Members
24/M/South Africa
Every atom corresponds to bring our ideal into being.
Las Vegas
Veteran of the U.S.M.C born and raised in Vegas. After the Marines I chose to follow my dream of using my poetry, and others forms …
55/M/Meridian, Idaho
A husband for over 34 years DAD to nine, so I've shed a few tears PASSIONATE about Jesus with nothing to lose AND a part-time …
Poems
Tina Fish
Sep 2012
I. ****** Transient
Overnight takes on new meaning
when the sun never sets and will never rise.
This time i didn’t bring words, i brought lines.
And Esmeralda danced circles around my eyes.
You gypsy ***** You.
Leading me confused,
with knees low and back hunched,
into a labyrinth of solitude.
Embarrassed of what exactly?
i’ve barred scars more deep than scars
like profound pools of black sticky tar
that almost suffocates with its gluttony
and still You wouldn’t look away.
And now i pay a price as images intertwine
creating zebra patterned designs
on the alcoves of my mind.
Black, White
They contrast in spite of the connection.
and I wear this contrast like an emblem,
hanging from my throat,
heavy on my heart.
yet with the delicate touch of some
slippery silvery chain…
It almost rids me of the pain.
Back turned or give me the front,
i still want either way.
A petrifying carnival of desire,
making my eyes tire of this display
and my lips itching to play,
a lilac purple tongue,
and bronze arms on the way.
You feign revolution by shutting the door in my face.
A shuddering sigh and flutter of a heart,
as caged ribs start to part,
liberated room for more,
i’ve become an emotional *****,
lips wet with anticipation,
pulsating with a passion,
that You defined as infatuation.
And that i just couldn’t define.
-or rather-
defined as a transition in time.
****** Transients* would abstractive-ly be the best,
but the abstract, once put to the test,
floats past concrete lines,
and creates a world of its own where, even as a stranger,
i feel right at home.
Lioness of the abstract dome.
Razor sharp You
sliced a tingling into the souls of my feet,
and week after week i did nothing but smile at my own loss
of balance.
The feminine reemerging as the phallus,
and the phallus in comfort with its feminine home.
i patiently wait for my Special Kinder Surprise,
and meanwhile,
satisfy myself with imagination,
to which an interpretation,
would require the use of a million scholarly texts,
which still wouldn’t attest to this degree
Of Vulgarity,
or this degree
Of Sexuality,
or this degree
Of Spirituality.
Like the slaughter of fowl for mythological pride;
You hide behind an altar,
and with all the holiness i posses,
I intend to pull through and impress with Determination.
--and the petrifying realization—
that You are Artemis and i soon to be set upon by the hound
- choking ego to the ground.
But ****, it was worth it.
worth the,
vulnerability
worth the,
audacity
worth the,
ecstasy,
-It naturally dissolved within me.
Only to be pushed down by an incessant flipping of the door,
an incessant call to reality.
is the overnight truly Over?
—or pray mercy and tell me its begun.
The rising Sun seems determined to puncture the fun,
And the valiant battle with Apollo seems already to have been won.
II. ****** Ensnared
I’m getting tired of this ****.
A tantrum fit as if we were kids of three.
Stomping on adult realized priorities.
We wear our hair like a mask,
we analyze our clothes,
personify the persona we wish to adapt,
and commend that same personal persona
complimenting its research studied aura.
--I’d rather stay in this dream forever.
(you judged me by my hair
yet remained unaware
to what it masked.)
Please don’t preach to me about consideration.
The obliteration of that term in action shocks me.
Truth be told?—I’m quite Angry, and I feel used,
Yes, believe it or not, Abused.
Infiltrated and Dominated.
And I am a Leo at heart.
So to part with my throne will only be met with roars of defense;
to be direct, Aggressiveness.
My interlude is met with seclusion—
isolation to the utmost degree—
and I see that the world agrees, as I’m met
with a phone with no tone
and a power-cut of electricity,
while the world contracts visibly
and the static in the air
ensnares my fiery wrath,
and storms overhead
are weighed down with
anxiety and dread
that express themselves
in raindrops, that I lovingly
call tears.
I fear this is me at my limit---
And I exhibit nothing but ferocious gloom.
This room which contains me is not enough,
And I will huff
And I will puff
Until the walls come down.
And the only sound to be heard,
is the numbing effect of silence.
My Rifle stands ready to be shot and plunge through that stubborn heart
of yours until it is rejected or until the reflected opinion dominates. Is it
too much to ask for a change of heart?
Empathy? Understanding?
Basic societ-ical handling?
Apparently yes.
So I detest
having to put in.
The waterworks that I display
convey nothing but submission
to your inconsideration.
And the devil in me crosses her fingers
for experience by example,
as elephants trample over logic
and the symbolic is simply symbolic.
That’s too much reason for my taste.
And I see that it was a waste
Trying to impress with determination.
****** Ensnared has denied a nation of people their feelings,
listening, with unappealing resolution
satisfying herself with this conclusion:
“Let them eat Cake.”
--It’s true.
You can’t have your cake and eat it too.
III. ****** Verbalize
On a park bench it took me quite by surprise,
my eyes met with scripture
recognizable though not to my hand,
the band on my finger tightened and
yet the anger seized.
