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Mateuš Conrad Sep 2018
i still can't get my head around
one particular term...

   how can islamophobia join
the legion of other, irrational fears?

what is irrational about the
"so-called", "irrational" (fear is too
strong a word) caution with
regards to Islam?

what a disgusting term...
  i thought that Islam had some rationale
implicit within its marble mosque
walls?

       arachnophobia is a phobia
precisely because it is irrational -
and it's funny -
     first of all:
  phobia come with a reflexive
rather than a reflective position -
a reflex reaction
akin to someone who has
arachnophobia upon spotting
a tiny spider, or walking into
a thick, single thread of spiderweb
in the garden...

it's a double artifact of
a fear:
   it is actually irrational to have
an "irrational" fear of an ideology -
but it is rational to fear
cloning - esp. cloning that is
not granted to some Rockefeller,
who can clone himself,
and son his future "self"...

oh yeah: cloning was around way before
the sciences caught up...
after all: the genetic cognitive
structure / device was in place,
intact within / as the Quran...
now? plenty of ******* clones walking
about, spewing the same ****
most of the time...

  an irrational fear...
    "Islamophobia" is most certainly
a rational fear...
          it's not a funny fear either,
plus it has no reflexive potency -
i don't exactly experience
     a reflexive reaction of immediate
fear seeing a Muslim...
but i sometimes entertain
a reflexive reaction with a spider...

it's a reflective fear,
hence it's not automated, purely ******...
you know what:
i'm not even going to style this
as a goldfish argument...
i'm not into calling anyone stupid:
but paying attention
to certain grammatical restrictions
of words?
  is a bit like 1 + 1 = 2 restrictions
of logic...

   too much rationality of a distant
cousin went into Islam...
   i can't exactly call upon God to tell
me my irrational reaction
to whatever rationality went into
creating a spider...
             a spiderweb is no rational
argument as to why i'm not afraid
of four legged creatures much
larger than me...

               six legs is a bit whacky -
at least we know what exploration
looks like, under a microscope
of the insect / virus / parasitic lens -
not much fun, noting the fact that
outside of this world?
   things... of that sort of nature:
could sure as **** be much bigger...

ah...
   so maybe my arachnophobia is
rational after all:
  within the confines of the possibility
of reaching a variant of
this habitable planet,
and finding enlarged variations of
my irrational disgust for something
with six legs?
   or is it eight?

     so why am i not prone to a Semitic
phobia?
      quiet honestly i'm a
Semitephile...
   and last time i heard,
some Egyptian was telling me that
he was also a Semite...
   go figure... Egyptians are
the sort of wandering folk that
put their ******* pyramids into
caravans, brick by brick...
walk around the world and
rebuild their pyramids whenever
they go...
   notably in the Himalayas -
or the Alps... to compete with
those mountains' heights!

THERE IS NO, ISLAMOPHOBIA...
it's a fake term...
  and also a fake phenomenon -
what it is, is an incomprehensible
res per se: a noumenon -
a thing in itself, by people who use
the term to begin with...

    there is nothing erratic -
   reflexive about this phobia -
it's a meditated -
reflective fear as a cautionary /
anticipatory fear -
again: too strong a word -
apprehension -
   and the people who are,
"supposedly", "islamophobic":
have put in place measures
to not feel as constantly being
on the edge of their seats...

after all... some sort of logic went
into Islam...
some reason...
   some rationality...
         as interpreted by people
other than me...
   i can't call upon a God to explain
to me the rationality of
the irrationality i place in my
sometimes fear of spiders...
sure, there is a rationality of a spider,
however vague,
or mundane within the vector of
eat, or be eaten...

    but the rationality placed within
a spider, that explains my
irrational fear of them?
   funny as ****...

  as in that bible one-liner:
eat of this tree,
   and you will know the difference
between
              ∇HWH      &
    ΔHMH...
                          i guess no one in Rugby
really thought about the origins
of the sport in terms of the goal posts,
thinking of the Hebrew deity
in name (two names) only?

so... as a "Latin" man (evidently
the language might be dead,
but i'm not writing in ᚱᚢᚾᛖᛋ,
  most certainly) -
i can only be - either
antisemitic - or islamophobic?
  
      and Egyptians are Semites?!
the ****?!
             this topic has been drilled
into the ground...
   but as someone who has
bouts of arachnophobia,
i thought i'd move into a territory
outside the ideological
argument...
or the argument from the basis
of ideology...

       i thought it would be
much more productive to explain
the concept of phobias...
and... however you look at it...
no ideology is irrational...
   because an ideology that is,
irrational, is no coherent,
and has no propaganda...
            
what a load of crock ****!
Mateuš Conrad Dec 2016
sometimes you look at these people and think:
is it better me drinking whiskey, or is it better treating
them ontologically as zoological specimen
                                                  and worth of caging?
i think that the Aristotelian awe-principle
for the practice of philosophy was
overly-exaggerated with dues
that consider science, i think that science
confiscated the emotional
imprint of philosophy that's bound to awe
and said: willcommen unto die phobia-realm...
which i still ascribe to postcolonialism...
  the times' propaganda say:
             arachnophobia is perfectly suited
to match-up to a billionth remark of Islam,
which is why i find Islamophobia so weird...
   arachnophobia consists of only one spider...
minding the phobic in Islam?
                          it's not a case of one spider...
it's a case of spiders...
                             they can't reason with
the Big Brother opportunism, which exists...
turning the blind eye won't help...
  it will simply aggrivate such people...
and using this language has created such
frustrations... correctly? aggravate,
dance of vowels. phobias aren't big, they're small...
miniscule... tell people that something is
small when it's actually big enforcers
a postcolonial past more so...
   i see these children like the psychotic reaction
to a prophesy kindred ot Harold II's slaughter
of the innocents...
                  they're there to edorese someone...
      after all: who gives a **** about these people?
                                                         ­  (endorse)
the psychiatrist gets paid, the mental health nurse
gets paid... why would they give a **** in a way
that says: i wasn't paid for this bollocking!
  maybe up in Manchester... but down here in London,
they don't buy disguises, you're
labelled Romanian: you're bound home where
you could have been a plumber but are reduced
to a straitjacket because: some ******* said
you didn't **** her... Philip Collins and hey:
welcome to paradise.
                        down 'ere in Loon-town you get
your money's worth...      
                   i wish they took care of me...
   silence pays... you get your cringe's worth of ****
to the Kilimanjaro's worth of calling
               bottled crema-foam on a phallus
an anorexia... as i see it: anorexia in Freudian lingo
is an objection toward treating ****** artefacts
in culinary terms... means that paradox
of having a cake and eating it too...
                obviously you'll sexualise problems...
i think anorexia is a question of making
          ****** parts culinary aggregates...
                i'm not jotting: girl, aged, 16, ***-starved..
i mean in general... making ****** objects
equivalent toward a culinary status for a care
to make them more appealing in being ******...
the anorexic might start thinking: so i **** it,
and don't eat it?   penguin clap for an icecream cone!
ruffian yoga minus the slippers and the seal clapping...
the loudest revision of applause: i can guarantee....
cos the flippers were wet... hence the additional
aquatic acoustic.
                    this is very much akin to that quantum
theory of: tornado at coordinate a.,
         and a butterfly as coordinate b.,
          i can see anorexia as a substitute to sexualised
preferences in making body-parts partially edible...
            i see **** i think of the cow's ******-pouch / pillow...
    i don't know, maybe because being in my 30s
i can still fake arousal when looking at it...
       i am not the original alienist... some martian
took my title role...
          but i can understand anorexia as a way to rebel
against putting potato mash and a steak and a few
veggies with the same duty nod as one might put
a ******* object into one's mouth and having to
a Werther's Original suckling tactic on it and
never attach a bone to it, i.e. never eat it...
      anorexia by my standard is verily sexualised...
   you put something into an open space and
it's almost a trans-transgender movement...
      which is why i find the transgender "curiosities"
obstructs in art... post-transgender occupancies
           are not reserved for the easily pleased...
anorexics are such people...
             this is sexuality confused with dietary requirements...
this isn't a circumstance of pronouns politicised
and exploits of modern medicine...
                   i do tend to abuse seafood
whenever i am cringed by the suggested floral pattern
whenever i dare not see the benefits of cesarean...
and i just can't see islamophobia fitting the irrational
rationality of other conscripted phobias...
          poor choice of Greek to be honest...
                      i think they're referring to:
a subtler suggestion, minus the crusading empowerment
that's yet to be honed on...
                        well **** yeah...
once you've actually a philosophy book,
   you'll become immune to any writing advice...
                you'll actually become immune
to advice for writers.... bhy writers... because you'll
realise their opinions are disputable and therefore
disposable... because they forgot that the one thing
that democracy hates... is its subversion,
                     art is the foremost stealth-seeker of
despotism in democracy... because it simply loathes
plagiarism... art is despotism in democracy...
               and it knows it... it's just too "shy" (aah...
wee wee poo poo) to admit it...
                 from what i learned from athos?
the best advice? is to not give any advice.
                    athos? alex dumas, the three musketeers.
the moment you finish a philosophy book,
a creative writing workshop and a quote by
Hemingway will seems as nothing but a bad dream -
these quotes come from people who abhorred
the mere concept of spelling, due and through
it being an "inconvenience"...
this is from people who suggested you were always
an incapable narrator without a daydream to
escape into... these writers began sounding like
your english teachers...
              then again... is sexualising problem better
than abstracting them? personally, and
without due approval: and all the more happy for
such a circumstance having been presented for me...
            we know the sane are too numerous
because they are allowed to make too much sense
of their dreams...
                     i contend anorexia, not as an eating disorder,
but as a disorder of a culinary aversion toward
          sexualising non-culinary objects in culinary terms...
or adding cream to the phallus or melted chocolate
to the ****...
                 i find that certain culinary objects are
oversexualised...
   and this is the norm: that extends into what
quantifies as the norm, for the norm is always
a quantifiable parameter than a qualifiable
      exchange, since an exchange never appreciates
     a qualification, or a grocer's worth of norm
for a conversation of two quid's worth of earning
equates to 20 tomatoes...
    we have assumed to know it all
whereas we are congregating in a plughole
     of close proximity prefixes, i.e.
re-: reflect, reflection, reflexion, reflex,
  reiteration, reimagining, retraction, reaffirmation...
    it's a tsunami of language / lounging with too
many images... it's "lounging" with too many images...
it's the proximity of prefixes... twinned with
the opportunism of the genus of synonyms creating
a deaf-shaft of faking rhetoric...
     i still placard the whole circumstance
a dance of vowels, or the unforced deviation of
keeping up an aesthetic....
                     no, i can't claim schooling,
because i don't want to claim being indoctrinated...
     and perhaps my Freudian is a little-bit
copper-wired / ageist...
                  but isn't food for the anorexic
  a bit like turning a ****** object into food
          for the ennobled aggregational stereotype?
the jokes aren't jokes for anorexics...
  the cucumber is doubly manifest
                         as both edible, as both sexually
arrogant... and thirdly as "inspiration" for
an architectural project...
                      oh **** fame... little albino blondie
can **** on my testicular cancer for all i care...
               and say the bulge was: like
******* on a cowish ******...
                                      i like puppets anyway,
cos i'm a bit laxed in that way...
                         for all the things that might be
given, of the few things that can't be translated
from house or car, or a wife and 3.4 children statistic:
personal integrity.
        obviously certain people can only hum along
to the achievements of a zenith's worth of a house
and a car and a dog...
                            personal integrity is almost too much
for them, such "essential" components of being
a human rather than doing a human reaction
       later involve the cliche of the ultimate gamble...
and we all know how humans love to gamble...
well... few ever manage to gamble the stake of:
a leap of faith... and we all know how Nolan's inception
         ends...           that's me seeing the film a few years later...
      so how does man, the gambler fair
   when he's asked to gamble with the odds
  leap ratioed against a stumble?
                                      numbered is that 10:1?
it's just fascinating that vowels are the sole assured
                        proprietor of "dyslexia",
or as i care to mind: even with a language proficiency...
and tongue-tied waggle that's excusable for
anyone ready to write something down.
      i can appreciate being an individual,
but i can't celebrate it... i'll only utilise my individuality
to create a new plateau, a norm, the most
distinguished liberalism of my individualism;
     i will only utilise my individuality to create a new
norm - and anything that comes against it:
can burn in hell.
victoria Jul 2018
Arachnophobia

