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Mateuš Conrad Oct 2020
something akin to ageing grunge -
it's somehow up there
where: ageing rocking (proper) will
never be -
it's an ongoing nostalgia:
but it's not even that...
pearl jam's vitalogy -
   well... it was never going to be
a nightclub dancefloor filler -
clearly it's not nirvana -
                     such mundane observations
that they have to be met
with a blank canvas:
that there's nothing archaic or...
forbidden - or even a Tironian
shorthand -
              well...
            but i assured myself:
no two thoughts are the same -
                but coming across
a feelz synchronicity -
   don't ask... watching caroline garcia
come back set down against
elise mertens -
          well first of all:
play on clay is so... so... slo-mo...
  compared to the other surfaces...
you can almost sense
that the tennis ball is picking up
clay dust and with each
hit in a rally: more force is needed:
the players also tend to hit the ball
higher so there's a higher bounce...
how often they can be duped
"thinking" they can get to
the second bounce and prevent it...
a game of 7 rectangles and...
a football team's worth of
line judges: plus the ball boys / girls...
tennis... the bigger picture...
god... that french aesthetic of a woman...
i briefly dated a french girl...
isa-bella - and she was that sort
of generic french: that someone
like caroline garcia does represent...
the big picture...
   equal rights blah blah...
women need to box... count how
many bones in a ribcage -
a sport for vengeful prostitutes -
or so i've heard from:
a million dollar baby...
                    well... at least now in sport
the audience size is pretty
much the same:
women's singles still attracted
a bigger crowd than any doubles...
beside equal rights:
true... women should play to
3 set best...
                  joke: whatever...
     women's tennis was almost more
entertaining to watch to begin
with: after all...
  there was never a raonic
or a... any of those: serve rapists
with no dialogue - precision ******
serve - cul de sac games:
which would never have allowed
for the creation of PONG...
just that routine of pacman -
                      anyways...
women's equality in sport...
the olympics are a fine example:
i don't need to see any discrimination
bias - it's just poetically different...
a bit like how women and men
approach love...
   but... football or rugby...
or boxing... it's not like they can't...
do what men do:
but... hell: maybe i should stash
my poems into a drawer and only
read them aloud to my family...
    or... hell! an anonymous audience!
- and don't we enjoy that
readership privacy where one can
remain anonymous -
after all... i don't know what i'd do
with all these... unnecessary comments...
beef: ego-tripping...
some new self-esteem purse?
well now with the "pandemic" -
little god of the underworld and sneeze!
finally! a proper experience of
omnipresence!
we have ourselves a tease of...
should the demiurge - should...
who the hell wants to watch women
play cricket, football... or box?
rock-climbing -
tennis -
                all the sports in the olympic
plethora... oh god: most certainly yes!
- i had to check who roland garros
was today...
apparently they named
the stadium after him...
and from naming the stadium...
they named the tournament...
odd... given that... well... it must be a french
thing... naming a tennis tournament
after an aviator -
who won 4 dog fights during
world war one...
           em... tennis and...
mind you... wimbledon and the only whites
policy when it comes to
clothing...
or how lewis hamilton was turned
away from the royal box because
he was not wearing the full anti-monty
of shirt, jacket and tie...
but white on green... fair enough...
clay is just itching for contrast
of colours... subtle hues of blue....
to contrast with: it's not orange...
    if it's going to be orange it's going
to be Ayer's rock... orange... at sunset...
but not even that...
then you can have all the bold colours...
i imagine that a deep mint
of t-shirt and shorts would be
so well balanced in contrasting...
eh... a canvas of blue...
from the US open or the Aussie open...
it's not the same:
old game new continents:
a historical claustrophobia -
me in my dead-end europe am dying
from a frenzy of moths and
books collecting dust:
i am a continent exemplified by...
hoarding...
         it's very painful to have
to edit history...
   after a while the whole idea spirals
out of control and:
either things are over-exemplified or...
relegated to: it's like they
didn't exist at all...
full-circle... europe is not a continent
of museums: it is... a museum per se...
even if i were to relegate
Estonia to: that place where
the northern elephant: the mammoth
was feasted upon extinct...
not so long ago... circa 10K years ago...
i'd still have to mind...
the Livonian order...
or when Estonia was somehow
part of the Polish-Lithuanian
commonwealth...
boor: the eastern bloc - it's harsh to be
"rudely" woken by
foreign capitalistic wild west of the east
circa the 1990s endeavours:
plastics galore...
the death of metallurgy in europe...
oh yes... this is history...
another example:
newcastle united vs. newport county...
the premier league vs. league 2...
i am dying to hear
of... a league 2 side with only
female representation...
not these arsenal leeches -
fan-girl sport...
   which it is... but it doesn't matter:
the crowds won't come
because: better than a liverpool