-- How could I not have surmised ****** Verbalize to enlighten me?--
“Your Majesty;
I owe you My Apology-
And I couldn’t be sorrier for my selfish self
has decided to rest after this long period.
For She was too busy
trying to make you feel safe and home
--She was too busy trying to suppress her ****** up
whipped cream so that you can have you cake and eat it too—
But She failed.
You believe ****** is selfish,
then I’m afraid you never knew ******.
--****** loved you with wide arms open and she
Was pleased to meet you.
She hopes it was a useful transition for You.
.THE END.
The ******”
Overnight takes on new meaning
when the sun never sets and will never rise.
This time i didn’t bring words, i brought lines.
And Esmeralda danced circles around my eyes.
You gypsy ***** You.
Leading me confused,
with knees low and back hunched,
into a labyrinth of solitude.
Embarrassed of what exactly?
i’ve barred scars more deep than scars
like profound pools of black sticky tar
that almost suffocates with its gluttony
and still You wouldn’t look away.
And now i pay a price as images intertwine
creating zebra patterned designs
on the alcoves of my mind.
Black, White
They contrast in spite of the connection.
and I wear this contrast like an emblem,
hanging from my throat,
heavy on my heart.
yet with the delicate touch of some
slippery silvery chain…
It almost rids me of the pain.
Back turned or give me the front,
i still want either way.
A petrifying carnival of desire,
making my eyes tire of this display
and my lips itching to play,
a lilac purple tongue,
and bronze arms on the way.
You feign revolution by shutting the door in my face.
A shuddering sigh and flutter of a heart,
as caged ribs start to part,
liberated room for more,
i’ve become an emotional *****,
lips wet with anticipation,
pulsating with a passion,
that You defined as infatuation.
And that i just couldn’t define.
-or rather-
defined as a transition in time.
****** Transients* would abstractive-ly be the best,
but the abstract, once put to the test,
floats past concrete lines,
and creates a world of its own where, even as a stranger,
i feel right at home.
Lioness of the abstract dome.
Razor sharp You
sliced a tingling into the souls of my feet,
and week after week i did nothing but smile at my own loss
of balance.
The feminine reemerging as the phallus,
and the phallus in comfort with its feminine home.
i patiently wait for my Special Kinder Surprise,
and meanwhile,
satisfy myself with imagination,
to which an interpretation,
would require the use of a million scholarly texts,
which still wouldn’t attest to this degree
Of Vulgarity,
or this degree
Of Sexuality,
or this degree
Of Spirituality.
Like the slaughter of fowl for mythological pride;
You hide behind an altar,
and with all the holiness i posses,
I intend to pull through and impress with Determination.
--and the petrifying realization—
that You are Artemis and i soon to be set upon by the hound
- choking ego to the ground.
But ****, it was worth it.
worth the,
vulnerability
worth the,
audacity
worth the,
ecstasy,
-It naturally dissolved within me.
Only to be pushed down by an incessant flipping of the door,
an incessant call to reality.
is the overnight truly Over?
—or pray mercy and tell me its begun.
The rising Sun seems determined to puncture the fun,
And the valiant battle with Apollo seems already to have been won.
II. ****** Ensnared
I’m getting tired of this ****.
A tantrum fit as if we were kids of three.
Stomping on adult realized priorities.
We wear our hair like a mask,
we analyze our clothes,
personify the persona we wish to adapt,
and commend that same personal persona
complimenting its research studied aura.
--I’d rather stay in this dream forever.
(you judged me by my hair
yet remained unaware
to what it masked.)
Please don’t preach to me about consideration.
The obliteration of that term in action shocks me.
Truth be told?—I’m quite Angry, and I feel used,
Yes, believe it or not, Abused.
Infiltrated and Dominated.
And I am a Leo at heart.
So to part with my throne will only be met with roars of defense;
to be direct, Aggressiveness.
My interlude is met with seclusion—
isolation to the utmost degree—
and I see that the world agrees, as I’m met
with a phone with no tone
and a power-cut of electricity,
while the world contracts visibly
and the static in the air
ensnares my fiery wrath,
and storms overhead
are weighed down with
anxiety and dread
that express themselves
in raindrops, that I lovingly
call tears.
I fear this is me at my limit---
And I exhibit nothing but ferocious gloom.
This room which contains me is not enough,
And I will huff
And I will puff
Until the walls come down.
And the only sound to be heard,
is the numbing effect of silence.
My Rifle stands ready to be shot and plunge through that stubborn heart
of yours until it is rejected or until the reflected opinion dominates. Is it
too much to ask for a change of heart?
Empathy? Understanding?
Basic societ-ical handling?
Apparently yes.
So I detest
having to put in.
The waterworks that I display
convey nothing but submission
to your inconsideration.
And the devil in me crosses her fingers
for experience by example,
as elephants trample over logic
and the symbolic is simply symbolic.
That’s too much reason for my taste.
And I see that it was a waste
Trying to impress with determination.
****** Ensnared has denied a nation of people their feelings,
listening, with unappealing resolution
satisfying herself with this conclusion:
“Let them eat Cake.”
--It’s true.
You can’t have your cake and eat it too.
