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Francie Lynch Aug 2015
Use all the combinations of consonants,
Blends, short and long i's;
Try intonation or diphthongs;
Resort to linguists;
Spell in Welsh.
You can't approximate
The muted sound
Of a breaking heart.
C B Heath  Apr 2013
Unannounced
C B Heath Apr 2013
Rapture, growing voice around the corner.

Crisp new diphthongs, sorry rounded vowels

unrehearsed. A twanging reverb. Certain

loosened phrasings shock the doorknob, like

'Clara...octaves...failings'. When I lift the


latch it's broken trailing consonants

streaming past the ceiling; bassy treaties,

sighing falling clothes and chord-crushed feeling.
4th piece for NaPoWriMo.
Rob Mar 2014
I once fell for a poetess
A lyricist of songs
She alliterated everywhere
With such cracking shaped diphthongs!
RD©2014
Kiernan Norman Dec 2014
I
Your friends here think you have it all:
and on a secret-sometimes
(mornings when the wind is
blowing the perfect amount
of sea-spun and menthol crush-)
you might agree.

You’re smart; if domineering,
and funny; if a bit cruel.
You throw your body against doors,
announcing yourself to whole
buildings with small heaves and breathy hellos;
always dumbly surprised by the hollowed out fiber
of your upper arms but refusing to acknowledge
the irony that in the months since your muscles
quit feasting on themselves
you have only grown weaker.

These friends let you talk.
You talk and talk.
They marvel at the stampede of your
stories; unnerved by the way your voice digs
into the room like a charging foal and
spins dust rising across the tabletop.
With struck lids and no warning
they blink stinging eyes clean
while stacking your bolting, blocky words
straight to the ceiling,
a reverse game of jenga.
You don’t make sense,
Alone you built a tower of babble.

II
In class you learn to speak like it’s the first time;
you chew on diphthongs and expel plosive consonants.
You pitch crude phrases high across the room
and discover the implications of each single breath.

In trucks and diners you learn to love like it’s the first time;
you kiss with your eyes closed and let fingers wander.
Your hands have a habit of tangling into his and you throw
your head back when you laugh,
(your palms are sweating
but you’re dauntless in this twilight-
go ahead; bare your throat.)
When he suddenly; fiercely,
lifts your body off the ground and into his
you no longer apologize for the weight of it.
You’re pretending to have made peace with gravity.

III
You’re the girl who seems to exist as an anecdote.
You are bits and pieces of a weird,
rambling journey assembled into a crinkle-*****
Raggedy-anne body who has giggled in a thousand accents
and crushed a million cigarettes butts
into the earth between a handful of
state lines and boot soles.

You’ve become an idea that people like;
a girl who is endlessly creating and curetting,
exploring and groping bits of everything across
years and maps and daydreams.
Her resume impresses-
she has no roots.

And you too like the idea of her-
She walks lightly and smiles.
She marvels and hums,
she is quick downplay
her own electricity.

She’s all short dresses and motorcycle boots.
She tumbles into splits down the hallway,
she’s long hair flowing behind a gush of
dark humor and kind words.
She feels it all and deeply
but the way she lays with hurt
isn’t sticky or scalding,
She simmers quietly. She ***** in her cheeks
and gnaws at her fingernails; grinning.

IV
She is an enigma;
the salty girl, eyes raw, with the pocketful of poems.
She's the girl who takes her dark days and catalogues
them into sepia stanzas. She soaks them in
hindsight and hangs them up to dry
along a string of Christmas-light-twinkling
words and confessions. She watches closely
as they develop into something she can begin
to understand. She waits expectantly
as they bloom into a blurry portrait
of who she might really be.

Because the girl you’re left with when the
people who like you so much have gone home
and your poetry has receded from the homepage
of publications to dusty archives-
this girl isn’t so definite.

V
You vaguely know her.
You haved walked together. You sometimes nap inside her.
She likes to wear your face.
You’re working up the courage to introduce yourself.
You don’t mind knowing this girl, she’s fine. She’s trying.
and maybe one day you’ll start to let other people know her too.
I mean, we’re all just trying.
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2022
i know that just by drinking i will not feel good
with myself, i need to write something:
drinking alone never made much sense...
drinking when partying and socialising...
drinking when going to night-clubs almost:
almost always failing to pick up girls...
**** me... at my lowest i still managed to flirt
with a girl, kiss her dance with her...
   i even walked her to the bus-stop...
before she asked me what i did:
i said i was unemployed... i sort of forgot to say
that i was a poet in the making...
perhaps that's why i don't think i'm an alcoholic:
although... in a week's worth?
    i probably drink... how many units is a bottle
of whiskey?! 40... 4 x 7 =... ****... 3 x 7 = 21...
add a 7... that's 28... then add a zero...
i drink close to about 300 units of alcohol per week...
ha ha... and on the bottles?
   it reads: chief medical examiner for England
suggests that adults do not exceed drinking no more
than 14 units per week...
ha ha ha...                             ah ha...
i have a worried mind... i already said to myself:
like Prometheus... i'll sacrifice my liver to salvage
my mind...

and i'm willing to sacrifice years of my life into
my mortality's "winter" for the current ride...
i know the risks... i'm just really worried about being
constipated... and... eternity... eternity is a dawn
with a night before a day...
it's scaring me... should all of it be true...
well... the thought started scary... eternity?!
while all these insects live only days...
with infanticide and the neunormen

new-norms and old-taboos...
and then back to new-taboos and old-norms...
some people think time is linear... given history...
some people think time is cyclic...
we read history with a grain of salt and hindsight
and repeat our mistakes...
i? i think time is a sea-saw...
we're like a tide... a tide comes in...
a tide goes out... sometimes we appear
spectacular... like at the height of the Roman Empire
of the zenith of Greek intellectual curiosity...
then we fall back... allow for barbarian invasions...
what was spectacular about Ancient Greece
became Byzantine: i.e. bureaucratic...
muddled... the only great aspect of Byzantine
culture was the chants...
oh sure... the Greco-Judeo pact did undermine
the Latin influence...
the New Testament is a testament of the Greco-Judeo
pact: to undermine the Roman Empire...
no?

     it isn't? oh... come on... the myths because over time
myths: given time...
go along the pyramid "scheme" of:
mythology "<" history "<" journalism "<"...
          aha! now poetry comes to the fore...
which way are we going to go? "<" or ">"?
  what a wonky looking L... or Γ (gamma)...
then again... maybe it's one of those weird
"Copernican" Vs....
   right... how now: write the plural of vvvvvv...
without the apostrophe that's also
suggestive of v's... i.e. V owns a lawnmower?
right... move the apostrophe along... Vs'...
because... it's not versus: hence no vs. <---
  the full stop...

to reiterate: i learned to constrain my frustrations
on Samuel Beckett's Watt...
i remember one sunny afternoon
lying in a park and laughing from frustration
at the complications of the language...
laughing out loud: getting a wave hello from a small
boy walking back from school with his mother...
i wasn't laughing at anything particular
or for that matter universal, just the per se...

