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Classy J Sep 2016
Friendships are easy to lose when you play competitive videogames, rage quits and pride on the line, and yeah that's when things get insane. Smash bros, tekken, street fighter, king of fighters and mortal kombat, the greatest fighting games to ever come out of game designers hats. Its magic man, its addictive like gambling, who is the best gamer and who is a noob that everyone be trampling. Gg bro, even though we don't mean it though, your not as good as us, compared to us you are nothing but a ***. Powning and owning all you suckers, PC or console gaming, either way you are bound to find some trolling little *******. Gamer life, and one aspect of the nerd life, but there is more to our expansive life. There are the: know it all’s who can reference anything and corrects everything everyone says, and if you can't keep up, you can have a nice day. Star trek and star wars, collecting action figures that are definitely not dolls, roll them dice boy to see if our clan survives going down the falls. Dungeons and dragons, role-playing in a fantastic fantasyland, joining clubs like board games, videogames, writing, reading or band. Make fun of us now, but in the future we could be your bosses, so think about the next time you say that were wasting time trying to beat a dark souls boss. Cosplaying and reading comic books, this is the nerd life man, relaxing in our snuggies and croc's. Don't judge us without getting to know us, who knows you might want to get on the nerd bus. On a mission like Frodo or harry, going faster than the speed force just call us Barry. Feeling lucky punk, riding over you like a monster truck. Nintendo, Sony, Microsoft, steam, Sega, and PC, may just be me but I love it all, I'm not picky I appreciate things as they are like Marvel and DC.  Go go gadget, hate getting stuck traffic, I'm not the killer, I'm as innocent as Rodger rabbit. Please Ed, edd, and eddy, don't need to cause a scene because that would be pretty petty. What's the sitch wade, better beat those bad guys that choose to miss behave even if it effects my school grade. Kids that watch Cartoon Network nowadays will never how awesome it used to be, shows like samurai jack, power puff girls, Johnny bravo or Dexter’s laboratory. Duck hunting, ****** tunes and chill binge on anime and the only slam-dunk we do is Denny's pancakes sorry Shaquille O’Neal. Pocket protecting fiends; not to good at puberty, man we spending it all watching reality kings. New beginnings, love seeing what’s new at e3 each year, except for waiting for that game to arrive, counting the days till it finally appears. This the Nerd life, I may have never got the attention of girls when I was young but who knows I may just find myself a nerd wife. I can't wait to show my kids all that I know, the circle of life man, now I have a new perspective on watching this kid of mine grow. Future hopes, future class blasting off into possibilities, nerd life man better build up my durability.
Mustafa Mars Apr 2013
I live in the birth of Nintendo vs Sony vs Sega
Trying to beat that high score in the Street Fighter and Mortal Kombat
Combat with a K
That innovative ****
I survived the destruction of Sega Dreamcast
As they became third party
And Microsoft took their place with Xbox and Ninja Gaiden
Alive from that old arcade
I live in the awing of the interactive Wii
And internet friendly Playstation 3
I also live in the original Mario Bros and Pac Man and...
Terminator vs. Robo-Cop
Yea
I bet you don't remember that one
Or Galaga or Excitebike
Or even that good old
Asteroid, space dodging, alien blasting
Spacce Invaders!
Yea, I'm from Nintendoland
No... Segaworld
Nah... Sony City
Nu uhn... Microsoft...
Can't even think of a place for that
I am from that video gamer nation
That fight, hack, slash, race, create, explore, role-play
Even play those insane sports
See I'm from that...
See, I am from that...
I am from that
Video gamer heaven descended
That has that powerful curiosity and love for that
Space Invaders!
No
That love for all video games
And that memory of the ****** game graveyard
Where E.T. now resides...
See, I'm part of the new gen
Trying to play Street Fighter 4, Final Fantasy XIII, Star Ocean
Saying "I go harder than you young bloods cause I played
Space Invaders!"
So, what era am I from?
I'm from the era of all gamers
Playing Space Invaders
Space Invaders!
I'm from the
"Game of the Year goes to..."
Mario, Tekken, Metal Slug
Namco, Sega, Bandai, Konami
All those companies that started as something else
But realized their calling was for our nation
Cause you see
I'm from that
Old school Nintendo
New School Wii
Old school Playstation
New school PS3
Old school Sega
New school Microsoft 360
I'm from a legacy that always succeeds in giving us dreams
That always seem to revert back to that
Old school
Asteroid, space dodging, alien blasting
Space Invaders!!!!!
For those who enjoy playing some video games.
CryBaby Di Jul 2018
"You were a precisely,
a poured tall glass of disaster.
Face covered with spots,
also known as freckles,
that are always concealed by loads of caked on consealer.
*** of a goddess,
the ultimate reason of my demise.

5 foot 4,
a devil in disguise..
To my surprise,
was the truth in reality
of falling for an evil *****.

When you're at your best down on your knees you're probably actually about
3 foot 3.
Your mouth in action,
in more ways than one,
was your best weapon..
So unbelievably deadly.

I was just another casualty,
Your capabilities of such unspeakable
evil savagery.
Articulated strategy,
of going in for the **** of my heart.
Looking me dead in my eyes,
as you smile in my face.
A ****** made artistry.

Proceed on with your kombat for the mortal finale.
Go ahead and finish me,
make it my fatality..
But don't forget to burn away
what's left of me."
.
Rob Sandman May 2016
Playin' games.
=============
Jay Text Sandman aka Skitz Text

Set the timer click click now the clock is tick tockin'.
I came to play the game. Like a KNIK KNAK knockin'.
Your rhyme flow is slow you know like PLAYDOUGH.
I gobble up fine rhymes like a HUNGRY HIPPO.
Like SUBBUTEO I kick it.
Shruggin' off your challenge like BUCKAROO kickin'..
..up ****. I sunk your BATTLESHIP.
You played out your game of CHARADES. That's it.
I dig deep in me rhyme dictionary.
You scrawl on the the wall like palsy PICTIONARY.
Not strugglin'. I'm jugglin' the rhymes in me head.
Slam dunk. KERPLUNK. Nuff said.
No, never. No way. Who am I kiddin'?
You know I got the rhymes. And I got the rhythm.
I confess. Like a game of CHESS.
Checkmate. No debate. Not a pretty pawn missin'. *  

It’s the end of the games like RIP,
I Multikill MC’s like COD,
Keep your mind on your MINECRAFT can’t catch me,
Cause Skitz is EC's Artillery,
droppin bombs watch the FALLOUT or you’re Dogmeat
FAR CRY from the old days of CRT
So your attempt is DOOMed best clear the room,
SWAT’s get Swatted Mic shotgun BOOM!,
Blast backdraft will destroy your CIV,
No cheat codes PAC em up MAN time to give,
RESPEC- to the PORTAL gun hangin’ on me hip,
You’ve got HALF a LIFE left faster than NO CLIP
But I said no cheatin’ Hackers get Hacked up,
No Multiplayer,cause you’ve no backup,
I’m glorying in the games we play,
Checkmate VS XBOX  pass to Jay.


Chorus
Not mentionin' names. We're playin' games.
Energetic and poetic and it's Jay to blame.
Set the mic aflame. We burn it up now.
Set the timer click, click.  

When I flex it's hectic. Like SCALEXTRIC.
Switch lanes to PERFECTION.
I've a MONOPOLY in this game.
Don't pass go. Go straight to jail.
You fall like DOMINOES. I leap like a salmon.
Tisk tisk. Big RISK. Now I have BACKGAMMON.
Stamina. A steady hand OPERATION.
Ace up me sleeve and I'm just playin' PATIENCE.
Got me POKERface on.
Read 'em and weep as the game plays on.
I got a dead mans hand but I animate the mic.
BULLDOGS charge. You know I'll reach the other side.
Back to me den.
Repeat after me like SIMON SAYS.
RED ROVER, RED ROVER. I call Jay over.
You think it's over ?
No my friend. *  

Not mentionin' names. We're playin' games.
Energetic and poetic Schizophrenic to blame.
Set the mic aflame. We burn it up now.
Set the timer click, click.  

This Steam Machine is heatin' up a treat
So don’t be TEKKEN the ****,just feel the beat,
This KOMBAT’s MORTAL to enemies,
But it’s a full HEALTH PACK to Fans of E.C.,
So OverClock your CPU,
get your Soundcard Jumpin like chimps in SIM ZOO,
drop DICE on ICE from here to Timbuktoo,
STREET FIGHTER’s and Writers BIOSHOCKin' you


Not mentionin' names. We're playin' games.
Energetic and poetic Schizophrenic to blame.
Set the mic aflame. We burn it up now.
Set the timer click, click.  

I SPY with my little eye.
Somethin' beginnin' with J. I let fly.
As your JENGA tower wobbles.
I smile. You drop tiles. Dropped your poxy box of SCRABBLE.
Look out. That could spell disaster.
Triple word score as the rhymes rip past ya. Blast ya.
Quick out the trap like The Flash playin' SNAP.
Check the lyrical master. *
As the Dungeon Dragon spreads his wings-lets fly
playin' the game the pied piper pies,
catch you rats in me MOUSETRAP its a snap,
"cause I wrote the rhymes that broke the bulls back"
I'm the KING OF THE HILL I got ya QUICKSCOPIN'
in THE SHADOWS OF MORDOR prayin' and hopin'
for a hero like MARIO to bust you loose,
Jay's SNAKE'n' up the LADDER time to twist the noose


Not mentionin' names. We're playin' games.
Energetic and poetic E.C. to blame.
Set the mic aflame. We burn it up now.
Set the timer click, click.  

What ya think ?              
Me rhymes kink, bend and fold like TWISTER.
A wicked rhythm like DOUBLE DUTCH. Skip, skip.
Like EVEL KNIEVEL. Flywheel spinnin'.
Rev it up. Dump the clutch.        
See me grinnin'. Knockin' down the pin and..
SPIROGRAPH lines in me rhyme. I'm spinnin..
..out of control. You can't cope with me GYROSCOPE.
I bring you back to the beginnin'.*

Not mentionin' names. We're playin' games.
Energetic and poetic E.C. to blame.
Set the mic aflame. We burn it up now.
Set the timer click, click.
Jay came up with this idea and tried to mention as many games we played as kids as he could fit in,when  he invited me onto the track I went more down the PC/Console game route,
let us know how many we missed!.
ZL Jan 2022
bulletproof vest.

Yet, I still bled.

Crossed my heart,

and held my head.



