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like know just time mind life feel world lost say we're things think love there's does people night away way thought got words long reality want better left make end eyes day man human dark experience remember really right death memory going place high good live city thoughts soul meaning great pain home sky believe shall change living oh fall light choice god consciousness existence years cause hard feeling thinking fear times 'cause dreams ask alive heart need past felt days dream sensation truth true use power knowledge wrong stars understand baby tell state thing face wave broken old you'll wave new broken nature you'll **** mental look far ah drug moment best ago air lose sleep dare try leave beautiful blue born lives escape sublime doesn't body dawn friends waiting feels young daze game control perception gone story mean sun head given writing act difference reason poetry philosophy psyche little trying touch deep greatest wonder choose drugs exist we'll moments score hold play set run self forget coming hope word future dead wish burn music emotion rain stop gaze pleasure glass one's what's lies sense wake hit remain real work bad stay open brain art seek space present happy spent acid pill social we've they're half-light used land held gotta help lie path finally listen actually longing rave water cold seeking caught energy reflection information anymore venturous goes came red hide start truly hand evil divine subtle matter kind lonely yes told eternity keeps line black edge ego context dusk horizon gonna spiritual tripping dimension data die white **** seen means care getting saw places sure freedom looking hurt fool wind flow search chance la took broke existential summer content flowing belief praise empyrean empathy discovery chemical aeon couldn't who's turn forth bit question eye judgement pray passion sound personal worth memories sanity accept universe embrace lack knows free makes rise language decide consider temporal society gain wander conscious stuff religious comprehend particle psychedelic metaphysics you've entheon absurdia entactus maybe ready fate realize family meant return perfect learn miss spirit doubt rest loved minds health moving mortal bring expression sleeping cast lines purpose quiet known strange infinite king months madness haze depths ate party patterns oneself psychedelion inside guess crowd later silent clear soft breath hours hate dust forgotten arms drink fast year war longer close searching morning ashes calm beauty darkness different justice fell friend shadows knowing fine youth heavy standing sweet enjoy explain vain simple chasing hidden ends smoke gold heaven follow point person breaking necessary today relief action cool possible bass generation lying listening machine yeah substance hath engine forlorn problem subject intangible study effort quantum definitions dopamine psychedelics we'd sigma cybran apotheon isn't empathion clouds practice gave warm wanted stand poem wait storm met asleep course skies crime surely grow depression write loose fair ecstasy knew dreaming humanity waves share taken simply faith playing sands view fix winter afraid began wise welcome comprehension sought late big zero table says bliss changed repetition everybody blame unto maze understanding mr explore states ignore addiction venture define teenage american humans billion she's wasn't 'til sonder walk smile tonight speak dance skin blood breathe fears illuminate worse peace girl crave easily emotions feelings **** having force ways lets catch meet hair doors worlds hearts destroy heard walking near hurricane wisdom lights second suicide ignorance fresh waking sadness grand happiness appear rising scared save join adventure neon outside alike liberty particles wonderful compounds killed somebody grace merely closer company desert master twisted realm respect trance ridiculous *** exile pondering noble dangerous absurd nation progress culture contradiction perceive irish urban phenomena cyberspace scoreboard psi ain't you'd mydriasis entheogenesis **** ones taste throw watch painting room alas lay history spend apart sea staring poet fact cut smell happened admit river wasted brought leaves making answer sorry glow learned decided grasp breeze bed begin pretty floor lived sole sand cure awake sight tears barely kept running safe roam willing prefer mist heads asked prose wandering sounds imagine looked hour growing recognize soon falls mirror treat ***** brother climb hero problems granted digital proud changes birth quest age spring aware doing witness names amazed ****** despite takes condition intoxication level beginning worked pupils decision object insanity rhythm medium quality weather physical false process strife individual journey doth code effects abandoned channel judge notions moral swear experienced greater chain natural thunderous cleanse determine shivering hallowed plus reckon caused adolescence media superposition addict connection indigo ethics survived definition reasoning internet feedback vibrancy serotonin cyclone hacker sardonic surreality virtuality here's he's sunyata temporality ******'s empathos apotheotelos flash shining green forever anger carry son moon selfish written supposed feed ya quite loop hooked pure feet hole paper flag sick voice burning attention fly utter wicked tremble endless form infinity talking piece shores verse chest rules food placed plan hallelujah called gun fading drinking emotional measure inspiration suffering belong west read sly instead bear erase furious shame conclusion drunk roll ******* depressed calls taught died defined tire everyday answers sacred acknowledge speaks perfection games ground spoke stood motion sway keeping pretend hell movement magic park key spin kick sake jump hanging animal begins orange streetlights fade crazy honest warp puppet chained survive apathy chains claim prey science diamonds begging grip tale hang powerful wonderland heal dealing plant twice painful daylight mastery desires recall school conviction miracle yearn empyreal weekend actual court value chalk hurts humankind rabbit eggs potential offers temporary pupil atlas nostalgia serenity happens yearning ponder hypothesis worthy witnessed ideas azure tools alpha curiosity consume singularity typhoon revelation stimulant liberate application projection criminals communication throes fraternity enables actuality starshine ethos apotheosis sardonicism aren't mind's teleology empatheon entheos hear mydriatic transcendention fight tear ash minutes wanna taking nights forgot tales lest desire lust darkest single shine slow allow destruction money comes anxiety contemplate nostalgic offer continue happen ink brings brave created holding create thunder produce talk sail philosopher creating distant illuminating drive dancing ease wishing higher pass excuse figure essence angel hopes child ahead sigh using door vast loves awaits strong tornado ok sorrow immortal ghosts certain remains stained insane reached lot discovered plain poison streets killing ending tried session vs poor woke stare watching grass slick emptiness falling box painter series children virtues awareness clean rolling reach advice heavens rend half cherish bay started relax focus laughed ashamed fiend melody drop exhale void occurs beneath win chose robes thrall shield ended sons normal sunrise road forged onward burden actions unlike colors curious street observe chosen silence shades returns technology race vengeance swept bag civilization strive reconcile trouble cloud described replaced substances whilst finding euphoria dear chemistry events deal message eternal masses beliefs vision apparent honestly dr seeing idea domain soar books frames rule law pleasures eat dread bare blaze raise compassion kindness wandered objects expressed sin declare mistake smoking drum heavenly honor lands fountain renew happening aspect gotten issues divinity teach matters pills goal follows significant job romantic gazed envelope elements identity group sell foolish lucid dimensions brothers owe education november difficult recognition express properties glitter considering illusion appreciate discover resonance derived transcendental buzz notion risk scares riot rainy teaching drizzle direct experiences elation normality quote evolution versus lamplight method reflective endeavour cloth eats teenagers eventually haul club result relative breed threat subjective concerning solstice interpretations allows rational ultimately basis aligned numbness hypocrite charade morality dope chaser continuum undead exploits aeons research freeman appropriate ion ****** teachings dilation binge beatific intuitive transcendent escapism psychedelia metaphysical beta untitled mescaline otherworldly dreampt contextual experiential symbiosis codex dissociation cybernetic weren't life's let's mirror's well-being any-more entheogenic junkiedom signifiers mescalito zero-summing won't 'pataphysics window million pair logic alright whisper stone walls notice fun picture lips whispering dying wanting hands pull remained pieces poems built push house choices united turns blessed lucky drifted sane demons demon external slowly worst angels town needs needed drifting watched abyss crimson liquid arch planes add souls questions leads flicker thousand swallow note strings player despair offering realms drift caressing enter gentle closed bodies letter beat gorgeous indescribable smiling laughing probably pick grown shade precious shooting background yesterday woman ocean sober lead clothed ghost flows turned conscience alphabet contain spun luck atmosphere vagabond completely surprise rock creed drawn book autumn rays spinning bottle early regrets lake kids sad acceptance stuck melancholy formed slip draw clearly scars collapse del sit satisfied jungle realized bunch favourite laid fit breaks notes plans anyways spoken produced echoes den trees steps ugly cover explained glance stole gazing current raised travel scratch haunts played women apathetic conquest naught goodbye midnight asking passed waste loss fallen rapture absolute positive walked mistakes lately bound patience nurture fog stranger men wants prevent forfeit asks arose easy quick sing allowed prove pitch mad closest deeply tides praying root poets sentence pulse nightmare deem coffee commit golden insert mock innocent whispers offend low tea strength captured attack stories baseline joint innocence neural chemicals plains blanket dripping reflect blink concepts psychosis plucked tidal radiance roar bathed wonders thrown moves suffer unspoken exists glad shroud plunge scorn bane asunder enslaved harvest possibly fail allure drank danger unsaid veil gravity assume sum receive bloom reveal odd whispered likes news fractured wisely gathered seraphim intention wrought plane weeks mere haunting aspects ha distance hungry eternally swaying eden foretold breach advance pains balance design event forgive significance confidence error alter paying unreality cost chronology thoroughly resembles vivid steal poetic illegal understands maelstrom temples amidst perpetual lesson pathos behold reborn produces scale heaviness ascend talked **** forsake valuable andor relinquish dismiss usually kid nervous sort fierce disguise demands abandon encourage avoid minor relentless identify loneliness web alchemy cosmic rhyme coil suffered basking dropped standard spark mates hearth swore steam myth native wonderfully occasionally solace ventures determination galaxy opportunity justify political prophecy steadfast healthy forsaken chapter facebook worried ex struggle shatter gentleman including convinced profit comfortable twine deity responsible adrift sage fortune immortality theft damage examine deliverance ultimate immersion response access test physics magnitude occur member relation acts theme signal shivers mire coin planet anybody vicious nirvana pendent applause glimmering benediction consuming glint refrain renewal myths manifest nocturnal reflections limitations teenager naturally material matrix columbine giveth inseparable singular proving lifestyle coherence humane ideals starlight sincerely prudence underworld infamous perspective presented pretends excitation viewed regard enhanced zen reverence arcadia theory realization typing construct statement subjugated exploration vote hazy reaper **** streetlight artificial trespass definitive device exceed complex finality surreal petrol proposition inspiring totality originally recurring narcotic cometh juxtaposition reckoning represent inability proclamation syntax continuity nevermind avoidance irrelevant veracious arcadian commence rumination aesthetics ubiquitous nonetheless variable exploit experiencing underlying villain cola rictus ketamine corporeal electronic graciously input cannabis manifestation comprised socially proportionate insofar ethical hedonism junkies vicissitudes cognitive determining psychiatrist palindrome lucidity remix reduction dissociative reclamation detract aer enhancement intoxicants qualia world's shouldn't wouldn't other's nothing's man's summer's today's who'd everybody's y'all 'the all's t'was ethereality thought's drug's noumenon skystruck shroom alexithymia transhuman you- -the in-between self-sufficiency -one zed's 15 11 liminality immanence adrenergic symbionts sublimeoblivious medina's buckfast psychonautes determinative serotonergic psychedelos skyglow cyclica 5-ht2a noumena pharmahuasca jeans role proper loud aching grows concrete cruel strains conversation ill paint wet couple calling mouth kiss senses case keeper torn pause middle setting whats pulling bone reminds likely remind wrath karma reading sunlight prone ***** phrase enemy familiar levels careful source adolescent small straight driving courage rush flaw suppose starting deny stayed weary worship trust turbulent troubled letting absence leaving wearing college proclaim spirits gather ear lady hey garden boys winning alcohol pay foolishly banish song cross encounters plays belonging famous shift burst alice tunes hood flickers glimpse gleam fleeting grant ride deja vu anticipation spot switch boyfriend order faded wrapped definitely short fish beach clock older dusted block station anchor longest deserve passing mark awhile lovers muse ache island totally existing comfort pride phone greek apollo bleeding unknown psychic powder remembrance tree train helps painted gambling tide tired acting blow build apologies silver fabric especially suspense band cascade flawless heat hunger nearly numb bread bright minus wide looks differently dive beating veins settle turning couch holds saying impression suspension meaningless plastic rich pointless occupied brief tiger sticks stones mask cake bitter concentrate drown forbidden shell dry walks unless regardless moved type shirt lone burns songs negative momentary staying police swing unseen ability analysis worries determined dreamt sink hopelessly chances abuse palm week existed ignorant blind dice sheep agree joke spy spill odds immeasurable *** pushing wanderlust softly midst presents blade guided ripped round ball lovely rhythms beats cars glaze wash fates evening vein gloss juvenile sides faces graces month circular rung wheel rises permeates father supreme portal liked rip fades october sitting grin showing surrounded explored opened confused wall quietly deftly scene sighs lingering radio altered evaporated suns dreamed vibration important appetite exactly devil inhabiting brains ordinary beckons constant local organic soothing linger meditation moonlight lads height ethereal simplicity kinda cigarette suggest violence blew bombs arise trips predict surface guy movements grey car stepped large bank forward landed lied ancient purely crash direction inspired release warned melodic rhythmic telling mysticism blues riddle blur floating drama neck lover nerve poisonous glare factory wage character suburbia escaped gates suspended followed pierced hall marks ruled influence functioning contained losing stopping effect electronica relate fed temper facts dependent malleable convey bent delve horror wolves won lacking certainly fooled temple oblivious watches extension molecular random subtlety rem price sear covers truths judging stage frost conditions victory millennium realised confront trickster eve daughter defines awoke terror remembere
Composed on 00:53, 21/09/2016 using Hello Poetry's 'Words' algorithm. We don't assume this means something.
like know just time mind feel life world say people things lost we're does love think there's away long way thought night got words want better day human left right remember man dark end reality memory experience going make really eyes place 'cause good death tell great feeling soul home high consciousness live pain thoughts fear understand fall thing city sky believe god meaning thinking lose change oh felt hard ask heart times years shall need past light living existence choice use dreams power days cause poetry talking state we'll alive knowledge **** true moment little hope old wrong mental stars wave ago gone broken look brain dream far given truth feels head you'll best sensation baby try leave forget young sleep face stop escape blue dare drug lives wish doesn't drugs work earth new acid game nature bad sublime gods break beautiful ah writing hold born trying coming friends hold writing ah space daze burn body reason rain real moments wonder music memories exist psyche control waiting dawn future act philosophy word choose emotion lies deep one's difference self score truly perception actually finally what's story sure spent play happy greatest help start used lie took listen touch run belief fool glass hurt we've gaze goes cold set seek they're yes information anymore longing lonely qualia social land water afraid kind getting came dead hit present keeps gotta pleasure reflection free rave line held pray path sense art black half-light wake question quiet remain longer pill stay course open ego matter places worth lack horizon saw dusk beauty hand makes energy looking gonna data told seeking die **** seen subtle bit caught venturous means freedom yeah divine eternity empathy later rise perfect minds edge comprehend spiritual write couldn't evil care ashes summer knew turn content context accept existential white red sound chance who's consider hide judgement friend 'til realize dimension cast gave tripping praise health la enjoy search universe winter broke empyrean gain family personal spirit flowing wanted point poem lying wander loved wind knowing sleeping rest stuff doubt flow began embrace months knows discovery society hate aeon darkness chemical surely searching meant oneself infinite share forgotten fell late person religious conscious *** you've teenage blame eye instead different clear bring follow known decide forth strange cool stand we'd miss psychedelic passion today wasn't language catch purpose patterns tonight subject madness temporal ready simple sanity asked entheon absurdia entactus psychedelics metaphysics humans particle unto skies inside arms drink smoke bass youth breath listening close depths intangible expression mortal nostalgia practice return loose maybe dancing shadows king war answers morning silent dust ****** party generation near judge define asleep quite machine lines moving learn hath fate ate crowd standing haze guess brought certain fair read ways hours irish scared fine reckon possible ain't year psychedelion ******* apotheon substance isn't study bliss selfish ends warm dopamine explain fix addiction culture respect wisdom calm hurricane problem contradiction heaven forlorn vain gold sweet hidden effort fast she's breaking changed engine faith dance maze alas girl sigma watch grand heavy justice wait tried doors appear phenomena definitions somebody ignore feelings process sonder cybran soft depression chasing taken throw answer action relief having wandering compounds quantum necessary effects empathion ethos begin everybody rising clouds emotions indigo falls ecstasy fresh american walking glow outside speak force grow physical says view voice happiness shame sought age understanding lay individual billion explore crave pretty lights comprehension tears big sands crime waves taught forever venture adolescence welcome humanity comes zero storm wise claim swear sounds pass **** met he's internet mr table company repetition heard playing ***** mirror lets awake sorry doing dreaming states pondering ridiculous simply greater heal hear natural mydriasis mydriatic substances fades asking measure worse scoreboard destroy erase blood leaves worlds abandoned skin twisted walk grace smile fading illuminate hearts bed food ignorance admit drunk spring exile apart killed talk master meet waking chose neon adventure join **** mist aren't breathe psi laughing feet river trance wonderful floor hair desire breeze birth desert fade looked urban continue nation probably second belong willing alike criminals progress cyberspace sole survive names pills fears beginning digital you'd sadness easily depressed perceive surreality poets merely remains sober closer prose fact growing died save insanity defined session soon realm empyreal taste suicide science skins quality peace raise ashamed azure quit yearn piece notions absurd noble liberty entheogenesis reckoning feedback particles object reconcile baseline chain sardonic false weather hallowed intoxication wasted ******'s here's express cover green witness anger treat sacred pure cure ethics code objects level happen room addict smell fun climb pupils mere ok quest roam park meaningless form hour reasoning cyclone laugh nostalgic inspiration takes attention drop written sigh hole statement sand keeping thunderous sight despite grasp lived called drinking west heads spoke daylight staring song calls hell shivering kept recognize granted weekend problems decided aware happened hacker forgive sea key single moral sway definition caused connection channel difficult media strife dangerous ones cleanse imagine running utter ground spend vibrancy trees changes rhythm everyday group deal foolish hurts anxiety painting proud brother crazy amazed value temporality decision journey spinning making ha acknowledge learned scars apotheosis sort serotonin poet safe experienced potential lucky sunyata condition poor witnessed history doth barely pretend taking hero superposition plus suffering prefer offer won't medium empathos essence events reflect apotheotelos actual determine house issues worked begging virtuality swore gleaming sly gentleman wicked abyss feed lands tea moon miracle honest streetlights tale lust nights early chained allow placed life's actions emotional plant plan drizzle speaks spin hypocrite conviction watching rules jump application chains forged angel fail reflections lot illuminating flag grip fly sick wonderfully create freeman shine job supposed eggs draw pupil dripping tremble mescaline singularity subjective darkens alpha needed atlas orange discover rabbit warp joint wonderland perfection ponder souls silence ahead roll magic ease bag sorrow escapism sake chest magnitude chaser cloud infinity replaced revelation survived vs carry yearning school slip games begins curiosity heavens powerful typhoon furious theory hypothesis apathy serenity mind's marks window humankind cybernetic fraternity liberate cut movement excuse stopped thunder tire apparent mastery occurs motion paper masses throes falling race hanging bear follows sardonicism endless burning idea ideas burden court ya verse consume kick method stood temporary flash realized eat kindness occur advice shades properties shores hang shining ink rolling minutes street deem tools autumn empatheon entheos reach echoes remix diamonds gets worthy identity thoroughly stuck happens recall conclusion choices fiend dealing finding gun son stimulant experiencing depth twice starshine whilst chosen thereof hooked confused enables painful desires serotonergic teleology prey loop wishing relation neural animal hallelujah ultimately projection communication actuality significant experiences remind transcendention notion proposition works illusion puppet offers chalk series occasion calling degrees ended sin figure slick ending ash sentence glance rend november eve drum rainy destruction romantic drawn shadow observe ghosts bodies wandered atmosphere box familiar children honor road serve beliefs strong avoid lessons returns poison relax exhale whispered intention liquid stare dope needs ****** smoking club relative glitter reached fractured stones junkiedom aspect ketamine heavenly scares domain excess robes vast euphoria grass thrall elation buzz renew dr waste let's morality wanna bottle immortal owe intuitive wouldn't teachings transcendent nocturnal education eternal divinity drive aligned illegal lamplight sell sail insomnia curious beatific seeing insane continuum kiss beta void soar roar fog basis **** town cost regrets appropriate brave threat using emptiness fountain short stole shield riot shade ghost numbness stained steam dreampt october ion derived hazy money message sing quote metaphysical scene swept plain colors nirvana alright unlike dear low teens nonetheless pick considering teenagers beneath door electronic kids build pulse teaching kid mistake teach tear contextual political civilization vision dissociation completely tells normal nevermind raised brings laughed melody spot streets holding coffee praying violence appreciate vengeance law trust exploits slowly trouble mirror's refrain compassion eats recognition discovered blaze otherworldly pieces darkest angst brothers sit win buckfast vicious binge breaks undead forgot demands able notice lucid dimensions evolution sunrise plans philosopher killing produce working cloth produced painter gazing favourite track bunch haul arrives started chemistry prevent awaits definitive strive versus rule dread bare slow stayed onward altered helps lifestyle losing followed woke fight event innocence charade child ventures higher y'all acceptance pay any-more bay vicissitudes codex cannabis pleasures planes doses awareness steal beat zero-summing narcotic lest strength matters reading easy sons drift solstice half formed normality weren't hungry hopes declare research tales envelope regret tired breed release honestly haven't it'll blow entheogenic stories amidst insofar technology direct binary pushing gotten patience danger symbiosis dilation gleam untitled risk remembering aeons contemplate suppose allows goal certainly virtues well-being popular regard result tornado mescalito usually distant creating skyglow behold manifest psychedelia representation endeavour excitation transcendental resonance odd growth hedonism possibly focus proper assert formation described interpretations reflective determination rational consuming cherish expressed pathos psychoactive eventually significance dissociative strings author experiential specific oxytocin loves glimpse frames loneliness elements created 'pataphysics craft betrayal typical built wall wonders concerning critique signifiers books failing assume effect 'auld subject-object lethe scorn wants shroud understands enhanced ascend tides finality collapse lake reclamation beach proclamation justify junkies hood teen streetlight caressing lips other's comprised harvest midnight blink aching lesson responsible native fortune mistakes nurture grown healthy test mock especially badly boring walked gorgeous innocent villain giveth benediction stone rictus nightmare skystruck insignificance struck **** nothing's thrown unspoken den shatter loss subjugated angels myth fallen demon temples reborn irrelevant thousand clothed plains whispering insert telling everybody's ultimate expand immortality small rapture bound dry comedown starlight whispers contained watched attack mechanism questions palindrome perpetual surreal theme perspective bane heathen basking singular physics sighs rhyme deity sincerely goodbye fit asunder naught comfort adrift -the radiance plunge rock planet twine applause current enhancement zen profit terrible ill weary leaving fierce alchemy luck speed opportunity men arose prophecy steadfast captured sage demand weird estates gathered distance all's foretold sold wrath kinda relentless advance coil anybody columbine ocean drown spoken ancient eden wet blessed crimson concepts yesterday evening deeply whisper flicker enter book apathetic streetlamps trespass spun turned clean underworld disguise viewed despair tunes melancholy reverence unsaid noise o' groups turning swallow dropped lead confident veracious offend talked switch teenager shouldn't paying allure variable humane inspiring ex 11 matrix flickers offering receive signal news chant exhaustion access background commence summer's arcadia deja vu complex realization vivid stick sublimeoblivious deliverance belonging creed symbionts pendent sane smiling rumination plane glint resembles conversation web corporeal solace theft burned they'll sensations shivers satisfied enslaved mire comfortable shattered arch medina's fragmented plead achieve woman stage swaying dismiss entire numb lord type chapter infamous conquest aspects proving leads bloom floating precipitation artificial renewal spill beating midst petrol mad hands exploit movements examine women sublimation occurred eternally notes dizziness perceptive guys haunts spark poems poetic pull remained gazed vagabond presented blanket cried stranger glad lucidity turns sum details pour valuable exceed represent surprise continuity occasionally relinquish gravity likes weeks wrought gathering entirely reaper rays aging root laid balance four-twenty provide double-edged ceased exploration mates world's walls alteration faces breach million grey tidal unknown price absolute garden haunting train jungle aloud allowed habits closed syntax difficulty alter scratch glimmering drifting quenched explained forfeit in-between clearly ideals ubiquitous chemicals happening abandon supreme drifted soothing reveal alcohol stimulants psychonautes indescribable conscience closest dying andor travel gentle foodstuffs tree worried demons pair recognise inability ensure including hey graciously prove logic rhetoric 15 galaxy lately hearth ethereality forsake wanting steps memorable 'round player moves del you- encourage finished suspect frequently intoxicants acts aer veil qualities animals remembered karma kissed burying shooting bold scattered input howling design forsaken banish seraphim wide cola united democracy meandering -one zed's hot commit self-sufficiency thought's psychosis flows unreality immersion aesthetics realms struggle wisely immanence absolutely member add writings coin avoidance naturally boys inseparable standard convinced concerns passed prudence quick external suffer choosing produces letter proclaimed myths pains shroom bright absurdity awhile prospect sad distribution recreation responsibly ghb adrenergic minor neurotransmission cyclica lonesome foolishness cometh 5-ht2a beings golden pitch cathinone suggest conclude cognitive motions ethical condensate precious abuse compound underlying adult bask push damage attachment originally determinative heaviness concept facts today's regress detract step ugly absence cosmic note imagination psychedelos noumena noumenon reader haunt determining error questioning habit measured limitations manifestation learning arcadian joke hallucinogens material diethylamide mysterious exists 'twas response proportionate quantized nervous anyways identify qualify device analysis moderate moderation alterations accompanying totality fascinated gradually 'the represented brief juxtaposition played t'was resides tribe stead vote period liminality delete recurring mirror-neurons alexithymia craic ar positive drank maelstrom pharmahuasca wondered reflecting lovely facebook typing quale implicit dispute occurring fallacy treasure exactly reduction distinction discussion man's construct couple contain lovers failed confidence writer's integrity worst psychiatrist sesh rare chronology scale drug's definitely title sesh-heads who'd asks unable tomorrow plucked picture alphabet named coherence task pretends inevitable contemporary trips graces wrote entertain vice elicit psychoactives feens conform deface replace grin h-bomb atomic bleeding 20 bloodless unequalibrium following quench hunger bent euphoric display interstellar vertigo influence waited sunlight explored paradise soaring faded sitting unafraid aqua tinted source itches optional differently stem rich greed forbidden negative privacy react earned ails charity gift couch courage endlessly fascinating boyfriend phrase movies hopelessly loud admission inherent hypocrites intoned devil laconic sinful vein surrounded movie contempla
Composed on 01:33, 27/02/2017 using Hello Poetry's 'Words' algorithm. We still don't assume this means something.
Rob Sep 2011
So is Physics now in trouble
Because neutrinos too fast fly
As clever troglodytes with white coats
Measure once again the psi
Could it explain the dopamine injection?
The amphetamine of just one kiss
Underpinning organic chemistry
That can make me feel like this
But No -  it goes much deeper
It might give credence to the thought
That sometimes things just happen
With a cause that sums to nought
So Einstein wasn’t wrong
He just did not say it all
He knew that physics has its part to play
In explaining why we fall.
RD © 2011
I have ventured there
and for a while I thought
I would not return
from the realms of the mind
that go beyond this earth.

