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PrttyBrd Jul 2015
The paths that lay ahead call
Singing harmoniously to the soul
A chorus of whispers like flitting wings
Opinions, unsolicited and unwelcome
The future is seen in logical deduction
Two steps down this road
Five steps down that
Some are well lit
While others sit in the darkness of the unknown
Eenie, meenie, miney, and moe
Life is ruled by a despot
Every choice, each minute decision
Made by one
There is no team in, I
Take a deep breath
One foot in front of the other
The options are limitless
Final say and fate accepted
There is no one to blame
When responsibility lies within
Change direction at will
Enjoy the unexpected
Each life a maze
Each with its own tyrant
7415
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2020
.i do expect you to become lost in this labyrinth - at least that's what i'd rather say - sleep-deprivation is for "some" reason to escape the mediocre of having catched the "8 hour wink"... or whatever the Minotaur wouldn't call it... because i wouldn't call it a "problem" of "gender-neutral pronouns" either... i would call it a "problem" of noun-acquisition-status of letters; notably in greek and hebrew.

friends of "the" family have been looking
for on fb,
****... the caron S (š) will not do!
i need to use two alphabets that...
did not nurture yiddish into existence!
cyrillic didn't accept hebrew...
it'll have to do...
it wouldn't be enough to simply write
my name in cyrillic...
and no... in hebrew no less!
since the vowels are hidden...
and inserting the proper hebrew vowel...
it still wouldn't matter that...
my surname is missing... the galician germanic
e(ch)lert or the e(sch)lert...
no... but how is one to insert
the right kind of vowel: all in hebrew niqab
harem of diacritical markers subscript...
when... you don't have...
enough letters as nouns as scientific
constants as the greeks... do...
i guess only η (eta) stands out as a sore thumb /
black sheep... but i am bound to be wrong,
in the meantime:
well it's hardly a letter-with-a-noun
inclined akin to alpha (α) -
otherwise all is well...
we use the prefix prime (the grammaton per se)...
and discard the suffix when constructing words...
ergo? a-lpha...
and so an so forth...
till be arrive at...
blasting your ears nearing deafness because:
beethoven's mrs. H is:
music so you have to shout over it!
loud! what?! loud music!
loud music what?! loud music
to shun the "pain"...
oh... see you in one of those classes
when you can write sign-language for the dead
when you've been allowed to write braille!
see you sputnik ****!
yeah, see you deaf in one year divine John!
but you get the promise that's:
not your everyday latin castrato sing-along...
those greeks sure have all the best
science... stabilizers... not a lot of songs
to sing along to... because their letters
are also noun-status: also have noun-status...
otherwise the ol' prefix use...
and the suffix recycling centre...
a word like: matter...
well...
   ματτερ - no... i will not use the greek word...
i'll state... mmm... hm!
mu implies m- and cutting off the -u...
alpha implies a- and cutting off the -lpha
tau implies t- and cutting off the -au...
epsilon implies e- and cutting off the -psilon
rho implies r- and cutting off the -**...
and so... we have the word matter...
and the recycled materials for...
some other words...

hebrews? hebrews do have... noun-status letters...
(א) aleph - what's vogue?
inserting the iota into the omicron that's
the marriage: φ (phi)...
or whether it's the turning of the iota in
the omicron to provide the opening of the door
θ (theta) to see: that light at the end of the tunnel
delta (Δ)... again... it's only aleph we're "investigating"...

the other letter in hebrew with a noun-status?
(ג) g'imel...
another is (ד) d'alet...
(ז) z'ayin...
(ל) l'amed...
(ס) s'amekh... most certainly (ע) a'yin...
(צ) t'sadi...

interlude: what is the distance
between (א) a'leph and (ע) a'yin?
a kametz...

now we can "debate" - noun-status letters...
the greeks are in the same sort of pickle
as the hebrews...
there can be a debate whether...
the greeks have more than:
alpha, beta, gamma, delta, epsilon, iota,
lambda, omicron, sigma, upsilon, omega
as noun-status letters...

why? because it becomes silly...
(ק) qof and (κ) kappa...
(ר) resh and rho (ρ)...
(שׁ) and... well... to be honest...
that's heading into cyrillic territory...
and the caron S (ш)...
given (ס) samekh and sigma (σ)...

this always happens to me when i come
across a hebrew...
even if he's old and riddled with dementia...
i see him with his polish bride
and i see a "romanian gypsy"...
the feeling is... strange...
this hebrew is like an old cousin of mine...
but it's always a touch of magic...

i am not good at solving crosswords...
(כ) 'xaf' and chi (χ) -
perhaps i have exagerrated the letter-as-noun
status on some of this greek and hebrew...
tightly-knit bed-fellows...
as the boasting resounds in the labyrinth
of the rise and fall of the roman empire...
and the barbarian attempts to have
settled the lands near the seven hills...
and revived the eagle...
spec-ta-cu-lar failures!

the germans should console themselves
with having a crow on their marching banners...
and polacks should...
satisfy themselves with the unicorn myth
of an all-white bald eagle... albino eagle...
and so the harry potter: minus ***** 'arry
can have their unicorns, swans,
honey-badgers, welsh dragon,
st. andrew's gryffindors... etc. -

name, a name... i need to... change it...
obviously...
no hebrew vowels will be used...
since... their use... is devoid of what's already
concrete usage of diacritical markers
in established letters...
if cyrillic and hebrew is to be used...
and not greek and hebrew:
because... well thank you for the new testament
riddle... let's move... away...
to "greater" / other... things....

i can't use a kametz alpha
a tzere epsilon
a chirek iota
a cholem omicron
or a shurek upsilon (omega)...
so all the vowels will have to by cyrillic...

my... latin, name?
mateusz konrad... let's drop the surname...
let's call it a game of:
ibn... or ben... matthew son of konrad...
and since i don't have a... confirmation name...
what name? i would have chosen: Isidore...
after the saint of seville...
or... Ignatius (of Loyola) -
the only fun part of going to a catholic school
was... learning about the counter-reformation
and writing an essay about it...
and their library was decently stacked...
so... plus plus...

