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Mateuš Conrad Sep 2018
. bye bye, ms. american pie...

ever find a hallucination
of a strawberry in a cigarette?
or a vanilla ice-cream cone
in a bottle of rye?

dear ms. amber, dear ms. amber,
dear mr, john smithy...
could i possibly take ylur daughter
to the dance?

may you be the beauty i sometimes
expected as a wife...
who heeds ****...
just listen to teenage girls prior
to the "ultimate" loss
of virginity...

to name but one...
she clearly lost her sort of bit,
Madonna music immunity....
to boot...
       abooktopia...

does that word mean anything
without a children's book
contracts by publishers?
or therefore, with?

                 i forgot to ensure
curating an interest in...
    to overcome the summary
of the crude encompassing of...
klaus doldinger....

              erinnerung...

    tod spricht vorausgehend
       zu leben...


it's almost funny...
people with the sole capacity to
recite...
merely ******,
  Himmler,
        Göring,
                   Goebbels...
      
               but i thought Nazis were
in season?
i thought society required Nazis?!
   such a pithy...
such puny recitals!
               almost all of the WWI soldiers
under Wilhelm were
deemed heroes...
      thank **** that i'm not even
a quarter German...
given... what the united powers
did converging over
Berlin... with the ***** epidemic...

    even though i'm Polish...
and i remember my great-grandmother
hiding from both the Nazis and
the Red Army...
you want a ******* villain...
i'll be a **** for you...
no problem...

                      i sort of have a fetish
for the Dritte ***** uniforms...
       lodged in a Indiana Jones movie...
**** it...
suit up and boot me in into
the act...
            i don't mind...
what you can't take away
from the Nazis that you can take
away from all other antagonists...
pristine tailoring!
     you can't match up
to whatever axis / empire of evil...
and "think"
you can out-compete
the tailoring of **** uniforms...
no chance in hell...
however many
pineapples harvey keitel
shoves up Adolf ******'s ***...
  
it's still Armani grey when it comes
to the uniformed officers
of the the Wehrmacht...
as it is the: sly "little" number...
for the Coco Chanel... SS
splinter, base, bias, *****.

if people are so desperate for
a ****?  
  can you really starve the people?
and not give them one?!
that would be most cruel...
i think people deserve a bull's eye!

you're most welcome...
   there i was, suffocating on the fact...
that you were disorientated...
and pointing at false actors of...
what you expected to be
the motivational enzyme -
sole curator,
               of forwarding history;

why didn't these people come to
me sooner?
  i would have played the **** sooner!
Ugo Jul 2012
The beauty of comatose can only be seen through
the eyes of a wizard in a blizzard
strutting in garlic slippers,

or Christ with knees bent at the tabernacle
peeling bananas and kicking prayers
farther than eternity with each gapping second,

or like Basquiat slumped back to the wall,
with ounces of speedball dancing through his veins,
eating 80’s free-based fried chicken *******  

as his eyelids paints beautiful nightmares of lemon flowers
and Bacchus bacon over a glycopyrrolate desert
of flagrant cuckold buffoonery.

Or like leprechauns burning chocolate ******* candles
on the mantle of Zion, sipping oatmeal sprinkled
with Staten Island malt liquor bacon.

or like Tupac reading the thoughts of Mother Shipton
through the daze of California cannabis
and hearing the ominous voice of Plutarch sing death assignments

from heaven to Assassins on horsebacks goggling ***** water
to wet the dry bones of their throats as they prepare to fulfill
the gospel of self-fulfilling prophecies of being fell by ***** bullets.

Or like sophisticated wallets of spice and kitchen characters in a bald head
cooking chemical kisses and 18 February nights under Moloch’s skin,
where constitutions are written in charcoal diaries with Egyptian ciphers and razors.

“I had rain sowed into the pockets of my sneakers and composed 1310 eulogies
at the basement of king David’s tower,” said the Kraftwerkian caricature,
as he dangles cigarettes in remembrance of Klaus Nomi and philosophizes on the proliferation
of poetic vandalism at urinals where modernism failed under the phosphorescence of coloration at the avenue of no trees where Picasso's "Guernica" **** Lies All.
http://www.amazon.com/OLAF-Nothing-Above-Fiction-ebook/dp/B009XZ9OVY/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid;=1353822133&sr;=8-1&keywords;=olaf+last+king+of+nothing
'Well I think it's outrageous'
The snow was falling
'What is outrageous'
A snowball wanged past her right ear
'That there is a Santa Klaus'
A large ****** of bells was heard
'Of course there is'
Ten dwarfs strolled past
'Oh no there isn't'
'Jingle bells , jingle bells'
'Stop it , or we'll be'
Jingle all the way'
'Like this all night'
'Hurrah for good old Santa Klaus'
'O.K. maybe there is'
'Hurrah for Christmas day'
'And maybe there isn't'
A woman walked past
Carrying a giant Christmas tree
'O.K. this Santa Klaus bloke'
Followed by a black cat
'Mistake'
'Who does he think he is'
A dwarf said 'hello Dancer'
'Well he's a nice chap that'
She ignored him
'Has white hair all over his head'
But stuck her tongue out
'All over his head , he'll be blind'
A stray reindeer went by
'No not over his eyes, everywhere , but'
Whistling a happy tune
'Sounds like a strange fellow to me'
Two hedgehogs were pulling crackers
'He also has a sled , pulled by reindeers'
A mouse went past on a pair of skis
'Ha Ha .Pull the other one, what does he do'
The coffee bar opened
'Gives presents out , all over the world'
The elves reached their workshop
'Now you're really joking'
And started making presents
" Oh not I'm not'
The fairies started to wrap them
'Oh yes you are'
The octopuses are not in this story
"Stop , stop , stop '
The sled was being filled
'Look I don't believe a word of it'
For millions of children
'But you have to Rudolph'.
Neville Johnson Jan 2019
Sue Venir loved Hugh Biquitous, but he was unreliable, so she confided this to her friend, Di Namic who confirmed he’d been seen with Penny Farthing and Miss Chevous. Then she ran into Ken Tucky, who’d just broken up with Jen Erator, and was known to hang with Mel N. Choly. Together, they and Dan Ube went to a party thrown by Perry Winkle at the house of Dana Point.

