Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2016
.one of the great dissatisfactions of life: dreaming... which makes me suspect of the anglo-saxons and their subsequent branches of sub-ethicities... they dream... they have recurring dreams... lucid dreams... i find that slightly suspicious... i rarely dream and if i do dream, the dreams are so bogus or so uninteresting that they make no sense to: "interpret" them via any freud-cubism schematic - that a woman's sun hat implies: the depth of ****** and promiscuity, or some otherwise bogus stretching it mate, really stretching that analogy... but why do the anglo-saxons have such lucid dreams, even recurring dreams? are they descendants of joseph: der traumgehhilfe? last time i had a dream? oh... family invites me to say, three memebers of the family don't like me... **** the rest of the family with a knife, a gun and a baseball bat (somewhere in south east asia)... a few of the killed members run into the street to die... i somehow pick up a kalashnikov and shoot the murderous 3... then i jump into slender boat with a motor with 3 or 4 women... 'jesus'... and i escape the scene of retribution sailing to... cambodia! **** me... even sylvester stallone or jason statham or arnie wouldn't star in a movie as b-movie as this... but anglo-saxons seem to have the most vivid dreams... two good examples: h. p. lovecraft and william burroughs... is dreaming a form of escapism? if so, then evidently i'm quiet content with reality... like today: too much pop psychology, too much self-help guru mishmash, too much advice: not enough stories... video streaming a game being played... etc., so i retreat, even from modern music, into? here's a beginner's guide list to medieval music:

       1. qui habitat in adiutorio altissimi
       2. da pacem domine
       3. agni parthene
       4. dum pater familias
       5. chevalier, mult estes guariz
       6. virga iesse floruit
       7. walther von der vogelweide's
                 palästinalied
       8. codex buranus no. 179:
                     tempus est locundum
       9. non é gran causa
      10. herr holger
      11. herr mannelig
      12. die eisenfaust am lanzenschaft
      13. meie din liechter schin
      14. under der linden
      15. mayenzeit one neidt
      16. mönch von salzburg (das nachthorn)

   why would i have stopped at merely
Orff's reading of Carmina Burana -
                 sure... that's the entry point...
   but the radio only plays o fortuna till
the cows come home in a full-moon lit night...
yawn...
    if only: fortune plango vulnera,
      veris leta facies, omnia sol temperat,
     floret silva, or... or!
   a monk's love song for the queen of england -
were diu werlt alle min:
              were diu werlt alle min
              von dem mere unze an den Rin,
              des wolt ih mih darben
              daz diu chunegin von Engellant
               lege an minen armen.

but no... it's o fortuna or nothing from that album
on the radio...
    i get it, great song...
   but why is auld lang syne only sung once
a year, on new year's eve?!
              
as with women, so with music, one simply tires of
contemporary examples: not exactly the music
but the lyrics behind the music...
                        music will never change to appease
the brute and the beast... but modern lyricism
is just agitating... it exhaust with its choice
of subject matters...
                                and by the looks of it...
    i spend too much time with music to find myself
in needing the comfort of a woman's voice,
a cuddle or relationship or whatever you want
to call it from now on...
           i am wedded to three women that will
never materialize: Euterpe, Sophia and Amber...
and all the better...
                                i could never wallow in what's
currently being wallowed in...
by some who have these recurrent dreams
and are unable to stop them from recurring...
hence my suspicion with the anglo-saxon traits
of vivid dreaming: this cruch of relying on dreams...
of so easily being ***** by celesto-cerebral powers
that impregnate their sleeping heads with
these realities that only exist in the mind and
a sleeping mind at that!


(nb. not proof read, apologies in advance for any mistakes, upon rereading will correct if any appear - or i'll just keep them...)

