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Harrison W Jun 2013
There he is!
The man in the suit and tie!
Grab him!  Tackle him!
Strip him of all his clothes!
He's indignant!  Look at his face!
Humiliated!
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!
****** pound him!
Pound his ****** face in the dirt!
Slam it!  Slam his head!
Against the pavement!
SLAM IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Claw his back!
Scrape every lair of skin off him!
Nails aren't enough!
Give me the knife!
OOOOOOOO look at the little man cwy!
CWY LITTLE MAN CWY!!!!
There are more of us than there are of you!
And that's why you mean nothing!
Skin him!  Skin him! Skin him!
**** it hurry and skin the ******!
So we can move on!
**** him!  **** him! **** him!
Shove it up his ***!
Look at him cry!
Pathetic!!!!
Worthless!!!!
Is he begging?!!!
Beg more *****!
I want you to beg!
Beg for death!
Beg for it *****!
BEG FOR IT!!!!!!!!
Hahahahah you convince me!
Bash his head in!
*******!!!!
Look at his brains split open!
It's all over the pavement!
We won my friends!
Today was a victory for the masses!
Now we can go home victorious!
Raise our ****** fists to the sky!
Today was a proud day for us all!
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2017
i'm moving the "holy" roman empire a tad bit east...
     i mean... you'won't recognise it being an empiere at first...
not like you'd historically imagine
the austro-hungarians...
            but the austrians were
***** about the siege of Vienna with yan sobieski...
      the hussars v. the janissaries,
year: 1683...
              a message to muslims:
well... if you really want to cherish a piece
of history... how about this one?
no? no good? ooh pooh bear...
yo makin' me cwy!
       cymru! hu! ha! cymru! hu! ha!
  feel free to protest when the right parties
antagonise and the liberal media doesn't protest...
i'll be like the icelandic football supporters:
hu! ha! hu! ha! ***** please... smoke you
hookah.
   i call it close proximity, symbols that disorientate
people, a bit like c k q...
   so too ᛋ (es)            and ᛇ (ee)...
****! first you tell us to snore, imitating wide-awake
sleep... now you're telling us: go fight them!
   am i sensing senile ******* giving out instructions?
or am... just... hallucinating?
              it's like this war where you're thinking:
these women?     do i really really have to?
    me me me... me me me... meme...
                 gene? no! meme!
                                  oh right... so and so... dodo?
i literally have no motivation vector...
                   literally none...
                  i wish i had one... they call the niqab oppression
but pass-by the fashion magazine and it burns
their eyes out... literally... so they don sunglasses...
and it's all: cool cool... so wazz up?
                 they eat more images than fruits of
vegetables, it's like they... well it really is that they
have to be reminded: 5 x day (five a day)...
                     and i thought i was ******* with a chemistry
degree... but that's just me...
     i just said: the holy roman empire has shifted
a little bit to the east...
                              the germans are groaning
and the austrians are moaning... only because
  the poles started talking the same tongue as the hungarians...
and it's like: why not me? why not me? why not me?
you really want an honest answer?
   yes yes yes!
                   'cos' you were a bunch of *****; savvy?
just wait till they call me "infantile" because
i'm living in a world where history is money and
nothing really becomes monetary...
    ******, you talking ultra-alchemy to me?
                   so if i tell you a stone is the required
unit of currency you'll tell i'm about to don sunglasses
to see better?
                        you've just noticed a party trick
where the table cloth was made redundant: but all
the silverware and glass and cutlery remained in place...
and you're like... where's the meteor?
                  d'uh d'uh dodo... you're looking at it!
next thing tomorrow, i promise you, i'm going to
queue up to the tax officer and tell him:
give me a woman! that defines motherhood! as a JOB!
            you mean that biblical figure hiob?
   no! well... that's when i start finding pregnant
women really... just get *****...
                                 who the **** defines it as a job?
     for some time i really thought it was
the welcome leverage on the existential basis...
         but with homosexuals and surrogate ******
i'm starting to think: i really did read oscar wilde, didn't i?  
               i shouldn't complain, i might be
drawn into                 an era where i had to draw
water from the thames where people took a **** into...
but then again... i live in a place where there's
the river rom... and i know a place where i can
drink crystal-clear water... a little stream surrounded
by a number of horses equivalent to the nazgûl...
so the inverted caron on the u is akin to the umlaut?
just asking... i truly thought you were putting
on a bow-tie to become appealing with a tuxedo;
        oh *******... add the ambiguity of " "
            whereever you like.... take to sneezing underwater.
when it was a square...
no more! no more!
the simp... the the otherwise: not
a simpleton?
it's not a -leton suffix "base"...
not as such...
as such: m'ah... and walla walla...
bear neck non-standards
****... neck-beard
"berserker" qua-soz...
and... that trucker "napkin"
with a baeball CAP-toid...
                  otherwise it's uttered:
the Mendelssohn Report...
or: would you believe it...
a secretively mis-diagnsosis
of the Dover Effect: for... wooing
the unsuspecting proto-gender
weirdos into: a backstage commons
senction...
was... effectually lingering
in the protoplasm stage of: mr. and mrs.
docile: smith...
the churchill - or the standard, base,
definition of an egg -
would never be or become,
the simplified scrutiny via
the egg shell,
the yoke and or whitey protein:
shaky-shaky stephens...
given you're best insured...
in treating chicken meat...
like you'd treat boiling / poaching an egg...
cascade of "in-words" and
"out-words"... **** furthest east...
and then: no slang tongue...
meme for access...
automated to sieve through...
bogus audience... out of 100 people
curated for: "statistics"...
99 of them would have read a snippet
of... let's not crown ourselves with
bombast and waiting for credibility
insurance.
one simply tires of either playing
the lame / superiority game...
or any "game" in transit...
it's not better or no worse...
as long as there's a medium of:
INSTRUMENTAL people in between...
which, also implies...
i can lie down and rot...
because... i have no privy to this...
instrumental, developed staging
of the: necessary man...
precusor:
nature doesn't allow for vacuums
to obstruct its: recycling furore...
    i am somehow necessary...
as much as heidegger becoming necessary...
ontology: not exactly what is...
what is, is, a thespian monopoly...
and the adverts of use-by-dates of...
life, and... "not" life...
with they grey-area of: best before...
"exodus" dating...

