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Mateuš Conrad Aug 2018
.perhaps it's a good thing,
that i don't succumb to witty
rhyming poetry...
i hate rhyming poetry as much
as Bukowski hated disney...
Homer didn't rhyme...
  and all the better for it...
this rhyming fetish,
whereby, when you start
rhyming, succumbing to
some quasi orthodoxy?
   getting caged?
       better than rhyme...
   noticeable signs of impromptu,
and absolutely no, so
signs of editing...


      if god is dead in philosophical
discussions...
then rhyme is dead
in poetic composition...
    we, really don't need curriculum
poetics for GCSE students...
cages, entrapment,
   not bothering Stendhal from
the brink of a post-existentialist
despair sitting in
that other graveyard,
  the library shelf...
    and seriously?
    why Jane Austen on the 5 quid
banknote, and not Mary Shelley?

and there's a reason why i will
not make a single youtube video...
why?
       on a certain level of the popularity
stratum,
   it's become this,
  american nostalgia for high school,
the gossiping, the undermining,
the atypical Brutus confidant circle
of "content" creators...
   net-novellas -
   a bunch of people my age...
******* up to the tele-novella
       ergonomics that Polish grandmothers
watch, imported from Turkey...
or the English 1985 Eastenders
soap opera...
   ******* have to be different,
through and through,
drive on the "wrong" side of the road,
then they have to start calling
tele-novellas, soap-operas!

short attention span, sure sure...
no problem...
          do your ******* homework
during the week, watch the omnibus
on the weekend...

what's this one youtuber, who said
something about the advertisement blockers?
by the way...
   Samsung?
     all videos have been demonetized...
perhaps on the odd occasion
a vevo ad... but that's about it...

       advertisement blockers?
  seriously?
   are these people so ******* impatient
that they can't locate the mute button?!
i see an advert: MUTE...
   i think of something,
   to craft an anti-zombie
   pause, moment, anything...
    why block advertisement -
when you can merely mute it...
and listen to the vacuous sound
of celestial orbits?

        within a certain tier of content creators,
it's already the ****-smearing,
soap opera, back in a high school
playground "nostalgia"...
  sorry... not for me...
but thank you, for taking the effort,
to take a reed, dive into a lake,
and breath through it,
while remaining covert, hidden...

         again... numbers numbers numbers...
i'm still exercising a freedom of
"speech", but i rather prefer the
practice of writing, as the appropriate
res extensa of the vector origin
for this cascade, the res cogitans
as it were...

   and there really are only two forms
of nuanced language:
a study of philosophy,
   or the study of: law...
      but this youtube **** show...
   this: back in high school,
no revenge time...

                 i only tuned in for the music,
but then these youtubers started
propping up in the recommendation
list for the music i was listening to...

die krupps postscript suggestions
came up with x,
   wooden shjips came up with y...
lao che came up with z recommendations...

on a side note...
   ha ha!
    mark manson's book...
  the art of not giving a ****...
it mentions Bukowski...
  only read the sample...
        that he was a, loser...
and loser is specifically derogatory
term in American society...
to which i reply?
   and what the **** did
mark manson, actually win?
Bukowski at least won
a childhood where his father beat
him silly in the ******* bathroom...

you haven't exactly won anything,
mr. manson...
   if you didn't lose anything
to begin with;

and if you have?
   let's see the follow-up of
to your bestseller,
         of "not giving a ****";
but we won't, will we?
      - hardly brown-nosing,
the guy's dead,
1997... i have to keep
the integrity of the dead
on my bookshelf...
      
      who reads this
reverse masochism of the self-help
literature genre, anyway?
you can't even use these books
as a counter to a decent roll
of toilet paper!
   unless you want to scratch,
ahem, sorry, wipe your *** with
the pages, and start an **** bleeding!
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2017
testing! testing! hello! testing!

dipping my nugget in the bbq sauce
has begun,
i love it!
i've never had such an adrenaline
rush antidote, since watching ****
online, but, **** me,
i can hardly miss the opportunity,
and a lost expectation.

so i make a trolltube account -
just to leave a comment on a video
FBE, a video that puts children
against the oldies in the music scene,
i make prog rock recommendations,
implying: could at least
bridge a gap between classical music,
not that the kids have
to identify the bands,
but whether they *like
the music....

and hey presto! out pops a troll!
and it went like this:

me - king crimson, jethro tull, tool, slayer,
tom petty & the heartbreakers,
rage against the machine, pearl jam,
prince: prog rock for exploring classical
bridges in labyrinth making in these cranium
sponges... last time i heard, no marylin manson
music video can't match up to freaking
out people as much as listening to gong's
the flying teapot album.

troll no. 1 -
ur creating posers and u word it like an edgy
hipster ****.

well, **** me! isn't it christmas!

me (replying) - perhaps, but the litre of whiskey
i've just drank doesn't help either, nonetheless
i've been well informed that youtube is rife with trolls,
and i was begging myself to find a platform to craft
an antidote to my apathy; much obliged for proving
my insiders' as being right, i might actually
take to these adrenaline instalments as the alt.
to what will become the new-****; **** man,
you're giving me a hard-on! well done!

