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Mateuš Conrad Dec 2016
i write about these things,
because in all honesty?
they don't matter to me.

you can call it assimilation, then you'll call it
   i'm making a worded salad, so it doesn't really matter
whether i speak the language or not,
being native you'll tell me i have to be a diacritically
riddled over-laden version of you  nativeness...
you'll basically tell me i have to speak a worse-off
native than you didn't bother to grasp...
after that? i turn Sioux and scalp you.
  because that's what you deserve.
i could have come up against you
in the thick of night and turned you into a kebab,
and do you think anyone would have
cared? is it one thing to assimilate,
and another to assimilate into a skin-head culturalism
implosive that's brimming to the full with your patriotic
hopes as being acted upon? i can speak the perfect
English and still be more welcome in Scotland
than in Kent... but that will not not do,
not until i shave my hair off,
grow a beard, and runsack my skin
with quasi-Hindu ******* tilts...
           and when this foreign legion
of Swedish journalists bemoan why
their **** ain't where their heart is?
have you seen the *sienkiewicz"
trilogy of *potop
? you want history?
how about: in the beginning
there was an invading horde of Swedes
that tried to topple the proto-commonwealth
of Poland and Lithuania...
  even how much i cared to learn the tongue:
i'd be left belittled by ugly accenting
stereotypes...
                          i'd be Islam of drunk,
while the engineers would be left saying:
and unto us amphetamines,
and Mamelukes were never Egyptian...
because Egypt was what Egypt desired...
a quasi thingy... then i turned my ear
to Macbeth, and earned 70 years
and a Spartacus' worth of ears to my nearing 31...
                   i turned to Macbeth the theatricals
silences, and let, the music... play.
i can learn the language, but i am expected
to push the natives from a career of criminality,
i am expected to become the criminal,
i've learned the language beyond the natives,
what else?
   to learn the debasement of the natives akin to
every other culture? am i to become the
criminal statistic of the ruling political elite?
so they can "know" but that they merely quote?
   i owe my ode to Macbeth,
for Hamlet can become tiresome aligned with
Sisyphus in hell...
              we'll have builders by the end of
the debate...
     how much more do i have to learn?
is language not enough? then velkommen Syriac!
               is it not enough that i know the tongue?
must i be jeopardised by using it,
and say that universality is to be excluded,
simply because it does not abide by an utopian
ideal of pure English sprechen pure English?
         there are scapegoats to be festering upon
the spike that's readied to be fried...
but come on... is this deutschesprechen?
              it can't be! if i pretend to be Malcolm...
you pretend to be Duncan,
but nonetheless the speech makes us both truant
ghouls and guises receding
   into the demands of operatic - kindred to
Lady Macbeth (a protestant, or should she be
known catholic: McBeth) -
      as Glasgow religion of the coliseum of the times
testifies... celt and ranger... green & white vs. blue and
   black...
     lady mc.: what beast was 't thou,
        that make you break this enterprise with me?
(no matter if you killed a man, of whatever
stature he be worth, what beast are you to suddenly
cage my heart, when having agreed to make my heart
and feeling thus: storm the heights of Ben Nevis,
and descend as angrily as a woman might please,
  and with her whim, descend from the mountain
as if a mountain descends into desert?! what
courage, ye! to throw a woman into such woe
and leave a man's promise, the very least
a man can bestow upon this earth: but a woman
yet to come to correct!) so thus the elvish Anglican
was spoken, and thus continued:
- when you durst do it, then you were a man;
   and, to be more than what you were, you would
be so much more the man. nor time, nor place,
did then adhere, and yet you would make both...
  from his boneless gums...
nor have i understood Hamlet as the model student,
the puppet if not the mere mascot...
for the Freudian couch... then again i navigated
past Kant with Macbeth,
having yet to complete reading the critique...
       i took to maturity, and said
what others wished upon: there is true
adult agony in a well versed poetry...
       more so than adolescence in what's deemed
a maturation process...
             perhaps i should have served the concern
for Hamlet and laid bare upon the psychoanalytic
couch... but Macbeth: of said
sepia as copper, so said of woad as in aquamarine
surrender... led me to cite...
          for i was never bound to own the tongue
i would acquire... i was told:
   well, hello there, dishonourable squire...
