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Elaina Feb 2013
the mantus, praying
prayer in life. prayer in death. home.
unwavering faith
Pacheco May 2019
I kneeled
Like a Mantis,
In front of you.
I got on your back,
Like you wanted me to
I thought when you turned
That you'd make us a bed
But your mouth became red
And I knew I had misread
When you started eating
my head
Instead
Knit Personality Apr 2016
They come together in the night,
   Amid the leaves, within the bush,
   Silent inside the stilly hush,
Beneath the full moon shining bright.

Healthy and large and leafy green,
   She beckons him of smaller size,—
   A woody, twig-like male, who flies
To meet his mate, his mantis queen.

They come together and seem as one,
   As though one twig with emerald leaves
   Were moving much with little breeze
Where shade rebuffs the noonday sun.

They turn their heads to share a kiss,
   Antennae twining round like vines.
   The male ignores the warning signs,
Oblivious to what's amiss.

The kiss becomes a vicious bite.
   She chews off quickly half his face.
   He holds, despite this, his embrace,—
Holding it fast and gripping tight.

Headless in bites, he needs no head,
   Continuing the ***** deed.
   His queen discovers her no need
Either of this, nor cares he's dead.

Finished with him, herself she frees.
   He twitches yet, although a corse.
   As though a leaf swept by a force
Of wind, she leaves upon a breeze.

O.O
Chris Saitta May 2019
Her eyes are the lighthouse of the Pharos,
Alexandrian, bronze-mirrored fire flung round
The gloaming coastal sorrow like sand-glittered spears.

Her praying mantis limbs of light,
Sever-poised for needlepoint strike
At the jeweled glint of wings in dim, rare-seen limits,
Now one with her rasping sea of scarab beetle husks.
Matterhorn Dec 2018
scene I:

a squirrel
in the road,
cars whizzing by
left and right,
narrowly missing
the fearless traveler
by the shortest hair
of its bushy tail.

scene II:

a young bird
in a nest,
screeching loudly
as a human child does,
though not for fear
or hunger,
but anticipation;
then leaping into unknown vastness.

scene III:

a caterpillar
traversing a leaf,
the green ground
shifting, swaying,
as the teenage insect
searches for the place,
the perfect place,
for a coming of age.

scene IV:

an ant
building,
laboring feverishly,
driven by pure instinct,
innate obligation—
perhaps love?—
to create a world
it likely will not see.

scene V:

a mantis
praying,
a final worship
to an unseen,
unknown God,
preparing for the ultimate,
honorable sacrifice,
to be unremembered by his brood.

scene VI:

a grizzly
charging through the brush,
a mad fear in her eyes,
in her heart,
as she bull-rushes
the two barrels
that threaten her only child
and will surely take her.

scene VII:

a rebel flag
emblazoned on the
rear window of the truck,
the truck driven by a man
who cares little that
his 7/11 cup now lays by
the side of the road,
or for the journey he just ended.
© Ethan M. Pfahning 2018
Medusa Aug 2018
all our little itches come out to play
I eat them aflame as if I were next

I know I am to be
next comestible girl thing

something, irritant beneath your back teeth

and you sit on your sofa and wonder
you fall down my stairs and look up

we sleep by the river and listen
to the frogs and the praying mantis
as they glisten

all that matters
as they walk a certain way

all that wonders
why you and I just

seemed to fade a——way

as I couldn't chew weeds
like the rest of them
as if a dog choke chain we rot
circus familiar to me,

smile like you feel it, baby,
grin as if you are inside those
photo graphs

see clouds of pink paint
descended of you
clouds love me so
love me more than you

I am what I am
a fog of knowing

knowing how you will love me
in your very veins is restful
eases me to sleep a rolling
train way dream each night

midnight wakes me
your name on my lips

I am a dark slick highway woman
moaning like a new birthed bird

I am never going to be yours

but you could borrow me
take all that  I am

I will be here sighing,
waiting for the true blue

****** of you

everything we could have been
never leaves us, that’s a myth
we see now, and it has no service

I choose for us a perfect ending
this is my living song
I just forgot
how to sing

really, I thought for once
we nestled in your
head
Written in a few minutes.  It had to get out.
Mateuš Conrad May 2017
11
.ich bin der feuer, das bloß isst, und isst, und isst... und... isst; ein feuer das für immer verbrauchen!

i counted...
you know how many times, it takes a male
sparrow to approach a female sparrow,
            to impregnate her?
                                                 11... ELEVEN -        eh-lé-ven...
                            é-le(h)-ven...
­             times...
                                          it's almost like
******* for the darwinists...
                                   at least the marxists say:
                                 woman ≠ mantis ≠ black widow spider...
the biology of marxism is stated, plainly:
we exclude all other biological products
of this earth... we accept a case for bio-diversity...
    but what will transgender ever do for us?
as asked, simply an e.g.
                       marxism doesn't draw conclusion
from the animal realm...
     it's not supposed to...
                          you want to compare yourself
to a mantis?    **** me! go right ahead...
       "eat" the man in the legal courts...
                   bite his head off... or at least make
his head focus on the vector alimony.
                 marxism is species exlusive...
            social darwinism? it's species inclusive...
hence the comparisons...
                                 women as black widows...
       it's ******* sick... at least compare yourself
to a ******* serpent...
               which, i'm trying to find the ****,
and eyelids on...
                                    huh?
                  ­ last time i heard snakes don't blink...
and that's auto-suggestive of the question:
   how do they take a ****?
                      i can't call the cards stating a
"cultural" marxism... since what is cultural,
                                      is actually darwinism.
by now, marxism says: stop the ******* comparison
of the highest form of mammal (human)
                with the lowest form of reptile (insect)!
*******!               and if that's not what's going on,
then i'm either dead, writing from beyond the grave,
of plain stupid...     the self-raising flour type
                                                 of argumentative(s);
the moment they stop denying that cultural darwinism
doesn't exist?       that's when you have an excuse.
me? i have my whiskey, and my cigarettes,
    and some fleetwood mac...
                                     and i live on the borderline
between an urban environment, and the countryside...
       what's one of my favourite hobbies while drinking?
sorting oout the trash... i have this fetish for
     recycling... i get all itchy fingers, like an octopus
when it comes to sorting out the trash...
          like a german with his wind-farm's worth turbines...
i love recycling... those orange bags...
                   you know that marxism was born from
             the meagre material of hegel's lecture notes, right?
and that mongolia was the first communist country?
     yeah, they experimented the ideology in mongolia, first.
anyway... getting drunk, and taking out the trash...
        recycling...    for some reason, i can only compare it
to riding a bicycle in the english countryside...
    or the sound of a french horn... compared to a cow farting.
a maine **** farting:
**** me, that's like seeing the taj mahal!

p.s.
i find it uncomfortable to find millenials
faking praises of the gen-Z...
ping-pong in the modern labyrinths
of shopping, really?
you said your bit, let me say mine...
   people are not made to become
precursors?! really?!
   problem...
as a male... an older woman drunk
looks pathetic:
an old man drunk: eh... that's just normal...
an 50+ aged bachelor:
no problem...
a 50+ "maiden": that's terrible...
a solitary man ageing doesn't
look half as bad as an ageing woman...

   who looks better:
roger moore "vs." helen mirren?
too many predictions /
past the common spreschen:
predicts in association to
a respectable lingua...