.
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2018
.                                                 what?
between MC hammer...
and men at work...
there's a choice?
come on...
you could have given
me an easier question,
like... Debussy
contra Satie...
or, like...
  egg yolk or egg white?!
point being...
i'd love to see
christopher lambert
play the role of
raiden in that... mortal kombat
game made into a motion
picture...
you know...
if i owned a PS2...
i'd still be a gamer...
but i never owned a PS2....
or the metal gear solid 2
gaming experience...
not the PS1 experience
fighting ****** mantis...
you know that hack / cheat...
when you switch controller
slots...
when ****** mantis is
giving his grandiose speech..
and you switch the controller
ports, so that in in the game
you're not predictable...
   final fantasy 7?!
completed it with a walk-through...
sorry... homework...
that being said:
all of Friday night and all of
Saturday morning...
and some Tenchu....
wacky-Jacky...
      cow later chow,
enter mein...
           choppers chop chop...
these days?
i game...
           when i take a ****...
i figured... if there are people who
take a book to the crapper...
i'll take a game...
    war robots....
      you know what's fascinating?
the interactive applicability of
a game...
                     team-work...
mesmerizing...
                the whole gaming
structure drifted from a narrative,
to a congregational dynamism...
solipsism unraveled...
i dig the whole team work,
while taking a ****...
love it... 5 stars review...
     but am i a gamer...
do i not think that
a.i. is a revamp of Pinocchio?
no...
     but metal gear solid?
a ******* solid game
on PS1...
       you would be talking to a gamer
if i was allowed to buy
a PS2 console...
         oh right...
  i read books and listened to music,
and ended up writing anti-routine /
anti-technicality poetry /
anti-rhyme poetics....
                                      my bad;
"we're" calling a revision
of chess in play;
yeah... sorry...
   i was never into paragraphs,
with dialogue interludes...
for me...
  poems were always above
a structural stature of paragraphs;
something to do with
haiku or... whatever came out of
Godzilla's mouth.
mother died today or maybe yesterday i can’t be sure  the telegram from the home says your mother passed away funeral tomorrow deep sympathy which leaves the matter doubtful it could have been yesterday - “the Stranger” Albert Camus

a misguided partiality exists inside me i feel safer around women maybe i’m fooling myself and women are equally capable of the brutal cruelties i associate with men i don’t know i guess i believe women hold themselves to a higher behavioral standard gentler more nurturing there’s another aspect to my belief women floor me i am totally vulnerable to a pretty woman but it must be stated my tastes run quite peculiar i prefer alternative looks and am put off by classic American glamour i guess the real deal is i’m a guy most comfortable among men watching World Series Sunday Monday Night Football despite the fact that if i were with a woman would be my greatest craving who cares what i think i apologize for opening my mouth

we are stranded by the side of road from out of nowhere a beat up gray truck pulls along side in a cloud of dust we cannot see driver from passenger side stubbly shaven mustached man wearing red bandana under tattered western hat in accented hoarse voice hollers out how much for the girl with terrified expression in her face her hand reaches for my arm i peer coldly into man’s eyes then glance away answering

a. what exactly do you have in mind

b. how much cash do you got on you

c. she’s not for sale

d. we need a ride

e. we’re lost do you have a cell phone

f. please leave us alone

g. all of the above

an extraordinarily attractive member of opposite *** runs into you on street in familiar tone of voice greets you speaking your name it’s been ages you look terrific i was just thinking about you the other day it’s such a wonderful surprise to see you do you have time to stop chat over coffee or drink i live quite near here please come over to my place let’s catch up i’d really love that this person then looks at you in a flirtatious seductive way yet you cannot place or remember where you know them or if you’ve ever known them you answer

a. yes

b. this is embarrassing i’ve forgotten your name

c. how do you know my name where do we know each other from

d. is it possible you’re confusing me with someone else

e. i have no idea who you are or what you want from me

f. all of the above

these are dark times every one acknowledges post-modernism post-911 is bleak jobless homeless callous frightful kali yuga no one nothing nowhere  is safe wars gruesome atrocities piracy blood diamonds **** mutilation theft deceit betrayal school yard bullying assassinations cyber espionage anti-depression drugs vicious video games why aren’t people making positive video games referencing cooperation affection happiness instead of Grand Theft Auto Vice City Call of Duty World at War Mortal Kombat what kind of world are we creating for future generations why does violence sell more than *** why is *** so unkind what kind of people are we better off dead they shoot horses don’t they what happened what’s happening why are we making this hell why aren’t we making better wiser more loving choices i don’t understand

in the late 1960’s early 70’s parents didn’t have money to buy their kids high school graduation gifts or perhaps the notion was not invented yet nobody had cars maybe a few guys i knew owned cars they bought with their own hard earned money everybody i knew who lived off campus and too far to bicycle hitch-hiked to school then hitch-hiked home every day for 4 or more years that’s how we all did it in Hartford i remember sitting in different adult’s cars indebted grateful looking thinking wondering will i grow up to be like him or her projecting connections

when i grew up it was a different time turn on tune in drop out in a way hippies were reactionary to all the modern progress atomic age we winged it by inexact methods that time is gone it is crucial at present to be coherent sober accurate mindful wakeful vigilant wary prepared 24/7 this history being written how will it be told i’ve been around long enough to know how these deceptions work we are all using feeding ripping off each other we give in to whoever wants us become whoever seeks to destroy us we disgust ourselves i’m astonished dumbfounded talk with me who are we please explain i beg you

who if i cried who would hear me among the angels even if one of them pressed me against heart i would be consumed in overwhelming existence for beauty is nothing but beginning of terror we are still just able to bear we are so awed because it serenely disdains to annihilate us every angel is terrifying – “2nd Elegy” Rainer Maria Rilke
Jodie LindaMae Nov 2015
I brought you my still beating heart
In a bismol pink bedpan,
Your hands lifting from the gurney
Awaiting salvation through my touch.
In my visions I am seventeen.
I am seeing you for the first time at my work
And you make me laugh.
You reiterate the scarring in your soul and down your back
And I ask, rudely, if I may see some time.
You say sure,
But your face wishes that I had never asked.
In my wonders
I am eighteen and telling a group of people my age at a party
Why I am sober,
Because my body is weak
And I am not tempted.
Thoughts of you and my future swirl in my mind
But they do not connect.
I will try in vain for another year
Before I realize that maybe I need to sober up from you.
In my recent memory,
I'm sitting on the side of your bed
Hoping that you do not die.
But I'm half naked,
Underwear and undershirt the only things I have on
And your skin is too hot
And your voice sounds coked over
And your breathing is not a slow hum
But a ravenous wheeze
And I'm scared
And my breathing becomes torn.
I'm nineteen again
But now I am saying goodbye
Though you are still living
And a week earlier I had pledged myself to you forever.
You cry to me that you were saving for a ring
And I had hoped to hear that
But now that you've said it,
I can feel my stomach toss
Into the bedpan
Which houses my heart
In your hands,
I've taken my place among the dreadfully unbalanced
And the perpetually sad.
I have come to the conclusion that I have made a mistake
That is too late in the making to be remedied.
BLitZeD Feb 2016
BLitZ3D

Your hating? im Saitin, ill make sure you burn for this, catch a ***** baking/
Your faking? im Raiden, ill **** you in your urn for kicks, fatality left the ***** aching/
Your a *****, just saying,/
If you where Goro id rip your ******* arms off and watch you try and kick /
Im Onaga in this *******, and your mothers just my ******* trick/
Barraka Obama, with my eyes closed so i Kenshi this kid/
Slither like a Reptile through a Cage of his ribs/

0M3gA Agg3L0S

So... what the **** was that?/
And who the **** is BLitZ3D, always represented by a cat/
King of the jungle? well as a matter of fact.../
Im king of the pumpkins, your just an *** named Jack/
This is your realm im in?/
Look around I just told you my last names Skelington/
This hell you bring, well its my door to the bell you ring/

AZRA3L**

Take you ******* heads i shall/
Knife or a gun, slice, click, pow. pal/
Blade plows threw your neck, but the scene gets foul, how?/
Steel grinds your throat as you gasp to breath now/
In this passage you'l start  to feel relieved, wow,/
  Drowned on a boat, just let go, its time to believe, throw um a towel
Countdown to Armageddon precariously hinges
   potential apocalypse outcome, mere smattering days away
if the brazen, fierce-some dragon doth don
   trumps presidential throne -
   ships with whistling  Dixie missiles at bay
will be synchronized with aerial bombardiers
-    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -   -    -
   to parlay a view to unleash nuclear weapons on cue
destroying a vast swath of flora and fauna,
   and most life forms (inn oh cent), but pay hefty due
to assuage the aggressively cruel, enjoyably
-    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -   -    -
   growling at his goalie indubitably
   kick *** mindset worse than dengue fever will ensue
a combustible domino effect fueling global horror -
   analogous to kindling tinder logs smoke
   the color - jetblue streaming up fireplace flue
-    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -   -    -
witnessing sovereign magnum opus trans
   forming much of animal and plant life into flakes of goo
far scarier than any macabre production
   dreamt up by human frightful scenario and no hero
she ma to rescue self or other from deadly debacle,
-    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -   -    -
   nor any safe haven such as a cool igloo
forsooth complete annihilation will far surpass
   any prior world war, no one will be spared,
   neither gentile nor Jew
which total mortal kombat, and attendant laying waste
-    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -   -    -
   organisms livingsocial instantaneously cremated,
   where ashes spread dispersed faster than Kudzu
rendering world wide web fetid, offal, and putrid
   far more noxious than the common loo
yet even this general description falls short to where mew
-    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -   -    -
tinny sans hardy species (according to Google search);
   such as tardigrade, mummichog, and cockroach
decimating, heaving, leveling, poisoning
   every cubic inch of Earth evincing voluminous vaporization
   extant eradication emphatically nixed, punctuated, and radiated
-    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -   -    -
   pulverization eviscerating the bowels of mankind,
   where nary a survivor could weather and withstand
   hollowed out no mans land bereft of sustenance or water
   where seeds of white lily when coalescence
   of oblate spheroid birthed, nursed, and weaned new
-    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -   -    -
life especially proto **** sapiens
   and subsequent kin grunting with ah and oew
fast tracked primates, yet inherent within genetic coda
   (perhaps poison ingredient bubbled
  within primordial soup) - steeped quantum mechanical pew
-    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -   -    -
tar nation housing crucible-
   analogous to planetary size mortar and pestle) queue
sans predestination, where rue
brick, dogma, and fealty honoring justice slew
-    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -   -    -
by paws of one cancerous, fractious and idolatrous Lothario,
   who opened Pandora Box (rigged shut tight) thorough
lee rendered civilization a footnote
   of cosmological history and universal view
-    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -   -    -
BUT.... eligible voters can choose alternate
   (Democratic) candidate -
   the majority will exhale a collective gustatory whew
and allow, enable and provide continuance of the human zoo!
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2017
believe me, you grow out of it
(*******),
   you reach the natural conclusion
as women do,
    experiencing menopause,
your's the least actrattive cunterpart,
no choice...
          you just grow out of it...
you just get bored
                       you just grow out of it...
it literally become a case of
   huh?
     yep, it becomes a hmm equation...
and if you're not married,
  5p.m. feels like 9a.m.,
                         the **** is going on?
fyck, uleterior motive for spelling
   thick...
           so what the fyck's going on?
pop culture... fuckle me...
                   send some more sleeping
pills my way,
    so i can pretend to be in a
heavyweight boxing match
         fighting both klitschkos
   at the same time, in street fighter mode
of pretending to be blanka /
            zangief / vega?
    i'd **** over him
               any-day-of-the-week,
such **** ******* /
     dhalsim - mr. stretch-armstrong /
                           mr. fantastic...
tekken never conjures up
an equation
      that music does
   i.e. the beatles (street fighter)
vs. the rolling stones (mortal kombat)...
tekken never really made it
         for "equality" status:
                        equal status, i get it;
nonetheless, men tend to grow
out of the practice of *******,
  just like women
   are automated to experience
menopause...
                       you just get bored
of the hand as ****...
                       d'uh dummy dum dum
+ a mongolian harmonica
    (index moving up & down
with the lips perforking
          the motorboat effect,
encapsulated within the brrrrrrrrr;
sure, the missing trill of the r in english...
    and there are no diacritic indicators
that the letter ought to be the sole-source
of vibration...
           hence no roll with the umlaut ä -
   sounds like chinese wow wow wow yo
  boat...
             yoyo that ****?
      count that as two:
          hämmer, i.e. haamer...
          i.e. hāmmer...
              or ha'mmer... so what's with
the trigonometry of the m?
  how many more times do you have
to wave a goodbye?      
                  but the scandi- version?
middle-class english,
   i love their slang,
        they slang a longer word into
a shorter word,
   but never bother to adffix a hyphen
for invigorative measures...
    it always seems to be: oxford approved;
if americans are yanks...
                   the british? wanks;
jiggy-jiggy-mah-jig.
         totality bound by sources found
    in either peckham or hackney;
oh right, the roll...
  an aangstroom, i.e.  ångström...
                    linguistic ballistics...
        **** gets funnier when writing fiction,
the irish and the slav prefer the hyphen
of differentiation in a convo, i.e.
  - and so
- so what?
the post-germanic tribes of anglo saxons and
americans?
    they prefer the inverted commas
and the he said...
                          e.g. "i was saying," he said.
yes, i know that's a fictional character
"speaking",
     but you could at least count,
   toward expressing the correct arithmetic,
i.e. 'i was saying,' he said;
                            yes,
i know no one was saying anything,
             you were thinking someone
was saying something you "said"...
          so why was it never the irony of "citing"
with only two index fingers,
   as opposed to
         two index and two middle fingers?
i swear to god, that's not how
you quote...
                    if you're ever going to quote;
it can only mean
   a beginning of ambiguity,
   by invoking "     ", you're making war
on the thesaurus.
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 Mar 2016
eating breakfast in a long time,
half a teaspoon of sugar,
coffee black, three marzipan
nuggets coated in chocolate,
two cigarettes...

