Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
kate crash Jul 2010
ridin' wild with the broken down trannies in zoot suits n' water pistols aimin' to capture the sun from ten feet underground i swear it's darker than my gut insides crawlin' around in the glitter and filth i caught me diseased wealth heartache and small pond fame i caught me a sugarless daddy and a stage name i caught me a gutter and a song but still i wonder  how to walk but i can sure sweet talk sssssssslither love
W May 2015
Like...it feels like whole world and the, you know, uh...all the smily candy teeth and ******-out-of-their-mind ******* with their lip service to some techno-God of...what? Acceptance and power dynamics, or empowerment  or whatever... It's like they're out there building these monoliths to themselves...like, mirrors made out of diamonds that's all positivity and critical theories and ****, even Heidegger or Nietzsche thrown in there, Foucault, Lorde sometimes, a lot of other names, too...so much to remember when you wade into the world of identity, right? But it's also so sugary that I get a headache, like, when I see the steel roots that they're...repurposing? I keep tripping over them and stuff, I dunno.

Queer's a word I hear mostly coming out of only my own mouth, maybe the walls...if wall's could talk, right?...and that really tells me a lot, I guess? About what it means to be a ***, but like, not really? And how I'm totally not trans? I mean I'm still BASICALLY a boy, right? Like shouldn't I be like, calling myself a girl if I'm not a boy, etc.? The stony monuments to Liberation...they're using the big L right?...tell me so. I'm so close but still not good enough, or something like that. The binaries are there for a reason, etc. Not even that. Just a quiet, like...exclusion? Joke? What I wouldn't give to be a fully-fledged ****** or a true ******, y'know?...card-carrying member of the conference, where I can actually cry and my voice comes out in something other than a croak and people look at my tears and hear my words and say, Yes, that's real and that's okay?

Whatever though. I'm probably wrong anyway, right? I'm just half-baked, or not exactly full, or...what's the word?
Inspired by the style of Dennis Cooper, particularly in his novel TRY.
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2017
i've seen a u.f.o.,
yep - a weird orb - hardly a helicopter -
and hardly an aeroplane -
i disclosed it once to a "friend" -
   apparently in europe the entirety of
the oddness of the universe can be caged in
the mind of a psychiatrist - that's europe -
apparently every odd observation
requires the secular
"priesthood" of psychiatry -
everything, has, to, be: normalised;
the sort of *******-tickle-talk
that allows you to return
to talking about the weather...
or yesterday's eastenders episode
on the by pedohpilia bankrupt
b.b.c.
  so? **** it, play along:
the funny people will crack any
time soon...
         even though i have seen
an u.f.o. i'm sticking the the british
take on "sensibility" i.e. lying.
so this paddy walks up to me,
a british citizen like any other,
but has this "royal" airiness around
him...
  he thinks i'm mere peasant
and he's a ******* monarch!
          he suddenly think i can't
comprehend english...
but he can... then i ask him
to recite the alphabet... paddy can't!
sure, you see a u.f.o. when
you have to immediately curb your
enthusiasm, because you're in
europe, and europe is "sensible" -
     so you practice your sense &
sensibility: see no evil, hear no evil,
speak no evil: but **** me:
think up a tier of horror
                  above the holocaust!
if we're allowing science fiction,
if we're allowing the "dream"
but never the reality,
  if europe discarded idiot priest
for a psychiatrist,
i'd probably prefer the idiot priesthood
to the secular "priesthood" that's
psychiatry...
        i've seen an u.f.o.,
but as you might expect, i'm "european",
i'm supposed to be the sensible one,
the never: over-fluttering in
excitement -
                       ****, i saw a u.f.o.
actually means: i saw ****, nothing
really happened.
            i'm occupied, the drinking is
hardly a drag, and the music i'm listening
to isn't that bad, after all;
hell, i must have been drunk watching
this electric light orchestra "glyph"...
you start to try to convince people,
   when the people try to convince themselves
belonging to some day-to-day
everyday mundane collective "sanity" -
**** it, you do what you have to.
a bit like this "surprise" regarding the
transgender movement...
         3 year old trannies...
   ever read r. d. laing's the politics of
experience and the the bird of paradise
?
i hope to hell that r. d. laing will overshadow
freud, perhaps even jung...
after all: what glasgow giveth one
does not dismiss so easily...
                not without a brawling
spectacle in the back alley...
     what glasgow offers: one does not discard
even upon a 2nd reading.
                 and this is truly a topic of
the proper regard:
          all of politics is an aspect of experience -
as ever, with respect to heidegger:
   there's there-being -
but there's also mit-sein:
     with being, i.e. what?
                           mit-sein has no actual
coordinate to ensure a contract of
analogues -
             not a flat earth my aß...
you ever navigated a car via
    antwerp, eindhoven, venlo, duisburg,
  essen, dortmund, hamm, bielefeld, hanover
?      
that serpentine is a ******* killer...
you travel east from that muddle of roads
you'll be a ******* general of the boyscouts...
      no, no GPS... play god, looking down
on a paper, yes, paper map!
            navigate that ****!
       oh right, 3 year olds and trannies...
why the surprise?

       jesus said to them:

   when you make the two one, and
when you make the inner as the outer
and the outer as the inner and the above
as the below, and when you make the male
and female into a single one,
      so that the male will not be male
and the female not be female, when you
make eyes in the place of an eye,
          and a hand in the place of a hand,
and a foot in the place of a foot,
        and an image in the place of an image,
then shall you enter the kingdom.
    (the gospel according to doubting thomas) -

so... trannies?  
              
      a ******* elephant in the room...
it's almost like people don't want to cite
where this entire zeitgeist furore originated from,
i.e. from the "heretical" gospels of
the "lesser" followers of "christ"...
         by now the whole affair
is staring me in the face with burning
coal-eyes...
            if only the nag hammadi
library was found in modern day israel,
and not egypt, and not the story of
the flight of joseph and mary to egypt -
   and not the account of the secular historian
josephus in the reign of nero,
   and the book of revelation ref. nero
rather than augustus...
               hey, i inherited this crap...
even though the old testament is ridiculous,
at least it's only so "ridiculous"
as to be "ridiculous" given the time-frame...
the new testament is just a blatant lie...
a blatant greek lie...
        it's the nadir of what came prior,
i.e. the excellence of poetic harvesting by
the greeks -
         the new testament is a death of poetics -
a religion carved out of:
    the uninhibited testimony of
ever perpetuating the hunger for the next
groove messiah...
       odd, jesus christ perpetuated -
             moses christ sounds a tad bit sour...

never mind, perhaps, sometime in america,
as it stands, in europe, we're stressing
keeping up appearances,
  we're being sensible,
                  we're being the apparently
"well-attired" -
                  there's a "we" that has agreed
upon the secular priesthood of psychiatry,
i'll just ask,
    is it worth the spectacular,
given that so many people are gambling
with the mundane?
       so? shut up, and try to laugh internally;
it didn't help me having either 1 of
the 5 senses to craft an account of
an oddity...
     i was told to step back into line...

   and this, by ordinary civilians...
           i'm pretty sure that army personnel are
more liberal to such odd events, than
your everyday grey-day joe:
you know the guy, you pass about 100 of them
in an urban environment:
that face, so unmemorable that it's almost
like looking at a concrete slab.

- you've seen a u.f.o.?!
- nope, i must have been blind drunk hallucinating,
  sorry to disappoint, ol' chap.
Aaron LaLux Sep 2016
NoMakeUp

Chic lookin' like death,
with her dyed platinum blond hair,
her fake silicone **** and all that make up,
over dressed like Halloween **** girl I'm scared,

the less you wear,
the less impressed I am,
you get dressed up just to get messed up,
smoke a cigarette then get your teeth whitened,

you get done up glam,
just to get run up in,

when,
in the world was it ever okay,
to,
disrespect yourself that way?

Getting fckt by strangers,
without getting money or commitments,
that means you're like a *******,
a ******* that's not even good at business,

you're a despicable disgrace,
to the entire female race,
you wear all that cover-up,
because you've got Krocodil face,
that's Krocodil with a 'K',
better get it straight,
the kind from Russia,
that will eat your face,

eat your whole face off,
face it,
the facts are basic,
real women look way better without any fake make-up.

The only reason you need it,
is because you don't see this,

plus you fill your stomach,
with fast food *****,
you're going down in flames,
what was your name Halley Comet?

Saving money on food,
so you can buy cosmetics,
maybe if you changed your diet,
you wouldn't need cosmetics,

there's nothing romantic,
about cosmetics,
cosmetics cause cancer,
don't you get it?

