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Mateuš Conrad Jul 2017
first memories? my great-grandfather wanted me to play the piano... my grandfather? he expected me to become a hyena of the graveyard; concerning the the former? my piano became a keyboard, or the latter, i was called jesus by a death death girl i tried to put headphones, i was call the tenth of memory of humanity's worth memory... i was called the hunchback angel, i was called the death of death.... i have many names... i crave these associations, once walking in the street i was called death, might i breathe as silently as a shadow in the night?

p'tah p'tah p'tah,
     p'tah p'tah p'tah...
i guess that translates
at p'ah-tay-tinker-toe:
p'tah p'tah p'tah,
p'tah p'tah p'tah, ***** toe.

p'tay p'tay p'tay p'tay,
twinkle twinkle whimper star...
p'tay  p'tay  p'tay
   papa(h) to, tato
             this, my father,
               *to
, tato,
    this, my father...
                              am i so cruel?
father, i wish
to be more cruel than
the question attempts to answer...
the only inhibitions
       i have are merely
   thought biases....
                    let your deeds
        come as you sought deeds
of abel's conversation,
   but let mine, come within the
groundwork of cain's ambitions
(disregarded)....
                  peer into my eyes
                    when i peer into
      the night, wearing sunglasses...
the last and the the lost remnant light...
what of the cradle,
            but of the gained number of
scientific peers....
                  rock-ah-baby-rock...
          who said anything of
allowing an object, the subject of
          questioning a capacity of endurance?
who if not non-synthetic could
ask that question within the cricus-act
of performing a sadistic act?
                    only a non-synthetic creature
could perform a circus act
   of sadistic proportions...
    having no gratifying suggestion what
the symbiosis of life-and-death are...
zombified humanoids, in excess scientific,
      with the death of god,
     comes the birth of the dietitian;
                           the true pathos awakens:
a breath, lost in skin.
Aaron LaLux Sep 2019
Screen Crack [16]

Jesus!

What the fck,
wait, Jesus,  has nothing to do with this,

your hands glued to the latest PDA device,
hands glued along with your eyes,
seems you cling to your PDA  for dear life,
like it’s as important as a TAH, what’s a TAH look it up,

it’s a Total Artificial Heart,
you are the “art” in artificial,
since when did Personal Displays of Affection PDAs,
get replaced with Personal Digital Assistants,

no way phones could be the new PDAs I can’t accept that,
oh well I guess it’s the perfect sign of the times,
people used to show affection & kiss in public,
now they don’t even notice & the only kisses given are emojis,

no romance they don’t even hold hands show love or show up,

would rather ******* in silence than deal with this,
& maybe that makes me part of the problem,
see I could go out & try to socialize but I stay inside instead,
& don’t even mind ‘cause most people aren’t worth the stress,
plus it’s been so long since I’ve been in a relationship,
if I met someone I wouldn’t even know what to say anyways,
we replaced Empathy with Apathy eye contact with iPhones,
now we’re all bored Cyborgs & alienated Androids,

we keep avoiding each other instead of enjoying each other,  we keep assuming we are annoying each other,
which prevents us from successfully joining each other,
so we effectively self isolate ourselves from one another,

one step closer to an Anti-Social New World Order New Age,
every time we become afraid & walk away instead of engage,

would rather scatter than talk to someone,
in a way that could be construed as rude,
so we just walk-on & ignore every single someone,
even though one of those someones is you,

in the Narcissistic Network of this Sociopathic Society,
where the only certainty is that this cycle of denial is ******,
what the fck, totally stuck, mind fckt & ******,
into that lil cancer causing PDA your hot little hands hold,

Steve Jobs got cancer,
you think that’s a random freakin’ coincidence,
people that work with electronic devices their whole lives,
get sick & this is not just a few examples of isolated incidents,

it’s not a rumor that consumers get tumors from electronics,

even Stevie Wonder could see how Stevie Jobs got sick,
died in his mid 50’s alone & in bed thin as a stick,

all those billions couldn’t save him,
so what makes you think you’ll survive,
why should I care how you live if you don’t care how you die,
think you’re saving time on that portable electronic device,
but you’re living a lie wasting your life not saving your time,
because no one ever regrets spending less on screen time,
but people often regret not spending more time,
in nature attention undivided with loved ones by their side,
before they die, going to do you a favor, save you the trouble,
of spending your whole life chasing things on a digital screen,
I’m going to quote Steve Jobs’s last words here,
so you can start making changes now before it’s too late.

“I have come to the pinnacle of success in business.
In the eyes of others, my life has been the symbol of success.
However, apart from work, I have little joy. Finally, my wealth is simply a fact to which I am accustomed.
At this time, lying on the hospital bed & remembering all my life, I realize all the accolades & riches of which I was once so proud, have become insignificant with my imminent death.
In the dark, when I look at the green lights, of the equipment for artificial respiration, feel the buzz of their mechanical sounds, I can feel the breath of my approaching death looming over me.
Only now do I understand that once you accumulate enough money for the rest of your life, you have to pursue objectives that are not related to wealth.
It should be something more important:
For example, stories of love, art, dreams of my childhood.
No, stop pursuing wealth, it can only make a person into a twisted being, just like me.”…

See, now you’ve heard it directly from a genius,
so there you go don’t say I didn’t tell you so,
still you hear the final words of a brilliant billionaire,
& instead if take his advice you say “Who cares?”,

& that is actually a serious question, who cares?

Probably not me or you so why would we heed a warning,
no matter how wise the words were that were wrote,
we’re too busy trying to find fake treasures on Pokemon Go,
or read the latest news or scroll the latest posts,

seems all those Apples & Androids, have made us apathetic,
bit the forbidden fruit, in The Garden of Electronic Eden,
**** streaming has replaced actual ***, it takes less effort,
exchanged intimacy for IoT, replaced *** with EMFs,

no ******* just internet no farmer’s markets on weekdays,
just products on eBay & freebased sympathy that’s synthetic,
so we don’t feel the vibration of our brothers & sisters,
we just feel the vibration of our phones in our pocket,
we don’t notice the signs of our civilization in decline,
we just notice our phone’s notifications when they go off,

see the more connected we become to the virtual world,
the less connected we become to the actual world,

& I’m having a melt down,
witnessing everyone on their cell phones,
& I want to find a reason to believe in a real person to love,
but I feel like hope is gone & we’re all just lost without a home,
& I’m just as guilty as the rest of us,
‘cause I’m often also lost in the zone on my phone like a drone,

& I’m not religious but maybe we really do need Jesus,
maybe I really do need Jesus,
what the fck, wait,
Jesus,  has nothing to do with this,

a whole new generation of users has been created,
through the use of new additions of cell phones & laptops,
& some of the users are as young as 8 years old,
computers are the new & improved evolution of crack rock,
but family’s are so used to their kids using that they just shrug,
even though their kids are so addicted that they can’t stop,

some even enable kid’s addiction by buying them new editions,

cracked screens from dropping your phone,
gives you a minor heart attack,
oh how attractive cancer seems when it’s attractively wrapped,
in the form of an impersonal personalized phone case artifact,

Silver, Gold or Grey, SnapChat is the new black.

What the fck, hands glued to the latest PDA device,
hands glued along with your eyes,
seems you cling to your PDA  for dear life,
like it’s as important as a TAH, what’s a TAH, look it up,

look up look up,
you are alive in a body on these beautiful lands,
mathematically a 1 in 400 trillion chance of being born,
you’re literally the most amazing miracle you could ever have!

There’s a whole world out there,
please find someone to get to know & love,
because there’s probably someone right next to you right now,
that’s willing to give you their all & it’s obvious,

all you have to do to see is set down your phone & look up!
If you’d only just look up!

But, you’re too busy playing Pokemon Go to notice love,

I know, we’re part of a 1st World society,
& we all play our part by being passively compliant,
in order to be an accessory to our country’s atrocities,
so we get dressed up with the latest techno accessories,

I know,
you don’t want to think about it too much,
because then you might feel guilty, so you stay out of touch,
keeping your head down like you’re mourning a lost love,
there’s an actual psychological condition for this,
Cognitive Dissonance is what it’s called,

so you stay on your phone, not wanting to get involved,
because it’s easier to simply not feel,
won’t even make eye contact just want to be left alone,
because you’re conditioned to fear anything that’s real,

insecure & scared of the unknown you cling to your phone,

even though,
it’s the things we’re most comfortable with that usually **** us,
cars cigarettes alcohol cell phones,
I’m telling you addiction to technology is a serious illness,

as we begin to decay into a mediated medicated mental illness.

