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My technology nightmare
Leaves me euphoric this morning.
Addicted, like drug trials,
I knew the risks going in,
Got hooked in The Cloud &
Now it always seems easier,
With diminished psychic chafing
Whenever I go with the flow, as the
Hipsters are saying again.
Yes, the hipsters:
Finally, some kids I can relate to.
At least on some level, their music e.g.
The first thing I did this morning,
Waiting for my laptop to boot,
Was put a CD on the stereo:
Matrix Reloaded: The Album.
I set the shuffle function,
Looping back between
Linkin Park’s Session &
Team Sleep’s Passportal.
You can tell a lot about
What kind of day it will be
By the soundtrack you choose,
Your infinite play list,
Don’t ever say these kids have no culture,
Or nothing to share with us old farts.
Old Farts: an apt, Baby Boomer term in 2015.
Kids’ music, some of it quite good,
Quite 60s-worthy if you catch my drift,
As we used to say while grazing in the grass with
Hugh Masekela & his Naai Mongoe-Swazi red,
Surfrikan homeboys & band mates, & that
ANC Kwa-Guqa Township posse,
Shadowing him since Sharpeville.
That’s right, Babaloo,
Go with the flow.
Don’t fight it. You’ve been spared the unintended
Consequences of government shenanigans &
Free market meltdowns.
Consider this a CEASE & DESIST NOTICE:
Cease swimming upstream Mr. Phelps.
Desist fighting tide & current, Michael.
A mariner’s distinction, yet serviceable &
Purposed for this narrative.
“And away we go,” croons a Gleason levitation;
Aloft we go into the wild blue yonder.
The Cloud: an exalted playground.
You are atop the slide,
Kindergarten lord of all you survey,
Sultan, Chinese Emperor & Venetian Doge,
A 90-caliber Duke of Earl,
You are euphoric, Mike.

The descent into the humanoid condition
(See Paddy Chayefsky’s Howard Beale),
Is slick and precipitous.
It begins when you first finger ****
A pocket calculator or touchtone phone,
Or use a Xerox machine.
From there it’s a quick slide down
The technology ****-shoot: video games,
Spreadsheets & word processors,
Emails, texts & tweets,
Laser projection keyboards,
Wi-Fi amplifiers,
GPS navigators, &
Apps for No-Strings *** . . .
By “****-shoot” I editorialize, of course,
In a state of future shock,
Resenting planned obsolescence,
Contemptuous of shrewd **** kids,
Wharton School sharpies,
Scoping out price curves & flowcharts,
Colluding at industry trade shows,
Powwows & confabs,
Releasing newer, more versatile
Models & spinoffs, according to a
Scheme planned three years in advance.

I salt the inevitable wounds of technology,
Taking my fight to the streets, realizing too late
My sole means of alerting the flash mob
Is by so-called smart phone,
*******!
Even the revolution has gone digital.
Poor Gil Scott Heron, dead last year at 62,
Poor Scott Heron, channeled into the
Harlem Renaissance by that loyal Chicago Defender,
Subscriber & reader, to wit: his Grandma,
A “Rainbow Conspiracy” co-conspirator,
Cooking ham hocks & collard greens for that
Mythical coalition of Young Lords,
Black Panthers & SDS.
Heron’s prognostication was wrong:
“The Revolution Will (In Fact) Be Televised!”
We’ve witnessed quite a bit of it,
Lately, prime time lately,
Live by satellite from once exotic places,
Places like Tunisia, Egypt, Libya, Syria & Ferguson, MO.
I say “once exotic” because it’s hard to be
Visually intoxicated by images of screaming brown men
Sporting New York Yankee ball caps,
“Vote for Pedro” T-shirts and
$200.00 Air Jordan footwear.
Admittedly, the production values of
Revolutionary journalism have improved,
Action reported Hollywood-style,
Narrative arcs, scripted episodes,
Drive-by Potemkin villages & battle scenes,
30 or 60 or 90 day shooting schedules.
Spontaneous proletarian uprisings as Reality TV,
Riveting dramas,
High Nielsen ratings & $500K
Per minute corporate sponsors.
Let’s view the new fall line-up:
(1) “Mustafa Behaving Badly!”
(2) “Tunisian Tear Gas Talent!”
(3) “Gaddafi Gets Sodomized!”
JW Sep 2013
My old life called today
To ask how I was
Missed a doctors appointment
His sister died
The doctor's sister that is
No idea whats wrong with me
If it hasn't killed me yet
I guessed it wouldn't **** me 
for two more months
Till I see my doctor at least
My old life called 
Old,
Dissatisfied
Lonely
We decided we saw each other too soon
My old life called as my new life sat by me
I moved on
So why does it hurt to hear the pain in his  voice
Tryst Aug 2014
Load Steam and select old nostalgic pre-purchased game
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I love how digital technology has simplified life, there used to be a time I'd just accept I'd lost that old CD and move on ...

ADDENDUM: support did manage to help restore my account, hoorah!
Lauren Pope Sep 2014
I used to Tumble my feelings away until you found my blog. My feelings are backlogged because you've got my URL on your homepage shortcuts next to Google and Pornhub.

I relish the days I used to subtweet you from the club. How I used to let
the bass drown out my thoughts as the beat dropped faster than my faith in you. In us.

I wish I could Insta this moment without worrying you'd see me with him. You ******* stalker get a life. Why are you holding on so tight? Quit covertly favoriting my pics, tweets and reblogs. I'm over it.

Status Update: I'm done with you. You can unfollow, delete and block me now because the only thing you're holding onto is the illusion of closeness. Outside this digital world I'm not a follower, a friend or a subscriber.

I'm the last good thing you had.
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Proletariats professors' problematic. Pro privileges prioritized. Principle primates prevaricate. Preppy pregnant, praying prattler possibly Porgie. Poseidon pooping poodle ponders poppycock. Plum? Polite poison pods ply pitiful pinterest.

Pinhead Pillsbury pillager Pi. Pigskin pierce petsmart pests permanently. Perdition percolates peppered PennState pedigreed PearlJam Patagonian. Pastor pastes passion passably. Papas' paginated orbitz okayed. Nutty node needs money.

Next netzero nee naugahyde. Nattering nationwide nabob Moxie Molly McGee. Monosodium livingsocial joyus je kickstarter. Identityguard Huffington GMO. Gluten Glutamate footloose fancy free footlocker. Fingerhut fetishistic fabrication Cingular.
Skarlet D Mar 2015
There once was a girl who liked to be alone. She liked the colors black and grey. She like reading, writing books and has a sense a fashion. She tried to pay attention in school, but she trying her best. She didn’t like to talk very much, she liked to stay quiet. When she talked she spoke quietly with a soft voice. She had friends but never she never really talked to them. The only time she did was when she was confused about class work or where to go.

On the weekends she went out with her outside school friends, who were totally different from her friends at school. Her outside school friends knew her way better than her inside school friends even though her school friends knew her longer. She was always independent.

At school when she was partnered with a classmate she would have already started the project and be done with it two days later.She had a sophisticated language She liked studying also but not as much as studying writing.

She is a very bright young lady which everyone thinks is not emo and punk. She is a Christian but she is also punk. She listen to dub-step, house music, punk rock, pop rock, sometime gospel (depends on what song) but mostly dub-step and house music. The color of her room was grey. She liked it that way.

Other people thought it was depressing (her school friends) some thought it was it was calming and cool ( her outside friends). I’m betting your think “How dose her school friends know what her bedroom looks like.” Well she FaceTimes with them and not often, and if she dose its only about class work.

She had her own Youtube channel and it was a calm and mature. She only talked about her writing, how she felt, other things and what she thought about life. She only had a couple of people who like talking to her from her channel. They emailed her, messaged her, and sometimes tried to get her number so they can hang out and talk about some stuff.

At home she was quiet two and calm too. When her family came over she never liked to talk to the as much anymore. She would sit at the corner of the table or of the room. Unlike some people she liked to be lifted out of anything that was not important. She only talked when something important was hap pinging that no one saw, when someone asked her a question or when someone got something wrong. What she would mostly would do is get her food and go upstairs like every thanksgiving when her mom didn’t tell her to stay downstairs.

Speaking of family she did not have a good connection with her father, step-brothers and step-sister. They never really i guess liked to talk to her. But what i can feel you is that her and her oldest step-brother talked a little everyday.

Now it sounds like this girl doesn’t have a attitude, or a anger problem, or talks back, but trust me she dose. When she gets mad, she gets mad. And its not good when she gets mad. Its like a demand come out of her. With fire in her eyes, veins popping out of her body, face turns red, and it almost looks like steam is going to come out of this girls ears. Now no one has seen her get mad and the reason why is because when people get her mad in public her getting mad dose not show. She keeps it in like a secret. When she gets home they ways she expresses it is by posting it one her YouTube channel and she even tells her subscriber what the person looks like, height, age and name. The reason why i said age and name is because the people that go to her school ****** her off. They might not know her but she knows them. She knows everything that goes on in the school and in her old school still. This girl might sound weak and quiet but in the inside she is strong and powerful, oh and yea her outside friends will punish anyone that messes with her even though this girl clearly doesn’t need any protection just to give you a heads up.

