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Mateuš Conrad Aug 2016
globalisation does this, all in favour? aye! all in opposition? nay!

                                        multi-cultural societies
and their pastas and pizzas,
their curry take away, their Chinese noodles,
their Thai their Sushi, and the Turkish kebab -
it's a smouldering cauldron of simply
no identity, eat a raw herring and pack your
bags to Scandinavia -

                                      if i came with a strong
rooting in Slavic myths, the identity of the land,
the dwarf gods of the forest (bořki - ate the
z of what would have been a German equivalent
ß - but here, the erzett - or to put it otherwise
for aesthetic purposes: ż - no, no one is
illiterate, it's just that people haven't been told
that we write for aesthetic reasons, as well
as functioning / utility reasons -
i am an orthographic reformer - i want the greatest
upheaval in language) -
                                
                                Argentinian steak houses -

but otherwise eat a raw herring and pack
your bags... globalisation will not make any of
us proud of our ethnicity, or culture bound
to birth, there must be a way out -
social patriotism intact, after all a universal
thing to mind: the golden rule - never do unto
others what you wouldn't want others to do
unto you - but we need teeth, we need grip...

we need myths! as of the neighbours of the Baltic,
and England unique as having experienced
Cnut but not Vasa - nothing cliche about it -
the folk element is there, and i fit the bill
for the looks - that's the easy part -
but in heart some third language that makes me
feel, purely feel, and not understand -
that's neither Polish (too personal, goes to the bone
and is reflexive - insults against ethnicity) - nor English (too
personal, goes to the brain and is reflective -
insults against intelligence) -
                                        
                                             a third party associate,
one of pure heart, raw berserk emotion -
befitting a poem at every turn -
i need a language of mediating these two cripples -
i have no care for liver for kidney and now, apparently
even the brain... **** it... let's stick to the heart
and keep it the essence of all things soulful -

as soul known to chemists be: the one element of
man that's indestructible - for whatever reason,
the love bound to reach the highest of alchemy's
mysteries - the more verbiage necessary to stand firm
with a love for your enemies - the philosopher's stone
refers to the heart - as is the depiction by Luca Signorelli -
the genius element being the left hand ever
present through the robes -

                                                 how to give the left hemisphere
under siege a spy's stealthy hand in diabolical matters,
in perfect equilibrium with the right's natural strength
at holding quill or sabre, condensed into mutually inclusive
by a keyboard -

so unto the heart of Scandinavia, esp. that Faroe dullness
for the mind to fathom when the heart born from
such lands sees a heart entertained by the bleakness
and the Orca poaching season of reddened northern waves
in the marina, where the Orcas are grouped together
and slaughtered for food -

so as this goes on - a return to the most poignant critique
of mutli-cultural society - well, not really...
just this debilitating status quo mediation between
mr. anonymous and mr. famous -
fame isn't fame as it used to be known -
by fame i imagine Galileo - by fame i imagine Copernicus -
by fame i imagine Kant - as pretentious as name dropping
might seem, fame for me equates itself to sustenance -

nourishment - a welcome return of debate and the unresolved
plucking of those floreo interrogatio -
not what's now just the same as packaged goods -
toothbrushes are also famous, so are tables and chairs,
lightbulbs are pretty famous too...

celebrities that are nothing more than packaged books -
what exposed them? they all need books, autobiographies!
that's what exposed them... they did the opposite
of what the Nazis did in Munich that one time
with that one time bonfire... these books are already burning,
well my mind at least, if you touch them i'm sure
they're quiet cool.

                                better than fame, better than
posthumous "fame" - to live a life that will give rise
to a myth - to apply yourself, not to any specialisation
with a logic as its suffix - i.e. not ontology, not biology,
not psychology - like mathematics being the queen (królową)
of learning (nauk) - mythology is the king (król)
of unlearning and of awe (oduczać się) - which does

not entirely mean neglect - once you have learned to
learn to ride a bicycle, once you learn to swim -
these two are very much hard to completely neglect and
by neglecting forget - here then,

                                         while the rats scamper and scuttle
for the big cheese and perfectly flossed teeth -
a ceramic doll's face - i'm in the forests in the dark of
night - a forest heavily influenced by the perfumery
of wet autumn leaves fallen with their drained
green chlorophyll allowing space for the perfumery
when at night the earth breathes, in the colder months -
the earth looses and Ypres mud wets the shoe.

