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n)Ethno-spirit and Biodiversity (Diogiversity)

Given its ethnikos factor and contribution towards a common origin of multiethnic and languages, in values and traditions, its morphological factors of Verthian sub-mythology, are provided with content, features, colors, and textures of neutrality, focused on a biosphere ecosystem, where the air conditioning, flora-fauna will make Sub-mythological Biodiversity, where the beings that inhabit it and will be in the range of evolution of mythological living beings, whose diversity of genetic seizures, will adopt natural and compound patterns, but always predominant in the biological pattern and organic. Wandering the world in desert places, in alloys and classified plant compounds, emptying their species through the hollow of the atmosphere and through the green grasslands in the reviving surviving evolution of organisms and species that for the first time see each other as a biotype between rocks and plantations, reciprocally among themselves, and extemporaneously generating mythological genetics heritages. Considering millions of years in evolution with explosions of multicellular and fossilized species extinct in massive and occlusive memories. Inert matter and geological strata will make millions of years converted into microseconds in the Verthian Biodiversity of the Duoverse, in a Psychic and spiritual Universe, emerging in all macroscopic perspectives and parapsychological regressions. Impact They will cause the maturity of all the diversity of externality and sensations in new topologies of anonymous universes and species of biodiversity, under a pillar of culture based on the Sub-Mythological biosphere process, encompassing all mythological species where the hope of Life and Super life. Transforming systems of functionality under the protection of spontaneous generation and in a matter that is availably underlined in the mountainous tissues of the mechanics of the subset of the air mass, water, climatic biospheres, and biogeochemistry, that in the unreal juncture of, and inter-procedural reality of carbon, that factor the species key and specimen disclosure, in the collection and in sinks, water drains but without carbon. encompassing all mythological species where the Life expectancy and Super life unfolds.

Hyperdisis, the galaxy connected to the Duoverso, in its biotic diversity, reinsert thick clumps of Nothofagus Obliqua forests, in waste processes, to domesticate the Leiak ethno-forest species, as balance nutrients and repair the disgraceful disgrace of unnatural toxicity and fragile of the agrosystem, maturing cultures and preventive pollination in succulent transfers for purposes of food webs and the environment. Making the appearance of species more effective and perceptible, reunited in community chains of coherence, to amortize low-resource needs and distance economic-political impacts, in view of new base resources and the sustainability of balance of allopathic crops, for the good of driving the extinction of plagues or flagrant excesses not converted, Hyperdisis has a mass of inert matter that creates accesses of resilience, for salinity, rainfall, and human adaptive mythological innovation, given its versatile opening of complement and generation of substances, for the convenience of living beings and No. Having adopted in the context of mythological Galaxy, related to beings of light comparable to distant elements, by means of Psychic Trisomies and tell transportation, for energy sources and soil and water mechanics with Leiak, constituting molecules for the simplification of phenomena of exacerbation of chronic diseases and endogenous. Forests and parks of Hyperdisis in the symbiotic open air, for more airs in microbiological space, in the intimate portion from greatest to least challenge of elements exclusive of antinomies of hieratic human bio culturalization, in a showcase of communities with an interest in technologies and renewable empirical usability, each part doing its scientific role and biodiversity in the portico of its home. As a hieratic quality, presenting amendments that are glimpsed and more existing, although it passes before our eyes without a Carbon Footprint, figuring logical mathematics by sponsoring its count more than a shadowy synthetic body, anticipating super-appraisal measures, averaging them in tiny theological portions, with varied and dissimilar levels of genetic habitats and alleles or heterozygous in the taxonomic functionality of reproductive and approving biological elements. The wealth and abundance of this item are delegated to Leiak, in all the revolutionary processes of the oak forests and the high mountains,

Within the gasifications of Cinnabar, there was Carbon in its Life cycle, being Zefián; the curator of the Duoverse, destined for a lifetime, under Universal and intergalactic effects. Claiming innocent beings with greater attributes of predation survival in the ecological chain, with the mix of Tsambika and Theoskepatis, granting multidirectional dynamic residual matter for green energy emissions. Feedback quantifies offset options in carbon circulation, offsetting multipurpose CO₂ inventory. Through the darkness Zefián and Vernarth traveled in the streets of Rhodes, and in Tsambika looking for the distilled portions of the carbon and sulfur emanated by the Cinnabar. In the same way Etréstles in Theoskepatis initiating with the Archpriest by virtue of the honors and the rubies of accumulations of water mass and of sulfur and carbonated air, which hung over the low sky of Rhodes and Kimolos. They were going to the Necropolis of Hellenika, when the gnostic rampages were glimpsed in the surrounding slab, minting half of the gold bars for the great goldsmith who erects the conventionality of having the physis imperturbably established, as a matter of patriarchal character. They entered Helleniká and the souls that wandered were ringed under crescent-encrusted rings, lavishing the independence of the night in the hands of Borker, which was reflected in the capitals of a mausoleum. Borker is consistent in saying that he is free in Helleniká, In the myth of the dustbin woodworm of the frieze where Etréstles perched next to Zefián's strap, who would manipulate the gold and alabaster chain, to pull its ascetic and rubies from it, approaching a final night in the astronomical autumn, in the last parapsychological regression of the god Vertumnus, which would embody the expiration of the Helleniká friezes by Kashmar branches decayed from vegetation and the tears of the Etruscan god Vertumnus. Making the branches of the Kashmar, the epithet of heraldry in the noble metals and woods of the autumn, and the mountainous temple of the one that follows the equinox in the meridian of seven days towards the southern and northern hemisphere. in the last parapsychological regression of the god Vertumnus, which would embody the expiration of the Helleniká friezes by Kashmar branches decayed from vegetation and the tears of the Etruscan god Vertumnus. Making the branches of the Kashmar, the epithet of heraldry in the noble metals and woods of the autumn. They enter the Necropolis of Helleniká, by upper and lower trays, cordoned off by obelisks in a series of petrified labels, in the square sections of the convergent ones and the linearity of the central pyramid, where they sponsored all the sectors of the stones of the prismatic geometric body, next to some piloneos that flanked the third of those that were in the figurative memory of funerary monuments of Vernarth. In harmony with the radiosities of the Cinnabar, they purged the carbon emanations in the intra-bodies of petrified breaths, expanding in the segments of frenetic life of the behavior of the inert matter, crushed by the organic, polishing the degrading character of the excavated prayers, under a superfluous shade. It was already dawn, Etréstles and the Archpriest broke the loaves to deposit them in the bowl of the Day, stretching in the arms of heaven under the gargle of the god Vertumnus who forged from the materiality of Jupiter. Vernarth nodded his head to the movement of the winds that cut the profile of a Citarista yawning on the frieze that raises all the crowns of the princes of the living-dead, making them part of the royal occasion, preparing petty spaces and tyrannies for devouring vassals in Helleniká, from the lair of his rib one, sees Diogenes of Sinope emerge, splitting with his doctrinal staff all the Isthmian paroxysms, which declared the cell of his life as Diogiversity.

"There were murmurs of astonishment at the surprising response of the wise man because no one dared to speak like that to the king. Alexander the Great asked: "Why do they call you Diogenes, the dog?", To which Diogenes replied: "Because I praise those who give me, I bark at those who don't give me, and the bad ones I bite." Again, more murmurs, but Alejandro was not moved by those answers and said: "Ask me what you want." So Diogenes, undeterred, replied: "Get away from where you are, you cover the sun for me"..., Vernarth replied: "Look for him in the bones of those who refused to die and fear beyond expiration who rejoices in the cold of the dean ossuary seed, without heat or memory here in Corinth and its Diogiversity ".

o)Reflection space length (π)

The hemispheres were out of proportion, one another was modified in the air, leaving the horizon exorbitant and the poles out of square. Coastal the lengths of the sun around areas that some Helleniká countrymen had never put on the crowns of their consciousness. Certain pressure changes dislocated other modules in the filaments that had rudimentary inaccuracies, creating reflection space failures in the installation of the Duoverso, due to the due calculation defect. The observations of Hyperdisis, generated superpositions of the Zigzag Universe, before the crescent moon, after the full moon, again de-calculating the sphere of Hyperdisis in relation to the ecstatic length of itself in the hands of a third of a second a day, to overflow in impositions that They revealed Dekas Cove in Kimonos(π).

The value of the opinion of reflections will be the originality of breaking of statics, of the motors of the verb and the conscience of the flushed being, and of erudition of the naive contrast when decanting the perceived morality. They concur with the moral value in every sub-mythology of an ambivalent being of supernatural human co-belonging, not dependent on gnoseological reflections, rather spontaneous under the embankment of reason. The latter being absent in the shadow of its shadow, no reflection can take hold of anti-values, self-valorized in contingencies under the effects of the drug of lies or truth, in a difficult equation to refer to in gnosis treatises, declaring the absence of consciousness to species without reflection or length of their molecular evolution, in evidence of mythological humans. The triangle Patmos, Rhodes, and Kímolos, make up a Venusian adonis, of stimuli in the nostrils of Aion, which sneezed on the integrity of the reflex arc at high speed superseded in the tremors of Athens until Hyperdisis, flashing anatomical and pejorative on the optic nerve of the Colossus Rodino, and the twisting of the multi-personal muscles..., but already depersonalized..., with little telluric reaction in the core of the symmetry of his legs, dodging as he thrashed on his frowned arms, behind the legs of the lycaons..., digging his jaws in reflex arches, for ages that only an immemorial one would enchant him, and be it the throbbing of the earth in the crust and seams of the calcined Colossus. Existing like this their reflection of attenuated light, they shook through the sea full of sinewy pieces of precise length. Frequently in the hydronium cations, undermining the temporality of Tsambika in random stones in the humid, and dark narrowness of the anthropic reflection, having lived in the heavenly paradise that formed them by the volcanic tube and its syngenetic, by the erosion of the subsoil of Rhodes. In Helleniká, everything that is expected, flows with the Meltemi tubularly, so that they are polyps of fluctuating desolation or placed above all zephyr or anti-wind, in ammonoids or ammonites; reviving from the seas it flows with the Meltemi tubularly, so that they are polyps of fluctuating desolation or placed above all zephyr or anti-wind, in ammonoids or ammonites; reviving from the seas from Devonian to Cretaceous, escaping from the ferocities of the Etesios and these same escaping from the roars of Vernarth.

p) One-Dimensional Beams II

When their ears fell in love with the Orthoptera or Grylloideas before Joshua, the night became restless, abandoning them from their shelters, they brushed the seeds of the thistle that trembled with the new millennium of the Duoverse. Levitating their ailerons in the tenors of their birth and dilettante sounds, before an ovipositing candor of the remains of the abdomen that remained in their jaws, always being from one of the Beams, for the largest Enciphers that hung from their antennas in search of Joshua's telepathic messages in the manger. Sappho of Mytilene, also known as Sappho of ****** or simply Sappho, pretended to be a marigold proliferating in the twenty corridors of the Greek poet, and also as the tenth poet in the other ten that was reflected with transparent wings of the dew that stuck, phenomenal of physique -Saphonic and in the recent rain of wind and condensed air, in the form of drops due to the sudden decrease in temperature in contact with cold surfaces. Sappho's dew was talked about in Kafersesuh, usually when it comes to condensation on a Poetic Grylloidae surface, naturally on the ground cover or artificially in a dull cloudy crystalline, in the amount of supernatural tradition, heroes, superheroes, and anti-heroes conspiring with the territorialities of hexagonality.

The Aramaic message comes forward with vigor from the orthopterans and birds that piled up on the journey, going back and forth. The Beams shone from the celestial kingdom holding on to the Cherubim and the Archangels, through the paths of conversion and the support of the bizarre Christian time, in implacable hegemony for the propaedeutic of phylogeny, but more than perfumers chemistry and the same creation. carrying Lepidoptera winged tetra and Sand Crickets, on the interlocking and obfuscated pheromones from a nascent-elemental child, in his own evangelical philosophy, from a winged dimensionality and in the gloom of Manger shouted and aligned, before the compendiums of double pyramidal landmarks and of inflection, of his word in the Grylloids and panaceas created in the affinities of the world and Animalia, stylizing muleteers carriers, phrasing acronyms and parabolizing the polygonic nomenclature of the child made a territorial man on the wings of a Cricket, already being it !, but representing himself as a lifeless man in the entirety of an advantageous canon child, from a sudden bi-dimensionality of Grylloideos. A great Zohar light gathered all towards a whole in those vantage points of terrestrial columns and orthopterans that Joshua felt in advance in his resined ears, like irreversible entropy giving back his wise existence to prepare them for the day of his holocaust. Pre Existing in catharsis and busilis substance of divinity connected with the Grylloid phylogenetic species, classifying until the Aramaic crackle, pontifying pheromones settled in the lithosphere site of Gethsemane, coincidence in the wading of a Libraco period, or in the phenomenological simultaneity of Eukaryota and Glaucophyta until late Animalia, giving relation parental in the characters of the vibrational timbre of the Beams and the atavistic pedestal, readapting in the evolutionary ellipticals of tetra-winged species, allowing to change the ancestral linguistic accouterments in processes of redesigning the genetic historical tree..., divine and increasing.

Inter-Duoverse, in space demography, has been frequented since today in a nuptiality between the Sun and Earth, wrapping the inter-generational homes that have prostrated themselves to the One-dimensional Beams, evolving millions of years between links of angels from the north and the south., for each year between half years and decades that the ancestors are passionate about, unleashing in what they aged in their youthful lives and eternal ideals, as an atom not guaranteed in families that did not get to know their Duoverse. When they walk through the urbanized farm of their parents they go in their shoes and in the paternal and inter-parental sun barefoot, the children travel far from the monographic patriarchy, declaring themselves between psychic families and unstable plots of core conformity and procreation.

The line of supra healthy cerebral is born from the Beams of deforested family trees and treasured in the Trunk of the seventh ascending generation, towards a nefarious tribal of industrious and vegetating regressive parapsychology, bringing zombie societies, to great lethargy that disorganizes the parallel emotion of the Being descended from a Messiah, with the prophetic organization. There in the Koumeterium of Messolonghi, in past generations, the "IO" was omitted to limit them from the spellings like Ghost Cemetery lost in other lost sacramental ancestors. The inappropriate location of our ancestral duties has guided us in the axis of the pabulum, before the second coming of Messiah Parousia, to continue the re-sprouting foliage of the Universal theological tree. The children of the seven intergeneration generations, will be from the endearing of a patriarchal family, and those of Exo family lineage will be from outside the non-generational family, where everything flourishes according to the requiems of ******-domestic economies, and in the new chimera from new shocks and reprimands, already being spouses the Sun and the Earth after being divorced from a deluge of immolations and inter-millennia and rotations, further than those of any prophet wandering without advancing or rotating, enlisting and expiring in succumbed and pre-historicized generations of other prehistoric ones. Pre and post Flood; not presenting itself as the object of linking a thousand decades where not even a holy chirp from the Thrush, praises on the windows of the world bringing us babies that are born without past or future quantum generations. Ready to the hint of Duality and its nuptiality with the Sun and the Earth, They will make us magical creditors of the increase in demography and of unions that will marry in inter generations, not seeing passions in exhaustion, under the grass of the allegory of defeated love. Giving ourselves conjugal virtuosity, but of immanent dogma for the purposes of multi-figurative coexistence, under the Yoke of an individualized Faith, in the passing of millennia, we continue to crawl on the floor of the nebulae, and we do not rise to establish ourselves as masters of ecstasy, and the pendulum of the stars, creating us more in the orthogonal egalitarian of the cosmos and its Vernarthian architecture, of poly productivity, of Sun-Earth and its post-genetics, of high-grade clay, expanding with halberds on the self-insolated Suns, and highly calorific inherited towards a rupture of Solar freedom leaving us in the horizontal, not having ascendants of sin enriching their illicit chromosome. Made a beast, from the inertia of a paradise full of hidden public and private exchanges, but not secular, for those who pay tributes of ecstasy in a reborn and weakened state. This is how Diogiversality is verticalized (Diogenes's anthological action), concluding the variants that weaken the nexus of the denatured society of its atavistic social nuclear concomitant, extending eco-life gaps, but eco-unstructured and crucial inter-generational nature, being of arbitrary passion and of seismological doctrines, of haughty morality and of sociology fabrics without body or motor, with frail of castes and generations evolved age in a retrograde and elemental psychic sense, but biologically and reversibly to their boomerang lineage.

q)Amphibology Cosmogonic, Sub-Mythological root

The threshold, as a minimum rubric, must be in force from the Constellation of Orion, with barely a hundred millionths under the same eye of Orion and his psychophysical space, sensitive to the falcado charioteers and the water vessels on the backs of the probable Barnard Loop., and its nebula presence. The icy impulsiveness brought her under her right shoulder and the lean hollow under her arm unraveling from a staircase, at the entrance point of Betelgeuse coming from the cosmogony of Eridanus and in tune with Ptolemaic astrology. In the Sibyl and with a hint of a metric brilliant mass triplet, Betelgeuse Orionis, is the scale of the Aulos and piccolos expelling hydrogen as an Ace in 240 scales of harmonies and in sounds of light, for cycles and years of Light. The binary of Orion, is pre-born of the sub-mythological root, with binaries of Poetic Parapsychology, or Para-poetical; which is the trapezoid and the kinetics of the hunter Orion arrowing the Pleiades and its nebulous plains, with diametrical diarthrosis in his synovial joints, with the third militarizing joints already formed by the hyaline cartilage, which joins the two bones with the synovial fluid, before reaching the deltoid of Hunter Aurion, to awaken the Asleep world.

Vernarth in one of his adventures in Pella, scapula with his arms the force of the friction discs of the Olympics and corrected his hands and shoulders, for this purpose of Aurion and his dilettante Astro Betelgeuse, with giant arrows against matters towards the sky of its Constellation, embedded in beaten Odyssey and turpentine in the sullen Hellenistic, being for May its amber trapeze of trunk and arm, in each hand a Xifos and Dorus, always in right-handed hemispheric pathologies of their shrewd hands in Kopis swords, and in the memories of the wind that throws pain to the whistle of the combatant, when the meteorites decay in the Tyrrhenian Sea. With his brass-bronze club and Vernarth's corrosive breath, he proceeded to file odyssey on Eos's ******* and peduncles; Goddess of the Dawn, in Dionysian beauty in bulk, Mintaka, Alnitak, Alnilam, (The Three Mariah), For the twelfth lunation of the Celestial Vault, together with Pleione, in its bolometric Oceanid matrix; against borderline stellar magnitude in the major and minor dogs, and in there a priori waves of misdeeds lending measurements in the eyes of Aurion, always henchmen on their Pleiades.

From this intricacy, Cosmo-is born the Vernarth Duoverso incited towards the Horcondising, so that it is mythical co-property at the origin of the universality of the Duoverse in the Vernarth scapulae, bleeding towards the cosmos that was born from his stellar blood, conjuring chaos and uncertainty in messenger Gonies, facilitating community life free of ethnocentric, psychic, intersubjective life, the metaphor of myth and dogmatic, by the imaginary struggle that leads its bleeding back over the Cosmos, and its demiurgic brilliance over the atmosphere of the earth like bronzes that twist in the necks of oxen, that urinate on the officers of the Barnard Loop, and its polyphonic magnetic exciter, on it the ***** of Orion falling on the poles, like flagrant Amphibology.

The Kanti Steed and the Aurion nebula, to the beat of a waltz ionize, lavish chemical ions free of electrons, on the neutral molecules of Betelgeuse, to proclaim in the nerves of the shoulders and its bronze club, as musical praxis and harmony net, giving way to the nebula and the art of the Duoverso, which shows the pristine astral days, how his alchemical arm sprouting in chemo-astralities of the pectoral, and his armpit that joined in its maximum stick, cutting down roots of Olive Bernar, behind Barnard's Loops, in the midst of runaway stars that are systematized in their ionized bleeding esplanade, such as Stellae Novae, who retrograded the astronomical ritual into cosmogony, and in her escape by going at night to sleep near her father Poseidon and Euryale, who cheered him near the grassy fields to paste explosive clay on the sheet of his drunken smiley face with Ionic wine, in advance of spreading the nascent Duoverso throughout the new world.

r) Hyperdisis

Sitting on the edge of Andromeda, in his planetary chamber Zefián; The Duoverso computer separated the parasitic inter-chamber from the Duoverso, which would be born from the Auriga, which in his buggy would unleash the senses of structures and luminosity between this colossal interplanetary chamber. Being between points that venture through the axon of time infinitesimal and longitudinally for light-years, which even so, will intervene from the Duoverse, for thermal purposes and other changes of the remnants, when especially the luminosity will speak of the destruction of the darkness inherent in the eyes of the universe, which can only stabilize areas that have not been fused in the discs of the Universe-Duoverse spatiality, long before the initial explosive between the Constellation of Orion and Andromeda. Globular clusters that will make up the perfect delay of transfusing the blood and no other, which makes the character Hyper naming and hyper-pectoral blood, which flows from this tri-astral polynomial, compromising the method of area, shape, and refinement of the sagittal profile of Hyperdisis in the Duoverse in the reversible intergalactic plane. Going from lenticular to irregular over the keystone of the trapezoid, towards the right arm of Orion, where its radius becomes hypocentral sequentially, but it takes advantage of interstellar matter, to generate its own light. Some explicit explosive arms of Andromeda were expelled from their center towards the right arm of Orion, for the purpose of implosions in the effect of the clubs or snails, as a sublime effusion on other stars, which lost essential stellar mass, to differ from one another.

Radio-Patmos, or galactic energies of Andromedian origin, would arrive as devout prayers at the border of Skalá, such astro-omegas and Invisible Universes, which inhabit the flaccidity of the Universe of Consciousness of the pole contact with the Xifos or Kopis, when Andromeda contacts the spur of the clubs or snails, inciting the capos of Astro-Omegas spaces, which would begin to take the front and front, after having been the atrium of invisible stars, only visible in the spurs of the swords, which were only moistened with the viscous blood draining from Orion, towards Hellenic lands as Omega age, for Vernarth early when he carries the keys of the Omega World, towards the shadowy proto galaxies, knowing that the Milky Way and Andromeda come so close in their stellar mass, being able to collide in a few million of light years, in advance, since the Duoverse of Hyperdisis will be formed as a Galaxy of change, to interact with each other, dismembering, but re-transforming into the new speculative nucleus of the Duoverse as a great Black Hole, embedded in the Kardiá of Patmos.

Hyperdisis, navigates from the most ancient confines, from the origin of nothingness itself on the threshold of the Universe, but now it is already converted into the Duoverse, re-implanting itself in helical polarity, and in bifurcations of luminosity, of colorful reincarnations or astral, to consent to the cessation of darkness and valuing luminance, possessing colorimetry and chromatic steps of childish tales in infant galaxies, which in all the lives of Greece and Vernarth delivered for their ancestors, articulating the iconology of Orion, in candlesticks per square meter, in vigils of:

LV is the luminance, measured in Nits or candela per square meter (cd / m²).

• F is the luminous flux, in lumens for the Andromeda triad, Milky Way e Hyperdisis in conjunction with Orion.
• dS is the surface element considered in the triad of Kímolos, Rhodes, and Patmos.
• dΩ is the solid angle element, from Vernarth Omega and the origin of the Duoverse.
• θ is the angle between the diameter of Andromeda and the Milky Way (2.5 million light-years)

The luminance can be defined from the radiometric magnitude and the radiance without more than weighting each wavelength by the sensitivity curve of the eye. Thus, if LV is the luminance, Lλ represents the spectral radiance and V (λ) symbolizes the sensitivity curve of the Vernath's eye of the Betelgeuse area below, dumping plasma and bruises on the galaxies and the Orion Eyes.

s) Zigzag Universe

The Zig Zag Universe was and will be excluded between time and space, in a world adjusted to the senses that are driven within the contextual totality, the world and the biosphere framed in the phenomena of the Zig Zag Universe, being born on a stellar night when Our life searched the earth, being able to see how cordial matters of the cosmos caressed its cosmology, making it its magistracy and descendants of the Hellenic cosmos, in constant caresses of the universe already predisposed to the Bing Bang, emerging from another type of self-observation, seeing ourselves in the face of Horcondising anti-material and Universal Biomass. We preexist under science that models the system of energy and matter in causes of ancestors, with whom their vital and ours sneakily crashed. Gravity made great paternity in the Vernarth Biomass, being in the Dodecanese, being cosmos in its arcuate curvature, which makes us screen with the moon in its romantic astrophysical swings, and with the exaggerated geometry of a zigzag. We are the versatile and multi-dynamic mass that expands simultaneously in the head that pauses in the Nothofagus Obliqua of Vernarth's Horcondising and also time2-space2, which has not been troubled by the origin or abscess of the stars that move irregularly in zigzag, for the fractality of its component, which is clearly Aramaic blue light, in circuits of clusters and movements brushing the air, attracting the attention of the entire order of the hypnotized universe and making the duplication of the universe itself appear before them; in Duoverso that is the Universe shaken and young of its gratitude's ".The distribution of nearby galaxies are keys to the paleo universe already arranged in macro waves, which are percentages of spaces in the Trisolate energy fields, which interact with the Mashiach of Gethsemane phylogeny, now tending to a stagnant decomposed future, towards a specific frozen present. Its final station is to bet the Zig Zag Universe on the re-expanding temporal Medieval chrestomathy, in gregarious qualities of Sub-mythology, already conformed here in Archangelos. The implosion of gravity has created worlds of visibility in great astronomical yearnings, in some fractions of time zigzagged by millions of fractured light-years, as an irregularity that resembles the measurements of everything quantifiable, being omniscience or not, acquiring the hexagonality of the birthright in the passage, Here the Mashiach emerged and died in its abstraction in the One-dimensional Beams and in the foreign eyes, eroding those who are mortal and do not see with divine eyes in the self-resemblance, of our hypochondria and of the failed plan to amplify the size of the unknown analytic, of this new dimension in the implosive movement of the Verthian Duoverse. The nature of the snowflakes in Bethlehem are natural fractals, detailed in their nature and in the natural infinity, here the privileged new world was envisioned, for self-similarity in the speculative and cosmogonic functions of Vertnarth, at intervals in each space of the shadowy walls, bringing accelerated courier bombs from Gethsemane among mutated olive trees to other humans. "Its correlation is an infinite fractal with reversible observable time.

