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Mateuš Conrad Jan 2020
finding gravity on a bicycle...

surely... given that most people
don't write a ******* hemmingway...
and there's no william buckley jr.
doing the interview...
and there's no norman mailer...

and that: no one really bothers
with kierkegaard and that:
kant "famously" didn't marry starry crap...
why didn't i have kids
and start a family?
uh... dunno... mother's best lie...
or the best lie a neighbour brings
with her... whenever you're
being a 2nd witness without
the 1st witness being there...

and she says an "also" with regards
to her son having the same luck
with women...
when the comparison comes:
a koala bear versus a gorilla...
bonsai tiger!
like a koala is a ******* bear
to begin with...
cuddly soft-pouch toy-ah-thing!

but there's that great feat!
finding gravity on a bicycle...
my mother helped me with that...
and that famous fail of
a rotondo... well... more or less
a cricket ground egg shaped, oval...
or a rugby ball...
the shoulder on the salto bike
hard... rammed into a car....

as a child you were supposedly well
loved...
and this is modern poo'etry i hear about?
here's to: john sounding like johny...
will sounding like *****...
richard sounding like: **** and not richy...
it's cute... matthew... matti: finnish...
leonard is: leo oh leo...
why art we all not named: Li Lo Po!

of course everyone managed to spot
the tetragrammaton vowel catchers that's
hey'zeus! no... not the bloke strapped
to the mannequin of tailoring...
oh no... not the crucifix pendulum
"for us all"... by blood... by cross...
who is to exfoliate on the crucifix...
better than some well scouted for materials
on a mannequin canvas for tailoring
a suit?
the guilt?! oh the guilt!
well... thank god this metaphysician would
never address the material realm of
enjoying a... dabble with... wool...
when donning a suit...
or leather shoes... or any presence of suede...
beside the crucifix mannequin: replica
and pittance!

- but finding gravity on a bicycle is one thing...
finding gravity when swimming is another...
it's called gravity...
but some heretical circles call it:
balance...
after all... it is both gravity...
and balance... given that while riding
a bike... or swimming...
you're pretty much sure, assured:
to not be falling...

you can find gravity with newtonian hindsight...
of sure...
that's there... it involves the magicians orbs...
copernican mathematics and...
target practice when it comes to
propaganda spew...
and Steward... the lesser... Stew...
cousin of the house of Stuart...
not Steward... Stuart...
which is (again)...
a McKiteit and MacCoddlewit...
some Glaswegian *****-donor clinic
"miss-up" mix-it: tend to...
lounging busy... which is of course...
besides the "look"...

5 bazookas cleared for a salvo!
hip hip! burger-pound!
hip hip! boom shizzle shoom!
hip hip! hooray!
oh now we'z getz uz best
partay birth doy wishy-washy
"protagonists"!

but given the current Persian affair...
i couldn't help to notice...
love actually... the narrative...
the u.s.a. and england...
the Z-spezial re-la-tion-ship...

so... who's spastic... and who's fantastic?!
spaz: B-bristolian-esque joking...
never aside...
who's the spaz and who's the frizzy-fuss?!

spe-zial mother russia talks down
to dog Kiev: yes, it's in (the) Ukraine...
spezial iz not what iz?

h'america... kept a yorkshire terrier...
media leetches of england
firmly in its grasp...
cuz onez we woz: once -
the militia contra the crown...
of north virginia...

coz b'rah: a 79-year-old man
who lit himself on fire protesting
against russia's language policies
in the capital of the volga region
of udmurtia has died;
name? alberto raisin...
which sounds terrible in its
non-native spanish...

but there's something worth of gravity
without debating
the heliocentric model...
finding one's balance on a bicycle...
a posteriori events...
but... the same balance can be
translated into a swimming session...

my god my father tried to teach me...
if i was supposed to learn
to swim in the sea...
with the fear: of not seeing the depth?
isn't that like a thesaurus
congestion of: acrophobia?
isn't there a word in the borrowed
lexicon of the ancient greeks...
concerning... fearing to swim in a body
of water... where you can't see the bottom?
i could learn to swim in a swimming
pool... thankfuly all because and due to...
moi...

