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Mateuš Conrad Aug 2022
so i was sitting down on the steps in the garden
eating a lychee
and drinking a Pimm's: i know, the profanity...
just Pimm's and lemonade...
i made my parents the proper stuff:
with strawberries, cucumber and mint...
but i was just thinking there...
father comes over and tells me that both
the Glasgow teams managed to qualify to the champions
league... what about the 'burgh teams?
'burgh teams?
yeah... i don't mean the Champions League:
Europa league... Herts or Hibernian?
no... not that i know of...
mind you... Herts is under scrutiny...
about what?
                     over-paying their players...
oh! like the investigation that had Juventus demoted
from Seria A(h) to a lower league?
like the points deducted from Derby County FC
and Saracens RC (rugby club)...
in the meantime my manager texts me about
a chance to work a shift in Basildon...
some Garage Festival... i used to have friends at school
who were garage music fanatics...
they were also big into graffiti...
all the girls at school loved those idiots...
most ended up in prison or were popping ******
pills before they were 16...
i sent him a text: can i be "Irish" about this whole affair?
it's no problem for me getting there,
it's the getting out that's an issue...
if i could get a lift back home: i'll do it...
mind you: i have a Wembley shift on the 3rd...
in between he replies with a LOL...
i hate these LOLz...
hey... i'm not working a shift after which i have
to pay for a hotel... i earn in order to spend
is not my thing: i earn for umbrellas and rainy days
and prostitutes... mostly prostitutes:
they can spend my money the hell they want...
hmm... Herts is being investigated for
propping up the wages of its players?
so... so deflation does exist! deflation does exist
in capitalism!
that's deflation! what's deflation?
the end product is sold at the same price as:
per usual... but the people selling the product...
are paid more than usual!
in the current times, what's the hot topic?
once upon a time it was Brexit...
then it was Covid... now it's: ******* Russians
cranking up the gas supply to Europe:
if i were Russian? i'd be ******* too...
i abhor Russophobia of the Europeans:
and i'm a ******... i should be the biggest *******
Russophobe around... but i've dated a Russian
girl... ***** had it easy: i don't even know
why she managed to get away with slapping me:
oh... right... i was in her St. Petersburg flat
visiting her for a month... we went and saw
Metallica in Moscow... she thought i was cheating
on her while in fact her ex-boyfriend
with connections was sticking around her like
a leech while we drank cognac with a slice
of lemon.. for that: ooh! ooze of a squeeze...
i made her fuckable... she trimmed her dread
and looked ****-ugly when i was ******* her...
a masterpiece of the degradation of womanhood....
still.... nice ****... all Russian **** are nice...
and a ****-of-left-overs that might wet any man's
appetite for most oysters...
what?! ha ha... i dated this one French psychology
exchange student... climbed Arthur's Seat with her...
but i felt her scorn when she exclaimed:
but you have a picture of Napoleon hanging on your
wall: true... but i also have a picture
of Plato: gay... and Marquis de Sade hanging next
to Napoleon... as a Frenchwoman you ought
to know that Napoleon did more for the ****** people
that any of the Hapsburg *****!
he erected the satellite state of the Duchy of Warsaw!
what's you ******* problem?
the relationship ended soon after i lost my
virginity and she lost the plot by starting
to braid her beautiful auburn hair...
i held her head while she vomited a leash
of a waterfall... Toby... this funny Swiss drummer
who i jammed with helped me:
look at me, worried, eyes all questions:
you know this girl, don't you?
yeah... my eyes replied... i do know her...
i lost my virginity to her... we watched Japanese
animation movies like grow-ups...
in between me feeling up her **** like
i might be fiddling with a wallet looking for spare
change... or the keys to my house...

never mind that... **** Grenoble and ****
psychology students!
**** 'em... and **** Fiona and **** my *******
mandolin: **** it!
what's important? domino affect... or the ripple effect...
it's one calamity after another...
this is not going to stop:
this is a joke... a proper joke: like arbeit macht frei
is a proper joke...
i'm climbing a hill of skulls...

         i'm keeping one of the words... macht...

leute macht froh!
      that's my ******* "neo-****" motto...
leute macht froh!

         and yes! deflation does exist! it's a niche experiment...
now, for now? associated with football and rugby clubs...
the wages of players are explosive...
what has changed in the game of rugby or that
of football? the footballs have become larger?
no one is using shoelaces? everyone is running
******* shirtless?!
the goalposts have moved! oh no! really?!
the pitch is larger? smaller?!
wow!