and wondering where did the time
go since silverchair
released their debut frogstomp (1995),
or what happened to the offspring
after americana (the song *pay the
man
still wasn't a commercial song),
or the sudden thrill of red hot chilli
pepper's reunion with john and
californication, deftone's white pony,
or when buying the mortal kombat
soundtrack, and someone nice enough
at our price putting a different c.d.,
not the score, but the soundtrack
with actual songs: type o negative
(subsequently ****** kisses),
monster magnet, k.m.f.d.m., and beside,
days with cassettes (m.o.d.'s mr. oofus
ha ha) - and gigs, tool in glasgow
with that awesome german girl
who i gave water to in exchange for a kiss,
wolfmother in edinburgh, a few gigs
in london (papa roach, disturbed,
type o negative, iron maiden, the offspring,
american head charge, rammstein,
slipknot, korn, red hot chilli peppers -
when that arena at canary wharf was still open)...
but then there was verdi's  la traviata in st. petersburg,
and aerosmith in hyde park, and boy
did depeche mode rock hyde park too...
i mean, most these influences came from
my uncle, but i can't give him credit
for king crimson, jethro tull and other
prog bands (early genesis, for example)...
or the jazz...
but it's just annoying to not have seen
the holy wood tour by m.m.,
or not seeing slayer when jeff hanneman
was still alive - after all i pledged the
tribulation of growing long hair in school
to him, one day, looking at the band's poster,
i was 15 then and became known as chewbacca
for a while.
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2016
oh god, how could i forget, the year was sometime in
the 1990s, en vogue released their debut single:
don't let go...
fell in love with it...
                as truant i say true:
before the **** impregnated
the white boy economy,
                 i made it to university on
two thousand and a spare allowance,
studying chemistry you get the hours,
**** knows the humanities...
any self-respecting humanities
student learns humanism the hard way:
psychiatry - not writing novels:
but doing social service - **** pay,
the man is happy,
happy girls of 12 month cycles
disillusioned suddenly by Papa Farmer
Heidegger - not really...
i could sneeze Hegel through my ***
and never get a **** from any
French philosopher's nostril:
born to ****, born to ostrich it...
and that's about as much as i'm avowed to hit...
it was the 1990s, the Poles were part
of the cultural shift including the world war
ii veterans, safety in west London,
then the kebabs came by,
and the kebabs fried the reputation,
they said: SO LI DA RI TY!
                  i remember being 9 at the time,
or whatever age suits the chronology,
en vogue was better than the prodigy,
the jilted revulsion to stagecraft,
Michael Jordan did more than Broccoli Adam
alias O,
                  silver back and the safety net of
philandering Clinton: let the white
boy eat ****... you let the white
boys do the annals and you the *******
to do the opposite of the Christian bypass:
let's the ***** experience it and rhetoric anti-gay
statements...
                       a  bit harsh, a bit too harsh mate...
you use the girl to manifesto anti-gay laws...
i wasn't born with **** stimulation,
but would i agree or disagree with it?
i wouldn't ask a girl to do **** with me...
me? too much pleasure from taking a ****,
who do you hang around with?
                           the Schnitzel Patriots?
but if there be  god i swear:
i decided to buy en vogue's single rather than
the album: music for the jilted generation...
then came about breathe when i
was discovering type o negative
             with the mortal kombat..
then i let gaming sorta sizzle, until i met a gamer
girl... no phobia... the status encouragement
said: read two books, play 33 video games...
1990's England... was it so different as it is today
or was it because i was a a kid born in the 1980's
seeing my first double deck bus aged 8 in 1994?
we never got the mafia Caribbean treatment
worthy of a carnival, i was never part of the Empire,
only a cause for war...
                 the truants moved to Scotland,
we got east London, or something resembling the east...
i loved the 1990s... the music esp.,
                                    well, that was then...
it ain't that anymore... back in the 1990s i'd
rather have listened to en vogue rather than
the spice girls' paedophilia chant
Savile's case bankrupted the b.b.c.,
   they're really trying, showing shows
from 2015 and earlier in 2014,
                                          they're broke!
broke little *******! and the chant is:
i thought she was administering consent with
that ***-selfie while i ****** off..
                i thought the age of consent was there
at the time, the age where you get to abuse
your own body...
      apparently that's slave talk: your body
isn't yours.
                     Huxley was a prophet in his own right,
but never mind the intricacies -
                 there weren't any...
she posts consent he posts shadow...
                    in the extremity of all possible laws:
we defend the defendants rights to an exclusion of conscience,
because, god-forgiving we only succumbed to the idea
of not thinking: i.e. we preferred the idea of god
managing us rather than the idea of thought...
    but it was nice in the 1990s, the brave few that made it...
then the serfs came when the Union expanded....
                         it really doesn't matter now...
apathy Regina, pathology Rex;
                                better fix the toilet
before the **** comes down alright...
                              as one half human potential said:
half of me would have made a quarter of the man
and woman involved in obstructing me teaching
in rhapsodies...
                                 oh well...
born a Glaswegian pauper, always a Glaswegian
pauper...
                       and sooner my fate among the karma
fate of words lost in Herr Censor,
              than me knocking on tombstones and saying:
your life?
                  i'm not that much interested, to be honest,
i care to remember what single c.d. i bought
in the 1990's rather than what could have ignited in
me a neo-socialist sense of community
coming from a communist society, undermined
by a society trying so hard to make the perfect advert;
what a load of *******!
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2017
the point is: i don't want to write in the style of j. joyce's finnegans wake; but i am, and i feel terrible for doing it... so... m'eh?

you listen to these talks, like you might watch
a football match...
   the art of rhetoric - ars rhetoric(æ):
that isolation of the grapheme stresses the point
that homosexuals are better at talking
than men who consecrate themselves
on the bias that will probably lead to a widow.
they're better at it, and there's no argument
for it: it's a bit like passing the olympic torch
from ****-to-****-to-mouth-to-tongue-to-head-to-ego;
i'll come to the modern notation of that unit
in a minute...
  but oh so rare, walking from the supermarket
and finding a book propped on a... thing?
it's situated in essex, england, and in these parts
you can have this "garden" in-front of
your house, and there's this "hadrian's" wall
isolating this patch of green:
   that's why i said thing: because it's not a fence
in the traditional sense...
    so you're walking back from the supermarket
with a bottle of becks beer and a litre of *****
and mixer in your rucksack (5pence duty stamp
on using plastic bags, remember that)
  and you see a book propped on "hadrian's" wall
(because it is just that: a joke),
well not in this instance, this is a case of a semi-detached
outer-suburban household... and there's
  this book propped on a "fence"... and it's dark...
am i going to nick it / "steal" it?
last time i checked, i didn't believe in *hegel
,
last time i checked: if i'm in a public place, i.e. a road,
i'm going to use the advantage of someone's mistake
(or intention?) and take possession of the thing;
a bit like... you find a 20quid banknote in a puddle...
are you going to wave it about and shout:
who does it belong to?     would you?
         well... hegel can go **** himself and his
philosophy of right... i can't believe that mere lecture
notes inspired communism, i simply can't believe it,
i mean: it's astouding that it ever occured,
but still... it's so rare to find books on the streets...
i've heard plenty about disowned dogs and that dog
shelter in Battersea... i ought to know, i was bound
to paving slabs on one of their roof extensions...
my grandfather told me this story about how he was
walking through a forest with my uncle (his son)
and found a hanged dog... someone thought it real
funny to tie the noose so the dog was tiptoeing
toward death while suffocating on the noose...
i've had worse trauma... like when walking my doberman
and he bit into **** and what was revealed was
a nest of parasites, at best described: wriggling...
clearly you can build-up a natural aversion to this world,
which is by no surprise the original source of
the concept of god... you start from there, and work
your way down.
    now i'm seriously digressing, ars rhetoric(æ)...
like ha ha crow's ca ca? or is that ka ka ka?
ku klux clan... mortal kombat... whatever.
                just about as much sense when listening
to classic.fm and hearing an "oohbow" concerto
in some minor or major key (i don't remember which
one it was)... but like a blind-man fiddling
with an elephant (the modern day version of
the male grææ... as seen in homer, as seen in macbeth...
but those were 3... i'm talking 5)...
  i also thought about fiddling with the "orthography"
(that term usually denotes the aesthetic practice
of adding diacritical marks, which english doesn't:
otherwise known as the **** of ιota)...
   i could see a clarinet perfectly, clear distinctions (i mean);
but an oh-bow?                    oboe?
    how can these two variations not yield the same
pronunciation if not via the tetragrammaton?
            clarinet in jazz     horns in ska-punk,
ladies to the left, gents to the right...
                     clearly my idea of **** schizoi creates
more competent understandings of a human,
who is insapiens...
                   ****, talk about libido, but to this extent?
hmm... so the ιota was ***** by a diacritical mark
that's practically disjoined from an umlaut...
   see the arithmetic ι i ï? otherwise known as the ee
in: i need to take a ****... or the boo-boo word of ***.
   the same thought approached me when
i contemplated the acute version of N (en) - ń,
variations include: close approximates of knee,
then vary through to: me me me expressed in a nagging
way...
                   oh right... words that have this acute:
     day... dzień...
then they'll call it cultural appropriation, and i'll
call it: cultural integration.
                  but ń did something, it revealed the **** of
ιota...  it's this enforced diacritical mark on the greek
letter (and j) that doesn't exist on other letters
as it sometimes should...
       but it all depends on the following rule