i also found gravity in water...
i could... lie in water and become...
the antithesis of: the body consists
of 90% of water...
yes sherlock watson & sons... ltd...
but in water i'm mostly fat...
if i find the right balance...
i float...
which is why swimming is a bit
like riding a bicycle...
you find: the center...
or gravity...

again... in this special "relationship"
of bruv-love...
between h'america and whittle brit-pop interlude...
oasis on the continent...
my my... blur, even...
breakfast at tiffany's back in the dough-dough-us...
who is the ******* SPASTIC?
in this "SPEZIAL" relationship?
i guess the english must be the SPEZIALS...

a bit like watching:
go-go-gonzales trip up on a spelling mistake...
which is all i care for...
like a comedia...
a deviation from the informal, later,
subject of language implementation...
and all this peacocking prior...

where else does gravity allow itself...
a presence of the multi-vector?
up and down... left and right...
it's not as easily explained as:
on a ledge... with an apple...
drop it... newton with a header!
a 1-all equalizer in stoppage time
an F.A. cup re-match!

gravity on a bicycle...
it's hardly a drop affair...
gravity in water...
it's hardly merely swimming...
there's that aspect of finding... buoyancy...
there's not need for you to swim...
to exhert so much effort...
that you might as well drown 10 meters
in after swimming the 'undred...

no buoyancy: no chinese fortune cookies...
i still don't know which is more grand...
beside the acrobatics of... olympic level
acrobatics...

it's not bound to youth via lifting weights...
or supreme mao tse tung's winter olympics
of: hunger strikes in Vinter...
the gravity bound to a bicycle...
or the gravity bound to swimming...
after all... the latter is a bit "funny"...

"levitation" and buoyancy...
the dracula soundtrack:
only because of gary oldman and the composer
wojciech kilar... and the given, current...
b.b.c. spin-off and how...
yes... it's that terrible...
i don't even know where those five-stars
came from!
the archetype of feminine romance novels?
the syphilitic lover? the "vampire"?

yes, no? two guesses as good as: nein - keiner...
and, quiet honestly...
nothing could make this exercise in:
not engaging in any of all the available
comments sections on any website...
any worse... than it already is...

it comes as no surprise that: i write this poo'ems
not because i don't write poetry...
but because i will neither write
a poem by standards reserved for
pedagogy or demagogy...
or write identifiable puzzle-bog-trots of...
language reserved for politicization:
and not for... counter-marxist...
"psychiatric" post-...
hardly modern or... "today's journalism"...
eh... pushing it toward a Beckett-clause...
concerning language that is not expected...
oh but i certainly do know
a difference between formal language
and... this... the informal language...
the cognitive extension that does not
require a "free speech" protection bias...

none of this was spoken...
it was seen...
weaved into "thinking"...
that's the difference... isn't it?
from my end of the tenniscourt "promenade"
i've heard nothing but clickick...
off this dead-end replica piano
of a qwer
asdf
zxcvbnm

unless my shadow spoke... or there was some
telepathic connection
with the schizoid "group-think" of me
sourcing my sometime odd...
cognitive-murmors of "thought"...
"hallucinations"...
so be it...

this defence of a freedom of speech...
how does that even extend into writing?
i will never know...
and to be honest? i don't want to know...
writing is an extension of thinking...
which is also an inversion of speaking...
but it's never speaking...
where's the audio on this piece?!

how about... plucking your eyes out,
after fating yourself with the
original curiosity to begin with?
sounds better: than... what still persists as...
not being, said!

this was written, it wasn't said...
this is not a transcript...
this is not a transcript...
if this is censored...
then my... "schizophrenia" is not even
my original thesis of: bogus
mono-lingual parody of bilingualism...
no need to cite **** sapiens
jurisprudence advocates...
lawyers... the thesaurus bargain barons etc.
this is... what's those words they use?
invasion of the tabernacle?
do my "auditory hallucinations" stem from...
these words...
a private investement in internet access...
again: nothing is being said!
because this is a "public arena"...
a "forum"...
and the eyes on the other side of this text...
are c.c.t.v. eyes?!
not private eyes?

what's the point of freedom of speech?
when the freedom to think:
and subsequently write... is bombarded
by being who: see via reading braille...
and read... comments likes dislikes and all
those other ratios?