Do you even remember,
what you did on your phone yesterday,
do you even remember,
what you did with your emotions yesterday,
do you even remember,
when the last time was you felt real emotions,
do you even remember,
the last time you did anything to help the world?

What is there left to believe in when nothing feels right?

Feels like,
we are losing touch with everything that makes us human,
emotions experienced in artistic expressions are leaving,
we have no attention span & cyborg robots do most thinking,

as we steadily slip into an artificial abyss remember this,

I Love You,

& it scares you when I tell you,
like all real emotions scare you,
& then I tell you I want to take that phone you hold,
& throw it into the ocean,
& you finally look up from your phone after all this time,
stare me in the eyes glare & say, “How dare you!”,
like you’re defending your phone,
as if it’s a part of your very existence you were born with,
like you’d hate a fellow animated human,
for destroying an inanimate object, that’s the Devil’s trick,
because when we’ve lost all emotions only hatred lingers,
desperate I’ll take hatred over nothing if that’s all that’s left,

& I’m the biggest hypocrite of all,
because I say all this about technology,
but here I am writing these words on this laptop,
& offering advice but not offering apologies,

maybe I’ll really realize someday,
when someone shakes me & wakes me from my digital daze,
either that or when I’m all alone about to go home in the sky,
on that death bed quoting the last words of Steve Jobs,

“Stop pursuing wealth, it can only make a person into a twisted being, just like me…”,

Wow.

Can you hear me now?

No you probably still don’t hear me,
because you’re likely on your phone reading this right now,

your hands glued to the latest PDA device,
hands glued along with your eyes,
seems you cling to your PDA  for dear life,
like it’s as important as a TAH, what’s a TAH look it up…

∆ LaLux ∆

poem #16 from THHT3: The Hollywood Hills Trilogy 3
available worldwide here: www.amazon.com/dp/B07XJRBSKD
MOTV Aug 2016
insane+im+deranged+it+is+kinda+strange+i+need+the+money+like+ever­y+day+oh+cleshay+got+the+9+now+yippie+yi+yay+in+her+dam+mouth+sto­p+it+*****+save+it+for+the+nose+expose+your+skull+to+the+purest+f­orm+just+say+mc+cay+need+the+cain+like+my+ears+need+Yay+Yeezy+got­+the+beat+in+repeat+my+awareness+of+life+is+phenomenal+taking+out­+Empires+like+a+beast%2C+Holy+One+Son+of+Sons+walking+with+the+Fa­ther+then+we+start+to+run%2C+runnin+game+on+the+world+dominating+­taking+wills.+Feel+the+pain+and+pleasure+at+the+same+time%2C+spit­tin+mad+lines+rolling+in+at+right+times%2C+with+the+blunt+smoikin­g+aces+mind+i+am+curing+like+the+herb+everyday+im+high+what+a+cel­ebration%2C+speaking+to+the+Lord+I+adore+more+than+any+inpiration­%2C+be+aware+that+I+know+what+I+speak%2C+how+can+man+fall+so+far%­2C+but+still+be+brought+up+like+a+Holy+Beast%2C+Lord+of+Armies+ye­s+he+guides+me+mind+is+Divine+among+all+others+they+will+mind+me%­2C+as+im+mining%2C+minning%2C+tah%2C+da%2C+mining%2C+mining%2C+ta­h+dah.&oq;=m+insane+im+deranged+it+is+kinda+strange+i+need+the+money+lik­e+every+day+oh+cleshay+got+the+9+now+yippie+yi+yay+in+her+dam+mou­th+stop+it+*****+save+it+for+the+nose+expose+your+skull+to+the+pu­rest+form+just+says+mc+cay+need+the+cain+like+my+ears+need+Yay+Ye­ezy+got+the+beat+in+repeat+my+awareness+of+life+is+phenomenal+tak­ing+out+Empires+like+a+beast%2C+Holy+One+Son+of+Sons+walking+with­+the+Father+then+we+start+to+run%2C+runnin+game+on+the+world+domi­nating+taking+wills.+Feel+the+pain+and+pleasure+at+the+same+time%­2C+spittin+mad+lines+rolling+in+at+tirght+times%2C+with+the+blunt­+smoiking+aces+mind+i+am+curing+like+the+herb+everyday+im+high+wh­at+a+celebration%2C+speaking+to+the+Lord+I+adore+more+than+any+in­piration%2C+be+aware+that+I+know+what+I+speak%2C+how+can+man+fall­+so+far%2C+but+still+be+brought+up+like+a+Holy+Beast%2C+Lord+of+A­rmies+yes+he+guides+me+mind+is+Divine+among+all+others+they+will+­mind+me%2C+as+im+mining%2C+minning%2C+tah%2C+da%2C+mining%2C+mini­ng%2C+tah+dah.&gs;_l=s
#Chanting, chattering. #Chanting, chattering. #Chanting, chattering. #Chanting, chattering.
Brent Kincaid Jul 2018
It ain’t like ahm a teacher ner nuthin.
Ahm jess a regular person, nothin spayshul
Ah ain’t no docterr of rocket science
Ahm jess a working guy, and kinda playful.
Ah half tah admit, ah do get things wrong
And sometahms ah can make a big mess
But ah do have minny, minny good points
And ahm a rilly good person, irregardless.

But things like writin’ readin’ and
Readin’ writin’ and sech lack that stuff
Ah stopped carin’ ‘bout at twelve
‘Cause ah found it more than kinda tuff.
Ah mean, it ain’t lack ah ain’t never
Gunna need to know reedickaluss stuff lie cat.
Ahm jess gunna graduate and then
Ah’ll go to work with Dad and drahve a bobcat.

Ain’t nobuddy needs algebra for that
Er fer workin’ at the factory line ever day either.
And it sher ain’t like ahm a teacher ner nuthin.
Ahm jess a regular person, nothin spayshul
Ah ain’t no docterr of rocket science
Ahm jess a working guy, and kinda playful.
Ah half tah admit, ah do get things wrong
And sometahms ah can make a big mess
But ah do have minny, minny good points
And ahm a rilly good person, irregardless.

But things like writin’ readin’ and
Grammer and other sech borin’ stuff
Ah stopped carin’ ‘bout at twelve
‘Cause ah found it more than kinda tuff.
Ah mean, it ain’t lack ah ain’t never
Gunna need to know reedickaluss stuff lie cat.
Ahm jess gunna graduate and then
Ah’ll go to work with Dad and drahve a bobcat.

Ain’t nobuddy needs algebra for that
Er fer workin’ on a factory line ever day either.
Ah sherr don’t need it to work digging
Er runnin’ sewer lahns er plummin’ pipes neither.
So, folks can jess give up on tryin’
To turn me into some kinda egghead scholar.
After all, it was good enough for my dad
To go to work, and work hard to earn a dollar.
SøułSurvivør Jun 2015
Le-YAND-de-ska nor E' des ke'

Noor-eil-to-DOE-do keel EH DOOR TE'

Te' oor! Te' OOR! Ma-OOR-de-te'!

Keel-oo-de SKA noor ahn de' TAH- de'

Pooh-EH-nes-yel-ta-do

Ne-EST-TA DE' ?!!!


