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Mateuš Conrad Oct 2015
of course the age of scientific positivism
was glorious,
the hopes for curing the lamentable ivory cavity
the hopes for anaesthesia in surgery,
it was all there, with all the great minds...
but then our age came along with humanism’s negativism,
and i mean that sincerely...
if you take a concept, like god, and give it to science,
the best it can do in its parameters is take 1...
divide it by the nth term and say something like
0.000000000000000000000000000000000000000001
in relation to something else, which its a part of...
i wish i was deeply religious on this point,
but a catholic school education reminding me
to start early with ethics minding only one ethical decision,
i.e. abortion brought feminism with it...
but as one orthodox christian girl said: even without
legal rights between us... you must accept!
eh... why?
god does not belong to science, science deals with numbers
and a few words...
imagine the book of genesis: and in the beginning was a number...
any random number... let’s say six... and six correlated
with aries, taurus, gemini, cancer, leo, libra...
well that’s half missing...
this argument is starting to make me look silly...
this whole word word word... let’s quantify vocabulary for quality assurance...
it’s the q. and q. relativity, the q-q in terms of saying
(that's the coordinate parallelism between science
and human-ism, where the former states
two essentials - space & time - the latter states
its two essentials - quantity & quality;
now imagine einstein working in the humanistic medium,
it would sound something like... 'hmm
of a french novelist's output i can say as much
as: eat your j. keats and have him too):
the closest i came in comparing the greeks with the jews
is to claim that the students of the kabbalah are like the greek philosophers
in the vein of democritus... who took to a, b, c... x, y, z equivalent to atoms...
albeit phonetic atoms that gave us BIG physics of the planets
and meteros and newtonian linear(s)... and little physics... quantum stuff...
like why the romans wrote el... the greeks lambda and the hebrews lamed...
ah you know trivial stuff.
all i’m saying is that scientific atheism, in terms of using words
is, too coherent... if you want real atheism, you have to turn to the humanities,
james joyce is perfect... we don’t live in an age of scientific positivism,
we live in an age of humanistic negativism...
all this talk of extinction and nuclear weaponry,
it’s almost like a scare tactic to allow certain professions mechanisation
by robotics... i know it’s real... would the newsstand sell insensible newspapers?
again... if you deny something you’ll only end up doubting it later,
so with sartre trying to escape the cartesian dialectic if a complete and utter failure,
by denying something it’s hardly possible to erase it, make it extinct,
the faculty of memory does not allow this to happen,
so doubt re-enters and the doubting thought process revs up,
the negating thought process is only momentary, a nano-second if you will,
doubting takes aeons to consider itself un-doubted;
so i ask... coming from a scientific background, why would we
care to push scientific positivism further, given all the discoveries and
ease-of-life assurances when there’s this bulging and growing
humanistic negativism, entitled: we are the 99%! hmm?
science will not make economic strategies go away,
nor will humanism... but with humanism, at least there’s a human face
saying something... rather than science itemising everything
to fit 0 next to 1 with a dot between and call it: a tenth of a metre.

p.s. there's only one doubt of denial and it's unconscious,
because denial is a safety mechanism that automates
to provide a blockage against the world events:
*******, ******... war...
denial is automation... doubt is nurturing...
regret... well... that's natural concerning choice
in events not engaged with; honestly, there are people
who have regrets not engaging within the napoleonic wars,
thus they idolise napoleon... a bit like the neo-nazis
and the third ***** scenario... they can deny certain
aspects of the third ***** mechanisation didn't happen,
but they can't doubt it, because doubt-in-itself
is a sort of thrill
(that's covered by a blatant truism in argumentation,
which is denial, which technically robs it
of the doubt cherished for the thrill)...
'****! it happened! it really really happened!'
and then regret comes in and says: 'but you weren't there.'
then nostalgia kicks in... and that line from w. burroughs
about how you got to be an ss-man in a concentration camp:
gauge the cat's eyes out... yes, the one you petted for a month,
fed and gave affection to: gauge... the... cat's... eyes... out!
dass ist ein anführer befehl!
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2016
the users of chinese require a respectable memory of logograms, but then the european languages users require a respectable memory of combinations of a limited number of "logograms", well, indeed limited, in comparison to the chinese range... and in so doing seem to have created a knack, a desire to create iconoclasm, a barrage of excess image crafting, whether in painting or photography, even logos are taken for equal representation among paintings and photographs in terms of being qualified as equals... if there's a quest at hand... it's to find the tetragrammaton in chinese: Y (convergence of three directions), H (the selfish twins of the ego), W (sine & cosine ripples, the ripples of a drop in a lake of a glass of water), and H (the selfless twins of the ego)... something like that - obviously upon interaction, used, the the two pairs of egos become the real dynamism interchanging their coupling... while the Y and W are seemingly constants.*