ah... the queen's majestic airs...
    will make any Irishman desist from the republic's
gaze...
             and sloth in a respectably believed state
of consolidatory affairs under the kites of Yates...
   but never you mind the Silesian consumed
by former guardian of the coalmine...
or what L'vov wouldn't say in Ukrainian...
mind you Nevada and Lasso Vegan...
mind you that...  for that speaks biblical studies!
i will never assimilate, in that i will never be
allowed to own this tongue...
            and if i am allowed to own it...
i am but a furry-faced-bloat of faked pleasantries
   and closet nationalism...
        i wish i could own this language as if i
might own a typewriter... but i'm apparently
not welcome, by the pseudo-irish who
mediate the English assertion of the understanding
of the dover sieve...
                 ******* leprechaun mafia...
  paddy paddy oo too the butch-faced freckled girl...
   it's as if the Italians have Manhattan,
    and the Corke conglomerate prescribed
everyone a pint of Guinness rather than iron-pill
supplements...
                 well: and so the Titanic bellows
out an oceanic morse code of tantrums on
the accordions.
                      which sorta soothed the mermaids
digest contemplation for the vegan accomplishment
of shrimp... and over seafoods...
being digested.
         now i'm apparently not speaking English,
or i'm speaking English and i don't understand it,
or i'm understanding how i'm speaking English,
and how i'm supervising all things uranium
                               bound hallucinogenic...
or how, even though urbanity took off and
the countryside disappeared, you think you'll never
meet peasants in smirk attire to condescend you
gravity toward theatre or opera...
     but peasants are reall... you can recognise a peasant
the minute they don't recognise you insulting them;
it's a bit like telling a very witty joke...
         i don't get witty jokes because i tend to treat them
like a siegl heigl salutation...
   and i respect the memory of Octavian...
                                 it's the wittiness that comes into
contact with actually not telling a joke: and people
end up laughing... that's when you spot the peasants.
    so you see... i speak the ****** language,
but i'm sorta denied the access for drinking a cosmopolitan
at a Shoreditch pub...
                        which makes all arguments
for learning the language obsolete in terms of gaining
a "fair" advantage... and this is European to
European lingo...
        didn't i ask that Swedish journalist
ingrid carlqvist to watch the trilogy, including
potop about the war between Sweden and
the Polish-Lithuanian commonwealth, and ask her
about what's to be culturally inherited?
**** me... maybe i'm sleepwalking...
                     dodo zombified or something...
                                     oh wait...
                                         if ever there was a regressive
reparation policy in a country:
i'd hear: guilt from western countries taking the bribes
of the Marshall Plan...
      and overt pride from countries post-world-war ii
being prescribed communism, as a way to rebuild
their nations: for fear of having to commit to
hara kiri... or *******...
                                         as said: becoming
the easily bribed convenience...
                              the concept of assimilation
within the construct of selective migration has transcended
the mere acquisition of language...
  acquiring a language isn't enough...
         the reverse policy of colonialism is hushed-down
ethnic cleansing...
          which goes beyond language per se,
since it goes beyond dialect ex lingua...
              it is a necessitation of also acquiring
national stereotypes of unengaged in dialectics...
it is one thing to rhetorically assert a need to debate,
and another to understand that dialectics ≠ debate;
but rather a service to prompt and engage thinking,
rather than debating... dialectics is an art-form,
     it's intended to encourage thinking,
rather than the continuum of polarised / schizoid
debating: debates never accomplish a convergence...
whereas dialectics is intended to establish
a convergent pinpoint... as Socrates said unto the young,
so i find myself talking to old men and being
in accordance to have shared a park bench,
one sunny afternoon at the nadir of summer.
                why is it that acquiring language is not
enough these days?
       or why is it that a poor acquisition of a language,
or acquiring a language without correcting
accentuated stresses particular to a tongue
are given a freer access to labour, then
acquiring a language to a standardisation of
mimic localisation, and fence: a faking of
a faking (ad infinitum) or locality?
i.e. overly-successful assimilation?
