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Mateuš Conrad Nov 2016
they call it the intellectualism of a tumbleweed's
worth worth of attention...
      they call it jargon,
or gnarling, or showing your teeth weather smiling
or teeth kept to a gnashing of bone until reaching
marrow - as they say: if a tartar steak (which
is raw, there's no medium or
well-done to speak) has not marrow
juice for glue... forget it...
i'm eating the horse.
they call it difficult and they call it
jargon because they forgot the Kantian
key... oh sure, the keyhole
is Hegelian pop culture, Hegel is pop,
Kant is antiquity... but in terms of what's deemed
"difficult"? at the end of the day Kant said
0 = negation...
            what symbol could engulf affirmation?
and what symbol would affirm doubt?
  would = proposition and could = preposition?
i'm sorrowful to say: prepositions are still
taken to be grammatical units,
while propositions evolved from aye & nay
into maxims... a sorry state of affairs.
      so Hegel is pope... of ****... pop...
and Kant is an antiquity...
fair enough, we have Nietzsche to thank
for calling him an idiot... i too had great ambitions...
such writings are akin to arithmetic,
what i'm interested in is not a Dostoyevsky
narrative being prescribed for huddling from
the cold in Siberia...
     a        the              's, or how to bypass
the elephant man in staging a language
to be said, avoiding the language thought of,
the plural and the possessive usage with
the distraction of the hanging comma:
its (anger at the l.g.b.t. community
    for any pronoun usage deviatory to the cause)
      and it's (such that English is, Cockney rhyme
or modern urban slang... Becca instead of Rebecca...
Liz instead of Elizabeth...
   no wonder people started calling their children
Peaches)... which is shortened for the drool of it is;
i know they discriminate against these caravan
hobbit inhabitants of Shropshire, but the earls
really do write like these Pikies speak...
trolley trolley bumblebee black bitchiness boo...
    the r that's a trill becomes almost curly...
           well this is an x-ray of all things fleshy,
it doesn't / or should go to the bone...
            you talk to your mother with that tongue
and lick the privates of your ******-coo
             maiden too?
probably not... some called them gypsies,
some called them the ironed shirts...
which was ironic because of the many problems
that Middletons spotted in terms of creases...
         libido though? i'd spotlight a **** for
a gypsy girl... as i said: i'd **** anything that
moves and only hanky-panky my palette
on oysters if i had to... it's called the rebellion
against feminism: or ****** oppression to
endorse kiddy fiddlers in dog-collars getting away
with it and us, "men" having to make
the hand entwine the **** into a boa constrict ion
to imitate: a experience of a ****** i never wish
i had... that's transgender: i've got two
organs... one's a bit android, but **** needing
to necessitate a **** to get the kangaroo pouch
of feeling it, mmm.
              well, if it's too hard, then i'm obviously
employing a darwinism of some sort:
intellectual selection; i put the effort into
writing it, you put an effort into reading it,
the plebs get their stake... and everyone's happy.
     but no one gets away with youtube
regurgitated murk of someone promoting a book
   and then having to reduce it to quote,
while the book if waved about like a brick
about to be lodged into the Library of Babylon...
well... we know what happened with
the library of Alexandria... there's not a single
dittohead to encourage revising what was there once.
as we "speak", this is Latin written in Arabic,
i.e.: right to left, rather than left to right...
  but hey, no runes, so the crucifixion of Juan
at Golgotha wasn't all bad after all...
            look at how Arabic squiggly and Hebrew
proto survived, we could have gone down the route
of hieroglyphics (ideograms, but still the Mandarin
survived), but unlike cuneiform... there were simply
too many holes to be filled with Latin...
but i still don't get why they wrote a shortcut for
U using V, given O... i guess the shortcut for
