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Miss Saitwal Jul 2018
That workaholic lady who's always on call,
keeping up with the market fall.
That newly married lady with chunky red bangles,
returning to her father's big castles.

That person who's scared to get lapse,
so stays active on the google maps.
That person who swings like a kid at the back door,
Or the one who perform calisthenics on an empty floor.

That next door girl with a red lipstick,
flicking her shinny hair & gossiping with her clique,

That dreamer gazing outside the window,
That overworked soul dozing on his elbow.

That 21st century kid,
listening to Eminem & playing video games.
Or That 90’s kid,
listening to Jenga Boys & playing outdoor games.

That banker with a big fat stomach,
filled with his beautiful wife’s love.
That lady who eats like a thief,
in her big fat bag hiding a beef.

That old man who can’t stand Bombay's winding turns.
That granny spotting & criticing  every fashion trends.
That man who has Raju Rastogi’s concerns,
thinking & chanting for earns & returns.

Those kids who believe their job is to fill the voids in a battlefield,
in the still crowd surpassing like electrons into a magnetic field.

That lady sitting under cold seat like a glacial,
than standing with 7kgs in a crowded central,
& tryna stay sane listening to George Michael.

That geek who switchs from Linkedin to Arjun Reddy,
when the masses flee into the scenery.
That trader crunching numbers so rapidly,
when the stock prices go down hourly.

That person on the last seat,
diagressing from work & gazing around,
soaking in her pashmina, with a career newfound.
Kartikeya Jain Mar 2018
Once
I used to stay
on the second floor
of a worn out building
which had only half a window
and a small view of the
nearby quiet street
which had one tea stall
where worked Raju,
the boy in striped pajamas.
There wasn't a day
when he wouldn't smile
or sing his favorite
Kishore Kumar songs.
There wasn't a day
when he wouldn't get
beaten up by the owner of the shop
for breaking a glass or two
when he would bring back
the empty ones spellbound
by the tunes of Lalita aunty,
the 70 year old classical singer
living on the ground floor.
There wasn't a day
when he slept on a nice warm bed
instead of the footpath
adjoining the shop.
I would always wonder
about the secret of his happiness
and everytime I would ask him
he would laugh and tell me,
some other time.
Time passed and
I moved to another city
trying to find my peace
between changing jobs
and finding love
and all this time
I would wonder
what made Raju so happy
so one day I went back there,
handing Raju a 10 Rs. Note
and told him,
today I'm not here for the tea,
I am here for the secret.
Before Raju could say
some other time
I told him
not this time.
Raju smiled, sat beside me, and
said - "I am content with what I have. My mother loves me. I am helping my sister study to become a doctor. There's not been a day that I didn't have food to eat. I have all I need - family and love. I am sure you'll find your peace one day."
After that day,
I stopped searching for peace
in all the places it wasn't there
because it was always inside me.
I was my peace.
Raju, the hollow-cheeked overthinker,
Whose nose had grown into his navel,
Hanged himself in the hostel room

They found a note-
With rejected love as the cause
And then there was another note that read-
'rejected manuscripts'
A third one: 'to join my dead Appa'
Still another, in bold, etched letters:
'The fatal accident', and another-
Wedged in his buttcrack:
'the repressive education system' and 'the procrustean examinations'

Could it be that all of them were true motives or-
Did they represent a steady progress in the search for one?
A case of as many notes for as many selves
Or did he mean it as a puzzle, as his friends conveniently took it for, to weigh the notes and find the best?
Gaurav Gurung Aug 2024
On the periphery of Delhi, I recollect as I was on a tour,
A boundary barred the rich metropolitan society and the hellish slums,
My eyes, they landed on a barefoot group of boys- four,
Hello! I called out, they immediately scattered and greeted me with a joyous smile.

Their leader was the smartest little man I've ever encountered,
Raju was his name- full of energy, life and joy
He took a liking towards my golden watch which was a bit tattered,
I gave it to him and I swear I've never seen a much happier boy

His friends congratulated him as it was the most luxurious thing in their inventory,
Poor kids- the state and class in which they were born was pure involuntary,
I asked him, What is your dream, Raju? What is it that you desire?
He smirked and said, A lifestyle, a job, some money is what I want to acquire.

I ponder, the things we call basic necessity are their basic tools of "survival",
The things we discard and waste are their means of revival,
What do we lack? The latest devices? A less comfortable bed?
Poor fellas don't even have a roof over their heads!

I ask him, Raju, what is it that you want to be?
He says, I want to be like our Saheb- successful and rich,
I ask him, How will you do that? His eyes squinched- he gave a twitch,
He was blank and clueless about how his torn destiny he could stitch!