No words can summarize
the sensation/experience
of existence in a psychedelic state.
With that said,
I do declare:

*Psi.
Time dilation via thought acceleration
To a psychedelic summer
and those days spent trypping.
Perhaps solo it would be different;
I feel the need to understand this.
What have I found so indescribable?
What is this, tripping over experience?

If any word could conjur
the things my mind has seen?
Psi.
Welcome to the Entheon,

Where time stalls while in motion
*if one can summon control of thy thought's rotation.
You must know,
You will question everything,
In ways you cannot yet imagine.
Heather Butler Aug 2012
for Daniel,
                   and anyone else who cares*

I'm relatively new at this,
if you consider that I've
never done this before.

And this is the only time I'll read this;
this is the cherry
exploding in your mouth,
between your hungry teeth
digging into the skin.

You are a window pane,
but you are not stained glass.
You are less clear than that.

You make less sense than
the spider veins of a kiss imprinted
on a bus window.

You make less sense than kissing a bus window,
arching and aching for that semi-perfect,
seventy percent reflection of yourself
as you float above and before
birds picking at beetles in the grass.

You make more sense than a thousand
kisses on a bus window
the driver has to keep cleaning off because
who really wants to kiss a bus window, anyway?

And still they're there, the oils and grease
immortalized for a few months,
the impression of imagined romance
pressed against the scratched glass on which someone tried to write,
"*******," backwards with a safety pin.

This is my first time reading this,
and the last time I will say it,
though it sounds much better when
the man inside my head so charismatically reads it aloud
to his audience
kind of like a dry comedian would tell a joke.

This is my first time standing before you,
and let me say that sometimes
I might offend you,
preachers, and speakers, and pew sitters;
evangelists and full blooded, God-fearing sinners alike.
And maybe you can forgive me
if I occasionally step on your closed-minded toes
in your sensible shoes.

Or perhaps they aren't so sensible.

And I got a haircut recently--
and here I'm expected to say something profound.
Something that perhaps sounds like,
"I got a haircut recently
while you stood in the bathroom with an electric razor
and shaved ten months of memories from your scalp."

Scalp.
The word makes me think of natives,
and it makes me wonder how long it takes
to collect the bleeding wigs from
the hairless children you left in the street.

Street.
That word makes me think of--
and here again I must choose my words carefully,
because the next thing I say will expose myself
poetically and psychologically--
spinal injuries.

All the careless children walking down sidewalks
not thinking of their mothers as they step
on every single crack in the pavement.

But what if everything we were superstitious about
were real?

Would we repave the world every week
so that there would be no chance of breaking
an innocent woman's back through carelessness?
There will be no cracks for thoughtless children
in their sneakers
they are too young to tie on their own.

Or perhaps the world would be covered in grass,
and every day mother would wrap the scarf
tightly about her son's ears and whisper,
"Don't step on any rocks today, my love.
I'm still recovering from last week."

But that's ridiculous.

I suppose it's surprising to me how many words
the man in my head can say while staring at a
Manhattan Morning in black and white
hung on your wall by three thumb tacks.
The lower right corner hangs idly where I took
the fourth one out to make this poem sound better.

There is a solar system in your ceiling,
did you know that, my love?
It is not in the asymmetrically placed
glow in the dark stars you placed at random,
nor is it in that one dolphin that seems to
swim amongst the Saturns and galaxies
that make no sense in context.
It isn't the seahorse, either.

Would you say that the Milky Way is made of wishes?
When I lie next to you in the darkness
uttering soft lullabies, I make wishes to your ceiling
that my voice doesn't crack
and you don't wake up again.
And also that perhaps one of us is wrong about God
and maybe he is out there after all
and mass-delusion doesn't exist.

I still think I'm right, though.

You make less sense than a kiss that means nothing.

But you, my love, you are more than a thousand kisses.
You are more than the thousand words
a picture may be worth.
And if I were better at saying things
maybe I could preserve you in a poem.

But I don't think anyone can.
No one can shape words and pages to your figure,
the fullness of your lips and
the strength of your nose;
the holes in your ears and
the life between your legs.

I got a haircut the other day
and cut twenty months of memories from my scalp.
It feels nice to not remember,
anymore.
Thoughts on maybe doing a poetry slam one day.
Johnny Raven Mar 2014
Psi-ops focused on minorities (COINTEL-PRO), Psi-ops now focus on ALL
You and Me!
(MK-Ultra, Artichoke, Shock & Awe)
The gangster culture bludgeoned into propaganda creation criminals Into Gangster Cool,
Turning the police, militarized, arrest the Latin & Black Race, but Cops and bangers (used as fools) are being used as social control,
Chess board tools
And don't think that if your white your even close to safe,
The poison in our water and food has destroyed all peoples Including the supposed master race,
Another group of jesters, another group of  F O O L S
There is a cabal of evil men, "Pedophiles In High Places,"
Above The Law
Counting their countries,
Counting their thousands of faces...
Murdering our children and leaving no traces.
Bohemian Grove, Mena in Arkansas,
Fast & Furious, even Benghazi
Our liberties and free speech have been kamikazied
Being taken, being lost, the dumbing down of our children
How much more can we pay, and at what cost?
(IE Common Core: Ignorance ****) the chemicals in our foods, GMO, flicker rates and SRI's, SOO many
We choose our
Side Effects, and more...Rolling dice, Roll the Bones
Snake Eyes People,
They're stealing Our Country, Our Liberty, Our Home!!!
ATF extortion of ARES in Oceanside (CA), Small business owner,
A man of pride, fighting back against Tyranny and those who lied
An out of control government, please, no matter what political side
We are on
Our Constitution, Our Bill of Rights, protects us
At the end of the day.
Come together against a common threat.
ΜΟΛΩΝ ΛΑΒΕ (Molon Labe)
ΜΟΛΩΝ ΛΑΒΕ (Molon Labe)
ΜΟΛΩΝ ΛΑΒΕ (Molon Labe)
The over stepping of the Executive/Judicial/Legislative Branches
Involve us all. Right, Left, Middle, or Moral Ambiguity
Too many rogue parties, too many spy dances
The abominations afflicted on our fellow Americans
(Children, Veterans, Civilians, Active Duty)
At the end of the day no snowflake ever excepts responsibility of
The avalanche that destroys our humanity.

We the people shall overcome, we the people shall
Awaken the 'Sheeple'
Left or Right, Middle, or Combative-Fight
In the end Americans can and will do
What is right...

In the end Americans will know What is right and we will fight
We Will Fight, Today
We Will Fight, Tomorrow
We Will Fight, Every Day
ΜΟΛΩΝ ΛΑΒΕ (Molon Labe)
ΜΟΛΩΝ ΛΑΒΕ (Molon Labe)
ΜΟΛΩΝ ΛΑΒΕ (Molon Labe)!

- Johnny Raven
© Copyright 2014
ARES Armor (Oceanside, CA.) vs. The A.T.F.
  I kind of just wrote this out pretty quickly mainly its on my outrage at the A.T.F. violating a restraining order legally presented to them by the company ARES (https://aresarmor.com/)
The ATF violated the terms of the warrant. Lied on what they stated the business had. The owner operator and employee's have the whole situation on video/audio. A week or two prior the A.T.F. told the company to hand over it's customer list of names addresses and specifically anyone who bought more than 2 lower receivers to make their own firearms or they would raid their business. First off, this is illegal. So ARES went and got a restraining order...you know what here is a link.  

(1.)  http://www.video.theblaze.com/media/video.jsp?content_id=31578771&topi;;_id=&tci;;=vpp_copy_31578771&v;=3

(2.) http://youtu.be/sb8kYwxbxsA

The laws regarding making your own firearms are strict and there are very specific guidelines you must follow to create them. However people who choose to make there own firearms do so because they feel the government having a list of all gun owners - names/addresses/etc (Law abiding citizens I might add) makes us all feel uncomfortable and frankly its none of their business. the more you look into the situation the more you realize these agencies are violating numerous federal and state laws. They are getting away with it due to the simple and understandable fact that people are afraid to retaliate legally and non-violently. This company ARES is fighting back. Please show them your support by showing up to their court dates to show you support not only our Constitution, but our Bill of Rights.
Alpha.
Dopamine Hit For The Data-Addict

Beta.
Conscious Experience

Gamma.
Being Is A Category

Delta.
The Existential Is Ours To Warp As We See Fit

Epsilon.
This Iris Brimming With Choice Or Judgement

Zeta.
Dialectics Of Thought

Eta.
Rapturous Olympus

[Heta].
Exile Vilify

Theta.
Sublime/Oblivious

Iota.
Romantic ******'s American Dream

[Kappa].
Devise Your Own Philosophy

Lambda.
Wake Up "Mr. Freeman"

Mu.
Recurring (Socratic) Anachronism

Nu.
History Is Written, Rewrite Politics

Omicron.
Zero-Summing

Pi.
Listen To The Moon

[Qoppa].
How Many Dimensions

Rho.
Be The Compassionate Arbiter

Sigma.
Humanity Is A Joint Effort,
Mastery Is A Sole Exploit

Tau.
Some Sick Fiend

Upsilon.
Welcome To Wonderland

Phi.
Philosophy At A Rave

Digamma.
Thus "The Symbionts Were Born"

Chi.
Found In A Maze Of Spring Empathy

Psi.
Pharmahuasca Maelstrom Drank The Earth

Omega.
Ion Chaser Ate A Hurricane
{[Greek-Alphabet](Definite)}
topaz oreilly Dec 2012
Psi
The Fanzine said it would be something for the connoisseur a la mode de
glue sniffing Leeds yokels rampaging Bournemouth,
even the away supporters taches already looked ropey,
until the 'Pool headed in the only goal.
The claustrophobic fury was clearly palpable
and this feat would be sealed  later
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2016
when marco polo sailed to china,
kublai khan was the emperor of china.

or what other privilege can i speak of, if not that celebration
of the bilingual, there rooted, the sword in slavic
and the sheath in pseudo-Germanic;
for what violence is to come
it will always retract in the Germanic
for a time-period of two-faced thespian
pleasantries,
           without the need for pleasantries
already waiting bloodthirsty,
        as said, the common motto
more true now with ***** farms of turnip
donors than ever before,
science has become arrogant, almost religiously,
it's arrogant, it's arrogant, it's arrogant,
and because it's arrogant: it's blind.
       high expectations for words so grand they
fathomed nations to be used in between
kettles, teacups, knives, forks and napkins...
where's the equilibrium economy?
     well, for one this sort of work is deemed "work",
intellectualism is nothing in the post-Germanic
world of English and Americanism -
if you ain't singing (citing the motto): you
ain't thinking... for the quick buck, doctor.
it's sad and almost revealing,
          a cursed fate of our fathers' indentation
on the world...
                 you don't grow a beard to look smart
while holding a book using your upper-body
to wriggle the jig of a song, the vanity of having
a double chin...
       the principle of ensō is to have things intact,
ensō doesn't exist outside of poetry,
      you don't drink coffee in between and
then flick to a sitcom for a "creative" break
to what is: an already generic narrative.
prose is the excess of narration, there are sparks
along the way, but nothing as convincing
as Stendhal's omnus...
                and could i have simply abandoned
that quasi-epic poem of mine that's two days old?
only having realised that all said things prior
and now, subsequently, after are instilled within
the ensō principle that's less axe on the gallows:
and more guillotine; which translates into
symbols and the effectiveness of *less is more
,
what's the standardising canvas? alcohol,
i.e. proof.
               a poem can be nearing 100% proof,
something you'd use in a surgical theatre...
i have drank spirits in the 90 - 99% range...
          a poem can be considered to be in the >50%
range... after all... people are able to memorise
poems, or are intended to do so -
which is hard to conceive the Koranic attitude
toward poets, the Koran states an abhorrence
towards poets, in some surah of so-and-so number...
my problem is with the Hafiz: people who memorise
the Quran... as suggested from the above:
prose literature can be considered to be in the <50%
range... hence the need to extract spoilers /
quotes from prose books... something memorable...
and because prose is laden with too much
narrative lead, it sinks to the bottom,
into the unconscious, and is only revised within
dreams, when something synonymously-parallel
happens to us in your daily-narrated lives:
we are more prone to narrate than think
in terms of Jefferson and the light-bulb...
i wish i had the encyclopedic reference point where
the Quran explicitly states hostility toward
poetry... but thankfully the mere existence of
the Hafiz undermines the Quran as: the poetry
to end all poetry; and where does Stendhal
come into this? in the Red & the Black, the protagonist
is also a "Hafiz", in that he can recite the entire
Biblical text: by heart. i retain the this fact even
though the days spent reading that book
extended to many hours on the bus to school...
Julien Sorel / Ewan McGregor (in the realisation
of the book onto the screen)...
if the Quran attacks poets for their fickle-mindedness
i can only say: the mind is very literally fickle
in the first place, given:
a. the number of choices we can make, and
   b. the reversal of where the mind is embedded,
i.e. in the brain, and given the brain's complexity
and foundation in polymathic expressions
from the gymnastics of trivia, to the labours of
  singled-out interests... poets aren't fickle
  minded because they're poets,
   we're universally fickle minded, because the mind
is a fickle thing in the first place...
  to counter the complexity of the brain,
    only when the mind is found migrating into
the ******* region or the heart is there any sense
of determination to be seen...
clearly Muhammad migrated from the brain
   got himself a mini-harem and established a family,
****** Ali over on an empty promise and
immediately established a schism that took much
longer to be established in Christianity...
       i told you: my prejudices are personal,
they're not environment, i did have Muslim "friends",
i did read the Quran and i did sit in a Reagent's Park
mosque in my socks looking at the feng shui
minimalism... obviously the schism would come
from the place where a major element was used
in dressing up the mosques... persian carpets...
   and the fact that the Farsi loved their poetry...
the fact that the Quran is to be sang is basically
one poet, telling all others poets to come:
YOUR WORK IS ****!
                     that's feeble, esp. if you take the sword
out after when people tell you no.
   but that's what i don't understand, if the Quran
is so against poetry, doesn't the existence of
the Hafiz mean that it actually is poetry?
  could you find a team of such plonkers to memorise
a single chapter of Tolstoy's war & peace?
  i ******* well doubt it...
plus the whole mono-lingual attitude toward it
means for me to argue certain points with some
Sheikh Ali-Baba would means years lost
   to hark out a word of arabic...
      point being, any chance to learn a new optical
encoding of sounds is impossible,
the one i already have has eroded such a potential:
plus the fact that it's so different...
plus i spotted some anomalies in the system i'm
using: here's it's saying java, .dos, linux...
               oh don't feel left out from the computer
programming community: turn the cheek and
say in robo-slo-mo: psi-borg     (Ψ-borg):
it's the crucifix of the psychology community anyway (Ψ)...    
        i inherited the difference between
   s & ś                         a & ą -
or as one ironic German phrasing had it, a long long
time ago on a Catholic retreat in the south of France
(Taizé): vey didn't oonderstand my good Inglish aacent,
you know how Arnie sounds, right?
just like that... became the running joke for a few years...
you basically learn an accent having spotted
  diacritical markings... having been raised in
a phonetic-realm where diacritical marks are used,
and then growing up in a phonetic-realm where
they are completely disregarded... well,
it's not hard not sound English and then lurking
in the shadows if someone is calling your ethnic origin
as vermin... having such a kind remark as this one
to further the entertainment... i heard
that in America there's that thing called "white-privilege",
and that you can't be racist to a white person
if you're a white person... well... you won't be getting
any jazz and blues out of me sweetiepie, that's for sure:
politics, unfortunately; and what better way
to state politics than with poetry, or the tact within
poetry: telling someone to go to hell with them
anticipating the trip.
TV Sep 2014
A wave of probability
smashing straight into me
I'll probably go insane
but remain sane simultaneously
psi, c'est la vie
My free time has been dominated by Organic chemistry studies lately. so has apparently my subconscious. This may be my most complicated poem to date, if only for the nerdiness and science involved in it.
Whoever claimed sanity has no place
at the table of the gods
was an atheist.