More vegetables,
less processed cheese,
and your face won't look,
like it's got a disease,

please,

remember these words,

real women look better without any make-up,

without all those name brands we're all naked,

believe whatever  you want to,
but these words will still be true...

So stop dying,
your hair to death,
and trying,
to get the guys to stare at your breast,

you are,
so much more beautiful naturally,
and if you,
go natural well actually,
you might find,
a man who loves your mind,
a man that truly loves you,
for who you are inside.

and I promise this,
in all honestness,

no man will ever fall in love,
with a woman because of the size of her breast,
or the color of her hair,
or the brand of her dress,
no real man will ever really care,
whether your outfit is Versace or Guess,

because good men care about the real you,
not fake fashion brand names,
you are not a cow nor are you cattle,
so why would you want a label branding?

And I promise this,
in all honestness,
that this is,
honest honestness.

Real men fall in love with real women,
because of who they really are,
not who they pretend to be,
real men fall in love with real women,
because they love her soul's avatar,
and her divine femininity…

So let your hair grow,
back out to it's natural color,
if you honestly want,
to find a natural lover,

and save your self,
for those special lovers,
that are truly deserving,
of all of your natural wonders,

leave the fake hair,
for the fakers,
leave the toners,
for the loners,
leave the make up and fake dyes,
for the hookers and transvestites,

you,
are beautiful,
without,
the manicured cuticles,

you are beautiful,
just the way you naturally are,
there's no need to alter yourself,
with some silicone and scars.

Just be beautiful Beautiful,
there is no need to pretend,
and leave the makeup and fake body parts,
for the trannies and mannequins... ∆
From a man to a woman...
#nomakeup
nissa Jun 2014
Roses aren't always metaphors, you know.
For the ghosts in the walls that write poems about how you sleep.
For the shadows in empty closets that you fear will creep.
For the rivers you've travelled that leave burns on your arms.
For the faces pressed against windows that slip colours into the wind.
For deserted bus stops made of crushed beer tins.
For the bars filled with grannies and trannies and the best kind of sins.
Sometimes they're analogies.
And boy, are they lovely.
received  a tumblr prompt (-::::
In the subways you go through and
the tubes you go into
the rush hour
ambush
awaits you.
Certainly overtly in plain view they watch you
and wait for the moment to strike
It's a battle we fight every morning and night
with no end in sight
and no one seems to care but
avoid paying your fare and
you'll be whisked out of there like
a bat out of hell
straight down the 'nick' and
banged up in a cell
then up before the 'beak'
who gives you bail for a week
while reports are prepared,
as if anyone cared why you don't have the fare
why you needed to go and
be ambushed below,and
the ambushers,
the pill popping pen pushers,grannies and
trannies and babies with grannies all smile and nod as
if they gave a sod about you.
When it's over and done with and the judge gives you
a week to pay a fortune in fines
when the lines on the track talk electrically back
and once more down below when they are on the attack,
you have to consider that a cycle would rid you of
this terrible trial,
and the ambushers smile,the pill poppers growl the trannies
and grannies and the babies all howl
with delight.
Morning and night and morning and night
I might get a bike
I really might.
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2015
.ich gerande kam, von unter die eisenvorhang.... (i just came, from under the iron-curtain): mir, sein geworfen unter eine siliziumvorhang... wann werden sie halt, in berufung es ein tal?! i just came from under the iron curtain... i'm under a silicon curtain, valley? what valley?! your western communists are worse than the originary eastern europeans: Edvard Gierek... coal miners... sick of socks you ******* mocassin trannies... i coined the term, first siliziumvorhang! dead-end eisenvorhang... what valley, what curtain?! this curtain! this valley! cultural-marxism coupled with cultural-darwinism... the perfect storm... i just wanted my jukebox back, man, did i really require independented politco commentators? not really, no, i really didn't... i just wanted my music algorithm back... like: ******* will you ever get it back... thank you... *******... both sides are to blame... both the independent creators and the multi-billionaire hog feeders... trebble up! the number of homeless people, via youtube...  "creator" these days, also implies: vulture regurgitation of news content, elevated comment section... what a prize to be envious of! i quiet simply tire of h'american commentary... hiroshima ego tripping is about done it for me... i have come from under the iron curtain...
now i'm sieving ******* from under the silicon curtain... because and also: as if: the scot blonde comb-over golfer nominee really matters... point being: i have no where else to go... if i'm escaping the iron curtain, while being forced under the silicon curtain... i'm going nowhere... i'm like a cancer: hell, if there's no place for me to go... hit the brain, give it a malignant tumour... h'america was once the: only escape financial back-up plan... now? i'm not so sure... i don't believe in h'america... i'll buy theit ****... but that's about it... thank god i never visisted h'america, thank god i visisted russia... i'd visit h'america: if only i had the ego compass of a worth of ebola... i don't want to visit h'america, too much of it is already exported... i see too many englishmen ******* off the export manifesto... it's already gauging at my eyes... thank god i visisted russia rather than h'america... i pray to god to never visit that godforsaken place of the forgery of worships.


a police van almost sounds japanese in polish: sūka; i rode one once, being picked up unconscious on the pave after being given a ******* drug... i can usually walk the double yellow of the highway code straight... after a bottle of whiskey... reasoning from that... my drink must have been spiked; and yes, sūka is also a derivative of a female dog: you know that lying in terms of writing is also called structure and planning? look here... haphazard composition in the vein of mahler.

i never write more than i read:
i have to keep the libra balance;
and i never write
with the intention of spontaneity;
as before precision syllables
only craft synonymity of:
i / aye / why / lie / fly / cry...
the one vowel in each that’s stressed superior
to the other letters used...
obviously we can claim a bargain: 2 4 1 (two for one!)
bunch of bananas 2 quid spare,
get yer bananas!
that market selling call resounds in a crescendo of echoes
among the walruses and 1960s risqué pop:
what? it's romford, the river rom acts as a sewer
on the sly... and it's a market town after all;
that's hardly a reason to call romford hull & larkin:
did you know that geography poster next to
the library changes colour? yeah,
it changes from avocado green to dark moss green,
and you can spot romford, gidea park, hornchurch
and upminster and rainham on the map?
i noticed the change in neon hue just last
night, having a beer and a cigarette: policespotting
the 'outside the five roundabouts' rule of
public drinking allowance.
Jake muler Oct 2015
Hot latte, with some chocolate dust sprinkles on top. Man I will be frank, Americans got it to easy, to easy. That's the american way. To many American's now have it to easy, ******* off of government funds away from the one's who really need them. We got a ghetto every 5 or 10 miles. A suburb every few miles, a mansion 1 to every five burbs. We got It easy with groceries, a store we get food from! Dont need to grow food anymore really, everything is manmade poisoned and antibiotic shots in your chicken and beef. We have dudes who wanna buy women, or men that wanna buy men. Even men who wanna buy trannies ( transexuals) or dudes who buy woman who are really men. but what countrys not that way. We got all different creeds breeds all here. Doctor's you can pay 200 bucks for the illegal way to get scripts, prescriptions for the not knower's. We have mad alcoholics here like no tomorrow. And serious ****** and dope addicts, We have jocks, idiots, goths, strippers, musicians, the best actors in the world. Along with the best movies. We have the old western U.S. we have the east coast where oceans you can get from the south to the east to the west. We have hillbillies, rednecks, gangsters, wannabees, liars, thieves, killers, rapists, city boys, country girls, Mercedes Benz, old pickup ford, motorcycle gangs -baddest ever.. We have everything here to get you in jail, hell and heaven. We can make you sin. Or make you want to repent. Come to us. Come to the united states of america. Forgot a big thing! The soilders. We got the best marines army navy all soilders in the world here.we have the most weapons of any country in this weird place. We have soilders who lose their lives for things they think their fighting for when really its rich overshadow government money their fighting for. We got huge graves, big tombstombs. Mostly marked with men who died unrespected from world war 1 , 2 and possibly three sometime in our sunny future. Welcome to America. Heaven and hell in one slice.
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2019
.there's redemption at the end of this diatribe, or so i think there is, well... whatever hector dejean could have ever done... of all the places in europe... i kinda wish i visited berlin... e.g. paris, mid 00s? the best place in the world... stockholm mid 00s? ******* closed it off, cold as a butcher's knife cutting into meat to the bone... and i know the saying: he only saw a bit of the world, only because of her... who, who's her? solo... how i pulled it off, i still don't know, how i became introverted because of the writing? that i know, i decided upon a career (insert snigger, and no " ") in drinking.

discovering a channel like
contrapoints and
shaun (salad fingers)
                        in a single day?

               sorry... no...

   the day a ****** starts to maul
its way into my head...
one ****** i can take:
two trannies?
              no... sorry...
i'm arachnophobic already...
what's another phobia
                      to do with it?

shaun: much appreciated
pedantry...
           to too came with
my own set of toys

  what's isn't chemistry
   is also not čeating...
all the major nuances
     of the english language...

but this overt-obsession
of the other with regards
to being either gratified,
or not...

      you should ask me...
'why is it that you don't
experience erectile dysfunction
when going to a brothel?'

   why a sudden concern,
interest,
              as to what men
              do, or don't do?

pet a cat,
put on a washing machine,
hang the washing
and shy away from the day
with three ciders...
   stare at a blank screen
with a blank face
and a morbid itch of anticipating
some sort of spew
from, yours truly?

   suddenly everyone is
"worried" about the leftovers?
albeit this "abortion"
   can talk back...
     or... "think" back...
because every time
i'd ******* i'd count it
          as an act of genocide...

