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fallen fruit exists
earthen harvest and ground meet
jars in the pantry
Robert J. Lindley ,07-24-2014
More great poems below...
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His eyes deep green
Yours sparkle blue
His pen gets excited
Girl, thinking of you
You're an ocean apart
The realist would say
But the pure romantic
Sees life another way
Are you really that far
You dance in his heart
Love's not about math
It's the mystery of art
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line count and word number are equal in this selection....
"Make It Count"
by: Eric L. Boddie
Come to play
But if you say
Oh no baby, not today
Do you think he would stay
Or would he go so far away
In search of another lover he could lay
Doing everything associated with rolling in that infamous hay
And if push came to shove, maybe he would pay
To relieve all the stress stemming from your hips' distant sway
Because something must give, there are more than fifty shades of gray
That's common knowledge to the freaks and all those upon which they prey
And once you learn them all, I promise your lover will never ever stray
But if you miss just a single one, then you may experience that dreadful day
Where you lose it all so try to find True Love and remember to always Pray
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I “met a four”
when I was three
and oh the things
it did to me
and fingers counting
When the four
brought in a five
all my counting fingers
Reaching for the
said “times two”
is oh so grand.
They ran through
six, then seven – eight
danced with the nine
Then the quantum leap
and shouts of
let’s do it again.
ones and two and threes
increase in size
Still, my fingers are
within a mitten.
John G. Lawless
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Can one count the pieces of a broken heart?
Can a flag half staff proudly wave?
Will kites still rise in staccato weather,
or partial freedom be less than a slave?
Explain this measure of a hearts half beat
wind that blows yet never reaches the trees
the disfigured countenance of a dreamers disgrace
how half body dreams cry imbalance in between
Tarnished stains of unpolished silver
flyblown details of a life unabridged
groping for a fortress forged by slivers
unfit by the stages between and betwixt
shifting weight from east to west
dodging shadows of intent and neglect
standing at the post where the middle never met
like a chromosome missing beholding whats left
Oh to be pregnant with hope
then giving birth to a portion revoked
How does one survive the division
of two halves opposing a whole
What brightness can a light once shining
affect through half of a soul?
and where is the joy in knowing
without two halves you'll never be whole?
A heart scattered in fractions
equations refusing an algorithms find
These are the conundrums which riddle
and the factors left baffling the span of time
More great poems below...
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Pythagoras once fell off a ladder
And landed on a venomous adder
This adder couldn't add
Calculus made it sad
Algebra and theorems made it madder.
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Why do we need math?
Because it puts us on a narrow path.
Even though it sometimes makes you swell up in wrath.
Math just causes you stress,
But thats not the case.
Its a workers base,
Math is in every place.
Math doesn't have a realistic face,
But when it is used,
It leaves a remarkable trace!
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Deep Low Math
Divide the 1st number by nothing, Undefined,
That’s the meaning of TRUE LOVE,
Even the highest integer in a form of positive,
Cannot explain why this thing is greater than any negative
When you expand this formula of “X”, and why?
Why this “X” is = to 1 + 1 is = to us?
What is our common factor? Let me tell you in a simplest form,
Our destiny is collinear and coplanar
Parallel wherever we are
In the start, connection is at the end of Hypotenuse,
Problems make us become variables,
Inequalities make us strong,
But I found out that ½ of my heart fits yours, I chose,
Our life is an equation, we connect like a proportion
Whether our time acts like an acute,
100 % I will give it all just for you,
Our hands intersect with each other
Its so perpendicular as our eyes knew it better
And as I push the number 8 into the ground
It became infinity the sign of my heart
76 + 67 is in commutative Property
Where N is = to 143
These are words that I just want to say,
Let us make a perfect love story using the square root
Of the prime tree, as I say,
Please let me stay with you, Forever and ever, EVERYDAY
Poem | |
When oppositional cognitive dissonance deflects focus,
it tends to go back to when I deflected focus from her.
