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Mateuš Conrad Aug 2018
.bacon doesn't exist in Polish cooking... podgarle... the under-neck meat of a pig... or just plain lard... rather than olive oil... 1 onion per 1 scrambled egg... paprika and lots of garlic... and definitely some cayenne pepper... certainly more onions than eggs, scrambled... and definitely using animal fat... to fry it on... hell... if vegetable fats are so healthy... why is there a term for the vegetative state of immobility of an otherwise animate being?

****! not against Norwegians...
what the **** am i saying?!
spotted one vegan girl...

              pork head terrine...
slavic version of
the Scotch haggis -
      
                 omnivore -

        you eat what?
i eat anything that, once upon
a time, moved...

                i've actually fallen in love
with a fetish that i circumcise into
a lobster...

  i want to eat a lobster...
chicken bone marrow isn't enough...
i want a lobster...

              i want to taste the foods
that could cure me of
ever wanting the 72 virgins
promised by Islam...

    instead? i want the feast
of Belshazzar...
to begin with...

i don't like bacon...
i prefer prosciutto...
   i haste bacon... it's too crude...
too anglo-saxon...

i hate the stink of frying it...
******* hate it like
a Muslim....
    prosciutto? different story...

and i hate ***. sushi...
smoked salmon,
and raw herrings in cream dill
sauce?
   or with pickled cucumbers
in a cream sauce?

thumbs up...
i'll only eat sushi,
if i take a knife in public...
and eat it with a cut up lemon...

raw lemon and sushi?
i can do that...
                  but i need a bench,
in a public space...
and a knife...
                      i can stomach that
sort of sushi,...
but? scotch smoked salmon,
of the Baltic king,
namely the herring
in a creamy sauce...

you come near me with
that ******* about calorie
intake?!
  i'll tell you to stomach
a ******* rhino!

               not here, not now...
    i don't like the sort of impoliteness
of people who do not eat
the other person's food...
****** me off...
eat the food, **** the turban!
i said! eat the food, forget
donning the turban journalistic
opportunity!

****-wits!

               the food! the food!
eat the food!
you don't eat the food?
you might as well be donning
a donkey's **** on your heard,
thinking it a Sikh turban
on, your 'ed...
you, *******! ****!

eat the food...
   is it me, or having watched
channel 4, in England,
finding the English people
overtly picky about
the food they eat?!
you figure that one out?
they're picky... don't you think?
picky as if half of them are
allergic to nuts!

             ah...
but the English want to both
entertain the food, & the clothes...
       goodie ol luck!
      
the "thing" you've had,
prior to 1945?
you're not getting it back, forget it!
i too remember Tony Blaire
ensuring
Hong Kong was a
revival of the ancient Greek
city-states...
        
                 love the diet...
            too bad i eat the rare,
most decent architectural pieces
of pork...
     like the head,
meat + cartilage + fat + sclera...
   in a terrine...
   yummy... ******* yummy...
      
      what else?
chicken hearts broth,
chicken stomach broth...
    cow intestines broth...
   pig liver sauce...
         czernina...
   duck blood soup...

                   the Semites
and the Arabs can have
their Kosher and Halal rites...

we? the people of the north?
we have the economics
of the purity of a slaughtered
animal...

unlike the Semites?
we use all the bits,
best for frying or worst for the broth...

which segregates us from
Golgotha and last supper poetics,
Semitic poetics,
of invigorating a stance
for the...
     transmutation of human
flesh, subsequently the
        refusal of pork,
but somehow normalizing cannibalism;
Rabbi?
  how about? NO!
NO!
   i rather eat pork, curated
to Italian standards of smoking...
i will not eat the filth of the *******
catholic Eucharist!
   no chance in hell!
the Semitic critique of pork
is my critique of the... "bread"...
you eat it!
    i'm not eating it...
now? sheave the silence,
   and the lamb...
      oh yeah... i'm anti-semitic -
against one Jew... hey-zeus christos!
Àŧùl Oct 2016
Except for the Nobel Peace Prize,
Which carries a hefty prize money,
No other Nobel Prize is given by the rich Norwegians,
Presented are the rest by the Swedish,
And the Norwegian award just the Nobel Peace Prize.
Alfred Nobel had died in the guilt,
The guilt of inventing such death.
HP Poem #1196
©Atul Kaushal
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2018
.too dumb, it would seem, to evolve into a bilingualism, but then... somehow, miraculously, able to dictate censoring the origins story, while at the same time dictating a counter to identity politics, while simultaneously working around a trans-grammatical feud with: what's involved in the geographic region of donning underwear... well **** me! so the atypical English man, who's turning into a complete and utter, ****... allows me to smoke a cigarette in the street... but has a problem with me smoking on my private property?! has a problem with me being bilingual calling me a schizophrenic?! but he doesn't mind a Pakistani grooming gang from operating in the north of England?
look who's looking for some long lost allies? not me! there's so much i can do to integrate... but i can't just, erase, a knowledge of a language i said my first syllables MA MA in... you be the pretty boy... English, man... learn a second language, or keep your ******* on a tight leash! because i'll fight... i'm actually hoping for  fist fight... after i put out cigarette stumps on my knuckles? i don't care about winning or losing... i'm a sadist... i enjoy pain! no, you don't get to tell me to erase the tongue i said my first syllables in... teach a **** to fry you a battered cod next time!


so... the idea of integration
is fine...
while i'm some ****
instrument of insurgence?
but not when i'm a ******...
who says...
sure...
i'll learn your language...
your ******* tongue...
i'll learn it...
i'll even learn to practice the profanity,
much agreed upon,
of eating fish & chips
on Friday night...
    oh you're ******* pushing it...
you're pushing it!
you want me, to,
forget, ever speaking,
a single word,
of my native tongue?!
WHAT?!
you have to be ******* with me
right now...
you, expect, WHAT?!
WHAT?!
    how about you get off your
lard greased *** and learn a language
yourself?
guess why Western, your
so prized Western Europe
is experiencing a migrant crisis?
ever heard, how...
Belgians speak better English
than the natives?
  it's like they have
an imbedded
        coercion with the English tongue...
**** me...
they must have conquered these
lands prior!
the Norwegians speak better
English than the English!
wait... or **** on me...
vikings! it must have been the vikings!
guess what...
why do the migrants do not come
to "eastern" Europe?
well done,m sport...
just shy of the Urals
in terms of a geography class...
you want an: east is in the east,
and the west is a vaguely defined term...
whether in Copernican
terminology or, otherwise...

no, ******, i can dance dance dance
like a can-can ponce all night long!
i'll do it for free to boot...

no, the English people didn't vote
to leave the European union
with a fear of the Turks...
former colonies...
these wankers hated the notion
of the A8 coming over...
they doubled down
on Romania and Bulgaria
joining the party...

  the Turks were never the problem...
plenty of Turkish shops,
and god save the barbers to boot!

good for the "eastern" Europeans...
not speaking a *****-tongue
of English...
            they only arrive on the Western
shores because.
English?
         pristine... perfected even...
outside the confines of these,
**** grand isles of beauty and
perfection...
         and don't mind if i do...
shock multiplied by awe,
whenever a school trip took place...

the Belgians speak better English
than the actual English...
and have a diacritical neutrality
to boot...
         well **** me!

                      ain't that, something?!
no... English isn't a secondary
language necessary
to be spoken in a nation that's
past or south of Berlin...
  no necessary...
          the usage of English is,
a gateway "drug"...

but if the English, "think",
that i'll be properly integrated
into their culture,
while: speaking their native
language and respecting their culture
and whims is not enough,
and that i'll have to forge a pact
with myself to forget or rather,
erase the language i was born with?

how are your matriarchs of
Manchester doing?
  why do i ask?
   i'll sooner cut my **** off and
then **** on it...
before i speak a word of English
in my household,
or for that matter,
"integrate" by erasure...
  
  you best be ready to cut my tongue out...
which is why...
how can a Welshman be
deemed an esteemed creature
of kept pride...
if he doesn't speak a word of
the "hiding" tongue?
the Belgians speak a better English
than the ******* English!
whether or not they still
retain speaking Flemish is beside
the point...

               what cause for whatever there
be a need to make, a cause,
if the Welsh are not speaking
Cymru,
and the Irish are not speaking Gaelic?!
you don't make an argument
in a language that
has left Europe's west flank...
******* its way through
being easily speakable,
and semi-integrate-able;
thank god the majority
of the Polacks do not speak,
even a majority riddled
tourist majority English...
   and they don't...
even in places like in Warsaw...
it's like banging
their heads against
a brick wall when it comes
to the Muslim, wealthy tourists...
no hope in sight...
but no...
i will rather retain my native
tongue,
and respect the culture of
the English, than allow myself
to "forget" my native tongue
of Urdu... let's say...
and then turn around,
and abuse the native culture....
calling it... debased...
no!
you don't come against my
tongue, and then expect
me to remain neutral...
    but if you do...
you come, dictating what the rules
of integration are?
i'll be there...
telling you,
where you went wrong...
not everyone likes
the culture that England
entertains...
but everyone likes
a citation using the English
tongue, with however
horrid diacritical disorientation...
and i will give a part of me, up,
to, "integrate"...
take my language away?
you might as well blind me
and cut my tongue off...