I want to live in nature
I want to travel the world
I want to live in a forest and hold hands with Mother Earth

But I have arachnophobia
My phobia is so strong that I’ve turned down jobs, trips to beautiful places even dinner parties at known spider houses!!
Martin Narrod Apr 2014
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Serenus Raymone Oct 2012
As you spin this web of deceit

I realize there is no way to retreat.

Barely able to breath

it's impossible to conceive

that every lie you told I believed.

Caught-up in this crazy design of confusion,

your lack of truth

brought life to this illusion.

Was it love or lust

that stole my trust?

Leading me to this path of foolishness,

sown in the silk

of ignorance and guilt,
Not wanting to feel the wrath

of loneliness.

By your many eyes

I've been hypnotized,

brainwashed to the point of no return
Passion is your poison,

and as it flows it burns.

Sanity hanging on by a thread

while thoughts of you

I strain to shed.

You left me cold,

surviving on my blood,

getting closer to my soul.

Leaving me encapsulated,

almost mummified

Suffocating in this web

...barely alive
Kewayne Wadley Jan 2017
I never thought twice about it
Catching a glimpse of her from behind.
Red stilettos, long slender legs
Tight black dress,
Orb like body.
Though the thought of approaching her never crossed my mind
I noticed that one of her stilettos came off as she hurried to wherever she was headed.
I made haste, calling out to grab her attention reaching to grab the missing shoe before she got too far in front of me.
She hesitated coming to a complete stop.
Seeming that she was one of those girls that was always on the go.
Very accomplished, well educated.
But her here, out of all places.
Something seemed off.
She gave the appearance that she had to make it to wherever she was going
So I rushed the shoe over to her.
The thought of something so innocent never crossed my mind to be so fatal.
The closer I approached the stiller she became.
Alone in the dark,
Along the troubles of the world this I understood and assured her that I meant no harm.
Shoe in hand, I extended my arm attempting to give her shoe back.
I took one more step,
At this pivotal moment is where I wished that gut instinct kicked in.
At this same exact moment is when she turned around.
Revealing that not all was what it appeared to be.
An couple sets of extra eyes, a few extra legs.
This was where my arachnophobia began
Elise Oct 2013
Caught in a web made of thread spun from criticism and regret,
arachnids leisurely devouring skin from exposed bone,
a life made from those who have chided every step,
no escaping the entanglement,
no shelter from the ones who are meant to render love,
instead only malice is displayed over actions they refuse to forget.

Searching hopelessly for love on abandoned webs,
finding only others broken who were lost in translation,
the foul scent of decaying bodies ripped apart,
giving their lives to those who broke them down,
rotting skeletons of memories shattered on cobwebs undusted,
coming alive and putting faith in others broken who can be trusted.
Catherine Jul 2010
Spiders sprinkling down a crooked spine

Can you hear the whine of a brain stem dying

One hundred and eighty days of pain

have metamorphosed this corpse into something deranged

mangled and tangled in webs of perception

razor-sharp enough to cut straight through the gut's deception

and when the vile heart succeeds in silencing the eyeballs

emptying the sockets of life-long pitfalls

maybe the spine-spiders will finally commence to release

the good soul that remains trapped inside this tree.

Grow tree, grow, for you are all I have ever known,

If it weren't for your protective shade, who knows where I'd have been blown.

You may be covered in cobwebs and leaves long decayed,

but I'll keep my promise to save you someday.

You may not grow to be the big oak of which you dream,

perhaps you will end up as kindling in the fiery gleam

of a thousand spiders cremating in my hearth

as I look on, a corpse consumed by an angry spark.

Lovingly your ashes will be placed

beside the oldest river, the one you once graced.

There will be no more spidery-spinal veins

to screech and rattle and bring about the worst pain.

Changelessness is not a virtue, a concept you most despised,

in the spidery spinal tree's search for life of a better kind.
aka spinal meningitis
Patricia Drake Mar 2013
I have this fear                                                                                
                                                 Of Spiders
                                                 Of webs
                                                 Of entanglement.                                            
In threads of
Commitment                                                                            
to an everyday lack of
                                                Excitement,                                    
                                                Enchantment,                                                        
                                                Involvement
Of Spiders.                                              
Unpredictable Lurking
near their diamond spun circles

Of melifluous
entrapment

I would not want to escape
Consumption
Being wrapped                                                            
in silky smooth lies
Promoting *******                                        
of my self respect

The addiction
causing venom to spread
Already pumping                                                                                
Adrenaline
Endorphine rush

