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"orthography" poems
/          the aesthete...                              and the athlete, i.e.                the "sophist",                      and the "philosopher"? ah... phonetics, rather linguistics: former: as-feet... but the latter? ancient greek in french: a(h)'f'lé'té. people should, really introduce a chemistry-style subscript for surds, most notably H, hay'chch, when dealing with such deviations from classicaly philosophy metaphysical concerns, and modern, orthography: this, the, now, types of "philosophical" inquiries: and i mean that as "philosophical": because i actualy mean... the favours of pedantry akin to being entertained by the intricacies of Versailles; you'd get more good-luck wishes in the form of horse-shoes hanging over your door in a small village in the ***** of gascony.
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Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 11:00 AM UTC
a simple posit question
painting when being bilingual, the naked phonetics of the english alphabet, and the diacritics on the polish one, for example -sh- of the former and -sz- of the latter, but the painting is still entitled: trying to capture what was being said without lip-reading but by optics encoding the sounds, so that someone bilingual might decipher; and yes, dependent of aesthetics / orthography the -rz- versus the ż. azog szak gaum'dasz! blog kruto, goniś... gunwondersmargen'ś. azog mor'rzyrljisz? blog golumdo, sza zu lisz sza za duh. azog jam dysz! *** da kurz nak krza rzuk; arz ga bejark gundabadul, mar kam narm karszrz. mulgaj! a'naj! ursdraj! tu pu nam - ah me c!
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Mar 21, 2016
Mar 21, 2016 at 10:03 PM UTC
phonetic painting of extended bilingualism
1147 After a hundred years Nobody knows the Place Agony that enacted there Motionless as Peace Weeds triumphant ranged Strangers strolled and spelled At the lone Orthography Of the Elder Dead Winds of Summer Fields Recollect the way— Instinct picking up the Key Dropped by memory—
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2.6k
After a hundred years
.ah here comes england with its eccentricities, ah hier kommt polen mit seine christentum: where anyone can be a messiah, as stressed by the byzantines. my first love was the love of the english grey, (in honesty mentioned it was the double-decker first, since i fancied myself the great bus-driver of the no. 5 bus back home) earl grey came and said: ‘i can’t look at these skies without sunglasses!’ and so it was, mid-autumn with sunglasses at loss the sun-worshiper enter the moon idiot, looking for accents, looking for anything. in england they called him das deutsche - for reasons believable enough; the luftwaffe eagerly anticipating the tunnelling centipede that is the euro-star train-tunnel: the panzers are rolling in! the panzers are rolling in! strange he never minded the coal-miners as useful as minded by edvard gierek von silesia - to the dispute of silesians not ex-patriated to saxony (oh wait... texan boy doesn't sound as nationalistic as minnesota boy?). ooh pokey poo... writing about germany became so **** so recently, i forget that i started it: here’s to the english language’s chirality of s and z, actually being superimposable: from words in the socratic sense as encoded by plato i don't get a bunch of ideas... virtue does not make me ponder it with meaning or definition, i only see the kabbalistic sensibility of anti-alphabetical sequencing as v i                   r               t               u          e... otherwise              e      i    u             r         t         v; almost sounds like s.t.d.
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Nov 7, 2015
Nov 7, 2015 at 6:33 AM UTC
Naked Orthography
.ah here comes england with its eccentricities, ah hier kommt polen mit seine christentum: where anyone can be a messiah, as stressed by the byzantines. my first love was the love of the english grey, (in honesty mentioned it was the double-decker first, since i fancied myself the great bus-driver of the no. 5 bus back home) earl grey came and said: ‘i can’t look at these skies without sunglasses!’ and so it was, mid-autumn with sunglasses at loss the sun-worshiper enter the moon idiot, looking for accents, looking for anything. in england they called him das deutsche - for reasons believable enough; the luftwaffe eagerly anticipating the tunnelling centipede that is the euro-star train-tunnel: the panzers are rolling in! the panzers are rolling in! strange he never minded the coal-miners as useful as minded by edvard gierek von silesia - to the dispute of silesians not ex-patriated to saxony (oh wait... texan boy doesn't sound as nationalistic as minnesota boy?). ooh pokey poo... writing about germany became so **** so recently, i forget that i started it: here’s to the english language’s chirality of s and z, actually being superimposable: from words in the socratic sense as encoded by plato i don't get a bunch of ideas... virtue does not make me ponder it with meaning or definition, i only see the kabbalistic sensibility of anti-alphabetical sequencing as v i                   r               t               u          e... otherwise              e      i    u             r         t         v; almost sounds like s.t.d.
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35
so... it's no longer enough that i learn your language, into a p.s. of conversational etiquette - addressing the confrontational assertion of the existence of orthography, minding your, Germanic, metaphysical ******** and then...    i'm, supposed, to, listen to your average citizen, dictating rules, like some sort of king?! i'll drink a beer, walking past the east ham central mosque... and i'll be like: getting the **** eyes ****** you stare - in reply: you know what? do it... **** it... do it... make me a ******* martyr...      but i'm going to drink this beer, feeding a solidarity of the 7/7 commuters... hence my teasing...        once i'll burn scissors and craft a tattoo on my arm... once i'll put out a cigarette on my left hand's knuckle...    the everyday englishman who "thinks" he's king...       i'm thinking... plum hues to replace mascara... with a ******* fist...              no... private property, is private property...    now i'm gagging for a fist frisking! i'm less trigger happy, and more, european, i.e. knuckles itchy! i want to juggernaut something down... and then start biting into it! any obnoxious englighman, being a **** will satiated my palette. GNASH GNASH GNASH... i want... a chance... to scoop clean... the "riddle" of meaty chicken schnacks of drum-sticks... fiddle fiddle, fiddle me something... i want to engage in a 1, 2, punch & bite something... attempting to relieve itself from physical confrontation, having exhausted its verbal allowance.
