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Tucker Freeman Oct 2012
I hate poetry.
I think it's a waste of time.
Trying to think of ways to say things.
And then to make them rhyme!
Some poems are dark and artsy.
Some poems make you laugh.
Some poems make you think or cry.
And some poems are plain ol' crap.
Some poets wear thin mustaches.
Some poets wear fancy hats.
Some poets make up their own words.
Some gilberty hilberty crat.
But I'll tell you this my friend.
That there's nothing in the world more truer.
I'd rather pick up a pen and write.
Than pick up a shovel and move manure.
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2016
or how to make the eclectic concentrated,
how to make a zemstwa potion (revenge
potion) - long are the days of educated
Germans citing Grecian words -
my bilingualism gives me a patriotism
to use a language foreign to me,
and still embrace importing Church Slavonic:
                 but what a simple word
zemstwa is: less revenge and more retribution.

karakan: a ****** / dwarf -
but in an inoffensive sentence.
    people in the anglo realm always say
the phrases: where're are you from, originally?
and... how do you say it, properly?
        you first employ a knowledge of
syllable butchery: prophets of the surgical
procedure -
                 macron and umlaut both
akin in arithmetics -
                                  for what's later a comma.
Sartre plagiarised Joyce with *iron in the soul
,
     left out all forms of punctuation,
akin to the English language leaving out all
forms of syllable punctuation in reverse -
      which goes against Socrates doing the
Kabbalistic methodology of sounds as atoms,
cut up?      so-  -crat- -es.
                                 Dr. Satan said: it's so.
        i already said that language is the most volatile
substance known to man...
             and that the only people who get to write
books in the west: are people who are asked to write
books in the first place.
      there's me, in a darkened corner:
a coroner's phrase -
                i would be a true idle drunk had i no
tenacity to write and drink...
   by now i'm halfway through a bottle of *** -
Bacardi - or Bacardí - acute iota to get a stress /
prolonging into an ee         - because
you rarely hear someone say Afrikaan: or
   Afrikān - they taught you punctuation of words /
compounds - but they didn't teach you
how diacritical marks are also incisors
    stating that there are two hydrogen atoms and
an oxygen bound to in a reaction with potassium -
or such guises lost or forgotten.
                    it's aesthetic in the informal sense,
in the formal sense: power.
                 no one wants a flower-power hippy cuddle
moment these days, it's true:
                   they want fierce knowing -
people want glasses -
                to possess the Galilean power struggle
stated with cyclops Jupiter being noticed
and saintly Saturn -
                      a different spirit rummages through me
and hence the differential vibration of
the hushed lynx: named Larry.
                     in flames: metaphor -
well, you know, you begin the night with
a change of tone: former barley murky gods' ****
                    amber - to Caribbean clarity -
you're bound to find a difference in shaky "the shadow"
stevens of your hands - i'm way past
the absinthe romanticism - sugar cubes alight
are like latex gimp masks: you start yearning for
the countryside hiatus of forever:
    David Attenborough-esque narrated *** scenes,
birds and the bees, and storks.
                       as sure as Moonday in a
monocle i say: the world events shouldn't drag you
into their narrative - avoid them - avoid them at all
costs: you're not a power broker in their final
summit - you can't change them, turn your attention
elsewhere, into niche topography of interest:
with a very minor demographic of shared coagulation
to express it... back when fame was less of a harrowing:
back when there was no personality cult activation:
a banker said to me once, randomly on a walk:
Newton, what a load of *******!
        and hence the ballistic missiles and that thing
about global warming: for every action there's an
equal and opposite reaction (3rd law) -
     Descartes thought would be part of the
conspiracy theorist columnal dogma reiteration -
doubt is wrong (albeit good faith)
         and negation is right (albeit bad faith,
as Sartre already said) -
     so in turn the tongue: the doubters turn the tongue
into the four limbs with boxing gloves included -
  waggle all you want, the pessimism is already
there - the deniers? they had clothes for their tongue
to make the most spectacular claims about
being naked, when actually dressed at Harrods
in that cheap **** that says: all pharaoh cool, cool.
i'll find more pearls in the reflection of the moon
upon an ocean than i'll ever see donned by pearl
necklace ladies at a fashion week goose-step stomping
anorexics show in London - and that's the truth.
     i'm not a biblical literalist - but **** me!
we were given a poisoned fruit, and told we would
be able to tell apart good & evil, but never from
the two divergent stances, hence the bundled up salad
of like for like -
                     this is Moses as poet, rather than
a general - before telling me he didn't exist
and was mere fiction: tell me he was a cunning poet
before being a cunnin general -
                  in a hundred years' time: you too will
be a myth, that's logically applied history after
being ignored for too long it cannot attract
september the 1st, 1939 - because mythology is
a form of history that detests exactness of dating
and hindsight - it happened: people didn't
really give a **** when it did, done!
     we really do not have a capacity to censor
*******...  not in life, on the street, on t.v., or in a courtroom,
           we don't!
                                   i treat it as a puzzle
rather than a fruit though, otherwise, to be stark-naked
honest: we'd be ****** gorilla boring and that would
be the end of our self-projection as questioning
the void we're in: it would have been blindly
nodded to - and ours': such a pivotal and yet also
pathetic rebellion -
                                 yet again, the world is going
into the shredder - looks elsewhere:
i'm looking at a poem by jack spicer -
he's not a great poet, meaning? he has a decency to
be one... which means he's not oratory
therefore he's implosive, therefore he's part of
the magnetic-enzyme strand of writing:
he attracts people to write -
                    he's not a Bukowski or a Ginsberg -
god no...
                  the seemingly mediocre is there
because of the paparazzi sentiment toe-ward
the greats (on purpose) -
                    you end up feeling:
i need to say something - instead of feeling:
a heckler! shut, the, ****, up!
      that's being perceived as mediocre goes:
it's a fatality of what not to adopt and improve;
like that line about the doubter's tongue being
dressed in fists and knees -
   and the denier's tongue being dressed in Gucci
and Dolce to look the part and
         hardly spread a cup of sweated over panic.
      pro-me-thee-us
      pro-me-thee-us
      five years
      the song singing from its black throat (Jack)
  sure... but it's pro-me-fee-oose - right?
this goes back to not having "punctuation"
flint sharpenings on atoms of lingua -
                 sure, have them between compounds,
but never ascribe them to letters?
  bound to be trouble....
             d'eh very point of fought over is to be
count, unawares: thinking.
then i picked up a very ancient text,
ibn sina / abū alī al-husayn ibn sīnā:
variation, properly?
i'd put a macron over y in al-husaȳn -
     otherwise it's almost like a question of
practising punctuation: which is a variation of
constructing from syllables, rather than
alphabetical beginnings - now let's look
at the variation "how do you pronounce it?"
         e-bin   c-n'ah       ah-boo       a'h-lee
              who-sane         e-bin         see-n'ah