Not to say I can't relate; but
getting lost has always been
my favourite game.

Psychedelics plead to me,
Join with us!
Be like a child again.

I shall use with care, I do swear.

I will learn something.

The advent of enhanced thought processing.
Psi/Sigh
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2015
i find this mentioned success found and expressed in the parameters of life,
nothing more than a philistine’s interpretation
of why la traviata resonates more profoundly than madam butterfly
when a girl does not use rhetoric to see the latter opera
but bows to the former in a sort of cognitive neglige,
so why do i find this mention of existential “success” so unprivileged
as to require a deviation from it and complete the individual?
think of the existential “success” as nothing more than:
a zoological phenomenon, the one chance to zoo-keep the dodo not executed,
most people will live in this safeguard,
they will forever remain the one example of continuity undisputed,
they will be safeguarded by the fact that countless examples have & will follow
them, and they will be petrified into ranks in a soldierly fashion
without moaning, for they are indeed the ones who reaped
the safeguard in the first place, the continuity must persist,
individuation must known nothing of what individuation is -
that process of self-depreciation as a worth in the worth of isolation -
they do exist in this safeguard not for any amusing qualities,
it’s the quantity of the escapade that’s amusing, amusement
based upon its success!
there's mr. and mrs. with 2.4 children,
and there's mr. barney and mrs. barney née barnacle
with an only child and a ticket to jerusalem.
so i digress now on the whim - if i were a sufferer of a medical condition,
a psychiatric one at that... would i have great or no insight?
i find it hard to concentrate on the theoretical side of things
without giving a chemical idle wave of the hand giving full
trust to the chemical cure... rather than a theoretical cure...
if i were truly a sufferer of a condition... would i theorise?
i guess i’d button up do my trouser zip up and take the chemical answer
as the “cure,” instead i decided to “cure” myself theorising,
which can’t make me a sufferer for all reasons stated by
an abstinence from the hippocratic trust... which isn’t really there...
hence the need to translate all this as: a hippopotamus oath,
the nearest noun next to dinosaurs... hip oh oh...
for why would anyone being a sufferer of a diagnosed condition
suddenly decide to theorise the symptom as a cure
rather than accept the cures given?
no sufferer of a condition accepts theory as a cure...
most just take the force-fed mechanisation of excessive use of
chemistry as if it was a choice of a beauty product...
yellows olanzapine and blues some other anti psi psi...
in summary... if i truly suffered i’d suffer without theoretical escapades, i'd take the cure and not bother theorising:
but since i don’t suffer from a false diagnosis i theorise...
sober enough to do so... even though drunk enough to enjoy the silence
and the holy lack of conversation...
i guess in depth, the migrant's ambition in me to be content with
arbeit macht frei... translated from doing construction work
with my father, or my specialisation in chemistry into
industrious writing patterns... a poem a day... let's
you throw an apple at a psychiatrist every other day.
Robert Salát Jan 2015
Šest tisíc mil asfaltu a prachu.
Kolik tisíc chlapů vydalo se na tu cestu?
Už dobře poznáš tu hranici strachu,
když blížíš se k proklatýmu městu.

Tam lidi neznaj slitování
a ženský neznaj lásku,
a ty proto nad svítáním
nosíš ocel na opasku.

A tak jedeš dál,
možná najdeš svoje sny.
Seš silnice král,
ale štvou tě pouštní psi.

Snad až si jednou spočineš
na lůžku z kapradin a mechů,
doufám, že pak nalezneš
klid hvězd, co ti poskytujou střechu.
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2017
the greeks worried about the word (λoγoς) -
come what may, but they did add
to their alphabet excess psyche distinctions...
ψικη? or πσικη?
              what i'm talking about is how
φoνoς emerged...
              the etymological origin of
tinnitus? tiny ear?
     i seem to have forgotten why i even bother
to use the dictionary these days:
well... mostly for etymological requirements...
on the spectrum of using language (god)
i put as much effort in the etymological
spectrum of events, as a physicist might
put into the pin-point of the big bang,
or a physician might put into a sore thumb
or a decaying tooth...
    what helped me to move away from the greek
conceptualisation of the λoγoς?
   their polytheism... they had too many words
and could not fathom a singleton
  of their polytheism, that could be equated
to will... or what became adapted by
darwinism's survival mechanisms / dynamos.
but i didn't arrive at the concept of
    φoνoς from λoγoς directly, by some "safe" route,
or a shortcut...    only via γνoσις (gnosis)...
     i read the arts, and i know they're not that
popular, and will seem rather quirky, or just
plain out-right weird...
            but they're there...
but so the "trinity"
                father λoγoς,
                                 son γνoσις
                                              the other, φoνoς.
it would help to mention that see the english language
as naked, given the diacritical attires of other
nations and the remnants of the latin optic of
encoded sound...
                i am also bound to say:
akin to sigma (Σ, σ, ς)... couldn't epsilon
   nibble at eta (H) and join ranks with it, on the aesthetic
premise that you'd end encoding words, such
      as plate (cermic) according to the aesthetic rule:
  Ε, ε, η?
                         only when greeks made too many
sharpened flint-spears of their alphabet do i see the picture
clearly: with the english having adopted no
                   φoνoς principles?
     well, i'm not into charlatan gnosis as such...
   i just "conjure" (speak) the word diagnosis and i know
that a gamma is said... i don't wish for the vogue
   of current times, e.g. (g)nome.
   what i am interested more (it probably won't shock
you and you will join me in the awe):
    the moon doesn't appear in the night sky every
single night like the sun might by day...
   i'm interested in the substance on the moon
  that acts like a mirror...
     sometimes the red moon, sometimes the canary
freckled biscuit...
         and at it's height platinum-white...
                             (tool really do a better version
of led zeppelin's no quarter... just saying)
but there must be a mirror like substance contained
in the geological construct of the moon that
acts like a mirror for the sun, you really can see
the dawn and dusk on the moon's surface...
look long enough straight into the sun and you
see ultra-violet vibrations... akin to the skeleton
of the moon at its zenith during the night;
but surely there is something very particular
in the geological spectrum that allows the moon's
surface to refraction... i hope i used the correct
word on this occassion..
  but as with the modulation of the greek original
(given the diacritical excesses imposed on it
   and the lack of it in english), i could extract
   a meaningful counter: the tetragrammaton...
or what's in english intended as aH           and Ha:
the gemini phonos of sighs and laughter...
   by basically invoking the sigma rule to eh?
    Σ, σ, ς /  Ε, ε, η                       : meaning the lower-case
eta is a shorter version of epsilon...
and like the aesthetic of the trinity of "satan" that's
sigma, it could mean shortening the greek alphabet
by 1... so from 24 letters (as if coincidental to hours
in a day), to 23 letters...
                      and i'm not even greek to propose
a justification for this revision.
                      but this also means why i couldn't
find the phonos equivalent to Y...
                         or why J is confrontational in the other
instance of latin...
                          Υγ                      or oog
so poot not pout or pulling rather than pool;
              i suppose there is not Y in greek as there is
in latin is the **** of ι (iota, as thus stated, with a . hovering
over it like a halo or a decapitated head;
the hideous "dance" of shiva and kali:
well "dance"... *******! fucky-fucky sucky-sucky)
           as such iota dominates what the greeks stress
in their primordial phonos... F (in latin terms)...
just F...             i once heard of the three Fs in greek:
  which wasn't true... someone thought
  it would be neat to add ψ (psi)
   to the coordinates of that might represent
   something akin to the origin of the man who'd see
this mistake θ, φ, ψ;
       psi is the odd one out: hence theology, philosophy...
and that annoying "darling" that's psychology;
as a logic that attempts to fathom the soul as a totality
of imaginable freedom, it seems very totalitarian in
its approach... it's practically a zoology to be honest...
cages... ego here, superego there, id over here...
                i really think that psychology has nothing
worthwhile to add at this moment in time...
                 not when on the other side of the argument
there is no soul, but presicely the counter-argument
         in all the ridiculousness of implanting a soul into
a ***** (white tadpole) and calling it a frog...
       i haven't seen a ribbit ever come from a tadpole...
like i never heard a thought enter a *****...
     it turns out to be bizarre, but then women dictate
the rule of thumb on the argument...
                               which is why the intellectual
development of people who argue that a ***** has a
soul (early foetal stages) begs the question:
        can that thing utter a sentence let alone take to
thinking? no... it's only a potential,
                           at best prescribed the symbol Λ
(in electricity denoted by V)...
                                        oh so many what ifs that come
with that... it's almost like ****** someone
to provide child alimony...
    and it sounds like that precisely...
prostitutes at least cream themselves up before having
*******...
      rapists from south africa?
                        they prefer to spike you with ******
and saddle on top of you with a dry *****...
                                god, the ****** disparity...
    one know and lubricate before *******, the supposed
"smart" girls who teach in boarding schools
                       have no idea what it's like ******* a dry ****;
i'd rather fist my **** any day of the week.
Curt A Rivard Sr Oct 2012
Finding you on your floor
As soon as I came to your door
Off you go for a look over
Something not right you didn't come home
PSI's on the gauge now tell the tale
Pressure building on your fragile mind
That had to be purged because you were very frail
Day after Christ’s birthday was the last we shared
Our last moments before man made you fall asleep
Ear to ear slice and then your skin is pulled down
Cutting wheel now powered up and on
Making a score line with uncountable RPM's
Stainless steel mallet is now tapping your shell open
Exposing all the danger lurking deep inside
Golf ball tumor leach ******* from your bodies core
Razor sharp suckers with roots buried in deep
You had no choice in the matter
It was your destiny it was your fate
All because it was found to late
Today is my Birthday and I miss getting those cards where you called me Curtis
R.I.P Gram you are still missed did you feel me in your presence
This morning as I walked on your sacred ground?
(CARSr 10-03-12)
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2020
i said to her, prior -
i've just found a gem of a song...
alterslied by walther von der vogelweide,

how would it not remind me
of the time - the spring on the balcony -
the suffocating perfume of
the marrow yet to be or just born
in the calf -
         or the perfumery of mahogany
of cherry not yet a chair or
a table... in that: her blossom as if...
more tender than any japanese
porcelain or for that matter: geishas'
milky leather... warm: for still worn
cloaking the sinew, the **** and spew
of intestines...
            and the last signature in bone...
still walking... calling the moon
a... fickle dunked biscuit...

  she was blooming beneath me...
this cherry tree - and but one among
the rest of the plethora of scents...
      still that book i was reading:
Henryk Sienkiewicz - knights of the cross -
the teutonic knights -  Krzyżacy -
          and of course the screen-adaptation...
one by Aleksander Ford...
    
the veneer corpse riddle -
                haunting as glass
with its imitation of water
                  or see through
as a veil of Baghdad's exquisite harem
of an abiding: sheikh or imam -
            piercing eyes that know no
depth of sleep -
                   stolen light: as what i call
dreams -

but i was "thinking" along the lines
of...
             neoplatonism came from
Plotinus reading Plato - basics...
         Bertnard Russell can cover the rest...
but i was "thinking" of... a neo-cartesian model...
way before it might become ideological
and an 'ism...
                      how does the original begin?
dubito, ergo cogito, ergo sum...
   not much of doubt these days...
to doubt these days is to almost entertain
belief: or at least: the plethora of emotions
that hitchhike their way for the heart
to carry... it's not an outright negation...
doubt, that is...

           then again: doubt is a double-edged
sword... it cripples those that believe
as it does ******* those who disbelieve...
        
   but i can hardly want to begin from doubt...
i've heard it somewhere...
like a hindu or a buddhist mantra...
i remember...
i remember...
    i remember...
                 i did link memory to a sort of...
cameo cinema of my place in this world...

perhaps... if i begin with: dubito - i doubt...
i don't see how i can translate myself into
a concreteness of: cogito - i think -
therefore into: sum - i am...
        by now thought is a fickle aspect of
my summa summarum...
i'd very much like to begin with...
at least one aspect of time being invoked...
doubt... is timeless -
                        thought is timeless and spaceless...
existence: is both...

i'd begin my neo-cartesian route by
stating an alternative route...

memoro, ergo cogito, ergo sum...
i remember, therefore i think, therefore i am...
doubt is a fickle creature...
a pretty creature... a peacock...
which... is hardly a phoenix...
     can any so-called editorial section journalists...
the opinion pieces journalists...
the dialectical-phobia-prone saturday journalists...
be called... journalists?
      
  are they really journalists?
to have... opinion columns in newspapers?
just asking...
i never thought they were...
   ideologue ditto-heads comes to mind...
how can: thinking translate itself into:
the pivot of out of every instance:
this insistent paraphrase...
      
       i never find myself shackled to thought...
esp. not by doubt...
           the labours of the liar to think...
when all has been thought...
but i am gladly thinking when shackled
to memory - when there's some narrative involved...
when there's the cameo cinema of memory
and i find myself: a good man...

i was once accused of "liking the sound
of my own voice"...
god forbid - but with regards to liking
my given names?
how doesn't this sound:
but it already does: Conrad von Heiligkreuz...
second name at baptism -
and i am... von heiligkreuz...
it's a region in Poland...
       there is a Świętokrzyskie Voivodeship...
i have a fetish for german...
and it's not like matthew isn't a loan
name to be given - origin in hebrew...
but at least i have a past -
to live under the guidance of the names
bestowed upon one...
in good company with ol' von Wallenrode...
C... K... does it matter?

i do like my given names...
hell... i'd like it even more if i was
Ezra rather than Matthew...
more so if i was a Nikita...
fluid non-binary names... don't you think?

because i am thinking of germany
from the medieval period -
             or at least: what became of barbarossa
drowning and being pickled...
and how... prussia and lithuania were
just gagging for a stab in the dark
for an already adrenaline fuelled junkies
of the passion of the cross...
or *****... i never know which the jester,
marquis the sade asked for...

foundation of knowledge: yes...
dubito, ergo cogito, ergo sum...
but i'm not here to know more than what's
already known - where does knowledge
lead these days? pub-quizes and trivia...
regurgitation of facts...
i want to find an alternative to knowledge...
a: transcendence of morality -
a leverage of my remains that cannot
be confined to a bone -
to a name - i'd wish for an escape
with and through an epitaph...

                     or - anon.
                       as some works are cited...
prompter of the theatre -
     in the prompter's box when the actors
would forget their lines...
ah... the critique of the proposition with
the presupposition of a "i"...
                  "it" is also a presupposition -
nothing can be a pronoun...
                                but i'm not here to make
a genesis of man via: dubium...
nor via reverentia...
     i'm not a child any more...
i've visisted the underworld and came back
with dreams -
and to the world i left and came back
to... yes... i have been here before...
    to begin with... memoriae... though...
that's enough to subsequently think,
to subsequently be...
   otherwise why would the powers that be...
make it a crusade in the realm
of pedagogy
to pour corrosive juices into our brains
with all that encyclopedic *******,
arithmetic when there are calculators,
to exhaust our very personal capacity to
remember?
travesty i yelp!

                   hell: i'll even yarl!
                save your memory...
it will give you more than doubt in what
has to become you -
   or whatever happens to thinking -
insert any number of blanks when a concrete
translation of thought into will was lost
to "thinking" / day-dreaming...

but at least: the cameo cinema of memory...
10 very focused memories...
enough... and these to be kept unchanged...
sharpened like flint...
polished like silver...
             bitten like metal...
                     worshipped like ink poured
into chiselled labyrinths of timber...
                            
                      to wake from having to inherit
the 20th century from others...
              my 20th century begins circa 1989...
but it also begins circa 1944...
and circa 1937...
                        circa 1982...
                                            circa 1998...
             circa 1994...
                           but it is never...
the history of a people that is...
             but my slot... memory: as personal
as thought... i have seen how memory can be
usurped... can be... the focus of saboteurs...
          i'm missing two nouns at present...

to remember something from aeons beyond...
i cannot doubt these two words i am thinking of...
but i don't remember them...
then again: is memory such a fickle bride
of thought?
            isn't doubt more fickle?
                    
ah! subverters! well... saboteurs...
         and that second word?
it's a psychiatric term: of implanting false
memories... regression!
                 or something... but if psychiatry
is making an attack on the faculty of memory...
and pedadogy has already poured
carboxylic acid into our brains with education
that's... only for the purpose of ensuring
there are pedagogues...

                       yes... and the prospect of me becoming
a father, let alone a grandfather...
is for mickey mouse to become a ******* nun...
but you'll never know...

memory is under attack...
doubt... well you can doubt whatever the hell
you want: deny or believe whatever you want...
mind you...
if it "all" begins with:

    memoro, ergo cogito, ergo sum...
and psychiatry and the great psi (Ψ) of psychology...
what sort of: "critique of the proposition with
the presupposition of a 'i'" is there?
when you have the practice of regression /
false memory implants? and all that pedogogic juice
to boot?

better keep yourself to memory...
you never know: doubt can take care of itself...
it doesn't have to translate into thinking
into being...
but sure as **** and sherlock 'olmes to boot...
your memory needs defending...
to be sure... a + b + a + c + u + s = ?
                         well... sure... 1 + 1 = 2...
        to put to memory... how something sounds...
into writing... onomatopoeia...
well... it's not one of those: knock-knock...
who's there jokes...
                  ghosts don't knock on doors...
they slide their chains across the wood...
rhapsody in any ghoul's adventure of:
revision of the taste of morello cherries...
there will be no revision of the taste of morello cherries!
that sort of sour is one and only,
and it would better define someone's last
breath on this rock and couldron of constellations
come night... than...
                              an adieu with a kiss.
katie Jan 2014
i'm sending you
my silence
at 160 PSI
enough to break a bone
or a heart

use it
press it into your wrists
uncurl your fingers
let go

let me go
Martin Narrod Dec 2014
I couldn't see anyone
I couldn't touch anything. I tried to reach the bottom, but it just wasn't there. There wasn't a kelp forest, the Empire state building would have really only stood one and a half of what they said was going to be three or four times what it was. There weren't any smoke vents or even hot springs. It was like looking for Earth from space but looking the other way.
Saturday, December 27th we drove three blocks in your car, with a dummy in the backseat rocking ready-to-wear. You asked if we should put her back inside of your room, but after I taught you to fill your tires between 3.5-4 psi, $1.50 later we realized we didn't even want to begin to try.