globalisation also shows the ugly side of monotheism,
Christianity, you can't possibly think is a serious
monotheism, can you? three in one, two for one,
buy two get the third one gratis, what with the pagan
elements of the Christmas tree, chocolate *****
of castrated hares to celebrate the crucifixion (crucifix
jewels on the necks) and Santa Claus that's merely
an an anagram of Satan's Clause, something to do
with the jurisprudence of: well, technically not vanquished,
left standing in Mecca counting how many
loafs of bread are under his feet from the Muslims
throwing pebbles at him.
June May 2019
I am shades of midnight, shards of the same galaxy collapsed and contrasted to tiny little ***** that grow like eggs not subsumed by Mars quakes.
I am faulty genes, x-rays, heart scans, and red cells insufficient.
I am sexuality in a world yet to be explored by I and me.
I am a jar of dry camomile leaves turning to shades of sunlight spreading over the river leaving spaces for evening lights.
I am petals of the stars waned to the fragrance of flowers travelling with wanderlust from world to world.
I am insights from colours of black, white, golden, everything. I am a sanctuary of solitude, edging on certainty.

I am the oscillation between feeling brilliant at birthing my art and really quite derided at churning consistent literature.
I am the east London girl left with derelicts of poetry originating from Alfred Hitchcock films.

I am the walk by the sea that gives the feeling of the wind coming off the waves. I am the travel between seasons on railways to off-the-beaten-paths destinations through countrysides and beyond to flea markets collecting memories, soul and travel tchotchkes.


I am Sunday breakfast and tea in bed, buried inside heaps of sheets, using body warmth for shield.
I am pure joy, one whose heart howls with laughter and a face whose grin is as silly as the scowl of a Cheshire Cat with a hissy fit. I am a numismatist and I am the girl who collects stamps and inherits vinyls owned by my father from the 1960s.
I am coffee without cream. I let the days and the weekends amaze me like my time in Hamburg.
I am the random stroll to the local Signorelli bakery to have an almond croissant and fresh Italian latte and a nice chat with the ******* lady.
I am a creation inspired by the likes of Thomas Hardy, Francoise Sagan, Zadie Smith, the humour of Lucy Mangan, and the wit of David Sedaris.

I am her, ambivalent between jaunting between rural and suburban villages, bustling cities and seaside towns. I am soul inspired songs by the Upsetters and likes of Otis Redding’s ‘cigarettes and coffees’. I am stuck between layers of diversity notwithstanding an identity of complexities.
I am the cheateu in the north of Bordeaux where we did that thing and the grandfather clock chimed and we laughed so hard, we choked.
I am excitement yet forgettable like the confetti that drops to the floor after weddings.
I am midnight in Paris and late night strolls on 57th and 6th in New York.

I am a result of the birth of a post term delivery caught unduly unprotected by the amniotic fluids of mother.
I am layers of skin shedding in green and yellow slime because mum had me at the 11th month with a fontanelle that retained ground rice which she ate when she went into labour. A fontanelle that never left and each time I braid my hair by someone new, they tell me of the dent as if it was something new I only just discovered.
I am June created on the first day of summer like Marilyn but could have been April beautifully bore in Spring like April in the TV show, ‘Mistresses’.

I am the heart heaved at a belief swooned towards a soul immortal. I am one who never wants to stop making memories with you, my ‘buh’.
I am ménage a’ moi and I am the Pas de deux as long as I am joie de vivre, then la vie est belle.
I am altered by indie and foreign films that tell elegantly of French girls admirably in love like that of ‘Jeune and Jolie’ and ‘Blue is the warmest colour’.

I am the smell of my ‘babuska’s’ saliva plastered all over my palms as she wipes them clean with her wrapper cloth sealing them in prayers for good destiny and good health.
I am the crux of the patron of St Andrews representing Bajan maidens, Danish singers, Scottish spinsters, Argentine migrants, shell shocked survivors, women wanting to be mothers, gouts, jaws and sore throats.

I am a spanner in the works aggrieved by familiarity and **** taking. I am all there is, transported in my ******, prayer and thoroughness, clear and bright like a snowy Christmas sunny morning.


I am June
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2022
i've recently become a big fan of the Dune movie
from 1984... two year before my birth,
i won't go into the details...
but one detail really grew on me...
the idea of making a word a weapon: somehow
telekinetically charged to release a missile /
a laser shot: whatever...
where have i heard this "line" before... hmm...
oh... right... Revelation 13...
although... the beast didn't blaspheme against
the Hebrew deity: he would most likely
make foul oaths: *******, mate, e.g.,
i swear by the powers invested in me that
i will call the name the name: ha-shem...
but i will not utter the name

   Y       H
       Æ
   W     H

thinking cap on (well... a hat i found, female,
with a pon-pon, that's my 'czapka niewitka')
the Qabbalists might refer to the above
schematic as a magic sq.
a sudoku puzzle might be considered
a "magic sq."