             overly-successful assimilation is punished!
   it is punished by speaking as a fluent native
might... but having no discriminatory biases
that could enable one to be completely native...
and this is punishable!
             by a stance that it's a robotics project,
that one is nothing more than an a.i. enterprise...
even those dearest to me acknowledge me
as a robot... an a.i.,
           but they can't seem to understand that
artificial intelligence, and authentic intelligence
cannot be superficial intelligence of
natives... for the natives have a placebo
to what is otherwise a Pompeii resurrection
to the volcano-dynamic of analysing-ergo-synthesising
           ana ergo syn           which
constructs the opposite of thesis and antithesis,
given that the equation combines two adequate prefixes,
ana- and syn-...
                      "against" therefore "with".
isn't that how we cling to social pressures
or prejudices and still accumulate 8 billion examples
of a comparative e.g. that's a John Smith?
     i have yet to come across a contemporary that
might become as if fatherly...
   i just see opportunist buckling down the M25 of
encircling nothing more than a venture into
gaining a quick buck... and it could, it could
almost be sad... but it's not...
              it took me almost 13 years of synthesising
the English language: synthesising i.e.
mimicking - before i started analysing it...
      and when i say the groundwork for any
theory on the subconscious is to focus on grammar
and grammatical word interjections into
a Joycean stream-of-consciousness...
                              for that's worth the upper-tier
working from the sub-level...
                          of utilising language:
then the unconscious is far from dreaming...
it's equivalent in seeing how i acquired a language
at the age of 8 to synthesise / mimic what the children
around me were saying...
   but that it took me so long to analyse the language...
which the children around me acquired within
a reflexive bias to later strand such reflexiveness into
a divergence of calling their angular retraction
philosophy, linguistics, poetry, psychology...
whole all i had to do is to appropriate a reflective bias to
later strand such reflectiveness as to say:
of my mother i say polski, of my father i say:
             ojczym - and i can reflect upon him,
foremostly his diacritical lack of the wriggling-blagger's
economisation, when due coinage is needed.
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2016
some would call it a profanity - from the islands of northern Europe i liked the Scots the most, in my first year at Edinburgh Scottish weather played a joke, i don't remember a single gloomy day - i do remember not sleeping one night, and trekking up Arthur's Seat to watch the sunrise, then climbing down, buying Kellogg's cornflakes and full-fat milk and eating them - that magic moment just between daytime fully sets in - it's so fresh, a reality proof, just before the mundane job applicants get up, you get a sense of what's truly taken for granted in society - it only lasts for a few minutes - before the commuters' nagging sets in, and everything fresh (awaiting the new dawn) becomes custard thick - sticky, sickly honey glue pungent... anyway... i'm making a grand profanity at the moment: tier 1 - whiskey and ice, tier oblivion - whiskey and coca cola... but what i'm drinking is like a virus immune to antibiotics, no amount of citrus barley caramel can mask the smoked salmon with a tinge of variously fruity accents can mask it... Glen Moray, single malt, an Elgin Classic - it is a profanity, i agree - i should drink whiskey like mulled wine - but i'm in a hurry for a mindset, and i'm not bothered that much about passing down aesthetics - my palette says otherwise. yeah, my love for Scotland came from climbing up a ladder in the English hierarchy at school - everyone wanted to be taught by Mr. Thomas Boonce - aged 15 went into B1 (or however they noted the selection process) - aged 16 on top of my game, A1 class - a blazing comet trail of ambition, shared the same desk with my enemy shoulder-to-shoulder, the one who promised me a south american plant would give me grand hallucinations, ****** the mother of my ******* son and wa-lah! elephant trunk pulled from a top hat playing jazz - that Jesus bit about loving your enemies? esp. if they're your childhood friends and are **** crazy? you don't love them, your heart turns to stone and it says skipping on lake: what a shame... so much potential in him wasted on jealousy, the way he trusted a woman that is now on some sort of psychiatric medication... i can't love enemies, what i can do is feel sorry for a waste of human potential... (knock on chest)... yep, this ol' ticker is solid stone... and sooner or later it will be added to a mountain i'm constructing in my mind.

