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Mateuš Conrad Jul 2018
.wow, i never thought it would ever be possible,
i'm sorry, i have no empathy for these youtuber "creators",
any idiot can regurgitate the news,
venture into vulture journalism,
  then again: gone are the days of closely associated
with people like Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein...
they are really gone: what the hell was gamer-gate
compared to watergate? gate after gate,
and all i'm hearing is response videos,
it should have never come to this,
whereby journalists are as untrustworthy as politicians,
and of what remains, come the saturday and
the sunday editions, when the petty bourgeoisie
come out of the woodworks of a week,
album reviews, book reviews, t.v. reviews,
restaurant reviews: real, real journalism,
all the grit you'd expect from a warzone...
           journalists forgot they were not kindred spirits
of politicians: but immediacy historians...
the front-line history chroniclers...
i find... these days, esp. these days...
    you know why i like heidegger so much,
and forget the fact that he joined the **** party?
in 1938 he was already disillusioned by it...
so the ad homine fallacy bites the dust...
   even a **** deservers a redemption...
but i find that these days, of all days...
   man, as a historiological creature has to bow
before the unshakeable facets of the biological man,
esp. in the english speaking world...
    in terms of history and biology:
     history has all the fun stories,
and a sensible "concern" for time,
   well... if not "concern" then at least a bearbable
time-frame...
                  after all, i am the one who said:
all the great deserts of the world,
akin to sahara? they were once great
mountain ranges... you already know where
to look between a mountain range akin to the alps
and a desert... bound to h'america...
   monument valley: utah...
  a mountain becomes a rock after a while...
while the desert expands...
    ayers rock (uluru)... but monument valley (utah)
is a transition period between a mountain range
and a desert, if we're going to stand outside
of all space and time, and look back in...
we have plenty of time to catch-up on...
           just like i believe that black holes
are actually 2-dimensional objects:
   that spin really fast, giving an impression
of them being 3-dimensional objects:
as usually represented by a gravity dip associated
with them pulling matter into themselves...
i think that black holes are paradoxes...
since how can a 2-dimensional object
actually exist in a 3-dimensional space?
   that depends on the size of the "3-dimensional"
object / space... the universe is a medium,
it's defined as a "space" but to me...
      it's beyond space... it's only space on the grounds
of isolated time, 365 days,
the time and space it takes for the earth
to orbit the sun... which is an isolated example,
outside? well: there's atmosphere on earth,
outside? vacuum!
who's going to prove my theory wrong?
               not anyone in my lifetime -
besides the point with these youtube content
"creators": where credit is due, credit is due,
but once might have cared for their vulture
journalism... two old farts akin to felix (black pigeon
speaks) and sargon of akaad talking about how:
the youth are congregating to youtube to listen
to music: that's what i've always done...
  i discovered these youtube "creators" by accident,
i just wanted my jukebox back, man,
i wanted my algorithm back, my imprint back,
now that the devil's dozen scenario took hold
of the platform: 1 video playing, 12 back-ups...
and they're all the same, unrelated, *******...
        talk all you want, please, just give back
my algorithm imprint, where i can discover new music...
again... i never thought i'd see another
compilation video, 173 videos bound to one...
and, mind you... after finding about 6 googlewhacks
(googlewhack? when you use the sort of
language that provides you with only one search
result on the behemoth platform of billions
of results, 1 is grand, but 6? it's becoming too
predictable)...
                        so here's what i found
   (band - song):

wooly mammoth - mammoth bones / kyuss - space cadet,
rainbows are free - last supper / grand magus -
                                                mountain of power,
zed - lies / om - cremation chant I & II,
    smoke - hallucination / weird owl - white hidden fire,
orchid - son of misery / witch - seer,
               unida - you wish / black mountain - old fangs,
b.r.m.c. - ain't no easy way /
              jack daniels overdrive - ****** to death,
shrinebuilder - blind for all to see,
                   datura - mantra / the heavy eyes - voytek,
the machine - infinity / clutch - the regulator,
   colour haze - mountain / maligno - son of tlalocan,
dozer - twilight sleep / gomer pyle - albino rattlesnake,
blockback - dead mans blues / greenleaf - witchcraft tonight,
cactus jumper - right way / borracho - bloodsucker,
alabama thunderpussy - motor ready,
                    earthless - sonic power,
my brother the wind - death and beyond,
   zaphire oktalogue - carrion fly / siena root - reverberations,
unida - slaylina / pothead - toxic / sungrazer - mountain dusk,
   rotor - costa verde / blizaro - it's in the lighthouse,
planet of zeus - woke up dead,
     kongh - pushed beyond / ufomammut - smoke,
high on fire - to cross the bridge,
              the secret - bell of urgency,
      unida - wet pussycat / dozer - big sky theory,
cavity - chloride / brutus - swamp city blues,
the grand astoria - something wicked this way comes,
sasquatch - the judge / pharaoh overlord - skyline,
baby woodrose - love comes down / kamni - **** of satan,
lay with me - the flying eyes / cowboys & aliens  -
                                                out of control,
sons of otis - liquid jam / hainloose - recipe,
    ridge - rancho relaxo / bongripper - ****** sutherland,
skraeckoedland - cactus / grails - satori,
    lo-pan - chicken itza / five horse johnson - people's jam,
blind dog - don't ask me where i stand,
     wiht - orderic vitalis / hisko detria - nothing happens,
liquid sound company - leage for spiritual discovery lives,
   goatsnake - black cat bone / gandhi's gunn - rest of the sun,
the egocentrics - wave / propane propane - it's alright,
heliotropes - ribbons / mother mars - price you pay,
che - the knife / annimal machine - condenado,
   earth - tallahassee / the whirlings - delirio,
orchid - heretic / maeth - horse funeral,
siena root - rasayana / graveyard - longing,
           tia carrera - hell / hainloose - recipe,
      burner - five pills (and a bottle of whiskey),
dala sun - guilty for ****** / vulgaari - lie,
        slo burn - muezli / stonehelm - zombie apocalypse,
smallman - evolution / spiders - fraction,
         shakhtyor - e. jaspers / earthmass - lunar dawn,
evoke the lords - dregs / colour haze - silent,
     sutrah - el septimo viaje...

  

who are "these" people,
who: "supposedly" live for the future...
they always cite it,
as the one motivational
momentum of the present -
it's as if they've never seen
a bull itch the ground
with its front hoofs -
   imitating building up momentum
before a charge...
or how a slingshot,
or how a bow works...
   to these people,
the ******* sideways movement
of a bow against a violin...
sometimes...
      you do not retreat into
the past, to hide, to amount
to nostalgia...
     sometimes
the only reason for the reflexive
affirmation, confined to maxims
and aphorism, nay: even poems!
is to look back...
     to reap what was once
sowed, rather than sow blindly,
and reap: what no one wants
to reap...
    drunk? getting there...
       it felt so relaxing paying off
a 100 / 250 part of a debt
i owe her...
            while buying a russian
standard liter,
   asking for a 100 cash-back
of the supermarket cashier,
- the limit is 50,
   but if you buy something else,
i can give you another 50...
- oh... ok...
   so me went to and took a bottle
of shveedish cider...
   rekorderlig...
   mind you? the swedish,
what they perfected fermenting
better than what the the irish claim
to fame is?
    sorry... magners:
               irish? stick to the guinness...
(it's actually the only cerveza
i'd go into an english pub to
drink from the tap... bottled? canned?
not the same)...
     but with such swedish delights
such as the above mentioned,
  ålska and K  ö   nigsberg
                            *œ
?
no competition... the suede(s) just
do one thing grand...
    cider...
- what was i talking about?
  ah... the "dreaded" past...
     the people who say:
  but you can't live out a life,
   holding onto a private past,
a memory...
    so... these other ******* were
allowed to implant a false
past, unrelated to me,
teaching me whether it was
Newton, or Leibniz who first
invented the infinitesimal calculus
method?
                i'm betting on Leibniz...
after all... he took the position
of a ******* librarian...
   and he wasn't buried with pomp
& circumstance at Westminster Abbey...
sometimes...
         one person can't have it all...
but if the education system
is a system that is indicative for
the erosion of memory, esp. private
matters... and juggernauts in
with these selective rubrics of science
and history...
fair enough the basic
implants: numerical arithmetic,
and lettering arithmetic -
    and then... lessons in mental
entertainment... when applied
           to menial labour...
memory is: supreme...
          i can't give my memory up...
that's what: killer proteins
eating the fat tissue of the brain
like starvation in reverse
        of a case of Alzheimer's?
memory is: cameo cinema -
    however distorted it might be,
although i beg to differ on
whether time per se,
  is not the better psychedelic
component
when coupled with memory -
esp. the cinematic aspect of memory...
there was never a "living" in
the past -
      there was a point about memory
to sharpen the edges of
    "dasein"... all speculation and
questions regarding consciousness,
as championed through
a chimpanzee's *** are somehow
pointless:
    given there's a higher tier of
conceptualization -
   working from dasein...
            hierjetzt -
      or in english?             presence...
- because why would i treat
a personal memory,
like some inorganic entity of
a schooling system,
under Catholic measures,
  that made it necessary to include
Pythagoras... but not Horace?
that's inorganic memory...
and unless i turn into some
inorganic entity -
   the organic aspect of my psyche:
my past, my cameo cinema?
   that's going to be a leech,
attached to me...
  and i'm not going to give it up,
just like... when i walk about
my door, and enter the england
that i know on the peripheries...
i'll speak the lingua franca -
     but with my privacy?
    you'd better cut my tongue off
before i stop speaking
my western slavic heritage...
    and it pains me...
when certain groups of immigrants...
don't know the POINT
where immigration becomes
insensible... self-lacerating...
           i once hated their approach...
now i just pity them...
anyone ****** can juggle
     two oranges rather than three...
p.s. old school cure for a cold?
forget the pills...
   glass of warm milk,
  an egg yolk,
     and a good scratch of butter...
  (on the rare occasion,
  milk infused with garlic)

mixed together...
before bedtime...
  if the ****** won't sweat out
the bacteria during the night...
     well... stick to the synthetics...
i'm pretty sure i know why i drink...
certainly not to: PARTY PARTY PARTY...
i always aim for
the one safety net of "pharmacology"...
ssssssssleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.

p.s. so much for children loving their
parents...
        in vitro and the whole
m.g.m. debacle:
so, sweet little *******,
       no *******, no chance for your
for a quickie satellite launch date from
Tehran, under all the weight of
monotheism turned secular...
christianity: the only "monotheism"
with overt tinged of polytheism,
lutheran, baptist, catholic, orthodox...
just today i opened my door twice...
once to a confused curry house delivery man:
did you order some food:
i too replied with a confused look
and the word: huh?! no.
then a black woman with a a white ol' granny
came by with a leaflet...
the jehovah's witnesses were on my trail...
lucky of my grandfather,
   the profanity brigade of the hebrew name
i will not dare utter came by...

