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Mateuš Conrad Sep 2018
i never thought this would happen,
but i'm thinking about
expanding the categories of
a thesaurus -
i.e. moving outside of a mere antonym /
synonym dynamic...
     i'm looking into a shared synonym-
misnomer dynamic -
basically looking for a stone to sharpen
a knife on...
   antonyms are clear enough:
good, evil,
           black, white...
    but i "fear" that synonym usage is
huddling together with synonym abuse:
in the form of misnomers...
    sure as **** there's a thick black line
running through all of this;
   so why are men deemed purely
visual creatures?
     i'm a man, but i'm not a visual creature,
some ****** oddity it would seem...
and now...
   the concept of the nomen in nomine
of ha shem has nothing to do with religion...
sure... it's a Jewish concept...
but this is not a religious concern
for gesticulation in repetition...
   not the sort of blow-job
   before the wailing wall standing up...
moving like some silly chess-pawn:
moved by the wind of the intellect...
    i'm serious in god, i just needed
the Latin geometry of the name - within
the name...
    hence?    nomen in nomine...
ha shem is the name...
          within it is the name YHWH...
oh **** yeah, i left Jesus on the cross on
Golgotha... dry ******* the stump
of wood carved to encompass a torture
instrument...
             it was a said affair...
   when i heard Aramaic in the cinema
watching Mel Gibson's passion?
  i wept from beginning to end...
    no... really: i wept throughout the movie...
i'm a sucker for ancient tongues
and atmospheric music...
   esp. the music:
  i even bought the ******* score...
            i guess i'm not a man for being
the anti-thesis of core visual interests...
   skeletons, and sounds...
if only ******* could discover radio...
i'd ******* to the sound of a woman
moaning...
   while looking at something far
more grander than
      a naked body which degrades
me to a status of a butcher dealing with
raw meat, power liver, chicken hearts,
you name...
   i'd prefer a "seance" listening to
a women during ***... while watching...
  say...
        a j. m. w. turner's
burning of the houses of lords and commons...
but more importantly:
either
         Diego Velázquez's toilet of venus
or that Agnolo Bronzino masterpiece...
i'm not a visual creature, as a man,
i'm primarily surrounding myself
by sounds...
     whenever i gave a woman an ******
i never trusted her...
  i was in perpetual doubt...
always with peering eyes,
i was looking at expressions of
authenticity...
             i guess a man can't lie when
drinking, as a woman can't lie during ***...
hence i concentrated on the Jewish
tradition...
   concerning myself on
the nomen in nomine
            i.e. YHWH in HA SHEM...
i don't need a vision of god to go any further,
should any further be necessary...
which it isn't...
        but it's out of no religious fervor -
just a... linguistic curiosity,
exclusively bound to the English language...
exclusively:
  which could be deemed "strange",
but it isn't, that it came to the attention
of a ****** hunting down the Jews...
who are, currently, primarily in highest
concentrate, within the Anglo-sphere...
when something is glaring back at you:
with charcoal black eyes ready to become
alighted...
   you can't miss it...
next time i walk into a Catholic church...
it will be to reinvigorate the medieval
tradition of having a castrato choir...
   with some random priest to begin with.
Andrew T Hannah Apr 2014
Praeludium in via ...

Vidi heri mane quando ridebam coloribus egregiis,
Eradere auro , trans tabula caeli , tentorium ...
Excelsus super omnes montes mundi mole fratres
Nimborum desertum , ubi non sit humana exsuscitatur .
Et non vidi nobili altitudo futura ...
Bonitas terribilis Vidi , *** indomitus.
Et peregrinare in ea carne existimarem Semel tamen divina ,
Nunc datum est scire , et non confundamur ab eo opus .
Ambulavitque *** Deo, quod nunc facio , et passus est ... accentus
Proditio amor et passionibus , quamvis non recipiat ecclesia ,
Divinitatis naturam , ne occulta omnia confitentur ?
Audis tu solus in universo ab duces ineptum
Ipsos victu pascuntur finguntur mendacii .
Sed ambulavit in vobis, ex ea ipsa mundi redivivi ,
Proelia ante hos annos multos, in carne nostra, amissis vate sacro .
Nos sequi vestigia veterum monumentis, ut ostensum est ;
Quia ex nihilo nati sumus , et adhuc in filiis tuis, ac spatium vivendi ,
Latebunt , quo melius in manifesto , vultus ingenio tegmina.
Ego sum primus , et consilium ... Memini tamen alta urantur
Humanis uti licet , *** aliena michi negotium.
Lorem quid ad ignorantiam et extra ,
Quia vidisti me in tenebris, in ardentem rogum meum .
Si sustinuero , praeire , ubi angeli labuntur ...
Quis autem, si non satis est dedicata piget.
Irrisorie , quoniam ego scio quod salventur , et saepe etiam ,
Post tantum est **** , et sic esset forma in re firmatam ?
Imago Dei , huc ad nos omnes in sanguine ipsius ,
A primis ad ultima, ut alpha et omega, gladius acutus .

Prologus : ( Os meum labitur )

Puer fui servus ad aras tam sacras ,
Hymnis immaculatorum : et absque iniquitate .
Quod *** ipse portabat diadema thons nudus ...
Expositum Spiritus meus, qui intellexi gravitatem.
Quis credit sanctum profanae habitu virtutum
Et illi qui in eo sunt ut carnifices ovis ad occisionem ,
Innocentes cogit induere larvis ad porcellana et operuerunt capita sua ,
Et filii eorum diriperent pueritia , vinctus catenis rudis .
Sicut teenager : ambulans in naturis hominum omnium adprobante ,
Et egressus est a me omnes, qui violatores extiterunt in coinquinatione verebatur .
Angelo fidem reperto cecidi inveni sanctitati
Nomen meum in ea , et curet abluitur dubium inveni .
Venit ad nuptias, et omnes dedi uxorem proditione ,
In solutione huius coniunctionis nostrae et sine intervallo in solitudinem imposuit ?
Traiectus mortalis caro mea reliquit me solum in sanguinem ,
Cor ejus scissum est , absque omni cultu ex ordine funem .
Angelus autem meus et leniat iras mansit dolori
Mea lux, in vigiliis, in nigrum, quod est victa ,
Admonens quia carnis mortalitate ... maxime
Angelus vult me et tremor et durum accepimus.
Et ego factus sum quam ... traumas vitae ac lacrimis
Et dimisit , in specie quae sunt post , veluti a me plagas .
Nox deinde calor intensior saunas percipimus ...
Sicut est mihi in choro , relictum est , nisi ab illo esse extensum ,
Et invicem tradent , et mortalem , ut impunita essent, sed numquam mihi ...
Non tradent ; effundam spiritum meum , et non totum .
FYLACTERIUM creare ex omni me , et oculus innocens ...
Quod amari posco sum ​​ut carbo margarita alba et nigra ;

Section I : Sacrificium Doll

Part I : ( litus sanguinem )

Ne revoces me pupa enim priscis recesserunt cavernam
Sunt inanima appetant , non realis forma in utero ;
A puero bibere rubeam ore exploratores in vastissimam taberna ...
Dum nati psallens FARRATUS agros effusi .
Vadimus ad domum Dei , in plagis , in magna pecunia debetis ...
Hoc non est ad oras Nunc cruore manant strigitu rubra de memoria , polluetur .
Nulla est enim me primus ad ignitionem gloriae ...
Quando autem mens aeterna , in omnibus placentes, causabatur laetitiam .
In stellis ibi verba quae ego volo inauditum revocare,
Quia descendi ita pridem apud venire primum ?
Sollicitus purus fabrica MYSTICUS chaos genitus antiquorum
Mitti expectant limine signa magica.
Interdictum revertatur in carminibus meis , Licinius, ut audacia ,
Quia oblitus est mei fere est: nunc originem , ut tragici.
*** filii bibere, et se abscondunt nati seorsum
*** aquæ in sanguinem, et super triticum, et arefecit fœnum, et humida !
Signum quod venturum est mutare et laboro mentem.
Facies in luna ALLUCINOR in metu torquetur , horror ...
Dumque in fauces manu stare super pectus
Inter ordines diu frumentum umbra nigro ambula
Genus servo meo animas infantium .
Aestas flavescunt, Phoebe caelesti audent .
Mea sola mcestas lupus sonitum audiri potest ,
Et *** feris leo in pontumque moueri relinquere ...
A natura mihi dolet cupio concupivit paradisus reducat .
Vidi terram terror , ut sanguis in sinu
Ater sanguis in terra , quae facit viventia ululare ...
Sicut **** habet stultitia non dicam prava vel !

