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Alexander  K  Opicho
Eldoret,Kenya;aopicho@yaho.com


he was borne by a woman
the one Mary from the Jewish royal blood line
he was conceived and carried in the womb for nine months
shamefully conceived in the immoral razzmatazz before marriage
conceived out side the wedlock in a fornicatory  stretch
which the Jewish casuistry has circumlocuted around
only to call immaculate conception; what a puzzle ?
Joseph the cuckold from a poor wood working Jewry
was pinned down by spiritual powers that be
through ****** angelicality of the airy Gabriel
to accept pregnant Mary with her pregnancy
for she was royal only doing him a favour
to extend her olive leave of marriage
for the Jewish royal don't marry paupers
lest they commit the sin of miscegenation
catholically annoted the sinful misselliance,

he was born and grew up in full testimony of calls of nature;
pissiful micturation,open defecation, breathing,
and yawning in response  to pangs of hunger
physically deformed in the left leg
as his slender and tall body walked with  a  pronounced limb
crossing the deserts and sand tunes of Palestine
as he went to India in the University of Taxixashila
to read the epical poems of Ramayana and Mahabharata
as well as the sayings of Buddha Gautama
that had been extant for six centuries before Christ was born,
it is by reading Gautama that he got the blessed poems
of humility and mental powerfulness whose famous line
is blessed are  they who are poor for them shall inherit the earth.

He walked back on his deformed leg in a pronounced limb
to Nazareth a colony of Rome and buried himself in the deep read
reading the Mosaic thespic work of Job in the fictitious land of Uz
and the psalteric poems of the Machiavellian King
often known as David of Jesse who owned all the Jewish womenfolk of his time,
he read the poems of David with heart and head in his Jewish vernacular
this is where he got the poem of agony on the Roman cross
Which he sang; o lord o lord why have you forsaken me ?

he read the Greeks and their diverse stuff in his youth hood anxiety
untill  he clocked twenty-six then his father Joseph the carpenter
succumbed to death caused by typhus others say due to stress of poverty
this is when Mary the widowed was declared a woman of the devil
in the full  observation of the Jewish Bombazine
for her was no option but to stay in the bush for three years
Then the family buck stopped at Christ's s table
in his full capacity as the elder son
in the family of Joseph the late and Mary the widow,
the buck which he goofed to manage
then  his two brothers James and John
chose to scavenge for the means of family survival
through which they became chariot drivers
for the local bourgeoisie Joseph of Aramathea
they left the most young of them Yude son of Joseph
to keep and pamper their bereaved home
which he did but in the  full flare of  his temper
as why Jesus the elder brother roamed around in gadabout bliss
when the home was to be managed by him whatsoever
As the evening came James and John came back home
they found Yude lonely and sombre in the pangs of hunger
they hurriedly set on the table some food for him
the food they had carried from their employer
Joseph of Aramathea; what a fortune so scanty ?
From the blues Jesus surfaced with nothing in his hands
his eyes sunken the salient features of a hungry lazy man
he tried to get a share from the portion of Yude
But whoopsy ! Yude removed the plate and Jesus goofed the psaw !
Yude slapped Jesus with the cyclopic Mighty
as he warned him not to roam around lazily
only to roost  a hungry stomach at  home in the evening
Jesus staggered in a dint of ire and he cursed
to go to Jerusalem for ever not to come back
to which Yude retorted in a riposte;
'You carry way your laziness to Jerusalem
and you will never come back
for the lazy people will never survive in Jerusalem'

Jesus went away after the food based squabble with his brother
he met the twelve friends that he called disciples and one girl friend
Mary his mother's namesake otherwise known as Magdalene
with whom Jesus fell in love with all compassion of a man
in confirmation of the African pearl that ;even the wise and the king
also bend under the pressure of love,
Jesus had no silver nor coins to lavish Magdalene with
in the usual stampede of love among the young ones
But his magics were his  sole resource , he exorcised her free
the seven deadly demons and confirmed to her his protege
of resurrection of which he did free of charge to rise Lazarus
from the grave, Lazarus the brother of Mary Magdalene
as a magnanimous persuasion for  love
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2021
I.

i'm always nostalgic when listening to the Mortal Kombat soundtrack... for a reason only i know... it's not that there was a shopping mall in Ilford (Essex... but there was the inner London border of the A406) so... perhaps: technically still London... i.e.
not Essex...  and it was a predominantly Jewish bit of London... Ilford... Barkingside... Gants Hill would showcase a Hanukkah Menorah on the roundabout: when the roundabout was still fun... as fun as the Gallows Corner roundabout still is... i.e.: no ******* traffic lights... gear up... front gears on 3 (of 3)... back gears on 3 (of 7)... imagining holding onto a fox's tail... or a big ask akin to a truck... line up on the outside of its body so the driver might see you in the rear-view window... what happens before the supposed "white flight" from an area? the Jewry are the first to leave... the Holocaust has sharpened their take on trends... demographic tides... it's not like the rest of the Semites (Ha'ha'king'Raabs) have them in the "good books"... intellect before a hard-on... i'm nostalgic because... i remember what Cranbrook Rd. used to look like... i remember what technology felt like... fiddly... Blockbusters... renting VHS video cassettes... the mantra: please rewind this cassette after watching it... so that the next person renting it will not have to rewind it... hardly a Luddite... i still prefer to fiddle around with cables connected to an MP3 player when cycling... i have nostalgia for late 20th century technology... wires... plugs... VHS... the ******* compact disk... i still have a hoard of those that i burn and "translate" into MP3... the Ilford of my youth... when there was still a visible presence of Jewry... before... once again: the division into the labyrinth of their diaspora... i can't count myself "lucky": or so entrenched... "we": the Polacks... number... at best estimate... around 815,000 on these isles... the Romanians have come... if we're not welcome... we won't outstay our welcome... but what became of Ilford: what it is now... little Bangladesh... i once had an "angel" in the Ilford OurPrice (whittle **** the Branson) started making his money via ****** Records having signed up Mike Oldfield: Tubular Bells or... the Exorcist Soundtrack... or... (the) Halloween soundtrack... in OurPrice i first bought this Mortal Kombat soundtrack... the sheath read (past participle: red... but not like the colour... ergo not reed: to read)... original motion soundtrack by George S. Clinton... i wasn't sold that... i was a whittle Hans back then: i'm still a Conrad... a white blonde beast... beside my still intact blonde moustache that my grandmother decided to call ginger (strawberry blonde)... and if i grow my hair long like a barbarian: a streak of blonde in the hair: ha... the accents of grey appearing... slow so ever slow... how mortality evaporates... caste in a clinging remark for... bones... good thing he... she... looked out for me when buying this CD... i was sold the proper soundtrack...: gravity kills... KMFDM... traci lords, orbital, psykosonik, geezer, sister machine gun, bile, ****** death, type o negative, *****'s day out... that's the first time a proper mistake was made...  second time... when Batman Forever came out... i was still the puppeteer king of solipsism... playing with figurines of superheroes... making random sounds and narrating what my hands were freely left to do: being available... and i wanted the proper... classical soundtrack... not the songs of: seal - kiss of a rose... U2... hold me kiss me, thrill me... i wanted... the OST... for... elliot goldenthal's fledermausmarschmusik... it's just over a minute long... such were the times... boys still played with figurines... i'm not going to blame myself: having ejected the Jewry from Europe... what came after? still people... but... it's hardly the sort of people that one could relate to: great food... hardly a people that will be willing to create Yiddish... yet still speak terrible ******... like my francophobia... i have a fear of speaking French: simply because i will not speak it with a French accent... i'll speak it at best as some Novak Djoković... but once you speak English with... well... i'm not going to spell out Scouser... pretend Essex-lad or Cockney-cockers... just this... generic London cosmopolitan... foreigner hiding a fake native... i can pull it off: but... to speak French... without a French accent? what's the point? it sounds: fair-enough... passable... but i'm used to the psychology of integration... to the point where i'm indistinguishable that a Scottish English teacher will not suspect i'm not an Englishman from the south when talking to me... while insulting two Polacks at a bus-station... hell... my affinity with my fellow ethnic clusters... oddly enough to see ****** first and white second... has to be the case... unlike the trouble in H'america of the collective mr. brown, mr. coco... mr. cinnamon... mr. auburn... but no herr nigeria etc. that's the "problem": if some Arab insinuates i look like a German... my fetish for the deutsche-zunge starts to boil... after all: i write in English but i think about... the migration of the Saxons... no... not the Pomeranians... or the Swabians... or the Rhine-dwellers... Ruthenians? still... that nostalgia for the technology that was available at the end of the 20th century... fiddly technology... none of this current: wireless radioactive ******* makes you want to engage in "things"... ethereal culprits... like that one time when Gants Hill roundabout had an Odeon cinema... by mistake i was sold a ticket to see the Little Princess... i sat through the horror... i was supposed to see Jumanji... but i saw through the horror... watching to old ladies knit... socks? throughout the whole flick... later i imitated Jonathan Edwards running down Coventry Road on a bouncing gallop... i never ran so fast as i did then... come to think of it... little... little princess... Manga... i must say... Manga has been a greater influence on me than Disney could ever be... ウロ津キドジ... obviously you won't find a katakana syllable-unit of TSU... it wasn't hard to find what the alternative was... TSU-NA-MI... TSU - a bit of a hieroglyph... it can't be written as a sound - vowel or consonant... between ア イ ウ エ オ  ン... i remember that summer... when i was eating fried chicken while my uncle was cleaning his Porsche... listening to either Californication by the R.H.C.P... stone temple pilots: art school g/f... or... how did these brats pull off frogstomp... in the assemble of silverchair?! well... TSU- i already arrived at... that ******* pseudo emoji... but how NA-MI became... what it already was...? ナミ? i used to play guitar... i still sometimes do... but when i remember how it sounds... to play silverchair's SHADE... eh... first irksome lesson... Black Sabbath's Black sabbath: let's forget the chords...

D|---------5-----------------------|
A|-----------------4---------------|
E|-3-----------------------­--------|

which is almost "something" akin to...
Atomic Rooster's: death walks behind you...
Deep Purple's: Black Night...
Spirit: when i touch you...
Free's: all right now...

II.

this can't be achieved: purely verbatim... although i'll look for the extract: from unbearable lightness of being - that encounter between Tomas & Tereza... eyes wide shut... slug mouths always open... insatiable hungers & subsequent delights at the relishes... did he prefer to have *** with his eyes closed... or did she... one of them was most certainly looking...

trouble with ***: there's no trouble at all:
i want to see as much as i might be allowed:
i want my eyes to burn...
since... stomaching enough *****:
i will never... exactly... see in 3rd person...
all that happens in a *******...
with one using my well hydrated little richard
and another sitting on my gob
for me to slobber...
all those 3rd person antics of the ****** are missing...
it's not so much fun if there
is that: envious parade of: it takes three to tango...
one will do...
even if i were a king Solomon...
there would always be a Queen Sheba...
there would always be a father:
a King David: the psalm renegade...
what wisdom from a man
with a harem?
ha...                                i'll just
expatriate myself to a time:
a posteriori... i'll detail all the facts...
after the deeds... wisdom for some comes
with a relief at finding regrets...
no Buddha to tow...
i'll die hungering for prostitutes...
Turkish Romanian...
Macedonian...
because... the English girls played
the game of nun...
no offence: but i i read offence
all over what was made available
for the Pakistani groomers of Rotherham...
girl... if you only asked...
i had all the banana skins
the *****... sure... i was missing
the Colombian fairy dust...
excuses, excuses... this Pontius Pilate
punishment of:
i am... to be absolved from the concept
of free will: from agency:
third person authority:
leverage a blame...
what a zombie-riddled life of welcome:
solo-sorrow...

oh hell... please ask the Mongolian horde
to invade the second time:
i have nothing to defend!
what i might have wished to defend is
already available on the free-market!
they're bragging about it...
choking as they go around...
   i'm surrounded by older women
telling me not to marry...
imagine that...
in the trenches during world war I...
there arrived a makeshift brotherhood...
women are ******* unto each other:
watch them starve for a place in an Ottoman
harem... secure... watch them turn into...
cannibalistic chickens in a courtyard of
farm...
where once there was this Jewish
matchmaker witch / aunt...
there's now... a woman who has
a son that married... while she tells her neighbour's
son: not to marry...
no problem... Rachel: RA-KX-EL...

-  oh what a loss of momentum...
that: what happened when pushing too much coagulated
ice into a narrow neck of a glass...
for ms. amber to play catch-up to what
i already arrived at with the wine...
and a sly beer...

oh right... he was looking at: the following list:

- Loch Lomond
- Zodiac (dolly alderton... i can use her
actual name... she uses it... in print)
- Milan Kundera
- *** after 13 years looking: thai surprise etc.
- Zeus: Swan...
- peek-ah-boo... at the barbers

payroll of journalists - poet: what priest?
lackey? the "sensibility" of journalists...
beside the opinion sections of
the weekend magazines...
no... not all the president's men typo... sorry...
type of journalists...
what's left?
simulating depression by:
listening to the hellraiser soundtrack
for a month: finding relief in some other music...

no... i was pretty much depressed for the number
of nights i put on christopher young's soundtrack
for a month... then i switched to the XXs
and some Trentemoller... etc.
i slept less hours... but upon waking i felt a Faroe Island
invigoration...

wait for the bracket: in & out...
most certainly in: "no" out...

- a pre-scriptum technical note: how best to approach this,
what will eventually become a collage
rather than a narrative cascade: column -
since (it) will hardly be worthy of teasing at
a paragraph...

however it will be approached:
it will most probably be approached with that
first: an impromptu by a goliath ****
done in two parts...

idiot me pushing an iceberg of cubes into
a tall weak glass...
obviously pushing them hard enough
to break the glass up
and leave with the index and middle
finger with a deep cut...
then... me writing this...
delayed by... my body to do its magic...
the bleeding to stop...
no... no plaster... no mastic fantastic...
hands washed...
paper towel wrapped around each finger...
applied pressure...

give or take... the time it takes
to "smuggle" 35cl of whiskey into my room...
god... how **** a bottle of liquor looks
in its first minutes out from
a refrigerator...
and when you pour it?
there's no: glug glug glug sound
of the top-head heavy: i.e. full...
it's liquid amber...
any loose liquid would ****** itself
like a cascade from the narrow
spear-head of the bottle neck..
but not ms. amber... sub-zero...

give or take... 10 minutes...
now my fingers are itchy again...

... if you want the proper version... please see
https://allpoetry.com/poem/16014743-two-bleeding-fingers---in-cervisia-felicitas--PENDING...­-UNFINISH-by-Matthew-Conrad
Mateuš Conrad May 2021
at what point wasn't it a way to bypass
the editorial scrutiny...
to directly engage with a reading
public...
why did i think this might be: any good?
i guess i only thought:
i need this out and i can't stash it
like a corpse...
into some damp cellar... like a morally
relativistic monstrosity of a sociopaths'
analogy of: "feels"...
   well, no **** Sherlock!
how i made the following reply...
is beyond me:

- believe me... i had more to write but i felt a sense of restraint... i'd like to see what a terse reply would make you focus on... so i'm scrapping the concept of handicap: heads up... now it all depends what you'll be choosey about... or not... because there's plenty in you reply i could quip about... well... then again: is being witty synonymous with being satirical? i'm not for intelligent / condescending humour on my part... personally i love the dryness of sarcasm... but then again: what's to like about the bluntness of nail-heads? just my take on... what exactly not to like about schadenfreude (what's not to like about schadenfreude)... i'd much prefer a humiliation of a leather gimp suit... so it seems: honesty is the best joke in play... there are too many stereotypes in England too... the best one i heard was by my Glaswegian english teacher in school... ahem... how was copper wire invented? two Scots arguing over a penny... like the stereotypical arsenal of deciphering the Jewry run wild in the realm of the gentiles... with the Scots... being our prized asset of: reverse stereotyping... i guess because knowledge of poor Hebrews is either a mystery or taboo... worse still... a mythology... and here i promised myself restraint... yet i'm experiencing something of a writing block and i... most probably found the most surprising alternative outlet... the eroteme lady - ms. query... so there must be nothing concrete about you... well... i too remember being a teenager prior to 2000 on those hotmail chatrooms where the acronym ASL could get you... all hot & bothered... don't take this the wrong way but i've heard that most writers, poet (i'm a chicken scratching doodler at best) reverted to the medium of correspodence... lucky you, "lucky" that i'm testing the waters on you... but don't worry... i've tested the medium with other people and wondered about their stamina... you are starting to gravitate toward psychiatrist status...  it's so strange though... not writing on abstract... blank... rather: inform sender... it's to them... all that *******, romantic or not... about writing for that one person... sure... **** it... write 'em a letter... don't mind about that trippy-*** poem of yours... you know? apologies if you come across as something of a punching bag for sounds... i hope no typos... well typos can be excused... ah these ****** articles about... wait wait... momentary lucidity... i was going to use some of this in my way of combating my writing block... the troubles in the english language... spelling... "approximation" drop the vowels realise: that's how the Hebrews wrote all along... treating their vowels like diacritical markers... the ****?! i feel like i'm being robbed in plain sight... because Copernicus didn't ******* realise jack-****... they pile it up with their Pope and the execution of ******* Galileo...  ugh... it takes some ******* nerve for these days to allow for this ****-centred kindergarten of events in man's... non-evolving history to continue like some: no ******* dodo exctinction ever took place... (agreed... the following are all faux pas... "invigorations") honey? babe? ms. anonymous gender fluid pronoun neutral... what's the informal, best? ms. avatar ms. harleyquinn the world's stupid? what are american stereotypes of europeans? come to think of it... that cookies is too big to take a bite from... you can't exactly base stereotypes having only seen tourists... since a tourist is a stereotype per se... i'd have to go to california... to get a californian stereotype... to georgia for the georgian stereotype...  wait a minute... Costa Rica... "hint hint"? Latino? that wasn't exactly... it was a fork in the road... the Sephardi... you're working from an avatar canvas... you're making allusions to... what i look like and it's like i'm a mesmerising doppelganger of al pacino... is there a chicago accent? i heard a lot of the ****** diaspora was lodged in that *******... i was terrible at accents... almost always a chamaleon... people still ask me where i'm from... so like this one-stand-up comedian in Edinburgh said... when he was quizzed about the geography of his accent... 'you might recognise my accent... it's... educated'... now that's that... isn't it? i could fake you an indian accent if i wanted to... perhaps a german accent too... but i could fake it... by the way... in these parts... biligualism can be treated as schizophrenia... just saying... somehow integration is not fully deserving the status that: not integrating decides... because... not integrating is... "safety first"... the dodo project alliance...  least of all... i've been dying to by a baseball cap with the Cleveland Indians old logo with chief wahoo... so stereotyping americans... it's beyond hard... it's like stereotyping Russian that are not in the vicinity of Moscow... some are probably Mongol remnants... their own idiosyncratic solipsists to their own... i'll take up my bicycle tomorrow and this drunken tirade will most probably fizzle out... i truly couldn't make up giving a toss about what's internalized americana stereotyping... not that i don't care... i just don't know... the currency of the nation sends me years and years of Ed Gein reinterpretations... what am i supposed to "say"? tomorrow i'll be up early and bothered about my bicycle as if it were a horse... but i'll still want to retain gravity with leaving you with this frankness of a reply... lobster-red probably implies if not simply implores: ginger and freckles... i like to think of suntans as serpents shedding skin... i suntan i'm a copperneck... i like the german sound on this... plus... it's readily available as compounded: kupfernacken... what's better? auburn-tease? kastanienbraunecken? i like the joy you feel with what you already prescribed me with.. that i know so little about you... that while i'm prodding you withhold giving me concreteness.... concreteness would allow me... disadvantage me to focus on "things" that are absolutely not necessary... so: i can focus on whether i'm not being pedantic enough and: misspelling...so... what's the stereotype surrounding Alaskan gurls?!

