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Mateuš Conrad Oct 2024
the nights where I go to sleep listening to some SNMR of a fireplace, the sound of falling rain, the sound of waves caressing the shore, winds of a wintry blizzard... and the evenings tuning in to the radio... not being burdened with my jouvenille taste in personal choice of music... how soothing to not be the curator of my own downfall, claustrophobic... a release in the outstretched consolation of time, not being my own d.j., which only truly works in the realm of classical and jazz music... and nowhere else as via BBC radio 3.

Ah! The world is a fine, fine place...
with BBC radio 3 and 4 in
the background...
why did I think succumbing
to the corporatism of classic.fm
would amount to much:
of note people who only care
about classical music if governed
by visual aids of cinema...
yes, the world is a fine place:
reminiscent of my maternal great
grandfather hacking rhe airwaves
trying to play cards, eat peanuts
and sugar cubes like a cackling horse
brightening the dull grey of those
20th century days without
knowledge of what coffee beans were for
dumbing sackloads into the river
tuning into: hello Europe, London speaking...
just like now... uninterrupted
by adverts with dental practioners
and war mongering charities...
the world is o.k. with BBC radio 3
and 4... Westminster Hour on radio 4
come 10pm... then switching to radio 3
for some classical and jazz and
Icelandic cello duets and some New York
hum hummy itchy ooh ooh
of those generic haughty female vocals
with a metropolitan "unique" lisp...
in the future, which is also now...
there won't be a need for a t.v.
and a license of ownership...
a book a candle and a radio.
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2024
maybe there is an ethnic-revisionism happening in the post-colonial realm of thought... maybe less of a genetic continuity and more a cognitive compensation: regardless of their race... and ethnic-revisionism is that western Europeans against central and Eastern Europeans... and the Greeks... and Egyptians and the Hebrews and Philistines.... bit you won't find guilt by association in Poland or Russia... not among the people of the steppes in Kazakhstan or Mongolia... funny how Mongolia was the first Communist Country; Mongolia Great Thirst Again!

The plan for the whites and Asians
To **** out old ideas
And the susceptible....
**** them out
With influx of vibrant migrants
The boomer generation
And the Silent Generation
No I don't blame boomers
I blame the Silent Generation
Influx of Africa at least ***+
Not some Arab on the Holy Mission
With the Hebrew to still ****
Cousins... but the Hebrew
***** cousins
To breed geniuses of the intellct
Arab... not so much...
I won't mind the minority status
In 10 years time...
That year 0 for Greenwich
Mean Time... but a historical meridian
is time all relevant on the equator?
If there is a 1st 3rd World Divide
The Equator is in London... given the tilt of the earth the people who are
Already living on the moon
Are the people of the equator
But the actual equator is in London
Given hemispheres where North
Is spring while south is winter... I imagine... Sahara now desert
A then mountain range
The dead Sea God's blood...
I see the blood of god
And it is not wine nor vampire
Incel Christ...
I see the blood of god as a drop
Or maybe 25ml of it
With some pepper...
Of the Dead Sea...
I already tried the *****
and warm **** not beer or champagne
Of the Devil...
Having ****** into the wine...
when I went to Bath
to see the Roman baths via
Stonehenge....
So if you can find
The blood of god And blood
Of the Devil...
Why seek wine of the Son
son of God
As much as the son of Man...
Where the devil is the grey
Area of the details of writing
Abstracting painting
Nymphs of Numbers...
The blood of the devil
Is in Bath... warm sulphur ****...
And I'm sure the blood of God
Is the Dead Sea...
Hey presto... two pilgrimages
To countrt the mystique
Of the Hajj...
Christian Paganism and not:
Pagan-Christanity....
See how an -ism
Softens the load of hyphen
Compounding counter
Arguments
But also with an -ism...
The rigid chem- -istry
Artistry?
Since no longer the chameleon
Of alchemy...
Biology and all the lists of
-ologies...
Phi Isaac as Rex Prix....
Medicine and now
I will not smoke an entire
Joint of drink more than
Soothing of liver than boxing it
Sent a brain message to liver
With a 36h pause
Shivers because it started
To nudge nudge the ribcage...
So I sweated out into sober
But then decided to sip sip
And get maybe 5h sleep...
Listen to **** van ****
And Bukowski and how much
Of the worst alcoholism is
Associated with metabolism
Ans how some alcoholics are
Functioning and some art
A nd I can drink but I also
Need elitist "sports" and interests...
Like rugby is an interest...
I'd go sober for the game...
But if I had friends coming along...
I'd go there drinking
And we could appreciate the game
In the backgrounds...
But classical music and going
To an artezhiviyib...exhibition
Is like **** and a rock concert...
Or **** and a Taylor swift concert...
A Frqncis Bacon exhibition:
It's still on NPG... Trafalgar Sq...
Is like ****...
And a Taylor swift concert...
Put together... mashed up macaroons,
Mascots and McGuinnesesGuivers.

