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Chris Slade May 2019
The Avro Vulcan, a majestic big old iron bird, sublime,
was to do a flyby for just one memorable last time.
Maybe with a jet fighter or a Spitfire on each wing, who knew?…
Unthinkable to miss it… almost a crime.
Thousands turned up every year, always a great day out -
but this year would be special, there'd be no doubt.
The last flight of such a legendary plane made it essential…
So, after the flyers’ break for lunch, the crowd filled out.

The entry fee to occupy the field was heinous. 25 quid!
That was for adults - and a fiver for each kid.
So, many more than those that paid, sat happily outside pubs.
Others found shelter in the perimeter’s trees and... kinda hid.
Now, to see a Vulcan fly anytime, anywhere, was magic…
She was a Leviathan of the Cold War,
that held players in the planet’s power games in awe.
And this would be her last time doing the rounds on the air show circuit -
Seeing this locally was hard to ignore.

Mark (a nephew) was a window cleaner by trade.
A regular, down to earth, happy go lucky guy.
…Saturday comes and the kids all voted "McDonalds"…
“A Happy Meal!” they’d cry.
He said that was fine - they’d all go after he’d nipped over
to the airshow to watch the Vulcan fly.
No idea whatsoever, of course, that just by going to Shoreham
just 5 miles away, for half an hour or so… that he might die.

He told his fiancé he’d only be an hour or so…
be back in time to take the kids for a burger and, "NO!"...
He wouldn’t stay. He was the only one in the family
who was bothered anyway…so he wouldn’t ****** up their day.
So, in haste, because apparently Chicken Nuggets & Fries
was much better for the kids than a load of old planes,
he cranked the best out of his bike along the 27 and,
once at the lights by the Sussex Pad,
he pulled over to the kerb to watch from the bushes.
Good view? Well not bad!

Andy Hill was a flyer of many years. His weekday job,
flying for BA.Taking holiday makers, business folk, transatlantic in Seven Four Sevens...
A flight deck maestro, soaring up, just under the heavens.
He’d done Shoreham loads of times… it was exciting, exhilarating... almost sport, his game!
He was off the hook,  became an ace. It gave him that 15 minutes of fame!
Free to thrill - a hero! Standing out from the crowd with every daring step. His aim!

He wasn’t just a petrol head… this bloke had aviation fuel in his blood.
Adrenalin on tick-over. Nought to 60 in 2.7 seconds with 22,000 Horsepower under the hood.
He left Epping full of fuel, just 90 miles away, so in two ticks he was with us, fully loaded and, the weather? It was good.
First up after lunch at half past one… he streaked across the crowded field.
Over and out and up, up, up… Little did the spectators know that Andy had forgotten he was flying a Hunter…
He thought it was last year’s aborted routine in a Jet Provost… The one they'd stopped part way through being, too risky.

"He’s not gonna make it… I can’t look!" There was a hush… a nanosecond’s silence and then the rush,
the whoomph that said it all… that hush! The ground shook!
And the eleven - plus others injured - went up in Andy Hill’s very own fireball!
No, of course, Mark wasn’t the only one to die that day.
Ten other ‘innocents’ left us in pretty much the same way…
Maurice, Dylan, Tony, Matthew, Matt, Graham, Mark R, Daniele, Richard & Jacob.
Mark T, our Mark, had the distinction of having two funerals, not just the one…
More remains were discovered, analysed and found to be his!
Even after he’d…already well... ‘gone’.

The injustice that eleven spectators or just passers by should die
when the survivor, the off target driver, who sped too low from the sky, should, after a suitable pause in this ghoulish game, be exonerated and not take any blame.
Well it’s all sort of things… It's ridiculous, pathetic, obtuse, a joke… who do they think we are?

But the great and the good deliberated, scratched their heads and worked hard to make everything look ’right’…
Tolerance for the bereaved to grieve, platitudes, condescending attitudes, a memorial service.
Thanks - genuinely - to the emergency services… Not just a little buck-passing… But the public often judged them. Arsing about - to cover their corporate backside.
They can’t insult me (or us)… intelligent people have tried…

Andy Hill was judged to be not guilty of 11 counts of manslaughter by gross negligence.
But he claimed he blacked out in the air, having experienced ‘cognitive impairment’ brought on by hypoxia … possibly due to the effects of G-force…. Of course!
The 11 were either hit by the plane or roasted in a fireball caused when the jet flew too low and too slow. But if it wasn’t Andy’s fault then whose was it?

Surely this can’t be the end of this travesty of justice!!

BUT, there IS a new memorial to the dead. And, trust this...it’s a good one too…  The best that money can buy - and that anyone can do.

But there's is also a very bitter taste, still today…
that somehow... just won’t go away!
This is a bit of a saga... But I think it's worth it...On August 22nd 2015 there was a disaster at Shoreham Air Show, West Sussex... on the south coast of England and eleven people died. A loop the loop, too low and too slow. The pilot lived and recovered from his injuries and was found not guilty of eleven counts of manslaughter by gross negligence.
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2021
beginning with a title... the transcendent bicycle...
because it really is just that...
if you have walked as much as i have:
a marathon from Romford
to St. Paul's and back...
a marathon from Romford to Epping
and back...
       i don't know but i do know that
i might have been aiming for: flesh of my flesh...
aged 34... but i'm still "trapped" inside
the dimension of the bicycle like
i'm ******* quicksilver / the flash...
i haven't ridden a bicycle in well over a decade...
today i found out i have ghost muscles...
the bicycle became the antithesis of
prosthetic limbs...
   it's hardly a Descartes contemplating
a desk and / or van Gogh's chair...
beauty in pickling... depths of thought in:
picking, juices...
how a second birth happens with
the advent of thought...
when... penetrating inanimate things...
to think about objects is to...
become more objective?
         it's not like i'll summon...
a Freudian complex...
using a bicycle... as a Deleuze
did when ushering in the bicycle from
a Beckett's perspective...
  beside the "village bicycle" i hardly
want to give sway to some ******* metaphor...

the bicycle is more than a chair
a chair is such a fermentation process
since you can sit on it...
but can hardly concern yourself
with making a ******* gallop on it...
but a bicycle is not a horse...
but a bicycle is not a horse...
writes the man that...
yes... i have ridden horses...
all the equestrian clubs in Essex can shy away
from the detail of...
i have allowed myself to ride a horse
to a gallop... neck, sore... entangled in:
want of massage... yes...
but a bicycle is not a horse!
it's a dog... at best... it goes where you want
it to go...
the leash of gears the muzzle of the breaks...

the **** i need a car for?
in London... even if it's outskirts /
kilt Loon'don?
     ha ha FARKER TARTAN WILLIAMSSON...
blah!
enriched with hidden energies of
newly discovered... otherwise plainly
shelved sensations of motion...
there's nothing new about a bicycle...
said the man who withheld a smirk
when attesting...
a gap... the same centre of gravity... though...
almost like the buoyancy arrived at
when swimming...

oh how my father tried to teach me...
how peer pressure taught me instead...
it's this exasperating O oh and ah...
that's not really becoming of adding any more
detail to a rekindled love for life...

notably concerning England...
and outer-suburbia...
- when you have been walking these
labyrinth streets for months...
to be suddenly injected with
a very new, but at the same time:
a very old concept... dimension: which sharpens
the genesis of thinking about the sentence...
a new dimension of... speed...
time, space are their own affairs...
invoked for a day by a day...
walking is merely movement...
cycling? that's not merely movement...
that's...             speed...
because... there's a whole chi focus
of X yes precisely X...
        only half an hour's worth of cycling
and i covered the whole peninsula of the area...
unbelievable the detail of acquiring
traffic coordination...
a shared responsibility that a mere
pedestrian might take for granted...
      
tomorrow's a Sunday and i'm supposing
come circa 7am the
traffic should be "slim"...
having tested the breaks and the gears
somewhat proper...

bicycle bicycle... where have you been
all my past decade...
bicycle: grandfather Joseph...
death toll murk... fill the bells!
let them not resound in the night
while i reclaim the wind for my own...

- that i sometimes drift in and out
of solipsism...
yes... that solipsism is
laboratory minded experimentation
with states of autism...
but you're given the excuse
of riding a bicycle...

i wonder what wings might feel like....
a bicycle is not a horse...
a bicycle is more or less a dog...
it's certainly not a cat... meow...
if there was an advent of wind to harness...
but there's me... merely pulverising forward...
the leash the muzzle
all that's frame and the breaks:
downhill...

the lullaby of emotions intrinsic in:
blocking all rancid thinking... all thinking
like so...
Zen by ***... it's not that i know more...
i know... different... but first you have to walk
said distances... before loopholes...
wormholes appear gesticulating the mind
with a provided for, otherwise...

i'm 34 and i feel like i've just...
accomplished more than
having shed feather of my virginity...
never make me feel so entrusting...
never make me feel so demanding "x"...
peddle ******* peddle...
tread-water.... in your pyjamas...
i do remember, like an elephant's cranium
might... details of a historical tattoo...

philosophy books are...
paupers of metaphor...
language is ever hardly elevated into
a bouquet...
i don't want to be in love again...
i don't want to be such an...
undemanding... lack of ambition...
lack of sacrifice...

take me into the woods
and shoot me in the back of the head...
but before you do...
i'll merely ask...
take me into the sort of woods
where the deed be done...
but appreciate walking me so far
off the well trodden path
that you might not remember
how to retrieve a safe-footing back...
take me into the woods of no known
horizon...

guarded by a strict wall of a mile of trees
that block out the otherwise pleasant
azure of the sky come hiding the sun
at sunset... or sunrise...
in that zenith of immobile grey
between the hours of commotion
when nothing is to be salvaged as one's
own... but... abhorred as it too must be...
somehow... shared...

some privy in on England... a land
of fertile imaginings...
when Descartes had his table, and chair...
to fist & fester on...
i'll lay clamour to the debris of alt...

yes: an overbearing load of sensation:
delusional.. let's put him in his "right"
place... let him believe the sole provided
the psychiatric source of angst
no purpose = no posit of transcendence...
no bicycle...
   custard... pie-load...
angst...
               jerking off from "excess" libido...
well... exercise the "excesses" of libido elsewhere...
exert well squid parallels
and more: firm grasp... "tentacles"...
see the same within the confines
of an "elsewhere"...

how ***** i became being so...
muscular abiding... simultaneously... docile... too...
it's not a Lamborghini it's not
a British T... triumph motorcycle...
it's a peddling ingenuity of
somewhat self-origin...

i could have eaten up a Solomon's share
of ****** and *******
that same of wisdom...
should i, could i, would i have
demanded less than was already left available
from the Tetragrammaton...

how did "we" ever learn to laugh...
how was HA... the hebrew definite article spawned
those biggest,
no... those grieving questions...
how a monotheistic deity might be all
good... yet somehow not all powerful...
yet all powerful but not all good...
bling alley... cul-de-sac view:

the algebra not solved: attempted by
numbers...
letters later sieved...
and more letters sieved...
played the party pooper with membrane knowledge
of katakana and Hangul...
because... Latin script does slip...

chi-focus?
the multiplication ascend of:
what was walked prior...
can now be cycled... shortened because no
"lost" time was ever to be grieved...
although... the front suspension is...
an unwelcome addition...
ha ha... privy me on details
like... excesses that are there...
21 gears and when there was a rigid frame
throughout and rising up from
a sitting position is not necessary...

no... i'm not gearing up for motorcycles...
i like the idea...
but also... subsequently... the experience...
of a double-decker... bus...
of a bus of being the transit mahjong skeleton...
pieces... mein alles!

mein alles!             gott, mit... uns!

yes... unbelievable... the demands for yachts...
for ******... diminished into a fizzle....
when a Beijing demand for bicycles
skyrocketed... and all that was left to salvage
was... promises of a Sunday,
circa 7am...

hidden gems of plied-play-dough-esque:
sort of truths...
sort of beefing up... doubting pork...
within the confines of chops...
between me and a prisoner...
between me an a prisoner...
it's hardly the yacht...
the hardly any nuance of bother...
believe the existence of hierarchy...
because the Bolsheviks didn't
come about the first time around...
second try...
escape the English cwown they said...
escape the litany of squares
they-void-thought... "said"...
herr omar bin sa-id...
conquest of the Hey-Brews... "said"...

don't undermine the intricate
tribal workings of...
half-possessed...
half truant... thereby almost totally... true...
associates of Casimir the Great...
there be a god of wisdom
and there be a god of fire...
there be a god of letters...
if so...

the same god will be inclined
to mind...
an apostrophe as much as a surd (letter)
in Ęgli-sh...
when not minding... "it"..
lay an Ę to the side to wreck havoc with...
ha ha!    Щ...

  Ę / Щ... the **** are you looking
at me... like i were the one
who killed your mother with a *******
harmonica / what have these galoshes to do with
"these" galoshes...
what has this pumpernickel to do with
this windmill... "this" is an obstruction...
the proverb states...
what has a pumpernickel to do with
a windmill?

exactly... ****-all!

two-riddle *******' worth... worth of...
newly ******* jargon... and crust of...
for the load that might be minded
invigorating life... as life in prospect...
re-orientating man toward the clamour
of detailing sky...
not on foot...
not on horse...
not via car... will you...
to hell with running down...
a stampede of perspective...

planet... luancy? is that where we are all,
from?
i am born of madness...
i am this salty precursor of i think...
clearly i first arrived...
later... i somehow managed to "think"...
i didn't think first
but i certainly didn't either:
i think therefore i am therefore i think...

i was more on the lines of...
from the lineage of:
trouble...
i am therefore i think therefore i am...
i am not a spider i'm not all emptying and detailing
the filling of gob-***** with
i am hungry i am vector...
i am therefore i think therefore i am...
but this... ****** of french...
premature *******....
of i think therefore i am... therefore i think:

honestly? thinking is sometimes not...
necessary...
sometimes water needs no... glue, metaphor...

Amsterdam's open mouth darkseid
apocalypse abode...
le trio joubran - masar.... a finite quest...
primo.... detailing conquest...
handling crux....

            the cat's in the riddle...
the yard is in a mile...
scrutiny of the Levant...
           leverage of hark... -ing
denote: closure... of "ambition":
this lesser "king"...
brow of the most dignified...

                   keeping with allowance
(an)
  justly, met...
  
give me wind:
   give me... air...
not... hair... i laugh... i laugh too little...
i chisel my teeth...
i scream: nothing primo!
my life but q.
there are more lived importances
that matter, thus...
cradle... diamonds...

"the end".
The colours grab hold of me,
like someone once told me,
and they sink into my being,
seeing Autumn
I fall
into the wonder of it all,
and I melt in the hues,
mixing
reds,greens and browns into blues on
the cold,
stiffening ground.

I am seasoned in this and linger
each year,
a little longer, to kiss the
air that drips with
foreboding,
Winter is loading its gun with ice bullets that fly
and I,
the target,
forget it all
in the wonderful being of being in the fall.
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2017
most nations are divided by
either the south vs. the north,
or the east vs. the west,
well... some, not all,
there's no clear indication that
there's a true indicator -

in the case of england though?
well... you
have the emergence of
a "demographic" slang,
and apology for a lack of a better
word,
but i already indicated
this to be a misnomer,
meaning?
               third-parties,
i was never into coining a phrase,
so i took the lazy route,
and unquoted ("     "   vs. '        ' -
hence the inverted commas)
what would sediment into a fluid
pretense for rhetoric...
sure, the picts know
that glasgow is poor, while edinburgh
is rich...
   but that's an anomaly
of the rules...
       most of the underground
services are bound to the earth-worms
of north london...
  south london barely touches
on the convenience of underground
services...
               the underground
stretch of influence goes as far
as brixton (victoria line) -
   and morden / mordor (northern line) -
   **** me! on the north end, we're going back
as far as epping! farmland!
croydon? croydon?! talk about
                heathrow for ****'s sake!
   what the **** happens in west ruslip?
so kilburn is not a mini-havana / kingston
a jamie-jammin-chicken-****-fetish?
marble arch through to edgware
not a niqab "cat walk"?
             i knew i'd loose my compass
when strutting in london...
              homerton, hackney whick,
stratford...
           oh **** me, you go beyond
   hainault....
can you believe they still have
a video rental shop (blockbusters) just
outside of woodford station?!
               cities within a city,
like all modern micro-states of
frowned upon nation-states are:
   london? a city-state...
                           it's not a nation-state,
that 19th century: uh-hum...
                       ya ya...
                          i'm living within
an ancient-greek tickle of a city-state...
i'm living on the membrane,
i'm at the gates
  of the barrier between
   a city-state, and a nation-state...

newcastle, liverpool, manchester are
not actually considered to be
city-states...
           they're national-disconcertives...
   birmingham? ha ha!
           is it either? is it not the lahore
of the north-west?

mind you, me drinking an ale from
newcastle, walking in essex,
the "demographic" slang springs to mind...

i'm a southern fairy... drinking a
northern monkey's brew...
         ain't that a cause for rhyme?
i'm ******* sure it it:
what thrill in crafting art,
   within the confines of a mind
that knows no ill,
               for what of art,
if there be no ill of mind -
         to craft the thrills of true art?
is not art the craft that
          encourages control
over a decomposition, into the vigour
of ferment,
  like wine, like cheese,
                    so too...
   a florentine gallery...
    god: by a tarantula's bite, immobilißed
in the uffizi: mouth agape, pretending
to yawn.

ah yes... a reminder:
with a northern ale in the southern lands
of england...
   ******* southern fairies...
      bollocking northern monkeys.
'I wandered lonely' not so proud
through crowds of hams and spambots crammed into my feed,

Dear Wordsworth, did you really need the nuts and bolts and faults of man to plan your poetry?
could you not see those daffodils have filled my day,why not sway down Epping way and look at trees,look at the wood?
I wish only, that you should give up those flaming daffodils for good,they make me sick,
please pick on some altogether different topics
preferably out in the tropics.

your humble servant,
quite indifferent
j.
Brian Mangels Jan 2018
I’m here to capture birds!
Exclaimed the hiker in the back
We’d made the call to pick him up
Along our dusty track

He spoke at quite a volume
And his statement had me fear
Just what kind of character
Was riding with us here

And it was with due concern
We were alone it did occur
As upon our exploration
Of the great outback it were

What does he do with birds?
I thought to myself and friend
By her glance I saw that she’d
Considered the same end

Perhaps he’s meaning humans
When he speaks to us of birds
Playing time to make a strike
Misleading with his words

We best get to the bottom
I don’t like the sound of this
And who the hell captures birds?
There is something here amiss

Tell us more dear hiker
For we don’t understand
Do you mean your taking photos
Of birds in this great land?

