"kippah" poems - Hello Poetry

puffing out smoke like the entangling of long hair with my portable hookah of acid apple palette experienced; then eyelid the softest skin the warm puff puff experienced when unable to see the gaseous entangle of thus compared: cut off the eyelids and become serpents, rather than circumcising exchanging loss of masculine additives with excess of feminine pin points of skin like the bloating of the throat: larynx region with a thyroid cancer bubbling and blubbering: circumcise and make men eagerly warring... and women prone to consecrate approval as if dreaming... a naked sword without a sheath... but instead of circumcision, the cutting off ******** cut the eyelids! what then? i'd begin revision of man by cutting off the eyelids rather than the ******** **** me, why not both?! cut the eyelids and cut the ******** then narrate what excesses of womankind are worth disregarding: feminine ******** and perverted religion, hey, excess skin of man was the culprit once, now the woman's chance to equate kippah with a monk's hairstyle, with her own slit of niqab and postbox of forcing through a hole as narrow / as tight so that an object capably sat on can be delivered.

0

Mar 3, 2016

Mar 3, 2016 at 4:25 PM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

cut off the eyelids with the ******** to get m.g.m.

puffing out smoke like the entangling of long hair with my portable hookah of acid apple palette experienced; then eyelid the softest skin the warm puff puff experienced when unable to see the gaseous entangle of thus compared: cut off the eyelids and become serpents, rather than circumcising exchanging loss of masculine additives with excess of feminine pin points of skin like the bloating of the throat: larynx region with a thyroid cancer bubbling and blubbering: circumcise and make men eagerly warring... and women prone to consecrate approval as if dreaming... a naked sword without a sheath... but instead of circumcision, the cutting off ******** cut the eyelids! what then? i'd begin revision of man by cutting off the eyelids rather than the ******** **** me, why not both?! cut the eyelids and cut the ******** then narrate what excesses of womankind are worth disregarding: feminine ******** and perverted religion, hey, excess skin of man was the culprit once, now the woman's chance to equate kippah with a monk's hairstyle, with her own slit of niqab and postbox of forcing through a hole as narrow / as tight so that an object capably sat on can be delivered.

28

There is a paper in my room, it is between the paints and the seforim, folded neatly in two. It says “This is a manifesto.” It says, “Here is a safe place for people who are tired, tired of words like “religious” For people who don’t care if your kippah is knit or black velvet or a crown made of fur. Who know that the color of your shirt does not determine the extent of your belief, who are tired of hearing “modern” as an insult. Who have worked hard to find truth, who have done our best to be good, who have been told how good we are or how not, even if we had not asked. We are not the kollel wives of Har Nof, the kabbalists of Tzfat, the pilgrims of Hevron. We are all of them collectively. We have never thrown a rock, or spit on a child. We are the talmidim and talmidot of David HaMelech, whose own family thought he was a ******* child, who wrote poetry and composed on a harp, who sang and danced on a mountain top whose differences made him holier. We know today his daughters would not get into the best Beis Yaakov. Our differences make us holier, and we are not afraid anymore. Of desire to be accepted suppressing the ways we connect to the Infinite. We have been taken out of context. We have seen yiras shmaim replaced by yiras rabbeim. We are changing the minchag hamakom. We are a generation ready for the descendant of David HaMelech and Avraham Avinu, two leaders whose courage to be different shifted the course of the world. We think “alternative” has become a four-letter word because it is a synonym for “choice” We are asking questions, we are using our gifts. You are welcome to join us for a meal, or maybe a revolution.” There is a paper in my room, it is between the paints and the seforim, folded neatly in two, with spaces at the bottom for 13.4 million signatures. It says “This is a manifesto.” There is a paper in my room, I am looking for a door to hang it on.