Le-END-de-SKA noor E'ND de TAH-de


~~~♡< TRANSLATION >♡~~~


I am the Lord Jesus Christ.
I am using this weak vessel to speak.
She is afraid of your
judgement
but more concerned about
doing My Father's will

I LOVE YOU!

DO YOU NOT KNOW THAT?!!!

I LOVE YOU !!!
Though you do not hear

Be still. Listen.
And know that I am
GOD
I'm very much afraid
of course. I'm
SHAKING TO THE
CORE OF MY BEING!!!

But this is my prayer language
and the Lord wanted me to
share this with you.

I both speak and interpret
tounges
I have a great gift, for I
CAN INTERPRET MY OWN

This is from my
HEART SOUL and SPIRIT
Steve D'Beard Jan 2013
I should've guessed
by the nondescript response
teenagers glazed
by 'proper' use of language;
'old-speak' as some would see it
yet to be blessed by a words prowess
fazed by more than 1 syllable
seems inconceivable
and yet text-speak sits,
or rather, should be, languish,
as a hybrid of our languages
prompts me to write this
out of plain literary anguish.

each year on birthdays
write a small poem or limerick
the momentary excitement of opening the card
is lapsed by reason
(it does not contain a £20 note)
the thought bubble denotes
they express some disdain
the speech bubble that follows
the spark in the brain
just another of Uncles gimmicks
lacking the imagination to invoke
something more personal
than a hardback book:
another 200 recipes
for the aspiring young cook

they implied they enjoyed lunchtimes at school
instead wanted an iPad or something
equally expensive and cool

So I try to embrace it
this thing they call urban
write something poetic in text-speak
the very premise of it
is somewhat disturbing
the infinite curve of learning
LOLs from actual LOLS;
the mobile language equivalent
of online voyeurs,
the posters of nonsense,
noobs and trolls

apparently a ROFL
is more-or-less as potent as ****
I scratch my head in wonder
text-speak is used by millions
to converse on a global scale
some how

Q: does SUM exist
(as in 'shut ur mouth' )
is that acceptable?

A: not yet cordially invited on the list
(its an actual word
doesn't count as an acronym)
Im told

the coal face of the lexicon:
indigestible
the steep learning curve:
unpredictable

by your 30s its automatically
re-classified:
Congratulations
You are now officially 'Old'

we are merely wordsmith pedestrians
lost in the tide of text-speak equestrians
jumping and leaping and rolling in SETE and S2R's
are we binned as an S4L, the Spam For Life?
(perhaps I haven't got that abbreviation quite right)

in the context of text-speak
they are suitably troll-like in their essence
forgive me dear teenager
I am but a
SNAG in your presence:

'Sensitive'
(on occasion)
'New
Age' and
'Grown-up'
(given the right persuasion)

the riposte would be SUYF!!
('Shut Up You Fool' - said like MR. T in A-Team)
STM and Spank The Monkey
apologise, SOZ, SRY and Apls
or something equally short,
snappy and funky

at this juncture
before the brain has a puncture
simply BBFN, lest I
BBS or BBIAB or BBIAF
[thankfully this isn't a test]

like WCA
(Who Cares Anyway)
but you'd remark WAI
(and thats I for Idiot)
let out a long distance sigh
wave the imaginary fist
at the youth of yesteryear

all you'd get back was
Wicked Evil Grin
(WEG) for a
Wild *** Guess
(WAG);
a WEG for a WAG
and a PDQ x 2

would be the sum parts of the conversation
between me and you

if language and words and meaning was lost
if acronyms and abbrieviations
in CAPS
was all that there was

*** smeared in ***
with APLS for the PMJI
TXT SPK has got me PML
when MHBFY and
M8s on a MOB crusade
AWOL and dizzy for the next API
MGB for your MF device
throw in some GALGAL logic
where GIGO will simply suffice
Warning: PAW and GJIAGDV
(where the latter is Volcano)
include your GF for some cuddly GBH
and some GHP if she says so

its T2Go
be positive with the T+
and all of that Text-Speak CUZ
I'll T2UL and T for your time,
I'll TAH on the whole TBC

next year i'll just slip in a £20 note
and simply write:
Happy Birthday
with LV
from me
I have a disdain for text-speak as a replacement for language but it seems the only way to converse with teenage cousins on mobile, so I wrote this in response to that.
James Floss Aug 2018
I know some folks
Some new most old
Keeping logs swirling

It’s a balancing act
Lots of plates spinning
Whoops! Stretch right!

***** fall
Plates crash
Notes fall flat

Oh! Look over there!
Thank you, magicians!
TAH-DAH!

Take a bow,
Sis, bro, boom!
You got the room!
Brent Kincaid Jan 2017
Wutsa matter wit you?
Whirr you frumm?
You from summ furren country?
Cain’t you tawk better den at?
Murruhkunz doan tawk Inglush lie cat.
We talk good Inglush. We tawk da bess Inglush.
Ain’t nobody tawk better den us.
Irregardless of whut kine uh furriner you are
You could not tawk so ignernt.
It’s a insult tah good Murrukuhns tawkin lie cat.
You should be imburrst to tawk ataway in public.
Should be ashaymt uh yerself.

Yenno, peepo c’n perject thur ignernce
’N thur lack intelluhgunce so easy.
They jess open up thur mouths
’N let the dumbness fall out
’N thur it is, fer alll to see.
Yude thank they’d realize what dumshits they are
’N not let thur mouths write checks
Thur butts cain’t cover.
But, no. They’s flappin’ thur yaps an babblin’
‘Bout nothin’ at all, ’n actin’ the pure fool
Lack thur mamas din teach them nuthin.
Well, nuthin’ good, at lease.
Me, muhseff, I thank sumbuddy
Shoulda kicked thur butts
From here ta Sundee.

But, thass jess me.
I know thurs a buncha bleedin’ heart libralls out thur
That wanna let peepo get by with crap jess ‘cause
Sumbuddy is a Niger er ‘cause they’s Messcun
Er sum kinda ******* heathen er ‘sump’n,
But I thank thass jess wrong.
Peepo gotta talk good jess to respeck the flag
’N God n’ country. Or go home.
Yeah, go on back to whatever Godless place
You ’n your race ’n yer ideas is okay.
We rilly doan need ‘em here.
We’s good, God fearing’ peepo and hard working too.
So, if that ain’t you, *** on yer camel ’n ride
Back tah whurever you cumm frumm
Till you c’n tawk good Iinglush lack decent fokes.
Orakhal Nov 2020
av woond -  vwash maya

neeth - kh ya dash - shhma kh

t yeh t yeh - mal koo tha kh-

neh kh wayt- zeve yan akh-

ay khannad - vwash maya -
aph var ha


hawv lan - lakh mad -
sun kh yanan - ya omana

vwash vo khlan - khau v yen -
wah kh tah kh yen -
ay khana - daph kh nan -
shh vwo kh yan - l
- kha  av yen -

wela - tah lan -  l nee s yuna

ela - patzan - min - bisha

metol - dila khe - mal khu  tha -
wah hala - watesh vukh tah -

lah lam
al min
am yen
we  love to embody languages of all kind
as feeling and resonance

we hold vibration of love at the chest
as we engage any vibrational conversation thru  word and sound

the prayer we announce here sounds beautiful as you flow air and sound and its serious fun to learn
and also has a very powerful
sphere charge effect on being

we write phonetically
for ease of say
the dashes state the end and beginning of a word

shine brightly and in joy


breath tones
speak breathy to air effect

kha khe khi kho khu
tha the thi tho thu
shhh
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2017
what can't become anything like a theatre,
yet faces and masks fly off the shelves
in market stall, none are given the gravitas
of thought, instead: turkey-feeding
reverse bulimia, the sith and jedis?
      i can create a string of oaths to suggest
that it's happening,
   a grand masquerade of "concerns"...
      they call them the inverted commas...
what, like the spanish inverted question mark ¿?
jinnie out of the bottle sort of ****?
                   when did " become an inversion
of '?
                  that time i did the only thing possible
and dragged it down to the plateau of sentence
and paragraph like a prometheus?
         what could possibly be inverted about
the ditto?
              i guess you have to say that, given
shortenings, and all that glutton english,
don't ****'stani me this ******* back!
         the idea of an inverted comma is already
in use, and it's up, not down, as is:
    i wouldn't care as much if i didn't have an
education in chemistry: and didn't become pedantic
about certain things.
   the ditto enclosure: " " = ~ / ≈...
                             and that translates into:
well... if you want ambiguity of certain words:
read a book on existentialism rather than a harry potter
instalment; movies? great great,
      books? i'd sooner be dead than read
on of them.
                 i was just watching this
julian assange interview and couldn't help but see
a constantly implosive dualism,
    we got rid of the church-state,
   we inherited the military-industrial complex,
    and only americans have a justifiable concept
of nationalism, or so it would seem,
given they don't feel threatened by russia's ideologue
or that of china's; which really helps if you have
a puppet-state...
        back in napoleonic times they had satellite states,
now they have puppets...
    napoleon liberated poland and created the duchy
of warsaw, america has israel and the soviets
once had cuba...
                         but are any of the "axis" puppet-states
even recognisable? israel is blatant with connections