looking at the many maxims of la rochefoucauld,
so many seem true... but then again too
much truths and not using the Kantian
filter that the categorical imperative is...
and you stumble into custard of a maxim
kaleidoscope... obviously i'm not denying the truths,
but, as Kant pointed out... one truth will do,
the rest as there to be observed as if from-thin-air,
but it's still only one maxim, the ccategorical
imperative spurning you on, all the others do not
provide a vector consistency for you to repeat,
fall back on... i do appreciate the many observations
in la rochefoucauld, but too many maxims
and you do not which to grasp, wrestle with and
utilise to its maximum potential, not one becomes
a vantage point of safety, too many of them
and you're dancing naked under the tree of forbidden
knowledge... making it a bit of a foolery paying
homage to Bacchus... drunk on too much of it...
not really able to incorporate all of it, incorporating
too much of it is hardly strategic, one maxim will do,
a categorical imperative, a strategy of a measured
footpath, one will do...
but apart from that, considering each maxim with
a method i devised... dilution using synonyms...
that old chestnut, king solomon's
Ecclesiastes 1:2... meaningless! meaningless!
utterly meaningless! everything's meaningless!
in another citation the word vanity is used...
now vanity does not necessarily imply meaningless
as the closest synonym... in the latin tongue
vanity (vanus) implies empty... hence my revision
of the cartesian concept of res cogitans (thinking thing)
using res vanus (empty thing)...
if meaningless is given a disruption and a refrained
use, instead using the closer meaning to the latin (empty),
then i can see a better scenario...
everything is empty: emptiness! emptiness! utterly empty!
everything is empty! i find this to be a less pessimistic
conclusion on the matter... after all gravity was empty
prior to newton, who filled it; natural selection was empty
prior to darwin, who filled it; electromagnetic rotary
devices were "empty" / didn't exist until michael faraday
came along... the atmosphere was empty, until
leucippus and democritus came along, later proven
wrong by the supposed non-divisibility of the structures
by otto hahn and fritz strassmann and oppenheimer...
these evaluations suggest that people come across
these empty things, either by direct sensory perception
or through theoretical mingling, and fill them...
there's nothing meaningless as such as stressed by
Ecclesiastes 1:2... things are necessarily empty, in order
to be filled, and that gives meaning to man...
therefore... emptiness!! emptiness!
utterly empty! everything's empty! this, the dilution
using synonymousness as a divergence from
what strict interpretation would provide should
only a limited vocabulary be applied - rather than
an extended vocabulary of a juggling act.
spooky doopy Dec 2014
I am cab ma, please
don’t! Is I, lass, I who brought
scald without such pains.

I am mumbling
coherently a ******
most apparently.

Phospholipids leave
envelope area soon
endoplasmic doom.

Opened neutral taste
I’m sinking in laughing at
something sunken in.

What hell overwhelm
brings ribosome organelle
use geared hither, tell?

Seceded certain
atoms like Democritus
withdrew incursion.

Truncated heavy
organelles under tissue
systems use cycles.