how else? vs' or vees or vvvvvvv etc.?
plenty of v v v v v v v
                 < < < < < < < <
                > > > > > > > > > ?

we haven't moved that much from the ancient
world... where letters had a duality of being used
as phonetic encoding symbols and mathematical
constants after all...
VI + IX = XV
    6 (b) + 9 (P) = 15 (IS)

now i would to being an alcoholic is i simply
drank to drink...
but i'm writing... i need creative juices...
if i'm not jerking off to pictures of mature
women... Ava Lauren... come on...
it's a Porsche of a body...
i don't need to watch anything... just the photograph
and i leave the rest to the imagination:
although compared to the cinema of memory:
the cinema of my imagination lasts at outbursts...
sure... if i were simply drinking...
to "cope": drinking before a mirror
and falling asleep with a hand placed in a bucket
of water to wet my bed...
yeah... then i'd join some A.A.... ahem...
midday "group therapy session"...

but i'm busy... well into the morning hours...
scribbling like "mad" like... the monk who wrote
the Codex Gigas...
       me? devil or my own ego? i like my garden...
only today before my expedition i offered
two plums to my neighbour and my mother...
i brought these kind fallings in my hand outstretched
in my palm... washed... obviously...
but i didn't usher in any confusion:
no conflation of knowledge
regarding: what's good (universal)
   with what's evil (particular)... hello!
                       Greco-Judeo conspiracy...

wow! Δ delta... that's not the "letter"
Pythagoras worked with... is it?
   he was working out why either L or Γ
have either \ or / missing respectively, no?
          but delta? Δ? that's an isoscoles...
now... i dare to wonder: akin to Heidegger:
  question-worthiness arises from a spontaneity...
questions asks themselves...
people just need to find them...
this is but one example...

you know when you're sitting in a garden...
and you hear a shoom echo in the sky...
but can't see anything...
right... there's a jumbo-jet flying over your
garden... you hear it first...
seconds later you see you...
**** the chicken and the egg dynamic for normal
people saluting the mantra of passive
curiosity...

what came first?
Δ or the triangle?! that's a big question:
a question that Wittgenstein could only appreciate...
since he wrote so sparingly:
but i have to admit... his stance on tautology:
the thesaurus... mine: on thesaurus rex...
and the dictionary omnibus...
                          i want to repay Samuel Beckett
with the same frustrations he poured onto me...
this is my revenge... i want to fry brains and then:
freeze them...
            
what came first? Δ (the letter) the sound...
Da da da or the triangle?
my guess is: ****... i've already answered it...
with what?! the use of ******* pyramids...
but how Δ morphed into D and how did the pyramids
become abstract "all of a sudden"?
ah... the glory days of Greek intellectual curiosity...
its genesis... oh too suddenly ***** by:

the myth of the origins of Rome...
the Aeneid: a Trojan holiday in Tuscany after the fall
of Troy...
    
but no... i couldn't simply drink and pretend
to look into a mirror...
i wish i could have been a painter:
then again: no...
i can't leave "****" to abstracts: to some "suppose so...."
"suppose" he "thought" this blah blah blah-*******...
ever get "*****" by a South African
with ****-friction that was so bad
you thought you were getting circumcised
of putting your phallus inside an enlarged earthworm's
mouth-gut?
    i have... it's not a pleasant experience...
knock-knock on wood... ****... not wood:
knock-knock on bone: i.e. my forehead...
               what a terrible **** that was...
and she was raised in society... a teacher at some
boarding school... all boys...
******* cocoon ***... in the dark...
under the bed-sheets... never... ever! again!
but at least i now know what a slightly timid
beached whale of a ****-blonde stereotype looks
like...
           dry ***** are the worst...
seriously: it felt like ****...
on to occasions i had problems with getting a hard
on with prostitutes...
this one time: fair enough...
it was my first time having a *******...
obviously i was nervous...
but when i was... ahem #metoo "*****"...
i was as hard as a fiddle...
   what the **** did she spike the food with?!

well.. what's done is done... Johnny Depp was believed:
a fully documented affair...
ah... this conflation on the basis of the word AND...
it's not like "he" said: and you will know
the difference between either good or evil...
that "we" will know the difference between
good AND evil... knowing our ontology:
we'd be prone to entertain good as evil...
and evil as good... in the latter instance:
the more lasting, entertaining prospect...
               aligned with our hoarding sentimentalities...

Kierkegaard was onto something...
but he just didn't have the bilingual or the "autistic" /
"schizophrenic" focus to drill the baron of 90
into a corner and establish grandiose architecture...

it's one bad "thing" after another...
the fact that i might be drinking and not scribbling:
an opportunity wasted...
but the fact that i can't find the right sort of music
to listen to while i scribble...
hell... if i could write in silence...
but it usually takes one song...
a song passed down...
BRYGADA KRYZYS - to co czujesz, to wiesz:
Crisis Brigade - what you feel, is what you know...
sampled from an album from 1992...
Poland... i never imagined them being
so bilingual... how did i arrive at the song choice?
i was revisiting Edinburgh trying to get back together
with my ex-Russian lass...
  failure... she was already on a "different " path...

three nights in a hostel... left to a ****** couple...
i was only "scouted" when talking to some Slovak...
i got drunk and my English veneer drooped...
**** me... i had a wild night in Cracow
a day after...
i was fending myself from this waggling tongue
taxi driver who caught me
squeezing at my "major-phlegm" residue tool
trying to find an alley-way...
scary story... teenage girls not invited...

but i was in a hostel with this couple from Warsaw...
best name for a capital anywhere...
compare War-Saw with Bang-****...
ha ha... so she was this tall girl...
pristine like a ballerina...
played netball or whatever the hell tall girls play...
we were roaming Edinburgh and we
came across a charity shin-dig
and i exclaimed: oh.. what a nice acoustic (guitar)...
immediately... she retorted:
i hope you return to Warsaw and find
a nice girl for yourself...
i.e.                      not her?!

what a hyper-democratic reality we're all living in
right now...
   i'm not going to see her again...
i can see her like i can see my great-grandad...
a shadow... a figment of my imgation: almost...
"almost" being the fact that she recommended
this song for me: feeding me this idiotic self-worth-sence
delusion of comparative "literarture":
i'm John Peel...
  but my speciality is outside the realm of
the English speaking world...

wasn't today spectacular?
   it sort of began... "it sort of": began with me cringing
at an accident waiting to happen...
some white-van man was exiting a Tesco carpark...
too high... too high... jeeze!
sraped his ladder clean: proof off of this roof...
helped him out... became a 5 minute part-time
traffic warden... he ease back...
i picked up the pieces... you alright mate?
we had it sorted...

then on a whim... roughly... from Havering Road
to Edgware Road?
****... if i was going to cycle down Oxford St...
i would be cycling with a copy of Ovid to read in Hyde
Park.... instead? i cycled via Central London...
Chancery Lane: just before Holborn... and *******
Holborn Circus...
**** me... London looks weird without a tube-map...
it's 4-D geography...

if Donald Trump was playing 4D chess...
then i'm orientating myself around 4D geography...
on a bicycle... having formerly used
the buses and trains and the tube of London...
to hell with that load of trans-Atlantic *******...
sure sure...
you say one more ******* thing
along the lines of SLAV(e)... say it...
say it's "etymologically" sound...
say it... now that you have? ****** ****** ****** ******...
not the same?!
you have a problem? i don't have a problem...
i can tell the difference between a Somalian
a Nigerian and a Kenyan?
we're? having? spelling? issues?

