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Solent in Expiationem Animarum

Saint John the Apostle says: “Zefián, the computer of the Duoverse of the Verthian world, indicates the order of his creation of the world, according to the transcendental plant living matter, in the interstices of time itself that exists within sidereal time. Noting that matter and time, is governed by all mythological beings in a compartment with monotheism, will be defined by atavistic laws, which are the deity of the intense hiding place of procreation, endowing great contextual residences, for habitat and a world in which larger non-residential scales, which go from passerby between the lines of time, and cosmological phenomena, which in the Duoverse face vicissitudes of the stars and their physicality added to the arcs of memory and emotions. Thus the main task of how the structure of experience surpasses consciousness, to novelize the orthogonal movements of the Universe, but in a Vernarthian world with great explorations of matter, which are quantified and volatilized in the field of its ethereal existence. The laws will be governed by your Zefian computer, describing codes that will verify the fulfillment of pivots in the reactions of the universe, but with refractions when reasoning about the consummate phenomenon. Starting from here in the experienced biology that will overcome the laws of physics, since its value is above the limits that allow the bold line of gravity that bounces in the lines of time, and its distances promoting more discretion when resisting threats. of a possible tiring case, a product of some relative dominance not included in all worlds with each other, in some case that does not rescue us from loss of links of some omitted sidereal reminiscence, attracting us to a universe governed by hemicycles of merely material particles, and not existential biological ones. The dimensions emerge from the beginning of the same universe, but more delayed from the interval and the second limit of the space that rests, to inaugurate the one that comes. Being the orbit of translation twice rotating towards the sun, but nth times rotating on itself, to go out to another stellar dimension not present. Its geometry will be from the intendancy of the resumption of Cinnabar in Tsambika and Helleniká, to later cancel each other out, making their integration in Patmos, on the coast of Skalá, with curvatures that validate the nullity of successive expirations of material lives, between spiritual expirations alive.


Duoverso is born and will be reborn, every time the years are subject to the loss of everything quantifiable and not, under the light that will be lit on all the darkness, Zefián being, in paronymy in which they lack to appropriate the support and merit of to have it absorbed in the tabernacle of Vas Auric, in the privilege of nothingness itself and nobody, adding itself in what is preserved of the physical support of itself. For just sidereal speed, in which it will have to travel on its same axis of rotating time on itself, in paradoxical of the One-dimensional Beams, these coexisting with the same low and high universes, reconverted into angelic vital luminances, creating orbits and optics in the visions of Christian temporality. By empowering them to enable them in the overexcited that derive disorders of intermittency of memory and physics of time, to reinsert themselves in the sequence that inhabits the residual of the speed of the Beam, as a Theo-Philosophical entity, of cellular multiplicity or cells of seasonality. of retrograde times, for the independence of temporality, under the regime of the past made up of an unbelievable yesterday. Overcoming the conserved immediacy of conviction in the One-dimensional Beams (Kafersesuh), it is observed denser when every mortal admits to being due to integrating and later brooding, dissecting organic matter into inorganic matter, suspended in the richness of a world of Faith and Prayer, of the most anti-gregarious desert and lost in the world, but supported by hollow walls, which do not exist in Vernarthian emotional matter.

The movements being physical, they take us on conjectured layers to discern their magnitude, emphasizing the rigor of their measurement on us, instead, the ambivalence of Zefian, delivers in both chromatic the Dark and White Duoverse, under the reference of the behavioral alternations of the Diospyros, source of the arboreal, for the procreation granted in the hands of Leiak. Relying on this equational exercise, with less time to design for its genealogy, but rather on its apocalypse, reinstalled in abolished primary unknown spaces, to have it once again in the light of consciousness, recognized as an inert matter of the past, but living off the immanent eternity of nebulae that personalize the earring of the Caltrop, taking temporality, but not snatching any hand to tear it from his own.

Vernarth says: “In the rhetoric of the Universe-Duoverse theorem, it is worth noting the past with entity, present and future also, connected to the time of Verthian inspiration, Holderlin-Heidegger, on issues of physical habitability, as a complement to the entity, which anticipates the present/future in the vicinity of death in the past and future, but tangentially in lively whims of existentialism-mortality, for a way of being rented out at death, as a way of being, dwelling in death itself and in the act of embodiment having existed, but with its own mandate after having been rented. The Vernarthian World appears in this current, prolonging existence from non-existence, granting complementarity of more past existence, before an unlived death. Ontologically, This theory stems from the One-Dimensional Beams of Kafersesuh, in Ein Karem. Essentially Christian, as the matrix of existence between Ein Karem (Nativity of the Messiah) and Gethsemane, as an interconnection of materiality in metaphysical reflections, a product of the immaterial of life not lived, as an urgent sacrilegious death, and of the anticipated dimension of the life process- death-life of Christian Messianism.

Vernarth says: "with the slaves in my disparate hands, one picked up what the other was carrying. With my right hand, I took the Duoverso, and with the other my porter; I held my reins on the maxims of Elpenor, before falling to the cliff. One naughty day but with the worst pain in my chest, I went to see him in his room, and I structured him as an immortal, at the time of forming the world, "knowing not even being part of an identity" favoring him to be part of me. combustion and ignition due to the friction of the Universe on the Duoverse. Such was that fearlessness and affordability that it decorated me with unexpected tears of belonging by imprisoning me with superfluous boastfulness. But his courage will be mine, and he will have to anticipate being in the middle of grace, as in Gaugamela wounding my two hearts, one deleterious and the other not..., verbatim saying:

Says the Carrier: “I have to agree to your mandate my lord Vernarth, I have arranged my emetic knights to take him to the empyrean, more remote at nightfall. I know that my own death will also take him, for we are double lives loving death, which falls on a night given to the seventh Falangist soldier. In the midst of souls already disheartened by the misfortune of life, in the figure of eternal death that refuses to receive us discouraged "

Vernarth says: "I do not know if I am or will be brave, because I have forgotten to die, rather I do not know what it is ?, but in the midst of the horses and the hosts of the block, from the anvil of Gaugamela that I have not felt it again..., which is death after feeling my hands and legs severed, but not felt when appropriating some amputee. I know that among the Hypaspists we used umpteenth arrows to mobilize their war apparatus 665, but from the wasteland jump we gathered the delirium of the Falangist command in the Seleucid 666 row, rather detached from every man, in a substantial way in favor of the Alexandrian life, "Of course he was already in the hands of eternity, which hurts more than the tip of an arrow, even being unfaithful to his mortality"

and not in the Universe chained to its fractality, rather of its present-present of the new universe for those who make it negative of itself, towards a clone and neatness, granting it recklessness, who continues to sweep its entity, its dimension, its space, the distances, the matter to receive it in their being. Vernarth, besieges the discursive thinking, under the tides of the tenements and the fears of late emotionality, changing to all the best heroics of the follow and all the experiences of harassing flat lights of the target, in the necropolis that speak resurrected, not being chimera in the best leisure districts live, but immortal of a district..., with steps to constitutive slogans of "succumbed cities, but..., with eternity", connoting after all abolished transference, in eternity present between two beings of mortal rank, the Carrier and Vernarth, Vernarth and Heidegger, but here the last one bringing him the closest radiogram between expiration and eternity, with significant death (End and chaos) and eternity (creation), in the limbo-purgation ratio, as the source of the potion. His total contention and affinity in Heidegger's dialectic, passing through a moment that marks his reincarnation, in the rambling of finite eternity, moving away from Vernarthian ontological and metaphysical reasoning. It was attached magnetic in the Universe, feverish kiss in ambitions of the temporal Being, as substantial of perpetual objectivity towards the unworthy survivor of the Vernarthian theories. So far no similarity is compared to whoever wants it or not, it is part of any estimate or spreadsheet of a complex Duoverse, Within the emerging frontis of progeny, there are ranks derived towards the first to form compound swaths of shelters in the Camels Gigas, who from Jerusalem escorted them with their plantar consciences to Ein Karem, then returning to Gethsemane, to finish in the port of Jaffa. Originally arranged by the children of Israel and the strongholds; Vernarth, Saint John the Apostle, Eurydice, Raeder, and Petrobus with animality, Etréstles, and Kanti, to finally mention King David, who goes to his catafalque before leaving for Jaffa, to return winds to Patmos. Of this primogeniture, the legatee is Vernarth, being presented as co-first-born by giving his portion to Saint John the Apostle, for trust assets of the benefit of a third party for both, and granting the patriarchal and reimbursement to each of his inheritances, being of expeditious aim the liberation of the world that lodged them not authentically in the mediocrity of ascendant ancestors. This prerogative will be decisive to define the dimension of the Duoverse and the One-dimensional Beams as consanguinity, simultaneous nascent and mortal worldview, to radiate them in the beams that support the universe, and from this same, they are transferred to the vision of child-man, child-cherub., for the purpose of defining the Universe-Duoverse physically composed of four areas of its consistency. Time, Being, Divinity and the Four Wings of the Cherubim, as a concept of biodiversity in Lepidoptera, Bumblebees, Bees, Wasps, and Fireflies as tetra-winged animal entities, originating the warnings and impositions in cardinals and poles of their primogeniture, rising from chaos, up to now as mandatory Duoverso, constituting the alpha world, rising of the Animalia and the intermediate visions of the heights that guide the material essences of the imperishable spiritual elemental and structural physics. Being ineffable matter, in the stars that prostrate itself, before each pause of advent and of creations that ****** other creative flashes, in pursuit of a gnoseological doctrine, as a slavish instant, ending in another for the study of the meaning of conceiving in the diligently part of a new world, on the borders of the unknown and of repelled nothingness, suspecting itself in the living artery of nihilistic nothingness, without leaning towards nonexistence that endorses it, or perhaps from a twin Duoverso univitelino in the chaos of unfertilized nature..., rather empowered to the first heir by the law of the Messiah district. Allow yourself, in this way, in the face of this premise and history, to continue and be part of an establishing whole, looking for God in a new world and universe as well..., but shaking before the nothingness that sustains it, as a basic knowledge of value and of immobile Faith. The hypothesis Prosapy-Centric, defines blood lineage unifying the Duoverso as follows:

a)Eternal Existentialism:

He talks about how compassionate creation is and its factotum, that it will be better that way. At the entrance to the Vernarth mouth, within its buccal cubic meters, the Zig Zag Universe, the promoter that caused the Duoverse, broke out. Here your thoughts of eternity are born; not from your brain and discernment, psyche or mind. It exists in a present that will be distributed without end or beginning, in the holistic of the anticipated existence of the being itself, so that everything holistically arises from the mouth of Vernarth, becoming the light of his luminance-ejector thought, being in some way the Zigzag universe that emerges from the outgoing access of its mouth and that manifests itself in some change of quantum physics in a state of hyper-connectivity and always present. The Zig Zag, coexists in eclectic variability of angles, creating regularities in its time and displacement. For the sake of results and translational parallelism as a promoter of the Duoverse, based on the holistic that brings together the effect of the word-fact, but eminently aimed at the morphology of extra language of intellect, rather in the kinetics of the language of human zigzag and physical-material, typical in various line segments of lightning and space storms, resembling his lost and bleeding soul in full battle at the site of Arbela. The other meaning is his salvation from the Council of Patmos, being already Installed in the Eclectic and invisible portal of the Evangelist of Saint John, levitating in his sacred basaltic cavern in Katapausis, in the Patmos archipelago (Koumeterium Messolonghi, Chapter 16 / page 114. Editorial Palibrio- USA). They would find themselves in communion with the archaean clan, which would resemble its proper ectoplasm; thus each one forming a unique part in the masonry dictated to redirect them towards their messianic labors at this stage of the ascension. Vernarth; is aware that he will have to enter the cave, after having ceased his work on standby for three months. He continues to fester in myriad wars and parapsychological regressions, he will remain in a daze to dedicate himself to the beautiful landscapes open towards a horizon..., a neighbor to Palaeolithic and astronomical painting. In the flashes of mathematical prayer, you will capture the spiritual intensity that inspired Saint John to build the temple near his cave of the Apocalypse on the island of Patmos. The saint appears only on certain days looking at him from afar to encourage him in his progress..., Portal Eclectic and invisible is the facet of the face of light, after the invisible that manages to be appreciated with the principle of transferring its connectivity of the immaterial with the material, but done in the finished quality of "Merciful", deriving everything in what supports the splendor of the facts and their objective analysis, by no means the same, because the Zigzag universe, originates theory or thoughts from the perspective of external language and integrally unites it through the optimal results, always imponderable and categorical to follow them and attract them to eternal spiritual good. Being exhaustive of the fact of action, although it is subdivided into executability..., it will continue to be timeless, therefore eternal, in the hands of a universe of thick eternity and stationary death.

The final communion of Zig Zag with the Duoverse, will make this key momentum to replace the Universe of the former Vernarthian world, for inflections of the continuous present, more in the distance of the limits that have to originate than by a simple gesturing stupidity of disbelief, abounding more than a universe that is created in eternity, and that will never again resurface as a physical dimension. The successive potentiality of this theory of holism subtracts actions and not facts, since it always culminates in the limit of infinity, always beginning and never-ending, to then restart in a present that is reintegrated into the access of the oropharyngeal and non-cerebral embouchure, since it has of limiting itself in its shock and subsequent confusion of language-emotion and feeling, to change all eternal emotion, always going hand in hand with the unequivocal and assertive light,

b) Being Universal multi-evocation:

Over Rhodes the auroras could be seen retreating, to attract the new luminances crossing between the atmospheres of the ancient worlds, with stars that were ordered among others, descending at great speed from the Universe, fascinating all Greece, coming from celestial bodies that brought from great Relative distances and proximity between the Duoverso and its satellite widening, allowing to grant subsistence, and routes to the nascent species of the Vernarthian sub-mythology. The Sabbath energy Light is overbreathed repair; here Saint John the Apostle influences through the conduit of the Cinnabar towards the Light of the Mashiach, with the intemperance of life on drops of crystallized water as gifts of Taphoric Light, with synoptic signs of transformation of all the green grass growing like a beard on the slopes of the Willows, where Saint John the Apostle goes back to prayer prayers; so such in repetitive sentences and prayers towards the Universe, which were falling as it was on Mount Tabor in the Transfiguration. All this in the fervor of the willow chins that fell from the galaxies, with their cascades one after another in orderly colophons of fervor making the sky a great source of Moshaic and Elijah voices. (Moses and Elijah) to Christianize the holy oils of the radiant glory of the Universe that was complemented by the Heliac Ortho that was appreciated in different coefficients according to this new position of the parameter of Greece, observed from the Constellation of Pisces, being symbolized as piece as SOS, since Eratosthenes tells us about the fish that saved Derceto (Goddess of Assyrian mythology), after falling into a large lagoon. Seeing therefore in the sky as Fum Al Samakah, Arabic for “snout of the fish” (or Fomalhaut star from the Greek translation). Pisces being bright and of the great dimension to mold it as a whole iris, which was rooted from the formal pelagic accent, towards a spectral affinity of the Duoverse, like leaves of Willow temperatures, on the reflection of the Multi-evocation. For antithetical referendum of the Pleiades between light-years that diminish behind the stars of the magnetic field and its exo-planet. It is necessary to consider that in the wisdom of God, there would be his ordering conscience, on each constellation, and then detach itself before each other that guards each one in centuries of light-years, and in each one of the children as light-years of millions, but of numerical present time quantum; that is to say, all translation on average over ups and downs of spatiality and in remote ages, to zero or from null numerals in the integrality of millions of non-existent light-years, but accumulated and equidistant between the Universal Being and Multi-evocation. An example of cartographic observation shows us Greece at Latitude 39.074208 and Longitude 21.824312, influencing the Duoverse as a complement to the rise of Greece with the latitude of the Heliac Ortho, being Sirius eleven days after the Ekadashi and eleven days before the other at 10 °, Maximizing the light herbalism of the unconscious, to systematize the rise of the Universe imbuing Greece. Refulgent and small electromagnetic systems, led by the Divinity, are freeing themselves of all the units that bind in the minimal Units that can expand with the apostolic energy, rather than a trans-human receiver, in blocks of circulation of waves, related to a Defined spatiality, divine and with its own energy of opening of small worlds of provision of light, and radiation emitted by the deleterious convex of invisible essences in properties that are released from overflowing stagnations of creation, and from the skylights that are more distant than the wavelengths than from a breath of Demiourgy in the chemistry of all multidimensional hyper-existential between frequencies of energy widely displaceable by lines of how many..., in static energy of rest. Ultra colors intensify on the coasts of Rhodes, as a sulfur photoelectric effect of Cinnabar, formalizing mechanics in those sedimentary particles, which undulate in anticipation of the precise amalgamation of both universes, evolving towards the matrix of origin of physical and non-biological state and period, but of eternal divine inspiration, from the mouths of Vernarth, as a resurrected Being electro vigorous, dwelling spacious and sinuosities of curvature and psychic spiraling, The Vernarthian nature will call this phenomenon the Son, since it is the similarity of the halo in the Taphoric Light and in its effect of the baptismal of this Christian Universe called Duoverse, in accordance with the presence of Saint John the Apostle light, among the attending raptor niveous. strangers, arrival-departure and between the nebula of pendency in the nimbus gaseous clouds of fields that mutually heard each other recognizing each other..., leaving only Saint John the Apostle in the perfection of the sky as a universal and Duoversal shadow, first of all being of light being baptized, crucified and risen-ascended, in the metaphysical transfer of his body, as a universal body, as a quantum point between the earth and the sky, between the universe and the Duoverse as a complement of gaseous and spiritual atmospheric earth. Ministering in the judicious and prophetic occlusion, being a juridical part among the myriad bundles of Constellar Pisces that supported the transfigured and converted prophets, before a brand new universe, "Duoverso", witness to the amazement at the proximity of the multi-evoked Universal Being.

c) Reflection space (Light-matter)

The Duoverse having been pulled from its entrails from Vernarth's mouth, and objectual free fall is noticed after disengaging from the quantum Universe, rather than an elusive cacophony that unfolds separated from their bodies in all dimensions, except Vernarthian time, Alluding to the stoning him so that he ignores himself in agony and returns to look for him to revive him as Space-Light, in the presence of matter reflected from himself, which will unfold throughout the Hellenic Panagias, from Kímolos to Tsambika, to make the curves the direct passage that once again bends time towards a fragmented dimensionality. Barefoot was the apostle with Vernarth in the three quarters of the axioms and algorithms, where the conceptuality would overcome the low calculation of what was already ministered by them. Creating space for lapses in dreams of the Stairs, with steps of Topaz, in this particular case of Saint John the Apostle, "seeing open skies and angels of God go up and down on the son of man." Here some sidereal Solar gleams are illuminated that have nights for a sunny day, Vernarth resting on the side of the Monastery with a stone on its head and dozing to dream like Etréstles in the Hexagonal Baptistery of the Shepherds in Ein Karem, but of the compact sweetness of the famous luminous Cinnabar ascending vertically where the Yahvic Being, who was presented to him as the Abrahamic patriarchate nexus. Endowing him with celestial dreams about stones that inherit west and east towards the north noon, in space of hallucinations of Jacob's subconscious, for the satisfaction of the luminous pictorial ligament. Thus, a timid but decisive reflex pointer of space and reflection is detected, which includes fragments of spectrum and tonalities of a machine unconscious, to raise the Duoverse in a depressive day of the scathing moment.

d) Physical energy (molecular entropy)

From the bases of Theoskepasti, the physical system emerged in two sums after the movements of the pendular censers that exceed the elliptical of the Cinnabar and the potential of the ejectable force field, for ductility of its forces that emanated from the triad with the archpriest, helping him Etréstles and Kanti, who would take them to the Hellenika Necropolis. They make of their golden bodies the ephemeral speed mechanized in the originality of the homily system, to break in the guardian friction of the gravitational axial of the body of Light of the cinnabar, which received the sulfur kinetics of the defective organic matter that was wrapped in a bizarre alloy of sulfur light, and in all the forces gathered, not rubbing with the cinnabar obelisk, already invaded by the energy that made it superficial, between the shell of the Panagia Theoskepasti covering and the strange normality that made them physical-organic. No scrubbing would continue the movement of the fleeting angle of the anvil of Hephaestus, but the static on the surface, lay unchanged before the forces of the back and forth of the molecules that sank late, shooting from the pendular area of his bowl and then starting with full power for new angles that will take advantage of the mechanics of the forge and the friction clean and **** before the joint, and the resistance of the reactivation of the second period of the movement, to forward them to Tsambika in the response signal. Quantifying later between the inferiority and the intangible shock reaction in the light radiosities of the cinnabar re imparted towards Rhodes, forming resistance, but with immanent entropy, with a high degree of fineness, in such a way that once the conservation rays are fired, the response to Rhodes will come from Kímolos with the particles and combustions of sulfurous gas and mercury, generating entropy of two quantum and physical times between the Dodecanese and Cyclades, knowing that the inert matter is inactivated alive, thus envisioning the contingent presence of iron in the geology of both islands, with more than eighty percent, and of gravitating oxygen for the Vas Auric and its materialization, as a ****** impression reducing its physical dimension and enlarging its water content in pelagic beings of the Aegean. This would suggest the homogeneity of both island territories, appease the conception of substitutions that frolic from north to south, to break their normal balance, depleting what is island land towards oceanic land. In this way they will be mixed entropically for a new generation of fertile life that balances in chaos, already in the hands of Saint John the Apostle and Vernarth, in the main nave of the Monastery that seemed to oscillate atomized and vanished, but then atomically restructured, slyly dividing the canons of traditional entropy, and making it disproportionate to the biodiversity ordering of the sterile and the fertile, reordering itself as a mutable force excluding the reality of act-effect, invested in the integrity of life-death-life, as a molecular target in a double physical dimensional unit, making the prospective universe by splitting from any other format, to become another and another physical dimension. Universe-Duoverse, they shake like two spheres, almost joining each other, but separating into heterogeneous classics, as a panegyric, under the invocation of Conviction and Faith. The universes self-recomposed and redistribute themselves before our eyes, but before the consistent devotion of this homily, it makes them astonishing and phenomenal (everything that happens is recomposed - if the tree fractures, but then it straightens re-fractured, before our eyes being recomposed). Thus the chaos of the Universe is resolved, appropriating a new sequence of continuous creation, starting from the same creative property, but of molecular entropy, almost in adverse defect, but of constriction of the yielded body, to be incorporated into the Cinnabar beam of light. dynamic, generating ignition at the ends of each part of the structure obelisk, in order to release and stimulate on the absorbent..., of the Hexagonal Birthright in Tsambika,

e) One-Dimensional Beams

From the hexagon, everything is dimensioned on the peaks that can be seen in the starry nights from the curved kilometers of Bethlehem. Everything goes on top of the desert mountains and valleys, above the vagaries of climatic heights, and landslides of an entire believing community and its followers. In twelve advancing camels, of which the first six are exclusive to the Birthright, and then the seventh Giga camel is from King David of Bethlehem.

The beams are the architectural support portion of the physical-ethereal God and of his ethereal-physical word, supposedly of advent in grazing of the hardwoods, and the secret anomalies of a new Aramaic message, anticipating the vigor of insects and birds that were grouped together. in the journey that goes back and forth. The Beams are stars of heaven sustained by the Cherubim and the Archangels, through the paths of conversion and the support of the Christian time; haughty and implacable hegemony for the propaedeutic of phylogeny, but more on the very chemistry of creation carrying its winged Lepidoptera tetra, pheromones, and the obfuscation of an elemental nascent child in his own evangelical philosophy from an inter-sword dimensionality, and of the gloom of a manger shouted Kafersesuh, before compendiums of two pyramidal landmarks of inflection of his word in created animals, in the affinities of the world and the Animalia, personalizing shepherds carriers of pollinations, totalizing the generational of the language that is concealed so far, as well as the turns in the musks, and their legitimacies from the Baptistery of the Shepherds in Ein Karem, parabolizing their nomenclature and Polygonia of a child made man, already coexisting! but representing himself as a lifeless man in the fullness of a child of a distinguished canon. and his legitimacies of the Baptistery of the Shepherds in Ein Karem, already coexist! but representing himself as a lifeless man in the fullness of a child of a distinguished canon, that followed him towards the superlative moment of the bending near him, twisting and changing squeezable pressure in the cords that forged his path, towards the cornices and trusses of the upper celestial vault, where the shed of doubts was next to the Cherubs. Giving mechanics to the prism that arched the beams in the horizontal lines, taking them towards the amplitude of other lines, which remained solid before the variation, suspecting mutating to one of sudden two-dimensionality. The sections of the timber framework, which looked fatigued before the primary classification, which showed the attitude of the little Messiah, taking out effulgence from its beams, and rolling on other pillars, postponing the vectors of the tangential, contributing bits in rhomboid specialties, that blurred the cylinders of amplitude and field of vision of all those who remained in their nativity. Making diametrical glances so as not to be distracted and adore him with a broad and rectilinear heart, in transversal visualizing for all, the one-dimensional crossed wood, which in its geometry schematized letters and numbers of kabbalah, which differ in dissimilar resistance of Christic ambivalence, as a forerunner of martyrdom. on the wooden cobblestone of Golgotha. This presaged capacities to read them in the Torah and Zohar, gathering everything in a whole, in those vivid tormenting lapses that he felt in advance, as reversible entropy, turning their substance to prepare them for the day of an abolished martyrdom. Making diametrical glances so as not to be distracted and adore him with a broad and rectilinear heart, in transversal visualizing for all, the one-dimensional crossed wood, which in its geometry schematized letters and numbers of kabbalah, which differ in dissimilar resistance to Christic ambivalence, like the anticipation of martyrdom on the wooden cobblestone of Golgotha. This presaged capacities to read them in the Torah and Zohar, gathering everything in a whole, in those vivid tormenting lapses that he felt in advance, as reversible entropy, turning their substance to prepare them for the day of an abolished martyrdom. which differ in dissimilar resistance to Christic ambivalence, like the anticipation of martyrdom on the wooden cobblestone of Golgotha? This presaged capacities to read them in the Torah and Zohar, gathering everything in a whole, in those vivid tormenting lapses that he felt in advance, as reversible entropy, turning their substance to prepare them for the day of an abolished martyrdom, pigeonholed him towards a pre-existing Hellenistic aspect in characteristics of patronage as a representative figure of a male, and a lady of Ptolemaic Egypt in great iconic religiosity, coexisting as a priestess of a female order in the Greek protocols with him. Becoming inseparable in the preeminence of mother and son, as unilateral gender, and of substantial element for the social and political order that reigned in the ancient era. Laying here the unilateral gender indispensable for the social and political order, which is substantiated at the dawn of the empires of all the time, and the patriarchal society? Symbolically Joshua in this cogitabundant providence, adds the feminine value in the society in the Kafersesuh's outlet of the Judah manger, dispensing mainly to women, A great Zohar light, gathered all towards a whole in those errors that Joshua felt in advance, as reversible entropy, giving back his wise existence to prepare them for the day of his sacrifice. Pre Existing in catharsis and substance of divinity connected with the phylogenetic species, classifying up to an Aramaic pontificate of pheromones settled in the lithospheric site of Gethsemane, in a biological sense and in close coincidence in lapse wading, or the phenomenological simultaneity of Eukaryota and Glaucophyta until late Animalia, giving relation parental in characters of the vibrational timbre of the Beams, and its atavistic pedestal, readapting in evolutionary ellipticals of winged tetra species. Allowing to change the ancestral linguistic accouterments in processes of redesigning the divine genetic historical tree and increasing anomalies in the human earthly culture, and not human anthropomorphic in a reviving profanity of fruitive frequency amplitudes, for those who resort to it, monopolizing and synchronous in diachronicity of their specimens. The lights of Joshua's gazes are the Light of Christian Life and Time, in the entity of Joshua born and bloodless from the nature of Child-Man, but of mortal design in the same compulsion to see the luminescence of life in the manger Kafersesuh and only incorporeal unity. Being in exemption from Ego with its structure of living child and dead man, he rushes rebellious and ostentatious in the architecture of the One-dimensional Beams, yielding the glimpse of the aforementioned progenitor "Eye versus Eye", seeing himself like this..., son hovering in the arteries of a Universal-Duoversal life, from a single dimension of cyclical one-dimensional length, encompassing conjecture and biological, the symbolic-allegorical conception of extreme co-divinity, as an exclusive precept of the delicate infinity of the Being of a Messiah, with paraphrases or glosses of Aramaic exegetical affinity, tracing from a linguistic period. Here are the contortions of the Olive Tree Berna, transfigured into everlasting orality and refractory syllable, to incubate eternal rabbinic gifts of perpetual reluctance, beyond the reach of the ego-annihilating will and of apathetic, inert ultra-affections and of miraculous phenomena.

f) Hexagonal Birthright

Civilization has an arched inflection in its regency at the head of the favorable family caste in the blessing, whose hiding place will have to be entrusted to a clan, having to make inquiries that formerly only related to consanguineal minorities from the same family trunk, thus protecting the pantries and accessories in warfare to consolidate the economy, and invigorate its commercial coffers. The land would be and would be an essential partition insignia for the legitimate transmission of epochs and inter-seasons, which received them from its descendants for representation of geomorphological heraldry, given in its regional condition. In the noise of the seventh seal, heaven was silent for half an hour and the seven angels stood before God, and they gave seven trumpets, the other is to appear in front of the altar with a golden censer, to compile it in other prayers in all the saints, on the golden altar that was in front of and in front of the throne - And from the hand of the angel the smoke from the incense with the prayers of the saints - And the angel took the censer, and filled it with the fire of the altar, and threw it to the earth; and there was thunder, and voices, and lightning, and an earthquake - And the seven angels who had the seven trumpets got ready to blow them - The first angel sounded the trumpet, and there was hail and fire mixed with blood, which were thrown upon the earth ; and a third of the trees were burned up, and all the green grass was burned up - The second angel sounded the trumpet, and like a great mountain burning with fire it was hurled into the sea; and a third of the sea was turned to blood - And a third of the living creatures that were in the sea died, and a third of the ships were destroyed - The third angel sounded the trumpet, and a great star fell from heaven, burning like a torch, and it fell on a third of the rivers, and on the springs of the waters - And the name of the star is Wormwood. And the third part of the waters became wormwood, and many men died because of those waters because they became bitter - The fourth angel sounded the trumpet, and the third part of the sun, and the third part of the moon, and the third part of the stars were smitten, so that a third of them would be dark, and there would be no light in the third part of the day, and also at night - And I looked, and I heard an angel fly through the midst of heaven, saying with a loud voice: !!

