
steals a dying look at the moon late.
A walk in the woods, by the mist, by late evening.
A stroll, warm, through a field covered in snow.
Nice paintings on my concrete wall.
I'm told, the money plant is good for one's health.
Trees, a luxury for our wealth.
These are all good developments.
Hyper malls round the corner.
Home prices, soaring to Kepler.
Please pour in more investment into my country.
Guaranteed, riches grow in multiplication.
The markets are all about manipulation.
Sep 12, 2013
Sep 12, 2013 at 3:47 PM UTC
Just an equation,
A Simple theorem.
A little misbehaviour,
Outside the decorum.
.
I add and provide,
Hoping we never divide.
At the geometry, I stare
Just a mindfuck of a square.
.
A slight cross multiplication,
To bond upon this attraction.
To help develop the postulates.
Of your mere subtraction.
.
I integrate & derive,
It's the formulae I'm deprived
Of. The questions always lead to me and you.
I always end up in my four sided cube.
- Aks, in math classes.
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 4:38 AM UTC
The inverse of error
A metaphorical math
Because I rhyme so sick in season
You can call men Sylvia Plath
You can call me Sylvia Plath
Spilling verses accidental
Spilling blood like pen and paper
Give me rock paper, scissors—construction
Philosophy of metaphors—the reciprocal of destruction
Creation in deviation
Multiplication in meditation and mesmerizing memorization
Mad in the head, but I’m a mat-hatter for love
'A zombie by neuroses
A zombie by drugs
But on those pharmaceutical
Cause cut **** is for thugs
(3% probability
Is in the margin of error
How many times have we ******
And would you even care?
Oh, despair. The plague of a woman-
Slick wit like slick ****
And you can call these rhymes grimy
Because I’m cleaning your eyes with it.)
Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 8:43 AM UTC
Multiplication, Tabled
by Michael R. Burch
for the Religious Right
“Be fruitful and multiply”—
great advice, for a fruitfly!
But for women and men,
simple Simons, say, “WHEN!”
Keywords/Tags: Christianity, religion, procreation, multiplication, fruitful, multiply, overpopulation, abortion, birth, control, contraceptives, ****** pill, creationists, global, warming, climate, change, pope, Vatican
Mar 24, 2020
Mar 24, 2020 at 10:38 PM UTC
While working on the formula for his next destination.
Dr Who made an error with straight forward multiplication
His assistant broke his train of thought with some ill timed ‘do-gooding’
Though she knew he couldn’t concentrate while eating Christmas pudding
When the tardis landed with a routine solid “thump”
He opened the door in a tee shirt, and took a backwards jump
“This doesn’t look like China.” he mused, looking out the door
And went to get some warmer clothes so he could go and explore
He finally re-emerged wrapped in layers of bedding
“Where is the basic farming? Why are those people sledding?”
“I wanted to study parrots and all I see is penguins.
I aimed for Riceland, not Iceland” He turned and went back in.
Jan 12, 2011
Jan 12, 2011 at 1:35 PM UTC
how can we know where lovers go
or when they take the notion
to stop the flow and try to slow
the rhythm of the ocean.
we cannot seek to reach this peak
or lift above that sea,
we are too weak to mug the meak
of their sincerity.
we are alone, together and free.
and here's some stream of thought (that just so happens to rhyme, kinda)...
loopy arousal.
lofty appraisals.
disabled and taken for granted.
in the eyes of the dead,
instead of the usual red,
we decided on green
to dress the scene.
the sound man listened.
the light man leered.
the chef was cooked.
i'm hooked.
heaved on to me like voyeurism
and sought like publishers.
distasteful? yes.
useful. yes.
knowledgeable? sometimes.
lurid trysts and poltergeists
expounding.
multiplication escapes me.
pen and paper **** me.
Sep 18, 2012
Sep 18, 2012 at 10:14 PM UTC
On this day,
Twenty-eight years ago,
I realized that love is not divided...
Not halved between.
A father's love for his children...
Is a multiplication,
An expansion.
How do I explain?
Meanings of life change;
Additions and subtractions aside,
Love multiplies...matures:
Exult or suffer, it endures
Even the agony of division.
Mainly now, love suffers,
But always it endures.
Mar 25, 2012
Mar 25, 2012 at 8:30 AM UTC
That's what he told me
years ago,
when the hills first
started to sprout
in my head,
beneath the sandcastles,
and under built fairy huts,
when I knew the world was round,
but thought it felt like
a marble in my palm.
He told me,
while I wrote a poem about
a plant,
and then one about dirt,
because I thought
all the growing things were beautiful.
He told me,
after my multiplication
worksheet came back,
bearing 100%
and I couldn't have been
any more proud.
He told me,
after he showed me how to tie shoes
without bunny ears.
And I believed him.
