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Kaitlyn Jan 2018
i do have a life of my own.
not everything i do revolves around you.
lately i've minimised my contact and relations i have with you.
and you're my best friend.
something has changed in you and i don't seem to connect anymore.
i think i realised this change of personality on New Years Day.
when the question was asked; 'what is your ultimate goal for this year ahead of us?'
'to **** as many guys as i can possible'
i mean that's cool and all.
and like i suppose i support you in anything you do..
but its different.
'to be content with myself and figure out my future'
that was my answer..
it seems like our answers could never actually come from best friends.
or at least that's my opinion.
but i think i've come to realise that i do not want you in my life if that is your biggest goal of this year.
but you act like its all a joke because you've realised that you will never have the potential to do something worthwhile.
too late now i suppose.
and you spring up a plan on me for a week ahead to be out of town for almost a week.
after evaluating it all, i found out i am unable to go due to prior commitments.
you know..? like things you promise to do and won't change if other things come up.
but you don't know that..
once i was upset so you sent me a text saying that we're having a confrontation that arvo only for you to blow it off and **** your boyfriend instead.
i can genuinely say that i was depressed and was on the verge of suicide and just knowing the level of importance i had to you nearly sent me over the edge.
i hope you're happy... with yourself.
as when i told you that i couldn't attend, you attempt to convince yourself that the trip will now be "mega sucky".
but in the same minute you send a message asking with exclamation points and all if it was still okay for you to go with the girl you replaced me with.
you didn't just replace me on this trip..
you replaced me as your best friend.
and i'm not coming back..
i guess that's "mega sucky"
**** to **** *****.
things i want to scream in my "best friend's" face to show her all the ways she pushed me away and just how she lost me. have a fun life
Brittle Bird Apr 2015
Oh, I love so many peoples' words
They make me feel like I'm not alone
But my own feel like whey and curds
Sometimes good, but usually just fine
To be saved for a sucky nursery rhyme
Day 8 of NaPoWriMo.
Chelsea C Reef Oct 2011
If you picked him out from a million people
You'd never think of him twice
Why would you? He looks like the average
Delinquent, hiding in the back
Under your radar.

If you'd watched him
You'd find that he keeps everything secret
At least until
He wanted you to know too.
Sucky Superman sits quietly across the classroom
      As un-super as can be
      As secret as can be
But even now, he looks this way
He remembers, from the time of
       His loving,
       His lying,
       His leaving.

If you'd see him as I did
The secret superhero, who offers,
"I will save you."
And so,
You'd take his hand.
Chris D Aechtner Mar 2012
I think in Japanese,
write down my thoughts in English,
then twist it all back into sushi:
a tasty bite to eat.

My mind is like origami
folding thoughts into meditation;
meditation unfolds
into a crisp sheet of city lights.

I love you big much,
love you big time;
I love the way you giggle nervously.
Titter-titter,
"Tee-hee-hee!"
It must be amazing to find everything so funny.

Big city, sake sunset;
a karaoke moon rises
over a robotic, neon inception.
(transmutation)
Transformers, Transformers:
autobotic-neurotic Bumblebee
comes to the aid of Samurai Prime.
"Autobots, transform!!"

Bored of the bright lights?
Weary of the snappy-happy gaijin
doing photo-photo
while they look for a sweet sakura-panpan?
Then take a leisurely stroll up to Hokkaido,
where there's less sucky-sucky,
and more bow-down-low-austerity
alongside the 108 gongs a-bonging.
Chant a few prayers,
speak with the sacred cedars,
take a dip in the hot springs
with some smiling monkeys,
and watch snow fall, together.

Nippon, you offer everything.
I can eat 20 times a day
without gaining a pound.
There's always more room
for miso, chanko nabe, shabu-shabu,
gyozo, okonomiyaki—
I am going to stop writing this list
so that I don't drown in my saliva.

I refuse to look back,
refuse to go back to the boredom
of white picket fences and hamburger dreams;
I want to stay here forever.
I love you big much,
love you big time;
totemo ureshii da.




March 1st, 2012
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2020
.i do expect you to become lost in this labyrinth - at least that's what i'd rather say - sleep-deprivation is for "some" reason to escape the mediocre of having catched the "8 hour wink"... or whatever the Minotaur wouldn't call it... because i wouldn't call it a "problem" of "gender-neutral pronouns" either... i would call it a "problem" of noun-acquisition-status of letters; notably in greek and hebrew.

friends of "the" family have been looking
for on fb,
****... the caron S (š) will not do!
i need to use two alphabets that...
did not nurture yiddish into existence!
cyrillic didn't accept hebrew...
it'll have to do...
it wouldn't be enough to simply write
my name in cyrillic...
and no... in hebrew no less!
since the vowels are hidden...
and inserting the proper hebrew vowel...
it still wouldn't matter that...
my surname is missing... the galician germanic
e(ch)lert or the e(sch)lert...
no... but how is one to insert
the right kind of vowel: all in hebrew niqab
harem of diacritical markers subscript...
when... you don't have...
enough letters as nouns as scientific
constants as the greeks... do...
i guess only η (eta) stands out as a sore thumb /
black sheep... but i am bound to be wrong,
in the meantime:
well it's hardly a letter-with-a-noun
inclined akin to alpha (α) -
otherwise all is well...
we use the prefix prime (the grammaton per se)...
and discard the suffix when constructing words...
ergo? a-lpha...
and so an so forth...
till be arrive at...
blasting your ears nearing deafness because:
beethoven's mrs. H is:
music so you have to shout over it!
loud! what?! loud music!
loud music what?! loud music
to shun the "pain"...
oh... see you in one of those classes
when you can write sign-language for the dead
when you've been allowed to write braille!
see you sputnik ****!
yeah, see you deaf in one year divine John!
but you get the promise that's:
not your everyday latin castrato sing-along...
those greeks sure have all the best
science... stabilizers... not a lot of songs
to sing along to... because their letters
are also noun-status: also have noun-status...
otherwise the ol' prefix use...
and the suffix recycling centre...
a word like: matter...
well...
   ματτερ - no... i will not use the greek word...
i'll state... mmm... hm!
mu implies m- and cutting off the -u...
alpha implies a- and cutting off the -lpha
tau implies t- and cutting off the -au...
epsilon implies e- and cutting off the -psilon
rho implies r- and cutting off the -**...
and so... we have the word matter...
and the recycled materials for...
some other words...

hebrews? hebrews do have... noun-status letters...
(א) aleph - what's vogue?
inserting the iota into the omicron that's
the marriage: φ (phi)...
or whether it's the turning of the iota in
the omicron to provide the opening of the door
θ (theta) to see: that light at the end of the tunnel
delta (Δ)... again... it's only aleph we're "investigating"...

the other letter in hebrew with a noun-status?
(ג) g'imel...
another is (ד) d'alet...
(ז) z'ayin...
(ל) l'amed...
(ס) s'amekh... most certainly (ע) a'yin...
(צ) t'sadi...

interlude: what is the distance
between (א) a'leph and (ע) a'yin?
a kametz...

now we can "debate" - noun-status letters...
the greeks are in the same sort of pickle
as the hebrews...
there can be a debate whether...
the greeks have more than:
alpha, beta, gamma, delta, epsilon, iota,
lambda, omicron, sigma, upsilon, omega
as noun-status letters...

why? because it becomes silly...
(ק) qof and (κ) kappa...
(ר) resh and rho (ρ)...
(שׁ) and... well... to be honest...
that's heading into cyrillic territory...
and the caron S (ш)...
given (ס) samekh and sigma (σ)...

this always happens to me when i come
across a hebrew...
even if he's old and riddled with dementia...
i see him with his polish bride
and i see a "romanian gypsy"...
the feeling is... strange...
this hebrew is like an old cousin of mine...
but it's always a touch of magic...

i am not good at solving crosswords...
(כ) 'xaf' and chi (χ) -
perhaps i have exagerrated the letter-as-noun
status on some of this greek and hebrew...
tightly-knit bed-fellows...
as the boasting resounds in the labyrinth
of the rise and fall of the roman empire...
and the barbarian attempts to have
settled the lands near the seven hills...
and revived the eagle...
spec-ta-cu-lar failures!

the germans should console themselves
with having a crow on their marching banners...
and polacks should...
satisfy themselves with the unicorn myth
of an all-white bald eagle... albino eagle...
and so the harry potter: minus ***** 'arry
can have their unicorns, swans,
honey-badgers, welsh dragon,
st. andrew's gryffindors... etc. -

name, a name... i need to... change it...
obviously...
no hebrew vowels will be used...
since... their use... is devoid of what's already
concrete usage of diacritical markers
in established letters...
if cyrillic and hebrew is to be used...
and not greek and hebrew:
because... well thank you for the new testament
riddle... let's move... away...
to "greater" / other... things....

i can't use a kametz alpha
a tzere epsilon
a chirek iota
a cholem omicron
or a shurek upsilon (omega)...
so all the vowels will have to by cyrillic...

my... latin, name?
mateusz konrad... let's drop the surname...
let's call it a game of:
ibn... or ben... matthew son of konrad...
and since i don't have a... confirmation name...
what name? i would have chosen: Isidore...
after the saint of seville...
or... Ignatius (of Loyola) -
the only fun part of going to a catholic school
was... learning about the counter-reformation
and writing an essay about it...
and their library was decently stacked...
so... plus plus...

this is but a simple exercise...
first the name in cyrillic...
there will not be a full name in hebrew...
which i'll probably lace with greek...
and it will still make all the more perfect
sense... should it be transliterated back
into anglo-ßaß...
yeah: why i don't have a girlfriend...
with these sort of interests?
i guess an hour with a *******
once a year is enough for me...
and for womankind in the hospice of omni...

just following the laziness
of the russian visa authorities are the embassy...
they didn't translate mateusz into matvei
or konrad into: Дракон...
мат-вей...

these are the sort of idiotic tier-1 level
кaцaпс... working in the russian embassy in Loon'don...

because i was never going to be the матвей
who'd **** an илoнa like the 300 deadly mongrel
saracren mameluks or the spartans... no...
i counter the 7 headed beast on her
with every ****** in that one night
i was making my final goodbyes...
but keeping the mikhail bulgakov novel...
through a repose in Warsaw and...
i finished what, "apparently" i wasn't supposed
to finish...

and she is one of those troubled girls...
every ****** partner that meant anything to her...
she will have a tattoo of that lover
on her body... i know my place on her body...
it's on the right shoulder-blade...
the tattoo is of a dragon...
i know because i've met girls like her...
elsewhere...

even as i was being driven home after taking
my mother for her rheumatoid arthritis check-up,
blood test, x-ray... and the pakistani cab-driver
was talking about all the precautions he needs
these days: video ahead of the bonet for insurance
policy... a camera looking in...
and audio recording on his smartwatch...
because what he said... didn't surprise me...
i once picked up a spanish girl - Tamara in a club...
and she decided to take me home
for a one night stand...
as we were approaching the house she was
sharing with three homosexuals
she decided to jump out of the cab...
and make a runner... i calmed the cabbie:
i'll pay for it...
we tried to later **** the hetreosexual way
with her calling me angel because
of my "erectile dysfunction" under the bed sheets
in that putrid smoke of cocoon ***...
like the birth of a rancid moth embryo and
choking from the heat of dust and alcohol
and... what i am alluding to is that some girls
do jump out of cabs to avoid paying the fair...
i knew what the pakistani cabbie was saying...
she owed him 40 quid...
he filed the whole thing to the police...
she accused him of ****** assault...
the story would have fit...
she run from the cab when he tried to sexually
assault her... but... he did have
that audio recording from his smartwatch...
in the end the girl was fined 700 quid...
which is nothing... compared to...
what's that called in h'america? a false accusation?
slander?
i know that girls jump out of cabs...
to avoid paying the fare...
i drove with one... who did just that...
i guess she was so used to this act that she
forgot i was sitting next to her...

