Predictor - services: all types of future events
I have a genius for things that don't happen

I predicted the 1979 economic boom
in the Antarctica - no doubt it didn't happen
I predicted the end of the world
in 1987, and again in 1996
and not to forget 2010
and on various other occasions:
I have a genius for things that don't happen
I foresaw and declared
the skyrocketing rise in US house prices
in 2006 (but the Banks had other plans)

and now, for the record,
I predict with confidence
without batting an eyelid
Obama will be elected again
in 2016 as US President;
and about the same time
they will declare me
the UK's King in waiting

if your life is in a mess
you might want to engage me
to fix it with a prediction or two;
conditions apply,
and fees are upfront
and non-refundable too

Just give me a shout;
*I hear you wherever I am

Warning: the government is reading your poetry!
(Metadata Mining This Site)


If to the world about, you are attentive,
You have imbibed the news that our governmental,
is exercising its parental abusive in-discretionary powers,
Purviewing and purloining our electronic communications,
Causing some to have worrisome palpitations

My life is on the boring side,
So welcome gents to look inside,
The surfed sites, the emails, hardly slimy,
But stay the fk away from my poetry!

Tis obvious from your midnight editing,
That my wordily, working body has been discretely
Simonized,
My data,
Googlized,
My poems,
Scrutinized,
A comma, a colon, a verb, out of place, capsized,
Little threads kept in door jambs, their alteration,
Your snooping presence, a confirming revelation

Will the words Rye Catcher be caught by a filter,
My mocking of Obamacare, be the transmitter,
That becomes a curiosity inflictor, a predictor,
Of your requited, on-this-sited, attentions?

Meta dating women, once a goal, worthy of attaining,
Meta dating mining of poetic alliterations, pertaining
To me and mine, a serious no-no, causing consternation,
Heavy percussing, voters, party swinging in self-flagellation

The information unwittingly provided on HP
Will be used to modulate the time and temperature,
Add certain chemicals in the liquids we drink
Like testosterone in erogenous zones,
Xanax in the air vents in the high schools and colleges,
Hell, they may even put fluoride in the water

Control the atmosphere, fashion styles, population size,
Disclose location to my enemies and my illicit affairs,
(Exposed, leaked to the NY Post's Page Six, to my better halving),
Keep the emotions checked,
Within acceptable parameters,
Especially of those *****, love sick
Senior Citizens, always ready to get down
When poetry-aroused

This narration of condemnation for espying
Will YouTube spread like a new flu virus,
Cause I know where you live and Iam,
Cell phone camera armed and dangerous
On  the Internet, your faces, posted

They riot-for-rights in Cairo and Istanbul,
President Obama, we have on good authority,
Your daughters support our rhetoric, no bullsht,
Watch your step, or on you, we'll sic the IRS,
Cause in the end, they work for *us,
Hold on, who's that knocking at my door?

I wish this was pretend
I wish I didn't believe that I was destined
To die alone.
But mostly I wish I wasn't scared.
See paralyzing fear brought me to this moment
Dragging my limp heart along,
Bit by agonizing bit.
Lifeless. Loveless.
Heart.

I was never as inept at anything
As I was with
Love.
An embarrassment really,
Like an eight-year-old outfielder trying to catch a pop fly,
But instead of catching the ball,
I fumble it,
And now I've been kicking the ball,
Unable to pick it up
For years.

Perhaps it was the embarrassment,
That brought me to this point.
A point of no return.
The muddy banks of a Rubicon.
Waiting for me to choose
My final step,
In it's final battle with me.
Perhaps it was I who
Surrendered to it,
Too long ago.

Maybe there is someone out there
For me,
But they better be wearing
A flashing neon sign.
I'm not interested
In subtleties
Anymore.
So if you are out there,
Dress like a box of vibrant orchids.
So that even my colorblind eyes
Might see it to
Believe.

Blind belief is irrational, and
If the best predictor of future behavior is my past.
Then what should I expect
From myself now.
I've tried not to be convinced of false reality,
Ever since I learned the truth
About Christmas presents
When I was 7.
So, I wish this was pretend.
I wish I didn't believe that I was destined
To die alone.

RINZAI BOX

Had to have a psych eval
at the box factory
a human resources workup
to make sure
I could handle work again
making cardboard condos
for little mammal prisoners
of the pet trade
who live on hot windowsills
until someone comes to love them.