In retrospect, I was blank too as to what was my purpose,
I realised that I had no visions as well, I was worthless,
I gazed upon their innocent wandering faces and made up my mind,
My dream was to be an educator and teach those whom I could find!

That day a conversation changed me forever,
It changed the way I thought and saw the world,
It changed me and with my old self, I rebelled,
That day, "The Vision of a gentleman" moved me,
It changed my carefree attitude, it improved me,
It changed "The old me", it constituted "The New me"
Poverty is prevalent in every society and is not easily curable, it's not the children's fault that they were born into poor households..... Not a propagandic poem, it's just a poem about retrospection and a conversation with a poor boy
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2023
qiss kiss ts'kammen
ordeal of the dyslexics.

****** innuendos aplenty:

i cycled with a rucksack full of empty cider bottles
and one tiny 35cl where whiskey would
otherwise be found... i have a fetish for recycling,
a fetish for recycling, not owning a car but rather
two bicycles, long walks in the forest alone,
scratching my head and pretending to braid parts
of my beard: rather, pinching it and twisting the pinched
part so it might appear that i have saber-teeth either side
of my chin...
                   little pleasures...
i would otherwise be known as a: KLOSZER...
KLOSZ... lampshade... kloszer is a derogatory term
for someone in Eastern Europe who collects empty bottles
from skips to later bring back to a shop
to get his WACŁO (VATSWO) - i guess i imagined this word:
in the olden days of the early 1990s...
us boys used to play during the summer running mayhem,
on our breaks we'd go to the shop and buy
TURBO gum, chew chew chew...
and have a little prized paper of a car,
and we used to buy lemonade, later pepsi...
if we bought a lemonade (always in a glass bottle)
and drank it on the spot, returned the bottle to the shop...
we weren't charged extra for the drink...
but if we decided to buy a glass-bottled drink and not
return the bottle on the spot? we'd get charged extra:
glass was precious under communism...
KLOSZER? the person who would scout the urban
environment and pick up leftover glass bottles
for a drink of *****... but i'm recycling and i feel mightily
proud of... "proud"... of this Achilles heel...
baron of crashing chandeliers...
                     but it wasn't raining when i performed this task...
when i cycled to the VAPE shop on North St.
inquiring... i was giving this ASPIRE Typhon 100 as
a present... but the more my lips and breath snuggle on
this **** no smoke comes out... and the smoke is harsh...
coils?! coils?! over-used coils?
i walked in to the shop with the sort of would-be
girlfriend with piercings and tattoos
   and all that jingle at the counter... some random guy
sticking around for too long, i broke his train of thought...
i was trying to break past the smoke pretending
there was a dead carcass in the room and instead of smoke
there were flies... **** me... i'm looking for a new coil...
new coil she says... she starts rummaging...
it started raining by then...
           she picked up a £15 packet of five filters... coils...
PnP-VM6... like this sort of detail actually matters...
i ask her... so how do you change them?
she replies: you just pull it out...
so i pull it out... oops...
                     *** scene worded...
my flask is full of blueberry oily liquid... it spills...
all while there's this: now turning into a creepy guy
in the background obviously not buying just
trying to work his game with this woman behind
the counter... the liquid spills...
playful innuendo conversation: oh... i'm not intimidated...
i have underperformed in my life...
not exactly premature *******... it's just when
she's the madam of the "parlour" and i have no energy
and i need to chop my **** off and replace it with a *****
the fluid spills my hands are greasy
she tells me that she'll get the tissue...
oops... once more... obviously it was a super-charged
***-metaphor...
i can't remember the last time i was called HONEY
and the whole affair was brushed off so easily with
***: in my mind, guiltily displaced...
   i bought the filters and pushed when the sign on
the door indicated PULL...
as confused as anyone might be...
when, where? apart from a VAPE shop will you get to pull
out an intricate part of a tool...
spill juices and have a woman retort with: let me get you
some tissues... i mean... that's super-charged Freudian
forbid might have any choking-jokes aside beyond
the already made via innuendo...

i'm richer than the rich having none of their worries
or the follies,
i do own what the rich own: and for that i am
rich in not having to worry about owning
things that might cause me to worry -
                   if it might be only for a minute or two:
this moulded heap of cow dung
    and mud - and milk and water -
   leave behind all the chains of gravity and marry
air: marry air and rise higher to the highest
point - touch the membrane where air disappears
and what is left is the vacuum where stars dictate
what is and what isn't...

or to better translate...

    reading one poem: Zbigniew Herbert's
   Former Masters while listening to Faun's
Sonnenreigen

and as if by magic my knowledge of English
disappears in my mind to a silence...
eaten up twice, ejected thrice!

\ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \

dawni mistrzowie
obywali się bez imion

        (in der goldnen morgenstund
     ziehen wir aus des tales grund)


   ich sygnaturą były
białe palce Madonny  (und wir tanzen
                                               froh hinein
      in den frühen sonnenschein)


albo różowe wieże
   di città sul mare    (hoch hinauf auf bergeshöhen -
                      
  a także sceny z życia
   della Beata Umiltà      / -  um ins auge lughs zu
                                               sehen)


   roztapiali się   (lasst uns feiern
   w sogno              (             diese zeit
miracolo                  ( die der sommer
     crocifissione              ( hält bereit...)

    znajdowali schronienie
pod powieką aniołów        
                                                (du lässt deine raben ziehen
                                               in die felder golden stehen
                                                und das helle lichte rad
                                                dreht sich über lughnasad)


   za pagórkami obłoków
w gęstej trawie raju
                                                (muzik gemisch nach chor)
   toneli bez reszty                                      "
w złotych nieboskłonach                          "
  bez krzyku pzerażenia                            "
bez wołania o pamieć                                "
                         ­                                             "
   powierzchnie ich obrazów                    "
są gładkie jak lustro                 (es war nun ein
                                                             ganzes jahr)


nie są to lustra dla nas      (seit ich dich beim tanze sah
   są to lustra wybranych      (allzu oft in langer nacht)
                                                 habe ich an dich gedacht)
....

     sprawcie niech spadnie ze mnie
wężowa łuska pychy           (könig sommer führt den tanz
                                               dem ich folg im blütenkranz
                                               und so dreht sich unser kreis
                                               in der alltbekannten weis')


  niechaj zostane głuchy
   na pokuszenie sławy    (du lässt deine baben ziehn
                                           in die felder golden stehen
                                              und das helle lichte rad
                                              dreht sich über lughnasad)


/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

ehemalige meister
sie lebten mich selber
    ohne namen

       (w porannej godzinie, złotej)
    pull us from the grand valleys...
oh ****... incursion of the English:
the red-coats are coming!

       ciągnąć nas z wielkich dolin...

   ihr unterschrift war
weiß finger Madonna  (i my tańczyli
                                               radośni zu-hausen, W
                                 wwww to:
schdat:  frühen-para-freeze: fruit:
early... sonnenschein - sun-lighting
oblivion... sun-glee: shine...)


oder rosa türme
   di citta sul mare    (wysokie
                 ÚP z  
wyżyny górskie -
                      
  und auch sZenen mit leben
   della Beata Umilta      / -  um ins auge lughs zu
                                               sehen)


geschmolzen sich   (liście nas świętować  
in sogno              (             ten czas
miracolo                  ( there the summer, to i too
                                           that: there, the: to i too:
                                        ta jedyna stokroć:
                                         zerk chłodem oka: powieka...
                                   okno na świat... rano:
                                              i modłem: terz:
                                          anatomia bosa noga...
                                    dzicz: bosa noga boga...
rap rap... all that rap might bring to suffice:
the polyglot presence of an African incursion
into Europe... mumble mumbo jam: tát tát... jum-b'oh!

a thought experiment one awry: trying to exclude
English from my psyche for a little while
proved insufferable, even if listening to a song
on Deutsche and reading a Polieren script...
sneaky ******* has a way to return...
i wanted to keep a perfect translation
of: reading a script in Polieren while listening
to a song in Deutsche...
subsequently translating the read Polieren
into Deutsche and reimagining hearing Deutsche
al Polieren... not in the right interest of
the English philosophy ("esoteric aesthetic")
of queuing... ****** just butter in: elbows held high!

SMUTNA SUKNIA: OGIER: PEJCZ!
   co stonoga-noga-o-gołą: nogę...
widmo... język... mów a mowa...
                                     bzdeta: mów!
ogier: stonoga... wilko-kroć...
  step... mowa: noga... ogień: zór...
jęk: kleṅska: ogień: ozór...
                            język: ksieżyc...
ogień: rosputsta: i nadal mi brak słów!

     crocifissione              (trzyma gotowość...)

