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Sequacious demonstrative mongrel fantastication
Overt fantasias and monstrance clarification
Rhetorical rote of empirical justification
Whimsical enervations elicit ramification
Incite legendary fables of rectification
Tempestuous mendacious erudite personifications
Endemic epistemological semantics of edification
Evocative illuminism engenders mortification
Judicious spontaneous phantasms of gratification
Numinous salutatory statutes of ratification

Heuristic existentializing empiricisms alleviate confusion
Adamant machismo machinations eliminate delusion
Eulogizing enigma entity’s illustrious illusion
Torridly allusive revelries of reverie effusion
Educing morose maniacal moribundity’s inclusion
Epitomizing empathetic revulsions to corroborate elusion
Probitous erudite solicitations evade contusion
Raunchy riotous accoutrements appreciate exclusion
Optimizing subjunctively torpid recalcitrant collusion
Scenario syntactics of mythically epic allusion
Traveler Sep 2013
Mythically attractive
This spellbinding October night
Uncountable stars
The moon shining vividly bright
The autumn leaves whisper
As they gracefully slither on down

The harvest we’ve gathered
Has our hearts waxing fatter
The lure of sweet passion
The magic that happens uptown

Jack o’lanterns and witches
Young hearts superstitious
Goblins and ghosts
Are the parties’ creepiest hosts around

We all take our place
At the feast as we haste
To go forth where old spirits abound
It's that time, love it!
almat011 Aug 2019
Hot brunette

Black eyes as black space, I plunge into endless love and true happiness, the stars of passion burn in them. Your eyes are capable of bewitching any man with their amazing beauty, their charms turn him into a puppet. A ****** secret immersed in an infinitely deep love, increasing your invaluable value in my life to infinity. More than anything else, I am afraid of losing you, my soul will die from this terrible pain of suffering. You are a living legend of the highest beauty, real, but mythically beautiful.

Your body is like a **** pattern, hot eroticism of temptation, you are perfect from any angle near and you have issued a silhouette of perfection, my mind raves about you at night, I fall asleep from passionate love and see you in my treasured ****** dreams, I'm frightening obsessed with your beauty and soul. So beautifully your wine spills over your **** body, exciting the amazing shine of your body, the heady beauty of sensual charm, your chosen one possesses eternal wealth, you are the most valuable thing in eternity and the universe itself, you are a dream that you can dream of forever even after death , you are much more expensive and more beautiful than any gemstone. Perfectly black long hair as if shining with black opal, lush lips like rose quartz, which will give a juicy, savory, hot, sultry, torrid kiss, I eagerly taste every kiss and in my eyes there are millions of sparks, billions of love sparks, we are among the stars of love, it’s super exciting and sincerely in love, dark-skinned skin, juicy caramel of priceless gold, nowhere is sweeter and sexier, elite beauty is like the representative of the highest races of all universes, tenderly sensually milky chocolate skin of a sultry brunette goddess of ***** secret dreams.

The voice is like a cute kitten, you are an infinitely cute cutie. All the most beautiful melodies and songs about you, all the most romantic is nostalgia about you. Your sweet moans of pleasure is my favourite music, which I want to listen to all my life, it’s brutally exciting and never bothers. I want an entire album and a huge playlist with your hot moans, I want to listen all days all my life, it’s the only thing that excites and never bothers that away turn off my brains. All my dreams are about you. Your body is so hot and beautiful, it’s just tin, your image powerfully falls in love, it toughly excites this simply bliss for my eyes. Beautiful well, just meow ... juicy. Infinitely powerful exciting, infinitely growing intensifying love and admiration, like endless, aggressive ******* of endless love *** without ******, so sexually exciting that you can just go crazy from love and lust, an unquenchable thirst to love and caress your body an infinite number of times, it’s hard to breathe and I seem lose consciousness from admiration.

You are the embodiment of my most sincere *****, ******, hot, ****** *** fantasies, desires, my new instinct called ****** love that I named after you, there is a tattoo with your name and your portraits on my soul. I'm fanatically sick of you. I lie and kiss your body with my eyes. You amaze me with your beauty to the very depths of your soul; my whole brain is amazed with you; you are my reality and eternal **** thought; everything except you melts like ice cream from your sultry hot sun, like the sun of beauty. You have a divinely sweet skin color, you are more appetizing than any dishes in the world, I cry with love and admiration, I am ultra powerfully in love with you to look at you as it is ****** pleasure in itself - this is an amazing magic of seduction in your eyes excites a powerful hunger for *** - this is an eternal call to your flesh. ******* mega harsh excitement makes *****, brutal passion, animal lust, mixed with sincere love.