Half polypeptide
accents intergenetic
nuclear spaces.
Percepts of enlightenment & civilization to encounter
The grim aftermath of tales unspoken from the galaxies afar
Betokening Indian tales of deeper truths than ever,
For the Great Spirit still swirls in gestures previously milder,
At a snail's pace and surely winning the pursuit among souls or
Is example better than pre-conceived precept?
or
“Is that a dog in the manger?”
Now cherishing the viper?
The human dilemma between liberty & authority?
“Has mythology now become psychology?”
A dingy white color in disguise of tranquility
To suit the blemished features of the 21st century
With fair women & brave men turning fables into verse,
Yet Socrates’ doctrine about death bespeaks a wafture so callous!
The new-age “iron claw” screams nastiness in time and space.
The pretences of mankind like the puritan;
Mars trapped in the net of Vulcan,
Jupiter is serene and above the conflict to win,
While Venus tries to fight upon the plains of troy
That the Greek gods of serenity may win at Tuscany.
“When do these sultry groans of mortal remorse cease?”
To calm the sordid uproar that Love may peruse
Through the scattered white aromatic rose petals
In search of the scintillating path back to the highland stables
Were snowflakes are an irresistible lure for the Arctic snowbirds!
Nature herself is proud of her designs
Yet!
There is nothing grating in mortal cosmoses but direct villainy.


Sinister fate climbs the lonesome banister faster
Before the “fanged dawn” descends nearer,
As stronger minds virtually become weaker;
These “shameless actors” are melted into “thin air”
“Must they cheat themselves with that same foolish vice of honesty?”
Mischievousnesses feed!
Like beasts till they be fat, and then they bleed
As they are led to bend the curve of “No return”
Since it is only rational that after the darkest of nights
There is a brighter day to reveal the true knights
Of the once gloomy age of Democritus.
Tis plain, from hence, that our vows
Request hurtful intense things,
or useless at the best.
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2016
i can't say much about today, well, i probably will,
made a burger and did house chores with Steptoe,
and i know what you're thinking -
the common trend in western society, you actually
like familial interactions, you're not into
7 year itches, you're not inclined to conjure up
Norman Bates all of a sudden - you're content,
quiet respectably normal - and to be frank,
the following as happened to me: the psychoanalytic
technique of regression, i.e. planting false memories
when being psychoanalysed - page 25 of Friday
July the 8th 2016 the times newspaper - headline:
THERAPIST FACES CLAIM OF "BRAINWASHING"
GIRLS - she implanted in them a Freddy Krueger -
a reverse Friday the 13th scenario -
one psychiatrist tried it on me - he hushed the words:
'oh... he was abused as a child' - but the pronoun
usage was already wrong, or simply odd -
this sort of musing aloud got to me worked up,
i said nothing, i continued with an interview, i had a few,
don't you worry, they passed me around like hot charcoal,
they couldn't put a box on me, (bragging? on this subject,
just the reality of what happened) - they employed about
five psychiatrists and two students to decipher me,
i was holding the joker card every time -
they couldn't understand that a real physical ailment
could be translated into metaphysical ailments -
if you mean metaphysics turned into a lysergic acid-like
experience then i might as well have talked to the police -
five of them, none bothered to use the funding the
national health service gets to book an m.r.i. scan,
they prescribe psychiatric drugs assuming your brain
is a sponge that soaked up a chemical soup -
i'm talking natural sedatives, alcohol, not synthetic sedatives:
anti-psychotics. the structure of the family breaks down
in the west, but it's fine, we have legal partnerships
and gay marriage - i guess the latter is the only positive,
but like any married couple, the nagging will invariably
enter the scene, and given that heterosexual marriages break
down, i'm hardly going to bet on homosexual marriages
being the maiden voyage of Titanic without the iceberg.
so 5 of them, beaten to the core, but only this recent story
made me think of the inherent sadism in psychiatry,
regression "therapy" whereby i did for a moment play out
the trick and thought about what sort of abuse i might
have suffered as a child... oh, that time i taught myself
how to ******* aged 8? well, that's self-abuse -
and a pretty good one i might add, few people will *******
and feel ******* but not the end product, or maybe
just me - so Ms. A (as is noted in Poland when a criminal
is identified) did this regression tactic to break up families,
she might have failed hers, and strategically invoked the failures
into other people - we already know that psychiatrists are
very sick people, we just don't know how sadistic they can be
by being subtle in their methods... after all... thought
equated to the senses is 5 times more fragile, and more
sensual if you think about it - all the senses bundled up into
one function, and we don't necessarily know what that
function is taking away a Cartesian moment of realisation,
your daily chores, your professional web of utilities,
after all, what is thinking? fail-safety-mechanism in philosophy?
ask a question - the alternative of a ¶, a new paragraph.
so when a society shuns public intellectualism, philosophers
poets... who do you think will enter in their place in terms
of political dynamics? yep, the men in white coats with pills...
pills pills pills... nothing more, and bogus theories half
expanded and half shunned by a zoological treatment of
human beings - i know there are exceptions, a man last year
stabbed a pensioner 30 times over a minor traffic-accident,
he was labelled a paranoid schizophrenic... oddly enough
i too was labelled that... a 5 minute diagnostic session,
man comes in, i say - a woman across the street is walking
around naked, and so are her daughters... i'm getting this
****** fuelled fantasy working on me, can you tell her to
invest in curtains? i don't mind the naked bit,
but imagining doing a mother and two daughters is a bit
too much for my pigeon brain.
the stimuli ingested by the senses are nothing compared
to what stimuli thinking ingests -
it's less the sun the moon a summer breeze,
and more McDonald, Gucci: pseudo-capitalism with
your generic schizoid symptom - insinuations.
oh believe me, faking this condition out of personal-interest
was necessary - to fake it, to take an interest in it
to see what the other side was doing about it left me
with an inexhaustible source of resources: experience.
i think i'll end the intro and tell you something else.