look at these two slogans: let's make America great (again)!
complimenting the English variation
let's get our country back! ring any bells? i guess you must
have heard one or the other as an English speaker -
it's hardly surprising - the English Prime Minister singing
a little toodeloo then uttering the word right upon
reentering number 10 - shambles ahoy! every rat and
mutineer bailed - we're in free-fall, Trotsky had it coming,
this guy hasn't - hardliner but a bubble-gum tongue -
it stretches like a joke my English teacher said:
how was copper wire invented? hmm? two Scots
tugging and pulling in opposite directions a two pence coin -
for all their worth, they joked the blond quiff of
both Boris and President Donald Yeltsin - where one
gets drunk on egoism, the other just gets drunk -
even though they don't like him in Scotland, they sure as
hell bought the slogan like a Big Mac - the problem is
there's a zenith, and then a necessary decline -
you can reach the zenith of breaking the 100m sprint,
but then a stock-market dip (necessary) -
much of Britain's exit from the European Union was due
to the campaign trail of the Doodle T - the best politician
i assume is the one that enjoys the most prodding jokes,
which also means the majority of votes,
jokes and votes walk hand-in-hand - people don't want
leaders, they want caricatures - after all, the little existences
have to matter with a joke in the Oval office.
i can't imagine the unholy alliance of feminists running
the place in the west - Theresa May in England,
Hilary Clinton in America, Angela Merkel in Germany,
Ms. Le Pen in France, the Polish prime minister
Beata Szydło - it has to look like a 2nd Cold War scenario,
a break from World Wars... Putin and pukka Tyson Trump
on the other side, macho v. macho - man talk and
the ultimate bromance. i know that Nietzsche referenced
genius too much, assuredly i hear that a lot too around
here with child geniuses storming around for silverware -
children geniuses and not original? so technically you're
talking about data storage in porridge - trained monkeys,
right? those children will be scarred for life as if they
saw their parents ******* - what sort of genius is a genius
if he doesn't work from blank but is there are a memory
gimmick to boost hopes of curing dementia?
philosophy doesn't do geniuses, it does things like Spinoza,
solitary wanderers, loners - outsiders and mesmerisers,
there's no genius in philosophy - there's only solitude -
granted that an open-minded psychiatrist is a modern subplot
in not reading philosophy - where is the ultimate source
of compassionate solely theory based (anti) psychiatry?
in reading philosophy books rather than exercising authority /
abusing it - R. D. Laing is a perfect example -
who wrote after reading philosophy books - i mean read them,
in the English speaking world i recommend reading
the works of the anti-psychiatric movement of the 1960s,
which was much bigger than the Beat Movement - obviously
not as dazzling, but with poetry you're imitating Philippe Petit
(film, the walk) - i watched it and my legs experienced
needles, and a firm assertion of gravity and the location
of the floor - films like that are worse than horror -
you share the heart of the original, but given it's Plato's cave
we're talking about representing the events, you realise
that no matter how much you want your shadow to be
Philippe Petit, you hear from the outside world, your legs
are firmly on the ground - basically: **** that - men are not
born equal, they have to live by principle to be at least moderating
their excellence into a respectable cohesion (democracy) -
quiet simply juggling their strengths with their weaknesses -
man is not born equal, he was to strive for equal measure -
when subduing their strengths and when exfoliating them -
no man is born equal, as no man is an island - the two synchronise.
(i'm deliberately masking what's coming)...
but there is genius in philosophy - but only in one area of
interest - religion... we know that popular beliefs are
grounded in plagiarism - the Trojans became the Romans
via the accounts of Virgil, and we know the Trojans in
becoming Romans plagiarised the Greek polytheism -
Zeus became Jupiter, Poseidon became Neptune,
Cronos became Saturn, Hera became Juno, Aphrodite
became Venus... etc., it was done to mimic the Greek heart
from the defeat at Troy, to invoke a heart that overcame -
every pauper and every king would identify with
this pluralism - but a second plagiarism had to come -
it was prophetically echoed from approximately 2000 years -
the Greeks later plagiarised the Hebrew concept -
the monotheistic concept, yet because their thinking
was so advanced (or so they thought) they dismissed the
sects of the Pharisees, the Sadducees, the Essenes and
the Zealots... their hero was their antagonist - and nothing
of their learning was actually work their concerns since
they boasted of their Aristotle and their Plato and their
Socrates - the peddle-stool effect appeared -
but what if a Latin man (well, these letters are Roman) were
to say - never mind the son, how about the father?
in Christianity the father is rather anonymous in his
omnipresence etc. - but let's assume on the biological tenet
that we are referring to the old testament god -
would we want to plagiarise the Greek plagiarism of
Hebrew? i already mentioned the four prime canons as
imitations of the tetragrammaton - of course they're
intended to not be identical accounts, but there must be
two that are mirror images - i.e. referring to h      &      h
of the tetragrammaton - if there are no two mirror images
then we are bothered - i can see why the Greek mind thought
that Y refers to a convergence, a mother, a father, a child
and the entry point to the gospel: a genealogy -
Y being representative of a convergence - past and present,
following through - this is all about first impressions,
from what i can remember and regurgitate back -
in Catholic school we were taught by majority the gospel
of St. Mark - the others were discredited -
i can't tell you if there are two identical gospels (or at least
with very little variation between them) - what comes after
them is what comes after all essences of religion,
bureaucracy - imams and priests, yoga teachers and
whatever it is that comes with religion for the common man,
but in the new testament this is the essence, a shady
reinterpretation of the tetragrammaton - but a Latin man
who didn't bother to attribute symbols with nouns,
but made his alphabet musically orientated for the
castrato and the choirs to come - a (alpha) b (beta)...
o (omicron / omega) it became obvious that the four letters
arranged as so with missing Adam and missing Eve
would provide more than just four interpretations of
the same event / person - for when a Greek has to cut off
-lpha from a to attach it to another letter to create meta,
the Latin man has only to cut off less, perhaps dentistry's
ah, or otherwise cut off -ee from b... the world is full
of such possibilities, and this is the only area where
genius can be applied to philosophy - the genius of
philosophy is within religion, and nowhere else -
of course mind that i don't identify myself as one -
i treat genius as an angel or a demon, that fairy-tale
race of creatures that whisper into your ear - markedly
geniuses are more powerful in demanding an individual
rather than clones of the individual, e.g. Mohammad
and Muslims, Jesus and Christians... which is why i suppose
the genius of Moses also allowed others to write on sacred
paper, but of course excluding Malachi for falling into
heresy with a polytheistic concept of reincarnation, not
oddly enough Malachi's was the last book before the two
major strands of his heresy emerged like Behemoths.
blekk, this ******* ragoon man
crab paste yuck
my stomach is festering in wounds of American Chinese
they put poison in my foods and I indulge and this is the result
final laid down rest
it feels
as
if
blekkk
the white rice is nice and the lo mein, don't even get me started
                                               i Love it
noodles and rice covered in grease
                                                          ­                                        spied on from a box of spare ribs
they saturate in Sat Fat, check the label                781 SAT FATS PER SERVING  