writing is an extension of a freedom
to think... most people who speak freely
don't speak via a precursor script...
that's not free speech: that's scripted speech!
and just because it happens be placed
in a public "forum"...
that's the argument that this writing
is a freedom of "speech"?!
really?! i guess your average u.s. citizen
is more despotic than the *******
president... then...

again.. blah blah blah blah blah...
blah blah.... blah blah blah blah blah...
blah... blah blah... blah blah blah blah blah blah...

you'd sooner convince a parrot to sing
you a song in sparrow than call this "debate"...
evenly focused on one or neither side "winning".
vircapio gale Mar 2014
the Nephelaen mediatrix sings
fating an ambrosia synchrony of tones

she volves her telic tepals ripe:
areoles ensorcelled under alate nomes

she heralds petrichoric quench
with nova womb
to subtend violet ray

in stellar bloom, noema web:
sensate fontanels
in spite of dessication's wrench
are concresced atmospheric balms
of evanescent nervure, calyces
displayed to sky-crossed home,
unpillared and ovoid







.
'the nephelai (or Nephelae)
were the Okeanid nymphs of clouds and rain who rose up from the earth-encircling river Okeanos bearing water to the heavens' ( theoi.com ).
"The Nephelean Period"
is a perhaps outdated term used in solar or geologic timescales, to mark when solar nebulae emerge distinct from Giant Molecular Clouds. it ends when a proto-sun is formed.
mediatrix : a female mediator

volve : "consider" "roll about the mind"
telic: having an end or goal
tepal: contains both sepals and petals of a flower
areoles: (on cacti) are clearly visible bumps out of which grow clusters of spines, buds and branches
ensorcell: to bring under a spell
alate: winged
nome (nomos), in Greek music, originally ‘tune’, ‘melody’; the word was applied especially to a type of melody invented, it was said, by Terpander as a setting for texts taken from epic poetry, which could be played on the flute or on the lyre.

petrichor: the scent after long awaited rain, or the oil released after a drought's end
noema: an object of consciousness
concresce: to grow together
calyx: bot. the outermost group of floral parts, the sepals; anat. zool., a cuplike part.
ovoid: egg-shaped

my apologies for the obscure words. it's a vice and a penchant i'm learning to come to terms with. any thoughts are appreciated
JS CARIE Oct 2018
To openly relinquish vulnerabilities, having found love will likely be present in advance

Being in love, will challenge defenses making present vulnerabilities

Fating the present after liberating vulnerabilities, ensures a relief to drop defenses, and a willingly surrender to love
Before During After Vulnerable powerlessness love present
"You'll Be Remembered." By Kaitlyn A. Warnken

The slowly fating of my heart beating. The rage of hate stirring up while the angers heating. Holding these wounds tight trying to stop the bleeding. Locking doors shut trying to stop the screaming. Closing my eyes, pinching my skin trying to pretend I'm dreaming. But the truth was was that i was leaning. Only i wish i could have been dreaming this night. leaning on seeking to find the fringe of my own life. Wishing for a shot gun n' pistol to take a couple rounds to my own life tonight. Hell my spark would go out in my life light. I'd of done it by now but i have no knife. Yea, that's right. Though i know I'm strong enough to win this fight, on this night and make my life light ignite. They told me to **** myself i responded, i think I'll do it on my own time, SYKE. People are rude, with no respect they don't know what their saying. No matter what you do prove them wrong by staying. Take the words and stop taking them to heart. Once you stop the words will stop tearing you apart. And remember that those scares wont last forever. Just stop the "hurting your body," you'll do fine in your life because i know You're clever. inside and on the outside you will die never, because you'll succeed in your life and be remembered. Unlike others who's lights go out in their own life ember's. So live how you want. who you are is just another life member of which we all have lived faster. And at the end of a long life we give after. But your the kid who made it in life so no need for us to cry. You will always be known so we will never have to say good bye because in our hearts it's you who lives inside. Just don't be that kid who gets a short life because they "signed." You are a smart kid You are smart enough to realize you need realigned. Stay true inside. It will help, that's not a lie. Neither is your life so don't ruin it ever. If you stick to that rule you'll die never And be remembered.