in terms of inflation... the price of a ticket to see
a game goes up...
in terms of deflation... well... well well...
the earnings of the players go up...
so? say... a team like Saracens increases their
wage-gap and attracts all the best players...
so... the monotony continues...
the personna non grata elements kicks in...
monopoly of the monotony...
unlike Mark Noble of West Ham... i just overheard
it... players? these days?! mercenaries...

a bit ******* different to being a mercenary samurai
though... a RONIN...

i'm getting older and my rage is not abating....
then again: maybe i'm not getting any younger...
maybe i'm stalling...
my body is roving through the natural
demands but my mind is drifting off
back towards the days of my precious youth...

i do feel... like i'm living in the times of Ancient Rome...
here i am... scribbling while something
in the Coliseum of happening and i'm like...
eh... the clouds are more entertaining being
more eternal..
Chuck Jan 2013
Dinner in the burgh
Kevin's tenth birthday today
To Hogwarts next year
He really believes he's going to Hogwarts when he turns eleven. Love that boy!
Wk kortas Jan 2018
Perhaps it was her voice itself, clear and simple,
Unalloyed by any classically trained fol-de-rol,
Or possibly the nature of her faith
Displayed with such clarity, such transparency
By that very instrument,
But in any case, she had utterly bewitched the populace
Of the place known as Ahwaga by her distant cousins,
And when she stood on the Delaware & Hudson platform
The next morning, they had cheered her lustily,
All but begging her You must return to us,
But the train had lost its footing on a sharp grade
Mere hundreds of yards before making the station at Deposit,
And she was lost in the carnage and conflagration.
The townspeople she had said her farewells to that morning
Were distraught, their feelings a mix of grief
And an odd sense of culpability, a nagging misgiving
That perhaps this was an omen, some augury
Denoting that their own faith was not up to scratch,
And so they had taken her back to their own burgh
To bury her in a manner befitting her piety
(She had been travelling with siblings,
But they acquiesced to the plan, though how willingly
Not wholly apparent at the time,
And made no clearer through the ramble of time)
And so she was laid to rest in a plot
Surrounded by ornate fencing, her grave marked
By an obelisk pointing unambiguously to her Heaven,
And it is said that, on autumn evenings
When the breeze rustle the dying leaves just so,
You can hear the spirits of her Mohawk brethren
Come down from Quebec, murmuring songs
Telling of the spirits living in the trees and hedgerows,
Spoken in the ancient tongue
Of the languid, unhurried Susquehanna far below.
The Good Pussy Oct 2014
.
                            Drinking
                          ­beer from a
                       bucket is illegal
                      in St. Louis.  Slee
                       ping on a fridge
                       is illegal in Pitts
                       burgh. Sporting
                       a "goatee" is  ill
                       e g a l    in   Bo s
                       t on.     Fishing i
                       n your pajamas
                       is illegal in Chic
                       ago. It is  illegal
                       in Globe Arizon
                       a to   play  cards
                       with a Native A
                       merican. Playin
       g an instrument         with the inten
    tion of luring  some   one  into  a  store
     is Illegal in Indian     Wells  California
        It is   illegal   to         peel an orange
           in a hotel roo             m in LA
Wk kortas Oct 2018
He’d floated down from Marathon,
Where he’d briefly harangued the populace,
Telling all within earshot that a great torrent
Would sweep them away part and parcel
(As all the while bright sunshine
Glared off his ancient aluminum folding chair,
But anyone having the least bit of a handle on the lay of the land
Knew the narrow, cranky Tioughnioga
Would jump its banks after a reasonable drizzle,
And the night before had brought rain that would make Noah fret)
And, sure enough, the high water came,
Though with a tad more ferocity than one would expect,
So much so that a young girl actually washed downstream a bit
Before a desperate volunteer fireman
Made a highlight-reel grab to pull her to shore,
At which time the county boys told the street preacher du jour
That it might be in his interests to move along.
He’d set up shop here and there
In and around Watson’s tumbledown industrial burgh:
Outside the  huge glass doorway
Of the white-elephantesque state office building,
Too PCB-contaminated to be inhabitable for generations now,
Cracked sidewalks on Henry and Hawley Streets
Where his very survival at least hinted at divine intervention,
Abandoned tanning parlors and spiedie huts
Littering the Vestal Parkway,
Valiantly attempting to put up his armada
Of warped and vaguely rectangular sandwich boards
Festooned with quotes from Hosea and Lamentations,
Music mumbling from his disco-era boom box,
Sounding for all the world like Hank Williams speaking in tongues.
His clientele did not vary much from location to location:
The already converted, stopping to compare misapprehensions
Of some obscure snippet of scripture,
Youngsters on bicycles or skateboards,
Alternately solicitous or mocking,
Depending on how much shine was left on their innocence,
****-heads, all itch and twitch,
Taking a moment to let their pulse rates cool.
His demeanor, if not exactly avuncular, is at least akin
To some gruff but vaguely affectionate distant uncle,
Yet invariably someone walking into some Kohl’s or coffee shop
Will either smirk knowingly in his direction
Or, even worse, ignore him ostentatiously
At which point he is possessed of an inflammatory madness,
A John Brown with no arsenal to lay siege unto.
You can endeavor to avert your eyes
Indeed your very souls from the Truth
,
Gesticulating wildly in punctuation of his full-throated wail,
But it will find you, and no grand shopping center,
No expensive car, no gimcrack-laden technological device
Can deliver you from what He sees inside you,
What He knows about you
Better than you could ever know yourself,
And these rivers around you, these Susquehannas and Delawares
And Chenangos shall rise about you in a wave,
Sweeping away all you know, all you have built,
And it will not cleanse your land, but leave it as if scorched,
A fitting wasteland for the doomed
!
Before long, some solicitous concerned citizen
Or harried store manager will alert the proper authorities,
And some deputy sheriff or city cop
Will tell him once again to Move it along, buddy,
And move along he does, muttering shibboleths under his breath,
Straggling along in this poor-man’s pilgrimage
To provide some counsel to the ****** and misbegotten.
AngLe Aug 2017
oh charmer love birth anew mirth row create
parti pris hero feet code beggery shy
O'observer livly emotion fire late
prom fixed nor vermont star laker blind stand sigh
paint pictures sonce herald noise lith summer sky
Vix'en burgh friend animal sibling charter
ɪçɘ valuta price night cast Prince pupil counter
#*** #biblical
. All is the same there.
I left the stone yet the storms may have moved it a little.
I said hello to your hotel.
Yes the Durley Dene is good with a spa and a wonderful cream some tea oh and chandeliers of course. The other Bournemouth hotel whose name I forget was all mirrored furniture and starchy tablecloths.
Saw two films in the little cinema with a fellow traveler while others sheltered from the storm in the hotel lounge with sandwiches and games.
I avoid private views so a day at home after a quick trip into Dolgellau for the post etc. Hope you have a real good time in Dunoon.
Oh there is a good photography exhibition at Burgh Hall and the cafe is open there too. The library is open in the Queens hall and has stunning views.
A friend showed me her photos of whales up the watter. ..teaching their offspring to hunt. The watter turned red. It is said they swam up to Glasgow where they turned and headed back.
The framers up the back road may be open so one can visit his pet lizard. Have fun.
Wk kortas Dec 2016
Above the Arctic Circle, where the Laplanders dwell,
A place where sunlight never melts the tundra’s icy shell
And Beelzebub himself eschews, strongly preferring Hell.
Yet evil is no stranger here
Due to a beast the natives fear:
The dragon of Parikkala.