English "public intellectuals"; them!
you add that ******* epsilon to the word Slav-
and? i'll just cut off the suffix -an
from the word GERMAN...
           ******* filth! GERMS!
    **** or ****** is not an isolated
instance... but then again: i trust the Russian
to use their bayonets more than i trust them
to use their tongues...
and that's wrong... since... they could readily
people the shadow-people of the shadows
of people...

    i've been ******* for quiet some time....
i'm ready to pounce... bite at something pulsating...
i ask the song i'm listening to on repeat:
what's my problem?
i can't say ******...
but some English ******* can add
an E to my ethnicity and equate me
to SLAVE... what etymological guarantee
does he: GERM...have?
                            i'm currently in the process
of eradicating a rat from my house...
GERMANIC PEOPLES ARE VERMIN...
THEIR WOMEN ARE EASY TARGET ****...
what?!

the "situation" is a lot different from what
it was under the deconstruction of the Soviet Empire...
now all i see... the deconstruction of
the Capitalistic hegemony...
hell... i bet that even Vietnam is on board!

Slav(e)?! NIGGERNIGGERNIGGERNIGGER...
what he **** are you going to, do?!
sure... you're not a racist..
you're just an etnicist! ETHNICIST!
inter-racial biases: Russophobia:
all Russians are "bad": when they say they are...
you...

   sie fickin rattekeimemesch.....

'__'
'
'     ''      Li - i.e. fire... as a trigram
'
__'       ******* toaf-face "smile":
to suggest "fire"...

i completely abhor leaving poems began one evening
and not finished:
squatting thoughts enter this abandoned housed...
and i can't strain my desire to keep
with the concept of Ensо̄:
                                                  エンソー

a poem completed in one sitting: i'm not a novelist:
i'm a "poet"... i don't have the luxury to retain
days and days on a composition:
what i start i must finish... i can't allow myself
this luxury of a novelist...
hit the iron while its hot comes to mind...

mind you: what's the difference between a proverb
and a maxim?
    i think that... maxims are conjured up whims...
half-truths... statements without justifications
or if they are grounded in any justifications:
they are for French ballrooms
for Confucian strict MING obligations...

                        maxims are untested truths...
maxims are: to say the least: not proverbs in that
they are hardly mystifying...
like this Slavic proverb:
   better a sparrow in your hand than a dove
upon your roof...
      oh: i know what that means...
better your own happiness than the happiness
of your household: and not out of selfish reasons?
if you are content... the contenteness can seep out
of you... and into the household...
why? you have a ******* sparrow in your hand...
who cares about a dove on your roof?

problem... i forgot what i was writing about yesterday...
i made notes:

- Mashiter's Hill
- King Rat
- щ "vs.": -ść                       me?!
invent a letter?! ha?!


well... i was so close so close to finishing...
Godsmack is touring... i think i'm going to try to get a ticket
for one of their gigs...
they're currently my favourite rock band...

Mashiter's Hill... oh... this little hill with a park...
i can walk up it and i usually drink a beer on
one of the benches... from it...
i have a pristine panorama of London...
   me? i'm at the utmost north-eastern tip of Greater
London...
                  it's London and it's "London"...
anything outside of the A406 is hardly anything beside
the Home Counties...
i wish other English people would cut the Essex
folk some slack... esp. the women...
     to me they're nuns...
or... as i recently found out... i'm unapproachable by
women... unless they're really drunk...
i'm just recounting what i hear:
a ******* will tell me i'm beautiful
a drunken woman in her 40s will tell me i'm ****...
do i make any moves on that?
    hardly... i like su doku puzzles: not headaches
caused by women...

but only yesterday i did a 50+ mile journey there
and back to Edgware Road to... hmm...
drink a Thai beer...
                    there's no point having a cycling session
less than the length of a marathon...
i stopped off at Chadwell Heath and bought myself
some fish sticks (45% Surimi - Alaskan *******,
   Hake and some crab) - of the 16 in the packet
i gulped down 14... it's such a bad idea
to cycle that sort of distance without having eating
anything... toward Edgware Road i was cycling
in a trance... literally i was honing in on an abstract
black hole as an ink blotch just ahead of me...
   but coming back? the low sugar levels kicked in...
i lost concentration... ah... i'm burning fat resources...

well... i tried cycling drunk once... Francis Bacon
painting-esque sort of bruising... never again...
but that didn't stop me from cycling...
in heavy traffic...
    on top of Mashiter's Hill i admired the distance
i covered... oh look... cycled past the Docklands
and Canary Wharf... went past the Shard...
all the way up to Hyde Park...
tomorrow i'm going to repeat the journey...
maybe i'll get a chance to meet up with Dan
and he might sneak me in to watch some Pearl Jam...
i was sent a text today about a possible shift...

**** me... hierarchies... SIA licensing...
no stewards welcome...
              fair enough, no problem read my reply...
i'd love to see that band... but i'll cycle there anyway
and maybe get a whiff of the music...

king rat? yeah... that one...
    i'm currently working on getting rid of a rat in my kitchen...
had to removed all the foods from the cupcoards
near to the ground...
  smart *** *******... or fatherfucker...
either Oedipus or Electra... either way...
i have smart cats...
but i never thought i'd have a smart rat...
falling asleep feels sort of weird...
    it's not like having a parasite in your body...
i have a rodent in my house...
   the party starts circa 12am... it starts moving...
i tried cheddar in mouse traps...
i.e. why do i think this rat is smart?
         well... em...
                (s)he doesn't simply eat the cheese
and doesn't get caught...
   (s)he ***** off with the mousetraps!
             i had to buy / replace the mousetraps
with rat traps... basically guillotine equivalent machinery...
if that "thing" snapped at my fingers
i think i'd be left with a broken finger, or two...
but what sort of rat takes the cheese
and the mousetrap with it into the darkness
of his hiding Eden?!

            i'm reluctant to use rat poison...
i'm sort of hoping for a Robespierre's clean cut...
snap... i don't want to **** the poor ******
by snapping its snout... i want to **** it
by crushing its neck... i don't want it bleeding from
its snout: to dead...
            sure... i'd love the Disney adventure
of Mickey... but if it only ate the food... but chewing
on cables... i have a ******* washing machine
and a dishwasher... it starts chewing on that:
i'm ******... smartest rat i've ever encountered:
courtesy of my Nigerian neighbour performing some
voodoo rituals at night leaving food
in the garden thinking he was feeding pigeons...
even one of my cats brought me two dead younglings
after catching them...
i know a rat is a rat and a mouse is a mouse...
mice are timid... rats? the i.q. shoots up...
****'s sake... it's not enough to take the cheese
and not get caught... it also has to take the trap
with him... what? knowing rats...

even if its tail was caught... it'd chew it off...
   it would mane itself in order to scuttle into shadow
and dust into a future...
two songs come to mind:
Pearl Jam vs. Ghost: RATS...
                  of course i prefer the former...
but a rat's a rat... and a washing machine is a washing
machine... i feel bad about killing it...
please don't let me use poison pebbles...
but?