thank god for rabbinical literature -
i could pour days over these pages - i literally open a book,
a compilation of entries -
why hasn't anyone noticed the genius of written Hebraic?
i know in the middle east is a wasp nest of harking and
memorable achoo - or quasi (~, literary denotation,
thereabouts, so so, kinda, well, approximate too,
hand gesture in that symbol, good-in-bad-bad-in-good) -
just now i was admiring the fact that Hebraic hides vowels -
truly, they hide them, ingenious buggers -
all the vowels in Hebraic are hidden -
in translation to Latin the Hebrews treat vowels
like post-Latin users of the original S.P.Q.R. alphabet
use diacritical marks - and newspaper Hebraic doesn't
include them in print, only: i suppose in poetry and
rabbinical writings are they exposed -
which stems largely from what is cordoned off -
or rather the fruits of the work of encapsulation -
Latin is slightly biased, no letter is truly encapsulated,
shut-off from another - aye, be, cee, dee, ee, ef, hay'tch (
a distinction), em, en, ***... zed (an exception), ex, you
get the idea - there are no nouns in the post-Latin
alphabet as such - which is why in science Greek letters
were used as constants - these consonant constants
encapsulated not only the phonetic content of a symbol,
but also allowed for an encapsulation of some higher
purpose - e.g. α (angular acceleration) -
β (sound intensity) - γ (gamma rays) - δ (heat in chemistry,
the perfect error, the Laplace operator, etc.) -
ε (set theory, the limit ordinal of the sequence -
    html disapproval to be written as: ω (tier squared ω,
    and one above the squared tier ω, ω root ω double root ω -
    variant alias of this? Hebraic notation of u .
                                                               ­                   .
                                                               ­                      .
     *shurek
) - Θ (Debye notation) - θ (potential temp. in
thermal dynamics) - ι (orbital inclination in celestial mechanics) -
κ (curvature) - Λ (lattice) - λ (decay constant in radioactivity) -
μ (micron, SI prefix, one millionth) - ν (a neutrino) -
ξ (a random variable) - π (too obvious, πr squared) -
ρ (correlation coefficient in statistics) - Σ (summation operator) -
σ (area density) - τ (torque) - φ (the golden ratio, 1.618...) -
ψ (the cat in a box, wave function, quantum mechanics) -
ω (the infinite ordinal);
                                         it's precisely because the Greeks to
encapsulate their phonetic symbols that so much stability
was brought up - look how poverty stricken the Latin variations
are - these are not merely letters, they are actually nouns!
you can recite the whole Greek alphabet a bit like going
to a party and being introduced to people: Jim, Charlie,
George, Rosemarie... obviously there are exceptions for
this observation to be bullet-proof (i.e. μ, ν, ξ, π etc.)
but did the scientists mind not using them? no! they kept to
this interpretation that symbols of sound need to be encapsulated -
held together, stable, each symbol needs to be a balancing act -
an ~equal amount of consonants and vowels need to be
invoked when writing either a or α, b or β, g or γ -
there needs to be an invocation of names to these symbols -
not mere ah be c e ef gee... English for its laziness in omitting
diacritical marks did the unspeakable when digital paper came
about - it turned itself into a quasi encryption tongue,
acronym fuelled and in all honestly - self-conscious of its faults
yet basking in them! but the real genius in encoding signs truly
belongs to the Hebraic school...