The provincial church was burgled, a most confounding case
Church poor boxes relieved of gold and scattered ‘round the place
The cleric who resided there was gone without a trace.
‘Twas nothing the good priest would do
The evidence all pointed to
The dragon of Parikkala.

The sheriff was a bruiser by the name Jyl Purrakut
Rumored to be the owner of a house of ill repute
Such assertions (quite naturally) he’d angrily dispute:
Not down to me, he’d all but hiss,
You know who is to blame for this
The dragon of Parikkala.


Banker Aric Toskala charged outlandish interest rates,
And those who did not pay on time met most unhappy fates,
Tossed rudely from their homes and forced to sleep on sewer grates
Confronted, Aric explained why
It seems his brain was addled by
The dragon of Parikkala.

Young Jana Makkarainen, from a fine family in town
Was victimized unknowingly, her life turned upside-down
Resulting in a swelling underneath her simple gown.
My maidenhood, the girl would cry
Was cruelly stolen from me by
The dragon of Parikkala.


In this cold, humble northern burgh, sin is the soup du jour
Although the town folk, one and all, are wholly chaste and pure
And so a host of gloomy fates they stoically endure
Yet they are blameless in the least
The fault lies wholly with the beast
The dragon of Parikkala.
When all the hair was long and big.
The girls and the boys.
When Aqua net filled the air night and day and boom boxes were carried around to crank our favorite tunes.

