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Mar 2016
for my father's heart i'd sever a thousand hearts,
and think nothing of your digital bombast,
in expression, and in your understanding
a careless use of punctuation,
for my father's heart i'd sever a thousand
heads from able limbs, into that tabloid care of
your to passively brush... with your
assimilated parasites, lost bilingual *******...
oh scare me with your turbans and lost tongue?
scare elsewhere, you equal among colonisers!
ignore the irish, they're just like dumb swedes.*

the ugliness of the english publication scene,
the too "risqué", i could integrate, but couldn't
assimilate, i couldn't do that passive-racism of
fake brits akin to: egyptians,
indians in the highest hierarchy of the Raj..
i couldn't do that...
they integrated & assimilated
like barren ******, they basically
did a Michael Jackson of migrating;
**** them all!
and they laughed at someone who
was almost killed;
thank god i received the laughter and
not my mother & father,
for my father's heart i'd sever a thousand men
from their torsos...
and i would do more, should my father's heart
not shine in emblem of riches
akin to my would-be murderer's mother's
tongue not dripping out honeyed words:
as i read, most hate their fathers, as the old
testament says, and as christianity proclaims
the Bethlehem star proclaim the baby owner
rather than Joseph... most hate their father...
and like slithering parasites without congregation
await the Samuel fingerprint of passing....
they laughed when i said i was almost murdered,
they laughed so hard they sentenced me for
psychiatric inspection to be able to write a book,
a common monetary generator that madness was,
but look at my legion of those readied to ******!
look at it! ah, i see, no more great wars to be waged...
i laugh too, at their export of values to foreign
lands then now fear to contain...
a friend in iraq just said: p.p.s.
and i retorted, what about the p.s.?
and he said: i meant your signature, you know,
write something like resembling english humour,
un-decipherable, i.e. not funny, and when funny
thought idiotic, because too much lee evans puppetry.
and i said: ah, p.p.p.s.
Mateuš Conrad
Written by
Mateuš Conrad  36/M/Essex (England)
(36/M/Essex (England))   
362
 
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