"wilhelm" poems
Dr. F. Wilhem discovered it by accident you see?
The first man downloaded was no longer man.
He suffered dearly until the plug was pulled,
and we started over again; with biologists.
Geneticists, Embryonticians, TransEugenecists,
all celebrated the new fast-growing body.
No more deaths at old age expiry, on battlefields.
for a price all would live eternally; eternity here.
It did not work. The bodies worked, the software recorded
but the people were insanely bi-polar. Insane in fact.
Until we switched the torso and genetics in tandem.
then somehow the surviving person retained all memories!
They were in fact; themselves! Just in a different gendered body?
Unfortunately for everyone this was a major psychological shock.
Unexplainable, sure, evolution took four billion years so...
...more time, more time, more experimentation is all we need.
Wilhelm changed it all.
When he added the shock,
added the <human> response,
turning the machines into
Humans.
They are truly A.I.
...verily human in fact.
Animal-ish, peaceful
then angry, terrible or
violent.
Artificially Intelligent;
Humans.
*"What good is it to change a person,
...merely into someone else?"* -Al Abd Azaz
*To see beneath the surface,
and know the ocean tydes.
To see beneath the surface,
and know the ocean tydes.
To see beneath the surface,
and know the ocean tydes.* *
Jan 21, 2018
Jan 21, 2018 at 12:14 AM UTC
dystopian dream filled with wilhelm screams, in his head, perfection is bursting at it's seems. I the adviser, broke a glass over his head, blood all over the handsome head, my knuckles as hard as stonehenge, and we made love?
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 5:43 PM UTC
there's a funny twist to this tale,
with feminism tackling ***********
and *** without consent,
both noble feats to tackle...
the male version? becoming
impregnated without consent -
jeez that sounds weird -
well the £110 an hour prostitutes
say they check themselves for
sex-related diseases regularly:
and i believe them. they also require
you to wear a rubber second ********
but it's just odd that you can a man,
and have no say in the matter
of your ****** partner being impregnated,
given that your ******** is about
an inch long, and when pulled back
your ******* head turns purple
because of the constraints, so a ******
isn't really that much of a discomfort...
but still she insists... *** in me, *** in...
white lies and anti-contraceptive pills...
so how about strawberry...
i don't mind, my ***** gagging with the ********
pulled back, but hey, ******* with ********
is so much more pleasurable than without
it... i know, i have the capacity.
and indeed i do like Freud, his theory
of the compound Madonna-Whore "complex"
is true... question is, is it expressed by
a woman, or by man? i'm guessing a woman
since Freud covered men as Wilhelm Oedipus Rex...
and i went straight down the hyphenated middle...
Madonna O Madonna why are you
in need to talk about ***
and the ***** get's them every time,
no talk, i know why i paid for consent,
she knows i paid for consent, even if she's not
aroused she uses skin-cream to oil up
so penetrating her won't hurt... while i'm not
a universal stunner... but i still don't
understand why a girl would think there's
no opposite of **** / *** without consent...
i.e. forcing a fatherhood on you on the sly...
that's the opposite of **** she thinks you're
so perfect because she's in her teens and she just
experienced the diversity of the world
and boom, you're trustworthy about her promise
to be on anti-contraceptive pills (she isn't),
you can use a ****** because your ********
is too tight... and then you get a really bad Kafkaesque
theme for the rest of your life.
May 10, 2016
May 10, 2016 at 6:57 PM UTC
well, the Oedipal resurrection is a real
chestnut, what a spectrum!
at one end Edward Gein (the acid)
via 7 of pH scaling
and at the other Kaiser Wilhelm (the alkali),
and all those madmen in between,
what traffic! well, someone has to be sick
for someone else to earn wages, ha ha!
testicles in Tchaikovsky's nutcracker,
enter Santa Clause in soprano singing:
** ** ** that's what happens with Oedipus
resurrected, why not resurrect Hercules?
you sick or something? they rather resurrect
Oedipus than Christ to create the Antichrist...
the sickness spreads.
May 14, 2016
May 14, 2016 at 9:59 PM UTC
The movie speaks
In silence screams
That encapsulates the feeling of the moment.
A black and white
Scene plays out
And I see the sorrow pour.
The reflection of the many lives that costed during
The era
Reflects on the black and white dots
That move around on my screen.
Wilhelm.
******
Mussolini.
Gallipoli.
The Somme.
It's funny how they don't speak
But the black and white dots that
Dance
And flickers on my screen,
Tells the unfortunate story
Of the contextual history
That lies behind,
The black and white dots that
Strafes on my screen.
Jan 27, 2017
Jan 27, 2017 at 3:14 PM UTC
“She cannot live forever!”
We told each other more than once.
