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Jose Remillan Nov 2013
Panginoon mo ang
Panganorin. Bertud
Ka ng hubad na diwata.

Likhang-isip, halukipkip
Ng wika, pedestal ng
Luha, ikaw itong kalahatan

Ng kasalatan ng unawa't
Awa ng hangal na madla.
Samut-saring anyo't samyo

Ng opyong bumabawi ng
Bait at hinanakit sa buhay
Ngunit masugid na patrong

Naghahasik ng biyaya
Sa anyo ng

bote
pakete
lata
spaghetti
langaw
lumot
bangaw
ipis
lotion
co­ndom
burak
darak
barya
kariton
prosti
sutana
artista
politiko
pul­is
tsismis

                       atbp.
Harvard University
Boston, MA
November 3, 2013
isang hawak na di ginusto
nagsimula sa panghihipo
pag iisip mo'y kasing dumi
ng burak sa estero
nalilito natutuliro
magsasalita ba ako?
kapangyarihan mo'y inabuso
ginamit para bumango ang pangalan mo
para maitago mo ang halimaw na nagbigay ng lamat sa buhay ko.

Isang gabi! isang gabi lang!
nadurog ang pagkatao ko.
kinulong mo sa madilim na nakaraan tulad ng pagkulong mo  sa akin
sa madilim at maliit na kwartong iyon
mabilis ang pintig
naririnig bawat kabog ng dibdib
paralisa ang katawan
di makasigaw
tulong! tulong! mga salitang tila naipit
sa aking lalamunan.

halik na di ko ginusto
yakap na di ko hiniling sayo
mga hawak sa aking katawan
nandidiri ako sayo
seksuwal na panghahalay
di ko nararapat pagdaanan

lamat na di malilimutan
lamat na mananatiling parte ng nakaraan
di mo na ko maapektuhan
ang lamat na bigay mo
ang aapakan ko
ang magiging boses ko

para maparating ang mensaheng ito

walang sinuman ang dapat makaranas nito!
walang sinuman ang dapat mabuhay ng may takot mangyari ulit sa kanila ito.
walang babae ang mahahalay base sa kanilang pananamit, kilos o pananalita.

ang lamat na bigay mo,
andito man ito
pero di na ito hadlang
sa muling pag ahon ko.
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2016
Stelios said ι (iota), while Burak said ı (mini 1)
with missing diacritical dot
allowing him to sprechen omega (/ɯ/ \ ω)
| bent and . running off into
another parabola - Geminis
formed - then another dot
appeared, linguistic arithmetic
that's Turkic ï - when drawing
a straight line from y = x you only
need two points - ï = x squared -
hence the ɯ / ω -
Diyarbakır - sometimes known as
                                           diyarbakeer
                                                           "" (optional)
of the umlaut factor - umlaut on o (ö)
variant of omega;
post-existentialists would never ditto
out or pass-on words filled with meaning
to provide the Pilate ambiguity -
post-existentialists put stresses on sound -
why someone from East London
will never speak Queen's English -
" " = encapsulating ambiguity and freedom
                                           from morality -
" = how it was said prior, also know as tradition,
      or keeping with                                         "        .
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2016
pre-scriptum: zapisałem sie... jutro wyśle zdięcia... fatalnie zakochany w tych grotach.

jak by mnie myślnym / myśliwym tokiem myśli nie chcieli równać z sobą to bym odmówił, lecz nadali film wedle Sokratesa, a ja Anglikom odmówie, bo chcem, nawet po kurz Mongolii, mam dość tępych Irlandczyków! przeciąg mnie dusi! te wyspy to wyryty gnój Ameryki.

te zdzięcia zbyt kuszaące - jak już powiedziałem pewnej dziewczynie na internecie... nie sprzedam mojego głosu jeżeli mi nie zaplacą! a nic nie dali, jeno gówno! to powiem je w gromadzie takich co mówią na migi - jak ten co z pochodnią na wejście smoka a poszedł trysta razy! zapominieć mówienia po polschu (ja niby Żyd, w Buenos Aires? no, niby post-Holocaust, to takie tango a nie tanz Bar Mitzvah w aleii Golders Green) - jak jedna: wiem skąd burak jest jak niby pochodnią nad ziemi chwytem w otchłan piękna i stokrotki... czyli: co jabłoń da, to róża odbierze, piękno niby było jadalne, a owoc ten jadalny był pięknem, który nigdy nie odda cierpieniu zacmienia, a jednak ponownie, ponownie, ponownie; jednak nadal w wstecz na gre: ojczyzna! ojczyzna! z agrafką po to by odnaleść tą sfobodną szlachte naszego rozbroju: co znaczy życie nasze a ich jeno kichnięńciem, księcia, ktoóry ksiądz imitacją ochlał wedle vino veritas!

kurwa! kartoflana gleba tłumaczenia Joyce'a!

Londyn to ino klejnot Arabii, tu nic nie rośnie, jeno głab czyli muzg kapusty, to znaczy oklask Mensa... nie?!

te zdzięcia i ja to jak ramie w ramie ze złudną imprezą za tą Ostanią
czyli mortum fatali

jak Narcyz wpatrzyłem sie w nie i myśle by nawiać na wyspy Owcze czy też Mongolie, zdala z tej lachy "swiata" i ludobójstwa ekonomicznego, wkoło mnie tylko wieprz gra na wiolonczeli, i tak dobrze gra że motłoch nie zna falszu od falsetto, jeno udaje na tle cytatu psa mówiącego: sausages! sausages! how! how!

więc wole w tych lochach odbytem powiedzieć co Zachód zna jako rękopis mojej zdrady, bo ja tu następnej i tej cholernej minuty wole w Syberie gnać, z duchem czy bez ducha... Gangrene Green... mysli tu jakiś z Essex'u tuman że Rzym odlalazł bez akcentu na literach; bo tu każdy pyta czy jest szalony czy tylko napisał Alicja w Kraine Czarow i Pedofilii.

