"ratios" poems
‘…. and now, here’s Rick with the latest Market news…’
‘Val, trading was very brisk today, with a number of influences
that set the market off to some defined trends and statements.
Of course, the Human Virtue Exchange always seems to rely
on the volatility that resides ‘between the ears’ as noted
by the veteran brokers on the floor, but the sharp ranges
of prices offered versus profit taking has set the bar
very high in the relative value of Basic Human Virtue.
Now to the numbers: Courage [WHOME], Patience [PP],
and former market darling Perseverance [GULP],
all varied widely today on news from Washington that
their value was doomed to fall in the light of the expected growth
of Persistence [IAM] which history has shown to be a marked drag
on just about everything. Outside of the self –efficacy bazaar,
old standbys Ambition [HVY], Curiosity [WDF], Industry [HAHA] and Temperance [BFD],
continued their free fall into uncharted areas of cost and return.
Some analysts feel these virtues could be a real bargain in the future
despite their history of poor performance. Could a comeback not seen
since collapse of the Protestant Hypocrisy Era be in the works? We’ll see as the lack of movement in the Kindness-Generosity-Forgiveness-Compassion Index [FARAWAY]
leads many to believe that the end of Politeness [UPYRS],
Un-pretentiousness [ME-ME], Self Control [NWAY] and Sportsmanship [LONGONE], may lead to a complete miss-understanding between casual market players and devotees to the cause. The ratios cannot lie.
But without a doubt, today’s big winner was Self Respect [YUP]
which jumped and amazing 40 points before active trading ceased at the bell. So people feel real good about themselves for reasons
that cannot be explained by the Ego File Indicator alone; this causes this reporter to predict that Naval Gazing [MOM] remains a ‘Hot to Trot’ stock fund
and the Vanity market is always a good bet.
Now, here’s Carl with
today’s Human Emotion Exchange report……’
Mar 1, 2013
Mar 1, 2013 at 12:19 PM UTC
I stare into the half length,
double wide vanity that sits
poised in my two bathroom home.
It's reflection of me, naked and
unrefined, are often and unmistakingly
disappointing. But, no longer.
I will embrace my scars of battle. I
will soak in the curves and crevices
of the weight I carry with me.
Counting carbs and chasing carrots
with salad day after day were never
really even my style.
Health. Happiness. Heart. Those
are what matter. Cliche, yes. But true:
A number on a scale is nothing.
I clutch my sides and embrace the
mountains that ridge and peak
laterally on my canvas.
I embrace my full bust and curvy
thighs with earnest demeanor. I
am an image of me. Nearly 20.
No longer will I hold my head low
at a passing glance. I refuse to hide
in clothes too large to disguise my shape.
Beauty is who you are. It's not what
you look like according to the golden
ratios or whatever the hell "they" say.
Jul 16, 2014
Jul 16, 2014 at 12:44 AM UTC
one plus one equals two
just like me and you
but why'd you have to divide your heart
couldn't you give it to me as a whole part?
I used to love math
But now it gives me problems
Literal ones
Couldn't it ask for simpler answers?
I asked why I had to find your x
but you didn't answer y
oh these complicated equations
these numerous fractions
oh yes, fractions and ratios
you gave me a fraction of your heart
yes, just a half and kept the other
just so you could give it to someone else
oh why did math come into my life
WHAT THE HECK WILL I USE IT FOR?
I don't need to use my empty brain
THAT'S WHY THEY MAKE CALCULATORS
I didn't sign up for this
I won't be a mathematician anyway
Oh wait, I lost the point
IT WAS YOU WHO THREW ME AWAY
now I'll just go back to being half of everything I used to be
Sep 13, 2015
Sep 13, 2015 at 4:43 AM UTC
Alexander of Macedonia this time
won’t U-turn from the might Gangaridai.
At the bubbling edge in the Indian subcontinent,
one would dare, taking his last plunge,
believing it here the proverbial Well of Life!
Yet Al Khwarizmi will discover the algebra,
drawing from ‘nothing,’ purely untouchable:
The Zero from the Indian pole.