you find them so coerced by naked pictures,
that their outer resembles no inner -
you find them bound to an idea that the inner can
somehow compensate - but it can't -
the outer as the inner reveals nothing,
no love, merely a **** - the winged-Hussars die
in Ukrainian fertile land, and with the music,
you can only think of the drudgery of walking
through knee-high mud - you can just picture
the Cossack moustaches wedged behind the ears
like earrings - i too would have eaten my tongue that way
had it been permitted - without permission
i spoke of a stake tartar and my tongue into one -
then the mantra came - kametz, tzeré, chirek, kametz,
tzeré, kametz, kametz, tzeré, tzeré, cholem, kametz, kametz
,
- i will not be treated like some dumb farmer!
      your Yurt empire is fledgling into the sunset!
  and my heart is enshrined into a bitter toil! it will love
as it pleases! not with you saying what there's to love!
tzeré, shurek, kametz, kametz, tzeré, kametz, cholem, tzeré,
chirek, kametz
. what a mantra!
a, e, i, a, e, a, a, e, e, o, a, a, e, u, a, a, e, a, o, e, i, a -
patterns strangre than in a poetic rhyming scheme -
respective incisions into still-life motives of movement -
i.e. if a vowel be my hand, a consonant be a chair i sit on:
kametz of aleph (א), tzeré of bet (ב), chirek of gimel (ג),
kametz of dalet (ד), tzeré of heh (ה), kametz of vav (ו).
kametz of zayin (ז), tzeré of chet (ח), tzeré of tet (ט),
cholem of yod (י), kametz of kaf (ק), kametz of lamed (ל),
tzeré of mem (מ), shurek of nun (נ), kametz of samekh (ס),
kametz of ayin (ע), tzeré of peh (פ), kametz of tzadi (צ),
cholem of kof (ק), tzeré of resh (ר), chirek of shin (ש)... and
finaly the kametz of tav (ת)* - we really like our matchstick
men, don't we? in terms of ancients tongues,
we like our curvatures in modern tongues of Greek
and Latin, don't we?
instilled the names of vowels! kametz (a
                                                 tzeré (e
            chirek (i
                                          cholem (o
                 shurek (u
                                                           pentagon thus far,
    revealed vowels with diacritic interpretation
           kametz, as soured: חָ - tau, vowel as diacritical mark
elsewhere -
                       tzeré - or umlaut below the letter - alternatively:
           וָ qàmetz                   וֵ tzeré
וִ ḥìreq                              וֹ ḥólem                   וּ shùreq
     (c, k, q - make it quick, à, 1st),
                (é - prolong it, to catch a breath, or the first
                      tetragrammaton H),
that's the genius of the encoding though... the omission of
vowels, or vowels as diacritical marks - one shurek (u .
                                                               ­                                   .
                            ­                                                                 ­        .)
among 10 kametz and 7 tzeré - gematria at its purest -
one shurek, 2 chireks and 2 cholems -
a form of encoding deviating from obscure onomatopoeia
and the void and meaninglessness, toward
a sound ushering a word for word, and actions parallel -
but this encapsulation of breath taken and
breath released, as in writing, the speaker does not
suddenly breathe again - but is kept within limit,
a consonant starting point, the zenith of breath or soul
and a return to one body, v A v (e.g.).
but imagines being able to avoid noun insertions -
then Hebrew is very much as modern English -
when modern English ought to utilise diacritical marks
on either vowel or consonant, it does not -
it doesn't have a single sound encoding worthy of a name -
there's no omega, there is only oh -
Hebrews treat their vowels as diacritical marks -
their language is one massive crossword -
how do they even read HBRC? who the hell taught them
when to insert the vowels from following the roots
as stated HBRC toward the tree that's HEBRAIC?
this is ******* bewildering - i don't know how they do it!
what's agonising is their notion that patterns in letters
having numerical values is somehow meaningful,
as if something horrid can be averted - to me 1 + 1 = 2
is enough - i don't need alef / αλεφ / αλεθ (א) + bet / βετ (ב) =
anything but gimel / γιμελ (ג) -
this is the ****-pile of having so many prophets in your society
and not enough philosophers - the Casandra Standard -
Greeks had the philosophers, the Hebrews had their
prophets, both in excess - in the end the cult of prophecy
in Hebraic society turned into a Casandra Standard
borrowed from Greek myth - while Greek philosophers...
i don't actually know what happened to them -
i think most of them became dentists after Aristotle suggested
women had fewer teeth than men.
jeffrey robin Mar 2013
You see
ALEPH HAY YOD HAY

