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Connor Reid Apr 2014
A duality of elan vital, two people
Spectres of emotion
Intertwined by a fuselage of bruised skin & tendon
Tissues become orbital, gushing towards grafts
Helixes of snot, **** and lymph
Boy & girl
As they embrace the animating principle and eachother, they fuse
A one piece tapestry adorned seamless with no hem, beginning or end
Always was, always is
Patiently turning to liquid as their being unzips
Lying figures of runny makeup and genetic *****
Quintessence, a texture of synaptic potential
Corpus Callosum
An entirety of self, lost in imbued disintegration
Theory of mind, looped & bound
I will water the thought
Roots envisaged in dystopian amygdala
Piercing data packets with a frost-like intensity
Forgetting our obsolescence moments ago
A neuron dipped in nylon
Theta waves and the non-euclidean crux of dissociation
Ghosts in the machine, your macro god
The sympathies of fractional distillation
Digitised/assimilated unto the nanosphere
Cold hands and brass backs galvanised in oscillated tears
Commodified, sold out and bought
Stretching, from purple, white and black
slowly losing its colour, amorphous in shape
brushed across a smudge, ambiguously chromatic
Monetised flesh god
An eternity bathed in starlight
Cutting an incision in the sky to allow entropy
Divided dimensions of energy
Fleeting and intangible
No longer a delirium of seperation
All semantics become light
As a rusted vehicle passes overhead
And all the worlds questions fade out of existence
Flutters of red tape and foregone growth of practice
Sinew flayed, integrated towards information
Our minds shared
In circuits and resistors
Photons and electrons
We radiate
Evie G Feb 2022
Who here loves *******?!!!
I mean, dogs
Obviously…
Immature people.

I love ***** shows.

Seeing them all groomed to perfection, not a hair out off place
A shame some cute faces will just go to waste.
While some may whine and some may resist,
If it’s not monetised, well… does it exist?

Lined up in a row
Look at them go
Praying and hoping to win best in show, just for a itty bitty wittle headpat, while the owner gets useful things like money.
Cause a dog can’t use money, that’s just silly

Nails perfectly trimmed
Intelligence dimmed
Watch how they walk with a little trot, so proud of themselves,
its like they forgot they only have the same rights as their owners in 6 countries.
But dogs don’t need equal working rights, that’s just silly

Look its absurd
When they whine all their words
Clogging up space with their frilly likes and their silly ums that totally like inconveniences like everyone because they have to um like listen to a ***** talk for um longer than they like totally like um have to like ***.

But they aren’t so bad, especially when you’ve had
A ***** that wont behave, a ***** that’s gone mad
Howling at the moon with their wandering wombs
It’s like there’s no party, only balloons.
If a ***** wears pants, do they go on all fours
Or do they get sent home for showing more than their paws.

Gasp at how they growl, protecting their hairy bodies, which, silly them, they don’t own.

They must be culled
Anger dulled
Knock in their thick skulls they are nothing but a *****.

We all love ***** shows, we love the ******* even more.
So come on ladies, get down on all fours.
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2017
kupujesz kebab'ah, przyjmuszej arab'ah.

do people realise it's
bound to be beyond
jesus?
           i listen to the cantos
of the templars
    and hear the *adhan
;
it's just problematic
when you revise
these verses into a coherent
movement that can
be monetised / militarised...
    
*in the grotto of nationhood; thus was said
to provide a signature, footprint or
the trouser's zipper; as the least demanding
reply... thus said by a man with no
crusader past... what is this anyway?
  i'm going to call on the templar cantos
to be aired on classic.fm, but i know they
won't, they'd sooner air orff...
and that's the sad bit...
        the violent bit comes later,
when you prescribe people medicine,
with them thinking it's poison.
Connor Reid Jun 2014
Stabbing
microwave film tops
forks & one minute
standing
impatience
picking at his lips
marbled insipid midnight
on ovals
pleasant, reaching
inside
black duffle coats
right handed rural esteban
a bunch of oddfellows
lifted up
excursion
hugging abdomen
with an almost
cro-magnon embodiment
with no one to talk to
or company to speak of
brilliant matted darting
causing a spillage
loose putrid peppermint
buboes & femurs
have no presence
has no presence
burrowed
momentary malebogia
denizen
99' strange amounts
clean lived war memorials
the monetised crucifix
the earth is alive
shapeshifting, spasmodic
pleasant pleasant sound
loose dripping glue
chestnut hair
cider sipped walls
frosty jacks & contains
foamed **** arrayed myriad
sirens prune
telepath
twelve fragments
Approaching
Commuter Poet Jun 2016
Let me make you feel like this

Let me make you feel like that

Let me guide you into the unknown

Let me give you this experience

And then

I will present you

With my bill

Yes, I will

Present you with my bill

Did you not know

That feeling

Costs?