"Being in six instants at the Golden Gate of Jerusalem with Saint John the Apostle, they reordered the majority for a protected subordination in the minor family descended from the eldest son, for the purpose of sustaining them to reach the possession of their theological morphology, in this door, being the only one that will remain closed…, until the second coming of the Messiah. The scheme of the camelids in their osteometry tells us that their heads before Advent! Distorted their calypso lights on the surface of their skeletons, locking the jaws of other camelids, thus bypassing the Apostle's strap, which through the foramen of the supraorbital, thickened the strides that pretended immobile before the opening of the Golden Door. Of course, they were prisoners of their self-denial for the length of their footsteps to the rhythm of the sensitive skulls, In the fourth camel Raeder, he cleared the margins that allowed them to increase their attempts to withdraw them from the golden doors, but the dislocation of the orbits of their ocher eyes, denoted their holes in the condylar fossa, distancing the vicinity of the Tehillim advocated by King David in the Seventh Seal of a stuck Giga Camel. The metric form innovates them of ubiquity, for omnipresence in the camels before the gates, and after the gates, thus leaving the site of the eighth gate, deserting the camels behind the gates and arcades pointing to the old cemetery. of the prophecies that Elijah holds, and in procuring generational stoning of inter camelids, which would be channeled into twelve plus another dozen, but behind all, appearing to be six, later joining King David, who would provide the parallelism of the Seventh Seal. This caravan was numbered from one to six, saving the vertices of the Golden Gate that joined modestly at the odd vertices, under the odd cross of the same vertex, which made the equilateral coherent according to the three angles where Vernarth and Etréstles went, and then joined other pairs of vertices in a crucified chain in the flat and secondary complementarily of the seventh angel, but with epilogue character of the Seventh Seal. Thus it would be numbered according to the Gigas Camels, the Golden Gate, governing them for a family of six family angles and a seventh seal, for the performance of the family sustenance of primogeniture in the reinsertion of Saint John the Apostle, since he was banished by Emperor Domitian. Making themselves succulent of the gold of the Seventh Seal, on the collective unconscious of the first-born, for the good of the sub-genitor son. Here the indication goes for the purpose of populating the consecration of granting greater goods to those who second and could lead forces of abandonment and secular sedentary, for the need to welcome sacrifices of goodness and preferences of lay annoyance and earthly secular strengthening. The kinetics would move the six numbered over the vertices of the Sun in three bevels, joining the pairs in vertices covered in the circumscribed mesh of vehemence, which is impacted with the solid Golden Gate of Jerusalem, depositing the concentric radii of the polarized magnet on the struts of the camel of the central ram, for the affinity of the contraption of a trajectory for all Judah, in six predestined latitudes to Ein Karem, in the Hexagonal Baptistery of the Shepherds".

With symmetrical scrupulousness at a certain time, the rounded bisector of the psychic lines of the peritoneum fold of the solitary flanks of the Camels Gigas, towards a vocal peritoneum set six times more than a seventh, was estimated, in the apothem of the two-dimensional figure of the Febo hexagon angel, with less centrality, for the foundation of the Apostle and Vernarth, regulating them by points and sides, on the perpendicular bezels, prostrating towards a more orthodox and straight line, mutinying with radials phases on the bisector..., giving a quotient of odd numbers, which cut the first round of anointing, among all those that were retained in the daydreams of catching them for involuntary deaths. From Gaugamela's stratagem, three thousand muscular Hetairoi descended, towards the implantation of heart nuclei in the camelids, on the Susa Gate and the oblique break marching towards the war site, creating a fissure between camels, and the sphinx of Alexander the Great breaking into the Left-wing of the Golden Gate. This was the casuistry of Vernarth's psychic advance impetus, who once was at the precise moment of stalking, hypnotizing the gap of the Achaemenides, but unaware of that mechanical moment, persists in going after the Giant Camels. He guided them with his right hand to both sides, equipped with heart irons that exorbitated the whispering of his pectoral canals, interrupting the dawn of the Cinnabar, with the antigen readjusting the hinges of the door before falling untimely. Vernarth, with his sinister, calls upon the Hindu family who tried to open the breach of Alexander with his Macedonian baggage, thus preventing him from lying in the reliquary in contrition towards Vernarth himself. The infamous moment must have passed through the swords of some who resisted when fleeing from the held Golden Gate, giving up the rear of Vernarth with the camels recovered and saved from the abandonment of their afflicted hearts, resigning themselves with empty hands and with an outpouring of victory, but with two units confronted in his Portal of Imagination.

g) Reflection temporality

In cavern series, the lava was converted into cations of hydronium, in underground pits that glowed in Tsambika's temporality when the homily was officiated. Some pieces and calcareous boulders rotated random by the humid and dark narrowness of the subterranean reflection, having lived in the heavenly paradise that formed them by the volcanic tube and its syngenetic, by the erosion of the subsoil of Rhodes. The speculative rock icons expired of the symptoms, with albuminous cliffs of the genetics of the Theoskepasti chapel, Etréstles carried under his arm the expiration contract of the Universe, to deliver it with his signature, for the dimensional transfer will. Everything flourished with attractive mineralization systematizations, under an astral posology, In the cognitive, Kanti memorized his wanderings in Crete, imagining his physical body united with his mind on the paths of the shoulder of his ancestry, with batches of clockwork that went and passed through his physiognomic, bathing with the piece wind, but also with the hard shoulder that came straight towards him, showing him new encephalic pathways, which surrendered in epistemological globes, but levitating in excess of the hard shoulder and the unknowns, for states of temporality that became mentalized in pursuit of a supra desire..., disease or typologies long-standing who used the supposed ontological formalization, gave functioning the property of body with the memory of advanced towards a new Duoversality. The officialization of Ars Choralis, is solemnized for processes of emotional property; In this way the cave of Being and its Temporality is made haughty, self-isolating for intra-cave investigations, as corollaries and agility in those who yearned for identity, being able to attach themselves to deities in dozens of epicenes, which would be from tens to ten, thus being seventy tens and a half, which would be seventy-five of the seven tens, and of the unconscious of the syntagm that Etréstles carried away, separating the syntactic of the Vas Auric hypothesis, so that they coexist..., although the pestilential decays before the rolled-up syntactic of Kanti's head. Untreated and conscious-unconscious to his instinct, resorting and harassing the procedural bars, of the Ergo Sum parameter. The temporality of reflection, In momentum ac Diadem, it shone from the third trumpets of the Seventh Seal to the potential of the twilight corrodes and their regions that made the shoulder of the shoulder the awareness of temporality reflected in required dismayed collectivities, to transcribe exhortations to the behavioral pattern of the temporality of love Faust. Little remains immobile, little drive when two masses of consciousness withdraw to the storehouses of the Universe, already advantageous of their exhaustion, but inheriting them in precipitous emotions towards the pre-consciousness factors in the heights of the mountains of Crete and Kímolos.

Kanti the steed says: “Deus Nostri Pontificatus Annis et ad eum, God is my pontificate and my way to Him…, Adonis in the relative absence of credit, before Ephebos with absolute deafness, surprising me here in the Diospyros and neuro archetype flight. I ride farther than my physical-emotional, contributing in the micro-fusions of the tubules, in quantum, and interacting with the fineness of the minuscule substance, within themselves. Almost injuring the storms that vibrate in the mine of a risk prop of a steed, in pursuit of a trance that only ends up being the architect and augur of knowledge..., of when and where it agonizes more than once, but within the limit of the Duoverse crushed at his own peril, continually evaluating himself to transfer a genetic force into my hooves of solid steel, but ornamental and of Reflected Temporality.


h) Expansion and Aramaic Taxonomy

Organic taxonomy, as a pre-ordering order, classifies the harmlessness of language before the invasion of Alexander the Great. Although there were implosions of the Greek language, its transboundary taxonomy would be shifted towards Judea. Pre cited is its variant pharyngolaryngeal tracheo, in this assertiveness and occasionality, it predisposes emphasis on orthographic rather than phonetic incidents, citing Galilea as a precursor of the Aramaic and taxonomic thesis of Gethsemane, prior to its expansive conventionalism of enrapturing her in her differentiation, and in the expansive hotbeds necessary to channel the basic axons of commerce, between antiquity under the prerogative of supplied ethics and pre-classified inputs, such as food and geographic furnishings of economic arts, as well as, the syntax of words that could have curvature and geometry in the forms or linear designs of the time. Any letter could be interpreted as a physiognomic form or as tools of manifest imperialism, coexisting execrable or blessed as languages or keys of immunological communication, with symbolisms of languages spoken in rituals of systematization, and of obfuscation of a metaphysical Messiah, always an angel, for when this is the case. In other words, the water speaks to him in dialects and adults with an oriental language, appearing cryptic in the appointments that are related to the language of the great Extra Universal heritage.
Vernarth's Aramaic is an ***** composed of valuation graduation and generational expansion, opening evolutions combined with the matrix of “Ethereal Spatiality”, towards a channel or rib with a common end in what is done on the margin of Faith. and it is predestined on the basis of object and substance, as a regulatory organism, for groupings of species within the biological language or not, as well as in the fissure of a Cladia of lichen fungi, forming the optics of expression as spelling and not as a utilitarian concept. Amplifying what a camel is; this is how it is importunate, being its **** consensus with the "S" backward in a perfect camelid, the "T" also being a perfect Cobra approaching the three S's of the Syriac Aramaic alphabet. The “Y with L fused” of the Aramaic alphabet with a large elephant, and finally the “H” as a pelican simile, like the pelagornithids or Pelagornithidae, fossilized in the emotional collective of rock tribes, progressing from elephants, camels or pelicans in the search for a literate language and consonant shapes that are attributed to their jaws and pharyngolaryngeal substrates..., observing long vowels, as in the language of an organic universal alphabet. The matrix is timeless, branching out of the mechanics of natural and phenomenal selections, if it is metaphysical or is contributing Demiourgy on the infinity of the encodings or depending on the size of its geo-referencing, it will contribute energy exchanges with predictive purposes of information of orders, and adaptations of the calcified scientific space, Vernarth, dives into the ponds or Naídes of the Aegean and survives, just when the networked volcanoes were swallowing all the seas in the world. It braced being only part of the laps of the sea, tattooing with its gaze the chthonic nymphs, before envious and backsword ogres with gills, which multiplied more than any myth-poetic. Its power of convergence is inhibited by the poetic myths of primordiality and of cosmology as a natural branch in nautical miles traveled by its arms, without knowing who crossed them, survivor, in its advance, and treasuring the arm plunges on and under the scalded clay objects, perhaps as implantation of the muddy and hyper-flood lexicon, empowering itself in its translation from Syria to Patmos, and from linear B Mycenaean to Syriac Aramaic languages,


i)Sub - Verthian Mythology (Camera Obscura)

Adhered to the ancient parallels of the cult, the mythology of Horcondising lashes out. Stale and axiomatic source of pragmatic and rational earth that emanates from this constrained fusion of the Universe in the metamorphosis of Duoverso-Horcondising. Social and genealogical plates date more than seven hundred years from Lombardy and northern Venice in Italy, Spain, and France. The mission of the Horcondising is the transhumant myth, and Chaos of the ancestral family cenacle, in view of a family rule, succeeding in continuous litanies that consecrate rites beyond genetic archaeological death. The consolation of souls will revive and will be under the edict of the Sub-mythology in repose landing in successive parapsychological regressions, which will speak of deaths suffered at the edge of their test tube lives, Under the mythology, there is the sub-fable, prone to boundaries where the statement innovates the entire structure of hermeneutics, as a written notification and complacent verb, for lords of the grass and granaries of granaries, narrating myth-stories in messes of revived verbality. Thus in Rhodes and Patmos, Andronicus of  Rhodes will guard the doorway of his hobbies again, so that these disciplines are conducive to sponsorships of words under reasons of a nature concerning Saint John the Apostle risen in flesh and spirit, in contrast to the conclusions of the reason to leave breathless the destiny that the just cheer and disapproval of diction of not certain science, under ships that cover the commendable salvation in exegetical storms that go from a liberated shelter, as well as in what differs from the et Grammatica institutione arithmetica in that each one writes what it understands, and adds what humanistically makes existence in a biblical alphanumeric dimension, from the imaginary in some of its leaders such as Zefián, Borker, Leiak, Kaitelka, in Hyperdisis and the Zig Zag Universes. Making the mythical an ensemble with deities that rule the infinite, achieving more secular religiosities than in a radius of religion, founded by characters that are already pagan mythology. This is the raison d'être of the sub-mythology, which springs from one already narrated and rationalized, but in the contradiction of what underlies under the very observance that unites itself, forging itself creditor of very new myths within others, with characters that have never been or have been parasitizing on another source of cognition. Thus becoming extensive and prolonged in its passage liers sumptuousness of other arcane myths, within the same ones that inhabit the mythological lie, without blemish from veracity belonging to the living-lie in pursuit of a dead-truth. Even if it is in this way or hermeneutic method, continue to beat and go to meet the Castellar Imaginary del Horcondising and the Camera Obscura, which always live and revive in the sub-imagination, but from a mythical truth in a regime of multitudinous voice. and myth-poetics.

From the sooty Camera Obscura the spindle was obtained over the diameters of each edge, Vernarth of the same chaos, converged from the square but not the spherical world, from this sooty box together with his master Zefián, who polished and shot vines of light over the projection of the same box, and of the quantum ark on the acropolis of Leiak, simulating entelechy in its projection with the ultraviolet light of light similar to the earth, but not square, rather appearing to be a square sphere. After repeated intervals, Vernarth opened the slits of his hands, also hollowed, here other globules appeared but not spheroids, rather quadrilaterals at the end of the third phase in the last three series that showed the complete reflection of a tiny world, that just clamored for amnesty as a matter that had been beginning to form with another factor on a large scale, from this fractality that would appear as Vernarthian sub-mythology. Camera Obscura, in a combination with twelve atomic masses, stands out starting in the irradiation of sexagesimal nomenclature; imagining fractionality between sixty microseconds to sixty in the hexagonal polygon of the Primogeniture and the Baptistery of Ein Karem. Being used in the elevations of the stars and the Heliac Ortho of dawn, which would find the black box that was nailed in its twelve apostolate angles. The whole times were divided into more exact numbers that surrounded him in his Camera Obscura doing trigonometry with other rectangles of three equilateral, making multiples of twelve on the line of the hypotenuse of sixty, dividing by the hexagonal, which is the angular line of the six sides of progression of the Duoverse becoming a spheroid square, for an analogy of Hexagonal Birthright with the multiple of twelve for the sake of the Giant Camels, leading them to the obfuscation of the Horcondising fused with the Duoverse, by means of Pi (π), in the diameter equidistant between the Universe and the Duoverse disintegrated in two by the concentric radius of both geometric units. In the same way, Vernarth multiplied the existence of his new sexagesimal world in nths by sixty followed by infinite numbers of zeros, canceling the radical time of the masses of anodyne particles. The corondels or watermarks, overflowed with all the irregularities of the system, showing the decimal after the comma.


j)Verthian Apostolic Conception - Kashmar

Vernarth, was in Sardinia in the megalithic complexes Nuraga when he conceived his apostolate as a messenger, biologically entrenched in the taxonomic stasis, with a merely profane and urban framework. Whose classification he would transmit to his relatives after long periods in Macedonia, sailing and doing his falconry and philosophical avant-garde chores with Aristotle, in a laxity that invited him after long rejoices to record and sculpting messages with the doves of his village. Near Pella, in the central region of Macedonia, where his general Alexander the Great resided, south of the Axio River, his abode was nomadic and was on a hill near the lakes and mountains surrounded by Greco-Barbarian inhabitants, tracing the Chalkidian league., after the Peloponnesian War. He was in great campaigns in the former Pella, His will as an artist is precisely to be an apostolate of a thought that would intersect with the Yahwist gift to an apostolate of the Apostle Matías, whose connection would provide his transliteration of the post-mortuary link of the Jesus of Nazareth, replacing Judas Iscariot, due to his apostasy. Vernarth, distressed by this episode, became Commander of Alexander the Great, lying already primitive in his ranks of Hetairoi, transcending over the scourge of Judas Iscariot, to face in the arena of Pella. In a reverie near the Thermaic Gulf, he genuflected under the sacrosanct trees near some illustrious Kashmar Cypresses, channeling his furious and tramontane spiritual into the gulf, to take him out of a banal summer in the transition of an immolated soul, and make him walk for thirty days barefoot, without sweet potatoes in his hands to ego stone him, only naming him slavish stubble of the crops in the deleterious nesting places of the Ravens of Kashmar, bidding him so that his blood is ****** by the heels of the rooted trees of Thor forest, usurping his "Gift of Iahvé ”In dishonor of its Hebraic appellation, for the onomatopoeic of its rhetoric, resulting from the feckless roar of black lineage, which will emanate from the mouth of the Aulos, whistling inside the Cobra. In the aforementioned link, the group of twelve was recomposed, being in the gulf and in the incidences of the re-indoctrination of the twelve apostolates, he is with his prayer and atonement in the mystical character for the community worshiping the Kashmar; which roots hardened towards the silent immolation portent as Judas entered the black night, for excessive twists of the bifurcations, intertwining with the Beams of the Thermaic cliff, like a lynx observing the height and its prominence in that of Judas dwindling over the stained areas of hell..., thus its remains were scattered by the synod of bustard birds in the sprayed sky of globular creation, faded by conclusive hordes of the late Neolithic Druid and by the deity Belinus, with ingots of sooty petrified poplar from Hecate boiling in the Underworld. We shoveled over the holm oak groves and their trees, sacralizing their factotum after the ritual of the sanctuary of the thus his remains were scattered by the synod of bustard birds in the sprinkled sky of globular creation, faded by conclusive hordes of the late Neolithic Druid and by the deity Belinus, with ingots of Hecate's sooty petrified poplar boiling in the Underworld. We shoveled over the holm oak groves and their trees, sacralizing their handyman after the ritual of the sanctuary of the thus his remains were scattered by the synod of bustard birds in the sprinkled sky of globular creation, faded by conclusive hordes of the late Neolithic Druid and by the deity Belinus, with ingots of Hecate's sooty petrified poplar boiling in the Underworld. We shoveled over the Holm oak groves and their trees, sacralizing their handyman after the ritual of the sanctuary of the Dodona, in uniformity towards a murmur in the leaves from oak in the spell of man towards an oracle, to consummate it with the mendicant count of the Ziziphus Spina-Christi; hawthorn of the crown of Jesus but with implants of Kashmar, on the crown of Judas already immolated.

Vernarth walked alone through the inlet of Skala, on Patmos, when he had to undertake a trip to Judah, even so, he also walked bi-location in the inlet of Sardinia, after being in the megalithic complex Nugarhe, Vernarth, Etréstles, and Walekiria, they approach matching Tuscany. Once they were instantiated in Sardinia, a coastal sailboat transported them in the middle of a stormy day, it was a great happy day to arrive in La Spezia. Here they parked at night following the Liturgy, standing out those that coincided with Lent of Holy Week, where one day they were seen talking with Petrarca and Laura de Noves. The olive trees keep pietism with the phantasmagoria of the Kashmar, who made the double murmur of the spell of the Duoversal man. Always in Tuscany, the tracks below the garden have been occupied, which has a distant view of the roofs and towers of Florence. The monumental fountain set on a steep hill on a side flank of the garden terrace has a seated god flanked by lions in relief of stucco from a niche decorated with pebble mosaics and padded masonry. " Here at the Verbena of a long feast day, all together with Vernarth get drunk with Corinth Wine, which they brought and did not stop swinging to the rhythm of the music that made them foresee multi-existence beyond limitless sensibilities, turning their role closer to from the instigated destiny to Patmos in the hands of the original Duoverso with translation, rotation and Duoversal Theurgic orbit, for the spell-dogmatic invoking ultra-sensory powers of angels and gods, in order to signify with his country land near Pella,

k)Fractality and Spirit-Cinnabar Dynamics

In the black camera obscura, certainly connected blues made other dark holographic areas that were enlarged super connected to the optical perspective, conceiving of the infinity of a luminescence that was fractalized, the black-blue pre-existing towards the Z pattern = Exp (Z / OB ^ 4), what is the equivalent to the set of the Bernese Olive Tree Rapa, on the border of its Lipogenesis, which would appear in the chromatic version and final maturity of the olive tree, for the fractal exponential of Z =; where all the points of the complex plane Z = (OB, iy) are iterated in the corresponding function Olives Berna in a set of IY, and in all the iterations where an arbitrary constant (Cx, iCy) is added Cinnabar in lines of orthogonal sets X and Y, in such a way that the choice of the constant "seed" will determine the unique shape of the profile and the color of the fractal, once the chromatic pattern has been defined. In the paradigms shown in this continuation, a constant has been chosen, as it will only produce divergence and will have been qualified with the escape velocity algorithm, to contract exact self-similarity stratagems in this, which is the most restrictive type of car. -similarity; requiring the fractal to appear identical at different scales.

The holistic spórtula of the Cinnabar in some pecuniary exercises, are impelled for a tacit and absent society, in Every night beginning at dawn, everyone retreats and the Cinnabar appears like a kaleidoscope apostolizing in glorious joy, where the Aramaic synergy between the Garden of Olives and Gethsemane, is concatenated with the entirety of the Phylogenetic species with the homily in Tsambika and Theoskepasti, such as the new relationship of the link between species that were improper and endemic to the region near the stable in Bethlehem de Kafersesuh, to be inter-inseminated in the banks of the slopes of Gethsemane, in such a way, that the linguistics would begin to be absorbed in Joshua, and it would go for a closer shortcut towards the classification of the traditional and omnipotent variants, which migrated through the Olives to renew and preserve the Aramaic or Aramaic languages, from a shared origin now, for the omnipotent salvific languages that were to be addressed in Gethsemane. Once starting the splendor in the city of the eight gates, and from such interference, involve the Lepidoptera taxon, inseminating the populations of organisms related to lexicons to shed life and language,

l)Vas Auric – Cinnabar (Φ)

The pecuniary prerogative of spórtula, makes the Vas Auric and the Mandylion its residence, tending towards an algebraic sense of the two diametral in a cross by the perpendicular, towards the tension of the shortest segment by the long, tracing a circumference of radius and a half. Homologating in the interposed eclipse of the golden or golden number, for the divine proportion in consequence of irrational fractioning numbers. Shortening the passage of the algebraic numbers with the infinite decimal towards the Cinnabar with seven arches in parentheses reflecting in the partition of the apse in both temples of the homily, making the period of antiquity, files registered in mega center of the quantum memory of Cinnabar, before disrupting the genesis of the Duoverso.

The First Treatise of the Vas Auric fell into the hands of Vernarth, one day of heavy plutonium sheets en masse of the golden number. The vertical avalanche was segmented when the dichotomy of another line that collided with the segments was not altered, or rather omitted by certain temporary blindness of the Duoverso world that it just boasted. Compositions of number Z are made, and subdivision in its cinematographic optics, divided into two slow shots of a small element that became part of the controversy of Vas Auric as a medallion and Auric as Mystic Gold, with distribution laws.

"Zeus wakes up shaky, full of headache saturated in Pro-headache Herbs
Jophiel is speaking this time in the Kabbalistic Torah language...
with its golden commoner and super zone of Organikon Sorousliston Papadikon….
secular music that supplies Zeus with protein albumin,
to make him more human... Zeus accepts Jophiel placing him in his discernment
over the house of Jophiel; divine island to throw cartomancy...
bring the second ray to the Sahasrara on his crown,
pacified love that is the suspicious and risky loser of everything...
risk in the head, especially when condemnation is born!