Looper was good, and I was stuffed through all of it
grease traps, formed from my age of 5, filled to their brim this evening
starting a day with number 10 from Macdoe's: poor choice
smoke some grass and write a bit
that settles the swoosh of pirates fighting in my intestines
i give bloating a 75% definitive yes
                              25% maybe
          
          reality is
          I poisoned myself

don't do take out
don't eat what is not from its own country                                and made the same way
you know those ******* who make it are not eating the same **** thing
point is, I feel like Wesley Snipes and Sylvester Stallone are DEMOLISHing within.
Brujo Alligatore Mar 2016
Sure we have fun
One time though
I wished we watched more movies
And the wishmaster would ruin it
As usual
And we'd end up roommates
In a hospice ward
Watching a Sylvester Stallone marathon
Mike Hulstrom Sep 2017
See three dimensions, the vision is blending, not to mention
Never prepared for funerals he pretends he’s attending

Scatter thought; chatterbox, planning mad hatter plots
Like neighborhood ballers posting up on the block,
Flood the hot-spot and set up a rock shop,
Got gems and minerals with more in stock
The lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock, can’t be stopped
Because three more always grow where the last head chopped

In his lair, tearing through the rarest of known tomes
Bloodied, preparing, bearing home-grown pheromones
While atoned-postponed rambo reloads ranged ammo
This ****** Stallone, left alone, changes the channel
He’s amorphous on his own
His thesaurus is his zone
Choruses to juxtapose
It’s just gorgeous when he glows
Like a broke back mat smacking crack to the dome
The knick-knack paddy-wack gives this dog a bone

One of zero ***** given.
Proposition; my vision
Requisition:
Mass transmission
Free the minds imprisoned.
Send them off christened,
Eyes bright, glistened
Blood thickened, muscles;
tightly stiffened
Sick with bliss, concisely conditioned
Well provisioned, and on a mission
Kids’ just wishin’
Fishin’ for dishin’s
Switchin’ positions like politicians

With destination anticipation
An explanations is all they’re craving
Get what’s deserved for misbehaving
Even adulated need saving
Jolly Rodger’s what’s left waving
Until the tomb needs engraving
El Dorado:
Yellow brick road, gold pavement

Just let your will blend from birth to urn
Cause I have to spend some worth to earn
Just like the
Sun comes round the bend come burst and burn
Me and the Earth, we’re both cursed to turn

Mind in a mutter, from the throat-cutter utter
Off cluttered, from sputtering up soft butter

Projectile vomitin’
Simple sad homonyms
Bent ones that haunted him
**** ones that taunted him

Crash, fell bumping a paladin’s ballad
Yelling from the cell, a hell that’s padded
Plain scabbard belt fastened
Brain splattered, well contrasted
Gotta face it, it’s just a facet
Haphazard basic *******

Dazed, he laid lazy in a field of daisies, crazy
still failing life in spite of praises, does not phase me

Never fully try, never fully fail, never succeed
He smokes **** ‘til his failure’s guaranteed

Somebody makes the calls; Atlas shrugged ‘neath it all
Pedestal built too tall; perhaps the world will fall

Out in the desert Kashmir looms like a mirage
Or am I breathing exhaust fumes in the garage

What good is my happiness, my reason, justice, or pity?
I don’t know why you’d ask me this, but I guess it’s all ******

Fight my battles rolling downhill,
Sit back while my verbs and nouns spill
Words not meant to astound, but still
Chill

I’m palm stroking broke minds
With ****** soaked rhymes

I can occur just like a canna crop trafficker
I infer with calipers; as amateurs get massacred
Like melon to Gallagher
A gallon of palaver
What else can you do but take the beat and ravage her

Precision thumbs commissioned this slurred-dumb, late ***
With blood, sweat and tears smeared on the surgeon's apron

Brazen, boring, shameless; facetious
What a ****** thesis to teach us, I mean, Jesus

Witness the riots;
Sit back in silence,
Eyeless; In a crisis
Righteous, feeling timeless

I’m a weak witted weapon without suppressants
At my peak, spit blessings that best luminescence
Testing, expressing questions;
a primordial presence
Learning lessons of the essence,
Leaning in ******* obsessions
Now back to the digressions,

Enchant the mic and pass her
a wish to go follow gets a focal fracture
By the aficionado postal slasher
My vocals compact like a dope oil extractor
Spoke, spat, and risen from the earth like the rapture
Lyrics locked in; like ‘final answer’
Do a vinyl transfer
Sample and enhance her

Burn sweetest flowers hourly
The meanest greenest sour D
Take a bouquet the day he take a dowry