   no... i'm telling you...
smarten up...
  how about you learn a second
language?
rather than discriminating
against bilingualism like
it's a schizophrenia?!
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2015
sensible history begins with a, b, c, x y z... it doesn't begin with the lascaux cave paintings... that's hardly an attempt to make the gazelle cryptic from 3d to 2d... we're talking making human history beginning with encryption... modern day programming... and with the birth of a - z is the beginning of human history... the limb of darwinism categorising us in the simplicity of animals lost... it won't work otherwise asking for artistic comparisons... i'm talking the lost effort to show how we started to think, for we started to forget the lascaux representations as the vector of direct articulation... to the representation of the vector of indirect articulation, until hitting the brick walls... the kantian a priori e = mc squared / tetragrammaton... which no monkey could have originated with in that robinson crusoe story without the beginning of the onomatopoeia ooh ooh rub the belly tap the head eat a banana: words are the x-rays of images.... at least the chinese ones were animate... and the latin cain & abel were simple.... originating in the musicology with the sire - lessened. western europe sang; eastern europe fudged a wolf pack in the **** segmentation of the full throttle of curses via retina dilated for the full pleasure of culture. there was always the korean quirk-fest with the south, it was always a question of the north... i almost jumped  the bandwagon of chi and complex phoneticism in the complex usage of mongol-anglo correctness chi via sire... to make 仁 (ren / jen) as simple as apple to distinguish lactose from fructose; tell me latin was as simple as hebrew and mandarin as complex as xylophone notation.... where the former was atomisation and the latter compounds with one identifying 26 sounds and the latter identifying 26,000 nouns / images.*

so... so you get to repeat yourself
from tokyo to las vegas?
fascinating, the classic crowd pleaser,
and the loss of rivers constantly
winding with the coordinates (0,0)...
well here’s one from the z-axis... harps of the snooze
will govern the surveillance parameters
of attempted anonymity of that “return to” state
prior to being the same in the global framework persistence
of advertisement and charities;
after all... just a bunch of mongrel dogs ******* your leg
with unexplored narcissism due to acne.
ah yes... the fame part of translating a hiatus into
an existential haiku of creativity;
well, we can't beat the chinese or the blue indians
on this... they might only write poetry in the form
of haikus... but there's a billion of each!
the red indians are a zoological specimen / white man
erasing them due to the cuisine of scalp ******* baked goodies...
no, but seriously... there are about 4 million norwegians,
and there's a book out there that a tenth of norwegians have...
poetry in large building blocks of man
provide scarce poetry... haikus... the narrative is cherished
with taxes and caring for grandparents...
it's **** beside that... i mean, didn’t the cavity of
taking photography undermine out photographic memorisation
of things? there’s no memory to think about with a photograph.
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2020
i can't imagine a better maxim for a marriage:

   when both of you are young...
and... instead of being
these "star-crossed lovers" -

with a rubric
                  of the thwart(ing)...

to marry: when both are still in love with life...

                    from a nation-state into
the ***** of a diaspora...

what a fine word...
   the mass-influx of hyping around
the otherwise, fake:

       migrant workers...
like the current argument for
british sovereignty:
we will not have any of the bureaucracy
from Brussels...
but, we, will! have...
those romanian fruit & veg pickers!

it's hardly a joke:
more like a choke...
                    what's the difference between...
leaving one part of the country
for another: part of the same country...
and then... being daring enough...
to leave the country: thoroughly...
and have to learn a new language?

dual-citizenship...
go back? stay here?
hmm... i'm not really fond of speaking
or writing in ******...
the germans dissolved...
the russians too: dissolved...
i'm pretty sure that language can
remain intact... as it is...
under the law & justice party...
once they focus on the breeders
with tax-free incentives...

Chicago! what a fine diaspora hub
for the ****** "expatriates"...
good thing i never made it to
h'america: in stripes...

the friends of my youth...
most of then? crimminals...
        the nicknames we had for each
other:
i remember being taunted as being
an... "angol"... because my father wasn't
their father and wasn't part
of laying down the foundations
of "bones" for the dockland light railway...

i left a nation: still in its infancy...
and to its infancy i will drink!
but as a language: not a people...
not a geographic location...
a metaphysical manifestation:
if the word be a faustian signature...
yes, my lord... i see the pinching
itch of the natives squandering it...
like it should not have been...
a frederick hohenstaufen II experiment
in a nunnery on Sicily...
mute children... raised by nuns who didn't
speak: pretending...
to see... what language was genesis primo!

my allegiance is to the tongue...
it might allude to the fife and drums...
but dealing with the rascal
who deems...
that god save the queen be treated
with irreverence...
i'm not as daft and yobbish to glare
with a hydra giving birth to an extension
of its neck-load girth...

give me! the british grenadiers' fife & drum...
and i'll show you le marseillaise!
i have long ago pledge my allegience
to the tongue...
              
because? well... to be honest...
under all the supression from the...
(a) herr meisterstuck:
         the day:
        
        the prussians... "forgot"...
they were jumbled up with the lithuanians
as the last pagans of europe...
and then they decided: whatever it
was that they decided upon...

i hear some russian... i hear a down syndrome
person talk...
it's all lovely and sing-along...
but it's hardly by strict obligation
to the latin script... is it?
i have to nibble at pitty-worth jokes
to aid my...

diaspora: involuntary mass dispersion
of a population from its indigenous territories...
last time i checked...
i was born into a city famously known
for its practice in metallurgy...
i was the never-to-be grandson
of Die Krupp ambitions!
    i would leave my hometown and...
well... there was Warsaw...
or the... brain-drain train "elsewhere"...
from a nation into the grand...
vacuum of the diaspora...

except in england...
       the no. 303... most of which settled
in either Scotland or... Stratford-upon-Avon...
elsewhere... some other... "elsewhere"...

well...
   given that i have had had a choice...
ha ha! comma? sir?! that that?
      given that i have had - had a choice...
well... imagine... perhaps there's something
about Fwench... but i'm chosing sides...
it's not in Norwegian...
so... b'leh b'leh b'leh... b'leh...
                      
               i just have to borrow some german...
speaking this... hybrid saxon having
buggered enough afghanistan-esque brit druids...
the zeppelins were always dropping...
soap-bubbles...
          i tease oh god...
i tease... but this music is so... so...
oh so delight-ful!

                   die könig im gelb!

ah... to marry: when both are in love with life!
terrible affair: should... "life" somehow
matter: to disappear...
this love a suffocation for the best ****
they had in... ever...
and there's nothing of what life is concerned
with...
either children or... being infertile...
but to be in love with life...

the russians can't proclaim a diaspora...
then again: the "mafia"...
i've heard of an italian mob-esque...
      disposition... subsequent undercurrents
to boot...
an... irish mafia?
bothersome details...
         i still pledge my alliance to a Dickens
over a a Shakespeare...
because...
by chance... i might find some poetry
in the prosaic? by Shakespeare alone:
i'm... "expected".... aren't i?

bad news from York-and-the-shire...
Rotherham... and the... prefix ****-
   and the suffix -stani "debate"...
                   do you even know
how... let's not go there...
to term a bogus inconvenience of...

'what the hell is concerning you...
to fathom from cloud-9 a ****** notion of...
being out-bred?!'

an economic war... is a slow war...
it takes time...
it would take the amount of time...
to turn a once proud town focused on
metallurgy into rubble...
some stayed... some moved to warsaw...
some... played: a joker hand de facto...

i am: this... subtle... p.s. curiosity...
had i only come to breed...
rather than to otherwise...
nuance... allegiance...
zu die zunge?! alles!
             die menschen?
                     jeder seine haben!
             die schwach wind und der flagge?!
ist: die schwach wind: und der flagge: nein?

perhaps there's a stressor
of impetus in german that's not allowed
in english...

     ich bin hier für die sprache...
              
it must be translated... such it being:
oh such a wonderful... phrase...

   to marry... when both... are in love... with life...

zu heiraten... wenn beide...
                           sind im liebe... mit leben!

art-*******-and-funky-funky...
parsley-sage-rosemary-thym­e...
        what? thyme? there's a phi or a theta
to posit... instead...
you took the Dubliners' route of: paddy...
tad... and toink!
                'ucking scoundrels!

i will call... the greek-chinese ideogram...
I(ota) the key... and... "thereabouts"...
a keyhole of O(micron)...
it's an id: representation...

                 squashed: yes: 0... for better...
"graphics"...
    
to be young... and to share a half of both:
of being in love with life...

       Φ = the key enters the keyhole (I, O)...
    Θ = the key is turned... (Io)...
         Ψ = the door is opened...

        enough... Beijing "abstract" concerns...
for anyone?
       what's the abstract of rotation?
                                   oh... i guess: 'micron!

so much for abstracts as: only from boing-boing-xin...
some letter can qualify to be
apprehended in ideograms...
B - bossom or a fudge-yeast-byproduct
of a full ***...
              etc. or... Φ, Θ, Ψ...
       now by adding the brackets...
and time has a geography...
from the height of mythology...
to the depths of journalism...
that's... a vector:  (Φ, Θ, Ψ)...

     it's a key... a door... a keyhole...
                            an opening... n'est ce pas?!
hey! let's complicate it further
with: mr. squint... chop-sticks...
dragons... live vermin sushi...
    and counting dry grains of rice...

i'm not: Česlav Miloš...
to begin with... Czesław Miłosz was...
a Lithuanian...
because Copernicus wasn't ******...
"because and because"...
                     sides... all this talk of:
"allegiance"...
**** it... it's a cosmopolitan allegiance
to... the commonality of tongue...
shared to the point...
when... old fictions wrestle with me
and i'm confined to my own cubic...

for english is a language i can
entertain...
allow... yes... this parasite can erode
its host's cranium und...
                                  grauangelegenheit...
it was never... so imposing...
as a german tongue or a russian tongue...
therefore and thereby?
      an easily qualified tongue-donor
with the expanse of thought:
a complete and utter brain-drain on...

now...
there's a difference...
the english will not know it...

there's the nation... and there's the diaspora...
can the english... claim h'america...
or canada... or... australia...
as a nation-extension toward the confines
of a diaspora?
no... i don't think so...

that: quintessential inconvenience of
being merely: english...
   more prone to a local geography...
a devonshire... a derbyshire...
               someone of york...
  lost in new york...
                    a people with...
an imploded seance of diaspora...
    from the humble little island...
to: whatever fraction that was supposed
to make one impose on...

had i just been Irish... and "somehow"
forgotten my Gaelic...
or been that Welshman and no longer
with any Cymru...
well then...
but i come willing because...
      beside the mother and father...
the maternal grandmother and -father...
who will i speak my "native" and "mother"
tunge / zunge to?
          
i rather imagine marriage:
as when both of them are in love with life...
and in love that being said:
a little tale o' whittle england:
make it big in h'america...
        
         this... the most complete...
antithesis of a diaspora...
                    or rather: what lingua franca
was... and what l'inglese is...
and how: even if arabic tried...
and even if: mandarin would hope for...
well... hardly...
jackie chan kung fu and muhammad:
english is more popular than islam...
**** it up: camel jockey!
oh sure... they're "muslim"...
conflicting opinions... once:
speaking in english "arrives"...

                   i'm here: to turn up the volume...
because... i might as well have been
born in estonia... and speaking... estonian...
and never having left estonia...
been very much happy for the euro
and the... thumbling russians... somehow...
"retreating"...
well... if the russians are retreating...
they're: trying to revise being
an indo-european mongrel with...
accents of scandinavia concerning
the founding fathers of Kiev...
and them being russians:
what the hell do we do with the ukranians...
and the mongols that settled and became
tartars?!

yeah... the russians are on the retreat...
    this little island that... hopes for a diaspora...
instead... shuckles...
it has to settle for a h'american empire...
an australia... a new zealand...
ogh! mein! gott! no expatriate diaspora!
no tea with mussolini typo excursions!
mein gott! v'er vill youz goez?!

         zee f'ikkin moonz?! on a sputnik flarez?!
light up baboon *** numero uno:
then whisper among the fwench...

yes... very much brilliant...
         to be alive... and to marry so young...
and be helped: so young...
and not be thwarted...
   'coz crazy bunnies had the best ***...
great: to be alive, so young,
and married: and married to each other
and at the same time: having life marry you
to love it: to be together and married
to a love for life:
and... just... somehow...
having a co-dependent... of reciprocated
self-interests...

