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Mateuš Conrad Apr 2016
i knew robert, he used to make clean cuts of newspapers without licking the edges, oh let's not play that game of targeting the word as a misnomer when it's an umbrella for the technicalities: the horror happens with the third child, the second child shows signs of weakness, anaemic or lisp tongue, the third child is the parents' mistake... i was the first and the last, Chernobyl hit me as a foetus, no can do, national socialism was accepted freely, the castration of women. me, now? i'm living out a pseudo-Stalinist plot-line in democracy, democracy dilutes despotism, because democracy believes in the great number of despots, but doesn't own up to it, it's not one singular person to mind, democracy has despotism inherent in it without iconoclasm... they loath en masse cult-lie practices in politics, dis-inhibited concerning one person, they pretend to be vultures, they congregate in the house of commons and say the dictator does not exist, but hell he does, he's only so abstract he doesn't have a body, but the thought is pervasive, it's a thought cloning device - well hey hey! science fiction! that'll topple Jane Austen's sensibilities, won't it?! well the plot is: as a former satellite state inhabitant and knower of a man experienced in the party propaganda i'm reliving it all in england... the "defender" of democracy... more like a sociopathic advert for a detergent - bop boo ya.

so this x-files episode from season 1, episode 23...
we'll mind that in a minute... based on the re-interpretation
of the acronym i.q. -
capitalism has just lost its scouts, the advertisers,
technology cheated them,
i got live t.v. and recorded t.v. -
ha ha... i can basically record something
and skip the adverts - magic -
interludes, ******* a ***** and pulling
out and not ******* - delayed?
no, just censored sensations of the muscle -
capitalism's crutch, the advertising mechanism
is long gone, how are they going to penetrate
the bypass on t.v.? those 3 minute interludes
are just seen at speeds x30 so for me to enjoy the
program... yes, the nationally televised
was courteous enough to let you enjoy
the whole show without adverts -
the private always seem to be the young
interrupting the old, unthinking *******
to mind respect, well, here you go...
x30 sprinting past your efforts - i need to be
thinking about the plot, not a *******
cleaning detergent or the migration of wildebeest
in africa, no thank you, take your charity
soup of tears elsewhere, i like to salt mine
to my own gusto -
a repressed storage i call it, there's a theory
in physics akin to this psychological theory:
the, big, bang - bangs in vacuum though?
a red herring? i'm sure -
but guess what, from my library the only
book i like rereading is *r.d. laing's

the politics of experience and the bird of paradise,
scout's honour, the only book i reread
within the framework of snippets, and i'm all
candy after re-reading it -
but yeah, this season 1 episode 23 -
the i.q. question:
intelligence                 is left                intact
what's challenged is the q.,
i.e.                     quotient                -
transcending into a different grammatical make-up,
i.e.                        quantity             - the        t,
the quantity of reproductive intelligence,
well geniuses are about as numerous as thieves -
both are intelligent, only the former delves in
paperwork -
so the other i.q.                            quality    related,
qualifier -                             why inspect a
quotient on a non-qualifier?
                                   well, he's already presupposed
as intelligent, no matter if Einstein 150 :
                     master & blaster (70) -
but he's still qualified as intelligent, although
at a parallel - the less useful, the more unique -
so there's

i.q. no. 1           -      intelligent by the expected quantity
                                 reflecting eugenic success -

and there's...

i.q. no. 2           - intelligent by a phenomenal quality
                            reflecting eugenic anomalies -
                          
