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Mateuš Conrad Jan 2017
now i'm breathing cigarette smoke
into fog....
it's local and it's bypassing
the global narrative...
i'm sitting perched on
a windowsill
debating whether
d.n.a. predates the other curses:
i love music more
than women,
i'll say it again: i came to love
music more than the Tehran's worth
of women, the music over-powered them,
i wash shaking at the knees
of ac / dc, and i asked for d.n.a.
inclusion... because i was
bothered to read it as otherwise...
and i know there's a woman out there for
me.... and i known there's
  a lesser comic book hero to guide
the matter into a mortgage...
but i know where they gas the liberals,
i know know where Switzerland is...
   i'm bound to a boredom already
hijacked...
      ai'd gas a few liberals had i been given
a chance, like my gradfather likes to
recount: herr! bite bonbon!
         i don't mind writing about extinction
i'm quiete dodo about it,
       if the music plays, the women can shut up.
i heard my grandfather whisper into
me a chinese whisper about ensuring
your heart remained small...
             behalten herz, klein herz...
           herz uber alles.
i don't mind being an extinct specimen
akin to the dodo,
        that might sound insane around here,
but i am vague about the argument
to pro the alternative....
given the culture i find no worth to scatter
the proof...
      music overcame my want for women...
and i what comes next is a stamping,
i just want to fear the end of gravity
but instead i'll probably hear a harnass flinging
Amazonian bridge between compensator and
instigator... and i hope
   i'm wrong...
                              all this dyslexia
and anti-Rousseau sentiment... had i not read Voltaire...
but i have no one to cite...
              apart from them, so it really does seem
like all other clubs: slightly selective...
                       after a while not getting any
makes your forget that dating sites exist,
    you start to learn the proper narration of the world:
so close: yet so far away...
                           i can't state the last bet i made on
the roulette of passion, i decided to feel nothing
concerning it...
                    it got a bit worth a right of a bollocking...
all i needed was a club, and a barbwire wrapped
around a club for a signature, to turn
the debate with the right ink...
                i said n'ah, i prefer music more than
a woman's nagging... women married always
tend to make other males more useful than their own
partners...if there's a love: it will tear us apart...
otherwise we'll congregate with the accomplishment
of jealousy...
                 and if we feed the little heart:
there's no great love to be had...
                                    i can't expect this to sound
as a guiding principle, as Athos said:
  the best advice: is to give no advice at all...
                      i just love watching what
darwinism did away with the historical narrative,
we'll all be dead within the next year...
                            we're all counter to what could be
taken as worth keeping...
            i mean... we already said that fame was pointless
given there was no competition left to
usurp us... having congested the edges of the world,
becoming prime in Siberia... and lavished
in Arabia...
                      but i know that this is really
an anglophone reality, talk this talk in germany
or france and the reaction is different...
                   the more i realise that i do speak english,
the more i wish to not speak it it...
i get tired of it...
                   i sorta lose the plot, wishing that
there actually was a plot to care about...
                                          i can't see the plot,
i can't see the plot because there isn't one to begin with...
   it's architecture kept by invoking a care for
superglue... i can't see it as migrational,
   i can't see it as eastern european economic migration
or the african stampede, or the eternal-judeo
   dispersion...
            if the western people are bewildered by their culture,
then i'm doubly bewildered by the export of all
body-works to china, leaving earopean man with
menial, but rather mental works...
                  and i'm drinking, so that's a +,
but i just can't see the end as related to d.n.a.
being upkept... i can't see that narrative...
                          my concept of eternity can't really
transgress your lack of it...
                        it's get boring after a while talking
with atheists... i'd prefer talking with ahumanists...
        i'd love to pair an atheist with an
ahumanist... because i don't actually see a lot of
human in what's god's own...
                    a- (indefinite article), meaning without
god, or the kaleidoscope finger to the eye
suits the noun right... thetheism is also a very
ugly noun that could exist.... before god has no
parameters, i'd prefer to look at the words that can exist
but don't, given our care for lubricants...
     the- (definite article), meaning with god....
    well the alternatives are islam... christianity...
or the argument by populist secular commuters:
we actually do believe in the same god...
question is: what's there to question in your spare time?
        after that it becomes a hellish enterprise...
  or a dictatorial reality... or the democratic basis for:
i don't eat with you, i won't sleep with you,
and i'll certainly not turn the central heating for you.
   the least thing accessible for me, is to
watch television with you,
                 because that's how it works.
given we've moved into a.i. and robotics,
i'd like us to play god, beyond definition, by simply
not being there... just so we can perfect creating the robot...
so atheism must come with ahomo...
                          best prescribed via ****...
   or the *****...
                         well, if we are to forsake the existance
of god, and fully embrace creating the robot,
we shouldn't technically be here...
                                which makes Heidegger's
dasein really useful... given that popular culture
made fun of germans as not really human but
merely robotic, until the human peeped through
the veil of Auschwitz and everyone was like:
um... revision? just like they thought the Jews
were stupid clinging to the tetragrammaton...
  they did... in the past 2000 years of "judeo-christian"
interaction, you'de get more crucifixes than
talks about the tetragrammaton...
                well, if we're serious about building
the ******* robot, why not do away with god
but also humanity? i don't see the point of disposing one
and keeping the other...
           in our ambition to create a.i.
we didn't forsake god, we forsoke ourselves...
    i don't care whether god is dead...
                     given we have youtube
                  stars that act as clogs in the advert machinery
i find no care to find a deus mort, or a **** viv!
i find, no concern, in finding a dead god,
  or a man, alive... non deus mort, vel **** viv!
  counter:
    numne deus mort: **** est non viv,
             **** contra viv... contra deus...
                 strange to think,
a non-existent thing: to be so obstructive,
and later construct one's life around him
being so beneficial, as to make a life from
orating atheism... a tad bit funny...
        how can i perfect this vulgate?!
numne deus mort, **** emortus...
                evidently, given our preoccupation
with robotics and a.i., the death of god
came with the baggage of becoming gods
and asking to spark a secondary case of the Edenic
charring...
               again the Latin... it's a fetish, my apologies...
deus mort (god dead, est, yeah), or
                        **** viv (man, life bound) -
   it appears the two aren't as explicit as it would appear...
it seems there's a natural basis for a god,
whether satan's clause does actually involve
being paid in toy-structures and cleaning the conscience...
          and i do speak worse Latin than
most English people speak modern English...
luck of the draw... the long straw.... i win a tumble dryer...
you win a voltswagen beetle engine...
   we both end up hearing a midnight song of
mechanical burps and fake stomach maracas...
       i just thought i'd say:
either god is dead, and man has died with him,
or god is really dead, and man fakes living a
posthumous life, encouraged to create a robot...
which he has done, alternative to prayer,
  creating something a god might occupy himself
with then man has abandoned god...
                    i sometimes think:
of all the anglophone writers, i use the word
god as shamelessly as most anglophone writers
use pronouns... i use the word shamelessly...
  because most anglophone writers use pronouns
so freely... i know this doesn't give the fat
of the argument... but i use it freely...
       i'm starting to wonder wether
            god is dead gave us anything more than
people paying for a grave before they get
shovelled into it...
                  as it stands: quiet the opposite...
long before the epitaphs or the dates are
              enshrined, they have already bought
the parody of owning a home...
they are already waiting for the marble space
beneath the maple trees...
                 which is why i ask by restating
the end of metaphysics, if gott ist mort,
            what mann ist viv?
     last time i checked, i found more human warmth
of my own voice asking a refrigerator about
the weather, than my neighbour about
    last Sunday. i'd sooner punch my neighbour
dead than ask him about his feelings.
6ft1, 115kg... i guess i could put a sock in
the right case of gob.
JJ Hutton Jul 2014
The troubadour planted his last name between
a she-vegan's legs in San Marcos;
rambled north to that country of love, Oklahoma City,
where he took hits of windowsill acid every three hours
for a week straight.

To escape, to begin.

He spent his nights in the St. Cloud Hotel, trying to
sleep on a carpeted floor. He saw a color between
lavender and orange, nameless and impossible to
recreate. He knew all, including he'd forget all.
He shared a room with two high fashion,
burgundy-lipped lesbians, Viv and Jean, and
one night, the last night the troubadour, our troubadour,
was allowed to stay, Jean went out for some fresh air,
code for a cigarette.

"She never smokes just one," Viv said, little Oprahs reflected in her eyes from the plasma screen. She lay on her stomach on the bed,
atop a jungle green comforter. For your discretion and for the discretion of those before you.

Viv brought him between her legs.

"Gentle. Gentle," she said.

The troubadour thought of those Pepsi Challenge commercials as he tongued her ****. A lesbian has an edge when it comes to oral pleasure. Across the nation more people prefer Pepsi. She's got the same parts, sure, but as the troubadour wordlessly recited the alphabet with his tongue to her, he felt confident Jean hadn't put in this kind of effort, not lately anyways. And so what if he's Coke? The troubadour preferred Coke. Viv snagged a handful of his hair, "Don't stop," she said. "Don't stop."

And it all ended, as drug-addled, hetero-on-**** escapades always do: abruptly and with an "I think you should leave before she comes back," a "But sweetheart, this, us, I think this means something," an "I like girls," a "But," an "I just needed an edge," and later that night as he marveled at the  brilliance of the common streetlight, tripping his *** off on his last hit of LSD, he empathized.
John F McCullagh Nov 2014
She was the heartbeat of desire,
while I was a dry upper crust of a writer.
She was the Flamingo, fluid with grace.
I was just a stiff member with a bank teller’s face.
I lay with the lady as a matter of course
We woke up the next morning with all innocence lost.
I married Viv then and in London remained
where J. Alfred Prufrock cemented my fame.
It was between the two wars, when poets still mattered
Though the world of our birth was bruised beaten and tattered.
Viv had many needs that I couldn’t fulfill
Her one infidelity rankles me still.
The silence between us grew as loud as the Bourse.
Though our pairing proved barren, we never divorced.
My footsteps were haunted by this girl with my name.
I resolved we should part. My friends thought her insane.
Maurice, her brother, signed to have her committed.
I saw her just once, a perfunctory visit.
She was young when she died, just turned Fifty Eight.
My fate would be different, I had longer to wait.
Of the man that I might have been, little remained
She made me a poet, my dry soul she claimed
x The story of T.S.Elliot and his first wife, Vivienne Haight-Wood. She died aged 58 years in an asylum of a heart attack or a drug overdose. In any event the marriage was apparently an unhappy one
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2016
some would call it a profanity - from the islands of northern Europe i liked the Scots the most, in my first year at Edinburgh Scottish weather played a joke, i don't remember a single gloomy day - i do remember not sleeping one night, and trekking up Arthur's Seat to watch the sunrise, then climbing down, buying Kellogg's cornflakes and full-fat milk and eating them - that magic moment just between daytime fully sets in - it's so fresh, a reality proof, just before the mundane job applicants get up, you get a sense of what's truly taken for granted in society - it only lasts for a few minutes - before the commuters' nagging sets in, and everything fresh (awaiting the new dawn) becomes custard thick - sticky, sickly honey glue pungent... anyway... i'm making a grand profanity at the moment: tier 1 - whiskey and ice, tier oblivion - whiskey and coca cola... but what i'm drinking is like a virus immune to antibiotics, no amount of citrus barley caramel can mask the smoked salmon with a tinge of variously fruity accents can mask it... Glen Moray, single malt, an Elgin Classic - it is a profanity, i agree - i should drink whiskey like mulled wine - but i'm in a hurry for a mindset, and i'm not bothered that much about passing down aesthetics - my palette says otherwise. yeah, my love for Scotland came from climbing up a ladder in the English hierarchy at school - everyone wanted to be taught by Mr. Thomas Boonce - aged 15 went into B1 (or however they noted the selection process) - aged 16 on top of my game, A1 class - a blazing comet trail of ambition, shared the same desk with my enemy shoulder-to-shoulder, the one who promised me a south american plant would give me grand hallucinations, ****** the mother of my ******* son and wa-lah! elephant trunk pulled from a top hat playing jazz - that Jesus bit about loving your enemies? esp. if they're your childhood friends and are **** crazy? you don't love them, your heart turns to stone and it says skipping on lake: what a shame... so much potential in him wasted on jealousy, the way he trusted a woman that is now on some sort of psychiatric medication... i can't love enemies, what i can do is feel sorry for a waste of human potential... (knock on chest)... yep, this ol' ticker is solid stone... and sooner or later it will be added to a mountain i'm constructing in my mind.