Con Valescence introduced Sue to Marine Layer who asked Mr. Tucky to join the conversation, and they’ve been conversing ever since. Lou Kemia couldn’t make the party as he was ill. This was confirmed by Nick Knack who’d been informed by Conrad Alert.

Penny Saver left early, heading over to the home of I. Stan Bul, who was throwing a celebration in honor of Hazel Nuts and Grant N. Aid, who were to be married by Will Power, though Miss Givings, his former girlfriend, did not approve. Celebrants included Buzz Saw, Ma Larkey, Ben E. Diction, ***** Pack and of course Ann I. Versary, who deemed it worthy of being remembered. Tom Foolery was always good for a laugh, which was appreciated by Art I. Face, Dee Vice and Tess Osterone.

Some chose to dine alfresco, notably Flora Fauna, Heidi **, and Ed U. Cate. Barb Ituate was a downer, though Ma Larkey tried to cheer her up, watched by Cliff Hanger who wanted to see what happened, until a dispute arose between Ana Conda and Ann Ticipation, who’d both been vying for the attention of Billy Goat.

Meanwhile, in another part of town, Terry Dactyl was in a dispute with Billy Club over Lilly White because of something Miss Conception had reported after hearing from that duo, Caesar Salad and Reuben Sandwich.

Junior Mints tried to mollify the situation with sugary statements, but was interrupted by Yuri Nal, who said he had to go, and then left with Jay Walking and they were off to congregate with Diane Tomeetya.

At the next table General Jive held court in a warlike mood,  that Cary Cature tried to lighten.  With them were Tex Arcana, whose accent was amusing to Bill Collector, Al Gorythm, Tim Buktu and Marv E. Lous, who always had a great time wherever he went.

By then, Bobby Pin, the luscious seamstress, had given up on Peter D. Out, after seeing him clowning around with Butch Wax and Slim N. None, all of them malcontents and disrupters.

In walked Daisy Chain, newly arrived  from the Southern Hemisphere, along with Sydney Australia. Klaus Trophobic had initially agreed to travel with the two of them, but said he had to stay at home. Frank O’Phile overhead this and confided to Phil O’Sophically that there is sometimes merit to such position.

The restaurant was owned by Ty ****, managed by Chuck Wagon, with the food delivered by waiters Clay *** and Terry Aki , assisted by busboyTara Misou.

The next morning, everyone gathered at the home of Dawn Patrol, who was there with her new husband, Earnest Money, after divorcing Perry Mutual. Deb Enture was her maid of honor.  Nick O’Time was nearly late to the party, driving in with Stu Debaker, via a shaky Uber driver named Manuel Shifting.

Al Acrity was his usual sunny self, but not when Den O’Thieves interrupted his conversation, which was shut down by Kay O.

Sherman Oaks and Van Nuys were late, having gotten mixed up on the location. Cliff Hanger was worried about the falling stock market, and as a result was getting drunk with Jack Daniels. Stan Dup was his usually assertive self, but was overshadowed by the always munificent Cy Pres.

Claude Hopper was dressed in yesterdays’ styles, but that didn’t matter to Dov Tail who  was going into business with Matt Chabox, known for his incendiary personality. They had two other partners to round the group out, **** Ular and Ben E. Fit.

Gar Gantuan loomed large, and was unstable when paired with Mo Mentum, who said in such situations, they needed to involve Otto Matic.

Terry Cloth was wrapped around Jan U. Ary, ogled by Barbie Queue and Coleman Lantern.
Babelyn Hije Jun 2020
Tuwing sumasapit ang Setyembre,
Ako ay kinikilig.
Makikita ko na ang mga parol
At mga christmas tree.

Napakagandang masilayan.
Bumabalik ang aking pagkabata.
Ako ay natutuwa
Makita at matanaw
Ko lamang.

Nang sumapit ang bisperas,
Kinabahan na ako,
Baka hindi na dumating
Ang bukas.

Umaga, kinabukasan.
Dali-Dali akong pumunta
Sa sinabit kong medyas.

Wala ka na doon.

Sa tingin ko,
Ako ay tumanda na.
At naintindihan
Na hindi si Santa Klaus
Ang naglalagay ng mga regalo.

Kayo pala
Inay at Itay.
Ishshita Chanda Apr 2014
As i was viewing the channel,
my eyes suddenly turned blank
i found myself in a deserted place
all i felt the place was haunted


As i looked around,
i found a crow sitting on a tree
i wondered where i was

As i was walking by,
to found out my way
i sensed something following me
i was so afraid even to turn back&
i kept on moving

Suddenly i felt my back was touch by someone,
but this time i took a dare to turn back
and to my wonder i saw a wolf
it roared at me,

Again another sound,
forced me to look around
and all i saw the two handsome vampires
"The salvatore brothers"

My eyes became still
My breath was hold
My body turned cold
i became pause
and i wonder are the wolf
"Klaus or tyler"

All i could see,
the vampires & wolfs fights
vampires protecting me from their fights

My dream to meet vampires,
My imagination
My hope
all was coming out to be real

Only my wish to became vampire was to be fulfilled,
i asked them to turned me up into a vampire,
i imagined myself being a vampire
my hot look
my vampire  teeth
my craving for blood
my fights with the wolf
all i could see my dreams in reality


But suddenly i was hit from bck "ouch"
and to my wonder it was my dad
everything vanished,no one was out there
it was just a dream ??
my wish only remained a wish


"Wish i could be vampire"
#fiction#
Nicole Fraser Oct 2013
It was up to him to save her.
He wanted to let her die,
Just to prove a point.