I have this fear of losing
myself
In this
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2016
has anyone said anything to the LGBT movement that,
ahem, it is also a pronoun? i can't believe people are
getting dragged into:
                a. not only being taught
a secondary vocabulary that's "political", well, let's just
say democratically fascist - but that
b. a theological argument
based solely in the pronoun category is pointless -
i know point b. isn't really big,
or relevant, and to think
that St. Thomas' gospel once rejected
by the Church came back and
reigned in so much havoc that
it could have sparked the Syrian
civil war, and in general:
well... better edit Jesus from the bible...
at first it was the imitation of
the Kippah and the Tonsure -
in between the peacock and the pig,
religion resides - how you juggle
that field is up to you...
i tend you approach it as: well, whatever.
but this is really the best to be alive,
you can laugh in the night like you'd
never imagine laughing before -
i mean - who the hell would think
it wise to attack someone who sees
grammar use and wonders: but that's
also a pronoun, the changed Freudian
that (scalpel probing utility), later
popularised as it - or the complete
objectification of unit, aliases involve:
thought, self, personality, character, etc. -
well it's catching on like a ******* virus,
this unearthed grail of the Egyptian
desert - yes, they did travel to Egypt,
and look what came back...
perfectly fits Josephus' account of things,
which is literally two sentences
including the words: Mt. of Olives insurrection
deposit - i'm literally showing the easier
way out... most people took it too literally...
the existence of demons turned allegorical
altogether, but the existence of the words
inscribed as: make the outer the inner,
and the male the female: just shows you a lack
of both grammatical knowledge, and
poetic knowledge - the literal approach throws
you into the maggot pit of bullock -
and that's how it's going to say...
people took it too literally, that's the first
wave... taken as a sign of guilt from
a colonial past - they call the Visegrad
the new goose-stepping surgeons of thought,
this idea of a free and open society
has no boots on the ground in Anglophile
society - they fake being arrogant by
being courteous - being courteous is a sublime
version of feeling one owns a moral
superiority, which one doesn't...
and can you actually imagine yourself
being dragged through the filth of a discussion
concern pronouns? learn to build up a
subconscious of pure grammar association...
the unconscious, who Jung discovered
to be a hive you can't control,
i once suggested the idea that the collective
unconscious would resemble a society
where plumbers didn't know they were plumbers,
and no one knew what they were doing,
but incorporating the individual i see
the point of finally rationalising the individual
via the collective toward the unconscious -
the great free ***** debate -
primarily though, the particular use of language
will never reach a universal use of language
that isn't fragmented into a pseudo-arithmetic
of grammar - but it would do you a greater
good to endorse and implant grammar spectacle
to see past the fluidity of casual language use,
i.e. spot the ****** debate and say: hyphen!
down the middle! it! after all, we were children
once, and we played the game: you're it!
and ensure there's laconic appropriation while
people become forceful addicts of the flesh
to provide the weight to the categorised words
due to their change, and you're all airy fairy
with just the worded explanation,
still with the required genitalia and 2 billion Chinese;
but it's true though, look how horrified
the church is... the old geezers are not getting it,
they left the Egyptian shepherd unleash hell
on both Christianity and Islam...
the revision of the kippah was the monkish
tonsure - but this bit about ***-changes?
once again, blow-bubbles-through-your-lips
by motorising them and move your index finger
up and down... hey presto! a mongolian harmonica -
i can't believe so much intelligence was wasted,
and so much incorporated, and so much lost,
over a piece of skin that wasn't even categorised
as cartilage - it's a joke, right?
well, if it ain't, why the **** am i laughing?
if you learn grammatical categorisation of words,
you learn the insulating method of using language,
if whatever is offensive, becomes inoffensive,
someone will spend a whole life arguing the
transition from she                   into                 he,
with the haircuts and other adjustments,
while you'll be there, calling it neither he or she
(the end and the original result), but call
the individual accepting the transition by
the act of transition - incorporating the past
and the future via the transition period,
it! that's the laws of grammar, grammar in
psychological terms is the subconscious:
Freud tapped into the unconscious with dreams,
i managed to censor dreaming and sleep,
hence i tapped into the subconscious by
exposing grammar as, well, yeah: subverted language:
or language submerged by universal laws -
               in context you can understand
everything i write, in content? probably not -
again the boiling point is not 100°C - it's
universals and particulars - that's the 100°C of language -
via the thesaurus you get similar d.n.a. strands
(i just hallucinated a smiling face, but not too vivid) -
i.e. via synonyms and worded cleansing of antonyms
   off the respective suggestion as zenith-conundrum
                                                                               of Socrates:
       if something is universal it's evolved or translated
   into context - the context? using the alphabet and
words... (time references to coordination aren't necessary,
   well, something has to be unanimously expressed
  even if via dyslexia) -
                    what's particular is what's rigid in terms
of evolutionary adaptation - verbiage, i know!
   inescapable! what should i do? gauge my eyes out?!
again, dittoed paraphrase, shortened self-plagiarism:
     if something is particular it's independent or non-reciprocatory
  within boundaries of context-out-of-context: content,
   which means a b c d e f g... but arranged to a self-proclaimed
deviation (let's call prefixing the self- to a word provides
    the whole mechanism of deviating non-universal
automation, mildly put: eccentricity) -
                  in summary, you ever wonder what's
related between the list of phobias such as arachnophobia
and xenophobia? apparently the term Islamophobia
was translated into Greek as: god is one, and Muhammad
is his test subject... the sum of all little fears -
         oddly enough phobias are spontaneous and are
rarely instilled, they're lightning strikes...
i see a big spider, i recoil - it's not a permanent setting -
i stand on a ladder 3 metres off the ground, sure:
acrophobia -                    i sit in a crowded tube train,
yet again: claustrophobia - but these phobias are
a sort of antidote to the maxim: the thing to fear is
fear itself... phobias are reflex reactions to being conscious,
how people managed to translate them into reflections
is beyond me... i happen to come across phobias
all the time... but in a reflexive way: a ****, a spontaneity
surrounding them... there's nothing to be reflective about...
it's not even a phobia when i tell you a similar
reaction: suburban street at night, beer, cigarette,
walking, eyes not concentrating on anything...
~suddenly two women sitting on a low cement fence
in front of their houses startles me... the immediate
reaction is a nervous shock... who the **** would
think of that as being a phobia worthy a category?
no one. which is why i don't understand
the concept of Islamophobia... it's weird...
i don't get the same nervous sudden **** of seeing
something that isn't supposed to be there
when i walk down Oxford street and see a Burqa-clad
woman... whoever invented this word,
had a really ****** time at school and transcended
all laws of etymological construction:
i.e. on basis of really claustrophobic syllable constructs,
Islam is way beyond syllables, it's a noun,
as if the suffix / affix phobia - or little fear,
no, not sigma fear, fractional fear.
Arisa Mar 2019
Spider in my room.
Tucked away in the corner.
I know you are there.
The paranoia of people scared by spiders is pretty funny to me.
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2018
.oh man, a spoiled mood, so rare, but so invigorating at the same, it's like you get so mad that you're only waiting for the cooling period, the cooling period is always so... armchair analogous... some people turn to a gym sauna, but nothing compares to letting off steam from, the tabernacle, i.e. your heart.

woke up at 10am, checked the time,
dived in for a snooze...
3 hours later, i thought i just lay there,
a strange sleep consumed me,
as if: half awake, half knocked out
by a Mike Tyson punch...

took the broken drill to the workshop,
walked in... immediate
claustrophilia emerged...
the scents of metal, oil
and cardboard...

    are men more prone to claustrophilia
and women more prone
to claustrophobia?

such a gentile lad behind the counter,
his father working beside me on
some other mechanical tool...
he said some wise words about
hands, and tools,
and what not...
can't exactly remember what he said,
but:

hands & tools were in it,
so... given that: hands are tools...
he wasn't far off from the truth...

such a gentile lad...
he even managed to catch up with me
in the off-lice
while i was wondering what beer
to buy (on this fine fine October
afternoon)
to get my details...
     gripped his shoulder gently
and said my thank you...

but last night was something else...
i rarely become mad while drunk,
but when i do:
pandemonium in my head...
the ego become a Minotaur
and subsequently the labyrinth expands...

phobias and philias -
fears and loves...

  while i was walking up to the workshop
with my broken drill,
i passed a Muslim family...

now... if i saw a pretty large spider crawling
unsuspected and with catching
it with a ****...
i'd have a reflex reaction,
an irrationally funny reflex reaction...
SO WHAT THE **** IS
ISLAMO"PHOBIA"?
apparently some people like to abuse
words...
   i passed the Muslim family casually...
what? they're just people,
the father was teaching his children
how to cross the road safely,
and his wife was watching
him with that motherhood glee
of contentment with regards
to how their father was engaging
her offspring...
  
   islamophobia?! what?!
come again... because i've just explained
what arachnophobia is...
a phobia is associated with
the reflexes... or rather... a reflex...
an irrational, funny (later) reflex...
      when i see a Muslim i don't react
to him / her like i would react
to a ******* spider of abnormal size
(abnormal... because it's not
a tarantula)...

but today i woke and felt i had to
concede to an apology,
yes, casual "racist" that i am,
i forgot to prefix the word ****,
i.e. ****-,
       because, just sometimes...
i can't be bothered to add the suffix
-stani...
                  simple...

   but there is a but...
my father was in a slight traffic collision...
and... i had to listen to him
ramble on and on about the details
as i filled out the police report...

when two cars collide...
you exchange insurance details...
so the insurance companies can
meddle in the matter...

but this ****- woman had some sort
of bodyguard who intimidated my father,
telling him: it was illegal to exchange
insurance details...
yes yes... accents: i call them diacritical
distinction coordinates...

              the point being:
what is she? some ******* Hindu deity,
a holy cow?!
        so she couldn't have had her sight
impaired by the Ninja outfit?!
a liberal journalist in a center right
newspaper (i think that the times
is center right, or, at least,
i like to think so)

                     wrote an article about
donning the niqab for one day...
and she herself claimed that her vision
was impaired... when, walking...
there...
           i'd ban niqabs for the purpose
of safe driving...
     no! there's no ******* compromise!