- thanks for being ascribed in getting my "mojo" back...for now...

- What do you mean? I'm surprised this is the shortest message you've sent. I was getting used to your drunk musings. [I say this with a smile but I know you don't like emojis or silly acronyms, and writing out "laugh out loud" sounds ridiculous... after all, you know how important sounds are to me].

- you just asked one of those questions that... is aligned with asking... 'what are you thinking'? the moral 'ought compass waved me a goodbye and if i haven't broken any laws to pursue the sort of freedom of though i currently enjoy... bypassing the need so stress a "freedom" of speech... writing is an extension of thought: not a prompt / invitation to speak... i'm surprised that you scrutinise the length of my replies... and were we to begin with? in the "easily offended" pile-up? well i'm still getting drunk... you're still an avatar mystery... but at least i'm waging a war on prosaic sobriety to boot... i guess i had to come clean at some point... i never write sober... i don't see the point of being: disengaged from the genuine (a longer version of a one word would have sufficed... but i'm lazy about the spelling... while at the same time... there's this critical theory approach done in some of the newspapers about english spelling... let's see if i get it right... dis-in-genius... for starters... disengenous.. horrid... aaah so terrible... dis-less-advantageous... disadvantageous... oh **** me... i wriggled into that one: all sound and proper...why ask me: what do i "mean"? - it's not that i don't like emojis (well, i don't) but... what the hell... there are better hieroglyphs to focus on than chiseled into pyramid stone: own... happy face... the Chinese were doing ******* x-ray gizmo **** at almost the same time... it's a focus loss... don't even get me started that *** = a Parisian hello with tendering the cheeks with... a labyrinth of smooches... my lips are my pouches blah blah blah... you seem to be enjoying my rants... i gather? i don't even know why to bother with an ask (question doesn't even do justice to how i'm framing this)...  you want to write as little as possible to properly excavate me... well no surprise... if light can't bend around corners... i'll have a look: none-the-less... emphasis on the hyphens... this poor down-trodden word could be helped with some "breathing space"; no? i "mean": 霜... shoo-aang... frost... i have dancing skeletons throwing toothpicks at chopsticks pilled up in an area of pine wood... look at this sort of *******... and here we are... cradling one of the old languages with "holes in letters"... to peer through... O now i see... B: otherwise: ha, ha ha ha... what's **** in Chinese? the Greek prized π... but what P & I look like for a farting, mandarin? hey presto: "@"... not even a western concern for "patriarchy" could have complicated: what's already too complicated... a billion people... a wall... that didn't keep out the Mongols from invading... yet a phonetic encoding system that... would topple each and every pyramid... from Giza to the cleaving of South America from Africa that can be staged at some Aztec "miracle"... i am writing (to) you like a bewildered person... because: why wouldn't i otherwise not be? so what do i mean? hmm... what's that holy trinity of statistical terms... mean... meridian... mode? i think i remember correctly... thank god i'm not going to apologise for being drunk... i've heard the stereotypes of drunkards with no future for thirst... the other thirst... the thirst for something beside their own handicap... i'd also duly convert to Islam too... i was cycling past a mosque and heard the most impossible sound of praise that will never escape me... but by the bottle i did: closer to the Jewry i am... contradictory how that is... don't want to stop drinking... uncircumcised... it's a really magical juggling act that's littered with self-deprecating humour interludes... aligned with norse mythologies... grr... **** me... now i'm attempting to "sell" you a makeshift tinder profile sketch... don't know... never will... never used: don't ask...  but i forgive you... for asking me: what does "it" all mean? it means we're for the thrill of it... it makes sense if we're still gagging for it... and we're not exposed to old-age closure cinematic scripts of solo cinema of memory... i like typing because i have itchy fingers... you'd probably like to hear me speak... no? it's exactly 20 minutes past midnight and i have a date with a bagel at 9am tomorrow morning... i still want another injection of truth in me before i do the  lady nox some justice and sleeping with her fiendish daughters... i mean... who does that... wake you up with a hard-on? never mind... i don't even know how to end this "convo": it can't be with a farewell... or an adieu... or a サヨナラ... oh wait... that's "goodbye, forever"... how does one end a half-way between a musing and a real person on the replying end of "things"... i guess like this: NARA... ナラ... short for narazie...  translated from my mutterzunge as: perhaps loosely... for the time being... for now... how else... to end my tirade?!

- So let me get this a bit straight (as straight as a stray arrow, that is): you only write when you're drunk (I'm the luckiest one to be at the listener - or reader in this case - end of your tirades as you call them... I call them musings); you have a fixation with words, even the ones that you don't know how to spell correctly (except maybe in a language I don't know so I can't really tell), you didn't answer why I'm ascribed to getting your mojo back (where did it go?), and you wake up with a hard-on. Got it!

- i've been lodged into a backlog: ******-town sort of: stalling... give me a few hours... although: ever wonder what: giggles sounds like... in the deafness of the night? i do... i want to reply you like so... like now... like this... maybe i will... maybe i will not... i'm gaging to buy one of those cleveland chiefs baseball caps...the grinning siouxsie chieftan....perhaps i want to relearn "how to": take the GRIN... a little bit more... seriously... no? **** it... i'm drinking as it is... i want to reply you in full throttle... straight arrows... and the welsh V of the longbow-men too to boot... chopsticks straighter... "straighter"... i tend to only write when i'm drunk... i abhor sober prosaic intimidation and... all the lies, subsequently...sober people don't get "drunk" on moral relativism of white lies? and i'm born yesterday, no? you openly venture into... a quest of question within the regards... of being... this only.... i almost wanted you to feel this sort of... an alienating increment... of... how i might pile on more detail... they are musings... i don't take them seriously... about as much relax as is a required: necessary.... i have a fixation with words... jurisprudence to me is merely a game of thesaurus ploy-tow... i spell i don't spell... i'm overtly pedantic... i also felt queasy when testing my eyes at an authentic testimony of the "law"  being "exaggerated"... "tested"... "proved"..i must have: lying eyes... no other eyes do see... no? i have a fixation with "things" beside the usage of ***** and strobe lighting...

you have my attention... don't you? you know... the last time i attempted having a conversation... i was too naive...too young... everything "everything" applied itself to being too predictable... i want to love again: but being in love is almost a weakness... i don't feel like being weak... i guess this is where the rekindling of my "mojo" ends... hello cul de sac...

new paragraph... ever hear(d) of the alpha and the omega "man"? i'm pretty sure you heardf of mr. beta... for all the worth of a totality of... man... i'm last... i'd forever be... last... i don't want to be first... i also don't want to be 2bd sniffing **** and crab-meat-... either...

give me the totality... i'll be satisfied with a "question" of
last... hence the expression: omega man...
didn't hey-zeus say?
i'm the alpha and the omega?

i don't write sober, i'n afraid i might lie...
you're not lucky,..
but you're also not... godzilla....

i "somehow" haven't ascribed you with the sort of details of: explanation that would allow you... to satiate yourself with answers... as to how... why... yllu managed to "mojo" probe me back to life? you.. the Faroe Islands to begin with? you know... they have this gimmick... on the Faroe Isles... it's not a gimmick... it's called// i don't know what's it called... skúvoy? but i'm happy to tease when the whales are slaughtered... the the blood comes a running: the lions also... apparently tease with a yawn... look at this word, though: grindadráp....

ever catch the giggle im der nacht? nein? too italian... no? ******* borrowed pollack: the self-depreciating... loan... not load... of bollocking...

don't believe yourself as being the sole recepient of a reply...

you're not lucky... you're just... available...

terribly botherome... isn't, it?

- i thought i'd make this a two tier reply... it would be a shame to reread what i wrote on one of my "escapades"... perhaps this... hanging-over... ha'h... more like hung, drawn & quartered some time to time... but believably sane, pleasantly morose - at evens with masochism... so reclining into a moral trip-up... i probably mentioned grindadráp - since i still have the window open on the phrase i'm familiar with... Sámal Joensen-Mikines... i most probably ended up giggling in the night... god... i'm just skim reading what i wrote... well good to know that i can only the best thing and sober up: simultaneously returning to a more rigid, conventional... formal use of language: that i might suppose i'm in a confessional booth... a welcome mirage for the time being... while i decide to wither away watching the old firm (a derby soccer match between celtic & rangers)... of note... i had this argument with the natives so time ago... the... Celts... but it's the Boston / Glasgow Çeltics... no? you're a girl that likes sounds... i've been following this current discussion that has reached the heights of printed newspapers... citation, sian griffths (gwif-if-if-ififs) education editor: new spelling ROOLS to make english more predictable for pupils... "we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the feelds..." see... i really admired Charlie Bukowski for a while... until he came out as a lazy slob who would require an editor to correct his spelling... there's dyslexia and there's just plain: hash-browns... for all my worth of idiosyncrasy that i wriggle in as i go along, most of which will not find common ground and a cosmopolitan outlet of users... for me, as someone who acquired this tong'u: i've grown fond of how aesthetically messy this toong can become and how readily available this messiness is... even London can become a ****-joke: Loon'dune... in my mutterzunge sounds are more distinct... apart from the graphemes sz, ch, cz, rz (ż) - i'd have to borrow from a Czech a caron to hide a letter or two: š (sz / the equivalent SHarp in english) and č (cz / CHatter respectively)... all these unique sounds... ą, ę, ć, ń, ó, ś, ź - Wombat ł... anyway... i just thought, sobering up... that you'd like to have a certain bulging volume of fudge to return to... before i take another dive into ms. amber and pass another night as w. h. auden wrote: only the hitlers of this world write at night... sure... herr auden... because the day is for watching football and / or cycling.

- à propos: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-L5iefl2QtA

- If you share music can I? I'm sorry that I didn't reply sooner. It's been a **** last week and this week isn't any better yet. I like reading your messages, drunk and sober. When I write in my native language I use the accent over the vowels to emphasize the second-to-last vowel of a word. I love speaking, reading and writing in my native language, though I'm sure that I know much less than you would about languages. Shall we continue talking about sounds? How about sounds in my language? Of course, you have to guess if you haven't already.

- mind you: i had second thoughts about writing this reply... perhaps you can judge for yourself... i'm just not into having double-mystery encounters with an "avatar"... plus i made an emphasis on the point... what music were you not going to share?

sure... but first share your music... i have this thirst for Nick Hornby's high fidelity and being a teenager again... a teenager in love, again...i was probably the most happy-go-anywhere sort of person when i found a vinyl copy of Wardruna's kvitravn in my local HMV... which is: sunrise records and entertainment ltd trading as hmv & fopp.... given i already have the other chapters on cd - copied into mp3... (runaljod - yggdrasil & gap var ginnnunga)...  and given it's so rare to fnd a vinyl of this calibre... that some vinyls comes with an mp3 link... i thought: hell... i'll give this record the proper 3D aura treatment and not listen to it on headphones... or utilise it to "conquer" space... & just walking with it across a market sq. without a plastic bag to stash it in... i might as well have walked with a cat on my shoulder... because... who the hell still buys... well... invests in vinyl? now... coming to the language...second-to-last vowels of  word... you know... you can keep me interested without overplaying this "mystery" game... isn't the use of an avatar enough? i really can't comprehend a language that focuses on second to last vowels... without focusing on vowels: per se... just to reiterate... you didn't share a link to some music... you pitted yourself as American... i can continue being interest without having too many enigmas to sort... i have yet to find a language that only applies accents to, e.g. suppOsE... or maybe i'm just too ignorant to have come across a language that behaves in such a way: unless it's some idiosyncratic variation (of it)... you don't have to remain a complete mystery to me for me to keep engaging... there can be some sort of rooting in reality... otherwise i'll just return to my original purpose of writing: staging myself against a blank canvas and a barrage of sounds that i'll need to "un-spaghetti" into linear streaks.... i'm not going to guess: you'll either tell me or not... i'm currently listening to snake-pit poetry: einar selvik... any one can have a ****** week... for a while i was anticipating you testing whether or not i'd reply not getting a reply from you... and that, somehow, miraculously... i'd continue to creep-up to teasing you again... perhaps that's me dabbling in misnomers... no... you'll need to give me something concrete... i'm already starting to itch with a sensation that i better return to the canvas than keep this conversation... no offence... it's just draining me when something abstract could also be doing: likewise... but it wouldn't end up being a ****-tease... i could possibly create something out of it... not just so more: oh... oh? ** **: what's next?! i know when it becomes a brain-drain... a side project... it has to come with an excuse whereby you'll probably recoil with: but i had a ****** week... granted... but who hasn't...  you could have waited another week until participating in the timeframe of the passing of weeks started to feel good once more... if you only dropped a music suggestion... otherwise... thanks... but... no... this conversation is going nowhere... i think i'm just relocating my writing block elsewhere... all the best: in keeping an aura of mystery... within the realm of avatars and non-accountability... come to think of it... no... this is as fair as i could be.

this supposed "unique" specimen... not really...
i want to focus on what allows me to belong:
beside the unfathomable landmarks
of trees and mountains:
roaming stars that even my demented
grandfather corrected himself on...
satellites... no... roaming stars?!
well... i didn't conjure this **** out of my own
*** for pleasure, either...

back towards... falling asleep while listening
to the Hellraiser soundtrack:
hellbound...
because eerie is how:
i how how: "things"...
i'm so alone at times that it's beyond making
sense: it's about infringing on a god-stature...
status... this omniscient
contradiction that some Elijah bundled up
into... two crows croaked...
the tower of London can entertain 6:
so the king's ******* and the queen's
jewels are left intact...
for the successor to worry about...

we have these conversations but too bad
the girl is playing timid...
and i'm... gargantuan...
the length of a tongue that turns into an eel...
hands like octopus extension...
i could wrap her up in... bubblewrap
and start the puncture pinch-pinch ceremony
of not seeing the bubble float: up-up...

i have a sense of ego like...
a bad l.s.d. trip?!
****-guage-abuse? gauge? sort the ones
for the snoozing zero-toasts
and you have yourself
a new jersey smart: bite-off... not bit... though...

i could never have children:
not because i could never be a good father:
but i'd be a terrible husband...
how do i "know"?
i would never allow myself
to earn the amount:
she'd want to spend...
via solo: i'll spend on ms. cojack amber
and some ******* liquorice vinyl...
and a bicycle...
rubber-teasing: ****-teet-****....
when using the brakes...
when minding my ******* "luck"
on a roundabout with a massive twuck...

plus i'd love to **** more...
i'd love to **** as much more as
the thought-"taboos" discourage me
from doing... so it's a nice adventure: thinking
the next: moral antagonist, antithesis
of "could i"?
central theme? Lo-li-t'ah...
and i'm the second from third removed
uncle of the marquis de sade...
you want... you need... you have to orientate
yourself around the last taboo...
the one that's not associated with...
crispy clean antics of those *******
in their savvy leather gimp suits etc.