To show that there was no good in him,
He wanted to prove he was evil.
As she lay dying,
She told him what she could see.
"A man capable of love can be saved",
She told him genuinely.

He didn't want to believe her,
For she must be crazy in his eyes.
No matter what he thought,
He saved her,
He had always loved her.
That clearly showed,
He wasn't evil after all.
B L Costello Sep 2019
"He came from outer space to save the human race",
Black lips and painted face,
It was acquired taste,
You came so far,
You were not here long,
I still cry when I hear “The Cold Song”
A “Total Eclipse”
Life is not always fair,
But “Lightning Strikes”
And you were there,
Nomi,
Nomi,
What can we do?
Your name was a song,
But no one knew you…
And when you reached with lesioned
hands,
Friends backed up,
They did not understand,
You entertained,
We asked, what is it?
You said Nomi,
But no one would visit.
B L Costello © 2019
Performance pop history!  Does anyone remember him?  I found my vinyl and went there. Watch the documentary on YouTube! So sad he died of AIDS in the hospital. Early 80's!  Fear and ignorance. No one visited him
entropiK Nov 2010
must i long for
the scarlet rain
that
did not phlebotomise,

did not secrete
from  
codeine clouds,
    
                                                                        if  the milk would be spilt.


must i conceive ignus fatuus
colourcasts from the television
inside a mouth
that caterwauls
faces of static and pollen
and Klaus Nomi masks  

as if i were lobotomised
eating flowers fingered out of
the flesh of the brain

                                                                         carnations would not exist.


i do not want to believe
the promise
of  lovers were
merely  yous' and



eyes'.
no such world is eyeless.
or any less without eyes.

                                                                            become my chalk and bones.

i want to believe
humanity
is a defined mass
of bathypelagic insects

sleeping in chrysalids
longing to be
broken.

                                                                             break me.



i want to understand
there is an euxine ocean



beyond my bathtub.
haaa~ i l i k e to space the l e t t e r s

its  f u n .~
haha, k im overdoing it.
lol my bad!!!

enjoyy~
Kayla Lynn Mar 2013
Though the microscopic details of last night
Have effortless flooded out of my mind
And into her breath
I can still see all of the scenes
That I tried like hell to forget
But it's in her lungs
Like a piece of her
That she couldn't have possibly lived without
But will still soon let go
And forget
But it's there

Those words I mouthed as I realized
So swiftly
She doesn't know.

This girl that I met and instantly
Felt connected to
Like the frayed string of my favorite crimson sweater
Locked away in my closet
Finally stitched itself up
And it's Winter
And I still look half decent in red
So it's pressed against my skin once more

I sat there with the drugs between my teeth
Like I had something to prove
To myself
And the world
I'm still here you know, I'm still here
And even though I've pinky promised
And high-fived this girl
Like we grew up together
Eating the same dirt
She still doesn't know

She doesn't know all of the tragedy in my blood
And how I make Violet, Klaus, and Sunny jealous
Of my misfortune
A story so dark it would never win an award
But it happened
And it happened to me
And ripped me in half and activated my emptiness
Like depression is just a switch that only flips one way
A back plague that can only adhere itself to hope
And it's safe to say a dementor would starve
If I was left as it's only prey

So here we are,
And we're sharing a bowl laughing bitterly at memories
We wish we didn't have
Acting like we've moved on and built a bridge
Over the heart ache by simply laying down our jackets
On top of a puddle
But it wasn't that simple
I'm sitting in a pile of rubble and bricks with upside-down blueprints
In French
Slot A and B don't exist
And there is no simple way to forget the things
That once made us hole

I want a time machine so I can go back
And erase everything I ever ****** up
I want a time machine so I can flash forward
And see where the **** all of this is leading me to
I want a time machine
Because I'm sick of taking my life day by day
Scraping by, just praying to survive
Hoping someone will ride in on a white horse
With a suit of armor big enough for both of us
And a sword sharp enough to slice up my demons

I take my hit
And I stare at the girl I barely know
Wondering if her past can measure up to mine

She doesn't know.

She doesn't know how broken my heart was
On the day I learned it wasn't really shaped like that
She doesn't know that I was beautiful once
Before the scars took over my skin
She doesn't know

And maybe that's why we're friends.
The species and their somatic acquired deposits of DNA spirals, given their characteristics, they will make transformations in more than one taxon of cells for a homologous pair. Here Kaitelka the whale down from Sub-Mythology, will circle in the Baltic Sea, compromising neuralgia in it as a shallow essence due to its trisomy, making a comparison with psychic trisomies that Vernarth suffered at least four times a month, from the first and. Kaitelka individualized her cellular regressions, becoming a prehistoric cetacean and when she lagged beyond or before her creation, she transferred psychic trisomies due to her twenty-one chromosome. Kaitelka's karyotype was directed towards the crease of her eyes, due to an infection in the area of her basal inter fins that disturbed her heart rate in a short interval in which Poseidon magnified her coefficient in high amplitude, after being inseminated in her temperate state and gifted as a Super Goddess. Kaitelka in her nativity in the transversal valleys sailed in the air atmospheres of Hyperdisis and was always seen in the company of Leiak; omnipresent vague spirit of the watery ductile dancer, living on the liquefied element with her astringent slimy Chin ..., and seeing her with her grotesque back breaking lines and swamps between knuckles and edges of tricks inferred before the First station and in one of the

