Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mateuš Conrad May 2016
i'll be honest, i lost the second volume  of Kant's critique
in the house, i lost the rhythm of reading the first volume,
but then i found the second volume
like a breadcrumb, where i left off:
the thesis v. antithesis section,
accurately
                 antimonia of pure reasoning
(the fourth conflict between
                   transcendental ideas)
cf. the only dualism allowed is a bilingualism,
no mono-lingual dualism is verifiable,
it's too abstract and therefore non-practical /
non-practisible - missing adjective
            i.e. without having an allowance
    to be practised, indeed almost every single
word cannot transverse all grammatical classification,
a zebra cannot be a noun, a verb, an adjective,
an adverb etc., hence what i tried to experiment
with was whether a mono-linguistic system
could practice dualism purely, no, it couldn't,
mono-linguistic systems abstracted dualism
without a useful process within them,
the whole good and evil, chaos and order dichotomy,
such dichotomy that never approached a dialectics,
hence mono-linguistic systems could not convene
dualism, because they were mono-linguistic and
not bilingual...
in reference to translating
                                            the fourth conflict between
                   transcendental ideas,
i.e. czwarty konflikt miedzy ideami transcendentalnymi,
English stress of articles / vectors, meaning
a point be made, or the point can be made,
one is wishy-washy wave of the hand (dispersion),
the other is definite, microscopic, vector
from co-ordinates (0, 0) leading to (23, 12) of the (x, y)
graph; i went among the Celts and learned to write
drunk and be happy;
                                      ironic though as to why
Darwinism gained such popularity given the English
use of indefinite and definite articles: a-      -the    
end up with some sort of ism.
there's a warning about the fourth antimony, and there's
also this poem, indeed i was bemused by the antimony
i'm not surprised that he didn't understand the narrative too,
narrating philosophically is a hard craft,
you can't really engage with dialectics, cartwheels sure,
ouroboros (snake eating itself) sure,
it's hard to reach the Pre-Socratics, but almost every
philosopher after Socrates is doing just that...
to internalise dialectics (i'd rather criticise the lack
of diacritical marks in English), and that's why
philosophy compared to standard literature of fiction
and novel can be termed pure, narration.
it is pure narration, the practice of -
hence off character study, hence hardly memorable,
but an antidote to what the present system of education
prescribes the young: dates (1066 a.d., 1945, 1914),
or Pythagoras... qwen the queen was born (on purpose, and
why? exactly, q / queue, why / i, etc.)... it's like they're
taking a test on becoming Britain's residential candidates
with questionnaires that no one talks about in pubs
over pints. i mean the warning against the fourth antimony
in the antithesis ends up stating poetically:
both proposals were sound. depending on how one
peeled the vantage point, from which want came to
observe the lunar motion.
Farah Taskin Jul 2021
The heady perfume of the
Arabian Attars
is
in the air!
A lunar litter
brings Eid
Antimony sulphide
of the downcast eyes
and the pinkish nails
have been painted with henna


