"verify" poems
The landlord rented his space.
The landlord became suspicious.
He received complaints from other tenants,
Within a couple of weeks about loud music
And laughter coming from her room.
Banned from having friends in their home,
People would arrive in a van nightly during the summer.
The details of which emerged in the trial of insurance businessman,
Who was accused of helping her,
Without their knowledge.
She accused the abuse after a plea.
His mercy,
Her punishment.
‘The past is still very much a reality’ she whimpered.
Forced to watch for five months,
The wolf spoke as she faced the hearing
Without a translator.
They are forbidden to speak.
For her first 23 years, she was tortured.
Anti-social behaviour is having more than two people in his head,
Playing music so loud,
That it can be heard,
Outside of him.
The only person to feel the same resigned.
The landlord asked the hound to verify the affair.
He handed two leather-bound volumes containing a map of the marks.
It was on that day,
The landlord took the decision to leave seriously.
Once known,
He made the claim and gave no hint as to the tenant’s identity.
Up for a chance to win, We wish you safe travels.
Feb 24, 2013
Feb 24, 2013 at 6:27 AM UTC
Broad filling the doorway he stood,
A statement. Defining intent, and with absolute restraint. To her it was all. To him she believed nothing. The candle lit only at one end. Her end. Her imagination.
He walked to her and as with all Mondays placed the mail on her desk and asked for a signature. Her heart skipped a beat. "IT WAS GONE!" The wedding ring gone. She held herself together as though her very life dependent upon it. She said thank you. She would wait till Monday to verify her intelligence. Before she staked her claim.
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 8:47 PM UTC
Taste is my desire
what i eat doesnt matter
what i can offer to eat doesnt concern
i may be charge for millions but will taste it
i dont care who cant eat as long as i eat
no money can satify my hunger
no chef can verify my taste for food
i shall eat anything you serve
i dont care of the taste not the smell
as my stomach grumble i shall eat it
im always hungry always being stuffed
nor i can be full of what i eat
no one is hungrier but me
eat and drink i what i live
food is my first love
and wealth i shall spend for it
i am gluttony the undying hunger
i shall eat to satisfy but never full
i shall have everything edible
for my stomach needs more
Jan 10, 2015
Jan 10, 2015 at 1:36 AM UTC
Hildegard of Bingen
the most musical abbess
of the year 1097 a.d.
met with Jung the unconscious detective
and Ginsberg the howling poet
for lattes at some Starbucks
in a vibrating city
on a shimmering afternoon.
Angelic minuets keep flowing,
effervescing through my chakras
like tonal champagne . . .
the glowing femme declared.
Beams of ethereal light infuse me,
tsumanis of energy tempt me
to dance right out of my habit.
Ignoring the possibility
of seeing a naked nun drink coffee in public,
Alan mused behind his hornrims . . .
I get what you mean
like I have felt the same perfusion of joy
watching cans of peas and ayahuasca
dance with talking bananas
at the A&P; Market near my pad in Brooklyn,
can you dig it?
Still suffering from his Freudian hangover,
Carl reframed them both . . .
Any conclusions or convictions
drawn from such experiences
may not self-verify because
your introspective identifications
attempt in vain
to concretize the amorphicity
of decentralized psychic sensations
which reach conscious awareness
only at the expense of extension.
What did he just say?
Hildegard asked Alan.
I have absolutely no idea,
the portly poet answered
as he doodled an intricate mandala
on his hemp napkin.
Jan 1, 2012
Jan 1, 2012 at 12:21 AM UTC
I've begun to question the very purpose of my existence.
Which is really just a fancy way of saying ''I've been reading too much Albert Camus.''
The only way to enjoy one's life is to accept the Absurd.
To accept that life has no meaning except for the meaning I give it.
No purpose other than the purpose I wish it to have.
Belief in God is absurd because there is no way to verify his existence.
Belief in the absence of God is absurd because there is no way to verify it.
Trying to believe anything spiritually is absurd because spirits are not science and anything that is not science cannot be verified and is therefore absurd.
Life is absurd.
The purpose of life is reproduction, survival.
Or so it has been verified by science.
Spiritually though, there is no purpose because everything is a purpose.