O had to be •, Omnium Vampirism stake to the heart
of the stone for an indentation...
    i'd cite you the mea culpa if i could only use
another phonetic encoding, but i can't, i'm still
using Latin encoding... it's beyond dodo, it's the one
sound-encoding that could create the technosphere
of digitalising papyrus.
so Hegel is pope because non-economic Marxism
is pop... but i leverage with W. Burrough's
cut-up and Tzara and cabaret voltaire...
   and how revitalising Kant is crucial in saying:
but he already mentioned a thesis and an antithesis
disciplinary coercion in a moving-forward of
mutually-progressive antagony... why is
Hegel the one to take all the credit?
               why not say akin to: Leibniz & Newton
said some about calculus... ah ****, i forgot,
all the Ferraris and bling and *******...
                           let's just settle for the fact that
Hegel brought about the mingling of thesis
and antithesis to create a synthesis that
culminated in Marx, and Kant brought about
the mingling of thesis and antithesis to create
an analysis...
                           i bypass Nietzsche on this point
for insulting Kant, and having been overtly
influenced by the French...
la Rochefoucauld, is, after all, the antidote to
Machiavelli, and that's my pardon;
but that's beside the point, some people want it
easy, but language does take toward
being nurtured sometimes, like a flower as a seed
as later blossom, as later a fruitful in abounding
colour...
                 language doesn't have to take the route
toward a bestseller preacher-style dross of
congregational assimilation and a "shared experience",
which is why i abhorrent that words had to be
invited into an l.s.d. experience,
                        absolutely no c.i.a. transparency...  
it was all up-in-the-air and never personal...
if i write about something personal i'm writing it
because people in the 1960s went beyond the person
experience of hallucinogenic drugs, and the reason
why i wouldn't take them: is because they wrote
about them and ***** the whole case of wanting
to experience it... as the shaman don juan said:
it's your own; once it has been ascribed words?
    it's commonly shared down to the pinpoint
of a plumber and a toilet... once it has been contaminated
with words / accounts of such an experience?
it has become generic, it has become a poem that
can no longer retale it's status as l.s.d., thanks,
***** beatnik, *******.
    well... if a piece of writing is hard... treat it like
if it were some venture into arithmetic,
    and given the parallelism of space-time 1
                with time one, and the Kantian
0 = negation... you'll deny it, because it's too complicated
on the basis of, so what's the equals?
             like that cartesian result: i think therefore i am...
   therefore i'm still thinking... well the + is that
you're still intact and not shrapnel of wonder ascribing
fascination for prefixes suffixes conjunctional *****
        and diacritical marks as once thought of as
rebellious angels in Milton's theology, redeemed,
ruling over ulterior suggestions of dissecting words
for the correct rhythm.
   if a piece of writing is difficult: it's a version of arithmetic,
the only question is whether you can complete the sum
  of the arithmetic and, obviously enough, return to
yourself as your "self", in that you are intact,
having experienced a "self" or the cognitively active
other in the reflexive sense of yourself, which in turn
props of your self, in what's to be of you in the reflective
sense; that's the equivalent of arithmetic,
hence we have encyclopedias and dictionaries as
being equivalent of calculators... i still don't understand
why complex writing isn't deemed equivalent of arithmetic,
i'll probably die not understanding this...
yes, yourself is reflexive   and your self is reflective...
English really is a battlefield of pronoun use...
let alone revitalising yourself with an archaic word...
   thus said: Kant will never reach the populist status
of Hegel.
Toni Cezeal Jul 2013
Flat lined on the hospital table
Spiritual ER hardly stable
So blind, unconscious,
like some show on cable
I saw myself laying there
Dying and disabled