Shocked

that I took the Blue Line and even
transferred to a bus.
All along I would have taken any L
if I thought it would have
brought us more love.

Two hours later the devil is riding me, and I'm carrying a sickle blade at my hip. A simple gift for a single father who unexpectedly remodeled where I live.

Deep black and blue. Descending into the bathykolpian abyss. Five small black plastic garbage bags filled with 8-year old kid.
*bathylkolpian - meaning  'deep-bosomed', the layer of the ocean that is furthest from the surface
Mateuš Conrad Dec 2019
i can clearly hear how english mutates...
a book review by a channel... better than food...
the book he's reviewing is goETHE's captain faust:
and the non-avengers...
but no...

i don't hear: stick an umlaut anywhere you please...
i, "for some reason"... do not hear
a: Θ... a göethe... or a goëthe (ladin alphabet -
the germans know about this)...
there is this... goe-ether association...
it's sometimes a riddle of goë, göe...
or quiet simply...
the remains of the ancient latin grapheme (œ)?

educated people make this distinction -
and they'll catch "you" out on it...
since... they represent the Hyacinth Bucket brigade...
gynocentrism doing a snail-trail:
one step forward... two steps back...
it's beside what the linguist "says":
a bucket is a bucket a ***** is a *****...
otherwise? glorifying such a harsh reality
of a surname like: bucket... but not beckett?
no... "samuel"? well then...
it's not a bucket if it's somehow
translated via chernobyll as: bouquet...
is it?! is it?
because even in french: they self-cannibalise...
i.e. they "eat" some letters...
they write one language: but speak another...
what isn't bucket what is nonetheless
bouquet? well... isn't it: bouque-?
it's not even that... boo-k for the ones that
still hear... and can write grafitti schlang...
in some variation of a german...

becuase educated people can get away
with treating GOETHE...
as?  '/ˈɡɜːrtə, ˈɡeɪtə'...
or in simple-me-and-you being bilingual...
fiddling around we arrive at:
Göerte... which is "said"...
but this "lunatic asylum" exception has
to be written: with a clarity of a *******
Greek THETA... a fin! the end!
which always makes lying easier...
when you can: say (a)... but... but...
imply (b)... like some "metaphor"...
some forever useful tool of nuance...
some "spectacle"...
it's easier to lie when... you say (a)
but are "implying" (b)...
then you can blame it on...
not allow the literacy of the masses:
quite as much... you require... exceptions
to the rule... to **** out the lesser educated
"people"...

don't get me started...
born? Ostrowiec Świętokrzyski...
perhaps i should have never left...
3 years in Edinburgh...
over a month in St. Petersburg...
somewhere in Paris, Stochholm, Venice...
Athens... Belgrade from a distance...
Amsterdam... two weeks in Kenya...
and a nonchalant attitude surrounding
London... a strong distaste for Warsaw...
a myth of Cracow...

and no, i haven't been everywhere...
but... after a while... does it really matter
where you go, if you're bringing
expectations with you?
expectations and postcards?
clichés? clichés expectations and postcards?
and... a whole lot of strangers
you haven't met?
tourism and: feeding the ghost town
mentality... perhaps a ghost town would be
something to behold... instead of this...
atypical metropolitan casualness of avoiding
each other... busier busier: and no more
busy than once pronounced dead...
but wait for it: you're at least given a "scene"...

but no... i know one language that
makes pedantic orthographical observations...
but i also know a language that...
write one way... speaks another...
whichever way, best, to suit it...

and you "know" it would only be Fa-Ber'g -
no... borrow the j- from je suis...
if that last E was not an acute É...
but an grave È (grave... or? gráve...
grrrr'av... not a hey hey grave...
GRA-Vity)...

hence? my point exactly..
if the diacritical markers are respected
in fwench... with an acute É and a grave È...
why do "we" need... I(i) and J(j)?
why not... I(ı) and J(ȷ)?

besides... ever imagine writing an autobiography
like a Knausgård... defender of the runes
for a sentence in volume 1...
major google-maps ****** *** volume 2...
i write that with a "glee"...
i mean... you can be immediately be put off
writing an autobiography...
just to avoid the mediocre descriptive elements
of using something more complicated
than a hammer...
for an otherwise... less than a hammer's worth
of banality: evaluation of modern banality /
procrastination...
no one we have been given these complicated
tools... and to the best of our abilities we
best procrastinate, using them...
i hardly think a hammer would be used
to... pretend to play the drums...
but yes: Knausgård... the defender of runes...
irony... but the mr. google-earth guy to turn to...

yes... and before i discovered a past...
there were the runes... and there was
forever this latin morph of the barbarians
"thieving"... but there was also the glagolitic script...
apparently! and before that there was the greek!
and... somehow... i did arrive at having
to master some vague understanding of
mother cyrillic!

- but prior to... did you know what
slavs love cabbage? all the pakistani point this
out: slav love cabbage!
today? i watched the film Layer Cake
and made some cabbage soup...
Layer Cake being? the pre-to-a-bond-film
taster for the actor Daniel Craig...
it was hardly a Guy ******* Ritchie film...
woz itz? but... a decent actor advert...
with "hindsight"...
if i watched the film then...
or as i whatched the now...
and all the known actors jumped the train...
well... cabbage soup... base?
a decent polish / jewish chicken broth...
most of the chicken goes into a ***...
except the *******: you make a *******
roulade with that...
and proper potato bakes...
potato bakes like Heston Blumethal
boils a soft egg...
tatties in cold water... until they start boiling...
then you hunch over them...
boil them for a decent fiver...
turn off the heat...
again... hunch over them...
like an inquistive condor waitig for
the water to stop bubbling...
asking the question: are we all ready...
for the oven? yes, my toy soldiers,
are we, ready?

apparently they taste like christmas
tatties in waistcoats!
my my... what a lovely affair!
cabbage soup? you really need a complete
lack of imagination and a work-around
using root veg...
the european way...
but what is preferred is ensuring
you make a cabbage soup like...
a slav treats a cabbage like a frenchman treats
an onion: you suffocate it...
an hour minimum...
until the crass ******* boils out...
and you're left with...
a sweetness... and softness...
bay leaf all-spice (english spice) included...
some kiełbasa (etymology?
root... kieł- derived from the plural?
kły... canines... suffix -basa?
baza - base... canine-base...
something that requires an understanding
that elevates the dog, "debases" the man...
no quran reader will understand this:
for lack of a better word: shaming food...

where would pakistani cuisine be...
without the pantheon of hindu spices?!
i'll eat like a dog and in so doing:
live a tier above a king...
i still find it highly unimaginative...
to call one fruit "forbidden"
and one meat: "impure"...
whatever Gabriel spoke to Muhammad...
never really explained crab meat...
crab meat crab meat...
the Maldive muslims eat crab meat...
what's crab meat again:
when it concentrates a comparison
with ol' porky porky? scavenger of the seas...
what's with the muslim beef on pork?
and god was critical...
of his perfected animal worthy of
consumption... looks pretty silly from
Beijing... so Beijing is ensuring that Muslims
"look silly"... well... "live"... silly...
so god was so... this that and the other...
then he lent his "all knowing wisdom" and said...
no... this one animal... which you can...
butcher and make use of...
all that's missing is the oink and the hoofs!
or whatever it was: i can't eat the oink,
the grunt remain's the bacon's owner...
and perhaps the "hoofs"...
but such a pristine animal...
tapeworms come... much larger in size...
from aquatic flesh... so...
tic-toc... tic-toc... pull a sly porky on me or...
Gabriel my ***...

the Pwophet sez!
much easier these days: to, "get away" with "it"...
camel jockeys turned oil barons...
yachts... whizzed-up-*******-white-****-****...
and never... the odd-ball from
that long extended lineage of the family
living with a cuddles *****, soft toys...
east of Beirut...
that pencil girth's woe explosion in the sky...
"built" by people...
who employ slave Bangladeshis for
a sunday's worth of sabbath cricket in the desert...
i thought that deserts were only good
for waiting for qurans and dinosaur blood
and myopia and... the odd dehydration
hallucinations?!

i'll eat some sushi to sober up before
i accompany my mother: circa 60 getting
a hip replacement surgery done on her...
i'll sober up: but first things first:
spew...

mind you... below you will find some
ancients inscriptions...
i had to wonder: if the precursor text
of the anglo-sphere people...
the germans and "celts" of the british isles...
the welsh... the scandinavians...
was bound to runes...
before the latin men came...
what did "we", the slavs, use?

before the greeks allowed us entry into
the realm of mediating the otherwise:
quasi-fathomable?
cyrillic is what came: AFTER...
but there was a prior...
i'm no longer interested in the prior...
no more than i am interested in greek...
i once slurred russian cyrillic
for not having any diacritical markers...
i knew they had them...
but that they were... crude...
for lack of a better word...

how does that theory sound?
the: ex Africae omnis est Africanus...
sorry... what?!
giving my scrutiny of phonetic encoding...
am i closer to speak...
or thinking, and if not thinking,
then, reading?!
by the looks of it...
i devolved from encoding in
chinese... perhaps not so much:
sanskrit... but i most certainly suffered
moving across Siberia: obviously: not "i"...

mind you: i've looked at "it" and thought...
me, reproduce? add a stranger to the equation
of my family? i'm just happy to end
the libeage... thank god i don't have
some inheritence complex abounding...
no expectation, no "legacy" akin
to a surname like Rhodes (circa NY)...
i was born with one ****** surname,
which changed... i'll die with another ******
surname: that never made it to a status
of Eshlert... nonetheless! i'll leave...
like a ******* Einstein of an acronym:
E = MC... good for me! bravo ty! bravo ja!

beside the egyptian hieroglyphs...
i'm yet to read something...
from... Congo... perhaps i'm just too ignorant...
or the -igger shade was just too much
that it... grabbed my attention and
i forgot that the victim olympics didn't
happen every 4 years...
but every... whimsical time-span of...
a quarter of the length of a fortnite...

whatever: all out of africa implies...
i'm writing in a devolved chinese...
frozen bits across the siberian fickle desert...
next stopover? Novosibirsk!
no need for pyramids in Novosibirsk...
no "awe" to be found...
when you're toe-dead numb from
frost bite.... is there?!

my letters are a sieve... they allow meaning
through like hands praying to cusp water!
it's, the, reality...
you have ****-wit socialists on one side...
and then... this hyper-inflated
darwinism is all historism on the other...
middle ground, people!
"democracy"! i stand stand both the marxism...
or the darwinism... but arguments failed...
or? we can have the extreme of both ends
of the argument! enough of reading
Pasternak will teach you...
hey... shhh shhh... the collective can
congregate any minute now...
they don't need that many intelligent people
to rally them...
what your, "your" side needs, though?
if enough brass people: stupid enough
to entertain, to lulluby...
em... that's now much to "go on"... is it?
the intelligent with pour gasoline
on a fire...
the entertainers will simply pour
cold milk into a saucepan that contains
milk you're warming to...
melt some butter some honey and an egg yolk
to self-remedy: devoid of big pharma influences...
a witches' brew for a cold and soar throat...

side note: do i "worry" about not having children?
if i lived on the Faroe islands,
Greeland, Iceland, Norway -
i most probably would probably mind...
small town mentality: enlarged...
then again: my family, "my" and "family"
is not exactly accomodating...
why am i not spending time with my grandparents?
at least one side... the "patriarchal" side
drops off: accomodating the madonna anyways...
a sister (my mother) and a brother (my uncle)
are waging a war...
this... "eastender" soap opera is...
i don't have the finances to grativate away
from it...
enter children? and they'd be more ******
up than i already am with my libido
and no outlet... i've stopped seeing prostitutes:
no because i felt "bad":
that one time we only pretended to be
leeching / kissing oysters just because
i forgot to trim my ***** hair:
like some western feminist argument
about the exploitation of romanian women "matters"...
when... the labourer drones of men
of building sites... coming in to work...
hangover... might perhaps... stop...
fuelling the english lush economy...
i didn't want to have children because:
family-wise? things, "things" are messy...
and there's no magic carpet to get me out
of here... not when the last surviving remnant
of a past... i.e. my grandmother,
talks to my dementia riddled grandfather
with the words...
and he stresses them: you no good...
skurwysyn!
elaborate? sure! z-kurwy-syn...
from-a-*****-son..
my grandfather's mother...
well... let's put it in facts...
my grandfather is an illegitimate (
oh **** me, i spelled that right, drunk)
son... his mamma then married...
the father of this illegitimate child...
was a polyglot... spoke 7 languages...
emigrated to the U.S. of A...
remarried, fostered some shards of glass...
and sent his last postcard...
from Niagara Falls... before jumping
into the kamikazee sun...
oh my family is perfect...
then this mother of his...
had two children with a man...
who would beat my grandfather...
which is why he became a "pioneer"
coal-miner aged 15 or 14 or 16...
then this one kid ended up being
fostered... then this "watermelon" of a kid
(nickname) came out...
from a love affair... and when the "*****" died...
his quasi-foster father lived with him...
and in this custard: he...
the father semi-god-know's what...
abused the old man for putting up with
him as a love-child: in wedlock...
and... well thank god there was
no epitaph to begin an end with...

me and children? i am gracious,
i am kind... i don't want them to inherit this
history... which is worse than
a history of germany... at least those *******
had the nazis... which is worthwhile
in terms of exploiting them via video games
as those: evilz badz guyz!

i always think: the sooner i'm dead -
the more chances i have
to either dream... or breathe...
currently i quasi the former and accept
the reality of the latter...
but me and children? my, own, brood?
em... for some capitalistic driven darwinism
pressure ploy of narrative?
taxes and retirement plans for
the western: placebo: aged?
grand'm'ah and gwand'p'ah not fit under
the same roof... set them on the butcher's
path toward the "shop" of wrinkle
and: pristine effortless economic
endeavor... the pig's the lot...
economic meat and... about as barren as a dinner
plate scooped up for examination
once a pauper sat before it to supper...
ingenious! if only, if only we were all born
into a Charlie ******* Dickens' lot of life!
then, only then, we could, we could
perhaps, perhaps: write about it!

i have seen how people have lived their lives...
how... they had wish to write about it...
which always involved a lot of other people -
movie scripts written by directors
and not... actual manuscripts of scripters...
they would write... but then:
started to gag from **** at the mere of thought
of being: brutal, honest, honing...

people either write an honest autobiography,
they ghost it: have someone write a biography,
they write an autobiography that's
designated as: tabloid...
but most importantly... they forget...
a "Moscow"...
when i was in Moscow... i felt like i was
in London for the very first time...
a last time...

i did mention that i didn't envy the russian
diacritical approach...
the odd: miss and "there"...
but no... i didn't envy them...
to me there was no russian orthography...
there is an orthography: which you mind
above any metaphysical discussion...
when, and only when... aesthetics comes
into play...
i.e. rz = ż and ó = u and ch (cerp i ha) = h (samo ha)
this is how orthography is born...
sorry... i'm too "busy" dealing with
orthographic ******* to even mind
your "metaphysics" or a death of (it): interim...

as i stood at the feet of the tower of babel...
i started to su doku the pieces that
pleased my eyes... and the pieces...
left in leftover arabic squiggles of
the remnants of the 20th century...
and the new emergence of environmental
beijing free-of-syndromes to spawn
the 21st... or...
the child of a one-child-state-policy
without a Beijing... only a gradual evaluation
of... concerns for...
not giving birth to yet another ****-wit
of the world's counter to: another
****** of a gullible persuasion...
given that law is blind...
he must have been born: deaf!

- you didn't see me coming;
i didn't even see you leave... -

since the greek letters i tend to most "forget"
are:
- gamma lower-case (γ) because
of the upper-case upsilon (Υ)
- lower-case zeta (ζ) becaue
of the lower-case "11" (ξ)
- eta, lower-case (η) is no real grief
with lower-case EPSILON (ε)
until... you enter the cyrillic
"debate" of е and э...
- lower-case NU (ν) and lower-case
UPSILON (υ)
- Ξ (Θ, Φ) i.e.: XI, PSI, CHI, PHI...
return: that first 'un' is an ale'ks...
alex... but it's not an X in the way that
CHI expresses itself in CHurCH...
lay-teΞ...
- then again... greek orthography begins
in SIGMA... those... quasi-germans...
those remnants of the northern / teutonic
crusade... those Pruσσianς...
or... Prußianς...
the greek F and the greek "F"...
key into a keyhole: Φ...
key turning in a keyhole: Θ...
the iota of four uses... Θ, Φ, Ξ... Ψ...

but that's only the greek... i will not touch
on the glagolitic... until, barely skimming
the draft months earlier...
until i come with my own diacritical markers
and show you: how i was wrong...
yes... the russians do use these markers...
but they, mostly... do not "accent" them...

because i'm no Ezra Pound i didn't have
to imagine going as far back
as the Taoist ideogram...
because i remained bound to the anchor
of europe and...
i really didn't find anything of worth
in africa encoding: silence into their
verbiage with anything:
beside the odd spell of hieroglyphs...
so? i am not an Idaho man...
or whatever mid-western miss-western
******* the genius came from...

i don't have an ideogram:
i have a synonym... the sound is exactly
the same... but Charon 'ave their eyes!
mind you...
ądam and ęwa are off limits...
as is: ł... then again: given that i write in english...
em... "yes, and no"...

but here's my rubric... a rubric implies:
i will not narrate this crap:

don't get me started on the russian variations
of Y... i once said... because the greeks had
names for their letters... and the romans didn't...
well... in western slavic: Y "why, I" has a name:
e'GREK... iGrek... e and i are interchanged
between the western slavs and the islanders...
but the russians?
let me Shakespeare that for you:
pre-scriptum - don't ask me...
how oh how a german umlaut infiltrated
the alphabet: i blame catherine the great...
you have...

