Computation Poems | Examples

The Focal Point

No longer Bible does appear 
The guarantee of truth
In court 

No longer the presumption works
As guilty they're fact

No longer Jury can decide

I am off the Law Enforcement 
For the Computation 
Of the Military Pact

The Hitler broke the Diplomatic the Convention

Your tactical is tact
Your focal point 

Do concentrate
You must be targeting your fire 
Horizons your event 
What's your intention's the desire? 

You might be doing firearms for sport
But not for the collection of your arsenal
Civilian Defense?

Why selling rifles the assault 
So freely as they are specific instruments of mine 

There is military,  there is civil sports

There are the rules of safety handling arms and fire 

Control your own arms today
As war of Law now works with neuroscience 

Cartoons for kids today exist for business so they would be buying

Computers in 101000 syllables

nought
and one
binary
computation
input then process then store and output
digital society foundation
dependency
increasing
good and
bad


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*3rd Place* Tetractys Contest Nov 2023
Sponsored by: Ink Empress

Emotional First Aid

Does anyone know the computation for emotional debts unpaid?
Does anyone make a tourniquet for emotional first aid?
Who makes the rules about emotions that should be displayed?
The scales of my thoughts feel these things must be weighed
These questions left unanswered could lead to rot and jade
Perhaps the most difficult is realizing emotions have been played

Vbt Practice 7 of 112

Here we get to a new visualisation
Chakras not six but twelve as of this computation
Root, sacral, navel, spleen, heart & throat
Plus upper palate, third eye, Guru & three at the crown afloat

This is an esoteric technique directly taught
So that errors into the practice are not brought
Involving mantra with inner light and focus in continuity
An energy path mystical not to be confused with Kundalini 

The practice involves cessation of breath without breathlessness 
Blurring boundaries between form & formlessness 
Penetrating the dark void to get to Absolute Oneness

The Tantras have many such agamas
Direct initiations - to lower mind enigmas
Take this, if we will, as Krama + Spanda 

30-August-2020

Counting Stopped

Truth lies beyond computation,
  perception aware of itself

Its ability beyond the last measure
  —of all theory and data unfelt

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2019)

Reborn

Is life about how many
  or then about how much

Is the truth in computation
  or in what those numbers touch

Is the measurement empiric
  with a final answer shown

Is salvation in the lyrics
  with the word count still unknown

Is there faith inside the mystery
  that mere reason can’t abide

Is there something deep inside you
  that excuses cannot hide

Is there a wind that blows indulgent
  carrying an echo from before

With a voice that speaks the loudest
  the one you listen to—reborn 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

My Net Worth

One day I decided to aggregate what I own
Realizing soon enough I couldn't count it all,
Though I never thought I had all that much
What I had was oddly beyond simple math.

Determined I was to know what I'm worth
And I knew the formula for how that works
So I added all assets and deducted liabilities
Yet, never could I derive the right answer.

My assets were tangible, so easy to add up 
But when I thought of lives I had touched
And receipt of generosity they bestowed,
I could not appraise the value of their love.

Swiftly I subtracted what I owed to others
Feeling proud of self for I didn't owe much
Till I took account of much that was given
Not expecting from me anything in return.

When I finally accepted futility of my effort
My worth resembled faces of my loved ones,
Not susceptible to any numeric computation
Well beyond the bounds of ordinary cognition.

January 3, 2019
Placed 2nd in Food for thought poetry contest by Silent One

Reborn

Is life about how many
  or then about how much

Is the truth in computation
  or in what those numbers touch

Is the measurement empiric
  with a final answer shown

Is salvation in the lyrics
  with the word count still unknown

Is there faith inside the mystery
  that mere reason can’t abide

Is there something deep inside you
  that excuses cannot hide

Is there a wind that blows indulgent
  carrying an echo from before

With a voice that speaks the loudest
  the one you listen to—reborn 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

Moon Ascent

@alons, ce sera pour la derniere fois@

Sophie Blanchard 1819

a metaphor of the sea sings no music,
no swell here, to swing the stern;

nor any pressure to float a kite:
there is no 'flight' to the moon,
no wing can carry me.

