Best Statistical Poems
Can you count the times you’ve crossed me
And divide it by the times you disrespected me
Then multiply that by the times you hurt me
And come up with a figure?
Relatively speaking it’s a simple equation
Resulting in a drastic re-calculation of the outcome.
Can you give me the square root of the problem
That started this whole conundrum in the first place
And tally up the results and give me a statistical
Analysis comparing the amount of times you
Left me wondering why I’m on this earth
Or if I’m not worthy of trust?
I’m sure the answer would be skewed resulting
In the necessity to rethink the control group.
I believe the right course of action would be to
Figure out the base and height of the love triangle
You thought I wouldn’t notice, and in case you didn’t know
It, I’m pretty good at trigonometry.
Cause for me, who came into this problem with
Total devotion and a faithful trust, this doesn’t
Add up.
Rarely reaching the expansive ranges
Where infinity influences reality changes
With illusion marked stigma stamped impressions
Sparingly accessed acceptance processing life lessons
Voided all non-existent concepts entered into calculation
Subtracting negative signs doubling positive discrimination
Facing minutes handed seconds clockwise directional hour
Provided additional limitations restricting free powers
Lawlessly abiding thoughts trapped scribing under thin glass
Persuaded temptation daily weekly monthly years pass
Beliefs based beyond cellular systematic space
Uncontrollable devolving of our intelligent human race
Technological aspects statistical advancing mathematical rations
Places recognized first second third in numerical fashion
Reality set standards store a suppressed revelation
I am one of realities patients
Prescribing divine elevation
amongst the billions of people
there be some very sensitive
to others feelings...pains
sensed and unconscious
expression digested
they present statistical
probability they can read minds...
that is only just part of this 'scenario'
a situation where-in people hide
it takes time but we are aware as thinking creatures
that eventually work their way through the benefits
of a scientific probability this and statistical that age
ads and news casts saying buy computer inventions
digital obstruction of natures analogue scale of truth
stan sand
hi I'm Baxter Belknap Mandible IV
the Ninth Earl of Burneydick
I'll be heading your inner assault team
would you like the wine list
we have a nice Retaliation 666
somewhere over the rainbow
where every two-bit overheard whisper is an omen
and other vile statistical deceptions
where the big wheel spins like a drawbridge ratchet
but it never stops too many numbers
and the future continues to remain hypothetical
in degrees depending on the reading
an experiment in capitulation and submission
it was the War of the Parasites
but when has it been otherwise
this is a mathematical demonstration
bold as a distillery padlock
that insanity is the flip side
of merely more insanity
that would be Mandible IV driving
his dream hearse down memory lane
smoke from burning bodies
badly needing a wick adjustment
apparently fogged his lens
the horrors of the world are entertainment
weather permitting we'll visit the ruins
and insist upon representation
in the government Pilgrim Travel Advisory
you see the difficulty
serenity having been proven
a monstrous violation of reality
pause
every idea is a unit of measure
another pause
the pixels swirled and another
unholy vision drifted past in the tide
riveted to my screen
and it's trauma etched engrams
picked up on my middle finger antenna
in the last act you find out why
good bad and maybe mostly maybe
just trying to be more numerological
be certain of your conclusions
or call them something else
sure people's faces can be read
most are possessed by a mad hunger
or acts of cosmetic genius
proving it's more than brain chemistry
they told me that self-creation has its dangers
lots of mockery out there in hammer land
but there's no mocking your best efforts
kept them off my back for a while
set free for the propaganda value
and still always curious
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
He was a man of no name or personality
but a dot within dots on a graph
yet, the point of a plane surface he occupied
was the very edge of -3 sigma on a normal curve
or coordinate Y<0.1 : X<0.1 position on the wide plane,
so insignificant that hardly he was noticed in anyone’s eyes.
His assigned number for a statistical purpose was 2,
nevertheless, there was no hidden or specific meaning to it,
merely an administrative purpose; it was just like a number
assigned to an inmate whose individuality or characteristics
were totally deprived.
Number 2, when multiplied with infinity indefinitely
grew a pair of wings on his back,
the 2 flew away somewhere no one knows
where it may be, flapping his huge wings.
I am house shopping
with the required Buyer's Agent,
also a fairly tolerant friend of mine.
