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Poems
Tadeusz Loarca
Jan 2017
Run little Polish boy
Run in your field
Learn of your great land
And what it may yield
Learn little polish boy
Learn how to fight
Soon you will grow up
And protect what is right
Know little polish man
Know about freedom
Go to the foreign land
And do what must be done
Fight now you polish man
Fight for the cause
Even if you might die
They have freedom in their jaws
You fight for America
Right on freedom's side
You fight for what you believe in
As you risk your hide
You make friend with founding fathers
As you fight for their home
You construct an army fortress
To protect them as you roam
When the war is over
they give you riches when you go
But you spend it on freedom
That you've come to know
You give it to a founding father
To give up all his slaves
Then you get on the boat
And face Atlantic waves
Fight now you polish man
Fight for where you where born
Fight hard polish man
Charge at the bleeding horns
You die now old polish man
You can not fight no more
Dead is the polish man
With freedom in his core
This is a Tribute to Tadeusz Kouzico a polish war hero who fought in the American revolution
Run in your field
Learn of your great land
And what it may yield
Learn little polish boy
Learn how to fight
Soon you will grow up
And protect what is right
Know little polish man
Know about freedom
Go to the foreign land
And do what must be done
Fight now you polish man
Fight for the cause
Even if you might die
They have freedom in their jaws
You fight for America
Right on freedom's side
You fight for what you believe in
As you risk your hide
You make friend with founding fathers
As you fight for their home
You construct an army fortress
To protect them as you roam
When the war is over
they give you riches when you go
But you spend it on freedom
That you've come to know
You give it to a founding father
To give up all his slaves
Then you get on the boat
And face Atlantic waves
Fight now you polish man
Fight for where you where born
Fight hard polish man
Charge at the bleeding horns
You die now old polish man
You can not fight no more
Dead is the polish man
With freedom in his core
This is a Tribute to Tadeusz Kouzico a polish war hero who fought in the American revolution
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2017
i finally made the wine
Mateuš Conrad
Jan 2017
i can't stop feeling this pounce of melancholy,
and i mean: it's like a lynx pouncing on my chest,
i can't even claim a clinical dimension to it,
it's a sadness that comes on two fronts...
it's a sadness that i left Poland when i was 8,
and the greater part of my life was spent
using the English language...
and i find the Anglophone world so devoid
of consistency... all this post-truth
labelling...
this throwing of the cartesian maxim the other
way around, the "i am" really does
predated the "i think" scenario on the hopes
of asking for a genesis, a (0, 0) / (ο, ω) coordinate
beginning... yes, i know more of a dougnut
and less the orbit of a planet in the latter case...
i can't believe i'm getting this technical -
but it sometimes happens, you know?
i don't really like it... i'd love to write about less
claustrophobic matters, less constrictive intellectual
matters... and before you shoot me down
by denouncing the crass lack of motivation -
i am frail in undertaking another "poem",
and i mean that as a way of saying:
terse narration and no claim to technique,
or at least that's what i know is modern...
i watch the following list of videos
as a sort of freak-natured lullaby while drinking
Obey the Walrus I FEEL FANTASTIC
Agamemnon Counterpart Username 666
Cursed Kleenex Commercial There is nothing
Performance Olivier de Sagazan 2008
The Wyoming Incident My Dead Great
Grandma’s Coffin in My Own backyard!
K-Fee Car Commercial Pretty Woman
Fatal Diving Accident Girl Goes ****** During
Makeup Tutorial Paris Catacombs Lost Footage
Shaye Saint John – Hand Thing (yes, copy & paste
given the uppercase lettering, i can be lazy
once in a while) -
so i do see a lot of potential in
these clips... if you can't dazzle them: might as well
scare them...
but i watch them and then write
a native-language poem while listening to
music accompanying a zbigniew herbert poem
by tadeusz woźniak - and i get all nitty gritty
when using a language i should have forgotten
aged 8... and i type one out and i am brought
to tears with it... and then it vanishes from the html
blank...
and then a deeper horror sets in,
which Ezra Pound would have liked
and it merely means: ten quotes by Horace,
a video, with only 230 views on youtube...
no one would dare say carpe diem
like a cliche after seeing this video...
but still the sadness persists...
and i can't make it systematic, not systematic in
the sense that it might appeal to the zeitgeist of:
the January blues, or... i need the pharmacological
rainbow...
i have a miniature vineyard... enough for
35 litres of wine... and i make the wine myself...
i pick the grapes...
i crush them, i buy the yeast, i melt the sugar until
i get runny sugar-thick water,
and you know? out of the 5 litre holders for it...
i get about 10 pristine bottles of wine,
roughly in the range of 15% a pop...
from 35 litres i get about 10 pristine bottles
of wine... quality-wise: the stuff you'd expect to
buy in a shopping market...
and that's the sad part...
it bothers me that i've waited for long for the wine,
i might have mentioned it a few months back that
i do actually make my own wine... but given the addiction
it's a product that could only last for something
worth celebrating...
these days people speak of a marathon's
worth of abstinance from the stuff for a month...
which is a bit sad, given that if people ventured
into producing their own alcohol, they'd have
a Dionysian month of binging on it... and then having
11 months being sober... until the natural cycle comes
back, like the rare event of a comet...
i'm sad i lost a few poems on the way...
but i'm also sad that the drinking should begin by spring
and that i'm ****** already...
that i'm still buying whiskey,
and when i do actually drink that one bottle of clouded
wine today, i'll feel a sense of the most minute accomplishment...
i can't stop facing this industrialisation of
everything... whether it's alcohol, or art...
or intellectual debate...
sure, i'll listen to Breitbart for a bit...
then i'll listen in on how we've began mutilating
language... then i'll think of god, and recount
kant's concept: imagine the pangs of despair i felt
reading through the second volume of the critique -
if you do: you'd be surprised by what's involved
in transcendental methodology...
