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Mateuš Conrad Jan 2020
finding gravity on a bicycle...

surely... given that most people
don't write a ******* hemmingway...
and there's no william buckley jr.
doing the interview...
and there's no norman mailer...

and that: no one really bothers
with kierkegaard and that:
kant "famously" didn't marry starry crap...
why didn't i have kids
and start a family?
uh... dunno... mother's best lie...
or the best lie a neighbour brings
with her... whenever you're
being a 2nd witness without
the 1st witness being there...

and she says an "also" with regards
to her son having the same luck
with women...
when the comparison comes:
a koala bear versus a gorilla...
bonsai tiger!
like a koala is a ******* bear
to begin with...
cuddly soft-pouch toy-ah-thing!

but there's that great feat!
finding gravity on a bicycle...
my mother helped me with that...
and that famous fail of
a rotondo... well... more or less
a cricket ground egg shaped, oval...
or a rugby ball...
the shoulder on the salto bike
hard... rammed into a car....

as a child you were supposedly well
loved...
and this is modern poo'etry i hear about?
here's to: john sounding like johny...
will sounding like *****...
richard sounding like: **** and not richy...
it's cute... matthew... matti: finnish...
leonard is: leo oh leo...
why art we all not named: Li Lo Po!

of course everyone managed to spot
the tetragrammaton vowel catchers that's
hey'zeus! no... not the bloke strapped
to the mannequin of tailoring...
oh no... not the crucifix pendulum
"for us all"... by blood... by cross...
who is to exfoliate on the crucifix...
better than some well scouted for materials
on a mannequin canvas for tailoring
a suit?
the guilt?! oh the guilt!
well... thank god this metaphysician would
never address the material realm of
enjoying a... dabble with... wool...
when donning a suit...
or leather shoes... or any presence of suede...
beside the crucifix mannequin: replica
and pittance!

- but finding gravity on a bicycle is one thing...
finding gravity when swimming is another...
it's called gravity...
but some heretical circles call it:
balance...
after all... it is both gravity...
and balance... given that while riding
a bike... or swimming...
you're pretty much sure, assured:
to not be falling...

you can find gravity with newtonian hindsight...
of sure...
that's there... it involves the magicians orbs...
copernican mathematics and...
target practice when it comes to
propaganda spew...
and Steward... the lesser... Stew...
cousin of the house of Stuart...
not Steward... Stuart...
which is (again)...
a McKiteit and MacCoddlewit...
some Glaswegian *****-donor clinic
"miss-up" mix-it: tend to...
lounging busy... which is of course...
besides the "look"...

5 bazookas cleared for a salvo!
hip hip! burger-pound!
hip hip! boom shizzle shoom!
hip hip! hooray!
oh now we'z getz uz best
partay birth doy wishy-washy
"protagonists"!

but given the current Persian affair...
i couldn't help to notice...
love actually... the narrative...
the u.s.a. and england...
the Z-spezial re-la-tion-ship...

so... who's spastic... and who's fantastic?!
spaz: B-bristolian-esque joking...
never aside...
who's the spaz and who's the frizzy-fuss?!

spe-zial mother russia talks down
to dog Kiev: yes, it's in (the) Ukraine...
spezial iz not what iz?

h'america... kept a yorkshire terrier...
media leetches of england
firmly in its grasp...
cuz onez we woz: once -
the militia contra the crown...
of north virginia...

coz b'rah: a 79-year-old man
who lit himself on fire protesting
against russia's language policies
in the capital of the volga region
of udmurtia has died;
name? alberto raisin...
which sounds terrible in its
non-native spanish...

but there's something worth of gravity
without debating
the heliocentric model...
finding one's balance on a bicycle...
a posteriori events...
but... the same balance can be
translated into a swimming session...

my god my father tried to teach me...
if i was supposed to learn
to swim in the sea...
with the fear: of not seeing the depth?
isn't that like a thesaurus
congestion of: acrophobia?
isn't there a word in the borrowed
lexicon of the ancient greeks...
concerning... fearing to swim in a body
of water... where you can't see the bottom?
i could learn to swim in a swimming
pool... thankfuly all because and due to...
moi...

