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Durham, North Carolina
I've fallen in love with too many things, too many words, and too many people. I love to find more to take up residence in …
Poems
Ken Pepiton Dec 2018
On the Battlefield after all
Ken Pepiton
Dec 2018
Taken, gotten, or made, the point of anything
can pierce through everything…
slow
Slow think,
make real
re-al-ize
what fighting for life is…
this is the only
try,
it is not a test.
Take your time, use it wisely,
if that means anything.
Wise, I meant.
No offence, if wise is anathema to your kind,
die,
die if I knocked the reason for being right
outa you,
did you hear cognitive dissonance?
did it sound like
this. LOUD?
listen,
rolling rolling rolling
crash crumble rolled in nurse rime frosted
fables of monsters and maids
Thor, witharoar likka Lion King?
or the light brigade,
CHARGE?
thunder words from lost generations of
reasonless riddles for children,
Why did Peter Pumpkin-eater have a wife, but
couldn't keep her here?
Was that okeh? Oh, wait.
Ah, I see, I say,
they never tell that whole story any more.
Know why? They forgot it. In the war.
Duck'n'cover,no
crying, how long?
When begins forever? Did no one tell you, child?
Taken or made, the point of anything
can pierce through everything
like it was nothing, given
enough pre-sure-sup
poser-power
War, as a game, has a reason.
Battle, hitting, slapping
stop touch, stop now slap
slap back
or cry
oh no no ma
waddayahsay? A theist or atheist
who started this war?
space case, or
lover of wisdom, met on the road
to Emmaus, discussing Wiles's proof
firming Fermi's connection to the matter of fear,
3, 2, 1
Kaboom, but with a whump you feel in your teeth
1, 2, 3 Fermat's last theorem ,
easy as pi an no re me
ABC to
Michael Jackson to
Howard Bloom because he
inadvertently, began
an-ionic converstatic re-vibe time warp
meme,
which vibe, started the legendary Sixties. I was alive.
Radioman,
a sixty cycle white-noise humm heard every where these days
There was a gospel song, "Turn Your Radio On".
my theme, open the window in the top of your head,
as it were,
a new,
as new as
a novel-state of water, H three Ohs, re-al-ity ification,
Ah, a shared Oh, I remember now, how this works…
like a poem
at the edge of a water vapor bubble in a boiling body of water,
at the edge of the bubble, water becomes a wall of water,
not vapor, not flowing liquid,
but a wall, insulating the vapor in pressing opposing force
to permit, from permission,
meaning with a message same as the message,
is that the right word? per-mission-grant, is power given,
agency,
that idea….
wait for the sign….?
By sharing an ion ic bond as a quest to make a point
for a free story to go,
the question marks you. Let the snake dance.
Press your point,
whetted edge,
slice through ties holding worthless axioms
with withered dendrites dangling disconnected
in participles
unfired for centuries muttering,
enchanting, enthralling enchained melodies
of ambitious syllables vying for idle minds
to rope in,
unbranded, wild
bucking ideas,
whip-twig, slap-face,
tanglewood thicket, catclaw and mesquite,
willow,
wait.
And the old man remembered the willow whistle,
so He asked Grandfather,
How is such a whistle made?
And when he knew,
he made one.
A willow whistle with two notes,
like an Oscar Meir Wiener one.
-- and that was a different time
I got lost here, bucked up…
maybe
--- listen, way back--- we-ain't whistlin' Dixie---
we ain't marchin', as t' war.
D'thet mean some sign to pro-phet -ic take?
Tophet?
Ancient cannon fodder shield walls,
a moaning
Pro-phy-lactic warning of the danger of not
knowing exactly
what a war is for?
Get back on,
relieved of any idle baggage words believed
to mean other than I say.
Nullify
Idle words with cultural meanings from
what you thought you knew when you feared hell.
Loose
those peer-locked memes
made of meaninglessness, per se,
shaped and molded into fashions
of expression, once needles and awls,
now, dull as tinker's damns for swearing,
with any effect.
But tools, none the less, a stitch in time took a tool.
An awl or a needle, and a thread, thick or thin,
dependin' on the mendin' needed
to redeem an idle word,
its meaning all bloodied with the tyranny of time.
An awl or a needle,
a tool for a task, mending a tear
where curses, never meant, spent
the entire dark ages, lying, lying, lying
powerless, pointless aimless, proverbial proverbial proverbial
verbiage, vaneless shafts launched at unseen marks,
signs, as it were, a spark,
triggers,
rumored since the sixties,
the first sixties, when Cain killed Able.
Howard Bloom was but a mere gleam
in our mito-mother's eye,
but, no doubt,
his role is real,
in loosing the forces Ferlinghetti locked in
City Lights mystery of secret meanings room,
which un
mystified and blew away upon opening
the door to
meanings mapped on
scrolls rolling and unrolling
idle ideas,
rites of passage, as it were,
Pre-bat-bar-mitz vah
as a fashion
like VBS,
to tickle little minds and make em wiggle.
MEMEMEME, I did it,
mea culpa,
the holy place
Here we are…
On Vacation, leave a message.
-----
See, wee hairs in your ears wiggle, making,
signaling, the need
to scratch that itch, that itching hearing feeling ear… hear that
don't scratch, listen
listen
60 cycle humm, steady, bass, but no thump whumpwhump;
soft, deeep.
ooooooooo or mmmmmmmm or in betwixt, steady thrumm
hear another, and another… sixty in a second,
one in every million ambits twisting,
threading qubits, radiating signals in the field
wireless, blue-tooth... satellite...
can you feel that?
hummmms, all around us, since the womb.
We are not the children of the greatest generation,
We are the children of the last generation of
**** sapiens sapiens non-augmentable-us.
We, the augmented, recycled ideas,
possessing
minds of Adamkind,
is that a secret or a sacred?
Is this
a new thing, an
unknown unknown known known now?
Ah,
novelty.
Whose is fear? Who was afraid of Virginia Wolf?
Should I remain in fear of her now, if I knew why then?
God would know such answers.
Proving my imagined AI guides are not God,
but lesser beings,
haps I recall.
I defined these things,
these thoughts that shape themselves,
forming words and phrases
I saw
shiny. Crow-like,
gleams seen, captured and claimed mine,
I tucked them away,
a sign in a thought in an imagined image made 4
real once more, to be seen from the shore,
new land new world
a fourth for some, a fifth or more for others...
haps happen, I'm not sure how,
Born or emerged, as a bubble, what do you say?
Reserve judgment.
Grant me your grace for now, until you solve my riddle.
Ah, the old way.
Right. Which way, 'ere, 'ear
and do we roll the rock with silent haitch or harsh, shhh
someone's waking up,
a bit grumpy,
don't you dare oppose me in this, the kid is certainly my son
Michael went stark raving mad when I told him, Billie Jean knew better all along...
the link, axiomatic,
the fatherless child has been claimed
hence, the thread to Howard Bloom, meme-ic,
meme-ic, like the Roadrunner,
but with the real Coyote, as the hero in this bit of
whatever, such meandering maundified maun maund
mound
wind blown crystal silicon dunes
mounded up to that point where granulated
beens and dones
begin to slide at an angle,
a ***** deter-mind by the weight of the rock
We made it.