"power to the people": *******...
power to who owns what...
i'm starting to conjure up
profanities akin to:
but at least when they owned slaves...
they took care of their slaves...
they wouldn't want a slave to be rotten...
to be despondent...
trouble with freedom is...
my own, self-made... man...
if i were a slave...
i'd learn to bend the rules...
i'd entertain the fantasy of freedom...
while being constrained with...
all the benefactor securities...
i'd be owned but i'd also be:
obligated to a social contract of some sort...

so freely as to nothing be:
so averaging assumptions...
presumptions... so by nothing i unfree myself:
to... sort of quest to: "be"...
while the priestly class held back literacy...
within the timeframe of when
a new literacy emerged... of coding...
so double-up-on-surds... no?

herr gizmo l:)(}{
the realm of the three brackets... )}]...
one literacy replaced the old literacy
but in terms of retaining the old type...
the new type is... not exactly allowing
for movement of... hearts? is, it?
i still have to retain punctuation...
i still need need to perfect it...

but this is not conversational linguinie,
is it?
i stand firm in, stressing:
writing is an extension of thought...
writing is an extension of thought:
it's hardly an invitation to speak...
the past centuries haven't taught us
that literacy is a constraining beast of priests'
fancy?
let me... detail my limbs for you
in stressing this point further:
what good came from the project
of literacy en masse?
graffiti scribbling on brick walls?
out of what beside desperation?

such constraints were employed as
to: the person exercised in completely body:
usage... wouldn't feel like
a ******* hamster of a ******* ferris wheel
when push came to shove...
somehow everything physical became
lesser class: demeaning...
somehow we all turned into *******
fluorescent
      telepathic / telekinetic Chernobyll
monkey sorts...
and the fat "stigmata" is a what?
                  
  this world is gagging for something tragic...
this world is gagging for a world war III...
but... it probably will not...
"advise" itself to experience such a disatrous take
on prospect...
nuance in language can go **** itself...
application of misnomers for added fluidity can:
go **** itself...
you ever come across a choir...
and a great wind...
see a ******* shrink...

don't look at me for inspiration:
perhaps some jokes...
i've been more honest these past two minutes than
i ever was in the passing of a decade...

death the limbo of "sanity"...
esp. when someone memorable has taken off...
who am i left with? "perspectivelly accountable"?
grey-matter fiddle-through middle-man
*******... no?
i'm not sifting through that, murk?
perhaps i'm sieving... sifting... sieving...
sifting... sieving... get a dog! she says, mother, dear...
i tell her: it's legal in Belgium...
her father already cited his complaints...
i'm tired of the ******* optimism...
i'm tired of this "adventure" some cling to when
deciphering "life"...
an overrated statement of too many facts:
that's life...
it's not a ******* frank sinatra:
come as we are... would be: mea culpa...

troublesome sufferings of a tired brain...
too many pop ref. points worth of closure...
i bought a vinyl today...
i walked it down a market place
like it was a puppy...
in a rucksack...

that there's a hope... my mother is crying
this silent agony of truth...
i tell her: it's sensibly legal in the Benelux...
England is ****** by all accounts...
a dog will save me?
i'm becoming rigid... brick-esque...
tide-prone...
moon is the mother of my skies...
i might might what?
fall in love: to fall in love is to allow
oneself to be weak; to be... dependent on
someone: the concept of "other"... no?
recurrrency is pricing on how many times
that's... sensible to try out?
before it fails?

i fall asleep listening to horror movie music...
i'm best coupled to a ******* hyena than
i am to a woman...
to live under a false sense of hope
is a: welcome bypass to otherwisse living
under a truancy of truth...
as the life around me shrinks...
the abounding shadow of me grows...
and not as a patriarch...

oh ****... "i simply, somehow...
just so it happens... fowgot to... encapsulate this
offload whiff a wyme".
Mateuš Conrad May 2021
for those yet, imagining themselves alive...
i "kwa'ight"....
quiet... quite...
         acquitted...
if there's a rock to be lived
under:
i'll just be the rock... i once had a faint
notion that i was alive...
i had what might be congested in a summary:
a thirst... a willingness...
summary and all those
broken things... "things"...
within the enraged solo
projects of solipsists...
self-"betterment" up a cul
de sac... has... infiltrated my
breathing: crease... count in german:
eins zu zehn
jeden do dziesięć...
   kurwa jebana mać...
poor traffic... thd ******* blinkers are
on... a turning right done awry...
ein(s)... one... jeden...

eine ein eins jeden raz one
zwei dwa two
drei trzy three
vier cztery four
fünf pięć five
(pięść is a denotes a fist... a faust)
sechs sześć six
sieben siedem seven
acht osiem eight
neun dziewiendź nine (nein nein)
zehn dziesięć ten....

mind you...
be drop the pointless diacritical marker
on the iota... we'd see more "punctuation"
markers: where, otherwise: we wouldn't...

i congested myself with counting
in three languages to somehow...
ease-up...
ten? informant: he / him!
ta? informant: she... shimmy(?!) her's...
hisses of his'...

i will not bring the Iberians into
this discussion...
what's left, though? scraps
of language and language policing...
******* and bells...
twang... death to the ditto... blah blah:
bleach and mythological blondes...
scraps i do one job good for you...
most... better... will not trace lineage...
no smear...

          t"they" never think less of
the Yugoslavs... i'm tired of being a punching bag of a people...
of all "people": the Irish not 'ard enough to
challenge the English have to find...
come the Soviets come the Nazis simultaneously...
looks like integrating into English society
didn't allow me to forget...
this zunge doesn't erase the ******* blows...

rich, though... no surprise that the Reesh
would squander and throw their *******
potatoes like monkey **** at...
oh i guess: shelved "life"... peoples...
if i were living back among my brethren...
i don't think i'd be living at all...
what would i do with not being
agitated concerning... minor... qualms?

the ******* leprechauns... priests...
are less than the english...
but are somehow tier above the pollacks?
it's no offence when it sounds proper...
in a foreign babble...
dzida...

          i'd just ask the Eire son...
so... ahem... where's your ******* Celtic?
gone... non-existent?

aon, dhà, trì, ceithir...
   còig (what's wrong with co'ig?)
sia,
seachd, ochd... naoi... deich...
so the grapheme CH = X of greek origin...
a ******* hark?

the Irish like the ******* Arabs...
the British did this to: oos...
it's impossible to live with these
go-to-party "solipsists" to begin with...
integrate? into... or for what?
rot? that's a-plenty...
but when some spaghetti monsters
and those potato jargon-fiddlers start
their usual **** about a fellow
european people...

it's not like the Croats or the Serbs are
ever mentioned...
they vent to h'america and youz zee...
zese irish and italliano guinnea pig-me-ups...
kwoss-eyed... you know...
best bitterest better...
inbreeding... takes a chunk of coal...
chalk and cheddar...
mustard...

  inbreeding mentality... superiority complexes...
no reimagines parmesan cheese like
it's not... shredding... old skin
off of heels...
talk stinkiny witchy with a missing R...
this massive ******* gloat of "riddle"...
that suppose: it's also a man...

       while the world... "also" happens...
these little: belittling interferences...
as if we were all supposed to be crowned kings
or queens... it's not that i'm even elevated
above these concerns...
but that i must have them...
must: if i were a king... i most probably wouldn't
even entertain the sense of hearing
on their existence!

in a society of sociopaths and solipsists...
a massive get together
of protest happens once in a while...
i get drunk and dump ****** words
onto paper...
i'm not alone in this "adventure":
yet i'm beginning to be...
more and more sorry for having
such... indigestions to sorrow over...
moral relativism is out
in the words of the choicest
of the choiciest...
   i'm looking for something beside
the superlative adjective: choicest...
the diminutive "concern"...

which doesn't exist in english...
and i can't exactly introduce it using my:
mutterzunge either...
correct spelling?
look at it... choiciest vs. choicest...
the most most choosey...
to pick of calculus exponentially incremental
details of observable shifts...
the exponential aspect of detail...

how many of the Irish still speak
their Gaelic...
apparently there's a Scotch version
of the tongue...
but... the Scots will not speak it...
completely submerged in their union...
they'll just exfoliate in how distinct
they are from a Loon'don'er
speaking the same language...
you could probably rewrite trainspotting
using that linguistic language
embedded in the dictionary
of:

   how i met your mother, the mute...
/ (haʊ) /
       / (aɪ) /
                 / (mɛt) /
               / (jʊəp) /
                               / (ˈmʌðə) /,
                        / (ðə) /          / (mjuːt) /

i wonder... and what if we started writing
like this? proper... phonetically...
like linguists?
the side note of /(x)/ though...

the written word is doubly ambiguous...
to the point of no return concerning
the sufficiency of its practicality of use...

ʃeɪk  ænd
                ˈʃætə...

if i had the time and *******' worth of
writing a poo'em like a linguist...
if i had more love for the Irish...
sowwy... all love spent on the Scots...
from these Isles at least...

sheikh who? shake your: *****?
that's ******* fwank zapp'ah...
      
but it's not that... i have qualms with
the Irish over the stature and seriousness
when occupying the "underground"...
i won't rap: god forbid i...
"**** someone": my catchphrase
wouldn't be:

allahu akhbar... it would be that teutonic chant
of: gott! mit! uns!
if that Norwegian hyper-smart terroroist
chanted those words...
what words? these words:
gott! mit uns!

   but around these isels...
you'd think there might be a sense of solidarity...
among the catholic irish and the
catholic poles...
but no... tępy ajrysz...
  blunt-irishman...
                  one side arguing for the other sides
dislodging of "i.q."...
same with those spaghetti swindlers...
the...

mind you... ****** is not a racial slur...
it's actually better to denote a pole a ******
since... not kinh john: lackland...
the whole hiss-tow-stowwy...
i'm not pole: positioned...
i'm not...

    divorced from "my" people:
and the "mother" land...
                  Warsaw the last great end-venture...
keeping it up...
mawa: little old gone...
         in the hunch fabric of
lessening the diaspora approach...
you don't think i mind the missing links...
when there's a collected agenda for the purpose
of a purge of the intelligensia...
now... because only the Jewry suffered
a historical lineage of tonguies
towing complaints....

         **** it: the russian sayingly... newly invented:
**** me?! ******* too!
but in the english realm who's the lesser
******* among the polacks and the irish?
who's less gingerbreadman?
my side... most probably...
how will we ever let the 20th century become
past?
oh **** me... we will need another
war... but chances of that are...
sort-of-slim...

             no? it might begin with:
bypassing loan-words...
and how self-help gurus and famous psychologists
refrain from infiltrating lost hybrids of
focus, that there might be a clearaance to
discover society outside the realm of pop!
saavvy?
i don't like this...
psychological testimony of:
what's an alpha male?
not me... what's a beta male?
not me... what's a malaise?
what's an omega man?
everything that an alpha male is...
in that... there's an antonymous discharge
of needs... requests...
demands...

how many Irish still speak their...
diego / alfonso magic "whisker" ****?
that ******* Gaelic?
so much for aardvark "typo" in Scotch...
because it just so happens...
you speak an over exfoliation of lettering...
the aesthetically bogus: claim of...
no... no "originality":
i'm not even going to bother the higher
tier of diacritical markers to
instigate "something"...

but this whole: i'm a lesser "european" when
it doesn't suffice in north american parlance...
i'm sort of... em.... ******* bothered?
history seems to be a lesson
in teasing small-**** and the infinite
summary of infancy... last time i heard...
because the Mongols never made it to... "x"...
because the Turks never had ownership of Vienna...
because it took both the Nazis and the Soviets
to make me bow...
in England? the invention of snooker...
tennis... football... rugby...
bored people... obviously...

how: else: woudln't you have capacity...
need... to invent so many coliseum...
distractions to mind: and take seriously...
if you knew: you were an island dwelling folk...
and you staged your pride in not being
invade-prone...
a bit like the whole of east London's
pakistani-land...

wake up 40 years from now... from...
little bengali land...
the Pakistani grooming gangs of the supposed...
while i'm getting more and more irrritated
by paying for ***...
having Bulgarian ****** pretending to be
Romanian....
you see the grit in my use of teeth that aare never used to
nibble and conjure...
a "drying of bones"?

i will complain about the Irish as i will about the
tail-tan'ohs...
******* spaghetti slurppers...
we of the same European origins and the same
brain-drain... because the anglo-saxons
fiddled out a mechanism for...
a "coming together"... of...
a people... just like germany was confederated...
into a federality...
wow!

  the pope receding... on paper...
the Irish make complaints against the Polacks...
the Irish demean the Polacks...
nice nice... here's to me equipping myself with
Haitian "nouns"...
you, *******... ginger: knuckle-fiddle-numb...*****!
what Celt wishes himself to have
a Cyrillic ancestry?! almost all...

have your little i.r.a. memento...
       i'm only concerned about
a pomeranian, conrad... quest...
aren't the czechs / hungarians locked into
that... posit of being: without an access to
a "window"... hardly... that the baltic...
already is... Samaritan....

porsch monkey: among the slurrs... "poet"...
pshek in... denotative lingo...
it's a: thank you...
i call you worse:
    karot... burak... syberik....

thankful though: it's hardly a slur...
king John was known as lackland...
given the shrinking of the Angevin empire...
thus "we"... shrunk to the duchy of warsaw:
a satellite of Napoleon's ambitions...
then the Warsaw Pact...
pandering to the Bolsheviks...
blah blah: now more pandering to
woke ha-ha-h'americanacancan...
the mythological blonde: always on my mind...

the first words in my language
they managed to speak and they somehow managed to
call it a slurr... and polish: paul-leash isn't?
pole position, heading north?

say strawberry in ******?
TRU-S-KAWKA...
     paul's on a leash of nibbling on the quarters
and halves of would be barons of pandemonium...
we were teenagers once...
and once upon in an Ilford mall...
we bought compact disks...
rival schools... fugazi...
coal chamber's dark days...

  those where somewhat architecture days,
though...
you can't make this **** up...
you probably have had to live it, sort of.

- otherwise who can't forget the flight of the Jewry
from the area...
once there was a makeshift synagogue on
Coventry Rd.,
now there's a 7th day evangelical war band
gathering pulpit... source...
i was expecting a mosque: in all honesty...
it's a common suggestion:

now first comes the flight of the Jewry...
the whites are somehow 2nd...
but as i explained to my mother today...
i feel sick in a monochromatic...
homogeneous society...
i went to Cheltenham once...
to hussle my own self-published book...
i felt ill seeing so little minority
representation...
it's not like i'm brainwashed...
but among these minorities in Loon-dune
i'm a ******...
back in Warsaw i'm a feral animal...
among "my people" i'm zero-punkt-zero-nic...

the vagabonds of the world decide to congregate
in Loon'don... for some reason: ulterior or
altogether "other"...
the world has congregated:
is this still about the English having their
nationhood infringed?
perhaps from a perspective
of the Midlands... Birmingham...
but over 'ere...

funny that... i live in England...
but i probably interacted with more Irish
and more Scots than the supposedly
demographically first...
i probably encountered more Pakistanis too...

so what's the difference between
a Samaritan and a Sarmatian?
you're running? i thought i ran...
i might run... who's running?
is it raining?
is that... ****'ite iconoclasm?
sign me up...
            
but living among the Irish who are
not living in Ireland...
a tired old bunch... sometimes...
it's hard to fathom their identity crisis
since a whole swab of them
spoke a zilch of Gaelic...
it's like with these over-impressed
succcess stories of "integration"
from olive-pound land /
****** copper...

the parents want to integrate...
that **** backfires...
the grandson retains the tongue
to his grandma to speak
back to her her native...
yet his... "in-between"... "integrational english"
becomes a sick joke: stereotype...
almost a cul de sac accent...
the sort that has to breathe into a phrase:

oi oi! bown and bwead!
  em... bone and bread?
how does that work?
i guess it must work "miracles" from places
where the ingestion of gelatin is
foreign... transcending "foreign":
too alien to compose...

yes... detailing the promises of pork, pig...
the most economically sound
animal: beside the hoofs...
you can utilise almost... "almost": all of it...
one way of the other...
an animal that can never be a waste:
unless you're into dabbling into a cannibalistic diet...
plus... lamb... lamb: *******: stinks...
the aged lamb...
plus... how would you herd pigs...
pigs aren't herded...
it's a theological anger at...
camel-jockeys being unable to... harvest
the only potential of farm-food... via the pig...
pigs aren't herded:
i've only heard of a herd of pigs
and that's when there came a time
to treat a trough like an array of teats when
the porkies were 'ung...
is it a despised animal?
a despised animal because:
and the devil reimagined himself as a pig?

so god looks like a mythological blonde...
the devil looks like a piggish minotaur...
why this demise of pig?
why this gratification in the islamic mirror
of words looking accessible: i.e. dog | god...
my all mighty: allah: blah-lah...
fork in the road: are we 'appy... "now"?

but when you live among the diaspora of the Irish...
you'd sort of suppose... what's the gaelic for green?
now that the internet is here...
i can find out for myself...

why demean the pig? was the pig created by
the ******* devil?
or is this one of those Abrahamic ploy-toys...
rigidity structures...
to leave you surrendered...
go against anything else: beside the pig...
it's such an economic model, creature...
you can utilise almost all of it...

not all of us were born Afghan sheep
herders... savvy?
that eating pork is somehow signature
of inbreeding and s schizoid tinture...
wh'ah?! i lost the TAU along the way...
o.k.?!

it's a waste of time having arguments
with... oh forget: rag-muffin'...
inbreds... i wass thinking about ***...
i picked a spot... Rotherham...
Pakistani grooming gangs...
oh... right... here's a lollipop... here's some dosh...
i'll get a hard-on with a girl who didn't mature
into prostitution wtih a crack-******* 'abbit...

chances of me ******* low i.q. is like
zilch then? i imagine the tirades...
the knife-insinuations...
**** a barrister: **** for life...
settle down: solve **** concerninng:
immmovaable objects:
the sun still has "egotism" to rise
and call it tomorrow...
and her ******* own too: to boot...
imagine that!

why go after the pork 'n' pie?
why pet a dog?
why pet a cat?
     i've already mentioned...
sometimes lamb: just stinks...
lamb kidneys?
STINK... SCHTINK!
but you also can't keep pigs
in an environemnt where you also use
camels instead of horses... no?
no one is talking about this...
because... it's probably too obvious to have
to stress this ******* argument....

came the Ottomans... the Mongols...
the Soviets for a while...
came the Nazis...
why weren't we the people who championed
each other at snooker...
why didn't we invent football...
tennis... cricket...
rugby... i don't want to blame the English
for their race...
but they have been privileged in:
intra-"whiteness" terminology...

what English soldier ever stood ground
on ****** soil?
i've heard of ****** pilots having dog fights
for the battle of Britain...
how the enigma machine was not merely
the work of Turning...
etc. etc.
gravesend: i'm here reduced to "biasing"...
yet i'm giggling at the remote prospect
of "gravity"...