what are, "my" precursors for the worth
of completing myself...
i hear the warrior-"philosophers"
spew...
    in light of infanticide...
man up man up to, what?
   what are my ambitions in
and to thorough life?
              none resemble the affects
associate with serving the ambitions
of a genus, of a species,
of a cultural darwinism narrative,
as if to, magically,
counter the cultural marxist narrative...
i am to counter?
really?! what's there's to counter?
all the idiot will be half-way through
breeding while i'm planning
my exit strategy...
the human species will be fine
and dandy... whether white or copper
skinned is beside the point...
i just don't tend to appreciate
abortion frivoloties and whatever remains
of masculine ambitions...
well i already know what "masculine ambition"
involves with the opposite ***...
within the confines of oneself...
hello prison esque "return the favor"...
shoved my head up my own ***
for too long i guess...
or a not deep enough pocket of "spare" change...
to fund:
               how many moments of insight will
you find listening to a high-heel
on a vinyl rack when a vinyl is missing?!
as many as i would ever have...
   nooooooooooooooooooon!

    what have i not obliged myself to become
to counter social expectations?
i am a social nuisance...
    a culmination of the reigning pathos...
but a sorry state of affairs
is truly a woman in her 30s and her 40s
with... more an abortion in hand
than a birth of a child and a second child
to come...
  a drunk woman always appears more
forlorn than a drunk man....
as a man: i am persistent in providing
myself with the ambition
of giving birth ti myself,
even after i am born...
   i am still to be born,
in that i am to give birth to myself:
a feat, which will finally materialise upon
my death...
but a woman?
     if she hasn't ventured into her
biological realism of spawning birth...
that outcompetes her own
intellectual endeavour and surpasses it?
i don't have that existential luxury
of an existential fulfillment process of
the "easy answer"...
the best i can accomplish to compensate
a replica in terms of being pregnant
is harvest an array of parasites...
tapeworm or cancer...
certainly not a matthew,
or a samatha, or a malachi,
        or an amelia.

                   the closest i'll ever come
to an experience of a foetus is my own ego...
to learn to disembody myself in the variations
of:
   (a) the reflexive: myself, and
(b) the reflective: my self...
                  women have the easy existential
explanation: to provide the continuum narrative...
"we", men? the sort of ******* that comes
in between, the custard explanations,
the excuses worth the ingenuity of "problems
solved".

   question is: where these the "problems"
to begin with?
    this desolate man still concerns himself
with tennis:
two players...
an array of umpires... the size of a football team
(11)... and the ball collector boys / girls
(6)...
       an old bachelor... is half the problem
of the half of society's ills...
                   but an old maid / spinster?
        
a drunk man can retain his stage of funny...
but a drunk woman of the same age
is just tragic.
"Going to be late for dinner. Rush Hour!"

Playing with the Platypus
pretending the Preying Mantis
made a makers mark
on the playing cards
secret Joker Deck.

Sitting on the sticky stick of stickers.

Sitting in the setting set by the table setters.

Sitting on the soft sofa sipping the sour soda.

Alliterating the alternate wording worth alliterating.
Timmy Shanti Oct 2018
Birds of a feather,
Not unlike me,
Love fine weather
(When it’s pouring tea).
Manners, wine and dining, too.
Mantis, llama, kangaroo.

Overmade, they do make over.
Things so brittle like the rover
Sent to Mars, the Milky Way,
Bounty, sneaky in its way.

Inbetwixt the words they utter,
They choose bread over the butter.
Frying French and grilling Jerry,
Jamming jars of juicy berry.

Duty-bound, they bound off duty.
Flock together! Fly, my beauties!
Plumes all owned. And not one borrowed.
Standing still amidst the horror…

Jokes aside, and folly ousted,
Peace preferred to putrid bloodshed,
They, like me, are hard to find…
Seems, at last, I’ve lost my mind!
took me a while in '18
Big Virge Jun 2018
Ya Know …..

They say … when you age …
That … you should … Stay …
….. " ACTIVE " …… !!!!! ……

Now … " Physically " …
That makes … sense to me …

But ….

NOT IF … " Mentally " …
Your Mind State's … "Captive" … !!!!!
"Reactive" … and … " Lacking " …
In Thoughts … " Attracting " …

A … " Balanced " … Life …
in … " Body and Mind " …

So …..
I KEEP … Mine …

" As in " … My Brain … !!!

" Active " … and inclined …
to ….. " elevATE " ….. !!!!!!!
and therefore … " Maintain " …
A … STRONG … Mind State … !!!!!

A Thing I … " Exhibit " …
In My … Wordplay … !!! …
Whenever … I Visit …
an … A4 Page … !!!!! …
and let … My Lyrics …
become an … " Array " …
of … Rhymes Exquisite … !!!!!
when they are … " Displayed " …

My Words become … " Active " …
whenever they're … " Acted " ...

Or Simply …. Heard ….
Via …. " Spoken Word " ….
From Me … " Big Virge " …

See …..
" Activation " … of …
… " Thought " … !!! …  
I Now …. " Explore " ….

As a way to …
KEEP …. " Active " ….
and NOT GET … " Bored " … !!!!!

As I said … Before …
I … DO NOT … Ignore … !!!
A NEED … to do … MORE …
Than Exercise … On Floors … !!!

I do that … TOO … !!!!!
But Don't … EVER ABUSE … !!!

" The Tool " …
That when … USED … !!!!!

" Activates " … Tissues …
NOT USED … by … " Fools " … ?!?

" Who " ….
DISMISS … thought … !!!
to IMPRESS … These ****** … !?!

" FLEXING " … Muscle … !!!
and … STRONG … Skin Tones …

So that they can … " Couple " …
" Activating " … Hormones … !!!!!

I'd rather be … "humble" …
Than … Activate … TUSSLES … !!!
That … DON'T BREED … Chuckles … !!!
when they … OPEN … " Dark Tunnels " …
where fellas use …. " KNUCKLES " ….

" Activating " …. TROUBLE …. !!!
because they got … " Rumbled " … !!!
when having … MORE THEN … " Cuddles " … !!!
with girls whose … " Main Trait " …
is to …. " ACTIVATE " ….
more than … Their … PROSTATE … !!!!!

See …. !!!
I … " Activate " … Levels …
"Deep Inside" … My Mental …

That Takes …..
Lead from … " The Pencils " … !!!
of … " ***** Lil' Devils " … !!!!!!!!!!!!

Therefore …
I Stay …. STRONG …. !!!!!
and … AVOID … " Problems " … !!!!!
That come from … " Loose Thongs " … !!!
and …. " Violent Wrongs " …. !!! ….

I'd Rather … Write Words … !!!
and …. " Poetic Verse " ….
That … Act like … " Prophylactics " ...
and give disease … " Collapses " … !!!!!

because … My Wordplay …
….. " Snatches " …… !!!
  
"Whips" … and gives out …
….. " Hangings " ….. !!!!!! …..

To Cats … " thinking " …
They … MASSIVE … ?!?
When … what they are is …
……. " TRAGIC " …… !!!!

TRAGIC ….. !!!
Little … "captives" …

Using … " Foolish " …
….. " Tactics " …..
That … put them on …
… " My Blacklist " … !!!!!!

of … Those Worthy …  of …
……. LASHES ….... !!!!!!!!!!

See Me ….
I Prey … like … MANTIS … !!!!!
or ... like man from … " Atlantis " … !!!!!!

I Pray …  
Upon … an … AXIS … !!!!!

" Symmetrical " …
and … " Balanced " … !!!!!!

Unable … to be ….
" Challenged " …. !!!!!!

by IGNORANCE …
That's … "Captive" … !!!
In minds now … LOST … !!!
and ……. SAVAGE ……. !!!!!!

Long After … I'm …
… " NONACTIVE " …

My words will …
Still Be … " ACTIVE " … !!!!!!

That's why I … Write …
and post … Online … !!!
So that … when I …
have … " Physically Died " …

These words I … Find …
Inside …. My Mind ….
WILL … " Stay Alive " … !!!

" IMMORTALIZED " …  !!!!!!
  
BEYOND …. My Life ….

