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Mateuš Conrad May 2016
i've actually reached a zenith of my use of language, the overstated early use of humour... paradoxically it's also a nadir of language, foremost i blame it on psychological emphasis of certain words without clear grammatical patterns of casual interference / usage, which stemmed from philosophy's avoidance of grammatical words as useful short cuts... and poetic laconic shoving near millimetre associations kindred of the synonymous categorical: dog, cat, tree, fig, apple... nouns. i have a reached a limit having attempted to create a geometry with a- (indefinite / without "articulation" / existence / or simply pluralism) and the (definite articulation / existence / or simply monotheism, index finger pointing), and the prefix in-, ascribed to an illogical categorisation of infinity and infinitude as inclusive nouns... where the former attracts the indefinite article, and the later attracts the definite article, most commonly example with stars, space, time and insects, but not man: e.g. ever hear of a famous bee named Newton? no, me neither. i just noticed that poetry over-philosophised itself by using grammatical terms in that near-synonymousness of d'uh and that philosophy avoided using these grammatical terms of categorisation, fearing a demented disintegration of casual speech, as near to quantum physics as language of humanities could be approached with: the disappearing act of hope (noun, +) and reappearance of it as hopelessness (adjective, although still ~noun, therefore still +), meaning being hopeless (verb, although ~adjective, and now attached to dark matter - / negative): hence the many sensitivities over crude vocabulary, hence the kept church Latin and the lost humour of ****** Latin.*

e.g.

newspapers are depressing, i know, on pages 34 & 35
there's a picture of an orang utan posing in an
auguste rodin pose of the thinker: eyes close together never
ageing of a Down Syndrome Dorian Grey,
hairstyle of an Elton John, though: headlines surroudning
the picture read things stuff that horror movies are
not intelligent to reveal, i.e. mob rule; horror movies treat
the individual as the ultimate menace, they never care
to make cinematic eloquences with individual's
shadow, of those around him: Jesus herding his sheep
who's prime expression is ****** white hands drenched
in blood unable to doubt, therefore only able to deny,
and what a poverty of lying ingenuity
denial is... one man tennis hitting a brick wall...
people reserve more doubt at having hit a tennis ball
against a wall than  denying it... doubt is a
dual-carriageway... so much self in doubt among
others than there is self-consciousness in denial
among others... denial is a cul de sac alley...
the mirror wished to remain hidden for fear
of realisation... denial is a faking of innocence /
         doubt is a faking of knowledge -
childish-like later: oh! misinformation corrected!
like electrons not having orbits but existing in
quantum clouds! former high-school teaching,
later university teaching! born 1952, died 1989:
now you see me, now you don't, electron-quick
hands of magicians. but... but... but
you can't deny both infinitudes (limits)
of your unitary vector (ego)...
sure you can deny the infinitude (algebraic
pinpoint 1) and deny the finitude (algebraic
pinpoint 2), but you can't deny two infinitudes,
i.e. you're either god or nothing...
as you can't deny two finitudes,
i.e. you're either memorable or worth forgetting;
nor can you deny an infinitude and doubt
the finitude - although you deny the finitude
with a chance excavation of infinitude as an
example o... Finnegans Wake does that to you...
hence the common stance is denying;
imagine the Cartesian equation plagued by denial,
i deny, therefore i'm not...
my writing will not reach popular appeal because
it wishes to not disturb, not not uproot a perfectly
happy man from a simple method he can perfect
and challenge genius over a complex method
which it can only imperfect.
i'm not going to forgive the nature of my 26 surds
kept in the optic with the double-surd of H in language
spoken, but your critique of my cognitive use of language,
which is purely optic and not in the least care phonetic
belongs to me, i know my conversational language
where i disengage from having to engage with all
the pronouns, as existentialism proved itself pedantic to
be defining itself by, using all pronouns to "ditto" out
the one single pronoun, simply the ego, and therefore
to produce f(denial) = "ego"; f(x)
  h
     x
        h
                             function of two truths
                             f(x) = "ego" or Freudian theory
                                        of blame it on the superego
                                        or blame it on the id...
what, matchsticks not good enough for your arabic
complications?! you got oil, i have wood,
stop coming to europe for the summer to burn
rather than spend your precious oil! FRY *******!
FRY LIKE AN AUSTRALIAN BARBECUE DERBY
OF BARBIE STUCK IN A BURQA!
Sehar Bajwa Sep 2018
And when you feel I’m slipping lightyears away
i will remind you how my world still
revolves around you.
i will brush out your dark holes with
constellation kisses as we lay counting stars.

And when you feel lonely
i will traverse galaxies to be by your side
as i share the secrets of my universe with yours.
i will hold you closer than my gravity will permit me
and I will crush all the space debris that dare look your way fragment by fragment
as I heal your craters with moondust.

in the darkness of your eclipses,
I will wait in the shadows to watch
You rise again.
We will waltz under meteor showers
and wish upon shooting stars as we dwarf Jupiter
With our amorous infinitudes.

when you feel vacuum within you
I will carve you a supernova heart
giftwrapped in spaceflowers
To fill the void.

I'll love you to Eris and back
As you reinvent a Big Bang for me
Where I started with nothing and suddenly have everything.
a universe too small for my love
Left Foot Poet Aug 2017
for I work by day, but live by night*

not an axiom, a formula, for success and wealth,
not a suggestion, not seeking a reaction,
it is a plain as night
fact,
still don't recommend it as a way of life

but if the shoe/life fits
wear it,
even as no sleeps. speeds up your arrival
at the Grand Central Terminal

in black eyed circles, endless pointless future worrying,
in bad poems writ after midnight after midnight
when the quiet
keeps you company - a friend that asks for nothing

(but an occasional mention in one of the poems born
in the delivery room of the dark)

but through the nighttime writing escapades
I am more than renewed,
a born again human
with a covenant, armed to the teeth,
drinking his dis-owned fluids and juices,,
spilling out as staccato words,
ha!
splitting his infinitudes

if you had foreseen this as my future fate,
a lonely human up all night,
with the night and words making his
holy triumvirate, I may have thought
there are worse ways to prepare
for the silence that comes after
the no more arrives
and we depart
ensemble,
ensemble

8/31/17
2:28am

— The End —