mutation with the latter, coherence with the former...
oh come on, after being fed rigid science,
those little electron orbits in emblem of nuclear
power plants with a nucleus to later learn
that these orbits don't actually exist
because electron ontology is based on spontaneously
appearing and disappearing clouds -
much like psychology: negative thoughts,
no thoughts, positive thoughts -
the pure proton as the cartesian
i am, the pure electron as the cartesian i think
and the pure neutron as the cartesian therefore,
but see the ambiguity of the neutron?
it's inconclusive, which side will win?
well, the answer is neutral - because the two sequences
are in a stance of un-resolvable co-, i.e. coexistence -
indeed the atomists invaded solipsism
that matched up to the psychological theatricals
of theories surrounding the ego - a courtesan
of protons, neutrons and electrons, a natural at it.
EM Jul 2014
"qui es tu?"  
qui es tu? Je ne sais plus. Avant tu étais l'amour, l'âme soeur, l'ami , l'amant, le tout. Mais maintenant qui es tu? Une blessure, une vilaine cicatrice , une épidémie, une nuit blanche, un malaise constant, une pensé qui honte mon esprit, un passé douloureux, un présent douloureux? une éternité? Je ne sais pas exactement comment te qualifier. Je sens que bientôt tu va devenir un souvenir lointain, un soupire désolé, une remontrance. Mais va tu un jour allez jusqu’à en être un regrée? Qui es tu? Un lit chaud pendant la nuit, glacial au matin.Qui es tu? Un étranger, une âme perdu, un esprit fou. Qui es tu? La colère, la jalousie, l'envy, le mal, la souffrance. Qui es tu? Le plaisir, le bonheur, la vie. Qui es tu? Un espoir ou désespoir? Joix ou tristesse? Qui es tu? Une leçon? Une plaisanterie? Qui es tu? Le mensonge ou la vérité? Qui es tu? Une envie ou un besoin?  Qui es tu? Un départ ou une arrivée? Qui es tu? Gloire ou perte? Qui es tu? Le début ou la fin? Qui es tu? Un chapitre ou toute l'histoire? Qui es tu? Un sourire ou une larme? Qui es tu? Franchise ou hypocrisie? Qui es tu? La folie ou la raison?  Qui es tu? Le bien ou le mal? Qui es tu? Qui es tu? Qui es tu? Non ne me lance pas ce sourire narquois! Non ne me dis pas que tu n'es juste pas comme les autres! Cela ne me suffit pas! Arrête! Ne t'en va pas, reste avec moi, aime moi, protège moi, prends moi dans tes bras et dis moi des mots doux comme tu le fessait avant. J’abandonne, je me rends, je suis a toi, fais ce que tu veux mais ne me brise pas ..pas pour la énième fois! Efface ce regard victorieux de tes yeux , je sais que se cache en eux de la bonté. Tu sais la bonté et le pardon ne sont pas des faiblesses, au contraire c'est de la force. L'amour non plus n'est pas une faiblesse mais une bénédiction . N'aie pas peur de me faire confiance. Pourquoi cette hésitation dans ton regard? Je t'aime! Comprends le. Je ne te ferait pas mal promis. je sais que demain tu partira encore une fois, que tu n'es pas encore prêt et que tu dois vivre libre de tout ça, libre de moi, mais embrasse moi quand même, laisse moi le souvenir de tes lèvres pour me garder saine. Peut être que c'est ce que tu es a la fin, un baiser passionné qui laisse nos lèvres rêvasser d'une prochaine collision entre  eux, ce désir fou qui fait battre nos cœurs, se plaisir qui laisse nos corps tremblant après une nuit torride.. Tu es le ******
I recently agreed to leave my body to science
In return for free cremation & disposal services.
But I insisted on one small qualifier,
A precise stipulation that
The first-year medical student, to which
My cadaver is assigned,
Be female & lovely,
Brilliant & curious,
Fevered & insane,
Seeking a miracle cure for broken hearts.
The damaged among us,
Yearn for a magic elixir,
Some long lost potion,
Arcane & miraculous,
Insightful & perfect in simplicity.
A man who truly loved women,
My last woman dissects me,
I, a species of man she would master.
Cuts out my heart and weighs it,
Divines my psychology from slice of spleen.
Or liver, toxic, cirrhotic,
Surely, random entrails hold some key to me.
I--in all my incandescent incongruity--
Must render up some gender-specific clue,
As to what it is men really want;
Proving, again, the simplest answer is best.
Meenakshi Iyer May 2015
The only worthy qualifier
is hope,
everything else
in transient progression,
infinitevly split,
apropos.
Jamie L Cantore Feb 2017
I was told by A"shrink"LAST month that I had Hypermania because I talk faster than the average Joe or Jane. I said, you know, some people read faster than average too. People speak at a speed they are comfortable with. If they don't want to make mistakes during speaking, they tend to speak at the speed they read at or maybe a bit slower. I on the other hand happen to speak fluent gibberish, because I am a virtual speed-reader of *******, so I have a go at it comfortably. Just joking, I don't read *******. I will admit I should slow down when doing a Poetry Reading though, because you shouldn't rush through such. It's kind of like hauling *** on a motorcycle on the scenic route while on a weekend cruise to relax. Anyway, to top off this he claimed another qualifier for my Hypermania was that in my writing to him I was in such a hurry that I "accidentally" wrote abstruse when I obviously wanted to write abstract. I said, "Nooo, I meant to write abstruse." It is a word. It just so happens that one of the definitions of abstract is abstruse -ha ha. But he didn't know that until I told him. Abstruse- Difficult to understand. It's a word, Doc. Ha ha, WordDoc.

