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RF Aug 2013
When I have the dream
that I am pulling him
from the castle, by such
crude force, and I dream that
Otto, my dawn compatriot,
has him by the collar
face down
I feel myself out of that
assumed body, still present in
the scene – and each time
I recourse to the knowledge
that the lake has a great depth,
an unknown depth at its deepest point
So when the ripples are subsiding
When Otto stands in that detumescent
pose, I look very simply and solemnly
at the water, and my outside self
just above
is revelling in recourse to
the lake's unknown depth.
The beast I am
cannot know the serenity in that great depth

With that in mind
I long to plunge him, to
plunge my surrogate frame into
that beautiful water
among the weeds, the trout and
the body
And dive
in nervous equanimity
to that depth
to know that fact
and to hold my arm out
through the deep
as a line to the surface

but I am conscious of
the approaching light
so we leave, Otto and I,
the morning sun warming
us, releasing the dew;
I know I will return
to the cold room
to erase all the lines;
spent
after the relentless
****** of a man many citizens
of my nation
suppose to be perfectly innocent

In another vision
I emerge onto the lakescene
in a slender junk
my white drapery
and my precious oaring
does much to disturb
the Guineverean twilight;
close to the bank
where the fog has receded
there are orbs
I am younger
than I have been
for some time now
and just as each movement
that I am making
in my elegant junk
strikes me as being unique
I am faced with his image
over again
in the same humour
the likeness
over again
they could not find the body
in the deep lake

I can make a confession
that I am alone on this trip
confident, though
quite old
with my husband long departed
this is a confessional piece
about when we went to the lake
and I swam
and he was watching
and we were quite young
and I thought I might marry him
and I did
and after the drying off
and the drink of water
he was telling me about Ludwig, looking out over the Starnbergersee
with his mournful eyes
I cannot say if I loved him now
I cannot say if 'summer surprised us' as the poem said
he liked the poem
his mother was named Marie
and our house had a wonderful garden
so that poem was evocative, I suppose
you could read it that way
I didnt open my body again

I often wonder if the silence
owes something to my
nightly ritual
my method of calm:
I lie very still in the dark
burrowed into the sheets
and I imagine each being
reposing in the uniform rooms
the light outside almost without colour
within, it is only I,
repeated throughout each room
and each room's little boxed being, I am
luming over the bodies
to extinguish any little vestiges
in those cognisant minds –
the memories falling;
dim petals around me
every time my hand
on a bright body
the sssssss sound
that leads to the inevitable blossom
that is falling around me
jerely May 2013
With

Just

One

Blink


I was mesmerize

By your 


D A Z Z L I N G

attractive,

Wicked,

Precious

Brown


E
  Y
    E
   S
Madness Jul 2014
Alles, was bleibt, ist ein Riss, genau in der Mitte des Seins.

Lass mich nicht die sein, die an allen Standpunkten
teilhaben muss, nicht die, die mit Stift und Worten
Angst zu bekämpfen vermag, nicht die, die sich im-
mer brav rechts auf den Weg hält, die, deren Blick
immer Fremdens Füße begutachten, nicht die, die
sich ohne eine Tasse Koffein wachhalten versucht,
die, die überhaupt nur zu den traurigen Songs tanzt,
die, deren Herz sich nur schwer erwärmen lässt,
die, mit den melancholischen Augen den Raum er-
misst

Someone taught me to be me -
Es sind die Kämpfe mit meinem Selbst,
die sich in meine Haut gebrannt haben,
die Angst vor höheren Mächten, die
meine Augenringe abzeichnen,
es ist das große Vielleicht von dir,
dass mich zittern lässt.
Laura Enright Apr 2017
the corner shop near the railway station
opens now unlike when we came here first
when everything would shut on Sunday

the flea market in Mauerpark
is over-ridden with people selling kitsch
but we always go and we love it

everyone is so cool here that I think being cool
isn't hip anymore,
the street is a sea of hipsters in black

it's early Spring and there is still
no ferries on the Spree
but if you walk down the right street