0
Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 10:03 PM UTC
pet peeve
so... it's no longer enough that i learn your language, into a p.s. of conversational etiquette - addressing the confrontational assertion of the existence of orthography, minding your, Germanic, metaphysical ******** and then...    i'm, supposed, to, listen to your average citizen, dictating rules, like some sort of king?! i'll drink a beer, walking past the east ham central mosque... and i'll be like: getting the **** eyes ****** you stare - in reply: you know what? do it... **** it... do it... make me a ******* martyr...      but i'm going to drink this beer, feeding a solidarity of the 7/7 commuters... hence my teasing...        once i'll burn scissors and craft a tattoo on my arm... once i'll put out a cigarette on my left hand's knuckle...    the everyday englishman who "thinks" he's king...       i'm thinking... plum hues to replace mascara... with a ******* fist...              no... private property, is private property...    now i'm gagging for a fist frisking! i'm less trigger happy, and more, european, i.e. knuckles itchy! i want to juggernaut something down... and then start biting into it! any obnoxious englighman, being a **** will satiated my palette. GNASH GNASH GNASH... i want... a chance... to scoop clean... the "riddle" of meaty chicken schnacks of drum-sticks... fiddle fiddle, fiddle me something... i want to engage in a 1, 2, punch & bite something... attempting to relieve itself from physical confrontation, having exhausted its verbal allowance.
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57
276 Many a phrase has the English language— I have heard but one— Low as the laughter of the Cricket, Loud, as the Thunder’s Tongue— Murmuring, like old Caspian Choirs, When the Tide’s a’ lull— Saying itself in new infection— Like a Whippoorwill— Breaking in bright Orthography On my simple sleep— Thundering its Prospective— Till I stir, and weep— Not for the Sorrow, done me— But the push of Joy— Say it again, Saxton! Hush—Only to me!
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1.8k
Many a phrase has the English language
the byproduct of the aesthetics of orthography gave us dyslexia (dis-* / negation and                -lexia / lexicon), as if already apparent... because dislexia would not look as pretty; alt. meaning of dyslexia? unease with vocabulary, a trouble finding a personal vocabulary - i already mentioned that letters are vox circa (approximate vocalisation), even i make spelling mistakes at times... given dyslexia not dislexia / disease not dysease. (in the polish vox circa the pronunciation of y is like a baritone or bass, while pronunciation of i is like soprano or mezzo, i could give a kabbalistic anatomisation of the mouth for they are indeed very much aligned... but let's just stick to the opera metaphor).* i trained my œsophagus like a minor roman noble at a banquet, now i can smoke and not take out the **** foley puppet whenever i want on an empty stomach smoking the first cigarette and drinking the first coffee of the morn, ah christianity’s operating grace... let’s categorise every pagan practice as formidable ills, have the reasons for the crucifixion loosely knit with the lamb of god’s wool: that’s two wool threads over my bare chest... because, just because that new testament story is so so tightly knit that you can see the pearly gates with st. peter playing outlaw cowboy’s quick-draw with the keys, from havana (of all places) on earth. poor isaiah, i rather remember you: considering the fact that you were cut in half at the abdomen of all equators. in conclusion? the added diacritic marks on this latin alphabet came due to the barbaric tongue tie on the œ and æ... from these two manifestations we were given é and ó among others, i still think it’s chaotic, chiseled v, otherwise papyrus u and the umlaut.
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Oct 31, 2015
Oct 31, 2015 at 11:02 AM UTC
œsophagus lineage / vox circa
the byproduct of the aesthetics of orthography gave us dyslexia (dis-* / negation and                -lexia / lexicon), as if already apparent... because dislexia would not look as pretty; alt. meaning of dyslexia? unease with vocabulary, a trouble finding a personal vocabulary - i already mentioned that letters are vox circa (approximate vocalisation), even i make spelling mistakes at times... given dyslexia not dislexia / disease not dysease. (in the polish vox circa the pronunciation of y is like a baritone or bass, while pronunciation of i is like soprano or mezzo, i could give a kabbalistic anatomisation of the mouth for they are indeed very much aligned... but let's just stick to the opera metaphor).* i trained my œsophagus like a minor roman noble at a banquet, now i can smoke and not take out the **** foley puppet whenever i want on an empty stomach smoking the first cigarette and drinking the first coffee of the morn, ah christianity’s operating grace... let’s categorise every pagan practice as formidable ills, have the reasons for the crucifixion loosely knit with the lamb of god’s wool: that’s two wool threads over my bare chest... because, just because that new testament story is so so tightly knit that you can see the pearly gates with st. peter playing outlaw cowboy’s quick-draw with the keys, from havana (of all places) on earth. poor isaiah, i rather remember you: considering the fact that you were cut in half at the abdomen of all equators. in conclusion? the added diacritic marks on this latin alphabet came due to the barbaric tongue tie on the œ and æ... from these two manifestations we were given é and ó among others, i still think it’s chaotic, chiseled v, otherwise papyrus u and the umlaut.
