Long Calculate Poems
Long Calculate Poems. Below are the most popular long Calculate by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Calculate poems by poem length and keyword.
How can one easily express the emotions intact within?
Every day we are tackled by various emotions
I imagine just how strong they would be
If the entire world's emotions were all squished together into one
Surely it would be more powerful than any nuclear bomb...
Oh, when our emotions are expelled from being bottled up within for so long...
My, how strong they can be?
I don't believe my volcano of emotions has erupted yet but, man,
Something has definitely been cooking from within...
As for one individual, Laura Elizabeth Breidenthal, ("Breanderthong" for others...)
I have been juggled about by new emotions lately
Some really nice emotions, and others downright, miserably...
Indubitably,(had to use the word)...impeccably... horrible
But, you know, I can't possibly have the worst
I know others out there that seem to have it so bad...
I won't go into what I've been feeling lately
Because that would take longer than a sermon at church
And who really wants to hear a ranting preacher?
—Or read work by a ranting preacher for that matter...
But really, imagine having to calculate every emotion you have felt in your life
Imagine one person doing that
...would it leave an impact?
Imagine everyone calculating their emotions
How similar would we be to one another?
How different?
I've wondered this often...
It just intrigues me how intricately designed...how truly...sensitive...in tuned we are...
Hm... not sure how I veered off like this, but I just want to say...
Appreciate this opportunity
Appreciate the fact that we HAVE emotion
And through art…through poetry, we can show our true sentiments
...our amazing imaginations....our true, beautiful emotions
Even the negative ones, when we express them through art,
You can see the true beauty of having the freedom—
...the GIFT,
to FEEL.
The emotions of one life can affect the entire world...
But most importantly they can affect YOU
And they have; whether through indifference,
Or inspirational happiness,
We are a fortunate race
Long interminable hours...
of darkness doth not compute
alternately titled:
The descent of dusk affects grapefruit
size or two (approximated
as clenched fisted) cerebral
specifically type of nervous tissue,
which made up of cells
called neurons and glial cells,
the brain a complex organ
that contains billions
of neurons and glial cells,
which work together
to process information,
control bodily functions,
and supports cognitive abilities
and priceless precious part of body
more precious than most any loot
far more powerful
than any "intelligent machine"
(take that artificial intelligence buffs)
with the ways and means to reboot
tightly integrated and neatly linkedin
snug as a bug in a rug donning a zootsuit.
The outer limits of the twilight zone
yields descent of dark shadows,
where the edge of night bleeds
and encompasses an infinite swath.
Circadian rhythm plays wickety wack
courtesy the suprachiasmatic nucleus (SCN)
analogous to a disc jockey playing a track
which just so happens to be
top of the billboard chart
band named Quack,
a host of indigenous Africans
as a gentle jab to KISS
paint their faces nonblack,
and the lead singer with a knack
to bring down the house,
which venue located in "Hackensack"
primarily refers to a city in New Jersey,
but the name's meaning comes
from an Algonquian (Lenape) word
meaning "mouth of a river,"
or possibly "stony ground" or "stream
that unites with another on low ground,"
according to sources like Dictionary.com,
Wikipedia, and Downtown Hackensack,
and interestingly enough the name given
by the Achkinckeshacky tribe,
also known as the Hackensacks,
who lived in the area
manifold times larger than the ENIAC
ENIAC - the acronym for
Electronic Numerical Integrator
And Computer refers
to one of the first electronic,
general-purpose digital computers,
developed for the U.S. Army
during World War II and built
to calculate artillery firing tables,
but completed after the war ended,
with its first task being
hydrogen bomb calculations
the brainchild of more than one brainiac.
When were they going to tell us?
That they were thinking of contracting out our storage capacity,
With no longer need to store those unpleasant memories,
Or any awkward questions that we might still have floating around,
That might interfere with the progress of new technologies,
With fewer of our thoughts to interfere with the more sensitive equipment.
When were they going to tell us?
That research into this subject has been going on for years,
And the testing of suitable devices to move this plan forward,
Is well under way.
Why has nobody spilled the beans yet?
Maybe because it was always going to be a no brainer,
With every computer giving the same answer,
That no more money should be allocated to such a scheme,
And those who thought it up made redundant.
Did they not calculate,
The consequences of having so many brains in neutral at the same time,
Or were they just too busy calculating.
Either way I may have to rethink the value of computers
Until they too learn to be more calculating.
The excitement for life
and the gratefulness
to be alive until today,
has made me forget
that I have to die one day;
and wouldn't it be so incredible
to believe we'll be immortal?
Find that answer in your faith:
the stronger you believe in that,
the less you'll think about death!
The need to reveal myself
as I perceive things as they appear...
has nothing confusing and clandestine;
if fate is controlled by actions either
bad or good...foolish, wise or undifined:
can we calculate how many days
we have left to live,and can we
foresee and prevent a calamity?