i have clues to concern myself over...
ownership...
          a hierarchy of a cascade...
time follows time...
this solo project of "individuality"
was never going to... "work"...

pending...

   connlach dearg...

    but the welsh still speak welsh... no?
i guess that Carlsbeg moment of:
probably the best'ly integrated people in
the world... the Welsh are...
they still exfoliate in having a punching bag
of their tow-tongue...
unlike that most, supposed... oppressed people
of the... anglophonic world affair...
the Reesh that speak no ditto of Gaelic...

who are, you, you people?!
For all of them, greatness ekes not on goodness,
but on mysterious and spectacular humility,
semitism  cradled from epileptic Tehra,
Hebrewism from Abrahamic despair,
Jewry from shrewd Israel of Isaac,
Christianity from lame footed jesus,
Islam from an epileptic desert oat;Muhammed,
Africanism from warped emotionalism,
Hinduism a mere avatar of godly imaginations
all these calls for a pious dejavu
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2016
you know, ego-tripping is one thing,
but tackling religious affairs is an another high
altogether, there's no involved involved,
not enough phonetic encoding,
people made more from the New Testament
than they did of Heidegger's being and time,
wait... i might just squeeze in seeing the light.
i see the light almost every night,
and i'm not even a physician,
i'm not awe inspired with all these facts
hanging about, hard to practice philosophy these days,
it an instilled bewilderment having to
placebo ignorance for that spark, original ******.
it was never about giving a ******* an ******
at £110 an hour without faking it,
god it hurt her, hurt her for enjoying her professions,
******* **** just got relegated....
after her ****** and kissing her hand
she just just the owl's ouch... it's hard to get a *******
to enjoy her work, every time i pull my *******
back and pretend to be all Jewry -
of course i'm not really enjoying it, but she is...
you get the picture, a ******* having pleasure
on her working hour while the 100th **** comes
to grease a beginning of the day song;
i payed extra to perform oral *** on them...
you think i stashed my tongue into a ******?
i prefer rare steaks; or *****.

now the confusing bit...
i was born in a zeitgeist that needs revision,
a book published in 1953 by a Swiss psychiatrist
did nothing to postpone the uncovering of
the Antichrist, simply sped up discovering
anti-matter, Nietzsche, as the Polish proverb
states: silent rivers being silent increase the girth...
we know the Antichrist himself stated lived...
hence the zeitgeist.... the pop culture of
the event, i was born into this *******;
and if i didn't go to a Catholic school i'd write
you a piece about how romantically complicated
really was. there's on problem, i'm telling you this
straight from a donkey's gob slobbering -
it's confusing reading Nietzsche then reading
C.G Jung's 1953 published book entitled
answer to Job - it really is, given popular culture's
hopes entitled: plagiarism.
the book involves another diabolical figure
in the arithmetic - the Paraclete -
and boy isn't he the diabolical figure -
he's the good bad bad guy - the Paraclete and the Antichrist
are almost synonyms -
all our pop culture is worthless when Jung dismisses
the farsighted identification of the Antichrist -
it was Nietzsche... why are so any people trying
to imitate given the 21st century? well, not so much
these days, but those born in the 20th century still feel
the effective remnants taking effect -
the Paraclete is no less diabolical than the Antichrist -
we're talking the heresy of modern philosophers
who said that the holy spirit isn't a person but a community
but then pops up the Paraclete...
the lost pluralism of the holy ghost ends up
with a plurality of the false prophets - gamblers -
also a community - not many people have heard the term
Paraclete, they might have spotted a dove with laurel leaves
in Sicily - but nothing more.
Israel by current football scores is still part of Europe
and not part of America... Beitar Jerusalem F.C. and
Maccabi Tel Aviv F.C. - i wasn't asking, the Jews
really want the revival of the Roman empire
with a resurrection of the zealots and sadducees...
believe me, the plurality of the holy spirit personified
into the Paraclete is what Nietzsche did with
gluing together the conglomerate of false prophets
into his t.n.t. maxim of exhaustion... writing maxims
will exhaust you, until you write a bombshell and it's true.
so Jung's answer to Job is kinda paradoxical in
the years that built up a culture of anti -
toward a dyslexic citation of a quote:
since he is the third person of the deity, this is as much
as to say that god will be begotten in the cruelty of man;
originally it was the creaturely man, i.e, not the
creative man, not the ingenious man,
created that begot not creativity but indolence...
i told you you the Paraclete was a diabolic concept
akin to the Antichrist, given that it was hidden and never
stated in the "holy" gospels... the Antichrist was at least
stated in the book of Revelation... the Paraclete
ensuring the holy ghost was personified also meant
a bridge between the polygamy of prophesies in the false
prophet unanimity of suggested prophets -
but only when reading Nietzsche and then reading Jung
and then looking at our current sub- or culture -
but why was it ever a testimony of something holy?
after all, holy was intended for a dove with a laurel leaf
while John baptised -
in terms of sacredness and holiness i itemise to identify
something holy as having not indebtedness to words,
to meanings... by dove i concern myself with sounds,
knocking on doors, meaningless we also achieve yet still
comprehend with onomatopoeia(s)... the coo the coo,
the feline monkish purr - by holy i also invoke
untouchable, or in the doctrine of the Antichrist,
the chandala (of the Indian caste system) -
it's just become too pop and too imitable to hide the concerns
that Jung might have had - animals are ultra-chandala -
but i'm sure you haven't heard of a loss of a Christian
community committing itself toward the personification
of the Holy Ghost as known by the noun Paraclete -
but it's happening...  urbanity coupled with globalisation
and the pristine English village...
it makes no sense to read Jung as if intending to find the identity
of the Antichrist (i went to a faith school, the vocabulary
intended for priests is like ****** to me, get me off my high
i'll bunch up your ******* with a bouquet and punch
it until it looks like autumn - 6ft1 and 115kg... you think
i wouldn't? wanna try?).
i have no message: you are gods, beyond-man and above-angel...
given your little recording of personal matters,
i think you are in a cognitive slaughterhouse -
i have no message to make you gods... you're below animals...
as sad as it sounds, animals don't have selfie-sticks at
museums... gods that admire animals and hope for
the proper jokes from animals... that son of God really
did trick you to believe yourself ~omnipotent but returning
for jokes among dogs playing pianos and trying out
the soprano... the godly third of the unholy trinity is there,
the diabolical third of the holy trinity is also there...
funny how the Third ***** gets cultural attention
and artistic sympathy with bands like Hanzel und Gretyl -
and how modern man takes depression so seriously while
the holocaust survivors almost laugh with helium implosions.
well, you know, culture built on algebraic fractions...
Islam made simple waiting for a nibbling:
or as they say in England about the stabbing in Russel Sq.,
psychiatric problems are our smoke-cover,
better call the Norwegian-Somali outright mad
so we can keep up the proper P.R. tactic -
the English were always like that, esp. with a Muslim
mayor of London - P.C. thorough... as France said:
you find two people buggering in a Niqab you're not
watching five-blind-men touching up an elephant...
******* *******... it was a terrorist attack but
to keep communities united psychiatrists were
invested in to make up some *******.
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2016
where's the rain-man? where's the rain-man? where's the rain-man (comparison)? oh wait, in the interpretation of art by feminism: successful artist... house, wife, children... no... chauvinism's interpretation: desolation, desolation, car-boot sale for the rich at sotheby's - or nietzsche the inspiring thought in benito mussolini's mouth.

after edging to provide legal guidance
for the turkish shop by exposing the
legal balance worth a public bench
enclosed in the turk's caravan,
i became known as mathias del rado
(turkçe parçaladı), deltore, de amore (amoré)
bull's charging eye amore... olé! amoré!
que sera, sera... c'est la vie... well,
i do enjoy drinking and pretending to have
my shadow partner in ping-pong
always win... but why would i need to
feed a common consensus of drinking /
****** who masturbated prior having
the scalpel into the soft kangaroo hand-replica
when society eagerly sells and taxes the stimulant?
they criminalise the escapees of reality
ranging from classification A, B to C...
alcoholics aren't even categorised as D... we're
the troupe labelled Z... yet we're the most
economic addicts, we don't deal with shady
warlord economy, just dull political economy...
the two disparage when one shoots you
in the head and the other talks about an opinion
being free from dialectics... an opinion
free from dialectics (akin to shelling,
bullets whizzing past) is what entrenched
the germans and the english in belgium.
loved the film Ida (2013) though, an oscar contender,
not really black narcissus (but that's not the point),
english language movies can't ever capture
the purest existentialism of loneliness,
the way Ida was shot, black & white...
the poverty of the landscape, the Hopper like
moments after serious moments, honing
on the stasis of the the world and movement of
beings... the way one went back to the nunnery
with the truth of being spared by her family's
killer who purposively dug the grave and gave
back the remains of his butchery...
her aunt's suicide that was almost a secondary
comedy of the everyday shattered vase
in dialogue: i'm sorry, i broke the vase,
but did anything happen to you? no...
then there's nothing broken! the way she did her
final routine the last time,
shagged drunk, woke up and forgot it wasn't
her father, took a bath, turned on music,
got dressed in a jacket, but nothing beneath the waist,
and just jumped out of the window...
the music continued playing, the camera froze
on the scene as an infinite number of things
could have happened... then the nun Ida
embodied her nun, took to wearing heels,
a dress, showing her hair, drinking *****
spiralling in a window-curtain, smoking,
embodying her last remnant connection to a past
of jewry, imaging whether she could live out
the temptations suggested by her aunt...
she ****** the saxophone player and while
in bed she asked with dogmatic undertones
of useful regime instilled in her from early on:
and then? and then?
'a dog, children... and after that life's problems,'
he answered her.
she woke early and donned her nun outfit
and with a sense of courage retreated into
the convent. i mean, a great film...
but then mr. turner came up:
painting used to be so expensive,
all the necessary chemists to give aquamarine pigments,
poetry used to be expensive too,
write a poem, send a 100 men into a godforsaken war...
now technology has enabled painting
to be cheap, so cheap that graffiti tagging with spray
does the trick on a concrete grey slab of canvas...
and so poetry has become cheap too,
emotions have cheapened, people do not really
have ennobling emotions that might quake
100 men to go to war... perhaps 10 down the pub,
but war? not really... but it still leaves me detached,
admiring vintage cars from the 20th century on the driveways,
the way the familial cars dwarf trade cars (white mini van, e.g.),
for example the *mercury 1956 montclair 4-door hardtop
,
or the ford zephyr zodiac mark ii "lowline" saloon,
back in the day when people didn't make their life
compact, when girls modelling where the day
of modern day pornstars rather than shaped like coat-hangers,
and when people didn't make their life compact
and holiday resorts from mexico to kenya to australia
also compact in terms of their generics of cloning.
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2016
ejecting Jews from Europe never felt so sad...
long ago the Mozart was inspired,
then in the latter part of the 20th
century when Jews established themselves
in North America we felt that there
was no religious minority in Europe to
inspire us... we sorta forgot it was
worthwhile... even with Hasidism missing
we couldn't capture a Sufi movement,
we're talking Muslims who liked to drink
from Persia... i suggest the desert environment
as a way to avoid alcohol necessarily...
up north we drink to keep warm...
obviously the fundamentalists don't understand,
oh sure, sell me the polygamy of cultures
and later call my people vermin...
i'll be signing up from the word go!,
no ******... i'll resolve to antagonise your little
idea of media friendly democracy like
i always wanted to do it as:
i'll write about ******, but thanks to you
i'll write about ****** with realism,
i don't keep him a sacred evil we need to censor,
he's not a ******* Unicorn after all...
but by censoring discussion about him
i'm starting to think you're the SS men that
made the grade for Auschwitz by gorging out
the eyes of cats after the cats were petted for 2 months...
he's not a unicorn, not some mythological creature...
he was real, and he made things into autobahns...
criticising my reference to him is like
defending him...
Eva Bruan was a part of the Jewry, her genetic
geography tells us so...
ever watch the scientific program saying so?
how can i be part British part Vermin?
i don't understand...
but once the Jews left Europe and the Muslims kept
coming people went nuts...
i see no cultural output worth minding giving this
exchange... at least the Jews weren't eager
beavers to convert people...
at least with the Jews in Europe we had cultural
expansion... let the whiteys do the ugly work
on the American continent, worshipping a
god crucified rather than seated on a throne
will help...
                   ****** isn't a ******* unicorn!
Julian Tuvim from Łódź rhymed him under:
but still a human being...
he was gassed in the trenches and so he later
gassed others... he's the epitome of karma...
no, i don't own a Mein Kampf... sorry...
ask the Croat Nazis if they own a copy
when they joined the Serbs when cleaning
Sarajevo and Kosovo...
as in my reading of Philip K. **** and that
psychotic book entitled: Valis....
just before i was supposed to be confirmed
by a Bishop of Brentwood, but wasn't,
i started sniffing the school library,
read Stendhal before i was 18...
then the Gnostic library...
the Nag Hammadi library sorta undid the work
behind criticising Christianity,
i really have no need to talk about it...
but from the introduction...
VALIS, acronym of Vast Active Living Intelligence
System, from an American film;
a perturbation in the reality field in which
a spontaneous self-monitoring negentropic vortex
is formed, tending progressively to subsume
and incorporate its environment into arrangements
of information. characterised by quasi-consciousness,
purpose, intelligence, growth and an armillary coherence.
  - great soviet dictionary, 6th edition, 1992;
       western society's twin? the DSM-V or the DSM-IV...
   western society isn't saintly, deal with it.
already concerns about inventing words
to create custard...
    - armillary, etymologically Latin meaning bracelets
  - the word negentropic doesn't even exist...
              i'm suggesting: negativity concerning the tropics...
              but the word as such, doesn't exist...
it could very well be: negating the tropical allure...
i don't know, it's Soviet... i'm just thinking
about the next whiskey, and how spiders outlived
Buddha's concept of meditation, or how spiders
inspired people to take up meditative yoga...
i can watch a spider practice enlightening meditative
yoga counter gravity on the web... and sorta
sniff-up a laugh...
but i'll admit... American Head Charge did
a Jimi Hendrix to Patti Smith's rock 'n' roll ******
as Hendrix did to Dylan's all along the watchtower;
so yeah, ejecting the Jews from Europe,
sympathising with Palestinians,
we're having fashion week discussions about
cloth and skin... Vogue says... we make these girls
anorexic so they can model and we can save up
on the raw materials, that's why we starve them...
imagine having to tailor for a size 18...
it's cheaper to feed them champagne caviar and lettuce
and a few m & ms...
no, i see not inspiration being born in Europe,
actually, having located the Jews in America
we're only going to get crap...
cheap humour, charcoal chewing gum cheesy-smiles,
as Joseph Roth mentioned... the doppelgangers...
yeah, Joseph, not Philip Roth, Joseph Roth...
shame the Jews moved from Europe...
they're in America churning out **** comedy,
a sort of humour that's slapstick attempting
witty-satire... i.e. Mel Brooks meets Ricky Gervais...
it's like you're about to be slapped, and instead
of laughing with the person who slapped you
you headbutt K.O. them; i guess that's funny.
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2020
well, it would really become a problem...
if i were still jerking off and had a girlfriend / wife...
the ladies are looking for ultra-violent ****,
it's just a tease off ***** -
there's choking there's *******:
oddly enough... no yo-yo of Watergate?
me... i'm not willing to be shamed...
i still have my ******* -
she can have her webcam e-thot or whatever
the hell the internet **** is: memes my ***...
once upon a time it was merely called graffiti...
i don't see how darwinism can make
a 2nd coming resurgence in the 21st century...
fine... when it first came out at the end
of the 19th century: and opened the floodgates
for the 20th... and thanks to the physicists...
lasso! rein 'em in! rein 'em in:
for the fireplace and the ******* kumbaya...
the girls are looking and having finally decided
on an spanish omelette: but not a french ****
quiche... eggs and more eggs...
while i'm strapped to ******* one genocide
after another into the tissue and
flushing it down as: meat for the crocodiles
and tapeworms pretending they know how
play the parasite attaching themselves
to a white all white: white even if you're copper
skinned, cinnamon, hot choc or...
it's still a white tadpole racer...
i usually get off on looking at some xenia wood
cleavage...
it helps to tell apart the *** cleavage and
the breast cleavage...
i moved from: ******* snaps and started peering
at: when a woman pretends to perform
the lotus on a man's face...
and there's like... a floral pattern involved
with gulping oysters...
have i ever licked an ***-hole?
oh my... have i...
**** - *** 1-on-1... doom... 1st person shooters...
never the 3rd person ghost moving
the body...
am i missing something? the girls are
looking for extreme ***... i'm looking for
cleavage and teddy bears -
and the borderline before the whole body
exfoliates and what not...
as marquis de sade said: it's hardly something
i can control when i have a hard-on
almost 4 times during the day...
if i had a girlfriend... if would be crass to:
sly one in...
but... *******... no woman no cry...
it would be truly sad if i was in a relationship
and still up to the shambles of: not up to any
or the odd sort of good -
there's always this shared approach -
the wants and willingness needs to by made
synch. - they need to be a woman and a man:
polyphony - orchestra!
why write about ***? oh hell...
watch me write anything else -
my linguistic infatuations - *** and all manner
or picked ******* sells -
or... at a catholic school they would still teach
you about the perils of sniffing glue -
apparently the 1960s never happened -
no l.s.d. was ever dropped -
the pints of guinness were drank -
the cement was poured as the muscle to
the iron rod skeletons...

and when i finally achieved a beard worthy
of a post-25 year old - when the full
bush sr. happens - i forgot to curate
a body for: the objective safety of being watched...
or how the hell you word:
prior to the beard i focused on the face
and later the body...
and long hair...
once the beard arrived...
**** it... let's take to donning the Elijah
look... the beard comes way way ahead
of the nose - and now i'm still looking
for my neck -

it's *** it's only spectacular about once...
i've had that once spectacular -
i even got a tattoo -
oh... not me... i'm the dragon alien curl...
where my scar is...
on her right shoulder-blade...
and that's not even as if i branded her
myself...
she was going to fit me out with
dreadlocks and a tattoo of her totem at
the time - a scorpion -
thankfully i read about all this crap
in high school...
nick hornby's high fidelity -

it's still a very musical affair...
i remember what love at first sight looks
like to a fresh 17 year old
novosibirsk girl... siberian girl...
all the way west in edinburgh...
she gobbled the iPod and the playlist...
a near complete oeuvre of iron maiden...
and the odd songs...
while i was correcting two girls attempting
to make pancakes...
girls! you need to put some oil into the dough...
this is dough you'd make a sponge cake with...
so the story goes...

but *** was only spectacular once...
the rest of the time i think i was minding an itch...
even these days...
among... aha! that nag hammadi word:
in the Barbelo - the brothel -
no: i will not study the etymology -
in the brothel nothing spectacular ever happens -
you chance upon a ***** -
you're asked whether you want to use it -
you decline -
to play judas with the lips -
you pay an extra ten quid for you-feeding-the-oyster
suckling and all other leech comparison of oral...
ventures...
it's done - the mirrors are witnesses...
the lights are dimmed - two beached whales
on the shore of a bed of crisp linen -
and no one-night-stand
cocoon *** *******!
how do people stand these cocoon ***:
under the bed-sheets moments?!

because it would be really harsh to have a girlfriend...
and still have to *******...
at least without a girlfriend i can solve
the mystery of the throne of thrones -
no. 1 no. 2 and no. 3 -
then a quick baptism in the shower -
i sometimes found that doing the no. 3
helps with a constipation
of a no. 2 on: the throne of thrones...