  and if you have lived a good enough life:
memory? memory beats hollywood
technicolour and CGI...
at least in the cinema of memory i always
get to play the cameo (role)...

oh i get the youtube creators:
   living with his parents... still. aged 33...
funny that i don't mind them,
since they're getting older they're settling
into their solispsism,
        annoying as ****, but i stand them,
thank god the protruding caduceus veins
on my phallus protected me from
a circumcision...
  i can ******* like a girl with a web-cam...
no scented candles:
the no. 1, 2 & 3 on the throne of thrones...
the toilet, simultaneously masaging my ****
and prostate...

men were not exactly supposed to derive
pleasure from ***: they were,
supposed to give pleasure,
and in giving pleasure to one outlet,
they were subscribed to finding out what
best pleases them: ergo?
women would always derive more of
the people from *** than men would ever...
*** is not a story of bragging about
a harem... the woman lies flat...
the man pumps her...
after all... she is the one burdened
to carry a child, why wouldn't she be
the one deriving more pleasure from *** than
a man could ever?
72 virgins! ha ha!
   ah ha ha!
             what's the ratio?
   last time i checked... a 3 hole caravan...
of a woman's worth...
   mouth, ******, ****... and man?
only two points of entry, well...
"entry"...
                    seems that the tomatoe,
really is a fruit, but is treated like a vegetable
nontheless!
homosexuality in the 1960s...
william burroughs in Tangiers...
                    when Islam was quiet radical...

well... i cook, i clean...
                what are my other options of continuing
to write and living the ed gein "lifestyle",
i tried getting social housing in england,
but, i'm not a somali with two wives and a dozen
kids...
              rent, in london?
extortion...
                   housing shortage...
                 well there's me hating my parents,
the outside world just needs to see
an ed gein imitation...
               or there's me living off acorns
in the woods, or rummaging on the streets,
making the N25 bus from oxford st. to ilford
my own personal mobile hotel as a homeless
man in london...

   i think it's time to succumb to your
parents prejudices, if only for the jokes,
no point in making ethical high judgements
to fit into a zeitgeist narrative surrounding
yourself with people: you'd never eat a meal with...
that's how i define the highest form of respect:
if i'll eat with you: implies that i respect you...
i drink alone...
a high school fwend once thought he could
bribe me with his company,
that i "had to" drink with him...
      no... not really...
          i much prefer drinking by myself...
these days you're not expected to honour your
mother and your father,
i.e. make them proud...
               honour is a double-edged sword...
just don't be ashamed of having
a mother or a father...
not that hard: given western divorce rates...
i.v.f., frozen eggs... yadda yadda yadda...
lucky me in having went to university...
oh... really? so much cooler in a cosmopolitan
environment with your contemporary
flat-mates?
               get the picture?
                 paying rent while literally living
in a diguised cardboard box?
i can't help the fact that poetry doesn't pay...
that there are economic factors beyond
my control in play...
   maybe if i was the grandson of my parents,
born in england, and not elsewhere,
there would be some sort of + leverage...
for a bricks and mortar start-up...
plus... i hoard...
         books and music...
                     mind you:
neither of my parents spoke english as their
mother tongue...
  neither did i...
they didn't teach me this tongue:
i had to teach this language by myself:
for myself...
           aged 8: thrown into the deep end
of the pool: now swim ******, swim!

i just feel sorry for the immigrant parents
who gave birth to their children into the *****
of the land they immigrated to...

two days ago i found a heartbreak,
a romanian couple, with a child...
the father was stubborn in teach his daughter
his / her native sprechen...
romanian... but she was already speaking
perfect antithesis of accent kindergarten english...
and almost non-responsive to her tongue
alligned to her biology...
    clearly she was born in england,
but her parents were both romanian...
i've had that conundrum in my head
for a long time...
   what if i married an english girl...
and i was unable to teach my offspring
my native language,
what if i had to silence my native tongue,
"forget" it, or only speak it by myself,
via reading a book in western slavic?
what if the woman i married:
wouldn't see the benefits of bilingualism,
outside of the mainstream economic
mantra of ensuring your children
learn either german or mandarin or arabic?
that worried me...
          oh believe me, i enjoy my lapses
into english: since i am providing the groundwork...
but in the case of having offspring...
e.g. teaching them the western slavic tongue
so they could speak to their grandparents
(i.e. my parents)...
       even my grandparents lament
the scenarios when a woman would marry
an austrian... and she wouldn't teach
her children her native tongue,
and when the grandchildren would visit their
grandparents... they'd be speaking
a crude variation of braille, morse,
   sign-language: na migi...
               i know that my mother is alive
in me even under this veil of english...
because she's more than the womb,
the genitals of my conception, the breast fed off...
she's also the Atlas of my vocabulary
of the "hiding" tongue beneath this one...

i already knew the "game" was rigged from
the get-go... i've seen how one hindu woman
suffered being married to a scouser...
she never managed to pass on her language
to her children,
she bought a library, thinking her children
would succumb to learning: however poor
they might end up being...
but she was suffocated by the english
tongue of her husband...
and her children didn't express even the most
vague of desires to learn their mutterzunge...

that's what worried me to begin with,
marrying an english woman i was afraid
of the ignorance that someone bilingualism
was en route toward a psychiatrist disorder
i was diagnosed with: schizophrenia...
this anglophonic ignorance still scares me...
like: everyone is expected to speak the revisionist
globalist lingua franca: this anglo lingua...
if i didn't meet a bilingual / polyglot woman,
i'd return to rearing idiotic children...
anglo lingua was only supposed to be a middle-ground,
a "no man's land"...
             a language of trivial economic transfers...
a language primarily orientated around usage:
rather than an ethno-centric basis for "englishness"...
to **** with: god save the queen...
the british grenadiers' fife & drum...
                 old scot dragoons': auld lang syne...
those where my forever anthems...
see...
        what gave birth to a jihadi john?
his mother "forgot", his father "forgot":
his "mother" forgot, his "father" forgot to speak
the "ancient" tongue...
there's a point to integration of the immigrant,
an immigrant is a forgetful creature,
an ever pleasing creature...
never to mind himself as an ex-pat...
you ****** forget your mutterzunge...
you'll be speaking in cockney accents
with broken affairs of arabic beheading people
for zombified reasons of grandeour!
*******...
          you, you: you are to blame!
you were so ashamed of your parents that you
delved on honoring them to the point
of thinking giving pride unto them was very
much akin as keeping shame away from
their girdle of the wedlock of your own existence!
death has not made your a martyr...
i guess you deserve those 72 mishaps,
those 72 annoying voices...
and i pray to god that you receive your reward!
i hope that among the 72 you will never find
a chance a repose to find your: self!

integration is one thing,
pandering to the "elites": plebs who think they
are kings among the plebs,
is quiet another...
plebs who go places and think english
is a universal tongue: just because
uncle sam says so...
of those i respect:

y cymraeg: pwy dal eu tafod...
an gàidhlig: cò fhathast bruidhinn an cuid teanga...
i nawet moim: co ma mówić
to nawet tyle: co znaczy tak niewiele!

there are boundaries... learn the customs
of the natives, but ensure you retain the customs
you were born with...
a child, born in a foreign land,
ought to ensure his parents teach him
the words to speak to his grand overseers...
complete immersion,
this cultural abortion,
this cutting of the umbilical chord
from: i have never met a people so
content at having been subjugated outside
the indian sub-continent,
cricket... for ****'s sake...
       as to demand other europeans
to treat them as superiors,
when sitting alongside an englishman...
****-bud-bud, the **** are you on about?!
once again: england has become the circus
for the grounding of what began
with engels and marx...
   wasn't communism born from
engels and marx observing english society?
sure... first experimented en masse in
mongolia... but its origins?

   so of course i had problems finding a suitable
mating partner... i was afraid that my nativ-zunge
would die a slow but solemn death...
that an english bridge would not consider
the worth of a bilingual child, or a polyglot,
or that she would repress the chance of my
"biological continuum nuance" to respond outside
of the anglo lingua refrain of: beside the english language?
there are quiet a few one might want to learn...

it's not easy being a first generation immigrant,
esp. if you moved aged 8, mute as a wolf
to a domesticated dog's barking...
but hey, no jihadi john in me...
           jihadi john should have been raised
bilingual... i wouldn't be the one speaking broken
tourist arabic while beheading someone...
jihadi john spoke tourist arabic...
the dichotomy of the mind to the biological
reality, beside the current, western,
"biological relativism" debate...
      clearly darwinism was "wrong"...
man is, these days, left with neither a biological
reality, nor a historical reality...
              but there is a historical reality:
but it's so knit-&-picky...
come on... philip augustus of the capetian
dynasty?
                 casimir III...
                        jeremi wiśniowiecki...
konrad I of masovia...
                           kuno von lichtenstein...
alles ist gott: und gott ist alles -
  gott mit, uns!

              mit eine leben wert leben:
    erinnerung ist die nur kino
             wert sehen eine film beim;

hell... could be worse:
   i might have translated some latin
of horace into pig-trough comfort food.
Dan Filcek Apr 2015
Electromagnetism and electrochemistry added to the expanse of erudition.
Central calculations comprised of charged consecration
Diamagnetism and also electrolysis
Took in little of the ritual pedagogy
Most influential of archaic scientists.

The base for the conceptualization of the dynamic sphere.
Introduced the physics of ensconced enthrallment
Affecting rays of light
To say nothing of the underlying relationships there
Two phenomena, both similarly discovered

Inventions: Electromagnetic induction, diamagnetism, and the laws of electrolysis.
the form of electromagnetic rotary devices
Foundation of electric motors
Truly technology was largely due to his effort
Electricity became practical for use

Scientific knowledge increased: investigating as an alchemist, discovered benzene.
Inventor of Clathrate hydrate of chlorine,
In its early form
the system of oxidation numbers, and the burner
Popularized terminology such as anode, cathode

Ultimately became the first and foremost, ultimate, and respected .
Chemistry Professor at the Institution
Position of a lifetime
He was an excellent experimentalist of conveyed ideas
Mathematical abilities in simple language  

His powers did also extend as far as trigonometry.
Took any but the simplest algebra
And worked around it
And also summarized it in sets of equations
The basis of modern theories
This year for Poetry Month, I decided to post a "found poem" every day. If writing a poem is like painting, a "found poem" is like sculpting. source - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Michael_Faraday
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2018
.oh ****! now i remember, now i remember that other school of English thought... pragmatism! everything is so rational these days, no wonder that so many mental illness diagnoses exist... apparently every deviance of, "success" is, "magically" worthy of psychiatric scrutiny... but then you get psychopaths in the upper eschallance of society... and they're immune to psychiatric scrutiny... so much for pragmatism... whatever that means these days... what?! e-scha-llan-ce... usher-lance?! oh right, ****, i was going for an adjective... echelon... my adjective? feeling up to the level / rank within an organization, and subsequently, perfecting stated rank with robust, pompousness and erudition, matching up to a pedantic exercise within the confines of either, grammar, or, diction; my bad. see... i don't get it... i could somehow couple up the ancient Greek concept of the Stoic school, and the Epicurean school (of thought)... it became crystal clear... but... but when it comes to the English school of thought? i can't make the logical-leap of a worded multiplication concerning the schools of: egalitarianism, and... pragmatism... maybe i'm just *******... but i... i sometimes can't come at a worded equals sign, or at least: a mutually inclusive / mutually exclusive sharing processor of looking at both attempts to revise 1 + 1 = 2... then again, i'm not bothered... English liberalism doesn't bother me... the English were never libertarian in letting go... who are the English? they have their equivalence among the Prussians... but, yes... i was looking for this noun, this last remaining school of thought from the Anglophone world... i was thinking... what goes well with the cognitive spaghetti that exfoliates egalitarianism? ****... what else? pragmatism! so help me god, i can't concede making this dualism of ideas, perhaps contradictory, perhaps not, as i did with classical thinking... stoicism and Epicurean school i can justify... but the English, somehow complimenting within the realm of pragmatism, and egalitarianism?! good luck, i can't do it.

currently i only identify two schools
of thought in English...
i might change my opinion
in the future...

how, just how petrified people
are of exploring dialectics,
the fear stemming out
from... having opinions that
do not deserve questioning,
such blatant solipsism...

but i do identify two schools
of thought from the English
speaking world...
o.k. three... ****...
four...

egalitarianism...
egalitarian idealism...
unitarism...
utopian-ism...        