as some might say:
cardigans and sputniks...
cardigans and spuntiks...
chequers, cheese...
mr plasticfantastic and... a hitchcock blonde
cwy bay-be:
cwy may be a' loan-sum...
exactly when orthography makes
an entrance on the english speaking
stage... clearly: of non-events!
Mateuš Conrad Dec 2019
the cats seem completely devoid of any fact -
any of the usual seasonal claustrophobia
associated with this month...
let the sane grey days return: pronto!
i'm dying from this... hanging expectation...
4 years of christmas outside of a protestant
country - where: i'm unsure who's who
or rather: who's celebrating what...
civic christmas... throw me back into a catholic
country with no internet access...
with the only entertainment being reading
a book... among the pensioners where:
a chance meeting someone my own age...
died along with the death of the metalurgy
industry... little ol' me aged 8 moving from
one place to another, learning a new language...
fraternity cwy (that, that almost looks like
a welsh word)... baby?
no... i just don't know what to make of christmas...
it's been 4 years in the making...
perhaps i became too used to all the catholics
celebrating this period in a religious sense...
perhaps i could jigsaw my way into these 3 days...
by during christmas eve everyone settled
their grief and beef... they have been fasting...
"fasting"... i.e. not eating meat of the earth...
eggs and fish and... mainly fish...
and christmas eve would be night...
of utmost humility...
i did serve up a circa 15 dish supper...
the prawn cocktail came out of nowhere
when i had leftover prawns from only using
one can of crab meat for the prawn, crab,
smoked salmon cream cheese pate...
trout caviar and dill to garnish...
i made the poppy-seed roulade...
the chocolate coating with sprinkled coconut...
the fish ala greek was there...
the red borscht from beetroots and the dumblings...
but... nothing was really there...
i did all the work preparing the supper...
over 2.5 days and... we sat at the table for...
perhaps an hour... we ate with our eyes
and i didn't even eat a complete slice of bread...
we ate with our eyes...
tomorrow will be no better...
i've already prepared the meat that will be sliced
cold (pork and beef)... i'll just bake the most
perfect tatties... and the pristine sized carrots...
i'll probably bake some peppers and an onion...
and some garlic... glaze it with some honey
and balsamic vinegar... probably sprinkle some
cumin seeds to boot...
and there will be a portion of bigos too...
and... we will still eat with our eyes...
we'll be somehow fasting...
perhaps it's easier... when you have a grandfather,
a former stouch "communist" looking for
god in the depths of dementia and lethargy...
perhaps the superstitious grandmother who
came to the city from a small village where:
farming was still done...
but i guess... family...
they're all ******... but now i see how
the english treat it... in no way different to everyone
else... but i really did think i was going
twice-over mad... when...
classic.fm started it's groundhog day repertoire
bound to a hour on repeat...
if i hear... another ******* christmas carol...
if you play me another aled jones: walking in the air!
i'll flip! so i turned the radio off in the kitchen
becoming soothed with being *******...
somehow irritation became a music that
my body found comfortable...
what a staggering difference between a...
protestant christmas eve and a catholic christmas
eve... 4 years and... this being the 5th...
i have absolutely no sense of anticipation...
in a sense: pst... remember... you're in a protestant
country... in a post-nationalist blah blah...
these are civic festivities... they are irreligious...
i was going to bake butterfly turkey ******* tomorrow...
stuffed with thyme infused butter under
the skin to give the ******* moisture...
but i have already made the pork and beef...
tomorrow will only be the most spectacular
sad day... i can't stomach it...
i couldn't stomach all the presents prior...
thinking about it now...
perhaps until the age of 15...
i can't begin to fathom being so easily let-off...
time and its claustrophobia... 'tis' a season to be
merry... merry about what?
in that civic sense.... outside: even faking
a religiosity is better within the confines of these
3 days that... staging some pseudo-bollocking...
looks like the in-breds are coming home...
the same ones ashamed of their family throughout
the other days in the year...
i can still remember a christmas...
it must have been 1990 - i was four then...
it's a memory but it's more or less a painting...
a round table... the great-grandmother was still
alive... and the extended family was there...
aunts, uncles... cousins...
now? it's either me and my grandparents...
and an uncle... or it's me and my parents...
and at a time when... you're still not sure whether
your mother is having adverse side-effects
to the anaesthetic after a hip-replacement operation...
in god's given everyday-grey-mantra-of-monotony:
this would be a walk in a park...
but given: what's to be "expected"...
i was once told a proverb:
you look best with your family: in photographs...
perhaps that should extend to friends too...
oh i do remember what life ought to be...
a weekend in Paris circa 2004 and 2005...
summer and... once in autumn...
it's but a figment of my imagination...
introspection without anger...
my unit of thought that has not succumbed
to a psychological scrutiny -
a gimp suit and some pickling juices...
well... it's hardly an anger when the romanticism
of depression: melancholy is so ripe...
but to the cats it's just another day...
and here's me... with predicates...
celebrated christmas: matthew "celebrated"
christmas by cooking a supper on christmas eve
that everyone decided to eat with their eyes...
a meal that... has matthew a wife,
a daughter or a son?
does he want a wife and a child?
would that change - the otherwise overshadowing
impasse of existential "problems" that
could never mature in their...
mainting a sense of: a problem...
if such problems were replaced with...
not buying a daughter / a son a gift they'd want...
not earning enough money to treat a wife
to something?
problems and... problems...
i guess i should be content with my problems:
"problems"... i should be happy wearing my own shoes...
even though: i wish i could have seen this
food disappear, today... hollow bones left:
even the marrow ****! gone...
perhaps then i'd be happy... if i cooked and what
i cooked: disappeared...
that would be a thrill...
but then... "beggars pride"? is that even allowed?
murky waters of everything that...
i remember that look...
timing... a beggar woman outside a supermarket...
a man giving her spare change...
oh he wasn't looking at her giving her the money...
he was looking at me giving her the money...
the guilt-tripping...
i can almost imagine: in a cashless society...
she suddenly takes out a debit-card payment
machine and... i give "charity" via...
what already is a cashless society...
does racial distinction have to be minded -
you're expected... hell... i expected all this food
to be eaten by ghosts of my dodo cul de sac
family... last time i heard:
the worst gift for christmas is a card filled with
money... i've received those once or twice...
i have to agree with myself:
this should not have been written...
but given that there are no typos bound to it...
i did something that tradition required...
which is a real shame that...
it can: that so many things will die...
before i actually die...
and for some reason...
there's nothing of despair bound to it...
only an irritability: cookie-coating it sweet...
it's irritating that something will die before
i die... tradition... social norms...
cultural cliches... call it what you like...
autopsy: to "blame" a "at-no-one's-expense of fault"...
a chair is a chair...
a moon is a moon...
today is just today...
tomorrow is just tomorrow...
2am is just 2am...
a glass of whiskey is just a glass of whiskey...
there are no consequences...
just detours...
perhaps somewhere a mind less preoccupied
with writing this little something...
tending to far more important problems:
to life's problems... not de facto problems...
nothing existential... nothing continental...
nothing associated with: jean-paul sartre
did his autobiographical stunts...
lived with his mother... was given a state funeral...
beneath which there's that english pride
of country and estate...
you've made it son... being freed from all
familial ties... at least...
or perhaps: i was given the wrong first impressions?
come to think of it...
i don't know the english...
i went to a school in a perdominantly irish
neighbourhood...
last time i checked... the irish went back home...
why the **** i didn't go back "home"...
perhaps it would have helped if i was born
here, in england... perhaps then i would have this
urge to go back "home"...
and almost every time i visit... i do...
but only because the grandparents are there...
no... no conclusive wisdom here...
it's christmas and... there's no church presence...
and i'm not comfortable not sitting back
in a secular malaise of my own reading
some Knausgard...
becaused this secular malaise is everywhere...
and i don't have a bunch of catholics
surrounding me... gesticulating the point
of these festivities.... that's mighty bothersome...
which is an exagerration on my part...
why there's a chritmas tree in this house...
well it's there... almost monochrome...
silver and gold...
and it's just there... and... i'm starting...
frankly the period of anticipation is more rewarding
than... whatever it was that was being anticipated:
but never came.
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2018
/                        kneeling? seriosly?!
             can't we accept this act,
counter to standing,
as...
                fruitously-"intuitive"?
to mimic:
          a, "minding a cohort"?
                    death by abundance?!
val kilmer
         in kiss kiss bang bang?
                 like spitzer on anabolics;
       worth contemplation
                                 akin to jerking off to
a "mind", of a toilet paper wrapping
inside of
                      a bottled glue
                                           ooh-moment
of oozing out
                     the necessary extract.
kneeling...
      kneeling...
                          ­ seriously?
                     that's a "bad", "thing"?
church comes... you kneel!
           what's so bad about that,
and there nothing being bad
about a church-state fission
   explained by excess export dynamism
to countries outside
the u.s.?
    you can't, really, can you?
     america all export all extrovert
and then the "shy", introvert
europeans?
                       no woo'm'ah no cwy
bob marley type of
scenario?!
           ****...
       forgot my barth roberts' lost beard...
and m'ah umbrella!
woof woof!
   started to call her: ride on, anna!
barbados via bonkers:
and the pristine
   Cheshire (chess, make a move =  dire):
copper-skinned
                    mixology of *******
evaluations to market standing, army like,
                           up-right: schtiff!
harp of wanting a loss of silence,
   against an itchy finger -
and a heap of hay -
   with a "missing" needle...
            that's a double metaphor that is...
are these poets sure
that they didn't loose a nail
in that bundle of hay?
    perhaps a squinting eye?
     or a lung to admit the circumstance
of drowning?
no?
                              too bad.
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2019
never really understood punk,
or rap...