е (ye)
ё (yo)
й (-y-) - which acts like a "ȷUDAS"
ы (ý) - alt. to? ıGREK
ю (yu)
я (ya)

all that's missing is a: иы variation?!
let me check my pentagram of vowels...
e, o... u, a... oh right... IO-T'AH-T'AH-T'AH...
sinking the ******* POTEMPKIN!

it's for the best: i'm entrenched in two languages...
which makes me "schizophrenic" /
bilingual... ergo? i have to write in at least:
four... pepper in some latin etc.....
and modern slang? i need that...
and some german... and perhaps a dash
of Gaelic... and some scandi-navigational
pseudo-romancing the rosetta stone...

the rest is quiet "simple"...
a french-atypical acute... because there's no gr'ah-v'eh!
grave ole...
and a dot... like the dot used for no real purpose
in english...

i.e. ь involves the acute...
while the ъ involes the "horde" symbol...
either the dot above the Z in ż or the caron
above the R: ř...
alternative interpretations invoke
even more: 'hide and seek" mechanisms
of the russian Y...
  объект: interJEct with an obJEct...
thus? there just seem to be gradations
of hiding a why (y) with its added vowel...
and its mutant й... crescent mongol moon...
and all the rest of "it"...
since when you "borrow": yew borrow...
you get something along the lines
of: e.g.:

ć.        ць: c.f. surnames ending with -CKI
ń.       нь
ó.      "u" or? Loonin...
ś.        cь
ź.        зь
dz.     ž (dzik - boar - the wild adjective is a tautology)    
ż.      ř       rz   (зъ) or? ж...
ł.       woad... łagodny (he - gentle)
                        łagodna (she - gentle)
š.      sz.      ш             (sh)
č.      cz.      ч               (ch... you're not foreign
to graphemes... mr. Æ ms. Œ...
you simply haven't seen it applied
to consonants... only vowels!)
щ     šč     (szczypta - pinch -
a germanic, saxon "ch" is a cz...
or a caron above the C...
ch' ch'.... akin to the caron above the S...
sh' sh'... so far away from "god": YHWH...
yet so close, so, close!)
ha ha... a "dangling bit"...
and i thought the russians weren't
good at hiding "things"... from ш to щ
you have hidden: a caron a "c"...
a ****'s CHeap... in a dangling "left-over"...
of an otherwise caron S... heap of SH SH ****...

in terms of the cerp and ha and samo ha?
the greek χ (chi) comes into play...
but not like a cheeze...
more like a vowel-catcher breath...
eerie as ****... a HA HA with...
cHA cHA! i.e. like the surds you allow
hindu words access to: gnostic -
'nostic... or... knife... i.e. 'nife...

it's no surprise for me, now...
out of all the black caribbean kids,
the indian and pakistani,
the africans... i was one of the first
to: come out swinging from under
the iron curtain:
distrust levels? high... near almighty...
not enough "japanese" in me
to squander a late debt from
Hiroshima or some other etc.

in some remote original draft...

as ever, i drink, and am a nobody, but then i find myself inclined to look upon the god of gods: whatever remains of worth for the phonetic encoding... whether latin, greek, rune, cyrillic, or ⰒⰑⰃⰀⰐ ⰒⰉⰔⰏ (another googlewhack)... the glagolitic phonetic encoding... sure, first they'll ban the runes in sweden, before realißing that... there's another alphabet... the glagolith...
                  Ⱉ = Ω, given Ѡ = ω...
         this alphabet has been suppressed, long enough!
to be honest? i've never seen a more beautiful letter,
anywhere, other than in the glatolith...
     Ⰿ = M = ᛗ...
                      maybe that's why i like my given names
so much...
                            ⰏⰀⰕⰅⰖⰞ
                 i too! i too have a past!
             i don't need to peer into pseudo-arab ***
the quran religiosity of hieroglyphs
of the northern africans, camel jockeys!
                             there's, oh there's so much
more at stake than the runes...
                what of the Kiev Rus vikings?
this, this is their language:
                ⰕⰑ          "ⰏⰑⰆⰅ"          (może = maybe)    
(to = this)
                                                   (ⰜⰀ = trzeba, trza /
                                                            tsa)­
            ⰕⰔⰑ (tsa)           ⰃⰀ (ga)     ⰂⰀⰓⰉ (vari)
               (gadać = converse... gavari)

    Ⰴ (d)                ⰆⰫⰕ (żyt = fathoming life)

                             ⰆⰫⰕ (worthwile noting:
this is out lot of, a, life)...

      ⰛⰫⰛⰍⰀ (szyszka = cone, of the ᚦᛁᚱ /
                                     ⰡⰑⰄⰟⰀ - fir /
                              jodła tree)

see, i can't solve crossword puzzles...
      i don't know where i would begin,
fathoming this sort of "plaything" thesaurus...
i can play a solitaire mahjong,
i can solve you a su doku puzzle
without wanting to compensate myself
by competing...
                  
   but i do know...
                    what conjured the atom,
the letter?
  what conjured the atom, the letter,
and subsequently, the alphabet?
        noun...
                  the cipher conceptualißation
of making a name, smaller,
so small, in fact...
that letter emerged, and names were
no longer indicative...
of a meaning...
  so much so, that units were
formed, fathomed...
and when merely giving names
to these units, akin to the greeks,
alpha...
        which had to become a-lpha...
and beta had to become b-eta...
          well... only thanks to the latin men...
they became songs...
sing-alongs...
   very much thanks for the H vowel
catcher of the hebrew god...
ah... said the castrato...
  b'eeh sang the castrato...
           em...
  obviously the devil managed to keep
some of the letters...
z'ed...
                 it's still bewildering...
how the latin men "reinterpreted"
the northern runes...
   as the greek men "reinterpreted"
the north eastern glagolitic script...
and to think! to think!
    Ⱃ = R = ρ = rho...
         but what happened, "elsewhere"?
ᚱ = R... but... but... where's the trill?
R, as a letter, looks like it's about
to hide a leg... and start rolling...
ripping apart all other onomatopeias
associated with the rattle of a rattlesnake,
or the sound it could make,
to associate itself with the sound
of water boiling... where did that "go"?
with the french hark "innovation",
and the english tongue...
being bitten and left numb by
a tarantula?!
                      
  point being... i never imagined myself
much of an archeologist...
i always found:
  if you state your "necessary" freedom
to speak?
you're a tongue inside one cranium,
at a particular time, in a universal space...
but, like kierkegaard,
you care more about a freedom to think?
i'm "here", i'm "there", i'm "i'm"
like heidegger might state...
                  using this very modern
language that's english...
          but then sliding back into...
an obscure region of history...
      in two places at once...
        at a universal moment in time,
in a particular space...
                   talking exhausts me,
whenever i start speaking for more than
ten minutes,
there is a cotton mouth infestation,
my tongue turns into a serpent about
to shed a layer of its skin,
and, if i'm lucky,
i will not swollow the tongue...

                    and why wouldn't the runes
be more protected, but currently under
siege -
             both the latin text and the greek
text (respectively),
had the ambition of performing an
x-ray on the runes and the glagolitic texts,
treating them as pseudo-hieroglyphics...

but they found similarities,
   which made this foreign phonetic
encoding systems relateable...

ᚠ = F
                ᚢ = U         (copernican "up-side-down")
ᚨ = A (strange sort of arithmetic, / \
                                              )
               ­ ᚱ = R (d'uh)
   ᚺ = H...
           ᛁ = I
               ᛋ = s
                ᛏ = t (what's with the "bending knee",
so much for the supposed: "arrow"),
               ᛒ = B...
           ᛖ = Σ = E...
                   ᛗ = M...
                   ᛚ = L...
                  ᛟ = o - crude version of circle...

so? the latin men had an easier way to
fathom the runes, and ingest them
into the x-ray vision of post-latin...
   the greeks with the glagolitic script?
much harder...

         Ⱂ = Π = P = ρ (rho)
                 Ⰰ = A = ᛉ = Z...
             Ⱇ = φ = ᚦ = θ...
                             Ѡ = ω...
                Ⱑ = A...
                          Ⱔ = ε....
                                            Ⱚ = θ...

but i agree... you couldn't get "our"
peoples to where we are now,
with these pseudo-hieroglyphics...
   after all: Ⰿ (M) is a beautiful letter...
in glagolitic terms...
          but... it's too complicated for us,
at this moment in time...
it might have had all the necessary
practicality in its necessary time...
that it was allocated to...
but... given people these days
are looking at X-|ɔ\
                              /
\ /_ / ?
                            how ******* hard must
it have been, when,
the phonetic encoding,
was as hard as it, to now, us,
it seems?!
                   so... whatever is happening
in sweden, right now?
       i'm not bemaoning it,
   i have a tattoo... it reads: Sienkiewicz...
the swedish deluge of 1626–29... a.d.,
          **** it, ban the runes...
i've "just" discovered the gagolitic phonetic
encoding, the sort of **** that
st. cyril and methodius had to work with,
and it wasn't as easy as translating /
incorporating the runes...

                     oh sure, i'm waiting...
                 first they ban the runes...
   then they'll have to learn something akin
to the glagolitic script...
             returning back to their x-ray
latin lettering...
                       i still can't believe that
james joyce got away with writing finnegans
wake... without ever employing a single
diacritical marker...
spewing out... what became the modern
english grafitti spreschen...
   e.g.: lolz...
                              und: L8ER...
it's like: the worst of the worst of what
already is the worst in the form
of the h'american demands for acronyms.          

after watching an old couple walk
past me into the supermarket:
    or unlike the men climbing
           the matterhorn:
   which from postcards seems so
much more majestic in its formidable
shape than the goliath everest
    (from postcards) -
                 5 miles, a dark forest,
  and i can show you where english
druids chant: satanus in excelsior!
   and i thought i spoke bad english:
it's: in excelsis satanus...
       i would have approached them,
but then i was alone,
      and there was one idiot shouting
and about a crowd of twenty disciples:
you could hear the murmur
   adhering to the chant from a distance
of about 300 metres...
                    i only had beer on me,
no goat blood, no woad pigment...
                crash a party when they
were having a party in complete
darkness?
                     it's a good thing there was
a song change on my headphones
               and for a minute i picked it up...
wait a minute: i thought i owned
these woods, walking at night?
               ragnarök blood of Hvalba:
unfortunately the norse founded
kiev,
           so if they founded kiev,
                they must have past where
i made mark as: the land immune to
                                       the black death...
if i were an academic with a stipend,
   i'd write another boorish book on the matter
to attract moths...
          but the old couple, hand in hand,
shrinking but not exactly disappearing...
     in me the inherent conceptualisation
of a twin, like a limb missing,
  but with all my limbs intact...
              yet still a twin gleaming in my mind,
as the story i was told in my childhood
no echoes like a behemoth ghouling:
    they said to me:
   did you know that in this world there exists
a person that looks exactly like you?
         what? so i started looking,
      not leonardo, not brad,
                    can't compete -
            if i really am the stronger twin
                 who sent my twin to the plough
and the hearth... am i not to suddenly
    lick ash?
                  but the old couple:
   what a rarity to see, dwarfs,
                                  of former majestic
forms... elsewhere the single mother with
a baby in a buggy at 10 minutes to 11 during
the week, bewildered by reading
frozen foods labels...
           oh... about the supermarket...
grr... mein gott!
                    Surabhis! Surabhis everywhere!
the joy of walking into a supermarket
last, aisles as spacious as any king's
    lonely castle...
        but in the hours 12 in the afternoon
till about 5 in the afternoon?
        traffic jams!
                   zombified shoppers, women,
of course, children to boot...
                           how many times i might
have bumped into them...
      gaze lost, hazy eyed...
                 sometimes i had to walk down one
aisle, emerge from another, just to pass
  a woman standing fiddling with her
hair...
           the new meeting place, apparently,
but that's beside the point,
   the more i listen to radio,
  the more i learned that i'm far from
a music snob...
            take for example:
       free deejays's song
                            el amor es un party...
what? cuba not pretty any more?
              but there's a worthwhile observation
in there:
        only rich men have the chance
        to play a woman's game of "the chase"...
        only rich men get to "chase" women...
        the poor schmucks?
                          ****! have to live with them.  
****... i need to find that
    one exchange in ingmar bergman's
film wild strawberries:
            when the old man wakes from
a dream-memory in which he is
the ****** of a **** scene...
        where a woman is teasing a man
to the point, until he transcendes
                   a teasing woman,
                       and finds a Jezebel...
so upon waking...
                the "children" are picking
flowers in the rain...
                          and there's talk of
abortion...
       at this point it's gone beyond
castration...
                      the conversation invokes
the death-mask of man,
    or man as tomb, and woman as
the robber -
                         apparently once impregnated
man cannot ask for his ***** back,
and in some twisted way:
           and as much as i'd like to "cheat"
having found the screenplay online,
   i have the misfortune of owning the ****
movie...
        and how i like returning
to silent cinema, black & white, foreign,
with subtitles...
                     at this point,
because didn't place the subtitles: on top
of the screen, but at the bottom...
   well, **** me: am i looking for
Cindarella, because focusing back
on those faces means i seem them without
lips and merely eyes and noses,
   and perhaps a chance to spot
   a wriggling, morphed into an insect
st. peter's, if not van gogh's ear!
              or the lost "art" of handwriting...
Cinderella? my focus is so low from
      the action, that i might as well be
  watching, either a ballet, or a *******
riverdance!
             dr. isak borg (a)
marianne borg (b)
        dr. evald borg (d)

such a weird and heart-numbing thinking
went into writing this...
i have a history, a past:
regardless of having children and with
their existence: some sort of guarantee
for a future...
that i have a past, a history,
and it exists... outside of its current
written format,
that i can escape with or without having
children: that i would have probably
later ***** mentally...
having ingested all this third party
quasi-history propaganda
for the only history that's being
salvaged: the insect prone libido
of a status quo... well then...
let my "failure" be the patent for all future
success.
for everything worth some sushi glue? this isn't part of it.
Mateuš Conrad Dec 2015
the resurrection of the roman empire happened a long time,
it probably happened when the latinißed
(in english the german eszett works miracles in terms
of how the s and z mingle in certain words, interchanging
in certain words, where even an s is involved in spelling a word,
it’s not necessarily pronunciated, e.g. empiricism is written thus
but necessarily it could be empiricißm) started using
revised arabic digits, given the near synonymous simplicity
of both systems of notation - the near skeletal orientation
of the eye sockets proved that the characters of the language
had to involve a complication - the insurgence of the diacritical
marks on certain letters is keenly metaphorical as the descent
of the resurrected rome, via the heart thumping in the vatican,
the caesars becoming popes and hypocrites deliberating on
what’s supposed to be hidden and what’s to be revealed -
while cyrillic became neo-greek, after all:

Γ (gamma / ge)                         ι (iota / dotted ι)
ε (epsilon / ze)                           κ (kappa / ka)
Η (eta / en)                                o (omicron / o)
π (pi / pe)                                   τ (tau / te)
υ (upsilon / u)                            φ (phi / ef)
ρ (rho / er)                                  χ (chi / kha)
~ψ (psi) i.e. ш (sha);

and because the greeks developed actual names for letters,
it was only rational to employ these letters as scientific
constants ranging with popular demand in physics and chemistry.
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2019
rarely do you get a chance to remember such a trivial
affair, as a football match,
call it telepathy or whatever,
   but when poland was playing against israel,
in warsaw, and the israeli anthem came on first,
and there was the initial booing...
   which subsequently hushed down?
         sure as **** casimir III wasn't available...
my only critique of the english?
they don't really understand jews...
          from under the iron curtain:
to under the silicon curtain...
   the left of the west is not the left associated
with the eastern block:
it's unrecognißable...
       far from it... it's unworkable...
                     where is the grey suited soviet
special committee including the KGB?
nowhere!
    but the boos faded away rather quickly...
i liked that...
                    after all, most of the israelis
these days look like the sort of
     mediterranean folk you find in greece,
lebanon, sicily, libya...
   they don't look your stereotypical
hebrew orthodox jews of eastern europe...
they have finally become reunited with
their natural tan...
                                 2000 years will do that
to you, integrating, diluting the blood,
up north... yo! hibbie, you're as pale as a ghost!
better get a tan on that tapestry of skin!
- but the english don't really understand jews...
it's not like they were hiding in Poland
all this time, but they were,
they tried the Netherlands, Spinoza:
disgraced... they tried England: i'm pretty sure
they were ejected: once upon a time...
but let's not read into a historical rubric
of events... yes, the norsemen discovered
h'america long before christoph coal'umb'bus
did...
       what's there to wrestle with?
well... my jewish neighbour came into my house
today, neurotic (like any heb- / ***)
about her cat: bella...
      a white spider-cat:
    how this cat managed to end up on the roof
with the chimneys, i will never know,
white like snow, heterochromic...
         genetics has sentenced her to a "premature"
death, along with the pedigrees...
because she is white-fur...
                  anyway...
   she asked me: are you still into
the jewish ****? i shaved my head not not
so long ago, she comes in and says:
you're like my son joseph,
you're alike, both of you don't trust barbers...
you look like someone out of auschwitz:
although better fed...
             it's nice to share a joke with a heb- / ***...
she told me to not read the talmud...
i said: but i'm not a "convert"...
i would never read a script of the religously abiding...
i might be a lunatic to some extent,
but not the sort of lunatic to the extent
of gesticulating to blanks...
  so i said: yes, the qabbalah,
the mysticism of judaism is hasn't waned...
i still read it...
     and i do...
        the one book i have on qabbalah was
lived past its u.b.d. (use by date)...
it just keeps giving...
            it's the only source of knowledge
i've truly taken seriously... and i will slander,
**** ***** **** all i want...
but... i have one rule...
   i will not utter the tetragrammaton...
i figured... well: there's sauron...
           there's voldemort...
                        do not invoke the name
of the lord in vain...
                  well... there's your answer...

i could never buy into the christian
poetic variant of cannibalism,
      isn't it cannibalism?
           at a catholic high school,
   when everyone was being reared into
the catholic bureucracy of the rite of confirmation,
i refused when i started reading the gnostic:
to hell with a church wedding...

   mind you, the hebrews already have a trinity
in place, unlike the christian pagan profanity
of a body hanging on the cross,
very much akin to the norse god Loki
sitting in a tree...
    'thou shall not bow before any graven image'
well...
  the hebrews have two very specific nouns
for the all encompassing noun:
which i will not say, ever:

   ha-shem (the name)

                                              tetragrammat­on
                                (the four lettered word)

               interject the latin grapheme Æ,
the union of Adam and Eve if you mind
to know the way of wisdom,
  wisdom? yah... in the sefirot alt. named
chokhmah...

mind you, i only spotted this today,
you know how hebrews treat their vowels
akin to niqab beings...
they "hide" them?
       oh they hide them, very much akin
to diacritical markers,
but unlike a ż-aba (frog, in slavic -
               der überpunkt)
or tematyką (thematic of) -
         slightly different...
             slightly different hiding
vowel or consonant distinctions,
from... hiding the vowels in totem...
    imagine my "bewilderment" when
the greco-prefix rule was applied,
hovering over the hebrew letters א (αλεθ /
                        αλεφ... ****... no F / ᚠ
in either language... just the grapheme
          ᚦ.... but unlike a classical grapheme...
not a siamese akin to æ...
   very much akin to modern western
slavic... in ******: sz [š], cz [č], rz [ż])...
      and              ע (ayin) and no iota in hebrew
either...  with     צ (tsade) resembling
                      ψ (psi)...
                                 about the etomology of slav,
as someone pointed out:
that slavs denotes the etymological root:
slave, that slavs were slaves in medieval europe...
oh, you mean the balkan slavs?
the ones who experienced ancient rome?
rome never made it to Poland,
to Pomeranian Germany... vikings founded
Kiev...
               the ****-****** vikings of
such beauty as would require another
nose stereotype drifting away from the jewish /
roman nose... but hey... that's life...

see, i like these hebrai complications...
every time i pick up a book on qabbalah
i'm in kamikaze mode... i can spew all day...
i'm most interested in their treatment
of the vowels...
  did you know that the hebrai
  have sometimes two nouns associated
with a vowel?
        look at me, latin inherent,
syllable mendeleev castrato...
i don't have a name for any letter in latin!
ah... A... b': B... c': C... d': D...
               p'p'p'p: ***... that's really taking a ****...
once advantage?
             a good chance of a global
success of a fireside kumbaya...
        big deal... half-baked sing-alongs
is one thing: a world of ideas, another...
if i operate within a framework,
where no letter, has a name...
akin to the greek: A is for alpha...
                        B is for beta etc.,
   then what the **** are we talking about?

at least this:
                  i've just learned that my female cat
is sensitive to the sight of human genitals...
she's sitting on a windowsill one minute,
jumps off it the next...
         when she sees my genitals urinating
into the toilet...         hell...
                      now i have to cover my phallus
******* into the wishing well
            with one holding the aim "button" and
the other blocking her view of it... ugh...

watching the t.v. of making polish dumplings,
garnished with olive oil having fried
unsmoked bacon and onion to a crisp?
well... unless it's a show about my year of
birth, 1986, chernobyl, probably the latter...
life's too easy these days...
                  it makes no sense with women:
lounging...
                    back in the days with
no washing mashines, refrigerators,
             irons, food processors,
  ready-made-meals,
               etc. etc., vegetating,
                      when women were as important
at home, as men were important in the world...
lounging, vegetating, lounging,
vegetating,
   there's hardly a solance in a comfort,
when it has become nothing more than
a complacency... an irritation...

           oh but i will still listen to crusader
hymns, french, german and esp.
in latin...
         even while i celebrate hebrai mysticism...
i'm not exactly going to conscript myself
to a dervish spin-in-the-middle
and pretend no one notices me ****-load
of attention...
   i'd conquer the ottoman capital
on a whim of taking a **** in the middle
of ot!

          the slavs that were considered slaves
in the medieval period? i'm guessing
these germanic hard-ons are referring
to the balkan slavs..

    beside the point...
did i mention that the hebrai
     (i'm not owen benjamin -
what a nice jewish surname,
small hats? what about the christian
monk tonsure pseudo-imitation?)
      second name for their pentagram?