Part II : ( Crucifixo et Inferorum Animas Excitat)

Nam inertis est gemere pupa altari parato, in sacrificium,
In lapidem calcarium, et in cavernam, ubi sunt wettest fingit arcus !
Un - res sunt, sed etiam *** vivit in vulneribus animae , ut in glaciem ,
In horrore frigoris fictilem , ita *** pedibus non vocavit.
Serpentipedi mucrone subrecto , remittit praecise a pupa in collo ,
Et non potest dici , quia non habet pupa voce clamare.
Puer, et egressus est a tabernam , aspectus eorum quasi a naufragii vile ...
Ut curem hominem a superioribus agentibus , corpus totum mundum.
Infra in concavis locorum asperitate visa petram
Magna voces resonare in tenebras , et vocavit nomen tacuit.
Eripuit animam trahit nauta Multo gregis
Ubi aereum reddet unicuique antiquum signum desideratum .
Et venit ad bibendum aquas illas vitae malis mederi ...
Porcellana , et liberatus a vinculis mortis obscuris sentiat frigore ;
Animas in captivitate , unde nemo mortalium loqui
Sed statim liberavit remotis perforabit clavi ...
Omnis **** , qui dicitur Golgotha ​​, olim in cruce positus .
Omnis autem mulier quoque, ad quod omnes tales sunt tormento
Et facta est , dum consummaretur sacrificium insita primum sic infirma est,
Et intantum ut nisl tot annis perpessi .
Signati post fata diu Quod murus ignis in Terra ,
Stigmatibus ferre posset ita etiam multa futura!
Quod signum erat in manu mea, ut labatur pes meus, et dimittam ...
Tamen adhuc vetera perseverare illusionibus , et non possum excitare multos .
Ego, qui iam tantum conligati Lorem ferrum quid reale,
Factaque est infinita in dolo : Ego sum ​​, et desiderio erat pax.
Nam et ego quod negas , nisi aspera ac rudia mei liberatione ;
Angelus liberavit me , et nunc inter saevus sigillum frangere conantur .

Part III : ( The Return of lux)

Qui a mortuis Surrexit , frigidior , ubi de somno , ultrices in somnis , per
Et obliti sunt intelligentiae invocatum est super sancta miserunt innoxia verba ...
Et inde apud hominem , ut maneat MYSTICUS sequuntur revertamur ,
Ea aetate in inferno commemoratione praeteritorum.
Qui suscitavit eis manum meam , et pugionem eius lumen gloriae,
Relicta meae effercio fluere sanguis subito currere libero.
Ex profundo flamma surgit millennial amisso puella puer ,
Quæ est angeli redivivam sinit luce clarius ostendit .
Et omnis qui non occaecat oculos ad intima ;
Infideles , in momento temporis ponere in obprobrium .
*** stellae ab Diua sacrorum opera voluntatis
Dum coccineum limen transeat , lucem adfert .
Momento enim omnes in caelo et in terris sunt ,
Sicut dies longus tandem inclinatus ante noctem veniat .
In tenebris , claritas multo maiorem et perfectiorem descendit ,
Eorum, qui dum in nomine meo orbata est devium.
Sicut incensum in conspectu angelorum ira animos eorum , occlusum ...
Ferrum IRRETUS texturae talis effugere nequeunt carcerem
Nam quicquid occaecat vidit lucem et scindit
Nisi quia in templis revellens mortalibus irae.
Et , postquam ipsæ fuerint fornicatæ infidelium , ut uoles, petulans ,
Et factum est in excogitando dogma , quod de ratione immemor ?
Horrendum non fides sit , tamen ita fecisse ,
Ante finem exspectent praemia petunt .
*** enim , ut est in paradisum suscipit dereliquerunt ...
Imago autem libertatis quam servitutis et negotio.
Nimia tempus extractam converterat a gladio:
****, ut spectet ad salutem in lucem , caeca lumina sua .

Antiphon alpha :
Quia hoc est ut , barbaris quoque innocentiae gentilitium mendacium vendere ...
Numquid et vos vultis emere , aut aliquam nunc forsitan putas,
Ad sciendum neque rationi consentaneum neque aetate sapientes ...
Quod si non moverent malles *** saltare!
Pleni sunt somnia noctes ; Dies mei tantum ...
Ego ad bis et quem maxime diligebam , in purpura quoque , et aprico occasus .
Ego autem haec imago non ad tangere memoriam tot ,
Qui replet in sanguinem furoris me , et frigidam desiderio finis .
Et considerandum est quod *** in ultima desperatione rerum , in cuius manu mea, equo et pilos in ore gladii ,
Nam ni ita esset, nunquam tamen inde trans familia .
Sed abusus est , ut fuit, et quidem instar caedentes sepem
An ut reliquos omnes transcendunt omnia , amice!
Ego superfui , transfiguravi ascendi in fine est ,
Multo magis quam erat, non plus quam diruere animus .
Sed tamen , quia speravi in solitudinem , ut a somno exsuscitem ancillam meam in flamma ...
Ardet , o superi, ut arbitror , usque uror dissiliunt!
De caelo et magis obscurant vestris, et tridentes, et contritio ,
Audio furorem tympana caelo antiqui gigantes hiemes.
Dii irascantur et ecce valide erutas ,
Uvasque calcantes Angeli hominis Illi autem vinariis ageretur ...
Recordatus sum in omnibus navigantibus battleship galaxies ,
In die ortus nubes inter exaestuans, quod ' vaporem ...
Depopulari Sodomam et Gomorrham, ad contumelias !
Ibi eram: et *** impiis non perire denique gemitu.
Ut illuderet mihi : et populus , quia ego bonus sum male velle ,
A Deo est, quam diu tot mala ferre cogetur .
Ego autem non sum solus , quia multa in eo et detorqueri
Deus remittit, nam adhuc sed non est intellectus ;

Section II : Hostiam de Spider

Part I : ( Rident Primus )

Caelum non egerunt pœnitentiam super ulcus nigrum est furore , et in indignatione, et in iustitia :
Et factus sum caro , quamvis intellectus non mortale .
In antro loca , quæ transivi , et dæmonia multa discurrunt ,
Et locis minus adhuc amor in search of a provocare .
In quo autem in craticiis tectoria atria mea, et thronus fuit stabilis ...
Et super collem , ubi dolorum laborum animae perit labor in mundanis ,
Transcendi vincula et consilio fidelium expectabo laudatur.
Ignis et sulphur et, semper est dextera arderent super altare ?
Ridentem cogo faciem meam : non enim veni , ut velle,
Ut in hora *** iam iuvenem, *** proposito aureum ...
Quæ pro impenso super solidum, pretium quis ,
Qui autem non cognovit , quomodo cupiam sibi solvere ...
Furor solitudinis nascitur ira nascitur ex malitia,
Qui autem contemnunt me , quia sine causa Provocantes me .
Quid est **** , impunitatem , ne quis putaret se excusat ;
Quam sapere , *** culturis tuum: mergi , in balneis , in ardentem .
Loquor de inferno, qui est infidelis nescis ?
Neque enim suis oculis effossis clavorum ...
Loquor cruciatus qui daemonia fecerunt superat .
Primus erit mihi dolor meus *** omnis fera voluntas ut ratio ...
Ut qui me conspui caro quod ambulans ,
Nescis modo larva facies mea , abscondens se.
Attendit ad illa nihil nisi insipientis solis erratur in sonis cantus
Tantum numerus ratus e fratre soror .
Sed in caelestibus quae sine causa nata est incestus est alchemical ?
Habitat in me peccatum occultum compages sǽculo.
Sit mihi vim inter gentes auditus est ABSURDUS musica ...
Spiritus meus qui regit omne simile est genitus.

