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Mateuš Conrad Dec 2019
and in my "hiatus" period of absence, circa 15th of April and 15th of December (minutes from a yesterday)... i've come to regret the Russians not having any... no... rather the bare minimum of orthography... surprise surprise! there's plenty to choose from! i had to return to a time when i was drilling greek into my head... naturally: a time for cyrillic was on the horizon... but... i couldn't do it with english alone... i need my mother tongue, a tongue that employs diacritical markers... again and again: english can do away with its j... it goes missing when raised to stand from a sitting position ȷ(J)... and it can cut the head off its I(standing)... ı(sitting)... to make an emphasis... i have been busy... drinking aside, have a look where i have been for the past... april, may, june, july, august, september, october, november, december:

ź = зь and ż = зъ

i'm drinking - and i am my most content - the world burns and goes about its usual wordly theatre... i'm huddling with a cameo role in the background... i am drinking content... my 3rd or 4th rejection letter! this time from : austin macauley publishers (london, cambridge, new york - sharjah - where the **** is sharjah?!) - i remember sending them a "manuscript" and a book already printed, bound... they said it would take them 6 weeks to reply... i didn't enclose an email address... i had to wait for the snailmail... my my... what lovely handwritting of my name and address... in the letter i did state: it's e(sch)lert... she omitted the (sch)... a rebecca crib admin assistant, of the editorial... 6 weeks though... hmm... i posted the letter and manuscript and the book way back prior to visiting my grandparents... circa 8th of september... it's a rejection letter... that much is true... but i'm drinking in celebration! i was making dinner in the afternoon and was asked: why are you so angry? i wasn't... i tried to figure out what i'd feel when enough of ms. amber was in me... i replied: i'm being apathetic... but now it's clear: i'm jovial! there's even a signature! an authentic signature... in all honesty... a rejection letter means something... if it is physically mailed... of course i'm celebrating! i exist! i exist outside the realm of getting spam snail-mail! of course i will reply... i'll tell them: destroy and recycle the manuscript - it really wasn't a manuscript to begin with... i pour my "efforts" on the manuscript canvas that's the html... but the already printed book? can you please not burn in... rather... keep it? i'd appreciate no 1933 Säuberung... and you know (kind reader) - i'll send this introspection to the same publisher... like it is... pop / pulp or whatever mongerel of style this has had to be... but a reply! i want to see how one might escape formal language, formal affairs, social affairs, esp. in letters - a dear ms. X / to whomever it might concern Y... kind regards / yours faithfuly Mr. Z... this has to be celebrated... given what's on the horizon... the norwegian novel viking a'comin'! the buldozer autobiography... the demand for a "death" of fiction... otherwise i'm still "here"... a "here" that truly is so distant that its distance allows my petty leeching and the world's grand fiasco theater of fire and smoke and mirrors! - after all... i'm not mad enough to be welcome to a cage if i'm a sparrow... a cage of rhyme, form and all those shackle devices / identifiers of "poetry"... the future is narrative... and the current narrative says? if you asked me to dress proper, for an opera... to don the shirt the tux and the bow (tie)... the well ironed trousers... perhaps... beside the point: air's in the head and i just wish i could heat it up... for a baloon of quasi-egoism effect... otherwise what is there... a former journalist becomes an isolationist essay-scribbler? all the best journalists retire from the profession and become essayists... polemicists... whatever... this "poet" says: no poet ever writes a novel... the real life is too fictive already... and most certain this "poet" adds: begone! lyricism and rhyme! i'll sing like the humming drone cleric of the hive of ambient refrigerator sounds at 2am when everything is sleeping...