Nov 25, 2012
Nov 25, 2012 at 1:37 AM UTC
Plant a Woman
"When a woman plants a tree, she plants herself."
John Muir
See the photo, on a stone walkway in a park on an island, somewhere in New York State
*Years after first encountered,
Returned this day, purposely,
To trod this bricked-path
Where a solitary brick, these special words carved.
This brick, a patient lady-poem in waiting,
Required a search-and-locate mission,
To verify my memorized eyesight,
Freed to release these words,
Years in the forming, from whence first espied.*
**When a woman plants a tree, she plants herself.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**
Much less than obvious,
Import of said statement,
Complex, notes, scents, questions...
Perhaps this is the thus, the why,
Why this po-effort, somnolent, yet disquieted,
In recesses, drew lines on the wall, with one line
Slashed across, for every month,
It gestated, unborn, but not offering to die,
It did not come effortlessly.
I am seed of man,
Planted within woman.
I am a tree of iLife ,
My seed planted within
You, iReader.
I am as much woman as man,
Perhaps more so...
Wrote you, told you,
I Speak Woman^
Perhaps more so...
Even better than man.
No shame, I rise with the dawn,
To bake the bread,
Alongside her, her secrets, she has, need learning,
Her bread, raisins, cinnamon and secreted inside,
Wisdom of loving kindness.
She scatters seeds with recklessness,
Who can know where wheat will be needed,
Someday, her children exiled?
Forest investor, tree planter,
Futures she sees, where others see but wood,
I follow her lead, for I cannot but fail to
Prosper, when on paths tread,
Formed, excavated by her footfalls.
I give her rubies,
I give her gold,
When I ask where it be,
She laughs and says adorning the tongues
Of the hungry and in need.
So I give her more.
Indeed, I plant my seed inside her daily,
Let her plant trees as she desires,
Her forest, the refuge of my old age,
So she plants trees, as I
Plant a Woman.
Thanks be, that her trees,
Come from her *****
Now I understand Mr.Muir.
Sep 2, 2013
Sep 2, 2013 at 3:02 PM UTC
*blistering day shuns a walk
all flock to recycled air-con of malls
few venture out* . . .
1.
walk along a mountain path
dislike snakes
wear heavy ankle-boots
rough route
craggy stones
grow tired
2.
head on stone
fall into drowsy slumber
baking brains gathering aches
3.
huge mountain appears
espy a cut opening along the side
a welcoming slit
enter slowly
step by step
seems to brook entry to no more
wonder what calls inside
4.
distant drumming
not afraid
joy fills supreme
reducing epicenter
gentle hands touch and pull in
negating every fear
melting away bleak thoughts
sink deeper into the earth
down . . . down . . . down
into cavities unknown
follow secret canal away from here
5.
sweetest eyes greet and kiss
fall into soft furrows
carried along canal of warmth
close the eyes
fall in heart with glowing ambience
subtle humming felt beneath the soles
sweetest honey-lake
deeper . . . deeper . . . deeper
sublime cocoon - always dreamt of
what supreme bliss
falls in lap of bearer
6.
all cares washed away
known memories seem to float off
as a dinghy to a waterfall
lost over that lip
free fall
free fall
conscience takes a bobbing nap
on waves which lull the senses
into drifting buoy
as conscious dips
utter serenity
spirit moves freely
totally unencumbered
/ /
[awareness - jolted - sudden - open
as corporeal fetters take hold once more
teeter into rude awakening
rub eyes to verify
faculties catapulting in greedy succession
/ /
find a hessian bag on rock
half-afraid to check inside
seemingly empty
lift the edge and peer inside
/ /
the most silent rainbow of inner dreams
long-forgotten wishes flow
into being
as rains come down]
/ /
*no more fear.. again
no more tension
no answering to
no deprivation
no derision
two pure doves hover
quite high
a pale-blue
buoy ~
the only signs of hope
blistering judgment dissolves
beautiful buoy floating
a way.... to marve cut of pure crystal
away...
on an endless ocean of calm*
S T, 20 August 2013
Aug 20, 2013
Aug 20, 2013 at 11:54 AM UTC
AOK: Mathematics
By Rohan Baishya
Now listen up y'all imma give y'all a lecture
About how my intuition led to some dope conjectures.