That's all it was...
how strange that the Mongolians
Adopted Communism first
And how the Chinese
are this morphed Communism
That managed to dupe
Capitalism....
In geo-politics
Capitalism is the Host
And Communism the Parasite
Localised with the equivalent
Of Sparta in North Korea...
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2024
As someone who has been working
now seemingly countless live
events...
to get away from all the... unnecessary
furore of a pop concert...
to escape into the confines of an
art gallery... almost 150 pieces...
                           I felt: healthily elitist.
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2024
arrt ehiubution
exciubiutiib
walk fro mmm
mt
tottenham#
Milllwall
cazkharing cvroos!
/
  azl#
          az
azl
axL
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2024
canvas:

pure and simple...

                  like an Ikea Nike advert...

i can't believe that Eminem
became relevant again...

since July Lucifer...
o.k.

i distract: i'm thinking about Hades
and the Beyond-Hell realm
of Tartarus

i'm alligning myself
top foxes
squiurrels
rats
open air asylum....
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2024
a Francis Bacon exhibition is currently happening at the National Portrait Gallery... i'm planning to go tomorrow... tickets on sale around £25... i'll also buy the ******* gallery bound to a book... just discovered the resurrection ofg Eminem... Lucifer... imagine all the advertisement propaganda of the saviour in black man... but then comes Puff Daddy worse than ****** in Hell: ****** in Heaven i ***** the birth of the rebirth of Israel and the Jews with a nation and a diaspora like all the rest of us except for the U.S.A. and maybe Russia but i don't think me me me... language block... my black savior is a ******* pervert my **** my pi two square e... rap my little *** along and forget Newton's great ****...

bluff bluff: an **** plug and the baby
and her waters of the tub...
maybe i'm reading Frank Herbert's Dune...
maybe the serpents and gardens
have been replaced by
worms and deserts and mountains...
and then i see a **** in every fish
i see in the sea...
like black glue of vomitting
hallucinating of the peer of the void
of the pupil no sclera
and no iris of fish...
maybe there's magic in the eye
of both dog and cat
but i see the same sane black fish
in squirrel and rat
and wait... of the fox? i swear:
gangland **** i'm working
an open air asylum...

             breed the idea...
mommy daddy
oh my son
oh O
O oh daughter...
oculus per oculus...
eye for an eye
my utmost desperate utmost last and first
the aesthetic as primo
and ethics as levi
Matthew: my passion...
away bouncing thinner from
Ethopia...
if Christ is to return my namescape...
Rupnzil...
no...

  7 deadly sins and come the 7 phobias:
two chimeras mated you
selling me:
two ******* giraffes?
you want this Colisseum to run
on **** and *****?
i need blood... i need blood!

fear of spiders
fear of open spaces
fear of the night...
Islamophobia does not collide
with this beast of the new 7 heads
i have rational to fear Islam
ask the Polacks and ask the Romanians
and the revision of Europe via
the Ottomans:
even the Arabs rebelled
and Lawrence and Sire: Sinaz...
the river parition of the Red Sea:
the Runes and that fluctuation of the seas
into alter
the old the serpent isn't here:
no garden...
just the barren land of desert
and the mountain ranges
and the arm
my seeing unseeing eye
of the worm...
as god evolved: so did the devil...
you think concepts and absstracts
don't evolve: that intellect is man's own
possession?
debris...
              my history my own light...
better father better mother mother
better Reyla can i ask for....
i have a clue into a rational fear of Islam
like i have a double edged sword
the old Pagan armed with Judaism
i also have a fear of Christianity:
you late learners my **** my lord
i better tell them...
i'm playing a game of...

like the effect... forget the name...
they call me Matthew:
Matteo... Matti... Matt...
but my true name has already
been given and brided with ink
on paper...
i am Conrad... like i add an M
in volutpous... like i add an extra D
to conDrad...