I heard the machines
The beeping was declining
Nurses rushing
"We’re losing her doctor
She’s not even fighting"

See, in reality I was smiling
As the world went by me
While inside denying
Too much garbage I’d been hiding

Hurts which I thought were buried
Oh the disappointments they varied
And so too much baggage I carried
while myself & lies were about to be married

unforgiveness was the altar
And bitterness the ring
Unbelief like a witness
Disobedience like a wedding theme

Because somehow my heart of flesh
Had turned to stone
Like I had turned my back on the truth I’d known
Too many wounds
My scars that showed
I had enough
Like the prodigal son, decided to hit the road

I couldn’t save myself even if I tried.
My vitals were dropping
as I held onto my pride
Vitals like hope,
And the desire to keep living
My knowledge of the cross
Felt like a guilt burden

Because I hated my own helplessness
What a failure I had felt
I surely failed God
Just like I had failed myself
I self loathed and pitied
Feeling far from help
In darkness, gave up on myself
And death was the result.

But In the spiritual emergency room,
Like they're about to call time of death
The Doctor rushes in and says
“I’m not done with her yet”

Defibulator named love
Shock waves of truth
Loosening the grips of death
Destroyed deceptions noose
A second shock of love then came
Courage filled my veins again
Like oxygen revitalising my brain
Like an anesthetic relieving the pain
One final shock
A breath of hope
Gasping deeply
my heart no longer choked.

So He excavated my heart
Right after an injection of faith
A painful process
But necessary to loose the chains
For darkness to be gone
And Light to be my robe
I was slowly recovering
As my life was being made whole.

So alive in His grace
A mercy filled report chart
I was given a new heart
Myself and my Saviour were no longer apart
Yet still came an even harder part
Rehabilation had to start.

King of all Surgeons
My counselor, so kind He said:
“You're healed, and delivered
But transformation is in
The renewing of your mind”

He said: I paid the cost for your life to be saved
Your life insurance through my own expense has been paid
No condemnation because you've newly been made
Because I heard every cry of help that you prayed

Let me explain:

I was rescued from deception
Set free through redemption
So now everyday He captures my attention
Asking me one simple faith question:

WILL YOU TRUST ME?

And every day I vow: Jesus, I do.
Book Thief Aug 2020
The dissipated heat of evening air
seeks reprieve
in snaking tendrils of gated iron.
A silent, prolific expanse
beyond which I can see:
the memories unfurling,
my future beckoning.

Stolen fleeting glances back
as I open the gate latch;
it is in this moment now
that everything becomes undone.
A reclusive part of myself has long
been consumed and condemned—
fighting tooth and nail
in a life intertwined with hell,
leaving me to grapple with fears all alone.

One shaky step forward, then two.
I break into a delirious run.
The feel of solid concrete,
the revitalising wind without a care—
a path from a place I no longer call home.
I yearn for freedom, I hunger to feel
something other than
abusive regrets, they beget
perennial laughter,
giving way to countless tears,
the hurt and the lies.

So it’s beyond that front gate where I promise to find
a rekindled self, a new state of mind,
as shadows cast behind me in the slanting sun,
my face upturned to receive the light.
All the suffering and tumultuous pain
now shed like old skin,
and a new set of wings unfold
to soar the skies again.
My most beautiful self reflected
by the deepest shards of my being:
in it lies
a bruised but wondrous heart—
wide open, ready for some healing.
It's been a long, long time since posting here. I wrote this a while back. It's still bittersweet.
Ellen F D May 2019
It rumbles softly
Cascading off leaves with grace
Falling with intentional chaos
Cleansing the Earth
With revitalising purity
niamh  Jun 2015
Stop and breathe
niamh Jun 2015
I stopped and stood still,
let the sights and sounds
of nature
wash over me
like a gentle breeze,
revitalising.
The circus continued around me,
a hive of frenzied activity.
People listening to each other
without hearing
Looking at each other
without seeing.
Rushing towards something
but what?
For there is only one
inevitable finishing line
for all of us
so why hurry?
Stop for a minute
and breathe
TheSanguinary  Jan 2021
In love
TheSanguinary Jan 2021
I need sme water
My body needs more
This thirst,
I hve failed to quench
The more i drink
The thirstier i become
The thirdt only she can quench

I hve been inslaved to my desire
My desire to hve her
My desire to hold her
To devour her
The harder i try to escape
The deeper it feels
As a slave to my desire
An addict to her love

I feel like i hve a pit inside me
One that can keep eating for eternity
Deep and dark
U mightcall it bottomless
Am I tired....?
Yes
Can i stop....?
No
I cant stop eating
My hunger for her keeps growing
with every bite i take
The pit grows deeper
Leaving me starving for more
A hunger even she cant satisfy
Call me gluttony