post-scriptum: czemu nie piszom Řešów? bo im škoda? Wojewoda Prostanoga ptija - bo to po Ruszku pyta... a cygan... to znacy chyba. Holender i stare smieci... ale boli kiedy powrót stanowi więcej niż tempus lux.
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2017
chór! i duch!
               blady... rym...
ale i też wygoda powrotu
jako niby żyd... bo
te paluski... i ten *lajkonik
...
kiev w warszawie... na
tym tle: bo to gwar gadania
i autobus w pizdzie nocy i
zimy... ceka... ceka.

   o bodziem...
  punk kot w czekam
i czoło i glebe i rys islamu,
   i szkło skalu w czaszke
i gołote... i ten... pierdolony kosciół!
goły... naked...
         the cat weighs about 10 kilograms
i'm obviously going to head-**** him
to say good morning...

rrrrrryb ah! koscioł! groto i smród!
rekąpis!                   ryba! flu flu flu!
oj tu: pingwin sie zgina! huj! bra!
   tu! zeżre te polsche... te polsche...
zerwie z nią... bo co?
jakie narodziny mam, "celebrować"?
ja na typ o motłoch? baba?!
taki typ by na miet i slóp -czysłav?!
pats! prostak z... miasta...
  chleba mało... tsa zebrać...
seplień seplień se o se: nago
      i choroba... gniew... grób;
padaj! jak gwóźdz w trumne
czy tam gówno w toalete...
       tsa u... tu com sa, tam com sa...
ja na wygnań!
        ja wygnany, co mi te poloki?
półtłoki? boli, nie? zyh poza granicą,
tam, dam ci kwit i... kćuka!
                 kćuka! na witaj huju!
potem -senką: za casów Herod'a...
  co sfe: pio... senką; taki tanz: oi! ola ola o!

taki zemnie polok, jaki ten
pierw żyd, co pyta:
  
  pytam... bo czekam...

(choir and [the] ghost).

    warto pytać, oto wiem że o nic nie czekam
(nie czekam o nic... po? nie czekam o nic...
po prostu czekam; tak tak, nic nici nić nitka nikt;
kurvfa shoelaces... you ******* deaf
or watching kochaj albo rzuć?       );
tym warte pytać of -zyk-
kiedy nie w... kraju...  or-zelek... or-zelek...
              taki kwaśniewski co tylko sepleni...
blah blah blah... potem na gniew
vay vest vey kal it a p-cle... susumber: or cueue...
         oi oi! wrona! hej! wrona!              co tam?!
eh, ten rojs siber tesz popierdolony...
rrrrreeee lee, wrona! co tam?
o kurva... terz troche... mmm uhum... mm... eh?
   is bez powrotu... taki... niby...
dobry fason i wybór słów
    jako dobry wójek... po glebie jak po
grzbiecie psa
...
ah ten pysk.... taki dobry pies
mógł być, a potem, nagle, naturalnie:
wściek! pyska... harem! harem!
         harem! grypa! grypa! ugh!
                                golem!
    co tam wyrośnie, to tam nigdy nie było...
ani cebula co płacze, ani
           burak któremu zęby
   wypadają...
      oś? czy... osa? i z tym językiem
bez tego języka gwarancji?
            taki jam obcy...
   ja nawet obcy gadać obcym... do perfekcji...
jaki to musi być nud... aby było
              jak to musi być, skoro jest?
    last time i checked... pretty **** awful.
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2017
a bit like walking to a shop
for a bottle of whiskey,
while simultaneously paying
attention to the undertakers
and their coffin limousines
and a hapless old man
  peering into the notion of a selfie
strapped into a car seat
with a wish for a crash-mannequin
helmet...
  thinking: ****! the ***** that's
death has finally found me!
       i've realised that losing
the plot means so much more than
acquiring one,
given that the essential plot
is a Houdini act of mortality...
i like toying with the unrest
of eternity, i joke with it rather than
allow it to comfort me...
   and how was god disproved?
not by words alone,
20 dead bodies in mass shooting...
******* can say ****.
       there's always subtle tier of
drinking hiding beneath a layer
of chill and: something or other...
the best comedy, i've learned,
is derived from agitating apathy,
english (of course) -
ridicule!
                only the english have
attained the sort of numbness that
respect cordiality of the formality
beyond ****** relations -
            the sort of exemplified
"rationalisation" of individualism as
a continuum worth: jack ****!
blah blah bl'eh bl'eh blow
up the 100th ******* balloon!
   i can go on for days,
i'm that good at playing the ridiculous
englishman sensing...
  ****, the 60s and the 70s
nibbling onto the 80s have just ended,
minding the 19th conundrum of
what i'd rather call:
ever get dry ****** by a perverted dog?
   that protruding elongation
of the tender pink of a dog's phallus?
little ****** could make a great elf,
considering the fact that he
wrapped his paws around my leg so
tight that i started thinking about tripod
abominations...
          i'd ******* that crucifix
any day of the week...
mind you, he's the only jew i'm allowed
to hate...
                      if the jews hated him...
what's the logical conclusive remark?
  kneel and **** him off?
     muslims are already doing ****,
while the jews are left headbanging by
the al-buraq... burak?
  burak is slavic for beetroot...
    well, slam your forehead that many
times against a brick wall and you're bound
to get a visible tattoo of an expanded
bindi...
           or that thing called a: hárū -
see? diacritical markers ease up the fluidity
of syllable incisions.
     i still think a mere thought
would suffice to pay homage,
  than this **** of acceptable gesticulation...
religion, nothing short of sleepwalking
or an attempt at reading braille,
  drunk beyond hope,
                  maybe it's a magic trick
they're trying to pull off...
             hocus pocus andromeda focus...
got to give it to them,
   the logic of woman is the logic
of a god, hence theology -
which is never a love of,
                    no wonder philosophy
is underrepresented by women...
giving the culminating plateau-zenith
that's feminism...
                           women best
adhere to a god for they already possess
the circus of: being within being -
        pregnancy...
                  man, that barren creature,
can only hope for an imitation comparative,
when infested by a, tapeworm.
oh yeah, and that added: oops.
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2018
pierdole, jade do Turka, bo inaczej ni-ma rady: pospolicie, czyli na pszysięge: klnąć! nad to:  ścisk ‘zora, o! tyle! gleba!  ścisk - tym ‘zorem siekać, i u-ci-sss-kać! no to dopić: pod ten brak  šatana - tego Ukrainskiego atamana - brak mu ręki - bo na ścisk - jak to mówie: cisza - szmer i śmiech! a to wiadomo czemu tak auto-matem iota ma główke - czemu nie ćιsza, jeno cisza? a no, dla tego! ja nie prosie by tak prosić na gotowe! a tu wysłane! cygan z dywanem perskim, a i tak nie wygoda! bo czemu kropka nad ι‘otą? a bo sie czyta Spinoze i sie pyta: nad literami grawituje tym pytaniem. - to też znaczy: poza lewą nie wie co prawa ręka robi - bo to oczy czytem jedno, a zór lepi drugie - kto by domyślił sie inno turkie ğ to jak ‘glika ha, ha gag - ab surd! grav’ niet kā’ron! bo i tak: śmierć metafizyki jest nowo-narodzonym szczylem (ščylem) ortografii - czyli dwa razy po krótkie i - jakby jota - głucho puste widzi-mi-sie (brakujący ogon, czytem: diabł ma rogi - a zatem: pytń  o ‘gon... jom ci pszepisze Ajrysza Finnegans Wake, tym bogatszy, a przy tym powiem: pierwsza cegła pod ten mur: al-buraq - czyli ten burak - czyli, die rotebeetemauer - jebaniec poniemiecki, jeszcze mu mało pożyczonych słowików... cirp ci kuźwa dam’nom, bedzie bi-da! bi-da! kozmopolitan tylko górali i szkocki akcent bawi na lublu... to cie kurwa zabawi, prędzej dziób pingwina skryje sie w moim łokciu, jak i dąb na tle mojej dłoni! pije, pali, konia wali... w imie ojca i syna, i duchownictwa szarańczy. post / pre scriptum: wolno myślący człowiek nie ma teorii ego, jeno mape, nie algebre o ten niedosyt znaka X - dawym imie - dycha! co pincet znaczeń, dycha! nie nie, aby podpis analfabety - tzn. X i ego, ** i superego, *** i id - tzn. to tamto, owanto. wu czy u - czy wiem i nie wiem, czy: kiedy piszesz i wydalasz cieć klaustrofobii - czyli: chłopie nie pisz jak plotnik fobii jesteś - ad abstractum - od nowa: Zyd na Gestapo - pewnikiem nie żaden: Brzeczyszczykiewicz - schusza - jakby odwrót: syty - szyschkami - šon - ko-kurwa-konery! jebudjed; budujem? da da... ja ni kocham tybi ty ni koi me. a to co? działa NA-WA-RO-NE-SO-LA-TI-DO. ponownie - sprość: ğnome - ğnostic - cisza nad gje.*