0

Aug 29, 2012

Aug 29, 2012 at 4:20 PM UTC

as-1

Shma

There is a paper in my room, it is between the paints and the seforim, folded neatly in two. It says “This is a manifesto.” It says, “Here is a safe place for people who are tired, tired of words like “religious” For people who don’t care if your kippah is knit or black velvet or a crown made of fur. Who know that the color of your shirt does not determine the extent of your belief, who are tired of hearing “modern” as an insult. Who have worked hard to find truth, who have done our best to be good, who have been told how good we are or how not, even if we had not asked. We are not the kollel wives of Har Nof, the kabbalists of Tzfat, the pilgrims of Hevron. We are all of them collectively. We have never thrown a rock, or spit on a child. We are the talmidim and talmidot of David HaMelech, whose own family thought he was a ******* child, who wrote poetry and composed on a harp, who sang and danced on a mountain top whose differences made him holier. We know today his daughters would not get into the best Beis Yaakov. Our differences make us holier, and we are not afraid anymore. Of desire to be accepted suppressing the ways we connect to the Infinite. We have been taken out of context. We have seen yiras shmaim replaced by yiras rabbeim. We are changing the minchag hamakom. We are a generation ready for the descendant of David HaMelech and Avraham Avinu, two leaders whose courage to be different shifted the course of the world. We think “alternative” has become a four-letter word because it is a synonym for “choice” We are asking questions, we are using our gifts. You are welcome to join us for a meal, or maybe a revolution.” There is a paper in my room, it is between the paints and the seforim, folded neatly in two, with spaces at the bottom for 13.4 million signatures. It says “This is a manifesto.” There is a paper in my room, I am looking for a door to hang it on.

86

arequipa central has 530 registered buildings according to the world heritage archive, and this room this bar these four old couches are supported by eighteen foot ceiling, four foot thick walls, limestones urged from the earth in forever ago, so when the earth shakes there's somewhere to go. this morning I couldn't finish my coffee but climb in a bus with a man who said the mountains, here, were once people too. misti & wife chachani, urged from the earth in forever ago once fought with such destruction that God, in His almighty Wisdom sundered and separated and a canyon placed between their penitent heads all bowed surrendered in caps of snow. but every age or so she is much taller but he, a volcano, spews and spits she stands and we carve out the earth in hollow dens, so when it shakes there's somewhere to go. and they say when the ground gives way, you all you can do, is to look up and see snow. in the holy talmud they wrote, cover thine head in order that the fear of heaven may be upon the living. and conduct great sorrows on the those who dwell below.

0

Apr 21, 2013

Apr 21, 2013 at 3:45 AM UTC

j-Arturo

kippah

arequipa central has 530 registered buildings according to the world heritage archive, and this room this bar these four old couches are supported by eighteen foot ceiling, four foot thick walls, limestones urged from the earth in forever ago, so when the earth shakes there's somewhere to go. this morning I couldn't finish my coffee but climb in a bus with a man who said the mountains, here, were once people too. misti & wife chachani, urged from the earth in forever ago once fought with such destruction that God, in His almighty Wisdom sundered and separated and a canyon placed between their penitent heads all bowed surrendered in caps of snow. but every age or so she is much taller but he, a volcano, spews and spits she stands and we carve out the earth in hollow dens, so when it shakes there's somewhere to go. and they say when the ground gives way, you all you can do, is to look up and see snow. in the holy talmud they wrote, cover thine head in order that the fear of heaven may be upon the living. and conduct great sorrows on the those who dwell below.