                            even in poland...
a soviety satellite...
with concrete chicken-shacks... ah yes:
that... "once upon a time"...
better the ******* state as my landlord
than some grubby liquorice ****** 3rd party:
libertarian "full dislocusre of mammon's
expression of par-tay"... sort of *******!
give me the state, the grey-suit and the gimps!

or? shackle me up for a stipend
working the sloughterhouse...
to boot... a house filled with 20 dobermans...
and 5 rottweilers...
i'll slaughter your cows... for the steak chops...
as long as i have the dogs to cuddle
and imagine myself doing the greater:
cosmic-karma-good...
the dogs... the harem of dogs...
no... women need excuses...
the dogs!

                 hell... a woman would require...
anniverseries... flowers... pinnace for a tsunami...
crumbs... what's a loaf of bread?
details... something to be minded as:
once being a plughole...
blah blah... hands for cushions...
        
              plus... women can't drink...
let her everything else: apart from the whiskey...
if she really wants to drink...
tell her to sober up on some Stendhal or
some Balzac... but don't let a woman
try to outcompete a man drinking...
she can drink...
but not... in that most... ugly: crab-feast
of... "detail"...

the english man... england...
h'america, australia... new zealand...
oh... wait... you were hoping for a diaspora...
weren't you?
yeah... clearly i didn't find an affair of
the imitation of greece...
took charge of the latin script...
inverted the mediterranean sea...

i speak your language: doesn't imply
i've shed the "ethno-nationalist" tattoos of "d.n.a."...
for a people to have made it bitter...
with the teutonic order over access to the baltic sea...
what's the baltic sea?
it's like the black sea...
the baltic sea is about as useful as...
well... the danes and the norwegians
held the toll and price of passing...
just like the turks or the byzantines held
the key of the bosphorus...
the baltic... is a "sea"...
just like the black sea is a "sea"...

did you know... there's a caspian sea?
yeah... it's a "sea"... more like... a lake would
be so much better...

the english could be akin to the arabs
from 200 years ago...
instead: sitting on a tonne of salt...
and waves...
and open horizons...
while the arabs sat on camel ****...
sand... and dinosaur juice...
and materialistic leprosy and limp-****
viagara palm tree impromptu...

sure... the lottery ticket of the past,
oh the most glorious past times...
        nothing lasts forever...
       so it seems...
            here's me celebrating Dickens
to the last... breath... because...
keeping up with speaking my native
language: when there are no
prussians, no russians...
           no austro-hungarians...
and there are only...
ukranians and lithuanians readying
to guilt-trip me over the failures
of the polish-lithuanian commonwealth?!

in this language i can...
ale... nie... w... tym!
SG Holter May 2014
I found -in the shadow of a
Crane rigged and ready- that
I couldn't help myself.

Took a ladder to the huge sphere
Of chipped and battered iron,  
And threw one leg on either
Side of the chain.

Sang leaning and rocking
Into the walkie talkie
As my foreman spat his
Coffee not to choke; laughing along
With Swedes, Polish, Lithuanians
And Norwegians alike.

Miley. Bringing people
Together.
Andrew Duggan Aug 2018
Dear State Counsellor.

Once I saw you as an icon of morality.
A bastion of hope.
A ‘dancing peacock’ in a troubled world.
Some called you the ‘midwife of democracy’.
Others an ‘Oxford housewife’,
a peacock ready to show its eyes.

But now….

The Children, babies, women and men of the Rohingya
are butchered, ***** and murdered by your
soldiers as you read poetry to children.

And the rest of the world stands by waiting for
the Norwegians to take away your Nobel Peace Prize.
Another sense of justice, lost again.

The working hands of the Muslim men in Rakhine
are tied by the Buddhists, the lovers of peace.

Their guns gleaming and your army standing by.

“It wasn’t us” say the Generals
“It was the Buddhists”.

But of course we have seen this before.
At Srebrenica, Nanking, My Lai and Auschwitz,
until the gas came.

And the world stands by.
Another failure, another genocide.

Now, as your military load the death carts
and bury mothers next to their children.
The Buddhists place flowers on the mass graves.
And I call for you and your ‘men’
to be accountable for those burnt by the sun.
Arcanus Sep 2015
Adolf ****** was really quite a chap
He made those Froggies eat a lot of crap;
And he made all those Norwegians
Look like a load of paraplegians.
He marched into Poland with his troops
Into their pants those Poles did poops.
He made short work of the poor old Greeks:
And in their pants they did big keeks.
Killing the Jews was oh so bad and cruel:
Burning them up for harsh winter fuel.
But invading Russia was a bad place to go
And the Nazis froze in the cold and snow.
The Yanks were frightened to join in the war:
They were **** scared of what they saw;
(they only got involved when the Japanese
brought the Pearl Harbour fleet to its knees).
Only the Brits stood resolute and brave
For Churchill was an inspiring knave;
He fought Adolf on the shores and beaches
And the Germans crapped their leder-britches.
So what is the lesson of these facts from history?
Not ****** much - what a ******* mystery.
I await your words of praise and other comments too.
jackierutherford Feb 2016
Trinidad and Tobagonians
Haitians
Egyptians

Mexicans
English
Liechtensteins
T­urkish
Italians
Norwegians
Germans

Portuguese
Omanians
Tromelin Islanders

Orcas Islanders
French

African-Americans
Maldives
Ecuadorians
Romanian­s
Ice Landers
Chinese
Argentinas
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2016
well... i know how you love to be made expectant with psychological premature ******* of ideas, other than banking, banana tweaking ****** the bendy part? i was asking the ****... is that Croatian **** in Korean? elevator blues, diarrhoea... welcome a suburb of Saul and we'll have Bangkok for jokes... did she just squint her eyes at me? hard to tell... squinting in Asia is like killing Jews in German occupied Poland, December in Krakow, is that snow or Auschwitz ash? see how poor the joke is, even with English black humour? Monty Python seems more like Benny Hill right now - i too love kids, preferred their limbs on toothpicks with Kentucky glace dip sauce... but you said: cheap Romanian, so i said: alright ******, you go back to the construction site, we'll send the Irish concrete layers home, we'll send the polish plumbers and the roofers home, we'll send the german installers of glass home...  how many office worker in this country would like to work in the outdoors? **** me, given facebook, instagram and twitter, gucci and the new **** of the fashion industry, revisionist capitalism and solo brands... um... about...  none;
they won't exit Europe, they're not as evolved as the Swiss or the Norwegians, sure they have the 0, 0 coordinates of Darwin, a starting point, but that doesn't mean they're Swiss or Norwegian -
well sorry, but that's how it stands, i'll be happy to send
the Romanians and the Bulgarians and the Poles home... can we dismantle the Shard while we're at it? it's not supposed
to be here... i don't blame the Russians feeding a father-role for
Putin, the anonymity of western democracy just gets to me,
i get ****** over by anonymous poker players, gamers, prior to computers we had a different sort of gamers, call them retards,
call them nerds, they're one and the same; they think they read
novels having recited maxims of the plot to perfect Italian choir of
an operatic - it really doesn't matter, i'll just bunch-up together
a few ******* to build me a castle like in the old days,
and it'll just be a sweet sixteen William IV in the Encyclopaedic enclosure of former economic dynamics of who boxed,
who rapped, who played basketball, who sprinted against Adolf,
while the natives lost the plot in zoological enclosures
and the hybrids invented souls to counter such
enclosing.
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2017
that's it! i've had, enough!
english existentialism is crude, too crude
for my liking -
  it's a comic book script -
and a ****** mess -
  it obliterated history, it obliterated
yesterday, and sure as ****:
it will obliterate tomorrow -
my turn: to obliterate today.
the english, i find: really don't like reading -
unlike the russians -
i read it once: the russians read,
as if their life depended on it...
while europe was expressing its fine
details and sorrow:
the english were in a sleepy state
of blakean lullaby...
   yes: but at least the icelandic people:
are not ****** pompous about
their natural borders beginning
with S and ending in E;
   i mean, it's no wonder sometimes -
given the current climate of digested
literature,
       i'm sure there are no mature readers
in england, or at least: i've never met
one! adults reading harry potter without
any sort of shame,
      the lunatics will lead the blind,
and young with old souls will dupe
the young with... young souls...
just like the old play games with the young:
the most unusual perk of being old:
fake it... and then turn into
a eclair surprise of sucker-punching
  a youth, while performing a zui quan
punch...
   absolutely no existentialism,
everything's so ******* egalitarian...
when it's not,
   ants in your pants
        your shoes are on fire...
double-faced liars...
     i mean... the only existential points
of interest in english existentialism are?
somewhere along the line of
evolutionary "chronology" -
   and the big bang...
i still love the interplay of these four
words:
          bang (a) ******* hole...
cat's out of the bag, can't him back in,
ask schrödinger to bring a few boxes
from the store house...
  in the meantime, we'll also build
a cardboard box castle we'll call home,
then put everything on social media
and then you can have what i already
suggested:
  people living in the already present
glass houses, reached a new zenith:
       glass people, living in glass houses.
the english have no existentialism,
  they got the bore-ism,
    much cartoon fakery and all that
techno whizz kid jazz...
    no wait... there's one good example of
"existentialism" -
but it's treated like a footnote...
  even though it's in a collection of works
that also includes camus & marcus aurelius...
william hazlitt's: on the pleasure of hating;
and to be honest? that's about it.
i'm just bored of: this is not objective
enough... what, so detach myself from
subjectivity and argue like a psychopath?
that's what you're implying!
i can say with calm 2 + 2 = 4...
but if i have to say some complex
arithmetic... i will either brood over it,
pensive... but at the same time:
i know i am prone to some sort of frustration!
but at least both can be deemed healthy
reactions...
     now ask for the psychopathic maxim,
yes? what is it?
   apathy breeds no pathology...
see, psychopaths are oblivious to emotions,
they have cool arguments,
  if you mentioned a "necessary"
distinction between subjectivity being
"negative" and objectivity being "positive",
they'd reply: i can't tell the difference:
oh, you mean the thrill of argument / act?
i can't give that away.
the germans had existentialism,
   the norwegians have it, the swedes had it
with ingmar bergman,
the poles had it with krzysztof kieślowski,
the russians had it, heavens!
even the french had it!
esp. given that we're still trapped in
the caveman existentialism extending from
darwinism...
   i'm not a caveman... i go to a cafe and drink
coffee, i'm tired of hearing this biological
history ******* without civilisation...
there's a reasonable cut-off point,
   there are reasons why you cut off pieces
and live in the present...
esp., oh boy... a video like this,
entitled: why women pass up good guys for
players...
honey, that "question" just flew past my head,
can't think why, nor will i,
  i've seen a few prostitutes to wonder
about a "why";
          mind you... upon that fabled plateau
of the ovarian desert: party's up...
guy's - make sure you've seen an
actual ******* first: it'll ease the blow
with regards to what you'll be settling with;
now, that doesn't get plainer english
as that.
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2016
summer's here;
   and so's my ****** poetry.