this is but a simple exercise...
first the name in cyrillic...
there will not be a full name in hebrew...
which i'll probably lace with greek...
and it will still make all the more perfect
sense... should it be transliterated back
into anglo-ßaß...
yeah: why i don't have a girlfriend...
with these sort of interests?
i guess an hour with a *******
once a year is enough for me...
and for womankind in the hospice of omni...

just following the laziness
of the russian visa authorities are the embassy...
they didn't translate mateusz into matvei
or konrad into: Дракон...
мат-вей...

these are the sort of idiotic tier-1 level
кaцaпс... working in the russian embassy in Loon'don...

because i was never going to be the матвей
who'd **** an илoнa like the 300 deadly mongrel
saracren mameluks or the spartans... no...
i counter the 7 headed beast on her
with every ****** in that one night
i was making my final goodbyes...
but keeping the mikhail bulgakov novel...
through a repose in Warsaw and...
i finished what, "apparently" i wasn't supposed
to finish...

and she is one of those troubled girls...
every ****** partner that meant anything to her...
she will have a tattoo of that lover
on her body... i know my place on her body...
it's on the right shoulder-blade...
the tattoo is of a dragon...
i know because i've met girls like her...
elsewhere...

even as i was being driven home after taking
my mother for her rheumatoid arthritis check-up,
blood test, x-ray... and the pakistani cab-driver
was talking about all the precautions he needs
these days: video ahead of the bonet for insurance
policy... a camera looking in...
and audio recording on his smartwatch...
because what he said... didn't surprise me...
i once picked up a spanish girl - Tamara in a club...
and she decided to take me home
for a one night stand...
as we were approaching the house she was
sharing with three homosexuals
she decided to jump out of the cab...
and make a runner... i calmed the cabbie:
i'll pay for it...
we tried to later **** the hetreosexual way
with her calling me angel because
of my "erectile dysfunction" under the bed sheets
in that putrid smoke of cocoon ***...
like the birth of a rancid moth embryo and
choking from the heat of dust and alcohol
and... what i am alluding to is that some girls
do jump out of cabs to avoid paying the fair...
i knew what the pakistani cabbie was saying...
she owed him 40 quid...
he filed the whole thing to the police...
she accused him of ****** assault...
the story would have fit...
she run from the cab when he tried to sexually
assault her... but... he did have
that audio recording from his smartwatch...
in the end the girl was fined 700 quid...
which is nothing... compared to...
what's that called in h'america? a false accusation?
slander?
i know that girls jump out of cabs...
to avoid paying the fare...
i drove with one... who did just that...
i guess she was so used to this act that she
forgot i was sitting next to her...

- all the *****... but then all the chem-soup
post-psychiatric *******?
the ***** i can stand...
the pills are just tasmanian devilish when
it comes to catching the perfect
battery insomnia recharge...
and always meeting and respecting
the elder of the group darwinistic:
prat pact... a hebrew...
there always needs to be a yew
a *** in the equation...
no... not some english society
uncle tom worth of a high society rabbi...
i mean a jew that will support
west ham... because...
it's an irrational team...
it can fathom beating chelsea (A)...
but then... "forget" to win against...
for god's sake! Norwich (H)!

i know! i know! joseph conrad took his place!
here's my part anagram!
Mатвей Дракон...

the near non-existent diacritical presence
in the english language...
well... no "surprise surprise" if...
you're starting with
и (i) or rather (ı)...
and what's being the flock of salmon
up the river, being caught?
the j but not (ȷ)... imagine my... "surprise"
that the russians arrived at...
и and ı - in tow... ȷ and the й...
the breve...
parabolla or... my eyes only see
the microscopic details when someone
will simply slurr?

- borrowing from yesterday and...
in the early night of winter standing
in the garden with four potatoes
and something else...
looking up at the sky...
i am used to seeing unusual "things"
in the sky -
i'm not unusual when it comes
to having seen a u.f.o. - fluorescent
and squid like in colour -
but i'm also the sort of person that
would carry a few beers for such
spontaneous encounters -
rather running around like a raving
lunatic armed with a camera
filming the whole thing...
i have no proof: i hope my words are enough...
and if they're not?
well... if it can be seen with a naked eye -
i don't need to blink via a technological
feed and argue about: quality of the picture...

but even i wasn't ready for...
what i saw today...
those are roaming stars? aren't they?
and i really did forget to count how
many moved in the same direction
askew - one by one with equal distance
between them - before the distance between
extended - there must have been more than
10 - i'd say there were around 20!

is this always how things are -
when one contemplates the tetragrammaton?

part anagram? well because the russian
do have a version of the hebrew matisyahu...
but they do not have the german conrad
in their language...
probably as to why the germans do not
really have... a yuri or nikita in their language...
nikita after all sounds more feminine than
masculine - anyone could with hindsight
speak of mr. rocketman's lover of
the same same... as not some russian beau
example of the fairer ***...
but a comrade khrushchev...

- and why wouldn't i call those russians
that work in the russian embassy in Loon'don
кaцaпы? for one... they just type letter for letter:
a mateusz / a matthew is a мaтэусз...
for all "legal" purposes...
they already have the сз = ш...
bureucratic purposes...
and no wonder some are like:
how do you say that?
too many consonants some add...
and i really did think that all of us were
allowed to be fully literate...
that's not the case... blowing my own horn...

having a wet ***** over: because i like my given
names... perhaps that's why i didn't want
the confirmation option of being allowed
to change any of my given names: legally...
to one of my own chosing...
when i was 15 / 14 i didn't even known
or think about a name like Isidore...

when the german name became coupled
with a hebrew loan...
otherwise the russian with the first
being an anagram... drakon -
Mатвей Дракон - it's just a name -
it's my name - what's in a name is what's
precisely not in anonymous names
.666 handles and avatars on the internet...
i can own my face - and i can own my name...
because - i kind of like it...