I know where this is.
This is a novel that has Sisyphus being happy
as the main premise behind the idea of anyone ever being
able, en abled, or un-dis-abled or un-dis-enabled,
if one of those is right,
Sisyphus being happy
is the main premise behind
the idea of anyone ever being glücklich,
happy, blessed, lucky.
How happy is your ever after?
When did forever begin?
"A man is as happy as he makes up his mind to be"
Abe Lincoln, is said to have said,
after the seance, maybe.
You push on, dear reader, make some sense
re-ligare or relegare, but take a stitch,
pull-tight,
do what works the first time as far as it goes, and try each, as needed,
it may be that we invented this test.
To make us think it is a test,
to sort ourselves out.
Get back on,
see who went crazy and who found the thread, if the same thread
this is that, right,
the same train of thought,
the same idea
spirit wind
sign
?
A snake facing west standing tippy-tail on a singularity;
a point in time?
Why are you reading this?
Curiosity Shoppes trade in interesting, alluring, click-bait
Pay attention, watch, you shall see
imagine this is the dream,
the stream, the flow, the current, the cream
in a dime coffee at the drug store on the corner
the rounded-corner, in a square-cornered town,
the most right corner of the twelve that quarter what it was
Punctuate, wait, imagine you read ancient Hebrew or Greek and there
are no dyer diacritical's who can twist one's
end tensions into knots
dread extensions, we could sell those,
is that an idea? did somebody
sell white folks dread extensions and black folk dolly pardon wigs?
Did that happen the real real?
-----
Battlefield Earth, oshit
scientology ology ology ology
allaye allaye outs in free
WE we wee every we you imagine you are good in, we
We have a war to win again, we heroes rolling from your
myths of Sisyphus torn from minds trampled
in the mud beyond the Rhine,
Mushrooms. magi are aware, you are aware, of course,
this course includes Basic Mycelium Net Adaptation or Augmentation
BMNAA, eh? So you know.
Camus and many of his ilk were ill-treated, the questions
they asked were memorized, maybe in our cribs ala
Brave New World.
We are all Alphas, always were, of course, you know.
Shall we imagine
more? Re-legare, eh, sistere. Point .(Back to the top.)
or agree? Make peace.
Practice, like Eazy-Bake,
the cook must swallow the first bite. May the best cook win.
can pierce through everything…
slow
Slow think,
make real
re-al-ize
what fighting for life is…
this is the only
try,
it is not a test.
Take your time, use it wisely,
if that means anything.
Wise, I meant.
No offence, if wise is anathema to your kind,
die,
die if I knocked the reason for being right
outa you,
did you hear cognitive dissonance?
did it sound like
this. LOUD?
listen,
rolling rolling rolling
crash crumble rolled in nurse rime frosted
fables of monsters and maids
Thor, witharoar likka Lion King?
or the light brigade,
CHARGE?
thunder words from lost generations of
reasonless riddles for children,
Why did Peter Pumpkin-eater have a wife, but
couldn't keep her here?
Was that okeh? Oh, wait.
Ah, I see, I say,
they never tell that whole story any more.
Know why? They forgot it. In the war.
Duck'n'cover,no
crying, how long?
When begins forever? Did no one tell you, child?
Taken or made, the point of anything
can pierce through everything
like it was nothing, given
enough pre-sure-sup
poser-power
War, as a game, has a reason.
Battle, hitting, slapping
stop touch, stop now slap
slap back
or cry
oh no no ma
waddayahsay? A theist or atheist
who started this war?
space case, or
lover of wisdom, met on the road
to Emmaus, discussing Wiles's proof
firming Fermi's connection to the matter of fear,
3, 2, 1
Kaboom, but with a whump you feel in your teeth
1, 2, 3 Fermat's last theorem ,
easy as pi an no re me
ABC to
Michael Jackson to
Howard Bloom because he
inadvertently, began
an-ionic converstatic re-vibe time warp
meme,
which vibe, started the legendary Sixties. I was alive.
Radioman,
a sixty cycle white-noise humm heard every where these days
There was a gospel song, "Turn Your Radio On".
my theme, open the window in the top of your head,
as it were,
a new,
as new as
a novel-state of water, H three Ohs, re-al-ity ification,
Ah, a shared Oh, I remember now, how this works…
like a poem
at the edge of a water vapor bubble in a boiling body of water,
at the edge of the bubble, water becomes a wall of water,
not vapor, not flowing liquid,
but a wall, insulating the vapor in pressing opposing force
to permit, from permission,
meaning with a message same as the message,
is that the right word? per-mission-grant, is power given,
agency,
that idea….
wait for the sign….?
By sharing an ion ic bond as a quest to make a point
for a free story to go,
the question marks you. Let the snake dance.
Press your point,
whetted edge,
slice through ties holding worthless axioms
with withered dendrites dangling disconnected
in participles
unfired for centuries muttering,
enchanting, enthralling enchained melodies
of ambitious syllables vying for idle minds
to rope in,
unbranded, wild
bucking ideas,
whip-twig, slap-face,
tanglewood thicket, catclaw and mesquite,
willow,
wait.
And the old man remembered the willow whistle,
so He asked Grandfather,
How is such a whistle made?
And when he knew,
he made one.
A willow whistle with two notes,
like an Oscar Meir Wiener one.
-- and that was a different time
I got lost here, bucked up…
maybe
--- listen, way back--- we-ain't whistlin' Dixie---
we ain't marchin', as t' war.
D'thet mean some sign to pro-phet -ic take?
Tophet?
Ancient cannon fodder shield walls,
a moaning
Pro-phy-lactic warning of the danger of not
knowing exactly
what a war is for?
Get back on,
relieved of any idle baggage words believed
to mean other than I say.
Nullify
Idle words with cultural meanings from
what you thought you knew when you feared hell.
Loose
those peer-locked memes
made of meaninglessness, per se,
shaped and molded into fashions
of expression, once needles and awls,
now, dull as tinker's damns for swearing,
with any effect.
But tools, none the less, a stitch in time took a tool.
An awl or a needle, and a thread, thick or thin,
dependin' on the mendin' needed
to redeem an idle word,
its meaning all bloodied with the tyranny of time.
An awl or a needle,
a tool for a task, mending a tear
where curses, never meant, spent
the entire dark ages, lying, lying, lying
powerless, pointless aimless, proverbial proverbial proverbial
verbiage, vaneless shafts launched at unseen marks,
signs, as it were, a spark,
triggers,
rumored since the sixties,
the first sixties, when Cain killed Able.
