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Mohamed Amer  Oct 2011
Aporia
Mohamed Amer Oct 2011
Books covered with dust on the shelves of my life
Words omitted, Forgotten or not accompli
Birds sang no more in the storms of deceit
No leaves left in the branches of the Memory tree

Schizophrenic attitude from lost meanings and definitions
Spending a whole life in delusion or fake Ideas
People I spent my life with, turned into marionettes
Hopeless faces and diminished hopes discoursing Aporia

In Sickness
In Dementia
In Eternal Fight
In Hypomania
Lost
In Insomnia
What else
In Amnesia
Who am I?
In Dysthymia

Visions of dear, lost in the addiction to smoke and beer
Now the glass is empty, I am Paranoid
Walking in the streets, where to go? Just following my feet
Everyone is staring in disdain, I am Schizoid
Natural Disasters, time passes by like it never passed by

Dreams like reality, where is it? Where is Adam and Eve?
Nobility, loyalty, and all this nonsense of history
Now the time for thieves and the aces in their sleeves

Don’t look at me
In Scopophobia
Leave me alone
In Ochlophobia
Stop your war
In Hoplophobia
What’s doomsday?
In Theophobia
Who am I?
In Phobophobia

Now what happened, happened
I don’t dare to change
I surrender to the glowing eyes of the Sun
In the daring waves of the grain fields
No other chance in the middle of the symmetry

Run Away Run Away
Dare you to stay
Double Dare You
Laughter
Run Away Run Away
Dare you to stay
No Way

Where will you go? There is always a horizon in the end of the day
This thin line of endless misery will never fade
Close your eyes and you lay, as you surrender to failure
Open your eyes.

Arbela
Metaurus
Tours
Baghdad
Jerusalem
Hiroshima

Wait there is a light coming through that hole
Is there a crack in this mighty wall?
Shall I look through or will I ruin it all?

Dare You to Look
Double Dare You
Laughter
I will look and see through history
Look and see who my ancestors were
Dare you to look
Wait, I will double dare you

Khan
Vlad
***
Dada
Sheridan

Digging graves
Writing names
Changing fates

I believe in you
No longer a Human
Depraved of emotions
Dare you to stand in my face
Double dare you
I will run away
Dare you to Say
Dare you to Stay

What is the point of saying?
You **** like breathing, Lord of the Flies
You are an anathema
Genocide, all men are slaves

What is the point of staying?
You pour the pain like rain from the skies
You are an artist
In the Art of **** and depravity

Symmetry, who sets the scales of balance?
Apathy, who will care more than me?
Futility, why do you set a course without reason?
Sanctuary, where is the shelter?  Never existed anyway

Come with me across the ocean of suffering
When we land you will live forever
In peace and innocent laughter

Fool me again, and what about the memories of hurt
Leave my hand, all what I had, was falling from the edge
You have no glimpse of an idea where you’re taking me
All those promises of faith and immortality

Wait,
A Moment of clarity
A Degree of Sanity
A Victim of Society
A Beautiful Monstrosity
A Nocturnal Supremacy
A Diminished Eternity
A Puzzle of Ecstasy
A Ballet of Tragedy
A Tide of Tranquility
A Motivation for Obscenity
A Divine Eulogy
A Celestial Obituary

Before I gave up on Him, He Gave up on me
Who Am I? Who is He?

Dare you
Double Dare you
Take your Daring Away

The Art of **** and Depravity
Faith and Immortality
Lord of The Flies
Darius and Alexander
Khan and the end of the last civilization
Dracula
Amerinds and our Forefathers
Salahaldin and a million corpses for the sake of salvation
Ruhollah

In the end I am to blame
Yes this is the price of fame
The Infamous human
The Beast of Mystery
The Bringer of Misery
The Vandal of Humanity
‘I am…’ 'Or am I’? Who can say?
‘A posteriori’ leads the way
For the extra and the ordinary
Axiomatic sway,
In the gravity of corollary,
‘A priori’ interplay
Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation,
As the innocence of dissonance delay.
Practicing semantic contemplation,
In willfully prevenient interpolation,
Civilly disobedient in expediently seeming disarray,
Forecasts in vague extrapolation
Contrasts the millennial contagion
Already underway,
Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves,
To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves,
A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves,
Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves,
Inflating linguistics in acrobatic raves,
A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves.
The probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates,
An apperceived inquirer of qualitative states,
Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates.
Challenging aporia as epistemic oscillates,
Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates,
Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates.
An escaped prisoner from depressive disillusion,
Of an introspective extrovert who finds solace in confusion,
The personable recluse fighting an illusion
Breaking down the nuances of every institution.
Calculating consequence as time goes to infinity
Revolutionary commonsense of principal utility,
An opinionated adversary,
to the realist without evidence,
Theorizing in futility,
Stipulating every sense leading to the virility of the pretense that dominates community.
Divergently converging all the efforts we’ve personified,
Inadvertently submerging old traditions that unethically were codified,
Hastening the urgency for purging that which cannot be modified through the merging of the certainty that will no longer coincide,
Stationing the levies to finally stem the tide,
Of periodic enmities disguised to be necessities so blatantly deified.
Observing moral sentiments, perched upon eternity,
As consequential regiments are expounded universally,
To unstratify the residents indiscriminately
And identify quantum elements spiritualistically,
Changing collective behavior individually,
Socializing constructs in joint ventured logo therapy.
This is an edited, expanded, expounded, confounded, reverberation of Linguistic Illusions to Probable Solutions written months back.
Joe Jr  Mar 2017
Advanced Aporia
Joe Jr Mar 2017
Ruminating epoché,
‘I am…’ ‘Or am I’? Who can say?
‘A posteriori’ leads the way
For the extra and the ordinary
Axiomatic sway
In the gravity of corollary,
‘A priori’ interplay.
Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation,
As the innocence of dissonance delay
Initiatives imperative consolidation,
Civilly disobedient in expedient disarray.
Practicing semantic contemplation,
Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves,
Forecast in vague extrapolation,
To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves,
A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves,
Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves,
Inflating the linguistics of silent enclaves,
A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves.
Probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates,
The Apperceived inquirer of qualitative states,
Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates.
Challenging aporia as epistemic oscillates,
Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates,
Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates.
Off that windy bay wharf,
where old poets speak to lost walkers,
you dove into aporia