That's where … My Pride …
"TRULY" …. Resides ….

In a place where …
… " Thoughts " …
CREATE … wordplay …
Beyond … The Wars …
We see … " Today " … !!!!!!

I Hope … One Day …
People …. Will Say …. ?!?

"That Big Virge Man,
played an active hand,
in the betterment of,
our race of, humans,
and left us seeds,
to activate dreams,
of finding peace,
and living for more
than, fights on streets,
and, vanity ! That Man,
for sure, wrote poetry,
that's active now,
He's no longer around !!!"

But …..
While i'm here ...
My Mind … " Adheres " …
to … " Activating Verse " … !!!
That … CLEARLY … " Hurts " … !!!

" Chickens and Jerks " … !!!!!!

whose form of … " Work " … ?!?

" Activates " … NONSENSE … !!!!!
Causing ….. PROBLEMS ….. !!!!!!!!!

I have …
An … " Active Body " …
and an … " Active Mind " … !!!

So ….
My work's …
Far From ……….  " Shoddy " ………. !!!!!!
because … It Feeds … " The Blind " …

with the kind of … "Insights" …
THAT DON'T …. Invite …. !!!!!!!!!!

IGNORANCE and PRIDE …
to be …. " Aligned " ….
with a …. " Positive Life " …

The words … I Rhyme …
"Activate" … like … STARS ...
Shine in …. " The Night " …. !!!!!
because … from … " The Dark " …
There … MUST COME … " Light " … !!!!!

So ….
As I approach ….
These … Last few … lines …

No Time to … " Reproach " … !!!
or …… " Criticize " ……. !!! …….

because … These Words
AREN'T … " Faddish " … !!!

and won't take …. ALL ….
Your ….. " Bandwidth " ….. !!!!!

I am a … " Wordsmith " …
Whose Pen … writes …
……. " Scripts " ……….
of … TRUE LYRICS … !!!!!
... " PROACTIVE " … !!!!!

These words are …
NOT … just … " Rantings " … !!!

They're … DRIVEN … and …
…….. EXPANSIVE …….. !!!!!!!!

and … PROVE … that …
Like My … " Writtens' "

When ……  
" Big Virge " … was here …

… " Living " …

My Brain, Body & Spirit

were … " Attached " …
to being …

….. " Active " …..
Not a bad idea to stay active, hence the poem ......
How revolting is the Praying Mantis,
a poised silence
suddenly seizing
the fly, chewing off the fly's eyes,
the fly still buzzing,
chewing with expressionless, beady eyes.
I'm glad I'm no creature
of the forest or bush,
glad about the resolve
to minimize violence
in me - violence
on different levels.
Yet who knows? I may be sauntering now
peacefully, drinking in the summer breeze,
harbouring noble thoughts
thanks, in part, to countless expressionless eyes,
thanks to countless killers
who keep further nastiness at bay,
or prevent more nastiness
from coming my way.
Oh how strange, sublime
may be creatures
with expressionless eyes
feasting on others and giving birth.
Could those expressionless eyes
also have a love for Mother Earth?
Ira Desmond Dec 2018
Last night,
I dreamt that the friend of a friend had died.

His body floated lifeless on the surface of the Pacific,
tossed about between the Bering Sea whitecaps

like an orca’s seal-pup plaything
while the Arctic wind whipped

and beat the freezing cold water
across his pallid face and through his chestnut hair.

Then his body
began to sink,

its silhouette appearing
against various monotone

canvases of blue
on its trip downward:

a vivid cornflower,
a pelagic cerulean,

a chasm of cold cobalt,
a starless twilight,

a forest of indigo,
a velvet curtain of navy.

Finally,
as it reached the deepest possible shade of midnight—

only a quantum away from black—
it stopped sinking.

There, in that void,
where daylight and color are considered but outlandish theories,

strange fish of all and shapes and sizes
began to surround the decomposing corpse:

Greenland sharks hailing from the frozen arctic,
mantis shrimp from the mangrove labyrinths,

eyeless electric eels from undersea caves near the Galápagos,
vampire squid rising cautiously up out of their World War One trenches,

scores of spindly ***** and pale worms that had ventured far beyond
the safe familiarity of their alien geothermal worlds.

At first, they approached the corpse gingerly,
nibbling only the tips of its hair and fingernails,

and then suddenly, voraciously,
they consumed it—until not even a skeleton remained.

Now, only a single point of light was left
there floating in the void.

And from this single point of light,
where just a moment before the corpse had floated,

a brilliant white lattice structure emerged,
unfurling as would a fern across a forest floor.

It fanned out onto the seabed
and then swept upward, upward

back toward those reaches of sea
where color is known

and fresh air gleefully permeates
that foamy outer membrane that skirts the base of the sky.

Scores of familiar fish began to lift up the crystalline structure—
schools of shimmering sardines,

stately, dignified manta rays,
skipjacks, bluefins, and white-tips,

brilliant cuttlefish, humble pufferfish,
shifty barracuda, gargantuan whale sharks,

all of them
beating their tails in concert

to carry this lattice away,
this measure of a life,

this husk of a soul
at last freed from its earthly bindings.

The fish were carrying it somewhere deeper,
somewhere darker,

to a place that I understood—
even from the inky depths

of my dreaming mind—
that I could not enter.

But then again,
I knew that someday

I would.
Onoma Mar 2019
--shall April be the cruelest month?

as that praying mantis poet Eliot proposed--

to begin with implosive foolery.

sagging rains that will shatter stained glass

windows, to reveal another station, of

another cross.

forgetting to joke about dead-seriousness.

the air will carry roses flustered by the

bloated piety of clouds,  soaking the earth

for worms to break surface.

stirred crazy into beaks that glut, then sing.

more than arthritic bones, the forever growing

pains of a scowling soul...ah April.
Haberdashery hauberk harbinger harangue equilibrist, harpy harsh hast severities.
Inane inert inertia innate, juxtaposition maenad ethos affinities.
Putrid quasi queasy pathos, emanate imminent perdition acerbities.

Agnate aggregate anathema android amalgamated, predication contract.
Glutton paradoxical dichotomy greaves, gauntlets gamut catalyst abstracts.
Ambidextrous amatory prelude amaze, analeptic adrenergic analgesia analytics extract.  Annex annul.  

Clairaudience clairvoyant omnipresence presage, omnipotent omnificent omniscience.
Pantheism parapet paradigm intuition, prognosticating prosthesis prediction.
Prolific profuseness profundity prosaic, nimbus nimiety nitty gritty, intrados rubato.

Venerable divinatory deity deify veneration, delineate demagoguery ecstasy, agonist agog.
Dream gleam cream seam beam team, serene ravine green gene careen, obscene demean.
Empiricise the existentialisms in the demagoguery of godhead aspiration.
Corporeal anaclitic apex inveterate embezzlement extroversion, acuity alacrity extortion.
Extraneous extemporaneous, ominous phenomena portrayal spontaneous synchronous, aorist actuator.

Endergonic protensive integration extrapolation interpolations investiture elicits.
Scenario synopsis synthesis syncopation, harmony rhymes rhythm.
Synchronous transition transposition interlude, summerial derivation cognition.
                                                      ­­­                                                               ­ ­ ­              
Irk-ness ire aerie altruism allegorical, autonomous avarice oscillating ostracism.
Pandemonium obdurate temerity impunity, impending preponderance onus, numinous illuminism quintessential frolic.
Amorous ardent argent arduous enamor endear, plenary putschist volatile phatic.
Conveyor controvert deft mesmeric deification deist dissertation.
Drastic premise portent pervasive embellish, elusive enhance enchant, engender enthrall.
Perpetuation euphenic euthenics, exude emote concoct recalcitrance regalia, irrefragable preternatural ne plus ultra prurient.
Vernaculars opulent myriad, aesthetic stratagem venial vexatious, astral projection conjuring levity apothegms.