or a london derby in the premier league?
a premier league side...
playing a league 2 side!
you can't beat the thrill of...
the trials and trepidations of
underdogs! it's a ******* rocky balboa
type of classic!
and i still prefer all the arnold
schwarzenegger films to:
           there's are no adequate
words to write to... sound like...
an imitation of... a balboa pumpkin /
prune mash-up face at the end
of a movie... there isn't...
how tennis allowed itself to create...
a working environment where:
both the men's tennis and the women's
tennis is equally appealing...
i... simply... don't know...
for that matter: the olympics...
stress free... freed from that base
******* of the Sussexes:
constructive racism?
   what... like me going to Kenya and
not finding ol' albino christmas
anemic on billboard advertisement -
i've reached a narrow base...
to counter arguments...
some **** just don't stick...
   it's enough to live among europeans:
no! it has to be tinged with:
we woz the majority 'ere...
i guess: this is me ******* off
to africa then... how about we whizz
and woz and shvapz continentz?
- i am tired of toying around with
a greasy oyster:
i have fat for brains: literally -
alzheimer's is constructed by killer
proteins -
there are these minor wants in my language
that have to go beyond:
mere vocabulary -
  even if i'll assign a new word
to my palette it will not be enough
when someone starts choking
the words i already have...
i will pick up a physical book:
fully scented, paper...
and there will be no comment
section - hard to write a comment
on a piece of Dickens -
why we wasted our time of
Shakespeare - why is he the canon...
and not Dickens: i will never know...
mind you... i've reached a point
in the Pickwick Papers were...
there was a clarity of exhaustion:
to beef up the volume size...
to meet the demands of serialization...
all the authenticity is fizzling out...
Dickens calls a get together
with either Shelley or Stevenson...
or Wilde...
      roland garros is a tournament
named after naming of a stadium:
which was named after an aviator...
azure sport clothes are a deepening
focus staged against:
Ayers' rock sunset orange of clay...
from the feral lands of
the middle-east: which is...
north of anywhere that's Rhodes...
i don't like being told:
what words best punctuate my
thinking -
i'll pause on: black-beggar...
or... schwarzenegger -
     a mighty surname: then i'll stutter
more with sniggering like
a Motley... mutt 'n' all...
        it's not like the russian would
eventually give a ****...
sorry... the soviets...
   it's hard to fiddle around with
a people when... you have the prospects
of living in Siberia...
no one too keen on that
hot bagel of a "transition period"...
are theyz?
           stand me upright against
a wall and shoot!
           if i didn't have my youth
as bargain: i might be towing
some xenophobic lineage of a conservationist's              
revision...
    that they would never
treat a jihadi as a psychiatric mumble-jumble
ol' Joe made a haystack worth
of a crib...
      hell... i bet that if i decided
to live in Kenya... chances are...
on the beaches near Mombasa...
i'd be treated like a ******* Ferrero Rocher!
would i complain?
living in Kenya? what?! no winter!
no autumn! no spring!
this perpetual semi-what-already-is...
giggle of eternal summer?!
how i did find the native
kenyan girls... come night and moonlight...
greased in acrylic tinges
of quicksilver -
how their ivory teased me...
rapacious little i: impossible having
found a beauty to admire beyond
some geisha crumbling... *******
a lemon and still prancing...
correct me if i'm wrong...
let's racially... exfoliate...
i might have a tan come...
i might have green eyes: eyes of evil...
of envious third-parties...
i might be: fraction of legion...
- revisions for ms. amber...
     and she is... that liquid ***** that
once slightly smokey:
when refined...
came across a slurp of maple syrupe
and became mrs. borrowed-burgundy...
syrope syrup:
                    something... rrrrrrrr'ipe...
gluey - clearly i am using a language
that is phonetically biased:
one that write one way but speaks
another: letter-eaters
of the french and the english...
less the english although:
you'd have to see it first...
to make a distinction if prompted
by a sign in a newly ploughed field:
please keep off of field...
you seeing what i'm seeing?
it's not lazy... it's doubly accurate...
and this is among the essex
landowner class...
why bother? employing
a direct article... there's already
a spatial coordinate of a where:
when: i'm reading it...
i.e. passing the field...
                        of(f) -
               **** of wits:
otherwise: to ******* from
a designated standing ordeal
as mere ******...
**** a black girl so that you feel
her coccyx and you're left with
a pretty plum patch of hue in your
little scratch of eden -
that ***** pouch above your:
GRAND INQUISITOR PHA-LULLABY-LOOSE!
yeah... that little itch...
it's a real dodo-project this...
and... with no real desire
to pardon the soviets...
     coming from a former satellite state...
no russians were ever truly
involved:
to my my knot of standing
on a ledge of yawns...
   which is almost sad...
which is almost this horrid friction of
necessity that...
by all means:
to level the smart from the semi-auctioned
to those perfectly serene and
thereby sleeping...
if i will: i'll boast of complaints
that surround hightned efforts
of: friction contra fiction...

