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Breaking down the barriers of exaltation after passion due to the fragmentations of the pointed Sarissas that rose from the dome of the monastery in an unknown vertical direction on the, as advocacy of propositional logic, to surpass the truth values on the crawling positions of the annelids and the alabaster elementals reformulating when detaching themselves from the monastery of Tsambika, as they engender contracted truth from the false truth that had been anticipated. Making from the tautological truth, going back all the memory and physics actions of the Hexagonal Progeny, deriving to atomic spaces, which are known to lock in the absolute truth of combinations of accessibility of exit and entered Patmos, as resulting from Omeganimias or links of spiritual polynomials that were dissipating to complement the departure to Patmos from Mandraki up to Skala, and on the other hand simultaneous Etréstles from Dekas; Kimolos for the remission of the Duoverse communion in the width of the celestial space. The tassels of the Vexillum of Vernarth and Saint John the Apostle, Eurydice, flamed, forming the triangle of the shape of Tsambika, with the triangle of the hexagonal that parliamentary of the stays, before heading to the navigation towards Patmos.
The Vexillum, carried by the wind itself Anemoi, was only carried by these golden gusts of earthworks towards the border of Rhodes, which until now was ancient Greece with its landmarks that the loyal spirits of Alexander the Great resisted accepting his death. Dazzling himself with this noble personification of the Anemoi, he re-establishes himself as part of Vernarth's prophetic and company to the island of the Apocalypse, which after the journey of Saint John the Apostle in Judah, the Cyclades, and the Dodecanese, would begin to relive the apocalypse. written under the mandate of the trinity, as a theological Tautology, running through the same originality and devotion of the heavenly mandate, but reencausing with the Hexagonal Progeny, as if it were rewriting it for the second Time, but from the Omega Point the completion of the Omega Temple on Patmos, to the areas of settlement of democracy and establishment of the Cycle of the Duoverse, as a transition to the rank of Hegemon of Patmos, to lead the spiritual military forces that raged, from the last vestiges from Pentecontecia in the Second Medical War in Plataea in 480 a. C., until the beginning of the Peloponnesian War in 433 a. C. towards the Athenian polis as a thread of their leadership of the nation, retracted by the reinforcement of their military supremacy, by the dominion of Spiritual Judaic, coming from the Hellenic existential inspiration, which spread with total expansion with the confederation of Alexander the Great, Vernarth and San Juan Apostle, as exclusivities that would increase the conclusive campaign of Tautological Omeganymy, shadow after shadow of the naval journey that awaited them with the Tracontero Eurydice, emerging from losses of democratic pacification, conventionally finite with the division and absolutist denial of Alexander the Great, reinstating itself in the Hexagonal Progeny, in accordance with the physiognomic materiality of the restructured Map of Cinnabar bound for Patmos.

The classicism of this operation will rise to the re-establishment of its Commander Hetairoi as the bearer of the Vexillum, under the acronym of IAV, meaning the Trinitarian Hellenistic-Vernarthian existentialism, for all Macedonian Christian children, servants of Jesus Christ, like the Mashiach. The reigns will rise to the last step and then they will fall into the crisis of entropic existentialism, with launching new languages beyond all known vocabulary, with speculative and adaptive pearls of wisdom of Hellenism that is reborn on Patmos, in the elaboration of the Temple of Omeganimia and the academicism of San Juan Apostle. Alexander the Great carries with him the upstart lines of the peripatetic school, walking through Phrygana, almost stepping on the low thicket and soft leaves and that, to the rhythm of the invaders' footsteps, reverberate them towards the dreaded ears of Vernarth, imaginary plant community in the Mediterranean forests, forests and shrubs that exist, but are lacking on Patmos, are only part of the creative imaginary, which are successful in limestone soils around the Mediterranean Basin, generally near the coast, where the climate is improved, but where the conditions annual drought in summer, suggestive of the resinous flavors of a scrub becoming a dressing for transplanted trees before they arrive to meet the Katapausis, the emblem of the Parables of Procorus.

Parables of Procorus

Petrobus the Pelican in one of his wanderings was distracted by some colonial migratory birds from Rhodes, while the Cinnabar was energized. He flew exceedingly, reaching the shores of Patmos, saving himself from returning to the ship with the others of the Birthright. Here he himself met Procorus, where after brushing against the Phrygana with his wings, he was inspired in praise of the Skalá sightings. Procorus in the understanding that he was inspired by this magical bird, I narrate to him from his cranial zone, the parables of his company as a servant bird of Raeder, together now with Procorus, to welcome the ship Eurydice that was already sailing to Patmos. This assertion by Petrobus was of the Hellenic existential time, therefore before they occurred it would reach real-time synchronization, after three hundred and sixty-nine oscillations of the Anemoi under its golden wings.

Parable of Phrygana: (says Procorus by vox from Petrobus)

On the banks of, lived some seeds that were admired by the lights of the cell of San Juan, feeling that it can only be a seed if it is not recognized by another that is the same. Knowing that it is not from the Phrygana genome, they will know that they will never be able to choose a larger size. For this reason, if a Kashmar could be a branch Daughter of Zeus and the titanic Metis: Athena (the Olive Tree) (Minerva). Aspiring to greater trees, greater than the skies of comparable to the wings of Petrobus brushing against the allegories of winter when Procorus becomes a seed that flows from the envelope of the thicket, turning from its own shadow into a monumental tree by day, but at night like Phrygana goblin.

Parable of the Alnus:

The consequence of the Alnus took them out of the oratory persistence towards the heights of a tree that begged its minorities. The raceme's inflorescence, with its leaf blades on a leaf blade, invited them to follow reactivation paths due to the axils of its largest branches. When a lost sheep was lost in the Alnus Glutinous, the smallest plants that decrease or expire would approach, ready for the twigs that are carried by the legs of the lost sheep. But not when winter arrived, still very green with the olive tree that is found again in the mountains of other glutinous that co-merge like lights that dazzle the lesser leagues of Alnus, losing itself in its habitat Alder, in mixed forests with green and black sheep, among Phrygana in God's soil with tame sheep and soil with poor nutrients, but full of green shadows.

Before these two parables, Prócoro says: “It must be maintained that each one speaks with its own language, and they never take long to amaze us, first of all, the color change from green to more green, if its shape, color, and corpulence as a species with the same shadow, regardless of the hue of the size of its species”
Tautological Omeganymy on Patmos
Mr Darwin, please explain

Reading TS Eliot is to be drawn into timeless space where images of past and future combine in a continuous stream of thinking …. perhaps the immortality of ideas. The genetic material of life, DNA, is immortal, an unbroken thread linking life’s origins 4 billion years ago to the present ….. and future.

Sequence upon sequence of symbolic letters encoding countless forms of bodies, built to the same principles inherent in the genetic code, yet morphing in endless variety according to the tenets of natural selection ….. Darwin’s idea that transformed our thinking from a moment of purposeful creation to how life changes through time.

Cosmologists suggest we live in one of many possible universes perhaps in parallel time allowing parallel lives, one not knowing of the other’s existence because of the limitations of our three dimensional view of the world and its existence in the cosmos. We see in three dimensions and no more, but we are aware of more because mathematics tells us so.

Mr Darwin, please explain explores the seamless continuity of Darwinian thinking with the timelessness of Eliot’s poetry…..

I In my beginning is my end …. V In my end is my beginning.
(East Coker, Four Quartets, TS Eliot)


Mr Darwin, please explain

I

What is this selection of love so natural
To drive men insane and women to purgatory
Can Mr Darwin explain?
Some ask the question
But I doubt not, that his meaning is clear
Why love one to one remains so dear,
Though Karl denied it, Lenin too
And Uncle Joe dismissed it
As a plot to subvert what was good for the proletariat.
But in that recent time when ******’s darkness shadowed The Earth
Love glowed in the gloom of the despair of nations’ Terezíns
Which to-day helps to repair our broken dreams
Of why we love one to one.

Keats loved one ***** Brawne
And Coleridge his Asra
But what is ecstasy’s advantage?
When comes the pain of separation
Mr Darwin, please explain.
Is it lust, is it reproduction?
But then when love is thwarted
We cannot function,
Where is the advantage
Mr D --- what is the aim, can you explain?
How the coiled spiral passing from time to time
Its immortal message which condemns each generation
To the pain of separation
When the reaper calls, or the rival sunders
The coils of love’s message we’ve inherited
Since the beginning of time
Why? What is the advantage?
Mr D, please tell me your answer.

The whales they sing one to one
Like Eliot’s mermaids singing
Not to Prufrock but perhaps to you and me
The message of communication.
Is this love as one to one
Each supports another wounded
By the enormity of the harpoon?
The dictator’s message in another form
Devoid of love, sundered, never whole
Coming from that Terezín we never solve.
Dysfunctional Mr D, where’s the advantage
For such conflicting feelings to evolve?

David Applin
March 2012

II

Genes are the immortal ones
The links between past and future
But ever present
Unintentionally directing the future and fate of humankind.

Silent, unobserved yet Gods of their domain
Which is us and life past and future
Coiled threads of eternity that determine our happenings
Including our loving one to one.

Yet ….