                              A - kametz

E - tzeré                                                I - chirek




            O - cholem                   U - shurek

Al-ef (a)
            b-Et (e)
                 gI-mel (i)
                 yO-d (o)
                             n-Un (u)

the hebrai do not follow the prefix rules
of the greeks...
     did the hebrai conspire with the greeks
to overthrow the romans?
yep...
      i'm not discussing this, i never will...
it's like gravity to me...
the greeks would never forgive the romans
invading them...
    like at edinburgh university,
i met one greek...
     Istambul was still Constantinople
to him... enough said...

but there are other names to the vowels
already stated... when the tetragrammaton
interacts / enters the sefirot...
the "other" ten commandments...

          when the tetragrammaton
assocites itself with the crown (keter)...
     A remains kametz...
but... when the tetragrammaton
associates itself with chokhmah (wisdom) /
yah... what was once kametz,
becomes: patach...

         when the tetragrammaton
associates itself with understanding (binah)...
           E remains tzeré...
but... when the tetragrammaton
associates itself with love (chesed) / el...
what was once tzeré,
   becomes: segol...
  
         when the tetragrammaton
associates itself with foundation (yesod)...
           U remains shurek...
but... when the tetragrammaton
associates itself with splendour (hod) /
                     elohim tzevaot...
what was once shurek,
                      becomes: kibbutz...

what are the remaining vowels?
            chirek (i) within netzach (vistory),
cholem (o) within tiferet (beauty)...
        the tetragrammaton itself...
  or... look to the heavnely orbs...
    and yet they keep on spinning and orbiting
their settled commands...

   but...
        but...
             a sixth vowel can be excavated from
the hebrai...
                  from the sefirot branch: gevurah,
strength, the vowel that resembles
what the two consonant-vowels (א aleph
and ע yin) already looked like to me...
     the consonant-vowel י (yod), ',
         otherwise known as sheva.

   so there is a 6th vowel in hebrai...
as there are two vowels posing as consonants!

again, at this point, me converting to
islam is... ha ha!
never mind, every time i talked to a muslim,
in public, as stranger to stranger...
the feeling of: conversation...
soon turned to a feeling of conversion...
so...
          i came to the hebrews of my own
accord...
      am i a monotheist?
   i shouldn't think so, since i'm not circumcised...
i like the idea of *******,
allows me to ******* once a day
without feeling guilty of needing
to light up scented candles in a comfortable chair...

of sure, when circumcised: it's probably
disgusting even imagining a man *******...
but... m'ah ******* still attached?
what's wrong with a ******* a web-cam
making a buck and me joining in?
that's the only decent ******* these days
to begin with...
   that's like: counter the ******...
either that, or fine art.

   oh i still "think" the other gods exist,
but i'm pretty ******* sure they're not as
invested in linguistics at the hebrai god...
     i still call the tetragrammaton
the vowel-catcher...
                 and if this hebrai god is, "jealous"...
it's trolling...
    since all the other gods relieve themselves
with such primitive demands
as to make people carve graven images
of themselves...
the hebrai god simply said:
   write me something tangible,
and interesting!
   even the monotheistic god allah
has a ******* for mantras and repetition...
worhsipping him must eventually feel
like sitting in a high school detention after hours.
sorry...
   i'm siding with the hebs- / yids...
           well it's not like the ******* saudis are
about to side with the palestinians...
are they?!

___
and how many shadows, do you think
you'll be able to conjure,
in the night-time
      while passing the outer-urban
environment of lighting?

     i passed from conjuring just the one,
then two: one in front,
one to my side...

               then came three...
one in front,
         one to the side,
                                and one behind me...

but the crescendo of the congregation
came when i turned into an alley...
six shadows...

             note...
     are hallucinations not of the same
substance, as shadows?
      well...
             given that...
i've never taken psychadelic drugs...
but fooled by
the english strand of marijuana:
skunk...
         the chemically infused ****...

i have a vague recollection
   of a guy who smoked this stuff...
story goes...
              he chopped off his
testicles, then killed his mother...
   the father filed a petition
to parliament, more like:
              speaking braille to a deaf
person...
               could have done
more with morse code...
                     but i even doubt that...

conundrum,
        one candle in tow,
             but there were 6 shadows
in an outer-urban environment...
     which one will i be talking to then?

could there possibly be more?
7 is a nice number...
              and also a nice letter: Γ
                                                    α   a
                                                    μ  m
      ­                                              μ  m
              ­                                      α   a
and the epitome of having
arrived at...
              beyond prayer,
  beyond soliloquy,
         beyond talking to one's shadow...
a moment, beyond a soothing
                                epiphany,
and esp. beyond an eureka...
             more... akin to...
   an informal existential epitome...
    or an                       草
               /              sō
       beside the religiosity
of ******* up,
     and the atheistic outright
slandering...

forget doing the 5th tier of bowing
like a muslim in prayer...
because of "what i want"...
or whatever crap that involves...
it still bewilders me...
   why would you need something
akin to the great wall of china,
when the phonetic encoding
                    is already a bastille?

        well... if "god" is associated
with delusion...
               what's the difference
between a delusion and a belief?
delusions don't possess convictions
of that translate themselves
into a fathomable will...
          delusions are...
                    a plethora of doubt(s)...
      imagine that...
grew up in an english society
with so many, many secular sensibilities...

and yet... all these problems...
   i'm going to the next sand-pit
with my bucket and *****...
      after all...
    Kant wasn't an atheist...
all the classical (anything outside
of the 20th is classical)
  philosopher had a grain
of sensibility concerning this:
  faux pas topic.
michelle reicks Oct 2011
if you have ever lived in
a dark place
then you know
                                  that you can't trust anyone
even the feet holding you up are
shaky and unsure
Things are confusing

                and you feel as if

there is no way out
                                       maybe giving up is
                                        the best option

because so far, no one has
shined a light upon you

                      you're not worth it
                      
i'm not worth it

I've never been a weak girl

I've always stood tall, walked tall

No one can bring me down

except myself.
                             I throw myself into
raging rivers
dark graves
impossible relationships

                                            because I somehow
                                             think I can make it
                                                          out.



I've been living in a dark place

Show me the way out
If you are who you
say you are,

take me by the waist
wrap your arms around
                                           my
                              colla
                                             psi
                                                   ng
                                                                      bo
                                                                                dy

Pretty bird

Fly me out of this
hole I've dug




God, a girl needs help sometime


so please
                    help me

lift me lift me life me lift me

                 off of the ground

I know I'm a heavy burden

weighed down with baggage
from my past

but Pretty Bird

If you would be so kind
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2016
how rho uncouples -** and attaches itself to the remnants of alpha, given the suffix -lpha is done away with it, to create: ρα (fragrance of the woo ha ha lingering in the air) - ρα- ρα- ρασπυτιν! lover of the russian king... imagine rasputin in the hands of placebo - counter the original ghost story of: daddy cool... imagine! it's all Disney!

some say i reminded people of the φ:
                      some compare φ to outer beauty,
φ being the golden ratio: all bets are off:
whenever there is beauty, there's a number;
                           Proclus.
2,500 years ago: it's not that Greek civilisation
declined, it's only that so many bright skylarks
came in at one: akin to the Renaissance -
there was no decline, there was just a massive
******* of talent, it seems that Zeus
did the ******* with a swan and and an eagle,
and... bob's your uncle...
           there was decline, but there was no decline
because there was the sudden onslaught of instigation -
a decline would mean: first came Copernicus,
then Galileo, then Newton, then Einstein,
                        steadying revision
centuries apart... comparative association?
a gold rush... looking for nuggets and maulers
of rough cold - it was a collective light-bulb
moment... akin to the cold theory of
Jungian psychology that's the collective unconscious...
although the collective light-bulb moment
is particular in terms of history, in terms of
science, as is the Italian renaissance concerning art -
Martin Luther is the Socrates as the end of debauchery...
debauchery in a good sense: let the geniuses
seize, and the common man absorb their findings:
whether right, or wrong - we need common
threads of their offshoots, rebellious,
we need a common denominator.
back to φ (external beauty, and plastic surgery,
the perfect symmetry of the face,
from Phidias: the sculptor and mathematician -
can anyone tell me why *David's
head is
over-sized? well, no φ went into that piece...
head's bigger than a watermelon,
body is proportioned well according to
limb-for-limb, but the head is a
balloon, why is it a classic? oi! send Isis
in to smash that **** to pieces!) -
so φ is all about external beauty,
we all know ψ (psi) stands for internal beauty,
psychological dynamics -
                                           plastic surgery,
in fractions: 1/2 (half), 1/3 (third), 1/4 (quarter),
                           1/5 (fifth) -
       apologies to Proclus: wherever there's a linguistic
symbol that symbolises both encoding of sound
   and a mathematical transition: there's double the beauty:
         1/φ,     2/φ,            3/φ              4/φ            -
       how when was the golden ratio made into a suiting
  equilibrium?
                          one leg shorter than the other?
   some say a lazy eye is as if an monocle -
            for all the constants it's the fractions that
  are decisive - the width of nose and the extent of
it's length is based on a 1:1 ratio
              ah crap! now i know my confusion!
   i was thinking of a silver fraction!
    never mind -
                               think gambling: 7 to 1...
          7/1                 maybe that's why i forgot ratio
    uses  colon, or, comparative emphasis -
                     the width of the mouth has no length,
               it's simply 1, or none -
                                      but from the edge of the face
to the first eye is measured as 1:φ
               i.e.                      eye                  eye
         [                               (    )                  (    )                            ]
     ­     <                1               >
          <                         φ                        >            
                                                                ­                             edge of face
top countries for face and head cosmetics:
   brazil: 10.8%         of global Σ, 430,375 procedures,     1st place,
   america: 10.4%      "      "       ", 413,140           "         ,     2nd   "    ,
   south korea: 7.8% "      "       ", 311,571           "         ,     3rd    "    ;
still, i'm more interested in how,
   you take rho and alpha and craft out Ra -
                     ρ               α                            Ρα -
    and where does -**               and -lpha go to?
                no wonder the Russians are the scientists
kindred heart of greece, and the inheritors of Latin
sing so much, fame themselves on music -
that's about right: the Slavs think well enough,
                    but, **** me... they can't sing for ****!
   jeeze! Disco Polo? that's one experience you
have to go through to understand -
                  what with Mendelyev
щ - e.g. szczypce (pliers) - shch - YZWZ - alter. -
             i.e. щypce -
            ш - e.g. szaszłyk (skewer) - шaшłyk
me? i'm standing at the time when god said:
oh, that ****** tower of Dubai? looks like we need
to spot the architect watching minding the glue...
э - well, that's currently know as the euro (currency) -
     so why ч (che / cha v. cze / cza)
   allowances, could be in addition also chu and cho and χ
           but... then it comes to
   ю (yu)              we have no yo, yi, ye, but instead
                       я (ya). peacock? me?
    just bemußed - and they're talking about an
identity crisis, never felt one, up to 2004,
when the floodgates opened and i wasn't the only
Pole in school - i hid all this time in English society,
and i was kinda accepted as a freak accident,
but then... after 2004... nothing special -
so like i once said: a psychological mongrel:
   yes, in English ß is: s-z-interchange -
sometimes smoothed, sometimes sharpened.
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2016
and when Aeneas, the Trojan prince, fled Troy with
the shamed Paris and Helen, took to sail, and led
the remnants of his people to the shores of Italy -
it was from the womb of Helen where the Roman tongue
was born, in a vision, the plagiarism descended from
high - as to how strengthen the papyrus
and change from oxen blood and quill and
frailty, to the sweat the chisel and the stone,
or as the fables said: two tablets, made of stone,
and in stone you will write of Rome,
and you will be glorified; but they needed
a revenge against the Greeks - so they
used what empowered the Greeks: their alphabet
(later known as the a-to-zed, although
i don't know how that worked out in the learning
of letters, it became known as the geography
of towns) - thus from
alpha (α) came       a                 (and here the major
distinction... given the nature of Greek encoding,
namely that each letter had a respective noun / name
attacked to it, the Roman tongue became more
musicological: the West End theatres are a pale
shade of the former Grecian tragedies and comedies...
the Roman tongue sung, as it was encoded to be
sung - no longer the ancient naming of letters,
akin to Greek, akin to Hebrew - the revolution
of loose consonant associations, by excessive
consonant solos with vowels as prime stabilisers
of the symbol being seen, on papyrus, as also in stone,
and no stranger then the talk of dimensions:
using the preposition on refers to 2 dimensional
objects... the preposition in refers to 3 dimensional
objects, and how much stronger the feels when said:
the cheap sacrifice of the skin to tattoos,
as those who said: suntans are for peasants -
they're the same people that sacrificed themselves
to the tattoo) -          from beta (β)    came        b
                      (remember the cartwheel: b q p d)
from gamma (γ)              came      y
                                  fr­om delta (δ)                  came  d
from epsilon (ε)                       came   e
   from zeta (ζ)              came   z
                 from eta (η)                            came  n
  from theta (θ)                            came thought
  from iota (ι)                      came    i
                 (mind you, the reason why the Greeks
  named their letters, is the reason why this system was
perfectly suitable to accommodate the letters into the use
denoting scientific constants - constants, consonants,
      constants, consonants, eh? vowels are always unstable
   *******) -
     from kappa (κ)                   came   k
lambda (λ) and upper-case gamma (Γ)   came   L
(mind you, the Greeks also had a cartwheel: γ λ Υ, gamma
                           lambda, upsilon)
from mu (μ)           came    h       from nu (ν)       came  v
   from xi (ξ)...           actually, i don't know if they even
   used this... unless! xi... 11... maybe they thought:
let's derive a mathematics based on xi - i, ii, iii, pre nu,
                             i.e. iv, ν, vi, vii, viii, ix, ξ, xi...
from omicron (ο)                       came    o...
         so as to expose the nature of it all, the rotary
transformation, the moment of homage toward
the feminine Greek spirit: with the perfect curvatures,
the smooth babe's buttock cheeks all over woman -
curve on curve - yet with the Roman spirit: a homage
toward the masculine spirit: rods, sharpening,
alms due to the acute < 90° - knives where once boxing
gloves were - as will be shown in one specific example...
and from rho (ρ)                  came  p...
            pi (π)?          a myth like status ensued from this
letter - they merely looked at the anatomy of
pronunciation from beta, and came up with p'eta -
lending to correct the ρ, to which they added a second
leg, \, to represent the possibility of the first step
forward: or trilling;
            from sigma (ς)       they derived s: emphasis in
later application of Latin, as in garçon -
and from tau (τ)                 came t (the basis for the crucifix),
   and from upsilon (υ)           came   u    -
and from      phi (φ)         came    p (by moving the
          doughnut dividing line to be attached
   like a tangent -
        and from chi (χ)              came   x,
  and from psi (ψ)            came psychology summation -
and from omega (ω)               came    w - and only then
did the idea of the cartwheel gymnastics and all
what's decisively chiral provide the revision of omega
once more:        to give       m -
so you see, in light of all this: Romans chiselled the curvatures
of the Greek feminism, sharpening their letters -
making all sounds acute - readied for opera and
war cries.
JoJo Nguyen Feb 2013
2x9
fertile cross  
every day      
art up
science wake
pattern make
live box
martial art
pattern mark
build real

