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Got Guanxi Jan 2016
insides dead,
driftwood emotions,
oceans of regret.
swept under the waves.
Betterdays,
in the horizon.
Hard to find them
in the abyss
of bad habits
that i’ve inhabited.
Agoraphobic,
closed off,
like a treacherous day.
Doors locked,
subdued,
constant moods,
brooding storms in submarines,
under the weather
&
under the sea.
show me the coral reef,
of beautful feelings,
and creatures,
the features of life.
Evade me by day,
and escape me at night.
i can’t fathom the colloquial,
of the same old ****.
i’m down with my nothing,
and i’ll sink with the ship.
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2016
it's hard to imagine gin gin gin a pseudo-ariθmeτic behind every coupled word utilising the Logos, a -logy, because what is the motivational word behind it, truly? it could be any word, mind me saying. logistically speaking each compound aligning itself to some -logy (logistics) will know the parameters, in question π, the infinity basis, the irrational ever-after, 3 point whatever, we can scrutinise with millimetre, and the infinitely regressive divide of the circle, hell, heading toward the nanometre, but still the compact, intact π... but there has to be some ariθmetic involved! the easiest to understand logic of mathematics is buried in arithmetic... but words are too large to suit patterns in consistently changing: try fitting a word like apple through a keyhole denoting five one three (513 / five hundred and thirteen, arithmetic conjunctions, spelling)... in the end all you need is A... that's what happens when you riddle the stupidity, you can't make-up 26 units with the craze of ∞, not so much 1 0 1 0 0 1 1 0 0 1 1 0 0 0  1, no algorithm bouncy castle: no hip hip hooray! i mean, what logic is there behind these philosophical words, what arithmetic? what words are required to say 1 + 1 = 2 ontologically? i have an etymological example, but prior to the example i was told to state: certain phonetic encodings are for aesthetic purposes, the C and the K, musicology, cat, clever, clover, kettle, keenly etc. - existence of aesthetic purposes, and dyslexia - we write in complex encoding for the encoding to look the ***** - otherwise we'd be writing like salvaged Latin of Giuseppe Gioacchino Belli (famous for his sonnets, e.g.): the city (acronym c, i know, unitary acronym, the wonder) - both S & K whenever the lady minds to change her posture of SIX P's, popes, priests, princes, prostitutes, parasites and the poor - in poem, the lost aesthetic, excess spelling, no diacritical reprimand: starting with the word cappuccino - perfectó! (ó, not like a Polish u morph, but like a shove, a throw, like an olé! tremor prior to the gesture... a Mexican wave at a football match, the build up... oooooooooo lé! that included no W - see, the tetragrammaton coupled with a systematic vocabulary does wonders, hence the necessary shortening... OH LÉ! catch a breath, catch a breath... take two. the two hatches of the tetragrammaton are more than a deja vu, they're more like jugglers of vowels, the first extends, the second curbs - i might not love the Jews but i love the geometry of YHWH... love it to the extreme, never have i come across people who desire nationhood but are so reluctant to settle there, the intelligent ones preferring exile (the exodus) than hope for a genesis (Zionism). i swear i was supposed to write an etymological poem, sidetracked mentioning Giuseppe and cappuccinos... chinos or khaki? never mind...
vio sentite una madre. ammalappena la cratura c'ha
ffatta ha cquarche ggiorno, ggià è la prima cratura der contorno,
e ssi jje dite che nun è, vve mena -
he salvaged the ******* Titanic of all Titanics and left it aesthetically ugly - look at the alphabet, ugly as **** in the practice of composition, what did he do? look at it! gee gee, if two letters joined necessary, clones, there exists no law to coerce them into a grapheme, like in cappuccino - or Gucci, or Coco Chanel - can't make a tongue-tie within cappuccino if you don't know the basics: like Chino, Chai Tea Latte... siberian grizzly... rrrrraaa... mimic schizophrenia,  the best advice is to mimic a Roman Forum, democracy, make writing democratic, this is democracy, we will not have authoritarian rule of a rigid narrator! burn 'em! burn 'em! no peeping toms here, no omni-voyeurism. but you'd be lucky to pick out the slobbering with accents to a piquant stress worthy of distinguished notation, say it's all Cockney and you'll throw pears down a few ladders; oh yeah, ****'s stable: Coco Shanel but written Chanel - and we're selling chastity while burrowing in chimneys on the shly.