Finite is the curvature, between the time that walks between the grove of the Duo-Universe as an alternative of energy Zig Zag and Duoverso, which triggers our subconscious observable world, which is a great reflecting lantern eye, which ignores and prescribes extreme distant and focal parts of the One-dimensional Beams of Kafersuseh in Ein Karem, since the Duoverse is the trial Universe that the Mashiach had, before coming to the Holy Land, provided by his form of Hyperdisis escorting him from Betelgeuse and in Orion. Change from arduous colors to the gradient in Avant-Garde, for the confines of perspectives and verbality, in amendments of physical fields, interwoven by an external gravitational means. The macro waves, are exposed matter not contained in the abrupt changes of the optical selection of the Mashiach with the One-dimensional Beams, attracting selection crystals to atomize them, in reaction disturbances and recreation of multiform plasma saviors of Christian cosmic. The double expression of macro waves and the equation of them over the axial of the universe turned into the universe Duoverse, in millions of light-years will continue in the Duoverse, for ectoplasmic reconversion energy with great margins of assertiveness. The cartography in hyper diction will correct errors of the current universe, losing itself in the second thousandths of figures that separate us from the Universe, but all being more than time... !, remaining at the expense of the wick of all electro-matter " The double examination of the macro waves and the equation of them on the axial of the universe turned into Duoverse, in millions of light-years will continue in the Duoverse, for ectoplasmic reconversion with great margins of assertiveness. The cartography in hyper diction will correct errors of the current universe, losing itself in the second thousandths of figures that separate us from the Universe, but all of them being more than time... !, remaining at the expense of the wick of all electro-matter. The sub-mythology having already been constituted, Hestia appears, having slept a great slumber. When he appeared before Vernarth in Tsambika, he was seen changing in size, when he was six meters away he looked dwarf and when he was already two meters from him he looked monumentally huge, but in a versatile physiognomy, therefore he was already appreciated in his last steps, with her domestic Goddess figure that emanated light-years from the chimneys of the habitable galaxies. The critical immanence will happen, pre-existing of the perfectible plan for the Universe Zig Zag and Hyperdisis, as Hyper-Hestia, bringing torn words for those who were approaching the main altar of Vas Auric, which was in the great ratio of the proscenium in the vicinity of Tsambika, between Mind / Meditation for constant mechanisms of Wisdom / Meditate, according to the cosmological constant, taking them perhaps to the beginning of a decade and the third universe called Traverse. The oscillations of all these fantasies, Vernarth observed, but he knew that he would have to collide with these worlds finally already precipitated, and of temperature that acted on the average of the normal range, therefore it was imminent to mutate it to the provisional Christian Duoverse, which moves backward. among the dizzying lights of creation. Immediately afterward, the Universe has torn apart and lost among those around it, establishing itself in units of millions of years of light compressed in the piccolo Aulos, which Hestia carried in one of its golden hands, from the prytaneion, igniting with the flames of the Kardiá on fire and the passion of consanguineous love, "Prytaneum", the omphalos stone, marking the navel of the world with the boast of wandering towards the island of Delos, in the daily warmth of a spring afternoon in Rhodes. She is a woman with veils on her face, always walking to and from her virginal abode, in the house of foolish or vestal virgins, there is no Hestia, only maybe there are some similar ones staying in the cold fire of her menopause, losing fertility afterward. that his father swallowed it, and then it was expelled from himself, regurgitated in flames of love candles in a blessed house and full of immunity, giving the Duoverse another geometric category with never contained angles, sliding vibratory between the distances that discount minutes of the Hestian space, for such a corollary by approaching its finitude, and inaugurating the sub-finite, that it will never be the source of the end of a disconcerting end of time, neither equationally consummated nor physical. "This consolidates the Duoverse into Duo-Universe, expressed in figures that moderate the length of a physical state before it is finished and restarted in a process that does not end (sub-infinity)

t) Vernarth Omega (Ω) - Preface

before facing the Achaemenides. Being Omega and Micron in the warlike primer of their cause, within the prophetic in all necropolises of tiny omega (ω), towards an Omega that reaffirmed the good hand in Saint John the Apostle by rewriting the Apocalypse twice, coexisting the same but with the voice of Vernarth commanding the ten thousand Falangists, who made up inter-generational gaps, of camouflaged alien ancestors. For this purpose, he opened the windows with their pillars sheathed with tetrachloride of chlorine, at solid angles of Ω, in what was Virgo institutionum / Aurion-entity that interfered by projections and leaks, which converged on the strut of the omphalos of his heavenly father dealing frequently and bled his immortality, constituting from a helper being to the planes of subconscious reprogramming and perspective. With his arms raised, in each hand a raised sword to pierce the vanishing point, between the spaces that were ascribed, under the solid projection, from an observer that inhibits ad limits the biomass in all the masses of aqueous filter and lumen flow, towards the throne of the angelic guardian of Avant-guard by the stereotype and sclerosis of Zeus in his dissociated physicality, even though he is an amorphous entity with pulverized magnitudes, between Pi and Golden numbers, fading away without area or volume. Vernarth in the humanoid apocalypse was transfigured from a solid point in Hyperdisis, as a direct escape settlement to Aurion, towards a surface of conical vestige in three-dimensionality towards Andromeda, the Milky Way, and the shoulder of Betelgeuse,

Vernarth distracted the emeritus stars in the corner of his room and in the convex the points of his celestial patriarchs in the conical spheres of perenniality, leaving only solid angles in each of the two parts of space-delimited by two semi-planes that start from their common edge, under the ideal geometric concept and that it is only possible to partially represent it as duplication in parallelograms with a common side, symbolizing two half-planes, making from all distances seclusion of visions in the culmination of imagination and apparent angles, seen from any point of the Celestial Vault in invisible counterpoint.

The decalcified cells of Vernarth solfying together with Sophocles in orpheons after the victory of Salamis. Already being a tragedy in the next act of the prologue and their friendship bordering on his tragedy, he continues to exist in energetic arms to write, and Vernarth to dispute the characters from a regular prologue writing with his own blood hematology verses, which traveled meters and that they shrunk from the anti-verses scarring their declaimed intra-breath, in corals that only the wind clarifies of what precedes and happens towards the suffering, in the metrics of the Areimos chorus that were lectured anti-verses, and that they tried to ****** him from the hands to Sophocles, in immortality that refined him by abandoning him in sub-units. With masks and mythical cycles, he mixed the metaphorical facsimile of momentum and the separation of friendship with him, seeing him in an episode of his works, and instead of Vernarth's transcript sheltering him in the origins of the volatilizations of his orpheons, converted into physical waves of a dramatic-oracular order. Gods re-transformed into divination and futuristic germination, they were hidden dormant and forgotten in times of subconsciousness in the Selenite collection, felt in the Colossi signs of parliamentary, where the oracle leans on the lines of vibrational words and how they cough their " páthis "in the place where the language dissociated from the heart nucleus speaks. In misguided divination, the oracular mantic brought the cold of loneliness and the fiery heat that guesses in the laurel forests in oracular daphnomancy, Vernarth omega self-erects as a versatile column that temporalizes the threads of his organic brain, creating synaptic logos in Pashkein or the alert regret of abandoning the arm that rewrites his heroic Sophoclean and tragediographic biography, in ancients transiting in disintegrated emotionality and ****** Hellenic neurotransmission, "Two omega men or omega speedometers, carrying neurons from ankylosed and frustrated herd of pleasure, for tripartite meson form of routine grinding in Alzheimer's lost, lost in sympathetic and para-sympathetic routines, with probability of Hellenic gray matter; That is to say, of all memory that does not sin of ignorance in the ancient world, in more than nineteen hours of vehemence, the dangers will brighten when reliving nth times in the twilight of omega, Vernarth, was already narrowing on the tracontero Eurydice, to save his pains, deposed in terms that would renew anti-economies by supplying unsustainable in liquefactions and in synaptic melts, extra energetic vesicle of pure natural law of the eyebrows, of lunation that rests in the inter millennium, beating with ecstasy in the Buddhist suttas, and in the adaptation of the flesh of the hypersonic fissures of the Meltemi, and attachments that still beat over the dermis of pain. Vernarth draws his sword Xifos of phenomenal structure and he cuts on the Sutta or sermon that mimicked him at the time of the lunation, doing sabotage of redemption of the anti-verse from the court of Sophocles, as a myth-saboteur and anti-value, overvaluing the wiles of the same utilitarian tragedy, conquering in the curtain of mourning and sadness, unguarded and overcome by the stoic duel of jubilation. From here Vernarth, opens the gates of hell, eight hundred times going mad with omega value, by reiterating omeganymy, creates the numbering of the anti-verse and the suffering that does not even sleep further from the departure of a soul and a body only asleep of concave omega, overlapping in golden transfinite chests, which reorder the natural numerals with the ordinal transfinite omega, but on frictionless wheels of other omegas that break in recirculation rules on alpha, in supra omega levels such as parades, stamens, episodes, and Vernarth-omega paradigmatic exodus.

Omega I Prologue: "Once upon a time, amidst a rain of clouds full of drama, in a time that was oriented regime of the armpit of Betelgeuse and Aurion, 334 BC, it was the penultimate breeze of Tsambika, in the spiritual devotion that hovered over the unison voice in the magnanimous Zeusian chorus, as an alternate event of imprisoning past and next in an episode of the present act. The expectant was curious about the retouched makeup of the drama's superlative consonant, in a disembodied place, but with a good narrative source when it came to fruition. Here the myth is plausible, among everything mythical, more than all the super sums of expectations of the Ismo "

Parod I: "For the submissive words on the stage of the trident fire, where I have to warm my hands with ashes of eternal fire"
(Directing the scenes through the coripheum, there is the master lord who, in flames and by unequal numbers, pawned in the Aulos and piccolos, whose bare feet bordered the risk of the bellies of the Maenad damsels united in processions, between princes, powers and Dionysian dances holding on to the Pufios; in Baquian and ceremonial liturgy near Vernarth, taking a glass every seven minutes in animosity, in cages of his stuck little finger, whistling from organic pimping, next to dancers raising an arm and directing the palm towards the heaven, while the other remained down with the palm towards the earth; in this position, since he was like Vernarth buried by the tides of Patmos wandering him in times that marked the entrance from Mars to Jupiter, and from autumn to winter in fifteen times agreed with Sophocles, hanging from the penultimate to the entrance with his trembling voice desalted..., tolerating himself in his own tragedy)

This is I: "Through the right hemi-body, Vernarth intoned his laterality exposed in harsh penumbras, while Hera brandished over his existentialism clouds of oatmeal and candies in a liturgy, a homily that personified the Stasis, in the choral intermission resisting his angry hands in tragic passion and frenzy, unleashing oratory of self-blame, unraveling drama-tragic, and in each pause the emotion that was accompanied in new episodes when it was stoked "

(Vernarth says: "submitted in parts that are not its parts, my pain has blinded me, where it has embittered the conflict of ethical interest if the stars as a public cheer are anointed, sentencing the opposition of other lesser stars who cheer what that does not shine. The principle of the voice violates the normal parenthesis, which is governed by itself in the omega voice, mocking the modal in four magistrates, in martyrdoms of an ideal of the procession, each one being with his super-private toga, before me It must not be who recognizes if I will be who I am, on the seventh judgment of my surviving ethics)

Episode I: "Vernarth extrapolates the values of his judgment, which override the first, the coryphaeus directs his promenade from the countryside on his Horse Alikantus"

(Vernarth says: "I have instantiated the steps that my chestnut crossed with you in the future if I am to sing with a sorrowful voice, no choir will be able to follow me when you are gone. However, I have to define what personifies who, more than a thousand miles away, carries with him the lamp that opens the light of your roguish contemplation... "
Alikantus wailing says: "From the luster of your heartbeat, I obfuscated the jailer from your ribs, for the preference of the one who takes you even further in tempestuous pro-hedonistic prose "

Exodus I: "Sometimes the endings smell like fields of lavender, where the call of the almighty is heard, to take him over his loaded plantations, which are emerging from the dialogues in the afternoon with its twilight, as well as stanzas that smell of lavender anointing, separated in syllables and tonic that flex my charm, not to say that I was anointed with Lavender when I was prepubescent "

(In fifteen times, in syllables and rakes, the sentences of its paragraphs are sterilized, leaving the audience speechless, without a gesture or word that emanates from a sacred paradise, rather from the Stasis that never purged the omission of the syllable that is not of proscenium nor trident, but it is umlauts on Omega, between syllables of fire that burn from its proscenium)

With few and precise changes of consciousness, Vernarth approaches his Omega Point, as the end of his self is identical to his consciousness. He was leaving Tsambika and Kímolos, diligent towards Theoskepatis, warning Etréstles for defiance goods in the aftermath of the Eschaton. His spiritual cerebellum faded identically when he wandered through the distances of the entities that competed and are prominent, transforming his Hetairoi reliquary, here his tendentious impulse begins and dehumanizes him by becoming a Celestial entity, but with Noosphere endowment. The tendencies are established hyper-connected, with him Tsambika, Theoskepatis, and Patmos were triangulated for consummations and finality from the rudiment of Universal deity, reprogramming the end of restricted humanity to a mere boundary of dogmatic morality declared existential.

Within the Omega points, his unfolding acted as a disembodied statue and redemption of similarity and humanity, leading him to a self-conspiracy, by abandoning himself to his own equal, for the duration of the final sulfurous sublimation of the Cinnabar's margin of abstraction, after joining in all the quantum, physical and biological lines, making the Duoverse an inter chamber of the prior Master in a process of change, to sensitize his image of physical-chemical Man, but of God in his rigid powers. Cataloged as hommo sapiens who expresses himself in fallen beings under the arms of his sword in a limpid target, rather than in his own pointed tongue, and steely towards the point of unification in the hyper-dimensional of good achieve spatiality and volume, only contacted by his devoid of a Xifos hand. Consciousness rarely loomed in its compendium in nth bytes and data, much more than those recirculated in astrobiological quantum, creating blind exclusive and patrimonial universes, on the basis of nth bytes, which kept reorganizing itself in the personality of the unknown, fewer than four bridges of consciousness united in their own gregarious universe. The transcendence of the basic data of consciousness will lie in the Maenads, and their deliberate acre magic, extending through the limbs of the Nymphs, to re-possess it and take them to the confines of mystical paranoia, perhaps towards the embodied Vestal Virgins, purging their paths that they notice a variant of licentious departure in the stanzas when seeking final swings, which are not for the sake of shedding everything before the Universe rescinds its intellectual limitations, contracted in an orgiastic Imaginary Universe, and the precariousness of the concept transporting us to the origins of the species and its behavioral rapture of loss of sensation, and reason, for this reason, Vernarth takes them with him for his ******* and alienated perceiving of inherent reality and its opposite sunset. The ministry of the sacramental mystery is the consciousness of the Dionysian being in gestation, wanting to be the paroxysm of its equivalent, in an eternal Omega effect, for the purposes of omeganymy of conscious chaos, being the same portion of omega ad limit of its secondary reluctant personality of being, to found the hermit solitude on his revived empty ego, residing in his being by bilocating with two idiosyncrasies for a Venarthian Thiasoi, succumbing to weightlessness over all the Maenads and the intoxication of community in its opacity,

The madness was a transcript of reasons lost by the Vernarthian Omeganymy, sometimes the disproportionate of his steps by more than what should be generated was objected to in the circles of the Tsambika monastery. The unification of blood was confused by the viscous wine of the mysterious foliage of the Diospyros tree that led them through the enigmatic unaware, in primary practices that tore apart some somatized ones of the order of a third body, which still transmitted the last organic matter, refusing to spread at the omeganimic points. The consciousness of replicated beings of themselves challenged themselves towards the perfect copy of their transcendent alter ego, in an understanding of the present-future elucidating for whom or those who demystify the visions of an arbitrary creation, allied to the evolutionary myth-truth, in the face of any real and human maturity gap, the conclave of the near pious Christ, bequeathed in us and in the venerated hominization, at his sole and directional will. Now we are all in the aqueducts of Christian Science, for specimens of eternal categorization and frontally in view of a God-Mashiach, as ordinal inclusion and in greater ecumenical diversity, with variables of independence range, for staggering motor skills, retaining the attention of all the powers of the Christian world at an Omega point that seemed to be Alpha. The sense of the Duoverse in Vernarth Omega makes us rethink the central phenomenon of thought and frustrations, by the socialization of distant species from prudent dogmatic ostracism, towards refractory empathic and ultra-rational reasoning.

The supra intelligence has to become in them and those, the pre-existing point of duality, to reunify them in Patmos, as the only spirited meaning, and biomass evolving on the super-dimensioned materiality, in a greater radius where it will have to be delivered to whoever speaks with words. of living energy, and not complex towards all processes of emancipatory concord of personal authorship, on levels of relative lust in the absolution of medium integrity, and towards an elemental unitary totality of animal instinct guarded by the instinct of Being, that from its similar awakened rebirth of the sleeping mass matter, and in the animal purifying multiplicity. The man stands in his memorandum bend, like a haughty memorial, evolving in the cosmic expiration of the molecular transverse, admitting us in its vestige of complex extinction, but not in human slip, nor in acid and self-instituting scenery, on the real creation of its DNA, which reverts from the formality of helical reiterative rings, by heights of whoever oscillates in their coupled pairings, and their silent probable associations, in the nature of real origin and their structural perfection. The acceptability scenarios derive from the feasible concretion, and the approval of their tendencies and mobilizations of the structure of life, and codes greater than those that limit them to reside, to more than one body, residing from an incorporeal body, capable of its quantitative life and the extension of existence, super existing in the heights of the helical rings, which may vary more than they are, and which could be, without being seen under a scientific gaze. "Becoming a mechanics of maturation and prayer, which the energy from the material world to the spiritual, as a moving particle of inert matter in parasitized free radicals, which are re-energized by the mystery of the helical trans-threshold of the Aramaic mystery of the Olives Bern. "Vernarth disintegrates in omeganymy in laxity towards Aurion, descending pro-tenebrosity towards the profanity of Patmos, engulfed by Love in a dark summer, brushing the silos of DNA in the will of the automated world"
DUOVERSE
Before there was anything that mattered everything that would ever be existed , it was the essence of totality , it was without dimensional constriction or necessitated form .  Optimistically speaking time had no relative realism to it’s progression because realistically nothing had happened yet .  As it continued it became according to it’s innate inflections as a functionally integrable form .  The questionably understandable nature of it’s conjunction was an omnipotent directive beyond necessitated action or morphological construction .  The enigmatic consciousness of it’s relatively interrelated conception was spontaneous and yet it continued without elemental omniscience.  

As the relative complexity of it’s interrelations evolved dimensional consistence was born.  Humanly understandable laws of physical integration governed many facets of it’s conjunction yet the totality of it’s ramification was beyond humanly realistic conjecture .  

The organic morphology of biological ontogeny was a conceptually reflective derivative of functional physical mechanics yet it’s diversity exceeded it’s physical complexity , understanding evolved .  Relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity succeeded in a hierarchy of functionally integrable forms .

Retrospectively speaking pragmatic practicality is a humanly rational possibility .  Rational logic can conceive of individually totalitarian structural forms , yet the implosive nature of their rational cohesiveness becomes a practical partiality due to the diversity of their definitive impetus .

Perhaps the essence of our being is the logical counterpart for the matrix of our subjectively conclusive social fragmentation , or perhaps we are evolutionally incapable of cumulatively rational correlation.  Problematic diversity could be perfectible on an individually infinite level or contrarily perhaps ubiquitous causality is the ultimate survivor.  

In any case it is beyond our subjugatively rational cohesive coercion to intercede en masse on our own behalf as an integrated unit. Our conceptual abilities have been thwarted by the unmitigatably individual nature of our extraneous conclusiveness .
Re-post
Mateuš Conrad Dec 2016
i write about these things,
because in all honesty?
they don't matter to me.