two books on my lap, Jung's *answer to Job

and the long hard road out of hell - a semi-autobiographic
by Marilyn Manson and neil strauß -
so before you think i write about religious matters
like some cuckoo evangelist having a library of
only one book and a lot to talk about, i don't -
but we live in times where everyone imitated someone,
that someone is already obvious -
funny though, the Greeks invented the concept
of Antichrist... without knowing that the concept
of anti-matter would pop up about 2000 years later -
a coincidence you say? not given the Atomists
Leucippus and Democritus - the theory of anti-matter,
but in a religious person?! travesty you scream!
john of πατμoς - he had the anticipation of anti-matter
like the Atomists cited (obviously there were some
in the east - the Jain Genies - modern day scenes
from Tokyo and Beijing - wouldn't eat a ladybird
or sniff up an airborne microbe) - but hell, if Johnny
~anticipated anti-matter, but really didn't, why
was the anti person invoked? it took all the dereliction
of religion to provide the basis for anti-matter,
and that's no surprise, it makes it easier to think of
another world, no scientist would come up with it,
because only a religious person would somehow conjure
up a mechanism whereby what was once matter turned
into anti-matter, or a version of Christ that reads,
writes, and doesn't give sermons... well, why not?
let's go crrrrazy. yet the main point of this entry is, well,
the profanity Christianity took to when learning about
the tetragrammaton, there's much beauty in it, and yet
for Christianity a crucifix is somehow an improvement...
benedictio fontis (blessing of the fountain), the sign
of the cross is made - Catholics make it on themselves:
forehead, left right, stab at the heart and then
romeo:
if i profane with my unworthiest hand
this holy shrine, the gentle fine is this:
my lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand
to smooth that rough toush with a tender kiss.
juliet:
good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much
                                                  (you **** a lot),
which mannerly devotion shows is this;
for saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch,
and palm to palm in holy palmers' kiss;
Orthodox Greek and Russian: forehead, right left,
stab at the heart - hey, why not put a few together,
you know, those gesticulations -
(index, thumb and ******* - the "holy trinity"
in Braille) forehead, left right right left (****,
where's a traffic warden when you need one),
and then hand clenched into a fist... smack... a mea culpa
straight away - honestly, god to a Polish Catholic mass...
go to one... you'll end hearing a Satanic murmur
roaming through the crowd, esp. as the creed of faith
being said... shivers down the spine.
but that's what's written in Jung - from the eloquence
of yhwh to † - in effect a bit more than Christian sign language,
more like the acronym n.e.w.s. - north east west south -
and when he said kneel, he replied don't tempt me,
and when he said kneel and all the kingdoms will be yours,
someone ordered chicken chow mein in defiance
to the moment, and China remained with Confucius,
predictably confused when the one-child state policy came
into effect - ever wonder why they play that pebble
game at the Hajj? you think they're throwing a pebble
at a raw Rodin block of stone before the chisel was aimed
thinking they'll throw a pebble and get two pebbles back?
Lauren Sage Apr 2014
These spins
Orbitals quantum mechanics
(Giveupgiveupgiveup)
80 my magic number
Average, all average? Once feared now
Desired wanted
CalculusEnglishBiologyChemistryCalculusEnglishBiologyChemi­stry
I am stretched so thin
But at the same time I dart what could make me succeed
I am not the studywart
But I am still the worrywart
Drown me in electron clouds
Make my noose out of orbitals
My spine will be a neat smooth l, angular momentum number
Spin me until I disintegrate
Until I am indivisible, Democritus, please
Give me an 80 and let me be let me go to Ottawa
Or let me fail gracefully
Disappear
All I ask.