In their entirety and interaction
Do they, in their interaction
Determine our loving one to one?
The bond that binds each to each
Perpetual celebration.

Or ….

Is their selfish blindness which some accord to be
Inconsequential
Like boats tossed helplessly on storm driven seas
Subject to the whims of wind and rain
No more than replicators housed in vehicles
Subject only to the chances of a changing world.


III

Bodies are vehicles, genes the replicators
Bodies and genes indivisible
At least in the present
But separated as bodies die after
Genes have passed to their immortal future.
Perhaps this is what is meant when they say
That the gene is selfish.

Accommodated in the selfless body at a particular time
But then discarded as genes pass its immortality
From past to future
Changes slow, quick depending on stasis or acceleration
According to Darwinian tenets that enfold the changes
In genes and therefore bodies
Through all time.


IV

Cycle upon cycle of genes and bodies
One perpetual, the other discarded each generation
By the unseen hand of an uncaring Nature.

Our nature, all nature, the beauty of sunsets
Driven by the mechanical clocks of cosmic cycles.

Yet Relative to other Dimensions where
What we see, we do not see
Because of the profound limitations
Of three dimensions.
We see only dimly what might be past
And what could be future
As we struggle in the presence of tautological explanation.

Body and gene, gene and body the temporary and perpetual
Bound in the dance of a living presence
The one ensuring the other’s future
For all time.
Circle upon circle, tautological argument
Explaining everything and nothing but all powerful
In its reductionism of humankind
And life kind as whales support the one
Wounded by the enormity of the harpoon
Loosed by the bodies of genes
Storm tossed and directionless
When thinking that others’ bodies
Can be discarded without thought or thinking
Perpetual damnation.

Tautomeric interaction.
We say the same thing in different ways,
Recycled ideas that parody the twenty different plots of novels
That return to the same point,
Come back to the common question

Why do we love one to one?

People ask…. ‘Can Mr Darwin explain?’

Perhaps not through bodies and genes
But instead, understanding the epistasis of genes and where we live.
We live in this world because of our past
As genes dance to the chance of environmental shifts
The whims of wind and rain, sea and wave
That blow and toss the genes
In their bodies, in random patterns,
Some sinking, others floating
Not always by chance
But because they float and fight
Yielding to the pressures of an uncaring nature.
Like soft down yielding to the thud of falling bodies
Softening their impact.

So to yield as well as fight
Is part of the selection of one by another
In the perpetual
Celebration of loving one to one.

We yield to the blandishments of the soft embrace
We fight to attain it

And once attained, what we do is all we do
To keep a hold on what we love
Only to lose it to the grim reaper of all our dreams
In this present world,
But to regain it in worlds to come
The link between past and future
For immortal genes
Of transitory bodies which is how
We think and see our presence
In time without end.



V

General relativity and quantum mechanics
The combination of infinity and the very small
Do not replace the Newtonian meaning of the day to day.
Just, that Newton is displaced to another time and place
Where description is precise but with uncertainty according to
Heisenberg.

To be certain is to fix ideas in time
Like natural selection in the Darwinian mind
To be propitiated without exception, else suffer extinction of self
And of all that matters to self and others
Sacrificed on the alter to propitiate the Gods of our certainty.

That is not to say that an idea cannot be fixed in time
That its central tenet is not true for eternity.
But truth is relative and uncertain
To be strengthened or cast aside
By better truths or developments of the same.

Our understanding expands with time
But often returns to something that was said before
And said again as if it were newly minted
In the mind of its creator
To become dogma
And as all dogmas
The truth unchanged in people’s minds.
Yet the central tenet survives, as survival is the result of natural selection
But with added components as
Understanding expands as to what is meant by surviving and survival.
To inherit the coils of love’s message is to survive.


VI

Can Mr Darwin explain?
Perhaps is not a whole question
In the same sense that answers depend on
The question asked and who is asking.

The truths that questions seek to answer
The truths of love, beauty and heating systems
Arise from answers to questions in different languages,
And languages translate imperfectly from one to one
As genes imperfectly translate proteins and therefore love in the
Darwinian world of our dreams.

Truth comes in different forms
And Darwinian truth is true to the questions it addresses.
But these are not the only questions of why we are,
Who we are, what we are
Who, what, why are we?

Questions past and future asked in the present
For all eternity.


Christmas (25th-28th) 2012
David Applin

Copyright David Applin 2015
......the rest of the poem as promised when the first part was posted May 2015. Another poem from the collection 'Letters to Anotherself'
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2017
it usually happens like this, the moment you expand and exfoliate in vocab gymnastics worthy of poetry, and cannot fathom the mundane lumberjack constraints of writing fiction, were the use of a thesaurus is in plain sight... people start calling your sentence construct a "psychiatric" symptom of making salads... too bad these critics have such a limited vocab bank account, that they still have to use the thesaurus, in order to "spice things up"! i tried and i tried, but i can't make language rigid, systematic; i tried being the bricklayer of language with paragraph rooms: but i just end ******* it up, like a picasso.

a man might as well have said:
                      to have *shared
an experience,
is to also have paid  a remissions for qualms
of having lived a life: mostly apart -

and is that not so?
this "shared" experience,
   is nothing but a reinvention
of the dionysian cult -
and by that i mean:
nothing more than the obliterate
target practice against
any mould, or "biased" glue
to fathom beyond the thought:
something good.

fool the man and folly another,
should he come from an age
of technological "investigations"
and replica interventions -
seems only the nomad,
the less civilised is the one:
who sought wisdom, and found it...
*****-strapped in diapers
and mosquito bites...
    truth to power!
i once had e lake, now aye av a bog,
my my: a fine wide ranging
toilet crouch moment:
but my my, wh'ah a woo!
  i mean view... neever took a ****
and felt so exasperated by the canvas,
than the ease of me giving birth to
a ****-worm...
  oi! armstrong! stretch!

have you noticed why stand-up comedy
is a wholly black vs. white affair?
these days us peeps can't say
anything profound, nothing biblical,
so, we resort to not being taken seriously
and, crack a joke...
    i mean... it doesn't matter that i don't
come from a non-colonial white group,
i still can't say anything profound...
i have to crack a joke, to be taken seriously...

problem is: i might actually crack a bad joke...
i actually might not be that much funny
as a dog chasing its own tail...

a man might as well have said:
to have shared an experience,
is to also have paid
a remissions for qualms
of having lived a life: mostly apart -

and that's true, in that,
a "shared" experience is never a lived
experience...
      the ****'s up with these shamanic
holidays?
   we know we end up on cruise ships
trying to celebrate "thinking",
while at the same time succumbing
to "being" bored...
          
         the only lived we ever had was
down the pub...
    and the "shared" we attempted to
capitalise on?
    bad acid trips, bad shroom trips,
post-scriptum of a white girl
  injecting concentrated ayahuasca...
yeah, really "lived" through it together...
the sharing is not the living,
the week doesn't concentrate with
a weekend, with friday binge, saturday binge,
sunday rest...

     the left? do the capitalist infiltrators
even know what the left stands for,
the left orthodoxy? jew.
you have too much time on your hands,
scrap the 0-hour contracts, and make people
work the mandatory 6, as it was done
in post world-war II "******" states...
less time to riot and chant ******* slogans...
maybe these people can learn
the orthodox way...
        
           people with 2 days off usually waste
one of these days on utopia, and the other
on the status quo...

     **** me, that's decent, i'm going to stutter:

           people with 2 days off usually waste
one of these days on utopia, and the other
on the status quo...

oh yeah, and make army conscription mandatory,
given that universities are obsolete,
just for the boys out there, save the "boys",
bring back mandatory conscription;
it'll be like ilford county high vs.
the ilford ursulines: secular segregation,
and the mosques can just *******;

you know, i this idea of being a social engineer...
it's titillating! like saying the word scone
or crumpet to a russian girlfriend!
**** gives me the giggles!

b.t.w.: shhh, don't tell anyone...
it might be the *** talking...

no, i don't believe in ******* mud sweat
soaking condoms and cheap beer glastenbury of
shared experience...
      i don't believe in "sharing" an experience,
i don't believe in group yoga, group detox,
group schmuck worth of l.s.d. or a dope get-together
to listen to some impromptu jazz and recite
poetry like those beatnik quacks of the 60s...
if it's not a lived experience,
   like preparing dinner, and sitting by the table...
well... nothing is worth sharing... n'est-ce pas?

you either experience a lived experience,
or you experience a mockery of life -
   this... thing, called "shared" experience,
3 days at a festival, and then?
off you go vermin! back into your cages!
chop chop!
            on the ******* treadmills, pronto!
most of these people can't even imitate autism,
or the child, or concentrate within the focus
of solipsism, given the theory, some *******
even claim that it's a mental "illness":
or as i like to call it: the proper state of affairs
of being an only child.

these people do know that they're breeding really
******* patients, hiding behind the label
"mental illness", while at the same time not
calling islamic terrorists as also being mentally ill,
they know that, don't they?
   i mean, the media is breeding really angry people
with this dissociative-dissociation -
yes, i know, but this imminent tautological blunder
can't be metaphorical, akin to plain sighted
interaction of prefix-magnets...

        oh wait... associative-dissociation actually
does make more sense... d'uh: tautological prefixation
never works: the paradoxical blunder...

