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Mateuš Conrad Jan 2017
i can't stop feeling this pounce of melancholy,
and i mean: it's like a lynx pouncing on my chest,
i can't even claim a clinical dimension to it,
it's a sadness that comes on two fronts...
   it's a sadness that i left Poland when i was 8,
and the greater part of my life was spent
using the English language...
         and i find the Anglophone world so devoid
of consistency... all this post-truth
          labelling...
       this throwing of the cartesian maxim the other
way around, the "i am" really does
   predated the "i think" scenario on the hopes
of asking for a genesis, a (0, 0) / (ο, ω) coordinate
beginning... yes, i know more of a dougnut
   and less the orbit of a planet in the latter case...
     i can't believe i'm getting this technical -
but it sometimes happens, you know?
i don't really like it... i'd love to write about less
claustrophobic matters, less constrictive intellectual
matters... and before you shoot me down
by denouncing the crass lack of motivation -
                i am frail in undertaking another "poem",
and i mean that as a way of saying:
              terse narration and no claim to technique,
or at least that's what i know is modern...
           i watch the following list of videos
as a sort of freak-natured lullaby while drinking
Obey the Walrus         I FEEL FANTASTIC
Agamemnon Counterpart       Username 666
Cursed Kleenex Commercial      There is nothing
Performance Olivier de Sagazan 2008  
     The Wyoming Incident        My Dead Great
Grandma’s Coffin in My Own backyard!
K-Fee Car Commercial       Pretty Woman
Fatal Diving Accident        Girl Goes ****** During
Makeup Tutorial       Paris Catacombs Lost Footage
Shaye Saint John – Hand Thing (yes, copy & paste
given the uppercase lettering, i can be lazy
once in a while) -
                          so i do see a lot of potential in
these clips... if you can't dazzle them: might as well
scare them...
                      but i watch them and then write
a native-language poem while listening to
    music accompanying a zbigniew herbert poem
by tadeusz woźniak - and i get all nitty gritty
when using a language i should have forgotten
aged 8... and i type one out and i am brought
to tears with it... and then it vanishes from the html
blank...
             and then a deeper horror sets in,
which Ezra Pound would have liked
and it merely means: ten quotes by Horace,
a video, with only 230 views on youtube...
                    no one would dare say carpe diem
like a cliche after seeing this video...
             but still the sadness persists...
and i can't make it systematic, not systematic in
the sense that it might appeal to the zeitgeist of:
the January blues, or... i need the pharmacological
rainbow...
        i have a miniature vineyard... enough for
35 litres of wine... and i make the wine myself...
i pick the grapes...
i crush them, i buy the yeast, i melt the sugar until
i get runny sugar-thick water,
   and you know? out of the 5 litre holders for it...
i get about 10 pristine bottles of wine,
roughly in the range of 15% a pop...
                   from 35 litres i get about 10 pristine bottles
of wine... quality-wise: the stuff you'd expect to
buy in a shopping market...
       and that's the sad part...
it bothers me that i've waited for long for the wine,
i might have mentioned it a few months back that
i do actually make my own wine... but given the addiction
it's a product that could only last for something
worth celebrating...
                     these days people speak of a marathon's
worth of abstinance from the stuff for a month...
    which is a bit sad, given that if people ventured
into producing their own alcohol, they'd have
a Dionysian month of binging on it... and then having
11 months being sober... until the natural cycle comes
back, like the rare event of a comet...
    i'm sad i lost a few poems on the way...
but i'm also sad that the drinking should begin by spring
and that i'm ****** already...
                  that i'm still buying whiskey,
and when i do actually drink that one bottle of clouded
wine today, i'll feel a sense of the most minute accomplishment...
   i can't stop facing this industrialisation of
everything... whether it's alcohol, or art...
   or intellectual debate...
   sure, i'll listen to Breitbart for a bit...
then i'll listen in on how we've began mutilating
language... then i'll think of god, and recount
kant's concept: imagine the pangs of despair i felt
reading through the second volume of the critique -
if you do: you'd be surprised by what's involved
in transcendental methodology...
    what could possibly obstruct you in the existence
of: said word... not enlarged in religious practices?
   i am comforted by the fact that kant deals with
god on a non-religious basis...
    religious i mean: worthy of a reciting only one
book a thousand ******* times and building churches...
if god is merely lodged in your mind and allows
for a narrative, who is sane enough to take that