Incite epistemological illuminism, accoutrements umbrage ultraism incognito trajectory extant.
Scandalous scavenger squalid anomalous punitive, heuristic manumission exigency.
Ostensible proclivity prodigious querulous, rambunctious repertoire rigmarole scenic schism sooth.
Ascribe arsenal crucial critical, abhorrent abstinence blatancy berserk, alacritous celerity brogue.
Ceremonial chicanery dynamism fealty, indefatigable incontrovertible ingenuity ingratiate inimical impugn.
Innovate integrity intricate invective convolution, licentious metaphor convection obeisance.
Splurge-ness spry sporadic sprawl, spurious staunch succinct stymie tacit, irate tirade treatise vehement escapade tedium.

Probity irascibly veracious audacity mendacity gumption.
Paphian peccavi preternatural proclivity gesticulation articulation prestidigitation.
Fantastication fantasia fabulist façade, glimmer glisten translucent refulgence.
Subliminally subjunctive nostalgic allusion analogies eidetic’s mnemonics.
Metaphysical mystique’s evolutionally metamorphic futurity fatidic.
Adroit agile nimble tactile acuity prescience capacity intrigue.
Unadulteratedly fornicatious fabrications, portentous ethereal etiquette.
Nose agnate somatology morphology metamorphic, cognition epistemology pragmatics.
Ontological ontogeny causality exigence integumence equivocal.
Innocuous noumenal verity ***** affectation intentions.

Adumbrate intimate obfuscate preterite rendition intimidate.
Logistical tactician spatiotemporal terrestrial equestrian telemetries, physicality’s terrene traverse tellurian terrain.
Vaunt-ness verve’s lucidly illusive, intrepid yare’s predilection predication.
Apriori a posteriori apostrophe shards shroud, innately inert inherency interstitial endemics.                  

Irk-ness ire Zen, graffiti mantra mantis, diminutive minutia iotas inductive interpolation asperities.
Hypercritically mitigating dialectics hypotaxis.
Vituperatively vociferous eerie strident irrefragable orotund  sonorous felicities.
Diacritical diction dharma apomixis.
Chutzpah panache spontaneous generation complicity, gambit alluvium aloof succor.

Demarcate mirador bartizan panorama, stalwart bastion bulwark tableau, dexterous gargoyle disguise gimmick camouflage.
Decipher coercible coalesce corrupt costume counselor chameleon charlatan chaperone entourage.
Cryptic evocative emulation scenarios siren skeptic, cynical demonic gremlin greaves curtilage.
Zesty zingy zippy zeal zenithal azimuth elaborate elliptical empathy endeavor entity entice.

Clambering clamorous clangor strategic systematic propagate prolific, wield wile treatise expose’.
Aural auspice austerity  axiom conscribe, perplex beleaguer beggary, coax cacophony clout, concatenate chronology.
Erumpent erudition evident evil evert, extol fervor flinty florid, fructify impromptu innuendo juncture.
Kinetic supremacy temporize tractive fluent, precious precess predetermined predatory predicament, gyro gyre.
Horizon hornswoggle huckster, hokey hoot ornery honkies.

Horologist hackamore relative rationality.
Decorum dastardly dazzle deceit, demolish demur, annihilate denigrate.
Armature arcade doughty, panacea parallax serendipity servant serenade.
Personification of sartorial perfection, picturesque visage of spectral grace.
Cosmic enigma rational relativity.

Housebreak huckster squabble brash, hovel huff.
Ghastly gruesome grotesque grisly groaty gnarly grotto grouch compunction.
Caustic cavernous celibate catatonic phonics, apex crux axis matrix cortex cephalic.
Blasphemous farcical fugue-ness and estranged ensemble orchestration acoustics.
Rendition: various assorted forms of related stranger weirdness.
Conjugation coercion junction function, adjunct conjunction conjecture.
Concoct deontology ontogeny, ontological enclitic osteopathy.
Anticipate angary amentia, tiercel theocracy.
Phrenic sensorium sentiment paragon tangible.
Covert aspersion avidity, coherent avid avarice, allegory allocate amatory prelude annex annul.

Tantamount telepathy tantalize talisman talesman, prerogative presumptive judicature.
Subpoena parameter perimeter peripherals prophylaxis protocol.
Real deal seal, sail bail, bailiff rake-ness rail.
Yoni yore yare, leeward lecher leer lingam, menagerie melee hyperbolic milieu thesis, métier quintessential fulham.
Dangle wrangle mangle jangle tangle angle.
Hysterically delirious zany nertsy bonkers bluster boggle.
Gyrate, austere askance obliquely, aspire assail askew.

Cosmic origins metamorphosis implosion contractions revision, blond entropy catalyst.
Cataclysm catastrophe holocaust trauma, inefficacy ineffable expiate.
Chaos cognizant conceive dialectic dictates in extremis extremity meld nuance.
Cryptic cipher circuit citadel clairvoyant sequitur.
Cajole fictitious fiery finesse, invoke fulmination gouts clout, curtilage endeavor iterative itinerary.
Ersatz fiat fulcrum fulgurous indemnify indigenous infernal infidel iniquitous.
Electroacoustics ciphony  Electra complex lore, occipital ubiquity synch.
Psychosomatic psychokinesis cybernetics, penumbral platitude platonic proxy photic.
Assimilate stigma perspicacious, astute asunder atman pulchritudinous.
        
Decadent arrogant pompously bombastic blatant flagrant chaparral.
Diabolically maniacal dementia brusque macabre abruptness.
Swarthy beastly antithetical anathema ******* belligerent, savvy irate berserk-ness tirade.
Ulterior aghast agitator incongruous dire, perdurable peremptory primacy arbitrate zealot.
Cantankerously sorcerous insidiously sinister alchemy cauldron, pernicious visceral pathogenic, virulence truculence.
Ideational hideously horrible horrendously heinous ghastly abysmal abjection.
Perpetuity pervade rampart ransack oblation erogenous scarp lambent actuarial arbitrage.
Exserted protuberant pseudopodia actuator, odious aorist militantly mercenary.

Wingspread wiry wiseacre wherewithal rapacity, implicit important juxtaposition.
Machismo equilibrist machinations, kinesiology kleptomaniac knell physique.
Ribaldry rigmarole rhubarb, risqué rive rollick.
Demeanor kamikaze kerf, megalomania misanthropies modus operandi genocidal xenophobic.
Heredity heritage heresy legacy, pseudonym multifarious nefarious nemesis.
Sepulcher stratagem pantheism parapet paradigm, psychosis neophyte, paragon proselyte.
Pilferous wheedling finagler, plunderous pillaging usurper, longevous loquacity lottery.
Rhapsody rhetoric rote raconteur newfangled nocturnal nonchalant sycophant.
Morose morsel moribund, lurid luscious lyricism lucidity lucrative.
Creative cleaver crafty cunning furtive sneaky stealthy connive.
Aphorism euphemism hegira to xanadu carousing marauder syllogism.
Swell surge flow flux craw crux, virago monad chaos character charisma.
Heuristic cavalier humeral, meager demonstrative anarchy iconoclasm, apropos ergo ipso-facto.
Plenary plenipotentiary omniscience presage, omnipotent directive ubiquity emanations.
Nous agnate ontological ontogeny, exegesis peroration.
Abeyance, exotically ****** quixotic ecstatically emphatic fanatic.
Orchestration rendition unicorn railway mainsail, awry askew askance.