At the birth of Napoleon's son I lifted
from the Champ de Mars, and from the basket scattered
a shower of papers to proclaim the birth.

clearing steeple and tree top, opening
a passage into airless geometry
where faith is translated to trajectory,
buoyancy, computation;

weight against lift; gravity versus
the pull of elsewhere.

tilt of a wickerwork floor,
creak of a cable; the flake of my dry lips
at travel's very limit: so vast the distance
that if I raised a finger behind it would vanish
the whole blue jewel of the Earth:

fireflies on an evening porch; a curtain sailing
at a summer window;
my mother bending to her linens, the remembrance of a smile
creased in her skin.

I am on the edge of the sky; I feel excellent,
my eyes filed with moonclouds, and the dark seas.
I am beginning to move away.

Sophie Blanchard, Aeronaut (1778 - 1819)

Eternal Forces

A plethora of blessings has come to me
in a deviation from the norm.
I have been enlightened with all I see.
A light rain has become a storm.

The words fall like precipitation.
They fill my poetic chalice.
An amount surpassing computation
now flows within my palace.

The words have burgeoned into a universal expanse.
It is a vast territory to explore.
Like a large troupe, they come to dance.
in greater amounts than I had known before.

A passive foray has become an obsession.
It is presently what I live for.
An amassed fortune is in my possession.
May it continually stream for evermore.

Ponder Deep and Hard

How can you hide, from the all-seeing eyes! 
How can you fight, a spirit that never dies! 
What makes you think, you can freeze the sun! 
Whoever told you, you're the almighty one! 

How can you hold weight, when you're so hollow! 
Who said you can erase, your own shadow! 
What makes you think, you can shake the unshakable! 
Who gave you the power, to be incredible! 

How can you live, with the wrong computation! 
Why not ask God, for the right equation! 
Why not take your time, quit living too fast! 
Why dwell on your troubles, that will never last! 

How can you gain, if you refuse to give! 
How can you kill, and you fighting to live! 
Why shouldn't you get burned, playing with fire! 
Why shouldn't you drown, in your lustful desire! 

How can you love the invisible, and hate visible men! 
Why shouldn't you get mawed, wrestling with lion! 
Whoever told you, zero and zero is one! 
How can you proceed, with your math undone! 

Who made you omniscience, a know-it-all! 
Who gave you the crutch, to break your fall! 
How can you think, robbing God is okay! 
Who said if you give, blessing's not your pay!

Dementia

A tragic computation
muscle and matter are dwindled
less of the mind is considered
all is compressed into thinner

A blinding sight of lame
unable to capture the human brain
sanity is clearly drained

Make away this pain
I am no one anymore than who I am
I am no one any less than who I am

More to take away and less to spend
economists say I will regress to nothingness
I will fundamentally state the less obvious
in this bed or chair i rest

I am turning into the place of stress 
and again I forget 
and again I repent
and submit my honor to the depths of time

blankly seeing my joy 
fully masking the once agile boy 
and so I begin to see the last moments to employ these men into this battle
love and love my own and only
time to take the understanding of this ailment with embrace
and in its certainty I can escape the mass of truth 
and behold my own

-Jess

Gramps Fred's Fossilized Rage

No, at ninety-eight you're not a fossil yet, Gramps Fred;
     you still rail against the masters of cruel, crazy wars
          that left thousands of our brave youth abroad dead;

you still roar at the inept occupying city hall sinecures,
     and with your own meticulous counter-computation,
          you tax the tax-men with angry taxpayers' signatures;

I still hear you snarl at every phony insurance agent,
     and expose the shady tricks of any pious cheat
          who sounds polite, but with dark motives irreverent;

you fume over some military madness you just read
     and lambast each education department egghead,
          no, at ninety-eight you're not a fossil yet, Gramps Fred !

Variation of Form

Its beauty lies in symmetry
An exactness of natural harmony
In particles of these variables.
 Composed of possibility.

A slope made from just a touch
Seen in this, an altered form, 
 Found using a point given,
There is unique serenity in such.

Curves that flow in one direction
Or test limits of reality 
In places considered undefined 
In the course of numerical selection.
A chain of Independence 
That implies continuity
 In an equation made for two,
 Shows the equality of this dance.

An overwhelming feeling, aha, exhilaration.
I have for higher mathematical computation.

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