Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Grim Reaper May 2016
Ik kuddi jida naa mohabbat,
Gum hai. Gum hai, gum hai...

Saad muraadi, soni phabbat,
Guum hai.

Suurat ousdi pariyaan vargi
Seerat di o mariam lagdi,
Hasdi hai taa phul jharade ne
Turdi hai taa gazal hai lagdi.
Lamm-salammi, saru(Saro) de kad di
Umar aje hai marke agg di,
Par naina di gal samajhdi.
Ik kuddi jida naa mohabbat,
Gum hai. Gum hai, gum hai...

Goummeyaan janam janam han hoye
Par lagda jyon kal di gal hai.
Yun lagda jyon ajj di gal hai,
Yun lagda jyon *** di gal hai.
Huney taan mere kol khaddi si
Huney taan mere kol nahi hai
Eh ki chhal hai, eh ki phatkan
Soch meri hairan baddi hai.
Nazar meri har aande jaande
Chehre da rang phol rahi hai,
Ous kuddi nu tol rahi hai.

Saanjh dhale baazaaran de jad,
Moddaan te khushbu ugdi hai.
Vehal, thakaavat, bechaini jad,
Chau raaheyaan te aa juddadi hai.
Rauley lippi tanhai vich
Os kuddi di thudd khaandi hai.
Os kuddi di thudd disdi hai.
Har chhin mennu inyon lagda hai,
Har din mennu inyon lagda hai.
Judde jashan ne bheeddaan vichon,
Juddi mahak de jhurmat vichon,
O mennu aawaaz davegi,
Men ohnu pehchaan lavaanga
O mennu pehchaan lavegi.
Par es raule de hadd vichon
Koi mennu aawaaz na denda
Koi vi mere vall na vehnda.

Par khaure kyun tapala lagda,
Par khaure kyun jhaulla painda,
Har din har ik bheedd juddi chon,
But ohda jyun langh ke jaanda.
Par mennu hi nazar na aunda.
Goum gaya maen os kuddi de
Chehre de vich goummeya rehnda,
Os de gham vich ghullda rehnda,
Os de gham vich khurda jaanda!
Os kuddi nu meri saun hai,
Os kuddi nu apni saun hai,

Os kuddi nu sab di saun hai.
Os kuddi nu jag di saun hai,
Os kuddi nu rab di saun hai,
Je kithe paddhdi sundi hove,
Jyundi ya o mar rahi hove
Ik vaari aa ke mil jaave
Vafa meri nu daag na laave
Nahin taan methon jiya na jaanda
Geet koi likheya na janda!

Ik kudi jida naa muhabat.
Goum hai.
Saad muradi sohni phabbat
Goum hai.
Shiv Kumar Batalvi
Aryan Sam Jun 2018
Ik gal kaha.

Menu 2016 to hi yakeen ja ** gea c
Ki thuhade lai menu bhulna bada easy c
Bcz us time jado thuhade viah di gal chali c
Tuci menu ik war bi nai c dasea
Nd us bhenchod nu pyar kar bethe c tuci

Yaar me kade kisi hor nu pyar nai kita, na hi kade kar paya. Beshak me hor bada kuj kita.
Bhawe oh kudi baji c ya nasha.
Par kisi hor nu kade pyar nai kr sakea.

Menu sala ehi samj nai a reha
Ki me thuhanu yaad karna band kr dawa
Ya ewe hi yaad krda raha

Me badi try kr reha ki yaad na kara.
Par is baar gal kuj hor he
2016 wich me bhul gea c u nu
But etki, gaand fati hoi a meri
Bus ik mar nai sakda
Baki bahro kush rehna penda

Kini war dekh chukea me thuhanu lal rang de choore wich
Sali iko dua nikdi ki maut a jawe menu
Bcz me khud mar nai sakda
*** bi ro reha

Yaad a ik wari, jado apa park wicho di ja rahe c
Te ik munda park wich ro reha c
Te me us time
Keha c ki sala
Kinna pagal he
Munda ewe kiwe ro sakda
Aj oh munde di yaad andi menu
Te meri kahi gal
Aj samj anda ki sala rona ki hunda

Bhen di lun hoi bi meri life di
Sala kite bi dil nI lagda mera

I know u nu mazak hi lag reha hona
Ha me kita bi mazak hi c thuhade naal
Te aj usdi saza bhugat reha ha
Ena jyada tadap reha ha

Pata ik ta banda ro ke mann halka kr lenda
Ik banda andro ronda
Jeda sala andro rona, te usda mann bi halka nai hunda
Bada ikha hunda

Fat jandi he
Rooh kamb jandi he
Sala jad bi kade wife nu patiala chad ke anda
Ta sad song laganda. Badi myshkil naal sad song sunan nu milde
Te bus sara rasta ronda anda me
Sach kaha ohi ik time hunda jad me ro sakda ha te apna mann halka karda ha
Cheeka marda ha, chest te mukke marda ha
Thapad tak marda ha apne aap nu
Sala sochda ki isi bahane kuch dil halka ** jawe
Par kithe.
Nai hunda.