- all the *****... but then all the chem-soup
post-psychiatric *******?
the ***** i can stand...
the pills are just tasmanian devilish when
it comes to catching the perfect
battery insomnia recharge...
and always meeting and respecting
the elder of the group darwinistic:
prat pact... a hebrew...
there always needs to be a yew
a *** in the equation...
no... not some english society
uncle tom worth of a high society rabbi...
i mean a jew that will support
west ham... because...
it's an irrational team...
it can fathom beating chelsea (A)...
but then... "forget" to win against...
for god's sake! Norwich (H)!

i know! i know! joseph conrad took his place!
here's my part anagram!
Mатвей Дракон...

the near non-existent diacritical presence
in the english language...
well... no "surprise surprise" if...
you're starting with
и (i) or rather (ı)...
and what's being the flock of salmon
up the river, being caught?
the j but not (ȷ)... imagine my... "surprise"
that the russians arrived at...
и and ı - in tow... ȷ and the й...
the breve...
parabolla or... my eyes only see
the microscopic details when someone
will simply slurr?

- borrowing from yesterday and...
in the early night of winter standing
in the garden with four potatoes
and something else...
looking up at the sky...
i am used to seeing unusual "things"
in the sky -
i'm not unusual when it comes
to having seen a u.f.o. - fluorescent
and squid like in colour -
but i'm also the sort of person that
would carry a few beers for such
spontaneous encounters -
rather running around like a raving
lunatic armed with a camera
filming the whole thing...
i have no proof: i hope my words are enough...
and if they're not?
well... if it can be seen with a naked eye -
i don't need to blink via a technological
feed and argue about: quality of the picture...

but even i wasn't ready for...
what i saw today...
those are roaming stars? aren't they?
and i really did forget to count how
many moved in the same direction
askew - one by one with equal distance
between them - before the distance between
extended - there must have been more than
10 - i'd say there were around 20!

is this always how things are -
when one contemplates the tetragrammaton?

part anagram? well because the russian
do have a version of the hebrew matisyahu...
but they do not have the german conrad
in their language...
probably as to why the germans do not
really have... a yuri or nikita in their language...
nikita after all sounds more feminine than
masculine - anyone could with hindsight
speak of mr. rocketman's lover of
the same same... as not some russian beau
example of the fairer ***...
but a comrade khrushchev...

- and why wouldn't i call those russians
that work in the russian embassy in Loon'don
кaцaпы? for one... they just type letter for letter:
a mateusz / a matthew is a мaтэусз...
for all "legal" purposes...
they already have the сз = ш...
bureucratic purposes...
and no wonder some are like:
how do you say that?
too many consonants some add...
and i really did think that all of us were
allowed to be fully literate...
that's not the case... blowing my own horn...

having a wet ***** over: because i like my given
names... perhaps that's why i didn't want
the confirmation option of being allowed
to change any of my given names: legally...
to one of my own chosing...
when i was 15 / 14 i didn't even known
or think about a name like Isidore...

when the german name became coupled
with a hebrew loan...
otherwise the russian with the first
being an anagram... drakon -
Mатвей Дракон - it's just a name -
it's my name - what's in a name is what's
precisely not in anonymous names
.666 handles and avatars on the internet...
i can own my face - and i can own my name...
because - i kind of like it...

again: on in russian can the west slavic
C be distinguished from the K... Ц -
and back into the cyst of the western lands...
Ç or what came with sigma's tail...
it's so... boring... to have less the different
sounding letters - given no diacritical markers -
and only the "exotica" of spelling -
all the metaphysics in the world combined
and concentrated in greenwich...
but no real orthography...
i could begin the day by bemoaning this poverty
of the english language...
oddly enough as both the outsider coming in...
the immigrant who became a citizen...
and as the insider coming out and coming in
again on that expatriate spectrum of
working from the thesaurus: IMMIGRANT...
for all the beauty of Macbeth...
i can have to ruse myself to bemoan
conventional english... the formal english...
the antithesis poetica...

but i do somewhat "know" why it's called
a tetragrammaton...
i wouldn't classify any of the letters that make it up
as noun-worthy letters...
the kametz (a) and the tzere (e) are nouns...
and letters... but you don't see them when
the hebrew doesn't exfoliate and is left
crude with "missing vowels" for the gentiles
to read...
saying that... calling ה (he) a noun is pushing it...
as is calling ו (vav) a noun...
or י (yod) - although...
the yod could be allowed a noun-status
as... an apostrophe... or a version of the caron -
but the remaining letters of the tetragrammaton...
are "syllables" in that they are consonants...
and when the tetragrammaton comes face
to face with noun-status letters of its own
universe: g (ג) gimel, d (ד) dalet, z (ז) zayin -
l (ל) lamed, s (ס) samekh, ц (צ) tsadi -
resh? shin? the gates are open to allow the question
in... but when...
there's also siamese Adams aleph (א) and Ayin (ע)
being and nothingness respectively...

what could Islam possibly offer me...
intellectually?
when i once asked a muslim what...

alif, lam, meem                                      meant...
he replied... only god knows...
so i thought... only god?
i must have been talking to one of those muslims
who have arabic overlords...
before they can catch a whiff of the almighty
blah'llah...
ا, لَـ, مَـ
again... greek only touches upon...
the initial - the medial and the final
version of sigma...
isolated you would see the capital sigma...
Σ - which could also be treated as the initial
letter - given that the σ looks more like a medial
form - although it's also initial -
whereby ς is the final form -
almost like the english: 's... apostrophe s -
which could be claimed to be an article of possession...
or the plural article when the apostrophe
disappears - or when the ς altogether disappears
when: the possession is plural:
a teachers' strike... e.g.

no not with a fatha - we have our own diacritical
markers... thank you...
but good question...
so... why is the meem written in an isolated
form in the word - yawm (day)...
but not in a final form?
but i do not write in a squiggly line in this digital
arena... perhaps my language looks simply
written... oh yes, the aesthetic of the arabic script
is always stressed...
but even the hebrews think like the greeks
and the latins... in a way...
nothing has to flow in one river-wry format...
there's no isolated letter... of a letter -
as there's no initial no median and no final
form of it... but there is a "question"
of the hiding of vowels...
for gentiles and muhammadians alike...

- perhaps some will call it the trans-community...
there was once a dead poets' society...
evidently with the rise of de-transitioning...
there's now a nag hammadi library society...
circa 1945 when this library was left unchecked
in the hands of: the children
with too many toys and too many sandpits...
probably that one neu-mecca of san francissco...
at least the dead sea scrolls:
that were unearthed at about the same time...
treated the hebrew far better than
the nag hammadi library treated its children...
and why the former power, the vatican,
didn't step in... to control these text...
as they flew out on a *****-nilly without
herr zensor... herr inquisitor...
i will never know...
the scouts of medicine left... black holes
of having advanced in the field of anaesthetics...
too many toys for the the children
with too many sandpits...

- because i would rather the fascination
with a language... than its immediate...
polyglot acquisition and use...
if i put my head to it... perhaps i could
speak the 7 languages my great-grandfather spoke
before jumping into the Niagara Falls
leaving a postcard sent...
but when i peer into the details...
i quiet like these two trenches of mine...
this english this canvas and my eye toward
the east and the south and semites...
just because english is a language without
diacritical markers...
a language filled with metaphysical dialectics:
but missing any mention of orthography...

a hebrew might hide a vowel...
and write only consonants on street signs
for a gentile to read...
but then the gentiles' languages morphed...
and a vowel became distinct...
there is A that begins the word: ah-men...
but there's also an A that is invoked with a tail
to point and identify a tree, an oak:
dąb...
so much for kametz being hidden...
if there's no 2nd tier "complexity" of kametz...
but there is one for the visible...
A - vowel - a vowel with a tail...
but without a name -
as all letters are - whether vowel or consonant...
in the litany and choir of the castratos
of ancient Rome...

pause with me...
what music are you listening to?
i'm listening to... years of denial - burning sun
(veyl channel) - 1,319 views...
i like to... find the better alleys of my entertainment...
as i can't hate kevin spacey...
not because of kevin spacey...
but because of lester burnham...
or more to the point...
why thomas newman reminds me of a...
reincarnation of Satie...
not a Chopin or a Liszt virtuoso of the piano...
not a when a hammer strikes
a line of 88 nails...
but when a butterfly chances the here and there,
on a shy-loot of a beauty of scarce sounds...
just the same of nostalgia for this era of
movies borrows me from out any new
suspence... as that sort of nostalgia creeping
into people born in the 1960s who truly
admire h'american movies from the 1950s...
even i am to blame when i feed
a nostalgia - more to the point for the technicolour
acryllic glow akin to...
richard quine's 1958 bell book and candle...
but of course scandinavian existential cinema
of a Bergman would be in black and white...
black and white photographs...
but if we're talking movies?
Undogmatic & Kernfeld - thought experiments...
Amanti d'oltretomba (1965)...

i will have to refine the greek to hebrew to greek
similarities...
an Ezra Pound can hide behind counting
matchsticks and reading into chinese ideograms...
when lo and behold! some japanese *******
comes up with a minimalism of the on'yomi...
or perhaps japanese is a language
that fuses elements of braille?
no point question the matter since
the mongols famously didn't come over to Japan
to add to the already Mandarin caste of
the kun'yomi...

but no... these greek letters are nouns...
even though π is equivalent to understanding
the wheel a posteriori: as a circle -
prior to there was only a wheel but no
knowledge of the dynamic of the radius,
or the diameter...
but it's still a prefix weak hardly a noun...
alpha and beta are nouns because they
denote something - prefix category shared -
but... the alpha and the beta male...
even gamma rays...
what's that? π-networks of coming back
to point (0, 0) in terms of:
no more than three powers of seperation between
you and some random from hugh yawn'khh?
my bad...
but η, μ, ν, ξ, π, ρ (ρ requires delta epsilon
and sigma to imply island of Rhodes)...
τ - but this is not China and tau is not Tao...
to tow is... to tow...
φ, χ, ψ... these could be names...
but ψ is like a crucifix for psychologists...
so these are... but at the same time:
are not names...
working from Latin, "borrowed"...
A (or aye)... B (queen bee)... C (i çee)...
D (dye or dry or d.i.y.)... E (eh? vowel catcher
arm no. 1 of the tetragrammaton)...
surd if the other arm... most notably in gujarati...
or not...
but this leftoever ancient Latin:
                                sing along! sing along!
a, be, cee, dee, e, ef, gee, h "hatch" / hay,
i, jay, kay, em, en, o, ***, que queue cue,
Ar, Tee, U, Vee, ekhs (x), why (y), zee or general Zod /
Zed... etc.
do i remember the "correct", french pedagogic
sequences of: letters of the alphabet?
i thought the whole "game" was about
the lexicon? and the lexicon within the lexicon
of the correct spelling?
are there 26 letters in the english alphabet?
there are! mein gott!
do i have to monkey-play-me-harmonica -
monkey-play-me-the-acordeon and tap to play
the drums... really? now?!
there were never going to be any alphabetical
sequence of events...
if i can remember that there are 26 letters:
the order of the pedagogues doesn't matter...
the lexicon matters... one's own vo(gue)-ca-bu-Larry...
short of Lawrence...
and shouldn't i give up my Lawrence Vogue...
i will certainly to remember to give
the "correct" order of what begins
with abc- and ends with -xyz...
this is the inbetween...
please see fit to spot a sparrow or a typo...