We have monetised it
Wrapped it up
Processed it
And valued it

And now if you want it
We will deliver it to you
In packages to suit your needs

Just, don't ask for it
For free
Don't demean yourself
And don't insult me

After all
Feelings cost

And costs add up
And everything must have its price

If this world is going to balance its books

We need to make it pay
Don't we?
15th June 2016
Wreathes around my neck are forming,
Sky is storming,
This noose is dragging me to the forest,
Raimi’s curse mark,
Those dark words spoke,
Those dark lies,
We have our eyes held open and stare at a world gagging on it’s sick,
So, obsessed with conflict,
So (insert)phobic,
We stir the hatred,
This broth is rancid,
Go vote for tory,
Best not help people,
You ******* lefty,
Don’t’ be a *****,
Not very manly,
What happened to manly?
In my time we were all tougher,
And sure, we suffered but that’s how the world was,
Except now we see it,
The dam is breaking,
The lies of a world with no truths are so ******* flaky,
Pawns in chess,
Players of a game,
Working onwards to our graves,
Cultural shift now,
Bend your perception,
Money should not motivate,
It’s a pit of snakes solidifying you into a mindless rock so easily shocked,
Under the thumb and afraid of change,
Become a zombie,
I see the future,
We are either flying or dying,
Either way this cacophony is catching up to us,
Do we play the game or change the game?
Do we build up instead of tear down?
A support system in place of a war system,
Why are we so sure of the systematic failure of empathy?
What are you doing?
Working 5 days a week for a happy 2?
Is your enjoyment being monetised?
Is the mind loss of alcohol your saving grace at weekends?
Does losing yourself relieve your stress?
Be more creative,
We’re so close to progressing,
Life should be more play than work but right now Jack is a very dull boy,
****** over by the guy boy,
Crash land from the sky boy,
I see your lies boy,
Politics is the longest running reality show and just as meaningless,
Are you seeing this?
Are you happy with this?
Do you realise how the words we see are manipulated?
How these words we see manipulate the words we say?
Left or right,
Still goes alright,
And words can’t fight,
But we will fight over them,
That was an empty statement,
But where even is meaning?
These are all just screenings and tests,
Yet we’re all just screaming at best,
Be pure,
Be vigilant,
Behave,
Be lewd,
And lax,
Destroy,
Every system,
Every rule,
Smash like mouth,
Smashed like your relieving weekends,
**** your idols,
Become your idol,
Stop sitting back idle.
ay
David Noonan Jan 2020
I felt that i would age easier
never once having been young
Yet how could I hope to finish a race
that a starting pistol had not begun
So the crowds they stand assembled
with that ticker tape pulled so taut
I'm chipped and pinned from today
as my mortality begins it's rot

I'm digitised and I'm monetised
a childhoods faith long since lost
Personal decline shared communally
as another nail is mounted on this cross

Yet we slow reveal that we have a tribe
through a lonely sax on the mystery train
We shall survive to take another step
a radio dial through the driving rain
Towards that path of lifes confusion
to start again how would it feel
As night does fall and day does break
we mould these chains to our tribal wheel
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2022
- Harlow -
      a morning spent
      drinking jack
  and eating a lilac coloured
mushroom
     in the forest...
         poisoned? maybe...
i never thought about
eating something lilac...
                          esp. a fungus.
                                                        
­                        yet another 502 bad gateway bypass.