custard on skin, sweat, *******,

while others peacock
around, basking in the sun,
to the trance of Ibiza

or perhaps sloth in St. James'
park feeding mandrakes
and geese and swans

these sun worshippers
and their hotdog selfies on
beaches, sunglasses, molasses
and ice-cream -

i'm sitting among blank stairs,
like an alcoholic Aboriginal in
some desert town in Australia -
blank, nothing coming in,
nothing coming out -

the usual traffic of poetry in me
exhausted by summer, the one season
i'm like Mr. Grinch - the loathing
of the heat - with Sahara blowing
more than sand these days -

fruitless season: oh, but of course i
can eat a strawberry, a grape
a watermelon and whatever i wish,
a kiwi a mango, whatever,
but i just can't dig my teeth into
the page, like i can in winter -
with it's gloom and frost and grey cold.

like in Scandinavia - where they treat
their melancholic aura as the last
happiness, or a hidden happiness,
where it's not a medical condition
worthy of a chemical concoction -
much more than just
       pill after pill after pill -

the next pinch of airy salt that the cold is:
pinch after pinch on the face and the hands
as if plucking out feathers of a chicken.

summer's here,
and so the first summer thunderstorms,
yesterday the great stomach of
Ethiopia and Sudan descended over
my house, the rumbling of a stomach
of a thousand starving - thunder -
the great voice -
                             summer's here,
                             and so's my ****** poetry -

torden: stemme av eldgammel *hvisking
,

etymological observation working from
the Norwegian hvisking (whisper), although
similar, in Polish - obviously a letter or two
more, but the prefix hvis-

according to alexander brückner (Cracow, 1927):

 chwist, chwistać, chwis(t)nąć,
‘orzech próżny’, chwist w 15. i 16. wieku,
jeszcze u Reja, ‘błazen’, właściwie ‘aktor,
komedjant’, ‘mimus’; jak świstek (papieru),
‘orzech próżny’ nazywa się
r. 1472 gwiżdżem i malikiem (p.);

u czechów chwiszt, ‘świstak’;
tylko u nas i u Czechów istnieje to chwist,
chwistati, por. gwizdać
            i świstać u innych słowian;

my concern however is stressed in
italicised form,
he supposed that chwist- only exists
among poles and czech - well it doesn't,
it also exists among norwegians -
as already shown, with hvisk-.
JAM Apr 2023
gudarna avgudar oss.

"Eight Geats and twenty-two Norwegians
on an exploration journey from Vinland to the west.
We had camp by two skerries
one day's journey north from this stone.

[We] have ten men by the sea to look after our ships,
fourteen days' travel from this island.  
We were [out] to fish one day.
After we came home [we] found ten men red of blood and dead.“

“save [us] from evil."

A record of the delightful piece
They're going to play this evening

Ladies and gentlemen
Your attention please
And now, the moment we've been waiting for is here
I- I have something to tell you

Que sera, sera
Whatever will be
(Remember) Will be

The birth was like a fat black tongue
Dripping tar and dung and dye
Slowly into my shivering eyes

I might walk upright
But then again
I might still try to die

Never prayed, never paid any attention
Never felt any inflection
Never a lot of thought to life

"Che gelida manina,
se la lasci riscaldar.
Cercar che giova?

Al buio non si trova."

And yet From listening to records
i just knew what to do
I mainly taught myself
And, you know, i did pretty well
Except there were a few mistakes
But um, that i made, uh
That i've just recently cleared up
And i'd like to just continue to be able to express myself
As best as i can with this instrument
And i feel like i have a lot of work to do
Still, i'm a student - of the voice
And i'm also a teacher of the voice too

I believe in the future
I don't believe in miracles

Can it be true?!
It must be true, no doubt!

Life is going on as normally as ever
But suddenly something seems to have happened
Everybody seems to be staring in one direction
People seem to be frightened, even terrified

Some nights it just gets worse than others
Some nights, it just
Gets worse
I feel terrible
But what can we do?
I don't know
It's just, a feeling I've got
Like, something's about to happen
But I don't know what

I want everybody to understand this

"I don't understand"
echoes
"I don't understand"

There're a lot of things we don't understand either

Where do we come from, who are we
And where are we going
Eternal questions never answered

"We need answers from you
What- What did you expect to find?
What is going to be our future?
It- It's your responsibility to do something about it!"

Well, I, uh...
I have the key in my hand
All I have to find is the lock
Now listen to me, all of you!

I fly to the strangest lands

And i would like to able to continue
To let what is inside of me
Which is, which comes from all the music that i hear
I would like for that to come out
And it's like, it's not really me that's coming
The music's coming through me

The music's coming through me

It caught me so that I may never
rest from pwondarement;
I will drink life from the bees.
All tore-ments I have enjoy'd greatly,
have suffer'd greatly,
both with throwse that loved me,
and alone; on tear,
and when thro' thudding rents the cravy Haeades
Vent-teh-din-see. I am become a thought;
For all-ways growming with a hungry deadhead
Much have I heard and throwned—
poprieities of Brads and Janets
And spanners,
prime-hates, clowncils, reed-covernments,
Myself too.
threast, i am tonor'd of them all,--
And drunk delight of rattle with my tyears,
Far on the stinging pains of dramatic irony.
I am a partition of all that I have kept;
Yet all expeerientse is an ark
wherethro' gleams that unpondere'd mind whose margin craves
metaforever
and 'fore ever
when
eyes
groove

To see the wizard!

Wake up, the roughest
In the name of, birds fly
(the light, march)
Reach the wizard
Follow, follow, follow
-by league, birds fly

They move on tracks of never-ending light
Like neon beams
stardust

I see it when I look up at the night sky and I know
that yes we are part of this universe
we are in this universe but perhaps
more importantly than both of those things
is that the universe
is in us

And since we cannot escape mother nature
We attempt to placate it
Modern civilization stems from the simple act
Of placing seeds and plants into the ground
When the plants are ready for harvest
We invest so much time and energy in tending our plants
We must stay around to enjoy the fruits of our labor

we can hear her voice whimper,
as wind through leaves,
while we speak:

Cara bella, cara mia bella!
Mia bambina, o Chell!
Ché la stimo...
Ché la stimo.

O cara mia, addio!
La mia bambina cara,
Perché non passi lontana?
Sì, lontana da natura,
Cara, cara mia bambina?
Ah, mia bella!
Ah, mia cara!
Ah, mia cara!
Ah, mia bambina!
O cara, cara mia...

Mia cara!
Ah, mia cara!
Ah, mia bambina!
O cara, cara mia...

Orville and Wilbur
Cold cut the anchor's from their ankle
Carving propellers from whale fins
In the back of a bicycle shop...
And thus begins the tale
Of the thumb trigger cloud ****
At last the Wright's reinvented the horse with wings
Another invention only fit for a mannequin

And One by one the angels fell
Ode had sent a horrible plague of deaths
Why do you think that Ode would do a thing like that?

Well, You put a veil up when you
Took all your things underground
You covered your own footprints
So no one saw you hide
You heard Ode treading in the
Shadows of the sycamore
You turned to Ode and you said
"I will learn nothing from you"

And so it was that Memories burn
On the black and white horizon
Of your knowledge of
What was never said
you've had enough of the road
That was laid along beside you
Like a lover meant
For another bed
And so you left in the morning
And all that's left behind you
Are the fading frames
That you've got instead

And I tried to keep my distance as
Ode changed The Face again
Ode fakes direction so
I don't see where Ode could go
And in the panic I saw that
They had dropped a “note to self”
I picked it up and it read
"I can't learn anything new"

When you've had too much
And the weight of the expected
Has got you feeling introspective
Can I give you the perspective that you need?

Remember that language is power.