Not a digit, not a number on its own, yet it’s all.
Every number jumps up in the zero loophole!
Then the whole number bows down into decimals,
escalating the hunts of the 1.618 golden ratios.
Plough through at your own pace
for the uncharted water, for ab-e-hayath.
Sip in a drop of elixir in this secured zone.
Sylhet is in the core, is written in stone.
What do these mean? I too wonder
down the line, I was intrigued by the Arab
and Indian tectonic plates’ slow dance.
Both rolled out, hugging each other
Then the Makkan soil lying at the heart of earth
gets exposed, with Sylhet’s soil it pairs up!
360 Sufi dynamos, mathematically a perfect circle,
find the match giving a perfect heads up
laid on the nine yard show the whole box of wax,
simply inking the vivo jump on the storylines.
What’s under the tectonic-rug at the bottom of the earth?
Shush softly, whisper—the heavens might hear it out!
Hold on to the least bit, it could be all one wants.
The earth, the ocean, all started with a drop of water!
Let alone any well, which way did this original matter,
the first, primeval drop of water stream down
Has this alleyway been exposed here, or in Paradise?
Then how can we say we don't have a secret for Paradise?
Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 11:26 AM UTC
Music is my Deity
and so benevolent is it!
A mystical Tapestry
woven upon Silence and across Time,
what about that is not Divine?
Music doesn't divide, it unites.
It attracts expressive minds, creative minds, empathic minds, logical minds.
It creates an abstract temporal psychosocial middle-ground;
You don't have to be a virtuoso
to drum along or dance or vocalize.
You don't have to be a virtuoso
for practice to reap it's rewards.
We speak with Music:
Language is a Musical thing;
it employs Rhythm and Pitch and works through Time.
Music is a Linguistic thing;
it communicates things that otherwise cannot be said
while also having room for Language itself.
Music is no singular aspect;
Music is not defined by medium,
nor is it defined by orchestration.
Music is wholly Abstract,
relating only back to itself.
Music is defined by context;
Music is a matter of perspective.
Footsteps are music, in 2/4 time.
Heartbeats are music, in 3/4 time; this defines "swing" feel.
A Clock is music, in 1/1 time at 60 beats per minute.
A year is music, in 365.25/1 time at 1 beat per day.
The duration of the Moon's orbital period and Day are a Unison; 1:1.
The four Galilean moons of Jupiter orbit with the resonance of Octaves; 2:1 ratios of wavelength.
The ratio of the lengths of Mercury's Year to it's Day is nearly a Perfect Fifth; 3:2.
Music is implicit.
Music is mystical.
Music is a Metaphor manifest,
for the nature of the Universe;
even the very word "Universe"
means "The One Song".
Music is truly intrinsic;
I am a Shaman of Music.
It is an Honor.
Jun 30, 2013
Jun 30, 2013 at 2:03 PM UTC
Creativity
&
Madness
I've walked the razor's edge.
Playing it straight
In public places
No one knew
The thoughts and voices
Running around my head.
Fortune dictated
I never made it
To the walking dead.
Secret sharers
Come to me
At the beginning
And at the end
Of their plunge
Into that madness
Falling off the ledge.
No sleep came to them
Electronic insomnia
Ran them.
Cars became creatures
Screaming at them
As real as the table
Between us.
Imagination run wild
A chariot
The horses sweating
And running full speed
The reins either
Flapping untamed
Or
Imagination chained
Directed into these lines.
Creativity
&
Madness
At the razor's edge.
Disorganization
Voices screaming
When the wind is silent.
Miming up against the walls
No one can see them at all.
And in space as they said
"No one can hear you scream"
And space surrounds me.
Creativity
&
Madness
Pros & cons
Cost benefit ratios
*** makes it worse
The roots ungrounded
Crystal gears it up
Alcohol numbs the
Mind with depression's
Blanket of dread.
While ****** leaves
You strung out and lead.
The drugs they give you
Leaves you walking dead
But calm and able
To
Play it straight in public places
Far from the
Razor's edge
Of creativity & madness.
What's a poor boy to do?
Wind up sleeping in the park?