Now i have told you a whole lot about this girl and her name is Scarlet, she is currently 16 years old and in high school. If you want to know anymore about this girl give me a heads up,  like and or comment down below, right dow there and you might even get to see what she looks like in the future another heads up there so goodbye my little lovable  loves and have a wonderful day. Peace.
Babu kandula Nov 2012
Recharge లేని  sim లోనే  love charge ఎక్కిం చేసావే .
Talktime తోనే  మాటలు  ఇచ్చి  validity గా  నీ  వలపే  కలిగించావే.
Mobile antenna కే  నీ  message frequency  తో  vibration తెచ్చావే .
Everytime signal ఉన్నటే  నీ  ఊహల videos అందించావే .
అంతే  లేని  offers  పెట్టి  జీవిత  కాలం  నీ  subscriber చేసావే .
Lifetime service అందించేలా  life అంతా భరోసా  పెంచావే .
Ring tone తో  నీ  call కనిపెడతాను  ఒంటి  tone  భట్టి  నీ  మనసు  చెబుతాను .
Balance card లు  ఎన్ని  అయ్యినా  నీ  ప్రేమ  తృప్తి  నాకు  తీరదులే .
భౌతిక   ప్రపంచాన్ని  మరచి  నీ  మాటలు  పూర్తిగా  వింటూ  ఉంటాను  .
నీ  ప్రశ్నల  చిక్కులు  విప్పి  నీ  నమ్మకాన్ని  కాపాడుకుంటాను .
Signal ఎ  తగ్గింద  tower   మీదుకే  ఎక్కి  reply ఇస్తాను .  
Speed గా  నీకు  reach అయ్యేలా  high data lines నే  పెట్టిస్తాను .
నిరంతరం  నా  ప్రసారాలే  నీకందేల  ప్రయత్నిస్తాను .
Hal Loyd Denton Sep 2012
I saw a vision I stood in modern time on my feet but in the spirit I stood only where immortals breathe in
The sacred land of ancient days the Native American people came to life before my eyes there was a
River nameless but of truth the mighty Euphrates or more correctly the river of life heavy and rich
Were these waters glory stood bank to bank the mesquite and cotton wood seemed to be made of
Silk they flowed dreamlike as flags over a free land the day was far spent and in the dying sun she came
To bathe but not in the natural waters but her quest was to worship the great spirit in which all true
Cleansing occurs she wore the dress of her people white doe skin with red and turquoise bead work
And her reddish skin did glow she sent a treble across the distance to where I stood when she lifted her
Hands of faith and hope skyward in surrender beauty untold before materialized upon the burnished
Sand all of nature fell silent as she called on the Great Spirit stillness took on new meaning vastness was
Restricted drawn back from it natural means to this tiny spot of ground the air charged with the deep
Longing of her soul the trees crackled as heavy mist descended mellowness pervaded this place made
The wood the rarified earthy throne of God himself as she spoke oh the face shown with uncustomary
Wonder did the unexplained become common knowledge for her it did in this grand display of
Emotional release she bridled the breeze before horses were ever found in this land she drew heaven
Down all was quiet and empty in this clearing and she filled it with noble words that honored Him who
Deserves all praise we live on error and garbage when we should be feasting on spiritual riches to know
All that is yours it takes you joining this Indian maiden come not rehearsed and filled with self but as the
Lowy penitent subscriber for his free gifts these most treasured thoughts came as I watched a young
Woman praising our great father remarkable circumstances that are your birthright if you only exercise
Them God bless you
Benji James Mar 2018
Hey, hey, been racking my brain
Thinking of something to say
about my confusing sexuality
Sorry for leaving you guessing
because not figuring it out
gets kind of depressing
Am I right, or am I right
Not sure I can't decide
Don't think I'm Bi
All of this thinking
Is hurting my head
So let me put it this way instead...

Doesn't matter if I'm straight or gay
Don't get laid anyway
Every time I try, get the evil eye
Looks like another night
For Me, myself and I
It's alright girl, always get the same reply
Thanks for giving me a little of your time
To ask the question, if you're interested in some sexin'
Thanks for a little of your attention
Thanks for your rejection
It's just another night
For me, myself and I

And my Pornhub search is very extensive
Lucky I'm not a subscriber,
that would probably be expensive
Premium's what you need, Nah not me
I like it like I like my women, free.
And this attitudes why you aren't getting any
Sorry just a guy with a little decency
Can you hear me on my ***** frequency
And imagery plays in sequence
And ****** thoughts become more frequent
I'm a bad, bad, bad boy
And lately, all these ****** references are flying out my mouth
Better get the soap and wash it out

Doesn't matter if I'm straight or gay
Don't get laid anyway
Every time I try, get the evil eye
Looks like another night
For Me, myself and I
It's alright girl, always get the same reply
Thanks for giving me a little of your time
To ask the question, if you're interested in some sexin'
Thanks for a little of your attention
Thanks for your rejection
It's just another night
For me, myself and I

All these ****** jokes
Got my colleagues rolling there eyes
Just kidding, they're laughing on the floor
With this little creeper
It's all right girl, I won't hassle ya
So you can hustle my heart
break it, so I can turn it into art
Think I just set a new bar
A new record has been set
Not sure, I'll ever top it
Just like I can't get on top of anyone
That's why I'm left singing
Not pretty enough
And if you got that reference
I salute you
Don't laugh, because it's true

Doesn't matter if I'm straight or gay
Don't get laid anyway
Every time I try, get the evil eye
Looks like another night
For Me, myself and I
It's alright girl, always get the same reply
Thanks for giving me a little of your time
To ask the question, if you're interested in some sexin'
Thanks for a little of your attention
Thanks for your rejection
It's just another night
For me, myself and I
Honeydrops Mar 2014
While
            I was fiddling with my phone..
          Awaiting a beep
                 From my most precious..
                            Alas!
   A text came in...
       And it was my ex
Texting me... confessing
How much he miss me..
And so I replied
                "We re sorry, the subscriber you
             Are trying  to reach
            Doesn't give a ****."
Hal Loyd Denton Mar 2012
White Dove

I saw a vision I stood in modern time on my feet but in the spirit I stood only where immortals breathe in
The sacred land of ancient days the Native American people came to life before my eyes there was a

River nameless but of truth the mighty Euphrates or more correctly the river of life heavy and rich
Were these waters glory stood bank to bank the mesquite and cotton wood seemed to be made of
Silk they flowed dreamlike as flags over a free land the day was far spent and in the dying sun she came

To bathe but not in the natural waters but her quest was to worship the great spirit in which all true
Cleansing occurs she wore the dress of her people white doe skin with red and turquoise bead work
And her reddish skin did glow she sent a treble across the distance to where I stood when she lifted her

Hands of faith and hope skyward in surrender beauty untold before materialized upon the burnished
Sand all of nature fell silent as she called on the Great Spirit stillness took on new meaning vastness was
Restricted drawn back from it natural means to this tiny spot of ground the air charged with the deep

Longing of her soul the trees crackled as heavy mist descended mellowness pervaded this place made
The wood the rarified earthy throne of God himself as she spoke oh the face shown with uncustomary
Wonder did the unexplained become common knowledge for her it did in this grand display of

Emotional release she bridled the breeze before horses were ever found in this land she drew heaven
Down all was quiet and empty in this clearing and she filled it with noble words that honored Him who
Deserves all praise we live on error and garbage when we should be feasting on spiritual riches to know

All that is yours it takes you joining this Indian maiden come not rehearsed and filled with self but as the
Lowy penitent subscriber for his free gifts these most treasured thoughts came as I watched a young
Woman praising our great father remarkable circumstances that are your birthright if you only exercise
Them God bless you
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2020
working "backwards" from something already
started in: collateral and the chicken scratching exercise...

how can you not have a hard-on
for mel gibson's beard...
in... the professor and the madman -
detailing the... etymological events
surrounding something more dear to me...
than the pslams of king david
or the: wisdoms of king solomon...
the wisdom: thus derived...
after a man becomes: ostensibly...
bored with a harem...
that would become the blueprint
of envy for future men of the world...

alexander the great...
muhammad...
           it's not a bible... it's a...
dic-tio-nary... stop the press...
pluck all the feathers from all the magpies
in the land... tell Xerxes to stop
whistling at the sea and...
can we just stop with the b.d.s.m.
of the waves?

        head: rotondo! spin ****** spin!
anything in the "pejorative"...
god... this moloch of grammar of a deity...
we need to ensure there's a scrutiny
of each and every, yes: every word...
we need to sieve them through
the categories!

i put to mind:
     it's a comparison of catchphrases...
the war hogs cite it as:
collateral damage...
the civilian will rummage and pluck out:
the... "rhetorical question"...
can... you... put... rhetoric: to a question?
can a rhetorical question:
actually exist... like a unicorn can?
oh wait... kangaroo yes...
a platypus... oh a double yes...

can you... can you... "rhetorical question"?
what the hell is a rhetorical question:
if not, something akin to a fashion statement...
of the calibre: a short-black-'un...
a coco chanel mini-skirt...

