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Poems
Poem with probability = 0.999507219013You don't think too highly,
Of Mister O'Reilly,
And show many reasons,
He's a fool for all seasons,
A fox tool oh so wily.
Poem with probability = 0.998020856409
My husband is a chocaholic.
When without he will not frolic.
Only dark and never milk,
White or others of that ilk.
For him to be my valentine,
I must give him chocolates fine.
Sadly I must watch my weight
Of chocolates I may not partake.
But for me do not feel sorry,
He gives me something from Bulgari!
Poem with probability = 0.997733662668
I find a Travesty,
The Clinton Dynasty.
I've just had enough,
Of the Clinton stuff,
Say goodbye to Her Majesty.
Poem with probability = 0.9965250381
How bitter Scalia must feel
A prophet with excessive zeal,
His prediction came true
Which he surely must rue,
And from it there is no appeal!
Poem with probability = 0.990880151477
SAINT FOR OUR TIME
Sages ago philosophers wrote
Love is confusion confounded
By explosions of vague rogue emotions
Unrealistically grounded.
Saint Valentine knew so much better,
Feeding on sampler sweets,
Mailing heart-shaped declarations
Trumping balance sheets.
Winter's frost and luxuries' cost
Counted for nothing on
The 14th day of February,
Valentine's day to swan.
No churchly saint, no pious monk,
No man sent from above,
Valentine preached to us all
Of earthly-heavenly love.
Poem with probability = 0.973144527083
When it comes to the lutz,
I'm just a complete klutz,
And I can't turn an axel,
Because of my Paxil,
Or maybe I don't have the guts.
Poem with probability = 0.894862133512
Almost 200 years ago, Percy Shelley described today's One Percent perfectly:
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed:
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
Poem with probability = 0.893222447481
Between the big mouth and the bad hair
Between the B.S. and the bluster
Between delusion and reality
Between one ear and the other
The Trump Zone....
Poem with probability = 0.831934947289
Cur the cord.
Open your mind.
End the indoctrination
No more propaganda.
Save money
Poem with probability = 0.713574185253
Ogden Nash...
who once added
Pot is not.
Poem with probability = 0.664011709365
Not only do I use an umbrella when it's snowing -- but I alos eat pizza with a fork...
***********************************
There once was a chap from New Yawk,
Who's fashions made everyone gawk.
When snow dropped on this fella,
he grabbed his umbrella,
And of the town he was the tawk.
Poem with probability = 0.555074556473
The advice was simple:
"You've got to know when to hold 'em,
Know when to fold 'em,
Know when to walk away,
Know when to run."
It's time to run.
Poem with probability = 0.552173971881
Oh this is all humbug!
who does not like that
lustful anticipation
for the dark reds and
those hellish medium rares
arriving at your table
while you take a break and
talk of poverty in the "other world, compassion, all those good things"
But then please forget all I said and let me
lose myself in these few precious moments
this is my time, my smell and my taste
this is my identity and my choice.
but I will continue on that topic soon
enough - in anticipation waiting...
And I know you do not even get my point.
Poem with probability = 0.46992482235
microsoft needs to drop the price.
then it will be an even race.
Poem with probability = 0.425047299215
And yet you live here, Amit.
Ironic, ain't it?
Poem with probability = 0.400574556078
Candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker.
Ogden Nash or Dorothy Parker??
Poem with probability = 0.381358508942
Who will take care of you,
How'll you get by,
When you're too old to work
And too young to die?
--Joe Glazer
Poem with probability = 0.34754085962
Senator Elizabeth Warren,
Calling Senator Warren!
Poem with probability = 0.239682407653
From Fredrick Hayek Via Jerry Pournelle:
Freedom is not free.
Free men are not equal.
Equal men are not free.
Poem with probability = 0.212245247095
A February Thaw
MENU
Green market strawberries creme fraiche
Mesclun mushrooms goat cheese pears salad warmed under broiler 3 minutes
Loin of pork prunes shallots
Roasted baby carrots radish artichokes
Fifteen layer crepe cake whip cream rasberries
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