My counselor says black and white thinking
Black and white I don't show up soon a
Letter,
I smell her office on the pages

Lauren, you have not shown up
I am unable to provide you metal health services respond by
April 10th if not we will close your file

It is April 8th and me,

Orbitals will drown me

I'm feeling lucky.
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2016
can you imagine what oddities
arose from quantum physics
and given the linear and parallel
qualities of history, to compensate
for the Gemini affair of such paradoxes?
again the Greeks, atomists
like Democritus proved wrong
with subs in the prior century -
then the concept of anti- introduced
like... here and there,
matter and antimatter - something that
exists elsewhere without necessary
excavation or monetary attribution
for exchange - antimatter, a heaven and hell
put together due to so much of nothing
keeping us star gazing for a zodiac
or snorkelling into the abyss for a thought
deviating from a 9 to 5, 3.2 children ratio
and a semi-detached in the outer-limits
of suburbia.
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2016
too much poetry decides on what's essential,
nothing, is, quite, necessary. although: existential:
too much borne from inexperience
and too much from anticipating it,
yet the fewest to mind the passing as it was,
anticipation reduced to vaccines on the ready,
so much ******* idealism that it makes me sick...
quiet likely... variation of the onomatopoeia yuck,
and there are plenty... da pacem domine...
or questioning Babylonian tactics:
hanging garden' madness remembering the pyramids
prior the Eiffel overcoming...
the tongue! the tongue! the tongue prior cranium!
knock knock... who's there? who's who? who knows?
no, who doesn't care.
i don't know why tilting on the Byzantine titling,
seemed appropriate, what are you?
the leftists who took apart communism
and want censorship to curb right-wing opinions?
Mary ******* Poppins from afar! Birmingham thus far
and so should Venice mind - no river... no flow.
the left are truly readying a box, two gloves,
tango of feet, a header in a football match is like an
uppercut, grey matter extending... well d'uh d'uh d'uh.
glossognomia - the alter to Heraclitus' tears or Logos
v. Gnome, the laughing one's, atomic Democritus -
both a ******'s fancy without a wife -
wisest speech of the *** without womb -
men and tombs, women and wombs... shame we were
born yesterday and certain scripts were deemed holy
and subsequently undecipherable, unquestioned,
requiring prayer, necessary Koran, poetic justices of
expression, Milton und Blake... well hello the idea
of photosynthesis! maybe an Aladdin pyramid or two
on the flying carpet! who the gold digger now?
Mateuš Conrad May 2017
i have being trying to reconceptualiße sūdoku for a while now;
i failed so many times, at trying to translate
it into the equivalent of a western origin,
away from the japanese gensis. i tried many times,
it really took me a few weeks of drinking to finally get it,
i couldn't stop laughing, and i mean: out loud,
because few people can manage that sort of antic these days,
that hedonistic zenith.
                 so while no. 9007 became solved
i realised what i was doing...
                    no. 9007?
                 5 3 9 8 4 6 2 1 7
                 8 7 1 3 2 9 5 6 4
                 6 4 2 5 1 7 8 3 9
                 7 6 4 2 9 8 1 5 3
                 1 2 3 4 7 5 9 8 6
                 9 8 5 6 3 1 4 7 2
                 3 9 7 1 8 2 6 4 5
                 4 5 8 9 6 3 7 2 1
                 2 1 6 7 5 4 3 9 8....
anyway, it became ****** obvious after a while...
i used to do this "*******" in the playground,
but before i tell you the "secret" i need to stress three explanations:
(a)
         --> 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9
               1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 <--
         --> 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1
               9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 <--