Still, she had all the Deutschmarks
and to her I was a dunce..
My wife and I were servant/slaves
to her every wish and whim.
It was just after the Armistice
that she ”allowed” us move in.
Germany was a hungry place
As Weimar came into being
What happened after Wilhelm fled,
few could claim to have foreseen.
No, she never spoiled us,
her grandson and his mate.
I cut wood, my wife drew water
For that shriveled old ingrate.
Other than a pittance
and an attic bed of straw
she gave neither thanks nor praise
to her only heirs at law.
Thank Gott, the morning finally dawned
we didn’t hear her ring her bell.
In sleep she had departed
to Heaven or , likely, Hell.
We hugged each other gleefully.
Our servitude was done.
We were rich with Deutschmarks!
The year was Nineteen twenty one.
Jun 16, 2013
Jun 16, 2013 at 11:33 AM UTC
*and some animals didn't evolve, because they
thought higher things of the dream-world,
say bonsai felines, koalas, sloths, having
evolved we shouldn't have allowed a concern
for dreams, after all, there was mining to do,
wheat to harvest, concern for dreams obstructed
certain thing: firstly a privilege of the rich,
and when stated by someone of lesser "rank",
completely disregarded; trying to find the oedipus
but unable to find him: guten tag kaiser, wilhelm das zweite!*
i'd still prefer the laziness
of the diet of a panda
rather than complicating things
with food restaurant critics
and fussy eaters, i.e.:
eat this, or starve, your choice.
Mar 11, 2016
Mar 11, 2016 at 10:05 PM UTC
Ascot - Race Course 1910-20 by daib0
King Edward the Seventh,
was dead.
With him, hope died also, tis said.
At Ascot later that year
his mistresses, I hear,
all favored blacks over reds.
Black hats with black feathers
they wore
in mourning for Bertie, they swore.
Black dresses, of course
for their dear love, now lost,
who, often, had honored their beds.
King Edward the Seventh,
was dead.
With him, hope died also, tis said.
In uncertain blue twilight
Dark shadows were spawned
as the glow from the
lamp lights had fled
Kaiser Wilhelm now free
of restraint from
his Uncle Bertie
with reckless abandon
chose war.
Nov 16, 2011
Nov 16, 2011 at 10:24 PM UTC
Going to fix up my homes under the sycamore tree
going camping
tent tramping
and all I will see are the whirlygigs that helicopter
propped up in my sleeping bag
watching the canvas sag
like life
it's an awful drag and I am gone
camping.
'Oh my giddy aunt' whose name was Matilda,
once met the Kaiser,
by the side of the Danube.
No proof,
no Youtube but I believed her and Herr Kaiser had a little thing going by the river flowing out to the sea.
Which does not help me under the sycamore tree and the more that I see the less I'm intent on staying in a tent with a roof that is sagging,
I'm dragging my **** outa here
and you guessed it
,no proof
no Youtube
the truth.
May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 8:19 PM UTC
Mach my words, that time travel aye
foresee (rather than being
at a stand still, nee frozen
analogous to cry
oh ja hen nicks, or more particularly
going backwards)
this chap doth espy
great breakthroughs,
asper similar advances this guy
i.e. myself witnesses quantum leaps I
learn (reading The University Of Penn Gazette)
the Burmese doctoral
engineering student Kai
Sir Von Wilhelm Harris
made profound advances within
advanced combined research
laboratory of rocket surgery
and brain science set my
mouth ajar
(with rivulets of drool spilling forth)
constructing a simple
to assemble gizmo (avail able
common household materials
rendered unto YouTube), and/or Cable
Comcast, Fios, Infosys, et cetera
which accidental discovery
automatically codified feign
top secret "FAKE" news to enable
boot (simply for formality sake)
code named Clark Gable
yet in reality (a faux veil of secrecy)
to con Vince sing lee
foster an inimitable
mystique, button truth
for general public to unzip noble
no red bull) knowable
handy escape to past or future
and essentially unlocked laudable
simple "household solution"
to become the latest craze
(synonymous with an ****** - manageable
minus addiction, conviction,
and excruciation viz zit operable
via needle marks of the masses
within a fortnight necessary
supplies sans quantifiable
while Das Donald Trump
could enact legislation satisfiable
knowing majority being
totally tubularly oblivious unalterable
measures permanently infringing on inalienable
rights such as life, liberty
and the pursuit of winnable pacification.