  i tried, and tried...
went to the pillars...

   n.o.f.x. - decided:
    better stick to the polished
L.P. quality
    of i.n.x.s.
               welcome to wherever
you are

  (that really is,
a complete album,
      like roxette's joyride)...

orange goblin,
    the refused...
    the ******...
i was sold
a.f.i.,
   as being punk,
just before e.m.o.
came about...

               yeah the ramones,
***,
         still little fingers...

but i was always a meat-head...
i remember trying
to crawl out of
a slipknot mosh-pit
when the london arena
was still standing,
near canary wharf...

meat-head?
   not a skin head...
the guy who used to headbang...
not that i ever aged
from my beginnings...

i already mentioned
schumann...
   and all the other great
pianists...

    god module:
   that's...
     slaughterhouse music...
if equipped with
something akin
to wumpscut
or tanzdiktator...
  you're basically
looking for a comb-over
relief to once,
upon a time,
  using your head
and spine at the butcher's...

meat-head...
  i've survived a
brain haemorrhage
aged 21...
no one believed me...
so they enlisted me
in the danger-brigade
of schizophrenics...

         i'm looking around
with **** similis
and thinking?
   this is very unusual...
hell... i should be so lucky...
no other medical condition
is given as much
poetry, outlets...

   schizophrenics
are like the cardinals
to the bishop melancholics...
and the pope?
   no one's ego.