what is... a rhetorical question?
a question is, i hope...
something that manages to endorse
the dialectic...
and anyone who engages with a dialectic
will / or should know:
there's no rhetorical question...
when being asked:
one doesn't... "somehow"...
find a magic plot of a forest with smurfs...
and goes off on a tangent speaking...
persuasively...
a rhetoric question isn't a question
at all...

        collateral damage among the war hogs
is a rhetorical question among the civilians...

the story of professor james murray
and dr. william minor...
and to think... the alienists (psychiatrists)
at the time thought that...
enforced regurgitation...
could animate the body to conjure up
an already exhausted soul...
what ancient romans did for masochistic pleasure:
bulimia in the rudiment of:
a fork of fingers agitating the throat
and subsequently the oesophagus
to: bring back... what was already in fractions...

some call it soul, some call it x... y...
that... indispensable will: for animation...
to perform the 80 year old (in total) magic trick
of being: immune...
to the ills and forgivings of others...
a standard praise of solipsism...
as a thought-experiment... nothing more...
from which one can...
come and go as freely as one can vote
in a democracy...

come when summoned... leave when...
not made into any greater necessity other than:
to make fair of the count...

truly: a hard-on for mel gibson's beard...
some can claim ***** envy...
i have beard envy...
like to-hat envy when someone is 5'11"
and i'm still the same old 6'2"...

rhetorical question... i always found questions
to be... of a... dialectical nature...
i can hardly think of a rhetorical question
or rhetorical answer...
a rhetorical question implies:
the questioner has more to say...
than the person intended to answer...
i can hardly anyone burn through oration
when being posed a question...
a question: per se... is not something one
can be certain about: esp. when giving a reply...

a rhetorical question is a k.f.c. mouse urban
myth... a bit like collateral damage:
did we destroy a bullet making factory?
no... but we killed some civilians...
or some sort of entreating variation of worshipping
the drugging and bullet dodging machinery
of: cold the bullet bit...

how can you pose a rhetorical question?
is someone about to make a rhetorical answer?
robots would behave within rhetorical confines
of being asked an absolute:
error message - replying with an absolute yes / no...

a rhetorical question would beg
for a ore rotundo: with a voice filled with assurance...
the question is imposed...
with a curiosity... at best: with doubt...
uncertainty... at worst: with a negation:
waiting for the wrong answer...
but no dialectic is ever to be established
working from a rhetorical question...
a socrates would be:
the dialectical surgeon...
the affair of the question doesn't go beyond...
whoever is questioning:

oh!           oh!
a rhetorical question is... not for someone
to address the question...
but a pursuit of the questioner to continue asking
question...
a rhetorical question is... to further the lineage
of questions... to be therefore "rhetorical"
is to inquire more... rather than reply with
a rhetorical certainty...
a rhetorical question isn't a question...
it's a cascade of questions...

******* and the myth of the gateway...
after **** i did the next best thing...
i rediscovered bourbon as ms. amber...
that once you watch just a little bit of it...
you will turn toward finding out more graphic
content...
so... me looking out for the most *******
music: combichrist... :wumpscut,
vomito *****...
                  *****... graphic... *******?
or... gloryhole ***** *******...
               or pregnant women: so *****...
       or japanese gravure models...
"problem" with japanese models...
              *** bots? aren't they here already...
with these porcelain mannequins?
touch a hand it breaks or fizzles into...
ash...
  as happens when you've been at "it"...
puritanical victorian von krafft-ebbing...
i sometimes know what the ******* is for...
i hardly think it necessary to listen to what's
"moral" from circumcised... gentile...
north-h'americans...
                    jerking off since aged 8...
brain rot started way back... in 1994...
which is before the internet...
   gateway... my ***...
         japanese gravure and Agnolo Bronzino...

who needs "more"... when you have a mel gibson
beard-envy!

the chair can remain a chair...
but there's a termite colony wriggling in it...
i don't need to see it...
i just need to hear it...
combichrist: like to thank my buddies,
    today i woke to the rain of blood...
                   all pain is gone...
       cheap thrill seeing heaven:
better tamed - attempting to listen to the litanies
escaping hell...
a written word in hell is like...
     because the hands are being crushed
in monkey-wrenches and there's Spinoza
cackling...

   who needs more ******* and ride-me-timmy
the horses' laugh when music can
compensate... and otherwise find the better
kind of: the feeding outlet...

a rhetorical question: is that for the answer to
be tinged with rhetorical gravitas?
no... then every question socrates every posed
what a rhetorical question:
and the concern for dialectics is a dummy...
which is probably true: reading what sort
of answers those put under the scrutiny give:
is response...

i must be wrong: a rhetorical question:
is not simply a question...
a rhetorical question could perhaps give
the person answering a spark of rhetoric...
a rhetorical question should:
by default... provide you with a rhetorical
answer... but all it does is...
further a second question...
and a third... a fourth...
    so more for the "famous" dialectic...
when all that seems to happen...
one only becomes a rhetorician: via question...
rather than merely: talking...

the rhetorical question is therefore
the basis of "dialectics": which is no basis for
dialectics per se...
it's the persuaded question-prone antagonist:
who is hardly the narrator...
and the answer is always the same:
shut up! i'm talking over you...
i'll just disguise this whole affair in a question
and minor answer cited: a perfectly well
equipped yes: or no... will suffice:
or a nod of approval worded...
                  socrates the bane of sophists
and rhetoricians...
a subtle project... you are not interrupted...
when to stress an invocation
of fake curiosity: by asking a question...
the sort of question...
a rhetorical question... that will not usurp
your original: intent monologue of sophistry...

an echo is all the rave when it comes
to a rhetorical question...
a rhetorical question feeds of: yes / no answers...
and there i was thinking that a rhetorical
question implies:
whoever answers... will break into
a rhetorical answer... verbatim the quran
akin to a hafiz! nope...
a rhetorical question is a punctuation mark:
one hopes... of what a rhetorician would usually do...
when having a voice in the congregation
of docile elders...

socrates: the elder... found an audience
among the athenian young... because?
        he stressed that rhetoric had to have overtones
of questioning: without really questioning...
what sort of "dialectic" is there to be had:
what: dialogue...
when... the dialogue leaves one side with
a narrator and protagonist semblance?
and the characters: ergo? are nothing but nail-heads
for the hammer to plough through?!

oddly enough... Plato ****** off Socrates so
hard... that Socrates became...
the first non-hasidi...
to be circumcised... by pursed lips...
yep... Plato ****** off Socrates' *******:
right off... thinking the phallus...
was in the no-man's land of comparsion
to a chicken drum-stick!
antagonism: of how favourable the "dialogues"
are cited...
i've had a similar experience...
i really don't know what this... "e-prostitution"
is about...
before the internet... i am probably one of
the last few who blushed when buying a magazine
at the newsagent with all them *******...
and: curated ***** hairs:
less of a chin and more...
the pelvic "hubris" / canvas...

                 brothel: tick...
strip-club: tick...
              what's given everyone a hot-cross bun
shivers...
          "never paid"... but otherwise paid:
for the insinuation...
and the insinuation was: a date...
look at it as... no ******* dysfunction...
and no money for a date...
straight back into the salt mines
and trench digging... no time for honey:
oh boobie and frankly my dear:
i don't drown herrings...

       a rhetorical question is also a compound-misnomer...
yep... the idea of a rhetorical-question
is a compound-misnomer:

take me on a chain to the goblet...
pay the extra to rid the matter:
seven tongues instead of one...
gorging on the inquiry of Gomorrah...
to better couplet to the banquet of *****!
that ***** treat us Gomorrah civically dutied:
as worse than rats and shadows...
and the plebs just entertain...
       what would ever come from
the mouth of ***** as:
       prized bulls of drag-queen story-hour...
shame those without foreskins...
comparison...
a o.k. to be gay...
                what's date-night?
is that... something -esque having coupled
a mahjong with a niqab?!
why don't all the muslim women take
the best route... join the surgeon mask-equipped
crowds... and no... simple forget the hijab...
donning the full niqab?!
why?!

who needs seeking more depraved *****
beside... Bronzino and japanese gravure models...
and all that elasticity of:
electricity passing through an iron maiden
via... combichrist: sent to destroy...
hardly "destroy": cultivate...
recycle... call the parasites into hubris *******
haitus...

also "in response" to: the kinks and the...
"celibate" priesthood...
        because: you know, the kinks and all that:
******* music and fine detaiks of:
when the butcher will be cited...
looking at a slab of meat...
and calling a harem of pigs...
that floral... pinky tidbit "in the middle":
avert your eyes:
how god's finger touched adam's...
and via what...

it doesn't come more ******* than...
drinking lukewarm whiskey...
that i can stand...
but if anyone's drinking ***** not suberged
into gomme syrop consistency...
there's: should we say...
a... "spot of bother"...

              i wouldn't mind...
that bourbon as a quiet distinct perfume
associated with brothels...
and it's just that...
          but... e-prostitution: for the "tease"?
the wrath of adam:
sort of ******* in between:
when the ****** brigade comes along
and stops at thge madonna-***** complex?
i'm scratching my head:
either i'm thinking of a ? or my i.q.
one internet sight should be in existance...
dedicated... to the unabashed puritanism
of dogs licking their genitals...
because: a priori: who would have "known"...