28

*question is, motörhead (motoorhead) or hawkwind? given hawkwind's magnu... yeah, the latter.* i told you about it, about the despair as a reader jailed together with ezra pound writing the pisan cantos, LXXVII gave me a reader's constipation, hardly a digested piece of work, but then the sky was gloomy grey atypical of england, and i forced myself to read the piece having left it mid-way; well, i was reading an article on ************ and an abstinence from it on vice news... apparently the benefits and the cons are a debate akin to a swing: to and fro... scientific objectivity (nearly an -ism), a ******* pendulum... tick, tock, tick, tock, la la la, ha, etc. so i got reading the canto, and suddenly the sun came out bold enough to look at forms to caste shadows of them... weird shamanism or just chance opportunism, but if you get my drift, you wonder at the brush and the brush-strokes, the sun the brush, the canvas well atmosphere, and the paintings shadows in luminescent anorexia... my drift though: the a new directions paperback of the cantos, page 491... the verse about the army politics and the exquisite use of grammatical terms as decisive shortening of events... i.e. noun: chair, tree, armadillo, bed, head... adjective: chewy chow mein... etc. that gave me the giggles... and indeed Pope Francis told the Rolling Stones to not play a free concert on good friday in Cuba... but they did anyway... i say, someone please steal the pope's kippah! it's a farce him adorning it post-holocaust!

0

Mar 28, 2016

Mar 28, 2016 at 5:31 AM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

passing canto LXXVII

*question is, motörhead (motoorhead) or hawkwind? given hawkwind's magnu... yeah, the latter.* i told you about it, about the despair as a reader jailed together with ezra pound writing the pisan cantos, LXXVII gave me a reader's constipation, hardly a digested piece of work, but then the sky was gloomy grey atypical of england, and i forced myself to read the piece having left it mid-way; well, i was reading an article on ************ and an abstinence from it on vice news... apparently the benefits and the cons are a debate akin to a swing: to and fro... scientific objectivity (nearly an -ism), a ******* pendulum... tick, tock, tick, tock, la la la, ha, etc. so i got reading the canto, and suddenly the sun came out bold enough to look at forms to caste shadows of them... weird shamanism or just chance opportunism, but if you get my drift, you wonder at the brush and the brush-strokes, the sun the brush, the canvas well atmosphere, and the paintings shadows in luminescent anorexia... my drift though: the a new directions paperback of the cantos, page 491... the verse about the army politics and the exquisite use of grammatical terms as decisive shortening of events... i.e. noun: chair, tree, armadillo, bed, head... adjective: chewy chow mein... etc. that gave me the giggles... and indeed Pope Francis told the Rolling Stones to not play a free concert on good friday in Cuba... but they did anyway... i say, someone please steal the pope's kippah! it's a farce him adorning it post-holocaust!

42

He wasn't anything. He wasn't white. He wasn't black Or brown Or peach Or tangerine. He could have been green. Was he Asian? Middle Eastern? Did he wear a kippah, A keffiyeh? He wasn't anything. I bet he didn't even Have a belly button. He came before the race. He was nothing, He was earth.

0

Oct 15, 2013

Oct 15, 2013 at 12:43 PM UTC

batya-brown

The First Man

He wasn't anything. He wasn't white. He wasn't black Or brown Or peach Or tangerine. He could have been green. Was he Asian? Middle Eastern? Did he wear a kippah, A keffiyeh? He wasn't anything. I bet he didn't even Have a belly button. He came before the race. He was nothing, He was earth.

18

for all the lampooning and clowning, i guess it's true: a white in a samuel l. jackson memento of the kangol new age hatting: as they say: pigeon drools wet hot **** onto your upper part it's only lucky should you be wearing a bowler, top hat, a samuel jackson signature or a kippah. but it's january and it's dreary, and i could be forgiven on the circumstances but i won't be with fakes and my generation, and you'll just tell me: your addiction has turned into a metabolism, it's no longer psychoactive, you proved the soul, as much as anyone, but mainly your own, by losing the psychoactive ingredient effect of alcohol and enabling alcohol to claim a metabolism, a body, rather than a teenager's soul binge drinking... thank god you're conscious of it, and nihilistic enough to continue.