Eid is a glorious gift
Bliss is blossoming
The blessings are blooming


The fragrant roses
and the white jasmines
are being elated by
a joyous colour
of the festivity
The nameless
nightingales
are singing the paeans
We're being showered
with Salams
Eid Mubaraks
are echoing
The cheerful children
are being
over the moon
Eid is marvellously nice
and we sacrifice.
Eid has been delightful since my childhood:)
Mateuš Conrad Dec 2016
it's scary what people want to hear,
i feel, nothing at all, to be honest,
whenever i think of fame
i feel all famous people speaking the words:
don't become even by our standards moderates...
szlafrok: bathrobe -
              szuja: lizard-like-homeless person -
then again chattering ratty too -
does that mean: if i write i'll
get a penny for a structure where a brick is
worth just as much to the letter, the word
           or the line or the paragraph?
                  cukier: sugar...
   for every brick i'll get a penny's worth?
      writing discourages you from dreaming...
only the most adapted
                   who get encouraged by
   advertisement and who fake writing will ever get
the technicolour coat of Joseph...
         writing erodes your perspective of dreams,
it actually censors your ability to do so...
    i hear them, make novels from their body-language...
        and get an itch... nothing finicky... just
barring without baritone...
      poet's alphabet st. - barring without baritone...
antinomy of anecdote... false impression memorisation,
nothing rubric bound nothing alphabetical,
         nothing Pythagorean...
      antinomy... and there was me thinking of
antimony...                  there's no cascade of the sound
encoding of b or of a...
    there's the alphabet... and then there's
the dictionary... na na mmm, ma ma nun..
                    so cool with it, fit-bit....
      or should i claim you a toyo-bot?
           a ******* Hamleys' jack-in-the-box
     chuckles?
            either way... it's all a strategic **** -
or a macaque - or mà-cá-qé!
         herald the surgeon!
             grave a in the first syllable?
a delay... let's term yhwh as surd invocations -
           mà! (and yes, exclamation marks
are part of the necessary progress -
   unless you'd prefer anti-German anti-compound
allocation of a word to be turned into syllable mince...)
         mà! alternatively that's non-ambiguous -
what's ambiguous is the second syllable...
   mà!... cà!     màcà!        it's almost like holding-off
*******...          màcà!
      and then there's the qé!        or for optical reasons
as well as for reasons for the priestly monopoly
written as macaque - my-khaki-haka...
  (haka is a dance in rugby by the new zealanders,
   and khaki is diarrhea brown, diluted brown) -
   it's almost Spanish in a sense, huh?!
   well, because it's not exactly queue -
  or: que(h)? i.e. qweh?
well yes, it's a monkey, a tiny little bonsai
of a gorilla... cute... funny... loves tea-bags
and sugar... great company on a hot Kenyan night,
gets pestered with slingshots by the courtesan
   "bodyguards" of a tourist hanky-panky free whiskey...
  the time those kenyan entertainer girls
came up to me i sorta wished to play the
white-guy-****-history-joke...
stood my ground, went to sleep on one of the lounge
chairs one night... could have been stolen by pirates...
and i kinda wished it, but it didn't happen...
   still, the application of diacritical marks to
define syllables... the grave mark above vowels is
a bit like "holding back"...
         for some reason i first wrote mà-cá-qé...
but i realised... the avalanche only comes with
the acute marking above eh!....
        grave markings means restriction, a holding back...
and by this i mean that when the acute stress is
added, no number of optically adequate spellings
can erase it...
     in this case qé for what's encoded as -que -
   and still the four surds appear whether invited or
uninvited - softened laugh, eh? as in the asphyxiating
form of breathing, and then relaxed: ha ha ha ha!
       then again, i'm wrong,
they call them macaque: ma-ca-qac....
         so as a good revisionist does:
                grave and acute without a macron:
      má-cà-qàc - ma-cac-cac - not ma... ca-que!
   macaque!          Fawlty Towers and Mánuèl...
i know... nothing - hairspray romance,
and a horse called dragonfly...
   macaqué! olé!              
                          mácáquè -
    for the love of u - or parabola...
                 truth be told? i'll never know!
why? because no one taught us the rules of how
or when to apply such demands!
   let alone semicolons or commas...
                   macaque - barbarism sentenced to:
ma       ca              qak
                or simply my kayak...
**** me... it's still a monkey whether you like it or
not taking a **** and calling that chocy part of
its inverted intestines' toad-stool.
  let's just call it a mácàq monkey... because
the -ue suffix is just getting unbearable, like
an umbrella unfolded in one's **** -
   and applying diacritics to a suffix of pure-vowels
is beyond missing an ******, and making
rationale (the part where you miss stating an olé -
the part where rational is elongated into rationál
or the non-diacritical addition of -e)....
and then they worried why people never punctuated
correctly... maybe because people never applied
diacritical marks that they went beyond,
and didn't punctuate correctly?
                       humpty-dumpty hmm hmm:
                   eggs St. Benedict's, and a falafel Sunday!
me? trying to invoke a vocab that transcends
the ******* cool, however condescending i can be,
without trying or eating rye bread to boot,
    and then wear a balaclava calling it a Gucci neckwear,
drinking rather than throwing Molotovs.
Yazad Tafti Mar 2022
hy heart unraveled stitch by stitch only to leave a bare unspindled flake aggregated miniwheat like architecture

a fragile graphite layered scultputre precariously placed on a display case in the center of a slipknot mosh pit

people = **** and people = heartbreak

tip
15
30
46.6
90 degrees

and a collapse a smash a new abstract piece entitled

just as a 18th century mid roman vase were to shatter
no amount of super glue could restore this ****
no amount of super glue was meant to
it was never meant to (glue just ain't that super)

and if it were doped and galvanized in a bit of antimony for strength and support
but your touch is truly my favourite ash charred expansion of arsenic
antimony can be used to increase hardnees kinda of alloys
Olivia Kent May 2013
Pastel painted charming lady,
In pretty silken frock,
Great minds,
In mind's meeting space,
Words dressed in lace,
Antimony coated,
Elemental,

When I'm with you,
'I love you',
When I'm not I don't,
So much,

Leave your space without disgrace,
To write more fervently,
You and I both,
Imagination's fed!
Rations given,
Tender passions blessed,
Etched messages written,
In black on white,
By poets via pens!
Writing poet messages,
With such abundant might!