seriously... an etymological poem, using one word:
skleroza* (yes, colon and italics after, a heresy, i know,
but a necessary double emphasis).

paranoia and pronoun usage: the notorious they and he.

so, skleroza, etymological root-prefix: sklera-
or, simply sclera, i.e. adjectives opaque,
fibrous, protective - Westminster Abbey bells at
a wedding - ding ****, ding **** -
so relating to the eye, pertaining if you must -
now what to do with the suffix -roza?
well... there's Barbarossa - pinkish, i say,
although stressed to a geographic region a rose
is actually róża - yes, rose - couple them
together and you get: a rosy blankness -
simulation of momentary dementia -
****! where did i leave the keys?! skleroza
is a short-lived memory gap, a momentary
loss of memory, a funny sort, means you're
abstracting, abstracting a pain akin to
the arithmetic of, e.g. 1 + √43 + 23 - 100 x 2 ÷ 50 + 1000...
a weird sort of pain trying to work that one out...
so, to the limit of the what's behind skleroza,
utilising the arithmetic of etymology:
a rosy blankness - the automated form of forgetting,
that's protective, in terms of a permanent association
of forgetfulness - the easiest burden:
so there you have it, etymology, the logic infuriated with
linear associations and modulations using +, -, x and ÷.
anne collins Jan 2013
Oh to be young and un-requited
Oh to be young and especially invited
All the room smelled of smoke and longing
All the world maintained it’s indifference to the dawning
Of my newly opened eyes

Pale skin against equal pallor
Cowardice foiled with equivalent valor
Crimson scars on ivory parchment
Lost icebergs, lost Titanics
Of newly vacated oceans

Reckless touches result in wrecked armor
Desperate clutches on a soldier’s shoulders
Ruins of empires strewn among our streets
Seven dead businessmen electrocuted for greed
Of the homes that they built with coins

Pages burned in the flames of indifference
All that is slaughtered for love is heaven sent
A ghost twisting through memories
Haunting the April showers and the November breeze
Of the summer of our lives
Rahul Luthra May 2014
Snow, water and sun set
This is one view I will never forget
The mountains towering before and behind me
You want to wake up to a panoramic view? Staying here is the key
A small city in the backdrop
Cafés if you're hungry, malls if you want to shop
Pigeons swooping down for a piece of bread
Reminds me of how grateful i am to be well fed
Kids and adults both come here for a break
Sitting peacefully on the side and admiring the vast lake
The mountain is a resting body with the clouds as its blanket
But it rests peacefully, unlike Titanics destructive doomberg that sank it
Far across I can see the boats sailing to their destination
Can't believe this whole picture is within one nation...
...
..
.
if
she
loved
me
she would
let me love you
she had to be
paid with
pain
am
i
in
sane


ok
my
love
her
lips
let
me
take sips

she lets me sink her deep
her titanics are my remains
lights on
or
lights off

i love her
we love her
our insanity clings
to
her
scent
perpetually

this chamber
would not
be
spinning
if
she loved me
?



...
..
.
come hither
...
Man is evil ,
he stole from the tree ,
he ate from the orchard ,
the apple ,
the plum ,
the pear ripe ,
yet no fruit did it bear .

How he builds to his own Glory ,
Majesty power  .
How resplendent his works on the sea's ,
Andrews designs his workshops in the ghost of Brunel ,
' even God himself could not sink ,      
    this ship '

How proud am I that New Yorks lights may shine bright tonight .'