what could possibly obstruct you in the existence
of: said word... not enlarged in religious practices?
i am comforted by the fact that kant deals with
god on a non-religious basis...
religious i mean: worthy of a reciting only one
book a thousand ******* times and building churches...
if god is merely lodged in your mind and allows
for a narrative, who is sane enough to take that
narrative initiative from you, considering the fact
that you're not bound to kneel and read only one
book a thousand times as if that one book held
the sole capacity for your vocab exfoliation and learning
of the alphabet?
how can you ever be bound to a cognitive detestation
of god? that really must be painful...
considering that thought is so ****** whimsical, frail,
picky, panicky... give it all you want...
you can't establish a cognitive detestation of god
on the simple ground that thought is being bombarded
by a 5:1 ratio of the senses versus 1 non-sense -
which god evidently is: given the numbers of
the good-church going folks... kneeling lunatics i call them...
but the simple fact that you want to do a lobotomy on
yourself with atheism, is a bit like saying
you'll censor the mathematical statement 1 + 1 = 2...
at least the concept of god is: language exists...
and can i add to that? if a being as such exists:
he wouldn't consist of games... the verbal colliseum
of anagrams and crosswords... language you seize
to be entertaining... it would spell out a clear
format: a x, y, z vector precision:
starting from point (0, 0) moving to (1, 1),
(2, 2) to ( 5, 5) etc. you'd get a y = x graph...
not a ******* parabola of nuance and political
chess... or nuanced ***...
and is that a.i.?
well: the french question about man inventing
god because it would be useful is much better said
these days since we we have the capacity to create ourselves...
and given how it looks: i'm going to be a caveman
trapped in a two-dimensional world of the collective
consciousness by the time the true avant-garde in this
medium starts... creating a god became boring...
so many had to recreate himself in the robotic form...
man is currently needing this exploration...
forget the space project... it's a case of definition...
but i'm still melancholic about the wine...
i've been waiting to sniff it and feel the sharpness
of the alcohol for a good 3 months...
and i really wish i could write in my native tongue
so easily as i do in my acquired tongue...
i'm sad because i'm drinking the whiskey
prior, rather than getting completely sloshed on
what alcoholism looked prior:
it's that curse of town insomnia and how we don't
celebrate enough of what comes with natural
cycles...
which means that ontology is dead...
given we've managed to tame the seasons...
means that any ontological question, based on
the cycle of wine-making, brings us to a more dreary
position than with nietzsche's god is dead...
look here: at least you have something tangible...
you can't erase god from thinking...
it's the primost a priori essence of every, single man,
it's not an a posteriori fact,
god is there, in that a priori medium like space
and time...
and why do people never claim
that god can contain a dualism, primarily because
the herd is encapsulated by a monotheism?
if god could ever be an a posteriori you'd
be forced to experience some sort of revelation,
and later encounter the evil contained within the concept's
dualism, so in actual sense: be considered mad:
for not making certain choices in life and wishing to
reach for the pulpit... mind you: i had such an experience...
and my life didn't become better for it...
evidently i should have pressed harder for
the ontological argument of: marrying the girl...
but then the same ontological argument came back
to me when i started making wine...
meaning i could produce alcohol
on an industrial level... and forget any ritualism involved
in consuming it prior... since i would only be
left with an addictive socio-pathological use of the
once celebrated, collective engagement by waiting for
autumn to ferment and keep me warm through
the winter... which i suppose is when all the Greeks
were kept together... drinking and ******* rather
than bother to exploit natural resources like gas and oil...
but hey! that's just me...
but there's a sadness behind this...
start making your own wine and you'll see it...
which is to say: i don't know whether i'd have lived
a happy life with my russian fiance...
i have only a quantum idealism to mind
expressed by fanciying myself counter to the history
i'm writing right now...
so why is god as a priori bound as time and space?
well... why would you otherwise get so many eager
atheist gobs to reach for an argument?
i find that the most authentic atheists are
murderers... why? they have transcended
the cognitive debility of an atheistic argument...
i'll prove god does not exist by "thinking" about it...
my my: what a lovely congregation you have there!
i'm not even trying to be clever here...
well... there's an antidote to this scenario...
so he's permanently lodged in our a priori
"consciousness" (might as well do away with psychiatry
******* about with its three-layer cake of
con- subcon- and uncon-) -
and he's not lodged in our a posteriori
"consciousness" - i hate becoming the fiddler on the roof -
because what then? experiencing the omniniscence
and the omnipotency and whatever other trait that ******
thing does, would translate as what?
at best a monotheism... or a place where people concentrate
in numbers... not necessarily worths of being beyond
the estimates concerning their congregation...
it's dangerous to claim a god in the a posteriori
realm...
that's why the safest place to keep him is in
the a priori realm... where all the big things happen,
or don't happen, depending whether you're from New York
or Hiroshima...
and following from kant's distinction
in transcendental methodology concerning time and space...
and god...
it dawned on me that he did see a distinction
between mathematical language and the lingua of
doodling and anagrams and all those poetic jives that
give no precision...
if time... then space...
if god... then nothing...
and how are dual in the a priori realm...
only that with regards to time and space
i'm more likely to throw a 1, or a 2 into conceptualising
these things, than i am to throw an a, or a b into it...
algebra is secondary in talking about these two mediums...
why? because i'll get a definite rationalisation of
time and space... if i tell you the fastest man on earth
can run 100m in under 10secs...
if i throw in x y z into this: i might as well
end this whole narrative with: oi! Zeno! give us
that Achilles joke!
when i mean god i mean: medium of
communication... that's not necessarily a democratic
omni-versed plateau of sponging everything every human
has to say...
but i primarily throw 1, 2, 3... 4, 5... 8, 9 and 0
into the a priori conceptualisation of time and space...
but if i do the same when i throw in the other symbols
into the a priori conceptualisation of god and nothing -
sure, mathematical symbols can be phonetic encoding,
as one, two, three, four... five, six...
but apply them as one two three four to time and space
and there's no way to rationalise time and space,
because time and space is met with a nonsense
in dealing with a phonetic encoding of 1 (as one) -
due to the vacuum of space... and the timelessness of
time as a ref. point fixated upon... let's just leave
it with the vacuum of space... 2 overpowers two (because
of to and too), 3 overpowers three (because of free)...