0

Jan 14, 2016

Jan 14, 2016 at 7:50 AM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

http://tiny.cc/zja57x

for all the lampooning and clowning, i guess it's true: a white in a samuel l. jackson memento of the kangol new age hatting: as they say: pigeon drools wet hot **** onto your upper part it's only lucky should you be wearing a bowler, top hat, a samuel jackson signature or a kippah. but it's january and it's dreary, and i could be forgiven on the circumstances but i won't be with fakes and my generation, and you'll just tell me: your addiction has turned into a metabolism, it's no longer psychoactive, you proved the soul, as much as anyone, but mainly your own, by losing the psychoactive ingredient effect of alcohol and enabling alcohol to claim a metabolism, a body, rather than a teenager's soul binge drinking... thank god you're conscious of it, and nihilistic enough to continue.

23

it's not so much about aliens these these, more cerebral mysteries, of, for example, the placebo effect, of, thought transcending (somehow) parameters, creating an actual chemical equivalent of a magic mushroom ingestion - there's no talk of the existential transcendent ego, as duly written transcendent "ego", but then if you're unable to identify your self, how can you identify transcendence? transcendental thinking means you can still retain your self in the everyday, like when you suddenly get an idea and ramble on in writing, that's transcendental thinking, like taking a drug, you return to the pit of your self's parabola - oddly enough the highs and the lows are both zeniths of the parabola's limits, and your self the nadir, nadir because expected to become dynamic and reach the antonym zeniths. as modern science made it clear to which i retort: and why would i want to believe in a straitjacket of theories and unexplainable anomalies, and why would i want to freely put that **** thing on, i put that straitjacket on and i might as well ask for puppet strings, with the puppeteer (god) already argued non-existent; oh right, so i got dressed up for no ****** reason, and my date stood me up?! it would have been less trouble donning a dog-collar of a priest's supposed chastity of talk (no, not concerned with not cursing, cursed with telling the truth); i think i'll just paddle across the atlantic in a rabbi's kippah for a boat.

0

Mar 13, 2016

Mar 13, 2016 at 6:16 PM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

six episodes of the x-files

it's not so much about aliens these these, more cerebral mysteries, of, for example, the placebo effect, of, thought transcending (somehow) parameters, creating an actual chemical equivalent of a magic mushroom ingestion - there's no talk of the existential transcendent ego, as duly written transcendent "ego", but then if you're unable to identify your self, how can you identify transcendence? transcendental thinking means you can still retain your self in the everyday, like when you suddenly get an idea and ramble on in writing, that's transcendental thinking, like taking a drug, you return to the pit of your self's parabola - oddly enough the highs and the lows are both zeniths of the parabola's limits, and your self the nadir, nadir because expected to become dynamic and reach the antonym zeniths. as modern science made it clear to which i retort: and why would i want to believe in a straitjacket of theories and unexplainable anomalies, and why would i want to freely put that **** thing on, i put that straitjacket on and i might as well ask for puppet strings, with the puppeteer (god) already argued non-existent; oh right, so i got dressed up for no ****** reason, and my date stood me up?! it would have been less trouble donning a dog-collar of a priest's supposed chastity of talk (no, not concerned with not cursing, cursed with telling the truth); i think i'll just paddle across the atlantic in a rabbi's kippah for a boat.