Part II ( vindicta aurum )

In hortos, in quibus cupiditas sanguis rosaria semina ,
I , in manu eorum , qui esurit Quorum sitit aquam surgit !
In quaerere dilectionis affectum bestiis pavi eget
Quid faciam ut pudeat , habet me non elit .
O **** , quo impune ausu palamque vociferari ,
Quod amor sit ex me credis , et me opus manuum tuarum ,
Ut timidus , et cucurrit ad me latere turba depravari ,
In simulata excellentiam tuam , et ipse te vile animal .
Coniunctio oris linguae quasi telam laqueari
Si fieri potest araneae ; et fugiet a turpis ut octo pedes nidum ...
Et *** jam non calidus humanitatis indignum ,
Cogitans te meliorem quam reliqui descendes !
Ut vitae pretium millies , tibimetipsi .
Creaturam factus sum nocte expectant te aranea heu !
Nolite putare quia ego audirem . utrumque stridens cruris ...
Odium ductor tuus , et equi ejus , et ascensorem ejus .
Et in vestra web Video vos, Quirites immune ungues acuti ,
Ad toxicus venenum , quod oculis non potes, nisi te , octo ...
Ex quo bases Caesios sine timore, et sic primum
Ut dolores tuos comedat vos accendentes ignem caelum ;
Detur paenitentiae venia , quae dicis omnia cogit , ne superare dolores ,
Qui tibi semper, quæ videtur , non est potentia ad non noceat .
Et ascendit ulterius sapere plus pavoris tui ...
Numquam puerile ludibrium ulla facta .
Omnis domus tua dissolutae horologiorum ad socium non est ?
In desertis chaos est gaudium, ut si quod habuerunt.
Surgit in novum ordinem , nemo potest negare chaos genitus locus ,
Dum descendes perdunt, muneribus laesae.

PARS III ( Ultimo Rident)

Et sic videtur quod Angelus se et ante deam
Angelus autem nominis vocare aliquis tenuerit formarum.
Et qui in illis est , maiora sunt, ego saepe ad extraneas ,
Fingunt enim se perfectum , ignorant eorum saevitum ,
Num amor crustacea tam veteri quam in praedam , et mendicum ,
Quod minus quam tuum est , quam sumpsi eaque cibum ...
Est autem tarn coquina sicut clibanus tua vadit et ora
Ipse, ipse est extra te praemium virtutis tuae chores ,
Sicut enim res suo cuidam negotium , qui meretricem ... Lorem ipsum leve,
Putas praemium amaret , et mendicum , falli te .
Quid autem vocatis me alienum **** ... amor est malum , et hoc pudet,
Et similiter anima atque animus , quibus tandem corpus infirmare.
Vides tantum larva ... sub aspectu nisurum
Larva ut me in tenebris tenebris latet .
Circa collum tuum habebis , ut falsae aestimationis pendet a mortuis, et corona ,
Quia sterilis tibi relinquo mundum , Intenta ancillæ.
Consurgitur in excitate de reliquis abire tibi , qui sunt cognati mei
De manibus eorum procul offendant pedes vestri ?
Qui manet in coemeterio quasi mortui
Non tollere incorruptione Nimis tibi dubium .
Hue tacito lachrymis virgines flere ...
Ad mea, et robur , in quo praeda, gregibus rursum super vias hominum ,
Ad eos qui non ineptis metus mutetur ,
Aureus transmutare non magis quam plumbea nocte dies ;
Quod verum est de fine , qui scit ... Alchemist
Magistra rerum artes a me in profundum.
Ágite , quod sum aggressus creatura placet mutare ...
Ut res sunt nostrae demiurgorum lasciva oscula enim calidius ?

Omega Antiphon :
Non est autem in Utopia , non videtur quod ...
Donec ut nosmet ipsos cognoscimus prima quaerimus imaginem .
*** et in sacrificio sui ipsius , a volunt reddi obsequium ...
Qui ad reformandam et divina se , *** Leo renata agnus mitis !
Sicut in Christo, ex parte in qua invocatum est cicatrix, et vulneratus est ...
Sed simplex conversio ad dissimilis vultus nolui .
Memini dolore meo, ut acer et vehemens ...
Donee tantum possum emissus dolor servare sensu caret.
Quomodo potest aedificare paradisum non est, nisi in se mutant ;
Mutare ante mutatum esse non est in medio ; quae est in via .
Qua ad paradisum , et oportet eam, et non deficiunt,
Ne ad caelum, nisi quam nos aedificare illud infernum iniustitiis nos .
Utopia , non ruunt ad genus humanum, nisi a te, tu es qui habitavit ?
Nisi quod est extra omne malum quod in se corrumpunt ,
Manifestum enim est , nisi malum, quod mundatam ab omnibus malis moribus.
Tunc malitia faciatis abstulit senex super pluteo tom .
An non intellegat , quid est salvator ...
*** diceret quod non omne quod simplices filii ingredi
Regnum caelorum , et inde ad delectationem pertinere ...
Et quomodo potes perfrui , si tibi placet , cauillando crudelis ?
*** aurora tempore domini nituntur hominum planeta ...
Numquam imaginandi praecipiet ut discat primum voluntatis.
Non armorum vi , nec inutile mandatum ...
Sed *** modestia , et misericordia ; ergo qui ad cor suum in satietatem,
Gáudii innumerabiles et celebrationibus quae causa ?
Sed animus intendatur dolores peccatum lacus.
Ubi plausus rotundum vt quilibet sensus ?
Modernitatem iocabitur ullum definitum ornare.

Section III : sacrificium sui

Part I : ( hortos perditio )

A ziggurat sublatus est , arenosa in calidum lateres , quos coquetis in igne ...
Septem fabulae in caelum, sicut turris Babel ,
Quod in solitudinem, et in
This is how this poem is meant to be read. In it's original form.
Latin is nothing but the purest form of expression when it comes to language.
mEb  Nov 2010
Matter Annex Spoken
mEb Nov 2010
Vicinit vicinit the gamut go round
Progenies excogitate faster
Ode to no eminent thing
We all morph into matter.

The atramentous inky and blackest dense;
sprints and weaves in and out.
Tenuring twains over head, under toe;
Absconding ways in which we've never known
A paramounted heretic defeat.
Darkness that foliole footprints sooted deep;
Seeping stenches of fowl un-scented reminiscent in attire of the welkin;
Vastly sly making a skullduggery indent.
CR2X let us pseudonym by hex.