truly mythical properties... it's not the first time it has
happened...
   Khedra... is it just me... maybe i'm hallucinating
this scent... even if i am... it's pretty potent...
a bit like seeing **** when you close your eyes
after being awake for 36h+ straight...
                         auditory hallucinations?
                                       sometimes i hear my name
as if from afar... i remember it happened at Wembley
before a shift... i might have only had 2 hours sleep
prior... didn't eat much... a combination of factors...
a gust of wind and then... my name...
   i sort of froze and looked around...
                      but this is different...
                                  whatever people might think
about jerking off: sure... men get the stigma while
women become cam-girls and get off for money...
the ****** liberation bites back...
because for most guys it's a return to that
critique by richard von krafft-ebing in his
psychopathia sexualis... mind you...
   we're talking the 19th century...
                   shaming men... fair enough... while celebrating
the use of cucumbers and other such toys...
i have to thank Khedra for sending me those selfies...
i've stopped watching *******... pure and simple...
and no... she isn't even sending me nudes...
just close-ups... some collar-bone and neck...
one... she's wearing glasses and she made a close-up
of her lips...
                  not duck-lips... injected with too much
silicone... just naturally full lips...
                    come to think of it...
                                        i've only had "unprotected" ***
with two women in my life...
  ****... it's been too long since the first one...
so she sends me this selfie with another woman with her:
a much bigger pair of *******, blonde...
and this is what happens when you give a signed
copy of your poetry book to a woman...
what's today's date? ah... the 22nd... i'll get paid come
early April... guess where that money is going?
but when i was about to ******* one time i sort of stopped
and... can i? yeah... are you sure?
                yeah... i can't get pregnant...
                        and off went a squadron of white paratroopers...
into the golden gates of V....
but today... looking at the selfies she sent me...
now? all i have to do is look at her face and
remember having ******, ****** her real good...
hell... now my memory bank has increased exponentially...
i can just switch a cinema on where i'm the protagonist
in a shady *** scene with mirrors...
     funny... no ****** too...
well... except for the sordid antics in my head...
           but today... upon *******...
                                i could smell her...
                                       is that what happens when your
body bonds with another body at the zenith
of mutual ******? a piece of them: the scent is somehow
intact with you?!
    well... i don't know... you're sharing
various liquids between each other...
   her V juices... her sweat, her saliva...
           your juice, your sweat your saliva...
                      and my... it's so good to be appreciated
for being a clean: ultra-clinical ultra-pedantic cleanliness
freak... let's face it... if a ******* doesn't mind
having unprotected *** with you...
   and she doesn't mind you ******* into her...
you must be doing something right...
but i swear i have her scent in me, on me...
however it works... i even tell her every time i leave:
i'll have a wash prior... but never after...
no... i want to keep you on me for a while... longer...
other times when ******* is useful...
when you're about to perform...
   starts a day prior... ******* 3x without *******...
on the day of the performance...
some more jerking off without *******...
white wine is an aphrodisiac for me... as is exercise...
2x sessions of immense physical scrutiny...
30min each... the bottle of wine in between...
             ****... that litre of Jack is still on offer at Tesco...
better stash up on it... take it with me...
just chill... pour myself a drink when i'm with her...
she'll probably want to do some *******...
me? i'm too old for that ****...
                     trying it for the first time aged 35...
and the fact that it didn't do anything for me...
                               sure... she can do whatever she wants...
but it's more practical like this...
it's not like i'm alone in my predicament...
sure... if i were a single mum i could easily apply
for a council flat...
getting a mortgage? poetry pays ****...
                   if anything...
                          rent? what... cough up money to some
stranger's pockets?! just to what? live alone?
alone in order to play the dating game and hope:
"hope" of bringing someone back to my place?
obviously when you go out the girl would never ask
her round hers... but to go round yours...
plus... my personal library is too big to simply:
shift it... as is my music collection...
                           and... living with your parents isn't
that bad if you don't mind them and still somehow
managed to like you... being the custodian...
cooking food... d.i.y. - cleaning... well... if the old woman
has problem with arthritis... might as well...
but i'm not alone in this... after all...
in Japan they have this "thing" that's called
the ラブ ホテル (rabu hoteru) - love hotels...
    since... living arrangements are pretty much the same
there... but in the west... it's such a shame...
while Asian families in England... three ******* generations
under the same roof...
     is it some in-bred qualm or something?
sure... in capitalism everyone's going to be a winner...
what would be the alternative? go out at night...
pick a girl up... then... book a hotel room...
at least i get that ******* out of the way...
   i'm still going to follow her up on the suggestion...
but... at the same time... i don't think she'll follow up
on it...
            well... if this is the price for carnal love
   (ニクヨク 愛) - nikuyoku ai (アイ) -
              you just have to figure out a way to adapt...
isn't that what Darwinism teaches?
             you learn to adapt... this works for me...
hell... like that old saying goes... if something isn't broke:
don't fix it... took me a while... how long will this last?
well... if she's going to be sending me more of those
selfies where she's teasing her tongue at me...
                  i've already given up ******* for good...
for that: i'll be eternally grateful...
better let off steam from time to time
borrowing from memory: looking at her face...
being the protagonist than that ugly sensation of being
a ******...
   plus... how long would it take for a casual hook-up
girl to say the words: you're a beautiful man?
if at all! she might think it: but won't say it...
and... *** for free? for free implies she can somehow
get this high from an emotional attachment...
sure... get attached... but there are barriers...
and again: nothing is for free...
              you're going to be paying for something in
the end... dinner dates... gifts...
   i'm only here for the corporeal and carnal...
           but i would seriously *****-slap all those guys
that send money to cam-girls... or whatever you want
to call them: the ones that monetised selling bathwater...
that's an easy way out for the girl...
  what do you mean... no touchy-feely?
                       and behind a computer screen?!
i'd sooner be found giving spare change to a *****
than... whatever the hell the current culture dictates...
i'd say: return to the old school way of doing things...
but then again: that's just me;
   clearly i'm no pornographer...
                          a wholesome session of ***...
even if its once a month... i'll settle for that...
clearly i don't need any more... and if it was on a regular
basis... if i had to sleep in the same bed
as the woman... first i wouldn't get a good night's sleep
and secondly: i'd probably get bored of the ***...
i'd have to explore **** / latex kinks...
and... i don't want to do that.

— The End —