Cold wet encampment bound
Lost in the landscape
Of madness
Sights
Shadows,
A mind full
Of old echoes
Blinding.
How do we walk
This line?
A few fall over
A few are left behind.
Some never know what they could find
And some find that it all resides
At the intersection
At the razor's edge...
Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 1:05 PM UTC
the body falls soft
curves collapsing on the edge of
bedspread tangled in cliched prison
escape ropes
tied loose like old tendon,
we are all but used.
I feel the force of Fibonacci
spiraling between ribs
and pelvis, golden ratios
divining skin,
1 to 1.616
Jul 5, 2013
Jul 5, 2013 at 8:09 PM UTC
i am the melting sun beams dripping from the children's running sneaker...creeping slow into the ocean of nose hairs sparkling with iodine and rosemary...father farther to the cosmic goop of motherhood and magic mounds of twirling gases...rancid beef so evergreen as if the princess is licking loudly on the frogs back...green of colour my third eye melts her fantasy into rainbows of toxic firearms...leaking valuable oil all over her wedding dress...come into the third eye and hammer away the truths of 1000 years...to fowrad this message is to embrace all that is the third eye...magic and numbers spiral towards the center edge of my reason...pure and criticized like goblins with tiny feet...reach up into your third eye and pull yourself into it with all your power and all your might....stay with it for just one night and reach for the spare tires in the third eyes trunk...don't forget to fill it with melting bubbles of fantastic hot sweet golden ratios where infinity smell like dust bunnies and dust bunnies smell like crystal salts and volcanic ash...spew forth third eye and share the vision of ecstasy and freedom...never cover the third eye with hate and regret only wash it with happiness and fullness...let the third eye rule your heart and towers will melt into concrete and paper will fill the sky...only the can the third eye truly be the way to see your path....spiral softly third eye and forever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and forever see with the third eye....
Jan 17, 2010
Jan 17, 2010 at 8:01 AM UTC
You fall too hard and you fall too fast
Don't you know you had what lasts?
And I say had
Because it's past tense
I'm sorry that "til death"
Did you part after only a quarter of a century
Makes a man think
It's ok to be scared of loneliness
It's ok to be afraid there's no more shared happiness
It's just a neurosis though
You know that right?
It's ok to feel like you're swimming in the ocean of your bed
And the coast guard is
Not on the way
To save you
Being single after taking vows
Is more than unfortunate
Worse than divorcing
She died
And I think you should be selfish
Just for a while, dad
Because you fall too far
And you fall too fast
Don't you know meteors burn themselves up
Doing just that?
Don't you remember
Camping out in the laundry room
Explaining falling objects and gravity
(which I still don't believe by the way)
Pointing at the sky out the window
Teaching your 6 year old
About the iron:nickel ratios?
Saying "Don't wake mom."
And dad, moons will glide in and out of orbit
Around you
And the vacuum of space
Will at times be filled with your loneliness
And longing for the past
And you'll keep falling fast
Burning up in the atmosphere
Leaving little craters here
And there
From the impact you have
On her
And her
And her
And your highschool girlfriend
And your daughters
And that woman in your yoga class
It's ok
You fall too hard
And you fall too fast
Don't you know
Only superman could survive an impact like that?
Jun 21, 2013
Jun 21, 2013 at 10:00 PM UTC
The witch can easily hide herself.
She is expert at being hideous.
She is adept at camouflage.
She is the most beautiful.
Her face ratios are perfect.
Her ****** ratios are so too.
Her feet are turned backwards.
Her energy is stored in her braid.
The long hair is her great strength.
Amazingly it is also her sole weakness.