   **** me... last point... right... the English point
about "too many vowels" in the ****** lingo?
sure... well... if the Serbs could incorporate the Latin J...
i think i can make a bypass...

what's rat in ******? szczur...
exactly... what instances allows me to...
first of replace the Z with H and use it in Ing-leash?
CHeap... ****... but not together...
the idiosyncrancy of the tongue that belongs
to itself...

but there's an alternative... borrowed from Cyrillic...
personally? i don't mind using it...
spares me "details"...
i know that Hebrew hides letters:
notably vowels... like diacritical marks...
i know certain languages hide letters...
this is perfect...

   щur = szczur...
                  less consonants for you?! happy?!
there are plenty of words that couple
the SH+CH / SZ+CZ dynamic...
щotka: brush...
          ah... i can do away with SZCZ via (щ)...
but there's a doubled conundrum...
with a word like:

sincerity: szczerość....
          see... i can do away with the "excesses" of Z)
щero

but even Russian Cyrillic doesn't have
a compounding... diphthong...
****... we're not talking about diphthongs... are we?
diphthongs require two vowels...
we're not talking about vowel "transgenderism"...
we're talking about 3 consonants merging...
so...
   it's not a diphthong... not that i care to look
for the SHCH curiosity... but i haven't found
a name for it...
   but we're talking about letters without diacritical
markers... well... "technically":
you could...

                         šč-        
                                     but that doesn't appear in Czech...
only in ****** and Russian...

                     šč- = щ
          
           yes... the prefix hyphen is necessary...

because that's exactly my point:

   dość!                   enough!

where: šč- = щ does exist?
                 -ść = ?          yeah... there's not Cyrillic equivalent...
i would have to invent a letter!
and i don't have the capacity to just conjure such
a letter up...

i've mentioned this before: it's annoying me...
the etymological crux of falsehood...
among the Anglo-Saxons...
that the etymological root of Slav is written
with a missing "e" via "slave"...
sacred words? niggerniggernigger...
hard to giggle?! the extra G too much?!
i'm offended, too...
           let me relay this message to the Russians...
they might rough up some UPA Ukranians...
no matter... better warring among "ourselves"
than having foreign influencces...
Communism was only born out of Pan-Slavism...
we tried... we failed: good to know we failed...
now the western world is playing the fools' bargaining
chips... i'm just looking on and thinking:
it's just a matter of time... before there will come
a canyon, a crater from what would otherwise
dispel the dinosaur's and leave us with
nothing but crocodiles and serpents...

i'm looking for ingenuity in creating a letter...
akin to

šč- = щ
                                                                ­ -ść = ?          
                     i want
more wounds to lick... or rather:
i want a single mum's dog to lick m knuckles...
i want to listen to more Godsmack: pretend angry...
i want anger: i want furore:
i want energy... i want sweets...
i don't really think i need that much fibre...
that much fat... that many high-tier carbohydrates
to take more time to break down:
i think i need to look for a different brothel...

all the Chinese ideas... but written without ideograms...
without ******* traffic colours...
why is it green and not blue to imply: GO!
blue? water?!
           then again... makes sense...
"sense"... i feel autistic by now...
mix blue with yellow... what do you get? green?
two-birds with one stone motto...
              
i can't just create a letter... on the spot...
it will take years to counter the Cyrillic prefix
with a Pollack suffix...
   like my inability to paint the fence...
i just can't do it...
              i'm painting a fence... i'm not painting
a worth of canvas...
i can't: i'll blame it one the roses...
but the roses are not the problem...
the painting itself is the problem...
                    
       all the Chinese ideas...
but... without the ideograms...
written in Katakana... or best.. in Hanguel...
without the ideograms...
"emoticons"...
            death is not a respiting fellow;
death is a harrower of an inevitable harvest.