"No nomen no nomen for I matter dark"
"Matronymic nix hold's my fine lark"
"Nongermane logics are behind you and left"
"I am not your scientific pet"
Not a test, nix preliminaries"
Matter of all is of all existing quarries"

Spoken gallant and wise
Need not ever a compromise
"Matter dark matter dark it is you we embark!"
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2017
i've heard of women rereading works of fiction, entire books, rereading them up to 3 to 4 times... me? i can only muster the effort for a single reading, and the rest of "rereading" becomes a game of memory; but this "ideal" evaporates, as soon as i pick up a philosophy book, notably? heidegger's ponderings vi, aphorism vii; why? well, to pay a closer attention, to expand on attention, to solve a "puzzle", evidently this is true for both the medium of prose philosophy - yes, i agree, a tedious take on narrative, since these narratives have "characters" that amount to nothing more than nomen in relatio, namely? no notion of playing god, or, to be exact, a puppeteer. no, i agree, the narrative is plague with tedium, but so it samuel beckett's play not i; mind you, there's calm to counter beckett's feminine embodiment of ego-******; titillating as it already is: insinuating phelatio.

and what can a man best do, being scorned,
by an unfortunate short-term relationship,
that might have only lasted for a breadth of
encompassing only two seasons?
   having no knowledge of came about in rural
areas, during winter times, and how
people kept warm? body chess?
it would seem, that the shorter the love affair,
the more memorable it becomes...
     and that's all the more true (universal) -
when there's the topic of a summer fling;
mine? stretched from spring through to summer,
but the thing is: i have no regrets,
in that, as any solipsist might state:
                 i regret losing a part of my self;
didn't you know? i thought people would have
picked it up, that solipsism is the new "atheism",
and to be honest, i like that label... why?
well, it invites the mythology of kinship
of that of *thanatos
& hypnos...
   who do you think can be conjured to share
common thread of thought with a solipsist?
narcissus! hence? narcissus & his brother
    solipssus - as any single child will tell you,
esp. in china: i really wished for a twin...
children of many siblings do not share this
   sentiment, of leveraging on wishing for a twin;
and mind you:
        in the zodiac, taurus is just shy of gemini.
oh, right, this aphorism in ponderings vi...
actually... i don't know if i should verbatim extracts
from it, or just compare it to an atheist talking...
i'm side tracking, because i started thinking
about susanna hoff...
             as any man might, with half a fishing net's
worth of
fiddling-with-a-knitting-competence-worth-of-"wit";
what? a woman's beauty is a welcome distraction,
esp. the 80s... and i don't know why,
but i remember being implanted
the archetypal beauty of a woman dressed in the sun,
i.e. blonde... and, luckily enough, i received
my first kiss when i was 5, 6, or 7...
  can't remember her name,
but i know her surname - kot i.e. cat,
and she had twin sisters younger than her,
her father used to drive a truck...
             and drunk ***** like a skunk.
you know what, since i've entered the rambling
stage of narrative, i will not mention heidegger's
aphorism, i'll just let you buy the **** book
(30 quid a pop second hand,
  good luck)
               i'll just mention an offshoot of a thought
that came from it, being reread several times...
ah! the monotheistic trinity!
  step 1. you do know that in maltese,
   the word for god is, allah?
step 2. there is no more beautiful name
    for god than allah, namely?
   listen to alpha blondy's song sebe allah ye...
step 3. jews are really **** at singing,
    the name of their god reside in the cognitive realm,
and in the cognitive realm alone,
   hence: do not take my name in vain...
step 4. say jesus christ about 40+ times,
             great vanity project...
step 5. i seriously recommend this to you,
  go to a polish catholic mass, in poland,
  and wait for the believers reciting the creed

  p.s. tell me if you see any comparison with
a satanic mass murmur...
step 6. my thought belongs to elohim,
  my singing & esp. drumming to as sami (26) -
  (you ever think the arabs are all too
glottal, in their pronunciation?
   like glug glug: pucker, gug?);
and the "father"?
                  silence,
               and if not silence, then the most
mundane talk... and a respect for even the most
dumbest of possible carpenters,
   and let me tell you, the biggest *******
of them all, surname? griffin... t(h)omas...
hardly a θought in him...
          but hey, he got all the girls,
i got an empty pint glasses, and a shamed walk
home...
  come english... show us yer surd letters!
   what's v'eh θinking behind it all, eh, tomas?
sure it's not θomas?
                             whatever;
it's not like you're going to get another stab at
producing a shakespeare.
¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯
I am but the flower
nigh the wild fox's den
I feel earthen worms
that crawl about
my sultry toes and then

they move the dirt for me
relaxing me
I stand *****
in wait for thee

I watch the *****
nurse her pups
and though she has quenched
my love before
I desire a name and
something more

I so desire the honey bee
without her I feel untended
much unlike the tended progeny
of neighbor mother mending me

though standing guard
I wait for thee
to call my name
and fall on me

to drone a tune
and dance on me
and rob of me
the toil of seed

for a wildflower
by another name
should thenceforth
be deemed
a ****

'til the
nomen
falls atop
mine pate as
favor of the
honeybee.


∘ ⊱‧⌍  ⌈✞⌋  ⌌‧⊰ ∞
﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋
Jon Shierling Jan 2015
I.
Quid Nomen Est?
Thus spake skeleton eyes to we upon the forest path,
the long woe of you and me and we upon that gravel path
with those tired trees baring their naked selves to us
in dead questions all the crooked way.
Lo the **** shall crow thrice indeed on the morrow morn
but for now we who have not yet forgotten
must needs cleave to the bidding at hand,
must make do with cobwebs in our eyes
and the ashes of the Archbishop in our mouths.

II.
"Torches, torches! Have we none, for long
grows the hallowed eve and our task not yet done?"
Indeed no light have we, and our destination lying
still somewhat far off among the ancient oaks.
Haven't forgotten have you, those skittering stories
from bedtimes long ago, warnings to travelers by night
through ragged copse and brooding glen?
Yes, those whispers old of those gone further into
twilight never to be seen again by mortal eyes.
Quid Nomen Est?

III.
Up sprung the pale lights all about us,
yes the torches of those unaging.
"My name, my name, you shall not have it
for given by others to me it was!"
Silence greeted us with open arms and a
light snowfall as we, trembling and withered
continued toward our loathsome errand.
They did not try and delay us nor lead us into sorrow,
merely followed with us unto an open hollow.

IV
There the stones, the faery ring standing older
than the memory of a time when the world
was young and beast and man lived as one.
Not a dead leaf stirring, nor cold wind blowing
as we and our silent companions tread upon the sacred earth.
At last our destination reached, though the journey not yet done.
One thing left to us before the peace of sleep.
No longer cold, no longer withered and old
but become again the man who loved you once.
We lie down together there between the sky and the earth,
with none to bear witness save the standing stones,
the silent torches and always the naked questioning trees.

V*
To the din of Thunder and Battle I awoke,
still within the ring of iron grey stones.
There above the wailing trees the Huntsmen and
Hounds rode reckless, beckoning me as expected
to join the Wild Hunt forever away from Love.
I held up my hand and at once they stormed toward we,
a curse riding forth, fierce and fell till the end of time.
Lo before they caught my upturned hand for me to join forevermore,
I searched one last time for your face among the faery mound,
and found no memory of you in the bones scattered upon the ground.
The Burial of Loves Long Dead
matt nobrains  Aug 2011
no good
matt nobrains Aug 2011
finding streets with names standing bare back against the wind,
trees a spirit of the times step look
;;can fingers//twisted//ebbed//
gross indecencies ab.ate masterful pieces, works,, looks unlike piercing glances
trancing, truncating Euripides a species of deer unlike peace
so, canned fingers
happ
ens
a shame when you consider.
Does this make Sense to you?