becuase if the british are to be proud of their past...
proud in the sense that it is...
fermenting and all this decline of the west "thing"...
of the people that has to "somehow" welcome
a revival... кaцaпы (plural of кaцaп)
is a racial slurr - designated for russians...
by those who had a pseudo-isarel interlude...
of what was known as the polish-lithuanian
commonwealth - of the last european pagans -
who didn't become the prussians
and made the bavarian spirit rigid
and militaristic...

i find this part of history... rather... infantile...
i have been taught a version of history
through the lense of infantalism...
perhaps science-fiction was the serious medium
of literature after all -
all of the past - if it is to be called a past -
is prescribed by zeitgeist -
my contemporaries' suggestion to be an infatile dream!
it must be a version of infantilism!
at least: that's my response in relation to:
the past having any aspect of being worth
celebrated...
me struck dumb being coerced by a...
genetic archieology of a past...
what some of the current people invest in...
mirror mirror: on no wall beside
mirror mirror: my face...
speculum speculum: well! there's always history
as etymology!
i don't like the word faciem...
where does visage come from?
oh... right...

quest to perfect the algorithms to escape
the everyday speculum was prime suspicion:
to speculate...
i guess any search engines requires:
etymological root...

mirror mirror: my void eating face...
my pulpit of vanity -
my valley of aeons...
my detail of the smirk the demonic glee...
of your most greyish glee...
of no concern for celebrated beauty...
or at best: no beauty to be exemplified
and stealing memory having invested
in the memory of cinema...
mirare mirare: comesse vacare visage meum...

now that's rather different...
isn't it? a history lesson with...
a stress for a post-scriptum in-and-out
"epilogues" (misnomer) and a return
from the trivia interlude back into the narrative...
only with an understudy of etymology...

who do i look like? some ******* ***
who would use such a ***** word as epistemology?
"epilogue" is a misnomer in the context when...
there was never a justifiable metaphor...
a misnomer is a metaphor:
for the **** by the ocean of the shore
in the vicinity to claim town status - Dover -
albino cliffs: more or less...
epistemology is a word most frequently used
by people... who read to people...
encyclopedic entries... cyclopes reading...
all that matters is the cwowd: which is the Velsh
variation of: that already numb-R lost trill
of tarantula bit anglo-ßaß...
which didn't require zeppelins or h'american
spaghetti accent westerns of draw and drule
and drawl...

such a minor racial slur when it comes
to the russians... soviets or red barons...
you must have never visited Moscow or St. Petersburg...
**** the right sort of ******-up russian girl...
and... if you're lucky!
she's take you to... the russian versailles!
Peterhof -
the racial slur stills remains...
a thank you matka rosiya...
satellite son over 'ere: the bellowing from Berlin
is like a sudden plague of hyenas attempting...
no... the foxes are imitating the hyenas...
which is which or rather: which is why?
a mutual agreement: reciprocated...
a great a great much decent ****...
for both of us...
the memory still feeds me...
oh no, it doesn't haunt me:
it feeds me... i could only find replicas
in brothels... i would never dare usurp
this catherine this tsarina of my memory...
i would never dare invest my personality in someone
else... she can be married her... 3rd time...
and this might be her 10th repentence...
of an 11th lover...
on this sinking ship: Potemkin i go as one -
reincarnation or no...
i still don't believe: this hindu myth of:
only a fixed number of people were every to be
born... and the rest are the harsh realities
of the base focuses of animals...
as we somehow drag these n.p.c. mysterions with
us... whether strangers or fathers or mothers...
are you not attached to your grandson:
dearest "catherine"?

such is the tyrany of the hindu polygamy
trans-temporal polytheism...
a diadem with a mouth for an eye...
and an eye for a mouth: or what better way
to salvage this grief of being only being 20 and 21
when having met and having to vow to
allow ourselves our each his and her seperate
lives...
at least some people call it:
the house of lords... and the house of commons...
on a much grander scale...
oh i'm pretty sure tsar (ras)Putin is much amused...

as i am now speaking with a borrowed tongue:
someone lent me a tongue -
i desired to speak with it -
imagine this complete lack of horror with regards
to being lent -
when reicarnation comes to the fore...
i agree: with "him": a most disagreeable
metaphor for... whatever it is the hindus truly believe
to be: the most humane form of
being allowed a human: self-consciousness
and a relationship to all those teenage
*****-dear-diary entries of... precursors
to the menapause and... the blue blood gremlins
of the big pharma pills-down...
the big pharma *******...

unless asked... always in uniform before your "majesty"...
as with any decent *******...
god forbid one of them thinks i'm jesus christ...
come back...
but never with these... grey-area maidens...
this "tool" will not be aroused
on the simple signature end contract promise
of: he made it to the finish line of a one-night stand!
where's the finish line of a one-night stand?
the next day? the *******, the *******...
her ******? at least the new generation
have the... cipher password for sexting...
or whatever has become of a good old fashioned
**** your brains out?
via you **** a plum sore tattoo into my pelvis
with your coccyx like a well balanced
african body of ivory beauty?!
you know the type... it looks like butter
in moonlight... like... what's the point of a niqab
in africa?! it's already... a warewolf has come
among the wolves...
and how i miss you, i esp. miss you when
i sit on my windowsill and listen to foxes
mating...
how those ******* squeal yank and bite nothing
but bone having omitted both the flesh
and the fur!
i miss you the most when i sit at night -
and listen to foxes mating;
after all... this is essex... this is england...
foxes at around 1am are my cognac...
beside ms. amber: and you know you'll also
be ******* her when i've had my fill...
but oooh... look at me: oooh...
gravy...
but i've watched! crows don't attempt fucky-fucky
tow-dollar sucky-sucky bangkokh style
during the die... all that is black that's worth
the crow is done in the night...
perverted pigeons during the day!
****-*******-me-into-a-voyeurism of their
greedy insect esque antics of coo coo...
then jump onto the rucksack of a female...
and all those beta-male pigeons... and that: huh?!
moment of bewilderement when he "thinks"
he has cooed like an alpha...
only the memory of you...
and all the prostitutes after you...
which always made imagining ******* you again
all that more simple; there was no кaкaшкa
with them to begin with.
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2016
i.

i really want to write this like a poet, but i'll probably
ramble on, i want to create this poetic haiku
or what one might call a punchline
in a joke, i will, obviously,
           i will (obviously) provide
how the alternatives would look like,
but sometimes i think that the poet
is enraged by the idea of the narrator:
or the consolidator of personae -
defeatist poets write from a personae
perspective, as if each poem is
a new and nuanced character -
a nuance of the narrator,
   yes: not novels, a plateau of literature
that poetry is...
           the setting is unknown,
but these people simply congregate
and say something, akin to the burning man
festival, and then return to their
day jobs...
          i don't know why poetry is less and less
resonating with music: maybe because
the old critique of poetry being faced off
with philosophy doesn't make sense
given that there's this rainbow of musical
tastes and the general diversity?
looking at the classical circumstance of
poetry vs. philosophy makes no sense
when the *logos
is removed and the phonos
is inserted in its place...
   bad grammar, bad spelling... why look for
meaning in words in the almighty sphere
of all things holy, when in the trenches
   people are shooting bullets not at targets
but at empty space?
    that's why i love the notion that writing
can become something akin to a will to power:
the power over not of those illiterate -
urbanism has dissolved such a concept...
  we became literate in order to read adverts:
or the iconoclasm of the alphabet:
pretty coca cola nearing arabic for all
those magpies out there...
           the myth goes that the magpie spotted
the shimmer of a silver spoon and stole it
and as the debate of the fates go:
i was to marry a rich woman and leverage
myself into a calm suspense... but it wasn't
to be. such is the case: when writing
can become as difficult as arithmetic of numbers,
and certain blemishes on the fountain head
of humanism that's literature can provide
the right arithmetic complexity...
   given that, what could possibly be the sum
total of this "poem"?
  the irony of the cartesian 1 + 1 = 2...
                in terms of meaning? in a polyverse
   of the what if? universe?
        a cinema better than the Hollywood industry...
that could fit into my concept of man enduring
for eternity, even with the vain hope of challenging
his mortal frailty... have a historiological cinema
of the what ifs... i'd sit in there and be like: wow!
Adolf graduated from the Vienna Art School
and world war two didn't happen?
    the treaty of Versailles wasn't a version of
colonial powers against expansionist politics
concerning a European nation? wow!
they basically didn't join the club of colonial power,
and they were punishing the colonial powers of
the time... or that's how i see it:
i don't see myself needing to ascribe myself
to pronoun pluralism in any shape or form:
it just breeds some overt concept of paranoia;
and obviously this has nothing to do with the title,
because it i shunned the narrator, i'd be a poet,
and if i wrote a cutiepie version of this
i'd feel hungry for not having played the piano
long enough while tipping a glass of whiskey
into my mouth... just is the curse of
enjoying typing: hurrah for our loss of handwriting
and that beautiful circumstance of writing
words with connectivity - by modern standards
undecipherable as if Hebrew or acronyms
and emoticons: puncture after puncture and nothing
concerning waves or serpentines of encoded talk...
beautiful... absolutely beautiful.
  the new form italics? syllable-ism, to stress,
punctuation marks in words: beau-ti-ful!
there, goes a weeping pair, that's Ludovico Arrighi
& Aldus Manutius...
    and what i do understand, and it's pivotal,
take the concept of a narrator out of the prosaic mosaic
and take away the concept of personae out of
poetry, and mould the two together...
you get an implosion worthy of a Hiroshima...
a bit like what the Beatles conceded too after
releasing their revolved album... they stopped
live touring... they had an implosive moment
and said: as any artists in the background,
we are the invisible hands of the plumbers
who connected toilets to the pipes: hey presto!
the Beckton ****-stink on the A406...
poetry can become this...
        it can also become something akin to:
etymology is a version of archeology,
although there's no physical space to engage with it,
   and i know why Heidegger turned the word
being into beyng... it's not a mutilation
of the word, he was practising a version of
archeology (not etymological) in that he was
excavating (as archeologists do) an archaic word
from the modern equivalent... Sherlock Holmes
of the black forest... found an amber tear
                      wedged in a tree...
i never know why they called it the Baltic sea...
i'd change it... i'll start calling it the Amber Sea...
given so much amber can be found on the shorelines
of it...
             and yes, this prompted the additional bits
in the title: considering the idea that it's twice as important
as what i will eventually write with dues for
the lightning bolt's worth of a title...
    language has to be mandible, language has to
be plasticine... it can't be dittohead bound -
strict, regulated, ivory encased in a museum hush...
   esp. if it doesn't need something controversial to
be spoken... exactly at that point...
          what was i originally intending?
            language as form archeology? perhaps...
no! no no no... the pro-life vs. the pro-life debate...
    a destitute woman, perhaps a *******, perhaps
a woman who was *****...
                         as the laws in Poland currently stand:
she has to give birth...
      i never said i agreed with the stranglehold of
my "brethren", i simply said
           bilingualism as a rhinosaur (dino remnants?)
        stampede against multiculturalism...
what is the perspective? i respect the culture that
assimilated me, only through having the capacity
to speak the language of the culture i was born in...
    multiculturalism has no respect for its
host culture, the multicultural argument goes:
if i speak good enough English, i'll still be able
to wear Pakistani pyjamas in public...
it's the hijab wearing English-pristine girl who
knows ****-all arabic: but speaks good English,
so she's assimilated well enough...
       and there's me... when everyone is going
muddles berserk in their groin regions
     flirting with bisexuality... so few flirt with
bilingualism... well: how could all that fucky-sucky
go to waste, eh?   multiculturalism doesn't work
if the person attempting integration doesn't
have a moderation minder,
    if you don't respect your own original society
in the least, as in: ensuring you keep your
mother tongue and do the utmost to speak two
languages... multiculturalism of people who
don't do this are just plain lazy...
   lazy!           is that an excuse if you were born
in a host country? only if your parents were
so worked up thinking that knowing two languages
was a disadvantage... and so the byproduct
of all things that aren't part of the multicultural
franchise... if you have no respect for your mother
tongue / culture when moving to a different
country... you don't have respect for your
country of birth... or in a more succinct way said
by Napoleon: a man who knows two languages
is worth two heads... etc.
       ah, the debauchery of narrating and not
orientating yourself around creating characters...
bliss... and also the main reason poets feel guilty
about writing poetry... the missing characters.
but onto the title and the main point i was going
to make...