4 overpowers four (because of for)... not only that:
but they're more about photographic memory
and visual conceptualisation ease - no one really bothers
a - z to be anything more than: what they actually
are as phonetically: awaiting pronunciation.
sure... letter can become mystical in a sense of:
y looks like a tree (other than pine),
H is a rugby goal...
w is a cosine graph...
y is a serpent's tongue...
but that's mysticism and that's also: fair enough!
what bugs me is the opposite of the a priori
magnetism... as opposed to space and time...
god and nothing...
well... if i throw 1 and 0 into a priori thinking
about working time and space...
i'll get, say: 365 days in a calendar year...
or that the acceleration of earth if 9.8 metres
per seconds squared... (cubic gravity evidently
becomes a bit pointless -
imagine it:
9.8m/s(superscript)3... or 9.8m(superscript)2/s...
or whatever variation...
no wonder the chemists got the ****-end of the stick
when they were told they weren't allowed into
the heaven of superscript... but sent to the subscript hell
of writing dwom oxygen... ah shame: Faust! i'm coming!)...
yes... but throw 1 - 0 into the a priori
"conceptualisation" opposite of time and space,
i.e. god and nothing... the best answer you can get
is matthew chapter 1 verse 8... or SIX SIX SIX! boogie man!
well... not... you throw in the symbols α - ω
into the a priori "conceptualisation" of god & nothing
and you get, e.g.: δατυμ -
which basically means: it can't be meaningless -
otherwise we'd be stuck with animalistic intuition
and intelligence, overloaded with sensual intelligence
and not marred by the murk of thought...
how this devolution happened is beyond me...
no amount of wit makes up for the sensual sharpness of
a monkey shouting at a congregation: spy! snake!
and all with the bare minumum of phonetic distinction...
thus α - ω are slightly meaningless when it comes
to time and space, i know these symbols to enter
this a priori venture, but we're still primarily talking
about using 1 - 0 symbols to get at the knitting-work...
just like in verse, i say of a crossword
sound of Valhalla (4),
and you say: 1 across... horn!
and then we get the pretty picture.
3a.m.
and the wine ritual is about to begin...
and i mean: it's like a lynx pouncing on my chest,
i can't even claim a clinical dimension to it,
it's a sadness that comes on two fronts...
it's a sadness that i left Poland when i was 8,
and the greater part of my life was spent
using the English language...
and i find the Anglophone world so devoid
of consistency... all this post-truth
labelling...
this throwing of the cartesian maxim the other
way around, the "i am" really does
predated the "i think" scenario on the hopes
of asking for a genesis, a (0, 0) / (ο, ω) coordinate
beginning... yes, i know more of a dougnut
and less the orbit of a planet in the latter case...
i can't believe i'm getting this technical -
but it sometimes happens, you know?
i don't really like it... i'd love to write about less
claustrophobic matters, less constrictive intellectual
matters... and before you shoot me down
by denouncing the crass lack of motivation -
i am frail in undertaking another "poem",
and i mean that as a way of saying:
terse narration and no claim to technique,
or at least that's what i know is modern...
i watch the following list of videos
as a sort of freak-natured lullaby while drinking
Obey the Walrus I FEEL FANTASTIC
Agamemnon Counterpart Username 666
Cursed Kleenex Commercial There is nothing
Performance Olivier de Sagazan 2008
The Wyoming Incident My Dead Great
Grandma’s Coffin in My Own backyard!
K-Fee Car Commercial Pretty Woman
Fatal Diving Accident Girl Goes ****** During
Makeup Tutorial Paris Catacombs Lost Footage
Shaye Saint John – Hand Thing (yes, copy & paste
given the uppercase lettering, i can be lazy
once in a while) -
so i do see a lot of potential in
these clips... if you can't dazzle them: might as well
scare them...
but i watch them and then write
a native-language poem while listening to
music accompanying a zbigniew herbert poem
by tadeusz woźniak - and i get all nitty gritty
when using a language i should have forgotten
aged 8... and i type one out and i am brought
to tears with it... and then it vanishes from the html
blank...
and then a deeper horror sets in,
which Ezra Pound would have liked
and it merely means: ten quotes by Horace,
a video, with only 230 views on youtube...
no one would dare say carpe diem
like a cliche after seeing this video...
but still the sadness persists...
and i can't make it systematic, not systematic in
the sense that it might appeal to the zeitgeist of:
the January blues, or... i need the pharmacological
rainbow...
i have a miniature vineyard... enough for
35 litres of wine... and i make the wine myself...
i pick the grapes...
i crush them, i buy the yeast, i melt the sugar until
i get runny sugar-thick water,
and you know? out of the 5 litre holders for it...
i get about 10 pristine bottles of wine,
roughly in the range of 15% a pop...
from 35 litres i get about 10 pristine bottles
of wine... quality-wise: the stuff you'd expect to
buy in a shopping market...
and that's the sad part...
it bothers me that i've waited for long for the wine,
i might have mentioned it a few months back that
i do actually make my own wine... but given the addiction
it's a product that could only last for something
worth celebrating...
these days people speak of a marathon's
worth of abstinance from the stuff for a month...