And the floristics, over the stolon of the veins, moves synchronously with the prolongations, speeds, and acceleration of the emancipated leaves of the first order of the upper crown, up to the lower ones, thickening the golden spirals of a certain type of inflorescence, confining the umbilical zones of Vernarth, and the plantar area of its feet between three and more than a hundred steps that come from certain metamorphoses, creating peduncular areas, acting as a support for Vernarth and its Elder areas, brought from the Bumodos stream, after a string therapy, creating psychic supports to endorse globalized neuralgic. Understanding that the line of his neuralgia oscillates the greater analog of the Messiah in the cross pierced by the Hastae Praetorian, in the most remote of the elliptical of pain, reduplicated by accumulated energy, almost like mystical suffocation. On the part of the growth of the tangent in growth and of the evolution of the reflection, where the attenuation of the opposite effect is unleashed, allowing convalescence zones in signs of propeller blades around the Vas Auric, crossing vertical and horizontal beams of lights, in search of Light Angled and refractory solar, for the palfrey of the Kanti Steed, abstracted from excessive rain, which uncrossed the tempos of the aura of the organic and aerial underground, towards the duplicity of curves of the multi-cloned numbers and angered by their industrious dynamics of skewed movement, towards the effective solar..., tending to the effects of successive trends of the vaporous numeral of Vas Áurico Cinnabar.

m) Psychic Trisomy

The species and somatic acquired deposits of DNA spirals, given their characteristics, will make transformations in more than one cellular taxon for a homologous pair. Here Kaitelka the whale down from Sub-Mythology, will circle in the Baltic Sea, compromising neuralgia in it as a superfluous essence due to its trisomy, making a comparison with psychic trisomies that Vernarth suffered at least four times a month, from the first and eleventh day, after his parapsychological regressions when he sailed over abysses and anesthetized zones on glacial plankton in the North Sea. Kaitelka individualized her cellular regressions, becoming a prehistoric cetacean and when she lagged beyond or before her creation, she transferred psychic trisomies due to her twenty-one chromosome. Kaitelka's karyotype was directed towards the crease of her eyes, due to an infection in the area of her basal inter fins, which disturbed her heart rate in a short interval where Poseidon magnified her coefficient in high amplitude, after being inseminated in a tempered state and gifted as a Super Goddess. Kaitelka in nativity in the transversal valleys sailed in the air atmospheres of Hyperdisis, and she was always seen in the company of Leiak; the omnipresent and vague spirit of the watery ductile dancer, living on the liquefied element with his astringent slimy chin..., seeing him with his grotesque back-breaking swampy lines between knuckles, and hedges of tricks collected before the first station, in one of the first of the three Remaining nights before reaching Joshua de Piedra del Horcondising volcano, that upset her heart rate in a brief interval where Poseidon magnified her coefficient in high amplitude, after being inseminated in a moderate state and gifted as a Super Goddess. About seven hundred meters high she becomes Kaitelka Down godmother, adding the psychic chromosome twenty-two that contracts in the connection with Vernarth, in the extravagant massifs when in the autumn afternoons they collect Ceratocystis fagacearum Fungi, and irradiating them with insects such as the borers. When   Kaitelka recovers its chromosome by detraction in the natural selection of Trisomy, express is spilling on the dry and gelatinous Laurus leaves of all its dead cells, which are promptly seeped from the retracted membranes in frank adhesion, causing regeneration of the disease. After wanderings and ringed symptoms of lesson in the atmosphere of the ecstatic Horcondising, the wooly will be magnanimous and challenged from the chromosome spilled in the emulsion, is contained in the alpha proteins in the transverted Vernarth genome, as a warned whole and abundantly diploid, before reaching the lethal processes of reciprocal adversity, both as a zoo-anthropoid or a triple zoo-anthropoid-botanical effect. Pre-Existing Kaitelka Down with forty-two chromosomes (22 pairs) and the Lepidoptera Agrodiaetus (134 pairs), in its haploid, that is, half remains vitalizing between two species of the sub-mythological world, and in its psychic cellular compound, and later implant it in germ cells for the effect of Venarthian ambivalent psychic transmission and vice versa. By discard, there are four fewer chromosomes than the hommo sapiens and 222 less than the Lepidoptera Agrodiaetus, for a meta sense of flourishing with the power of Poseidon, brother of Zeus, Meta sense and discernment, encephalic they will be cogitated by conscious where their sensory cognitive is interrupted, towards an unconscious through the photons of hypocaloric temperature, to define in the prehistoric psychological memory of their psychic, more than random brain, coexisting of habeas corpus content and remote brain energy, before the magistracy and power of Poseidon that confines him. Graduated from southern impassable seclusion, their memory is isolated in their E-Cloud. Namely; stored in electromagnetic and electrophysiological stimuli, incontinent and weighted in the square miles of floating Poseidon outbursts, in the category of super cetacean down, with only four meager chromosomes from the remnants of the human procedural genome. The trisomy field, On the fourth of August of the year of the Lord, 1617, when Klauss Rittke was cleaning the main stained glass window of the Cathedral of Avignon, he heard heated dialogues between a Friar and a Gentleman, who was once an assistant to the clergy. Klauss could come closer and listen to their conversation more clearly, until the Friar Andrés Panguiette, babbling, demanded of Raymond Bragasse indulgence or one or the other. (Compendium of Marielle Quentinnais). Relating in its narrative evolution, about some Albigenses of this work set in Avignon, time of the Antipopes, crossing with the psychic waves that have just been mentioned, and of prophecies of who precisely Guillaume Bélibaste was born into a Cathar family. Having noted that 1321 in 296 years apart from Marielle Quentinnais, it takes place in Carcassonne on the same day as Bélibaste was executed, given his licentious life breaking Cathar dogmas, incriminating himself with civilians from the region, marrying women in exile, etc., was condemned by the Holy Inquisition, where many were purged for the sole fact of holding biblical books in their abode. Among the flames of his bonfire the prophecy of the laurel will be homologated, whose shadow will fall on the centuries to come. Note the coincidence 3, 700 years ago, where the first signs of life were appreciated on our planet and in the Hylates Forest in Cyprus (700, 000 thousand souls) in the imprint that unifies the Christian scrolls, blowing gold dust on Walekiria's hair..., and being liberated, as a tantric body of physicality. No one spoke, not even the 700, 000 thousand souls who also claimed to be liberated (Vernarth, page 313 - paragraph 2). And finally the seventh portion of the sea, with Poseidon. Here the Psychic numeral of Vernarth and Kaitelka coincide, who appears with the laurel of Guillaume de Bélibaste after almost seven hundred years, facing the unification of the prophecy of the Laurel, whose shadow will hover over the centuries to come. Templars, perfect bone Hommes and Cathars meet, in this historical feat, through the secret path safe from traitors and conspirators thanks to the most surprising allies. Bélibaste's fast-paced story will allow us to get closer to the most unknown ceremonies and rituals of his confession, showing us his revelations in the flames and turning green in the Laurel of 1321 in sync with 2021. Given the little and nothing that exists of the revealing enthronement and the psychic environment, it should be noted that historical facts fly like pollen, with the waves in their same vibrations of the aeolian autogyro. This entails physical vibrational material, which is in every corner of existentialism, without beginning or end, only rewinding through the infinite axon of karma and samskara, for physical-ecological convulsed means and intermediates, in revealing semblances of the primitive psychic field before us, like the Aspís Koilé, as a shield or as an omnidirectional parabolic antenna, bringing us events after events that strangely interchange phases, and intertwined efforts over time in quantum physics and subsequent biophysical changes in the genome chain, especially in its Psychic Trisomy.

to be continued...
DUOVERSE
Mateuš Conrad Dec 2016
sometimes you look at these people and think:
is it better me drinking whiskey, or is it better treating
them ontologically as zoological specimen
                                                  and worth of caging?
i think that the Aristotelian awe-principle
for the practice of philosophy was
overly-exaggerated with dues
that consider science, i think that science
confiscated the emotional
imprint of philosophy that's bound to awe
and said: willcommen unto die phobia-realm...
which i still ascribe to postcolonialism...
  the times' propaganda say:
             arachnophobia is perfectly suited
to match-up to a billionth remark of Islam,
which is why i find Islamophobia so weird...
   arachnophobia consists of only one spider...
minding the phobic in Islam?
                          it's not a case of one spider...
it's a case of spiders...
                             they can't reason with
the Big Brother opportunism, which exists...
turning the blind eye won't help...
  it will simply aggrivate such people...
and using this language has created such
frustrations... correctly? aggravate,
dance of vowels. phobias aren't big, they're small...
miniscule... tell people that something is
small when it's actually big enforcers
a postcolonial past more so...
   i see these children like the psychotic reaction
to a prophesy kindred ot Harold II's slaughter
of the innocents...
                  they're there to edorese someone...
      after all: who gives a **** about these people?
                                                         ­  (endorse)
the psychiatrist gets paid, the mental health nurse
gets paid... why would they give a **** in a way
that says: i wasn't paid for this bollocking!
  maybe up in Manchester... but down here in London,
they don't buy disguises, you're
labelled Romanian: you're bound home where
you could have been a plumber but are reduced
to a straitjacket because: some ******* said
you didn't **** her... Philip Collins and hey:
welcome to paradise.
                        down 'ere in Loon-town you get
your money's worth...      
                   i wish they took care of me...
   silence pays... you get your cringe's worth of ****
to the Kilimanjaro's worth of calling
               bottled crema-foam on a phallus
an anorexia... as i see it: anorexia in Freudian lingo
is an objection toward treating ****** artefacts
in culinary terms... means that paradox
of having a cake and eating it too...
                obviously you'll sexualise problems...
i think anorexia is a question of making
          ****** parts culinary aggregates...
                i'm not jotting: girl, aged, 16, ***-starved..
i mean in general... making ****** objects
equivalent toward a culinary status for a care
to make them more appealing in being ******...
the anorexic might start thinking: so i **** it,
and don't eat it?   penguin clap for an icecream cone!
ruffian yoga minus the slippers and the seal clapping...
the loudest revision of applause: i can guarantee....
cos the flippers were wet... hence the additional
aquatic acoustic.
                    this is very much akin to that quantum
theory of: tornado at coordinate a.,
         and a butterfly as coordinate b.,
          i can see anorexia as a substitute to sexualised
preferences in making body-parts partially edible...
            i see **** i think of the cow's ******-pouch / pillow...
    i don't know, maybe because being in my 30s
i can still fake arousal when looking at it...
       i am not the original alienist... some martian
took my title role...
          but i can understand anorexia as a way to rebel
against putting potato mash and a steak and a few
veggies with the same duty nod as one might put
a ******* object into one's mouth and having to
a Werther's Original suckling tactic on it and
never attach a bone to it, i.e. never eat it...
      anorexia by my standard is verily sexualised...
   you put something into an open space and
it's almost a trans-transgender movement...
      which is why i find the transgender "curiosities"
obstructs in art... post-transgender occupancies
           are not reserved for the easily pleased...
anorexics are such people...
             this is sexuality confused with dietary requirements...
this isn't a circumstance of pronouns politicised
and exploits of modern medicine...
                   i do tend to abuse seafood
whenever i am cringed by the suggested floral pattern
whenever i dare not see the benefits of cesarean...
and i just can't see islamophobia fitting the irrational
rationality of other conscripted phobias...
          poor choice of Greek to be honest...
                      i think they're referring to:
a subtler suggestion, minus the crusading empowerment
that's yet to be honed on...
                        well **** yeah...
once you've actually a philosophy book,
   you'll become immune to any writing advice...
                you'll actually become immune
to advice for writers.... bhy writers... because you'll
realise their opinions are disputable and therefore
disposable... because they forgot that the one thing
that democracy hates... is its subversion,
                     art is the foremost stealth-seeker of
despotism in democracy... because it simply loathes
plagiarism... art is despotism in democracy...
               and it knows it... it's just too "shy" (aah...
wee wee poo poo) to admit it...
                 from what i learned from athos?
the best advice? is to not give any advice.
                    athos? alex dumas, the three musketeers.
the moment you finish a philosophy book,
a creative writing workshop and a quote by
Hemingway will seems as nothing but a bad dream -
these quotes come from people who abhorred
the mere concept of spelling, due and through
it being an "inconvenience"...
this is from people who suggested you were always
an incapable narrator without a daydream to
escape into... these writers began sounding like
your english teachers...
              then again... is sexualising problem better
than abstracting them? personally, and
without due approval: and all the more happy for
such a circumstance having been presented for me...
            we know the sane are too numerous
because they are allowed to make too much sense
of their dreams...
                     i contend anorexia, not as an eating disorder,
but as a disorder of a culinary aversion toward
          sexualising non-culinary objects in culinary terms...
or adding cream to the phallus or melted chocolate
to the ****...
                 i find that certain culinary objects are
oversexualised...
   and this is the norm: that extends into what
quantifies as the norm, for the norm is always
a quantifiable parameter than a qualifiable
      exchange, since an exchange never appreciates
     a qualification, or a grocer's worth of norm
for a conversation of two quid's worth of earning
equates to 20 tomatoes...
    we have assumed to know it all
whereas we are congregating in a plughole
     of close proximity prefixes, i.e.
re-: reflect, reflection, reflexion, reflex,
  reiteration, reimagining, retraction, reaffirmation...
    it's a tsunami of language / lounging with too
many images... it's "lounging" with too many images...
it's the proximity of prefixes... twinned with
the opportunism of the genus of synonyms creating
a deaf-shaft of faking rhetoric...
     i still placard the whole circumstance
a dance of vowels, or the unforced deviation of
keeping up an aesthetic....
                     no, i can't claim schooling,
because i don't want to claim being indoctrinated...
     and perhaps my Freudian is a little-bit
copper-wired / ageist...
                  but isn't food for the anorexic
  a bit like turning a ****** object into food
          for the ennobled aggregational stereotype?
the jokes aren't jokes for anorexics...
  the cucumber is doubly manifest
                         as both edible, as both sexually
arrogant... and thirdly as "inspiration" for
an architectural project...
                      oh **** fame... little albino blondie
can **** on my testicular cancer for all i care...
               and say the bulge was: like
******* on a cowish ******...
                                      i like puppets anyway,
cos i'm a bit laxed in that way...
                         for all the things that might be
given, of the few things that can't be translated
from house or car, or a wife and 3.4 children statistic:
personal integrity.
        obviously certain people can only hum along
to the achievements of a zenith's worth of a house
and a car and a dog...
                            personal integrity is almost too much
for them, such "essential" components of being
a human rather than doing a human reaction
       later involve the cliche of the ultimate gamble...
and we all know how humans love to gamble...
well... few ever manage to gamble the stake of:
a leap of faith... and we all know how Nolan's inception
         ends...           that's me seeing the film a few years later...
      so how does man, the gambler fair
   when he's asked to gamble with the odds
  leap ratioed against a stumble?
                                      numbered is that 10:1?
it's just fascinating that vowels are the sole assured
                        proprietor of "dyslexia",
or as i care to mind: even with a language proficiency...
and tongue-tied waggle that's excusable for
anyone ready to write something down.
      i can appreciate being an individual,
but i can't celebrate it... i'll only utilise my individuality
to create a new plateau, a norm, the most
distinguished liberalism of my individualism;
     i will only utilise my individuality to create a new
norm - and anything that comes against it:
can burn in hell.
WS Warner Sep 2011
Against the saturated
Horizon of dawn,
Loitering in the dark timbre
Of emerging consciousness -
Dissipating somnolence
And preemptive despair,
Tacitly adumbrate the
Yawning abyss.
Chastened by the cunning and
Lubricious nihilism,
Igniting fermented provocations,
Silent subterfuge; death,
By mirth - the inane;
Lament of the mundane.

Fallow paradigms, accretions of
The last gasp -
Evaporating empty liturgies
Of suspicion;
Charity and equanimity -
Lost in confinement,
Triumphant avarice bearing
Descendants
Of intransigence;
Wielding imperious
Schemes of orthodoxy.

Pollard fragments of
Silken tapestry,
Miasma draped depression
Abridging;
Conversely,
Permuted flurries of anxiety
Dislodge
The vestiges of meaning
That abide
In brazen equivocation.

Tributaries of dogma reach
Their confluence,
Watershed moment,  
Numinous effusion
Streams naked epiphany,
The precarious vision -
A gesture of providence,
Certainty and contingency;
Gratuitously derivative, life
Equals choice.

Verdant branches of intention;
And opportunity the vine,
Live forward -
The pen, my voice,
Piquant conduit pouring,
Exuberant wine.

Footprints found in givenness
Underline,
Penumbrae of my soul;
Mirrored silhouettes,
Thoughts and words engender;
And in verse adorn
Fecund soil, Line after line,
The cosmos altered,
Continuum of permanence -
Artist’s art articulating
Essence of my imagination,
I proliferate, I design
Phrases unique,
Participation mystique.

Words creating world,
The apparatus of infinity
Heidegger, ontologically precise,
Language -
The house of Being,
Ineffable, Promethean
Literary devise -
Envisioning possibility,
And abundance to allow,
I occur
Inhabit
Manifest
Future phenomena
Experienced as now.

©2008 & ©2011 W.S. Warner
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2018
what a shy event,
considering it,
to be supposed
to encompass, "life"..
a few fractures,
and an antithesis
of the river of Heraclitus...
the stillness of
the lake...
whereby Narcissus
was born...
           from the philosopher
of the river,
to the demigod of the lake...
to the god of the sea...
grandfather god Poseidon
begot
   the father demigod
of Narcissus...
who begot the son
                         Heraclitus...
what the sea is,
is what the river encapsulates,
which is what
the lake will never be...
the paradigm,
the writing of Heidegger...
spurned me to think,
to think, rather than "to be"...
how much of
cogito ergo sum
is ontologically, "satisfying"?
probably the nil of it...
counter Latin: in german:
denken werden sein?
oh, the ****-list goes on and on...
denken als sein?
   reiterate that for me...
in Latin...
               thought as the becoming
of being...
in German, first...
    denken als die werden von sein...
now in Latin:
   cogitatio quod dacens ex esse...
you know that almost all of
my childhood friends ended up
in prison?!
i'm just an oddity...
    i infiltrated the theater of
intellectualism...
   and i said: bogus, *******
and the supposed lost brimstone!
scent of cooked sulfur that stank
to the high  heavens!
free speech, blah blah,
"free" & "thought"...
whatever the **** that means...
an antithesis of a claustrophobia?!
thought?
thought is the equivalent
contraceptive in terms of being...
thought liberates, but also
provides constraints...
   thought is a being
that has non-being in its focus...
thought is a "being" that has
non-being as its focal point...
ontologically:
thought is a form of being,
that doesn't necessarily relate to
the existential "arithmetic"
of thought: thus done...
    thinking is important,
but it's completely unrelated to being...
the thing itself,
and then... the thing in itself...
and subsequently: the thing for itself...
phenomenon, noumenon,
phenomenon...
            since how much of
"thinking" is translated into
"being"?
             i guess... not much of it
is ever translated within the confines
of the imagery of a cascade /
a waterfall...
                      zilch...
  not a lot of thought crafts
the impetus to be...
as...
not a lot of being crafts
the impetus to think...
         coincidentally a lot of:
out of every instance / insistence:
i.e. existence, happens,
simultaneously to said expression.

sam cooke:

don't know much about history,
don't know much (about) biology,
don't know much about a science book,
don't know much about the french i took,
but i do know that i love you,
and i know that if you love me too,
what a wonderful world this would be...

i could write this candy floss *******,
point blank statement with
adverse feelings...
                 i have a pact of uninhibited
lying...
              i could lie... but then lying
requires a prior experience in lies...
and...
   i hate the economics of lies...
however much i might cherish
thinking, i seem to have picked
up a pattern whereby:
thinking doesn't translate into being...
so i guess...
      as much of thought goes
into being, as it goes into non-being...

and that being said:
what is post-existentialism?
                        ontology.
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2022
now that i'm relistening to this track, i remember the sole reason why i worked that dead-end night club job: to earn enough money to buy myself a mandolin... which i did: i entrusted myself to earn the money than to pocket the money out of my student loan... never mind picking up ****-filled bottles from the bathroom: being sexually assaulted by some ****** who thought that long hair was something akin to women and not to old-school metal-heads: which i was back then... you know: getting groped by the *** by some man who later thrusts himself at you while you're picking up ****-filled bottles of beer... oh sure: with retrospect he would have said fellow to my forehead... how times change... well yeah, i worked that job to buy myself a mandolin... which i did... for the sole purpose of learning the mandolin part of Rod Stewart's Maggie May... which i learned and played it for Fiona beneath her kitchen window in the student flats... she giggles blah blah... but... Maggie May soon turned into that other favorite song of mine: And One... Military Fashion Show... perhaps the music is sort of Disco Polo... but the lyrics?

cutest girl behind my door
everybody's hiding in love from war
the beauty broke down their chains somehow
who's gonna living on my body now?

a growing pain within my pop divine
will I ever regret the line?
switching on the light
i will not reassign
girlfriend's girlfriends never could be mine

drop her white pants wide open warm
now she's slipping on her uniform
and every second would become so mis-defined
girlfriend's girlfriends never could be mine

nope, i never had any luck with women, maybe i should have picked up gambling: but then again i don't like testing luck when it comes to being lucky with bus times... i like waiting for a bus for a minute... but with women, i sometimes observe my parents and then realise: ah... that's why i'm not married... makes perfect sense... the idea is lovely: i can never get over the idea of loving a woman, but then i realise a woman also has an idea what it implies to love, hardly a man, hardly a semi-automated thing, something that's offensively useful, from time to time activated but altogether sterile... hell: if it didn't take me playing the mandolin to a girl outside her window: Romeo is ****** as hell... Romeo is gone gone gone... the only luck i've ever had with women were with prostitutes, that realm of evidence where the transactional is up-front... there's no looping of paying for meals for cinema for celebratory self-congratulatory pieces of doodle / jewelry... there's just the up-front "rent" of a body... job done... let's get other aspects of "plumbing" worked on... i'm not even bitter... i'm just sort of: on a snooze button mentality, sort of sleepy... sort of disappointed... that? the men who wrote about love from the 19th century are antiques in the 21st century: not even 19th century folk: antique: pre-historic mentalities of the current zeitgeist of insomnia and over-burdening libido being frozen in a frenzy of self-doubts and self-appeasement of pleasures not met... by the other... i just feel disappointed by having invested so much time in Stendhal in Kundera... seems rather pointless...


i finally picked up my Trek mountain bicycle today
from the repair shop...
i came in talked all giggly and bubbly with
the owners... ah... Hemmingway got it spot on
in that novella of his of short stories:
men without women...
play cards, drink, tell terrible jokes...
make loads of oaths sparingly beginning
with the letter F...
i was told £75... but the guy comes to me and says:
the cassette has been worn down?
your advice? what's to be improved, how will
this affect my cycling?
blah blah this blah blah that... o.k. i know you're
trying to milk me... milk me but don't waste my time...
if it needs changing just tell me...
'oh, but we don't have the parts'...
o.k. ask your supervisor blah blah blah...
he comes back to me and says: oh he have the parts:
SUDDENLY... no no... not suddenly:
the customer, i.e. i... am willing to pay...
how much and how long?
£35... 15 minutes... great! do it! i'll go for a coffee:
which was a lie... i went for a pint
of Guinness and sat by myself like
some ******* portrait of an absinthe drinker
by Degas... they should do one of a Guinness drinker...
a person who sits alone and drinks a pint
of Guinness watching a table of about 5 men
and 1 ****-ugly woman drinking merrily enjoying
each other's company...
with the solo drinker lighting up a cigarette
and lighting up a smile on his face thinking:
oh thank **** i'm alone...
i used to drink with "friends": with people...
i soon realised... they're as much things as much as
i am a thing: sure... dehumanizing...
but so much of philosophy and of medicine
is infuriatingly dehumanizing in achieving
the pinnacle of objective-reason, no?
tell me, am i wrong?
            
i can tell you my favorite quote of mine:
i don't hate people... i just hate things...
it's not my problem that some people behave like
things rather than as people...
reality simply states: some people, simply have not
depth to them, or around them,
they are worse than thespians and thespians
are the worst: since thespians are the most eloquent
of thieves... they steal people's shadows...
they steal other people's soul... essence...
i hate actors with the same passion i abhor
the sceptics... add that to my list:
given these two strands of being and thinking
are the most popular in the current zeitgeist...

so i drank my pint of Guinness and walked back
to the cycling repair shop... picked up my Trek...
listen: i've been cycling for the past year solely on my Viking
road bicycle... neat handlebars...
i used about 4 maybe 5 gears to climb
elevations... or cycle harder: faster...
but neat handlebars... trim... a sense of a tuxedo smart...
neat: for moving between traffic... like all road bicycles...
he gives me my old Trek mountain bicycle back...
**** me!
i was riding a Lamborghini for a year...
now? i'm given a ******* SUV... Royals Royce!
my god... it's a Behemoth!
the handlebars are wide... the brakes? so easily accessible!
**** me for ****'s  sake...
too many gears... i must have been trigger-happy
when it came to gears... must have changed them
about 30 times... three gears by the peddles
and 7 at the rear... wheels... don't get me started on those...
with a road bicycle you have a width of about 23cm...
these ******* where thrice if not more at that...
so wide that they made a sound akin to
me thinking: where's the train? they made this weird
sound i couldn't possibly express with letters
to combat an imaginary words...
the closest approximate is a SHOOM / WHIZZ....
what does a thick rubber tyre make on
a pavement, rotating, that's not insulated
by a frame of a car? what?! exactly...
then add the elevation of the wind...
i simply can't write an onomatopoeia for that sound...
it's not as easy as meow or woof... or bark...
or howl... or coo... or the crackling grr of crow...
gurgling of a crow...
impossible...

tyres one aspect handlebars another...
hands out-stretched... which means? too much
availability of a manoeuvre...
that's what happens when the handlebars
are less restrictive... wide...
you have too much manoeuvrability potential...
you're like that guy inside a London black cab...
you can practically do a 180-turn...
become a dog chasing its own tail...
i used to love mountain bicycles... now?
i ******* hate them... i don't know why i spent
£500 on this piece of junk...
unless... i try it out on some dirt road...
fair enough then... but compared to a road bicycle...
a... kolarzówka... (road bicycle in ******)
no... not going to happen...
i though i was going to be happy to own two bicycles
and change from one to the other...
it's such a beast to ride... sure... it's aesthetically
pleasing to look at... even when school was out
and the boys were coming out of school:
one spontaneously announced thinking-aloud:
that's a nice bike...
yeah... nice to look at... yeah... sure thing mate...
great to look at... but a ***** to ride it...
compared to...                              exhibit (a)
a cheap £125 road bicycle with the right sort of
handlebars... mountain bicycle handlebars are
all wrong too wide...
you just can't handle such a beast on a long stretch
of road... you require something more
gravity driven / prone...
at least with a road bicycle you get to steer
with slight details of force going towards
the intended direction...
i think you must learn on a mountain bicycle...
to then explore the road bicycle...
but let me tell you... one you have mastered
the road bicycle... going back to a mountain bicycle
make-up it like going from Einstein to ******...
i was becoming queasy with too much maneuverability
in my hands and not centered in / with
my entire body and bicycle attached...
i know i'll think differently when i take
this beast into its proper environment...
i know that's what will happen...
but mountain bicycles don't belong in traffic...