Again he answers loudly
Cameras are no match
Birds don’t sit still, so with his eyes
He considers it a catch

Things become much clearer
And I feel somewhat a fool
He’s just an honest birdwatcher
Doing it old school

And he’s from a foreign country
Dutch I hazard the guess
Are you from the Netherlands?
He replies a booming yes!

The man has quite the passion
He’s travelled very far
Just for our birds, first by plane
And lately in our car

But we are in the outback
What on earth brought you here?
Twas by the train with a few stops
For rare birds that I could peer

This hiker most impressive
Tell us more of what you’ve seen
Speak of rare birds you’ve captured
And places that you’ve been

I have been to Epping!
Loud and proud he is again
I stayed with a friend
And caught your fairy wren

I have been to Capertee
And nothing could be sweeter
Than spotting a rare endangered
Regent Honeyeater

I’ve been to Lake Menindee
Full it’s quite the site to see
But pretty rainbow bee eaters
Are what appealed to me

Outside of Broken Hill we were
When our paths converged
We to spot rare flowers
Him to capture birds

We reached his sanctuary
And dropped him at the gate
Sorry that we couldn’t join
The day was getting late

We made for sculptured sunset
He waved grateful, on his own
As we drove off, we wondered
How the hell would he get home?
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2021
buying a Trek Marlin 5 for around £500...
really has given me a new lease
on life...

prior to i was walking 6 to 7 hour marathons:
i walked to Epping...
i walked to Coldharbour to inspect the Thames...
i walked to St. Paul's...
then... on one of these walks...
i eased out a yawn: it was time to speed up...

i thought: perhaps a dog would help...
a girlfriend...
of the 3 Ps... priests, psychiatrists...
prostitutes: an hour with one, properly:
can fill years worth of... an absence of...
urges...

the body can do all the talking:
it's best when the body does all the talking...
i never bought into confessions:
alas... this is probably a confession...
or that psychiatric *******: C.B.T. or whatever
they call it: talk-therapy...

drinking less ms. amber having switched
to wine: well... the digestion is more fluid...
i've emptied myself three times today
to the point where my guts ache from...
having ******* out: what i can only assume
to be... 1 kilogram of ****... or a forearm's length
of it...

emptied to the point where it sort of aches...
thank god for the transparency with
prostitutes... last time i checked i was there
to pay for something beside conversation:
or lies...
               always the two extremes:
an honest ******* and a...
                  boasting thief: thieves always boast...
they're not timid murderers...
all that Robin Hood fancy gets them going...
i talked to this one in particular
on the day i buried my grandfather...
we talked about Paris...
poor fellow: he asked me if he could stand
on a step above me so he could
look me in the eye: well: i obliged...
i wasn't going to tower over him...

   all in all: a nice conversation...
the stories he had from prison...
what the Russians get up to in the 4 x 4
while punching walls... i injecting...
plastic? seems odd: into their knuckle region
to punch better...
i once took up some sort of martial art...
all i can remember is being trained to squat...
in a position akin to horse-riding...
the Sensei wasn't there one session
(Golders Green)
and his students took over...
we were instructed to march forward and
strike while making a lot of sound...
the student of the Sensei isolated me:
i said: i will not ooh! ah! i will not marry my
breath to an attack...

kick in the *****... me lying in a foetal position...
that's me and learning martial arts...
if i was going to learn martial arts by getting
kicked in the *******...
i was going to learn something: else...
accommodating people from all walks of life
with a conversation...
oddly enough: of the encounters i had in
the night when all the shady suspects should
be about...
one problem... this little ****** took advantage
of me willing to have a drink with him...
took me via an alley and grabbed
a phone from my hand...

oddly enough: i didn't fight him...
i shouted at him...
the seven heavens reigned down with fire
when i implored him to:
'LOOK AT YOUR GUARDIAN ANGEL!
LOOK!'
  i shouted down the confrontation...
when scuttled off lamenting about...
down on my knees in the middle of Brick Lane
lamenting on / with the word: All-Ah...
Al-Lah...
                say what you may... certain gods have
names for certain moments...
his is a name when you just
grieve having to show yourself what anger can
be hiding in you...

but rather than fight: tenderness of the hands...
moving my hand against a brick wall
to later invest in a body...
all that mandible leather plush...
i still go crazy: not too often but when i go crazy
i... pretend to not be thinking about
foods that are eaten raw...
notably the Baltic sushi of herrings...
a steak Tartar... chunky...
with all the additions... raw onions...
kippers... gherkins... Worchester sauce...
pepper, salt... a raw egg yoke...
a dash of garlic...
    and a fat slice of sourdough...

but a bicycle is a new lease on life...
esp. at night: when the air is thinner...
and you can hear a church-bell ring from
almost a mile afar...
or... the sound of trains as if a stampede of horse
from: i'd imagine over 2 miles...

i could never own a car...
i once fancied myself owning a motorbike...
i'll stick to the object that allows me
to generate my own momentum...
what bonus?!
hell... no road-tax... no insurance...
i haven't even bothered with a safety-helmet
and most certainly not any lycra...

a bicycle allows you all the momentum
that a bus stuck in traffic might allow:
and more than a car... esp. since i've taken
a liking to cycling into central London...
several times now...
once upon a time it was this spectacular
gesture awe to take the bus and later
the tube and emerge at certain locations
in the city: Piccadilly Circus / Westminster
of note...

but starting off from the outskirts... teasing
the M25... and cycling into the city...
via little Bangladesh of Ilford... Manor Park...
Forrest Gate... little Jamaica of Stratford...
through to the Mecca of Bow...
and whatever the hell it is come Mile End...
reaching the pearly gates of Bank
and further past St. Paul's into Holborn...
past Hyde Park onto Notting Hill Gate...
eh... it's not that... spectacular...
i would probably have to attire myself
in window-shopping clothes...
in pedestrian attire...
    perfume myself and work a chisel of
wax on my hair... probably carry a book
to keep me company during transit...
but on a bicycle:
it's not at all... spectacular...
buildings with no entry labels...
buildings like labyrinth walls...
                 that's about it...
oh... and the people...
                         i like to throng-spot from
time to time...

bicycle: no M.O.T.: no insurance...
no road tax...
the thrill of using a bullet of momentum while riding
behind an object that might **** you...
that's fun...

prostitutes? oddly enough: Isabella...
a third year exchange student from Grenoble...
the story behind my lost virginity...
but the current hook-up culture...
however freely them come and go...
you might be paying for dinner...
covert payments... you'll be arguing for something
else...
talk and more talk...
odd... well... not really:
i was never really truly on a date...
well... this one time a girl picked me up
from a nightclub...
we went to the park...
i drank a bottle of wine...
we talked about grey-matter of our
everyday...
we went into a pub...
i drank a pint of holy grail Guinness...
she escaped with a follow-up of some
previous engagement...
god... i was glad...

the transparency with prostitutes is:
paramount...
i don't like the current culture of ***...
only-fans... and once in a while you find this...
angry... mean... toxic female...
posting *******'s worth of arousal
stating outright: pay up simps...
she isn't even roleplaying a ******* suite either...
she's just plain Jane with a strap-on
of her forehead...

whatever this famous ****** revolution
was to bring to the table from the 1960s...
should it bother me that some percentage of men
are having all the...
   "fun"... personally i wouldn't want
the baggage, the lies...
the covert methods of "bagging" one...
payment upfront for the body to speak:
for the hands to wander...
sure: i once paid for *******:
i paid for a *****-magazine and the seller
saw my face...
the good old days where you had to ****
up on any worth of... ha ha... "pride"...

since i last encountered Khada(ia)
she was bothered by an excess of hairs on my shaft:
i too noticed it... i'm not exactly going
to shave my *****... i'll trim my *****...
sure... i've taken up a liking for...
***** hairs... an oasis of familiarity...
in the form of Ava Dalush...
hell: a completely shaven crop down below:
is a bit like looking at a skinhead...
just enough wheat-shafts to: furrow...
a bit like *******: it should be there...
i can pull it back during penetrative ***...
but... it's also there so i can *******...
oddly enough...
***** hair is designated on a woman:
since... imagine all the bearded ladies...
should the ****** hairs undermine the surprise
of what's down south...

hell: this *** culture *****...
i went among the prostitutes because:
i, simply... don't... want... to... play...
this... bogus... game! of herr Lancelot!
all men are liars are women are ******
and all dogs are ******* peddle-stools!
cats are insomniacs: if you gather my humour...
this current *** culture *****:
triple ***... triple the trembling donkey's
*******: life is not supposed to be fun:
at best: there's some pleasure in thinking...
once all the moral conundrum of ought-i:
ought-i-not have been laid to rest...

how glad to come across:
paid up-front... clearly a debit experience...
harsh to make a summary of:
someone else calling it a "livestock" affair...
i tend to think of leather...
i tend to forget my tongue...
the hands that belong to hands...
the lips that belong to lips...
the thighs that belong to thighs...
the eyes that belong to eyes...
i tend to explore the fingers and the jaw...
all that's mandible...
not wholly exhausted upon the requirements
of taking a ****...

not enough chances to love women:
then again: plenty...
but i will not grow old and boring
and stiff and stuffy and watch television with her...
waiting for the ******* inevitable!
Lothar! aye... call on Conrad! & Otto while
you're at it... we're planning an escape!
i've seen what old age does to men...
women might enjoy it...
hell: they live beyond the age of men...
i'm not going to bother...
i will not hear wisdom from the old croakers
either... smothered by dementia and what not...
when my time is on the table:
i'll do what i'm reserved to do...
old age suffocates...
not that people shouldn't aspire to having
reach it:
but it's hardly possible for most to still be
an inquisitive Socrates come his age...
childish comforts...
marry me unto death and let us part
in good spirits...

this current culture of *** *****...
i don't want to be part of it:
i'll debit my affairs / pay upfront...
for what i'm willing to pay for:
kosher ***... nothing boredom related:
no need for gimp latex suits...
threesomes... ******...
stilettos / strap-on ******...
just give me the kosher salt
and i'll rummage into otherwise hidden
subject matters for the better half of a decade...

how could i think of prostitutes as lesser creatures?
what am... that ******* Jack the Ripper
moralist?
i'm not Jack the Ripper the moralist...
i pay for the eyes to see
i pay for the hands to touch...
i'm not paying for *******:
i'm paying for a 1st person "seance":
yes... we'll be making contact with the dead
who are living... those untouched ******* harangues...
misnomer:  harangues...
i over-stepped the marker...

dilute the blood among the ol' raven hair women
of Turkic persuasion...
god help her: and her fairground of joys...
i don't want to be part of it...
i don't want to be there to pick up the crumbs,
either...
***** didn't give: now there's nothing to lap up...
beside... oh wait...
i don't own a car: i own a bicycle...
i don't want to be tempted into making as much
money as might be required to:
sustain her spending habits... and... whims...
that must make me... an almost: free man...

i guess i'll have to concentrate on...
limiting as much suffering as possible...
i'll have no chance concerning toothaches:
they'll always come and go...
but i suspect that... any...
attack on the soft organs is... rather: painless...
you never hear the truth of people with
terminal illnesses...
concerning the soft organs...
that have a limited nerve presence...
oh... but anything afflicting the bones:
i'll believe that to be ****** painful...

- ah... the interlude: a **** break and some
ice in the glass...
the joy of getting drunk slow: "drunk":
gearing up to a proper momentum of scribbles...
getting drunk slow: wine... beer...
it usually takes me 2 bottles of the former
to have some sort of: IN-SPI-RA-TION...
(impossible to rewrite our syllables
into katana... however much i like:
i draw blanks... still looks pretty...
i will have nothing to do with Ezra Pound's
fetish for Chinese ideograms...
they end up being primitive sounds
of vowel, consonant, vowel-consonant...
consonant-consonant-vowel structures anyway)...
of course there is... a slow way of getting drunk...
wine beer... and a fast way of getting drunk:
ms. amber... although i've become rather
immune to her flirting...
stone cold sober with her during the night:
stinking of dog **** the next morning...

refresh my mind...
Khada(ia) made a complaint last time she was
performing ******* on me...
hairs where there should be hairs:
on the shaft... i'm not going to shave my *******:
but i also don't expect her to **** them...
well... no other cure...
i'll need to get a *******...
i got a ******* and started to pluck out
the excess hair...
i was waiting for mr. limp to come along...
he came... and went...
and i was back to plucking out the excess hairs...

in the current climate?
the current culture... it's hardly reading marquis de sade
on the tube... although the one time i did
i had 4 teenage girls giggling
because the cover had a oil on canvas depiction
of a ****...
they giggled... while the words contained...
well... what is it that marquis de sade didn't write about?
to hell with marriage and with thirsting for
what the French cosmopolitans are accustomed
to with affairs...

this one chimpanzee laboured to prove
the existence of dragons...
dragons prior to the unearthing of dinosaur bones...
massive fire breathing lizards:
the great meteor cull...
this one chimpanzee with aspirations to find
something noble: like widowhood...
to escape the monkey harem / ****...
to find the widowhood and nobility among swans...
now... that's a thought...

upsetting confiscations of libido while
a certain number of would-be van Goghs do
one more.. d.n.a. genocide simulation into
a tissue... why wouldn't we somehow
abandon pop; and take a steer
at... say... something akin to:

         chevalier, mult estes guariz...
for tbe river of blood that is not supposed
to run through Yerushalem...
diviner of the old gods: Balaam!
  one word stands out though:
*****... in western Slavic...
"oddly" enough i can write it in katakana:

SU-KA...              スカ...
oh... look... no hyphen for the worth
of a compounded wording...
i can't find escape in Chinese hieroglyphs...
Japanese syllables can only stretch to far..
Korean? perhaps... i'll hardly inquire into
the Semitic scripts of either
Hebrews or Ar-Rabs...

this current *** culture is... bothersome:
i like to pay for reality: otherwise i go into
the forest and bend a deaf ear:
how eagerly i still watch how women
are pleasured...
it bothers me in the slightest:
during ***: 1st person...
you're never allowed the whole
3rd person pornographic availability of
experience... so you're missing the ***
resembling a Lamborghini... no?

but better with a ***** than these...
angry: newly invested in freedom
sort of broodings over...
these "livestock": oh sure...
the sort of freedom these "free" girls will allow...
no... i'm not buying into a farce...

because simply can't tell a journalist to
*******: secular priest: hand on... linger...
while the advertisers say all the things i want
to hear: since i don't have the money to spend:
i.e. a woman...
sad little affair this society has become....

SUKA! スカ!
dearest: Kinga...i seem to have picked up a case
of an... itchy nose...
i rub it again: and again:
between AGNI PARTHENE...
and what the Templars have on "choice"...

Salve Regina:
   consecrated upon the altar of womanhood...
this stiffening via the niqab:
versus al the freedoms that the setting sun
might also: allow...
bellowing rams...
                oh how i might love....
always the potential of me having "access"
to the disclosure...

         it's impossible to love a woman like
a saint... somehow possible to love one as...
but to love one as an ANGEL...
her own words...
                i couldn't get a *******:
she was living with 4 homosexuals..
we drink so that we might forget...
we forget in order that we might
attest to the puddle pretending it to be the sea..

waves.. waves... countless hybrids
of ice comes with cherry pulp....
i don't like the current *** culture...
i debit my encounters...
i pay upfront...
a day of the darkening of skies...

hier: ich bin!                    jetzt!
              jetzt! oder! nimmer!

   **** it... english party girls have it
covered... for the time being.
No barons down in Earls court and no Surrey in the quays
the underground's a mess if names are things that please
in Raynors lane there's rain again
in Catford there are mice
in Epping it is epic and I think that's awful nice,
In Battersea there is no sea
in Clapham they don't clap
at shooters hill they don't shoot guns
and Network East's a trap.

In Stepney there are several steps
in deptford they sink under debts
nothing gets me on my way than to pass through Green lanes, Harringay, now I don't know many gays down there but I'm friends with some
up in Sloane square
no Knights in Knightsbridge anymore
no Kings at Kingly court
Bradford's not in Bingley either
neither here nor there nor in Trafalgar Square will you see any ships

But the underground's a fabulous place for going out on trips.
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2021
a little argentinian malbec for
persuasion -

  because there's nothing for
the sort of blues of
reading through the poetry
bestseller books...

i'm not going to milk that
ol' goat of gloating
in saying:
        i'm better than that...
i'll just remind myself:

god, i possibly can't be
any worse...
   leftover ideals of love:
the sort of love
where a woman
is a mannequin
    and a man is...
           an imitation octopus...

that i've come to a crosswords
is probably an understatement...
stalemate in prose
to boot...

just so it happens
   i've done more walking
than writing:
having covered most of
the north-eastern aspect
of greater London...

from Romford to:
Epping,
             Coldharbour
Canary Wharf
St. Paul's cathedral...
Upminster, Brentwood...
and round and round
around Chigwell through
to Woodford...
   Epping Forest is overrated...
too many roads
cut through and too many
little rivers run through:
more like a swamp than
anything...

and with this, my "dilemma"...
circa 7 languages to
draw a picture...
  either a horizon or...
a take on Cezanne's still life...
better something Dali        esque...