       oh ****, have a party,
   step it up with "tautological":
as i might also add: existentialism and the inverted
commas - the laziness regarding the aristotelian
genesis of proper nouns, and quick-hand-draw nouns;

and when you write so "confusingly" as to make
your reader distrust you, in that you have read
enough books, for them to not be able to make
identical references of a chronology of reading.

to be honest, given this western media punch-bag?
i'd rather be called a terrorist,
   than someone who's mentally ill...
  god's honest truth, since then i'd be dealing
with puritanical matters of conviction -
and as one theist said to another theist:
much easier contemplating a "non-existent"
being, than being stuck in an atheist's head
pretending to reinvent the wheel,
and the cave man, and return to mama chimp;
just saying... at least the idea of "god"
either brings the desire to procrastinate
by gesticulating the existence of: via prayer -
or being ****** by the void,
    of a non-existence of, the thing that consumes
thought - res edere cogitans;
still, much better than being cannibalised
at an atheist banquet;
i much prefer shoving my ego up his ***,
than into the mind of some atheist,
and then start nodding in approval like
some zombie carrier pigeon,
which scratches its delivery confirmation
with a hook of gangrene.
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2016
it's inherent ontology, it's not even necessary to process inherited ontology; inherited ontology can be riddled and lost to abstraction like the invention of crosswords as antidote to the drilling-in of the Bible... but inherent ontology? inherent is a tautological invitation to italicise the word ontology - tautology anti synonym - the doubly stressed, point origin secured, but from two adjacent / adjective angles - well, might as well be a compound, the adjacent-adjective, when language meets math and math meets.... d'uh... or simply arithmetic, because that's how it's easily translated, arithmetic is grey people and math the rich... language the poets and grammar the farts.*

a shortened critique of pure reason -
                                                               ­   a) based on phenomena
                    (things most likely talked about)
and
                                            b) based of noumenna
                                        (things least likely talked about)....
i.e.                    a) and the ego implant,
and                                                     ­ b) the god implant -
likewise the zealots on either side,
bleep bleep beep r r e r s.... and muslims...
i forgot to mention that Kant forgot
to mention the trigonometric foundations
as justifying owning a villa or whatnot,
the same foundations of having
the implant ego secured and willed
are the same parameters of the
implant god secured and thought
the point being dynamic parallelism,
mid-way between cosine and sine
rigid fluctuation tangents occur,
the ridiculous abbreviations, the p.s., and ibis.;
you're basically born with ego
or you're born with god -
there's no woof woof Pavlov chime chime in between -
ring-a-ding-ding-surprise?
there's no side-winding to create cinema -
being born with ego is explained clearly, coerced
with monetary affairs;
being born with god is explained "clearly", coerced
with murderers, lastly -
no psychological theory will box-me-in
given the lost tribalism and the usage of
the trans-valuation of the synonym of thing -
with money came slang - and all thorough evils,
with slang, synonyms, antonyms, critique of vocab.,
Arizona in the ******* Amazon -
i'm basically saying what Kant said:
god isn't uncool or whatever atheism tends to forget,
it's an implant of functioning, we can't rid it
by argument, and we certainly can't accept it
by prayer - unless we're dumb enough to do either
for worth of understanding tornadoes;
because that's were Seymour Hoffman started for me,
filming Twister.
Its 8:30 in the AM
The Corn Moon
is being routed by a
Manassas cloud bank

NPR be barking
Irma this, Irma that
my tremblin Rav4
stuck in the rush
is idling behind
a pair of gray hairs
spewing
leaded premium
out the back
of a big old black Buick
sportin Florida tags

inching north up I95
I’m relieved to be
a thousand miles
ahead of the
monstrous *****
denuding Barbuda
deflowering the
****** Islands
and threatening to topple
the last vestiges of
Castro’s Dynasty
by disrupting upscale
bourgeois markets
for cafe Cubanos,
cool Cohibas and
bold Bolivars

she’s a CAT 5
counterclockwise
spinning catastrophe
churning through
the Florida straits
bending steel framed
Golden Arches
shaking the tiki shacks
gobbling lives
defiling tropical dreams

the best
meteorological minds
on the Weather Channel
plug the Euro model
to plot a choreography
of Irma’s cyclonic sashay

they predict she’ll
strut her stuff
up a runway  
that perfectly
dissects the  
Sunshine State
ransacking
the topography
venting carnage
like battalions of
badly behaved frat boys,
schools of guys gone wild
sophomores, wreaking havoc
during a Daytona Beach
spring break
droolin over *******
popping woodies at
wet tee shirt contests
urinating on doorstoops
puking into Igloo Coolers
and breaking their necks
from ill advised
second floor leaps
into the shallow end
of Motel 6 pools

but I’m rolling north
into the secure
arms of a benign
Mid Atlantic Summer
like other refugees,
my trunk is
filled with baggage
of fear and worry
wondering
if there’re be anything
left to return to
once Irma
has spent herself
with one last
furious ****
against the
Chattanooga Bluffs of
Lookout Mountain

Morning Edition
Is yodeling a common
seasonal refrain
the gubmint is
just about outta cash
congress needs to
increase the debt limit

My oh my,
has the worm turned
during the Obama years
the GOP put us through a
Teabag inspired nightmare
gubmint shutdowns
and sequestration
shaved 15 points
off every war profiteers vig
it gave a well earned
long overdue
take the rest of the week off
unpaid vacation
to non essential
gubmint workers
while a cadre of
wheelchair bound
Greatest Generation
military vets get
locked out of the
WWII Memorial on the
National Mall

this time around
its different
we have an Orange Hair
in the office and there's
some hyper sensitivity
to raise the debt ceiling
given that Harvey
has yet to fully
drain from the
Houston bayous

the colossal cleanup
from that thrice in a
Millennial lifetime storm
has garnered bipartisan support
to  clean up the wreckage
left behind by a
badly behaved
one star BnB lodger
who took a week
long leak into the
delicate bayous of
Southeast Texas

yet we are infused
with optimism that our
Caucasian president
and his GOP grovelers
now mustered
to the Oval Office
will slow tango
with the flummoxed
no answer Dems
to get the job done

pigs do fly in DC
Ryan and McConnell
double date with
Pelosi and Schumer
get to heavy pettin
from front row seats
beholding droll  
Celebrity Apprentice
reruns

The Donald, Nancy and Chuck
slip the room for a little
menage au trois side action
transforming Mitch and Paul
into vacillating voyeurs
who start jerking their dongs
while POTUS, and his
new found friends
get busy workin
the art of a deal

rush hour peaks
static traffic grows
in concert with
a swelling  
frenetic angst
driving drivers
to madness
terrified
they won't
get paid if
the debt ceiling
don't rise
they honk horns
rev engines
thumb iPhones
and sing out
primal screams

unmindful drivers
piloting Little Hondas
bump cheap Beamers
start a game of
bumper cars
dartin in and out
of temporary gaps
uncovered by the
spastic fits and starts
of temporary
decongested
ebbs and flows

A $12 EZ Pass
gambit is offered
the fast lane
on ramp
has few takers
just another
pick your pocket
gubmint scheme
two express lanes
lie vacant
while three lanes of
non premium roadway
boast bumper to bumper
inertness
wasted fuel
declining productivity
skyrockets
the  wisdom of
the invisible hand doesn't
seem to be working

DOJ bureaucrats
In Camrys and Focuses
dial the office
to let somebody
know they’ll
be tardy

gubmint contractors in
silver Mercedes begin
jubilantly honking horns
NPR has just announced that
Pelosi and Schumer
joined the Orange team
the rise in the debt ceiling
will nullify their 15%
sequestration pay cut

NPR reports the
National Cathedral will
deconsecrate two hallowed
stained glass windows of
rebel generals R E Lee
and Stonewall Jackson
it's a terrible shame that
the Episcopal Church
will turn its back on the
rich Dixie WASPS
who commissioned these
installations to commemorate
the church's complicity
in sanctifying the
institution of slavery,
WWJD?

as I ponder
this Anglican
conundrum another
object arrests my
streaming consciousness
upsetting an attention span
shorter and less deep
than the patch of oil  
disappearing under the front
of the RAV as I thunder by
at 5 MPH

to the left I eye a
funny looking building
standing at attention
next to a Bob Evans

I’m convinced
Its gotta be CIA
a 15 story
gubmint minaret
a listening post
wired to intercept
mobile digital
confabulations
from crawling traffic
inching along
beneath its feet

this thinking node
pulsing with
intelligence
reeking with
counterintelligence
the tautological
contradiction
guarantees the
stasis of our
confused
national consciousness

strategically positioned to
tune into the
intractable Zeitgeist
culling meta code
planting data points
In Big Data
data farms
running algos
to discern bits
of intelligence
endeavoring to reveal
future shock trends
knows nothing
reveals less

the buildings cover
is its acute
conspicuousness
gray steel frame
silver tinted glass
multiple wireless antennas
black rimmed windows
boldly proclaim
any data entering
this cheerless edifice
must abandon all hope
of ever being framed
in a non duplicitous
non self serving sentence

the gray obelisk a
national security citidel
refracts the
fear and loathing
the sprawling
global anxiety
our civilization's
discontent
playing out
in the captive
soft parade
ambling along
the freeway jam
imobilized
at its stoop