you can call it assimilation, then you'll call it
   i'm making a worded salad, so it doesn't really matter
whether i speak the language or not,
being native you'll tell me i have to be a diacritically
riddled over-laden version of you  nativeness...
you'll basically tell me i have to speak a worse-off
native than you didn't bother to grasp...
after that? i turn Sioux and scalp you.
  because that's what you deserve.
i could have come up against you
in the thick of night and turned you into a kebab,
and do you think anyone would have
cared? is it one thing to assimilate,
and another to assimilate into a skin-head culturalism
implosive that's brimming to the full with your patriotic
hopes as being acted upon? i can speak the perfect
English and still be more welcome in Scotland
than in Kent... but that will not not do,
not until i shave my hair off,
grow a beard, and runsack my skin
with quasi-Hindu ******* tilts...
           and when this foreign legion
of Swedish journalists bemoan why
their **** ain't where their heart is?
have you seen the *sienkiewicz"
trilogy of *potop
? you want history?
how about: in the beginning
there was an invading horde of Swedes
that tried to topple the proto-commonwealth
of Poland and Lithuania...
  even how much i cared to learn the tongue:
i'd be left belittled by ugly accenting
stereotypes...
                          i'd be Islam of drunk,
while the engineers would be left saying:
and unto us amphetamines,
and Mamelukes were never Egyptian...
because Egypt was what Egypt desired...
a quasi thingy... then i turned my ear
to Macbeth, and earned 70 years
and a Spartacus' worth of ears to my nearing 31...
                   i turned to Macbeth the theatricals
silences, and let, the music... play.
i can learn the language, but i am expected
to push the natives from a career of criminality,
i am expected to become the criminal,
i've learned the language beyond the natives,
what else?
   to learn the debasement of the natives akin to
every other culture? am i to become the
criminal statistic of the ruling political elite?
so they can "know" but that they merely quote?
   i owe my ode to Macbeth,
for Hamlet can become tiresome aligned with
Sisyphus in hell...
              we'll have builders by the end of
the debate...
     how much more do i have to learn?
is language not enough? then velkommen Syriac!
               is it not enough that i know the tongue?
must i be jeopardised by using it,
and say that universality is to be excluded,
simply because it does not abide by an utopian
ideal of pure English sprechen pure English?
         there are scapegoats to be festering upon
the spike that's readied to be fried...
but come on... is this deutschesprechen?
              it can't be! if i pretend to be Malcolm...
you pretend to be Duncan,
but nonetheless the speech makes us both truant
ghouls and guises receding
   into the demands of operatic - kindred to
Lady Macbeth (a protestant, or should she be
known catholic: McBeth) -
      as Glasgow religion of the coliseum of the times
testifies... celt and ranger... green & white vs. blue and
   black...
     lady mc.: what beast was 't thou,
        that make you break this enterprise with me?
(no matter if you killed a man, of whatever
stature he be worth, what beast are you to suddenly
cage my heart, when having agreed to make my heart
and feeling thus: storm the heights of Ben Nevis,
and descend as angrily as a woman might please,
  and with her whim, descend from the mountain
as if a mountain descends into desert?! what
courage, ye! to throw a woman into such woe
and leave a man's promise, the very least
a man can bestow upon this earth: but a woman
yet to come to correct!) so thus the elvish Anglican
was spoken, and thus continued:
- when you durst do it, then you were a man;
   and, to be more than what you were, you would
be so much more the man. nor time, nor place,
did then adhere, and yet you would make both...
  from his boneless gums...
nor have i understood Hamlet as the model student,
the puppet if not the mere mascot...
for the Freudian couch... then again i navigated
past Kant with Macbeth,
having yet to complete reading the critique...
       i took to maturity, and said
what others wished upon: there is true
adult agony in a well versed poetry...
       more so than adolescence in what's deemed
a maturation process...
             perhaps i should have served the concern
for Hamlet and laid bare upon the psychoanalytic
couch... but Macbeth: of said
sepia as copper, so said of woad as in aquamarine
surrender... led me to cite...
          for i was never bound to own the tongue
i would acquire... i was told:
   well, hello there, dishonourable squire...
ah... the queen's majestic airs...
    will make any Irishman desist from the republic's
gaze...
             and sloth in a respectably believed state
of consolidatory affairs under the kites of Yates...
   but never you mind the Silesian consumed
by former guardian of the coalmine...
or what L'vov wouldn't say in Ukrainian...
mind you Nevada and Lasso Vegan...
mind you that...  for that speaks biblical studies!
i will never assimilate, in that i will never be
allowed to own this tongue...
            and if i am allowed to own it...
i am but a furry-faced-bloat of faked pleasantries
   and closet nationalism...
        i wish i could own this language as if i
might own a typewriter... but i'm apparently
not welcome, by the pseudo-irish who
mediate the English assertion of the understanding
of the dover sieve...
                 ******* leprechaun mafia...
  paddy paddy oo too the butch-faced freckled girl...
   it's as if the Italians have Manhattan,
    and the Corke conglomerate prescribed
everyone a pint of Guinness rather than iron-pill
supplements...
                 well: and so the Titanic bellows
out an oceanic morse code of tantrums on
the accordions.
                      which sorta soothed the mermaids
digest contemplation for the vegan accomplishment
of shrimp... and over seafoods...
being digested.
         now i'm apparently not speaking English,
or i'm speaking English and i don't understand it,
or i'm understanding how i'm speaking English,
and how i'm supervising all things uranium
                               bound hallucinogenic...
or how, even though urbanity took off and
the countryside disappeared, you think you'll never
meet peasants in smirk attire to condescend you
gravity toward theatre or opera...
     but peasants are reall... you can recognise a peasant
the minute they don't recognise you insulting them;
it's a bit like telling a very witty joke...
         i don't get witty jokes because i tend to treat them
like a siegl heigl salutation...
   and i respect the memory of Octavian...
                                 it's the wittiness that comes into
contact with actually not telling a joke: and people
end up laughing... that's when you spot the peasants.
    so you see... i speak the ****** language,
but i'm sorta denied the access for drinking a cosmopolitan
at a Shoreditch pub...
                        which makes all arguments
for learning the language obsolete in terms of gaining
a "fair" advantage... and this is European to
European lingo...
        didn't i ask that Swedish journalist
ingrid carlqvist to watch the trilogy, including
potop about the war between Sweden and
the Polish-Lithuanian commonwealth, and ask her
about what's to be culturally inherited?
**** me... maybe i'm sleepwalking...
                     dodo zombified or something...
                                     oh wait...
                                         if ever there was a regressive
reparation policy in a country:
i'd hear: guilt from western countries taking the bribes
of the Marshall Plan...
      and overt pride from countries post-world-war ii
being prescribed communism, as a way to rebuild
their nations: for fear of having to commit to
hara kiri... or *******...
                                         as said: becoming
the easily bribed convenience...
                              the concept of assimilation
within the construct of selective migration has transcended
the mere acquisition of language...
  acquiring a language isn't enough...
         the reverse policy of colonialism is hushed-down
ethnic cleansing...
          which goes beyond language per se,
since it goes beyond dialect ex lingua...
              it is a necessitation of also acquiring
national stereotypes of unengaged in dialectics...
it is one thing to rhetorically assert a need to debate,
and another to understand that dialectics ≠ debate;
but rather a service to prompt and engage thinking,
rather than debating... dialectics is an art-form,
     it's intended to encourage thinking,
rather than the continuum of polarised / schizoid
debating: debates never accomplish a convergence...
whereas dialectics is intended to establish
a convergent pinpoint... as Socrates said unto the young,
so i find myself talking to old men and being
in accordance to have shared a park bench,
one sunny afternoon at the nadir of summer.
                why is it that acquiring language is not
enough these days?
       or why is it that a poor acquisition of a language,
or acquiring a language without correcting
accentuated stresses particular to a tongue
are given a freer access to labour, then
acquiring a language to a standardisation of
mimic localisation, and fence: a faking of
a faking (ad infinitum) or locality?
i.e. overly-successful assimilation?
             overly-successful assimilation is punished!
   it is punished by speaking as a fluent native
might... but having no discriminatory biases
that could enable one to be completely native...
and this is punishable!
             by a stance that it's a robotics project,
that one is nothing more than an a.i. enterprise...
even those dearest to me acknowledge me
as a robot... an a.i.,
           but they can't seem to understand that
artificial intelligence, and authentic intelligence
cannot be superficial intelligence of
natives... for the natives have a placebo
to what is otherwise a Pompeii resurrection
to the volcano-dynamic of analysing-ergo-synthesising
           ana ergo syn           which
constructs the opposite of thesis and antithesis,
given that the equation combines two adequate prefixes,
ana- and syn-...
                      "against" therefore "with".
isn't that how we cling to social pressures
or prejudices and still accumulate 8 billion examples
of a comparative e.g. that's a John Smith?
     i have yet to come across a contemporary that
might become as if fatherly...
   i just see opportunist buckling down the M25 of
encircling nothing more than a venture into
gaining a quick buck... and it could, it could
almost be sad... but it's not...
              it took me almost 13 years of synthesising
the English language: synthesising i.e.
mimicking - before i started analysing it...
      and when i say the groundwork for any
theory on the subconscious is to focus on grammar
and grammatical word interjections into
a Joycean stream-of-consciousness...
                              for that's worth the upper-tier
working from the sub-level...
                          of utilising language:
then the unconscious is far from dreaming...
it's equivalent in seeing how i acquired a language
at the age of 8 to synthesise / mimic what the children
around me were saying...
   but that it took me so long to analyse the language...
which the children around me acquired within
a reflexive bias to later strand such reflexiveness into
a divergence of calling their angular retraction
philosophy, linguistics, poetry, psychology...
whole all i had to do is to appropriate a reflective bias to
later strand such reflectiveness as to say:
of my mother i say polski, of my father i say:
             ojczym - and i can reflect upon him,
foremostly his diacritical lack of the wriggling-blagger's
economisation, when due coinage is needed.
Zigzag Universe says: "I am the space of Devananda" Way of God "and meditation. We know how a great inherited noun “de meditatio” has reflected on the ideas that are reconciled. My numen comes from the Greek Peltast mercenaries, creating survival in the contemplation of standing on those who are not in the fords of the breath of blood. We focus the mind so that the sheep that graze in the meadows fall upon us when we reconcile ourselves to somehow standing, waiting for them lectured here in Archangelos and in placebos of the bread-making gifts of the grasses. Obviously, stability allows us to get colossally on our feet and meditate where we have to sow hopes of meditation and work them with the pleasure of experience, which transports us on spirituality on the lips that are pronounced by the horses that graze, filling their bellies with the idiomatic hopes that transport us to the intellect and the conclusive horse. On the other hand, in contemplation there is more spiritual than intellectual character since it carries an experience and not a conclusion. Philo of Alexandria; Philo Judaeus, being a Hellenized Jew, is our mentor and philosopher star, born in the year 20 BC. He is contemporary to the era of our Mashiach, maker of everything and the neo-universe of Vernarth "Duoverso". The new universe of Vernarth being apologetic, Jewish and also Hellenistic therefore makes of our creator and all the theological creative thinking of all his creation. Divine providence and grace are and will be your superiors to have universal kinship with the Zig Zag Universe that migrated to Duoverso Zig Zag, for the providence of divine powers, who are in this range mercifully allowing and forbidding the splendid power of the royalty of Christian meditation manifested. Those of us who bear his goodness transformed into passion, we are the ones who create his theocratic rise, doing sovereign service, courage, joy and caution of human ethical satisfaction. We surround ourselves with our philosopher Philo for the diaspora, for the benefit and virtuosity of laws that emanate from the One-dimensional Beams of Kafersuseh in Ein Karem. The stoicism of democracies weakens the ungovernable powers of self-wisdom, they decay before those who ignore who they are and will be, under the symbolization of the supposed Jewish leadership of offering their children to the sacrificial altar ambivalently. The warmth of the afternoons in Tsambika increases the macro radius of our zigzag, binding the biblical pages with Platonic Greek philosophy and anti-material stoicism, with goods re-delegated to the natural good where it comes from. Our writings are the inspiration of the demiurge of the embodiment of a bakery recipe in the idea of the lowing of Zeus's stomach, with the solid dissatisfied discourse of not creating more bakery hectares for Stoics and demiurges. Although the thought of Philo permeated the fathers of the ecclesiastical epic, as in its origins in Alexandria, they will be Ambrose of Milan and Augustine of Hippo, with weak influence on the Jewish tradition, particularly in the rabbinic tradition that was born in one or two centuries after his death. Part of this is due to his use of the Septuagint (the Bible translated into Greek) instead of the Hebrew Bible and his allegorical interpretation of the Torah. His work also gives references to religious movements that have disappeared today, such as the Alexandrian therapists. Zig Zag was and will be moved away between time and space, in a world adjusted to the senses that are propelled within the contextual totality, the world and the biosphere framed in the phenomena of the Zigzag Universe, being born on a stellar night when it touched our life the earth, being able to see how the cordial matters of the cosmos caressed its cosmology, making of it its magistracy and descendants of the Hellenic cosmos, in constant caresses of the universe already predisposed to the bing bang, emerging from the other side of the car, observing us and seeing ourselves in the Horcondising face anti-material. We are science that models the energy and matter system in causes of the ancestors, with whom their life and ours sneakily crashed. Gravity made us great paternity in Vernarth, being in the Dodecanese, being a cosmos in the curvature that makes us screen with the moon in its romantic astrophysical swings and with the exaggerated geometry of a zigzag. We are the versatile and multi-dynamic mass that expands simultaneously in the head that pauses in the oaks of the Horcondising of Vernarth and also the time-space that has not been troubled by the origin or the inflammation of the stars that move irregularly in zigzag , for the fractality of its component, which is clearly Aramaic blue light, in circuits of cumulus movements skimming the air, attracting the attention of the entire order of the sleeping universe and making the duplication of the universe itself appear before them; in Duoverso  that is the universe awakened and young of thanks "

Duoverso says: “My distribution of nearby galaxies are keys to the paleo universe already arranged in macrowaves, which are the percentage of the spaces of the Trisolate energy fields, which interact with the Mashiach phylogeny in Gethsemane, now lying in a stagnant decomposed future, in a specific frozen present. My final station is to place the Zigzag Universe on the re-expanding medieval chrestomathy, in qualities of Sub Mythology, already settling here in Archangelos. The implosion of my gravity has created worlds of visibility of great astronomical yearnings, in some fractions of time zigzagged by millions of fractured light-years, like an irregularity that resembles the measurements of everything quantifiable, being science or not, acquiring from the hexagonality, the primogeniture of the passage that from Jerusalem goes to Bethlehem, where the Davidian prism, in whose Original is attributed a fractal of the two-dimensional shape of a line of the Mediterranean fractal coast, resembling the gems of the crown of King David to that of the Messiah, seeming to be similes, but of irregular geometric formats. To build gems in landscape spines, basically subdividing themselves into equal conical funnels and then being randomly displaced towards their central point shared with King David's crown, recursively repeating it in each square until the desired level of detail is reached, in the curve that joins the landscape to Bethlehem and then to the Church of the shepherds in its fractured hexagonal base, simulating to be snow falling on the top of the roofs, wherein the Kafersuseh manger, the Mashiach was born and died in the abstraction of the Beams One-dimensional in foreign eyes, eroding those who are mortals and do not see you with divine eyes in self-likeness of our hysteria of the failed plan to increase the size in the unknown geometry of this new dimension in the implosive movement of the Verthian Duoverse. The nature of the snowflakes in Bethlehem are natural fractals, detailed in their nature and in natural infinity. Here the new privileged world for self-similarity in the mental and cosmogonic functions of Vertnarth was envisioned, at intervals in each space of gloomy clouds, bringing accelerated bombs of messaging from Gethsemane among mutated olive trees towards other humans. My correlation is an infinite fractal with the reversible observable time and with the pattern belonging to mobile echoes of a space, which is occupied by Vernarth as multi-study and integers between fractional integers”

Hyperdisis: “Finite is the curvature, between the time that walks between the jungle of the Duo Universe as an alternative of energy Zigzag and Duoverse, which triggers our observable world what a great eye is, which ignores and knows extreme distant and focal parts of the One-dimensional Beams of Kafersuseh in Ein Karem, since the Duoverse is the trial Universe that the Mashiach had before coming to the Holy Land, provided by my form of Hyperdisis escorting him. I go in arduous colors in gradient for its limits of positions of verbality, and solutions of physical fields, interwoven by an external gravitational means. The macrowaves are exposed matter not contained in the abrupt changes of the optical selection of the Mashiach with the One-dimensional Beams, attracting selection crystals to atomize them, in the fears of reaction and recreation of multiform plasma saviors of Christian cosmic. Examining the double of the macrowaves and the equation of them on the axial of the universe turned into Duoverse, already in millions of light-years will continue in the Duoverse, for ectoplasmic reconversion with great margins of assertiveness. The cartography of hyperdiction, is the correction of the error of the current universe, losing itself, in the second thousandths of figures that separate us from the Universe, but all being more than time ... !, we are left at the expense of the wick of all electro-matter "

The sub-mythology having already been constituted, Hestia appears, having taken a great nap. When she appeared before Vernarth in Tsambika, she was seen changing in size, when she was six meters away she looked dwarf and when she was two meters from him she looked monumentally giant, but with a versatile countenance, therefore she was already appreciated in the last steps, with the domestic figure of a Goddess who emanated light-years from the chimneys of her habitable galaxies. The critical immanence that would happen would be the perfectible plan for the Zig Zag Universe and the Hyperdisis, bringing torn words for those who were approaching the main altar of Vas Auric, which was in a great proscenium ratio in the vicinity of Tsambika, between the Mind / Meditation for a constant mechanism of Wisdom / Meditant, according to the cosmological constant, leading perhaps to the beginning of a decade and third universe called Triverse. The oscillations of all these fantasies, Vernarth observed, but he knew that he would have to collide with these worlds finally already precipitated and of temperature that acted on the average of the normal range, therefore it was imminent to mutate it to the provisional Christian Duoverse, which goes backward advancing between the rapid lights of creation. Immediately afterward, the Universe has torn apart and lost among those around it, establishing itself in units millions of years of lightly compressed in the piccolo Aulos, which Hestia carried in one of its golden hands, in its Prytaneion, igniting with the flames of the heart of fire and of the passion of consanguineous love, "Prytaneum", paved by the light of the clarity of faith of the owners of the hamlets that were founded when they arrived in Tsambika, in search of Vas Auric, cheering with the omphalos stone, which marks the navel of the world with the challenge of wandering towards the island of Delos in the daily warmth of a spring afternoon in Rhodes. She is a woman with veils on her face, always walking to and from her virginal abode, in the house of foolish or vestal virgins, there is no Hestia, only perhaps there are some similar ones staying in the cold fire of her menopause, losing fertility afterward. to be swallowed by her father, and then expelled from himself, regurgitated in candle flames, of love in a blessed house full of immunity, giving the Duoverse another geometric category with angles never contained, sliding vibratory between distances that deduct minutes from Hestian space, for the purpose of approaching its finiteness, and inaugurating the sub- finite, which will never be a source of termination in a puzzling end of equationally physical unfinished time. This consolidates the Duoverse in Duouniverse, expressed in figures that moderate the length of a physical state before it is finished and restarted in a process that does not end (sub-finite)

Saint John the Apostle says: "Not even death recognizes the dimension of the universe when it detaches itself from the capsule of the body ..., less from the Duouniverse ..., making at night what is day and what is a day at night"

Vernarth says: “I am being reborn, the variety of times between myself and myself, are you. In my new creation and Duo-universality, with rules that angle my thoughts where my muscles did not reach. Today we are plagued by invasive objects of new creation, and in particular, I feel them bustling with the wrinkling of the strings of the balalaikas that I had in Moscow, with flat thoughts and now with flat atonements that I do not know, but my courage climbs where they fear me. be poor of feared value. Rather greater fear on a larger scale and related limits where infinite dramatic areas fade away almost make me an atheist in atheism. The ribs of time, gropingly, are oversized, in the ribs of the five-fold dimension of the Duoverse that imagines my curved, over-curved world, not knowing how to reach the line that allows me to know it head-on and full, on the coast of light that If now I see the Mashiach in Gethsemane, in the Olives Bern, walking straight ahead towards me, with another starting point going back, but I being in the creation that for God the light of himself towards the stars that are reconverted into stars, in all addresses calling each other. "
Zigzag Universe
Julia Low May 2012
It’s overwhelming.
The urge to scream,
and scream until my lips turn blue.
And my throat grows red,
and my hair stands straight up as though I were hit by lightning.

The will power
used to contain my never ending exasperation,
along with frustration,
is enough to shut down
all of the nuclear power plants in France;
although a meltdown might be more lethal.

But maybe being lethal is what I crave;
years of smiling and
moving aside built up
into an explosive pile of nicety and rage.

Light the wick,
and I promise I won’t fail to explode;
though it always seems
I’m more adept at imploding.
Before there was anything that mattered everything that would ever be existed , it was the essence of totality , it was without dimensional constriction or necessitated form .  Optimistically speaking time had no relative realism to it’s progression because realistically nothing had happened yet .  As it continued it became according to it’s innate inflections as a functionally integrable form .  The questionably understandable nature of it’s conjunction was an omnipotent directive beyond necessitated action or morphological construction .  The enigmatic consciousness of it’s relatively interrelated conception was spontaneous and yet it continued without elemental omniscience .
As the relative complexity of it’s interrelations evolved dimensional consistence was born.  Humanly understandable laws of physical integration governed many facets of it’s conjunction yet the totality of it’s ramification was beyond humanly realistic conjecture .  
The organic morphology of biological ontogeny was a conceptually reflective derivative of functional physical mechanics yet it’s diversity exceeded it’s physical complexity , understanding evolved .  Relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity succeeded in a hierarchy of functionally integrable forms .
Retrospectively speaking pragmatic practicality is a humanly rational possibility .  Rational logic can conceive of individually totalitarian structural forms , yet the implosive nature of their rational cohesiveness becomes a practical partiality due to the diversity of their definitive impetus .
Perhaps the essence of our being is the logical counterpart for the matrix of our subjectively conclusive social fragmentation , or perhaps we are evolutionally incapable of cumulatively rational correlation .  Problematic diversity could be perfectible on an individually infinite level or contrarily perhaps ubiquitous causality is the ultimate survivor .  
In any case it is beyond our subjugatively rational cohesive coercion to intercede en masse on our own behalf as an integrated unit. Our conceptual abilities have been thwarted by the unmitigatably individual nature of our extraneous conclusiveness .
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2016
i.

i really want to write this like a poet, but i'll probably
ramble on, i want to create this poetic haiku
or what one might call a punchline
in a joke, i will, obviously,
           i will (obviously) provide
how the alternatives would look like,
but sometimes i think that the poet
is enraged by the idea of the narrator:
or the consolidator of personae -
defeatist poets write from a personae
perspective, as if each poem is
a new and nuanced character -
a nuance of the narrator,
   yes: not novels, a plateau of literature
that poetry is...
           the setting is unknown,
but these people simply congregate
and say something, akin to the burning man
festival, and then return to their
day jobs...
          i don't know why poetry is less and less
resonating with music: maybe because
the old critique of poetry being faced off
with philosophy doesn't make sense
given that there's this rainbow of musical
tastes and the general diversity?
looking at the classical circumstance of
poetry vs. philosophy makes no sense
when the *logos
is removed and the phonos
is inserted in its place...
   bad grammar, bad spelling... why look for
meaning in words in the almighty sphere
of all things holy, when in the trenches
   people are shooting bullets not at targets
but at empty space?
    that's why i love the notion that writing
can become something akin to a will to power:
the power over not of those illiterate -
urbanism has dissolved such a concept...
  we became literate in order to read adverts:
or the iconoclasm of the alphabet:
pretty coca cola nearing arabic for all
those magpies out there...
           the myth goes that the magpie spotted
the shimmer of a silver spoon and stole it
and as the debate of the fates go:
i was to marry a rich woman and leverage
myself into a calm suspense... but it wasn't
to be. such is the case: when writing
can become as difficult as arithmetic of numbers,
and certain blemishes on the fountain head
of humanism that's literature can provide
the right arithmetic complexity...
   given that, what could possibly be the sum
total of this "poem"?
  the irony of the cartesian 1 + 1 = 2...
                in terms of meaning? in a polyverse
   of the what if? universe?
        a cinema better than the Hollywood industry...
that could fit into my concept of man enduring
for eternity, even with the vain hope of challenging
his mortal frailty... have a historiological cinema
of the what ifs... i'd sit in there and be like: wow!
Adolf graduated from the Vienna Art School
and world war two didn't happen?
    the treaty of Versailles wasn't a version of
colonial powers against expansionist politics
concerning a European nation? wow!
they basically didn't join the club of colonial power,
and they were punishing the colonial powers of
the time... or that's how i see it:
i don't see myself needing to ascribe myself
to pronoun pluralism in any shape or form:
it just breeds some overt concept of paranoia;
and obviously this has nothing to do with the title,
because it i shunned the narrator, i'd be a poet,
and if i wrote a cutiepie version of this
i'd feel hungry for not having played the piano
long enough while tipping a glass of whiskey
into my mouth... just is the curse of
enjoying typing: hurrah for our loss of handwriting
and that beautiful circumstance of writing
words with connectivity - by modern standards
undecipherable as if Hebrew or acronyms
and emoticons: puncture after puncture and nothing
concerning waves or serpentines of encoded talk...
beautiful... absolutely beautiful.
  the new form italics? syllable-ism, to stress,
punctuation marks in words: beau-ti-ful!
there, goes a weeping pair, that's Ludovico Arrighi
& Aldus Manutius...
    and what i do understand, and it's pivotal,
take the concept of a narrator out of the prosaic mosaic
and take away the concept of personae out of
poetry, and mould the two together...
you get an implosion worthy of a Hiroshima...
a bit like what the Beatles conceded too after
releasing their revolved album... they stopped
live touring... they had an implosive moment
and said: as any artists in the background,
we are the invisible hands of the plumbers
who connected toilets to the pipes: hey presto!
the Beckton ****-stink on the A406...
poetry can become this...
        it can also become something akin to:
etymology is a version of archeology,
although there's no physical space to engage with it,
   and i know why Heidegger turned the word
being into beyng... it's not a mutilation
of the word, he was practising a version of
archeology (not etymological) in that he was
excavating (as archeologists do) an archaic word
from the modern equivalent... Sherlock Holmes
of the black forest... found an amber tear
                      wedged in a tree...
i never know why they called it the Baltic sea...
i'd change it... i'll start calling it the Amber Sea...
given so much amber can be found on the shorelines
of it...
             and yes, this prompted the additional bits
in the title: considering the idea that it's twice as important
as what i will eventually write with dues for
the lightning bolt's worth of a title...
    language has to be mandible, language has to
be plasticine... it can't be dittohead bound -
strict, regulated, ivory encased in a museum hush...
   esp. if it doesn't need something controversial to
be spoken... exactly at that point...
          what was i originally intending?
            language as form archeology? perhaps...
no! no no no... the pro-life vs. the pro-life debate...
    a destitute woman, perhaps a *******, perhaps
a woman who was *****...
                         as the laws in Poland currently stand:
she has to give birth...
      i never said i agreed with the stranglehold of
my "brethren", i simply said
           bilingualism as a rhinosaur (dino remnants?)
        stampede against multiculturalism...
what is the perspective? i respect the culture that
assimilated me, only through having the capacity
to speak the language of the culture i was born in...
    multiculturalism has no respect for its
host culture, the multicultural argument goes:
if i speak good enough English, i'll still be able
to wear Pakistani pyjamas in public...
it's the hijab wearing English-pristine girl who
knows ****-all arabic: but speaks good English,
so she's assimilated well enough...
       and there's me... when everyone is going
muddles berserk in their groin regions
     flirting with bisexuality... so few flirt with
bilingualism... well: how could all that fucky-sucky
go to waste, eh?   multiculturalism doesn't work
if the person attempting integration doesn't
have a moderation minder,
    if you don't respect your own original society
in the least, as in: ensuring you keep your
mother tongue and do the utmost to speak two
languages... multiculturalism of people who
don't do this are just plain lazy...
   lazy!           is that an excuse if you were born
in a host country? only if your parents were
so worked up thinking that knowing two languages
was a disadvantage... and so the byproduct
of all things that aren't part of the multicultural
franchise... if you have no respect for your mother
tongue / culture when moving to a different
country... you don't have respect for your
country of birth... or in a more succinct way said
by Napoleon: a man who knows two languages
is worth two heads... etc.
       ah, the debauchery of narrating and not
orientating yourself around creating characters...
bliss... and also the main reason poets feel guilty
about writing poetry... the missing characters.
but onto the title and the main point i was going
to make...

ii.

over an egg.

iii.

can't we simply argue the point
between pro-life and pro-choice
over breakfast of scrambled eggs?
or poached eggs... or fried eggs...
or eggs boiled for 5 minutes
so the yoke is all runny?

iv.

and they said there's no purpose to
abortion...
         the most popular food of
choice for breakfast... is an abortion.

v.

i'd say... make sure those pro-life protesters
stop eating eggs...
           they're eating abortions...
but ****... can you imagine anything
                          more yummy than an egg?
don't worry, Darwinistic existentialism
of furthering the human question
   has already been answered by an abundance
of the Mandarin and the Sanskrit population.
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2018
as any german might, or a student of
the philosophy -
applying nothing's worth of a hammer
to the lexicon, rather,
a scalpel -
          what is ontological about
the term dasein,
and what is metaphysical?

        well... -sein is pure ontology...
am i to make apologies for
the given?
       sein in German is "self"-implosive...
given that it originates
in the Kantian noumenon,
per se...
                   but it never reaches out
to trans- physics of
gender...
        and, doesn't, meddle,
in grammatical constructs...

          da-?
   what is there, to a here?
to a now, a then, a then?
    metaphysical questions...
          so...

