I see it in my dream
I see a steady blue light.
My REM force increases,
Then suddenly it ceases.
Blue light begins to blink.
Though twitching, I'm awake.
My mouth is dry, I cannot think.
Wobbly on my feet, I shake.
The kitchen comes to view.
Once there, I see it shining.
My coffee maker is new.
The steaming process is refining.
So uncomplicated! I don't need trig.
I am loving my new Keurig.
You came by to give her a surprise.
Her shorts and top were a feast for the eyes.
She says he was there to teach her trig.
Your doin' the jealousy jig!
She tells amazing stories, but alas,
This ain't a creative writing class.
To catch her is to catch a greased pig,
And you're doing the jealousy jig!
The smile on her face sure makes you wary,
Looks like the cat that ate the canary.
You wonder if that guy's really so big.
That's the jealousy jig!
Suddenly, she's getting so hard to reach,
Says she doesn't want to be on your leash.
Better get yourself a different gig,
'Cuz you're doing that jealousy jig!
Pity the fool who lives by numbers
He counts his sheep while the sagacious slumbers
Imagines triangles equal or obtuse
Then numbers his thoughts by hypotenuse.
He dreams of trig and long division
Then stimulates his mind with a rhombus prism
Wet duvets caused by a linear quantify
He counts his orgasms by using pi.
Correlation coefficients make him smile
Exercises measured by the metric mile
A career built on a quadratic path
An idiotic devotion to anus numbing math.
For a St Patty’s day jig I need a pink pig.
His dog was irritated. His name was Quig.
I can dance a jig, just give me a swig.
His master shook his head, off popped his wig.
I need a jazzy curly-tailed dancer, he said to Quig.
The only one good enough will have to be a pig.
I can dance any way you want; I can do a jig!
I can zag, I can sashay, I can slide, and I can zig
His master took another swig of his cig.
Your ideas are admirable, your loyalty is big.
You go take the test for me tomorrow in trig.
I will be finding a pig to dance the Irish jig.
We were tested on algebra
Well no duh.
I have been to trig and back
while still keeping algebra on track
These are questions you can answer
they are not asking you to be a tap dancer
Put your silly doubts to rest
and be done with this stupid algebra test!
This is done as a response to my dear friend, Bridget Williams' poem, Tested On Algebra
Last night; had to study for trig homework,
I was so tired, but I had to stay awake.
Too many problems that I went berserk;
Took my time; I could not make a mistake.
When I finished, I started seeing stuff,
A Pterodactyl was staring me down.
Began to shake in my bones; I wasn’t tough,
House was so quiet no one was around.
I thought to self “He’s going to eat me!”
I had to think fast, too young to get ate.
To my surprise, homework was ate with glee,
But I was mad; I stayed up way too late.
Was I dreaming, or was it a real smirk?
Who knows, but he was an absolute jerk.
Inspired by the “And Then a Flaming Pterodactyl
Ate My Homework.” Contest
02/02/2021
The Power of the Tron
Said the Big Computer to the Human Computee:
“Without me, sir, you must concur,
Wherever would you be?
I tally all your numbers, and I even give advice,
Unlike you, I’m objective and predictably precise.
‘Way down my epicenter, I’ve a calculating brain
That can compile, compute, compound, expound, explore, explain.
Oh, don’t you wish you had my wits, if only an iota,
For I’ve more news than I can use -
I'm programmed to my quota.”
And on and on it carried on, continuing to scoff,
Until the Human Computee reached down and turned it OFF.
And now The Big Computer sits there idle all the day,
Without a boasting, bragging, calculating thing to say,
While on the chair, beside it there, the Human Factor lingers,
Computing trig and calculus by counting on its fingers,
And when its used its fingers up, it can simply transpose
And still deduce, deduct, add up, by counting on its toes!
Take heed, you Mighty IBMs, and other pedigrees,
Before you get too taken with your capabilities –
You may have stores of knowledge;
You may be an Alpha Tron,
But it’s the Human Digit
Ultimately
Turns
You
ON.
The timing was right and the weather was good
To climb Cadair Idris, I knew that I could.
I was up for the challenge, not much longer to wait –
Leave the car in the lay-by and go through the gate.
As I strode through the field with the wind in my face
I knew I must keep up a good walking pace,
Penygader to conquer before the night falls,
The ridge to the summit with steep granite walls.