Moning Edition jingle
follows urgent report of
FEMA scamblin assets
arbitraging Harvey and Irma
triaging two
tropical storm tragedies
and a third girl
just named Maria
pushed off the Canaries
and is on its way to a
Puerto Rico
homecoming

while
gubmint  bureaucrats
anxiously push on
to their soulless offices
the rush hour jam
has peaked
my WAZE
is having a
nervous breakdown

next lane over
a guy in a gold PT Cruiser
is banging on his steering wheel
don’t think this unessential worker
will win September's
civil servant of the month award

Ex Military
K Street defectors
slamming big civie
Hummers
getting six mpg
lobby for a larger
apportionment
of mercenary dollars
for Blackwater's
global war on terror

Prius Hybrids
silently roll on
politely driven by
EPA Hangers On
hoping to save
a bit of the planet
from an Agency Director
intent on the agency's
deconstruction
the third 500 year hurricane
of the season
is of no consequence

obsolete
GMC Jimmy’s
are manned by
Steve Mnunchin
wannabes
the frugal
treasury dept
ledger keepers
pour good money after bad
to keep the national debt
and there clanking
jalopies working

driving Malibus
DOL stalwarts
stickin with the Union
give biz to GMC

nice lookin chicks
young coed interns
with big daddy doners
fix their faces and
come to work
whenever they want

my *** is killing me
I squirm in my seat
to relieve my aching sacroiliac
and begin to wonder if my name
will appear on some
computer printout today?
can’t afford an IRS audit
maybe my house will
be claimed by some
eminent domaine landgrab?
Perhaps NSA
may come calling,
why did I sign that
Save The Whales
Facebook Petition?

The EZ Pass lane
is movin real easy
mocking the gridlock
that goes all the way
to Baltimore
a bifurcated Amerika
is an exhaust spewing
standing condemnation
to small “R”
republicanism  

glint from windshields
is blinding
my **** is hurtin and
gettin back to Jersey
gunna take a while
GPS recalcs arrival time

an intrepid Lyft driver
feints and dodges
into the traffic gaps
drivin the shoulder
urging his way to the
Ronnie Reagan International
I'm sure
gettin heat from
a backseat fare
that shoulda pinged
an hour earlier

Irma creeps
toward the Florida Keys
faster then the
glacial jam
befuddling congress

I think I just spotted
Teabag Patriot
Grover Norquist
manning a rampart
bestriding a highway overpass
he’s got a clipboard in hand
checking the boxes
counting cars
taking names
who’s late?
who’s unessential?

man
whatta jam we're in

Music Selection:
Jeff Beck: Freeway Jam

Orlando
9/21/17
jbm
written as im stuck in jam headin back to jersey
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2016
i've become as lazy as composers
when writing titles,
example of tautology is as lazy
as beethoven's ninth symphony...
yeah, grand... but what a dull title!*

so i was reading this article
about bim adewunmi
about the singer laura mvula...
and you know how it goes...
leftist liberals tend to write
tautological spaghetti,
likened to bim's example:
'short-haired, dark-skinned
black girl', bim, we get it...
could have said rancid cinnamon
for all i care...
tautology is a logic of adding
more salt than the salt required
so it doesn't taste too salty when it
does... i could also proof-read
other journalists...
restaurant critics are the best laughs,
esp. when reshuffled like
a ****** cabinet of the labour party
to the opinion columns...
then it's not called opinions section
but table talk... a bit like saying:
do i woo the sea back into this oyster
before i gulp-down-the-hatch-it?
well what do you expect,
free democracy and subsequently
free journalism has a judas kiss /
brutus stab at everything,
why not laugh at it as a useless
get up in the morning read a newspaper
be pulverised by stories from kingdoms
far far away and opinions of people
who'd send ******* dubbed
soldiers off to the slaughter fields of Flanders
so they can keep erectile egos ready
for a salary readied...
journalists always divert the heat & fire
to the politicians... while
journalists get away with satirising themselves,
and i dare say, they are the clumsiest
satirists of themselves,
the most wonky ready to dismantle itself
noumenons in existence.
- journalist: huh?
- the public - (elvis') aha uh um (frolicking
without the stiff upper lip).
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2016
i was in the womb when
the chernobyll calamity happened
in 1986...
people still speak of seeing
radioactivity rainbows
in the trees: segregating streaks
where 10 metres of trees
were green and 10 metres of
trees were brown...
much of my ailments i blame
on the chernobyll calamity,
with neurotic scandinavians
spotting the radioactivity
while some of us were tattooed
with symptoms
by this great tattoo artist;
yes, chernobyll was far away from
where i was born,
but we're talking about atom among
atoms in the wind - distance doesn't
really matter when atoms are involved,
not all hurricanes are visible,
the atomic fabric is too fragile to be
as easily isolated as a tornado for the eyes
to see - remember what i told you:
10 metres of green trees, 10 metres of
brown trees, Vivaldi was turning
in his grave; the seasons are all but
forgotten, spring blossom on trees
throughout winter, and daffodils
and other flowers perpetuating colour -
and because they're around throughout
the year, they're not that beautiful
when the right temperature feeds the pores of skin
to turn ivory tinge into copper hue
(yes, anti-classical poetic technique
requires the use of tautology - it's
the new form of rhyming - tautology
is required now, not rhyme immediate e.g.
tinge & hue... that's an e.g. of tautological
rhyming - or like baby pink & pastel red,
chestnut & cinnabar, dark sienna & seal brown).
JP Goss Mar 2014
Two stations’ negation
Clasped by ands, the
Parentheses betroth
Like wedding bands.
But faithful constants,
Anything but,
My mistress, she’s thine
And from permutations
Is thusly cut.
But embrace, do I
This incestuous reality
And all for the love of my
***** Logicality.
And that, in one sense,
Flagrant ambivalence,
And yet, in another,
I blush with kisses from
Tautological Equivalence.
Justin Wright Apr 2013
At the end of a tunnel, you are spent, dried and weary,
Waiting for the wave, the aubade to come wash you away;
You are finalized and resolute in realization,
In somnolence, you epiphanize, you tabula rasa, you blanken
your slate to transcendence!
But  
At the end of a tunnel, you revert to the beginning.
You become inversely existential, and
you rush to drive again, passing foot to gear, go!
Meter ramming, miles against minutes or so...
Cruise,
Slow, Insistent, salacious, caressing the wheel, just you,
And the road, not wide open, just
Close, or, variable, toying, experimenting , with
The road, just it, and you; In the darkness, swerve,
Quick! Stop...gauge...go! Learning tread marks, Scorching,
This is
My road, my car, no cold-stone truckers,
Just me, and the dragon, Self consuming.
Solipsistic ideals become obsolete.
Consciousness  becomes archaic and Freudian
Reins,
Its Id superbly egotistical, an ephemeral presence
Of an amorphous reality, erected with pillars.
At the end of a tunnel,
You become resurrection.  
You become tautological.
VaR
the panel of experts
spoke in learned lexicons

eager to evenly distribute
Gaussian gesticulations

I once struggled to
understand

I would crane my neck
strain my brain

to discern meaning
from these learned men

what was I seeking
to understand

from these crazy
white people?

The main point is
uncertainty

impossibility
of correct
correlation to
improbability

the rising risk
of being sure

VaR is trapped
by history

backward looking
exploring efficient frontiers

"misuse of VaR
is the misuse
of it"

huh
???
***!!!

its my
mistaken
belief
that it is
a useful
indicator
placing

its value
at risk

such tautological inanity
comforts and soothes


Song Selection
Sam Cooke
What a Wonderful World

NYC
10/10/10
jbm
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2017
unbelievable, i suddenly became entwined in a cultural project of argument, and had an opinion... what could suddenly come next?! i start biting my nails, and farting into a cushion, and think about ageing, seriously, buy seriously i mean: buying a car, a change of clothes worth a month, and forget cooking my own food, eating out on the town every night... yeah... growing up... looking serious... looking primmed for the worth of life: wholly political....... sign me up!