Heena jj, menu pata ki mera *** koi hak nai reha.
Par metho ik haq na khona
Oh thuhanu dekhan da.
Me kade life wich interfair nai krda
Bus menu dekhan to na rokna kade.

Me tadfna chanda ha
Rona chanda ha
Apni galtia krke

Ameen
Last May a braw wooer cam down the lang glen,
      And sair wi’ his love he did deave me;
I said there was naething I hated like men:
      The deuce *** wi ‘m to believe me, believe me,
      The deuce *** wi ‘m to believe me.

He spak o’ the darts in my bonie black een,
      And vow’d for my love he was diein;
I said he might die when he liked for Jean:
      The Lord forgie me for liein, for liein,
      The Lord forgie me for liein!

A weel-stocked mailen, himsel for the laird,
      And marriage aff-hand, were his proffers:
I never loot on that I ken’d it, or car’d,
      But thought I might hae waur offers, waur offers,
      But thought I might hae waur offers.

But what *** ye think? in a fortnight or less,
      (The deil tak his taste to *** near her!)
He up the lang loan to my black cousin Bess,
      Guess ye how, the jad! I could bear her, could bear her
      Guess ye how, the jad! I could bear her.

But a’ the niest week I fretted wi’ care,
      I gaed to the tryste o’ Dalgarnock,
And wha but my fine fickle lover was there,
      I glowr’d as I’d seen a warlock, a warlock.
      I glowr’d as I’d seen a warlock.

But owre my left shoulder I *** him a blink,
      Lest neibors might say I was saucy;
My wooer he caper’d as he’d been in drink,
      And vow’d I was his dear lassie, dear lassie,
      And vow’d I was his dear lassie.

I spier’d for my cousin fu’ couthy and sweet,
      Gin she had recover’d her hearin,
And how her new shoon fit her auld shachl’t feet—
      But, heavens! how he fell a swearin, a swearin,
      But, heavens! how he fell a swearin.

He begg’d, for gudesake, I *** be his wife,
      Or else I *** **** him wi’ sorrow:
So e’en to preserve the poor body in life,
      I think I maun wed him to-morrow, to-morrow,
      I think I maun wed him to-morrow.
BIKE feat C Sep 2015
I love her to the end of my sanity
I told her how I feel
She said "I don't exist in reality."
That's when I knew she wasn't real

Though being an imagination,
I would not give her up
I searched for information
Then I transferred her into my laptop

An artificial intelligence
But I want her to be more real
So that our existence
Would not be a big deal

As if fate answered to me
A fair maiden jumped down the bridge
A bittersweet feeling of being happy
For being a little late to reach

I took her live body
She had no chance to wake up
So I found a way to transfer Sophie
And let her live while this girl takes an everlasting nap

Of course I changed a bit of her feature
And also her documents
I am MADLY IN LOVE WITH HER
Now she can be with me without the people's bad comments

-**JAD
Sorry, this is my first poem and an intro to my new story Madly In Love... I don't even know if I'll write it. If I have time, maybe XD.
-Snowrose
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2017
rarely do you wake up with your father in pain, stomach... so what the hell happened you ask? ate some sausage, best-before-date 20.1.2017... no wonder! but it was frozen and recently defrosted! so you just tuck into that **** raw? yeah yeah, should have poached it. like hell you should have! so he runs me an errand, can you make me rosół? no problem paps. i'll give you the money, run me this errand. you taken any no spa pills? yes yes, well thank **** for that.