i to prawda,
   ta Grecja...
       kołyska zachodniej
cywilizacji -
   tzn. bahory,
      młode gówna:
   kakaшki -
lecz! Virgil i co Turek dobrze
wie... Grecja? nuda
i szambo murmur
w Edenie pirackim zwanym
Loon-dyn...
       bo ci powiem co ci powiem
a ci powiem jak Zagłoba -
   tym bardziej kochać
jak czerni syn w pieśń nad góry ‘niem:
   Bo-***! mój to ulubieniec.
           pisz wiersz ‘ciupki -
maciupki paniczku -
   pisz wiersz po każdej
książce...
              a co w Polsce?
meandry uczuć!
   tak, tak, z babcią ci powiem
nie o Greckiej piekności -
powiem ci o Turkeckiej -
    - co, za... SIKSA!
- i sam bym głowe w ogniste dupsko
diabła wsadził po modłach przed
ołtarzem nie jednej iskry Aten
                          blednącej -
   w tamtą strone jedzie w czern
ubrana żałobą piękna -
w pół kroi sie Ukraina i Grecja...
a tam, tam w post scriptum
Byzantina - siedzi wicher serca
cerkiew i meczet cukrzynka -
martwe to morze, morze,
martwe, lecz nie sól inno cukrem
lśniące błoto, jakby
   z Szanghaju *** świnski -
   córa dla starego i młodego -
Sühan - Sühan - Sühan Tuğba -
     po nią znów 100,000 łajb płynie -
dawna Troja -
  bo ci powiem co ci powiem -
     Turk nie Muzułman -
po Alim drugi - godny sfat Pers'a -
bo jak nie - Turk u progu Europy -
nawet i ja na podziw przed
    obchodem Kaab'y siedem razy
motłochu wart ogląd szkarabu -
i ten słodki adhan -
           bo dla szczoła śpiwać to
na marnie -
     boli też pruch po tych starych
bakach pośmiewiska papistwa...
   jebana kurwa mać w koło to samo -
nie wiem jak, ale
    wolałbym zdradzić chrzest
niż go przyjąć -
           ponownie -
ale jeno pod chorągwięm Turka -
jako janczar -
         chociaż tam jest: śpiew!
a nie, dzwon, dzwon w głąb 'pusciany!
czy też krokiem: kra kra krasnoludy!
fu!
     gorzkość i brzydota!
          mówie! Turek po łacinie
zacina? zacina - alfa-kurwa-becik
po jakiemu? nie po Ł'cinie
godnym Lwowa?
           z Turkiem moge, bo sie
chce, on i tak już lizał Bałkan
   i prawie zawstydził Wiedeń!
    ale to ciwilizowany Pan,
         bo umnie ubrać i nawet
pozwoli wypiç kiedy kości wychodzą
z ciała ogrzać cień!
     o tyle lepszy -
jaki przy Turku z Troją w ręku
i przy Perskim stygnięciu jest
ten prostak Arab...
     a jak im sie skończy czarny glut
to będa eksportować pioch!
    już wiem gdzie,
         na plaże Albionu!
             i tyle powiem -
   o Turka warto byłoby zdradzić -
bo skąd inne, piękniejsze od
  Greczynek niż ciup-ciup pijące
         wróbelki z nad Bosforu?
   Turek drugi Ali i trzeci podział
Izlamu - bo wkręt Ł'ciny -
             i tym też -
               sfoboda -
                 tym też dawny Byzan -
i Troja - i co jak nie Rzym -
        ostatni kalif -
                    i tym Arab w świecie
jak Żyd -
          ale o tym mniej od Żyda -
bo to bogacz na wielblądzie który
nie tylko nie może sie zmieścić przez
oko igły, a co też nie może
zmieścić sie w swe portki!
Mateuš Conrad May 2021
for those yet, imagining themselves alive...
i "kwa'ight"....
quiet... quite...
         acquitted...
if there's a rock to be lived
under:
i'll just be the rock... i once had a faint
notion that i was alive...
i had what might be congested in a summary:
a thirst... a willingness...
summary and all those
broken things... "things"...
within the enraged solo
projects of solipsists...
self-"betterment" up a cul
de sac... has... infiltrated my
breathing: crease... count in german:
eins zu zehn
jeden do dziesięć...
   kurwa jebana mać...
poor traffic... thd ******* blinkers are
on... a turning right done awry...
ein(s)... one... jeden...