You told me you thought I had an extensive vocabulary in the first 5 minutes of meeting with me, so why would you assume it more likely that I ******* up so grossly on a word, than consider the possibility of a word existing without having crossed your eyes or ears? Lol You got a picture in your head of his eyes crossed, didn't you? Me too. ;)

But yeah, I was  "hypomanic" during the observation. Shhh... Even a broken clock is right twice daily.
Pompous Doctrine about a pompous doc
There's always a dum ti dum
a radio playing a so sad song
which makes you feel like you
want to hum
the 'funeral march'
but
it's wedding day for
the twosome
who some
say
shouldn't have any fun
well
**** them,

I'm sending my best to
the royal pair

I won't be there
at the marriage
no invite
no carriage
no bubbly
no cake
I'll have to make
do
with ****** all

(more writing on the sodding wall)
I.

À présent que c'est fait, dans l'avilissement
Arrangeons-nous chacun notre compartiment
Marchons d'un air auguste et fier ; la honte est bue.
Que tout à composer cette cour contribue,
Tout, excepté l'honneur, tout, hormis les vertus.
Faites vivre, animez, envoyez vos foetus
Et vos nains monstrueux, bocaux d'anatomie
Donne ton crocodile et donne ta momie,
Vieille Égypte ; donnez, tapis-francs, vos filous ;
Shakespeare, ton Falstaff ; noires forêts, vos loups ;
Donne, ô bon Rabelais, ton Grandgousier qui mange ;
Donne ton diable, Hoffmann ; Veuillot, donne ton ange ;
Scapin, apporte-nous Géronte dans ton sac ;
Beaumarchais, prête-nous Bridoison ; que Balzac
Donne Vautrin ; Dumas, la Carconte ; Voltaire,
Son Frélon que l'argent fait parler et fait taire ;
Mabile, les beautés de ton jardin d'hiver ;
Le Sage, cède-nous Gil Blas ; que Gulliver
Donne tout Lilliput dont l'aigre est une mouche,
Et Scarron Bruscambille, et Callot Scaramouche.
Il nous faut un dévot dans ce tripot payen ;
Molière, donne-nous Montalembert. C'est bien,
L'ombre à l'horreur s'accouple, et le mauvais au pire.
Tacite, nous avons de quoi faire l'empire ;
Juvénal, nous avons de quoi faire un sénat.

II.

Ô Ducos le gascon, ô Rouher l'auvergnat,
Et vous, juifs, Fould Shylock, Sibour Iscariote,
Toi Parieu, toi Bertrand, horreur du patriote,
Bauchart, bourreau douceâtre et proscripteur plaintif,
Baroche, dont le nom n'est plus qu'un vomitif,
Ô valets solennels, ô majestueux fourbes,
Travaillant votre échine à produire des courbes,
Bas, hautains, ravissant les Daumiers enchantés
Par vos convexités et vos concavités,
Convenez avec moi, vous tous qu'ici je nomme,
Que Dieu dans sa sagesse a fait exprès cet homme
Pour régner sur la France, ou bien sur Haïti.
Et vous autres, créés pour grossir son parti,
Philosophes gênés de cuissons à l'épaule,
Et vous, viveurs râpés, frais sortis de la geôle,
Saluez l'être unique et providentiel,
Ce gouvernant tombé d'une trappe du ciel,
Ce césar moustachu, gardé par cent guérites,
Qui sait apprécier les gens et les mérites,
Et qui, prince admirable et grand homme en effet,
Fait Poissy sénateur et Clichy sous-préfet.