i also found gravity in water...
i could... lie in water and become...
the antithesis of: the body consists
of 90% of water...
yes sherlock watson & sons... ltd...
but in water i'm mostly fat...
if i find the right balance...
i float...
which is why swimming is a bit
like riding a bicycle...
you find: the center...
or gravity...

again... in this special "relationship"
of bruv-love...
between h'america and whittle brit-pop interlude...
oasis on the continent...
my my... blur, even...
breakfast at tiffany's back in the dough-dough-us...
who is the ******* SPASTIC?
in this "SPEZIAL" relationship?
i guess the english must be the SPEZIALS...

a bit like watching:
go-go-gonzales trip up on a spelling mistake...
which is all i care for...
like a comedia...
a deviation from the informal, later,
subject of language implementation...
and all this peacocking prior...

where else does gravity allow itself...
a presence of the multi-vector?
up and down... left and right...
it's not as easily explained as:
on a ledge... with an apple...
drop it... newton with a header!
a 1-all equalizer in stoppage time
an F.A. cup re-match!

gravity on a bicycle...
it's hardly a drop affair...
gravity in water...
it's hardly merely swimming...
there's that aspect of finding... buoyancy...
there's not need for you to swim...
to exhert so much effort...
that you might as well drown 10 meters
in after swimming the 'undred...

no buoyancy: no chinese fortune cookies...
i still don't know which is more grand...
beside the acrobatics of... olympic level
acrobatics...

it's not bound to youth via lifting weights...
or supreme mao tse tung's winter olympics
of: hunger strikes in Vinter...
the gravity bound to a bicycle...
or the gravity bound to swimming...
after all... the latter is a bit "funny"...

"levitation" and buoyancy...
the dracula soundtrack:
only because of gary oldman and the composer
wojciech kilar... and the given, current...
b.b.c. spin-off and how...
yes... it's that terrible...
i don't even know where those five-stars
came from!
the archetype of feminine romance novels?
the syphilitic lover? the "vampire"?

yes, no? two guesses as good as: nein - keiner...
and, quiet honestly...
nothing could make this exercise in:
not engaging in any of all the available
comments sections on any website...
any worse... than it already is...

it comes as no surprise that: i write this poo'ems
not because i don't write poetry...
but because i will neither write
a poem by standards reserved for
pedagogy or demagogy...
or write identifiable puzzle-bog-trots of...
language reserved for politicization:
and not for... counter-marxist...
"psychiatric" post-...
hardly modern or... "today's journalism"...
eh... pushing it toward a Beckett-clause...
concerning language that is not expected...
oh but i certainly do know
a difference between formal language
and... this... the informal language...
the cognitive extension that does not
require a "free speech" protection bias...

none of this was spoken...
it was seen...
weaved into "thinking"...
that's the difference... isn't it?
from my end of the tenniscourt "promenade"
i've heard nothing but clickick...
off this dead-end replica piano
of a qwer
asdf
zxcvbnm

unless my shadow spoke... or there was some
telepathic connection
with the schizoid "group-think" of me
sourcing my sometime odd...
cognitive-murmors of "thought"...
"hallucinations"...
so be it...

this defence of a freedom of speech...
how does that even extend into writing?
i will never know...
and to be honest? i don't want to know...
writing is an extension of thinking...
which is also an inversion of speaking...
but it's never speaking...
where's the audio on this piece?!

how about... plucking your eyes out,
after fating yourself with the
original curiosity to begin with?
sounds better: than... what still persists as...
not being, said!

this was written, it wasn't said...
this is not a transcript...
this is not a transcript...
if this is censored...
then my... "schizophrenia" is not even
my original thesis of: bogus
mono-lingual parody of bilingualism...
no need to cite **** sapiens
jurisprudence advocates...
lawyers... the thesaurus bargain barons etc.
this is... what's those words they use?
invasion of the tabernacle?
do my "auditory hallucinations" stem from...
these words...
a private investement in internet access...
again: nothing is being said!
because this is a "public arena"...
a "forum"...
and the eyes on the other side of this text...
are c.c.t.v. eyes?!
not private eyes?

what's the point of freedom of speech?
when the freedom to think:
and subsequently write... is bombarded
by being who: see via reading braille...
and read... comments likes dislikes and all
those other ratios?