eine ein eins jeden raz one
zwei dwa two
drei trzy three
vier cztery four
fünf pięć five
(pięść is a denotes a fist... a faust)
sechs sześć six
sieben siedem seven
acht osiem eight
neun dziewiendź nine (nein nein)
zehn dziesięć ten....

mind you...
be drop the pointless diacritical marker
on the iota... we'd see more "punctuation"
markers: where, otherwise: we wouldn't...

i congested myself with counting
in three languages to somehow...
ease-up...
ten? informant: he / him!
ta? informant: she... shimmy(?!) her's...
hisses of his'...

i will not bring the Iberians into
this discussion...
what's left, though? scraps
of language and language policing...
******* and bells...
twang... death to the ditto... blah blah:
bleach and mythological blondes...
scraps i do one job good for you...
most... better... will not trace lineage...
no smear...

          t"they" never think less of
the Yugoslavs... i'm tired of being a punching bag of a people...
of all "people": the Irish not 'ard enough to
challenge the English have to find...
come the Soviets come the Nazis simultaneously...
looks like integrating into English society
didn't allow me to forget...
this zunge doesn't erase the ******* blows...

rich, though... no surprise that the Reesh
would squander and throw their *******
potatoes like monkey **** at...
oh i guess: shelved "life"... peoples...
if i were living back among my brethren...
i don't think i'd be living at all...
what would i do with not being
agitated concerning... minor... qualms?

the ******* leprechauns... priests...
are less than the english...
but are somehow tier above the pollacks?
it's no offence when it sounds proper...
in a foreign babble...
dzida...

          i'd just ask the Eire son...
so... ahem... where's your ******* Celtic?
gone... non-existent?

aon, dhà, trì, ceithir...
   còig (what's wrong with co'ig?)
sia,
seachd, ochd... naoi... deich...
so the grapheme CH = X of greek origin...
a ******* hark?

the Irish like the ******* Arabs...
the British did this to: oos...
it's impossible to live with these
go-to-party "solipsists" to begin with...
integrate? into... or for what?
rot? that's a-plenty...
but when some spaghetti monsters
and those potato jargon-fiddlers start
their usual **** about a fellow
european people...

it's not like the Croats or the Serbs are
ever mentioned...
they vent to h'america and youz zee...
zese irish and italliano guinnea pig-me-ups...
kwoss-eyed... you know...
best bitterest better...
inbreeding... takes a chunk of coal...
chalk and cheddar...
mustard...

  inbreeding mentality... superiority complexes...
no reimagines parmesan cheese like
it's not... shredding... old skin
off of heels...
talk stinkiny witchy with a missing R...
this massive ******* gloat of "riddle"...
that suppose: it's also a man...

       while the world... "also" happens...
these little: belittling interferences...
as if we were all supposed to be crowned kings
or queens... it's not that i'm even elevated
above these concerns...
but that i must have them...
must: if i were a king... i most probably wouldn't
even entertain the sense of hearing
on their existence!

in a society of sociopaths and solipsists...
a massive get together
of protest happens once in a while...
i get drunk and dump ****** words
onto paper...
i'm not alone in this "adventure":
yet i'm beginning to be...
more and more sorry for having
such... indigestions to sorrow over...
moral relativism is out
in the words of the choicest
of the choiciest...
   i'm looking for something beside
the superlative adjective: choicest...
the diminutive "concern"...

which doesn't exist in english...
and i can't exactly introduce it using my:
mutterzunge either...
correct spelling?
look at it... choiciest vs. choicest...
the most most choosey...
to pick of calculus exponentially incremental
details of observable shifts...
the exponential aspect of detail...

how many of the Irish still speak
their Gaelic...
apparently there's a Scotch version
of the tongue...
but... the Scots will not speak it...
completely submerged in their union...
they'll just exfoliate in how distinct
they are from a Loon'don'er
speaking the same language...
you could probably rewrite trainspotting
using that linguistic language
embedded in the dictionary
of:

   how i met your mother, the mute...
/ (haʊ) /
       / (aɪ) /
                 / (mɛt) /
               / (jʊəp) /
                               / (ˈmʌðə) /,
                        / (ðə) /          / (mjuːt) /

i wonder... and what if we started writing
like this? proper... phonetically...
like linguists?
the side note of /(x)/ though...

the written word is doubly ambiguous...
to the point of no return concerning
the sufficiency of its practicality of use...