Morality the highest myth
dreaming conquered by Capital
shelter replaced by property
the immaterial, theft by sophistry

a bay carved from jade,
crescent moon.
horizon cradling distant storms

waves upon waves accelerating towards the shore.
the first step to knowledge
is to know you know nothing
the second step to knowledge
is to follow the first
the third step to knowledge
is to keep on going
until you know your steps
go somewhere
JDK  Apr 2013
Aporia
JDK Apr 2013
Everything will be alright
These frightening thoughts won't live past tonight
You'll wake up in the morning and feel . . .
Whole again

So when you feel that noose getting tight
When the shadows obstruct your view of the light
Just lay down and go to sleep
And when you wake
Everything will be bright

This moment you're stuck in
Will not last forever
There will be a tomorrow
And it'll make you feel better

But there's a chance that it won't
The trick is to hope
If you go to bed knowing that you'll feel empty tomorrow
Then don't

You'll wake up in the morning and realize
That you have no friends
You'll wake up in the morning and think
That you have to start all over again
You'll wake up in the morning and wish
That you'd rather be dead

But still everything will be alright
You'll grow accustomed to this empty life
You'll wake up in the morning and feel . . .
That hole again

So when that fiend comes to trap you
And you struggle ensnared
And you scream out your soul to find somebody who cares
You'll hear your own echo come back
And realize that nobody's there

Nothing ever will be alright
You've ****** up real good
Permanently this time
Spend forever in the void to repent for this crime

But this time is an illusion
And this void is made up
I am cause I am
And that one thought is enough
Everything will be alright
Because everything is what you're made of
Hope
On
The counters of poetry
I dock and lock myself
Then
I scope on the bottles of liquors seductively
And spellblind by their syllables
I took the shakers and hybrid
The Similes
The Onomatopeia's
The Nemesis'
The Near-Rhymes
And The Triadic-Lines
Then I gulp fourteen shots of Sonnets
From my paper-glass
And glug a paradox
Or a foil-sigh
Trice,
The knots
Bundling my eloquence
Will exonerated itself
And torpidity will cuff my consciousness
And the droplets remains in my paper- glass
Will impel me
To quest for myriad of them

I'm not drunk!
I'm not drunk!
I'm not drunk!
I
Will slur
With half an eye open
As if the other is broken
Stock on a comedy chair

Then
When the
Limbs of time tread
Will I rush to the counter
Like the athletes at Olympia
And hybrid
The Blank-verses
The Alliterations
The Limericks
The Litotes
The Aporia's
And The Dysphemism's
And
Gulp countless
Yet measured shoots
Of Ballad,with my paper-glass
And unravel the oratories
Of sacred secrets,eclectic enchantment and regrettable reflexes
Aside,or injects the world
With my rugged pins of eruditions
Bestowed in me by the liquors of poetry

I'm not drunk!
I'm not drunk!
I'm not drunk!
I
Will slur
With half an eye open
As if the other is broken
Stocked on a comedy-chair

Again
I will rush
To the counter,and hybrid
The Exaggerations
The Personifications
The Imageries
And The Caesura's
And
Gulp uncounted shoots
Of Epic's from my paper-glass
And
Eulogise my steam and wit
Yet,I'm drunk
And deeply drunk wholly
By a might that mortify me so much
That I've become a slave
In the awe of my servitude

Now and then
Will I weep and wail terribly
Each morning,each noon,and each night
For the great demise of myself
And for an emancipation
From the perpetual counter-cells poetry
I'm drunk,and deeply drunk by poetry.

Deeply Drunk
©Historian E.Lexano
The liquors of poetry has stain my tissues
Misunderstood.

I asked,
Not for you.
A question that tore this apart,
An answer could have saved this heart.

I was decided against.

Why didn't I know what to ask?
Why didn't I know not to ask?
STUPIDITY.

In the world,
I am a dreamer,
Torn between what I was,
And what I will never be.
Being "nice" or "beautiful,"
But is beauty all that matters?

I don't feel it:
No beauty,
No intelligence,
No worth.
Wanted:
The only thing I can never be.


Later...
You took back a word.
You claimed you lied.
Which one?
Was it the promise or the answer?
Or is it a false apology?

Flawless my acting was,
Against everything I felt that day.
The pieces of my heart are small,
And it will never amount to enough.
Hopeless when a friendship turns bitter--

--I shouldn't have asked.
I should have been more introverted.
I should not have relied on my instincts.



The wind blows,
Teasing my hair
And drying my tears,
But all I think about is lost...

...Was your answer the lie?
Aporia: Professing to be at a loss as to what to say, where to begin, or how to express something; true or feigned doubt or deliberation about an issue

— The End —