III.

Après quoi l'on ajuste au fait la théorie
« A bas les mots ! à bas loi, liberté, patrie !
Plus on s'aplatira, plus ou prospérera.
Jetons au feu tribune et presse, et cætera.

Depuis quatre-vingt-neuf les nations sont ivres.
Les faiseurs de discours et les faiseurs de livres
Perdent tout ; le poëte est un fou dangereux ;
Le progrès ment, le ciel est vide, l'art est creux,
Le monde est mort. Le peuple ? un âne qui se cabre !
La force, c'est le droit. Courbons-nous. Gloire au sabre !
À bas les Washington ! vivent les Attila ! »
On a des gens d'esprit pour soutenir cela.

Oui, qu'ils viennent tous ceux qui n'ont ni cœur ni flamme,
Qui boitent de l'honneur et qui louchent de l'âme ;
Oui, leur soleil se lève et leur messie est né.
C'est décrété, c'est fait, c'est dit, c'est canonné
La France est mitraillée, escroquée et sauvée.
Le hibou Trahison pond gaîment sa couvée.

IV.

Et partout le néant prévaut ; pour déchirer
Notre histoire, nos lois, nos droits, pour dévorer
L'avenir de nos fils et les os de nos pères,
Les bêtes de la nuit sortent de leurs repaires
Sophistes et soudards resserrent leur réseau
Les Radetzky flairant le gibet du museau,
Les Giulay, poil tigré, les Buol, face verte,
Les Haynau, les Bomba, rôdent, la gueule ouverte,
Autour du genre humain qui, pâle et garrotté,
Lutte pour la justice et pour la vérité ;
Et de Paris à Pesth, du Tibre aux monts Carpathes,
Sur nos débris sanglants rampent ces mille-pattes.

V.

Du lourd dictionnaire où Beauzée et Batteux
Ont versé les trésors de leur bon sens goutteux,
Il faut, grâce aux vainqueurs, refaire chaque lettre.
Ame de l'homme, ils ont trouvé moyen de mettre
Sur tes vieilles laideurs un tas de mots nouveaux,
Leurs noms. L'hypocrisie aux yeux bas et dévots
À nom Menjaud, et vend Jésus dans sa chapelle ;
On a débaptisé la honte, elle s'appelle
Sibour ; la trahison, Maupas ; l'assassinat
Sous le nom de Magnan est membre du Sénat ;
Quant à la lâcheté, c'est Hardouin qu'on la nomme ;
Riancey, c'est le mensonge, il arrive de Rome
Et tient la vérité renfermée en son puits ;
La platitude a nom Montlaville-Chapuis ;
La prostitution, ingénue, est princesse ;
La férocité, c'est Carrelet ; la bassesse
Signe Rouher, avec Delangle pour greffier.
Ô muse, inscris ces noms. Veux-tu qualifier
La justice vénale, atroce, abjecte et fausse ?
Commence à Partarieu pour finir par Lafosse.
J'appelle Saint-Arnaud, le meurtre dit : c'est moi.
Et, pour tout compléter par le deuil et l'effroi,
Le vieux calendrier remplace sur sa carte
La Saint-Barthélemy par la Saint-Bonaparte.

Quant au peuple, il admire et vote ; on est suspect
D'en douter, et Paris écoute avec respect
Sibour et ses sermons, Trolong et ses troplongues.
Les deux Napoléon s'unissent en diphthongues,
Et Berger entrelace en un chiffre hardi
Le boulevard Montmartre entre Arcole et Lodi.
Spartacus agonise en un bagne fétide ;
On chasse Thémistocle, on expulse Aristide,
On jette Daniel dans la fosse aux lions ;
Et maintenant ouvrons le ventre aux millions !