                            ae  i  ou
                     ­             x

x is treated as a consonant for it's own sake, i could have
inserted some other consonant, but the stress
is how and when you apply diacritical marks,
given the stated example of the diacritical mark hovering
over n.
               and really? the **** of ιota is involved, which
probably invoked the complexity of the anglo sprechen
to such an extent that it spread for far and wide...
    why would i even put a diacritical dot over s?
what would that represent, for ****'s sake?
                                                           ­               i!
in polish you'd say that as         e! oddly or not so
oddly enough.
           but there is a collision happening
   given the predestination concept of i (what culture
would appropriate that, if not the most hostile /
successive one?) -
                 the acute diacritical mark on the n
disappears depending where the (enforced half umlaut of)
i is placed...
     for example in the word        no....     nie...
that dot above the iota just ate the acute over the n...
    then back to the word for day           dzień....
it's at the back, so the aesthetic twists into an σς scenario...
(sigma sigma)...
                  nudzi (he bores people)...
        nagi (he's naked)...
                            i could really do with a macron on that a,
who knows, maybe language encoding really is
worth symphony complexity: or is that why i'm
jealous of music composers?
               i'm just trying to look for a word
that encompasses my concept of ń....
     a real kinder sprechen example as simple as 1 + 1 = 2,
evidently i will not find it and only come up with
something as "simple" as 1 + 1 = 3.
on one side the sensual beast,
on the other a reasoning ***** -
as you age the less you sense, but at the same time
the more you reason; in my case it happened exponentially
thanks to Chernobyll (it did begin with one of
the scandinavian countries being able to record
radiation... in poland you had a park, in a small town...
and half the trees were in summer and half
were in autumn):
   because if you **** things up on an atomic scale
you're not going to exactly see a tornado, in a specified
location for adrenaline junkies to go and film it!
then there was this idea that i had
               about certain layers of language,
   braille, sign-language, covert talk and open talk,
basically boiling down to honesty, and the latter to
dishonesty...
    so this book i found yesterday... about as rare as finding
a 20quid banknote...
             now i seriously believe this book is a pillar
to language... right up there with the dictionary and
the thesaurus...
            published by c collins (obviously)...
and its sole author: nigel rees (couldn't be bothered with
italics, so i used the colon)...
          ah **** it, it's only descriptions of the cover,
the book is paperback so it doesn't matter...
although what does is...
   the entry (to be) in the same boat (page 347)...
that's why i was sniffing the book up yesterday
(bibliophiles' prime fetish, after ******* the books)...
    the entry originated from cicero
in 53bc... in the original latin     in eadem es navi,
later used in 1941ad after pearl harbor
(funny u, look: harbour)    - of consequences
                                     roosevelt said, churchill quote(d).
oft times as a child crayola crayons
   occupied concentration
   to color, with a hue and a cry
would erupt if the merest and faintest mark
   trespassed violating
   some shade dee rule, i'd decry

cuz even as a boy,
   a peaceful nonconformist/
   nonestablishmentarian streak
   now finds this guy
proud to be among
   the minority removed
   from the madding crowd,
   though blurt out a friendly "hi"

when within of the vast lines of humanity
   entropy vies to get
   the upper hand until ban ky
moon: secretary - (at time of this writing)
   general of the United Nations
   doth raise an hand gesticulating with lie

sense to subdue
   the crowded housed planet fitness
   even if his magic doth manage to ply
a temporary truce among
   scrabbling mobs of hoodlums,
   some regurgitating spoon fed
   pablum patois bred from an era quois

wanton vengeful retaliation,
   whence faux recapitulation
   initially evidenced
   from hooligans who try
to wrest control

   with mortal kombat full commando
   from elected officials,
   who abhorring violence must vie
trump petting for state military
   don protective gear
   bound by parochial training
   to counteract mutiny why

hill chaos runs amuck law man
   dating rubric with force of arms
   and crack of firearms,
   which forced quiet riot doth aim

to don the mantle of government control,
   whereby foot soldiers
   i.e. boots on the ground -
   operate asia single blame

less force to be reckoned with,
   cuz the supreme arbiter of power -
   who thru a coup d'etat did claim
sear of power forces opposition

   to sing condescending swan song
   toward ruler de jure,
   which includes a price tag i.e.
   at least one vestal ****** dame
Exposure Therapy

     A figurative light shines on me (courtesy of Pink Floyd), no matter I live on the dark side of the moon like another brick in the wall, and rarely present thyself stark naked sans emotionally. The metier viz modus operandi of writing (poetry seems to edge ahead of other structures) allows, enables and provides with utmost exhiliration, infatuation, lumination, et cetera an opportunity to test (dis)comfort zones. Hence carefree foray induces loosing oppressive repressed unvented xanax albatross drugged gewgaws, jetisonned (via Jetson propelled Segway) means producint resplendent unfettered x2c.

      I became habituated, insulated, jackknifed with non-healthy, destructive behavior cultivated detrimental habits disallowing natural maturation of body, mind, and spirit, which this middle aged mwm now more fervently revisits, remonstrates, and recapitulates when attempting to explain to thyself or another, how bing figuratively tethered to the apron strings o' me late mum promulgated, narrated, and licensed to avast quantity of active listeners, the self made parent trap (albeit synonymous with an invisible umbilical cord that well nigh strangled satisfactory quality of life.

     Thus culled from me lately (countless decades when within fledgling offspring, the progeny evince metamorphosis that display heavenly lottery phenomenal tinder phase linkedin DNA when processes of puberty per purring prestidigitation when mine deus darling daughters developed into divine dames) instilled, jolted, kickstarted personal quest to broach me interpersonal/ social comfort zones.

     The presence of generalized anxiety (with attendant debilitating panic attacks) ******, foiled, highjacked journey to experience ordinary sensate human bonding never took place.

     I copiously deprived, emotionally fleeced, gamely hocked innumerable joyous kissably leavening male natural ordinary processes qua ramping sundry transitions ushering vital wings yodeling zen attainment. emotional, physical, social discoveries visa vis via blockaded, deprived, forfeited, hamstrung inoculated je nais sais quois electric kool aid acid test disallowing, barring,

depressing, forsaking growing **** Sapiens trajectory toward autonomy free self destructive hermetically sealed reign.

     Otherwise, thru avoidance behavior, clamped down eponymous flapping gums, this now middle aged baby boomer believes he cheated himself, injuriously jarred kidnapped legendary manifold noble savage traits ushering vital willpower yawping zealous adulthood.

Said physiological, integral, hormonal, germinal, fantastical, external, developmental, capitalone entourage fumbled mine kempf outlook predicated unanimously withheld Mortal Kombat from finagled grim-faced hoodlums, whence thine smarting, roiling, quivering psyche broke LivingSocial will power to remain alive, thus surrendering StarWars shield, essentially via nixed invisible IdentityGuard, undermined re: self defeatedly favorable growth, when thy prepubescent self firmly believed he hermetically sealed, guarded, buffered, himself against nasty, meanly lampooning, cruelly brutal bullies when in truth he merely annihilated, boobytrapped, bolloxed against learning to deal with dangerous enfilades fired, and essentially a uselessly futile coping mechanism.

     Quest diagnostic codified by yours truly incorporates initiating, kibitzing, and making odious quirkiness stamping utterly worthless yikyaks axed. Courageousness employed grappling ingeniously

kickstarting my nifty operation quintessentially rallying strength to utter verbal warbling, especially when espying a guy or gal donned with dreadlocks.

     Inexplicable to myself why a plethora of persons (constituting various generations) attire themselves with the lengthy process to braid, maintain, and wear follicles in such a fashion most attribute to Rastafarians.

     No matter what the reason or rhyme (whether with or without sense and sensibility, yet inculcated with pride without prejudice), a fascination with curiosity asper men, women, and/or children sporting a headful sprouting knotted ropy plaits sets the impetus sans this non establishmentarian chap to inquire what influenced him/her to impress the trademark dreadlocks. Each person usually offers little objection asper what influenced such a predilection.

     Upon conniving, daring, egging, et cetera this quintessentially respectable son, the unsuspecting gal or guy ruminating about some purchase, I nonchalantly assay, foray, sashay...and issue a positive comment about their snake like confection of locked tresses.

     Most interaction with persons previously unbeknownst to me launch into a harried styled and swiftly tailored explanation.

     Poetic and/or prosaic concoctions, confections, coiled connotations configuring confusing confabulations representative of mine unsettled psychological state, which (aking to purging) oft times erupts without any sense nor sensibility, neither pridefulness, though prejudice against victorious vanquished wicked yoked zealousness toward unhealthy behavious linkedin with a nada so good and plenti outlook.
STLR Oct 2016
What's up brother, how have you been feeling?

I know it's been a while since we shared our true feelings.

I know that problems can stack and smash into a glass ceiling

And when glass breaks it's never too appealing.

we have to pick up the pieces

**** feels like a fishing pole that keeps reeling

But on the real, if the damage was in a deck of cards would you keep dealing?

This is coming from a kid who barely speaks but keeps listening

******* doesn't shine when it walks it glistens

Then attracts people by the pieces it has missing

We fill in the gaps, by doing some of this, some of that.

Not because we want to, but because we want to adapt From the feelings that lack and haunt us from the past.

I'm truly sorry that your dad passed away, I'm sure things get harder every single day. But there's just one thing that I want to say, I know he wants to see you with a smile on your face, I know he loved you in every single way, I know this because people who love each other think the same.

And as long as you're here I will never stay away, always stay awake, our past will never fade away.

I remember when we use to play, games on the Nintendo, that controller was made of glue because we never let go. Bomber man, Mortal Kombat, Duck Hunter & all that! Always causing a commotion on the games we would focus...little kids watching toons watching moving a like hocus pocus.

Animorphs was the ****, so was tales of the crypt, I remember you did that move on my neck like the Xena chick. In 10 seconds I would be dead, then you turned It off like a switch.