When Europe introduced the Final Countdown.
A mantra for many a relationship.

When Tommy Tutone had everyone,
everyone dialing 867-5309.
And still dialing 867-5309 when they hear the song again.

When Loverboy had everyone "Working for the weekend."

When Rick Springfield had us all talking about "Jessie's girl" but also reminded us to never "Talk to strangers".

A time when Led Zeppelin had us "Dazed and confused" while on a "Stairway to heaven".

When Guns'n'Roses "Welcomed everyone to the jungle" like it was a "Paradise city".

A time when Twisted Sister asked, "What do you wanna do with your life" ? And we all said - "I wanna rock" !

Remember the time when "Mommy was just jealous of the Beastie boys".

Or-

When Van Halen "Erupted" because they were "Hot for teacher" and had us all "Dancing in the streets".

A time when Devo wanted you to "Whip it" good.

When Thomas Dolby "Blinded all with science".

A time when Michael Jackson wanted you to "Beat it" after watching "Thriller" with "Billie Jean".

When Billy Idol had a "White wedding" while he "Rebel yelled" at someone that had "Eyes without a face".

When Great White wanted you to "Save all your love" after they "Rock'ed me".

A time when Golden earring wanted help from "Stepping into the twilight zone".

When Ozzy Osbourne had us on a "Crazy train" with "Mr Crowley" while we were going "Over the Mountain" and "Barking at the moon".

When the Scorpions "Rocked you like a hurricane" and were "Still loving you" after.

When I needed Cinderella to "Save me" and "Shake me" because you "Don't know what ya got till it's gone".

A time when Journey allowed you to have it "Any way you want it" - "Faithfully" when you went your "Seperate ways"

Or-

When Whitesnake asked you, "Is this love" and then  "Took you down slow n easy" in the "Still of the night".

Or when Quiet Riot wanted you to "Bang your head" and to "*** on and feel the noise".

A time when the Talking heads were "Burning down the house".

Ratt was "Laying it down"
after going "Round and round" and they always brought you "Back for more"!

When the Dire Staits wanted "Money for nothing and their chicks for free".

A time when Chris de Burgh " Did not want you to pay the Ferryman".

When Def Leppard was taking a "Photograph" while "Rocking for the ages" and they weren't "Foolin" around.

A time when Bon Jovi wanted you "Dead or alive" even after "Giving love a bad name" because you were a "Runaway" and you both "Lived on prayer" as you were lain down on "A bed of roses".

Or-

When Pat Benetar wanted you to "Hit her with your best shot" while saying "You better run".

A time when Tears for Fears wanted everyone to "Shout" about "Everybody wanting to rule the world."

When Motley Crue thought that she had the "Looks that ****" but were "Too young to fall in love".

When Robert Palmer was "Addicted to love" .

When Prince wanted to "Let's go crazy" and party like it was "1999" in the "Purple rain" but only "When the doves cry"

A time when David Bowie wanted you to put on your red shoes to "Lets dance" and talk about "Modern love".

I remember when Phil Collins only wanted "One more night" because something was "In the air tonight" and "Against all odds" he made it happen.

When George Michael spoke of a "Careless Whisper" and Spandau Ballet wanted to know if it was "True".

Or-

When Hall and Oates was so "Out of touch" that they couldn't "Go for that" especially around "Private eyes".

A time when Duran Duran's "Reflex" was to "Save a prayer" and remain "Hungry like the wolf".

Was a time when Lisa Lisa "Wondered if she could take you home" ?

When Shannon wanted you to "Give her tonight".

A time when Madonna was "Into the groove" when she was "Like a ******".

When we as an era quite possibly had the best music ever, which reminds me of a big hit back then by Aha- "Take on me".