I got too depressed once
when I found tiny bunnies
mewling in a dumpster
their only refuge
yes
a box I had made
you could tell
it said assembled with care
by Kevin
and I missed a month of work
and got written up
for just being sad.

The shrink diagnosed me
a cognitive distorter
a predictor of worst case scenarios
but I disagreed
since I saw the sad bunnies for real
and he puffed up like a blowfish
stammering you’re the patient
I’m the man.

Well I’ve been around the zendo
so I challenged him
smartypants answer this…….
Do bunnies in boxes
have Buddha nature?

Irrational and pointless he said
hmmmmm I said
how do you know
maybe you’re a narcissist
on a psychobabble fugue
echoing in a therapy box.

But I have Buddha nature
and I put that in the boxes I make
and the Buddha bunnies go in the boxes
and you here in your Buddha office
are not separate
just uniquely boxed  
and the label on the bunnies' box says
assembled with care by Buddha.

i am her
predictor of the future
meticulous as a clock,
and as complicated too.
alone with my thoughts
you can faintly hear ticking
as i process what's to come.

affected by the past,
evidence and data shows
my next possible steps.
creator of a five year plan
to leave this town for fog,
ocean,
and small bookstores.
my skin is dry as i waste time
planning on how to save it.

i've researched career options,
tuition, moving, housing costs
for the best way to leave
the best way to live
in unfamiliar streets with unfamiliar faces
and have enough to pay for my coffee


you are him
predictor of the present
carer for the now, the what is
uplifted and bold
and impulsive as hell

i worry for your health
and for your broken seat belt
you worry for mine
and how my heart hurts

but my future couldn't keep you down,
and what we had slipped through my fingers like water
and for two people who could never really be
we tried so ******* hard.

Some people are cynical about college -  it’s rigid, they say - why is it even needed?

Don’t be confused about college - it’s not a place for creativity. You can’t use an essay to wander restlessly through your imagination - you’ll fail - and fail quickly. Universities are places for conscientious minds.

Conscientiousness - the desire to do the needed well and thoroughly - is the best predictor of success in college, in graduate school, in law, in management and anyplace that has structure and rules.

In science, most progress is incremental. Oh sure, there’s the occasional Einstein who changes everything, but that’s rare. The reason science is so powerful is that it allows regular, educated people to advance knowledge one microstep at a time. Imagine a hundred thousand people microstepping and exchanging knowledge and wow, now we’re zooming.

You don’t want a surgeon in their well lit operating theater to have an inspiration and try something new on you. You want them to apply the state-of-the-art procedure diligently and carefully.

Entrepreneurs and artists don’t always do well in college. Those careers require constant “out of the box” thinking. When a person starts a company, there are no rules, it’s necessary for the entrepreneur to make things work on the fly. Artists are almost required to break or create new rules. Conscientiousness certainly plays a part in those fields but it’s not the main predictor of success.

Creativity is necessary - every company needs a small group of people generating new ideas but it’s a high risk, high reward game. Few new ideas pan out - the odds that your idea will be unique, practical, affordable and reach the marketplace at exactly the right time to be successful are astronomically low.

Someone who wants to - who feels they have to be creative - is almost cursed. Yes, it’s ironic that I’m publishing this on a poetry site - but in most cases creative people fail - it’s much better for the average someone to be practical. Practical people are generally more successful in life although the rare creative can be extremely successful (Musk, Jobs, Gates).

Colleges teach how our world works - a simulacrum of what is currently known - in hopes that the student will be able, one day, to ask the next question - the one that will push their particular science ahead that one microstep and move us all into the bright future.

Cloud of smoke rising above
Revelation of joyous tranquility
A stir within the belly stiffening
A grafitti smiled, you lived within

A mouth stitched, heart un-sutured
Constrained by the apathy you bear
Consolidated in tethered pastures
A stare of silence vigorously imbues

A pleasure to meet your selfish leisures
Hear the voices rattling in throned castles
Run encircling the failed soul games
Good luck from one, another, a mother

I was bred as a hybrid alien, a predictor
Take these words and run, jog on
Your palms saturated with energy
Leave the magic and gallop with horses

Bought gloves a couple of weeks ago.
So glad I did,
The predictor of weather forecasting ice cold winter winds, along with bright white snow.
If it falls overnight, it shall lay pure as a ****** till it enters our sight.
One step at a time.
Shining glory, at first impression.
Then, an hour or two, post the impact of shoe.
Will present as mud and slushy muck.
Ice, unkind ice will cause feet to slip.
Hopefully, not on a striking doctors day when old people break their hips.
Doctors have to make their point, their hours are long.
Glad I'm not one!
(c)LIVVI