****... four, five...
how many in total?

scholasticism, in general...

  there's one more...
i'm sure there's one more...
it's related to egalitarianism...

what's the word i'm looking
for?
a morphed liberalism
of: one freedom can eventually
over-compensate
another statement of freedom
and deride the former liberty
with a... ore ******-up
liberty...

but there was another mode of thinking,
i'm sure of it...

you know that people
are afraid of experiencing dialectics,
when they have to phrase
their opinions:
but these are my personal
opinions...
   yep... stated in a public sphere...
why is it that i don't
make videos?
      your freedom of speech
is one thing...
mine? constricted to the comment
section...
   this? an extension of thought,
since i'm bashing a blank piece
of "paper"...

what was the other root of the English
school of thought?!
no... it wasn't universalism...
England, given the stated terms...
is a covert communist state...
a subdued communist state...
a dubiousness from the empirically
tested experiment...
where did Marx and Engels
concentrate their observational
capacities if not in England?
weird...

  communism originated in England
under, said, sociological observations,
was tested in Mongolia...
and then returned via Russia to
Eastern Europe...

*****... gets to my head...
it might come to be two days later,
but i'm sure i wanted
to work with another school of thought
from the English demand
for the egalitarian take on things...

looking at the English,
i see a people burdened by a desire
to make "things"... fair...
          i see people teasing Utopia...
a people who haven't experienced
a momentary transition period
of a quasi-Utopia of communism....
within the countries that
received the Bolshevik mantra
and not the Marshall Plan payout...
even Sweden (neutral, source of inspiration
for the Nazis) and Switzerland
received Marshall Plan funds...

       but the English...
              what an oddity...
oh i don't imply a demeaning
interpretation...
       but the English are teasing
a revival of socialism...
you know how many archetypical
human emotions socialism curbs?
you can't do it unless
subjected to foreign rule...
given the current Brexit agreements:
now's your chance...

but socialism really did originate
in this fine, fine land...
Marx didn't look alongside
Engels outside of England...
they looked at Liverpool...
and children being employed...
German children had Krampus...
English children had
work in the factories...

this probably is an over-simplification
of history, but all the details
are there...
personally?
i find English existentialism
(if there is such a "thing")
over-powered by Darwinism's
over-simplifications...
Darwinism, having killed modern
or pre-modern history,
having to expand beyond
our known, and kept history...

a big bang theory i can deal
with...
i can congest it into a subscript
of words, via a conceptualization
of atoms...
and bigger atoms,
suns... protons, neutrons,
planets...
and electrons...
lost in the realm of sub-atomic
particles and antimatter...

but when i go back to Poland?
you know what i don't hear much of?
overly simplified existential
explanations pivoting on
nothing, but Darwinism...
in England it's all Darwinism,
and not much more...
i guess when Einstein disproved
Newton,
the only thing motivating
English culture boiled down
to focusing and pivoting on Darwin...

outside of England?
you know how important Darwin
is?
          in Poland... Mickiewicz...
a poet...
                         Copernicus...
            a astronomer...
            and in Russia?
Dostoyevsky...
          Tolstoy...
                     Mendeleev,
Tchaikovsky,
Rasputin,
                      Prokofiev­,
Bulgakov...
        Kandinsky...
               Anna Andreyevna...
Chekov...
                      how much is
Michael Faraday worth these
days in England,
if you're going to celebrate
only the scientists
and shove every artist
into the shadow of Shakespeare?!

i really shouldn't drink
*****...
                       i go crazy crude,
mad and... it's *****!
       you can't mellow out like
you could mellow out with
ms. amber, of the Scottish highlands!
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2018
i can't help what i am...
but what i am not is a spoken word
poet: with that generic exasperation
technique of speaking -
as if, on the verge of crying...

but what i can tell you...
i am a rigid person,
there are 3/4 of me that should
have enlisted in the army,
and only a 1/4 that went to
university...

so... given that i'm such a rigid ******...
i thought i'd tell you about
linear and vertical rhyming...
linear?
oh, that's neat & easy:

.................................... end
.................................... bend
..................................... send
..................................... wend....

basically suffix rhyming...
but! but... what Sylvia Plath
introduced?
   oh, my, god...
      transcendent of
the conceptualization of
"the" box...

her rhyme? alphabetical...
sort of...

        it's more than that...
she didn't pay due diligence on
suffix rhyming -end,
   -ing
    you name it...

you want to know what her rhyme
concept implies?

   **** me, it's sassy...

she was a rhyming weaver...
an interloper...
    words didn't have to necessarily
end in the same boundary
of an echo... echo rhyming
by the standard bearers is one thing...
she made tartan rhymes...

tartan rhyming...
kilt rhyming...

                  and it looked something
equivalent to, this:

  ceremony or Potent -
Still sky, obtuSe -
   one might Say love -
  Suddenly,
        black featherS,
black reSpit -
Season of fatigue,
SpaSmodic,
  deScend...
   Stolidly...
       no effigy... Seem...
pompouS...
                         coarSe copy...
      Bell tongue BirdS...
    Shrined on her SHelf...
too Tough to Finish...
  Seize my Senses...
ToTal neuTrality...
   deScent...
                Sanguine...
  bRick dusk...
Prose...
              plaCe...
            pompouS...
Ne­at kNits...
    weedS obScured...
SHe blenched,
miMic...
   deSpite...
baniSH...
    ******...
too tough for knife to finiSH...

      Head...
so profoundly muCH...
       piN legs...
               thoughtS...
So departS...
       S(h)eets...
Sanity...
      Tongue...
Printed Page...
  Twelve...
Sick man's Eye...
nEVER nEVER found
anyWHERE...

goodbye goodbye...
      eXclamation...
the First point...
            GHost...
   Signify...
cuckoo-land of color fields,
CRisp CUsp...
    
        the girl's dancing!
she's dancing barefoot...
no, i can't fall in love with her...
she's, dead!

    but can you see
rhyming vertically?
   all the lettering,
in capital letters?
  deviancy...
   it doesn't agree to your
box standard form of
rhyme, linearly...
  it's vertical rhyming,
it's juxtapositions on a scale
that might elongate
the winding tongue of a snake
in, anything but maracas
rattling...
sssssssssssssssssssssss.....
a wet snare...
   she's teasing...
she has escaped
the tradition of
the traditional guise of rhyme...
she has invoked
rhyme, but as an intermediating
attachment...
          forget the rigid
end-
                   -ing
with a "worthy"
   sympathiz-
                                        -ing...

what a gall...
she makes the housewives of America's
1950s twice as vampire-like,
and thrice as Stepford material...
   lucky blond to leave so much
"crap" behind...
   i could pick the maggots
from her head and make it
a day's worth of fishing
on the banks of Vistula...

she's dancing in the rain,
and all i have is my Cameo cinema
moment
with my cousin, Justine,
running barefoot where
i grew up on the cement...
and then cuddling together,
getting warmer
over one worth of an afternoon...

last time i heard...
her son Leo was born on
the 15th of May,
my birthday...
  but we've fallen out...
when her husband
put a **** under my father's
self-employment
enterprise...
   and undertook
a practice of stealing workers
from him...
great move... when you join
a family...

        nice memory though...
wish my cousin Justin all the luck
she can muster...
but when it comes to family
friendliness?
none....
                 went to her brother's
wedding... was interrogated by
her brother's best man...

   Polish drunk talk...
let's just say...
his date?
   was flashing her underwear
at me from under her magic carpet
ride of a skirt while we
smoke cigarettes and finished
off drinks, being accused of...
trying... to seriously...
hide her... exhibitionism...

   so i started punching myself
in the face to find target practice
should i ever come across
any more Polacks, drunk,
at a family wedding...
   you never know...

           hell... if ******* wanna tango...
we'll... ******* tango! ha ha.
now all i need is the raw
material... my knuckles
are either furry...
or they're itchy...
  can't exactly knock-out
my neighbors dog...
   i need a ******* mug of
a mouthwash advert...
with a grin that's, seriously
asking for a few missing teeth
to rekindle a smile!
Meg B Oct 2014
The sun hung low,
sliding down below
the trees,
whose leaves had turned a golden yellow
from autumn's adoring
kiss.

The clouds looked gray,
seeming to bring in
thunderstorms
that weren't to come,
at least not today.

We spoke of
mysteries,
created poetry in our
realizations,
harmony fostered with the gentle
breeze
as we laughed.
The aha's and uhuh's,
the self-discovery and
conceptualization,
they were the sermons,
the creed,
the metanoia.

The rooftop sunset was
the sanctuary,
the gust of wind the hymns,
the moments of silence were
moments of reverence,
our spirituality
birthed in the
gravel
under
our feet.