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28
only English has disgraced itself, as a language, it didn't learn from it's other Latin orthographers, whether french or german, just didn't learn from them, i mean, English, the language, could have started improving its style, its orthography, adding accents, here and there, improving elocution, it's worth the particulars in harbours, ironically it isn't a universal language, there are no universal instances in using it, there are plenty of particular instance that do require stresses and other such involvements, but the six brothers dreamed up too much technology prior, the Grand Father of the Empire split the cabbage patch between the five brothers: gave much to the American son, much also to the Australian son, much also to the Canadian, the South Africa got a part of Europe from the 1940s, the Caribbean son received a pretty sunset, the English son got ****** in the *** and given what the newspapers are covering i'm really sceptical while only children migrants are welcomed... ********** the tournament of who can shove an ice-cube into a teenagers *** to make **** *********** seem cool? really sceptical while the prime minister only wants children... come, you following-up the hot topics in british journalism? but like i said, the one chance the English language had to improve itself, to succumb to the judgement of the preservation of the Latin via a - z was to add diacritical marks, instead the internet emerged and we simply got an Eaton mess... look how mishandled English is among the young! omni acronym omni short-script,                                               omni dyslexia, lazy lazy buggers... while the Germans are fiercely compounding, Rindfleischetikettierungsueberwachungsau (law delegating beef label monitoring) - now let's do some syllable surgery on it to get a tennis ball bouncing rhythm: rind' fleische' tikettierung' sueber' wachungsau' - or thereabouts in Pomerania - and the French such hark rather than trill Rs and produce excess spelling via tongue ties upon tongue ties (every time i hear it i just hear bubbly blue bubbly blue bue bue and Moulin Rouge cancan) - English is shrapnel, empty pistachio shells in comparison, and yet still the internet proved how ugly things became... *** LOL (e.g.); and yet i'm finding it the most effective language for volume.
0
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 4:37 AM UTC
Rindfleischetikettierungsueberwachungsau
only English has disgraced itself, as a language, it didn't learn from it's other Latin orthographers, whether french or german, just didn't learn from them, i mean, English, the language, could have started improving its style, its orthography, adding accents, here and there, improving elocution, it's worth the particulars in harbours, ironically it isn't a universal language, there are no universal instances in using it, there are plenty of particular instance that do require stresses and other such involvements, but the six brothers dreamed up too much technology prior, the Grand Father of the Empire split the cabbage patch between the five brothers: gave much to the American son, much also to the Australian son, much also to the Canadian, the South Africa got a part of Europe from the 1940s, the Caribbean son received a pretty sunset, the English son got ****** in the *** and given what the newspapers are covering i'm really sceptical while only children migrants are welcomed... ********** the tournament of who can shove an ice-cube into a teenagers *** to make **** *********** seem cool? really sceptical while the prime minister only wants children... come, you following-up the hot topics in british journalism? but like i said, the one chance the English language had to improve itself, to succumb to the judgement of the preservation of the Latin via a - z was to add diacritical marks, instead the internet emerged and we simply got an Eaton mess... look how mishandled English is among the young! omni acronym omni short-script,                                               omni dyslexia, lazy lazy buggers... while the Germans are fiercely compounding, Rindfleischetikettierungsueberwachungsau (law delegating beef label monitoring) - now let's do some syllable surgery on it to get a tennis ball bouncing rhythm: rind' fleische' tikettierung' sueber' wachungsau' - or thereabouts in Pomerania - and the French such hark rather than trill Rs and produce excess spelling via tongue ties upon tongue ties (every time i hear it i just hear bubbly blue bubbly blue bue bue and Moulin Rouge cancan) - English is shrapnel, empty pistachio shells in comparison, and yet still the internet proved how ugly things became... *** LOL (e.g.); and yet i'm finding it the most effective language for volume.
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53
take money out of the equation, and sack all the waiters and return to tribalism, the former statement of non-intellectual socialism, the sort of inherent: in us there is a togetherness, no more service from strangers in the hierarchy of enriching a piece of metal or a wavy rectangle of paper with “necessary” symbolism of authority of the status quo... but that’s not going to happen... the pickpocket picts are no more... the normalising normans glared at the hastings pinnacle and integrated with the saxon women... the saracens became surnames in poland... actually that last one is very true... a branch of my family has the surname saracen. so i’m reading this article and i’m hardly debasing myself, it’s not that i’m referring to sartre’s negation of certain things whether animate and essential or inanimate and existential... in that formula: i deny therefore i am... because i can’t deny my existence... and 2000 years down the line i’ll be pitchfork argument in an atheist’s mouth anyway (nothing is certain in the realm of cognition, hence the cartesian invocation of doubt), it's not like i'm referring to inappropriate pronoun usage... so **** a doodle do... twang the strings on the mandolin... i’m referring to this classical reference of the shy literary figure unable to spark conversation with strangers... god, i really love strangers, and talking to them! why? there is no personal history, there’s no past, there are no reference points... it’s just the moment and nothing else, the perfect anonymity project... not the matrix philosophy (easily invoked because it has a flimsy plot-line and loads of images... just what the doctor ordered for the english speaking masses with a very naked orthography - i.e. if it’s on the internet it’s not “real life...” as is this computer i’m using it’s not even here!) of using the deep web to join the rats and etc.; i love talking to strangers, i can forget myself and enter the realm of discretion about how within randomisation of eggshell, yoke and cockroach there’s also the randomisation of the interactants to balance out the need for a theological unit, god... it’s great... it’s like... it’s like... life. defining the genre of biography proper? never backtrack... always sidetrack... i can’t be bothered living a life with cocktail parties and romps and romantic comedies to look forward to once all the animalism becomes domesticated and a gym-session complaints column in a newspaper.