19

*primarily because of daylight, and younger brother's song: evil and harm; and last night.* you know what i keeping conjuring in my head? stapling the cheat's kippah of a pope, to his head... and then tugging him by it through the streets of rome... i'm way past jokes, i'd literally staple the hierarchical to old alec baldwin's head, and then tow him, drag him... through the streets of rome... i mean... you make the pope a saint? well... that's a first, why would popes be saints if they can't decide upon being a pope, emeritus? pope ratzinger (benedict XVI) is the only saint... with what grace! with what grace he settled for a nunnery! fuck me! but he's not considered a saint! that's awful, really, that's absolute filth! oh yeah... double point: the pope's "kippah" (so called) - like these fake jews ruling over us with an iron grip? ever notice the ****** on the top of it? no? never noticed the ****** on the "kippah"? it's not even a ******* kippah by then, but a.... béret français: and if you're into linguistics, try these alternatives: bə'rā (bé ray) thrą'sé bé'ré φρąsay - parle poo? qui, parle poo, anglais - on-a-glare... with! with! with a glare! oh ******* 'ell... the french aesthetic for spelling: λoγoς... and then the actual pronounciation, i.e. the φoνoς? miles apart! they're not as bad as the english, but they're ******* worse than king arthur's sons. the comparison? you see an aeroplane in the sky... and then you sort of see the shoom five miles back... you have to remember two languages... the french and the english are naturally "bilingual" - it's not that you say one thing and mean another, you have to ******* write one thing, and say another: so the λoγoς is the aeroplane... and the shoom? that's the φoνoς... or the once fabled television static being the remnants of the big bang.... well, isn't that an ingenious name for the beginning of everything... big... bang... and a ******* firecracker whilé you're at it. so yeah, if you never experienced an asiatic invasion akin to a mongol horde... you will not have clear, distinct syllable distinctions... you'll be like a vampire saying: blah, blah blah, blah.... or bleh bleh bleh, bleh; minus the hatch? hetch? hay't'ch? blá, blá blá.... alt. blé blé blé, blé. considering style though? reading heidegger is, seriosuly, sometimes akin to watching liberace play the trombone; all those italics and non-footnote dittoes... a bit like watching an apple balancing on a watermelon and calling it tango.

0

Apr 29, 2017

Apr 29, 2017 at 12:56 PM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

a very wonderful image in my head

*primarily because of daylight, and younger brother's song: evil and harm; and last night.* you know what i keeping conjuring in my head? stapling the cheat's kippah of a pope, to his head... and then tugging him by it through the streets of rome... i'm way past jokes, i'd literally staple the hierarchical to old alec baldwin's head, and then tow him, drag him... through the streets of rome... i mean... you make the pope a saint? well... that's a first, why would popes be saints if they can't decide upon being a pope, emeritus? pope ratzinger (benedict XVI) is the only saint... with what grace! with what grace he settled for a nunnery! fuck me! but he's not considered a saint! that's awful, really, that's absolute filth! oh yeah... double point: the pope's "kippah" (so called) - like these fake jews ruling over us with an iron grip? ever notice the ****** on the top of it? no? never noticed the ****** on the "kippah"? it's not even a ******* kippah by then, but a.... béret français: and if you're into linguistics, try these alternatives: bə'rā (bé ray) thrą'sé bé'ré φρąsay - parle poo? qui, parle poo, anglais - on-a-glare... with! with! with a glare! oh ******* 'ell... the french aesthetic for spelling: λoγoς... and then the actual pronounciation, i.e. the φoνoς? miles apart! they're not as bad as the english, but they're ******* worse than king arthur's sons. the comparison? you see an aeroplane in the sky... and then you sort of see the shoom five miles back... you have to remember two languages... the french and the english are naturally "bilingual" - it's not that you say one thing and mean another, you have to ******* write one thing, and say another: so the λoγoς is the aeroplane... and the shoom? that's the φoνoς... or the once fabled television static being the remnants of the big bang.... well, isn't that an ingenious name for the beginning of everything... big... bang... and a ******* firecracker whilé you're at it. so yeah, if you never experienced an asiatic invasion akin to a mongol horde... you will not have clear, distinct syllable distinctions... you'll be like a vampire saying: blah, blah blah, blah.... or bleh bleh bleh, bleh; minus the hatch? hetch? hay't'ch? blá, blá blá.... alt. blé blé blé, blé. considering style though? reading heidegger is, seriosuly, sometimes akin to watching liberace play the trombone; all those italics and non-footnote dittoes... a bit like watching an apple balancing on a watermelon and calling it tango.