you'll catch a couple of musicians
maybe a juggling act  
that blend in with graffiti and art

in the evening we'll go to the TV Tower
like tourists
pretend we can afford dinner in the revolving restaurant

two hundred and three metres high
and look over the cars on the road to Berlin-Mitte
that look like graceful glowing bugs below

we'll get have a cocktail with dinner in Caramba
in the square (just one)
and listen to light German jazz

with no need to worry
if the transport still runs at night
While he was in the alchemical session with Valekiria with the ***** lushness in the veins of his beloved, he felt instantly the arrival of some mounts. Etréstles, goes out and looks around the store and makes sure that Alexander the Great's entourage was there. I brought him a letter. Etréstles alerts Mardiath and the others. As the General pulls out his Leonatus, he dismounts and approaches the tent where his chief commander Vernarth was. He sees him surrounded by probes, which were like branches inserted by his right pectoral and his main veins.

Alexander the Great says:

Khaire, "I wish you joy" my great Commander Vernarth ...!!. He raises his hands, clicking with his hands to scatter some tiny earrings, to grind them on his face, they were sent by the Falangists, paying homage to him. They were like pieces of the horse's leashes with gold fillets that they ripped with the hooves of the cavalry from the armor of the bruised containers. With the tips of his fingers up his face and his hands up he appealed the presence of Zeus, and then bowed.

The last time I saw your individual, we had alternated to see the enormous over-proportioned bravery that Vernarth imposed on the battle. Here you arranged your army so that we could face everywhere, forming a large rectangle that we could face attacks from anywhere. I saw millions of Arrows fall on our army, I paid attention to you, your Lord Vernarth, who went with your wounded right breastplate, also semi hanging your Hoplite breastplate. You had legs and shoulders with impostor arrows that did not detract you from continuing with the ****** ramming of the enemy infants who were incapable of you. You mounted Alikanto and with all the momentum in an act of extreme madness you ravaged the insistent enemy ranks. There was the last great moment that I could see about your great courage and bravery to decapitate the enemy troops. Today we have defeated and I will go after Darío after his flight, which is what the world did behind him who should never have dared against our alliance with our army.

Vernarth replies:
All plunged into the Dorus and Xiphos with their multiple ****** edges, like a new blood alliance that must provide us with a new life beyond our deaths. In the hand of the blacksmith forger will reside the new lands where we have to implement new expeditions.

Brisehal, my Dog of Lut, embarrassed his ambitions to tarnish our designs. Now on the plain there are signs of panic, that only He infused on the bodies unscathed by the Falangists, they are witnesses of our daring and of the wild rebellion that caused the flight of the Achaemenides. On the glory that I do not stop aspiring, I will go to my hopes of meeting my ancestors in paradise, I have to gratify my great brotherhood to the kingdom of creation that boils through the great chimneys of the universe separating the own faculties from the power of true love , that make us coexist with our arms and legs without it being anything clearer than the footprint of the shadows, more exceptional than the same that others must thank with love to represent under all the limits that exceed the upper limits.
Alexander the Great embraces him and honors him with his battalion. His comrade Hephaestion dispenses the liturgy and dedicates a war song chanted by one hundred Hoplites plus the inclusion of his figure on the Hellenic banner to always be part of the military emblem arc of all the Greek armies and the coming social class. The Liturgy begins for a great commander and a good soldier who inherited new lands. Not only because the greed of the enemies could not be hidden, but mainly because he worked the land, which was a school of virtue for the veteran, in which he acquired the qualities of vigilance, strength and justice that form the basis of the military spirit with honors.

Hoplites say: with the General's voice in unison Khaire !!, “We wish you joy”. Our lord Vernarth eternal life. He will never forget, and he will remain enrolled in this life and the other all this feat, as a great soldier and comrade, who will also be the father of our family, out of concern to preserve the freedom of all of us, who will now be ours in the good reason to fight.