At seven hundred meters high she becomes Kaitelka Down godmother, adding the psychic chromosome twenty-two that contracts in connection with Vernarth in the paradoxical mountains when in the autumn afternoons they collect Ceratocystis fagacearum Mushrooms and irradiate insects such as borers. Kaitelka, when recovering her chromosome by detraction in the natural selection of Trisomy, expresses itself by spilling on the gelatinous dry leaves of all its dead cells and soon seeping into its retracted and frank adhesion membranes, causing recovery of its condition. After wandering and ringed symptoms of warning in the atmosphere of Horcondising, the vile of magnanimous effect and of challenge of the chromosome shed in the emulsion, the alpha proteins are contained in the entire transverted Vernarth genome, as a whole admonished and abundant diploid collection , before reaching the lethal processes of reciprocal adversity, both as zoo-anthropoid or triple zoo-anthropoid-botanical effect. Pre-Existing Kaitelka Down with forty-two chromosomes (22 pairs) and the Lepidoptera Agrodiaetus (134 pairs), in its haploid, that is, half and vitalizing between two species of the sub-mythological world, being in its psychic cellular compound, and later implant it in germ cells for the effect of psychic transmission in Venarthian ambivalence and vice versa. By discard, there are four fewer chromosomes than the hommo sapiens and 222 less than the Lepidoptera Agrodiaetus, for the goal of flourishing with the power of Poseidon, brother of Zeus, restoring the cardinals of the Earth and the Sea concomitant with the seventh portion of the sea. With Poseidon, above all psychic fluctuation and the powers of Kaitelka, in cognitive common that compresses the perception of its ultra-oceanic methodological current, analogous to this super cetacean, making it structural and semi-human in the super archeo volume and its kinetics, surpassing all neuro-mental state.

Meta sense and discernment, they will be cogitated brain by the conscious ones where their sensory cognitive is interrupted, towards an unconscious by means of photons of hypocaloric temperature, to define in their prehistoric psychological and psychic memory, more than random brain, coexisting with habeas corpus content and remote cerebral energy, before the magistracy and power of Poseidon, graduated and insurmountable in the southern seclusion of his memory asilated in his E-Cloud.  That is to say; stored in electromagnetic and electrophysiological stimuli, as weighted in square miles and in floating Poseidon starts, in super cetacean categories down, with only four meager chromosomes from the remnants of the human procedural genome. The trisomy field was now flaunted in anti-psychic fields, given the store cloud and self-grabbing, endowed by the square miles of Poseidon, attributing intrinsic substantiality defined by kinetic anthropo-morpho zoo hyper-readings, in profusion of totemic overflows that illustrated his complex individual base, knowing of atmospheric levitations in Kaitelka and of other magnanimous ones typical of his unknown skills of parapsychology suspended in waves of levitation and interbody Vernarthian descent, perceiving retractable surfaces of predominance of extra-sensory augural time and teleportation of identity, mind-brain and hyper-sensory as an established non-mental, physical or organic function, rather techno-organic and sub-mythological.

On the fourth of August of the year of the Lord, 1617, when Klaus Rittke was cleaning the main stained glass window of the Cathedral of Avignon, he heard heated dialogues between a Friar and a Gentleman, who was once an assistant to the clergy. Klauss could come closer and listen to their conversation more clearly, until Friar Andrés Panguiette, babbling, demanded from Raymond Bragasse indulgence or one or the other (Marielle Quentinnais compendium).  Relating in its narrative evolution, about some Albigenses of this work set in Avignon, time of the Antipopes, crossing with the psychic waves and of prophecies of who precisely Guillaume Bélibaste was born into a Cathar family.

Having noted that 1321 is 296 years different from Marielle Quentinnais, and takes place in Carcassonne on the same day as Bélibaste's execution, given his licentious life breaking Cathar dogmas, incriminating himself with civilians from the region, marrying women in exile, etc. , was condemned by the Holy Inquisition, where many were purged for the mere fact of holding biblical books in their abode. Among the flames of his bonfire the prophecy of the laurel will be homologated, whose shadow will fall on the centuries to come. Note the coincidence 3,700 years ago, where the first signs of life were appreciated on our planet and in the Hylates Forest in Cyprus (700,000 thousand souls), in the imprint that unifies the Christian scrolls, blowing gold dust on Walekiria's hair …, And being liberated, as a tartaric body of physicality. No one spoke, not even the 700,000 thousand souls who also claimed to be liberated (Vernarth, page 313 - paragraph 2). And finally seventh portion of the sea, with Poseidon. Here the Psychic numeral of Vernarth and Kaitelka coincide, who appear with the laurel of Guillaume de Bélibaste after almost seven years, preparing for the unification of the prophecy of the Laurel, whose shadow will hover over the centuries to come. Templars, perfect  bons homes and Cathars meet, in this historical feat, through the secret path safe from traitors and conspirators thanks to the most surprising allies. Bélibaste's fast-paced story will allow us to approach both the most unknown ceremonies and rituals of his confession, showing us his revelations in the flames and turning green in the Laurel of 1321 in sync with 2021, with a resurgence of liberation from creation and change. of spiritual consciousness, for the sake of a Belibaste with continue its current pre-existing history.