Every move I would twitch, you were just well equipped with punches and super kicks, all your moves were simply ****, bomb-diggity-bomb I mean lethal. You were a ninja mastermind Who had killed million people.

Then you would sit back and act like you didn't do ****

But when mom and ***** came around that was it.

Super belts for the whoopin, rice & beans they were cookin, rice & beans in a napkin then pocket, when they weren't looking.

Not saying there cooking was bad.
That's all we every had.
And **** I'm really glad that's not all they every gave use

Good lessons were taught, we learned them a little later. And If I could go back in time, I wouldn't change our behavior, past moments or memories, because then we would never see that I'm a part of you and are a part me.

Not necessarily a picture perfect family but **** the picture if all it speaks vanity.

Where both in a family tree but your  branch to me is important.

You have been an inspiration for me to go forth with.

All this technology, honestly when I saw you working with computers I wanted to be. Apart from what you where doing even when we where doing different things and just moving.

Trying to find our identities, reckless teen, I can see that what you where doing was never seen. In trouble by seventeen. I thank you for keeping me away from the streets.

Always living inside a lesson learning from your mistakes will soon bring progression. I know I haven't been that expressive, but please take this a compliment not an insult to contend with. Even if we head off into our own directions I know that we will always be connected.
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2022
- title -
yeti-jabba
- body -
no jabba-jedi:
no yetti: igloo makers. 502 bad gateway bypass


i knew a band the name of sister machine gun
existed since... the original Mortal Kombat movie
came out in 1995...
i remember buying the WONG album
in the Our-Price: a sublet of ****** Megastores...
you know... a time when men could have
a second outlet... a music store...
now? what's left? football stadiums?!
   it was like going to church back in the day...
you're spend an hour browsing through
the CDs... i really think the vinyl revolution:
the 2nd coming of vinyl happened too late...
if it happened just a bit earlier...
there would still be a HMV / a ****** Megastore
on Oxford Street... instead of what they have
now... some cheap *** shop that probably
sells fake Primark clothing, items under £1...
mobile phone skins... whatever women buy
to hoard... or to simply spend money on:
that isn't food...
                              oh man... the memory of HMV
and ****** on Oxford St... it's another dimension...
but at the time... the music industry wasn't really
focused on reigniting a man's need for vinyl...
liquorice spinning disks...
   if they jumped in early... figured out the market...
coupled the selling of vinyl with... a digital code...
so you could also download the record you just bought...
personally? i'm a man...
there's never too many books in a personal library...
my own library? could shame the public library
of Romford... my record collection?
that too could shame the public library of Romford...
from what i heard...
****** people get paid 40zl for stashing a(n) Ukrainian:
per day... so the fact that there are not currently
over one million Ukrainians in Poland...
that the population of Warsaw has increased by a 5th
in side... follow the money:
people are actually getting paid to hosts these poor souls...
the poor souls are also given an allowance...
i think i once wrote as a joke:
that Orc joke... racial stereotyping Orcs that's running
runs on the internet: they're Africans...
in Middle-Earth... where's Mordor?
east? right... right... the Ural Mountains?
the Mongolian Invasion... are the Orcs "black"?
or... a hybrid of the Mongols and the reinvented people
the Mongols conquered?
who conquered the Mongol onslaught on
Egypt? the Mamluks... what's that famous quote?
the people of the steppe conquered the people
of the steppe... since the Mamluks (Mamelukes....
Mameluks) were slaves of the Caucasian region...
north eastern Europe... blah blah etc.
but we used to have an outlet...
going to a football match these days is a chore...
i sometimes watch it on t.v.: but i can decipher
the chants of the away fans...
on the t.v.: your support! your support!
your support is ******* ****!
  who the **** are you! who the **** are you!
or at Fulham... esp. at Fulham...
  just before the goalkeeper is about to kick the ball:
oooooooh.... you're ****: aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa(s)h!
sizzle ensemble...
what a tiresome day... woke up at 7am...
had a coffee and a sunset...
a cigarette too...
       went into town for another coffee and a burger
egg muffin at McDonald's...
ate the wrap on a bench in the sun...
crunch... crunch...
           when i my grandparents had an Alsatian...
we're feed it egg-shells... sprinkled over meat...
right... i'm a dog now?
woof...             woof...
               sure... no problem...
i'll eat this extra fibre...
                     it truly is a ****** gig... leave the house at 8am...
come back at 8pm... well... 9pm...
pay £10 for fuel... earn? ****... maybe £40?
it's extortion... but... i can be fazed when i'm
in a good moon... i get to watch a football match for
free... and i get literary fuel...
     yeah... trouble this time round...
not that grand... 4 Ipswich supporters bought tickets
to enter the Oxford Stand...
a minor punch-up... i was yawning throughout...
not that i'm boasting... but yawning while the crowd
gets all exited... when the away team score...
turn your back on the home supporters
and smile at the tourists...
         that usually calms them... eye  contact...
chimpanzee ****...
                    and when the home team scores...
turn your back on the tourists... pretend to be crucified
for about a second... smile... just smile...
make eye-contact...
              i should have been born to be a *******
bus driver... back where i was born...
i always wanted to become a bus driver...
        i should have been a bus driver...
**** me... a aiming at becoming a chemistry teacher?
slightly boring... if you told me:
become an English teacher...
   then again... whatever...
time eclipses...
            it's good to be tired: you reach a ****** of relaxation
that's otherwise unavailable...
plus... me... tired? i'm *****...
all those selfies my would-be g/f of a *******:
duck lips... spectacles: hot teacher fantasy...
they worked the first time i came home
and ****** off "suffering" from constipation...
on the throne of thrones... eased up into some cleavage
and *** photographs... then looked at the photographs
she sent me of her face...
yeah... nice... second time...
i had to have a quickie... with Teanna Trump
and Harley Dean... because... lately...
i'm all into that interracial ****...
                     blondes put me off... botox blondes...
fakery blondes... bleached **** and *****...
if she isn't... licked by the sun a little...
the whole world is going full Brazilian: mind you...
i'm tired: but i'm *****...
but there's not chance of me having ***...
i need to let off steam... anyway...
but the first mistake the guys at Our-Price made was
selling me the "wrong" record...
the Mortal Kombat soundtrack... with bands like...
Sister Machine Gun... Type O Negative...
when it came to buying the Batman Forever soundtrack...
no... i didn't ask for a sly... a substitute...
to the CD i originally wanted...
i didn't want any U2...
    that was when i was still playing with figurines
of superheroes on my bedroom floor...
giving them ****** narratives...
well... when you're a boy... there are not smartphones...
not internet... you play with toys...
i didn't need a ******* batman forever soundtrack...
with U2 being invoked...
the Mortal Kombat soundtrack?
that... that was... i have to admit...
an overlord moment of someone seeing me and saying
to themselves: this boy... needs to have his knowledge
of music... expanded...
but with the batman forever?
i was actually after Elliot Goldenthal's
     Fledermausmarschmusik.... that's... what... i... was...
after... to play with my ******* toys...
oddly enough... each time i *******...
i get a whiff... of Khedra's scent...
i ******* into her: by her own permission...
now... hmm... sniff sniff...
             i smell her body through my: "junk"... *****...
get paid come the first few days of April...
i'll follow up with her: so... that... dinner...
and... the night spent in a hotel room... that's on?
otherwise? sure... i don't mind the hour...
i'm not a Duracell bunny...
it's not like there' a magic ultra-violet button akin
to the political commanders having a magic red button
for the nukes: when it comes to hard-ons...
lucky for me: the right sort of demure...
it's a great sort of "fake"... just stand there...
tensing your shoulders... itching to punch your shadow...
by way: punching yourself... fold your hands...
i don't even have to get a *******
by giving fans the "direct" treatment of authority...
just cross your hands... stand sort of proud...
sort of tall...
better have retained my status as a roofer...
thank god i'm only doing this to get non-familial
references...
on the way back from Oxford...
we sort of just... grunted... the least amount
of conversation i ever experienced...
then again: there were no women in the car...
there were only four guys...
         some comment on traffic:
any update on your grandpa?
                     yeah... that wasn't too bad...
the shift...
                          the supervisor was relaxed
texting while driving...
     put the heating on... real high...
then put the cooling real low...
thank **** he turned it off...
   some traffic on the M25 after four cars crashed...
Dan: so, Matt... what are your plans for tonight?
Matt: oh you know, Dan... just chill out...
have a drink or two... when you get to be 35...
clubbing with girls that are 18 is not much fun...
no cultural references that stick...
i can't be mindful of keeping minors in check...
blah blah: and more blah blah on silent mode...
why do people always seem to want to talk
to break the tension?
surely... just shutting up and being content
with oneself: with one's own presence on silent-mode
is enough to satisfy others: yeah, i'm here...
and yeah: i don't have to somehow feel uncomfortable
by something having to talk... right?

shut the **** up...
"promoted" to the shotgun position in the car...
i like silence... i like not talking...
plus? his grandfather is faking it not having
cancer... so... any insight? any new details?
my grandfather died only 2 years ago...
relatable language...
but my grandmother was a *****...
come again? a different sort of language:
i have no sympathy for her...
she made my grandfather die feeling like:
no one cared for him...
           her son? m'ah... "unkhle"... will not leave her
feeling much more than she already invested
in...

what the **** would i need the typical high street for?
more... shoes? more clothes?!
more mobile phones?!
                 you ****** off with the music shops...
i don't need Oxford St. to exist...
it's a bit like finding the Church going extinct
a second time...
            hell... whiskey sells in shady parts of society...
i don't date: i never thought about dating...
after finding the right sort of ****
in a *******...
      i stopped thinking about that bogus dream...
it's great... let's create a funnel of experience...
some will get through: some will not...
totaling society: some crash...
     come burn... come Braun.
Senor Negativo Apr 2017
Trapped in a 90's british pub
with a wide open tab,
for the duration of eternity.
Curry chips, and curly wirly's,
and pint, after pint, after pint.
Karaoke, and loose bints,
bangers and mash,
bang her in the loo, and a dash of bitters
in my scotch and soda.
MORTAL KOMBAT!!!!!
Too.
Chain smoking ****
that Cannot Cause Cancer,
and slamming my stick
on the Snooker table.
Where did you come from?
Where did you go?
Where did you come from?
Cotton-Eyed Joe.
Where's my friggin' Thai food!?
Look into my Magic Eye
and you will see Heaven.
Forget Email Gate, and Russia Gate.
Amanda Stoddard Jun 2015
I hope the memory of you fades away eventually
but as I am laying in bed instead of counting sheep
I count the reasons you should be with me-
I count the things you do that reminds you of me
the traces I have left behind in your mind.
My eyes close.
1- I hope every time you play Mortal Kombat
you remember I was the one who convinced you to buy it.
and every time you lose you remember I was better then you.
2- Every song on the radio has my name etched in the background
and that saxophone solo you like so much spells out my name
in the crescendos as if it was the same tone of my ******.
3- When you lay awake at night stressing about work in the morning
as you're still high from the hits you take before laying down,
I hope you reach next to you in hopes to find my outline there-
I also hope you don't find it.  
4- in this journey of yours to find yourself again you are reminded it would've been better with me there, rooting you on with every single thing you accomplish.
5- I hope you lay awake at nice missing my voice telling you goodnight and missing my lips as they kiss you to sleep.
6-  I hope you remember I was your greatest lullaby and that you never slept as soundly as you did with me next to you.
7- and that all your ******* exes were just reminders of how much better you had it with me.
8- how you actually had something with me and not just an imaginary preconceived love you didn't have to put any effort into.
9- that you realize I wasn't something you actually did put a lot of effort into.
10- I am falling asleep finally as the anxiety fades from my memory and I remember I love having my bed to myself and not having to worry if you're thinking of me.

