Best Analysis Poems
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.
Watching Blackie
Counting sheep
His heavy head
Flops into sleep
Soon enough
His ears do twitch
Muffled barks
Some fervent sniffs
Then his paws
Begin to stir
Muscles ripple
Beneath his fur
I imagine
What canines dream
Chasing sheep
It would seem
Just then he stops
But doesn't wake
Legs out stiff
Like a rake
Eyes snap open
Lets out a whimper
Long and low
Near a whisper
I call his name
To wake him up
He jolts awake
My loyal pup
His crazy dream
From my analysis
A serious case
Of Sheep Paralysis
18.01.07
Composed for Eve Roper's
There Is A Brighter Side
Photo #3
It took a long time, but they finally grew up
Each...with individual diversions...Ha!
Five roads...five conclusions, (yet, but not)
“Children are a gift from God”, unwrapped at birth
Coercing us to change...not an option
I’ve become a doctor, judge, nutritionist,
speech therapist, teacher, and chauffeur...
All without license
In the final analysis of ‘raising’ children
Could it possibly be said...
I’ve finally grown up?
Europe's concerned
The world will burn
Russia's a tad worried
Her ambitions may be buried
Mr. Obama's lashed out and chided
His country's withdrawal as "seriously misguided"
Ordinary residents of the Middle East
Do not want to unleash war's beast...
High up in the sky
Beyond where eagles dare fly
One angel confessed to the Good Lord, his Friend:
I was counting on Mr. Trump
To act like a Chump--
Did he? ~ 'Think the world's gonna end?'
Some call him a fascist
Others, a racist
Still others, a misogynist
He seems impervious
~ The ICE-man cometh
Start
The other day I heard my friend was sad.
I met him to ask him about the reason
but, he was upset and his mood was very bad.
So I had to confine my conversation to the season
and the possibility of the advent of early spring.
I had to leave him in the existing state of his mind.
Why are we concerned about the state of somebody’s mind?
I wondered. Perhaps, we do not wish to see him appear sad.
Inherently, we want him to appear like the flowers that blossom in spring
to attract the bees and honey birds. This is the reason
why we relate all happiness to this auspicious season.
In our happiness we remember what is good and forget everything bad.
The mind, in its own way, reacts to the events, good and bad.
The behavioral pattern is a reflection of the state of the mind,
which is influenced, amongst other things, by the season.
During dull, rainy season, the mind tends to be sad
and one becomes irritated at the least pretext. The reason
why we feel happy again is the enchanting environment in spring.
Poets have written adorable verses eulogizing spring
There is happiness all around and nothing can be bad.
But, are we that blessed that there can be no reason
for any news or events to upset the state of the mind?
In a short span of time a happy person can become sad
irrespective of whatever might be the season.
If it is an icy cold, stormy night in the winter season
in stark contrast to the warm and colorful spring
and I’m holed alone in my log hut, I cannot help but feel sad.
I ruminate on my fate and wonder why my luck is so bad
I think of happy times and drive evil thoughts out of my mind,
only to increase my resistance to cold and not for any other reason.
If one is determined not to be happy, there are many reasons
to find fault with everyone and also the seasons
He sees only the negative side of things and trains the mind
to color the world in black and dampen the spirit of spring.
He fails to smell the fragrance, but smells only the odors that are bad
Thus giving him enough cause to feel very sad.
In the crevices of the mind there is some reason
For sadness to relate to the aura of the season
The spirit of spring brings happiness, while cold winter is bad.
End
always the object of analyses
universe is what the universe is
from quarks to atoms, planets to galaxies
plus divers cosmic abnormalities
everything caught up in heavenly flow
of where non-stop change forces it to go
no guarantees a passing asteroid
will not explode our world into the void
no guarantee seeds will grow in the soil
no guarantee the great oceans won't boil
no guarantee we will have air to breathe
no guarantee we will have lives to lead
no guarantee we'll have time to reckon
all may end in interstellar second
In the final Analysis
Destiny !, – she seems desperately to want to shut the gate.
She has been fencing in her garden – locked out, is this my fate ?
She has been offered opportunities to know me and my dreams
but nothing of my desires does she want, or want to know, it seems.
I’d love to see the sun setting, reflected in her autumn green eyes,
to lay with, the night long, to become conscious at dawn, to the sun rise
from her beautiful face, feel the warmth – suppressed – it could bring
to this aching heart, this alone soul, - my world – that makes me sing.
The pain, the heartache, much to great !, to live with this desire
to live with the direction it has been heading – ashes from the fire
is what I feel – for I cannot, will not pay for what is not meant for me.
The price is too high to pay for a foundation meagre, to high the fee
for a blank canvas, a painting without images – really – as I see
it, from these eyes, blinded, in what does not come from the heart.
Expectations, trivial matters, - pursuit of – is no place to start
a journey, an adventure down the rocky road of life, in life’s cart.
B. J. “A ” 2
January 23rd 2007
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
Endeavor so hard as Swot analysis,
Paved my path in dishearten crisis,
From cradle to the grave,
Confront delusion world with simple naive,
Loosed all my knight ness and habit of brave,
Contemptful life spent with no asset save,
Rhyme of my odes provoke no sound of clave,
Always remained in darkest hidden cave,
Words of apathy induce no wave,
Ravage all my thoughts, of which I crave,
Enthusiastically write hard for fave,
But, People considered me not more then a knave.