        "loneliness":
   because i found an outlet that
bypasses...
          the editorial process
                 and is... unihibited?    
   ****, there are two of me
when there are three ciders
                                            in me...

      you know...
   i've never come across potent
left ideology,
                        until now...
****... maybe i'm also a leftist,
or: what does all of this even
                                 mean?

personally...
                        it's not saying i'm
not unconvinced,
       or i'm hallucinating
or anything...
         maybe these so-called
incels would not get
such bad press,
    if... there wasn't a problem
with ******* priests?
  and... the name
   suburban cenobite was
introduced?

  when one mental "disorder"
is... Norman...
          and all others
are...
                       Tabloid Taboo...

seriously, Matt, get your *******
head around this...
    'i'm trying, i'm trying...
but this **** is not lily *******
savage...
         translate
                   counterpoints
from behind
                 a camera lens...
to stage...
                       who's laughing?

the queer that was,
when it first started to tease
the public's taboo
                    orientation...
the current public's taboo
orientation of certain
                  negations of ease?

different ball-game...
            maybe that's why i sometimes
frequented brothels...
   best shrinks in the whole
******* world...
         but of course,
"*** slaves"...
                        oh that one time,
when i forgot to trim
my ***** hair and thought:
that would be impolite...
              so we just smooched
for an hour...
   do you even know that
they charge an excess on
the hour if you want to perform
oral on them?

       i just think of eating
raw oysters...
          
     but ***...
                do i really have to think
about it so much,
on such political terms?
     this is it... no ******* bucket
and ***** for me...
     the continual cycle of:
not-keeping-your-own-affairs-intact...

are days always like this?
by this i mean...
penetrating - my ego just turned
into a ******
  and became ****** by
        a ******-tongue / voxdo...

or maybe i'm personifying
   an atypical reaction from the actual
echelon of addressee...

               but this isn't a blaire white
hmm...
             buffalo bill -esque...
who said anything about...
   ****** bones?
    hands don't, lie...
              em, yeah...
    ***** envy...
             with a hand that can
hold a basketball?
            do all you want...
but once the hands come into play...

and then... the video of
counter point nears its end...
and i'm...
   like...
                      o.k. this could
work... consolidation...
a truce...
                  you be she
                      whatever you like,
   i'll be a suburban cenobite...
unofficial...
        but at least i will not
be some paedohpile priest...

       i needed this...
   there's still one cider left,
i hang the washing...
which included my mother's
underwear
   and i feel... insanely normie...
having just realised:

    i usually normal with this
sort of content...
       why now?
   oh... right...
   reading the sunday times'
magazines...
       and imploding from
all the disconnect from
                mainstream media...

   yet i will persist...
      what is an irrational fear
when the thing itself, in question,
is also irrational?
my arachnophobia
     is irrational...
            is the spider even
given a status of either
rationality, or irrationality?
         i'm definitely being
irrational...
   but the spider is neither
rational, or irrational...
     it's a spider...
  it doesn't have the luxury
to be irrational,
   other than it is a rational
                extension of per se...
sure, god, evolution,
                             whatever...

for so long i craved to write
something so alienating
that it makes me feel
uncomfortable...

        ah... the subject matter...
that was it...
       the death spiral,
the dodo project...
           first time... Isabella...
psychology exchange student
two years my scenior...
Grenoble...
   no...
   she really was a dream...
then there was that time
with my ex-girlfriend
from high school...
    a whole afternoon
and her *******...
later something else,
and then later something else...
months apart...
then the ukrainian *******...
then the russian bombshell...
the puerto rican
          plum in amsterdam...
a black girl
with an ***
     just about right
for my lack of ***** envy
or whatever it's called
when a black girl's ***
requires the desired tool
(i hear they're releasing
a new album, can't wait)...
then a few bulgarian prostitutes...
then a thai bisexual
(yeah, to my shock...
she was wearing a sports bra
and there was no thai
surprise in the end,
but the suspense was
killing me
   just before we did it
                       in the garden)...

details, details:
   i'm not going to suddenly
write out a hard-on...
   ****... i was starting to feed
into the paranoia of identifying
myself as an incel...

cool cool, "are traps gay"...
we're back in lily savage territory...
ha ha, always the subject matter...
     i hate that...
freaking out about something
you're not...

          it just had to come
at the right time,
   downing this third cider...
and yeah: it's sunny...
   i can't wait for the night
and the foxes...
it's mating season,
so they'll be at it
             more prominently...

          ah... the trans-movement...
the benzene ring...
and Plato's concept
   of punishment
     of men being reincarnated
as women...
or.... in this instance...
  women being incarnate
in male bodies...
            it's like: hell decided
to blah-blah its way into life...
          fun times...
            sure, and a bunch slurrs
and slurps of milkshake
from the great *** of kamadhenu...