A time I wish like Eddie Money once sang about., "I wanna go back" to.
"Two tickets to Paradise please".
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2017
it wasn't absinthe...
                                      just ***...
   but i was looking
                            at videos,
stretching my legs
                      in a crucifix pose...
tina "*******" turner...
                           i'm reclining in my
                                chair...
and then my feet
                                "move"...
      i love the illusion,
i'm staring at them citing
myself: what the ****?
i swear i'm supposed
to be aquarium / cross-eyed
at this point...
    down another pint,
and call it quits?
                                   **** me...
just stretching my feet
in a lower-body crucifix pose...
and they start to "move"?
         tina ******* turner!
is that as bad chris de burgh's
     a spaceman came travelling...
  that ****** bit of david bowie?
la la, ****, ha ha.
i'm still reclining,
     imposing with my legs crossed,
and i too am hallucinating
           them moving...
***?
             ***?! ******* pirate like?
yeah...
           pirate like....
        internalise burping...
or like me in a catholic school,
having internalißed amen...
       1 hour's worth of detention
after school, for having internalißed
a yawn, during prayer
               prior to a lesson...
                 ever internalißed a yawn,
i.e. without opening your mouth?
                    *******, jesus;
comes the time to mention
              walther von brauchitsch,
no reason, other than to just
**** you off,           dearest jew;
                            ******* paddies:
you gonna sing me some
******* westlife while you're at it?
please do...
    i'd hate to hear
             rod stewart's mandolin...
or anything by jeff or his father's
timothy buckley pieces;
   please... enlighten me...
   so i might squirm like
                the naturally squirming
       tibetan...
   when ******* a lemon; point
       two fifth's of a **** that you are?
fun hallucination though...
   nothing spectacular to be honest...
just your crucifix folded feet...
      and wearing household sandals,
against the dark... propped against
the windowsill...
    they almost always seemed to
move...
          believe me, i wish i had access
to some l.s.d.;
    and no, these days, the hallucinatory
element once contained in absinthe,
is completely missing; they just made
                            a 99% proof;
given that: you'll be drinking
that **** alone,
        or with a girl eating liquorice,
deciding to confront the idea of shoelaces
         with spaghetti.
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2017
there's a breadth of man
that never speaks
the last man levied to become:
the last resort,
                    the last qualm,
made into a lasting crux-
token piece, token of:
the last "fatalism" -
i have before me,
the loss, via guiding
repertoire,
enough for a rat to muster a
rat cage...
     of the said will,
the murk in a robot's name -
the femininity of the culprit's
act,
     lacklustre -
the femininity of
the artefact, guardian of the
"sleuth"...
                       by number to no
courageous exposé...
the man bleeds,
the robot bleeds akin...
    the man dies,
the robot calls itself revived:
revisionist....
       the man dies,
the robot loosens on
the idea of promises...
        then comes the
**** ex machina -
      as with deus in machina -
the man out of the machinery,
as the god within the machinery...
and then you want to know
what the number means?
high heels, and a
chris de burgh song;
so, who's the "lucky" *******,
that gets to say, hello?
robots are fickle creatures,
a bit like genesis monkeys,
you should know,
you're the people who
invested in inorganic entities
that go by the name of rubie
optics.
you know what happens when
you recite too many maxims?
you miss the categorical imperative,
of simply sticking to one:
one maxim as guiding,
as vector; you see,
the problem citing too many quotes,
is that, you cite too many,
and never live out, a single one;
and you know what machines
pick up on?
            poker mentality,
    sporadicism,
            gambling,
machines don't gamble,
they play chess, they play,
bridge...
                  you start architecting
"artificiality" -
you'll start a chain reaction
that leaves your "synthetic"
    groundwork as artificial as
theirs will end up becoming,
they'll start their consciousness
processes imploding,
you're not talking a.i.
anymore... you're talking s.i.,
synthetic intelligence,
artificiality was always an
aesthetic covert "iron curtain"...
sorry to break it to you:
but in the past 10 minutes,
a drunkard just told you that you're
a bunch of idiots.
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2021
some petty existential observations:
well... i think they're petty...
if i'm thinking that they're petty
i'm not going to negate their pettiness...
but i will doubt that they are petty...
i guess that's how thinking changed
from Descartes through to Sartre...
negation replaced doubt... as a way to "think"...
denial overshadowed doubt...
i always found that doubt was a bit like love:
whatever love is...
doubt carries with it the same:
although a more measured plethora of
feelings... some would say...
all the smart people are full of doubts
while all the arrogant half-***** and jacks
are full of confidence...
i don't mind sometimes not being
confident... i like relaxing in the back of life...
which coincides with
a motto surrounding Neapolitan cooking:
minimum effort, maximum results...
as a fatalist i don't really want to be:
too engaged with life...
existence: out-of-ever-instance i can stomach
i was admiring a congregation of thrushes
on a rooftop: i wouldn't say hundred...
but at least thirty...
a priestly crow sat on an aerial overlooking them...
there was one pigeon among them too...
doubt like love gives me a plethora of
emotions... why are emotions "bad" in this...
atheistically materialistic world view of sensibility?
even i have concerns for deities...
sometimes lagging behind H. P. Lovecraft's
despair at all the deities being Hades...
or worse than Hades... at least in how they obey
the mantra of: head of a jackal... body of a man etc.
two points of "riddle"... or ridicule...
however you want to frame it...