But to verify these knowledge claims I'll need a proof,
No need to worry though, my logic's up through the roof.
I'll steal yo girl with my geometric paradigms.
Not to mention my bank balance is on a sharp incline.
Imma use derivatives to find the slope of that *****
Euclid used geometry, what a big loony.
Now Pythagoras used deduction to find the sides of triangles,
Now I can use induction to find the curves of this fine-angle.
So listen up homie, you're a bore with your empiricism;
I can explain everything with this dank rationalism.
Now math ain't 'bout using memory to cram some equations,
It's all about getting that intense sensation
of using reason to season your supported argument
but sometimes to calculate my Lambo's rent.
But now imma be busy with my new calculator via Fed-ex
So listen up girls, no *** until I solve for x
In conclusion, math is the secret to success
If you believe in the numbers you'll be relieving your stress.
Word
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 12:27 PM UTC
Vacancy. Vacancy. Vacancy. Vacancy. Vacancy. Vacancy. Vacancy. Vacancy. Vacancy. Vacancy.
Vacancy. Vacancy. Vacancy. Vacancy. Vacancy. Vacancy. Vacancy. Vacancy. Vacancy.
Vagrancy. Vagrancy. Vagrancy. Vagrancy. Vagrancy. Vagrancy. Vagrancy. Vagrancy.
Vagrancy. Vagrancy. Vagrancy. Vagrancy. Vagrancy. Vagrancy. Vagrancy. Vagrancy.
Aimlessly. Aimlessly. Aimlessly. Aimlessly. Aimlessly. Aimlessly. Aimlessly. Aimlessly. Aimlessly. Aimlessly. Aimlessly. Aimlessly. Aimlessly. Aimlessly. Aimlessly.
Rambling rambling
trying to
say….
…what.
What is…what is…this world…but a tiny little thing.
A speechless infant. A cowslip in spring.
A girl. Who I am…? A…
Thing. A thing. Imagine! If I can…
When everything is vast. No words, no way.
No truth, no words. No way.
No truth, no words. No way.
No truth, no words. No way.
To say…
I’m a girl wandering in April. I’m a girl wandering in April. I’m a girl wandering in April. I am a girl wandering in April.
I’m a woman wandering in April. I’m a woman wandering in April.
I’m 70 and I’m wandering in April. I’m 70.
Who…a cowslip
An IV drip.
Me, wandering with no words.
Then, brain
working down
the whole machine
no, just the mouth
to verbalize and verify
and analyze and clarify
and organize and ratify
and formalize and justify
the vacancy
of vibrations
in my vox box.
complacency
of situations
until one talks.
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 4:01 PM UTC
Its a phantom in my conscience
that haunts my evenings often
but is gone when the sun arises
where the tortures remain constant
I am not what you see
these were not my dreams
a cartoon buffoon for you
to point and laugh with glee
This isnt why I did this
I didnt know the expense
I put my heart for all to see
to verify my existence
Trying to exorcise my insides
by the tears that I cry
but it doesnt wash away
the pain within my mind
When most of these people
only see me for my alter ego
they want the struggling of my soul searching
to always remain feeble
So sorry Im untrusting
all I wanted was a friend
yet again when I have nothing
theyre all gone with the wind
Hollow another bottle
heres another *****
be our joker of sorrow
expose your madness some more
Youre here for our amusement
you have a gift so use it
split your personality
give us the one that self abuses
Why are you so quiet?
its not the Jeremy that I know
isnt it time to riot?
where is your red nose?
Dec 21, 2013
Dec 21, 2013 at 12:30 PM UTC
Where it all started...