There was a great nation that wasn't that old.
Born when it broke from tyranny's hold,
The land once proclaimed freedom for all.
Who'd ever guess what would befall?
Here's what happened: a billionaire
With rude behavior and flaxen hair
Bluffed his way through an election
And won because of the law's imperfection.
Many voters could not understand
Why others had buried their heads in the sand.
That this outspoken man was the victor
Shocked many an election predictor.
Some said the win was not on the level
And gave the winner no reason to revel.
Whatever the case, this east coast resident
Became the nation's forty-fifth president.

(Many voters held misinformed views
From eating a steady diet of Fox News,
Gorging on pages of Breitbart sludge,
And wallowing in pools of something called Drudge.
They didn't see the signs that were looming
From a candidate NOT at all unassuming.
When demagoguery's alive and well
And one has a bill of goods to sell,
Some people miss the warning alarm.
They fail to imagine how much harm
A person can do to set back the nation,
And they give that person a standing ovation.
False news reports have power to affect
Election results when facts go unchecked,
And when people blindly accept what they read,
Manipulated "facts" do mislead.)

Before the newly elected official--
Whose reputation had been prejudicial--
Received an official swearing in,
He caused many heads to spin.
Posting on Twitter tweet after tweet--
Some of which were not so discreet--
He, on purpose or maybe not--
Depending on your school of thought--
Made many people and nations wary
With tweets that were more than a little bit scary.
To expand the nuclear capability
And disregard the world's volatility
Would be a plan that smacked of insanity
And also would be a threat to humanity.
The new leader just couldn't refrain
From posting such tweets that sounded insane.

Before taking office the leader selected
A team of advisers who truly projected
A frightening image to people who knew
What kind of damage officials could do.
Some appointees had donated huge
Sums to help elect their stooge.
Few had experience in their position,
But that didn't matter since their mission
Was not so much service, but instead
To **** the agency that they led.
One adviser, who stirred up much fear
And had his mouth in the new leader's ear,
Peddled conspiracy theories that made
Him sound like a madman on a crusade.
The country had never seen such a bunch
Of advisers so clearly out to lunch.

The new leader had a connection
With someone for whom he had great affection:
Vladimir Putin, a tyrant who led
A country called Russia, which once was red.
The reasons the two got so tight
Slowly but surely came to light:
The lifting of sanctions, business ties,
How to control people with lies…
The new leader's kids were also expected
To help their dad, who newly elected,
Had to make important decisions
Despite causing rifts and divisions.
(It's hard for a businessman
With a 90-second attention span
And whose thoughts keep disappearing
To make much sense of what he's hearing.)

The newly-elected president,
Who didn't care about time well spent,
Continued rallies from state to state.
The egomaniac couldn't wait
To stand before a cheering crowd
And share his petty thoughts out loud.
"I have a mandate," he muttered,
And falsehoods colored the words that he uttered.
"I'll make this country great again!"
Instead he made many hate again.
He promised to create millions of jobs;
But that was a ploy by him and his nobs.
The crafty plans of this bait and switcher
Would make the poor poorer and the rich richer.
The people would have a lot more to say
After Inauguration Day.

(To be continued…)

- by Bob B (12-26-16)

everyone is dying
has died
will die
the greatest predictor of the death sentence is ethnicity
we're been increasing the income gap so our children leave home without shoes or umbrellas or lunches or coats
i hate this world so much i
choke on my worthless privilege
reading research pieces playing
playstation to escape my own existence
i am breaking apart like waves of
radio static on unconscious shores
waiting for the end to sweep the earth into
sand glass broken teeth
the sun's plasma core
*******
**** your cult of everything will be alright
my gender studies tutor was ***** because you stood by
and said the world isn't a fair place
and to get over it
*******
*******
*******
i ******* hate you all

you are born in a great house and given to a great man.  your birth is the earliest predictor of forward thinking.  your servants spend their days believing the great man’s thoughts of suicide are contagious.  on your fifth birthday, at the age of ten, you are kidnapped by a woman who says the sack is for show.  who says be loud.  you are taken to a river where you meet your brother who seems happiest when holding his breath.  he tells you the woman is your sister but good luck seeing her again.

luck is for the naked.