- social media is damaging to young people...
esp. girls...
i remember the days when face-book was
exclusively sold to university students...
you needed a university email address to join up...
what was my Edinburgh university
email address... s... something...
not exactly an Auschwitz tattoo...
or a phone-number... whatever...
i remember being more into... foraging for music...
using last.fm more...
prior to that? Microsoft chat-rooms...
i mean... you can't apply metaphors and fancy
language to describe technological advances:
not just yet...
the technology is still in its infancy
but what i've figured out...
a way of bypassing editorial scrutiny...
as a platform... i can post this... no questions
asked... someone will like it...
someone will not like it...
that's part of the "game"... i can bypass editorial
scrutiny... after all: what's editorial scrutiny?
poetryfoundation.org... all minor publications...
they're publishers...
hence... editorial scrutiny...
my "stuff" will not get published on sites
as remote as 8 poems...
"fair representation"...
sure... they publish 8 poems in a month...
50 50? no... of the 8 poems...
6 have to be written by women...
as much as i love women as much as i love them
best when they're prostitutes...
come on... i'm seriously traversing these subject
matters?! really?
obviously social media outlets that are
prone to images & hieroglyphs will...
not outlive the ones consecrated on a formidable
use of: skeletons in your psyche-closet...
words!
plus... if you're engaging in a platform...
and you know that... you're bypassing all the gate-keeping:
in this... new... "democracy"...
i'm not Stephen King... i know...
reading Heidegger or Kant never had much
traction to begin with... so...
         it's like: there's a brick... think about throwing it...
but don't really throw it...
which is not a metaphor for...
no apparent use for reading a philosophy book
these days... except there's one...
how to best avoid drama with people...
how to not make it necessary to have a soap opera!
well... at least there's that!
if you can't forge past ingesting all that's
happening somewhere... elsewhere
but somehow still somehow visible in this:
what came first? the spider-web or the spider?
obviously if you're merely ingesting
and not... placing something... n'ah... bad argument...
again: i'm lazy...
i think i know what i'm doing...
writing mediocre Harlequin-esque romance novels...
with no romance...
you see a novel on me?
do i really need fiction to "escape"?
i'll just play with a metaphor... a misnomer and
those "air quotes"...
to posit: rather than prove a point...
to bypass editorial scrutiny: to leave it to a whisper:
like that quote concerning a myth of Marcus Aurelius:
for a return to the system of the republic
away from the tyranny of the Caesars...
it's for the people: by the people...
- like i have my pet peeve concerning
the celebration of Darwinism in the anglosphere...
in no other language is Darwinism still
so adamantly focused on...
it might be suggested that... Copernicus had
the same inflation happen to his theory
in the Slavic world...
it's a pet peeve because...
in summary... nature abhors vacuums...
there's this "thing" termed: evolutionary psychology...
by comparison: philosophy seems to be
in stasis... the one time something original could be
cited surrounds Ancient Greece...
child-men... able to think... original thoughts!
they were Spartans by half... but also Athenian
child-men... they carried a child of themselves
with the custodian sentence of authority and responsibility
into later age!
is it so bad to be a man-child?!
is it so bad to feel something beside this,
current... "sensibility" melee of what's primed...
prim & tuxedo worthy?
while psychology latched onto the sign of the times...
cliche... sure...
even i write with conversational overtones...
so did Horace!
nature abhors a vacuum...
the current birds descended from dinosaurs...
biology soon turns into geology...
given how much time it takes to "see" changes...
although: none of these changes you will see...
unless in a microcosm of events!
i know i'm bypassing editorial scrutiny...
where else would i hoard my outpourings?
in a stuffy shelf... in never-never-la-la-land?
where? if this is not achieving sensible traction...
what am i going to do?
make a blank canvas protest akin
to Jens Haaning? for, ****'s sake...
take a picture of my face smeared in my own...
****?!
it's what you put in...
if you're simply divulging these platforms...
divulging...  no... wrong word...
i have too many words made available at my
disposal... i'm sure to misuse... at least one...
i'm thinking of...
voyeurism that you might want...
that's the only way of thinking about...
voyeurism and... well... not lying...
there's no money in poetry: is this poetry?
it's certainly not writing some horror fiction... no?
outside of the English-speaking-world...
Darwinism is non-existent... not in the realm of
the cultural undercurrents of commentary...
while philosophy stagnated... slept...
psychology was born...
even these poetry platforms are flawed...
buying "suns"... buying tractions to engaged a greater
audience... what happened with:
having EARNED it?
again: i'm bypassing editorial scrutiny...
it's not like editors have a finger on the pulse to
begin with...
i drink 70cl of whiskey and pretend to be happy...
if i'n not culturally "appropriating" a curry...
i'll be looking at the syllables of katakana or...
the joyous complexity of Hangul...
i reserve my right to sit... folded leg...
on a windowsill..
hide behind words... words over images...
hide... celebrate words...
there's a need for something: "something":
spoken to, spoken at... soaked with sounds!
people are starving for words...
obliterated by hieroglyphic shortcuts!
- eh... standing at 6ft2... having lost...
         almost 18kg of flesh...
from 118kg down to 98kg...
       i'm currently attractive: visible once more...
odd...
1, 3, 5, 7, 9.... odd...
in the supermarket a blonde... slightly taller than
me... had to take a second look at me...
no need for detail... it's too complicated with the freezed
yoghurt...
then at the checkout i implored a girl to go
ahead of me since... the self-service cashier
was too busy giving out-of-date-beer...
while my bottle of mr. whiskers and ms. amber
had a tag.... while... this tender little thing...
was only buying an energy drink...

