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Adasyev Jul 2017
Vyběhli mufloni z lesa ven,
šli po chodníku na přechod

to nemohl být sen, Dano
ten den byl tenkrát bez nehod

mufloni běželi z brány ven,
jen tak, aby se neřeklo,
běželi běželi v krásný den;
potom jsem šel na pivo.

Ale koho to zajímá,
když jste všichni v prdeli.

Kdybyste tam byli vy,
doufám, že by vás přejeli.

Běžela zvířata krásná jak den,
šla na hadovku posedět;
Co kdybys tam byla ty?
Mohla ses to dozvědět.

Kdybyste tam byli vy
a všechny vaše důvody,
mufloni a mufloni,
zkurvení.
Adasyev May 2017
Kdo jsou ty tváře, které zůstaly v nás
kdo jsou ty lidi, po kterých slyšíme hlas
v ozvěnách míst, kde byli jsme spolu
v ozvěně místa, kde nikdy nebudou znovu.

Kde jsou ty tváře, po kterých slyšíme hlas
kde jsou ty tváře, které vymaže čas
na fotkách míst, kde nikdy nebudem spolu
na fotce místa, kterou děláme znovu.
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2016
transcript from a cult movie

bolec: O! zobacz bracie! spójrz jak oni sie ruszają; nie sądisz że polskim chłopakom też by sie przydało troche luzu? przykómaj te kocie ruchy! mogliśbymy sie od czarnych wiele nauczyć... koko-dzambo i doprzodu! to moje hasło, dobre nie? czasami żauje że nie urodziłem sie czarny. hej! chłopaki! a może macie ochote objerzeć film? ja ogłądam po kilka filmów dziennie: pościgi, strzelaniny, wojny gangów, to mój chleb codzienny... mam nowy zajebisty film... "smierc w Wennecji", nieźle brzmi, co?                spokojnie, zaraz sie rozkręci...

fred: ty jak ty sie nazywasz bo zapomniałem? kolec? stolec?

bolec: bolec.

fred: no, więc posłuchaj mnie teraz uważnie, bolek... byłeś w stanach?

bolec:  nie...

fred: no właśnie... a ja znam kogoś kto był... i opowiedział mi to i owo... w iesz skąd przyjechali czarni do ameryki?!?

bolec:  z afryki...

fred: no właśnie... handlarze niewolników przywieźli ich z Afryki... A myślisz, że to taka prosta sprawa wysiąść na plaży w Afryce, złapać w siatkę zwinnego, silnego murzyna i wywieźć go za ocean?!?

bolec:  chyba nie...

fred: no jasne, że nie... udało im się to zrobić ponieważ wywozili tylko takich co albo nie potrafili spierdolić przed siatką, albo byli największymi głąbami z plemienia i wódz sprzedawał ich za paczkę fajek, bo i tak nie miałby z nich pożytku. i ci wszyscy nieudacznicy pojechali do ameryki. pożenili się, porobili dzieci... świat poszedł do przodu... pojawiły się komputery, amfetamina, samoloty, ale co z tego, jeżeli ich serca pompują tę samą krew, są potomkami człowieka, który na własnym podwórku dał się złapać w siatkę, więc nie uważam, że naszym chłopakom brakuje luzu... kapujesz?!?