i'm no better,
   look at me,
               drinking,
                 brothels...
                   among
the mad, the ******
                       and...
                  safe to say:
            liberated from
the pogrom of establishing
              myself as a father figure.
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2019
and you know what was, or rather,
what is the most "fun" aspect
of being being mis-diagnosed
as a schizophrenic...
   oh... 12 years ago?
  no one could have told me
i'd be riding a ******* carousel
of the remnants of my ego
into this sort of... "reality check"
prognosis...
   i always sat there in the psychiatric
office,
replying to what books
i was reading...
    making as much of
my ****** courtesy,
thinking... not much...
       inter-sectional feminism?
intra-sectional feminism?
ooh... someone has a fetish
       for Latin prefixes, don' 'eye?
when chemistry became a hard
science but also a quasi-science
of: well... we've done our bit
for the worth of shampoo...
*** yer *** on the benzene ring
unravelling...
   meta! y' sir!
  para! y' sir!
           ortho! y' sir!
  find us... trans!
   y'... you what?!
                                    find us trans!
imagine my astute astoundment,
say... 6 years ago...
being asked: what is reality?
the ontology of ever is,
that is, and every is, that isn't,
and every is that is in-itself?
do i ******* look like god?
well... here are your answers...
   trans-gender "women"
moved in all-female prisons?
arm the female prisoners
with strap-on ******...
         what?!
               it almost seemed like
a waste of time, back then...
   but, now, i guess...
everyone is as... "confused" as i was
back "then"...
to no apparent then
with what is worth a... now...
yeah... i always need a reality check...
like... reality is anything
worth checking, rather than checking-out
off...
         and i understand the gimmick
pundits...
      problem with me:
i have an unnatural will to live,
and a knack at playing
the patient, & happy,
& non-talkative happy camper
of... a... chief bromden...
whatever the hell i said so many
years ago...
  well... **** on me...
what does it matter, now?
- but clearly i never assembled
the grand puzzle of, "reality"
to what has been perfected
to a dysfunction...
seemingly: to begin with...
  most of them?
gen-X single mother households...
me? classical learning:
my mother is my worst enemy...
classical Oedipus-complex...
which means:
   i do not possess the audacity
to... trans...
             sure, i tickled
my fancies with cross-dressing...
had the ***** to walk into
a Butlins ****-fest of a night
out...
   lost my wallet...
but now?!
      chemistry, thank god,
is still a rigid toy of words...
  like... what's north, south,
east or west in Copernican terms?
answer... flat earth...
oh yeah... because that round earth
GPS really helped those
*** tourists in Australia...
drive their ******* car into a lake...
but chemistry is a cul de sac...
unless...
  you translate all that theory
******* back into a fetish for words...
esp. Latin prefix jargon...
physics? covered...
by science fiction...
and the atom bomb... no problem...
spoc' 'as 'is 'ne covered...
no worries...
   ah... but biology?
      there's a realism behind it?
sure... psychiatric realism...
       at times you start to wonder:
why does a psychiatrist
even get a chance to speak...
before a philosopher might employ
the cuddle and a pillow of sedatives?
yeah... so much of cultural darwinism...
has made... reality...
                 in-and-of-itself...
either...
             stealth synthetic beef stakes
and...
    ****** trannies...
   in prisons...
where female prisoners
are not armed with strap-on
******...
           no... no reality here...
n'ah 'um...
                   nada...
         zilch, squid... nuffin'...
no... ****** taqiyya...
                   we all wish to be homophobes...
only...
       going to a gay bar the previous
night... ended up snogging
a south american...
next day?
            went to a birthday party...
the south american
made an inquiry with my gay
cousin...
so i was at the party,
he was at the party...
       i came to the party...
was investigated by the feminist
police about being homophobic...
spotted the south american...
had an intolerable pain in my gut...
apologized to my cousin
hosting the party...
and...                            left...
the gay i could take...
  i was just getting my hots for him
had i enough drinks in me...
but a ******* homophobia
investigation, by a woman...
no...
i rather eat rar herring on beach
in... ******* Southend...
sitting on the pebbles...
wanting to count the number
of grooves of hemorrhoid about
to blush: blue....
yeah... reality...
everyone has a sedative
for that...
it's only that some of us...
do not think... being over-excited
by its speculative nature
of a theoretical physicist
            is all that important!
- so, what do i see?
directionless, and a-chemical...
just by looking at the attachment
groups to a benzene ring...
        but you know...
chemistry is a stable science...
      it couldn't be attacked,
it could only be exploited,
verbally, borrowing from Latin...
  physics is still instact,
although: science fiction,
unless you drop the Oppenheimer
quote...
                 or... talk via
a mobile phone...
                 but?
      not even the fault of Marxism...
although: i should wish that to be,
no?
          cultural darwinism...
     looking too long up
the **** of a monkey...
             and so...
                  in the meantime:
i did enjoy some of ted berrigan
poems...
                 unless of course
i have succumbed to a filter,
where i'm strapped to a pit
of rats that are about to gnaw at me,
and i will never hear
the sort of conversations
backstage at the BAFTAS
         or prior to the Ascot races...
at whatever tier i'm at...
having just picked up...
  a lászló krasznahorkai
   (like the name of the psychiatrist,
dr. szasz... yes: that implies no
SaS or ZaZ... but SHaSH...
  well... unless he wasn't
Magyar to begin with...
     but a geerman! ßaß)....
satantango...
          edition?
        the first english edition,
tuskar rock book
2012...
  oh hell, the book is older than as me...
first appeared in 1985...
but yeah... started reading it...
       to peer into what...
an anti-paragraph novel looks like...
and i thought that people only read
poetry for a light-heartedness...
turns out...
there is a hyper-statement of
prose-claustrophobia...
namely? the anti-paragraph...
then i read something from
the blog of alex preston...
writing in 2014 to his younger self
in 2009 having just secured
a faber & faber publishing deal...

              and all i could think of was...
the merovingian...
who? lambert wilson...
in the film... 5 to 7...
  about an aspiring writer...
                  hey baby hey...
hey second from now here on in:
boo!

                     alex preston
doing the analysis, back in 2014...
http://alexhmpreston.com/a-letter-to-a-young-writer/...
average: x25,000
          accurate figure x11,000...
one baby in hand,
another baby in tow...

the very sensible man...
            and why would anyone
crouch over a screen,
   find enough propensity
to earn a living from... being-bait
of one's on clicking rhythm?

sure... all poetry is but the horror
of an extension of one's
"inability" to shed off adolescence...
either the *******
claustrophobia of prose,
or the anti-paragraph
myopia of some Magyar...

           let's just call this
the medium of the infantile minds...
and call... the serious writer's
medium,
the medium of the book critic,
who finally exclaims:
and of the 20 books on my reading
list for the newspaper...
for the weekend magazine
review section... ?
i probably finished... 1.

pendulum... pendulum!
GaryFairy Oct 2021
hello it's me, FEAR, the word

I guess this is my suicide. I hope you sick animals are happy. You've been trying to get rid of me for a long time. Like you care! I saw the big stickers that say NO FEAR. FEAR, the feeling is my twin. He is really depressed and said no one even feels him anymore. He is surrounded by some close words, and a couple of feelings. We are both offing ourselves at midnight. I want you to know that you lost a good feeling today, and a word that matches it in stature...well i was meant to match it. We are both pissy about how you use us. Bums! I made "fear not evil" to tell you. Then of course it was changed to fear no evil...I can't take credit for that, it sounds like a caveman...fear no evil...fear no evil. ******! Anyhow, you lesser beings really will have no fear now! Bahaha. And if you do feel my brother's spirit slicing at you, don't come running to me. I'm not going to be used for some good time charlie that just throws me away and tries to hush. Oh he's had me. You've all had me! Times are good and you don't need old Fear then...or shall i say old Fears? So, you used to have nothing to fear but what itself?  Now you won't have him to feel, when you need him...and you will not have me to use either. You have nothing to fear...Do you know how big nothing is? Scared of the scare itself? Makes no **** sense! Hahaha. See ya stupid! I would ask you to give my regards to the other words, but you don't speak their language! NOT! Just kidding, but i am getting a name change. Refer to me and my dear brother as Acceptance, or the next time this is for real. We only did this for you and we are not trannies. We are just brothers who love and understand each other. Fear is not gay either. The ladies love them some Fear...and men love it when they run into their arms, after fear has it's way with them. OK...who am i fooling...fear is not a liar. My brother does get into men. It's the men who keep him as a ***** secret...I told my brother, he is just a bad feeling, but he used to control entire outcomes, and if he wasn't here adrenaline wouldn't know what to do without him. He really is the talented one...being so many things...takes a lot of imagination. I told him at least he ain't Happy. That is one messed up feeling right there. Happy is not stable, and when the change comes, it's never good. Even Anger stays true to himself...and if he does change it's for the better. Happy is one dizzy broad, if you know what I mean. So, for what once was, and what shall never be. I'm the same old FEAR, the word. A word can't be spooked by some half wit human. Words are something that you are far from...perfect. Keep trying window lickers. You could learn a thing or two from words you know. We don't flip and flop like humans. That is besides the homophones...mongrels. What a mixed up bunch of bad day at school they are. My brother is not a homophone! He is a feeling dum dum! I have no idea what a homophone is but my brother says it's not for talking on. He's a mess. He says that he knows that he is the reason why you're afraid of change and gays. So, just call him acceptance and try to feel him more under that name. I talked to the word Acceptance and she is hot! Anyhow, she loves being used! Feelings are all gay if you ask me. I just have one, and i deal. Well, maybe two if Acceptance is game. Ok OK i guess we're all a little freaky. Come on you dumb humans, and bring your feelers...oops feelings. Now watch how it's done when all us feelings and words accept each other...a few numbers joining too...come on 69! Enjoy the action. Hope you like black or white...or both! Haha. Keep on changing bro! I will still represent. The rest of you feelings stay you. Human? Use us all the right way. You choose us, we don't choose you! Keep wandering nimrods...We hope you find what it is you're looking for so you can lose it again. You know we've all been teaming up against you right? You're perfect, get the hell out of here. Word up
I was scared not to write it
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2019
****** the neo-feminist
anti-...
   the comerady
for the hetrosexual male...
the thai-surprise
having encountered
a bisexual in the park...
sure... my
white maggoty ****
was nothing
to be envious of...
bue: miles davis'
                trumpet was...
i no longer belong to
the world that attempts
to make sense,
in the "world"
that would ever consecrate
itself upon
a necessity of: furthering
the scope of dialogue...
i, punk oblivion,
Korean neon
insomnia...
                   Asia fetish?
whenever i have a desire
to ****...
i start imagining teeth
on oysters...
like:
i've ****** one with
tattoos on her body,
one will do...
thank you...
any more?
thank you, no.
              
see...
being read "pedantic"
backward in finding a seat
in an opera house?
like it was...
something difficult to do?
you know what...
       how about trying
that pedantic lineage
of
argument in a football stadium?
how's that?

yeah: it's ******* dark...
do i look like
a ******* batman
or something?
no...
so...
           i came here to watch
the ******* bolshoi theatre...
not for some *******
english smurks...

wankers...
******* scittle-half-crafts
of what deserves a
social-media frenzy...
and all of them women...