no wonder i don't post on you-tube,
i.e. troll-tube...
     i can't even argue the point of current
youtube stars being demonetized...
  i have no sympathy,
talk about a psychopathic / sociopathic
knack at making "friends"...
    by the way, this was my first comment
on the platform,
i like watching children react to music
i grew up with, just as much as i like:
kids covering tool's song 46 & 2...
  it almost feels paternal,
  patriarchal in the extreme:
but to the point: a learning canvas.
      
i hope you find a more accommodating
platform, where people are sincere,
and not ready to cognitively gut you...
it's so sad, it's a sadness that deserves the
weird happiness, of youtube videos being
demonetized... oddly enough...
if you simply can't ensure a freedom
is a cordiality, if you can't ensure you
retain the freedom, with a promise of
tact, & manners, why have it?

i just made one footnote in the history
of youtube, and already i'm getting
an adrenaline rush of pity mingling with
the wrath of adrenaline,
sad, isn't it, so why expect anything more,
or less?
  
   i wish pity upon these internet anonymous
boogers, but i hardly can contain my
contempt boiling over...
      it's just sad, how people forgot how
to spell, for starters,
and then it dawns upon me:
  a language that neglects its existence:
is a language worthy of foreigners to
speak it, with the natives:
fryin' buns & baycon fry ups -
  glut shoot their turds into the depths
of the brown sea of ceramic shorelines -
the more i see of this,
the less i feel obliged to care -
  naturally occurring patterns of "expertease",
with that sort of first encounter:
i too, feel obliged: to **** on the natives
like a psychotic seagull with diarrhoea.

the idea of being a father,
is as much deserving the distraught
or / what if?!
as of the thought of attaining fatherhood
watching these gremlins
listen to the music i grew up with,
and nevering attaining the role
of father;
then again i basque in the endless loss
of responsibility;
which is always a non-celebratory
"analogy"
of having served the god of continuum,
which never made it to posit of the god:
(of) stand-still;

nonetheless, it's nice to have experienced
the shittiness of youtube,
and not have moaned about the censorship
of what videos are on offer:
pretty much a load of *******...
    1st comment 1st answer and you
get shrek...
     shows you a lot about, this "freedom"
of speech that shtinks...
      oops... looks like this freedom,
is a freedom's worth of hell.
Chris May 2020
Keep me from public
Cover my face
Hide my words
Remove from the world
What little I left.

Scrub away the remains
And let me fade
into obscurity.
I'm like 99% sure HP is hiding my poems. When I look in notifications I don't see anything, but then I look at my poems and I see likes, favorites, comments, whatever. But HP isn't letting me know these things, and I'm pretty sure they're just hiding my poems. So that's pretty cool I guess. I just hope my account doesn't get deleted, but what can I do, eh?

(I saw "Chameleon's" poem about the same subject after I made this).
Kim Cancer Oct 2019
This is not a story. This is not literature.
This is a spit in the face.
A kick in the nuts. A punch in the ***.
A shooting spree,
of consonants and vowels, aimed at snowflakes.

This is to be loathed. This is to cause anger.
This is to be deleted, blocked, downvoted, canceled and hated.
Demonetized
by coding corpses in Silicon Valley

It is my hope a Twitter Mob forms,
curses my name, relegates me to Louis CK status.

This is my ***** and I take it out
a dark web palm reader for the snowflakes.
This is my ***** and I take it out
to **** on the face of all Boomers, Gen Xers
and especially the Millennials and Gen Z

You who have grown with smartphones akin to limbs,
priapic pineal glands, ophthalmic screens…

You who have “emotional support animals”
I hope your emotional support animal
mauls you to death like an Alaskan grizzly bear
and you ******* die like that execrable Australian crocodile ****

You who have “safe spaces”
I want to rig your safe spaces
with prepositions, adverbial pipe bombs
and laugh as they explode like an Ariana Grande concert

Yes, YOU, you snowflakes…

You who have transformed young America
into a coddled wasteland
of mock outrage, moaning prudes

You who subscribe to video game streams on YouTube
You who pay punk *** PewDiePie his millions
while the greatest living poet in America works as a janitor!

You who fight over bathrooms
You who bastardize legitimate arguments,
shame those who marched
shame those who righteously died

You who vote Republican and Democrat
You who watch CNN, MSNBC, and Fox News
You who wish to silence creators
You who are triggered
You who can’t take a joke
You who can’t fathom opposing views
You who Yelp, write online reviews
in braille
You who protest Sarah Silverman and Dave Chappelle

You, you snowflakes: I want to reach into your toilets
to smear myself in your ****
and kick at your ***** and ***** as you whine online about my blackface

I want to punch your nose
paint myself in your blood and attack your colleges
with wadded up copies of The Naked Lunch and Tropic of Cancer

I want to hack Spotify
replace every playlist with Public Enemy on a continuous loop
and blast 2 Live Crew
from loudspeakers down every boulevard in Northern California

I want to hog-tie conservatives, make them watch gay ****
I want to hog-tie liberals, make them watch monster truck rallies

Because your phone can block
Your phone can delete
But energy cannot be destroyed

And ART, speech, thought
Are the purest form of energy
The very flesh of emotion…

Currency both malefic and supernal!

And now, snowflakes
now I tie your noose
I grind my knife to your throat
I aim my AK at your temples
Just to tell you this:

Sticks and stones can break my bones
But words will always nourish me…

Let there be commerce!
For the snowflakes...

— The End —