one of those scenarios...
in the cul de sac of pedantry -
or there's another word for that...
            but given this is no...
heated affair of: later: a conversation...
i much appreciate
a readership that focuses on
anonymity...
           it's not like i can buy
a book that might suddenly translate
itself with an attache of a comment
section...
i'm not a real die hard fan of
democracy -
i don't see a need to usher in praises
for something that claims i'm
still illiterate: i have count
stub: X - my voice is either a glitch...
or a blister.
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2020
sample size excavation:

urbanity forsake the village-metality
of the undisclosed biological
credo...
                     urbanity became
a pawn & pauper in a "clues",
which replaced facts...
                         i am more mushroom
than reptile or genital mutilation
grammar asking...

              finally! cricket has come home!
well... in between watching
roland garros,
and the ICC?
             even i can agree...
of all the h'american sports?
  baseball... sure...
ice hockey... sure...
     basketball... sure...
   h'american football?
esp. when watching rugby?
  i don't get it...
         scuffling in the middle...
pass back... one throw forward...
a decent runner...
         ball hits the deck...
"regroup"...
      reinforced rugby-esque scrum
drama...
    play-stop-play-stop...
ad. revenue interlude...
   start-stop-start-stop...
             doesn't it get boring, ever?!

i had to turn to cricket!
oh i'm enjoying the cricket...
it's like chess + braille + bridge
dynamic of tactic... sure...
it's not baseball...
       it's cricket!

   international test matches...
50 overs...
         50 x 6 = 300 throws of the ball...
1 over = 6 throws...
no other sport was so much
beautiful jargon,
so much stat.,

             and so many idiosyncratic
terms...
what do they call english
cricketers? tourists...
west indies (the carribean team?)
the windies...
          