narrative initiative from you, considering the fact
that you're not bound to kneel and read only one
book a thousand times as if that one book held
the sole capacity for your vocab exfoliation and learning
of the alphabet?
     how can you ever be bound to a cognitive detestation
of god? that really must be painful...
considering that thought is so ****** whimsical, frail,
   picky, panicky... give it all you want...
you can't establish a cognitive detestation of god
  on the simple ground that thought is being bombarded
by a 5:1 ratio of the senses versus 1 non-sense -
    which god evidently is: given the numbers of
the good-church going folks... kneeling lunatics i call them...
but the simple fact that you want to do a lobotomy on
yourself with atheism, is a bit like saying
you'll censor the mathematical statement 1 + 1 = 2...
      at least the concept of god is: language exists...
and can i add to that? if a being as such exists:
he wouldn't consist of games... the verbal colliseum
of anagrams and crosswords... language you seize
to be entertaining... it would spell out a clear
format: a x, y, z      vector precision:
    starting from point (0, 0) moving to (1, 1),
  (2, 2)        to ( 5, 5) etc. you'd get a y = x graph...
   not a ******* parabola of nuance and political
chess... or nuanced ***...
                    and is that a.i.?
           well: the french question about man inventing
god because it would be useful is much better said
these days since we we have the capacity to create ourselves...
and given how it looks: i'm going to be a caveman
trapped in a two-dimensional world of the collective
consciousness by the time the true avant-garde in this
medium starts... creating a god became boring...
so many had to recreate himself in the robotic form...
    man is currently needing this exploration...
forget the space project... it's a case of definition...
but i'm still melancholic about the wine...
     i've been waiting to sniff it and feel the sharpness
of the alcohol for a good 3 months...
       and i really wish i could write in my native tongue
so easily as i do in my acquired tongue...
     i'm sad because i'm drinking the whiskey
prior, rather than getting completely sloshed on
what alcoholism looked prior:
    it's that curse of town insomnia and how we don't
celebrate enough of what comes with natural
cycles...
              which means that ontology is dead...
given we've managed to tame the seasons...
  means that any ontological question, based on
the cycle of wine-making, brings us to a more dreary
position than with nietzsche's god is dead...
look here: at least you have something tangible...
   you can't erase god from thinking...
it's the primost a priori essence of every, single man,
it's not an a posteriori fact,
god is there, in that a priori medium like space
and time...
                              and why do people never claim
that god can contain a dualism, primarily because
the herd is encapsulated by a monotheism?
              if god could ever be an a posteriori you'd
be forced to experience some sort of revelation,
and later encounter the evil contained within the concept's
dualism, so in actual sense: be considered mad:
for not making certain choices in life and wishing to
reach for the pulpit... mind you: i had such an experience...
and my life didn't become better for it...
     evidently i should have pressed harder for
the ontological argument of: marrying the girl...
but then the same ontological argument came back
to me when i started making wine...
                      meaning i could produce alcohol
on an industrial level... and forget any ritualism involved
in consuming it prior... since i would only be
left with an addictive socio-pathological use of the
once celebrated, collective engagement by waiting for
autumn to ferment and keep me warm through
the winter... which i suppose is when all the Greeks
were kept together... drinking and ******* rather
than bother to exploit natural resources like gas and oil...
but hey! that's just me...
         but there's a sadness behind this...
start making your own wine and you'll see it...
which is to say: i don't know whether i'd have lived
a happy life with my russian fiance...
             i have only a quantum idealism to mind
expressed by fanciying myself counter to the history
i'm writing right now...
    so why is god as a priori bound as time and space?
well... why would you otherwise get so many eager
atheist gobs to reach for an argument?
                  i find that the most authentic atheists are
murderers... why? they have transcended
    the cognitive debility of an atheistic argument...
      i'll prove god does not exist by "thinking" about it...
my my: what a lovely congregation you have there!
      i'm not even trying to be clever here...
  well... there's an antidote to this scenario...
               so he's permanently lodged in our a priori
  "consciousness" (might as well do away with psychiatry
******* about with its three-layer cake of
con- subcon- and uncon-) -