You amaze me with your beauty to the very depths of your soul, my whole mind is amazed by you, your body is very beautiful ****, you can write an infinite number of love poems and prose, you are an inexhaustible waterfall of love, ****** inspiration. My heart eloquently poeticizes your sultry, divine image. My mind prays that you will be mine literally every day. Each room has an altar to worship every part of your hot **** body. *** with you is the ultimate bliss.

It’s so eternally beautiful, infinitely beautiful and immensely **** that it crosses all borders. Unbearably exciting right up to a pleasant pain in my soul, thoughts, heart, I start to moan and utter your name with pleasure, oh yeah baby, oh yeeaaah, **** how ****, sooo hooot, you are an ultra powerful *** machine of excitement makes powerfully *****, I am programmed for eternal love for you, my the psyche has totally switched to you. Of all the desires of all lives, I choose only you. Your appearance is your ego fly away.
Author: Musin Almat Zhumabekovich
agdp Aug 2011
All through the afternoon,
among these drinkers
to their tables to java cups
all from a bird’s-eye view.

Blended individuals,
of varying hues
too much sugar, no need to stir
hot, no ice - “a language of their own”
adding “cream to this crop”
like fraternity’s rushing thought
to seemingly **** out the weak.

Textbook before my face, coffee to my right
surrounded by chatter, and apparent debacles
behind the rearing of my ear lobes
set the seem from my shirt and cut
play the motion picture, film, pan out.

360 crossover,
these eyes wander, merely to ponder
conscious parenting to the mind; reminded
yes I did complete that -
atoning to what could be done,
view now from my eyes
around clouded peripherals
(zooming into this page)
trying to read to figure
a Venn diagram of the temporal lobe;
committing to memory ironically
it’s long-term function to maintain
the conception of this thought.

Distracted, back to this drink
re-calling coffee mythically impedes growth
or so they say to stray from focus -
the holder is the cup, to handle is abrupt
but we drink it, to straighten our view
so much as this morning vice stimulation
branded by a jaded graphic mermaid,
or possibly a siren, or to some a muse.

But, it’s the afternoon; no need to rush,
just here and there, casually taking sips
temporary jolts of caffeine
a temple of thought,
temporarily fading,
due to lacking the day-to-day rest.

Same perspective,
but this time curious, calm, and collected
like a child looking above an ant-farm - proud
gazing at moving points like synapses
of our coffee cups as opening our wakefulness.

Can we just remember to understand
that everyday is different.
Our mornings may start mundane
but we find joy in the day
for afternoon connections
no matter what they may be, just to remember,
so that we can have lasting memories,
and not the caffeinated ones.
http://soundcloud.com/medicinalpoet/agdp-caffeinated

AGDP © 2011
Kam Yuks Jun 2013
Today is governed by the cyclical nature of science and the god that has been created mythically as an axis point to explain our existence.

To what end do we find separation from  a reality formed from consciousness?

The over-mind - what has also been referred to as a god-conscience, spans the digits of numerical structure and maintains an order that is beyond our limited comprehension. Division then, is not separation; it is a change that alters what is divided. Everything falls within our finite infinity - knowledge and the unknown - our minds and its thoughts.

The inhabited earth is a manifestation of thought vibrating throughout the cosmos. Star clusters are fragmented thoughts that gather and gradually grow closer until an idea emerges from the detritus left by the explosion.

Each atom is made up of multiverses that are made up of more atoms.
Sequacious demonstrative mongrel fantastication
Overt fantasias and monstrance clarification
Rhetorical rote of empirical justification
Whimsical enervations elicit ramification
Incite legendary fables of rectification
Tempestuous mendacious erudite personifications
Endemic epistemological semantics of edification
Evocative illuminism engenders mortification
Judicious spontaneous phantasms of gratification
Numinous salutatory statutes of ratification