                    Dasein...
it'­s both a metaphysical conundrum
and an ontological scoop...
but, what it isn't is
a metaphorical inquiry...
   the mind is never to be displaced...
there is no mind displacement,
the brains along with the mind
retains its intact posit to counter
the materialism of the brain
being equivalent to the heart,
  but no mind,

no mind? no emotion...
     i thought the heart was a mindless
pump for the rivers (veins)
  and tsunamis of blood (arteries)...
am i wrong?
          
   if there is this post-Hegelian
grand dialectic taking place,
to displace the classical approach,
with a globalist canvas...
  my bad...

                if you need more schizophrenics
than you can handle?
fair enough...
               if you suddenly face up
to the Hippocratic oath...
which deems bilingual individuals
as being schizophrenics?
fair enough... i'll wait...
i'm good at waiting...

       i'll have my fifth drink and
attempt to play the mythical
Mongolian harmonica...

and wait: who's about to look...
STUPID!
               but if there's a grand dialectical
working its way into conversation
outside of the academic circles...
then there's also a dichotomy...
  
  and schizophrenia?
      is the algebraic X
    rather than a grand +
                 in the intermediate
interwoven basis for discussion...

              da- is a metaphysical
proposition...
    given? there could also be a
hier-... or a nirgends (nowhere) -
    or irgendwo (anywhere) -
    
   the prefix of heidegger's concept
is purely metaphysical,
it doesn't have to necessarily translate
into concern coupled
with the purity of the ontological
compound suffix of -sein...

       to be honest? the problem with
dasein in the 21st century?
let's face it, the man wrote this thesis
just when mainstream journalism was
taking off, then tyrants exploited
radio broadcasts...
   now the broadcasters abuse the medium...

there's too much of the "da-" -
      die welt...
   which does not encourage
the -sein...
to encompass or even entangle itself
with the imminent,
   die hier, die jetzt...
          the "myopic" version of
the diabolical res extensa of
the cartesian model...
                
              the study of ontology has
to regress from the prefix da-...
         the metaphysical jargon of this
posited prefix needs to be
stumbled onto, then rejected...
                new coordinates of ontological
investigation need to be minded...
closer to the nose...
   and the index finger touching
the tip of it...

                 again...
          i can only "read" French philosophy
books by the German antagonists...
and i will never read anything
by English philosophers... Locke?
forget it...
   i hate English philosophers...
they're too practical... too sensible...
too pragmatist...
              basically?
boring as ****...
                         sensible people do
not philosophize -
  they don't create meta-narratives...
ha ha! they create trans-gender!
sensible people get hard-on salivation
tendencies to craft no
original contribution to the scholasticism...
they love to read the ****...
but hate to write it...
subsequently relieving themselves
of the originality of a cognitive genesis...
the english were always in
a Germanic cognitive exodus;

i'm speaking to the father,
i don't need some
  ****-pants half-removed son of
a Saxon ***** to tell me
what i can, and can't make
this language into.
Lendon Partain Apr 2014
Your arms,
Are like the days I used to cut myself for you,
In front of my computer.
Pricked flayed.
From the times it split too much depth.

In the Red Sea vein.

Like the times I'd drink,
Till I ****** in the corner of the floor,
In my room.
With the door handle loosed,
So someone can find me in the morning.

My whole life is a corner
With you the coroner
In a morgue with no form to it
With the bodies on the slabs cut up.
Impatient and waiting to be whole,
Not facing the wall  of your skull.

This rooms too full.

My bodies piled on the others.
Autopsy waiting room.
You're in that cottage at the edge of the abyss.
The event horizon to hell.
What Dreams Won't Come.
New song.
The Zig Zag Universe was and will be excluded between time and space, in a world adjusted to the senses that are driven within the contextual totality, the world and the biosphere framed in the phenomena of the Zig Zag Universe, being born on a stellar night when the earth touched our life, being able to see how the cordial matters of the cosmos caressed its cosmology, making it its magistracy and descendants of the Hellenic cosmos, in constant caresses of the universe already predisposed to the Bing Bang, emerging from the other taste of self-observing and seeing ourselves in the face of the Horcondising anti material And Universal Biomass. We preexist under science that models the energy and matter system in causes of the ancestors, with which their life and ours sneakily crashed. Gravity made us a great paternity in Vernarth Biomass, being in the Dodecanese, being the cosmos in the arcuate curvature that makes us screen with the moon in its romantic astrophysical swings and with the exaggerated geometry of a zigzag. We are the versatile and multi-dynamic mass that expands simultaneously in the head that pauses in the Nothofagus Obliqua of Vernarth's Horcondising and also the time2-space2 that has not been afflicted at the origin or in the abscess of the stars that move irregularly in zig zag, for the fractality of its component, which is clearly aramaic blue light, in circuits of cumulus movements brushing the air, attracting the attention of the entire order of the hypnotized universe and making the duplication of the universe itself appear before them; in Duoverso that is the Universe shaken and young with gratitude’s "

The distribution of the nearby galaxies are keys to the paleo universe already arranged in macrowaves, which are percentages of the spaces of the Trisolate energy fields, which interact with the Mashiach phylogeny in Gethsemane, now lying in a stagnant decomposed future, in a frozen present specific. Its final station is to stake the Zig Zag Universe on the re-expanding medieval crestomatia, in qualities of gregarious Sub-mythology, already settling here in Archangelos. The implosion of my gravity, has created worlds of visibility of great astronomical yearnings, in some fractions of time zigzagged by millions of fractured light years, as an irregularity that resembles the measurements of everything quantifiable, being omniscience or not, acquiring from the hexagonality the primogeniture of the passage, which from Jerusalem goes to Bethlehem, where the Davidian prism, of whose Original fractal is attributed in the two-dimensional shape of a line of the Mediterranean fractal flap, resembling the gems of the crown of the King David to that of the Messiah, appearing to be similes, but of irregular geometric formats, to build gems in landscape spines, basically sub dividing into equal conical funnels, and then being randomly displaced towards its central point shared with King David's crown, recursively repeating it in each square until the desired level of detail is reached, in the curve that joins the landscape to B ethlehem and then to the Church of the Shepherds in its fractured hexagonal base, figuring to be snow falling on the cusp of the roofs, where in the Kafersuseh manger, the Mashiach emerged and died in the abstraction of the One-dimensional Beams in the foreign eyes, eroding those who are mortal and do not see it with divine eyes in the self-likeness of our hypochondria and the failed plan to increase the size in the unknown analytic of this new implosive moving dimension of the Verthian Duoverse. The nature of the snowflakes in Bethlehem are natural fractals, detailing in their nature and in the natural infinity, here the new privileged world was envisioned for self-similarity in the speculative and cosmogony functions of Vertnarth, at intervals in each space of shadowy walls , bringing accelerated bombs of messaging from Gethsemane among mutated olive trees to other humans. "Its correlation is infinite fractal with reversible observable time, and with the patronal belonging of mobile echoes of a space, which is occupied by Vernarth as multi monograph and integers between the fractional integers”

Finite is the curvature, between the time that walks between the grove of the Duouniverse as an alternative of energy Zig Zag and Duoverso, which triggers our subconscious observable world, what is a great reflecting lantern eye, which ignores and prescribes extreme distant and focal parts of the Beams One-dimensional of Kafersuseh in Ein Karem, since the Duoverse is the trial Universe that the Mashiach had before coming to the Holy Land, provided by his form of Hyperdisis escorting him from Betelgeuse and in Orion. Change of arduous colors in gradient in Avant Garde, for its confines of perspectives of verbality, and of amendments of physical fields, interwoven by an external gravitational means. The macrowaves are exposed matter not contained in the abrupt changes of the optical selection of the Mashiach with the One-dimensional Beams, attracting selection crystals to atomize them, in the reaction disturbances and recreation of multiform plasmas of Christian cosmic savior. Examining the double of the macrowaves and the equation of them on the axial of the universe turned into Duoverse, already in millions of light years will continue in the Duoverse, for ectoplasmic reconversion with great margins of assertiveness. The cartography of hyperdiction, is the correction of error of the current universe losing itself, in the second thousandths of figures that separate us from the Universe,but all of them being more than time ...!, remaining at the expense of the wick of all electro-matter "

The sub-mythology having already been established, Hestia appears, after having taken a great nap. When she appeared before Vernarth in Tsambika, she was seen changing in size, when she was six meters away she looked dwarf and when she was already two meters away from him she looked monumentally huge, but with a versatile physiognomy, therefore it was already appreciated in recent years. Footsteps, with her domestic Goddess figure emanating light years from the chimneys of her habitable galaxies. The critical immanence that would happen would preexist the perfectible plan for the Zig Zag Universe and Hyperdisis, as Hyper-Hestia, bringing torn words for those who were approaching the main altar of Vas Auric, which was in a great ratio of proscenium in the vicinity to Tsambika, between Mind / Meditation for Wisdom / Meditant constant mechanism, according to the cosmological constant, taking them perhaps to the beginning of a decade and third universe called Triverse. The oscillations of all these fantasies, Vernarth observed, but he knew that he would have to collide with these worlds finally already precipitated and of temperature that acted on the average of the normal range; therefore it was imminent to mutate it to the provisional Christian Duoverse, which goes backwards advancing between the dizzying lights of creation. Immediately afterwards, the Universe is torn apart and lost among those around it, establishing itself in units of millions of years of light compressed in the piccolo Aulos, which Hestia carried in one of its golden hands, in her prytaneion, igniting with the flames of the heart of fire and of the passion of consanguineous love, “Prytaneum”, smoothing the light in the clarity of the faith of the owners of the hamlets that were founded when they arrived at Tsambika, in search of Vas Auric, cheering with the omphalos stone, that marks the navel of the world with the challenge of wandering towards the island of Delos in the daily warmth of a spring afternoon in Rhodes. She is a woman with veils over her face, always walking to and from her virginal abode, in the house of foolish or vestal virgins, there is no Hestia, only maybe there are some similar ones staying in the cold fire of her menopause, losing fertility afterwards. that his father swallowed it, and then it was expelled from himself, regurgitated in flames of love candles in a blessed house full of immunity, giving the Duoverse another geometric category with never contained angles, sliding vibratory between distances that discount minutes of the Hestian space, for such a corollary of approaching its finitude, and inaugurating the sub-finite, which will never be the source of a term in a disconcerting end of time that is not equationally physical. "This consolidates the Duoverse in Duouniverse, expressed in figures that moderate the length of a physical state before it is finished and restarted in a process that does not end (sub-finite)"
Zig Zag Universe / Part 19
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2017
what can't become anything like a theatre,
yet faces and masks fly off the shelves
in market stall, none are given the gravitas
of thought, instead: turkey-feeding
reverse bulimia, the sith and jedis?
      i can create a string of oaths to suggest
that it's happening,
   a grand masquerade of "concerns"...
      they call them the inverted commas...
what, like the spanish inverted question mark ¿?
jinnie out of the bottle sort of ****?
                   when did " become an inversion
of '?
                  that time i did the only thing possible
and dragged it down to the plateau of sentence
and paragraph like a prometheus?
         what could possibly be inverted about
the ditto?
              i guess you have to say that, given
shortenings, and all that glutton english,
don't ****'stani me this ******* back!
         the idea of an inverted comma is already
in use, and it's up, not down, as is:
    i wouldn't care as much if i didn't have an
education in chemistry: and didn't become pedantic
about certain things.
   the ditto enclosure: " " = ~ / ≈...
                             and that translates into:
well... if you want ambiguity of certain words:
read a book on existentialism rather than a harry potter
instalment; movies? great great,
      books? i'd sooner be dead than read
on of them.
                 i was just watching this
julian assange interview and couldn't help but see
a constantly implosive dualism,
    we got rid of the church-state,
   we inherited the military-industrial complex,
    and only americans have a justifiable concept
of nationalism, or so it would seem,
given they don't feel threatened by russia's ideologue
or that of china's; which really helps if you have
a puppet-state...
        back in napoleonic times they had satellite states,
now they have puppets...
    napoleon liberated poland and created the duchy
of warsaw, america has israel and the soviets
once had cuba...
                         but are any of the "axis" puppet-states
even recognisable? israel is blatant with connections
to america, they're practically nudist about it,
if i ever need to look at a glass window, i'd look
at that relationship...
   oh pick my sweet cherry blossom while you're at it,
i'll find the next plastic surgeon to remove my
protruding male larynx and talk funny...
water adam's tonic...
   i really want to see, though, how many spelling
mistakes i can make... julian... assange? assangé?
mannuel's ¿que?  fawlty ******* towers:
flip me a pancake!
                                  but you know what the saddest
thing about university is? babies...
  you end up teaching them how to make
pancakes, about how you add sunflower oil to
the runny-dough for the purpose of
what would otherwise become a tefal fryingpan:
garko-tłuks!
  can i ask what the necessary proximity of two
letters with diacritical marks? i know that english
loves that **** with either consonants and vowels:
tool.. pool... poll... pal... paul...
                                     stutter, staged,
     staging, poppy, pop, pops,
                         populist, pondering, package,
edge, age, -ydge... ****'s freaky...
             it really is... so you can have the orthographical
aesthetic of two vowels or two consonants side by side,
but what of an actual orthographic example?
the horrid case in poland of ó vs. u...
  there's no visible stress in the disctinction,
it's just something that ends up being either:
pleasing to the eye, or displeasing.
                               i never heard the ó accent to
be honest, people just ended up saying:
we need to remember the beauty of a word that uses
that distinction... notably on walls via
graffiti... grafitti? cappuccino?
          huj vs. hój...    or what later becomes: ahoy!
cockrels for supper! no, wait: cockerels for supper!
tomato       ta-may-toh, american drooling out
spaghetti from their gobs... tah-may-toe(h)...
and between H and H              a lot going on...
     hard to find a laugh though... you find it people
start complaining... i never understood the
cognitive concept of laughter, about how you might
laugh internally...
          if only germany learned to play rugby...
i'd love to see germans play rugby, just for fun,
and expand the tournament into: the 7 nations cup...
what sort of history can combine scotland to
italy? i get the british isles to be related,
but i just loath seeing italy get thrashed all the time...
i'd love to see germany pick up a tenet for rugby
(yes, a tenet, not a tenant... and it is a type
of spiritual currency);
or maybe the germans are just really good football
ballerinas?
            oh they'd fit it alright, what with so much
shared history; they had a football match in
Flanders one time, so why wouldn't they bond over
rugby?
             yeah... so this old form of problems,
what with the church-state complex, that lost both
church, and state, and became a federal institution...
or whatever it was that it became...
it's something new emerging on the horizon?
   i couldn't say church-like, but nonetheless very
much church-like?
                       i don't even know how to conceptualise
current affairs in a hyphen (-) complexity...
   it's ****** obvious though: corporations?
      yet the state disappears... the only permitted
nationalism is american, so what the hell do we get
to juggle with? evidently throwing only one
ball from hand to hand and "pretending"
to be juggling will not end up with a successful circus
act...
                    so we got rid of the church,
and that morphed into the ultimate poly-schism in america,
we got rid of the state, and that morphed into
denials of sorts...
                so from the military-industrial complex
we have created a military-consumer complex...
    isn't that so? isn't america faking it a little bit?
   ever time i had *** with women i always assumed
they were never pleased...
    then one night in st. petersburg i asked her:
- i'm keeping count, how many did you have?
- 7.
- thank-*******-fabulous.
                     brag? isn't that the whole point?
****** brags about a yacht he owns in the caribbean (
carribean?)... i'll brag about that night
                                                  and the 7 ohs;
but the current situation isn't about a military-industrial
complex, that's why there came promises of
job revival: blue work, not white collar work...
   but once you feed china-smaug the coins
for every piece of work someone else could have
done to a better quality... wait... what was that? desolation
of smaug?            
                 the military-industrial complex isn't exactly
dead... but it's like a seesaw with a fat kid:
   to many losses on one side... say 100,000 iraqis
and about 400 english troops...
                when it becomes too easy... to ****** advanced
that it: literally becomes boring...
                  no kind of memorial will do it for me,
i'm still involved in the military-consumerism complex...
          like: it's so so "complex"...
                          throw **** here, throw a **** there,
and then not ask for spoilt snowflakes to come along.
             if i only said something original
i would have been more than happy...
        but since i didn't, and it's all there for everyone
to see, i guess i had to turn toward
         orthographic "inconsistencies" -
or those dreaded words: inverted commas...
     "    "     i'm seeing four, no one writes the un-inverted
comma, since no one writes,, and doesn't point out:
oh look! a typo!
a m a n d a Jun 2014
impossibly beautiful
   hands gripping the wheel,
i feel like my heart is tearing
  a hole through time
with its implosive sadness
   impossible greens
a memory of that voice, low
   in my ear
and it's suddenly so hard
to breathe
why did you fly like that,
in the night?
you saved me.
without knowing or trying
you saved me
i could climb the mountain
i could stand against the mountain,
for you.
you cannot hope to grasp
what you love.
you can only let it
roll over you in waves
wash you in tears
bring you high,
close to the sun.
my imagination scalds
with violating stains
of contemptuous familiarity
agonised shrieks
confront my mouth
with an unremitting combustibility
while a frustration like a volatile tornado
engulfs me with an hallucinated savagery
detonating unrelenting explosions
within my consciousness of perception
causing a hurricane of momentum
bringing such oddities to my mind
as such precludes their proper elucidation
yet a tempestuously implosive inner cosmos
is located a volcanic insurgence
the accelerative storm on which
the poem like Valkyries rides
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2016
or how to make the eclectic concentrated,
how to make a zemstwa potion (revenge
potion) - long are the days of educated
Germans citing Grecian words -
my bilingualism gives me a patriotism
to use a language foreign to me,
and still embrace importing Church Slavonic:
                 but what a simple word
zemstwa is: less revenge and more retribution.

karakan: a ****** / dwarf -
but in an inoffensive sentence.
    people in the anglo realm always say
the phrases: where're are you from, originally?
and... how do you say it, properly?
        you first employ a knowledge of
syllable butchery: prophets of the surgical
procedure -
                 macron and umlaut both
akin in arithmetics -
                                  for what's later a comma.
Sartre plagiarised Joyce with *iron in the soul
,
     left out all forms of punctuation,
akin to the English language leaving out all
forms of syllable punctuation in reverse -
      which goes against Socrates doing the
Kabbalistic methodology of sounds as atoms,
cut up?      so-  -crat- -es.
                                 Dr. Satan said: it's so.
        i already said that language is the most volatile
substance known to man...
             and that the only people who get to write
books in the west: are people who are asked to write
books in the first place.
      there's me, in a darkened corner:
a coroner's phrase -
                i would be a true idle drunk had i no
tenacity to write and drink...
   by now i'm halfway through a bottle of *** -
Bacardi - or Bacardí - acute iota to get a stress /
prolonging into an ee         - because
you rarely hear someone say Afrikaan: or
   Afrikān - they taught you punctuation of words /
compounds - but they didn't teach you
how diacritical marks are also incisors
    stating that there are two hydrogen atoms and
an oxygen bound to in a reaction with potassium -
or such guises lost or forgotten.
                    it's aesthetic in the informal sense,
in the formal sense: power.
                 no one wants a flower-power hippy cuddle
moment these days, it's true:
                   they want fierce knowing -
people want glasses -
                to possess the Galilean power struggle
stated with cyclops Jupiter being noticed
and saintly Saturn -
                      a different spirit rummages through me
and hence the differential vibration of
the hushed lynx: named Larry.
                     in flames: metaphor -
well, you know, you begin the night with
a change of tone: former barley murky gods' ****
                    amber - to Caribbean clarity -
you're bound to find a difference in shaky "the shadow"
stevens of your hands - i'm way past
the absinthe romanticism - sugar cubes alight
are like latex gimp masks: you start yearning for
the countryside hiatus of forever:
    David Attenborough-esque narrated *** scenes,
birds and the bees, and storks.
                       as sure as Moonday in a
monocle i say: the world events shouldn't drag you
into their narrative - avoid them - avoid them at all
costs: you're not a power broker in their final
summit - you can't change them, turn your attention
elsewhere, into niche topography of interest:
with a very minor demographic of shared coagulation
to express it... back when fame was less of a harrowing:
back when there was no personality cult activation:
a banker said to me once, randomly on a walk:
Newton, what a load of *******!
        and hence the ballistic missiles and that thing
about global warming: for every action there's an
equal and opposite reaction (3rd law) -
     Descartes thought would be part of the
conspiracy theorist columnal dogma reiteration -
doubt is wrong (albeit good faith)
         and negation is right (albeit bad faith,
as Sartre already said) -
     so in turn the tongue: the doubters turn the tongue
into the four limbs with boxing gloves included -
  waggle all you want, the pessimism is already
there - the deniers? they had clothes for their tongue
to make the most spectacular claims about
being naked, when actually dressed at Harrods
in that cheap **** that says: all pharaoh cool, cool.
i'll find more pearls in the reflection of the moon
upon an ocean than i'll ever see donned by pearl
necklace ladies at a fashion week goose-step stomping
anorexics show in London - and that's the truth.
     i'm not a biblical literalist - but **** me!
we were given a poisoned fruit, and told we would
be able to tell apart good & evil, but never from
the two divergent stances, hence the bundled up salad
of like for like -
                     this is Moses as poet, rather than
a general - before telling me he didn't exist
and was mere fiction: tell me he was a cunning poet
before being a cunnin general -
                  in a hundred years' time: you too will
be a myth, that's logically applied history after
being ignored for too long it cannot attract
september the 1st, 1939 - because mythology is
a form of history that detests exactness of dating
and hindsight - it happened: people didn't
really give a **** when it did, done!
     we really do not have a capacity to censor
*******...  not in life, on the street, on t.v., or in a courtroom,
           we don't!
                                   i treat it as a puzzle
rather than a fruit though, otherwise, to be stark-naked
honest: we'd be ****** gorilla boring and that would
be the end of our self-projection as questioning
the void we're in: it would have been blindly
nodded to - and ours': such a pivotal and yet also
pathetic rebellion -
                                 yet again, the world is going
into the shredder - looks elsewhere:
i'm looking at a poem by jack spicer -
he's not a great poet, meaning? he has a decency to
be one... which means he's not oratory
therefore he's implosive, therefore he's part of
the magnetic-enzyme strand of writing:
he attracts people to write -
                    he's not a Bukowski or a Ginsberg -
god no...
                  the seemingly mediocre is there
because of the paparazzi sentiment toe-ward
the greats (on purpose) -
                    you end up feeling:
i need to say something - instead of feeling:
a heckler! shut, the, ****, up!
      that's being perceived as mediocre goes:
it's a fatality of what not to adopt and improve;
like that line about the doubter's tongue being
dressed in fists and knees -
   and the denier's tongue being dressed in Gucci
and Dolce to look the part and
         hardly spread a cup of sweated over panic.
      pro-me-thee-us
      pro-me-thee-us
      five years
      the song singing from its black throat (Jack)
  sure... but it's pro-me-fee-oose - right?
this goes back to not having "punctuation"
flint sharpenings on atoms of lingua -
                 sure, have them between compounds,
but never ascribe them to letters?
  bound to be trouble....
             d'eh very point of fought over is to be
count, unawares: thinking.
then i picked up a very ancient text,
ibn sina / abū alī al-husayn ibn sīnā:
variation, properly?
i'd put a macron over y in al-husaȳn -
     otherwise it's almost like a question of
practising punctuation: which is a variation of
constructing from syllables, rather than
alphabetical beginnings - now let's look
at the variation "how do you pronounce it?"
         e-bin   c-n'ah       ah-boo       a'h-lee
              who-sane         e-bin         see-n'ah

this is how English looks like when undressed
from its lack of applying diacritical marks -
god it's ugly,
               get that Texan gunslinger drawl with
it too: like i'll ever be a cowboy: pff!
yes, there are people out there who enjoy
t.v. shows and look at them fish-eyed glassy -
then there are those that like football games -
but then the few of us look at something like the
following as means for transcendental mind-games
above crosswording:
(Kantian 0 = negation,                1 must therefore
                    mean affirmation, and 2 doubt:
as in: being of two minds)
   ibn Sana (tome of wisdom) -

            R  H
A  0  0  0  0  0  0  B
C  0  0  0  0  0  0  D­
            T  G
                                     this diagram is so idiosyncratic
it would well be a diaphragm -
                                   it's a scematic:
but it's certainly not a need to make language
trivia, in a sense trivial:
             it is a metaphysical translation of a pearl -
the same triviality can be applied to it
as our bewilderment ascribed toward the
analogous translation of it via avaricious people
and precious gems -
             it's not even a Xeno's paradox type of
looky-looky -
                 it's a sort of complete human being type
of scenario: an X marks the spot where you
     grow dumb with: does it matter?
      well: logic that's not restrained (on holiday)
produces such things -
                 such schematics:
   they are artefacts of a way to forget the daily
function of language between people:
as way to suggest: there is a way to get things done
by not getting them done.
                   i could have replaced the original
with a higher tier abstract, namely using less meaningful
encoding symbols, given that 0 - 9 are incompetent
of the 26 variabilities, and the why & i
            yumper and jumper,
   cat and kilogram                    cue, q, kappa -
skewers -     which makes it less than 26,
or the said: ∞      and a - z variation limit from
aardvark                    and   zyzzogeton -
zoo... in between.
                            i don't know what ibn is
trivialising / doing an original antidote to a crossword,
but i can say, given that i found the punctuation
scalpel in non-applied punctuation within letters
in the End-leash language - what i found stark
naked: by the way - the reason that philosophers
never applied grammatically categorising words
in their systems, is why we have that sort of
momentum of applicability in the field of robotics:
to categorise words by their noun or verb
is a reason why philosophy books never applied
such words in their reasoning - therefore the need
to write a book with such words being relevant
as translated into their precise irrelevance
and the relevance of the field of robotics.
never mind, i could have written
          