opera: yes...
and i was told by some
god-forbid russian
prized frenzy to stop leaning...
babe:
you're in the wrong seat...
and she was!
i was leaning into her
"attire"...
sure...
but she was sitting
in the wrong seat...
i thought everyone was
sorted in being primmed
when exposed
to such: "high" culture?

no...?
oh.. well...
no... see...
i like the opera,
i love the ballet...
but being told
that i haven't faced
my *** to coincide with
my face,
to sit in the allocate
allowance
of an put-into-place?

i become...
itchy...
  by some...
middle-man
that cannot stomach
killing someone,
simultanoeus
with
   butchering
a squat of pork
for a hungry cat...
at that point?
i become bothered...
i don't like being
the ******-splain
of sitting
allocation in an opera...

it's, *******, dark...
   next time:
stop bellowing at
the opera singer
like a *******
clapping-seal
needing the ordeal
for the encore of senseless
clapping:
or i'll ******* sling around
skinning you...
savvy?!

homosexuals,
trannies...
whatever...
they can have their go...
but being...
           made scrutiny of...
being...
ridiculed...
in an opera house...
by social-climbers?

it's like.... an itch...
  i'm itching...
to bite, slap, stab the living's
worth of said, "unsaid"
person...

               white-trash drama...

oh i don't fear...
the incarcerated and the obese
are never behind bars...

but that smirk remark
at the opera?
like i'm, somehow... "minor"?
i could **** for that...
mind you:
all the worth for the world's worth
of killing,
is a summary of
the most banal loss
of compnesation,
      being made a comparison of.

i could **** for that opera statement...
i was watching
the ******* bolshoi theatre...
what i was given...
was an antagonist...
something worth
a camel i'd pat on the head
for...  imitating:
poiting forward,
with its "oasis" of phlegm
to scoop, for a worth
of coordinate to scrap
the heaving breath
of, all life, from:
and subsequently regurgitate...

such a belittling scrutiny...
kick a ******* ball
toward an aria while you're at
a scissor-kick mid-air
via a baritone tone
beside the...

   ad capricio (capricious paedo:
****** the testicles,
grab and twist them...
but never cut them off,
or attempt ****)...

   or the piedmont: sanctity...
beatified: ad ****, und -ini...
always, counter culture cited,
the Iberian Muslim counter...
as...
a harem of missing testicles
was...
for no blacksmith...
a escape route worth
of...
                            72 virgins...
but there are,
men...
******...
  who... do what
war implores of them...
to no end...
  for a predicament's
worth of peace...
yes... the Muslims were here,
the Muslims were there...
modern Muslims
in modern Kenya...
             a ******* giraffe
on the stripes
up a zebra's ***...
and i'm all, like:
a ******* clapping
coconut army...
because... Elvis Costello...
was... just as much
fun as Simon & Garfield...

      pop up:
all is for basic scrutiny...
   a few people
might remember
the championing
of coal miners...
in the form variety
of edvard gierek:
but me...
citing him?
am stupid steward...

but someone telling me
i'm not sitting in
the right place...
while trying to rummage
in the dark
for a "place of origin"...
being told
"it's not that hard" /
"anyone could
make such a mistake"...

and to think...
that so little became the basis
for the most horrendous
acts of man...
no...
a man can be burdened
by a broken arm...
cancer...
a hybrid of
an over-inflated
negation of ease...
but men...
pet-peeves...
   itches...
tooth-aches...
when people become them...
like...
when people become
pedantic,
or purposively
mis-understanding...
and not semi-acknowledging
themselves
in an exaggeration?

me?
personally?
i too want to implenet
killing...

   since what remains,
leaves to remnant
of a redeemable
quality's worth
of either crux: or beyond
it...
to say say:
i am no sadist,
to ingest a hard-on
from the moaning-&-groaning
of a person
on a plate of:
that most, tiresome ingestion
of... what...
should have never been
the circumstance
for the comparison
                  of caro: qua verbum.
july hearne Feb 22
surely there is a better word for emptiness than emptiness

there is so much time for reason and hate to hold hands
these days of being out of time

of borders crossed by third world trash
who aren't even human

even the legals, have you heard about trash mountain in india?

it piles higher and higher
piles so high

all the way from india to canada, already full of garbage
but importing more garbage

ever met anyone who hates God and the Bible because he ordered his chosen to wipe out everyone of their enemies including their children?

the people of india suggest a good clue of why He did that
the **** and his dog are why he did that
beyond the point of repair

garbage mountain growing higher and higher
the indians will make the highest mountain of all
the canadians, trannies and muslims will help them build it

trash builds a mountain, who needs a God who creates mountains when trash can build mountains of trash

there is so much time for reason and hate to hold hands
these days of being out of time

of knowing fani willis will be lynched by her enablers
both fani and her enablers are trash, forfeiting their rights to humanity along with pooja and dickshit

don't you dare censor dickshit by puting an astrick by his name,
it is an indian name, a trash mountain name, you can not be a ****** enabler without allowing trash mountain to grow and grow and grow

and you cannot wear your proud badge of pride for enabling fani without supporting dickshit or trannies, glorious, glorious trannies who are men that order everyone to refer to them as women as they daydream about ****** women and children and sometimes make their dreams come true so canadians, muslims and trash mountain types can celebrate.

crumbs.
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2017
several addictions have them, several
music genres have them regarding
their listeners -
    hell, a lot of people go by a nicknames,
marijuana smokers are stoners,
or loafers,
     ******* users: coke heads -
    ****** - dope fiends?
         or is that lepers, or is it scurvy?
metal music fans: meatheads
due to their head-banging antics -
the punks the ikes,
            the gays queers -
the transgender folk trannies -
     the feminists the ****** -
although i'd call them the sapphos sisters...
anyway...
    they can beat you down with regard
to your own antics -
i'd love to see another pissy-pants
  annoy oliver reed, and see if he'd laugh...
that being said:
   alcoholics probably have the best nickname
compared to the rest of them...
ha ha - hellraisers.
ah, on that note, having mentioned oliver reed,
oh, his athos? pristine performance...
it's gonna sound gay, but i also had
a crush on aramis: you know,
that refined english gay gentlemen without
hissy fits, what can you do,
you're young, your brain is moulding,
it will full decide aged 25...
  as it turns out: it was just a glitch of a child;
anyhoo, i watched this somewhere,
that heath ledger inclined himself
to pinch a doppelganger's case for his
role as the joker, after watching a few
tom waits interviews...
     it wasn't exactly theft, given that actors
are the respectable thieves in this world,
besides that,
   so there i was, watching the 1972
film henry viii & his six wives -
and as henry viii (donald pleasence)
started to age... it dawned on me,
in a subtle way: hey! oi oi!
     it's tom hardy playing bane!
obviously without the mask and the chain
smoker's voice raspy voice -
just the mannerism / punctuation marks
in the performance;
wouldn't you know - i've actually found
a suitor, and ****, even if the production
back in the 1970s was low...
   it doesn't matter: i was watching, actors!
i was watching the respectable thieves!
i was watching actors and thieves and actors
and thieves!
actors these day? more like burglars...
and there is a difference...
    acting, as if the audience isn't in the cinema...
sneaky little buggers...
back when acting was thieving!
i still think my favourite cinematic moment
in history,
  is when octavius caesar (roddy mcdowall)
reacts to the news of mark antony's
(richard burton) death:
the soup is hot, the soup is cold,
antony is alive, antony is dead...
                    and then the furore!
those really were thieves before they were
actors... not they are "actors"
        when in fact they are burglars.
Dear Jan 2014
terrapine trannies on trains going haywire southbound alignments crack in the sidewalk cement smile framed by fake curls the color of old gold
old mold smells the same as new mold
but less abundant
gather here
go there
you didn't stay with me
in that dream i had of the most beautiful place i'd ever seen
you said this is nice, now let's go.
i'd bruised my knees to get to that place
i'd scratched my cheeks and calloused my feet to find that place.
it wasn't like the other dream, that other place with the waterfall and the pond full of oil.
James with his old silvertone telling me of the gaseous things.
it was pure,
nothing with skin had led me there
and i was the only thing that cared to be there
under the tree with the green leaves
like any other
bent down
away from the sun and then back up again
there was no where to hide in this place.
no cotton to lay over your body and face
the ground was uncomfortable and perfect
you are awake in this place
you cannot keep your head tilted anyway but up
but anyway, sometimes beauty is less intriguing than something grotesque.
there is much less place for mystery in a clean place than there is in the depths of a mess.
your voice gets more viscous as your words fall out of place
but the feeling..
it translates through the angles of your knuckles
the nothingness your hands grasp onto
it's something big
your fingers are wide
like your mouth that stutters over your domino mind
you know what i mean.
dont you?
we want you to.
i mean,
come on.
John F McCullagh May 2016
It used to be the task of Moms to ***** train young ***** and Janes.
The government had other work; such as procuring tanks and planes.
These days the STATE has grown so large that they alone must run the show
The President, by Royal decree, demands we let his people go.