Jersey, novembre 1852.
s1mpl3po3t Jun 2022
A pleasure pastry must have sweetness
As a qualifier of completeness.
the dark lettuce Apr 2015
You're talking to the air now.

It's the kind of silence after a funeral, after something has been taken that you can never get back. It's the kind of sorrow that feels like wet ashes, the kind that sticks under your nails and leaves behind heavy footprints when you run. It's the kind of pain you can get art out of, the only kind that creates but also destroys so well. It's the kind of bitterness you hate yourself for, the kind that grinds itself into your bones and sours everything you taste.

It's the kind of thing you drain yourself worrying about, that makes everything black out on the inside. It's the kind of repetition that makes you wonder if history is not so much a timeline but a cycle that's got you in a chokehold. It's the kind of abandonment that leaves you feeling at home in condemned houses; something about them resonates within you, feels like family. It's the kind of wound you refuse to let heal over; as long as it hurts at least you're grounded in some kind of existential qualifier.

It’s the kind of ache that creeps up on you slowly and then one day, before you realize it, there’s only ache left. It’s the kind of disappointment that becomes second nature, the kind that always lingers like last night’s lover, always wanting one last taste, always waiting just around the corner for the next time they scent blood. It’s the kind of loss you write poems about, the kind that’s metaphysical more than anything else, the kind that makes space wider between the letters “y”, “o”, “u”, and “m”, “e”.

You're getting older but you're not growing up; it's the kind of metastatic growth that was never any good for anyone. It’s the kind of thing you cry about in the quiet hours, the kind of thing that you fill oceans with iron over. It’s just picking swimming over sinking. It’s the kind of lesson that stings to the touch every time you go over it, the kind that burns every time you flick it open for revision.

It’s just the kind of life you’ve been living, that’s all.
SelinaSharday Sep 2020
Don't get ahead of me and write your story!

Don't go another chapter.
Thinking the mood will capture.
I'm in time standing still..
With every bit of my own appeal.
In my simple time filled maze.
My own lust craze.
A variety lost in chapter three.
You wont see my feet moving, cuz sum different I see.
Listen you stay writing mental notes
And making quotes.
Of repetitions lil mentions.
Yet I've been writing undisturbed proverbs.
While entertaining fluffy clouds in hidden suburbs.
Speaking unplainly @You
How can you
Understand me to get to
chapter 2.
And see me in chapter 3.
Tell meh you feeling Me.
Selfish..walking talking with a unheard woman.
Right now I'ma be selfish cuz there's not lots in common.
But Im avoiding confusion..
I'm made of words and proverbs emotions and quotations.
And vocals that speak of revelations.
A Queendom nation.
Bell of a heightened Resurrection.
Do I move you to deeper configuration.
Or to liquid confusion.
As a harp I'm played..
My cords play stayed.
Yet to instructions I move, frequently  gently.
Not many clearly see the harmony that guides me.
I am writer. Server..Praiser..Uplifter..Encourager.
Made to stir, seek, employ, create and confer.
A waiter..a humble soul..Qualifier..flower.
@I'm simply__H.E.R. writer.
he quickly says ready set lets go..Lifetime change making moves...The big picture, Oh let's go..
Barton D Smock Aug 2014
boy is, when sad, what father

dusts off
and coins
anew

(this was your mother’s)

qualifier-

(your mother is a lemon
god’s lemon
tows)

but back
to scarecrow, as in

scarecrow lucid, the formless

boy with knife
in lacking
wield

slouching
before a blank
television, his missing

tooth

false
Zachary William Jun 2017
But
I am terrible
at taking compliments.
Not for any major lack
of faith in myself.
After all,
I am my
number one fan

Unfortunately
when you spend so much
of your existence
surrounded by
angry
negative people
you tend to be
in a perpetual state
of tension.