****...
        i just want to drink a beer,
and watch a cherry tree change color in
this glorious season...
         why does everything have to boil
down to the nitty-gritty,
the fiddly, the perpetuating nuance of
what is, and what isn't -
   that isn't always black & white?

- but i do remember why my parents emigrated
to England... well...
if they weren't ****** over by
some ****** lawyer... England was just
a step-over... over to Argentina and
hopefully to H'america...
    seems my mother had a fascination
with her grandfather...
a polyglot, who emigrated there...
   married some woman,
abandoned his son (my grandfather)
due to his brother's smear campaign
to inherit some land, yada yada yada...
but the Iron Curtain was lifted....
   major recession...
my hometown's steel industry collapsed,
plus the Communist Party connections
of my grandfather:
who joined the Party?
               for opportunistic reasons...
and to fulfill functions like sitting court
on a jury...
                        my hometown saw the demise
of the fall...
                    around 20,000 jobs lost,
if not more...
          
and yes, i know what illegal immigration
looks like,
   but i also know what legal immigration
looks like...
   i've seen the ping-pong...
i just hate it...
                    when some Somali with 10
kids gets a council house in west London...
and he's probably "illegal" too...
or, whatever Commonwealth ****-hole
he comes entitled with the status:
the former colonized.

but at the end of the day...
i just want to drink my beer man.
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2017
concerning the pop. narrative -
   i'm a wordsmith after all -
someone gives me the raw materials
of islam and (a rainbow) of affixing -phobia
and i can't seem to hammer
the **** thing into shape...
   it's, foremostly: a pseudo-phobia.
a misnomer of the phobia compound.

for a people who have an "irrational" fear
of islam, it seems strange that the same
people gave birth to some form of rationality -
let's just call it islamophobia
  not an irrational fear - but rather:
                      and irritation -
the irritable fear of being suddenly forced
into the extremities of living the daily life -
when something unexpected happens -
mind you, the people who have been forced
into these situations: stop their want
for adrenaline in a base jump, from an aeroplane,
or bungee jump off a bridge.
   islamophobia is not a "phobia" as such,
it's not irrational - it's just irritating -
but then again you don't actually believe
a spider to be a irrational creature (arachnophobia),
  you don't believe an open space with lots of people
   (agoraphobia)
  to be an irrational circumstance -
you're facing yourself being irrational in
both circumstances -
    since the phobia hides an actual rationale -
islam?
        that's much harder - since you're
being "irrational" while someone is actually
being "rational" -
               when in fact there's no escaping
that contra of you being "rational"
   and the muslim being "irrational" -
not one side is either *rational
or irrational:
the spider and the open space filled
with people already stated:
                 you're being irrational;
the fear of spiders is irrational -
   but there is no rationality from the perspective
of the spider: what does a spider
know about rationality? jackshit!
        there is no such thing as islamophobia:
because you're not being irrational about
what has its own rationality -
     its own monologue and intra-dialogue...
whoever coined this stupid word
is as dumb as their rationality allows them
to make enough people use it;
it's only an irrational fear: if there is no
                 rationale behind it;
point being: there's rationale behind islam,
ergo there is no such thing as
islamophobia.
Mateuš Conrad Dec 2015
art critics are like tourists in the art world / australian cricketers,
they come to see the major sights, like bling ben, the eiffel tower
and the leaning tower of pisa... and they leave very quickly...
when the atmosphere of each town allocating each momument
strikes them as both unappealing and unwelcoming.
+ we're not living in the age of the culture of celebrity,
the celebrities were fooled...
we're looking at living in the age where the culture
is defined as: looking for the doppelgängers:
just check out the galaxy chocolate advert - the 2nd reneissance
happened between the nineteen 50s 60s 70s 80s and 90s
and now everyone is bemused when they have to
entertain showing up on trivia-knowledge shows.*

there won’t be a spoiler alert with this book,
you will basically not read it,
it took me two years and a few books in between
to finish heidegger’s opus being and time,
at the end he’s quizzical about either being
the strand of philosophers who follow aristotle
or a strand that follows plato,
given he allocates 15 years to study aristotle
i assure you he’s from the root of aristotle,
and as a poet i favour him and aristotle,
given heraclitus was almost a poet: it really doesn’t
make you a poet if you express yourself
without using a paragraph... a paragraph is not
among the poetic techniques, so don’t bother:
it’s just a ****** ref. to a square.
i never quiet knew why the beatles made a bigger impact
than the doors... i blame lucy and her fishnet stockings
rather than van gogh’s night with reference to diamonds
as jubilee stones of carbon.
i find it fascinating that contemporary schizophrenics
have the delusion of thinking their friends are spies,
i walk in a german army shirt to prove the point...
of course men affected in greater no. by this condition,
after all the spermatoid is the creative element
given the **** singletons are blank canvases...
but you know what single “thing” undermines
psychiatric diagnostics? empathy...
empathy is a divergence from solipsistic apathy... otherwise
known as self concern,
and i know that if you itemise further on an atomic level
(kabbalah) you get a- pathos...
apathy meaning without pathology...
but everyone, each one of us has some sort of pathology,
the most frequnted domain being the domain of phobia,
arachnophobia e.g.,
to intend to be wholly without pathology would
turn the notion of the ego into a-, in casual usage,
one can be pathological with or without one’s request...
one can be pathological in relation to oneself...
i once said that apathy breeds no pathology, and it’s true,
but concerning this statement there’s the kantian
thing-in-itself (noumenon): that apathy is self-caustic,
self- implying automated, and is a cause of concern to either party
concerned.... if apathy is seen as a quasi- / pseudo- pathology
then all subsequent pathologies are understood better...
because why testify an apathy without an adrenaline rushing
through the system? better still... why not call apathy
a misguided exfoliation of inserted / produced adrenaline?
as akin to atheism - if a- (without) -theism (softer logic akin to god,
god via experience rather than theory / the -ism expression, not the logos expression)
is to be expressed why is there a necessary concern to exclude
any logic of the existence of, when it’s argued that experience is not necessary
to prove anything, but rather non-experience has a basis of adequate logic?
you know that point... when using words and subsequent reading
becomes akin to arithmetic in terms of complexity,
where words such as i and think, are unified by the equivalent of +, -. x
by guidance of noun, verb, adjective, etc.
Sonorant Nov 2021
I. Phasmophobia
I am the innumerable gloom of dim, long-buried anthems.
In wistful suspension, I shadow over a living loft in silence.
Tethered between lines, my fog bleeds on panes in knocking
Hawking your dimming faces in the lamplight of my genesis.
Torn the tunnels of their astringed throats, a requiem is reaped.
— ”I was a shape moving rapidly, nervous at the edge of your vision.” -Cynthia Huntington

II. Claustrophobia
I am the small match ignited from the depths of your mind.
My walls blanched absent of evacuation, self invite into
Your personal and private violation, invading every fissure
With icy burns, solidifying your chrysalis on hungry bark.
Your frozen God of smothering doom, a willow devours you.
— “But then I remember the universe was closed, and so very small. There was really no where else to go.” -Peter Watts

III. Ommetaphobia
I am the stricken, scarlet cloth coalesced of cruelty and ichor.
These rawboned talons, cloaked thereof, overtake embrace—
In coarse delight— a piety of prisoners’ silver stark sights.
Perceptive cavities leak my garb as my artistic blade sweeps.
Plucked from the dredges of a briny skull, two diamond orbs.
— ”The hearts hushed secret is in the soft, dark eye." -Letitia Elizabeth Landon
.
IV. Monophobia
I was the cherished friend to you, my twine stitched in your grasp.
A golden balloon unaffected by tides of time and distorting gales.
Alas from this intimate atmosphere shot an arrow, poisonous
Where silently I erupt into a missing memory upon the wind.
As your curtains close, you breathe for me, without a hand to hold.
—”And all I lov’d, I lov’d alone.” -Edgar Allan Poe

V. Arachnophobia
I am the legion of soundless beholders aloft your dormant dreams.
An itch scattered over the crooked spine, arid for pulsing melodies.
This fruitful sapling beckons each dark, angular limb near your neck.
As my lighting strikes erratically, your foolish impulse slow to clutch
Creeping necrosis bestowed by the guardian who claimed your home.
—”The Spider taketh with her hands and is in king’s palaces.” -Proverbs 30:28.