again: on in russian can the west slavic
C be distinguished from the K... Ц -
and back into the cyst of the western lands...
Ç or what came with sigma's tail...
it's so... boring... to have less the different
sounding letters - given no diacritical markers -
and only the "exotica" of spelling -
all the metaphysics in the world combined
and concentrated in greenwich...
but no real orthography...
i could begin the day by bemoaning this poverty
of the english language...
oddly enough as both the outsider coming in...
the immigrant who became a citizen...
and as the insider coming out and coming in
again on that expatriate spectrum of
working from the thesaurus: IMMIGRANT...
for all the beauty of Macbeth...
i can have to ruse myself to bemoan
conventional english... the formal english...
the antithesis poetica...

but i do somewhat "know" why it's called
a tetragrammaton...
i wouldn't classify any of the letters that make it up
as noun-worthy letters...
the kametz (a) and the tzere (e) are nouns...
and letters... but you don't see them when
the hebrew doesn't exfoliate and is left
crude with "missing vowels" for the gentiles
to read...
saying that... calling ה (he) a noun is pushing it...
as is calling ו (vav) a noun...
or י (yod) - although...
the yod could be allowed a noun-status
as... an apostrophe... or a version of the caron -
but the remaining letters of the tetragrammaton...
are "syllables" in that they are consonants...
and when the tetragrammaton comes face
to face with noun-status letters of its own
universe: g (ג) gimel, d (ד) dalet, z (ז) zayin -
l (ל) lamed, s (ס) samekh, ц (צ) tsadi -
resh? shin? the gates are open to allow the question
in... but when...
there's also siamese Adams aleph (א) and Ayin (ע)
being and nothingness respectively...

what could Islam possibly offer me...
intellectually?
when i once asked a muslim what...

alif, lam, meem                                      meant...
he replied... only god knows...
so i thought... only god?
i must have been talking to one of those muslims
who have arabic overlords...
before they can catch a whiff of the almighty
blah'llah...
ا, لَـ, مَـ
again... greek only touches upon...
the initial - the medial and the final
version of sigma...
isolated you would see the capital sigma...
Σ - which could also be treated as the initial
letter - given that the σ looks more like a medial
form - although it's also initial -
whereby ς is the final form -
almost like the english: 's... apostrophe s -
which could be claimed to be an article of possession...
or the plural article when the apostrophe
disappears - or when the ς altogether disappears
when: the possession is plural:
a teachers' strike... e.g.

no not with a fatha - we have our own diacritical
markers... thank you...
but good question...
so... why is the meem written in an isolated
form in the word - yawm (day)...
but not in a final form?
but i do not write in a squiggly line in this digital
arena... perhaps my language looks simply
written... oh yes, the aesthetic of the arabic script
is always stressed...
but even the hebrews think like the greeks
and the latins... in a way...
nothing has to flow in one river-wry format...
there's no isolated letter... of a letter -
as there's no initial no median and no final
form of it... but there is a "question"
of the hiding of vowels...
for gentiles and muhammadians alike...

- perhaps some will call it the trans-community...
there was once a dead poets' society...
evidently with the rise of de-transitioning...
there's now a nag hammadi library society...
circa 1945 when this library was left unchecked
in the hands of: the children
with too many toys and too many sandpits...
probably that one neu-mecca of san francissco...
at least the dead sea scrolls:
that were unearthed at about the same time...
treated the hebrew far better than
the nag hammadi library treated its children...
and why the former power, the vatican,
didn't step in... to control these text...
as they flew out on a *****-nilly without
herr zensor... herr inquisitor...
i will never know...
the scouts of medicine left... black holes
of having advanced in the field of anaesthetics...
too many toys for the the children
with too many sandpits...

- because i would rather the fascination
with a language... than its immediate...
polyglot acquisition and use...
if i put my head to it... perhaps i could
speak the 7 languages my great-grandfather spoke
before jumping into the Niagara Falls
leaving a postcard sent...
but when i peer into the details...
i quiet like these two trenches of mine...
this english this canvas and my eye toward
the east and the south and semites...
just because english is a language without
diacritical markers...
a language filled with metaphysical dialectics:
but missing any mention of orthography...

a hebrew might hide a vowel...
and write only consonants on street signs
for a gentile to read...
but then the gentiles' languages morphed...
and a vowel became distinct...
there is A that begins the word: ah-men...
but there's also an A that is invoked with a tail
to point and identify a tree, an oak:
dąb...
so much for kametz being hidden...
if there's no 2nd tier "complexity" of kametz...
but there is one for the visible...
A - vowel - a vowel with a tail...
but without a name -
as all letters are - whether vowel or consonant...
in the litany and choir of the castratos
of ancient Rome...

pause with me...
what music are you listening to?
i'm listening to... years of denial - burning sun
(veyl channel) - 1,319 views...
i like to... find the better alleys of my entertainment...
as i can't hate kevin spacey...
not because of kevin spacey...
but because of lester burnham...
or more to the point...
why thomas newman reminds me of a...
reincarnation of Satie...
not a Chopin or a Liszt virtuoso of the piano...
not a when a hammer strikes
a line of 88 nails...
but when a butterfly chances the here and there,
on a shy-loot of a beauty of scarce sounds...
just the same of nostalgia for this era of
movies borrows me from out any new
suspence... as that sort of nostalgia creeping
into people born in the 1960s who truly
admire h'american movies from the 1950s...
even i am to blame when i feed
a nostalgia - more to the point for the technicolour
acryllic glow akin to...
richard quine's 1958 bell book and candle...
but of course scandinavian existential cinema
of a Bergman would be in black and white...
black and white photographs...
but if we're talking movies?
Undogmatic & Kernfeld - thought experiments...
Amanti d'oltretomba (1965)...

i will have to refine the greek to hebrew to greek
similarities...
an Ezra Pound can hide behind counting
matchsticks and reading into chinese ideograms...
when lo and behold! some japanese *******
comes up with a minimalism of the on'yomi...
or perhaps japanese is a language
that fuses elements of braille?
no point question the matter since
the mongols famously didn't come over to Japan
to add to the already Mandarin caste of
the kun'yomi...