Eternally bracing
against the inevitable
"but"
The qualifier
letting you know that you are good
but
you'll never be good enough
in their eyes.

Far worse than the pain
caused by that
is seeing those who
truly care
hurt
because you shrug
off compliments
as a means of protecting
yourself.

The line between protecting
yourself and opening
to others is a thin one.
And it's one we all
have to cross eventually.

And rest assured,
you did it with grace,
but...
This is an explanation to my loved ones.
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2017
gender, gender, dysphoria? you sure it's not simply
*****-envy?
      big feet, big hands story,
   piece of ****?
    dunno, sparrow cute, ease to fit in your mouth,
although large enough to give
a ******* an ******?
what's that?
    i know of beard envy, but after my late 20s
i stopped,
        why do i keep it? just got bored of shaving,
i'm being told that i need a gardener to sheer
off excesses of *****-texture ****** hair...
i just can't believe they limit the orthodoxy on
the matter...
dysphoria resembles a dissatisfaction with life
in general, it doesn't exactly resemble
the inclusiveness of the "debate" being fathomable
in a gender-orientated universe.

+1 / A-plus for the intro,
which is completely unfathomable to me...
what about dys-phrenia? the noun
doesn't exist, but it doesn't matter whether
i flip the coin or whether i take the "gamble"
seriously...
        
you know that bell's whiskey is on sale,
16 quid's worth of a litre?
    **** fine, i'm going to have luck the next
few nights...

  what was i thinking of the past 30 minutes?
ah... the ******* son of ח‎ (chet) -
revised / "improved" from hebrew,
into greek, namely into π (pi) -
      a transformation that occurred
exchanging the third-party source
of the vowel, i.e. hebrew *tzeré
,
that became the "greek" chirek / omicron,
given the absurdity of the homosexuality
of letters in hebrew being evident,
while the four remaining vowels remaining
in a "niqab"... what?
   א‎ (alef) & his homosexual lover,
the ע‎ (ayin) -
     **** as hell, bruno's nodding on that point...
might as well hide the consonants
to explore the vowels...
  heavy breathing during ***,
and the "onomatopoeia" during ******...
only in hebraic do two vowels,
that are both A, exist as worthy of a consonant
status... no wonder:
look at the summary in symbol...
  ∀ and A... move the middle part a bit down
and expand it to resemble a Δ (delta)...
what do you get? the star of david...
the universal quantifier (∀), or ע (ayin)
coupled with the particular qualifier of (A) or א (alef)...
to me, the jews provided humanity
with the perfect symmetry...
      can't help but being a judeo-philiac...
then comes the latter investigation...
a meeting of the east & the east, in the west,
namely jewish chiromancy, and japanese sūdokú...

   shin-heh-yod-heh-vav
      ש‎     ה‎      י‎      ה‎     ו‎

the puzzle ends with a variant of a chiromancy,
namely?
  
    this is how a puzzle finishes, with a desire
to invoke the pentagram, i.e.:

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

and the question marks?
hence the chiromancy...

thumb: 9
                \
                  9 - 8 - י‎ (yod)

index: 1
              \
                1 (ה = 5 - heh)

middle: 2
                 \
                   2 (ו‎ = 7 - vav) - 6 - ש

ring: 4
           \
             4 (ש = 6 - shin)

pinky: 3
               \
                  3 (י = 8).

    6 + 5 + 8 + 5 + 7 = 31...

        what's beside the point...
            i simply believe in the revision
of gematria... in order that the jews might
move away from the genesis
of this grammatoclasm:
akin to copyright laws regarding words
such as pepsi, or coca-cola...
        