which is a bit sad, given that if people ventured
into producing their own alcohol, they'd have
a Dionysian month of binging on it... and then having
11 months being sober... until the natural cycle comes
back, like the rare event of a comet...
i'm sad i lost a few poems on the way...
but i'm also sad that the drinking should begin by spring
and that i'm ****** already...
that i'm still buying whiskey,
and when i do actually drink that one bottle of clouded
wine today, i'll feel a sense of the most minute accomplishment...
i can't stop facing this industrialisation of
everything... whether it's alcohol, or art...
or intellectual debate...
sure, i'll listen to Breitbart for a bit...
then i'll listen in on how we've began mutilating
language... then i'll think of god, and recount
kant's concept: imagine the pangs of despair i felt
reading through the second volume of the critique -
if you do: you'd be surprised by what's involved
in transcendental methodology...
what could possibly obstruct you in the existence
of: said word... not enlarged in religious practices?
i am comforted by the fact that kant deals with
god on a non-religious basis...
religious i mean: worthy of a reciting only one
book a thousand ******* times and building churches...
if god is merely lodged in your mind and allows
for a narrative, who is sane enough to take that
narrative initiative from you, considering the fact
that you're not bound to kneel and read only one
book a thousand times as if that one book held
the sole capacity for your vocab exfoliation and learning
of the alphabet?
how can you ever be bound to a cognitive detestation
of god? that really must be painful...
considering that thought is so ****** whimsical, frail,
picky, panicky... give it all you want...
you can't establish a cognitive detestation of god
on the simple ground that thought is being bombarded
by a 5:1 ratio of the senses versus 1 non-sense -
which god evidently is: given the numbers of
the good-church going folks... kneeling lunatics i call them...
but the simple fact that you want to do a lobotomy on
yourself with atheism, is a bit like saying
you'll censor the mathematical statement 1 + 1 = 2...
at least the concept of god is: language exists...
and can i add to that? if a being as such exists:
he wouldn't consist of games... the verbal colliseum
of anagrams and crosswords... language you seize
to be entertaining... it would spell out a clear
format: a x, y, z vector precision:
starting from point (0, 0) moving to (1, 1),
(2, 2) to ( 5, 5) etc. you'd get a y = x graph...
not a ******* parabola of nuance and political
chess... or nuanced ***...
and is that a.i.?
well: the french question about man inventing
god because it would be useful is much better said
these days since we we have the capacity to create ourselves...
and given how it looks: i'm going to be a caveman
trapped in a two-dimensional world of the collective
consciousness by the time the true avant-garde in this
medium starts... creating a god became boring...
so many had to recreate himself in the robotic form...
man is currently needing this exploration...
forget the space project... it's a case of definition...
but i'm still melancholic about the wine...
i've been waiting to sniff it and feel the sharpness
of the alcohol for a good 3 months...
and i really wish i could write in my native tongue
so easily as i do in my acquired tongue...
i'm sad because i'm drinking the whiskey
prior, rather than getting completely sloshed on
what alcoholism looked prior:
it's that curse of town insomnia and how we don't
celebrate enough of what comes with natural
cycles...
which means that ontology is dead...
given we've managed to tame the seasons...
means that any ontological question, based on
the cycle of wine-making, brings us to a more dreary
position than with nietzsche's god is dead...
look here: at least you have something tangible...
you can't erase god from thinking...
it's the primost a priori essence of every, single man,
it's not an a posteriori fact,
god is there, in that a priori medium like space
and time...
and why do people never claim
that god can contain a dualism, primarily because
the herd is encapsulated by a monotheism?
if god could ever be an a posteriori you'd
be forced to experience some sort of revelation,
and later encounter the evil contained within the concept's
dualism, so in actual sense: be considered mad:
for not making certain choices in life and wishing to
reach for the pulpit... mind you: i had such an experience...
and my life didn't become better for it...
evidently i should have pressed harder for
the ontological argument of: marrying the girl...
but then the same ontological argument came back
to me when i started making wine...
meaning i could produce alcohol
on an industrial level... and forget any ritualism involved
in consuming it prior... since i would only be
left with an addictive socio-pathological use of the
once celebrated, collective engagement by waiting for
autumn to ferment and keep me warm through
the winter... which i suppose is when all the Greeks
were kept together... drinking and ******* rather
than bother to exploit natural resources like gas and oil...
but hey! that's just me...
but there's a sadness behind this...
start making your own wine and you'll see it...
which is to say: i don't know whether i'd have lived
a happy life with my russian fiance...
i have only a quantum idealism to mind
expressed by fanciying myself counter to the history
i'm writing right now...
so why is god as a priori bound as time and space?
well... why would you otherwise get so many eager
atheist gobs to reach for an argument?
i find that the most authentic atheists are
murderers... why? they have transcended
the cognitive debility of an atheistic argument...
i'll prove god does not exist by "thinking" about it...
my my: what a lovely congregation you have there!
i'm not even trying to be clever here...
well... there's an antidote to this scenario...
so he's permanently lodged in our a priori
"consciousness" (might as well do away with psychiatry
******* about with its three-layer cake of
con- subcon- and uncon-) -
and he's not lodged in our a posteriori
"consciousness" - i hate becoming the fiddler on the roof -
because what then? experiencing the omniniscence
and the omnipotency and whatever other trait that ******
thing does, would translate as what?
at best a monotheism... or a place where people concentrate
in numbers... not necessarily worths of being beyond
the estimates concerning their congregation...
it's dangerous to claim a god in the a posteriori
realm...
that's why the safest place to keep him is in
the a priori realm... where all the big things happen,
or don't happen, depending whether you're from New York
or Hiroshima...
and following from kant's distinction
in transcendental methodology concerning time and space...
and god...
