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Oct 2015
poems like these are difficult to revise let alone convene over drunk once more, but in my own interpretation, the whole understanding of it begins with a joke: what do i care if a portent was given to him, did he think he could do anything he wanted after? it’s like me caring for albert fish sticking needles into his pelvis for that extra conductivity frying in the electric chair. but the main interpretation is as follows:

well you know how the *debye length
equation reads

  λ subscript D = 1 / F x √(RT ε subscript R ε subscript 0 / 2000I)

given that F is faraday’s constant and R is the molar gas constant and I is ionic strength,

well that got me thinking in the humanities - where are the equations for the garbage heap of phonetics when κολοκύθι looses ‘appa ‘micron ‘ambda ‘micron ‘appa ‘psilon ‘eta ‘ota to simply say pumpkin? kolokythi? i see, ‘ above upsilon produces the kolokythi hence not kolokuthi; but still, where’s the phonetic garbage heap of ‘appa ‘micron ‘ambda ‘micron ‘appa ‘psilon ‘eta ‘ota? it’s in equations like the debye length, the sheer complication of losing the strict individuation of the letters... unlike in latin's do re mi fa so la a b c singalong, but with that come spelling mistakes and overly eloquent spelling of words and spelling mistakes.

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but i lament the fact the one of the woods i used to frequent
at night was stolen by an irish cerberus
one headed shoulder height hinger than an alsatian
chasing a rabbit one night,
and the other wood was stolen by a satanic mass
of the shrieking druid.
i miss those woods with my walk of pulverisation eyed
of faked hallucinogens of the night,
i miss them and therefore i confess like edward prior harold:
the sun will not rise from the west,
but the moon will be taken from the belly of the desert
from the realm of arabia
taken as the emblem of islam and be like the sun to japan,
the moon will be that - in the west and the north -
while the crucifix imported into the northern lands
will be sent back to those thieves of the moon
in the twinned linear parallel of the sun’s antonym
with the blood eagle stongehenge -
and i’ll not be weary to say:
a king is before a prophet’s honour in his homeland
an outcast and must remain so in order
that he might not invoke a prophet's honourable
wrath in his homeland -
but should a paul come unto a matthew
then the king's wrath is invoked!
so while a prophet’s honour is sacrificed like
isaiah’s with some king and with john the baptist
decapitated with the second king’s insurrection
so too the king’s honour is taken into consideration,
that a king hoped for keeping the egyptians cosmopolitan
with greek philosophy was what moved the nation of israel,
then too a second nation shall move
should a king's honour not profit standing still of the people.
but i too wish for a favour: i forgot what it was,
but it reminded me of something that could have been
a working household with screaming children aching for
a screening of the tate gallery in a slideshow -
but to prove god all men asked one man to renounce such
guises of the futures kept with the army of bothersome parentages.
hence i to the graveyard of the place where the 18th century
met the 20th century: as they say, they were kind to the 20th century youth,
they sent them packaged to death’s clot of chatter,
and midway, in the same century, platonism was usurped
with a care for poets! imagine it! midway they asked for the poets
to come back and arrange all the grecian lettering enigmas of the
sciences and snigger and smile at the romanic fakes of the once held by troy.
but many spoke of yod alef he waw ayin he - because so much of eve
once was that no more could be of the adam who abstracted himself
into her who once possessed him, and who unto being harmed
re-attached himself to his mother with the due humiliation she invoked in him:
but once you go back you’ll forever remain a child.
this is coming from a russian girl studying in scotland...
foreigner’s fees... cheap ***** -
my only chance of a steady income was with my father roofing!
why did you leave?
why were you rich and feared the bolsheviks by not turning into a philanthropist for a bit?!
Mateuš Conrad
Written by
Mateuš Conrad  36/M/Essex (England)
(36/M/Essex (England))   
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