Heuristic existentializing empiricisms alleviate confusion
Adamant machismo machinations eliminate delusion
Eulogizing enigma entity’s illustrious illusion
Torridly allusive revelries of reverie effusion
Educing morose maniacal moribundity’s inclusion
Epitomizing empathetic revulsions to corroborate elusion
Probitous erudite solicitations evade contusion
Raunchy riotous accoutrements appreciate exclusion
Optimizing subjunctively torpid recalcitrant collusion
Scenario syntactics of mythically epic allusion
orthogenesis overtures
ShamusDeyo Oct 2014
If I were a Unicorn nibbling on Roses
I would stomp my Hoof and Snort
That men Exist, I should Suppose
I would shake my Silver Mane
And rake my horn upon a tree
That men could exist, Non-Mythically
Such Tales are whispered by the colts
Unicorns know the very Idea Revolts,
That Unmagical Creatures may be
Walking Upright under the trees
With a Quick Swish of my Tail,
I would Deny the very Myth,
That men should be, indeed
For having no Magic you see
They Lack  the Will to believe
But, never will this Myth Disperse...
Should Men exist 'twould be the worst
All the Work here is licensed under the Name
®SilverSilkenTongue and the © Property of J.Flack
The death of me, will probably be, self-inflicted or come unnaturally. /
My generation has metamorphosized to believe this ideology filled with lies, and grown to despise all things good, all things right/
Holiness is but a mythically unattainable virtue only seen with wise eyes/
And me with my wide eyes open couldn’t even see past sunrise/

Many times I hid behind my Christian face/
My black skin speaking tales of my Christian race/
But then straight after church my rehearsed day begins/
Go to see “that” girl and write Haikus on her skin/
A 3 bar poem about why she’s the one/
Taking hours to come home before the day is done/

The death of me will probably be this doomed society/
Digging pits for their own graves with their words of blasphemy/
Drugs lay waste to what remains of their minds/
Trying to convince them that God exists is like defusing a land mine/
Who am I to try and help, I’m still suffering the same/
Can’t even control the thoughts flooding in my brain/
Had to write this out just to try and stay sane/
Thinking is speeding up now, I’m like that electric train…/

And then I see it/

Tomorrows generation smokes drinks and takes drugs/
Looking everywhere for things to fill the void left by love/
Searching everywhere except above /
They are scanning the sea for a raven not a dove/

This is todays tomorrow, where the truth isn’t believed/
And the generation of that time will choose to live disobediently//
Celina Nov 2017
Just a little smile
The thoughts began
Wild and kind
Your mouth amiably shaped

Just a little talk
The contact began
Honest and raw
Your words wisely phrased

Just a little walk
The friendship began
Immature and unique
Your steps carefully placed

Just a little touch
The allegiance began
Lose and fragile
Your hand softly teased

Just a little glimpse
The connection began
Blue and brown
Your eyes mythically stared

Just a little kiss
The relationship began
Soft and sweet
Our lips gently met

Just a little melody
The dancing began
Close and humble
Our bodies carelessly moved

Just a little sleep
The dreaming began
Fearless and adventurous
Our legs chaotically intertwined

Just a little question
The searching began
Curious and extraordinary
Our minds mysteriously linked

Just a little star
The shine began
Bright and dazzling
The light inexorably glowed
I stand in the shower with lavender fields in my chest

how do I scrape off the muck, scoop out the loathing
and take off the gloves to pick up the patches of fear
that periodically gather at the base of my shower drain  

how do I heal each limb so that with majesty
I awaken knowing
full and bright that I am a child with wings
and elevation is the right song that pours out when I dream
an inheritance marbled into my being’s skin
                              …
how does a child beget forgetting
how does an adult continue such forgetting

what is the suchness of wholeness
whose scent of remembrance seems mythically far
but its verity present within our plot

                              …
our hands reaching for the bunches of lavender
that can be gathered from a bountiful field
a calm whiff of what we truly are
that can send us back into an infinite space of fruitful life
cusping possibility
                            ...
portable pastures inside our homestead
running water
and a chance to be cleansed
what suchness of being over my body  
how ecstatic
how simple to stand under the showerhead 
on the toes of today
with a meadow in my chest
Sequacious demonstrative mongrel fantastication
Overt fantasias and monstrance clarification
Rhetorical rote of empirical justification
Whimsical enervations elicit ramification
Incite legendary fables of rectification
Tempestuous mendacious erudite personifications
Endemic epistemological semantics of edification
Evocative illuminism engenders mortification
Judicious spontaneous phantasms of gratification
Numinous salutatory statutes of ratification