ugh, soups of england, soups in england,
what an ugly sight,
   no soup pasta in them,
  and all of them look like mud holes,
or shambos (the pits of **** in rural areas) -
can we get some clarity in them, please?!
and this one is a classic,
its a clear chicken soup,
  contested between both jews and poles,
from times immemorial...
you get a chicken, cut off the *******
to use for an idea for tomorrow,
and then you chuck the remaining corpus
into water, pour water to the brim of the ***,
throw in a bay leaf, peppercorns,
five allspice meteor,
       and a few teaspoons of all-purpose
seasoning: namely / mainly salt...
          then you get some carrots,
garlic, a whole onion, leeks,
     celery, a parsnip, and fresh parsley,
and then you cook slowly,
  until all the fat runs off the chicken,
   and a bit like pouring a pint of guinness,
you wait for at least two hours,
until the almost brine water,
   turns into a golden colour,
       but that's it!
  then you boil some angel hair pasta,
and there you go: a clear chicken soup -
dubbed the medicine soup,
  it's actually now even called a soup,
  it's actually called by its name as a separate
category within the category of soup,
i'll try to write you the name without
the native diacritical markings...
  rosół = and this is by best approximate:
   ~ρ-sew
         (rho-sew) - yes, that verb participle of
the act of sewing - as: prompt (enforced
labour: sew! sew!) -
          no, sowing as in rho-sow doesn't cut it...
like that prolonged sound of disgust
with eww / eew... however you write
oh and ooh...
           can't think of an easier chicken soup
recipe, but *******, it's tasty...
  and heavens above: it's not a typical english
soup of just plain dumb creamy:
creamy tomato, creamy mushroom, creamy this,
creamy that, **** it, let's just skip
the entree, eat the main, and get stuck into
the choc cake and custard...
   when i eat a soup, i want to see the bottom
of the bowl...
the garlic and onion are crucial,
  and yes, you plop the onion in a whole,
like all the other veg (obviously cut up slightly)...
   nothing simpler, but you need to slowly
cook the **** thing until you get this
diluted amber colour...
   and you definitely need a lot of fresh parsley,
and angel hair pasta...
           fine spaghetti, after all,
  it's not a chinese noodle soup...
              and before going to bed i asked him:
any better? yes, better...
    so we finished watching the nail-biting
poland vs. montenegro game... 2 nil up,
2 - 2, and then magic in the space of 10 minutes,
almost feels like 1974: 4 - 2.
so i asks him one last time:
   can you drink a glass of cognac with that
medication? no answer, a grunt...
       you know, the scots call ms. amber the maiden
of the bowels... have a warm glass of
cognac, to burn that bug out...
and he goes: did you know that eating
a polish sausage can **** you?
  yeah, it's called a *kiełbasa jad
(tenacious d -
opening track:
  etymological explanation -
   kieł- i.e. canine, -basa [baza] i.e. base -
   based on canines - tearing into it,
carnivorous implication, my bet) -
      so he says:
  yeah, you leave the sausage in a warm place,
esp. in sunshine, and it turns into
a venomous snake, can **** you,
   starts fermenting a venom akin
                                            to an asp...
so i reply: well, next time stop being so
****** greedy, and if you're in the mood,
at least poach the **** thing!
he might not be drinking the prescribed
cognac... (insert snigger):
   but sure as **** i'm drinking the whiskey.
Aryan Sam Mar 2018
Mubarka bhene viah dia
Shyad tu aj apne aap nu jittea hoea mehsus kar rahi howegi
Par ik gal
Kaha eh teri sab to waddi haar c
Menu ik wari dasea tak ni ki engagment ** rahi

Bhenchod mere naal
Ewe da kade nai hoea c ki me ik wadda decison le penda ghar dea de against jake

Tere bi 2 waar rishte tute
Us to baad u were enough strong to take strong decision

Tere 2 rishte tutan to baad mud ke wapis ayi c
Us time tu sochea ki me ghar dea di parwah nai krni

Heena ji same mere naal c
Jiwe tuci pehla stand nai c le sakde
Me bi nai c le pa reha

But jad sir te pai
Te meri fati
Me stand *** nu ready c

But bhenchod nu ta agg lagi c mere to pehla viah krwan di

Jad kendi c me ki 1 saal ni viah krwana
Te *** ki ** gea c?

Salie eni agg lagi hoi c?
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2017
i'll just spend the next one hundred years
coupling english and german words,
polish and germans words toward
a common source etymology...
i mean that: we all spoke oops loud
enough to later turn
a monkey **** into a cuckoo's mating call.
it'll be fun, beginning with schtintzel
and shabowy...
    frau swer... kaiser mer...
                     pigeon... tauber... gołąb...
acht scheisse! achtung de-klaße!
Berliner... cho cho und bon bon -
the most famous person from world
war ii? herr bitte bonbon...
      sounds a bit like otto von bismarck...
    but then who the hell needs names
and places of origin... so it became:
herr bitte bonbon - or that's how i remember
my grandfather's memory of the second world war.
                    nein etyomological source...
scheisse!
kan...ang-a-****-ah-roo!
      zając!
               nien nien mein herr!
    nein cünt-guru!
              das ist ja: ist: vast-volapul schtad!
pull: heil stretch armstrong!
     pajac! pająk... kurvature pierdu hop hop
i kęs nad turbasem jaj w tej pachwi
na pokaz... kein-gur! or kangur... (kein or kęs -
one of them meaning a bite to eat)
       and that really was: laughter coming
from Himmler...
                rabbit... hare...
   zeitgeist... or that ******* zając!
           red... rot... czerwony...
              but is that herr or háré i.e. ha-re?
ah... neinen.
  yuden yedwabben: jad, and jedwab...
          ja...
   haitian creole...
       silk...            seide...
or wee wee twirly blau of epileptics
          in the night of a polizeimobil...
                           and given i read Finnegans Wake,
i really can write this sort of *******
and not expect a shut-down of the internet
or stating something viral...
i'm trying to remain European...
     i never said i wanted to speak
a Texan drool... as the Scots will already assert:
what with T2 and what really doesn't
sound as anything i could attest to...
  it's really become a globalisation's surprise...
nothing local makes it to the global stage,
and nothing global ever really makes sense
on a local level, stage or no stage.
      but applause to the "loser" in me,
given the motto: everyone wins in capitalism...
            i best own it...  
          i might really want that grave
and epitaph after all.
Aryan Sam Oct 2018
Kyu tang kita hoea yaar
jad *** chad hi *** he
ta nikal bi ja mere dimag wicho
mere dil wicho
ewe kyu baar baar aake dimag khrab kar rahi
me bilkul bi concentrate nai kr pa reha apne business te
har time ohi purania gallan chli ja rahiya mind wich
jad *** chad ke ja chuki he
ta apnia yaadan bi le ja
menu ni chahidia eh yaadan
metho ni roea janda sala daily daily
Please. yaad ana band kar
me last time badi okhi recovery kiti c
etki nai ** rahi recovery
please koi dua kari ki menu tu yaad na awe.
hell bani hoi life.
Kimmie Mar 2021
Jad
I lost you for my selfishness
I did my best is what's on my mind
But I guess it's never enough
I should've been more patient