**** Germany + the High Fashion +
KISCH...
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2024
unknown to me, only prior to turning on classic.fm on the radio come the 6pm news bulletin at the start of my night shift... that demonic red glare in the sky... remnants of the northern lights descending as far south as London... no wonder my head, even a day later... reels with magnetic dissonance I can't exactly justify with any sensible rationale... like a moon madness and the fullness of it and werewolves... is there anything in our bodies that might allow us be inclined to feel magnetism: in the same vein as when old people talk about atmospheric pressure and how that dampens their mood and instigates a lethargy that's also an excusable bout of welcome melancholy: welcome in the sense of (it) being unavoidable?

i was, expecting to sleep until about now: circa 2pm...
that shift didn't help me much:
demoted for a reason: that i hushes in silenced
an ego-whisper: don't get so ****-hurt about it:
there's surely a reason...
upon returning home: a crimson cloud
in the dark sky... pumpkin spiced latte with the
ginger, Joan... Joe... ginger is a ginger is
a ****** is a ginger...
i really don't understand or want to:
these flirtations of trying to match me up
to a tailor for a Mr Bonzo... Baker St. is my favorite
underground station... so she puts her hand
between mine while mine is in my pocket...
and i guess that's how unavailable women
pet men to submit to some wishy-washy variation
of what could be a wholesome adventure in
Islam...
            but never mind... oh but i do mind...
it's like a cross between Garry Glitter's rock & roll
and Talking Heads' ****** killer...
but that sputnik of a crimson hue so huge although
it wasn't a cloud: gave me bad nightmares
the kind where you don't dream anything
but instead succumb to that summary of waking
up early in order to listen to some wham!
jeez...
last night i disclosed i was Millwall fan...
the supposed epicentre of trouble at cordon 3: DC...
where all the ******* were supposed to reign
grumpty humpty dumpty:
turns out all the children congregated and was
asked: what team do you support:
i bet it's West Ham i bet it's Tottenham...
gorgeous George the homeless was there...
and then i mimed Mill         Wall...
the kid heard me: but i had to make it painfully
obvious with the sound matched to the movement
of my lips... Mill... Wall...
a bit... in spite of my father who was... is...
a forver an ardent hammers fans...
i think it's the Scottish Connection...
Millwall is associated: by colours of their jerseys:
St. Andrews' piquat: navy: somewhat teasing
at Florentina's purple... but nonetheless
Scotch navy: which is teasing purple...
plum... plump blue...
well if Prince William can support Aston Villa
and from what i heard:
the reason West Ham have their claret and blue
is because it's a plagiarism of the Aston Villa kit...
can't have plagiarism in my vein...
so... well can't really support Arsenal or Tottenham
although: that cockerel is mighty teasing
but i'm not ***...
so the Scottish Connection: the team associated
with the dockers on the southbank...
i'm finding the London on the south of the Thames
a riddle... a welcome riddle...
surrounding the area around Elephant & Castle
a mighty affair of architecture that's most appealing
come 6am... and 7pm...
i love that part of London:
that open air asylum vibe...
i'm the most insane sane person around those parts
when my night shifts start... and finish:
but they never finish...
to support a football team simply because of
the locality... i think that's 1960s worth of
****** liberation atop the singling out word of:
groovy...    yeah baby... yeah...
watching footage from 1960s swinging London
is a bit surreal like watching
videos of the liberation of the concentration
camps of central and eastern Europe...
watching these hispters of London and then watching
the Auschwitz walking skeleton chimes...
strangely... in synch...
              because we don't have a cataclasm to
pacify ourselves with a panacea...
             the butterfly and tornado narrative...
clearly our insomnia fried brains are not even equipped
to clarify a tragedy with the antithesis of
Egyptian prowess hedonism...
maybe that's the parody of the 20th century
that i'm only sobering up to realise: while drinking...
some rabbi was sussing me out while
giving directions to an unknown tongue of a couple
trying to get to Buckingham Palace:
or rather: st. James' park:
          rabbi rabbi... what's my story?
demoted: but whoever said that the person in authority
has a voice... i wasn't wearing the high viz bib
associated with my "status"
yet people still gravitated toward me regardless
of whether i was wearing zebra stripes
dalmation polka dots or a lion's mame...
                    that just show you authority...
when there is a stature unconcerning about what
visual games are played...
the Asians just started jumping at me all giggly and funny
and like i was their friend...
tonight: more Polish cinema and some
driving test theory...
        but last night...
that allure of that crimson cloud hanging over
my eyes not letting me get to sleep
then waking up early...
     it's almost as if i insurrected hell and told it to rise...
high above and into the heavens
and punctuate the stream-of-consciousness
of heaven... it was... rather... magical...
i'll make up my plans for sleeping longer:
as intended: i'll manage... as long as i don't get
a custard-headache and a lip-trim-vibration
of being constipated...
                 Gary Glitter and rock... rock 'n' roll rock...
rock 'n' roll rock...
no amount of Guns 'n' Roses and Clapton
when coupled with the imagery of...
coulrophobia... William Wallace and the Woad Brigadiers...
because this is England and the English
are only Anglo-Saxons and there's
the Reesh, the Vealsh and the Sceetch to mind...
the Irish the Welsh and the Scots...
             look alive son, comes the Anglo-Slav.
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