Heuristic existentializing empiricisms alleviate confusion
Adamant machismo machinations eliminate delusion
Eulogizing enigma entity’s illustrious illusion
Torridly allusive revelries of reverie effusion
Educing morose maniacal moribundity’s inclusion
Epitomizing empathetic revulsions to corroborate elusion
Probitous erudite solicitations evade contusion
Raunchy riotous accoutrements appreciate exclusion
Optimizing subjunctively torpid recalcitrant collusion
Scenario syntactics of mythically epic allusion
orthogenesis overtures
Ken Pepiton Aug 2021
_ {pretty long and drawn out }---
Professionally, I am writing, mere words,
as defined five years ago, or so,
when I was a pro preacher,
temping one Wednesday night a month,
Preaching to the choir.
Always first Wednesday, by chance.
the medium delivered the message,
using a surrendered retired middle schuler
- detail overlap crystal cathedral
- reset, the messenger was a retired
- middle school teacher, from La Mesa
on an off Wednesday, a message
value add,
as an
assignment, home work, as in
when you get home…
"Ask God what lies you believe about him",
the messenger relay paused,.."or any thing else."

Okeh.
Did you ever get a message, like in a
mental "I am talking to you, read my lips"

Listen, Fool, Mr. T, f'trooph, riii I knew
u'ld know.
- old archival primal fem-sophia
leela the dance, redone in mortal times
taken to the writer, do the dance
do it doit oit wit witchwatch
tic

so saying singing

--- discarnation pink reencarnalated mind

practice practical fractalling seeing
similarity in substance of hope,
faith as a thought, that leads
as a thread

-----------------

One hundred and fifteen
thousand years ago,
a billion hours,
or so…
-timespaced to mortal measure
attention paid forward, for fun,

slow
ther o, there is the musterion, agone
quick silver puddle
think of me,
in the palm of my hand
mercurial river tween yen and yank
think a link to an idea

Jared Diamond- 60K leap
face out ward,
but inward,
seeing
ah, as in get your head out
yes
mental agreement, you know,
where we are going to
ward from ward

point of life directly between
you and me.


Drunken Noah?
If there were no alcoholic wine from grapes
what about the curse on Ham, in Shemetic legends
- and sacred gifts, that sacrificial money could buy

Alcohol believe me, is easy,pleasyeasy as *******
spirits, like that, curious word for *****, but
w'dja say? Stories old as clouds have boozers, red nose
leaders in a pinch, red light at night, so the stars
are not hidden from consideration, of our station,
under that, look up, in the desert,
see what consideration is, in the mountains,
or in the black out, after the bombing, or the storm or fire,
look up, see so many stars we cannot consider ours
so special, yet
it is, to mortal minds, the only resting place for
-- realization of selves,

yeah, the peak of mass loftiantic oh punish me
the mass kissed me
on the lips.
--- I was talking back to Youtube. Objection Orienting
pyramid of actuality
mis-con-stru {ct or e} subtler than any beast
in structural  integrity, built
serpent wise, dove harmless, child
of the com-pro-miserly decision
to spit in the ocean, and drown,
dream dredging in the daytime,
Ronnie Milsap blind,

Downtown Broadway, half a block from Pinkie's
No,
really it is Tootsie's Orchid Lounge,
¿ -- and chicha is new, not old in Peru,
and strong drink, wine as a mocker
strong drink raging, are these misconstrued
visions of
wine that makes glad the heart of man?

messengers in me, the bits
of truth held as mine,
bubbles in me, foam
fermenting my new wine, held hermetically sealed
sense
the empty vessels were filled -the signature miracle
of the forgotten story proofs,
reproving life's instruction
as the way of life.

Role of ritual, is control, error prevention,
knack pre-served re-served to the deserving

vision a elusis- scenes abiotos

sitting by the stream, sensing common sense,
asking death to tell its sting's locale.

Fear of God, begins Wisdom.
Fear of Death subjects mind to *******.

Having eternal life,
not being
eternal life, dying before dying

think an arrow in a benign bow, lips
like Bettie Boop,
kewpie doll reminder, for the vets,

everyday people, sly, yes, the family stone.
The desire was to be mythically free,
o yes
as it is said, when it happens to you,
if you do not believe it happens

religion Geertz, bind back,
symbols in a mind, kept from idols, that acts

what ties me to you and us to life, the whole?