this is how English looks like when undressed
from its lack of applying diacritical marks -
god it's ugly,
               get that Texan gunslinger drawl with
it too: like i'll ever be a cowboy: pff!
yes, there are people out there who enjoy
t.v. shows and look at them fish-eyed glassy -
then there are those that like football games -
but then the few of us look at something like the
following as means for transcendental mind-games
above crosswording:
(Kantian 0 = negation,                1 must therefore
                    mean affirmation, and 2 doubt:
as in: being of two minds)
   ibn Sana (tome of wisdom) -

            R  H
A  0  0  0  0  0  0  B
C  0  0  0  0  0  0  D­
            T  G
                                     this diagram is so idiosyncratic
it would well be a diaphragm -
                                   it's a scematic:
but it's certainly not a need to make language
trivia, in a sense trivial:
             it is a metaphysical translation of a pearl -
the same triviality can be applied to it
as our bewilderment ascribed toward the
analogous translation of it via avaricious people
and precious gems -
             it's not even a Xeno's paradox type of
looky-looky -
                 it's a sort of complete human being type
of scenario: an X marks the spot where you
     grow dumb with: does it matter?
      well: logic that's not restrained (on holiday)
produces such things -
                 such schematics:
   they are artefacts of a way to forget the daily
function of language between people:
as way to suggest: there is a way to get things done
by not getting them done.
                   i could have replaced the original
with a higher tier abstract, namely using less meaningful
encoding symbols, given that 0 - 9 are incompetent
of the 26 variabilities, and the why & i
            yumper and jumper,
   cat and kilogram                    cue, q, kappa -
skewers -     which makes it less than 26,
or the said: ∞      and a - z variation limit from
aardvark                    and   zyzzogeton -
zoo... in between.
                            i don't know what ibn is
trivialising / doing an original antidote to a crossword,
but i can say, given that i found the punctuation
scalpel in non-applied punctuation within letters
in the End-leash language - what i found stark
naked: by the way - the reason that philosophers
never applied grammatically categorising words
in their systems, is why we have that sort of
momentum of applicability in the field of robotics:
to categorise words by their noun or verb
is a reason why philosophy books never applied
such words in their reasoning - therefore the need
to write a book with such words being relevant
as translated into their precise irrelevance
and the relevance of the field of robotics.
never mind, i could have written
          