it dawned on me that he did see a distinction
between mathematical language and the lingua of
doodling and anagrams and all those poetic jives that
give no precision...
if time... then space...
if god... then nothing...
and how are dual in the a priori realm...
only that with regards to time and space
i'm more likely to throw a 1, or a 2 into conceptualising
these things, than i am to throw an a, or a b into it...
algebra is secondary in talking about these two mediums...
why? because i'll get a definite rationalisation of
time and space... if i tell you the fastest man on earth
can run 100m in under 10secs...
if i throw in x y z into this: i might as well
end this whole narrative with: oi! Zeno! give us
that Achilles joke!
when i mean god i mean: medium of
communication... that's not necessarily a democratic
omni-versed plateau of sponging everything every human
has to say...
but i primarily throw 1, 2, 3... 4, 5... 8, 9 and 0
into the a priori conceptualisation of time and space...
but if i do the same when i throw in the other symbols
into the a priori conceptualisation of god and nothing -
sure, mathematical symbols can be phonetic encoding,
as one, two, three, four... five, six...
but apply them as one two three four to time and space
and there's no way to rationalise time and space,
because time and space is met with a nonsense
in dealing with a phonetic encoding of 1 (as one) -
due to the vacuum of space... and the timelessness of
time as a ref. point fixated upon... let's just leave
it with the vacuum of space... 2 overpowers two (because
of to and too), 3 overpowers three (because of free)...
4 overpowers four (because of for)... not only that:
but they're more about photographic memory
and visual conceptualisation ease - no one really bothers
a - z to be anything more than: what they actually
are as phonetically: awaiting pronunciation.
sure... letter can become mystical in a sense of:
y looks like a tree (other than pine),
H is a rugby goal...
w is a cosine graph...
y is a serpent's tongue...
but that's mysticism and that's also: fair enough!
what bugs me is the opposite of the a priori
magnetism... as opposed to space and time...
god and nothing...
well... if i throw 1 and 0 into a priori thinking
about working time and space...
i'll get, say: 365 days in a calendar year...
or that the acceleration of earth if 9.8 metres
per seconds squared... (cubic gravity evidently
becomes a bit pointless -
imagine it:
9.8m/s(superscript)3... or 9.8m(superscript)2/s...
or whatever variation...
no wonder the chemists got the ****-end of the stick
when they were told they weren't allowed into
the heaven of superscript... but sent to the subscript hell
of writing dwom oxygen... ah shame: Faust! i'm coming!)...
yes... but throw 1 - 0 into the a priori
"conceptualisation" opposite of time and space,
i.e. god and nothing... the best answer you can get
is matthew chapter 1 verse 8... or SIX SIX SIX! boogie man!
well... not... you throw in the symbols α - ω
into the a priori "conceptualisation" of god & nothing
and you get, e.g.: δατυμ -
which basically means: it can't be meaningless -
otherwise we'd be stuck with animalistic intuition
and intelligence, overloaded with sensual intelligence
and not marred by the murk of thought...
how this devolution happened is beyond me...
no amount of wit makes up for the sensual sharpness of
a monkey shouting at a congregation: spy! snake!
and all with the bare minumum of phonetic distinction...
thus α - ω are slightly meaningless when it comes
to time and space, i know these symbols to enter
this a priori venture, but we're still primarily talking
about using 1 - 0 symbols to get at the knitting-work...
just like in verse, i say of a crossword
sound of Valhalla (4),
and you say: 1 across... horn!
and then we get the pretty picture.
3a.m.
and the wine ritual is about to begin...
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2020
vielen dank zu gott!
Mateuš Conrad
Jul 2020
...and that i own a bed.., but rather sleep on the floor... make-up an Ibiza from a Beirut... i rather **** the fathoming of a fizzle... to somehow compensate the tirade... this most unwelcome clue and loss... this gravity toward a... copper skin... and spit of biting totoises toying: limbo years... leftover... come... cushioning brief: fudge-packaged "thought"... this limbo-slant... as somewhat crude work-around... kiev a... "scheme"...
vielen dank zu gott! many thanks to god!
my greatest fear is that of homelessness...
who's to fear... to fear and "what"?
to be at home is some synoynmous
with something:
beside a being: and a home!
loitering in the quasi lane...
i'm about to travel across
europe with three rotten
teeth and i'm to suspect:
myself toying with some
variation of journalism...
i see no end to the cold,
or war... the warm or
the shrapnel excavation
project...
when communism
was beast established
among the slavs
as your: yours one and truly...
antagonistic
warsaw pact whistling
and lobotomy...
even if i were the evil genius
of descartes...
i wouldn't be so...
fine detailed: ****...
so... pristine... so...
otherwise... lobotomy blues...
exactly! what's scary is not
the laws being implemented...
but how... easily they are...
talk about climbing a tree...
talk about learning to ride
a bike... achieving a pass
with a bruised knee...
a scrap: heaping...
lost teeth and... what of the jihad...
for the lost fraction of the ummah...
what of the jihad...
expected... in the chinese...
where is the ummah to be
summed to salvage...
and save the...
frolic over...
the detail... in hair...
when hair is being shipped
away to "elsewhere"...
for ****-holes awaiting...
xinjiang... hair from...
would be... hibernating bear farts...
the jihad! the jihad!
i'm guessing the arab elites
are in on the "gimmick" with
the choke ***** men...
because... jihad only behaves
like a jihad on former
cursader territory...
south of france...
herr tao is somehow immune...
calls for being debility funny...
calls for...
bonfires of the turban of the sikhs...
orientating...
the house of gondor with
the house of rohan...
we'z needz 'air!
atypical confused jihadi saladin would-be...
we must all thank...
vielen dank zu gott!
but i still wait...
for the jihad to save the... project islam inc.
of the ummah...
sloth-riddles of the islamic project...
clearly they want to stamp on
the face of a man beaten down by...
a non-resurrected christianity...
too scared to face off with...
chinese atheism...