- and as someone who discovered *******
before he could produce ***** -
well - the ******* is a "side project" -

because this world already needs no more
puritanical quips -
all this ******* stigmata looms over
the circumcised men -
but of course it would - why wouldn't it?
can you scratch your nose
if you cut-off the "un-necessary" rubicon /
cartilege?

would a balding scalp Adam ever scratch his
head - quiver - i thought that only stubble
and hair prompted one to scratch one's skin?
if i see a bald man scratching his head:
i'll let you know!

the plague of circumcised men's stigmata -
and if i had a girlfriend and she wasn't
"up to speed" like me: quasi marquis de sade
"might expect"...
**** me... even Chikatilo "fathered" children...
so much for "excuses": 2 to be exact!
nominee for bachelor of the year...
205th year (circa) coming:
Kant - the prussian watchmaker in
a coming of: calculating the promenade of
excuses - no famously i didn't / wouldn't
marry -

if you asked what i used to do
on those warm spring nights...
back in ol' satellite of the former u.s.s.r. -
and that... we entertained ourselves...
catching cockchafer beetle and catching girls
and tugging at their t-shirts and throwing
them in...
we: used to that sort of thing...
what better reason to drink seeing
the youth of today:
as a seemingly old dounding man:
well... in your 30s you sort of hit that zenith
of mortality's vitality on offer -
as much as technology is celebrated -
its change - it's impetus -

what's that... quote?
when an unstoppable force (technology) meets
an immovable object (ontology) -
or at least: i find man's ontology
to be forever played and plagued
by a priori "prepositions": genes -
and technolgoy is forever the a posteriori
counter-fact: of what much later...
much much later... in limbo land of history
becomes an: artifact escaping archeology...
now are we all not wishing
for some variation of closure?

memes: represented as genes?
really? i see them nothing but a cheap south-paw
jab's worth of the otherwise obvious:
graffiti (representation)...

girls are really searching for violent *** -
having **** fantasies?
my my - and here i was looking
for a xenia wood cleavage and some Bronzino:
you never have curbed your pornographic
enthuasiasm: if you never ******
off at...
mein gott! it's a meme!
1st comes god's index finger touching
adam's index finger in:
michelangelo's fresco of the creation of adam...
but the higher 2nd?
venus' tongue teasing the tongue
of cupid in Bronzino's cupid, folly and time...

i ****** off to that painting -
it's hard to stop a boy who knew how to:
prior to the kippah-guilt tripping:
no minus the ******* into early teenagehood...
i don't think i have yet to have dumped
the proper load on this: exercise - just yet...

oh the shame:
thankfuly this is england and no h'america -
and jesus is not the queen or king -
ol' lizzie is still playing poker and...
the constitution is and what i will not become
is this "vox populis" of a people
disaffected as to why the tax goes into the
pomp & circumstance and none of it:
thank god! ever goes into sense & sensibility
akin to the consort Middleton family;
that's highly replica prone...
blue-bloods... love them or hate them...
at least you can sight them as
almost unchanging -
sphynx head while the body changes
from male to female - but the sphynx is still there...

of an erectile-dysfunction: i would most certainly
hear if i had a girlfriend...
as it happened - the "free women"
always gave me a limp...
in the brothel i was there and she was there -
and i was she and she was i
and we weren't bothered about
counting two transgender sheep
of the nag hammadi library -

even on those one-night stands:
erectile-dysfunction - dim lights two beached
whales on the bedsheets i could stomach...
in a brothel...
but then she took me home
like some morrissey wallow and...
it was all about cocoon ***...
i've heard that temperature changes
the *** of frogs upon insemination...
cocoon *** under the bedsheets...
i stopped going out...

it's might almost sound like boasting:
believe me... it's disgruntled sarcastic... the overtone
to these words...
even i tried teasing a fetish with
latex lucy - but... then i thought about...
if you start wearing the same clotches
for god knows how long -
like an imitation of dog's hair...
you'd wish to squish into something
less pardonable / expected like a full gimp
imitation of lizard latex...
but violence an ****?

maybe that's why i started to tease
1970s italian classics...
dubbing from belgium and amsterdam
and all that...
but always after the torso cleavage -
always after the Om-onomatopeia look of
absent eyes and boiling tongues in a gurgle...
the contorted final stages of the face
before the lesser death as:
faking birth in ****** -
or what the hell you call: scavenger of:
never the lost details...
and if i had 7 children in the bag i would be
a fraud... and if i had a girlfriend
i would be a fraud and hopefuly ashamed...

came the white flag... came the rainbow flag...
came the ******* flag...
came the image: how would you ever find
yourself in a desire to blink: to peacock flutter...
without a pair of eye-lids?
hmm...
all those ******* freed arguments...
not coming from the "progressive school"
of islam -
or the hasidic jewry where:
a woman is to made to make concessions?
otherwise: waiting for that
golden moral maxim Confuscian wifey?

that a deity should...
somehow give moral laws...
i thought that man was the moral lawgiver?
if god were to become the moral
law advocate...
man should most certainly become
the physical law-giver - or at least:
to best serve my attention -
attempt fictional escapes via superhero
infantilism...

again: historiological infantilism -
the only serious history we are supposed to know
comes from h'america...
the civil rights movement -
that's serious history!
everything else is infantile historicism -
interchange of historicism and historiology -
yes - heidegger's leftovers...
but what is serious history?
and what is infantile history?
oh i'm pretty sure much of history kept in
agitated dust is: cowboys vs. indians
roleplaying... games...

cite anything serious of the past...
if there's no stampede toward some platonic exit...
then serious history happens with
the h'american civil rights movement...
after that we only have journalism
and bad idea dear diary entries...
of the next to come: ***** teenager
plague by acne and the many more oopses to come...

- and with the world saturated by:
an **** of forms - wielding their interwine and
maggot pit of "metaphors" -
better i write this than speaking during *** -
what could possibly saturate the "land"
that's already a swamp -

somehow i'm not edging toward a moral
superiority - the day i discovered
that god was both the god of writing
physical: and moral laws...
i was assured by the chinese that:
all kosher and all halal would pass
the test of the: 3 peepsqueaks...
no? do not eat a pig: do not eat a mandarin!
god only knows what the pig ate...
god forbid you ever knew the full
menu of Beijing!

pigs are the: das schlechteste!
das äußersteschlechteste!
pigs, mandarins, bats...
the bubonic plague, rats,
"supposing that africans would ever ****
monkeys"...
why would africans ever
**** monkeys...
i'm supposed to be ashamed of
having a hard-on...
while the white girls rummage
the carousel!

i could suppose the chinese already
ate the supposed ****-buddy to begin with...
it's no more funny when the "thing"
spreads like a mongolian shy-auxilliary
brigade of: voyeurs of:
the only evolution we are to be concerned
with, is to be better associated
with viruses, parasites and lice...

and if i were to live a sheltered western
liberal elite life... "elite":
the bigger the mouth the bigger the... whatever...
no complaint from the arabs
itching over well curated pork...
they'll allow the mandarin diet! no problem!

it's no problem...
pigs are the "problem"... when a god devolved
to invoke moral laws: his most high!
and it was "somehow" not man...
how can god, a monotheistic god...
give both physical laws and moral laws?
to me that's near impossible!
ah... unless this god is given
the "plotheistic" splinter of being
a theistic god and not a deistic god...
a theistic god gives both physical
and moral laws... a deistic god gives:
no moral laws: he was expecting
we could do so!

i can't believe in a god that plagiarises
man's activity -
man can't change the laws surrounding gravity...
yet to be known whether light
is somehow subjected to gravity...
but a god does not intervene by giving
moral laws...
having already established physical laws...
entertaining himself in the playground
of metaphysics...
only a prince... the devil -
would ever... intervene as god to give...
higher authority: a plagiarism of
man-made laws...
and call them: with deity origins...
why would a "god" meddle in:
you will not steal, you will not ****...
when...
god has set up a recycling centre?!

god is no judge, prosecutor, lawyer,
defendent, the accussed,
the jury over moral laws...
he is the epitome of physical laws:
the unchanging...
to have confused divine intervention
with a god bowing -
before and succumbing to...
man's ordiance... a moral law...
god does not allow himself moral qualities...
and god would not discriminate
against a pig: saying:
but the pig is the most economic piece -
had not man found the boar and
domesticated it?
the boar became the pig domesticated!
and the pig can be eaten...
from snout to tail and with only
the oink missing!

for a god to be so degraded as
the arbiter of physical laws -
to be ***** into giving moral laws...
only a devil would...
only a devil would...
only a devil would play with man's moral
laws... and attempt to supress
the already constaining impossible
with his cameo in egypt -
that machiavelli of sorts...

if the quran attempts to question
the cleanliness of pigs:
and god made the pig...
or rather made the man and the boar
and allowed man to domesticate the boar...
sick... ugly... but...
kept the mandarin: pristine!
save the pig... eat a mandarin!
if you dare...

how much do i abhor these infernal riddles:
how much i abhor scolding the bacon:
is also as much as:
you deserve the beijing sneeze!
you should let it palm tree vacate
and spread in the united arab emirates!
oh.. go on go on go on!
who's not looking?!

i only have old teutonic anthems to listen
to... because...
i like the way german sounds,
how german sounded...
how german will sound...
because at least german is not english...
and that's almost asking for a plum
tattoo of hue under the teasing
socket and the cheekbone: when in england...

no zeppelin echo you hear?
encore! again! again!
it's not o.k. to eat a pig according
to the hebrews of the muslims...
the mandarins will act worse than pigs
that the classical monotheists speak of...
a cat could catch a mouse...
but a cat could not be served a mouse
on a platter... what's that dish called?
the 3 peepsqueaks?
and pork is bad?
pork is just the tip of the iceberg
concerning these omnivores...
at this point... perhaps cannibalism?

islam go back home: check if there are
any mandarins living among you...
pork is bad... pork is bad!
this is not being paranoid this is me being funny!
pork is bad and your pseudo-god
of man-made moral plagiarisms!
*******: snippet the ******* but sure you
hell and bring me the niqab!
no *******? no niqab...

why are you looking at me?
i'm a tired old european...
why should i know what floats the boat
over in h'america?!

this "god" and the "intervention"...
oh i'm pretty sure we made our moral laws...
they weren't exactly to translate as a morality =
claustrophobia...
"god"...
               a belief that the same god
created the physical laws / barriers...
and somehow... decided to... plagiarise, human,
moral laws...
how this "god" decided to become
architect of physical laws...
and the interpolator of morals?
really?

a god that's critical of pork per se:
******* sheep ******* the semites...
but not critical of the mandarin diet?
that's no god; "at least not to me"...
the god that made gravity critical
as immoveable...
but a secondary god that...
was ignorant... of the fact that...
humans already punished stealing
and ******?!
why require a doubled emphasis?!

it's as if "god" made an entrance -
when no pyramids were to be built...
it's not: oh no...
we were never given any a priori parameters!
we were always supposed to sink into:
the thinking of being free...
let's face it...
at best: bad operatics of
madame butterfly at best:
only a soap opera.
Tash Carter Jul 2014
I love how playing " house" wasn't just a game we played in my generation. Like the king of Thebes , Oedipus who unwittingly killed his father and married his mother. It reminds me that , even before slavery exisisted people found love in all the wrong places. But I have to remember mortals have iniquity too . I love dressing up around midnight when all the children are inside and the blood ******* men are out . I call them night crawlers.

I love doing laundry after a long night out , changing my bed sheets to fresh ones covering up the aroma of devilish sins . I love the brisk walks back home ,  unable to afford catching the bus because I spent my last on hard liqiour that only benefits the darkest souls . So you walk . Finally reaching your destination you stop and stare at the darken house . Taking your time to turn on lights , not wanting to look in the mirror , flashbacks of what had happen on your night out , triggering an asthma attack as if someone was gripping you by your neck and provoking you to be his ***** ****. His **** .

Getting a text saying "dress **** , it's girls night out." So you slip on your red dress , spike heels , adding glitter to your chest . Could've put on something different but wanting to play the devil advocates and be anything but Christian . Swaying my hips from left in right hypnotizing everyone. Dancing to the rythem of the song , attempting to unbutton the buttons off every men pants. Spraying my best perfum on to make the legs off every man buckle , making him uncomfortable and having to readjust himself . Pouring another shot only to become more aroused , looking at the clock 12:32 . Twelve representing the number of *** smacks you we're given and thirty two was the page number of your favorite *** position in coma sutra

"Eres hermosa pero haces cosas feas" you are beautiful but you do ugly things . A Swedish and Puerto Rican woman told me .

I let those words sink in as if I was trying to remember and meditate on it .Suddenly I felt sick to my stomach , instead of rushing to the bathroom I ordered a double shot of 1800 taking it to the head , closing my eyes as I let the warm hard liqiour go down my throat . Scared to open my eyes because when I came I was already filled with alcohol . They say when you drink everyone becomes your your friend , funny part is my friends handed me their belongings as they sashayed their way to the men's bathroom . Leaving me behind as the gentlemen left with a smirk on their face . God I hope they can aim .

See I'm 5'1 but my spike heels give me the confidence of a 5'9 woman . I don't see how women could dance the night away in heels and still be able to walk to their car .

If my great grandmother was to see me she'll rollover in her grave and beat me with bible scriptures .
Romans 3:23
23 for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God,
Romans 5:8
8 but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.
I'm not perfect nor do I pretend to be . I'm like a grill that is being used over and over again on Fourth of July , that is being reused until broken . Not wanting to be fixed because your tired of the burning sensation that goes up into flames touched for the first time . Scared to call for help because my late night outing , drinking more shots than I should , waking up to loud snoring only to pull me close and call me "Athena " . The only man that should ever know me inside out is god because he helped create me . Not wanting him to smell dried candy kisses on my skin mistaken me for a pile of sins .

Thank god , thank god that my guardian angels Michael and Gabriel doesn't judge me for what I do in the back of cars and sometimes bedrooms . Thank god for placing friends in my life that knows more than what type of food I like or what to add to my liqiour to ease the burning sensation , thank god , for allowing the bus driver to pullover and ask me do I need a ride home because that brisk walk was gone trigger all the night crawlers . When I make it home I'm gonna slowly undress myself as if someone was in the room waiting to fill my canvas with warmth . No make up , no Jewry , no perfum , no red dress , and no spike heels . I wanna be naked and truthful . The naked truth is what I wanna call it .

I'm slowly finding my way back to god , crawling to him as if I was baby . Reminding myself in order to forgive you have to seek forgiveness and forgive yourself . I forgive myself from all those nights I put on my **** dress , spike heels , sweet perfum , an entertaining the bulging erections that didn't belong to me . I'm not their wife . I'm gonna stay at home and look up at my ceiling and smile at my guardian angels . My Angeles , my Angeles thank you for protecting me.
Hey over there you gods of the earth and other planets
Your creature like I, a human mold suffices knowledge not,
As you mightly rove all over the sphere and share domains amongtst thyself
To reign over the whitenes, Jewry, negritude, sinotude plus  yakeetude of mankind,
Enjoying  your ethereally eyeview onto the earth at your creations,
Permit me to shoot up  a guestion to you over there in your deitly realm
Be you  jehova of the jews or amadioha of the igbos,god of the english or anything dogmatic,
What happened to your clay mud and tools pertinent in trade of human ****** creation,
So that you of late on umpteenth scale  have created men who are women
And beautiful women who are aggressive mefolk and then ubuguitous earthwise ?
What has gone heywire with your human architecture ,when *** organs and feelings
Are center stage beckoning for their traditional orientation ?
Is homoeroticality your new creation technology  ?
Or it is man recreating himself ?
Don’t you have enough clay ?
If material matters do you honourable deities
Come to Africa , chief Mugabe bob will guide you to copper-belts
Of chimurenga fields were clay is beyond any control,
In such quests you will go back to goldenly old
Human ****** creation topography
That will glorify your deitiness
In the old manner of hetereoeroticality.
Mateuš Conrad Dec 2023
there is a very infamous instance of bez-osobowość
when you cross the Polish border at the airport
and get searched...
the celniks (guards) - provided you know the zunge:
will address you in a without-person(ality)
language / syntax...

how / i.e.? verb laden, verb exclusively,
averting pronoun usage...
i guess this is a counter to what....

oh i love Jordan Peterson aging and in full
schematic rearrangement of
post-modernistic mode "word salad"
buzzing... i'm buzzing too:

two nuggets of verbal beauty: a shine
on a sheen...
sheen being the already available glit of
a metal... shine being if a metal is exposed
to light and almost, "almost" reacts like
water or mirror...