"I will, I will. I'll remember that"

Thank you, I'll say goodbye soon
Though its the end of the word
Don't blame yourself now
And if its true
I will surround you and give life to a word
That's our own

Order of the day to come
Thus the end, the ends
Darkest hour, obsidian
Cast of stone, the Night
With a slight of who not harmed
Hit or touched
What will be, the end
How come the rising sun
Matches still
In to gold, it holds
Comes the dawn, golden dawn
Darkness turn to day

I'll take you to the place where you
Come down and just react
To what you're about to see

Early time machine's
Will have tended to leave you
Left screaming
On a dinosaur's dish
In da Vinci's "Bike Accident'
An outerspace whodunit?
Monkeys play Magellan
As the next ex-Edison
Standing out in the crowd with a unicycle

Physics of a unicycle...
Twice the remarkable
Um, did a little little, um, did a lot
Someone's splitting atoms under flag barbed wire
Up in the sky where the war planes fly
Dead in the clouds, hear the God's cold lie
Um, did a little little, um, did a lot

You've had enough
Too much
And all you have collected
Is heavy with the taste
Of ambition misdirected
Bitter 'bout the pace that you keep

Well Good Ode almighty, all that other *******
Is here today and going tomorrow

'Tis better to have loved and lost,
than never to have loved at all!
Come cheer up, my lad

'el Da'
Qb'a'
Oh-kie
YIjah, Qey' 'oH
YIjah, Qey' 'oH

And When I have plucked the rose above
Whatever will be,
will be below
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2016
machina ex deus
         is contradicted by
            deus ex machina
                                     (the old familiar
                    sadist,
                                                                              or the old
             familiar
                                   ******* on the crucifix,
  for i fear this was the son of Golgotha's
        intention).

        but so is **** ex machina
  (man out of the props / machinery) -
                 strange, that it has to be so,
             to have made sadistic machinery
    with good intention in order that
             love and all the essence man strives for,
to be paradoxically placed
      in order to receive both praise, and blame,
            but so far as i can see:
machina ex ****
                                is just as sadistic
               machina ex deus -
  
        or as buddha said:
                            the middle, try the middle (path);
             what Tibet is to Asia
                           Israel isn't to Europe...
           but the Italians said it was so,
not beyond the island
              did they ascribe their "dominant" pressure...

          the snowy curtain stopped them,
it is truly a question
      of **** ex machina
                   as is the case of deus ex machina,
because both machina ex deus
                    and machina ex **** are diabolical
manifestations
                           of what would otherwise be
an impossibility -
                                where both would reign
          in the realm of the per se...
and it's unfair, and it's cruel,
                     and it's everything we wish to be told
as being untrue...
                                   but it is life, it is colour,
                    and of course there's an argumentative
mandate
                                    to criticise both parties,
               wouldn't we all wish
       to lounge
                               and exist without a single
determining, anguishing thought?
                                              were we truly born for
lounging or a horse's gallop?
                                     but as arguments go:
    for man to assert himself as a deus ex machina
is deeply flawed -
                                    as evidence: the man pits himself
against the mass and is duly blamed,
                                        since for our physical strife,
there the gods contemplate the strife they create
    and occupy a wholly thought-bound realm of our
          mediation - not this squabbling on hands and knees,
not that.
                       no philosopher squanders the concept of god
or dismisses the concept, you might say
               biologists are first to plunge into an atheism,
   while philosophers play with indivisible things
            that later read as: b o m b.
i believe that the machina ex deus and the machina ex ****
are infernal -
                                     the points that could be
made: but we can sustain life is simply a judiciary statement:
not the statement of the individual...
                    somehow the middle ground...
              out of the machinery of man
a god-like interaction,
                                              a lubricated assertion:
              do not do unto others as you do not wish others
to do unto you...
                                     and out of the machinery of god
          a man-like interaction:
               as Moses suggested: i was basically talking
to an ***...
                      the **** of a woman's gladly juiced peach
buttocks: flirting with a flutter away away away:
             if only i didn't make that moral judgement and
said what i think i said to be:
       me forget Egyptian princess, me return from what
didn't seem to be a fool's errand... blah blah blah.
                   well, ******-me-ginger, i'd done that too!
            higher calling, gotta wear the leash.
                        in mirror form:

machina ex ****                   sued xe anihcam        

                                    yhwh
                                     ^    ^
                                     a    e
                                     d   v
                                     a    e
                                     m

  well sure, even on Malta they call god Allah -
         we can safely say: it's just a question of a noun,
and it is, but certain orthodox Jews went a bit far
with censoring the word d-g     the devil and god
on a ******* ferris wheel - i'm saying: give me something
to work with, yeah? give me something to reconfigure,
a lament configuration sort of thing -
                               give me something durable,
a play-dough manifestation i can play with, look at
and reinterpreted (plus, lucky me, the Jews hide the
vowels, and their vowels are like diacritical marks on
Latin letters) -
                                 i can sing both Allah and Jesus Hosanna
*** bi yah in the churches, but i need thinking grit
for me to stumble against from time to time;
basically i need to make the evolutionary step in taking
a very secretive tribalism of nomads and speak about it
in a Roman Forum without banter;
            but i guess i'm doing that already.

well, i would argue further, but this form doesn't exactly
allow distressing narratives
         about the plight of Norwegians writing
an existential systematisation outside of novels
       (much to their comfort with their reading diet) -
         hey, hands in the air like i just don't care:
the machinery created by the gods is as much infernal
     as man's machinery to create states and society...
  successful, sure... give each side a Nobel prize for
acquiring a however-many galaxies there are
        and however-many Mr. Po's there are in China...
all that's bugging me is:
                  if a god emerged from the machinery of man
with the biblical narrative (however obscured by
Moses writing in Egyptian and writing poetry) because
those pyramids were never going to fly...
                       how was it that man emerged from
the machinery of god?
                                           well, that's a bit easy
    and leaves all forms self-serving acknowledgement
for cult-establishing permission in the air...
            don't know, don't care, Darwinism is to the second right,
             caveman is: turn around and walk until you
see a dodo
                                               and everything else
                     you might want to think of as your
own egocentric octopus offshoot is on parade:
                                                   it's moving, it's moving,
       it's speeding, crashing, farting,
                                                   hot-smoking alive...
         and then dead.
SG Holter Mar 2017
Spring love.
If either of us dies
Tomorrow

It will be in celebration of
Winter passing.
Spring smells nice.

Us Norwegians live by
The weather.
When the

Hair stays on her
Pillow we both
Shave

Like there's no
Tomorrow.
I spell "love" however

I want.
Death adores its
Favourites.

Life and
Love hold hands and
Walk. We walk a lot.
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2021
i shouldn't be writing this... it's too mediocre: or, rather: just ****** obvious... i have to elevate this impromptu with higher thoughts: this bottle of cheap wine just finished has given me a sinister, wry, teenage girl sort of a smile: where ha ha deafens since you're laughing inside your own head... it's hochnacht... only yesterday i raged with a silent scream... i'm not going to wake the neighbours up... when the writing flows freely and it feels good: once upon a time... the howling and the laughter... i have come to the realisation that i require restraints... the silence scream almost dislodged my jaw... a bottle of wine and i'm all squinty eyed... absolutely content, thinking about tomorrow's dinner... what will i conjure... well... i haven't had prawns in a long while... a prawn carbonara... 2nd bottle of wine or take the shorter route with a night-cap of whiskey? ah... decisions decisions... if drinking doesn't **** me: let's just say i'll be midly irritated: but most certainly disappointed...

this is the original:

at least while in Russian i didn't have to spend
the time bothered about totalitarian democracy...
mob rule... however authoritarian
the Russian model is... no political ambitions:
beside the ambitions to live a simple life:
political correctness: but i'm not a politician...
to live among people politicised to the point where:
every second person might be Babushka doll tyrant
with micro-pet-peeves:

i can't actually improve on it...
unlike drink-driving...
drink-writing is... jumbled up with:
the deed of Pontius Pilate:
i was my hands clean
i drown my tongue...
   the much needed lubricant i always claim:
plus... i can claim...
what's that legal term...
gross negligence?
         it's not ****** it's manslaughter...
i'm not going to stand trial:
by any mob...
i was drunk all the way through: me Lowd...
i could be held accountable
if i had a sober: hard-on for what i was
writing... perhaps i'm writing without
conviction... or rather: the drink allows me
to decorate my "conviction" with
floral patterns of digression...
i really don't see how someone sober
can treat a drunk's words seriously...
but it's there as a lubricant...
again: to reiterate...
writing is not driving a car...
i can't be held accountable on these
being sober convictions...

coming back to Russia...
well... hasn't democracy reached a pivot
of its history that makes it:
lacklustre?
democracy is status quo...
democracy is more bureaucracy than
   it was a democracy when the barons
came together and attacked king John...
it was a democracy
during the years of electoral monarchy
in the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth...
i veto: i never vote...
i tried once... but the paperwork
suffocated my interest to do so...
if everyone is involved in: "democracy"
then sooner rather than later
it degenerates into political correctness...
i'm not a politician: or for that matter
a rhetorician: why should i care what words
might: words get things done...
words allow being to do and be...
things will never be equipped with words...
i lie: i can arm a knock on wood
with a terrible onomatopoeia...
besides the point...

               in Russian i wouldn't expect to find myself
in a quasi-Stasi curriculum...
my fellow citizen leaves me: as i invite him
as suspect?!
that's not fair on the project: citizenship:
civility... oddly enough politicians are
hardly involved in matters that truly bother people...
wait... wasn't i supposed to recount
the *** i've had: let it drag out for a few
more entries before fizzling out
while i might return to my eclectic tastes?

all of a sudden... there's no: "oh... suddenly"...
that Walt Whitman reference...
prove your point...
that i once went to a gay bar with my cousin
that i allowed my *** to be groped...
that i allowed a man to put a tongue in my mouth...
that i have kissed men with tenderness:
of note... Ben... Tristan's friend from Bristol...
one night of all nights:
Hogmanay...              i'd steal pieces of Paris
and give it unto Edinburgh...
Paris first... Edinburgh second...
and there was St. Petersburg and Moscow...
Venice and Amsterdam... Stockholm...
Warsaw... Athens 3rd... because of the strip-club...
there was Barcelona and there was also Mombasa...
eh... Paris 1st... Edinburgh 2nd...

otherwise? oh... did you watch the France vs. Swiss
match? i missed the Spain vs. Croatia game:
i was watching some Whim-Bled-Don...
never mind...
it's good to see a plateau...
the ol' David vs. Goliath...
   or how... kylian mbappé became: fully human...
i don't like schadenfreude...
it must be a trait of the Germanic people...
even if they later dilute their blood with the Welsh
and the Celts and become Anglo-Saxons...
it's not that i fear: c.c.t.v. karma...
i just find pleasure in the sensation...
but it was beautiful to watch a talented,
aspiring footballer come against his first
proper: hurdle... like the rest of us...
almost as beautiful as the whole match was:
come on... after the missed penalty...
then 1 -1, 2 - 1, 3 -1... ending up being 3 - 3 and
unresolved in extra time...
then the roulette of penalties...
rarely can a football match be this: beautiful...
truly... as much as i love the soloists in
tennis... it's impossible to compare:
chalk is cheese... some might say...