*****-soldiers... where the ummah
where the... oh... wait...
the bangladeshi being paid
in "reperations" having
a chance to relieve themselves
with a game of cricket...
i'd sooner send... the locust
to abu dhabi than allow a foot
of mine to set...
on a worse idea beside the already
ailing reality of venice...
once upon a time...
was the fortune of settling on the basin
of the river...
all that oil must have shot those
arabs to the head...
the egyptians started screaming
at the camel-jockeys:
you never listened to the sand-*******...
did you?
all that black gold in one's pocket...
all that... yacht ambition...
all that and that...
all that frivolity... prized pride of
the... ahem... "ummah"...
looks like the chinese muslims are
forever and the will of the dubai classics...
fern fusions readied for...
the wigs!
****** readied they are...
some mongols would dear strap a horse
to their grave than excavate a hair plough
from...
eh... slaving prior to genocide...
it's like... they are... "allies"...
it's a genocide mingling
with a joke... of slavery...
but the slaves did work that...
oh no... the germans didn't trust...
the hebrews with anything...
they performed genocide like a "failure"...
or rather a joke...
ask the serbs...
ask someone in rwanda...
you never perform a genocide...
by way of... imitating slavery...
by... stalling... by making people perform
menial tasks...
hello horror...
hello the sleeping ummah of islam...
to outright **** a people...
you wouldn't want them...
being teased...
a god teasing and his precursor for
having a 2000 year old wait
to establish: re- ishrael...
the outliers of rome...
alaos pagan... converted to
the judeo-greco project of: three rotten teeth...
"toxic masculinity"... problem?
not enough of it is going around...
enough for it to be shared...
likewise...
my retreating toward...
japanese insinuation ****...
gravure idols...
hell... absolute "toxic femininity"...
porcelain white girls...
all... lemon *******... peanuts dead...
while their... glob-trotting...
glutton sized up 66s...
have forgotten the concept of:
insinuation ****...
foreplay...
all readied for...
extract ******* woman...
****... bred for... **** like a piston...
****** readied...
blah "blah"...
it doesn't translate... plain jane...
the sort of toxic you seek...
in man... revels in a deity lady madonna...
i **** myself over all second come...
blessings! blessings they calls them...
yeah... the best dates i've ever had...
concerning the "middle path"
of buddha is bound to the clarity
of a transation in a brothel...
so much for a justified jihad in xinjiang
to... save the people of the ummah...
pseudo malcom X consricpt... 0...
negation... not going to happen...
japanese porcelein ****...
but they'll wait for the hyprocrisy...
they'll come for the arabs first...
when they finally engineer a man...
that will be better than all
the supposed doping advances of western man
allowed...
i'm starting to like *******
from the perspective of a japanese hard-on...
insinuation...
i'm less the ****** and i'm more...
about to sniff a stinking dog's bowl
of processed meat of a ****'s oyster behalf...
i like that...
less *****... more hard-on...
n'ah... i never did buy into the whole:
sorry loser ******* in amsterdam
cinema sessions...
i liked... the tease of a tier...
more imaginative... more human...
than... a tease of a harem via a niqab...
so... no jihad come xinjiang?
should we suppose the mongols also invested
in a conversion and it wasn't the grand
imitation buddha kahn?
the wrath subsided: god was proven...
time for meditation...
what's a jihad...
when you could entertain...
the... tsunami of the horde of...
the fall of angels.... fully-workable replica
metaphor...
what's the ****-poor islam "spread"
by comparison?
no real ummah then...
unless...
that's diesel of a lamborghini burning
rubber on a tarmac in knightsbirdge
for a faking 'ard on...
two days from now...
i'll be passing through germany...
i'll be retiring 2 weeks to that land
of paradoxes that's my land of birth...
the aristocratic democracy brothel
of crown and... *******...
foreign hands foreign lands...
all the ready to retreat into their habsburg cul de sacs
of prior to: asserted powers...
no... there's just that...
"we" forgot a healthy ground for
doubt... the plethora of emotion...
the rollercoaster of it...
there's just now... the yoyo-denial cringe
lobotomy...
the best best cringe...
slav soviet communist...
Teddy! Teddy! sell 'em spleen
and iron grips!
no good Warsaw Tadeusz!
Beijin new bwest fwend!
t-eee-sted...
new zealand: tee-st...
not station: tested... but...
t-eee-sted **** the rats and retards...
the philonthropes...
because...
the noise made by bwah bwah...
the misathrope...
it's like an accent from...
that last best reserved concept
of growing figs... otherwise a...
goof-ball and course for ralph...
now for the self-congratulatory letter
of championing the dodo project:
well thank **** for not solving this brain-drain
spaghetti puzzle and not exactly buying into
the d.n.a. project ugly pass...
with all that..... bewildering...
"consciousness" debate...
michael myers' "consciousness" debate...
one... 'em... those sudoku nuggets
of... "sober"?!
best resolved...
i drink alcohol to keep calm...
after i forgot to... take my ****** pills...
my... i came late to the party...