1- I roll over and the bear you bought me for christmas speaks to me in a voice I hardly remember. "I love you Amanda"
2- I'm half sleepy and I smile as the thought of you kissing my back and telling me goodnight creeps its way into my mind.
3- Loving you became the only thing I wanted to do right, everything else was just background music.
4- Loving you became the only thing I wanted to do right, but you thought you only did wrong so I became background music.
5- I am having anxiety again as the thought of you clouds my judgment and I begin to stop breathing again.
6- I can't see the figures in front of me or the images on the tv screen I am low again.
7- pacing back and forth in my room trying not ***** the thoughts of you out of my mind, get out of my mind.
8- I look in the mirror and realize this is what you did to me.
9- I was a frail excuse for a women, just longing for the same admiration I gave. I loved you differently than you loved me.
10- we never loved each other in the way we needed. I always felt like I loved you a little more. Like I was a little too much and you were never enough and that these hands could only grip yours in a certain way or would pull back and just put them in your pockets.
10- I hope you find me in those pockets and when your hands get sore from working too much that you remember I never made you work so much for this your hands hurt. I made you better. I made you worse.
10- I am cradled on the floor now hoping to find you there, but you're not.
10- I wonder how this is any different than when we were together.
10- I find myself repeating the same mistakes over and over again.
10- I just want to sleep. So instead of thinking of you, I start to count sheep and I realize those sheep were your disguise all along.
I am done letting the thoughts of you control me
we're not together-
and it makes me realize everything I've sacrificed for you.
I try to count sheep again.
but there aren't any left.
Mia J Aug 2020
Take me back to the times when I didn’t know what I know now.
Take me back to the days where I didn’t know that I existed in a cruel world.
Take me back to where the only faces I naturally smiled at were the people
who truly loved me.
Take me back to the days when my Queen-sized bed was a white crib
and slept for as long as I wanted.
My parents did everything for me while I just smiled and giggled.
Take me back to the times when my car was a stroller and the gas that
kept it going was my parent’s arms.
Take me back to the time when having fun meant riding my bike or scooter
around the park.
Take me back to the days when the only things worth chasing were bubbles
before they got away.
Take me back to the times where the only games I was used to was Dragon Ball Z or Tekken
or Mortal Kombat.
Or games on the websites of Cartoon Network, Disney Channel, or Nickelodeon.
Take me back to the days when the only words to describe boys were annoying or cute.
Take me back to the days when the only friends I knew I had was my teddy bear
or my blanket.
Take me back to the days when the only color I was concerned about was the my favorite one.
Take me back to the days when my devices of entertainment were dolls, toy cars, and
an easy bake oven.
Take me back to the days when the only puzzle pieces to put together were ones my
parents purchased for me.
Take me back to the days where my thoughts were what was for dinner or what I was
going to wear the next day.
Take me back to the days of nap time.
Take me back to the days where the only stories I enjoyed hearing were from Dr. Suess or Eric Carle.

I know I couldn’t wait to grow up.
But I’d give anything for one day of the simplicity I wasn’t thankful enough for.
#OWL'S WORLD
#OWL'******br>
Sic semper tyrannis ad mortem
("Thus always I bring death to tyrants"
by infamous by John Wilkes Booth).

Trump’s tyrannical unsubstantiated
usurpation unleashes ugly Uber vagaries,
venomous vitiating, viva voce vulgarity,
wakening warring wicked woebegone
wretched Xerses, yawping yelping
yipping zeal.

The Doomsday Clock lurched thirty
seconds closer to midnight. As conclave,
sans Atomic Scientists’ Science and
Security Board (advised by Governing
Board and Board of Sponsors – including
Eighteen Nobel Laureates).

Alarm bells clang; declaring emergency
fiasco grips hearts; indoctrination
jacked knifed kraal; linking mankind’s
nemesis; opportunistic Pandora; queuing
rockets; spewing torpedoing urchins;
Versailles visiting violation vis a vis
weathered wracked…xing yanked
Armageddon

If twittering Trump’s troubling trends
trawls toxic, then tinder testy testosterone
terribly tells tattletale taking atrocious,
burglarious, calumnious, disharmonious,
egregious, ferocious, gregarious, hellacious,

ignominious, injudicious, ludicrous,
malodorous, noxious, obnoxious, pernicious,
querulous, rapacious, salubrious, tenebrious,
unctuous, vicious, wamefous, xylophagous
yields zany zealous zippered zombies.

Prognosticators warn with more urgency
deleterious, dicey donnybrook dumbstruck
fatally feverish, fiery, foolishly frenetic, horribly
humungous, jaggedly jittery, jumbuck Kaiser
kamikaze Kant, kerosene kindling kleptocracy,
kneading lawlessness, learns lessons leaving

lousy luck, nurturing nattering nabobs, peevishness
provoking, puck, Quaking quickening quotidian
rabble rioting rousers, rogues ruthless seismic
spasms strike terror, tinder tomahawks torching
treasures, tidily trickily, troika trove truck.

Cobalt blue eyes per president; pierce panorama;
   pessimistic perception processed
decisions made heavily impinging lives, sans
   people across America,
   laser focus personal quest
quickly embarked, whence twitter feeds ***** riot
   with tweets hinting of political unrest
sprung from provocation fostering folks far and wide

   to speculate motives donned vest
Commander in chief wields iron fist foisting
   wharf air tumultuousness harboring ship of state
   foisting risky business viz electric cool aid acid test
sites set with “full speed ahead”, and
   “**** the torpedoes” fueling
   anarchy, chaos and enormous repercussions

   within sea of humanity wrest
in pieces slung with barrage on behalf of self anointed
   supreme ruler re: Stars and Stripes
   indulging angry rants foment civil chaos,
   where trumpeting hooligans dressed
as hooded lambs curry pandemonium
   proudly straining breeches qua exploits best
exemplified thru prophesies predicting schisms

   starting as faults hair brained baddest
dread locked bunched braids presaging
   deadly mortal Kombat inciting global Jihad lest
the reins of totalitarianism clutched tight
   by septuagenarian who covets ability
   to wield mutant ninja turtle warrior clout
   more precious and priceless than fine
   spun golden toys alas cooped in the attic,  
   or goodies in ***** trapped treasure chest.
to parlay a view to unleash
   nuclear weapons on cue
destroying vast swaths
   of flora and fauna,

   most inn no cent life forms
   will pay hefty due
to assuage aggressively
   cruel, enjoyably

   growling goal, and indubitably
   kick *** mindset worse
   than dengue fever will ensue
a combustible domino effect
   fueling global horror -
   analogous to kindling tinder logs smoke

   jetting up fireplace flue
witnessing sovereign spookiest
   magnum opus - trans
   forming much of animal
   and plant life into goo
(especially if special prosecutor Robert Mueller let go)
far scarier than any macabre production

   dreamt up by human
   frightful scenario hero
she ma (paltry in comparison)
   will rescue us from deadly debacle,
   nor any safe haven such as cool igloo

forsooth thee annihilation
   will far surpass
   any prior world war,
   no one will be spared,
   neither gentile nor Jew
which all out total mortal kombat,
   and attendant laying waste

   organisms livingsocial
   will instantaneously undergo cremation,
   where flecks of ashes will spread like Kudzu
rendering the world wide web
   fetid, offal, and putrid
   far more noxious than the common loo

yet even this general description
   falls far short to where mew
tinny, sans hardy species
   (according to Google search);
   such as tardigrade, mummichog, and cockroach
decimating, heaving, leveling, poisoning

   nearly every cubic inch of Earth
   evincing voluminous vaporization
   extant eradication emphatically
   nixed, punctuated, and radiated
   pulverization eviscerating bowels of mankind,

   where nary a survivor
   could weather and withstand
   hollowed out no mans land
   bereft of sustenance or water
   where seeds of white lily when coalescence
   of oblate spheroid birthed,
   nursed, and weaned new

life especially proto **** sapiens
   and subsequent kin grunting
   with ah and ew
fast tracked primates,
   yet inherent within genetic coda
   (perhaps poison ingredient bubbling

  within primordial soup - steeped qua pew
tar nation housing crucible-
   analogous to planetary size
   mortar and pestle) queue
sans predestination, where rue

brick, dogma, and fealty honoring justice slew
by paws of one cancerous,
   fractious and idolatrous Lothario,
   who opened Pandora Box
   (rigged by bobbies shut tight) thorough
lee rendered civilization a foot note

   of cosmological history and universal view
where if one eligible voter
   chose alternate (Democratic) candidate -    
   the major will exhale a collective whew
and allow, enable and provide
   continuance of the human zoo!
Death of mother hallowed out silence
   more painful then  buzzing power tool,
aye never again saw,
   nor heard industriousness jollity eviced,
   contrasted when mourning did rule

wrought immediate cessation
   from his strong lance throwing arms,
   where artisanal magic did un spool
and ample tears streamed down raw cheeks
enough   o fill a pool

uncertain if sparring with depression sprung
   via loss of a Coney Island jewel
whose poverty she claimed (shamefully)
   most meals comprising thin gruel
rescuing a damsel in distress thence deceased didst fuel

   unwonted burded, and forced him to spar
   with fear he might lose the duel
left alone in a old mansion
   with only fond fading memories utmost cruel.
----------------------------------------------------------­----------
Suddenly without bedmate and counterpart
   one month shy of fifty years, no deity could answer
razor sharp emotional pain cut to the quick
   recollecting ballroom dancer

himself as a handsome youth so graceful and suave,
   fast as Bill Haley, or comet
   and lightly afoot in seventh heaven as a prancer
oh..and ever the debonair, humorous, and loving romancer
where pixie dust sprinkled via an invisible en trancer.  
-----------------------------------------------------------------­---
Uterine/ovarian Cancer metastasized
   dealing deathblow, and took more than mother away
her rigor mortis terminated love labor lost,
   whence second love sans father,
   his hands no longer did oh bay,    

whose once passion to ply his creative handiwork
   heartfelt interest hardened as sun baked clay
where formerly, he spent energy and time
Page Number Two:  

drafting designs and building ornate creations
   most every night and day,
which lifelong penchant to draw
   (deepseated and etched within his genes)
   until profound grief did flay  
dealt mortal kombat towards,
   whence toiling at basement workbench

   colored his world blackish gray
nor would he respond, and only tearful sorrow
   exuded upon losing the special maiden, whom he lay
down and begot thyself and two sisters,

   during living years sans lightness of being an a may
fly expert designer, creator and builder –
   during me chilhood objects like play  
house and Flintsone car