The world is
our religion.
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2022
i could tell you how certain stations on the London underground
smell, but i can't capture you this smell...
a bit like in that film Perfume: scents are lost over time,
with regards to places -
                            unlike the eternal pine forest...
or the zest of lemon...
                                         those are universal scents...
one could and humanity has: created a synthetic answer
and copied these scents... made synthetic tastes
a whole chemistry of a posteriori scents and tastes...
Kant and chemistry are a perfect combination...
given the classical schematic:

analytical                         analytical
a priori                             a posteriori
apples grow on               tomatoes:
trees and                          categorised as fruits          
carrots grow                    yet used as vegetables
in the earth                      the analysis being
since apples                     even though they grow
are a fruit                         on something: trees,
while carrots                    bushes, vines...
are a root vegetable,       analysis has found that
ergo?                                 they are better treated
all vegetables                   as vegetables rather than
grow in the earth            fruits, since one rarely cooks
while all fruits                 savoury meals with fruit
grow on trees                  yet the tomato is used
or shrubs                         plentifully in savoury cooking


synthetic                          synthetic
a priori                           a posteriori
■, ▲                                   in light of the given examples
(geometry)                        in the realm of the analytical
and the propositions       a priori: that fruits grow on
that come with                 trees or bushes
them:                                  there's the pineapple
e.g. c² = a² + b²                   anomaly:
or physics:                         pineapples grow on the ground
e = mc²                                (in the ground) like cabbage-heads
                                            grow in much the same fashion...

i always struggle with the a posteriori conceptualization...
in the original i wrote as can be seen above...
are tomatoes the byproduct of
analytical a posteriori knowledge?
i.e. they are fruits that are used as vegetables (used,
hell, even treated as such)... because you will not find
a tomato desert as such...
the classification of a tomato as a fruit:
given how it grows... would also invoke the cucumber
to be treated as a vegetable:
vegetables are not as juicy as fruits...
the flesh of the fruit is usually softer and certainly
more juicy... while the flesh of the vegetable
is more bulky and requires cooking and salt
to extract the juices oh a higher carbohydrate
concentrate of the fibrous nature...

pineapples... a fruit that grows like a vegetable
in the earth...
i like this "confusion" in my head...
i'm not going to clarify it...
            i leave this curiosity in my writing on purpose...
analytical a posteriori facts:
well... first having categorised the tomato as a fruit:
upon analysis... true: the tomato behaves like
a fruit... but upon analysis: after the fact:
it is better used as a vegetable...

         and the synthetic a posteriori truth about
the pineapple? then again: i know where i might be going wrong...
isn't synthetic a posteriori knowledge possible?
it's not as simple as the pineapple example
based on: fruits grow on trees while vegetables grow in
the earth... i can only find questions
on the possibility of synthetic a priori knowledge...
ergo? of course synthetic a posteriori knowledge
is possible...
    it's ingrained in chemistry...
what does synthetic a posteriori knowledge look like?

a chemist tastes a lemon... and he tries to replicate
the taste of lemon using chemicals...
he breaks down the chemistry of the lemon...
and? with due course... replicates the taste of lemon
without actually using a lemon!
he breaks the lemon to the basic components
of citric acids and whatever else is needed to replicate
the taste of lemon and grind it into a powder:
chemistry is synthetic a posteriori knowledge...
isn't it?

the examples i cited with the pineapples:
it doesn't matter that the pineapple behaves like
a vegetable when it grows...
apart from that sick idea of a Hawaiian pizza toppings...
pineapple? ham?! you what?!
that's not synthetic a posteriori knowledge:
that's just a ******* whim of bad-taste...
there's no actual synthesis of the pineapple growing
as a vegetable and the "ingenuity" of treating
it like a bad idea for a pizza topping...
the tomato: however... is a pristine example
of analytical a posteriori knowledge:
sure... it's categorised as a vegetable...
because of the way it grows... compared to actual vegetables:
but? you wouldn't allow the tomato
to be bitten into like an apple... you wouldn't bake
a tomato cake as you might bake a banana cake...
the analysis concludes: our knowledge of fruits is this...
and we have this vegetable: the tomato
that's a fruit... but it would be better suited
in being used like a vegetable...

synthetic a posteriori does exist... it just doesn't apply
to pineapples for the simply reason that they
grow like vegetables... they're still going to be fruits...
synthetic a posteriori knowledge is chemistry...
it has to exist because a pineapple is
not a synthetic a priori "idea" of TASTE let alone
virtue or however Kant framed it...

ugh... my first day back at Craven Cottage...
little ****** steward: i hate these hierarchies...
it's a petty army of high-viz. jackets...
   i wasn't the supervisor but i had some colts under
my "supervision"... i tried to smooth things over:
i did... in the end i wanted to see Fulham play
Liverpool... i spread the word around:
this is *******... they should have put us inside
the stadium...
   but... the weather was the loveliest and the Thames
was tide-out... two seagulls arguing...
in the shade: this part of London is truly mesmerising...
i love the smell of the Thames with the tide out...
in the shade under these mammoth-esque splendours
of foliage...
hell... i even managed to spot my first KONIK
(little horse)... that's slang for... those ******* that buy
tickets at the regular price... then hang around the stadium
and try to push the tickets at a hyper-inflated price...
the ****** was selling the tickets for £250 for two!
and this was after the first half finished!
i told one of the guys with a radio:
call this in...
                          i had to repeat myself about 3 times
before the management agreed to my concern...
they sent two spare police officers to the person in question...
he almost sold those ******* tickets...
one minute i see him pretend to tie his shoelaces
(he wasn't pretending) - his black cap
disappearing under the bushes... next minute:
wh'ah where?! ****** did a runner...
so he wasn't tying his shoelaces "on a whim":
he was about to do a runner...

                  that's ******* exploitation...
that's like: stealing... capitalism at its worst...
the ingenuity of crime: oh... but it's innocent crime...
it's i buy something for £30 but...
i'll sell it for you for £250...
                             now... it's not antiques! it's not a *******
van Gogh painting that has been lying around
for quite some time... gaining a repertoire and a reputation
as something good, worthwhile:
it's a ******* football match ticket!
hyper-inflation like under the Weimar Republic...
money good as "gold": "gold" as in winter fuel,
timber the new platinum!

after all: there was no real synthetic a priori knowledge:
chemistry is hardly a question of appearance,
water is clear, but so is hydrochloric acid...
what else is clear? sodium hydroxide...
                 chemistry was born from synthetic a posteriori
knowledge...
how many chemical experiments came as a surprise
a sort of anti-Eureka of synthetic a priori knowledge?
champagne springs to mind... lysergic acid comes
to mind: no one was actually trying to find these things...
e.g. they did not come about through analytical
a posteriori knowledge: they arose from
a dimension of the synthetic a posteriori knowledge:
by chance: by accident...

sure... i might be doing a ******-low-skill job right
now: and it is... i'll admit...
it's super **** sometimes:
most of the time my coworkers are either
over-bearing ego-maniacs fixated on hierarchy,
or they're lazy Somali youths...
or just plain-sighted Nimrods...
i sometimes leave my mind to wander...
that when i get the jerks in the feet like
i'm about to fall over... like for bearskin hatted
soldiers on parade...
but i leave my mind to wander:
it's not an insult if it's true...
                  no: when i was a roofer and fiddling
with inanimate things there was more focus
on the work to be done... dealing with people
is a crass differentiation from perfecting how an inanimate
ought to behave under your hands...
to turn a roll of felt into a water-insulated roof
with a roll of fleece and enough tar...
people are different: i'm sort of studying people...
gearing myself to hover in on children in schools...

if Leibniz preferred the profession of librarian
and a private intellectual life of par excellence...
i wouldn't think twice about becoming a primary school
teacher than being a secondary school
teacher of chemistry...
**** me: if drag queen hour is about to be imported
from America: i best (better) step in...
i just imagine: well... unlike a barren woman...
who has no children...
who goes into a profession akin to primary school
teaching... but then i'd arrive...
i know the obvious stereotype to battle:
PEDOHPILE! ha ha...
           Ava Lauren: just my type... plump...
full-bodied... probably the age of my mum by now...
that's my type...
i need something rounded of:
a 5.9 = a 6... just an example...
                
             but i let my mind wander... when roofing
you couldn't leave your mind to wonder...
i could... tell you of the specific scents in certain
underground stations... Baker Street? is that the one
with the Victorian arches, a station under the bridge?
i don't remember...
Putney Bridge is a beautiful station...
but today i took the route:
Romford via train... got off at Stratford... waited for a minute
for the central line...
(i love meditating on the topic of tubes maps...
there are only two important lines
in London... why? based on how many times
they intersect... the Central Line and the Piccadilly
Line... they only intersect at Holborn)...
travelled to Holborn... not sitting...
at each carriage there are these half-seats...
you're leaning back... standing-sitting...
i felt so relaxed... i gave way to the momentum
of the tube...
i was moving backwards and forwards...
head nodding... shoulders doing the mr. plastic-fantastic...
i almost tried to remember the remaining
tension in my body... the grip i had on a bottle
of water and a packet of tortilla wraps...
the rest of me was: freed...

when it comes to scents... that's one thing:
everyone knows it's a stupid idea to change tube
lines at Bank... why? well... Bank it connected
to Monument...
it's a city within a city: a London 2.0... oh oh:
yes it ******* is... never change at Bank...
anyway... as i was relaxing having closed my eyes...
i can tell you where the best sounds of
machinery exist in London?
between Liverpool St. - Bank - and Chancery Lane...
mind you... i cycle the route from time to time...
what's above? is not, what's above...
compared to cycling... this route is like:
watching the original Dune movie...
i'm strapped to a ******* earthworm...
or: being digested by one while listening to
the clag glug and clamour iron biting iron...
i sometimes do the "twirl" of the tube above
ground... just after Aldgate...
i head towards Brick Lane... toward Liverpool St.
prior to reaching Bank St.:

all the Piccadilly Stations between Holborn and
Earl's Court have this sickly sweet stench
about them... it's sickly sweet... it's: sickly sweet...

i remember back in St. Augustine's we had one
female primary school teacher...
some ****** proverb speaks the words:
woe unto you for having to care for the children
of others...
while i'm thinking: that would be a worthwhile challenge...
i don't want any of my own:
the fear of ******* them up more than
i was ****** up wears me down...
at least with the genes of strangers
i can send in an auxiliary covert party of my psyche...
who would i send in? the usual suspects...
Kant, Heidegger, Newton, Ezra Pound...
oh... the list is pretty long...

most probably Rumi hanging around with
Zhuangzi... Ovid and Horace...
ooh... terrible idea to start drinking whiskey
after binge-eating a watermelon...
the burps i'm getting back:
******* postcards from Uan Muhuggiag (Libya)...
i'm seeing camels double the number of their humps!
not good... absolutely no good

burp... ooh... this watermelon will not go down
so good... while i worry about *******
myself come tomorrow morning...
unlike the Red Hot Chilly Peppers singing
the fames of California:
what do i have? i have the countryside of Essex
and the incursions in the concrete staccato
of London... i can mediate this...

              burp: well... at least it's whiskey mingling
with the juices of a watermelon...
i much prefer that to the half-digested acidic
meat of any sort...
                 that's healthy burping and healthy farting
for your...
hmm... investing in children... that's an idea...
i once remarked to a boy in a supermarket:
you know... how a while i thought animals
were incapable of seeing 3D objects
in a 2D canvas: i.e. why wouldn't animals
watch television with men?
today i had a "Fred" pester me for a bite
of my tortilla roll...
i would have given it to him freely:
i wasn't that hungry...
   so i asked his owner: so... what's his diet like?
oh... Fred has had pretty stomach upsets...
he spent the past three days eating mulberries
from a tree...
ooh! i love mulberries: who couldn't be more upset?
the dog or the mulberries?
ugh: these kind of people:
that have their dogs on a ******* vegan diet...
hey! Fred! bite into this tortilla wrap!
i have learned that the food man eats
if also eaten by a dog tastes better:
after it was eaten by man!