writing is an extension of a freedom
to think... most people who speak freely
don't speak via a precursor script...
that's not free speech: that's scripted speech!
and just because it happens be placed
in a public "forum"...
that's the argument that this writing
is a freedom of "speech"?!
really?! i guess your average u.s. citizen
is more despotic than the *******
president... then...

again.. blah blah blah blah blah...
blah blah.... blah blah blah blah blah...
blah... blah blah... blah blah blah blah blah blah...

you'd sooner convince a parrot to sing
you a song in sparrow than call this "debate"...
evenly focused on one or neither side "winning".
asdf Jul 2011
asdf
Sarah Ryan Jan 2014
My hands fly across the key board as I search around.
Not for anything in particular, just watching people cross in front of my eyesight.
A girl walking in circles in  a blue fleecy vest, talking on the phone.
I remember my father telling me the importance of leaning to type without having to look at the keyboard.
I thought he was stupid.
I thought it was silly.
I ****** at typing.
I still use three fingers only, mainly.
Pinky for the shift key occasionally.
Right ring finger for the return key.
I don’t even use the thumb for the space bar
Like you’re supposed to-
I use my right pointer finger.
I always had to endure the agony of typing with
The Box
Over my fingers in elementary school.
My best friend can recreate fond memories of a 10-year-old me
Squeezing
My eyeballs shut,
Lining up my fingers, my tongue sticking out,
Only to discover
I had typed everything
Wrong
Start over.
But having entered the college age.
I’m happy to be able to
Glance
Around
While I work.
Makes it seem like some automaton is recording my thoughts, which I don’t even have to think About as I
Consider a flowerpot full of yellow flowers…pansies?
So the poet was right.
He was always looking out windows.
Like all his poems would come streaming through them.
Bits of cloudy thoughts captured on paper, because his
Eyes were free to wander.
Silly poet.
Silly little girl.
Asdf
Lkjh
G
rachel g Dec 2012
It twirls like endless springtime ribbons
violently, though, wildly twitching
lost in midnight streaks of blue.
Also from two years ago--I've been looking through old writing.
ponny jo Dec 2011
broken man with broken hands
wading through broken lands
broken back and cannot stand
broken soul on broken bands
broken effort brings broken strength
pain breaks me for broken lengths
Jamie L Cantore Nov 2014
ohlil'elf I SPEAK magictricity
            boastsevenafter manyayear                    
                myluv TO THEE, 2b a dynamo
myheritage isasoft taleincandy apple gold
AND  THEE IS HER,  AND SHE   IS THEE, dirtdiggerdigup edgars poems; AND TO W H O  M   I  REFER.

andso COULD SHE BE oncemine
                                   protectherfromAS MUCH damage
as oncewas INTO ME itseems
AS I AM INTO HER?
we'll see
AND IF SO,  THEN THIS PLEA  FROM ME WITH   W  O  E  F  U  L  
    rocket TEAR,
                   stars WILL NOT GO TOO LONG moon
ringing UNANSWERED HERE, opalstone
iou FOR HER SILENCE HURTS,  BUT IS  inpearly gems
 R     A     R     E.

benfranklin deadseafrom SO FAR AWAY!  acrimsonsky and YET SO NEAR! even tiny bugs heedseen

we arewherewe are
  BUT I WISH YOU WERE NEARER, DEAR! indialogue
love-in-a-mist
lone BECAUSE stars
by  EACH DOMINION dawns
early ON SUCH OCCASION light
silver MUST UNWIND, streak
bombs SO AS TO burst
solely BE a sole
redredrosy  
heaven REBORN IN THE MORNING SHINE, sent
                                   RETURNING AS GLORIOUS and
mighty AND AS FRESH AS THE NEW DAY SKY, might he
repent
once AND THEREUPON SHOULDST CARRY ON upon
adream WITHOUT IMPERFECT MOAN OR a my tier
luving SIGH. ofluv

fortunate I  PLEAD WITH THEE TO MANUMIT cookie
wrench YOUR TIGHTENED CLASP chromium
calcium THAT BINDS, petalstems

ouija  heArts knoweth
asdf REST fdsa
zxcv YOUR WEARY vcxz
lkjh HEAD A BIT ON MINE, hjkl
mnbv AND EASE INTO PLEASANT REVERIES.  vbnm
yeseth                                         ­                            noeth
isitasif or asis youwillhaveme
oh AFTER ALL, THE DUSK HAS COME TO GIVE REST TO THEE, to all
pay AND I AM YOURS AND YOURS AM I  notmuchattention
to me yet
openmetoyour -I AM RESTFUL SLEEP. interpretation
Read the bold print first
read the lower case print next
finally, read it as a whole
a whole lot of mumbo jumbles!
Wrong wrong wrong
I'm so lonely
Echoes in the dark