Jul 21, 2013
Jul 21, 2013 at 2:24 PM UTC
For every good thing I’ve ever done
I must have done at least
Twelve bad things
I hope God
Or
Whoever
Doesn’t think in ratios
But in intentions
Mar 4, 2011
Mar 4, 2011 at 6:37 PM UTC
I wake up at 7 AM, its raining, go figure. I catch the bus by Cohen’s Food Co., soaked, on the bus now, and the windows are down. Lucky me. I brought my big Boss head set because last night the convenient apple iPod ear buds got soaked too. I guess it was karma. But at least these have good bass. Transit bus, not yet to arrive to the station, we travel over a vi doc, the distant fogged *** view? A St Louis skyline. Busy people in and out of the station. Babies. Druggies. Fuglies. The woman in front of me has no teeth. She kept doing a ritual gum technique with her lips. Smacking them inward as if her teeth were actually there. **** I ride for awhile through the town. The plainest Jane land around, at least this Monday morning it was. My feet can’t touch the bus floor when I sit in the back. I like this, it reminds me of trips to California when I was small. The rental car was boring though once we got off the plane, Dad was asleep through the whole desert interstate. And my birthday, and your birthday. I’m at school. This junior college of filth. Free coffee though, I take a high advantage. MATH DRILL. Math. Simplifying the trickiest equations. Ratios and angles. Lateral products and dividing something half way through solving the problem. ***** math. 30 minute break. Smoking section. Nice little ash trays they supply, it would be a total turn off to walk far for a smoke in the wind. More coffee, I hate the taste, but need the caffeine. Second class starts. Writing. I like writing, but the projector smart board was broken, so we covered grammar from a text. We read something about complete sentences in the early 1920’s. In Europe. They would try as little as possible to use add verbs. Re-read this.
Jun 6, 2010
Jun 6, 2010 at 4:29 PM UTC
Alabama 3:34 am-
I don't know much of time
I'm not familiar with ratios or denominators
Angles make me uneasy
And I can't deal with numbers
That my son can
On this I swear,
time for me
Is measured in segments of the roles I play
If quantified at all
Because I drive and drive
And walk and walk
And soar
Come join me
Mar 14, 2010
Mar 14, 2010 at 4:56 PM UTC
In the sheets of drizzle below the autumn cloud
eyes beaming with the glow of love
wave at the receding figure
to the farthest visibility.
The man leashed to the cubicle with the screen
would think of those faces
when the day is at its broadest invitation
and light like the luminous ether
fills every dark pocket of the land
listening to the rhyme of the clock
from his abyss of ratios and rates
while the vagabond clouds come together
and break apart in the game of revealing blue
painting new faces and waving hands
on the landscape of the gate
up to the farthest turn
in the sheets of drizzle
beneath the autumn clouds.
Nov 14, 2017
Nov 14, 2017 at 8:40 AM UTC
when i cordoned you off
with Gorilla Tape and lilac vine
once i was done attaching encrypted files
of pearls upon that sultry salt of your inner-thighs
once i’d borrowed bonds
off my favorite banker’s portfolio
so i could waste myself in their earned interest
ratios
of blood bourne by centuries of
hapless gathering oppression
so i could use them in mosaics of swollen sand
that i could lay
like sea-glass shards under your
ebbing feet as useless parchments
i swallowed you in all your swollen spasms of fragile oblivion
until that bottom of this tongue lept amidst surfacing juices
obliterating and obligating all that ever decayed amidst obelisks
your whispers
(hatched from your
breathy endorphins)
shook me into
mine own
desperate shudders
astride our gathering humidity
and i gathered in
your needle-nosed
plier
eyes
-rust encrusted grey
incisors-
wrought from melted andirons
mixed with slug
trodden
soils
of hinterlands i was
never
to penetrate
as if i ever slammed
you
with yore spinning flails
into night’s emerging chasm
of charcoal sprinkled
with inner-orange peels
and their attempts toward
all that is illuminating, wistful, brief, and
precious—
i am your son, i am birthed from your sal i vations. i am twisting, still, amidst these rudiments of brine...
Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 2:20 AM UTC
A certain peace envelops
The second hour of the night,
A little mellow, a little electric,
The ratios positioned just right
I'm sure this chai I'm dreamily sipping on,
Would not seem as delectable in the day
As it is right now, with its caffeine
Making all my senses with abandon, sway
That's the thing about this hour, I say,
Its still tranquility, its silence and calm
is merely superficial; if you're up this time,
you're part of a storm
A simmering storm, with a quiet surface,
and a whirlpool of life concealed within,
A psychedelic fiesta booming with
A myriad of emotions beneath the brim
Indeed, Silence turns Audible,
Colors turn Tangible,
Misery turns Defeatable,
Loneliness turns Affable
Music begins to make all the more sense,
When freed from the cacophony of the day,
In fact, the night will tune a sweeter melody
If you'll put those headphones away
And listen! Listen to the solitude,
The slow tick-tock of the clock,
The distant horn of a car somewhere,
The occasional howl of a street dog,
The rustle of leaves as they dream in their slumber,
The whisper of the wind as it strolls outside,
The sound of Papa's snoring the sole interruption,
To the fluid rhythm of the night.
A certain contenment surrounds me tonight,
As I bid goodbye to the second hour revelry,
Where my sentiments turned to words,
And words turned into my long departed but duly returned,
Poetry
Jan 14, 2016
Jan 14, 2016 at 4:43 PM UTC
Our preconceived notions
can’t seem to be left at the door
as we all seem to meet each other
for the first time, hand shake in check
psychiatrist inspecting psychologist
who to take, what to take, can we partake
in this guessing game of assumptions;
all because we are deeply insecure.
Yes, perhaps the writer even the reader
can take heed even implore the words
from abstracts, to ideas set forth to type
font, confront abound the reflective recollections,
as I form sentences and you figure the syntax.
Seeping through the membranes that we have solely
constructed from the libations and gluttony from opposite
heads to tails; phobic forming channels flipping
ratios of eyes on you, and yourself so to be social
concentrates every weekend, only to dissipate.
What has been lacking is simple genuine
conversation of good morning, how are you ?
exchanging information so to know
one another - that is being social.
The microcosms we place ourselves into are nothing more
than are fathom facades we trace as perimeters so to measure
how much we can let people into our already egocentric lives.
Don’t contest that statement, to some level we all have absolved
in our own thoughts everyday, that we lose sight perhaps
what we see with our eyes should be understood logically
with conscious from the back of our minds.
Tip this scale for which we wait, taking to memory
that we heal as we initiate, and take ourselves
into each others weight, so we can carry on.
Nov 10, 2010
Nov 10, 2010 at 9:09 AM UTC
Someday soon , we will fly,
High in the clouds , above the sky,
Soaring weightless, no ratios or angles,
Graceful floating, as if with angels.
Slowly drifting above the earth,
Departing the place we were given birth,
Some day soon we will find a place,
Where happiness reigns and hate displaced.
There won't be race or color,
Just the race of human brothers,
Sisters, mothers , fathers, children,
No religion, nothing to burden,
No such thing as a hellish infernal,
Just a place where happiness , reigns eternal.
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 8:34 PM UTC
i've seen the commentary...
but let's do the ratios...
youtubers sometimes tend to boast
about their subscribes,
notably dr. steve turley,
100K (100,000)
and styxhexenhammer666
30K (30,000)...
yes, i know that a chris isaack
track is, a tad bit too much
reminiscent of Abba...
point being? my turn...
so...
the ratio... i have 138
followers... but my post popular
"poem" ranks at around
4,700 views...
an average dr. steve turley video
ranks in at 20,000,
and with subscribers numbering
100,000...
whole styxhexenhammer666,
30,000 subscribers, but
at average counts of views at hovering
past the 1,000 mark...
now the ratios...
please let me be wrong, please
let me be wrong...
0.5 for dr. steve turley
lopsided ratios:
100,000 / 20,000....
styxhexenhammer666
comes in at 30...
30,000 / 1,000...
me?
i come in at... ha ha!
5,700 / 138
34.057...
i'm not boasting...
but i hate to see decent people boast
about their prescription rates,
but then...
0.029...
but within the confines of
giving an answer back...
you get the picture...
their viewers plummet...
the ratios do not add up...
i'd boast, sure as hell i'd boast...
but... i sorta don't feel like it...
i never saw the bonus side of boasting
when it came to numbers...
more subscribers,
than views?
big ******* problem...
so... proud, concerning, what?!
oh... wait...
i just figured this out
differently...