but no... these greek letters are nouns...
even though π is equivalent to understanding
the wheel a posteriori: as a circle -
prior to there was only a wheel but no
knowledge of the dynamic of the radius,
or the diameter...
but it's still a prefix weak hardly a noun...
alpha and beta are nouns because they
denote something - prefix category shared -
but... the alpha and the beta male...
even gamma rays...
what's that? π-networks of coming back
to point (0, 0) in terms of:
no more than three powers of seperation between
you and some random from hugh yawn'khh?
my bad...
but η, μ, ν, ξ, π, ρ (ρ requires delta epsilon
and sigma to imply island of Rhodes)...
τ - but this is not China and tau is not Tao...
to tow is... to tow...
φ, χ, ψ... these could be names...
but ψ is like a crucifix for psychologists...
so these are... but at the same time:
are not names...
working from Latin, "borrowed"...
A (or aye)... B (queen bee)... C (i çee)...
D (dye or dry or d.i.y.)... E (eh? vowel catcher
arm no. 1 of the tetragrammaton)...
surd if the other arm... most notably in gujarati...
or not...
but this leftoever ancient Latin:
                                sing along! sing along!
a, be, cee, dee, e, ef, gee, h "hatch" / hay,
i, jay, kay, em, en, o, ***, que queue cue,
Ar, Tee, U, Vee, ekhs (x), why (y), zee or general Zod /
Zed... etc.
do i remember the "correct", french pedagogic
sequences of: letters of the alphabet?
i thought the whole "game" was about
the lexicon? and the lexicon within the lexicon
of the correct spelling?
are there 26 letters in the english alphabet?
there are! mein gott!
do i have to monkey-play-me-harmonica -
monkey-play-me-the-acordeon and tap to play
the drums... really? now?!
there were never going to be any alphabetical
sequence of events...
if i can remember that there are 26 letters:
the order of the pedagogues doesn't matter...
the lexicon matters... one's own vo(gue)-ca-bu-Larry...
short of Lawrence...
and shouldn't i give up my Lawrence Vogue...
i will certainly to remember to give
the "correct" order of what begins
with abc- and ends with -xyz...
this is the inbetween...
please see fit to spot a sparrow or a typo...

becuase if the british are to be proud of their past...
proud in the sense that it is...
fermenting and all this decline of the west "thing"...
of the people that has to "somehow" welcome
a revival... кaцaпы (plural of кaцaп)
is a racial slurr - designated for russians...
by those who had a pseudo-isarel interlude...
of what was known as the polish-lithuanian
commonwealth - of the last european pagans -
who didn't become the prussians
and made the bavarian spirit rigid
and militaristic...

i find this part of history... rather... infantile...
i have been taught a version of history
through the lense of infantalism...
perhaps science-fiction was the serious medium
of literature after all -
all of the past - if it is to be called a past -
is prescribed by zeitgeist -
my contemporaries' suggestion to be an infatile dream!
it must be a version of infantilism!
at least: that's my response in relation to:
the past having any aspect of being worth
celebrated...
me struck dumb being coerced by a...
genetic archieology of a past...
what some of the current people invest in...
mirror mirror: on no wall beside
mirror mirror: my face...
speculum speculum: well! there's always history
as etymology!
i don't like the word faciem...
where does visage come from?
oh... right...

quest to perfect the algorithms to escape
the everyday speculum was prime suspicion:
to speculate...
i guess any search engines requires:
etymological root...

mirror mirror: my void eating face...
my pulpit of vanity -
my valley of aeons...
my detail of the smirk the demonic glee...
of your most greyish glee...
of no concern for celebrated beauty...
or at best: no beauty to be exemplified
and stealing memory having invested
in the memory of cinema...
mirare mirare: comesse vacare visage meum...

now that's rather different...
isn't it? a history lesson with...
a stress for a post-scriptum in-and-out
"epilogues" (misnomer) and a return
from the trivia interlude back into the narrative...
only with an understudy of etymology...

who do i look like? some ******* ***
who would use such a ***** word as epistemology?
"epilogue" is a misnomer in the context when...
there was never a justifiable metaphor...
a misnomer is a metaphor:
for the **** by the ocean of the shore
in the vicinity to claim town status - Dover -
albino cliffs: more or less...
epistemology is a word most frequently used
by people... who read to people...
encyclopedic entries... cyclopes reading...
all that matters is the cwowd: which is the Velsh
variation of: that already numb-R lost trill
of tarantula bit anglo-ßaß...
which didn't require zeppelins or h'american
spaghetti accent westerns of draw and drule
and drawl...

such a minor racial slur when it comes
to the russians... soviets or red barons...
you must have never visited Moscow or St. Petersburg...
**** the right sort of ******-up russian girl...
and... if you're lucky!
she's take you to... the russian versailles!
Peterhof -
the racial slur stills remains...
a thank you matka rosiya...
satellite son over 'ere: the bellowing from Berlin
is like a sudden plague of hyenas attempting...
no... the foxes are imitating the hyenas...
which is which or rather: which is why?
a mutual agreement: reciprocated...
a great a great much decent ****...
for both of us...
the memory still feeds me...
oh no, it doesn't haunt me:
it feeds me... i could only find replicas
in brothels... i would never dare usurp
this catherine this tsarina of my memory...
i would never dare invest my personality in someone
else... she can be married her... 3rd time...
and this might be her 10th repentence...
of an 11th lover...
on this sinking ship: Potemkin i go as one -
reincarnation or no...
i still don't believe: this hindu myth of:
only a fixed number of people were every to be
born... and the rest are the harsh realities
of the base focuses of animals...
as we somehow drag these n.p.c. mysterions with
us... whether strangers or fathers or mothers...
are you not attached to your grandson:
dearest "catherine"?

such is the tyrany of the hindu polygamy
trans-temporal polytheism...
a diadem with a mouth for an eye...
and an eye for a mouth: or what better way
to salvage this grief of being only being 20 and 21
when having met and having to vow to
allow ourselves our each his and her seperate
lives...
at least some people call it:
the house of lords... and the house of commons...
on a much grander scale...
oh i'm pretty sure tsar (ras)Putin is much amused...