when i hear talk of the *superego

and the id
i don't think of anything to say,
i feel they are akin to the necessary
constructs of the world around us,
e.g. (foremostly) the self-employed...
the same with the "hierarchy"
of these supposed psychology unionists...
these so-called fractions...
  what kills fictional exploits?
i.e. writing books?
well, the premise that the superego
and the id are feline, cosy,
cushioned in their reclusive naturalisation
of our demand for dialectics or argument....
these constructs are merely
automata... they are fractions
of the automaton...
       they are auto-
       concise and precise enough
to stress an ego...
    and god... didn't we **** off the Romans
to a point, that still engrosses itself
in keeping the last remnant,
the Vatican care to call a colleseum a church
and the two akin in being eternal?
you seen the anglican congregation lately?
  it's hardly worth a comment akin
to a football pitch.
        it's enforced narrative...
all the cases for superego's or id's existence...
       both best summarised by the prefix auto-...
or: lacking the ability to imitate Dumas...
   you don't actually get far with both / either
of them...
    this automaton schism of what the ego
can actually propose is gone...
                it's a new age schism, after all...
but unlike the ego, which you can actually
control, or cage within a pentagon of the sensual
barricade... thankfully the ego is too
prone to evaporation... too trickly,
             too out of reach...
hence the need to recount a counter
trinity of the religious tradition,
with a superego and the id....
               just enough fakes to **** of narration
altogether...
   superego and id are of the same strand,
i.e. auto-,
   meaning they are the foodstuffs of narration...
just about the same time
a plumber fixes a toilet,
an intellectual (also paid) will talk of
the superego...
         to me the said intellectual is nothing more
than an automaton...
                   because i think the dissection
of the individual is nothing but fake,
contrary to atheism and theism:
truly of man design...
       i see it as nothing but a quick
escape,
  both superego and id are made into auto-,
i.e. for the easy narrative...
for they are just that...
          maybe my argument comes from the fact
that i have no narrative to give unto
these two entities...
but thankfully god...
                 and how i can see
ego, superego and id in a Christian dogma...
but please tell me where schizophrenic
symptoms originate, in which unit,
please?!
          oh wait... you can't!
it's easier treating everything with a crucifix!
and stigma!
          happy days... ah...
i'm starting to think of pooh bear
and have a need to cry...
         but as i already said,
writing novels is about nearly dead...
  given the dictators of superego and id...
meaning that the only non-automaton
fraction of a human psyche is the ego,
that false sense of identity, of the nearest
testing ground for mortality...
      when i hear intellectuals really get to grips
and make grit with the fractions superego
and id i start to summarise them with
auto-, a prefix denoting that they're robots...
    and if this could only be the crowning achievement
of a modern-day heartfelt scene of alienation...
nope... i'd rather be a fishmonger
  at Billingsgate at 3a.m.
              i like these Freudian fixations,
they express the fact that i can't write novels...
and i can spot auto- narratives derived from them...
       just like i can spot priests and
devotees climbing hills on their knees...
   as ever, to give the ego stability...
    to give it everything that death apparently
"robs it of"...
                it wasn't enough to give the ego
   a pronoun reversal and a free-reign on using
i with all that much, unnecessary theory...
      it wasn't even for a theory base
on the care for: keeping the tick-tock ticking....
       i can only suggest that we're mutilated
beyond hope,
          and that the only hope we have is that
heaven is riddled with all things bureaucratic...
    and that hell is merely guided by:
take to things as they are, not worth being
taken to by two.
              the Koranic nadir-principality of forlorn
statistics comes only ever so often,
and when it weakens, the arguments begin -
alias: how to avoid a tautological argument...
    that's me, thinking i invented
a refrigerator.
  that's really tautology...
    i mean what's happening now...
   with a sudden stench akin to foot-stuffs
from a supermarket with a u.b.d. and b.b.d.,
akin to the Koran... having sentenced one
of the either acronyms to current affairs...
       still...
i hear the arguments to keep the Freudian
architecture, and i can only think of one
human and two robots in the construct.
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2019
men attired in canadian chequers:
like jumberjacks...

          and what becomes
the heaving breathing of that,
which constitutes a horizon:

upon that wood's horizon...
        i entombed meine herz...
as i told it...
in those wooden scuttle
for morph & skim-reading
of books, i.e.:
speak to the few,
and fewer still for any chance
of the morose moor
of more..
  
          boot-lick without
an SS-mann's schuhcreme...
i too see
                 the moon
in the basin reflection of a lake:
der mond...
                    die alles...
                 und meine gesicht zü!

seems: i have no apparent
reason to stage a fright
for the dodo project
in a language: "becoming"
exinct...

                what becomes
mecca was already persepolis...
in that:
bowing in tow,
the deity of the sun...
has... become whiff
of corrupt pleasure...
   sonnegottheit...
   lovely **** lovers,
as dictated by
a w. Burroughs...
strapped to an enclave of
Tangier...
      as much homosexuality
under Islam as...
            what is worth
the "natural" world,
with a buffer of ideology
counter technology
for the onto-;
gentlemen?
     on your knees:
please bow...
            
that...
   how to tell the german
philosophers apart...
i.e.
   dasein &
                    daßein?

              ᛋ:ᛋ....

          ­   hahnohr zü krächzen!

diese deutsche:
mein mütter...

                  and i could have been
such an idle:
sycophant...
    such a toy-boy-shoe-shine
worth of a punk: agenda...

come the rigid whip...

these days: it is no longer
worth its due to
write poetry to escape
the world...

one needs...
to read some philosophy,
to escape the world,
for sure,
but one also requires
an ability to fathom
a construct of a fortress
of a vocab.,
that only:
the systematic application
of language
for the understudy
of philosophy:
breaks, fathoms,
beckons with.

oh, i actually know very little...
but what i do know is...
the basis of all wordly
fade-out vogues...
containing a man...
  
whatever "begins" with
the Cartesian res cogitans
(thinking thing)
"ends" with the Kantian
res per se (think in itself)...
one even begins to hope:
that's a tautological
statement...

              but now...
cogitansper se,
i.e. thinking does not equate
itself to either being
or the in-itself...
since thinking can
become corrupt...
           since thinking is
corrupt...

           ergo?

             well a revisionist take
on Descartes via Kant is
worthy:

     supposing cogitans = esse per se...
   res ≠ res,
via                 res cogitans ≠ res per se...
when, once upon a time
res cogitans = res per se...
yes, once upon a time
a thinking thing would equate
to a thing in itself...

                    not diesetage...

we are liberated by the "knowledge"
that man's thought is: "know"
when his ontology is
the metaphor extract from
the natural world,
and not from the ontological
world, barricaded by
technology and...
the craft of a 3D tongue
of nuance...

              there's no verb attachment
as simply put as: cogito ergo sum...

    it requires
the "thing", i.e. res...

                         a res cogitans
non est res per se...
          
                 but thinking can be
deemed a "per se"...
                  to mind:
         there is no ergo-cascade to
fathom....
  since the Kantian reinvigoration
of the Cartesian heave is
equally balanced on
the ergo:
     qua cogito per se qua
                sum per se (est, est)....

ergo?
  res ≠ ego / id...

             but the verb: cogito
is an eventuality of: burrowing...
i.e. clarifying:
both the fathomable depth
of thought, and the unfathomable
shallowness of being...

we "awaited" the discovery
of the D.N.A. helix...
but never "expected"
  james watson to be: shunned...
thank god i didn't
take part in one of those
D.N.A. investments of
collecting data...

well sure... why would you read
"modern" philosophy...
i.e. something by a German
from the 17th or 18th century
apart from Nietzsche...

   you'd become stiff!
quadratic!

                mind you...
everything spoken in the English
tongue from
the 20th century onwards,
apart from:

love, love me do...
you know i love you
i'll always be true
so please, love me do...


rhyme:
always the highest source
of wisdom (purpose
for life, and subsequent
invigoration for it
being pursued) in
the English tongue...
so... who am i to judge?

i'm just a stiff collar
remnant of what would have
become a "what-if"
schutzstaffelbüro -
ja... die S.S.B.

i know... fetischgrund;
as implanted into me
by my history teacher,
in England...
while studying
WWII...
she said:
pointing at me...
out of all of you...
he would be the only
one left alive...

hell...
   i'm still trying to find
a grimace to live with
to counter her.

p.s. but i thought
the englischspreschenpublikum
   gesucht für, die "knotted-si-si"?
nein?
             ooh... wäß schønde!
Michael Feb 2022
How do you know what you know?
You know by stubbing your toe
Induction principle
Back to the future go
It’s epistemological

Is it all empirical?
Is it all observable?
I’m asking how
Atheist’s count
With numbers being abstractable

The induction rule
Is a Christian tool
By stubbing my toe
Against the bedpost
It comes into view

By stubbing your toe
Extrapolate, tow
The past is not material
In motion, or emotional
It’s not biological

Whose brains do we use
To arrive at truth?
No matter how hard you strive
Atheism’s a lie
Given an internal sleuth

We move from the toe that’s shod
To the toothpaste proof of God
Is insistence matter or motion?
This only causes commotion
To insist that you can live like a god

To persist that is false
It's to stumble instead of waltz
Yeah, there’s a dichotomy
And it’s a lobotomy
Reasoning becomes schmaltz

It’s tautological schism
An unreasonable prison
To assume atheism at all
Isn’t reasonable
He exists and that’s not fideism

Jesus the reason for reason
The fool only causes commotion
In everything you contemplate
Even Pyrrho and Descartes can’t help you escape
Because doubting isn’t matter or in motion

So don't assume like Hume
Or become a skeptic, that's hectic
So how do you know?
Thank God for me stubbing my toe
This is a poem written to get others to consider in what worldview the induction principle can exist. Atheism is matter and motion, and by the denial of God you lose the right to appeal to the abstract realm. So how is induction matter or motion? So to the impossibility of the contrary only the Christian worldview can import the induction principle. It is at this point that David Hume (an atheist philosopher) became a skeptic.
Hank Helman Jul 2018
I went to the doctor.
She said my obsession with *** was killing me.

How so, I asked,
And thought about yesterday.