By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Aniq Ahmad Aug 2018
In the middle of the Roman empire
And under the Cesar's throne
No one thought of a story bein overblown

As Pompeii lost his wife and hated Cesar
Cesar got betrayed, killed Pompeii
That was common tragic teaser

But what unfolded the truth?
As the words came out of Cleopatra
Cesar ****** and hooked

But that was too mainstream no?
She was just bound to love him
Cuz she had no support for her own

Cesar, killed by politics and forgotten
Anthony his commander
Took the survey and went Egypt often

The women that he ****** had no honor
A devil in form of a *****
Just some good clothes and venal

Anthony put on the Egyptian antimony
Found love in Cleopatra
Left that *****, filled with insanity

Then as he was hated for loving foreign
Octavian lost faith
And headed for killing the fallen

Anthony didn't wanna die as a traitor
Stabbed himself
Wore the king's robe as  dictator

Cleopatra saw that and cried
She bit herself by snake
And later died

Chaperones picked both up
Sat them on their thrones
Romans came and were blown
Guido Orifice Dec 2016
“The hottest love has the coldest end.”
-Socrates

You were there. Like stardust ever dancing in the light as if infinity swirls to you. Your existence declines my being. You waived all presences, defying the mnemonics of what qualifies existence.

You were there—not now.

Before, we were strangers looking at some abyss. After, we are strangers excited of what the future holds for both of us. In between, we are still strangers cursing all pains stinging our hearts.

Time inflicts its greatest wound: recollection. Malt ferments. Soul dies. Mind breaks down. Bubbles in beers imploded to every motion of the hand swaying, wishing it never touched you. Dreams stitched to rags given to wipe dusts and rusts. Time betrayed us, then and again. You were there but not now. Time cursed the being. Time stabbed us causing my heart to burn.

If only I can love you without time minding us all.

Atoms fall. They swerve a little, says Epicurus. Repulsion with others creates the world. That repulsion is a lasting encounter.

What holds that philosophy to be true is antimony. What holds us after all is just an illusion.

When I stumble upon old things finding some boxes, I remember you. When I see your picture in an old frame, forgetting becomes a sickness.

Is there a pill that can selectively erase your fading silhouette in my memory? Confession: I took that pill long ago. My mind fabricates immunity.

You were there in the horizon standing, holding an umbrella, ready to swerve from the rain that once made our love so cold and true.

I was there.

That night, the rain substituted to a poet’s tears.
I take antimony from your black eyes to write love odes
It makes me to appreciate beauty with all its beauty codes
My life is nothing , it is what helps me to write episodes
Love is in alluring mood to portray its wonderful modes

My love let me take you in eyes to sleep under eyebrows
Your enchanting beauty touches my heart in love rows
Let us sail to eternity with open mast and with all prows
My heart is always busy with you and it never ever avows

Let us be on the road of progress just to be hand in hand
Let me collect all colors of flowers to make sweet garland
My love has its own trend while your beauty its own brand
The moment your beauty has touched me I am not on land

Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow
Your beautiful eyes covered with antimony
Instigates me in love then ask for simony
Your rosy cheeks oh my sweet honey
This situation warrants a grand ceremony

I am enthralled by you by the scene
Which makes me more and more keen
Touch of class what it may mean
Those eyes have never ever been seen

I don’t know why I’m lost in you
But love is cherished through and through
We are one in love and never ever two
With warmth of heart I intend to pursue

Sweetness of style and grace with innocence
The day I saw you I lost sense
Without you life seems tense sentence
You are my queen and I am your prince

Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow
Bring me antimony to
paint my eyes on some pottery


the Egyptians did it and
so can I.

In the twenty third century when most have forgotten me
there'll be some who'll remember me and others who might mention me and my eyes on the pottery.

If I kneel to cross my heart
I will still die
will be a part of the
conundrum

the pendulum will swing on and they
will still paint eyes on
the
effigies of me

and I go back to where
I belong
to the canyons in the mountains
to the valleys and the streams that flow
to the places that I love
and know

we all do in the end.
antimony makes the sick
quick silvered but slow
and off we go,
arsenic in the fast lane.

First prize to old blue eyes
I don't regret and I bet he
doesn't either

second prize
tied,
split between
what is and isn't seen.

I've been to Oscar's and
he's been to mine,

The blind man fitting blinds
can see
(that's an old joke )
but
no smoke without fire
makes John a dull sack

Getting back to Saturday night
I should be having a beer and
later a fight
but
that was years ago before
I knew the value of values

I choose sedentary as a
complimentary medicine
for laziness,
available at pharmacies, across the seas and over the counter.


That's your lot and not a lot to it
but I've done my bit
you
do yours.
Austin Reed May 2020
A clever jest; May,
Blooming trees and fierce snow squalls...
Such antimony!

— The End —