VI. Agoraphobia
I am the ancestral abductor of this rotting womb you deem a shelter.
As the embryo held within, I contract you into tides and bid ‘swim’.
Directions devoid, beyond bolted doors, you plummet to my depths
Where you wish for comforts’ wind but mislaid the method to breathe.
My otherworld encompasses you, whilst I drink in your suffocating.
— ”Mother is the name for God on the lips and hearts of all children.” -William Thackeray

VII. Ecclesiophobia
I am the black shepherd in martyric masque and a mitre casque.
A discrete imminent sheep cowers, hanging on the hook in my gallery—
My chalice congregates your pure liquor of laments for libertine luxury.
I rise where you fall and smother the lantern of your last mortal minutes
Instilling final grace in the stillness of your veins, my kingdom reigns eternally.
— ”Suffering can be a gift.” - Abbie Bernstein.
Pyrrha Aug 2018
I liquidate my words with love
As I drink and dine with you
To poison you with my perfect drug
The only stable cure for a world of webs
While you may be caught in mine
I'm no spider but a simple butterfly
Meant to drink the nectar bleeding from your genuinity
I'm writing this at 3 am and I have stayed up till 5am every night this whole month. I can't tell if my words are ready or if i'm delusional from exhaustion.
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2018
what could possibly be a logical joke,
akin to: 1 + 1 = 2... ha ha! type?
i can't think of logical joke,
comedy is beyond being calculated,
it can be properly
  executed within the realm
of punctuation a drop-line...
  but that's about as far as logic
centers around comedy...
   only recently i revealed
that i am arachnophobic...
   (rob zombie - the girl who loved
the monsters)...
           i am... i see a spider
the size of a thumb...
     i'm like: jeez! get that thing
away from me!
you know how comedy exists
in logic?
             it exists in phobias...
given that phobias are illogical...
well... that's still the antonym of
logic...
  yes... i know the spider
is only the size of my thumb...
but phobias... ha ha!
there's something obvious about
the joke of phobias,
as there's also an ontology binding
them...
  arachnophobia? is spontaneous,
it's a reflex reaction...
  and that's the logical joke...
the illogical fear...
   funny... really funny...
this progressive term...
what is it... hmm...
oh!
    right!
     - this really comes as a reiteration...
how can i be, "islamophobic"?
where's the reflexive reaction
upon seeing a Muslim in full
religious attire?
where's the principle of phobia
being acted on?
the reflex reaction?
where is...
phobias are the jokes of logic,
and the comedy of logic is:
that they summon illogical
reactions to the altar of relativism...
ergo... if i'm scared of
a thumb sized spider in the shed,
i should be scared of my thumbs...
islamophobia is such a made-up
word...
what logic is logic to me,
behind the spider?
            em... i'm trying to tickle
& trickle god into all of this...
but i can't...
what sort of logic is behind
the spider?
   a spider, like all animate beings...
well... even trees are animate...
in slow-motion (phototropism)...
what logic is there?
there is no logic to them...
they are purely empirical reactionaries...
there's no logic,
because there's no consciousness
of thought,
the senses are too inclusive
of themselves,
to allow an exclusivity that
might make their being
impregnated with thinking,
fertile with thought...
ah... i see the joke...
my phobia is funny...
  but...
   ha ha...
    you want to experience
a fear of god?
          find your phobia...
sure, the spider has no knowledge
of logic, but whatever "created"
the spider has placed an irrational
fear of the spider, and lodged
it into my general standard
of logic...
i see the fear of god in a spider,
as i also see the comedy...
phobias are categorized by
irrational reflexes,
   they are a set of cognitive reflexes...
so... why is the term islamophobia
so bogus?
what... you think that when
i see a woman in a burqa
my "natural" reaction is:
a reflex, 'kin to the words:
  oh ****! a suicide bomber!
NO!
     this term is what the ancient
Greeks would call:
what the **** are you talking about?!
(said really quickly).
- but that's the nature
of phobias... and the nature
of the comedy of logic...
it is derived from phobias...
i can acknowledge the comedy
of being "afraid" of spiders...
not all...
   it's not exactly a fear...
it's not a disgust...
it's a reflex reaction i have
inherited...
       from god knows where...
  you can't associate Islam with
an attache of: phobia...
like i said... a phobia is the joke
of my own logical conclusion...
i'm laughing at the illogical
premise... my cognitive reflex
and subsequent ****** reaction...
since there is no logic
behind a spider,
only the illogical pure empirical
functioning of the being...
and... past the "illogical"
nature of the spider -
the logic of a "god"...
    **** contemplating god
using the spider,
and, "the architect" reflected
in the spiderweb...
i'm going after the joke...
but... Islam as a phobia?
last time i heard...
Islam wasn't illogical...
it was just a logic different
to my own...
so... where's the joke?
where's the grand phobic
reflexive stand?
   i'm like the ancient Greeks...
what the **** are you talking
about
   (said really quickly)...
it's no phobia to be apprehensive,
precautionary,
anticipatory...
        a bit like...
ha!
          heating up oil in a frying
pan... and the moment
just before you drop in the potato
chips one by one...
wondering...
   has the water been properly
drained from them?
or hasn't it...
and the oil will go crazy?
that's not a phobia...
   a phobia is the comedy of logic;
but Islam is a logic
of its own kind...
  a phobia is trans-national /
  trans-ethnic, trans-gender, trans per se,
universal...
     so why do i not retract
with a reflex upon seeing a Muslim
in his religious attire?
like i would with a spider
in a shed the size of my thumb?
so... what Islamo-phobia?
Calla Fuqua Dec 2020
I wish my tactile hallucinations would give me a massage,
A warm hug from my non-existent mother,
A kiss from my long distance boyfriend.

A twisted fairytale

My hallucinations
They know what I fear most
And they want me to be afraid
They feed off my terror
They get off on my sick brain
They know what torments me.
Arachnophobia’s favorite game to play
The spiders
Come out of
My skin
They’ve been waiting patiently
When I’m most vulnerable
When I’m isolated
When I’m helpless

I wish my tactile hallucinations would
**** me
I am not actually suicidal
Ian Beckett Nov 2012
Dinner, Dafney hot, courtyard cool and civilized,
Fettuccini fabulous, guest glamorous and glowing,
Eyes starlike smiling, pulpo carpaccio savoured.

Reality will bite in next week’s  jungle game.
Imagination runs riot, perfect picture of dinner
For ants, ambling in forbidden places, ouch.

Coiffeurless, bad-hair-day, dishevelled demon,
Boredom, book, arachnophobia perhaps, escape.
Red carpet missed, pampering needed, tranquilo.
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2015
it was only the first screening of ex_machina,
but the words 'deus' and 'placebo'
were uttered after a walk of thus pondering:

understanding this movie requires kant's
critique of pure reason matter of frankly,
i lost the kantian concepts of *a priori
and
a posteriori using the cartesian method of understanding,
gravitating in my realm of understanding
almost unconscious why the cartesian uncoupling
of the kantian compounds is required:

invoking a purely cognitive aspect of analytical
and synthetic i took the temporal realm of
pre- and post-, which is respective of the definitions
of the above italicised -

when watching the movie... apart from the groovy
part where music has no central role as is usual
in all horror movies... the aesthetic of horror movies
has been cleaned up thanks to technology,
that knife into the chest like knife into butter
is perfect... the knife into the chest also perfect...
it's the robotic of man's daily routines done by a robot
that does the horror bit...
it's music replaced with claustrophobia,
the theory is mesmerising... generally speaking
phobias are tiny... and the horror scenario
losing focus in terms of music and instead
focusing on an expanding phobia, like claustrophobia
is a gigantic leap in the horror movie scene...
i wonder what the moving imagery of arachnophobia
would look like... without technological frankensteins...
a massive thematic move but still trendy with mary shelley's
original idea... more clean cut... no scar marks...
a beautiful frankenstein emerges...
but enough of that...

the kantian translated with cartesian methodology,
losing the a priori and a posteriori coupling
with analytical and synthetic notions -
like me when i first learned language,
21 years later i've just started the analytical procedure,
prior to these years, the cut-off point at 21
i was merely synthesising the language,
so well that i even managed to phonetically
strain my tongue to fake having a limousine
and a mansion and a horse... posh posing fake...
it happens - no geordie no scouser no cockney in me...
just mundane pure elocution to a ****,
harmless if i'm being honest -
but no, no no, i mean i had to synthesise the language
first, before i lost all possible synthesis of it
attributed to vocabulary... it's then that i started
to analyse it!

so this robo chic... i was thinking:
what's the analysis to synthesis ratio in her?
that must be balanced, right?
there are so many things to analyse in life:
all those biologists, chemists, forensic scientists...
but only one successful synthesis - almost
like free will that does not dare to conflict
with other possibilities...
there's no before / after concerning what one knows,
a symbiosis has to exist between these two things -
it's not that she's artificial, she's pure analytic,
she can't be pure synthetic:

deep blue is pure synthetic - he was given all
the possibilities of a chess mastermind,
he's purely synthetic, because the only thing
he can analyse is chess, and in only doing so,
he can only synthesise the authentic craft of
playing chess and nothing else, meaning he has
limited parameters -
but this robotic woman / frankenstein
would be lost in terms of pure synthesis, unlike
deep blue - she's pure analysis, meaning
the interaction is almost two dimensional,
meaning that if man questions his free will,
she would also have to do so...
i'm thinking analytical intelligence (a.i.)
either pondering suicide, ****** - morality
in total... and being drunk...

the same conceptualisation applies
in my own scenario, using the cartesian methodology
on kantian concepts i realised
my thought is an interchange of analysis | synthesis |
analysis | synthesis... this interplay
is staggering... first i cognitively synthesise
then i cognitively analyse, ping-pong.