III. ****** Verbalize
On a park bench it took me quite by surprise,
my eyes met with scripture
recognizable though not to my hand,
the band on my finger tightened and
yet the anger seized.
-- How could I not have surmised ****** Verbalize to enlighten me?--
“Your Majesty;
I owe you My Apology-
And I couldn’t be sorrier for my selfish self
has decided to rest after this long period.
For She was too busy
trying to make you feel safe and home
--She was too busy trying to suppress her ****** up
whipped cream so that you can have you cake and eat it too—
But She failed.
You believe ****** is selfish,
then I’m afraid you never knew ******.
--****** loved you with wide arms open and she
Was pleased to meet you.
She hopes it was a useful transition for You.
.THE END.
The ******”
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2020
on the hellbender periphery
Mateuš Conrad
Jan 2020
standing on the hellbender periphery...
something happens in
the anglo-lingual world...
something correlating injustice...
"whiteness" - the babylon circus...
you name it... and somehow...
this doesn't explode to other areas
of the world, but merely implodes...
perhaps it's the same in france and germany...
how scandinavia (notably sweden)
succumbed to this: i will not or rather:
i don't want to know...
i actually miss not having made
myself available to my grandparents
for this past month...
i'm pretty sure i would have read
and read and stayed sober...
4 years outside of the confines of both
england and december teasing january...
a hip-replacement surgery of
a very demanding mother...
turns out... her worries were unjustified...
if the surgeon was happy...
the nurses were happy...
it required almost a month of passing...
her vampirism draining me...
until some physiotherapist explained
it to her...
but that's not enough...
to vacuum each day to better keep her
impulsive-compulsive ticks in check...
as much as i like the joke of owning
two bonsai tigers...
and i haven't minded the cooking,
the ironing, the whole Cindarella shabang...
but when there's all that...
and there's the father loitering
around waiting for a new contract...
all the great things i ended up doing
with a degree in chemistry...
this is my last outlet...
get busy scribbling,
drinking and... over-rating my ambitions...
but all these anglo-lingual problems
just invite themselves in...
i listen to them and...
on the doorsteps of Russia...
can you imagine what sort tangos this
multi-cultural experiment would dance
in Russia?
that's practically an Asian entity...
or in the Balkans with its still preserved
Turkic presence of Islam...
anywhere where...
- i really can't see the problems...
other than this: this is a very terrible piece
of writing... look at it...
flabby, disjointed...
different problems in Russia...
or... ha... written in the vicinity of London...
with a mind-set still bound up
to having Belarus and Ukraine as neighbours...
and Russia too...
on the hellbender periphery of "whiteness"...
this whole: we were colonial powers once
argument... is sort of dead on my ears...
even i can attest: the darker skinned Kenyans
and the lighter skinned Nigerians...
i'm actually tired of the whites
who are pushing their transcendental *******...
never more free if they didn't push their
ideas and instead learned a new language...
apparently england fares the worst
when it comes to bilingualism...
circa 30% of its 15 - 35 year olds speak
a second language...
compared with Denmark: circa 90+%...
germany circa 80%... Poland thereabouts...
for some reason i was never taught
to "love" my fellow-countrymen... being an émigré...
how much of it was an automated: self-exile
and how much of it: we did this for you
to have a better life...
better life - as i now ask...
it's a life... i don't have comparative literature
to call it any better or any worse...
it is what it is...
i'm tired and i'm drinking:
which usually implies that i will be more honest
than usual...
the better parts of me i've left with other people,
what i have accumulated is,
the worst part of them... mostly their: sanctimonious
appeal... or the bigmouth strikes: yet again...
even Russia is a multicultral societ...
but there's no prancing beyond the better part
of the trough of Moscow's snippet piglets...
moss-co... opt in or opt-out...
the lost ability to consecrate one's life
in postcard snippers of photographs:
that once upon a time other people would take...
but now you take yourself...
imagine a man that masturbates once...
every "blue moon"... on / off...
what door is opened most frequently
in the house? the fridge is opened more times
than even the front door...
and then there's the selfie barrage...
because... looking into a mirror is no longer
enough...
if photography can be an art-work...
what the hell is the photograph
when one can focus in on something in a mirror?
are people who take these photographs
are afraid of looking in the mirror?
to have to stand completely stark naked...
mollusk-esque...
and the world's not quiet an oyster...
and all that: one punch sucker and it's
not so much a one punch k.o.,
and a one punch k.o. and a postmortem...
i've seen one of these examples:
"i.r.l.": i even hovered over the body
with a bunch of bystanders and said
out-loud...
'well... this sweet ******* is
not seeing next spring' - i.e. getting up
and having life-support machines
attached to him...
evolutionary: to begin with...
it's norman normie normansky...
oh yeah, i've seen a one punch post-mortem,
i've been to a brothel,
and i've been to a strip-club...
but still in Russia...
and esp. in Poland...
on the periphery of "whiteness"...
and there was no "cipher" to follow-suit....
what's expected is...
not expected...
because the button of cleavage...
which... let's face it...
one can't distinguish it from the peach
of an ***...
i wonder: would i, ever be bound...
to the grand canyon; "exemplification"?
please, stress any "further"...
two croissants doing the rub-rub
in an imitation game for two mollusks *******...
as ever: looking for
a tomahawk and a... scalp...
but in Russia: you would never see
this pseudo!
pseudo is a cuss-word reserved for petting
hunting dogs...
when you want them to aport! in reverse....
not in Russia, not in Poland...
good cuck-luck taming Ukraine...
perhaps all these ******* ever knew...
was how to seem: mouthy...
appropriate... and what better place to start...
than some obscrucity equivalent
to Rotherham!
oh i see it... when the THETA becomes the V...
rover nor rho-f-f rho-f-f...