Fine divine entwined nugs
Unwind with the kind bud
And when it comes to this composition;
Just try it; succumb
Peel open a dub, recline, combine lovely drugs and paper.
loses loose shrubs, keeps his grip: shrugs and taper
Lick with the spit on the tip of the tongue, and savor
Chip off the old lungs, word to pops, mums and neighbors
Long lasting, juicy like a fruity gum flavor
Meet your maker, brute ****! Astute *** behavior

Faulty wiring in our brains
Exalt me as I complain
Are we just Abel's and Kane's, soon to be slain?
Perhaps maybe just a tune to be played?
Who keeps the balance of pleasures between pains
Who breaks silence for treasures? Who’s blood stains?
Dang

As I think it through, inhale and breathe fumes
I fail to read moods, but still I’ll seek tunes
As the green room’s groove looms
And the smoke plumes perfume
He unleashes leeches,
the deed is; eat his wounds
Mateuš Conrad May 2022
502 bad gateway:

title: left-over meat
body:
left-over: d'ah beat!
boom! Chloe wadies in
the hizz dep.
shout the harem chant
out loud!


in the full stare of the sun i sometimes feel like
the music dictates to me:
somewhere between Julian Winding's neon
demon and anything by Boy Harsher:
country girl e.p. / the song pain...

for the first time in my life my grandmother didn't
call me up to wish me a happy birthday...
i was always of the impression: cringe...
i don't like to be awarded anything: esp. when
it's a given: it's not ******* accomplishment...

i can remember having about 3 birthday parties
in my life...
one where i screamed: i'm afraid i'm afraid
for having to pop off the cork of a make-shift
non-alcoholic champagne bottle:
which i later spilled onto the glass table
and started slurping it like a dog...
like: a dog...
whereby i heard the prompt:
Matthew! we don't drink from the table!

what was the surname of those two boys?
Zawacki... no no... Ostarek... that's ******* *******...
i just made that surname up...
Ostatek! yeah... those boys...
i bashed one of them months later and
ripped off this crucifix: geld necklace...

one other party in a bowling alley...
whatever...

my 21st? oh sure... sure... that was "great" too!
i had to manage the crowd
and also deal with a jealous girlfriend
tightly knit in her spider-web of jealousy
smoking marijuana in my bed...
wanting everyone to leave:
because she couldn't stand me getting any
sort of attention...
then my high-school friend whom i invited
to stay over with three other high-school friends...
drinking too much...
vomiting outside the toilet on the carpet:
me... having to clean it up...

Jesus could have washed feet!
**** Jesus! i was cleaning up puke!
   to hell with that sociopath!
            hell: i'll grow my hair long if i have to
be missing a towel... i'll wash feet from dust...
you want to take care of
a, a Roman **** feast of bulimia?!

and why is it, that i don't celebrate my birthday?
a bit pointless...
now that my grandmother stopped giving a ****:
my maternal grandmother...
my paternal grandmother i don't even know
what she looks / looked liked...
she abandoned my father so she abandoned me...

woo boo hoo: who hurt you?!
   no one...
         that's why i go and visit prostitutes
to relax my heart...
like my maternal grandfather said to me once:
make sure to keep your heart small:
then you'll have people in the clench
of your fist...
              
              that's of course when...
my maternal grandmother phoned me two days
prior to my grandfather's death and told me:
oh... he's about to die...
2 years later... ah... the anaesthetic is finally
kicking in... for me!
   she's dead already...
3 ******* months prior i was sitting with him...
getting private dental treatment
because... England is a place where you
find: the non-existence of teeth!
people just slurp pre-digested proteins and
other assortments of shakey-shakey:
vegan "milk"-shakes...

             i managed to find... karl ove knausgaard's
alternative project after his magnum opus...
my struggle, i.e. Autumn...
  that part about eating the entire apple...
with the core... i sometimes do... whenever i feel
like eating an apple... rarely i stopped feeling
it was necessary to eat apples...

it's so much more simple when...
   you have issues with... your grandmother...
than... say... a past girlfriend...
so much... simpler...
               because the "misogyny" is not so...
harsh... so... obvious... sexually related...
   no no... it's... subtle... it's more on the level of:
distinction: i'm a man... and you're... a woman...
let's compare...
it's not like i want the stereotypical antagonism
of misogyny of: i want to **** this woman
but she doesn't want to **** me...

oh no...

oh look, who's here? Sylvester ******* Stallone...
i can be proud of my cat...
maybe it's just me...
   moo... he actually ******* moos and there's
the moon and i want a simple meow
but... after a certain hour when the foxes run
rampant i don't want to let him out:
but he wants to go to the toilet...
meows like Sylvester ******* Stallone speaks...
i have to chase him into his cuvette
whereby he... d'uh... decides to leave me
a doughnut's worth of **** in those flakes
associated with cat-litter...

he actually needs me to watch him urinate...
so i can immediately clean it up and
he doesn't have to bother with the "hide the evidence"(!)
side project...

moments later... Sylvester ******* Stallone:
meows like moos like the final speech
in the boxing ring of Rocky... it's doing my head in...
i go back up... number 2... with a slight tease
of diarrhoea... now i have to clean up...
and wash the ****** up...

i look at him now: lying in my bed...
sort of happy-proud that he has an owner that takes
care of him...
if only i had a child... eh... i sometimes wish...
but as a Mary Shelley experiment...
oh no... not with a partner...
i'd like an experiment as a male: not a single mum...
that must be fun...
you can play around with language...
morph, mutate... it would be...
then again no: people have their own agency:
young people succumb to peer pressure..