i believe in meditation projects,
  but i don't think this can be achieved
through linear arithmetic "manipulation"
of words...
  i give you the arithmetic of the numbers
4, 5, 6... with respect to the letters to meditate on...
and only, only, on the japanese canvas of
a sūdokú.
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2019
haven't we reached the pinnacle
of en masse allowance
for a collective allowance
for introspection,
       introspection:
that's nothing to do with
the reflective aspect
of the same allowance granted
for the reflexive aspect
of "thinking"...
      came the day when thinking
became detached from doubt,
and aligned itself with a belief,
secular, scientific belief...
raving lunatics,
why else explain the plethora
of terms,
psychiatric: boost with
the pharma additions,
   and the pop psychology...
       random terms...
  disorder this, disorder that,
when did philosophers
ever prescribe:
cages,               words that cage
people, and broccoli stalks...
into: ugh... can't be done?
  now i speak a language i'm
uncertain of,
it's constantly suspect...
the heroic past, the stupid past...
the current scientific obsession
with i.q.: as if, it leads anywhere...
what's high i.q. for me?
plumber...
      someone who isn't
exactly driven by etiquette,
that ******* ask of aesthetic by
the ruling classes...
but at least someone,
who manages to perfect their
craft,
   to the point where
he's critique free.
                            **** me,
the jews were all over this...
why translate the pyramid
into metaphysics...
       i'd sooner want to live
in the shadow of a mountain,
than a fake mountain
in a desert...
                      i.q. i.q. i.q.,
                  inverted quantifier...
          imploded qua,
          i can go on and on and on
with ******* up this acronym..
   ("discriminatory") inclusive qualifier...
it's the sort of intelligence
measure,
that... doesn't exactly solve anything...
blocked toilet...
   i see i.q. scores...
         and two left hands...
      basically can expand
on 2 + 2 = 4,
  but is really ****** at unblocking
a toilet...
       god forbid if they can't
cook a decent cottage pie...
            how many bay leaves?
two!
        a whole all spice bud,
some nutmeg, but more in the mash,
etc. yadda yadda yo...
         at a time when
humanity is achieving its "supposed"
goal...
               becoming more and more
introverted,
          and less heroic / dumb
extroverted...
           where all that requires
discovery, adventure,
orientates itself around some *******
fetish / fantasy originating
on the moon...
                          big dreamer back
down... well... not exactly...
                   who are these outliers,
not the really intelligent people,
not the really stunted people,
i mean: this... "fizzle",
   this "in-between"...
             the buddhist middle "rank"?
the average?
                      autism, solipsism,
soliloquy, theism, atheism,
and just some plain out of sight
*******...
                     angry?
n'ah...
             i'm standing in the breadth
of time,
with some snarky ******* telling me
to either climb up a tree,
or join the ******* savannah herd...
             darwinism is such
a ******* ****-joy when it comes
to your allowance of using language
as a means of "escape"...
          as if everyone keeps
  "forgetting"...
the cosmological argument, for god,
the ontological argument, for god,
and the...
                        the free will of the other,
for no god...
              oh... wait... 'ere comes
the straight-jacket...
            the argument of free will,
and whether not or whether,
  "we" have it...
                           welcome to the loony
bin, i'm matthew,
                      conrad to some,
i hope you're welcome,
we try to respect those with
extrovert layers of despair,
i'll be your moderator,
   we only have one
       prospect of occupying
this here space,
notably within the confines
of the suggestion:
             let's find the bottom
                      of this pit;
and if we don't?
          hell...
           preserving the experience,
that's as much as life
will ever allow, democratically,
democratically, counter darwinism.
Dennis Willis Aug 2021
wonh-wonh
is the sound
of things

you expected
an adjective
there

some qualifier
limiting
apt

wonh-wonh

to what sublime
anode release
drawn

does current
does it come
back around

after it has
run off
to ground
KV Srikanth Jun 2021
Flushing Meadows 91
Jimbo had a last 4 run
Out of tune in the earlier open
Had a wrist surgery done

Approaching his 39th birthday
A few days away
Started his night which went into day
Patrick McEnroe at the other end holding sway

Two sets to love
Three games to love
Love 40
Down in all 3 parameters
Sets Games and Points
A full house crowd
Gently dispersed
Not wanting to see the Legend once fierce
Now in reverse