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Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 7:54 PM UTC
panda suspence
take money out of the equation, and sack all the waiters and return to tribalism, the former statement of non-intellectual socialism, the sort of inherent: in us there is a togetherness, no more service from strangers in the hierarchy of enriching a piece of metal or a wavy rectangle of paper with “necessary” symbolism of authority of the status quo... but that’s not going to happen... the pickpocket picts are no more... the normalising normans glared at the hastings pinnacle and integrated with the saxon women... the saracens became surnames in poland... actually that last one is very true... a branch of my family has the surname saracen. so i’m reading this article and i’m hardly debasing myself, it’s not that i’m referring to sartre’s negation of certain things whether animate and essential or inanimate and existential... in that formula: i deny therefore i am... because i can’t deny my existence... and 2000 years down the line i’ll be pitchfork argument in an atheist’s mouth anyway (nothing is certain in the realm of cognition, hence the cartesian invocation of doubt), it's not like i'm referring to inappropriate pronoun usage... so **** a doodle do... twang the strings on the mandolin... i’m referring to this classical reference of the shy literary figure unable to spark conversation with strangers... god, i really love strangers, and talking to them! why? there is no personal history, there’s no past, there are no reference points... it’s just the moment and nothing else, the perfect anonymity project... not the matrix philosophy (easily invoked because it has a flimsy plot-line and loads of images... just what the doctor ordered for the english speaking masses with a very naked orthography - i.e. if it’s on the internet it’s not “real life...” as is this computer i’m using it’s not even here!) of using the deep web to join the rats and etc.; i love talking to strangers, i can forget myself and enter the realm of discretion about how within randomisation of eggshell, yoke and cockroach there’s also the randomisation of the interactants to balance out the need for a theological unit, god... it’s great... it’s like... it’s like... life. defining the genre of biography proper? never backtrack... always sidetrack... i can’t be bothered living a life with cocktail parties and romps and romantic comedies to look forward to once all the animalism becomes domesticated and a gym-session complaints column in a newspaper.
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35
i wasn't satisfied with the cartesian                                                                  cogito ergo sum...                 it's not that i couldn't stomach it, it was just:               not enough? people claim that maxim to be the source of all subjectivity,           and there's nothing objective about it.       all this modern talk of subject vs. object, i had to employ a θήσαύρύς.       i needed a square... a solomon's star, two squares encompassed against each other, nothing akin to the star of david... i mean solomon's star, of two squares imposed on each other, layered so you get an oκτάγωνον oktágōnon oh **** a macron over an omicron = an omega!                                   oh k'tah goo non...       wait wait... i was going to write something concrete, and yes, it was based on solomon's star...              6 things -      cogito                              sum subjectivity                        objectivity            king david (6)      reflexive                           reflective    thinking = subjectivity = the reflective     thinking = subjectivity = the reflexive       thinking = objectivity = the reflective     thinking = objectivity = the reflexive         king solomon (8)      being = subjectivity = the reflective        being = subjectivity = the reflexive       being = objectivity = the reflective               being = objectivity = the reflexive (alt. given the atheistic scissors of definite / indefinite articles of the / a a reflex, a reflection) what this means is, what's generally thought of as the tetragrammaton, but it's not four letters,     it's the interpolation of the four main faculties, that are now seen as tripling up, or call them: cubed; a lament configuration representation.           thinking is subjective in that it is also reflective   (the narcissus bias)      thinking is subjective in that it is also reflexive      (i need a shave)      thinking is objective in that it is also reflective        (i am ageing)    thinking is objective in that it is also reflexive           (i'll just stop looking into a mirror)... dear apologies for the geometry of the arrangement                               of words, i know you'd love to see a tartan pattern               of interchange, but this **** seems rigid, in the way    that i wrote it... i couldn't find a way to write a b a b                      as stated, it only came out as a a b b,                             or a b c a b c         rather a a b b c c. but do you see what is even more fascinating than numbers?     the arithmetic symbols... arithmetic symbols are very much akin to diacritical symbols...               i write an over-simplification of a concept using =, and then all these conjunctional words pop up!    and yes, in terms of citing heidegger as opposed to         descartes      there's a great disparity between                           being     and i am -                           self-evident,       being = the sum, a total, Σ, while      i am? it's a unitary representation of the total (sum / sigma)     of the possible mode of being -        it's also called ego interference / pronoun inteference              in the conceptualisation of the cascade that's ergo                             into the basin that's dasein. what philosophy call metaphysics?                          linguistics call orthography...                                  what chemists call para- positioning on                      a benzene ring;                                          or what non-chemists call the paranormal.