to america, they're practically nudist about it,
if i ever need to look at a glass window, i'd look
at that relationship...
   oh pick my sweet cherry blossom while you're at it,
i'll find the next plastic surgeon to remove my
protruding male larynx and talk funny...
water adam's tonic...
   i really want to see, though, how many spelling
mistakes i can make... julian... assange? assangé?
mannuel's ¿que?  fawlty ******* towers:
flip me a pancake!
                                  but you know what the saddest
thing about university is? babies...
  you end up teaching them how to make
pancakes, about how you add sunflower oil to
the runny-dough for the purpose of
what would otherwise become a tefal fryingpan:
garko-tłuks!
  can i ask what the necessary proximity of two
letters with diacritical marks? i know that english
loves that **** with either consonants and vowels:
tool.. pool... poll... pal... paul...
                                     stutter, staged,
     staging, poppy, pop, pops,
                         populist, pondering, package,
edge, age, -ydge... ****'s freaky...
             it really is... so you can have the orthographical
aesthetic of two vowels or two consonants side by side,
but what of an actual orthographic example?
the horrid case in poland of ó vs. u...
  there's no visible stress in the disctinction,
it's just something that ends up being either:
pleasing to the eye, or displeasing.
                               i never heard the ó accent to
be honest, people just ended up saying:
we need to remember the beauty of a word that uses
that distinction... notably on walls via
graffiti... grafitti? cappuccino?
          huj vs. hój...    or what later becomes: ahoy!
cockrels for supper! no, wait: cockerels for supper!
tomato       ta-may-toh, american drooling out
spaghetti from their gobs... tah-may-toe(h)...
and between H and H              a lot going on...
     hard to find a laugh though... you find it people
start complaining... i never understood the
cognitive concept of laughter, about how you might
laugh internally...
          if only germany learned to play rugby...
i'd love to see germans play rugby, just for fun,
and expand the tournament into: the 7 nations cup...
what sort of history can combine scotland to
italy? i get the british isles to be related,
but i just loath seeing italy get thrashed all the time...
i'd love to see germany pick up a tenet for rugby
(yes, a tenet, not a tenant... and it is a type
of spiritual currency);
or maybe the germans are just really good football
ballerinas?
            oh they'd fit it alright, what with so much
shared history; they had a football match in
Flanders one time, so why wouldn't they bond over
rugby?
             yeah... so this old form of problems,
what with the church-state complex, that lost both
church, and state, and became a federal institution...
or whatever it was that it became...
it's something new emerging on the horizon?
   i couldn't say church-like, but nonetheless very
much church-like?
                       i don't even know how to conceptualise
current affairs in a hyphen (-) complexity...
   it's ****** obvious though: corporations?
      yet the state disappears... the only permitted
nationalism is american, so what the hell do we get
to juggle with? evidently throwing only one
ball from hand to hand and "pretending"
to be juggling will not end up with a successful circus
act...
                    so we got rid of the church,
and that morphed into the ultimate poly-schism in america,
we got rid of the state, and that morphed into
denials of sorts...
                so from the military-industrial complex
we have created a military-consumer complex...
    isn't that so? isn't america faking it a little bit?
   ever time i had *** with women i always assumed
they were never pleased...
    then one night in st. petersburg i asked her:
- i'm keeping count, how many did you have?
- 7.
- thank-*******-fabulous.
                     brag? isn't that the whole point?
****** brags about a yacht he owns in the caribbean (
carribean?)... i'll brag about that night
                                                  and the 7 ohs;
but the current situation isn't about a military-industrial
complex, that's why there came promises of
job revival: blue work, not white collar work...
   but once you feed china-smaug the coins
for every piece of work someone else could have
done to a better quality... wait... what was that? desolation
of smaug?            
                 the military-industrial complex isn't exactly
dead... but it's like a seesaw with a fat kid:
   to many losses on one side... say 100,000 iraqis
and about 400 english troops...
                when it becomes too easy... to ****** advanced
that it: literally becomes boring...
                  no kind of memorial will do it for me,
i'm still involved in the military-consumerism complex...
          like: it's so so "complex"...
                          throw **** here, throw a **** there,
and then not ask for spoilt snowflakes to come along.
             if i only said something original
i would have been more than happy...
        but since i didn't, and it's all there for everyone
to see, i guess i had to turn toward
         orthographic "inconsistencies" -
or those dreaded words: inverted commas...
     "    "     i'm seeing four, no one writes the un-inverted
comma, since no one writes,, and doesn't point out:
oh look! a typo!
ya see i oarty all over neptune yeah, with methane yeah methane yeah methane yeip

i party all over methane yeah with all the fans of the new england patriots

ya see, everyone in the USA, SAID TO ME, party with me, you do tapestry

and then slim dusty sent

i have tipped methane all over brian i tipped methane all over brian

you see i tipped methane all over brian

and got him blind he could hardly stand

my dad picked brian allan up, and said, i will tip this methane all over ya

but you should be fine with that brian, cause it improves the quality of ya life

and bon scott and micheal jackson said to brian said to brian

you know your bad, your bad, your really really bad

your **** is mine, and if ya can’t get me right

i am way cooler than my body’s celliuite

you see brian is fat, but he is cool, as well

and then i say, party on, i drink my coke, and i say to dad

listen mate i gave you jimmy barnes as your new grandfather, what is wrong with that

dad said, i wanted to be a boy, and then robin wiklliams said **** up nanu nanu

then my nanna said, don’t call my earth body nan boy, he hates it

and i want to sing a song for you

amazing grace, how sweet the sound, leave your family alone brian

you were once my darling, but now your not,

your are blind if you can’t see that

and then started singing fly burgers saying your still not a kid brian

which made brian HAPPY, no matter how nanna sang it

at the footy the flies are cooking on the stove

brian the bbq man is falling in the can

you see we get a well cooked blowie, and put it on a plate

get the fly and say to brian, hows it going mare

in a restaurant a fly comes in and bites  hole out of brian

brian was taken in too much by the alien flies

he drank a whole lot of neptune turpentine

and then you get two buttered buns and lettuce and tomato

with my kid, john robert rimel, yeah i took him out for gelato
then nanna sang

in the summer friends drop round to enjoy the atmosphere

some drank wine, got too ******, some drank coke, for athena;s help

and others just drank beer

the bbq man noticed a fly on his back

this is what he is waiting for tah here is our mate JACK

In a hospital, it’s very busy since fly burgers were on the menu

people trying to inject the flies right out of your system

nanna said, your stupid brian, you can’t die from eating flies

i put the teasing in the young dudes, brian, to make you fucken grow up

this is what i do on earth, since i was john robbery rimel nan said

then nanna threw methane all over brian

and said, i am taking thev darling crap right out of you

brian said fine, you are not my nanny nan

you are john robert rimel now, a cover singer

and then paul berenyi said, you wanna be an artist

and said mmmmmmm, and shoved 234 kegs of methane all over brian, to rid this silly yeah matev yeah kid

and  then paul berenyi chuckled 345 methane smoothies all over dad

and brian shoved 234 methane more kegs on dad, to make dad understand

that his new life, betty campbell isn’t immortal

ya see the hardest years the darkest years the desperate and decided years

these were not forgotten years

the roaring years the falling years, these should not be forgotten years

then my brother came to sing with my nan on jupiter and me and dad went to watch it




Rock, folk rock sponsored links

A long long time ago
I can still remember how
That music used to make me smile
And I knew if I had my chance
That I could make those people dance
And maybe they'd be happy for a while
But February made me shiver
With every paper I'd deliver
Bad news on the doorstep
I couldn't take one more step
I can't remember if I cried
When I read about his widowed bride