becomes

YOD HAY VOV HAY
-------
This is the whole of it

The
KABBALA
The
BIBLE
------------
In numerical language

ONE FIVE TEN FIVE

becomes

TEN FIVE SIX FIVE
-----------

What this is describing is how our consciousnesses
Come and intermingle and exchange all information

And seperate and individualize themselves

Unto certain  limits imposed by the necessity of overall unity

And the need  for operational harmony

--

This is the Seed  from which creation springs

The details of which are myriad and fascinating
--

All that needs be known IS KNOWN

As is the nature of the power
That keeps the truth hidden

All that is needed is YOUR DESIRE to understand

Thank you
Mateuš Conrad Dec 2016
respectability argument: to be honest, being british, i think you're being asked to be required in kenya.... unless french, and much needed in the ivory coast; unless of course bound to south america and resurrecting aztecs; but that's you, snogging Pocahontas: and there's me still thinking about L'vov in Ukraine and Vilnius in Lithuania, like some Greek torching Athens in order to reclaim the stature of being enclosed by the Koranic identification of being once named Byzantine.

i make children in my sleep. parisian monkey dogue;
i'll sell my mother for a chance to *salute
!
seigel... heil! is that drowned
   or drunk monkeys? is that the fluffy *******
or the furry moustache?
      vexen ßeß -
    i'm getting the itch....
              the children rebel,
they read:
                   azure eyed
and the keeper: those americans
aren't selling the idea of democracy,
they're selling patriotism...
               we can't find patriotism
after vietnam...
               i told you i sold the children
the idea...
           they're hanging with me in the night...
they're engaging everyone with
drunk's antics... and 9 depths of Dante...
                          when no-one aims to be
intelligent, rather drunk...
                    high-streets of Aleppo...
             only when children take to invoking
a priestly Saturday...
     caste-made worth's of a *******...
i charge to culprit the salutation...
                    for whatever coaxing
i too mind the hoax -
                               veneered in vex -
                   broadly gathered with a klux.
x x x... x x x... wind-farms of Bavaria.
    tragedy in Dortmund, and navigating
the E34... i think they call it the Bermuda
spaghetti tangle...
     schloss... Mathias Pfred...
               y'ah, dirt-ridden with the Rhine...
                            neun counter eins...
       luft, feuer, wasser, erde;
      zahnseide nach naiv chittern, denken bürste;
ich nehmen die kontinent für schweinkratzen:
kichernd beifall - cacao Brad Pitt... suede
in foxtrot a vexing the ***** of mustard with
merging ginger and brownshirt; skunk
marching the heb toward allegiance texan,
for that pretty period of living in the 1960s
and the early 21st century...
and god said: either a german or a pole
will be my puppet joker, or i'll have
a resurrection of israel! ****! why not, i'll
have both.
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2017
right now i have a mind-frame worth of a Janissary, so don't **** with me!

i have what you fear... an, idea,
is that not, the case?

            there few men that
delve in fear of idea,
                 new york is no odessa....

americans deserve the swine and
swivel - and the stench
of the immortality of nations....

if your beloved be Baghdad,
mine is l'vov...
as is your precious Constantinople....

byzantine...
                        unto my wish
sultan Mahmet....
the roma the bulgar...
the serb abnd croat...
                  i have you heel...
                    i have too by blinding
a deserving alliance...
a father's unsaid words...
                  most welcome the
undeserved,
                      a revealing scapegoat
of a a master,
                     what futile labour
of the 72 ****** awaiting whip & tail...
                                    