          349-8 (349 runs...
         8 wickets)...
              
                   imagine a sport...
where it lasts so long that it errodes
your attention span like
a Tolstoy novel...
      come morning,
it finishes in the early hours of
the evening...

                cricket... quintessential
Dickensian replacement narrative...
and i've never seen more
laid back referees (umpires)...
what's a 4 to a 6
in terms of body language?

you have tactic akin to bowlers
throwing spin-accents...
so there's a minimum of a 1-2 1-2
runs... rather than 4 or 6 worth
of smackers...

            cricket isn't the worst
of games... by far h'american football...
that's the worst game, ever...
then, golf...
             **** me... table tennis
beats those two games,
even without all the glamour...
but itching chinese pretending
to be fast paced insect-esque
reaction time automatons...

                 i mean two female sport
events make complete sense...
tennis and gymnastics...

i don't even know why i enjoy cricket...
after all,
i am not exactly english "born and bred"...
bred from the age of 8...
hybrid mongrel...
i would still like to appreciate
the sports celebrated by the land
of my birth...
        żużel (speedway) and
(szczyptarze... almost a googlewhack...
2 results)...
                 hand-ball... and volley-ball...
greek wrestling...
      archery...
             sport is so under-represented
these days...
        only the major sports...
and at times, the monopoly associated
with their funding, their subsequent
traction of spectator numbers...
  it's so boring!
             it becomes too tribal!
totteham hotspur f.c.: born and bred!
there are so many other sports...
that do not entertain tribal ergonomics!
most of the olympic sports, for starters!

  today i was watching pakistan take
on england in the ICC world cup...
             ****- beauties all round...
      and then... for some "weird" reason...
the shadow of Rotherham...
     the cube didn't fit into the square
hole a gorilla was supposed
to push the prism through...
            
       there are just so many underrated
sports! it's not even worth criticising
sports per se...
         it's the sports that appeal to
the masses, that elevate the sport beyond
the sport per se, and craft trivial and
tribal affiliations that bothers me!

           i still think h'american football
is the dumbest sport available...
considering it as, rugby: devolved.
there's as much sense of passing the ball
backwards, imitating a charging wave
against a coastline of defence...
as there will ever be any sense found...
in scuffling in the middle
like some pretend boxing match...
allowing only one pass backwards...
and one runner maneuvering past the pointless
scuffle in the middle...
pass back, one throw, one catch...
                       run Forest! run!

o.k. even i found cricket a bit *******...
asparagus... ****... asperger syndrome
with its overt analysis...
   but even cricket looks better
than that ******* irish pub brawl
take on boxing that h'american football
represents...

bloated egos in armour...
           sorry, even ping pong looks
more appealing...
the ******* sumo diet worthwhile
to compete with...
        it's the cricket world cup...
and the time it takes to play out
100 overs?
    maybe chance upon a 6 run...
   8 wickets...
                      elsewhere
handball is pop, as is volleyball...
ski-jumping...
          
        sport per se isn't the problem...
it becomes a problem when
sport becomes tribal,
and the initial per se pleasure
of the spectacle of a sport is drained...
when people have to take sides...
when the sport per se cannot
be appreciated...
            hence the "concept" of the sport,
the logic of behind the sport is lost,
lost in the fact that it is lost to
it being monetized...

              when sport, resembles....
the kind of live performance,
akin to Heilung - Alfadhirhaiti...
while i am left, bound to the greater desires,
of moving to Greenland...
or the Faroe Islands...
        because even the English summers...
are starting to resemble
Indian summers more and more...
**** being your atypical English
sun-worshipper who "miraculously"
moved outside of London...

                         not, far, enough!
give me Greenland, give me the Faroe Islands,
give me Alaska!
    i can't stand this surge in
the creeping Summer heat about
to grind England to a halt!
                   however long it will take,
i wish to plan my escape to these lands...
i don't want a year's worth more,
in this little saudi land of the north,
with pubescent saudi ******* racers
bragging their diesel lamborghini *******
down Knightsbridge!
Tim T May 2010
Rain falls on red clay
meaning: delay delay delay
oh, and, by the way
I really love Agnes Szavay.
Mateuš Conrad May 2016
as an antidote to the poetic of onomatopoeia, i simply won't allow such a desecration, the ruinous cloud of plum purple hangs over language with this one poetic technique, just before the barrage of rain falling like a vertical tsunami, as i found myself fishing in Poland, the white-precursor of Mickiewicz's castles turned into horses' gallop... and then foo! a monsoon in 5 minutes... the fish? quiet big, but since kept in a reservoir, a bit fat... actually... too fat. seriously, the onomatopoeia has to go, we can't be found imitating sounds of inanimate things... or debasing our use of phonetic encryptions with sounds of edible creatures... why... if we kept at it, you'd see monkeys building the coliseum and man playing the Mongolian harmonica of vibrating lips and the index finder moving up and down to their tune; plus i think onomatopoeia is the culprit of excessive spelling in english... i know, the keeping of necessary aesthetics but come on... moo vs. μ?