2x3
see hear
smell touch
taste there


2x5
episode deal
memory fast
procedure feel
compiled base
cute interlace

2x5
influence cross
ad here
art van
age psi
advantage sum
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2017
you know how you can tell that women want
shorter  ****** encounters than men?
prostitutes.
   you know what they do...
they apply the secondary "*******",
to tighten the grib on
the penetrating object... i.e. they squeeze you
   invoking lamda
   the anti-chruchill Λ (lambda)...
huh?           don't ******* huh me...
          the index and middle
finger squeezes you...
   works magic when you've
be circumcised... but when you haven't,
and you **** while pulling
your ******* back exposing
the spartan "skin-head"?
         the c-ring is near your
head, rather than at
the base...
   so you're basically wearing
a bow-tie of flesh...
   handy jerking off,
      with the fleshy burqa...
and during *******,
imitating the monotheistic
aesthetic...
        two protruding veins,
you'd think they'd be
bursting at this point...
  even a ukranian *******
complained:
  when are you going to finish!
seems almost sad
   that women prefer quick
*** rather than athletic ***...
but the older the *******,
the more she's prone
to invent a second *****...
   her index & *******...
squeezing your phallus toward
a premature *******...
     kinda hard
   when you pull your *******
back and choke your member...
at the neck, rather than some
fetish at the base...
           sometimes you can go
for an hour and not *******...
and the ******* is like:
huh?! completely neutralised...
bewildered to say the least...
       i have no moral suggestion
at this point...
   i'm into catching moths with my
bare hands...
               i'm just trying to think
what sort of face i'd pull
when talking with someone
who hasn't
appropriated the jest of
a *******'s worth...
         there's still the minding
of the second-layer of genitals...
   it's almost ****, had i tried,
but i haven't, but it must feel just
the same...
        penetrating a vegan-jain-n'ah...
with a ******* trying to
speed things up    Λ
                       index    middle
         fingers, working their "magic"...
pretty pretty p'ooh,
                     i'm choking my **** by
pulling my ******* back...
i'm imitating circumcision...
           you're goon'ah 'av'
                                      to try 'arder!
         why do brothels always
have the perfume of bourbon
infusing them to solidifying
     a memory, unlike anything other
than blooming flowers
  in the evening, of spring?
           it's the anti-thesis of
b &  b (bed & breakfast) -
                    brothels & bourbon...
with all that ****,
america is softcore in terms
of ***... you celebrate strip-clubs,
but you don't celebrate brothels...
  you know what a strip-club looks
like in greece?
   a stripper places a green plastic
tag next to your drink...
   it's the green "light" to go ahead,
and head for a private audience...
            european strippers are like:
who the **** bothers with so much
tease but no action, if not
mid-western goodie-good-shoe girls
equivalent to those
with men having a fetish for dorothy?
that's borderline ****** prone dynamics...
i love recycling, i actually
love taking out the trash...
    only yesterday i was squashing
6 maggots in a napkin...
                   a woman that only
likes to tease, or wears the burqa
of a strip-tease?
             listen... i'd rather **** 6 maggots
while taking out the trash,
   wishing i could have impaled them
on a fishing hook, and caught myself
some dinner...
                   saying that,
america seems backwards...
  it's all tease... but no action...
                    get mauled by a ******,
   **** the gaping and gasping and
   pervert insinuating: look but don't touch...
this isn't a ******* art gallery,
   this isn't a church, or a temple...
            i have ten eyes at my finger-tips,
i'd love to use the eye down south
rather than feel infuriated by the two
in my cranium...
                           with all that ****,
it's almost asking for an al capone in terms
of selling fleshy cushions and duvets...
   to me america will always be the
first to have the nuclear weapon,
be always the second to send
a man into space
(slavs chose a dog
   germans chose a monkey,
       tells you a lot
about the collective psi;
   i'd have sent a baby elephant)...
    the first & only idiots to ban
   alcohol...
      and yes, i agree, it's great,
but whatever music and film
   they produce,
i can't have a high opinion
of them...
   i know i should...
   but if i was living in that tornado-ridden
mass of land,
         i'd be in the middle...
in the "boring" places...
                         or at least that's
how i imagine myself living...
         away from the schizoid
export of twins americana
                      n.y.              vs.               l.a.;
i met a mongolian in amsterdam
once...
           i was looking into
the void-eyes of history...
                 i imagine looking into
the eyes of a native of the continent
            to be a likewise telling of: wow!
saying that, a welcome revision -
the more you shame brothels,
and glorify strip-clubs?
   the more **** you're going to produce...
i have absolutely no idea
as to why america is founded upon
strip-clubs... more teasing than actual
muddy waters of juice...
                  the american notion of
strip-clubs before brothels is
very much like the act of prohibition
in my eyes...
                           i hope, hard as ****,
to never visit that puritan continent,
  when a ****** rebellion is always protruding
around every corner...
  where a ****** rebellion,
           can never be a ****** liberation.
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2017
it truly only exists in english-speaking societies...
after spending 3 weeks in poland,
god bless the pine woods and the number
of birch trees... and the -18°C temperatures -
   i can't but feel this aura of insanity hanging
over any western society...
        it's this languishing in people censoring
each other in a vocabulary battlefield -
               it's this persistent need to censor yourself
when the word best used, is deemed by others
to hurt their ears... as if i were standing over them,
with a drill to their ear, or
    a raven claw about to gauge out their eyes...
         i never understood it, but it's happening
in western society...
no wonder society stands firm with the lynch mob of
Ełk... it wasn't a scene from Nice,
nor that bloodbath in Paris...
                       a toll of only one soul, stabbed
in a kekab shop...
      Islam will be hardly welcome in Poland:
you need a very ridiculous version of catholicism,
as is the case, from where i reside.
                    there was no candlelight vigil...
there were only his contemporaries
    lynching the poor Tunisian...
            his shop was destroyed...
and a few other, innocent people got smacked in the gob:
like the 21 year old's death: for no reason:
  just to fill in the rubric.
                       the hashtag from Poland circa
December 16th? #wolne media...
            apparently the media were no longer welcome
in the sejm...
    i just can't tell you anything grand about that,
i was watching it from a public television set,
in a cafe drinking strong coffee...
      while four Ukranian women were eating chicken
and other eastern european delicacies...
waiting for their coach to Kiev...
                   and that pauper making a sandwitch in
the bus-station...  no butter: a slice of ham
slapped into two slices of bread...
        and god: that frost below zero...
finally i could breath air! free from African and
Arabian pathogens... like they say:
bacteria, viruses and parasitic lifeforms require
heat... you get cryogenic treatment in Siberia...
    for a long time: i felt ethnically completely...
mind you: it snowed in England today,
   but it was a teasing type of snow...
  it's practically not there anymore...
                         why did i write certain ''poems''
invoking racial slurs? at the frustration of being
dislodged from whiskey,
and the keyboard...
                       i rather throw enough negativity
into a blank canvas than a punch on someone...
       but it's there: citizen versus citizen and how
we are to speak, so unfeelingly: so un-freely...
                          and the curse of having that nagging
justification for what we said while exhaling
      helium...
                       i am, however, after something more
serious... namely why there are only two diacritical
marks in the english language, and they are closely-proximated,
on the ι (iota) and the j... and nowhere else!
               it's a bit too tad presumptious that these
letters received the treatment for accent-prone recipient
mandates...
                                  english has so many examples
it deviates from when diacritical rules are invoked...
     tri-                 tripple           try  and              tip -
   random, i know...
                         but given the ι, there is no reason why
a dot above it should be the sole incissor...
     why doesn't í exist? yes: the acute iota?
                             much concerning the
lost trill of the Ar...
                                              and if i were to rewrite the
alphabet, you'd have clear beginnings,
   and even clearer borrowing to put the masculine
sound last, as in the case of Ar...
     so to borrow from the periodic table...
a...    be... ç.... (so s ***** off)
                     deed...                 e...
                         ef (e minor, F needs e to exist as distinct,
but because of f being at the back, beginning with e,
     we'll not count it as an autonomous letter)...
              gee....
                                ­                             aye-chitty-chitty h...
                        laughter knows no alphabet...
ah forget this... it's getting muddled!
  the greeks used original names to encapsulate phonetic
units, apart from η (eta), μ (mu), ν (nu), ξ (xi), π (pi),
  ρ (rho), τ (tau... hence no taoists),
                            φ χ ψ (phi, chi, psi) -
question, why not pha cha psa?
          evidently vowels were used to stabilise
  the consonant grounding, but you could have used
other vowels to stabilise the sounds φ χ ψ -
  evidently the h when coupled to a p or a t is only an F...
     but in Greek that's future: not effigy.
        thank god i took to chemistry at some point in my life...
i can fiddle with these curiosities...
           Latin has exhausted its musicology...
it's no longer an alphabet that might give us a mozart,
or some poor castrato choir...
     and from chemistry, is has to name certain
letters nouns...
       like omicron or omega... being names
more than mere sounds designated the o & ω symbols...
latin will not sing anymore for us...
   we need to strenghten the alphabet recitation...
  some letters can remain simple,
but others have to involve an: o into omicron rigidity...
  or an ω into an omega mystique...
     which translates into quick-speaking and slang...
and i don't know: 3 weeks without the internet...
strenghtened by being sober... and actually being able
to read a book of 400 pages by kraszewski...
      and i come back,
   i wish someone on the periphery of London have
         the same European experience as i had in my native
soil...  a strange experience of a monochromatic society...
       western people my age had to resort
to the internet...
                           it's so less exhausting...
                             you start to think about going fishing,
rather than shouting your point of view into
   a dajjal-eye of a video channel...
                                                 i've only been back from
a mono-cultural society, and i didn't even think about
  drinking my loyal share of whiskey...
      it's so so exhausting, beginning with learning words
in order to later censor them...
                          and yes, i wish i could go back...
      i would have been a third-generation metalworks
worker... but globalisation happened...  
                    mm hmm... what am i doing here?
       well, i'm certaintly not thinking about it...
                          england has become exhausting,
using english has also become exhausting...
      no wonder i started listening to finnish folk bands...
   i need a ******* breather.
this thin sliver of me
amid the spectrum
of rage and depression
fights on valiantly
stopping the needle swinging
too far in one direction
atonement or atrocity
two paths one destination
self destruction guaranteed
explosion or deflation
erosion or erasure
my gauge for engaging occasions
will always be
this thin sliver of me
and its quest for equanimity
Ken Pepiton Feb 2020
As deep and fast as I imagine thought rrivers
riving my senses,

anon, another comma breather comes along
to spit me out,
too hot, too cold, too banal to avoid,

****. (****)
that's it.
We are all like those constipated tea drrinkkers,
from Back to Eden, nutritional gospel of the gay nineties,
and the entire Trump executive system,
is a biome transfusion,
that ...

is not what I was told. I was Told,
authoritative ly by the
most popular prophet Sid Roth is boosting,
that prophet shouts, GOD the Lord, we trust, the one on the money,
set Donald Trump at the peak of power.

I cough an ought and violently disagrree, see, as it appears
to me,
Donald Trump is a set-up, see
as they impeached him, behind the cameras

they gave him an arsenal capable of

you know,
Armegeddon or whatever end you harbour,
in the depths of you.
Where you hope.

Here's the point, the point Con-cep-tion, see

the idea, formless in one dimention, re
a grrowning word, I,
mmmmore tu, wham a slap touch bounce
catchit, we

be, time goes, okeh, and after all that

eventually
it's 2020 and we are netted on the right
side of the vessle shaped

into a torus wit a hot and cold, kinda
lava-lampish

beauty, is a word I sup, offer up, pose
you agree, see, psi
ence science with (con, as in with meat)
conpsience is scorrnd,
as a word, meaning less if previous sci
ence of right sounds, sets
psi as
a shibboletharrgic gate, to filter lazy eyes
from evil eyes,
before filling them with visions

of grranduer for winning the war, not that
last battle,

where --nevermind, click Broca- off.

*******, walks on. I know the messenger.
We can trrust this meta-story,
ever after all we know
had to happen,
sooner or later. Why,
because,

I said so.
Seek and ye shall find, I said is true.
Thus I found you.
one to take me at my words, and love me
enough,
to set me free to fill the vessels, not a few,
who built their shelters on the sands,
long since baked to stone,

mortal mind, listen, reading is your gift,
writing forms the vessle, we fill,
we living words you loosed,

when you pierced the Babbit wall, and
robbed the city of angels of its
stolen water,

per haps,
at the behest of some mourning mama
whale where the birthing harborr
poisons hopes whales give
the whole world, along
with the butterflies,
and bats, and dodo birds.
2020 vision day 42, deeper, faster, harder
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2019
any idiot can learn to play the guitar...

i've learned to play one...
   a one, a two,
a bumblebee blues...
or...
   eric clapton's
layla (acoustic
version
)...

            mind you...
what is piano playing
envy what isn't
a piano composer...

what is schadenfreude
and what: isn't
neither sympathy
or empathy...

   what is: something
quiet akin to a null
with an object:
being left intact...

schadenfreude:
a joy i will never understand,
ergo: it must be alien
to me...

i'm too paranoid
concerning: कर्म (karma-    -n)...

ah... the red indians
and the blue indians...
mind you...
given the Raj...

   the blue Indians were
conquered...
but...
        they endured...
given the cuisine:
which i find the most
superior of
all the people of
the world...

and: language...
esp. encoding it...
how does
the native american
language look like:
on paper?

i can tell you what
schadenfreude looks like:

ⰞⰀⰄⰅⰐⰗⰓⰅⰖⰄⰅ

   or let's cite:
Armenian...

           փ (ψ): psi

and the Greeks didn't
know of... the northern
peoples, introducing them
to encoding
       Ⱇ and the fork:
    fathom (vom)
                      F'ah-v'-om...

looks like չ (ch'ah) is
nothing more than
    a variant
of Σ... of venus de milo
variety...

    Շադենֆրեօդե...

եվեն
              ի
      ­                     ամ
տրյինգ
                          տo

               եսծապե

                              Րoմե

   (even i am trying
                to escape Rome)...

and doesn't an
Armenian P,
   look "too much" akin
to a willow tree?
                                      Պ ?

how can i, "escape"...
       all i can say is:
a phonetic encoding
like a sieve...
         empty: barren...
     or rather:
the "god of the gaps"
argument...
   receptive to everything
the universe
wishes to filter:
                          of itself...

and then blatantly
disregard for the worth
of some deodorant advert...

forget about
               seeing *******...
i have a needle in
my eye and: IT READS THUS...

       but i'm pretty sure
that the blue indians survived
because:
(a) their cuisine is superior...
(b) they had a complex
system for the encoding
of sounds...
   (c) well...
   a rigid ideology
with a tonne-load of
respected lunatics of
religios gesticulation...

      which makes: monotheism...
so...
      well... less superior in
that: what are these same
lunatics gesticulating
for?

    it's enough to have
one's thought robbed of
something selfish and
orientated around this:

"curiosity",
or rather...
                    nihil a- priori:
i.e.
    nothing without
                               a prior to;
no...
         sigh (ah):
          non-exclaimation
indicator): requiring an:
                                               āh -

which begins to look
     like a variant of sanskrit.

the wriggly and the squiggly
lines of encoded
tongue...

                my eyes:
have been too strained to
easily access:
   this... seemingly mediocre...

i'll admit it though:
for all the riches of
a phonetic encoding,
   and bound to it...
                    shrines of
poverty beside it...

   yet with all the material
gain,
   and the seemingly
            poverty-stricken
phonetic encoding in:
this, Latin...

                   well...
  riches! riches!
                 with an underbelly
of the abomination
via              4U...
         and...
                       correct
pronoun what?
                               can i be
who & dr.?
                         god...
even i dread the whole i-fridge
association with:
    
   which (also a pronoun) -
and...
      who wouldn't want
to escape this... Babylon?

                  well as long as
we're both looking at
    an apple, a donkey,
   a statue...
   and we are all: agreed upon,
concordant...
              which is:
agreed upon
(with an attachment
      of: unison & synchronißed)

pro-             -noun...

     so we're agreed upon:
whatever symbol you use...
or... variety plural...
   mind-numbing gymnastics...
you will be
a bank of nouns, yes?

     you will be a
            pro nomen curiae...

yes: i know there's a tautology
in there somewhere
  (we're all agreed upon:
   concordant)

but a tautology isn't
something false...
   some might claim it's
a variant of emphasis...
   a variation of?

          - but not how ugly
this phonetic encoding
looks like, sometimes,
most of the time:
   in advertisement...

      ադվերտիսեմենտ

आदवएरतईसएमएनट

    or what i like to call:
writing with a flat-liner's pulse:

______

on top...

    yeah... right:
                 आद    AD
                             वएर VER

anything to focus on the:
               ⠉⠁⠛⠑⠙
                             ⠞⠕⠝⠛⠥⠑
Mateuš Conrad May 2017
picture this...
       (i really have a ****** idea of what's imagination,
hence, it's mostly autobiographical):
   a little blonde colt walks into a bear encosure...
mama bear is there,
        but so is the young bear,
                            about the same size as the colt
                                                       human...
                           they play around for a while...
then the bear nibbles at the boy's sweater...
           and bites off one of the buttons...
                                     the same boy fudges his
foot in an ant-hill in a forest, rather than agreeing
with his mother, to look at a mole creating an
earthenware of **** from inside-out...
                       but a kid in a bear enclosure?
how the ****, did i find myself in such a space?
         it's a bit like asking harambe, you gonna
                                      kentucky fry that little ****?
no? you're just saving it? good on you.
                 bam!               harambe no more...
or as the offspring might have put it: ixnay on the hombre.
    that translates as 9-nays           (9 no... what's the plural?
      no's...    that's possessive...        nos?
                              and you might as well
  add the letters        k   and    e... better sniff
that **** out... ah... the aesthetic of a silent / surd
            letter.... knife....  wife...       nigh     f....
    where did the vowel disappear to?!)
                            toy... at most, at least,
  at the best of all possible outcomes...
                 philosophers have their "thought" experiments...
poets?     thank **** they have word play...
               at least language can be a rekindling of
the schoolyard...           we          play...
                          there's no need for "experiments"...
by now thinking is already made redundant...
   why would it, to begin with? given this modern interest
   in a.i. (artificial tech.)?
                   ****... this *** is really getting to my head,
i had a dream... for some reason i dream a lot about teeth...
and i pulling my K9s out with a pair of
                              pliers...
        but that memory of walking into a bear enclosure
in the danzig zoo... and the baby bear biting off a button
off my sweater... and then running back to mummy
crying, saying: he bit off a button off my grandad sweater!
       that ****'s true...    
  **** me... dreams are so dreary... in their instance,
for one, and second? in their insistence to actually exist...
       i want to remember! i want a life that has been lived!
it would seem that memory is very much a faculty of
   psi (ψ), akin to dreaming...
    you could call memory "day-dreaming"...
      but what is the need to remember the agitation of
         plants by light, absorbed by chlorophyll?
i count memory, or the so-called instance of "day-dreaming"
as more necessary, than dreaming per se;
             it could probably mean: i lived a moral life;
i lived a just, life!   when you devolve the necessity
  for dreams?      your memory sharpens...
   you actually begin to see, that your memory streches
  far far back... the greek myth of the "siamese" twins:
  thanatos (death) and hypnos (sleep) should be changed,
it should really be about unerio & mnimi -
                                                 (dream & memory);
the potency for the basis of a "need" to dream, derives
it's presence from the freudian desire to interpret dreams...
ergo? dreams have no significance,
   they are as much subjectively biased, as they are
objectively untrue.
True add verse situation,
     whereat me mission
     trans send dint state didst ache
after yours truly nearly
     did nearly break
chassis 'pon took drastic
     over corrective measure,
     not quite August,
     nor jejune piece of cake,
while rounding raised

      curbed contra corner
     suddenly felt wrath of wife quake,
viz passenger rear tire
     gone flat as a pancake
impresario found myself
     hearing Thus Spake,
Zarathustra, when in truth...
     twas ma constricted trach.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Some weeks back
     acting so cool and chic - bank
king all bravado, machismo
     self importance, and frank
lee babbling like a ******* creek
     off by a black key with Hank
Williams tune imagining
     myself swaggering like a lank

key trump petting Don
     (feigning faw being "Beefy") plank
walking lampoon able
     laughingstock Freaky, thank
less as a lapsed worn eraser head
     pencil necked Geek yank
key doodle dandy hood be
     forced to do penance as cap

     pit dull leotarded asinine
arthouse flop, where nary any words
     (worth their weight in gold)
     described my benign
behavior, NOT even
     smattering of unflattering deign
nig grating hammock colorful expletives,

     that would find an ensign
sailor to blush at my inept
     shameless travesty over the line
utter in apropos totally tubularly
     moronic juvenile mine
ness zero car raze zee antics,
     didst drive my doppelganger nine
tee bajillion miles away in search
     of another auto body – pine

ning for newer model
     then a 2009 Hyundai Sonata sign
ning off contract with this
     stunt driver wannabe
     unimpressively try'n
to act the blithe dare devil,
     while thee spouse didst wine
and scream more'n ****** Mary

     as the gunned axle nearly broke
trying my **** nest to
     "FAKE" dagger a type cloak
his husband resembled a fool,
     where angels fear to tread didst evoke
unsuccessful, unstinting, and unsparing

     unstrung epithets of colorful expletives
     unsuitable for poetic folk
boot urgent prayer went out
     to incredible Hulk
Hogan, and/or even the ghost
     of Andre The Giant, this haint no joke!
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2020
.i only wrote this to write... it's never about drinking for drinking per se, or to entertain "thinking"... for the first time in 4 months i took my usual night-time walk... i wanted to precursor spring... to fill the air with perfumes - so i washed myself - applied the deodrant... the almond cream, i trimmed my ***** hairs... i oiled my beard... i applied coconut cream to my face - a mango infused balm to the hands - deodrant to the feet - i left the house imitating a magnolia bush... or all that *** i get up to come the nights of yesteryear when spring finally comes and all the trumpets are alight with the wind rustling them and ushering our the scents...

at some point in my drinking:
i feel the puppet strings loosen -
and i arrive at a kuru dance spectacular -
it's hardly a dance:
it's more akin to a gimmick -
more: akin to sharpening a misnomer
on the stone-grinding-the-never-to-be-used-blade
of a synonym: blockage...
****... always with the blockage -
i can't really be making excuses:

does this even resemble a paragraph?!
once upon a time; perhaps -
but even now, without rhyme without
sparrow without a horizon
of the climbing sun -
above a horizon of mountains
of Macedonia in the cleft of a valley -
just pristine rising -
on the plateau of: where
sea fiddles with the sky and vice versa...

of a language best leftover to
a hangover of: much better use of it...
should i be bound to being sober,
being the better attired man...
when i would break the tide along
with Xerxes whipping the sea
into submission -
better well attired: purposively tailored...

a crackling sound from a snippet
interlude of how a bow-tie was born
simultaneously with the sparrow -
how man was so borrow the donning
of the tie with a crane's elongated neck -

but again: how is "one" to not tire -
gender neutrality of pronoun usage -
began with the royals - ends with the royals:
the crown is not even upon by head
and yet: this expectation's toll...

one "thing" to call it a poetic metaphor...
another to call it...
a psychiatric: hush hush: invite the broom!
it's oh so tiresome...
tiresome to have to want of this world...
nothing more than a transitional
escapade...
this life that needs a mortgage...
however taxed or not taxed...
with insurance fail-safe investments...

i see a sun... i call it...
the Switz take on euthanasia...
and i'm very much a fan of this:
when one, simply, becomes, tired...
and one can tire very easily...

i sometimes read the poetryfoundation.org
editorial spew...
at least they forget custard and
never, oh never never:
start the show off with fudge packing...
the ballerina breaks a leg...
a crescendo of sound makes it into
an orchestra of a waterfall -
the echo shouted into a cave...
learns of the vampiric inability to see
a mirror reflection...
the echo begins to learn to become silent...
the image is no longer seen,
the echo will never be heard...

the ice-sharpnel in the eye -
the cave has learned to glutton the would be echo...
gobble gobble it down it must....
it will not regurgitate any fleeting sound back...
and a day will come when
a man will start to philia - not love...
more: befriend his own shadow...
because it's not that beauty fades...
by that (circumstance)
there was always that interlude
of tampered with inflated beauty...
otherwise no delusion:
it was "fate" that it would happen...

and that will not stand
on anything but stilts riddled
with foundations made of sand...

an old woman's skin like creases
of forever folding paper -
but never quiet an art of origami -
more like creases - scrunches -
how an inflated ballon filled with
a dead body feels like
in dio and carbon dance -
then dipped into liquid nitrogen
will eventually look like -

like an onion dipped in the same liquid -
later picked up and smashed lazily...

what am i supposed to see...
something akin to Postnik Yakovlev's
or Ivan Barma's eyes were not gauged
out by Tsar Ivan:
dropping dogs from high-buildings
was a "thing"... st. basil's was also the last
sight of beauty before the moon allowed
her full blossom of *****...
or before the light scortched the eyes
into a fizzling out fiddle of
not lasting expectation: as ever...
this epitaph anticipation...

casual language: non-narrative...
no character study....
pork chops and a date with the halal
butcher... since the kosher one
"sort of"... "forgot"...
catching the tide of the "white flight" from
London...

absolutely no appreciation for
greek orthodox cenobite chants...
perhaps it's now wonder...
yugoslavia... how it didn't dissolve
peacefuly akin to the gorbachev plan...
because the serbs went sword for sword
with the muslims of the balkans...
and what not...

no... this is not poetryfoundation.org
type of poetry...
white is allocated to... what?
english? french?
i see the root of the argument...
in russia... it looks very much
termite infested: próchno!
which one would call: it's not driftwood...
it's spongewood... sinkwood...

but i have to thank the russians...
i need it!
it will not simply be: pleaSure...
it would be as simple if the anglo-ßaß
interchange were to happen...
but even then!
ж = ž = ż = rz...

you have these signs in your language:
but it's almost... like you can't...
rather than don't want to use them!
i need the russians' 'elping 'and...