But something touched me deep inside
The day the music died
So

[Chorus]
Bye, bye Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry
Them good ole boys were drinking whiskey in Rye
Singin' this'll be the day that I die
This'll be the day that I die

Did you write the book of love
And do you have faith in God above
If the Bible tells you so?
Now do you believe in rock and roll?
Can music save your mortal soul?
And can you teach me how to dance real slow?

Well, I know that you're in love with him
Cause I saw you dancin' in the gym
You both kicked off your shoes
Man, I dig those rhythm and blues
I was a lonely teenage broncin' buck
With a pink carnation and a pickup truck
But I knew I was out of luck
The day the music died
I started singin'

[Chorus]

Now, for ten years we've been on our own
And moss grows fat on a rolling stone
But, that's not how it used to be
When the jester sang for the king and queen
In a coat he borrowed from James Dean
And a voice that came from you and me
Oh and while the king was looking down
The jester stole his thorny crown
The courtroom was adjourned
No verdict was returned
And while Lenin read a book on Marx
The quartet practiced in the park
And we sang dirges in the dark
The day the music died
We were singin'

[Chorus]

Helter skelter in a summer swelter
The birds flew off with a fallout shelter
Eight miles high and falling fast
It landed foul on the grass
The players tried for a forward pass
With the jester on the sidelines in a cast
Now the half-time air was sweet perfume
While sergeants played a marching tune
We all got up to dance
Oh, but we never got the chance
Cause the players tried to take the field
The marching band refused to yield
Do you recall what was revealed
The day the music died?
We started singin'

[Chorus]

Oh, and there we were all in one place
A generation lost in space
With no time left to start again
So come on Jack be nimble, Jack be quick
Jack Flash sat on a candlestick
Cause fire is the devil's only friend
And as I watched him on the stage
My hands were clenched in fists of rage
No angel born in Hell
Could break that Satan's spell
And as the flames climbed high into the night
To light the sacrificial rite
I saw Satan laughing with delight
The day the music died
He was singin'

[Chorus]

I met a girl who sang the blues
And I asked her for some happy news
But she just smiled and turned away
I went down to the sacred store
Where I'd heard the music years before
But the man there said the music wouldn't play
And in the streets the children screamed
The lovers cried, and the poets dreamed
But not a word was spoken
The church bells all were broken
And the three men I admire most-
the Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost-
They caught the last train for the coast
The day the music died
And they were singing

[Chorus: x2]




and my brother took me over to the new place in neptune

where he introduced me to all his drunken mates, and

i drank too many methane smoothies, and i sang

i would love to chuck methane on brian

yeah we are having fun teasing him

methane improves the quality of each others lives

as we chuck methane all over, tome **** or jim

you see this is the way to PARTY

leave brian with egg all over his face

actually the egg is flaming methane

and my brother said, yeah, you look so high on life up here

and brian said, fine with me, brother boy

brian said, the only gentle i am, is, i don’t believe in violence

and violence doesn’t like me

every time i see a fight, i say LEAVE ME THE **** ALONE

then carla watt am said to me

my next earth body is hannah montana, ya see

i got rid of my nice voice, ms chase said i had

i said,. all kids do that, carla

that is why i believe in reincarnation

and i wanna meet miley cyrus, but i have to be famous first

and then paul berenyi said, at poetry slams you are doing well

you don’t have to worry about not talking

but don’t do what you used to do, buddy

always look like ya ready to talk

tonight we are trying to get this jittering for the families out of ya

then i went to my brother and said

i am high on methane

my brother said ok, let’s muck around hey, brian

and party right through the solar system

and then dad said, i don’t think your mates care

that is why, i stopped treating you like a young dude

but they fight, and your no bully brian

slim dusty ivy gimbert and peter sargent  said

i am a baked potato baked potato, baked potato

a baked potato, yeah

you see i am a baked potato a baked potato

a baked potato, ivy, went up to brian and said

that she is a kid now, so is peter and slim

all part of bratayley

so EVERYBODY STARTED TO REALLY PARTY, DUDES
Kagami Oct 2013
Throw a tomato! They're squishy...
Snails are too though, but you can't
Toss them too well.
You could use them like a baseball?
"Hey, batter batter. Swing!"
Touchdown!
But...
T
H
I
S
Isn't high school.
And we aren't jocks.
We just throw cabbages and rotten potatoes
Po-tah-toes.
Tomatoes.
To-mah-toes.
Lets call the whole thing off...
Hey, this is kind of fun! :D
Lunar Luvnotes Dec 2014
When I feel weak,
when all I want is
your voice on the line,
I pick myself up.
Refusing to be meak,
I roar in my mind's eye,
I know what I hold inside.
As I roll my hips and
rah tah tah,
I am whole, and full..
of love, of brilliance.
Like you told me once,
and I shall never forget,
I am not weak,
I just have moments of weakness.
I am strong,
with untold amounts of gold glitter,
shimmering in my veins.
I am resilient,
Thrive is my middle name.
"Moonchild" series. That's not really my middle name..
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2017
all that's audible is a bumping into:
  **** me... i hope that isn't a giraffe
or a london singleton, female: "looking"
but a chair...
       and the rest of my narrative became
sorta blurry...
i hope i bumped into a chair rather than a
giraffe...
funny thing, this would be model
started chirpsing (scottish term for flirting)
with me... allowing me the role of santa claus
sitting on my legs in a bar...
a day before this south african ***** "*****"
me without **** juices...
        like cedric the saxon conquering
the isles...
- thing is... i can understand the scots...
the other gaelic tribes... the irish?
i can't tell a doberman from a rottweiler;
i don't like them, and i'm not even english.
the **** are they on?
                  well, tango in the dark...
is it a chair? is it a giraffe?!
                      i thank god for the fact that
i can experience this sort of joke
   and not bother raising a family, in accordance
with the sage of Königsberg...
            really "strange" things happens when you
enjoy drinking, up to the point where
   you're laughing over robbie williams' videos
in the afternoon, and say: ******* day!
and try, i mean, torture yourself, utilise
the iron maiden to get laughs out of women...
ellen degeneres (e.g.) - i tried, i really, really tried
laughing at the jokes...
                                    robbie's dead and i'm
consecrating a prayer on his grave, like people
congregating in cultish fashion over the grave of
jim morrison in paris... hell! i'm trying!
don't put my ******* in the monkey-wrench!
            i need to feed the ego-go-go!
              what ******* ****** you looking at?
your cousin?
                            i know my cousins are retarted:
like i already said: they tried to **** me so many
times due to my Chernobyll tattoo i starting to ask:
this really is a foetus contra.
                             or what you teach your colt...
unless she calls you up and says: i think i'm pregnant...
oi! descartes! i think therefore i doubt...
doubt being the emotional content precipitating
into             i am, therefore... wha?!
            maybe it's just like they said: women aren't
*****...
                           i really really tried to laugh
at ellen degeneres jokes...
       hmm...                     i realised i wasn't constipated
having eaten almost nothing on the day...
i fancied a hoi sin fajita (fa-he-tah... not a fa-jee-tah)
         wrap of duck from the supermarket...
         but i really though i was constipated...
sat on the throne of thrones expecting a ****...
       all i "plopped" out was alkaline lemonade...
          but **** me can the chinese butcher the duck
properly...
                             the sort of atheists i believe in:
a. they'll eat anything                   and
    b. they don't believe any other species exists apart
            from them.
c.? the ******* bit that adds to an advantage?
                    men take joy from work, women take
joy from ***... it's not that ******* difficult...
                            the chinese can really butcher a duck...
hoi sin duck... it's like bbq sauce...
                                      eating cat treats instead of
haribo... i want to keep my teeth like
those skeletal excavations from the iron age
          in the alps...
                                but ****! i really want to laugh
at a joke a women tells... whether on the concrete savannah
of the urban environment... or stand-up on stage!
i really want to!