61

*apologies for not inviting the hebrew text, bit of an *** when encoded in html.* you never, ever! associate yourself with the keter, or the malkhut of the etz ha-chayim (tree of life), ever! why would i write such things, if not for your own safety? the last person who breached this rule was yeshua... and what was the reward? keter am-qowts - a crown of thorns... you have the 10 name association, keter through to malkhut (from crown to kingship) - but such are foundations for a god, a bitter price to pay, should you meditate on them... namely the crucifix - as the symbol of kingship, and the crown, as already stated. as men? what is important is the yesod, the foundation... shaddai el chai... but look how much choice you have! you can claim a yesod-bet-chokhmah (foundation in understanding), a yesod-bet-binah (foundation in wisdom), a yesod-bet-chesed (foundation in love), a yesod-bet-gevurah (foundation in strength), a yesod-bet-tiferet (foundation in beauty), a yesod-bet-netzach (foundation in victory), a yesod-bet-hod (foundation in splendor), you can have all that! and be free from associating yourself in a despotism of allowing the keter (crown) and the malkhut (kingship) to blind you, as it blinded yeshua... you are not to mediate the keter, nor the malkhut, but only the yesod... as being man, that is all that's required of you... for the keter, in man, is the kippah... and for the malkhut in man, is his home... how these two names blind men into seeking beyond their capacity to attract the other names, in man, the names *chokhmah, binah, chesed, gevurah, tiferet, netzach & hod* can only come to an agreed expression using only yesod... but should man try to impose the above names using primarily keter & malkhut - he will find himself, having forgotten the foundation, the yesod, that respects each virtues, by always returning to the first step of having seen, how an equilibrium can be be appropriated, and mediated... never mediate with the eyes of avarice, that are known as: keter & malkhut, or what was the downfall of yeshua / jesus "christ".

0

Aug 9, 2017

Aug 9, 2017 at 7:26 PM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

keter am-qowts

*apologies for not inviting the hebrew text, bit of an *** when encoded in html.* you never, ever! associate yourself with the keter, or the malkhut of the etz ha-chayim (tree of life), ever! why would i write such things, if not for your own safety? the last person who breached this rule was yeshua... and what was the reward? keter am-qowts - a crown of thorns... you have the 10 name association, keter through to malkhut (from crown to kingship) - but such are foundations for a god, a bitter price to pay, should you meditate on them... namely the crucifix - as the symbol of kingship, and the crown, as already stated. as men? what is important is the yesod, the foundation... shaddai el chai... but look how much choice you have! you can claim a yesod-bet-chokhmah (foundation in understanding), a yesod-bet-binah (foundation in wisdom), a yesod-bet-chesed (foundation in love), a yesod-bet-gevurah (foundation in strength), a yesod-bet-tiferet (foundation in beauty), a yesod-bet-netzach (foundation in victory), a yesod-bet-hod (foundation in splendor), you can have all that! and be free from associating yourself in a despotism of allowing the keter (crown) and the malkhut (kingship) to blind you, as it blinded yeshua... you are not to mediate the keter, nor the malkhut, but only the yesod... as being man, that is all that's required of you... for the keter, in man, is the kippah... and for the malkhut in man, is his home... how these two names blind men into seeking beyond their capacity to attract the other names, in man, the names *chokhmah, binah, chesed, gevurah, tiferet, netzach & hod* can only come to an agreed expression using only yesod... but should man try to impose the above names using primarily keter & malkhut - he will find himself, having forgotten the foundation, the yesod, that respects each virtues, by always returning to the first step of having seen, how an equilibrium can be be appropriated, and mediated... never mediate with the eyes of avarice, that are known as: keter & malkhut, or what was the downfall of yeshua / jesus "christ".