---NOTE----I DO NOT AUTHORIZE ANY DUPLICATIONS OF MY WRITINGS, PHOTOGRAPHS, OR ANY OTHER PERSONAL INFORMATION.
"You'll Be Remembered." By Kaitlyn A. Warnken

The slowly fating of my heart beating. The rage of hate stirring up while the angers heating. Holding these wounds tight trying to stop the bleeding. Locking doors shut trying to stop the screaming. Closing my eyes, pinching my skin trying to pretend I'm dreaming. But the truth was was that i was leaning. Only i wish i could have been dreaming this night. leaning on seeking to find the fringe of my own life. Wishing for a shot gun n' pistol to take a couple rounds to my own life tonight. Hell my spark would go out in my life light. I'd of done it by now but i have no knife. Yea, that's right. Though i know I'm strong enough to win this fight, on this night and make my life light ignite. They told me to **** myself i responded, i think I'll do it on my own time, SYKE. People are rude, with no respect they don't know what their saying. No matter what you do prove them wrong by staying. Take the words and stop taking them to heart. Once you stop the words will stop tearing you apart. And remember that those scares wont last forever. Just stop the "hurting your body," you'll do fine in your life because i know You're clever. inside and on the outside you will die never, because you'll succeed in your life and be remembered. Unlike others who's lights go out in their own life ember's. So live how you want. who you are is just another life member of which we all have lived faster. And at the end of a long life we give after. But you're the kid who made it in life so no need for us to cry. You will always be known so we will never have to say good bye because in our hearts it's you who lives inside. Just don't be that kid who gets a short life because they "signed." You are a smart kid You are smart enough to realize you need realigned. Stay true inside. It will help, that's not a lie. Neither is your life so don't ruin it ever. If you stick to that rule you'll die never And be remembered.
I DO NOT AUTHORIZE ANY DUPLICATION'S OF MY WRITINGS, PHOTOGRAPHS, OR ANY OTHER PERSONAL INFORMATION.
ohNoe Jun 2014
Once upon the most important moment
  ever to be crucial to my too-invulnerable soul,
i ****** up beyond all possibility to be believed,
  utter failure for the only forever which will ever matter

confident in my idiot coat,
  i slit my own throat
    (with my serrated knife
      of not good enough
     i ended my greatest life
       by killing her loving our Love)

i cut out my own heart,
  watched my aborted soul
   streak shrieking out the gaping hole
it was mourning for all the mornings
  it would never wake beside her
it hated me for all the adventures
  it will now never share with her
it shall always despise me
  for the forever she denies me

the blade of my inability
  to make her believe in me
carved out my breaking barely beating heart
  but could not **** the boundless hurt
    (this pain shall always forever reign)

Eventually
  i mostly got over the loss of my sister
    because i couldn't keep empowering the horror
and i understood why she couldn't go on
  and she would have wanted me to move on

Eventually
  cannot this time occur,
i can't even minutely reduce the power of this horror,
  it is feral aggressive primordial omnipotent horror

Shannon, oh, Shannon,
  you threw me away
Shunned, oh god, shunned
on my Judgement Day

The One
  dis-believed US
  un-believed US
The One, while crying,
  said she still Loved Me (me!!)
    (and missed me, silly)
and wasn't better without me,
  but wouldn't be with me
and then went back to an ex before me
  so easily and fast into over me.

And i'll never get past that,
  any of that...

how do you meet a miracle,
The One & Only One,
who says sighs smiles you make each other miracled,
  and then just be over & done.

i don't know if you've ever been that broken,
  if very want you've ever wished for
was suddenly sharing a million more,
and then in an instant all was unspoken

and i  don't know
  if the worst experience you'll ever know
was an unexpected assault
from your own ****-up fault,
was a sudden evil somewhen
  banishing the best you've ever been

but she won't let me fix the what or the why,
  so i'll live for decades wanting to die.
and even in my nothing,
  i do know a few things...

i don't want this dark,
  i want her spark
    & the flame it ignited
      & the future it excited
which used to burn with no pain
  & i keep trying for believing
    somehow someday it will again

i don't want this darkness
  that after her i “live” in.
i just want her kiss
  again & again & again

i don't want to know
  any more of this limp limbo,
i want when i make her laugh
  and make her smile two times plus half

i can't know any more of this horror,
  can't keep knowing years exploding into tears.
i want to keep quoting the movie
where You said Yur best was me
      (seriously, ME!!!!)
    she said it was me