Canny cogent fecund erudite sagacious sequacious conjuring mentality introjection conjugation coercions.
Avant-garde temporal abstract, scenario synopsis eclectic synectics.
Synaptic syntax syndrome aspersion, quagmire quandary poshly plush.
Physicality ***** pictorial, picturesque glyph, debauchery deviant profane ***** vicarious assertion exorbitance.
Mystical silhouette sojourn consortium sabbat conclave liaison, soiree tryst rendezvous symposium excursion compendium.
Incarnate cephalic phantasmagoria proximity parameter phantasm epitomize transitive transcendental syntactic semantics.
Resplendent radiant ephemeral effulgence translucent incandescent luster effluence, reflectively refractive azure opulence effusion.
Contentious pretentiously extravagant eccentric intransigent pedantic antics.
Guidon guile homogenous hovering imagination immaturity, exogamy incorporeity ideologies.
Pique poignant piquant puissant quiescence, obstreperously abstruse vagary plausibility’s cause.
Vivid intangible impetus instinct intrigue, livid lurid allusion.
Autonomous preterite discrepancy amendment emendations, transcendent accession ascensional in absentia expurgation exculpation.
I know this is getting redundant but I feel this is the best I ever wrote!!
Zoomorphic zoolatry's demagoguery to élan-vital.  Ethology's entelechy to social contiguity apotheosis' ****** matrix.  Vicarious recalcitrance!!!
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2019
.i used to love women, i dated girls that resembled pornographic movie actresses... i used to love women... i once performed oral *** that resembled an oyster: "missing" salt & juices... once in a bath-tub on her period with a ******... 30 times in the face of a mirror within the framework of green "ivory"... 2 months of a relationship to dictate 20 years of my life... ****! much sooner to make charity of a dog's worth of a clarity of a leash... i still love women... whenever i visit my grandparents, i sit with her (my grandmother), solving crossword puzzles between 9am and 10am drinking coffee and smoking a cigarette or two... dozen or so prostitutes... does it matter?! i didn't bask in doing a glory-hole **** fest off a whim in: yes, that added "extra" F... who knew, who saw... who sowed.

and to explore the loss of reins
of a female sexuality:

i, chimp,
denigrated status
emblem,
am...

           less a chimp
in the eyes of a man,
than a man in the eyes
of a chimp,
in the eyes of: if man...

to the rights of a woman's
body: i too would have
chosen an alternative
in the "sexed up":
     handkerchief...

of a: glutton fizzed
'em up by the squirt's load of:
the materialism of
the inversion of *****:

i, man, ***** =
flush down the toilet...

i, woman, ovaries =
and the ***** that
touches them,
as much as a sneeze!

pregnant!

            mantis mama...
as man searched for much
longer in the cranium
of some: random ape...
what did woman do?
alienate the concensus
of:
          she didn't look
into the mammalian
aspect
to coincide with a motherhood...

female eroticism?
insect... reptile...

sorry...

             i am much too
a simple man to ask
for too a simple woman...
i didn't elaborate
on whether
   there was a "whether"
to exodus with
to focus on an in situ...

given:
was there any in situ
to begin with
that wasn't a Pandora's
variety of per se?

throw me a punch,
shove me into a stinking
sewer...
this is the least of
the most that i am grieving
in allowing to be:
substitute for...

                a magician's trick
of supposing a fakery
of gravity in the variety
of levitation...

i cuddle a cat to
sleep and think:
   this could,
and never will be...
a woman.
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2019
while listening to foster the people's
song sit next to me -
i just remember cuddling
her,
while she began shivering
in a bean bag chair,
"forgetting"
to snort some *******...
while i stayed with
her, cuddling her,
until morning came...
and when morning came,
we broke up...
   but i still remember her,
semi-conscious,
shivering,
    shivering,
as listening to
the cure's album
pornoraphy on amphetamines...
notably the song:
A SHORT TIME EFFECT.
i can still feel her shivering,
and me cuddling her silent
into a ***** of a worth
of a heart entombed in
the base of a sparrow
experiencing a cage...
for the first,
but not the last time.
itches, and etching of ghosts...
or at least...
   that's what begins
to look like a story...
   of the said over-population
of the sane...
no...
   everyone is primarily
disorientated...
         faking certainty...
faking base striptease
of nonetheless keeping private
     opinions...
i can still remember
her shaking in my arms,
as i stayed sober,
she stayed
incubated
by a constant trance
of being petrified...
      i rarely held such
sobering artefacts
of fear in my arms,
cuddling them,
         forehead,
eyebrows,
tip of the nose,
   eye-lids,
lips,
   cheeks,
an entire array of
the scalpel lips taken
to make a dissection
of the complete face...
   her cold...
                 shivering ecstatic,
spasms of an octopus...
shy clinging,
   the last of the ronin,
a girl,
           figured to play herself
as a scattering
hole in the arranged
          sigma of a violin.
the girl was shaking,
as if,
  she experienced
strobe-light epilepsy,
   given that: her eyes were already
closed,
and her body, was,
cuddling a foetal position;
i just happened to be
mammal,
and of a larger frame...
to what could have been
her mantis fetish,
her microscopic
insect superiority complex
of the femme;
   what a crumbling
reference of a woman,
tender,
like raw dough...
   perfect hybrid
of a "hide & seek"game...
feline interpretation
of a snook object
  of snout meet hand...
   a shy cat:
nudging its un-petted
head into a cusp of a hand;
or... what will always be
the revision
of reading Braille...
when it comes to playing
puppets with genitals,
not having employed
             either tongues.
Yenson Aug 2019
Ben, Ben! the voice cried out...
I looked back to the source of the sound
along came running a very very skinny man
now alongside the face looked familiar yet still unknown
Ben! it me, its me Eric...its me
It dawned, then it puzzled, then it alarmed, then it made me laugh
wow, hey! Eric old bean, where have you been hiding, whats de show
the last time I saw you at the Student Bar, you were talking blonds
now look at you, looking like a praying mantis on a diet of water
you just disappeared, thought you left college, I couldn't find you
yeah! Eric said, his face falling and hollowed eyes searched mine
Ben, he said in lowered tones
Man, I've had quite a rough time of late,  been out of College, man!
yea, I know that, silly, I just said so, dumdum!
he smile a thin smile on a thin face in a thin kinda way
Ben!
Yessss
Well, remember that blond gal I was raving about to you, that night
yea, the last time I saw you, you were sited with Phoebe
both of you playing tongue Tennis, she was really hung on you
yes, said I, but back to you, I said, still not believing what I'm seeing
Well, I went home with the blond gal, that evening
Yessss, said I again
well things got exciting
OOhh....said I with a smile, naturally, I expect, I added
The thing is, he stammered as I raised an eye brow
the thing is, I spent a long time eating her!
you did what? I inquired, like I didn't hear first time
You know, says Eric with a sly look, I ate her
Ok, Ok, says I, I get the picture, I've done likewise myself
we both laughed, the way errant young men do
So, continued Eric, the next day I couldn't eat a thing
what do you mean, says I. You didn't eat the poor gal, I hope
God, are you a cannibal now, where is she, I said in mock horror
No, I didn't eat her like that, I just ate her, you know
Anyway, all next day and days and days after I couldn't keep food down
went to the hospital, they said its some endo-something bug
I've taken all kinds of tablets and potions, still I can't keep food in
my tummy  screams and hurt, my insides fight them-selves
I suffer all the time, I think I'm gonna die
I didn't know if to laugh or cry or do both
Oh Christ Eric, is these all true, you sure its not cancer you've got
No, they said its not cancer and they've done lots of tests.
Where is the blond gal, I asked, as if that would help anything
I haven't been to College, I don't know
Oh man, I'm sorry to hear all this, so sorry for what's happening
listen, lets meet up later, we'll talk more, take it easy old chap
where are you going now, Eric asked
I looked at scarecrow Eric, I did not smile
" I'm going to cancel a date with a blond I'd made for tonight"
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.
i'm not                                           a deer hunter;

but i'd love to
ascribe from Cyrillic
to this;
nonetheless;

if one were to boast...
but one never gratifies
boasting...
the rare chance
of being a deer-runner...