                     <  ≥
£           .   .   .   .   .   .  ≠ (÷)
= (x)     .   .   .   .   .   .  $
                     ≤  >                        thus the denial
of all plausible conversation on the matter:
and Herr Grinch and the rags to riches
fairytale - and the lottery, and the otherwise
grim simga of the yawning grey plateau;
did i get something wrong?
                 this is an example of an alter-crossword,
and the reason that mathematicians aren't
good at mental arithmetic is because
they have to learn mathematical shorthand
for their arguments, they become kindred spirits
of courtroom stenographers.
Chloe K Jun 2013
We nestle into chaos like an old friend’s embrace,
Spitting fire-encrusted words sharp as the smack of my palm on freckled skin,
Under skyline bespeckled night like ebony, hearts like stone,
We became a self-consuming ever-implosive volcano.
***** slithered through our veins igniting synapses into eruption,
Your fingernails dug into my palm, your name hoarse on my throat,
We crave these embittered words, these scorched nights.
Mad as hatters, we beat on, drunkenly gulping down saltwater tears.
In the morning I’ll kiss your temple, love.
We forget our sins.
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2017
at this point, i really don't know where to begin, in all earnet;
   this might seem unfathomable, but it's the case...

perhaps i'll begin from the end:
       ć - a shortening of ch -
                            and the case of unimaginative nouns,
say: the noun table, or chair...
       they're dull...
                           inanimate things tend to
have dull indentifications - they're dull nouns,
      they resemble the nature of the thing being named,
they don't move, they don't speak...
        but esp.                       they don't bloom -
and there's no hope for a revival of them...
   that table? that chair? it has no hope in any attempt
to return to its former, original form, i.e. a tree.

            but you already have two perfectly good
examples of a linguistic transgressions, and what's
   truly, nothing more laziness -
           the czech (check) republic...
                     what's the other one?
****... off the top of my head: i can't remember.
  
    we are talking about the second dimension of applied
diacritical marks, aren't we?
   ć     - the acute syllable scalpel is identified
                when the **** of iota enforces itself -
in an e.g. cieć (loosely... a trickle of **** from
                                                  a wound)....
                      what these symbols actually are,
are not necessarily idiosyncrasies, particular to whatever
particular they are designated to...
    look at them as punctuation marks,
             but not between words, instead within words;
sure, the ć example can only be interpreted
                     as sharpening the ch / cz compound...
because single letters are, after all, atomic.
                and there are ways of hiding -
      a č hides the z or the h: depending what
part of europe you're from...
                     but in the west they still know how to
pronounce czech republic... but have a hard time
    pronouncing the car manufacturer's logo:
              škoda - that's sh- / sz-      -koda....
                     that's being ******* rude, you don't
just avoid that sign... what? you think those people put
it up: so that it looks "pretty"?
                     the fact that škoda = szkoda (sh)
    in another langauge, and means oh well is another
matter.

    no, what really got me going to write this piece
begun as a rumour... yet another attack in germany...
football fans, bombs under buses...
         even the sadist in me (if there ever was one)
  thinks real hard about enjoying the amalgam
                        rooted in ethnicity of my nation's
former enemies... i'm really going to cringe on that point;
i cringe at white men dancing the new zealanders'
                                         - haka -
(māori)                            ergo?                      ­háka;
see it's a human decency to put "punctuation" marks
onto words... a bit like putting a kippah in a synagogue...
      so you get to then write:     ha!     ka!
           the phonetic incision in the second syllable
                                   it not necessary;
but hey! they mustered enough ***** to state in
condensed macron form a prolonging:
                             i.e.                        maa'ori.
actually, given the **** of iota, i'd write that as
                                            maa'o'rí -
         like the last letter is throwing something real
akin to a torero's                                    olé!

    what i am lamenting is the indecency of the english
language... in that they don't practice the aesthetic
of diacritical appropriation, and having acquired this
language aged 8, and having synthesised it for, oh 20 odd
years, analysing it has shown me that the english
language is far too peppered with minute idiosyncracies
that are beyond a chance of a diacritical approach being
established... as i already stated,
       czech - that word has no place in the uniform
rules of otherwise english, in matra form true here, true
there, true throroughly
.
                       combine the eastern variant of
the western "sensibility" and all you get is: chech -
                                                             chalk-cheque.
                   you can't apply diacritical indicators to ease
the suffering of dyslexics when timing their syllable
intake... you really hear hardly anything of dyslexia
in poland... maybe because there are clear incisor
                                        "coordinates" in the words?
                      like commas descending from on high?

but as the title indicates, this is but a minor point,
what bugged me today was -
     the east sports birds as emblems of their nationhood
status...
     the west? ******* flowers.

the scots?             a thistle.
   the irish?      a clover.
the english?     a rose.
            the dutch?              a tulip.
   the french?   a ******* lily!

           coming from a people that has an eagle
as its national emblem, i thought:
                         how about we choose a flower for
ourselves, and imitate these former angry colonial *******?
but on an implosive basis, so we bite into the rocks
   and slur out the words:      i'm not moving!

so i asked an older soul...
- given the above examples, what flower could contend
                  to be the naational flower of poland?
- well... there's the malwa (malva - mallow)
                 and there's the dalia (dahlia).

   i actually can remember the scent of a mallow,
the flower as such doesn't smell of anything,
   a bit like a jasmine....
                                              the leaves have the distinct
perfume, just like nettles have the distinct itch
protruding from their stems....
                                  but i was like:
   sure the mallow could be a national emblem of poland...
       but i was like: that doesn't go back to the root
of my curiosity...
                         some nouns sound so much better
in your native tongue...
       i know it's not a flower...
                   but when you're walking in the ancient
heart of your soul, that's a pine forest...
                    and you spot a bush
         and it's a paproć   (ferns!) -
                                i'll choose that as the nation's emblem...
sure, the mallow does have a nostalgic potency
to remember my great-grandmother who survived
           the second world war...
                                      but i kinda like the word
      paproć.... plus, it wouldn't be clever to imitate
western nations, with their....    FLOWER! POWER!
    i really have to make a cryptic joke by now:
   lauren sauthern = leonid brezhnev = gordon brown.
Bowedbranches Oct 2015
Its getting down to the bottom
Of a bottle
I couldn't even afford
I see your face sometimes
In reflections
Periphery tricks
You're somewhere far away now
I don't want to write cliche love poems
Until ******* flows out of my ears
But I want to tell you....
Waking up next to you
and caressing your prickly Irish beard,
Making you laugh,
Telling you to stop poking me in the **** leg
Are the most cherished memories I have
Thank you for sharing them
I know I'll never wake to that again
So I guess it's back to searching for you in the dream world
Where you embrace me
and I'll say it's okay my "Bebe"
We're just fine,
"I love you."
Mateuš Conrad Dec 2017
gambling, and to think that money has become rampant, pointless, towering over man, where once money was deemed an effective medium of passing labour, now, gambling has proved the complete defunct nature of the construct... when once a respectable way of rewarding shared labours, now, a means to bloat it, inflate it, give it extra cotton candy... i'd like to see times when money had some value, but since there is none to it in an applicable sense, no wonder its flushed down the toilet at the gambling table... for a "species" that wonders at making things refined and more efficient, to see the unrefined end product of the ultimate inefficiency; it's almost sad to watch.

i understand islam in only one way,
if i heard correctly islam
dictates a rigour in appreciating
money,
           in that, if i (once again) heard
correctly, islam doesn't
appreciate interest...
    i.e. if you borrow £100,
          you give £100 back...
    not £100 + 20%...
                  and i really do appreciate
the sanity of using money,
an abstract (compared to the value
of gold or timber, or a painting)
form of a thing...
   but the problem is, money has become
less and less reasonable,
in that it has become less tool-like
and more: parasitic-like.
              i do appreciate the fact
that money creates an exponential growth
of possible jobs,
  that it allows people to do nothing
more than a *Pilate gesture
-
i.e. washing their hands clean...
    but we live in times of hidden slavery,
i have a friend who's in his 50s...
he's not paying off his house,
       he doesn't own it,
        he's paying off the interest rates!
so basically he's renting rather than working
toward a capital...
          i have no idea how the original
idea of money has become infested by
a %... it should really be written
     %10 rather than any elevation to
a currency...
                  £10 is actually £23.50 when
monday it is spent, and by friday when it's
asked to be repaid...
  it's an implosive multiplication,
covert...
       you ask for a potato,
you're asked for four potatoes back!
          i can't believe that people are still
so sane if at least playing the role of sensible
with a thing, that's clearly inorganic,
and can't self-replicate without a cheat
mechanism being in place...
             like i said, if i heard correctly,
islam abhors usury -
                lending on an interest...
     but i might have misheard this,
even though i might not have, misheard it...
i understand money in that
i understand someone willing to do
   a ****** job to get his UNIVERSAL UNIT
of interaction,
i get that, i'd do a ****** job if i had to
in order to watch the Pilates of this world
play the Gatsby...
(book? not so great)....
                    the philosopher's stone
the trans-valuation of values is but a copper
coin away from any reason to
fathom a sensibility in such affairs...
      but imagine merely paying off
the interests rates, and never the product
you supposedly bought...
            **** me that's a tearjerker -
all the communists in hell are either laughing
or immune in a pensive pose of:
the **** is that?
           - and if this is true about islam,
i.e. you take one, you give one back...
and not,
you take one, you give two back...
money unlike any other thing in this world
is sick... it's infected with
a propagation virus...
         a mad self-multiplier...
the same self-multiplier which is the reason
why we produce more than we need,
in that we produce both product,
         and waste.
                    even if you applied the keenest
of minds in the field of mathematics to
the concept of money,
   you'd create a half-breed of
both genius and ******...
         since economics is the antithesis of
mathematics, as is the mathematicians'
abandonment of the calculator,
   the only worthwhile arithmetic these days
is imbued by the spelling of a word
correctly...
                 you don't write it: you snap into it!
- and i must admit, a strange way
of "counting" - rearranging the set pieces -
which explains why there's a blind-spot
in the japanese puzzle: súdokū -
again: diacritical marks are punctuation
marks from above, intra-verbum not
inter-verbum...
         once again, why is money so supposedly
complex? it's not,
   i can understand that some people
would prefer someone else to do something
unpleasant, like, slaughter a cow
and never make it to guest list of a baron's
banquet...
  i understand the Pilate gesture -
i wouldn't even appreciate the baron's
company to say the least,
         but money, as it was originally intended
is sick...
     it can't be anything more than
a sickness that has infected it...
mind you, my father is self-employed,
you know how they actually treat contractors?
like ****...
   he asked for travel expenses
  for his sub-contractors...
                he wasn't paid the travel expenses...
say what you will, but at least communism
had some principles,
this degenerate disintegration,
decomposition of capitalism due to the lack
of external competition on
ideological grounds is festering into
     what one might only see as:
cannibalism...
                when companies shed
their respect for the workers,
  whether independent of aligned to a company
ethos, something will finally give way...
i understand money,
but money has a virus in it,
  it's become a false multiplier of itself...
sure, that might have added to the success
of the multiplication of mankind
but as people have noted:
a universal wage...
since how much work is there to be done
these days, when all this demand for
work inevitably produces a waste product
from over-production?
          money was never supposed
to covertly self-multiply exponentially -
which means why money no longer has
the same value as it once did,
ascribed to something valuable -
paper money is toilet paper -
            as already suggested by
those bankers burning it to light a cigar...
a perpetual hellhole where even
         a DaVinci canvas is paper and is worth
such as much...
             idealistic? tosh...
                no wonder people have started
to look for value in the crevices of ownership...
but i don't understand the smart-phone
clinging... i said crevices i didn't imply
a ******* ball & chain...
                            a crease in a shirt,
the fact that -1 feels a lot warmer on a dry night
than +5 on a wet night...
                 i'll still fall asleep today
thinking that money has is infected with
a parasitic entity,
after all... not even money, is beyond
illness...
                 if money corrupts,
it would seem only sensible that
the first thing to be corrupted, would be the thing
that corrupts...
    money made sense, once upon a time...
   it truly did...
           now all it resembles is spare change,
or the fact that, once upon a time,
you would be deemed mad when
finding a £20 banknote on the street,
as i have done.
Rustle McBride Jun 2016
Here you stand blowing raspberries
at my phonemic skills.
Please close your lips. Just listen.
Learn of bilabial trills.

You may call me an animal
for my alveolar clicks,
for in America its only real use
is for catcalling chicks.

And not many understand
a velar implosive stop,
that the words are the gurgle
of a doughnut shop cop.

And yes,  my pharyngeal fricative
sounds like something's amiss.
But its not always contempt,
like some puppet show hiss.

So, if you just could excuse
my pulmonic ingressive,
I promise, If it feels like it hurts,
I will be singly expressive.

I guess all I can say
is that when you hear what I say,
remember, it more than just words
that I try to convey.
a poet's take on linguistics
-------------------------------------
DAEJR Nov 2012
Hold your heart to your ear
Phump *** Phump ***                                                                           Phump *** Phump ***
like a shell that murmurs
Phump *** Phump ***                                                            Phump *** Phump ***
forever the oceans voice
Phump *** Phump ***                                             Phump *** Phump ***
your only tool that honest sound
Phump *** Phump ***              Phump *** Phump ***
echolocation
PHUMP *** PHUMP ***
PHUMP *** PHUMP ***


You’ll find Eachothersworld
It’s there in your heart beats
as you enter each through skin and soul
failing at reverse mitosis
but trying still to mend your belly-buttons
a sweaty implosive will
to reach that single point
of singularity
a love that bleeds
outwards and inwards
a white hole

It warms the cooling tub
and causes the plains and the valleys to
softly shift sweetly
like the old dance of mountains
in fast forward
as naked knees caresses each other
up and down
in and out of
the pearly bubble clouds
their shadow stroking you
between rippled light
and their fragrance weaving
a musk of togetherness
as you embrace creating Eachothersworld

It unites two bodies
two minds
a planet like home
permeating times and universes
You’ll find peace there
You’ll find yourself there
You’ll find him there
And no distance can draw a rift
wide enough to split you from each other
because you’ll remember
your hearts beat the same sound
and Loneliness will die
as its stabbed by
sound

PHUMP *** PHUMP ***
PHUMP *** PHUMP ***

PHUMP *** PHUMP ***
PHUMP *** PHUMP ***


We’ll burry it there
in our skies
our lands
our seas
in Eachothersworld
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2017
why was i motivated to write what i wrote
yesterday?
      let's just say:
  how about your idiotic english peasant simpleton
argues with your mother
        and causes your other neighbour
      to come out and threaten to punch them
for their imbecile behaviour?
   how about that?
       what happened: i was getting a new roof -
i had contractors i paid to change the tiles -
     and he comes out and mouths off
           your mother saying: ooh, they're leaving
too much mess, and you shouldn't be refurbishing
your roof: because my wife is pregnant.
    now you're pushing it... mmm?
                what is she? the ******* ****** mary?
you're protecting a rotting prune of a woman and
she's probably going to plop up a ****** with
that disgusting late 40s womb...
                                        oh this is malice -
i know it's malice, because logic states:
                talk to the people working on the site
      rather than the contractors who paid their
    pontius pilate dues...
                                         i.e. washed their hands clean
of the affair.
                           you know: i can't believe i'm
being dragged to the local level of affairs being "serious"...
but you know... when they say something about
your mother... you start throthing at the mouth:
whether loud or silent... you're going to take to a cobra bite...
         ******* ****** is so panicky about
                                      me that
                                  he finds my laughter in
the night to be filled with nothing but malice -
           well... d'uh!
                                     if i could just squeeze in
a moment in my day (between my drinking sessions)
a chance to spot him... i'd just talk to him for a while...
still, here's to next door... with a dry prune of
a woman's womb... and on the grander scale:
        western society...
                     you know they're having a breeding
program in Poland?
                              yeah... they're paying them to have
babies at the appropriate age... early 20s...
                   i actually can respect a teenage woman
having a baby, the father disappearing
and the state supporting her... but a woman in her 40s
having her first child?        that's not going to happen.
       but hey, yin yang -
                    you forget the father sticking to his
young "bride"...
                       you're going to have to microwave
those fried hash-browns... and let me tell you:
                                                it's like eating slugs.
once more!
             so your wife's pregnancy dictates that
    i should be careful about walking on egg-shells?
                          she's nearly 50! what can she bake
in that oven of hers?!
                           some sort of darwinistic spectacular?!
  this is england...
                            out of its biological framework...
                what? i can't update my roof because your
decaying prune of a woman is having a down foetus?
                         abled men, discriminated against
       having something that could, perhaps, use a pair
of scissors: to spread butter on toast.
Bongani Moyo Mar 2018
when I'm at my worst,
my mind doesn't hesitate to remind me,
that I am nothing more,
than a collection of whispered prayers and Pyrrhic victories.
To win and not feel like winning at all is a greater disappointment than losing when you cared most.
Vernarth was ready at the threshold of the validity of the constellation of Orion, barely a hundred millionths as indicated by the Duoverse in his Cosmogonic amphiboly, and sensitive to physical space with the Kli vessels that he carried on his back that were in the proximity of the Loop of Bernard as the Omission nebula as the exponential hemicycle in the center of Aurion's oculus waiting for Vernarth and redistribute its molecules at 518 light-years or 440 Parsec, with the diameter that will be reflected in Patmos of more than 300 light-years condensed with the element of Hydor or water from high space over Aurion. Vernarth, united by the fragrant hand of the Mashiach, could carry it when he moved away from the Opistodomos and the remains of incandescent lagoons of supernova materials that surrounded them to accelerate the mass of the Iridescent Nimbus that Vernarth would carry, and the Mashiach as a sentinel of his Purgation. already defined whenever the simultaneous explosion of the Super Nova with Patmos becomes effective, and the Terrestrial World in impulsiveness that admonished him under the right shoulder blade in the skinny hollow of the arm that was getting rid of the oscillometer right at the original entrance of Betelgeuse, and when Vernarth remained alone in the frontal altitude chamber to take off towards the cosmogonies of Eridanus to tune into the Ptolemaic astral. The Sybilla who acted as stellar consort would be Herophile with overtones of expansion and her brilliant metric mass that would take her through Betelgeuse Orionis allied to a multifunctional instrument such as the entrance Aulos, expelling hydrogen-like an Ace in 240 harmonic scales, and sounds of light that they boomed towards the Pleiades and the Milky Way where it would be the supposed first state of paradox where Vernarth would utter: "Give me a little Gála and I will be more than Zeus". This is where he will experience the diarthrosis of his synovial joints in the process of Hyaline cartilage, allying himself with the two bones and synovium to hunt down the Trapper Aurion in advance to wake up from the feared defenseless world that he feared since everything he abandoned despite having his Purg discharged, he kept sensing that if nothing would work for a lost world. Here Vernarth would hold Alexander the Great's first childhood vision as an infant at Péla using his scapula with the force of rubbing discs at the Olympiad making the sky his Odyssey-encrusted Constellation of whips, and sullen Hellenistic being by May in the amber trunk trapezoid and in each hand a Xiphos and Dorus.

The pathologies were at the forefront with dexterous inclinations of his Kopis to the west when he throws it and the whistle of return makes him see that the meteorites reached as far as his gaze could observe the latitudes of the Tyrrhenian. He takes his bronze-brass cudgel with the corrosive breath, filing the odysseys on the concupiscent ******* of Eos, Goddess of the dawn, opening the heavens of the eager natives of Gála, by sipping raw milk from the right edge of the corner of her upper lips before the first dawns of the world, when Eos would be in grains or grasses that brandished from the bronze club that Vernarth waited for before leaving Gaia, or rather the fertile land of Patmos that officiated at him. Mega hectares appeared that threatened Enopion's revenge, disturbing his eyes that shone in Hesiod's striae by advocating for him in the Duoverse where all deities would be annulled but his psychic ramifications as stellar humans would be covered by the action of Helium gas. In this way Vernarth was already bidding farewell to Saint John the Apostle with his rounded eye set on the shine of both pupils between Mintaka, Alnitak, and the third shine of his pupils united in communion with Vernarth when arriving sideways at the pale shine of Alnilam (The Three Mariah) fourth star to follow in Orion as the brightest of the three on Vernarth's neck like a necklace of precious pearls. In this way, he climbed the steps to measure the slow brilliance of the immensity of the celestial solstice that raised him with the expedient Sun that also led him towards the twelfth lunation of the celestial vault attached to Pléyone in his bolometric oceanic matrix, which will arise between the stellar limitrophe between the Canes Mayores and Menores, and a priori in the measurement of the eye of Aurion always harassing the Pleiades. The intrigue will be reborn for the second time from the Duoverse's momentum that Vernarth will have to leave in the biosphere oscillation wasteland of Prometheus already freeing himself from life in community, and from an extreme sensitivity of major psychic connections that will flow throughout the immensity of inaccessible time. , on the atmosphere of the earth like bronzes that twist in the necks of the oxen that urinate on the endowments of the Barnard Loop, and its polyphonic magnetic exciter, on it the ***** of Orion falling on the poles as flagrant Amphibology. The Kanti Steed and the Aorion nebula to the beat of a waltz will ionize chemical portents of ions free of electrons, on the neutral molecules of Betelgeuse to propagate in the nerves of the shoulders of the bronze club ad limit of harmonious praxis, and net compromise by supplying steps to the nebula and art of the Duoverse that shows the primeval daily days as in his alchemical armband, germinating astral Lynothorax and axillary armpit that held him in his maximum club, cutting down roots of Olivo Bernar after Barnard's Loops in between of fugitive stars that go regimented in their ionized bleeding esplanade, like Stellae Novae that transfers astronomical cults in the formation and pretext of going through the darkness to sleep near his parents Poseidon and Euryale, acclaiming him near the gramineous fields to paste him with explosive clay on the portfolio of such a smiling face drunk with Ionian wine, in precedence of the disemi nar by the new and expandable Duoverso, Vernarth was already on the last steps of the stairs similar to that of Florence in the Medicea Laurenziana as well said to feel alive when going to paradise next to the Messiah who came to pick him up. But at times electrifying residues would vanish over his field of vision in small beams or flashes, which would prevent him from moving forward to the last stirrups without looking back where all the Birthright was watching him for one last time.

Sitting on the edge of Andromeda, Zefian was waiting for him to meet him in his dark chamber, since the most intimate and primordial causality of his metaphysics emerged from the bases of the reason for all things that should exist, before everything was created and that it has never had pre-eminence as it is in this case of the parasitic chamber of Zefian in the company of the Auriga, which also came to wait for him in the calash running wild as prescribed by the Duoverse in the structures of luminosity in the midst of this colossal inter-planetary chamber, between molecular agitated points that will venture through the axon of infinity longitudinally unpredictable for light-years even though it is so. The thermal outcomes of superheated remnants over the entire luminosity will speak of the catastrophe, and of the inherent emptiness in the eyes of the eternal hothouse very close to the supernovae that can only strengthen the fusion of the space disks of the Universe-Duoverse long before the explosion between Orion and Andromeda. The axes of time will be dislocated between both astral components in this dissonant chaos that will contract with Vernarth's levitation whenever he has stepped on the last step before entering the Hydor chamber in every dark portion of the Universe, making both constellations the ferrule or ring that will yield to the underbelly of Betelgeuse, dispossessing the boasts of the appropriate Commander Hetairoi of his Lynothorax to resist the ravages and turbulence of the Apokálypsis, which brought the immense loads of matter that discharged all its constant energy through the circulating nuclear power plants, and tangents that caused galaxy changes pierced by Hetairoi Aorion clods satirizing expenses for retracting the galaxies below Soldier's precept and super homeostatic mass attracted from their distance on astronomical scales of 2.5 million light-years.

The galactogenic galaxy made use of great prominences that would cover the greater proportional that is outlined in Andromeda of the strands of the Universe adjacent to the spiral that rolls on the underbelly, deferring to telescope sections, and the gravitational field to execute its nocturnal translation like the Hyperdisis Galaxy that collects the bubbling of the belt in conjunctions of minor stars making star mechanics by exaltation, and magnetic disorders creating other leading atmospheres in those detached from the cord of Andromeda, the Milky Way, and Orion. Vernarth was still holding on to the transparent hand of the Messiah while he was climbing the ascension steps to Hydor that would transport him to travel with him through the globular clusters, they will form the perfect delay in transfusing the lineage and not another, in this way the Lynothorax or bleeding pectoral de Vernarth continued to flow from this polynomial tractatum between all area subjugation guidelines, and refinement of the sagittal profile of Hyperdisis in the inter-galactic reversible staked Duoverse.