            the <--           -->        symbols? the direction the digits
were written in...         i.e. from right to left
                            or from left to right...
                 but that's how it all started...
(b)
                  (x)
                        ?               x
                                 +
                          x             ?
                                            x
   now that's a representation of a graph,
                                            the + meaning the axis
the xs representing knowns, and the question mark
being self-explanatory, and empty space that needs to be filled.
(c)
        this is the funny part... this is where japanese reads
itself into english... the zenith of the conceptualisation of sūdoku...
ha ha ha ha ha ha ha....
             oh ****... stomach ache...
          X 0 X
          0 X 0
          X 0 X                or...
                                                 X 0 0
                                                 0 X 0
                                                 0 0 X        all it ever was!
all it ever will be... is just a complex version of noughts and crosses!
or as some might call it... a set of tens!
                            in roman X = 10.
                              but that's before the concept
of 0 existed, so we can count that as 1, to qualify
the whole ****** thing as: 10 10 10 10 10... binary...
  but that's what this japanese puzzle looks like, translated
into the latin alphabet...  noughts and crosses... but obviously
a little bit more complex, since there are nine degrees of seperation...
   it's an optometric trick the asians played:
   in an english idiom variant: you just have to get your eyes around it,
or rather: into it...
                            just look at how complex the oriental
          phonetic encoding is... no vowels? no consonants?
        just syllables?           i guess no leucippus or a democritus,
or an epicurus ventured into china, or japan,
or elsewhere for that matter, to introduce the linguistic atom,
that's a letter.
      question is... are vowels masculine or are consonants feminine?
              or is it the case that vowels are feminine (****** gasps
akin to drowning)        and that consonants are masculine?
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2018
on the rare occasion that it does happen,
bad news, i was already fired up
to get on with the work,
of painting the corridor,
    when i was informed that
the boazeria (wood panneling)
had a lakier / lacquer finish...
at first i thought that i was
******* at the person giving me
solid advice...
    i stormed out of the house
thinking of the impossible,
yet what dragged me into reflection
of the possibility of: the abyss
of so many lives interchanging
social cordiality hiding beneath
a depth of life: worth more as solid
bricks, than as would be novels...
dare i: suckle at thost most mundane,
and do so, without any
responsibility to burden my
       already freelance devoid matter
of fact, as if: there was no
duty, no inheritence tax on
say, the english speaking world
effort of the memory of 1066...
       well... 1410 is quiet another date...
when the northern crusaders
were vanquished when a nation
of newly converted Christians were
wed to a nation of polyphonic pagans
of ancient Lithuania at the core,
extending: from the Baltic,
                              to the Black Sea...
sad almost, yet blinding nonetheless,
to be bound to the accummulating
eyes...
               hunched, sitting at the tease
of the river before the high tower
of the setting sun, before the altar
of žalias and mother May...
           of course no heroism...
saison: added the zest of bitter
orange, based using French yeast...
had i not peeled off the etykietkę,
the label, i wouldn't be writing this...
thankfully some passing stranger
noticed me, asked me for a light,
thanked me (he too towed
several beers to his abode)
    and without a lost in translation,
lit.: hold on / trzymaj się...
   ty też / you too... came my reply;
had Sisyphus been giving the task -
or told as little...
    anger arose from an immovable
object, yet the day was retained,
in the smallest of fathomable
vanity projects, thinking, or spare
morality, vagabond ethics, Democritus'
dogs and other howling
in crematory urns, graves,
and within spying crow beaks
perched in pretending sleep martyrdom
statuettes...
           are we to **** a poem
for worth of rhyme?
     or suddenly, the uncontained
gong, and rattling chains, crisp to
the 20th bellowing frost-bitten echo:
as replica, of a chattering chess game,
king a tier above the pawn,
pawn the numerous analogue,
a queen, a bishop, a rook,
                   a knight... and a long lost
******...
        but by nighttime the concern
for lacquered wood panneling was gone...
anticipating a full moon
that the calendar later refined as:
till Monday....
       ah... not only in Germany such
beer is drank...
           sure enough ***** comes at pure
night, czysta noc,
        but prior to cliché sword dance with
sweet, come sour, come the barking dog...
perpetual autumn with accents of spring,
till that orb and Atlas and Louis XIV ego
market assurance of a tomorrow:
   HEFEWEIZEN...
         hefe-weiß-bier...
   meddlesome murk and twice worth
the romance associated with the fabbled
smog of London...
     and just today...
   it started in Naples:
        schatten, **** and a fondness for
scalding frost:
              but before the ladies started
investing in botox,
    and elsewhere apart from the lips,
before came lips like
early flower buds teasing a comparison
to Violeta, and the violoncello...
          vigour and violence...
    sophia loren and nature playing
with dice...
       sack of pears each side,
cider on the left, poached with cream
on the other fused with cinnamon
and cloves...
       and a pair of lips,
    like poststamps and sealed envelopes...
before nature was robbed of
throwing dice...
           gambling and sieving and
all manner of alchemical fabric...
whether chicken prior
   to the egg or vice versa...
   the lips of sophia loren
came prior to the genenric:
   industrialisation of a plagiarised
beauty...
                bad expriment,
or simply bored...
                   stash of doodled ideas
and sketches -
   sie ist ein modell und sie sieht gut leer,
    genießergelage auf bandwürmer
    und champagne flöteglass sträusels
             on gestrig erbrechen...
   pardon mein schwabian,
     tiz noot too güt...
    ol Fritz didn't teach me well,
but I happen to notice...
   Italy, albeit fascist, enjoyed
a colourful revival under
the watchful eye of holywood...
a Roman holiday...
       huh... no wonder I'm teasing
roboboy and thinking:
surely the only complimentary
exponent of the third *****,
to compliment my reading of Heidegger,
must be a more, public, figure...
    ah... the biography of
Leni Reifenstalh is waiting...
once i finish the ****** affair of
a historical novel, and a lost tourist
who was supposed to have summoned
a quest for inspiration at Marienburg...
if we're looking for artefacts
from the third *****...
   who better stand as antonym of
Heidegger, if not Reifenstalh?        
as are we all, tourists of history...
    it could have been a fascination
with the Weimar Rep.,
                      or the Polish Peoples' Rep.,
but...
     history seems rather,
congested... and that hardly mentions
Jacob Ripplestone...
                          a fascination
as concise as it is consistent with:
in the days when journalist are thieves
of time, and kings, their marionettes:
part etiquete poodles,
      part lunatic patrons,
             part honing devices for
small town tourists...
                      and to think: the night
as yet, so young.
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2020
.i can't believe a man can be intelligent, or a woman can be beautiful... i believe the two enter a harmony, of just plain difficulty; if only carrying pebbles was as difficult as climbing a mountain.