- but it's different now...
   oh who hurt you? who? might ask some "future girlfriend":
ah ha ha...
my grandmother did...
she told me only two days prior of my grandfather
and best friend being dead...
but she knew he was deteriorating a month prior:
and i had all that spare time on my hands:
i could have cared for him!
fishing trips! climbing trees! horse riding trips!
foraging for mushrooms! sure...
he did drink! that's all she remembered...
he drank because of her!
trips to the metallurgy plant!

i've learned my lesson: money's on the table...
i can only be gentle with prostitutes...
or let's put it this way...
whatever violence was performed on prostitutes
in past centuries... esp.: notably in England in
the 19th? that's *******, gone!
that's done and over and... gone... ****!
gone...

i couldn't harm a *******...
whenever i visit: i don't visit her for lies...
if she wants to say some truths most women are afraid
to say: fair enough...
i'm there to ****...
like i go to a butcher's for a pound of cool, red, raw,
Tartar... beef!
like i go to a florist for a bouquet of tulips...
i'm not there for some ***** **** latex suit gimp
fetish ***!
   i'm not saying that's wrong:
but like i already said:

once you walk through the desert of ***, less, -ness
long enough: you stop being thirsty...
and it doesn't matter whether you ******* or don't...
i tried both avenues...
you are simply turned off...
or rather: prompted by cues from animals...
pigeons do it too often... on rooftops...
you need a female cat and groom her while
she raises her **** of an *** with her nail
wriggling toward your nose...

that's how i was woken from my slumber...

it felt so good not hearing and good wishes on
my birthday from my grandmother...
for once! finally! i'm freed from that superficial *******!
i didn't accomplish anything by being born!
so why the **** would i celebrate this day?!
sure... it's nice when it's covertly celebrate:
no chores around the house...
no cooking... some champagne... fair enough...
but... oi oi! gather round! friends! family!
what a load of crock-****!

- today i was curating my eucalyptus tree..
cutting excess branches...
not a bad beginning... i'll be keeping the CROWN
of the tree... let it grow higher! higher!
but i'll need to cut off the branches outgrowing
sideways...

while doing just that... i was prompted
by a memory at "work": the first and probably the last
time a **** tried to work around me:
instruct me... "tell me off":
became angry with me...
     all of this is of course in my head:
what's outside is usually cordial, formal...
she said: you're not supposed to be here!

i should have said: and you should stop being
so confused, pretending to be macho!
why be ******* with me while at the same time
wanting to **** me!
******* ****: macho ****** are a massive
turn off... turn off the lights
and i still would do doggy dodge-style...

i have an ego of an iron maiden in my head....
it's all nice, politeness on the outside...
in the shallows of a veneer...
dig a little bit deeper and i'm savage...
today i proved that to myself...

it would have been so much different if i were
that stereotypical male hurt by his ex-girlfriend...
sorry, girl... that spot is taken...

so while i was curating my eucalyptus i was also
rummaging in my garden...
this poor apple tree... infested with parasites...
it's in ******* plain sight!
a bit like seeing the parasite mistletoe!

people hide, when cancer attacks: but trees are
in plain sight...
i don't even know what attacked it...
fruits about to blush further up...
but further down... these *******... critters!
these... aphids... i don't even know...
                                        coccoidea?

i don't care... i didn't... dearest mother was supposed
to spray these ******* off...
no... can't wait... i know a better procedure...
i'll just cut off the infested branches off...
and i did... threw the cut-off branches into a bag...
sealed it: now! suffocate!

i hate to see a suffering tree...
i guess: more than seeing a suffering animal,
more than a suffering human being...
because... trees... are mute!

so Edward Secateurs came into play...
no... no need to wait for spraying these ******* off...
i'll just cut off the branches infested...
put them into a bag: suffocate them...
cut off their live supply...
       i will embrace a rat...
vermin: king of the hierarchy balance...

i still don't understand why it's almost, somehow:
oh so, "normal"...

i think i idealised women once upon a time,
that's why i allowed myself to love them...
within the confines of a prescribed narrative...
my heart's too small to love like
a teenage boy, ever again...
i idealised women once upon a time...
after all: once upon a time there was
a once upon a time that was spread infectiously
like a cognitive-pandemic...

if i were to replicate my fish-dinosaur genes
any time soon... eh? too many complications...
potatoes cost too much:
i don't feel like driving or owning a car...
i don't want to extend the misery...
or pursue it in a linear fashion...
    i better be dressed for a vertical take-off...
white shirt, black tie, blak shoes...
                  black trousers, bye-bye...
oh... right... some underwear would be nice...