******* r and am!
or simply quartz... and spam canned ham!
i was never expected to be the thief among
prostitutes...
kissing and the dosage of the reprimand
buther... cut always below the bulk
of a knee... survived the thinning
of the shins...
in psychiatric terms my "codition" is alluded
to as: the crude soup...
never was a more sane man demanded
to feel inadequacy...
but i salvaged for better complaints...
this is not even, remotely assertive of...
when i want and i will not
disparage from sound savegery
and... "that thing in the back of my mind"...
the sane people call it:
the hallucination of morality...
they're all hush hush about it...
they don't want to be prescribed:
shock-treatment of... being dropped into
an ice bath... to hell with their bowties!
jesus mary and joseph...
i could never become a jack the ol' ripper
though... i became a tapeworm of kissing
when it came to the canvas of
prostitutes...
parasitical lips... bite-down tooth envy
of my great-grandfather...
what i could never kiss...
i always wanted to bite to tease with...
now my libido is satisfied...
i can claim not being the hyperbolic outlier....
i don't need a wife,
a mother in law... a child...
a shadow life of a Chikatilo...
to lend myself to Cain...
i can absolve myself with the rites of Abel...
how... oh how this most pristine how...
i only supposed i'd be dead...
and not playing both "victim"...
prosecutor... and inspector columbus to boot!
conventional language scares me...
there's so much hiding behind
immovable objects...
that in turn the moon or the table become
quasi-deities in a world
littered with demigod *****!
of the polytheistic gods...
which one... didn't chance a common semblance
to a *******?
perhaps i've earned this rigid tongue...
rattle and sawdust itching from it...
first bound...
last resort: this is not about to become
a conventionality of language...
this is not going to become...
an aud lang syne...
this is not going to become: tea-party
forget me: forget me or taste the forget-me-not!
revised lent topic: on the hellbender periphery...
how these post-colonial former subjects...
well unless you're in Poland,
Belarus, Ukraine, Russia...
mein gott! i really should start knocking
on Russian's door, more often...
this sort of ******* that's allowed
in England would be... most likely...
quickly suppressed...
for the good of the people:
it's always: for the good of the people...
oops... " "...
yeah yeah... "for the good of the people"...
the colonial ambitions...
and the guilt of being white in eastern europe...
which is why i can never master
the english conundrum...
while kenyans are darker than the nigerians...
but in their dark-choc...
seem to be basked in coconut oil
that oozes from the Indian ocean...
Kenyans who import timber from Ghana?
and the Nigerians...
oh sure sure sweetheart!
we can revive the Balkan enterprise...
you just say when!
we'll have the christian serbs run amok...
over the islam minorities...
sure sure...
it's almost akin to: teasing Russia
to climb out of its Caucasian bed-root...
when it ****** with the Turkic peoples...
and of course... coming across the
Afro-Europeans of the colonial present, past,
and future... there was only one history
of / for the Europeans...
origins in Africa...
sorry... what about the Indo- prefix?
here we have the sanskrit...
here we have the hierogylphs...
but... what of the writing of ancient
Kenyans?
i'm no better... came st. cyrill and his greek
contra the glagolitic...
which is... probably southern slavic...
and... there were the runes
and the ancient romans fighting
the tribes of Danube... but never as far north
as the Baltic did they come...
but in mind: i'm always going to be bound
to the periphery knocking on the doors
of Kiev and Novgorod...
with the Mongol also citing:
he too knocked...
something happened... had his hand cut off
at the wrist with the remnant budding
leftover of the Crimean Tartars...
so... this passover former colonial...
"grief" is now running former colonial society's
mischief?
am i white, or am i asian?
i will never know...
Islam and what? the crusades of the baltic states
by the teutonic knights?
and Europe and Europe and Europe
without the english, the myth of troy revived
in Italy... and the proud yet backward
greeks...
i too thought: if it's not feral enough...
it's feral enougn where english is not spoken!
after all... england is a far far away place...
even if i'm currently "living" in it...
it wasn't invaded and all it had to propose was...
its own ******* to the external world...
pristine england...
pristine p.s. england...
this anglo-phile... ahem... "problem"?
in ukraine or in russia?
it's a problem and a problem of this sort
is treated with a sort of amnesia...
equivalent to:
today's Monday, yes?
oh... today's not a Monday?
will i still you if you mind calling it a Tuesday?!
the body intact bound to a vicinity of London...
the mind... detached... elsewhere...
perhaps it was the over-rationalisation
of the darwinistic approach...
again: even copernicus didn't or wouldn't
have entertained such an over-reach
of his heliocentrism become dogmatic...
copernicus who?
exactly! only someone like wittgenstein
would celebrate copernicus...
the west only celebrates galileo:
because of the trial...
i can attest though... mendeleev is secure!
