Long pythagoras Poems
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This poem, which is loaded with math terms, is to be sung to the tune of Subterranean Homesick Blues. What was I thinking?
Johnny’s in the basement
Working on geometry
You’ll see my intent
A theorem in development
Presh is on the website
Hit pause, scratch head
Trick problem, misled
Try another approach instead
Look out kid
Better check it again
God knows man
Another paper in the trash can
You better try trigonometry
Lookin’ for a new way
The man with an isomorphic map
and a toupee
Wants eleven equations
You only got ten
Maggie writes chicken scratch
Paper full of cross hatch
Says she wants to attach
You better detach
You can’t find the hypotenuse
Maggie says you gotta use
Pythagoras or you lose
But the angle is obtuse
Look out mate
This spheroid’s oblate
Get on the rack
This nut won’t crack
Better get back from the ledge
With a compass and a straight edge
No primes, God knows,
Can decompose
You don’t need Terrence Tao
Can’t square a circle nohow
Add y, add x
See the roots are complex
Closed loop, subgroup
You need to jump through another hoop
Let’s see, try three
Take five, relax
Eat snacks, do tax
If you should fail, take an ax
Look out bub
Surely you’ll flub
By blunders, errors
Five-choose-two-sers
And logical abusers
Girl with a slide rule
Lookin’ like an old fool
Don’t copy Euler
Get yourself a lawyer
Ah add four, add five
It rhymes, it’s prime, then derive
One two, buckle your shoe
It’s one-to-one and onto
Square here, cube there, eggs poach
Twenty years of schoolin’
And you’re workin’ on a roach coach
Look here Jack
This nut still won’t crack
Break your hands accidental
Use a tail prehensile
Be inferential
You’ll find it’s exponential
You’re gonna have a fit
You’ll never solve it
Ken Chesebro says
‘Cause Mike Pence’ll take your pencil
Philosopher, they call me,
Following Pythagoras* of old,
A friend of wisdom it means and
Nothing more.
For years philosophy’s principles
I tried to understand and
For decades her ethics strived
To apply.
Plato, Socrates, Aristotle, Heraclitus
My subjects were,
Thus
Faithfully myself devoted to
Their teaching
With
No great success, on my part,
I confess
However, this was not because of
Lack of trying.
And now,
As life’s end, I discern clearer as days,
Are passing by
To my horror, unfortunately, came to realize
That
Although a loyal FRIEND of WISDOM
I have remained to this very day,
WISDOM herself NEVER thought of me
THE SAME WAY!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
11 June 2021
*Pythagoras, Greek philosopher c570-c495 BC, after discovering the Pythagorean Theorem, the Greeks gave him the title of " SOFOS" which means WISE as the custom was at the time to call all men of learning. Pythagoras refused the title and called himself " PHILOS TIS SOFIAS " FRIEND OF WISDOM, because he said WISE was only GOD! Since then the title of Philosopher has been used to this day and every man of learning gets his Ph. D. (Philosophy Degree) which means that he accepts the limits of his knowledge since only GOD knows.
Biden has never felt weller
He’s seen off that crazy-haired fella
With boxes to dump
Of votes ticked for Trump
He simply can’t move in his cellar.
***
Neil Armstrong had NASA to please
He slowly got down on his knees
He dug up a rock
And got quite a shock
And said ‘Yum... it really is cheese.’
***
Pythagoras drove a big wedge
He said the world’s round with no ledge
Columbus was stressed
When in the Crow’s nest
He cried, ‘We've gone over the edge‘
***
That Alexander Graham Bell
At least as far as I can tell
His chisels he’d hone,
Carved a dog and a bone
Marconi had made one as well
***
Alexander Fleming earned his shilling
By working so hard and so willing
He ate mouldy bread
But before he was dead
He invented a pen with a quill in
***
Adam, it seems, had no mother
But God had sent Adam a lover
Eve, naked in bed
Was sad when he said
Hi ducks, have you got a brother?