aha... right... i almost forgot... just before i picked up
the beast from the repair shop...
i has in the supermarket picking up a bottle of cider
to keep up my stamina of: not bored...
no no... i'm not bored...  

onomatopoeias... i'm sure as a supervisor i told
some of the stewards that i'm only doing this job
for good reference: for references that might me
apply for a job as a chemistry teacher:
since familial ties of references will not allow you
to apply for the position...
last shift at Wembley some pink haired freak
of a beached whale of a male started to mouth-me-off
about jumping the queue...
i retorted like for like: you ******* see a queue
in front of me? i'm standing in the same *******
place! you ******* fearful of being called
a racist: you silly little thing of an anti-racist?!
you ******* HOG of what could have been
a woman... you afraid of insulating the Somalis?!
we know that they're like... that's how African
queues work... people jump the queue...
they huddle... Africans are not a Mongolian horde:
they're huddling people...
they stress themselves by the numbers
they're allowed / are given...
all the Europeans follows some details of
the aesthetic of queuing... the Africans?
**** me... they just inverted the bottle-neck...
if bottles were to be invented in Africa...
they wouldn't have a neck: they'd have an entire
******* torso... and be slim at the base...
that's how Africans behave ergo: think...
that's not racist: that's a ******* anthropologist tactic....
on the last shift this one Indian looking chap
said the following lines:

'don't think me of being racist...
but what do you think of these blacks?'

ha ha... one curiosity after another...
  i love mingling with people: you never know what
you're (n)ever going to get!
i'm working with this one "creature" who's super
clingy to me... adamant that he's anti-racist...
but... oops... slip... he's actually homophobic...
just because Brighton has a "reputation"...
but a staunch anti-racist.... yet a homophobe....
me? i hate *******...
esp. if you're collecting glasses in a night club
and you're getting groped by... some ******...
come on: a man with long hair is no excuse to
fiddle with my *** while i'm picking up bottles
filled with ****... ******* ******!

about blacks? well... what do i care if i already stereotyped
the Somalis as useless idiots... not even useful idiots
of Communist propaganda...
they're like the Irish... you simply psychoanalyse them...
they're so detached from reality that
they might as well be called Moonpeople...
Somalia best be called Moonland...
no, seriously: not as a racist (although i'd love to be one)
but as an anthropologist (these days?
an ethic apologist, if?!)
they are just that... devoid of reality sort of,
sort of... sort of... a sort of "people"...
a sort of "reality" is attached to them...

never mind that... i was in the supermarket buying a bottle
of cider... a woman with two young girls was making
her shopping... some BLEEP emerged from
the cashier's desk... some... BLEEP some BOOP...
hmm... we're talking primary school aged children...
children... completely un-fuckable... although as loveable
as dogs... perhaps even more:
since? you can't exactly mould a dog...
you can't mould a little Frankenstein of your own
with a dog... a dog is kept ontologically within
the archetypical exactness of what a dog is supposed
to be: what a dog is...
but man? oh... that's a completely different barrel of
laughs!
i stood behind the trio... and listened...

onomatopoeias... once those infernal instruments
made those sounds... the two girls mimicked...
imitated the sounds ...
i would be a terrible father... or perhaps the best...
i like the cognitive-focus on the negative:
maybe that's why i adore the cynics...
i adore the cynics and abhor the sceptics...
i like negative-thinking...
i once assured myself that negative-thinking
attracts... positive-being...
magnets... blah blah...

with i have on my heart's "conscience":
something so innocent... the cure's: a short term effect
from the album *******...
no... woman! no!
that trio of curiosity...
i was going to do an in-depth Kantian analogy
of the origins of the onomotopoeia...
it just so happened that i was walking behind them...
i'm pretty good at lip-readings...
too much exposure to headphones...
NEUROTIC BEASTS OF **** UN-******...
the ugliest women imaginable:
busy-body women.... UGLY *****...
MOTH-FRENZY-MOTH-*****....
i'm good at lip-reading...
oh look... a ******* is the area...

no... is just so happened that the trio bough
more goods that me at the store...
silly ******* agony aunt!
no! i was just going to ask
the two girls...that you spoke an onomatopoeia
without knowledge of what an onomatopoeia
actually is!
an onomatopoeia in the mouth of a child
is not actually a word...
it can't be... there's no rigid Apollonian "humour"...
when a child imitates a sound made by a
machine...
it doesn't imitate the sound with an allocation
of ascribing letters to them...
i could be the best father:
and perhaps the worst...
    i'd become too curios... i'd become a naturally
born scientist...
the mother? just ignored them...
but this **** of a THINFG threw empty accusations
into the air as if it were breathing...

i learned one valuable lesson on my own...
there are people... and there are THINGS...
me, what?
you ******* THING! remain INANIMATE!
sure... move... but remain without character!
did these girls have knowledge
of the "onomatopoeia" of an ONOPATOEIA?
too many ******* vowels..

that's Greek for you...
i'm a what? it just so happened that it's suburbia
and i'm walking behind a giddy trio....
i'm suddenly, what?! HIDE! HIDE... you neurotic *****!
you soothsayer you Satan's last **** available!
you mediocre human being!

how would they know... they're already exploring
onomatopoeias without knowledge of onomatopoeias ...
these creatures mimic... in fact: an onomatopoeia
is something that's to be exacted by being written...
these children... they are yet aware of letters...
letters beside nouns... nouns beside the concepts
of verbs pronouns and the like...

first i'll ask politely... secondly i'll ask less politely:
thirdly: don't tread on me..
fourthly: enough is enough...
but that's how life happens...
you exit the mind-set of... it's not jurisprudence...
etymological hell-havoc...
              ah! pedagogy!
and then the reality of all that's around you...

neurotic old women who think you're: an project
you're a predator;... ******* ****-less *****!
i just wanted to hear what her onomatopoeia went to...
you objectionable UGLY CUT of ****!
she was uttering her first onomatopoeia without
a rubric of letters! as a man who's not going
to be a father: i thought that rather: inquisitive...
i know you women are ******* boors and boredoms...
the more you age the uglier you become
in spirit: let alone in physical appearances...
******* hyenas start looking pretty are a while
once you peak!
no! that's the point! i'm being serious!

it only takes one false accusation: lip-read to demand
a crazy momentum of reaction...
oh no no... it's not going to stop!
best ***** assured this ******* momentum
is not going to stop! now i'm grizzly bear tooth worn
on smiling...

now... i have encountered men who encounter violence
of man against man...
i have yet to encounter men who encounter violence
of woman against man...
let's just say... it's more complicated...
i love children... some women love themselves
to the point of willingly perform... what's that name?
oh.... right... has he risen too?
the deity that's Moloch... the deity of infanticide?!
has he? so... i'm not alone...
there must be more of me...
gents! we're being redeemed!  we're going back
to a singing status of existence in the ***** of our
dearest "Abraham" of Ha-Shem!
let's put on a proper, decent, show!

then again... i might: i just might be...
a solo trick-of-treat... bellowing into the depths of well...
after all... as i looked at the whole affair from
the antithesis of Darwinism...
the strong and the smart don't really reproduce:
en masse...
the idiots do...
mammals like insects...
the ill-fated reproduce: that's why they bemoan
their fate of being ill-stocked in genes...
smart people are exploratory...
i'm exploratory...
i'm not saying i'm smart but i'm certainly not dumb enough
to have children in order for them to suffer
unnecessarily... for a per se reason
that's somehow supposed to be self-explanatory:
without... an accountable self!

there's no chance in hell these two girls imitated those
sounds in the supermarket with...
a knowledge of an onomatopoeia!
no chance! speak to me an "onomatopoeia":
onomatopeia!

     ono-m'ah-t'oh-p'-ah!

   they wouldn't even catch the vowel catches of Hs
in the plural sense without the apostrophe...
no...

write me a poem using linguistic notations:
i.e. onomatopoeia: knock knock: woof woof: .
details of some book... frankly? no book...
journalism rules...
/ˌɒnə(ʊ)matəˈpiːə/
   /nɒk,nɒk/
        /wʊf/ /wʊf/:
      /ˈdiːteɪl/ some
/sʌm,s(ə)m/
                       /bʊk/
  
yeah: that's what i like... linguistic graduates...
graffitti artists with a TAG..
children and onomatopoeias...
you want to play more and more games?
aren't we living in the most circus prone times?!

hey! in current environment of events:
hello herr besondere!
drop qords not bombs!

= +- / ha;f and half...
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2016
it's hard to imagine gin gin gin a pseudo-ariθmeτic behind every coupled word utilising the Logos, a -logy, because what is the motivational word behind it, truly? it could be any word, mind me saying. logistically speaking each compound aligning itself to some -logy (logistics) will know the parameters, in question π, the infinity basis, the irrational ever-after, 3 point whatever, we can scrutinise with millimetre, and the infinitely regressive divide of the circle, hell, heading toward the nanometre, but still the compact, intact π... but there has to be some ariθmetic involved! the easiest to understand logic of mathematics is buried in arithmetic... but words are too large to suit patterns in consistently changing: try fitting a word like apple through a keyhole denoting five one three (513 / five hundred and thirteen, arithmetic conjunctions, spelling)... in the end all you need is A... that's what happens when you riddle the stupidity, you can't make-up 26 units with the craze of ∞, not so much 1 0 1 0 0 1 1 0 0 1 1 0 0 0  1, no algorithm bouncy castle: no hip hip hooray! i mean, what logic is there behind these philosophical words, what arithmetic? what words are required to say 1 + 1 = 2 ontologically? i have an etymological example, but prior to the example i was told to state: certain phonetic encodings are for aesthetic purposes, the C and the K, musicology, cat, clever, clover, kettle, keenly etc. - existence of aesthetic purposes, and dyslexia - we write in complex encoding for the encoding to look the ***** - otherwise we'd be writing like salvaged Latin of Giuseppe Gioacchino Belli (famous for his sonnets, e.g.): the city (acronym c, i know, unitary acronym, the wonder) - both S & K whenever the lady minds to change her posture of SIX P's, popes, priests, princes, prostitutes, parasites and the poor - in poem, the lost aesthetic, excess spelling, no diacritical reprimand: starting with the word cappuccino - perfectó! (ó, not like a Polish u morph, but like a shove, a throw, like an olé! tremor prior to the gesture... a Mexican wave at a football match, the build up... oooooooooo lé! that included no W - see, the tetragrammaton coupled with a systematic vocabulary does wonders, hence the necessary shortening... OH LÉ! catch a breath, catch a breath... take two. the two hatches of the tetragrammaton are more than a deja vu, they're more like jugglers of vowels, the first extends, the second curbs - i might not love the Jews but i love the geometry of YHWH... love it to the extreme, never have i come across people who desire nationhood but are so reluctant to settle there, the intelligent ones preferring exile (the exodus) than hope for a genesis (Zionism). i swear i was supposed to write an etymological poem, sidetracked mentioning Giuseppe and cappuccinos... chinos or khaki? never mind...
vio sentite una madre. ammalappena la cratura c'ha
ffatta ha cquarche ggiorno, ggià è la prima cratura der contorno,
e ssi jje dite che nun è, vve mena -
he salvaged the ******* Titanic of all Titanics and left it aesthetically ugly - look at the alphabet, ugly as **** in the practice of composition, what did he do? look at it! gee gee, if two letters joined necessary, clones, there exists no law to coerce them into a grapheme, like in cappuccino - or Gucci, or Coco Chanel - can't make a tongue-tie within cappuccino if you don't know the basics: like Chino, Chai Tea Latte... siberian grizzly... rrrrraaa... mimic schizophrenia,  the best advice is to mimic a Roman Forum, democracy, make writing democratic, this is democracy, we will not have authoritarian rule of a rigid narrator! burn 'em! burn 'em! no peeping toms here, no omni-voyeurism. but you'd be lucky to pick out the slobbering with accents to a piquant stress worthy of distinguished notation, say it's all Cockney and you'll throw pears down a few ladders; oh yeah, ****'s stable: Coco Shanel but written Chanel - and we're selling chastity while burrowing in chimneys on the shly.

seriously... an etymological poem, using one word:
skleroza* (yes, colon and italics after, a heresy, i know,
but a necessary double emphasis).

paranoia and pronoun usage: the notorious they and he.

so, skleroza, etymological root-prefix: sklera-
or, simply sclera, i.e. adjectives opaque,
fibrous, protective - Westminster Abbey bells at
a wedding - ding ****, ding **** -
so relating to the eye, pertaining if you must -
now what to do with the suffix -roza?
well... there's Barbarossa - pinkish, i say,
although stressed to a geographic region a rose
is actually róża - yes, rose - couple them
together and you get: a rosy blankness -
simulation of momentary dementia -
****! where did i leave the keys?! skleroza
is a short-lived memory gap, a momentary
loss of memory, a funny sort, means you're
abstracting, abstracting a pain akin to
the arithmetic of, e.g. 1 + √43 + 23 - 100 x 2 ÷ 50 + 1000...
a weird sort of pain trying to work that one out...
so, to the limit of the what's behind skleroza,
utilising the arithmetic of etymology:
a rosy blankness - the automated form of forgetting,
that's protective, in terms of a permanent association
of forgetfulness - the easiest burden:
so there you have it, etymology, the logic infuriated with
linear associations and modulations using +, -, x and ÷.
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2022
better than any hallucinogenic ingestion: whether that be acid or magic mushrooms... head traumas... ooh: those brain-"freeze" rattlings, like licking ice... like eating post-accident scabs... hmm... peanuts?! black-pudding?! oats?! i don't know... it's a mix of all... dry blood...

turns out we're all pink underneath...
even me: copper-neck sun-tan boyo come summer
turns pink skinned once he falls spectacular
over: face first: Lucifer's birth... stars dangling
awry out of constellation patterns...
moving... stars roaming...
             we're all pink underneath...
as i can attest: picking at my scar tissue / scab...
subsequently eating it...
   no... i don't care what the scientists might say
about eating your boogies...
i heard that one before... i also love the taste
of nails... i love the taste of female genitals...
esp. that of female genitals that have had
many ****** partners but are also ****-hygienic...
****-hygienic?! oh... right...
the types of girls you can have unprotected ***
with... knowing full well that they are prostitutes...
and still not contract any STDs...
             you put a ****** on my phallus
you might as well choke me during ******...

she wants to dance like Uma Thurman...
  mmm hmm... 4th day running... one song on repeat...

so the boiler buy comes round on time:
around 2 and 2:30pm... i switched on the t.v.
to watch some SW19 (Wimbledon, tennis,
i'm not going to be cryptic, let's leave it in the open)
my next door neighbour shoved a note
through my door... Dear Matthew...
scribbled like someone might with a crayons...
could you feed my baby tomorrow, Tuesday...
Bella... an white heterochromia beauty-freak...

so the boiler man came: handsome worth of
a **** and a ring attached to a ring-finger...
      £80 for about 15 minutes worth of work...
thank god he left a receipt...
    but my neighbour approached him: can you check
my boiler?
   her house? i love her to bits...
but... she? and Ed Gein... yeah... on par...
every time i go into her house to feed her cat
i'm actually trying to find myself...
oh... i know where the sink the cat food is...
i'm just trying to find myself,
   i.e.: i couldn't live like this...
              and i'm being: seriously generous...

so she approaches the boiler guy...
CAN WE STOP WITH THIS BICYCLE ACCIDENT
CRAP?! YES... IT'S BEEN A WEEK...
I'M HEALING LIKE WOLVERINE...
BECAUSE I'M A HYGIENIC-****...

but outright she calls me a sadomasochist...
PROMPT...
      i just need a girl to rest her head on my shoulder
sigh into me and i'm off... like a racehorse...
**** myself into her house...
meet her son...
  tell him: drop the Spanish... choose German...
it's more grammatically aligned to English...
he's on board... bring her homemade wine...
homemade banana loaf... cycle to her house at night...
drop her a Valentine's card through the box
and leave flowers on the porch...
          but in the end get rejected and feel like
i might have a heart's worth of a tonne of pebbles...
perhaps sand... i think sand trickles better
with the aid of a shovel when spreading it...
actually: no... better moving a tonne of pebbles
than a tonne of sand...

sadomasochist? am i thinking out-loud?
i know i am... but the question is...
it's actually a good question...
not Heidegger questioning history via historiology...
that's his buzzword in the black notebooks...
historiology this... historiology that...
no no...
                it's a chicken and the gg... egg story...

a e i o u M u o i e a...
                   a e i o u N u o i e a
     a e i o u R u o i e a
               a e i o u P u o i e a...

(we'll come back to this "problem" later on;
what has it to do with anything?
well... why do the Greeks have names for
their letters... while the Romans don't and didn't?
they "sang" their wording... PIZZA...
PAPARAZZI! AMORE!
    but i'm pretty ******* sure that if
the Romans plagiarised the Greek deities...
how Zeus became Jupiter... etc.
   then i'm pretty sure the Greeks plagiarised
the Roman way of the abacus -
how? how?! how could you use letters as numbers?!
erm... weren't the numbers already hidden in
the letters?! 8 in B...
                          Z in 2...
                                       7 in L or gamma before
a mirror...
                    1 in I...
                                   6 in miniscule beta b....
    5 & G are not facing each other...
II + III = V
                  shake shake shake III in Cyrillic...
3 otherwise... (

i lost the plot... hence the (          open to question:
where did i leave of off?!

ah... right... sadomasochism...

  the chicken and the gg... i.e. egg...
i know who came first historically... Marquis de Sade...
as i know that leopold von Sacher-Masoch came
later... historically... but... ontologically?!
ooh... that's a tough one...
well... no... it isn't...
             the inner drive of a youth in me that
once was... i found Marquis de Sade literature prior
to finding Sacher-Masoch...
            i learnt from a sadist what i couldn't learn
from a *******... because?! i guess i was inherently
*******... but not of a ****** nature...
to hell with being shamed sexually by a woman...
Venus in Furs the Velvet Underground sort of *******...
no! nein! niet! nie!

so... what came first? the sadist or the *******...
i know that historically the sadist came before the *******...
but within the sadomasochist complex:
S comes after M...
it could easily have been a maso-sadist complex...
compound of words...
never mind...

i think i first have had to experience sadism...
born with a hernia...
with a Chernobyl birthmark like someone clipped
an angel's wing... now a Cain's mark...
a nurse at the hospital tried to
choke me... enlarged me heart...
that's the myth...
        i was born as an abomination...

i love hurting myself... i'm sort of immune to
pain... immune when it is spectacular,
spontaneous... a Pollack / Kandinsky / Bacon
moment of contortions...
an implosion of time being undifferentiated
from space and space being undifferentiated
from time... relativistic squadron of magpies...
or... lonely seagulls flying in the night
trying to perch and be at ease
inland... on lamp-posts... looking for the hush
and hum of the battering waves of sea...

so who came first? the sadist or the *******,
ontologically, not historically?!
personally? i love to give myself pain
while giving others pleasure...
           leniency: even at work...
i like giving someone a 1h break while i only take
a 15min break...
and then watch... i love watching the guilt trip...
and falling into line...
ergo? i'm a passive sadist: i don't need
all the kink and ******* of ***-tripping...
i need subtle queues...
just give me a NIQAB and i'll work with it
like an artist with a canvas...

i already spotted the "agenda":
Muslim girls peering into a blonde moustache
and a brown beard... ooh... ooh...
why? how?! they're not looking at my eyes...
they're looking at my lips...
perfect mayhem! perfect!
   rubber-band stretching agitation!

of course they're fuckable... anything that moves
is... is...
                 Somali, Bangladeshi...
you name the hue and i'll compare that with
Caramel White Choc-Blocks...
         it's only the white girls...
that highest prize arrogance...
            the dilution "liquid"... of what? *****!
we'll all be Brazilian by the end of "it"...

lyrically: it's so wrong...
she and you...
i can't get YOU...
   what a pronoun confusion....
i can't get rid her HER...

new term:  TERRIBLE-ENGLish...

i love the song... but the language is the pristine
example of native-neglect...
well... it's H'american Ing-leash...
so... it's going to supposed to fail...

like overhearing two black guys talking
about racial stereotyping: how if you use
racial slurs in England at work you'll be excused...
how H'america is dangerous...
how England is salvagage ground
for racial minorities...

*******! you're pink just as me when
you bruise! what?!
      
i ******* hate the H'american accent...
it's like making a spaghetti Carbonara with
phlegm and snot without
any cream eggz or parmesan cheese...
no... like in Iraq or Libya:
your "empire" is not welcome here... *******!

great for culture... your culture is great...
your politics?! no, not so much...
sorry...

    why is it that we have ALPHA?
but only A in the Latin script?
why isn't it ebb but be for (B)?
why do we have gee and not egg for (G)?
err and not Ra for (R)?!
              el and not La for (L)?
why do so many consonants begins with vowels
rather than end with them,
when isolated?

that's why i adore Heidegger...
he always suggested: what is worth being questioned...
exactly!
         i already made a question:
why is the alphabet sorted so?
why not a e i o u b c... etc.?!
why are the vowels randomly placed among
the consonants?!
  the alphabet unravels into words and sentences
in the end... why not cook-up a revision
of QWERTY as an ability to type without
looking down at the keyboard?!
i'm sure the GP that retired that was
"curing" me was typing like a crow pecking
at crumbs of bread... digit-index finger...
look down: digit-index finger... peck... peck...
who the **** needs to learn the alphabet
when you have QWERTY?!

oh sure, sure... sure sure... the people are "literate":
no they're not... they are just about
able to read STOP and GO signs...
associate the colour RED with STOP
and the colour GREEN with GO...
thank god we're not trying some Mandarin experiment...
you get to look at enough people you
know that individuals beside the herd...
but when dealing with the herd: there are no individuals...
we're not talking about a wolf-pack...
we're talking about herding mentality...

on my QWERTY?
the A is completely eroded... it's the most used key i
apparently use... then again...
it's all about hand-placing...
so that you utilise all your fingers... including
you thumbs...
*** is typing... i can't imagine writing this much
having to scribble death-end-notes with
undecipherable handwriting...
                
digit by digit... letter by letter...
        because in the 1800s i wouldn't be a part-time poet...
i'd be a lumberjack and a a shepherd...
or: thereabouts...
          mind you? from what i've checked?
the supposed professional poets
on gate-keeper sites of poetry?
mmm hmm... they're sort of pretentious / ****...
aren't they?!

oh... right... now i know why the A is scrubbed out...
i've lost a lot of poems...
my fault... i forgot to
ctrl+A / ctrl+C / ctrl+V...
lesser lessons for the greater reasons.
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2016
what i understand as a definition of
the word complex,
it requires a hyphen as a
pseudo conjunction, in that it
coordinates words in opposition,
which is why freud's right on the
money with the madonna-*****
complex, but completely bonkers
with his oedipal fetishes,
because oedipus is a complex in itself
that cannot be excavated
and theorised for the sake of a
analogue... that's a horrid plagiarism
that might plagiarise awry,
for all orthodox necessities:
a complex is aqua-     -marine
aquamarine... but in terms of theory
it's evident that the hyphen usage
is still retained, before everything
goes **** up perfect ******* of
compounding the two words like a german:
Fernmeldeverkehr (telecommunication),
der... 'nurse! pass the syllable scalpel!'
'herr doktor, der silbeskalpell.'
'ah scheiße, 'ere we go 'ere we go 'ere we go:
fern' 'mel 'dever 'kehr.'
the operation was a success, apart from
the silbeskalpell being left in the patient's body;
and i never understood why people
expect you to talk to them face-to-face
like you're reading autocue, the minute
you talk imagining off empty space
to invent a new language of comfort
they equate you with autism...
i once had a glance at psychiatric notes
sent to the bureaucratic doctor (g.p. / general
practitioner)... psst... they only care
about whether:
                           a. you're able to keep eye contact
                    b. you're / you're not biting your nails...
but that's what you get, the welfare state
policy of funding distribution of the infamous
n.h.s. (national health service)...
****** by the cartesian dualism of splitting
mind from body like the brain is some
gooey porridge mixed with cornstarch for
thickness... only 0.6% of n.h.s. funding goes into
psychiatry... i'm guessing at least 1% goes into
prescriptions for pensioners demanding ******...
i already told you, cats are ontologically autistic,
hence their appeal to autistic children,
or just anyone not really into leashes, being
tugged or tugging, come rain or shine, come
7am or 7pm... they can be so inanimate sometimes
that they blend in will flowers, and when awake,
yes, like plants doing the kayan lahwi tribe's
extending neck with rings thing... ah what's it called...
ah yes phototropism... take the rings off the neck
a million swans with broken necks.
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2016
symbols, some just say zodiac, with Gemini at my lowest ebb - ebb, funny word, unravelling nouns from the cauldron of onomatopoeias, say knock on wood precipitated into a privacy of owning a door - whereas the Irish and the Poles encoded dialogue (like in Ulysses) with hyphen for snappy convo; in a pub, Charlie and Harry spoke:
- pint's on me.
- aye, on you the one and no more.
- why not more on me?
- i won the lottery, i'm goonah buy half of Cork.
- so who's this Yorrick fella'h?
- apparently a resurrected maxim.
- travesty...
- indee- doodley oh.
which beckons the question why the un-imaginative encoding of sounds gave English narrators too much power... the supposed ditto / invert comma wasn't expression of approx., nuanced, why wasn't the interpretation that of nuance? we can all use the unit Sartre chose to nuance, instead of "ego" the ref. point of conduct ~ego, i.e. approximately me, living with my mother but nonetheless womanising... unimaginative narrator, speeding, never gave his characters a chance, "i went to the market today", he said; that's the narrator masquerading - call this a dubbing mechanism? i would... like i'd hope for the centimetres and miles and nanometres of pause differentiating a comma from a hyphen, a hyphen from a colon, a colon from a semi-colon... and a semi-colon from a fullstop (exampled a germanic word with missing hyphen not authorised by the Oxbridge dictionary of couture, disassembling a navy sweater and toad-green jeans)... i mean, **** me, give me the precision tactics to read without invoking an αsθmαtιc imitation of a sailor's last breath; are those dots above i and j really necessary? it just rained down y y y y y y y y y y on top of them, enzyme activity? yep, ιoτα; otherwise just inert *******; and no, it's not a language these days, English has been reduced to pixel graffiti.

well... mandrakes and sparrows
aren't exactly androgynous...
maybe a mascara advert went missing
along the way... maybe.
here the piano... here the broken
fingers of Liszt... you poker me,
it's worth the gamble...
well ontologically *sprechen
what
the hell is a natural appropriation
of waiting for water to boil,
or an egg to be poached in shell
for a runny yoke? me neither,
i'm as dumb as a doughnut concerning
such affairs... i said there's no androgynous
behavioural patterns in sparrow and mandrakes,
you choose you adaptability whenever you
choose to stress a chequered flag...
parasitically i'll march with telescope
ants and flies of what alienation did
to the food-chain - yeah, aliens with an
enlargement syndrome -
bathtub of hydrochloric acid -
i just imagine the newly beloved painting
unseen, a squid cleaving fat and muscles
off a skeleton in the same light
as seeing a ******* - artist or pervert?
i guess both go hand-in-hand;
the hyphen, equal parallel usage with the inverted
coma / well... it used to be known as a ditto
                                                           ­            "
                                                               ­        "
                                                               ­        "
but mind you, before Oxford accepts a german
sounding word compound it requires a hyphen
in english - pistachio shells and shrapnel -
yep, as the above - unravelling of fictive tactics
of the bothersome nature for the narrator not only
loßing the plot but also the characters;
hey, english is perfect, i can apply whatever stresses
of φoνo i want... it's stark naked Adam & Eve...
i can put a ballerina's leotard on this encoding,
and no one will truly mind.
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2017
like... flappy flappy pigeon imitate penguin go shoeshine your ***? like that? i don't even know whether pigeons find penguins to be more pathetic, or whether penguins find pigeons more pathetic... so one has the sky, the other the ocean... it's hardly an argument for either to be staged with a mediator; let alone a matador.