                     <  ≥
£           .   .   .   .   .   .  ≠ (÷)
= (x)     .   .   .   .   .   .  $
                     ≤  >                        thus the denial
of all plausible conversation on the matter:
and Herr Grinch and the rags to riches
fairytale - and the lottery, and the otherwise
grim simga of the yawning grey plateau;
did i get something wrong?
                 this is an example of an alter-crossword,
and the reason that mathematicians aren't
good at mental arithmetic is because
they have to learn mathematical shorthand
for their arguments, they become kindred spirits
of courtroom stenographers.
Jordan Kit Oct 2010
Where are
The ecstatic saxophones that
Slung forth swank slurs of
Beauty,
The ***, ***, ***
Bass lines,
The snaps and snares and the
Sweet rhythm of the Night?

Music had character
And minds followed, in following
Soared.
There were no glittery vampires,
No prepubescent
Brother boy bands.
Soulful crooners never
Warbled over Alejandro,
Or the boots with the fur, with the fur.
We wrote letters and shared thoughts and ideas
And convictions.
There was no need for the techno
Middleman
To wrap our
Real thoughts in LOLs
To make opening
Up to another
More efficient.
Mass media
Gluttony drowns
America till I strain and struggle
Only to barely stay afloat
In this sea of apathy.

But you won't buy and sell my soul.
I'm not going to
Be your
Consumptive,
Quiet,
Couldn't-care-less,
I won't get in the way,
And I won't raise my voice,
Good American,
2.5 children,
Christian,
Conserva-libera-publi-crat,
Self-centered, Illiterate, Ignorant
Sheep
Only to follow the power.

**** no,
I'm mad as hell;
I want to leave the next generation
A world where
You can confess your
Love and be a man or
Love another man and have
Basic human rights, and it all
Starts in your
Mind
And your
Expression thereof.
It's the saccharine pop
Culture that has
Made free-thought unfashionable, a crime.

Art is
Revolution.
Hang
Up,
Log
Out,
Unplug and just look
At what you've let the
World become in
Letting yourself be
Little more than
A faceless source
Of merciless dollars.
Wrest free our
Culture from the
Calamitous and indifferent
Claws of rampant capitalism.

Express yourself or submit,
Stand up for a free America.

I will not be sold.
I finished writing this on October 23 at 4:12 AM, scrawled in dry erase marker on my dorm room window.
Lawrence Hall Apr 2019
Upon Reading a Patronizing Review of Ferlinghetti’s Delightful and Revelatory Entertainment, Little Boy



The only problem with the Proletariat
Is obeying the pretentious ***** that
Insist on calling us the Proletariat -

Resist their Insist!

For I will not be labeled by some artsy-crat
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is:
Reactionarydrivel.blogspot.com.
It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.

Lawrence Hall’s vanity publications are available on amazon.com as Kindle and on bits of dead tree:  The Road to Magdalena, Paleo-Hippies at Work and Play, Lady with a Dead Turtle, Don’t Forget Your Shoes and Grapes, Coffee and a Dead Alligator to Go, and Dispatches from the Colonial Office.
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2019
ever find yourself,
perched on a windowsill...
amid the spectacle
of the night,
having forgot to play
video games,
   waiting for the mating
calls of foxes,
the moon being
in full-bloom...
and how,
having cast your
eyes on, otherwise,
unfathomable
  objects,
of disgraced telepathy...
come the blooming
illumination
of, objects, at night,
screaming: quicksilver
from the depth of an
unseen demanded
vibration!
             it's almost like reciting
a litany of Milton,
with Moloch,
the egregious fallen angel:
another semite god,
befallen to succumb
to the spell...
the caravan
of the tetragrammaton
not taken-in...
                you really want
me thinking to purpotrate
the vector?!
        curb my tongue....
    i implore you!
                you made an innocent
act of *******,
into a riddled
    receiving end of
being "forced"
to give birth to...
                  how about... no...
you are no voice
of a -crat...
   now überlegenmutter...