Hephaestion proclaims: Same nation and age with my lord Alexander the Great. As a Macedonian aristocrat and a Macedonian general noble. I do not see another certainty when we know your greatest skill in all the works that will be sculpted in our monuments. Today we must before your divine figure, of our credit to compensate all those who will swallow history before the same people as their own bite. Aristotle will grant volumes to refer to Vernarth in his history as a contribution of Helenofilo hero and all the jargon involving the new and unpublished diet of the poetics of the Greek world.


In the third part of the noon, when a voluminous day the most underlined epithets of the homage to the greatest commander of Alexander the Great increased; all would leave to continue the investigation of Darío III. In the store were Mardiath and Etréstles faithfully accompanying them along with his wife Valekiria.


The Parapsychological session resumes:

While Vernarth was in the hands of the Medical Medium, they kept their narrations attentive, which his assistant recorded and took note of the most relevant. To know more about his incessant chronicles. Countless journalists and people in the field of information were already stationed there near the building, all shocked by the reputation that this unusual parapsychological event had taken, before the clinical, political, cultural and news media.

Ellipsis Vernarth in Berlin, Germany - April 16, 1945:

Vernarth was paying attention to Reichstag defenders April 16, 1945. As he walked between the cross-shootings of the Wehrmacht and Allied sides. He walked in between the Battle of Berlin, which was the last major battle in Europe during World War II. It began on April 16, 1945 after the start of a major Soviet Union offensive on the capital city of the Third *****, and ended on May 2, 1945, when German defenders surrendered in the city to the Red Army. That full ability allowed Vernarth to interrelate inter-war situations of a political / warlike nature, as for this stage that remained to be reported. Now it was already in Germany occupied by the Soviet army. And to be able to continue living intensely in this way the marks and vestiges of the bullets of heavy caliber, which would be of great historical boast for future civilizations and their socio-political criticism, which still follow these marks of bullets in all the generations of this great Nation.

"On January 12, 1945, the Red Army entered German territory during the Vistula-Oder offensive and advanced westward at great speed, up to forty kilometers a day, entering Eastern Prussia, Lower and Upper Silesia and Eastern Pomerania, to a stop sixty kilometers east of Berlin, on a German defensive line along the Oder River. When the offensive resumed, two Soviet fronts - army groups - attacked Berlin from positions to the east and south, while a third attacked German positions to the north of the city. The first preparations to defend the outskirts of Berlin began on March 20, when the newly appointed commander of Army Group Vistula, General Gotthard Heinrici, correctly anticipated that the bulk of Soviet troops would cross the Oder River. Before the start of the battle of Berlin, the Soviets managed to surround the city thanks to their victories in the battles of the Seelow and Halbe hills. On April 16, 1945, the First Belarusian Front led by Marshal of the Soviet Union Gueorgui Zhúkov began to bombard central Berlin, while the First Ukrainian Front led by Marshal Ivan Kónev, pushed south to the remains of the Army Group Center. The German defenders were led primarily by Helmuth Weidling, and consisted of exhausted, ill-equipped, and disorganized divisions of the Wehrmacht and Waffen-SS, to which many joined. Thousands of Russian cannons bombed day and night, air control Russian was total, the avenues were at the expense of fanatical Waffen SS, totally Blocked ”.

Vernarth, was crossed by means of the Reichstag, and was parapet taking a German machine gun to harass Soviet soldiers, who only used it to protect himself, limiting that he was neutral. Then he disappeared into the hills and kept his distance, only seeing the immense fires that were trying to take over a dominated city. The Reichstag building was located in the already abandoned Tiergarten district, in the Mitte district of Berlin, the capital of Germany. Where he was just interned with the combatants, and in order not to be captured he served the side that received him unequivocally.

Thousands of Russian cannon bombed day and night, Russian air control was complete, the avenues were at the expense of Waffen SS fanatics and blocked. Vernarth was crossed by means of heavy transport vehicles and mortar and cannon bombs, until cornered in some skirmishes and colossal ruins. Where he manages to escape and heads to the Hotel Adlon, a great palace of kaiseres and authorities of the great bourgeoisie. Here he manages to reside and finally escape crossing borders without knowing, thinking about going to Munich and crossing other borders, perhaps disdain to join the allied side and serve as a spy.