ii.

over an egg.

iii.

can't we simply argue the point
between pro-life and pro-choice
over breakfast of scrambled eggs?
or poached eggs... or fried eggs...
or eggs boiled for 5 minutes
so the yoke is all runny?

iv.

and they said there's no purpose to
abortion...
         the most popular food of
choice for breakfast... is an abortion.

v.

i'd say... make sure those pro-life protesters
stop eating eggs...
           they're eating abortions...
but ****... can you imagine anything
                          more yummy than an egg?
don't worry, Darwinistic existentialism
of furthering the human question
   has already been answered by an abundance
of the Mandarin and the Sanskrit population.
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2016
without veneration for what i already censored and ensured that what Christianity venerates as holy, in curses, or oath words - in newspapers aplenty, f%&@ - and i would venerate that? why not the little censor backpacker with the tetragrammaton word forever hushed, thought about? enough fucky-fucky-sucky-sucky i'm sure - it's so much eloquent to censor speaking something sacred than something debasing - you can just claim to be speaking pardonable French - and i rather a humility be indebted to something that can take intellectual promises and fulfil them, than have to play peek-ah-boo with the murk of Cockney slang - so childish... so ****** childish i reeks of sulphur in what's to be achieved by "seeming" polite - even with oath words censored, people have no greater vocabulary - and i really do like to see a great respect of spelling.

in practical terms - i sort of "lied" about how how Hebraic
schooling hides vowels - they do indeed,
hide 4... i once wrote a poem entitled *two Adams
-
prior to investigating the matter further, only
today i stumbled upon the meaning - i was intending
a story of Eden with two Adams - a homosexual
affair - perhaps Satan the surrogate mother -
so less myth including the second Eve (Lilith) -
but the Hebraic school doesn't hide all the vowels -
it has two variations of the vowel a -
aleφ (א) and ayiν (ע) - hence the premonition of
the two Adams was subconscious rested in this
observation, i've seen a Hebrew alphabet prior -
but i didn't attach much detail to it worthy of furthered
inspection - it would seem natural that out of 5 vowels
four are hidden as if diacritical marks akin to
the umlaut or acute stresses ( ¨ or ´ ) - by
hiding four vowels you are bound to get a tetra-
something, in this case a -grammaton - further details
also emerge: why are two identical vowels apparent
among the consonants? aesthetic purposes? a full-circle
effect? a closure? i was in north London today and
i was spotting orthodox Jews, i don't know why
but i seem them with their curls either side of their heads
and think of Italian Mafia - they really do look
like the Mafia - call them Dactyl Mafia (not a foot
in poetic meter, or the sons of Cybele / Rhea -
but as in that sweet fruit - a date, plenty of date trees
in the middle east) from now on, i will - so with
4 vowels hidden as diacritical marks, 1 vowel for
whatever reason ~mirror image given the cutting up
of a- from -leph and a- from -yin - yang bangs
the saucers for a symphony impromptu as if Jamaican steel -
hence i'm supposing the deja vu of the H hey'tches -
and from that you get the perfect storm for perfect
laughter: עה אה
                          עה אה
                                   עה אה! (alias of a definite article -
looking at the world, no talk of philosophical veils and
ultra-realities - it's just definitely there and you might
as well laugh about it).

3:23 until 3:58 - Muse's Stockholm Syndrome -
in my hand Milton's Paradise Lost -
that grand Greek style epic that really bit off
William Blake's tongue and ear with self-improvised
jealousy - concerning book iii - Satan's entry into
this world - indeed through t book iv -
guiltless he, for the chess piece was already made -
and what only kept it from a sacrificial bite
was the motive of the game being begun -
the nudge of a pawn could have made a rook fake
advance across the line of pawns - yet man's
pawn also took charge.

no daytime interruptions this time - 400 years by
the pyramids and 3 years in Auschwitz -
the latter: no purpose, our insider was there, Eva Braun -
my grandfather visited Auschwitz, from the stories he
recounted... none of my relatives died there,
most of them on the front, don't expect me to go,
I AIN'T GOING! i'll go to a Kosher bakery -
i'm not going out of principle, on the principle that
it wouldn't be personal, or so i heard, impersonal,
catching Pokemons in that facility - as you might
have guessed weird things are happening in the night
at times, moving stars, appearing and disappearing
without a fixed zodiac - pretty common these days -
once i watched a triangle of such rebels move across
the sky, once a Gemini variations, most of the time
one star moving... then another -
happened to me in Venice, keeps happening
in Essex, happened in Ostrowiec Św. in Poland too
(my grandfather watched with me... thought they
were satellites at first... and i was like... satellites?
really? give it a day, you'll come to your senses - we can't
see satellites from earth! look again, same size and brightness
as all the other stars in static zodiac, to the naked eye
and not a telescopic eye, the same size) -
so i'm sitting there having a beer, and giving up my
thought to the altar of what's happening -
three proofs during the night - star of Bethlehem -
the Koran - come on! total darkness - we're talking
using phonetic encoding by an illiterate person -
good at numbers when it came to being a merchant -
but in terms of letters? total caveman, Khadija (Muhammad's
first wife) must have written the first few Surahs -
Stephen Vizinczey's in praise of older women -
learning a foreign language aged 40 must be hard enough,
this is Prophet Blind-man in Reverse - it's a completely
different story being literate an being illiterate, esp. when
looking at sound encoding - less damaging for the latter,
even more damaging for the former given universal
education and the lost monopoly on literacy by the priesthood.
so, those two proofs (after 40 days in the desert without
food or water, any idiot could make water into wine -
imagine the dehydration, alcohol dehydrates, hydrate
and you'd be jumping-jack any time, esp. at a wedding,
with so much joy euphoria adding to a sip of water after
40 days in a desert).
Mia Mar 2013
I feel really stupid
For loving you without reservations.
I feel duped somehow.
For believing you were the one.
Every girl dreams of meeting him,
I thought i was lucky.
I never expected to end up broken
Beating myself up over the years wasted.
Greys and pastels by your side
Making you happy.
There must be something messed up with me
Why couldn't i be content with bits and pieces?
Instead i wanted all of it
Unending forever together.
Joke's on me,
It really is over.
Mateuš Conrad May 2016
so this nun mary from the school
of the sisters of notre dame
(dame or Dane?) had her brain removed
and probed: full of plaques and entanglements,
advanced Alzheimer's the coroner said,
aged 101 the brain,
yet up to her death no symptoms of the disease...
she was one of 678 subjects of the nun study,
American experiment genesis 1986 a.d.,
(journalism is really a true ally of poetry),
the 678 were told to write a character assassination
in range between poetry and diary (in their 20s),
"low idea" density they did produce,
but like Sister Anastasia: an amazing poppy-seed cake.
indeed dementia, the western medical anxiety,
10% of people over 60 and 50% of those over 85,
the grey plague i call it (grey matter, no
vermin scuttling about);
men are particularly less at the risk,
long gone the vogue of smoking tobacco -
could have asked the Apache indians about
peace-pipes long into their 90s... but no.
Aloysius Alzheimer / Oppenheimer
discovered the anti-ego unit and the atom bomb
with the neuron, in the latter case the 'd'uh' gene...
cave in the vowels on discretion
saying 'y Dinosaur kno'w, but i saw
a big mushroom boom' caving in meaning they
have to sound more hollow than you thought before
(the vowels, the vowels)...
like the article states, is it really a dis-ease?
i.e. a negation of ease? only if you found learning
at school to be torture and equipped with
a mentality for menial tasks like sunset on a monday
or summer 1904 so too summer of 2014...
no dementia in the giant Galapagos turtles,
they outlive us and still have a brain-rate
on a scale of: take one step here, plop a **** there...
lettuce, lettuce, lettuce... munching this greenery
will take forever! indeed the backlog of libraries of
knowledge and the result of those pioneer futilities
never tapped, still fucky fucky, toow dollar sucky sucky
on the cranium donning a crown.
the rest of the article concerning 4 inches closer
between the finger that dipped into peanut butter
(a closed mouth, eyes, and one nostril)
and identification of nature's diarrhoea (mm those
crunchy bits of fungi and corn undigested) -
but i'd tell you the experiment is faulty,
the peanut butter served up probably wasn't warmed up,
sense of smell and gaseous imprints, like
chlorine the disinfectant in public swimming pools...
not watching television a big give-away,
leisure time spent watching Plato's cave
at 27% of the sigma elsewhere and 18% by those
not afflicted...
then there's the whole dementia diabetes debate,
vegetables versus fruits... vegetables win...
Alzheimer's (also known as type 3 diabetes)...
imagine a creature coerced into disbelieving the
existence of water, and that alcohol is water
and a hamburger, that's me...
remember that nuns are cloistered yet sociable...

general hardbacks
1. the unmumsy mum (50,195 examples sold)
2. how it works: the mum (119,830 examples sold)
3. how it works: the husband (312,910 examples sold)

general paperbacks
1. the road to little dribbling (68,270 examples sold)
2. SPQR (26,765 examples sold)
3. the shepherd's life (61,000 examples sold)

want the fiction statistics of the publishing industry?
here goes:

fiction hardbacks
1. the last mile (4,190 examples sold)
2. private paris (3,225       "             "  )
3. predator (22,430            "             "  )

fiction paperback
1. career of evil (16,865    "              " )
2. the girl in the spider's web (55,625 examples sold)
3. make me (127,395 examples sold)

so there's that and there's the 148 diaries found in a skip
(a life discarded): apparently only 148 diaries remained
from a total of 1,000, the universal truth after seeing
Iolanthe, running incompletely from 1952 (Cambridge),
a "true thing" at 30 words per minute ranging between
1 and 3 hours of composition daily (handwritten,
imagine writing with a keyboard ***,
hand-crafted in Israel, yes the *** is an Israeli invention),

so there's that, all the intellectuals bits and bobs,
but there's also:
#instawoman: 'mostly non-fiction - so i keep
them in the loo. a paragraph is better than nothing,
even if it takes me five years to finish a book.

agony aunt "mrs. mills'" replies to modern truffles
(sorry, trivialities): my b/f wants to have ***
on trains on the Glaswegian side of scotland
bit tipsy bit turvy (turdy?) and popping to do likewise
on the Cornish coastline, her reply?
****** pervert... fetishism (Freud believed)
derived from a man's unconscious terror of once
having stuck his head out of his mother's ******...
(hey! my bladder man! my ****! that ****
didn't develop till i was outside that annoying
oven / aquarium!) - so she replies and says:
whisper "the seven o'clock London Liverpool St.
to Norwich", and as my own input:
for a premature *******.

that's Sunday sorted then.
deanena tierney Dec 2010
When I'm in your arms, things are certain.
When your hand's in mine, I don't doubt.
But as soon as distance steps in between,
My soul just somehow feels "without".