    sie fanden zuflucht
unter augenlid auf engel        
                                                (wypuszczasz swoje kruki
                                               by stanąć na złotych polach
                                                i koło jasnego światła
                                                zakręty samo-w-się nad
                                                lughnasad!)
 ­                                     

   hinter hügel wolken
in der dicke gras auf paradies
                                                (muzyka­: tylko muzyka,
                                                     bez, słów)

   sie ertranken ohne der rest                    "
im golden himmelneigung                       "
  ohne schrei auf grusel                             "
ohne anruf um erinnerung                       "
                                                               ­       "
   oberflächen ihr gemälde                        "
sind glatt wie spiegel                 (to był jeden dobry
                                                           ­  cały rok)


nien sind dies spiegel für uns
   sind sie diesser spiegel die ausgewählt

                                               (odkąd ja i ty na tańcu okiem wgląd
                                               także często w dłuższej nocy)
                                               miałem ja, myśl twoją)

....

     mach es möglich lassen werde fallen
    von mich
serpentin schale auf stolz  
                           (król lato prowadzi taniec
                           za którym podążam w wieńcu kwiatów
                           i tak obraca się nasz krąg
                           w znany sposób)


  lassen ich werde bleiben taub
   an verlockung von / auf
                       RUHM        (pozwalasz odejść swoim dzieciom
                                              stanąć na złotych polach
                                              i koło jasnego światła
                                              odwraca Lughnasad -

                                      
płuco - singular... plural?
   płuca... lungs....
    garden of breathing!
soul always escapes the noun...                       

\ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \

just to double check, translating from ******
to German and German to English,
that how i would have otherwise arrived
on these shores if my only mode of transport
was the tongue:
if i had no legs and perhaps no eyes...
if i were an idea of English that could express
it as I, Ja, Ich...
        and, yes, theirs'...
       iota > whatever might come after...

ah! this is one of those thought experiments!
it has to be! i'm excited!
i'm truly awakened!
this muddle of memory, dream, imagination,
reality a sprinkle of words and hey presto!
starved from images having moved
from the Age of the Image
to the Age of the Music...
it's so simple...
once upon a time you could only hear
music if someone played it good
or you played it badly...

yet when someone wrote a word...
or when someone painted a painting...
it could be written once
yet preserved by time
by this ingenious overcoming of God
(no, not man)
and if god "wrote" mountain man "wrote"
Pyramid,
if god "wrote" river man "wrote":
boat bridge watermill...
if god "wrote" forest man "wrote":
pluck out these trees stop looking
for berries and mushrooms...
look for grass, edible grass! find me arable
land that's not a desert!
of once mountain ranges that passed
from time into non-history
    into keepers of time by the whims
of the fluted wind...
                  
by wind my breath...
by my breath the decay of creative rust...
     i can only create dead things...
with me the power of death-creativity...
i invented the stirrup with me gone
the horse might finally not graze so easily
after the work of civilization has been done...

only then might the four horsemen
come with me dead and the stirrup
   i can only create dead things...
i am the death-creativity...
with me there will not need for the fork
or the knife the spear and the rope
upon waking a new world
i will only know words like mountain
apple tree i will know the word cloud
i will know to say the sea and that sea
i will call the caspian sea: sea...
and the atlantic sea: sea...
    and i will call the Danube the Oder
and the Oder the Vistula
but i will not know what is Danube or Oder
i will be unable to say or dream or conjure
a fork without: the fork
i will be in Paradise...
i will not know the concept of ******
because there will be no word for ******
there will be no Madonna or pregnant woman
there will be no foetus there will be so many words
missing! so many words will be missing...
all the basic words of coordination
will be there: and the Highest Abstracts
will be there: will, hope, dream,
    there will be there: be, am and i,
             there will be: because, are you,
there will be giggle and there would be crying,
there would be sad and there would be happy...
there would be: because and after and by
and there would be...
there would be no knowledge nor anything
concerning grammar...
this revision of "vocabulary" would imply
there being no real vocabulary,
a dream-world vocabulary of:
if said thing goes not exist... there's no word for it...
there would be no word: hammer
because there would be no need for hammers
indeed: nails...
motion of hammering...
there might be a rock and a trick of a hardened shell...
there would be no word for distance:
mile... by looking upon the sun...
there would be the Eye of the Blue
and the Eye of the Navy-Glee... there would
be no Night no Nothing
    no Night in this Hanging Pyramid of Babel...

there would be no Moon or Sun
only the Eye of the Blue
and the Eye of the Navy-Glee...
Glee? SH.... what's SH in shIMMER?
what's IMMER?
(oops... a Socratic stumbling block)
   immer... ALWAYS...
      what's SH+H? shh? be quiet always?!
SH... sound, vibration is sound...
            shh! yes: i'm telling you: it's going to be
like that, always...
   promised you 72 virgins?
wouldn't you just want your mind un-muddled?!
what's un- and muddled?
un- is not... not of when coupled to a noun
that works like a verb... doing the muddling...
medley muddling mummifications: toilet... paper...

toilet? no... no knowledge of toilet in "heaven"...
no paper too...
     word... what's word?
God... what is God... no God...
word is the a priori already invested crown
of curtailing words to begin with...
not imitation sound: __S

ah... sobering up... i love this bouncing along of English
dynamic like everyone is invoked to be involved...