- why are so many national anthems:
anaemic?
i only have a few national anthems that i like...
not via bias: the ****** Mazurek Dąbrowskiego...
the H'American: the Star-Spangled Banner...
Russian "The Internationale"
the French La Marseillaise
hell... thrown in the Shvabs
und zee Bavzarians with their Uber Alles...

oddly enough not the English anthem...
isn't it enough that Auld Lang Syne
beats all the above, songs?
i don't like international football:
sure... too much money in club sport
but i never want to feel as part of something
greater: bigger... not from the confines
of a football match...
no... sure: to be part of something bigger...
but not from the starting point
of a football match...
     i watch the game for the sake of it being
a game... how some people arrive at
a conclusion that it's a religion:
how they procreate and later
come to passing on their support allegiance to
club (let alone country) to their children?

well... something had to fill the void
if the original religion wasn't up for proper scratches:
so much for secularism...
i don't underestimate the value of said: new
religion... but we're still "talking" about sport...
hence my love for the underappreciated sports
at the Olympics: classical Greek wrestling...
table-tennis... archery...
and all the solo sports that also pay well:
like tennis...

bringing a flag of the individual to an event
should be seen as a faux pas...
it's a shame that it sometimes happens...

- yeah... why are so many national anthems:
anaemic... forgettable?
the Spanish and the Italians have ****** anthems...
suppose the Norwegians had a decent anthem:
oh, just because Norway produced a Grieg...
but Norway didn't produce a Grieg:
Grieg produced Grieg...
that's my problem with the lasso of:
national ownership of the people that stand out...
i'm not going to bombast this dear reader
with a quote by some ancient Greek philosopher
living in a city-state who was quoted as
saying: i'm the citizen of the world!

the current vicinity is my world:
i sometimes extend it when i cycle towards St. Paul's
cathedral...
how people become so... engrossed in their
football teams... that they pass on the banner
of support... allegiance to their children:
i don't think smart people reproduce...
i don't see the point of passing on my...
   shortcomings...
added the fact that i can entertain myself:
just pretty **** dandy well while...
seeing demon faces in clouds at night...

or faces in trees... pareidolia...
but they're not human faces...
i'd cite pareidolia  if someone accuses dear reader
of transphobia: whereas arachnophobia is
tingly: real...
well... what can one do:
if something is relocated into the crab-bucket
of shared-experience: a phenomenon...
anyone with a questionable sanity will
still pursue finding himself: his self:
via establishing working parameters of
the noumenon: the res-per-se... Kantian:
i wouldn't settle for a phenomenological
answer... i guess that' my "original sin"...

to state oneself unique...
not spaz-y'all... special...
  it's a conundrum to be and not be...
unquestionable dictations that repeat themselves:
like the years and the seasons that rummage through
them... the tides of the seas
and the burdens of earthquakes that
rumble like the sounds of a starved stomach...

i still fall asleep to...
christopher young's hellraiser II: hellbound
soundtrack most of the nights...
horror music: done proper...
the only romance...
the wine helps... he's no Prokofiev with
that Lt. Kije Suite... but...
i never seem to get bored:
i'd love to be this grand architect of dreams...
i fall asleep and fall into the abyss:
i'd imagine dreams to be...
             obstructions...
i'm almost glad since that one great adventure
of death is: tilting given the years...
i'm yet to make my own...
well... concerning the dead:
it takes nine months of mr. tadpole...
and several more to get memory functioning
before consciousness is arrived at:
memory comes prior to imagination...
memory is cinema:
a welcome cinema: if you can honestly account for
yourself:
the odd nights when you were found drunk
in public somehow don't matter:
asking for a police escort because you were
immobilised: m'eh...

ugh... such anaemic anthems...
of all the people in the world: the Italians have
an anaemic anthem...
a spaghetti bundle of murmur and morose...
how?

good to know: an interlude of a shot of ms. amber
between all that's: in vino veritas etc. etc.
in vino: vivo!
life: blood the bundle of hopes...
i might be deemed cowering into a corner
****** by shadows and succubus delusions...
i stated it felt cold while cycling through
the heat of cement of central London
wearing an 1813 t-shirt with a depiction
of the EISENKREUZ...

my ******* were hard and pinched...
it wasn't cold...
was i a breast-feeding ***** of a dog
or something?
i noticed a stare or two...
i started to blame it on the fabric...
later on the detergent...
how do we begin to fathom: dreams?
not the content of dreams: but dreams per se...
i have one memorable dream:
although i have so little...
running on an abstract that was a *****
while men imitating sheep were rolling down
chased by demons chopping their heads
off while i was... saving them from...
falling into the depth of nothing...

i was a teenager back then...
eh...
     so much for Freud and the altar of metaphor-objects...
insinuation-objects: or whatever the hell
you want to call a cucumber "if" it "isn't"!

- i know how alcoholics operate...
ooh! oh! suddenly the outbursts of "amnesia":
i call it a moral hangover...
they never bother to trace their deeds while
in the process of drinking...
what am i doing, while drinking?
i write...
i've seen at least one of my grandfathers
succumb to the drink without ever producing
some depth to his drinking...
unlike my father the near teattottle (****... 23
google result... tease me... add one more
obscure word...

teetotal on the topic of alcohol consumption:
well... it's probably genetic...
he had sleeper genes... the grandfathers worked
in the metallurgy industry...
not drinking would seem daft...
but seeing how my maternal gran-
managed to break my grandmothers hand...
most alcoholics will not account for their deeds:
drink and write: what drinker writes?
perhaps this is why i suspect all that's
ever written within the framework of
sobriety?

chevalier: mult estes guaritz...
i drink and listen to medieval songs...
why wouldn't you?
hell: if the moon is the right blue:
i'll swerve toward listening to an Adhan...

hey presto! teattottle rag... a googlewhack...
teattottle dig... another...

but i drink with accounts...
       i'm not going to... stumble into:
quasi-narcolepsy...
ingest some neuroleptic (anti-psychotic)
drugs: yes... yes...
the agitated soul (the sigma of animation)
disgruntled with a body: per se...
transgenderism can take a back seat
when it comes to: being disgruntled with
the body... eh... merely the focus on ***...
is... base... pointless...
the body is rock...
the mind is water... the posit for
consecrating oneself with animation is air...
gender-"confusion" is still bound to the quote:

to angels - vision of god's throne -
to insects - sensual lust...

to be this entombed with the ownership of this
carcass... to elevate ***-change therapies
over... cancer-treatment...
selfish *******: don't you think?
oh... wait... in a "democracy": i'm not supposed to judge...
the minority holds the sway: swerve...
argument...
and why is it that i drink?
sober people with all their self-aggrandizing
posturing...
they don't believe: half... halve the half and halve it
some more and more...
they still won't believe it...
their fellow citizen... comrade has been endowed
with powers that might make them:
buckle... or stipend themselves with
taking a knee to some ghostly authority...

again: i can't enjoy the suffering of others:
i've delved too much into the mime language of
animals...
there's no pleasure in seeing something
expected of civility be reduced to:
this heap of dung and bleeding *******...
it's no fun... if there was ever the noble savage...
i imagine myself the antonym:
the savage civilian...
oh how the subversion gummy squad of
pink breeding brine and brown
how they come at words...

what's next? i replace letters with...
chopsticks imitating Morse code? tap tap tap...
tap tap... tap... tap tap tap tap... tap tap... tap?!

- i like writing during the night: because...
i'm comforted by the... "image":
reality... of other people being asleep
while... the same people later wake up
and have to... succumb to a formality of language...
i never liked formal language...
language of the: "expected":
at times a misnomer "..."
other times a metaphor... with gagging rights
to shoot with bullets of ridicule...

not when the minority hold sway over
the majority:
with each chance to vote: i veto my right
to vote...
there was a time when
the majority held values to uphold the status
of minority: but since then
the minority wants to sway
the argument of the majority:
have your whittle rainbow gimp ****...
without me!

no! nein! nein! nie! niet!
i admire Russia...
if the people require a leash and a muzzle:
the thrills of freedom get in the way
of keeping **** together?!
so be it!
   these ******* westerners and their
"concerns" of "freedom":
**** me... what good is "fweedom"
when it becomes oppressive in the hands
and tongues of the many?
it's one thing when it holds its finicky sway
in the hands of the few
but among us everyday greyish folk?

once upon a time...
the king and the democratic barons...
now... the Russian tyrant
and the piggish suckling at the ****
oligarchs...
hell... if i owned a dog... and i was drinking:
the ****** "thing" would probably bark
at me as it barked at my grandfather...
thank god i own a cat...

i drink and just show it more tenderness...
a bit like i do with prostitutes...
i'm no Jack the ol' Ripper...
i give us much love as can be allowed...
and give some more... to sprinkle some salt
on the already available wounds...
i'll love and love more until it starts to ache...
i don't want to understand women:
i love them too much in their freedoms:
working from some previously gained
or otherwise...

i don't want to understand women:
hence? i chose to delight myself on some stumbling
block of clarity...
now... if they can't understand this:
to hell with being loved:
to be feared! as a man...
i fizzle through the static and watch myself
become: potential... the ugliest potential
i've already cited...
perhaps my words will agitate someone to
do a synchronised bidding?
you never know...

  blah... blah... and more gagging: blah.
Ivan Brooks Sr Mar 2019
I speak, read and write
four international languages.
Not to mention a few dialects.
I have seen a thousand movies
and read hundreds of books.

I have been to four continents
and visited dozens of cities.
I have traveled by land, air, and sea,
and have climbed a few mountains.
I have seen three oceans, some seas,
and have seen dozens of lakes and rivers.

I have seen a Jew, an Arab and a Kurd.
I have heard their views and perspectives
On politics, religion and secular things.
I saw a priest, an Imam, a Rabbi, and a monk,
Performing their respective religious rites.

I have worked with Russians, Gypsies,
Swedes, Denish, Norwegians a Greek,
Some Lithuanians, Baltic and Polish peoples.
I have consulted with British, French, Germans,
Americans, Dutch, and other Scandinavians.

I have seen some very great monuments
Like the statue of Liberty and the Eiffel Tower.
I have been to many beautiful landmarks
Like the old Twin Tower and Have seen  
the new Freedom Tower and Central Park.

Yet I remain humble....