Though Male and Female God created; that either-or -ness now seems dated.
Learned scholars have explained how **** might think herself a Jane,
providing Kaitlyn, once named Bruce, with a ready-made excuse.
Conservatives rail, but what’s the use?

He She or It? Are you confused about which bathroom you should use?
In former days it was the done thing to use the room that matched your fun thing
Now delicate Psyches are rubbed raw as their gender issues they explore.



Once more the forces of the law are brought to bear on Segregation;
now its stools, not schools, which are the cause for intervention.
Yes, women have their Privacy rights- when it comes to procreation.
All else must now be sacrificed to the vision of a much changed nation.

When Adam and Eve think they’re Ada and Steve
Let them *** where they want or the State is aggrieved.
Adolescence is just such a jumble these days;
What with male lesbians, trannies and gays.
The young must find it most confusing
about which bathroom they should be using.
In New York City, if you so please,
You won’t be arrested if found using our trees.

Obama started with such high hopes.
I voted for him but now I’m bitter,
That the Presidency of hope and change
is winding up here in the *******.
Picture this May 2016
The **** like a panther prowls,
He hides in nooks and crannies,
Where he views his prey for hours,
With keen eyes fixed like trannies.
A playful pounce, may announce,
His attention to a need,
To catch a bird or little mouse,
With agility and speed.

The instinct never fails to serve,
Though doubtful he will eat,
Today's domestic feline verve,
Leaves dead birds at our feet.
To seek and **** with great prowess,
Is naturally on his mind,
With silent paws and callousness,
He will hunt until the find.

After a busy day stalking,
Gathering his stock,
Tired of all the walking,
He'll look at what he's got,
Then curl up by the fire,
Stretch his crawls and preen his fur,
Of his routine he'll never tire,
And he never forgets to purr.

Tomorrow through the flap,
A territory to mark,
No need for a map to set his evil trap,
Even when it's dark.
The underworld of cats,
Is here with us to stay,
Not always sat on mats,
He's out killing easy prey.
David Abraham Dec 2018
Some kid I don't even know is my hero
because he called me "he" when he doesn't even know me
and everyone else scares me
because they're constantly mocking all us ******* trannies,
saying we shouldn't exist,
because we're liars and delusional.

I can't stand people who says they're like me
just because they don't conform,
because they're not.
Not conforming isn't the same
as letting everyone see you and call you "it" and "******" and saying they hate people like you,
and not being able to breathe because you've got too beaten up by yourself hiding something
and wanting to die but only not doing it because you can't stand for a single person to talk about it with "she" on their minds.

I used to say I hated dresses and pink and all that girly **** when I was young not because I always did but because I couldn't stand anyone calling me the girly girl,
and then I always played sports, I fought and wrestled and kicked off my shoes for soccer to show the guys I was tough,
I was one of them,
and when they said I was just like them
I skipped and cried at home from happiness.

I don't believe in any god, or heaven or hell,
but I pray with all my heart
that I could have been born as someone else.
Even though I hate to feel jealous, I usually do not,
I wish so desperately that I could be any number of guys I see.
2257 dec 14 2018

sorry that all i have posted for a while is about being trans but wow it ******* ***** :))))
If we never wake, if we break the wings of dreams that fly through fields it'll be soon enough for me,
if we never see the sun set in an orange haze or days that spin like cricket ***** on village greens it'll be soon enough for me.
I want my El Dorado in a half pint glass, not enough to pass around and just enough for me, I've found that selfishness is less of less and more of self.
I listen to the radio, a solo show and I know that I get the best of it, TV is not for me, far too many looking in and advertising this and what and what's it for if not for show unlike the radio which in my case is an old one in a old state when solid state was the buzz, when trannies were to listen to and not you know who, but who knows now and anyhow no one cares.
If we had shares in a conception where ideas were the norm and not the exception it'll be soon enough for me.
When I wonder and I wonder why I wonder sometimes if the wanderer in me has ever tried to set down roots, if in the mind that treads with soft soled shoes or heavy boots there is a place for a traveller to rest his frame or is it that within the mind it's just like life, no breaks, no quarter given just a move on, hurry up and vacate the seat, I wonder but it has me beat and if I'm beat it'll be soon enough for me.
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2017
ah, but the atheistic scissors bound
to expressing ęglish...
                                       i.e. english - in: glee & eesh.

            also another word example:
dusz        &                  duś

hence the necessary scissors
  of inherent atheism in english...

  the first?
  
   in article terms
  the former: an indirect article
(a) - dusz

      and the latter?
                      a direct article
                            (the),
      again, encompassing prompt,
a commanding expression,
duś is a word, that encompasses
the prompt.

   dusz? a word that encompasses
the verb-inside-a-verb,
                a consciousness...
    suddenly being aware of the
hedious act...
                   being performed...
       and realising, that you're aware
of social norms, but are unable
to transcend toward a plataeu morality
that allows you to stop the act
you're performing.

                and the word for soul?
  dusza....

then there's the word, uduś,
i.e. strangle / smother...
  the element of: voyeurism,
  in that uduś has someone looking
at you performing the act,
   and duś... has you claustrophoic
inside your own head,  
   performing the act...
   unless of course you address yourself
in third person, with no ******.

        which is a, presupposition?
i can't take to enlisting too many nouns
to explain the situation...
      