ʃeɪk  ænd
                ˈʃætə...

if i had the time and *******' worth of
writing a poo'em like a linguist...
if i had more love for the Irish...
sowwy... all love spent on the Scots...
from these Isles at least...

sheikh who? shake your: *****?
that's ******* fwank zapp'ah...
      
but it's not that... i have qualms with
the Irish over the stature and seriousness
when occupying the "underground"...
i won't rap: god forbid i...
"**** someone": my catchphrase
wouldn't be:

allahu akhbar... it would be that teutonic chant
of: gott! mit! uns!
if that Norwegian hyper-smart terroroist
chanted those words...
what words? these words:
gott! mit uns!

   but around these isels...
you'd think there might be a sense of solidarity...
among the catholic irish and the
catholic poles...
but no... tępy ajrysz...
  blunt-irishman...
                  one side arguing for the other sides
dislodging of "i.q."...
same with those spaghetti swindlers...
the...

mind you... ****** is not a racial slur...
it's actually better to denote a pole a ******
since... not kinh john: lackland...
the whole hiss-tow-stowwy...
i'm not pole: positioned...
i'm not...

    divorced from "my" people:
and the "mother" land...
                  Warsaw the last great end-venture...
keeping it up...
mawa: little old gone...
         in the hunch fabric of
lessening the diaspora approach...
you don't think i mind the missing links...
when there's a collected agenda for the purpose
of a purge of the intelligensia...
now... because only the Jewry suffered
a historical lineage of tonguies
towing complaints....

         **** it: the russian sayingly... newly invented:
**** me?! ******* too!
but in the english realm who's the lesser
******* among the polacks and the irish?
who's less gingerbreadman?
my side... most probably...
how will we ever let the 20th century become
past?
oh **** me... we will need another
war... but chances of that are...
sort-of-slim...

             no? it might begin with:
bypassing loan-words...
and how self-help gurus and famous psychologists
refrain from infiltrating lost hybrids of
focus, that there might be a clearaance to
discover society outside the realm of pop!
saavvy?
i don't like this...
psychological testimony of:
what's an alpha male?
not me... what's a beta male?
not me... what's a malaise?
what's an omega man?
everything that an alpha male is...
in that... there's an antonymous discharge
of needs... requests...
demands...

how many Irish still speak their...
diego / alfonso magic "whisker" ****?
that ******* Gaelic?
so much for aardvark "typo" in Scotch...
because it just so happens...
you speak an over exfoliation of lettering...
the aesthetically bogus: claim of...
no... no "originality":
i'm not even going to bother the higher
tier of diacritical markers to
instigate "something"...

but this whole: i'm a lesser "european" when
it doesn't suffice in north american parlance...
i'm sort of... em.... ******* bothered?
history seems to be a lesson
in teasing small-**** and the infinite
summary of infancy... last time i heard...
because the Mongols never made it to... "x"...
because the Turks never had ownership of Vienna...
because it took both the Nazis and the Soviets
to make me bow...
in England? the invention of snooker...
tennis... football... rugby...
bored people... obviously...

how: else: woudln't you have capacity...
need... to invent so many coliseum...
distractions to mind: and take seriously...
if you knew: you were an island dwelling folk...
and you staged your pride in not being
invade-prone...
a bit like the whole of east London's
pakistani-land...

wake up 40 years from now... from...
little bengali land...
the Pakistani grooming gangs of the supposed...
while i'm getting more and more irrritated
by paying for ***...
having Bulgarian ****** pretending to be
Romanian....
you see the grit in my use of teeth that aare never used to
nibble and conjure...
a "drying of bones"?

i will complain about the Irish as i will about the
tail-tan'ohs...
******* spaghetti slurppers...
we of the same European origins and the same
brain-drain... because the anglo-saxons
fiddled out a mechanism for...
a "coming together"... of...
a people... just like germany was confederated...
into a federality...
wow!

  the pope receding... on paper...
the Irish make complaints against the Polacks...
the Irish demean the Polacks...
nice nice... here's to me equipping myself with
Haitian "nouns"...
you, *******... ginger: knuckle-fiddle-numb...*****!
what Celt wishes himself to have
a Cyrillic ancestry?! almost all...

have your little i.r.a. memento...
       i'm only concerned about
a pomeranian, conrad... quest...
aren't the czechs / hungarians locked into
that... posit of being: without an access to
a "window"... hardly... that the baltic...
already is... Samaritan....

porsch monkey: among the slurrs... "poet"...
pshek in... denotative lingo...
it's a: thank you...
i call you worse:
    karot... burak... syberik....

thankful though: it's hardly a slur...
king John was known as lackland...
given the shrinking of the Angevin empire...
thus "we"... shrunk to the duchy of warsaw:
a satellite of Napoleon's ambitions...
then the Warsaw Pact...
pandering to the Bolsheviks...
blah blah: now more pandering to
woke ha-ha-h'americanacancan...
the mythological blonde: always on my mind...

the first words in my language
they managed to speak and they somehow managed to
call it a slurr... and polish: paul-leash isn't?
pole position, heading north?

say strawberry in ******?
TRU-S-KAWKA...
     paul's on a leash of nibbling on the quarters
and halves of would be barons of pandemonium...
we were teenagers once...
and once upon in an Ilford mall...
we bought compact disks...
rival schools... fugazi...
coal chamber's dark days...

  those where somewhat architecture days,
though...
you can't make this **** up...
you probably have had to live it, sort of.