pokraka... (singular),
pokraki* (plural)...
             don't know, i'm not exactly
baby-faced pristine...
         but i don't even know where
that word comes from,
perhaps the riddle of the crow and
the writing desk... why is it that
the crow is writing desk?
          the crow stoops on earth hunched?
almost hunchback?
       maybe that?
     don't know, these fellas are doing
my slating (roof) and i'm autistic imitating
cat tactics of hidig, because i like the drunk
that i am to be hidden, and only seen
in between walls that can hear...
   or apparently but not really so...
    metaphysical question...
why is it that when you encode scratched compact
discs into mp3 form on an iPod
the product breaks? too much l.s.d.?
                 i swear to god, but you trasnslaste
a compact disk into software (it is hardware,
however you think about it; with no alternatives)
         it can **** up the hardware...
                 you have a scratched c.d.,
you translate it into a software package to your
computer, then your translate the "malware",
o.k. a scratched c.d. is literally malware,
                 on the topic of iPods...
                you can **** up your iPod if you include
scratched c.d. material... like itchy-itchy vinyl guys
doing hip-hop...
        but i have this sansa mp3 player,
and i have scratched c.d. on it, and it keeps working...
but the iPod i once owned? broken...
or should i say "broken"?
     no, literally broken...
          i picture prefect a cat's face and then
disappear when the builders arrive...
most of the time i'm a person that doesn't require
the chance exposure of my own face...
    here's to looking at brick walls, and clouds,
and drainage depots on the pave...
      to be writing poetry will eventually drive
your sorry *** into the ground and tell you:
why couldn't you become a crane-driver?
          as a fraction of a billion exemplum similis?
i don't know;
               why did you get plastic surgery?
i know... similis exemplar... that's a variant on the whole
topic.
                 why marvin gaye and the creedence clearwater
revival cover?
           i apparently don't know any latin,
and i find that stating this fact: i'm no big fan of
some grammar school rubric of "correct": toward
the status of ontologically proof riddled,
   correct.
                      *****'s here, coca is here,
sunshine (ugh) is here...
                            what else could you want?
only the etymological disinterest of the word pokraka,
derivative? krók (crow)...
         given the prefix po- (after) -
            well... imitating crow, or after the crow...
                           unto the priest... after all: crows are
symbolic of the priestly-caste in europe...
      also the opposite of onomatopoeic strain toward exactnes:
kra kra... what the crow breathes...
hardly a kraken, but almost... thus po- + -krók:
     i.e. after the crow... inherently so.
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2018
/if there is but one use for Freudian theoretics, for a man who has jargon for dreams, or a man who rarely summons a need to dream, for a man who does not have the luxury of a dream worth interpretation, for a man who has not dreamt a recurring dream...

it is far easier to summon
a woman, within the hour,
to the confines of a brothel
room,
    unshackeling her
from the vengence of
artimesia and binding her
to: breaking the sacred
taboo of swallowing
a kiss...
      
        than it will ever be...
to summon a woman to the liberty
of equal fortitude in
playing the role of atom,
  father, son, brother...
      
far sooner a woman from a *****
comes, than a woman
from the ivory tower, cold cut
marble, halo labyrinth,
spotless "madonna"...

   for whatever the need for Freud these
days, i am adamant on
this one church gong echo...
   that Hades could only shed tears
when Cerberus died,
and Charon replaced him in
claustrophobic confines of deity...

after the wake, having slyly laughed
at my great-grandmother's funeral,
i gnashed my teeth hard enough
to scrub off a chip off my incisor,
and toyed with a red rose,
tickling it with a candleflame,
until i, managed to persuade
a bozo cardinal to step into a role
of a humble bishop,
    attired in a rare hue of burgundy,
namely a blood-purple
      mishap of what would otherwise
become: that glaring,  ******* red
of those would-be Kippah donning
Vatican mafiosos...

however much the tedium of a German
thinker, as far removed he might have
been from the airy fairy pancake square-i.e.i.e.  
starry ******* stay-ree?
    squack-diddly- a ******* toobah boo -
Belshezar receiving the paranormal
scribble in Timbaktu?
     squarry... rhombus... alias:
   some sort of etching resembling 90 x 4...

nonetheless: even the most tedious german
thinker.... will be more fathomable
to me, in techniqlaity over style,
over the hot-air balloon contra
zeppelin London bombardment of
french thinkers...
          
          as ever: building on national
stereotypes...
                       sure, had I been native geboren
und spreschen...
the French would appeal to me...
as novelists? hands down...
      no tin drum (perhaps
due to the eng'flush)...
                  or suma summarum
ping (cogito) | pong (sum)
                       Thai for:
**** 'ou lon' thai'm,
                       and then the *******
juggle and gamble
asking for a new version of
the niqab to, expose
the feminine parts...
     chubby Arab mama's hands...
who d' pretty niqab fwend eye
if not rottweiler hazel...
   swarovsky inorganic crystal
blue... hence the Madonna
and the halo labyrinth...

   far easier to stomach the tedium
of a German technician,
than a fence-tinkerer...
   namely gilles deleuze
                      and félix guattari,
since no one is about to call
out names,
   the western plague of premature
depression...
   ontologically old age is predisposed
to melancholy...
    the joy of building a home,
and the sadness, of settling in it
up in completion,
   but depression, and so early?
synthetic, unnatural,
                            cognitive malnutrition.

far easier to summon a woman
from the depth of prostitution,
than it is to summon a woman
from the height of the ****** birth,
and countless the number of
ways a woman can show her honesty,
than act out a juggling act...
how close am i to the materialistic
reading of Oedipus,
   by prodingoutside
              the siamese gene pool?

not far from the mantra of the mantis:
to stand a woman,
a man must disappear...
    hence the madonna reign...

monogamy among animals is more
mysterious than the thought
of god in man...
                   each to his harem and
a pound of flesh each night, thoroughly
funfaired...

      a woman from the depths
of prostitution, even if for an hour...
    it's enough that I have to stand my own
thinking, let alone
            to act in devistion from it...
that I'd have to submerge beneath
   the caucus of agony aunts and astrologers
to amplify,
    what remains,
     otherwise hidden,
   an executioner's transaction...
                    as the remnant daughters
toy the nest.

perhaps this is all but a puritanical
cleft of exhausting youthful swoons prior
to the plunge into responsibility...
     odd... i don't seem to recall ever
signing a contract,
     whereby I,  as an "individual" stressed,
was somehow to rationalise
the efforts of the collective in continuum,
who, somehow, magically found
Genesis Africa...
      but... somehow... can't tell me...
whereabouts, that Dodo Rock actually
fell and made such a great indentation...
dunno... maybe Sahara was
a great mountain range akin to
the Himalayas, given the transition
period of:

Himalayas - Dead Horse, Utah - Sahara.
Mateuš Conrad May 2016
i know, really funny, give a portent to a child,
hide his "prodigious" output akin to the execution
of the prophet Isaiah, hence the Nag Hammadi library
and the Dead Sea Scrolls...
as if "by accident" both re-emerge,
just a ****-berg bopping along
in the whirlpool of a toilet that's human
history - should we enjoy it, we should
remember it prior to enjoying it...
we remember Kant's mannerism
but hardly enjoy his company... o heaven forbid
the chanced reverse! a baby with something like
the Star of Bethlehem will
clearly breed someone like Freud
and the ******* of a donkey's theory
"necessary" with interpretation
asserting the prominent need for dreams
the restless who need entertainment while
asleep... why not be simply content with sleep?
dreams prior to religion,
start investigating dreams and you
can manage shouting at the postman of
the unconscious: 'stop sending me
junk mail! i don't have the time
or leisure to plagiarise and recount a narrative!'
for a snail drizzling its saliva,
as would be an ontologically anti-ditto sound
for a mollusc on cement;
yarn-ball of yuck! indeed the shorter proof
of the existence of narration, or narrator
is to use the ' rather than the " marks...
latter concerns it meaning the narrator is self-conscious,
he's aware of his instance, a billion chinese
half from Shanghai on the tip-toe ready...
so if religion is to be made private,
so should dreams... let's start with a great
anti-dialectic patience that's English society...
no shared concern for voicing
political, religious or psychological concerns...
let's hush it up and see how many await
a massacre... i mean... once in the name of religion
now in the name of a "polite" society...
democracy should mingle with dialectics,
but as the death of Socrates proved, it oddly doesn't...
it's almost like harbouring a dictator without
dictatorial power, a homeless dictator on a bench
in rags... surely democracy would allow just a
single mutation? but no, oh no, democracy wants
uniformity via what we call:
an essence of swans (the godly stance on
monogamy), bred with insect population sizing -
and something else in between, dip in, pull out,
imagine the crown's jewel, then the Greek elements
revising your stance as lord and protector...
in summary: for all his empowerments,
his omni-this and omni-that... finally! finally!
finally man made an unrealistic god! finally all our
slavish labours paid off...
we have an existence of an unrealistic god,
and instead of being equipped with theology
the aristocracy have learned to abandon theological
fairytales and instead adopted negation as the ruling
etiquette... but the ******* god of omni bites back...
modern politics is a politics of a cul de sac...
deny once... can't deny twice, a double jeopardy...
first time genial, second time a parody...
i know, suma summarum:
for all his omni he only represented a typh- (greek for smoke)
or tac- (tact, to be silent in Latin),
otherwise the whole representative allowance
we call murderer, despot, a salvation army trumpeter
would undermine our entire free will debate -
as with so much omni that allowed our limits,
and with our limits seen the grand omni thus expressed
trebax, as Narcissus plain hardly re-imagined
for that face in the glassy-still lake encapsulating
by the philosophical Narcissism know as solipsism:
although respectable due to encoding sounds...
images are in inertia... there's no chiral aspect
governing them, no double-meanings-double-dealings.
Onoma Dec 2013
Know that it's
stop-n-go...
all the way Up.
God's epistemologically dead...
ontologically  alive--
or is it the other way around?
Philosophy in Greek means
to be a friend of wisdom...well...
friends backstab.


Konstantinos Mark
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2016
what poetry could not
the easiest access for rhyming,
e.g. the less i feel the more (a#)
i tend to harvest the ore (a#),
because it all feels domestic (b)
too modest too anachronistic (b)...
rhyme for me has become
deluded in terms of its importance
in poetry, it's un-important,
several technique references also,
but not so much, rhyming is the prime,
people everywhere are asking for abstraction,
they want to be able to read mathematics
by reading complex poetics
so they can craft a patent for ignoring
the verbs associated with mathematics
and entrench themselves in flanders fields
of nouns... i'm bilingual i have no talent
for crosswords, even the easiest ones,
but i can do a su doku... although not samurai
ones... if i state a vector and no one
travels along this route, it's no bother...
the last time i checked i felt inclined to
teach the south of Rodin's kiss, the north,
the west and the east in terms of changed narration
due to changed narration due to changed
perspective... all enclosures in cubic representation
where allowed, those in squared representations
of square on square like david's lyre of triangle
on triangle where the scientific approach
rather than lazy religious...
elsewhere two coordinations for the template
of abstracted three dimensional bodies
proved the one dimension that didn't exist
beyond the pinpoint "coordinate"...
otherwise known as the blind-spot.
poetry needs to evolve, it can't be stuck in the pit
of effort to keep with tradition, to keep with
technique... it has to forget technique
that might identify it as poetry,
the use of metaphor et al. does not necessarily
precipitate poetry, casual language usage
has become too stiff too predictable because
poetry has become so also...
imagine having other conversations,
philosophy has long quenched poetry,
crushed it, made it too democratic,
meaning anyone can write it,
only because plato's republic stated that
the rulers were not entertained by poets
in times when you couldn't record music
and stream it but had to be ready impromptu to
sing song... poetry, thanks to plato has become
too democratic, everyone's allowed a poem,
a demeaning signature of an X...
it has lost its republican status...
where is the: let poet ease my ear before i draft
the inauguration speech... so you see the tradition?
politicians want poets to speak with them,
they want one from the people to bless
the president's speech... but beyond that poetry
is a ***** art-form, and because of it,
it has become a wredna sztuka / wredna nauka,
which translates as: abhorring / abhorred art / science...
sztuka also translates as unit... hence the nuances
readied... like the reform of a 1984 law...
foresight accounted for, in terms of what
could be prevented... diluted understanding
does not necessarily involve an enlightened meaning,
in lawful terms it means confusing the populace,
confusing the strict guideline is a profit margin
in the courts of law...
the interpreter read the judge's speech
and didn't believe the necessary intricacy of ******,
he confused people with a gang of thirteen,
one carrying a knife, three carrying grit silver,
the rest not knowing... the three along with the one
accused, manslaughter the case resolve,
i understood the complexity of the high court judge's
wording, prime and auxiliary defendants,
prosecutors in tiers: victim, judge and jury...
the prosecutor tier missing because ineffective
and underpaid... prosecutors are effectively
the lawyers of the unread, uneducated...
currently there's an egyptian working the legal
system accused of the highest abomination
among the legal columns of un-excusable...
he committed a crime, and he's practising law...
one day his career will be over...
the man opposing never asked for reparations,
didn't ask for a jail cubic...
he asked for the beginning bias of the act not
perpetrated... ontologically speak, it's a question
of how man unto man should act, when given
the onomatopoeic simplicity of animals...
in england i will not receive justice,
i've been given a fake mental health history,
and thus dis-integrating from a society
i've known since the age of 8, i must someone
integrate my thought into my ethnic origin,
hence i need the european conglomerate of
many nations union...
because a psychiatrist in england
is actually a neurologist in poland
and the latter, dicta: if someone says you're
mentally ill, they're mentally ill themselves.
Mateuš Conrad May 2017
christianity is, in part,
                               ontologically based, to behave like
hinduism...              
   in that its root is a polytheism,
focusing on              
              the opposite of a theology,
  or its particularness...  
                 it's poly-schismatic.
catholicism can lie all it wants away,
but the fact is simple:
  christianity was based upon a focus
of an impeding schism...
   so i can't see a way out of
shouting:        shotgun!
              as you rarely do, take the seat
in a non-black-cabbie next to the driver...
since there isn't one...
                  add to it an innumerable
cohort of saints... and you're done...
at least islam is "schizophrenic",
in that the schism took to representing
two factions of belief systems...
    me? if i were muslim?
                 ****'a(h) islam... all the way...
christianity just has a messiah complex
imbedded in it... and therefore it has
so many splinters (schisms) waiting for it,
to be reduced to.
               orthodox, catholic, protestant,
and then all the -isms...
luthernism, calvinism, baptism -ism- -ists...
   em, second day adventists?
            it's like darwinism in a theological sense:
look! look at all the theo-diversity!
     only now, would you associate
the (g)nostic movement in islam (sufism)
with ****'a(h) islam...
but come on! how can you make poetry
     a capitalist "thing"?
     you can't compete when writing poetry...
you can't compete on an universal basis for
a uniform stance of "incompetent" expression...
   that **** ain't happening...
      i feel with my intensity, and with my intensity alone...
you can't compete with what you feel,
and then scribble down...
       the **** is this "comprehension" / realisation?
poetry is not some potato-sack / egg on a spoon race!
  in terms of language...
     english has already won the culture war...
  but chinese, or hindi, as written in sanskrit?
   well... that's won the existential war...
   a billion here... and a billion over there...
       mind you, i'll repeat myself...
the polytheistic aspect of christianity is that
christianity has a tendency to agitate schisms;
it's really a religion of the obelus (÷),
or as some might suggest: the obelisk of washington d.c.
thank **** it wasn't a giant **** of
masonry, with only one / two rooms in it.
the ****** religion just implodes,
   and schizophrenics itself into a poly-diadem
that then tries to resolve some primitive geometric
form (square, triangle, a straight line, a dot)
   of "respectability";
but reducing the tetragrammaton (yhwh) into a
   dangling piece of metal, i.e. a † (crux)?
                           that! that's truly barbaric!
B Morgan Talbot Aug 2019
You are commanding the presence of an audience of children
Who do not, for a couple of hours, feel like children.
They feel like lightning bolts, and lovers,
Congregates of "The Broken Axe Handle",
Even if they hardly show it.
You’re telling them their own story
For which they haven’t yet learned how to form the words.

And after it all,
The crowd moving in a waking dream cloud,
You come into my focus,
And you practically whisper, “Seeing you there, you made me feel
Centered”
And I felt humbled by the honesty.
What a surprise to have such a weighted job!  
How impossible it is to take crumb of credit
For the beauty of your poetry!
I, entirely teenaged with endogenous anonymity,
Someone’s fulcrum!  

In a decade since,
I, (un)entirely grown and still ontologically unknown,
Still live your language,
Still aim to be the rock or
The hook on which to hang a hat.
Even when I don’t think I can
Even when I don’t know I am,
You make me feel daily that
In just receiving someone’s truth,
Eyes up,
I can make the return to be
Someone’s somebody.
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2016
but the gods are all asleep in plato's cave of the game known as: the charades of shadows, chinese whispers with the hands - like cats, the gods lucid dream, they are completely able to be in control in the dream world, as man be concious in body, the gods possess complete access to limbs and movement - so here, am i damnable like the ancient greek poets who deemed the gods immoral? immoral in order to imitate and spread immorality?

we have moved away from exciting science,
in a sense exciting science was
described as scientific positivism
(i am going to use a lot of these words
with what i am about to assess),
we moved from that, we have entered a time
when the public is fed scientific pluralism,
that is: all the sciences together, at once -
scientific negativism emerged,
because too much objectivity of expression
was stressed by those who didn't have
the glory of shouting: eureka!
scientific negativism feeds objectivity,
and objectivity feeds a limitation of a personal
expression of feeling, it's an apathy we're talking
about, not necessarily a lack of emotion,
but the comfortable lack of very stressful emotions,
it's the sort of stringing of emotions that
leave you happily asserting a place in a world
in a mediocre way of fulfilling materialism,
science after all studies objects, so being objective
in expression is ontologically sound,
but would a scientist tell another scientist to be
stoic and not excited when he's about to shout eureka?
well, stoicism is a scientific humanism,
to practice being stoic is to train oneself to curb
one's subjectivity when necessary, although
not all the time, and not in a way to reflect harsh
realities of scientific facts, rather, personal facts,
jeff hanneman was a stoic by way of reflecting
with virtuoso playing style on the guitar,
he wasn't stoic because of some scientific fact,
no scientist can be objective when he's about to
discover something, it's pure subjectivity,
but the mediators, the so-called scientists are spreading
this disease of having to be objective to be right,
to be appropriate for modern society,
they're basically censoring the subjectivity of the everyday,
they're killing off the narrative, mechanising us
into a calm content apathy, given us enough products
to be sold and bought to appreciate the "finer things in life",
there's range, there's breadth, there's a seemingly endless
stream of choice: i can only be happy with what i buy,
rather than what i feel, what i think what i etc.,
science used to be so so exciting, and then no one
talked about in objective terms,
but now we have this giant slab of concrete on us,
do not take theology with a hum of approval,
well, do that and you'll see a very different expression
of theology elsewhere, for example Syria:
crucifixions, homosexuals thrown off buildings,
little kids have a mechanic drill drilled through their temple...
but still atheism has a beginning just as much as
theology - it's proposition is a presupposition of
a non-existence of something, rather than an existence
of something - don't get me wrong, the roman catholic
system of omni- this, omni- that is bewildering,
and rather unimaginative, it's a pantheism -
but when i find one word being disputed in such
a vile way, i ust say to myself: but what if this being
is but a mode of communication, a medium,
language itself - would i want such a medium to be
all forgiving, all damning or simply all revealing?
after all, if we didn't have this implant of ably encoding
thoughts, ideas, feelings with these symbols,
we would be nowhere except in our previous mode
of communication based upon intuition...
but still this scientific negativism, because so much
was revealed, it's no longer a maiden voyage to an
unknown land (in terms of the number of possibilities,
now there's only a need to cure cancer, tackle dietary
requirements of a highly mechanised society
without the need for some other animate being to
travel, get to mars, etc.) - it's peppered with mundaneness
of teaching plagiarism of someone else's work
to create a teaching encapsulation for funding of
those scientists in the background, to basically say
you graduated with a chemistry degree and that's that,
off with you to a pharmacy post and... do the robot!
nee nee nee ning dance of serving customers;
yet if science is filling the void of its prime endeavour
with negativism, then it's no wonder than the
mediators of science and humanism (philosophers)
are prescribing objective expression,
from the years of old, man the object had to have
an object implanted in him to express himself,
nothing... so no passions, no irrationality,
conformity, lack of poetry, enforced lack of poetry
to be exact, just enough to tell 1 + 1, 2 x 2, 3 -3 and
the ugliness of language at the hands of these so
called teachers of mankind, e.g. Hegel,
expressed most succinctly: i = i (found in the introduction
of his *the outlines of the philosophy of right
,
apropos the same book karl marx was inspired by,
who attacked it with vitriol)... there you go... i = i...
not the eloquent flow of words into rhymes or
other deviations, just that bog, that swamp of
the caricature of using language.
mike dm Jan 2019
my binary atoms are
being smeared wet and mucosal
like holes flexing and swelling
like being queen of the all-all's
watching their heads roll into
tentacles that are serving me
dropping ontologically immanent grapes
into my mouth and fanning me
with hexagonal cleopatras glistening
and all the whorl is a place to feast
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2022
B-side

things have changed since the days of progressive rock,
the whole idea of the concept album...
i once owned this copy of a music magazine: MOJO...
when magazines were still in print...
that's the thing with me -

three passions in my life, three great loves in my life...
cycling, music and philosophy:
if i said that i loved poetry i'd be lying...
since i imagine myself as writing it -
with this little beast there's a love-hate relationship -
it's hardly a love: it's a medium where my three loves come together...

but a lot has changed since the progressive rock days of the concept album...
what album topped the MOJO top 50 albums from
the progressive rock genre?
Pink Floyd's dark side of the moon...
who was second? ah...
YES' close to the edge:
personally i preferred the yes album...
Jethro Tull's Aqualung was way down the list...
Radiohead's OK computer wasn't unsurprisingly high...

but i would have topped the list with
King Crimson's in the court of the crimson king...
never mind...
i'd love to start a petition for all
the Red Hot Chilli Pepper albums to be released...
only upon hearing some of the B-sides from By the Way...

then moving to the B-sides of Blood, Sugar, ***, Magik...
i'm not sieving through the B-sides of Californication...
i'd want to start a petition for
all the Red Hot Chilli Pepper albums to be released
like Stadium Arcadium was released...
as a double-album... ****'s sake...
the artistry of this band is inexhaustible!