#IvanBrookspoetry
#Bassapoet
Be you,no matter what!
Café in Loule
I'm sitting in a café in Loule, drink coffee and eat a sandwich with nothing on but butter, it is my attempt to slim. Into the café enter two old friends one has small grocers the other is a cobbler,
yes they still exist. They have a coffee and a wee dram, the grocer will keep open to ten, the cobbler keeps his shop open he care not to go home before his nagging wife has gone to bed.
Mugabe, the president of Zimbabwe, is in house arrest, there has
been a military coup, although the army denies it is a takeover;
anyway, it doesn’t matter. Mugabe ninety-two years old has presided
over a total fiasco, the breadbasket of Africa has to import food for
the people oppressed people by his criminal misrule.
An autocrat’s regime has come to an end.

For reason not clear to me I think of Sweden who is run by a liberalistic- feminist philosophy that it has become a country can be understood when immigrants’ trespasses and we have the making of a divided a country that is no longer Sweden. When we hereafter talk of Scandinavia Sweden is not included, nor is the Norwegians who have given in to extreme capitalism.
well there is Suomi, but they are half Russians and Denmark who consist of nice Germans; so you see there is no Scandinavia.

Portugal survives she bends with the wind doesn’t break, from the café window I see the shoemaker by his lest smoking a cigarette.
The Palestinians of Norway

The Sami people who have been living
in the North of the country herding their reindeer
on a cold plateau, are now in trouble.
The Norwegian government wants to let settlers in
and also build factories
The Sami who have lived here for thousands of years
protest and want independence, good Norwegians agree with them.
(Why anyone would like to live in the frozen north
is a mystery to me,) there are many other places in Norway
that needs people and factories,
unless it is political as a part of Lapland borders to Russia,
and they fear this part might be annexed
by a horde of Slaves who hitherto have had no interest
in this part of the land. There is an anti-Russia Propaganda
in the newspapers that are baffling, it was the Soviets who
came and freed the country from the Nazis and pushed
into the sea; has history forgotten this?
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2018
hmm... bite; let's relearn greek together... oh ****... the Cyrillic impetus.

                 ZEE-NO'H...   KSI-NO?

              ζ...

zeta:

              dry on
the o, o, omega?!

         harder to sport
seeing an enemy with
two eyes,
   than it is:
         seeing an
enemy with two tongues...

but cross-eyed you
will still see a unison:
   move a deck of cards:
the entire people moves
stacking,
whistleblowing...

        and the most strange reality
i ever "sought":
       a stroke of lightning...
without thunder...
             the sort of observation
that might make
me into a brazillian soccer
                     golden goose.

because the third place was
necessary to fight for
                             a: parsnip?

   to make a custom of two eyes,
two nostrils and two ears:
best to learn a "lingua franca"...
              it's not that much,
but apparently a lot by Napoleon's
standard...
                   a holy trinity:
an Arab an Englishman
    and a Frenchmen walked into a bar...
all left talking Gaelic!
  **** me: a miracle,
  and all from drinking Guinness!
the funny bit?
          i'm not trying to be funny.
if you believe that the adult bit
of the internet is the *context

   of banking or shopping...
    the content isn't supposed
                   to be *****-friendly!
perhaps what Muhammad meant was:
he who only speaks one tongue...
             i like that version
of the Dajjal...
                  ****... why mention
Odin and not the blind-man?

look at 'em...
                some think the Norwegians
and the Belgians don't speak
native...
               or? maybe they speak
english so well that the english
are bound to be excused as merely tourists?

i forgot as i learned in Athens:
the english = americans have
to be welcome everywhere they
tread...
            ******* roosters in
halloween attire...
                ah... **** it...
                                 let the children play;
chances are,
they'll "grow up",
   by importing labour: while exporting
goods.

i find the pontius pilate gesture
more important than the glorification
posture on golgotha.
The Norwegian club

We went there last night
it was set in a wine bar and the prize,15euro each,
I refused to pay that much.
The bar was almost empty but for a group
of Norwegians who sat whispering in a corner
And there was no one to welcome us.
I was donating some books to the club
left some of them on a table.
No one stirred.
I thought the scene was surreal.
We left and had a meal at a Portuguese
restaurant.
I suppose the books were thrown away
after closing time.
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2020
please! i need this reiterated!
what's so wrong with "subjectivity"?
is that a feminine trait?
is the "masculine", "suddenly"
fizzying out like
a soft-drink infused with
carbon dioxide: the breath of the dying
composed of bubble?

what is a spem ******* into
a tissue? a genocide?
what is a ***** *******
into a female?
the next jesus christ...
the abortion scrambled egg?!

at what point to i disown...
disavow the coming
of the Serbs slaughtering the Ottoman
muslims in former yugoslavia?

i ******* into a tissue...
i disown i disavow...
hello the vatican mafia
of: why not simply cut my ***** off
like i'm the third *****
gas chamber conscript...
because the new wave dodos
are about to flock, settle down...

when the ***** is mine...
but when a woman comes
into contact with it...
vampires... aren't they simply romances
told of familial relations
associated with lepers...
aren't vampires the sort
to breed a.i.d.s. -
that lost acronym...

aren't vampires the romance
associated with a blood-disease?!
romance... my ***...
call him either hey-zeus or bat-fixation-allam...
jesus and balaam...
two donkey riddles among
horses... and broken spines... of the jockeys...

   acne... an excess of my body producing
too many white blood cells..
right, major major....
understood! standing uptight and on
privy!
i have mushroom of these dead
white blood cells pouring
out of my ****** pores
            (when squeezed or forced
under a pincer of the nails seeing
not manicure)...
like belzeebub taking a ****
with readily available eager maggots!

mosquitos i'd **** for fun...
flies? i'm rather bothered with my new
faith: the plethora of doubt...
faith should never become
the antonym: negation...
islam abhors the unbelievers...
un- is a negation...
non- is a doubt...
islam should pardon those in doubt
as it embraces those
"with faith"...

   i doubt because... i've seen all
the other cul de sacs of expressing an anchor
to an already sinking ship...

the arabs do not like the turks...
last time i heard, from that random...
lawrence... the camel jockeys abhor
the turks... after all... the quran came unto
the arabs... as did the oil...
the turks are the lesser nomads...
kazakhs... or that other rugga-muffin tribe
from the belly of hunger that's
siberia... the tundra hinterland...
not exactly a saharan fata morgana...

i like doubt to be:
the combined negativity of emotions
with: how can one conjure a positivity
of thought? how can anyone even genesis
a binary of thought?
does... a non-binary of *** even "work"?
i also like doubt to be:
the motive for cogito per se -
it's an open and the end:
scenario of words...

             turk is the primo muslim...
heard the arab...
said wha'?!    the turk was to dwarf the arab?
what about all that sunni and sh'ite islam
debacle?
clearly it's not merely an iranian "terminology"
lost to xerxes beating the waves
of Thermopylae...

the man thus... i guess i must also be...
no... back in the day only men were literate...
i was also inclined to be a favourite
of the spoon and fork...
i must be a woman to write!
i must be a woman to write!
as was Horace prone!
               as was Dante prone!
****'s expressio! muschi alles das ist!

wasn't an immediacy of schism apparent?
the persians would not bow before
some arabs - even with their now apparent
gold... these camel jockeys...

nor a turk... in a suit... a muslim is a turk
or some dirt mongol -
the lament of baghdad?!
no wonder the persians would deem
themselves...
protestant or catholic?
i don't think it matters...
we're still waiting for the one true monotheism
to reach Lebanon and the protestant guise...
the catholic primates of Tehran...
and the orthodox ball-crushing origins
of a Mehdi in waiting come...
Mecca under ibn-Saud...

            look to the east...
what is east of Mecca? Riyadh...
                                such are my eclectic concerns...
a turk a muslim...
unless of course...
       some **** entered the notre-dame de paris...
left undistrubed...
like mehmed II... entering the hagia sophia...
almost immediately wishing
to contract building a replica...

  whatever the name is / was...

for all their riches beneath the sand...
their yachts... boredom from wealth
is a fickle bedroom demon to tame...
    sooner or later... Moldova laments:
why are we not part of Romania
and not given st. petersburg's window
into the world: with an access to the seas?!

why do egyptians or any north africans
need to be invoked in this affair is beyond me...
well... the moors...
i once knew a people that made pyramids
by ******* into the sand
having retained hope for mountains
by having ivory moulds to replica
that sort of ambitions...

the pyramid is the never before seen
mountain... among the dunes...
what is a desert? what a mountain range looks like...
if you have... the sort of dodo patience
necessary...
genesis *** ape? really? that's it?
i can look further afield than:
just becomes it looks similar to man...
just because...
you stated the categories...
a whale is a mammal!
                  
           and, thus, somewhow,
coming back to time via journalism?
seriously?!

                    i'm out of "it" quiet literally without
any constraints of consentual time ref.:
consensual...
                   what the **** happened to:
i consent to?
                  
again: what's wrong with subjectivity?
am i not assured being: being subjected to something...
don't i have to be: a priori: subject to "it"...
before i can be: a posteriori: objective about it?
what's with all this, modern,
objection to subjectivity "sensibility"?

on the basis of objectivity per se...
sorry... no...
you have to be subjected to algebra-A...
before you can spew retrogade objectivity algebra-B...
for no greater purpose other than
to peacock on the "logic" spectrum...
first comes subjectivity... of being subjected to...
then... only then comes the desired
objectivity... you can only be objective...
a posteriori... when you have been subjected...
a priori to "it": as ever... always the most elusive "it"...

subjectivity is "b'aaah... b'aaah bad"...
objectivity is: cul de sac "logistics" of perfecting
gwam-ar... or grammar: in velsh...

but how can you become objective / be, objective...
if you haven't been the / a... subject of...
something to... object to...
subjectivity is the terra firma...
and it tends to "hide" when coming across
a non-schizoid non-bicameral
non-bilingual... binary...
                           to harvest objectivity...
i guess you first need to be subjected to...
what you'll later object to...

in the safety of an "objective" 1 + 1 = 2...
is the subjective a priori...
and the objective a posteriori?
well... no... or no: i hope...
i hope but i can't hope...
since i was so ******* naive...
          
             nonetheless... this suppossed superiority
of objectivity over subjectivity...
binary in some circles...
                zeitnahsprechen...
berliner: schwer-auf knifflig-stück...
         do i look like a ******* gypsy-king
diet-prone on solely: makrone?
looking for alcholics among the arabs...
and... caffeine and sugar addicted norwegians, too?