the subjectivity / objectivity "muddle",
  or rather the proximity of words
sharing a "neat" contort similis...
                 how similar are these two
words
    to allow a space-time continuum?
   based upon a prefix
                      with the remaining
harmony of spelling...
                                   a "muddle" of
congregating upon the basis of:
                                   interjection...
       but i have to borrow from another
language the antithesis nouns
     and say... temat (subject)
                                 via rzecz (thing)...
              or if you prefer in german...
                       gegenstand... huh...
                gegen i.e. against:
                                        standing...
  ­        as if there's an immediacy to be
attached to turning an inanimate thing
into a verb that becomes res extensa...
radical dualism can't be met with
radical monism in the observation
of the autism of petted felines,
         or the honing "device" of hawks?
i appreciate that some writers
require their mundane narrative
  the use of a thesaurus...
       you can see it...
   the dull lines with the odd extremity
of a borrowed word
          plucked from a peacock's tail...
   what is the kantian
  categorical impetus?
         probably a study of grammar...
after all...
                there's a noun category,
and there's a verb category...
        and there's the adjective-
that compensates for sheering
                          or sharpening knives.
my... english and the surds:
                  (g)nome
                                ­          and (k)nives...
    i will never get over the fact
that it's a form-proximity *******
   (draw a square, and then a rhombus)
while excluding the
                    accent prefixes of
    -ject                                    -ject
       (sub-)                                      (ob-)...
it has to be a form of abstracted
claustrophobia being argued...
            am i wrong in stating that
current darwinism is much less biology,
and more zoology
    in terms of writing "a" history?
        i can compensate feeling good
about myself having decided:
     what's the difference between
marxism and darwinism?
        don't know: ask **** similis
who forgot the sapiens.
_________
was it ever going to be problem
for the anglo-saxons of h'american
to forget the anglo-saxon tropes
of england?