ALL RED HOT CHILLI PEPPERS' ALBUMS SHOULD BE RELEASED AS DOUBLE-ALBUMS...
that would be ****** innovative:
a natural progression from progressive rock...
all other mentions of progression the spheres of politics and

sociology blah blah ought to begin with... this...
i'm just surprised "they" only figured it out with Stadium Arcadium...

i mean: this B-side of the band is like:
i remember the days when bands would have
INSTRUMENTAL tracks, most notably Iron Maiden and
Metallica... take for example the Teatro Jam...

vocals brought to a bare minimum or nothing at all...
yes... i feel privileged to get a sneak peek into
the potential for the "concept" of the double album...
oh... sly technicalities...

i'm seriously not the type of a Matthew Arnold type...
crying myself to sleep after seeing Liszt play and swoon
the ladies...

i stopped caring about the "lady department" of my life...
that's how the story goes...
Matthew Arnold went to a Liszt concert
and he went back home and cried about how Liszt:
the virtuoso managed to swoon the ladies...
it helped that i was working those two gigs
and i wasn't just a fan...
because watching the women watching
these guys on stage helped with
the required attire of the security services...

perhaps i wasn't jumping up and down...
but i was "secretly" tapping my feet...
i chose the wrong instrument:
like any boy does when he has no band mates...
tried my chances on the guitar...
i should have been a drummer...
envy of the world could not topple what i'm interested
in / with anyway...

my solitary existence is enough
for whatever is not enough for others...
beside the double-album fixation,
i have a more potent "fixation": it's an analogy...
the Matthew Arnold vs.
                 Matthew Conrad (that's me) analogy...

poor M. Arnold went home weeping
at his inadequacies, poets are never favoured by women...
poor sod... how could he cushion himself against
the onslaught of Liszt? he couldn't...
back in the day you went to see a composer play...
you just bought a ticket... even today...
you go to an opera... what can you scavenge?
merely the ******* programme... but moi?
i was working... sure...
but i was probably the only person working
that double shift who ended his shift buying
a T-shirt of the band... that's a nice cushion to have...

it sort of distanced me from envy...
from utter despair... i didn't want to be on the stage...
i didn't want to be those guys...
i was just happy buying the band's T-shirt...
i switched off in that moment...
moments prior i was worried about crowd
safety intrusions into my psyche...
the next... after all was said and sang...
i emerged like i just went and saw my
"new" favorite band for "free": well...
i got paid to see them... that's also crucial...
i was paid to see them overseeing the crowd seeing them...

maybe that's why... my focus was split...
splintered in half...
i was of a conscious akin
to a lightning bolt splitting a tree in half...
i forgot despair... i thought about seeing
them live back in circa 2004 when
the London Arena in the Docklands was still viable...
with Chad Smith pre-warming before the gig...
walking in the crowd seemingly unnoticed
in a cowboy hat... hell...
i was almost an optometrist
when Frank Bruno brushed shoulders
with me coming back from ring-side
at that Tyson fury match-up... patient little me...

i've landed the perfect job...
i remember the days when my former school-friends
would joke about me not having a job...
being misdiagnosed as a "schizophrenic"...
what the **** did they do? oh... right...
one worked in a pub... another worked in Homebase...
this general DIY wholesaler...
i was cycling past where he worked...
it's getting torn down...
i only laugh at things that other people
don't find funny: most notably my own thoughts:
or thereby a lack of them... and to think...

all it took: to be in the position
i'm in now was being "nice" to my next-door neighbour...
the same "******" story: it's not what you know...
it's who you know... no...
i couldn't possibly be the next Matthew Arnold
bemoaning whatever successes Liszt had with women...
i got a Red Hot Chilli Pepper T-shirt...

there is healthy consumerism and
there's unhealthy consumerism...
the healthy type of consumerism is akin to:
             buying a memento...
some sort of memorabilia...
i love that sort of consumerism...
since i was working i couldn't take pictures of the events...
but it has become apparent...
the T-shirt saved me from the agony
akin to Matthew Arnold's agony...
i rather think i know what i'm doing...
it's not exactly ontologically based with a bias...
it's what i've acquired...
of course i'm seeking fame...
but it's not fame associated with being alive...
it's more a fame centered with: when i am gone...

when i satiate all that's mortal about me...
that's why i reject the motives for employing
the tactics of: fake it until you make it i.e. CREDIT...
i work on a debit allowance...
i spend what i earn rather than borrow in order to spend...
sure... i'll miss out on... wait... wait...
what am i going to be missing out on?
i love the company of my coworkers...
sure... i'm not a brain surgeon...
my mother is currently watching this ****** show:

the good doctor... no! that's why doctors are not walking encyclopedias...

that's why they specialize...
no chance in hell is there a "god" in the medical profession... PLATE OF BROWN... sweet instrumental...
progressive instrumental...
bourbon is the sweeter version of whiskey...
probably the greatest "thing" to come out of H'america...
prior to the blues and jazz...
and i get told: white man bad... slavery bad...
sure...

until the original slavery emerged as introducing
the black man to musical instruments that gave
the poor white boy prune an escape from classical music...
i don't see what the "*******" problem is...
talentless people drowning gripping to razor blades...
sure... i'm sort of jealous... but i'm not envious...
i allocated myself a company of Ovid and Horace...
Milton is not going to be replicated...
i want to write something:
i will write something that's properly
resembling the sort of life worth living
at the turn of the 21st century... oh ****...
i forgot to mention my 4th love...

drinking... i mean...
whether it's bourbon or whether it's whiskey...
you can't really love something unless you bring it
to the altar of excesses... and i do just that...
perhaps i have room for a fifth... but?
seeing how my father behaves around my mother?
i hardly "think" that's a viable choice for me... ergo...
i can spare myself the unnecessary details
and go straight after the prostitutes:
i don't mind sharing... after all...
i'm not sharing alimony guilt / no guilt...
i figured out a way to avoid making "profile-contact":
eye-contact i can stomach...
but all this a priori modulations of man...
no wonder dates are so boring: dating...

i don't want to know anything about
another person: PRIOR...
i want to find out... gain knowledge...
but if i'm about to be served something on a:
precursor basis? that's... ******* boring...
no wonder i'm not interested... and never will be...
it like... you either get given a fish...
or you're given a fishing rod... and some maggots...
people have their fiddly bits...
but if people expose their fiddly bits...
the stereotype is that man is the "hunter"...
what the **** am i hunting?

i don't like hunting: i like scouting...
that's the entire problem
with Darwinism mingling with "humanism":
too much is borrowed from the natural world....
and when that happens?
imposing the natural world
on the technical world of man rarely helps anyone...

          by proxy or default... or perhaps by simply
the spiral in control of ad hoc...
i write... after all writing is an extension of thinking...
it's not an invitation to speak...
people complain about their internet access...
leverages of the comment section...
maybe i just figured a way to bypass unwarranted
"attention".... writing that's not to be sung...
lyricism: as much as i love it
i abhor it...
           because i'm not even close to singing it...
i'm also not even close to speaking
it... best left in the vaults of thought...
after all: i'm measuring my steps for a posthumous
fame...

           i couldn't rob an entertainer from his
today: our daily bread...
and there's always one member in the band
that's going to be grounded in:
a focus of creativiy:
grounded in not allowing all the caveats of fame
that come with it (fame):
the crab bucket principle...
me? i was lucky to watch both of their shows
in London...
                  while actually watching the crowd...
Matthew Arnold would have felt so much
better if he managed to get a Liszt T-shirt...
a consumer statement akin to:
i was there...
       i saw them live... look how happy i am
to be alive... i got the mother-******* T-shirt...
who gives a rat's *** about their private lives...
i too have a private life... i write scribbles that do not rhyme
and i'm juggling the idea of counter to
Nietzsche and poet-philosopher... philosophy is in
the background... but it's more a case of poet-journalist...
and i like the forest in the winter at night...
and i adore aloneness... which is a quality of being
that's un-reflective / restrictive of the expressions:
being alone or being lonely...
it's dissociative... not associative...

and i adore writing as a way to create constrains...
constraints...
                           because if i were to jump the fame
bandwagon of: "fame ruined my mortality"...
i'd be making videos... exposing myself to the world
of bad people with even more bad ideas...
**** me: filter in place...
all are welcome who seek to be served...
the rest can snuggle in a crab-bucket elsewhere...
by just consolation:
"being there" will pass me by...
i will have no concern for the world...
instead: the world will have concern for me
having past through it... that's how Heidegger's
idea is inverted:
   i have no concern for the world... for "being there":
i'm already "here"...
           for me the world is: there's being...
i can't pnpoint a "there" and couple it to "being"
to create Heidegger's bad grammar...
there's being: der welt... the world...
but there's also the self-being: selbst-sein...
                as much as there's the selbst-sein-im-der-welt...
there's also the selbst-sein-im-die-sein...
contrast: selbst-sein-im-die-selbst...

ha ha... me and a "girlfriend"? captain complications
"autistic"? no wonder i spend most of my time
around animals... this one time in the supermarket
a boy in a buggy started pointing at me...
see! that's the problem! the creatures that least understand
the complications of language: man can arrive at...
understand me best... we communicate on the focus
of onomatopoeias... syllables... vowels-alone...
finger-pointing: ooh! ooh! beard! tall man! beard!      

mein gott!
the idea of me being married is a bit like thinking
either Nietzsche or Kierkegaard being married...
or for that matter Kant...
i just kept focusing on the voyeurism presented
by pigeons... how many times they get rejected:
Darwinism is a fake:
it's not about the survival of the fittest...
it's about the survival of those who are subdue
about making the most mistakes...
i opted out... i like my comforts...
i'm not a social animal... i'm not a political animal...
ego: non animal-sociale...
   non animal-politica...
       ego-ergo: creatura-ex-solatium!
i'm a creature of comfort...
          
         i don't need complications
of womens' exfoliations...
"expectastions"...
                       bye bye... wave goodbye
the would be sinking Titanic...
       ice is a new hello!
         "women and children first"...
sink the ship... count the *****...
no... because this "****" doesn't end... unless it ends
with the DRILL FABRIC OF A MARCH...

not since it was so easy for the Islamic
Conquistadors to be made so easy
and for us "remainers" to have it made to "hard"...
then again... eh?! keep what?!
leap over what burp of a frog?!
            i'm pretty sure the Slavic world
imploded when they heard about the antics
of the "west"... i'm pretty sure the Russians were
like: before... we reach that summit of insanity...
i... a Russian... will sooner ****-fiddle an Ukrainian
with war... before the cancer spreads...
and so it happened...
                         west: my ungovernable wet ***!
"west"...
                       i might speak the language:
but churning through the outliers i'm ANTI...

  any deficiency in the orthodoxy use of language is:
HERESY...
           i have LIMITS...
**** it... i'm siding with the Russians...
i don't care...
              **** Ukraine: for Chernobyl!
we might as well find our nearest sacrifice...

BUT I KNOW THAT I'M ALREADY DEAD!
i'm just waiting for the "PAUSE" buttonz...

yeah... like that joke...
an Olaf... a Lothar and a Conrad walk into
a bar...
    only Conrad walks out...
why? because he didn't make any Hebrew jokes...
and he drank more whiskey than both
Olaf and Lothar...
i know i'm not funny...
i'm not supposed to be: ******* funny!
i'm supposed to be imitation-cannibal!

A-side

i'm truly lucky to be alive...
at least in my generation...
i was 13 when Californication came out,
i spent one afternoon
with my now estranged uncle
listening to the record while
he was working on his Porsche
eating take-away Kentucky fried
chicken...
                     talking about music and life
and *** and what not...
mostly girls...
            
my sympathy for Ukraine? none...
maybe Ukraine was part of the Soviet
Union maybe not (obviously)
but: yeah... thanks for Chernobyl...
my mother's premature chronic pain...
i might be the last drinker in the family
lineage who takes drinking
seriously: as a way to progress intellectually
but my mother's on opiates...
i was born with a "mark of Cain"...
whatever the hell it was...

it was a ******* nuclear REACTOR...
it wasn't a nuclear BOMB...
a bomb EXPLODES... a reactor IMPLODES...
who know what the ****** difference
is... but give it enough time
and you'll find out...

well... it must be bad... since how many *******
tests did the Americans the Russians
and the French carry out with bombs?
Godzilla blah blah...
       but it only took ONE bad reactor to make
people look all-crazy-at-each-other...
******* KARMA... oh yeah...
it wasn't enough to do both Hiroshima
and Nagasaki... more tests required!

and all those cases of freakish premature
cancers in eastern Europe... hell... elsewhere too...
last time i heard an imploding nuclear
reactor is like detonating 400 Hiroshima type
bombs...
and the effects were immediately apparent
in the botanical kingdom...
effects which even reached the region
where i was born...
   it was a case of Spring-Autumn...
     oh yeah... you had streaks of trees that
were autumn like: perhaps even past autumn...
sort of dead-ish... and streaks of trees
that were: spring-esque...

by then, no one knew...
                             the crescendo of the collapse
of the Soviet union...
a bit like the crescendo of the end of the second
world war and the all great h'american hard-on:

but let's face it... no other culture was so
good as the late 20th century American culture...
the Beatniks,
Charles Olson - the only post-modernist i have
any respect for... if i can call him that...
then again... i'm jumping hoops and conclusions
that that non-verbatim...

and you have to admit...
    no no... it wasn't because i was working both
the shifts for the Red Hot Chilli Peppers gig at
the London stadium: but let me tell you what...
i would have been completely ****** (OFF)
if i didn't buy tickets for both days...

day 1: opened with CAN'T STOP
day 2: opened with ALL AROUND THE WORLD
day 1: played UNDER THE BRIDGE for the encore
day 2: didn't play UNDER THE BRIDGE for the encore...

proper old-school...
that other shift i did where Weezer, Fall Out Boy
and Green Day played...
even the guys i was working with were like:
they (i.e. Green Day) 'these guys don't know when to
shut up'... i was like... oh... right, this song?
they'll finish on that one:
   it's one of those sentimental closure songs...
one of the girls sang that song
in an assembly when we were leaving school:
(have the) time of your life...

i was sure of it... oops... a ******* Dawid Bovie cover!
sure... people are at a gig... we're too,
but we also want to: ******* go home...
and we can't until all these ******* leave first!
ugh!

- thank god (casually expressed, eat dog doog...
yes - intentional, FELA'S **** is the *******
groove party - food)
i'm not one of those people forming a cliche
opinion about whether i'm a fan of the Beatles
or whether the Rolling Stones...
ask me again... James Brown yes...
and Red Hot Chilli Peppers' A-sides
or Red Hot Chilli Peppers' B-sides...

now... that's a tough one...

mind you: what gave birth to the Communist project?
pan-Slavism...
there were plenty of Hebrews living in Russia
and in Poland... i guess those people were
like... sure... let's try...
if we **** up: we'll **** up SPECTACULARILY...
and "we" did... but... the current reiteration
of "communism" in the VEST?
hmm... all this post-grammatical-mystique...
oh look! adjective, verbs, nouns,
the indefinite article and a definite article
are being neglected by the hyper-focus on pronouns...

it's like a second imaginary Chernobyl imploded
and fried people's intellectual capacity
for formal / casual conversation talking
about the weather and buses being late...

i'm only saying that Red Hot Chilli Peppers is
a band of / for my generation because...
i've already come across younglings
that haven't heard of them...
YES!                             and the band too...
but finally! i've reached the cut-off point
where i'm part of a zeitgeist that is reaching its
zenith-nadir...
                       the equilibrium akin to the Olympic
passing of the torch... although:
there's not much of a fire left...
       just an unlit torch... instead of fire: ambers
of a once fire...

but that's what happens... i understand the paranoid
Russians all too well...
back in 2007 they were such welcoming people:
i still don't understand why the western media
narrative about McDonald's being shut down
in Russia suddenly turned into a new fast food
chain under a different name serving the same food...
when i was in Russia: i swear to god...
i didn't see a single McDonald's... so... twinkle toes...
hum hum hmm...

were "my" people paid reparations
for the **** invasions? i know the Hebrews were...
oh yeah: we had that glorious task of being
invaded and then told to stack 'em bricks
for the crematorium CHIMNEYS...
well... it could have been worse...
we could have been told to ***** the NECROPHILIC
architecture of ancient Egypt in the guise
of the pyramids...

and because being under the Soviet yoke
of influence... and then... oh god! they gave "us" a
******* first non-Italian POPE!
one hand washes the other
but neither hand knows what the other hand
is doing... from ultra-atheism to ultra-catholic
conservatism...
"our" capital shouldn't be called Warsaw...
(no jokes about that, unlike Bangkok)
                                it should be called Seesaw...

backwards and forwards... as Norman Davis pointed
out: god's playground...
which it is... mind you: i'm sort of bad tempered
when it comes to being a Siamese-twin with
my Deutsche neighbours...
lucky that some of those Schwabs or Saxons
migrated... settled on some ****** weather island
and mingled with the Velsh and the Picts and
whatever other Celtic remains were left
in Europe...

oh but yesterday... that old man made me lose my
cool... i was already sweating it out for over
an hour and he exclaims in the street like
those manic street Apocalypse preachers:
where are you lights!
if i stopped i would have properly explained
than merely pointing at my rear-light glowing
red and telling to *******...
BUT YOU WOULDN'T SAY JUST AS MUCH
IF IT WAS ONE OF THOSE INDIAN
DELIVEROO ELECTRIC BICYCLE GUYS?!
would you, old man?
mind you: old man... you give a rat's *******
about one cyclist... then tell me...
who does your council employ... shouldn't
the street lights already be switched on?!
    hmm.. already be...
shouldn't the street lights be already switched on?
that sounds... eerie...

shouldn't the street lights already be switched on
shouldn't the street lights be already switched on...
i honestly can't decide upon the correct
grammar... let's be trans-grammatical about that one...
after all... it's all trans-biology anyway...
a bit like Plato telling Sisyphus that the gods
forgot about him and that he can stop his pointless
toiling... or what Plato mentioned about
being punished and being reincarnated
as a woman if one begins as a man...
well: to hell with reincarnation: time's up for
theology now that science speeds things up...

scary world... even scarier people...
THIS DOOR NEEDS HINGES!
bring in the unhinged experts in not-doors!
yesss... we need a house with enough of
BREEZE!
me? i'm just complementing their insanity with
my own special strain that prostitutes call:
GOOD-CRAZY.
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2017
autism is the counter-theoretical term for solipsism.

my curiosity at my cat's curiosity
concerning a moth;
if ever the reverse
of the biblical eye-for-an-eye
could be true...
    it would be
           the quivalent
of the *templar cantos
;
it's still
    but a man
   and a cat,
        and a cat curious
about a moth having
   a shadow...
  and the man
       curious as to how
a cat has a meow;
fiddly bits, spiders,
        scavenging the keyboard
for the third silence...
beyond alphabet,
beyond diacritical markings,
             beyond all knwon
skeletal procession celebrated
in mexico...
             i admit, a cat fetish...
**** me, aren't cats ontologically
                     autistic?
for me orangutans
resemble down syndrome...
           as cats resemble autism.
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2018
i lied... well... to be more exact:
stalled a forthcoming reality...
  when i'm due to visit my grandparents...
my demented grandfather
who still recognizes me:
climbing trees and putting my toddler's
hand into the Alsatian's snout
as a toddler -
   oh Bela Bela Bela...
          a ******* dog...
and god she hated uniformed men,
esp. police officers...
   like the ******* plague...
i like my dementia suffering grandfather,
i love nit-picking at his
memory...
which is grand...
watching an old man sit through
a cameo of existence,
with his own cinema where he's
the central actor...
   it's false what they say:
when you die, you die with an instance,
a timelessness occupying a
space...
           for the whole
"my life flashed before my eyes":
you need to be diagnosed with
dementia...
            i guess: "oops" is in order?
they didn't tell you that,
did they?
      don't worry,
i too thought that good grades at school
could land me an equivalent
of an A+ at the curriculum
activity of obedience...
   didn't ******* work...
that's as much as i know...
         i guess listening to a dementia
sufferer can become tedious,
but you learn to spark up his presence
outside the membrane of
"nostalgia"...
    but it's an old man...
he's bound to become impassioned by a past...
   i know i would...
it's the most ontologically sound
mortality mechanism known to man...
"dementia": no...
not dementia...
  big difference between Alzheimer's
and dementia...
  big, Big, BIG ******* difference...
Alzheimer's is psychotic dementia...
   dementia / nostalgia is quiet
different...
it's an overload of memory...
it's a form of solipsism...
  an automated meditation,
well... "meditation"...
    the man needs an outlet for
his memories...
he can't lock them up in a dungeon...
the tedium comes from
the outlet of the original content
of "natural" selection...
  as "natural" as a woman
   within the confines of the concept
of hypergamy...
   which, evidently,
is the good twin of the evil twin
polygamy...
           the tedium comes around
when you realize precisely
the bewildering nature of
memoria-selectio...
   there's nothing natural about
"natural" selection...
           there are pre-emptive conditioning
within the confines of
ontology - which is still
a framework of study -
not a popularized spew of
biological dogma...
god... can you even imagine how
selective we are with our
experience, back-cataloged with
recounting memories?
  you wouldn't believe the ****...
it's twice as "random"
as a blonde seeking a rich Arab
for a husband so they can
"parent" their pet poodle...
if you're lucky... sure...
prior to death...
you life will flash before your eyes...
apparently we can't select
memories...
   and you'll be lying back,
all afternoon,
watching the cinema of your mind's
content...
demented... by clinical
practitioners...
     sometimes... as in the case
of my grandfather...
dementia likes to couple itself
to either:
   hypochondria...
   or melancholy...
         or sometimes both...
hence my fascination with the phenomenon
of premature melancholy
in the english speaking youth...
how can you actually be depressed
about something,
if the depression doesn't stem from
a post-scriptum?
        i can understand melancholy
in an old man...
but in someone young?
      i'm buying the alternative
argument:
   a guilt from feeling jealousy...
i'm not buying premature depression,
what i am buying is:
   a guilt festering within
the origins of jealousy...
but like with my grandfather:
you have to **** the memory bank,
catching him off-guard,
so he can tell a relative memory
within the same time-frame...
   which rarely happens...
yet as i pointed out...
   i've been covertly studying him...
dementia attracts
hypochondria and depression...
i'll sit and listen to the list
of ailments between
   his memory-cinema -
              or... i'll distract him by
reading a book,
while he sits on the balcony or snoozes
off into the afternoon...
   cook him breakfast:
scrambled eggs with onions -
while he reminds me:
i always eat dairy products,
never meat, for breakfast,
and it has been so for 30 odd years...
   as a former alcoholic
he slipped into
a drug-dependency of
prescription and non-prescription
drugs to combat insomnia...
naturally...
he over-sleeps most of the time...
but...
what do you expect?
   a career in the metalwork factory...
going to bed at 10pm,
waking up at 4am for over 30 years?
dementia is the basis for
an ontological study of:
qua pre qua fro...
                why do people freak out
about dementia "sufferers"?!
   not enough oil in the *******
engine to watch the spectacle of
mortality?!
            they're less disorientated
then middle-aged "concerned" children...
they can solve crosswords...
the problem being:
   you scare them... they'll scare you...
**** me! what a waste of decent reasoning!

.........................
...............................
intermission, akin to the Offspring's
Ixnay on the Hombre
................................
  ..............................­..............

i was once called a, philosopher by some
infatuated teen...
   **** me... that's not a compliment,
or blessing, but a curse!
   imagine going to a birthday party
of an 18 year old...
   you get flocked by seagulls,
of hyenas...
you smile and exhausted smile...
      can this, whatever this is,
please be over?
       the garden and a clingy cat,
companion like a pain in the ***...
of some estranged dog in the forest
as night...
   anything but these thirty or so
***** teen virgins,
sitting in my lap...
pulling at my beard...
          there's ***** with intent...
but then there's ***** without
consent...
talking about consent:
you're better off prostitutes...
what can they dare "claim":
you ***** them?
    the best they can do is claim
is that you didn't PAY THEM...
but as all prostitutes know:
you pay up-front...
so? so pretend your index index
is a tapeworm crawling into one
of your nostrils,
and then pretend to sneeze...

   my arachnophobia reaches
the proportion of spiders that are,
equivalent to the size of
my thumb's nail...
spotted erratically...
by surprise...
  i'm not exactly irrationally
apprehensive,
   whenever i spot a Muslim girl
wearing a headscarf...
   hence the "illogical" apprehension
of a term...

   i lied... why did i lie?
whenever i visit my grandparents
i intend to read
   françois rabelais'
   GARGANTUA & PANTAGRUEL...
ibn **** in your mouth my ***...
i just solved a sudoku puzzle,
and i have a excavated a narrative
to compensate...

quote:
    evil is the work and idle the activity,
   wanting to cleanly wipe one's own
***, with a piece of paper...

like i already mentioned:
#metoo?
   go to prostitutes...
you can't exactly be accused of anything
other than a non-payment...
but then you don't get
accused, you get beaten into a plum...
so? the Pontius Pilate motto:
you wash your hands...
  there's no shame in
what otherwise becomes shame
of being accused...

      you wipe your hands cleans,
and your *** too...
god forbid some teenage girl calls you
a philosopher, in that odd, most odd way...
you're standing right in front of her,
and she summons a ghost,
of someone, saying:
   'talk to this, philosopher'...

see... i need a toothpick for this sort
of crap...
     something is lodged between my teeth...
European languages have a pronouns
concept of nouns...
      a table can be a she,
a chair can be a he...
   english is a grammatically barren tongue...
hence? gender neutrality of
pronouns and identity politics...
    come to think of it...
quiet a ****** language to speak
in cosmopolitan areas -
or rather: a-rears...
        *** for a foocking foot...
and tongue to boot...

           so i'm a "philosopher" to some teenage
girl... in third person...
the girl was talking to a ******* ghost,
i was addressed in third person as
such... sure... my girlfriend's name
is Sophia... but whether it's love,
or not... is a BIG question to mark a genesis
with!

      **** it, whatever...
if you really want to invite the genre of philosophy
into your YA diet of fiction,
there's only one book your need to read...
Russell's - history of western philosophy...
please don't meddle in the headache
of the specific books...

let's begin with a syllogism
(two or more propositions,
combined, to give a third,
identical to the proposed two)...
a Kantian revision of Aristotelian
   barbara:

all men are mortal (major premiss)
socrates is a man (minor premiss)
therefore: socrates is mortal (conclusion).
or?
all men are mortal
all greeks are men
   therefore: all greeks are mortal...

p.s. and some are women.

i propose a variant of this logic...
Kantian...
  a logic of meaning replacing
words with mathematical
symbols,
akin to:
  
   ergo is +, -, x, ÷ or √ etc.
given that est is solidified
by a "mirror" of translation, =.

under the layer of "logic":

1, carrots,
   1, orange,
   2, all carrots are orange...

1 + 1 = 2...

if that makes any sense...
then again...
how many grammatical categories
of words are there,
and how many numbers?

noun, verb, adjective,
pronoun....
             conjunction....
definite / indefinite article...
adverb...
          prefix, suffix,
affix... abbreviation...

   and at this point, i lose count...

0    0    0    7    0    0    0    0    0
0    0    4  ­  5    8    0    0    6    2
5    0    0    6    0    0    0    9­    0
1    0    6    0    0    0    7    0    0
0    0    8    0 ­   0    0    9    0    0
0    0    7    0    0    0    2    0    ­4
0    2    0    0    0    3    0    0    8
4    8    0    0    9­    6    1    0    0
0    0    0    0    0    1    0    0    0

t­hus, the narrative
to compose
via the following
narrative:

9 2 1 6 8 8 8 6
9 7 1 1 1 3 3 7
9 4 2 2 3 3 6 9
6 6 7 7 7 7 5 2
4 5 2 3 4 4 5 3
5 5 2 5 8 8 1 3
3 1 4 9 9 4 5 ( )...

this

8    6    9    7    3    2    5    4    1
7    1    4­    5    8    9    3    6    2
5    3    2    6    1    4    8   ­ 9    7
1    4    6    9    2    8    7    3    5
2    5    8    ­3    4    7    9    1    6
3    9    7    1    6    5    2    8  ­  4
9    2    1    4    7    3    6    5    8
4    8    5    2   ­ 9    6    1    7    3
6    7    3    8    5    1    4    2    9.­..

and i once said i'd depict this sort
of "narrative"... sober...
      well **** me...
even i wished myself
          good-luck!

then again: even i know i over-stretched
the whole case to revise
Aristotelian logic...
   it's not that the "argument"
i made doesn't make sense,
it only means that i don't,
even vaguely, want to entrench it
into a solidified case for defense
that might span centuries...

            basically...
if all sentences begin and end with
the intermediating: ergo...
    can we bypass some things?
    i hate propositions,
maxim writings akin to Nietzsche,
because, simply because they are
propositions...
         they're not presuppositions...
and even if they are presuppositions...
which they are not...
        you can test any proposition
and ensure it's the truth,
by failing to comply with
a presupposition...

   i hate aphorisms...
precisely because...
wait...
           it's true because it has been
tested / experienced?
          it's proposed because
it can't be presupposed as
ontologically inherent?
    what is it?!
         so if it is an observation
a posteriori...
         what could possibly galvanize
these philosophies toward
orientation "supposing"
objective truths?
  
as far as i am concerned:
subjectivity is wholly a posteriori...
while objectivity is wholly
a priori...
    which confuses me...
          how can you write
an aphorism -
mind you, aphorisms are engrossed
in the biographical -
    and suppose it to be
an apriori, objective truth?
  
     no... i will not elaborate on
this observation...
                too busy... drinking.
Anatomically

If you were to remove my tongue,  
I would still have  
The pen and the inkwell.  

Ontologically

If you were to take out my tongue,  
And the pen from my hand,  
I would still think, feel, and live my poetry.  