Shannon's voice
  her personality
the touch of her eyes' smile
  and trying to watch that at the same time
    as staring at those luscious lips
while aching to grab her *** as
  we pulled us hips to hips.

everything about her
  and about US
the LOVE
  the LUST
the connections from a multitude of directions
  the music
    the emotions
the bodies playing tunes
  as hearts kept the beat
and kayaks under full moons
  whispered we were the shared heartbeat
    that everyone dreams about
            everyone dreams about
we were it
  we are it
it will never not be right
  it will never not be our night

but her eventual belief
  became my eternal grief
as instead of mend it
  and make US even stronger
she decided to end it
  and make US no longer

so sorrows are all my tomorrows
  and volcano tears are my eyes for years
    (they explode without warning
      all throughout every day
     and no-one seems to see the scarring
      as they burn & turn my heart to pompei)

i envisioned holding her for forever,
  tightly when she wanted,
    loosely when she was ultra busy
      and a light touch would make her happy

i remember every time she touched me,
  it was always rhythm & rhyme & HAPPY
seriously,
i still tingle from her first touch,
    who knew June 30th, 2013 would mean so much
      (or that February 3rd, 2014 would **** me)
we sat & spoke & shared beside a fire,
  finally in person with the finest person,
    as her personality & eyes & & voice set me forever afire
      (until the day she emailed me into broken)

and now i remember how a miracle dies,
  i remember with my once bright blue eyes
whose light left when she said
  we will never be wed,
    we will no longer Love instead

& then my eyes ceased seeing my soul,
  not merely blinded
    by all that was reminded
      staring into that bleeding hole,
but instead finally ******* dead

look me once more in the eyes,
  see the agony in their empty,
and cry as You realize
  removing You from me killed me

break my mirror,
  what's left to lose?
take my forever fear,
  i shall succumb & lose

a We that was US
  is naught but a forgotten smile
and yet all the while...

the other we is here waiting,
  my brokenness & i.
forever needing our re-fating,
  DEAD but dreaming of being alive
Clare Nov 2017
The uncertainty will **** me
Slithering towards me
Surging throughout me
Twisting my insides into a knot
Squeezing and pulsating like a python
Immobilizing me
Swallowing me whole
Fating me to a painfully slow, systematic death

I never really know when it's going to strike
Everything seems perfectly normal
Suddenly I'm grappling with the possibility of being betrayed
Of being unloved
Of being alone

Soon my worries will manifest themselves
A nasty new reality will be the punishment for my anxieties
For it is wrong to burden anyone else with them
Monisha Jul 2019
One night one day, stolen moments,
an unfinished bottle of wine and some conversations still paused;
Eyes locked, lips docked, raspy breathing out and in,
tangled sheets,  heartbeat to heartbeat above all the din.

Surreal, magical, sensual and true,
Mind Body Soul, in some moments, so few;
Forbidden, thrilling and a tantalising high,
A  fantasy of a rendezvous, my oh my!

What were the chances of two strangers connecting,
Baiting, mating and clandestinely fating,
serendipity thou art a magical brew,
Oh! Now estranged one,  this is my ‘while waiting’ ditty to you...
Jonathan Moya Jul 2020
The poem rumbles in my brain
and wakes me at three in the morning
as if my devil branded me with his pitchfork
reminding me of our inspired bargain

My nemesis love calls me to the fiery sheet
his impish pride burning praise in me
that swears fealty with ****** words

Oh poetry
how your satanic verses
chum and shudder in me
sharking nightmares to dreams
and my words to the exquisite limbo
doomed to fall short of true divinity

The poem squatters in my mind firmly
fixed in the ninth circle of treachery
offending my soul
crushing my heart

It takes and takes and takes
and never gives not even
granting the guilt of ***** lucre

Words are my blood
Poems **** my veins
My quick-fire brimstone lines
are my epitaph

I am both cursed and blessed
to this addiction
yet I hope this passion never cools
only  flames and reflames

Oh Poetry immolate me
burn me to the purest ash
leaving a diamond legacy

The poem is not a song
but the fire inside the song
the sulphur mistaken for honey

Oh dulcet sounds why and thank you for
making me an exile from life and tomorrow
a lonely sad witness to the world

Why and thank you for
fating me to this fiery covenant

— The End —