Given the little and nothing that exists in our revealing and psychic environmental enthronement, it should be noted that historical events fly like pollen and waves in their same wind vibrations. This entails the physical vibration material that is in every corner of our existentiality, without beginning or end, only spinning through the infinite axon of our karma and samskara, for convulsed and physical-ecological means and intermediates in the revealing countenance of the primitive psychic field before us, like the Aspis Koilé, as a shield or as a parabolic or omnidirectional antenna, bringing us in event after event that strangely interchange phases and processes intertwined with time in quantum physics and its subsequent biophysical changes in the genome chain and especially in his Psychic Trisomy.
Psychic Trisomy / Part 13
Ryan O'Leary Sep 2018
Dr. Klaus will be happy,
Fratricides and Pesticides
destroying The Greens,
trampling on Wildflowers,
Reversing s'ovloV & s'baaS
against the palindromic
monument to ABBA in
Soddermånland. Båstad's!
Election results.
Sweden Democrats.
SophiaAtlas Feb 2022
Klaus: I've finally conquered my fear of ghosts.

Ben: That's the spirit!

Klaus: Oh **** where?!
Alek Mielnikow Dec 2018
We were making love.

And when we finished,
you stuck your head
under those blue covers
and told me to come
for you. And I came
and penetrated your
fortress and canoodled
your chest as you
planted pecks on my
forehead. Then we
rested, and I told
you of the next best
thing on television
and you told me of
the book you were
reading. We talked of
the news though that
changed quickly. And
you mentioned the
first time you made
out with someone was
with a foreign exchange
student named Klaus
at a homecoming game.

You looked into my
eyes with your bright
limes and asked, “Do
you remember the first
time we kissed?” And
I could not recollect
and you giggled and
said, “Oh, don’t bother,
just forget it.” I
regret I still can’t
recall. But ever since
that November, that
car crash in the fall,
I remember that day.

I remember the way our
stinky, moist bodies
melted and molded
together under those
blue covers, and I
remember what I knew
of you. And after my
tears dry, and I have
swiped the dust, I
admire the night
through the window.

I can still smell you
on my pillows, and I
hold on to your warmth.

Your warmth.
If this didn't turn you on and/or made you cry, please check to see if you are human. : )
Skipping Stones Jun 2016
"Klaus Fuchs
did what
he had to do
like a good
harbinger,
there is virtue
in being faithful
to his cause"

this is where my
cousin's
brutally honest
syllogism
took me today

"a simplified view is
always what gets
you at the bottom
of a swamp"

this is where
he swings a club
and bounces back
from his recent bogey
against me



in the greens with Jim
Steve Page Dec 2016
Bare clean carpets
Make for a lonely house
But big boot prints
Means Santa Klaus

Somehow has delivered
To every household
His bones they creak
But don't feel the cold

He dresses in red
With a bottomless sack
He has quick feet
And a broad strong back

He works his magic
Year after year
Then races home
For a well earned beer

He guards our dreams
For a kinder world
Saint Nick he delivers
He never gets old 

So this Christmas
Open your mind
Stand with Santa
And break out the Kind.
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2017
tattoo the word Holocaust
onto the palm
   of every African-American....
and wait...
  Apache!
           hood crux pixie...
        ****** addicts in Westplate....
        and wait for a century...
give it 100 years in Auschwitz...
               or give it ***** hope for
a pear....
                           and then i'd too
coagulate into custard phlegm...
             auf wiedersehen lenin...
   contort hippie named contra...
               armed boa:
and that handshake...
                        hoarce Horace!
                  shatayin bigger, bottom-blob
bound into eminem....
                          and it was always
to be dirtied by luck...
                fetish...
   dodged and the dog and cameod
the crucifix...
                                       igloos in egypt:
senf (mustard) gaz (gas): khaki
                  diarhhea.  
                        gravitas in the grün...
mein iris... regen bonne hund!
                                    volphren kind...
                   prunes of y in iota said: dried out
kynd...
and pirates toward a je - taime calculator:
taming the berserk stierhund...
                                 bison-knirschen:
hans klaus -
                              myth-gate ᛋᛋ...
              bolt and Zeus...
                                 i am: heritage +.
              Croatian nazis....
                                  nicht, nic, die volk.
annehmen steuern... katakombe denken...
                          ᚠᚨᚱᛟᛖ ᛁᛋᛚᛖᛋ...
told: by a hobbit... or originating from Dublin:
****'s sake!
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2021
what should, could... what one would otherwise
do-not-do...
when language policing is so enforced
that i just... have to... punctuate a stutter or
at least suppose so on
a racial slur, a slurp-up stricken by ice,
and cold... and if lambs had elbows...
this modus operandi of post-colonial peoples
this crucifixion self-laceration
hard-on... which i want a taste of:
bad person, forever... murderer...
since there was no censor at work
around an added G: for giggle's worth...
and an existent R - although in english
there's no trill of it... no thrill, of it so...
nay bovver...
'aggis neeps 'n' tatties...
      otherwise the swede of the suede
is a bit like digesting blue & shoe...
once upon a time two bottles of wine
and i'd be off my rockers in
a little town in Essex where the women
are as fine as nuns and
sooner a cow-*****-******* for milk than...
Juan a-hey-presto... stand... night...
unbearable...
the less *** i've had the more
this... one-armed gambit does... the more...
of the trickery...
not overloading on the use
of a definite article...
but... it's so much easier to curl a hand
into a makeshift ******...
solipsistic *** lives... of... mostly men...
a bit like... regressing / seeing double...
homosexual ***-lives in literature from
the 20th century...
******* literature from the 20th century...
heterosexual antics of men
in the 21st century...
almost a: gleich scheiße,
           anders deckel...
                dekiel.... almost a loan word...
           living in close proximity of: zee schwaben
haben saschisch... aben aben...
perhaps the grammatical
juxtaposing is akin to ancient
Latin, my concern for: anders deckel
or deckel anders...
   same ****, different cover... cover's different...
overstating a fact with
a... conjunction or is it, is, the it...
preposition of... the it is is... Beckett's last
lunch... an hour of sunshine...
keep all chalky 'andy...
beside the apostrophe and the hyphen-conjugate...
glue's not glue:
blue is blue...
green is green...
but there's also... grue...
which is not... y'ella...