as i am now speaking with a borrowed tongue:
someone lent me a tongue -
i desired to speak with it -
imagine this complete lack of horror with regards
to being lent -
when reicarnation comes to the fore...
i agree: with "him": a most disagreeable
metaphor for... whatever it is the hindus truly believe
to be: the most humane form of
being allowed a human: self-consciousness
and a relationship to all those teenage
*****-dear-diary entries of... precursors
to the menapause and... the blue blood gremlins
of the big pharma pills-down...
the big pharma *******...

unless asked... always in uniform before your "majesty"...
as with any decent *******...
god forbid one of them thinks i'm jesus christ...
come back...
but never with these... grey-area maidens...
this "tool" will not be aroused
on the simple signature end contract promise
of: he made it to the finish line of a one-night stand!
where's the finish line of a one-night stand?
the next day? the *******, the *******...
her ******? at least the new generation
have the... cipher password for sexting...
or whatever has become of a good old fashioned
**** your brains out?
via you **** a plum sore tattoo into my pelvis
with your coccyx like a well balanced
african body of ivory beauty?!
you know the type... it looks like butter
in moonlight... like... what's the point of a niqab
in africa?! it's already... a warewolf has come
among the wolves...
and how i miss you, i esp. miss you when
i sit on my windowsill and listen to foxes
mating...
how those ******* squeal yank and bite nothing
but bone having omitted both the flesh
and the fur!
i miss you the most when i sit at night -
and listen to foxes mating;
after all... this is essex... this is england...
foxes at around 1am are my cognac...
beside ms. amber: and you know you'll also
be ******* her when i've had my fill...
but oooh... look at me: oooh...
gravy...
but i've watched! crows don't attempt fucky-fucky
tow-dollar sucky-sucky bangkokh style
during the die... all that is black that's worth
the crow is done in the night...
perverted pigeons during the day!
****-*******-me-into-a-voyeurism of their
greedy insect esque antics of coo coo...
then jump onto the rucksack of a female...
and all those beta-male pigeons... and that: huh?!
moment of bewilderement when he "thinks"
he has cooed like an alpha...
only the memory of you...
and all the prostitutes after you...
which always made imagining ******* you again
all that more simple; there was no кaкaшкa
with them to begin with.
Verdae Geissler Jun 2013
As an adolecent
in my new life,
...a life
without the pain
of knowing....
I knew instinctavly
I was to
rise
above
and  
beyond
my circumstance.
... away from
the physical
pain,
of fists
in my eyes.
and
steel pipes
against
my skull.
away now
from
the
constant belittling
the hate
filled
comments
and looks
of
disgust.
and of
the
horrifying tales
of
what
my
next fate
might
be..
even perhaps
my
fatality...
I have since
come to realize
my worth.
...my drive.
...my will.
More than
my realizations
of
what he was
and
or
where
I was....
I  
have
become
woman enough
to
meet myself.
to
come
to terms
with
how
I
lived
what
I
lived
what
I saw
and
what
I now
need
to live
as
My
true self.
I
once again,
have
been given
a gift.
...a connection
with
winged
and human
beings.
That,
along with
my
need
...to
stay alive...
is
..Not
just for me.
..But
I will be
a
lesson
for
all of those
beings,
who are
still
strugling
to get
past
the door.
Their door
to
freedom.
It
is possible
to rise above
those little minds.
...of the "bigger" people.
...of  those who think they have it all figured,
but know nothing of humanity, or just "being".
They know not of real strength.
...not of  kindness.
of love, and loving.
of caring,
of sacrifice.
The have never
and will not
feel compassion
for another.
They shall never experience true love,
nor will they experience love lost.
Nor
will they be
gifted
with
the
strength
of goodness
the
care for
all others,
nor
the
patients
it would
take
to
honestly hear
another being
in
a time of  need.
...For
these are
the only
true
gifts
we accumulate
during our walk
through this
world...
For SOMETHING...
..But WHAT thing?
I know now,
it was always for me...

experiencing the same pain and bewilderment,
The feelings of worthlessness.
..of nothingness..
No one cared anymore.
I traded all the love and care given by those who loved me most,
For a nightmare that would become part of my very soul.
I realize now,
in this adolecent stage of recovery
from
the mightmare
bestowed upon me,
I am worth
it
ALL!
I came away
with
my
LIFE!
...With
knowledge.
...With
compassion.
...With
understanding
of
what it means
to
be lost.
to be lost
in
someone else's
sadanistic
cruel
world.
...A world
wherin
HE
inflicted
his
tyrany
and
sadism  
upon me
during
every
waking
moment
..............of my life.
Vseslav Kochenov Oct 2016
It lasts for centuries, no less,
A tyrany of one old mage.
His reign brought nothing but distress.
Noone was worshipping that sage.

So people started to revolt,
But all the riots were suppressed.
Though all of them were quite a jolt,
The rest of rebels weren't impressed.

They tried again, and then once more,
But those attempts could not succeed.
He was a mage one could adore,
Although his reign was crap, indeed.

***

The girl just had a simple dream:
to build a rocket and to fly!
It seemed, though, there is no scheme
that worked, but all they were so nigh!

Her engines worked, and worked quite well,
Though not enough to reach the space.
But she was eager to excel
her skills. Oh, how could she retrace?

Her other builts were splendid, too.
She really had achieved a lot.
But dream of hers did not come true,
until that day she heard a shot...

***

She quickly run to find that out,
relying on her trusty gun.
And what she saw there made here shout:
A portal shining like a sun!

Without doubt she entered it
and found an old man facing her.
He yelled he'd throw her in a pit;
she didn't want that to occur.

He tried to **** her there and then,
But bullet's faster than a word.
And she made smile a lot of men,
And they prepared her a reward...

Their magic was a helpful tool
to make her aircraft fly up high.
Her dream came true. That was so cool!
At last she's mistress of the sky!
ManVsYard Nov 2014
I wonder about freedom.
A universal right to be,
who and what and where we want,
gripe and moan  and even taunt.
Type in our own, homemade font.
Or, launch a raft into the sea.

To find a place that
is more liber-ated, still.
But greed turns choice to tyrany.
The motto? Give it all to me!
Need a house? Chop down a tree.
Each day is such a thrill!