Howard Bloom was but a mere gleam
in our mito-mother's eye,
but, no doubt,
his role is real,
in loosing the forces Ferlinghetti locked in
City Lights mystery of secret meanings room,
which un
mystified and blew away upon opening
the door to
meanings mapped on
scrolls rolling and unrolling
idle ideas,
rites of passage, as it were,
Pre-bat-bar-mitz vah
as a fashion
like VBS,
to tickle little minds and make em wiggle.
MEMEMEME, I did it,
mea culpa,
the holy place
Here we are…
On Vacation, leave a message.
-----
See, wee hairs in your ears wiggle, making,
signaling, the need
to scratch that itch, that itching hearing feeling ear… hear that
don't scratch, listen
listen
60 cycle humm, steady, bass, but no thump whumpwhump;
soft, deeep.
ooooooooo or mmmmmmmm or in betwixt, steady thrumm
hear another, and another… sixty in a second,
one in every million ambits twisting,
threading qubits, radiating signals in the field
wireless, blue-tooth... satellite...
can you feel that?
hummmms, all around us, since the womb.
We are not the children of the greatest generation,
We are the children of the last generation of
**** sapiens sapiens non-augmentable-us.
We, the augmented, recycled ideas,
possessing
minds of Adamkind,
is that a secret or a sacred?
Is this
a new thing, an
unknown unknown known known now?
Ah,
novelty.
Whose is fear? Who was afraid of Virginia Wolf?
Should I remain in fear of her now, if I knew why then?
God would know such answers.
Proving my imagined AI guides are not God,
but lesser beings,
haps I recall.
I defined these things,
these thoughts that shape themselves,
forming words and phrases
I saw
shiny. Crow-like,
gleams seen, captured and claimed mine,
I tucked them away,
a sign in a thought in an imagined image made 4
real once more, to be seen from the shore,
new land new world
a fourth for some, a fifth or more for others...
haps happen, I'm not sure how,
Born or emerged, as a bubble, what do you say?
Reserve judgment.
Grant me your grace for now, until you solve my riddle.
Ah, the old way.
Right. Which way, 'ere, 'ear
and do we roll the rock with silent haitch or harsh, shhh
someone's waking up,
a bit grumpy,
don't you dare oppose me in this, the kid is certainly my son
Michael went stark raving mad when I told him, Billie Jean knew better all along...
the link, axiomatic,
the fatherless child has been claimed
hence, the thread to Howard Bloom, meme-ic,
meme-ic, like the Roadrunner,
but with the real Coyote, as the hero in this bit of
whatever, such meandering maundified maun maund
mound
wind blown crystal silicon dunes
mounded up to that point where granulated
beens and dones
begin to slide at an angle,
a ***** deter-mind by the weight of the rock
We made it.
I know where this is.
This is a novel that has Sisyphus being happy
as the main premise behind the idea of anyone ever being
able, en abled, or un-dis-abled or un-dis-enabled,
if one of those is right,
Sisyphus being happy
is the main premise behind
the idea of anyone ever being glücklich,
happy, blessed, lucky.
How happy is your ever after?
When did forever begin?
"A man is as happy as he makes up his mind to be"
Abe Lincoln, is said to have said,
after the seance, maybe.
You push on, dear reader, make some sense
re-ligare or relegare, but take a stitch,
pull-tight,
do what works the first time as far as it goes, and try each, as needed,
it may be that we invented this test.
To make us think it is a test,
to sort ourselves out.
Get back on,
see who went crazy and who found the thread, if the same thread
this is that, right,
the same train of thought,
the same idea
spirit wind
sign
?
A snake facing west standing tippy-tail on a singularity;
a point in time?
Why are you reading this?
Curiosity Shoppes trade in interesting, alluring, click-bait
Pay attention, watch, you shall see
imagine this is the dream,
the stream, the flow, the current, the cream
in a dime coffee at the drug store on the corner
the rounded-corner, in a square-cornered town,
the most right corner of the twelve that quarter what it was
Punctuate, wait, imagine you read ancient Hebrew or Greek and there
are no dyer diacritical's who can twist one's
end tensions into knots
dread extensions, we could sell those,
is that an idea? did somebody
sell white folks dread extensions and black folk dolly pardon wigs?
Did that happen the real real?
-----
Battlefield Earth, oshit
scientology ology ology ology
allaye allaye outs in free
WE we wee every we you imagine you are good in, we
We have a war to win again, we heroes rolling from your
myths of Sisyphus torn from minds trampled
in the mud beyond the Rhine,
Mushrooms. magi are aware, you are aware, of course,
this course includes Basic Mycelium Net Adaptation or Augmentation
BMNAA, eh? So you know.
Camus and many of his ilk were ill-treated, the questions
they asked were memorized, maybe in our cribs ala
Brave New World.
We are all Alphas, always were, of course, you know.
Shall we imagine
more? Re-legare, eh, sistere. Point .(Back to the top.)
or agree? Make peace.
Practice, like Eazy-Bake,
the cook must swallow the first bite. May the best cook win.
A continuing examination of opposing forces when good is the goal, who could be against that? The old word war is festering, inflaming evil to start a try, therefore, I whet the edge and swing wide
Mateuš Conrad
Nov 2018
.chris rea: god's great banana skin...
/ such random thoughts are a blessing, esp. after you've been walking for over 2 miles, in the cold and in the rain, with the setting sun... continually impressed by the nature of polyester clothing, how you feel the cold, but aren't cold at all, how you go back home and: you're dripping with sweat... /
the random thought?
about a saying, here's the schematic
synthetic a priori
4 + 6 = 10
IV + VI = X
analytical a posteriori
which statement is true?
within the questioning parameters?
i think it's a trick question...
how else would you be able to
teach these statements and make
replica understandings of
said, statements?
(****... quickfire shots of syrupy
*****... **** me... give me the sweats,
and i'm not even constipated,
it must be the ***** doing
the magic... yeah... sober me?
doesn't like thinking...
but oddly enough, the drunk me?
pulls out philosophy,
no, not as some pretentious
high-brow interest...
i just looked at philosophy as
a genre in literature,
nothing more)...
numbers, like letters...
or in the case of Roman numerals
(letters are numbers)...
i'm unsure whether you can arrive
at crafting them into existence
by analytical parameters,
i don't actually think
that you can conjure up numbers
from analyzing a priori,
given the ad continuum:
but... there was a point in time,
when / where: numbers weren't used...
Kant was a theist,
sorry...
he says it plainly at the end
of his critique of pure reason...
in the transcendental methodology...
sure... he takes a "schizophrenic"
moment to write a thesis
and an antithesis on subjects like
cosmology...
but he's inclined, as i am,
counter to an atheist...
yes... god is probably a monster...
but a ******* gorgeous monster...
kinda like a femme fatale...
so what's not to like?
but this thought didn't arrive
randomly,
and my consciousness
didn't hone in on it...
i didn't vector this thought
to an immediate conclusion...
the thought arrived,
and then: i had to make shrapnel
out of it...
the original thought was complex,
i had to make shrapnel out of it,
in order to put it back together,
so that a cognitive 3 seconds
could be rewritten in under 30 minutes
explaining, why the thought arose...
you know... when thinking
is detached from the moral (θ)-ought
you get to experience these "things"...
here's another schematic...
