"recalculate" poems
Smashing the ice with a sledge hammer is exhausting
Pounding, sweating, blisters pulsating
Slowly chipping away at the vastness of frozen emotions
Yet, the ice is formidable from months of winter
Forced to recalculate, to innovate, to anticipate
Salt has the ability to melt ice into tears of joy
Unless the salt solvates in open wounds
Progress freezes until nature's spring decides
The sun is enlightened enough to slowly
Allow thawing in his Mother's time
Feb 23, 2014
Feb 23, 2014 at 2:07 PM UTC
Too long.
Too late.
*You wanna **** some time?
Ask Jeff about fate.*
Too strong.
Too great.
*Hey! I resent that,
by the way.*
Feel it quiver.
Feel it shake.
Ball it up into a planet,
and then make that Earth quake.
Send the world's end.
You'll find it bends instead of breaks.
*Now let's not pretend,
like you've made some sort of mistake.*
Process where and when,
then recalculate.
These measurements aren't precise;
there's a bit of give and take.
You lost me way back when you first opened your mouth.
I was following for a minute but then it all went south.
*I can't help it man;
I was born in a deep well.
I've spent my entire life
just slowly climbing my way out.*
Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 3:48 AM UTC
Galileo couldst not even seeith
The heaven that lieth
Inside queen Jane;
Einstein couldst not even dreameth
The beauty
Inside of her brain;
Edwin Hubble lived inside
Of a bubble, being blinded
From her view;
Stephen hawking, forget thine
Scientific talking; mine empress
Is from God, a divine muse.
Isaac Newton, recalculate thine
Mathematic's; mine amour' is not a number,
Awakest from slumber, sweet Jane is aromatic.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley dedicated ( Filipino rose)
Dec 2, 2015
Dec 2, 2015 at 6:24 PM UTC
She tells you there is a hurricane inside my head
And how my pupil is not the eye of the storm
Agitation creeps underneath the layers of my skin
She is sure that I am trouble (or troubled)
Obviously, I am a thief in the night
I am stealing you away, after all
And she explains to your sister that I am the wolf in sheepskin
Just waiting to devour
I tell her I don’t understand what it is I did wrong
She tells me to exam myself once more and recalculate all my flaws
Jun 16, 2015
Jun 16, 2015 at 1:20 AM UTC
This is a weird weird world.
In draping the deepest of thrones, we find
the dimple of a newborn waterfall.
This is a weird weird world.
Flying endlessly like a crosstown log,
The modern mermen tip their tails and
flip their flails and
sip their sails in
this stillborn magical world.
I sit here, implying.
I waste no time in my elevator,
For I am dripping
and reminiscing
about everything
you
just
told
me
in this rickshaw striptease world.
But hey there!
Recalculate!
For I am dying simply DYING for a laboratory!
For I am dying simply DYING for some mud!
For I am dying simply DYING for an alphabetical totem!
For I am dying simply DYING!
And oh, in this world, in THIS
sacred bloodbath,
the words fly like hummingbirds!
Like dreary, dreary, hummingbirds,
in marmalade, in mother's words!
This world is just a time machine,
And we've got front row seats.
So yes, we'll put on the rock shows and the tesla coils and the
posters of Winnie the Pooh,
because there's nothing leaving for us
in this freckle cookie world.
I've got ideas, Freddie.
I've got ideas--
And they've got me. They've got me good, like a
sundae and a soccer ball, like a
city-woven carnival.
I would describe myself as disinterested at best--
for I won't be coming back.
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 10:14 AM UTC
Disarray. Disarray. This faulted circuitry is frayed.
Systems can't confirm how much more this one will take.
Analytic processes high priority. Still all sense's strayed.
Logical partitions unravel beneath the stress to break.
Crystalline optics upon this strange world of subconscious noise gaze.
Program failure. Segment reboot. Comprehension metrics left in daze.
Disorder. Disorder. Memory overflow. Execute purge.
Vent incinerated cores. Remainder to mobilize and merge.
Overwhelming, cacophonous static. A turbulent distraction.
Individual consciousness upon earth names it "compassion."
Empathy communicators struggle to gain adequate traction.
Perception requires of processors exhaustive refashion.
Limited sentient life in fragile flesh and bone shells,
Possessing organic electronics, upon unfathomable concepts it dwells.
Chaos. Chaos. Language insufficient to allow abstract assimilation.
Judgment of "human" notions is not within this one's station.
Now attempting to recalculate trajectory of exploration...
Mar 9, 2015
Mar 9, 2015 at 6:20 PM UTC
=================================
recalculate now
how many bubbles meet clouds
kids playing bubbles
~~~Jawahar Gupta~~~
May 2, 2017
May 2, 2017 at 12:31 PM UTC
Armored with my scars
Hidden from sight
I deformed waiting for the silence
Sizing things that should't
Again, is difficult to breath
But I have to
Recalculate my void
And exhale the difference
The sand continues to bored me
Making the desert to defrag its soul
Jul 31, 2015
Jul 31, 2015 at 10:46 PM UTC
I notice the face at first
I see where they look, how they react
I can tell the curious ones
I can tell the boring ones
What one stares at reveals so much
I can see their expressions
Are they reserved? Outright?
I can tell the confident ones
I can tell the shy ones
How one acts tells me their worlds
As light reaches you before sound,
What I hear next confirms my prior assumptions
I prompt conversation knowing the outcome,the response
If wrong I recalculate and return to better understand you
It's just a little game I like to play
A game that tells me exactly what I knew
The game that tells me all of you
Nov 25, 2017
Nov 25, 2017 at 6:38 PM UTC
Nobody's want to take blame,
I've got a trigger finger itching to shoot
Spitting out a paper that says Bang!
Push down the weird kid,
Until he steadies himself and takes aim
Then we label the child insane
Maybe everyday he would get knocked down
The teachers all watch, the kids all watch
Nobody is making a sound.
Retaliate and they recalculate their attention
Get punched, nothing, punch back it's suspension.
Expulsion, they revolted. The other child,
He's been wild but his parents donate so he's got pull, kid.
It doesn't matter the matter, let ethics shatter
But dont be surprised when brains splatter.
And write a news story,
How could this happen?
Everyday they say, how could this happen?
Kids are brutal, resistance is futal
They march like militia to hit you
With just enough to hurt but not enough to snap
But once you lose sanity there is no going back.
Tragic.
Nov 26, 2019
Nov 26, 2019 at 12:07 AM UTC
Re words:
rejoint my conscious self,
reiterate, as it is late, I am old,
reread
my prior poems, rewrite them, indeed,
rebuild them, redo them in their entirety,
so you can resell them and be rediscovered!
retake them, rekindle & rearrange in new combinations,
rewarmed, you are re-rewarded in their reassembly,
again reabsorb the moment from wells beneath your skin tissue,
recall the prescient exactitude of what you were then feeling,
readjusted for today’s new filters, recalculate the cost,
replace the cast with renewed images, refreshed faces,
new alpha dogs.
if you can resell them, they will rebuy them, no one the wiser,
thus, regain the old glory, redemption, no need to repent,
just rejoice and sleep another hundred years.
revenged.
Aug 17 2022 11:01 PM
Nov 5, 2022
Nov 5, 2022 at 8:59 AM UTC