jude mit die hauseland...
the jew...
has finally become
replaced
to fathom a home...
a land...
                    i will just...
leave the jew play
the yiddish ****
among the arabs...

                 out of europe,
beside kazakhstan,
australia,
and israel,
in the eurovision
song-contest...
   you just leave
the jews performing
the solid part among
the arabs...
       me?
                  just make sure
the jews remain
      out of europe...
what... calling poles
both nazis and...
whatever is left to call them?

happy holidays to tel aviv
via the florida
bunker core...

   do i?
do i?
              no... not really!
like the british:
i just don't like being
made dictum people...

    no... you're right...
i never felt inclined
to feel anything of
Lawrence of Arabia...
to feel... associated
with the camel jockeys...
i guess, i forgot...
       oasis hallucinations
came between us...
   rich people of Mecca...
something i wished
Shakespeare would have
lasped up,
countering the merchant
of Venice...
with a merchant of Mecca...

i tend to forget the camel jockeys...
should i, or shouldn't i?
jihad and the Iberian
reconquista...
but... a jihad only happens...
when you have previously
owned the land?
no?
               no...

       so... the land you're trying
to claim... was never owned by you...
was it?
        **** me... the stigma...
surrounding the Germans...
but not a revision of the treaty
of Versailles...
or pope Urban XIII's announcement...

  how the French get away from
any guilt,
because of their pastry...
  and kissing technique...

     **** a French girl:
be a ******... Napoleon:
short man, bad!
                 moustache man good?
you can't win!
forget winning!

i like seeing the origins
in hebrew with no
european past...
  which basically makes
all germans polacks
and all polacks germans...

hell... if you want to play
that sort of game...
             sieg heil!
                          etwas heil!

happy, now?
no, i'm not here for a safety-net
of anglo-saxon risqué
humor...
    the kind that requires
canned-laughter...
           for a t.v. show...

i seem to have forgotten
to laugh...
when comedy...
became...
too... explanatory...
too... excuse-worthy;
basically, too... english.

so... it's still funny...
when it has become
1970s stale...
                no-man's land
"refreshing"?
    it's funny...
   it's funny because it's
obvious...
or because i have
              to explain it?

the latter format?
that's not funny...
          that's just the basic
for a bankrupt language;

if i were a narrator
at the nadir
of the Polish-Lithuanian
commonwealth...
i'd be one and the same
with...
   i still remember
the dying embers
of the British Empire...
when Hong Kong was
given back to the Chinese
by Tony Blair;
how similar...
               i would be among
those who would cite
the same sources of
decadence
being exacted upon
the to and to tow a
lost amass of the heaving
earth toll.
Fingers of left hand cried freedom,
detached themselves and declared
mutiny gesticulating thumb thing
awful, than furiously haughtily
prancing, skittering, zipping,...
as self important independent digits

indiscriminately deleting one after
another email, mine eyes gleaned
subject pertaining to boldface all
CAPITALIZED notification urging,
indicating, beckoning... immediate
reply regarding... yours truly... huh

me (Matthew Scott Harris) arbitrarily
designated lucky random winner of
... some large dollar figure sporting
countless zeros left of decimal point,
I wept inconsolably intuitively aware
foregone irretrievable message haint

spam, but authentic bonafide one in
bajillion monetary sweepstakes drawing
impossible mission to recall subliminal
communique, and resorted to hypnosis
to jog mine memory and access lost data
which hoop fully convincingly explains

temporary absence, yea... understandable
skepticism induces furrowed brow, but
honest to dog Ott's well known selling
exotic plants also provide Asian mystical,
herbal, and celestial therapy, yet if unable
to successfully tweezer out valuable key

information locked within subconscious,
courtesy specially trained experts tending
rooted prized nuggets likening jewel heist
forager determined to plunder loot, the
mind will feel comfortably numb, which
allows, enables, and provides cathartic,