21 was illegal to smoke marijuana...
amitriptyline... 25mg...
how many times do i think
about a slaughterhouse?
i think of all the boys with:
chemical soup for brains aged
16 and under...
i was lucky...
they only got to me aged 21...
i was still allowed to retain
a labyrinth of wording(s) to shelter my anger with...
surprise? what surprise?
toxic masculinity = not enough james bonds
running amok for...
oh... weight... *****-whipping...
there's all that... i forgot what...
period drama this was all about...
drink drink drink...
i'll sooner kick my liver dead than...
allow society to sober my half-wit frankenstein
brain of theirs...
i'll die with:
i don't scare myself with drowning...
i don't scare myself with falling...
flat into a pancake...
i shouldn't be afraid of homelessness...
but i am because...
this avenue of the freely available stars...
and those... made rebel...
that will answer to me...
the butterfly... waiting...
for the most pristine... prized... first...
insecurity of... h'america about to be exported...
and it's a... oh my! a zephyr...
tornado... one of those: flush 'em...
when you 'ave 'em...
sort of... scenarios...
hegel: improtune... the will of the thinking man...
thought is a butterfly...
it's hardly... a well-knitted-marx-beard-and-sweater
of consolidations...
honest to the god i don't believe in...
i'd shadow **** that crucifix if it
had a japanese gravure model hanging on it...
******* as insinuation...
they did catch me...
libido pressed...
aged 21...
they would have got to me aged 16 and prior...
with ****** and former brain:
the chemical soup...
i want to smash **** up... then i remind
myself: wait... and giggle...
the extract... mikhail popkov...
albert fish... fan boy for every:
groupie of history...
is that... like... a somewhat missing:
oops?
CHRISTINE CHUBBUCK...
INCEL...
wouldn't it be... just.. oh so strange...
to... drag a man into a prison cell...
and shoot them... obviously retaining leaving
them there to rot...
andrei chikatilo...
the urban myth of cockroaches
being subjected to the guillotine...
sure... whizz vite boyz aged...
napoleon dynamite... jeffrey dahmer...
16 is the right time to call brainz...
chem. soup...
bubbly...
me comez 21... me's perfecto...
me no cain signature idiot primo...
i like me horror story...
i get to play the... plot line of
the anaesthetic...
who is to be surprised by: who's who...
of anyone's who of...
the currency of... this... surf...
lost... a "somehow"...
a "somewhat"...
oh... this is... for... today?
this has to be...
the advent of the pontius pilate metaphor...
no... not me...
dies ist alles sie:
scheiße! es ist mich?
verwesendtrauben....
kommen, sehen... der welt...
verstopfungselbst.
vielen dank zu gott! many thanks to god!
my greatest fear is that of homelessness...
who's to fear... to fear and "what"?
to be at home is some synoynmous
with something:
beside a being: and a home!
loitering in the quasi lane...
i'm about to travel across
europe with three rotten
teeth and i'm to suspect:
myself toying with some
variation of journalism...
i see no end to the cold,
or war... the warm or
the shrapnel excavation
project...
when communism
was beast established
among the slavs
as your: yours one and truly...
antagonistic
warsaw pact whistling
and lobotomy...
even if i were the evil genius
of descartes...
i wouldn't be so...
fine detailed: ****...
so... pristine... so...
otherwise... lobotomy blues...
exactly! what's scary is not
the laws being implemented...
but how... easily they are...
talk about climbing a tree...
talk about learning to ride
a bike... achieving a pass
with a bruised knee...
a scrap: heaping...
lost teeth and... what of the jihad...
for the lost fraction of the ummah...
what of the jihad...
expected... in the chinese...
where is the ummah to be
summed to salvage...
and save the...
frolic over...
the detail... in hair...
when hair is being shipped
away to "elsewhere"...
for ****-holes awaiting...
xinjiang... hair from...
would be... hibernating bear farts...
the jihad! the jihad!
i'm guessing the arab elites
are in on the "gimmick" with
the choke ***** men...
because... jihad only behaves
like a jihad on former
cursader territory...
south of france...
herr tao is somehow immune...
calls for being debility funny...
calls for...
bonfires of the turban of the sikhs...
orientating...
the house of gondor with
the house of rohan...
we'z needz 'air!
atypical confused jihadi saladin would-be...
we must all thank...
vielen dank zu gott!
but i still wait...
for the jihad to save the... project islam inc.
of the ummah...
sloth-riddles of the islamic project...
clearly they want to stamp on
the face of a man beaten down by...
a non-resurrected christianity...
too scared to face off with...
chinese atheism...
*****-soldiers... where the ummah
where the... oh... wait...
the bangladeshi being paid
in "reperations" having
a chance to relieve themselves
with a game of cricket...
i'd sooner send... the locust
to abu dhabi than allow a foot
of mine to set...
on a worse idea beside the already
ailing reality of venice...
once upon a time...
was the fortune of settling on the basin
of the river...
all that oil must have shot those
arabs to the head...
the egyptians started screaming
at the camel-jockeys:
you never listened to the sand-*******...
did you?
all that black gold in one's pocket...
all that... yacht ambition...
all that and that...
all that frivolity... prized pride of
the... ahem... "ummah"...
looks like the chinese muslims are
forever and the will of the dubai classics...
fern fusions readied for...
the wigs!
****** readied they are...
some mongols would dear strap a horse
to their grave than excavate a hair plough
from...
eh... slaving prior to genocide...
it's like... they are... "allies"...
it's a genocide mingling
with a joke... of slavery...
but the slaves did work that...
oh no... the germans didn't trust...
the hebrews with anything...
they performed genocide like a "failure"...
or rather a joke...
ask the serbs...
ask someone in rwanda...
you never perform a genocide...
by way of... imitating slavery...
by... stalling... by making people perform
menial tasks...
hello horror...
hello the sleeping ummah of islam...
to outright **** a people...
you wouldn't want them...
being teased...
a god teasing and his precursor for
having a 2000 year old wait
to establish: re- ishrael...
the outliers of rome...
alaos pagan... converted to
the judeo-greco project of: three rotten teeth...
"toxic masculinity"... problem?
not enough of it is going around...
enough for it to be shared...
likewise...
my retreating toward...
japanese insinuation ****...
gravure idols...
hell... absolute "toxic femininity"...
porcelain white girls...
all... lemon *******... peanuts dead...
while their... glob-trotting...
glutton sized up 66s...
have forgotten the concept of:
insinuation ****...
foreplay...
all readied for...
extract ******* woman...