眼 (ㄩㄠㄋ) -
      which is eye (yaun)
                       in pinyin / zhuyin:

since a glyph is not a letter
(apparently well d'ah d'ah d'uh!)

exhibit (a)

                                          երկինք
  שמש

                             เมฆ

                                     ㄕㄢ    (ㄕㄚㄋ)
ヤマ

    पानी (i.e. नदी)

                                       ც ე ც
                                       ხ ლი

         ⰎⰀⰔ
                         ᛋᚴᛟᚷ

           oddly enough coming back
to ol' ge'ez...
   i.e. ethiopian... i.e.
the word... for king...
                                       ነገ
                                           hmm
   "problem"...
            i know how an acute accent
on an S sounds like

                      ነገሠ    vs.
                          ­               ነገሰ

and i know the word... in "slang":
i.e. NYGUS...
                                             ነየገሰ

that vowels "might" be hidden
is obvious...
        disclaimer: although this is
a phonetic sketch...
  i'll write each word as it is:

sky, sun,
   clouds, mountain, mountain,
water (i.e. river)
                     fire
forest, forest,
                              king...
          
   մարդ        ստվեր
       ชาย         เงา
           ニンゲン    カゲ
आदमी       साया
   კაცი   ჩრდილი
         žmonių     šešėliai

that i was looking for (ų)
              is without a doubt...
what with the already planted (ą, ę)
i had the sound...
but i couldn't posit a meaning /
a word with it...
lucky me... lithuanian... had it...
all along...

       just like...
an imaginary petition
to revise some Cyrillic...
   i.e.
       if Ш = SH = Š
          and if Щ = SHCH = ŠČ
        then why . o O why...
does   Ц = the polish "c" or the german "z"...
i.e. why does      Ч = Č                ??????
                                         ­              ?????
                                                       ?????!

does ras(PUTIN) know? no?
looks pretty ******* solid to me, no?
i.e.
         Ш + Ц = Щ
                  
          it would seem plain enough:
n.b. the last time i read (past participle
red? lost the a, letter, not the indefinite
article)

of Dickens mention "orthography"
was nothing short of a spelling mistake...
i.e. the slightly above "average"
of phonetic-
                 (open form, hyphen attached,
no         -ing
          e.g. begin{n}ing)

juice worth of shrapnel...
whatever the eye might see
and denote as: cardamom...
             इलायची like so...
or კარდამონი like so...
      the nose a priori the eye...

a sure sign of Caucasian "superiority"
is bound to...
ahem... the "concept"
of having uppercase and lowercase
lettering...
unlike in "mother" Cyrillic...

at times Cyrillic looks cheap at
times... survivable...
to be of use... on the Siberian tundra...
which is hardly a Saharahaha...
sprout of a giggle and a variation
of a dwarf's name like Gimmley &
tow Grimm...

honestly: a bottle of Argentinian
red later and i'm... theta or phi i.e.
fffffff-erocious...
             raucous...
it's under suspicion that i cite...

Byzantium is not allocated
the Caucus route of all things...
crumbly...
post-colonial... imperial-y...
     like thing-y
        magic-y...
                       from... TWITCHY...
from fidgety...
the article of "nuance" /
association...
the associative article in english...
i.e. y
            
   if there is an indefinite article (a)
then that there is a definite article (the)
a possessive / plural article ('s / s)
so... the article of association / loose...
Herman?
            ein(e) zeppelin... bitte...
                                            werfen scheiße!

more example of a pan-Caucasian
takeover of... Caucasian ***** 'n' / &
*******?
            if god had such a grudge
against sacrifice of a jeez Louise
and zeus to boot...
then latin, this script...
would have gone the way
of the egyptian gylphs
and the babylonian cuneiform...
dodo... to paraphrase...

but no... oh no!

while "we" have the African boyos on
the beatbox of Beelzebub
i'll be the one ridiculed as...
tossing up a bother over a woord
sooload...
           because:
just because...

my petition is simple...
          Ц = Č... can't you feel it...
the old evil... the cold war...
the fact that you want to **** khaki nazis...
just because you're dressed in rags /
mongolian heaps of ****-smear
and a Bolshevik too
and they're the nicely primmed
Munich boys donning...
   Karl Diebitsch, Walter Heck
and of course 'ugo Boss...
            just because... it's that sort
of evil you want to ****
because... it's prophetic and it's
fire and it's crisp and it's
arrogant and stratosphere real...
it's the high heavens... all the 9s...
it's... an evil of potentially me...
it's: a betterment clause...
because i want to be...
         this ZZ-TOP...
                                                    sav­vy?

i.e. i'm not here to "talk" about
post-colonialism or the zenith of the
british empire...
history... etymology...
a language as something of
a labyrinth as those who acquire it...
weave it... ***-tickle-fancy it...
worthy of a revision...
but not... biased with...
cf. race-baiting...

   chris rea: so... so long long we
go to yet... gone...
   fish................... ing...
      
                    some bias in a b'          'op....
suppose there's a long pause
between the apostrophes...
mistake the apostrophes for hyphens...
b-                              -op
or better... a *** a sour-*****-klein-kinder...

in reverse reverse-psy-ops...
of the whittle Bangladeshi from
Manor Park, Forest Gate,
to Stratford through the Roding Valley...

***'s a yield of two a broker's supposed:
breaking of the son...
down or up the Gierkowa...
i.e. from Warsaw to Cracow
or from Cracow to Warsaw...
piggy-bag on the shoulders
of no lesser pseudo-Atlas
that, than was king Casimir...
some third...

           rummaging in the derelict
parts of heaven...
like an afternoon watching
my girl fridy...
apparently making a film in
1940s... and the whole world
deserves to "disappear"...
in a figment of 3rd party...

there isn't an associative article?
there isn't a dissociative article?
         bound to some          -ish...
that it's blue-ish...
that it might be tree-of-sort?
   this language this my playground...
who's no 'ere who is 'ere
anyhow?
  the last Portuguese take
on... chewing cheese?
      if "they" only knew what Alfonso /
missing the suffix -o actually implies
elsewhere... herr ****** etc.

- such that half of Poland died when
my grandfather died...
i mentioned the name: KRUPPS
and he knew...
to do with metallurgy...
and enterprise...
                          and by the time the other
half dies... i'll be...
freed toward the perspective of
flying... kite against swallows...
hoping to confuse
swallows with sparrows...

one word...

           scarecrow...
probably a misnomer given
the i.q. of crows...
crows probably... i just too pretend...
scarecrow in english...
let me check...

strach na wróble: literally...
reads as: fear for sparrows...
that's ******
pole ****** for you...
hmpf....
a rare sound of arrogant: quasi...
what do you want me to...
tailor / edit?

    doy'tch...
             vogelscheuche
noord: i.e. nordic...
             fugleskremsel...
a variation of skremme...
          schrecken: scare... to...
rather than: to... fear...
       absolutely nothing... to do...
with... allocated birds...
****'s sake... might as well be...
as easily done as...
frightpeacock!
              or aghastsduck!

this is language: my ******* playground...
no ethnically bound pseudo-darwins...
the empire... etc. are... all that welcome...
hier, i(s)ch bin "gott":
                                         ich bin wort!

hölle: bin ich... 'meow'?
                gurke-gänsehaut-ständer...
nein?

1:30am... that's enough...
          the wine has been drank...
the song... partially written... mostly unsung...
numbed...
******* Schwabian and sort...
because the Saxophone players moved
west and called a piece of Denmark
(Anglia)... that Roman variation
of Albion etc.
    and i'm here doing LEGO puzzle(s)
with Ali from dislodged Tehran?

crosswords... patriots of north h'america...
nationalists of europe...
funnel... fizz...
           the hardly... croat patriots mingling
with the iowa patriots of...
can you... allow... conjunctions
in acronyms?
united, yes.... stated...
                                   milkshake lingo...
of(f)                 ham... the burger buns...
      land of Ur...
that variation of Abraham
     *** Gilgamesh...
       veering into
Qi and Raq...
as...         how the Ottomans were
"necessary" in... Medina...

         bon ******* voyeurism of...
the taj mahal... via... c.c.t.v. etc.
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2022
what is wrong with me?! i thought i was way past this
teenage point infancy of feelings -
i thought i would never return to the boy that would
look at girls with longing in high school -
who'd ask them to be drawn - whether Janina in art class
to asking this new girl Emma a year my junior
when she started attending our school's sixth form
college and i asked her: can you give me a photograph
of yourself... i want to sketch you...
i'm sitting down writing this listening to music that
i listened to as a teenager... for ****'s sake... Backstreet Boys?!
you have to kidding me: i'm kidding myself...
i feel like a mollusk: all mushy-peas and butterflies
in my stomach...
she was new to the job... but i worked with her friend
who she apparently has know for donkey's years...
i always wanted to come across this sort of an English
beauty... dark ginger hair... not even remotely ginger...
no freckles... perhaps slightly pale skin... but in her own words
she tans decently... i was curious: that's not ginger:
proper ginger.... it's more auburn brown: perhaps a darker
shade of ginger...
and her smile: lustful yet at the time playful...
Gemma... oh Gemma Gemma...
         why am i getting all these butterflies... why have i returned
to the boy... i know this isn't love:
it's such a sickly sweet infatuation...
i took care of her on her first shift... we worked the turnstiles
checking for Covid passes... we had fun...
she felt comfortable... i gave her my hand to feel
how cold it was...
    i hate jewelry on the hands but i didn't even mind
that she had four rings...
then her back story... how old are you, she asked: 35...
see... at 35 and not married, childless...
what's on offer? i can see girls in their early 20s... in their
late teens... oddly enough i can never find these
girls.. women... interesting...
obviously i didn't ask her for her age...
she was going to disclose it at some point: covertly...
she had her son at the age of 27... he's 12 now...
ergo? she's 39...
                   what are my prospects? if i didn't go mad
at the age of 21, i might be your atypical male in his 30s...
with a stable career, a decent income....
probably a mortgage, a car... but silly ol' me had
to ******* and look for god and honing a life under
the radar of prescribing myself to the pursuit of art
and a quasi-poverty...
it all looks great when such elevated feelings come into
play: but i can't afford the sort of things reality
dictates when it comes to women...
some boyish infatuation bound to a 30+ year old man
is only going to hurt me...
poker face on...
     i can't provide what is expected of me: if anything
is to be expected of me to begin with...
i better keep my distance...
while there she is... telling me of her private life...
aged 27 she was impregnated...
the guy broke it off with her 3 months before they
were supposed to get married...
he apparently said that he would be ****** if he stayed
and doubly ****** if he left...
an alcoholic, he was charged with battering her
and her son: his son... then 3 years old...
he was given an 8 month suspended sentence and
some hours of community service...
his second, third, fourth? partner he also impregnated...
but she was already mothering three children
from three different fathers... ahem... "fathers"...
he apparently drew up 8 thousand pounds of debt
on her credit cards...
                      i'm in love, i'm infatuated...
but in the back of my mind... i'm getting "triggered"...
we talked about her kid... i tell her that i was also an only
child... the kid calls him ****, doesn't call him father...
hasn't really seen him: to the best of his ability to remember...
while we were coming back from our Fulham shift
she would rest on my shoulder,
look at me like a schoolgirl... i'd pretend to not notice...
she would sit slightly forward...
rest her elbow on my leg... she felt sick, she had a headache...
good on my to have had some paracetamol...
i told her to draw the glass down so gusts of fresh air
would her face...
god... the only thing that was missing was
seeing her face in the moonlight, in a forest...
RYAN ADAMS - STAY WITH ME...
we passed the national history museum and she thought
about going inside... the ice-rink outside...
the ice-rink outside of Somerset House...
once you get older ****** tensions become so much more
deliberate...
subtle... yet nothing closely associated with
the vulgarity of being a teenager: we're talking about
hurt creatures mingling with hurt creatures...
yeah, women made mistakes... judge them?
not when they are coming across so insatiable...
i never thought i'd return to this arena of feeling...
she picked up some Chinese take-away while dropping me
off at the nearest Tesco so i could pick up a liter of whiskey
and ******* home...
Fulham FC beat Bristol City 6 - 2...
                 oh Gemma Gemma, Gemma...
i've been living in England since i've been 8 years old
yet i've only ever dated a French girl, an Australian girl,
a Russian, ****** a Thai surprise, a Turkish *******...
an Ukrainian *******, a Romanian *******...
i too consider myself an alcoholic...
but... ramming my fist into a woman, choking her...
beating my own offspring... that **** is off-limits...
i've been missing to tell English girls what i've been dying to
tell them for the past 20 years...
would i take your son on a date with you in tow
to the National History Museum?
sure... i think i would...
         but that's what's on offer...
                            too many unrealistic expectations on
the behalf of 20 year old girls...
Gemma has a car... i rather cycle... could me and your
son go cycling, toward Epping?
sure... that's... what's on offer...
fair enough for the infatuation... but when reality
comes around to bite my *** i know this will only have been
a very beautiful dream... chances are...
for every kid there will be a different daddy...
hell... she might be a lesbian... but she has children...
she's dating women but... what?
she went to the ******* *****-donor clinic
for her sample of progressiveness?!

beautiful, i don't know how i found my extroversion
and my confidence, maybe it was always there:
sleeping... while i was looking for something else...
i might drink, excessively at times...
but even i'm thinking along the lines:
i ****** up... but i didn't **** up to that point...
not that i'm any better... just saying:
at least i'm not scarring younglings...
to hell with bringing children into the world if
you **** them up outright...
i'd rather have no children than **** up children...
but i still can't help falling in love...
even if she's 3 years my senior...

you know what she even mentioned... her anxiety...
why are these women so open with me?
i'm the guy who ***** off into a forest or a graveyard
at night... am i to be trusted?!
so she tells me that she started gnashing her teeth...
grinding them unconsciously...
because of all the stress her supposed super EX...
the one that impregnated her, that run 8K pounds' worth
of debt on her card... she now has to think about
getting filling on four of her teeth:
since she was grinding her teeth...
i did that once... just after my great-grandmother's funeral...
i sat alone in the kitchen and gnashed my teeth...
i also took a red rose i was supposed to throw
into the grave for some ******* reason:
which i didn't... i didn't... i sat alone in the kitchen
at night and played around with the candlelight...
i managed to turn a red rose into a purple rose
by the use of candlelight...

to be in love once more: but... oh **** me...
the reservations keep flooding in...
this might only become a one night stand of me feeling this...
we picked up her Chinese takeaway...
while she dropped me off i was tempted to
kiss her hand goodbye... i refrained...
i was sort of waiting for the words:
you want to come over with me?
i just left her to her Chinese takeaway to herself,
alone... i'm drinking whiskey on my own...
but... am i alone?

               what a ****-show modernity has become...
honest to god and the devil...
the arch-angels and the demons....
you are here: you are here...

tonight i might have to mount the tired
steed of snow & the frozen lake...
to make it over some minimal distance...
oh Gemma, Gemma, Gemma...
you eating the Chinese take-away yourself...
not that i'm at all the best of company...
but how pretty you look.
Same faces
old men
briefcases
must be working
early today.

She's still doing the crossword
yesterday's news
feeding her answers
reading the clues
nothing changes.

Baby in a carry cot
not a lot of scope to wriggle
but
giggling anyway.

The tube map's the same
I can name every station
from Epping to Ealing
feeling old, but not as old
as him
who looks like the reaper,
grim
is the word I would choose.

The gap's just a trap to
catch the unwary
it's never caught me.