She likes to drive
although not gifted with any sense of direction,
until we hurriedly arrive,
then she beelines into the ubiquitously requisite lock box
as if by smell.
Meanwhile
I visit current occupants,
the trees first and foremost,
then bushes
flowers,
occasionally, to my grateful surprise,
an entire garden,
or even just one vegetable,
a tomato plant,
a humble gang of shaded herbs.
I ask them how it is here
in their home.
I like to taste their soil
for signs of pregnancy
but who knows what contaminants
might fester here.
And my real estate agent,
although a friend,
finds it unseemly
for me to put my mouth around
what I probably won't buy.
She, too soon,
coaxes me away from my greet and meets
with shade-givers
and grasses,
the edible and ornamental neighbors
of the "big house,"
to explore the darkness of plumbing
and electrical systems,
attics and basements,
kitchens and bathrooms...
Her list of boring things to look at
and too often smell
in a bad way
feels endless
in comparison to too brief introductions
outside,
speaking with,
listening for,
hoping and faithing and loving with
any signs of life
among these large majority of property historians,
co-investors,
cooperative care-givers and receivers.
Eventually,
it becomes our time to aimlessly wander around
in search of yet another lock box
on our life For Sale list.
I say goodbye to the trees
and shrubs,
my occasional edible
and more popular ornamental hosts,
far too soon
to ever learn
if they would choose me
or not
to become with them.
I feel like I do
on election nights
when winners and losers are announced
by statistical projection
before votes are actually counted
from all us co-investors;
and long before registered voters
have listened to trees
still standing in our yards,
on our farms,
in our fertile forests,
to learn their quieter discernment
of which candidates produce more healthy cooperative outcomes
and which more toxic competitions
within these diversities
of Earth's wealthy nature.
(Almost a Shakespearean sonnet :) )
The Second Law of Thermodynamics
Explained in terms of probability
And at a time with scientists frantic,
Statistically reprocessed entropy
H-Theorem, Boltzmann T-Equations born
Statistical Mechanics founded, too.
Connections with across divisions formed
A new branch of physics because of you.
And yet they criticized you for your works-
Demoralized to the point of suicide
You gave a whole section of science birth;
You’re more than favorable in our eyes…
Today you help design our vehicles!
Your contributions are unbelievable!
In the last days of ignorance, those Hands that will shape and nurture the impending uncertain future meet. They discuss what powerful, influential Mouths have said. Hands preparing for the future Mouths have granted them.
plans based on science
speculative modelling
statistical views
society’s best wishes
these last days of ignorance
Statistical Sunday that starts fights
Along with bringing many delights
One simple cowhide ball
So called centralized thrall
Bringing outward competitive rights
Written for
Sponsor Royal Trevino
Contest Name SUPER BOWL SUNDAY! **LIMERICK** or **HAIKU**
What a name called?
Football a game called,
To known arena called stadium,
Played eleven to eleven side to side each,
Formations of it kinds,
Aims of a two goal post net,
Aims of a trophy,
Aims of winning,
In a color Jersey of its kinds,
In a color booths of it kinds,
Side to side balls picking sons round,
Spectators sat rounding pitch watching,
Centered with a nominated referee officiating,
Lined with a two lines men flagged,
Officials of substitutions in questions,
Pronounced by named commentators,
Red and yellow cards rules in question,
Supported keys of volunteers,
Supported with all sorts of supporters,
Declared a stadium manager jobs,
Declared a team manager jobs,
Host the nations, Host the world,
At moment of a country designated!
At moment of a country authorized!
Called for all practitioners....
Photographers, Cinematography, Press, Medias, Adverts, Sponsors, critics, etc. centred.
What a name called?
Football! football! ! football! ! !
A rounded leather circled!
Circled in its color of its choices,
Declared fifa authorities,
Declared statistical over all game,
Respect covered face to face,
Stretchers officials in uniforms of its officials medications,
Football a game called,
With boots of its kinds worn,
Saddled a whole lot supporters,
Saddled a whole lot analysts,
Presumption for a nation's glory,
Preemptive individuals' desirably for survival,
Football a game called,
Called to the passionate in spirit,
Football a game called,
Embrace understanding to unnamed,
Embrace love to unloved,
Embrace unity to diversities,
Embrace creativity to un-creativity,
Football a game called,
Adore a nature,
Football a game called,
Called to a glorious home,
Football a game called,
A rounded leather circled!