The drugs you take to get *****, get high and get hard,
Eventually your artifice
Will burst your boldness, she said

To die of a balloon burst heart,
In the slingshot of ******,
To exit while rocketing into Nietzsche's abyss,
My eyes clenched,
Ten billion endorphins,
An ****** inferno,
This fusion of soul and pleasure,
God's great whisper tickling my ear,
A lover's last kiss,
The tautological tango of two wet tongues,
A soft breast,
An alert ******,
The slick and slippery slide into madness,
All of this as the one memory I will reclaim for all eternity,
How could I not demand that death follow, I said.

To each his own, she said
I would rather die dancing.
There is a mind bustle where the last thought/experience you have is the thing that stays with you for all time. How do you want to go. In the future we are going to be able to choose our time of death --accidents obviously excepted-- so how do you want to go?
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2019
why would a logical argument be worthy
of an adjective?

no real reason:

propositions are a set of premises,

which allow, set premises
to suit a proposition,

but prepositions are
are not a set of premises,
they are: "prerequisites"

well... take away the prefix
pre-
and then study "logic"
on the grounds of what
is left...

         -requisite...
ideal...

       -mise...

hmm, so how does the thesaurus
overcome
the mathematician?
pre-requisite is a tautological
complex: implying?

what is prior is also
a requisite...
hence a pre-prerequisite...

premise?
the same meaning
(or prerequisite)
but said "meaning"...
truth? contra good?

these days "the" good
is precisely "that",
i.e. a "good"...
it's neither good or,
or nor good:
worth as much as
a testimony to
interrogate, "evil"...

good isn't good is good,
evil isn't evil is evil,
truth:
a regurgitation of facts,
"made to feel"
claustrophobic...
or... some other adjective...

the Hoover dam:
is not a metaphor,
but the state of affairs
that is the 21st century
in its infancy
in having to inherit
the 20th century...

the 20th century didn't exactly
culminate in a zenith
with the atomic bomb...
but...
Oppenheimer...
citing the Hindu poetic
prophesy:

   jetzt ich bin werden
tod; die zerstörer von
                  welten...

i assure you:
give a mathematician
a thesaurus
is equivalent to
giving a ******* addict
a ******* toothpick
to requisite with
a missing pre-
toward a snort...

i.e.:
isn't a prerequisite
a premise?

if that is the case...
or isn't...
what is the entomological
basis for the synonym
with the prefix pre-
to associate an "anomaly"
of -requisite
and -mise?

mathematics lacks
nuance,
or at least there's no need
for nuance
to be grounded in
what is regarded
as: ultimatum:

true / false...

         beyond good & evil,
there is only
the good is true /
the good is false &
evil is true / evil is false...

but...

  why is good,
given the predicate
of the...
the definite article?

in casual expressions...
the good & evil...
well...

     there's God & the devil...
there is never
an "abstract" reference
point in "a" good,
or an "evil"...

the good and God,
"contra"
evil and the devil...

            borrow...
i look upon mathematical
strict rubric and
extract two letters,
like Socrates did in
Plato's theaetetus...

i see:
  the g(o)od and God,
  evil and the (d)evil...

  DO...

broken baron of the hunch
upon the wheel of
the recitation
of the last compensation
of thought:
dislodged from being
and made to
"repent",
in the form of confession...

typos plague elaborating
logical statements
in rigid rubrics...

coincidentally:
http://www.bu.edu/linguistics/UG/course/lx502/_docs/lx502-propositional%20logic.pdf

2.

if φ
is a wff,

3.
   ¬φ
is a wff (well-formed formula)

a negation is as "true"
as an affirmation...

4.
if φ and ψ
are wff, then (φ ∧ ψ),
(φ ∨ ψ), (φ → ψ),
(φ ↔ ψ) are wffs

5. nothing is a wff...

wait a minute...
why do "we" need for the proof
at point 5.?

weren't we dealing with
φ and ¬φ begin with?
so where does ψ fit into all of this,
"logic"?!

what is ψ?!
typo?
if ∧ = conjunction,
∨ = disjunction
→ = implication
↔ = equivalence...

the **** is ψ doing in place
of ¬φ?!

yeah, i might be drunk,
but i still have some screws
to count as involved
in my head being intact...

(φ ∧ ¬φ),
(φ ∨ ¬φ, (φ → ¬φ),
(φ ↔ ¬φ)

are more accurate
statements of "logic"
than

(φ ∧ ψ),
(φ ∨ ψ), (φ → ψ),
(φ ↔ ψ)

conjunction:
   2 events existing together
in a contradiction

disjunction:
two clear alternatives...

φ & ψ are not alternatives,
in such that
  only ¬φ is the only alternative
of φ, whereby ψ could
be presumed to be a
covert alternative: snyonym of φ...

the same logical conclusion
comes within the confines
of ¬φ, φ within the term implication
and equivalence...

but how the **** does
ψ fit into this?

nope... sorry... Picasso makes
more sense right about now...
honest to God,
or a gyrating ***** i'd
prefer to a slug of kalimotxo
down my throat:

look at me...
i too can regurgitate crap
in an alley while *******,
and i don't have to exactly
call it a university publication!

please! please!
find me a point where ψ
is worth the logical argument
in this university paper...
i can't find it!

   i hope it's a ******* typo...
but i doubt it;
i'd love to claim that
i made some purposive
typos of my own...
Aditya Roy Jul 2019
Drowning like a fair Kafka in air, with some self-esteem
Writing and reflection turned out on the locks of a dead door
Creating and lending Creedence, to the top floor that reflects on the day
Veritable trust and doubts are broken, trusting that this will the day I die
Riding on a mirror reflection, collecting and toiling
Approving and oleaginous oceans, broken oil and water
Painted like the pinned skies, reds and blues are the reasons that I cannot go on
The thunder and lightning  tautological to Zeus, and the Greek hermaphrodites can take more
These virgins of blossoming breaths that burst like the fireballs of chasing the wind
Calling up and the thespians in the actor studios
And the remnants of stages, broken by the masked Venetian
Ceilings and reconnoitering the convict's dream
He lay in his bed like an insect that had learned to dream, but, learned to spread it's wing first
Breaking his boredom with some mirages and middle ages to read
Occult screams, "Eat cake!"
He talks about how compassionate creation is and its factotum, that it will be better that way. At the entrance to the Vernarth mouth, within its buccal cubic meters, the Zig Zag Universe, the promoter that caused the Duoverse, broke out. Here are born the thoughts of the eternity of him; not of the brain and discernment of it, psyche or mind. It exists in a present that will be distributed without end or beginning, in the holistic of the anticipated existence of the being itself, so that everything holistically arises from the mouth of Vernarth, becoming the light of its ejector and luminance thought, being of some In this way, the Zigzag Universe that emerges from the protruding access of its mouth and that manifests itself in some change of quantum physics in a state of hyper-connectivity and always present. The Zig Zag, coexists in the eclectic of the variability of its angles, creating regularities in its time and displacement. For the good of the results and the parallelism of its translation as a promoter of the Duoverse, based on the holistic that brings together the effect of the word-fact, but eminently aimed at an extra-language morphology of its intellect, rather in the kinetics of language of the human and physical material zigzag, typical in various line segments of lightning and space storms, resembling his lost and bleeding soul in full battle at the site of Gaugamela. The other is his salvation to the Council of Patmos, being already Installed in the Eclectic and invisible portal of the Evangelist of Saint John, levitating in his sacred Katapausis basaltic cavern, in the Patmos archipelago (Koumeterium Messolonghi, Chapter 16 / page 114. Editorial Palibrio -  USES). They would find themselves in communion with the archeo clan, which would resemble his appropriate ectoplasm; thus each one forming a unique part in the masonry dictated to redirect them towards their messianic labors at this stage of the ascension. Vernarth; being aware that he will have to enter the cave, after having ceased his work on hold for three months. He continues to be fleshed out in the myriad wars and parasychological regressions, he will remain in a daze to dedicate himself to the beautiful open spaces towards a horizon…, a neighbor to Palaeolithic and astronomical painting. In the colors of his mathematical sentence, he will capture the spiritual intensity that inspired Saint John to build the temple near his cave of the Apocalypse on the island of Patmos. The saint appears only on certain days looking at him from afar to encourage him in his progress ..., he is seen as a beautiful young man dressed in a tunic of delicate pink tones, in whose delicacy he repeats psalms of the angel that normally accompany this Evangelist around him, with the green and blue colors of the quadrinomial landscape of the sky that appears in redemption beyond the glory of a resurrection, rather super in spiritual intelligence.