thank god for rabbinical literature -
i could pour days over these pages - i literally open a book,
a compilation of entries -
why hasn't anyone noticed the genius of written Hebraic?
i know in the middle east is a wasp nest of harking and
memorable achoo - or quasi (~, literary denotation,
thereabouts, so so, kinda, well, approximate too,
hand gesture in that symbol, good-in-bad-bad-in-good) -
just now i was admiring the fact that Hebraic hides vowels -
truly, they hide them, ingenious buggers -
all the vowels in Hebraic are hidden -
in translation to Latin the Hebrews treat vowels
like post-Latin users of the original S.P.Q.R. alphabet
use diacritical marks - and newspaper Hebraic doesn't
include them in print, only: i suppose in poetry and
rabbinical writings are they exposed -
which stems largely from what is cordoned off -
or rather the fruits of the work of encapsulation -
Latin is slightly biased, no letter is truly encapsulated,
shut-off from another - aye, be, cee, dee, ee, ef, hay'tch (
a distinction), em, en, ***... zed (an exception), ex, you
get the idea - there are no nouns in the post-Latin
alphabet as such - which is why in science Greek letters
were used as constants - these consonant constants
encapsulated not only the phonetic content of a symbol,
but also allowed for an encapsulation of some higher
purpose - e.g. α (angular acceleration) -
β (sound intensity) - γ (gamma rays) - δ (heat in chemistry,
the perfect error, the Laplace operator, etc.) -
ε (set theory, the limit ordinal of the sequence -
    html disapproval to be written as: ω (tier squared ω,
    and one above the squared tier ω, ω root ω double root ω -
    variant alias of this? Hebraic notation of u .
                                                               ­                   .
                                                               ­                      .
     *shurek
) - Θ (Debye notation) - θ (potential temp. in
thermal dynamics) - ι (orbital inclination in celestial mechanics) -
κ (curvature) - Λ (lattice) - λ (decay constant in radioactivity) -
μ (micron, SI prefix, one millionth) - ν (a neutrino) -
ξ (a random variable) - π (too obvious, πr squared) -
ρ (correlation coefficient in statistics) - Σ (summation operator) -
σ (area density) - τ (torque) - φ (the golden ratio, 1.618...) -
ψ (the cat in a box, wave function, quantum mechanics) -
ω (the infinite ordinal);
                                         it's precisely because the Greeks to
encapsulate their phonetic symbols that so much stability
was brought up - look how poverty stricken the Latin variations
are - these are not merely letters, they are actually nouns!
you can recite the whole Greek alphabet a bit like going
to a party and being introduced to people: Jim, Charlie,
George, Rosemarie... obviously there are exceptions for
this observation to be bullet-proof (i.e. μ, ν, ξ, π etc.)
but did the scientists mind not using them? no! they kept to
this interpretation that symbols of sound need to be encapsulated -
held together, stable, each symbol needs to be a balancing act -
an ~equal amount of consonants and vowels need to be
invoked when writing either a or α, b or β, g or γ -
there needs to be an invocation of names to these symbols -
not mere ah be c e ef gee... English for its laziness in omitting
diacritical marks did the unspeakable when digital paper came
about - it turned itself into a quasi encryption tongue,
acronym fuelled and in all honestly - self-conscious of its faults
yet basking in them! but the real genius in encoding signs truly
belongs to the Hebraic school...

you find them so coerced by naked pictures,
that their outer resembles no inner -
you find them bound to an idea that the inner can
somehow compensate - but it can't -
the outer as the inner reveals nothing,
no love, merely a **** - the winged-Hussars die
in Ukrainian fertile land, and with the music,
you can only think of the drudgery of walking
through knee-high mud - you can just picture
the Cossack moustaches wedged behind the ears
like earrings - i too would have eaten my tongue that way
had it been permitted - without permission
i spoke of a stake tartar and my tongue into one -
then the mantra came - kametz, tzeré, chirek, kametz,
tzeré, kametz, kametz, tzeré, tzeré, cholem, kametz, kametz
,
- i will not be treated like some dumb farmer!
      your Yurt empire is fledgling into the sunset!
  and my heart is enshrined into a bitter toil! it will love
as it pleases! not with you saying what there's to love!
tzeré, shurek, kametz, kametz, tzeré, kametz, cholem, tzeré,
chirek, kametz
. what a mantra!
a, e, i, a, e, a, a, e, e, o, a, a, e, u, a, a, e, a, o, e, i, a -
patterns strangre than in a poetic rhyming scheme -
respective incisions into still-life motives of movement -
i.e. if a vowel be my hand, a consonant be a chair i sit on:
kametz of aleph (א), tzeré of bet (ב), chirek of gimel (ג),
kametz of dalet (ד), tzeré of heh (ה), kametz of vav (ו).
kametz of zayin (ז), tzeré of chet (ח), tzeré of tet (ט),
cholem of yod (י), kametz of kaf (ק), kametz of lamed (ל),
tzeré of mem (מ), shurek of nun (נ), kametz of samekh (ס),
kametz of ayin (ע), tzeré of peh (פ), kametz of tzadi (צ),
cholem of kof (ק), tzeré of resh (ר), chirek of shin (ש)... and
finaly the kametz of tav (ת)* - we really like our matchstick
men, don't we? in terms of ancients tongues,
we like our curvatures in modern tongues of Greek
and Latin, don't we?
instilled the names of vowels! kametz (a
                                                 tzeré (e
            chirek (i
                                          cholem (o
                 shurek (u
                                                           pentagon thus far,
    revealed vowels with diacritic interpretation
           kametz, as soured: חָ - tau, vowel as diacritical mark
elsewhere -
                       tzeré - or umlaut below the letter - alternatively:
           וָ qàmetz                   וֵ tzeré
וִ ḥìreq                              וֹ ḥólem                   וּ shùreq
     (c, k, q - make it quick, à, 1st),
                (é - prolong it, to catch a breath, or the first
                      tetragrammaton H),
that's the genius of the encoding though... the omission of
vowels, or vowels as diacritical marks - one shurek (u .
                                                               ­                                   .
                            ­                                                                 ­        .)
among 10 kametz and 7 tzeré - gematria at its purest -
one shurek, 2 chireks and 2 cholems -
a form of encoding deviating from obscure onomatopoeia
and the void and meaninglessness, toward
a sound ushering a word for word, and actions parallel -
but this encapsulation of breath taken and
breath released, as in writing, the speaker does not
suddenly breathe again - but is kept within limit,
a consonant starting point, the zenith of breath or soul
and a return to one body, v A v (e.g.).
but imagines being able to avoid noun insertions -
then Hebrew is very much as modern English -
when modern English ought to utilise diacritical marks
on either vowel or consonant, it does not -
it doesn't have a single sound encoding worthy of a name -
there's no omega, there is only oh -
Hebrews treat their vowels as diacritical marks -
their language is one massive crossword -
how do they even read HBRC? who the hell taught them
when to insert the vowels from following the roots
as stated HBRC toward the tree that's HEBRAIC?
this is ******* bewildering - i don't know how they do it!
what's agonising is their notion that patterns in letters
having numerical values is somehow meaningful,
as if something horrid can be averted - to me 1 + 1 = 2
is enough - i don't need alef / αλεφ / αλεθ (א) + bet / βετ (ב) =
anything but gimel / γιμελ (ג) -
this is the ****-pile of having so many prophets in your society
and not enough philosophers - the Casandra Standard -
Greeks had the philosophers, the Hebrews had their
prophets, both in excess - in the end the cult of prophecy
in Hebraic society turned into a Casandra Standard
borrowed from Greek myth - while Greek philosophers...
i don't actually know what happened to them -
i think most of them became dentists after Aristotle suggested
women had fewer teeth than men.
martin May 2016
Viv
She's our woman who does
so she is
here once a week
her name is Viv
she sweeps the floor
washes the tiles
arranges the papers in neat little piles
flicks a duster across a few things
breaks a saucer
and gently places it into the bin
Lilith Avenue Nov 2013
i am so hopeful
yest so unhopeful
all at the same time

it's like that light
that you see
that tells you everything
will be okay
is like the sun on
a cloudy day;
it fades in an out
dimming and brightening

like a lightbulb
hanging on a thread -
hanging on to life

like a car
racing down
the free way
at two in the morning
the moments of darkness
after the faint moment
of brightness
as we drive under
street lamps.

i am so hopeful
and so hopeless
and i sway
like a pendulum
unable to find
a healthy balance
MuseumofMax Dec 2021
The watcher, the fast learner
I’m the hook and she’s the eye
Keeping each other grounded
When we feel like sinking

She’s a pretty cool guy
She wanted me to add that she’s ‘fly’
Hanging with her is like a high
But It doesn’t go away

She’s German too
She taught me a bit

Du bist ein Arsch

Hope you let that one pass..
my German is pretty trash.
A letter to my wonderful friend and roommate
Vivian Mar 2014
you've always been
"rough around the edges,"
seeing lines in coloring books as
suggestions and
scribbling wherever you **** pleased
(your handiwork adorns
countless bibles in two churches,
innumerable physics worksheets,
and the walls of
one bathroom stall in your high school,
which has probably been
repainted
by now)
I'm sorry I couldn't smooth your edges,
but I'm glad I did not.
trf Dec 2016
Vivienne wriggled restless draped in a veil of veneer,
She could never pass the stage of sleep same as her street number three.
“Our cycles are synchronized”, so the moon she did fear.

Their marriage froze frigid until deliquescing at month three,
Her lunacy at low tide leaked on her ****** red bed sheet,
Like the snow that would thaw, end of winter in ’33.

As a muse Viv was perfect, but the man suffered defeat,
With her parent’s heirs to riches, resentment followed suit.

Could it have been Dr. Huntington she inherited? Viv was swiftly swept off her feet.

The white walls met her head like a drum beating mute,
As in the fourth circle, Pluto, dressed in a white coat shocked her brain.

Across town Tom was receiving an award, celebrating with the astute.

“*Viv ruined him as a man, though quite the poet he became”,
For if it weren’t for Vivienne, Tom would have acquired far inferior fame.

_TRF
Sometimes wherever I look I see three or the things that symbolize three. I thought only a Terza rima would be appropriate for TS and Viv.
Mateuš Conrad May 2017
míkołaj̄ ßęp szarźỳńskí?
                                           or given the original orthography?
mikołaj sęp szarzyński?
                  a XVI poet, born in what
                   the greeks would lament having lost it,
the Constantinople of the north... L'viv,
otherwise known as Lwów...
                               well... if Edinburgh can be
the Athens of the north... L'viv can be
                           the Constantinople of the north.
never mind that... i think this poet is worth
more toward establishing the canon
                      of polish literature than mickiewicz,
     or a miłosz...
                               listen... i'm trying to waste
about an hour (and it's nearing 8p.m.)
before i head to the supermarket and
buy a bittle of 1 litre's worth of dark
*** at £15... i need to write something.
            but the orthography i'm proposing
no one is going to adopt, for the basis
of schooling... and as an answer:
what's the nature of reality?
      that old cookie of a metaphysical question?
well... it's certainly language,
                 language is the first exemplum
to be utility prone... as in: we talked.
        mikołaj sęp szarzyński's output, though?
i just have a fascination with
            old-polish... a bit like the shakespearean
thou indicative of you...
thankfully i own a book that cites XVI polish...
    but beside that, that on the side,
here's one example of the poet's work

          o bene sperandi exemplum lapsis et amore
          ardente in dominum femina clara deum,
       nostri non ignota mali. succur(r)e, precamur,
    nam nos (heu miseros!) tot mala dura premunt.
      sancta fides precibusque tuis fiducia nobis
           et validus culpas solvere crescat amor
.

this is the verse, as an ode to mary magdalene -
and it reads in translation as:

   on the example of trust for those downfallen,
famous woman with a firery love for your lord god,
well versed in human politeness. we implore,
come to us with aid, because, we, the meek,
are crushed by so many heavy catastrophes!
may it be, that with us imploring thus,
                                             a holy faith abounds,
trustworthiness and love, able to destroy the changes
                   under the command of the winds of times.

which just proves that you cannot elaborate on the latin,
even if it's 16th century latin... you have to invoke
a modern twist to the verse...
            otherwise you're working on a translation
that's a bit like: modern day japanese:
       em em       ar  ar             ***   chou chew.

i'm actually not even going to bother writing out
a 16th century polish dictionary for the moment...
translating the latin took out all the strength i was
believing to have composed, prior to the translation...

   obviously i'll write a post scriptum...
               but latin is hard to translate into english...
there's too much shrapnel to deal with...
   all these ****** conjunctions, definite articles indefinite articles...
it would sometimes be easier to gobble down a bowl
of noodles, in a chicken soup, from a poached chicken... mmm...
   obviously with the required spices, and boy.... leeks...
         the sort of soup that's see-through, and not
the western:      creamy creamy pie.... moo moo moo...
not all soups are supposed to be creamy...
    some soups are even supposed to be cold...
                                         like a vichyssoise.
Rae Harrison May 2015
Day 1: Blithe
(bl-I-the); happy or joyous
"I'm sorry but I'm rather blithe right now. It was nice to meet you."
Day 7: Convivial
(kon-viv-ve-ul); friendly, lively, or enjoyable
"The room spikes from dull to absolutely convivial just from your precence, darling."
Day 15: Pulchritudinous
(puhl-kri-tood-n-uhs); extreme physical beauty
"You look absolutely pulchritudinous tonight."
Day 16: Love
(luhv); an intense feeling of deep affection
"I love you."
Day 30: Veridical
(vuh-rid-i-kuhl); truthful; veracious
"This isn't how it used to be, if i'm being completely veridical"
Day 45: Simulacrum
(sim-yuh-ley-crum); a slight, unreal, or superficial likeness
"You were just a simulacrum for real love!"
Day 49: Lugubrious
(luh-goo-bre-us); full of sorrow or sadness
"Will the lugubrious feelings ever stop?"
Day 50: goodbye
(good-bi); used to express good wishes when parting
"Goodbye..."
Mateuš Conrad May 2020
it's...
listening to metric - clone (2012)...
sipping a whiskey...
pretending to smoke a cigarette
with an unlit cigarette in hand...
the feel and the texture...
the scent of unlit tobacco,...

and then it's... contemplating...
british and "british"...
              and the caves... and... speaking
a language lacerated...
loan words...
   music of corvus corax... katrinka...
i would never...
listening to such music...
attire myself as: bwitish...
technicalities...
              the prefix will do...
                 anglo-slav...
                         like... those anglo-saxons...
but less specific...
because: you'd have to also call them:
   anglo-pseudo-germans...
          or quasi...
                        i'm not being
specific either... an anglo-slav i am...
a patchwork of guesses...
         serb? croat? slovenian?
       the yugoslav? ukranian?
           russian? czech? slovak?
                    i've just been listening to
some videos of nostalgia...
from the natives circa 1978 and...
nik nak paddy... old man... something...

to associated with the british...
to be british...
  do you suppose... there's a turk these days...
that would associate himself
as... an ottoman?
         i wonder...
         maybe the concept of empire being...
domino... connected by land...
and not scattered like the greek diaspora /
empire...

           the empire of roman?
weird... isn't it? to be surrounding a massive
salt pond...
            while the constant chance of having
your back turned...
seemingly protecting this salt pond...
yes... sea...