Written By
M. Shahid.H Chouhdry
O Magog,
from the sterile land of Gog,
thou rejoicest over how thy biological idol father
hast devilishly embraced thee
Spiritual mathematics
offer free radical theorems
of probability analysis
Doth thy Gentile nuclear goggles
allow thee to see
the virtual microbe mushrooming variables
in a decaying half-life reality?
O bastard son
of a thousand fathers
Raised on sour milk doctrines,
from the hard paps —
Udders on an impudent heifer mother
of a thousand harlots,
has weaned thee
in the ways of greed and destruction
Canst thy cannibal siblings,
Tiras and Meshech,
help save thee
with their scientific, canine calculations?
O Magog,
from the mutated land of Gog,
will thy incestuous father’s
Tubal-cain covetous leprosy
overtake thee?
Thou loveth thy beauty spots
inordinately
Brimstone salt cities of wanton lasciviousness
pepper thy mutilated land
The merchants of concupiscence
travel ceaselessly upon thy algorithm waves
Slavishly trafficking tainted wares exponentially
in thy free marketplaces
As the integer worms of digital reproach
feed upon the Kittim kabuki faces
Probability analysis
predict with prescient accuracy:
The radioactive remnants
of a cancerous tumor civilization,
shall struggle mightily
to revive it’s flag half-mast past glory
O Magog,
the war dogs of death
howl oppressively for thee
Thy merchant ghost ships
of Tarshish
has become floating debris
Glowing green false profit wreckage
washes upon
thy polluted Gog shores continually
O Magog,
who shall account for thy losses?
Does not the tabulated numerical conclusion
reveal the astronomical costliness
of thy prolific, propagating cloned vanity?
Which of thy mariner children
shall read
the technological epitaph
on thy submerged Titanic tombstone?
Triple digit uncertainty doth statistically vex thee ...
because of the frightening probability analysis,
which thou vile reptilian mind didst not take heed
O Magog,
chief Gentile prince
from the barren hinterland of Gog —
There is no upraised hand
to retrieve thy dropped divining scepter
If I have to do a psychoanalysis of self;
I’d say, I’m of hyper anxiety ridden mind
Constantly in some sort of mental pressure.
The vibrations generate more conflict
akin the communal disturbances of the social fabric.
I’m anxious to meet my expectations or much,
To be, to do, to turn or to become....
When the depressive psyche -
reflects Its true content – complex psychosis originates.
I’m a patient with abnormal insight
A rare genius in his own accord.
I mean in your thinking lies your brain
In your living the mind; if you are as beautiful
As you think. You are as genius as you sense.
I wish not give pseudo remarks on my being,
for; no psychologist can read you better than self.
There's this little fuzzy wuzzy bunny,
Who all year round eats loads of honey.
Now you’d expect his tummy to be runny
This fuzzy wuzzy little bunny
However, the honey has an adverse effect
And when I tell you, you will not like it I expect
The poor sod suffers from severe constipation
Until he feels a bowel movement sensation
He seeks a discrete place to release
The load that make him look obese
His baked in for a year in his tummy
The poor fuzzy wuzzy little bunny
With his hind legs astride, bunny squats just a bit
Knowing the pain he has to suffer when it's time to have a sh-t
First, come out as little pebbles then follow the great big boulders
The kind that gives him the feeling his been split from his a-se to his shoulders
He chews grass as a medicinal lozenge
To numb his a-se that now looks like a blood orange
Fuzzy wuzzy little bunny knows it all over when he lets out a great big fart
Then picks up his mess discretely and hides it in isle 14 at Kwik Mart.
6/26/17
You don't want to be caught in the cross hairs
Realize that at times life is not fair
After having minimal guidance
I stood in pure silence
With very little thoughts of violence
While I was trying to understand the science
Nearby some oak and ecualapytus, the size of giants
I worked on my self-reliance
And a broken down appliance
That sat lifeless
Then followed through on any assignments
No desire to forfeit this
In the first stage of metamorphosis
During times of water shortages
Tired of all this boring stuff
But I'm just warming up
From morning past dusk
Power outages and interruptions
Technical difficulties and malfunctions
Across all junctions
And near any ships intact or sunken
It either went with or against custom
In a world full of power and corruption
Don't count your chickens before they hatch
And expect it all to last
Especially if you didn't study up on all the facts
They say lose lips
Sink ships
Even cruise ships
And any big fish
I help up my two fists
But didn't expect anyone to dig this
Even though this all has been true ****
For many, it always made them think a bit
I try to make it all worthwhile
So we can see the people on Earth smile
Except for any that try to hurt a child
My style is compiled
From all the traveled miles
Even though it's still rather wild
Life, nothing short of miraculous
Above and below buried and unearthed amethyst
Near and far from fields growing radishes
Among objects moving or inanimate
Like a mannequin
You can hear the sounds of an occasional ambulance
Whether or not involving, accidents or something scandalous
Some of which occured over, cannabis and short-handedness
Cause minimal to much damages
Close to and beyond any contaminants
As well as inhabitants
It all couldn't be unanimous
And this is far from my final analysis
It sits staring blankly at me
It says come here just try and see
Helping is what I do
Come on over is only plea
Free to come, free to go sweet pea
Try it bid weight adieu
AAB,AAB, 8,8,6..8,8,6
Sponsor:Dr. Ram
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