***
The asteroid wouldn’t desist
It’s path wouldn’t turn, wouldn’t twist
That fireball from space
flew by at a pace
A caveman said f*ck me, it missed
***
That covid was terribly cruel
It just wouldn't run out of fuel
We first sent rebukes
And then we sent nukes
When Xi Jinping said ‘April Fool’
***
Isaac Newton is astounded
The apple has left him confounded
His half crazy stare
As it floats in mid air
Is strange for he’s always so grounded
***
No seconds, no minutes, no hours,
A cosmos of dust and gas showers
They’d clash and they’d clang
To make a big bang...
Phut!
a jolly darling right angle went straight out of the lateral box
fed up with grinding a living on the periphery of pure reason
he thought back to his square roots and longed for a change
his strict Dad Monty Pythagoras had been rather level headed
had equated logic premises and conclusions with happiness
a refined man steeped in knowledge in search for great virtue
his Mom Pi however never lived up the promise of her name
strayed from her calculated path of predetermined precision
abandoned caution and boredom and soaked in a bubbly bath
Archimedes my **** I can’t throw the baby out of the water
had a fling with Plato in his cave and settled for the kitchen
made the best strawberry crumble from recipes of her aunt
Little Monty Pi enjoyed whipped cream and emotion much more
than obedience and hypothenuses and left mere equations behind
licked off the whisk and dreamed of the perfect circle for good
vanilla emotions danced with sweet sugar candy mountains as
his feelings submerged into a fantasy world coated in cinnamon
he was warned that he might have eggy intuitions on his face
for shells would easily crack and ovations weren’t perfectly round
but his world was not flat anymore and he wished for perspectives
of a different kind than sitting in the lost corner at ninety degrees
if you can stand the heat you should remain in the bakehouse
savour cookies or condensed milk tarts for such exquisite cuisine
beats mere cognition and the dour fragrance of stale rationale
Mum chuckled while Dad despaired and took out his slide rule
proposed that life was no honey pot and cooking was effluvium
misleading and not up to the fine task of consequential virtues
but like most kids he would only listen to what he wanted to hear
put Nirvana on the headphones and closed his mind to objections
eventually he learnt that life was really a giant rigged rollercoaster
maybe the strawberries were laced with psychedelic truth serum
or the icing on the gateau was to abandon forethought and planning
most of all that he was neither circle nor angle and just needed to be
30th August 2020
(Voices of Galileo & Pythagoras)
On this day—
September 9th, 2025,
an echo rose from the ninth portal of the universe.
Galileo spoke:
"Mathematics is the language
with which God has written the universe."
The proof was everywhere—
the ninth month,
the ninth day,
the year 2025
folding into the number 9.
A trinity appeared:
999.
And when I added 9 + 9 + 9 = 27—
it fell again to 9.
A cycle completed.
A circle closed.
Galileo’s voice trembled:
"This happens once in nine years.
The world has finished one chapter—
and now, it begins another."
I asked—
“What does this cycle mean for humanity?”
He answered:
"Nine is compassion.
Nine is wisdom.
Nine is completion—
and awakening.
It calls the soul to service,
to live for the greater good."
Then Pythagoras appeared,
his face burning with sorrow and light:
"The world was in meditation—
now it awakens.
The true hearts of compassion
will rise for humanity’s sake."
We raised our eyes to the stars.
They shimmered as if lifting glasses with us.
And we whispered:
“September 9th, 2025—
the day of 999.
A cycle ends.
A cycle begins.
Cheers.
I searched in vain for inspiration.
I even climbed the sacred Parnassus
Where all the muses reside.
I danced with them
Engaged in endless discourse.
All in vain.
Then I resigned to my fate.
Oh Pythagoras? How I refused
Ever to believe in your metempsychosis?
Alas that meritocracy should be reborn
Reborn to write again,
Reborn from darkness and void
Reborn to mock myself again.
With a splash of painted words,
Disjointed, without sense.
