
Go live your happy
Tedium of the future
Days and days go by
Blast from the Past:
Color of boredom
I am afraid of silence
Chilling novelty
The Cracked Door – Daily Haikus
Reflections on life, the world, and society. Come explore with me.

Go live your happy
Tedium of the future
Days and days go by
Blast from the Past:
Color of boredom
I am afraid of silence
Chilling novelty

goal = 120
motivation = 15
progress = -1while(progress < goal):
progress += motivation
motivation -= 1
(I wrote my poem for today is in the programming language, Python. For anyone unsure, the trick is to calculate whether I can ever attain my goal as my motivation goes down.)
Blast from the Past (another math equation-based poem about losing motivation to reach one’s goal):
Energy(Attempt) + Initial_Progress = Progress
Wishful_Thinking – Realism = Goal
Learning = Success % Goal
Success = ProgressGoal + Learning Success = (Energy(Attempt) + Initial_Progress)Goal + Learning
Success = (Energy(Attempt) + Initial_Progress)(Wishful_Thinking – Realism) + Learning Success = (Try + (Learning – Past_Failures))(Wishful_Thinking – (Past_Failures – Learning)) + Learning
Success = (Try + (Learning – Past_Failures))(Wishful_Thinking – (Past_Failures – Learning)) + Learning Success = (Try + (Learning – Past_Failures))(Wishful_Thinking – (Past_Failures – Learning)) + Learning
Success = (Failure – Past_Failures)(Developed_Wisdom) + Learning Success = New_FailuresDeveloped_Wisdom + Learning
Success = Fail_Completely + Learning
Success = Learning_Anew

Unsure the best way
To respond, I sit there and
Name the ants I see.
Blast from the Past:
Ants are in my pants.
I need to get these stupid
Ants out of my pants.

You can no longer
Tell who was on which side:
The fallen soldiers
Blast from the Past:
The clear enemy,
The clash partitions evil
Outside of oneself

All longings for more,
Attempts for unequal mine,
Cave for all in time.
Blast from the Past:
Empires return to
Ashes from the fire of their
Own machinery

There is nothing like
Finishing work to foster
Fake finality
Blast from the Past:
To measure one’s life
In work shifts, misses all that
One’s life was meant for.

I climb the stairs
Crawling up and up each step
Yearning for the sky
Blast from the Past:
The frigid rain falls
Panting, lost the trail as I
Climb out my demons

When you tell the truth,
Why does it so often seem
To sound like a lie?
Blast from the Past:
We breathed white lies to
The blue sky but could not melt
The summer black ice.

Slowly, softly seized
Faces whose eyes stare at me
I’m an empty stage
Blast from the Past:
Staring into the
Abyss of sinister scorn
And shame seethingly

Talent for dreaming
A slumber of mysteries
Color of boredom
Blast from the Past:
Inspiration comes
From within your minds eye but
So does writer’s block.