She sends me passive-aggressive messages,
bread crumbs leading back in time
to where she began to feel alone,
If you don't want a sopping wet tile bathroom floor
because I have thrown all my naked Barbie and Ken parts,
especially their water-filled hollow insides,
and the five saturated pools of stained white washcloths
I took out of that drawer just like you said not to,
and the nice sudsy soft bar of soap,
then you might want to reconsider leaving the bathroom
during my bath.
You might want to think of telling a story
or imagining with my behavioral lectures
I so mercilessly inflict
on the shattered heads of my daughters,
I mean dolls.
Perhaps oppositional cognitive dissonance
is what Republicans have about Democrats.
If you folks would be so kind as to return to cooperative civic and civil discussion,
about my intrinsic dignity, royalty perhaps,
immaculate integrity as a permacultured Orthodox Tradition,
utterly necessary to optimize sustainable and resilient health
for All Americans,
(although perhaps not quite sufficient),
including those who happen to have become embarrassed
by their wealth of health and extravagant disregard
for uncommodified values,
like caring and nurturing, loving and therapeutic
mentoring relationships and trees of life, and economic
and eco-logical environ-mental (0)-sum cooperative networks,
like the synergy of all natural systems,
most especially religious cultures
delivering a united and interdependent positive teleology
that we all created this rapacious, extractive mess together.
So, please stop leaving the bathroom of discourse,
regardless of how rhetorically insane and polemic,
every time we complain about your shitty attitudes
about wealthy compost and sustainable,
optimized economic growth.
Then you democratically complain,
by voting for the one you hate the least,
as we go right on doing
what we intended to do
while we were throwing water
on your slippery-floor economics
reverse-hierarchical interdependence and mutual subsidiarity.
Much too "solidarity" for Republican taste as True,
much less Just to those who prefer their
economically entrenched competitive silos.
our Democratic family value parents
hear their oppositionally disordered Republicans
as if they were of some dysfunctionally alien unitarians,
like honey bees and ant hives,
devoid of deductive rational accessibility,
of even one of four corners of truth,
and without capacity to empathize with their well-mentored praxis,
of continually forgetting you could not climb a higher priority
than telling your oppositional daughter Dr. Seuss's The Lorax,
interpreting each voice as your own Lorax Logos,
wondering why you continue competing
to reach a Win-Win Cooperative Game,
and biological karmic finish line,
alone in your Permaculture Designed polycultural PolyLife Tree Paradise.
When you think about it,
you can see that your competitive political
and economic assumption,
that Win-Win cooperation will not have our final say,
is not ecologically, scientifically,
or even permaculturally, metaphysically
sound, rational, integrated,
sustainably designed to benefit future generations,
much less synergetic or holonically comprehensive.
You can't win a P=NP,
cooperative economic logistical plan
until everyone else has the freedom
and ecotherapeutic orthopraxis comprehension,
to win-win with you, coincidentally.
With this perhaps un-Christian,
and vaguely irreligious perspective
that Democratic mutual-redeemer culture
is closer to (0) sum Core Value Balanced Heaven
rationality and intuitively,
than appears to be the case
for our benighted Republican
wealthy fat-cat anthropomorphic residents of Earth,
we have turned rather too far
our spinning cultural revolution pendulum
away from the racist sin of monocultural monotheism,
poverty and the overpowering commodification of human lives,
and the commodification of other species,
and the commodification of Earth's fire, water,
soil and sky,
Her capacity to regenerate fertile seeds,
turning away from sin as sterile insanity,
disability and absence,
to now prophecy the sins of monopolistic wealth,
to notice challenging, dissonant tipping points
bicamerally competing economic uncertainty
and ecological dysfunction for all consciousness
reconnecting our more humane DNA-informed
bicameral information processor branch of EcoTribe,
multisystemic and polycultural Climax Community,
coincidentally straining and stressing to comprehend
Polynomial SpaceTime = Not-Not Polynomial Open Systemic Binomial Prime Relationship Temporal "Now"
as Yang-convex/positive = Yin-concave/negative,
as +1.00% QBit = +/-(0)% Soul Core-emergent universal Vertex/Dark Recessional Vortex (Perelman, 1993)
So, yes, maybe somewhat closer,
but closer doesn't count
when playing Win-Win economic ecotherapy.