- i found the stare of love at first today:
but i was numb to it...
deer eyes of an indian girl -
darkened / riddled by the equator...
while i was... picking three kings of chillies...
some fresh coriander...
cumin powder... kashmiri powder...
and black cumin seeds...

    - i saw eyes and i also saw two
nuggets of charcaol...
   my knees left nothing of the sort of iritation
fo drop everything and swim
against the current like a salmon...

- come mid-thirties and...
   i'm starting to feel comfortable...
with the solo-project... the dodo-project...
looking for signs of: waking up
to what could have been an abortion...
or a genocide into a tissue, flushed down
the toilet: the horror of being circumcised...
without jewish or muslim...
social structures...
         it could be much worse... i could have
been circumcised...
i could have been born with
both a ****** and a strap-on *****:
seeking the ****** st. of tic-tac-toe and
a skipping rope of:
  that i have kissed a man...
that i have gorged on a *******'s
****** like a wrath and love of god...
that suckling to the **** didn't
pose a problem: got choc tinged teeth
and bitter-corn in between...
oh i'm pretty sure she wasn't in love
with me:
             a wry smile while i didn't
speak the "proper" native...

mongrel soul retaining a weird question
about who's who and who's a token
postcard on loan from...
lost from former forged empires...

on my way back home...
   i was... once upon a time...
that sort of guy... loitering... waiting...
making waiting... a ritual...
worth smoking a cigarette...
patience is a religion that's not invested
in peace to all: for all...
     first comes first...

nearing the magic number 35...
it's very sensible of me to state:
it's quiet impossible for me to share a bed...
with anything or anyone except
my shadow...
considering how when i expose
my shadow to sunlight...
mindless shadow pretends to have
eyes... when it crawls into my head
at night: when i sleep...
and tells the alternative story of
the day...

    to be wedded and with children...
one would most certainly need to be coupled
with prospects in one's early 20s...
after the mid-20s... well...
the boat's about to sail...
the solo- / dodo-project is...
  a bit like... with writing being concerned...
one's hope for a career in...
    a chemistry lab...
or the selfless-acts of hippocrates' students...

all very well to love children...
but... ******* them up...
never really becoming that...
nobel prize winning psychologists
with a break-through...
when the whittle cherbus... gremlins...
kritters arrive...
an over-zealous cat meowing / moaning
about curfew is one of those spin-offs
of madness...
talk to me about a babe crying...

- and yes... some people shouldn't drink...
their genetic disposition: ah ah...
their individual metabolism...
they never conjure up the amphetamine
(metaphor) ***** from the lullaby
zombied-out death-cult of sedation...
- and these same people shouldn't pick
up smoking a ritual tobacco stick...
even i venture to call it:
a bullet to the head...

  how is it... to become... selfless?
when... one... has become...
self-realized... past the groan of:
the facts... aged 25 and your brain
should stop... window-shopping
function suffixes... no?

i had an idea for a glove...
with a rubber-band...
to... restrict... the natural laziness
of the hand when walking...
but because i drink and only jargon
poor poetics...
in rage i ripped the rubberband
off my arm... lost to history:
lost to the void...
oh i know how that it feels...
would it have been of use...
i guess not...
     a bright idea in a bucket
of maggots and maggot ****...
is... about as much worth as...
a screwdriver is to a forest of nails...
chisel... n'est ce pas...
i was... asking: grit teeth...
soul... clenching... bizarre objects
of gradations of sharpening...
the obvious square-headed axe...
pulp...
      a whole rainbow of objects...
perhaps a scalpel is the last resort...

i smile because: i've turned angry into
funny...
who doesn't have the monopoly on violence:
well... i also do not have the monopoly
on c.c.t.v. -
   little help from coming from
under the iron curtain...
the local seem to be... all ah...
oh so detached... missing las vegas cousins
and...
if i could only allow you...
to allow myself... to fathom...
the maldives of my mind...
a drag of a cigarette... a bottle of whiskey
35cl... you start the bets...
who's about to...
      find prison in solipsism...
solipsism as a mental illness...
as an altruism: as a atheism as a...
genius maddy: spezial neds: youz callz
'em... quivering folk?
what'z that phra-phra-puccino?
    autist-spec:   ah yes! those rare breeds!
spazz-taculars!
i was one misunderstood for one of them...
i took the insult to the grave...
well... i took it to her grave...
by the god of the hebrews and by the mythology
of cain... from siberia came the huns...
the turks... the slavs and the mongols...
only germans ever came from
       afri-*******-ah-hahaha!
they skipped the toll of sanskrit:
the birth of writing...
why? it became complicated...
when beijing was founded...
but sure... a replica tux of skeleton came out
out... fringe kenya and landed in: old delhi...
as many consonants if not more:
down to the core: with the spices...
the unfortunate indians of north
america...
the somewhat fortunate indians
of: south america...
brazil: post-racial mecca...
argentinian beef and...
                             myths of nazis
living to old age...
                 no... oh no... i will not die...
first comes ol' lizzie then comes
my sodden sorry ***...
envelope of a missing postage stamp
of a world: we've been to the moon...
via new york and the leviathan london...
where's afghanistan cave fighting...
the pashtun women of... glorifying
copper and cinnamon / cumin and coriander
ash... and beauty...
how doesn't it sound:
the day the music died:
we sang dirges in the dark...
                 bye bye: may-pole luck with
christ: the advent of...
the crucifix is hanging... ornament piece...
but the... iron maiden isn't...
           it's enough to identify a god...
it's quiet another matter...
to torture him... and... sorry...
but if i were to be crucified...
   sooner me and the comfort of hands...
outstretched... than... hands-tied...
pushed onto a pole: to impale...
lost advent of etymology: slav...
and the lost "e" of paul...
to remind... the crucifix... well...
            to impale...
                       looks like...
the crucifix is missing limbs... it would take...
days... the arms that would be
flapping... agitating an imitation
of a swan breaking into flight...
the two lungs... imitating drowning...
while hanging... extended...
     to crucify... hardly: the affair of...
being... impaled...
perhaps joking: slav(e) gave the clue...
germans: whether orthodox
anglo-ßaß - celtic mingling...
    germs... who's eating what... "leftover"
etymological clues...
we can play this game... forever...
it's hardly the hebrew the original:
indu- prefix of... roaming... or not...
                      
guise them up as the exodus as the fomer
lands of Jagiełło...
the battle of Hastings: blip...
             who am i... but at least in england...
i can speak the language
like some conrad of masovia:
readied to sell the "lesser creatures"
for the... encouraged...
integration to the *****: kneel...
of the baltic pruß...
who weren't... coddled...
the welsh weren't coddled...
they were "told" to... brighten their
day to day... expand...
fathom the easily accessed seas:
expand...
who owned the monopoly of
the baltic sea: as if it were
the bosphorus...
beside... the danes?
expansion of: ****** come together
with a ******: breathing
h. p. lovecraftian h'america...
loot maine and call it... start:
bittersweet apartheid...
not me: i'm still half of Vilno...
and the most remote aspect of L'viv...
no... crusader songs... no crusades: per se!

i used to play video games...
i became... more fascinated
with the romance of: a lost year...
that the school re(a)d... it wasn't in any
fathom of an iota of red:
or a synonym in burgundy:
for the worth of the burgundians:
leftovers of the angevins...
that richard the lionheart
found a love for england...
the island... an abhorring testimony
of youth and no solance...
that old age never found him:
akin to: the needle never found
the mystery of the haystack...

i am not! lithuanian!
common practice of exodus polacks...
paul-lacking:
slav and "e" dribbling...
      like the germanic peoples:
who aren't lingua franca revisions...

    ⰏⰑⰣ     ⰔⰑⰂⰑ...

lingering "blame"... darwinism via
the default...
the monkey skeleton left africa...
arrived in india.. left a schism...
some went to хины
             some went to:         чeнa..

   anglican via: the great mother siberia...
is a mother...
beside the zenith advent of: mother...
muffer: af-af-rye-c'ah'cah!
******* twins to mind the rhodes!

the skeleton left africa...
yes...
   but... the hindu morphed the genesis...
a second time... into writing...
what... phonetic encoding...
beside... the primodial...
   hieroglyphics... from africa... would have...
ever... arrived at our...
emoji internet advent... door-step of
extending democracy / demographics...
central?

the wheel and the square also
left africa with the skeleton:
the arithmetic of bones and muhammad...
but the triangle settled in greece
and became pythagoras...
and the letter: Δ....

    the inter-racial violence of north
h'america... is not... beside the wery bwitish
advent of ****-stan... as... imaginary
loitering of a border: coming to survive
with Belfast-Kashmir...
           that's making priority of...
the written word...
over the skeleton jump-start...
       bypass...
              and the emoji... and... grafitti...
clue out of africa...
never met... the sub-continent of india...
or... the chinese ideograms...
or sanskrit...
but... ******... *** and bounty...
the mongols never made...
crimea... their capital...
hastings was forever a washington's
survival guide...
       that theatre gave the birth
of lincoln and... whitman was...
everything any other poet: including
homer and dante always dreamed of...
that europeans invited themselves
toward: finding h'america in a can
of sardines...
and that the h'americans believed
they found europe... in kent or essex...
or... in books...
or... in loitering... or being...
allowed to be obnoxiously loud...

            like that **** would still stink:
100 years from now...
but yes... the libido of a genghis khan...
i trace my libido to:
how i imitate the people who
check their blood pressure when i *******...
i... genocide my... fractions into
the moloch couldron that's:
beside... the prayers of a...
        tele-evalngelical church of praises!
h'america is nothing new...
it's just better: regarding...
what remains... a solid old.
JAC Feb 2018
Today
but you

I left
will

a rose
never

for you
see it.
Barker Jun 2018
Our memories take a picture of the time where our heart says,
"This is love"
(c)ibarker
Big Virge Dec 2019
Now It’s CLEAR That I Am ... " GIFTED " ...
When It Comes To Writing Lyrics ... !!!

Articulated Scriptures ...
That Paint Descriptive Pictures ...
of How It Is We’re Living ...

Ism After ... ISM ...
Corruption and Division ...
That’s Bred By Politicians ...

EVEN ON A Day Like THIS ...

December ... 25th ...

I’m STILL Presenting Gifts ...

Through Written Scripts Like THIS ... !!!

That QUICKLY FLIP ...
DIFFERENT Subjects ... !!!

From Politics To Those Whose Gifts ...
Gave Out Some ... SERIOUS LIKS’ ... !!!!!!

Just Like The GREAT ... “ King Viv “ ... !!!

A Cricketer ... SO GIFTED ... !!!
When It Came To Playing Cricket ...
And PROTECTING ... His Wicket ...
That Bowlers RARELY Hit It ... !!!!!!!!

While Others Like ... USAIN ...
Had Gifts That Made Them Train ...
In Ways That Gained ... " Olympic Fame " ... !!!
TOO Many IN FACT ... For This Poem To Name ... !!!

So Let’s Move On ...
To Gifts That Belong ...
In ... OTHER Realms ...

Like ****** Gifts ...
YES ... BIG OL’ Well ...

You Know What It Is ... Or ... Do You ... ?!?

Do You Know What It Is To Be The One Who GIVES ...
MULTIPLE ... ******* Rides ... !!!?!!!

Well I’m ... One of THOSE GUYS ... !!!!!
My Ex and I ... ENJOYED Those Nights ....
Where She Would Be Riding Just Like ...
Those Guys With Gifts To Ride Motorbikes ...

In Ways That THRILLED When She Got FILLED ...
With MUCH MORE Than The ... AVERAGE Man ...
And YES That’s FACT So ... DON’T Doubt That ... !!!!!!!

Such Gifts Are COOL But Now I’m Fuelled ...
To Use My Gifts To ... EXPLAIN Things ...

As I Said At The Start I Now Use My ARM ...
To ARTICULATE Visions of How We’re Now Living ...

So Gifts of THIS TYPE ...
Tend To CHALLENGE The Minds ...
of Those Who Are ...................................................... “ Sly “ ...