funny... the best metaphor
ascribed to cancer is...
what i found,
growing off a tree...
   mistletoe...
mistletoe is a botanical
parasite...
sure... cancer as giving
alien birth that is never
born...
   but somehow,
people have a fetish
for schizophrenia,
or... not having read enough
poetry...

psychosis...
contra ingesting hallucinogenic
drugs...
they are, quiet the pair
of magnet opposites...

     so this one instance when
my girlfriend told me
i would be more comfortable
without the ******:
it's like she didn't see...
i imitated circumcision...
it was already
uncomfortable...
    
              abortions: well...
excuses excuses excuses...
   with no job upon
graduation?
                 where did i leave
that "oops" moment?
so i went to a *******
to check...
    no... the rubber is not
that bad...
  i already have
the sensitive part of a *****
intact...
   sure...
if i was circumcised...
then not using
   a rubber would mean
something...
    
   gathering from what i learned
watching das boot
and the german joke
about yankies being semi-semite,
i.e. circumcised...
   i don't know if,
i can follow...
the argument...
   provided by a circumcised
male...

   give me a minute...
......................................................
­...................................................
.............­...................................  
.......................................................
no,­ sorry, what?
the circumcised male is
to dictate to me...
how...
       only once did i have
*** like an uncircumcised ****...
when a *******
****** on a rubber
before i managed to fully
undress myself in her presence...

and i took a risk every time
i "folded the umbrella",
"took off the tux",
    my top-hat... whatever you
want to call it...
what with the two protruding
veins...

     excuses excuses excuses...
counter-argument doesn't even
exist...
           there's only the moral
question,
         or there's: no question...

landed in ****...
   and in so doing:
started doing choc angel shapes
in the mud...
while a litany of
democratic pigs asserted
that was to become of me:
flesh... or bone?

the days when circumcised men
talk down to uncircumcised men...
the circumcised men...
who haven't been humbled
by jewish orthodox rigour...
*****-nilly...
            no w'oh m'ah nou cwy...

it's a European
"superstition" to assume
all american men as
being circumcised...
    or maybe... looking at all the ****:
that's just normal...
it was always going to
be a "necessary" revision
of the human product...
like... cutting off your big-toe
or your ears...

  hell... maybe there's a middle
ground...
   all uncircumcised men
should be coupled with
     all the examples of f.g.m.
because, somehow...
the two don't work...
might as well write
the kama sutra rubric
for monotheistic religions:

circumcised men
uncircumcised women

                         uncircumcised men
                         circumcised women

circumcised men
circumcised women (islam)

   uncircumcised men
    uncircumcised women (fans of simon
                                    & garfunkel).
i should have never experienced school...
all the best lessons in the "school of life"
have had to come after...
thankfully i'm a thoughtful drunk...
but my extended pedagogy honeymoon
was to my liking since i was in it...
having left it...

i don't even begin to fathom leaving
anything at all, or for that matter: having engaged
with to begin with...
i can almost imagine myself
being the chimney-sweeper...
i hear the name: samir... and i'm reminded:
about my "good old friend"
with a father that sides with my mother...
i'm trying to not rage against a defeatist
ratio of 2 versus 1....

i go into the night and wish to find a variant
of baptism with the cold rain
sprinkling me with aura and demand...
but it's no use... the rain comes the book
is never to be finished...
back into the wall: you brick is all that
is allowed to resonate...
perhaps transcendence is a word mostly used
as a joke for...

and only if you were given
the ability to expand your consciousness...
with an amazonian extract...
or some swiss-CIA-magic puree...
on yer bike and down the hill we go...
i've come to center around the truth
of being less and less welcome...
my friend samir... it's almost as if i was
plotting to keep me in this...
surreal state of: full command of the body...
the mind is still allowed some function,
crossword puzzles and what not...
for some death comes with no sense
of closure... i wait, i wait, for death...
i look for it under the carpet of spontaneity...
i look for it in outright violence and
drenching myself in flammable liquid
and then dancing of the nearing: being extinguished
candle dance...

i see i birdge... i look for: the heights
and the broken neck and spine...
it's better i write these words and not feel inclined
to fathom them with an inclination
of the base of: acted interim...
for negative consequences...
there are jobs! but all the best jobs are passed
verbatim... no one finds jobs via
third party sources...

unless.... well if one is a pariah...
an anathema... whether it's an objective reality
is another matter...
feeling is rather much intuitive...
and if this right-wing celebration of objectivity
and anti-subjectivity is to be found
elsewhere, i.e. "elsewhere" outside of the realm
of psychopathology?
the "old man" was looking for a *****
apparently "lost" to aid his glasses being folded
and kept in an ennui...
the old matriarch sent her bell-boy to figure out...
why the bell-boy managed to serve her
sorrel soup and those dumplings...
for dinner...
her o.c.d. started kicking in...
with one walking stick she pointed at the fridge
being unclean...
how the bell-boy "forgot" to vacuum
the house... a second day coming...
i have a bottle of whiskey for company...
and i'm not going to sentence myself for anything
better to bribe about...
the father sides with the mother
and i have no siblings to conquer the world with...
not sentiment of treating the lateral in transition...
going to school was never my idea...
i should have moved beyond merely
denying myself being confirmed in the catholic
act of: good faith...
but university was no better...
i've learned more on my own that was
i was necessarily prescribed...
even my british citizenship is only a piece of paper
that can done-away with like
a tabloid press release on any given day...
it's a bogus transaction...
for the sins of visiting a ******* i am to be
punished? what of the everyday ordeal
of thse casual fucky-fucky that pass on s.t.d.?
the only reason i believe in a god is that:
he will not speak with a human impertinence...
in that however mild caste hierarchy...
even with a republic in mind...

for ten years i spectated oddities in the night
havens...
stars... moving beside the constellations...
once i witnessed two stars somehow
joint together moving across the sky...
sometimes a delta constellation...
otherwise they were stars...
and they managed to pulsate as if giving birth...
and then hush down and still persist
to move...
for not basis of escaping a constellation...
which they were never a part of to begin with...

and i was naive at first,
then i found the cynic...
and then another... cynic...
and then another cynic... cynic... cynic...
and now i'm looking
for the marriage of the stoic to death...
because i don't look for death
as a mark of despair...
i find it as a reflection on redemption!
i conclude with myself:
happy are those who have...
crossed most falsely a street...
why do i have this spatial awareness
and cross it freely, safely?

oh this cynic will become a stoic...
but only in death...
death... is a marriage i see coming...
death has become a she...
in that she's the other woman:
which is not a poker hand of:
the "other" woman in the pursuit of
adultery... this "other" is no less than
a second mother...
the mother that should have given
life to me...

what theatrical wording:
to be born of death...