- otherwise who can't forget the flight of the Jewry
from the area...
once there was a makeshift synagogue on
Coventry Rd.,
now there's a 7th day evangelical war band
gathering pulpit... source...
i was expecting a mosque: in all honesty...
it's a common suggestion:

now first comes the flight of the Jewry...
the whites are somehow 2nd...
but as i explained to my mother today...
i feel sick in a monochromatic...
homogeneous society...
i went to Cheltenham once...
to hussle my own self-published book...
i felt ill seeing so little minority
representation...
it's not like i'm brainwashed...
but among these minorities in Loon-dune
i'm a ******...
back in Warsaw i'm a feral animal...
among "my people" i'm zero-punkt-zero-nic...

the vagabonds of the world decide to congregate
in Loon'don... for some reason: ulterior or
altogether "other"...
the world has congregated:
is this still about the English having their
nationhood infringed?
perhaps from a perspective
of the Midlands... Birmingham...
but over 'ere...

funny that... i live in England...
but i probably interacted with more Irish
and more Scots than the supposedly
demographically first...
i probably encountered more Pakistanis too...

so what's the difference between
a Samaritan and a Sarmatian?
you're running? i thought i ran...
i might run... who's running?
is it raining?
is that... ****'ite iconoclasm?
sign me up...
            
but living among the Irish who are
not living in Ireland...
a tired old bunch... sometimes...
it's hard to fathom their identity crisis
since a whole swab of them
spoke a zilch of Gaelic...
it's like with these over-impressed
succcess stories of "integration"
from olive-pound land /
****** copper...

the parents want to integrate...
that **** backfires...
the grandson retains the tongue
to his grandma to speak
back to her her native...
yet his... "in-between"... "integrational english"
becomes a sick joke: stereotype...
almost a cul de sac accent...
the sort that has to breathe into a phrase:

oi oi! bown and bwead!
  em... bone and bread?
how does that work?
i guess it must work "miracles" from places
where the ingestion of gelatin is
foreign... transcending "foreign":
too alien to compose...

yes... detailing the promises of pork, pig...
the most economically sound
animal: beside the hoofs...
you can utilise almost... "almost": all of it...
one way of the other...
an animal that can never be a waste:
unless you're into dabbling into a cannibalistic diet...
plus... lamb... lamb: *******: stinks...
the aged lamb...
plus... how would you herd pigs...
pigs aren't herded...
it's a theological anger at...
camel-jockeys being unable to... harvest
the only potential of farm-food... via the pig...
pigs aren't herded:
i've only heard of a herd of pigs
and that's when there came a time
to treat a trough like an array of teats when
the porkies were 'ung...
is it a despised animal?
a despised animal because:
and the devil reimagined himself as a pig?

so god looks like a mythological blonde...
the devil looks like a piggish minotaur...
why this demise of pig?
why this gratification in the islamic mirror
of words looking accessible: i.e. dog | god...
my all mighty: allah: blah-lah...
fork in the road: are we 'appy... "now"?

but when you live among the diaspora of the Irish...
you'd sort of suppose... what's the gaelic for green?
now that the internet is here...
i can find out for myself...

why demean the pig? was the pig created by
the ******* devil?
or is this one of those Abrahamic ploy-toys...
rigidity structures...
to leave you surrendered...
go against anything else: beside the pig...
it's such an economic model, creature...
you can utilise almost all of it...

not all of us were born Afghan sheep
herders... savvy?
that eating pork is somehow signature
of inbreeding and s schizoid tinture...
wh'ah?! i lost the TAU along the way...
o.k.?!

it's a waste of time having arguments
with... oh forget: rag-muffin'...
inbreds... i wass thinking about ***...
i picked a spot... Rotherham...
Pakistani grooming gangs...
oh... right... here's a lollipop... here's some dosh...
i'll get a hard-on with a girl who didn't mature
into prostitution wtih a crack-******* 'abbit...

chances of me ******* low i.q. is like
zilch then? i imagine the tirades...
the knife-insinuations...
**** a barrister: **** for life...
settle down: solve **** concerninng:
immmovaable objects:
the sun still has "egotism" to rise
and call it tomorrow...
and her ******* own too: to boot...
imagine that!

why go after the pork 'n' pie?
why pet a dog?
why pet a cat?
     i've already mentioned...
sometimes lamb: just stinks...
lamb kidneys?
STINK... SCHTINK!
but you also can't keep pigs
in an environemnt where you also use
camels instead of horses... no?
no one is talking about this...
because... it's probably too obvious to have
to stress this ******* argument....

came the Ottomans... the Mongols...
the Soviets for a while...
came the Nazis...
why weren't we the people who championed
each other at snooker...
why didn't we invent football...
tennis... cricket...
rugby... i don't want to blame the English
for their race...
but they have been privileged in:
intra-"whiteness" terminology...

what English soldier ever stood ground
on ****** soil?
i've heard of ****** pilots having dog fights
for the battle of Britain...
how the enigma machine was not merely
the work of Turning...
etc. etc.
gravesend: i'm here reduced to "biasing"...
yet i'm giggling at the remote prospect
of "gravity"...

i have clues to concern myself over...
ownership...
          a hierarchy of a cascade...
time follows time...
this solo project of "individuality"
was never going to... "work"...

pending...

   connlach dearg...

    but the welsh still speak welsh... no?
i guess that Carlsbeg moment of:
probably the best'ly integrated people in
the world... the Welsh are...
they still exfoliate in having a punching bag
of their tow-tongue...
unlike that most, supposed... oppressed people
of the... anglophonic world affair...
the Reesh that speak no ditto of Gaelic...