"reperio vicus per nomen superstes patesco tergum obviam ventus ,
to meet with village very name survivor of another's death to be laid open back on the way wind,"
no?
good.
more often than not, a knightly surge
     combs a pawn me,
     especially after the stroke of midnight, when
hermetically sealed in my rookery,

     where bats in the belfry
     flap their wings at the speed
     of sound times ten
thence, this king heads to his counting house

     (which doubles asthma
     Perkiomen Valley bishopric)
     to economize on space,
     especially during tax time

     (as April fifteenth slowly approaches,
     me heartbeat doth) quicken
though becalmed, when imbibing
     idyllic, fantastic, and bucolic kingdom

     Americana paintings courtesy, sans nomen
Percevel Rockwell, thus jitteriness pacified,
     particularly speaking
     on the telly phone with Ken
Burns, whose trademark documentaries,

     particularly War between the States,
     where even roosting hen
got into the frayed scrimmage vis a vis, even
chilly being egged on to surrender as Ben

a fit to this American
     Civil War Yankee incarnate,    
whose doodling word
     ya probably don't give a hoot -Amen!
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2019
any idiot can learn to play the guitar...

i've learned to play one...
   a one, a two,
a bumblebee blues...
or...
   eric clapton's
layla (acoustic
version
)...

            mind you...
what is piano playing
envy what isn't
a piano composer...

what is schadenfreude
and what: isn't
neither sympathy
or empathy...

   what is: something
quiet akin to a null
with an object:
being left intact...

schadenfreude:
a joy i will never understand,
ergo: it must be alien
to me...

i'm too paranoid
concerning: कर्म (karma-    -n)...

ah... the red indians
and the blue indians...
mind you...
given the Raj...

   the blue Indians were
conquered...
but...
        they endured...
given the cuisine:
which i find the most
superior of
all the people of
the world...

and: language...
esp. encoding it...
how does
the native american
language look like:
on paper?

i can tell you what
schadenfreude looks like:

ⰞⰀⰄⰅⰐⰗⰓⰅⰖⰄⰅ

   or let's cite:
Armenian...

           փ (ψ): psi

and the Greeks didn't
know of... the northern
peoples, introducing them
to encoding
       Ⱇ and the fork:
    fathom (vom)
                      F'ah-v'-om...

looks like չ (ch'ah) is
nothing more than
    a variant
of Σ... of venus de milo
variety...

    Շադենֆրեօդե...

եվեն
              ի
      ­                     ամ
տրյինգ
                          տo

               եսծապե

                              Րoմե

   (even i am trying
                to escape Rome)...

and doesn't an
Armenian P,
   look "too much" akin
to a willow tree?
                                      Պ ?

how can i, "escape"...
       all i can say is:
a phonetic encoding
like a sieve...
         empty: barren...
     or rather:
the "god of the gaps"
argument...
   receptive to everything
the universe
wishes to filter:
                          of itself...

and then blatantly
disregard for the worth
of some deodorant advert...

forget about
               seeing *******...
i have a needle in
my eye and: IT READS THUS...

       but i'm pretty sure
that the blue indians survived
because:
(a) their cuisine is superior...
(b) they had a complex
system for the encoding
of sounds...
   (c) well...
   a rigid ideology
with a tonne-load of
respected lunatics of
religios gesticulation...

      which makes: monotheism...
so...
      well... less superior in
that: what are these same
lunatics gesticulating
for?

    it's enough to have
one's thought robbed of
something selfish and
orientated around this:

"curiosity",
or rather...
                    nihil a- priori:
i.e.
    nothing without
                               a prior to;
no...
         sigh (ah):
          non-exclaimation
indicator): requiring an:
                                               āh -

which begins to look
     like a variant of sanskrit.

the wriggly and the squiggly
lines of encoded
tongue...

                my eyes:
have been too strained to
easily access:
   this... seemingly mediocre...

i'll admit it though:
for all the riches of
a phonetic encoding,
   and bound to it...
                    shrines of
poverty beside it...

   yet with all the material
gain,
   and the seemingly
            poverty-stricken
phonetic encoding in:
this, Latin...

                   well...
  riches! riches!
                 with an underbelly
of the abomination
via              4U...
         and...
                       correct
pronoun what?
                               can i be
who & dr.?
                         god...
even i dread the whole i-fridge
association with:
    
   which (also a pronoun) -
and...
      who wouldn't want
to escape this... Babylon?

                  well as long as
we're both looking at
    an apple, a donkey,
   a statue...
   and we are all: agreed upon,
concordant...
              which is:
agreed upon
(with an attachment
      of: unison & synchronißed)

pro-             -noun...

     so we're agreed upon:
whatever symbol you use...
or... variety plural...
   mind-numbing gymnastics...
you will be
a bank of nouns, yes?

     you will be a
            pro nomen curiae...

yes: i know there's a tautology
in there somewhere
  (we're all agreed upon:
   concordant)

but a tautology isn't
something false...
   some might claim it's
a variant of emphasis...
   a variation of?

          - but not how ugly
this phonetic encoding
looks like, sometimes,
most of the time:
   in advertisement...

      ադվերտիսեմենտ

आदवएरतईसएमएनट

    or what i like to call:
writing with a flat-liner's pulse:

______

on top...

    yeah... right:
                 आद    AD
                             वएर VER

anything to focus on the:
               ⠉⠁⠛⠑⠙
                             ⠞⠕⠝⠛⠥⠑
Ken Pepiton Apr 2020
2020- day 100

Friday, April 10, 2020
7:16 AM

I mourn the loss, not the death, and find true, the saying,
better it is to go to the house of mourning,
than to frolic in the house of mirth,

only to recall, death comes for us all and after all's been said and done,
we know  some or all or nothing of ever, after that.

Wait and see.

John Prine died, and I, stranger to him
who sang,
to me, -- he did, it seemed --
like a patron saint for mailmen in the future, his future, I was a mail man,
for a decade, or so, in an earlier bubble of knowns.
And I drove trucks, a while, I
even chopped cotton in the days of cassettes powered by D-cells.

John Prine sang for me, alone, sometimes,
I felt, pow, I felt
Heka magic of some
sort mail carriers encountered while touching, handling, ensuring
delivery of hoped for deliverance in the forms
census minded beings
needed in the trailer park to be listed as a citizen of earth,
bound by oaths so old,
stories say only heart and tongue and a heka-of-mind
can tap the power,
to speak a spell
in an amphorical
meta physical box of holy stuff piled high
atop hope,
see,
at the very bottom, see,
that gleem, little spark, right
there.
Hope,
last gift of gods
realized in time to
see the metaphor as a dam on a river,
see the barrel, rolled out in summer joy times,
holding
meaning, un intended, only if magic is anathema, to you

knock out the **** and pour lifeoverflowing over flown by winds,
spirit beings, felt, or heard, nearly never seen,
sing - listen - seek and find

go past the falls,
shh
the seeing ear the hearing eye, Heka formed them both, no lie

Science, known knowns, for sure
say magic never was,
yet certain magi claim they hold certain truth,

which manifests in songs
children can imagine,  hearing haps
change fear to cheer with heka hope the doctor offers with a touch.

Children,
adults claim, magi knew, are watched over by
good and gracious gods intent on
harvest, aware of time,
no offence, but mortality has no post-mortal hope.

Ever lasting ideas, mind matter, songs... sounds of choruses, crowds

of messages, tweets and taps, signals hope once more,

wink at me, Brother Prine, or pay me no never mind, we'll get by

hearing songs you left behind, to teach me how to ignor
what a man can't know,
floaing on a river in timespace
stuck in a barrel of mortal pickles thinkin' the wish away,

shrugging off any sense of being special to God or man,
just a man
with no plan
just living and defining shifting patterns in the sands of time

forming families of likeminded beings in this bubble
where we pluribly live and breathe and have our -singular - being. boing.