i figured it out though...
i'm not lonely: i'm longing...
that's the crux of the debate:
no one is truly alone... no one feels lonely...
lonely is sick... it's a sickness... it's parasitical...
i figured it out...
not now... some hours prior....
i'm... longing... i am prone to project vague:
idealisms on people... it's a sort of a 2nd reminder
of Romanticism...
i'm longing... wow! even i'm astounded!

ich bin sehnsucht! i am longing!
that's my only counter: when people try to make the distinction
between being lonely and being alone...
me? i'm simply: longing...
it's what drives me forward...
that does not give me exacting coordinates of
existence... in situ / in vivo / in vitro...

i need: ich brauchen bewegung!
i need movement!

for sure: polite societies: salon societies once
need rhymes and piano / violen concertos to
entertain the ladies to be a better: ****...
but... no...
talk is cheap... art is cheapest...

those botanical parasites attacking my apple tree
sure as **** got their worth's worth...
i almost cried with joy cutting the infested
branches off... stuffing them into a plastic bag...
sealing it... hello gas chambers two-point-oh!
unless any willing vegans might want to
change, their minds, any? any?!

well then... limb by limb we go.
Robin Carretti May 2018
Please! Wait
Feeling so low
Like his (Blowfish)__
bait?
Jazzzzeeeey
Only temporary Oh! geez
Robin Razzamatazz
What!! All about Love
Candy Pez

((Enter me Expandable))

I need to fish
around so flexible
He
comments
You're quick
**

The Vampire Garlic
RIP I have young-blood
I will just relive again
To expedite
what remains
Love unconditionally
All hired with conditions

The restless young
outbreak
Native New Yorker
The busy talker
draw flush
In the Navy
Fleet week Baby
meeting crush

The Quickie
interview
Gift of gab 
 stalker
Or the hermit of Hermits
Languages
No demerits
Racing down
her wicked
thighs shower his
muscles

Sprinkle cone
Iced me
mortgages
get
me sick way to
quick to even sigh
Whats up with
patience
Include the Immigrants
Somehow American
women
Not very productive
They had Robot
watchdog like Gods
The money
where  your Apple

Mouth  I-Yahoo computer
And follow me
All followers
Kevin Quick morning
Bacon
Stallone Rocky


__ Expandable

In the native lands
Over the border
The Ventriloquist
Nesquik
Emigrant exhibitionist
Deviant outsider
The Spy Breadwinner

The I pod doing
the podcast

Outcast lady
The rain in Seattle
Hanky Panky
Snoopy hang on
Aboard love boat
so foreign
Her kitten tongue
was wide open
Eye wide but
quickly minds shut
Did it say?
((Too Quick))

((White Doves)) website
Riders of the Morrison
dorm
Ouija board storm

Him hungry
for her
smorgasbord
  Stars flu

* Planetarium+

Miss Tory friend
Terry's mouth
of Sherry
Met all their lovers
Sweet Cherry wine

In the Sanitarium
Your words are
not to hinder me

Kiss of an angel
You compelled me
Such a coincidence
The spell too quick

No heart of
citizenship
Walk like a man
Talk like a
foreigner real slick
In another land
Dance like an Egyptian
From the Godly land  

No man is
quick enough
To expedite
The quicker man
Beaten by the
bodyguard
No God this is a
Ladies Island

Pulp Fiction absurd
Vanilla milkshake
Saturday Fever
Cons
So many Johns
The quick reaction might get you in trouble taking it slow can also blow you off the Titanic. Please have a drink listen to music wings to your heart in the foreign lands or wherever you are never apart
Not a poem to be found
it looks like the rhymes
have joined the underground.

subversive little *****
ungrateful swines,
apoplexy
rhymes with what?
****?
not a chance,
not in the mood for mince pies
or romance
and
look
the rhymes are returning
well
*** 'em
I'm burning the book
and renting a
video

I'll watch Stallone on my own.
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2020
.i'm tired of writing for free... i did... no need... history can skim and read... an itself... me drink... me visit the brothel... me send a postcard... a *******... me vocano *****... o.k. *******!

diced-hiccup cold
mead...
i.e. joke...
when...
bountiful in loot...
who is who who
i.e. isn't here...
the wine of the dead
the mead of the: banshees!

i need the loiter!
i need the basin brain-dead
future...
my future my isn't
fwench
by: **** the champion
chess played-toss
of hybrid
badger yoyo...
and all...

dance of egg-shelves!
ah ha!
   mead! creed: wine!
no! the mead! not... the wine!

the loitering screetch
and limbo and liban...
dasein &
          der welt: and is and...
my favorite...
fan *******... yeah:
or "new".
Poetic T Apr 2020
It wasn't funny,
I'd used every spare sock.

Every newspaper that had past my letter box..

I couldn't use my ******* magazine
           as the pages had mysteriously



stuck together??

So I walked like a crab
         into my back garden..

My hose pipe connected,

I know how Sylvester Stallone felt
            In demolition man,
            three sea shells..

              F##k this S##t,
but no morality machine
for spare sheets....

F#########ck....

Ok lets get the water pressure just right,

I turn it on and my ***** swing like a pendulum.
               dam that made my eyes water..

This time I put it in the right place,
a unique sensation,
                but just as I was clean,

my back porch light turned on..