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2018179/only-a-dumbass-man-could-love-a-smartass-poodle/
<•>
The Obvious Fact: Dogs Have Souls
******** poodle, of prior fame, suggests*
"surely this ditty will trend before one reads to the very end"
1. as everyone loves dogs
2. especially smart poodles
3. who writes soulful poems
really, here we are talking and you are gazing into my brown eyes adoringly,
and
you humans
still debate if there is a
god?"*
and then dog yawned,
a gigundo doggy yawn,
which is a supernatural,
miraculous biblical thing to behold
<•>
for no reason other than gravity
man says,
sometimes my earbuds fall out of my ears,
without provocation, of their own accord,
to remind that though they're in,
the music isn't in,
and neither
am I anywhere real, concrete,
existential,
to be found
which prompts a furious philosophical poodle to man discourse,
as to my exact whereabouts
badass poodle quotes Joan Baez (Diamonds and Rust):
"My poetry was lousy you said,"
and to verify my geo-physical locus,
and his opinion of the human's written hocus pocus
poetry,
gentle farts and adds, low growling,
"there your are!"
how I love that
centered, down to earth,
in my bed, in my heart
dog
<•>
"Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is enemy action."
Goldfinger
a favorite phrase from a movie of one's youth.
that rises to the surface, when smartass-u-know-who
reads my weak human mind and yes,
farts twice more, adding poetically:
*"the best things in life always
come in threes,
her, me, and you"*
"glad to be included," I replied,
to which he licked his
privates publicly,
adding lowly,
*"every smart poodle need a leashed human,
as if any self-respecting poodl could or would
type their own poems,
who's
the *** now!"*
and we got up, got the leash
(for human to carry)
put our earbuds in,
went for a sunrise
sniff-walk-and-compose
on the beach
the two **********
arguing
which Pandora station to turn on,
two only love poets, both thinking of their shared
her
finally, compromising, in tail wagging agreement on,
The Righteous Brothers
<•>
p.s. lol, only a ******* man could love a ******** poodle.
~
8:33am
8/11/17
Aug 11, 2017
Aug 11, 2017 at 6:32 PM UTC
Glad to see you, the ORANGE hatted man said to the YELLOW shirted Person seated in the FULL Reclining Chair, WHICH *By the *way, was ONLY in the Half Back Position. Being in the Half-Back Position allowed the YELLOW shirted Person to respond in Just a Slightly UPLIFTED EYE ANGLE !! And, the ORANGE Hatted man, Peering Down, with Head ***** Gave EACH of them an EQUAL Opposition Eye Angle of 22 Degrees EXACT ! ! Now, to Verify the fact of Equal Opposition, the PROTRACTOR MAN arrived promptly on the scene to Evaluate the Situation.. He (protractor-man) Had , for the Very FIRST-TIME, been especially Called for this HISTORIC Moment . YES,,YES,, For the very "FIRST-TIME" Equal Opposition between an ORANGE hatted man and a YELLOW shirted person, USING the Measurement of "ALL-MEANING", *THAT IS:: "The Protractor of Life"... This Historic moment would forever be Relished by Another Member of THE SOCIETY , BUT it was up to the Assigned Protractor Man to Assure all Interested Parties, That the ANGLE of Exactness was * C O R R E C T ! ! OR....it wouldn't COUNT ! OH DEAR GOD,,"THOUGHT" the assigned Protractor man, Let my Measurements be CORRECT ! ! The ORANGE Hatted man continued to Patiently Peer at the YELLOW shirted person seated in the :HALF-BACK * Position in the Full Reclining Chair.. A Trumpet Blast form a BRONZE Bassoon,, announced the arrival of a SPECIAL LADY ;Fully Gowned in STARTLING PINK AND Glimmering WHITE PEARLS , adorning Her Neck and SUN-KISSED" DIAMONDS flashed from her Fingers. In her Right hand she firmly grasped an envelope. She Careful in her opening ,as if it were a SEVEN-SEALED SCROLL ** Pulled out the PURPLE with GOLD INLAY INSCRIPTION ,"CERTIFICATE OF APPROVAL " FOR THE Magnificent level of ACHIEVEMENT by the ORANGE hatted and YELLOW shirted man ,VERIFIED BY AN "UN-COLORED " PROTRACTOR-MAN" "HEAVENLY" PRAISES AND ACCOLADES FILLED THE AIR** AND A "BOOMING-THUNDERING VOICED" "NOT-EVERYTHING WILL BE IN......."B L A C K & W H I T E " ! !