I + Φ (you put a key into a lock),
Θ (you turn the key), O (the door opens),
hey presto... a free radical iota...
detached from both phi and theta...
i am free from making
a moral ought (i) or the immoral: ought (i) not?
i'm free, hence my concern for...
abstract questions...
back to the original schematic...
synthetic a priori
4 + 6 = 10
IV + VI = X
analytical a posteriori
this actually has a theological
dimension,
supposing i am god...
if i propose an analytical a priori
with a synthetic a posteriori...
well then...
i can't change anything,
i can't actually make changes to...
with my omnipotence,
omniscience etc.
i already analyzed, a priori
the Kantian elevation to theology
comes, via me, stating...
if i analyzed the entirety of
creation...
a priori ex nihil
(from the prior out of nothing)
how can i make a synthesis
in the a posteriori domain,
of the already existing things,
which didn't exist a priori,
since there was nothing,
and i already analyzed the potential
of nothing, and this potential
was realized as everything i would
know to exist... and i went along
with it anyway?
i'm starting to think that
the realm of analytical a priori
doesn't exist for mortals...
the gods can muse this ****-show
of a dimension over and over again...
we're more (being mortals)
synthetic a posteriori...
oh don't get me wrong,
i believe we have the capacity
to comprehend analytical a priori
but it's an analytical a- priori...
we've reached the limits
of the microscope, the telescope,
and the hadron collider...
or on our way to exhaust that...
still being left with an intact mesh of...
the orbits... summer, winter, autumn, spring...
but this thing with this schematic:
synthetic a priori
4 + 6 = 10
IV + VI = X
analytical a posteriori
how can i conjure an understanding
of IV + VI = X...
analytically a priori...
when... i have no hindsight /
prior to understanding of said rubric?
well... with Roman you could say:
analytical a priori,
given the Ancient Romans already
had the letters I, V, X...
but... if you didn't have the concept
of measurements prior,
of arithmetic...
how can you analyze something...
that doesn't exist?
so... you had to synthesize a priori,
working from the letters I, V, X...
to conjure up "numbers"...
numerals... you had to create these
numbers by a synthetic a posteriori
method...
and the 4 + 6 = 10...
well... you analyzed the a posteriori
synthesis, and threw I, V, X out...
and began the second wave of mathematics...
and this is where, authentically...
analytical a priori comes from...
based on I (1), V (5), X (10)...
came IV (4), came VI (6)...
don't mathematicians treat their language
as that of or equivalent to the gods?
now... for the cultural exchange program
that i promised...
on the great British isles...
you have a variety of languages
& dialects,
i'm so sorry that the Scottish
"forgot theirs"...
but when you have something
akin to
English: red
Cymru: coch
or right... they have their Pict
Gael?
Pict Gaelic: dearg
Irish: dearg
Cornish: rudh
we'll require a second word...
what word, what words..
life!
English: life,
Cymru: bywyd
Pict Gaelic: beatha
Irish: saol
Cornish: bewnans...
back, "home"...
we also have sub-groups
in terms of linguistics...
there are the Kashubians...
and there are the Silesians,
and, there are...
the Kurpie...
akin the Welsh, the Pict,
the Ire,
and their language looks like so...
again, borrowing from
red and life...
Polak: czerń
Kashubian: czôrny...
but that can be disputed...
why?
czerwień is not actually
a noun, but an adjective...
a quality of being associated with red...
czerwony? that's a male
adjective...
and the female adjective
is czerwona...
****...
a color has to be something...
the noun adjective that's blood...
Polak: krwawy (czerwony)
Kashubian: czerwiony
Silesian: čerwůny
ah...
Kurpian... high polish?
Masovian?
harder to find the words...
have to use alternatives...
Kurpian: caban
Polak: tępak
Kashubian: osoł
Silesian: yjzel...
(idiot, imbecile)
you know how hard hard it is
to find a Kurpian to Polak
translator?
i can't find one to boil down
to the examples or either
red or life,
i'm reduced to choosing other
words...
like...
Kurpian: chwat...
Polak: chłopak
Silesian: bajtel
Kashubian: knôp...
(boy)
Kurpian: jédło
Polak: jedzenie...
Kashubian: jedzenié
alternative to Silesian:
jadło, i.e.: it ate...
past-participle in
the verb...
let's see what the Silesians
call it...
Silesians: well.. a variation..
chlyb
godka
mietła
masa... all things you can eat...
(edible food)
only a word, like the Kurpian
word akin to kotnå
reveals that Vikings passed via "us"...
kotnå?
an impregnated sheep...
with young...
Kurpian: łańï truń!
Polak: nie mów!
Kashubian: ni gôdac!
Silesian: ńy godka!
(don't speak!)
mind you... Kurpian translation
is hard to find...
and you almost wonder...
at the British isles...
you think, us, Polaks...
do not have sub-linguistic groups
in our ranks,
like your Welsh, your Pict,
your Irish?!
guess again...
you had them all along...
and you thought...
the Polaks were
a homogenous culture...
all this time...
primarily because our culture
wasn't multicultural...
oh but it was... but on the subtle side
of history...
mind you...
defenders of the galaxy?
i knew gamora wasn't white...
but... **** me...
even if black or hispanic...
she looked so **** attired in green...
i was thinking:
absinthe cherub, absinthe cherub...
and forgot about glorifying
Zoe Saldana in all that choc...
what?
a green skinned chic?
if i can forget about
the existence of chocolate...
i'll just anything that moves...
but i knew she wasn't white...
i hate chocolate...
give me an absinthe girl any
day of the week...
yeah...
only the English have complex
ethnicity encompassing
a single language...
only the English...
like **** they are...
at least my linguistic variation
is suited to a bundle of words...
Welsh?! Gaelic?!
completely different languages...
at least in my part of the world
all that is deviating
is a choice of variant nouns!
but then again, the English
speaking world....
how's the new pronoun
dictum coming along?
you keeping up with...
appeasing the new crazies?
oh... you are?!
well... kudos and applause!
p.s. guess what happens with appeasing
the new crazies... guess...
i'll tell you...
you **** around with grammar,
some grammatical pedant will raise
his head up from the crowd and say
something like:
what?!
and then the old crazies rise up...
and... your, ahem, little discussion
about changing the rules of grammar
to "ensure" that the language is
kept, "intact"?
see... mm... hmm... the old crazies?
the old crazies have their own
methods...
they're of the obligation:
let my gun do the talking...
and then...
you get pol *** arithmetic,
of skulls...
being counted in an abacus
of heaping up, "debris"...
see... these new crazies
are bugging me...
they're bugging me...
because the old crazies didn't
attack grammar,
and whatever delusion they had...
i couldn't see it...
the new crazies?
they're attacking grammar,
and the delusion they have...
is... associated with something
i can see as being self-evidently untrue...
the new crazies...