Upwardly mobile moving as it radiates unconscious of the energy it creates

Mapping our mind as we come to find again new places from unknown spaces

Almost a tease with which some ease into it's cradle,waiting for the new level it elevates

Circling & cycling feeling the shadow as it begins to grow,pressing pressures of the phases

Some say eye in the sky, but we watch it, not in reverse,masterful with which feelings it delegates

Sensations magnified as it's brightness cast ,many reaching out to sing it's praises

Mirror of the Sun it is the lesser one ,helping with calculations of man,many bonded as soulmates

Rising then falling crescent to full ,waning or waxing ,brightness to blackness always helping to mark our days

Forcing natural habits ,laying patterns marking out situations ,part of our soul is in what it narrates

For the joy of spring brides & rising or falling tides ,many feel as a predictor of weird & quirky ways

Bright beaming leaving many screaming ,slivers mere quivers,again varying for which moods it dictates

Another night with the Moon will be waning soon ,leaving leaving the warm sun and another day to play. R.C.

All the demarcations derived to witness coarse and impolitic belongings of the undivided Gaugamela. Three days before the Falangists empowered Vernarth by the time they were clouded by the Ekadashi. They fasted three days before and gave themselves to the visas of Zeus, graduating fluent movements in their lunar lacridas eleven days before. It is the penultimate step, there were hours left to walk through the woodworm that was shaking the heels of the Phalanges, all the equipment and animals were conferred to the mysticism of essence, and its disputable devotees. Now in the narrow circle of the Gaugamela heritages, Darío came after crossing the Tigris, organizing his troops and his harem. The Macedonians had an army that numbered 7,000 horsemen and 40,000 infantry. Alexander's elite heavy cavalry was the Hetairoi and consisted of the Macedonian nobility, who accompanied Alexander in this battle and were the deciding factor in the faction. Vernarth commanded more than 40 thousand infantrymen, keeping a close relationship with the Hetairoi, with their brotherly arms of divine caste, and the Greek Hoplites who intervened to cover the rear of the phalanx, which Vernarth supported from the most furtive confines of his doctrine, in this motive stained with thousands of Macedonians singing quarrelsome institutional poetry. From the Dodecanese, Kalidona and all the central Greek archipelagos came to render the figure of Vernarth, accompanied by Etréstles de Kalavrita, great hero and defender along with Markos Botsaris (Chapter 6, page 36 Koumeterium Messolonghi / Palibrio USA) in this great epic. Raeder also joined with Petrobus the Blue Pelican, Brisehal de Dash-e-Lut and Vlad Strigoi appearing from the transversal valleys of Transylvania, soon after having arrived from the Reign of Horcondising, boarding his Frigate in Valparaíso, juxtaposing in the nine elements and in Megatons, to be ratified from the start in a new Heavenly Wasteland. They all camped five kilometers from the Bumodos River, on the north ***** where the dark blemishes favored them for a new moon phase, in trends, effusion, and ebb, which was the tremendous influence of energy. The devotees of the clan did not give it any special importance, they only gave hierarchy for single gnosis, because in these Viennese it could improve their devotion, so they are busy in its service. They are waiting to have the conjuncture to further renew their recollection, to support the cards at their right hand with astrological cosmic interpretations of the Ekadashi, which can be explained by the buds of the material world.

The contravened concept towards the reverent is that the Ekadashi will be the day in which the Lord will persevere, achieving the unitary rejoicing dean, disputing incessant strokes for the collective emotional imbalance of the attendees, as a spirit ingredient that is destined in his spree, and must try to give Vernarth more start in his parapsychological regression. But we must also conceive that we are in a subsistence song of the hypotenuse, for which we must not think that this Zeus extremely needs our third. He is completely self-sufficient and tied to his transcendental world of vilorta, but not leaving us alone with the vague flashes of collectivity from him.

