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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"
Carolina P Jul 2015
SSSSSSSS!!
My heart was a firecracker
CRACKLE!!!
And you had lit my fuse
ZWINNGG!!!
Foolishly, I stepped too close to the sparks
KABOOM!!!
And then I was blown apart by your flame
Israel Baker Aug 2015
WHAT      iiiiiiiiiiii         sssssss    
                          i               s
                          i                sssssss
                          i                          s
                     iiiiiiiiiii        ssssssss  
                                          
BEAUTY?


I don't vent,
I beg the truth!

Seriously!
Beauty amazes me!

There are women that just
utterly impress me!

"I   WISH    I   COULD   DRAW"

Isay, as if art is simply historical record.

I "see" her, but i don't see her.

There is a faint glowing light in the dark pious,
the folk hymn in the rain and the
cosmopolitan freak-show.

Reminder:
She is the candle's cathedral
And she is the artificially purple
love-all, be-all.

Everyday, I wish upon every star, as to give me the imagination and courage to write about beauty. All I can say is, I  DON'T  KNOW. I really REALLY wanted to, but now i'm not so sure. I wish i knew that i wanted to know, but i don't, and i never will.

Such as is this sense sacred, and i wouldn't DARE describe it...

Ye who are quick to the mouth;
Fall into desperation,
For silence is the key to our revolutions.

Science is dead.
SSS
SSSS
SSSSSSSS
SSSSS
S
S
S
SS
S

SSSSSSS

S

S

SS
SSSSSSSSSS
S
S
­S
SS
S
S
SS
S
S
SS
S
S
SS
S
SSS
S
S
S
S
S
S
SSSSS
SS
S

S
S
SS



S
S
S
SSS
SS
SS
S
S
S

S
S
S
S
SS
S
SSSSSS
S
S
SS
S
S
SS
SSS

S­S
S
S
S
S
S
SSS

S
S
S
S
S
S
SS
S

SSS
SS
S
S
SS

SS


S
S
S
S
S
­S

SS
S
S
S
S
S
Ken Pepiton Jul 2022
Grow win groan… mark off/28jul2022, upgrades check…
I  said I would, if I believed I could, gain, that actual
ever interest turning every fifty years, on unpaid
Jubilees among the feeble minded,
all of the people, some of the time.
- Interesting times, since ever I was aware
- compounding mistakes as hates, oy vey
- Travail, travel, wanderer drawn away
- Covid positive
by an un-listed wind,
an anomoly
on a nano
scale
- not that either, I lost count, yes
weight as value - {always} a war making ideas heavy,
salt thirsting from inside the wall, the system
makes the body drink so I may think, all is well
with my soul.
Weight-wise, I am alive,
worth then is measured
in might as might may prove choice of - el, yes, well
el, we all nod, we find the sound early to disting-wish

so. way say it, we are right our way, we drink
from our own wells, tanks we make, when we may.
We save on the surface the sheen, squinting eye tech
see in snow pieces of eight,

right
-- self assembling nano tech with a
built
in
programing language. But, I add, in my mind
but, on or off- but on, in breath
the living things are
running programs
built. Built in ifery ever, if the system forms,
the system must be activated or nothing occurs
to you to
bring
life
--- I'm not clear, is right conscience or conscious, with use
of science sense signals set
to know
when
intentional design is a tribe ID-word.
- we designed this thing we are in, or on, or about/
- maybe
(rules against saying intelligent design rule the teacher,
not the peacemaker, being minded to know all the magi-tech,
and more, when it comes to rules
in love and war, life,
per se, ain't fair.
Pay the piper and the mind that tuned the whistle
in my denture
to this peculiar signal)

morought-othephic resonance vector infection- Þ
check
genome editing crisper- thorny issue
check
Þ
humanizing pigs, honest.
craig ventor lifemaker?
He is known
for leading the first draft sequence
of the human genome
- using a mind formed after the bomb.
- there is a mark in time, for each first time.

tools, yeast synthesis, is this a war?
Physical war being planned
against our eukariotic soul mother, brother

is this
from Wonderbread,
an antibiotic problem or mere remaining wrong ideas?
Is it like…
cancer - or Chaucer in the shade, as the lackeys towed that
barque, 'n'**'st that bale, bo andoncha know
nobody steals a $400 bale o' good Montana hay for no reason…
there was a needle in that role,
a piercing maddening cross-referrent occurrence implicated
as interference pre'ferencing prefer not all you wish,
pre-referencing the author's op-own imagined experience…
meaninglessness is hard to market.
- I already read the writing on the wall metaphor
- I know the names I'll find, I just
- can't remember those two.