o.k., fair enough Fred... you have an owner that
deserves having you: but no children...
i'd put you in the same category as a child...
children, dogs, cats...
things that might stir in man the unusual:
certainly not Darwinistic / genetic investment
that might reduce a man's hormonal balance...
mate... you look at me that dumb-***** eyed way
one more time... let me pat you on the head
like i have... you're coming with me to the land
of eternal tortillas wrapping around chicken
and bacon: there's no "yes" as there's no "no"...

but that's London for you...
            and that's also Essex for you...
i spent an entire day in London?
where did i find those cheap-*** beauties of womanhood?
i didn't find them in London:
i had to travel back to Romford to find...
i sat down to eat a snack bucket in a chicken shop:
three spicy wings, some chips...
mayonnaise and some chilly sauce...
a 7up... £3.50... i enjoyed the meal
and thought about: nothing...
nothing is usually hard to "think" about...
you get into geometry: to prolong your time at pretending
to look "cool"... when eating alone...

i hopped on the bus... watched two hunchbacks
of an elderly couple "manage" their way own:
what cruel fate... the extension of mortality
via science... may i never see myself
that old... reduced to being the child of Atlas...
no... i don't care for the sensibility of secularism
and science...
old age transcends both of these:
it's the reality of old age...
prolonged old age is best renowned
and celebrated by lizards: turtles most in fact...
mammals look weird...
mammals look weird when their life is prolonged:
unnaturally: via the basis of science!

start giving out re-prescriptions to people
with a a faith in science but no hope in hope...
start selling them hopes of eternity...
this materialistic "eternal life": is drawing us closer
to no closure...
there comes a life: there coms a death of said life...
it's not fair to pretend that the inevitiable
is "not" going to happen: it will...
the tyranny of old age...
                  by the standards of the Benelux:
i'm more than willing to bow out...

who knows! i am not willing to simply live
for the awkward presence of strangers
on a basis of anomalies and non-intrusions
of some freaked-up formalities...
to hell with that: i have no evolutionary-existential
plight of  "conscience" that might make me suppose:
on racial grounds: that the human "effort"
will disappear: outright: completely:
sure... chances are... humanity will be governed
by more people willing to ***** cities of death via
the pyramid... people engage in the magic carpet
flights of Islam and pseudo-Islam from regions
akin to Somalia and Bangladesh:
my problem? i can't live forever! can i?

et scriptum est...
i like being toyed around as being the idiot...
it helps me grow...
and it was so written...
                ergo? ut necesse sit!
(and so it must be)
  ha ha! ah ha ha h ha ha!
vulnus ferrum:
                  sanguis respiratio
scratch of iron:
breathing blood!
            
mortuus est mori: the dead must die!
vivos debet mori /
vivos non sunt exceptio!

i work among people that make my intellect:
CLOWN!
   i entertain them... i must...
but their intellect is about as much:
grappling as... i don't know what!
i'm out of metaphors and aphorisms...

                        intelligence is discouraged when it comes
to a working environment...
           i'm like Leibniz... i'm unlike Newton...
my ambitions a "cowering" in a personal enterprise...
i like the individualism of m own enterprise:
i don't hope to solve or save the problems of
a common man... nope!
                
last time i heard? the train has arrived:
i also heard: the train is leaving...
well... i'm i geared up:
what do i care for the famines in Ethiopia?!
i don't care for claiming responsibilities for
people who don't take responsibilities for
themselves!
starve?! **** it... why not?"
oh right... one of the Somali types?!
pretend it's work by hiding behind the bushes?!
ergo? behind the bushes i pretend to shower you
with free bread and pork? don't like pork?
eat dirt instead!

i'm done: free-loaders: i'm done with them...
i'm so ******* with these Somalis that you can't even begin to comprehend!
Robin Carretti Jan 2019
Keep up the good work
We heard that before
Forevermore the
everlasting time
No riddles just Google
investing in giggles
Magnifico's eyes
on the tiger

Just a spoon full of sugar
Her Meds after
In the afterlife sounds
"Promising more
Love compromising"
A magnifying glass
change your seating
When your chair
Overwhelms you

Take a City bus
Real Estate going
stale bread the
big chill
Houses only a number
What a chill pill

We need more money Bills
Big number head
Magnifying glass cracked
She's been Sherlocked
The snow hibernation
The whites of your eyes
camouflaged feeling raged
Paying your dues
Being Recognized

Dying has no Guarantee's
Those hot buns on the run
So frightened
So fast and furious
Magnificence
The scent of a women
Making no sense
Bigger than life crazy
Never a time to be lazy
Like old bones, you fall

Do you envy the one
Superpower rich you
have the pocket watch
Success chair but the
poor soul was a mess
in her bigger size dress
He was selling magnifying
glass sales rep hippo

magnifying lips bravo
Your home is your
Castle

Conceptualization
Big Wow Graphic Artist
So magnifying but sweet
lying con-artist
Computer monster chair
She left her magnifying glass
On his X files and wrong
wife's finger

Such dreaming world is
streaming can a chair you
waited for all your life
feel so wanted
he's wanted all over
Is your wish granted?
All tacky glue another
clue little boy blue

One last shooting star
Magnificence by far
To be cherished  and
remembered and loved
But you're still holding the
magnifying glass
 Let's be blessed things
will pass

We will always hear the ring
Forever young "Go Bling"
She will always be young
To Sing
Whats big or small the magnifying glass just a click or touch did we encounter so much. To go beyond our eyes stars and Mars is everything you wished for up to par
galen treger Mar 2010
is it faith or is it life?
is the humanization of god in correlation with my loved ones who watch over me?
is it weird that i believe nanny and poppy and grandpop watch over me but i cant grasp the conceptualization of god?
maybe because it is confirmed that they are concrete beings whom i loved, and loved me.
is that a different believed concept?
when something is bad that is reality.
when something is good, someone is watching out for me.
it is said that god watches over us, protects us, forgives us, and comforts us.
that is what our parents do. and they are concrete beings.
that is also what i have always believed nanny to do.
i always think she is with me. poppy and grandpop too.
like the guy at subway with the stamp
that was poppy.
he always had random little things when anyone needed them.
like pocket tissues in his back pocket or lifesaver breath mints in his shirt pocket, next to a pen.
or when things work out in really good timing. irony.
when i need to be strong, honest, and self abiding,
thats grandpop.
he taught me to be strong willed and that life is what you make it
and all of the things on this earth that are beautiful,
is nanny.
every bit of warmth i feel on my body from the sun
every breeze that doesn’t give me a chill
every perfect summer night with every perfect summer sky
every sip of red wine and every handful of m&ms;
all of these people raised my mom.
so she is here. in their form.
carrying on their traditions and their ways
that must be the circle of life.
onlylovepoetry Jun 2023
I am afflicted with a 24/7 romantic nature (olp)


genetic or prophetic, the consciousness seeks out
the tiny things, the soft stroking, the single flower,
the necklace iridescent, a new love poem,
(if such were possible!)

the overflowing heart dam is spilling over in relief,
now, merely tolerable fulsome, we go about the day
ever alert for the next new way to, say it again
but differently, a happily exhausting task, this 24/7
employment contract that grants no vacation days,
so if your eyes should foresee my eyes a-glistening,
my lips moving silently recording a new conceptualization,
do not disturb
if you please, for this contract offers
no excuses, especially for
Acts of Nature!


…………

“Unpredictable and verifiable acts of nature (such as catastrophic fire, flood, tornado, earthquake, or other acts of nature of similar intensity) or other unpredictable and verifiable circumstances beyond the control of the unit member which precludes (or includes!) the unit member from reporting to duty.”
T Zanahary Nov 2012
Life.
4 Letters.
Numeric assignments,
I stall to answer
"what's the question?"
with
can you repeat,
my answer's too foreign,
conceptualization, it makes
sense.
Is, question or answer
deep thinking,
because the answer ran on
and on
until it was deemed compound
and split into finer artist pieces.
The question I just don't
get.
I'm stalling
to question statements
when I respond.
Numeric assignments,
4 Letters.
Life.
tread Feb 2013
My life is occasionally a continuum of anxiety of and or relating to the possibility of my going insane. My greatest fear is schizophrenia, thanks mostly to Aldous Huxley's Doors of Perception. At my worst, I am standing in a Wal-Mart under the surrealistically bright lights of dead consumption waiting for my head to become an unfamiliar place filled with unfamiliar voices. It has never happened. The closest I ever came was on the night of February 4th, 2013 (which, in this case, just so happens to be last night), when in a state of silly pointless inconsequential anxieties I thought I heard the faint hum of an unfamiliar voice chanting, 'Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey.' It went away, but the moment I started hearing it I freaked out a little inside as I was lying in bed having just finished reading. I attributed it to the possibility of over-reading, over-conceptualization, not enough time in the real world. I blamed reading and writing and watching for the feeling that I'm never quite in the real world, because my head reads and writes and watches and asks itself; “are you real? Can you truly say with any certainty that you exist? How much sense does depth perception make, and now go to sleep and dream in your head because one day dreaming will be considered a symptom of mental disease. Enjoy it before it terrifies your strange fettered wits.” Sometimes I listen to music in my head and wonder if that's insane. Sometimes I listen to music in my head and contemplate innocence. Sometimes I listen to music in my head and sing along. Sometimes I listen to music in my head and realize all music comes from inside so I calm and I calm and I calm.
galen treger Mar 2010
high point. consistent. bat **** crazy. summer. warmth. sun. beach. boy. this boy.

first warm day for the windows of my car to be open, for flip flops to be worn, for jeans and a tee appropriate attire, and for reggae to be blasting through my speakers. at the point at which is intense enough to fool my mind and my body into thinking and feeling summer. its the moment i appreciate everything around me. it feels magical that no matter how harsh winter was,  spring comes and that no matter how unstable anything in my life is, the seasons will keep changing. ive felt that same magical first warm day feeling for 20 years and for every year i live to experience the cycle of seasons, i will feel that magic. nature is the most stable instability. it may rain when we predict sun, but the rain will stop and there will be a day of sun indefinitely.  

sometimes i think i am working toward accepting  the absurdity of life. working to create relationships with a preconceived notion that they will fail. i escape my misery by caring for other people and recreating childhood memories because that was the last time i lived everyday of my life without going over the conceptualization of hate, lack of innocence,  and constant dissatisfaction.

over the last few months i have realized that there is no way to stop the perpetuation of *******, prevent me or anyone else from getting hurt, i have to live in this moment. and be happy in this moment. which i have managed to do quite well these days. with these friends. and this boy. and this homework. and this haircut. and this cold wind. everything just keeps going.

there is no god. the concept of healing and living is people, community, and yourself.

feeling purposeful is nothing but appreciating nature and your surroundings. i feel like an asset to the world when i sit in the woods and look around and fall in love with the creek, the swaying trees i am sitting under, and the sky so blue.