capital: oh... so that's what it was... back circa 1990 - when inflation of currency was rife all over Poland? that's when foreign capital was flowing in: foreign money... the economy was flooded with pounds and dollars... and given the exchange rate: i remember a time when you could get circa 7zł for every 1 £ sterling... so why would a nation start to print its own money? well... because more foreign money is coming in - at the given exchange rate: apologies: i was born yesterday - i need to explain certain things, from scratch... as was once stated - there's only a finite amount of money in circulation... physical money... "apparently"... and no... if you were to materialise all the wealth in this world into either fiat or gold: there wouldn't be enough of it... but how else would inflation happen in a country like Poland circa 1992? foreign investement: the wild west of eastern europe when the soviet barricade fell... i do remember being asked a question as a child: which is more... these copper coins... or this piece of paper? on the piece of paper was written 5, 000, 000zł - i said the copper coins... i wasn't either right or wrong - the person asking the question laughed... i don't think it was a question of: there are more copper coins in the hand... than a single piece of paper... after all... perhaps i acted all trans-****-sapiens and became chimp and saw less zeros on the copper coins than on the piece of paper? how else does does a currency inflate - when foreign currency is poured into it... it's the opposite of foreign aid... you put £1 into an economy - with an exchange rate: currently you'd get circa 4, 50zł out of... so where is all this "excess" money to come from? the moment when foreign money is invested... is the moment you have to start printing your own money... imagine... if the word BLACK was worth more than CZERŃ (чернь): oh, we'd readily translate BLACK = CZERŃ... but we also need a sentence for that "to make sense"... and there i was... thinking that russian doesn't apply diacritical markers... oh... right... they're not as discrete with accents like some of us... notably? нь = ń... and so and likewise... wait wait... źródło (source)... in russian it would look, look: oh so ugly... зьрoьд-ł-ł-o... (wh)en (wh(en) but now i know this (w)oe: the soft sign (acute)... and the hard sign for... e.g. życzenia (wishes)... зъыченя (perhaps зъычениa) - point being: ź = зь and ż = зъ... now does language come to me...it never left me... but now ai appreciate the minor details... i see the english and their language and how they speak it... how they churn out metaphysics and how they call forthe help of **** similis to give history the rusty coating of: nothing between a today and tomorrow: there's only the hanging off a tree from a a tail that the chimpanze doesn't thave... everything is so very metaphysical: it's never orthographic! тe два: tak - тe: оба (there's a wikipedia mistake... U+0411 / U+0431... not o'bah... oo'b'ah...): щекaць: szczekać! to bark... eh... greek became too rigid... i could remember all the letters... always buckling on ζ (zETA) and ξ (11), upsilon (υ) and nu-nu-nu (ν)... and this is, practically nonsense to anyone with a base literacy knowledge... to exagerrate... who does mind such pedantic pleasures... when they could be somewhere else: skiing! but it's worthwhile to know how a nation's currency can be inflated... foreign money flows into the country - and whatever the exchange rate is... there is no such thing as a "grafitti compensation": then again, there is... perhaps literacy has been inflated... inflated for a second literacy of coding to be assured? otherwise? bypassing the orthodox print... bypassing orthodox editorial scrutiny... was... "nice"... until the moment when the mediator sought to see fit that the reader had more authority over the written word: having re(a)d it - over the person who had / has: written it! we do part our ways with the russians on the "debate" concerning the "cedilla" involving A(ą) and E(ę)... cedilla: yes yes... akin to garçon - waiter! waiter! please - that greek sigma at the end of a word: and all its ασπεκτς... aσpectς - that really is an orthographic statement... only Ssssssss'igma is a letter with "three dimensions" suited for it... a handwritten element... otherwise in the news this week? the apostrophe society is no more... like when you don't put a possessive article if the thing in "question" ends with an S, in english? e.g.? the colours' (sez sirs - alt. colours's sez sirs... ses-esses) imbued harmony... and that is a possesive article, isn't it? with an apostrophe: 's? it's not a plural identification - there would be no need for the apostrophe to begin with! pounds' worth: no... not a pound's worth - the worth of a pound... pounds' worth: the worth of pounds! - what's that german word... glücke! nein nein... etymological root: glück 'luck' (etymology is the new history... it bypasses journalism and serves some journalistic cousin that's powdered in dust of cremated bookworms) - and yes, a hypen can come to the fore: after a full-stop and the opening of a new sentence with a conjugation: - with disbelief / - and!

i'm not buying how the media narrative will turn Cymru into a "K-affair"... sim sim: similie or else... but these have been my greek buckles: ξ (oh... that's why i wrote 11... XI - ksi...) - it's rare to see ξ sometimes: esp. in philosophy books... rubric!