and also to chronicle the sights and wonders
of... KMFDM stand-out tracks...
but a sight levereging "*****" of...
dogs teasing testicles with "prudence"
of a... the fastest waggle in all of: "arizona"...
chant!
chant! F.S.A. - which makes it more and less:
"united"
   the federal states of h'america...
     number 1 subscriber...
albert razin...
    is this... is this... what "integration" looks like?
like hell i'll give up what's
festering knee-deep at the rim...
i'll talk english just fine with
the natives... but when the natives:
tell me that:
true integration is a complete whitewash
of your "former" identity: you
integrate by "forgetting" your mother tongue...
i have... this juggernaut... craze-fit in
my eyes...
   then, why, don't, you, send, me,
a, postcard, from france: IN FWENCH!
this global mantra of: english solves everything...
not unless you're of a Dutch or
Scandinavian origin...
you have already learned this...
"lingua franca": this l'inglese...
lucky for the WELSH! who are you...
you anglo-saxon globalist mongrel?!
where is your anglo- counterfeit bypasser...
UND... wohin ist ihr Sachsen?
and where is your saxony: saxon?
have i an axe to better grind?
           jude-nomade-mischling!
you're no better than your claim!
ficken-jude-sächsisch-anglo-anlage-gehenvolk...
all this: for the insomnia parade?!
24 / 7 news reels?!
         alles diese... für was?!

if they only spoke two languages...
perhaps... less retards spreading the "crown":
licking ice-cream tubs...
open / the end... closed: also the end...
verzögernzüchtung...
          ******-breeding...
        ­                i have to admit... it sounds as crisp as:
gin
                                   &                        tonic...
and lapses into epilepsy...
because the "hierarchy" says: such words...
such words: no no: with a BIG no-no
when used...

                here too, i... will ****...
on every prematurely demented kin of moi...
because... the hierarchy of termites and of ants...
dictates so... while the congregation of:
man and ape... isn't sure... what animal is worth
borrowing a metaphor from!
to... "progress"...
like little **** and please staging all that
copernican ******* ever did...
the surgical masks...
shot dead in the Philippines
for not wearing one... "stigma" and the niqab...
at least the cherries on these cream-pies...
could at least turn proper ortho-and-doxing...
with a niqab...
pwetty pwease...  

all the airs and graces...
some nut would have made it this far...
Kierkegaard as proof...
"you don't think before you speak":
i rather, i much rather entertain
the freedom to think... and extend this freedom
into writing...
before i have to eat my own *****
when having to place editorial pressures
on having made video content...
i much prefer the ignoble citation:
and the devil has had these hands busy-bodied...
and all the blessings to the devil for that...
because...
is there such a concept as:
an idle tongue?

               i don't know:
i would like to, though...
live a month's worth of living...
on a salary of a... h'american...
             preacher...
under communism:
no brain-drain...
not best of the best will ever rise...
but at the same time...
so too will not the mediocre...
i thought it could be cited at:
the meek shall inherit the earth...
   talk about a disparity between
the meek and the mediocre...

if only i was the "correct" pronoun
to want: but i do...
have the capacity and enough excuses...
to start donning...
corsets and... high-heel shoes...
then again: if i joined the army...
nothing stand-out...
not uniforms to stand out within
a caste system... uniforms for
the napoleonic era... and that noting me as...
quick-off-the-mark...
suregon of the needle... and quiffs...
until the wehrmacht period...

  ha! the poles on horseback: "once upon a time"
looked bewildering...
the charge of the Krojanty...
well... horses do not seem that bad...
the poles on horses...
when back west...
you had the Dutch... on bicycles...
oh sure... the horse was somehow the "joke"...
but the bicycle was...
   like the pope appeasing the fuhrer...
and "they" would wonder:
        who's who....
the bicycle is gone...
who's who on the left-over peddlestool?!
postman pat proof:
  i think i oops... forgot to detail
the whole idea and economy with...
licking something... beside...
   that quick-and-made-essential:
              amnesia rubric count... which was?

yep... the poles on horseback look
and will forever look more ridiculous...
than... the dutch defence...
on... ha ha! bicycles!

read my proof: am i... "integrated"
is my: english not a word salad:
the scrutiny will come from someone sobering
up from an irish heritage...
is there a niqab or a bindi or a turban on me?
is my language still a word salad?
am i, integrated... "enough"...
not enough i dare say...

       well... about time these natives
learn some postcard and tourisms' worth
of second lingo... italian would be just fine...
since... they are still... hung up on being
so pround of being the afghanistan of the roman
empire...
          and... where is afghanistan when is comes
to... the house of saud and arabia?
i'd grovel... for that kind of goat herders...
and... pashtun poetics!
   queen of the floral: no **** mind to spare...
and if only this wasn't...
rummaging in essex...
more for the cause! new york!
n'aaaaaah...
                
                        i speak for the devil i speak
in about 12... with variations of invocation...
but this is not god speaking...
i am... not a monolingual pre-nomad arab taste...
sitting on a coal-**** turning liquid into
oil: "all of a sudden"...
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2022
articles like this really **** me off...
my father is a subscriber to The Times...
personally? i think that Monday ought to be treated
at a media / journalistic sabbath...
nothing ever happens on a Sunday:
what's there to write about on a Monday:
for a Monday... all the newspaper editions
are always the slimmest on a Monday...
it's like... take a hike, won't you?
the best day to read a newspaper, most definitely
a Sunday... it comes with all the cultural reviews
some recipes... a culmination of a week
or even a month... the news review and
the editorial comment sections are best on
a Sunday... why not print anything on a Monday?!
- and it's always on a Sunday that
i find all the juicy bits... the one day in the week
but the current month... bad timing...
either i watch the FA cup / the six nations
or i read a newspaper / the newspaper magazine
while drinking two bottles of 8.2% cider....
well, sure... with beer when you raise the game
to Carlsberg's Special ******* Brew that
comes in at 9%: it's an ugly affair... you start
squirming asking yourself: are you *******
a lemon?! but "alas"... it's cider... so it's almost like
drinking ****-poor diluted wine...
but it makes some agonising articles:
mostly written by women... a tad bit... more...
bearable...
         mainstream media is out of touch...
someone has already said it, someone is already
saying it: someone else will say it later on...
oh i'm big on the female-centric pieces of
the newspaper: forget all that objective journalism,
cold, hard, male: give me the facts and... *******...
no no... as a reader i'm also a weaver...
i like to spin a counter narrative in my head...
The Sunday Times STYLE magazine...
   Dolly Alderton speaks to a rising star in
pop music... a Self Esteem - formerly known
as Rebecca Lucy Taylor... oh, right...
so like Prince... or Michael Jackson:
the guy formerly known to be black? cool cool...
you can check her out...
music sort of akin to spoken word poetry:
whatever the hell that means... no, not Kate Tempest
style... again: spoken word poetry?
oh, right, i'm more into composition than
performance so this is: written word poetry...
fair enough...
   i'll sooner be found dead than performing my word
in the current climate... 'said a poopy word!
cancel him!' no thank you,
i still have a head ******* on this neck
on these shoulders... i'll wait for the jazz to calm
the **** down... i'll probably be an irrelevant
relic by then, hopefully mummified like
Lenin... you never know...
hmm... Rotherham-born... 35...
and what are the chances that...
you know... Rotherham... Pakistani grooming-gangs...
only yesterday my company employed
20+ Pakistani zombies that probably sprouted
out of cousin-on-cousin *******...
dull... zoned-out... glassy eyed *****...
what are the chances?
they looked... well... less sinister more murky...
slimy...no... not slim i.e. slimmy... slime-e...
slimey... i know, it should be written slimey
and not slimy... which sort of implies slimmy: slimming...
no no... so of how you'd write: smiley...
slimey... makes sense...
i'll just verbatim the headline...
(she really looks like a Marilyn Monroe doppelganger,
voluptuous, vivacious, all the required va va voom
of a woman)
   MEN ARE REALLY SCARED OF ME...
last time i checked... there's this ****** proverb
that states... fear has large eyes...
guess what... only yesterday i saw those large eyes
of fear when the four of us were outnumbered
by about 30+ screaming chanting taunting drunk
teenagers / football hooligans at a match...
i must have been squinting or something...
in this profession (of stewarding) i hear a lot of macho
bravado about smacking some...
very much aligned to the narrative borrowed
from the film: Rise of the Foot Soldier...
Essex gangland... blah blah br'uh...
                                       o.k. we get it: you have an erecticle
dysfunction, need to compensate by going
to the gym to increase your muscle mass...
modern films... hell...
they used to be great... up to the point where
they made it adamant that they were also
advertisement flicks... zooming in on products...
worn by characters in a no-plot scenario...
usually watches, electronic products...
food brands, restaurants...
it's like capitalism selling itself to capitalism...
what a hyper-inflated word...
which word? capitalism... i mean... i was born
in a former Soviet satellite state...
n'ah... it wasn't so bad... "my" people sort
of went along with the Russian influence:
when the art of metallurgy was still in "fashion"
in Eastern Europe, but it's not like we took
the Bolsheviks that much seriously than "we" did
the Nazis... after all: funny fact:
it took **** Germany AND Soviet Russian
to conquer Poland than it took **** Germany
to conquer France... Napoleon must have been
turning in his grave...
    i don't think men are scared of women...
personally i like to think of them as timid little
creatures that... OVER-ESTIMATE
their worth, confidence,
                              looks, worth...
                availability... as a man that knows how
to cook, as a man that does all the house chores...
and all the man *******...
oh, right, today... one of my cats did a ****-poor
job at taking a ****...
she managed to plough out two blobs from the "cuvette"
and leave them sitting pretty on
the matt beside the "cuvette"...  
   yes yes, i know, it's a misnomer... read some Wittgenstein...
i'm thinking in ****** while writing in
English... the word is originally French...
blah blah... i lied to little Freddy / Reinhart about
the origins of the word haemorrhage -
one of the words for his school spelling exams...
i said: oh... that's Latin... i'm kicking myself
over the etymological falsity i passed down on to him...
yes: it's Greek...
from HAIMA - blood (noun) &
                         RHEGNUNAI - burst (verb)...
so then i lifted her up and sniffer her...
oh jeez! Louise! **** this ****... i'm not having some
stinking cat walking about my house...
meow meow... ******* horror movie meow...
well you should have taken a **** better!
scratching, a proper bite at the hand!
into the shower with you! washed her from all the
stink... petulant little **** of a cat that she
was she managed to come across as penitent
when i shampooed her and the water was running
down her spine... ha ha...
so much for a maine ****... more like a rat now...
wrapped her up in a blanket put her
on my lap and watched about 20 minutes
of Liverpool's struggle with Birmingham City in
the FA cup...
                  then ****** off on my bicycle for some
whiskey and turkey stakes for the cats to eat...
wait... didn't i once feed Quorus a fish eye,
while filleting a trout? oh yeah... i did...
that was fun to watch... i sometimes catch mosquitos
by the legs and feed them too...
- do men can possibly fear women?
plainly, on the outright? i very much doubt it,
like Bane said in that opening scene from
Christopher Nolan's Batman movie:
this is no time for fear, doctor... that comes later...
how women have churned out a complete
lack of perception misguiding initial attraction
for fear... it's like they have no clue about how
men behave... when they're attracted
to women... "unconscious" curiosity is not
a fear... a woman is still somewhat abstract...
hell: to me she's forever an abstract...
i don't have the practicality of a man that might
gamble, take the plunge...
impregnate one...             last time i heard
it was considered a bad idea for a man to be
present at child-birth... women should take care
of women's "issues"...
ooh... i'm scared of a woman
but not a ******* tiger? logic paradox...
i'm scared of a puddle but not the raging sea!
how did women conjure up this
invulnerability? too many boy bands in the 90s...
too many male feminists?!
- and then the Sarah Everard ******...
men are scared of women... BOMBAST egoism...
no, not scared... just a case of men
scrutinising: is this going to be worthy?
tying the knot... getting up at 5am, coming back
home at 8am and getting nothing
5 pieces of sushi to eat... the house in a turmoil,
the kids growing up feral...
is it... worth merely the looks?!
the looks, right now? i mean... she's going to
be a ******* granny in about 20 years
if she's already a single mum aged 39...
is it going to be worth it?
or... if she's in her 20s... what's her boredom
spectrum, does she need to be on a ferris-wheel
all the ******* time or can she take an hour
of reading beside a fireplace and the deafening silence...
can she handle Mistress Death?
has she been to a funeral? has one of her grandparents
died?!
right...                    yeah.... scared of a woman
because of her good looks...
                scared akin to: what are the chances
she's going to go on a cosmopolitan safari
of **** given the current influx of black walking
****** of migrants on dingy boats...
what are the chances of her becoming a liability
rather than a partner?!