A river appears in which
I fish for ideas
but nothing comes up to
bite me
it might be
I'm using the wrong type
of bait.
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2022
drama for queens

teenage boy is no
teenage girls' dream.   (502 bad gateway hack mobility, scooter)

i never know how the story goes, esp. this story: dentes qua stellae or whether it's stellae qua dentes i.e. teeth as being stars, or stars as being teeth... so much for the "son of man's" suffering upon the cross, there were plenty more horrible ways to die, i know for certain that "my" fellow countrymen in the late middle-ages preferred to impale culprit Ukrainians... they'd grease them up and impale them on a "1" / an "I"ota... so much concern for the suffering of the "son"... i'm pretty sure Zeus had "one too many"... but never in "question" is the suffering of the father... all those stars juxtaposed, into geometries and not geometries, if not an ideal sq. then most certainly a triangle, no circles in constellations... but it's abstract in a way that would be fiddly on paper... gods bend the rules for what's already here while men try to make sense of said bending of rules, men and gods meet halfway, there's a common language to be shared by both creatures... whoever was the dentist-sadist that was... i'm pretty sure my "father" endured more suffering than simply dangling from a cross... i see him now... like a worm from the planet Dune.... whirling in a gravitating darkness... himself the darkness and the gravitational pull of it... for each star upon the nightly heavens is his tooth... pulled out from his mouth... sure... a pretty grin... at first... a dissolving all blindening of light... but now? all his teeth have been pulled out and scattered in his mouth agape that's this vacuum of: no chew and no bite... how hungry he sits... unable to: nonetheless willing to sieve through every other living creature having its fill... long will it be before his teeth implode into "nothing" and are returned to his mouth... i'm guessing i should dream more often, only recently i encountered a dream from one of my ex-girlfriends, a Russian girl... she actually painted a picture of the dream... i was standing facing the third eye of her dream-architect backwards... a bit like Judas in one of those paintings of the Last Supper... i was holding a sword in my hand while she was kneeling and had her arms outstretched insinuating mercy... a kneeling woman in the form of a crucifix... but that was over 10 years ago... i found my shashka wooden sword over a year ago long before the Russia-Ukraine conflict started... i just stashed it waiting for the right moment to hang it on my wall... funny... i guess that's what happens when one doesn't dream... one create a reality from the dreams of others.... this interpretation of a dream of hers? i have, in a way, turned my back towards the west... in the grandiosity of dream-language i am standing over a kneeling Russia and refraining from using my sword... it makes sense that i dream of nothing... i just remember her giving me this picture she sketched... it looks like her dream came into fruition... but me standing with my face hidden... hell... i never liked the idea of the Russian being the scapegoat of the whole of humanity, this evil genius boogey-man... to isolate the Russians is like... a recipe for a perfect disaster... i was never inclined to make an Anglophone fetish for America... and i never will... the east is calling me... "my" people would rather wage war against each other than succumb to Western decadence... but at the same time i can't the Russian claim for defending Christianity: Christianity is indefensible to me with the emerge of the Naag Hammadi Library that coincides: almost precisely with the Matthias ben Josephus' account of the times, about an Egyptian False Prophet who attempted to sack Jerusalem, failed and fled back into the Egyptian desert... just by "coincidence" the Dead Sea Scrolls were found, the atom bomb exploded twice and was subsequently tested... too many ******* coincidences if you ask me... i don't feel or subsequently think i have any impetus for either western or eastern culture... i'm a no-culture culture... i'm sure i'll figure something out as i age (god permitting), for the time being i'm just hyper-focused on a second schism in Islam, spearheaded by the Turks... perhaps i'm mad... perhaps... but even the psychiatrists i met with discharged me as being free-thinking untamed... sure... they tried to medicate me, they did, i put on a lot of weight... then i stopped taking the "medication" and got my libido back, lost weight, cycled to Epping and elsewhere walked a marathon to St. Paul's and back... blah blah... am i mad or is it just that everyone is too ******* sane for anyone's willingness to enjoy life with a thrill?!

mmm hmm... traffic is bad on the internet,
someone explained it to me,
this 502 bad gateway phenomenon
i listed and heard the explanation like someone
might hear an echo... it sort of vibrates
a silence that has a second laugh when told:
you'll die...

that women are better at language than men
that men were supposedly better at science
and mathematics than women...
sure... i too am seeing seismic rearrangements
taking place...
given the change in industry...

i'm still serious about going into primary school
teaching...
when the scrutiny of my teaching ability
is out of the room and i'm well established
into my role... i'll teach them...
those gremlins... ha! you'll hear that the Europeans
arrived at the current numbers
from the Hindus and the Arabs from the Hindus
and we poor poor, pauper thinking northerners
were enlightened by the sands of squiggly
lines of ink!

ha ha! like **** we were...
the Ancient Romans used letters as both letters
and numbers! IV... what? not 4?
what's 4? i look at G and see a mirror and a
clockwise turning...
i see an 8 i see a B...
i see a 9 i see... a P...
                        iota for everyone eleven 11...
2 for a Z... S for every 5...
                        3 for every E...
7 for every L...
                               6 for every Bb...
0 for every Oh Oh Oh!

                 fake news... self-taught truths and the the world
can go to hell with the usurpers of my arrived at
figuring out how: to send a postcard from
a defunct Third *****... just a stamp will do...

much a bigger whirlwind than with the advent
of the 20th century... bigger?
well... the 20th century was the whirlwind,
the hurricane... the 21st century?
ha ha! it's going to be a butterfly!
you know about the butterfly effect...
the 21st century is going to be just that...
the horrible has already happened!
i'm just here to invigorate a metaphor of what could
have happened...

sure... white girls are staging a "coup d'état" of ***...
black guys... hell... i too find them handsome...
trouble is... i can't go down that little "Nile" of hers
to the equator for equal parallel...
i went east... to the lands of Gypsies and vampires
and Mongols and Orcs...
sorry girl... we were always disparaging creatures...

ofiaruje mojej dziewczinie... szlafrok w którym utonie...
przy świecach i koniaku...
po pas po szyje... piegi i policzki blade...
tak, tylko ona, jad jedwab...
ofiaruje... Hollandi morskie owoce...
dziwne przyprawy...
farbowane rzesy...

                      ofiaruje mojej dziewczynie:
rodzinki, krewetki, mandarinki!

i will offer my girl... a bathrobe in which she we drown,
before candles and cognac,
unto the waist unto the neck... freckles and pale cheeks...
yes, only her, like silk...
i will offer... Holland's sea-fruits...
strange spices...
dyed eyebrows...

i will offer my girl:
raisins, prawns, mandarins...

i lost myself in conversations...
only 2 weeks ago i watched two brown eagles
fight over a meal just above me
while i was doing something in the garden...
but lately... ever since doing shifts....

two brown eagles fighting over a meal
just above my garden... huh...
i was familiar with Parakeets lingering
at Bishops' Park Fulham...
i... today... not even today...
what the **** are three flocks of
Parakeets doing flying across my horizon
and garden included...
if i asked for Messerschmitts i'd ask for a cláwd (cloud)
of crows or a flock of woodland pigeons...
i would be asking for ******* parakeets!

the former is a Welsh take on things...
but i don't want to beat my own drum...
obviously the Scots are dreaming "big" in terms of
what's united and what's disunited...
we're living in funny times...
i'm starting to think the sclera in my eyes is
turning yellow from all the whiskey i'm drinking:
mind you: there are worse ways to die...
from drinking excessively and writing
originally...

as you age you realise: there's no Romeo in you:
but there was...
i know i had a Romeo in me...
then the splintering happens...
as you age you realise you need to learn juggling...
it's not exactly juggling if there's only one
women in your life...
you need at least 6... whether you **** them or
not is not part of the "plan"...
me? 5 i ****... and the rest?
i don't count... i'm more an anti-dyslexic
sort of guy rather than an arithmetic sort of guy...
i like: a, CLA-RI-TY OF SPE-LLING...

just today... i met up with Frankie...
a work colleague...
we tried talking for about 20 minutes not being
in uniform of either shirt and black tie
or black t-shirt and all things black...
i did stretch it that far along...
but it was ******* difficult...
we're already in our lanes...
we know our mistakes and we know
the sort of people we can replicate these mistakes
with... ergo: we pursue the sort of people
we can make the same mistakes with...
even though: as a man?
i can't exactly become pregnant either the first
or second time, actually: never...
prostitutes wouldn't make that sort of
mistake of trying to get alimony from
a pundit...

         ergo? before feminism... i was telling
these two girls are work...
my grandfather mentioned that back in the day...
in a little nation known as Poland...
the sort of cousin of the rebirth of Israel...
there was this "thing" known as: Bachelors' Tax...
oh yeah... Bachelors used to pay a tax
on them remaining single,
it was called a BASIORY...

and i would be paying that sort of tax for...
exactly what? tax freebies of western single mothers?!
me?! getting a council house / flat?!
as a man?
**** me... i'll need to grow a womb and pop
a hungry brat out for myself to use as TOOL...
oh i'm not bitter...
sure... i live with my parents...
but i take care of them...
plus i drink to excess and write to excess
when they're asleep:
it's an unhealthy healthy relationship...
i do most of the cleaning and the cooking...
i dreamed of one day following the Biblical quip
of breaking away...
but then i saw what that entailed...

you marry a woman: you break away from your mother
and father... you abandon them...
you marry a woman... and?
you get a ******* mother and father in-law...
GREAT! ******* all ten (are) thumbs up!
that's just ******* brilliant! sign me up!
no...
         if that is the fate of man...
i'm in no way part of being a man...
i want to be an aman...
                                i was so close to bagging this
deal... the overtly friendly in-laws...
the woman... well... in the biological: mammalian
sense... she wouldn't... do the mantis ****
during *******...
she would just **** you years later...
replacing your mother and father with her father
and mother...

i ******* ran as quickly as my mind allowed
and my legs couldn't provide when she first
performed oral *** on me...
the words: what would father think...
what?!                       is that supposed to be:
a ******* "turn-on"?
  what you dada-tink?!
                                                    y­ou what?!
you just told me what i would "think" if
you'd think what it would be like
for you giving you actual father oral ***...
basically... un-basically basically:
well: ma'am used to the be spy "code word"...
in a queer world... qua is the new ma'am...

i purged my former ****** experiences
within the puritanical uninhibited experiences with
prostitutes...
i came out? rather unscathed...
i accustomed myself to sitting across at least
5... all of which i ******...
sort of glittering with an aura of:
dentes qua stellae!

that teeth could become stars...
each time i see a migrating star
i conjure up the passion of one of my own
being uprooted from my jaw and
bone licking, straight out of Belgium's
flat-land-demand!
to hell with these chocalatiers!
it's Belgium: currently the heartland of Europe...
otherwise a non-country...
certainly nothing geographically worth minding!
it is! it isn't!
who gives a **** or a white shirt's worth of minding!

of all the philosophy books...
so few write about ***...
   actually: none do... Platonic love my ***...
which ought to have been written by a homosexual...
but then there's that extreme with Marquis de Sade...
i'd rather write about ***
than actually utter a single word during *******...
i refrain: yet still they come
cackling with: ooh... you're tiny... jokingly...
actual *** is so much more interesting
than what ******* has to offer...
******* is acting! *** is anti-acting...
it's the one view of what
upstaging the Thespian Tyranny can ever look like!
the only way to attack the Thespian Tyranny
is to attack the asexual pornographic actors!
they're ******* actors! literally!
they're ******* ******* actors!
they "enjoy" *** on the basis of PRETEND...
me? i love *******...
i'm already gearing up for Thursday...
i'm doing two days of bashing the bishop
without ****** to get the blood flowing...
i need to starve and excite myself
at least 2 days prior to *******...
my ***** are tingling and so is my *******
while i write this...

i need to perform! if i don't perform
i won't be smoking that hash Frankie gave me
after ***...
oh... i'm not young and stupid (again) enough
to smoke and write something...
i'm going to go straight to bed
and have my head massaged by a H. P. Lovecraft's
octopus horror godhead...
because i **** Gypsy girls...
Gypsy or Turkish? whichever...
   as much as i'd love a blonde... hell...
  if you don't have what you like...
might as well like what you have...

                           i'm currently surprising myself
with what i just sent my coworker
in a private message.
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2022
chat bots:
zaby: niet: zeby... (frogs... not teeth)

this heat-wave is making everyone, fffff-ucking cuckoo! i must have lost it about 5 times today... sweating like a pig about to be slaughtered, rambling mad... drank more than i could ever possibly eat... for dinner? the thinner me... two Becks, a pork steak cooked ideally: so the juices were still running... and a few precious olives... with pickled garlic and pickled chillies and plenty of oregano and olive oil... that's it! to hell with this world... to hell with climate-change sceptics... i hate them as much as i hate atheists... i was actually going to post this on the 18th of June... but i thought... i'll wait... it was already been several days of this heat... i'll wait... something is bound to happen: something convincing... the fire in Wennington broke the camel's back... i ffff-ucking sometimes cycle through there... what the ffff-ucking hell happened? scorched earth! the earth's alight! and what am i doing? like **** i'm going on some fancy holiday... like hell i'm going to own a car... i just own a bicycle... i planted 8+ trees in my garden... i tend to talk... i hate climate-change sceptics and deniers like Holocaust deniers and atheists... and all the rest of the secular nunnery *******... the "sensible folk"... they: ****... ME... OFF... like i: don't have enough oath-words to use... i swear like a cobbler when it comes to these matters... today we snapped at each other over the littlest of things: you're keeping the fridge door open for too long... you haven't covered the coleslaw... seconds apparently turned into hours... do i, look... like a ******* camel jockey to you? take this ******* heat and go back to Sahara... that desert that was once a mighty mountain range... all deserts were mountain ranges once... aren't we living in times beside Copernicus... aren't we stuck with Darwinistic pre-history ontology? then all deserts used to be mountain-ranges... now crank up the heat... the sort of heat that makes people mad and animals bewilder themselves... i mention this as much generously later on...

i seriously think the internet can be a lovely place...
sure... there are some pitfalls...
for one: i avoided online dating sites like
the plague... i don't know how i managed to get
fooled by social media...
then again: those were early days...
back in 2005... facebook had a policy of: only university
students... being the first person in my family
to go to university i gobbled some things naively...
mind you: i was already using last.fm
to forage for new music... that's how i found about
Porcupine Tree... Spirit... Gong... to name but the few...
i must have come across Wolfmother too...
i was over the moon that they played in Edinburgh
rather than playing Glasgow...
mind you: i didn't mind that Tool played in Glasgow...
i was willing: more than willing to make that trip
from Edinburgh... that's where i met her...
met: and left her...
    oh man... we were getting crushed... or rather:
she was getting crushed in the pit of happy maggots...
water was being distributed in plastic glasses
so that people wouldn't faint...
   (of course i'm going to portray myself as
someone good... although i tend to think i'm a nasty
piece of work... better to think yourself rotten
than as good... it works to anyone's advantage...
since? there's always room for improvement)
    the glasses were passing us left and right...
someone finally managed to not drink a water from
the cup and it passed into my hand...
what did i do? did i drink it? nope...
            i gave the cup to her... she gulped it down...
the second time i managed to catch a cup...
i drank half of it myself... offered it to her:
she refused... on the basis that the first cup satiated her...
so i passed the cup further down in the crowd...
third cup... i gave it to her... she drank half...
the remaining half i passed down the crowd...
by then i was almost bear-hugging her to give her
space to breath... so much so that she managed to turn
around... we chatted for about two minutes:
the old internet: a.s.a.l... sort of shtick...
                              and by the depth of the music coming
from Tool... we started snogging...
                    did i mind that she said she was German?
hmm!? i'm currently listening to: die weisse dame
                                                                      (d'ah m'eh)...
yes... the Tetragrammaton appears in certain
European languages...  e.g. ANTHONY...
                     you don't say: ANFONY
                               you say: ANTONY...
who's foney / phoney?! is that like someone: who can
be the X-man Magneto but with telephones?!

i probably have regrets... once the crowd was dispersing
after the concert was over...
i saw her standing in some obvious location...
we got separated...
            mind you... did she come alone?
girls? going to concerts on their own? not then not now...
highly unlikely...
but who was she with? a girlfriend or a boyfriend?
regrets... i walked passed her...
   i was about to ask her if she wanted to go back
to Edinburgh with me for some ***... well: not exactly
*** as a one word question... more...
on the lines of relationship building...
    nerves? she ignored me? i was snogging her
just a few minutes and half-hours prior...
            men go to concerts on their own...
do women? rare...
                      women travelling on their own? also rare...
i used to take these weekend trips
to some of the capitals of Europe: alone...
   because... i've been on trips with "friends"...
****** trips... disorganised trips... pointless trips...
i said: **** it... i'm going solo...
                 should i have approached her?
n'ah... she just topped the feelings of seeing Tool live...
a favourite band of mine since the age of 14...
or 15...

what was i "saying"? oh... right... the internet used to be fun,
it still is...
              sure... you get some *******... most of them
are neurotic women... thought-police Katherine(s)...
oh Carol... or oh Caren... or Kerrie... whatever...
             women who have no idea that either William Burroughs
or Ovid or for that matter Marquis de Sade ever existed...
what? i know what cancel-culture is...
i've been banned on... several sites... just outright
deleted... no response...
i was suspended on one website for about 9 months...
what happened, after? the Streisand effect...
my absence imploded...
prior? one of my poems had... maybe... maybe 2K views...

now? i'm packing a crowd of about 50K...
ergo? it's a good thing...
              but it's unlike the internet of NAPSTER
and HOTMAIL... and MSN? what were those chat-rooms
where people would talk anonymously...
with girls in America... i remember those...
that's how we first plundered our presence
in this sphere... obviously publishers wouldn't
listen to us... and we had better things to do anyway...
it was either homework... playing the Age of Empires II
or chatting to people before bots and proper a.i.
was introduced...
way way before internet shopping...
i still remember the classic look of a high street:
there used to be a record shop on each of them...

now? you want a record shop?
Romford... that's the only one i know that still exists...
it's like: Mecca...
seriously... come to Romford... buy some spinning
liquorice...
             i don't even know whether i've grown into
England or whether England has grown into me...
i'm guessing both... of course the myth of my childhood
in Poland is locked in the vaults of memory
of my mind... how we used to play together as children...
hide & seek... marbles... tic-tac-toe...
   skipping ropes... oh sure: boys and girls used to play
together... we didn't get as far as cards...
Blackjack... i'm afraid that if i started playing
Blackjack with the boys i would have not moved an inch...
from where i was born...

but look at me now...
    London leech... in and outs of Bow and further afield
as far as Epping... on a bicycle...
this is home... it breaks my heart in a way
but also mends it...
  
hmm... i recently came across an advert for online
therapy... a woman is sitting in a cubicle in a toilet
and is talking about how her mind will not switch off...
questions: self-rhetorical answers... more questions...
then the lights are turned on...
and in a cubicle next to her another woman
tries to "squeeze" out in a silence...
the camera returns to the woman who "thinks"
she's talking to someone... clearly: she isn't...
              i tried therapy... i tried psychologists:
**** me... at least the most they can do is prescribe you
talk and camomile tea...
i talked to psychiatrists...
    hmm... with the ineffectuality of asylums...
being prescribed pills... usually associated with asylums?
ha ha... ah ha ha...
i put on... let's settle on 30kg...
     i was a porky pie...
                   oh! but it was the cure! i was being cured!
i was "depressed" one year... "schizophrenic" another...
"psychotic" throughout... but when i got a brain MIR scan
back in Poland and talked to a ****** neurosurgeon...
i asked: so am i mad?
he replied: if anyone says you're mad... they're mad themselves...

i love England... no... English people are not racists...
they're just sadistic sometimes...
they have a sadistic sense of humour...
and a sadistic diagnostic-rumour: murmur...
after speaking to this ****** neurosurgeon...
i had to go back... back to England...
oh sure... i still talked with the psychiatrists
that were "treating" me...
i still took the pills...
      until one day: i snapped...
        my mother was having spinal surgery...
i just finished reading Kierkegaard's either / or...
no... that was stalemate: read...
i just finished reading vol. 1 of Kant's critique of pure reason...
and... i couldn't find vol. 2...
i was so ******* *******...