                   and he's not lodged in our a posteriori
"consciousness" - i hate becoming the fiddler on the roof -
because what then? experiencing the omniniscence
and the omnipotency and whatever other trait that ******
thing does, would translate as what?
     at best a monotheism... or a place where people concentrate
in numbers... not necessarily worths of being beyond
the estimates concerning their congregation...
            it's dangerous to claim a god in the a posteriori
realm...
                that's why the safest place to keep him is in
the a priori realm... where all the big things happen,
or don't happen, depending whether you're from New York
or Hiroshima...
                    and following from kant's distinction
in transcendental methodology concerning time and space...
and god...
                 it dawned on me that he did see a distinction
between mathematical language and the lingua of
  doodling and anagrams and all those poetic jives that
give no precision...
    if time... then space...
                    if god...            then nothing...
and how are dual in the a priori realm...
       only that with regards to time and space
i'm more likely to throw a 1, or a 2 into conceptualising
these things, than i am to throw an a, or a b into it...
    algebra is secondary in talking about these two mediums...
why? because i'll get a definite rationalisation of
time and space... if i tell you the fastest man on earth
can run 100m in under 10secs...
                       if i throw in x y z into this: i might as well
end this whole narrative with: oi! Zeno! give us
that Achilles joke!
                when i mean god i mean: medium of
communication... that's not necessarily a democratic
omni-versed plateau of sponging everything every human
has to say...
       but i primarily throw 1, 2, 3... 4, 5... 8, 9 and 0
into the a priori conceptualisation of time and space...
  but if i do the same when i throw in the other symbols
into the a priori conceptualisation of god and nothing -
sure, mathematical symbols can be phonetic encoding,
as one, two, three, four... five, six...
          but apply them as one two three four to time and space
and there's no way to rationalise time and space,
because time and space is met with a nonsense
in dealing with a phonetic encoding of 1 (as one) -
due to the vacuum of space... and the timelessness of
    time as a ref. point fixated upon... let's just leave
it with the vacuum of space... 2 overpowers two (because
of to and too), 3 overpowers three (because of free)...
4 overpowers four (because of for)... not only that:
but they're more about photographic memory
and visual conceptualisation ease - no one really bothers
   a - z to be anything more than: what they actually
are as phonetically: awaiting pronunciation.
sure... letter can become mystical in a sense of:
   y looks like a tree (other than pine),
           H is a rugby goal...
                               w is a cosine graph...
                    y is a serpent's tongue...
              but that's mysticism and that's also: fair enough!
what bugs me is the opposite of the a priori
magnetism... as opposed to space and time...
god and nothing...
     well... if i throw 1 and 0 into a priori thinking
about working time and space...
  i'll get, say: 365 days in a calendar year...
               or that the acceleration of earth if 9.8 metres
per seconds squared... (cubic gravity evidently
becomes a bit pointless -
                                        imagine it:
   9.8m/s(superscript)3...   or 9.8m(superscript)2/s...
or whatever variation...
no wonder the chemists got the ****-end of the stick
when they were told they weren't allowed into
the heaven of superscript... but sent to the subscript hell
of writing dwom oxygen... ah shame: Faust! i'm coming!)...
yes... but throw 1 - 0 into the a priori
"conceptualisation" opposite of time and space,
i.e. god and nothing... the best answer you can get
is matthew chapter 1 verse 8... or SIX SIX SIX!  boogie man!
well... not... you throw in the symbols α - ω
into the a priori "conceptualisation" of god & nothing
and you get, e.g.: δατυμ -
which basically means: it can't be meaningless -
       otherwise we'd be stuck with animalistic intuition
and intelligence, overloaded with sensual intelligence
and not marred by the murk of thought...
  how this devolution happened is beyond me...
  no amount of wit makes up for the sensual sharpness of
a monkey shouting at a congregation: spy! snake!
and all with the bare minumum of phonetic distinction...
    thus α - ω are slightly meaningless when it comes
to time and space, i know these symbols to enter
this a priori venture, but we're still primarily talking
about using 1 - 0 symbols to get at the knitting-work...
just like in verse, i say of a crossword
    sound of Valhalla (4),
                 and you say: 1 across... horn!
                              and then we get the pretty picture.
3a.m.
       and the wine ritual is about to begin...
      