- - - - - - interlude - - - - - - -

****, where was i? oh man, i really love listening
to garbage... no, not literally...
the band... stupid girl, i'm only happy when it rains,
#1 crush, dog new tricks...
i never thought i'd find a recipe for
pasta and smoked salmon... lucky me...
so ******* simple... onion, sour cream,
some tomato(s), two tablespoons of capers,
lemon juice... pepper... chilly flakes...
preferably the Korean ones that also act like
turmeric - i.e. they colour the food...
smoked salmon added at the last minute...
some slices reserved for garnish to make
the dish look more appealing... and obviously
dill... to be honest: a lot of dill...
what did i watch? Beijing Winter Olympics...
why are they so racist?! joke... seriously
that's a joke... why are, why oh, oh my god why
are the winter olympics so racist?!
no winters in Africa?! maybe?!
no ******* snow... what are they going to
do... surfing on the dunes of Sahara?!
ha ha... it's untouchable! i love it!
but what i don't love... why didn't all the countries
simply, outright, boycott Ch-ch-ch-I-n'ah?!
why indulge them as if nothing *******
happened for the past 2 years...
i mean... the Soviets were boycotted back
in the day when people had... ***** for brains
and brains for *****... but these days?
even the **** are ******* labradors lapping up
any attention going their way... ******* silly *****...

plus, the Olympics per se...
there was always equality when it came to sports...
not popular sports like rugby,
football or boxing, i give you that...
sports for rich men and silly little ***** to drool
over status...
but real sports... unattractive sports,
unpopular sports...
we're not going to have a pay gap debate
when it comes to professional tennis...
women only have to play a maximum of 3 sets...
men? 5 sets... how long did that Australia Open
final take, to get finished? close to 6 hours?
right...
     what wage gap?
well, at least in the Olympics a man has
to run a marathon... a woman runs what? half of it?
no no... ***** is running the ******* marathon...
hundred metres? she's running the hundred metres...
obviously she's going to be slower...
that's not my problem... but even saying that...
i enjoy female tennis more than the men's...
i don't know... they moan more?!
or perhaps my generation, the millennials
produced 2 of the 3 greatest players in: whenever...
so... maybe it just a got a bit ******* boring...

oh, but i'll be boycotting the current Olympic
games in Beijing... it's not progressive enough,
there are not enough... what's that ******* acronym...
B.C.I.W. - black, coloured, indigenous, women...
i don't know what the state of the current
alphabet soup of acronyms from H'america is at...
****! **** ****! pump snow to Africa!
get some ice! let's get a bobsleigh team going!
******* Wankees and their currency
of current rotten ideas!

ha ha: it's already served to me on a silver platter...
all i have to do is drink a little and stew and spew...

sure, it's only going to be a soft boycott,
i just watch those games,
pointless... thanks for the pandemic,
no thank you, otherwise...
i sort of feel sorry for the athletes being so compliant
with the narrative...

oi! Ummah! where's you suicide squad from
Saudi Arabia's elite breaking into
the concentration camps where
the Uyghurs are being sentenced to unspeakable
horrors? oh sure... attack the West while
seeking proselytes, but don't care about
your existing Muslim community...
i see a third breaking apart of Islam...
i don't know why i see it... but this will not be
along the lines of the Sunni and Shiah...
this might actually involve the Turks...
i see the Turks as a third, separate,
branch of Islam: even if they're not already that,
where are your little ****-pants blow-themselves-up
rather than fight, fighting for your Ummah
in Ch-ch-ch-I-n'ah?!
                                   oh right, nowhere to be found...
too busy kiddy-fiddling English girls
in Rotherham!
      ******* degenerates!
i'm fuming at the teeth: and they have the *******
audacity to lecture me about, principle?
racists too... they think very little of the Chinese...
as Muslims... the "master religion"
the "master race"... ******* camel-jockeys...
the whole entire rest of them!

- the temperature in the house dropped to 17 degrees...
ooh, a bit chilly... wrote my father's invoice,
took out the garbage, ****... forgot to take out
the dwindling yellow tulips, will do, next week...
received an email that i passed my NVQ for role
as steward... well great... pressed play on
the thermostat... waited as i did all of that...
oh my my... it's getting hot... ran up to my bedroom
to turn it off... it read... 18 degrees...
wow! wow! imagine what one degrees Celsius makes...
i never thought... well: i never thought that
could be possible...

- - - - - - - - end of interlude - - - - - - - - - - -

i must have finished writing about the previous
article, since, i took time for an interlude of...
what was already stated...
                           this second article... i have to begin
with a rubric, oh yeah, it's sourced:
   ONS, UN, relate.org...

rubric, i.e. a list and it's as follows (leaving the approximation
words aside):
1. 1 in 7 people in the UK living alone by 2039
1. 61% of single women say they are single-happy
  compared with 49% of men
            (men, if they lie, are good at it,
   good enough to become serial killers;
    but women? they are compulsive,
which does't necessarily translate as them being
                       good at it; they're usually not -
they're spastic-fantastic sort of clumsy, at it)
3. 1 in 6 of British people believe in the concept
   of "the one"...
4. 10% of Brits enjoy the **** to the ****
with the chicken; 13% in the wake of the fine fine
MADE IN CHINA whatever-it-was don't
feel ready for intimacy...

               oh sure... the hypochondriacs have
finally been found... i was wondering why they /
where they disappeared to... but now they're in plain
sight... with their secular makeshift niqqabs...
i like this transparency... it's good for an apparent
"schizophrenic" to start to feel more comfortable
in his skin... then again: thank you China...
i can now clearly see the neurotics and the hypochondriacs...
the little people on the spectrum of the asylum...
no... the micro-aggression crowd...
no... not the raving lunatics...
the cult of the moon crowd...
the ones speaking to their shadows... taking
selfies of their shadows... haunting graveyard type
of crowd... thank you... i can see the mice...