Because of The Gift That ... REALITY Brings ... !!!
A Bite That DEFIES The Spreading of LIES ... !!!

But One That Bears Witness ...
To TRUTH And LESS Sinning ... !!!

So ... As I Now End ...
I’m Back To The Beginning ... !!!

I Articulate Scriptures ...
That Paint Descriptive Pictures ...
of How It Is ... " We’re Living " ...

Because It’s ... CLEAR ...
When It Comes To Writing Lyrics ...

That I Am One ... Who’s ...

.......... “ GIFTED “ ..........
Yes I said it !

However, a few others now do too !
So, here's another gift from me to all of you ........
I seen them come and watched them go
and I know
not one of those spoke of Michelangelo,
it was all about the latest date,
the tricks of men and fate
the risky business, foreplay for the
afternoon,
Spotify,
don't come too soon, but never
Michelangelo.

When and what brings me to
this junction of people,
this queue of
lonely,
this hunger monger looks into space and
he looks at himself and his face doesn't fit,
mirror
mirror
on the wall
*******,
****,
but that's childish and so I edit childishly with lipstick from My Auntie V, which was short for Vivian and Viv died back in '74, not sure why I kept her lipstick but I also kept lots more.
(sore points make for scabby wounds)


And if I cough again I'll wet myself,
jeez,
you'd think the body could hold itself intact.
I only lack the know how and I know that now
and I know that no one talks of
Michelangelo,
just Bieber and Dicaprio,
time to go?
I guess it is and somewhat so
touching on
Michelangelo
because no one else does.
The wasteland and
thanks T.S,
I borrowed Michelangelo for the morning.
Big Virge Aug 2021
So Now That I’ve Had The Chance...
To Watch The Show...

... “ THE LAST DANCE “...

It’s INCREDIBLE To Know...
How HARD It Was For... MJ...
To Make His Way In The NBA...

From His College Days...
To His Days of PAIN...
When His Coach Would Say...

“ Come on now MJ,
you’re not fit to play ! “

To See How He’d COMPLAIN...
... CLEARLY Displayed...
How His DESIRE Was GREAT... !!!

To Be A WINNER...
At Basically ANY COST... !!!

And Was Willing To Deliver...
To Be... The BOSS... !!!

And The Greatest To EVER...
Play The Game... !!!!!

To Me He Was BETTER...
Than Kobe Or James... !!!

But Kobe Was CLOSE...
And That Is NO JOKE... !!!

And Like... PELE...
There Was Something In The Way...
He Chose To DISPLAY...
His Talents And Gifts...
Like A Sporting KING... !!!

Just Like KING VIV...
Whose Talent, Drive...
And PURE DISCIPLINE... !!!

Have Now Influenced Me...
And How I Write My Poetry...

It HAS To Be RIGHT...
And Flow SO TIGHT...
That I’ll Spend ALL DAY...
And Sometimes ALL NIGHT... !!!

Until I Find...
... The PERFECT LINE...
To Put In Rhyme... !!!!!!

It’s A Line That’s FINE...
Like MIchael On The Baseline... !!!

About To Drive...
And Simply BLOW BY...
ANY Defensive Guy...
Who Dared To Try...
To Leave Michael Denied... !!!

Now It’s Not Quite The Same...
In The... Poetry Game...
Because A Lot of Lame Brains...
Disrespect Wordplay...

That Is... THE TRUTH... !!!

When It Proves To Influence...
And DESTROY IGNORANCE... !!!

It’s Not Quite As BLATANT...
As A Foul That’s Clearly Flagrant... !!!

You See My Influences Came...
From A Lot of Sporting Names...

But MJ Just... AMAZED... !!!
With How He’d Chew And Gaze...
And Somehow Touch The Sky...
As If His Shoes Could FLY... !!!

So When I Sit And Write...
I... ELEVATE My Mind...
To Keep My Standards HIGH... !!!

And To NEVER EVER Think...
That My Words CAN’T Claim The WIN... !!!

But Just Like Scottie Pippen...
I Know What It Is To Be DISMISSED... !!!
And See Someone BED BOUND...
In Their VERY OWN House... !!!

So Did What Was Right...
Instead of Making Light...
of A DIFFICULT Time...
To Earn A Money Prize... !!!

So I Have Been Influenced...
By Those Who Have Shown Prudence...
Even When I Never Knew It.....

It Was Something In Their Movements...
And How They Kept Improving...
That Kept My Mental Tutored...

In... NEVER Letting Up...
Especially When Things Got...
.... REALLY TOUGH.... !!!

When Dealing With My Mum...
When Sickness Hit And Stunned... !!!

I Would NOT Run...
Like My Father Had Done... !!!

I Had To Stand By Her...
Like A Teammate Does...
Who Helps Them To Conquer...
Like Scottie Did For Jordan... !!!

I’ve Met Sportsman...
Who’ve Made Their Mark...
Like... Jahangir Khan... !!!

And Saw Humbleness...
As Well As GREATNESS...

NOT The Behaviour of An ***...
And Like My Father Always Said...
Have Shown DIGNITY And CLASS...

EVEN IN Times When...
I’ve Been INFLUENCED...
To REACT Like TYSON...
EAR Biting And FIGHTING... !!!

But Have Learned To Be Cool...
In The Face of FOOLS...

From My Days At School...
To Working With Dudes...
And Women... TOO...

Who Thought That They...
Could ***** My Name...
With Their Childish Games...
And ****** Displays...

Which Brings Me Right Back...
To The Man... MJ... !!!

That’s Right Michael Jordan...
The One And Only KING...

... of The NBA...

An INCREDIBLE Mover...
Defender And Shooter... !!!

Who Was NOT PERFECT... !!!
But When He Came Correct...

... He Came CORRECT... !!!!!

Leaving His Opponents...
Either BURIED Or DEAD... !!!

A... MASTER Craftsmen...
And Disciplined Marksmen... !!!

Who Just Like The Men...
I’ve Mentioned in This Poem...

Was CLEARLY A CUT...
ABOVE All The Rest... !!!

A GENIUS And A...
... CHAMPION... !!!!!

Who Has Certainly Fed...
MANY MORE Than Me...
Through His Sporting Feats...

Because He Worked HARD...
To Make His Mark...
And CLEARLY EARNED...
The RESPECT That He DESERVED... !!!

And Has INSPIRED Me...
To Write This Piece of Poetry...
That Speaks A Little Bit...
About... His History...

That TRULY Represents...
What It Takes To Be The BEST... !!!

And To DEFINE The Word...
That Has Influenced...
How I Write My Poems...
And Construct My Verse...

It Demands DISCIPLINE...
And Garners Great Respect...
Cos’ It’s About MUCH MORE...
Than Becoming FAMOUS...

It Requires GREAT STRENGTH... !!!

To... TRULY ACHIEVE...
What It Is That We DEFINE...

As Having This Thing...
That Is Known As...

..... “ GREATNESS “.....
Inspired by the documentary, " The Last Dance ", Michael Jordan, and a few others who've inspired me through their amazing drive, talents and sporting successes !
Samantha Marie Jul 2014
I.
You made me happy
when skies were grey,
when skies were blue,
when skies were purple
and orange and pink
and looked like a promise,
when skies were dark
and were shining with wishes—
You made me happy.

II.
When I couldn't sleep
I replayed the way
you said my name
over and over and over.
It rang in my head
like a police car's siren.

III.
In between being asleep
and awake my mind
would flash back to the night
where in a drunken haze,
time stopped.
Do you remember
the way you looked at me?
Could you tell that I
couldn't breathe?
The air was thick
with everything we weren't
saying and I wonder—do you
remember?
When your mind is
most vulnerable,
do you think of me?

IV.
You smiled at me
like you loved me
and stared at me like
I was a mystery you wanted to spend
your whole life figuring out
and said my name like
it was sacred
and these things should've
made more sense.
These things
should have meant
more.

V.
In one night
we went from
almost something
to absolutely nothing.
In two sentences
you let me
let you go.

You were supposed
to come
back.

VI.
Everything hurts me.
The way you
wouldn't look at me.
The way you
spat words at me,
like every syllable
burned your lips
on the way out of
your mouth.
The way you
let me walk out
the door without
a second glance.

We weren't meant to hurt each other like this.

VII.
I cried for months.
In bed,
on a park bench,
sitting on a patio at night,
perched on the sink of a public restroom,
with my feet floating in a fountain,
over the phone to a voice, hundreds of miles away.

I cried for months.

VIII.
I want you to know,
it mattered to me.
Even if I meant nothing to you,
you mattered.

VIV.
I've never been very good at letting go.
God knows how hard I try.
I'm sorry it is taking me so long.
I'm sorry I can't look at you still
I'm sorry I have to ignore you but
it easier this way.

Some nights I don't sleep because
what if I can't let you go,
what if time goes on
and I meet someone new
and regardless of moons
and suns and other men's mouths,
I still want you?

I told you,
I am not good at letting go.
My mind is not one to allow it.

X.
I could have loved you.

I'm sorry.
Samira Jul 2017
I listened to role models by J. Cole for the hundredth time and I finally heard it. It was a message to our women, No Role Models To Speak Of. He spoke of women who knew he had a girl but encouraged him to act like a dog they cry about. He spoke of "I don't want no ***** from reality shows", he spoke of meaningless *** women has allowed of him and "Kick em to the door, that just how it goes". He made a song and that's all most women of today will hear from No Role Models by J. Cole, another tune. It's not another tune, it's a message. I know because I was one of those women who never heard the message in 2014, today I here it loud in clear some years later. He looks back at his past and No Role Models To Speak Of. It all starts with women and I'm sure he wish women demanded more of what they deserve. Men like complexity, a challenge and as men they deserve that too. He claimed the women didn't even show him worthy of wearing his shirt home. "Lame ****** Cant Tell A Difference, One Time For A ***** Who Knows". He wants an Ant Viv love, he said he was too young for Lisa Bonet, Nia Long... all he's left with is ******* from reality shows who can't even read a script. Can't get mad at him that his only regret is not being able to take Aaliyah home.
Let it be powerful... let it hurt
Simon Soane Aug 2019
Auntie Viv,
vividly
you’ll always be.
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2017
supermarket conversation:
tarah: matt, you feeling o.k.?
matt (me): i've been fasting, low blood sugar level.
tarah: why?
matt (me): i don't know... i could blame it on easter.

what are these addicts      doing here?
am i selling *******, am i selling ******?!
  what are these people doing here?
is my writing as addictive as to attract 20 or more
so people like it might be expecting a *harry potter

                                  instalment?
    is that code for: also dr. seuess?
          is my writing a bit like selling drugs?
dunno... ever heard the kresy accent
from sami swoi (1967)?
      - or that note that greeks have about
the turks having "constantinople"...
   i don't hear a lot of ******* about
               lwów / l'viv: lion: lew (lev).
             i could listen to a greek gay provocator
nagging about this sentiment ringing true
                toward the passing of the next two centuries...
                          but this is an anglophone world
after all... who the **** gives a **** about
           Lviv ever belonging to poland?
                  next time you hear an advert to
become a tourist in cuba... or costa rica...
                 so *******! eat yer bananas!
get yer suntan... and shove your cultural darwinism
where the sun doth shine...
                             and then choke...
       on edgy popcorn where 3 ***** croaked for a
                                                         forlorn sun
to exhibit the morn...
                               such suns are only worth the set,
or known egyptian ugly σεθ...
                          and nothing else...
    but then again: working out and
the cult of the gym is as ugly as any other that
might provide us with arguments against
    the gluttons;
       where's the cue prompt at which i start laughing?
małgorzata kożuchowska, maybe, someday,
but obviously never. what? you were expecting
a daydream involving paris hilton?! eh?!
Mandated this faux gremlin explorer
(alias Cliff Ford) donning reinforced
rubber baby buggy bumpers to dodge
any errant wild jaguar, ram, thunder bird,
bee in blue bonnet hood lamb, et cetera

and/or any cowl screen Fascia hissed
dee fender must be subject to an intense
hot grill, especially if grievous, ferocious,
egregious, deleterious threat to undermine
Democratic pillar, weltanschauung spoiler,

rocker, rims (sic) coarse sea cove dweller,
whose tired hubby capped, (re: proffering
a trim package) houses plenty of junk in
the trunk adorned with harried styled and
tailor made dust ruffle par excellent well

did assembly, who (if not consigned to a
crash test dummy existence), would present
an a door able latchkey cont hinge hint. Fuel
lush con tank cuirass culpable, deplorable,
and execrable fiendish human immigration

injustices (executed abhorrent auto de fe
incognito, nonetheless lock king figurative
gnarled horns with cognoscenti), where
innocent charges teary eyed. Like
a cracked glass, viz shatterproof wind

shield radiator, the plaintive inconsolable
crying babies alarmed Aunt Henna. Mass
media did radio this *******, tripped,
and trashed tragic travesty. No tuner then
atrocious, baseless, callous dirt deed done

dirt cheap, one loud speaker after another
took to the airwaves, and sundry tele
communications outlets. Sad doggone sonic
booms (representative of sub woofer)
soul fully bellowed forth broadcasting across

humungous flat screens appalling catastrophe
unfolding reminiscent of battery abuses
against scapegoats since time immemorial,
otherwise known as (ohm my dog) volt age.