To be continued, under edition
XVIII THREE FNALS BUMODOS
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2022
calm down: calm down... put on some Faun on...
yes, some neo-paganism ought to sooth me...
ahh... Wind & Geige...
     a great calming music...

no... did what happen last night actually happen?
let me check my account...
****... it did...

        my hands are still sort of shaky...
i woke up and there was still half a bottle of whiskey
left... that's the first time i got a headache
while drinking...

that's the first time i got a headache while drinking
whiskey...

and all i hear is that we live in a patriarchal unfair
society blah blah...
                well... all i see a society guided
by meritocracy... honestly... oh... and that guys
are weird... creepy... perverted...
sure... even i was sent a phallus photograph by
some Arab guy...
and i was like: dude... i'm a dude!
             not homophobic of anything...
    i must have kissed at least two guys in my life...
one... very memorable...
2005... Hogmanay... Prince's Street party...
Tristan's friend from Bristol...
     one handsome *******....
a proper decent snog...
    but i forgot his name but not his face...
                                another time i let this guy
put his tongue in my mouth...
another time my cousin took me to a gay
bar and i started snogging like mad...
this Brazilian treat...
                                 but a ****-pick? seriously?
i did add: show me it limp...
                         that's the "bros'" secret...
they take a picture of their "tackle" right after
having ****** off... and as it's limping...
    it looks double the initial size... anyway...
a guy seeing a ****-pick is nothing...

                    insert gulping sound and shaking hands...
yeah... men all are in creepy... the dogs...
yeah... it's not like i'm a ******...
obviously... it's not like i haven't had a *******...
it's not like i haven't paid for ***...
obviously... but i didn't pay for an expensive
date... i'm a *****-cheap-***...
                               well no... courtship on the quick...
no *******-around just wholesome *******...
the 1960s generation had their frisk and frivolity?
sure thing... i'm going to have mine to...
             oh come: share the love... share the love...

****** liberation 2.0
                                          oh and the much bigger O...
that's 2 prostitutes i managed to bring to the altar
of the big O...
    second time? unexpected... slobbering on the oyster
and using Herr Index and Herr Mitte...
   and i've had a ****** oyster too...
let me tell you: the one that has had plenty of
other... ahem... cucumbers... always taste better...
mind you... prostitutes these days are ultra-hygienic...
they're sort of compulsive about it...
then again: so am i...

    but this July heat wave is killing me...
        i want to get some but i can't: and i don't care
what the stereotype is in the animal kingdom:
hot weather puts me off... my libido goes into hibernation...
i need the cold... winter! come! come!
mein gott... when my parents die i'm selling
the house and ******* off to Greenland or the Faroe Islands...

who else will i live for in England?
no one... might as well have no one to live for
in a climate that better suits me...
Norway is too civilised...
                            i need to go somewhere basic:
with a bad internet connection and plenty of herring...

- now i'm going to have a little joke concerning
anyone abusing the post-traumatic stress disorder,
i've heard it countless times...
sure... like this one girl who i had to fulfill
the role of the Advocate personality type:
"personality types"... for me that's a pet-peeve...
i treat all this psychological-quacking
a bit like astrology: for me it's a hyper-zodiac
model: people trying to mystify themselves
without actually internalising themselves:
absolutely no introspection... laziness...
    they just follow what other people thought of:
as long as it's a schematic A + B = C sort of *******...

anyway... yeah... men are dogs... barbaric creatures
that need to be steralised... or something...
ah... pleasure...
                set... simple... gasp...
i'm no German... but i can see an example where
an ß could be introduced into English...
pleaßure... that's a pristine example of an es-zett...
the S morphs into a Z...
    it's "invisible" unlike in seizure... no... wait...
unlike in steralised steralized...
html! which is... ah...

          sterilized...  LISARD ZALAD...
                                        then again... i have Caucasian
origins... and the Cow-Cass
    is somewhere between Europe and what's the big-buttocks
of Asia's landmass...
no wonder i'm more inclined to Turkic women...
Turkic... a certain Ms. Patel...
                  i'm always drawn to something nomadic...
perhaps because i'm also somehow nomadic...

