Long Miscalculations Poems
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Why be concerned with transparency
People are blind, they really can’t see
With distortion and illusion in the word today
And bias and lies in what people say
Just be who you are, one of a kind
The truth will totally blow their mind
They’ll be so confused trying to figure you out
Their miscalculations will still leave them doubt
They’ll still try to mold you and make you conform
For uniqueness to them is the start of a storm
The fullness of creation will never be complete
If we all march together to one single beat
No one can truly know all of another
The closest possibility would be one’s mother
Seems like RightWing angry reds
are clueless anthrosupremacists
who joke they'd be better off dead
than organically well fed
Despite indigenous faith in sacred EarthJustice
now rewritten as salvation by capital colonization
redeemer aspirations
falling militantly fascist apart
While blue LeftWing
non-green
more secularly cooperative corporate leaders
advertise redemption
while at best blushing over past miscalculations
extractive and capital divesting,
hedgefund abusive
by investing against cooperatively-owned Earth,
equity binding sustainable
multicultural health.
Both partisan cheerleaders
for AnthroOnly commodity futures,
coldly continuing win/lose corporate,
nationalistic
anthrosupremacist hubris
And Earth unpatriotic enough
to efficiently kill
other species' great grandchildren,
and, unfortunately our own
not so anthro-supremely resilient
when left hungrily alone,
thirsting for earlier healthcare proficiency
of industrial
militarized Elders.
We obsessively file our grasping nails
while debating how best
to learn to tolerate
lack of future therapeutic commitment
to Mother Eartha's whole-sum
awesome
multicultural health care
nutritional values
Giving up on hostile
too hot reds
and receiving too much blues
bad news
to safely calculate long-term
life-care reviews
While distracted
by counting the number of re-election dollars
able to cohabitate
on the dying head
of a supremely self-appointed pin.
MOVE ON
Pick at it and open the wound
Poor on the salt with a big spoon
Can’t just let things go and be
Stirring the heart more angrily
The history we had is long since gone
I made mistakes and tried righting the wrongs
But this is the end of the line
Healing will occur over some time
Thankful for the time that we shared
Relationship was good I promise I swear
But I departed and left the fold
Out in the world to journey was bold
Wearing a uniform in line to conform
Growing up fast with others reformed
They yelled at me and gave me guns
When liberty came we shared some fun
Drove big trucks deployed on ships overseas
Round the globe twice in many countries
Very much training and more to train
Grew up quick and maturity was gained
Back to civilian life and started a new
Now what? Where do I go? What to do?
I know lets protect and serve that’s the ticket
Got rejected for colorblindness so I dismissed it
Earning a living at a health food store
Dating a girl, how can I provide for?
She was on track and smart and clever
I would marry her now and forever
She would graduate and become a teacher
But first we would vow in front of the preacher
Working as a manager at $14 per hour
Or a degree in allied health I would not cower
Accepted some help along the way
That which I am grateful for to this day
I’ve had my fair share of miscalculations
Made hasty decisions with no hesitation
Financial errors where to work and live
Undue stress on loved ones please forgive
Life is a teacher and I’ve learned up to now
Like a farmer keep your hand to the plow
Blows and punches will sure come your way
Take the highs with the lows its not all doomsday
I can tell you that family is at the center
Having my wife at my side with kids to mentor
Happiness is an illusion finding meaning is the key
If you have a “Why?”, enduring the “How?” is easy
By beardedjarhead
In the ethereal quiet of twilight's embrace,
Where shadows weave tales of existence and pale light,
Death steps softly, a silent harbinger, unveiling
The veiled truths that our lives have cloaked in illusion.
In the reflective mire of our fleeting moments,
We see the chords of our actions, woven from threads of triviality,
Mistakes carefully crafted into a tapestry of miscalculations,
A life spent chasing ephemeral echoes and hollow dreams.
Our hearts, once beating with the fervor of forgotten ambitions,
Now pause in the stillness, weighing the substance of their rhythm,
Each pulse a reminder of paths not taken,
Of choices made in the dim light of ephemeral desires.
Oh, irony, as death reveals the grand design,
A pattern stitched in haste, each stitch a testament
To the fragile hopes and fears that shaped our days,
Yet leaving behind the profound void of unfulfilled potential.
In the labyrinth of our consciousness, the ghosts of regret whisper,
The echoes of what could have been resounding through the chambers of our souls,
A melancholic symphony, playing the notes of our existence,
A requiem for the time squandered on the insignificant.
Yet in this moment of stark revelation, a light emerges,
A glimmer of understanding, shimmering in the abyss,
That perhaps the true essence of life lies beneath the veneer,
In the spaces between our miscalculations and our moments of clarity.
For in the dance of death and life, we find the ultimate paradox,
That in our pursuit of meaning, we often overlook the simple truths,
The quiet beauty of a sunset, the gentle touch of a loved one,
The silent communion with the infinite that lies within our grasp.
And as we stand on the threshold of eternity,
Facing the finality of our earthly journey,
We must reconcile the trivial with the transcendent,
Finding solace in the knowledge that even in our miscalculations,
There lies the potential for redemption, and for a deeper understanding
Of the boundless tapestry of existence, woven with threads of both folly and wisdom.