i have no care for attaching a priori to
synthesis or a posteriori to analysis, or whatever
dogmatic building block is expected,
in the temporal sense i see the future
as ordained by the faculty of imagination
and the present as ordained by the faculty of memory;
in the present there's only this:
a lot of verbs, some which i can control, some which
i can't... depending on my noun bank account...
that same old fascination with flowers and
the complete and utter lack of apps. for deciphering
names of flowers...

but of course there's a moral to the film's plot -
it mentions consciousness and awareness to something...
a bit like man being conscious of his evolution,
hence the necessity of forgetting **** sapiens
and embracing deus placebo...
after all... it will please the vanity of man to
think himself a god...
and in so doing... craft the possibility of a deus sapiens...
a rational god... given that we're still monkeys
in spandex shooting bullets at innocent random targets
in the minority.

did i forget something?
four beers does the trick... i watched a great movie...
now i'm going to drink some whiskey
and paint my room blood red
donning a dracula bun of hair tickling with excitement:
but prior... if the universe is an undifferentiated substance,
say... water... i imagine the geometry of it's boundlessness
concerning the capillary effect of water...
what sort of geometric shape would allow the singularity
of the universe to provide the parabola of it
being in a tube of glass... in comparison to it...
i'm an indentation... i'm like mercury in similar circumstances...
hello big void... filled with aurora colours and magpies.
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2018
.well, among all the other phobia contenders? the funny ones, even i sometimes succumb to an arachnophobia, the reflex reaction to an extremely large domestic spider... a slight ****, no rhetorical base... like: what the ****?! the simple beauty of an irrational fear, since a phobia is an irrational fear... but... islamophobia? what the **** is irrational about that? no one seems to talk about islamophilia - unless of course in the convert community of ginger ninjas from the York-shire, or some other Rotherham *******...

...and if you were to talk to any Urdu speaking
Pakistani?
    he'd tell you: i hate the Wahhabi movement...
perhaps in Saudi Arabia it is mainstream -
but outside of Saudi Arabia?
            just plain old hypocrisy - banning music,
but still singing an adhan...
          why not murmur the call to prayer
like a bunch of ******* Catholics at that point
in the mass, where the congregation almost
sounds satanic, murmuring the credo -
   the i believe in...
blah blah... go to a Polish Catholic mass...
   and wait for the moment when they start
their satanic murmuring of the credo -
          i just don't remember if it's after
    the body & blood transfiguration -
hmm... poetry in motion, hanging on a thread
of metaphor...
         but irrational fears are funny...
         it's not even: not all the spiders...
well, a baby spider is like a baby muslim....
       "just" some, some...
             whatever, tell that to the Manchester
matriarchs who lost their granddaughters...
         claustrophobia is a funny fear,
      agoraphobia, yet another,
      and the list goes on...
              it's funny not from the perspective
of mocking the individual,
      but the fear per se...
                         and if I really were islamophobic?
would i trust a Turkish barber to shave
a part of my neck, while he molded my beard
for the Istanbul look?
                      don't think so...
    but... concerning the Turks... esp. because
of their talented, absolutely top game
barbers...
                               the year is 1683...
and Louis XIV and Emperor Leopold are
playing courtesan chess over Spain
   and Portugal...
                  in comes the Ottoman empire,
and besieges Vienna...
         who bails out the Holy Roman Empire?
the Polish-Lithuanian commonwealth -
with Jan III Sobieski at its head...
                   see... Poles have had many ruff
& tumble encounters with the Turks,
   after all, the Turks owned much of southern
Europe...
          now take that, and move this into
the current year...
     they're Muslims... but... WE SHARE
A COMMONALITY... A HISTORY...
   AN UNDERTAKING OF / FROM THE PAST,
translated into the current year,
   and subsequently the future...
              i already said once upon a time...
is it really "islamophobia" if i'd rather favor
Turks and the ****'ite?
           forget whether Islam is a religion of
"peace"... they're not perfect,
   did the ******* Sunnis forget that their religion,
like all others, is schismatic?
       there's your ******* perfect -
but you have to give them credit,
   on account that... well...
   Muhammad didn't keep his word to Ali...
and that the schism happened so fast...
     not at least 1000 years it took for
the East-West schism of 1054...
          bam-wham thank you Ahmed...
plus... if you look at it... no ****'ite terrorist...
only the ******* Sunnis...
            the Turks imploded on themselves...
that's why the grandmothers of Poland
prefer the imported Turkish tele novellas
over the Mexican ones...
          so... if you want to avoid the bumper sticker
of Islamophobe...
              (a) what is irrational about it,
        when it's not a quirky, irrational fear?
  (b) find yourself a Turkish barber.
Bella Feb 2015
i. arachnophobia; fear of spiders. more common in females than males, why at night you choke on the idea of her fingers on him, long and thin.

ii. ophidiophobia; fear of snakes, fear of being crushed alive by commitment, why in the mornings you never left your number, why you don’t call her back, why you regretted it later.

iii. acrophobia; fear of heights. why she stays out of circuses and away from people like you who would make her fall in love.

iv. agoraphobia; fear of situations where escape is difficult, fear of the plane that takes her away, fear of the open crowded space of your ribcage where paintings of her still constantly hang.

v. cynophobia; fear of dogs, fear of the graves where good noses could dig up the mistakes you have made, fear of a girl who made you want to get a puppy and settle down somewhere finally.

vi. astraphobia; fear of thunder and lightning, fear of being alone in a house that always sounded like both, the stormclouds of your histories always brewing behind flimsy doors. fear of finding her there and having her kiss you in the rain. fear she’d never come back to you again.

vii. trypanophobia; fear of injections, fear of drugs, fear of the doctor who looked into your heart and told you that your shaky hands and bad dreams were a sign that she’s crept into your sleep.

viii. social phobias; fear of social situations, fear of your father’s white knuckles on the wheel while he says, “no son of mine is a ***** like this,” fear of her mother’s judgement, fear of not being enough.

ix. pteromerhanophobia; fear of flying, fear of remembering how long it’s been since you actually felt alive, why you trembled whenever you held her tight, why one day she frightened you so bad that you left in the middle of the lonely night.

x. mysophobia; fear of germs. why you knew you’d only get her covered in dirt. why looking at yourself in the mirror always seems to hurt. why you will never be happy without being hers. out of this whole messed up world, she was the only thing pure.
aspen wilde Jul 2020
creeps up on you when you finally think you're ok
but the winter has finished now
we gotta wait for summer to come around
when they're out in full force
when you turn the corner and least expect it
don't worry it'll find you
Mark Toney Oct 2019
big bright green spider
on my drivers-side window-
you held me hostage
5/21/2018 - Poetry form: Haiku - I parked my car and there's a stare down between me and spidey. I didn't know when I opened the door if it would drop inside the car (not good) or outside (preferable). I was only held hostage for 3 or so minutes until I made my move. Success! Both of us walked away from the car in different directions :) - Copyright © Mark Toney | Year Posted 2018
Lilith Avenue Aug 2014
i feel him crawling under my skin like a spider
( and i should probably tell him i have arachnophobia )
the constant attempts to make it stop turns my skin raw
but of course it only takes me f  o   r   e    v    e    rr
to find the courage to tell him:

i am not a drug addict
i do not enjoy the hallucination of his touch on my skin
the way he slithers under through an open wound
like some toxic bacteria looking for a place to grow
with this need to keep my attention pointed straight at him
as if he were polar north and i were a mere compass
just trying to find home.

but he'll do it all for love -
as if love were his reason to cover me in tar
and tell me if i listen to him, he wouldn't have to hurt me
i do it because i love you

love is not an excuse, it is not a motive
it is something to be felt, not some twisted blade you use
to throw into someone's back.
they told me it was okay that he was the reason my wrist
turned red every night when i was finally alone
in the corner on the bathroom floor, laughing
because i didn't know how to handle the emotion

love was the drug you slipped into my drink when
i was turned the other way
and by the time i already noticed
you already got me addicted to it
teni Sep 2018
i got my sign,
my heart dropped at what i saw.
im not going to whine,
but youve left me in awe.

you are unpredictable,
i know that for a fact.
highly indictable,
yet you think im acting wack?

never in a million years
would i have expected this from you.
you must know im drowning in tears,
and my hearts in need of glue.

i miss you, sweetheart.
i miss everything you come with.
bit by bit it tears me apart,
my heartache aint a myth.

so yes, i want you back.
but please know i have changed.
my heart rid of the black,
i know the rules of the games.

im still the sweet, soft me
that i know you adored,
thats the part only youd see
but i guess you got bored.

i do agree,
this is a thing of the past.
but this time, you and me,
id try to make us last.

ive saved myself for you,
not letting anyone close.
because its no question who
i still love the most.
we both know i could never move on no matter how hard i tried.
Larry B Apr 2010
Did I mention that I'm scared of heights?
Well, I guess I probably just did
See, that's the reason my step ladder
Well, my wife, makes sure it's hid

Now I can climb anything at all
But my problem is coming back down
Even if I'm standing on a step stool
It feels like twenty feet from the ground

Now, I'm also a little claustrophobic
Okay, maybe, I am a lot
I feel like the walls are closing in
Even tho, I know that they're not

I also have a touch of arachnophobia
A fear of spiders, not ants
Cause everytime I see one, I scream
And it causes me to wet my pants

Okay, stop laughing, that's not funny
Cause I'm a little bit scared of humor
See, I used to play practical jokes
Til they told me it would cause a tumor

You've heard, "There's nothing to fear but fear itself?"
You guessed it, I'm scared of being scared
Now, you better stop makin' fun of me
Don't make me regeret that I shared

You already know what scares me the most
Yep, it's my mother-in-law
The most hideous creature to walk the earth
By far, the scariest of all

Okay, I'm scared to end this poem
What if I can't think of anything else to write?
LOL, I know you know that I'm kidding
Everyone knows me by now, tho, Right?
Jade Feb 2018
I. The Fireflies



There was once

a time when the fireflies

had made a home out of me.