and all the *** in the most shady of places...
didn't prepare me for this...
that's the first time i got a headache when drinking...
yeah... only the men are freaky... creepy...
just take your average Muslim or Hindu girl...
expose her to western culture and... they too lose
their minds...
so i'm chatting: blah blah this... blah blah that...

she send me a picture of herself clothed...
fair enough... nice sari... nice carpets...
not a selfie... another girl took a picture of her...
and then the ******* N-BOMB...
eh?! that's how the headache started...

N-BOMB? ****! ****... these anti-racists and their
deifying of racial slur words...
there are more important words that ought
to not be uttered... me? i have...
the Name... i.e. Ha-Shem...
                                i can't say The Name:
hence? i say the name...
                          which is Ha-Shem... i'm sort of weird
like that...
   and no... i will never submit to circumcision...
enough is enough... double standards:
calling it FGM while not calling it MGM... come on...
these guys don't know the pleasure
of ******* with a *******!

it has become so bad that even the less experienced
prostitutes don't know what to do with it...
the more experienced ones know that you "half-peel" it...
yeah... it works like a jaw... it's "mandible":
you can work around it...
no... the "head" will not become starved...
the more you do it... the more flexible it becomes...
stretchy... pull-e...
            plus i need it to *******.... esp.
when i'm constipated and sitting on the throne of thrones:
i figured that it eases any tension in the ****
when constipation knocks on my door...

i didn't invest all that time and effort to complete
my William Burroughs' oeuvre for no ****** reason:
i love ****-****** literature...
but that's old school homosexuality...
the covert... subversive sexuality...
the adventurous: the torturous sexuality...
the whole aspect of the deviant taboo...
the best sort of literature...
now? with all the "pride"... eh... stalemate...
stale-bread... boring: yawn... new kinks don't really
cover the original allure...
"pride": yeah yeah... just get in line... get on with it...
YAwn...
  
                       it's a return to basics... paying for ***...
that's the rekindled new-old taboo...
i don't see the point of paying for a date...
well... the very first date i ever paid for
made sense... college-sweethearts sort of memorandum...
but i made a date into a day...
first we went and walked around an Edward Hopper
exhibition at that Tate Modern...
then... we went to the cinema to see the movie
Troy... then we drank sake and ate sushi...
we were just friends prior...
i was 6ft2 she was 6ft... so i was the only good
suitor at the school... she just came from Australia...
she complained about her father exploiting
her as a child being a performer for some
green-globalist agenda... since then
she has had 5 glorious girls... and i...
planted about 8 trees in my garden...

i'm suspicious though: of two women "in my life":
her... she married a guy 20 years older than her...
hmm...
and the neighbour across my street...
the noise is still a deafness to me... the noise
of renovation... surely she didn't move
two doors down from me: from across the street
to be close to her mother... then again:
hands in the air... flapping like a seagull
pretending to takeoff: but rather, more, agitated...
mein gott...
i caught myself being a ******...
hung-over... peeping Tom from behind the blinds...
watching her clean the patio with a jet-stream
of water...
a... "mediocre" beauty... no...
a wholesome beauty... oats... pears...
autumn... not a beauty based on a number scale...
an associative-dissociative attraction scale...

i.e. it's a moon one minute... it's a sun the next...
a river-esque sort of beauty...
the initial attraction was there...
i think i was watching the Silence of the Lambs
trying to nod off and get some sleep...
BAM!
   the mother walks into the bedroom naked...
she did that a few times after...
BAM! the older sister walks in naked...
BAM... she walks in naked...
   **** me... and at her tender age back then...
what must she bee? 14?! well... it has been years
since... she's put on more weight but
at the black guys says: more cushion for the pushin'...

i agree... i "abhor" athletic women...
more cushion... i think i have a fat face...
i can't stop thinking that i have a fat face...
and? if i think that i have a fat face?
i need some more: "bubble"... blubber...