like vivid art that is created... and colors purposely mixed making insane shades and images. but outside of the art i am living inside the world the art is based off of. how ******* amazing is that? people look at paintings and think, how beautiful, how serene, how naturally extraordinary. but those people don’t take the time to open their eyes to the world the paper images are based upon, the world they live in and take for granted.

our brains are amazing. humans underestimate our brains immensely. our brains retain things - memories, songs, morals, mistakes, our whole lives. we are in college, frustrated and stressed because we cant bring ourselves to study, or we do poorly on a test. but in reality our brains retain the information linked to sight, sound, smell, touch and taste. remembers every little thing and sends it to the front of your brain when you need it.

the real problem in this world is engaging in life. not changing the huge problems like haiti or starving children in africa. those problems are easier to grasp and talk about. but what about the homeless man you see right in front of you?  people have to stop trying to changing the world and try to change what is right in front of them, affecting them and the people they are surrounded by. what about the animals who are becoming extinct? so many people are worried about them. how the **** are you going to claim to be an activist and protect all those little creatures? we relate ourselves to other people other wild animals and pets, because they look like us. they have eyes, they have noses, they have lips, and they live in families. but what about rivers and trees and leaves on the ground in fall all together living side by side needing sun and oxygen just like us. but getting your head around the concept of living green seems unreachable. we cant sleep. we cant stop eating. we cant stop drinking. we cant stop ******* consuming.
refresh mesh May 2015
Do all people find ways to torture themselves?
We could have colors
and blindness
stacked on our shelves

but we are keen,
enigmatic,
and desperately mean.

lay off the Pause button and I'll Play
the string of
your harp
that nobody else knew how to start
You're ******* welcome,
I'm glad you see I tried,
never did I imagine they'd ignore me when I
cried, or when I
stretched out my hand
for love instead of admiration
comfort instead of more opinions of their conceptualization
of my place in our ***** swarm of civilization

it doesn't mean a thing to be complimented
when you want more than recognition
are boys stupid, or am i stupid for loving them (:
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2018
i seem to have found a new impetus
to write,
   when i was embarking on
a £3000+ a year tuition fee
at UCL's SSEES school,
   i had this diabolical desire to write
a book about Hey-Zeus!
   but then the nag hammadi
came into orbit...
   and i suddenly lost interest
reading footnotes of encyclopedic
entries...
      so i had to find something...
against the trend of poets
who write about reading books
in the upper echelon of society -
yeah, that kind of artsy-fartsy poetry...
i write... about...
   not having the resources
to write a book...
   about the geographic anomaly
of the spread of
    of the beulenplage,
         zee...   schwarzplage...
within the confines of the immune area
of europe, in which i was born...
just between old capital Cracow,
and Masovia...
           this... little... scratch of land...
which apparently first established
the content for the idea
                   of quarantine...
i only write these little "poems"...
because, i know,
  that i will never have the proper
resources to write a book about
this anomaly, in the phenomenon
that was the bubonic plague...
genghis khan could appear in this
time period and say:
   ****... more effective than me...
i don't write about reading
books... i write about not being
able to write a book of my eclectic
interests congregating...
   why this geographic anomaly?
given... the islanders of Britain were
not immune...
             i wish i could have
written a Hey-Zeus book...
   but, like i said, the nag hammadi
library crept to my attention...
but... how come the region of Europe,
where i, and my ancestors were born...
had some immunology working
in their favor?
   plus... i figured...
  i already have a chemistry degree,
why not play the drop-out card...
given that i was studying with
people 3 years shy of my post-21...
and...
         they just met London
coming from the suburbs of
Birmingham....
    who, later, invited me,
   to student theater production
depicting the Gaza strip mentality...
telling me: WE'LL CRUCIFY YOU!
i sort of nodded... imitating
a suggestion: a ha...
                and supposing myself
offensive by not speaking...
   left with a supposed phantom
of Roy Orbison (who was always better
than Elvis).    
             i swear to god,
even in high school, you made alliances
with certain bullies...
   you befriended them...
    the ones that succumbed to trouble
by physical assault...
   and you became sort of friends
with them... like Ryan Curmy...
   could have been a great footballer...
last time i met him,
high as a kite...
popping ****** pills... aged...
in his early twenties...
           who smacked dreadlock Ashley...
tall as Goliath, dumb as a ******...
it's not like we were even friends...
but we shared a pax non bellum...
     so yeah...
i write, because i have a shadow impetus...
i wish i could have had enough
resources to write about the geographic
anomaly of the bubonic plague...
      surrounding,
the, probably first, conceptualization
of               quarantine.
Vernarth calls Theus, Etréstles calls Vikentios, liberation is near! Dyonisius has to leave for Spinalonga with Wonthelimar and his entourage. Particles of liberation were divided with the immortality proposals of Wonthelimar and Marielle Quentinnais, transmitting ribs of the Speleothemes that harassed them extraterrestrially, until they became theologized in Theus, Vikentios's brother, committing himself to Elefthería or Freedom of praxis, before the gold, in their own alienating chance, are distinguished in the centers of knowledge of Spinalonga, as an entity of the five crosses of Theus, for the conceptualization of this human islet as a sentimental skin of the plague in Vernarth's parapsychology, through Wonthelimar for experience the intersection of Theusiles in honor of Theus with his comrade Vikentios for a priori and a posteriori, with events that will take place in this leprosarium. Kalydon bears a strong similarity to Kalidona in Messolonghi's Koumeterium. Being multi-assigned to Elounda northeast of Crete, like northeast Gethsemane, or the affliction ***** of the right lobe of Golgotha. Volume VII, is the compendium of Wonthelimar twice VV, with its double iteration, that is, VII, this acronym would facilitate access to the area of the future Leprosarium, a posteriori near said peninsula, and ditched from the continent that knew how to distance it as its adopted daughter Spinalonga "Long Splinter" who was now divorcing the peninsula. The fortification of the Venetian raids before the attacks of pirates.

Wonthelimar is seen in the mirror of the Chauvet lagoon, and before the prefixed arch of the Manes Apsidas, when they took the island in advance before they entered this artificial island flood of luminescence in 1578 by the Venetians who presumably feared the meddling by the Apsidas to seize the island, then leaving Crete plunged into a hostile coastline elevated in the foundational cavity of the Essene crewed vessels, they fit into the ship's bow that will be placed on the opposite side of the peninsula, thus avoiding that the ships would list by the low bottom that fluctuated between both portions of earth separated prematurely. The Greek impregnability did not bow before the otomanians by hiding, like Markos Botsaris in Messolonghi with themselves thus subduing them, considering more than sixteen hundred years of the chronological gap that separated this grievance that transcended under the ramparts, putting the settlement of the Tome VII, that is, from the acronym of Wonthelimar and its parapsychological union, which finally came to the aid of the Christians who fled from the Otomanians when they were empowered from the island, with the revolt of 1866, here the rebellious Christians pressed for the Turks to leave the site of a siege in 1903. Specifically from Lerapreta, the Kyrios of Vernarth appeared opening paths from Lasithi, the purpose of this a posteriori parapsychology of Vernarth, would bilocate with their expedition masters, preparing to welcome their ***** relatives on the island from the migration of the ottoman us. Forever as a ***** limen, to be bilocated in the Profitis Ilias, after burying all the lepers commemorating them of restored morbidity after forty days, just as it was in Jericho with the Mashiach, and the Apsidas Manes escaping from the Mashiach.

The eschatology of liberation is confessed with the mythological and parapsychological transformation of Spinalonga as attempts at the misery that evaded the wretched custodians of the Christians who organized themselves from the apocryphal prefixal German or acronym of Wonthelimar as Wo "where, and Thelimar, from the Greek Tou Limar, which would mean "decompose." Finally pointing out the hybrid imprint of the appellation granted by the Manes Apsidas who had stayed on the reef since it was abandoned by a priest. This Tou Limen was an appellation that was provided to weaken them from all the deprivation of Faith in the Christians on this island. The schematic parallel stretched between the two stages with the smallest concatenation since the first century AD. C., until 1600, making this quantum leap the Christian science that understood the democratic causality of extemporaneous events, without having any dimension or category of thought for those who differ or not, especially when the bodies and souls of Christians are They pirated everything, and of themselves, generating condemning existential stress as a source of static synergy, and of God-Mundis in the sketch of science that leads religious man to unite with existential cavemen, in the utilitarian health passages in Jerusalem, specifically in *** Bei Himnon, as a bilocation base in Spinalonga on the face of the leprosarium that was created as the first holocaust or body dump in 1900 without the ápsychos (without a soul), asking for compassion towards the praetorian militiamen masses of the remote past.

The dilemma is create-destroy since Wonthelimar had been moving rapidly through the intraterrestrial slabs near the Kalydon peninsula, before reaching the Kyrios entrusted by Vernarth in Lerapetra, Lasithi. Here they would join with Theus and Vikentios, two Orthodox Christians who were waiting for this procession to later return to Kalydon. The coordinates were alienated in the dilemmas of an anxious Anthropokairós or psychic fear of a past that was three-dimensionally present, towards a future between two different temporal quanta. The entourage was united with a great will to move great tons of time that were intertwined with the almost extinct nature, but noble in resisting that so many fools fought in lands that will never belong to anyone, especially when the storm of the apocalypse thunders the primeval. that Atlas sustains so as not to sink us with his pole, and save all unconverted humanity, making servitudes towards the land of putrid leaf and not the other way around, after so many failed attempts of a Hyletica, or usurpations of matters that are alien to him. certain improper uses such as the mantle of the precious ozone of Eden. The enthronement of the creator will be on the created and will be present, and yes it will be! De Spinalonga with his holocaust of matter will magnetize the mutuality of perished matter in the paw of evils that could not understand his soul matter.

Theus enthroned in Kalydon, here he waited for Wonthelimar before crossing to the islet. His brother Vikéntiko was objectifying himself with his spur scientist in the opening of a new rebirth, in this navel that will seek to untie the aphonia that was difficult with the smallest ellipsis that it implies, by intimidating the miserable prospect that nothing will be redeemable, even later to raise the standards of truly real and not virtual freedom, when the Vexillum that Wonthelimar brought to institute the Genius Loci of Spinalonga appeared. He came along with Marielle, Dyonisius, and Vlad Strigoi. The ethical debate from now on will focus on how to exalt the lepers and *** Bei Himnon and Spinalonga after the Manes Apsidas disassociated themselves from the ethical debate on the island after the departure of the Otomaniacs. The critical evolution will be for the hopeless of a definitive residence that conceptualizes the abandoned, and totally destitute of the chamber or convalescence session, taking them to the Mysterium Ecclesiae, carrying in themselves doctrinals that have supremacy and predominance of the relief of the drama of an existence gray and dark, of those who lie under dire diseases, with advanced duels and an exempt dogmatic formula.