White text on a white page
Lines that no one sees

On the dock in the dark
ON a lake in a park
Just yo uand me


Soma
Soma
Soma
Soma
Soma
Soma
Soma
I am the ******, and that is the truth
I am the ****** and that is the truth
Blain is a piain and that is the truth
(It doesn't matter what 's on the insside)

sSOMASOMASOOOMA
asdf
work, the pen crunches into the paper digging a hole into the desk the wood squeals the ink cries out the bblackness washes out in torrents
Crunching, crunching, crumbling, the pen just so many plastic splinters ground into the desk the black inik gushes out in torrents
I am a writer and that is the trueth
reach for the stars and that is the truth
You can never bbe free except within the cage
If you are free in the cage, then you can be free  anywhere
I am a poet and that is the truth
I am a poet and that is the truth
Have you imagined, the feeling of nearness? The darkness? The sighs?
Have you imagined? The feeling? the soooma, sweet soma rushing through your veins?
Tickle me, trip with me, trick me, break me
break me
break me
Break me so I can be free
Blain is a pain and that is the truth
Another hit, that'll tdo the trick, hit me hit me hit me, scooore
When you're strange, faces come out of the rain
ON a dock on a lake, in the heart of the jungle
When the far side of a mountain gobbled up wthe sun
How it gobbled up the sun
And we lay like lovers rocking irocking smoothly
While the mountains gobbled up the sun
Grooving
Bleeding across the sky, black and purple and blue, beat with bruises on the sky
Orange, then the LIGHT THERE WAS LIGHT AND IT WAS GOOD
I am good, and that is the truth

And we shared this moment like lovers, whispered in each others ears like the soft tickle of bats wings, or the delicate abraisinion of worn velvet
And you tickled my ear and I tickled thine
I am a knave and that is the truth
There are other worlds than these, and that is the truth
And you slipped the soma into my mouth and I slipped some into yours and we rode the dock on the lake by the mountains which gobbled up the sun
GNASHING with red teeth smiling GNSASHING and bashing up the sun

And we loved the stars under the covers on the dock

I am a dock and that is the truth

YOU AND ME in and eeeeeeeeendless blanket sea
That is the truth.
We watched the stars shoot the sky, and plucked them down and popped them in our mouths like soma
Oh, so romantic, with the soma stars in our eyes, fighting to get out
I am in a cage and that is the truth
Stillness, slownly, softly, dawn approches
The birds aren't yet awake
Even the sea sleeps
The hungry mountains are ssilent
TGod reached down and brushed aside the Washington clouds
Shook them out
and pulledHelios
In his golden cchariot
And my eyes, they saw you
Your face came out of the rain
Your eyes fluttered open in the maginifcencec
THThe golden glow upon your brow
The soft, soft warmth

ANd my rainy blanket sea revery was shattered
By the beating of the feet of the runner who was burning, screaming, waving, frenzied, flyind, fleeing, crying, screaming, truly screaming

The form sprinted from the shore, pitter patter, pitter patter, the bare feet burning, smacking on teh pine dock
Pitter patter
the flames ROARED
screaming
flailing
leaping into the air
tshe flung herself off the dock
into the water
went out with a hiss
That is the truth.
Soma.
I wrote this with white text and no spellcheck so I couldn't see what I was writing at all. I really like it because it's more raw than anything I could write if I was concerned about spelling or seeing what I was writing.

Inspired by:
- Brave New World
- Soma by Steve Roach
- American ****** (movie version)
- The Wastelands by Stephen King (Dark Tower Series Part III)
- "It Will Follow the Rain" by The Tallest Man On Earth
- "People are Strange" by The Doors
- The Gunslinger by Stephen King
- "Endless Blanket Sea" by me
- "The Day Begins" by The Moody Blues
- "My Eyes Have Seen You" by The Doors
Life's a Beach Nov 2014
So, When I Die,
burn up my remains
Wipe away a single drop of your pain,
safe in the knowledge that I got in
that One Last Pun
(Ash turned to Ashes)
Smile, because this ****** won, in
death, this one small way, she didn't
have to pay the reaper with her
humour. In this small way I'll get
to stay.