hmm... the truest love i have ever found is always bound
to not understanding women...
the truest love i have ever found has always been
bound to forgiving women...
that's the simplest sort of love there is...
whether in the right or whether in the wrong:
a woman can only be loved if she's
to be: a priori: forgiven... rather than a priori:
understand...

like that common proverb states:
you can't live with them,
but you also can't live without them...

some medical soap opera and i'm sitting watching it...
cringing...
i could think of myself as a vetenarian...
****... vetinarian...
                       VEH-TEH-RI-NAH-RIAN...
           veterinarian... ugh... H-surd sometimes helps
when writing in English...
and i could imagine myself as a butcher...
aha... problem being...
i wouldn't mind saving the life... or rather not saving
a life of something i could also eat...

career path... surgeon?! i'd have cannibalistic
fetishes... and i don't want them...
          it's just not my "thing"...

SNAP!

so it's ****** harassment when a guy does it to a girl...
but when a girl does it to a guy?
i'm supposed to be this: READY-ON-THE-GO...
libido insomnia
SWITCH-ON SWITCH-OFF
   ******* ***-toy robot: no mood... no emotions?!
**** it up Bucko...
             that's the new ******* normal?
a girl... from an obviously ultra-conservative
culture sends me a picture of herself showering:
OBVIOUSLY she's ******* naked...
and i'm like what? Jihadi Aisha sends her thanks...
i don't even think not jerking off will help...
i tried it... it does: **** all...

oh sure... first she send me a picture of her fully dressed...
pretty as a picture... then?
head-chopped off... **** the size of elephant's ears...
i'm telling you: the deity of the Wendols...
the death eaters from the 13th warrior...
my shadow is stirring...
             i feel my face becoming detached...
from the concept of both face and head
and therefore skeleton...
                   my face is becoming a representation
of the concept of what's hidden within
an exoskeleton of an insect: it's becoming
a mush or mirror, smoke, squidge... squid...
i don't know what else...
   i'm not even reacting like an autistic person...
i'm reacting like any normal person should:
you're not supposed to be complimented
by a girl sending you a photo of herself in the shower...
****'s sake...
even the ******* that became fond of me
went as far as sending me a photograph of herself
in her bra and underwear...
but you know what she also did?
she covered her belly-button with a kiss emoticon...

**** me... we're living in times when
prostitutes replaced the priests!
concerning?! ****** aesthetics! aesthetics!
people! the idea of "free" *** is an abomination!
i don't want any set-backs...
i'm not doing this for any set-backs...
to hell with all the sort of corrupt *******
most associated with the culture thus represented:
thus... unsustainable...

i always wondered: profiling: is it a tool to sell?
or is it a tool to explore?
poet or diarist? certainly not a novelist...
i abhor complete works...
novels are complete works...
      but they're certainly not adhering
to the principle of エンソー
                    
   and with エンソー i will revive my origin interest in
Taoism...

yes... but it's the power of consent...
i didn't ask her to send me a picture of her ****
torso...
now i'm thinking: i'm thinking:
i need to milk at least 20 imaginary cows
before i get the idea of pretending to be an
anti-infanct
******* off her ******* till they're numb
out of my head...
Hades! bring me 20 cows that need to be milked!

i'm being visually *****!
i know what **** feels like...
this South African chick...
  i think she spiked my drink...
we watched the Machinist... she... and i cooked
dinner... she was a teacher at a private prep school...
but i was *****...
this was our second encounter...
first time my "Jolly Roger" felt like drift-wood...
she uttered the words: you're not going to deny me...

well... **** me... seems like a Ricky G. joke
about to drop...
true... i wasn't in the mood the first time round...
second time round...
oh... **** me... cuckoon ***...
in absolute darkness... with the bed-sheets on...
i'm naked but i'm also suffocating...
she spiked my drink...
even in the brothel i don't get aroused by
these uncomfortable situations...
          o.k.... fair enough "Pistorius"... hop hop...
you ******* dry Dutch ****!