A sickly morbid earthling
Fed on the slums and dregs of earth,
Pampered on deadly drugs.,
Only to be haunted by a thousand empty dreams.
Now I solely scribble:
A mass of oddly disjointed lines,
Words upon words, a phantasmagoria of nonsense,
While ashes fall upon the yellow pages
Scented with nicotine of stale cigars.
If Newton hadn't done his thing
How would we all stay down
Pythagoras said his pies are square
And that the world is round
Columbus sailed an open sea
And found a landmass there
If Einstein had no relatives
Would M C still be square
Now Alexander Graham Bell
And this might sound quite drastic
Without his input all of us
Would talk to lumps of plastic
Fleming gave us penicillin
He made it out of mould
While good old Bill Lord Kelvin
Gave us ways to say we're cold
Armstrong took just one small step
Which then he said was giant
Some say it was all a fib
But NASA stands defiant
But all of that is history
It's stuff that's gone before
What a shame it is that we
Don't make it anymore
If she had to cross the rubicon for lack of sorting colours
A Rubik’s cube remained an unsolved puzzle
If numbers granted her the wish to live another happy day
Sudoku would refuse transformation from a maze
If chess could move to manifest the pawn’s hopeless plight
She’d marry black and white together
If life dealt yet another set of hands tied to brave surrender
A poker face turned red hot poker in her eye
But when emotions garnished poetry and muses’ feathers
Ink fell into place from selfless fountain quills
Quite possibly she is unbalanced on a spread sheet of lost time
And yet her pen embraces harmony with words
Pythagoras still dangles angles and straight lines in broken sequence
But there is no bloody razor in Archimedes’ bath
She has no rubber duck but sails with Poe’s dark ravens
Unfolds her plaits for darkened Sylvia
When foam caresses treasure island in her tub at night
She sails the seven magic oceans
A dolphin croaks another oracle at Delphi’s flood gates
As she postpones hemlock for another day
When she reaches cataracts of blurry vision in despair
Zero sum games twist algorithms of illusion
She cannot square roots and circles will not divide her prime
However much adding up fracture pulls the plug
Regardless of whether steam or tears moisten her parchment
The misty fog finds metaphors to embrace healing
24th January 2020
While taking stock of the library
Here in my home today, I found myself
Considering all the pages throughout the years
For which I’ve dearly paid. Voluminous
Paragraphs, chapters and verses from
Adam and Eve to Zen like prayers;
Trying to count the cost of so many books
Makes me wonder why I care. About
Astronomy and astrology, connections
Between all things; cosmology,
Biology, psychology and dreams.
Alchemy and metaphysics,
Landing on the moon;
Plato and Pythagoras,
The Wizard of Oz and Dorothy flying
Back home in a balloon. Still turning
Pages of ancient history, Egyptology,
Mythology and man’s search
For meaning within;
Aristotle, Shakespeare, Newton, Einstein wondering
What’s the secret to the universe and how
Did it begin?
Quantum physics, alien visits,
Lost without a clue;
Plants and flowers, greed and power
And why the sky is blue. Light and darkness,
Love and hate,
The Crusades and other wars;
The vanity and insanity of
Whatever we’re fighting for. Still more
Encyclopedias left to read before I’m through,
Having hardly skimmed the surface of what
Good books are meant to do.
If we take the time to sift and find
The nuggets of treasure within;
The price of a book can be priceless
And make a head and brain like supernova stars
Splendiferously spin.
The face in the mirror has changed
No longer do I see a handsome youth
Instead I see the ravages of age
Hair falling out and turning grey
Lines in my forehead
Well, I'm holding up pretty well
considering that have touched the face of death
in my past
and lived to tell of my ordeal
I watch the tableau of trees outside my window
Taste the light while I still can
Drink deeply from the well of life
I now know that I will be able to face the darkness
which all of us must face
I smile - knowing that the years (to quote Pythagoras)
are but the stream I go fishing in
This poem was written by poet : Anish Matthew
Poem Title : Facing The Darkness
Posted at PS : May 9, 2018