and it takes just another big **** to have a one night stand,
and a big enough heart to have a relationship
so the soul enmeshes the juices - that famous
W.D. 40 moment - and a cheap U.B. 40 moment too -
it's a drag like that, he can run a 100 metres in under
10 seconds, but when he swims you just hear
dolphin cackling in the background - not **** aqua
for sure, that's me, with the myth of Atlantis -
orderly, please! line up! take your badges and disperse,
we'll be back here again at the fire-evacuation point
in the the near future - in the meantime do whatever
it is you do, and do it. shame really - you ever see
the fire equipment of 1666? a large water bucket...
people either had a lot of common sense back then
or had magnanimous airs about them
(see how many lawsuits were made in the past decade),
primitive technology - i guess people thought a lot
back then... no talk of dementia - they were hardly literate
but they thought a lot, becoming literate meant
becoming aristocratic degenerates - excess wine, *******
***, scab and crawling ***** on the cranium
intended as barbers - then too many synonyms came,
you said barber and he knew the beard and moustache
was an extension of the head - sure, softer keratin, the harder
version being - i've ***** on my face! i've ***** on my face!
short and briskly - freshly mowed lawn... mm, nice -
fiddle the other part, i'll take a Sikh's beard and make a
violin's bow on the sly - see how Mozart sounds after
that. the Mongol stank and conquered the Alexandrian
Dream - before the arrows pierced, the stench overpowered.
it's just a dreaded affair - in order to give pleasure
i have to give my inner life up - the Greeks called it
barbarism the over way round - words from a *******
as if implying i get really jealous and bring out a knife -
the wonderful phenomenon of the schizoid condition,
or as prior worded, premature dementia, yet such people
continue to be fully functioning in a sense -
language debris - a meteor's tail - politicised psychiatry -
the easy route - say the noun hammer and you know
exactly what to do, unless it's Heidegger's hammer
and you realise he's implying two labourers talking
philosophy while working manually - in that
the ego (nail) should be hammered into a plank
of wood (thought) as easily as the reverse - the reverse
being the hammer (extended into the profession that
uses it frequently - i, carpenter) utilised (being, a) -
i.e. i, being a carpenter, nails, hammering in.
i didn't think this through - what's bugging my certainty
in how to explain it without conversation between
two carpenters discussing philosophy, which never happens,
is not what i'm bothered with, the real issue is i have
with the inherent negativism of subjectivity in English
interpretation of philosophy, crudely:
subjectivity is bad, wrong, self-indulgent, pseudo -
this stress in English thinking with its glorification of
objectivity is, to be honest, strange...
it comes from a book review of Wagner's Ring of
the Nibelung - equatable words: banal and subjective -
banal - trite - well given the "success of the human species"
i'm surprised it's not a universal truth that
we've come a bit trite given the numbers - i've seen
cucumbers fresher than people, we're bound by
an approximate of 70 springs, cucumbers are bound
by 1 spring, you get fresh in a supermarket,
you don't get fresh in books, what with the third butterfly
species σκoνιςμυγα (skonismyga - so not -muga?
up Saigon? i thought you cut off the bits you didn't
want and put the other letters with the cut offs together?
no wonder - upsilon [u] isn't said - just like in Latin
in English we have why - iota not y - dust-fly, i guess
Babylon did survive, in the variations disguising "dyslexia")...
but why is subjectivity so horrid? i thought
we all had our take on things and none of us wanted
to speak for the whole of humanity? Nietzsche warned
and defended individualism like that - who
would want to speak for the entirety of humanity?
in the political realm in the west subjectivity is defended
rigorously - because if you begin championing objectivity
in politics the Iraq Invasion was a bit stupid -
despotism, d'uh - yet in England the tradition is to
have a culture of literature that shuns subjectivity
and champions objectivity - why is subjectivity so
negatively perceived? oh, you're afraid someone is
so ardent on their choice of interest they they might
by accident speak-spit into your face?
subjectivity can't be so ****** negative, it's an expression
of an escape from what objectivity already
defined in the pinnacle by Descartes: res cogitans,
(a) thinking thing - we only write subjectively because
we've been caged in that little no. 2 of a waiter's james
bond tux - we staged an escape, a self-worth fanaticism
on the subjects we love rather than "have to" investigate
without passions, just hubris - which is what
critics use - hubris, disdain - the study of language could
have a similitude to the math of
1 (hubris) and x 1 = hubris, 1 and x 2 = audacity, etc.
in the synonymous table - the lubricant factor.
so, anger over, back to Heidegger's hammer -
nail (ego)            plank of wood (thought)
hammer (therefore)                   a table (existence) -
so why need proofs? why do i need to prove i necessarily
exist (when i don't) or that god unnecessarily exists
(when he does) - why prove something?
so another million schmucks can come along and
prove it either way? it's the nonsense attributed to
Descartes - he stressed an impossible objective-subjectivity
(grammatically more understandable, rigid:
noun-noun doesn't work, ah, objective-subjectiveness -
noun-adjective, pencil-sharpener, pencil-needs-sharpening)
in terms of others - hence the existential other -
well impossible for anyone else to have thought it up,
the impasse of wanting to plagiarising it - a real cul de sac -
well, that's me done on the topic - sonic -
as far as i'm concerned most people keep rigidity
a tight collar of using language not coming across a speedy
suggestion to not think about:
the speed-game of preposition juggling and contras etc.,
the acquisitive use of a language v. the inherited use of a language,
two different ballparks - what i acquired i thus express,
what the organically-historic entity inherited he
will primarily convene to call Poles vermin - a little
perplexed by a more labyrinth style of language used -
it gets personal day by day - but of course the ******* are
a protected species due to their colonial roots - at least
with skin-shallow discrimination you have the obvious bang,
and the immediate retort... this **** is swelling, slowly...
slowly... slowly... those were 8 million or so
Polish-Jews... also vermin... this **** already imploded...
it hasn't exploded... it's a dummy bomb... it imploded...
it's swelling... slowly... slowly... slowly... and when you
won't know it... BANG!
Mateuš Conrad May 2017
ja, między swoimi? na wygnaniu? ja? jeden? z kim, i z dla kogo potrzeb? twoje, twej, tego, co mnie nigdy nie znał? tu?! tu nie ma na na narodu... ani ludzi wartych o przyjaźń, co by dało wartość, zwane: lata. o to zapomnienie, warte, złoto i gruz, na to samo w chinach, praca, zajęcie, ***, i to: tak, owszem, tak jest, panie profesorze, tak będzie... i nie inaczej... stara babuszka w lesie... skryta, skłania się po grzyby, potem na targowicy, w hustce, sprzeda sekret tych perfum. oh tych gnań... do tego: co było, i już nigdy już nigdy nie będzie. ah te piękne muchomory... polka-kropki w taniec, jak niby w twej bluzie... czy też w twej spódnicy, szyk, na tą ostatnią noc, gdzie mnie nie było, na tej zwanej, nad pamiętnej, studniówce; pisane, ręką, dziecką w rękach poronienia, o latach osiem; poronienia od narodu dar, co był bliskim tym co byli nad nim, w ramach lat, przed nim.