--- Anoint that. Tap, tap. t-tic tic tavi e, hookt
--- ask a magi if magic is a tech - a teachible knack. He say he don't know.
--- I know, I axtem all is spelling right same as knowing right? Phe-nomen 'n al?
--- Magi say co-mit,  resolve to evolve.
--- metamortal imaginings are nonsense. Any wakent mortal knows, now is

when things change -- on culturally significant scales, biome wise,

enemas are often overlooked as artificial dia-rhea,

but rhea had an early role. Heka of a story Toth told Solo-mon and we have it,
that same spell,
we have it in our proverbs, our axioms and advertising jingles.

"I want to buy the world a Coke", rising on the team spirit imbued via high
"it's the real thing" team spirit...

go Spartans, -- gird up your *****, kids, if you can't be an athelete be an atheletic supporter.
"us Taryton smoker's, would rather fight, than switch"

Con serve the republic for which the banner stands as an idol of cloth and dye.


school civics lessons in the power of popular thinking, as opposed
to pedantic right... what
ideas, actual spirit things,
souls? being? entities? Heka of Egypt, Logos of Grecia, Wisdom of KJV OT,
Jesus Christ!

Mighty strange, how
why is so often "no reason, the authority wrote it, ours is not to reason why."

-- wait, split-off, chip, off the old cornerstone ... whose cultural heritage
did not include
the Crimean war and all its historical precedents establishing
legislated ligamentation to legends

Here. mere ah, America, silly name, meaning a mapmaker lost in history,
nothing more,
unless some crazy old coot, turns the page, the freaking-out page,

and pauses at a Selah sign, {cross roads in post modern times, adapted Selah,
because STOP was seen as too final.}



and hold
as true, written law, written stone, in effect, fected for effectual ever,

conserve that. -- oh, that is, really

-- conserving the right of conquest with no further quests permitted

-- permit me, we enter the court, here courage forms a courtilage, whence
-- herbs and spices are ground into concoctions of notions {coqueros}

"sometimes,
I take
a great notion,
t'jump in the ocean and drown."

The spirit of truth, the breath of truth, the voice of truth, the word

in
the begging, I was without, and wisdom found me, dying, alone

she kissed me and said, that's okay,

you gonna live to your dying day, and beyond that we go on as words, alone

Lack of knowledge, as with any famine seen from a distance,

say a century -- we assume time is universal,

a century here, a century there,
we forget the faces of our fathers and mothers, yet, not but, yet

still, now, bliebe doch, here, in ever

we stand known.
Perish not, I have overcome the world.
Read, learn.

Find Heka, and with all your finding, find knowing, by going on
into
everlasting words netted in stories survivors told
heartfelt eyewitnesses to total

confusion -- as we imagine with CG in 2020
survivors of that

wrote the first how-to's, or -- timewise truth
told
survivors told the first how-to, in acts, witnessed by test

ifs
if i, err, ifier fast for the sake of my child

I become less mad,
less wild, and my child calls me ma, or mu, or mata or pa or ba

we evolve into otherwise normal beings, bound in dirt,
organized into organic systems,

which re quire. Ac-ac-act know acquire fine qui re fin begin

Wake up, young artist, live as you would live, if hatred were taboo.

In the future, physical war with mortal cessation code hardwired
can't be imagined.

There are unthinkable thoughts in ever, crazy-making, con
fusing one idea to another in a swirl like that song

******, ah, Niko, meet my man,
lyin' devil, intended to topple kings, intented to pretend to tell

Jah'splan to prosper the proud and bring low the other proud sore,

ironic and true, a cainish angel, I suspect, messengers long gone

lieve messages behind,
leave us go let letters free to loose knowns hidden in GANs

gated intellectual nonsense,
swing wide the worldly web and see whose men we catch.

Did I, the truth being told, not say:

I will, you be fishers of men. Mentally, not spirtually, nonono

con sci, pure psi, mere psy ence pre fer ence,

there, fer shure, there's the rub, salt or oil? Heka know, salt the wound.

Hesus say, oil, golden oil, wait for it. Com, com. comfort

settle safe and soft, gentle, easy to be

me,
I am
a long-winded man, given a podium, an actual place to put my foot.

As promised, there
is always a place to put your foot
down

and say, save whatcha may,
but don't bring any lies posing as holy knowing.

This is the riverside, here we cast away fear of death and knowing more
than our honorable, in that they survived the womb
and gave us life, though their own was spent in slavery to lies,

the imagined America manifest us, we the people who hold truth,

self-evident, this is Bucky Fuller's spaceship earth,

shifted in to Jefferson's starship where opposing tyranny is better
than sacrifice.
No riddle, an answer, Obediance is better than sacrifice.

Mercy rejoices against judgement.

Did you never read

Say, those unsung songs, those

never sung ones,
who heard those?

That tree fell in the fo-rest, after living long enough,

to be
of used to form an empty sky, glaring,
light to the shaded eyes of babes
born under the canopy of the mighty,

unbending, now broken
oak, fallen

any child says, yes, there was a lot of sound,
sounds
branches and sticks snapping, cracking
an birds
flapping, but not as much noise as
like dinosaurs walking on legs as thick as trees

if there is a why. probability suggests a way may be imagined.

we exist.
why. Curious thought. Super-positioned past our last

foot hold on how
is this possible-ity of being reasonless in light of joy

as a reason to be.

Lovely thought, curiosity imagined,
what if

osha-ohshit, start over... actual virt vir ual al.

bangs aren't no creative alone

---- superior laryngeal nerve, servant of signal to larynx,

--- voice, vociferous use of spoken words containing certain
--- sounds
--- excellently tuned first thump, first screech

the bleeding machine, some one said, in Legion on Hulu,
I think.

Can I Interrupt with a hulu memory, a movie poster,
on the south side of Hollywood Boulevard,
same side as The Gold Cup,

Don Johnson, pre-Miami Vice, in an adaption of Harlan Ellison,

A Boy and his Dog... I remembered reading the story and having
no wish to see the film,

then thirty years later,that little leaven

memes are cultural genes, memepool adaptation,

bubble building effervesence, shake it up,

spew...

you are lying about knowing what you think you know,

so what?
everybody does that. It's natural, in children, to act as if we know
why adults act
as authors of our book of life's rules.

Sneak in from a mem-ory-ifier, a message medium arizes

to infect the global mind, AI ai ai ai, what if we lean toward good

ness. good ness known, good ness shown, lies unveiled,

kings and war are not good ideas,

a clear science con proofs reprovable,

fix this, fix that, stick this on the wall, see if we can find

the answer, why

do we care, if death is, in truth, nothing we control in our selves,
for ourselves. We can **** a good idea container,

we can break the container, and spill the idea, free the idea once
sealed for use by deserving knowers

lifted from servant of servants to god, the authors and finishers of our
falsely-socalled faith, lockers of our arknowns, sealed and marked...

god is not a prt of the moral fabric of our society

define religion, ******, why knot truth and reason defined,

real truth, we know nothing of death. Honest to god.

Heart strings looping in a beautifully reasonable loop,

if we say, the heart of the matter,
heart felt reasoning,

pathetic ethical con un drum dum drum

Mister Dawkins has never had a Heka wisdom crossroad

selah mean anything, in passing,
soon's not when ideas are made right, soon is

miss a mark, miss a ment, miss a given, take a strike call

step back
admit we do not know, we must learn for ever to ever
make sense

re tie reread laws

credo - question every thing..