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2017
honestly? it was the best part of the day,
drawing those electron-migration diagrams
when conceptualising organic compounds...

       plus i like the culinary aspect of the whole enterprise...
ever sniffed esters?
            sweet *******...
          if i remember correctly: the basis for
                            the art of brewing perfumes.

but it had to happen... i was going to become
     a heretical linguist of some sort, having taken to
the organic chemistry diagrams
                              that state how electrons migrate...
well... "state"... first they tell you they're in orbit,
then they tell you they're in clouds...
                         and then... they go back to the orbit
theory with how            H H
                                        |   |
                                   H-C-C-OH
                                        |   |
                                       H  H                  (ethanol)
is broken down, or used... to make something
else... it's usually a canvas chemical...
                    you don't want the impurities of
water...
                        **** knows what breeds in that
liquid... ethanol? you know that whatever could
have bred on a microorganism level would die
off from the fire aspect of ethanol...
                    what is funny is watching this website
over the past few days...
                      are these critiques concerning
   the improvement a bit like:
                               oh no! digital eugenics!
     christ quote: seperating the sheep from the goats...
                       i'm more bothered about being
constipated and trying to figure out
                     a laxative from natural materials than
buying synthetic products...
                on this level of medical advice: i'd be
considered a quack-doctor... but then best before
yogurt mixed with milk... **** me...
             considering my bowels?
                         i'd be a 100m sprinter
                          all the way through a marathon...
    oh by the way: ʒ is covert way of indicating
                           ż - which, as you can see,
has a diacritical distinction encapsulated...
                         capital version?    Ƶ -
                 and that's rare, it's a bit like seeing a yeti
on a page... rare as ****...
                                      so i'm thinking... is this
the spot where the german (es und zed) ß came from?
              chopping off the head on the particular?
            oh look... they correlate... Ƶ and Ł -
    but that really depends on your linguistic palette -
depends what century you were born in,
                and what the vogue of a tongue invoked.
   but now for the critical part....
       several things... all at once...
               ever made a schnitzel / a schabowy?
                                            sh       ­         s ha    v
you know... when you get a pork fillet
  and you have to flatten it out with... tłuczek...
      o.k. (hand signal... index + thumb
   touching for an O... and the remainder:
         K = III... that's middle, ring and pinky fingers)
               the only transalation i have that's even
remotely accurate is                "pestle" -
but you see, to flatten a pork fillet you use something
akin to a maczuga / a culinary bludgeon -
                   then you put the flattened pork fillet
into egg goo... and then into breadcrumbs...
                               anyway...
    the archimedes bit...
                          it's the opposite of having that quote
ring true: give me a lever long enough and i'll
move the earth...
                                to really flatten a fillet of pork
you have to hold the tłuczek close to the tip
          of the metal-head...
                                i don't know why that's true...
maybe because this isn't a problem for archiemdes
to use a lever, and lift something up...
             but it's a case for hammering something
down, flattening it into a schnitzel form -
                             you need to hold the instrument
really close to the metal-head tip, rather than
    at the end of the wooden stem...
                             it's just the opposite of what's
true within archimedes...
      and yes, i know that schnitzel refers to chicken fillets...
but do know you what else?
                 when you wake up the next day
and have a nicotine hangover?
                        and you're coughing?
              it's also called: coughing up a schabowy -
                                     sssss    ha              bo'h     v  
            and by now you realise this y
                                          is not related to an i -
rather a "dried" out sound... equivalent to the metaphor
of swallowing your tongue;
                                        i.e. enter hades.
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2017
i'm dead serious about conceptualising a su doku...
               i'm on the basis of fractions...
  praxis            9
                            ­  /  4
                   optical coordination of stressors of furthered insertion
for some reason i cited:
           9 x 6 = 51
                         and then           9 x 9 = 81...
              ****! 1 is such a difficult number to muster /
master in a goemetric class...
     1 isn't exactly geometrically "sound" -
                       hello φoνoς -
alternatively, when you're doing a really hard su doku,
quote this quasi-copernican interpretation,
i.e. doing the puzzle "lying down"...
     i dunno(h)... when complexity arises
   numbers "lying down" makes perfect sense...
     su doku?
        it's like onomatopoeia in terms of arrangement...
81? and it's still a perfect square?!
              o.k. o.k. (leo getz style),
                         ω
                   3          ß
                         m
         what the **** was alternative to the said?
        u p
        d
        o
        w
        n                        ­     p
                                       u
                                       d o w n
                                  by now you're ****** kidding...

      M
3          Σ
      W                         ­         my name's matthew,
so you can imagine why i get all hot and bothered
about this variation.
      now for some dead etymology (i,e,
i don't give a **** where the words came from,
i just like the way they sound) -
     poligon,
                              okop.
     all, if any, emotional intelligence equates
       itself toward an intensity status...
       i.e.         the more you feel, the more
                           your emotional competence...
for sure... apathy is the "placebo" guarantee
                     cure   for any type of pathos -
       or the λoγoς of guaranteed explanations.
   to be honest?
               λoγoς has been reduced to a suffix status
with that basic "accomplishment" of -ology.
       another "funny" word... by was of saying:
it's actually a city...
                             Płock -
                                                   Łódz,
alternatively? let's juggle

            ò (grave)            &       ó (acute)....
      now i see the funny side of the *tetragrammaton

concept... it really is omnipresent...
        between           ò       &      ó
    you want the sort of incisor that's basically |
    straight...
                      something that really might **** off god
once and for all...
           with nietzsche it didn't really happen...
         i mean an    |
                              o
                         ­     that would get rid of god in
the classical roman sense of:               oh...
      and return to the omicron basis
                   for having revealed a phonetic encoding
that's simply O...     and that means doing away with
the god's portion of a hammer (H) -
                     or the second syllable of the name:
                    η          - weh...
                                         eta weh...
i'd start translation phonetic encoding if i were you...
            that variant stated? eta?
              it's also called: a short e....
            the opposite like loki to thor?
      epsilon... and it's called the long e...
      in greek it's ε, in latin it's the basis for avoiding
diacritical confrontation / application...
    i.e.          ee           in the word keep,       e.g.
Anthony Caceres Dec 2014
The place where I go
To escape life's flow
A realm beyond your comprehension.
Oh how I love it so

Where, you never said lets be friends
Where, my father never said see you soon
Where the troubles of life stop; weighing down the branch
The branch where you and I go to laugh
as we dream the dreams of children

Where the air is as sweet as your rosy cheeks
Where the sun is as bright as your big dorky smile
Where my thoughts never perish
And the conceptualising flow spills out of my mouth
Where your hand never left my grasp