is it perhaps odd...
that some ****- would not find
differences between a croat
and a moldavian?
a kashubian and a silesian?
a scot an a welshman?
imagine my ah! gasp!
the tribes within a tribe...
the "home" team consisting of liverpudlians!
and the "away" team consisting of scousers!
liverpool f.c. supporters of the former...
everton supporters for the latter...
but we're all white!
i'm "white white" because i've acquired
this tongue and i can...
somehow... forget mein: wurzeln...
mind you... elsewhere?
that word... root? in deutschezunge?
wurzeln: decipher: nurse! scalpel!
wur-zeln...
no no... this will not do...
wü-ř-eln
alternatively...
wü-ž-eln...
and that's not "woo"... it's a V-not-U...
voor-zeln!
alternatively there's the ż (rz)...
which is equivalent to either ř or ž...
ř = r(z) and ž = (r)z...
"when" and "where" you know that's
an orthographic distinction to begin with...
i.e. ř = r(z) and ž = (r)z
when rz = ż...
i really have "real" problems to mind
of my own, on the periphery of:
the "western lands"... st. cyril is biting at my toes...
as ancient roman bites back...
the alphabet intact...
you either learn some greek...
or you don't gloat about being lazy about
not having acquired some passable "knowledge"
of cyrilic...
so? here's to taking another selfie from the perspective
of fearing to look into a mirror...
and here's to some new obscure modern hieroglyphic
take on the "thumbs-up"... and: shmiley :)!
better i stick to the diacritical markers...
niche point of interest...
niche to the point of claustrophobia...
but of all these anglo- problems?
these "racial" problems?
yes, yes, racial problems in "eastern" europe...
of real concern...
the russian empire and the kazakh people...
mongol remains...
ottoman remains...
western europe now being nothing but
shame for the rest of us...
"the rest of us"... "us"...
"we" could have said... before they had a chance
to gloat... to buffer gloating...
to pride themselves beside pride per se...
to mistake pride for gloating...
before "we" came and learned their language...
and found the leashes of their starved
dobermann hounds...
the mediocre liberal elites of the dutch...
the belgians and their... swiss ambitions...
hell: did they really have to invite
the swedes into this "problem"?!
perhaps this is written in english...
sure as **** it's not written by a native...
i'm no more an englishman than
a parsley root is a ******* carrot!
although i dare say...
that essex hue of being: toasted...
coming from a lazy afternoon at a snippet
of a Brighton beach?
the well-tanned look?
no... even i don't want to fake being
Thai in December...
i thought i'd ease the "tension"...
who can say: i'm piglet pink with a dash of
cranberry... cosmopolitan cocktail whenever i
pretend to "feel like it"...
otherwise porky leather...
and then... the layers and hues of...
copper and chocolate *******...
then there's that amnesia rust...
and there's always that porcelain japanese...
the albino iranian and we can have
a ******* **** contrastic hues...
copper over there, some cinnamon over here...
some chocolate in between
and some porky leather 'ere...
personally i think i'm more sepia than white...
there's still that visible blood in my veins
that allowed me to conjure up:
the blue-bloods...
better in german: der blaugeblüt...
perhaps: when in rome...
well... the vandals and the rest of the evil brood
had to, at some point...
tell the romans... you're not being yourselves...
there's no longer a social cordiality in place...
there's no more: when in rome...
because i'm not native of these lands
and of this tongue...
but i will not be... smothered by some
*******-worth-a-roasting debility mongers
and mongrels of: subversion!
you should visit Russia from time to time...
if you get a chance to **** a siberian
******...
hell: don a ******, she'll tell you she's
on contraceptive pills...
then "all of a sudden" you'll find yourself
wondering: matt! i think i'm pregnant...
months after the relationship ended...
and she's on her next pair of gloves;
but she's calling you... for you to pick up
the pieces...
diese englischprobleme ar nicht mein "sache"!
and if there's a heaven...
i pray to god i speak some obscure dialect
of german... bohemian german...
silesian german...
i'll even settle for gothic german!
not for some love of the people...
i just want to imagine myself as having
died a: lebkuchenbäcker...
a gingerbreadbaker...
since *** didn't cut it...
and ******* became a yawn...
there's only this...
the remains of exploring language
without having those stiff, polite...
practical, teasing an escape from solipsism,
formal... samples of language use...
this is the best i can offer...
to use language for the sort of reasons...
that with the language thus used...
i will not have familiar ground to stand /
walk on... since this language does not
exist in the dignified everyday:
lick-the-envelope... seal it... send.
something happens in
the anglo-lingual world...
something correlating injustice...
"whiteness" - the babylon circus...
you name it... and somehow...
this doesn't explode to other areas
of the world, but merely implodes...
perhaps it's the same in france and germany...
how scandinavia (notably sweden)
succumbed to this: i will not or rather:
i don't want to know...
i actually miss not having made
myself available to my grandparents
for this past month...
i'm pretty sure i would have read
and read and stayed sober...