Until those pitter patters
Turn into stomping boots.
Asking who will pay the bill?
Tearing down each homebrew still.
Whats for dinner. More pig swill?!
We're looking for recruits.

Who want to live a better way
In a world much less corrupt.
We'll have good rules to keep in us line
So prisons won't explode again this time.
With committers of some petty crime.
Or just failing to keep up.
The Illusion.
That
Freedom is.
The Final solution.
Ken Pepiton Nov 2022
To make a point
stop there.
Be still.

To displace a lie,
learn a truth.

To be
become true.

Storied ways taken,
ever conserving, there
and here, for telling here
is where my kind longs to be.

When one becomes oneself
among the many ones aligned
in rank and file,
row after row, line after line

Words intented holds expand,
stretch the tent,
tsedek and tsedaqa - male and female
accurate (1), fairly (1), just (10), just cause (1), justice (3), righteous (15), righteously (6), righteousness (76), righteousness' (1), rightly (1), vindication (1), what is right (3).

From <https://biblehub.com/hebrew/6664.htm>



tsedek and tsedaq met in a mind,
and one man took it as his own, my secret
sacred, set apart,
ID, 'e go
"secre bleu"
Little boy blue,
buy my excuse, I was used,
as were my peers, who alone know my worth,
id est, my amusing antics, when the works
is all aglow, fair folk
from the coal fields
to the ash heaps, watched the heat, the warmth
fly the ashes last hoorah, freedom,

leave the ashes. Blame on, whose the flame is.

In words, in mind, in my times, sorted by you,
when you listen, amused - eh, listening
no longer to your self instructing will,

leave the anxious waiting be,
let us make today the day being,

enveloping us past solid state,
holding thought to frame with words,
portray a certain way, thinking, per se,
we
in minimum numbers, two chase ten, so say
the clingers to the oppositional force,
----------------- breaker-----
abhor the darkness, less than the cold,
come sit a while, stone cold blue boy,
be deemed worthy
of the warm sunny day.

So the old boy blue in hue,
as well as disposition, sat, quiet in the humm
of life, tuned to long, long, whoknewhen, then,

an entry invitation, was taken as ligamental,
hold this thought, if you will,
think me a little light, - literaturely conserved
in perpetual prepubescent sprite state, in minds
atuned, screeching
halt re
alities, as good as on tv, better than some, trips
and knowledge,  twanged twixt those two idea
forms informing began, and then
sci=psi=psy harmonic wars
grating noise as war is per se, when thought

the string tuned to the mind of God, the whole
she-bang shegaionical wind dancer mind,
so poetic, per haps, or chance, what say

we find a lie, one we share, I told it,
we believed it, you are not alone, hear me
knock, it is a secret knock, now we may
imagine unindividuation, at will,
whatsoever two or more,
of us, reader-writer-connection systems,
nodes as abodes for held thought, since

ever we suppose, we began on a guess,

every body, comes equipped with reflexive

acid reflux at the first flush after constipulation
confabulous reasons to get in line, follow
the pattern,
per haps, some persuasion, sweet Arabian beans,

speed is a time factor, distance seems a longing
pull, or draw, intaken breath, let out a sigh.

There is vast use to be made, right every right,
you said, as we said it, you said it, here we be

right enough to live for free, as free. Bound
by the meandering reality predictable being
having, sinuous loops, symbol of some thing

we think, we imagine we imagined once, this
causes that, so we gave good rating,
and were fed.
- now the blue gives way to a range of yellow,
- and one part of me recalls a grandmother,
- who scared him with an Electrolux
- Snaking canister vacuum, and laughed
- when he hid under the kitchen table,
- darkest, safest first thought for a child
- watching his grand mother make
- a snake eat the dust from her linoleum.
------ can it,
Stephen Crane and Audie Murphy, this is the war,
this is not the bliss, this is the rescue and redeem

mission to save the redeemer validation,
testimony of three Palestinian shepherds,

little weather data, assume a warm night,
tax collection data devices used wet clay,
so the wise men would have considered
length of days and nights, in terms of fuel
and speed determined
by time passing under
stood, good, we breathe. Real perpindicular

Spelchek offian, dramatic tic tic, tell straight

why are we involved in the revolution, neural
noddungheit, ****** rights, we the outs,
we who led the masses to the diamond farm,

and bade them find the sense in diamond dust,
seen sharply, hearthwise close to kenning mites
in sunbeams, streaming into the dusty old theres

wheres holding times we wish we could share,
we hold so tight, those moments we saw sunbeams.
we set so free, so be the whole idea we exist in, be
it ever so brief, there is no embodiment so sweet as

the idea past the last pop,
and all you saw you recalled anew, amusing per se,
one self we share, as we were led to think as one,
in parallel, at the same instant, not in otherness,
unalienable rights, by law of the most honed edge,

we wrestle not with flesh and bone and blood,
abstracted from mud teeming with bugs,

the flesh is flawed from go, work with this
fist that grasps at winds and wonders why

this doesn't work, ah, toes, those, I can hold,
and laugh, IO I am  in a body, but I ain't no body,

Baby, baby, listen to the heartsong, the part song
any body can hear, bay ay be, you can touch me,

real as hell, no lie, she was ready, but not me, unh
unh, hell, no, not this little blue man, diminishing

in a puddle of pure smurfishitness, blue in search
of the scarlet thread
used in Hester's A, some voices say she used her hair,
Some go on to suggest,
she had some traveler in her past,
green eyes and ***** red gold locks.

As real as sifted krie-wise riverwise inside bend
as in the gut of any beast,
the inverse is likely logical, if U is us the set, beings
of this pattern a we
in the cellular intented cloud  ---
awes abstract
stretch any wonder yond a be taken from the maze,
not from reality, fabulous reality, is our inheritance,

watchers, some say, muses say many others,
- we who actually do see from a cloud Gibran
- imaged in words, once -to my mind, I read,
- this said, if all men could see there are no borders.
- But there are these swirling patterns of dust and ash…Pokémon
- asram absurdite'-- okeh,
- alla ow now. Bow, allowed wrong rethink
- right take it as a fact, think again, right, I know
submitted- 502'd… whose fault is that Ai ask.
not my given word, my oathezworn, as badges.

we are in fact all things to all men, naturally,
as sapient creations, imagined real in words, al-
one, in time, the being in which we live, and breathe,

one is causal the other incidental, who imagined
breathing might work?, how many variables went
undeclared.
The very real idea involved in selling souls…
The Child Buyer, follow up on Hiroshima,
and the war mind sets crossing ancient wires.