and i told her: when i get out of here!
     did she think: when i escape my body?
to me... psychosis is osmosis... i'm going back to either
air... fire... water or the earth...
perhaps a coupling...

point being: the advert? me... i have a post-Soviet
distrust for psychology, psychiatry, atheism...
why demand people have no soul but make logistic
investments into there being a soul?
or the opposite... whatever the opposite is...
                  i wouldn't talk to anyone but a random
stranger...
                     *******... mother-****-gobbling-*******...
misjudgements?! hmm-um?!
    yeah: bravo-me for keeping my anger under control
by drinking... and taking: long walks...
i once became so mad i walked from Romford to...
Harlow... in the middle of the night...
down roads without any pedestrian access...
      sat in a 24h Tesco waiting to buy a bottle of Jack...
talking to this naive teenage girl...
bought the bourbon... walked into a forest
and started eating Lilac coloured mushrooms...
i literally stopped caring...
the "adventure" finished with me catching a taxi home
and sleeping for about 12 hours...

alcohol as a sedative? yeah... it is... it's a sedative
keeping me intact: from boiling over into absolute rage...
i need it to sweat it out...
every time i drink i'm sedated:
i'm like the antithesis of what most drunks are...
they just explode carelessly...
at rock concerts or football matches... reckless idiots:
IF YOU ONLY KNEW THE TRUE POWER
OF ALCOHOL... what focus it can give...
how else did the pilots of Spitfires defeat
the Amphetamine riddled pilots of the Messerschmitts...
how else? how else where they defeated?
alcohol is a war potent contained in the most
affectionate man...
  
mind you: i know what an alcoholic looks like...
my grandfather was an alcoholic...
he was also a stamp-collector... i still have his Soviet
stamps... i wonder... if i really wanted money...
how much could they fetch in the west...
but... since i'm not after money... because i'm of the motto:
ARBEIT MACHT FREI... and i like the idea of
things... formerly owned by others are like
keeping their presence nearest to me...
translated as travelling stars in the night sky...
and i've seen: plenty... of those...
there are constellations... but there are also these...
roaming stars... i can't explain it...

be kind to animals, be kind to these little critters...
this will allow you to distinguish:
or least favour the judgement concerning:
whether you should be kind to all men:
or whether not to discriminate by a higher earned
justice learned from the kindness showered
on animals...

spieglein spieglein!

ooh... i needed that break from that autobiographic
outburst... and as the maxim states:
by the sweat of your brows you will earn a living...
funny that... writing is hardly any hard-lifting...
but i'm drinking and sweating like a mad-pig
from my armpits...

the internet... hmm...
one sample of tracing my footsteps back...
Tantalus < Human Sacrifice < Annual Customs
of Dahomey < the Kingdom of Dahomey...
this is me... going backward...
i just overheard someone mention...
the Kingdom of Dahomey...
   and king Ghezo...

                             now... physiology...
all these massive basketball players... currently living
in America... hold on hold... on...
Europeans did what?
go around Africa and catch these specimen?
really? what good is a slave if maimed by a bullet wound?!
hmm...  what i was thinking all along...
Africans ******* Africans over
just like Europeans ******* Europeans over...
same shift... different story...
nothing new...
              so there were these people in Western Africa
that used to hunt for slaves...
and sell them off to traders... and... let's face it...
every trade-person is an impartial person...
money is not the coinage of spirit: thought...
ideas are...
                   we exchange ideas like we exchange
money: but in disparaging circumstances...
point being... i arrived at finding about the myth of
Tantalus...

        that's the beauty of the internet...
you might be looking for something: then again not looking
for anything...
coupled with reading a book...
Tantalus...
             Ovid's Amores: book 2 poem 2...
hey presto! Tantalus appears!
loose talk left Tantalus thirsty for ever
though up to his neck in water, clutching at fruit
always out of his reach


             well then... the beauty of the internet...
you get to build tunnels... cognitive tunnels: they are...
but... but there's also the automated filtering process...
i don't celebrate my work... i don't allow it to reach
advertisement status... i don't censor...
i filter... zeit ist die nur essenz...
              während weltraum: etwas das
                             unterhalt selbst...
wir ar entwender sklaven zu zeit
     oder seine eskapisten...

time is the only essence...
while space: something that upkeeps itself...
we are either slaves to time
or its escapists!

then again: i did start thinking about pre-historic
escapism as most associated with
English Darwinists...
those adamant creatures who find it absolutely
necessary to find the ontology: of a man without history:
a man without memory...
strange creatures... like most English thinking is...
don't get me wrong... it's very practical thinking...
ergonomic... egalitarian... soft-spoken words
to replace the pan-Slavic experiment of Communism...

that's ******* dangerous...
and what's the alternative? is there an alternative?
the English intellect invented
ergonomics and egalitarianism to counter
Communism...
               but it also invested itself in pre-history /
post-history... the ontology of:
prior to any recorded history... there was this
ontolology of APES...
i don't even think Copernicus could have
envisioned such widespread corruption of a simple
idea: nature abhors vacuums...
vacuums are filled by adaptation...

  i blame the mutation of Darwinism on the current
zeitgeist-narrative...
   no history? no history?!
          no ******* wonder i'm fleeing into foreign
languages... i've tested my thoughts on German...
i'm testing my thoughts on Russian...
i have this special case i need to test / write out...
i'm not staying: i'm fleeing...
but i'll be fleeing in a way that a violin
player is fleeing the sinking Titanic...

i need more drink to write this bit...
after all... i'm "changing glasses"...
i'm about to roam around the cheapest version
of Greek...
                       Darwinistic anti-historical pre-historical
ontology... i remember winters of such an abundence
of snow that you will never know...
i ******* hate climate-change-sceptics...
it's too hot!
        it's, too, *******, hot!
                             scepticism is not some *******
NEU-KOOL...
              BONKERS... no! neit! nein! nie!
i don't need lobster-people parading with
suntans... telling me: yeah: br'uh... all good...
like **** it is...
i hate these climate sceptics...
like i hate these Hitchen's era atheist...
sensible people my ****... my ****...

my feet are sticky... my brain is fried...
                     sure sure... let's just "rephrase" our next
no-new position comes the next year's flooding...

what the **** happened to:
CAUSE & EFFECT?!
                     physics isn't working?!
rules of physics somehow awry?"
                    hammer not good for nails?!
THIS IS WHY I DRINK...
i drink to contain my rage...
           but i also drink to fuse with it...
a writing ambition that...
will not be recognised... because:
zeitgeistnarrativ...
people need to hear what they are used to /
what they want...

****'s sake... with these climate change scpetics there's
no physics principle of: X causes Y...
ergo Y causes YX... ergo YX cause XY...
ergo... there's a ******* Z!
better explained?
   x causes y.. no! y doesn't cause x!
it's not a closed-case sceanario... you ****** g dim-wit!

dimmy dumb dimmy dumb wit!
ugh meister fantastisch spinster
   herr spinster: spaghettilockenwickler:
mampfenhausherr!

      hell is a fury that man obeys!
hell is a fury that a man obeys:
because... he inacts its tides...
selfish women discard hell's compensation
for personal gains...
best to spread the fury...
it has been... a long wait...
but worthwhile...
                            wahnhaft?!
                                           wer ist nicht?!

ten kto miał spać... i ten kto miał: wstać...
i ten kto miał spać... i ten kto miał: wstać...
i ten: kto został "zaspany":
  i ten kto ten kto nigdy się nidgy nie
obudził...
           i ten... komu zerk na "co to?":
dodało: nad-skupieninie:
ojra... ojra: coś nie tak!
o kurwa... hyba coś nie tak!

me? i'm looking at these two Russian
letters...
and then looking at these Latin transformations...

Спокойная ночь: spokojnaja no-
             hmm... exactly!
exactly? peaceful night!
but that's not my "beef"...
    J is replaced with Y...
                          since there's no Jeep in *****...
or therefore a DZ... dz = j....

                                     exactly: German folk songs
for drinking... gearing up to writing
while listening to some Russian agnst...
and i've just found... the second artist
in the Russian tongue that appeals to me...
first things first... Faun's Lorelei to get drunk and proper
"stammered" in order to better write...
that's that... but then... something from Russia:

to think...
                            i was lucky enough to... and not so lucky
to have had a Russian girlfriend...
lucky to have visited St. Petersburg and Moscow
but sort of unlucky to see in her cousin's face
that she was cheating on me...
i liked drinking with him: beer and dried fish...
talking about music and history...
i knew what his face was telling me...
he was sad that he knew she was having a French-fling
of two-boys one girl...
i hope i came across to suggest to him:
you know... i have been with prostitutes...
she over-estimates her worth, you do know: that i know that,
right?
i'm only here for St. Petersburg and for Moscow
and for the *****... the beer and the dried fish
that's such a better accomplishment to match
up with beer than peanuts...
you do know that i know she's ******* around?
but let me tell you: just one night...
i'll **** her brains out... i'll turn into a miner and
build a tunnel into her ego so that she remembers
me proper... oh don't worry... this narrative will only
come to be some years later...
i'll need to reflect for years before i realise
what my unconscious was instinctively planning:

good luck trying to be a tourist in Russia these
days... ha ha...
i was already out of the door come the moment
she wanted to turn my long hair into dreadlocks
and wanted to tattoo me...
i knew it was a short escapade: a gentle run
rather than a marathon...
the best part was: when she introduced me to her
grandmother: telling me it was her mother...
and we went to dinner: she introduced her mother
as her sister... and her father as her "uncle"...
she was trying to hide so bad that i was a ******...
a Russian girl?! dating a ****** boy?!
mein gott!                       it's only years later that
i'm drinking this fine wine of memory
in the form of ms. amber (whiskey)...

                   oh for more of these love complications
on grounds of ethnicity: race-baiting?
too ******* obvious: the Germanic peoples can play
that duty to the "universe"...
i like the subtle queues...

i can just imagine if this affair went west...
if i dated a proper: milchfräulein!
i'd be like: wild-eyed: did your grandpa secetectly
stash a SS-uniform in secret? can i see it?
can i wear it? wait... wait... i need to see the Turk
first... my barber... i can't put it on without
being properly trimmed...
does he? does he?
                                           ah ha ha...

i think schwarz suits me...
although i much prefer
grün und braun shades of clothes...
                           nothing jeans related... suits me...

it became one of those relationships that's best
not have had... best remembered like
the heat-wave of 2022...
i... ******* cycled through the village of Wellington...
i know the area... it's local... well...
as a cyclist it's local... thereabouts to Rainham...
there's this land-fill site near by...
there's the Cold-Harbour...
  when the Thames spreads her "legs" / tide...
i know the area... ******* grass fires?
  you're kidding me...
   i abhor climate sceptics like i abhor atheists...

do i look like a: ffff-ucking camel jockey?!
some influencer girl staging the pride of her buttocks
before some hotel in Dubai?
i hate people who adhere to the heat...
i know that when the mob comes after them
i'll be peddling...
              i'll be licking my wounds...
i'll be writing: sure... not having sweat from my brows:
but from my underarm pits...
at this point i abhore the arrogant-denial
of the sceptics...
                             because this is the workings of bad-faith...
and bad-faith begins with advocating
the adamancy of denial...
                  these ffff-ucking idiots need
another year... perhaps two...
before they change their minds about saying
things like: oh... media frenzy!
   this feels like just another summer!

really?
  really?!
              what happened to me today?
i woke up... in a 180° position to the one i fell asleep in...
i rotated... 180°... how? how does a body rotate
180° while asleep... lying next to a table...
sure... i took down a chair...
but... this is the UNCONSCIOUS speaking:
this is the COLLECCTIVE UNCONSCIOUS speaking
to individuals in their UNCONSCIOUS....
i ffff-ucking rotated 180° in my sleep!

that's not a ******* problem?!
fair enough... let idiots breed...
I DON'T CARE...
I'M NOT ALLOWED TO CARE...
I DON'T CARE...
DAARWINISM EXPOSED A MAN BADLY
DAMAGED BY ALLOWANCES OF AN ONTOLOGY
OF A PRE-HISTORY: AN ANTI-THESIS OF CONTINUITY
OF PRE-HISTORY: BY VARIATION OF SOME "MAGIC!"
SOME MAGIC MONKEY JUGGLING...

no! nein! neit! nie!

       come to "think" of it...
    Communism... the whole Pan-Slavic movement...
i'd like to "think" a little about the letters...
about... the crab-bucket... mentality of "losers"
of capitalism...
these... adherent wastes of time for people
that... want to work...
                  these people that should be readied
for an arbeit mach freit... scrutiny...
the excuses some people give them...
i've never been allowed excuses...
i was either good at my work or **** at it...
but some of these people have been given
too many excuses: based on their race:
get rid of them...
                 how does the verse work?
employ him because X...
well then... get rid of him based on Y...
lazy ******* best starve...
                        
    oh this cruel world... crueler Siberia...
i'm supposed to do the work of lazy Chimera's
of "man"?
                  
Спокойная ночь... bothers me...
esp. when reiterating in Latin...
      й = J = Y...
                  hmm... чь: ć
                               what's чъ?!
      but that's already arrived at!
                                  чъ = č ...

night?                      нoц! noc! night!

                    what's the ******* deal with
the Cyrillic trinity of ь ъ & ы?

                                         "soft": acute?
"hard": caron?
                         but a "soft" is already incorporated
within the noun concerning NIGHT...
at the same time it's not necessary...
that's why for a ******...
Russian is under-formed...

   нoц... contra ночь...
           because? the latter implies:
  when heard: never to be unheard:
   noć...
                      no... not noć...
not ******* nocz / noč...
                      нoц: noc! nacht!

***: *******: BAJA... bajka!
                     you confusing idiots... Chinese separatists
of Beijing...
ъ, ы, ь, ю, я, y living in make-shift *****-lands...

gorąc...
                  gorąц...
                                    na mej głowie...
to tło... szumu... i idiotyzmu...
      this: this entire world is coming to the smallest
portion of the world for: "debriefing":
about being the the antagonist...

  **** it... i'm siding with the Russians...
i don't care...
                      i don't care because i don't care...
i'm siding with the Russians...
at least they have some existential sanity
left in them...
                it's very much unlike siding with
**** Germany most associated with
the Croats...
this is... a civiliation-state scenario...
this is Darwinism in its advent of foreplay...
i'm curating foreplay...
people are so blind... as individuals...

do i look like wanting to **** black women?
ergo... all the poly-racial ****... is... what?
something i might want to keep... or... burn?
i could never appreciate the idiocy of some people...
but? i'm currently having to adapt....
because... people have beccome better than their own
predictions.
Mateuš Conrad Dec 2021
my god, what am i going to do about Monday morning,
that coffee date?
sure as ****, Sherlock... you'll go to the Turk
for a beard trim, either either tomorrow or
over the weekend...
you'll make this weekend epic...
you'll cycle to either central London
or to Epping... either trip...
you'll do more push-ups... you'll lift some extra
weights... beef up... puff up...
you'll do that...
you'll also think about how you'll spend
your first earned money.... in a long long time...
sure... i'll spend it in a brothel...
i don't gamble: lucky... it's not like i have
*** regularly... it's worth spending money
on art galleries, brothels... alcohol...
after coffee, oh she wanted to meet up:
i know why... 10 or so scrambled messages later:
you have a physical copy of your book?
i have a physical copy of my book?!
it's not merely a pdf file?
it's not merely a pdf file?!
oh, right, right... yeah...
no wonder she wanted to meet up for coffee...
it will seriously take a miracle
for me to become loved up like the teenager
i once was available / able to...
who knows...
   my heart is hardened... yet it's not forever lost...
it will take a miracle...
it would probably require dating a woman
with a child... whereby i could turn my affection
onto the child, rather than stress it for a woman...
that would be so much easier...
a bit like petting a cat... i think loving a child
unconditionally would be so much more easier
than loving a woman within the confines of her...
ahem... expectations... conditions...
yet somehow still "unconditionally":
what a load of *******! seriously...
i was feeling slightly existed, slightly stressed...
hell... one stone, four birds...
took a **** while taking a **** while jerking off
while subsequently taking a shower...
on the throne of thrones... later to the sea of Galilee for
my "baptism"...
me... at the brothel...
what do i see? the worst kind of *******...
honest to god, is it really this easy these days?
this simp: cough up dough?
for what?! a picture?!
no touchy-feely... no *******?!
no feel of the *******... no sniffing of the hair?
no conversation face to face?!
are we talking about men... or ******* pseudo-eunuchs?!
at least eunuchs were put in charge
of the Ottoman harems...

i pay for what i can get... i'm not paying for some
****** video of a girl ******* of showing
off her ****, her vaginal region...
i'm paying for the entire body,
i rub my finger-tips prior to entry to the brothel
against concrete, to rough them up...
to subsequently touch something... soft...

and with the current climate, socio-political and
what not...
oh... oooh... some of us diagnoses as having
a psychotic disorder, complex...
diagnoses as schizophrenic...
how we wait for the S.J.W's...
i'm gagging for some blood sports...
the whole victimhood mentality:
i'm waiting...

over 10 ******* years in a de profundis hell-hole...
no help... helped myself...
i feel... resurrected...
no friends... friends ****** off... **** 'em...
better for them that they did...
better for me...
i could become myself...
will i leave traces of being an arrogant ****?
of course i will... did i break any law?
last time i was hand-cuffed was for *******
in an alleyway...
the police-officer cuffed me, shouted at me...
arrogant little *****...
a female officer was noting it all down...
i was un-cuffed and waked home
scot-free...

oh **** me: i'm charged... my heart is raging...
if the coffee is not enough,
where to? no, not a gallery...
i'll tell her: Havering County Park...
SEQUOIAS... over 100 example of these
gentle giants... just off Havering-atte-Bower...
a village that remembers days prior
to the Hastings invasion...
i guess i'd think about ******* her in the woods
all the ****** time...

perhaps she's like me...
she like the smell of horseshit in the morning...
perhaps she likes the scent of... frost...
an entourage of trees... mud...
sickly sweet mush of...
the gravity of winter... the exiled insects...

ooh... in this little dynamic of victimhood...
where do i lie, on the spectrum?
will they come after a schizoid?
these femnist-fashists?
these trans-gender critical-race-theory
inclusivity coaches?
after a schizoid?
oh... little ol' me thinking that we're off-limits...
i have reached a pinnacle,
now i just hallucinate my name...
when i do... it feels like the wind is speaking...
it's actually very pleasant...
i become doubly aware...

it really wasn't a mistake having to take 2 years off of
my 20s to read Heidegger's Sein und Zeit...
working as a steward at public events...
believe me... dasein?! being: there...
i know where i'm supposedly to be...
i have an added focus...
                my role is only minor...
but it's the optics...
i look the part... and... oddly enough... people
respect me for me looking the part...
i'm not a manager...
i'm just a pawn... but... like Louis XIV said...
appearances guide all fathom-ability
of undercurrents... non-verbatim...

that word should not exist as a hyphen compounding...
fathom-ability ought to be one...
are these English ******* going to keep up with
their forefathers, the Swabians, the Pomeranians...
or are we going to get more of this...
*******... shrapnel?!
conjunctions, definite / indefinite articles...
personal, huh?! pronouns?!
you sick or something, or just ******* *******?!

it truly takes a supposed madman to tell all
the supposed sane people to:
get the **** back in line... to return to a collective
sensibility, to stop appealing to
the irritations of minorities...
no... i'm done...
i'm not here to entertain one minority status
above another minority status...
i guess the S.J.W.s "forgot" to fight for the rights
of... people like us... diagnosed as schizophrenics...
sorry... did you forget?!

i'm not even role-playing... i'm prescribed not working
more than 16 hours a week...
although... i could kick-*** for about 15 hours more...

from under the yoke of ******,
from under the yoke of Communism:
and those ******* Russians...
to... ahem... this?
letf-oids?