Dec 13, 2010
Dec 13, 2010 at 3:26 AM UTC
By CAConrad
we stopped
studying the
night sky for
directions
if someone said
we made it up
planet Earth
isn’t real
we would try
to verify try
to be sure
critics
are the
evidence
we do not
trust ourselves
your imagination is
asking for parole
what is your
verdict Warden
try to always
remember the
calendar made
of light our
ancestors
followed to
pass the year
Jun 17, 2023
Jun 17, 2023 at 2:58 PM UTC
I can't say I will marry her really soon for sure, because this is India and the society here is really tough.
But I'm Atul Kaushal, my name literally means Incomparable Skill and I intend to achieve something significant in my life, such that I'm fully capable to fulfill all her unsaid hidden desires when we marry.
I don't want her to feel any regrets or other negative feelings when she marries me some 7 years later, I only want us to be different than the rest of world such that unlike most of them no problems arise between us due to various worldly problems.
May be I'm dreaming of something perfect, but so far my life has been perfectly imperfect with the share of misgivings I have had is the majority in my performance card and I now wish that when she marries me the only thing which is imperfect is our hairstyle every morning we wake up smiling as we remember the previous night.
May be I am or may be I'm not demanding too much from time - I'm just asking her in my destiny - just her - in my mornings I imagine her jogging with me - in my days toiling at her desk in the office just like me - in my afternoons calling me to verify if I had my lunch we had packed in the morning - in my evenings asking how my day at office had been and telling about hers too - in my weekends I see 'us' having fun.
May be I am or may be I'm not being too apprehensive in my mind - apprehensive that whether her family will accept me as their son-in-law, or we would have to forget each other, or we will have only one way left and that be just to take help from the court and elope to get married, or may be I will just have to abduct her from the wedding venue in full public view in front of her parents, uncles & aunts, siblings & cousins, friends & acquaintances, Hindu priests & pujaris, may be thugs & bodyguards hired by her family to keep the wedding a smooth affair, and may be my parents might refuse to let her in.
But under ideal conditions, it will be as I desired and even later we would be happily parenting two kids for I don't wish to have just one child like I myself had been in my childhood; these scars of loneliness are dug prominently on my face, but these disappear, yes these disappear when you make me smile along you as I hear you smile and I believe that these will surely disappear permanently after our formal union; till then I miss you meri nanhi si jaan my sweet young love, like I should have missed when I was fifteen too - I miss you and I miss you because I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you and I more than love you.
Apr 5, 2013
Apr 5, 2013 at 2:33 PM UTC
Sometimes I steal
from grocery stores.
Nothing serious of course,
sprigs of cilantro,
basil,
snap garlic cloves,
sleeve a single strip
of green onion,
occasionally, palm a jalapeno
I think it is the tiny thrills
of being a petty villain
that provokes me.
The warm slick sheen
of salty palms,
brow sweat, and
the shivers of pulse
that drums
my heart
when door greeters pull me aside to
verify receipts,
and never notice my aroused pockets
tight and bulging
pickpocket produce.
I'm no outlaw
nor bandit,
I do not pillage or
plunder,
I know the gray lines
that divide
good and bad,
because I'm at one of their
thresholds.
The cashier checks my driver license,
and address before feeding a worthless check
into the scanner
where it gets tagged and stamped
I feel no thrills,
no bad boy euphoria,
I am too numb for elation,
and too numb for shame.
This crime Is justified.
I have three more days
till payday
and hope the check floats
Last week was a short paycheck,
gas prices are high,
rent is past due
cigarettes aren't cheap,
and then there's that drug habit.
I could only write it
for twenty five over.
It's going to be a hard stretch.
I stuff easy cash
into my front pocket
and try to catch the eye of a pretty cashier
an aisle over.
She drags barcodes through laser red eyes
that decodes sale prices
She doesn't notice me,
but she might not be into bad boys
A small girl waits
in a shopping cart
with pigtails
and new teeth,
holding a children cereal that comes with a prize.
Her mother does not see
her kick off her shoe.
May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 7:24 PM UTC
*
Awaken refreshed, hush the alarm, time for another caper,
cuddle with the kitty, good morning, my fuzzy lil slayer!