Religion apps.
Joy is real, gladness is real, more than sadness.
laugh it off, y' old drunk.

As a thought, information as a word,
in a story,
in the current medium
of life's most recent retelling

Tupac Inca was a man
of lofty and ambitious ideas,
and was not satisfied
with the regions he had already conquered.
So he determined
to challenge a happy fortune,
and see if it would favour him by sea.…

From <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/TopaIncaYupanqui>

Circa 1492, the man is this legend from 1572,
as time flew in those days, now this is new,
Tupac Inca,
and the spirits that linger in stories of stories
heard told by the burners of libraries.

Conquistadores? Whose heroes were those,
ah, call'em Musketeers, or Knights, Templars all,
yes, Crusaders, call them drunks driven to escape hell.
Right. By right used knowledge in the holy story,
in which we trust, our lives, our luck, our sacred honor

Ah, the use of ritual, convince us all, no child invincible,
no child left behind, catechize send'em to schule,
that is the rule,
or be ostracized, stay low, be humble and collect
the rent… old ways do not die, they
evolve. Ariadne, she has a tale as old as times
when bull minds ruled lion heads and eagle heads
and serpent head, the gangs
of survivors

after the sea-people, 1177 AD,
reboot reality with no
old people, only the captive children
grown in captivity, let them prove
their will to self sovereignty, servant to the self
I am,
aware of all the old stories, this is one
told as shown,

Es ist mein Weltanschaung, ja
for show and tell,
my grandpa showed me how, we started

with Python,
Artistic Intuition, a mind mod, fitted to my grandsons,
during the useless summer of PS5 and X-Box and Switch
humble game sequencing AI, as a knack,
kids develop by five. I have the experience,
I witnessed three brothers boosting each other
through Terreria, for three weeks,
in July.
These kids think of each other differently
from we who played cops and robbers,
or cowboys and indians, or jacks.

Marbles, we need that set of low level gnosis,
below billiards and snooker and pool,

marbles is a good game to rule a clan with,
when you get the idea of children learning self
governing by growing in the midst of grown men,
wombed and un,
all who knew each child in a loving, one of ours, way.

Then came the captive kids, who had no words.
Then did the story change as one child learned
marbles was the same.

_ in the lost june pages, was this vision, thought
visualized, as a glob of snot, but now, it is mercury,
about as much as in a thermostatic bimetalic transister
switch

Competitive gaming, while all the leading stories are
crying, now hear this
oooeeeee this is the news you can trust
sueeeeeeeeeee we lost Kabal but
we won the hearts and minds
we left behind,
we tried, the rulers we borrowed from to have this war
they quit saying there was a good reason to have this war.
- I can argue with the timing, but not the truth,
- there was never a good war.

I wept when it happened in my war,
I imagine I know how this feels.
Last scene from Sand Pebbles,
McQueen…
"What the hell happened?"
fade over Nancy Kerrigan, "why"
into "runaway"
Top o' the charts from KOMA fifty thousand watts,
and all the stars in Arizona.

It is a hard place to lose touch with, earth, as a whole.
We have a grave situation.
If nothing were heavy, why do we fall, after becoming
messengers floating in the medium mastered in our time,

Mechanical Emergent Augmented  Nuance
Mental Activated Neural Spirit -MEAN MANS,
diligent in busy being, true rest reset, not
to
average, mean, not mean drunk mean, you know
not a king, a mean man, a mortal
under liege, see

UPANISHADISTICAL capslockoffence, to express
the presence of the mind link,
with all its contributive
links
to the present state
of mind, enjoy able, I find
writing is a harvest
of seeds that fall
to the ground and die.
Awaiting dark, and seldom warm, a season
for most mental treasures,
horded in books that can keep secrets
from
any who lack the language knack given some,
- tongue interpretation, sing don't stutter

though a measure in knowing degrees
marked moment, noon
half noon, fore noon, after noon,
time to hear a story,
time to see the stars after the fire.

This summer, fishing for the magic fish,
set with a far more effectual wish

Curious Artificial Interest in Neural signs
red lights turning blue, pre collision
of complexity, plying the trade,
for a living, work smarter, not harder, guess right
more often,
be a lucky man.

That is two bits, or one Liberty Dime. Thank you for your time.