And I can't seem to explain it.
How can a connection be real?
When it disappears so quickly,
Just because I can no longer feel..

Your breathe, so soft, upon my neck,
Your eyes, so deep, focused on me,
Your arms snaked about my waist,
Words whispered from lips , so lovingly.

So the only way I can feel happy,
The only way I feel "right" with you,
Is to stay in your presence forever,
And that just simply won't do.
Zak Ridge Mar 2010
My dream's they rebel against me, they fill my sleeping hours with visions of you,
I nightly storm of hope that evaporates in the cold morning light leaving me as empty as the discarded whiskey bottle by my bed,
How cruel they are to place you in my arms when such things may never occur,
to place your body next to me to press your lips to mine.
These things I dream of in the day but to feel them as real as the warmth of the sun when I rest my weary bones is a sin I perpetrate upon myself without malice or forethought.
Why must I torture myself so when I have no hope that you would be mine.
Is this a punishment for living such a mundane life that could never entice you?
Is this karma returning my pain ten fold for so many wrongs against my
fellow man?
No matter though for when I sleep there you will be, I will feel your
warmth your breath your touch for a few fleeting hours when my soul will soar with joy and when the dawn breaks my slumber let the pain start afresh for such is my lot without you
Jed Oct 2012
Smoke in the summer Forget
about the winter Ash glows
like sunsets Tried it once
before Coughed till I couldn't
anymore Asthma is the worst

Once bought a soft pack
My cigarettes were soggy Buying
hard packs now What the
**** is that In my
skinny cigarette Change about fifty

Go outside the joint Ask
around for a loosie Bumming
cigs is hard Tender cigarette
After a sucky *** daze
I want you back now
((5-7-5)*2)*3 stanzas/(5 lines^5 words)
Lover of Words Oct 2012
19 years of boring days,
19 years of tears,
19 years of things drastically falling apart and never making any sense,
that is 19 years of trying to figure things out, like my body, and who the heck am I?
19 years of loving any guy who dare speak to me,
and 19 years of heartache figuring out that they didn't love me back,
19 years of dreaming and reading and wondering,
19 years of thinking, about everything really,
About God, and life, and why in the world am I here,
and 19 years of drawing,
19 years of human pain, like that time I had to get surgery for a broken leg,
Then there is a ton of mental and emotional pain, like heart break,
And other ****,
19 years of loving my family and friends for being there in my desperate times of despair,
And 19 years of not realizing that they were there the whole entire time,
19 years of trying to find my unrealistic and perfect Mr. Darcy,
which of course does not exist, well to my knowledge at least,
19 years of crushes on all the wrong guys,
And 19 years of never acknowledging the prime and proper ones who were gonna treat me right,
19 years of having to schoolwork, and now in college its more work then I have ever imagined,
And sometimes I just break down and cry because the stress of it all is depleting me of all my energy and time,
19 years of not knowing how to function around certain people, like at all sometimes,
And 19 years of having some of the greatest friends in the world to go out with on random nights to smoke hookah,
19 years of happy days,
And 19 years of having your heart ripped out of your chest and beaten on the side of the road until it can barely beat anymore,
19 years of having sucky days that make you want to jump off a cliff and **** yourself, or anybody at all really,
Like the first person you wake up in the morning and dares speak to you,
19 years of feeling tired, like every day,
19 years of eating delicious junk food, drinking water, laughing so hard I can't even breath, spilling coffee, talking so fast I forget what I am even saying and slipping up on everything.
19 years of foul plays and just really bad mistakes that you thought were gonna turn out good, but hit you really hard in the face,
So 19 birthdays to celebrate all these crazy and silly happenings that make me wanna go insane,
But I'm not so sure where I be without it all, without
Mateuš Conrad Dec 2016
i'm just bored of seeing MMXV everytime i switch
on the television, with the end credits...
i actually get indigestion...
i live in a country famed by
pedophiles rather than Liberace...
politzen-mann! politzen-mann!
homosexuality was one step forward,
and subsequently two steps back...
where are the women?
    where are the women?!
where are the women to sort this
problem out with what the Thai boys
sell: me sucky-sucky tug dollar, un' *****'s
       hour.
where's the rebellion?
               the b.b.c. became bankrupt
once the Savile affair dawned...
             even Ed Gein had more mourners
at his grave... to be honest
Ed had a grave to be desecrated...
   Jimbo? they finally decided to bury
him under a pebble... and them phoom!
mt. everest.
    but as sure as hell he made the b.b.c.
bankrupt... i'm surprised that
strictly come dancing isn't credited with
the same year as most of the b.b.c.
programmes are these days... em em ex viva forever
                as Churchill holding up the v away from
the mouth, not insinuating gulping down an oyster.
  πютр (pyootr) - who else if not peter fuchs?
alles neu - all new, central Berlin...
   achtung achtung! die zentrale figürchen tanzen!
i'll write sluttish german,
     panzer und gargantuan truce...
          i'll write it...
                     truce: in german that's chemically
worded, hydrocarbonated: waffenstillstand...
   armistice, or army standing still.
                     Gertrude Goebbels...
   don't know, just felt like saying it.
                           Brüch and snatching schnitzels...
marvelous nouns... Hindenburg...
     Bismarck -                          pretzel -
                                   schwarz wald -
now the geese... now the strutting Gucci invoked
geese... shadow defence minister?
    that monty python guy from the ministry of
      heigel siegel play-girl partly-a-girl. party-girl
with a fetish for those well-polished leather boots
that would have agreed to kicking
                              in the teeth of Lorca...
            at least we have common ground...
    or at least we had...
                        anyone remember watching
cbeebies coming back from primary school?
           anyone remember blue peter?
       there's no reason to claim that the whole
scene went underground / onto the internet...
                                      television these days is on
a life-support machine... consisting mainly of pensioners...
   and even they decided to tune-out
playing ultra-imaginative chess while watching
a brick wall...
                      20+ years in England
and i never had an english girlfriend...
                 Savile is no surprise to me...
                            what's more of a surprise is the fact
that once the b.b.c. started to become bankrupt
                        the n.h.s. followed suite -
i can't believe i live in a country that's famous
for siberian tea (adding milk to it) and pedohpilia...
and restrictive Soho...
                                  if i get sexually frustrated i'll just:
i am probably one of the few remains of
               buying ******* in a newsagent...
and the counter argument is?
         a citation from black swan -
but there really isn't an intellectual debate in this realm...
      and there should be one...
        but i guess the debate is harder to handle
when you've been circumcised...
                   i just think that once you've been circumcised
of course *** is more pleasurable...
              but once you've been circumcised you
are donning the opposite ***'s *******...
it's like: you have to be with a woman...
                   because having a **** while being
circumcised is the lowest ebb...
                   auto-suggestive of?
              i "circumcise" myself every time i ****...
i pull it back...                  but this religious indoctrination
    of only revealing positives?
                  turns out the kippah was a metaphor for
the lost "excess" skin... later replicated
by Christianity with the tonsure of monks -
     there's not a third way... Islam is not as close-knit
as these two religions... it's just a ******* annoying brat.
JLB Jan 2012
I’ve been waking up early lately Not intentionally, though the days do seem longer  It makes me wonder what my body is scheming It has plans for me of which I am unaware I wish I knew them Then maybe I wouldn’t get up so reluctantly, guzzle black coffee, and sit here while some arbitrary words unfold in my mind The usual  I feel the urge to record them It’s like psychological regurgitation, this typing  I suppose it’s cathartic Worthless probably, otherwise  But it’s the only thing other than running and smoking  which keeps me sane I’m addicted to dopamine and now I’m down my usual quota because my *** life is at a standstill Maybe that’s why I’m up so early          ****.   I feel psychotic at times like this I know I’m not but my observations of others’ behavior tells me otherwise They’re happy, or at least seemingly so Or, at least they have the nerve to ***** about how sucky their life is out loud for everyone to hear Which isn’t getting them anywhere I, on the other hand just sit here quietly and write about it Which isn’t getting me anywhere either so why the **** am I waking up so early, I mean         ****.  
At least let me sleep in.
IT’S HARD.
IT REALLY IS AND SOMETIMES LIFE IS JUST ******* CONFUSING AND IT’S A HELL OF A ROLLER COASTER RIDE…
BUT THEN YOU HAVE MOMENTS THAT JUST BLOW YOU AWAY…
AND YOU FORGET ALL THAT ****…
IT’S STILL THERE BUT IT GETS A LITTLE BETTER. I DON’T KNOW…
TIME IS THE KEY.
TIME IS THE SUCKY PART.
BUT IT’S ALSO THE BEST PART.
CAUSE WE ALL HAVE SO MUCH TIME. TIME TO DO ANYTHING.
TO GO TO LONDON,
TO CRY,
TO WORRY,
TO LEARN HOW TO KAYAK,
TO READ THOUSANDS OF BOOKS,
TO DANCE THE NIGHT AWAY,
TO STRETCH, TO SMILE,
TO CUDDLE,
TO BE CONFUSED,
TO READ TEXT MESSAGES LIKE THIS ONE.
WE HAVE SO MUCH TIME AND YOU’RE RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF IT.
YOU MAKE YOUR LIFE WHAT IT IS, NO ONE ELSE DOES.
YOU’RE AMAZING.
AND BEAUTIFUL.
AND YOU ARE WHO YOU ARE.
Ete Sep 2011
The majority of humanity thinks and believes that the mind-body is the whole being.

The majority of people today are stuck in dreams,
in characters.



Ever since it has become clear to me that i am not this body-mind,
i can do absolutely nothing this whole lifetime and still have so much fun peacefully observing every-single-thing.

And from the very moment of realization,
aside from learning as much as possible from this body and this world,
the wanting to share this experience has been tremendously irresistible.

Life and this entire world is so nice and beautiful and fun,
but it is all temporal,
it is not for ever,
it does not last for ever.

It is absolutely clear enough to see that every-thing that lives, dies.

My question then is:

Why are we so attached to the things of this world,
and why are we taking it all so serious?

It is the goal of Life for every-one to come to experience the Truth

A life-time is enough to touch people.

In this life-time,
threw Esteban,
i can demonstrate to others how life should be according to human nature.

But threw Esteban,
only a few years will be available.

Hence in these few years,
not a day will go by in which i am not following the heart,
and the Way of nature and Life.

It is threw my enjoyment of life,
threw my exploration of life,
that my true message is revealed.

I have thought about writing books;
but there is already so many books,
each expressing truth in different and unique ways..

Jesus was killed because he wouldn't stop expressing his truth.

And ever since the time of Jesus,
there have been so many books,
so many great books,
inspiring humanity to wake up.

So wether i write just another book on Truth or not,
it is the book of my whole life that will leave a mark on eternity;
not just a few truthful words,
but a whole truthful life.

And the funny thing is,
that it is such a simple thing to do..

It simply requires that one lets go of the image that has been created in the mind about who you think you are.

In other words,
the ego.

And not only who you think you are,
but also of who you want to be,
who you are struggling to be.

And that can be a hard thing for some people,
because they have been working ******* this image.