because the stag is in concrete...
road-****...
and one only has but one
chance of playing
santa... being the deer-runner...

which not one will actually believe
as one being...

but at least the pronoun debacle
is allowed... a royal
presence of excuses with:
one should...
we also think so...

it was always under the crown's
decree to give this grief some time
to air... before... it was folded
like a poker bluff...
before the altar of:
pronoun exhibit (a): one...
pronoun exhibit (b): we...

we should hope of one's
happiness to be exacted without
the worry for either pauper I
or a they that throng...
prior to the stress that's: we...
that's prior to I...
in that we refer to I as in no way...
allowing a res extensa
of a: they...

i am liberally... classical...
this is english, after all...
i must decline to use these modern...
trangender, canadian, pronoun,
compelled speech derivtives...
pseudo-soviet satellites of grammar...
of the royal pronouns we must
discuss... "proper" or any usage...
for that matter...

the crown hovers above the head
the head that can be decapitated but
still waggle a tongue...
the royal not the transgender pronouns...
rex civilis...
one should hope so...
that we might state the following...
a pronoun! without any faking
a *******, entourage!

classy peoples of this worls and typo Ds
(missing) and...
i only heard the term vegan once...
i subsequently heard:
no eggs... no cheese...

i then heard... *******!
what's breakfast with no cheese...
no eggs?!
how about...
vegan = haemophilia anemic?!
ok booker = soy boy bonanza...
how's that?
what about the steak tartar,
ms. rude carrot root *** whiff
of a ******?

i could be saved...
and how i wish to work
in a slaughterhouse...
it would cure me of...
curating to the alpha-male
museum of sounds via
the ash-tray array
of ****** sound-bitten-bites...
compensating for...
i too wonder...

there's all this music...
but to replenish this diet...
there's that crude onomatopoeia of...
vowels that attempt
to attain consonant status
when a woman *******...
but never does: attain the consonant
status of her vowel elevated pressure
breaths...

because it's the big O...
and no big sigh
that invites the better half
of the vowel-catcher
that's the tetragrammaton in...

i need to know whether
this is venom-bitten
with bitterness...
or whether it's still:
cheap slap-stick comedy -
en route the common ritual of...
a cameo audience being responsive...
a very cult-esque response...
a delmore schwartz escapade via
that hill billy of the velvet underground...
demure of a consitent craving
for preserving a self-deprecating...
not always allowed...

esp. not in europe where...
these days... everyone tells a joke
like a german...
but also has to hear it like an englishman....
a bad,
a very bad... ******* combination...
and yes...
****- and -ing is to be treated
as a grammatical conjunction...
equivalent to AND...

it's not to be given iconoclast status
for the bow and bread
of the dyslexia stranded
when "bigger" words appear...
and they have this...
niqab of a word ****
appear akin to an email
password's worth
of ••••

you're not saving the planet...
if a chimpanzee was able
to juggle oranges a priori...
then a chimpanzee will be
able to juggle oranges
a posteriori...
and if the elephant snorting and whatever
an elephant is able to do with its trunk,
brings it to a closer
relation to a miles davis trumpet?
then an elephant did and will do so!

problem being: the better part of this
hypothetical conversation i could only
have with myself...
since no woman could ever be as
impractical as to have it...
without an ulterior motive...

if it doesn't exist within the kantian
quarantine of the noumenon
(res per se)...
if it doesn't exist within a viral status
of the:
phenomenon -
if it's not phenomenological -
non replica inductive / industrial
in replication?
ha! and there i was... being fed...
the romance novelty of a stendhal!

ask a man to wage a war...
he will...
but he will never wage one...
from the perspective of hiding the notion
that he might fake being
a mantis or a black widow arachnophobia
prior!
why pray on being so sly
and slighted?
why not wait... breed a bonsai tiger...
and then play a game of tripping him up...
when waging war on...
that is not my woman...
and i actually romanced her -
but then... her petting strategy...
unless it was a Nefertiti -

buckle up... here comes a levelling...
a mr. smith is about to marry a ms. jones...
oh no... there's no née to mrs. jones...
mr. smith married a ms. jones...
benevolent coincidence...
i'm still for dogs and bonsai tigers...
i still imagine a heaven as...
72 rottweilers that i can clash teeth with
and bite and wrestle with...
where this islamic solomon complex comes
from with the 72 virgins...
it's hardly going to matter...

thank god... she was into...
spiders... and snakes...
i was more into... well she was scared of heights...
and graveyards... and i was like: yes! go!
me first!
feeding mosquitos to the bonsai...
and gutting a rainbow trout
giving them the eyes to "pleb" on...

she's still a fond memory of a girlfriend...
i was so close to being branded by her
with a tattoo and some "cultural appropriation"
about to don some caribb dreads...
she is a fond memory...
simply because she was a great ****...
and maybe because
she somehow introduced me to in extremo
and... bulgakov...

maybe... and as all great ***** go...
it's hard to forget them...
even if you're aiming at solo or even...
happily married...
the best **** and... what was it...
cognac with a slice of lemon was an imitation
of... the drawing rooms of Peterhof?

even a street-sweeper remembers
the best **** he ever had...
which involved a trip to the U.S.A....
a hotel room, some LSD and enough time
to watch one sun and two moons
pass for a measure of a day...