The eclectic and invisible portal is the facet of the face of light, after the invisible that manages to be appreciated with the principle of transferring its connectivity of the immaterial with the material, but made in the finished quality of "Merciful", deriving everything in what supports the splendor of the facts and their objective analysis, by no means the same, since the Zigzag universe originates theory or thoughts from the perspective of external language and unites it holistically through the optimal results, always imponderable and categorical, to follow them and attract them to eternal spiritual good. Being restrictive in the fact of the action although it is subdivided in its executability ..., it will continue to be timeless, therefore eternal, in the hands of a universe of thick eternity and stationary death.
The final communion of Zig Zag with the Duoverse, will make of this key momentum to replace the Universe of the former Verthinian world, to inflect the continuous present, more in the distance of the limits that has to originate than by a simple gesturing cliché of the disbelief, abounding more than a universe that is created in eternity, and that will never resurface as a physical dimension. The successive potentiality of this holistic theory subtracts actions and not facts, as it always culminates at the threshold of infinity, always beginning and never ending, and then starting again in a present that is reintegrated into the access of the embouchure and not the brain, since it must be limited in its shock and subsequent confusion of language-emotion and feeling, for the change of all eternal emotion, always going hand in hand with the light of the unequivocal and assertive, even of the constant hyper cyclical of a present without a present, overcoming barriers even though it was considered tautological. perfect, however, of an existence of death, in the Verthian world, which considers the overcoming of death with Christian eternity, and with the vicissitudes of the Pneuna that drags breaths of life, although nothing exists inserted in the World of the existentialist Eclectic Portal in Patmos.
Eternal Existentialism
Eternal Existentialism:

He talks about how compassionate creation is and its factotum, that it will be better that way. At the entrance to the Vernarth mouth, within its buccal cubic meters, the Zig Zag Universe, the promoter that caused the Duoverse, broke out. Here your thoughts of eternity are born; not from your brain and discernment, psyche or mind. It exists in a present that will be distributed without end or beginning, in the holistic of the anticipated existence of the being itself, so that everything holistically arises from the mouth of Vernarth, becoming the light of its ejector and luminance thought, being of some In this way, the Zigzag Universe that emerges from the protruding access of its mouth and that manifests itself in some change of quantum physics in a state of hyper connectivity and always present. The Zig Zag, coexists in the eclectic variability of its angles, creating regularities in its time and displacement. For the good of the results and the parallelism of its translation as a promoter of the Duoverse, based on the holistic that brings together the effect of the word-fact, but eminently aimed at an extra-language morphology of its intellect, rather in the kinetics of language of the human and physical material zigzag, typical in various line segments of lightning and space storms, resembling his lost and bleeding soul in full battle at the site of Gaugamela. The other is his salvation to the Council of Patmos, being already Installed in the Eclectic and invisible portal of the Evangelist of Saint John, levitating in his sacred basaltic Katapausis cavern, in the Patmos archipelago (Koumeterium Messolonghi, Chapter 16 / page 114. Editorial Palibrio -  USES). They would find themselves in communion with the archaean clan, which would resemble its proper ectoplasm; thus each one forming a unique part in the masonry dictated to redirect them towards their messianic labors in this stage of the ascension. Vernarth;  being aware that he will have to enter the cave, after having ceased his work on hold for three months. He continues to fester in the myriad wars and parasychological regressions; he will remain in a daze to dedicate himself to the beautiful open spaces towards a horizon ..., a neighbor to rock painting and astronomy. In the colors of your mathematical prayer, you will be capturing the spiritual intensity that inspired Saint John to build the temple near his cave of the Apocalypse on the island of Patmos. The saint appears only on certain days looking at him from afar to encourage him in his progress ..., he is seen as a beautiful young man dressed in a tunic of delicate pink tones, in whose delicacy he repeats psalms of the angel that normally accompany this Evangelist around him, with the green and blue colors of the quadrinomial landscape of the sky that appears in redemption beyond the glory of a resurrection, rather super in spiritual intelligence.

Eclectic and invisible portal is the facet of the face of light, after the invisible that manages to be appreciated with the principle of transferring its connectivity of the immaterial with the material, but made in the finished quality of "Merciful", deriving everything in what supports the splendor of the facts and their objective analysis, by no means the same, since the Zigzag universe originates theory or thoughts from the perspective of external language and unites it holistically through the optimal results, always imponderable and categorical, to follow them and attract them to eternal spiritual good. Being restrictive in the fact of the action although it is subdivided in its executability ..., it will continue to be timeless, therefore eternal, in the hands of a universe of thick eternity and stationary death.

The final communion of Zig Zag with the Duoverse, will make of this key momentum to replace the Universe of the former Verthinian world, to inflect the continuous present, more in the distance of the limits that has to originate than by a simple gesturing cliché of the disbelief, abounding more than a universe that is created in eternity, and that will never resurface as a physical dimension. The successive potentiality of this holistic theory subtracts actions and not facts, as it always culminates at the threshold of infinity, always beginning and never ending, and then starting again in a present that is reintegrated into the access of the embouchure and not the brain, since it must be limited in its shock and subsequent confusion of language-emotion and feeling, for the change of all eternal emotion, always going hand in hand with the light of the unequivocal and assertive, even of the constant hyper cyclical of a present without a present, overcoming barriers even though it was considered tautological. Perfect, however, of an existence of death, in the Verthian world, which considers the overcoming of death with Christian eternity, and with the vicissitudes of the Pneuna that drags breaths of life, although nothing exists inserted in the World of the existentialist Eclectic Portal in Patmos.
Duoverse – Part One
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2019
what is cultural darwinism?
well...
it's something bound
to the overt-extraction
of metaphorical-application
of natural world
       (natürlichwelt)

examples, onto
           its misapplication
in the ontological world
(ontologischwelt)...

i.e.?
   the menschweltansicht:
human world view
is not... the natural world
view...

how could it?

  isn't the human world
insulated from the natural
world, but a membrane
of technology?

so... the cultural darwinism
of: the easily said tongue...
why is there a persistence
to extract metaphorical-ontology
from the natural world,
and impose it upon
the human world,
and even suggest:
that man is to behave
as naturally,
as a ******* pack
of hyenas?

            yes i see the natural
world,
      but i am a specimen
of the a-natural,
godly...
                    my natural
confinenement
is very similar to zoological
cage:
  which is...

the shadow of the soul
that incubates
the mind,
and doesn't translate
into a body...

- there is a natural world...
but there's also
an ontological world,
in that the natural world
will never fathom
the membrane
intermediate
of human ingenuity...

but i am still,
dragged to the *******
bottomless pit of
people not reading
enough poetics:
worried about snippets
of bogus journalism
in the grand "o fortuna"
of... an excess of metaphorical
extraction
of behavior...

what the hell has
any marxism to do away
with "culture" in the compound
of "cultural-marxism"?
mob rule...
and...
   snippets...

- but what is cultural
darwinism
?
   the, "dominant" culture of
spending too much
time looking up a baboon's ***!
that's what!
yes, there is a
                natural world-view...
but its "nature"
is as "natural" to our
per se study within
the base of ontology that:
we're left to exploit
metaphors of the natural world,
and hope to invite them
back into our:
segregation from it...

- but there's also an
   ontological world-view...
and when i call it
an ontological-,
  yes: the psychological study
of man is already bound
to a fondness for the zoological
specimen:
caged, readily available as:
protesting the need to speek,
when having to deviate
from the cunning (and e. e. cummings'
worth of thought)...

ontology: **** sigma...
psychology? **** psi.

  look... i even prepared
a ******* logo for you...
if psychology is ψ...
                      ontology is Σ...

because when i get worked up,
and i feel my heart become
less of a pouch / cushion
and a vector-like stone...
i know i need to write these words...

i'm just tired of cultural darwinism,
yes,
   there was once a natural world
which man inhabited,
but that world is no more...
what was once a natural world-view
has become an ontological world-view:
and the two are different:
because... like it or not...
we're more inorganic entities
than organic entities...
given that:
            no organic entity will
ever study geology,
   o.k. o.k. pseudo-inorganic,
quasi-inorganic, whatever!

            tell a ******* dog to write
woof!
   as close as you'll ever get it:
dog's paw dipped in an ink-well,
the paw dipped in ink
pressed onto a piece of paper,
hey presto! woof!

i just don't like where these
ronin metaphor-extractions
were coming from...
        no man would have made
such ontological
endeavours
         treating himself as a
noumenon / res per se...
or a precursor that was
the Cartesian res cogitans...
to have to subsequently...
expose himself to a poetics
of the ontological hierarchy of:
being worth the acquisitive-
of the metaphors from nature...

i find "too many" metaphorical
extractions from the natural
world view to mould
the ontological world view with...
given that the natural world
view has no buffer zone's worth
of the technological
cut-off point to compliment
itself with a mirroring
complexity to engage with...

the natural world doesn't even
possess a tautological
crux...
        which the ontological world
possesses...
given we're world that:
there are variants of
                   the infinitesimal "nuances"
of an animals call...

hell: as a man, i can make
  infinitesimal nuances
that are: miatakes, as i can make "nuances",
which are a tautology;

but as someone bothered
by ontology:
i "hate" being reduced
to a "natural world"
extraction of: applied metaphors...
which makes...
applied metaphysics... what?
  
ramble ramble and no seed
sowed...
  just a wagon of towed
    rotten cabbages to sieve
through,
on the basis of:
   finding that drum-kit
worth of human skulls...
and some prospect of backgammon.
Mateuš Conrad May 2020
at those special moments -
when one will be finally able to stand
above the gravestone that denotes:
the first portion of the 20th century...

once "they" die off: the second world war
veterans... the holocaust primo levis...
when all pomp and ceremony
dies off...

see... i don't mind wearing these ******
masks no more...
forgetting that i'm still wearing
one...
   face mask... niqab... face mask...
niqab...
i don't mind because i always tell myself:

the moment i see the next akin
idiot to me... then the fog of bother lifts...
i was stocking up...
2 litres of ms. amber donning
a corset and i was:
like a russian "neugeld" oligrarch...
has the money:
but can't contemplate the mere idea
of "altgeld"...