0.033 (styxhexenhammer666)
and 0.2 (dr. steve turley)...
oh wait... dr. steve turley: circa 74,000
subscribers...
and the average viewership
of a video circa 21,000?
3.52....
0.02837....
ola! village people!
counter ratios...
views : subscribers
counter to subscribers : views
(in ratio)....
that age old relativism
of "success"...
give me a minute, i need to work
on the schematic rubric...
views : subscribers | subscribers : views
(a) ~5700 ÷ 138 (a) 138 ÷ ~5700
= 41.30 = 0.024
(b) ~1000 ÷ ~30,000 (b) ~30,000 ÷ ~1000
= 0.033 = 300
(c) ~21,000 ÷ ~70,000 (c) ~70,000 ÷ ~21,000
= 0.284 = 3.52
(a) denoting me,
(b) denoting sythexenhammer666
(c) denoting dr. steve turley
so wait, give me a minute...
since we're all so happy
******* a boasting match...
i have... less subscribers...
but more views...
than people who have more,
subscribers... but less views?
i know i'm fiddling with the numbers...
but to use but one instance...
i have more views than
i have subscribers...
while these youtube vloggers have
more subscribers than
they have views...
interesting...
but if everyone's going to be playing
the ******* numbers game...
i thought:
might as well bring by bucket and *****
into this sand-pit,
and see if i can play along
with these kids...
citing my attempt at a massive *****
you never know:
it could work!
Oct 13, 2018
Oct 13, 2018 at 8:44 PM UTC
I.
This bridge spans two worlds... No, two realities, though where gone?!
Mirrors the mythological beauty of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon
Endorsing the clout and stoicism of Zeus's Statue on Mount Olympus
Parallels the grieving love that built the Mausoleum of Halicarnassus
Evokes the envy of the world as did the Great Library of Alexandria
Rescues forlorn souls, unrivaled since the Lighthouse of Alexandria
Embodies Giza's Pyramid's genius and their incorporated golden ratios
Shorter lived and more vulnerable than the Colossus of Rhodes
Most impressive, though, is that this bridge was only built by two
Abandoned the 8th wonder of the ancient world... Dare who?
II.
Horatius Cocles, sole guardian of its last half, despairs at the disrepair.
Mind forever enveloped and enthralled by shadow's legendary glare!
Horatius Cocles, despondent, knowing that glory days are long lost,
but more so bearing knowledge that Venus will never once more cross!
Horatius Cocles, tortured by this bridge, yet impotent to torch it ablaze.
Disabled evermore by visceral love, yet would do it all the same.
May 24, 2018
May 24, 2018 at 6:46 PM UTC
A point
sequence
perchance a pattern
things constantly intertwined
perfect circle
golden ratios
where there are 2's there are 3's
but in the end...mystics
Our lady & father as named in scripture
sequential gatherings
we join as community worshipers
there are patterns as I walk
numbers as we talk
non-believers gather on us
Herald, we walk as words from your mouth into eternal
shall we seek forth that which repeats onto itself, changing again and again into familiarity?
Or has it been found already?
Perhaps before the eye could see it or the mind conceive it.
We take hope upon the chance
That this is but the process into something, we have finished in ages past
For what would it be to know the answer, without the how, without the meaning?
We may know the how, given time,
however the meaning hasn't been seen yet & the purpose has faded as other things become clear.
Must there always be this strict balance?
Perhaps the comprehension of such balance is a sect, missing among a unitary spiral of knowledge.
Always this path is uncertain, I navigate it as much as can be done, but this vessel is fickle & prone to deranged bouts of change.
As I think, breathe, see, hear, vibrate, pulse, fluctuate with life...there is nothing and I revel in it.
Jul 7, 2010
Jul 7, 2010 at 5:40 PM UTC
Look
Feel
Sequence
Ratios
Forming the spiral
Beauty found well within nature
Conscious and unconscious patterns forming everywhere
Support and resistance levels formed around fear and greed of people in markets
Feb 8, 2019
Feb 8, 2019 at 4:02 PM UTC