With boots of its played,
With jersey of its kinds,
With choices of many kinds,
Football a game called.
So, I'm told I have 100 billion neurons
(by someone ignorant of youth's indiscretions)
each with about a thousand synapses,
to connect its own specific grandeur or fear
to a grand of other neurons and their neuroses
and all of these cadre's and feeling tentacles
are always moving - reaching - searching,
for input and an interested listener
for minute sparks of insights they may have,
maybe a few a second, and over the course of time
they begin to add up - these datum of days
Significant amounts of minutia and marvels
in my minute-to-day-to-decade-to-lifetime
collection of me, in my own Icloud of inputs
what more could a sentient mind want but
a spoonful of sugar, and some free radicals
to really open up the ol' data pipes
BIG data, is what life's all about
these days, of statistical medians and means,
trying always to crunch our cramponed boots
to the top of the standard deviation curve
and look out at all the rest of
experience below us, our own vista of life
Racks of digitals softly hum to us in our society
and like us, this evolution (perhaps) of life
abhors to throw anything back to the world
without gleaning profit or meaning from it,
no digital potato peels or binary bones tossed
without a specific mission statement satisfied
So, it's not so different today, in "modern" times
as it was back then, when chain-mailed or toga'd
or animal skinned, or just buck-naked, we took
in everything that we could as individuals,
and stored its meaning, its grief, its joy,
part of our memories stock-in-trade for
the core analytical questions of "what?" and "why?"
© Goode Guy 2012-11-16
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Big_data
Earth had offered Her eco-centric contract
of love and synergy,
awaiting ego's personal response each day,
each moment,
eager to optimize wealthy health care cooperations
of sacred grace.
Over an apparently inadequate lifetime
ego implied his competitive response:
I grow increasingly excited,
stimulated,
by this co-petitioning challenge
to frame our dissonance,
our operational riddles and puzzles,
games and illogistics
and dark strategies
Measured in statistical decomposition
of the odds for sustaining life
by perfecting hatred and fear
of death's dissociative decay.
I question Earth's right to positive resolution
and harmonic resonance,
as consonant co-governance
of enlightened ego empowering eco
to play win/win,
recreate without sin,
and co-passion nicely together
This co-petition against wasted anxious time
fully exercises my right of conscience,
to re-search 0-sum ego-partisanship
for absolute freedom from eco-dependence.
This co-petition asserts our human natural guild's unlovely preference
for contention over contentment
for sustained longing rather than resilient belonging
for uni-lateral freedom
rather than ego/eco bilateral interdependence.
EarthMother absorbed this richly contentious compost,
this dissembling over cooperative rights of assembly
and competition challenging associative eco-creation
as too inclusive recreation,
divisive of ego's omnipotent present place
in organic space
derived from eco's multisystemic functions
within history's healthiest seasons.
It seems to me,
said She,
Time has unfolded an eco-systemic co-tractive gift,
born of Her binomial grace
in bilaterally felt space,
a belonging response to mutually co-tribute with ego
gratitude for bicameral mutuality
and full freedom of co-scientific consciousness,
to conjoin time's eternal moment
of past personal ego
with future eco recentering life.
Post Scripted: "After all this time and space
repeating inhumane competitions and cooperative contractions,
deductive inducements to balance positive political space
with negative un-ecological economic time,
thank you for remembering why RightBrain felt eco-normics
gave birth to LeftBrain's verbal ego-petitions
in our first through last breathing moment
of win/win eco-operative identity."
Signed: Earth's Polypathic CoOperative Covenant
Bone worn from the busywork of waiting
Rough worry's riptide sweeps away solace
Exhaustion engulfing like ceaseless lakes
Tasting mineral qualms of silent lakes
Off the precipice of doubt I hang, waiting
Distracted by notes on statistical solace
Resuscitating hope, my one solace
Blood numbers float under hours of lakes
Through wet paper walls tear sharp winds, waiting
The weight of waiting drowns my solace in nebulous lakes
2/14/19
For Tritina contest
Sponsor: Charles Messina
now – seasonal joy
future – statistical joy
past – joy’s hard copy
Brian Johnston
November 16, 2015