            no crimea the tartan tongue
worth speak,
and no *battle of tannenberg
,
    wert sprechen...
                     united europe?
brexit unison?
                            apparently there's
no unison concern for a hasting's 1066...
you, ******* idiots!
                          learn a  bit of history
of your neighbours,
before you juxtapose your own,
upon the others! *******,
english, brats!
                      i hate the english for being
so ******* isle abiding,
they think they're icelandic but can
hardly compete...
               they have so much history
outside of europe that they're confused
about being european,
in than europeans have a history...
                 and they are dislodged from it...
the irish know more about england
than the english known about england.
n'ah, you know what, **** it,
   i'ld rather be a turkish white-boy slave
in the ottoman empire
than normalise the nag hammadi library
of keeping the narrative of:
it's safe to say, the madness of trans-gender
adolph ****** is pinching the revival
button...
        no... i'm not signing up to faking
the 2.0 of the next crucifix...
                               count me out...
i'm done...
                            first you flirt with
normalising schizophrenia,
before you "flirt" with "normalising"
the transgender,
    then you tell me where "la la land" is,
then you let me torture peter pan,
and then we torture alice in wonderland,
simply because you ******* normalised
a madness that requires institutionalisation,
the sane are deemed mad,
the mad are deemed sane...
                         you pushed the wrong
buttons, for far too long...
**** it, i'm pushing the
                        apostasy button...
looks like even though i drink, excessively,
islam will welcome me...
why? BECAUSE I'M NOT AS ******
UP AS YOU ALREADY ARE!
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2022
title: in private
body: but in public?
oink: anti Faroe Isles
      rhetoric.


i'm exhausted... whatever is happening
in Europe... ******* funnel
of the continents...
my favourite lady came by...
i was holding her in my arms
in the sunlight... endearing her naked
feet with my hands... warming them...
she clenched her feet around my fingers
like... a hawk might ask for
a manicure of the nails...
  
        rejection... well... you build a stomach
for that sort of ****...
now the Turkish ******* is sending me
selfies...
           i told her: i get paid at the end
of the month...
i'm expecting another rejection
just because i gave her the wrong sort of
attention... i'm already rummaging
in the forest at night...
         have i lost my shadow?
who am i looking at?

just the intro from: ghost's song zenith...
i sent her a selife in return...
duck-lips... glasses...
a picture of a constellation...
of spring blossom...
again... if i get rejected by a *******...
that'll be the end of me...

the affairs of Ukraine... as a ******?
why would i give a ****?
am i?
supposed to?
UPA... the massacre of Polacks
in Volhynia & Eastern Galicia...
           i don't care...
**** it... let the Russians come... tease
the ineffectuality of the western democracies
a little... tease them...
i'll care more for Romanians...
Moldovans...
            Ukrainians?! give us back L'vov!
*******: KACAPY!             КAЦAПЫ!
they write their cheap-*** Greek...
to hell with them... the Zaporizhian host:
Khmelnystky... Ukraine can burn for all i care...
i just care that i'm the would be uncle
of Malvina... that she got to see the sun
while i folded my hands around her bare feet...
i drew a circle with my finger...
she drew an iota...
omicron for an iota... fair enough...
she then pointed at the colours red...
yellow... while sitting on my bed...
how else would you talk to a toddler?!
     i'm just glad this ******* is sending my selfies...
i already sent her a picture of spring bloom...
and rainbow chrysanthemums...
but you know something is up...
if the hood-winks are staging a proxy war
on the door-steps of Europe...
something ridiculous must have happened
out in the west...
something so horrifyingly obvious that
it just can't be denied...
   not discovered... or... shunned...
          something so ******* obnoxious
that... it can't be left... just so...
without a war... well...
to reap what you sow... no?
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2020
you can drag me into a "sanity"
of your... "society"...
but i quit...
at... the point... of you... dragging me...
onto the self-laceration
of a crucifix of your:
right-no-wrong...
"right-every-wrong": sort-of...
this insanity of an "argument":
this: da-sein: of...
                nicht-sein: ein "da:....
     the madmen and mad-madam:
who are, you...
cookie-flippin' culture...
half-bakes of the already
arrived at... oven crispy...
spaghetti cul-de-sacs?!
              i... vont...
hugo... boss...
                grausteifbeispiele!
ich brauchen!
                düster-als-schwartz...
geheimestaatspolizei:
gehenna fetishes:
could zis... 'un...
be excused...
for the love of the Iranian...
shah - pahlavi -
the love of baklava...
                     and the baháʼí...
moscou... muscovitte...
   little kiev... bogus l'vov...
and creed in towing...
                     vilnius...
                         konrad... von wallenrode...