0
May 5, 2017
May 5, 2017 at 1:31 PM UTC
i needed a square / θήσαύρύς
i wasn't satisfied with the cartesian                                                                  cogito ergo sum...                 it's not that i couldn't stomach it, it was just:               not enough? people claim that maxim to be the source of all subjectivity,           and there's nothing objective about it.       all this modern talk of subject vs. object, i had to employ a θήσαύρύς.       i needed a square... a solomon's star, two squares encompassed against each other, nothing akin to the star of david... i mean solomon's star, of two squares imposed on each other, layered so you get an oκτάγωνον oktágōnon oh **** a macron over an omicron = an omega!                                   oh k'tah goo non...       wait wait... i was going to write something concrete, and yes, it was based on solomon's star...              6 things -      cogito                              sum subjectivity                        objectivity            king david (6)      reflexive                           reflective    thinking = subjectivity = the reflective     thinking = subjectivity = the reflexive       thinking = objectivity = the reflective     thinking = objectivity = the reflexive         king solomon (8)      being = subjectivity = the reflective        being = subjectivity = the reflexive       being = objectivity = the reflective               being = objectivity = the reflexive (alt. given the atheistic scissors of definite / indefinite articles of the / a a reflex, a reflection) what this means is, what's generally thought of as the tetragrammaton, but it's not four letters,     it's the interpolation of the four main faculties, that are now seen as tripling up, or call them: cubed; a lament configuration representation.           thinking is subjective in that it is also reflective   (the narcissus bias)      thinking is subjective in that it is also reflexive      (i need a shave)      thinking is objective in that it is also reflective        (i am ageing)    thinking is objective in that it is also reflexive           (i'll just stop looking into a mirror)... dear apologies for the geometry of the arrangement                               of words, i know you'd love to see a tartan pattern               of interchange, but this **** seems rigid, in the way    that i wrote it... i couldn't find a way to write a b a b                      as stated, it only came out as a a b b,                             or a b c a b c         rather a a b b c c. but do you see what is even more fascinating than numbers?     the arithmetic symbols... arithmetic symbols are very much akin to diacritical symbols...               i write an over-simplification of a concept using =, and then all these conjunctional words pop up!    and yes, in terms of citing heidegger as opposed to         descartes      there's a great disparity between                           being     and i am -                           self-evident,       being = the sum, a total, Σ, while      i am? it's a unitary representation of the total (sum / sigma)     of the possible mode of being -        it's also called ego interference / pronoun inteference              in the conceptualisation of the cascade that's ergo                             into the basin that's dasein. what philosophy call metaphysics?                          linguistics call orthography...                                  what chemists call para- positioning on                      a benzene ring;                                          or what non-chemists call the paranormal.
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72
Were in the (study) trenches, but we don’t mind, in the trenches, you aren’t really aware of time, I’ve talked with a lot of my classmates, and the citadel lights are burning late. Ever startle awake because a spider’s on your face - but it’s only your hair? Sunny’s been infected with the writing sickness. She keeps saying “listen to this.” Orthography might just be the death of me - seriously. I dreamed Peter (my BF) was leaving. I saw him behind the wheel of a car, waving from the deck of a ship, and blurred in the window of a bullet train. It was like a wheel of misfortune.
0
Apr 25, 2023
Apr 25, 2023 at 2:29 PM UTC
bits
He is **** writer She is scarcely clad inciter Writer stumbles along scanning her song For words to add to his poem Songstress pretends not to notice adjectives he steals thieving glance at his heals All marauding spinning wheels Prosody ‘o orthography blow him plethora a plush collusion exile of garment illusion each sit across room She ties ribbon to bloom this ribbon runs through typewriter Who will be inciter? presume it is not Jeroboam ****** be this poem
0
May 5, 2016
May 5, 2016 at 10:45 AM UTC
Jeroboam’s Sin
*heretical grammar: the finite article is defined by ego... the infinite article is defined by god... **** your Freudian trinity.* when you first learn a language, you are taught the language in order to synthesise it... it takes about 20 years of having synthesised the language to then analyse it, and analysis of an acquired tongue is a comforting walk through the halls of Shiva kissing Hades like Erich Honecker and Leonid Brezhnev; you turn toward the way in which the language is programmed, silenced, encoded, you check the orthography, what's missing... i'm astounded to see how no one spotted missing diacritical marks in english, for fuck's sake... the greeks are even using them! no wonder england became such a ******** after the reigning power on a global scale... this is a Copernican gosh! it'll reign for some time; well, we know that Cyrillic is the evolved form of Greek, that paved the way for Mendeleev - i guess straining the sound encryption will make you see things differently, or as the English say in Essex: the H might as well be a surd.