          a bluegreen: present grew:
for not yellow...

and i will... entertain... language policing...
over... slurring... past punctuation markers...
like... every time i see a choc-sensation...
no offense - you want the manure skin analogy...
because choc is counter-productive block...
well... let me get on my one remaining
good knee and play tongue the custard
for a Malcolm Noble...

     i would just hate to appease...
it's so ******* boring i'm turning into a boorish
**** of apathy...
by some lineage of argumentation
i've heard the lazy etymological
"argument" that...
from the Caucus... a ****-asian male...
the argument: Paul's a pole...
a pole a Paul's Paul...
            what's missing in... less than germ-
-anic...
                   like it's so simply
Slav(e)...

         less a ****** show & tell a whitey
clad in a bleached ghost necking-tie...
off-on-the-offensive...
   i.e. attack...
      there's a klaus nigge...
      a deutsche photographer...
there's... nigh-ger-ia...
            there's also a Nigh-Ger...
  giggle glutton... gargle... growing pains
in both groin... und gut...

cages i see cages i see tongues in iron
maidens i see souls in hell
and thoughts in limbo...

sound capture... i want to scoop some letters
as almost dead:

  ж = зъ = ż...
    imagine my disbelief at the lack of
orthographical aesthetic...
it only took a dot above the Z
to encourage...

perhaps in braille
perhaps in katakana:

         ⠛⠛⠗

         but letters as atoms of sound...
or methane...
ta-
         ma-
                      -ah
                                   -e contra -eh:
the tetragrammaton my vowel
catcher...
         no surprise of a fire...

hence the surd... like an apostrophe...
extending the saxon
spelling of words into compounds
in the field of chemistry...
a herr adams that wealth of the nations
shamed
jean-paul sartre... lived with his mother
because...

i'll have to leave it to stutter...
overtly punctuated...
no, no surprises...
it's a slur like it might be allowed
for urbanites
and listening to wap folk...
but no: wrap it up
on the horizon... already excluded...
so back to no drawing board...

spikes-up mein jerky chin of a Lee
and says: it's n'ah ah... LEAN...
****** my tongue is harsh but
not towing some unfathomable tie-up...
it's byzantine bilingual
but not... schizoid-teasing-afro-affluence...
like me taking a stab
at living in... h'almighty: Ghana...
visit... Raw-Andy... the Rwandese... plumber...

whereas the romantic affairs
of men are mostly... linear...
the romantic affairs of women
are... overbearingly... cyclic... thus...
what thus?

i'm strapped to a gimmick
and a pseudo expression of lingo...
i'm spineless... death-core....

replenishing the walking abortion(s)...
this ****-job of a man
this scrap heap of egg
and nullifying shells...
like this gargantuan homosexual
**** would never begin
or end with a flower-eater
quest for...
              a drunkard's ****, side...

there aren't enough hours in a day
to want to... beside having to...
listen to bbc radio 3...
once upon a time there was
me guilty of a radio 4 escapade...
but... where there's a t.v.
i'm pretty sure there's no fire-
                           -place....

like the old addition of curating
an attic space: might it be an "also"
cave... without ridicule...
underappreciated...
undermined... this tongue that
does the waggling...
like slurp majestic of floral pattern
*****... well...
i'm tired of the sort of freedom
thus, presented...

here comes the bundle... the bulge...
heaving criss-cross and X's
at the ha ha: stubble pin-point...
yahoo fro Idaho...
this whittle sort
of green patch of land 'n'
h'america..

    my yours truly...
       delving into shelved
secrecies of gluck-winding-back...
clock... there's the admiral...
the hour of our wait...
                the ice creasing a shallot being sliced...
the agony of the wait... the agony
of a yawn... the elongated

tears over an onion...
         if i could claim ownership
for a woman to deposit her
scrutiny of mortality...

yes, this shadow,
yes: this noon...
yes this dwarf of me in shadow grit
drifting toward an apart...

onions for the peel...
i tend to forget what and where
was... "fun"...
i'll hardly want to be left
having inherited
some variation of bias
with either children
or a grandiosity of grand-
   (angwy prefix lady said
so: sock 'em in)

        here's too, a forward...leisurerly
issued: from an Ottoman outpost...
i'm a bad man...
thought language police...
i'm a bad man...
i was inherently bad...
i'm bad i'm bad
i'm terribly... horridly...  anaemic... so...
self-lacerate moi...

cages in their 'eds...
language like afghan
******'s plenty..

better target practice with
those khaki attired
mustard clad foe...
to hell with the **-**-hoes...
i forget what's inclined by stressing
the dynamic of beta...
alpha resources...

as the crucified man said:
if i am not the alpha...
i'm not going to be
the BETA-BUCK-DELUX...

i'll be... last... omega.. "junction"...
yes... i'll be that... just that..
omega malph.
Gerard M Feb 2022
Number 1
The SPACEBOY who was sent to the moon for no reason
His powers are super strength and ape-like physiology
That is who number one is Luther Hargreeves

Number 2
The KRAKEN who was never a child but always a weapon
His powers are  perfect aim and trajectory manipulation
That is who number 2 is Diego Hargreeves

Number 3
The RUMOR whos powers gave her everything that she wanted
Her powers is mind control by lying
That is who number 3 is Allison Hargreeves

Number 4
The SÉANCE who's plagued with voices of the dead
His powers are mediumship and evocation
That is who number 4 is Klaus Hargreeves