с = s = ç

(х) - lo(ch) - i call it the drill -
oh is no och, faye dunn!
what's new?

no...

   ц (cy - niet ka ka)
c'erp...

ч contra х...
č / ч 'asem...

ж                         ш

                 щ

                 šč (,) that's added to the š'
is also a szczekam: i bark...

either these are the leftovers -
or these be the crumbs...

ж = ż = rz...
and therefore? depending which language...
caron r (ř) or caron z (ž) = ж...

it's very much unlike hiding a vowel...
as the hebrews do...

but i can only thank the russian encoding
of allowing me to stress
the difference between C and K in english...
greek is dead to ditto...

not quiet a с - or... cedilla attached - i.e. s...
certainly not a к...
i'm pretty sure the greeks have their:
phi and theta - psi and chi...

pivot letters from russian:

ц: plaцki - cakes -
ч: płaч - crying...
    velsh: pwaach...
х: хolera - cholera - c'olera -
otherwise: not latch but loch nessie...
ж: pleaßure...
   or... żart... but that does depend on
the caron... žart...
and half of the caron?
       źrenica - pupilla... pupil...

back toward:

ш + ч = щ...
i too was waiting for the following equation:

ш + ц = щ...
but no...

let's not discuss the variations
of й, у, ъ, ь, ю or я...

am i not entertaining a language i will not learn
to a level of conversation?
most assuredly!

зъ in roman would almost look like
ж - well... ż or the caron eventuality...
these are hardly shortcuts...

cheap - pointers...
shameless office-hours... nothing but b & w
printing - and making coffee for
the muggers of hours -

a break from solving a sudoku...
back into looking at russian -
oh... just the language... no painting needs
to be summoned...
although...

at the royal academy of arts...
when i was skipping lectures at U.C.L.
i spotted this eye-pleasure
in flesh and blood and oil and brush strokes...
and how it towered over me...

PHILIPP MALYAVIN
peasant woman dancing...
nothing exactly compares to seeing this
painting in real life -
hell - the mona lisa is...
a bit like a nail-clipping...
compared to growing your hair long
and then shaving it...

beauty or technicality...
if the royal academy of arts...
would showcase the bullfight by pyotr
konchalovsky -
what's this poem this poem this isn't
a poem this poo'em?

i lament the non-existence of diacritical
markers in the english lounging-attache -
the lazy tongue that thought...
i'm not willing to play with anagrams...
i am not a fan of anagrams -
every other language game to escape
learning a second language...
crossword puzzles -
to stick to the monolingual enterprise...

thankfully for some they were born
into english: sell that talking point in scandinavia
or belgium, or the netherlands...
somewhat germany, somewhat poland...
the tourists' lingo or...
where those movies come from...

why wouldn't i look at russian letters?
a fond break-away from any sudoku -
but only via russian can a distinction be made
when... some random english native
sees a suffix -cki...
-цки...

no: no amount of cyst or garcons or whatever
would ever prepare anyone for...
ч or... well (ch)atter... but not for the piquant...
dumać: to muse...

my mother tongue my affair it seems...
well... there's that...
or there's the netizen language -
or any portmanteau language in general -
but never to truly mind the hieroglyphics
of :) -

one lion roars - another lion yawns...
this most certainly sounds better in german...
eins löwe brüllt - ein anderes gähnt -
bad german is worse than no german;
at least bad german satisfies my basic fetish:
the per se.
Mateuš Conrad May 2020
the virus is raging: or so we're told -
i don't really mind whether we're told anything
anymore - i can finally come to grips
with the male version of the niqab:
just fine...

                              but once the virus impregnated:
whether our actual bodies or...
whether this: that be the detached from the herd
mind - whatever cull word: or choice of....

but... islam stopped: doing its business of
a revival... a revival... mind you...
that only involved the sunnis...
  it's like: the ******* would rather sweep their
whole schism under the magic carpet...
no... they wouldn't: they: sunnis...
wouldn't attack the sh'ites... the persians:
yeah... good luck with that...
the persians would bow before...
a bunch of camel jockeys:
  the library of baghdad...
              and: a library with only one book...
quasi-poetry: that damns poetry...

but i guess a book that takes hold of the heart
is much more than a book
that agitates the mind...
the bible: agitates the mind...
**** knows what it does to the heart...
but i'm sure to know that...
a proper adhan...
   can leave me in tears...
like...

but when i hear: da pacem domine...
or anything! anything resembling teuotnic songs
of the conquest of the baltic states:
too bad for merry ol' german...
having converted the prussians...
the prussians...
well: the revenge of the pagans over
their christian overlords...
or some **** like that: otherwise a different cover...
so much so that...
the polacks stood a chance with the kashubians...
and the silesians...
mongrel tongue they are much at home
than if ruled over by prussians...

jihad: a war of reclaiming land...
never a war of intrusion...
you reclaim all you have lost:
but you do not claim new land...
it's not a holy war beside:
what has to occur naturally: the growth of
an idea: that the enzyme is a sword...
well: no one's perfect...

but given there's a break from
fetish fashisto islamism...
     turban afghan / saudi sunni **** flinging
pajamas... well...
what about the hugo boss uniforms you
promised with all that oil money you ******
away on yachts and ****** that:
those ****** were waiting for you in jannah?!

of course i'm teasing the mamluk and
the janissary...
if you fed me... adhans... poetry...
and then: speeding to modern times...
played me as this egyptian stranger...
in amsterdam: architecture student... genius doodler...
an afternoon with him... beers and some jojo-and-mary...
in amsterdam... or... the previous afternoon
and these two slobs: germans...
and he gave me a song to listen to...
how the world dwarfed...
le trio joubran - masar...

i have nothing in christianity: a headache...
i tried judaism: too complicated...
linguistic avenues: herr zensor ha-shem:
the name of: kether: keter -
crown... you can only be so smart...
before: ehyeh asher ehyeh just because the same
bogus "trip" of pickled intellect you
have with that trinity and: fraction...

da pacem domine...
            muhammad can start wearing a niqab
at this moment... i don't even know whether
a proselyte status is teasing me:
i can't tame a heart: esp. my own...
but seeing the clear reduction of islamic
intrusion into christian affairs of:
yawn... usury? iconoclasm?
                        contra: the former...

you sold me on the romance of mamluk and
jannisary... because i'm fat from being tired
from what christianity has to offer...
honestly... even if there was a nag hammadi
library revival of the gnostic section...
or... 100 years from now...
there was news about the fate of isaiah
and the dead-sea-scrolls...

                 the muslims are not attacking...
by the grace of god...
some authoritarian mouthpiece from their shitpile
of clueless stopped talking...
and the adhan could be listened to: again...
and rumi minimalism could be read:
sufism! could be digested...

my mind can wander calendars... days and decades...
dreams and deja vus...
it can cross boundaries inanimate object
territory and turn to all things fuzzy
in the realm of hallucinations:
denial, doubt, conviction
in one way or another...
fractions of synonyms...

i cherish the one libra... the heart's:
yes....           or...                      no...
then there's the christianity that borrows too much
from its: "cultured" / cultivated paganism...
whether greek or trojan (alias latin)...
i'm tired of these arguments...
they're either claustrophobic (without any
evidence of clarifying workable space)....
trash: recycling matter... per-haps...

                      hoarder peoples of the world
"unite"... no... i'm "bored" and just exhausted
by the secular arguments or how
the trinity fraction ingenuity should work...
when islam is stsarting to turn lazy...
i figured: the romance associated with
the mamluk and the janissary is open, yes?

sufism and the indivisible one?
the vector: the north: point north vector -
the frankenstein moster clue: that's still open?
will i meet the drawfish turks along the way...
and they'll come up with...
canons for ****-open the walls
of constantinople?

      ever convert someone by way of
shrivelling up their testicles or crucifying their
mind on the altar of phobias?
if you don't have the heart...
you might as well be gagging for an achilles' heel...
if that!
christianity and pop cult. secularism...
i'm bored of worshipping
a static demigod...

        how many demigods came...
preceding? but this demigod is the fraction
celebration: the intellectual *******
of people who: cared not for...
the ferris wheel, etc.
                    
         rome is no more!
holy rome is no more: the "*****" achieved its purpose...
citing Casimir III also helped...
the nomads moved: jumped over the pond...
spider patience as released into
the city-scape: well of course... well done!
applause!

the question "question" is never asked...
given... hasn't christianity become a quasi-polytheism?
how many denominations?
too little gods: and the one...
as a fraction... can just keep on giving:
yet another preceding 0 of: the divided fraction
booth...

         the schism within islam was hardly
an intellectual:
all these "byzantine" precursor details...
such a bothersome spectacle for all:
that mind the bureucratic shoo! shoo!
              an intellectual affair:
                       worldly affairs... Ali was promised x...
the caliphs decided on project y...
the integrity of "the prophets" word:
while aging... senile yet still *******
a fresh cherub-and-orange akin to...
                 Khadija **** Khuwaylid still on my mind...
in praise of older women...

according to malcolm X and: cassius clay...
islam knows no race...
since... christian fwench... catholic...
spaniard catholic: later christian...
german retro: swiss...
anglican fudge-packers...
             yes... islam is not a nationality:
nor is it a race...
then again: what is croat... former yuogoslav...
or greek...
when... ahem... all that matters is...
h'american patriotism?!
if only the h'americans can be patriotic...
only the 50 shingles and twin barons
of stripes is on the ready...
the h'americans are: patriotic!
the rest of us are being nationalistic:
cousin-******-******!
can't islam come via Sarajevo and...
become... an escape plan?

   Ezra Pound might have cited:
the former proud stance of christianity against
usury... and now...
loan-sharks...
   i could be a slave to islam because
i could finally escape the "lost" e in
a ethnic grouping that has me locked in with...
the st. petersburg crowd...
the slavs...         and the germans: are... germs...
east a vowel - prefix at the wrong moment...
thank god that islam is not a people
but an idea...
and i'm burning with it...
without need to make or meet
proper formalities of conversion...
by heart's analogy of the mind's banquet
of the thesaurus...
when will the simple yes...
or the simple no arrive?
i don't know...
                i don't want to know...

after all: will you frequently hear...
of a *** / 'ebrew convert?
no! of course not! it's a... v.i.p. club...
you being a jew is more than an "idea"...
yep... it's exactly "also" a race...
you don't get to bypass all the cousin *******
cousin inbreeding on a whim...
you don't get to be given a "choice"...
while islam readily converts...
new blood...
islam readily converts because...
you were never a chosen within the confines
of the distinct few:
which is nice...
islam readily converts: while christianity willingly
abandons...
why am i looking into a mamluk /
janissary romance novel genre?
will i write one?
do i look like someone to turn a silver
spoon into a ***** and fake
a sigh?

dare i: dare not i: "not i"...
back into the basic structure of words:
back into syllables...
words like: da-je (it's giving)
                           i forget all the other mamas' and
papas'... "lyrics"...
i'm just bored of the exclusivity and
inclusivity of peoples...
mind you: i mind more...
what's that: fidgeting me... irritating me...
such the atom: like the letter abounding
around them...
it's nothing special... it's just: fudge...
and a simple metaphor of concrete and
indigestion to have to... endure...
gorge... digest...

                i'm bored of christianity
because of the ruling "christianity" of h'america...
back to basics: son of sam...
thank god for the atlantic ocean...
some distance... some perspective...
evangelical: denominations of old world
protestantism...
no... all the basics of:
looking at women with "fun" prospects...
joy... what about the joy of a bicycle...
it's like ******* retards claiming:
casper the friendly ghosts and
spiderman were touch-up buddies to sooth...

thank you h'america... send me back
to afghanistan... and pashtun womens' poetry...
too many minutes spent on this insomnia footprint
of the web: i still believe a t.v. and a computer
and internet access should be akin
to resembling a fireplace... fixed locations...
no?
i don't actually mind:
eating a burger and getting a blockjob
like driving a car...
on a smooth motorway...
try the same... and giggling... on horseback...

if i could gonvern myself to establish a matrix
of prayer - rummagings of a lacklustre
of schiphrenia - perhaps...
for all the freedoms "imposed":
and not imposed - shimmy shimmy -
and all that isn't received as: to pass...
restrictions galore...
the smooth shake-me-up...
secular: testicular clean shaven *******
tip of luck when licked: etc.

           yeah... yeah: sign me up for that...
pedestrian safehaven!
the promises of science...
                  the christian day to day...
and the... straitjacket of islam...
or... or... prop-er... PWOPH-EER "judeo-christian":
and some salty Cicero...
and some pepper stiff 'istotle!
                  
   love is... love is: pseudo-echo: his eyes...
and all the little idiosyncracies still alive in me:
that makes me focus on me:
and not on... the expendable you...
     all i want is to focus on these details
without having to infringe on: detailing you...
to what...
                impaled... which has to be
more insufferable than a crucifixion...
but... let's not mind that...

              the detail comes around with:
the civic world is a world that the ancient
romans laid a claim on...
the rest? that the romans didn't lay...
a claim on? fifth partition of poland...
a ****** job over the "question" of iraq...
i'm not this "white" ****-boy's boor...
but that i am: since i'm not his baron.

- all that bob woodward & carl bernstein
achieved... deep-throat alias
of that ninja in m.g.s. PSI...
but what i included... but what jonathan landay
and warren strobel couldn't...
it breaks, the "heart"...
or at least the mind... capable of...

- honestly... i never much appreciated
rembrandt...
but... what wouldn't... otherwise...
a sobering-up sessions of sitting on the edge
of the bed do... otherwise:
better good... than the thus presented...
than... hang-over... looking at prints
of the aging rembrandt...
no... not the zenith... the impeding
nadir...

          would it still be necessary for me
to ingest from l.s.d.?
the lazy strokes of grace-
any other adjective of pompous
sycophancy is open: though... to be added...
no... not because his a well known name...
but because: i never found the sort of
raw beef: or the sort of stomach...

the question of the "question"...
within the realms of the diaspora...
that's a hard "question"...
given the diaspora is... a status quo that...
look at the orthodox yids / hebs
of brooklyn...
they're not leaving and brooklyn isn't...
either... the question of a people
without a diaspora...
is still only a "question"...
like that: MADE IN CHINA... "question"...
i still haved things in my possession that have...
MADE IN HOLLAND...
MADE IN INDIA... MADE IN IRELAND...
hell... even MADE IN BANGLADESH
makes you believe in a higher quality than...
all that CHeap CHequers ***** from
the land of BING JING... and the squirming
dwagon...

ask any thai or any... the chinese are not
the best parts of h'america...
and the worst parts of russia...
and... all the rest: reincarnated horde motto:
mongol...
joke... stinking camel jockeys will
not touch a squat of pork for fear
of the silk road mafia:
yow-eatz the stinking sheepz...
me eatz pork & leather
    me eatz pork & leather...
                                     shoe?! shoe?!

shrimp **** gets a hard-on and there's no
mushroom saxon esq. 1960s mantra...
of toll culture!
               well: shrimp **** is hardly:
a korean sand-bag or a piece of japanese
porcelain skin... whiter than porky-pink
gets handled by haggling over Libya...
and the Spanish... sun... tan!
- it's a good nuance though...
given that... all of the baltic sushi is
ascribed the status of: herring herring herring;
raw... yes... in a gherkin infused
cream... creamy dreams of a less robotic...
less stockholm syndrome... Stockholm...
the museum of the tomb of the Vasa ship...
and all those yachts...
seeing Stockholm... no need to see Oslo...
Helsinki... Copenhagen... seeing St. Petersburg...
i really... really need to see Istambul;
smoled salmon... rye bread...
mayonnaise... cucumber... dill...
rainbow trout caviar...
it would be a luxury... caviar...
if everyone was willing to eat it...
but... given the price... only a few could...
caviar would be a yacht symbol of richness...
no... you want a better summary?
caviar is... marmite...
you either love it... or hate it...
everyone almost everyone:
the greater majority... can stomach...
poultry abortions...
caviar is not a luxury... it's an idiosyncracy;
there's no "acquired" taste...
it's something akin to: the web architecture
a priori in the confines of
'ed... of the spider...
or how... the woodland pigeon builds
a nest... "from thin air"...

             learning to walk...
is so class-A drug... bourgeoisie...
                perhaps there was a russian revolution...
perhaps there was the industrial revolution...
all in all: there was only the french revolution.
Cagney,
he with the grapefruit,
'top of the world ma'
yankee doodle,
was in my opinion
not a dandy.

which has nothing to do with this
it just needed saying.

I'm praying for a take over
a once in a lifetime
make over
or
I'm going under
and
difficult I believe is
the way that I'll breathe
with the
PSI
building
but
pressure is not just
a cooker,

she
was a helluva looker
and I felt the pressure then
to
bypass the other men and
make a play for her.

Love being the apple in
the orchard
it is sometimes and somewhat
awkward
to say what you mean
when you mean it.

Here I am
man in a quandary
why don't you
call me?

Actually
I am fracturing
the seams are unpicking
no
sticking at fifteen
which was always
the magic number,
tragic really.

I can't reach the cut out
don't tell me
she puts out,
that is so passe.

I wonder who
was on
the grassy knoll,
no one at all?
a conspiracy
to do away with me?
hey
do what you like
I see
a brighter future
in futures.

She,
makes
contact with me
a
protracted affair
which
is only fair
when
I love her.
Mitch Protheroe May 2017
There's time to bury our sins, a flame to be consumed
A burning bath of gasoline to melt this wax candle wound

What life have we weaved; will we wear the Star of David on our sleeve?
This is but a trap, monolithic prophet of life lapse

Can you breathe, can you hear me?
The air is poison, our sound is lost in space
How trivial it is to see with eyes that cannibalize our dreams
Inferno to burn productivity if what's been done deserves such subjectivity

Dancing legless on the pavement
Enveloping anger, break the seals
Atonal melodies lulling our heads
Falling PSI to keep our brain in its shell

Where are the tombstones? Only spoils mark our graves
If we once settled here, the Earth would behave
terminatheband.bandcamp.com
I felt loneliness, the likes of which
can only be known
as one contemplates their own body.
I recall where I was last week, a psi-trance gig.
I remember that evening's events:

There were many out, some
were from teenage years past.
We all ended up at squat party.
I felt belonging, but also brief sadness
as we raved in this abandonment:
Cold candlelight and phonescreens,
Cheap ***** and speed-amphetamine;
A portable speaker playing dark minimal.
Once upon a time, when we were true fiends,
I could hear it
calling to me.
Now I'm as lost, but no longer hear a calling.

When I got home my mind wandered until
it found the mirror, and I let quieted thought
wash through me, recalling, times, and friends.
How many acquaintances've been made in G-town,
Within these city boundaries? People have sessioned
here for so long. Let me be/gone, I gotta bounce, asap.

— The End —