0
May 24, 2016
May 24, 2016 at 11:21 AM UTC
Copernican observation by a worm
I know the world like no other the centripetal force that catapults me into the concrete wall at my back which leaves lashes of gravity and welts and wounds that remind me the tides will turn and I will careen towards a blackness not even I can comprehend. I know no middle ground I live only in extremes no gradations in my existence leave me no steps to descend the sheer cliff face that I toe ever so recklessly tempting that gravitational force whose mere presence fills me with righteous distilled rage. There is no grey here or is it gray? -ey -ay I don't even know the orthography well enough to describe how the two sides of me the wraith and the goddess could perhaps be intertwined effervescent power the cream swirling in inexplicable patterns until the coffee is a calm warm and no longer bitter on the tongue of those whose life is not lived only on the fringes the afterthought of a leather jacket fallen out of style decades ago and yet still worn as a reminder of the days when I danced until my movements fell in sync with the Earth's and I stopped being able to distinguish where my root feet ended and the moist midnight soil began. I know black I know white I know wintry obsidian nights the darkness so thick that even my sharpest blade could never penetrate its foreboding mass pressing in on me I know truly endless summer days when sleep is a forgotten virtue and sunlight pouring through my window warms me and I photosynthesize joy take all my nourishment from the ambrosia of the sun. In extremes there is no need but want.
0
May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 1:16 PM UTC
Untitled
I know the world like no other the centripetal force that catapults me into the concrete wall at my back which leaves lashes of gravity and welts and wounds that remind me the tides will turn and I will careen towards a blackness not even I can comprehend. I know no middle ground I live only in extremes no gradations in my existence leave me no steps to descend the sheer cliff face that I toe ever so recklessly tempting that gravitational force whose mere presence fills me with righteous distilled rage. There is no grey here or is it gray? -ey -ay I don't even know the orthography well enough to describe how the two sides of me the wraith and the goddess could perhaps be intertwined effervescent power the cream swirling in inexplicable patterns until the coffee is a calm warm and no longer bitter on the tongue of those whose life is not lived only on the fringes the afterthought of a leather jacket fallen out of style decades ago and yet still worn as a reminder of the days when I danced until my movements fell in sync with the Earth's and I stopped being able to distinguish where my root feet ended and the moist midnight soil began. I know black I know white I know wintry obsidian nights the darkness so thick that even my sharpest blade could never penetrate its foreboding mass pressing in on me I know truly endless summer days when sleep is a forgotten virtue and sunlight pouring through my window warms me and I photosynthesize joy take all my nourishment from the ambrosia of the sun. In extremes there is no need but want.
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.*even the norsemen fathomed a disgust for encouraging **** and cannibalism, even if it was: christian metaphorical*... the air has a whiff of soap in it, unlike the casual association of bourbon to a brothel...        the air... nearing the end of spring... at night...           and it has the scent of soap... scent of soap: a liquidated toll of melting, butter...   but with perfumery additions... like... once upon a time: squeezing lavendar...                  molotov chamomile? seriously... a bottle of bourbon can remind you of visiting a brothel... but... the night...    remidning you of melting butter, butter infused with chamomile?     night-time... and soap... soap...        no angelina jolie salt...                no salt: all, about...         soap! seriously, is it chamomile soap?             it's buttery glue sickly snort...                   "doodle"...                               and when all the president's men... oh when all the president's men... go marching in...    oh when all the president's men... go marching in... oh when all the president's men... oh when all the president's men... go marching in...    the president's men, the president's men... go marching in...    i want to be, in that, tabloid spew! oh when all the president's men go tacky 'em 'selves in on in;     i want to be in that "'umber"...               because otherwise the sun would never...           try being smart... contra the tabloid press...       i want to be... in that header... oh when all the president's men grovel, at ever, having marched in. you either learn the flute: or you learn to play the tongue - the equivalence of music here and the equivalence of music throughout...             i had to toy with diacritical marks because i wanted to be less jealous of people able to read music               script; it's not that poetry became a lesson in elocution:      but being able to make the distinction,        in that english has dyslexia while polish has orthography...         and there's always a democratic complexity of god to return to.    then again i do slur when it comes to practice:    but that comes from having observed:        the eyes read more than the tongue bothers to recite.       yet the crow is persistently consistent with its croaking: as i will be: adding accents... not for a reason to agree with a uniformity as the end results:   it's just that i don't like eating food cooked by other people, a friday night's fish & chips                               cooked by turks?
0
Jan 15, 2020
Jan 15, 2020 at 5:53 PM UTC
freeing all the drafts: soap no salt / southampton city blues
.*even the norsemen fathomed a disgust for encouraging **** and cannibalism, even if it was: christian metaphorical*... the air has a whiff of soap in it, unlike the casual association of bourbon to a brothel...        the air... nearing the end of spring... at night...           and it has the scent of soap... scent of soap: a liquidated toll of melting, butter...   but with perfumery additions... like... once upon a time: squeezing lavendar...                  molotov chamomile? seriously... a bottle of bourbon can remind you of visiting a brothel... but... the night...    remidning you of melting butter, butter infused with chamomile?     night-time... and soap... soap...        no angelina jolie salt...                no salt: all, about...         soap! seriously, is it chamomile soap?             it's buttery glue sickly snort...                   "doodle"...                               and when all the president's men... oh when all the president's men... go marching in...    oh when all the president's men... go marching in... oh when all the president's men... oh when all the president's men... go marching in...    the president's men, the president's men... go marching in...    i want to be, in that, tabloid spew! oh when all the president's men go tacky 'em 'selves in on in;     i want to be in that "'umber"...               because otherwise the sun would never...           try being smart... contra the tabloid press...       i want to be... in that header... oh when all the president's men grovel, at ever, having marched in. you either learn the flute: or you learn to play the tongue - the equivalence of music here and the equivalence of music throughout...             i had to toy with diacritical marks because i wanted to be less jealous of people able to read music               script; it's not that poetry became a lesson in elocution:      but being able to make the distinction,        in that english has dyslexia while polish has orthography...         and there's always a democratic complexity of god to return to.    then again i do slur when it comes to practice:    but that comes from having observed:        the eyes read more than the tongue bothers to recite.       yet the crow is persistently consistent with its croaking: as i will be: adding accents... not for a reason to agree with a uniformity as the end results:   it's just that i don't like eating food cooked by other people, a friday night's fish & chips                               cooked by turks?