Ethically

If you were to tear out my heart,  
What use would I have  
For the pen and the inkwell?
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2019
i have to find, but two media outlets
that i think, still have some spine /
integrity left in them:
  the sunday times
and FAMA radio...
    funny... radio...
   all those years amassing a private
collection of records...
buying what i wanted to hear...
but who can blame me,
all the English radio stations
were ****!
      GMT+1h "frequency"
  between the SUT (standard universal
time) hours of 23:00
          and... 07:00 hours...
this radio station
       doesn't allow  graveyard shift
DJ or adverts...
          it's pure,
    unadulterated marathon of song
after song...
    the unexpected journey feeling,
that i always looked for...
when collecting music records...
sure, some eurotrash,
some Anglo bongo-bongo
    in a mental asylum,
   or some other, if not other i.e.
   just when things weren't spicy enough
when Gein was woken from
the **** of the flux:
   being reminded by all the people
with inhibited momentum
he ever interacted with:
   gaze at the paedos of England...
you necrophilia sell-face...
    i guess having ingested
the film the neon demon
"logic" would state the hierarchy:

homosexuality
bisexuality
heterosexuality
pederasty (and older man
and a teen boy, e.g. /
the nuance
of a man and a, ugh,
   legal consenting woman
beyond the age
of consent)
Onan
paedophilia
necrophilia

    ah... but a bee gees
sing-along classic...
seems to posit the necrophilic
a tier above
         the *******...

funny, in a world of so many
phobias...
   there are only two philias...
well, 3, to be exact,
but the third is a prefix love,
while the other two loves
are suffix loves...
mind you...
   i put them in the same
category...
      taboo...
i. e. a concept of a public
intellectual by english,
rather than frech standards...
is someone who talks
freely,
      and by speaking freely:
is a "cognitive" reactionary...
it's already "too late"
when speaking freely replaces
thinking freely... unless...
speaking freely was never
to replace the already non-existent
freedom to think:
to think - and the rarity
of obscure verbs,
like out of vogue words...

but not all newspapers,
and not all radio stations...
with a halfway lit-out
cigarette:
   i guess i could be mistaken
for toking a cigar,
other than a damp filter...

if i will ever make it on
the morning t.v.
session with jeremy kyle....
sure... white trash t.v.
my arument would run
along the lines:

if my former girlfriend thought
i was being irresponsible
trusting her to take th pill,
when she implored
me to take th ****** off
(apparently women stopped
unfathomig uncircumcised
men)...
      well...
    unless both me
and some ******* were
being irresponsible
throwing rubber ducks
into the park lake
to agitate abnormal
homosexuality in mallards
   (what, homosexuality is abnormal
in animal species...
  excuses for men, again,
not mice,
   the hybrid case,
  neither animal, nor god,
what remains
of a bull - god -
   in a chinashop - nature)
   if i were you
   i'd ready myself
   for the Latin variety of
    ab and dis...
when it comes to Norman
           and Easley...
       well yeah...
  casual *** is bound to social
contract?
    funny...
   i once heard that money
is *****...
   for all its squalor in the bank
of Mammon...
  clemency...
    cleanest ***...
   unless of course h.i.v.
    is transmitted ******,
via... gulping down an oyster...
mannig-up from
what Samson left of a temple
we blinded,
a slap in the face
when punching myself 20 times
in the head for a plum
mascara?
   no wonder i shied from
ineractions based on my naivete,
on presuppositions of reciprocate
trust...
     odd...
   but not really...
you ever find atheists
    who spew their anti-belief...
simply because...
   they have managed
   to establish trust...
          ever wonder why belief
is not exactly a coping
mechanism,
    there's nothing
   ontologically a priori about it,
it's ontologically a posteriori...
belief is the spawn *******
child of a lost trust,
of an undermined trust,
and it has so little with imagining
a celestial dictator...
more with a chris rea song...
and so little with the mental asylum
of an atheist's conern / concept
of reimagining the simple...
being told a lie is one thing...
a shallow focus of plateau negation,
squabbles for rumour...
but being taught distrust...
whatever belief resurfaces
from the remnant rubble...
           ah...
             at this point...
trying to elaborate on the jeremy kyle
analogy...
   is a bit like having a fetish
for being castrated,
circumcised, scalped,
   and then hanged on a scaffold
in a public domain.
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2019
.i don't know about having any edgy opinion, what i will subsequently write is not, even, remotely, concerned with the current political climate, a political opinion these days feels a bit like, what a piece of paper is, in a bureucratic heap of, more papers... perhaps it's just too predictable, too ontologically repetitive, i guess i wish i could honestly put my mouth where the vote is supposed to be... indirectly indicating something for the past years feels: like it doesn't feel like anything at all... point being: the british home office was about to make a few ad. cues to reassure the 4 million or so E.U. citizens living in the U.K. for more than 5 years, with legal paperwork outlines, enabling them to gain work permissions, and remain in the U.K., it was in the newspapers, it was supposed to be on t.v., saw jackshit.

who the hell said that emotions are overrated?
**** me:
   the same could be told in reverse:
no one cares, what you're thinking,
isn't that the usual reply a man tells another
man when he jokes
about why he broke up with his girlfriend?
i.e. she asked me what i was thinking...
cue: enter the dragon quotes...

         lee: what was that? an exhibition? i
    said emotional content, not anger.
                 now try again!
              don't think.....feeeeeel!!
don't think! FEEL. it is like a finger pointing
a way to the moon...
  don't concentrate on the finger
or you will miss all that heavenly glory.

true: am i to become some apathetic
zombie,
   who can't experience the emotional
joy of music to the point of crying...
   i still don't know why the classic.fm
station is pandering to Elgar...
   the one british classical music composer
that you keep: for the per se of
keeping him...
    well yeah...  Haendel was an immigrant,
sorry, sorry, ex-pat...
   he's an immigrant if he's foreign,
but the locals call themselves ex-patriots
when moving to H'america...
well, not **** Sherlock:
  i'm an ex-pat too...
   from a former soviet satellite bound
                          to the varshavah pact...
"oddly" enough:
i sometimes care for what a person feels,
than what they think...
   feelings... even made / make sense
in the orient, esp. how to hide-them...
        sometimes feelings are all you have
for diesel...
   the more content someone is,
the less chance of them blah-blah-blabbering
away...
       clearly someone could turn
up, and say: i don't care what you think...
it's a staff...
you can hit with it,
    but you can also have it grappled out
of your hands, and be hit with it in turn...
if classic.fm didn't pander so much
to Elgar,
   but credit where credit is due...
vaughan williams is fairly represented...
thus the observable crescendo...
  some albums...
you just need to listen to on vinyl,
WITHOUT HEADPHONES...
       this is not some "spectacular" /
obscure album...
   notably on thick vinyl,
       it's just the velvet underground's
debut...
   i guess the sense of watching a vinyl
spin at 33rpm while watching
france slaughter iceland,
   or portugal unable to figure out serbia
on the t.v. on mute...
while drinking a beer...
   in the back of my mind,
     filling the room with sound...
what would be chemistry representation
of a vinyl ushered into
the cauldron of a room's already
busy schedule of oxygen, nitrogen,
carbon dioxide and all the other gases?
     what's music in chemical representation...
i'm only asking,
   **** me, studied chemistry
to a university tier,
   and i still don't know what
the chemical formula is, for... wood.
am i going to find it out?
   seriously?
   and replace my flux / stasis of awe,
by a fact?
    the narrative would crumble...
            it was always going to be
an album from the 1960s,
   whether jazz or the velvet underground...
has to be on vinyl,
and NO HEADPHONES.

p.s. and the whole acknowledgement
of Delmore Schwartz on the album...
former teacher to lou reed...
   n'ah...
   gesaffelstein without headphones
would never work...
   great music,
too instrusive on the sensibility
                      of mahoghany...
             which figures:
i was never into punk, or rap,
even if all the irish kids at my
high school began entangled with
that famous "albino"...
             it was never really metal,
but prog rock...
               ant subsequently prog metal...
you just had to resort to the rare
pleasure of deriving pleasure from
cogitans per se,
          and only speak:
                       when implored to speak;
most the "things" that require
speech, are so blatantly obvious anyway,
that some slight
reference to body language
can translate what doesn't even
                 require a vortex of tongues.
banal...
                somehow that word
has so much resonance,
right about now,
    it has become "infected" with
       verbirations...
           as if it was a word in my native
tongue...
           edgy comments...
          not unless i know something on
the subject matter at hand...
     *****-nilly...
        i would be a dialectical fraud
if i pretended to care about something
that,
              only injects
   the food-stuff of cartilege, bone marrow
and brains into the pig trough.
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2019
.monotheism suspected men, to be ontologically docile, autistic, solipsistic in terms of their relation to women... hence they provided an catalyst-esque solution... to shame, their ****** drive derived for an ultra-private expedience, and exploit it, toward a ****** drive... derived within the confines of a non-reciprocated ultimatum... monotheism, ergo... is... very much a religion for women... islam is, of course, part of it... the three strands of monotheism... are... m'eh... religions derived by women, for women, at the expense of male genital mutilation... thank **** that i was not circumcised... i'm over 'ere, with the ***** and the 'indu.

i'll sooner appreciate pushing out a ****,
than watching a sunrise,
custard mind all over again..

    and what's up with this,
background noise...
of either a train chuggling
into the "distance"...
it's already in the "distance"...

almost a thank god moment:
hercules went mad...

  counter the "train"...
i hear forses galloping,
like an entourage precursor...
i definitely "hear"
horses, galloping,
those are certainly hooves..

and the **** is up
with men, in western culture,
being orientated around
having to make priority
over ***....
       eh?
         you ****,
or...
     you don't...
and if you don't...
you find counter outlets...
t'ah d'ah...
  stay up all night
for a channel 5 movie
screening of neon demon...
just because:
you gorged over the sountrack...

a little bit of wiggly-here,
and a bit of wiggly-woo...
mike myers doing
the fat ******* "quiz"....
hey presto! some sort of sushi!

i always ask a sane person,
do you, do you,
do you hear that, that train?
the usual answer, no.
so i ask again,
do you, do you hear those horses?
the usual answer is, no.

should have sniffed lines of *******
and "elaborated"
on an eric clapton classic...
****, turn over,
next chapter...
   that sad sad story of
always and everywhere but
always and everywhere
provided, it happens in Yankee-town...
burp...
     as long as pweety gurl is
all gurl for girl groove...
and.. it's h'america...
   coolio.

****-hole town h'america,
where everyone minds their own business...
nope...
   hey pretty...
that's not on the cards...
     ******* giggles into the night...
which is the worthwhile
template...
a thumb's length of whiskey
in the afternoon,
english politics,
           fish & chips...
a bottle of wine,
a beer for the walk:
****! where's the dog?!
  and back onto the whiskey...

basics: you find me drinking in
the daylight hours,
you find me giggling...
ergo you find me in a good mood...

      i once mate an inmate,
a fellow, nutritionist,
of ethnicity, inmate,
by the name of Paul...
a dub-step d.j. pusher...
who taught me:
amphetamines give you
insomnia...
so i drank and i drank:
and kept on drinking...
and snorted very little,
and...
   "bias"...

                what?!
i don't have an idea relating
to tinder or
game of thrones...

zero, zilch,                 wh'ah?!

i hate to break it for you,
it's still a ******* train charging
in the background,
or three horsemen
looking out for the fourth...

   in terms of a train?
romford train station is...
5 miles away from my house...
visual hallucinations are clarity
prone...
   auditory hallucinations?
eh, come again?

           how advanced can
the faculty of imagination be,
when there's no walt disney,
and it's purely solipsistic
projection?
    how can my imagination
be so advanced,
so insular,
        and at the same time...
have a negative affect on me?

  trains, horses...

   point of a somewhat base
for "closure",
   when i told them:
i heard a choir, in a church,
heading up to camden town...
they presumed
the choir i heard
was singing latin...

      who the hell said
"they" were singing in latin?!
they, the psychiatric team,
simply presumed,
it was latin...
      **** on me...
what if it was greek?
    
            or hebrew?

or... occult zunge?
         when will it become necessary,
for people, to realise,
that... a projection of the imagination,
as a reply to genuine
symptoms of schizophrenia...

              does, not, exist...
if imagination was as potent,
as it, already is,
in the positive extracts of
the already stated examples...
you'd get a movie,
or a painting...
        but... in the majority of the cases...
projection of the imagination,
a free reign of the imagination
in reply, governed by a complexity
of thought, within
the symptom of auditory hallucinations...

you're serious... right?
you want me to be serious with this,
"theory"?
          
    perhaps dostoyevsky said the following:
    
   'to angels - vision of god's throne,
         to insects - sensual lust'

i can compensate,
      the thrill, a brothel, a period of
vomitting,
  nerves shattered, asking for a cup
of water,
   while sitting before Nazgûl "harem"
of ******...
and then back into the western
narrative of feminism,
and... forever unable to relate to it...
once every 3 years will do just fine,
for an hour's worth of *******...

      but this constant: yap-yap-yapping
about ****** *******,
or lack, thereof, this constant bragging,
compare little richards all you want...
you circumcised?
i said, are, you m.g.m.?
   male genital mutilation example?
yes, no? no? yes?
       you have a hoodie,
the jerking-off allowance "jacket"?
yes, no? no? yes?
      audioslave: miami vice sountrack?
bells, bells, ring any?
      oh, right,
so you're telling me she can play the *****-dodo
game over a web-cam,
with you, attired to, "express yourself"
with scented candles,
    a credit card,
               and a comfy chair?
    **** on me,
and i thought that baptism was bad,
i just "forgot" in being confirmed...
   too bad...
   given you can't exactly regrow your
*******...
        and it's not like you're going
to suddenly don a kippah,
     or... a tonsure...
                                        oops?!

well, yeah...
   why wouldn't it boil down to the genitals...
if there's such a concept as
f.g.m., then there's m.g.m.,
   why rob men of the requisite of
the ability of jerking off
without shaming via the act per se...
oh i'm pretty sure
  Onan was shamed...
once he performed the act,
after, he was circumcised...
hey, i'm competing with fweedom!
a gurly girl,
                  a *****, and a webcam!

bull: china shop...
   and by god i think...
this will morph, spawn...
       and become the awaited
form of abomination.
Saint John the Apostle says: "Zephian, the computer of the Duoverse of the Verthian world, signals the order of his creation of the world according to the transcendental vegetable living matter in the interstices of time itself that exists within sidereal time. Pointing out that matter and time are governed by mythological beings in a compartment with monotheism defined by atavistic laws, which are the omnipotence of the intense hiding place of procreation, super-providing large contextual residences, for habitat and a world on the scales of non-resident elders who go from passers-by between lines and cosmological phenomena in the Duoverse, facing the vicissitudes of stars and physicality added to the arcs of the reminiscence of emotions. Thus the main task and how the structure of the experience surpasses wisdom, making the orthogonal movement of the Universe fictitious, but Verthian with great explorations of matter that is absolutely quantified and volatilized to the field of incorporeal existence. The laws will be governed by its demiurge organizer Zefián, describing codes that will verify pivotal performances in the reactions of the mutant universe. His refractions when reasoning of the consummated phenomenon start from here in the distinguished biological one, which will surpass the laws of physics, since its ratio-value is above the limits allowed by the brave line of gravity that bounces off the lines and their distances, promoting more criteria to resist the threats of a possible tiring case, a product of some relative dominance not included in all the worlds among themselves or in some judgment that does not rescue us from the loss of links of a certain omitted coordinate, attracting us to a universe ruled towards hemicycles of merely material and non-biological-existential particles. The dimensions range from the beginning of the universe itself, more delayed than the interval of the second limit of space that rests to inaugurate the next one. It will be the orbit of translation twice rotating to the sun, but nth times turning on itself to go out to another stellar dimension not present. Its geometry will be the administration of the resumption of cinnabar in Tsambika and Helleniká, to annul each other by making and integrating it in Patmos, on the shores of Skalá, with curvatures that validate the nullity of successive factions of material lives, among spiritual victims if alive. The oblation and concavity of the Duoverse will be of universal contact in excessive proximity in a few radios to support the equidistant gravity between both atmospheres, adopting the subsequent consequences with a shared micro-existence in both universal Astro units, as a dense but fractal particularity fragmented to changes coercive in the conception of creation, of the original true world, gestated in a pristine Kosmous and resistance modeling of high intermediate masses of temperatures, expanding above what surrounds, under a flexible world that opposes resisting, but that unfolds to relocate to its origins of integrity and adaptable physical material. Duoverso is born and will reappear every time the years are subject to the devastation of everything quantifiable and not, under the dim light that will light up all the darkness, Zefián being in paronymy in what is missing to appropriate sustenance and merit of having it adsorbed. in the tabernacle of the Vas Auric and its namesake Medayllon, in the privilege of appearance itself, adding in what is preserved from physical support without a doubt right there. A fair sidereal speed will have to travel on its own axis of rotating time in the paradoxical gear of the One-Dimensional Beams with the same reconverted into vital angelic luminance, creating orbits of optics in the visions of Christian profanity. It empowers them to enable them in overexcited that derive from disorders of intermittence and physics of time, to reinsert themselves in the sequence that inhabits the residual velocity of the Beam, as a Theo-Philosophical entity, and of the cellular multiplicity in seasonal cells. of the retrograde lapses frozen in Qumram, so as not to depend on its Kabbalah sustained by the regime of a compound past, and of the inconcrete yesterday. The immediacy was surpassed, preserved in the conviction of the One-Dimensional Beams (Kafersesuh), observing itself more densely when all revolutionary extinction admits to being in the proper place to integrate and ponder peremptorily, attracting organic and inorganic matter suspended in the richness of a world of scientific but unique Faith. , and Single incessant prayer, more anti-gregarious and dilapidated than what is supported by vain walls, which do not exist in Verthian emotional matter. Its movement and translation are always advanced, even before we coexist, already being domains of being transposed of what was, is, and will be transposed and floating in its abrogated form!

The movements, being physical, take us over conjectured layers to discern their magnitude by percentage the rigor of their measurement on us, in exchange for Zefián's ambivalence, delivered both chromatics of the Dark and White Duoverse, with the reference of the behavioral alternations of the Diospyros, spring of the arboreal, for the procreation granted in the hands of Leiak. Sustaining from this equational exercise, with less time to design for its genealogy, but rather in its apocalypse reinstalled in null primary unknown spaces, to have it again in the light of consciousness, recognized as an inert matter of the past, and more alive of the immanent eternity of nebulae that personalize the Abrojo earring, taking temporality but null as it does not ****** any hand to tear it from its own. Every divided and subdivided elementary particle of the Duoverse will gravitate under what is speculated, rising in total harmony through the accommodating compressions of a whole material accessory, especially in sudden death processes, which occurred illustrated and not compressed in the percentage eternity of materiality of the dark. (current) and luminous (happened), being those who govern it will manifest anticipations of everything dark (present) and luminous (past-future), for the energetic alternation succumbed so many times, like a uniform cross in the center of the world after so many times having fallen in past-future.

Says Vernarth : "in the rhetoric of the Universe-Duoverse theorem, it is worth noting the topic of the past with a present and future entity as well but atopic or out of place Hellenic, connected to the time of Verthian inspiration, Holderlin-Heidegger indefinite in terms of habitability physical, as a complement to the entity that anticipates the present/future in the vicinity of death in the topical past and future, but tangentially with lively whims of atopic mortal-existentialism, being a way of renting virtual death, and as a way of being dwelling in death itself and its act of embodiment, then having existed but with its own edict after having rented it. The Verthian World appears in this stereotype, prolonging existences from the atopic non-existence, granting it a complementarity of more past scientific romantic life, after an uninhabited death. Ontologically, this theory is born from the One-Dimensional Beams of Kafersesuh, in Ein Karem. Essentially paleo-Christian, as the matrix of existence between Ein Karem (Manger of the Messiah) and Gethsemane, inter nexus of the materiality of metaphysical inflections product of the immaterial purpose of unlived and hypothetical life, as an urgent sacrilegious decline, anticipated of the dimension of the life-death-life process of Comparative Christian Messianism.

Vernarth says: "with the slaves, in my disparate hands I picked up what the other carried. With my right hand, I took the Duoverse, and with the other my bearer; that I had my commands on the maxims of Elpenor before falling to the cliff. One naughty day but with the worst pain in my chest I went to see him in his room, and I structured him as an immortal when it came to forming the world "not even knowing of being part of an identity" favoring him to be part of my deflagration convulsed by the friction of the Universe on the Duoverse. Such was that bravery and affordability, that he decorated me with some unexpected laments of belonging by imprisoning me with superfluous boasting. But his boldness will be mine, and he will have to anticipate it in the middle of a fight, such as in Gaugamela hurting my two spirits, one deleterious and the other not..., Says the Porter: "I have to accede to your mandate, my lord Vernarth, I have arranged my horse emetics to take him to the empyrean, more unusual at nightfall. I know that my own absence will also take her, because we are double lives loving her, falling into a night given over to the seventh Phalangist soldier. Between souls already diluted by the misfortune of the sap, in the figure of eternal death that refuses to receive us discouraged" Says Vernarth: "I don't know if I am or will be brave, therefore I have forgotten to take the herd, rather I don't I know what it is?, but in the midst of the horses and hosts of the block, from the Syntagma in Gaugamela that I have not felt again what it is to take my herd after feeling my hands and legs divided, but not feeling when appropriating some parabens amputated. I know that among the hypaspists we tricked umpteenth arrows in the mobilization of the war machine 665, but in a wasteful jump we gathered the delusion of the Phalangist command in the Seleucid 666 ringlera, rather detached from all men, substantially inclined to Alexandrian life, "Of course it was already in the hands of eternity, which hurts more than the tip of an arrow even if I perjured myself to its annihilation" Vernarth's act of intrepidity and daring would take him over the precipice that even skewed and declined the world as it sustained him, putting his fellow man face to face, as antagonist and protagonist at the same time with his chest flowing over the white linens that they spoke of certainties of a scaffold, still where others surrounded them with peace and Olympian protection, making him..., only today the pair of himself abstracted with contemptuous lineage..., even having to reinstitute himself as Vernarth most elusive of being alive and eternal, still having in its vocabulary the essence of knowing Being Heideggerian, with firsts of erudition, starting from the nova on excitation, having cognition and knowing oneself diligently about the entities alter evidences of the recent-present, and not in the tyrannized Universe, rather of its present-event of the new universe for itself negative, and towards a gift of neatness granting it recklessness that continues to disperse its entity, its dimension, the locus of it, the distances, the matter to welcome in its be. Vernarth besieges his cogitative discursive, raided in tides of tenements and scales of belatedly changing vibration with all the heroics of following and all the world ideologies of harassing technical acumen with the target in the necropolises that he speaks resurrected, not lying the chimera in the best districts to the leisure to revive, more immortal than a district..., and learned steps with constitutive slogans in "cities succumbed, without blemish..., with eternity", connoting after all transfer abolished, in the present infinity between two units of mortal rank, the Carrier and Vernarth, Vernarth and Heidegger, but here the last one bringing the closest radiogram between the herd and eternity with a significant dilemma (End and chaos) and eternity (creation), in the limbo-purgation ratio, as source and potion. The generality of success and affinity in Heidegger's dialectic, a moment signs his reincarnation in the raving of finite eternity, moving away from Verthian ontological and metaphysical reasoning. He magnetically juxtaposed the Universe, bordering on restless ambitions, such a substance of perpetual equanimity towards the unworthy survivor of Vernarthian theories. So far no resemblance that compares to whoever wants it or not is part of any estimate or conjecture sheet of a complex Duoverse, but rather dreaming as an active or vague star without anything or anyone knowing that it springs from it or that, abstracting from the nullity of a nihilistic kosmous of itself in the Necropolis of Hellenika. Within the emerging frontis of a progeny, there are ranges derived towards the first to form rows composed of shelters of the Giant Camels that from Jerusalem escorted them with their planting consciences to Ein Karem, then returning to Gethsemane to end up in the port of Jaffa. Originally arranged by the children of Israel and bastions; Vernarth, Saint John the Apostle, Eurydice, Raeder, and Petrobus with the animality, Etréstles, and Kanti, to finally cite King David and his velvety phylactery addressed to his edicule before they departed for Jaffa, to return west to Patmos. Of this primogeniture, the legatee is Vernarth, being presented as co-first-born by abnegating his portion to Saint John the Apostle for fiduciary assets for the benefit of a third party for both and granting the patriarchal reinstatement to each of his inheritances, the purpose being expedited in liberation from the world that sheltered them inauthentically in the midst of ascending ancestors. This prerogative will be decisive in defining the dimension of the Duoverse and One-Dimensional Beams, since a brotherhood of worldliness, nascent and simultaneous, will diverge them in the beams that support the universe, and from this, they will be transferred to the vision of Vréfos- (child-man) , Child-Cherub, for the purpose of specifying the Universe-Duoverse physically composed of four areas of consistency. Time, Being, Divinity and the Four Wings of the Cherub, as a concept of biodiversity in Lepidoptera, Bumblebees, Bees, Wasps, and Fireflies so that these tetra-winged animal entities cause warnings and impositions on the cardinals poles of its primogeniture, being born from chaos, until now as Duoverse constituting the alpha Vréfos, nascent of the Animalia and "Andres" intermediate perspectives in the heights that guide the material essences of the distributive physics and spiritual and imperishable elemental. The ineffable matter, the stars will prostrate themselves before each pause of advent and herds that carry Secundum Dictus Vivere, in pursuit of a gnoseological doctrine made a pledge of servile an instant rescinding in another, for the study of the sense of conceiving itself in diligent part of a new orb In the dividing lines of the unknown and the repelled nothingness, suspecting himself of a living arterial vile in the skeptical nothingness. We tend two of non-existence that ratifies it, or perhaps of a twin-univiteline Duoverse and of the chaos of non-fertilized nature..., rather empowered towards the first fiduciary by the jurisprudence of the district of the unattachable Messiah. Allow yourself thus, before this premise of history, to continue and be part of an establishing whole looking for Hashem in an unknown world and Kosmous too..., more so swaying before the appearance that sustains you, as cardinal knowledge of values and immobile Certainty. The centric lineage hypothesis will define the blood lineage, unifying the Duoverse.
Pealim Abba
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2018
because the Turks are still
the only barbers who use
a straight razor to complete
a canvas, and they respect
donning  a beard...
and as i  spread the word of
mouth, i'll say to him:
you know someone mistook
for a komtur at the airport
paying a compliment on your skill?
yeah, was buying a cup of
coffee after a breakfast
of a double Jameson's
             and we striked a conversation
and all I could hear
was relived to the sound
of snip snip snip, snippety
snip snip shimmy...
the sole Ottoman higher tier
of culture that overshadows
greek thought...
ottoman barbers
        overshadow greek thinkers;
and what a grand name,
modern greek, id est Byzantine...
with no one notable
to make a mark on the global stage...
fame as a noumenon..
fractures of delay...
       no one knows why people
still remember Kant...
oh, wait, is that because Hegel
didn't actually propose the
thesis / antithesis dynamic?
            communism founded
upon Kant, rather than the thief
Hegel might have made more sense...
before suggesting a Hegelian
dialectic,  i'd make you
take to reading Kant,
   since the original, within the confines
of the critique,
does not brush god aside
      as non-existent and therefore
ontologically "self-" explanatory...
god or no god, vector or no vector,
end coordinate or any coordinates
to begin with...
   Hegel is a thief
        while Kant retains something
cold, the role of puppeteer...
a shadow...
               the existence or non-
does not impede on the complete
ontology of either experience or
analysis...
                  a priori ontology
has no a posteriori god,
in the same way that
     an a priori god has no a posteriori
ontology...
       unless a genesis-exodus
dynamic akin to space-time
    conundrum is scened to encompass
a non-theo-ontological rite of:
the passage of a passing riddle...
                       cul de sac
hall of mirrors, baboon
opening coconuts by smashing its head
against the crust...
   a god, an ontology,
with and only with a brain
in a pickle jar obsevasion
      of quasi-solipsism simulated,
id est: a- priori: without a prior to...
whatever the answer is...
Ottoman barbers can compete with
Athenian thinkers.
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2020
i wanted to have a bonfire over a week ago...
since the recycling centres are still
closed...
          but no... a neighbour of mine...
had about four each night...
     the english herr - angielski panicz -
didn't mind...
      but when i was about to burn some
evergreen... and as evergreen burns...
when it's still retaining some of its moisture...
it would burn... with a white smoke...
some other neighbour would make
a complaint: are you having a bonfire?
but my husband has asthma...
i own a garden... but i'm somehow...
by law... able to burn garden ****... in it...
once upon a time: but now?
at any given hour...
mother runs up to me... but this other
nieghbour has his washing on the line...
the washing would be infused with...
pine scent?
           but it wasn't about the washing
drying on the line...
the pet peeve project of england:
look toward h'america!
england "somehow" failed...
            two h'americas if not three:
a new breed of punctuation...
there were always the two europes...
   the germans were pushed from
the lands that... they once occupied...
pushed across by the slavs...
who in turn were: funneled by
either the turks, the huns or the mongols...
yes... it's a pretty picture... england...
esp. in the grand vicinity of
the A406 ring road around London...
because anything that teases
the M25...
        over a week-ago....
i wanted to stand before the altar of fire
and say a thing or two with:
the iblis of the quran...
the god of the old testament...
how i made of clay...
am so akin to the spirit without form
of the fire: i - clay - the majority
poker form of water:
i need to breathe... a fire needs to breathe...
i happened to read some rumi
with a milder than usual hangover...
usually an appreciation for some
late in his oeuvre Rembrandt helps likewise...
no... it had to be rumi...
     i come as a rummaging odour...
i'll just throw two or three contending
terms...
the shahada... the testimony -
  tawhid: yes... the H is a surd / apostrophe...
   which could make a hebrew blush...
given a trinity emerges...
    ' י ' ו
               the apostrophe for...
where you'd find the vowel catcher:
the first: the urn of sighs and inquiry (ה)
   and the second: the urn of laughter (ה)...