- ζ
- ν
- υ (i can be forgiven, these two letters
are not suited for print... unless working
with a microscope) - unlike a roman Vv...
- ξ

but this is just the greek... if you ever read some modern... you'd think: and i just don't know, where they get their ideas from - with all those diacritical excesses that heidegger notes...

but now... for my cyrillic mini-adventure:

from Miньsk (Mazowieцki): with love

it might be said, that if i just the bare minimum -
if i even do not write anything at all -
but i have too many petty griefs during the day
to much else than the odd, occasional chore;
at the same time i do not want to sound
amused, bewildered, bored or un-used...
it's just that i find writing and drinking before
falling to my 343rd death -
my 343rd labour for mask and then exfoliated
in a dream: that might come...
or might not come...
unless a known audience... a wake sized nieche
privy... i find either unconscious or subconscious
struggles to warm up to an anonymous crowrd...
unless it was me being propped up on stage...
flooded by light... and the audience in the din:
with barely a shadow to scratch...
perhaps: then and only then...
but i've found that: it would be best that i sentence
the 2hs spare i have for merely drinking
and loitering from one video to another:
perchance something new in music is to emerge...
"coquettish" with a "something" that will never
have any realism-focus for me to undertake
a second's day carnality of the banal...
perhaps all this: "going out of my own way"
has been too much - or just enough...
to make me drink more and take more pharma
knock-out enzymes...
a naproxen and an amitriptyline...
perhaps the focus was elsewhere...
to stand frozen in awe...
when someone might "add": from one big void:
ex nihil a priori to... nihil a posteriori...
and all this cameo theatre in between!
mein gott... i can also convene to praise those
brutal breeders of sorts...
enough time to occupy two decades...
perhaps even three...
and then the grim reality of: should my child
die... or... some other worse:
the mortal should not be inflicted by...
"not reading into the genetic clues": properly:
"all at once"...
oh i would be so much happier to take this mind to sleep:
to not make some idle focus -
to entertain some eyes while i turn aside all things
hyper-inflated in purpose...
to die of a heart-attack in one's sleep...
but otherwise to simply focus on a welcome tomorrow...
that would be...
a gracious beginning to posit the day's slouching
zenith... or... i'm not sure whether this be a coming
zenith or a nadir...
but there's still that clear-cutting focus
regarding russian orthography...
cutting it with two tongues... slit at the tip...
with english the "placebo": no diacritical markers evident...
well: a TILDE over a ȷ is no more necessary...
than a "tittle" (not thai-tle... ty'ttle) over an ı...
to borrow the greek phrase: cut one head of hydra -
two emerge... cut the two heads...
i come toward the russian mish-mash of diacritical
application...
it's not be-au-ti-ful... it's messy... it's what it is...
but already i can see what this: cutting off the heads
of the english j-i hydra looks like...
it's not enough to simply enlarge them to state: CAP(I)TAL-(J)...
the knitty-gritty... why then the tilde atop of 'em?
prior "corrections": łen and when...
is not akin to... wrak or wreck... although these two words
have the same meaning...
unless: "partisan" V comes in...
very - weary... Cracow or Krakov?
a W = a Ł = a W = a V ≠ a Ł...
Ęwa and Ądam (e nosinė) are not covered by
Russian orthography...
the list is as follows:
ż (зъ) and... ć (ць), ń (нь), ó (oь), ś (сь), ź (зь)...
the graphemes? i'll call them graphemes for simplicity...
even though: they're not the smallests units...
as are vowels... or the syllables of consonants
in the latin choir of B'ee, C'ee... e'M... etc.
ж alternatively RZ (Ż) or Ž... otherwise the fwench:
je (suis)... this is nothing more than...
an encyclopedic evaluation...
a trainwreck proposal of: should i ever be stuck in
in russia... and i would have to: read... (ee'd - r'ah)...
chop off a TILDE off the torso of the english:  ȷ...
a crescent moon lying back emerges in the russian... й...
but it's not the english: jeep! it's an english: yeep!
or a  ȷeep! alternatively: yawn could be:  ȷawn...