I gauge how wealth (or lack thereof) constitutes
as distributor. Electronic timing controllers
(viv a vis the internet and/or virtual realty
simulates) function as ignition modus operandi
to communicate gross injustices renting asunder

heart wrenching agony engendering abysmal
leap into nothingness. Existence rendered moot
as despicable horrors inflicted upon deportees.
Thee footworn, forlorn foghorn troops (analogous
to stone temple pilots) unwittingly journey into

torturous labyrinth, herein monsters ******
suckling babes. A pained spotlight signals sense
sore re:us, nasty and brutal choking, that throttles
the psyches battered beyond thermostatic threshold
of tolerance. Now any Earthling with sense and sense

ability must heed this alarm and siren infringing
abominably primal tenets, ethos, credos aligning
power train, sans **** sapiens linkedin as
one organic entity.
jeffrey robin Sep 2015
(           We       )

VIVA LA RASA

(         We       )

VIV LA CAUSA

,;;

We are one

We are

One

~~|||||||~~

hey hey

What're ya doing ?

Say boy

Are ya done with yer

***** loving ???

?
( he's ***** - whipped ! )
( he's *****-whipped ! )
( he's ***** - whipped ! )

HE 'S JUST A ***** !

••

just like da little girls want him to be !

""

for their
**** AND TELL ALL ABOUT IT

So - called poetry !!!!!!

••

Say boy

What're ya sayin ?

Hey boy

What're ya gonna do  ?

))((

are YE gonna live in love ?

Are YE ready to die for the truth !
Big Virge Apr 2021
So... Which One Are You... ???
When It Comes To What You Do...

Are You One of The CALLED... ?
Or... One Who’s Part...
of The CHOSEN Few... ?!?

It’s A Really Good Question...
On Which To... CHEW... !!!

Because We Now Seem...
To Have MANY Who BELIEVE...

That They’re The GREATEST Thing...
Since We Had... MARVIN... !?!

A Man Who Was CHOSEN...
To Perform And SING... !!!

Just Like KING VIV...
When It Came To Batting... !!!
Because His Cricketing Gifts...
Were BEYOND Amazing... !!!

As Were... ALI’s...
When He BUCKLED Knees...
With Punching Speed...
That Was BEYOND Belief... !!!

You See...
The Chosen Have Potions...
Like... Poets In Motion...

While Most Are Just CALLED...
To Cause A COMMOTION... !!!

Because They Run MORE Talk...
Than... Walkers WALK... !!!
But The Talk That They Feed...
Is CHEAPER Than Cheap... !!!

So The Called Tend To Be...
A Breed That’s WEAK... !!!!!!!!!
Who Are MORE Like Sheep...

Than Humans Steeped In...
..... GREAT Qualities..... !!!

When You REALLY See...
How These People Be... !!!!!!!!

... UNABLE To Lead... !!!
So They Tend To FOLLOW...
And Do What They’re Told...
Because They’re HOLLOW...
When It Comes To Their Souls...

LOST... I Guess So... ?!?
When You Hear Their Quotes...
About... “ Who They Know “...

And The Places They Go...
Because They Are KNOWN... !!!

And The Number of **’s...
And Nowadays Blokes...
Who Give Up Their Holes... !!!
So That They Can Get CLOSE...
To Those CLAIMING To Be...
... CHOSEN To SUCCEED... !!!

When It Comes To Money...
... Raising Families...
And Of Course Being DEEMED...

As People Who...
Have Been CHOSEN To Do...

What It Is That They Do...
That Proves That They...
DESERVE To Be Named...
In... " Halls of FAME "... !!!

But Heres Some TRUTH...
That They WON’T Tell You... !!!

That The Called Are MANY...
But The CHOSEN FEW...
AREN’T Those On Your Telly...
Or Those In BOARDROOMS...

Because The CALLED Are...
... Quite SMELLY... !!!

Because They Get USED...
Just Like TAMPONS Do... !!!
While The CHOSEN Refuse...
To Link Up With Crews...
Who Get Things Confused...

When It Comes To The TRUTH...
About... Who Gets BROKEN...
Because They’re NOT Chosen... !!!

They’re Just CALLED To Be SEEN...
Until The Company They Keep...

Call Time On Them...
If They Choose To LET...
Things Get To Their Head... !!!

While The CHOSEN Present...
HIGH Levels of SENSE...
That Present GREATNESS... !!!

Whether Through Poems...
Or The Passing of Tests...

That Try To OFFEND...
And Make Them CALL...
For The Type of NONSENSE...
That The CALLED DEFEND... ?

Because They Choose To REJECT...
... BASIC Common Sense... ?!?

That’s Right Women And Men...
Who Like To... PRETEND...
That They Are The BEST...

At EVERYTHING From ***...
To Cashing BIG Cheques...
And Having Knowledge...

Which When You CHECK...

Is Cos’ The Called IGNORE...
Higher Levels of Thought...
Because They’re CALLED...
And CHOSEN To FALL... !!!

Like NIAGRA Fa’ Sure... !!!

I Don’t Know Anymore... ?!?
If The Price of The Stalls...
Is Worth Paying For...
Just To See The... CALLED...

When They Run SO MUCH TALK...
That... CLEARLY Falls Short... !!!
of Them Being A FORCE...
That PROVES WITHOUT DOUBT...

That They’re One of The CHOSEN... !!!
And NOT ONE Who’s Just... “ Called “... !!!
It's a pretty good question ....
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2017
if you can't be bothered to learn a second language? i, can't be bothered to relinquish my mother (tongue); that's just how it works; and no, mono-lingualism doesn't give birth to monotheism, given the example of moses, monotheism can only exist in a realm of bilingualism - just like the quantum effect of electrons; which is why islam is so, ******* arrogant, being the child among the father of judaism, and the mother of christianity... it wants to convert, but it doesn't bother to teach you arabic, which is a necessary precursor to practice the religion (apparently). yet i still think that, for monotheism to exist, it can only exist in a bilingual environment; you need to be fractioned, to encompass a whole, a oneness that's mono-, a god standing on one foot joking about having to dance, when instead imitating the jitters of a sparrow hopping, rather than gloomily, proud, and executioner fathomable parade of the crow.

   well, isn't islam a spoilt brat?
                                 isn't it?! is islam not a sploit brat?
                oh right... no dubai, no oil...
               hasn't islam become a sploit brat?
                           isn't it screaming and shouting
                and stomping its feet all around the place?
                to me? islam is a sploit brat...
           with papa judaism and mama christianity
   wondering how to deal with this insolent
          critter; the little ******* needs a good beating
      so he can shut the **** up; and what's with
   the orthodoxy of banning music?
             well... if you're going to ban music...
                           stop singing the ******* adhan!
    do what the catholics do... murmur it!


zamilkł*    (he became silenced)
        zamilkła (she became silenced)

     in english:        with england's                                

in polish:
                           z polską
                                    (with    poland)

­        and how the possessive article changes.

we all have our grievences,
to reclaim what we once had,

         the greeks have istambul...

  the germans have marienburg...
    
                         the poles have l'viv...

we all have our grievances...

  in the 19th century a few people stressed
a nostalgia for ancient greece...

   in the 21st century?
             the greeks are hardly nostalgic
about their ancient pillars...
   they're more into their byzantine heritage...
i guess the name is what's
       nostalgia per se,
           rather than the fact that...
   well... they're no remembered for much...
other than trying to keep islam at bay...
nostalgia in name only (i.e. byzantine) -
   belzebub belzebub... helen?
  hellenic?
                 belzebub byzantine belzebub...

well, perhaps there are a few cantos sung
by byzantine monks...
    and when you hear it?
              god, you can almost hear turkish
being spoken,
         and this is sung by greeks!
let's face it, turks have the same ι (iota)
    as the greeks;
                   the matter? settled in cyprus.
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2017
there's either a tribalism to return to, or there's a return to trivialities, pedantry and offing on incredulous banalities of modern life; modern life, what a treat: more like cubicle life (ref. p.t.s.d.).

yet among the rubble, there's hope -
     the intricacy of little pleasures -
     *klein freude
... apologies:
    i have both the annoying tendency
of an englishman saying sorry
for no apparent reason,
  which, to the english, is a bit like saying
'hello' - and i have a fetish for
the deutschezunge (german tongue) -
don't ask me why,
                 i can only guess at the idea
of heaven as being a place where
i speak german...
               but then again: i'd miss the
trilling of the R in slavic...
   **** it, whatever.
            - it's high autumn (by the way -
and by the way: colon = italics,
and - hyphen at the beginning works
just as well as a semi-colon, i.e.:
a hovering manoeuvre of interjection;
i'm not kidding you,
  it's no mere heimlich).
  - i found it debatable,
full-stop inside... or outside the use
of p.s. linear (bracket)?
               ..., now that's a cliff-hanger:
suspense! wow! houdini just
entered the building, and he left an hour
later, as elvis.
cheap jokes: keep 'em coming.
- now i've heard of magic tricks that
wow audiences, e.g. swallowing swords,
but doing the cockney magic trick
of swallowing letters?
       never!
                can you imagine swallowing
letters?
        a bit like the perpetually asiatic
swallowing of the H -
      khan - whoever has khan
as a surname, and is from pakistan -
grand-grand-grand-grand-grand-grand...
grand-mother must 'ave been
genghis' khan's concubine...
            don't you think?
**** got: wacky!
     funky wack, shimmy shimmy shimmy.
- and yet (yes, with a hyphen
+ interjection, you can begin a sentence
with a conjunction) -
              what's the only good
thing you can say about the nazis?
        gucci ****** gabanna and never
looked back,
it was one, giant, fashion ****...
  everyone, even the poles,
     always, and i mean: always -
pays the nazis the compliment akin
to a z. z. top song, because they were,
sharp-dressed men;
  and my i add, there's no grand oops
to be minded on either your's,
or my behalf;
   i can almost see these actors or
       background images of "actors"
without one-liners (cameos are for
people famous in other fields) -
   frothing at their mouths,
so eager to don the uniforms of
    the wehrmacht...
                          well, might as well
reference it now...
my paternal great-grandfather owned
the ss ehrendolch -
  the dagger with the insignia that spelled
out:
  |m|e|i|n|e| |e|h|r|e| |h|e|i|ß|t| |t|r|e|u|e|
problem is: i don't know if it was his,
or whether post-war "totem":
i'm thinking of the correct word,
but i can't find it... you know -
like scalps were... hmm...
      not memorabilia...
   ah, **** it, totem it is.
father never really talked about it
beyond owning it,
       then again, his mother came from
Silesia, and Silesia was annexed from
germany and given to poland,
    while the russians took l'viv...
so... hands in the air, i honestly don't
know the correct version.
- ah, but that's beside the point...
autumn, i have a fetish for this season...
its sheer opulence of scents,
  far greater than that spring provides...
it must be the cold,
  the early nibbling of winter's chill,
winter the crab, lobster spinster that
pinches and never forgives,
   and is never asked to forgive.
the grey skies, the endless night -
      the season where the crow and the kafka
orate the deathly silences -
of which there are seven -
  and my my, watching snow fall in
the night... that's when god reveals
he's transgender, and lifts his skirt up to
revel in the image of venus...
    but that's how nature is, evidently,
the near monochromatic colours of
    decay, ranging between the heart warming
browns, reds and yellows or oranges;
  i agree with frank o'hara -
orange is a terrible colour,
but not when it mingles with the others,
when it does so, it compliments them.
yet the decay of non-animate objects
(well, trees are animate, but in slow motion) -
yet the decay of nature on the level
of plants, unlike an animal or a fruit or
vegetable... nature showcases decay as a:
bouquet of sweetness...
                      i could never imagine watching
something dying to be so,
******* beautiful...
           melancholic beauty -
perhaps because the death of man is so
****** depressing,
  and that fact that you already have
the a priori of spring being recurrent
  and just around the corner...
           whatever is...
                autumn is never too long,
but always too short...
       and just behind it,
  the humbled trees,
    with their shady skeletons and lost
crowns of lost hair...
             seemingly mangled and stringy
by some sort of arthritic deformity...
       still, a humbled tree,
  makes for an enlightened man.

p.s. the perfume of smoking wood,
cinnamon and butternut squash
cloves, cardamon and perhaps
a tinge of fennel... and
                  foxes mating in the night,
almost makes me un-wish wanting to
hear wolves howl.
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2017
you won't find platonists (idealists) in german these days, you could have in the 19th century, mingling with romanticism, but these days? you will only face harsh empiricism of the revival of aristotle: esp. given the populist guidence of darwnistic dogma... but still the persiting platonism, whereby there is no longer a base of the idea (ίδηά - absolute variation: έ vs. η, given acute alpha), which has become replaced by the image (εικóνα)... platonism has become narcissism, and also the advertising industry, how platonism evolved to degrade phonetic encoding by creating coca-cola icons - why on earth are word treated as images due to their copyright / trademark restrictions?!

we know what happened when
platonism approached judaism:
it gave birth to christianity...
namely plenty of "ideas" that
became reduced in value as
icons -
     but what if aristotelianism
were to approach judaism?

psili* and varia -
     the ancient greeks paid little if no
respect for judaism...
   the romans?
   they were in beserker mode,
too busy expanding an empire to
give concern for the minute concerns
of faith, heart, mind...
the "new testament" is a ****
of the original text...
   beginning with genealogy... what a ******
beginning... no edenic poetry...
   no enemy at the fore...
about time to **** the greeks
and thank them, by telling them:
                                   to *******!
i'm not being ***** whipped complaing
about reclaiming the city of l'viv
like you are concerned about rebrading
istanbul, constantinople;
this ******* juvenile nostalgia for
the past, is rife within the greek spirit,
as it is, within the islamic ummah.

if aristotelianism was to approach judaism,
after 2000+ years of platonism distorting
it... you'd get anti-linguists, like me,
    invoked by alcohol-fused berserker mode
of biting into language like
   a greenland shark...
                                     or a bull terrier:
******, i'm not letting go,
     i'll gnaw till my iron teeth clench
your bones, break them, and **** at
                                                            th­e marrow.
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2020
nudni ludzie zawsze mają coś
do powiedzenia

-

boring people, always have
something to say,

bo to zawsze znaczy gawarić
         o innych -

because it always means
speaking about others.