   (with license plate to boot), beaming with ray
dee ants at products of imagination got wrought,
   until grim reaper did slay
purposefulness and will power to remain alive  
   pronounced sadness witness loss of appetite

   and considerable diminishing beefiness obvious
  without him getting atop scale for a weigh
but fate smiled upon accursed widowerhood,

   and now for quite some time,
   a gal took hull hiking to history
   and the restaurant at the end
   of the galaxy they went – yay!
i barely get ma palm pilot sized
   dear derriere i.e. gluteus maximus in the air
just a cat whisker across the DeMilitarized Zone
  (DMZ in military parlance),

   when the Earth shuddered from blare
ring fusillade expressed detonation
   issued by Kim Jung Un,
   whose craven dark excitement clear

motive predicated
   to lob Holiday nuclear missiles,
   and South Koreans (no matter
   mostly innocent victims), whelp hay dear

for siding, identifying, fraternizing, colluding,
   et cetera with the enemy (in general,
   the NATO bound countries) 'ere
really quiet, as preparation (H) gets made

   to bring out the big guns
   (actually shaped like a fleshy
   posterior man bun) in truth one
   dead reckoning sphincter muscle

   that doth flair
impossible to espy, cuz sieve
   all the flak whistling induce sing a glare,
but...the Hermit Kingdom got another

   bad a$$ bombardier deathly, stealthily quiet,
   hence released **** Jed
  eye ordnance impossible to hear
yet this silent deadly *** sass sin hated

   hard as a ribbed rock stainless steel
   guaranteed to wreak havoc, with loathing
   and other emotions hints sin sere
which top secret (never bottomed out

   during test practice trials,
   whereat Johnny spot on)
   proved to vaporize underwear
and caused a "big stink"
   that lasted about one year.

what information divulged
   ye moost promise never to share
else...any turn coats
   can not muster posterior haste,

   yet will need to seek out specialty
   of proctologist who doth rear
lee **** seed unfortunate victim
   blind sided immune to any prayer

so...upon confiding this tidbit,
   I strongly advise tubby not near
as you might already correctly guess,
   when while mooning Pyongyang

well taut smart cheeks,
   with blasting buttocks akin to
   young Frankenstein blazing saddles
as sole oozing gaseous
   flatulence majority

   of North Koreans will not here
amidst din and clangor "bad medicine"
   propelled ****** bowel
   movement game changer

   will hit designated target precisely clear
t'will invite "freedom fighters"
   tubby regaling with a jubilant aire
total mortal Kombat levels threat of "Fat Boy",

whose po' country mutilated,
   reduced, wasted to ashes after
   every nuclear and
   traditional military contrivance,
  an IC a BM (mine) did destroy.
george Mar 2017
about my childhood
and left me naked on my bed

twitter won't stop me from this pain
Mortal Kombat doesn't feel the same
my youth, my eyes, my thoughts, my dreams, and my ******* brain
tell me how can one man stay sane?
When they swallowed their imagination
for corporation money
and left us with a staggering minds of a sheep
and a soul that doesn't bleed

thoughts spilled out of my memories
my soul left for dead for centuries
gave myself a long nap
questioning my existence formed gap
wake up wake up wake up

I don't blame myself for my sad existence
beyond the ageing testimony between my childhood and my grave
but yes i buried my youth under the stars
it faded and disappeared with the birds and the flowers of our time
left it in an early morning cartoon show
cat n mouse

pathetic brillance

roller blades and computer rooms
nostalgic backdrop inside my head
crumpled beneath the nights and the sunrise

what a sad way to die?
fap, fap, fap

truth.

social reality-- numbness boyhood dreams
beyond the lost souls dreaming for the highest beam
lost and found? no
life goes on
FROM WHITE HOUSE

I ham aghast at increasing banality, deviltry, ferocity,

   imbecility, liability, obscenity, rapacity, ugly

   offal popularity witnessed by Donald trump

hence aye aerate thoughts,

   how *** a nine his banal, demoniacal,

   egomaniacal, fanatical, guttural, and hurtful


   culling frightening insight, where portentous more deadly than

   sport ugh guise Man 'o War debacle

   doth crowdsource, flickr, and indeed long foster

   my plenti full over active imagination


   to induce writhing expressions of fearfulness

   proportionate burst of haughtiness) while he doth stump

would animate mine rear i.e. rather noxious flatulence

   expelled from outward doppelganger of ****

pull stilts skin cuz this chap haint Noah fan, but wood vouchsafe

   tub be a jimmy neutron n sponge bob squarepants


   Ark n saw wing enemy against da dull don dat pumps

swaggering bravado with fist swelling ego

  analogous to his body infected with severe case of mumps

that brazen denizen hurling and spewing volcanic fiery spittle


   with incense against others – to him mere lumps

of protoplasm heckled as inferior to himself

  boasts as proof of favoritism, that enervating, fawning,

   gabbling feverish arrogant mania for him jumps

higher than expected,


   while he commits faux paws which bumps

his ratings higher, he gleefully endorses

  pandemonium toward gloating gump

  shun from the uproarious. querulous

  and populous madding crowd!


throughout launch of his campaign,

  banally, devilishly, and fiendishly

   character assassinating those opposed to his views -

inducing me to harrumph and dump faith

   in humanity, wondering what ruse

smart democratic pol mongers can conjure up


  while pacing in soft shoes  

woeful sentiments sans his attempt did render

  competitors to drop out in ones n twos

whom he purportedly considers apostates,

   and heathens cons heed Make America Great use

all manner of bullying (determination whose occipital pupils

coalescing into searing grape nut size wrath poisonous daggers)

   forcibly silencing any jeers

when necessary plagiarizing neo **** play book with a "who cares"


attitude closing in on pinteresting

  for United Stated chess board foursquare,

which deliberate intent to foment n wrought prostrate -

music to those hoteliers billion dollar ears


   sans defeated apprenticing contestants hearing sobbing tears

with vitriolic violent bilious inducing jabs of his a will full spears

   reputations of personalities (men and women politicians

  his especial flavor of scathing, scandalous, scabrous sordidness


   spewed squeamishly to grab by the figurative crotch

   the hello kitty 2016 presidential election),

   whether liberal, conservative, heterosexual or queers

thus this middle-aged mwm abject psychic fractal shears!


the following poetic addendum composed way buff fore

(in my mind) atrocious, cretaceous, enormous, ferocious,

garrulous, hellacious, indecorous, malicious nemesis,

pernicious, querulous, rapacious, specious, tedious,

unrighteous, vicious, dangerous demon

must BE STOPPED IN HIS TRACKS ASAP!


DONALD TRUMP – RE: DUCKS --

this portion dashed off (while dry ving an open white hearse slay

so many months back before sale him slotted the most coveted

Casino biggest win - before the political imbroglio

   much more upsetting than today


Axe the old don

A trump peter n piper of incredulous hellish crud - be gone

With the ha air brushed pompous ****

  so Macy jackal hound doth run

After public outcry yelps for his hide and proletarian discord won!


Donald Duck Trump ™$ - a pompous ***

makes war with his big brass

knuckles and bucket of crass

maligns vis a vis character assassination with bro kin glass

inciting banal deathly hallowed expletives toward lass

sees – especially Fox Television

   news anchor woman Megyn Kelly


   inducing said personality to bear grizzly brunt of brutish mass

of vitriolic n vile insults from incriminating verbal pass  

   so…ex post facto viz mine NO VOTE from me

   thus this digital screed to disallow him

   to accept the oath of office, cuz he will hurrahs  

   from such a snooty arrogant simian with sass!


I van a try to describe while sitting on me ****

How he oh bomb in lee rages with gnashing teeth

  while back a slump

Blasting Democratic nomination as a sham –

  From special interest bro and sis turn pump


He, the epitomy of crass bloviation, a malignant lump

Whose rants sans presidential sham rocked outcome

   lets him trounce, pounce, denounce

   liberal Democratic stalwart efforts bolstering middle class

   to blitz total mortal kombat like a rabid red bull

   in a China shop with his millions beds this,


  That and another woman to ******* jump

Disseminating gene pool – Obama null lee birthing

   more quackery and additionally doth ****

The mass media as some foolhardy charade


   characterizes abominable (MORE FRIGHTFUL THAN YETI):

   culpable, deplorable, execrable,

   et cetera of a frazzled grump, This arboreal clothed ape

   Erecting Taj Mahal ******* symbol where players dump

And gamble away hard earn cash


   For his hello kitty, as if cachet to grind and bump

Lambasting with that maniacal leering pout

   while hair *** runs rampant with red bulls

   In a China shop atop his bulbous

   aerosol sprayed heady measly shaped


  ulterior motive aimed his sights to become Pastor of Muppets

  Dis eased cranial hologram

   Of cretaceous, facetious and insidious mump!


By: Baron von Ivan Mal N. Ya.
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2017
it's gone way past the late 1980s concern for the typewriter...
like russell crowe in fathers & daughters...
i could say: luckily i'm a man,
but then i have to have this phobia
of "being" prone to enforced castration...
or however that theory goes...
      and however much i look at
free-expression outlets,
   i just see more and more of the cartesian
libra weighed down
(way   ga ga d, ed, edited... sure
english is complex weight sounds nothing like
weighed, to say, down boy! down!) -
there's more of the "i am" than
there is of the "i think"...
like walking to a speed-dating event
and having the label: hi, my name is Fred...
so whereas the one ascribed to history looked
like this:
                                           i am

                           Δ

i think

the modern day picture looks like:

i think

                          Δ

                                             i am...