I got him and the match
Patrick thought but as he said
With Jimbo you never can tell
Till you shake hands at the net
Exactly what happened next
Jimmy turned the match
Third set with his lead diminishing
Jimmy said famously
See you in the 5th
Met him as promised
Shook hands at the net
2 am the next
Winning the match

Many Greats who'd left the stands
Embarrassed to see him play the losers hand
Decided the result before hand
Papers next day had a surprise in hand

They want more drama
Iam gonna give it to them
The Jimmy Connors scream
Tells us that we too can dream

Next on the other side
Michael Schapers
Reached a ranking of 25
Now a qualifier
Had a bad year earlier
Hence put thru the grinder
It was vintage Jimbo
3 sets in the row
Dutchman was a no show

Karel Novacek
The no 1 Czech
Seeded 10 was once 8
Lost in straights
Few games into the first set
Thought Jimbo was easy to get
Made the same mistake
Different story at the net
Shook hands in disbelief
Actually felt a sense of relief
The sold out crowd chanting Jimbo s name
Court converted into a Colloseum all the same
Every point Jimmy lost
Crowd turning hostile representing a lynch mob

September 2nd
39th birthday celebrations
20000 plus audience
Joining the celebrations
Celebrated in his own style
Pre Quarter final on the line

Aaron Krickstein
Standing in between
Jimbo and history
When it comes to glory
No one fights harder than Jimmy

A former world number 6
Had his ambition fixed
He had his tricks
Standing in the midst
Front row seat for Legendary Jimbo grit

Tennis Stadium sounded
Like a football game
No individual sport had garnered such fame
Tempers flying in all directions
Umpires decisions questioned regarding its effectiveness
David Littlefield in the chair
Had a lot of heat to bear
Formed a new vocabulary
Kids of that generation used constantly

One game away from
The match slipping away
2/5 down in the 5th set
Feral instincts intrinsic
Created the birthday magic
Everything he did defied logic
Fans ecstatic

Lost the first set against Paul Haarius
Won three next 3 marching into the Semi
Considered by many to be the greatest point in Tennis history
Time stopped in New York city as people went dizzy

Everything changes
On of the most uses adages
Won the US open 5 times
On all  the 3 different surfaces at different times
Clay Hard and Grass
Including the inaugural win at Flushing Meadows
Going into week no 2 a miracle
Even for a 5 time winner of the title
The story he scripted here biblical
Lost in the last 4 battle to Courier
But won the hearts forever
No sacrifice big enough for immortality
His heart the reason for his enduring popularity
My city and My people as he declared proudly
5 generations of opponents during a 20 year career none could have handled this more Wisely

Playing against him
Is like playing against an army of 40000 fans
Gathered to watch him dance
Every match sold  out in advance
Black market tickets for a 1000 dollars
No seller all buyers
Crowds outside the stadium
Matching those inside
A very rare sight
His mere presence a delight
All his opponents feared the most
As he was always a darling of the crowds
Joke goes around that even the opponents family
Actually roots for Jimmy

This is what they want
This is what they paid for
Said this aloud to the crowd
Established his legacy
and with the fans his intimacy

Greatest fortnight in Tennis
Said most of the games players and  pundits
A wild card entry  given
Their most wise decision

Sailing into the Sunset
Time he will decide
On his own terms
His name is James Scott  Connors

His tagline which he underlines
That follows him at all times
Sums up his Attitude Charisma Fame and Game
IF I EVER ENTER THIS STADIUM IT IS GOING TO ROCK N ROLL
Sru Oct 2020
A little bowl haircut
Turns to graduation haircut
Denotes his politeness.
Pupil of greyish eyes
Grown with brownish eyes,
Indicates his honesty.
A brilliant sharply nose
To genuine pointed nose,
Till spin of 108 degree....
Designate his stylish cuisine.
The wombed eyebrows
To thick eyebrows
Imply his presence.
An innocent smile
Make me with qualifier smile
Mean his fondness on me.
HaHaHa.....
In the Dimple of pit,
Symbol of his engulfing me.
The portrait of little baby
Fill out to tall boy
Buddy with a short girl.

— The End —