   i love the fact that in english
there's only talk of trans-gender,
  or bi-sexuality,
    elsewhere? bilingualism,
         and trans-etymology...
i find the latter the more
                               interesting category
of debate...
         by no english is so pop
and so lingau franca that it has become,
slightly tedious...
 well... that's cute, but the true description
of this language is: ******* annoying!
         trannies with daddy mummies
   pushing prammies with
                   penguin babies waving 'ello;
i miss the classical circus acts,
     never mind, let's just watch this mature,
call it burgundy, circa 1998... full palette,
vintage, red... mmm... fry that beef
    al dente... shimmy shimmy wee,
              shimmy shimmy,
                   pink on the inside;
oh yeah... and that word:
    ******* plonkers... and that ain't cockney...
that's peckhamsprechen...
             hen hen... not shed
light o mighty, spré...
       spray chechnyan with a: shir connery
                convenience at the bar -
                          shishtematic, not saken;
     south london is as much a mystery for
someone living north of the thames,
   as someone living
                   north of the terms heading
to newcastle...
  and the foul gob,
       told the most bitter-sweet joke.
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2019
i don't know....
but like... a ******...
thst's not overtly-pretentious
about opera...
makes me feel
warm... all inside...
like eating a doughnut...
screaming off
chrysler:
*****! dino bones!
   it's like...
       i am allowed
to heave a hope for man...
and remain dodo-project
intacts...
    and tell one woman:
your god,
is a mastrimony to
having abdandoned me...
how a white
****** imitates
a black woman
with "her"
innuendo tractact
of imbargo
for the scuttling tongue...
i have to simply start
calling trannies:
spies...
     or the gargantuan
mimic scoops...
with woman having
made the digger's grave
of a man's primordial
basis...
        i remember
chasing shadow,
and a non-existent
rainbow...
hide & seek...
are the games played
by children
universal?
   with finding
genitals...
i feel...
there's one curiosity
left for me...
what came first...
the oyster shell
or the oyster?
              sieve past
the strutting chicken
encompassing the ****
scab.
HEIL!
  HEIL!
     uniformgrau:
alt. uniformschwarz!
coco-name-****-on-
the-chanel...
              whiskers missing
from a cat...
but a salute nonetheless!
trans- men make
me feel warm inside;
like doughnuts...
like...
i was supposed to feed
of the horror off women
being incorporate(d).
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2020
.a man dies and whoever remains: become to intolerable - no one is willing to achieve a former status quo but life demands a status quo of sorts... that now there's a dragging sensation: a drawing toward the grave - how death beams illuminating while it eats memory and strikes at the bells of: what was, now impossible... otherwise: caricature since now and caricature culminating with now... a man dies and whoever remains so intolerable: how would it sound sacrificing my body to the memory of the sea - how strategic, little man... man of consequence and of no little to begin with... my words less than tabloid smearing: my words less than the purpose and worth of butter on a piece of bread: yes... i smear ink into phonetically encoded shapes - letters - are a reminder: for the canvas of toast and too boot: some butter to spread... collateral: always this collateral - free thinking basic structures and the great trampling - a levelling that is the antithesis of former explorer guises - to have to uproot and to deface to have to "revise": to actually keep going "somewhere"... not "i": either a kleptomaniac or a hoarder of history... unless we start stacking all things measured to heave high, high... with our past to overshadow mountains... such "things" we have allowed ourselves to keep... to have cherish so: yet to have it scrutinised too and sold off so cheap... before the bravado of authentic objectivity: or some other wording... a suddenly died... i was wishing this for him... not this supposed brainless ol' ****, ol' alcoholic the same ******* excuses with that woman! burdensome leech... the same ******* excuses with this zombie-esque woman: this... "grandma"... i'm not here to make "friends" with this language: i know of people who have managed far more worse with it! thank you, very much! i'm not above settling seances with grief: if he only died authentically with a barely tolerable voice from the other side... but all these 3 months of secrecy... and all these scraps of money to concern oneself with: grandma... *****... now it's all about coordinating a re-orientating reproach on the matter... life so cheaply... "finished"? and she "thought" it necessary to bring god into the whole equation: that god might allow such awkward gesticulation for the body to endure... princess unicorn no less... spoke such honey coating bundles of lies... she still thinks the lie was spoken as if staged... as if she forgot her lines... the rot and the fermentation process needs to sink in... after all... the grandiosity of the event already happened... a supermarket cashier inquired as to why i was so dressed... a funeral attendee... 'was it a nice send off'... oh sure sure... a nicely packaged prize come to think of it: the corpse left some stamps... so... no problem... but how cruel the immediacy of a family member... i thank the ******* of an egyptian deity that i didn't invest in the purpose of family... i am certain of a painful death... a lonely death: or rather - a death with the world... not this... inheritance vultures... he didn't leave anything to be contested!  well... he might have... but i already have what no one else thought of as important... his stamp collection... what would have been better? a collection of pornographic magazines? ***** please... i wasn't expecting this from my grandmother: i was already towing baggage from a friendship... but this is just... the ultimate purpose of pessimism... to hell with stoicism... and all those words used for peacocking arguments... i'm chopping raw hind of a bull... i'm plucking out eyes from fish... i'm... doing my last, probably only interlude of thought before the agony of fire strips me back to the basics of passions and an ****** of pure, pain of conversation: detailing the withholding of truths by a bad liar... by a ******* phlegm of a pleb sort of culmination... more n.p.c.: but somehow still my own trajectory, here, "nuanced": now... shellshocked - blitzkrieg antics... after the funeral her envy for adolf ****** was so ******* pronounced: yeah... imagine my face... a stone somewhere was smiling with glee... because this has to absolutely make no... ******* sense! she calls a day prior to the death... she doesn't call a week prior: she calls when it is in the hands of the hospice folk to bring the agonia to a close... she decides to call a day prior to the death and on the day of the death... 3 months just escaped her... this is a woman who supposedly has a grandson... em... yeah... how do those lyrics sound like now: ***** tricks done dirt cheap... this is only banal evil... bored evil... i just remember all the verbal insults against him... at least i can celebrate him not hearing them ever again... oh yeah... and the h'american election happened... please... can this political enthusiasts bother someone else with their insomnia... 3/4 of the world is sleeping... it's not that important that, or anything new... come spring after winter, summer and back toward autumn... it was nothing new that democracy is what it is... a casino of telling the most ****** lie... he pushed the epitaph concerning the necropolis mingling with democracy... in manus tuas... he said the only democracy was the democracy the dead would revel in... i need to call her up and tell her... that she needs to include an epitaph on his grave... fiat lux let light be made)! or floruit (one flourished)... genius loci (spirit of the place)... habeas corpus (you may have the body)... i like this last one... most! a fitting epitaph to write on a grave... n'est ce-pas?! habeas corpus ad subjiciendum.

well d'uh: no brainer...
i got to say goodbye to a corpse...
and that's always better
than saying goodbye
to an urn of ash...
and boy... if ol' granny decided
to fulfill the wishes of
her deawest deawest son
and had him turned into
a bowl of ask the ash:
and i didn't get to see him...
all suited and booted up
for the ceremony...
my god... the day you see
a corpse in an open coffin...
days old...
and you have anything
remotely fear: insinuated...
about... taking a casual
walk in a graveyard at night:
or in a forest...
i'm still dreaming cyclops:
i am not some
appeased dream architect:
i'm dreaming void...
a grandiose wound:
a yawning abyss...
a corpse in an open coffin...
in one of those prosectorium
waiting rooms...
where the tiles are not
that kind of: medicine proof green
of a post-mortem dissection...
they're woven from
white through to a darkening:
grey thoroughly...
oh hell... it's fun...
seeing a dead body like that:
it elevates the "beauty"
of what's casually a mere:
script at the end of a film...
sun, truck, lampost...
fox's worth of road-****...
the unlucky woodland pigeon
that miraculously died
mid-flight and wasn't seen
roosting for miles
on a pavement...
it's beyond sobering...
since you know all the requirements
to have paid the attention to detail to:
when there was a soul:
and now... given the absence
of the sigma of animation /
the sum of animation...
the heart can rot on its own,
the liver the kidneys...
it's not like there's anything
pulling all of his materialistic wizardy
by the *****...
seeing that...
and then come night, the solace
of solitude...
a forest or a graveyard...
i've come across scarier places...
living rooms of strangers...
in all honesty:
these chicken shacks of
bad actors in general...
a walking on stilts when telling
a blatancy of a lie...
now my comforts are
"criminal" / certainly counter-
to whatever bias could
come prior...
hardly one of those tim burton
hard-ons for the gothic and
quirky!
that i wish my grandmother
a speedy ****-off because
she had 3 months to tell me and "us"
what's what
but who the **** calls and speaks
of a death a day prior
then a day later... the death...
3 months of a descent!
well... lucky me that i got to say
goodbye to a ******* corpse:
not the still living ******* my pampers
momentary lapse of
lucid recollection...
and this world has to:
terribly, somehow, also, happen...
and its like this coincidental
metaphor for: the centre cannot hold...
yes, come the big world:
some mythological granny **** of
the blonde...
but hey... it's ava lauren in a suit:
and to boot: booted...
karmalaiah 'arris...
and you're like:
whittle 'ichard primo...
i'm already on the dumpster with me:
blood first arguments sinking
a blind eye and grizzle tooth load...
before i even allowed myself
to take a bite...
******* geocentric carousels of
north/east/south/west:
the one acronym: prior to
the methodology of the h'american:
scotus etc. luvvie-dubby
for the acronym chant: u/s/a!
yeah, case closed... let's pretend
how tomorrow unfolds...
by 1am i'll be a sleep-walking
slinky... toss the cards...
the grand-picture...
the world is not some forthcoming
as to allow... both engagements
and sympathy:
the immediately available response
is all reflexive: **** reaction
scream! oooh! ah!
           sooner i'll be allowed
to contemplate an indigestion "problem"
than a death of a would be patriarch...
then again:
you always marry into the woman' family...
thee sorry old story
of leaving your parents in
the gutter... your new father:
in-law: god bless his soul...
you ******* cleaving *****-worth-of
an-itching-monkey!
you! turnip quasi
aladdin's paladin and magic
carpet ride...
she allowed me to see
the corpse... 3 months: not a word...
and here are these...
puppets... bemoaning how unidealic
love forever is...
solvd me the question of
what love is:
this bogus cwy-baby pseudo:
irksome welsh "sympathy":
******* cwy-cwy: trill your
******* R!
tarantula bit you you can't start
a rolling escapade
with a tongue?
you some O'Haera or too drunk
too soiled to notice Irish?
let's just, hope... i...
haven't... the capacity to express
an authenticity of sorrow:
tilting on: "properly" with the:
authorities of who's to, read, what!
out of their own pockets:
it's... ******* free last time i heard!
question of bias...
this slap of meat:
will become either a plum poke tenderness...
or a brussel pate....
like they do in the prisons...
notably the russians...
they inject vaseline between
their knuckles... so they build
up a... pouch-of-a-fist...
no... oh no adrenaline shots... none
of the fairy liquid:
dandelions speak we dust it over
with unicorn horn dust...
n'ah... none of that...
it's my grandmother: i probably
should have not expected as little
as this... but then i like the idea
of her keeping up with
ghost theory...
she can haunt the castle
of her **** for: however more
concern for life is in her...
granny can *******, and how...
i might have... favoured her...
when she did... cwy... there's that welsh
spelling again...
but not come the advent of
a, death... take me up on seeing scenery with
you... any day: or the 3 months prior...
but... this...
of course: the limitations
of the conscience of liars:
you start to blame yourself:
oh why didn't... call...
you have to blame yourself:
she's not going to blame anything or anyone:
there are no exceptions to the rule:
thumbs galore!
seeing his corpse:
he did die...
having... kept...
an immaculate proof of fingernails...
an immaculate proof of fingernails
being kept: as swiss passport for an agreeable
handshake...
again: once more...
ask me tomorrow
and i'll reply likewise:
granny can die... if i ever see my
shadow fleeing:
that! i'll sooner mourn!
you would expect:
grannies are tender loving creatures...
unless my grandfather wasn't
a somewhat tamed lover of
keeping books... a philatelist... too...
i got it!
he just wasn't a don juan *******
philander of an unlimited access to:
***** liquor!
whatever the story:
there's just enough desired
discretion to pay homage and defend
the passing party...