******* spinners... fakers...
i prefer the old crazies...
at least their delusions had ambitions
to deceive in the realm of
the unseen...
the unproved, and never to be
proven...
these new crazies...
i am supposed to speak asylum talk?!
so... society is the new asylum
with the past asylums being
abolished?!
who gave caffeine to these news
crazies?!
******* sane people's naive pandering...
while the depressed man?
hey boy... hey, hey, hey boy...
noose!
i've lost all sympathy for
the victims of a psychotic
version of a repressed P.T.S.D. example...
the mad have hijacked language,
disorientated grammar...
and... b'a'ah, b'a'ah...
no...
i'm with the old
crazies...
at least they're the ones
that can inflict genuine grievance...
rather this policing of restricting
the orthodoxy of the use of language.
p.s.
i found only two paradoxes in this
world...
schadenfreude: feeding a pleasure
from the misery of others...
as...
finding wisdom in others' own
forsake of an antithesis of
universal application...
mainly that, associated:
to a self-gratifying benefit...
the joke ends within the confines
of schadenfreude...
as does passable "wisdom" attached
to instragram novelty of the "maxim"
by your wisened sages
of the selfie...
i've been among the russians,
i know what the true uber looks like...
you hitchhike...
hitchhiking? forget that?
ponzie scheme albatross thingy
of a worth of a british mensch?
funny... a people can so easily
forget the practice of hitchhiking...
so easily: entertaining individual rights...
and: innocent until proven
guilty until some next
teddy bundy comes along...
and then it's all: ooh! ah! woo'ah!
you know, i don't like the cartesian
chiral dynamic,
the whole: nietzsche take...
sum ergo cogito...
i don't like the:
innocentes quoadusque (qua esse)
reus.... inversion...
an innocent man might hang...
well... if you have the death penalty:
too late to regurgitate the
original statements...
but? where's the element of redemption
for the innocent man?
why are so many people captivated
by the shawshank redemption?
there's a redemption story...
in the inverted game?
a jimmy saville walks off scot-free...
the continental model doesn't make
sense with a death penalty...
but without one?
redemption... the atlas "paradox"...
one man usually burdens the fate
of a reciprocate of the unit of one...
but not the many...
me getting laid or not getting laid
is as important to me as:
whether i know about last year's
snowfall...
*** *** ***... all that sort of
******* in the western minds...
*** *** but no children!
recreational procreation without...
any procreation... to begin with...
i'll admit...
english humour is funny...
but schadenfreude is a borrowed term...
hence the lost in translation
element...
the english are terrible at
appreciating if not simply applying
the original zeppelin bomb...
after a while: the english just became
annoying toy-whips
of ***** replicas...
the english knew elevated slap-stick...
with monty python...
with fawlty towers...
they borrowed a term like
schadenfreude and completely lost the plot...
they once, upon a time,
chanced to play a game of linguistic
comedy...
i'm pretty ******* sure
the germans relate to schadenfreude in a different
way... i'm guessing:
the deutsche are not prone to ridicule as
the english are...
the aunglisch are prone
to ridicule out of a sentiment of spite
than out of a repose for giggles...
i don't understand the german sense
of humour,
but understanding the english attempting
to "understand" the german sense of humour
is an enigma in an enigma in a per se...
such integrated back into
the ol' continental ways...
kudos to the brits...
bringing back the commonwealth to stereotype
us europeans with a negative "circumstance"...
now them: ******* up to "correct"
their integration policies... for the commonwealth
peoples of the united wordly wealth of
made in china plastic toys!
a **** among the brits has
the audacity to tell a german he's not
supposed to feel at home on these isles...
sure... and i will never feel quiet at home
in Islamabad either!
so? equal count of hubris!
that's the only thing that ****** me about
these isles... god i love this language...
but... when you get your afghani hounds
on me to do your ***** work?!
even though i'm not: deutsche?!
i'll ******* pretend to be deutsche!
i'm not here to mop up your failed
integration policies...
i settled on keeping my language...
they settled on keeping their sharia,
their **** pajamas and curry...
while adamantly rejecting their language...
in order to implement their desired changes
by subverting your language...
and you gave your language on a *******
platter...
by subverting your language
to accept their cultural tattoos...
let me tell you: if a people don't respect
their own culture,
by way of god, by way of language...
and they are "integrating": without speaking
their native mutterzunge?
they're not respecting either culture...
mongrels ahoy!
what happened to the african-h'americans
not speaking a word of african?
what will they do, ascribe themselves
to ******* scots,
left with no gaelic and more a finnegans' wake
accent gymnastics of some irvine welsh?
nae for no: some glaswegian smart-***
excess of nouns?
hell... they would have never built
a colliseum if they saw:
1 + 4 + 6 + 9 = 20
i.e. I + IV + VI + IX = **
imagine... a society where letters
worked perfectly as sounds
and as arithmetic concepts of measure.
lucky for me the roman empire never
conquered
the lands i come from...
always with the brits being...
oh so so proud having been conquered
by the romans...
what's the prize... archeological sites?!
much respect as great britain...
but... *****... please...
don't pucnh below the waist...
importing your commonwealth dogs
to mark you out among all the other
europeans like some prized asset with
an inkling into h'american affairs...
thanks to you: i'm bored of looking up
the telescope of h'american ****
with their waning cultural export
of a worthwhile entertainment of appreciating
their music.
/ such random thoughts are a blessing, esp. after you've been walking for over 2 miles, in the cold and in the rain, with the setting sun... continually impressed by the nature of polyester clothing, how you feel the cold, but aren't cold at all, how you go back home and: you're dripping with sweat... /
the random thought?
about a saying, here's the schematic
synthetic a priori
4 + 6 = 10
IV + VI = X
analytical a posteriori
which statement is true?
within the questioning parameters?
i think it's a trick question...
how else would you be able to
teach these statements and make
replica understandings of
said, statements?
(****... quickfire shots of syrupy
*****... **** me... give me the sweats,
and i'm not even constipated,
it must be the ***** doing
the magic... yeah... sober me?
doesn't like thinking...
but oddly enough, the drunk me?
pulls out philosophy,
no, not as some pretentious
high-brow interest...
i just looked at philosophy as
a genre in literature,
nothing more)...
numbers, like letters...
or in the case of Roman numerals
(letters are numbers)...
i'm unsure whether you can arrive
at crafting them into existence
by analytical parameters,
i don't actually think
that you can conjure up numbers
from analyzing a priori,
given the ad continuum:
but... there was a point in time,
when / where: numbers weren't used...