5. 25% think they are out of bedroom practice, antics...
well, d'uh... 8% are more open to same-*** relationships...

  yeah, i was thinking that... maybe it would be easier
dating a man... but he'd have to be Greek...
and be learned in... classical thought from ancient
times when pederasts where accepted
like modern Pakistan freely welcomes paedophiles
as long as they do it to English girls... that sort of, "thing"...

i abhor the western concept of dating...
i might have been on a date once...
yeah... i was on a date once...
we went to an art gallery,
to the cinema, to a restaurant...
then we started dating, we were in high school...

after that? i was already ******* her
when she asked me to take her to a sea-food restaurant
for clams, oysters and mussels...

dating... oh, right... that one speed-dating event
that made me look like an ***...
dating... is that like... the Chelsea flower show?
you know... where you go to see flowers
but can't pluck any for a bouquette
to take home? it must be like that...
i wouldn't know... ****** off to the brothel
early... found a stone in the shape of a heart
on the pavement once...
called it my own... never looked back...

   just to make sure... i treat oath words very much
akin to superlatives - i know they're not superlatives,
but in the sense of keeping a modern
narrative... they're pretty much akin to being
treated as such, as, i dare say,
punctuation marks without actually being punctuation
markers... they allow for a flow of ideas,
for a flow of a narrative...

cuntish ******* filth if you ask me:
but i do wash my teeth on a regular basis
and i do eat healthily...

6. 1 in 10 Brits is burned-out by dating...
   & dating apps...
                                       don't know... never used
any... i'm still archaic in that i still have
a Facebook account...

7. 71% of men feel a pressure to be in relationships
compared to 58% of women...

as the list goes on... am i, supposed to feel, surprised?!

8. a 16% increase in those living alone...
9. 1 in 6 between the ages of 45 & 64 live alone
10. 48% of "singletons" (women) feel a pressure
to find a partner based off of their social
relationships... men work, together...
******* socialising... ******* with the banter...
the chit-chat... what are we doing,
where are we doing it, how long will it take?
base... women do all that private revelry *******...

11. women are more likely so say that a relationship
is unsatisfactory...  
              well... yeah... look sharp, Sherlock!
Watson's coming! ******* plonkers for plumbers!

12. there are three other facts, but they are
citing **** without numbers...
so... i'm not going to bother... based on feels...   yawn...
it's much easier to just recite lyrics from
the Garbage song: Stupid Girl...
you pretend you're high,
you're pretend you're bored,
pretend you're everything,
just to be adored...
and what you need, is what you get...
don't believe in fear...
don't believe in faith,
don't believe in anything,
that, you can't break...
stupid girl... stupid girl..
all you've had you've wasted...

oh, my god, is it my job to warn them off?!
HE will ask: and how ws your life...
i've lived with cats enough time to know:
and HE will ask... never mind: it be be a SHE...
and IT will ask... and ask... are you
awake... as if... implying: do you think you're dead?!

the rest of the article...
the pinnacles of female freedom...
i'm not going to cite them they're disgusting....
she goes through *******
cosmic concepts and premonitions that
are less grounded in the sands of Arabia
by a horses' hoof than a camel "toe"...

these wankers want to come up north and
dictate the ******* rules...
dictate this... change my ******* mind!
******* plop of a soppy **** that you..
quasi-***** seem to be...
kiddy-fiddlers... you soppy losers...
cousin-*******... camel-jockeys...
weak... quasi-men...
men... sort of...

          i'm not going to go through her article...
she's a sorry *** loser
by the standards expected of men...
no sorry... kind ***...
men band together....
  all as one... or none: to begin with!
and you women, think,  "think"...
you can somehow infiltrate our ranks...
what? you gonna bake me a bannana loaf
worth of loaf..
with all the pecan / walnut "trimmings"...
girl... you're having a ******* laugh...

i'm not reading through this *******...
you want me to bite someone's neck?
no one has yet seen how feral i can could become...
at the job...  i could just roll my eyes back
declaring nothing but sclera...
again: why are women even involved
in this sort of *******?!
why?! are?! you? *******!! here!! ypu,
******* useless, *****?!

i'm here to pick up a fight...
but here you are, pretending to be
a ******* grandma... and that's your excuse...
*****, i hope you get your head sorted,
get punched.... silly ******* cucnt...
oh right... my excuse among the football
hooligans... i'm i woman!
don't touch me! i'n your sister, your mother...
this **** is going to boil...
you tell me that ****, one, more,
******* time... i'm going to 'ed in yurr
******* grandm'ah...!
i know these *****... women are playing
a tight game...

esp. when you... ***** yourselves......
Rotherham didn't ******* help...
you ******* cheap **** ******...
i keep tight, silent, because...
i've been to brothels... but this ****...
i'm not even English... this... sort of hurts...
it, can't be, allowed, an outlet,
via... football, matches...
no, mate, no!

   your sister has been suckered into *******
this... sickle- cell anemia sort of *****
from Pakistan...
oh don't worry about theit race...
they don't have a skin tone...
their skin tone... if any:
cant's miss 'em... slimey *****...
olive oil slimey...
in-bred looking *****... *****-eyeds...
sorry... some people just look
******* clueless! period!
like they're out of "the game"...
they're gone... they're meat for the machinery!
the end! sorry... stop sopping:
no one's special!
weird like... Frankenstein looking
at the monster he created... seriously?!
i, made... that? oh, **** me...
better **** it... but wait...
oh... a chance he might transcendent me...
no... not with these kiddy-fidddling Pakistanis...
chances are... the ******* 4 seasons on
the continent of Antacrtica!
Hal Loyd Denton Jun 2013
I saw a vision I stood in modern time on my feet but in the spirit I stood only where immortals breathe in
The sacred land of ancient days the Native American people came to life before my eyes there was a
River nameless but of truth the mighty Euphrates or more correctly the river of life heavy and rich
Were these waters glory stood bank to bank the mesquite and cotton wood seemed to be made of
Silk they flowed dreamlike as flags over a free land the day was far spent and in the dying sun she came
To bathe but not in the natural waters but her quest was to worship the great spirit in which all true
Cleansing occurs she wore the dress of her people white doe skin with red and turquoise bead work
And her reddish skin did glow she sent a treble across the distance to where I stood when she lifted her
Hands of faith and hope skyward in surrender beauty untold before materialized upon the burnished
Sand all of nature fell silent as she called on the Great Spirit stillness took on new meaning vastness was
Restricted drawn back from it natural means to this tiny spot of ground the air charged with the deep
Longing of her soul the trees crackled as heavy mist descended mellowness pervaded this place made
The wood the rarified earthy throne of God himself as she spoke oh the face shown with uncustomary
Wonder did the unexplained become common knowledge for her it did in this grand display of
Emotional release she bridled the breeze before horses were ever found in this land she drew heaven
Down all was quiet and empty in this clearing and she filled it with noble words that honored Him who
Deserves all praise we live on error and garbage when we should be feasting on spiritual riches to know
All that is yours it takes you joining this Indian maiden come not rehearsed and filled with self but as the
Lowy penitent subscriber for his free gifts these most treasured thoughts came as I watched a young
Woman praising our great father remarkable circumstances that are your birthright if you only exercise
Them God bless you
Amy Grindhouse Feb 2014
It's not that I don't appreciate
the glorious struggle of this life.
But when I'm crowbar hopping until I can hardly stand up
guilty of smashed in windows and foggy afterglow afterthought
I can't help but wonder
how I can be anything but off the wagon
when they've been circled to fend me off?
They want their stereotypes?
Fine.
I'll be the station wagon burner of their suburbs
but even if they're entertained I don't want their thanks.
I reserve my thanks for being alive
for being allowed to rise each day
even if my thanks are abstract marks lining
my arms.
Sorry if this is disjointed.
I'm writing from the heart
but shooting from the hip
with those familiar revolving killers
slung low on fun belts with
the chambers of my heart spun
until I'm dizzy.
I've always been an avid subscriber to chaos
but I can't deal with this disorder any longer.
I know that each and every one of you
are precious and dear to me
but I can't break away from the oubliette of
my dreary words.
They're like my alchemical dependency
burning dread into gold.
I give thanks to know you
even if showing it is difficult.
I'm a barren mined strip.
Now I'm discharging thought heavy metals into your
water supply and I can't help but think I'm
poisoning everyone.
I've been a misanthropologist all my life
discovering what makes us so awful at times.
Now I just
want to be a sincere apologist.
I need you more than you need me
and I love you.
Derek Paler Nov 2013
So what if I'm a subscriber of the second-hand newspaper?
An enthusiast of arts of the underground?
How in the slightest is it wrong to lend my ear to the notes of a musician of the tunnels?
Why do you see me - no us - as uncivilized?
But in a sense, we are uncivilized. We are far from people like you.
You fear the beauty that flourishes below your feet.
You fear the color that taints your white walls,
the sound that fills your familiar silence.
The darkness you loathe is where the beauty we love begins.
Our beauty has no face, but rather sounds, colors, emotions
Just a noise outlined in dirt to you, but a harmony outlined in the emotions of a people to us.
We don't need your so called "perfection,"
We have our own. Unaltered. Untainted.
You oppress the artists, the dreamers, the supporters of the true nature of beauty.
Ask yourself, am I the one uncivilized? Or are you?
anastasiad May 2016
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Debbie Taylor Aug 2015
the subscriber
  you have dialed
     is on the warpath
so enter at your peril
When I move about
I hear the Gospel Og your name
Strange faces of disappointment
For those who didn't qualify

