Short Statistic Poems
Short Statistic Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Statistic by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Statistic by length and keyword.
This may seem pessimistic,
But honestly I’m a statistic,
Craving only the face of tomorrow,
Without the inclusion of this sorrow.
White powder chaser
Her eyes stare like a lost soul
Statistic is she
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/loss-5.php
The true Kama Sutra statistic
Drives Bible believers ballistic
The "Good Book" touts war
But whatever for?
Making love is more realistic!
A survey put to a gambling mix,
posed questions on gambling tricks.
It states from the outset,
with Russian roulette,
that it’s safe, claimed by five out of six.
'There are three kinds of lies: lies, damned lies, and statistics.'"[
Attributed to Mark Twain
anyone can tell a lie but it takes a politician to tell a statistic
News splash
Cars crashed
Both smashed
Heads gashed
Arms mashed
Legs slashed
Whiplashed
Lives trashed
Hopes dashed
Her smile shattered by the sadistic.
Eve became a statistic.
The serpent tied the sling.
Claustrophobic catastrophe - frail wing.
Her bundle of joys
blown to smithereens, her angel boys.
Prayers Are Becoming More Parasitic
My prayers are becoming more parasitic,
According to what now is latest statistic,
Well designed,
With God in mind;
Also, profoundly prophetic and realistic.
Jim Horn
Accuracy Accumulates in Statistic
Accuracy will accumulate in each statistic,
Which may have made it become realistic,
About thought,
And got caught;
Now is easier to understand and simplistic.
Jim Horn
Love once was the focus
of our lives
till marriage became contentious;
two sharp knives
piercing the heart of it,
killing it.
Teamed hardhearted misfits
dualistic
by nature, antipathetic
where love’s the casualty
and we, just another statistic.
A child’s tears
The hope of a nation leaks out her eyes
A deadly dance of disaster
Spinning faster, the number grow
Each one a story
Wrapped up in a statistic
Each one a life
Connected to countless others
We are all dominos and
We’re all falling down now
Can I be me
Do I have to be like everyone else
Why can't I be my own person
I have to do my own thing
I can't become another female statistic
I am not going to starve myself to be thin
I won't change my hair color three million times
I will be me
Can't I be my own person
I am just a statistic
the Devil's reject
the **** addicted
society's twisted
my will submitted
till death I shall part with the dearly departed
broken hearted
can't stop what hasn't started
can you not hear me calling
into the abyss I'm falling
falling once again my friend
falling once again
I am what I believe I am
I am a giant
I am strong
I see the world from a different perspective
I am what I believe I am
I am rotten
I am lesser than vermin
I inhale truth and exhale lies
I am what I believe I am
I am done for
I am dissipating into the shadows
I am a statistic. I am one of many
I guess I’m narcissistic
I suppose I’m masochistic.
Fitting into just another statistic.
Hah, go figure.
I guess this is my delusion.
I suppose I enjoy seclusion.
Pardoning me from inclusion.
I like being alone.
I guess I am depressed.
I suppose I am obsessed,
With this I am possessed.
It is my only friend.
child lower your hands from your begging plate.
shine my shoes and shut your mouth.
lose your innocence not a moment too soon.
this is what the modern world is about.
stop those tears that waste the need to hear.
your statistic is numbered down.
fear nothing but me,for i am fear.
and you are a ditch dug six feet down.
Xmess
(cross it
out of mind
later.....xmess
means.....otherwise
controlled.....chaos ordered
shopping seasons.....programmable
social statistic inherent in.....consumer cultures
bordered by arithmetical limits.....with respect changing times
affecting billionaire and trillionaire profits.....creating consumer xmess debt)
stan sand
The old soldier reflects
During a two minute lull.
Shiny medals worn
On clothes drab and dull.
Wearing a red poppy
With feelings of regret and pride.
Teardrops for comrades
Who died by his side.
Now begs for pennies
On the city streets
Looked down upon
By some that he meets.
Waiting for a pension
Promised years before.
One more statistic
A hero of war.
Bang Bang.
You're dead.
One in the heart,
And one in the head.
Bang Bang.
Another one down.
Smiling faces,
Turn into frowns.
Bang Bang.
A third and a fourth.
Deal with it world,
Because this is war.
Bang Bang.
It's my turn now.
I bleed so slowly.
I die so slowly.
Agony.
Sorrow.
Another casualty.
Another statistic.
Bang Bang.
Bang......
The semantics always seem the same
While waiting for the morning train
Sat on the platform draped in rain
Just another statistic numbers
Emotionless state of zombie slumber
Wrapped up heads in over-sized earphones
And sun designer indoor glasses
Bough on a phone bought into by the masses
Only to be tracked and profiled into classes
Surf through a tide of drawn empty faces
Rocky squirrel flew through the air
Safely landing precisely where
He wished.
Caught glimpse as Shirley squirrel
(Herself in front of car did hurl)
Was nearly squished.
Rocky had warned Shirley before
Admonition Shirley chose to ignore-
Cars can smite
Such events reveal it's not merely heuristic
Fatalities by car is greater statistic
Than fatalities by flight
I am not your whipping boy
nor heaven's slave
or devil's toy
I am not your good luck dick
your statistic or last choice misfit
I am not your father's son
I trust no more and bow to none
I am not your saving grace
I curse your name with spit in face
I am not your falling star
my destiny is mine thus far
I am not your soul to mend
we all take our masks off in the end
Dangerous Retreat
Intrepid movement, quickened feet,
unentered kitchen, intolerable heat...
Corner cut classes, your basic cheat,
uneducated mind brain kit incomplete...
Vicious entrapment from lies and deceit,
dark red blood soaked red river sheet...
Uncircled socially, a phantom to meet,
classified statistic, control, alt data delete...
bmdavey@
02/16/16
I put a bullet through my head,
Im good and happy and since I'm dead.
A wasted life what a shame.
Another statistic without a name.
I'm dead and cold,
Because under pressure I did fold.
I didn't stop myself reaching for that gun,
I shot myself now I'm done.
If I hadn't i would have killed,
Either way blood would be spilled.
My blood flows free.
I pray that no one copies me.
He haunts the back streets
hugging the sides of buildings
Unseen, unfelt, unloved
a statistic in a dusty cabinet file
Raising up on sole-less shoes
He sneaks a view from the alley
ice on every windowpane
conversations mixing with steam
He slinks to the edge of town
to the bridge o'er the rushing river
Would God care if he took his life ~
his lips involuntarily quivered