Horseshoes don't fit elephants.
Speaking of elephants in too-narrow-minded oppositional spaces,
where was I?
Oh, yes, she’s in the bathtub again,
better watch that floor.
Poem | |
By which nothing is divided.
no Adam, no apple, no marriage, no morning.
no God, no soul, no ear lobe, no Iliad, no Odyssey.
no black hole
no mission, no omission, no fission, no fusion.
no 7:30, no wind, no window, no owl, no one.
In 773, at Al-Mansur's behest, translations were made of the Siddhantas, Indian astronomical treatises dating as far back as 425 B.C.; these versions may have been the vehicles through which the "Arabic" numerals and the zero were brought from India into China and then to the Islamic countries. In 813 the Persian mathematician Khwarizmi used the Hindu numerals in his astronomical tables; about 825 he issued a treatise known in its Latin form as Algoritmi de numero Indorum, Khwarizmi on Numerals of the Indians. After him, in 976, Muhammed ibn Ahmad in his "Keys to the Sciences," remarked that if in a calculation no number appears in the place of tens, a little circle should be used "to keep the rows." This circle the Arabs called sifr. That was the earliest mention of the name sifr that eventually became zero. Italian zefiro already meant "west wind" from Latin and Greek zephyrus. This may have influenced the spelling when transcribing Arabic sifr. The Italian mathematician Fibonacci (c. 1170-1250), who grew up in North Africa and is credited with introducing the decimal system in Europe, used the term zephyrum. This became zefiro in Italian, which was contracted to zero in Venetian. - Wikipedia
After my father's appointment by his homeland as a state official in the customs house of Bugia for the Pisan merchants who thronged to it, he took charge; and in view of its future usefulness and convenience, had me in my boyhood come to him and there wanted me to devote myself to and be instructed in the study of calculation for some days. There, following my introduction, as a consequence of marvelous instruction in the art, to the nine digits of the Hindus, the knowledge of the art very much appealed to me before all others, and for it I realized that all its aspects were studied in Egypt, Syria, Greece, Sicily, and Provence, with their varying methods; and at these places thereafter, while on business, I pursued my study in depth and learned the give-and-take of disputation. But all this even, and the algorism, as well as the art of Pythagoras, I considered as almost a mistake in respect to the method of the Hindus (Modus Indorum). Therefore, embracing more stringently that method of the Hindus, and taking stricter pains in its study, while adding certain things from my own understanding and inserting also certain things from the niceties of Euclidxs geometric art, I have striven to compose this book in its entirety as understandably as I could, dividing it into fifteen chapters. Almost everything which I have introduced I have displayed with exact proof, in order that those further seeking this knowledge, with it pre-eminent method, might be instructed, and further, in order that the Latin people might not be discovered to be without it, as they have been up to now. If I have perchance omitted anything more or less proper or necessary, I beg indulgence, since there is no one who is blameless and utterly provident in all things. The nine Indian figures are: 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1. With these nine figures, and with the sign 0 . . . any number may be written. - Fibonacci, Leonardo of Pisa
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Shapes of the Past.
Numbers of the Present
Variables of the Future.
Shapes are different for every little hand drawing them,
every grown-up touching them.
Sometimes they miss a point,
only later to remember and disappoint,
in finding it too late to mend,
that broken shape.
Numbers are the same every time you see them,
a constant in problems and mazes of wits.
Yet, with 1 careless mistake,
it changes, never to be fixed again,
because you wrote in pen,
with the confidence of a youth,
the bane and talent of adolescence.
Variables change every time you try to simplify them.
Yet they never change their appearance,
staying the same throughout.
Until that moment,
reaching the last step,
they just become additional numbers,
that might be the right or wrong solution,
later confirmed with substitution.