****... bred for... **** like a piston...
****** readied...
blah "blah"...
it doesn't translate... plain jane...
the sort of toxic you seek...
in man... revels in a deity lady madonna...
i **** myself over all second come...
blessings! blessings they calls them...
yeah... the best dates i've ever had...
concerning the "middle path"
of buddha is bound to the clarity
of a transation in a brothel...
so much for a justified jihad in xinjiang
to... save the people of the ummah...
pseudo malcom X consricpt... 0...
negation... not going to happen...
japanese porcelein ****...
but they'll wait for the hyprocrisy...
they'll come for the arabs first...
when they finally engineer a man...
that will be better than all
the supposed doping advances of western man
allowed...
i'm starting to like *******
from the perspective of a japanese hard-on...
insinuation...
i'm less the ****** and i'm more...
about to sniff a stinking dog's bowl
of processed meat of a ****'s oyster behalf...
i like that...
less *****... more hard-on...
n'ah... i never did buy into the whole:
sorry loser ******* in amsterdam
cinema sessions...
i liked... the tease of a tier...
more imaginative... more human...
than... a tease of a harem via a niqab...
so... no jihad come xinjiang?
should we suppose the mongols also invested
in a conversion and it wasn't the grand
imitation buddha kahn?
the wrath subsided: god was proven...
time for meditation...
what's a jihad...
when you could entertain...
the... tsunami of the horde of...
the fall of angels.... fully-workable replica
metaphor...
what's the ****-poor islam "spread"
by comparison?
no real ummah then...
unless...
that's diesel of a lamborghini burning
rubber on a tarmac in knightsbirdge
for a faking 'ard on...
two days from now...
i'll be passing through germany...
i'll be retiring 2 weeks to that land
of paradoxes that's my land of birth...
the aristocratic democracy brothel
of crown and... *******...
foreign hands foreign lands...
all the ready to retreat into their habsburg cul de sacs
of prior to: asserted powers...
no... there's just that...
"we" forgot a healthy ground for
doubt... the plethora of emotion...
the rollercoaster of it...
there's just now... the yoyo-denial cringe
lobotomy...
the best best cringe...
slav soviet communist...
Teddy! Teddy! sell 'em spleen
and iron grips!
no good Warsaw Tadeusz!
Beijin new bwest fwend!
t-eee-sted...
new zealand: tee-st...
not station: tested... but...
t-eee-sted **** the rats and retards...
the philonthropes...
because...
the noise made by bwah bwah...
the misathrope...
it's like an accent from...
that last best reserved concept
of growing figs... otherwise a...
goof-ball and course for ralph...
now for the self-congratulatory letter
of championing the dodo project:
well thank **** for not solving this brain-drain
spaghetti puzzle and not exactly buying into
the d.n.a. project ugly pass...
with all that..... bewildering...
"consciousness" debate...
michael myers' "consciousness" debate...
one... 'em... those sudoku nuggets
of... "sober"?!
best resolved...
i drink alcohol to keep calm...
after i forgot to... take my ****** pills...
my... i came late to the party...
21 was illegal to smoke marijuana...
amitriptyline... 25mg...
how many times do i think
about a slaughterhouse?
i think of all the boys with:
chemical soup for brains aged
16 and under...
i was lucky...
they only got to me aged 21...
i was still allowed to retain
a labyrinth of wording(s) to shelter my anger with...
surprise? what surprise?
toxic masculinity = not enough james bonds
running amok for...
oh... weight... *****-whipping...
there's all that... i forgot what...
period drama this was all about...
drink drink drink...
i'll sooner kick my liver dead than...
allow society to sober my half-wit frankenstein
brain of theirs...
i'll die with:
i don't scare myself with drowning...
i don't scare myself with falling...
flat into a pancake...
i shouldn't be afraid of homelessness...
but i am because...
this avenue of the freely available stars...
and those... made rebel...
that will answer to me...
the butterfly... waiting...
for the most pristine... prized... first...
insecurity of... h'america about to be exported...
and it's a... oh my! a zephyr...
tornado... one of those: flush 'em...
when you 'ave 'em...
sort of... scenarios...
hegel: improtune... the will of the thinking man...
thought is a butterfly...
it's hardly... a well-knitted-marx-beard-and-sweater
of consolidations...
honest to the god i don't believe in...
i'd shadow **** that crucifix if it
had a japanese gravure model hanging on it...
******* as insinuation...
they did catch me...
libido pressed...
aged 21...
they would have got to me aged 16 and prior...
with ****** and former brain:
the chemical soup...
i want to smash **** up... then i remind
myself: wait... and giggle...
the extract... mikhail popkov...
albert fish... fan boy for every:
groupie of history...
is that... like... a somewhat missing:
oops?
CHRISTINE CHUBBUCK...
INCEL...
wouldn't it be... just.. oh so strange...
to... drag a man into a prison cell...
and shoot them... obviously retaining leaving
them there to rot...
andrei chikatilo...
the urban myth of cockroaches
being subjected to the guillotine...
sure... whizz vite boyz aged...
napoleon dynamite... jeffrey dahmer...
16 is the right time to call brainz...
chem. soup...
bubbly...
me comez 21... me's perfecto...
me no cain signature idiot primo...
i like me horror story...
i get to play the... plot line of
the anaesthetic...
who is to be surprised by: who's who...
of anyone's who of...
the currency of... this... surf...
lost... a "somehow"...
a "somewhat"...
oh... this is... for... today?
this has to be...
the advent of the pontius pilate metaphor...
no... not me...
dies ist alles sie:
scheiße! es ist mich?
verwesendtrauben....
kommen, sehen... der welt...
verstopfungselbst.