holistic, opportunistic... modus operandi
to accept permanently zapped chance of
lifetime to experience wealth (****! gone
within a flash) instant karma at the least
managed to evoke fickle, nimble, and
worthwhile poet to build splendiferous
castles in the air.
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2017
i already said that i made a mistake:
      hijab            and niqab...
         but hence the q.
                  a question, not a queue
standing outside the kew gardens...
   but this enforced diacritical markings
over j-ay             hey!
                               or iota (ι) -
                                      it's enforced...
why not a candle í of the acute iota?
                      he-dziab = hijab
you don't say hi / high all of a sudden,
followed-up with jab...
                                      the diacritical
**** of iota, can morph into an "umlaut"
whereby i can morph into a "digraph",
i.e.            hi- = ee...
           or simply ē (which is what prolongs
the stress on the letter).
                what could i ever conclude with
having written the following?
    well... the first philosophy book i ever
bought... in camden town,
                  plato's θηæτητυς
  and i do treat eta (η), as if it were epsilon (ε)
with an acute diacritical mark hovering
over it.
             anyway... it only took
                   over two-thousand years of history
to deal with...
          so there's plato's theaetetus: "strange"
how siamese consonants are named digraphs,
while siamese vowels are named graphemes...
   there are more digraphs than graphemes,
  since there are only two graphemes: æ & œ,
            no other variants, i.e., well that's one
to claim, although segregated by . .      and
those are two unique words.
              yet in the theaetetus dialogue,
     socrates is talking about     ******>       so-         (+)            -crat-      (+)     -es,
a syllable broken down into letters (units) -
       but this is the 21st century,
                  and what minor detail occurred in
the 20th century?
                      something similar, i suppose...
the same concerning bringing it down to just
two letters...
                     heidegger's ponderings (iv, 221):
why do i two g's in my name?
                   at first i'd suggest he asks the question
as a case of vanity, but i suspect there's
a question concerning aesthetics of spelling...
   at least in english that's the case,
     the germans write like chemists,
          they compound excessively,
       and they don't hyphenate their words like
their english cousins...
                so he goes on to state why his nickname
is gg (jee-jee)
             g1. güte (benevolence, not pity)
    g2. geduld (patience, supreme will)...
       sure, but why not géduld?
       ah... because that would be frown-ser
(french) - and that would hardly be patience,
       it would be a 35 hour working week...
                       other nations frown and say:
you're ******* lazy!
                     and the french reply: qui-z la
           pita-mont (πíta-mąnt)    /   (we're patient).
wordvango Dec 2017
I've been silent so far about some **** in my own house.
In Alabama, we got a special election on Dec 12th.
Special it is.
We have the choice between an accused child molester
who has been removed twice from previous offices like Supreme Court Justice for refusing to uphold a legal declaration from a superior court.  Tend we do here I see a trend to not fall for anyone telling us what to do.
Might have something to do with losing some war a while ago.
I am not sure.
Moore is a professed evangelical who wears a cowboy hat
slings a gun around at fundraisers. Shoot them ***** ***** Dem'crats!  He shouts!
Our only choice here in the drother is some droll dude who never did speak up for Alabama and Genral Lee or the white hood?
How could this be?
God suffer a dem'crat get 'lected!!!  ****** man.
We alls got princepals and I cant stand fer no ones to tell me how to vote, which thingy I gotta pull, once in that there booth?
To vote fer this upstanding great Moore man whos seems
to be reserrectin' the great south ?

Man I gonna support him no matter what.

I don't care 'bout my young girls or blacks or none that ****!
Don't tell me how to be!
Kelly McManus Jun 2019
Sorry kids can't,
jive with no can, crat, or ism
just human wisdom.

                               Kelly McManus
concept albums: Lao Che and Gospel:
it's not exactly the English variation of concept
albums akin to Prog Rock...
this is sort of Prog Rock fusion with ska
and punk...                 it's rather refreshing:
like this beer i'm currently drinking...
after waking up at 9:30am sharp
having come home from a shift at 1am...
Pan Diesel... i hate this song...
i started writing when it came on...

cleaned the house... or as my mother says:
the streets and the plazas...
not the cobwebs and the crannies...
leaving the dust to accumulate:
a typical bibliophile mentality
of being phobic about cleaning books
like one might clean furniture...
but i sort of overcame it saying goodbye
to grandpa Joe
by cleaning his room
while Martin, his son:
spent 2 years or at least 1 drinking himself
to madness and eventually
madness that couldn't find an outlet
in art as the one: who creates...
he just sat in the kitchen and drank and ate
sausages, those dried out
FAGAS of a pepperoni...
didn't clean the father's room
the father dragged him down the father
dragged him down
should he know to have spoken
with Matthew...
about the roaming stars:
should you, Matthew, have Eve's:
your mother's temperament...
you would conquer the world:
dear Joe:
i am conquering the world...
dear Joe:
i am conquering the world...