Faster and faster she sailed burning coal fires roared ,
pitch black smoke they roared ,
like an uncontrollable beast foaming at it's mouth ,
Child and mother and Father did not awake ,
or like cattle with rats left to their fate .

Nothing was spared for the great and the good ,
Oysters ,
French ice cream ,
Cream of Barley ,
Hors Doeuvie ,
Roast Duck and apple sauce .
lumps of ice on deck enter this cold spring dawn that could only bring death .

The wealthy sailed in boats that heard Angels cry ,
dolls and chairs ,
Kitchen pots and plates ,
mothers held their babies as salt waters swell .

Only the moon that night could ever give away it's secrets to it's starry hosts .
Children were tossed into sacks ,
then into nets pulled up into the Carpathias  ***** ,
Women wandered like lost souls looking for the're men as dawn broke so did the reality of their never ending night .


New Yorks lights shone bright that night ,
not for Titanics waters did they part ,
Pier fifty four greeted the survivors to such surprise .
The thousands that gathered with grief and questions in their eyes .
How many dead ? the death toll rise,
to this never ending night until the violin played and fell forever silent to the sea ,
nearer my God ,
yes nearer my God to thee .

All that remained the crashing of each wave ,
the Atlantic Ocean swollowed whole ,

Swollowed whole .
Teo Mar 2015
So I find myself standing here
Hundreds of miles from home
With my thoughts akin to fear
And once more, I feel alone

Oh, I miss her far too much
On lonesome nights that should not be
I need only her breath, her touch
She soothes me like the sea

But I must stare at endless blue
A horizon much too long
I'm lost at sea with naught to do
For my swimming skills aren't strong

The waves breathe deeply on the sand
The gulls, they chant her name
I still feel her softness on my hands
Sun, please burn her image in my brain

Far beyond sand castle spires
Titanics slumber, dream and sigh
The treasures other men admire
Dissolve in her blue eyes

The waves will take me back to shore
Or drag me farther out to sea
It barely matters anymore
When the beach is so **** lonely

Water creeps into my nose
I feel like drifting off to sleep
Surrender my breath to Davey Jones
And blind eyed horrors of the deep

Now, I shall dream of only peaceful things
While the Sun burns me to a crisp
I must ignore where it still stings
The spot she last touched my lips

I'll forever miss her more than land
But the oyster hides the pearl
And won't open in my withered hand
While I'm anchored in this world

May the hurricanes and whirlpools
Drag me down to rest
For while in life I was a fool
But in sad dreams I am her best
is now departing Waterloo please stand clear of the doors.'
Past Vauxhall , Queens town it rattles ,
Past ruins of mans grandure ,
Greek Theatres. Of Greek gods
Amphitheatres of Rome ,
Grand stair cases where Titanics. Good walked down ,
arm in arm to tea with Captain Smith .

Where Napolian crowned himself  , Empeorer ,
Placed a crown upon his head at Notra Dame is said .
A Kaiser rode with noble steed through Jeruselems ancient walls ,
he built an arch so all could see how grand ,
how great he was to all.
And we dream like kings , have manic dreams
and build monuments like pyramids in the sky.
Yet butterfly's can't hold them ,
Neither flys ,
Or mice or rats scurry by .
They crawl where man can't find them ,
Yet are there when they fall ,
and sickness and death shall take them,
and where insects crawl ,
Our bodies decay  ,
where sheep and goats don't mix ,
Shifted like  sands of time ,
To green fields or fire ,
by the great Shepheard King Jesus ,
Who died to save us all.
The human race  always searching space
Wasting endless money with their game
Yet deepest ever oceans things never seen
By the human race unknown still remain

Crearures largest than imaginations are
Of entities so massive live still far below
The very oceans they play in just for fun
Without a doubt they live and yet to grow