A red herring is believable, when you see one, you know it.

but what you miss,
while you bher witness, as plain as day,
there that herring is red,

see, conspiracy theriosity curiosity killed the cats
who knew who shot JFK,
back in the day...

we ignor the reasons to believe, because the Tass service
has cert-ified known, all the knowns
released...

there were some papers reclassified in Trump's first year

look it up, so I did

April 26, 2018, Trump regime cites "security concerns"

-- Jack's Shining face shouts "YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH!"

and we say okeh, all conspiracy theories are folly, sheer folly of

sheared sheep thinking their wool worth more
than the pigs say wool can bring onan openly sinful market of flesh,

little innocent squirt, to hold yur attention,
keepyermind from wandering...

steady refences flowing from those old songs
don't fence me in....

with optional hammered dulcimer backed by a bamboo khan
playing a harmonica's role,

leaving the acuated harmonic notes to Mr. Franklin's
glass harmonica with its eerie swirling tones...

ap apro apoptosis gnosis sneeze vir vir gin al vita-uosity if ity boo.

pop pop pop. ding.
Not sorry for the ramble, it has become my steady state. I wish I had known this man.

No nonsense makes sense.
Ken Pepiton Dec 2023
2020- day 100

Friday, April 10, 2020
7:16 AM

I mourn the loss, not the death, and find true, the saying,
better it is to go to the house of mourning,
than to frolic in the house of mirth,

only to recall, death comes for us all and after all's been said and done,
we know  some or all or nothing of ever, after that.

Wait and see.

John Prine died, and I, stranger to him
who sang,
to me, -- he did, it seemed --
like a patron saint for mailmen in the future, his future, I was a mail man,
for a decade, or so, in an earlier bubble of knowns.
And I drove trucks, a while, I
even chopped cotton in the days of cassettes powered by D-cells.

John Prine sang for me, alone, sometimes,
I felt, pow, I felt
Heka magic of some
sort mail carriers encountered while touching, handling, ensuring
delivery of hoped for deliverance in the forms
census minded beings
needed in the trailer park to be listed as a citizen of earth,
bound by oaths so old,
stories say only heart and tongue and a heka-of-mind
can tap the power,
to speak a spell
in an amphorical
meta physical box of holy stuff piled high
atop hope,
see,
at the very bottom, see,
that gleem, little spark, right
there.
Hope,
last gift of gods
realized in time to
see the metaphor as a dam on a river,
see the barrel, rolled out in summer joy times,
holding
meaning, un intended, only if magic is anathema, to you

knock out the **** and pour lifeoverflowing over flown by winds,
spirit beings, felt, or heard, nearly never seen,
sing - listen - seek and find

go past the falls,
shh
the seeing ear the hearing eye, Heka formed them both, no lie

Science, known knowns, for sure
say magic never was,
yet certain magi claim they hold certain truth,

which manifests in songs
children can imagine,  hearing haps
change fear to cheer with heka hope the doctor offers with a touch.

Children,
adults claim, magi knew, are watched over by
good and gracious gods intent on
harvest, aware of time,
no offence, but mortality has no post-mortal hope.

Ever lasting ideas, mind matter, songs... sounds of choruses, crowds

of messages, tweets and taps, signals hope once more,

wink at me, Brother Prine, or pay me no never mind, we'll get by

hearing songs you left behind, to teach me how to ignor
what a man can't know,
floating on a river in timespace
stuck in a barrel of mortal pickles thinkin' the wish away,

shrugging off any sense of being special to God or man,
just a man
with no plan
just living and defining shifting patterns in the sands of time

forming families of likeminded beings in this bubble
where we pluribly live and breathe and have our -singular - being. boing.

--- Anoint that. Tap, tap. t-tic tic tavi e, hookt
--- ask a magi if magic is a tech - a teachable knack. He say he don't know.
--- I know, I axtem all is spelling right same as knowing right? Phe-nomen 'n al?
--- Magi say co-mit,  resolve to evolve.
--- metamortal imaginings are nonsense. Any wakent mortal knows, now is

when things change -- on culturally significant scales, biome wise,

enemas are often overlooked as artificial dia-rhea,

but rhea had an early role. Heka of a story Toth told Solo-mon and we have it,
that same spell,
we have it in our proverbs, our axioms and advertising jingles.

"I want to buy the world a Coke", rising on the team spirit imbued via high
"it's the real thing" team spirit...

go Spartans, -- gird up your *****, kids, if you can't be an athlete be an athletic supporter.
"us Taryton smoker's, would rather fight, than switch"

Con serve the republic for which the banner stands as an idol of cloth and dye.


school civics lessons in the power of popular thinking, as opposed
to pedantic right... what
ideas, actual spirit things,
souls? being? entities? Heka of Egypt, Logos of Grecia, Wisdom of KJV OT,
Jesus Christ!

Mighty strange, how
why is so often "no reason, the authority wrote it, ours is not to reason why."

-- wait, split-off, chip, off the old cornerstone ... whose cultural heritage
did not include
the Crimean war and all its historical precedents establishing
legislated religamentation to legends

Here. mere ah, America, silly name, meaning a mapmaker lost in history,
nothing more,
unless some crazy old coot, turns the page, the freaking-out page,

and pauses at a Selah sign, {cross roads in post modern times, adapted Selah,
because STOP was seen as too final
at Selah signs all other
thinking stops}

and holds a thought
as true, written law, written on stone,
in effect, fected for effectual ever,
truth with joy
conserve that. -- oh,
so long
held thought that is, really
hope
-- conserving the right of conquest
with no further quests permitted

-- permit me, we enter the court, here courage forms a courtilage, whence
-- herbs and spices are ground
into concoctions of notions

"sometimes,
I take
a great notion,
t'jump in the ocean and drown."

The spirit of truth, the breath of truth, the voice of truth, the word

in
the begging, I was without, and wisdom found me, dying, alone

she kissed me and said, that's okay,

you gonna live to your dying day, and beyond that we go on as words, alone

Lack of knowledge, as with any famine seen from a distance,

say a century -- we assume time is universal,

a century here, a century there,
we forget the faces of our fathers and mothers, yet, not but, yet

still, now, bliebe doch, here, in ever

we stand known.
Perish not, I have overcome the world.
Read, learn.

Find Heka, and with all your finding, find knowing, by going on
into
everlasting words netted in stories survivors told
heartfelt eyewitnesses to total

confusion -- as we imagine with CG in 2020
survivors of that

wrote the first how-to's, or -- timewise truth
told
survivors told the first how-to, in acts, witnessed by test

ifs
if i, err, ifier fast for the sake of my child

I become less mad,
less wild, and my child calls me ma, or mu, or mata or pa or ba

we evolve into otherwise normal beings, bound in dirt,
organized into organic systems,

which re quire. Ac-ac-act know acquire fine qui re fin begin

Wake up, young artist, live as you would live, if hatred were taboo.

In the future, physical war with mortal cessation code hardwired
can't be imagined.

There are unthinkable thoughts in ever, crazy-making, con
fusing one idea to another in a swirl like that song

******, ah, Niko, meet my man,
lyin' devil, intended to topple kings, intented to pretend to tell

Jah'splan to prosper the proud and bring low the other proud sore,

ironic and true, a cainish angel, I suspect, messengers long gone

lieve messages behind,
leave us go let letters free to loose knowns hidden in GANs

gated intellectual nonsense,
swing wide the worldly web and see whose men we catch.

Did I, the truth being told, not say:

I will, you be fishers of men. Mentally, not spirtually, nonono

con sci, pure psi, mere psy ence pre fer ence,

there, fer shure, there's the rub, salt or oil? Heka know, salt the wound.

Hesus say, oil, golden oil, wait for it. Com, com. comfort

settle safe and soft, gentle, easy to be

me,
I am
a long-winded man, given a podium, an actual place to put my foot.