The hills grew into mountains
I promised to move.
But the fairies left the hut when
I left that house.
And the world was round,
but it looked awful flat.
The marble grew heavy, and
got too **** big to hold.
My poems changed,
I'd **** the plant, and the dirt
was only *****
I thought sad was starting to
Look beautiful.
Math got hard, and I
always wanted new shoes.
Nothing grandpa said
made sense anymore
and his dementia-soaked brain
went too crazy for my company.
Still the mountains in my head grew,
but it was starting to be too late;
they were growing around me,
and I couldn't move myself,
let alone the mountains.
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 8:10 PM UTC
Do not allow
yourself to be
a product
of your generation
but rather
let your generation
be
a product
of you
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 8:57 PM UTC
Let me join you in that roller coaster
Unlimited ride, we can even go faster
Because i like the feeling when you're around
In my love song you're the beating sound.
I'll do anything just stay for a while.
I can't imagine seeing you from an inch or a mile
Cause you. Yes, yes you
You make my heart smile.
But what's with the sudden change
So peculiar
I don't understand this is strange
I'm not familiar
With everything you've become
All i wanted was to add you and make a sum
A summation of happy memories and dreams
Not a multiplication of sadness and screams
I'll do anything just stay for a while.
I can't imagine seeing you from an inch or a mile
Cause you. Yes, yes you
You make my heart smile.
I'am puzzled and cold
Because i can't crack the code
Then I was surprised and I realized
I was the key to decode
Making my way to your home
Running, then I heard my ring tone
Smiling, your name was in my phone.
Then i saw you across the street
You're so pretty, you swept my feet.
Time is so perfect, we are meant to be
You started sprinting towards me.
And i said.
"I was finding the right time to say this and I'm sorry.."
I hugged her tight, she whispered
"Don't you worry..."
She said.
"Because I'll stay with you forever
I won't go an inch or a mile NEVER!
and yes you, you also make me smile.."
I LOVE YOU.. <3
Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 10:14 PM UTC
See this is where I clear my mental
Cuz it's essential
Clean all the junk out of your knowledgeable box
Like fresh clean socks bleach with Clorox
I need to be clean
So I sit and look at Gods creation
As I fathom that it could save a nation
All hail thee Christ Jesus
Many people say they love him to pieces but never sit and marvel and His creation
Conquering king to civilization
Causing many allegations
No persuasion to the right side
So I'll abide in my many complex as I marvel at Gods creation
Tribe altercation to seek multiplication
So I try to change in the right clothes
Not naked to the fact He can still see me
Soul complete me
All I want is to bask in Gods creation
Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 9:31 PM UTC
the humiliation
attempting multiplication
is a discrimination
filling all emotions with frustration
trying to send help of communication
to a genius
showing no blood relation
in a habitation where Ax and Bx showing a result of Cx
introducing a collaboration
with letters sends a illustration
to the mind causing hallucination
just a pigment of imagination
slight vibration
desperately needing a detoxification
of education
to wrap your thoughts around this generation
seeking the need for popularization
but the mind is in a mental restriction
start a petition
to conquer the satan of calculation
but so far no documentation
of the closed corporation
of the mad minded mathematician
so you're living in devastation
suffering while you work at a gas station
from no graduation
or thoughtful congratulations
all because you forgot the capitalization
for a math symbol
on a test
because of the lack of specification
Make a reservation
for the realization
that math
does not
always make
sense.
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 7:14 PM UTC
Should your poem contain a lot of formulas?
Should you know how to multiply, divide, subtract and add?
Should you know the derivative of this and the derivative of that?
Should you memorize the multiplication table from one to a thousand?
Will your words sound jargon?
Will your rhyming seems out of tune?
Will your metaphor be unseen like a blue moon?
Will your piece land on the trash can very soon?
Should you discuss the ratio of your words and love?
Should you round off the message your poem have?
Should you pinpoint what is lesser than or above?
Should you define the poem’s slope and its aftermath?
Will that number cruncher be able to read between the lines?
Will the verses relate up until the genius’ heart’s vines?
Will the logical and emotional hemisphere be able to bind?
Will the sonnet be able to convey it’s meaning through its sign?
If you are a poet and you love a mathematician
Those things are probably running on your mind
The difference in forte, will it ban
A blossoming attraction between two different kinds
Sum it all up, all your feelings inside
Write it all down, like how you calculate in a scratch
Don’t forget any, like a whole number without a dot
Double check it, you wouldn’t want misunderstanding right?
Don’t be irrational, like some numbers are
Don’t measure and compare, like graphs’ bar
Be precise as possible, but you don’t have to hit the bull’s eye
Still do some cliffhanging, and let the person analyze
They say opposites do attract
Everyone differs so why worry about those questions above?