i just wrote a corruption of what i should
have believe in with
a contending contentment.
mi alma is made of pineapple fabric,
bartered in the palengkes of San José,
nothing like the silk of Manileño prep-school boys,
in their country clubs and villages with gates,
classmates whom I envied for their patrician ways,
whose diphthongs I eventually learned to emulate
as I dyed my pineapple-fabric soul with neon desires,
neon as bright as New York City lights,
and put on an invisible muzzle on my face.
but what was harder to wash away from my soul of piña
was the stench of garlicky stews we ate in San José,
so foul that even aswangs kept their distance,
'stead of ******* me out of my mother’s womb and taking me away,
throw me up deformed somewhere in the UK,
deformed like the glorified mongrels that are my cousins,
those UCL-educated mestizos, or was it LSE?
oh, maybe my life wouldn’t have been so ******* mierda,
in a corporate attire with a three-thousand pound pay!
but unfortunately, I wear my alma of pineapple fabric
masticated by the teeth of unsolicited advice,
fragrant with cathedral incense, heavy with the guilt
of having been cummed on by ersatz lovers, ‘straight’ best-friends
whom I’ve cut out of my life like overgrown fingernails,
for tripping over loose threads and undoing my soul,
oh, yes, I get lonely without my BFFs, but at least
I still have mi alma de piña, my greatest source of pride,
fragile pride as fragile fabric must be dry-cleaned monthly
at Au Beau Blanc, Gallardo Street, Makati City,
elegant but indeed makati (which is Tagalog for really really itchy)
remember: don’t you ever dare to wash me in the Machine!
or as I like to call it the Lacanian Other clothed in moreno skin,
castrative, repressive, myopic Manilense society, nope!
I will not go to spinning class with synthetic souls ever again
cannot chismis anymore about Manila scandals over brunch,
because my soul is made of pineapple fabric
and pineapple easily tears apart at the seams,
shedding its fibers behind in faraway places,
foster cities and countries with their irrevocable stains,
like those of chimichurri and malbec in Buenos Aires,
Debería haber nacido en Buenos Aires, I always like to say
‘cause it would be more chic to drown myself in Rio de Plata
than the ****** waters of ******* Manila Bay.
Pues, thank God, I didn’t, because now estoy en Spain
and of vermut ***** con aceitunas I am always inebria—
ted, waxing nostalgic for a time when these white men
would’ve scoffed to see an Indies dress,
would’ve asked my pineapple fabric soul to untuck,
scared to be stabbed by some concealed, mystical kris,
but no! don’t get me wrong! I love Mother Spain!
but I don’t think I belong here either,
nor in Buenos Aires or the United States,
nor will I belong again in any one of those seven thousand isles,
which my fingers fidget with like the rosaries I pray
to call out to the god of overseas workers,
the patron saint of the unmoored, the new cosmopolitan
oh, please help me conquer, for the sake of mi alma en pena
hecha de piña
, now ruined, stinky, sullied, stained,
help me find a street, an enclave, a hamlet, or a shore
just somewhere—a corner to feel not so out of place.
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2022
no... no former interest in the Finnish: kieli...
hmm... let's compare...
Finnish... Estonian... Latvian... Lithuanian...
Hungarian... what's zunge: tongue in each?
the Suomi say: kieli...
            in ******: the closest approximate is:
klei: it glues together... klel: glue...
well... the tongue does just that...
    hmm... no bewilderment here:
Eesti say: keel
           Latvijas says: mēle
                                   slightly off the chart...
Lithuanians... immediately all the prior
languages drop dead...
because the translation is: nicht zunge wie in
                     glied... körperteil...
               aber zunge ist sprache...
   since...
liežuvis is tongue: tongue proper... the waggling...
ice-cream licking bit...
(lje-ju-vis) the ju is Fwench: from je suis...
             but... oh what a dear word...
   KALBA... that's language to a Lithuanian...
the young Huns use: NYELV for language...
i'm not even going to bother finding the word
for the waggling part of: irritated teeth...
          this almost feels like a 4th Jemminah revelation...
can i possibly scare women?
are they sort of, like... almost... sisters?!
they don't want me finding them in a bad mood?
in their casual framework of relexation
before the television?
        mind you: yeah... that would be boring...
if i became a domesticated animal...
even though... i'm sort of domesticated...
but... when *** is involved...
              oh right... i hold the joker card in
my Texas hold-up game of poker...
    i've spent time with prostitutes... so...
box is box... kasten ist kasten...
                 i must have scared her...
                         i was willing to become a surrogate
father to her child... the penny dropped
when i read the boy his poem back to him aloud...
and said: wow... and it was a literal wow...
or when her dog was licking my ears
and my self-inflicted cigarette burns on
the knuckles... until i started bleeding...
      that i brought her a banana loaf and asked
if her boy had any nut allergies...
           the self-made wine... cloudy... so i bought
a bottle of franziskaner weissbier (also cloudy)
so she wouldn't think she was drinking poison...
    then come Valentine's day i dropped off a bouquet
of flowers on her doorstep in the middle of the night
and dropped a card inside...
   well... she did mention that this guy was trying
to "court" her... but... yeah... this part...
it took him 20 years to gather the courage...
   when i heard that... the time we came back in
the same car... and she feigned tiredness and put her
elbow on my leg... and sort of relaxed...
   right: *****-head on... i'm driving this one home...
i.e. i'm going in for the ****...
   in warfare it would be called Blitzkrieg...
in casual social relations it would be called
the: juwelansturm... charm offensive...
                   esp. after some time you learn that...
at least 3 single mothers are scouting for...
for... i don't even know what at this point...
                  oh man... and she even had a vinyl player
and i was like: can we meet in a few days time...
i have this record i'd like you to listen with me...
   backstabbing reality: she's a tarantula mummy...
she'll eat the male in order to raise her offspring...
                           safety in the brothel...
                                    to be honest... she was actually...
generous... because she let me go... ghosted me...
blocked me from messaging me... even though...
      i've already seen her, twice already... when cycling...
once at night: her face beaming larger than the moon
with... i don't know what it was...
another time... walking with...
the most unremarkably looking man...
   just a little bit taller than her... and i'm guessing she
was... at most... a 5ft3...
              but not when the same love interest
is spreading rumours on her first day at work
about you being drunk on the job...
              well: i do know that i drink to excess...
i do have drinking ******... i tend to drink for about 4 people...
but when i need to be sober:
i'm sober... why do we need to be sober...
i will never know... but...
            eh... therefore? the charm-offensive had
to be put in place...
   as i told one of the other co-conspirators:
there's this ****** proverb...
           lies... or is it liars?
    lies don't walk on stilts...
        lies / liars have short legs...
                 lies are not longshanks...
         time... all it took was time...
                                but at the same time...
it's so frustrating... i'd love to **** a single mum...
i mean: her libido must be... exponential...
   shoom! a ******* comet!