who are, you, you people?!
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2017
i simply can't believe the irony, well, it's irony in a historiological sense, and yes, if there's an affix of -ology ascribed to history, i.e.: how history tends to repeat itself, then the ironical history, the poetic history is also in place, history is by far, imbued by a chronological rigidity... oops. what does this concern, the lampooning hysteria of: the fall of the west, the fall of the west, the english are coming! sure, the germans are ***** sadomasochists in their own right, collectively, unlike the french singular development... but that's beside the point. you know what i've conjured? a prediction... western civilisation will only be revived, by the fall of the western / wailing wall in jerusalem... odd, this ha-kotel ha-ma'arav, this haa'it al-búraaq: you know what the slavic word for beetroot is? burak (ckq): western civilisation will have to be beaten to a beetroot pulp of ****** scars, and the western wall will, first have to fall, before a 4th temple is built; but this wall will have to fall, before the western world wakes up... it's going to be a painful process, but for the western world to reestablish itself: the jews will have to bid goodbye to their most sacred sanctity, their mecca, only when this happens, with an equilibrated sense of purpose arrive for the current sphere of affairs... not until she(h)-lo(h) beit (שלו בית) is erected, will the west seize its dodo project; i.e. his house; curious, isn't it, how the jews are teasing with this waiting game, then again: it is much much easier to desecrate mecca by the muslims, building profanities around the al-masjid al-haraam (wait, isn't haraam the word used by "allah" to state: forbidden? funny, funny that, ah who cares if it's one extra A); because what stands in the rebuilding of the שלו בית? oh, nothing, just the kippat ha-sela... muslims would sooner part with the mosque in mecca, than the dome of the rock in jerusalem; but first? the western wall must fall.

it's just a cliche to state, but this whole
notion of latin, being dead?
  this nietzschean
   *lateinisch ist tot
-
  looks like god is alive after all...
why? take for example that every
single english t.v. show ends with
the credits of when the show was made,
the year? always given in roman
numerals... every, single, one...
that's for starters... oh, by the way,
what alphabet are we using?
   isn't it latin? my, what a coincidence,
and look! it rained from heaven
to enforce it, since the "barbarian"
north men, der nordenmänner
invoked diacritical enforcement -
   diacritical enforcement -
ya,    nordenmaanner (i can count
you know, it's just two dots above
the a, come on, don't be english
with your: i don't know how to pronounce
a word)...
and in the current year, anno domini
that's 2017 (MMXVII) -
we still see latin revived, up-kept,
nay, i'll go as far as to call it: cherished!
it would seem there's a pattern -
well, what with the egyptian enslavement
of the jews,
     and subsequently the destruction
of jerusalem, and the babylonian
enslavement (by the way,
chant of the hebrew slaves from verdi's
opera nabucco? my my) -
but you notice something?
  the romans didn't enslave the jews,
hence they fermented the most potent
zeitgeist for the hebrews,
    a strong priestly caste -
the hebrews bloomed under the romans,
because? the romans thought
very little of them in their physical
capacity, that role was allocated to
the nubians, and, moreover,
they thought about their intellectual
output even less -
      how could the jews compete with
the grecian intellect in the ancient world?
it couldn't! so they let them be.
sure as **** we can say that
nubians were the slaves in rome -
thus in a precursor to the final culmination,
try conceptualising newton's laws,
or einstein's relativity,
   using roman numerals, alternatively
known by the greeks to be the seven
headed beast from the book of revelation:
I V X L C D M -
  but at the same time, try to grasp
the aesthetic beauty of ancient rome,
the coliseum using modern digits
0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 - both systems are:
incompatible, or should i say: chiral.
just imagine HOW CONFUSING IT MUST
HAVE BEEN, AT TIMES,
  TO ASK FOR XLIV APPLES
at a market...
         staggering, man's ingenuity -
and this is why i keep all evolution bound
to script, the aristotelian measure of time,
rather than the platonic measure of time
conscripting forms,
   given the similarity of man to ape;
but that is still beside the point -
i wonder about the divine judgement with
respect to the romans and their
relationship with the hebrews, even though
they did destroy the temple
in jerusalem...
           well, i just look at it like this:
perhaps the remains of spoken latin is
"dead" in that it is muddled, but it is muddled
because the script has such a wide
geographic region of it being used -
              it's as if a universal medium was
achieved, for the greatest accomplishment
of the romans, is their script;
but the hell happened to the egyptian hieroglyphs,
or the babylonian cuneiform,
well, what? they became extinct!
           what does this suggest,
that the romans could not be blamed for
any foul play with respect to the hebrews,
the latin script was spared the fate of
the both hieroglyphs or cuneiform -
so much so that it didn't even succumb to
to the nordic runes, as it could have -
could have...
                  and it certainly didn't become
quasi-greek, as cyrillic script emerged.
         ergo?
gott ist nicht tot, seit lateinisch ist leben.
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2021
you wouldn't might not have guessed it: but there's a pagan music revival happening in Eu-rope-Ah...Ew-rope(?)-ah.. eh-ooh-rop-ah... there's a revival in pagan music: an undercurrent... the people have almost forgotten the "great" composers... not so much "forgot"... but if it has to come between elevator muzak... and nothing... give me an Ottoman burak: even the whole of the west's zenith of culinary ambitions... seems pale... who would have thought... stuffing filo pastry with minced beef... properly spiced... cumin... coriander: to hell with Simon & Garfunkel's Scarborough Fair: parsley, sage, rosemary & thyme... what about BASIL? BASIL is the best... scented candle alternative... loner... no **** readied Sherlock... oi! Holmes! where's your ******* Watson? forget your wallet or what?!