But this individuality,
this believe that you are separate from existence,
has to dissolve.

Because the whole effort to be famous and known in the world is only satisfying the ego.

The satisfaction is of your own mind,
and it comes when you can repeatedly tell your-self:
I am this. I have done this. I have achieved this. Look at who i am. Look at what i have done!

It is a silly idea that one has to let go of,
because truth is,
that we are not separate from the universe,
we are not divided from nature and existence.

The ego wants Life to be according to its own made up plan..

Forgetting that the whole evolution of Life and consciousness has been in it's process way before humans were created.

Therefor,
separating one's self from the whole of existence is a very silly thing to do.

Because every-thing that exists,
every-thing that lives,
is all working together,
as One,
according to Nature,
in accordance to the flow of Life.

Clearly enough,
all sufferings and all negativity,
arise when this separate image appears,
and tries to create its own personal way of life.

This imaginary identity desperately demands from life and says :
"Ok no! Why are things like this? Why are they not like this??"

In its own personal ignorance,
it asks for the impossible.

Ego is greedy.

It wants to be the owner of things,
it wants to be in control of everything.

It wants to control the weather..

If it is raining,
ego complains:
"****, why is it raining??"

If you have a girlfriend/ boyfriend,
ego wants to be in control,
bringing onto you,
self created conflicts by wanting things that can not be,
that can not happen.

One needs to understand how things truly are and begin to accept their reality.

Accept the things that we can control and the things we can not control.

The things that we are responsible for and the things we are not responsible for.

You are responsible for your life,
I am responsible for my life,
We are responsible for our lives,
and that is all.

As i see it,
life is a deep study of ourselves.

A challenging opportunity to analyze the things in us that have to be fixed,
that have to be balanced.

We can not keep going with life unconscious about our un-balances,
habits,
addictions.

We have to work on the things that are not right in us.

And even though we all have different un-balances,
in the end it comes down to knowing who we are.

When i say "we",
i am not talking about the mind-body organism;
When i say "we",
i am talking about the awareness.

So when i say "we",
i am referring NOT to the one who is talking right now using words, symbols, sounds, and language,
but to the silence from which all sounds come out of and eventually return to.

That silence i refer to as awareness.

It has no shape or form.

Awareness is formless.

And once we start to see that we are that which has no form,
we can then dis-identify from that which consists of form,
and this brings total freedom.

It means freedom from the things that come and go,
freedom from all that is temporal.

One begins to enter the realm of eternity.

One begins to understand how we are eternity itself.

What is the eternal?

The eternal is that which IS without any form.

And as it is clearly seen,
everything that has form at one point turns into no-form.

What ever has a form will eventually dissolve into no-form.

What is that inside of the form that allows the form to move?

What is it that gives life to the form?

The form disappears,
but that invisible force of energy always remains.

As far as my understanding goes as of now:

Just as we are not the creators,
the designers,
of our whole body,
we do not bind our-selves to the body either,
that is a job of God.

It is God who designed the body,
we are just the awareness.

And the awareness is everywhere,
in every-thing.

But as the awareness,
right now we are experiencing ourselves threw the human body,
and in the capacity of this human experience,
we are able to know our true selfs,
coming closer to God than ever before.

And the human life-form is the only life-form that can go so far in this understanding.

All other life-forms are incapable of this understanding.

The very same awareness that we are,
that is also in plants and animals,
can not have the same experience that the human body allows.

And that is all part of the goal of life and evolution.

That is the journey of consciousness,
to come to this point of being a human,
and here by,
totally allowing the understanding of who we are.


Now this can not be understood by the mind,
hence one must go beyond mind.

Because the mind is part of the body.

It is not the whole.

By my own understanding:

We can not rely on the mind.
We can not believe the mind.
We can not believe our thoughts.
We can not believe the thoughts of others.

We can not believe in believes because believe is not truth.

Wether one believes or does not believe,
truth remains truth.

The mind is an amazing tool,
provided by the human body,
to help and serve the human being;
To  learn from the past,
and to plan for the future.

But we can not count on the mind to tell us what is true,
because mind is a huge storage room,
it is all memory;
Mind is like a computer full of data with so much information,
so much knowledge.

So much that the whole history of humanity is there.

But it is impossible to see ourselves threw the mind,
for the simple reason that WE can see the mind.

WE are aware of the mind.
WE are aware of thoughts.
WE see all images that happen in our head.

When we are thinking,
we are NOT the thinker.

This is where things went wrong.

When we started to believe that we are the thinker.

We started thinking so much,
that at some point,
not even realizing it,
we started to think and then believe,
that we are the thinker.

And this is the mind-trap that drowns us into confusions.


If your heart is speaking to you,
if something from within is pulling you,
it is going to happen.

If you are in the world,
and something does not feel right,
as if something is missing,
as if you are incomplete in some way,
and something has to be attained,
found,
you are going to find it,
as long as you stick with your feelings.

And even though it is a sucky situation,
even though it is not a totally peaceful struggle to figure out what is true and what is not true,
it will be impossible to run away from it,
because it will continue to haunt you.

It is always going to be there,
pulling you,
pulling you,
pulling you.

If you are feeling pulled into something great,
out of this world,
my advice,
is that you follow your feelings.

Forget all about this world.

Do not be concerned with what other people tell you.

Discover life on your own.

Discover truth for yourself.

Learn what you can from people.

Listen to people,
but do not believe people.

Flow with life,
and where ever you are,
be there as the observer.


If you are with people,
just watch people.

If you are by yourself,
just watch yourself.

Keep following your feelings.
Ma Cherie Oct 2016
Wait, hold on,
what'd you just say?
hold on a sec,
I don't think I heard you,
& anyway
can you repeat that again?
say,
AGAIN my "friend"?
saaaay what!?

You cannot be serious.
Not cool,
I got your "number "

Let me dig the wax out of my ears,
If I think I heard that correctly,
well,
perhaps you better tell
& retell
me just ...one ...more ...time,
paaaleeease, be real
are you.... for REAL?

Ummm no,
don't know how to break this to you
but ain't gonna happen,
maybe you just need to speak up,
am I,
going deaf?
Are you???
I need to write this **** down,
so I can,

BELIEVE it & then I can,
retrieve it,
Not OK, EVER,
Not gonna happen, not NEVER
& it shouldn't either,

If I wanted someone I would let 'em know
No it ain't no kinda striptease girly show
& boy you just gotta go,

My right hand has an really bad itch
& my left eye has a really bad twitch
it ain't I'm a fool
& I ain't no really bad *****
I could be if I'm forced
I could be a REALLY bad witch

Me, cast a spell?
Why I'll never, ever tell,
Hey what's that smell?
Your just ROTTEN
to the core I said I before
soon you'll be forgotten,

I might be right handed,
but the left one demanded,

& right here's a door,
but my left is unlucky
itching is just very, very sucky
no it isn't just ducky,
way way more than simply
ucky yucky
****

A sticky icky sitch,
Grandmother told me
watch the signs
as they will remind,
& I wish she could just hold me
&  if she could just scold me
I'm just very glad she told me
& told me,

You speak of being "professional"
& I most definitely am,
my field of work requires it,
so does life, love & everything valuable,
like poetry,

Except you're not laughing
I'm not either,
no, no, no, not funny
at ALL,
my name isn't "Charlita" either,
you musta gotta a lotta nerve,
boy, you
must got a huge set
of *****
act like a filthy bull
hung like a proverbial horse
( cuz I hear your not )
& of course, of course,
of course,
I hope you like 'em too,
cuz you're gonna maybe need 'em

Cuz' you have ZERO respect for women
for yourself or for others
sorry for how you were raised
musta been a real mother-******
an old used up empty angry trucker
well I ain't no foolish  sucker,

No excuses justify making someone actually fear your crazy & lazy ***,

I ain't no female dog,

I'm a daughter, a Mother
a lovely loving lover,
I gotta couple loving Brothers
I have cousins & a Son,
No I ain't the one,
I'm a Sister, a friend
on whom they all can always depend
and this here voice they will defend,
or give a hand one they gladly lend,
& be with me until the end,
a message of hope to all I send,

So don't look at me that a way
Why don't you hear the words I say
& say & say?
you are such a CREEP,
I don't know at night
I don't know how you ever, ever get good sleep,

A constant loser,
such wicked bad, bad verbal abuser
a drunken, drugged out
& broke-down, low-down,
get outta my town abuser,
in Brooklyn you'd even be worse,
a lowly hooser,
I ain't gonna be your lil' **** poetic muser
perhaps a ride, oh look right here,
here's a waiting empty cruiser,

Thank you dear sweet poet
& betcha didn't even know it,
cuz I didn't get to show it,
take this man right here,
yes him, take him my dear,
a bumpy ride ain't all you gotta fear,

He's the one in the foggy drunken stooper,
I really, really wish,
it was just a silly, silly blooper,
my rugged righteous local Trooper

Saving souls & the defenseless
his job is just so relentless,
imprisonment should not be for all,
so when they get a call
Notta emergency, maybe technically,
still, State Police
-how can I help you?

Especially where I am supposed to feel most comfortable & safe,

Shouldn't feel like your skin is crawling
you don't get to me
you can't,
I'm all done with all the bawling,
but respect & justice
are
for every
ONE of us,

You must love going back to jail
& you're going to have a good long tale
to tell in there so go ahead & share
I really couldn't care, at all
but,
I do,
I couldn't care much more about myself
or about right & wrong
or care any less about you,
what you SEE as fair?

My pen, is poetic justice,
there's a poison in my pen
you should be most terrified
whilst I'll be feelin really ' Zen

Poison darts might be all right for bad animals,
Or ones who just need to be put back into the wild
who act like a completely ignorant adult child,
but you know better than that,
Sometimes I might wanna
put it in a poison apple for someone,
like you,
but no,

I bleed & I bleed,
so go ahead  
& read, read & read
I'm not a tattle,
this is a just a truly poetic need,
just another weary battle,
with theives who believe,
& believe in their unending greed
their very, bad, bad misdeeds
ones we mustn't,
we mustn't trust just words
action SPEAK the

LOUDEST

The Thunder Rolls,

Just write, I hear
behind all the painful memories & fear
that frightened girl in a corner
Everything is heightened,
I tried, I tried to warn her,
like a beautiful storm
but never, ever did I scorn her,

As hearts skip,
hear my battle yip
here's a friendly lil' tip,

She tells how human leopards,
apparently,
don't change their stupid spots
better run she says,
a fire of hell it might be kinda hot,
& an appealing prospect you are most definitely, definitely not,

& Don't worry I'm keeping track
you can act sorta nice at times,
but respect is what you seriously lack
& I'm not taking your targeted attack,

Soooo yeah,
& guess what I got?
Take a stab, go ahead, just give it a shot,
patience she ain't the one I got,
my fired feet are feeling plenty hot,


Just take a wild guess
it ain't a wild hair across my ***,

You got as good a chance at guessing my answer
as understanding my personal boundaries

I have two things actually for you
1 is not a ****** "favor"
or "servicing"
the other is
a real BIG surprise?


ZERO tolerance.