When I Die, don't give a **** about what you say,
Swear at me, hate me, bait me, but please remember me
as I lived. Remember my ability to give a snort
instead of a laugh. Remember when I
took a bath in every item of clothe,
remember how I could make a cove to
hide in out of anything. Remember
how I'd curl myself in and cry or
laugh until I sobbed.

When I die, try not to think about me as being 'robbed'. Instead,
remember me sleeping under chairs,
and catching people unaware, with
sudden, unprovoked song.
Remember me acting 'wrong': my chicken impression,
the monkey one too, recall how I could meow
and hiss and moo.
Let my lovers remember how I could
kiss while I grinned. How a girl so saintly could
sin so wrong.
Recall me, darlings, when I belonged; and
when I belonged to you.

and When I die, there will be no spewing over
empty words, I want beautiful vowels and verbs
and songs, if you have to long for me, then do it
while listening to Marley, listen to love,
listen to the mood.
Be lewd:
If you want to mosh then do it, if you want to
dance then try to feel it; the way I'd always
do.

When I die, cover yourselves in biro tattoos, turn
up to the wake caked in face paint, draw all the
way up your left arms,
None of you ******'s are allowed to self harm
So draw a cat with a halo and say no
to sensible shoes. Choose to wear whatever you like,
don a dress like a kite and blow up
all the balloons

When I die, I'm gonna have to stop
joining in all the fun.
So, please, never feel 'done' with joy.
Act coy.
Play with toys and teddies, if you
don't feel 'ready' to mature, then
don't. It won't help you to
feel happier if
you do.

When I die, still think of something purple
and something blue.
Make sure, at my death, that those things
are there too.
Don't hate me if you find out
something new, I never
aimed to hurt.

When I die, take a handful
of me, and set me safe in a stone, or
a goblet or cup…It doesn't matter which, but
I'd like the words "Level Up"
engraved for eternity
(Keeping ASDF with me, for yet
another century).

When I die, take a deep breath and start another war.
I lived by the law of no regrets, and (look at that!) you're not
dead yet; so try to follow that law too.

Remember, when I'm dead, just how much I loved you.

So when I die, put me in a firework
So that I can clash colours one last time,
Read out my rhymes, the good ones
and the hard ones (Maybe this one too!) once I'm gone
It's time that everybody knew.

And, once I die, let my memories stick
like glitter lain on glue.

*And put me in a firework and watch me glow anew
LGY Apr 2020
Boomzzz tikki tikki tikki
Wah Wah oomphz oomphz
me 69 ******* on yo momma and yo sis
Dr Weedlord ain't got time your hissy fits
dunk dur *** all over yo ****
Slap *** and go on reighding
Daddy Boozhead  banging on your meemaw
asdf hu asdofh u asdjfnhau sdfh unh

p.s no women are harmed in the making of this production
Ted Scheck Feb 2014
Sleep Izzz
S
Sl
Sle
Slee
Sleep
Sleep is
Falling in
Love sleep
Pretending I’m
Dead tired, Recharge
Rechargeable batteries
Little boy inside protests;
“Mommy I’m not tired I’m
Not
ZZZ

Sleep is practicing
Eternity without
God loves us
Infinitely
Sleep
ZZZ
ZZ
Z

Drugs
Caffeine, the
Enemy of Sleep
Nitrous oxide injection;
Heart rate motor revving
Wheels spinning directionally
Nowhere, driving my desk around
Curves and straightaways, skidding;
Waking the ADD child inside me
Dilated pupils and superhero
Fingers pirouetting, dancing
Across ASDF keyboards
As I translate the
Indescribably
Abstract
Ideas
Of
I

I’m Sleepy
Want to
Sleep!!
Sheep
Yawn
ZZZ
ZZ
Z
Mohd Arshad Oct 2018
The hands
Of Good are swords;

Evil can't put it to death in any situation!
Brandon Jun 2012
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R$@Q#fkknBR0oksf;;hg-03 akljrw aer#@$w98a s789 *   wekl ew


The point is
To always write
Even if it's nonsense

— The End —