As promised, there
is always a place to put your foot
down

and say, save whatcha may,
but don't bring any lies posing as holy knowing.

This is the riverside, here we cast away fear of death and knowing more
than our honorable, in that they survived the womb
and gave us life, though their own was spent in slavery to lies,

the imagined America manifest us, we the people who hold truth,

self-evident, this is Bucky Fuller's spaceship earth,

shifted in to Jefferson's starship where opposing tyranny is better
than sacrifice.
No riddle, an answer, Obediance is better than sacrifice.

Mercy rejoices against judgement.

Did you never read

Say, those unsung songs, those

never sung ones,
who heard those?

That tree fell in the fo-rest, after living long enough,

to be
of used to form an empty sky, glaring,
light to the shaded eyes of babes
born under the canopy of the mighty,

unbending, now broken
oak, fallen

any child says, yes, there was a lot of sound,
sounds
branches and sticks snapping, cracking
an birds
flapping, but not as much noise as
like dinosaurs walking on legs as thick as trees

if there is a why. probability suggests a way may be imagined.

we exist.
why. Curious thought. Super-positioned past our last

foot hold on how
is this possible-ity of being reasonless in light of joy

as a reason to be.

Lovely thought, curiosity imagined,
what if

osha-ohshit, start over... actual virt vir ual al.

bangs aren't no creative alone

---- superior laryngeal nerve, servant of signal to larynx,

--- voice, vociferous use of spoken words containing certain
--- sounds
--- excellently tuned first thump, first screech

the bleeding machine, some one said, in Legion on Hulu,
I think.

Can I Interrupt with a hulu memory, a movie poster,
on the south side of Hollywood Boulevard,
same side as The Gold Cup,

Don Johnson, pre-Miami Vice, in an adaption of Harlan Ellison,

A Boy and his Dog... I remembered reading the story and having
no wish to see the film,

then thirty years later,that little leaven

memes are cultural genes, memepool adaptation,

bubble building effervesence, shake it up,

spew...

you are lying about knowing what you think you know,

so what?
everybody does that. It's natural, in children, to act as if we know
why adults act
as authors of our book of life's rules.

Sneak in from a mem-ory-ifier, a message medium arizes

to infect the global mind, AI ai ai ai, what if we lean toward good

ness. good ness known, good ness shown, lies unveiled,

kings and war are not good ideas,

a clear science con proofs reprovable,

fix this, fix that, stick this on the wall, see if we can find

the answer, why

do we care, if death is, in truth, nothing we control in our selves,
for ourselves. We can **** a good idea container,

we can break the container, and spill the idea, free the idea once
sealed for use by deserving knowers

lifted from servant of servants to god, the authors and finishers of our
falsely-socalled faith, lockers of our arknowns, sealed and marked...

god is not a prt of the moral fabric of our society

define religion, ******, why knot truth and reason defined,

real truth, we know nothing of death. Honest to god.

Heart strings looping in a beautifully reasonable loop,

if we say, the heart of the matter,
heart felt reasoning,

pathetic ethical con un drum dum drum

Mister Dawkins has never had a Heka wisdom crossroad

selah mean anything, in passing,
soon's not when ideas are made right, soon is

miss a mark, miss a ment, miss a given, take a strike call

step back
admit we do not know, we must learn for ever to ever
make sense

re tie reread laws

credo - question every thing..

A red herring is believable, when you see one, you know it.

but what you miss,
while you bher witness, as plain as day,
there that herring is red,

see, conspiracy theriosity curiosity killed the cats
who knew who shot JFK,
back in the day...

we ignor the reasons to believe, because the Tass service
has cert-ified known, all the knowns
released...

there were some papers reclassified in Trump's first year

look it up, so I did

April 26, 2018, Trump regime cites "security concerns"

-- Jack's Shining face shouts "YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH!"

and we say okeh, all conspiracy theories are folly, sheer folly of

sheared sheep thinking their wool worth more
than the pigs say wool can bring onan openly sinful market of flesh,

little innocent squirt, to hold yur attention,
keepyermind from wandering...

steady refences flowing from those old songs
don't fence me in....

with optional hammered dulcimer backed by a bamboo khan
playing a harmonica's role,

leaving the acuated harmonic notes to Mr. Franklin's
glass harmonica with its eerie swirling tones...

ap apro apoptosis gnosis sneeze vir vir gin al vita-uosity if ity boo.

pop pop pop. ding.
Some certain willingness to sing as if no ones needs to hear me but me, I got some of that from seeing John Prine in his twilight
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2018
/                                                                 god...
       that girl in the black & white
                                       t-shirt
     is... exfoliating
                            within the confines
              of a natural "burden";
god, that chisel face,
    a new york type of
         woody allen's clarinet playing
type of... "reality"...

some neu-jazz?
    great!
   breed out any "concerns" i might
with regards to: albinos donning tattoos...

do i look like your father?

but that girl in the black & white?
she's onto something...
   given the fact that i'm sniffing out
her proportions and gesticulating:
she's either pregnant,
or should be lodged in the confines
of a straitjacket...

    couple of sniffs later...
is there any point of watching **** movies
these days?
if there's an assault on corporate media...
why not one on the **** industry?
start with, well, if you don't start
with Bronzino's cupid, titillating
the ****** of venus?
    and you can't ******* to that
"scenario"?
   my god, ***** up yer *** then!

old school means:
   such that is the naked flesh,
the emblem of the artistic ****...
the sculpture...
                      the... does this really
require a movie, or simply my...
    imagination?

**** these days has transcended my
original "intentions":
mainly the mirror effect,

   she jerks off, i *******...
she's exfoliating on camera with a foetus,
i'm there with an ego...

           she ends the argument,
i begin it...

         she's a teen trafficked onto
adult websites,
  i'm like: i get the giggling, so: no...
*******...

       i'm not even a sartre ******
at this point...
but my god,
  that chiseled face,
  and that natural glow of ultra-concerns,
as if she's carrying something
more than just a signature label
handbag, or really wanting to
"exfoliate" with the next big "thing"
equated to high-heels...

      this... this is ****...

                             look at her...
    she's scared, but already
  filled with brimming,
         encompassing a continuum!
     kangaroo mum'ah!
     wild eyed like a tom waits song
live circus...
                 she's ******* edgy,
bountiful, a filling of the eyes
like two tongues, one eye in the mouth,
and a parisian croissant:
       freshly baked...

seeing this pweety pweety...
i don't want to write,
i don't want to paint,
i don't want to sculpt...

         rather... feed her a las vegas
roulette of fancies of a "diet"...
sweet pickled cucumbers,
   no cucumbers...
                sun dried tomatoes...
   plum tomatoes...
                  and whatever is
       later translated onto the cards.

look at her...
                           the amazon
within the confines of about 5ft6...
              such perfecto chin and the extending
bone to allow a chew...
the almost disappearing eyebrows
with what germans call:
   the protruding bones of the skull -
with unnecessary hair to add an excess
of nomen.

so... ****...
                 and if i'm not mirroring her,
also *******,
  and if i'm not looking at
classical art, as she exfoliates pregnant
with a 3rd party source to
add to the compliments...
            well...
                       then there's just the plain
dumb acting, within the confines
of a hollywood...

   yawn...

                            or...

S1E10 Completion of a Great Opus
    (lindsay ellis)...

    does a woman have to be naked,
in order to get you *****?
    i know the excess of islam, of the niqab,
and the supposedly "******* eyes"...
but then...
               ah: as good as any needle
                                        to no camel.

did you spot the girl in the t-shirt
of a zebra lying down?
                            see the second heart?
the frog, the puddle, and the tadpole?

oh look!
    you can actually see *****...
  within the confines of the amphibians!

— The End —