- negotiating identity into adulthood...
- "terrible war in our culture"

     what war? what culture: to be exact...
cf. kołakowski's: culture and fetishes...
really? is there a culture "war" or simply...
this is not a war "war": this is a civilian fetishazation
of combat... this is passive-aggressiveness
of atomized-***-drive-derivatives
a cis-mutation parody regarding
a concept of: species...
this is one massive a-hole (forgot the bomb)
of an anti-Darwinism...
one might stretch it to the extent of calling
it liberal Darwinism...
or: on the basis of a humanistic whim
we can't harness the power of a lightning strike
nor can we harness the winds of a tornado...
but we'll sure as ****: make pretty boa-constrictive
grammar out of how we forget about trading,
capital...

identity "politics"?

- ideas of identity are narrow, hedonistic,
unsophisticated, self-serving...
- identity groups: whim-based, ****** identities,
race, ethnic...
- predicated on the notion of the immediacy
of...
- you're not a *** machine...
- anxiety hopelessness misery...
- subsidiary solution
- integrated self...

   hmm... so not the differentiating self of self?
to integrate a self "off" a self: toward the self?

consumer model?
integrating integers or integrating the collapse
of fractions?

a poem written while listening to a podcast
rather than music, which would be echo chamber
solipsism...

- play with someone else...
- invite someone else...
- there's you and now there's you that's a husband...
- responsibilities and opportunities...
- not gratifying your short term whims...

fair enough... go on herr doktor...

- immaturity vs. non-negotiation...
- learn to love someone...
- 20 years ago: self-consciousness and negative emotion
on par...
- flesh yourself out...           stretch...

huh? community? what community?
i have lived across from my neighbours for over 20
years and the closest i got to them
was when she and her daughters paraded
naked in the bedroom and later
moved on to getting another hubby...
married or "married"...
cohabitation... moved across the street
two doors down and still no ******* conversation
about: oh the weather is dreary and oh:
the garbage men forgot to take my garbage
or: oh the traffic is bad blah blah...

- definition definition definition:

the defining of the finite
the indefinitable infinite...
time is a flexibility of not counting / not measuring...

in out in out

- no action without the good...
ah... nugget! finally!

- consumerist capitalism
- idiocies of a degenerate protestant liberalism
driven by postmodernism...

well, given that when Moses spoke to unsaid X
said: ehyeh asher ehyeh...

i.e. i am: that         ↓
                        → i am ←
                                ↑

and not... i am what i am... since...
there's a clear distinction between the pronoun
'that' and 'what'...
conclusively...
by 'that' i'm implying vectors...
by 'what' i'm implying: questions...

what? well what?!

i am what:                 !
                             ?  i am  ?
                                     !

but Moses wasn't interrogated in a what whom
fashion, no: i am what i am spoke to him:
who spoke to Moses?
i am: that, i am...

  that... precisely that, i am that: who?
would god ask who of / off who of / off himself?

i still find it preposterous that this commandment
is so vague on the Islamic mind
as to not cherish the name Allah
but shout it while killing innocents:
and in his greatness the jinn swarm
to take the metaphysical procrastinators to
the hell of the 72 "virgins"...

la ilaha illa allah -

    mind you: the Maltese word for god is
borrowed from the Saracens
and is also blahllah... no: allah...
all? ah!
a relief it would seem...
how easily you could censor that word out
of a person's vocabulary and not take it in vain...
it's a Hebrew game i very much like playing
since i make-oaths of ****'s ******* ****
like a cobbler...

i still can't figure out whether to think of
culture wars as civilian fetishes of warfare or not..
culture war is a fetishised term...
war is a fetish term for poets who
are living out a rigor mortis of intellect...

now for the gates...

א                                                      ­               ע
    
i might be behind the literature,
what i know is: kametz (a)
     tzeré (e)
                  chirek (i)
cholem (o)
                       shurek (u) - pentagram...

hmm... Greek Satanism... which is not very much like
WASP Satanism that mingled neo-******
with a sour-**** vibrancy of proto-*** chimps
of the North American "sentiment"...

the revised niqqud from the niqqud
i learnt outside the realms of the internet is as above
(cf. aryeh kaplan meditation and kabbalah
samuel weiser inc. box 612
york beach, maine 03910
isbn 0-87728-616-?)

chirek became hiriq (בִ - i.e. BI - ב, bet hiriq) - i
kametz became patach kamatz gadol (בַ בָ - b'ah) - a
tzeré became segol zeire (בֶ בֵ - i.e. b'eh) - e
cholem became holam (בֹ - b'oh) - o
and...
shurek became kubutz shuruk (בֻ וּ - BAV) - u

a story of the gate:
א                                                          ­           ע
(ayin)                                                     (alef)

through which: הה Heh and Heh walked through
to find the husbands י (yod)
  and ו (vav)... oh sure: bot sisters...
Heh and Heh walked through these gate(s)...
and so became coupled into a name best associated
with "jehowa": i.e. he who hides them (vowels)
like the niqqud and the niqab...
some sort of conspiracy theory against
a society built upon monogamy...

so i met this pretty little 5ft2 36D Puerto Rican
all the way in Hawaii, or to be more specific: Kauai...
on the internet...
and since any mention of formality and inception
i'm on the phone to her every Sunday
(and i'll probably call her today:
Monday's and Tuesday's are her days off)
and we talk for an hour and i feel: ****...
only 10 minutes have passed...

but i'm still engaged with the current trend of anti-cinema...
culture war my ***...
a bit like revising that vision of St. John's...
believe you me when i say:
four horsemen... and one donkey-rider...
so that's 5 riders... the donkey rider
being obviously slower than death
since he'd be the one riding last giggling his ***
off... maybe him and the donkey would
be laughing... maybe even a talking donkey...
the vision is grotesque:
hyper-parody of Islam stealing the "saviour"...

now i know why i didn't drop any acid or ingest
any magic mushrooms...
this one time in Amsterdam me and this
Egyptian were mesmerised or rather fearful
having drank some ***** and smoked some marijuana
watching these two roomates of ours in a hostel
ingest magic mushrooms and waste the experience
on watching American Dad on t.v. in a darkened room...
Germans: so go figure... p.t.s.d. of history
or whatever you want to call it...
you'd think that ingesting psychadelics
you'd want to be in the sunshine in a forest
for some transcendental speech impediment onset...
not some dingy hostel room watching t.v., right?

case? the opposite, ingest some alcohol, fast,
then think about the hebrew alphabet...

yes, the great advent of anti-cinema...
a cultural shift...
when actors became producers...
notably? true detective... starring matthew mcconaughey
and woody harrelson...
when actors became executive producers...
perfect hell-storm to **** of cinema franchises
for the children...
from the days of: parents go out for a date
and employ a babysitter to...
kids go out and shoot up laughing gas
and eat fast food and fast **** in an alley
while the parents sit indoors and watch decent content...
maybe because actors have more time
therefore more freedom to feel into their roles
maybe because to write something good
you need to waffle for more than the space
of ~3h or like a pop song becomes prog-rock
after the 3min mark?!

in a way modern Polish "behaves", or rather:
is structured like ancient Latin
in the pronouns can be omitted to give meaning
to sentences:

ja myśle (i think) can simply be expressed
as myśle (pronoun-verb) compound of (i) think:
thinking... myśl (thought) myślenie (thinking)...

i.e. cogito ergo sum is a summary of
current Polish...
since there's no need for:
ego cogito ergo ego sum...
there's no need for i think therefore i am:
there's an anti-pronoun imperative
in sentence structure...
this without-personhood dynamic
perfectly compliments...
the anglo-protestant queer fetish for
exemplifying the plurality of it
via they...

       also...
borrowing from Greek Satanism the pan-Slavic
distinctiveness of
the following:

     щ: šč          ?: ść

deszcz: dešč: H hiding, or how the hebrew god
lingers in European psyche...
funny... that the **** Germans thought
themselves as Aryans...
given that the Polacks from the 15th century
onward compassed the arrival of an Iranian
tribe of... no... not Samaritans...
but the Sarmatians...

deszcz: rain
    dość: enough...

szczerość: ščerość: truthfulness...

i never thought the fetishes would spill out
and over into my reaching out with my tentacles
and start to... squeeze... out all the fetishes
into apple pulp sort of goo of glue sort
of averting the nasal thrill...

for a people who made ***-identity into politics
like Darwin and the lesbian faction of
existence running its course: cul de sac
existentialism of ******-identity politics
"politics": these days you have to say
"red" red... "blue" blue...
"train" train...

  mein englischleash: nein nein: niet ein leine!

what culture war?
perhaps a cultural lethargy, a cultural exhaustion?
i can see it as that... but a war?
for what? a quibble?
a ******* carrot on a stick?
a war for a donkey?
no one spotted the unearthing of the Nag Hammadi
library coinciding with the Dead Sea Scrolls,
how Isaiah died (being mutilated
at the torso, cut in half)
and how "suddenly" Christianity quivered its
last to estrange the European ontology
from the European will borrowing
from the nurture of winter in the Hyperborean
realm of melancholic rejuvenation of intellect...

the Slavs would sooner wage war against
themselves than allow
the Germanic self-flagellation of importing
cheap labour from former colonies...
these "good Christian" vessels of soullessness:
vacated by the riches from Arabia
eat ******* camel jockey types and typos
in H'arabic...

there is no culture war... there's only a cultural vacuum:
a lethargy: a great stink about this whole
myopic miasma...
with the established state of Israel and what
remains of the jewry in Europe
the fascinating dynamic of the arrival of a muslim
cohort of: sensibly minded idle citizens
that uber uber uber uber...
kamikazee delivery drivers from the mouths
of Bengal... hey presto: cheap as chips analogies...

so there's no problem with calling they it not i?
after all: it is a pronoun...
it's coming, they are?
          hmm... fetishes to the fore...
*** first: but the worst kind of ***:
non-procreative ***...
that's the worst kind of ***...
me and my old lady... i sort of told her:
it's an ancient practice borrowing from Roman times...
surrogacy of males...
i don't mind that you have a daughter
and she's not biologically mine...
guess what? that means i'll be less hung-up
if she "fails" morally...

     i clearly don't mind leaving a fractional imprint
of mine, hereditary on a passing fleece of a feeling
with an offspring...
i'm here to play a game of her throwing
three pebbles into a pool and both of us diving into
it to find them... mystique harry potter esque
the philosopher and the two women in his life:
life rediscovered... lazily tripping up over
sunlight and the predictability of daylight hours
on the tropic of cancer...

the rest of me is unpredictable like the weather
in northern europe: esp. England...

but these fetishists could have chosen a different
angle than latching onto grammar...
by the looks of it i'll gnash at bone
and grit by iron teeth (eisenzähne) with a "debilitating"
glee of: welcome, welcome, all are welcome
to the knochenernteausgraben (bone harvest
unearthing)...

even in sub-culture pops... hormones?
am i that bothered about testosterone levels in
males (like i might have some control over it)
when it comes to how stubble i can deal with
like i might sniff ******* or who's not living with grandma
like this woman is fertile, no, this woman is not fertile:
she's renting her womb to two homosexuals
vying for a proto-baby
    and this ***-first dynamic is going to go on forever
before Russia joins forces with China and India
and leaves the atomised man in
shrapnel still clinging to the crucifix-*****?
as if 2000 years of the rabbis warning us against
the advent of the self-sacrificial saviour were not
a lesson in diabolical narcissism...
it's plain as day to date...

          even with the structures intact...
christianity is unlike hinduism...
this makeshift monotheism with
polytheistic tendencies for schisms
is unlike any original European polytheism...
there's a U.B.D. / B.B.D. (use by date,
best before date) attached to it... like food...
given... well... christianity is food if you think twice
about the metaphor of the bread and the wine...
**** me... phoo! the wine has become a rancid
balsamic vinegar and the bread is mouldy!

islam on the other hand is only bound to the strength
of the dino juice... black gold...
it's strength is only temporary given
no longer needing to burn wood and instead
using gas and the mechanisms of oil propellers...
temporary ibn Saud paradise...

hardly a critique of capitalism: which is a force for
good... should the capitalist be the one
building railroads and autobahns...
giving wages, providing stable work,
pensions...
but the current capitalist is a capitalist in name alone:
chances of an honest wage for honest labour?
chances of a pension?
gig economy, the underclass of workers i'm in
already dictate the failsafe dynamic of
"contract" with: an "optional opt out"
regarding a pension scheme...
there is none...

                            some daydream akin to the ****
project circa 1950s with a home a stability
without the frenzy of hustling...
one generation old one generation bound...
some eugenics variation
and oh how the women love to call out
the men who didn't reproduce
but seeing some of the women that have
i do wonder what sort of pristine genetics are
being pressed and passed on
since i'm in an intellectual-zombie-land
from time to time... or pretty much all the time...
so i drink: to numb the pain...
so i drink: to numb the pain...
hmm... maybe that's why i drink:
to numb the intellectual dead-weight i have
surrounding me...

it's a good excuse... there is no other...
jeez... coming back to that without-persona language
the Polish border guards sometimes you:
the verb-exclusive pronoun-de-clusive
pronoun-non-inclusive of:

zdjąć - take off.. achtung achtung!
i.e. not
            zdejmij - czy czy: could you?
czy mógłbyś zdjąć twoje buty?
could you take off your shoes?

               so much for some vagary of an upheaval
in the queers for grammar in English...
it's almost very funny: but it's only just slightly
funny coming from a people not used
to how depersonalisation happens in language
when spoken off: rather than of or to...

like that saying from true detective...
am i a good person?
no... i'm not a good person...
i'm a bad bad man...
the sort of bad man that keeps the other bad men
away from knocking on your door...
i'm that sort of bad man...
the sort of bad man that keeps your
idiosyncratic selves in check
before they are no more than a statistic
in a serial killer's tally 正

                but even i have rules and sensibilities
that question when experiencing questionalibities
of: basic structures, like in language:
grammar...
       that sort of **** just makes me hit the monster
button within me...
and my ego becomes less a unit
of identity... and more akin to...
      a mouth that chews, grunts, burps...
bites... my ego is currently in the form of:

mundnichts... mouth-nothing....
        pupilleessenauge...
pupil eating eye...
                   in mich: ein legion von
alle der schrecklich gedanken!
         ha ha! wie ein teuflisch zirkus!
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2021
i don't suppose every psychologists might think
that having a strong father figure in your
life implies that you'll subsequently end up:
just dandy...

or how there's this stereotypical fathom of man
on the dating market as:
the hunter... chasing women...
hell... if i had the money Oscar Schindler had...
i too would probably end up
being a womanizer...

my father is a diligent man...
an honest worker... i worked with him one fine
summer in between year one and year
two of studying for a chemistry
degree on the roof of what would become
the Scottish Widows HQ...
i remember parading my colt muscles
in the blistering sun against
the backdrop of felt rolls...
tar slobbered onto concrete and gravel...
insulation take-a-break & min-K...

but i've seen what disappointments he
had to face...
a two-faced cousin that undermined his
entire self-employed: employing
others structure... teaching them...
in a flash of a whim: all gone...
the golden-goose that lay eggs
and was subsequently brushed aside...
perhaps merely a language barrier...

the most good of men...
diligent... ethical by hard-work...
to suppose you: the son...
are somehow to turn out all fine and dandy:
the next cog in the machinery of grinding you
down: grinding you until there's no: halt!
suppose i was the by-product of
single-motherhood...
i had myself a tiger-mom:
i had instilled in me the sort of ambitions
to repay my mother:
like a Raheem Sterling might...

my father is...
i couldn't be my father...
then again instead of going to university:
a waste of time... he went to a technical
college and learned the practicality of
metallurgy... but then the town i was born in:
almost famous for its metallurgy (
most of the Stade de France came from
my little ******* of a town)
imploded... Soviet-satellite bits & bobs
were sold off to the lowest bidder...
a city nearing 100,000 became reduced to:
tumbleweed: return to village-esque:
a city of the living awaiting death:
a city of pensioners...
and the odd: last remaining... new-money...
start-ups...
not even that... a city of priests
and grannies "repentant"...

between True Grit (2010) and True Grit (1969):
well... for the role of
Rooster Cogburn.... if i had a father worse
than the father i have:
you can't really come across as a prodigy
in a field your father already mastered...
you want to become your own man...
poetry... hardly a field to compete with earning
money and the general idea of trade:
poetry wouldn't provide for a company
of a woman or a child...
not since Horace... not ever...
Bukowski made it... the rest of us seem to be
deluded: even he probably knew...
but i most certainly could be my father:
there's no trade in chemistry:
there's only a cubicle...
and... even on an oil-rig off the coast
of Scotland... you need someone to cover
your back... you don't need a chemistry
degree...
for most work... it's not that you've learned:
age old fable: who you know...
and who you know implies:
something being past down, directly...
not by theory...

no... i am honestly without the sort of ambition
that my father possessed...
to receive a letter from No. 10 by
the administration of a David Cameron (ex PM)
celebrating his clarity of paying taxes...
look at me... i don't even earn enough
money to legally pay taxes!
there's no heritage in my name...
i've had two surnames already...
the surnames have become pointless
since in my native tongue it was a joke:
do dupy - into an ***...
and in my acquired tongue my new surname
is also a joke... am i highly responsive?