Feed the furballs, cereal for me, start the coffee maker,
may be a good day today, at least it looks good on paper.
Drain the main, check the mirror, what-up my _playa_—
wait a sec, is it my self-hate, or am I a little greyer?
Inhale my morning nicotine with a sugary caffeine chaser,
hazelnut and doubt, mmm, that's my favorite flavor...
Brush and shave, step into the Hypothetical Argument Simulator,
hope follows soap down the drain—oh well—see ya later!
All dressed up, glance to verify the happiness imitator,
hold my chin up high, but only for the cologne sprayer.
Front door locked, start the car, on the lookout for hidden radar,
try to outrun the bitterness, traffic jam, wish this were single-player.
Make it to work in one piece, if just the outer layer,
brain boiling beneath, my good old trusty traitor.
*
Sep 11, 2025
Sep 11, 2025 at 4:36 PM UTC
Everyone is odium to empty space
Because,
It doesn't have anything to convoy!
Everyone is disgust about empty space
Because,
It doesn't have anything to perturb!
Everyone have repulsion to empty space
Because,
Everyone is dithering to talk with self!
But I am searching for that,
But
Incapable to mark out
The empty space
To talk with self!
Searching for empty space
For
Departing from everything
Searching for empty space
To
Verify my sin and accomplishment!
If you have any information
Please intimate me
With its boundary information and
Milestone of air, water, soil and life!
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 5:25 PM UTC
Partly to verify an era,
partly also to pass the time,
last night I picked up a collection
of Ptolemaic epigrams to read.
The plentiful praises and flatteries
for everyone are similar. They are all brilliant,
glorious, mighty, beneficent;
each of their enterprises the wisest.
If you talk of the women of that breed, they too,
all the Berenices and Cleopatras are admirable.
When I had managed to verify the era
I would have put the book away, had not a small
and insignificant mention of king Caesarion
immediately attracted my attention.....
Behold, you came with your vague
charm. In history only a few
lines are found about you,
and so I molded you more freely in my mind.
I molded you handsome and sentimental.
My art gives to your face
a dreamy compassionate beauty.
And so fully did I envision you,
that late last night, as my lamp
was going out -- I let go out on purpose --
I fancied that you entered my room,
it seemed that you stood before me; as you might have been
in vanquished Alexandria,
pale and tired, idealistic in your sorrow,
still hoping that they would pity you,
the wicked -- who whispered "Too many Caesars."
1.8k
non-authentic self
~~~
you have
never seen me,
I have never touched you
so ask me
am I
authentic?
am I based on facts,
accurate, reliable,
purposive & emotionally
accurate?
drill a core sample
into my essence
test it for
contamination, nutrients,
purity,
values on a scale measuring
human essentials
then throw all the results
in the garbage
if you want to verify my
authenticity,
*drill down deeper
into my
poetry*
Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 6:35 AM UTC
Still night, the stars are bright,
but all I see is the darkness,
thundering, like clouds
engulfing my tragic existence.
She has left me wilting for ever.
I don't even know why,
she never cared to tell.
When I stand here lost,
cold wind with thousand pins,
****** all over my body,
as if to verify, if I am alive;
the night sighs seeing me
pale and tottering.
Strange, that pin ******
I don't even feel,
but the thought, that she
has forgotten me for ever,
forces a dagger across my heart,
she mercilessly discarded.
Still night, it seems mourning
her absence, how could
one think to fill
the vacuum even for a moment?
Wasn't she my other half,
the Shakti, the power to
match the Shiva's dance.
Let thousand years pass,
her voice will reverberate
in my lonely soul.
Jan 5, 2013
Jan 5, 2013 at 2:13 PM UTC
On Monday I will wear my uniform -
A blazer from Goodwill, old khaki slacks -
Knot my made-in-China patriotic tie
And verify that my papers are in order
On Monday I will sortie through the candidates -
I’m important to them on this one day -
Then work around their signs all slogan-trapped
And rush the doors through a hail of cliches’
And watched by comrades with their helmets blue
Vote for a Merovingian or two
Oct 21, 2018
Oct 21, 2018 at 8:51 AM UTC
Do I make sense?
I’m speaking but
Can you hear me?