The Hellesponic Sibyl supports the cross, the last emblem of the Passion represented in the chain. As appropriate, on its straight and immediate folio representing the Crucifixion of Christ on Golgotha. The spaces were self-selected by consigning themselves in the stalls that were brought together in musical techniques of work that inspired the Sibyl of Hellespont, she approached with the articles and the belongings of the altarpiece of herself, decorating them with passions that were represented in the eleven lines up days before first-degree alcohol was sprinkled on their heads, to leave them in the open, and to posterity, the goddess of darkness Nix came pouring macerated and sour petals on all of them to inhume them in the blasphemies of the god Erebo, in the deep fire, devoid of all marginal lethargy to redeem them from chaos. On a crushed and infamous earthly sea that will be the surface of Gaugamela transiting the catacombs, with foul floods and elusive phlegm, fleeing from the light insectaries of Ultramundis from the god Tartarus. Nix runs alarmingly on the murky tile of her, picturing herself as a winged woman clad in a star-covered black robe. She will lead a hulk pulled by two steeds duly accompanied by her twin sons Hypnos and Thanatos, here with them trembling running everywhere, to attest to the regrets of the Hoplite Falangists, after being suddenly invaded by the mythological forces of the Achaemenides. Through condensed pulses and other non-designated ones, she will be represented on various types and on supports of xylographic monumentality, on ceramics, and even on the immaterial heritage of Áullos Kósmos. From the basilisks they will point to Betelgeuse, spending themselves in the Armas Christi to anticipate the fountains and the Iaspis Parables, staging the Sibyllae Prophetae, predicting the paving of Iaspis with precious stones, to fragment in the elevation and in the tidal wave emitted by the Sibyl of Hellespont, rising on the level of 133, in the Calvary of Golgotha, in the east skull of Abimelech and Jezavel, from the kraníon symbolizing the transit in places of executions from a warned kraníon.

The site of Golgotha is also uncertain. All that is known is that it was outside the city, beyond the second wall. It must have been a hill, as it could be seen from a distance and was near a road, homologous to the initial Gethsemane. Juan amplifies that a new grave was nearby, in a garden. The tágmati translated as "order". It indicated the ranks in the Roman army. The Old Testament and tribulation saints receive their glorified bodies near the return of Christ to the world. Being the Greek root Tagma, of "putting in order" from the head, thoracic and abdominal, in the tagmatization and differentiation of regions of the body or tagmas, formed by series of metamers or similar segments, differentiated from the rest. The Ultramundis of the god Tartarus was conceptualized here, and corresponds to heteronomous metamerization and is opposed to that of homonymous metamerization, in which all metamers or bilateral symmetry in all appendages are equivalent. They are those centurions who drilled the rib of the Mashiach on Golgotha, with muscular symmetry from the head, thorax, and abdomen of the Tágmati, putting an order from the Pilum thrown, granting them the Christo Salvatore Predictor, but in the opinion of professing the same symptoms of his passion for abdominal, thoracic and head tagma in its crown of thorns.

The nun's dream -teaching contraceptives-
a nightmare to me
The killing drum of biology
Terrible, unavoidable, troubling

(You'll never go through this
so what do you keep spilling ****?
You don't know the pain, the need
this nightmare you'll never live)

I can't believe - this is my life
A shaking fear, and a predictor in my bag
Everything spins, dizzy stomach

Me - a mother
Me - crying, smothered
by the rhythm my body dictates

This is your punishment - you should have never went there
kissed his lips and let him use his hands
You should have never played the sweetest dirtiest game
You should have never said "Yes" to him
You know - this is what happens to bad girls
I say, whispering, to myself
This is the latest doom

And now the sky is clear - with this proof passed
I went through this - another poem, another invisible scar
And now I smile - it was nothing, nothing at all
And now it all seems over -I'm back

I don't think y'all know
Shut your mouth

seems maybe if it is written down

for tomorrow

in the diary

it gets done today

finalised with finesse tomorrow

like

the stick fence and composting

and other varied tasks

pottering in and out

did you see that river stone there

adding accent

do you see the chicken wire behind the ivy covered some time ago

do you find that predictor adds words not required and meanings irrelevant

even the thorns came useful

Loving you is like a central tendency,
Because you mean a lot to me,
You are always in the middle of my heart
You appear most in my mind.

I may fail to reject the null hypothesis,
I still believe we are correlated
There is enough evidence to show
That my love for you is 99% true.

We may vary significantly
Because we perceive things differently
I am very confident enough
That my love will not change, it will only last.

Even if the P-value suggests that you might reject me
I will still love you every day
I will prove to you that I am your great predictor
That in every positive change in me, there is a positive change in you.


-FJ. Pacaldo, 2019

There has been no worse an indicator of marital bliss than
an abundance of money
and yet no greater a predictor of
marital discord than the lack of it

tied to the mast
all sails set

past behaviour
the predictor

the rudder
and compass

the choosing
the choice.