- because i'm yet to "feel" - or lack...
for a "better" word for "know"
when it comes to the deciding a better
happenstance of an outlet...

that i am no more than a walking abortion?
the roulette of the housing staff
of Downton Abbey...
i still cook the better half of the meal...
but that's still not never not enough...

the lacklustre of darwinism being
so widespread...
how darwinism is so widespread and common...
and there's no voice of "god"
or a david attenburough narrative to billboard;
how this is never the enlightened age...
since each individual comes and goes
from starters: a priori...
not even with the collective quest of man...
there's no a posteriori status-reality...
there's always an a posteriori starting:
bothersome brick and clown...

- because you never visit russia and get slapped
in the face by a girlfriend...
for not lying...
visit your dementia riddled grandfather to be
is not you having the ******* attitude
and having a beta-******* the side...
if ever that's a conversation starter...
but i didn't back i just ****** harder...
until the 300 Spartans would appear...

and for all that the sun has to offer...
the night the moon and the stars...
not being ****-brick-built
for the affair of the goliath gorilla
versus the lion... in a match-up...

i much appreciate the phrase:
to be born of death...
i see life and a second coming as an arrival...
the rotting corpse doesn't bother me...
i will be forgotten and a month will pass
and the flies will become
all fidgety class A...

some + + + to mind afterwards...
you can never wake up from a mother:
sort of loving you...
it's no movies honey...
it's the basic tricklets of mantis...
and you finally arrive at death:
death your second mother:
your real mother...
who is not part of the nitty-gritty
aspect of *** as both a pleasure...
and a procreation "tool"...

the only reason as to why i abhor darwinism
is not that it's wrong...
it's right... but... i "like" i "dislike" has nothing to
do with this... no one begins anew:
with some social engineering focus
and only cites this one theory:
darwinism... "confusing" the circumstances
of the crows, the lions...
the bears for god's sake...
even the heliocentric model does how as far
as what making an geocentric model exit
allowed with the discovery of gravity!

to me darwinism is a plague on all manner
of thinking... whether that be
bow-tie-and-towing thinking
or, quiet simply... puppet that *******
***** gag of a mouthful...
and let's see her...
spit teeth and lecture us on...
"forgotten" basics...

i'm either simply tired... or quiet simply:
enough!
tired or sad...
funny... the better part of "madness"
is better associated with
a seance of lethargy...
the mad are "lazy"...
or perhaps they're "lazy"...
because the collective money is spent...
un-collectively...
even in capitalism...

i play Igor the Ignorant...
harry and meghan markle...
***** 'arry?!
are supported by... tax-payers?!
really?! oh wow!
there's that argument of:
shut the **** up...
and there's the argument...
which i majestically prefer...

walk into a field in the depth
of night... find some horses...
then pretend to be holding
a cube of sugar...
or a slice of apple...
then... manoeuvre your head
dislocated from your body...
jack-in-a-box style...
when the horse falsely nibbles
on your skin...
and retorts with a gallop while
standing...
luckily missing your ******* 'ed...
because the horse "thinks" you're
playing stupid...
no... just the roulette...
i'm looking for my mother death:
have you seen her?
i want to impregnate her
with a makeshift ***** consciousness...

i'm going places...
i've been to st. petersburg... that should
be worth enough... stamps...
but i have had these "adventures"...

a herd of them! in a field!
two albino stags and a litany of the elders
standing watch...
me them the night the moon
and the field...
and... the horse is mad!
i didn't extend my hand to pretend
i was holding an apple!
or a cube of sugar!
horse's mad!
sir john the squire!
i said 'ave 'ee!
no the horses said:
the buckle do-better pretended his arm was
the apple of concern...

oh sure sure...
the never mind the 'ed that was about
to be kicked in by the buckling hoof...
my most n'est-ce pas kind sir!
like i said:
i'm a walking abortion...
and thank god that i'm to be excused
from moral, fatherhood, status...
character flaws...
the lest of me is... the best of me...
esp. anti replica stature...

but i do love my mother...
never mind i want to be this premature
freak of her's in having the privvy of
dying before her...
that would be, most, lovely...
i always fathom a life worth living as also
having the chance to die before one's own
parents...

as i love my second in coming to fruition
mother... namely death...
and whether a heaven or a hell...
i am assured a nap...
a kipper for the better part of...
acquiring some, Velsh!

yn coch, coch?! flacid.... bunker baron thereof!
mild instructions of the oxford bunch
with their chief sermon-writer...
hardly a Knox when a Wittgenstein would suffice!

is red, red?
i only ask... since i'm an acquired body
to a most fulfilling mind of concern...
looking for "converts"...
among the welsh...
the scots? hardly the gaelic bunch are they?
they prefer to stress their:
accents of speaking the lesser
Westminster & Eton bra... brachhhhh...
loch! not lodge of cheao:
and no "N" either...

i spent three years in Edinburgh...
and 10 years in vicinity of London...
and all this time... i should have taken
a ***** in the centre of Caerdydd!
eh... funny simples and symbols...
you never know who to side
with on these islands...