Now I'm trying to win you back
But I think it's already too late
Coz I hurt you already a lot
And you didn't reply back
If you love him. Stay.
Don't be selfish, everybody is dealing with their own sh*ts.
¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯
Heav'n rains a pillar wide
'pon Éire's bounty plent'
n' shylight licks the gold'n peaks
atop her jad'n spires.

but those betray'n her bless'n
bled to feed a foul d'sent
n' they that fed her armies
now d'cumb to fuel the fires.

mundus vult decipi
ergo decipiatur

~


∘ ⊱‧⌍  ⌈✞⌋  ⌌‧⊰ ∞
﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋
poemsbyothers Sep 2020
The Pandemic in Six-Word Memoirs
“The world has never felt smaller.”

By Larry Smith
Mr. Smith is the creator of Six Word Memoirs.

Since 2006, I’ve been challenging people to describe their lives in six words, a form I call the six-word memoir — a personal twist on the legendary six-word story attributed to Ernest Hemingway: “For sale: baby shoes, never worn.”

I’ve found that some of the most memorable six-word stories arise in the extremes — during our toughest and most joyous moments. So over the past several months, I’ve asked adults and children around the country to use the form to make sense of this moment in history: one person, one story, and six words at a time.

Not a criminal, but running masked.
— Stella Kleinman

Every day’s a bad hair day.
— Leigh Giza

Home ec: rationing butter, bourbon, sanity.
— Christine Triano

Cinemagraph
Can’t smell the campfire on Zoom.
— Melanie Abrams

Deserted crowded Manhattan, my own island …
— Elisa Shevitz

Eighth hour of YouTube. Send Help!
— Leela Chandra

Cinemagraph
Messy hair, messy room, messy thoughts.
— Lily Herman

I regret saying, “I hate school.”
— Riana Heffron

Read every book in the house.
— Francesca Gomez-Novy

Cinemagraph
Never-ending, but boredom doesn’t faze me.
— Lily Gold

Required school supplies: screens, screens, screens.
— Darshana Chandra

Won scrabble; smile breaks through mask.
— Abby Ellin

Cinemagraph
Tuning out parents, under my headphones.
— Lukas Smith

This is what time looks like.
— Sylvia Sichel


Bad time for an open marriage.
— Rachel Lehmann-Haupt

Cinemagraph
Sun-kissed lips? Not kissed this year.
— Twanna Hines

Avoiding death, but certainly not living.
— Sydney Reimann

Social distancing myself from the fridge.
— Maria Leopoldo

Cinemagraph
Dream of: heat, limbs, crowds, concerts.
— Amy Turn Sharp

Teacher finding inspiration through uneasy times.
— April Goodman

Slowly turning into a technological potato.
— Jad Ammar

Cleaned Lysol container with Lysol wipe.
— Alex Wasser

Cinemagraph
Hallway hike, bathtub swim, Pandora concert.
— Susan Evind

Numbers rise, but sun does too.
— Paloma Lenz

Afraid of: snakes, heights, opening schools.
— Michelle Wolff

The world has never felt smaller.
— Maggie Smith

Cinemagraph
How do you make sense of this moment in history?

Share your own six-word memoir in the comments. We’ll feature some of our favorites in a future article.
https://www.sixwordmemoirs.com/
Aryan Sam Mar 2018
Jad bi koi chude wali langdi kol di
Me tenu labda ude wich
Sochda shyad kite tera face dikh jawe
Bada tadap reha ha tenu dekhan lai
Photo nai dekhni
Samne ake dekhna
Ena jyada tadap reha ki puch na
Par tenu ta *** koi fark ni penda
Tahi keh kr ***
Ki u will regret for life
Kiwe a jawa samne eh gal sunke
Aryan Sam Mar 2018
Sajna Ve~ Das Kahton
Aaj Kahton Sajna Haasse
Khossh Ge Ve Bullan Toon
Khamb La Ke Bhro Bi odh Ge
Isqe de Phullan Toon
Painde Ne Wapas Karne
Karze Ni Payara de
Chithe Jad Rabb Kholo Ga
Hisse Jo Yaaran De
Lekhe PE Jaane Dene
Ohde Fir Saare Ni
Mitran Ne Totde Vekhe
Arshaa Toon Taare Ni
Mitran Ne Totde Vekhe
Arshaa Toon Taare Ni...