the saxons said the same, we don't mix with these people,
if i want to drink diluted ****-worth's of whiskey
i'll drink what the dogs **** out... and tell you,
it's like magic mushrooms!
    you know the difference between economic migrants
and migrants per se?
   the latter do not "conquer"...
    they don't make themselves habitual, comfortable...
they don't earn or learn a trade...
               they're here, to learn what the parasitic
government provides, taxation, en masse thieving...
only to exploit it, the system of benefits.
                                 akin to a saxon, or a norman, i'm
standing on these shores, and trying to thinkg of a good
reason to mate with the women on these isles...
   and i'm thinking... why dilute my d.n.a.,
     as the expression is made plain by the intellectuals,
my *d.n.a.
requires an upkeep...
     well, thank you for indicating to me where sensible
objectivity ends, and when true subjectivity, or poetry,
begins.
  i was planning to find out when all these objective
superiority statements would end, they just started to bore me,
sure, they made me feel uneasy,
     the internal dimensions of the object i encompass
are, so much less interesting than the external aspects
of the same object... within the arithmetic of 1 + 1 + 1 = 3!
3 + d!
       economic migrants simply show the ineffectiveness
of the host nation's workforce... it's in plain sight...
they're either lazy, callous, inefficient, irregular,
      low-quality proof (regarding the necessary output
for a satisfactory end-product),
                               in a nut-shell:
a bunch of wankers who just want to shove, but can't push!
              or heave!
why would i want to dilute my blood among these
people? sure, they can jingle and jive, and sing me a ******
christmas carol... apart from that? a potato famine.
      title? celtic-blood.... ginger-red-carrot-hair...
            sometimes there are just natural prejudices,
or let's say, personally experienced prejudices taking hold
of your writing, that you simply can't obstruct...
          some four-leaf clover ******* fairy of a boy tells you:
you should mingle with your own...
         you're polite enough to write an answer,
rather than tell it to his face... when you flying to dublin, you ****?

— The End —