Æ? how did we begin, as sexless creatures...
self-reproducing,
   of the Adam and the Eva of the union...
that's how i see it... but i will not utter the name...
even if i uttered it, i wouldn't utter it like
Hindus of the Raj insert surd H's into their
words... dhal... e.g. you don't hark
you don't trill the R... you language is a *******
babble...

like the French like the English:
the people who have lost the clarity of phonetic
distinction, they were already sleeping together
given tongues concerned...
i'm the ******* barbarian who can speak...

ha... that thing with orcs... that meme...
they're supposed to represent black people...
you sure? i always thought of the Orcs as somewhat
Slavic, if not Slavic then mingling with the Turks
and the Mongols... only now... just now...
have the Africans started migrating...
all those years prior, sitting on their ***** in
the sunshine of the equator...
but the Slavs: the Russian menace?
the knocking on the door of Europe by the Mongols
and the Ottoman Turks?!
Caucasian folk... most of the time i think that
Africans are docile creatures...
esp. up North during the winter months...

you really have to get used to the cold:
to build up an acute sense of something...
in the warmth: no wonder the former great civilisations
are now ****-holes...
you can do so much more in the warmth...
check your ******* privilege...
up north, when winter comes...
good luck with staging intellectual discussions...
good luck painting, writing...
sure... the desert can also **** you...
but there's a slight difference between
being cold and being hot...
ask the insects... where the **** are they?
oh... hibernating, returning to their embryotic strategy:
waiting it out...

right... Orcs depict black people... huh?!
ah ha ha ha ha!
deluded western liberals...
  i don't even know what that word means...
even if i prefix it with: classically liberal...
what the ****'s that?!
i don't literally know, i always thought myself
as liberty first: liberty thirst...
i don't even know...

those lines from Revelation 13 though and Dune...
the weapons they used... they used words
channeled psychically into a weapon and: whoosh!
a blast!

Revelation 13: 5 through to 7

5
the beast was given a mouth to utter proud words
and blasphemies and to exercise his
authority for forty-two months.
6
he opened his mouth to blaspheme god,
and to slander his name and his dwelling
place and those who live in heaven.
7
he was given power to make war against
the saints and to conquer them.
and he was given authority over every tribe,
people, language and nation.

does anyone even know how many people of
this world currently reside in London?
my last estimate read at counting over 200+ tongues...

i just told you that i am celebrating the name
of the god of Abraham - i will not utter it...
i'll say ***** little ****-wit ******* but
i will not utter that name,
or for that matter all the names bound to the tree
of life...

it seems like fair reparations for the Hebrews being
expelled from Europe in the manner they were
expelled... someone (like me) comes along
and has the nerve, the senses the intellect
to appreciate the Hebrew teachings...
oh look... it phonetically coincides with "something":
this "something" being akin to the name of
the Hebrew deity...

because what have the replacement "Jews" brought?
funny... Malta is an ultra-catholic nation...
island... yet their language is a bit ****** up...
they call gott: allah... true... check it out...

i mean: since the 19th century! there has been an identity
crisis, if not beginning with Nietzsche,
then unto not...
i could possibly pull of looking like
the depiction by Luca Signorelli...
if i grew my hair long once more... eh...
long hair... too much hassle... plus donning a beard
and having long hair is not befitting a man these days...
long hair + a beard = no, no... no no... a bigger NO-NO...

because there's a horde of people who "think"...
whatever it is that they "think"...
beside the cosmopolitan messiah's preaching...
expulsion of the Hebrews from their land,
the exodus up north summated by a genocide...
it's not even like the Hebrew constructed the barracks
and the chimneys of the crematoriums,
or the ghostly gas chambers...
so... where are the supposed pyramids of the north?!
nowhere to be found...

good enough that while i write this i have auditory
hallucinations: that i speak two tongues...
one tongue silences the other tongue....
i hear LOSER... that word gets lost, somewhere:
"somewhere" in my labyrinth...
i'm yet to find a psychiatrist that might
talk to a bilingual schizophrenic: supposed "schizophrenic":
the entire world is more mad than me...
i'm pretty tame by comparison:
i'm about to make some pork schnitzels, poach young
tatties and make a miseria (a cucumber salad)...
some asparagus on the side if anyone might be gagging...