                                          Z__­___

that's how the West met the East in writing

Z_________S

my "god" will be the word ONOMATOPOEIA...
and his son will be MIMIC
and his wife will be NĀMÉ
                        alternative written by angels
as NAMEH... because by then only angels will have
knowledge of the clue, not God,
of YHWH... YHWH will become as comical
as the 21st graffiti spray-painted by some boy
in the outskirts of London...
this scribble should have been preserved by the angels,
but like Prometheus, the arch angel Samael
brought down this scribble...

they brought the mummies and their hieroglyphs
that turned out to be Emoticons...
the Egyptians had two brothers...
the brother Aztec who copied the eldest
brother, Egyptian in constructing the Pyramids
and brother of the Great O of the Orient
who squinted his eyes with avarice and lineage
and said: i'll write like you, i'll see through you...
you give me mummified bodies
i'll give you skeletons...
the Aztec was the youngest,
the Egyptian the Eldest...
  the Khan was in the middle...
and Khan was right... he employed a pre-digitalisation
of scripts... imagine throwing
the letter G into Egyptian hieroglyphs...
some ****** did that to Khan's great counter
of hieroglyphs full bodied...
to hieroglyphs pure skeleton...
prior to Latin: not even Greek was a skeleton-key?
what? letters marrying numbers?!
unheard of?

1111111... one... lllllll (little l)... IIIIIIII (big iota)

imagine dropping a latin letter into Egyptian
"script"...
look what happened when someone dropped
something foreign into
Chinese hieroglyphs and so was born
Katakana... Chinese hieroglyphs came first...
then came Katakana...
then came the elevated:
if the story is true... and the Austrians
think themselves better than the Germans...
someone gave birth to the scribbles...
Korean came last...

       that feeling you get when you're trying to look
for an actor's name:
he playss the role of Grand-Duke?
Emperor? of the Habsburg Dynasty...
the elder brother of Marie Antoinette...
beautiful actor...
                          lips like purses...
who threw that ******* bone against the Chinese
hieroglyphs that spawned Japanese minimalism
that translated: ha! translated Chinese through
Japanese to Korean... split the ******* in two...
towing two! towing two!
                          Zhin Chin ****... silly!
   i'm not joking...
           Žin vs. Żyn... Rzym! Rzym... Rome! Rome!
hmm...
           Źın...          Žiń...
  
ha ha... the Nazis smoked out the son of the devil
of the people who gave them abode for almost...
whenever Poland, converted (insert a snigger...
i have the noun-spelling for it...
but not the onomatopoeia, ha ha... laughter
and rugby)...

change of direction at work...
i'm feeling an aura of: DISTANCING...
people are feeding off the appetite of me: leaving...
and their lives being over...
of course they will not be over...
they'll be feet in not worn shoes
in shoes boxes on shelves in libraries
of fickleness of the female side of humanity...
only angels should have been given
the crack-head code of the 4 letter "signature" of
YHWH... i'll give Jesus credit...
well... Beelzebub...

HANGU:L! that ingenious king of Korea
that: seeing a stick being thrown
at a bunch of sticks assembled as a shelter
of the Chinese hieroglyphs witnessed as the Japanese
folded... worked on an argument
of introspection: kept it...
hmm... what are those weird ISLADERS
******* around it?
they have the BOLD katakana
and the ITALIC hiragana...
two ******* trenches...
just let some westerner know:
the Hiroshima (katakana)
and the Nagasaki (hiragana)...

   Chernobyl and Fukushima...
the pregnant women were advised to drink iodine...
boom! boom! boom!
ergo? no real, comparatively: "boom" as boom!
or  BOOM...

it's the second morning i'm woken up from briefly dreaming...
point about dreaming? the content doesn't matter...
i'm not a hyper-focused Freud...
dreams are dreams in
how fog is fog and a hurricane is  hurricane...
dreaming heavily:
you feel exhausted if you slept for 10 hours
or 5... dreamless...
you slept: you didn't dream...
but dreams creep up on you:
they play fakery with your body:
you weren't sleeping: you were dreaming...
unlike getting blind drunk
and... sleeping: not dreaming...
with the lesser baggage(d) people...
snails? no... elephants! no ivory tusks...
already no fur... no drunks...
edible cartilage of the ears...
flapping... hmm... i might have to invent
a rug... a place to take off one's shoes...
shoe?
shoe prior to sock? obviously...
shoe prior to sock...
sexed up legs... procreation by the chemical
demise of acting...
if not sold to actors:
a god-send...
i could **** each any every ugly *****
but... god almighty... the impossible feats...
with Xerxes on your back?
the second battalion ambush of Greece?!