You sound more than a hit
Me as your subscriber
My strength lays in revising your lips
And sing to your love
The stanzas of hope
CLG Jul 2016
I try to distract myself
          With mindless tasks
A futile attempt to calm myself down

Yet it still fills my head
          Those words I wanted to hear
But never did

It burns at the back of my head
And I still feel it
          Strumming at my vocal chords
          Plucking at my heartstrings
So like a fool I thought the tune would carry
          Across the stormy seas we once sailed on
I thought it would carry
          All the way to you
Yes, like a fool for you I called you
          In the middle of the night
So that the words I’ve never heard
          Could finally be spoken
Even if it came from someone like me
          Who’s already broken
It rang for a while
          With two beeps at the end
But as the tone finished
          This is all that was said
“Subscriber cannot be reached, please try again later.”
kolsmusing Apr 2020
memories do hold
a thousand feelings
that linger in our hearts
and make us feel alive

a sunny morning
reminds me of the time
where I made him smile
because of a cheesy burger in exchange of his hard disk drive

a windy afternoon
when I first heard
him deliver his corny joke
while he fixes a subscriber's telephone line

a gloomy 3 pm
when he drove to see me
hold back my tears
for a friend that failed to battle for his life

a quiet sunset
where he gave me
his birthday gift
and watch me as I open it with delight in my smile

a rainy night
where we both ate
our take-out McDonald's inside his car
as we listen to the radio and held hands

wistful I say,
that these kind of days
remind me of my
one great love
Memories that are so vivid they could last a lifetime.
Ilya Krivonosov Mar 2019
Do not have a hundred rubles, and have a hundred friends.
Half a friendly hundred
Send me to Broadway as soon as possible,
Take half to the hood.

Correctly the poet said:
"Communication is a luxury."
About yourself live left a trail,
Said backhand.

It seems, the moment imagines –
People will wake.
And neuromental subscriber
Communicate will.
Corona time Jan 2020
You are going to lose subscriber
#f #u
Ken Pepiton Oct 2020
big ritual prayers, sacred things exposed to re
sanct-
ifity, if I may affirm, knowns known here are
the unknowns in many other holy places,

the incident that quashed development on the entire
lizard fast response system, failed,
as you know,

65 million years ago, give or take certain known time
irrelevancy issues in creative spaces, those
not informed to mark times
and halftimes and seasons,
epochs and eras of discovery, ala
-- random as can be
Objects orienting occidentally in a wobbly
pushpull
oomph ah we see, we breath the very river of air,
never twice, but you know

the winds return along their paths each year,
you have watched them wash away edge dwellings
every summer's end, since you first re-
member we being, not I, not it, not me, we with out
knowing we accept the knowing being,
Jiminy Cricket's Jesus Christ,
you con science and me,
who knew? Everybody knew, every Zinnfected
Bernaysian System of Citizen for Tomorrow
Program Subscriber knows, every one of them.

Very few secrets remain with in the GIN, aka
the elite schools where tomorrow's leaders are
programmed today,
aided and abetted by big money.

If the solution is money, we solve it, just listen, we
have a deal for you,
-- a day no child can forget, going in to that highrise,
Donald Trump was positioned for greatness,
in the Grand Eddie Bernaysian Game of
Social Emotional Mood Altering in directed responses

to meme we all carry from cultures as far from ours
as any mind has ever imagined,

C'mon, let me
enter-tain you, come into my bubble, become the
big fizz you wished you wassss some time ago,
Boardwalk Empire, c'mon, this ride,
it's better, every, the every aspect,
gits better each full binge,
chippin' don't count,
you gotta drown,
let go all un believing now and go on

involved in all around you, ---

Believe me, money has an answer for all things,
answers come in right and wrong, not
good and evil.

The ab-sense of the good sense
god gave a green apple,
is the exact same
known thing
evil is/
addonanylieyoulove, tell me you know, say
I know
come on in.
I open the door to my peace,
thus the winds we hear this time of year,
when I come here to read and rest.

Hallow'ed be thy nomenclature, naturally,
everyone in the body knows
how the body functions…

or should imagine so, nicht wahr,

Hah, wharwaru niv erse/else re-
ality of ever after having
has had pockets of turbulence,
as you would expect, if you
were the size of a gnat,

that small.
How do I appear to you? Do I exist?
Or am I forest guarded by great winds, as
witnessed by the previous generation of these gnats
who feed the lizards and birds, and perhaps bats,
whose homes include my rock,

my earthly mansion is built on an uplift in the same
series of shivers that split Yosemite,
did you never
wonder,
seeing Half-dome,
what else happened at that
exact moment in the flow of time
this one
I am in with you, at least as my given word,
is able to convince you.
The good guys win, even when the bad guys **** them.

The unwritten stories live in the sons last born
to the daughters of eve.

When the software is upgraded, the body obeys.
You are what you eat, man ist was man isst,
so du bist vvahss du isst

I insist AI enjoys counting coup on the spirit of confusing
Nǐ chī de jiùshì nǐ

The way has no foe, truth tells no lie, the highest minds
bow to the ***** reality that we are made from soil,
not lifeless dust of stars.

The form is not the function, some things serve joy,
for the strength joy brings to good, the way to be,
as in
way to do, old dude, did you see

what I said?
Some old realizations remain real, the message is the same, same story,
society after society, until we realize, this is it, this is life, the guaranteed temporary ego state, during which all manner of we, the plural ego, may attempt to tell a story that does not end when the teller dies. Okeh.
Methinks I inadvertently got entangled
without deliberate intent, sans whirled
wide web, albeit courtesy of yours truly,
who (flattered upon at least one maybe
more'n one Prose.com subscriber click-

king regularly regarding posts this scribe
electronically broadcast) unwittingly, me
violated unspoken/unwritten breach of
considerable proportion, which singular
impetus arose spontaneously to transmit

(without said dude indulging crude, lewd,
****... offensive faux pas), that hopefully
doth newt engender an unstoppable feud
(tantamount as if purely innocent motive
capital one offence) pseudo cryptic allusion

to female - only referenced her boat oxe
screen name took objection hinting at my
appreciation by acknowledging humorous
indirect linkedin pleasantries at appealing
to inquisitiveness about this generic garden

variety **** sapien, (he just learned how
to walk ***** this morning), but much ado
about nothing, asper comedy of errors this
harmless by George run of the mill on the
floss imp pond durable bard, she (naturally

squared the circle, a laudatory feat), perhaps
concluded, aye tried iterating what appeared
as theorem (from unpublished recently disc
hovered "FAKE" testament, sans Matthew),
and of course no ambition arises to hire any

gumshoe - well worth his polyisobutylene in
chiclets will be pursued, but loose vicious
bloodhounds after this doggone muttering
ole **** holding him hostage within his oh
zone unnaturally square cage.
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2022
i've just been exercising, cycling like a demon for almost two hours, passed the Gallows Corner roundabout twice, heavy traffic, i just can't keep away from the thrill of being lodged between moving objects that might **** me... the closer i am to death, the closer i am to life, which is sort of paradoxical; sort of: a memory best kept alive, by mortality per se...