But every night, I'm scared
I'm scared to wake up
and Leave this realm
The realm filled with an awe inspiring scent
Where I'll never be worth a cent
The place where I can finally wake up
and Be happy
Its pretty cheesy. Inspired by Dream Koala's song Hipster girl
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2017
the fact that there is a freedom of speech
makes it, all the more worthwhile to think,
i could not have accepted
this momentum to think when so much
is talked about...
            little things, idiosyncracies...
   how poetry is never about boxes,
paragraphs, compartments...
  you can clearly see the ledge, and how
words fall into place,
   without having to invoke orthodoxy
to state your point, in the modern day
Hades of thinking and not talking,
that's about the same time we wanted to
return to grunting, how we were really
ejected from the paradise of originating
from monkey, and we'd like to go back
to the weaker tongue, and a stronger
stomach with a diet of bamboo stalks
like a panda...
         because, eventually...
there's not much to be talked about...
        freedom of speech and fizzling out of
a care to think, to be prompted,
to be attendant, to be anything than a blah-blah...
akin to what prompted me to write this...
modern greek diacritical application
as written by germans from the 20th century...
that's why i conjured up the concept
of the φoνoς -
   you're bound to see that greek has something
satanic about it (there's a storm governing
england right now... so strong that a
przeciąg opened my door when i thought
this through)...
what, if not the trinity aesthetic of
encoding the serpent... Σ      σ          ς,
smoothing, or let's call that polishing the
rune like curves of zee...
                        and what chemistry comes
from z | s standing in the mirror,
cosine sine from... where would be put the
origin, left or right, and state that 0 was naturally
value-neutral?
   by the billions... and by inflation...
1,000,000 (one billion), stack them higher...
    cosine z? sure, beginning with 1,
and sine s, sure, beginning with 0...
   left, right, left, right....
           how many democrats are there
to stress an impulse for using their left hand to write?
and why was man born with a natural
norm bias to use his right hand to write?
           again... i don't believe that **** sapiens
actually exists...
    i believe that we are yet to enter that realm
having well established ourselves as **** schizoi...
  we're split, debatable, rather than debating...
         what with our gemini and the the celestial
months of zodiac, replacing our egos
with heretical christianity attending more concern
for identifiable genitals, gurus of the miniskirt
and ironed trousers... gurus of the most debasing
activity,
             was man ever to be so provocated
/ endowed with a libido without a *******?
                    same question was posed in egypt,
which is why we established a confrontatio
known as the old testament to prove such revisionists
would never care about anything else
but a bit of skin...
            truth is a pain you speak to a very tiny
group of people... and in the realm of conceptualising
the φoνoς you begin to ask...
why is modern greek so overladen with diacritical marks?
i mean, how can you complicate η (eta)
by adding diacritical marks to it?
when already there is the aesthetic comparative
appreciation of epsilon (ε)...
   must be something to do with the tetragrammaton,
and laughing, and the upper-case of eta (H)...
to say the least, copernicus without a telescope...
what's south in orbit around the earth?
a crazy ******* vector, that's what...
   what gave this "thing" / i'd like to call it poetry,
but then i abhor pristine surroundings
and a lack of dust, and a lack of dust
and regime of the world in need of it looking
doubly pretty... and approachable...
aphorism 221... revised as: "ambiguity" of ontology...
oν η oν... but believe me,
this german writes that statement,
and given i'm writing in english which has
naturally adopted a diacritical phobia (apart from
****** iota and j)...
   jasmine... why is the leftover of roman
so tiresome and so uncaring as to not have proper
names for individual letters?
      well... it does... but having the phonetic
alphabet is but a dim dull conversation over the phone,
and it's not original... tango?! taxi.
       india.... iota...
                      alpha... amazon...
   beta... bog...
                      but working purely from how oν η oν
has been noted.... how much can you really
complicate η, that you might have to apply
THREE DIACRITICAL MARKS?!
         that's really asking for a per se to exist,
concerning that use of "critique"...
                   and since the rule is that we apply
the telescope, the microscope,
we note an olympian's 100 metre sprint
  to the nearest .001 second...
         i am concerning myself with the "luxury"
of language also showing those few, very rare
and otherwise pesky details...
   they just fall into your hands,
and as the devil said when god said:
they will toil by the sweat of their brows....
   my people, artists, they'll toil
by the sweat of their armpits: lazy hands, see?
the nearest thing to describing is by
                  doing a mime spectacle;
in native tongue: o'zór na migi....
    then again, the very existence of orthography
is a great place to begin bewilderment...
given that chance to be given an orthographic
question, can't really make you bothered
about metaphysics...
  orthography alone suffices...
   obviously with some ***** and a cigarette or two...
modern english and :) and l.o.l.,
    and then back into the way i noted
a noun o'zór, what's that ' doing in there?
ah, the upside-down comma, a bit like
a colon (:) and then the heresy of writing in italics...
well... if too lazy to write in bold...
  o'zór... oh-zoor... but the first omicron is
piquant... sharp... a bit of lemon juice on a oyster...
the ó is standard for the rule of orthography
against the parabola of u...
but i'm still working on the syllable cutting
up of words... well... it's called an ozór for a reason:
the edible part of the cow that's frowned upon
in western society, with Silesian poached dough:
the cow's tongue... one of the most tender pieces of
flesh known to man... in a horseradish sauce, mmm...
yum.
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.
Overthinking concepts then,
Conceptualising my overthought thoughts,
And being wrought with Lovecraftian insecurity,
Words stumble out like it’s three at the club,
Thoughts confused like it’s three at the club,
Existential then small; then harrowing then disparagingly normal,
Repeating points and the still being lost from the point,
Frustration as we weave around the point,
Where’s Wally-ing the words I’m looking for,
A million in one,
I wonder what the exact Wally statistic is,
Am I bi?
Or straight?
Or confused?
Or alive?
Or real?
Am I happy?
Or sad?
Or alive?
Or real?
Am I loved?
Or lost?
Or alive?
Or real?
Every problem upscaled to reality,
An anxiety manifested in universal proportions,
If life is a story, then why’s mine so close to not being boring?
Like a film with the wrong director but the right script,
Through hardship and pain,
you would hope I became,
Something more,
Or learn a lesson,
Yet every lesson I learnt is being rewritten,
No solid thought,
Just liquid existence,
It’s all in connections,
Nature is woman,
And harshness is man,
The link exists I’m sue,
But finding the words I’m lost,
Scores of wondrous ideas with no real reason,
Life has no reason,
Life’s full of reason,
Life is the reason,
I’ve never truly lost,
I only get kicked from group chats or families,
Without family we lack identity,
Without reason this poem lacks footing in reality,
My reality lacks footing in reality,
Is this meant to happen on the daily?
It’s three at the club,
Waiting for the taxi,
Writing on the memo app,
Hoping that when I wake up these words mean something,
Or if they don’t then at least they read well,
In the morning,
Where I’ll be ***** and yawning,
Forgetting these events as they’re fleeting,
I’ve been theorising that all people fantasise about dying,
Pushing ourselves till we destroy it all trying,
Die an icon,
Or a *******,
Either way end up forgotten,
Controversially, I would call myself an optimist,
Not traditionally, sure,
But this longing is the purest,
Confused.
For me.
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2017
\    | | |                          _ _ _
            +                              _ _ _
               | | |                   _ _ _
                       x             _ _ _
               | | |             _ _ _        
            +              _ _ _
    | | |                      _ _ _
x                              _ _ _             /      
                              