that the people kept crying wolf...
wolf and wolf did come...

oh Gemma, Gemma, Gemma... can i call you mother Gomorrah?
i'm not even thinking about ******* her...
i am thinking about ******* her, but...
like the ancient Roman tradition of surrogate fatherhood...
i'm actually thinking about her 11 year old son...
that's how things we done in the past...

because how is passing on my genes
important when... those same genes get halved
in their immediacy, a half becomes a quarter,
a quarter becomes an eighth... an eighth a sixteenth:
so and so ad nauseam...
but passing on an idea...        mein gott!
it's like gambling with your own body's
disqualifications to reproduce properly...
to breed Spartans... perhaps not even so much
as to breed... pickling-intellects of Athens...
something... in-between...

              imagine that, working on a little Frankenstein:
sure... not my own... all the better...
the woman is always a side-"thing"...
i'm curious about the child...
maybe that's what makes single mothers so attractive...
there's a chance i can mould a child
in my own image...
you know, dear reader, where this is going:
and god made man in his own image...

that's what making me so butterfly-riddled in
the stomach... the fact that she's 39 and still attractive
is one thing... i took note when she took note
that at Oxford two younglings... 18? petite blondes
took interest in me... she had to double down...
well... that's certainly bragging:
i'm bragging that i'm observant...
sure... you can have the Lamborghini and the yacht...
i'm pretty content with my lungs,
my eyes, my arms and my legs...

i nawet krucjaty dotarły do mojej ziemi!
a więc sam czas dotarł do mnie: aby mnie obudzić...

people have taken the matter oh too lightly...
Hey-Zeus knows... if i might just tease him a little....
he might just come round a second time...
the wandering stars are proof...
i believe this might be translated as:
searching for a host...

                   i'm currently working with a... wow...
a Latvian... better learn some Latvian...

SVEIKI DRAUGS (hello friend)...
    KAA IR JUUSU DIENA (DZIEŃ)
aha... dzusu or yusu?!

sorted... it's unavoidable to merely ask about
so many coincides coming together,
the great fire of London come 1666...
come on... if anything is to be more blatantly obvious...
it's this, it's this: now... diese: jetzt!

i mean: i could be considered an egoist,
a solipsist... but then again: i share my head
with a quadratic, two tongues and hallucinations
(auditory) in two tongues, towing shrapnel of
Latin and Hebrew... mostly presuppositions
and conjunctions of the latter two tongues...
i once owned a cat, kid you not,
that between meows and other onomatopoeias
spoke to me the word: JABEŁ:
in english the translation would read
as y'ah'b'eh'w... the "stand-alone" W doesn't
have to be a "double-u": it can be a dive into
a simple word like W'hen... or W'heather...
you just don't say the word, just stress the first sound
about to be made...

too many coincides have come together to be called
coincidences...
oh Gemma... why am i thinking about Frankie?
i see them at football matches,
Leeds fans... some drunken dad going mental
over a football match... the young boy he has with him
sort of feels embarrassed...
i yawn... because: it's a football match...
i'll enjoy the game... but: support a team?
you'll sooner find me dead than in a football jearsey...

because: like i ******* care...
i care that i'm not reading Locke and instead decided
to take up the German Idealism route of
sorting boxes from rocks... mountains from seas...
that's me!

Orcs are a depiction of black people... ha ha...
what was the last place that Africans invaded?!
Rwanda was close... having invaded themselves...
that's how the Polish-Lithuanian commonwealth
was dismantled... the elites of said: entity
became sado-masochists and wanted to hurt themselves...
it's always the same:
and their own do it unto their own because...
they're just "out of it"...
some people just want to see the world burn
around them...
                                 they are psychopaths, sociopaths...
whatever you want to diagnose them with:
basically cowards... cucks...

they experienced too much of life to know what
merely existing implies:
deriving pleasure from merely thinking is a good start...
but, no...
that's not on the table...
like yesterday... a trip up to Oxford became revelatory...
i had a quasi-Ramadam teaser...
i didn't eat anything from sunrise to sunset...
sure, i had a coffee and a cigarette... but no food...
after sunset i tried to turkey-feed myself
some vegetarian wraps...
can you imagine how painful it was to ingest anything?

to hell with a ritualistic month...
i'll do a Ramadam on the sly, impromptu...
i figured... well at least being hungry allows me
to focus on other things...
being filled, being nourished might leave me sloppy
when observing people for potential danger;
so i do that.

— The End —