                            i really can't! is that sad?
a women telling a joke is like a woman in her
late teens asking a man in his early twenties about
how to fry a pancake!
               and it's happened to me! i had to tell these
teen women how to fry a pancake...
               they tried frying about five, and all of them
ended up being burned... and i just said:
    you have to add oil to the goo-dough... and then
add oil to the frying pan...
           what has fat-free yogurt done to these women?!
you can't find yourself your body expecting
pseudo-sugars all the time! you need fat!
                           oh this is in privy...
                   ever ****** off a pregnant woman showcasing
her ****? pinching her *******... ENLARGED...
                and: if i were married, i'd ask my woman:
can i suckle on that too? i don't want the baby to
get in the way with our love life...
             it's like this cult of the north north
in the antonio banderas the 13th warrior...
                        cult of the pregnant woman? something
the neo-pagans carve into stone, rather than
the classical pagans with phallus etched into wood...
       i really did watch a pregnant woman tease...
   i just felt like rubbing the ******* ("luxury")
                         and looking at her teasing me
with her extra-large *******...
                biology would state: imagine the foetus!
imagine the foetus! look at her enlarge "stomach"!
i thought we were pro-feminism?!
                     a pregnant woman doesn't get you
bullish ready for a torero?
                                i'm single and i'm about to
fiddle with a pregnant woman!
                                   and she's all the more ready
given she's posting videos on the internet
with her head decapitated from view...
                 i mean: a pregnant woman is not
the high-tide of *******, among other things?!
              i hate being an eroto-maniac, but given i
am drinking and walked in the dark and
                           though i bumped into a giraffe,
that was actually a chair...
                        what else? trying to find a woman
stand-up comedian funny?
         a pregnant woman playing with her *******
and imagining ******* at her ******* when the milk
comes to rekindle the *** prior child...
   it's easier to get a hard-on from that:
than a laugh from a woman doing stand-up comedy.
Aaron LaLux Aug 2016
Screen Crack

Jesus,
what the fck,
wait,
Jesus has nothing to do with this,

your hands glued to the,
latest PDA advice,
seems like you cling to your PDA,
like it’s as important as a TAH,

that’s a Total Artificial Heart,
you are the “art” in artificial,
since when did Personal Displays of Affection,
get replaced with Personal Digital Assistant,

would rather ******* in silence,
than talk to someone that could potentially like you,
in the narcissistic network of a sociopathic society,
on thing is certain this cycle of denial is ******,


what the fck,
totally stuck,
mind fckt and ******,
into that little cancer causing PDA that you hold in your hot little hand,

Steve Jobs got cancer,
you think that’s a coincidence,
people that work with electronic devices their whole live’s,
get sick and this is not an isolated incident,

just look at at Stevie Jobs no Wonder he got sick,
died in his mid 50’s alone and in bed thin as a stick,
all those billions couldn’t save him,
so what makes you think you’ll survive,
what makes you think I care if you live,
when it doesn’t seem like you care if I die,

you think you’re saving time on that portable electronic device,
but really you’re not saving time you’re just wasting your life,
because no one ever regrets not spending more time playing video games,
it’s not spending more time with those they love that they regret when they die,

and I’m going to do you a favor and save you the trouble,
of spending your whole life chasing money on a tiny screen,
I’m going to quote Steve Jobs’s last words here,
so that you can start making changes right now before it’s too late…

“I have come to the pinnacle of success in business.
In the eyes of others, my life has been the symbol of success.
However, apart from work, I have little joy. Finally, my wealth is simply a fact to which I am accustomed.
At this time, lying on the hospital bed and remembering all my life, I realize that all the accolades and riches of which I was once so proud, have become insignificant with my imminent death.
In the dark, when I look at green lights, of the equipment for artificial respiration and feel the buzz of their mechanical sounds, I can feel the breath of my approaching death looming over me.
Only now do I understand that once you accumulate enough money for the rest of your life, you have to pursue objectives that are not related to wealth.
It should be something more important:
For example, stories of love, art, dreams of my childhood.
No, stop pursuing wealth, it can only make a person into a twisted being, just like me.”…

See,
there you go,
don’t say I didn’t tell you so,
still you hear the final words of a billionaire and you say “Who cares?”,

and that is actually a serious question,
who cares?

Too busy trying to find fake treasure on Pokemon Go or read the latest news,
it seems all those apples and androids have made you apathetic,
in the Garden of Electronic Eden the internet has replaced intense ***,
no open markets on weekdays just items on eBay our  sympathy is synthetic,

so we don’t feel the vibration of our brothers we just feel the vibration of our phones,

see the more connected we get to the virtual world the less connected we get to the actual world,

and I’m having a melt down witnessing everyone on their cell phones,
and I want to find a reason to believe in but I feel we’re all lost without a home,

maybe I need Jesus,
what the fck,
wait,
Jesus has nothing to do with this,

new addiction to screens phones are the new crack,
cracked screens from dropping your phone gives you a minor heart attack,
oh how attractive cancer seems when it’s attractively wrapped,
in the form of an impersonal personalized phone case crass is the new black,

what the fck,
totally stuck,
mind fckt and ******,
into that little cancer causing PDA that you hold in your hot little hand,

look up look up!

You are alive in a body on this beautiful land.

There’s a whole world out there,
please find someone to get to know and love,
because there’s probably someone right next to you right now,
that’s willing to give you their all you just have to set the phone down and look up!

If you’d only just look up!

But,
you’re don’t see them because you’re too busy playing Pokemon Go,

I know,
we’re part of a 1st World society,
and we play our part by being passively compliant,
in order to be an accessory to our country’s atrocities,

as we get dressed up with the latest techno accessories,

I know,
you don’t want to think about it too much,
because then you might feel guilty,
so you keep your head down like you’re mourning,

you stay on your phone,
because it’s easier to simply not feel,
won’t even make eye contact,
because you’ve been conditioned to fear anything that’s actually real,

insecure and scared of the unknown,
even though it’s the things that we’re most comfortable that usually **** us,
cars cigarettes alcohol cell phones,
I’m telling you addiction to technology is a serious illness,

as we all begin to decay into a mediated mental illness….

Do you even remember what you did on your phone yesterday,
do you even remember what the last time you felt real emotions,
do you even remember the last time you did anything to help the world,
what is there left to believe in when nothing feels right?

Feels like,
we are losing touch with everything that makes us human,
emotions experienced in artistic expressions are leaving,
we have no attention span and cyborg robots do the thinking,

as we steadily slip into an android abyss please remember this,

I Love You,

and that scares you when I tell you like all real emotions scare you,
and then I tell you I want to take that phone you hold and throw it into the ocean,
and you finally look up from your phone stare me in the eyes and say, “I dare you.”,

like you’re defending your phone as if it’s a part of you,
like you’d hate a fellow human for destroying an inanimate object,
because when we’ve lost all emotions only hatred will be lingering,
but I’ll take hatred if that’s all that’s left,

Jesus,
what the fck,
wait, ∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆
Jesus has nothing to do with this,

and I’m the biggest hypocrite,
because I say all this about technology,
but I’m writing these words here on this laptop,
and offering no apologies,

maybe I’ll really realize,
when I’m about to be gone,
alone on that death bed with my millions,
quoting the last words of Mr. Steve Jobs,

“Stop pursuing wealth, it can only make a person into a twisted being, just like me…”
“Oh wow. Oh wow. Oh wow…”,

can you here me now?

No you probably still don’t hear me,
because you’re likely on your phone even right now…

∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆
Your reality check is in the mail...