but not if: it's jaws... coming into play: to chatter from
the siberian cold... how else to explain?
if not by... example?
then there's the "exploration" of the greek F...
as much as in english...
фoughts on θilosoφy...
good to know the russians only "borrowed"
one of the greek Fs... "culturally appropriated" or...
wasn't St. Cyrill born a greek?!
and away from greek we move...
since χ (chi): yep: perpleX... a Ks to a Ts
(note, revision found below)...
otherwise hidden... in non-vowel binding consonants...
like... ч- and -х (although... that's not quiet a Ch-ur-hC -
but sure... some altar for siц and... no... no siPS)...
cholera! which is not: SHow me the CHow mein...
for that we need CARONs...
that's when ч becomes CZ (in polish) or otherwise:
Č... long have i wanted the polish to adopt this version...
to hide the SZ and the CZ (es'zed, х'zed) respectively...
how else to write: szczekam?
a russian would write... щекaм...
out of a "simple" ш out pops out a щ (this letter...
is probably the only "etymological" route to bind russian
to the oddities of Ęva and Ądam (e nosinė)...
ш (š) becomes щ (šč) -
whoever was to undermine the old rules
of engagement when the ruling parties gave up
a monolopy of literacy? you can literally hide an entire
letter / meaning by using a hachek...
hook...
as i begin to wonder:
how much did the slavic tribes "appropriate" greek...
and how much did the two greek saints...
try to make sense of the slavic glagolitic script?
em... Ⱋ looks pretty intact if you cut off the body... E:
reclining...
but i do come from the western lands of the eastern
lands... hence? hardly any cyrilic influence...
but i too: with my own oddities... already mentioned...
come to think of it? the bulgars joined
the "party"?
beside that? what other, russian"oddities"?
orthographic - i.e. aesthetic dictations / rubrics...
ю really is a я... the russians have this english tendency
to stress their pronouns...
i this... i that! i walked up a street! and kicked a black
cat 13 times down the street to ease my luck!
you can talk in polish for days... and never stress the I / я
pronoun... really...
and ю is just a variation of я...
throw in the remaining vowels and you'd probably
come up with some "new" russian letters...
like ye... good point... i did make a "mistake"...
щэкaм! i'm barking!
unless... that's only an orthographic question...
notably? if you're going to: zerkać...
peer in / at "on and off"... casually...
зэркaць... em... it must be an orthographic question...
ergo? i wasn't exactly "wrong"...
just bad taste... зeркaць...
i've already shown the difference between (ъ) and (ь)
in a latin script: that uses more diacritical markers
than english "supposedly" escapes with focusing
on the rather pointless TILDE over the J and I...
this "oddity": ы... ɨ  clearly it's not exactly a ł...
minor details... like a mona lisa smiling...
best example of close proximity?
take a... no... that's a hollowed out "why"...
i know how it sounds... and there are no diacritical marks
needed for it... since there's a clear distinction
that i know of, between: I J Y...
tY... this little sucker is born from the fact that...
western slavs have a name for this letter...
iGREK... funny... the russians borrow more greek lettes...
and have to have...
ё (yo), e (ye), у (which they treat like a greek would U -
never mind the greeks themselves
making the following ref. Υγ / Γυ) -
and of course the я (ya)... so no wonder i see this
"letter" (ы) as an absolutely oddity...
i could stomach: ż (зъ) and ź (зь) differences...
well that's as far as i would come in learning russian...
spot the odd ones out... proper...
й (j) and ё... which is some german loan vowel with
that ******* umlaut... otherwise...
this poo'em was born from trying to **** the english
hydra of "orthography", with its mighty bounty
of the ȷ-ı TILDE! my my... what a ride!
come to think of it... now i think i can sleep.
- it hasn't been such a waste of an hour... drilling this in:
into my head...
after all... what did the professional clarinet player
say then asked about playing professionally
in a travelling orchestra? after 30 ******* years of
blowing hard into this thing...
guess what i still end up doing?
it's not so much learning... i'm still practising!

