I map the vision, chase the need,
Between the lines, I plant the seed.
From stakeholders to strategy,
I am the bridge - that's BA me!
(chorus)
We ask, we link, we write it clear,
Align the goals, wipe out the fear.
No cape, no code, but still we thrive -
Business Analysts keep dreams alive!
Align with teams, architecture too,
Assumptions challenge 'till they are true.
Deadlines loom, the scope may sprawl -
But here we are, who see it all.
Supreme Court examination of homeless budget item
Good is one crime
Is that what your saying?
Finish that sentence on your own.
Finding out what someone else cannot do?
All the financial crimes currently committed
By not taking part in another's process of speech and records
I hold no errors in law
Forfeit the matter of the document is not and is public
Without opinion
3524 characters left
These messages are being captured and archived in compliance with the Presidential Records Act or the Federal Records Act
I’ve studied the matter, compared statistics,
evaluated lives with unbiased prejudices,
my research and facts painstakingly sourced –
though four times married, four times divorced –
call me daft, incompetent, or feckless
my conclusions are sound not reckless,
and the indisputable truth that emerges?
Men and women make the worse marriages.
No matter the subject or topic
tho' it may burn will I ever learn
would it hurt if my lips were to close
as whatever I submit suggest propose
she will be myopic
nay-say gainsay contradict oppose
may as well hold my breath
as every word I utter
receives the kiss of death
and melts in my mouth like butter
should I assert it's what she does it's her wont
'No I don't,' is her depiction
in contentious rebuttal
thereby confirming my conviction
and morning noon and night
she'd like to be I'll also mention
tho' none too subtle
the epicentre of my attention
is it a female thing or only her compulsion
for at the end of the day
it's not the last word she wants
it's the final say
Notice our consciousness has no centre,
shifting between head to toe as it likes,
each pore a door through which grace can enter,
bliss magnetism getting a million likes,
as ineffable rapture in heart spikes.
Some speak of heart and others of third eye;
all concepts deemed false since we wingless fly.
the angst you feel is energy
in fact adrenaline
to fuel the fire needed
to face your fear
and profit from
the opportunity at hand
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Self Analysis
Miracle man
1/31/2025
I’m like an old book that sits on a shelf,
Dog eared pages reveal things about myself.
my pages are yellowed and worn from my years,
some chapters introduce laughter, some tears.
But just like the book, time’s taken its toll,
life, like the book, has accomplished its goal?
Today few care what either has to say,
you may rest yourself, on some shelf one day.
Me
And so there I was
in a house, but it wasn't a house
it was a shop, but not any old shop
it was my house and I ran
but I didn't run like me I ran
like a dog but I wasn't a dog I was me
but I ran on all fours
but as I ran I clawed at the path
grabbing great pleats of path
and tried to drag it under me
but what was in front of me
stayed there and wouldn't end up
behind me and so I ran but didn't run
through my house that was a shop
with a path inside but I was outside
my house that wasn't my house
gaining no ground at all.
Friend
(Looking up from his phone)
Weird. I don't remember mine.
Same again? My round.
when analysis
while walking in palaces
many callouses
Paralysis of the esophagus
when occasioned by asparagus
Can be frighteningly perilous
and even worse, embarrass us
Ebb and flow of tides,
the way eagle glides
and how raindrops fall,
mind cannot recall.
Mind wishes to know,
source of our soul’s glow,
fragrance of a rose,
blooming in repose.
Fears that haunt and bait,
twists and turns of fate,
impacts us no more,
as it did before.
All that’s manifest,
a life test in jest,
aiding soul to rise,
in childlike surprise.
When our eye’s single,
pheromones mingle
within that we feel,
heightened bliss appeal.
Coming thus undone,
we are with God one,
fears to rest are lain
and no doubts remain.
Let me hear you let me see you
There is no echo, only existence
The brave presentation of everything it is
A swirling mystery I cannot grasp
Let me hold you.
Let me hold you.
But it simply is
Let me cup the clouds
See how you flow around me
How you flow around what is put into you
I listen to what your dance speaks
Duly record the parts of who you are
Loves fries. Hates ketchup. Likes fries with ketchup.
Keep interacting keep living
My beloved
I want to see you I seek to know how
To know you
To kiss you
When you look at your reflection in a mirror, what do you see?
I see a failure, and that failure is me.
I feel like I’m stuck yet I pace up and down.
My face is etched with a worrying frown.
The problem is I tend to fester and then over-think.
At times It’s so bad I feel like I need a drink.
My stomach’s in knots and my mind in a different place.
There’s just so much that I simply can’t face.
But this analysis paralysis will not be the end of me.
First steps needed – deep breaths and a cup of tea.
Music helps me to relax and to calm.
I know that I have support so I’m safe from any harm.
I’m loved by others which makes me warm inside.
I will keep on going – one day I’ll hold my head up with pride.
By criss-cross catalysis,
Pillaged from memory—from pill.
Paralysis of analysis:
Stuck inside, and outside still.
Eyes locked,
No sign,
Neck straight, head cocked,
Eye-socket lined,
Long curved spine.
Focus inside outer locus,
A junk of mental hocus-pocus.
Bogus begs the beggar be,
Rather than fathomed,
Of withered crocus.
Lillith spillith an eider-dew;
Upon the eider-down.
Willith he then simmer, stew,
A ‘neath the Summer New?
Winter fell, and song-man cryeth,
To’ve been and not much else.
Itching on an itch till nigh death!
Approaches oceans inside of shells.
Echo yonder Spring in light,
And sight might be delight.
While still the tactile tends too trite,
Yet flickered, ever glowing bright.
Eyes ‘hind,
Blind mind,
Find neither sign,
Nor time,
By petty dime.
Found ground,
Deep down,
6, puddled clown,
Without beast at behest.
By liver drowned to dialysis,
Watered words upon the sea,
Crissing-crossed heaves—phthisis,
Waits for numbed catastrophe.
based rather loosely upon all the misinformation we receive
we latch onto opportunity to decide what should be believed
propelled by wants and needs, racing headlong toward uncertain future
forgetting day shall come when none remember who, what or if we were
obscuring right and wrong, hoping results cause consensus to appear
over the tortured course of many a long and distinguished career
guided ever onward by words and solemn wisdom from those who weren't
living an existence which we will claim to be fully transparent
overconfidence codifying into shining satisfactions
hiding the attempts to equip our lives with selective redactions
struggling tirelessly to establish the very nature of what is
careful measuring of murky depths shows how unwise placing trust is
eventually becoming lost in process of analysis
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