*******: hälftenmenschen...
no... not half-people: no, not halbmenschen...
halves-people...
i already employed a verb within the confines
of the noun...
love received: is the love given...
if i'm to be deemed schizoid:
above bilingual... love received:
is the love given... simple, no?

godsmack: awake...
i just want to trap this one little... fly of a lefty
in my architecture of a web...
then again... being a spider is no fun...
this one little rabbit... a dark forest:
and i am a fox... ewignacht!
dehnbarschatten!

       erweitert pupille: ich sehen!
blut mischen mit adrenalin!
   ja! freude! energie! zweck und arbeit!
ja!

bring them my way... i want to eat something...
ich wollen zu schmausen!
(itchy teeth) juckendzähne!

my archetype? Diogenes of Sinope,
i love people...
love them to bits...
esp. when... they don't engage in
giving me their.... ******* opinions!
come one minute, gone
the next!

- guess what, though...
they want to ask me about diacritical
marks in Latin,
Haguel (south korean)....
katakana "vs." hiragana?
sure, i'll reply...
but not here, not now....
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2020
chem. soup brain... or Brian...
no song of no more new to come,
no new song of all that's to come,
no bride of either westminster
or wandsworth or walthamstow...
not within the confines
of the ****- burnings of the dolphin
skins of the yorkie-pies
of the ol' shire... coal-mined veins
from no, to no lesser Silesia...
among the Picts... dear widow
of London that's the current spirit
of lemon-suckling brine?!
oh my dear, what no aloof...
shying from the haggis, from the neeps!
the tatties!
and the myth of the deep frier
marzipan...
the fidget of the fudge explorers
of the Rhine of Yer **** Messieurs!
come to think of it...
i came to england as a fleabag of
eastern europe with a nietzschean moustashe
i borrowed and burrowed from and into
my father dear...
but when in SCOTland...
i arrived as a Dane...
this beyond past comparison arrival
willing to... **** a lass beside her senses
and her geography...
and in that... all was made sane...
because i see no reason to believe
these metropolitan daughters and sons
of fairies...
should they still exalt the ghost
of shakespeare...
and his art a mode of transcendence...
when all his works require!
actors!
the gob and goblet with my tongue
pickled in it like
the body of frederick barbarossa
arriving at Jerusalem...
London: the Salem of my Trials...
will ever and forver old Burns make
a speech: to later sigh...
because the English girls from Leicester
and Norwich arriving in Loon'don
will make it plain and far...
we from the foreign lands:
from the countrtyside will but and but
and but some more!
dear starlings pure... please! recite me some
of your love of Shakespeare:
as long as it rhymes... it's poetics;
ticks... those lesser tapeworms off...
here's a better terminology concerning
a cow-bell... roy orbison will never be allowed
to reign over the status of a black sabbath riff...
but...
he has the rest... nazareth and...
flea of the dog...
royal scots dragoons: this unison of
a non-continental aspect of land...
these isles...
and the english swans these english girls
will have to return,
cite their sonnets and never lend themselves
to "anecdotes" from the plays...
what did i say?
it is worth as much a misnomer
as it is worth a metaphor...
because for all of Shakespeare's worth...
he too would gladly rest,
his final sentiment via Bach's rolling technique...
should it be, when it is already well known...
no one recites a sonnet by a Shakespeare
when old Hogmanay is over...
when St. Sylvester's is celebrated...
and never this, very english... cold-ce
firecracker fore-warning the:
part and parcle of Guy Fawkes' night
of toy-terror...

what words and what words aren't...
and then those words better sung?
of never have,
of never heave...
of never baron over: of never "steve"
(stephen's claim and rite)...

so much for Shakespeare's sonnets...
when come new year's eve
and all that resounds...
is auld lang syne...
and all sing to embrace...
and none sign to what's...
nonetheless later sung...

was man ever to fathom being
so disillusioned to early...
to early as to catch a prosper from
the scent of thyme?
i can't stomach the recitations
of Shakespeare...
they sound to me like a clogged toilet...
i do not require a new recitation...
i require the proper reincarnation
plumber for this gobshite blockage
of what doesn't require to be ******* out:
re- again re- again re- again
and once more until another ted hughes
calls it: an "event at Wimbledon"...

**** it... yes... it was Primrose Hill...
unlucky for me... the Prussians never made it
into the Polish-Lithuanian commonwealth...
nor was there a deluge to recount
on the canvas of a Bayeux Tapestry....
but sure as Sherlock ******* Holmes knows
his Watson...
cite and recite all the Shakespeare pedagogy
all you want...
the man would prefer rotten cabbages
to be thrown at the stage than having to endure
the immortality of a Bach...
esp. when... the words of a scotman are
sung come the eve of a new year's day...

by abide the Roud Folk Song Index...
this poo'em will too, not disappear as frequently
as the next to "new" viral video...

if only i wandered as far among
the Welsh... perhaps...
among the Richards of Little Ireland
and all the clever deargfriochta!

what's there to compensate with?
Southend... Colchester... Clapham Junction...
Prince Irvine of Clemence & Chelmsford...
epilogue of Epping -
as glutton Loon'don and...
fair well... bride Bethlem...

a song to not having parted...
a song to not heaved a last farewell...
a song for yesterday...
a song for: everyday!
a song for the domesticated dog...
and never the abides of a lost
leash that also calls itself a dog in horse-ridden
stirrups!
a song to bypass Leicester,
Doncaster, Newcastle, Carisle and...
the lesser domains of Hadrian's scare...
those BIG in domine dominos of history...

my putrid lot to have to remind...
it's not Shakespeare that's sung...
come the advent of anewed...
bubonic Edinburgh...
or how the first skyscrapers were born...
how the first bridges were raised
over no river or any manner
of a body of water...
how i came across my first
scottish "witch" and even if she was
the 2nd or 3rd Fiona...
i didn't fall in love with her...

old clinginess of a mythological Kiev...
somewhere between
Warsaw and Moscow...
yet again... it would have been
better that i return to the squalor of...
forget me to remember:
London 20th century 90s and 80s.
Mateuš Conrad Dec 2021
i sometimes spend the first 30 minutes
of s drinking sessions
ingesting bachelor videos...
men's opinions about women...
i have to grant some, perhaps almost all
observational pointers,
come to think of it: i think for a while
about a dialectical approach...
on such subjects i don't really want to
have an opinion...
like: i don't want to be famous:
i want to be left alone...
so i listen... opinion X and opinion Y...
sure, could have one,
but i... am... sort of lacking...
investing in opinions,
that will later not be dialectically
scrutinised, what's the point?
too many unnecessary feels...
most people cower from their original
opinion to begin with,
when push comes to shove,
or when shove comes to a clenched fist...
my life doesn't revolve around
staging a snippet of some *******
Mexican / English soap-opera...
my use of the internet it simple:
1. listen to some music
2. check the encyclopedia
3. doodle something, equivalent to this
4. email someone
5. complete some form
6. buy a book, or a CD / vinyl
7. check the dictionary
8. look at pictures of myself:
i've "recently" lost a sixth of me...
down from 120kg to 97kg...
like i told my neighbour,
i'm very much like a vampire...
of course i see myself in a mirror,
but i really don't...
sure... if i were to go to the nurse,
she wold check my blood-pressure...
no more dizziness...
i had two options: lose weight...
or be put on some high blood-pressure
tablets, **** the second part...
no more pills...
it's enough that i mix a knock-out
punch with some whiskey, some cider,
some naproxen, some phenergan...
some APAP...
oh, quiet the contrary, i'm not sedated by
alcohol... i'm soothed:
not exactly pushing a cube through
a square hole in the wall...
when comparing the words: sedated vs.
soothed...
i need a chemical knock-out
to find release from a vibrating mind...
that's of course if i start writing...
i need an opt-out scenario...
what points have i already mentioned, are there 8?
9. checking general information,
perhaps some news, but i rather like my
cul de sac existence, so i rarely bother
about being informed, unless
10. TfL... train times, esp. concerning Sundays
and holidays
11. maps, i sometimes ride my bicycle
into Essex countryside, completely
forgetting where Epping or Theydon Bois
is placed... oh, right, i'm "here"?!

o.k., these bachelor videos...
m.g.t.o.w. or whatever: read some Kierkegaard,
who the hell composed the music
for the Giselle ballet?
           Adolphe Adam, Theophile Gautier,
Jean Coralli?!

so i listen to their videos... eh... easy listening...
men talking to men...
it could be worse:
it could be... getting dating advice from women...
that's why i prefer exchanging
messages with older women...
in their 50s... 40s...
60s is sort of stretching it...
come on...

that taboo of teenage girls is a flimsy fantasy...
it's ****** at first, at first, prior to them opening their
mouths... of course the debate concerning
outliers and Humbert Humbert...
ha ha... catch-22... major major... anyways...
sure, there are outliers...
like i acknowledge the existence of nymphomaniacs...
for a split second i was going
to turn ol' Humbert into: Herbert Herbert...

i'm out, Pontius Pilate style...
i have washed my hands clean from this whole
"affair"... speak to older women whenever online,
don't engage in the comment section
on any item you're ingesting...
why would i stop myself being from
being the passive reader, spectator,
why do i need those 2 cents of "thought"...
of opinion...
and... just ******* to the brothel...
if *** is what you want...
the clarity of a monetary exchange...
no dating...
oh, sure... i remember going on a date once...
we were both 18...
i paid for her gallery ticket,
since i invited her,
but he later went to the cinema,
she paid for herself,
then for some Japanese food...
she split the bill with me...
we weren't dating prior... just high school-friends...

this other date i was on...
we were "dating"... well... it was more like...
she was a first year university student
living with other girls in student accommodation,
i was a third year student with a flat i shared with
only one guy... what was his name...
Tristan! from Bristol, a math major:
a complete brood... some German lineage:
go figure... a half-German
and a fully-blooded ****** living under
the same roof... "complications"...

look at her go... now that i think of it...
she moves it... she has escalated her worth by getting
out of student accommodation,
she moves into a flat on Montague St.,
because... as time passes by, the candles did their magic...
she can give decent head...
we go to St. Petersburg, see Metallica in Moscow...
i return to London, she remains in Edinburgh...

with all the women i was ever with...
all managed to break up with me prior to me
even whispering that i might...
thank god that none of these relationships lasted
per annum... just a few months of my life:
lost...

now... older women on the internet...
and prostitutes...
at least i know what i'm buying...
i'm hardly going to buy a girl dinner...
if i'm not assured some... extra...
like a Chinese fortune cookie peek...
so i listen to these bachelor videos...
"misogyny" etc. again:
like the minorities... throwing words against
the wind, so frivolously...
i am the minority, how many Polacks
live in England?!
like my training suggested:
not all disabilities are visible...
most Arabs+ confuse my physiognomy with
that of a German...
hmm... i can use this...
if i look like a German: even to my fellow Polacks...
if they can't identify as one of "their own":
great... i can merge into this phenomenon
of how the entire world seems to have
congregated on these little isles...

- i wish i had the concerns of the natives,
what are they? being undermined
demographically, what else?
i'm pretty sure the story goes...
even though Britain staged:
we will make war on Germany for invading Poland...
funny, that... it took both Germany
and the Soviet union (35 days)
to completely subjugate Poland during the theatre
of the second world war...
1 September 1939 – 6 October 1939...
but it took the Germans: alone...
6, *******, 6 weeks to subjugate
France (and the little ******* extensions of
the Benelux)
10 May – 25 June 1940 (6 weeks)....
if the current climate of, ahem... "discussion" is anything
to go by, or pretend to go fishing....
like **** i will: unless we're hunting rather than
fishing for whale...
killing off an Estonian elephant (a mammoth)...

easily: the French **** welcomes the ZZ-top
SS-mensch(en)... who attired them?
no, it wasn't Gucci... it might have been
Chanel... Hugo! *******! Boss!
yeah, how could you ever make
khaki ***** into uniform somehow bearable...
beyond me...

from under the iron curtain to now, "this"...
sorry, i'm not going to comply...
trans-genderism with flaky transcendentalism...
sorry, what?!
you can only do so much within the confines
of a metaphor, within the certification
of metaphysics,
three directions... meta-physics...
trans-whatever...
ortho-graphy... English is a language with no
knowledge of implementing orthographical
critique: it, does, not, employ, any,
diacritical, markers! the end!

all that English has to replace a study of orthography
is, the para-avenue...
Charlie ****-sense might have glorified a spelling
mistake by citing the term orthography...
poor Charlie D...
oh my god... i'm pumped!
it's what ******* might have felt working his way around
a genesis of a blank canvas...
me, i just have sounds... but i'm not encoding music:
i'm translating meaning...

i'm not even translation two languages
etymologically apart...
i'm translating language in order for it to be written
to begin with...

some other point... why i use the internet..
i listen to some of these bachelor videos,
but then i have to step back...
get completely pummeled,
become pulverised, become almost deaf with
music that's the antithesis adhesive of
someone talking... lately?
COMBICHRIST: all pain is gone,
   sent to destroy, never surrender...

12. looking for "googlewhacks"... mostly those i can invest
in as secondary search results...
13.  what the ****'s a "13"?
if ever, summon an elf: + / ?
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2021
we did it in the bath, we did it before a mirror... i guess we only didn't do it outdoors - only because... a swan at Loch Lomond turned us off...

that these have to be little autobiographical
sketches: for starters...

a life of no real consequence:
if i were magically thrown back in time
and allowed to bring
with me a book of plagiarisms
i.e. - so that i might be ascribed
the penmanship of a Descartes... etc.


i think i'd still only (bring): avec et seul moi...
i sometimes wish i bothered
to learn Fwench...
since Italian and Spanish were
never too much appealing to begin
with... only the deutschezunge could
have harrowed me more for
an impetus to learn...

acquisition of English was what it was...
thrown into the deep end...
learn the language, ******... or sink...
some prior knowledge via
cartoon network...
but not enough to have to remember...
the "joke" on my way
to the local swimming pool...
how puma: wasn't 'poo-mah'
but somehow 'pew-mah'...
****'s sake... if i wrote down phonetically
how i said something "wrong"...
the it would look like: pjuma...

i can't escape some escapades of life
so daft that i do remember me,
Peter Richardson, Kieran O'Mahoney
and what Ilford & South Park were like
come Saturday's afternoons...
like... having to hold your breath
when walking in between
the "batty man's legs"...
a road sign with two stilts...

most people don't have the energy to
write about such trivial matters...
i'm holding back a few details with
regards to Peter and Kieran...
as you do: for the cinema of memory
has served me well and enough: truly...
the time South Park closed and we were
rummaging in it after hours
like dwarfs of sort
and had to climb over the fence...
Kieran being overweight...
me and Peter managed as i remember
my youth was spent climbing trees...
but Kieran of course had to
mistime jumping over the fence
and managed to almost impale himself
on the fence... lucky for him it was by his
underwear...

truly life is too sweet to write about
such things...
best reserved for memory:
the cinema -esqueness of the project...
  