Poem | |
five steps, and i’m near you
one touch is all you got to do
not one thing you’re gonna say
just that one touch is okay.
a dozen of matters to talk
just one word would make it fine
worried six times and more
i could only listen to four.
a room for fifty, a seat for one
you let them all in, and you’re left with none
in one heart, for two people
one would rejoice, the other would struggle.
for places and times and faces
that’s just all for one
never give in for another
if you got none under cover.
Poem | |
2, like all primes, fascinates
2^3, it seems, comes to eight
3, the next prime right in line,
3^2 [2 primes] = nine,
Still it's 9?vindicated
Poem | |
Two lines intersect
the same direction
balanced by forces
But if these change
the lines diverge
or intersect (see above).
with a third
Which is stable
two lines may meet
end to end
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One of Life’s indisputable facts:
Government reserves the right to tax;
And tho’ they waste far more than they should,
It’s supposedly done “for the common good.”
Economists use the word “propensity,”
Just a fancy word for “odds”, you see:
The odds you’ll save, the odds you’ll spend,
And how many Tax Dollars those odds will rend.
The basis for U.S. government budgets is “Total Tax Dollars Collected”;
And any overtures to reduce those collections are summarily rejected;
And should a source of taxes have declined or dissipated,
Other taxes are increased and/or new taxes are created.
Many, if not most, of these taxes are “regressive”.
That means their actual impact on income is “progressive”...
But “progressive” in a very negative way.
Relatively speaking, the Less you make, the More you pay.
Whether you make it or sell it, need it or want it, Congress will tax it;
And, once a tax is on the books, Congress has zero “propensity” to relax it.
Congresses, Federal and State, love to tax Luxury and Sin;
Smoking Sinners have had their taxes raised again and again and again.
Cigarette taxes are frequently raised, the “claim” is to drive users to quit;
But Truth is measured in Billions in taxes, so we know supporters are “full of it.”
Meantime, Non-smokers reap many benefits, while Smokers foot the bill;
And if that should change, Non-smokers would taste a financially “bitter pill.”
Taxed and taxed and taxed some more, but not yet into submission,
Smokers could shift their tax burden to Non-smokers…without their permission.
Yes, what if one Fateful day, those Smoking Sinners, Each and Every one,
Just put them down and said, “I quit.”; said en masse, “We’re done!”
Congresses would be clamoring to derive Billions in Taxes elsewhere,
At first, Non-smokers may not realize the impact they’re about to bear.
When an industry dies, businesses and people’s jobs are lost…it’s true;
But all those Tax Dollars must come from somewhere...the likes of me and you.
So righteous, whining Non-smokers maintained their hue and cry.
Ever pushing Congresses to tax those Smoking Sinners… tax them ‘til they die;
But after quitting, Ex-Smokers would pay less, while Non-Smokers would pay more.
Guess Non-smokers didn’t think far enough ahead, didn’t really know the score.
All those dreary anti-smoking ads, many of which falsified the cause,
Would disappear. And what about all the useless anti-smoking laws?
Instead of Non-smokers not liking Smokers, Ex-Smokers would serve instead.
"The bastards are costing me money. I wish they had smoked 'til they were dead."
So, Ex-smokers would be getting healthier and spending far less;
And may be cause for some Non-smokers’ financial distress.
While they ruefully pay more, Ex-smokers' pocket books will attest
By reminding Non-smokers daily......the Last Laugh is Best.
Poem | |
Why there's is a God Proportions divine hand spirals. He's shaping patterns not chaos. Artwork pleasing to the eye the golden rectangle. Clearly seen by His creation check your double helix in every cell. Not theory
Poem | |
Integers are whole numbers that can be positive.
In contrast, their values can also be negative.
On the x-axis, natural numbers are to the right of the zero.
On the vertical y-axis, they are above the zero as far as they can go.
You may think this question is moot:
With a negative number, how do you find its square root?
In a quadratic formula, if the discriminate is less than zero,
there are no real roots. So where do you go?
This put many early mathematicians in a quandary.
Somebody came along and invented numbers that are imaginary.