objectivity: alles gut!
beginning from... where?
   nothing requiring you being subjected to:
in order to object to a furthering recurrence?
even a crow listens in on what i type...
he has to be the sole insomnia prone
bird in this vill-age...
unless of course... hoarding odin is listening...
and that wasn't just any crow...
it was...      ᛗᚢᚾᛁᚾᚾ...

to hell with ᚻᚢᚷᛁᚾᚾ...
         i'm with my memory... somewhere else...
and it's certainly not a seat
in... playing role... for some cameo cinema
outtake!

there we go... a croaking in the night...
mind you... you always have a pornographic
seat of viewing pigeons trying to procreate...
right before your eyes...
hard to spot one crow courting another
crow in ned (yes, not need)...
of a desperado ****...
                pigeons just love voyeurs...
crows: still remember the mother woods...

and will not: **** or pretend to **** in
public... pigeons on the other hand?
**** anywhere **** anything that moves...

so much for a new or nuanced god...
iconoclasm drifter...
like C is supposed to represent
the half-lit moon of death's harmonica
played into the whistling scythe...
or some other wordly load of *******.
different spirits agree with me:
others don't:
we can agree to disagree as the clitche goes...

today i was supposed to finish
at 9pm
i finished at 8:10pm
in the car park with the away coatches
all the way from
2nd London:
that is Manchester
in terms of spirit...
not in terms of numbers: not so dearest
Brimingham:
let the cities talk as if they were
free from the state!
let Manchester become a city-state!
let it build up its walls
let it become the Troy i want to have
when i leave:
London can burn
but i want my heart to be burried in Manchester...

coincidenses...
no such thing: enough coincidences and you
get Cambodian: MA-GIC!

i switched temperaments i switched humors
i switched from whiskey
to *****
and everything became i'm high: REAL
i got a real pusher of the American finest "tobacoo"
and i as:
Ken: totem: shove that stinker in there:
in some wood:
keep the **** in scented wood
thje doctors are becoming suspicious
nervous
having a *******
about Oedipus Schizophrenic-Android-Altruism
of... off.. Atheist: the Lombard
Crusader Simple tonne of Simples:
Ar'Gs...
  Argentinians:                       (atheism, solipsism,
                                  autism...)

civil army: i work with armny veterans
i'm not a Charles HARLEM HAREM
Bukowski:
the grin reaper of lonely women
whos loves didn't come back from the beaches
of Normandy:
like the women prior
whos men didn't come back from the trenches...
i don't work in a prison:
just a civilian army...
and this ******* pencil-sharpener of a "doctor"
from Poland
had the audacity to play the "doctor"
and the DWP pencil pusher:
i watched the Green Mile
because i wanted to see...
not the execution of the repentant Cain
but the Prideful Abel:
finally resurrected and so vicious resurrected
as a woman...
and men as portraying women
on the screen: but not in theatre of opera:
the world is intact there:
i rewatched the Green Mile
because of Mr Jingles...
oh the ghosts and the spiritless that live among
you and crab bucket you into darkness

Coronation Street
before my time apparently:
oh: grandpa knows the world: WOKE!
his is ich spreschen detuszche
stationed on the Falklands:
made redundant now drives Manchester
Stewards...
so the Bennies...
wha?! the Falklnaders were always there?
did i fear correctly?
painting colours on penguins the ones
that fall over
go back to the nest
and you get aces and the races
British soliders passing time
if i were there: passing time...

MAnchester incoming LOndon answered:
there is a cohesion to mind:
state cities:
there are many citities within the confines
of the Christia-Jewry-n of the City of London
that the Arabs are infiltrating
because i see the perishing god of money
that's where Mammon was crucified
in Islam...
because Islam doesn't believe in usury...
and Ezra my Essex of the Pound
5 books is difficult:
10... i need 10 books...
at least two that i haven't read in English
and at least one in Polish
but i'm finishing at least five books at once...
i found the bibliophiles asset of parasite
in worms...
i moved beyond snakes
i only believe in the stelar symbiosis
between man and worms
i am armed with wormed about to stage
fright fights with serpents
and streets and dragons
and ladders...

Dad's Army: motto: let us disperse the world!
we travelled almost everywhere:
let us be the beacon and the baton
this New Greece
that's England...
let us become ground zero:
let us accept Rome thrived... preserved itself...
like Greece...
let us free ourselves:
the Celts the ******* Romans
then the Saxons then the Danes?

the Finns are weird
the Norwegians discovered Iceland
and America
the Danes sailed west to find England
the Swedes went east and found
Byzantine: dropping ***** as they went...
Goths and Vandlas...
the ******* children that invaded Rome:
it can happen again...
if you wish it...
there are plenty of *** starved young men out
there:
i don't care to have a persuasion...
to deal in these matters...

my cat woke me up at4:30am
couldn't go back to sleep:
music? what music?!
SMNR: whatever that acronym stands for:
i would rather listen to the sound
of rain against a tent:
then rain hilt: on a tin roof...
then rain and thunder
then the sound of crashing waves...
i don't care for music
i already know not to care for sport
i was working with one  WAGWAN
woman... and some African gremlin (sized)
one...

i still care about music
the Green Mile:
but i was there for the Percy Wetmore
transformation:
such a simple Christ
picture...
no more agonizing paradoxes
O: oculus per oculus...
no: you first: thirst: turn the other cheek!
burying naked feet...

i wasn't there for the graces, and god...:

Braille: came the "despots": i need a library
if i'll be moving to Kauiai...
i need a library...

i pay my dew with dues:
should my doctor be my ogliest
U... huel: bananna flavor...
400kcal... but the amount of protein...
then this evening:
because by now the night:
a bunch of children walking against
me
until one voice made
Dasein: there's concern to be had
about being conscious, mortal, alive...

because i was pushed to the side:
but i understood:
the necessary ****
of crowd of *****
and one only one of a billion
experiencing the burden and pardon
of atomized consciousness...
as ***** then ape then man
wow!
what closet of history to be having
to have to keep...

i switched from whiskey to *****...
my temperament is stricter: wiser:
more prone to acknowledging self-mistaking
self-propeller with self-block-blockage-also-alias-a-self.

new *****: artsian spelling my-stakes:
mistakes...
away from rye and whiskers, mrs.:
party boy drinks only *****
alone...
prayer boy drinks whiskey straight: at a party:
please don't confuse or conflate
my CIS-HUBRIS
         ooh: the 007 chills!
No way, for Norway
Fined for wearing shorts
Instead of brief bikinis
I wonder what would of happened
If men had to wear mankinis?

The Olympic Committee
Need to be exposed
For such a ridiculous ruling
As the Norwegians gained no advantages
In a competition so gruelling

by Jemia
Tao and the art of no motorcycle: therefore no maintainance

what a ****** title...
but if the pseudo-Greel wolf-mann can write
a book about the patricide inversion
of a son's suicide
and cope
but at the same time: snuggle and smother
a confession of a madman
that somehow QUALITY
is the root for the tree: unlike the dog a god
if god was to love us
he couldn't do it as a man
as a man he'd be crucified or
ridiculed as Nero with a flaming harp...
o'm going to get drunk and listen
to some Madonna..
or myabe... no... not... Rockmaker
by the Dandy Warhols:
finally! the feud is over! two creative geniuses
came face to face
and last night i slept
in a cabin
and listened to the storm talking to the trees
oh how superior the architecture in the north
from simply wood: Norwegian oh boy blue
i'm getting high from a good conversation
and i think i'm having
something telepathic with Reyla
and Edie is in the background
and shaking her *** oh tease camaleon
cook me some Puerto Rican munch munchies
i think i have a daughter a lighter
spirit i think i was given a blessing
for forking out
20 quid in the paths and it almost feels
like Christmas when i can be
a child benevolent
not my favorite: by Easter i'll be sparrow
songs and happy willing so the mercy
of the passion of Geth and Semanii...
trans-gender nightmares of the Nag Hammadi
pronouns in my head...
i was ******* a blonde beast last night
in a dream:
listening to the wind break and creak
and morse code itself into wood:
how wonderful...
to hear the symphony of the elements...
when fire speak to water
when fire speaks to earth
then wind speak to the earth via the trees
and i'm the Dune's Guildsman lost
in fish and frogs and parasites and Orange Dust
not Spice not Fog...
oh Guildsman: hold my sway:
no pub for objective clarity:
just a translucent thought of Islam
like there was a golden age of
the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth...
sober up: have some historical perspective:
god all loving as a dog...
but now as man so lowly caste to suffer
on the necks of supposed ****** virgins...

EQU?
no... the word i could compete with: etymology:
suggests:
EQUIVALENCE:
i.e. EQUAL
                         VALENCY...

equivalence is an adjective and i find dyslexics
fascinating in England
because in Poland there is hyper-literacy
and an Agony against the algorithm and the personalised
algorithm of the AI...
with the Grypwa: the prison slang:
so we're in this same little leaking boat: are we?!
we! yes! jawohl: mein kommandt!

disorientated democracy:
the noons have crept and the shadow has lept
from the window with the cat
the baby and the bathtub...
some water is creeping: odd: since how many:
elements... can be coupled with silence?
i asked for lightning to the 5th element...
now i have to ask for a 6th...
i need the element of vacuum to be invoked:
invited: by god or by dog:
to which all i paint: a pointing love: affair...

white crow: black eagle:
white crow: black eagle...
word for word:
neo-Romantic rereading:
England is Scandinavia
and Poland bled the breeding
a German Host
this is no East
this is Central Europe:
West went via Europe went via
Spain
and call them Hispanics
the Europeans call them Aztecs...
so littly represented via Polynesia on American t.v.

maybe i need a mountain of my name
meaning name...
Gift of God...
or Conrad: Wise Council...
i'm Germanic root for root
hey presto! a tri!
ugh... if acute... iota... no need to exclaim...
so?
          trí                   now roll / trill the ЯR

Greeks and Romans stay this close... this mirror:
mirror kiss: so close...
how depict the trill on the R? a cedilla? the wavering
marker... let's see...
did i pin point the noun cedilla to
a crucifix of suffering?
everyone even the Norwegians
newly converted Catholics?! **** me BORZE BURZY
IDZIOM! VIA IDIOM....

— The End —