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orthography implies: a word, yet diacritics implies letters, and ιota is the perfect example of an unnecessary diacritical misapplication, notably observed in a language that observes orthography: which is non-existent in english: which is still to untangle from the latin graphemes ae & oe; english hasn't untangled itself from the grapheme modus operandi: which is why LL TT NN OO GG PP: pull fattening manner pool bigger popping - invite the stutter! - a word is worth is its orthography - yet there is absolutely no need to indicate the letters I & J with a lower-case diacritical branding: because suddenly one of the letters disappears! i.e. with i = ι, j = ī a letter disappears! and people thought that quantum physics was bewildering... because there is no ****** reason to apply diacritical marking on a phonetic mark that's already a "solipsistic" unit... a saying revealed by: ιota = ιgrek in the north... | = . because what is 1 squared? 1... what's 1 cubed? 1. what's 1 to the power of 10? 1. *glitches glitches glitches glitches glitches glitches glitches glitches twitching twitching twitching twitching glitches glitches glitches glitches* - only yesterday i was in a supermarket and met a fellow traveller: a distant kin, whom i might have shared a native conversation with... point being: i could spot a language behind the "faςade" of accent... call that quasi s? a word sprang to mind - ziomek, a slang among immigrants denoting: a fellow of shared roots. yet that morphed into an: orthographic anomaly - why does the i and j need diacritical marks when there are exceptions to be made: otherwise? you know how easily you can write ziomek differently while still retaining the word and it's meaning? źomek: because the diacritical mark **** of ιota is just that... the unholy umlaut of i & j... | and . are already synonymous: they're not inter-sectional akin to the illiterate signature of X... why was it so hard to make a mark by a mere I... instead marking a count to 10? ah... in Kantian terms: 0 = negation... well: the 1 is to be denied.
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Feb 9, 2018
Feb 9, 2018 at 7:56 PM UTC
existent orthography (the unholy umlaut)
orthography implies: a word, yet diacritics implies letters, and ιota is the perfect example of an unnecessary diacritical misapplication, notably observed in a language that observes orthography: which is non-existent in english: which is still to untangle from the latin graphemes ae & oe; english hasn't untangled itself from the grapheme modus operandi: which is why LL TT NN OO GG PP: pull fattening manner pool bigger popping - invite the stutter! - a word is worth is its orthography - yet there is absolutely no need to indicate the letters I & J with a lower-case diacritical branding: because suddenly one of the letters disappears! i.e. with i = ι, j = ī a letter disappears! and people thought that quantum physics was bewildering... because there is no ****** reason to apply diacritical marking on a phonetic mark that's already a "solipsistic" unit... a saying revealed by: ιota = ιgrek in the north... | = . because what is 1 squared? 1... what's 1 cubed? 1. what's 1 to the power of 10? 1. *glitches glitches glitches glitches glitches glitches glitches glitches twitching twitching twitching twitching glitches glitches glitches glitches* - only yesterday i was in a supermarket and met a fellow traveller: a distant kin, whom i might have shared a native conversation with... point being: i could spot a language behind the "faςade" of accent... call that quasi s? a word sprang to mind - ziomek, a slang among immigrants denoting: a fellow of shared roots. yet that morphed into an: orthographic anomaly - why does the i and j need diacritical marks when there are exceptions to be made: otherwise? you know how easily you can write ziomek differently while still retaining the word and it's meaning? źomek: because the diacritical mark **** of ιota is just that... the unholy umlaut of i & j... | and . are already synonymous: they're not inter-sectional akin to the illiterate signature of X... why was it so hard to make a mark by a mere I... instead marking a count to 10? ah... in Kantian terms: 0 = negation... well: the 1 is to be denied.
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"What else could I ask from you, Sofia? Knowing that loving you is a challenge. Aesthetics is a branch of philosophy, And I don't trust my foolish brain. "It's that I have had girlfriends in my biography. And in the beauty I distrust, I better do you a tomography, Because I trust your brain the most. "When love is gone comes the epitaph, That it is buried in Philadelphia. The memory becomes the cenotaph, When she remembers you weren't **** "Remember when you inhaled gofio? ... pretending to own the mob, And Elifio's lover, But the doctor detected you an atrophy. "That you are Ecuadorian, it is because of the geography! That you make references, is for the bibliography! What do you know how to write it's because of the orthography! That you **** off» a lot it's the fault of *********** "«I feel» something for you; take me an x-ray; Don't worry, I photograph my heart. For you to understand the video, Sofia; My heart beats like white-crested elaenia. "The dance your betrayal didn't choreographed. I laugh, since maybe it filmographed In another part of the scenography. I saw you in bed with him, Sofia, And with your mobile, I took a picture of you. "Anyway: if I am born again, Sofia, I will study ethnography To evade you; love wrote: Emil doesn't believe in your «love», and that stunted him."