   my totem of the fox came to meet me
at the CRAT...
the crayton: the craytor...
the Coliseum of Wembley...
it's all on c.c.t.v. with Huginn and Muninn...
the magpie of the trinity
the cctv...
                   me and LambeRto were talking
about Venice and Rome...
he comes from Rome LambeRto from Rome:
Venice is unique... a revision of Atlantis...
the mythological origins of the ancients
even the Romans thought themselves
as those ejected from Anatolia
as the Trojans...
Trojans... Romans were Trojans...
the English think themselves Greeks but are
known to only speak of Saxony...
so... no great agenda just a spirit of change
and the empire...
now trodden and dismantled...

                       the spirit of perversity and freedom
i still grapple with
the terminology of politics
distinction between ****** assault
and ****** harassment...
and the rainbow and the rainbow and the rain
and the light...
and only having one eye...
yet with imagination not given to the crows...
i have an imaginary hotel
in my empty socket...
and too much skin folding like bedsheets:
i need to change my bedsheets: i think
there is the crow of thought
and there is the crow of memory
there's the magpie of cctv
and there's worm of imagination
where once my eye was:
and i align myself with YHWH
against all?! ah: allah-blah
blah blah blahlah... allahblahblahallahblahallah...

one of jałej

JAŁEJ
                 JŁJ                                     na jabeŁ
mojego Oskara Darszana...

             muzyka w końcu boli:

oh at work oh at work oh at work i have so much
transcendence
the fox the german blabbering and crying
after being ejected
and me wanting to speak German
but instead prompting his bilingualism to come out
with:

                      WAS?! and i said it so subtly,
and so emotionally calming...
what?!                  alles gut?
i.e. what's wrong?

                       Judaic accents in Lao Che: the clarinet
and the roof and no violin
no fiddler for the oncoming Holocaust:
an Anti Jihad an Anti Crusade...

as far as i was concerned there's no slumber in hunger
and just alternative thinking
no headache just a head and a heart
which is probably enough to cause a headache
confining this brain this fruit
and these eyes and these ears
and how resonance blisters
                              a horizon of vibration...
not of light: what one hears rather than seas:
how everything is bound by sound
and speaks...
the fly buzzing a Morse depeche
squiggly line
then a silent voice in my head
says: it will not make do with avoiding:
writing this...
and i know you think the sun is shining
and you need your vitamin D
and the exercise and the air
not this stalemate of writing:
last night's battle... metaphors a bitten into
sausage
on a cup mat on the table...
and a broken fridge magnet:
a mexican hat... in pieces...
but i didn't overturn the cat's bowl...
that's why i cleaned the house...
i overturned a cat's bowl full of food
and i thought about
the crow of memory
and the crow of thought
and the magpie of the cctv
and then...
the worm... living in the socket
of my plucked out eye...
the apple i ate before
thinking about woman
and telepathically she acknowledged
and ate of the fruit
as i kept the worm...
living now in my L.....        R...
if i'm right handed:
which would be the eye to better coordinate with?
would i need to see my right
arm with my right eye
or would it be better to... not see through my left eye?

oculus per oculus...
nowhere is it cited except in the Quran that
the god of the Israelites is a plagiarism
of Odin...
               Allah is not one-eyed...
then... of the old pantheons... Greeks are their own
unique(s)...
i just want to listen to some Taylor Swift
but this Lao Che concept album Gospel is still playing
and like someone dedicated
i want to finish listening to this album in one go
ensoo...
                rather than changing music: take a break!
take a break!
eureka! AI: an advert comes on: even though
i downloaded BRAVEapp and it was a way to bypass
subscribing to youtube to be advert free...
but there's something special about harmonizing with AI
a frequency assertiveness...
there's still so much to unpack from yesterday...

or maybe i'm just bothered that i have
Edie and Alexander in my life:
the lover and the artist...
both entwined: talking with Samina
at work like a priest:
how i learned she lost her virginity to a black
guy and how the guy's father punched
him out for fear of Samina being an honor killing
since Pakistani men have this deep
recess of perfection: without reflection
but only the reflexive of memory
of having the surname Khan...
so the Mongols are still so close
maybe Pakistani men fear this the most
and are so insecure because of the surname Khan
after all:
the Mongols only tickled me
my people...
listen to the hejnał maricki...
St. Mary's Trumpet call of Cracow...
i have my own St Patrick of Greater London:
sorry... Poland
and i'm the Lesser Poland: the paupers and the kings
from other nations
seeking Poland as the womb of sanctuary...
i sometimes thought she was a *****
but she was Latin
in being surrogate to kings
an escape plan...
and so came the envy of Germany for not fighting
the Mongols
and the Russians who said:
you didn't fight them enough!
so the Pakistani men circumcised
with surnames like Khan being descended of that
man...