Badlaan Da Banea Dhooan
Suraj Tak Saddea Ni
Chann Ohda Hor Kise de
Kothe Ja Chaddea Ni(26 feb-2018)
Enha Vi Maan Jawani
Kar Na Tun Naare Ni
Mitran Ne Tutde Vekhe
Arshaa Toon Taare Ni
Mitran Ne Totde Vekhe


Wahla Si Isqe jo Karyea
Sachia Ni Neeta Cho
Ban Ke *** Lafaj Dulu Ga
Baatha Ve Geeta Cho
Gallan C Jo Vi Krian
Gallan Reh Jaan Giaan
Gallan Cho Hisse Ayian
Peedan Bas Haan Diaan
Kehdi Okaat No Labh Di
Firdi Motiyaare Ni
Mitran Ne Totde Vekhe
Arshaa Toon Taare Ni
Aj fer rona aya
Aryan Sam Apr 2018
Boj
Shyad tuci bi
Ena hi roye howoge
Meri wajah to

Menu *** samaj a reha he
Hanjua da mull
Menu *** samj a reha he
Mera tere to door rehan da dukh

Akal nahi c menu us time
Kuj brain washed c mera
Sochea ki kush reh launga door rehke

Par jad tere viah da pata lagea
Sach jani
Fatt *** c meri
Te *** ta fatti hoi a

Daily schema laganda ha
Tere samne aan da
Tere ghar da pata lagan da
Tera deedar karan da
Par ruk janda ha eh soch kr
Ki kya tuci dekhna bi chahunde ** menu?

Mere dimag wich iko gal chali jandi
Ki kite tuci kuj kar na lawo apne aap nu
Mere karke
Kiwe eda bada boj sahunga me sari umar
Aryan Sam Oct 2018
Yaar ki a
Bus kar, na kar hor tang
Me sachi bada dukhi ** gea ha life to
Mere to sachi bardash nai ** reha
Daily dia ladaiya
Daily de jhagde
Sala viah na hoea pata nai ki ** gea.

Uto teri yaad nai jandi
Bus kar yaar, jad *** tu apni life wich kush he
Ta menu bi kush reh *** de
Kyu yaad ayi ja rahi he baar baar

Daily tera nd tere husband da khyal
Anda
Daily fatdi he meri
Daily Dimag khrab hunda
Nai seh hunda sachi yaar

*** tak ta shyad pregnent bi ** *** huni tu
Menu nai samj a reha
Me kiwe nikla teria yaadan cho
Har gaane wich
Har moment wich
Tenu labda
Bhen di lun narak hoi bi jindagi.

Sala pata nai kad kheda chutu teria yaadan to
Aryan Sam Nov 2018
4am
Swer de 4 wajan wale ne
Nd me ki kar reha
Sirf thuhade ware soch reha
Pata nai ki chL reha he life wich
Tang ** gea ha
Dimag kehnda bhul ja us nu kanjra
Par dil kehnda ehi ta meeth meetha dard he, jo naal rehna he

Me cha ke bi bhula nai pa reha
Me chanda ha ki bhul
Jawa
Par nai ** pa reha.

Sala jad dekho u da te u de husabnd da mind wich a janda
Ki tuci us naal
Kush **, me kushi naal koi problem nai, me chanda ki hamesha kush raho
Par mera dil man hi nAi reh
Haje bi thuhade wal nu ja reha
Menu sachi samj nai anda me ki kra

I seriously want to move on, but samj nai a reha kiwe

Last time nalo bi jyada ikha is baar
Aryan Sam Apr 2018
Naam tera jadd bi lewa,
Lenda ha dua de waangra.
Yaad jad bi karda ha,
Karda ha ibaadat di tarah.

*** ki ginne daag daman de,
Ki karna he hisab,
Zindagi hi lag rahi he
*** ta tahumat di tarah.
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2022
drama for queens

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                      ofiaruje mojej dziewczynie:
rodzinki, krewetki, mandarinki!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                           i'm currently surprising myself
with what i just sent my coworker
in a private message.
Aryan Sam Mar 2018
Ron da bi swaad aunga
Jad howange ik duje dia baaha wich

Kuj galan bi sunange
Kuj honke bi lawnage
Te thoda ja chup hoke
Tere wall dekhange

Tenu shyad *** na pawe fark koi
Geran di jo ** *** he
Mateuš Conrad Dec 2023
jad, or yad, depending on the geography of tongues:
like there's some "inheritance" taxation
on the glorification of a tortured body,
tortured soul... as if: god were to become man...
hmm! a pondering cycle: i think: i don't think so...