                  esp. if she's raising a boy rather than a girl...
i should know... Khedra... the *******
i have unprotected *** with is a single mum...
but she has a daughter... prettiest **** thing in the world...
and her libido is a rave... a rage... a... a...
don't go there... i mean: i go there...
but... yeah...
                          and Jeminnah was this petite auburn
ginger **** good looking "thing"...
what Rodin sculptures i could have had with
her in the bedroom...
                                   ugh... it's sick... it's truly sick...
framework... just to ensure the boy isn't there...
but she... actually behaved rather admiringly...
she... actually... spared me...
   all the disappointments that would inevitably
come... if i went... no... if she went forward and
made herself more "available"... ***-friendly...
                 i still don't know why i like writing about this...
it sort of sooths me... or i'm having trouble trying
to write about something new...
therefore i regurgitate this little event in my head...
because i'm trying to find explanations
not excuses - certainly not dejections...
   or harbouring a resentment for women...
           i think she behaved... like a doe would...
     and i have actually run with doe and their young once...
at a traffic junction... there was no stag...
they became lost... traffic mayhem...
run them back into the woods...
                seriously: i can't even be bothered
to imagine **** anymore... life's as it comes... and goes...
so she did behave like a doe...
        frightened little thing...
              well... if you come across a guy and your
dog finds him irresistible...
  your little boy wonder becomes sort of scared
of an authority figure... or rather:
doesn't look at your boyfriend as an older brother...
like my neighbour once said:
better jerking off in heaven
than ******* in hell... i guess she should know...
****... better change that term juwelansturm
to... reizkrieg... yes... much better...
              but i still don't get it: how socially backward,
lacking any sort of introspection / self-awareness
must you have... to... do a Mr. Bean move...
knowing how cut-throat women are against
each other... to... have about 4 women gather against
you for slandering someone: you just met
and are working with?
            maybe i have a mind the size of pigeons...
but... at least that sort of brain size allows me
to have a Sat-Nav implant...
   i still can't get over how much drama i just avoided...
i was about to step into a hot pile of ****...
i truly was willing...
           how she allowed her former boyfriend...
well... her son's older brother... by my take on things...
to run her in over £10,000 of debt... implying she lost
her credibility to work in the financial sector...
i have a square head... i'm trying to fit a rectangle into it...
it's not going to work...
   and i'm not even solipsistic / autistic...
(a) why would you tell me your life story so endearingly,
   while also slandering me...
(b) why would you tell me your life story
and not something you enjoy doing... the music you like?
(c) women mature faster than men?!
   you're kidding me, right?
    that's like that Egyptian fwend i once had...
absolute ***... even the Pakistani said...
we're supposed to meet up for the movies...
no... forget fashionably 15 minutes late...
  sometimes... an hour late... **** those sort of people...
waste of air... never mind time...
but i'm the sort of person that is: in love with the idea of love...
in liebe mit die idee von liebe...
   but i was truly treading on egg-shells while walking into
a SHAMBO'H... szambo = septi tank...
           - mind you: self-deprecating humour does help:
a lot...
    while the only use of the diminutive tense in English
i was able to find was, associate with... making nouns
ugly... "nouns" well... like Matthew becomes Matt
Peter become Pete... Anthony becomes Tony...
Joshua becomes Josh... Samuel / Samantha becomes
Sam... it's ******* ugly... it's diminutive "diminutive":
just ******* lazy... like do not becomes don't...
Pakistani becomes ****-,
               at least where i come from: diminutive is
diminutive: i.e., it's endearing...
because something smaller is always cuter...
you want to tend to it more...
KACHKA'H (kaczka) becomes kaczuszka...
drzewo become drzewko (tree, little tree)...
tygrys: tygrysek (tiger, little tiger)
jabłoń: jabłonka
   it's the diminutive but it's also... refreshing:
lying about the thing's temporal quotation...
which also makes it a funny reading into history...
that **** Germany thought of themselves as
Aryans...
    yet... the ******-lack-lands further east entertained
the infusion with the Sarmatians...
an Iranian... Aryan tribe...
        and we are... "we" are... i am... very *******
refreshed to defend my mutterzunge...
sure... i'll keep it subdued: if i had a keyboard that
would allow me easier access to the orthography...
i don't think i'd write in English...
probably not...
         even Charles Dickens can't call it orthography
whether it's weather or little or litle...
   there's no orthography where they are no diacritical
marks... akin to U contra Ó
   or epsilon contra eta...
                 mind you: the Byzantines are hyper-sensitive
to γλώσσα - even now... upsilon, omicron: omega...
why need to stress: give the omega the acute
accent? i know it's gloossa... shouldn't that accent
be put to better use in order to make the English
looking proto-Germanic ᛋᛋ (schutzstaffel)
disappear? too many ******* consonants in ******...
i heard that argument before...
    too many diphthongs in yours... or at least lacking
one: IE... that ought to be a diphthong...
aye... i... die... dye... different... dynamic... dip...
where's an affirmative-iota in... the last three examples?!
surely you don't say: dype... when you write: dip...
do you?
             all of U in you...
                             yes... i do feel linguistically superior...
but it's not a superiority of: "my" people write
language in a... oh ****... now i remember...
the best comparison comes...
like this project of twinning towns...
Havering was twinned with Ludwigshafen...
the ****** language... lodged between Russian and
Deutsche... neither... the best alliance
is with... the clarity and sensibility of: Japanese...
that's the closest i've come to compare my mother-tongue...
Japanese...
   it's the clarity of syllables... of actual letters...
sure... Japanese has restrictions on its consonants...
since they have to be coupled with vowels...
except... why is N no ******* unique?
i could understand H... from the Hebrews...
since... that's a vowel catcher of sighs and eh?! conclusions
and a vowel generator of: ah ha ha... i.e. laughter...
so... what?! the Japanese laugh akin to...
Ini Kamoze's: here comes the hot stepper?
na'h na'h na'h?        oh: wight... no trill of the R...
no rattle-snakes back there...
i guess you could laugh on a Na (sodium)
and No (know very little)...
      next time i'll catch myself laughing i'll ditch
the H and borrow the ン (N)...
but... hmm.. weird... Sejong the Great might agree with me...
something's up...
i'm itching... now... Korean makes more sense...
to hell with the Chinese skeleton... x-ray...
hieroglyphs... ideograms... brick wall:
too much memory gone to waste...
        no phonetic clues... just enough geology...
pressure... time... erosion... to memorise...
   not going to happen...
  that's why you're never going to invade China...
but something is up in Katakana...
if N (ン) has such a unique place among / apart from
other consonants...
that it has the same sort of status as the vowels
(ア) A or (オ) O...
海 - kai... ocean... phonetically dropping the ideogram
("emoticon") you'd get: カイ...
but if N is so uniquely placed as an A...
why... would you require...
       to merge this unique consonant with the unique
vowels?
      why do you need this?
ナ ニ ヌ ネ ノ: na, ni, nu, ne, no?!