It seems like I’m speaking silence
I suppose I am since, wait--
Do I make sense?
My words are easily misinterpreted
Even now, you’re listening but
Can you hear me?
Tangled tangents taken
From the context of my mind
Do I make sense?
I don’t. Of course the sound waves are reaching you
Still, I have to ask again to be sure
Can you hear me?
L’appel du vide is all I hear
I want to know you’re not the same
Do I make sense?
Can you hear me?
Jan 26, 2019
Jan 26, 2019 at 10:44 PM UTC
**To Incorporate Institutional Effectiveness into
Our Everyday Language**
)/)/)/ is updating our assessment plan for
Instructional units beginning this fall
2016 semester. After
Visiting with /)/, our SACSCOC
Consultant and Dr. /) yesterday
About our assessment process, it was
Determined that it is in our best interest
To clarify, verify and hopefully
Simplify the current random selection
Assessment process. Therefore, in lieu of
The use of the random selection process,
The plan for this semester and moving forward
Is to assess all students in all sections
Of courses used in the assessment process
And to report data on all students,
NOT just assessing or reporting data
On a random sample. In order to provide
Appropriate artifacts, we will choose
Representative samples (examples
Of great, fair and low achievement artifacts)
To be included in the artifacts
Collection for SACSCOC reporting. However,
We do still need to collect all artifacts
So we have those in the event they are
Needed. This will give us a better picture
Of how our students are performing.
I know that we are changing directions
And I ask that you be patient as we
Navigate through this process and determine
How best to collect, assess, and use the data
We receive to make continuous improvements
For the good of the students and to
Incorporate institutional effectiveness
Into our everyday language.
Thank you for your willingness to assist
In this process and determining the best
Ways to help our students. Stay tuned as we
Look at and develop some additional
Templates or formats to report the data.
Please share this information with your faculty.
Sep 21, 2016
Sep 21, 2016 at 7:03 PM UTC
What is quantifiable are the symbols. What isn't quantifiable are the zones between the symbols, unless there are many symbols present that form spaces.
There are partial symbols, i.e. a gesture of an animal is present but not the form of the animal.
Reality stays more abstract with partial symbology.
What is known about the symbol gives reality meaning.
Speaking of visions as symbols separates the meaning from the visual experience.
The person who doesn't see the symbol as the reality has not been exposed to reality which is somewhat hard to ascertain.
When, in dreams for example, there are just collages of things, it is hard to say that it is more than a collage. But if I recognize symbology, it allows me to see every part of the picture.
Symbols are more for the artist than the scientist who simply wants to verify what happens in reality. While transcendent of verification of meaning is reality "filler", yet it attains to meaning only if it is seen as symbol.
The filler is more abstract because logic only exists here if we consciously give something meaning. Otherwise a huff of a dog, for example, is merely a passing image.
Since concrete objects already have existential meaning, they cannot constitute as filler.
Visions, because they only partially exist, calls into question existence itself.
In filler reality, it becomes participatory as to giving reality meaning or just enjoying the visions.
What separates this filler world from normal mind is that meaning is no longer the key to reality.
Simply experiencing the visuals explain reality in an easy way.
Meaning almost ruins the mode of experience.
Feb 1, 2021
Feb 1, 2021 at 9:29 PM UTC
One fearfell a passion-tree:** LOVE**.
Two fell wildly passionately embracing kissing
Hard soft sensuously profusely tender profound heavy breathing.
Then out of the sapphire brilliant blue three said "passion get a room"
Four peeked through the passion keyhole light wanting needing more...
Five felt the sunday sweat of being real close to verify passions' comfy edge.
Six *** *** *** *** *** all whispers still echo sexier passion welcome in one's ear chills.
Anticipation of seven alone together again & again heavens' passion fills anticipates more more more.
Eight big screen dreams enjoy the weather change and the voyeurs passing passion on & on sharing.
Nine ecstasy time for divine mind(s) heartbeat(s) passions' flame as one vibrant strong beat BEATS.
Ten one fell in [PASSION~INFUSED] with love undone. KNOW PASSION lives on & on & on in one.
Sep 20, 2013
Sep 20, 2013 at 2:55 PM UTC