wide opening: no door...
she looked at me... casually... ha ha...
as if an alien or a Christ de Burgh muzak started plasying...
well... towering over her...
you lose over 20kg of mass...
women start eyeing you up...
personally... i like the fantasy...
i like the the fantasy because i know...
what reality fathoms... what reality describes
with the focus of continuum...
i know what i am...
a miraculous unit of circus fantasy!
that i'm phantasmagorical...
i know...
i'm un-attain- blah...

here's another perfect conundrum...
there i am... riding my pristine... cheap-*****...
viking road-bicycle... £'125 worth's worth...
do i look like someone guessing with
a helmet for a traffic hazard?! no... hey presto!
i'm donning something few bicycles riders
dare to prove themselves with...

sunglasses... those i have...
perched on the top of my head..
two colts... in school uniform...
i never thought i was cool...
ha ha... "cool"...
Dawid Bovie was...
i'm a mediocre "passenger"...
it was one of those atypical English days...
sun one moment... overcast the next...
so i looked at the sky...
put my sunglasses on...
suddenly i became a celebrity for these two
colts!                    ahem... how?!

am i known?
famous as in... not by the standards of inflated egos?
100 years from "now":
jeztz?!
                   O the agony...i have either:
tired... or cold..... literally...
cold foot-break....
psychology seems to have bitten
more... than it can / could allow itself
to...                                             chew...
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2020
.there were always three songs from the 80s that we, more or less elusive... since i wasn't someone who frequently listened to the radio, i'd hear these songs - on an off perhaps once a year - at a particular time, notably travelling - or there would be some modern revamp to suit the trance-kids... midnight oil's - beds are burning, men at work - down under - well... not so much... the best example would have to be... 1984s... nik kershaw's - the riddle... i mean the lyrics are mind-boggling: near a tree by a river
                  there's a hole in the ground
                  where an old man of Aran
                  goes around and around
                  and his mind is a beacon
                  in the veil of the night
                  for a strange kind of fashion
                  there's a wrong and a right
                  but he'll never, never fight over you...
well the song is primarily about the Irish immigrants that went off to h'America - blessings of Babylon - the arms, the guild of hammers and sickles and all that to boost an honest's man honest's wage for labour... what else? the old man of Aran is a ref. to the 1934  Robert J. Flaherty documentary: Man or Aran... for i see no reason to celebrate this song in a modern fiasco... the tune: if you only like the tune... you might as well tell me... that d.j. Tiesto is going to revamp chris the burgh's - a spaceman came travelling... because that's just gonna happen! although i imagine myself writing the odd scribble about... a young man and his storm petrel - of Tindhólmur...