Kant was a theist,
sorry...
he says it plainly at the end
of his critique of pure reason...
in the transcendental methodology...
sure... he takes a "schizophrenic"
moment to write a thesis
and an antithesis on subjects like
cosmology...
but he's inclined, as i am,
counter to an atheist...
yes... god is probably a monster...
but a ******* gorgeous monster...
kinda like a femme fatale...
so what's not to like?
but this thought didn't arrive
randomly,
and my consciousness
didn't hone in on it...
i didn't vector this thought
to an immediate conclusion...
the thought arrived,
and then: i had to make shrapnel
out of it...
the original thought was complex,
i had to make shrapnel out of it,
in order to put it back together,
so that a cognitive 3 seconds
could be rewritten in under 30 minutes
explaining, why the thought arose...
you know... when thinking
is detached from the moral (θ)-ought
you get to experience these "things"...
here's another schematic...
I + Φ (you put a key into a lock),
Θ (you turn the key), O (the door opens),
hey presto... a free radical iota...
detached from both phi and theta...
i am free from making
a moral ought (i) or the immoral: ought (i) not?
i'm free, hence my concern for...
abstract questions...
back to the original schematic...
synthetic a priori
4 + 6 = 10
IV + VI = X
analytical a posteriori
this actually has a theological
dimension,
supposing i am god...
if i propose an analytical a priori
with a synthetic a posteriori...
well then...
i can't change anything,
i can't actually make changes to...
with my omnipotence,
omniscience etc.
i already analyzed, a priori
the Kantian elevation to theology
comes, via me, stating...
if i analyzed the entirety of
creation...
a priori ex nihil
(from the prior out of nothing)
how can i make a synthesis
in the a posteriori domain,
of the already existing things,
which didn't exist a priori,
since there was nothing,
and i already analyzed the potential
of nothing, and this potential
was realized as everything i would
know to exist... and i went along
with it anyway?
i'm starting to think that
the realm of analytical a priori
doesn't exist for mortals...
the gods can muse this ****-show
of a dimension over and over again...
we're more (being mortals)
synthetic a posteriori...
oh don't get me wrong,
i believe we have the capacity
to comprehend analytical a priori
but it's an analytical a- priori...
we've reached the limits
of the microscope, the telescope,
and the hadron collider...
or on our way to exhaust that...
still being left with an intact mesh of...
the orbits... summer, winter, autumn, spring...
but this thing with this schematic:
synthetic a priori
4 + 6 = 10
IV + VI = X
analytical a posteriori
how can i conjure an understanding
of IV + VI = X...
analytically a priori...
when... i have no hindsight /
prior to understanding of said rubric?
well... with Roman you could say:
analytical a priori,
given the Ancient Romans already
had the letters I, V, X...
but... if you didn't have the concept
of measurements prior,
of arithmetic...
how can you analyze something...
that doesn't exist?
so... you had to synthesize a priori,
working from the letters I, V, X...
to conjure up "numbers"...
numerals... you had to create these
numbers by a synthetic a posteriori
method...
and the 4 + 6 = 10...
well... you analyzed the a posteriori
synthesis, and threw I, V, X out...
and began the second wave of mathematics...
and this is where, authentically...
analytical a priori comes from...
based on I (1), V (5), X (10)...
came IV (4), came VI (6)...
don't mathematicians treat their language
as that of or equivalent to the gods?
now... for the cultural exchange program
that i promised...
on the great British isles...
you have a variety of languages
& dialects,
i'm so sorry that the Scottish
"forgot theirs"...
but when you have something
akin to
English: red
Cymru: coch
or right... they have their Pict
Gael?
Pict Gaelic: dearg
Irish: dearg
Cornish: rudh
we'll require a second word...
what word, what words..
life!
English: life,
Cymru: bywyd
Pict Gaelic: beatha
Irish: saol
Cornish: bewnans...
back, "home"...
we also have sub-groups
in terms of linguistics...
there are the Kashubians...
and there are the Silesians,
and, there are...
the Kurpie...
akin the Welsh, the Pict,
the Ire,
and their language looks like so...
again, borrowing from
red and life...
Polak: czerń
Kashubian: czôrny...
but that can be disputed...
why?
czerwień is not actually
a noun, but an adjective...
a quality of being associated with red...
czerwony? that's a male
adjective...
and the female adjective
is czerwona...
****...
a color has to be something...
the noun adjective that's blood...
Polak: krwawy (czerwony)
Kashubian: czerwiony
Silesian: čerwůny
ah...
Kurpian... high polish?
Masovian?
harder to find the words...
have to use alternatives...
Kurpian: caban
Polak: tępak
Kashubian: osoł
Silesian: yjzel...
(idiot, imbecile)
you know how hard hard it is
to find a Kurpian to Polak
translator?
i can't find one to boil down
to the examples or either
red or life,
i'm reduced to choosing other
words...
like...
Kurpian: chwat...
Polak: chłopak
Silesian: bajtel
Kashubian: knôp...
(boy)
Kurpian: jédło
Polak: jedzenie...
Kashubian: jedzenié
alternative to Silesian:
jadło, i.e.: it ate...
past-participle in
the verb...
let's see what the Silesians
call it...
Silesians: well.. a variation..
chlyb
godka
mietła
masa... all things you can eat...
(edible food)
only a word, like the Kurpian
word akin to kotnå
reveals that Vikings passed via "us"...
kotnå?
an impregnated sheep...
with young...
Kurpian: łańï truń!
Polak: nie mów!
Kashubian: ni gôdac!
Silesian: ńy godka!
(don't speak!)
mind you... Kurpian translation
is hard to find...
and you almost wonder...
at the British isles...
you think, us, Polaks...
do not have sub-linguistic groups
in our ranks,
like your Welsh, your Pict,
your Irish?!
guess again...
you had them all along...
and you thought...
the Polaks were
a homogenous culture...
all this time...
primarily because our culture
wasn't multicultural...
oh but it was... but on the subtle side
of history...
mind you...
defenders of the galaxy?
i knew gamora wasn't white...
but... **** me...
even if black or hispanic...
she looked so **** attired in green...
i was thinking:
absinthe cherub, absinthe cherub...
and forgot about glorifying
Zoe Saldana in all that choc...
what?
a green skinned chic?
if i can forget about
the existence of chocolate...
i'll just anything that moves...
but i knew she wasn't white...
i hate chocolate...
give me an absinthe girl any
day of the week...
yeah...
only the English have complex
ethnicity encompassing
a single language...
only the English...
like **** they are...
at least my linguistic variation
is suited to a bundle of words...