      the optics entombed in

why can't i stop conceptualising this ******
japenese puzzle?
   it's like some people bend over
backwards to write as many haikus
as possible,
        when most of the asians that wrote
haikus,
           drank for half a year
                 and then wrote as little
as possible...
       thw west cannot own haiku!
         it shouldn't even practice writing one!

solve a ******* sūdoku!

   and this really is a cure, for emoticons...
the alternative being:

/    _ _ _                          | | |
             x                      _ _ _        
               | | |                       +
          _ _ _                     | | |  
                      x             _ _ _        
            | | |                      +
       _ _ _                      | | |
                  +                     x           \
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2021
let's start this impromptu on the ugly side of "things"... i sometimes watch social-commentary videos... of note... the expatriate black pigeon speaks living it out in Nippon... Joy on a Frying Pan... ferrying pigeons to the gut... along with some squid... he showcased a sample of a mad crowd chanting: WHITE PIG GO HOME... well... PIGS becomes the acronym P.I.G.S. in the northern batch of You're-Epic... all that's Portugal... Italy... Greece and Spain... last time i checked... pig meat is unlike chicken meat... you can actually eat it slightly raw...  it's not sushi... forgive me... but then sushi is no raw Baltic herring in a creamy dill sauce...

clearly i was outnumbered in Venice... i used to take weekend
excursions in European cities by myself
and stay in hostels picking up random conversations
with strangers...
not that many... there could have been more:
Paris being the most memorable...
but Venice? Venice was something else...
i stayed in a hostel that started to resemble a nunnery...
i was outnumbered...
beside the other male who was sharing duties
of upkeep with a female...
i was... outstripped in the ratio of 1 : 10... at least
ten... there was a girl from Argentina...
a timid mid-30s Norwegian...
some others... but esp. these two...
travellers from the afar of H'america...
a Jewish Italian Leigh... and...
oh god... she was a mixture of plum and cherry...
and some peaches on the side...
they were taking a road trip around Italy...
both had some alliance to the heritage...
if you're sitting down at a table and
you're outnumbered...
and this peaches and plums and cherries
takes a fancy for you:
she doesn't disguise it:
'as handsome as you'...
hello ******... bad boy attitude implies what?
being unbelievably irksome?
Hannibal Lecter bad boy i.q. testing is
too: shudder flinging... vide cor meum...
the men women find attractive i find
simply annoying...
was i supposed to gloat in the paid compliment?
after dinner we took two or three riverboats
to Venice beach where i prescribed some
absinthe shots...
i was too drunk before the girls were gearing
up to giddy-up...
drunk's GPS... like that time in Athens
returning from a striptease-bar:
burrowing my face in the *****
of at least two strippers...