Lenticular to irregular above the nails of the trapezoid, it spread towards Aurion's right armband, sequentially making the centric radiogram hiccup, despite taking advantage of interstellar matter to self-generate its own transmission light, this made it refrain from emanating the hybridity that came out of its body by vibrating above everything that expelled from its center towards the right rectitude of Orion, thus making the multiplied speed of containing itself of both parts of the null hemisphere of its free will when verifying that it never existed, that it was only an illusion of doubtful matter that would soon Go away like gasified water on the galactic repulsions that would settle on Patmos as devotions of Skalá, and Astro-omegas that would be adhered to the Xiphos and Kopis, who were still united to their being rather in the contour of the perimeter of his soul two meters floating like invisible quantum universes. The totality of everything was inciting the fields of omega-stars that would begin to advance after becoming visible from the spur of the sword that became denser with the viscosity of the Hebrew Adom, which trickled from Orion to Hellenic lands as an Omega age for Vernarth which is conceived early when it carries Hecate's Kleidia or keys to the Omega world towards the proto-galaxies that provide ultramarine loaves, knowing that the Milky Way and Andromeda come so close in their stellar mass that they can collide in a few million light-years. The Duoverse of Hyperdisis was predicted in the visual reality of a fusion of change to interact with each other as it dismembered but re-transformed into the new theoretical core of the Duoverse as a large Black Hole embedded in the center of Patmos. In such a way all the inhabitants began to worry when phenomenal masses of warm air that began to take on the appearance of the Universe plagiarized each other generating incoming earthquakes, not affecting the Opistodomos or the Primogeniture, nor the crowd that was waiting. of all the monstrosity of monks who were grouped kneeling on the top of the Profitis, floating the shattered shaggy skein parts of the Himation. As it was dyed in the albi-color of Calígine, demonstrating the darkness of the intrinsic terror of whoever plows later to free all the succumbed who fell throughout Greece and Judah, exposing all the origins of appearance from the internal now in the converted Universe that was reimplanting itself in the helical of polarity, and bifurcating by pretexting all the reincarnations and polishing the stagnant cessation of darkness towards a luminance that could warn them and observe where their feet could move, sheltered from the monumental litter of calorimetry, and chromatics that was linked in romances trivial with the residuals of the angel shark galaxies where Aurion's progenies will deliver in candelas per square meter: LV waking is the luminance, measured in Nits or candelas per square meter (cd/m²).

• F is the luminous flux, in lumens for the Andromeda triad, the Milky Way, and Hyperdisis in conjunction with Orion. From here Vernarth will supply all of them as the one who will dwell in it in the preface of his Fables of Calígine with the following: "Ex Calígine Chaos: ex Chao et Calígine, Nox, Dies, Erebus, Aether", which transliterated means "Of Darkness: Chaos. From Chaos and Darkness: Night, Day, Erebus, and Ether", Decreeing the (Burning Darkness) before Chaos as flow F, is he also the only one who divinized this abstraction, conferring a proper meaning to the word. And then make of the normality of dwelling in the darkness that is the irrevocable opulence of the desire to maintain the radiance of all the forces that devour eternity. From the remote aces came dark families of flying Lepidoptera Ditrisios, lined up with countless other species that carried dimensional eyes that will be devoured by ocelli or giant eyes that come from the chaos of Vernarth's Caligine to appease the effects of ultraviolet rays, which started from the Nimbus Iridescent creating a layer of protection between the new dimension of the twilight of flight that was already beginning to ignite from the Aurion's scaly fingers.

• dS is the surface element considered the triad Kímolos, Rodas and Patmos. While Vernarth is distracted, he manages to dissipate the twilight of the inverted Erebus between Eleos and Ezis, personifying Clemency and Sadness, where they border the worlds that are not yet riddled with chaos or Calígine, who exalted himself over Erebos with the redemption of Eleos, who was getting ready to swallow the sadness of Ezis. Therefore Kimolos, Rhodes, and Patmos will consolidate their hegemony of unalterable lands where Eleos' piece of clemency will bring the support that makes Ezis's faceless portent, close to the hybridity of the Itheoi gods, in the Transversal Valleys of the Horcondising, with the Norns and generosity of Apollo who had given them after long stays in Hyperborea as female spirits once again as advocacy and imperishable protection of the legacy of Smintheus's travels by providing the company of Dísir, Uror, Verdandi, and Skuld as a female entity, of the past, current and future that should occur by order of Skuld. This will allow the three to unite with the Ds to merge the three as a complement of three female entities that will safeguard all climate change on future disasters in the Dodecanese.

• dΩ is the solid angle element, from Vernarth Omega and the origin of the Duoverse. From this premise, the worst of Vernarth's fears was to let go of the Messiah's hand and fall into the anger that blushes even Hetairoi Hero from Deimos, when the night reverts to the rest of the demons and the night adopts those who go perceiving in Vernarth that perhaps he was holding hands with Ares for the battle alongside his brother Etrestles, under the orders of the savagery of the metaphysical engines of panic. From this vision, Vernarth manages to open his eyes with the desire to show those who were watching him and to be able to show that he was aware of being a prisoner of his emotions and escaping from himself in the illustrious suffering of thousands of arrows, which ran around him like fleeting meteorites to the flat field of Tisiphone's revenge. The luminances became and became colors that were molecularly twinned with disparate tones that were capable of differentiating them, and at the same time nullifying the power of obscuring Vernarth's countenance to take his right hand and take the arrow to break the darkness that was lunged at him.

• θ is the angle between the diameter from Andromeda and the Milky Way (2.5 million light-years), Nemesis or Ramnusia as the retributive coercion of disobedience, being aware Vernarth became more and more of a being adopted by balance Nemesis for balance to command him to his senses before entering the field of limpidity of his soul in transit to liberate himself from all the chained who used to be happy, but sad that no one acclaimed them except Aionius Itheoi of Vernarth who translated the messages that from now on will move diametrically from Andromeda to the Milky Way, without any of these two portions being invaded only under the order of Nemesis, and Vernarth abiding by the retributive justice of The luminance that can be defined from the radiometric magnitude of the radiance without more than weighting each length of the wave by the sensitivity curve of the eye. Thus, if LV is the luminance, Lλ represents the spectral radiance and V (λ) symbolizes the sensitivity curve of Vernarth's eye in the underbelly of Betelgeuse, spilling plasma and magnetic bruises on the galaxies and Eyes of Orion.
Meanwhile, it manifested itself as a personal universe, not excluded from time and space for a metaphysical causality that will not be able to compose the mentality that is measurable in the joint senses of a Zig Zag birth from this same calígine emerging from another creature of self-observation and see the physiognomy of the anti-material and mass Universal Horcondising. From which we pre-exist to waste of science that models the system of energy and matter in causes of ancestors with which his life and ours that were propelled furtively. Gravity made great paternity in Vernarth's active Biomass, being in the Dodecanese and cosmos in the verification of curvature that makes us with the moon of its romantic astrophysical swings and exaggerated geometry of a Zigzag.

We are versatile multi-dynamic mass that expands simultaneously in the void that pauses in the Nothofagus Obliqua of Vernarth's Horcondising, and also of time2-space2 that have not been attributed to the origin of the stars that move irregularly in Zig Zag, for their immature componential that is clearly of Aramaic blue light from the Pealim of the Abba, circulating with bullets movements skimming the air of the grasses attracting the attention of the entire order of the hypnotized universe, making appear before them the duplication of the universe itself; in Duoverse, which is the recently shaken Universe and of gratitude in the distribution of nearby galaxies that are keys to the paleo kosmous already arranged in macro waves, which are percentages of the spaces of the Tri-solated energy fields, which interact with the phylogeny of the Mashiach in Gethsemane, lying now in a stagnant decomposed future, in a frozen present specific to the peri Kosmous. Its final station is to wager the Zig Zag Universe on the temporal middle Ages chrestomathies re-expanding in qualities of gregarious Sub-mythology, already settling here in Archangels to activate. The implosion of gravity has procreated worlds of visibility of magnanimous astronomical longings, in some fractions of time in Zig Zag by millions of fractioned light-years, as an irregularity that resembles the measure of everything quantifiable, being omniscience or not acquiring the hexagonal of the primogeniture of the fragment since Jerusalem goes to Bethlehem, where the Davidian prism whose Original is attributed fractal in form.

The personification of longevity was trapped by Geras, always escaping from the obfuscated universe or temperament that could be represented in humanity that relied on the antigens that served as support for the reversibility of every hero like Vernarth, who tried to glorify himself in the fullness of life in Heraklion or in the sand that was dyed red-azure when the soul of Alexander the Great would rise together with Vernarth with the Mashiach. The fractal beating line of the Mediterranean towards a vein resembling the rhinestones of King David to the Ziziphus of the Messiah simulating to be irregular symmetrical formats, to build gems in thorns of landscapes that basically subdivide into similar conical funnels, to then be randomly displaced towards its central point shared with King David's five o'clock Incorruptible crown, recursively reiterating it in each square until the eminence of the desired detail was reached in the curve that joins the landscape to Bethlehem and then to the Baptistery of the Shepherds in its hexagonal base, figuring to be the sleet in the final Crown of Rejoicing falling on the top of the roofs "Doroteo or theological gifts" in which the Mashiach's stable of Kafersuseh burst and agonized in the abstraction of the One-Dimensional Beams with foreign eyes, and own tissue eroding to mortal frowns that can be seen with their divine eyes in our own likeness, and of the planet n failed to increase the size so unknown and analytical in this peripeteia of the implosive ideology of the bubbling of the Verthian Duoverse.
The nature of the snowflakes in Bethlehem are natural fractals detailed in their nature, and in the natural infinity that here was envisioned from the new privileged world for self-similarity in speculative functions of Vertnarth, by intervals in each space of shadowy fences, bringing accelerated courier bulbs from Gethsemane in intermediates of olive trees transformed towards other humans.“Their correlation is infinite with reversible observable time, and paternal belonging to mobile gagged echoes of a space that is obstructed by Vernarth, in such a monograph and integers among the fractional integers "Finite is the curvature between the path that walks through the thickness of the Duo-Universe as an alternative of Zigzag and Duoverse energy, which is unleashed to our subconscious observable orb, and what a great beacon reflecting eye that ignores and prescribes extreme distant and focal parts of the One Dimensional Beams of Kafersuseh in Ein Karem. The Duoverse is the rehearsal Universe that the Mashiach had before coming to the Holy Land, provided by his form of Hyperdisis escorting him from Betelgeuse Orion, changes of arduous colors in gradient and Avant-Garde, for limits of perspectives and verbally of amendments of physical fields framed by an external gravitational means. The macro waves are exposed to matters not contained in the abrupt changes of the Mashiach optical selection with the One-Dimensional Beams, attracting selection crystals to atomize them in reaction disturbances, and recreation of multiform plasma saviors of Christian astronautics, examining the double of the macro waves and equation of them on the axis of the universe converted into Duoverse, already in millions of light-years, they will continue in the Duoverse, to reconvert from ectoplasm with large margins of assertiveness. Cartography is the error correction of the current universe, getting lost in the second thousandths of figures that separate us from the Universe, but all being more than time…!, remaining at the expense of the wick of the Cirio with all its electro-matter” Having already established the sub-mythology, Hestia appears after having slept a great dream, when she appeared before Vernarth in Tsambika she was seen changing size, when she was six meters away she looked tiny and when she was already two meters away from him It looked monumentally enormous, but with a versatile physiognomy, therefore it was already appreciated in the last steps with its domestic figure of a goddess that emanated light-years disserted by chimneys and its rooms. The critique of immanence that would happen, would pre-exist the perfectible plan for the Zig Zag Universe and Hyperdisis as Hyper-Hestia, bringing torn words for those who were approaching the main altar of the Vas Auric, which consisted of the great ratio of the proscenium in the Teodora vicinity of Tsambika, between Clairvoyance/Judgment for Wisdom/Meditating constant mechanisms according to the cosmological constant, leading perhaps to the beginning of a decade and third universe called the Triverse. The oscillation of all these fantasies was observed by Vernarth, but he knew that he would have to collide with this finally, already precipitated by temperatures that acted on the average of the normal range, therefore it was imminent to mutate him into the proselytizing provisional Duoverse, which moves backward between the lights vertiginous of creation. Immediately afterward, the Universe has torn apart and lost among those around him, establishing units of millions of years of compressed light from the piccolo Aulós, which Hestia carried in one of his pale hands, his prytaneion was lighting up with the flames of the heart of fire and passion of consanguineous love, "Prytaneum", paving the light in the clarity of the faith of the owners of farmhouses that were founded when they arrived in Tsambika in search of the Vas Auric, acclaiming with the omphalos stone that marked the navel of the world with defiance wandering to the island of Delos in the daily warmth of a spring afternoon in Rhodes. She is a woman with veils over her face always walking to and from her home unscathed in the house of foolish or vestal virgins, there is no Hestia, only perhaps there are some similar ones who were staying in the cold fire of her climacteric losing fertility after his father swallowed them, and then they were expelled from himself regurgitated in flaming matches from a blessed house full of indemnity, giving the Duoverse another category calculated with angles never contained vibratingly sliding between distances that discount minutes of Hestian space for such a corollary of approaching to its finitude and inaugurate the sub-finite,  which will never be a source of terminus in a disconcerting end of time not finished flush with the physical equation. “This consolidates the Duoverse in Duouniverse, expressed in figures that moderate the length of a physical state before it is consummated and restarted in a process that does not end (sub-infinite).

Vernarth was a few meters from entering the Nimbus, when suddenly his soul darkened and his panic flared..., suddenly he felt a scream from above and below he saw how everything was made of rubble. Courage blinded him, not wanting to observe what the evident end of the world and rubble intended to consume him if he said goodbye to his most beloved beings, until the lines of infinity approached those of the earthly world, intending to eliminate all traces of his family lineage. In this way, he begins to run through his hands the reflected Hydor of colors that pierced the skylight of austere words. He manages to see Calígine del Apokálypsis farther from the mist, detached from all gravitational force, only being able to see his mother among the smoke, who was coming up by a ray of light, Vernarth tries to free her from that moment of expiration but does not reach the synchrony of catastrophe in what pretended to be from the hand of Eris as the disagreement that did not allow him to put his survival weapons in order, believing that this instance would not allow him to ****** her from the goddess Eris, if he could believe that it was inevitable that his mother Luccica became a granite coat of arms, after the dark night that threatened to unravel her from her flimsy solid state, and then crumble to the ground turned into the ground that was crushed from roots that postponed it to be consumed by the gift of the light of life, and end of a light that is visible in all the roots of the earth when consumed by the infinite that vanishes in the existence of all being.

Vernarth, when a moment of clarity allows him to see his mother, tries to rescue her, realizing that his father Bernardolipo was with her, between them they would try to redeem them from the spread of Nix and Calígine, who behaved with great pain by mocking the edges of the Ether that they received Crono, they could not be victorious in arriving in time to rescue them, if from the harmony of a troubadour of the Mashiaj he observed him see if he would return with him to enter. They became visible in their parents as they contended before an avoidable awareness of this indivisible event with the aggressor words of hindrances and generations of millennials who anticipated the omega of everything in the lower part, under the feet of their parents appearing insignificant one (w) that precedes and succeeds the beginning of a beginning based on the end of a beginning a thousand times more than a threshold based on hundreds, appropriate to the metric unit of the numeral Myríaz = ten thousand, three times more than the Falangists, one thousand less than the Peltasts and three thousand fewer than the horsemen, total thirty-seven thousand fewer than the fighting forces in Gaugamela out of a total of forty-seven thousand, under the myriads of the Myriaz of Phalangists undermined by their Xiphos in the area of the right calcaneus of each faithful man under his command before facing the Achaemenides. During this period, Vernarth took extreme steps to rescue them and stop the numbing effect of all organic matter, not being able to rescue them, only granting them in the image of each one when they began to turn stone from feet to head until the fragile solidification of their eyes. when for the last time, they looked at each other only making it clear that it was a belated rescue gesture. The omega was ineffable even beyond the omicron, being Omega and Micron in the warfare primer of initiation of its cause within the prophetic in all the necropolis of lowercase omega (ω), towards an Omega that reaffirmed the raised hand in Saint John the Apostle to rewrite the Apocalypse twice, having to be the same but with the voice of Vernarth commanding the ten thousand Phalangists that made up the intergenerational gaps, more than mimicked alien ancestors. In such an effect, as is known, the Duoverse opened the skylights with its sheathed pillars and with the strings of tetrachloride of chlorine in solid angles of Ω in what was Virgo institutionum/Aurion, an entity that interfered by projections and leaks that converged in the strut of the omphalos of his heavenly father dealing in frequency and bloodless of immortality, consisting of an auxiliary being towards the planes of subconscious reprogramming and perspective. With its arms raised in each claw, a sword raised to pierce the vanishing point between the spaces that were ascribed, under the solid projection from an observer that inhibits and limits the biomass in all the aqueous filter pastes and lumens, towards the throne of the angelic guardian of Avant-guard by stereotype and sclerosis of Zeus of dissociated physicality, still being an amorphous entity with magnitudes pulverized between numerosities of Pi and Aureos, fading without area or volume.

Saint Jerome of Estridón: “Vernarth, I come from Bethlehem to help your life because I have detected the subsuming of the chains where your parents made the alliance from where your life has been erected from Sudpichi, Transversal Valleys in the temple that bears my pseudonym. The only rune that will determine that your parents can remain united, is through the action and direction that has been consecrated to me. No dead language will unsay what a dead soul cannot interpret. Our Mashiaj has entrusted me to free the languages that have conspired at night, and low luminance where Calígine has been uncomfortable seeing me knowing that it is my favorite environment, the memory of the chains want to incarnate in the stones that surround your parents, but  they are typical of a response that I will get to conclude by urging your mother and father to recognize that here they made the alliances, ordering, and reconciliation of your world that concerns us all in endless dictates to be agreed, I know very well that the point has not of allowing your atonement to have been prevented by this cosmological affront, here are the transverse Valleys in the favorite place of the Spirits lie the treaties that will move my greatest interest to re-marry your parents from the true chains of the complacent scholar, thus all the vastness that afflicts you will belong to your servant Jerome”

Vernarth replies: “At your service, his majesty, here I have been since dawn arriving at the town to meet them when they contracted their marriage. I know I shouldn't be here, rather I know that decades of inquiry had planned it that way. Of such conviction that their chains were anointed from the heights of the Kanthillana whose partiality emits the partials close to your direction? As is known, my very extensive walk through these dusty paths must recognize that the personality and nobility of its burial mounds will strengthen my presence so that everything that is incomprehensible if it is brief by making it neighbor to my reason”

Saint Jerome of Estridón: “everything has been planned like this, and as time drags on I know that your wounds burn in my epistolary like Latin and Greek voices that reluctantly direct me to your aid. Everything is beautifully comparable, and first to what should not be said..., but to do to the genre that above all it practices, the second to one of the ways with the above all that it practices "
By the reverse of the expletive to the insurmountable destiny, Vernarth takes his hands and Saint Jerome withdraws them telling him that it was not time for greater vain for the equivalence of minor desires to please him if he had not appeared before him. It shows him to celebrate him and to want to make of him the permutation of his golden polysemy or interpretation of the world's Apokálypsis by not changing his axis of change, by redirecting them to stated comfort interests. Namely; the leaders of the world in their world of annulled freedom of will to practice following as they please when interpreting the Apokálypsis only as a revelation, and not as a destiny that exalts the senses and compensation that will reconquer the consistency of the nature of the Apokálypsis that adheres to humanity as golden that will consolidate humanity fearful of its own ******* and excess of greed, just as it was just a few steps before entering the Temple of San Jerónimo in Alhué hand in hand with Vernarth already fully healed of his Lynothorax pectoral. They go to the ambo and Saint Jerome essentially takes out of his pockets chaff that was from the escape of the mass of stone that had not yet finally hardened, allowing them to generate a mystical sermon so that their parents return to the nave of the temple in person to surpass farther from the spring of awakening of the Kantillana requesting the unification of the ashes of his father Bernardolipo and Vernarth, to rescue his mother from a poor abundance, and is transposed by the metaphor of the life-giving spirit. Immediately afterward, Saint Jerome pours the chaff of his parents all over the surface, a great noise is produced, the doors and windows of the temple are suddenly closed, and his parents can be seen walking along the central row of the nave, where fiction could testify that everything was a fantasy, rather a great testament that would exhibit the union of two juxtaposed flanks prior to an invaluable crossing of smiles and flowers that fell from the upper altar on their crowns, they came holding their arms like open borders with the procedure before the harsh reality of a metaphor made real in the future of two beloved shepherds who crossed the limbo of their fingers, with the ferrule or the act of engendering rings of family procreation. The crosses of Lisbon and Saint Jerome resembled the monograph in beats of her wealthy feet that were consistent with the nubile gesture of her lips and then released with all frenzy towards the meeting of her beloved Vernarth, the three of them dancing together on the central pinnacle of the obese light that sheltered them, meaning from the testamentary Hebrew the Aleph on the way to Sudpichi after the Raphaca “Healing” ceremony until the diastole that adheres between the middle of the gap that was produced when the three confronted each other and the word “Heth” again He was bent over to take them like gigantic camels to meet his relatives and ghosts that surrounded him when observing the heights of Kanthillana at the assent of all this.

Because of all this similarity, the tribulation from Patmos was raging with very strong resistance, leaving totally clear of the conditionals of the flint or flint, which enveloped the parents, began to fade from their bodies while it was recomposed of seven elemental forms in relation to the transcription and identification of the three as a family trunk enormously of its exegetical possibilities. Tangent to the transcription, and if it is the case identification of the names that we stick to reunion and redemption of their parents, like all anthropology that was chained to the figures and characters that cordoned off the top of the temple when the three met they hugged and held hands as a sign of illustrative demonstrations of never surpassing oneself. Beginning with the compensations in the fullness of the tables, and completion of all the facts that showed that nothing of language escapes what an eye can observe; that is to say, as long as there is a speaking light, it will always be necessary to listen and then observe in the presentation of the mechanics by the lines that expressed the figures, which were increasing the number of letters that were possible to decipher; called stichometry or measurement of the lines in the texts that Saint Jerome that they were ordering to order a vade mecum or memorandum of this unbridled situation, which in any case had to simplify it whenever it is indicated for the reading of three beings that would meet in what literal of four spirits articulated in the continuum, in such a way that Vernarth added his bilocation to this symmetrical experience to meet again with the Mashiach who awaits him on the third step before entering the Iridescent Nimbus.

His parents will be the co-princes gathered on the Supichi road bound for the Horcondising, where Vernarth all Austral Winter Solstices will come to ask his parents for an audience in the Kanthillana Heights where they will summarize the exact day, that everything happened from a Thursday to a Sunday in the first hour of the most certain Saturday in which the twelve unnatural candles will be incorporated into the Duoverse from the branch of the Raedus Codex, specifically from the Antiphon that accompanies them to the compromised one, and sinuous height that was misted by the mist of snow, and vehemence that was perceived in the greatest regulars of Spílaiaus, having a ring of lights as if such were a gesture of Jerome and everything that was named in the concordance that could be confusion that slipped from the metaphysics of new space by beginning. From such a root emerges the Eta or value number and Vernarth symbolized as  N times from "8" to the entire value of the figure of 800 "w" or Omega, which will be the values of figures and numbers to predispose the alternation of the visits that will take place. to have with his precursors each Solstice, after alternating with the Elves of Archimedes, and to cross with them the manifestations that made him lighter than air, as could be expected before the imposition of everything that he imagined to sleep to the badly gestated world that had been altered, even with a remote Faith that symbolized the decisions of Saint John the Apostle by disposing of the salvages of the vestiges that had been destroyed in the physiognomy of a cause that proved more eloquent than a mere revelation that was never believed which would awaken from its very Semitic superlative. In this case, the allegory surpassed the prototype of all curly visual language that emanated from Vernarth's decision for the humanity that needed him, on the one hand, Saint Jerome already resolved, and Saint John the Apostle in the division of two events of the same story that It was melting into the complexity that would be unspeakable for two Saints in the middle of Vernarth, demonstrating that he had taken them with all the power of the force that is capable of pulling and manipulating until arriving at the darkness of the senses where all understanding and reasoning fall asleep. only allowing the silence to take them in the ellipsis recently emanated by the Nothofagus that were walking on the flaccid snow, the three went with graces of faith and satisfaction, Saint Jerome escorted them with everything healthy that made the incomparable awakening of two latitudes explode who managed to revive in invisibility, after resisting the latent verbigrace of the Apokálypsis that showed that the incomparable topic denoted the ma Greater resistance to everything destructive and Omega with the only subjection that only the verb "Love" does. They reached the icy and stinking gases similar to what Santa Rita de Casia emanated, which at the same time would be dividing breakers like those declared by the Corinthians about the Israelites when they were blinded by the radiance of Moses. The same would happen in the veil of little snow that was left behind his last steps when everything was white as a growing incident that would be attached at once to Patmos and Sudpichi, as well as Kanthillana and Olympo. He says goodbye to his parents and they carry their impulsive agreements to meet on the next Solstice together with Saint Jerome and Spilaiaus on the plateau.
Genesí of  Apokalypsis
amrutha Jul 2014
You have long ago dived into my ocean
And all the treasures you discover, you kindly give it to me.
But did I ever ask you, honey, can you breathe?

"It's not the treasure.
It's the dive.
I love your depth.
Hauntingly beautiful."


The way you cut through my surface
And make your way deep down endlessly,
Has stirred those parts of me
which have long ago fell asleep.

Expressive Silence.