and then apply copernicus to it...
left? right? left of right? right of left?
               that's just pointing at the world and saying:
i had so much narrative potential in me
that i actually liked the mundane aspects of it being there,
but then "i think" outweighed the stressors
for an "i am"... we live in a predominantly "i am"
culture... beginning with atheism...
    atheism is predominantly an "i am" base
for the cartesian seesaw... that noun alone does it for me:
present-past... 1945 evidently had to happen,
and since western society is quick to slurp
that magic juice so quickly it gives them a brain-freeze
is all the more evident...
        great cultural impetus though...
i mean, i could listen to certain music all day
and feel nothing related to the obnoxious sound
of knocking on a door...
     like: knock knock... who who? bye.
the best "christmas" present i ever received was
by going into a music store back in the 1990s...
          and buying a movie soundtrack for mortal
kombat... because that game tells you:
from the game? a great movie... and music esp.,
street fighter? what, jean claude van damme?
stroll through the kew gardens...
       or trying to catch a mosquito's testicles wearing
boxing gloves...
                  but back in the day when Ilford shopping
mall had an ourprice (that ***** of a daughter of
****** megastores)...
        this one salesperson asked me why i wanted
the classical score to batman forever,
rather than the movie soundtrack with
u2's hold me, thrill me, kiss me, **** me...
      and i was certain: i need to play with my G.I. Joes...
the 20th century... looks funny now,
how we played with those pieces of plastic...
   living in the aura of both the Chernobyll
aftermath, and the Chinese State one child policy...
oh i wouldn't dare to call my life fascinating,
thought provoking or in need of a book...
but then i also think that the biography of
Don Giovanni is a bit stupid... with a life like that?
please... why write a book?
  such are the times, the concerns for "i think"
are out... outdated... never to be seen ever again...
thinking has become less of an identity basis
for modern man... than what concerns "needing"
to stress the "i am"... of that cartesian seesaw...
i am: blah trans blah cis blah atheist blah blah, blah...
me? i'm working on surds...
try to catch me talking into the internet...
last time i was using this medium i was wondering
why a website doesn't have ctrl + c block parameters
to enforce, even by moderate hopes, a case
for ©...
              and why _ and the * could collide
when writing ex_machina...
                     or that chestnut of deus ex machina:
now is the time more than ever:
   we made it, we can state a **** ex machina
arguments given we have such technological
advances... oh look... hello woman in tokyo!
i'll probably see more of you than my neighbour...
one word why i chose the classical score
for batman forever over u2...
      fledermausmarschmusik:
what's that? fleeing mouse-march music...
    or marching mouse music, if you're going to
chop the hyphen off and rewrite german, in english
like you're write it from left to right (in grammatical
terms), rather than right to left;
yet this is precisely the point,
  the serious stuff goes into the music,
even if the project can only be seen as a cover
that's the basis for infantalism...
  ah... that word always gets me "dyslexic"...
infantilism... t tee tea?
       english for you, king crimson and
in the court of the crimson king... dance of
the vowels... ******* demonic entities, wry from
the divorce of the grapheme adam & eve (æ):
which is hardly an æsc / ash, given it could
just be given a treatment of -esque...
    surgeon! es kay? risky! ah.... ha ha ha ha!
so using this medium like i might use
hairs off a horse's mane to play the violin once
stretched and kept keen in a bow...
    and paper comes from trees and glass from sand:
the mad ingenuity that could ever be exploited...
which means this really isn't much:
i spent the past hour watching a double rainbow
appear, and then disappear...
come sunset i was trying to figure out what to
call the colour of clouds that allowed the rainbow to
appear... is that plums... or bruises?
then you open a monday newspaper and read the headlines
that the internet is making...
  and thinking... Alan Turing? they really shouldn't
have ****** with you;
unlike some of us, who thank you for creating a world
where capitalism stands on its head and
some of us don't care for provocation or
book-deals... and... well... just find the whole
endeavour into writing to be relaxing...
       given that talking was never really on the cards,
or needed; so yes, thank you for provoding
the skrót.
Thy birth on January 13th – cervical contractions would not abate
the pesky master (papa), strove to synchronize his seminal bait
thence, forty-two weeks after ma parents did pro create
Imminent lviii plus years ago to date
this present baby boomer doth indubitably and inherently equate
Nineteen hundred and fifty nine
   bequeathed birthed mine kempf ill fate
neurological manifestation sans obsessive compulsive did grate
behavioral motif and analogous to frontispiece per the story I hate
of my life and hard times, when all of a sudden out the blue irate

the onset of emotional nadir,
   where ballistic ordnance bombed away
fancy free, innocent, naïve boyhood
   decrying, detonating, and describing me own Pigs Bay
Allied, linkedin, and synced Luftwaffe
   and Panzer division invasion that clay
like materiel within southern cerebral hemi
   sphere inroads usurped no delay
riding roughshod via synapse straits sporting
   scoring sorties using every
axe n newer on dread did Swiss hide dill naught
   to decimate with Sherman determination tuff flay
leaving not one iota (oft times) referenced as gray
matter unaffected quite aware
   of rebellious confederated voices yelling “HOORAY”

Sabotaging orbitofrontal communication incorporating connection between anterior cingulate gyrus cortex heightening activity bridging (via atom sized pontoon bridges) greater activity upon basal ganglia, which synoptic description does nothing to alter the predisposition to ingress of uncontrollable imbecilic, inexplicable, and illogical fixation particularly during onset of puberty, when an emotional kamikaze nose dive at the nadir of near lifelessness, the shadow of me former self nowhere tubby found on account of deadly symbiotic relationship asper the invisible nemesis – i.e. electrical impulses faux nattering nabobs of mien nativity whereat unseen thriving sensational riffraff quenched powerhouse ousting nestled milkmaids, or rather pressing said resources sans vitality into dangerous, frivolous, and horrendous self destructive antics, where ballistic charges drugged eminent domain former nerve cell size occupants, thoroughly re-engineering sense and sensibility with pride fullness and prejudice on par with dousing one with an ****** that completely upends functioning healthily, judging lovingly, and managing productively versus expending precious time and energy self absorbed into manic, neurotic, and/or psychotic actions, manners, thoughts, et cetera, which irrationality got embedded within the neurological interstices, which even as of this moment hound me akin to wild beasts circling ever closer to launch mortal kombat against their very housing.
Stephen Leacock Dec 2020
Me a run around deh place with out
a facemask with my Toyota corolla
Yah a smell yah breath because of corona
Me ah see a gal ah rona
she tell  meh she sista name mona
She ah ware a red dress and deh with deh owner
The thing ah pass name
Corona corona corona
We ah drink with me friends me is deh owna
Me deh with deh gal and me get a bonner
She tell me she want me to bone her
We at the hotel she said she want it in her hola
she ah halla in bed and she name mona mona mona  
She ask me who is me me tell she i am deh landowna
She ask me wha business meh do i tell she i is a mine owner
She want money i tell she Things nah do because of  
Corona corona corona
The thing ah jump from owna to owna
Yah nose a run but yah nah know is corona
corona corona corona
Yah a recover thinking is a cold but is corona
Nuff people ah dead than deh owna
Yah nah know who is deh owna
Deh owna deh owna de owna
Waring a mask looking like a doctor looking for a blood donor
Saving Lives of with the blood of corona  corona
Lady in the bus and cough everyone think she name rona
The man without deh a mask talking to rona
He go home to he wife with rona
The wife nah know but rona
Corona corona corona
Yah belly ah hut yah nah know is corona
Yah kiss yah friend she now got corona
Yah deh work with corona  corona  corona
We get bat ears because of corona  corona
We turn ninja and fight war with corona corona corona
Mortal Kombat with corona  corona  corona   corona   corona  
Ware a mask because of corona   corona   corona  
Blue ***** on yah face corona corona
Thy birth on January 13th –
   cervical contractions
   would not abate
the pesky master (papa), strove

   to synchronize seminal bait
thence, forty-two weeks
   after ma parents did pro create
imminent lviii plus years ago to date,

this present baby boomer doth
   indubitably and inherently equate
nineteen hundred and fifty nine
   bequeathed birthed mine kempf ill fate

neurological manifestation,
   sans obsessive compulsive did grate
behavioral motif and analogous
   to frontispiece per story I hate
of my life and hard times,
   when all of a sudden out blue irate,

the onset of emotional nadir,
   where ballistic ordnance bombed away
fancy free, innocent, naïve boyhood
   decrying, detonating,
   and describing me own Pigs Bay

Allied, linkedin, and synced Luftwaffe
   and Panzer division invasion that clay
like materiel within southern cerebral hemi
   sphere inroads usurped no delay

riding roughshod via synapse straits sporting
   scoring sorties using every
axe n newer on dread did
   Swiss hide dill naught

   to decimate with spirited ghost
   of William Tecumseh Sherman
   determination tuff flay
leaving not one iota (oft times)
   referenced as gray
matter unaffected quite aware
   of rebellious confederated voices
   yelling “HOORAY”

Sabotaging orbitofrontal communication
incorporating connection between anterior
cingulate gyrus cortex heightening activity
bridging (via atom sized pontoon bridges)

greater activity upon basal ganglia, which
synoptic description does nothing to alter
the predisposition to ingress of un control
able imbecilic, inexplicable, and illogical
fixation particularly during onset of puberty,

when an emotional kamikaze nose dive
at nadir of near lifelessness, the shadow
of me former self nowhere tubby found
on account of deadly symbiotic relationship

asper the invisible nemesis – i.e. electrical
impulses faux nattering nabobs of mien nativity
whereat unseen thriving sensational riffraff
quenched powerhouse ousting nestled milk
maids, or rather pressing said resources,

sans vitality into dangerous, frivolous,
and horrendous self destructive antics,
where ballistic charges drugged eminent
domain former nerve cell size occupants,
thoroughly re-engineering sense and sensibility

with pride fullness and prejudice on par
with dousing one with ****** completely
upends functioning healthily, judging lovingly,
and managing productively versus expending
precious time and energy self absorbed

into manic, neurotic, and/or psychotic actions,
manners, thoughts, et cetera, which irrationality
got embedded within the neurological interstices,  
even as of this moment hound me
akin to wild beasts circling ever closer
to launch mortal kombat against their very housing.
headland harbored primitive biota abut
mint for exotic sole terrain sustaining
sole terrain sustaining seeds, spores, spermatozoa, ova
   seeds, spores, spermatozoa, ova , et cetera gut
preserved within mine follicular pores, sans
I secured per woof and meow wing warp organic matter
   heir in to fore shielded from elements akin to thatched hut
aware wrenching kamikaze eradication
   of countless critters from many Godaddy longlegs;

   creepy crawlers, hops scotching,
   shimmying with schmaltz, moon walks, et cetera
   lost when germ warfare obliterated vast majority
   since advent of civilization ordained
   Proletariat and Plebeian Primate  
   (cherishing, fostering, insulating
   bon mot infinitesimal dot re: future mutt)
dogs and also cats off limits

   asper demise of other creatures decimated – tut tut
atop thine noggin housed (within thimble size nut)
rare and near extinct flora and fauna, what
species of plants and animals, whose preserve comprised
   equivalent of indigenous village people huddling within microscopic yut.

Thus, this bipedal simian angst riddled at experiences
   forced at figurative crossroad
when itching scalping a dead giveaway clue
   to lather up hirsute growing via bald faced code
at further expense invisible life forms such action would erode
fast dwindled diversity, hegemony, longevity
   i.e. population except **** Sapiens who didst goad

forefingers needed to massage and scrub thine scalp
   as like a field getting hoed
sometimes applying solely cold water **** to un load
a healthy plethora, where gushing shower head would send them
down the drain perhaps displacing their meal times,
   or feasting on louse see pie ala mode
aware that survival odds regarding

   getting thru water treatment plant, premonition aye node
and greater chance to avert total mortal kombat avoided
   if I trekked to Antarctic anti pode
so...similar to other occasions necessitating me
   to lather 50 shades of gray –

   as if subjected to being snowed
quite aware many people would avoid me like the plague
(which reaction eagerly embraced) if knotty,
   oily, straggly natural headresss
hence, this outlier surrendered got gently toad
value of hygience lost as if playing tictactoe x/oed.

— The End —