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logical fallacy
caught in a malady
fighting his way out of a wet paper bag
you see cameron isnt a man of the people
no man is equal
hes the man you cant see through
opaque in a way the lucky few get to be
hiding behind their offshore identities
pulling the strings in a worldwide conspiracy
lurking in their murky puddle of deceit
and his dad was bent too. its the family business ffs

arcanum arcanarom, argumentum ad hominem
animal disputans, dixi.., animal bipes implume
cessante causa cessat et effectus, damnant quod non inteligunt
audiatur et altera pars, hominus libenter quod volunt credunt

multi famam, consientiam pauci verentur
boni pastoris est tondere pecus, non deglubere
bonum virum facile crederes, magnum libenter

non omnes qui habent citharam sunt citharoedi
currente calamo, cave quid dicis, quando, et cui
gigni de nihilo nihil, in nihilum nil posse reverti

*
..love always...



عرفان بن يوسف © AH 14/03/1432

'a latin verbs poem'
Deep Jun 2022
I want to give up...
my problems are
way scarier than others,
I am everything, the center,
unfavorable situations
find me like a childhood friend,

Trouble trouble everywhere
No time to live,
If I live for some days
double trouble pursue me
to outlive,

I'm Hamlet, Macbeth, Othello, King Lear
Shakespeare wrote my predicaments
six centuries earlier,
My birth was a tragedy,
I'm armored in 'hamartia', 'anagnorisis'
'peripeteia', and what not
searching my doom to
entertain few who paid to see me,
I have none neither unity of time,
or place or action,

I don't deserve this,
But
What should I do?
I have no means and measures or methods,
to raise my hand and say,
"Sir, this disgusts me, living like this doing
same task same time all day"
Count me absent since today,
I'm going never to come,

What a sick time this is,
everyone is hating everyone,
I hate everyone too,
why shouldn't I?
I'd one demand,
I want to study, but no one had money
to pay, neither family, nor state, or center,
I saw them investing in bricks and stones
I saw them collecting taxes,
But no one came,
I wanted to work no had work to offer.

So I am writing, venting off my anguish,
Okay so if you are here, I call you my confidant,
keep it a secret,
You know I am alone now
But I wasn't before, a girl I love but never
told her my feeling, why????

Yes, she is employed, she earns I do not,
I fear this, I search for work, not that
I need one, I crash on the footpath,
live on the discarded crumbs out
the big restaurant in my city,
I'm not invoking pity in you--
Argumentum ad Misericordiam--
stating just the fact sir,
I believe in "Less is MOre"
and indeed I have less and I am happy
but what troubles me is her,
Ah! it's not that easy, I've heard
they don't take seriously unemployed guys,
Yes, sir, I may be wrong, but I don't want to
take any chance,
Life is not a life sir without her,

You can judge this in the tone
after I started tak]lking about her.
I love her dearly,
But who doesn't sir?
when they are young,
KRRW Aug 2017
An anxious amortal
archnemesis
affectionately
allowing an amoral
animosity
achieve an attitudal
agressive and aversion against
any and all
annoying,
aggravating,
afflicting,
and almost annihilating
alliterations,
although all
aforementioned actions
are absolutely
artificial.



An amiable
abomination
and architectural abuse
at an alphabet achieved
after aesthetically
arranging ample
arbitrary
alternatives alone,
amounting an acclamation.



An affinity at
awkward avante-garde arts
arising at
an astronomical acceleration,
aside an archaic
argumentum ad
antiquitatem argument
awfully appraising
an atheistic and agnostic
apparition,
anthrophomorphically
alive and apparently
alright after asphyxiation,
alluding an astral authority
absolving accusations
and all allegations.



An advantageously
astute and adroit assassin
always actively
acting and assaulting
alone, ain't assisted
anyhow,
already
antiquating auxillaries
altogether.



An alliteratious afterfocus:
Aborting all anticipations.
Anticipating affirmative antagonizations.
All are alright.
Already airtight.
Adios, amigos.