isn't N unique like the vowels that it can stand uncoupled
with vowels? so... if it can't be stand-alone akin
to vowels... why keep it: "unique"?!

ン   ア   イ   ウ   エ   オ

   fair enough... i'm far from Japanese... but i still don't understand
why you need to disfigure the unique N by a vowel...
and i'm trying to figure out the logic...
how, for example:  ン + ア = ナ...
since... exactly... since...
                         there's no equivalent to the N + A = NA
for any other consonant in Japanese...
there's no R + A = RA... since... there's no R!
no really... let's see... RA: ラ... ア (A)...
              so... what's the R? it's almost like a diacritical mark

laughter in "anime" / ******: ハ ハ
) (                   close enough... but if the H is invoked...
how does A morph in "opposing" chiral, mirror?
   ア? ア + ? = ハ: ha... ha ha... ha... eh?
and the obvious restrictions... consonants take the lead...
when fused with letters...
you can't find AN or an AM or a AT in japanese...
you can only find NA MA and TA...
- if i'm going to become prone to dementia in old age...
sure... then... i'll travel to Amsterdam and
juice up on some chew of a handful of magic
mushrooms... a reiteration of how fungus hitchhiked
the money brain... but not until then:
i'm good... on this linguistic plateau, for now...

- lessons from yesterday... H'american women are
insufferable... apologies...
i can understand tight yoga pants... flick of the hair...
exposing... or rather... exfoliating in one's peach
*** physique... but dressed...
it really makes all the more sense to align oneself
with the Muslim women... i truly: truly abhor this
current... libido insomnia... which implies...
by the time i get some: i don't want it...
which means... the pattern of going to the brothel
to get a hard-on... i need to exercise in short exhausting
bouts like a boxer... i need to ******* without
actually ******* for a few rounds...
and i need to drink an aphrodisiac like white wine...
and then i'm good to go...
    
we've been so overtly sexualised we've become...
sterilized by overexposure...
i'm serious... perhaps the NIQAB is not so much
about female oppression but...
to ensure the male libido is kept intact: focused...
since... men become easily bored if there is no
existential stress... we tend to ******* and pursue
**** like: geometry... linguistics...
yeah: "bored"... no... we find alternative avenues
to cope with life...
       and by a common demonitor:
we're no adherents to the doctrine of Darwinism...
most of us would **** for the Copernican focus
of reality... but... this whole idea of passing on
our genes? sorry...
even i see what sort of men pass on their genes...
passive men... mediocre men...
humanity has made Darwinism unnatural...
**** Germany tried the orthodox method
best associated to Darwinism...
why did it fail?
  like that Matrix quote from Agent Smith...
people... people... just enjoy misery...
it's what makes them thrive...
populus... populus... fruor miseriae...
                                                    in miseriae illi vigeo!
i tried... to accomplish "something" worth the dignity
of calling it: human... personally? i can only attest
to... mengelegeschrei! kinship...
                  it wasn't worth it...
                  trying to love people is one thing...
it's so disturbing doing such a feat...
the whole inclusivity project...
   when you don't have exclusive rights to one person...
maybe only swans figured it out...
but... it's so... ******* chimp-sour...
so psychologically backwards...
             i'm not even irritated, disinterested or... stressed...
calmly, collectively... backtracking...
i'm getting bored of this libido insomnia...
   what if i were to showcase my underwear bulge?!
that would be deemed as ****** harassment... wouldn't it?
i've seen messages on the tube...
LOOKING... ooh... you look at some in a lecherous mood!
handcuffs! handcuffs!
               TOUCHING! can't i... touch you on the shoulder...
so you might... move aside... while i get off the tube?!
handcuffs! handcuffs!
      this society is beyond rotten...
rot is rot... it's... fermenting... into something
that... whatever propaganda the Soviet's would have
envisioned to throw at it... couldn't...
it ******* self-imploded...
   no no... this is a full-on self-implosion...
         you wish there was some post-Soviet involvement...
there was: zilch...
          
what was once the Soviet Empire... is not modern Russia...
oddlt enough...
   i'm so thankful that i spent over a month in Russia
and never once switched on the t.v. mind you:
i was in a "relationship" with a girl who told me
her grandmother was her mother..
and her mother was her sister...
   and she was still bangng her ex... with ties to
the government... blah blah...
faking having a period... but i thought *******
a woman on her period was all bonus?
fleshy crumbs on the ******...
   fair enough... i'm not sick on the sickly sweet bits...
i'm like a crab or a crow...
i pick up leftovers...
             but my eyes truly dim... the iris and the sclera
disappear... all you can see is the pupil...
when... libido insomnia over-exposure kicks-in...
i just stop thinking straight.. usually my mind is built
for vectors... geometry... but....
when i'm getting teased too much...
this is teasing... let's face it... and... i can't get a hard-on...
what would most do? a violent cause...
i don't think we're asking for nuns....
      we're asking for Black Narcissus types...
the tragedy of overtly sexualising men
into a future of impotence...
  while... deeming women: overvalued and...
            doomed to an existential failure of
single motherhood...
              it is a failure! there's no romance to speak of
if... she has a girl or a boy token!
and the socialism... the Soviet propagandists would
have never envisioned such an easy future of
argument....
capitalism will not fail out of ideology... if it is going
to fail: it will fail out of biology...
men will become so isolated from women
that men will... as men do: stop spending...
because they will not spend money on women...
why would i want to spend more than i already
spend on a bottle of whiskey and a bottle of pepsi and
a packet of cigarettes?
why? huh?! eh?!
                 i don't need to look "pretty"...
                   i'm already ugly...
                       reality dissonance... it's vibrating!
it's ******* vibrating! it's like: hum hum hum... humming...
insect wing flutter... coupled with KEISHA's song BLOW...
well... because the last time i cited
listening to
  COMBICHRIST... the girl blocked me...
      sent to destroy... it's such s nice... song...
  well... manner... tastes... one can't oysters all of one's
life... whoops... which is like: whpe + slippery + oops + i slipped...
ah ha: ba n'ah n'ah!

ad mors facio tuus venia!
   toward death: make your pardon!
Mateuš Conrad  May 2022
ZACCHARY
Mateuš Conrad May 2022
i mean: i can sit for about two hours drinking cider:
strong cider... Weston's cider comes in at 8.2%:
but unlike the equivalent of a strong beer...
well... the stronger the cider is: the drier it is...
it's not as sweet as that Irish one or that Swedish
one... at around 5%... it's too sickly sweet...
the genius of a good bottle of cider is when it tries
to imitate the strength of wine...
but two hours... sifting through a wide range of music...
dark-wave, post-punk...
    new-wave... a return to daft punk:
    the best time i ever had was listening to some daft
punk while having rolled my first marijuana cigarette...
lying on the floor next to my bed in Edinburgh
and convulsing with laughter...
   i guess the better drug was the fact that i was alone...
but three bottles in and still nothing...
you can write anything if you can't tap into the music
you're listening to...
ergo?
    (a) i need to switch gears... drank the cider...
moved onto the whiskey... o.k., now i'm feeling something...
and (b) i need music i associate with a thrill...
the thrill of a crowd...
    what are two main songs stadiums play
just when they realise the people are flooding the stadium?
usually it's either right here right now
by fat boy slim or... it's faithless' insomnia:
or that other song... we come one...
    and that's the prompt... now i'm feeling something...
it's like... you've been arranging something
in your head for the past two yours...
then the music prompt: the dam breaks and out comes
a cascade of words...
you pull the rubber-string up to the moment where
it might snap... and then: release!

i was so lucky having sat through last night's
thunder and lightning storm...
it was glorious to watch...
   i always wanted to capture a photograph
of: the roots of the sky... those white streaks of...
i'm sure that fire speaks...
   you can hear fire speaking in the fireplace...
by the crackling of the wood...
you can hear water speak: by the sound of a rushing
river or the bashing over the waves
as it fights the element of ear...
you can hear the earth speak through earthquakes,
landslides...
hell: you can also hear water speak
   in an avalanche...
     but lightning... lightning is the fifth element...
isn't it?
               electricity is not exactly heat:
heat is the byproduct of electricity...
           electricity being the technical term for what
inspired man: or rather the second "Prometheus"
of Norse mythology... when Thor broke Odin's heart
and brought down lighting to the people...

you can read intellectuals, philosophers, poets...
journalists... it's about standing outside of all space and time...
electricity wasn't invented...
you can hear lightning... but at the same time:
i once saw a stroke of lightning... but didn't hear
the thunder... because i also didn't see or feel any rain fall...
i call that: taubtrockenblitz...
      deaf-dry-lightning...
            
                   i forget what i would want to go to the cinema...
if there was one... that showed old black & white
films from the 50s and the 60s...
better still: those early acrylic looking colour
films from the era of Technicolour...
          i was in a cinema last night...
           i felt like a demigod...
                  everyone in my vicinity was asleep while
i was sitting through a lightning and thunder storm
and rain drinking with a smile on my face
like i might have just discovered the continent of
America in a can of sardines!

oh the thunderous disgruntlement... the sky is hungry:
some words sound better in other languages...

burczy mi w brzuchu (my stomach is growling...
    stomach rumbling)... buRRRRczy...

what's a HABAN? or an OSIŁEK?
   a male... who's strong... well built...
i'd prefer the former term than the later...
since the latter is etymologically tied to donkey:
i.e. OSIOŁ...

there are plenty of other peoples...