what is the boasting of:
    la ilaha illallah - the dog term for god
in the language of the maltese is: allah...
again: all?     aaaah... is sigh...
and what of... yalla imshi? camel jockeys
and... the saudi crown... washed in...
because yugoslavia is not... bound
to some ******* translation of yemen...
perhaps not the croat translation...
that mess of... the turks receding...

it really is a "thing" between me and
the english: rich-pants:
h'america: the hope! the beacon!
lucky for some they speak english...
pockets of spanish...
hopes for fwench: but not really...
and the *****-volk don't get out
as much... there's no need to know
whether there's a diaspora hive ment.
in their midst...

       i like slurring... probably as much
as i like jazz...
          oh... i couldn't have a bonfire...
because of someone's asthma...
again: i'm not superstitous but...
when a strong independent woman:
such as my mother...
has a nervous breakdown...
because... i showcased my displeasure
as some variation of an omnipotent
child-god...
no... if... the last leg standing
'ebrews could have countless...
and this... mediator "jinn" can have
four nights in a row...
and there are no complaints...
no one is suffocating...
    well... petty can sooner or later
become an avalanche...

         how do surds work?
in english pretty **** well...
you could technically erase the letter H
from the alphabet...
   say... i own a 'atchet...
      but not when coupled to an S or a C...
sheer: yeah... the "invisible" caron
covering over the S...
   cheap ****: and so above the C...
            closer: szkoda: closer: czekam -
      shame in the vein of: casually: oh well...
and: i'm waiting...
if the pronoun is to be invested into
the word: then in the past participle:
czekałem (i waited - "as" a man)
   czekałam (i waited - "as" a woman)...
     chec-chec-w'ah-w'ah...
gifts of the trade: smithy to the words...
shame the tower and the tongue
do not count for the love of 7...
but... these two already have... profit for
the right sort of narrative...

gender neutral pronouns...
how about the already available:
gender neutral nouns -
no one would call a sun feminine...
no one would call a moon: masculine...
gender neutral pronouns
in a language where:
the nouns are gender neutral!
that mighty oblong IT referential
to almost anything...
including the thinking "res" of man
that being the id -
   and the need to fake... the anaesthetic...
for a psychiatric inquiry...
to sedate a man while keeping
him awake... like a zombie...
   like less than a zombie...
            like a ghost: character in one's
spectacle of the third person...

         surds elsewhere?
           eh... raj butter: dhal... d'aal... or
the macron above the a: to elongate...
      in-valid contra:
   ynvalid contra... welsh... akin to
  the iota in: bid... well... byd...
                           buddy: is no -ee- is he?
he is...
                  inṽalid...
                        i said it three times to summon
st. peter and the cockrel and the morning
of denials...
    someone was choking on a pebble...
someone was the future saint stephen
getting drunk from nibbling on a bud of rose...
if the letters are not dancing...
then... i too: no... then i must be sitting down...

   gnome! 'nome!
                      a gnostic reading... a 'nostic reading!
new rules... the goal-posts move...
medicine and the art of: DiaGnoStiCS!

the hebrews teach only rule for
concerning oneself with god:
the islamic variation you rarely hear:
the taqwa - the fear of god...
which comes hard... to come by...
life requires a dear-almost-forgotten...
audacity to claim its... cherries and prunes...

newly converted proselytes...
        would be asked to cite the tawhid...
but never be allowed the comprehension
of the taqwa...
           one is never... truly...
allowed to be obedient to but one master...
which is probably why...
to grace the ordeals of many...
drunk on love while retaining
the sort-of rubric concerns of sober people...
drunk on the liquid that was
used to disinfect surgical tools...
      etc. etc.
                        
                what good of me: worth of anything:
is that sober regurgitating machine:
clog in the pick-me-up of / for:
the sacred truth of the media...
at least when the church was concerned...
i would be this...
miasma: ushered into a pre-sumptous
hades of sorts:

           in england: there's that vain hope
that... somehow...
that scene... where...
john adams (paul giamatti)...
meets king george III (tom hollander)...
i too whim at: and blink and winkle...
at the idea of a haircut...
and a retained scalp...
        a burning of the beard
and the theatre of the guillotine...
the glass-eyes of a mad king
and the: furore of the upcoming
project to come!
that what was to become...
h'america...
what not what became of england...
and what not...
the old tired breed of systems...

according to rumi: *****-whipped-***-cream-pie
surfer: the statement is universally
afghan:
   man is the created...
woman is the creative...
bless the mongols, the mongrels...
the seals, the apache, the confiscated
budgerigars... the mangos...
the willow trees of queen victoria's
periods as a widow...
the crazed slumbering spiders...
catch a constellation of stars along
with the cobweb nothingness
of the most: easily... agitated stars
in transit in the body of bothersome flies...
the god of gods and son:
who is better known as...
either the prince of leeches /
mosquitos...
                   hybrid effort...
i drink his if he drinks mine...
        the blood the blood!
            
flies: 'ere brown blood...
           almost mythological to have
to digest...
            the throne stands... empty...
          and... once more...
              the neck: upon which...
a crown should rest...
is... plucked...
but plucked... with no word of envy:
as...
      headless...
that the throne... stands... empty...
      and who is... to... bypass the gravity
of the upkeep of grafitti jargon:
to... "master the wave(s)" as... it were?
some... poor slavic shmuck from
a former satellite affair
of the soviet... empire?
     no no... to perceive!
is to not! project!
            fickle heart of woman
and a young man...
we are not to be eased with phonetic
miracles of mere... 'ebrew...
before long...
the arab: our golden goose...
our milk and honey and black gold
and yacht affair...
but what of... the... aldous huxley
of... beijing... the... slaughter
of all religion and of virtue and of vice!
the freed new land
of ethical inhibitions... castrated!
these new land of:
frankenstein's galore!
    oh the joy of...
           inter-racial biases and inter-species
furore!
where one frankenstein is left...
gasping for air: a new breeding-groom
is left waiting to rekindle...
the pax... that science be...
freed from the moths of history
of ancient greece and rome...
squinty-eyed... lemon ******* furore!
of... hardly a buddha training:
yin- the divine sparkle...
yang- the devilish inhibitor...

               the western way:
to better man by interracial breeding...
one should hope to mind...
the slur... skin-head...
between the african and the european:
mind you... what of the eskimos?
the japanese?
never mind...
the skin-head... and the... afro-"tinge"?
what about the raj: the subcontinent...
the... copper-necks?!
what of... the skin-heads...
and... the arab and sub-arab...
the indian cumin and coriander folk...
the copper-necks?
  must i?
   oh but i must...
       if the whites are the skin... heads...
if the whites are... hautköpfe...
then there's a: in-between to distinguish
black from white...  "..." and nanny "..."...
dumbo surds...
      kupferhälse...
                         isn't it... therefore...
somehow... fair?
  the zoo of ethnicity vocabulary:
afro-saxons... twiglet-fringe...
                  my best chase: doberman bark...
as ever... when the there's a reality
of the ubermensch retired in berlin:
active in beijing beside...
the fear of the theory...
the reality... god only knows...
draws... a ******* blancket!
     so, thus... frankenstein can have...
his... warewolf and octopus bride of
8 known vaginas...
and 10 more unknown unknowns...
because... Dr. Rumsfeld is...
too quick to point out...
any other: known knowns...
or... knowy known knowns...
or... unknowy knowy know: knead: dough...
oops savvy... born from piling
up missing link nukes to...
the bread that was born from
stockpiles of rubble from iraq...
dr. know-know: and as of: "now"...
                                   oh... oops: unknowingly:
no: and know oh knowy: gnomes...

if we're working from anything
it's "us" working from...
- if the greatest trick the devil ever pulled
was to convince the world he didn't exist... -

<'paul / lack>
       h'american racial slur for someone
of a western slavic ethnicity -
target practice for not being russian...
actually, though... phonetically...
polak - polska - polski - polka
    the italian gringos love the term...
like they still owned latin
and greece and... most importantly...
the libido governing...
            carthage...
      it's... parfâité complétant...
                           complétą... mind... the -nt
in fwench?
                the h'american "racial" slur...
you speak the most pristine
single word identifier:
not paul... not pole...
but ******...
     which i now truly known: what it is derived
from... king john's nickname...
of the angevin quest to keep most of
france...
  the nicked: 'lackland'...
        
   well... if the devil was so generous...
as to... do the devil's work...
then god... must have pulled a "similar" trick...
the greatest trick that god ever pulled
was to convince the people that the world...
didn't exist...
the fate of all science before
the altar of promise of faith...
which... the promises of doubt and science
ever ushered in...

who would want to invest in a life...
in a life in a fake...
a forgary of a world...
skinheads and the coppernecks...
i like racial-slurs...
              it's what keeps civilised
topics bound to the tattoo of chin-up
and knuckle...
nothing: pacified-aggresive...
*****-squint / squirt...
      i don't even know what...
shrimp-****...
curly-brains...
    candian-goose...
ice-c­ream ***** soda and blessed:
the ever-green of wisteria and
tokyo and toronto?
        
           niqab foreskins?
school 'em! ******* kippahs?!
          i love the racial slurs...
because: no sooner than...
well... to the heavens! we "glide"...
surf... chances of seeing a glaring
naked eye picture from jupiter?

  the greatest trick the devil ever pulled...
the greatest trick a (solipsistc) god ever pulled was...
this world was a forgery...
and that all the evil in this world was:
ontologically sound: bullet-proof!
it was our own fault!
     we were... the only monkey
with... ambitions to investigate the dodo projection!

i feel the absence of the polar opposite...
in that either a god...
or devil... ***** itself into a duality
of supreme kim jungian frown oohn..

best love ever spawned...
watching the grass grow tall...
taller than one's capacity to envision
a knee-height... with or no prior to:
kneeling at the altar;

     the greatest trick... he didn't exist...
     the greatest trick... this world was a fake...
david mitchell Jun 2020
flaunting verbiage,
with a monkish tint,
hungry and spent.
a mild breath scent, emanating herb and taciturnity.
trundling forthward, draped in a certain verdancy,
certainly burdened with this flirtatiously unhinged uncertainty.
no longer careening, bundling kindling,
suffering kinship, indexing my woolgathering,
to begin the inner mending, expenditure now dwindling.
ontologically building, a great garden in sentience, ascending,
extentless, heaven, now, then, ever present.
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2018
can a priori propositions
                      pre- or pro-          requisite
       a confined
   entity of
     a posteriori
                presuppositions?
just watched
a "boxing match"
     with jordan peterson
sparring with
         matt dillahunty...
    and i'm...
                    sort of: "bothered"...
a priori would imply
the prefix: pre-,
            rather than pro-....
            while a posteriori would
imply the prefix: pro-,
       rather than pre-....
          hence the confusing
state of affairs of: to propose -
versus -
                           to suppose...
divergent timing -
              to have made one's writing
axiomatic...
            or rather:
                      maxim **** -
****!
     custard pie's worth of
the cranium sponge that is the brain...
how can something...
   ah!
            to will it onto others!
hence the a priori proposition...
and the a posteriori presupposition....
i'm schizoid-bilingual... what?!
it would make sense
to have, or at least embody
a priori: presuppositions...
         given that a- priori
would leave you ontologically intact
with propositions, i.e.: a-:
                        without a prior to...
so what the ****, are maxims
investing in...
            can't exactly grip a "present"
with them...
given the a priori propositions
   & a posteriori presuppositions
scenario of the sparring contest
i'm referring to...
              then the next tier:
   if there is such a "thing"
as articifial intelligence...
       then there is analytical &
                   synthetic counterpaarts...
     guess we'll have to adapt to
playing the synthetic intelligence role
now...
             given that the artificial
"thing"...
                      requires more
analysis, than those of us with
    ensuring a synthetic transition
              occurs have to plough across
                               the digital mind-field.
sorry... what are maxims
exactly?
          is this where we call
believers conservatives...
                        and soothsayers:
regurgitators of "truths"
                                             the liberals?
oh! ****!
   pre-suppositions,
        that's not exactly akin to
pre-positions?
   but isn't a supposition already a pre-
example?
         soup contra supper...
       did i miss
          the inter-mediating prepositions?

they're already there!
         in variant grammatical
categorisation...
                           e.g. the point...
       albeit that's a definite article
in italics...
                    it's also a preposition...
huh?
                 ein da!
                            pre through to pro:
     there!
                               where?
               so much for the subsequent
sein...
              
     can a supposition have
    a pre-suppositional
form?
   akin to a proposition, a maxim:
having a form that's: truth?

what the hell
                     is a presumption then?!
or... pre-cognition?
        bog standard adjective
circus...
                   like sharpening
a knife: although reduced
to stabbing someone with
                                  a blunt object...

so:

                            propositions,
               prepositions,
  presuppositions
  and suppositions that
  fold back into "pro"positions...

back and forth...
                   all those in favour
of the aye motion say aye:       93...
  and all those in favour
      of the nay motion say nay: 107...

a good day's offering:
  that much, i've already gathered.
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2019
Plato's blocked toilet:

well... "we" already know
what Plato's view
on reincarnation was...

well...
since "we" do...
let us reiterate...

      if what you describe
is a trans-"woman"...

then i am a...
                 meta-"man"...

no... to having allowed
the omni-presence of
literacy was a bad,
bad idea...

     all poetics died:
hence metaphor,
hence nuance...

some people were
not Olympic athletes:
but sure as ****
they understood
verbs:

inaudible "pronoun":
¬"i" build...
cushion...
            sacrifice...
upon:
altar of predominance

democracy,
the mob,
the implosive
democracy
being born from...
what was
suggested as:
righteous:
upon the dictum
of export...

i: in hive:
breeeeeeeeeeeeeed...

what happens
when democracy
implodes?
what happens
when democracy
doesn't explode...

ancient Athens
didn't treat
democracy as
an, idea, worth,
exporting...

but modern man
of the ruling elite...

democracy is
ontologically
an implosion...
not an
explosion...

               but...
who am i?!

if not a mere...
pleb?


no... if i were a pawn...
i'd be given the court
of a board of chess...

but i am...
"personnae hubris"...
        i the premature
youth:
    come to grieve
the come elders
on the altar of mort...

i...
           with a sore
knot of the knee
in the expression
of the curb...

   pavimento via!

          omne ****
                     ut eius ars...

but "we" know of
what has become apparent
in "us"...
Plato's brain-drain
of a "think outside the box"
in sole-grammar:
contra square fabric
has become:

the pleb the king
thrice the tyrant
with the parliament
of the mob...

        pampendered -
  pamper - pamper'deering
you sir your sir's
you sirs' 'ere:

   mobs and croissants...

        a trans-
               ...
      i'm: meta-man...

you know what Plato
thought about
reincarnation?

          ah...
biology is no physics:
i.e. has not guiding
vector in
alpha- terms of:

the Greek orientation...

if trans-woman...
ergo: meta-man...

               you don't want
to know about a gentle
ancient Athenian
aristocrat...

                  the "rest":
i.e. so-called "reality"?

        god of the gaps?

well... what isn't
a count of matchsticks
in "reviving" Latin:

||||||||||||||||||?

gaps? in what?

A, Λ,
                      the "argument"
concerning the "god"
of the gaps?

so...
                    AΛ -
spawned Θ spawned: V
and... eh'yeh...
                           blockage...

i see nothing but
bowing before
a lost devil
upon the altar of man's
technological advancement
plateau.
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2018
just a title...
   and...
      daft punk's end of (the) line
song...

         listening on some of the
tech. savvy intellectuals...

   i find myself starting to
      mimic a 2nd "nth" entity...

namely myself...
bypassing the soft tissue,
and gaining root
to excavate... bones.

the imagining of electric
conductivity of the body,
bypassing tendons...

      oyster-implant!

             how does a thing
so tender...
   be allowed to occupy
such a hard exemple of,
what could only
be considered a nest?

               zeno?!
ah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!
fast runner achilles
could never solve
the question
                    of a larynx,
                  "parody" of the insect
with an oyster lodged
into an exoskeleton...

                   the sense of bones...
bypasses death,
  with what's left, marginally intact...
or a endoskeletal sturcture
  making the dive, or gulp,
into fathoming the oyster parody
(with a touch of lemon juice,
and a slight grating of raw
                                       garlic)...

says the body with
an outer-feature of
                 degenerate potential...

with such unfathomability...
looking at a dead "object"...
          i will be that, one day or another...
ha!
        well **** me...
   not that there's anything ontologically
pressing to achieve a blinded motivational
tact(ic)....
guess a "bychance"
         case of ordering the ch'eep
           side order....

hauz-vine!
       ja!
                            wünderbar!
(bra bra, not barred?

                 i too thought of
fiddling with the extend U
via an umlaut (siamese pa-ra-b'oh-l'ah
                vs. [p]arabolah...
                  tuct surd p
given the subsequent punctuation
      of intact syllable-constructs...
           also V voo...
                    no, not swoon...
                            va va fume!)

telling a bad joke akin
to stripping to encompass
           walking stark naked
by
  (irons, jeremy accent):
    the shallow side of the dream-pool...

but only in english,
YHWH...
        that vowel catcher and vowel
keeper to
invoke a basis for laughter...

        as the last, resort to
        escape the confines of sanity,
and call it: society.
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2022
we've reached that sort of ripe old age of having
past relationship regrets:
personally? i love them... i keep them a secret...
well... to a "listening" audience i bare all:
swinging on the moon ****-naked
like a pig before the slaughter...
                 i still don't know why women at work
treat me like either a priest or an advocate:
the stories i heard: drinking problems, drug problems,
past-exes problems: dating boys who would
have drinking and drug problems who would
drain them of their money: blackmail them etc. etc.,
i'm sitting there and? no edge...
try telling your life story to a woman telling you hers...
ha ha... as if...
i don't know why the sudden: what would you call
it? availability? transparency?
   i have a rubber ear: it stretches... or as the fellow saying
goes: in one ear out the other...
just today i was bothered...
well it was either catching the 499 bus to Gallows' Corner
Halfords and getting the broken szprycha
spoke: of the front wheel... it snapped before i was
gearing up to a cycle routine... lucky me...
from the heat... so it was either me catching the 499 bus...
oh man... the wait... and no pubs along the way...
**** it... 103 to Romford and then the 86 to Chadwell Heath...
first to Halfords... sure... we can sort this out...
the problem is this that and the other...
but i only replaced pierced tyres... the mechanic will be
back at the end of August...
great for him: not so great for me...
this was bound to happen... auxiliary plan...
Cycle King... an independent bicycle store...
i walk in: see this problem? fixable? yep... give me your details...
it will be done by Friday... how much?
20 squid... brilliant... thank you ever so much...
then onto the Eva Hart pub
for a pint of Guinness... you seriously can only drink
Guinness in a pint sized glass from a keg...
no Guinness bottled no Guinness canned...
so i's sit down at a random table able...
have a random conversation... three guys breaking *****:
literally... joking about this,
talking seriously about that...
               ol' Ernest wrote this brilliant short-story
compilation: men without women...
and it's true! men reciprocate they talk backwards
and forwards...
men "talking" with women? it's a ******* cul de sac
one way street... women talk: men listen...
if it wasn't for the ******* i'd be, most probably,
interested in keeping pigeons or collecting stamps...
well no: i wouldn't go as far as creating toy train sets...
let's not get too excited...
we talked about the weather, work, working outside
in this current heat... the three women at a table next
to us... age restrictions on attractiveness... blah blah...
me looking like someone who ought to be in a band...
me telling him: well... i used to play guitar...
but i could never find a drummer...
(lie - there was Tobey from Switzerland at Edinburgh,
but he was already in a band,
lucky me for having a jam session with a drummer)
i found a bassist once... we recorded a demo tape...
just ******* around...
point being: i tried that scam of a website last night...
i was BLITZED out of my already numb-skull...
3 messages in and i knew i made a mistake...
after the 3 message?
                       PAY UP: THIRSTY BOY...
thank god i set up a fake john pickwick account
on aol.com...
                                  a nice pretty blonde little number...
the scam was quick to pick up...
oh ****... what am i doing here?
                    did someone spike my whiskey sharpshooter
with some acid?
i tell her: i'm going to have to delete this account...
why why why?!
listen... i've been to a few brothels in my time...
i'm not into A.I. anti-psychological ***...
                i'm not that thirsty: mind you, i am...
but i'm thirsty for some watermelon sorbet...
  i'd love a watermelon sorbet...
or some raspberry kefir...
                        oh girl: i'm dying for some raspberry kefir...
mind you this scam website promising a pool
of single mums and unfaithful wives is struggling...
why? the same girls on this website have shifted
to attention-******* on twitter...
i was sort of invested in the narrative for that website...
but? 180 characters? that's all?
sure... if you're writing in hieroglyphics...
or writing Mandarin - well: both are hieroglyphics...
anyway...
i seriously need to find a different brothel...
after that stunt my Khedija:
she promises you a date outside the brothel...
you start making plans... book a hotel...
go to the cinema... get some food... **** all night...
and then? she says... oh no no...
so? you go back to the same brothel and have
a ******* with her competition...
normal...
               she stops texting you on Wattsapp...
she probably blocked you blah blah...
hell: i gave up the best *** in my life for? a slap in the face...
she didn't: but she did: she didn't: but she did...
don't make promises you can't keep...
we'll see... i've already been paid and paid off my debt...
so i have spare squids...
she'll either entertain me or she won't my presence:
how far can you go on ******* around with
a ******* without a ******:
slurping on her and giving her the shivers of an ******?
apparently... this other one prior
said out-loud: ooh... this has only happened to me
once before...
so? must be hard to give a ******* an ******...
boasting?! boasting?!
   does anyone think slobbering on a ****...
knowing full well that just 10 minutes prior some Irish
nag was ******* the same **** is supposed
to give me ego-tripping megalomania?!
seriously?!
          this is the ******* crustaceans kingdom of ***...
believe me: it probably sounds nice...
but... this is crab-bucket type of ***...
it's a harem within a harem...
                     it's a revisit to the 1960s "liberation front"
of that great stink of culture...
someone seriously has to sink to his lowest
to revive any self-awareness for everyone else...
me? i think i'm doing just that...
            i don't have a jealous heart...
silly me: for not having a jealous heart...
women love jealous men...
women abhor selfless men...
women love jealous men...
ergo? that white elephant of the the demiurge
in the minds of Semites...
no wonder women adore the sadism they're implored
to succumb to:
while the sheikhs walk in pure white... breezy...
almost linen material: the women are shackled
to BLACK BLACK NIQABS...
fair enough... as long as you don't interfere with my
life: you do you... i'll do me...

it's funny though, how certain things (denoted by nouns) -
mind you: every thing is denoted by a noun:
you can hardly call a stone: stoneless
some made-up adjective...
although: there's the dark and there's darkness...
there's light and lightness...
****... stoney... something is stoney -
it has the credibility of being associated with stones
but isn't a stone...
two words: szprycha: a vamp of a woman...
laska - girl next door beauty...
        laska? walking-stick... but... in ****** ****...
it can refer to a woman...
szprycha, though? oh: that's another level of vamp...

why i don't approach women?
they're unapproachable...
i rather talk ******* with a few random guys:
we have more in common...
it's casual convo.
                 there are no pressures:
in scenarios that don't allow for pressures to exist:
over a pint...
there's no: my eggs are frozen,
i have household chores... my father has dementia...
i have no one to care for him...
i'm a single mum... i need someone to raise
my kiddy...
                    ******* endless lists of potential
headaches... i don't need that!
why? who am i? Atlas or something?!
it's a one way street with women:
they don't care about me...
why even bother entertaining their company?
i'm not even bitter: as much as i love *******:
eating out a prostitutes ******:
i'm not really interested in her not being
interested in my own toils...
i can entertain hers: but if she can't entertain mine?
i better internalise myself:
compartmentalise myself to suit a better: efficient me...
let people see what they want / are expected
to see... and hide what i alone want to see...

i'm not that thirsty...
              while i was riding the bus with my wonky wheel
i was listening to the agony of...
some degenerate byproduct...
YOU ******* WANT DARWINISM?!
YOU ******* WILL GET DARWINISM, PROPER!
what was i listening to?
some genetic byproduct of:
a ****** irresponsibility...
she was screaming in agony in her wheelchair...
i want food! i want food!
oh... such sweetness to that agony...
because it was so innocently mastered...

you're telling me, that Darwinism is actually true?
*******!
if Darwinism was true: ontologically:
then then Nazis would have won the second world war...
sorry... the spider kills the fly...
there's a hierarchy that only a humane aspect
of hell that was crucified disrupts...
i ought to be in charge of a harem...
with my physical dimensions i ought to:
but no... there's nature, there are the elements and there's
human intellect...
the smart nor the fittest reproduce...
the idiots do...
        the most vulnerable do...
                       such sweet song: born from
****** incompetence... a child of suffering...
                   i listened: and i listened deep...
                                    hmm... pain... very primitive...
agile in the mind of a ******...
         Pontius Pilate walked past hardly a ghost...
we shook hands and agreed...
                  of the noble man there remains only a history:
there's no present happening to contribute
to the eventuality of stating events...
me? i'm to be made responsible for the ****** malpractices of
people? that there's a time limit?
people! EASE OUR BURDENS!
but do they listen? of course not!
          
    i know i have passed my limits...
she chose to pet snakes and tarantulas and wed
herself to the next disposable male every Spring...
me? i chose to try to attract the attention
of foxes and wasps...
and keep myself wedded to her in memory...
we're at that ripe old age of having lost
our imagination and salvaging ourselves
in a unison toward the altar of memory...
i don't want to daydream:
i don't want to imagine what's already required
before my eyes...
i have no need to dream...

the night compared to day is already
a worthwhile "dream" that i can live in an expand
my senses on.

— The End —