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Jun 9, 2020
Jun 9, 2020 at 2:39 PM UTC
13: 51 P. M.
For everhow long this is going on, this March Madness, this Ides of March B'ware Beta test based on the Shemitic glyph for house, But, I read, some where, the A is a bull, maybe with a broken neck, like, once upon a time A looked like a bull and not like house in the hills home-base kinda feeling in word, like Aces! one hand claps another's, we made it. But beta, home formed from the spoken Shemetic phoneme for dwelling place Beth, Bethel of divine upload download demo fame, as house of El, The symbol ranked by sequence second where the trickster bro in the great test story wrestled with El, and witnessed messengers of the same going up and down with word from some going to and fro What if that is where the idea of beta testing began? What if? Did you ever wish you had a real Brita water filter? Beta tested your pattern ecog. gotcha.  It is spelled βήτα in modern monotonic orthography and pronounced [ˈvita]. Testing testing testing pro fessing fessing fessing. Which makes more sense?
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Mar 3, 2020
Mar 3, 2020 at 8:47 PM UTC
Life could be a beta test
cŵn annwn: k-hhhh-n anne-wyn- sue me, the Welsh sometimes hark like a smoker of tobacco harks up some excess phlegm after a momentary lapse into coughing - harking - senile and bogus English - and that spaghetti h'american ęglish - love by insult - then again, not really: love by teasing - reign from above, reign from below - meeting in the middle hinging on the letters - not sure whether it's a K for the c - or whether i'm invited to use the Roman sigma - the Gauls' cedilla - çŵn - ah, the Greeks, and their orthographic aesthetics - in the trinity of sigma - ςŵν αννłν - i'm still for enforcing the reintroducing the grapheme into the Polish concept of its pompous orthography for the less literate graffiti "artists"... and there are... rz, cz, sz, ch exceptions... æ & œ... Adam & Eve, Orpheus & Eurydice - just to make it "easier" - the language could do with some aesthetic improvements - given it's so concerned with orthography - and that's what you might notice about the Polacks - zero interest in metaphysics - always the sort of people concerned with orthography... no wonder Nietzsche called us the equivalent of the French, among the Slavs; nice compliment.
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Sep 7, 2018
Sep 7, 2018 at 11:46 AM UTC
Adam & Eve, Orpheus & Eurydice
post scriptum:      sowiecka chmara... sowiecki: szmer szarości... wolna ręka        na viß-à-viß          obojątnego ciała: co podobnie wita...     "                 "         moze... moze i moze...     ale nie to: ...                      inclusive of apparently without a cliff-hanger.         mordo-rył-śliną-w-git, a potem:          o czoło w                           błoto:               fú!    (double stress on the exclaimation mark)... - by zbawić                    Dawida,   kim a nawet i kto,      w, na zero zastygł                   w posąg: ruchomym na skinienie           małpięj rękí...    kim to wita jego niby-nikim... 'eno moi...                a ja nadal: w szereg!    pytam: daleko tam do podłogi fiołkiem latać             poza gzyms? dasz pióra?!             (orthography is... a case of actually applying diacritical marks... don't worry england, russia has only butter to mind in...    back ь and forward я...            apparently)...                                   źle ci, człeku?! to co ci w morde opętaną do grzechu nad lud?!        no własnie: mi to samo! co?               a co?            a                                         gówno! serce mi gnije, i serce mi: pęka...          od jutra: nigdy od wczoraj! to i czasem zapomne                       tatuaż: precz... a lepi świnski:                             jeść, jeść, jeść; co tam: grzemota?                       niby rudy jid'y'ski, a to tes, do kurwidołka gest...                                 niby on: ń'cem!                                          хорошо?
0
Jun 11, 2018
Jun 11, 2018 at 8:12 PM UTC
from a soviet post scriptum
post scriptum:      sowiecka chmara... sowiecki: szmer szarości... wolna ręka        na viß-à-viß          obojątnego ciała: co podobnie wita...     "                 "         moze... moze i moze...     ale nie to: ...                      inclusive of apparently without a cliff-hanger.         mordo-rył-śliną-w-git, a potem:          o czoło w                           błoto:               fú!    (double stress on the exclaimation mark)... - by zbawić                    Dawida,   kim a nawet i kto,      w, na zero zastygł                   w posąg: ruchomym na skinienie           małpięj rękí...    kim to wita jego niby-nikim... 'eno moi...                a ja nadal: w szereg!    pytam: daleko tam do podłogi fiołkiem latać             poza gzyms? dasz pióra?!             (orthography is... a case of actually applying diacritical marks... don't worry england, russia has only butter to mind in...    back ь and forward я...            apparently)...                                   źle ci, człeku?! to co ci w morde opętaną do grzechu nad lud?!        no własnie: mi to samo! co?               a co?            a                                         gówno! serce mi gnije, i serce mi: pęka...          od jutra: nigdy od wczoraj! to i czasem zapomne                       tatuaż: precz... a lepi świnski:                             jeść, jeść, jeść; co tam: grzemota?                       niby rudy jid'y'ski, a to tes, do kurwidołka gest...                                 niby on: ń'cem!                                          хорошо?
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