gorllewin neu na gw...
close proximty to gw? zło - evil...
but there's no... coming back with:
friends, romans, countrymen...
lend us a ****-bag of lemonade non-fizzy!
syrian or lebanese intellectuals...
starve for this sort of base,
content... or none do...
perhaps we're the porky-pie starving:
Glasgow holocaust ready...

cornwall... of south wales...
the white cross on a black canvas...
korn-walia... cornwall...
walia - wales...
siding with the picts was a mistake
concerning this already...
troubled heart...

cushion savvy - always accessible Velsh...
drwg yma... drwg yma...
na pentref ynteu na ddinas ddiogel...
or some other "monstrosity"...
esp. when the Lebanese french speakers
come! and... they've already come!

but i was expecting to learn some
gaelic from the scots...
unlucky for me...
that i still find the welsh as outsiders...
and retaining their: tafod!
there can only be one...
proud people of these isles...
and that's the welsh... the Cymraeg...
eh... opaque petty englishmen...
call it a Kymraeg...
i call it via zee fwench cedilla avenue:
Çymraeg!

blah blah mon petite cherie!
**** a fwanchmon mon je sui allias: non?!
learn some welsh of 'ebrew... no brou?
no velsh b'woo?

a mishtaken identity cry-oh! asis?!
cwy... oh... asist... this T is a
monsieur tapisseriesourd...

vell 'ear all better left "off":
mistaken-hier or hum ha or otherwise...
the inquisitive nuance of the wording...
plus the spanish queer-position..
of the  levitating wheelchair bound?

the horse the "fake apple"...
the nibbled on hand...
the near-miss kick on the head
hoof imprint and...
that god awful beauty of a full *****
of a moon! to leave a feeling
of crescendo... had i died...
i'm always looking for premature
death...
this sort of luck?
is no luck at all...
no wonder i find the gods
reticent of an existence...
this comedy of i...
given this pronoun injustices of
the freed peoples republic of the congo...
grammar lessons! chop chop!

faking a handshake with a boa constrictor...
the snake i don't mind...
the chimp pretending to fake fwendsqueeze-it
is bothersome...
some of us remain idiotic till the end...
i would rather the reality of a tiger...
than poker-mind a fellow ape...

darwinism quote: so so...
here's to finding the right sort of tapeworm
infestation... a barrage of eggs
in a single slice of dodgy bacon...
i just can't stand...
pretending... when what i'm eating with...
i much rather prefer to eat...
and not talk...
because... m'ah curiosity and...
the chicken drumstick aesthetic appeal...
and the mostly assured lanky
extension of the human arm...
which equates itself to the lanky
almost meat-free representation of the duck's...
"leftover"...

how else was this not to be conjured from?
everything i say is disbelieved...
i say red: it's "blue"...
i say blue: i'm a better renown of a safeguard
cabbie matching up to my Lebanese status
of: doctor...
i'm also drunk... i'm tired...
i know that Tahir means little bird
in Pakistani... or little pigeon or at least that's
also a synonym of...
the bird that got away...
probably a sparrow...

2am looms and i have no worth of a woolen shirt
on my body...

english people exploring grammar school
*******...
the pronouns and otherwise...
the "gender neutrality" of the ROYAL:
ONE ought to...
and WE should think so...
hello! the leftoever crown of the guillotined
head?! for all the coom'on'R's?!

stealth theiving of common...
chemistry's prefixes...
trans-...
cis-...
the sort of prefixes mostly associated
with studying chemistry!

- i can be expected to least fathom the...
unpredictabikity of any sort of..
forthcoming: how, ever,
to diguise this coming onslaught and
monstrosity...
this wing clipped...
this lip purged from kissing...
this ear to listen,
this eye to see...
these fingers becoming
dexterity prone via a simple task of attempting
the tirade of a piano...

one was expected,
we were all so hopeful...
gender neutrality of pronouns
for god's sake!
no mongol would think twice
to call it a cheap-steal....
even if poland was named: crown...
and lithuania was....
lithuania... the "left-over"!

mam marwolaeth!
pwy e gobaith darganfyddiad!
ever since i've quit smoking: beside those two
self-congratulatory puffs at the end of
each day...
                    more and more people are smoking...
in movies...
        they look so... content with
the stampede of the locomotive breath...
                interludes into 5 minute incissions
of absolutely dis-satisfaction...

                    4th of july... some variation
of independence day...
                      i'm planning to visit Loon'don...
for a sport of: zoology...
                i'll take a hubris and hiatus magic
pouch of liqour with me...
expecting: riots...
                  
        peacocks and pistachios...
            porcupines and pomegranates...
molotov cocktails and bagpies...
               i just want to see... oxford circus
yawn... i want to take the scenic route
of a promenade upon stepping off
the tube...
        perform the dull task...
of... window-shopping for mannequin
in restaurants...

    oh god... i'll have to trim my beard...
dissolve some sugar in water
and put it in my hair so: stick-ing anti-wind
gravitas...
             i'll walk this mistanthrope
on a leash of good riddles...
            i'll play the part of someone from
norwich...
    not someone from romford...
              Loon'don the tease from
Mashiter's Hill...
              plain as day: the sky-line in
my hungry eyes...
  almost towing a cow:
                  
         and of course i want to be seen...
how otherwise not so settle the matters
of sensibility...
of this ******-fest of: the obeying conundrum...
4 dada suicides: published by atlas press
in an edition of 1000 copies...
2005...
         what a fraction i do own....

        arthur cravan among the four...
the nephew or... some variant of...
related to... oscar wilde...
                 yes... the physiognomy
are a steal... in terms of what's resembled...