3 ******* nights,
i've been mitigating "concern"
for a light source
via a candle,
   and a samsung tablet...

what has resorted
in giving me the most comfort?
what prometheus came down
with onto the plateau...

what the demigod son of
zeus came down with,
with, electricity?!

                  fire, fire is comforting,
in that it warms,
but also illuminates...
what is a thunder bolt?
light... and then?
  electrocution!
         no more, no, less!

the cats agree...
i'm good with:
from earth you came,
unto the earht you will return...
in between?
i need to pour some wax
into my hand,
just, to "make" sure...

                    danke (dir).
hier, mein zeppelin!

          was war was:
        mit die Elisabeth-Gruß?!
             tragen-zu komödie-skizzieren?!

english people talk too much...
   englischvolk spreschen zu viel...

i'll speak my german,
via anglican grammar...
                for a reason...
       beyond the reason of:
well, i've integrated...
there's no other reason for me
to "integrate",
other than to,
disembody myself from
these, corrupt people...

              ich bin deutsche,
durch fälschen...

            i had to...
  you think relearning head-banging
was somehow "easy",
without learning some deutsche?!

oh, yes yes...
   ich war gehen mein glauben im
diese fälschung sachsen...

   pierdole...
               nawet...  jeżeli mówię
gminą mowy,
  a nie panem miasta:
tym - germańskim...
                             to, moja: sprawa...

when was, center, osten?
            oh, right... when Warschau...
und Berlin was "osten" off anywhere
beside Paris or Loon'don,
and as far east as Novosibirsk?
as vest as is vest as
is the "pity" showered upon
           Doob'lin?!

i'm waiting.

and in my waiting: who could say...
i have a fetish for german language...
but none of their pornographic materials?

perhaps i would have learned french...
if i knew the post-latin order...
and how the germanic languages use another
order... how even western slavic uses...
post-latin romantic order of words...

best example?
sunflower oil... in english...
in german: sonnenblumenöl...
huile de tournesol in french...
olej słonecznikowy in ****** western slavic -
masovian or galician or...

the sunflower is a "precursor" of...
oil... not elsewhere...
among the french and among the polacks
oil is stressed first...
then the denotation of: what kind of oil?
why i didn't learn french?
oh... i was supposed to forget my mother
tongue...
i would have learned german
with more ease having acquired english...
fwench ****** it oops...

what's that, kind auditory hallucination
of spontaneity and no l.c.d. being ingested?
what's that word?
niemcy? hear that? the word means:
germans...

so what's cooking and more to the point...
who's cooking and what?
languages?
in my vicinity... 4 at least...
one as still acquired...
one in a caste of a broken lending broker...
one as a fetish and one as
a... minor fetish... Paris circa 2004...
and not because i'm english in any way
possible and i have a: the sort of grudge
that a ****** deals a russian a hand...
english superstitious enclaves when being
a tourist in Paris...
as someone not from Warsaw...
i did find a lisp of Bulgahov in Moscow...
it was aired... suspiciously silent...
a dog-whistle you might say...

the old capital was in lesser Poland...
greater Poland and its trade ties to
Brandenburg via Posen...
no one was expecting a Winchester to London
shift... the masovians were being
incorporated synonym in tempus (in time)
with what was to become of the pagan Prussians...
the new rulers of lower buxton & saxony...
punk history lessons...
because the northern crusades only took
place due to some people
defending the last pagans of europe...
the lithuanians...
and the marriage was a success...
as was rome...
the crown that was known
as greater poland, lesser poland...
snippet of pomeranian...
and...

when bohemia became integral to
the borders of defining the holy roman empire...
the crown with the grand duchy of lithuania...
perhaps the post-vikings did *****
a brick that founded the basis of Kiev...
but there's also L'viv...
and as one greek said to me...
there's no Istambul where i look...
there's only a Constantinople...

no... the Notre Dame would have survived
the **** occupation...
Paris wasn't bombed...
London though? it's a miracle that St. Paul's
survived... with or without a fire...

all this history and... no history class back
in school... dates that are like cognitive
tattoos... i am almost ashamed of reciting them...
but then i do have a body without ink...
historical infantilism...
who is to cite the h'american constitution,
the declaration of independence...
who is to cite the magna carta...
who is to convene over the Union of Lublin -
signed in 1569 - that created a single state
of the Polish–Lithuanian Commonwealth -
who is to ask this "neo-nazis" these
germ-an-ans... and the Muslims regarding
their Iraqi "beef" with the Mongols?

is this truly infantalism? historical infantalism?
to remember or at least,
ascribe oneself a continued presence
of these events? what if not in skin alone...
the mind is a fickle embryo that's bound
to be ****** into a whirlpool of:
scientific exploration and "gender neutral pronouns"...

because what the hell is worth my attention...
that a battle of Hastings took place in 1066?
what of the battle of Tannenberg in 1410...
then the teutonic knights were fighting a northern
crusade against a converted people from 966...
and their coalition of lithuanian pagans
and the rabble e pluribus unum?

infantilism... i guess it must be infantilism...
just like those people citing the former
glory of the british empire...
and they being the descendents of former colonial
subjects...
but if they're all so oh very serious...
look at my tattoos! look at my historical infantilism!

i too can play this game...
i too can look bleak with surprise:
oh you think that the northern crusades didn't take
place? the only holy ground is the levant?
not the old forests of mother Prussia?
to me... it's historical infantalism...
to most it's... Al-Ḥarb al-Ahliyyah al-Libnāniyyah...
or the Dissolution of Yugoslavia...
or...

that... "thing" in Syria...
i love how the Muslims love to put down Christianity
as not being the religion of the pacified...
hell... even i have heard of buddhist warrior monks...
and they cite!
my good friend Samir loved citing this to me...
when i was going through my apostasy and wasn't
ever going to be confirmed in the church's
bureucracy...
apparently a Muslim in the west knows very
little about the catholics coming from old Rus...
vicinity...
what's that quote he used...
matthew 10:34 - do not suppose that i have come
to bring peace to the earth.
i did not come to bring peace, but a sword...

and my most beloved quote about
a second coming... in the Islamic hadith...
حدیث نماز خواندن عیسی به امامت مهدی‎
the (hadith of jesus praying behind mahdi)
as cited by ibn ibn ibn abu huraiah
ibn ibn ibn allamah sayyid sa'eed akhtar rizvi
ibn ibn ibn jabir ibn abd allah...
ibn ibn ibn al-husayn al-ajiri and many others...

where will the kind sir, descend?
in Damascus... and again that Syria "thing"...
once upon a time i could find a good
quote with regards to the descent...
his hair will appear as if falling pearls...
his tears this that and the other...
in a: once upon a time you could find
everything on the internet without it being
meddled for herr zensor purposes and -
an objective lack of transparency...

i see no better indicator that a second coming
has occured within the dogmatism of Islam...
if you couple the two "stipends" of:
believable wording to be carried on and on...
until a freak accident like the Syrian civil
war occurs...

it was hardly a civil war in the polish-lithuanian
commonwealth...
given how the swedes felt inclined to invade
and lay their deluge...
because the king was a swede in this...
freakish... monarchic democracy....
and of course the ukranians...
and of course add some spice of the ottoman
nibble...

again: isn't this historical infantalism?
i should be... when people have all the right
to excavate as much from the holocaust
and the dead in the water slave, trade...
trade... which implies the middle ground
of misery while two opposing factions prospered...

to write of such things...
and not need a little sense of how infantile it is
or rather: can become?
in an otherwise pedagogic rubric?
like we, really needed to learn of the fact
that england was under roman occupation...
and how that's a reason to be proud...
as somehow related to the modern
aesthetic splendour of the Italians...
of which the modern germans scoff at...
given their mozart and their "****"
of the opera... and how... oh ****... i'm using
their letters... but how the germans nor the polacks...
ever entertained the ancient romans...

again... this most certainly has to be some
variant of infantilism... why would i recite
some distant date...
mind citing a past and dead and gone?
perhaps... i never really figured out a "way out"...
perhaps i was always playing the mole...
and digging trenches...
looking up psychological erosion of:
being just as bad as the "other side"...

or perhaps i'm just the sort of *******-beater
that forgot to fall in love so so hard
that he would be living with a regret
of getting a tattoo of a name: ИЛOНA
on his left collar-bone?

perhaps one of the two!
let's flip a coin!
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2020
the upper-house of the *****: the slaughterhouse...
  that / the / it...
    "        
"ta" wyższa-izba rzeszy: rzeźń... point to argue:
                                           rzeźnia...
why then... am i conjuring up
a don't from a do not...
    with the shortening: rzeźń?

i hardly don't know what to make
of the post 2004 mass migration
from the newly acquired: "proto-roman empire"
expansion project from those
Belgian chocolatiers...
          if this is a joke of the vierte *****...
which it is... the drei ***** and the 1000 years...

depends on the locality of said tongue...
once a token ******... never a token... ******...
not when the beer and sausages were shipped:
i never felt more, nor less:
home...             beside the ground on
which i stand?
                    all this talk of home...
home... dom... the sky?
               wait until another whimsical trickle
of russian or german to settled the matter?
will then: herr... zeitundimmerstrikt  &
                       товарищ сейчасзагадка...

mellow this... branch of the house of ßaß...
                  
- hardly an impromptu -
      there was no chance that a polish-liathuanian
commonwealth would
"come back" together...

  not through the civil war: that can hardly
be deemed a civil war...
which - whatever the beginnings...
the ukranian cossack uprising...

and sweden and russia and the ottoman
empire nibbling...

what arose or was drawn with better
stencils than the middle-east...
            only left "us" with...
a sub-group of people that...
spoke their own gvara (vulgate)...

whatever was left of "us"...
sooner or later died... L'viv was deserted...
the Volhynia...
                   "schizoid"...

that "we" didn't become the prior to
Yugoslavia...
the difference were already apparent...
the Galicians and the Kashubians...
i'd venture as far as to call the Masovians
the Prussians of this little nugget of land...
let's in part call one the Welsh...
and the other Scots...
              but... no more will a Miłosz...
or a Mickiewicz cite odes to Lithuania...
when what was Lithuania a lore ago...
   which it isn't now...      a baltic enclave...

how terrible of me to come with
the beer and the sausages and the sourdough...
i blame that on the 2004 spike...
they're all returning home...
     a "home" the remains soon to be written off...
the grandparents...
soon to be written off...
             i'll be coming "home" like
a ******* tourist... perhaps one day...
Toruń will oblige me with me in it...
or Lublin...

                 to have made a home out out
Edinburgh...
         hell... if Cardiff could have retained
an old quarter... of architecture... i'd have settled
for it and took up lessons in Welsh...

and, this is not a joke:
why won't you find, a willing rabbi...
to convert you...
the muslims on the other hand...
are so willing: i was a german on edgeware rd.
once...
why won't you find a willing rabbi...
to convert you?
if it was only a "concern of detail"
for the kippah and a circumcision...
but... over-arching... you weren't "chosen"...
proselyte...
   what's the definition in islam...
not apostate: not a non-believer...

a proselyte: pawns on a game of chess...
that they were nurtured without
their own knowing...
   the mamluks and the janissary...
                
such grand words being thrown about...
  Galicia... Ruthenia...
        
the old world with the old words:
oculus per oculus - an eye for an eye...
           guilt a burden of both the righteous
and the ignominious:
that... a wisdom bound to serve:
a toothpick... since a chopstick does not
suffice!

  guilt: a burden shared by both the guilty:
and the guiltless...
           that i should be the one to know:
the difference of good AND evil...
one and the same... a "working progress"...
well: with AND...
i probably, i suspect:
  that i shouldn't be able to state:
EITHER good OR evil...
           i have to drag this empty coffin
to the burial ground...
to know the difference between: good AND evil
is NOT:
   you will be able to say:
it's EITHER good OR bad...
                             good and evil muddled...
it this... grand... spectacular:
"plot twist"!

           home is where i decide to pluck
consonants and vowels from:
apart from the spike circa 2004... no more...
i just need the minor distinction of letters...
if you'd want to see what sort
of a catholic church whip! and leash!
came after: pope! saint! jean-paul II...
  to have this man glorified...
for simply kissing airport tarmack like
a muslim imitation of prayer...

      the greatest footballers from the former:
satellite commonwealth: "whittle poland"...
of the 1970s... polish jazz...
    the cold war blanket...
              typo riddled scripts itching to get out
of east Berlin and G.D.R. - Berlin, Prague?
****... Cracow - hardly the selling point...
nor is Bratislava or... Masovian Minsk...