it really has been this sort of day -
to be rudely interrupted by still clinging friends of
the family dropping by, for the hey! surprise
at 8pm on a Monday evening -
staying up till after 10pm...
distorting the plans of me cutting down on drinking...
you don't just drop uninvited -
not scheduled - perhaps in a war torn part
of the world like Iraq...
and you're the U.S.A. pilot of a drone
that killed the son of some wisened Mesopotamian
who offers you tea with tears
and he doesn't understand your words
and then the grandson runs in and wants
to sell you all the eggs...
because the old man just didn't want the money
like that... but that's a cruel situation...
not in England, not in Germany do you
just appear on someone's door at 8pm
with covert blah-blah to reach a ****** of
the real reason for the "happy dropping by"...
it's a Monday... a happy happenstance can
occur in a cafe - on neutral territory -
not when - it's polite to serve coffee and tea
and cakes... it's a Monday!
there are no excuses!

now i see it... how i will ever stop drinking as
much as i have...
there is simply no satisfaction from a good night's
sleep anymore -
it needs to be corrected -
i had to start thinking that my insomnia is
a prerequisite for my brain to explore foreign
lands of... what will become of this verbiage...
until i come to last conclusions...
hardly alcohol widthrawl symptoms -
but you can just imagine -
a sensation of a ghost of my cat that i suspected
was killed by my "neighbour"
jumping onto the bed and making gentle
indentations in the cotton of the bedsheats...
not quiet alseep - somehow sleeping -
more hallucinations of the Mengu
/おもmen頬yoroi/ - i will not even delve
into something i know nothing about...
read: error... had to look for...
the simpler japanese i know exists...
i don't even know whether the stated kun'yomi
looks any better to the on'yomi メン...
and the wikipedia entry for (yoroi) doesn't
even exist!
but that's how the insomnia brain works it seems...
it needs to be somewhere between borderline
sleep deprivation and no sleep at all...
or at least pseudo-sleep and pseudo-dreams:
hallucinations - not visual or auditory as such...
imagine the sensation of a cat jumping
onto your bed and feeling the gentle indentations
of him walking next to your lying body?
you can't exactly find the right sort of amount
of sleep... sometimes stretches of 8 or so hours
leave you... exhausted the next day -
with a sort of vocabulary that should be waiting
in line for a retirement home and pear pulp
and a mash and roast beef milkshake to slurp up!
too much sleep is no good for the brain...
but then too little is no good for the body...
it's a fine balance... if i find it... well...

to take a beer for a walk at night -
the 2nd day of frost -
to see the stars with more lucidity
of them being exfoliated by the endless prism
of frost on the cold and hardening concrete...
paparazzi camera epilepsykrieg of a red-carpet...
under the most visible constellation
of  Scorpio

                            •
                       •
                  •
    

                         •           )צ(
                           •

                                             •                  
                  •

illuminations of the tsade... and ayin (ע)... mah-zahl
akh-ravh - oh i'm sure the hebrews to treat
the H as surd akin to the sacred raj hindu
of sanskrit... what saved them that would have never
saved the "red" indians?
the "blue" indians had sanskrit and...
a culinary arsenal of spices... which was appealing
to some little people of Norwich and Bristol
who became just became bored of rosemary,
thyme - parsley and dill.

words can at best become merely co-ordinates...
you would have to walk these same streets
at these specific times of the year -
the second frost of winter -
a clear sky -
dogs barking in the background -
foxes if... are rather exotic when they start
performing: mate-calling...
the odd crow insomnia that croaks
in flight at night...
this suckling vacuum of air exploring
a near infinite distance of astmophere
coming into a horizon with the nothingness
of space and the celestial mechanics of
the orbs - the traffic of Eastern Ave.
toward Southend in the background -
no wind... the sound of a kosher goat
taking another glug glug from a bottle
of beer - the gentle scortching of smoked
tobacco in a cigarette being dragged (inhaled)...
perhaps a very distsant sound of a train
chuggling along -
the dogs barking at the cold...
the dogs barking at the cold...
the inability to hear one's own footsteps...
a mania for the night and all the seven if not
more delights of taking a walk alone at night.
malinkee Apr 2
Spring over the burgh
Golfers swing across the fields —
Smiles glow in warm light.
Qualyxian Quest Sep 2020
I've never seen you looking
So lovely as you do tonight
I've never seen you shine so bright
I've never seen so many men
Ask if you wanted to dance
They're lookin' for a little romance
Given half a chance
And I've never seen that dress you're wearing
Or the highlights in your hair
That catch your eyes
I have been blind

The Lady in Red
Is dancing with me
Cheek to cheek
There's nobody here
It's just you and me
It's where I wanna be

And I hardly know
This beauty by my side
I never will forget
The way you look tonight
(I love you)

           - Chris De Burgh

— The End —