  i trip down: don't tempt me... memory
lane...
   world was I: and the war...
   the dada movement in Zurich....
   cabaret voltaire...
                        Geneva? well...
fast paced betting...
          live and try to not get rich...
something to get by... working for...
a loitering wage...
if you gave me... 2 tonnes of soil...
a tonne of gravel... and said...
3 hours...
                 fair-*******-afro-frenzy
    and enough...
         but "work" as a loitering...
                     what "lockdown"?
the neighbour finally put up a fence
after 15 years of her being implored...
the old roots and stumps had to be dug
up... all the way from
late february...
     a new shed... 13sqm of wimbledon
turf to admire and water...
                       i have to forbid myself
joy... though... in telling my maternal
grandfather: i've quit smoking...
    before he dies: and i pretend to wish
to grow old: i hope this happens...
this... carrier pigeon message is passed...

only today the bewildering... sacrilege...
i was watching: corpus christi...
2019... point being...
it was in my native tongue...
with english subtitles...
         i can't pretend...
   i was more eager to read the subtitles
than to listen to the "mother"
and the "father"...
      sure as hell and that they will die...
this language will die in the vicinity...
then within me...
who am i going to speak it to...
i can imagine... "30 years of and tomorrow"...
and i'll speak it:
zapomniejać mówienie po polsku...

russian interlude i'd call them...
i'll most certainly not me...
a lithuanian ****** miłoš....
              i have to arrive at the prospect...
i am not really arriving at
a country left... or a country arrived at...
"nation": ah ha!
                     siamese twin horror:
bilingual freaks...
             i was always told to shy
away from the concept of a diaspora...
unlike... the jew the italian...
the russian oligarchy...
                      and english...
what... i... made... of... it...

neu-concept...
              i... a pronoun category word...
some obnoxious... reflexive-reflective
quadratic of anti-narcissus...
i: a pronoun... perhaps...
but i as... king george minded...
i: verb!

                          i will take: will i?
i like the idea of the 4th of july...
the tokyo olympics...
that one event in the sport calendar...
when... i don't feel infringed...
with a body capacity to...
perform... a palé - i do have a body...
for greek wrestling...
antithesis judo...
but sure as **** a plethora of body shapes...
ping-pong table assured...
click-bait... without a tennis racket...
and that's why...
squash would have been a good
choice to join the olympic racket...
olympiaco(s) raquettes...

   lofty body builders... ant-worshipping...
not relevant though...
sprint a 100m...
climb 100m...
    clearly toned equilibrium bodies...
bouldering and baseball...
no squash...
     tennis is hardly an olympic
sport...
           it's a money sport...
it's a riviera elton john slim jr.
sort of sport...
football? it's a money sport...
rugby? it's a ******* sort of sport...
football is about as much
an olympic sport as...
a curse of a sneeze...
the only reason why brazil
staged the sporting affair was...
because they lost the world cup...
blah blah...

       squash should be an olympic
sport... why it isn't...
and forest ******* gump
can have his... ping(o)-pong(o)
   berlusconi parties: minus... tony blaire...
is all the reason to note...

hmm... blaire... white... that tehran
trans whizz kid...
   i see... no... no... absolutely...
not similarities... within the confines...
of... "a borrowed shadow" of...
   eva longoria...

i had the same plans for halloween...
the same plans for prague...
prague i can forgive myself...
mother has a hip-replacement...
and i'm all up-and-arms: ******...
like the good boy scout
buffalo billy-oh / geiny boy!

                to suffer from a lack of ****...
is not... to find jokes in language:
when one still has... itchy finger-tips...
"suffer"... and "lack of ****"...
best resolve... no clingy p.s.
             no... cuckoldry...
    the fabled ex-girlfriend of mine...
ex-....
   ****... how old am i? 34...
an ex- from... ah... ha ha... when i was 21...
prostitutes... a thai surprise...
and a black girl done at random
when i hosted my own birthday party...
with an art of an *** so tight...
i received a plum tattoo above...
where her coccyx decided to toy with
the... "art of mechnical reproduction"...

walter... "waterboy"... benjamin?
herowitz? i too had a really ****** surname...
like... ******... like stalin...
catholic ploy... take the best of the three given...
we also reserve an option of a fourth
when you... decide to... become...
confirmed... lucky for some atheists:
who have been... unlucky for me...

of the people that stayed...
    of the people that left...
             unlucky for me...
   those that left: didn't "leave"...
the australians...
            left and "left" and it's not like...
they came back speaking
total ******* cockney...

       it's not that i'm even confused...
"overwhelmed" with emotions...
that reveal themselves...
to have to be... perpetually... displaced...
post-modernist...
quack for doctor...
quasi for marxist astute!

                my ideal ex... rich girl...
one spare apartment in st. petersburg...
riches in novosibirsk...
      educated in england...
   look at me... i ****** a rich ****...
a prop'ah... rich ****...
a russian rich ****...
   not old english sloth dough...
not a reperations **** of worship
that choc-a-bloc-of-sowwy...
  a real... oyster binding with teeth
sort of libido... well! ha! lucky me!
for a ******! she's not a mongrel 2nd
class citizen of the turnip and tulip
and...
   beg R'ah-R'ah-Rhapso-silly-Pullin'-Tin!

you know... i can remember
the love at first sights in my life...
she... Ilona... i experienced in reverse...
two girls were trying to fry some
pancakes...
she hook and sinkered my iPod...
while i refined the idea of pancakes...
she looked like...
something the ugly duckling
would bully at... duck school...
filled her gob... smart...

        yeah yeah...
but i do remember all the times
i experienced love at  first sight...
and their names...
the best horror movie i would ever land
in being a critique for...