79

every revolution requires a caste of butchers... the men who would drop the guillotine blade with a set of morals, or bascially, without qualms... me? i'm not so ******* jew-ridden sensitive regarding words said, or unsaid... i'm not m.g.m. ridden, i'm not thin-skinned like the jews, ******* have been whipping ***** juice for some time... now the cream has turned.... sour... oh now they're bothered, smoke-signalling from north america, ejected from europe, now they're howdy-howdy proud-e... kippah for a chinese soup bowl... manage that, ******** what, your payots not the vogue dreadlocks you expected? go on, twirl for me, fork a tangle of spaghetti! you can can call me **** given that my great-grandmother fed my grandmother opiates to shut her up so the nazis wouldn't discover them on the front... hell... i'll even shake your hands prior to giving the ******* salute! call it! call it! let's dodge ball... hard to see the butchers; easier spotting fictional wizards... never mind the herd, the herd will always object, they always seem to do so... the butchers are never far behind, neither is the guillotine... if the luftwaffe were prescribed pervitin... i'm starting to ensure an image of the butchers... it begins softly, with words... after the words die off, the jean-claude van damme action flicks pick up speed... women... ah, what a suckling weakness... they love the word troll, even though they're allowed to use it, only on the basis of it being a misnomer... she really wanted to write a bestseller book aged 18, retired at 35... **** life got in the way, meaning: other people... **** maybe next time, honey-bun-bun-annie... maybe next time, hopefully the next-to-near-to-never... again; einst sollte machen es; once again, pardon english grammar written in german... i just had to make a joke out of the: gootten ęglischen achçung... die gut akzenzé.

0

Jul 11, 2017

Jul 11, 2017 at 9:05 PM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

heil sonne! heil mond!

every revolution requires a caste of butchers... the men who would drop the guillotine blade with a set of morals, or bascially, without qualms... me? i'm not so ******* jew-ridden sensitive regarding words said, or unsaid... i'm not m.g.m. ridden, i'm not thin-skinned like the jews, ******* have been whipping ***** juice for some time... now the cream has turned.... sour... oh now they're bothered, smoke-signalling from north america, ejected from europe, now they're howdy-howdy proud-e... kippah for a chinese soup bowl... manage that, ******** what, your payots not the vogue dreadlocks you expected? go on, twirl for me, fork a tangle of spaghetti! you can can call me **** given that my great-grandmother fed my grandmother opiates to shut her up so the nazis wouldn't discover them on the front... hell... i'll even shake your hands prior to giving the ******* salute! call it! call it! let's dodge ball... hard to see the butchers; easier spotting fictional wizards... never mind the herd, the herd will always object, they always seem to do so... the butchers are never far behind, neither is the guillotine... if the luftwaffe were prescribed pervitin... i'm starting to ensure an image of the butchers... it begins softly, with words... after the words die off, the jean-claude van damme action flicks pick up speed... women... ah, what a suckling weakness... they love the word troll, even though they're allowed to use it, only on the basis of it being a misnomer... she really wanted to write a bestseller book aged 18, retired at 35... **** life got in the way, meaning: other people... **** maybe next time, honey-bun-bun-annie... maybe next time, hopefully the next-to-near-to-never... again; einst sollte machen es; once again, pardon english grammar written in german... i just had to make a joke out of the: gootten ęglischen achçung... die gut akzenzé.

82

so glottal, that arabic is, it would amuse me to hear an arab recite these two words as someone chinese attempting a trill on the R... let alone a frenchman having to stop harking that letter out, or the english applying the numbing, linguistic anaesthetic to it, i.e. amuse me: gregory brzęczyszczykiewicz herr otto, standartenjunker (borrowed from the cult film: how i started the second world war)... or: stół z powyłamywanymi nogami - gutton gutton clob kup-ah! glutton q k, mmm'kab, mmm'qab... ******* linguistic turkeys; help! help! he's choking! he's about to swollow his tongue! heimlich! quick! maneuver maneuver! run around the poor ******** in circles, chanting magic spells in cymru, while clapping like a seal in between rubbing your stomach and patting yourself on the head, for a kippah, akin to manna to descend from heaven!