because this will not end like some sort of "summary"...
i will remember each letter if i weave it into
this latin letter by letter...

the refleξive (x)
in that one might have χeated (ch) -
again!
what it is about an ξ-ray that is also an
"χ"-ray? the "ex" k'ss k'ss cuss...
is this what james joyce's finnegans wake
should have looked like?
again!
the cruξ of the matter...
whenever a question was to be raised about:
any χoice to be had...

i have come to grips with russian orthography...
i'll repeat... the crescent moon over и ("e")
to state: this must be elongated: й ("y") stands outs...

best examples are given by sports commentators,
notably in ski jumping...
suffiξes of surnames...
akin to -cki endings...
yes... you're seeing what i'm seeing...
we'll need some russians to work this one
out... how a C is not an S...
and how it's not KK either...
-цки... hello wet drum-kit snare!

of course not: you're not seeing N:И...
let alone: нaйт (night...
evidently -igh- is a bit complicated...
with ref. to the surd in knight - kappa and
the gamma and the ha ha ha ha tetragrammaton
left arm... vowel catcher i'd be most inclined
to borrow from the hebrews...
whenever they're not busy actually using it...
and not being a bunch of 'ebrews -
electronic brewing of tea?)
сo дaрк (so dark)...

which is the equivalent of writting english
grafitti "backward"... how it sounds...
and not for: what's the formality?
i figured: take the small steps, the trickle...
burn the eyes out with incremental poppy-seed
acts of progress... like the grand Pilgrim Emeryk
from the Świętokrzyski region of Poland
(holy cross)...
each year the pilgrim shuffles to the top of
the mountain with a speed of:
a poppy-seed's worth of distance each year...
by the time he reaches the top of the mountain:
the end of the world will arrive...

am i the next Delmore Schwatrz?
no... i don't have a Lou Reed to contend with...
am i obsessed with Finnegans Wake?
well i didn't spot any "additions" to the letters...
i didn't see any diacritical markers...
a book that shouldn't be translated since...
it ignores... a worthwhile mention
of the concept of orthography -
which is my escape from any western vogue
of metaphysics... i hide behind the omniscient
niqab of orthography... my face can be forever
hidden... but my eyes need to be on... fire!
fire! i want you to burn!

so i went to see the russians having
left the greeks... about any "nuance" bound
to the... ****-naked english language
with its magic act of the disappearing heads
off of J and I...
as you do... you "forget them" and also have to:
somehow "remember" them to be used...

do i still enjoy drinking and listening to
teutonic chants in german?
god almighty! when wouldn't i not listen to german
medieval music... when drinking?!
is that such a terrible sin?

also? i finished the trilogy of H. Sienkiewicz...
and i read some Boris Pasternak...
there was Nietzsche in polish - paul's leash said:
he's more bearable in this language,
than in english...
and how could i forget! there was...
Knausgård... Karl, Ove... volumes 1 and 2
of mein kampf...

now a "summary": hmm... ż (зъ) and... ć (ць)...
could... now... hard sign (ъ) is not exactly worth
ascription if... or rarther: because...
you don't treat a caron over an S or a C...
to "hide the english H" or the Aesti Z when coupled...
there's no need to write чъ... since?
that's pretty much in-itself given č of the nature
of чeap...
ć / ць is different in that... you'd have to hear
it first...
however... the one exception of this "rule" is already
self-enclosed in ж... which is зъ... somehow...
but not зь... examples?