1. Milena...
                          2. Kot...
      i can't remember her name...
that's her surnane... she had...
                   two younger sisters... twins...
3. samantha... st. augustine's primary school...
4. janina (canon palmer... an ugly affair...
    i hoped i made reperations to...
joining art class and giving her a rose)
    5. gemma la porte...
  6. emma... a big... ******* sensation...
  7. let's just call her Sancha...
  irish girl... two years older than me...
still in highschool...
8. Isabella... the french psychology student...
and god begot: a loss of virginity...
   9. priya...
     who's the 6 / 7...
             the sister of my first girlfriend...
which would make... a 18 year old...
a pedohpile with a... 15? year old...
                      10. predates 4...
cameron diaz in the mask...
    11. is a cameflouge of Ilona...
my love at first sight in reverse...
if i stayed long enough...
i would have ***** myself to oogle
my eyes out and **** her like
some aria giovanni clone...
                big siberian nose...
her myopia and being plasyfully teasing
"short"...
yes yes... beside that... massive plum
bullseye...
        we must call that:
                wetted ****: seconds...
  
see... i have this cinema in my mind...
of first loves... loves at first sights...
more thirsts rather than thrills...
and... then i want to see Loon'don...
in zoological modus operandi...
i want to see...
    window-shopping for mannequins
of... sylvia plath borderline psychotic
shoelaces of soul...

         i want to shop for...
the agony confined to... raised eyebrows
and the confines of... all things made
easily extreme bound to ****** expression...
having to... self-lacerate...
before the pro-social cordial...
i want to see the future martians...
misantrophes... like-oid mois...

i can honestly be trusted with "love"...
call it the muse....
first sighting...
her moles her first trickled...
lob of the forgotten kiss...
the whirlwind thorough lintany...
her lapse in a guarantee of
ear lobes...
    like my... "shy"...
                  occipital lobe....
investigated by janina...
                                
                           that little light in a tunnel...
a summer in masovia... or mongolia...
or.. whatever is called...
crisp... and doughnut...
idaho... jeffrey: jeff'ohs "napoleon dynamite"...
    dahmer...
                                 mon'ghouls:
the goos of the freely rejected...
cousin Sib is no mal. and frying up
with word-blob Sah...
          -eria              contra...
bloat-zilla...                -ara...
                               death-stow genius no-no...
trans-nanny has an eastender melt-meow-down...
the opera goes: fly-be-fwee:
lucky luke and the fervour
of the force for a complete...
****-lawd comeback town: towwie...
gripping basics...
                       king jefffers...
and jaffa... and khalidha...
     and lay-tea-cia... milkin' dozens...
**** ****...
      ******* whapping 'inge...
                 cwy: rhapsody... remembers
to trill that Sysiphus... and -esque...
              
        ***** and blahs the world over
for...  solidarity of...
compensated vitriol...
       jeff is an ugly u(n)(c)kle...
jeff is a ****** loon:
serenity... theme park expactation
project: alpha 50.9...
     he's an an FM in frequence...
and best listened to:
when "reading was a thing":
typo... of digest...
a **** queen and ***** quag...

             calofornian subtitles...
ever since...
   ever since... a petty Hague and Hue...
european conquest of time...
and something akin to
h'america... and its louisiana purchase:
ratio no. 2!
fly-over **** Iowa...

  it's not like... croatia was...
the Balkans was such a small: and ditto:
afffair of... inbreeding folks...
lord: lowd and...
spandex 1980s Berlin to...
give revenue in all things
that catered in retaining...
a loathing of... pertained to...
CWISP...
                    trill the R who?
the french hark it...
the english... larp...
woebot... for every robot...
they... tarantulla tongue numb
that...

                 whyming...
RHYME-B'OH...
            ******* kings and queens...
it's the "united states":
having to annex the forntiers...
the annex
on conquistador...
velcommen mingling xo xo xo...

the "encrypted" sexuality
of a the concept of female hands...
misguided by the proportions...
best hid in a niqab...
but when exposed: pork meets...
buffalo-slingers...
no... arab / camel jockey hands...
are not beijing...
or ***... porcelein hands...
you could... **** a ******* camel neck...
and i am: the beck unfucked cockrel
you best wish: yawn-yacht...
you never never...
ever... called a forking...

   arab women have these fat
hands that black women...
would require... 12" of envy
a white anorexic would require of them...
to muster...
a blasphemy and... a kenyan litany...
some of that sort...
all i know...
jesus be all big with...
                   post-apocalyptic
protestantism in post-colonial...
"oops" of the 21st century...
          forgive i.e. tow what?

               how about...
i allow my grandfather a death
by demetia...
               and then i wait...
i wait for nothing...
or i wait for: "history"...
no... sooner i wait for...
the brothel... than this bollocking waste
of time of... frank zappa is...
burning up like...
            a heretic...
                    within...
a 1m sq. of a proximity to mecca!

how fortunate: the man with... none...
              how fortunate...
             the grievance of a man with so much...
to have to... find...
poker-dole... facing...
a man with the queen's penny...
i am a man worth of a queen's penny...
does that even become know...
respected...
for all the money grieved into
making up...
the honoruable citizens' tax invested:
"quest"...
i am... its last...
           radical... and...
                                     royalist...
i have to come...
with a parade of worded -ings
and thinning paroles!

                         this birth of a new:
a nation of fat-whips and bores!
              let me become inclined to leisure...
for the lost revelation of
a tenure of fiction!

what was "once" a female...
has "become" the homosexual...
what was "once"... the mother in law...
has now "become": the bridget...
and nuance shellshock...
               fraserburgh... kid-joy... ****...
an ode to: joe... the...
                       ben nevis and bon jovi
of... the... "nuanced"...
and...                 "pioneers":
all best reserved...
   for the alaskan and the louisina purchase...
and...
the lost told tide of...
the spaniards: arms...
goths... north africa...
reconquista...
conquistadors...
sooth talking some mayans
and aztecs into: "in-breeding"...
        miriad... moors...
gives us a tan... us... whitey loop holes...
  tanning with a mongrel
cocktail a mongol...
typo... tan ****-up tao...
tanning with tao...
tow tufu **** what?!
       beijing fwend a fwied deifying
pig loco?
vibes... first locomotive **** promo...
last fist comes first and thirst...
no... samuel beckett's sore...
so... sore n'oh m'aw...
   savvy... you... *******... gooseberry
savoured prim nancy?!

— The End —