One evening,

long after the sun

had surrendered itself

to the hazed horizon

and the pregnant moon,

they had come to my window,

golden freckles of light

twinkling playfully

in the dimness.



What exactly

prompted their gravitation

towards me,

I will never be entirely certain of,

though I have my theories.



Maybe it was the

warm glass of milk

sitting on my bedside table.

Or maybe

they had simply mistaken

the peppers of stardust

laced atop my eyelashes

for their own kin.



Or perhaps–

and most likely–

it had been

the murmur of poetry

on my lips:



…watch how they dart about the trees

in whimsical harmony,

how they rise up towards the dark sky

in the hopes that, someday,

they too will become one with

the constellations that blink

so brilliantly in the blackness.



Yes,

Perhaps this what had captivated them so–

a homage to the fireflies themselves.

Perhaps this is

why they had drifted towards me,

as if in some fanciful trance,

weightless as paper lanterns.



And how sweet they were

as they twirled about the ringlets

in my hair and

nuzzled their small frames

against my cheek

and fingertips.



How sweet they were–

that is,

until the bees came.



II. The Bees



They made lightning bugs

of my fireflies,

whose soft luminescence was replaced

with a violent stream of sparks,

one resembling something close

to the bursting of a fluorescent bulb



And so came the lightning,

the firefly’s only defence against

the approaching swarm,

their only ammunition

in the impending battle:

fireflies versus

bees,

both in want

of my nectared

marrow.



But the lightning

was no reasonable match

for the bees,

with their

large, gelatinous figures

and the persistence

of their stabbings;

annihilated were the fireflies,

carcasses crumbling to soot,

their innards,

still glowing,

smeared across my collarbone

like war paint.



Victorious and

humming menacingly,

the bees then crawled

into my ears

and my mouth

where they proceeded

to feast on their spoils and plunders:

the honey,

that they so cruelly

stole from me.



And once the honey was gone,

so were the bees,

bellies full,

antennae sticky,

their use for me

fulfilled and therefore

discarded.



III. The Spiders



The final hosts

were drawn to

what the bees had left behind:

the inconsolable emptiness

of my being,



They marked their territory

with cobwebs–

spun carelessly

into my arteries

and windpipe.



Breath dwindling and

heartbeat diminishing

I tried to remember the fireflies–

the light–

as the arachnophobia

threatened to devour me.
Penelope Winter Jun 2017
Some people are afraid of spiders
Because they've felt fangs in their skin and the venom in their veins.
And they say the way to cure it
Is to caress the eight gentle legs and learn to trust the eight gentle eyes.
Some people fear the sea
Because they've felt the air leave their lungs, believing it'll never come back.
And they say the way to cure it
Is to let one's body be embraced by the tide and embrace the love of its waves in return.
Some people fear the dark
Because they know what hides within the absence of light and they've heard what goes bump in the night.
And they say the way to cure it
Is to turn off all the lights and touch the shadows. Finding the beauty in the ignorance of what happens around them.
But you, brave soul,
Do not suffer from arachnophobia, aquaphobia or nyctophobia.
Only one terror controls your life, daring you to face it.
For you, my friend
Fear love.
Because you have been broken
Time and time again
By those who said they loved you.
And the only way to cure it
Is to fall so deeply
That you forget the spider bites, the rising tide, and to turn on the light at night.
But mostly you will forget all those that hurt you.
And your heart
Will be free
To love
Unconditionally.

- p. winter
Joe Satkowski Aug 2013
my arachnophobia sure has got the best of me today
the little ones are alive inside of my ear canals
and the mother is carefully placing her brood behind my left eyeball

i didn't ask for ice with this drink
matter of fact, let's pay it even
give me the bottle, give me a seat, and don't ask questions

well ****, the spiders really got me today
anything i put in my body they use in some way or another
all my meals only exist in webbings and eggs full of vermin in my stomach
empty walls empty room empy brain empty womb
blank page blank mind, ideas, words, thoughts I can't find
trash recycle bin I can't win those inner demons bust my teeth in

slit a wrist open a sleeve cut a vein blow my brain
insane insane in sane out of life
nothing to gain
nothing to lose
cut me open, arachnophobia, rusty, my guts slip out in a
shape
of a noose,

hanging out hanging up face down legs floating body rotating
don't stop believing

hold on
to that feeling.
Eddie May 2019
I am gay.
Gay, as in happy that I am still alive
Holding a hand, a kiss in broad daylight.
Some have lost their lives for less.

Don’t ask me, why so many violent acts begin with love.
A gentle caress or a caring word.
There is no logical reason.

Is it..fear?

Phobia is described as an intense and persistent fear.
Claustrophobia, Arachnophobia, Trypophobia.
Homophobia.
How can the love of one strike fear in another?

We use the term “in the closet”, decorating up the shadowed up life that is hiding who we are.
The closet is the best place to hide a skeleton.
Not a soul will come looking.

Put n that mask each day, go to work, talk with friends,
Always perceived as something other than the color you hide beneath.
Something normal, default.
Straight.

There is a spectrum of color running through these veins,
And all those before me, who had to fight tooth and nail to be seen.
Riots, screaming protests, pride parades under the threat of death.
Waiting with held breaths, to find out if you would be the next to die.

My mother tells me to love myself for who I am. Tells me I have a will like iron and a sensitivity thats softer than most
I am one of the lucky ones.
Leaving your safe haven that is the closet, can be like throwing a grenade.
Destroying everything in its vicinity.

Even when days get dark, I will continue on, for those who succumbed to the aids crisis, and others who have faded to oblivion.
For the thousands who died side by side,
their rags marked with a pale pink triangle.
They still live on.
In me.
In you.

So many lives lived in the dark.
A muffled cry trapped beneath neck ties and dresses.


It is time to spread those rainbow painted wings,
And fly.
alex welsh Jan 2017
More words are thrown from James' tongue
I knew he had arachnophobia
and peering from beneath my eyelids
I wished I was a pregnant spider
Lara Mari Jun 2019
To all you spiders out there,

*******....seriously. You have no business
In my house,
My room,
My bathroom. I’m scared of you
With your creepy legs and
How many of them you have!
It’s unnatural. I know I’m being hysterical
But do you know how fear works?
I have to check my bed every night
To make sure you’re not under my pillow
Or in the creases of my duvet.
I can’t breathe, sleep, relax when there is
Even the slight chance of you and your sticky webs’ existence in my room. So
Stay out, leave me alone!


Yours sincerely,
Your least favourite fan.
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2019
.there's redemption at the end of this diatribe, or so i think there is, well... whatever hector dejean could have ever done... of all the places in europe... i kinda wish i visited berlin... e.g. paris, mid 00s? the best place in the world... stockholm mid 00s? ******* closed it off, cold as a butcher's knife cutting into meat to the bone... and i know the saying: he only saw a bit of the world, only because of her... who, who's her? solo... how i pulled it off, i still don't know, how i became introverted because of the writing? that i know, i decided upon a career (insert snigger, and no " ") in drinking.

discovering a channel like
contrapoints and
shaun (salad fingers)
                        in a single day?

               sorry... no...

   the day a ****** starts to maul
its way into my head...
one ****** i can take:
two trannies?
              no... sorry...
i'm arachnophobic already...
what's another phobia
                      to do with it?

shaun: much appreciated
pedantry...
           to too came with
my own set of toys

  what's isn't chemistry
   is also not čeating...
all the major nuances
     of the english language...

but this overt-obsession
of the other with regards
to being either gratified,
or not...

      you should ask me...
'why is it that you don't
experience erectile dysfunction
when going to a brothel?'

   why a sudden concern,
interest,
              as to what men
              do, or don't do?

pet a cat,
put on a washing machine,
hang the washing
and shy away from the day
with three ciders...
   stare at a blank screen
with a blank face
and a morbid itch of anticipating
some sort of spew
from, yours truly?

   suddenly everyone is
"worried" about the leftovers?
albeit this "abortion"
   can talk back...
     or... "think" back...
because every time
i'd ******* i'd count it
          as an act of genocide...