currently as is "currently": and, ahem... "history":
a history of plug-hole psychology
of inescapable Darwinism: cuckoldry...
or Plato's ***** joke about the feminism
of Hindus and their tired, wasted concern for Hygiene...
they bathed with the dead...
so the dead came and ate up the living...

for the past days... of note... two...
upon waking i hear my name being called:
Mateusz!
not twice, thrice, just... once...
i rush down and ask my mother: have i overslept?!
did you call me?
the replies: no... i haven't called you...
why am i: Matthew?
                     i don't think i'm: Matthew Smith
or a Matthew Czopek or a Matthew Eschlert..
or a Matthew Matthews...
why was Jesus Christ not Jesus ben Josephus
ben Matthias?
                i wonder... not really: "wandering"...

it was but a little nugget of inspiration of marijuana
and i went off the tangent...
i would not replicate the original ******
poem into German
   and the German song into ******...
because... springboard og ingenuity
English woke up!
as if: spontaneously...
i can't appreciate poetry written by
mono-linguists or ****-up: kissy: tut-tut..
smooch kiss-up immigrant ****-wits
of: this is only a Lingua FRANCA...
"franca"... a tourist-tongue...
it's a ***** tongue...
people speak it, leave it, abandon it...
sometimes perhaps frame it...
it's a tongue of commerce and Babel
and... at the end of all the tongues coming
together to speak it...
a rather: unsatisfying tongue...
over-salted... over-pompously-self-solidifying
complicated-soliloquy... solipsism...
something this: that: self-
    +-evidently apparent that children ought to
be teaching this modus operandi... *******... ha ha!

letter will not be know since words will not be known,
we will, although know words, that will be sounds
not scribbled down, imagination will be
nullified and nothing will be born with sleep
and dreaming will be alien to us,
since we will not be myopic
*** will be friendship and: we will know not
the word for tool and the specifics of ingenuity
and genius...
there will be no word for man...
and there will be no word for woman
and there will be no diatribe of death and child...

my uncle is in hell and i can almost count
this auditory hallucination:
i will have no concept of auditory: because i heard...
within the non-existence of my bones
and body and blood and brain and heart
in the water and earth turning to air
with each breath...
i will not hear... how my uncle: calls for me...
and how did you live with your mother,
when she aged to a nearing rot...
i lived with them and not people i would exchange
for a properly working bicycle-lock...

for each ******* i would replace the glorious
half hours i had with them
the months i spent with my supposed "lovers"...
i'd take one half hour with a *****
to replace the courting with said woman: unsaid:
to procreate and teach "my" children:
children of the times... flawed lessons
of the march, ancient march of typology
and non-writing and Time as Dust...

am i to help you when i implored the non-existent
deity into my *****,
indirectly you might implore for me:
will i reply to the heaven sent:
what am i to do?!
do as i did: absolutely nothing and nothing too,
that's twice that's hardly not a scone
scuffed and chained to Baron Zung...

            speak two tongues and tease a third...
come the fourth... letters have to turn into images...
in this heaven of no sheltered virgins..
in my noun-basket i will not have words
like pen, or: boiler, roof, eyeliner,
i will not have:
          screen, cinema, actor,
           philosopher, poet, psychologist,
soul: i'll have my self-eating cannibalism of breath...
verbs will merge with nouns
and the only nouns worth existing thereby will
be: specified and "corrupt" by a localised
specialisation:

                 god will be ONOMATOPOEIA...
the son will be MIMIC
and there: within the confines of said time
MIMIC will battle Chimera...
MIMIC will look alike: Chimera
but Chimera alphabetically:

    CHIMERA = ACEHIMR

                   the dead are not so displeasing
when it comes to the living-as-if-dead...
and there are plenty of those
living such: body-and-soul-crushing...
no... i couldn't imagine myself marrying
a troll... just to somehow oddly fit it...
i'm not going to reply to a message:
me and Nicki... says Frankie... are over...
reply: to what? and did you hear
my side of the story? no? no?!
i don't have to hear your side, either!
oculus per oculus!
like for like:
dislike for dislike!