Man and his foolish ideas of all down there
With twenty five if that percentage of brain
If he had any idea of what exists miles below
He would be rewriting his as if books of same

So far below where man cannot go or know
That would make the Titanics position a puddle
Yet he tells of  of all he knows of what dwells
Beyond his thinking and the as if shallows puzzle

Earth has endless answers to unasked questions
Mans minute amount of  what he thinks does exist
Just little boys with his endlessly ever expensive toys
Down where daylights never seen the likes never kissed

Upon earth man has not scratched the surface yet
Far from as brilliant as he feels he is for sure
Give ot take another million years he might be close
Beyond his imagination below miles below the shore

terrence michael sutton
Copyright  2018
I was glued
At pairs of immature sailors
Constructing titanics.
So huge So fast.
When they took
To sail
For permanence,they sunk.
Take it slow on these relationships.
FAMILIAR STRANGERS

My heart drifts
It pounds hurriedly
I wasn't running
I hear yours too
Beating faster than her shadow
Then I realise
We are adorn with bait
Always running from Predators

Yes, men are no longer taken across
Adorn with heavy necklaces and bracelets
On pants into Titanics
Like modern day fashion
Accompanied with wine from their eyes
They drank to stupor
With whips sounding like applauds
A continuous jubilation

Baited by strangers no more
But the strangers left their culture
Together with their ornaments behind
Invisible ornaments
What an inheritance
Our own now strangers
Our own now prey on us
Even in our Father land
Another jubilation
I thought it was over

©Kporho Vwede Daniel
07067333949
(IG: General Ali Official)
All Rights reserved
Mateuš Conrad May 2020
no point... seeking a freedom
of voice - prior to:
seeking a freedom of thought...
ought i...
but now... a voice is also
a precursor for a video...
better age without a video...
a photograph...
better age without a video...
better a photograph...
and some scribbling to tow along...
and then again: none...
bathrobe blues...
all 'em bathrobe blues...
aiming at the titanic...
rather than the iceberg: FOR ONCE!
two titanics...
beside: the one, and, only... stone...
can you be allowed...
punctuation marks...
surrounding words...
designated into the category of...
conjunctions?

professional express ride into
a swing lift of a worth of a ******...
the professional laydown
licker - the lego architect -
the windowlicker -
the professional lollipop "oops"...
licker...
           the windowcleaner...
the architecture of metallurgy...
the romanian iceberg diggers...
the fruit-pickers....
the sorry state of the... busy bodies...
chant: ****!
chant: communist!
and yet! not invaded... dear england...
by... either!
chant! ****! chant! communist!
but still that... dionysus of syracuse...
                of the... status quo...
plato threw an egg at his head...
"lo! and behold!"
not chicken ever made it out...
from that theatre: question...
worth a strutting!

- join the juice!
join the juice!
join the quasi and the pseudo
and now the trans...
prefixes of a chem. generation...

        cis and trans and:
isnomers....
         hand-shakes and left-over
gloves off mickey...
and mimic and those shadows...
though tetris and onto
the ingenius quote of:
lego cnut denmark...

  ******* up... ******* down...
copernican east:
on the moon...
because of greenwich...
where's the east of / off "where"?
and... where's "here"?

                i.e. is (i) told that's it's 3D...
yet... "somehow" behaves like
there are remains of topology...
2D - "flat's the earth"...
   the warewolves...
the hyenas...
the crows the foxes...
   only then...
are the rats and cockroaches...
somehow... "eventually"...
and... welcome.

    not prior to...
this is: the prior to...
sorry... no... it's simply
exhuasting... watching people
too busy... not being either nostalgic...
existentially lopsided:
up-sides-down...
          fat fingers don't type:
they... typo...
         no new "voice"...
before the video... catacomb...
   and that: which was known,
as writing: yes... that...
that non-invasive medium...
of translating "democracy"...

hellow, good-day, night and so on
and so forth.

— The End —