---checksums all the way down if/then/else
find a way to live.
Identify the man you were, read him in.
When he's his old, he'll seal the exploit.
Cancer decides, for itself,
that's all I can make from the confusion here,

there must be some kinda way outa here

You recall, said the Joker, to The Thief
meaningful work.
Guiding to death.
Shall I solve your meaningless ness, or my own?
Or might I

find the meaning built in,
that black box with the built in
programing language that
Singularity University guy said is so important,
the built in
programing language that
is so important,
the built in
programing language that
is so important,
the built in
programing language that


… interest, drew me, what drew you?
compounding
Life. Me, too.
Divine interest in life, especially the mortal aspect,
as pertains to life and godliness and all,
that came with this acceptance
of dominion, within the bubble I am pre-pressured
with somewhere
- so excited- jumpy-ohshit-spot
- runs
between plumb and puredy **** sure.

Having entered again the as-if realm, that m on the end of real

means money maybe maybe not knot ex-acted
see
a door? a narrow way few see? mmmm
Follow or flee, ennui, as for me,
I believe I've heard treasure is truth.

I dare be, yond all I ever knew, to make answer-able
prayers. I be for no other reason my reasonability
allows, but to trouble the water and watch it settle
- silver screen in the thymus meme-ory device
Sno-globe meditation technique, practiced in secret since…
who knows, but crystal ***** did do something.
People can look at sno-globes for ever,
and never grow weary of the novelty.

For some, simple is good, good is simple.
God is light.
Where light is…not
nothing is.
Evil thing in my mind, you have been certified nullified.

Wind war? I inherited the wind.
I know why the broad Sargasso sea is so still, willo'mywinds
whisper
Peacemakers come from homes troubled in the making.
The fecting up of the Peacemaker, protrudes
effective peacemaking is more
preclusive
unsettling,
Dear Rhea rumbling at more
pressure boiling for her to loose some
air.
Cultures sharing antibodies for old evils.
Once the evils men imagine are exposed,
refreshen the air. Take another hit,
message accepted,
we can handle those
acting-as-if the losers won,

but none need lose, for life, per se,
in the realm of mega-we,
life is seen
most precious by all men.

Some men may dare to despise their own flesh,
(despise means not look at, spek means look at, in many tongues)

however,
never shall life despise some men and look kindlish at others.
Salt, be salt, water, water, you, you
-insert Markov blankness
life has proven itself in you. Be or not is not the quest.
Go, be more alivening, is the quest.
Be a little leaven, a viral bit of peace,
just past understanding,
well within reach.

Be alive, and where you live, make peace so life may
may -be empowered to- make peace so life may
dub thee Troen Ridder
truth-be-told, teller
maker-of- peace so life may
increase abundantly good forever
for no better reason

than if you had your own way we would be friends.

Search for a video of sanctioned war in germ terms
eleven days from minimum

survivable dose MSD

to total ******* and

destruction of both sides, unless
the bubble of all they have learned can be

pressurized, from the insides,…
Thanks, yawn. stretch, sneeze
Pop.

I heard about Alamogordo. Thanks for that, too.

rightnow. what does fear of not knowing a known

feel like, suffering wise, scale of 1 to 10?

How about (odd phrase, eh) we suffer, instead,
the fear of the un
known

Nova Sanctorem sorta stuff. Book learned
spells mispoken by orphans

sifting through the ashes of all that went before,
enchanting, if one child finds a drum,

safe from the fire in the secret place,
child strikes the drum one time

wait
echo

Did your home place echo?
During day, or during night?

In my desert, it is both.
- go to where stories lie at rest.
With this drum and my echos,
we may finish your migration

Walk a mile with me, let me help you
with your bag,
your thing, trip, scene

Remember then?
Enchanting times with different echoes

Ancient, old as dirt, snake clan secret
extreme mental challenge trials.

Now. What's the missing or broken
ness you all are murmuring

how about? May I?

May I understand comprehension of perceptions
in the interest of interesting times,

which, when I was told that

"may you live in interesting times", is
alleged, an Imperial curse,
which, first,
by then, I had all ready taken if-that for
granted as good will toward me.

I considered it diligently
I sought the sweet influence of Pleiades,

I did. Lucky Luciano and the Polish word Lekka

Luck is a factor if luck is originally
onto logical epi stem strateg-ic
clear light, magi-tech-wise.