I thirst for her lips
My body craves to taste em
A revitalising kiss that brings back life to my shrivelled and dry body
I am an addict to her love
A day without her feels like eternity
When im in her,
Arms feels like home
When i see her
My heart jumps from joy
Like playing a song for her
I starve for her body
The slightest and most delicate of touches feels like hve touched heaven
The screams and moans....,
Melodies i can't live without
When she kiss me
When she holds me
And when she takes me in
I pray it is a fantasy
Because if not......
I MAY BE IN LOVE.
meatcanyon....
me new youtube discovery...
i subscribed to some new
channels
and my algorithm started
to behave like AI...

princesses Veroniya
and Reyla
are sharing my room...
as i write:
maybe REyla is
more a Bilie Eilish fan girl
Lesbian Pop
than Taylor Swift:

some new grunge....

exposure to AI better:
betters allow you to navigate
the algorithm landscape

search engine:
bibliogtraphy
ecycoploedia....
dictionary
and thesaurus... rex

two eyes but only one tongue of Allah:
one eye yet two tongues of Polyphemus.

Arable Arabic or the Glut Monkey
of Iran...
the Other Muslims
not the Saudis
and their gangs of Pakistani Lonely
Men....
Iran: compared to the Sunni
Islam Ummah:
Iran i admire: i would always
compenstate converting to Islam
via ****'ah... Islam...
new adventure...
a Sunni ****'ah... (SUFI...
i love women too much:
soi i best wrestle with pope and poetry.... just show
me glee... Lucifer-baby...

                         wonderful war pre war
or the greatest education project
of the War of the Armaggedon...

Iran the mystical land after Arabia
and just before India...
a magit carpet ride: o sweet sweet...
getting an Ottoman shave
and wet towel... treatment:
night shifts...

120£ by the end of one...
but i get to explore new movies
like... PSY with Linda and Kondrat...
no... that's a whitetest of lies...

but why not the equivalent Exodus
and Genesis of the Palestinians
and Philistines...
walk about: ask for Arab status
like Hebrew status of European
by the end of your travels!
show me that Palestinians are not
the Ancients: Philistines!
show me! walk! walk! Iran
is imploring you to give us this truth:
this future! and yes!
if the Lebanese are willing to go too!
take them! walk into Iran via England
and across Siberia:
avoiding Poland...
anywhere! go! give us a 2000 year old
history of the Revival of Islam!

show me Palestine: you Philistine!
who me culture!
i can't simply rely on the quick
fix of Le Trio Joubran and that
****** trip in Amsterdam
with the Ehyptian...
G: is an implosion of meaning:
like necropolis... imitation
of moputin the mountain ranges
i saw the sands break equal with time
and what was mountain ranges
those of the Sahara used
to be like the Himalayas
let me give you:
a perspective on time:
non-being and time: i'm sorry:
if you want to look that far
back with only natural history
and nothing socio-economic...
you have to choose...
the lineage of people
or the linear diversion Darwinistic-historiollygy...
but the Philistines will have to recognise
the history of their Genesis and Exxodus...
a two-state solution is a 2000y year old project...
hello! hello!
eh?! hello?!
                       so *******...
from Judah to Israel so let's see what
Palestine looks like
from your origins as the Philistines:
angry Polacks
not willing to move
big assses just sat the **** down...
i don't see Palestine...
i just see the Philistines
retards not seeing the Magic of Islam...
let's just see more clearly...
the LEftists didn't realise?
they want the Philistines to March across
the world: became the equivalent
of the Jewish diaspora!
genius! ******* people!

hey! while you're at it!
bring me back some Falafel!
some scripture second Koran....
2000 years! bye bye!
go see the Saudis first...
thirsty kink: let's see Hell first!

oh and some Lebanese...
i heard of the twin towers....
hmm... so there must be:
this must be a tale of the twin tribes.
the PHilistines and
the Lebz... we share a history
the northern crusades and your
almost Jordanian old Rome
Pagan:
who the baby toy in charge?
who who? omega... abso...
alphas gravitate to beta and versus...
sigmas: self proclaimed must gravitate
toward omegas...

chop chop! i believe in you!
give us 2000 years of revising and revitalising:
modernizing Islam!
jog on! come back in 2000 years...
show me Palestine!
by then i promise you
Israel will become Zion!

— The End —