Number 5
The KID who lost everything he ever had
His powers is teleportation through space and time
That is who number 5 is Five Hargreeves

Number 6
The HORROR who sadly died at such a young age
His powers are that he can summon tentacled monsters
That is who number 6 is Ben Hargreeves

Number 7
The WHITE VIOLIN who was a brother but never considered family
His powers are converting sound into energy
That is who number 7 is Victor Hargreeves
Kay-Rosa Aug 2019
When Klaus Hargreeves said,
"His
name was Dave,"
Everyone noticed the
silent emphasis that rang in the grief
behind his words.
The question, "Who was she?"
"His"
puts a sting in the back of the throat,
a pierce in the eyes,
pouring red, thick
truths from the soul.
Xanny Riddle Apr 2021
When will it be? The day that I would stop breathing, my skin would pale. When would it be? Is it tomorrow? Maybe now while I'm typing this letter. I can't answer it time will always tell when would that be. It can be either death will let you know that you're on a death bed, or you're just gonna end up dead, clueless. While having this kind of thought, probably someone in this world only got a second to live. And here I am wondering, when would time be? It's funny because for the past few days. Five days to exact, I had a good life. I've lived a life where I make jokes to my grandma, still lazy, but ain't depressed. And now I just saw a post that Helen Mccrory died, cancer it is. The killing machine of this world. A night like this makes me want to live. That's why I can't sleep because I'm afraid that I won't be going to wake in the morning. Probably because I always wake up in the afternoon. It is a joke. Please laugh. But seriously, death is inevitable. It is the same fate that everyone shares. Even Klaus Mikaelson can relate. There's this line of Klaus that pops in my head "What if there's nothing after this, no peace, just darkness?" What if that's how it ends? That'll be, I don't know. I don't know. I guess we are all victims of this life that they gave us. So let's live life while we can embrace the pain, enjoy the moment because death is certain, and after it is not.
But always remember that let time tells when would that be. So don't **** yourself. We are perfectly made into this Imperfect world to live an imperfect life. So be it. Don't waste it for just another lonely night.
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2022
working around the hyper-real... it was such a good idea,
to get rid of the natural grass and put "fake" grass
in the sections of the garden that required some greenery,
oddly enough: the fake doesn't feel like fake...
now i have a problem: i don't require a lawnmower...

i might need the leaf-blower to sometimes get rid
of leaves from the grass...
    the work is going slowly along... Sisyphus style...
but one tonne of sand... one tonne of pebbles...
working with the kango... working with that levelling
beast of a machine...
   father was working on the nitty-gritty detail of the slab
area for the table and bbq...
it's looking pretty...
          
so i was watering the flowers... some hanging...
i was watering the apple trees... the rhubarb that
went a-wall with these massive leaves...
the fig tree... the ferns... etc.
   after i watered all of my garden and started
talking to myself...
should i record this? no... i don't think the world
is deserving of this message...
i'll be speaking to the night and its phantoms...
i'll be speaking to conjure up a wind...
ha! "fame"... i'm passing through...
          i even managed to sing a little:
hieroglyphs in the sand...
hieroglyphs on papyrus and on the sphinx's
forehead... blah blah...

Tom Waits' Quixotic ramblings...
   a true retrospection...
               i'm not going to record any of this...
i'm a very private person...
mind you: this affair of me existing requires: ARBEIT...
work... i'm not after the easily accessible route...
for the people who ingest my productivity
to simply sit back...

it feels like an Infected Mushroom sort of drinking
session...
Muse Breaks... I'm the Supervisor...
hell... Bukowski wrote about the drudgery of work...
me? you ever spent your youth...
your 20s... figuring out how you didn't
encounter a monotheistic deity?
    
    die großatem?  wind and wind are interchangeable
when crossing borders between
spitfires and the messerschmidts...
    ****: messerschmitts...
  großluft... the angel-singing disperser...
tell that to someone who's 21 to shut the **** up...
i shut the **** up... i went missing for
about 10 years...

the great-breath...
                   my eyes opened and i was no longer
living in this world:
i began passing through it...
my eyes are still open... it's unlike any
hallucinogenic drug i could ingest...
i began my contemplating through the ears
and i still do...
by i see differently...

i was never going to record what i say
in private: to myself and the night...
it has become obvious to me:
once it was the abuse of power...
now... it's an abuse of technology...
and that's apparent... people have managed
to create a technology to abuse people
who in turn abuse the technology...
a synthetic alternative to ******* drugs...

to blink is equivalent to checking the screen
of your smartphone...
i remember the good old days of the internet...
do you think men do a lot of internet shopping?
personally... i'd love to return to the old
music store and the bicycle shop...
i will never get an order via an UBER or
JUST-EAT... i know someone will not eat...
what are the major complications of human
economics?! the solution begins with confiscating
the human libido...
but since capitalism has become rampant...
******* coupled with mass immigration:
somehow pointless jobs emerge...
well... not pointless...
but they're not jobs with the equivalence
for surgeons or dentists...

     that one time i thought: so why are these nurses
lining up to a singing contest?
they truly want to become mince meat
in the entertainment industry?!

i don't have the qualifications...
but i've been through some rough shifts...
"rough": ******* shifts...
i've heard of several instances of people
people let go...
me?! no interview... straight on the books...
i'm an employee...
the rest of the ******* are self-employed...
why? that question lasts about 2 seconds
before i realise...
   oh right... i'm good at my job...

i'm waiting for the time when the Wembley team
will want me to join them...
turns out i'm somehow an ambitious man...
im also post-psychotic...
so... danger danger...
     i've seen the horrors of a Bates Motel, sort of...
and i'm like... nothing human is alien to me...