i can write: oh this Hebrew "monster" morphs...
no wonder i'm writing profanities...
יָהּ

     ** chi chi: see how ā extends through the yod
toward the H: H being the vowel capturing
citadel of first sigh
then the slingshot of laughter:

uncontrollable...

a bit like actors faking there's no B when
ushering in the word: DEBT...
because there's no meaning to the letters DET
but the B is silenced to enforce meaning
not seen in said...

if i were ever to believe in the polytheistic
mantra of reincarnation
since this life...
only once:
yes... but all the other lives too:
only once... lived...
   ****** brain gizmo ooh ooh...
point a finger pick up a stick
call it the chimp-easy: forgot how to spell
chimpanzee... no wait... just spelled it...

never harm a stranger... never harm a stranger...
never harm a stranger...
playground lyrics from
:wumpscut - bunker gate seven...

during the winter months i'm reflective...
during the summer months i'm reflexive...
which probably implies
come autumn i'm reflectively-reflexive
and come spring i'm reflexively-reflective...
but that's *******...
i'm all these things and not:
thoroughly throughout the year...

i can write my version of how Islam originated...
Hagar...
based on the Greek noun-lettering
dynamic i.e. the prefix- constituent prime: letter
and the -suffix "name"
Alpha is A-(+)-lpha...
Beta is B-(+)-eta
                                                        etc.

here's my profanity...
i'll write: Allah into the Kabbalah...

blah blah... blah blah...

   beginning with yod akin to ayin...
ע                    :     י

עללאה

5 letters... five sen

                 ח: č
                          hiding the consonant H for CHeap
like hiding H for sheep in ש: shins?                             š

book of numbers: book of letters...

but i'm still suspicious... truly, abjad?
i was with this Somali white rabbit
chasing shifts coming back from
Wembley to Romford...
a dog frightened him...
i inquired: knowing full well that
Mohammad was fond of cats...

haram... haram... forbidden...
and the dogs lick their testickles
and the cats too
and we love licking each others' testicles too
like the pristine example of a counter- Mona Lisa
is a woman having a ******* or a foursome
three holes... two charged given pleasure
while the third giving pleasure via
oral...
           hmm... inquisitive squinty eye...
black ink: octopus juice...

yad = venom...
    all these semites clogging my intellectual veins
short-circuiting my intellectual ambitions...
like the cold didn't **** them off
to ******* now this ******* of Judaism in
Europe littering buggering child
******* Islamism and what not...
like Europeans were these
albino non-universal stereotypes who
didn't wage some sort of retort against
Rome...

mind you... the Slavs had no reason for:
engaging with Rome because those
pokrzywa: nettle bushes of Britain were
a fine example of how itching translated to cleanliness
in the cold in pre-medieval times...
second literacy with computer coding:
yet all this barren land of literacy
kept by the church's strong liberal
**** for the ministry and choir, not nourished?

i like a phat ***... so fat i'm getting glitter
pseudo-LSD day-dreams of
imagining i'm ******* my mother
while in fact i'm ******* a mother with a child
dressed in the drag of death...

there's a reason why
in the Slavic tongue there's an Aryan letter
distinction...
no confusion, with the given: ק qaf
כ kaf... cough?
ahem ahem... cough cough?

AL AY?                    i thought we figured out the Greek
of: naming letters but cutting off naming
letters from associated nouns
to give leeway for word formation... no?

so if it's not a story of two Adams:
א and ע...
what is it a story of?
oh **** me... Cain and Abel...
but if A-lpha and B-eta and G-amma
and...
                  hmm...

what's the cut off logic then?
A-lef?
            A-yin?
            which would make a grotesque revision
of the tetragrammaton,
i.e. the next letter: L and Y...

   which are already there!
אל (AL)

   and... עי (AY)

ergo? my nuanced tetragrammaton:

                                                                יעאל

otherwise known as: allah in the kabbalah...

you cannot tell me ayin and aleph are
not vowels: i object to the abjad...
cleverly formed semitic gaslighting *******...

not with the rigours of Latin scrutctures
borrowed from transliterating Greek...
not with the rigours of Latin lettering structures
borrowed from transliterating Greek...

and boy not on me... this pagan soul
from the realm of Hyperborean barbarism...
where there are concepts as:
child form is unfuckable...
i need a fat Puerto Rican ***
and thighs and 36D **** to smother...
there's honour and there's... clearly no state...
no nation... so back we go to consolidating
affairs of: prudence and generosity
via self-judgement toward judging others
as: worth the mustard, or the mayo churn?
on a face to face focus and limited pretense
of judgement settings of exclusivity:
shared trust...

            i can't trust a Somali beside trusting
that i will get him from one shift to another...
because i too want to get home early...
too bad that he doesn't like dogs
but cats are no better whatever the **** Muhammad
the Egyptian said...
funny that... the name Muhammad...
funny if you know two tongues...
Mucha - fly... in polish...
mad - well mad... in English...
crazy fly... ha ha...