жart / зъart... żart (joke)...
зьrebi... well there's no 'ę' in russian
to name: źrebię - mustang colt...
is there?
so... i was "wrong"...
in that ź = зь and ż = зъ is true...
but? ź = зь and ż = зъ = ж...
so from a "quiet unique" perspective...
and: mein gott! who's to see, travel,
and subsequently marvel at the pyramids of giza...
i'm a different version of what's
considered to be "tourism"...

give me this sole equation:
ź = зь and ż = зъ = ж
and i'll be happy for a month.
as i have been...

oh i'm back... and things have taken
SPEC-TAC-U-LAR turns and twists!
****-naked english over 'ere is gonna make
a chariots of fire runner...
i bet it will... when it comes against a juggernaut
like me.
learning russian and drilling greek until i go "blind"
The Fox Jul 2018
An I without me?
Well it could possibly
Be this minus a personality

For if not here yet I be
Maybe then I shall see
What it is to be an I without me

"But I am here!" I do say
"I can hear me when I say"
"There is no I without me"

Well honestly
It is kind of tricky
Now you are the me
and the listener,
Well, that makes 3!

"An I without me!?
Surely that cannot be!
Unless you and me is a we!"

That does not matter
For eitherway
As all of you me's fade away
What is left is not to see
But rarther all that can be
As the one between
You and Me.
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2021
-Your take on casual *** and **** is interesting. My take on casual *** is that it's self-gratifying more so than gratifying the other person. As you stated, the thirty party versus the party selling water. The closest I've come to casual *** is when I once gave a former student (a man by this time) a ******* (don't judge me). Poor guy never got over it, though. It was never repeated to his utter devastation. His begging made it pathetic and, hence, no longer flattering since he's ten yeas my junior (Again, don't judge me). I agree that **** should be watched in silence. I barely do that, either. I'd rather be having *** than watching it.

- whether it's self-gratifying is debatable... you can always find the "alternative"... the less-ushered in "conundrums" of sexuality to be made appealing... i know that's only verbiage... but there can't be anything alien for us to... given the totality of all that's human... you keep repeating this mantra about not being judged... are you dabbling in more fiction than reality? i can understand you wanting to compete with me when it comes to making casual *** as graphic as possible: teasing me with fetishes of the teacher-student conundrums... you made it implicit that i shouldn't judge you: i won't... because... something... "something" doesn't fit the narrative... i don't know what: i like to think of you as suspect... although i have no clear reasons to do so... i'm not going to have a hard-on through the mere scribble of script with what you ciphered... you want me on a leash: no? we are... playing a game of your choosing... or has literally soured our brains to the point of being so uninhibited as to ****** honesty and trust onto strangers? i'll give you the benefit of the doubt... you want me to... imagine you as a *******... it's a complete and utter: hilarity... how certain topics exist in: best expressed with images, bodies and sign language: but god-forbid the deecration of them being turned into verbiage... Braille... the new Christian H'American way of dealing with a European heritage... no? i'm not judging i'm just...  Bronzino... cupid venus folly & time... i did a "counter" masterpiece on that one... given the fact that i was equipped with the antithesis of not being prescribed the m.g.m. of circumcision... i'm not judging... but we're playing poker at this point... i don't watch **** because: i rather be having ***... i'm watching it because: i don't really have two kids... or a story of having underage students... i give ******* to! come on... it's not like i have scented candles... a reclining armchair waiting... for me to... delight others in the vain hope of reclaiming the *******... i like that little scribble of yours... sorry: i was snoozing when you didn't awake my... non-existent fetishes... then again: am i pursuing a line of thought that might: demean your authenticity as having made such feats in... oh wait... you said you didn't have casual ***? you know... when i was younger... hide & seek... made a load of sense... these days? truth & lie... the old proverb stands... lies have short... ****** legs to stand on... you're coming across as sort of... creased... i'm still not judging... you're barking up the wrong tree attempting to even attempt to get me aroused... i'm not from north ******* H'America where going to a disco strip-bar is some barometer of what happens between two naked bodies expedite consent! this persistent north american... puritanism! how the Mayans were invoked: i will never ever want to bother to know... i'm not judging you... i'm just thinking: i mentioned that i don't mind seeing you as your Avatar... although you sent me a picture of yourself... so... you're trying to reconvene my impression of you... i don't need north american ***** fetishes... i''m glad by simply reimagining milking a cow... i too would rather be having *** than watching it: but i'm not exactly watching it... the English girls of Rotherham prefer Pakistani "tenderness"... of... what's that word... ah! GROOMING... mea culpa up to what, point?! i'm not judging... but you have enough inconsistencies in your narrativ that... well... there was once a dalmation... there was once a polka dot print on a girl's skirt... there was once a "thing" known as a Swiss cheese... how's that?!