Cherie Nolan
FML this stuff REALLY happens?  apparently.
So he says, just words?!? Not about me only, &
No police involved, yet anyway.
but still! I'm soooo furious,  Excuse curses,
I'm not a witch idk think anyway & metaphors I'm not really like that. Serious subject  & I respect all this is for everyone who loves a woman anywhere ❤
anon Nov 2017
I don’t mean to alarm you
But I am dying
I’ve been dying for awhile
And I hope that when I go
I join the ranks of the greats

Robin Williams
Audrey Hepburn
Robert Frost
George Washington

Names everyone knows
Names I grew up admiring
Aspiring
Wanting
Wishing

Everything tries to be them
And falls flat
Probably because I’m dying
And when you’re dying
You aren’t as great
As you once thought

My jokes will never crack a smile
On the wrinkled
Cavernous face
Of Mr. Robin Williams

My beauty lies inside
Since I lack the seraphic
Elegant
Graceful
Beauty of Audrey Hepburn

My words are mere letters
Where they could be scars
And stars
Like Robert Frost

I lack courage
I lack leadership
Greatness finds victims aside me
Leaving me
Always one step behind
George Washington and his armies

Bet he keeps those armies in his sleevies

I’m dying up here
Just like these sucky jokes

I’m dying here
From school
From work
Anxiety
Grades
And all the like

And I’m dying in here
From loneliness
Ostracization
Failure to complete
Lack of motivation

I’m dying here
Can’t you see
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2015
a man  of my esteem can digest direct violence than witty violence  known as  ridicule / the sorrow grows bigger when the sorrow’s denied  (pearl  jam).

so be it... unless i be irish and my use of english be celtic,
then i trully am raw potato with raw cabbage
with lettuce and raw tomato speaking through my ****...
so be it... i’ll concentrate all the world’s republicanism
on the democracy of england and see england and those it
deems kin to export democracy elsewhere -
reduce old age to dementia rather than wisdom - to be forfeit;
what can i learn from you old man?
fucky fucky sucky sucky retirement is grand?
it took an old man to define the failures of democracy...
it will take a youth to define the failures of republicanism...
one by one... that thing on the cross digesting its kidneys
is in no way the in-between.

each abhores his father, but each returns to his father
for guidance akin to a compass in defining the definition
of what's north from sun, and east from the moon,
so if friendships only provide conversation
as means of exchange, a fox provides more to man
than man unto man...
because it provides the sort of conversation
that prompts thought...
and man without woman converses with thought
rather than the obedience for a continuum
that woman is modelled on...
man's guardian, man's womb without woman
that is thought is what abides to philosophise...
but philosophy is a bad joke in england these days...
hence the convenient safeguard of darwinism
and american politics to simply provide the nodding
for the first oscar of mexican wave build-up of un-originality:
easily philosophise only reading psychiatric
books or logistics of a missing soul with an engaged
logic of 2 + 2, as the english intelligentsia is prone to excuse
when it uses it... why practice psychiatry when
you have not read a single book of philosophy, why, english psychiatry?
Paige Error Nov 2018
My day ******.  Walk down the street and flash smiles at familiar faces.  Deep down though you feel that its nothing.  People walking past, keeping up their appearance, never letting down their guard or letting people know their true self.  No one walks past really caring how your day went, what you are going through, or what is motivating you to keep going.  They walk past flash their fake smiles and keep on with their day because just like your day, their day ****** too.  It seems like we are on a hamster wheel never-ending, continuous, and just draining.  Each day we get on and wear ourselves out, for what?  Searching for answers, seeking purpose, guarding our emotions, and hiding our true selves.  Why can't we just open up?  Why not just let loose and just say whatever, who cares, eff it, because in the end does it really matter?  Do the small talk and the fake smiles really make a difference for other people in our lives? Or are we putting on appearances that are unnecessary and relentless and simply just exhausting? We must make other people's days while our days ****, day in and day out.  We don't need a world full of Oscar the Grouches, but why can't we just try to be real and find true human connection.  The more we seek this, the less happy we all become, so why not just stop acting and start being real, so you can help other people realize that their is possibly a light at the end of their tunnel, just like their could be for you.  Who knows, your sucky day could just be the start of something great, or not...but you won't know until you push through and make it your journey, your adventure, your week, your day, or even just your little moment.  So when you think your life *****, know that issa mood. -ZZ
Mars Arocena Apr 2015
I specifically remember being told that I can’t prosper without picking myself up after failure.
As a four year old incapable of coloring inside the lines I thought they had been talking about the array of scribbles and mismatched shades in my coloring book.
By the time I turned ten I began to think they had meant my first F on the homework assignment I couldn’t make sense of.
Then when I was thirteen and tripped in front of the cute boy in my Algebra class I thought the two could link together hoping I still had a chance,
but at fifteen and chewing on the eraser end of a mechanical pencil despite the orthodontist telling me I’d ruin my braces and the tutor across the desk thumbing through my failed fall exam trying to see where it had all went wrong, I concluded that education was the failure I were to bounce back from.
But I was eighteen and moving into the dorm of a college I had reluctantly listed as my “safe” school because my advisor told me to be safe and safe didn’t seem so bad with my GPA so I told myself I could succeed with a well-paying career.
Years later as a twenty five year old and employed with the third job I swore would work and living in the apartment with broken blinds and stained carpet along with the man that gave me a shiny ring promising forever I could still remember the F on that homework assignment fifteen years ago.
When we got married I was twenty seven and I broke a plate at our wedding when I felt suffocated by the lace white dress that I later decided to trash but not the plate for its “sentimental value” and ability to remind me when we had our first kid to whisper the words of defeat and inevitable glory even though I never fixed the plate nor did I try to and it just sat there and I’m not sure why it sat there but
I was forty one and divorced when I picked it out of a box mentally flashed with the expression on my tutor’s face figuring out where it all went wrong and why I couldn’t figure out where it all went wrong. It was an endless string of questions from “I wonder what wasteland my coloring book is rotting away in” to “what the hell was the cute boy from Algebra’s name” wandering to “why didn’t I ever glue that ******* plate together” and these tears fell that I swear were the shape of question marks.
Later my daughter was eighteen with a 3.9 GPA and at her graduation I saw the man that gave me the shiny ring ignorant to the meaning of forever and I couldn’t tell anyone I only had a year to live but I did tell my daughter I loved her everyday even if it were in my head as the year passed.
I was forty six the day I fainted in my kitchen and there was cheap superglue stuck in my nails and one more discarded piece that would have completed the broken plate that wasn’t so broken anymore even when I felt broken myself and my daughter wasn’t in her “safe” school and the one man I loved was remarried with a step son who tutored kids that failed their exams which made it seem like a beautiful day. It may not look like it, but I did prosper and I did pick myself up after my failures, to the sun I colored purple to my first F to the broken bracket in my braces to my sucky GPA.

However, I did remain unprosperous from this unfinished broken plate. That, itself, strangely remained my biggest failure.

-Mars S.
a story of triumph without glory
Odd Odyssey Poet Dec 2022
On a dark and stormy night,
I was born out of a place without any lights
A nurse and doctor looked at me less
More than they'd expect a child to fix a world—yet being a mess
The clouds were heavy, heaven was empty
And I tricked myself that it was because the Lord had sent me
An angel was with me, but still with a devil within me
Question of sin by a seed, growing like a black willow tree
I was born a writer; with no right to be inspiring
In spite of things, my desire is to speak all the right things

To say you'd stack your success in columns
Sort of feels common; knowledge to mind
All your steps, like you have mind powers
Less successful in the things I did, all uneventful
Quite dreadful, of a sucky life with a hint of menthol
These opinions put over my head all affect my mental
Deep pressed, feeling the pressures of always being depressed
So hard to wear your heart on sleeves, when you wear a vest

With this self opposition, and man's superiority competition
Sometimes forgetting you're Christian, and it's composition
With all the respect for all our women, their first time christen
And with the guidance of someone else's wisdom
To avoid all those mistakes, and repetition

Who else do I need to show respect, for respect back
For being young comes with baggage your adult self will
have to unpack. Getting kicked in your past,
For wanting to kickback and relax;
As you've never completed a difficult task
That an adult never had the time to ask or surpass