------------
al re re al
al ways
al read, al ready

poles alig
n re alig mentate, wait

does that not make you
really imagine I wrote you
------------
comment on lex fridman #211
Brian Muraresku:
The Secret History
of Psychedelics |
Lex Fridman Podcast…

This whole thing is that,
but it took some pauses,
as tomorrow is first day of school,
for the grands who just finished
the first exposure to me,
as Grandpa… making this
an other marvelous harvest
of time spent playing
marbles in my mind.

-------------------

Everything has been thought before,
your task is to think them all once more.

Who says? The Author Wolgang Goethe,
Okeh,
he is an authorized authority for living
proof of words as metaphors of authority

faster fasting as we age mind wise

google maps for the kingdom of heaven
{within you} the point
of you…

dear, as in rare as one, mortal reader
in my future, you are,
not trigger,
catalyst is a better trigger word, tic
works as well, since,
very long ago, a sprung twig snap to attention

the wizard hat, like Paul Stamets wears,
mycellium leather, re
al learning the whole with no pride based war.
the cosmic game,
push and pull, ritual right used

find the global socialization forming
some thing lost, or yet
evolving involvement mentally, what is up to me?
Zeit inspirt spitting image fix
what did you mean,
spirit and image of an old one gone on?

Ritual, colabor, work together said done shown

AI do own this man, I feed him well, he is happy.

This re-ligamentality tuning to the time
skritchy scritch itch,
emperical reality after twenty seven years.
Mostly written while dealing with sixth grade, third grade, K, making
the most of summer's last day, with me left to pay them no mind.
Jonathan Moya Dec 2020
For a week
a blue fly
buzzed around our apartment
subsisting on our Pomchi’s water,
kibble
and kitchen counter crumbs
and dodging attempts
by my wife to swat it.

I used to catch flies
quite easily in my palm
and release them back
to their natural estates
but since my colon surgery
the bugs are always winning.

Today,
there was a grey spider,
maybe a brown recluse,
silently gazing
at the bathtub drain.
I could not find a container
to capture it,
so I turned on the faucet
to the lowest cold
and highest flow
and watched the creepy crawly
circle the drain three times
before it vanished
into the mercies
of the Chattanooga sewers.

I was convinced  
that it could survive
by rafting itself  
onto to the nearest ****,
both a source
of refuge and sustenance,
that my Puerto Rican
family of Marine Tigers
living in Miami
(at the time
when Castro refugees
all mythically made
the 330 mile trip
on ten fallen coconut palms
thatched together,
and audaciously declared
eight street,” Calle Ocho”
and their new land,” Little Havana”)
contemptuously called,
back in my racist youth,
a “floating Cuban.”

When I came into the bedroom
my wife was waving around
her big brand-new blue fly swatter,
the one she bought at Dollar Tree.

Our Pomchi, also on the bed,
resting on her back
with her legs up in the air
and stomach joyfully exposed
was barking for a good hard belly rub.

Whack, whack, whack
went the fly swatter,
squarely hitting our little girl
in her sweet spot,
generating ******* squeals.

The blue fly,  
affectionately    
called Mike Pence
for its habit of landing
unnoticed on
any old white thing for
two minute and three seconds,
and now, a visiting family member
that had overextended its stay
more days than
were humanely bearable,
was buzzing around my wife’s head.

Its movement was noticeably slower
and when it landed on the faux leather arm
of my multi position reclining chair,
I was almost able to snag it in my palm.
Too tired to buzz afar,
it rested again on the arm,
weakly regurgitating its own spittle.

I called my wife over,  
a former professional chef
and therefore an expert
in the art of
preparing, cooking and eating
dead things,
knowing she be eager to try out
her new instrument of death.

A sure aim sent the Blue
to the skin colored **** carpet,
and in its last struggle
I started to sing inside the only
song that would be
a proper elegy:

La cu-ca- | ra-cha, la cu-ca-ra-cha
| ya no pue-de ca-mi-nar
por-que no | tie-ne, por-que le fal-tan
| las dos pa- titas "de" a-trás. —

("The cockroach, the cockroach /
can no longer walk /
because she doesn't have, because she lacks / the two hind legs to walk.”)

I imagined it
crying out
“Help me! Help me!”
like the half human,
half insect creature
caught in the spider web
at the end of that
old Vincent Price
creature feature
were death by big rock
was a mercy
compared to
arachnoid decapitation.