0

Jun 24, 2017

Jun 24, 2017 at 11:28 AM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

teasing an arab

so glottal, that arabic is, it would amuse me to hear an arab recite these two words as someone chinese attempting a trill on the R... let alone a frenchman having to stop harking that letter out, or the english applying the numbing, linguistic anaesthetic to it, i.e. amuse me: gregory brzęczyszczykiewicz herr otto, standartenjunker (borrowed from the cult film: how i started the second world war)... or: stół z powyłamywanymi nogami - gutton gutton clob kup-ah! glutton q k, mmm'kab, mmm'qab... ******* linguistic turkeys; help! help! he's choking! he's about to swollow his tongue! heimlich! quick! maneuver maneuver! run around the poor ******** in circles, chanting magic spells in cymru, while clapping like a seal in between rubbing your stomach and patting yourself on the head, for a kippah, akin to manna to descend from heaven!

35

lunch? yes, lunch. what will it be, herr vielefurz? bring me, oh noble page, 3 czech beers. funny, as a pole, i can see the downfall of germany, and as nietzsche predicted, the deutsche: wächter von kreuz... and to see it, well... i am seeing germany topple, and i didn't even have to lift a finger, well, i had to do something: so i farted while sitting in an armchair; in polish it sounds a bit different: mazel tov! oh wait, that's jewish... á jom patru patru na to szambo, i se myślom... pinknie... i se pier**dziáłem w fotel na to ganz popierdolenie: ojra ojra, hurrrrr'ah! sto lat takich lat jak tych! sto lat, sto lat, niech żyje nam, sto lat, sto lat, niech żyje nam! eins hundret, eins hundret, damit leben für uns! germany... it's your.... birthday! wanna see the prezzies? ah... go on... titanic is sinking, might as well open them, while the orchestra plays! orchestra! play! play! and let us sing: sha! shtil! makht nisht keyn gerider der rebe geyt shoyn tantsn vider sha! shtil! makht nisht keyn gevalt der rebe geyt shoyn tantsn bald... and they took their root into the home they made, and made their language the mongrel ******* of yiddish... while in poland: they still spoke with a "funny" accent... as stanisław wokulski would testify, in the novel the doll, by bolesław prus. p.s. i once heard a jew complain that he be called that, a jew... ah... but wouldn't it be more offensive, if i called you a *** he blushed, and took off his kippah; well then, hebrye.

0

Aug 12, 2017

Aug 12, 2017 at 10:47 AM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

freude aus eine gurt

lunch? yes, lunch. what will it be, herr vielefurz? bring me, oh noble page, 3 czech beers. funny, as a pole, i can see the downfall of germany, and as nietzsche predicted, the deutsche: wächter von kreuz... and to see it, well... i am seeing germany topple, and i didn't even have to lift a finger, well, i had to do something: so i farted while sitting in an armchair; in polish it sounds a bit different: mazel tov! oh wait, that's jewish... á jom patru patru na to szambo, i se myślom... pinknie... i se pier**dziáłem w fotel na to ganz popierdolenie: ojra ojra, hurrrrr'ah! sto lat takich lat jak tych! sto lat, sto lat, niech żyje nam, sto lat, sto lat, niech żyje nam! eins hundret, eins hundret, damit leben für uns! germany... it's your.... birthday! wanna see the prezzies? ah... go on... titanic is sinking, might as well open them, while the orchestra plays! orchestra! play! play! and let us sing: sha! shtil! makht nisht keyn gerider der rebe geyt shoyn tantsn vider sha! shtil! makht nisht keyn gevalt der rebe geyt shoyn tantsn bald... and they took their root into the home they made, and made their language the mongrel ******* of yiddish... while in poland: they still spoke with a "funny" accent... as stanisław wokulski would testify, in the novel the doll, by bolesław prus. p.s. i once heard a jew complain that he be called that, a jew... ah... but wouldn't it be more offensive, if i called you a *** he blushed, and took off his kippah; well then, hebrye.

66