    wenn unter der krähen
          (definite that! - not...
   indefinite that of die)
                 zu beste ist zu... krächzen...
   wie sie!

             oh no no no... english is only...
halb-die-gleichung:
the rest is: alt-vater englisch...
            mongrel saxon:
                              mischlingsächsisch...

what's a... i don't know...
let's ask...
        welche ist eine sächsisch
  (i guess the same rule applies...
a forgotten loss...
        aN able striptease!
    hence the ein and eine "debate")...
  
       let's ask a spitz... or a ruthenen...
about... anglo-mischling: "sächsisch"...
the great postcard baron...
the great immigrant...
wasser-eves...

             english is too constrained
to the children being allowed freedoms...
that... well: we need to feed the hyenas first...
might as well have... walking giggles in storage...
ethics comes with: 2nd thoughts...
a: "what if" scenarios...
but some people can't escape...
the bulldozer's first plough...

      like: this was expected:
without any high-brow intentions...
no... diese ist es!

well it's not like feminism was going to
come elbow-to-elbow: arm-in-arm:
cosmopolitan solidarity ******* any time soon...
the women of the world: ahem... ah ha ha: "unite"!
yeah... white knights...
and intellectual feminists...
because... a bulgarian woman is getting ******
silly...

or not... depends who's being the doubtful thomas...
secterian...
i went... she was about to play me some
cheap ******* muzak...
i kind of forgot about *******...
i grabbed her phone and put on:

perplex - toys (felguk remix)...
that didn't sink in...
            so i switched gears... hellraiser II:
hellbound - something to think about...
and yes stepheno rey can have all the books
he likes... but... unlike...
his protege... prodigy... barrel of laughs of:
waiting for output!
clive barker: the cult of music...
   no stephano rey film has...
anything near... a competing soundtrack...

who minds pinhead being a woman
on a page and a man in 3D... not me...
             so we listened to that...
and... i cucked myself into a cuddle but...
let's face it... i wasn't into it...
drinking got the better of me...
and she wasn't into it:
because the english: valkyrie of feminism
weren't coming: and she was bulgarian:
so sloppy seconds worth of:
ottoman nostalgia... etc...

        trevor something - into your heart...
and it just... i was once told that tree-hugging
a birch tree was harmonious with
the universe...
         well... starve yourself from
a body... of the yin... and you're the yang...
******* is the last of your problems...
putting on socks or underwear never feels
the same... as when... what can occupy an hour's
worth... kissing eyelids... teasing the nose...
the collar bones...

no cheap **** music...
it's enough that i wake up with a numb hand
because: that's my third tier of pillow...
but... yes... face-masks...

keeping the "hoard" at bay...
  hood... facemask... a complete niqab-ninja replica...
and then a list of excuses...
when... staging... a fictional bank-robbery...
******* hell! by the end of this "quarantine":
i'll be converted to jainism!
and i'll use a face-mask as a religious
excuse like a turban and a sikh might
when working on a construction site
when the debate crosses path with:
a safety helmet "*******"...

a spike in... jainist bank robbers:
'coz' corona & ****...
       hell... i'll find all the right excuses
to wear these men-yoroi:
after the quarantine is "over"...
      hell... out of an argument:
from "amnesia"...
        and jainism... and whatever *******
rainbow i'll be willing to pull out
of my ***: bonus - toothpick for driftwood!

when was the last time i visited a brothel?
citing these words...
my cis-genitals are tingling and...
apex... spawning-man: less the spider...
cis-trans-cis-trans: lessons in chemistry...
do i really need all that sort
of intimate 1hour flings of imitation
"planned parenthood" ploughing?
                there's that... ***** dunk into
a tissue / rubber that's also...
by the logic of the conservatives:
a genocide...
                  why yes! once it leaves
the male... and enters the female...
      there's no "transition" period:
there's no "being pregnant" - rather:
the immediacy of giving birth!
and calling it: a he and a son of sam...
and...
             well... **** it!
let's just skip to the ******* down
the drain and: genocide / abortion cocktail
the next few words...

            i guess i'll have to...
go enough times so that...
i will remember a ******* more fondly
than i could ever remember a past girlfriend...
because: at least the memories can be
concise: potent... detached from...
having invested: cheared a piece of me
(metaphysically)... while she...
gets another tattoo cipher of me having
****** her... blah blah blah....

the lore of: a monopoly on purity -
well... chance are...
a ******* will probably disclose to you
the... mystery of the incarnation
with, words, like:
i get s.t.d. checks on a regular basis...
whereas...
                        the pride and broom aspect
of the:
  if you're looking for a dangerous man...
look for... a sexualised man...
       will probably be something akin to...
the gonorrhea cess-pool of teenage angst /
the ******* ferris-wheel of...
love poems: idealistic love poems...
rhyming couplets...

          went to a brothel to touch some
elgin marbles... walked out... surprised that
some still had a breath in them...
     crustacean zenith...
                 simping and cam girl and milk
and no honey... and "connections" and...
more thrills from frying a ******* - wet -
in a live socket: spastic ******: blunt... yeah...
em... puritanical *******:
like old school views of *******:
same ****: different cover...
             with the aid of a shadow: passable...

otherwise: perhaps... the mere focus on...
water... still... water...
the clarifying soberness of an immaculate
transation...
this whole: boyfriend / hubbie...
girlfriend / wife murk of the self splintered...
the mutual tug-o'-war...
and the running joke passed on by
one glaswegian: to no other:

how was copper-wire invented...
two picts arguing over a penny on the pave'...
funny ha ha and at the same time
emotionally *******...
and competitive h'american...
hard-on blues...

aus die schwarzwald...
        
                limbozunge...
PFefferzufälligdalmatinerbombardierung:
alias?­ the blitz over london:
since... st. paul's will stand... will stand...

no... english is not enough... sometimes...
even: among the natives...
or... not so native... but there are the V'elsh...
the vild: veirder zoops...
again: alias: wolk... ****'s sake:
Dickens' 'em bride! neine gut?
more like: nei gut...

             ******* hing'leash...
some "proper": yorkshire brew and scones...
and... cringe nostalgia...
and... nostalgia of cringe...
          pwopp'eh: Ęglish... big'O' on the
boing-boing "dapper"...
'stupid and inefficient person' clothing
line... by the name of: DUFFER...

           a dandy warhol is is...
tautology... although: with no hindsight over
than: the death of warhol...
the dandy warhols: the band?
a tautological play on words: since...
no warhol: beside the significance of the surname...
the surname suggests:
gravity of worth akin / equivalent to:
da vinci...
                  unlike: warchild...
a mrs. bucket contra: mrs. bouquet...
bou-kay...
                 and there's a tau involved... in all of...
that?!

now is the right time to finish the last
tier of slug... and bow...
and bow out.
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2020
i used my first name and
my second name;
i have a surname because:
there's not better blackie
to fit into: SMITH...

and because...
i used matthew...
and conrad...
there was a "someone"
and a "somewhere"
thast deemed it
worthwhile to
let me hide behind
a name likes... Hades...

for all that see these words...
ego-mania...
only yesterday i tried
to k.o. to sleep in a boxing match
with the nuance:

i am the reincarnation
of st. matthew, the levi...

i am the 12th of the count...
may that i am,
come into an avenue of cinema
to give us... 1200 years
of history...
before the 2nd incarnate of
the gentile messiah comes...

let me be the 2nd incarnation
of st. matthew...
the levi: the tax-collector priest...
let me be the 2nd incarnation
of this minor detail...

let me see what history sees
and what i see:
how matthew concentrated
on money...
in Caravaggio of my debut...

this today and now...
cashless society...
i am missing my charon's bribe...
i'm sure that in the past...
the poor dead were not cremated
with two coins of gold
over their eyes...
the poor weren't allowed
to die with shoelace lead
laid over their eyes!

i cried when i saw mel gibson's
the passion of the christ...
it must have been an important
movie: since it used two definite articles...
to never be mistaken...
but if i am the 1st of the twelve princes...
and if i'm the 7th?

what better fiction that entertaining
the sober rigid, delusion
of the Hindu concept of reincarnation?
this **** is like ******* and smoked
******... hindu reincarnation
narratives!
because i am playing the convincing role
of a minor reincarnation!

i share a name...
a name i also share with conrad of masovia...
and if i went full catholic?
what would be my confirmation name?
i'd take the church, quiet seriously...
not pious... not that much...
Isidore...

in the infiite number of bodies...
the finite number of souls...
that's what reincarnation implies...
to no "me" to a "me":
this being the me of measles?

this demeaning crux of fathoming the wave...
while listening to queen's
princes of the universe...
when the kurgan rides into manhattan...

i wrote this so long ago...
that when i wrote this, being as drunk as i was...
harsh... i'm yet to climb into this sort
of sweet-stew sewer grog of ****
oh look... stew and grog are not...
tautological...
better phrased: no better phrasing...
a tautology is perhaps...
synonyms very close together?

the crimson red...
daft... minus point for being just "near".

— The End —