That was my childhood, putting me in a foul mood
And life's birds of prey looked at me as child food
Still growing in a pretty beating moment, and it empowers
Because I wouldn't be me without reminiscing on my
hearts and flowers.
KarissaRawr Aug 2011
Had another sucky summer start school the day after tomorrow I know they're gonna hate me and a few people will go talk trash about me but I don't care I'm going to be true to myself and whoever can accept that I'll be their friend and yes I'm emotional and weird part of it is I have reasons to be and part of it is thats just me well here's my song/poem:
I'm dreaming a waking nightmare but I'm here to have fun haters and fans alike let's just hold on you have three choices give in and conform to the norm, become violent to yourself or embrace who you are and let out your inner star and let the mainstream believe what they please we all fall down on hard times let your rock and roll heart pick you up why hurt yourself anymore that's just making the negative labels seem true if your goth dress in the black but don't let hurtful words hold you back and lay in a coffin of suicide for those dumb prudes they don't get how you feel don't let them end your life fight for what you think is right and when your personal problems get you down on the ground and the pills are in hand scream the words you feel don't pop them trust me I've been there I've overdosed I've lost the ones I love I'm judged I'm just like you I get that no one gets it but I'm ready to hold on hell this isn't my final song we all have rockability don't be silly we're all loved,hated,judged and broken hearted whether your callled scary,deadly,weird or mentally ******* remember your not alone and don't you dare change remember you have me and many more who understand I know I know I'm just a kid on your computer screen but there's an obvious connection authority thinks they can change and conform you don't cry if they make you change clothes we all know how that goes know regardless what they make you wear or wash out of your hair you still know who you are and rock yourself even without those awesome threads when you have the choice dress the best as you let them make fun of you for your differences but don't look blatantly bad brush your hair and smell the best being teased for that hurts but it doesn't hurt to dress and be who you please in all the other ways be rad be crazy let go sometimes laugh at yourself don't always be lazy accept the unaccepted and do the unexpected never give in to the mainstream again and remember no one's a poser and even if you can't win your not a loser let the deaf kid listen to music if he wants just because he can't hear it doesn't mean he can't feel it in his heart your only what you answer to and just laugh in the haters,bullies,bosses and teachers face who think they're words can effect you you know what to do they just don't understand who you are and how you feel but be proud your completely real let your rock and roll heart pick you up even though thats tough or if you prefer post *******,thrash metal or more believe in that and feel those words no matter who calls them absurd or what nerd trying to go along with the herd gives a diar complaint remember that kids no saint and shrug your shoulders even if they're older you have to be bolder let your rock and roll heart pick you up and guide you show your pride and let the world think as they please your not alone if your friends have to be online so be that atleast their true to themselves if you have to hang with the ******* the bus with seizures don't roll your eyes you don't know what its like to be her let your rock and roll heart shout out your special! Rawr!Rock and Roll Heart
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2017
the greeks worried about the word (λoγoς) -
come what may, but they did add
to their alphabet excess psyche distinctions...
ψικη? or πσικη?
              what i'm talking about is how
φoνoς emerged...
              the etymological origin of
tinnitus? tiny ear?
     i seem to have forgotten why i even bother
to use the dictionary these days:
well... mostly for etymological requirements...
on the spectrum of using language (god)
i put as much effort in the etymological
spectrum of events, as a physicist might
put into the pin-point of the big bang,
or a physician might put into a sore thumb
or a decaying tooth...
    what helped me to move away from the greek
conceptualisation of the λoγoς?
   their polytheism... they had too many words
and could not fathom a singleton
  of their polytheism, that could be equated
to will... or what became adapted by
darwinism's survival mechanisms / dynamos.
but i didn't arrive at the concept of
    φoνoς from λoγoς directly, by some "safe" route,
or a shortcut...    only via γνoσις (gnosis)...
     i read the arts, and i know they're not that
popular, and will seem rather quirky, or just
plain out-right weird...
            but they're there...
but so the "trinity"
                father λoγoς,
                                 son γνoσις
                                              the other, φoνoς.
it would help to mention that see the english language
as naked, given the diacritical attires of other
nations and the remnants of the latin optic of
encoded sound...
                i am also bound to say:
akin to sigma (Σ, σ, ς)... couldn't epsilon
   nibble at eta (H) and join ranks with it, on the aesthetic
premise that you'd end encoding words, such
      as plate (cermic) according to the aesthetic rule:
  Ε, ε, η?
                         only when greeks made too many
sharpened flint-spears of their alphabet do i see the picture
clearly: with the english having adopted no
                   φoνoς principles?
     well, i'm not into charlatan gnosis as such...
   i just "conjure" (speak) the word diagnosis and i know
that a gamma is said... i don't wish for the vogue
   of current times, e.g. (g)nome.
   what i am interested more (it probably won't shock
you and you will join me in the awe):
    the moon doesn't appear in the night sky every
single night like the sun might by day...
   i'm interested in the substance on the moon
  that acts like a mirror...
     sometimes the red moon, sometimes the canary
freckled biscuit...
         and at it's height platinum-white...
                             (tool really do a better version
of led zeppelin's no quarter... just saying)
but there must be a mirror like substance contained
in the geological construct of the moon that
acts like a mirror for the sun, you really can see
the dawn and dusk on the moon's surface...
look long enough straight into the sun and you
see ultra-violet vibrations... akin to the skeleton
of the moon at its zenith during the night;
but surely there is something very particular
in the geological spectrum that allows the moon's
surface to refraction... i hope i used the correct
word on this occassion..
  but as with the modulation of the greek original
(given the diacritical excesses imposed on it
   and the lack of it in english), i could extract
   a meaningful counter: the tetragrammaton...
or what's in english intended as aH           and Ha:
the gemini phonos of sighs and laughter...
   by basically invoking the sigma rule to eh?
    Σ, σ, ς /  Ε, ε, η                       : meaning the lower-case
eta is a shorter version of epsilon...
and like the aesthetic of the trinity of "satan" that's
sigma, it could mean shortening the greek alphabet
by 1... so from 24 letters (as if coincidental to hours
in a day), to 23 letters...
                      and i'm not even greek to propose
a justification for this revision.
                      but this also means why i couldn't
find the phonos equivalent to Y...
                         or why J is confrontational in the other
instance of latin...
                          Υγ                      or oog
so poot not pout or pulling rather than pool;
              i suppose there is not Y in greek as there is
in latin is the **** of ι (iota, as thus stated, with a . hovering
over it like a halo or a decapitated head;
the hideous "dance" of shiva and kali:
well "dance"... *******! fucky-fucky sucky-sucky)
           as such iota dominates what the greeks stress
in their primordial phonos... F (in latin terms)...
just F...             i once heard of the three Fs in greek:
  which wasn't true... someone thought
  it would be neat to add ψ (psi)
   to the coordinates of that might represent
   something akin to the origin of the man who'd see
this mistake θ, φ, ψ;
       psi is the odd one out: hence theology, philosophy...
and that annoying "darling" that's psychology;
as a logic that attempts to fathom the soul as a totality
of imaginable freedom, it seems very totalitarian in
its approach... it's practically a zoology to be honest...
cages... ego here, superego there, id over here...
                i really think that psychology has nothing
worthwhile to add at this moment in time...
                 not when on the other side of the argument
there is no soul, but presicely the counter-argument
         in all the ridiculousness of implanting a soul into
a ***** (white tadpole) and calling it a frog...
       i haven't seen a ribbit ever come from a tadpole...
like i never heard a thought enter a *****...
     it turns out to be bizarre, but then women dictate
the rule of thumb on the argument...
                               which is why the intellectual
development of people who argue that a ***** has a
soul (early foetal stages) begs the question:
        can that thing utter a sentence let alone take to
thinking? no... it's only a potential,
                           at best prescribed the symbol Λ
(in electricity denoted by V)...
                                        oh so many what ifs that come
with that... it's almost like ****** someone
to provide child alimony...
    and it sounds like that precisely...
prostitutes at least cream themselves up before having
*******...
      rapists from south africa?
                        they prefer to spike you with ******
and saddle on top of you with a dry *****...
                                god, the ****** disparity...
    one know and lubricate before *******, the supposed
"smart" girls who teach in boarding schools
                       have no idea what it's like ******* a dry ****;
i'd rather fist my **** any day of the week.
Glenn Currier May 2021
Why do I trip and fall into shame so easily?
I wonder if there is something in me that says:
“Feel ashamed and you will be better.”
But focusing on my limitations and failures
shouldn’t be such a regular habit.
They say that there’s two kinds of shame:
healthy and toxic.
But both of them feel sucky.
It’s healthy to realize I’m not God
and to accept my limitations
Toxic is staying stuck
in that hopelessly defective thought.
This stuckness has a thick cloud of darkness
surrounding it – gripping me.
I guess what people call faith is knowing
there’s always light outside and inside me
if I but look for it
believe in it.
Jake muler Dec 2015
Trying to pass the time doing positive stuff. But the world don't got much positiveness in it no more. Just got to forget the world, the world *****
Keira clifton May 2020
my handsome boy
with eyes of honey.
i love you more than the sucky loves the stars.
my handsome boy
with a heart of gold.
your hands are my favorite things to hold.
my handsome boy
with a smile of ecstasy.
you make me warm inside, you make feel as if i no longer have to hide.
my handsome boy
with a body of perfection.
you show me so much affection, make me feel so loved.
i will forever love you my handsome boy.
zebra Dec 2016
she does the bonga bonga
knife dance
hips sway like tornado winds
she does the come **** me
***** *****
shakea shakea
kiss my ***
dancy dance

out comes the blade
cutter cutter
hurta hurta
shimmie shimmie
cuma cuma
ooow it burns
she eats her own ****** cake

while
video recorded on her i phone
for the world to love her
in the age of net works
sit on my face book
**** book
*** book
***** ***** instagram
pin her on pinterest
google her googie
twitter her ****
virtual sucky fucky

better use your own hand
if you want feel o rama
water water everywhere
and not drop to drink
My poems remain explorations of the subconscious ******
If i where a film maker or a novelist  you  would see me telling a story not judge me  although i admit to my paraphilias  
These poems  are lunar anamorphic streams of consciousness from the deep chaotic subterranean glitz of transgressive  impulses we all share
Read them if you dare...You might find that part of yourself that you don't want you to know about
Michael-Angelo Sep 2016
There is not much to say about me, I'm very simple and easy going, more than a personality thing is a choice of life. I think the key to life's happiness is simplicity. I'm a rebel and love is the only force that bends me, time after time. I do not tolerate injustices, superficialities, bureaucracies, social inequalities, or organized religion, but I do believe in God. I write, mostly poetry, I attempt to give meaning to life through words.
Some of the things that I like, in no particular order. . . Watch the sunrise, the rain through a window, the glow of the skin when touched by the sun, philosophize with crazies like myself, laugh attacks, have an ice cream as I take a walk, silence (mostly when I have someone to think about), a complicity smile, the mischievous eyes of children =), fall asleep while reading a book, learning how to live with my mistakes, winning a poker game with a really sucky hand, the happiness to see again someone I love, nights where you sing until the sunrises, the tears that fall after laughing super hard, to deepen my toes in the sand, to swim at the beach, dry up in the sun, bohemian nights and red wine, ring neighbor door bells and run for life, the smell of bread in the oven, the land where I was born, the cold weather, much better if I can hug someone I love, playing my guitar, touch my books and remember their content, a good boxing match, to close my eyes and let my fingers run down my piano keys, to sing while I drive, to cook for those I love, passionate people, poets, fighters, and every day the list of things I love grows. . . =)
Pedro Garcia May 2016
Tonight the very notion that steals my mental devotion, is that chance play a motion in that commotion concerning whether one receives a demotion or a promotion
To be lucky or  unlucky! It must feel a little yucky, perhaps a bit sucky, that your ability to forsee outcomes is a tad mucky
You might play your hand and find your decision be grand, or life may demand that you be reprimand, where things may not go as planned as you receive a backhand
Hell you may just strike gold, where you luck begins to unfold, where your wealth was withhold, it may just so happen you behold your gold increase eightfold!
People like to be upset due to all the others they've met who don't seem to sweat and carry no debt, people who fret thinking they deserve a corvette or a big shiny jet that they'll get when they win the grand luck roulette.
Still I think that it shows that even if life blows, when the sky fills with crows and your luck seems to have froze, luck is just a fact of life that nobody knows
With the good comes the bad, with the happy the sad, with the boring the rad, that luck is quite a fad
Just know that whether you're hung out to dry or live in Versailles, whether you hit the bulls-eye or things go awry, have everything money can buy or just barely scrape by, you just can't deny your life is at the mercy of life's invisible die
This is actually really tacky but I'm experimenting.
sked Aug 2013
I'm tired of you looking at me like that
Like you've got some superior knowledge
That I don't know nor understand

You come to me and tell me
You don't want to live anymore
That life is too much for you
That it's so so so unbearable
That you feel smothered
Choked
Suffocated
And because of that you can't live anymore

So
Because you know and can easily see
How bad the world is
You want to go home
And do yourself in
That because you feel
That your life has been so miserable
Compared to the others

I have some bad news for you
If you take your own life
You're cheating

How is it fair that you
Are able to do yourself in
While having all of the rest of us
Live out lives that are fit to be miserable
Your not the only one living in misery

All the rest of us have sucky lives
We have a void that can't be filled
And because your void is so much more
Important than the rest of ours
You have to blow your brains out

You cheater
We feel all this misery
This lack of fulfillment
And we don't blow our brains out
We don't say well can't have that guess that's it

And you probably expect me
To comfort you
To tell you that everything is
Going to get better
Well guess what
It isn't
That void is always going to be there
And you are never going to be able to fill it

So you're probably wondering what to do now
Deal with it
Because everybody in the world has a void
That will never be fulfilled
And everyone else living in the world
Deals with it
So you just need to
Deal with it
I hope you get better
And come to terms
With that soon
Aolani Gartman Apr 2014
It's 11:11
I wish for you
I wish for happiness
I wish for your arms
I also wish for you to love me
You to kiss me
You to fall asleep next to me
I wish I could return your compliments
Return the love
I wish you knew you deserved better but more than that I wish you'll never leave
I need you yknow
I wish I wasn't this exausted
I wish it wasn't getting sucky again, like before
11:12
andrew levin Mar 2012
lol


pilate


had


it


right !




what


is


truth ?




better than the sucky crap jesus spilled !
for those who don't know jesus never existed historically but pilate did !
the new testament is basically a political document designed to inculcate and justify subservience to and the overlordship of whatever church..........

the gospel of thomas is a better way to read jesus !
You ****.
I ****.
Ducks ****.
Okay, maybe not ducks...

But you,
Me
Him
Her
We...

****

Equally?

Maybe.

But that's not how it seems.

You know about your **** and I know about mine, and we each try to minimize the amount of our **** the other can find,  
without looking too hard,
At what the **** is, after all, we just know about it and keep it in.

But as we all have, I have thought hard and long. about what makes me **** and what I do wrong but the other day a thought came to stop looking at me, and think about other people, who are outwardly un-sucky.  

And I think if we look at one another when we need to look at ourselves,
when we're tossed, and paper thin,

We would each see each other trying really hard.
And we would forgive them,
by looking out-in.

— The End —