Poem | |
I decide not to worry about the parallelness
Of the tangents to the circles of our life story
The equation of the curve of my initial decision
Of you being my number tan45 was differentiated
As the union of your sets and conditions of your answers
Of your reply did not intersect with the tangent of the circle of my love
I integrated my mind and heart
So as to eliminate your love
But eliminating substituted the simultaneous equation involving you and I
Using completing two squares in solving the quadratic equation
Involving you was impossible
The almighty formula came into sight
When you factorized the algebra of you mind and heart
Making the line of your evergreen heart
Intersect perpendicularly at the center
Of the diameter of my life journey
You have rotated my life 180degrees clockwise
Poem | |
(Y does not equal X)
Think about it
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Fear of Numbers
Fear of numbers is real
They carry adding machines on their backs
And loaded numbered guns
Divide and subtract from families and everyone
With two times the pleasure two times the fun
Double their trouble on the run
You cannot escape the digits on your hands and toes
They are counting on you to pull them through
Children fear math and numbers like the plague
Run from them at multiple fractions of a second
Poof!...Like zero, (Is that a real name and number?), they are gone
Figures hide behind accountants glasses
Hitting you with tons of taxes
Not to be divisive or derisive
Or taken down in dividends
I think they’re out to get you
In the end they have no =
Something’s don’t add up
You can count on that
Poem | |
Basketball stands for war or battle.
That's why I think about the players'
personalities, in my foxhole or squad.
Danny and Ben are fast and smart. Dan
especially can pass making him master
and commander. To defeat them as we did
is very satisfying. Ben's five year old son
is intelligent but distant. Disdains to answer
my question Why are you you?
But I'm not here
to catalogue the men's personalities.
I like them. But each of us has moved on
many times, when _______ suddenly died
the games went on with hardly a mention
and his name has since been forgotten.
But even this, absolute mortality
of not just our bodies but our names
and souls is not what I came
to talk about. Yesterday, between games,
I asked Joe how Molly his daughter likes
the high school. He mounted an impassioned
defense of reading as the indispensable skill
when I suggested math, the scientific method
and history are essential too.
Also between games
Bob diffidently asked why my kids are bald.
I was moved by the care he took to satisfy
his curiosity, concerned the subject might be
difficult. He's a political science teacher so
I took the opportunity to ask What ails
the republic? Of course I answered myself
wanting mostly to hear myself talk about Iraq
and how empire is self-correcting. For once I was amusing
I thought, treating the subject with a light touch
But none of this is what I came to say.
A new guy, very big and strong, a
bulldozer under the boards with a good
outside shot if needed got into a dispute
with the other Bob who likes to tell people
what to do sometimes, about an offensive
foul Bob called which we almost never do.
The new guy said If you can't take it don't
play under the boards which is what I say
when I'm pissed and don't give a shit.
Bob said You've been pushing and shoving me
all day. I said He doesn't want to be
pushed and shoved which got a wry
smile out of Danny as I put the ball in play.
Poem | |
Today we should all be prepared
For some pizza, much better when shared;
But it cannot be round
For this date is renowned
As the one when all Pi must be squared.
Poem | |
if the minimum unity of all that is
how did Parmenides come to believe
in the infinity of one?
if three is how god is expressed
at its best,
how did his image come coded
while five has properties completely
the universe is just what it is,
six so to speak.
once there was a seven,
joined to eleven,
whose convenience I dispute
and whole heartedly repute.
but eight is no longer enough,
and nine is so boring,
three threes is hardly the stuff,
to stop me from snoring.
the real magic begins with a number called ten,
whose counting little fingers first asked,
a dozen eggs or a feathery hen?
numbers are fun and make no one dumb,
but never forget what’s behind their neat mask:
twenty six magical letters, put to a task.
Poem | |
bought my love new coats to wear
found I broke the bank
is my favourite sound.
Dedicated to my host Skat A.
Author: Paul Callus ~ Feb 2014
Contest: What Does The Fox Say?
Poem | |
simplify, he said,
simplify, simplify all—