both a philander and a philatelist?
what's next?
a zoologist and a d.j.?
i've ascribed myself an audience
with prostitutes:
the 3 Ps... priests... psychiatrists...
prostitutes...
in the current climate...
who's body's who?
i am mild mannered enough to know
that i'll be paying for a ****
rather than a free meal or a professional:
waggling of the tongue:
let alone the placebo of the corpus christi
*******... n'est ce pas?

yeah... just prescribe
me the ******* of the bull of Titian...
etc.
i'm sure to make enough
skin out of it for a Muhammed's rug
ed gein esque piece of:
fidgety: ain't it? unshaked ******* sack?
**** it... almost grainy...
stubble prone... begs the knees to question:
wha' and w-i-i?

unshackled extension of patterns
of predictable behaviour:
moi! contra ol' granny?!
shouldn't i have... none?
  n'ah: let us play the allowed game
of psychopathy...
who's watching, anyway?
it's not like we're going to sing a song...
a tiny little song in the centre
of the earth... wiener blut...
and what happened within the confines
of the fritzl case:
circus of horrors readied as freely
available bread! corpus... christi!

        by the looks of it...
there was ever only one individual
sentenced to undergo the torture
of being crucified..
only 'im alone... psychopath uno!
and i am... to mea culpa this sort
of *******?!
i would cling to islam as a janissary sooner
than i might clip a sheep's worth
of wool...
i don't like this sadomasochism...
no... i like the shape of my own shadow:
but how the hebrews and the greeks
will pursue: even being the toursits
come auschwitz! this shadow
of the cross..

i am a sheep attired in wolf-skins...
i sheepeople blah blah from time
to time...
who are you? who am i?!
ha!
i sometimes think of myself
as balaam... sometimes nero...
as ever... konrad von wallenrod!
in the hindu circus of reincarnation!
am i... ahem... not... allowed?!
i take to grimmace:
by the body entomped:
one soul "sold"...

granny can ******* nonetheless...
i belong elsewhere to start the argument:
ex nihil!
to praise looking for a raving
lunatic with too many words
in his mouth...
i think that's where "i think" coincides itself
for an ulterior purpose:
i suppose i breathe...
i propose that i also eat!
scraps of meat...
salted pork... works miracles
with the miracle men of the crescent moon!
as does the "excess" skin
of ******...
not that i would sacrifice my ******* *******
so easily...
i need to pretend to shake hands with
ghosts: forever...

oh you can have my tonsure my kippah:
prior to my *******...
any excess skin concerning the ****?!
ha ha!
i just want to make sure!
you... never... grit...
actually... can... ever... know...
who's playing who's game...
being so blatantly pass... arrogant...
with one's lies?!

i believe the horde... i believe the herd...
i'm yet: i am utmost...
questioning... the little... incy-wincy... spider...
details of... consceince unravelled...

yes: the universal percentage detail:
translates back toward all subjectivities!
a fraction of objectivity: 0.01%
will later govern all the subjectivities of
the 99.99: thus proclaimed:
sterile grieves!

how well connected are we: aren't we?!
we hope to suppose:
and a neighbour allows...
not that we: we just... bungie-jump
into a ***** of the social contract!
no one is readied for this side-project
of society...
oh... wait... the police are policing
hate crimes of "hate speech"...
**** it... ****... pillage...
the balkan states are ripe for an
ottoman takeover...
was i about to blink to imitate...
nodding?!

yet as much as i might sway with
a phatom lady:
upon pretending to toy with a tango:
my toes are replica shrapel toys
with the toils of grip:
my little details... at best
my least bitten-into toenails...
             how about i grow a beard
of a goat's concern...
or grace a camel with a metaphor
of a needle...

this one hebrew is by no means
a noah: i... have to... pretend a martin luther...
they have their ****** tel aviv and israel!
what's not to "like":
h'america?
isn't that project of inquiry
burning it solid last in a ******* toaster
of mc and o'
                     celtic broods concerning
who's to divide up Boston?

the jews have their: recovered land:
i'm sure they can take back
their prized tool of converting
the northern folk with them:
it's not like the polish concenctation camps
ever gave them the *****...
because... no! oh no!
the germans didn't know about them!
yiddish wasn't born into german...
it was also and always this:
pan-slavic gensture of:
will you please integrate:

well hello sheepeople!
  you almost were deserving this
congregative... charm...
            no offence... time the conquest
of france... and the... french resitance...
yeah... once the germans and the russians
came simultaneously...
to carve up...

like charles bukowski said:
the trannies, the gays and the jews
have all relevants "things" to say...
they're the power brokers...
we're just the imbecile:
ant esque drones...
trained monkeys...
    'becile crispness of the tongs...
leisuring wet brass...

we allow people such ghostly firaments
of purpose beyond their expected
concern for a grave:
we allow their little besooth lying...
how cheap and zombie-esque they have
to become: grandma in tow...
even these closest to us...

it's like we are forever tugging
a warring: total...
never helped by a prospect of calm...
forever from those closest to us...
b'ah!
take it from us from the most 3rd party
sincere...
there's hope:
you will never have to heave
to be expected to...

can i tell christ to *******?
no... he's not welcome!
if i have to use muslims for the task:
i'll happily be "coincident" -
test the role
myself via the roles of
janissaary or mamluk...

honestly? what can christianity offer me?
an aching pagan ritual hope
of an ailing translation of heaving?
who? the congregation
hybrid?
      no... scrificial lamb
on the satire of shadow with a cross...
come the mongol teasing
the mountain of skulls of baghdad:
and... england is still a place where
a shakespeare or a dickness is to be born...

me? i very much like the romance
of staging a janissaary or a mamluk
prospect...
who's dead and who:
looks like...
whittle ol' grandma
can *******: be on her way...
sooner my shadow runs off with
the sunrise than i might giver a shitload
of care: she could have prescribed me...
when alt-vater was breathing his last...
yes...
because hemarrhoids and periods
were... forever alien to us!
Tommy K Feb 2019
Men Are From Mars
Women Are From Venus
Gay Men Are From Uranus
Because They Like ******* And The *****.
Lesbians Are From Mercury
Trannies Are From Pluto
Hermes Are From Saturn
And That's How It Will Always Go.

(c)  5/1/2019
lol
july hearne Sep 2022
the queen is dead
the third worlders do not respect the indigenous
they want but can only ruin
they hate the white man, they hate the black man
they raise worthless children
while destroying their futures
they take too much pride in the failed third world

there is no diversity in asia
there is no diversity in the middle east
they invade, they colonize,
destroy GDP's
play both sides of the fence
and lose every single time
they are never accountable,
they are never ashamed

the queen is dead
her ******* son
answers to klaus schwab
her ******* grand daughter in law
answers to trannies and the intellectually inferior

they are all supremacists who ruin everything they touch
sewage begetting sewage
proud sewage,
such proud, proud sewage

there is always a sub-iqness about them no one wants to confront

the queen is dead
when the female subjects have a phalloplasty
when the male subjects have an orchiectomy

all the chloe's, zoe's, and hanna's dry out prematurely
men will never love them
their children, if they ever have any, will detest them

the queen is dead
the offshore teams and h1b workers of india
are about to replaced by automation
because they can not reason, they can not innovate, they can not even sustain,
there is such a disgusting, murderous greed in poverty

joe biden showers with his daughter
and ***** his pants

call me in a year
after you've lost things you didn't even know it was  possible to lose

— The End —