but unlike the Italian tactic of finding happiness
in life eating for three hours
talking and eating...
high noon... maybe not so much a siesta...
our northern burdens
will not be illuminated with only the other
will to power:
the will to strife... the will to struggle:
said ******...
power is secondary:
just like fame is secondary
for what is deserved from each and every talent.

alternative title:
alternative title:
the lost "art": of listening to albums (Lao Che - Gospel)

but now i'm thinking about that German lad
who was ejected:
crying about a friend:
and then allow me to comfort him...
maybe i helped maybe i didn't:
did i console him?
i must have...
saying that single word: WAS
to break him into English...

i don't even know whether he actually could speak
English:
maybe that ought to be a phenomenon
since the totem also came
and laughed...
laughed with mouth agape
because foxes are like hyenas
and like dog whistles
their laughter is silent...
but if you watch close enough
you can see a fox laughing...

                i don't think the German spoke
any English
          but broke into it connecting the dots
like i would get a drink
in Kiev
and break into Ukrainian...

yes: the will to strife: power comes much much
later and be not cared for:
love...
simply discarded... with suicide.

ah... us Roman Catholics...
the Irish, the French, the Italians, the Polish...
new brothers outside the realm
of ethnic romanticism concerning
the Czechs the Polacks and the Russians:
somewhere the Swedish overlords...

concept no 2:
getting lost in a song rather than an entire
album:
albums are painful
songs and on repeat: cardigan, taylor swift:
concentration model:
concentration is not consciousness?
certainly not thinking certainly not memory
certainly not imagination:
concentration is my Islamic variation
of asking the question of what consciousness is:
that has been partially answered with AI
if not entirely:
but now i want to ask the question of:
what is concentration?
what is this mental capacity:
this Moth of Prometheus?

let me introduce diacritical distinctions into
English
to alleviate this dyslexia:

as i ask...
aß ǐ ask...             (what's the pixels, closely)

                  although thought: the point
                  al-
                  allthought
        ­                                  poȷnt                         GHGH
GH complex:                          surd GH complex
summon of eyes seeing and ears not hearing...

              allðou(ght)                  GHT is going to be
problematic: it's a higher testimony...
ðe poȷnt      was the easy part...

(       ǐ          aye, yes?              some remnant
of the evolving tongue, yes?          aye?    Pidgin)

5 sec adverts:
what the **** is a love honey toy?
what's a love honey toy?
am i a love honey toy?
                           am i a cruel summer am i a love honey
toy? **** me bombardment...
electric shock tingle after tingle:
might need to raise my spirits
and ease off the beer and head into Amsterdam
and have a coffee with a hangover
i can control from having smoked marijuana
about: ooh: i don't know...
    2 hours? can't remember when this poem
started: and i can't remember or foretell when i'll finish it
this beautiful blank slate collage...

haha: i'm a donkey in ****-
  jokes egg yolks: GANDU *** FAGAS.

Martin's new favorite band: Silverchair and that
just that debut alone...
come to think: Samina on ketamine,
LSD then falling asleep while eating an egg...
dissonance:
maybe those were the tears of the Weimar
republic: now i remember...

ever since that ****** harassment case at work
i've been receiving more attention:
positive vibe energy from women...

COFFEE not *******...
for a Bank Holiday
it has been a busy day:
and i drank 4 beers smoked a joint
now i'm drinking coffee
thinking it would be necessary
to iron those work trousers
come 7pm after i finally decide to eat something
rather than thinking about
the self-cannibalism of not eating...
fasting: how the proteins behave the fats
and the fuel: as long as i have sugar in my body
and not think that alcohol is sugar...
you can't substitute the evolution of sugar
into alcohol because you need
actual sugar...
can't say that alcohol and meat is the perfect diet
sugars enlarge the room for the brain
to orientate itself in and with...
Martin: your brain became a shrimp and a prune:
cuddles from the fetus...
i will not be rude i'm just trying to find
a self-explanatory metaphor...