4 years outside of the confines of both
england and december teasing january...
a hip-replacement surgery of
a very demanding mother...
turns out... her worries were unjustified...
if the surgeon was happy...
the nurses were happy...
it required almost a month of passing...
her vampirism draining me...
until some physiotherapist explained
it to her...
but that's not enough...
to vacuum each day to better keep her
impulsive-compulsive ticks in check...
as much as i like the joke of owning
two bonsai tigers...
and i haven't minded the cooking,
the ironing, the whole Cindarella shabang...
but when there's all that...
and there's the father loitering
around waiting for a new contract...
all the great things i ended up doing
with a degree in chemistry...
this is my last outlet...
get busy scribbling,
drinking and... over-rating my ambitions...
but all these anglo-lingual problems
just invite themselves in...
i listen to them and...
on the doorsteps of Russia...
can you imagine what sort tangos this
multi-cultural experiment would dance
in Russia?
that's practically an Asian entity...
or in the Balkans with its still preserved
Turkic presence of Islam...
anywhere where...
- i really can't see the problems...
other than this: this is a very terrible piece
of writing... look at it...
flabby, disjointed...
different problems in Russia...
or... ha... written in the vicinity of London...
with a mind-set still bound up
to having Belarus and Ukraine as neighbours...
and Russia too...
on the hellbender periphery of "whiteness"...
this whole: we were colonial powers once
argument... is sort of dead on my ears...
even i can attest: the darker skinned Kenyans
and the lighter skinned Nigerians...
i'm actually tired of the whites
who are pushing their transcendental *******...
never more free if they didn't push their
ideas and instead learned a new language...
apparently england fares the worst
when it comes to bilingualism...
circa 30% of its 15 - 35 year olds speak
a second language...
compared with Denmark: circa 90+%...
germany circa 80%... Poland thereabouts...
for some reason i was never taught
to "love" my fellow-countrymen... being an émigré...
how much of it was an automated: self-exile
and how much of it: we did this for you
to have a better life...
better life - as i now ask...
it's a life... i don't have comparative literature
to call it any better or any worse...
it is what it is...
i'm tired and i'm drinking:
which usually implies that i will be more honest
than usual...
the better parts of me i've left with other people,
what i have accumulated is,
the worst part of them... mostly their: sanctimonious
appeal... or the bigmouth strikes: yet again...
even Russia is a multicultral societ...
but there's no prancing beyond the better part
of the trough of Moscow's snippet piglets...
moss-co... opt in or opt-out...
the lost ability to consecrate one's life
in postcard snippers of photographs:
that once upon a time other people would take...
but now you take yourself...
imagine a man that masturbates once...
every "blue moon"... on / off...
what door is opened most frequently
in the house? the fridge is opened more times
than even the front door...
and then there's the selfie barrage...
because... looking into a mirror is no longer
enough...
if photography can be an art-work...
what the hell is the photograph
when one can focus in on something in a mirror?
are people who take these photographs
are afraid of looking in the mirror?
to have to stand completely stark naked...
mollusk-esque...
and the world's not quiet an oyster...
and all that: one punch sucker and it's
not so much a one punch k.o.,
and a one punch k.o. and a postmortem...
i've seen one of these examples:
"i.r.l.": i even hovered over the body
with a bunch of bystanders and said
out-loud...
'well... this sweet ******* is
not seeing next spring' - i.e. getting up
and having life-support machines
attached to him...
evolutionary: to begin with...
it's norman normie normansky...
oh yeah, i've seen a one punch post-mortem,
i've been to a brothel,
and i've been to a strip-club...
but still in Russia...
and esp. in Poland...
on the periphery of "whiteness"...
and there was no "cipher" to follow-suit....
what's expected is...
not expected...
because the button of cleavage...
which... let's face it...
one can't distinguish it from the peach
of an ***...
i wonder: would i, ever be bound...
to the grand canyon; "exemplification"?
please, stress any "further"...
two croissants doing the rub-rub
in an imitation game for two mollusks *******...
as ever: looking for
a tomahawk and a... scalp...
but in Russia: you would never see
this pseudo!
pseudo is a cuss-word reserved for petting
hunting dogs...
when you want them to aport! in reverse....
not in Russia, not in Poland...
good cuck-luck taming Ukraine...
perhaps all these ******* ever knew...
was how to seem: mouthy...
appropriate... and what better place to start...
than some obscrucity equivalent
to Rotherham!
oh i see it... when the THETA becomes the V...
rover nor rho-f-f rho-f-f...
******* r and am!
or simply quartz... and spam canned ham!
i was never expected to be the thief among
prostitutes...
kissing and the dosage of the reprimand
buther... cut always below the bulk
of a knee... survived the thinning
of the shins...
in psychiatric terms my "codition" is alluded
to as: the crude soup...
never was a more sane man demanded
to feel inadequacy...
but i salvaged for better complaints...
this is not even, remotely assertive of...
when i want and i will not
disparage from sound savegery
and... "that thing in the back of my mind"...
the sane people call it:
the hallucination of morality...
they're all hush hush about it...
they don't want to be prescribed:
shock-treatment of... being dropped into
an ice bath... to hell with their bowties!
jesus mary and joseph...
i could never become a jack the ol' ripper
though... i became a tapeworm of kissing
when it came to the canvas of
prostitutes...
parasitical lips... bite-down tooth envy
of my great-grandfather...
what i could never kiss...
i always wanted to bite to tease with...
now my libido is satisfied...
i can claim not being the hyperbolic outlier....