And yes, your implosive silence
Yes, your beautiful grief,
They drug my mind so high
Until I come to you for the heal.
Mateuš Conrad May 2020
.at what point am i not... so ****** angst-prone teen... suppose c. g. jung and... akin to h. p. lovecraft... when there's a keter: ha-shem: ehyeh asher ehyeh... so many "deviation" from the name... new gods... new names... cthulhu and abraxas... jesus ******* ****... + christ all you want... nothing desires a sanctimony of the sacred... nor the death of a chris cornell... unless... it can only be pardoned with "the passing": i.e. death... patient spider... patient stone... patient stab-in-the-back... the solipsistic russian nation of mongrels... to lesser ears: the tipshar of albert alexeyevich razin... udmurt & "udmurt"... jokes... are... currently... reclining... how they would suddenly feel obliged to: scoff-off on a whim... the dead: are sleeping... "concept" of Katyń... no... the dead are besides sleep: they are the tombs what we agitate into life: the best we can... from neither the realm of sleep nor the realm of death: life is our... grace... death: our downfall... there's only mindinf the "creativity" of being left with the in-between...

lay my tired bones and aches into this everyday
shallow grave of sleep:
    i care not for dreams or for other:
unfathomable "questions"...

and when all is done and i have,
no more use for sleep...
lay my tired mind and captured
breath of 21 grams of worth...
into... the sleep of sleep...
        into the architecture of death:

and let neither the obnoxious
insurgence of a dream like heaven
or a dream like pandemonium...
starve me from exercising...
        my... wish to retain obscurity
within the confines of stones, bones...
rust and decay...

lay my bones and aches into
this everyday shallow grave of sleep...
lay my mind and "soul"
into the grand architecture of death...
don't think that you will find
me content with sleep and dreams...
so much so:
content with death and a dream
of dante's geometry of heaven...

   somehow i can cherish the sleep
without the dream...
as i can death...
     should death sentence me to
a fate of Sisyphus: and no demon guardian
with a leash, a hot-rod of agitation
to be my shadow...

who said: the fate of this cheater
of the gods: orpheus the gnostic...
   sisyphus the gnostic...
was to roll the stone... under who's supervision?
tell me again: of that... cat-walk
of evolution...

from the hunched ape to the upright man...
and... the comedy...
back to the hunched spine:
of how an ape borrowed a crow
to ponder... or took a cat and petted it...
in vain hope that:
when sleep would be the spice to escape
the gross mundaneity of recurrent:
similar days...
      a dream...

sisyphus rolled the stone...
sisyphus could just as well... have sat on it...
how one defines eternity:
the grail of vanity...
                        is how one can
master enough: cognitive labyrinths...
to be entertained by a stone...
or "nothing": yes... esp. diese nichts...
and... da(s) nichts...
           the extremes of mediating:
ontology... aeons before the cinema
of saturn... aeons before jupiter...
gloom... and aeons more bound to
neptune...

             the planets: seen: by the naked eye...
no telescope postcards of:
oh yeah... it's there... naked, blunt truth...

as the gnostics might have said...
there are three tiers of truth...

  prosta (simple) - einfach
                           pusta (empty) - leeren
                                          czysta (pure) - rein...
anything outside of simple geometry
of explanation is... the fourth (exempt -
via the thesaurus of antonyms) -
but by the fifth: gradation...
                
truth is beauty... which is devoid of geometry...
no wonder then... that was is most
beautiful... is harangued by... the criticism
and... its self-implosive hypocrisy...
truth is a beauty that...
                    suggests: not everything
good is beautiful... a moral act is not beautiful...
that it is necessary...
one is obliged to find out...

truth as beauty is: simple...
   it is empty... and it is... pure...            

truth is both: good & evil...
          those topics of necessity and...
the... not necessary "additions" come to mind...

it's no longer worth citing truth: per se -
science... facts... a rubric of psychology
in a secular... materialistic world...
a logic behind a soul... body / meat and two veg...
what soul?

truth as a regurgitation of scientific facts
and statistics... a new an old orthodoxy...
perhaps: perhaps not...

          all in all...
             truth: what i can muster to deem vague:
because what's required is not...
nor will it ever be: in vogue...
   a hyphen prefix stressor:
             truth-
                                     and...
   the three adjective suffixes: with the hyphen
included -pure
                        -empty
                                 -simple...

death is a sleep i cannot fathom...
        death is a sleep i cannot fathom...
death is a sleep i cannot fathom...
       if only life was a dream:
that didn't require me, to fathom, it...

"reality": and the so-called "questions"
i.e. reality being... that sort of canvas...
of walking around in...
someone else's... fiction?
at least the rocks the stones have
a somewhat agreed-upon reality of bible:
geology - and no worship: etc.

letover: just... snippets...
but the original theme is given light...
on why it's recurrent...
why did sisyphus toil with the stone:
did zeus give attach to him
a shadow handler with leash
and a fire-riddled poker like the man
was less a man and more:
a work-horse?

couldn't... the myth come up with...
and finally... sisyphus sat on a stone...
curled up his once ***** spine...
took thought before the court of eternity...
and decided: lest i be... "mistaken"...
what happened to gregor samsa
is one coin-flip...
  
   yes... today i was cleaning the shed...
and i was witness to a genus of spider...
when touched by an "invisible" hand / poker...
once... will fli: bellyside up...
curl its anorexic extensions and
play dead...
honest to "god"... spider play dead better than
dogs pretend, to... play... dead...

no... one day... i wasn't faced with
the fate of gregor samsa...
although the mush and the exoskeleton
of thought god soul and:
journalistic nuance of:
the alt. to priests of the 20th century...
carl bernstein / bob woodward /
  paul avery...

once upon a time in the 20th century...
where... journalists could be credited
with status... of... Manichaeans...
when journalistic integrity was:
credo... and... the ditto-heads
were... the apes in a zoological
confinement...      splendid times!
days when... one would... admire...
journalists...
          
   mental health / psychology /
the iron maiden of... finding a simple daft...
expression of... also... made...
coincidental with catching a breath...

          the worst kind of "reality" is
bound to the "future" of the narrative
and esp. off the narrative...
of what... is the sort of people...
that also: deviate from reading a paragraph
of fiction!
"reality" and... -itz...
                          the reality of:
someone else's fiction... a solo project...
from under the iron curtaian...
through to: and including... the silicon veil...
much later:
  but hardly the bed-fellows
coming to terms with the niqab...

      i die: believing that there are...
countless impromptus... serving me...
akin to make replicas of richard the lionheart's:
odes to being: without "stock"...
while john, lackland...
capitulated... for worth of the time: that's ripe...
an affectionate: gyrocentric whoosh!
of a ****-buddy...
and the magna carta was, ahem...
signed...

                     kant... the forever basis of...
the bachelor party:
no stag no hen parties...
the deafening stillness of...
sometimes and "something" in
between...

confines of: pity me for petting cats...
but... he loves me... he loves me not: sunflowers...
i totem a cat... not the petals...
for hope of these grand architectures of dreams:
that people: supposedly acquire...
they even mind telling others that
they have had recurrent dreams!

who are... these people... who have had
recurrent dreams?!
i want to know them!
who are... these people...
who have had recurrent dreams?!

   - moi! ******* son o' german: **** it...
both...               mir!     mich!
the orc: the east... extensions of the mongol
borrowed space by the slav...
hardly... something from...
bothersome south... akin to africa...

stereographs of the modern...
western: "man" is... orcs are not... associated
with... mongols... slavs:
the u.s.s.r.?
they are... allocated a status for...
african migrants from 2015?
on those... inflatable boats?
these... these... are your... orcs?!

           ha ha! pale orc... ching-chang-yin-yang
orc... etc. etc.
            no... never down south...
not when hu-chow and salman ibn
hussein took over kenya
and the the east coast of africa...

i imagine the orc to be meme: toe in toe
with the mongol -
the tartars of crimea...
      pale orc: what?! zee zulu black
panthers: panthers of south h'america?!

hassan i sahba... without exception of
muhmmad... and his name was...
muhammad ibn "abn / abu"...
pray pity: but! there was
a figure of grandfather and uncle:
sometimes the father gets it right...
sometimes...
sometimes the mother gets it right...
but... for fear of ******...
i drink and i tell you...
i'd sooner want
25% of me under my wing...
than 50% of me...

for the love of grandchildren...
god knows what one is to do with children...
send 'em to the crows... and swans?!
i can... love is diluted...
25% of me with the grandchildren...
which implies...
that 50% of me is not relegated
to dispose of with:
a mimic impetus to
"continue"...

                we can be friends at 25%
replica: in its immediacy...
at 50% we're talking: *******...
or on the rare occassion:
it might work: jesus joseph & mary...
according to the zodiac:
jesus was a bull...
joseph was an ares...
mary was a pisces...

           alternatively...
your pick of rat pig and barry...
      yes, of course...
            all formality of a tux-lingo...
dear sir...
sky 'as fallen!
   kind regards...
             better this... than a crossword:
for pedsntry in straitjackets?

new-age ******* of re-learning literacy
because... 2nd act of...
the phantom: all opera shun itself
to the nieche...
masquarade...
                   new learn ways of spell..
new learn ways of recite...
bogus trivial
abracadabra variation of
sudoku...

                    christine was
never a christopher was never: but probably
was a byzantine... cataphracts...
a name for every kind if beloved:
an ogling father in tow...
to mind bori g conservatism...
and all the flamboyancy of lies...
white lies: and hardly...
all the bitter truths...

     all that is mine isn't...
crown and the breeding: what i most likely...
in that: most feel obliged to fear:
the patience and stealth
of spider pin-knuckle rubric...

yes... hello: "today"...
and tomorrow... *******!

random extract:

                 the thuluth:
and the thoth: that became
             the signature of muqlah shirazi...
Infamous one Apr 2013
Get it all out through writing staying sane peace win
Evil thought come out holding them in is a sin
Burn you up inside something you live with not trying to be implosive
Unexpressed emotions could be explosive
A struggle within caused by hypocrites
Be yourself don't let them win they want to play mind game
Give them a piece if mind mind their own business
Not getting a rise or getting hate too late for the comment
Quick to point out stuff already living or going on why is it wrong now all of a sudden
You want to hurt others that you must be bored your power is like an unplugged extension cord
Before there was anything that mattered everything that would ever be existed , it was the essence of totality , it was without dimensional constriction or necessitated form .  Optimistically speaking time had no relative realism to its progression because realistically nothing had happened yet .  As it continued it became according to its innate inflections as a functionally integrable form .  The questionably understandable nature of its conjunction was an omnipotent directive beyond necessitated action or morphological construction .  The enigmatic consciousness of its relatively interrelated conception was spontaneous and yet it continued without elemental omniscience .

As the relative complexity of its interrelations evolved dimensional consistence was born.  Humanly understandable laws of physical integration governed many facets of its conjunction yet the totality of its ramification was beyond humanly realistic conjecture .  

The organic morphology of biological ontogeny was a conceptually reflective derivative of functional physical mechanics yet its diversity exceeded its physical complexity , understanding evolved .  Relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity succeeded in a hierarchy of functionally integrable forms .

Retrospectively speaking pragmatic practicality is a humanly rational possibility .  Rational logic can conceive of individually totalitarian structural forms , yet the implosive nature of their rational cohesiveness becomes a practical partiality due to the diversity of their definitive impetus .

Perhaps the essence of our being is the logical counterpart for the matrix of our subjectively conclusive social fragmentation , or perhaps we are evolutionally incapable of cumulatively rational correlation.  Problematic diversity could be perfectible on an individually infinite level or contrarily perhaps ubiquitous causality is the ultimate survivor .  

In any case it is beyond our subjugatively rational cohesive coercion to intercede en masse on our own behalf as an integrated unit. Our conceptual abilities have been thwarted by the unmitigatably individual nature of our extraneous conclusiveness .
Re-post
Ken Pepiton Sep 2019
twice read, I find
my points have mostly
been made in plain geometry, were I to see

from an imaginary Euclidean POV

pre algebra and zeros and pi, as fa's I know,

Euclid makes a point.  ping
do re me, too.

We need some assumptions. True.

Words, Logos per se, re
main the principle tool used right
by both wisdom and knowledge and, now,
under knowledge stand two parts

see likka bubble, zygotic go, knowledge all good

big ol' bubble, knowledge of good and evil,

both, and you know both's a real big
old idea to think at once,

gotta have a push and a pull,
a listing and a lusting,
a compulsion to explode
versa verses reverberating assumptive
implosive con ex in clusives ping 3
do re me
sounds of music all disneyfied hills alive
from the POV of a flea
in the bark of my favorite pine, aw a
crow
dream
alla this,
how sweet is that, you guys don't know what that might
feel like, unless,
you know: in my realm,
right try angles reflect light in odd spectra
bounced from assumptive edges of unknowns.

Euclid, yeah, he failed to know everything anybody learned since he died,
we all know more than he ever did,
though
his timeless thoughts
remain. ..
as mine to twist into art-intuitive
artificial intelligence.
-----
Stop inter, ah, this fits here (no where else, per haps):
an e-ruptive Voltarian pledge of troth from an old bet lost.
Spelchek can't tame the pen, truth emerges
twixt i and e, subtly.
See,
intell still makes sense con egence on the end
and has aright to slide meaningfully
past spelchek and
evil Grammerly Aiing me.
See, both religating and relegating, merge and link.

Right, we assume
we prove flat Euclidean right exists. Okeh.

Here is the handln, wir machen schnell zwei

ping ping points ping
there was there three,
we did not see one, firstime, missed a point,

now, we may see beyond the first assumptive, abruptive,
inter
rupture rapture at/to that lacred nacred sphere.

A pretty pearly gate. Eggish in shape.

This, I imagined was the proverbial NAND/NULL gate,
an old door into superbloom summer
manifested to capture your
attention please, breathe
the beauty,
sneeze,
let it be.
Please, your self has private interpretations,
so it ain't prophecy.
No prophecy from Jehovah and them other names
the supreme being goes by
in woke reality
with quarks in it--  
no
secret intended to hide truth
(secret is same as private here, no private
interpretations) from those who can't see times changed.

---logos logic force, forces chaos into a bubble boing being
--- a peer pressure surge urge dopamine don't fail me now
--- devise a device depicting the mergence,
--- a logo for reality, in a word.
--- one artist made a circle, another formed a square

so many
interruptions, if you could only know,
you could be live, Euclid,

scary thought? no. a hope. an arrogant philosopher's hope
carved in stone

In the beginning == you know, right, everything must mean some
thing or nothing remains to measure worth,
as knowns unknowable for the effort
that you don't make
--- like Tristram Shandy, the marbled page, we few ever knew,
--- first gentle, re-cog-nize justify, ify ify yourself

Wisdom-******* children,
magnificent in countenance, as winners
of the won war fought before the peace.

--- easy treated, like "no sweat" a
--- Jeopardy version of Leela, the big show. You still die. it ain't scary.

resume the assumpting pressures
peer 'em up
umph, try

delta delta delta force chuck-nors negate  negate

dive dive dive

We must be read
y
we got us a bubble of being, in real life poetry.
Tha's deeply memeingful.
Here abouts. A bit o'breathin' room in the long dance.

But Euclid pointed out what I see from my old couch on the porch
on the westside of a piece of land
that pro-truded
from prime-eve, a fractal level a billion lacred layers
time-wise, geo-time-wise ago
yond hither, whence we was words a playin'

silly songs children read and sing along then seem to forget until

some go mad in our dotage and become as little children, once more but

we know now how to learn anything we wish to know.

This could be heaven,
according to the description I was given when escape from hell
was my selfish desire.
Self formed from scraps I over heard as a young'n.

A point remains to appear made in the assumption.

Ah, hey, right tringled triangles.

sit witme, see star one, assume natural numbers a re-able
one two 3
iii --- signals scramble-ble
see we have two brains

two whole brains with minds and minds and minds of their own

and you love simplicity.

Did you ever have to make up your mind?
Pick up on one and leave the other won in a spoonful o'luv

look from my eye to that star,
consider this, Euclid winks, too. One aim alone is right,

thus there is the edge of the sphere of my visual known universe,
the bubble of my being.

Eat me raw or don't eat me at all. said the bull headed god somebody
influential in reality
killed

A bullheaded being, a rampaging ****** slain by some named being
a hero, not me or you…
though new legends lien in wait, eh?

ah, time shift assumption, Euclid POV, nonessential,

flatness is a fractical impossible unthingable thing, plainly stated

imaginable, non-re-alizable.

Spread as spilled milk never cried over, take heart, hoped for
evers come to be
noticed as they pass, plenty people pass
these days,

endurin' to the end is all it takes.
Euclid don't matter and Jesus done cared.
Ah, suffer it to be so now, what difference can one... letter let be loose in a word rattle as a long wind winds its own way to an unmakable point.
Erin M Petersen May 2012
I am nothing
an empty shell
a hollow carcass of brittle bones and rotting teeth

She is beautiful
bright patterns and rain boots
Her smile is true
and she love the world she lives in

He is a rebel
Never still and never truthful
He loves running across the street just as a car comes
it gives him such a high

She is quiet
timid
a book worm
She spends her time in dimly lit corners in rundown bookstores
hiding away from the world

She is implosive and violent
loves to fight
swear
Her emotions are stronger than the rest
taking her over in a matter of seconds

They are all me
but I am none of them
and I haven't seen them in many years
though I hear from them everyday
Their voices haunt me
echoing
screaming
their hands touch me in the dark
clawing to be freed
for they are why I am empty
they fill me and push away the person I truly long to be
The person that I need to be
in order to stay alive
outer, inner what are realities

conscious, unconscious

differing thought that gives

tangible form to such as that

which has only existed in my imagination

when voiced indicate the delirium

of those dark despairs

that hang pitch black draperies upon the wall of my mind

in continuous distortion of ordinary motives

amplify my feelings, implosive and apocalyptic

forming an agonized arena of anguish

whose illusion is a disguise of perplexities

in a deployment of destrubing exchanges

of dubious sense that sit like a petulance

upon the mind

while I in patience stand smiling at my grief
My silent tears
my depressions
my implosive dreams

I'm leaving behind with you.

My love is all drained
to start anew!

My trust
my faith
relics of love

I'm leaving behind on your door.

My love is too dug out
to start any more!

love is too dug out
love is too drained
heart is too empty
to start once again!


My caring eyes
pairing hopes
lost sunrise

I'm leaving behind with you.

My love is all spent
to start anew!

*love is too spent
stuck in moments
sunk in lament
to start once again!
Mateuš Conrad Dec 2021
chopper: chop-off-chew; a 502 bad gateway bypass cheat code...

i know what i'll spend my money earned on, in what priority, i'll spend them on a brothel, i'll spend them on a *******: after all... she will spend that earned money on trivial matters, she will buy a pair of shoes: i'll buy a pair of shoes when the ones i'm wearing will become worn... i hope i can write this without an inkling toward spite... i'm happy to be childless, i'm happy to not be married... how best to decipher my feeling, at present... FAUN... WAINAMOINEN... i will not trust the leftist cosmopolitan brigade to break up this... resurgence of a folkish spirit among the Hyperboreans... making a resurgence in song, in wording... covert... under the radar... seemingly sleeping... even Heidegger mentions this... of the people is very much distinct to: of the folk... people inhabit cities and the make-shift constructs of nations... the folk? they inhabit the land! why should an African feel welcome among the winters and the crows... when i... giggle like a child... foreign among the lost seasons at the equator with the macaque monkeys?! these people are not here to belong... they know it themselves... however many safety-nets are placed for our liberal liking & their comfort... they are unnaturally "here"... our own worst enemies... white "liberal elites"... one cocktail after a second... after... no more water to churn out alcohol... these people have come for a reason... i don't know what the reason is... better living is hardly requesting more complications from technology... when life can be simplified from the closest of the most close connections... hier: hoch norden?! alle er tabt! tysk er æsten dansk...
deutsch ist fast dänisch! we might have fought wars among each other... but at least we belonged, together, even i... liberal as i were, for so long... it's not like i can't be... leaving a route for allowance for other cultures, other races... but... i'm... becoming more... detached from reality... detached from purpose... from the geography... from the forest... language is my last defence... these people shouldn't be here because they shouldn't be here: they shouldn't be here because... there's no need for me to be among their culture! their people! if i don't need to be somewhere, why should someone "think" it necessary to be among "my", people? mongrel ******* mongrel gives us this... ****** culture! hardly any tourism... i can be a tourist in Africa... would i want to live in Africa? no! so... why the ****... thank you Russia... WE, HAVE, NO, SHARED, STORIES... JUST... THESE... SOCIAL-JUSTICE ARGUMENTATIVE POINTS... EVERYTHING IS POLITICAL: HARDLY NARRATIVE... SUFFERING FROM MEMORY EROSION... IN THE IMMEDIACY OF JOURNALISTIC *******... i bemoan this sudden quest of man: because... i believe in its failure... a failure most gross... my heart prays for this ****** experiment to fail! fail it must! scheitern es muss! svigte det skal! lethargy kicks in... being too pleasing... too pleasant... my mind retorts: almost automatically... i'm QUITS! why? looking at children... i don't want them to suffer this mental diarrhoea in future years... i want them to look at faces most familiar... i'm SLEPT... i'm QUITS... ******* SAVVY?!


i've been a hermit for so long,
shunning human contact with only minor
outbursts of contact with strangers,
old men on park benches
talking about their grandchildren
and sons-in-law,
Rayleigh bicycles, seasonal diets
(not buying watery strawberries from
Spain in the winter months,
eating more vegetables - in general -
binging on local, seasonal fruit
from local farms),
prostitutes in the brothel, talking...
*******...
but always in concentrated outbursts
of interaction...
someone in London around Whitechapel
stopping me while he implored me
to fix his breaks...
hands up... listen: if i had some tools...
i'd try...
this spurned me on to now ride around
with some tools... i only need about three...
obviously i'm not going to take a *******
pump with me too... there's a reasonable
point of what i am willing to do for strangers...
so i gave him some advice...
it's the back break, that's faulty?
remember... take longer to break...
since the front break is only working you
might go forward by breaking too heavily...
and if you're going to break heavily...
stand up on your breaks...
and leverage yourself on the handlebars...
put extra pressure on them: top down...
homeless men...
once i ******* this woman for sitting
down on the pavement with this homeless man
i knew who migrated from Romford
to Seven Kings...
gave him a cigarette and laughed a while...
with some fwends... some autistic guy from
school who... got into drinking...
blah blah...
     so she starts attacking me with...
YOU! YOU! i just waved my hand and told her:
i'm not going to argue with you...
i suppose she was implying i was supposed
to be talking up women...
i was there for a Guinness...
later that same night i went to the brothel
for some love... or as i like to call it:
cuddle & giggles...
- that one time this crazy Rastafarian started
talking to me about the Hebrew deity
deformity (in his Rastafarian way)
we started talking from Romford
he dragged me to... Hackney... of all places
to distribute pamphlets to black Baptist churches
i had a "date" with a few fwends to watch
some boxing on t.v.,
- i won't even mention that one black guy
who took me on a carousel of his crack *******
addiction... that was a long time ago...
the two of us were strapped to the insides of
a phone-box while he took up a crack-*******
glass doo-di (what would you call it?
a glass smoking pipe?)
******* madman... that's also at the same time
i was having my first psychotic breakdown
from... smoking marijuana and fasting...
and walking around London...
so many more isolated instances of "dealing"...
interacting with... people...
now this... from my period of isolation...
social hibernation... where i threw myself at writing
so heavily hearted...
graveyards, forests... at night...
there was this one funny instance...
a car parked in Bower Wood...
took a while to take a **** on the grass...
owl... check... fox... check... rabbits... check...
deer... check... something cracked some
branches while i sat on a log bare-chested...
i actually opened my mouth and uttered
the words: that's not a human... is it, are you?!
walking almost blind screaming at the top
of my voice, growling... snarling...
through havering county park... climbing past
a barbwire fence to get up close to
the horses grazing in the field...
in the dark putting my hand against a horse's mouth...
i can forgive the horse...
it thought i might have something in my hand...
like a sugar cube or an apple to nibble on...
it started nibbling on my fingers...
bucktooth ****** turned around and his hoof
almost skimmed my forehead...
i still wonder what it might feel like
to be kicked in the head by a horse's hind legs...
i tried it once... punched myself several times
in the face until i gave myself a black eye...
i still have marks on my knuckles from the time
i took pleasure from putting out
cigarettes on them...
i guess i don't dream much...
i need to be closest to reality through...
the only best available a medium that most
resonates: pain...
- or perhaps a quote from Pablo Coelho...
the alchemist...
as a teenager i was planning on travelling to India...
India came to London,
****'s sake... the whole world came to London!
why would i leave (Greater) London?
if i were to travel across the Thames...
i'd be in a completely different country...
i once cycled from Romford to Greenwich...
already the difference were visible...
the north is like... what's the right comparison?
BUDA...
the south of London? PESHT...
less underground, more trains...
trams of Croydon, for ****'s sake: i thought that
trams were a Berlin / Warsaw "thing"...
if i wanted to: i'd ******* to Edinburgh and...
find the old place i was staying at
in my third year... Montague St.
just off Nicholson St.,
i'd go back to the mosque near Appleton Tower
for a curry... i'd perhaps do some bouldering
on the Crags... if i were to find my mountain
climbing shoes...
i am still, yet, to eat a deep-fried Mars bar...
or a deep-fried pizza...
like **** i am ever going to...
just today i ate a revelation...
usually... smoked salmon... well... obviously
on a bagel... with some fresh cucumber and dill
with a decent dollop of mayo...
today?
soft white cheese... the smoked salmon
& some lemon juice...
wow...
- finding work outside the family business...
i.e. not working with my father has become...
refreshing...
he... he could "abuse" me verbally as best he could...
you're doing this wrong, you're doing
that wrong... strangers? no chance...
but this own son: he treated the harshest...
i said to myself: **** it... i'm not putting up with
this sort of UBERSCHEISSE!
i haven't worked in... has it been a decade?
"worked" worked... i wrote... investing in
people not yet born!
the people, my contemporaries: sure, i care...
but... i'm not writing a Dan Brown novel:
am i? i'm looking for... longevity...
i'm looking for immortality...
to hell with not being paid...
to hell with spending money in ways that makes
you regret it: you will never find yourself
earning money: but you will regret... spending it
in ways that deviate from a "pattern" of
well-kept endeavours...
i don't mind spending anything on my bicycle...
why? cycling is my last outlet
of... aloneness "tourism"... to hell with going
on a cruise... i take up cycling to...
Thurrock... or deeper into Essex...
hell... i'll cycle into central London...
ah... sigh of relief... i'm alone...
i like dodging traffic... i like the added thrill of large
objects that might **** me...
but at the same time i adore the abundant emptiness
of the countryside...
well... it's not: "empty"... but writing makes it out
as it is... no ******* Wordsworth's worth
of ode to nature here...
perhaps some... die grenzwacht hielt im osten...
folk songs in, esp. in die deutschezunge...
- i think i know why, why i find this language
so endearing... it's all about the infiltration process...
i could... wholeheartedly... abandon it...
with even having to wear shoes...
i feel so much for it: yet at the same time...
if i were recalled to the mutterzungen needs...
i think i might... how i can hold twin-allegiances
i will never know...