Just express what you feel, write what you want
I’m sorry I’m a poet; I wanted this piece to be long enough
Jul 15, 2013
Jul 15, 2013 at 10:40 PM UTC
Betting on plays
And whether teams could pull it through;
Factoring rates given to the risks
Versus stats, records, and rankings,
Of losses, successes, et cetera.
Whether physical or digital,
These playful monetary mediums
Like domestic feline & bengal tiger.
Like dog as like cat,
It's a different reaction to them
And connection with them
Having grown up around them.
These paper jaguars & plush lions,
So much for the fear of adversity
When you're trying to crunch everything.
If you're always in the middle
Of working through or thinking about something,
Punching an equation,
Then how can anyone hope
To knock you off kilter?
It's just another component-
Another addition & subtraction,
Division & multiplication,
To calculate & sum.
You've gotta be in it to win it,
And you're always just one bet away
From winning it big.
Making it good
Sometimes takes all it can take,
And even then you might not
Break even.
I sense disturbance,
See some malign figure,
In your line of reason.
Yet, through our conversations,
No appeal can be made to logic.
The calculations offer a grime visage.
Play with your heart, play with your gut,
As your head will steer you wrong.
If you're thinking about it,
You're thinking too much.
Just lay it on the line,
Bet it all,
But don't bet too much.
Listen, it'll be fine.
Tomorrow we can
Recoup your loss.
The contradictions are lost,
The irony was over
And you took the under.
The spread accomplished
Chose the given
And you were taking.
If something flew
You were beneath it.
Feb 10, 2025
Feb 10, 2025 at 1:04 PM UTC
I spent my fifth grade year in school in my fourth new district
writing timed multiplication tests while blood fell from my nose
in hot fat drops splattering my papers,
a rusty brown organic counterpoint
to the red ink of my teacher’s note
“Emily- see me after class”
and my stomach dropped faster than the blood
or the bobble-headed Care Bear that my Social Studies teacher
threw out the window during class
because she once mentioned that she hated Care Bears
and so we covered her room with them.
I spent my fifth grade year at home in my parent’s bed
with blankets tacked over the windows and towels stuffed
into the cracks under the doors
while my parents tiptoed through the kitchen
and I dug my chewed off nails into my scalp trying
to claw the rot and smoldering ash out of my head
and flinched at every creaking floor board.
It was an old house.
The mourning doves called sycophantic dirges every dawn
(and noon, and dusk),
and I grinned when the dog chased them off to hide
with the one-eyed tom in the barn.
I tell you these things not to make you feel sorry for me,
but because I am confused how I can feel sorry for me
and yet miss that time so much.
In the end, I am left only with the firm conviction
that timed tests are every child’s bane,
and mourning doves are just country pigeons.
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 4:20 PM UTC
Clear the table
the build up is far from stable
cold cowardice melts into hot need
it's time to tend the seed
lust denied
tends to multiply
and if it doesn't turn into ******
then more hunger becomes a must
but hunger fuels flame
and fire is never for the tame
I say find the same
for a choice between fire and ice
does not need to be asked twice
always
choose
the flame
Oct 27, 2016
Oct 27, 2016 at 6:00 AM UTC
They stood proudly above the tall horizon.
Strong gusts of wind were second nature to them.
But when targeted, they didn’t stand a chance.
Cries for help erupted from their windows
And smoke billowed gray and thick
Higher and higher into the stratosphere.
While death cascades one atop another,
Life continues in my fourth grade classroom.
I tried to understand what there was the learn
Beyond multiplication tables
And long division – from the previous year
When suddenly the class erupted into
Stark silence
As authority notified the uninformed youth.
“Go home,” they said.
And home I did go
In fear that the smoke would follow me,
Sinking its claws into my skin.
That fear was not for naught.
It follows me to this day.
A decade of dark, deadly destruction
Carelessly cutting at the very veins that keep me alive.
May 4, 2012
May 4, 2012 at 4:50 PM UTC
They were once meaningless
I write and in one, two and three
The transgression made its way to you
They became lyrics,
My hymn towards you.
Eradicating you made me at ease
Til lines intersect
There was no division
The strategy became a multiplication
Where the factors were lost as digits
There’re no emotions at all.
We were destined
To know the factors
To solve the x and y
Then, sections were subdivided.
I was in y, you were in x
As if we’re in supplementary angles
Why’re we apart?
Can two junctions be aligned?
The triangle was secluded
With the main angle,
The base, the height
The hypothenuse uploaded the main formula.
Never will I resolve this
For formula was never been taught
As if I’m doing such trials and errors
Til I get tired
And be drowned by head and heartaches.
The compass would never shape you
The ellipse would not offer you mass
There were no vectors at all,
Now, its just the dot
The single one which may point me
Towards the possible focus of such lines.
(2/23/14 @xirlleelang)
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 12:36 AM UTC