There is evidence. The rocks bear my significance
-in 2022
If I can, try sign if I can, and no sir not can sir
but breathe sir
censor, sweet sense or else

the most benign of the self-righting models
to embody
the six spins in one bubble.

could stumble and fall and have no means to right,
get the signal, right itself, per se,
if wrong fail of function better next time…ping
we wer- yea, verily ver-ifity confirmed
it-ify-ing evil, first
really.
Life in mere terms,
words live here, we know
Intentional wrong precedes right
in my experience of living while waiting for you.
but once you have a grip on evil
as a thing in your own realm,
under your dominion;

then, don't miss a wink.
sleep tight, don't dis-integrate and wake up crazy.

When Ezekiel saw the model, if he saw the model,
he'd, he 'ould have been well and truly
amazed, aclaimin', in awe, I saw

"wheels within wheels within wheels bubblin'
bib-lin' bubblin' in my soul"

banjo and fiddle, painful for an orphan
yearnin' to learn ttdrr drum that drum

My drum. The drum I found in the secret place
I knew was there, after the fire.

-----
Ah, Christmas, the message with its own,
built in medium to grow in with no competition.

The least suspected are all infected.
That Usual Suspects, all those sick social memes, as if

the war of numbers was a game for cannon founders

Krupp and whom, Red Shield in the ghetto?
I don't think that makes
all the sense in the world.
who was Warburg…{question or mark of timing}

-- we had things between scenes, glyphs, right
let's have a gliph,if we edit- I am this-Þ, as an after thought
Þ is the th sound among certain ancient tongues,
deafness separation and blind singers grown wealth in wine.

The act has formed another wedom,
and we have joined them on fi, okeh, fi-semper
in fiduciary, and rests, in truth compressed
Trust. On the dime
flip. Truth rests.
On this page again, a different me,
indeed, as different time, I'm
certain, fluidity of space, currents

swirling up three dimensions, six ways
measured from now at the center, once,

now at the edge, stretching one point,
to a pivot,
turn around and wonder what we do,
we mortal watchers, consuming life to live…

questing questions ion-
state, condition, or action, quest
quaerere "seek, gain, ask"

From <https://www.etymonline.com/search?q=quest>

Can you think slowly? I can. Several volumes back,
we, discovered Jello-timespace, blinkable
and rubbable dry bubble eyes, murine
is accessible, state conditions or act

as if I were a maker of peace,
on the grandest scale,
would I fret living
for no reason
but one I made up, from bits of others,
made up from matters cogitated to troubled
state conditional actions
made up, fantasized, built to imagine going past,

a mountain of a man, big bad Yohan,
mean, mean, mean man,

I mean it, always.

6-19-2022 2200
- not so long ago, then
Father's day, lotsa laughs,

little error allowed, the fineness,
sorting racist fear from awareness,
the culture does produce to patterns,
common genetics, tend to produce
select models of all the options,
over and over and over again,
a loss
a complete misconception of my reason
able faith, applied, no lies, only big stories,
yes, I cannot remember what was real
and what was what I would have done,

then I remember the gun, I did tell that
guy with the gun
to stop. And he did.

Then the other guy, the one with the
shot gun, he has in my face,
and I am ready,

see, I say, to me today, I am ready

if I were you, you would think nothing
p-- I am too
tired and slightly drunk to care,

of course, the course is parseltongue tested,
listen, hiss, you know, the warning,
I own this space this time,
the serpent says to me,
I laugh and stomp it,
I made that snake,
it was not real.

You know how I feel,
daring, don't give a dam
gonna do another show,

rock and roll reality, believe me,
we have the Sisyphus's, happy
engine wound up and ready,

but Sisyphus quit.
Got to the top and said, that's it
I quit.
And time stopped in that sector.

Go look.
Nothing changes and Sisyphus
is happy as Hell to have nothing to do.

I want something cooler, reader five,
blackbandit-double-ought shot
pick a sigel jelly sidgil  sign damint spel chek
you know what I mean, magic it sigil -right
I guessed that.
My son in law cringes at my cultural crassness.
I think jews come in more recognizable patterns
than cultures that abandoned the marriage restrictions.

"At least --- did not marry a ------" Oy, right, mix race,
half-breed
race as a what, eh?
what we weigh is race, we do not know,
they said we know, but we don't so, no more, race
is a wrong idea,
not right.
The flavor, the leaven and spices and plagues of
cultures, idea - a we of one earth
- call Covid leaven,
- we all been co-leavened
- we all share simbionts,
- earth is our home and our calling is to be good.
- Spirit inspire expire ssssssss
that is a people, idea that shapes a people
cultures, symbiosis chimera are we, carriers
post all we all survived, we are carriers of all it took.