and i wish to lessen the optic strain for continuing
subject matter non-italicised...
you know what's more interesting than paying attention
to the use of onomatopoeia like that, the crudest
musicological element of poetry (well, rhyming is
also up there) - English is perfect, it's a-diacritical
(ah or a? never mind) - you have to start to imagine
the language like a blank canvas, but not necessarily,
what's more interesting in this vector rather than
clinging to onomatopoeia technique is that you
can apply anti-onomatopoeia, distinctions, accents,
yesterday it became revelatory,
it's roland garros on the television, after the days
events there's a program with Mats Wilander
(Swedish no. 1, seven grand slams between 1982 and
1988) and a blonde woman presenter,
i picked up my loss of interest in using onomatopoeia
to profile her origin... she could have been of any
European ethnicity... but the accent... it just landed
in my ear... German... and indeed, without an information
bracket on the programme's description, it was
Barbara Schett... you see, you paint the accents, it's
more interesting that way given the nakedness of English
compared with other siblings of the alphabet high-jacked
from Roman; you end up pricking your ears to attune
accents that than ol' McDonald had a farm.

that was my initial fascination, the lie of Eden passed down,
like Voltaire on his deathbed being read his departing word,
his own encoded as: this is not the time  to make enemies
he was referring to the devil)...
also: you'll find it hard to find his *éléments de la philosphie
de Newton
... you will find Candide,
and Letters from England... but the elements of Newton's
philosophy will be a holy grail... oddly enough, contrary
to common belief, Voltaire never alludes to an apple
falling on Newton's head, but the book is a joy,
given that it includes diagrams... a bit of an Alice moment
for me: what's the point of books without pictures?
i could give you a chapter-by-chapter schematic of
what's being included so you don't think i'm bullshitting you,
the first chapter is about God... i know, ha ha, Voltaire
the ardent atheists... the third chapter is about the
freedom of the deity and on the great principle of sufficient right;
hold on! i'm digressing again, this was a debate concerning
onomatopoeia! you're probably asking why i've started to
use runes again... imagine what lied more, the tongue or
the eyes... this is crazy geometrics! geometry precipitated
when human went wild encoding sounds, it needed
something rational and coherent to attach itself to, to find
a cure for this crazy phonetic encoding, Pythagoras
attacked (Δ, δ) - i'm sure of that... i mean, can you just imagine
two drunk vikings sitting there, ******* themselves
sound-spotting and dissecting their mouth? which shaped
what, and which was to be cut-off / trimmed after they
poured wax into their ears and started to lip-read?
i mean... how many ****** shapes came from all
the soul-cages being opened with the shape of the mouth
from O?
ᚺ - hail             ᛖ - horse (and i'd say camel, but no camels
so far north)       ᚱ - journey         ᛟ - heritage
      ᛚ - water               ᚷ - gift
                                 i mean, it's amazing how we managed
to cut of subsequent letters we ascribed to things
and create a distinct sounds... but can you the torturous
road toward this end? to have created ~20 distinctions
from nouns? no wonder Aristotle asked to debate
proper names... i'm more inclined to ask a debate about
proper sounds... but still... so many wild geometric shapes
from just one... O... or - (a shut mouth)...
no wonder mathematics emerged: you couldn't really build
a longboat using ᚠ - ᛞ, or a house, what mathematics emerged
was probably when people thus dispersed interacted
via the merchants' enterprises and saw a gold nugget
of applicability write in how so many different people interpreted
looking at the mouth talking...
but i'm but one man, and this is a mystery, for i wonder