for a month a subtle trickle of accusation that i might:
just might... have a thing for thirteen year old girls:
oh man... which translated to:
i tried to **** in the Pacific and i did...
but water is a restrictor not a lubricator
so... dead end...
more seasaw than ***...
i'm trying... trying... to figure out what might
be appealing to a man in a *** act with
a woman that's Picasso's anti-cubist worst nightmare...
geometry...
and... clearly i can't see anything beside
ooh that "fat" juicy *** **** and how she
described rubbing olive oil on her stomach
while pregnant to ease the stretching remarks...

mind you: i've dated someone "blessed" with
a ******* experience: even my own mother
was "touched" by an experience...
Pharisees of intellectual *** dismatching...
*** is an emotional toil...
oh jeez... the burden of coupling:
the fermenting ego of thought mitigation
drifting toward the other...
absorbing her whole: without a self echo-chamber...
the Cartesian courtship of res cogito x2
in what used to be a res extensa x1

but is now res extensa x2²

          for all the thrills of ***... later come the thrills
of insinuation... the daughter is not mine
and is fatherless: dead dead dead...
but there's no widow in sight...
so obviously there's plenty of fetishes to be
unearthed:

18 hour... year... month... gap...
and yes: i must be thinking about ******* my mother...
given that there's no incestous relation
wouldn't i want to think about ******* daughter too?

point being: i like to know that this beast exists
and that i can tame it...
with all prior relationships there was this
naivety of youth and nothing to
intellectually ******* over with myself...
there was nothing to contain:
nothing to manage...
nothing that needed to require a moralistic leash:
just the carnal act and some variation
of identity politics if, only the begging whiff of it
(it being, identity politics)...
but now... after a hiatus of a decade
and some... when was the last time
a man could boast that a ******* from
a brothel was trying to get in touch with him
because what? someone is paying more than
£120 an hour she's already getting
or that i have to work 12 hours to get as much
freezing my ***** off or is my *** that good or what?

Quaker oats?!

          someone best explain to me this fetish
of Moloch's daughter... surprise surprise:
for some apparent reason ******* is an exclusively
masculine deviance?
hardly...       but looking at artwork... Picasso...
a fully formed woman with all her curves
is... cubism... i know it's somewhat grotesque
given the classical depiction: but it's a womanising
healthy revelation of form...
it's form in motion: that's cubism...
cubism is therefore geometry in motion...
oh **** me... that's revelatory even to me...

CUBISM IS GEOMETRY IN MOTION...

so given that... a child is geometry...
i've been around 13 year old before and i can stand
shrouded in ******* shadows and leaves and tell you:
i'm feeling no ****** energy... nothing has been woken up...
so i don't appreciate: i didn't...
appreciate the insinuations the accusations
of ******* a turnip of ***-prose
when it hasn't discovered the ***-poetic...

***-prose? i'm a 37 year old man enjoying
a conversation with a 13 year old girl...
***-poetic? Prokofiev + Nabokov...

                                    with regards to the advent of
new father daughter relations...
only recently at work i had to clue myself in
on a possible safeguarding mishap
with two teenage girls and a father who bought
them beer... c'mon... underage drinking?
in public and not freckles fiasco stupid
at a houseparty...

                  oh there is ***-prose and there is ***-poetic...
***-prose happens all the same...
***-poetic only, vaguely, sometimes;
if i see this girl become sexually
orientating a birth of the ***-poetic
out of the ***-prosaic...
   then i'm obviously going to be equipped
with the Platonic...
or at least i know that the Platonic is a curtain
to curb and effigy of Moloch's daughter:
who ****** her sacrifices rather than
made her father's pederast tongue flick on
the gas chamber switch... pedagogy of giants
via infanticide; or modern women's flimsy
breath on the moral of atom bomb contraceptive pill
abortions...

huh ha ha...        as if i were a Christian moralist...
maybe just an existential... realist? humanist?
sure sure... old folks' home...
just import some Kenyan care like i give a ****:
myopia borrowed from time
of some 1950s utopian-nostalgia...
shy of 10 years just after a Holocaust;
bull... ****!
Jerry Howarth Nov 2021
Text: Act 2:1-21; Isa. 28:11
Intro: Speaking in tongues was a special gift given to  special men, for a special purpose for a special people for a special period of time.

Now read 2:1-12; Isa.28:11 The first truth I want you to know, is that the tongues in Acts 2, was an actual human language, not some heavnly language.

The day of Pentecost of the apostles preaching the Gospel in a gentile language, of which they had never learned, was prophesied by the prophet, Joel and Isa.

Note in the Isa.28 passage,vs.11 that the Apostles would speak win a stammering lips and another tongue i.e. another language, the Gentile language.