Sorbian? yeah yeah... that Serbian of the north...
gentlemen! we have infiltrated zee *****!
   ode to the: Lusatians and the Wends!
project glasgow! speak us much of a joseph
merrick english as is required:
but no diacritical markers!
   leave the "concept" of orthography to Dickens...
making a survey of: d'ah d'um 'uck of
cockney and 'ears... p'p'***...

                clearly i do not require enclaves...
or... those... birmingham esque minarets...
          i'd very much like to keep my ******...
since "i've" lost the lithuanian to project: подчищать это!

the ukranians: bandy УПА...
     the croat nazis: NDH...
                      the ukranians can settle their... ahem...
"differences" with the tsar and tsarina...
but i'm happy to have indulged in the smuggling
to tobacco... case in point:
lately from Romania... and Moldova:
which could perhaps be: one and the same...
the selling price in england: circa 10 quid...
on the black market? stepping up to 5 quid a packet...
once upon a time: three-and-a-fifty (pence)...

limitations of "******* anonymous"...
   peerage... eyes looking up...
         the lost stars... the moon and sun...
                thus gained?
            impromptu suggestion:
                glued to a hypnosis of a...
            mantis... slobber-mouth... smeared
with tummy-juices...
    and nothing of a LOL...
                        when... at least back then:
clean-shaven... it wouldn't have mattered...
to reverse the: gorge-job...
came the slippery p.s. from gomorrah:
we eats ******* 'ere...
*****: ergo: no go zone-out...
    postulating the birth of a tapeworm
from a sprout of squeezed acne... plush: said
the very-berry and... and over-matured plum
and pear trickle graffiti...

which brings no known point of introspection
when she's doing her:
milan kundera moment:
do you pierce - the eyes are a needle
and a thread: and there's also a camel...
which very much depends on kissing
the lips and... gorging on a "flower"...

spaced-out monkey-zombie brains...
endowed... h'america... a land of lazily associated
english sounding town-names...
around noon: father fatigue...
           crisp cut: mississippi lobotomy blues...
is a ****-muncher a citizen of gomorrah?
that's not a question, not, really...

             imagine william burroughs attempting
to write a comic book script...
while shooting shelves of paint urns
onto a canvas: what sort of comic book
reads when pursuing an adventure into
Kandinsky?
                   it's not pretentious it's not
indigenous: but a proper bacon wrap is done
so... with a dollop of h.p. sauce...
period...

milking the natives shying away under
the moon and crescent:
look no further! from under the hammer and
sickle... sun and scythe...
from under the iron curtain into
this limbo la-la-land of: the silicon macabre:
niqab'aeh...
   that: ma'caaaaa (b) (surd) - almost...
forget the trill... the rattle-snake...
                              the peerage of: your lordship!

           pleateau of the readily available
butcher's choice... murking the waters...
  there will never be enough of mud...
  to cover these tracks of ***** and celeste!

   tyler bates - cucksocker;
******* on corks with no screws...
after the fire - der kommissar...
            
a soundtrack for all those "girlfiends" you'd
want to top up with...
when playing videogames...

no... beyond the scope of tenchu:
i lost the plot of peering onto a canvas
that seemed to borrow too much
from the mario bros. respite...
the detail: the graphics:
the sims and the simps and all those
words that never:
was it merely i... or did...
graffiti simply: do the dodo project
act and antic?!

           party time at the brothel:
does it matter they're all bulgarian pretending
to be romanian?
does it?
        
this goes pop... i'll be rummaging in my grave
trying to curb my shadow from
turning into a neon-flare:
but i won't...
                    this is registered under
the "pseudonym" of under-paid: sent...
i lick the envelope...
i lick the stamp...
imagine my disbelief that i suddenly
do not become a philatelist!

                the cheap cigarettes is a'plenty...
i will never wish or hope or dream...
of disturbing that 'appy 'appy land
of psychopaths and the beatles *****
taking a sly turn via
ohio having a punctured rubber...
because in the land of cain...
celebrated as they are: those *******...
no...
      not "here" not "anywhere": not " now"...
h'america i'll be most glad to look
away from...
       but thank you thank you: much kudos...
and the IRA have served up
their signature to the collective
research project...
stemming from the chants of Tehran...
via the...
             we had coffee over in Beirut...
at the time when...
all the trash-workers were working
on the symphony concerning
                    down syndrome's take on
h'arab schpring!

Tyrone in Tangiers: in the 1960s...
because love of man for man...
back when...
   harems and polygamy was all a rage
among the arabs...
it was either jerking off..
joining the army...
finding the next of kin and kin:
"plumbing issue"...
to eat out ****... became equivalent to
butterflies...
and the gardener imploring:
i! hippocrates!

                 strobe disco lights... epilepsy challenge!
cue lazarus: goodbye rodeo!
               that boyfriend you could...
but this isn't Prague...
    and there's no... you could:
or an i hope to: either...
Berlin green... elsewhere all but blue...
but in germ-and-the-many...
it's: gween...
              
                    neon-gween...
       ­                             exfoliations of the ****...
when... sitting the crucified pose
of being strapped to the throne of thrones...
all that is required of us...
is to...
        rummage... sift... and...
                     place into rubric cages...
these following items...
sacrilege (a)...
             sacrilege (b)...
                            lacklustre concerns for
catholic intellect... beside the pompous fwench:
item (c)...
the crucifix is an instrument of torture:
i hear avow... the need to gesticulate...
prayer... before the altar of the womb of mary:
the ******... the iron maiden!
i will consecrate my knees...
and my quote of shakespeare: as to how
hands do the bidding of lips...
when monks pray and... sub-se-quen-tly...
n'est ce pas?

                                  enough! the curtain
is about to fall sacred: to either the sound of silence...
to the hush of aghast... or.... applause!

   a tale of david: the story of...
because... somehow... the same letter...
had to find exfoliation in: beside geometry...
how nabla married deltu...
            ∇                       Δ

both of the same "eye"...
         ∇: this is moses...
                     Δ: this is, "the" pharaoh...

              please... no amount of shoeline...
or... these... the pork not eaten:
because not kosher: made into shoes
and belts... will do away...
with judaism and her ha-gar: sarah:
islam... the son of the cocubine... ishamel...
islam...

desert people politics...
      such are the affairs of people who know
only sand, wind - water and shade...
who have no concern or concept for:
the fern and the pig... the forest...
and the siberia tundra...

"we" were "invited" and at the same time...
appealing to the rationing of "beliefs"
lost by the greeks...
doubly lost by the plagiarism of the romans...
zeus became jupiter: the sacking of troy...
blah blah:
keeping onto a past: when asking a people:
who, "had, no, past"!

          in praise of older women...
one comes to mind... Khadija **** Khuwaylid...
muhammad was illiterate, yes?
who wrote the first verses of the quran?
mein gott! a woman!
when all turned against him...
and before... he could... somehow... much later...
find his metaphysical bride: Ayisha...
blah blah centuries later:
toying with a kandinsky!
toying with a kandinsky!
    to hell with a linear narrative:
the "proverb run quote":
i'll sooner watch a cactus grow from my
outstretched hand... than i'll see the germans
re-unified...
so was the saying...
and so is the "counter" and "proof"...

        "home"... what a nice... sleeping-beauty
concept of / for concerns...
oculus per oculus...
                      because christianity wasn't
spreading fast enough...
and that new adventures up north
would only be revealed much later:
jawohl! mein kommandant!

                    did islam... emerge: to speed up
the process?
of turning... the crucifix... into anything
more than what was already required?!
a Q's worth of a *****?

          forgive me... if i don't pay homage
to this... hieroglyph... perhaps i might:
tool a "dyslexic" impromptu or tow: two!

by the time islam emerged...
               it took another 600 years to convert
lithuania: which poland defended...
       no matter: "we're" to blame for...
what?!
                 Q - the ***** and the egg...
which also means:
eqqs: ekks: not eggs...    
i try to eat at least one poultry
abortion a morning most willing come!

can shadows filter: dust-sodden-clay?
Spend it all like Viv'
give some
buy some
throw some and why not
try being a *** like me?

I am the original
the one and lonely
blueprint
for being skint

never won a sausage
on a gee gee
or backed a winning dog
at the track in Hackney
someone should call for
a stewards inquiry
(I might have a bet on that)

Never known a cure for the poorest of the poor
that wasn't self-inflicted.
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2018
a niech še Mickiewicz
tę Litczonke pochówawszy...
poszle'ji prosto po Greka,
j'baniem po tsara Cyrola!
psi tryp!
gawari to samo so pies
o ogon koło bada!
morda zorem kulą,
morda zorem na szczyt
cerkfi kieła gryz szarpana.
       a tu mi grzyw,
a tu mi łokieć,
a tu po chłopsku
kiedy zdziw jako:
       PIN'jebanamać'gwint!
sto kurva razy tego fryz
litanii 'wina sie pytoł:
zachooooood, ci tyьбıe wschód?
no ta(h) zegnój ci to teraz
do świcki!
                         popierdolone rho
cyrku i romā(h)...
pomiatajrzy Mickiem po
cha cha cha lit... win... skim...
Co,  Pani nie pod pisze wyroku sądu
nad nad, tym wyrzszy, tzn. po-wia-to-wy?
Litwin udaje panicza,
   'krainiec stara: boze dopomuz
stać po pijaku... nad... świnią!
Litwa i mazowsze niech i tam,
co i tam... pochybel, sicz,
     cień, i zmartwychstań, wola...
niech no ciota skryje bliny...
jam człek... cytaty cy niet cytaty...
ale wbrew romansidła...
       krew sieje gniew...
a gniewaj nad lublu czy tesz
lulu...
             od dziwki smak rumieńca,
jako kosak wart wiatri i cienia...
niech ten panicz Mickiewicz spierdala
do Wilna, do licheń lacha
smarkatka...
          my to Ukroj i Wina...
       chleb z pod Kijowa...
      a krew z murów zwanym Vavel...
litfa to kiedys byla...
    smarkatka dworzan...
     ni tu, ni teruz...
masz ci my dyszli...
   zbroje 'glika: anną zwysz...
          ci dam znów: KUNDLA
ZOREM O TYCZ'KE I ZBIÓR!
              co boze sam ni d'oh...
człek tym warty o ******>    razy pierw to gnać, co boźy
rozum pierw szarpnie cienia...
honestly, the crown's romance
with Lithuania is long gone and stale...
I will die, not having seen L'viv...
and all the happier my lack
of dreams will be,
           as of now, unto death...
    Mickiewicz had his romance
with Lithuania,
   i, at least, can appreciate,
Ukrainian beer...
               no fun having staged
the European championship with
Poland... so no wonder the annexed
Crimea...
           thank god I never actually
managed to breed with English women,
even recreationally...
    given the current: and what if
Pontius Pilate ate vindaloo
for breakfast? search me,
  you either ask Jack or Sherlock.
Big Virge Nov 2020
Ya Know......

These Days I’m MORE Discerning....
When Studying My Learnings...

of How Some Minds Be Working...

Because To Me...
It’s Quite DISTURBING... !!!!!!

From TWERKING To Jerking...
Most Now Seem QUITE CERTAIN.... !!!

That SWITCH LANE Type FLIRTING...
Is Just A... NEW VERSION...
of ****** Type YEARNINGS... !!!!

Well These Days I’m Smirking...
From Things I’m OBSERVING...

Cos’ I’m MORE of A THINKER...
Than Those Who Wear BLINKERS... !!!!

And These Days TOO MANY... !!!
Are CLEARLY... UnSteaDy... !!!
And Seem To Be READY...
To... ARGUE Their Point...
Like Some Kind of OINK... !?!

By This I Mean... WELL...
Heads That Now SWELL...
With Thinking That Dwells...

Somewhere... UNWELL... !!!
And I DON’T MEAN Hell... !!!

Somewhere MUCH WORSE.... !!!!!
Because Their Heads HURT... !!!

From Thought Waves That SMELL...
of Somewhere Where THINKING...
Is CLEARLY Left... SINKing... !!!!!

... TITANICALLY TRAGIC.... !!!
And Harrison... " FRANTIC "... !!!

These Heads FOR SURE...
Just... CANNOT Afford... !!!
To Let Their Thoughts RUN...
Because Their Blades CUT...
Like Their Thinking Is DUMB... !!!

FINITE Like Tom Thumb... !!!!!
And FILLED With ***’... !!!!!
... BASTARDISED Sons...
CHIMPS With NO CHUMS... !!!

Whose Thinking Functions...
Up On... HIGHER LEVELS... !!!
Than These Thoughtless Devils... !!!

But TRUTH Is... THESE Heads...
Even HADES... REJECTS... !!!

Because Their DEFECTS....
Would CLEARLY INFECT...
... “ IGNORAMUSES “... !!!!!!

HOLD UP And Just... CHECK...
… What It Is I Just Said... !!!

If They’d INFECT THEM... ?!?
Then They’ve Got REAL PROBLEMS... !!!!!

BELIEVE IT Hell Yeah.... !!!!!!

You See THINKERS Present...
..... BETTER Arguments..... !!!

And Therefore RESPECT...
Is Something THEY GET... !!!!!