i have a terrible surname: no wonder i decided
to use up the Catholic mess
of baptism and having a second name...
which would do be justice...
it's not like i was born into a line of
the Merovingian(s)...
so... eh... all these excuses these days...
to imagine the concept of family...
cousins... aunts... seems rather odd...
only today my mother received a phone-call
where she was informed by her mother
that her godfather died...
and she only found out 3 days after the funeral...
my mother's godfather had
5 brothers... my grandfather: p.b.u.h.
was one of them...
another brother of his only found out
a day after the funeral...
COVID is an excuse... not leaving enough
necrologues around a small city...
mobile phones...

               if brother dies and no brother is informed...
family... ha! what's that?
the old days of cousins... aunts...
the fabled Cockney matriarch with
her grand funeral procession: called 'er NUNS
or PETS or some other Scouser loved-up-rubbed-ruby...

did i forget to mention that my father
wasn't part of my life from the ages
of 4 through to 8?
when i met him after this absence:
that's what happened when the Soviet
regime and its subsequent satellite states
disintegrated into the wild west of new-capitalism...
i hugged a stranger...
for all i know: i buried my alcoholic
grandfather who didn't scold me for
piercing his bicycle wheel in order
that he wouldn't have to go to work...
the one who took me into the fields and
watched as i climbed trees
while Bella! the Alsatian barked with concern
as she couldn't imitate monkey!

the great western brain-&-labour-drain...
it happened... it was real...
pressure in the early 1990s...
by 2004 it came around more on the lines of:
*****-nilly...
i've been waiting for the psychiatric
diagnosis to ring true after... oh... 10 years...
i'm being more introspective and reflective
while the rest of the undiagnosed people
are running: rampant: hyped-up pseudo-news...

hell; i don't write: oh woe: my tale is the worst
to be behold: the people with the most
terrible... ahem... tragic stories should never
write about them: other people are bound
to encapsulate it better: hell: they might even
write a ******* opera!
no... i'm writing this because i see a fork
in the road... no one but me will divulge
as much as i can...

i'll pretend my father is already dead...
why? it's a Friday night and i'm packing for
some "adventure" most associated with
a Friday night in the "west":
friends... drinking... random *******...
all that mash-up of cosmopolitanism...
instead? i'm cooked-up sitting in the attic
playing chess with clutter...
moving box X from position Y to position B...
moving "necessary" clutter Z from position
A to a giraffe height of S...
i tell my mother: this is futile work...
there's a tragedy waiting for someone...
(namely me) who will have to sieve through
all this "necessary" crap and leave it for the
skip to decide...

oh i'm waiting for the day... i'm almost gagging
for it... like the day i say: **** it...
go into a forest... eat a lilac mushroom...
drink a bottle of bourbon and do a quick
1-2-3... the artery just behind my collar bone...
the artery in my right arm-pit...
and... don't *******'s me about
like it's some church-bell uvula:
there is no... there is no... ******* "heart rate"
in the wrist... you must aim higher up...
arteries can't be weaved into
the mesh of the carpal bones... *******...
putting the theatre curtain alight
telling me: oh oh! there's a pulse in that delta
of carpal bones... like **** there is...
ugh... ugly medicine practice...
i've already been fed enough chemistry
that has turned my brain into a cheerio-chemo-soup...
because... "some" imbalance...
imbalance this...

DAB... radio... at circa 88MHz i've been listening
to static of some "central groove" station...
it's mostly static... i thought i was listening
to BBC radio 3... switched from DAB to FM
and manually found BBC radio 3 at 91.35MHz...
of course it's still 20th century rigid...
rug-gy... there's static but at least i'm hearing
the talk...
that's what also gave me a downer...
it's not only my parents... i too...
but i wouldn't wouldn't just shift boxes
in the attic to make up time...
time as the space occupied by boxes...
i wouldn't be able to love a woman
like my mother like my father has...
no... first come, first served...
my mother is impossible:
but when she is what she is...
i haven't met a woman: to date...
that might want to showcase her
impossibly me...
most women still pretend they are
mythological creatures: unable to fathom
constipation....
all geared up for the alpha male plunder...
three letters:
alpha... beta... omega...

       i'm last: i'll write in order to complete
the rest of the spectrum...
write too much: or write too little:
of the former:
write enough to create an exclusive club
for those still preserving the constitution
of: hide & seek...
this is a game of hide & seek...
it can't be anything less...

i can't compete with my father...
what happens to a child when he is 4 through
to 8...
but his father isn't there:
his mother isn't there either... from the age
of 6 through to 8...
lightyears...
i had a Dobberman for a brother...
and an Alsatian for a sister...
now i have two Maine **** cats since...
well... it's not like i'm tender with them...
i like to scare them... they like to be scared...
yet at least one of them ends up
falling asleep in my bed...

i keep typing until midnight and
he's more than welcome...
as are all the moths...
would you believe it?
storage of clothing... winter coats...
to preserve them...
from an attack of moth larvae?
laurel leaves...

i hear a voice: 'mateusz... płoną góry!'
matthew: the mountains are burning!
yes... i've heard the end of the world is near:
no nearer to the world: nor the end...
either way: no nearer to the world or: to the end...

my wordsmith ambitions can be matched with
a father as... plumber...
but they can never be matched with
said ambitions: translated into payment!
into the trans-valuation of "all" values...
i can be this poo'et i am:
but it will never scratch the rewards:
of... the poorest job of plumbing...
of constipation blues...

suddenly Norman Davies is a bad historian
for calling US... yes... "us" the bad pronoun
collective Pollack the industrial *******?
we didn't pick cotton...
we weren't the choicest of athletes...
i digress... we're still not..
envy... the blacks will be despised for
their athleticism... the Jewry for their intellect...
come: to the bleaching crux...
third generation having ****** enough
whitey sandpaper... don't worry...
the mulatto "stigmata" will seize to exist...
unless... perpetuated... in placed like: Bra-Zyl...

but the aqua-people will respond...
so much for the kippah...
and the excess of muscles around the pelvis
when running from lion...
no chance of "racial equality"
come: finding a swimming mate... no?

yes... this must be a healthy ambition to counter
a concept of "father": this disillusioned son
i've had to become:
finding people talk about Rumi
while i'm stuck on glancing at the theatre of
******* Rambo
with him
come the resurrected
91.35MHz (in the range 90.2 - 92.6MHz)...
normal people have these candlelight supper
conversations all of a sudden...
some excuse to escape their needlework
paper on paper: forest without trees
analogy SHAMBOS...

if i were not writing words: scribbling them
without agony: teach me to use the hammer
and put pressure on the nail!
all that's currently deemed "work":
seems nothing short of merely:
loitering...
the space-occupying an otherwise
welcome absence...

i can't be my father... i can't be my grandfather...
although my father having celebrated
being gladly tee-total...
my (maternal) grandfather's love for
slobbering of liquor:
translates...
come to think of it...
beside the onslaught of pornographic insomnia:
would i rather drink myself
to death: subsequently write...
or ******* and only write with
a hand spare?
is there a former... or a latter
when giving a reply?

i just see red...
whoever was king david's father...
i'm pretty sure king david gave birth
to king solomon...
king solomon wasn't much interest in music:
therefore psalms...
he much preferred "wisdom" and...
the music of the choir of women
giving up their onomatopoeias of vowels
of the ******...
will anyone entice me to remind everyone
else of the son... the next king of Israel...
that came... after... Solomon... "the wise"...
David was wise...

he wrote the Psalms... he had some
interest in music... he even wrote
some lyrics...
Hallelujah... a one word... bonanza quest...
what undermines the wisdom
of king Solomon: the envy of the paupers:
anyone could be so wise...
if they had a summer harem choice...
a spring harem choice...
a harem within a harem...
a quickie and there also being some...
favourite...
Solomon no ******* Buddha...

can the peers of mine: question my hammer's worth
against the futures of... nails...
would i be able to justify their...
"presence"....
not here: not now...
i abolish all concern for...
casual al fresco cafe culture:

each to his own underground... each to his own:
rat infested hive...
here's one to ease away from:
why so many pornographic actresses
seems to die so young and from cancer?
what is cancer: deciphered as
botanical?
a fungus... mistletoe...

      i will never own up or therefore be:
my father's worth...
for what's... ghost society: woo or woe...
i'll end up sniffing some "pearls" of
moths while i'm clamouring
over disintegrating metaphors of plunder...

this is a relapse into listening to BBC Radio 3....
god: i better be found drunk
defending this pish-poor sort of
a... *******! ******* bunker!
no... my father is the agreeable sober-artefact
of... work hard... pays off...
i'm of the lineage:
think: "smart" ought to pay off...
i never gambled...
hence the "ought"...

in the attic i found a 16-BIT
sonic the hedgehog SEGA cartrige....
MADE IN JAPAN... circa 1993...
last time i heard...
some pristine exemplar fetched a sum
of over $1 million...
for a mario nitendo...
64...

how much for a russian empire
banknote... with the face of Nicholas II
on it?i am almost glad to have been
born dead... thinking about
it is almost a penny's worth of:
the sweet bits in between.
oculus per oculus -
    an eye for an eye...

it was my first time seeing an eye
doctor - only yesterday:

oculist - not occultist -
coo coo
should i change my favourites
from crows to pigeons?

change my scouts
to messengers?

once upon a time we would
sail across the horizon of
where the seas would
merge with skies
with at least two crows

to scout for dry land...
the boundaries thus established
between seas and lands
there is an earnest need
to levy
a rest for horses and for crows
and invest in the theology
of:

replacing Huginn and Muninn
with Fantasiss
     og
               Havhimmel -

never mind...
the Hebrews are as guilty of trivialising
knowledge as the gentiles
and their astrology bull.... ****...

the Hebrews and their gematria
the gentiles and their astrology -
same ****, different cover...
to allude to A = 1
to suggest that words can be influenced
by a meaning in number
is a blasphemy against
the dictum primo (first saying)

initio erat verbum
et verbum fuit *** deus...

in the beginning there was the word...
so much for the fall of man
as the fall of word
into the lasp, grasp and grub of man's
intestines kidneys
brain and a grieving soul (search)

almost simultaneously:
the fall of word and of god
and the rise of man
and the subsequent acquisition of words
as communication as that equivalence
to the harnessing of fire
gifted to us by Prometheus...

words and fire met somewhere
in a non-dialectical exchange:
for this is needed, and was...

funniest football hooligan chants
i ever heard came from Millwall -
or the London Scoots - Scots, dockers,
who call West Ham (Cockneys)
pikeys...
and call the north London Jewry
penny knackers, pinchers, nibblers...
4 x 2s...
             ha ah ha... tenet (almost)

                               aha!

the most marvelous time... against QPR...
two weeks ago...

also recently: a burglary...
had a PTSD episode last night where i made
my mark on the night air with my breath:
as you can imagine
my mother was woken
as i grieved a lost privacy a safe haven
of my garden...
with a prophetic armistice and fury
i tried to ensure that the burglar might
hear me in his sleep...

nein! nein! nein! du klein sheiß!

oh that it is one of my "neighbours" is certain...
a juicy thumb he left as proof of presence
for the CSI officer...
officer...
that too...

      my mother doesn't take my work
seriously... like i don't take her housewife
"work" seriously...
but during the initial investigation by a PC
when asked about profession
i answered: SECURITY
to which he duly noted: security OFFICER...
hmm... what a moral boost
concerning status...

police officers, firemen, ambulance personnel,
security officers...
and all the moral principles of:

come the age of man in his mid 30s...
time to start looking for a serious woman:
an older woman...
i would have never gone down the rabbit
hole of seeking an younger woman
to have some sort of advantage:
i wanted an equal and an equal
i found in an older woman...
in the footsteps of Macron and Wolverine...

anima per anima
duo per duo ut unum

now for the geometry of seeing with only one eye:
hallucinations in the night,
how the closed eye merges
and disrupts the night
or rather how the night invites itself
to quasi dream -

geometry by letters, one eye and that annoying
nose...
always present however missing
with ().     () two...

it must have been so that
Polyphemus had his eye placed above
his nose to never engage in a nasal entanglement
quiet like the crows are emergent
in flight and peck:

L Γ

peripheral vision of the ape
180º
              but i think that crows and horses
have... an almost 360º vision...
if not 358º vision...

    (a) clepsydra funnel sight(s)

        ∇
        Δ

             stars stars and some David:
this is my colateral,
this is my Balaam moment with the Israelites,
because of gematria
being akin to astrology
such foolish waste of cognitive resources
sheer boredom!


     O
                ∇
                Δ
                      
O

cubism - Picasso lettering
that is a face, striking how i can't really tell apart
a nose from a nose or a noose,
protruding or retracting?

ever see a hawk chase a prey?
i'm pretty sure the prey can see the hawk
honing in...
ergo? 358º vision...
given that birds fly into glass buildings
but then glass and air
indistinguishable...
like mirror and water...

Edie Edie my honey bear my peaches
this i ode unto you...
R           ya'R               Ar         R
pi              R           i didn't eat:
but you ate: my hairy chest your *****
and all that floral of flesh of you
i can be unabashed in public
for public to scrutinise:

     since i'm not me now but am me
with you...
given: if everything is ****-
pride charged: i'll create an advent for
the binary cis ****
a nudge in the opposite propaganda dictum
of a culture of a sunset...

cite Trinity in the matrix of:
dodge this...
                              i:              pride this...
and it only took roughly a ***** dozen (13)
of like minded individuals on
an SIA course to get a membrane
going - the walls of Troy have risen once
more...
none of this English
liberal *** nonsense middle class jargon
newspaper friendly opinion section
"journalism" of opinions
without a dialectical scrutiny...

the editorial section i can at least respect
for its impartiality and commitment
to a non-person ghost-like allure...
having opinions makes you less than a journalist
when not debated...
a sort of *****-like ATM
an inflated egoism... which is no heroism at all...

but i digress - having in mind
the poor opinions concerning poetics:
enough said:
too many practitioners not enough
craftsmen...
then again: poetry in a democratic crisis?
at least poetry adheres to democracy:
in principle and above all in practice:
why vote when x
   why not grasp for a voice...

in vox electio -

     in voice a choice: one can choose to either
speak or not speak...
carefully listening to thus carelessly speak:
how glorious that:
to carefully listen but also carelessly speak...
it is this freedom
not libertas per se
but rather on grounds of:

audite diligenter
                                                     loqui neglegenter

and amend and retract
with not fear of prosecution with no
******* mental gymnastics
                                    of censorship:
speech like water - speech like thought

as far as selfishness is concerned:
we all owe ourselves this sort of "selfishness".

oh how i desecrated the initial origin
of these words... from high on...
to this lowly human
and fragile and

'you can't make this **** up...
so i'm still reading Knausgaard's mein kampf
vol. 6 and i'm in this interlude
where he's talking about
a Paul Celan poem,
the symmetry the words, adjectives,
pronouns blah blah
and the symmetry of a poem
resting upon the middle with a focus
on a wet eye....
the past the future, disembodiment etc
and there i am... a day later...
with a ******* eye infection and an eye patch!'
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2021
i don't know how these self-help gurus with their videos... managed to... infest my self-d.j. prospects on youtube... oh... wait... youtube was gearing up for creating paid-subscription to compete with spotify... no wonder the algorithm went hell-wire... it stopped behaving like a thesaurus might... there were no new... alternatives... unless of course... some of us remember the need to buy a KERRANG! or a MOJO magazine to find out about... the lesser know... "neglected" artists on the music scene... you thought the music scene was bad... poetry is even worse! - but no... all these self-help gurus: it's like the hell i was told to inhabit for not buying any of their literature... i'll listen... eagerly... but will i take any advice? it's not a rhetorical suspense coupled with "probably": it's an outright negation: no...

take this example... some self-help guru: perhaps a gym bro or... whatever...
starts reading an article akin to:
'we live in a time where lust is glamourized and (true) love is made out to be shameful and boring...'
hence the brackets... is truth more of a noun...
or merely an adjective...
true-love... compounded...
no... that's conflated...
it's boring to tell the truth...
and that's also coupling with the alias: boring...
no... telling the truth is ineffectual...
lies are: weaving strands...
truth is: gravity...
                        people who don't escape into
reading or writing fiction prefer to tell lies...
what about my statuary rights
as a person concerned with...
the guarantee of a product...
i heard that the manufacturer provides...
a one year guarantee on the bicycle tyres...
but the seller steps in...
defending the manufacturer...
not the buyer... moi...
the manufacturer will be forced to answer:
i'm just left with a "smug":
oh... we're replace your tube: inflate it...
we won't charge you for it...
but we've seen worse tyres...
what... the ****?
and this world is atheistically: enough?!
if you're a rhetorician...
this world isn't enough:
this world is the least of all possible worlds!
it's a ******* primer!
that some god almighty... whether
he be demanded the ******* camel-jockeys
to take a critique of pork seriously:
pork as leather as shoe:
or belt...
  now we're talking...

- aside... what about the nobility of swans?
they are... noble... those creatures...
aren't they?
no talk of a duck harem imitating chimps...
the swans are noble because there's
a concept of a widow / widower swan...
how such animals pair...
without thumbs to stress
the posit of hammer or a... ******* igloo!

of the past two hours i've been "debating" with myself
the agony of a Tosca ****: opera in three parts:
freeing a ****...
a quasi-constipation:
not exactly high-and-mighty:
instagram me drinking champagne on a yacht
in Monte Carlo...
to-and-fro... first sitting the magnum opus...
second sitting... third...
Cheerio shrapnel...
fool you fool me... who's the fool all the better?
absolutely tortured by a ****...
at one point:
my **** started yawning some acid...
i treated it with some mint-caress fluid
of a tendering wipe...

the story goes...
the nobility of swans... coupling...
better me... not coupled to fakery:
i will not listen to the advice presented:
it's entertainment alone:
there's nothing practical about it...