Quiet, the ride, holy silencio, yohan let it be son,
grow old and burn your pages/
slow skip staged events…

Okeh, from the beginning I am the auth-oth- or that
maker up, of my faith, author and glosser, shiner, finisher
on elements at work in melody and har,mmmmoney
echoes, eeeee
we agree, that is no reason to dare see it so,
we are all, by nature's god, double-minded,
doubt not is a trick of the trade,
ɤ thistledo-find a phoneme that fits kid
unify, un yonder run un if un if un if I die I knew
you know, knowing good and evil, was the plan,

nothing was a secret, once in a life time you may know.
Zywa Jul 2020
GIRL, DO STAND STILL FOR A WHILE, PLEASE

It's the wind, I'm rocking in the wind

HEAR! HEAR!

Have a look, my grains are blown by the wind

THERE'S NO NEED TO FANCY YOURSELF, PLEASE

I don't fancy anything!

YOU DO, YOU ARE BEING VERY TALL

Sometimes I'm rather tall indeed

HIGH WINDS BLOW ON HIGH HILLS, DID YOU FEEL IT?

It sang in my ears. Ssssssss…..

THAT'S BEAUTIFUL. PLEASE DO AGAIN

Ssssssss….. Help! The wind broke me!

GIRL I HEAR CRACKS IN THE WIND. IS THAT YOU?

Help!

GIRL, WHAT ARE YOU DOING, PLEASE?

The wind quakes me

PLEASE DO!
After: “Herenleed” (“Gentlemens distress”, 1971-1997, Cherry Duyns en Armando)

Collection "Untwisted"
I cannot hide my true self
For my true self is who I am
For who I am is my true self.

Why must I destroy myself?
But bleach my body
Destroying my skin
Killing of my true self.

And must I please myself
Tease myself
Satisfying myself
Until it comes down to
Being myself
Not fooling myself
Me.
Myself and I
Then to think
It's better for myself
No matter what.
Cheat myself
Beat myself
Lie to myself
But not be myself
Of whom I am
And whose I am---
It's a sad case
A sad case indeed
To not work on myself
For there to betterment of myself
And not poison myself
Until I die and shrink
Shallow up
Disappear
Gone
Swell up
Bust right open
Like a raisin.
****!
Pow!
Ssssssss!
But I got to be true to myself
For who I am
And all that I am going to be
And yet stay true to myself
For me and nobody
Else
Me
With beautiful self--
ME!
Myself
My true self
I love.
Brian McDonagh May 2018
If even the smallest hint of lust is a deadly sin,
Then I already have my foot in the grave.
There’s no turning back:
The notion of *** surrounds my reality
And caresses my mind,
Rules my dreams.

*** toys with my manly nature:
Foxy cheerleaders,
Gentlemen’s clubs,
Attractive college students,
Glitzy pop artists;
Lyrics of seductive songs about pleasing arousals.

When the word “***” rolls off the tongue,
I am left fidgety and weak.
The most interesting ****** account, I perceive,
Is Eve and the serpent,
Given a serpent isn’t necessarily human,
And Eve wasn’t portrayed as slithering.
*** and snake fit together because of this tale in Eden:
The serpent flirts with Eve, messing with her ****** response
To a certain seduction.
Ssssssss! Says the serpent.
[When people hold the “ess” in saying “***” as a snake,
My guard sags as if my body readies itself for ***.]
Imagine the serpent hissing at Eve,
Winding slowly about the trunk of the tree,
As though suffocating the knowledge in the forbidden tree.
Its eyes glued to Eve,
Her naked body giving in not to the serpent’s verbal abuse of ***,
But to making mouthy contact with the taboo, savory pome sensation.
The serpent may as well have also added, “Don’t worry…God won’t know about thisssss.”
I know most poets are used to topics as such, but please understand that I'm not trying and do not intend to do any harm whatsoever here.  Trust me when I say I do not write like this often; I extracted these stanzas from a larger poem I wrote after an aggravating Sunday this past week so I do apologize; however, I post it because I want to express my own struggling reality...I'm not a holy innocent or anything, and I think, especially with poetry's help, this is, for lack of a better description, a "safe" medium in getting the point of my imperfectness across (regardless of whether this as seen as imperfect, natural, "eh", I've read worse, etc.)  Truthfully, I am a bit embarrassed in posting this and it's kind of a gamble at least to me, but I'll take the risk.

— The End —