           i'll wait... i'm not actually waiting
for anything other than:
can you please leave me alone?
i'll reply you whenever i feel like it...
i don't feel like
wanting human connection for at least
two days...

there's a hell and a privacy one earns to have
earned it that one rarely wants to
have it made public...
albeit in the "public anonymous"...
all the more willingly... since no immediate
consequences are to  be met: face-to-no-face...
tired of replies...
walking lesbians into the night
is like pretending to not walk
cows into the slaughterhouse...
ego-***** replacing what once was?
Plato the Plumber and the blocked toilet
of reincarnation...
i'm done with pride... Herr Dapf...

             for the waiting to be dead,
falte der primast schattierung:
für das Warten tot zu sein:
ich möchte auch tot sein...

   a death with the hollows
of the hallowed wooded emptied bark....
suffer the sound of a thunder-stroke...
donnerschlaganfall:
all aligned with things living...
nearly: or waiting to be towed toward
A... death...

           morgen?
                          tòmāté...
*******: SPUD!
           morgen butter-kneaded? by the hollows
of said, suggested juices..
my knees are not enough:
meine knie sind nicht genug!
Johnny Noiπ Apr 2019
At the General Assembly Conference;
The Song of Solomon to Live in a Part of Christ
and restore the city. 1 and this will not
let it be unfair; not only price. For example,
Luis Díaz de Nina Raj Mouse Ike Aziz time.
None of the bears are from Africa he thinks
that the sun is Hanania, and John said
Australia is good! changes to buy john look
great Italian-Americans are drunk monkeys.
Cicero Spirit Possum; Also in the old port =
you forgave the pain of Russia suddenly Al
Jazeera Man from Manadian Balbao; And
margin Between the wars. In the summer of sv.
Thomas planted Gimperto | dogs. However,
senator father's favorite child said: Germany
was in shock Fourth Watch Huntersville La Mix
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Israeli people Princess Torrevagor. Canarian;
Canadian Italian gold over trees on Brazilian
Saudi Arabian summer; Saudi Arabia food and other
Internet connections; Youth in the city. CIA
Kanigher Bushfighter, Los Angeles. Tokyo Radio
is a suspect. However, this is not the case; Another
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Mexico Especially the preparation of gifts Dio 1
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This article by Silvanios Paul 3 today in Las Vegas
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Los Angeles, Alan's vision of new problems
meaningless. Photography in Ireland. in the town
Jesus, the vulnerable ******* witch. Paul bell
With a serious schedule of infections. output;
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Then choose a table in a blue sea animal. Mar del
Connoisseurs of Smart Press Press. Eco Trust Rocca
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not wear in Africa he thinks the sun is hanania
and John said Australia is Good! change to buy
john chase the great Italian monkeys are Americans
drunk. Cicero pressed the spirit; Also in the old port =
you made grief in pain. Russia suddenly Al Jazeera
Canadian Balbao; And Marcie Pappin Between
the war. In the summer of sv. Thomas planted Cimperto
| dogs. However, the child loves the senator. Father
said: Germany was shocked The fourth hour
Huntersville. Sandwiches with a cup holder; Poets
like pajamas and wheat. Ferrandi What are you doing?
Rome? Israeli people Princess Torrevagor. Canarian;
Canadian Italian gold over Brazilian trees in July,
Saudi Arabian summer food Saudi Arabia and other
Internet connections; Youth in the city. CIA agent
Kanigher, a Bushfighter in Los Angeles. Radio Tokyo
is a suspect. However, this is not the case; Another
word in the world and a bucket to express the image
of water in the palm of your hand so from the park
however it should not include not current text message.
Einstein Blue William M. Divided into society
or with safety. Udi some kind of music; Mexico;
Features of making Dio 1 gifts and entertainment;
Mimosa scars When the lungs are turned on. |
The mission is astounding; the unity of the essence
of the free demo song. This article by Silvanos
Paul 3 today in Las Vegas John. Spaniards gave
it to him HEMP customers are cheaper
Johnny Noiπ Apr 2019
"In the general conference of the fitting;
The Song of Songs of Solomon, that they may live,
with Christ, and to repair the city. 1, and that
does not harm the; not only the price. For example,
and Luis Diaz De Nina Raju. this time
Ike Aziz mouse. Nor is there any green thing
out of Africa, Sun thinks said to Hananiah,
and he said: John, Australia Hi! Changes to buy
a great john in America is drunk watching the Italian
monkey. Cicero spirit pessume; Also in the old port =
thou didst commit fornication with pain. Russia
is suddenly Al Jazeera. Canadian Milbao