- it's hard to find a meaning of life:
if, that's all there's to it:
meaning, counter: momentum alternative:
will... who cares about it being "FWEE"
at this point: a binding contract that
defaces death as a waiting game:
it's hard to find a meaning in life
when you only arrive at the crumbs:
by the end of the day that stretches
into the night...
if it's not come the genesis of day:
the zenith...
these meagre words come the 2am slot:
the nadir... are as "important" as they are...
hardly impotent: more... crazed raw
akin to the croaking of the crow
or the laughter of a fox...
because... in England... there are no wolves
to awoooooooooo!
we are best left to what remains...
bark-my-finicky-dance-of-moon-finicky:
clock tick-tock...
speak to me of wonderous cre-ah-tures...
akin to Walruses....
many fanged and -  sabertooth tiger
didn't take it up with the seas?!
here's a moustache to prove:
a family of mice living well inside of it...
like a bunch of Hebrews come
the expulsions of the people
from their Tenements...

the old maxim:
our people and the tenements...
your people: and the streets!
wasze ulice... nasze kamienice!

i might be the first to thirst bemoaning
the: export of the Jewry from Europe...
if i were anyhow Russian:
i'd be almost intact...
thank **** i'm not Russian:
but i'm certainly not glad
for the import of the gladly summarising
ladies of... she imposed an African
import of living ******...
i forget about anger about this point:
of cutting the mustard...
i'm more interested in horseradish
to begin with...
i have a maine **** with bramble seeds
and as i bite into his fur to get them
out; entertainment for the whole
worth of night...
desar

dear god dearest god
am i cluching: clutching the idea:

a TikTok short
just how i like it:
eyes eflamae: aflame...
darting witnesses:

shame that i only have
one shadow
only one shadow
i should have at least four!
one angel one demon
and two genuine(s):
in the plural sense
language can disintegrate:
i can imitate god
prodding anti-gravity
in the black sun

Lucy Lucie Loo

     Lucy Lucie i.e. loo
emit Romulus
Remus
Azure: or rather:

opposite of acute diacrtic(al)
diacritical:
that's not to say: a critique of
reason or unwind
the purity of the races
and beer
i designated to the Deutsche sprechen

allure i know
darkness a beacon like no other
but better no
citadel of the homicide
that if you think
you can't learn anything
from the ****: membrane:
evil, purest...
only access through the elites
that
now
no longer know
when the man with the leash
came to tame the dogs
of human concerns:

loudest mouths
but still not the moths auto
taming themselves to
suicide by "blinking"
or head-butting against
nothing: nothing... exactly flourescent...
****: misspelled that too
again
and again and again...

yellow teeth
pink sclera: i didn't! misspell that
just now!

Alexandre Cabanel or:
VON STUCK!
hmm: immersive "literature":
my last will and testament
to some Peter and some Paul
the ***** work cousin Jesus
begat the Ottoman mania
after BYzantium
like no one saw Islam coming?
like!

ha ha ha!
ah ha ha!
no one saw Islam coming
and then the terrible thing
happened and human reality
burst open and
the insatiable: the one truth:
schismatic contamination
i gather: only one schism in Islam
and that's a pivot of pride
almost devilish like
my character

but if i'm not an evil man
and still evil KARMA befalls me:
then i can do one better and
just be: a MORBID: ARTIST...

yes: poetry is not journalism is more
than journalism
i'm sampling the times
what with God the generator of space
then Man the generator of time
or at least what's relevant
the relative ant said to the unrelative
ant something about an Aunt of the Mount...

pink sclera in the brain shot dead
on a pinpoint crux
like torture is the site of seeing
many enviable paths to take
like becoming a preacher of misery...
anti-biological
to say the strong don't take care
of the weak
but perhaps: i need to fly away from
serpentine metaphors
and go into shadow and:
clues akin to O and rings of fated
deflation of will:

so un-free this binding contract
to the communicative-articulate:
hyphen compounding like
a good translation of French thinking:

mind you i couldn't read Knausgaard in
English could only find a palette for
him in Polish...
so that tells you a lot...

but working with these four English
natives
is so was so so
so: surreal?
William IV was at the gig
took my Swiftie away
William IV was at the Friday gig
took my Swiftie away

funny working with the Born and Bred
British Somali Sur Sur
(no surf)
such a lovely face i kinda wanta **** 'im
don't mind if i do those sparkly
eyes
but the personality like a hellish
*******: comma comma comma      (,,,)

variations on the KKK ***** whipped
by Hugo Boss uniforms for the SS-mensch...
because how did or didn't they
perform an orchestrated genocide
rather than like the Mongols turned everything
into ash:
like mountains of skulls
and the burnt pages of the Baghdad Library
just like the Christians and the Library
of Alexandria
same ****: different cover
a ratio:

better to reign in hell: than to serve in heaven:
same ****: different cover (ratio)
and in that line of thought:

ratios are better than percentages
and definitely better than approximates
and decimals:
i love ratios: they are dualistic
in that you can JUDGE
and judging is above knowing
it's ultra-knowing
i'd rather judge than be wise
wise is a shorter variation of CUNNING...

i have seen wisdom become cunning
and it has an ugly face:
i have an ugly face: period
because Beelzebub Bob took an *******
dump in my face and plagued
me with his spawn of maggot acne...
ooh well... oh...

i'm not a loud mouth anti-racist:
i'm just NOT a racist:
but i don't hide my racism behind
anti-racism like the currency
of policy maker loud mouths
but it was just weird working with Brighton:
four natives

SHAUN
DAN
SUGAR RAY
and...
one ******* Irish rooted bastawd!
MACAULAY: obviously chandelier
shambles and shanders and shandy:
proper Aussie brew:

but **** me if i get some Raj and ****
on my team
or: is it just me
that i can work with former Nigerians
now Brits and a West Indie
with a name like: surd N? Nkoyo...
N'
   ah! apostrophe N like precursing
the KOYU... not KOYO then?
sounds better with a U at the end:
sputnik U For ogling:

now: that's wrong! wonky!
it doesn't have a feel of containing the sound
that spelling doesn't: ogling:
i'm not: google! oh ****! google is not AI
therefore m'eh...
but it should definitely be
anti ogling: i.e. oogling or ooggling

PETITION! OXFORD! CAMBRIDGE!
i know there is a summer furor gripping
Europe right now
hot summer
war and "war" in Ukraine
or rather if Islamophobia is so surreal
why the super-real Russophobia?!
don't get it:
it's not like Russians are terrorist
minor Pakis etc
i don't get it...
so Islamophobia is unreasonable
while... Russophobia: suddenly is?!

i think i'm concerned with an intelligent
ethnicity: a people
who cares about Western idealization of
a Greek thought: namely democracy
the weak have the votes
someone strong enough has to fend
for themselves: in this pit of snakes and
landmines: snails secured by
that goo glue of a sloth's death...

but so unreal: we did our job:
the five of us at Turnstile Alpha
the queue was dispersed in minutes
then i: couldn't keep a leash on these guys
me and Elder Sugar, Ray: tried
but then i know how the security
workforce looks like: hierarchical etc
and for all the anti-racism
spoken of
when it comes to hierarchies
an ants
but since dinosaurs became birds
there was no actual extinction
given the other lizards
so i guess given the dwarf insects
there must have been a society
of exoskeleton folk
that: with talking mushrooms
hijacked bodies
and became extinct too
     but left the air with moisture
and enough oxygen for us to survive
since who are we to know
that dinosaurs existed but we did
paint dragons
and the meteor explanation
more like the moon nudging earth
to unleash the seas
who is to say nothing of this sort happened
what compass
is there: direction NEWS
within the confines of time?

time is a human "thing": not a construct...
itemizing and scrutinizing and
allocating bookshelves
time is alien to god as concept or
even practicality:
god has no knowledge of time
but man has
i can slow down time i can disintegrate time
by smoking a zoot
a heavily laden tobacco joint
with just a sprinkle of marijuana
and i'm playing god not out of pride
but out of fear: god's Sabbath is any day
when my worded prowess exfoliates
and my imaginary non-imaginary: but binary
blah blah whiffs of a secret wind
come back to haunt / motivate me...

but i wouldn't get away with what i did
walking out of the concourse on level 5
for a cigarette break
if i were supervising two black guys
and two Asians...
i figured: but i know the upper escalons
of this hierarchy
of CCTV are manned by white guys
and they only dish out supervisory
roles to minorities on the sly to
appear more inclusive
but then that brews up burps and tightknitknots
of miscommunication
i wouldn't have: have:       oh that word!

i was looking for the grave on A and an acute
on an E
to dislodge Adam and Eve(n):  

    À                 :                   É

      king: crown:

           caron (later):         Æ    (first)

poetry is not rhyme nor rhythm it is
anti-coherency anti-philosophy
it's thinking: airy-fairy: dust for an eye
one eye to peer into
the land of the dead
and the energy associated there
with investing in memory
off of the living toward
the dead
energized to be dead but alive
in the talking mushroom universe solipsism

weird working with the natives
weird as ****
i was not expecting
but Dan the Ginger Nut ended up being
more than a female
he had about 20 friendship bracelets
by the end of the shift
he was the dutiful soldier
about time: no war
he was the female in our little nugget
of crowd awareness: this is Wembley
and this is a Taylor Swift gig:
this is not Auschwitz and this is not
genocide
but we're still herding people
through turnstiles:
so it's kinda handy to have the back of
the mind rummaging through
the hells of SS-Mensch... black clad:
skull: Hugo Boss black: black uniform:

oh i can take this route if i so please
i can choose this route if so i please:
and i like to please myself
cognitive
before i **** poor Edie's brains out
and flick my magic wand of a finger
to make her ******
what's missing is her fascination
with squirting:
we already covered her swallowing
my monkey juice
oddly enough...
she's the first woman to know
that i speak in my sleep
and that i'm lactose intolerant

funny that she has a brain of mine
for a child that i want to unravel
which also means:
as a man: surrogating
the ancient habit of what beget
the Roman Empire
to be a dad surrogate
implies that i do not have
a diminished testosterone levels
of the: vitamin mineral *******:
i mean the HORMONE:

you can get mineral and vitamin
supplements:
but hormone supplements?
unheard of!
hormonal blockers sure
but hormonal supplements?
best bet is to have a kid without
actually having a kid:
i'd prefer a boy but i was given
a girl and
that's almost Tom: BOY_YEW...

that floating thingymagig :dzdz
dzi dzi: baba: FANTA:
          
                ding ****: can i come along?
seems like somewhat of an afterparty
and i could have at least
one apprehensive gesture of: THAT look
for what i am THAT am: without i
might imply...

         ignorant fool to think: maybe forgetting
the Hebrews would be best
who who knows:
they've been trying and tried
and tested
been spewing geniuses left right
and no centre
beside the Israelis now:
not descended from the Hebrews or the Yids
of Germany
that instigated: well:
the slaughterhouse of Polish Jewry...
and there is a distinction
between the Jews of Germany and the Jews
of Poland:
and... well... d'uh?!
need i to spell it out: Wiemar?!

the Jews of Poland were not the Jews of Germany
and it almost seems like
no one is going to own up to
to Treaty of Versailles
and Wiemar hedonism and all the wonky
***
like this *** is bad it's leaving
me with a distaste: a negation of taste:
etiquette: fashion... sensitivity to sensibility of:
sense:

         two gay guys riddling *** on the train:
nudge nudge:
kiss kiss: innuendo: shy...
two: ******* LESBIANS on the train:
shy? god no!
just looking for a walking talking *****!
out straight open ***
in your face...
kissing and fondling
just shy of ******* each other
just shy of ******* each other!
but all the rest is there:
i was there:
but not the bedroom...
but Sappho contra Sapphos
is me in the mix too...

at least two gay guys can make
the whole public show of private
affection: tasty...
lesbians just create a horrifying
three:
one on two sexed up dynamic of THIRST:
babes...
i'm not thirsty...
i did a little flick of the finger in
my prized ***** possession and
i was ready to summon the meteors
for a Chinese New Year...

clearly there are ways to organise
people:
but democracy does: not...
organize: people:
democracy dictates individuation
but to what: extreme is that even satisfying
if given: to the wrong people?
to: everyone: is the wrong sort of people:
everyone is the wrong sort of people:
because it ends up a struggle
to find anyone in everyone
in:                                         someone....

well if we're going to have
a ****** revolution in pedagogy with
everyone minding their ***** pronouns
then who is to suffocate
the prepositions and conjunctions
from anything but TRANS= affix-ation:
label: LA'BEL...
the beauty:

                         capital compounds: TRANS=FIX
     lowercase: hyphen            i.e.         trans-fix:

and i know that transfixed is a non-hyphenated
word that has been given the Ocford seal of approval:
so m'eh...

summoning benevolent
deeds
while invoking the letter(s): Š,
    Č, я                     ю
           ч                                ц
ш                            щ
                                               ц         п

zh         zh                   cz sz sh ch yhwh

    etc                                etc. not: ж:

                                                                     ž ≠ ź) ż
different spirits agree with me:
others don't:
we can agree to disagree as the clitche goes...

today i was supposed to finish
at 9pm
i finished at 8:10pm
in the car park with the away coatches
all the way from
2nd London:
that is Manchester
in terms of spirit...
not in terms of numbers: not so dearest
Brimingham:
let the cities talk as if they were
free from the state!
let Manchester become a city-state!
let it build up its walls
let it become the Troy i want to have
when i leave:
London can burn
but i want my heart to be burried in Manchester...

coincidenses...
no such thing: enough coincidences and you
get Cambodian: MA-GIC!

i switched temperaments i switched humors
i switched from whiskey
to *****
and everything became i'm high: REAL
i got a real pusher of the American finest "tobacoo"
and i as:
Ken: totem: shove that stinker in there:
in some wood:
keep the **** in scented wood
thje doctors are becoming suspicious
nervous
having a *******
about Oedipus Schizophrenic-Android-Altruism
of... off.. Atheist: the Lombard
Crusader Simple tonne of Simples:
Ar'Gs...
  Argentinians:                       (atheism, solipsism,
                                  autism...)

civil army: i work with armny veterans
i'm not a Charles HARLEM HAREM
Bukowski:
the grin reaper of lonely women
whos loves didn't come back from the beaches
of Normandy:
like the women prior
whos men didn't come back from the trenches...
i don't work in a prison:
just a civilian army...
and this ******* pencil-sharpener of a "doctor"
from Poland
had the audacity to play the "doctor"
and the DWP pencil pusher:
i watched the Green Mile
because i wanted to see...
not the execution of the repentant Cain
but the Prideful Abel:
finally resurrected and so vicious resurrected
as a woman...
and men as portraying women
on the screen: but not in theatre of opera:
the world is intact there:
i rewatched the Green Mile
because of Mr Jingles...
oh the ghosts and the spiritless that live among
you and crab bucket you into darkness

Coronation Street
before my time apparently:
oh: grandpa knows the world: WOKE!
his is ich spreschen detuszche
stationed on the Falklands:
made redundant now drives Manchester
Stewards...
so the Bennies...
wha?! the Falklnaders were always there?
did i fear correctly?
painting colours on penguins the ones
that fall over
go back to the nest
and you get aces and the races
British soliders passing time
if i were there: passing time...

MAnchester incoming LOndon answered:
there is a cohesion to mind:
state cities:
there are many citities within the confines
of the Christia-Jewry-n of the City of London
that the Arabs are infiltrating
because i see the perishing god of money
that's where Mammon was crucified
in Islam...
because Islam doesn't believe in usury...
and Ezra my Essex of the Pound
5 books is difficult:
10... i need 10 books...
at least two that i haven't read in English
and at least one in Polish
but i'm finishing at least five books at once...
i found the bibliophiles asset of parasite
in worms...
i moved beyond snakes
i only believe in the stelar symbiosis
between man and worms
i am armed with wormed about to stage
fright fights with serpents
and streets and dragons
and ladders...

Dad's Army: motto: let us disperse the world!
we travelled almost everywhere:
let us be the beacon and the baton
this New Greece
that's England...
let us become ground zero:
let us accept Rome thrived... preserved itself...
like Greece...
let us free ourselves:
the Celts the ******* Romans
then the Saxons then the Danes?

the Finns are weird
the Norwegians discovered Iceland
and America
the Danes sailed west to find England
the Swedes went east and found
Byzantine: dropping ***** as they went...
Goths and Vandlas...
the ******* children that invaded Rome:
it can happen again...
if you wish it...
there are plenty of *** starved young men out
there:
i don't care to have a persuasion...
to deal in these matters...

my cat woke me up at4:30am
couldn't go back to sleep:
music? what music?!
SMNR: whatever that acronym stands for:
i would rather listen to the sound
of rain against a tent:
then rain hilt: on a tin roof...
then rain and thunder
then the sound of crashing waves...
i don't care for music
i already know not to care for sport
i was working with one  WAGWAN
woman... and some African gremlin (sized)
one...

i still care about music
the Green Mile:
but i was there for the Percy Wetmore
transformation:
such a simple Christ
picture...
no more agonizing paradoxes
O: oculus per oculus...
no: you first: thirst: turn the other cheek!
burying naked feet...

i wasn't there for the graces, and god...:

Braille: came the "despots": i need a library
if i'll be moving to Kauiai...
i need a library...

i pay my dew with dues:
should my doctor be my ogliest
U... huel: bananna flavor...
400kcal... but the amount of protein...
then this evening:
because by now the night:
a bunch of children walking against
me
until one voice made
Dasein: there's concern to be had
about being conscious, mortal, alive...

because i was pushed to the side:
but i understood:
the necessary ****
of crowd of *****
and one only one of a billion
experiencing the burden and pardon
of atomized consciousness...
as ***** then ape then man
wow!
what closet of history to be having
to have to keep...

i switched from whiskey to *****...
my temperament is stricter: wiser:
more prone to acknowledging self-mistaking
self-propeller with self-block-blockage-also-alias-a-self.

new *****: artsian spelling my-stakes:
mistakes...
away from rye and whiskers, mrs.:
party boy drinks only *****
alone...
prayer boy drinks whiskey straight: at a party:
please don't confuse or conflate
my CIS-HUBRIS
         ooh: the 007 chills!

— The End —