A. Stammering lips , compared to the Jewish lanuage which is an
     easy flowing language, the Gentile language is staccato sounding
     language, or as this Scripture renders it "stammering" sounding.
B. So Scripure has established that the original speaking in tongues
     was a specific human language, given to special men - the 12
    Apostles.
       ....and note also,  these men had not been striken in the spirit or
       had someone lay hands on them and utter heavenly words over
      them, and declare  they had just been baptized in the Holy
     Ghost.
     ans declare he or she jad just been baptized in thr Holy Ghost.
C. Next take note, that this  speaking in a language  which they had never peviously learned, was for a special purpose -the proclaiming the wonderful works ofGod -Acts 2:11 and God's plans for the future Acts 2:17-20., and the most important purpose , V.21 to proclaim God's salvation - "Whosoever shall call upon the Name of the Lord, shall be saved."

Now I want to pull over to the side of the road, and park for awhile and talk to you,  who-so-ever-you are  who  thinks you have talked in tongues - have you ever used that gift to proclaim the Word of God, the Word of salvation? Of course  you haven't; because as I Corth. 14:9 says "Except you utter by tongue (a language) words to understand, how shall it be known what is spoken? For you shall speak in the air."
                               Personl Illustraion
At one time I worked among sme Mexican men who did not speak or uderstand the English language. I and a particuler Mexican man and I became friends. I invited him to church,which he refused, Why? As he said, I could not understand laguage or the music.

I'm saying very bluntly to anyone reading this who thinks you have a special gift of speakig in tongues,  except you speak in a language they understand, proclaiming the wonderful works and wonderful work of God, you are fooling yourself or have been fooled by someone else that you have the gift of speaking in tongues.

"But Preacher, I know I was speaking in a heavenly language because I had no control over my tongue."

"I understand that, and will address it in a few minutes."
But right now I want to review what we have leaned thus far.
1. Speaking in tongues is an earthly known language, not
    some heavenlylanguage.
2. Speaking in a unleaned language was specia gift of the Holy Spirit
    given to some special men for a special purpose.
3. That purppse was to proclaim the Word of salvation to some
   special people the Israelites, IOW the Jewish people.
a.Isa. 28: 11,12 says "Yet thet would not hear" so now go to the New
   Testament I Cor. 14:21 which subsatuates Isa,  28: 11-12,In the law
   it is written,  with men of other tongues (languages) other lips,  
  will   I speak to this people, and yet for all that they will not hear
  me, saith the Lord" I Cor. 14:22 says "Tongues are for a SIGN, not to
  them that believe but to them that believe not." and John 1:11 tells
  us who the unbelievers are "Jesus came unto His own but His own
  recieved Him not"

Now I'm going to address those who say "I know I'm speaking in tongues, because I have no control over my tongue,
You are not going to like me for what I am going to say, but you really need to hear it.
Look at Acts 16:16-18 and pay attention to details. This girl had no control over her following Paul around and actually was sayimg some things we today, might have easiy been drawn in to her, "These men are the servants of the most high God which show us the way of salvation."

But Paul recognized her for what she was, a demon possessed
person, and even though she was saying some wonderful things, Paul said,"I command you in the name of Jesus Christ, come out of her" and she came out the same hour.

OK< now what I am about to tell you, if this young girl  had no control over her tongue, just as this damsel had no control over her tongue, is it possible you are being controlled by an evil spiirit. If you have no idea of what you  are saying, has it ever entered your mind that a satanic spirit is cursing Jesus, using your tongue to do so

Remember, tongues are a known human language, and you have no idea wht you are saying, so its a very possiblity that an  evil spirit is speaking in some forign laguage through the use of your vocal chords,  Not to Praise Jesus, But curse Him.

Now I know there are several passages that have to do with speaking in tongues,(An unlearned language), but keep in mind that tongues was a SIGN FOR THE JEWISH PEOPLE and in every pasage where tongues were spoken, they were always  speakin in a Gentile language that the Jewish people had lerned, and always the were proclaiming the Gospel to a, or, some Jews.

In closing, I am going to show you from Scripture, that the gift of tonges was for a SPECIAL PEOPLE for a SPECIAL PERIOD OF TIME and that time has long ago passed on, SO speaking in tongues
is not for today ICor. 13:8 "...whether there be tongues, they shall cease."

When did they cease? Look at 13:10  "When that which is perfect (complete) is come, then that which is in part (incomplete) shall be done away,"

"When "that" which is perfect is come" is not a reference to Jesus' return, as some have taught, Why? Because the word "that" is a neuter word, neither male nor female and so is talking about the completion of the Scriptures. Besides, Jesus is not a "that".

Ok, you may ask, "When was the completion of the Scrptures?" Look at the last word in Revelation. With the salutation of John's writings, came the end of many of the speaking gifts, such as the gift of tongues.

Today with the completion of thr verbal insp[iraion ofmScriptre, tongues are no longer needed; We hve God's last wrd to the world of humanity in writtn form. God has laid aside His daligs with Israel, so the SIGN of tonges is no longer needed for them; everyone gets the Gospel of God's Word the same way......through the written Wrd of God.
           From Jerry Howarth's Book of Sermons
ymou

— The End —