Author: anonymous,
an acorn-afflicted,
assassinatrix affiliate.
attributed as Agent Argent.
Written
04 July 2016


Genre
Alliterature


Copyright
© Khayri R.R. Woulfe. All rights reserved.
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2018
oh i've had mine, several to lay claim to,
i'll go through the list,
but first i'll have to address a counter
to the psychology trinity of
consciousness, the subconscious
and the unconscious...
                           sorry, the schematic is
too rigid for me, and what once revolutionary
in the late 19th century and throughout
the 20th century... is... let's just call it stale...
meaning i have to borrow from Kant and
Heidegger...
and, what emerges, is a pseudo-paradox...

the subconscious i classify as...
   a priori i.e. from what came before...
for example... dating preferences...
you already know what you're looking
for...

hence?

consciousness i classify as...
a posteriori i.e. from what comes after...
basically ruminating on
the a priori "biases":
   or some sort of inheritance tax(ation)
of...

the unconscious, which i attribute
the posit of... argumentum a fortiori
i.e. from a / the stronger (thing)...
and the unconscious, last time i heard,
was where archetypes were born...
solidified...
          the archetypal / the primordial,
the savage intellect of
    a non-verbal language of knowledge
derived from images:
   hence... dreams are not exactly
audible, or prone to reveal writing...
movies... images... etc.

now my encounters with the police...
being stopped and searched outside
a fish bar, at night...
having walked for miles, stood beside
the bar and lit a cigarette...
a private license car pulls up...
three coppers jump out...
two women and one copper:
who was probably 5 months shy of
retirement...

- do you have any i.d. on you?
- will a bank card suffice?
- yes; where do you live?
- just around the corner, less than
2 minutes away.
- what do you have in your
back-pack?
- two bottles of wine & a bottle
of coke (i was big into my kalimotxo
at the time)
- (with tears in his eyes) so you're
just out here, having a walk a beer
and a cigarette?
- yeah, pretty much.

i was given my bank card back,
and...
            that was it...
    they took my word for it...
     maybe... compliance isn't such a bad
thing after all.

the next encounter was with two
coppers in the center of town,
drinking a beer on the bench...
    approached me and one started
a minor wrestling match with me
finally pulling the beer from my hand...
i was cautioned, but i asked:
so what are the parameters of where
i'm not supposed to drink...
oddly enough... he pulled out a map
with the desired radius...basically away
from all the pubs...
because... imagine... if everyone decided
to drink in public, a beer 3 times cheaper
than what they serve in pubs... chaos!

this next incident was the worst
(but i'll also write about the best) -
so i walk into a dark alley and start *******...
turn around and this ******* loud-mouth
starts screaming at me all about
public indecency and what not,
handcuffs me and tells me to get up...
at this point i'm kneeling and i tell him
in a soft voice that i'm tired...
he's still screaming at me like
some variant of Gny. Sgt. Hartman...
i try not to giggle...
              he really wanted me in the cell
for ******* in an alley...
so i said to him: well... it's not alley
to begin with?
some trouble, real trouble erupts
elsewhere, some bar brawl, whatever...
the handcuffs are taken off...
   and i walk back home giggling
from time to time.

out drinking, some shady bar in Seven Kings
near my old school,
a club which had carpets on the floor...
**** me... like walking on honeycomb...
warm *****... alcohol poisoning...
bus from Seven Kings to Romford...
i step off the bus and fall face flat on
the pavement...
      however many minutes or hours
later... i am woken up by a stranger
and there's also a copper crouching
over me, asking me: are you o.k.?
    head like it's been lodged up
an *** of a ******* elephant...
   yeah yeah... i'm o.k....
             do you need a ride home?
(the ****?!) really? can you?
    sure... jump in...
                     that was the first time i rode
home, not in a taxi, but in a police
van cell...
             fun experience...

point being, in Poland police officers
are not called pigs, rather?
            psy - dogs...
   and Police vans?
   you know, with the cages an all that
that's required to transfer criminals?
  suki....        ******* -
   which you already know is a mating term
for female dogs;
    
                           k                        
           ß                               ú

    ū                                               í

           i                                k
                            ß
­

now that's a nice diacritical variation
thingamajig.

— The End —