Brent Kincaid Sep 2015
A woman I once worked with
Was ordinarily quite intelligent
But when it came to pronunciation
She could become belligerent.
Her way was the right way
And she brooked no question.
Braving her ire, I decided there
Was one I had to mention.

She said the word comf-tubble
And I said that was incorrect.
She got so very irate with me
That I feared for my own neck.
She called it socially acceptable,
Her ghastly mispronunciation.
I said it was a sign of the times
The slippery ***** of our nation.
If people were to go on and cease
An honored way of speaking
Then, we are all of us adrift
In a doomed skiff that is leaking.

She said some more to me
But I quit paying much attention.
There were too many “I means”
And “you knows” to mention.
There were ‘haftas’ and ‘ominas’
And the sad utterance, ‘wannabees”.
This poor soul would not pass
The first hour of a spelling bee.
I wondered if this poor soul
Had seen on a computer screen.
The words just as she was saying
On some website she had seen?

I accept that nobody in the USA
Or even in Merry Old Blighty
Says words like Wednesday
Comfortable or February rightly.
It’s like there is an international
Formal and binding declaration
That nobody need say these words
Correctly in English speaking nations.
We can lapse into hickbonics,
We jess *** tah stumble along
And say set instead of sit, and
Others we so often say wrong.

We kin say double pneumonia
And quay’s eye and nukeyoulurr,
Irregardless and even *** cans,
And nobuddy questions wut fur.
We c’n say thangs like reel utter,
SimmYooLurr, BennaFishErAiry.
Innerest, furrmillyurr, Mason Airy,
Flustration and shudder LieBerry.
But as sure as there is air to breathe
And that every day will follow night
Most people pronouncing words
A certain way doesn’t make it right.
edna ellwood Dec 2011
Dey can' make me ride no bus.
I'm tellin' you, dey can' make me.

You know, dey all riled up in dere,
since we started walkin' to work.
I's like dey finally startin' to realize what we can do.

I tell you, Yvonna, I walk three mile to work
e'ry day. E'ry day! Can you believe?
I walk all dat way in my heels;
oh, how my feet are blisterin'!

But I don' let 'em know, no, ma'am.
No, ma'am. I jus' smile like I got all deh
love a' Heaven on my side! Can you believe?
Yes, ma'am, I do. I do.

I get home e'ry day now afte' supper
'cause I can' take no bus.
I much rather walk dan sit in deh back, believe me.
But i's so sad, Yvonna, you know?
To see my chirren tryin' so hard tah cook for 'emself.
I feel bad, honestly.

My husban', he workin' so hard,
he almos' die when he come home.

We go to church, Yvonna, e'ry Sundy, you know?
Don't you, girl?

I pray. I pray dat all dem white people
will leave us alone. Alone, I say!
Dey all preachin' 'bout "We Da People"
'n all dat ****, well, I tell you,
we people too!
We may be black but I tell you,
I tell you, Yvonna, we God's people, too.

Yes, ma'am, we are.

Speak up, girl, I can' hear you.

Well, I guess it don't matter.
Ain't like nobody listenin'.

Nobody listenin' to a old, achin' feet *****.
Nobody but you.
Mateuš Conrad May 2017
i wasn't satisfied with the cartesian
                                                       ­          cogito ergo sum...
                it's not that i couldn't stomach it,
it was just:               not enough?
people claim that maxim to be the source
of all subjectivity,
          and there's nothing objective about
it.
      all this modern talk of subject vs. object,
i had to employ a θήσαύρύς.
      i needed a square... a solomon's star,
two squares encompassed against each other,
nothing akin to the star of david...
i mean solomon's star, of two squares
imposed on each other, layered
so you get an oκτάγωνον oktágōnon
oh ****! a macron over an omicron = an omega!
                                  oh k'tah goo non...
      wait wait... i was going to write something
concrete, and yes, it was based on solomon's star...
             6 things -

     cogito                              sum
subjectivity             ­           objectivity            king david (6)  
   reflexive                           reflective

   thinking = subjectivity = the reflective
    thinking = subjectivity = the reflexive
      thinking = objectivity = the reflective
    thinking = objectivity = the reflexive         king solomon (8)
     being = subjectivity = the reflective
       being = subjectivity = the reflexive
      being = objectivity = the reflective
              being = objectivity = the reflexive

     (alt. given the atheistic scissors of definite / indefinite articles
    of the / a                     a reflex,         a reflection)

what this means is, what's generally thought of as
the tetragrammaton, but it's not four letters,
    it's the interpolation of the four main faculties,
that are now seen as tripling up, or call them: cubed;
a lament configuration representation.
    
     thinking is subjective in that it is also reflective
  (the narcissus bias)
     thinking is subjective in that it is also reflexive
     (i need a shave)
     thinking is objective in that it is also reflective
       (i am ageing)
   thinking is objective in that it is also reflexive
          (i'll just stop looking into a mirror)...

dear apologies for the geometry of the arrangement
                              of words, i know you'd love to see a tartan pattern
              of interchange, but this **** seems rigid, in the way
   that i wrote it... i couldn't find a way to write a b a b
                     as stated, it only came out as a a b b,
                            or a b c a b c         rather a a b b c c.

but do you see what is even more fascinating than numbers?
    the arithmetic symbols... arithmetic symbols
are very much akin to diacritical symbols...
              i write an over-simplification of a concept using =,
and then all these conjunctional words pop up!
   and yes, in terms of citing heidegger as opposed to
        descartes      there's a great disparity between
                          being     and i am -
                          self-evident,       being = the sum, a total, Σ,
while      i am? it's a unitary representation of the total (sum / sigma)
    of the possible mode of being -
       it's also called ego interference / pronoun inteference
             in the conceptualisation of the cascade that's ergo
                            into the basin that's dasein.

what philosophy call metaphysics?
                         linguistics call orthography...
                                 what chemists call para- positioning on
                     a benzene ring;
                                         or what non-chemists call the paranormal.
Though a wimpy, tiny, and puny
(smaller than a breadbox) Ogre
whereat my portable minuscule
fingerhut size adobe abode ex
posed to Strunk and White raw
grammatical elements of style,

I counted Flip (Wilsonian) view,
to camouflage myself anytime
and anywhere as significant add
vantages. The obvious down side
(i.e. severe limitations to pull off

major coup) forced me to axe
paunches pilot while taking a chopper
if I van nah miniaturize daring deed
(done dirt cheap) reconfigured,

retouched, recorded by Das scribe
named Magnum Opus. Indeed,
this chance to golong (equivalent
of Olympic gold) foretold peering
into granule size barren crystal ball.
Preliminary steps undertaken

to pull off impossible mission;
mo' difficult than a blind man
taking eighty steps to Honah
infiltrating 70+ shades of gray area

prime Donald Trump real estate.
A priority prevailed to act on
the QT (q-tip) lest cover get blown,
and suspicious communique encrypted
to gal lobe trotting henchmen.
Urgency spurred daring deed,
cuz targeted subject in question

(majority population counted
as debouched, delirious, and
demonstrably dangerous
demagogue, in short a "FAKE"
president! Security details
(like stray cats on the prowl),

could sniff out ploy to re
program depraved, deranged,
and detached supposed Master
at helm. His audacity, effrontery,
and isolationist iffy ideology
placed him squarely as half baked
cookie monstrosity against

United States Commander in Chief.
First order of business necessitated
tranquilizing this doughty, haughty
enemy of the Lumpenproletariat!

Renown chemist friends of mine
(actually War tin buddies) alias
Diet Coke and/or Diet Pepsi
secured an ampule Taj Mahal

~ circa 1631vintage. One ampule
viz pill could knock out a giant –
sans, Jack and the beanstalk fame.
No ifs, and or bots, the secret
got pulled off without spilling

figurative (jelly) beans. Once
inside auditory labyrinth, I
immediately noticed striking
deus ex machina ***** riot ting
resemblance to microscopic cave.
A thick baad *** sieve sludge
of cerumen sis tah

(waxy substance) deaf finitely
posed an initial dilemma,
which audio slave solution
entailed collaboration to build
a toothpick fence. Pensiveness

unexpectedly found subject
reflexively scratching, poking,
and jabbing inadvertently
finding me toward ground zero.
(alternately titled: ah me go march'n home on derange)

I'll play the devil's advocate, yet