mythological blonde Australian girls...
yeah... they were in the mix...
next day a dispute arose...
a bunch of girls wanted to do X...
the H'american girls were split on decision
making...
i felt bad for Leigh... no one wanted to side
with her...
was i going to peacock myself ***** around
with these bunch of girls
or take up Leigh on her fancies?
of course i chose her company than have
to deal with a makeshift harem...
so me an her ended up sightseeing Venice
like a couple...
we ate pistachio ice-cream... St. Mark's wasn't
flooded... the blackshirts weren't there either...
she wanted to take me to the synagogue...
we went to the synagogue when it was just closing...
but there was still some activity in
the student centre nearby...
that's when i learned about the 613 (mitzvot)...

we ended up talking to some orthodox
men... one had a SHOFAR...
i told him to blow into it... he did...
now... i said: call it...
all of a sudden Leigh started to dart around
in chaotic vectors of ego...
i was being a tourist one minute...
the next i was keeping a wild thing...
she even paid for the water-taxi on our way
back to the hostel...
she still had about 2 weeks' worth of sightseeing
the Italian peninsula with her university friend...
all of a sudden
she decided to fly back to America...
she was gone before the makeshift harem
came back from their sightseeing...
i was sitting in the corner reading snippets of:
the Little Apocalypse...
- where's Leigh?
- oh... she decided to go home...
silence... it wasn't even awkward...
        for me it wasn't...
two girls that planned a tour of the Italian peninsula:
oh i'm pretty sure they still had
their sights on Rome...
then i came across their path...
i don't remember what i said...
i really don't... but this look of resignation
is still burning in my mind
like an epitaph might overshadow
the dates or birth and death on
a tombstone...
the female caretaker of the hostel
made me some hamburgers the next day
we sat in a makeshift scrutiny of silence
while she admired my way of eating
with a fullness of hunger...
she only made some hamburgers...
did i make an off-the-cuff remark about
Hey-Zeus in a museum?
don't know (dunno)...
my first girlfriend's father called me a charmer...
am i a charmer: self-love...
all that i am and...
               in a world bound to the poetic
of Je-Suis... a shade a tad bit more tiresome...
perhaps the Lebanese will throw in
historical antics:
apparently all the nations that were invaded
by the Mongol were given a sentence:
100 years behind the ones not invaded by
this: flea-infested.... ****-smeared nomads...
a tragedy: literally: a tragedy equivalent to
how the Christians burnt down the pagan
library of Alexandria: the Mongols did likewise
in Iraq...
as ever: crab-bucket mentality...
somehow: only "now" are we receiving
concerns for: what happens if certain people
are not allowed to properly state their prowess!
but that's only: vaguely...

i don't know how this slur came to be in my possession...
the word itself almost sounds Chapanese...
sorry: Japanese
KARAKAN...
not kraken... KARAKAN... (カラカン)
perhaps the Mongols brought it over
when they did their knock-knock party trick
of... the best party the world ever saw:
the expansion of the Mongol empire...
later known as the trumpet call of
the Cracow Hey-Now: Hejnał (mariacki)
st. mary's trumpet call...
the mongol arrow piercing the trumpeter's throat...
well... it's not Hejnał (maryii)
last time i read a newspaper
the Czech girls were supposedly glad
to have toppled the patriarchy
by losing the -ova suffix in surnames...
a bit like Mr. Kowalski becoming Mr. Kowal...
and a bit like Mrs. Kowalska becoming Mrs. Kowal...
Ms. Kowal:
language has most certainly become
a diseased hollow-house that once
entertained brains and tongues...


at best U2's angel of harem... is the closest i come
to Van Morrison...
can't just forget the M.O.P. (most oppressed people)
of the world: behind the Irish... running double
sure doubly blind...

tell me it's not true... the whole idea of romance:
as stated by the flick of: beautiful woman...
that a prostitutes' lips are niqab prone
sanctity... i don't remember how many kisses i have
stolen from the lips of: the lips that
willingly shared... more than mere lips to crease
themselves on...
drinking red wine: i don't like the numbing...
i add some pepsi... hey presto! kalimotxo...
the drink of Mayan gods...
feathers of peacocks and macaws...
tossed around for a joke of dice...
towing: bone...
by a macaque pirate: primate...

not all from Africa... i find my heart in India:
how i became morphed by mother Siberia
i will never truly know...
how much of history has to be forgotten:
lost... undermined... almost all of it:
it would seem...
the genesis of a game of tennis...
even in high-school we weren't interested
in girls... a game of cards...
and some slap-ball...
the "concept" of woman disintegrates
any further mention of the solidarity of man...
let alone brotherhood...
it's a sorry-*** affair of not being
as pristine as the ******* of swans...
live among us: in harems...
teasing the yawns of lion waiting for the growls /
roars...

good to have these bonsai tigers on a spare...
even as a man i adore these creatures...
i brought one home today...
holding its hind legs...
i brought him
hanging upside down:
to add to the concept of giving it:
added perspectives...

