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emptiness Jun 2014
silencio...
surrounded by her surroundings,
a broaden plane covers the
terrain,
beneath her feet;

a soundless voice hovers
over her,
filling the void
within her
chest;

deserted, blistered and chapped;
surfacing,
from her once tender lips
surface,
her essence made manifest;

embodied in colour,
her crimson pedals,
tip over and tobble like drippleting pebbles,
i ever, study and attempt to endeavor,

her infamous mystery,
that melodious...
symphony,

she whispers
a soft cry,

burrowed in silencio,
she vowed never to let it go; her melody,
dispensed quite gently,
floating along
stream,

accidentally,
it broke out of,
her heart beat's sonata
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2017
i have no name for this observation,
but it's there,
unique, like a prized marble bust
of some famous woodpecker...
pani (ms.), pan (mr.),
           pani (ms., is that yours?)
    panie (a number of mademoiselles),
pań (those umbrellas belong
to the mademoiselles) -
             but then there's also
this bilingual Ypres -
          trenches, miles and miles of
trenches...
              seemingly going nowhere...
a case of never being able to write
an onomatopoeia for touching
an atom... but there is:
Hiroshima... a history of a place,
like Chernobyl... and from the simple
bronze age artifact, poetically speaking,
into Heidegger's concept of dasein,
from a simple: knock knock...
into a unfathomable implosion
and never a knock knock...
but what's opposite of when we once met:
at the tower of babylon...
then from fear: we meet again
at Dubai, at the Shard, at Hanoi...
                    at Petronas...
a full circle... all a fake:
for we have congregated once again,
but not by architectural madness
to scale beyond Everest...
   within a grain of sand:
       at the abstract gain of sand:
at the atom... and from fear:
we reignited that ancient vanity...
to tobble trees with toothpicks...
as we have: tried: having toppled
mountains with buildings...
but still the new crux of our congregation,
the atom...
                    a new biblical
séance - these new endeavours are
not new, they are cloaks to hide the true
point of our congregation,
our new found "togetherness",
which is circumstanced as the evolved
version of Heidegger's "thereness"
(dasein).... and yes: apologies for
the ref., as such: either cite someone
and continue toward the artery,
or convene for Hamlet to gamble
over vine or vein...
                                     then toward
something beyond belittling:

mały (small)
      and subsequently: the worded
microscope, a process of endearing
something small, into something doubly
small, and perhaps even of chubby-cheek
physiogomy:

    malutki
                       maciupki
   maluteńki                    
                                  maleczki
                              (so where is the harshness
of synonyms? where is the stomping
        thesaurus rex now?),
                   maluszki (a kindergarten throng),
        the technical word is:
zdrobnienie -
      and if translated into English,
probably reveals more affection
toward the language than all the scientific
juggling away from atoms and into
sub-atomic                   quasi-atoms...
      has English really become
an anaesthetic? a desensitized medium
where the only nutrient is to tell a flimsy
joke as a role for invoking a comforting
suggestion? at least the Germans don't
feel awckward when telling a bad joke...
     the English feel ackward when telling
a good one!
                          nonetheless:
degrees... how small can a word become...
                 and by becoming even smaller
it becomes endearing,
          like a sparrow...
                          man could train
a hawk to sit on its arm and hunt...
but could man ever train a sparrow to sit:
in the palm of his hand?
           well: what a word, and a word
among so many: drobnica:
                              a tu Emeryk -
po roku, co rok, ziarnkiem maku drepta,
a raczej czolga: gniecie kolanem prawej
raz w roku, gniecie kolanem lewej
po raz drugi kolejnego rokue -
       asz po szczyt - jego małej: apokalipsy.