  - but that's how it goes... i need a prompt: song...
and until i'm finished what i've started:
right here right now... is currently on repeat...
i can't concentrate my writing if i have
to listen to the entirety of an album...
just one song: on a loop...

         most of the time: it's just a piece of a song...
because i need to concentrate...
i need to relive an atmosphere...
associated with a song...
              the size of the crowd at Wembley
is the perfect example when this song comes on...
i'm usually bound to tapping to the rhythm with
my feet... or if i'm bound to a vicinity
of a railing: i'll be using my hands...

currently there's work to be done in the garden...
i have my "great wall of China" of kango
(i never thought that the origins
of the noun for this tool was in Japanese:
Chinese language - カンゴ...

    why the special status of the letter N
in Japanese?!
switching songs... from fat boy slim to daft punk's
robot rock...
the N stand-alone among the vowels...
the only time you can actual write the indefinite
article that is complicated with a word
that begins with a consonant... not this time round:
you wouldn't write: with an consonant...
with A... consonant...

                    that's a massive mistake...
the N is employed when the indefinite article
encounters a word that begins with a vowel:
you can say: a fox...
    but you can't say a aeroplane...
        you have to stress: aN aeroplane...
                it's like a divorce from the ancient world
of the diphthong of the vowels...
i know some modern diphthongs...
but they're consonant related...
  
in english... SH... that's a diphthong...
you could SH as you might couple CH:
you get sheep and chatter...
   subtle... the apparent surd "nature" of the H...
i ascribe it to the Hebrew deity...
or... is it the Zipporah way...
                   the Midian woman...
    from the known smiths... origins bound to Cain...

why then... the Japanese place such high esteem
for the consonant N?
that it's: this: ン - the only stand-alone consonant...
with the vowels

ア(a) イ(i) ウ(u) エ(e) オ(o)
ナ(na) ニ(ni) ヌ(nu) ネ(ne) ノ(no)
アン(an) イ­ン(in) ウン(un) エン(en) オン(on)


and it's almost like for the "first" time you
can write the Latin prefix un-
   and write the English word: on...
and in... and... an...
                    and... AIN...

アהイン

                  whatever the soph implies...
i'm not bothered...
i need one H as the vowel catcher and the other
H as the instigator of laughter...

the work in the garden isn't even finished...
from here to there: i feel like being undercut
in my labour working in Auschwitz...
but i enjoy it... it means i don't have to cycle...
plus...
i get to prep the most cut of steak meat...
if i **** up: cooking a piece of steak?
i'm toast...
medium rare...
two of them are thicker cut than the third...
three minutes one side...
nothing but sea salt and pepper...
three minutes one side... two minutes the other
side... max...
i don't cut up the garlic...
i crush it... i like bold pieces of garlic in my mouth:
pockets of garlic...
plenty of butter... fries from the ol' chippy from
Friday: kept well in the fridge... can reheat them...

but i can't doubly butcher this beef...
i can't eat it well done...
it's one thing being a Hindu and not eating
beef... but it's another...
eating beef steaks well done...
why not?! try the alternative option:
of roast pork?!
if you're eating a steak: you want all the juice!
i'm a great fan of steak tartar...
i need to order a bleu steak sometime...
see if the people serving me get it right...

so why is N so special in Japanese?
   her name is Anna...
       アンナ
                         it's almost like watching Muslims
pray... the segregation of women from men...
the vowels are the women and the consonants
are the men...
but it's not that easy as simply that...
since vowels are free-standing...
and most men are free-standing bachelors...  

there's work to be done in the garden...
today i shifted half a tone of soil from pint x
to point y...
  the skip is still waiting for next week's Tuesday...
sooner me performing manual labour
than going to the gym...
   another half a tonne moved by tomorrow...

but for the past months: three? four?
the bane of my existence...
   a smartphone...
with what i can only describe as a "disappearing" screen...

the bane of my "existence":
the disappearing act of half of my screen turning
black... i was supposed to check it out...
get it "fixed"...
oh wow... what's "this" flickering at the bottom
of it?
a deficient app? Samsung Pay...
it kept flickering and...
readily... eating away at my screen...
whenever it was something work
related i had to switch: flip.... left to right...
right to right... to find the entirety of the *******
keyboard...

what was "bothering" my smartphone...
it's like with the invention of the internet...
you sometimes get this one troll
that thinks it's... permitted: to talk to a stranger
informally...
without consequences...
that's what the internet was invented for?
this... anonymity cult?!
that's why the telephone was invented:
to make prank calls!

            three or so months with my smart-phone
screen being completely black-out...
i managed... only recently i noticed that flicker
of hope...
i have to solve this problem myself...
so this app: Samsung Pay was doing
all matters of haywire...
i wasn't using it...
but it was flickering...
like... bad recipes for advertisement at
Piccadilly Circus...
              strobe lightning:
zombie epileptics dropping dead...

    if i still hold sway on my bladder
or my pen... i'm good to go!

                            life is as much little as is required
for "things" not becoming enlarged...
life small is kept manageable...
i know my father is envious when it comes
to my "work": he hates the idea that i get
paid for seeing... Tyson Fury glance...
he didn't properly upper-cut Whyte...
he glanced him...
   and i get paid... for seeing the "history"...
he might be less jealous if i were a plumber...

today has become a terrible day to write:
anything...
   i want my liver splintering into
pain and... mollusks oozing pornographic juices...
i'm waiting for Saturday...
it's not that i even hate the people i work
with... they just like me...
which i find suspect...
             i rather be liked and find it suspicious
than... not being liked and not finding it
suspicious...
i don't even think it's related to being liked:
i think it's more related to:
                         whatever...
lose me in London... or Athens...
    i'd be perfectly alright...
i'd wreck Warsaw... i hate Warsaw...
i turn into a feral creature in that town...
          why? i'm always travelling through it...
i'm never going to... stop and admire something...

there's nothing in that city i want to admire...
i just want to get out!
Third Eye Candy Oct 2020
the page was blank
and then This.

i parked words
where they should go
and now
This.

i come apart to
join a choir.
and all
things
sing.

i fetch a golden fleece
from timid scars
and coerce my loneliness
into a corner
of blatant
touch

as my open mind
dissolves
into sea a of
unrelenting
waves

combing every beach of the world
with diphthongs
and amethyst

and too many joys
to deny.

or resist.

— The End —