But NOT FROM These Plebs...
Whose Thoughts Bring DISTRESS...
To Them In Their Beds... !!!

And Cause Their Heads STRESS... !!!
Like Headz That Are... “ METAL “...

When They DROP Instrumentals...
Where Vessels Go MENTAL... !!!!

UNStaBLe... And UNABLE...
To Sit At Round Tables...
Where Rhymes Are Designed...
By Knights of DARK TYPES... !!!!!

Whose Mind’s ALWAYS PRIMED...
For THINKING To... SHINE... !!!

That BLINDS CRIMINAL Minds... !!!
CRIMINAL... “ Thinkers “...
Whose Blinkers Wear BLINKERS... ?

You See When You THINK...
You... DISMISS Weak Links...
And The Need To See Shrinks... !!!

Because You DEFINE...
A Mind LESS Inclined...
To Let Your Weak Side...
OVERRIDE How Your Life....
Is Shaped And Designed...

MY MIND Like Dark Knights...
Is... ALWAYS Inclined...
To Be On The RISE... !!!!!!

So DEFIES Those Whose Minds...
Hold Thoughts That Make STANDS...
Where IGNORANCE Lands... !!!

BELIEVE... I’m THAT MAN... !!!!!!
With BATMAN Type Vibes... !!!

My Thinking You’ll Find...
Delivers TIGHT Rhymes... !!!
That PROVE I DON’T LIE... !!!!!!

My Thinking DENIES...
DECEIT From It's Tries...
To POLLUTE My Mind...
With Thinking That’s TRITE... !!!!!

And Speaking In Riddles...
That TRY TO.... “ Belittle “....
Thinking That’s MIDDLED...
Like A Viv Richards SIX... !!!!!!

You See I FLIP SCRIPTS...
With Thinking Like THIS... !!!

And CLEARLY FLIP Heads...
When Thoughts I EXPRESS...
Leaves Their Thinking FOR DEAD... !!!

Cos’ My Thinking DIVESTS....
Like Bullets Do VESTS.... !!!!!!!!

With... HEAVY ARTILLERY... !!!
That RUPTURES CAPILLARIES... !!!!!

So You See My Mentality...
Will NOT COURT Insanity... !!!

And CALAMITIES GLADLY...
I BYPASS Like Bradley... !!!...
Cos’... LIMITLESS Thinking...
ENSURES That I’m WINNING... !!!
While Others Are SINNING... !!!

From End To BEGINNING...
So Are... Mentally Sinking............

INTO.... “ The Mire “....
of STRINGER BELLS... WIRED... !!!!!
To Be Soon RETIRED... !!!

Like... “ Spensers’ For Hire “... !!!!!!
When Facing The FIRE...
of Truth Cos’ They’re LIARS... !!!

Whose Thoughts DEFINE FAKE... !!!
Because of Their Ways...
And How They Relate... !!!!!

Through Things That They SAY...

It’s TRUE Nowadays... !!!!!
From OLD HEADS To YOUNG...
It’s CLEAR That Some Humans...
Have SADLY... Become...

A BREED Who Wear BLINKERS...
Who Are MOSTLY... NOT...

..... “ Thinkers “.....
We could probably do with a fresh breed of them right about now ....
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2018
.                     there's always a first...
what, with atomic blonde
style 1980s neon glam...
why bother downing
anything else -
     with what was east
and west berlin:
  the western terminal in
warsaw, where ukranians
leave, bagging smuggling
packages
           for L'viv...
      and the eastern Praha -
untouched -
by the **** counter
to the Warsaw Uprising -
   while the Soviets waited -
and waited, and waited -
while western Warsaw was
completely decimated -
as the saying goes:
   no brick lay on top of a brick;
ah...
  but the romance...
    mine esp.,
given the statue of sigismund -
      but a polish president,
should have never been buried
on the wawel mount...
    even at wilanów palace -
grief: is no excuse
for implementing autocracy!
           nein!
        ha ha... zee weißhaus -
so... what's the difference...
   between, it, and the belvedere?
no matter:
   here's to the first attempt
at "tasting" stolichnaya *****:
and the subsequent Cossack:
hoo-ah!
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2022
title: \scrap\
body:
/methods/
|in|
/to/
|and| \back\ - a 502 bad gateway bypass


well, you drink, get up, you drink some more,
you vacuum the house,
you correct the tomato soup your father has
started, blitz it up, sieve it,
add more Kashmiri chilly powder, sugar,
two chicken stock cubes: the sour cream will
be served individually... you'll cook the vermicelli
later on...
maybe it's just me: my parents instilled in me
a sense of dis-belonging to my fatherland...
since i left Poland when i was 8 years old...
they instilled in me the "argument":
what has Poland ever done for you?!
well... when the regime changed...
and my father married up... my mother's father:
my grandfather, was a known Communist Party
member, that's why he rose in rank
to become a foreman: brigadier in the metallurgy
industry... so after the regime change:
stigma... obviously...
what did Poland ever give me? erm... ah ha...
a childhood... my memory bank goes as far back
as being 4 years old... that's the expanse
of my consciousness... 4 years old... standing in
a darkened room... watching a football match...
Lothar Matthäus was my hero...
Germany was my favourite team...
          maybe because his surname sounded like
my name... maybe i'm just a reincarnated German...
even though: i don't believe in reincarnation...
an abhorring idea... i.e. there's only a fixed number
of souls... migrating from one zombie body to
another... but i'm thinking... Poland has always been
human traffic junction...
name them: Mongols, Huns, Goths, Vandals,
Russians, Swedes... there was even an elected Saxon
king... Scots... perhaps an ancient past has woken
up in me... "my" people once spanned the lands
between the Baltic Sea and the Black Sea...
"we" used to own Kiev...
        so my father left me when i was 4... he in turn
was abandoned by his parents: raised by his grandmother
and her second husband... so not really his grandfather...
first grey hairs at 18 taking care of him...
an alcoholic father who was a diligent worker
but who tended to sleep on park benches completely
out of it: my father would get the grunt and jokes
about his father: who abandoned him... blah blah...
oh, my father's a ****** when it comes to drinking...
a complete teetotaler... i haven't been so "lucky":
i just enjoy it too much... esp. when cooking or doing
household chores, gardening or... ahem: this...
doodling...
my mother left me when i was 6... we were all reunited
all the way in England when i was 8...
allegiance? well... perhaps if we weren't deported
when i was... starting year 7 at Canon Palmer R.C. School...
i had to lie that my grandmother died...
i just remember punching the wall... crying...
giving the Home Officers a death-stare when
he commented on me having a nice p.c. -
watching my father and mother get hand-cuffed...
we left two weeks later and i spent a year back in
Poland watching the 1998 world cup,
reading Umberto Eco, the Little Prince...
     was home-schooled... focused on the math...
again... thrown back among people who
didn't speak English... a bit like being thrown among
people who didn't speak any Polish...
ping-pong! even my grandmother remarked
that i was losing my capacity to speak my mother tongue...
all in all? i reckon it was a good thing...
since i doubled down in my "schizoid" bilingualism...
i wouldn't speak English in private... i still don't...
no chance am i going to play the atypical immigrant
plotline ranging from India to somewhere
in Africa where first generation immigrants
don't teach their 2nd generation immigrant children
their mother tongue: to fit in... to "integrate":
while those kids rebel against the whole establishment
and blow themselves up: why? out of spite for
their parents... unconsciously... they might think it's
against their host country... but it's unconsciously
against their parents... for not leaving them an open
avenue with a chance to return: should they wish...
to speak their mother tongue...
  but now i wake up... hmm... what did Poland ever
do for me? i remember being spat in the face...
by fellow countrymen as a young boy...
my grandfather's reputation as a Communist Party
member spread? who knows...
children are cruel... the change of guard was certainly
the pivotal reason why my parents immigrated...
fun facts from world war II...
it took **** Germany and Soviet Russia longer
to subdue Poland...
than it took **** Germany to subdue France...
i mean... France... Napoleon... a colonial superpower...
but that's how it goes... i'm sniffing gunpowder
on the doorstep... what does Poland owe me?
what do i owe, though? splendid first 8 years of my
life... childhood was more fun in Poland
than it was in England, there was a sense of community,
of belonging... all that shattered: disappeared in
England... even though... those weekends spent
with Peter Richardson and Kieran O'Mahoney...
yeah... no complaints there... we used to run round
5 storey car parks and play a game of spitting
down on people walking in...
   this one time i managed the impossible... my phlegm
landed on a guy's head... oh the joy we shared...
a security guard caught up with us: but we blagged
our way out of it...
whatever my feelings concerning Ukraine: historically...
the UPA genocides of Galicia...
and in general... but at least... we're taking in refugees...
women, children... unlike Western countries with
their superiority complex... we're better... because we've
been taking in... cultural enrichment gangs
of fighting age men... where was that?
                           Cologne? hmm... my my...
                      ref-u-gee?! i'm gleeful at the irony in all
of this... but i'm waking up thinking... **** me...
explosions as far west as L'viv... hmm... that's what?
2 hours from the border from the fatherland?
should i be thinking about conscripting?
      well... if i still didn't have a job... by now...
                         i'd be thinking about nothing else...
but it's on the cards...
       hard to imagine... but that there's a real chance
of me conscripting to go to war...
like: i would never celebrate war in poo'etry...
      venerate the warrior... i'm far too an existentialist
to give into the myths of war...
it's just new... there was never a prospect akin to this
ever... for me at least... but now it's on the cards...
would i pledge my allegiance to England
as more important than pledging my allegiance
to Poland? should the most horrible happen?
      being a dual-national... i have all the paperwork...
i have the tongue... the prospect of me settling
down with an English girl fizzled out completely with
Jeminah and that trio of storms that raged over
England days prior to the Russian invasion...
i translate that as a butterfly effect...
a broken heart in England and elsewhere... Russian troops
stomping their boots...
   and believe me: there are more deluded people out
there... western leftoids who are just a headache when
it comes to this subject matter...
for me... even contemplating conscripting in the ******
army feels... rather... surreal?
    but if one has to level a few КAЦAП heads
so be it...              whatever needs to be done...
etymologically, i think this intra-racial slur lent itself
from the word: KAPTUR... meaning hood...
   since... it would almost take forever for England
to be threatened and i still hold a little grudge
against England for being deported when i was a child...
2nd time: oh... all manner of legality...
but seeing how England started treating ethnic minorities
(even though i am, technically an ethnic minority,
ethnicity comes prior to race)
sort of ****** me off, a little, an itsy-bitsy bit...
esp. how these ethnic minorities started gloating
and boasting, blowing themselves up...
   eh... just an itsy-bitsy bit of me tells me:
i might just have to pledge allegiance to a country
i only spent 8 years in... and the summers with my
grandfather from the ages of 13 to... 21...
even though i'm not equipped with those people's
mentality... i don't know... i really don't...
but pandering to racial minorities: that are no longer
******* racial minorities...
whenever race comes to the fore and ethnicity is
ignored... it's a bit like telling a Welshman he's English...
just because they're both white...
****** me off... big time...
  you go to Africa and learn: the Kenyans are
importing timber from Ghana... well...
because a Kenyan is a Kenyan and a Ghanaian
is a Ghanaian... who gives a **** whether they part
of the same race... a Kenyan is not a Ghanaian
and vice versa... that's how you spot the real racists...
on the western front... child-speak...
roses are red, violets are blue...
                                   all felines... all canines are...
Alsatian shepherds... it's almost like an inability
to see a three-dimensional object in two-dimensions...
ha! that's exactly it! these people can't see
a cube on a piece of paper!
i'm still trying to figure out who subverted these people
to this level of nonsense...
the old Soviets?! the proper left, all those years ago?
you think?
i don't know... i'll let the ideas ferment a little...
see if there will be any Russian teasing with lead
on the Polish Ukrainian border...
                           but it's going to be hard...
i don't really have a tongue to defend...
          that fear of being made extinct by either Russian
or German in the years prior to independence of 1918
is long gone... given the ****** diaspora across
the world being as prominent as it were of the Hebrews...
i clearly don't have a ******'s mentality...
the only person of importance for me back there
is my grandmother... and that's about it...
fight for... a memory of a place from when i was 4 through
to 8? is it really worth fighting for?
i'm not going to move back there...
                            fickle... fickle little me...
i would have more concern to fight for England
than i would for Poland...
just like in the old days...
England states that it will make war against
Germany for having invaded...
yet no English soldier fought on that land...
while ****** soldiers were involved on English soil
in the air-force...
                     such are the days...
                          then again: i can't imagine fighting
for anything as obnoxious as LGBT+ rights either...
for the grand dodo project... no offence... sure... be gay...
have your kinks... but... fight for these rights?
as a man who has been stripped of the possibility
of starting a family based on the fickleness of women...
i'm more of a free agent of any idea i wish to will...
and will it to my advantage...
                oh it's a bit different, right? when it's on
your doorstep...
    can't exactly hoodwink it... can't put it to the back
of your mind... it's staring you right in the eyes
and you're not expected to blink...
                well... the cards are on the table...
                 thank god Ilona got engaged with me and later
broke the engagement off...
like i said at work... 2 weeks ago...
having a Russian girlfriend, right now... would be sort
of problematic...
yes, yes: NOT ALL RUSSIANS...
                         but... yeah... whatever.

— The End —