- i like the clarity presented after
the most timid resort to exercise...
making a journey that would otherwise
take 30 minutes +
via walking for a bottle of whiskey
in a peacock's tail sort of... enterprise
of running, walking fast...
gurgling excess phlegm... spitting it out...
harking aback... almost barking...

i abhor running... a pointless task...
no wonder i started to yawn
from walking... the initial project
dealt with... from circa 120kg down to 104kg
in under circa 3 months...
no more weight loss...
something more was required to push
the weight down to under 100kg...
so i could... remember how it felt
to walk down the road and
have eyes of the opposite ***
insinuate: fuckable...
i wouldn't really demand the 3-dimensional
version of the other traits
that come, necessarily with the load:

a life that's nothing more than
time loaned...
  once i spent ~£400 in a brothel...
     over 3 hours having asked a bank manager
for an increase in my overdraft limit...
faking a funeral... extra expenses: no one died...
so much so that at one point
i was asked whether or not i'd like
a ******* because i already exhausted
three... and maybe ******* twice:
but you never know when
you pull back your *******
and the "helmet" is purple-gleeful
like a bishops' parade blah blah
because that's all that love isn't
which is no bees, no butterflies...
just oysters, flowers... bourbon... octopus /
Hindu deities...
- and to think... the day my libido dies
and the day it dies and it wasn't...
mummified in something monogamous...
it wasn't trialled...
best of all... jazz hands...
executed by an imitation 'gina
       ever since one side: that did all the *******
would bellow: oh no... the women don't...
deer in headlights...
well if it is all "there" but there's no...
outlet...

- 3 to 7 working days for the delivery
of a...
    Trek Marlin 5 hardtail...
       and i guess i don't want to sleep because...
exciting thoughts...
a clarity of placing the body
on the rack of exertion...
or rather a change in perspective...
the distance covered via walking...
a marathon in under 7 hours...
from somewhere in the vicinity of
the greater london outstretch nibbling at Essex...
toward St. Paul's cathedral... and back...
but done... from the perspective of a bicycle...
or from said starter coordinates
toward Epping...

no point keeping this imagination timid...
a thought concerning...
Canvey Island... apparently anything on
a bicycle is... doable...
most certainly... yes... doubly doable...
the image strikes me
from the perspective of walking...
the great involvement of the dimension
of speed... which... in all honesty...
doesn't exist within the confines
of walking... unless of course days turn
into weeks and weeks into months
but man, not this man...
has that many allowances for leisure
of that sort...

some impeding "doom": or rather...
a trial of the wait per se...
even though: no clue as to why i'd wait
for the otherwise inevitable...

conversations in the night:
protection via the sphinxes...
toothless head turned into bull horns
chisel, ram, chisel...
that bonsai tigers have pupils
that have serpentine qualities...

oh to own a bicycle...
is almost like having authority of wind...
and all the flutes of the world...
my self-propelled mechanisation
of horse...
i sometimes wonder whether or not
horses are as friendly as people say they
are... after all...
a cat's bite or scratch is mostly self-invoked...
and thoroughly mea culpa proof...
but being thrown off
a horse's hind into a wheelchair...

paraplegic or whatever...
how friendly, how anything...
more care bound to befriending acorns...
clots of cloud... vinyl mistaken for
liquorice...
the whole shindig bedazzle frothing
at the mouth coup...

but a bicycle is remedy...
i can fathom it more than i'd ever want
to find use for a car...
perhaps a motorbike and all the zest of Zen...
but then from: wriggle worm
into a galloping gazelle
i'm a man that apparently walked...
will now have a second spine...
a variable of prosthetic extension
with no ghost limbs to mind...

well ******* on a whim wasn't readily available...
however much i tried not being
this: son of a mother
but in the grand scheme of things...
a detail of what's otherwise an abortion...
roulette femme...
by chance, by thieving...
by ******, alone...
by a butting in by some marker of solipsism...
by not appreciating anything
from orators akin to Seneca or Cicero...

one glorious **** and then i was out...
like a colt armed (with a) sharpshooter...
circa the months when i was 21...
****... now i'm coming to 35
and life... is still a stampede away
from Pompeii...
wasted or rather stalled...
i'm reaching into the depth
of shadow to find both dog and leash...
and all the other ***** toys...

****** and bicycles...
now it becomes self-evident... only now...
wish upon a star of lefty liberalism:
how does that comatose
spew of strict linear vocab-ulary go...
how everything is authentic... clarity prone...
locally sourced: teeming with
angel dust but never, at any posit of
required introspection... burdened by leeches
or mosquitos of the Christ metaphor
of slurping a bloodied loaf of: bwa...
of bread...

o.k. for now... marriage of oops
and bootlicking flukes...
dirt cradle and a hinterland of a hinterland...
hope for not having fake a day:
i.e. earned that deserving pause
of sleep: no dreams please... no dreams...
too many faces prop themselves up in
the juxtaposition of clouds
come the serenities of the night
that dreams... once cryptic...
by some standards of those who claim
to have found a new-architecture within them...

best without them...
        i would abhor waking up riddled...
i'll find something greying in obsolete come 4pm...
just after the children have made their route
sublime for an ease of breath...
from the school
of a posteriori and into the labyrinth
of a priori of home...
of inheritance "tax"...
              
yes... then and a somewhat stressed "now".
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2021
superficial overtones...
the Kaiser bites the *****: turns it sour
from all that saliva-glue...
and the French want to rekindle
the glory days of Charlemagne
go down with Napoleon's
overstretched ambitions into
overstepping into Russia...

but at least i tend to my conversational
overtones...
i don't like superficiality of
this love yet to be tasted:
yet so yawn: ah so tender...
give me three proper glugs
of southern comfort on ice
after roughly 4 hours
coming back to havering-atte-bower
doing a lap of hyde park...

and i'll tell you how weird
is feels cycling into central Loon'don
when once upon a time i'd take
the bus... the tube...
and use up some of my legs
in the labyrinth of Bank station...

honestly? cycling through London...
i thought it was much bigger...
the tube enlarges what's made
available...
what is 20+ miles to and back...
the flat serendipity of London
that's almost like the joys of tulips
and the Benelux...
you can cycle for miles...
of note: from Aldgate toward Stratford...
from Stratford to Ilford...
from Ilford to Chadwell Heath:

demon speeding, no other...
i almost wish to own a horse by now...
but then the symbiosis associate
with four legs trotting two legs
lagging, hanging down on the sides
of a torso...

it's unlike heading toward Southend on Sea
or into the nitty-gritty: rolling hills
of Essex via Epping...
plus the thrill of cycling through traffic...
cycling with objects that might torpedo me
to a death...
the thrill of the roundabout...
it's such a cerebral fatty-hard-on
to peddle...

           after all... 29" wheels and i cause
a stampede... of flutes torturing
carl Orff's O fortune: on wheels...
but of no concern...
"they" didn't leave their abode with
a Yiddish...
like they left-off burger-burning
and burning bridges of etymology like
they did in: Hamburg...
did they...

Russian didn't leave many words
for original maneuvering /
    manoeuvring (too many vowels)...
god no god: but the words are available...
those vowel siamese twins
of AE & OE.... one can understand SH
coming together for a crown (Š): caron...
to hide the lesser "goik"...

                /məˈnuːvə/ vs.
[muh-noo-ver]:
hands down... the british linguists heave more
rock of letters than their
h'american counterparts...
if... linguistic reiterations are to be minded...

all these 'postrophes and 'urds
and almost cockney shortenings are
to come to any fruition...
all these Scotch accents with not diacritical
marks all that but not Gaelic...
fine fine clause...
so... why do the Velsh still retain their
Çymru?

to hell with "getting to know" these
natives: sometimes...
ask a rock to move with telekinesis as probe!
blow up Mars... grief a life until retirement in
a swamp you could retract to eat
with it: by a magic wand...
turn into a stew!

yes yes... i heard "correctly"...
  
/təˈmɑːtəʊ/ vs. [tuh-mey-toh, -mah-]
vs. well yeah... katakana:
            トマト
            ポタト

don't get me started on the grand: Toe & Camel...
tow-may-toe...
yes... i get the choke "joke"...

- yore! the burger buns are: burning...
i'm halfway reciting my bob dilly-dan-dan
adventures and i've lacklustre sensations
concerning old age...
i shun it... on the shores
of the Faroe Isles i cling to a mythological
possession of a pebble...

to fathom a a cloud like an
apparition of a swan...
i will detail the youth we shared,
together...
over something akin to a Loch Lomond...
Glasgow begged us to yawn...

no "toe" in a katakana to:
no... "toy"...
it's either a: t'oh (ト)...
or a t'eh (テ)...

and this is what laughter looks
like in ol' ***'
(unlike a spanish giggle
of a german saying yesyesyes
quickly):
                  ハ ハ
                         ア ハ ハ
                                               ハ
                                                    ハ
i expected much more from
the natives: that they might known
their own tongue and its
"shortcomings"...
i truly did...

given they govern a "diaspora"
that's so well connected
and it's sunny in England
but raining toads
in the Vermont of the U.S. of A.
love for acronyms falls short...
no?

Marble Arch looks aplenty weird
when you can fathom the entire stretch of miles
without there being anything implicit of
of "automation"...
of junction...
it's not like me a Beckett with a tail
for a bicycle...
i'd like to see Paris, again...
on a bicycle...
it must feed such a shortening of
a... lessened inquest of interest...

        of course... came the conquest of idea:
enough clones are the a plenty...
of Islam... but there will always be this bothersome one
that will "think" and think it's otherwise...
there's always one and one is
enough to balance out a plethora of equations...

to conquer England is to have a Miami smile concerning
this fickle... bothersome: and "weather"...
to conquer England is to have a
mosque erected in Bradford... Luton...
their cuisine is superior, don' you think?
oh, wait... they are the blue 'indus:
the last mother superior 'inds...

         in the zunge of the natiff...
i too would think "otherwise":
they did have an arsenal of spices
greater than the nuke arsenal of
either the soviets or the h'americans..
we will be glad to be educated concerning
the use of cumin, coriander...
black cardamom bombs of pseudo-whiskey...

toe-may-***!
        tow-m'ah... tease!
                    a clarity of the syllable junctions...
like giving birth to time...
like collapsing into atom
for the purpose of spacing &
coordinating...
like the time Albert Fish stuck needles
into his pelvis before
being electrocuted...

and this might have been an event
to equal the raising of
the Eiffel Tower...
but then again...
if it wasn't the Eiffel...
and there was Albert Fish...
i'd probably remember the *******
fish-wed-lock
rather than...
the congregations of moi-mort-dans-haler...

giggle: at most: through the congregation
of the most, left, available....
these walking add-on abortions...
thee ***-less truant plays of
"lost harem" sods....
my eager ****** lust....
           last >  tréma oh:
   parabolique glisser....

           non! ici, je m'eh tie(n)(s):     (où)
          nein... hier:
ist
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2021
poza godziny: tzn.
   wypełnić dzień - dniem...

   too eager to retract "complexion"...
if that is even, remotely, available:
as a Caucasian standard...
return to my mutter-zung(e)...
some great migration
i'm guessing something borrowed
from history i'm guessing
the Copernican "revolution" had its zenith
now is the time of: everything vogue Darwin...

to find an hour in a day and do X -
the algebra notation
rather than the phonetic
i.e. xylophone for starters...
through the chalk-&-cheese grinder
sizzzzzzzle...
drone strike at the snore and snorkel...
unless... fax
me the details... it comes "last" or not
least "late"...
how sigma "behaves" or was
otherwise discovered
to be:
cedilla at some point...
     cursor...
            sNAKEs...
                      σN∀ʞƎς
                                        s'nay'x...

rather "unnecessary" but a must...
bothersome these strict barriers
and when / but when one returns
to the cascade of sounds
and what's to be said: sung...
thought & therefore seen...
i can forgo all the tux-juxtaposing
and a: dozen or so penguins...

bravado... one can try to read
a newspaper...
one does... one even uses this royal
****-off route to mind
what matters...
as an extension of
james marriott's book review...
i was a fan of jordan B peek-a-boo...
when all things in the wunder-land
of tubes: how was copperwire
invented? asked my glaswegian
english teacher? two scots arguing over
a penny... or a: PENCE - je pense!

newspapers have really taken a
hit for audience size, competition...
on the sideline you notice this...
"grief"...
what worked for the 20th century
propagandists... doesn't work now...
at all... no factions just... fractions...
and people in the congested
equation, somehow too...

it can be, or rather is, absolutely: unamusing that
one must have a mother...
for that matter - that there are two -
what with death being the second -
altogether: through and through -
unamusing and, or rather stringent:
      unmoveable shards of darkened ice...
at first that's about it...
        as one does when *** is a "waste"
or that ******* is something
    a typo for a metaphor for a misnomer
of what can't possibly be genocide -
or if it is: a solo project of an equivalence
that's met when...
scrubbing the dead skin parmesan
       off the soles of your feet...
    or having your hair cut...
          or engaging in grotesque pâtisserie...
i.e. pinching a loaf...
sitting on the... throne of thrones
for the holy trinity to congest the time...
frankly... there are not enough
hours in a day to
congest them with listening to
bbc radio 3...
i tried to cram as much radio 4
when in bed with a strict take on
a loss-of-shadow-hangover:
body as if a mollusc esque-form...
not borrowing from Kafka and yet...
glistening with a glitter and primordial
saliva gob-slob jacuzzi...
gurgle at every turn... gurgle-gurgle
and froth to ******: withs... bau-bau-bubbles...

but i'm thankful for the comparison:
and my own little life too...
little so little it doesn't dare to raise
notions of hierarchy...
that there is a hierarchy that's all
the better:
no one's moving up... no one's
moving down... plateau of plateaus...
but when i suckle at the bottle...
and it's a bottle of ink i can't spill
while i'm also drinking for a tease
of... teasing humour...
and i haven't written awhile...
while i pick up something grandiose
to experiment with... like...
bbc 3 will champion clarice lispector
but not machado de assis...

but agreed... what happened to
the "unread": i'll come dangling on
a hot-air balloon... screaming maxims...
first of most: or 'of all'...
i'll probably buy a bicycle and cover
those distances walked...
from havering-atte-bower
to... st. paul's cathedral...
coldharbour...
epping... in half the time it would
otherwise require me to tame
a marathon...

exemplar status... when i arrived in Paris
on my own i was not filled
with anything Stendhal likened imitation /
overbearing / copycat implicitness
(no implicity) -
         i exhaust the right to write more
than any of my drinking unfathomable
cruising through bottle and bottle:
message after message...
crab feet...
            giraffe necks...
scissor when expecting...
                           bamboo pincers... etc.

otherwise finally arrived at:
this "finally arrived" at
                dź (дь)
no vs. dż (дъ) otherwise...
what do i do with a "3":
                   эз: mind m'ah f'ez...
butter-fingers: deutsche! primo!
if my schnörkellos & butterfinger...
does you any harm...
crescendo + from the Urals
of the plural S... tomb of the vicinity-"victor"...

Paris... on the night of the Bataclan
stampede for bones, bruises,
tendons and sinew...
and offal... like... chicken heart...
chicken stomachs...
like that night when i was painting
my bedroom drenched in rose...
in chemical red
looking out for those mantis eyes
of lore like a bored
housewife of Pompeii...
before the irrittion
of the gods and the Huns...
drenched me with stuff all morbid
and splodgy...

suppose a ghost invites me to:
close a door...
suppose a door
suppose closure...
suppose the presupposition of...
****** theatrical null
and then a peacock of genesis...
a phoenix of exodus....

       a big chin 'arry delves into
structuring thinning...
who's a who who (a) what's already been given...
triptych on the buckle:
less hooves of horses charging
anti: against chaffs of wheat and more...
this sinking sensation requesting me
to make drown of all things
spec-tac-ular...

yonker: *****...
             mr. se(o)ul... his says...
says he:
           is any 'n' every...
Trafalgar Sq. presupposing
a Na-po-le-on...
to a somewhat... be...
well done.. boiling down:
the...         knuckles...
heave this limbo of cartilage :

oh i'm very much adapted
to...
insomnia
and "insomnia" libido too...

quake... nothing passes...
a biscuit might...
"crumble"...
a clown might poke fun
at making a...
"jellyface".
Hire purchase?
to get any purchase on the ground that's constantly shifting would be a bonus,

it's coming
the return of the purse snatcher
the cut-throat razor,

the targeted taser?
well,
that's for relaxation,

this country's the runt of the litter
it should be thrown out with the
bathwater,

they'll find the excuse for this
form of abuse.

jeers and cheers and profiteers,
seen your gas bill?
you will just before you faint.