i don't need a wife,
a mother in law... a child...
a shadow life of a Chikatilo...
to lend myself to Cain...
i can absolve myself with the rites of Abel...
how... oh how this most pristine how...
i only supposed i'd be dead...
and not playing both "victim"...
prosecutor... and inspector columbus to boot!
conventional language scares me...
there's so much hiding behind
immovable objects...
that in turn the moon or the table become
quasi-deities in a world
littered with demigod *****!
of the polytheistic gods...
which one... didn't chance a common semblance
to a *******?
perhaps i've earned this rigid tongue...
rattle and sawdust itching from it...
first bound...
last resort: this is not about to become
a conventionality of language...
this is not going to become...
an aud lang syne...
this is not going to become: tea-party
forget me: forget me or taste the forget-me-not!
revised lent topic: on the hellbender periphery...
how these post-colonial former subjects...
well unless you're in Poland,
Belarus, Ukraine, Russia...
mein gott! i really should start knocking
on Russian's door, more often...
this sort of ******* that's allowed
in England would be... most likely...
quickly suppressed...
for the good of the people:
it's always: for the good of the people...
oops... " "...
yeah yeah... "for the good of the people"...
the colonial ambitions...
and the guilt of being white in eastern europe...
which is why i can never master
the english conundrum...
while kenyans are darker than the nigerians...
but in their dark-choc...
seem to be basked in coconut oil
that oozes from the Indian ocean...
Kenyans who import timber from Ghana?
and the Nigerians...
oh sure sure sweetheart!
we can revive the Balkan enterprise...
you just say when!
we'll have the christian serbs run amok...
over the islam minorities...
sure sure...
it's almost akin to: teasing Russia
to climb out of its Caucasian bed-root...
when it ****** with the Turkic peoples...
and of course... coming across the
Afro-Europeans of the colonial present, past,
and future... there was only one history
of / for the Europeans...
origins in Africa...
sorry... what about the Indo- prefix?
here we have the sanskrit...
here we have the hierogylphs...
but... what of the writing of ancient
Kenyans?
i'm no better... came st. cyrill and his greek
contra the glagolitic...
which is... probably southern slavic...
and... there were the runes
and the ancient romans fighting
the tribes of Danube... but never as far north
as the Baltic did they come...
but in mind: i'm always going to be bound
to the periphery knocking on the doors
of Kiev and Novgorod...
with the Mongol also citing:
he too knocked...
something happened... had his hand cut off
at the wrist with the remnant budding
leftover of the Crimean Tartars...
so... this passover former colonial...
"grief" is now running former colonial society's
mischief?
am i white, or am i asian?
i will never know...
Islam and what? the crusades of the baltic states
by the teutonic knights?
and Europe and Europe and Europe
without the english, the myth of troy revived
in Italy... and the proud yet backward
greeks...
i too thought: if it's not feral enough...
it's feral enougn where english is not spoken!
after all... england is a far far away place...
even if i'm currently "living" in it...
it wasn't invaded and all it had to propose was...
its own ******* to the external world...
pristine england...
pristine p.s. england...
this anglo-phile... ahem... "problem"?
in ukraine or in russia?
it's a problem and a problem of this sort
is treated with a sort of amnesia...
equivalent to:
today's Monday, yes?
oh... today's not a Monday?
will i still you if you mind calling it a Tuesday?!
the body intact bound to a vicinity of London...
the mind... detached... elsewhere...
perhaps it was the over-rationalisation
of the darwinistic approach...
again: even copernicus didn't or wouldn't
have entertained such an over-reach
of his heliocentrism become dogmatic...
copernicus who?
exactly! only someone like wittgenstein
would celebrate copernicus...
the west only celebrates galileo:
because of the trial...
i can attest though... mendeleev is secure!
is it perhaps odd...
that some ****- would not find
differences between a croat
and a moldavian?
a kashubian and a silesian?
a scot an a welshman?
imagine my ah! gasp!
the tribes within a tribe...
the "home" team consisting of liverpudlians!
and the "away" team consisting of scousers!
liverpool f.c. supporters of the former...
everton supporters for the latter...
but we're all white!
i'm "white white" because i've acquired
this tongue and i can...
somehow... forget mein: wurzeln...
mind you... elsewhere?
that word... root? in deutschezunge?
wurzeln: decipher: nurse! scalpel!
wur-zeln...
no no... this will not do...
wü-ř-eln
alternatively...
wü-ž-eln...
and that's not "woo"... it's a V-not-U...
voor-zeln!
alternatively there's the ż (rz)...
which is equivalent to either ř or ž...
ř = r(z) and ž = (r)z...
"when" and "where" you know that's
an orthographic distinction to begin with...
i.e. ř = r(z) and ž = (r)z
when rz = ż...
i really have "real" problems to mind
of my own, on the periphery of:
the "western lands"... st. cyril is biting at my toes...
as ancient roman bites back...
the alphabet intact...
you either learn some greek...
or you don't gloat about being lazy about
not having acquired some passable "knowledge"
of cyrilic...
so? here's to taking another selfie from the perspective
of fearing to look into a mirror...
and here's to some new obscure modern hieroglyphic
take on the "thumbs-up"... and: shmiley :)!
better i stick to the diacritical markers...
niche point of interest...
niche to the point of claustrophobia...
but of all these anglo- problems?
these "racial" problems?
yes, yes, racial problems in "eastern" europe...
of real concern...
the russian empire and the kazakh people...
mongol remains...
ottoman remains...
western europe now being nothing but
shame for the rest of us...