safe: keeping... a "ditto"...
and there are those... mosquitos...
jerks... irks...
the ditto-head replicas of lacerated:
old crave... a new Warsaw:
                                     WAR-SZ-AWA!

replica of 19th, 20th, 21st... english...
illuminations...
the bribed... sand-*******...
the lawrence-of-arabia:
sand-******... wannbies...
sand-****** / camel-jockey...
who's witch cnut-now?

                  who's what...
there's a knightbridge...
and a faking... bengali earned...
alms for a: lamborghini rode...

i am of... being most profound...
when found... allocated...
a lost... bride of a heart...
in exile...
to have to... puzzle the "box"....
i am most... irritated:
but in the best of humour...
this i cannot... sacrifice...
this advent...

      i have been away from masovia...
geared toward: hünd!
             toward... a blinding: sight...

my first girlfriend...
french... grenoble....
          Isabellah...
my second girlfriend...
Promis... australia...
perth...
                    a "third"...
Ilona... st. petersburg...
        i much wander into the conversation
with the brain...
for the time spent...
among the ukranian and the romanian
******...

no... Ilona was...
i ****** her before an altar
of a mirror at st. petersburg...
she was from... Novosibirsk..
half of half of a:
"kief"...
  akin to... alexander zed grek....
              athens: moscow...
macedonia: ukraine:
   blah kiev...
          soviet chernobyll... blah blah...
half meets...
                         the edinburgh...
loved up at plaistow kindergarten
hearts...
            nights are all satin...
               cow gate... riddle with ugly...
****-garden of man and woe...
the future ambitions of her...
closure "self"...

or muslim g.p.s....
north... bias...
thus: east... not ends... mecca:
         surprises...
east what "east"...
  north the basic libido of a scintific
inquiry...
and the forever lost and loop...

           i want to fall in love
with music again...
nights in white satin - the moody blues...
gyöngyhajú lány - omega...

             i want to fall in love...
with a love that's not inquisitive of
a burden of youth...
i want to fall in love...
that's... crevice limbo...
loitering... a man of crease...
a man of...
she did resolve the measure...
she has delved into the eyes
of seas...
                   maggie smith...

i didn't watch the... t.v. pursuit...
i watched the movie adaptation...
she did have...
eyes the worth of twin seas...
how did she do it?
beside the creases...
the cringing...
my great-grandmother esque
"wording"...
she has had eyes that blinked via the bodies
of confined mummies!
such crisp youth...
such... baron first matters...
        
her skin could have become crease...
as paper... leveraged... loiter of waiting for: rain...
but her eyes... so...
the fear that zombies mastered: so alive!

i do want to... die...
in a company of strangers...
that deserve to be complimented...
since... i can't... die... with a frivolity...
or death spiral... or daffodil... "my cousin" dear...
my grandmother dearest...
my grandfather dearest...
on my mother's side...
i have been... excused to minding...
a father...
a father with a mother a father with a father...

i am.. pauper... with and without...
this one-sided equation...
whizz kid the lesser of the otherwise: twinning of evils.

a chis cornell...
is no clive owen...
  in the court of the crimson king...
           who's the lesser and of the lessened few /
queue?
              the andromeda of
the best confiscated mind...
the overtly confined...
   and the dreamless attache...
              of the skip-a-true... toward...
a turtle... equipped...
                baron leverage over...
             making... time... a parody.

— The End —