Welsh?! Gaelic?!
completely different languages...
at least in my part of the world
all that is deviating
is a choice of variant nouns!
but then again, the English
speaking world....
how's the new pronoun
dictum coming along?
you keeping up with...
appeasing the new crazies?
oh... you are?!
well... kudos and applause!
p.s. guess what happens with appeasing
the new crazies... guess...
i'll tell you...
you **** around with grammar,
some grammatical pedant will raise
his head up from the crowd and say
something like:
what?!
and then the old crazies rise up...
and... your, ahem, little discussion
about changing the rules of grammar
to "ensure" that the language is
kept, "intact"?
see... mm... hmm... the old crazies?
the old crazies have their own
methods...
they're of the obligation:
let my gun do the talking...
and then...
you get pol *** arithmetic,
of skulls...
being counted in an abacus
of heaping up, "debris"...
see... these new crazies
are bugging me...
they're bugging me...
because the old crazies didn't
attack grammar,
and whatever delusion they had...
i couldn't see it...
the new crazies?
they're attacking grammar,
and the delusion they have...
is... associated with something
i can see as being self-evidently untrue...
the new crazies...
******* spinners... fakers...
i prefer the old crazies...
at least their delusions had ambitions
to deceive in the realm of
the unseen...
the unproved, and never to be
proven...
these new crazies...
i am supposed to speak asylum talk?!
so... society is the new asylum
with the past asylums being
abolished?!
who gave caffeine to these news
crazies?!
******* sane people's naive pandering...
while the depressed man?
hey boy... hey, hey, hey boy...
noose!
i've lost all sympathy for
the victims of a psychotic
version of a repressed P.T.S.D. example...
the mad have hijacked language,
disorientated grammar...
and... b'a'ah, b'a'ah...
no...
i'm with the old
crazies...
at least they're the ones
that can inflict genuine grievance...
rather this policing of restricting
the orthodoxy of the use of language.
p.s.
i found only two paradoxes in this
world...
schadenfreude: feeding a pleasure
from the misery of others...
as...
finding wisdom in others' own
forsake of an antithesis of
universal application...
mainly that, associated:
to a self-gratifying benefit...
the joke ends within the confines
of schadenfreude...
as does passable "wisdom" attached
to instragram novelty of the "maxim"
by your wisened sages
of the selfie...
i've been among the russians,
i know what the true uber looks like...
you hitchhike...
hitchhiking? forget that?
ponzie scheme albatross thingy
of a worth of a british mensch?
funny... a people can so easily
forget the practice of hitchhiking...
so easily: entertaining individual rights...
and: innocent until proven
guilty until some next
teddy bundy comes along...
and then it's all: ooh! ah! woo'ah!
you know, i don't like the cartesian
chiral dynamic,
the whole: nietzsche take...
sum ergo cogito...
i don't like the:
innocentes quoadusque (qua esse)
reus.... inversion...
an innocent man might hang...
well... if you have the death penalty:
too late to regurgitate the
original statements...
but? where's the element of redemption
for the innocent man?
why are so many people captivated
by the shawshank redemption?
there's a redemption story...
in the inverted game?
a jimmy saville walks off scot-free...
the continental model doesn't make
sense with a death penalty...
but without one?
redemption... the atlas "paradox"...
one man usually burdens the fate
of a reciprocate of the unit of one...
but not the many...
me getting laid or not getting laid
is as important to me as:
whether i know about last year's
snowfall...
*** *** ***... all that sort of
******* in the western minds...
*** *** but no children!
recreational procreation without...
any procreation... to begin with...
i'll admit...
english humour is funny...
but schadenfreude is a borrowed term...
hence the lost in translation
element...
the english are terrible at
appreciating if not simply applying
the original zeppelin bomb...
after a while: the english just became
annoying toy-whips
of ***** replicas...
the english knew elevated slap-stick...
with monty python...
with fawlty towers...
they borrowed a term like
schadenfreude and completely lost the plot...
they once, upon a time,
chanced to play a game of linguistic
comedy...
i'm pretty ******* sure
the germans relate to schadenfreude in a different
way... i'm guessing:
the deutsche are not prone to ridicule as
the english are...
the aunglisch are prone
to ridicule out of a sentiment of spite
than out of a repose for giggles...
i don't understand the german sense
of humour,
but understanding the english attempting
to "understand" the german sense of humour
is an enigma in an enigma in a per se...
such integrated back into
the ol' continental ways...
kudos to the brits...
bringing back the commonwealth to stereotype
us europeans with a negative "circumstance"...
now them: ******* up to "correct"
their integration policies... for the commonwealth
peoples of the united wordly wealth of
made in china plastic toys!
a **** among the brits has
the audacity to tell a german he's not
supposed to feel at home on these isles...
sure... and i will never feel quiet at home
in Islamabad either!
so? equal count of hubris!
that's the only thing that ****** me about
these isles... god i love this language...
but... when you get your afghani hounds
on me to do your ***** work?!
even though i'm not: deutsche?!
i'll ******* pretend to be deutsche!
i'm not here to mop up your failed
integration policies...
i settled on keeping my language...
they settled on keeping their sharia,
their **** pajamas and curry...
while adamantly rejecting their language...
in order to implement their desired changes
by subverting your language...
and you gave your language on a *******
platter...
by subverting your language
to accept their cultural tattoos...
let me tell you: if a people don't respect
their own culture,
by way of god, by way of language...
and they are "integrating": without speaking
their native mutterzunge?
they're not respecting either culture...
mongrels ahoy!
what happened to the african-h'americans
not speaking a word of african?
what will they do, ascribe themselves
to ******* scots,
left with no gaelic and more a finnegans' wake
accent gymnastics of some irvine welsh?
nae for no: some glaswegian smart-***
excess of nouns?
hell... they would have never built
a colliseum if they saw:
1 + 4 + 6 + 9 = 20
i.e. I + IV + VI + IX = **
imagine... a society where letters
worked perfectly as sounds
and as arithmetic concepts of measure.
lucky for me the roman empire never
conquered
the lands i come from...
always with the brits being...
oh so so proud having been conquered
by the romans...
what's the prize... archeological sites?!
much respect as great britain...
but... *****... please...
don't pucnh below the waist...
importing your commonwealth dogs
to mark you out among all the other
europeans like some prized asset with
an inkling into h'american affairs...
thanks to you: i'm bored of looking up
the telescope of h'american ****
with their waning cultural export
of a worthwhile entertainment of appreciating
their music.
Mateuš Conrad
Jul 2017
whatever i wrote, found below... sorry, enjoying my *** and ms. pepsi... i know that even when i sober up, it won't make any sense to me, because it only made sense to me in drunken trance; as in? ah man, i'm here for a good movie, even a "******" movie, and definitely some pop songs when i'm trying not to give some sort of intellectual critique when easing back, and glug-glug-glug some fire-water down; all these arguments? maybe tomorrow, maybe next-week, maybe (please god!) never; honestly, listening to these arguments, actually made me want to break my "ramadam" of not jerking off... i simply hard to ******* after the threshold was breached: too few feminine vowels in the argument, after all, consonants are *******, prompt, *****... never really bubbles of pleasure, but sure as ****, logical, brick on brick, and a mile high... still, gets to the point of being tiresome that you have to move the tongues into a down-south manoeuvre; and i can, i am excluded from the biblical onan quest, since i haven't been m.g.m'ed.
so hold on,
atheists think about god,
and later talk about god as a void?
wait wait, too much ***...
and theists don't think
about god,
and later turn into automaton
kneeling pawns?