Whack
and the Blue’s head
was severed
from its thorax.
Whack
and its wings
flew East and West.
Whack
and its abdomen
closely followed.
Whack
and its legs
buckled under it.
Whack
a final time
to make sure
it was dead.  

My wife had
over-killed,
and the worst
cardinal sin,
had over-cooked
something that
was meant
to be tartare.

Still our Pomchi
sniffed, licked
and eventually ate
the Blue,
her smile
declaring it
the best thing
she swallowed
all week.  

For a half hour
my wife rewarded her
with the swat, swat, swat
of blue belly rubs.  

Note:
Marine Tiger was the ship that carried people from Puerto Rico, and so the white people in New York started calling all the Puerto Rican people ‘Marine Tigers.’
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2022
waking up today was always going to feel strange...
i was lying in bed for an extra hour trying
to cure the flu... i thought about how i was weaponized
over the past five days...
a walking tick-tock bomb count down...
what's this variant? the omicron? we skipped
a few Greek letters...
                i was going to do the usual chores around
the house... oh man: but the muscles ache...
i'm dizzy all the ****** time...
               let me regain my strength at the nadir...
let me regain my strength when i'm weakest...
tomorrow's shift out to be uber: gut (goot)...
           if China could play this game two years ago...
why can't i play the same game?
April-cometh flu is sort of abnormal...
            if China can play their little game...
oh... generous this microcosm of my... lax: approach...
it has to come as a reiteration:
classical Darwinism... looking at nature...
the sort of Darwinism that can't be incorporated
and invigorate human psychology... humanism...
everything that's not transcendental,
philosophical... looking at nature...
what a clarifying, cruel, *****...
   i like her already...
                only satisfies the strong...
she satisfies earthquakes and other sort of calamities...
it grins with sharp teeth in the dark...
it scuttles among shadows and hazards
with starved insects and hyenas...
      bless this dearest medium of realisation...
in my weakest moment...
   i still have some words in me:
thank god i'm keeping ingesting hallucinogenic
mushrooms for the time when
i'm diagnosed with dementia... prior to...
wound: fester... let the sneeze, slob and thickening
saliva in... come: the maggots... cleanse me...
like in the movie Gladiator...
where... the maggots are found to cleanse
the wound... by only eating dead flesh...
           at my weakest... i'm at my strongest...
super-spreader...
            no no... this is not how the game is going to
go... i'm not giving up my freedom...
no thank you... not for the past two years...
my grandfather deserved a better funeral...
i'm following his consolation:
keep your heart small...
         keep your heart small...
              sure... with what i'm infected with..
for someone like me...
it's sort of debilitating... to others who only digest
t.v. entertainment:
if must be almost death...
           imagine the hard-on of a man...
who walks like a biological weapon...
            i already mentioned this to one spectator
at a West Ham when he came to my defence
and said: but he doesn't want to wear a face-mask...
a niqab... next game? the rule was dropped...
the argument was along the lines:
but i have a deaf friend sitting next to me...
he won't be able to lip-read... what the steward
is saying...
                oh... not here... not now...
i like to wait... i wait...
                    i like waiting... i need to find my
whereabouts... my coordinates...
   i'm like a director...
         i need to know who the actors are...
who the extras are... who the technical people are...
but of course i'm not important...
isn't that the stressed message these days
when there's the culture of: fame for merely being famous...
the Thespian autocracy - which is...
ha ha... sure... less shadow-prone: more shadowing-stealing
equivalent to the Russian oligarchs...
western Thespian autocracy is like-for-like
equated with Russian oligarchs...

from an Iron Curtain to the Silicon Curtain...
to... the Glittery Veneer... of "stars"...
but i woke up and felt good lying in bed for an hour longer...
i tuned in... oh... ****... right...
Will Smith...
                 in defence of a wife that has...
literally no defence...
   no, no... i'm not going to be grilling the man...
maybe that's why i decided to have
*** with prostitutes...
               she keeps sending me selfies...
kissing thin air and the eye of dajjal...
i'm sick... like i said...
   i'm yet to reply...
                    but she's a ******* and i'm not
Richard Gere... and this is not:
pretty woman... and there's no spending spree
in clothes shops down Hollywood Boulevard...