once this once happens...
the rest remains to be relegated for
a cameo fodder...
no war, no bastion...
no troops no cannons...
cameo fodder...
up to and including the zenith
of life... bound to the teenager years
culminating at age 21...
and then the descent...
into the everyday grey shade of
a pulp song about...
lost? lost what?
oh... the once upon time magic
everyone is about to... amnesia place -
as somehow to be... "recovered"?!
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2019
.you can never really write any poetry by not covering the "heartbreak" the loss of your own "printed" words: how much different is the internet, from "real" life? just asking... since: internet banking & internet shopping... to lose a poem / pre-scriptum is not exactly the same as losing a person to mind: father's day... i cooked the dinner, i took out the trash, i wrote an invoice... i guess that's much better than leaving a card of greetings... and, come to think of it? why are we the sort of people subjugated to nostalgia, with but also "without" a history? aren't we subjugated to nostalgia and a history as a "fiction"? the beginning of the 21st century, the end of the 20th century... the 19th century germans associated themselves with a nostalgia for ancient greece, we're the only people who have an inbuilt nostalgia "safety-mechanism"... the only people in time who are nostalgic about the life surrounding their own existence slot, which doesn't have a trans-temporal dynamic... i remember times when we would be teenagers... spitting on people from car-parks on imaginary tonsures, buying *****-magazines from indian cornershops, or belgian freebies of non-insinuations, white lightning cider while sleeping over at youth centers playing snooker throughout the night... even at school: attending a catholic school with the irish east enders... uniforms, sure... a chequered shirt: blue, red, white... tag? made in canada... and if only capitalism worked as it once did, made in canada? lifetime of a shirt? 20 years... now? made in china... not exactly real cotton, is it? 2 years... before ironing the shirt *****... once upon in gants hill, st. valentine's park, and the pub, recently closed, decent karaoke... in the park? golf, basketball, rowing boats in the large ponds... when the jews were there... gants hill roundabout... the hanukkah torches... jews scuttling wearing trainers come rosh hashanah: jews can't wear leather on rosh hashanah (judgement day)... shy like rats... when the jews were there (gants hill, ilford)... the park looked great... tennis courts... now, when neo-Bangladesh moved in? ****** place. what else do i remember from my original pre-scriptum that i lost? oh, that once time in gants hill... walking into a kosher bakery with ****** knuckles, having tested them on a canvas of a brick wall, buying some dough-fused-sweets? with the girl selling the sweets bewildered by fear? i like the look of fear in people when tested by uncertainty, and bleeding knuckles? later? climbing over the park fence, taking a **** while squatting in the darkened palace of the park, walking into a brothel, having my wallet stolen, not reacting in what would have been justified... high school... we wore uniforms... so no high school h'american culture trap / culture... school uniforms are the best idea, there's no chance to "shine" in telling apart the rich kids from the poor kids... there's only the standard... walking to a supermarket, past a thai surprise... sports bra, short hair... walking back... she's still there pretending to talk on her mobile to someone... you take her home with a few beers... play her some jazz... take her into the garden, the moon is a beauty... you **** her... hand in her underwear and you're still gambling... before the emergence of the nag hammadi library and the whole androgynous vogue, the thai were already readied with the lady-boys... when i reached in and found nothing but oyster... would i have stopped finding a wink-wink slouching worm? slap a trans in the face? no, not really... a thai surprise is, a thai surprise... i would have considered doing my first ****... "lucky" for me she was a she... a girl... ****** her in the garden under the moonlight... gave her my hoodie, which she drowned in... finally... the level of interaction where the female is not a mantis, i.e. a female larger than the male... she drowned into my hoodie as i walked her home... i like the familiarity with the mammalian, not resorting to insect superiority of females... these days... i find that males are strictly mammalian... while females? they are borrowing insect-esque ontologies... well, darwinism allowed the time-frame... males are mammals... females are insects, behaviour-wise... two time frame i do not appreciate the english for... darwinism is prime.... cultural-marxism my ***... what about cultural-darwinism?! no?! that doesn't exist?! cultural-darwinism is as real as cultural-marxism, and, in the former sense? it really does belong to the conservative right-wing politico spectrum! might i add? isn't psychology merely pop philosophy? i find psychology riddled with rubric cohesion, it's all oh so "self"-evident! i abhor psychologists... these gypsy philosophers... medicine-men with no pharmacological shadow of power... to prescribe drugs... arguments, persuasions, but no dialectics... psychology will forever be, for me, a philosophy primer, short-cut... pop philosophy... psychologists can treat people who have never read a philosophy book... r. d. laing... i remember this one instace... me and a fwend of mine travelled into central london, went into a bookshop shy of trafalgar sq., i spotted an edition of: the scarlet and the black by stendhal... i told him: i will trade you linkin park's debut album, if you buy me this... the transaction was made... the one book i read after seeing a film adaptation starring rachel (rakhel) weisz and ewan mcgregor... ra-kh-el: not ray-chel... we used to be humans once... at high school getting bullied back... putting pins on chairs once we got up, sitting on them... playing bulldog in primary school, slap-ball, tag, playing cards at lunchtime... 16 fatty boy... one summer in poland, comes back aged 17... the irish girls take an interest while eating a pomegranate... what was the success of your diet? don't go to the gym... excess skin, an aesthetic surgeon is not what you need... there are only two ways to lose weight... either via swimming or by cycling... cycling is the best... lose weight by also toning your body... gym is a bad idea... by going to the gym you are straining exclusive parts of your body, either the torso, your hands, etc., jogging? unless on soft ground, bad idea on concrete, arthritis... cycling or swimming... lose weight... tone at the same time, the skin is allowed the required time to adapt to shrink, and forget what propped it up in plump form with all that excess flab... ugh... i hated being attractive to the opposite ***, i never used it to my advantage! imagine... an irish lad comes up to me, on behalf of some girl while i'm donning a french braid: you look just like johnny depp in blow, impersonating george jung... 14 year old girls walk up to you asking what shampoo you're using... herbal essences... i never used my looks... *******... now i'm a heavy drinker... so much for looks... first girlfriend? a fwend had to call me telling me she called him that she felt butterflies when i dropped her at the train platform after a day's worth of dating: tate modern, edward hopper exhibitions, cinema: troy, starring rose byrne (briseis) - honestly, a man can go crazy over curly hair... and then a restaurant date... that **** just flew over my head... i wouldn't have noticed... honestly though... i missed the whole h'american cultural excavation genesis in high school... catholic... uniforms... jesuit army-esque formation... now, i'm ageing... i'm starting to find the company of cats to be: clingy... my shadow included... i once thought that dogs were needy... i'm starting to think that cats are worse, esp. the maine **** breed... "lonely" or "loneliness" doesn't really resonate with me, esp. when thinking something "feels" like a variation of claustrophobia: hence i write... without a dialectic in place, ever since plato wrote his dialogues... what is philosophy, primarily? isn't it an off-shoot of "claustrophobia"? we write because we are seeking escape from congested thinking, a variation of "claustrophobia"... now imagine a schizoid character... having to focus on an imaginary dialectic, actually... having dialectics enforced on him, with no clarifying exodus to posit a gensis with! now, a clingy dog i could understand, given the overpowering status of the leash... but a clingy cat, when there's no leash involved?! shoom! right over my head... gone, somewhere into the distance!

what, this is the part...
were i cite...
   the weimar ******
critical condition...
       a daft punk troop
of a song,
  end of line....
blow-up a hot air balloon...
worth of blaire whire...
play the tambourine
like a ******* video...
there are,
quiet, simply,
no nazis coming...
fashionista faux pas
examples...
i'm alive,
but i'm dead,
i just forget to don
a strap-on...
  "oops"?
   that **** go down well
with
the "in"-crowd...
usual... metropolitan...
verbiage surge of answers....
   many a fetish after...
we arrive at the sensible
aspect,
"toxic masculinity"...
when guns n roses wasn't,
and nirvana was just plain
gay...
              and then...
whatever that happened,
happened..
                 and people were like:
come to the "new" tomorrow,
there's always a yesterday,
in a dream,
in some phil collins
wannabe
studio...
or... some other random ****
that
excluded peter gabriel.

                 i died:
and just about right:
my harvest had come.

great book reviews...
"toxic masculinity"...
so all masculinity is
about a clockwork orange?
   if it is?
can i be pro abortion
anti mongolian horde?
yes? no?
  which is it?!
neither...
   **** me... that's just bad
luck...

                               sundbeds,
sunflowers,
tulips,
sunglasses,
    plenty of staged
eager nights...
boring political affairs...
and...
         when gaming was
more about the narrative...
and never,
ever, about the microtransactions...

point being...
it's a game within a game...
time, is the prime concern...
you play a game,
by waiting...
you wait: by playing a game...

  microtransactions
are...
you ever move a sim3 avatar
to a computer,
and make it play a computer game?
what's on the macrocosmos spectrum?
you....