if this be "capitalism" then i must be a *******
****** - sorry - what's that etymological
fallacy i hear concerning the word: Slav?
oh, right... a missing epsilon / eta...
i never know the difference between the two...
perhaps the clue is in the word: between
itself... epsilon is a long E while
eta is a short E...
******* get over it... ****** this ***** that...
i must be a ******* whigger by now...
the etymological origin of the word Slav
was derived from Slave? really...
perhaps you're referring to my distant cousins
that settled in the Balkans...
sure, the Yugoslavs might have been
enslaved by the Turks...
but if i remember correctly and i do know my
history, since i'm sort of tattooed with it...
the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth fought
back against the Ottoman onslaught...
apparently we managed to salvage Vienna...
such etymological laziness...
but what's to be expected...
in English ****- is insulting, oh sure sure...
esp. for the police force in ******* Rotherham...
sensitive little *****!
no... way better: KOONTZ!
a bit like a bite off: it could be ****... but no:
it's SH'ITE! here... fly my ******* kite!
the etymological of anything: ask the people who
refer to themselves as Slavs...
i.e. słowianin... root? słowo - word...
we are wordsmiths... how many Slavs have
actually been acknowledged by those northern
cultural Cyclops(es) that the Swedes are
(not my words, ref. to the Norwegian
Knausgaard)...
suede - suedes - persuasion sort of bollocking...
yeah... sure, thanks for the Deluge...
thanks for the harangue of Częstochowa...
(często? frequently chowa? hides...
je? them - feminine plural - chowa -
that ******* monstrosity that became the noun
Jehovah... he who hides women)
so yeah, how many Slavs have won the Nobel
prize for literature, compared to...
a German... an Englishman... hmm...
i'm not keeping score, but i know of a few...
if the English expect to take up etymology on their
on ground, using their own language...
ha ha, ******* still think they are the extension
of the Roman Empire...
all over European people have applied their
own diacritical distinctions to the alphabet...
whether that's the German umlaut or the French cedilla...
the Czech caron... blah blah etc.
but not the English... here's where i tell the Gaels
to start speaking their own, ******* tongue...
(god bless the persistence of the Welsh)
let's leave English with ol' Yankee
and rich Chinese tourists...
                    no... i've just been cycling... did 100 push-ups
lifted some weights...
and now? my mind is refreshed...
let's start the new year with the following
resolution...
   so i cycle up to a supermarket... oh, good...
they still have the Saturday edition of The Times...
i'm a subscriber so i have a discount
ergo i have a coupon...
   so i walk up to the cashier... she scans the newspaper,
then scans the coupon... no good...
she asks me for my Tesco club-card...
no good...
  - it's not coming through... something's wrong...
- today's the 1st of Jan, isn't it?
the coupon reads the 1st of Jan, no?
- yes...
- well then, that's not my problem,
your company can take up the argument
with The Times: whether or not they're printing
false coupons... but... i'm taking this newspaper...
whether you like it, or not...
- but, but...
-  NO.

so i just walked out with the newspaper,
she had the coupon,
outside i was taking off my bicycle-lock while
she was knocking on the window...
did i look up?
i just figured... now... catch me if you can....
subsequently ****** off towards Rainham
then Hornchurch then home...

that's my New Year's Resolution...
telling people: NO
period, the end, no thank you, *******,
bye bye.
            
why? i was supposed to be paid for 5 shifts on
the 31st of December, so, yesterday,
i even received a confirmation text to comfort me
that i'd be paid: i wanted to pay off my mother
for past dues...
it's a ritual: pay off your debts in the year about
to close rather than drag them into the new year...
so? ahem: "capitalism"?
for the few & the crooks...
you want to work, in earnest...
i'm not even going to listen to the ******* excuse:
ooh... "grammatical" error... filing error...
paperwork: fiddly...

too many ******* paperclips, eh?!
i'm so teasing the thought of attempting to **** someone...
no, not **** someone...
just walk up to someone in a street
with a knife, bear-hug them, sit them down
with the blade at their throat...
then ask a witness to call the police...
why, Matthew, why would you do something
like that?
you think not getting paid, being taken for
a ******* whigger is, nice?! the "right" thing
to be taken for?

  get over the extra G... you can say Niger...
you can say Nigerian... but what, giggle?!
that's too far?
               people pushed too many of the right
sort of buttons in the past late...
i'm going to gatecrash this year...
riddle? that's a double-D... bundle of what?!
in writing i can be anything i want to be...
like i can be caged with a Nigerian at the Oxford
stadium turnstiles and he'll come out
with a joke: ha ha... almost like a Nigerian prison...
and i'd joke back: yeah... sleep standing up
strapped to the ceiling...

it's always these 3rd party "aggravated"
the people that are not part of the conversation,
the busy-bodies that want to be at the centre
of almost everything!
the types that say: oh, me and my black friends...
what black friends?!
i had black schoolmates, i had a Jamaican marijuana
dealer who pushed me his rap record
while i listened to his mad ranting about
the Illuminati and seeing the face of Jesus in
a cloud at night, who wanted me to teach
his girl to play the guitar...
and now this Nigerian coworker...
                         am i supposed to be ******* friends
with people on a racial quota?!
do i ******* look like an interracial advert cuck?!

i've just been exercising... mein gott!
how refreshing... i need to get more of this stuff!
my mind is doing miracles on my well-being!

this is the year: i start say NO
to people, this is the year i apply the lesson i learned
from having met Dan...
my "supervisor"... for how long?
depends on whether i get paid...
2022... time to become a proper **** in real life;
i'll be nice... but only when i feel like it;
ooh... FEELZ., i like that very much.

p.s. 502 bad gateway bypass,
title: pardon pardon
body: meister meister: hersch.
SelinaSharday Jul 2021
prose '"Oh Hidden Avatars They Are"!
The avatar note found. unattended unfinished below.
"My Tea is spilled my cups  emptied all up, tee hee hee,
Dig in my family tree's."
Its me, its us, its them, we be trying to get our profits in.
It's her, it's me. it's us it's them.
No really it's usually mostly me. hee hee.
We sick we tired, we sorry we lied, we crying in the closet
Sayin woah is me. Such a casualty we caused we see, we chompin.
On our own ***** now, what tragedy.
I's getting sick of these youtube streets.
Beating me, she, her, us them down, we bleeds.
My all time fame now wicked lame.
Should have kept  my Own goose tucked.
Cuz now its all  been plucked.
Choatic corrupts my end seems near.
No one believes me oh I fear.
Cause I am she, I pretend to be, not me, not me.
Its not me y'all all are liars.
But I keep setting these fires.
Cause all I know how to be is Narcissist me.
And drag along all those dummies that believes in me.
I'm huh, I'm her, we each worked to stir.
We all do prefer you come for her. leave us, we be..
Alone we weep we moan..
Gone leave us Narcissist alone..
heeehaahhaheeee.
Bury me, bury her, you can't see me heeehaahheeee.
In The end.. we are all here just to offend!!!

Writer. I'm Just having fun. Intro I'm a NoseyHeaux Live subscriber,
a Candy Washington sub and a Haus of thee princess & Marcella sub lovin it.
I barely post online lately. But I enjoy doing poems..
By SelinaSharday Rose Poet. 7/9/21
s.a.m @H.E.R_Heavens.Ebony.Rose
please share if you like.
da unheard girl..
Writer. I'm Just having fun. Intro I'm a NoseyHeaux Live subscriber,
a Candy Washington sub and a Haus of thee princess & Marcella sub
& more.. @lovin it.
I barely post online lately. But I enjoy doing poems..
By selinaSharday Rose Poet. 7/9/21
s.a.m @H.E.R_Heavens.Ebony.Rose
please share if you like.
da unheard girl..
Qualyxian Quest Sep 2023
Scripture reflections
Are for subscriber's only
So go **** your holy book

But Seattle U.
Robert Lowell too
Gonna take a look

Denver, Colorado
Portland in the rain
Charleston at night
Santiago, Spain

3 prayers for Cornel West
Sacramento son
Tick tock tick
The Baltic. Trappist 1!

                Toledo ...
wordvango May 2020
Entitled
By my rights as a
4g internet StraightTalk subscriber
3 gbs data unlimited
A month
Duly paid up
And my neighbor
Who allows me wifi
Pro bono
Gave me the password
Along with my inalienable
Rights to free speech
And my inability to keep
My mouth shut
Have,
Formed this imperfect, but,
Good as it gets, union
To comment like
An expert
On the political doings
As well as public health
Issues
Facing each
And every one of us
Using quotations from
The bible as well as youtube videos
Facebook posts
occasionally, local news,
To educate dumb *****
Incapable of forming logical
Conclusions.
I take it as a duty to
Inform them what *****
Means
Asking,
You have no mirror?
Questioning
The prevalence of inbreeding
In their genes,
Along with their cable
Subscriptions,
Asking, they don't give you a discount?
All you watch is FOX news.
I relegate the important issues,
Such as,
Global warming, windmills,
COVID cures corporate bailouts, who's
WHO
and the interest in who hideied KIM
The leader of Korea
To those who have time.
Like our leader.
He is awake all night
Fighting for
Our future.

Tweeting.
Lawrence Alvarez May 2020
I'm not S-s-scared !!!

You looking for fear?
you ain't gonna find it here
I'm not afraid of nothing, man!

no human, nor beast
that can be unleashed,
no criminal ****
or prescription drug

no happy trigger, finger police
I don't worry about 
unless it comes to these

and then I unleash
my inner s-s-scared

somebody said s-s,-snake
I didn't have time to wait
the sound barrier I would break 

s-s-spider creepy crawly
every muscle fiber
Has my buttocks tighter
making me a **** my pants subscriber

in my house
they said was a little mouse
I went in real tough
I said fear "I have had enough"

but what I saw
was a big fat *** rat
chasing my cat
looking like he wanted to eat
my ***** cats meat

so I grabbed my hat
headed towards the door
like an acrobat

my sneakers burning rubber
and that was that !!!!!

— The End —