All I heard was,

"Frank don't worry its cold,

As he laughed out loud.

I walked back in my ***** sore,
                                   but **** fresh clean,

even though embarrassed..
Silver Heinsaar Apr 2018
Have you heard about the guy
Who never goes outside
Windows covered with blinds
Only a dim light burning inside
Neighbours wonder what's on his mind.

Truth be told
He doesn't know
Why was he born
Where should he go
When so little has been exposed
And all he was told
Is to not let the darkness get a hold
For that he has to stay alone
Accompanied by the movies from the 90s
Starring with Sylvester Stallone.
Check it Moor science global alliance
Gravity cant deny it
Weigh ya down welcome to htown souls of the bee sounds
Oh you heard rocking dope notes on the papers I wrote
The funds is tote gunsmoke see how my fours poke woke
Up the dead now they angry at me saying "why my godly?"
Oddly I been there before see the stairs with no floors
Clouds over the bed there my minds stead baking heads
Travel new dimensions lengthen swords to a tension
Extension overseas told y'all you cant flee from the Gods
Been following the R return of the rebirth for regrowth  
Now I'm back on top of thangs boomerang chain gangs
See the flows that hang on ya membrane leaving stains
We dont stop records until the tapes pops sound the drop
Pharcyde Christmas homicide new years with the raw hide
Slide me a pump me and girl taking on the whole wide world!



See ah pimps strategy is make sure you call em ya majesty  
Or else face tragedy gladly the United States ** us freely
Since the signment of the treaty greedy banks out to shank
Make freedom hard so it's illegal to think about the links
Put my conscious on a clink still tryna dodge the old finks
Police are leased to whip poor while attached to a leech
Of the government everyday the system is bent repent
Truth always love to circumvent falsehood there I stood
Blazed a graze at the smoke mirrors of a blackwoods
Two clips with rhine stones bandana tied like Sly Stallone
Rambo clone yo dont take me out my zone I love to roam
In the places where darkness lasts forever so however
I cant adapt to any weather spiritual advocates lift my lever
Armageddon sweater black tear stained berrettas cheddar
Rockin more than the Goodfellas like my women Donnabella
Clever with the moves soul soothe pin the needle to groove
Watch a solar display no delay I preys on the elite til they weak
Become some say it's a conundrum it's just glance of wars drum
M: You so petty like Tom be
Roaming around the earf like a zombie

P: You so petty like Tom be,
Roaming round the earth like a zombie clad in Abercrombie
Shut up, Fitch.
Pitchin a fit like a tone-deaf finch singin out of pitch, lickin a wack *** riff
Lost in space, trippin tha rift
Ya'll won't dig what I spit, but you could at least sift through the remnants

M: Here's your penance for the Cubs winning the pennant
Shut up man, you're no John Lennon
If you was a car, I'ma say you'd be a Lemon.
Here's my lime, it's a rhyme that I wrote in no time
About how crime can pay well if you do it right

P: It's time to plunder and plight, I'm full of blunder and spite
The Boy Wonder, I'm a robbin and I'm about to take flight
The crowd be clappin thunder all night
I'm slinging lightning, that's right
I'm Zeus, you're Hades and we'll be warring for the spotlight.
I may be a hater, but you're my hatee and the boss' order is:
Don't quit your day job, just keep on workin your nine to five.

M:I'm deep in the slime call me a Muck raker,
**** taker, but I never really give em though
Not a nice dude, but I've never really hit a ***
Kinda wonder why I ever really spit a flow in the first
Flow is absurd, crow is a bird, and they're murderous.

P:The rhyme is evolutionary, **** man, but what's a Muk to a Grimer?
Ya'll amateur rappers are just slappin paint on the canvas without a primer
There's no substance to your "art", I'll see your Trap and raise you a Hip Hop, cross the streams and blow up like Slimer.

Ya'll just some nickel and dimers tryin to hold up a dime store so you can pick up that dime sack that you're trying to afford.

The kind of fools ain't nobody got time for.
I've ascended Mt. Olympus, you ******* need to learn how to climb more.

M: Climb up, climb down, or don't climb at all
Don't listen to those try-hards,
Watch Die Hard again and then give me my vengeance.
You ever do penance? If not that'll cost ya six pence
And I need that **** quick since I already spent it.
Rap Game Tom Selleck.

Tom Hanks is a real person
Celebrities are real people.
I wish everyone would just feel people
Not like corporeally, but emotionally worth it.
Sober immaculate cut the tension with a hatchet.

Black people hate me cause I say I'm not racist
So I guess they just hate cause they faithless

P: Do not mistake the faithless with the tasteless,
But before I screech all my beliefs, let's just sink back into the cool relief of giving praise tot he great King Nostalgia.

Welcome to Good Burger, hey remember Hans Gruber, let's watch re-runs of Law & Order?

Your girl gobblin up my junk, call her **** Wolf.
More sinister than any Stallone villain, call me Mister Dolf Lundgren
Nerdier than any dragon or dungeon.
Dirtier than any old man askin his waitress for more sugar packets so he can drop em on the floor and watch her bend over.