i ought to know when: ******* dry-**** "ballerina"...
i ought to know when a ******* oils herself
up and when she doesn't...
sure... #metoo... i also ****** girls
i wasn't really into...
but this one broke the norm!
she didn't send me the Mechanist DVD i brought
with me to the date back! *****!

all that Christian Bale effort to play this
tormented anorexic: why no Oscar?
a role definitely more informative than whatever
the **** the Joker: Whack-Lean Fix-Fin won his
Ocar for... whatever... from now on in
i'm going to call them: Woo-Scars...

dry-****? oh... right... i wasn't asking a question...
that's how you get ***** by a woman...
she's dry... she's bitter...
she's probably a teacher in a private all-boys school...
you haven't been circumcised:
lucky you...
at least you were laying slabs on one of the roofs
of the Battersea Dogs & Cats shelter...

one was yesterday...
another was tomorrow...
   **** happens... Newton "happened"...
i don't even think you can think as either being
or not being... or born or dead...
since... well... Newton happened...
and by happening: he's recurring...
    which implies: the utmost of the Tao doctrine
of "not doing"... eh... excesses of para-mortality.

you don't want to be sent a photograph
of a woman's naked torso:
so casually... while she's having a shower...
for my ******* ******* libido to function
it requires respite...
unless... i've been promised all the things
these modern Jihadi Johns...
what about the Ummah and the Chinese Muslims
currently in concentration camps?
sub-humans?! the Uyghurs?!
where's the war for them?!
            ******* *******...

                         no Arab fight for them?! just...
the same old same old boring attack:
post-colonial weaknesses to the fore...
                                       the Uyghurs! they're part
of the UMMAH!
                      i see the modern Arab world
and you know what i see? the Medieval Byzantine world.
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2019
em... in the current western "european"
dialectic / narrative...
or whatever you might call it...
i'm not european...
   i'm "european"...
                      i'm merely eastern...
oh... right...
so you've been fed some slavic
*****...
you "just" forgot there's a male
tongue in tow?
                      right... right...
                you know...
                        i could have actually
cared
for your anglican quasi-******
brides...
                         i am wedded
to a forgetfulness to care...
         my cure for the experience
of apathy...
which... "your people"...
prescribed me with!
                     i dream of...
darknened hollow tunnels...
  places...
where neither the h'americans
or the english will never find themselves
frequenting,
whether atiired
with a pair of dangling *******
or not.

mid-vid
zu machen du weinen...
                      doch?
ich weinen für ein gründ...
   die tod,
mein schatten...
             und eine synonym.

mitte-gründ volk...
uns...
             "die volk"...
  middle people...
hardly a russian...
nor an albanian...
not a romanian...
or a bulgarian..

          "something" mid...
but never quiet equipped
to justify an expression
of itching an existence
from horror...

            but... when you brought
to my awareness
a "question"
of the anglo-sax brides
***** by pakistani
men?

                oh...
      i'm... supposed to care?
where, the ****, were, you?
where was i?
   isolated...
         thinking about
spelling mistakes!
      you, you were:
i hope... stating the *******
obvious...
you wish for slang via
citing brick top...
           you... *******... ****!

but me?
i'm always east...
take your *******
****-bride...
and... ******* where
i won't hurt you...
Mars... peferably...
me?
i'm paying the right attitude
for patience...
i have the uninhibited
patience
of punching myself...
    
no... the ***** won't
"get it"...
      they're waiting
for the *****-whip-flush
of sentences...
i wanna fight...
but...
all they have is
a carboot champion
of a waiting game...
no... i want to fight...

i already told them...
i'm quiet happy
succumbing to the pain...
i enjoy pain...

like... deaf... pawn...
upon 'earing ears...
and... still not difference...
that's what gives you
licking off a german
boot of a language,
and not mingling
with the stratum of
the wind-rush of Jamaican
        cricketeers...

the little-love
that remained of me for
this language...
            to further express
it...
      hell... it has to be
accomplished in an
almost buddhist fashion.
Marie Nov 2020
In der Mitte der Sekunde
fällt die Szenerie
in die verlängerte Endgültigkeit

— The End —