"you" really have no more reason to "invade":
perhaps assimilate...
buzz-word: ethno-masochism of the west...
and there it hangs... on the cross...
"you" really have no more reason to "invade":
migrate... whatever you want to call it...
i have nothing to defend...
do i think that the Christianity project
is nothing more than
a Greco-Judaic conspiracy theory to undermine
the Roman rule...
looks like the Latin alphabet will not be conquered
by the Semites or: the Greeks...
the Greeks sought out a Molotov-Ribbentrop pact
with the Slavic tribes
by sending St. Cyril to decipher some
Croat Church graffiti of the Glagolitic script...
so the Hebrews became abandoned...
and Christianity became a creature unto its own:
a chimera... a hydra...
a Protestant reinvigoration... for a while...
but i have nothing to defend:
i don't understand the concept of
Judeo-Christian ethics...
i understand: you slap me... i slap you back...
you punch me: i punch you back...
it is so ingrained in me that entertaining
something counter to the argument:
to pacify: to enlarge the citizenry corpus
is... abhorring to me: inherent nature
of seeking like for like...
it's not that i simply despise Christianity...
it's that i'm sick of it leeching on
vitality for what's left of life...
unless the promise of a 2nd coming is
a tickling aside imitation of a sling-shot...
but i doubt that: doubt...
oh doubt... the plethora of emotions bundled up
with something to combat gambling
addictions...
i have nothing left to be conquered...
saying that: when i watch these genius
video marshals i think to myself:
abhorring being ridiculed when i was
younger was one thing...
being prompted... being spoon-fed
subject matters that...
don't necessarily need me to be invited...
between res cogitans
& res vanus... it's hard to keep up with
one's "solipsistic" narrative...
hence the perils of being sponge-esque:
empty...
propagandist are a bit like advertisers:
to hell with journalists...
propagandists want you to think about
what they're saying...
that's just plain dandy: unnerving...
if you meditate: honestly...
a priori as res vanus
rarther than a priori res cogitans:
you see it... you hear it...
i don't want to think about what other people
speak of... hence the luxury of writing:
it's hardly intrusive... it can't be intrusive...
it must be... digested... there has to be
an invested effort: that's subsequently shared
by both the writer of the script:
and the reader of the script...
it's not... the engaged voice leaning into
the ear of the passive listener...
            is it?
            i'm glad to have discovered this sieve...
i'm not going to juggle a bunch of maxims
to begin: or end with...
i don't like to be prompted with what
i'm to think...
but i'm suddenly getting the idea that:
some people want me to think about things
that are either unimportant...
impossible to change or:
well the OR of... the tides of time...
the collective fate... if there's  collective
unconscious then there's the collective fate...
i can't go against it...
or i might: stick my head up from the current
like some Horace...
because even he didn't bother
with tightly-knit pockets of rhyme pingpong
when he wrote...
         he wrote what he wrote:
as i'll write what i write...

nice metaphors: turning water into wine...
feeding a throng with two loaves of bread
and... what's the fraction 5 to 2 worth of oily fish?
perhaps the magic still works
in South America and Africa...
i'm not even going to defend the European
secular alternative...

i'm thinking on the lines...
if Beelzebub be the lord of the flies...
there must have been a Semitic god for...
title: lord of the mosquitos...
who changed water into wine
and wine into blood and blood into wine
and wine into water?
magic tongue choked on itself
when the ******* Giza cat purred?!
like i said:
i have nothing to defend...
the women of these lands are on their
****-lashing out mantra of anti-racism /
ethno-masochism...
good luck anticipating me throwing more
into the roulette with
a replacement rate of 2.1+ to keep
a future gene culprit with an ** 21st...
up to speed on the joyride...