Red Rover, Red Rover, this verse should already be over, but I cant stop reading this Buzzfeed article telling me the 5 best lines from Crimson and Clover


M: Prolly skips like a *****.
Worth the risk.
It's curious, facts
When all I spit are spurious raps
I'm furious, Jack
Like I am jacks unbridled sound of fury since my patience is tried but with nobody on the jury
It's hard to define if I should be
Calm or Worried

P: My destiny is sittin right next to me, but I can't pick it up cuz it's too **** heavy.
I get a grip, my muscles rip, it's stuck tot he ground because I am Unworthy
How unfortunate that I made it all the way here, just to find out I can't lift up Mjolnir.

Or maybe it's a trick of the mind, I'm a victim of fear.
Maybe it's time to let my senses unwind and focus only on what is near.
It's time to make a profit off of what my prophet holds dear in his lockett, instead of settling for a Stepford Career.

Gouda is good, and Cheddah is bettah, but I'm to to make some of that Gruyere.

M: Gruyere, Camembert
List the cheeses til you're Jesus man,
Talking like you even know a lil piece of the Jesus man's plan.
I think if any of us knew it wouldn't even really please us fam,
Cause absolute knowledge is pain,
Actually growing is lame, and all we are is ever in between two planes of existence
So find the path with little resistance.

P: My prophet ain't Jesus, do you capiche this?
God's plan ain't nothin but a back-up like a clogged drain, or where the food came
that hadn't been chewed enough by the backward's spelling of the man himself.

D-O-G

Lookin for his bounty, but I'm a gatherer not a hunter
So you best expect that I'll be laid to rest in peace while you're still suffering from the disease of lying through your teeth.
Best BELIEVE!
Of my Philosophy, you can not conceive.
Whether or not you've thrown away your virginity doesn't decide whether you're imprisoned or free.

To be free costs a fee, but the sinnin is free.
It don't make no sense to me, so I consult my sensei who says to **** down a sasparilla, smoke some sensimillia, and tuck my head between my knees
Until the atomic wind has passed and I'm left to enjoy the cool breeze.
*******! Literally.
What if God was one of us?
He'd probably sob because of what he's done.
But with no consequence his reign will run.
Check the mic, make sure it's not a gun

M: Nuclear winter is chill boss
As your lawyer I need to tell you to lay off the pills boss put them ***** back in the pill box dude
all theology is toxic really and western ideology is very jesus-centric even though dude was basically just a fasting eccentric

Oops the mics been a glock this whole time and the safety broke long ago prolly round the time the patriarchy spoke up and plotted the embargos

P: Oh, well, I guess we gotta ditch the stolen cargo
Form something new and see hor far it goed
Don't be distracted by the hard blows, I mean, the blowhards
Look no further than your own hand to see if your success is in the cards.

**** WE NEED TO DO THIS EVERY DAY
WE'LL BE UNSTOpPABLE

I mean you're alread nine million miles ahead of my ***,
I've been cruisin in coach and blah blah first class
Similies and poetry are base to me
I want to talk about philosophy in non-interpretable terms make the common people squirm in their nikes
Only a capitalist society can bring true revoltion, but the truth is no one really wants it even the revolutionaries are scared of what change do they want enough trainers so they can change shoes and listen to the blues to feel like feeling is real when it's really just a memory of something unlearnable.

P: Hey Nike, he likes it
Oops, I blew it,
I meant Just Dew The Dew it.
Obey the corporate propaganda, don't see through to the blue skin dudes n ****.
Throw them Locs on

M: Someone ******* **** me already cause I can't do it by myself
Cause I don't do illegal ****, I keep my trophies on a shef
In the basement in a house that nobody but the bank owns
Let me get some dank loans so I can open up a bank, holmes

Don't burn me, I'm tryin earnestly to fix ****
I don't believe in magic but I believe in possibility
which I guess is really just the same thing as magic when you get down to it
I'm trying to draw a circle on a chalkboard and jump right through it
I went t the school of truant bibliophiles the curriculum:
wild the teachers were posters of feral beasts with logos and copyright laws
I bet Gandhi quotes are trademarked, you dumb Marxist

P: Holmes, like the detective, but people never give enough respect to the perspective of the Watson.
Just give me that watch son, and keep on walkin
Betta hope I got all that I want, son, and don't decide to shoot you in the back and split you open like a sidewalk crack that'll give your mom a spinal tap when you cross it.

All you hear is a cocked back gat and then a BOOM BOOM BAP like the bass drum got brought back to like 2011
While your soul decides if heaven is really worth it,
Then your spirit will snap back into your body like nothing ever hurt it.
Rebirth it.

M: Like D.C did that
I'm post P.C. syntax
I bet I'd be a great dad screaming **** WHITEY cause white people hate that.
But that was actually a bad move making white folks uncomfortable
Cause more than half them reverted back to their most basest racist tendencies like two fold
Like who really holds the reigns really,
The work force is the horse and I'm a philly
Green is the universal race. Do you feel me?

Greed is the color of your mother's eyes while she hears the news on the phone of how your brother died cause otherwise it's your corpse of course you knew this already.

Anyways whatever man it's all pretty whatever man
Just be nice to people cause it's just better man.

— The End —