****, this is confusing,
i thought that *** would
clarify...
evidently, it hasn't...
what's confusing is the anti-theist
movement,
what's the anti-atheist movement
look like?
******* alice, walking through
a mirror glass...
tricks of sophistry -
you really can't even wish
for a fishing-hook
to rein that word in...
oh god i'm trying...
so:
an atheist is someone who think
about* god,
but states that there is no god -
well, the +? at least he's not
in a coma, or brain-dead,
or a vegetable,
or someone seeking a comfy couch
after the sunday services.
and a theist? is that someone who
"thinks" about god,
but states that there is no "god"
(i.e. thought) to be concerned with
the argument, beginning with:
my purpose is to gain a mercedes-benz
and turn flashy before the congregation?
no, wait, this is turning into a spiral
i can't control...
can someone get me in touch
with mid-west tornado hunters?
i'd love to spend a life watching
those things...
i'm literally a convert
after watching the film tornado
starring
oh **** me, what a great ******* to movie,
with the late philip seymour hoffman,
ever imitate the oiled-up *******
while pulling your cheek skin from
your jaw?
sounds about the same as
chewing a beef steak...
oh right, right, these people are serious
atheists,
but can't fathom the basic
solipsistic delusion
that we're not living in alaska,
on our own, hunting, gathering, whatever...
that's atheism for you,
in a society: solipsism lite...
sure, it's a great talking ground
compared to the ritual of prayer
and the act of kneeling and singing
hymns,
but the one thing atheism or anti-theism
(whatever the **** that means)
will not be, is? solipsism...
i can't fake either a belief
or a disbelief in a god - but i can empirically
state that i'm sitting in a room, by myself
and writing on a blank piece of
pixel "paper"...
that's the nearest i get to
grasping a "solipsistic" attitude in terms
of a self-sufficient self-dependence...
who the **** will take my trash away
with regards to pencil-sharpening
the atheistic argument?
atheism shouldn't exactly lead toward
anti-theism, that's anti-poetry, and i can't stand
by that... if only atheism leads toward
solipsism, i could understand you,
you pseudo adams...
women will never exactly succumb to
a form of atheism that men seem to try to
make pop...
this atheism has no potency for
the kind of pop that music can provide people
with...
wait wait... i'm still confusing terms, aren't i?
seagull 1 says the same as seagull 100...
that's going to be hard to formulate,
given that we don't know who
the first atheist was...
buddha? buddha thought he was
a levitating head of a god attached to
a body of a human being...
who was the first atheist?
so this is seagull 100 talking
with seagull 200, with seagull 1003...
now... now i lost the plot...
who's seagull 1?
ah! seagull 0!
there's no seagull to begin with...
so why are we talking in seagull 1's
talk?
so atheists "think" about "god"
while "theists" think "about" god...
the former translates as talk,
while the latter translates as worship...
**** me, the "theists" invoking
the "about" is a mind-****** -
where is he? mecca?!
yes, about as in coordinating...
funny though, how atheists manage
to talk more "about" god,
than theists get to pray "to a" god...
atheists can indulge in their activity
24 / 7... theists get to only do it for 1 hour,
every 7 days... what a scary comparison...
and when i remember going to
church, i remember the comfort of
being able to yawn during the service...
whenever an atheist speaks,
my ears turn into agitated antennas...
can i cite a one word quote and end this?
*losers!
so hold on,
atheists think about god,
and later talk about god as a void?
wait wait, too much ***...
and theists don't think
about god,
and later turn into automaton
kneeling pawns?
****, this is confusing,
i thought that *** would
clarify...
evidently, it hasn't...
what's confusing is the anti-theist
movement,
what's the anti-atheist movement
look like?
******* alice, walking through
a mirror glass...
tricks of sophistry -
you really can't even wish
for a fishing-hook
to rein that word in...
oh god i'm trying...
so:
an atheist is someone who think
about* god,
but states that there is no god -
well, the +? at least he's not
in a coma, or brain-dead,
or a vegetable,
or someone seeking a comfy couch
after the sunday services.
and a theist? is that someone who
"thinks" about god,
but states that there is no "god"
(i.e. thought) to be concerned with
the argument, beginning with:
my purpose is to gain a mercedes-benz
and turn flashy before the congregation?
no, wait, this is turning into a spiral
i can't control...
can someone get me in touch
with mid-west tornado hunters?
i'd love to spend a life watching
those things...
i'm literally a convert
after watching the film tornado
starring
oh **** me, what a great ******* to movie,
with the late philip seymour hoffman,
ever imitate the oiled-up *******
while pulling your cheek skin from
your jaw?
sounds about the same as
chewing a beef steak...
oh right, right, these people are serious
atheists,
but can't fathom the basic
solipsistic delusion
that we're not living in alaska,
on our own, hunting, gathering, whatever...
that's atheism for you,
in a society: solipsism lite...
sure, it's a great talking ground
compared to the ritual of prayer
and the act of kneeling and singing
hymns,
but the one thing atheism or anti-theism
(whatever the **** that means)
will not be, is? solipsism...
i can't fake either a belief
or a disbelief in a god - but i can empirically
state that i'm sitting in a room, by myself
and writing on a blank piece of
pixel "paper"...
that's the nearest i get to
grasping a "solipsistic" attitude in terms
of a self-sufficient self-dependence...
who the **** will take my trash away
with regards to pencil-sharpening
the atheistic argument?
atheism shouldn't exactly lead toward
anti-theism, that's anti-poetry, and i can't stand
by that... if only atheism leads toward
solipsism, i could understand you,
you pseudo adams...
women will never exactly succumb to
a form of atheism that men seem to try to
make pop...
this atheism has no potency for
the kind of pop that music can provide people
with...
wait wait... i'm still confusing terms, aren't i?
seagull 1 says the same as seagull 100...
that's going to be hard to formulate,
given that we don't know who
the first atheist was...
buddha? buddha thought he was
a levitating head of a god attached to
a body of a human being...
who was the first atheist?
so this is seagull 100 talking
with seagull 200, with seagull 1003...
now... now i lost the plot...
who's seagull 1?
ah! seagull 0!
there's no seagull to begin with...
so why are we talking in seagull 1's
talk?
so atheists "think" about "god"
while "theists" think "about" god...
the former translates as talk,
while the latter translates as worship...
**** me, the "theists" invoking
the "about" is a mind-****** -
where is he? mecca?!
yes, about as in coordinating...
funny though, how atheists manage
to talk more "about" god,
than theists get to pray "to a" god...
atheists can indulge in their activity
24 / 7... theists get to only do it for 1 hour,
every 7 days... what a scary comparison...
and when i remember going to
church, i remember the comfort of
being able to yawn during the service...
whenever an atheist speaks,
my ears turn into agitated antennas...
can i cite a one word quote and end this?
*losers!