If i take you out of the equation i have me
If you take me out of the equation you have you
But the problem is still the same
No matter how you draw it out
All the miscalculations
All those miscues
The equation of us is at a stand still
You and i all we equal is no communication
The math problem of our life has no long division
No multiplication no addition
Only subtraction
Always divided
Is there a common denominator
There was when we begin
But now it feels like an end
Where is the true solution
Where is our fraction of the whole we are so capable of
Soon we shall see how the numbers and letters will go
In the algebra of our acceptance to move forward.
I wouldn't want you to walk away
with any miscalculations about me.
I am about as wild and crazy as society will allow
without confinement for my own protection.
Whenever I read a self-marketing sign
Please Help...
Vacancies of home and body,
Needing to be filled.
I feel bearers of these signs
of proper society's margins
raw and naked,
erased to try again.
When I notice long-haired grunge,
low-budget nomads with backpacks and shopping carts,
heading toward me asking to not be excused
for excusing relationships they need,
I head in their direction
to find our best resurrection
of civility
together.
My husband begrudges every dime
and points out I'm too wild
for pouring mostly alcohol
or worse down throats
without a home.
He claims they're addicted suicides
awaiting death's forgiving embrace.
But, I say this is too often true
and who am I to judge
those who explore doing their best
of worst available options
through self-medication
mixed with sheltered soups
and public kitchens
serving lines of autocracy's dark drama
Were I or he on that street
rejected by our own history of defeat
I would hope to find those wise enough to stay
with me long enough
to help medicate
lubricate
meditate my way
to suffer with human emptiness
and ask me please to stay,
tell MAGAs all my blues,
sing and dance this suffering
buffering away.
I'm retired.
Have more cash than I could ever need,
and don't want to go out that way,
hoarding funds for those who already have too much
while somewhere out there stands
a homeless sign whose bearer
needs to drink her lunch
at least and most this day.
If our legacy manifests
both what we do for love
and what we do not do from fear
and shame
and blame
If both our actions and omissions,
our positives and negatives,
remain behind to feed up and starve out our kids,
then why would I not choose
to offer social caring
when uncivilized neglect to care is so clearly that of which
this homelessness was made.
Life is all a blur,
the hopes, the dreams, the goals
wishes upon wishes whether real or imagined
illusions, intrusions, confusions
love's conquered...love's lost
exhalations, miscalculations, adulations
"life is but a dream"...until it isn't
fragments of thoughts start on lonely highways
tear stained shirts are worn on the edge of night
time capsules are buried at the end of the byways
whether decisions were wrong or right
in the blink of an eye
life rushes across the stage to hit its mark
and plays in every scene
squanders and excepts every emotion's outcry
etched in the face... until the curtain drops
and the lamplights turn dark and spent
leaving the sweat of time dripping upon the ground
left to vanish in recollected lament
of how quick it all was
4/27/18
" life is but a dream" song row row row your boat
I squandered my future,
my past present expended.
Unsteady steps protracted,
seconds and hours not tended.
My thoughts were not pondered,
delusional perspectives un-debated.
So many of my mistakes,
could have been anticipated.
Was it my unfounded fear,
that informed my preoccupations?
I could have chosen different,
my foundational miscalculations.
Polite and respectful,
an untrue participation.
The truth didn’t factor,
into my odd equation.
So I embraced my fear,
which fuelled my frustration.
Mistake on mistake,
led me to this destination.
One step forward,
two steps quickly back.
Do you see me sunshine?
My brain going clackity, clack.
I’m the one afraid of shadows,
don’t worry, I won’t attack.
Just a quiet back door seeker
searching for the strength that I lack.
Tell me please,
what can I do?
I want to be like me,
but just a bit more like you.
So I’m drowning my thoughts,
I guess that’s nothing new,
you keep bouncing in my head,
is what you’re offering true?
Now my many mad moments
are down to a few,
with the last sip of sorrow,
where am I headed too?
Maybe there I’ll find my answers,
will Jesus greet me anew?
Still my greatest final fear,
is he’ll just wait for you!
This piece is from the perspective of a person caught up in addiction.
Every earlobe ever pierced, minus non-pierced lobes, without exception
Quantified by head size, quality of piercings, and variety of earrings worn
Under ultraviolet light, utilizing reflective space, sound waves and distance
At appropriate intervals, measuring cut, clarity, carat, color and character
Totaling to a six figure sum, then divided by US bonds withdrawn from IRA
Increase the risk of screaming in agony, up to, but not more, than 50 decibels
On an operatic stage, bursting glass objects, as per fat lady singing, wherein
Numerical miscalculations of damage, therein, must be subtracted from the
Sum, so that all of said variables will not exceed the confusion of the bystander.
Written on 3/9/2016
Another One Down
And another one bites the dust.
Marriage.
My friend, my neighbor, the lady next door,
Rampant miscalculations of being too nice,
two people that complain, endlessly.
She does not do enough.
I have not had “any” in weeks.
I work all the time.
What do I show for it?
When do I get my due?
These are the words,
That he would spew.
She did the dishes,
She worked two jobs,
She got the kids to school,
What a fool…
She made dinners,
and kept appointments,
made small talk with your mom,
who hates her.
Yet… She does (did) not do enough.
I wanted, need(ed) more.
I wanted my feet rubbed, twice each night.
I wanted someone to bring my dinner in the chair.
When my plate is empty, I want more…
I want her to fill it,
and every need,
that I can think of,
until,
I feel…
loved,
enough.
I am “first” not last, I am the husband.
I am the King of everything.
I sit alone in my new apartment.
“Why… is she mad at me?”
Red roses bleed...you just can not see it...