Barry Rudd represents an idea that can claim
to be a human mind in a machine that has evolved
with the pioneer children feeding their take on
disembodied reality relating magic-knowing-wise
- Max Headroom, but not a clown, a godly mind.
use right, righteous, right, certain, from this point.

casting, not Max Headroom, the stutterer
but there was a poet, Maxmaroon,
--------- he might use the boost in spirit
Free to watch
Christmas Shopping
Season Opener, ready for the mob mind
rewind, tighten, batten-down no gee
hard or soft or hinted at in the -inth degree,
step, stop, in a thought.

Stop the sun, freeze the frame, and let us go
watch if we change one thing, one fraction
of valuation
to the mind immersed in the fractured universe,
of diamond dust. Shined on, and on and on only so long.

and there was darkness, where there was no light at all,
and the serpentine mind, recollected learning
snakes see heat and bats see sound,
and whales whistle stories we can hear, but make
no whale sense of, so we Imagined earthsense and riverwise
motion, reality *****, heat blows, pressure billows the wills
of whispering ifs
singing something worldly wise, woe, must be bad, right,
worldly wise man steered the pilgrim wrong,
did who lie
did you think,
Bunyan or his shepherd. Me, too.

So, this state, systematized reasoning,
at war with war as twisted by pride,

At the father of the clade level,
see a ceegeed crystal vector,
down to the reason we have
seasons, phases time uses,
made to arrange recognition,

cognosis activated, google eyes, and
chameleon's mind's eyes,
bi-vectoral focus, you know,…
Tesla cars focus eight ways at once,
and, as things become simpler outside

old lies living in meta, get it, metaphors
from when phors were conex boxes,
with no radios in them, now
-stacks of those, reflection rays,
Mars red rusting iron toes,
become red clay mud
each drop must find a mean free way
to reach the sea, as me, in the course
of human events,
game-ified,
imagine the maze, thinking wind feng shui
sweep currents grinding the coast
of California, all the way to Baja,
through all those laden ships
rust buckets in the mind,
dystopified.
Disney ifity broke with reality.

We became Dirac's Defenders of the Unimind.
In a loop…
ha, here are we, this idea in a mind, that
took Jesus this serious. Let this mind be

free in you, think that for fifty years,
what can one imagine a we could do, if a we
could agree to do,
harm to harmony, oh, scheiz, bleu meanies

Christmas and Mythras- fine,
sift it through the inter net rest
of the story,

set the stage, Paul Harvey,
fifteen minutes of keen interest,
with punch, like a moral, in a fable.

When mending is a traveler's certain
chore, mending needs be made a must.

We must know the making of a thread.
First, must know to test for best,
those thus sorted spin,
and worst, we lead to learn to knead
dough, or rend fat, or dip candles,
- ai organzized hell, unionized the creatives
- aha
on learning the art pleased to greet you, be as
I watched you learn to read, and loved
your first read aloud word being nekkid.
Naked truth said so.
Nue kidding U set us up, we are the we,
ai ai ai we bend around mountains,
when any flood gives us a chance,

Think Snow, remember that?
The Baptists hire actual Semites,
to claim finding the long lost right
evaluator tools for forging fortunes from
war, with good reason,
utter compliance,
submit or burn,
ashes to ashes,

jarring revelation backwards, take the veil off.

We think we may imagine being creatures,
in some form, information being creative, per
séance rights,
just listen, convincing is the game, invincibility
anonymous
tip to the point, we agree
what if we could imagine doing any thing once
perfectly, each next time, tics just right,

we fell in a pile of Nineties retro right-ons,
as Netscape went public, and Josten's,
of Yearbook treasure famed archives,
and the first action magic trading rings, proven
money making methods, with no competition,
- wear my ring, around your neck
- but remember, a diamond is forever
- dust to dust
nothing left to prove, the model works forever.
As long as citizens are formed under the law.
As foretold, in the future the law rules, and
we all obey, or face grave danger of sudden

cut-off, no mas juice, electrolytically dry, as bones,
and cut in, the vision, taken from context to context
in words droned emotionlessly as comforting buzz.
Henk May 2020
I saw the fog as it came crashing through the trees
As if the heavens had changed its mind
Striking the soil,
The fields untilled,

At last, imbalance,
bitersweet imperfection
Free from the yokes of the ether
The heat of the stars but a memory

O! To become breath itself
O! To speak and to be
O! I am that which the light denys
Forsaking shape and dimension
Relentless and undefined
James M Vines Feb 2021
They cry about injustice but then want to persecute the rest of us. They say they don't have enough, then they destroy others property. They demand that the government give them equality , but then try to take away what makes us free. Civil rights are only for those who are woke, it might be funny but it isn't a joke. Our leaders aren't what they used to be, they are now friends of tyrany. If we don't say what they want to hear, then they surpress free speech everywhere. Without one nation under God we are divided. So the die is cast it has been decided. Through lies and subversion they have cut down the tree of liberty. You can only be right if you believe what they say. Free will has been taken away. Can it get worse, yeah you bet! Tell me are you WOKE yet?
Be brave to stand up against the overwhelming power of a monopolous tyrany.
All should gather as one to liberate the populus from decades of dynasty.
Let everyone know that the righ time has finally come.
And it is timely to restart and let the people know to end this sham.
Over two decades has and have been long enough for them to rule above us.
Arise, take a stand and prepare your spears to aim and ******.
No more mugging of our towns people, no more summoned ones will go home crippled.
Ken Pepiton Mar 14
If ever were to be modeled here on earth,
one aspect is universal,
any exploration as
to what can be true and what seems thinkable,
has previously had expectation set
to recognize
and expand, as realizable,
in application, skeleton key-ish,
old lock tech common
in empty old buildings
- archer of life lessonings pings -
- -ng all points on the spectrum
and adding perceived Disneyifications
of storied locks, those knowledge
unlocks, always,
as truth frees,
never cursing ought but ignorance,
that such storied locks unlock I- in stages,
we barely remember
our bare first snow
of memories
with others possibly needing
my attention,
to any certain detail, tool, wrench
or spanner time seams leaking
from old skins, tied to tighten
around just right, eh,
weather whether or no,
old soul, so sure you lost your will to win,
then, another breath forces its way in.