prepare a stance with pitchfork
     against misinterpreted faux attempt
     to describe, how whet
d'ya column re: immigration officials coe vet

patrol, police, and poison tranquil casa blanca
     where killer attack dogs fiendishly pin set
     ting sharp fangs at jugular vein of respectful,
     dutiful, and blissful (or at least

     prior to being sniffed out) innocent
     long time laborer on American soil now get
     ting Das Boot to their unfamiliar Motherland
     (despite living social
     as law abiding righteous folks) fret

full, cuz unfairly punished, and
     cruelly deported, dispirited, doomed
     pained visage non verbally articulates
     at un war rented deportation you bet!

with just a flick of the wrist
and alien hated, pigheaded,
     and xenophobic ventriloquist
bring back the Alien and Sedition Acts 

     with a Trumpeting Latina, Hispanic,
     and for good measure Mulatto twist,  
     where original writ (signed into law 
     by President John Adams in 1798), 
     historical footnote, aye cannot resist

spooking (like a ghost), those *** pill 
     born south of the border pooped and ******
in potties of this proud country, sans free and brave 
     now frightfully get flushed out 

glad to feign dis guise 
     as one among select Geronimo cadre 
     we henchman lubricate 
     wheels of injustice myst
     tuff hie hiding dark shadows 
     (along the edge of night) 

     thence paddy wagon comes 
     to screeching halt nabbing 
     an "illegal alien" name on hit list 
code word "bag dad" (biggest quarry)
     and score a win
     for Barren Trump Tah Mahal Incorporated

impossible mission special ops sentry slithers as trained
     fearless to shackle ******* ranked big hest
catch also including ***** prize,
     as you correctly guessed.
Zindagi us khuda ki banai bisaat hai jis k hum sab mohre hai..
Uske dar tak k raaste me.. Nashukro k liye kohre hi kohre hai

Jo behtar khel jayega wohi jeet jayega..
Par ye hoga tabhi Jab woh behatreen akhlakh apnayega


Khelte khelte kai to fanah ** gaye..
Kai Sikandar..****** jaise tabah ** gaye..
Maiyyat se khali haath bahar le kar is duniya se wida ** gaye

Rubaru apne kafan se jo jeete ji ** gaye..
Mukammal jahan unhi ko mila..jo khuda ki panah me ** gaye

Zindagi me jinhone ilm rakha us khuda ko Yaad karna..
Namaze adda kari..Gurbani paddi.. Granth padde..Hukumname diye..
khuda ne hosle itne buland kr diye..Apne noor se sabhi manzilo..Jannat k raaste unhi k liye Roshan kar diye

Zindagi me Naam..Shoharat unhe bahut mili..jinme alfazo se khelne ha hunar aa gaya..
Sir chad k jinke ye inayat na boli..woh us khuda ko tah umra bha gaya😊
Perhaps 't was a  fah-tah mawr-gah-nah]
from nord; why your barret leaned out
of the dome's open window; moi mani
Tapping the Sir maine above whiskers.

Years ago I said to a bright boy: I'm
totally broken...and he laughed at
my phrasings; whilst his brother
skateddressed up in brits posh
uniform up hill, with frozen
knees, jaggy at downhill
Awaiting toasts, tea and
A headful of read of delightful SF
Richard Riddle Jun 2016
Chances are, you have to do a 'search', then order one on line. If you're under 60 years of age, you probably never heard of it, anyway.

Walking in to a pharmacy, or drug store, asking a young clerk, who is in their late teens, or early twenties, or even 40's to 50's, knowing very well what their reponse will be before you ask the question, becomes'comical', seeing the puzzled expression on their faces, especially when the companies web site indicates the store has it "in stock. A"simple little tool", inexpensive, but to some, of which I am one, 'priceless.'  It can relieve a huge amount of frustration in seconds, put a smile on your face, make your day "bright" again, saves time, can help prevent being late for appointments, and it has been around for centuries, long before the 'zipper' was invented. Approximately eight inches long, solid handle, with a curved wire tip, two and a quarter inches in length. I introduce you, to,"The Button Hook!", Tah-Dah!

This "simple little tool" is used by many who are afflicted with such maladies, as arthritis, or have neuropathy issues in their hands, making it difficult to button a shirt, pants, etc. Just insert the wire end through the buttonhole, loop it around the button, pull it through.
Some tools have a 'hook' on the opposite end of the handle, to help pull shoelaces through the eyelets.

I realize this is not a poem, but there are many on the site in my age range that may have similar issues, or perhaps physical issues due to injury or illness. Just wanted to pass this on to you.(I posted a photo on my Facebook timeline.)

richard riddle 06-06-2016
Richard Riddle Nov 2016
(a non-partisan piece - the U S Presidential Election

The 'Ringmaster' approaches center stage. With mike in hand and toothy smile, it comes, "WE HAVE A WINNER!!" "TAH-DAH!!!"
Attorneys on both sides, all wearing new Nike track shoes, approach the mark, waiting for the 'pop' of the starting gun, ready to race to the Federal Courthouse to file hundreds of legal briefs challenging the legitimacy of the election results. Both sides accusing the other of 'voter fraud', and anything else they can throw into the blender.

"Sit back, folks, the finale is yet to come."

r. riddle: 11-08-16
*2016 U S Presidential Election
Ken Pepiton Jul 2019
Blarney, the legend latest learned says

the group of beings minded to destroy manmind

were familiar with a ratio,  a fractal of power
per hap, each hap has this power, y'see

perhaps we agree
to see things from my POV and I'm blind,

like Milton,
or Fannie Crosby
or the "Isn't she beautiful' guy

who has had his warhol-fifteen consumed
I guess,
he
shoulda carved a stele, eh?

Take m'name down f'm them lights,
carve it care-filled into stone,

soft sand and shell and bone formed stone,
easy to may y'mark

now, bow, touch your brow to this
very stone,
this if I'd known stone

thump thump doh, tah dah
open says a me.
a lie left lying with no gloss to make it shine is just another stumbling stone.
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2017
i could almost swear i was loosing
sorry... losing my mind
   over this, well, phenomenon -
  and it only exists in english -
                   the remnants of latin -
and the lack of germanic "barbarism",
    i thought i turning dyslexic
   for a while...
        but as it turns out,
                cemetary - isn't akin to cemetery -
teerful, tarry - tomato in english
         and ta-may-tah in american english...
   the **** is australian english?
            to-mah-toh in english -
   **** me, american linguistic encoding
  is so much simpler...
                          and faster done -
but now i know why i transliterate
               certain letters in certain words...
     transliterate, right? i'm being spot on
with regards to a proper descriptive noun?
    latin?
    oh sure, i blame the existence of
   graphemes (siamese diacritical
    quadruplets), æ & œ -
let call the former pair adam & eve,
   and the latter oedipus & epicaste,
   we ******* need the german ß at some point,
i'm not saying all the time...
      but come on, poetizing?  looks ugly
even if you don't have the zing,
  but the sing in the spelling...
       poetißing... ah, that's better (not really);
but at least i know
                 why i sometimes make spelling
mistakes... the remnant of the latin art
                        of writing graphemes,
a bit like uv (not ultra-violet)
           as in:    when asking to chisel a word
into stone, where v actually implied u...
             so why did the "lazy" ******* not
bother trimming the other curves in other
letters?
                you'd probably see runes...
     e.g. when R became ᚱ,
                               and B became ᛒ...
                           and S became ᛋ...
that's what i'm saying, they were "lazy"...
   and a shitload of cow... ****...
       poured over poor U.
WISEPENNY Aug 2020
NIGH AH HIGH
EAST COAST BALANCE PI

UP ABOVE THE WORLD SO HIGH
CHRIST THE MESSENGER THATS WHY

HEIGHTEN ENLIGHTEN ANU
LIFT THE TENDRILS IRON LIKE GLUE

MARK THE REEKAGE CHALK UP TAH SPEED
TAH HOOTIE CUTIE BOMBING THE DEEP

PUDDLE MUCK
WATER THE PICK UP TRUCK

OR MATER GATOR HEAVEN SENT ME A SLAYER
Dennis Willis Aug 2019
Ahmma gonna die
ya reminds me
an' I thinx
tah mahsel
no no no
youse just gonna
slows yersel sa much
ahm goin'
I REALLY Jul 2019
potato
poh-tah-toe
potato
pooo-teee-toooo
tomato
toh-mah-toh
tomato
too­o-meeee-toooo
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2018
is this the part
where i
**** my pants?

     i'm not laughing!

but your jihadi b/f
sure as **** is!
                               ha ha!

you want a lesson?
hear the latest
sinéad o'connor
                            videos...
oh right,
proper tux and tire
       and rubric of fake
prayer...
      ******* paddy offshoots...
rummaging tatties...
poh-tah-tay-toes,
pretending the 'shroom
muffin, *******
                            smurfs!  
blue mushrooms!
        ******* turkish cockneys!
   now that calls for saying:
                    'ad me, a bloater.

— The End —