The need to reveal myself
is not a deliberate mockery
of someone's else belief;
it comes from enlightenment
and a solid trust that is
harder than a rock!
Stop peeping through my window.
I am not, herein, on any snooze show.
You frighten me with pin-pierce-like aches.
In my dreams, you send snakes.
I am frightened of my irreversibility.
Isn't evil's mischievous causality?
I sleep and wake with thanatophobia.
Knell is heard in my ears, not Gloria.
The world seems strange to me.
My well-wishers say I'll be soon free.
Is freedom regressing within myself?
Do I need, anymore, jewels on my shelf?
I remain shocked, often, and numb.
Unconsciously, I calculate my existential sum.
Anguish and anger brew in me.
I see void, vacuum, and absurdity.
Where has my creed gone?
Why is there dryness in the marrow of my bone?
I bear everything, whether great or small.
Trusting in an eternal life towards which I crawl…
"The Law of Faith"
by: Eric L. Boddie
I would like to inform those who just don't know the half
Man can corrupt anything except for Truth and math
But when it won't add up, they start to multiply their lies
So in order to have something real, division must arise
And just think of the remainder, a mere fraction of self
Always needing common factors to feel complete breath
Some will use substitution, others will choose elimination
To solve the system of Life's complex equations
It just depends on the situation, how was the problem derived
If it can't be integrated, it must have come from inside
That is called false pride, that's its natural base
And to calculate E, you need infinite space
And you only have one face, you can only subtract one Life
That proof was in the Induction Of Jesus Christ
The Identity Of Sacrifice As Given By The Word
The Co-Sign Was By The Father, The Son, And The Holy Spirit, How Superb
And if today puts a period on forever
I’m glad I got to spend it with you
I’m glad we got to drink in a million golden sunsets
I’m glad we got to dance to our own music in the rain
I’m glad we got to laugh during the birth of a thousand sunrises
I’m glad we got to collect our tears to be used to soothe our pain
I’m glad we got to calculate the destined spaces where stars land
I’m glad we got to position our dreams on clouds suspended in an ocean of blue
I’m glad we got to sip from a delicious cup of honey drizzled silence
And if its time to stop chasing forever-together
I’m glad I get to cross the finish line with you
As the turbulent determinations
of everyday vigor
bellow through stratospheric circumstances
dancing amongst the clouds
you calculate life's extravagances
twisting beyond hierarchies
as leaf covered branches
twitter in space.
Gusts of wind orchestrate
like synchronizing ballerinas
flowing within music
strumming delicate harmonies
on roads less traveled
pecking at your brain
into rebel territory
determined to stem irrelevant
while you savor circumstantial
realities beyond comprehension.
Masquerading through conventions
you enjoy the day's delicacies.
If I could only maneuver about
Or manipulate this stone
Then perhaps, by chance
I'd loosen the grout
This mountain, I would hone
Maybe I could toggle a bit
Molding my world of clay
Evaluate and calculate
Every inch of every day
If luck would have it
I'd be dealt a pleasing hand
If smart enough to grab it
I could answer the game's demands
But experience whispers
Reminders from the past
Struck down by spurs
Unfinished tasks
Just a thought that I've been thinking
An idea I've bounced around
Proceeding ideas that resulted in sinking
Inevitably we all will drown
So I become quiet, calm and still
The evil voices subside
I fall to my knees, before God, I kneel
Surrendering worldly pride
I hear a verse, I've heard before
It lingers and rolls off my tongue
I can do all things through Christ
Once I open the door
I recall the cross where he hung
My charred motivation begins to spark
Before long, my fire, restored
For that moment my vision is razor sharp
It belongs to me once more
I know that there will come a season
Floods of frustration will take my breath again
A chill of doubt will leave me freezing
If I am quite enough, I'll hear God's voice through the wind
There are rebels in my head.
First there's the anarchist;
There to break things and push steel until it bends.
And of course the logicist,
Willful to calculate things and plan around things that we can’t rend.
Then there’s the gravedigger;
There for my friends,
When we get into fights or can’t make amends,
He’s there to fight for my memory.
A shovel in one hand,
And an epitaph in his left.
There is the artist,
A brush in his whittled fingers,
He comes around after the gravedigger to paint the picture of people we loved and lost into my memory.
He stays around for the ones we still have; at least for now.
Painting pictures the second someone sticks in our head.
They always turn out younger than they are in person.
A snapshot to the simplest time I have of them.
The final one, is the leader.
The realist.
The one who sees the train at the end of the tunnels.
The one who pulls us out of miscalculated situations.
The one who rights the bent bars of our prison cells.
The one who sets up funerals for the friends we miss.
The one who paints over portraits once the pastels fade in time.
The one who fixes me.