seems... eh... seems such a waste to merely drink
and not allow oneself to trickle onto
some page some dribble: some doodle...
it would be a waste of some cider or some ms. amber
to merely drink...
as Horace might have said
in what was once: conversational-overtones in
poetics... when i had a friend still close to me
from when i was lodged in the fabric of pedagogy:
from those seemingly mythological days:
in school...
we banded up... come the lunch break...
one anglo-saxon... pure fella: by breeding...
Ian...
we played cards...
we were like all the stories franchised
by Hemmingway in: men without women...
i tried... i really tried:
i asked one girl for her photograph
so i could sketch it and give it back to her...
per usual... she just giggled and brushed it aside...
what can a boy do'oh... knead dough for
some time...
we played cards and were oblivious to
all that was boiling beneath us...
oh the tirade... is there a better word
to encapsulate the h'american rebellion
against education?
new venture "capitalists":
they'll sell you coffee-mugs and t-shirts...
how's the outlook on a spanner? on a *****?
a dime for a nail?
my my... if i were paid in nails or peanuts
rather than these transcendental objects
of "currency"... i'd stash as many pebbles
in my might and call it: both a mountain
and a camel's ****!
- the rest of us were nomads...
displaced peoples of the world...
the ******, the Egyptian, the Pakistani...
in an otherwise Irish Catholic school...
- prior to 2004 i was quiet a commodity...
the only ****** known to the locals...
i acquired a taste for Guinness...
i gulped it down: glug glug: came the kosher
sacrificial goat...
now i drink some of the goat milk
and pretend to think: i pretend a lot of things...
it's pasteurized... i can't tell the difference
between a long-life milk from a cow
or what's being sold as: goat's...
now that this is life...
i "think" of an afterlife...
no great plans... oh forget the harem...
i have a insomniac libido as we speak...
i can't keep up with a constant hard-on i'm being
prescribed: no Duracell bunny 'ere...
an eternity closest come: Valhalla...
or a Deutsche drinking house...
were songs are sang...
                      sauf noch ein!
which is stereotypical of a Wend...
                       because the Russians are never
jovial creatures when drinking...
they probably never reach
the tickling sensation from drinking...
Stephen King managed to push out another
novel from his cart of apples...
pity me: i never re(a)d a novel by Stephen King:
i never will... it's not out of higher
literary ambitions...
it's because...
well... i started two books about a year ago:
the posthumous papers of the Pickwick Club
was Charles Dickens' first book?
really? well... no matter... a year later...
it was originally serialised...
- and Knausgaard's vol. 4 of the mein kampf...
if you've read volumes 1 - 3...
it doesn't matter if you stop quarter of
the way into... an autobiography that...
well... it's not Kierkegaard... is it?
imagine my surprise at not being
able to test any maxims of la rochefoucauld:
i suppose all of them are true:
true in as much as they best
be "thought-experimented"
in the stated suggestion of said enterprise...
in...
mannequins? no...
when people leisured themselves
into politics: clocks and... nothing to do with
tabloid journalism to gear up the masses...
- all of a sudden a "what if" drops on me...
my grandfather wasn't a child when he
ushered in the words: herr-bitte-bon-bon...
of the two-schwarz-clad dobbermen
SS-mensch: what if... i was...
not on the "suspect" list
some tier above the Jew and the Gypsy...
what if Hittite Leering Herr... Adoolph...
forgot to put his faith in the Luftwaffe
and the miracle army drug as prescribed by ISIS
(amphetamine) and instead
started to *******: PANZER-GRABEN...

what if: Pearl Harbour never took place...
but it was an honest act of warfare...
collateral precision with Hiroshima and Nagasaki...
it's not fair... it started with Pearl Harbour:
not fair: trans! gay pride! it's not fair!
fair in the theatre of war?
it wasn't fair to use collateral as argument...
soldiers fought soldiers...
i will never romanticize the warrior archetype...
no point... i still preserve myself by cycling:
because i abhor running...

i'll walk a marathon from the river Rom vicinity
to St. Paul's ... sort of hiding
like a timid umbrella of a mushroom's worth...
it's England: apparently "summer":
Simon & Garfunkel...
well... it's hardly the *******:
the Beatles...
can there be a point where
these old *******... just... die?

can i take up a whiff of what they
keep on returning to?
the labyrinth glory of the next to nothing
assorted... PLUM- BER...

- because you're not reading tabloid
journalism...
thank god: i was almost making myselv
suspect
guarding the words:
below the worth of currency...
exfoliate: i might...
tragic i might sound...
but you're still not reading
tabloid journalism: you're reading this...

wait... wait... wait some more...
wait: again...
i want the world to come into
coherency of what's leftover concrete when
i'm: properly mummified:
better... thrown into the elements...
into the fire... twice: once as body: twice
as ash...
against the wind...
where everyone might be *******
against it...
into the sea.... no... into the river...
into the lake: against the hammer
or the mirror...
just above the puddle then...

you might read me before you read
what's leftover in the tabloid press..
there's a cat jigging with r.e.m. twitching...
give me death tomorrow...
i guess i'll be content...

- but concerning the "nomads"...
at least the Hebrews prescribe a motto:
fear God...
oddly enough: Allahu-Akbar...
the Muslims have no notion of a fear...
of God... there's no H. P. Lovecraftian:
a deity with a a head of an octopus...
oh how the Muslims love to joke
the inferiority of the Hindus...
the inferiority of Islam is...
it's inability to stress a fear of their deity...
Muslims don't fear their deity...
they have no scepticism...
sure... readied meat for the slaughter...
not now... in waiting...

by having no fear of their deity...
what can earn this... deity...
respect... from prospective proselytes?!
goat is goad: is gweat!
****-smear... half-way between
proper choccie and somewhat
between copperneck...
cinnamon clad-crew...

last time i checked: Muslims have no fear
of their deity...
obnoxious crazed infancy of monotheism:
that's Islam: for me...
i distrust a people with no fear
of their deity...
why? gobble gobble... down down:
'ere we go...

hey presto! i can tell the Asians apatrt!
like wannabe racists can tell
a Croat from a Serb a ****** from a Russia...
a Czech from a...
Molotov... cocktail: non Fwech...

the face of one Korean gymnast... re(ad))d
like...
i own two cats: thank **** that also don't
own two to pair of: leash... or muzzle...

— The End —