        "loneliness":
   because i found an outlet that
bypasses...
          the editorial process
                 and is... unihibited?    
   ****, there are two of me
when there are three ciders
                                            in me...

      you know...
   i've never come across potent
left ideology,
                        until now...
****... maybe i'm also a leftist,
or: what does all of this even
                                 mean?

personally...
                        it's not saying i'm
not unconvinced,
       or i'm hallucinating
or anything...
         maybe these so-called
incels would not get
such bad press,
    if... there wasn't a problem
with ******* priests?
  and... the name
   suburban cenobite was
introduced?

  when one mental "disorder"
is... Norman...
          and all others
are...
                       Tabloid Taboo...

seriously, Matt, get your *******
head around this...
    'i'm trying, i'm trying...
but this **** is not lily *******
savage...
         translate
                   counterpoints
from behind
                 a camera lens...
to stage...
                       who's laughing?

the queer that was,
when it first started to tease
the public's taboo
                    orientation...
the current public's taboo
orientation of certain
                  negations of ease?

different ball-game...
            maybe that's why i sometimes
frequented brothels...
   best shrinks in the whole
******* world...
         but of course,
"*** slaves"...
                        oh that one time,
when i forgot to trim
my ***** hair and thought:
that would be impolite...
              so we just smooched
for an hour...
   do you even know that
they charge an excess on
the hour if you want to perform
oral on them?

       i just think of eating
raw oysters...
          
     but ***...
                do i really have to think
about it so much,
on such political terms?
     this is it... no ******* bucket
and ***** for me...
     the continual cycle of:
not-keeping-your-own-affairs-intact...

are days always like this?
by this i mean...
penetrating - my ego just turned
into a ******
  and became ****** by
        a ******-tongue / voxdo...

or maybe i'm personifying
   an atypical reaction from the actual
echelon of addressee...

               but this isn't a blaire white
hmm...
             buffalo bill -esque...
who said anything about...
   ****** bones?
    hands don't, lie...
              em, yeah...
    ***** envy...
             with a hand that can
hold a basketball?
            do all you want...
but once the hands come into play...

and then... the video of
counter point nears its end...
and i'm...
   like...
                      o.k. this could
work... consolidation...
a truce...
                  you be she
                      whatever you like,
   i'll be a suburban cenobite...
unofficial...
        but at least i will not
be some paedohpile priest...

       i needed this...
   there's still one cider left,
i hang the washing...
which included my mother's
underwear
   and i feel... insanely normie...
having just realised:

    i usually normal with this
sort of content...
       why now?
   oh... right...
   reading the sunday times'
magazines...
       and imploding from
all the disconnect from
                mainstream media...

   yet i will persist...
      what is an irrational fear
when the thing itself, in question,
is also irrational?
my arachnophobia
     is irrational...
            is the spider even
given a status of either
rationality, or irrationality?
         i'm definitely being
irrational...
   but the spider is neither
rational, or irrational...
     it's a spider...
  it doesn't have the luxury
to be irrational,
   other than it is a rational
                extension of per se...
sure, god, evolution,
                             whatever...

for so long i craved to write
something so alienating
that it makes me feel
uncomfortable...

        ah... the subject matter...
that was it...
       the death spiral,
the dodo project...
           first time... Isabella...
psychology exchange student
two years my scenior...
Grenoble...
   no...
   she really was a dream...
then there was that time
with my ex-girlfriend
from high school...
    a whole afternoon
and her *******...
later something else,
and then later something else...
months apart...
then the ukrainian *******...
then the russian bombshell...
the puerto rican
          plum in amsterdam...
a black girl
with an ***
     just about right
for my lack of ***** envy
or whatever it's called
when a black girl's ***
requires the desired tool
(i hear they're releasing
a new album, can't wait)...
then a few bulgarian prostitutes...
then a thai bisexual
(yeah, to my shock...
she was wearing a sports bra
and there was no thai
surprise in the end,
but the suspense was
killing me
   just before we did it
                       in the garden)...

details, details:
   i'm not going to suddenly
write out a hard-on...
   ****... i was starting to feed
into the paranoia of identifying
myself as an incel...

cool cool, "are traps gay"...
we're back in lily savage territory...
ha ha, always the subject matter...
     i hate that...
freaking out about something
you're not...

          it just had to come
at the right time,
   downing this third cider...
and yeah: it's sunny...
   i can't wait for the night
and the foxes...
it's mating season,
so they'll be at it
             more prominently...

          ah... the trans-movement...
the benzene ring...
and Plato's concept
   of punishment
     of men being reincarnated
as women...
or.... in this instance...
  women being incarnate
in male bodies...
            it's like: hell decided
to blah-blah its way into life...
          fun times...
            sure, and a bunch slurrs
and slurps of milkshake
from the great *** of kamadhenu...

i'm no better,
   look at me,
               drinking,
                 brothels...
                   among
the mad, the ******
                       and...
                  safe to say:
            liberated from
the pogrom of establishing
              myself as a father figure.
AiR May 2020
The whole world is in panic
The whole world is in fear!
They don’t know what the truth is
But they are zapped with what they hear

A virus has attacked us!
It is going to wipe out the world!
It is going to **** us all…
Through the media, we are told

Is it a danger, is it real?
Or is this just a myth?
As long as we live in fear
We will never realize the truth

Of course, it has killed thousands
And it’s mainly the old
The young will mostly get away
With a fever, cough and cold

The Coronavirus is a champion
It seems to have a tactic
Though many it appears to infect
But for some, it is asymptomatic


Therefore, we don’t know the numbers
Who are actually killed by the virus
There are many with heart and lung disease
Are they dying because of this?

The whole world is in panic
They think of COVID they will die
They have locked themselves in their houses
Unable to enjoy the sky

Of course, we must take precautions
And stay away from one with a cough
But to shut down the entire world
That is way off!

Fear is the cause of this panic
It is making a mountain of a molehill
Far more than the Coronavirus
It is Fear that will ****

Fear is False Expectations Appearing Real
The mind creates this thought
But once paralyzed by this panic
In anxiety we are caught

Why are we scared, why do we fear?
Why are humans given this gift?
God gave us this instinct for a reason
From real dangers, so we can drift

There are many types of fears
Some even fear a loud sound
Some fear to go up in the sky
Some a lizard on the ground!

Fear often grows into a phobia
An irrational fear of something
Dentophobia is a fear of the dentist
And claustrophobia, a crowd of anything

Some have zoophobia – fear of animals
Some arachnophobia – fear of spiders
With aerophobia, there is fear of flying
And cyberphobia – fear of computers

Finally, the question that matters most
Is fear actually real?
Fear is not a danger, fear doesn’t ****
It’s just an Expectation that Appears Real

But when fear attacks us
And fills our body and mind
The rascal makes us suffer
And makes our life a grind

Fear is not a danger
There is a difference in these two
A danger can attack us
But fear just makes us feel blue

The consequence of fear is tremendous
It can bring our life to a halt
It can stop our intellect from thinking
By just finding fault

What is the cause of fear?
This killer is caused by our mind
It makes us see what is not
In anxiety, makes us blind

But there is a way to overcome it
With courage and with hope
We must wipe out every thought of worry
Then with stress and panic we will cope

But the first step is to wipe out
Ignorance from the mind
To differentiate the mind from the intellect
Both are of a different kind

The intellect can discriminate
It can realize the truth
We must ask questions and investigate
Till we get to the bottom of the root

It is important to flip our life over
From NEP flip to PEP
From negative emotions to positive emotions
From poison to power, step by step

After all, life is a drama
On the earth stage, it’s just a show
We are all actors in this theatre
We come, but we must go

Nobody can escape death
Life is in somebody else’s hand
There is a power we can’t comprehend
That created the sky and land

Because we fear we will die
We live with such panic
We get scared of a virus
That’s truly tragic!

Fear can lock us in prison
Fear can shut life’s door
Fear can frighten us to no end
Drilling into our core

The biggest Fear is that of death
Loss of all that is known
And then a greater Fear still
What is beyond death, unknown

But Fear will make us suffer
Fear will make us sad
We must learn to overcome it
If again we want to be glad

There is a way to overcome
The ignorance caused by Fear
It happens with Realization of the Truth
Not going by what we hear

We must ask and investigate
How real is our Fear
Is it actually a danger
That’s coming very near?

Fear is an illusion
But is powerful and can ****
It can paralyze our entire life
And stop us from doing our will

Today, fear more than ever before
Has made the world come to a stop
In panic, stress, and anxiety
Forced people to shut their shop

Of course, the virus will **** a few
But all of us eventually must die
If not because of this virus
Something else will send us to the sky

So why be in panic of the virus?
We must realize the cause is Fear
False Expectations Appearing Real
Is truly causing us dear

The economic crisis that is being caused
Is far greater than the virus
But Fear is making us blind to the truth
And going in the wrong direction, in stress

Fear is making us blind
We can’t see the truth that is plain,
It’s projecting illusions that are fake
And will cause the world to be slain

Its time to realize what Fear is doing
And **** it before it kills us
The virus will come, and the virus will go
But Fear must not destroy us

If we remain ignorant of our ignorance
And live with Fear and stress
Every such virus that comes in life
Will make our life a mess


-       By AiR
AiR – Atman in Ravi, or Soul in Ravi, is an embodied soul whose only mission in life is to realize the Truth and help people realize the Truth.

— The End —