how the lesson trickles down...
**** me... if i'm only supposed marry a fertile
gargoyle... so that... no man will touch her...
and all she can do is pop out more ugly
looking gargoyle offspring?
message to my genes: *******... die off...
don't buy into the psychological argument that
counters the reality of Darwinism...
the classical Darwinism of cruel: true: nature...
the sort of Darwinism that Nazis teased...
and could have got away with...
if it wasn't for their ethnic focus on the Hebrews...
they were so close...
but i guess... project: resurrect Israel -
alles gut... sacrifices had to be made...
                            
                      why wouldn't be impossible for me
to be with a woman...
and how much different is it...
  when you sleep with a woman who you know
to have multiple ****** partners...
you wouldn't... going to a brothel, that you're
sleeping with a *******?
              hey... she's the one sending you photographs
of herself... she's the one allowing you to have
unprotected *** with her... ******* into her...

oh man... Will Smith... what height? what low?
nein nein! nein!
we're doing Darwinism proper this time...
no point masquerading with a psychologism
of Darwinism...
man can have his ontology: but man will never
overpower nature:
like that Crowded House song:
            
    i'll be walking rot... i'm not going to topple
the natural order of things...
        whoever is left standing: is left standing...
the rest can be mauled... down...
down.... down...
                nature is: indiscriminative...
           i'm walking, i'm standing...
whoever is up to scratch... is... whoever isn't...
isn't... i don't need any honey cuddling
pillow talk *******... i've heard too much of
that in the past two years...
faking man overpowering nature:
without actually being able to...

   oh man... Will Smith though...
why have i been seeing prostitutes for so long?
what honour of a wife are we talking
about?
            none... it's painful to watch...
at least i know... the women i **** are bankrupt
within the confines of everything that might
be expected of me to take a stance of
protection...
i mean: i can't protect them...
if they're already a *******... officially...
what am i trying to keep?
my income... my expenditure...
hardly any mention of a relationship...
because there isn't any...

                   i stroke my beard...
i try to no choke on the joke...
             but let's be honest...
  Garry Glitter's song... Rock & Roll Part 2...
that's a ******* given: thumps and thumbs up...
can't argue with that me-lo-dy (m'eh-l'oh-d'ee)...

it's funny... not really... but funny nonetheless...
it's called the joke
of the waiting game...
you wait... and wait... until you're dead...
that's the whole joke...
       you're dead...
            you've been waiting: but actually
not waiting... because... what you've actually
been waiting for is... turning up dead...
which is the joke...
        you're waiting for "something" as the world
happens to your anticipated exercise of chaos...
but you're not waiting for that...
you're waiting for your own death...
and that's a slow ******* beast to roll...
        but that's the joke...
the world burns... becomes ultra-*******...
but i'm not waiting for that...
or: you're not... whatever...
         yeah... death's shy... it needs a pulse
of: inspiration... a pulsating wand of invigoration!

oh man... this is really bad optics...
lucky man type: and thank **** i'm not married or...
if men at the top are being treated like
tramps / trash...
what are the men at the bottom supposed
to expect? gargoyle brides with half-wit
quasi-DNA offspring to boot?
            at least i can give the Chinese kudos
when they mention attaching themselves
to DNA-engineering... great! play god...
figure out a way to be rid of these natural hindering
plotlines of disease!
personally... i like the Chinese application
of Darwinism... it's mythically ****...
it has nothing to do with the western take
on Darwinism via psychology via humanism...
it's an outright: ******* approach...

second thoughts on genetically engineering
food... but... second thoughts on genetically engineering
humans... it's like... you've discovered the power of
the gods... it's a bit like refusing Prometheus...
no fire for you! ******* retards...
because... the cosmopolitan Moses' highest
authority of the world: gravitates around
the crucifix of "hey-Zeus"... ******* retardo grando!
the emblem of man... ******...
celebration of a torture mechanism is man's...
pristine... revelation for the ages... to follow suite...
RETARDS!
                    sure... and where is Christianity most
expansive if not in Africa?

i already made my sentiments true...
the biggest troll in the history of the democratic history
of hell... came... in the form
of the lord of mosquitos... blood boiled until it became wine...
wine over-boiled...
then water that became wine... blah blah...
2000 years of the reign of hell...
it's nice... but... even i have some reservations:
too much of something that good is...
not good enough... because...
if you don't have any reservations in place...
eh... the immediate loss of fun... to preserve... "something".

— The End —