- i once sat in the same bench with a Thai girl...
during a biology girl...
the teacher: Mrs. Cowell asked each of
us to look into each other's eyes
and tell what colour our irises were:
sure... she's wasn't a Thai ssurprise
of a timid *****... she looked and looked...
*****: GREEN, GREEN... see a *******
leprechaun steering a tram into your soul!
Green!
so solid with these monochromatic
peoples are ****-smear skin, brown irises...
raven hair...
once upon a time the ugly head
of a ginger Pakistani beard...
some other beside the ***** Khan...
some blue-eyed of Afghanistan not sacrificed
like some Albino demon of...
whatever is to be leftover from Africa...

- カラカン (KARAKAN) it's hardly a racial slur...
did i insinuate ******* lemons for the proper
squint of the eyes?
the Japanese can reach a suntan status...
they're also very eager to showcase themselves
ski-jumping with the Europeans...
it's not a racial-slur... it's a slur of HEIGHT...
****** shogun! oi oi!
the man who demanded the building
of a pyramid... the greatest - ahem... joke -
of a celebration of life:
made it crystal clear:
build me a monument to celebrate my death!

i agree... it's not as well fathomable as the Korean
method...
the man behind Hangul... Sejong...
thank god he lived and died so close
to his existence not being undermined:
let's assume Abraham invented the Hebrew sprach...
the Cimmerian Sibyl: Carmenta
of all that's Latin? disguise as English:
now?

oh sure... patriarchy... more wine! more wine!
i need to find sleep!
to hell with the architecture of dreams!
i need to find sleep!

look here: a pseudo su doku
of the disappearing vowel:
the appearing consonant in the schematic of katakana:

カア
            ラア
                           カア
                                           ン

imagine rewriting these syllables as:
suffixes... vowel first...
hence? it's limited... phonetically...
perhaps for some... scarce fetish for exploring
hieroglyphs...
emoticons...
or what Vilhelm Thomsen made of
the Orkhon runes...
out of Africa... beside the hieroglyphs of
owl foster son of river flow...
perhaps the spectacle of ape came out of Africa...
but sure as **** the writing didn't...
the writing came out of India...

Africa can give up her grinding of the fringe...
i'm looking for skeletons:
who can't forget the spices
and the skeletons of writing excavated
from the blue Indians -
the smoky bomb that was forever
the black cardamom... who?
some Halved-African fudge-packaged
fufu?
the **** abhor the Chinese...
the English hate the Germans...
i'm a ****** that abhors fellow Polacks
in the diaspora of Polacks...

Darwinism is great: up to and including
a concern / conceptualising history...
**** similis was well known...
the ancients of Rome acknowledged
the blatant similarity...
of man's descent from ape...
but none would ever tease it as:
somehow a "shortcoming":

pierdolony karakan: azjatycki!
here's my racial slur against the Japanese...
keep them sedated: islander quirks...
Tokyo juicy...
it's not ******* lemons squint of
the eye... it's their ******* samurai height...
you know... you can write white as:
wite... right... whyte..
lite... wha-cradle...
bring on the peddle... later: latest of all:
the stool...

islanders: *** or Eng- alike!
their ******* diet of... fish...
crustaceans: in the houses of parliament
the topic is leveraged surrounding:
can humans feel... apathy?
if snails are being debated convening
their experience of pain:
no tiger would ever **** me for pleasure:
no lion would ever **** me or keep
be tortured: for sadistic ulterior avenues
of expression...
next thing you know:
i'll be bargaining with a foreign
entity of a parasite's worth...
than... convene a human: who's man?

how we have become almost claustrophobic...
disorientated within the provided confines
of ourselves...

i once imagined myself talking FOR these "people":
   oh god...  had some more aplenty prepositional
jargon to work with...
i ended up "talking" WITH these "people":
democratically viable...
i go my way... they go their own way...
almost everyone is satisfied...

to fear the old gods in a h. p. Lovecraftian sense...
who needs any supposition of love
when the emblem of said, "supposed" love
is being nailed to a ******* cross?
only a a Greek might...
but where's the Hebrew in the entirety of
the stated equation to undermine the Roman
Empire?
scuttling like the ******* rat her better be!

of a people that have been so undernourished
that... the ******* guillotine might miss their
necks! karakany: plural of karakan...
Elle Jul 2
My control quickly turns me  
From convivial chatter  
To hapless conundrums  
And historic fantasies.  
My phased out eyes  
Are listening without listening  
Present thoughts  
Dissolve into ‘what ifs’ and ‘when’s’ and ‘who’s’  
You speak at me, unaware. I smile.  

The control clicks refresh    
Conceptualising my lack of attention  
My inside voice yelling ‘listen!’  
Your lips are shapes I could paint  
Look for the formations  
In the highlights and shadows  
The pinks of the turned corner of the mouth.  
I’m listening. I am.  

Lips oscillating sounds  
I can hear the words  
Dancing on walls and windows and me  
Structured dialect  
Deep from the diaphragm  
Daring my standard and generic return.  
  
My control snaps its fingers  
To take my cue  
Because you’re laughing  
And looking  
Eyes asking…  
So I laugh in return.

— The End —