"the rest of us"... "us"...
"we" could have said... before they had a chance
to gloat... to buffer gloating...
to pride themselves beside pride per se...
to mistake pride for gloating...
before "we" came and learned their language...
and found the leashes of their starved
dobermann hounds...
the mediocre liberal elites of the dutch...
the belgians and their... swiss ambitions...
hell: did they really have to invite
the swedes into this "problem"?!
perhaps this is written in english...
sure as **** it's not written by a native...
i'm no more an englishman than
a parsley root is a ******* carrot!
although i dare say...
that essex hue of being: toasted...
coming from a lazy afternoon at a snippet
of a Brighton beach?
the well-tanned look?
no... even i don't want to fake being
Thai in December...
i thought i'd ease the "tension"...
who can say: i'm piglet pink with a dash of
cranberry... cosmopolitan cocktail whenever i
pretend to "feel like it"...
otherwise porky leather...
and then... the layers and hues of...
copper and chocolate *******...
then there's that amnesia rust...
and there's always that porcelain japanese...
the albino iranian and we can have
a ******* **** contrastic hues...
copper over there, some cinnamon over here...
some chocolate in between
and some porky leather 'ere...
personally i think i'm more sepia than white...
there's still that visible blood in my veins
that allowed me to conjure up:
the blue-bloods...
better in german: der blaugeblüt...
perhaps: when in rome...
well... the vandals and the rest of the evil brood
had to, at some point...
tell the romans... you're not being yourselves...
there's no longer a social cordiality in place...
there's no more: when in rome...
because i'm not native of these lands
and of this tongue...
but i will not be... smothered by some
*******-worth-a-roasting debility mongers
and mongrels of: subversion!
you should visit Russia from time to time...
if you get a chance to **** a siberian
******...
hell: don a ******, she'll tell you she's
on contraceptive pills...
then "all of a sudden" you'll find yourself
wondering: matt! i think i'm pregnant...
months after the relationship ended...
and she's on her next pair of gloves;
but she's calling you... for you to pick up
the pieces...
diese englischprobleme ar nicht mein "sache"!
and if there's a heaven...
i pray to god i speak some obscure dialect
of german... bohemian german...
silesian german...
i'll even settle for gothic german!
not for some love of the people...
i just want to imagine myself as having
died a: lebkuchenbäcker...
a gingerbreadbaker...
since *** didn't cut it...
and ******* became a yawn...
there's only this...
the remains of exploring language
without having those stiff, polite...
practical, teasing an escape from solipsism,
formal... samples of language use...
this is the best i can offer...
to use language for the sort of reasons...
that with the language thus used...
i will not have familiar ground to stand /
walk on... since this language does not
exist in the dignified everyday:
lick-the-envelope... seal it... send.
Vladimir s Krebs
Jan 2016
when you have had it all all you want to do is escape from what grips may pull you down to your own memories you want to erase out of your mind. when it rains it washes off the words that sticks deep down in you. but what ideas that have saved your life in the past calming you down.
but when i walk this earth in the rain all the punches and blows only leave bruses but that won't let me speak my mind whit my calm soft spoken words.
my voice is soft in a tone nor threat. but when your word lie i may lose control but the cold rain cools off my paciants.
the cold rain drops make steam off my skin when i have no idea.
but in this worl my one friend is rain cause it makes life all around us live breath.
i have one walking path to make my path to show every one who needs to find away to survive. even if it mean running threw hell taking the chance to stand up and run till we have found all of our own safe haven.
i have no fear wit what comes next cause its just how this unforgiving world that it shows from its darkest secrets. but what should bee said only when your pushed away from society that you have betrayed from.
your shadows grow long when your eyes turn pure red as evil consums your telling you theres nothing to feel hurt my societ'es sufficating grips that has no end to..
but i have ran threw all the stages and here i have is me writing my own stories of my life that passes by with hope no regrets.
nothing can hold me back or catch me to imprison me.
but when i walk this earth in the rain all the punches and blows only leave bruses but that won't let me speak my mind whit my calm soft spoken words.
my voice is soft in a tone nor threat. but when your word lie i may lose control but the cold rain cools off my paciants.
the cold rain drops make steam off my skin when i have no idea.
but in this worl my one friend is rain cause it makes life all around us live breath.
i have one walking path to make my path to show every one who needs to find away to survive. even if it mean running threw hell taking the chance to stand up and run till we have found all of our own safe haven.
i have no fear wit what comes next cause its just how this unforgiving world that it shows from its darkest secrets. but what should bee said only when your pushed away from society that you have betrayed from.
your shadows grow long when your eyes turn pure red as evil consums your telling you theres nothing to feel hurt my societ'es sufficating grips that has no end to..
but i have ran threw all the stages and here i have is me writing my own stories of my life that passes by with hope no regrets.
nothing can hold me back or catch me to imprison me.
not one or two or three im untouchable i will revolt if u show threat to me