                   not really...

   i still try to forge a forget tactic...
if my grandparents were no alive
in Poland, right about now?
i like keeping the native tongue
out of principle, even if i do not have
anyone to speak it with,
i'm just gagging for the disintegration
period where i will not be able
to speak it to anyone,
but, rather, keep it for myself...

     like, how can i relate humor
to the anglo-saxons, "these days"?
one word...
               cabbages...
every walk into a house that
has the odour of cabbage,
being boilded?
                  cabbage...
well... if the irish are associated
with potatoes...
mind you... how do you arrive
at *****? fermenting potatoes...
cabbage, a great, quasi-english joke....
fantastic among the pakistanis!
coleslaw... hmm...
  maybe the french shouldn't
have invented their various creams...
or... why not experiment akin
to champagne...
with the turks using sauerkraut
in building up a doner kebab?!

is cabbage such an ugly veg
for the middle eastern camel jockeys?!
last time i learned...
  black cardamom stinks of
worse things than horse-****!
see me complain?
   miss guru boppy-woolie-oud?
           i agree. cabbage isn't,
spectacular...
meet me halfway...
    but if you haven't appreciated
sauerkraut... to cut through the fat
of lamb meat on a kebab?
  might as well drink camel / chimp ****
pretending it's a stale variant
of beer, or lemonade.

   a woman is never ugly, or beautiful...
she's only neglected...
an intelligent man?
     well...
               he's either having a discussion,
or, he isn't having one...
i hate this current year ******* of:
but it's my opinion!
       true... so why be so defensive,
as to not put it against
a dialectical scrutiny?
    sure... it's "your" opinion...
as much as it's your "opinion"...
but only when given up unto
a dialectic "investigation"...
oh, don't worry... this would never be,
this would never be a forensic-esque
investigation...
         after all, "your" opinions
do matter,
     but... you're scared,
you're scared that upon a dialectic
scrutiny, you would...
change your opinions,
or, worse! you would,
no longer, fathom a rhetorical
dynamic momentum,
to continue to spew your,
   "protected" status beliefs like some
******* orangutan!
that's the real fear... the fear of subjecting
your beliefs to a dialectic,
divorcing your beliefs from
a rhetorical momentum!
        what shallow fears:
in plain sight!

                           i love it!
under-interjection (sub-)
               over-interjection (ob-)...
           no one ever said subjectivity
was a negative connotation...
      of expression... after all...
what objective facts did either
Leucippus and Democritus possess?!
none! they leveraged themselves
upon a hunch, a subjectivity,
        a "superstition"...
      there could never be any
objective proof of atoms in their time...

objectivity works, once there are
demonstrable proofs,
   in that, objectivity works...
    as an orthodoxy...
            a defence "mechanism"...
       but subjectivity: being subjected
to the existence of atoms,
rather than, objecting, to the existence
of atoms...
    subjectivity is the vector **** pursuit
of exploration!
   how can objectivity find itself
superior, when, in the current, year,
it's merely a regurgitation stratum?
"objectively speaking":
what? regurgitating facts?
encyclopedic "knowledge"?
       trivia on t.v., pub quizes?!

               on a whim, with a hunch...
the atoms were prostulated...
   and there was no objective proof for their
existence!
objectivity is dogmatism...
        it's a Hoover Dam of realism...
but sure as **** it's not a *******
propeller!
                 *******'s worth of
                      the objectivity priesthood!

that's why i'm not a champion of objectivity,
or a fan, with that regard...
            as much as thinking
is caged by objects and object to object
interaction...
   what a desert of a reality...
             how much can be gained
from feeling...
to finally endeavour oneself with
the capacity of the heart,
           since: given the so pre-occupied
state of the mind...
bound to the pickle-jar of tsar peter the great...
like some abnormal abortion
bound to the confines of the Kunstkamera.

you know who i hate the most?
science fans...
   no, not science fiction fans...
science fans... people who never had
to labour through organic chemistry
electron migration diagrams...
             i hate these people...
                 without a passion...
just a bland disdain...
         objectivity this! objectivity that!
subjectivity is: X...
                 eh?! but subjectivity is also: Y!

**** it... (imaginary) bartender!
                               another whiskey!

— The End —