The path it was rocky, the path it was steep,
As I rounded the corner I encountered a sheep.
He looked rather startled, but no more than I –
I hadn’t expected to see one this high.
My legs were complaining, my breathing was rough,
I thought it’d be tricky, but not quite this tough !
I rested a while by the shores of Llyn Cau
Where a legendary dragon King Arthur did drown.
Then on to the summit, to Idris’s Chair,
This place is a fortress, the Welsh giant’s lair.
And here is the trig-point and Wow ! What a view !
Looking down on the lake that’s so deep and so blue.
We climbed to Keppel Cove and pitched our tents,
others camped at Grizedale Tarn by the shore.
From either side we agreed to make ascents
getting up early on Sunday before
other hikers would be reaching the top.
By compass ascending through murk and mist
above the clouds to emerge on an outcrop
with views to exceed what any had wished.
On to the summit we came together
with friends from the south who beat us to it;
blessed as we were with glorious weather.
On the trig point I blessed a ship's biscuit
a beaker of sherry shared as a sign
of Communion with a view so divine.
Raise up the oars,
get ready to row
Fiddy cents to a dollar,
start rocking the boat
Lay down the law,
be on the swivel scold
Fiddy cents to a dollar,
ropes are tightening throats
Don’t kill the messenger
bringing the bad news
Fiddy cents to a dollar,
you got nothing to lose
Night of the reaper,
death is on a grim prowl
Fiddy cents to a dollar,
your life has been sold out
Try to circle the square,
make bad geometry do good trig
Fiddy cents to a dollar,
Six feet ain’t deep enough to dig
Holla conspiracy loud,
as the cell door slams to your cage
Fiddy cents to a dollar,
new guineas be squealing with rage
Raise up the oars,
it’s a go on the freedom revolt
Fiddy cents to a dollar,
slaves are overturning the boat
To be sung to the tune of Both Sides Now by Judy Collins
Rows and rows of subtrahends
Repeating decimals without end
Regression lines to mark a trend
I've looked at numbers that way
But now they only add up wrong
Even though I stayed up all night long
Like missing words in someone's song
Words that seem to say
chorus
I've looked at numbers from both sides now
From left and right and still somehow
It's numbers' illusions I recall
I really don't know numbers at all
Secants, tangents, arc-cosines
It seems like just a game sometimes
What's my number, what's my line?
I've looked at trig that way.
Now all my graphs have gone awry
I've lost the will to find out why
Perhaps they'll make more sense by 'n' by
But who am I to say?
chorus
I've looked at trig from both sides now
From up and down and still somehow
It's trig's illusions I recall
I really don't know trig at all
Edited 5/9/2016
Written 7/14/1986
The Mathematics Plague
By Elton Camp
It’s a fact of modern life we must face
Mathematics holds an important place
Arithmetic, basic algebra, geometry too
All are important skills for me and you
Of the people, only a tiny percent require
Advanced algebra, trig, calculus or higher
An educational development to abhor
Is to require all to take more and more
So much of it is of virtually no worth
To ninety-nine percent of folks on earth
Quadratic equations I’ve never had to solve
Nothing ever have those inequities involved
So far, I’ve gotten along in life just fine
Without using tangent, secant or cosine
Nor has it, even once, been of value to know
How fast, to overtake a car, I’d have to go
But we are making school increasingly tough
By continuing to teach our kids such stuff
It’s high time somebody cried out, “Enough!”
And childhood slavery to higher math rebuff
This picture I pick is not her own,
It could be for a bimbo or a night trig.
This picture with me is not her own,
It could be for a sissy or a bleaching wig.
This picture I hold is not her own,
It could be for a lousy or a neglected lass.
This picture with me is not her own,
It could be for a demon or a girlie class.
This picture I pick is no doubt her own,
It's obvious in her spotless face and her passionate grin.
This picture with me is really her own,
It's obvious in her modest crown and her sincere chin.
This picture I hold is no doubt her own,
It's obvious in her ideal stroll with her gorgeous rose.
This picture with me is really her own,
It's obvious in her charming blouse and her classy pose.
My butt is just so damn big
10 Irish men could do a jig
5 truckers could park their rig
16 Miners could plan a dig
9 drummers could perform a gig
2 Elephants could take a swig
22 college kids could do their trig
If only I’d eat less like a pig!
*For Susan's self exaggeration contest :)
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