I'm off to Epping
going to do me some logging
and make some emissions.

can't afford to live?
don't worry this isn't living
can't afford to die?
I'm doing a special on log pyres.
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2021
i grew up around the time when you'd still
want to watch movies...
that's not to say that Knives Out is a bad
movie... certainly not as quirky as
the Royal Tenenbaums...
it's actually watchable...
i get it... there are only a few actors
out there where their voices come prior
to their faces...
Gene Hackman... Jeremy Irons...
Jack Nicholson...
Cary Grant...Cate Blanchett... some other
notable mentions...
but i found out that: that i just don't have
the attention span to watch a movie...
i can barely make it through
an entire football match... but a movie?!
it's not like i've been hiding
a problem with a.d.h.d. -
3 hours cycling: i can digest... conquering
my mind: ****** it with my body
the route: in reverse: from Collier Row...
to Chigwell... Loughton... Buckhurst Hill...
shyly toward Wanstead and onto the straight
via teasing Manor Park...
Epping Forest is overrated... it's a swamp...
no sequoias...
i can concentrate on a book...
i'm still trying to resurrect my grandfather
to keep his dementia sacred
in repeating the same stories...
while i'd wake up at 5am in winter
and read a book...
why i still haven't read Rousseau is beyond
me...
seems i wasted reading on
Kierkegaard... or someone...
i'd love to watch a movie...
from beginning to end...
i'm keeping the Lighthouse stashed for some
proper timing...
shot in black & white...
well... it's not the Seventh Seal...
although... Bergman's movie about a magician
was far more entertaining than Wild Strawberries...
but "we" grew up in a time when
watching a film adaptation of
high fidelity was something...
when the record shop was Mecca...
i had a girlfriend for whom i made a mix-c.d. for...
she would go to work on Oxford St at
the Mark & Spencer and listen
to this one song i put on the disk...
King Crimson's Epitaph...
i guess Oxford St. at 6am in the morning:
on a sunny morning:
come to think of it:
even Dundee must look liveable when
the sun is shining...
this beautiful ****-up of a city
that's London... if i go somewhere monochromatic:
mono-ethnic i feel a sickness that's
never going to be comparable...
i need to suckle off this... Babylon...
we actually made mixed-c.d.s for each other...
thankfully it didn't become a relationship:
that tired "thing" of... paying taxes: naked...
raising children...
i've listened to the arguments
of men who married young...
my "secret weapon" blah blah...
what sort of man would i have become
if i didn't marry... early... or at all...
i can tell you what sort of man i have become...
i read some philosophy books...
i grew a beard...
i cut my long hair from a hippy monstrosity
into something that looks: up-kept:
respectable...
if i were 35 married with children...
i was dropped a phrase into the inbox
of my ex... i said: she had the saddest face on earth...
i forgot to mention ol' Henry VIII's struggles...
a meat-grinder... of a machine...
5 babies down... no sons... only daughters...
she grew-up in a household with a father
and two brothers...
it must be sad: i suggested...
to be so fertile... yet without a son...
she didn't get why i said she looked sad...
exhausted... from... pooping out
one daughter after another...
nothing to truly mould... no?
regrets... but today i'm oblivious to them...
i have a comfortable warming
blanket of whiskey & cognac...
it almost trickle a sense of sophistication for me
to deal with...
as much as i'd love to buy flowers...
a bouquet of a single pink rose...
let's not overdo the hopes of...
i rather be left intact & curious...
than... somehow barren & oddly: happy...
since melancholy is a statement
of the aura... it's fiddling with: nascence...
well... what a word:
i guess i'm immune to the woke-brigade...
if some are "woke": then i'm: slept...
or.. nascent...
but it can't go without "question":
******* virgins is a terrible idea...
the incel community shares the same
metaphor logic of Islam...
something about a gem in a shop that sells...
jewels... keeping the one pristine gem
intact... hidden...
but... aren't you... selling?
******* virgins is a terrible idea...
give me 72 i'd ask for
72 rottweilers primo...
                 king crimson: starless...
the phantom of the film... MANDY...
the neon demon was a disappointment...
the soundtrack wasn't...
oddly enough i know what ******* a ******
feels like... the cockerel shrinks...
needle... thread... what's being protected is...
a thin skin layer of cobweb...
takes enough practice to lubricate it...
why is purity somehow: so... circumstanced
as important?
they're not exactly Sri Lankan rubber
of bicycles wheels...
i've heard this saying once before:
in passing...
don't marry a very attractive woman..
and as i cycle i pass some examples of breeders...
most of the women are: utensils...
by standards of beauty...
such a waste... all the beautiful ones...
like flowers of every spring... like every generation:
go into prostitution or *******...
the last date i was on
happened after a night out in a club...
she thought...
in the park i downed a bottle of wine...
we went to a bar... i drank some more...
she lied about a prior engagement...
with some friends...
oh look... no convert...
i don't do dating... it's so...
stressing shadow...
                  one pink rose is enough...
if she isn't buying...
better a lubricated ****...
in praise of prostitutes...
                 we're naked: first... we're naked:
last... we keep it... gesticulating at our
desire for cleanliness...
why wouldn't i praise them?
second-hand... what-what?!
               who the **** is some don juan
looking for a nunnery?!
i'm looking for a woman
that might reveal a leather armchair!
might reveal: make alias revelling in it...
without: lies...
i abhor lies...
maybe that's why i adore prostitutes...
she could have slept within
the confines of Solomon's harem:
if... there were as many Solomons
as there were his concubines...
bitter-sweet... as much wisdom as is allowed...
Solomon had no edge over David...
can you write...
a maxim... when a psalm if dawning?

sure... it would be nice to be ******:
to be licked in the funny places...
but i rather churn my own raspberry ice-cream:
and have a concept of "friend": kept to a minimalist
concern...

Johnny Cash made a pact with
Mr. Nairobi... a music producer above all others...
Rick "ricochet" Rubin...
slap on tender paws:
the kangaroo skip-jimmy...

bother me... the scent of the brothel on the tip
with an opened bottle of bourbon...
who the **** was asking for a nun?!
sure as **** i wasn't asking for one...
one of whoever you are: were?!

- that i can grasp the nakedness:
flesh market...
i can own... pigtails i can own...
the breath...
i relieve myself from having torn:
towing ambitions of mother...
grandmother... sister... daughter...

less lament for what i could be...
less lament for:
lament in itself...
              i'll pluck my eyes out...
watch the traffic... cater for the moon:
bloom:
rift and itch...
wholesome...

what would i be... married...
i would most certainly not have
read: any philosophy books...
thank god...
i don't earn enough to pay taxes..
hello unicorns!
hello... waste.
terrible idea for a date...
beginning with...
whoever had the most:
please stand up...

don't feed the gluttonous beast
of envy... of male "prowess"...
a bicycle overpowers the legs
overpowers the need for car:
and a passenger...
lift me: dead...
toward the breath... the air...
the nuance...

in the shallows... on the grounds of
counting pebbles...
among prostitutes...
if i were: somehow: too...
a barber...
a... labrador... a bartender...
but thank god the **** feels so good
that... it doesn't require a date...
all that leash...
praise them all that i can...
because the ones that become
wombs... proper.. mothers...
are... invisible... creatures..
creatures, that they are...
in the least...

               women that would hardly
want to make a Sunday afternoon
into... making...
some homemade raspberry ice-cream...
i don't want to love someone
on a leash: donning a muzzle...

it would be so much easier
if i were just: outright... gay.
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2021
some, "some", variation of an "alternative"
alphabet... for all the Huguenot castratos...
levy the vowels
as either ah: sighs...
laughter: ha ha...
or prompts: eh? i.e. what?!
ugh for uh: what the hell's this...
oh for: semi-sigh like aroused by
an eureka..... ih / ix... and the 9 of hi: hello...
hollow out the remaining(s)...
i.e.
it's a simple ******* rubric
if you look at it:

A
      eB
        Be
       iC(k)
       uC(k)
       eC(k) - speck... hence
the bracket surd, letter...
         C'e(h)
         C'E
         Çee...
    D'eh
           D'ee / Dē...
       ē / eh...
      eF...
  not iron, i.e. not Fe-
      ***:
Gee.
     not G'eh...
or... eGG...
    ***... gutter feels...
ga-ga..
   hay-hay-t'ch...
   hatch a plan...
rubric of the rectangular:
football or rugby...
laughter has a shape...
   Ha Ha...  or sigh ah: ah...
I: aye aye: awe sinking...
       Jay...
    Jotting details...
   adjacent...
   jesting clues...
why oh why Y, y: i-grek
is not devalued as
a consonant and kept as a
vowel-noun i will never know...
edge-J?
       pledge no?
   K...         Kay? kettle kid me? colt?!
prefix way-day-lady...
it's karma but not...
           Ek... it's K.O.
culprit "c"...
slurp... k'k'k'additions...
   El... EL...
  but not... le (the)...
l'homme...
              la bonne heure...
  but not El...
           Le le o'le!...
     Em...
               eM... not... moi... not Me-o-a-while-o-i...
em em stutter proper...
   eN... not N'oh... or Noah...
     O0....
  O0O0O0O0KO0O0...
                ooh...
   ***
            not eP...
   not ePPing...
                          not p'eh... not PI...
        
             Q: cue... not quack...
not kart...
not kcwack....
             row a boat for better weather...
Q serpentine *****-load...
   cue?
queue?
   quack...
        
             aR...
Re-
      gards... the missing thrill of
the R-subjected to the trill...
      
           kind regards...
eS... not: see sight seeing...
essentially...
        eße...
                         ­ see you C or
a cedilla...
           for each Tea hardly any other
Fwench et et et... or a t'eh...
    
  U umbrella or parabolla...
omega: oo boat or a sound of disgust
via: u(g)h!

      V contra U...
             when: a ven...
  verily: wearily...
          upsilon contra nu...
savvy?
  
     it's called a double u...
UU... W...
   it's called a double U... UU...
W... VV... more like a double Vent...
break a leg... call it a weird marriage of
L and T... i.e. a Ł...

brechta... pan...
X for CH... for... HHHHHHHHH...

Ch
     X
        cH

     either ch'eap or... hark at a bark of woo'
'oo'         em... dead... wood?

Y... forget kind brother...

it's Z'ed... not... E'zee'e (easy)...
          no? i's not A-to-Z'ed...
how does that cover the already presented...
D'ee... rather than Ed...
looks pwetty...
who needs to invoke the R
when there's a missing trill?
who? some Angevine remembrance
project?!
hard not to begin aspiring
aspiring to redeem oneself for a day's
worth of suicide
just by lying in bed
and pickling the body
and subsequently the mind
by extension an abstract
of the brain
of what is material that being
the left hemisphere
which was fused with a nail
to the ear: the word money

while the right hemisphere
is strangely scratched
and i don't mean the head
i mean the vinyl mind scratched
with little microcosms of
**** and alcohol
use

the day began at 9:30
                        today
and i really just had
to knock three out on the toilet
before taking
a shower
at least i can justify knocking
three out -
purges almost bulimic and i
know what
bulimic purging looks like
in the Roman ancient disgust
with eating food

it must have been this disgust
of eating food
from time to time
i wonder did the Celestial
*** Couch'Surfer of Nazareth
stayed in the Tax Collector's
house for the time
being
since also active in the city
as the countryside
so not exactly alien to the concept
of money

what displeased people
most was probably that
and the wisdom contained within money

Ἀπόδοτε οὖν τὰ Καίσαρος
Καίσαρι καὶ τὰ τοῦ Θεοῦ τῷ Θεῷ

render unto Caesar what is Caesar's
and unto God what is God's

  i can meet this faith halway
and render it likewise
away from the time of Caesar
and even a God of Nations
this Global God
i mean:
did yhwh really evolve to a global god
from the god of the individual
of Abraham
say
to then the god of the people
as revealed unto Moses
since Moses
is the keeper of the god of Abraham
and the god of Israel
but a god of the entire world
would be... perhaps too "ambitious"...
how unlikely that
such a burden would be conjured
up by man...
and not a god
since nowhere could it be cited
that yhwh would want to become
the god of the universe
given that he was yet to find foundation
in Greek
in Greek alone there would have had
to appear a manifestation of the Hebrew
rather than in the time of the Roman Empire
and in a place like Palestine -
jeez...

              then so man took up himself
to manifest the tortures
and stand above the god of a people
to become the god of all peoples
and as such i can only return to this man
as a man
and say
that i will consider

his 7 sayings

mt 6:24
L 12:32-34
mk 10:24b-25
mt 13:18-23
L 12:13-15
                L 16:10-11
mk 12:41-44

but already i stand out saying
and i only skimmed the others
so i don't want to space
out as much
as then ask Muhammad
about his take on
ahmed-bahmed-mammon-head

so can be asking really
basic tenets of faith
say if
   i say if
as if

         Azif i say a demon helper
because i'm asking
not metaphysical questions
i'm asking how these two
camel and donkey jockeys
lived

and the reality is pretty basic
the Muhammad was a merchant
and married an older woman
who didn't give him children
but gave him knowledge
and ****** experience
which means yes later could sustain
wives
but he was old by then and prior
to an Arab colt
and i wonder if so illiterate then who
wrote down the ****
book and i'm guessing it was
none other than his first wife

Khadīja **** Khuwaylid - died 619
ha! 610!
            well for a second there
i thought i might be wrong
               should she have died after
just the basic life worn
knitty gritty

   perhaps like that mutter under the breath
of the bicycle shop repair guy
for want a refund on job
not done
personal belonging "confiscated"
and then the ordering of a spoke
one ******* spoke
almost 2 weeks
i say what service
sooner i ******* watch a youtube
video
buy the spoke key
and some spokes
and do the ******* thing myself
why mutter little boy
at me
i wonder aren't you working in
a bicycle shop
are you too lazy to see the potential
perhaps i work lazily looking
at people
but it's still the same mantra:
security, safety & service
along all long yards of wage labouring
if not actually laboring with
the body
all jobs alike outside the realm
of construction and moving **** about
industry of trucks and skips
but come on...
"engineer": the "engineer" took
a holiday and i was misled that
this wouldn't take two *******
weeks for one ******* spoke

let's get real this is not a nuclear
war tension of a disgruntled
customer not throwing tantrums
but asking in advance
before showing the arrears receipt
i.e.

     ooh - new guy, none of those
passive aggressive Steppenwolf not so's
(maybe, almost but that's
rather moi)

                  'so, in your opinion,
how long should a spoke replacement
take, roughly 2 or 3?'
'well... given that our engineer is
on annual leave
and should be back on Thursday
once we order the parts...'

   'that's fine... see i've been waiting
two weeks
and nothing so here is my receipt
and could i please get a refund
and my wheel back, please, thank you...'

i cut him off before he could
try to have a lie-around
a way to excuse the service of this
corporate cycle repair shop
next thing
i'm going to do is travel
to Whitechapel to see my China-man
because he only has an ice-cream
van sort of space in a hole
in the wall next to the Mosque
and i'm wondering how to enter
the mosque once more
and just sit there
perhaps just to treat it as a safe space
perhaps just ask:
can i come in?
can i sit down and meditate?

i remember when i was in Russia
that was near impossible
you couldn't sit in the church
because it was some disrespect
but then all the tourists
around while the locals
had to deal with it
while a mass was taken place
and the priest stood face to altar
with the people behind him
and the people all standing
because unlike in catholic churches
there were no benches
for you to sit on
there were no three positions of
stand, kneel, sit...

Muslims just stand
kneel then bend...

perhaps it's a more comfortable prayer
position
perhaps the dynamic of 15min max
5x a day
well...
i am of the "first"
but not the first
and is it really a day for a bbq on the sly
i mean the Aussie
way of just maybe cooking
outside
not bbq like it's a party
but like al fresco
but not really not in England
so just cooking al fresco
that's nice...
i think that's a sort of rich boy saying
middle of the way
to be able to cook outside
and not in a kitchen
with the birds chirping
and i'm pretty sure Buddha has nothing
to add on the subject of money
and of work...
i wonder what is considered work
then...

if this camel and donkey jockeys
had to say something about money
then what did they say about work?

maybe... 1 Thessalonians 4:11
but that's no longer Jesus
but Christianity...
                                otherwise everything
seems rather vague
and yet work we must
and work we adhere to
and no venture beyond it
in some madness of
a suntan and the surf
or perhaps
something less troublesome
as time unspent
               yet lived such lived
as to decree
O what is truly necessary
now that not loving
is worth more than loving
and how loving
was so claustrophobic
and so ego-unresponsive
and i know
that i mentioned
an ego-destruction
but that's o.k.
in a crowd but when one
returns to one's
own bedroom
and one's own head
and the person who was loved
isn't there
then surely she should
expect to have a relationship
with a "bad boy"
in prison much closer to home
because the fact that i'm
writing from London
and she's reading from Kauai
last night i sent her 7 half drunken
messages
and then deleted them
since i was also half sober
so there you go
there you go...
there you are...
                          easy enough?
so, eyes turned all foggy
and i was relaxing with the wrong
sort of music and
who's this apology even to?
now come to think of it:

there was a change of 'what's for dinner'
since it's raining on off on off
and i don't want to be the local
shaman to conjure up sunshine
and parting clouds
i kinda like this luster of damp
and moisture
and thinking about insects like
spiders: notably spiders
and how i giggle at my sometime
arachnophobia
  (phew! almost thought i'd misspell it!
and yes... honing in on 3pm
and changing plans
from a bbq to a curry)

       ... interlude... interlude... interlude (no ****)...

nostalgia nostalgia
that year not so long ago
when the sun was just a sun
and below
London Stadium
and Red Hot Chili Peppers
and i was still so inexperienced
and only a pawn
in traffic cone

         and so careless almost devoid
of love's interest...

steward of the household
steward of the household
in the old days
who is to say that men belong
in the fields
and that women belong
in the houses
and who stays long enough
to board the safe havens
of a 'otel - no dare to wonder
what role is this
somehow emasculating
because i find joy in cooking
and ironing shirts
and looking presentable
and what is to say that woman
does that
perhaps like could look
Victorian
just whenever i ride the shallow
worms of London
notably the Distrct
Circle Hammersmith & City
and the metropolitan lines

oh i could write a poem about
the London underground
perhaps that's another project
ride each line from one end to another
do these little weekend trips during
the week
and be less of a bother
to the occupied space
i hear Ruslip is pretty and i've walked
to Epping
so i can say that much about so little

oh perhaps even now
this can be seen as less an emasculating
work title: unpaid
who said all work was paid
let's assume that there are works
in this world that
cannot invoke the relation to Caesar
let us just say
that there are certain things that have
to be done not
metaphysics usurped or whatever
but little deeds that are governed
by silent applause
from a canned laughter crowd
i mean rewarded without due
but rather duty
from want
rather than expectation
from a faceless man
to a facing faceless man man
i.e. with face
and that negation of grace that comes
when loving expectations are
not met
loved as in catered to and for...
in some respects of...
from the perspective of the essentials of life...

              Eumolpus
   Attica
                Thrace
         Eumolpidae: the family...
O once was the richness of the abode
of families
that the life we now owe
succumbed to that family of Judea
and how we are punished for adhering to
it so...
what jovial pasts were once
and now no longer are
I see Jesus with John
at St Joseph's
and the Dalai playing
dubstep for free
and then Hail Mary comes in
with a flagon of gin
shouting let the baptism begin,

Thomas is still stuck in Epping with
Andrew who's such a dead loss
Judas as drunk as a Cistercian monk
makes the other two get very cross,

And I pray
but never on Sunday
there are too many sinners out here
it's usually on a Saturday evening
over a cold pint of best bitter beer.

— The End —