a man; And Marcin Pappe Between the war.
In the summer, St. Thomas planted Jimperto |
dogs. The love child But the father said to a senator;
Germany At the fourth watch Huntersville shock
At the mix. Sandwiches old roller coasters;
Poets such as pajamas and wheat. ferrandi
What are you? Rome? The Israelites people.
Torrevagor the princess. Canarian; Italian
trees with golden skin from Canada into Brazil,
July, Google meat in the summer Saudi Arabia
Saudi Arabia and other Internet interconstruction;
The youth of the city. CLA Lansingen bushfighter
Los Angeles.Tokyo Radio suspect. This, however,
is not true; Another word in the world, and a bucket
of water; To express the image of the palm so it's
out of the park, which has it does not include
a modem is not a text message. Azure of Einstein's
William M.Toe-kick or a divided society with its own
safety Now some music Udi Labrila Mexico
especially Some of the preparation of the gifts
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with the lung inclusions. | The mission is striking;
the unity of the essence a free demo of the song.
3 today in Las Vegas This article Sylvamos Paul,
John. spanish They give her sons made themselves
vile bisa customers KEMP sky prostitutes. Greek
brother High capacity in areas such as Russia,
pray 1 you; The use of prostitutes exhaustion;
common donkey gave him his hand; In unknown.
Oh, the church draws with United. Dell bought
developer DIABLO Boer delay in voting
so that his soul was not Colster his wife is;
laminated wings; Red Angel; Cameron does not
follow that this is true: Mohammed when they do.
For that he did for the sake of that to specialize
in the care of the evils of the enemy. plastic bottles
and shores harlot. Does not force us to believe,
and I will not In light harlot a In order to be self-
subsistent, Australia.Teacher stress and pain
trumpet Los Daniyo, and of great destruction.
Angeles, the vision of the new issues Alan's
harlot. The photo star from Ireland. in the city
Jesus, a vulnerability prostitutes viral. Paul Bell
When programming a serious infection. The exit;
Macro and if they fall into ruin, from the fact
of Fusarium oxysporum f.sp. F As an actor
And travelers harlot. Until Arab business.
Also read; The poet's brain. Jim easily belong
to the chill. The hotel a little at Sam's one of those
short the controversy; Then choose a table
in a blue sea animal. Mar del connoisseurs
of Masala wise Press Marques. Eco-trust
Rocca Quattro pumpkin. Sometimes, because
of the dangerous developer Bolcham and clinical.
Ronin and elegance. Enter into 1 "Intrade".
Johnny Noiπ Apr 2019
In the joint interview; Rental of A
beautiful song of Christ, Carl Ciudad
lives. And it does not hurt 1, the price
of not only United NINA And Luis
Diaz of Raju Ike Aziz Since this is our
mouse In time. Titanic thought of Africa's
green Alcoa Animalis, John, Australia Hi!
Americans great. John Hannah monkey
Watchs buy the changed Italian. Plato's
spirit; And, of course, vice versa port,
and all that old = pain. Russia is suddenly
Al Jazeera. Canadian Milbao. Canadian
man to man; Marcus Pappe marcin the wars
of the middle of the summer, St. Thomas
planted Jimperto | dogs. by For the love
child of a Senator of the parent; In the fourth
Germany, Huntersville Wake up and stir
the mixture in the mountains of Old Russian
sandwiches, genetics, Poets were like pajamas
fire Rome, Ferdinando, What is done to help
people. Torrevagor de la Reina. Gold fruit
trees Caniana Freeskin; ambassadors
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other in the bottom of a solid From
summer. Canada, Brazil, Saudi Arabia;
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The youth of the city. Lansingen CSIA
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Water World Water Park Palm images
do not include a modem Expressed
by the quoted text. Marcus akot Azure.
Einstein's health divided society
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Now, Mexico Labrila. Entertainment
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El Cielo y Los Esperanto children. Greek
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So light and entrust it to a halt, Australia's
stress Inc trumpet consumer Los Angeles
that is why it was in large Daniyo, New Vision,
and asked Alan Pictures of Ireland star
in the city of Jesus a vulnerability, and viral
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The output ruins the destruction of Macro;
Fusarium oxysporum f, as an actor, and vectors
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Mexicans care easy for the brain Jim poet
Sam Dolittle's hotel is controversy; To sum it
all up on the table in a blue sea Agreement.
Suns choose the animal savvy Masala barbarians;
Press Mar del Marques. Eco-fi de Rocca-
pumpkin Jaguar Culture Sometimes clinical
risk Bolcham Ronin to a state of civilization.
B Bozo He was inside, "Intrade."

— The End —