otherwise the Jews were like the intellectuals
who left:
while the Palestinian and Philistines remain
because how did the mystery of the Jews March
to Poland is not well documented...
why is the Second Exodus not documented
at all oh just lost in the Holocaust?
must be...

der zweite aus'                         'zung...
Tza Tongue in -oong-
                              Tzi Tza Sow...

                  or simply C: elsewhere... the land
formerly known as the Jerusalem of the North...
i'm guessing Danzig....
               i might be wrong: i might be implying:
Łódź......
and a camel cigarette rather than a roll-up...
   the reminder that i smoked marijuana is disgusting...
i want to escape to Kauai and give everything
up and only love myself up...
insomnia and the riddle of a child
among the seashells and the rain sounds falling
upon the Pacific...

as explained to Samina:
i don't stutter like i used to i don't stutter
into a trauma of speaking up
speaking to others: it's not Touret's Tauret's tarot
******* is a conjunction
a punctuation marker for any sort of sophistry
i make oaths i make the oath
i'm scribbling this down right now...
or maybe because she's the same age
as my...
and maybe i can just talk to older women
and maybe the younger women just see
me and are scared to talk to me:
but Reyla isn't scared clearly because there's
this deeper ****** connection we
share and just baking her 13th birthday cake
and talking to you and your mother
and seeing so much harmony
and i know you didn't see it
but how i did and how it made me happy
that finally your mother found you at peace
and so deeply meaning to have to move
closer to your sister -
but i'm also saying goodbye
and if haven't been with each since
what's more since now of the then
that will become of today.

- - - - - - - - - - -
- - -  -   -  - -  - -
- -         -         -
           U)

many eyes: one smile...
contemplating the banality of the Third Exdous:
that never was
of the Jews to America
when clearly the plan was all along to resurrect
Israel
and not merely Judea in America
but that is Israel to me:
and there was no en masse exodus to America
since so many remained in Poland
to simply die...
skim reading the culture magazine,
the sunday times, august 25, 2024...

- i firmly believe the worlds tilts towards beauty
         nick cave on life after death
- i was going to call my album Joy
- robert harris's latest novel delves into
the passion between the prime minister
Herbert Asquith and a socialite 35 years
his junior; as war was breaking out
across Europe            (n.b. so can be bothered
using the semi-colon, but not able to known
that an s' apostrophe indicates no need to
's i.e. to introduce the possessive article)
- now i write music for the king
   (black woman piece, just read the headline
saw a picture and farted at the king,
if monarchy could be established in Poland
again: Harry Windsor would be king)
- how do you preserve a masterpiece,
in the face of age and even protesters?
Laura Freeman has a rare glimpse into
the art of restoration
skimmed past a few pages...
- Sven - a game of two halves
- why thatching is back
- when America flirted with fascism:
in the 1930s a motley gang of populists and
propagandists trolls threatened democracy.
a liberal journalist warns about the parallels with today

well: so much for a sobering reader's digest...
just enough coffee with feel hungry again:
like a hunger authentic not some rage inducing hunger
authentic hunger to want to cook something
from scratch...
plenty of fresh tomatoes:
i feel like making a garlic and bacon pasta bake
with fresh tomatoes on top
and some shaved cheese and Italian herb concoction
of rosemary, thyme, oregano, basil,
did i forget something? hmm... i don't remember:
maybe that's why i forget:
to forget is to let go
to remember is to hurt.
i think i love you like
i want to forget you, Edie:
i think i love you like i want to forget you.
.                      MAGAM
                      Palindrome
   Make America Great Again Musk.

   Trump has handed Elon a pack of
    cards which he is about to shuffle
          and then remove the jokers.

     This is going to known as the big
    deal, all hands deck, trUSt all men
   and there’s going to be no dog ears.

  Can Axe The is the name of the game
  royal flush to drain the swamp of the
           dreaded Demon Crat Rats.

  Now that the lady liberties have been
  pushed aside blindfolded and gagged
ban abortion women are Fœtus Factories.

      White houses are for virgins only
        not for homeless or hymenless
      unless those with brush and  pan.
  
Penalize the Irish for voting against you
     remove all the Tech companies and
        repatriate them back to the USA.

   Tell the Stefan Bandero Ukraine Nazis
   and the Israeli Jew Zionist Nazis to go
     and **** themselves, free Palestine.

     One last thing Donny T, would it be
    possible to create a posthumous Elvis
   song from words in his vast repertoire?

— The End —