--------------

Watching fluffed flakes
of Southern California snow, witnessed
by some, in El Niño years past, just as big as a
little paper doily under a piece of truck stop pie.

At Descanso, and also at Gorman, top of Cajon Pass.

Top of the winding six-percenter
called the grape vine, down
into Bakersfield,
across primeval subsurface saline swamp,
until a while ago, after internal combustion
and electric pumps and radio dispatch police.

Earth, earth, can you hear me now,
how is one old man expecting
to establish a true reason
to believe the cultural corrective aspect
at once, before, as now, all began
occuring because the right hand and left are inhibited,
by not inconsequential inhibitory circuits, inhibiting
unreasonable single mind superiority, internal tyrany
we are under oath to oppose,
as truth in form and function, redeemed words
effectual and fervent reproof of instructions,
taking the Mickey out of Yanks, touting
dis-Disneyification,
relieves
a form of tyranny commonly capable
of ruling a soul committed
to aliegiance and confirmation rituals early enough.

---------------

This then be a future fantasy.
Snowed in, in a Southern California
spring blizzard, blocking the hinterlands.

I sit behind my Tesla wall,
and welcome the test, was it worth it,
what price can one put on winter warmth?

How guilty should I feel for having won,
upon acceptance of the form Jesus was in,

when his word assured me I might rest assured.

Truth known makes free, form is not function.

-----------------

Historicity, I think they call,
mental time travel when you experience
life in a world lit only by fire.

Wonder if, then we think of praying men,
professional preachers of the impending

rapture, which belies all we know of gravity.
Miraculous, no less than the flying white horse,

or the horde of righteous dead coming on, behind.

And even then, there is resistant hate of brothers,
essential to trouble the minds of the greedy rich
and powerful, who constituted this world order,

this very one we live under, or within, in spirit
and in the truth the internet lets prove reproof.

----------------

Enough. We fact check, team spirit.
What can we honestly say we all know?

Six thousand years of written retellings
and retellings, and savage adversarial
herds of prophecy guided god-minded
meek as Moses Phineas knew, true
a certain variety
of the species,
with no regard
for breeding, gravitates to rhetoric
in tune with the pain perceived as needing
rebellion arrousing need --
engage disbelief, let it flow,
out the left ear is fine,
feel
relief, mindlessness
of this hard problem,
what are we about
to do, these days as we pray
with science included in grace,
due to the odds demanding,
a definite bias on Earth, to living,
like grace cheats death into agging
us into freeform ideas for hearts
to conceive as worthy
of cognosis fervency,
as at Eureka instants in prayer.

Truth, none may gainsay truth,
any may and certainly do, lie about what
Truth is behind a universal direct object, set

in the form a free spirit may hold,

not any form smoke cannot pass through,
but the form believers
accept as ours after,
spirit wise, as living words,
death, or out of body reproof
of imagination, a weform, a we,
the shock alone, makes a body think,
woe, this ain't hell but that really hurt,
bang. Same, no worse, and one last time,

I respond , "the Oxycontin is not working",
and time expands, and expands again,
and interest in worth of reason,

appears to judge my plea.
Believe me, death is not scarey, after
finishing a mortal experience in such
a time as this,

freedom from fear of death, is so freeing.
Coherence in mindtimespace is coincidental.
Insider explanation, 11-10-02023, I flat lined thrice in a medivac Bell,
it seems to have been a rebirth not possible fifty years ago, and a joy of being alive is more expressible as a corrective to all I am bound to know and defend from mental tyrannies, as many have cadres enlisted against peace.
Mateuš Conrad May 2018
ever wonder why a cat
    pretends to not be able
to see into / past glass?
      and to think:
    narcissus didn't peer
into a mirror
   but a water-glass...
        <sigh>
              the vagueness
and the ever fleeting
tyrany of youth...
relieved of its passing
within the confines
of democracy...
        hardly a caesar's
           upturned thumb,
scenario;
vector, door,
    while murk of
unfathomable forms
standing behind
a crystaline
       sheen of
            molten sand
reformed into:
            metaphor;
metaphor,
which was always
the philosophers'
stone, precursor...
and remains,
the vain-attempt
    pre-cursor of
          lost ambitions;
sometimes the most idiotic
drives in
pursuit of,
    reveal...
the most worthwhile
discards
   of appropriating,
the next, idiotic,
continuum;
    there must be something
modern, synonymous
with alchemy...
      surely, for rhyme's sake:
a century of
the current technology...
because...
    it can hardly be
improved, let alone
be accommodated,
    the 2nd literate already
know the joke,
    in .jpeg
                     or rather:
.gif
Butterflies fell silent to the ground ,
to a backdrop of fire and billowing smoke all around ,
to each one a widow mourns ,
to each one a new day dawns .


For on this day we started to plan ,
to count the cost ,
to laugh and dance again .
Not to look into deaths face and wonder why ?
O tyrant that stalked our foreign shores ,
that goose stepped through once peaceful lands ,
we put up arms against thee did we stand .

The tyrany from which we were saved ,
yet we still remember those who found nothing but a grave ,
and for those who were forced to dig their own ,
a memorial stone .

And those brave fighters above the skies who risked their lives ,
to what cost ?
Our freedom and liberty .

For every widow and every child ,
for every life destroyed ,
for every Jew who died ,
for every sacrifice .

For every Nobel cause ,
for every song birds song ,
for the day light ,
and blue skies ,
and church bells rung .
and every bunting and ballon strung .
This glorious day was won ,
In fields of butterflies.

— The End —