it's good to be out of the whole game...
by choice...
             i have nothing to defend therefore:
hell! we're building a post-racial
Europe... a vision of Brazil!
oh i'm all for it: a nation of mulattos...
Turkic-German mulattos...
   Anglo-Saxon-Afro-Saxon-Caribbean
mulattos...
everyone a middle-easterner!
it's going to be great...
the towers are here: here's to rekindling
the metaphors of the tower of Babel
and the flood:
i simply can't abhor what is:
in-evi-table... inevitable...
i have my hands either tied behind my back
while i walk casually imitating the folded
wings of a crow pecking at dust...
or there's something of a Pontius Pilate in me...

i believe the old gods: i'll bypass the Siamese
plagiarism of Greek into Roman...
after all... what become of Troy...
Zeus turned into Jupiter...
Hades became Neptune... and later the planets...
i believe in the phonetic stressors of
the Hebrew deity:
                                      vowel-catcher: ah... oh...
i believe in the vowel-multiplier:
the origin of laughter: ha ha ha...

         i believe in the imploded Y
that became Δ (st. peter's cross implosion)...
    why: it's not exactly nonsense if it doesn't
have to be rhyming: therefore suggesting
that via rhyme it might be more easily memory-erosive...
i don't require a... Julien Sorel
or a hafiz...
                    i despise all that rhymes:
bad rhyme: the seas' invasion / nibble at land...
the echoes of ping-pong...
knock-knock... who's there?
a Seljuk Turk... from the 11th century...
knock-knock... who's there?
an Ottoman Turk... from the 17th century...
knock-knock... who's there?
a timid Serb about to consecrate
himself upon the altar of
the genocide of Muslims in Europe
the remains of the Ottoman Empire...
as the concept of Yugoslavia dissolved...
funny that... when the Soviet Empire dissolved...
it was done so peacefully...
what were the chances that the Soviet Union
might have dissolved down the Yugoslavia route?
high... low? no chance in hell?

scrutinising a concern of identity theft that
began in the 19th century: and still persists...
i don't take it lightly: an identity was proposed
by some HANS...
the Silesian Hanys...
not the old Prussian Kashubian:
that so many people decided to congregate:
i'll buy the economic benefits...
but there's also the paraphernalia of secrets:
in the tides of man:
time... great emblem of this hearth...
alias of earth...
fluctuations of space between
here and... Pompeii...

   can't exactly entertain the people while
staging chess-matches on imitation
4D boards of pyramids...
how we reinvented the coliseum
and rewarded the wait with the English joke
of the guillotine...
for a people that can boast Empire building...
if only the Spanish Armada succeeded...
for a people who haven't been invaded
for so long by their kindred neighbours:
to now be... overflowing with so much... "love"...
for an abstract of a "fellow" man...
the citizen of the world is always
welcome in England...
he wasn't... back in 1997... i remember
being deported from England...
i remember being deported from England...
goods can transcend nationhood...
it's economics: good, proper... honest labour
is somehow frowned upon...
brain-drain is acceptable...

no... i have a head of a macaque monkey:
sized so...
the words can't simply be stitched into
my numb-skull so easily as to leave
me lob-sided heavily nodding with agreement...
i'll be on the nod: from
the amount of wine i'll be drinking...

his cherished prizes...
the architecture can topple...
"his": everyone seems to be playing
a grammatical game these days:
why can't his not be a dis-possessive
articulation of a multiplied ownership:
paradox...
his?? whom?
             shadows of ghosts...
i like that...

- what i don't like is thinking that: men hunt
for ***: the mammoths are extinct...
what isn't readily available:
is not worth the hunt...
                i would be expected to find ****?
if **** don't come round most
agreeably submissive...
i'll go find something else to... ahem... "hunt"...
**** this stereotypical bogus load of
*******!

— The End —