The astrophysics of Spinalonga shows here a universe that distances itself from inextricable nothing, and nothing that alludes to navigating or discovering the point of a ba-ab point, with astrophysical interlocutors that emanate from the realities of stories, which occur more prone to whom be able to resist morbidity with total Christian doctrine, although still asserting itself in coming cycles where Christians are observed fleeing the formulations of a great theologian astrophysicist named Mashiach, who will unite them with the lipoid of Orion, or with the two quantum bracers of *** Bei Himnom and Spinalonga. The quantum record can be cited with immaterial alchemy that emerges from a retrograde biological evolution, for those who believe in archaeology as a state and complement of the logic of the omnipresent-bilocated God in Vernarth parapsychologies, going back to times that passed, passed and they will pass in any dimension of the common man, and whoever is added in the impersonal value in a dynasty of Christian thought, which accommodates the Lodging Ghost of Theus, together with the Mashiach, for a holistic with new body prototypes and souls, which would redesign a paradise definitive. The gaps will give guessed…! And the whole will be to create supposed voids under the law of the conjectured whole, here the continents will pilgrim, containing the same Rabbi co-responsible for all dualism that is ingratiated with divine omnipotence.

Low are freedoms as a final cause, an efficient cause that brings together greater merits of acquiring the personal vote, by acquiring inimitable tenors throughout the cosmos and archetype of man, which does not end with its used prototype substance, relating as one created after the creator told him that he would never abandon him, perhaps being Theus? Spinalonga, a city of the leprosarium, was distinguished from the apprehensions of the Anthropokairos and from the privations of the Apsidas Manes, without pain or fears that will redouble the rudders that unite it to this geomantic duplicity, uncreating mutations that would not appear in the limited collective imagination, rather in the existence that everything is at once, especially when the verb recovers the creative act, towards divine infinity, in Vernarth's kenosis or empty will, purging all of humanity ... It will be more meat on Patmos.
Volume VII - Spinalonga, Manes Apsídas
Conscious May 2016
He has a job, he works out,
He paints, he reads,
Honesty is honestly all that he's about
He's cut, he bleeds

A writer, a fighter,
Piano player and drummer
He leaves a dark room, always a little brighter
Tennis, soccer, yes, a runner

He draws, he cooks,
He provides thoughts of insight
And yet, overlooked, dot dot dot He's a crook
Judged by those who have blind sight

Deceitful, lier,
Hypocrit, controller
Disrespectful womanizer
One ****** up troller

It's just an interesting lesson in general.  
Painting an accurate picture of societies funeral

It shows the mindset, the perception
The deception of proper conceptualization.
The inability to use context plagues our nation.

How morals are constructed by biased filters
Right and wrong determined by Twitter, the ultimate thriller.

It shows the true nature of society's situation
But hey you know this already, happy graduation.
Generation
In a moment and an eternity,
Trapped in the crossroads of apocalypses,
I saw peace.
And knew the solace that can be found
In the breadth of a moment
And the terror and awe
Held in the myopia of eternity.

It is an old cliché, to ‘live in the moment’ but a strong truth that is understood by few. Eternity represents the  multitude of moments that ever were or ever will be, the conceptualization of eternity in and of itself generates limitations these moments never knew. Eternity as a concept that represents our attempt to harness multitudes of moments, the very attempt of which epitomizes the limit of our perspective. Our ability to understand these moments fails as soon as we attempt to organize them into a single concept. In these instances our need for rationality seems to outweigh our desire to accurately understand the world around us.

I beg you to leave your rationality behind and refrain from limiting your ability to perceive a moment by giving in to the paradigm of eternity. Time and how we understand it are the backbones of how we organize society, relate to each other and find meaning in the world. So unless you find yourself enlightened and living in a just world you may want to reconsider how you understand time… you may want to withdrawn your investment in the paradigm of eternity and consider the moment for what it truly is
Conscious Feb 2017
It must be nice to sit on that thrown.
Looking down, striking innocent civilians like a missile happy drone.

Armed with hurtful statements, blindly firing accusations, based on evidence that you claim to be common sense, seemingly Heaven sent.

Reliance on misconceptions derived from your own blind biased cognizance is pure bliss.... ignorance.

It must be nice to not miss, all that you have missed in life, such as avoiding relationships, mistakes and hardships that life forces you to take, regardless of whether or not you have the confidence in yourself to know you can actually make ... it.

**** ... it must be nice to finally sit up off of that throne and fly so ******* high like the most expensive drone your precious money can buy, to look down at everyone with a big *** frown that you have won from spending the last 22 years of your life having "fun" pretending to understand the meaning of strife by watching computer screens and playing games with virtual reality teams.

"**** boys and ***** girls"... coming from a mouth that hasn't yet lived in the real world. No wonder you make everyone secretly hurl.
You're wrong, they are just people so stop looking at life through a ******* self righteous peep hole.

It must be nice to shoot accusations with minimal to no contemplation, while avoiding any due diligence by never seeking out deeper intuitive evidence that could contribute to smarter conceptualization before sentencing your victims to passive damnation.

You! are what is wrong with this **** nation. Lack of perspective is what plagues the evolution of our creation.

It is time that this was mentioned.
The ability to empathize has been under deconstruction and detention of the proper correction is the root cause for all of this ******* tension.

Lack of perspective, my friends, will be our greatest downfall.
So please, I implore you all, not to be like the Indian prince who merely thinks he knows how to judge other people's innocence.
Deniece Long Sep 2016
Self contamination charred an insurgent heart,
A soul's frail remnants combatively desecrate.
Fading to nothingness, his being a mere hull,
Wailing goes unheard in this putrid hollow den.

The air's stench reflective of a fowl sordid life.
Insatiable quenchless greed paired with vainglory
Gives rise to full-scale fated annihilation,
Detachment and desolation seize sanity.

Obscurely repressed memories randomly flash,
Shadows appear and ill willed voices resonate.
Through mad distorted conceptualization,
He envisions himself stepping out of his doom.

Delusional thoughts provoke him to attempt flight,
Somehow elude his inevitable demise...
Yet enfeeblement proves to be victorious,
Powerless to climb he resigns to the darkness.......
All the pain of all the souls mashing away in a great battle of long lances and fire
In perpetual anguish at the realization of our own ignorance
Everyone finds it easier to turn the guns around
And in doing so turn them on themselves
And this is what we call progress

For men that sit in rooms clacking away on ponderous theory
Find no voice in the world at large
And only in the exorcism of demons can we be rid of them
So may it all hangout
The most acidic bile laden stomach dream
Of pungent hate
Spurs the horse ever forward
Until the great lamp burns at its brightest
And the inferno of infinite souls fully realized
In the capacity of will
Only strengthen it
And bring about the most golden of ages
with the realization of the great project
Of the true moral will

And in that very theoretical moment of revelation,
Finally in union with that beautiful Conceptualization
Of the world without flaws
Will we find peace?
or will we stifle all our lust?
Does the river come spill to the Ocean?
Or Dry Homogenous Dust?

Is the problem in the difference?
Or the lack of its acceptance?
Will a captain-less ship reach the shore
with all its crew?
Or is a flawed diamond the best that we can do?
Will the Will remain when the moral flags unfurl?
Or is there some third thing that keeps the best of both worlds?
skyy omalley Jun 2020
ed,,zinger suivante,,tels handknits finish,,cagefuls basinlike bag octopodan,,imbossing vaporettos rorid easygoingnesses nalorphines,,benzol respond washerwomen bristlecone,,parajournalism herringbone farnarkeled,,episodically cooties,,initiallers bimetallic,,leased hinters,,confidence teetotaller computerphobes,,pinnacle exotically overshades prothallia,,posterior gimmickry brassages bediapers countertrades,,haslet skiings sandglasses cannoli,,carven nis egomaniacal,,barminess gallivanted,,southeastward,,oophoron crumped,,tapued noncola colposcopical,,dolente trebbiano revealment,,outworked isotropous monosynaptic excisional moans,,enterocentesis jacuzzi preoccupations,,hippodrome outward googs,,tabbises undulators,,metathesizing,,sharia prepostor,,neuromast curmudgeons actability,,archaise spink reddening miscount,,madmen physostigmin statecraft neurocoeles bammed,,tenderest barguests crusados trust,,manshifts darzis aerophones,,reitboks discomposingly,,expandors,,monotasking galabia,,pertinents expedients witty,,chirographies crachach unsatisfactoriness swerveless,,flawed sepulchred thanksgiver scrawl skug,,perorate stringers gelatine flagstones,,chuses conceptualization surrejoined,,counterblasts rache,,numerative,,delirifacients methylthionine,,mantram dynamist atomised,,eternization percalines hryvnias pragmatizing,,reproachfulnesses telework nowts demoded revealer,,burnettize caryopteris subangular wirricows,,transvestites sinicized narcissus,,hikers meno,,degassing,,postcrises alikenesses,,sycophancy seroconverting insure,,yantras raphides cliftiest bosthoon,,zootherapy chlorides nationwide schlub yuri,,timeshares castanospermine backspaces reincite,,coactions cosignificative palafitte,,poofters subjunctions,,aquarian,,theralite revindicating,,cynosural permissibilities narcotising,,journeywork outkissed clarichords troutier,,myopias undiverting evacuations snarier superglue,,deaminise infirmaries teff hebephrenias,,brainboxes homonym lancelet,,lambitive stray,,inveigled,,acetabulums atenolol,,dekkos scarcer flensed,,abulias flaggers wammul boastfully,,galravitch happies interassociation multipara augmentations,,teratocarcinomata coopting didakai infrequently,,hairtails intricacy usuals,,pillorise outrating,,cataphoresis,,furnishings leglen,,goethite deflate butterburs,,phoneticising winiest hyposulphuric campshirts,,chainfalls swimmings roadblocked redone soliloquies,,broking mendaciousness parasitisms counterworld,,unravellings quarries passionately,,onomatopoesis repenting,,ramequin,,mopboard euphuistically,,volta sycophantized allantoides,,bors bouclees raisings sustaining,,diabolist sticks dole liltingly,,curial bisexualisms siderations hemolysed,,damnabilities unkenneling halters,,peripheral congaing,,diatomicity,,foolings repayments,,hereabouts vamosed him,,slanters moonrock porridgy monstruous,,heartwood bassoonist predispositions jargoon dominances,,timidest inalienable rewearing inevitably,,entreating retiary tranquillizing,,uniparental droogs,,allotropous,,forzati abiogenetic,,obduration exempted unifaces,,epilating calisaya dispiteously coggles,,vestmented flukily ignifying complished hiccupy municipalize,,pentagraphs parcels sutler excavates,,stardust miscited thankfulness,,fouter pertused,,overpacks,,guarishes hylotheism,,pi Fresh blood seeps through the line parting her skin and slowly colors her breast red. I begin to hyperventilate as my compulsion grows. The images won’t go away. Images of me driving the knife into her flesh continuously, ******* her body with the blade, making a mess of her. My head starts going crazy as my thoughts start to return. Shooting pain assaults my mind along with my thoughts. This is disgusting. Absolutely disgusting. How could I ever let myself think these things? But it’s unmistakable. The lust continues to linger through my veins. An ache in my muscles stems from the unreleased tension experienced by my entire body. Her Third Eye is drawing me closer.
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2018
even i didn't expect Heidegger's VII - XI
to be so centrist on account
of pedagogy...
a reading tedium... sure...
i wasn't expecting so much concern for
pedagogy in the 20th century,
but i guess a concern
for pedagogy stems from
the 20th century,
and the 21st century is rife
with pedagogy posits of
notable interest...
no...
it's not easy...
it takes weeks,
months,
perhaps even a year or two..
to finish reading
a book of said genre...
unless it's Kierkegaard...
then it's butter to
a warm toast...
     Kierkegaard is perhaps
the most readable philosopher
to date...
     the rest are a tedium,
because they have to encompass
the replica of the tedium of existence...
per se...
          akin to:
you never listen to Wagner...
you listen to Wagner,
in the sense...
  there's only Wagner...
and no other music exists
outside of, Wagner...
               i guess that's how
solipsism implodes and is
made rational...
                    i guess inverted solipsism
works akin to:
Wagner...
      it's not that "you" believe
that only "you" exist...
that's what a child might expect
to experience...
no... when appreciating
someone's work...
   a text, a painting...
   a piece of music...
   what doesn't actually exist
is a "self"...
but what does: are two individuals...
a twinning of the selves
that nullifies both within
the conceptualization
of both individualistic concerns,
for, a, "self"...
              i listen to Wagner
minus the orchestra...
  and i have no nationalistic
allegiance to Chopin...
                 there is none...
**** me...
  i'd forsake my bias for Händel...
     akin to that time i missed
Messiah as the Royal Albert Hall...
where i went to the brothel instead,
and kept hearing the opera
in my head while i ****** her soulful
yet silly embrace...
   i'd forsake my bias for
Händel:
  if it only be:
               Wagner, minus the orchestra!
the bare minimalism of
a once encountered doubling
of effort!
                    and always, always,
said minimalism,
exposed on, a piano...
             no violin...
                  the foundation is different...
Wagner works pristine
assumptions within a piano confines...
Strauss i'm sure will doll dance
the Vienna waltz on merely a violin...
          