Bukowski and the drudgery of work...
yeah... i have worked with some weirdos...
i don't mind... 10 years away from proper
civil contact with strangers...
i'm a fish in water...
                        
   this supervisor role... normal people have
this idea that they have advanced...
no... no you haven't...
i take the approach: you're below the pawns...
do you understand? i always ask them without asking...
you're below them...
a supervisor is a role below a stewards role...
you haven't been elevated to a status
of supervisor... you have become demoted to
a lesser role... because? how doesn't it work:
via ratios 1:16... contra 16:1?

             yet some people "feel promoted":
you're not promoted as a supervisor...
you're demoted...
                 me? i kept my stewards happy...
you want water? sure thing... i'll bring you a bottle
of water... you want coffee?
milk no sugar? sure..
   by the way... when the main act begins...
i talked to the kiosk guy...
   he told me that they throw all the burgers away...
can my stewards have these burgers?
no problem...
              happy: *******: campers... Yogi bear to tow...

i don't even have the ******* paperwork...
but i get ****** these roles...
even one coworker started looking at me ugly:
but i've been doing this for X number
of years... recently a mate of mine was
fired from the company...
i said: ****-all...
       but i sort of figured out...

oh right.. Mark vs. Mark...
      the part where he insulted him... insinuating he
was a homeless person?
    that part?! i had nothing to do with it...
in my head i was thinking...
either of these Marks doesn't have
a leg to stand on... they're both tooth-fairies
since they have such bad dental hygiene...
but one thinks he's above the other
yet the two are in a crab-bucket... but only
one knows it...

that's how you supervise...
**** me... 6 months in... 6 months more...
i need to get out...
no NVQ 3 stewarding *******...
just the level 2... but i'm already filling in...
better practice at public speaking...
i'll make a great teacher...
i'm eyeing up jealousy building up...
what's next? i sieve through more *******
i become a manager?

   then again: i don't want to teach chemistry:
i want to teach English...
i fell in love with the Dead Poets' Society and i can't
let go...

all these supposed problem cases...
woman supervisor... two female stewards...
what a transformation...
all it took was giving one some chips
to keep up sugar levels...
while with the other... just walking up to her:
asking her: are you happy?
everything good?
you want to take a break?
   take a break...

women invented ******... naturally women
are "****"... who is responsible for
who is allowed / not allowed to reproduce?!
men?!
ha ha...                   ah ha ha...

it's ****** into us... we had to find: THINKING...
ENTERTAINING... PHILOSOPHICAL...
mathematical...
if we all managed to **** to later become
fathers... seriously, you think?!
maybe that's why the rest of "us" start to love
drinking and also start to love scribbling
Ovid nuances...

sober women writing poetry:
             they're ******* force-fed adorations that
are not even remotely justified...
just... expected... because they are sourced
from ****...
    i like to source elsewhere...
             and not poetry: onomatopoeias...
pleasuring a woman like it might
be a door opening... creaking...
              a broken consonant on a hinge of a vowel...

i love working...
   i love the tired feet.. i love catching the last bus home
at after 1am...
    i love it... give me an axe and a square mile of forest:
you want a clearing?! give me a week...
maybe that's why i don't have time
for girlfriends... maybe that's why i can only
entertain prostitutes...

sure... last time it happened i was entertaining
two at the same time...
i couldn't replicate any of the *****-flics...
i couldn't be both **** and mouth...
i needed one to **** me off
into the other one's ****...
lazy? no... but i was working with Bourbon
and tobacco was the stiffening chemical...
so... no... no movie...

tomorrow comes and i know that i need to change
the rub-rub rubber of my breaks...
and how i need to change the tape on my handlebars...
and how tomorrow London will
be it's most beautiful...
and how you can add avocado into a sandwich...
as long as it's not merely avocado on toast...
but...
mingling with a chilli... a pepper...
green olives stuffed with almonds...
or pickled cucumbers...
   lodged either side of some cheese and meat...
lodged between two: cool... brown-based
buns of oat and pseudo-rye and probably wheat...

and how just finding about
KLAUS SCHULZE's - DEUS ARRAKIS (2022)
feels sort of like...
first watching Stanley Kubrick's
a SPACE ODYSSEY...
             because there are these immediate parallels
in the realm of postmortem...
               and because the night is a heaven
to behold... with all the critters and the foxes...
with all that demands a sleep within the confines
of a day...

the last message i sent Alice:
KLAUS SCHULZE - DEUS ARRAKIS (2022)...i'm currently listening to it... you have to break your patience... up to and including the 17th minute... after the 17th minute it's all downhill... sort of Brian Eno style with the Dune Soundtrack... Alice... dearest... i work my ******* off with what i write... you think you can entertain an audience with a flimsy "spare" of "thought"? i've been working on this ******* since 2005... now count the years... Alice... you approach the world as you have... i'll be the nice one... the rest of the world with ******* regurgitate you... i have seen how hierarchies work... they're not pleasant events when you need to bite your teeth and forget to have ownership of a tongue... please don't become more hurt because of the beauty that you are: serving the naivity of: what's best underserving in children: having to be falsely translated into adults...  as might be the conversation between Seth and Thoth... dearest creature... un-labour yourself with your imaginary dictates... you will never match to what i am surrendering to!
Ryan O'Leary Aug 2018
.           W A R N I N G.
                WARNING.
                  warning.

   Santa Klaus is a *******,
who goes into children’s rooms
after dark, while Rudolf, a ****
  sympathiser, metaphorically
     promotes, Khmer Rouge,
      plus The Red Brigade,
as he waits in the snow with
a Rufous nose collecting ***’s,
from insomniacs, the homeless,

                      and

           Domatophobiacs!

— The End —