how the mind worked in order to write mandarin and
also qin **** huang's wall - i accepted many people died
doing it, and that the Mongol invasion was inevitable,
and that Japan was spared by a tsunami...
but how they took snippets from O to write a phonetic
encoding like 政 (Zheng, which also ascribed the
tetragrammaton at work, with one atom being a surd).
Tim T May 2010
Miss Sharapova can groan
as loud as a fighter jet
today she made Henin sweat
but Roland Garros is still a no-fly zone.
Roland Garros 2010, third round: Henin defeated Sharapova in 3 sets.
Sk Abdul Aziz Oct 2020
Whatever be the season
Whatever be the month
Whatever be the day
When at Roland Garros... Rafa simply makes hay
He is and will remain the best on clay
Year after year..time has the same story to tell
The clay of Paris is still under Rafa's spell
This court for him is not just a tennis court.. It's his home.. His place of meditation
From here he draws strength and inspiration
This year it was number thirteen
Looking forward to number fourteen
Rafael Nadal is one of the greatest tennis players of all time and in particular the greatest clay court player ever. Today he clinched his 13th French Open.
KV Srikanth Jan 2021
Borg and Connors
Fire and Ice
Scandinavian kid
Mid Western  boy
Opposites in Personalities
Opponents in the Game
Playing hands a mirror image
Similar in goal
Immortality in Glory
Each standing in anothers path.
Inherited a Club Sport
One hundred years old
Turned tides in a decade
To bequeath an International One
Compounding of fans
Beats the Market index
If were a stock
Buffett would have Invested
Soros Traded Long
Return on Investment
Calculator would show an Error
It would require a Computer
Stadiums to Capacity
Individual sport
Never seen before
Television rating
Team sports behind
Brands Endorsed
Sales Skyrocketed
Whoever called it a Sport
Every Stadium became a Colosseum
Dont have to go to Rome
Fight till death
Punishing the ball
Revving the Spectators
Players they weren't
Armed with racquets
Complex to the Gladiators.
Clay Grass Turf Cement
Surfaces changed
Battles continued
Tenacity Endurance hit peak
Week after Week
Sun Tzu proved wrong
Winner not won before battle
Fortunes Changing by the point
Art of War put to shame
Fila and Donnay hand in hand
Double ****** Backhand
Long hair with headband
Sporting a Stubble
Magic wrist
Nerves Iced
Looked like Christ
Clay or Grass
Every fortnight in May & June
Five years in a row
Trophies in Stockholm
A feat to reckon
US Open a jinx
Trophy not in the mix
Even Achilles had his heel
Borg his at the Big Apple
66 titles and 11 slams
All at 26
Nothing more to conquer
Cried Alexander
Dropped the Sport
Void felt forever
Opponents missed him
Raised their game
Without him field was tame
Even losing to him gave players Worldwide fame.
Raised by women
To Conquer men
Jimbo trained by Gloria
Player of repute
Backyards turned into courts
Clocks stopped
No ration on duration
Handed over to the great Pancho
Mentored Him Sport and Growth
Jimbo blind to creation
Trophy only in vision
Arrows cannot miss
Clay Turf or Grass
US open belonged to Connors
3 Slams in seventy four
No 1 5 years in a  row
Wilson Steel T 2000 and Slazenger in tow
Cover of Time
A matter of time
Roland Garros dream stopped
Not Tennis but Politics played it's part
Knees  weaken
Spirits shaken
Confidence beaten
Status of Opponent
After a match against the Champion
Played 5 generations of legends and aspirants
Well into his 40s
Beating them all
Young and old
Three decades
One end was the same
Other side changed
Never out of top 10
Entire career
Weekly ranking released
Jimbos inclusion automatic
Collected 109 titles
A record standing still
Darling of the Crowds
Loved by all worldwide
Ended his career in Vegas by Winning battle of the Sexes.
Greatest player of the Century
Both shared second
First among equals
Equals among Legends
The Above a true story
There cannot be a sequel
BC happened in AD

— The End —