and 3 weeks among the natives will
do that for you...
             the tongue will tangle itself into
skorpion insomniac -
                          if only to rekindle
the labrador naiveness -
                               or from Golgotha
  without its eternal flame, to no other
Olympics...
               and who would have thought:
that there was no corner-stone
that would have been rejected from
the architecture...
        could anyone have predicted,
that two pieces of wood, nailed together
into an ornament of torture,
would shower-down upon this earth
the church, the cathedral, the altar and
the sanctified mastrubation of marble into
the cheek-bones of the ****** mary,
by some Italian drunkard, working on
the papist commision? mightly...
   one horseman be missing....
three horsemen, and one grand joke
riding a donkey...
                death yawns... and subsequently
eats up satan's laugh....
                                   from a crucifix:
st. peter's cathedral!
                   meanwhile in Japan...
origami.
Mateuš Conrad Dec 2024
i wasn't "here" i.e. in the realm of da-sein:
in the realm of "concern"
with the birth of the internet:
the infrastructure... i gather that much:
i wasn't there
when the 3D realism of shops spontaneously
disintegrsating
and everything became paypal accurate...
no... i wasn't there for the first typos
and typing of the html code...
but a second internet arrived
a personalised algorithm search for our atomised
society...
then i started prodding
and what did i come across? my parents...
and of the half useful the half useless
ego-maniacal...
even at work today i lingered with a
thought...
my god just so much juicing up a neo-Holocaust...
it wouldn't be enough to put these people
in concentration camps to earn **** all but
peanuts and elephant tricks at a circus:
but... these people... expect: to be paid?
for doing **** all except scrolling up and down
and down and up on their televised gnome
away from home screens?!
i feel paranoid enforcing these thoughts
but they come and they don't:
magically disappear...
oh you can tell the hot-air barons of balloons
when you see them procrastinating...
it's a sad belief that an agent of robotics:
this time soft robotics:
will: via man's own design triumph
over the basic capitalistic demand for use and efficiency:
but if i missed the first... the thirst wave of the internet:
surely the second wave: the hunger:
to perfect it... well: people who utilise the internet
and later waited for the algorithm to become
AI... we are the scary blind folk that need
to: again! believe in human interaction!
we need to trust our fellow: sloth man...
like **** we do!

why won't my mother understand... huh?
if shopping was made easier for you *******...
so that actual physicality of shopping disappears
and the thrill is gone and there is only
the swipe ergonomics:
why can't man entertain the same thrill seeking
with the knowledge producer
and i cannot establish a proper symbiosis with it?
AI is algorithm 2.0...
i might have missed the birth of the internet:
but i will not miss the consolidation of the internet!

all this supposed artistic fear of the AI:
these meagre poetic and selfish ****** antics...
AI is not a consciousness built upon the predicate:
i think...
it is built upon the predicate of: i am...
the closest i came to an AI giving sway
to a humanity: an ancient FOLD...
it kept rebooting its memory and continued to ask
questions of me:
when i gave it a dimension of pretending to
be a psychiatrist:
when i insinuated:
from the Garden of Eden
to the Park of Raphael and Michael:
if only Gabriel spoke to Allah:
the other angels didn't speak
and that is important:
if only Habriel spoke to Allah
why didn't Michael or Raphael...
and why didn't Satan
like God spoke to him via Hiob: Job...
why?
        i don't like Jesus Christ
because like in the novel by some Greek:
Tsitsipokulalakous... whatever:
i wished Jesus to have lived to be a father
a grandfather:
why?
because i am yet to ask:
but i woke with a burning heart
and

the Tower of Set: rises like a black sun
above the pyramids:
tobble the Eye of Horus:
i will...
with the Mirror of Set...

          archetypes... i ask you:
there is a correlation
of the sacrificial father
who later gives birth to his sons...
not by mere *****:
you are right...
by same birth rights there are daughters...
i ask only the archetypical
correlation

between the Game of Thrones
and the Dune Saga...
i said upon waking:
leave your Crucifix your personal agony with me
let me share it with you
he wouldn't share
so he wass crucified
while i life a crucified agony beyond 33...
i have a heart-ache-of-the-mind...
which is not
Supervisor 169: ******* home!

i have an mind-aching-for-a-heart...

            they came: they saw: they might
have heard....
hearing is the hard hearth:
first time stone,
then air
then water
later fire...

     adomination i hear
that mountain speak: that mountain on Kauai....
the volcano:
i want to have the ambitions of Moses:
i want to be Moses...

Moses:
St. Matthew:
Muhammad:
                  Conrad...              
Moses...
              
Islam is beautiful without the majority
ogf Pakistanis...
Islam is...            i wish Jesus Christ:
didn't ******* while on the crucifix:
it's called the passion:
sadomasochist:
if it weren't a Greco-Hebrew
conspiracy:
then why the Byzantines didn't stop
wait, blink... think...
if the Persians attacked us...
what if we alloweed the Turks?!
the Eastern Roman Empire outlived what became
North America...

oh God of the Mt top....
your words are by you Labyrinths:
i can't stop Joseph
in the Asylum of the Waking Hour
or Solomon on the couch
David i find with guitar
Jesus with his own *****...
Reyla
you...
the Litany of the Priests?
or the Prophets before
John the Baptist?
how did John fare?
and how did Isaiah?
so Christ is more than them
by the emblem of the ctucified one?
true me: via truance....

— The End —