but there will always be something
haunting about exposing Wagner
to nothing more, than a piano...
an unsettling: stillness...
   a harmonious marriage toward
existence, and post-existence -
minding the artifact that is death...

i can't look elsewhere for culture than
in the pseudo-genesis story
incubating the Germans as
source material...
                 dritte reisch or not...
   even the Yids bemoan a sour taste
for Schubert...
given the historical artifacts...
               after all...
the Hebrews invested the most in
assimilating into the German language...
for ****'s sake!
terrible Polish accents...
but spoke northern Hebrew:
a mongrel of Hebrew and German...
Yiddish!

                           such is the graveness
of the lament...
   a mere killing is what it is...
but undermining creating a new mongrel
language?
  devouring...
                   even with 10 million dead...
a quasi-language,
  a marriage of German and Hebrew...
****! gone? within a span of 6 years
if not longer?
          
i know how i feel about language...
sorry, i'm not french,
i don't push it outside the realm of
reasonable logic, so i refuse to "i" my way
out some sort responsibility...
    
perhaps that's why i'm not fond
of either French philosophy schooling:
too impracticable...
or the English philosophy schooling:
too practicable (pragmatic etc.) -

assured, as i am:
there were only two "schools" of thought:
Greek... or German...
and i can't be dealing with
outdated cliches concerning
the Greeks, in order to get laid...

yes yes, the live not investigated:
Socrates...
yes yes, the theory that only your self exists:
solipsism...
  ******* yawn...

but i'm not ashamed to have
to read a philosophy book unlike a novella...
technically you're not
supposed to...
   if you do: you really haven't read it...
where's the interlude of thinking?
the footnote non-existent in
the book, but much existent
in your head?

   frankly...
  i'm disappointed at Heidegger's
    ponderings VII - XI...
i never anticipated so much
pedagogical stipulation...
    
                  but then again...
the most daft, sour, most dry writing
by a German in this genre...
out-competes this sickening
English mockery of realism -
this... pragmatism...
       this... over-insured posit from
the focus of biology...
           it's like i want to
spew my intestines out,
and then ingest them in sushi
bite-sized mini-horrors...

                 i can't read an English
philosophy book, nor
the French...
i tried...
       i really tried...
                   vague success with the French
ascribing philosophy to fiction...
but the English?
they're ******* islanders!
   what is a philosophy of islanders
other than the two tenets:
isolationism and eccentricity?!

         not much...

          i'll die sooner than find myself:
soon... reading a book by Locke...
can't stomach that ****...
  
great poets! Milton over Dante:
any day...
              pretty ****** thinkers, though;
and don't get me started
on the "supposed" genius of
Elgar...
    ******* wombat...
                      an elephant stepped
on one of his ears, in which he related,
constantly hearing a jazz
trumpet which he could never pen
down...

   different story with
ralph vaughan williams...
  *******...
   EVERY, SINGLE, TIME...
i cry like a baby with the right spike
of bourbon when i play
thomas talis...
            but philosophy?
the English don't know philosophy...
never have, never will...

unless you impose
something relating to monetary exchanges...
hell... they assure other
Germanic uncles and aunts...
that they're not inclined to
the stereotypical *** mentality;
which of course... they are...
and yet... of lately...
very ****** when it comes
to managing money.
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2018
new favorite past-time?
listening to the ex_machina
soundtrack,
notably the track
hacking...
while drinking,
perched on the window-sill,
eyes closed,
imitating
the movements of
a robot...
you know...
jerking motions,
one inch in
length with
regards to the previous
position...
in a slide-show conceptualization
of s stop, search,
stop, search logistics...
go figure...
a drunk would have
to conjure up said imitation,
to be left alone,
when it comes to his neighborly
interaction / interference...
like Nietzsche said:
some people really do
go mad...
others?
pretend to be mad...
in order to be left alone.
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2018
see... i don't like how mental illness
is portrayed by the media,
so much so, the labels:
loner, loser...
           esp. regarding the males
of this species...
   not my type of cup-cake -
or tea party...
             i hate to point this out:
but Muhammad had a heart of a Sufi
at times...
no... i can't defend Christianity
for, precisely their misunderstandings of
the negation of ease: their,
dißease flagellation...
   abhor it...
                 what the **** did the Pollacks
do to invent a medium of
            confinement -
so the bubonic plague didn't affect
the region of land i originate from?
how did they think up the concept oof
quarantine?
                       meßmerißing...
i once studied history at UCL with
the notion of writing a book about Jesus...
honest to god...
              but, come to think of it...
the peculiarity of Poland during the spread
of the bubonic plague...
        wet *****... i'm all over that ****...
thumb up my *** to, "supposedly" increase
my chances of an *******...
funny... that's funny...
never fails with prostitutes...
sure as **** worth a fiery *** after
greasing my tongue with a chicken curry
with extra chillies...
but, otherwise?
   if i am Oedipal....
i can't claim the Madonna-***** complex
for ******* "dysfunction"...
was i ever ******* a woman,
or merely an actress?!
     oh... right... psychosis...
people who never go mad preposterously
"think" that the faculty of
language disintegrates...
funny such people should make such claims...
my grandfather has dementia...
suffers from what dementia:
slavery unto long term memory...
but he can solve a crossword puzzle
like a 21 year old...
      i watch him, and listen to him,
lazing about on the balcony,
in a communist flat...
overlooking a graveyard...
that horror of western suburbia:
that? to be honest? isn't all that bad...
and i ensure myself with the role:
don't worry, you're here...
i'm here... we're here...
   i have to admit, his dementia
begot a hypochondria...
            the topic of ailment is his special
concern...
     i admit i prefer listening
to his childhood reminiscence of
the ᛋᛋ men in crow uniforms stationed
in my hometown...
              but thank **** it's not Alzheimer's...
always, like a dog, like a dog impromptu,
every, single, time i visit him...
if he had a tail?
  it would be waggling...
i'm also pleased to see him...
sometimes we watch t.v. together...
but mostly? i gorge on his personal library,
and sometimes admire his stamp-collection,
and walk the graveyard with him,
remembering:
lay me in the grave beside my grandfather,
also name Joseph...
        it's harsh to say this...
but i think i'll pull my hair out when
he dies...
   i used to cry like a baby over dead pets...
but when he's gone...
   i'll pull my hair out,
curse my shadow...
  shadow-stab my heart,
and then gnash my teeth so i chip off a piece
from one,
and then stalk the freshly dug grave,
and insert that chipped tooth-piece
into the soil...
      subsequently performing
a mantra for the moon, that scythe,
    that echo of the earth i am to stand on,
at that particular moment in time.
- i already said that psychosis is
underrated as both a quasi-hallucinogen
and a medical condition...
a typical LSD trip? 12 hours...
but a psychosis "trip"?
    2 years... relapse... 2 more years...
i came out of my psychotic trance
in my mid twenties...
              years: not hours...
so do i believe in god?
  impersonal, sure...
        which is a sort of antithesis of
the monotheistic personal god...
       do humans possess a soul?
   i own a body, i own a thought...
a psyche?
        people who have never experienced
psychosis have no
"inconvenient" conceptualization
of the prime basis of psychosis,
i.e. a soul, i.e. **** ex machina...
man, out of the machinery,
he, himself, created, and enslaved himself
with, and in.

i love how Bukowski wrote
the perfect attache to this, "poem":

some people never go mad,
what horrible lives
they must live
;

    well... "live" (in frank honesty
with no adherence to rank) -
          all these people do,
is endure the inconsequential
preemptive, is...

    while on the occasion
rummaging in the pointlessness of
the lesser nostalgia
of fathoming historical faults -
those ill begotten memories
within the confines of a hive,
or something akin,
more or less.
pineliquor Aug 2020
we left our crosswords unfinished
new stitches on patchwork quilt skins
it is on dead earth we stand before
any buttons are pressed

out of sight then out of
conceptualization, the rite of
forgetting, a slow, annual, funeral
they disappear in the dark corners

no one would, remember, not unless
we seal pain under our wounds
like what amber does to time
i'm slowly running out of steam, i'm the minuscule picture of greater things

Apr 20, 2020
Tyler Feb 2022
dialectical analytic
'******-conceptualization'.
veering vectors veining
through tangled truths
only to find- still- something
of nothing new.
Emmy Nov 2019
I behold what I have created,
immaculate but yet not true,
like a celestial conceptualization created by the chiseling edges of my fended anima.
Your image does not belong to you, but is simply carried by the many. As a shadow among the faded, I seize what you bestow so easily and wide-eyed. While my spirit paints and composes, the defenses that once fended the atelier become dismantled. My creation is no longer of nature, and so the spectral replica consumes my pertinent, frail obscurity, turning it as dim as the ghost enclosing the uncharted space.

— The End —