               "back in the day"...
you'd spend a saturday morning
engrossed in a gaming narrative...
metal gear solid,
tenchu, final fantasy solid...
20 quid...
and you played the narrative...
and a game became equivalent
to the worth of a book,
resident evil,

            you paid for a month's worth
of gaming,
you exchanged tips,
you sometimes bought a cheat book
because of the homework,
and that was your saturday morning
before hitting the shopping mall
or, whatever...

the current dynamic of
microtransactions in gaming?
i never, ever, do...
i'm an old gamer type...
i see the potential of extending
the life-expectancy
of a game...

   as long as you don't buy into
the microtransactions gambling habit?
as long as you play the "game"
within the game?
the game is an assured classic,
akin to chess...

              you have to play
the waiting "game"...
             time...
                           that's all it is...
whether war robots,
    or dawn of titans...
        comparison...
  you know that the best fruit,
is fruit, allocated
to the geography of it being sourced
seasonally...
you can't actually get better
strawberries,
than english strawberries...
from england, come june / july...
no ******* point sourcing them
from spain in late march / april....

    same thing with gaming...
the modern games haven't made any
elaboration...
apart from dislodging the player
from the concept of narrative...
**** me... that's almost an improvement...
given that now: time is the counter
measure, and the gamer...
   is having to invest,
in a narrative, outside of the confines
of the game,
once upon a time,
games had time-narrative
constraints...
     now: there's time,
and there are gamer narratives,
excluding them from time-narratives,
of a game...
         it's almost a faux pas...
more like a wet-*****...
****** pinky lodged into an ear,
an april fools' day scant...

        if you hacked passed
the microtransactions hype...
and didn't?
and instead took to patience?
it's free...
   where once,
a game would cost you 20 quid,
and a month's worth
of narrative,
back then, when games
resembled books,
when the gaming industry
was heavily influenced
by literature...
and now?
   the game's free...
sure...
it's "unfair", it's biased...
when you don't engage
in imported gambling
of succumbing to what, this is the part...
were i cite...
   the weimar ******
critical condition...
       a daft punk troop
of a song,
  end of line....
blow-up a hot air balloon...
worth of blaire whire...
play the tambourine
like a ******* video...
there are,
quiet, simply,
no nazis coming...
fashionista faux pas
examples...
i'm alive,
but i'm dead,
i just forget to don
a strap-on...
  "oops"?
   that **** go down well
with
the "in"-crowd...
usual... metropolitan...
verbiage surge of answers....
   many a fetish after...
we arrive at the sensible
aspect,
"toxic masculinity"...
when guns n roses wasn't,
and nirvana was just plain
gay...
              and then...
whatever that happened,
happened..
                 and people were like:
come to the "new" tomorrow,
there's always a yesterday,
in a dream,
in some phil collins
wannabe
studio...
or... some other random ****
that
excluded peter gabriel.

                 i died:
and just about right:
my harvest had come.

great book reviews...
"toxic masculinity"...
so all masculinity is
about a clockwork orange?
   if it is?
can i be pro abortion
anti mongolian horde?
yes? no?
  which is it?!
neither...
   **** me... that's just bad
luck...

                               sundbeds,
sunflowers,
tulips,
sunglasses,
    plenty of staged
eager nights...
boring political affairs...
and...
         when gaming was
more about the narrative...
and never,
ever, about the microtransactions...

point being...
it's a game within a game...
time, is the prime concern...
you play a game,
by waiting...
you wait: by playing a game...

  microtransactions
are...
you ever move a sim3 avatar
to a computer,
and make it play a computer game?
what's on the macrocosmos spectrum?
you....

               "back in the day"...
you'd spend a saturday morning
engrossed in a gaming narrative...
metal gear solid,
tenchu, final fantasy solid...
20 quid...
and you played the narrative...
and a game became equivalent
to the worth of a book,
resident evil,

            you paid for a month's worth
of gaming,
you exchanged tips,
you sometimes bought a cheat book
because of the homework,
and that was your saturday morning
before hitting the shopping mall
or, whatever...

the current dynamic of
microtransactions in gaming?
i never, ever, do...
i'm an old gamer type...
i see the potential of extending
the life-expectancy
of a game...

   as long as you don't buy into
the microtransactions gambling habit?
as long as you play the "game"
within the game?
the game is an assured classic,
akin to chess...

              you have to play
the waiting "game"...
             time...
                           that's all it is...
whether war robots,
    or dawn of titans...
        comparison...
  you know that the best fruit,
is fruit, allocated
to the geography of it being sourced
seasonally...
you can't actually get better
strawberries,
than english strawberries...
from england, come june / july...
no ******* point sourcing them
from spain in late march / april....

    same thing with gaming...
the modern games haven't made any
elaboration...
apart from dislodging the player
from the concept of narrative...
**** me... that's almost an improvement...
given that now: time is the counter
measure, and the gamer...
   is having to invest,
in a narrative, outside of the confines
of the game,
once upon a time,
games had time-narrative
constraints...
     now: there's time,
and there are gamer narratives,
excluding them from time-narratives,
of a game...
         it's almost a faux pas...
more like a wet-*****...
****** pinky lodged into an ear,
an april fools' day scant...

        if you hacked passed
the microtransactions...
       and didn't have the chance...
microtransactions are like
the old school cheat hacks...
but not quiet, but somehow quasi-,
       a modern microtransactions,
would be a cheat magazine
thorough-through
a game like final fantasy VII...
you have homework,
but you still want to complete the game...
modern games...
modern games...
there's an "end gole"?
  what modern game is worth
"completing"?
    
   again: tron, ready player one,
back to the future...
star wars just became dead
to me...
   sick people will plague hard-working
people, with a quasi-gambling
addiction,
needing to make microtransactions...
and they will,
my father was plagued by
an impostor, claiming to be a
tax office official:
and what if, that person had
an authentic position at the tax office?!

when gaming was for gamers,
the games were bought...
there was a narrative...
but now... now games don't have a narrative...
why would they?!
   who the hell plays games for
the narrative these days?
i know that on the crapper,
i need a game that allows me
to experience live-stream
interaction with non-bots...

       and these old gamers,
who still invest their money
in literature-esque-games?
so i was the sad one,
investing in vinyl?
   aren't the classic ******* gamers
just as bad,
investing in prepackaged
narrative gaming
experiences?
             a game with a narrative...
yeah... me buying vinyl
is: b'ah b'ah bad...
       what sort of game is alive and well...
when there isn't a crowd pushback
for the currency of microtransaction?

the narrative is time,
   the longer you endure the inadequacy...
the more you realise:
you're basically playing
the same game,
but in your scenario:
it's free...
   in some other ******'s scenario:
it cost him 70 hundred quid...

personally?
   i love this microtransaction dynamic...
concerning the people who
do not engage with it...
it's the perfect antithesis
   of what ruined the music industry
with genesis: napster...

you really are, playing the ultimate
game,
time...
         the one sort of commodity
that games,
without a clear narrative construct,
"forgot" to mention in terms
of them being exploited...
to their full capacity
of the one "commodity"
they "forgot", or rather,
couldn't "sell"...

              a tenchu PS1 game could
have lasted me a month...
now? a free game,
like war robots...
with absolutely no NPC?
hell... i'll be 90 and still be playing it;

what else? applause!
Mark Toney Oct 2019
focused praying mantis still as a stick
clueless prey three times its size
best friend of gardeners
10/13/2019 - Poetry form: Kimo - An Israeli form of haiku that has three lines with a 10-7-6 syllable format and which does not rhyme. Also, the Kimo is focused on a single frozen image (kind of like a snapshot). So it's uncommon to have any movement happening in kimo poems. - Copyright © Mark Toney | Year Posted 2019
Olivia Jun 2019
i left a poem here for you
because i hoped you’d notice.

i left a poem here for you
because i care.

i left a poem here for you
because when i see you it is like you
are the only color
in a world of black and white.

i left a poem here for you
because our love is like a river
there are rocks and bends and sharp edges
and it is so beautiful and ever-flowing.

i left a poem here for you
because your body is a planet
and in a constellation of celestial beings
yours shines the most brightly.

i left a poem here for you
because your curves are like infinity
your smile defies gravity
your hips are the waves of the sea.

i left a poem here for you
because when the next praying mantis
wants to know who exactly he just met
he can understand he met the sun.

i left a poem here for you
because if another gray cloud passes by
it can drift apart
in the light of your day.

i left a poem here for you
because i have no other proof
here i am in words
the truest way i can give myself to you.

i left a poem here for you
because you will always be
a bright-eyed, brown-haired

sunshine girl

butterfly girl

star girl

the kind they write stories about.

so i left a poem here for you.
I have definitely heard the “only color in a world of black and white” before, but I love it so much that I had to use it. Plus, it’s true.

— The End —