uns ander'n brach die kraft...
und heute noch und immer
    den weg nach osten zeigt...

so far away from people... yet so close...
to put into writing...
i would have loved joining the army...
chemical engineer? ZYKLON B...
rings a bell...
now... reengaging with people...
on a minor scale of what an army cohort
looks like...
i still feel ****** getting a chemistry
degree: not leaving school at 15 and joining the army...
then again... i really don't know what
i'd do with too much money:
you can always have too much money:
even if you earn... £15,000 a year...
i remember my student years back
in 2004 circa 2007 (circa, ergo, no hyphen +/-1
a year in the "bracket")
beside the student fee...
£3000 could easily cover the rent,
the food... the odd spontaneous going to
the cinema... the gym fee...
well, fair enough... as students... we weren't paying
council tax... but £3000 could cover a lot of things...
if we're talking earning... £15000...
and you take a Paulo Coelho approach
akin to: there's nothing to ******* find when
you get to the Giza pyramids... when you *******
to Brazil... you seen the world doesn't actually mean:
a local crack-head took you on
one of his ******* shimmy run...

i don't belong no more in Kenya than
a Kenyan belongs among the Hyperboreans...
sure... if he feels suicidal...
and abhors his people so much...
but look where Brexit left us...
all the Polacks suddenly didn't feel welcome...
not part of the multicultural project
of the implosive Empire as they might have
felt...
what English soldier ever fought
on the lands of Poland during the second world
war... yet... how many ****** pilots
fought for Britain?!
huh?! huh?!
history implies: people keep on forgetting...
the labour of love for us that love
to remember... like...
the world offers us rubrics borrowed from
school...
i don't mind an African trying to live
in Europe... but **** me:
you won't find me living in Africa
any time soon!
sure... the macaques are cute...
to hell with the heat!
no time soon!
i, need, seasons!
i need, eating, bland!
what, rosemary & rhyme not good enough,
for you, ******?!

smoked salmon managed to bench press
my liking for raw herring...
miss the raw cucumber, the dill, the mayo...
add some soft white cheese...
some lemon juice... keep the bagel...
now we have ourselves a sport!

the Polacks have left the shores...
hello tourists... your anti-racist rhetoric has
paid off!
i'm hardly native...
weren't your own natives...
your own fathers supposed
to bemoan the fate of your own daughters?!
you don't...
and... i'm... somehow... supposed to?
i'm much more invested in the men...
i need... rigidity... structure...
women always tend to **** it up: anyways...
some... amnesia principle...

FAUN:  WAINAMOINEN...
unplugged... "v"...
  NIRVANA's unplugged sessions...
choke... shotgun shot to the head..
Christine Chubbuck vs. the Court of Courting Blind...
rich Russian girls taking  picture of the pitch...
i'm standing in the middle...
i guess there's also me involved...

- from my hermit phase... being engaged with so many
people... esp. the children... oh god... i love the children...
for someone who enjoyed their absence from
society...
to be so, greedily... reengaged.... like a snap....
almost weird...
but... almost like: I: WANT: IT!
sure... i'm but a pawn in this role...
but... here's my excuse... i'm also anders-wo...
here's my antithesis of da-sein...
anders-wo...          am-ich?!

tid: til begynde! ja: nu! kvik!
tabt en time
tabt løs "næsten" alt...

         fanden du:                     ord så blød

KURWA MAĆ!
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2017
in terms of talking?
                       rhetoric.
   in terms of couting?
arithmetic.
  ergo?
        rhetoric = arithmetic;
i.e. the unconscious
     "counting"
   of words...
             or let's just assume
that someone is
not so much persuading
you to prompt talking,
but that the talking
   is prompt immune
       and that you
simply talk for the sake
of talking, in that implosive
guise of per se;
since the letters reach
only to the status of
the 26 all-encompassing,
you never really bother
keeping an arithmetic count
on the number of words
used...
     nonetheless,
       beyond arithmetic,
in terms of using words,
therefore beyond rhetoric,
you enter the realm
of "dialectics", i.e. diacritic
   application.
Connor Reid Mar 2014
Clothe your eyes, let go and wear out the surprise
Disassemble the moments, rebuild them in the sky
Colorado here we are, sepia tone worn out and grown
If the photos cant recollect then we’ll have to leave home

Apertures, trinkets and a head full of negatives
Implosive situations merit a need to out rule the decadence
Ticket to my incentive is, fed up with emptiness
Focus on delicate accomplishments thawed out in low Celsius

If I ask to let go and release the tightness of my grip
You can answer the question that dangles from your lips
Objective in this level of murmured hearts plus words
Subtract the start first because times are better for worse

Etched cryptic on a headstone Rosetta to my incentive
The etymology of a descendant given in to another deaf dead
Descent circumvented in every other reason to basically invent
Every other gift on the list if you live differed, the ever
With deliver the clever last or never limp wrist
Heaven ****** and you no longer exist

Suns set and sunsets gloom over mountains and hills
Moonlight cuts through your clothes leaving you naked…still
If you’ve formed an opinion then its very hard to change
Like the weather and the rain, you can precipitate and be gone the next day

Just when you thought you had known all and well
The image blurs and distinguishing features become too hard to tell
Shadow of a former self mimics value and opacity
Crying under bunk-beds alone then laughing to yourself happily

We stare outside, frames per second slow down
25 to 3 and the flowers breath then tell me to go out
Just go now, don't come back, let me be me
If I change now then we’ll all be swept under the sea

Envisage the image then let the residual dissolve
A wooden box, small, brown, precarious, ready to fall
Duct tape, letters and photo spill onto the floor
It showed when we watched the day go by in the summer dress that she wore
2012
EmperorOfMine Mar 2019
Into the jungle
Out of the fire
Running in dungeons
No wonder I'm tired
Lacking a motive
Is breathing a value
My gloom's implosive
A contagious vacuum.
Is that a chest
Should I give it stress
I just want to rest
But looting is best
Now I've gotten out
And I even shout
Abruptly, I doubt
When was this a route?
A dream in a dream
Nothing's what it seems
I've fallen in a line
A circle, I mean
Maybe I've been trapped,
No, forward or back
Forever in time
I can't find the cracks
I guess it's the end
I'm lost in the wind
Well, isn't this sad
Guess I'll try again.
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2022
502 bad gateway bypass:

Ahab bin Haroon:
the lost Arab slave-merchant
who also traded in spices
and silk on the sly...

i'm sure there is more terrible music out there... sometimes
the you-tube algorithm is generous, weirdly a.i.:
it spits out: at random some generosity...
this time round? some band from Sweden,
i'm hugely into Swedish music,
for me the Swedes are currently: what the British were
back in the 60s and 70s and 80s of the previous
century... well excluding Abba:
personally? Abba is more innovative for me demanding
the proper understanding of POP than the Beatles
will ever be... for me it's all about Abba... odd...
only yesterday i remembered this song
by Cradle of Filth: her ghost in the fog...
oh the stuff i sieve through... the last time i was this excited
about discovering a band / artist it was...
****... there's a list:
Distance (when dub-step was a genuine genre)
   :wumpscut...
Die Krupps...
    Tool... but that's donkey's years ago... i have
the donkey's ears concerning that adventure...
King Crimson...
  Ghost... another favorite feature from Sweden...
Wooden Shjips... Demdike Stare...
this is closest to Die Krupps... this new band
the algorithm spit out... Priest...
two guys wearing those black plague masks
later detailed in the Venice carnival...
those Charles de Lorme black raven masks
and one guy singing in... a gimp masks with studs...
nice... i'm getting ***** just listening to
all this dark-wave electronica...
it's the sort of music you listen to to get in the mood
to visit a brothel and sleep with a *******...
i mean, this one song is outstanding...
      PHANTOM PAIN (again, priest)...
     fair enough... maybe this band: the KLINIK from
Belgium that were around in the 80s... are up there..
of course i'm a musical snob sometimes...
you have to be a snob sometimes: esp. when it comes
to music...
am i going to be a Bukowski and say that all modern
music is **** because i'm some classical music buff?
no really... but i like listening to music that allows
me to think about the contortions of the body during
***... and: luckily for me... i've found another artist
that just opened the floodgates to do just that...
if anyone Prokofiev... well: basically all the Russian composers...
i don't mind the Germanic composers...
but i prefer German medieval music: Teutonic chants...
those guys would sing and play...
before Bach's reorganisation into polyphony...

hmm... brothels... the pockets of Jerusalem any man
might wish for... no, i became truly angry watching
the Game of Thrones... you what? some dwarf is going to
have all that sensual fun... in the mind of that grub
of a writer? and i'm going to fall prey to celibacy?
a dwarf is going to have all that fun?
o.k. Darwinism is a lie:
the strongest don't reproduce...
Christianity and Darwinism are not compatible...
who, really, reproduces? the weak and the idiots...
that's what i love about reality:
it's objective... you just have to slip in your subjectivity
into it once in a while: **** a **** of
someone suffering from prostate cancer
into the snow and then sing like Frank Zappa sang:
don't you be eating the yellow snow...
i knew one had to be false: either Darwinism or
Christianity... when i was confronted with
the maxim: turn the other cheek i recoiled with
much anger... what?! i was a child back then...
i think i'm still a child right now...
but i just couldn't stomach that "truth"...
you what?! i can't hit back? i'm supposed to be a
punching-bag?
that's a bit ****, isn't it?

oh but at the brothel... last time i walked up those
frightful stairs and paid the £10 due for entry
asking how many girls were available...
the Madame... receptionist said that two were
available...
i saw one... sitting down... then the Madame sat down:
and she repeated herself: two are available...
i'm in luck... and my god... she does look the part
of a leather chair... her body looks like it could be
stretched to all unimagined possibilities...
that mole on her face adds to her allure...
hmm... next time... when's my next time?
ah... ****... on the 30th... a shift up at Craven Cottage...

that's what i realised when i was thirsty today...
i started jerking off to pictures of Turkish girls...
Romanian girls...
Hispanic milfs... i'm so ******* turned off by
loud-mouth western *****... probably blonde...
i'm turned off like...
you might throw a stone into a lake:
i'm sinking to new depths...
i need the olive skin the raven hair...
the supposed highest prize of a blonde white girl?
n'ah... n'ah ah... that's not happening...
like to like... now i truly am turning the other
cheek... of my ***!
i'm simply not interested...
give me a Mongolian girl... a Siberian Russian
lass! something juicy... something plump...
i'll take that... i'd not fidgety... i'm not bothered...
just something to squeeze...
a plump plum of a woman of Romanian stock
is worth my eyes i'd have to waste
on otherwise stuck-up English nuns!

oh, but this Madame really broke the camel's back...
i thought camels had humps:
rather than humps... i'm going to **** her next...

i fell in love with literature a few times in my life...
i can't remember the first time, proper...
but the first time: not proper was on the 86 bus riding
to school reading Stendhal's the Scarlet and Black...
i watched the t.v. mini-series first:
then read the book... i fell in love with the book...
French... though... i could never learn it:
too many surds... written one way:
but spoken another... i love how naturalization works...
you pick up local prejudices...
i've picked up the local prejudices of a
hatred for anything French that can't be eaten...
but i also picked up a German-philia...
i love the German tongue... it's the elder of
the dynamic that exists between the shared
constitution that's allocated to the English-German
schematic!
but the French?! as a tongue?!
write one thing: speak another... i *******, hate it!
no wonder i didn't learn it in school:
i should have been taught the elder Germanic tongue
of the cousin of English!

the other time i fell in love with literature
i was in St. Petersburg dating a Russian: well... a a Siberian
girl... she introduced me to Bulgakov...
i knew some Russian literacy prior...
but this novel avoided me...
now? i'm living in a currency of a hallucination...
Behemoth? that black cat in the novel?
he's not black... he's ginger...
ginger looks better when staged against the green of grass...
Behemoth is Quarus...
and he's not fond of either ***** or chess...
i'm fond of whiskey and su doku...
he's...he's fond of sleeping and pretending to count...
and... mind you: if he were given a name
from the book of Milton: it wouldn't be Behemoth...
it would be Belial...
plus Behemoth was black... Quorus is ginger...
and ginger looks so much better against
the backdrop of the green grass...

i ******* abhor these people that are dog-lovers...
these... leash-handlers...
what's your bother with cats?!
cats can be ignored... yet they still manage to come back
and implore you to give them attention...
dogs...leashes... muzzles if they are of a certain breed...
stories of children being mauled by dogs...
**** me: men and their ****-takes of companions in
the form of dogs! why do i prefer cats?!
guess i'm a believer in the gods of ancient Egypt...
Set... Anubis...
darkness draws me to throw the arguments required...
the fox and the wolf...
i can't stand smart: implosive, modern...
cosmopolitan sensuality!
it's riddles with a fake woman!
all i see is a fake woman on a fakeness of possessing
a womb... sitting with a crown of timber
on a throne of sand!

well... i could have asked for a better afternoon...
but you rarely can... ask...
if you're drinking and there's this couple of woodland
pigeons perched in your Eucalyptus tree at the end of
your garden...

Woodland Pigeon Nest Building....
it's a note i took...
rarely.. no.. clearly impossible to witness
crows mating... or the cackling magpies
for that same reason... but pigeon?
i know that the woodland folk are larger... cleaner...
but they still heave the same ontology
as their cosmopolitan cousins...
how many male pigeons i saw rejected
by theiir female counterparts?
too many: i saw too many pretend to fly
into a tornado when a female rejected them:
they lost about 100 points of an IQ scoring
when female rejected them:
they hafe that glass-look in their eyes
akin to: what the **** just happened?
did i fly into a tornado: or was i actually supposed
to fly into one?!

i love women... like i love dogs...
hmm... leashes... muzzles...
i love cats more though... esp. thorough-breeds...
Maine *****... what leash, what muzzle?!
they're like prostitutes...
they like good company...
they're kept by keeping good company;
one's own...
i was making the bed chastising Christianity
i would have spit my phlegm onto the sacrificial altar
if i knew better...
no, you, silly little ****!
you're not going to own the stature of Belial
in the Legion to Come!
you *******-dim-whit! you sacred cow
of Golgotha! i will make 100 beds before i see you
make statements of the sort you made:
even the most evil men in history have made wise-sayings!

you have no ******* excuses!
you... sacrifice for the entry of hell into this currency of
realms a bit of it... what sort of harrowing was
it that you didn't decide upon staying down
there and reigning, ensuring everything would
stay in order? never mind...

a beast is stirring in me, i can't tame him sometimes,
i was supposed to wait until the 30th of this month
to return to the brothel after a shift at Fulham
unfortunately i have already began preparations
for the past three days... stroking the "whittle Richard"
while taking a ****, sometimes several times
a day... school uniforms... legs in nylon...
bare legs with knee high socks...
my head starts whirling with a sort of gravity
that you feel when standing still and not falling...
i need a woman's scent on me...

that's stroking the "whittle Richard" without
climaxing... that's what you do: to get the blood flowing,
i knew men as young as 16 who were pressured
into using *******-supplements...
     me? i really did have to think about Margaret Thatcher
and try to get a *******...
well... no... it wasn't Margaret Thatcher...
the middle-aged woman across the street...
not a beached-whale... but not exactly ****-curvy
that plump-peach come plump-peach type...
still... i just saw her today and was like: yep...
i'd do her...
   i remember going crazy once...
like the prostitutes tell me: you're good mad...
not the bad mad type: the good mad type...
again: prostitutes, psychiatrists, priests...
                                                    i tried all three and
it seems the girls know so much more...
but this woman across the street had a thing once
of walking bare naked in her bedroom without any
curtains... this one particular evening i was lying
on the sofa watching Silence of the Lambs...
she walks in... bulging ****... like a milking concubine...
such unfolding of fat that i got a ****** within
seconds...
    she walks out... but that's not the point...
minutes later her elder daughter walks in... also...
bare naked... it's enough to get a stiff one and then
watch it drop... to then get a second one...

but that wasn't the end of the whole "silence of the lambs"...
no more than five minutes passed...
her young daughter walks in: also bare naked...
another hard-on... oh for ****'s sake...
i felt like being Marquis de Sade in that film Quills...
where he laments with a funny sort of anger...

then ****** me! ******* you, Abbe!
have you no true sense of my condition?
of its gravity?
my writing is involuntary,
like the beating of my heart.
                                       my constant *******!


like today... i managed to catch a succubus
upon waking... woke before 8am slipped downstairs
for a cup of water... walked back up for a snooze
but instead of lying in bed laid on the floor...
in between dreams and nothingness
some fat girl was kissing me... *******...
oh for ****'s sake... in the morning... all this peeling
and unpeeling of the phallus...
i feel sorry for those circumcised *****... i really do...
i mean: for those circumcised *****...
they will never experience the joy of *******
as they will never experience the joy
of doing it yourself to yourself proper...
as they will never experience the joy of having
that ******* strangle the head of their phalluses
to a more prominent *******...
nor find a woman more exhilarated when she finds
our that you can do that trick...
i couldn't even if i wanted to... be circumcised...
i have two protruding veins encircling the tip
like those two serpents of the Staff of Hermes...
Caduceus...
                 each time i pull back the *******
i risk the chance of rupturing the veins...
now that would be a beautiful death... bleeding out
through one's ****...

went to the supermarket to stock up...
as usual this gorgeous Roma girl was selling the Big Issue...
the only socialist magazine i ever buy...
i don't buy the magazine for the content:
i buy it for her gorgeous smile... and those raven feathers
of her... her mocha skin...
anyway... skim reading...
HEALTH... how *** education is failing the young...
sophia smith galer...
oh right... this old chestnut...
because we had *** education in a catholic school?
i remember lessons on drugs...
the catholic system about educating children
about the perils of drugs involved...
ha ha... nothing about LSD nothing about marijuana...
alcohol passed them by...
we learned about the perils of either sniffing
glue or inhaling aerosoles... wow!
is this ******* Ukraine?! am i living in Ukraine?!

of course *** education is **** in England...
those ******* prunes are not plums
they're not wine and grapes: they're raisins...
ugh... no wonder i've been living in England
since the age of 8... now 36 and i still haven't slept
with an English girl... or a Scottish girl for that matter...
what?! it's true... Australian, French,
Romanian, Ukrainian, Turkish, Thai, Russian,
i'm guessing Ghanian... at least two black girls...
Kenyan? i'd love a Somalian girl...
let me think... nope... no English girl...
are they nuns or something?
             the *** education focuses on risk-assessments...
mind you... i did a risk assessment with
Khadija... she just giggled and said: living dangerously?
as we had unprotected ***...
now... a ****** would make sense...
if it was a full body ****** suit... that sounds
ultra ******* fun... but no role-playing...
just the raw back-wards and forwards...

truly: a man realises sooner rather than later that
he has three prime faculties:
imagination, thinking and memory...
and that he falls into at least one of the following
categories... recognising that, he: himself
is either a political animal,
a social animal... or a ****** animation...
i don't why he's an animal politically or socially...
but is a ****** animation: maybe because
*** animates man more than the other two
categories...

and when i mentioned that i abhor Thespians
with a passion: i wasn't referring to Thespians proper,
i was referring to the pornographers...
*** is unreal in reality: or at least it ought to be...
esp. if armed with two mirrors on the wall...
there are woman who can't keep eye contact
during *******... others that eat you with their eyes...
mind you: you can't learn about women at
first from women... you have to learn about
women from other men: of literature...
it takes about 5... to start learning about women
from women from yourself...
by then it's a solo project... it's not even an ego-tripping
affair... if beautiful women can share themselves
around... while those less fortunate have
the pillar of monogamy: you learn from the beautiful
women who went the route of prostitution:
well... nature is bountiful, it ought to be enjoyed:
fully! i can't just not share my love among
many... it would be unfair on the others to only
commit to one...

today i did the unthinkable... back in high school:
although it was a catholic 'un they admitted
the usual perverts... Egyptian... as young boys
we were comparing ****** hair and **** sizes...
we even measured our ***** in private and came
back with answers... i did it again...
everything looks small in my hands...
the width of both my hands and still there's
a head showing... i could pick up a basketball
with one hand by the time i was 16...

but all of this is good! it's vitality! it's virility!
as i gave this Roma girl £3 for the magazine
she smiled and said: god bless you...
where's my carriage?! where's my horse!
it felt so medieval...
i thanked her and already thought:
the gods have blessed me already...
they made me mad... and as you probably know
about the nature of madness:
you can't go mad twice... i'm recovering:
i was blessed in an instance...
oh hello there... little fella...
a grasshopper, aqua-green was clinging to my arm...
i tried to cycle ever so gently...
hitch-hiker! you're coming with me...
you're going to be so happy in my garden...
cycled with the little ****** back home...
put him on my index finger from my arm
onto the plum tree... a nice addition to the beauty
of my garden... the peaches and plums are bulging...

you couldn't possibly not learn anything
from Voltaire's Candide...
but i still don't understand English girls...
they talk the talk but don't walk the walk...
i don't understand ****** girls either...
the idea of boredom: in and of itself: by myself
is manageable... but sharing that special
instance of boredom with a woman:
to be bored by a woman? sounds insufferable...
and the damning aspect of this reality is probably
most likely to arise from ******-politics of constraint...

i couldn't stomach marriage... for one i couldn't
stomach having a piece of metal on my finger...
i abhor any symbolism of wealth in the form
of rings put on fingers...
i need my fingers clean... bare...
to me rings on fingers are a sign of a ******...
priest or otherwise ****...
they're disgusting.... just like earrings...
well... apart from those thin... very large rings...
and necklaces... all manner of piercings...
i prefer scars to tattoos...
  
hmm... anyone heard of... VAGINISMUS?!
a ****** pain disorder...
pelvic spasms... prevention of entry...
pain... i remember this one session with a girl
i really liked... no... it wasn't ****...
but she started crying during *******...
i hope she was crying about the fact that
i was slightly large back then... before i left
the realm of psychiatry and anti-psychotic medication
and let the world be itself... random...
yeah: but that felt ******...
you're ******* a girl and she starts crying...
psychosexual disorders...
depends what mood i'm in... and how little exercise
i have undertaken...
i mean: if you match up with a body
your mind has fetishes over...
plump... slightly larger... you simply can't
last a marathon of pumping
in the *******...
it's a bit like the GPS of birds migrating...
there's no explanation, proper, just a mystery...
i like this aspect of reality:
that not everything requires to be explained...
it just is... mysteriously so:
not magically... mysteriously so... because?
it's not an explanation can't be willed... summoned...
but... a human explanation of what's already
so ****** effective will not change the will
of said mystery... it just ****** is...
man can't improve on it...
and talking about it with explanations rids the mystery
of its aesthetics!
and we want beauty in our lives, don't we?!

well... i can't stand myself being this ***** and
not having an outlet... i need an outlet...
i need... flesh... i need two bodies prancing about
like toddlers in mirrors...
i'm finding myself thirsty...
i need to write an antidote to all that pornographic
exposure... i need to exercise...
i need to grasp Chinese selfless philosophy to
sooth me... i can't stomach the Greeks
or Christianity these days...
i need a second schism in Islam...
this would require... un-circumcised men...
men who might appreciate ******* with the feeling
a woman feels under the shower...
un-circumcised men who don't require
a payment for their circumcision with a woman
wearing a niqab... well... if she really wants
to... then at least linen... closer to white than black...
my god... Jesse Glynne... both ginger
and with curly hair...
    no no... i'm not missing out on the brothel tonight...
i'm already seeing how my eyes have lost
their iris and sclera: they're all shark-like
consumed by an expanding pupil...
oh... i'm serious... the Mamluks and the Janissaries
were serious people...
i have nothing left under the shadow of the crucifix...
no "higher event" manual argument
to turn my apostasy into a re-confrimation of
a faith that punishes rather than celebrates...
that moralises that punishes pleasures with pains...
this... sterile Greco-Hebrew conspiracy
against the Roman way of life...
as long as i scribble with these letters... the rest can burn:
it can moan with a mouth of a wound
that will never heal...

— The End —