Mar 23, 2018
Mar 23, 2018 at 2:20 AM UTC
as albums go...
kiss me kiss me kiss me
will always outrank
disintegration:
...show me show me
show me how you do that trick
the one that makes me scream he said
the one that makes me laugh he said
and threw his arms around my neck
show me how you do it
and i promise you i promise that
i'll run away with you...
i was somehow always the big boy
preferring depeche mode...
but then again,,, the vampires were out,
along with the Edwards...
and... the game was played...
would have been easier asking queen Vic
to eat a ******* mango...
had Bertie scolded his son's
stutter...
maybe then Wilhelm would not have
sent the Zeppelins...
but then again...
what a boring London without
the Blitzkrieg revisionism!
a love being love,
yet a love, most painful -
like lip-reading a mouth of a nurse
while she allowed me to spectate her
talking...
on the tube to her place
of work...
lip-reading...
mouth open, penning,
death ears...
i once heard an advice...
can't get a girlfriend in england?
travel to India...
i have a shortcut...
Manchester, Liverpool,
or Newcastle...
as far as i am concerned,
the English girls up there
are no chasing Saudi Sheikhs...
and aren't too keen on
Germans, either...
might test my luck...
i'll wait for my parents
to die...
then i'll head to t he north of England
and express my fondest
thank you, outside of
Goa or Gujarat;
i'll keep the curry recipe,
thank you, very, much.
i always belonged in the north...
southern English galls were
always supposedly gold digging...
my parents die...
i'll travel north...
and have me a treat of a
northern granny to bore,
and become boorish with...
not very unlike pears or
apples...
english women?
sour grapes in the home counties surrounding
London and encompassing Bristol..
come the north?
fireworks in winter!
Sep 5, 2018
Sep 5, 2018 at 9:16 PM UTC
Dalya sleeps
in her sleeping bag
on the other side
of the tent.
I lay awake
thinking on the day
the visit
to the Van Gogh
museum.
The meal
in the restaurant.
Our conversation
on art and philosophy
and the psychology
of Wilhelm *****
Late night revellers
walk through
the base camp.
The rock music
from the loudspeakers
has ceased
and a peace
like deep fog
settles over us.
Someone drunkenly
sings going by.
When we made love
I noticed a mole
on her inner thigh.
I kissed it
for luck.
Tomorrow we make
the journey home
and each go
our separate way
our journey
in reverse
a fond farewell.
Seems an age
since we first met
that first day at Dover
awkwardly gazing
about us
waiting for
the minibus
to pick us up
to rover Europe's
camp-sites
and see the cities.
Keep in touch
she said
but I don't suppose
we will.
We live too far apart
to make it last.
A few late night
wanderers go by
into the night.
She sleeps peaceful
over there
like a child
without worries
or care.
Apr 27, 2017
Apr 27, 2017 at 2:57 AM UTC
The tyrant built his tower tall,
set straight to work a-cutting through
the golden threads that join us all
to hoard them in his mental zoo.
Its bricks were baked of stolen clay
in his kleptocratic kilns’ cracked moulds.
Their stench of sulfurous yellow stays
as mockery of our cords of gold.
He covets the gleaming ties we share
to gild the cavern in his tower.
The pit that’s fed with his charm’s snares
cannot be sated with this gold of ours.
His true name is as it ever stayed,
be it Xerxes, or Julius, or Wilhelm, or Don,
this ******* hybrid of hubris and hate,
who feeds on sycophantic fawns.
But despots have their own red thread,
a truth of iron wrought long before:
Each one will end encased in lead,
entombed beneath time’s deepening ****
The tower topples, his memory fades.
He takes his place with Hades’ shades.
Nov 12, 2024
Nov 12, 2024 at 9:20 AM UTC
well, it's better than starring at a brick wall or the never changing constellations, so d'uh and a doughnut too, if you really mind elocution lessons and the term procrastination as alternative.
i don't even know why i use the internet,
don't even know why i'm on here,
**** i don't need encouragement or
a false sense of self-esteem readied for
a Narcissus complex becoming more and more
intricate opposing the Oedipus complex
attracting only a Wilhelm's worth of analysis...
seriously... the selfie matters these days!
i still don't why people think i need
a pillow or a compliment when i write something down;
oh really, that was you in the forest
nearing midnight? i thought so... pizza and a binge
of back-to-back series of gnome with thrombosis.
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 6:16 PM UTC
palyak...
gwoopi:
palyak...
pierdu
wart piotr,
lieb pavel!
palyak:
gwoopi
palyak!
czekoor!
czaj!
jemu
zwe, cykor!
zwe! gagarin!
zwe! kitaj!
kitajec!
pan szamb!
ruszkin puszkin!
zwajce pijajce!
szto?! szu szu
szarania!
moskiw!
bamboula:
bratek bambo!
ukrajnin: bohun!
sto stokortek
nad grobem:
KACAP!
ка'тсап!
HORONWIEG
zgranego
młota i kilofa!
oj barket:
ty raz jeszcze
będziesz
żegnać glebę:
jak chleb!
gryź ty:
tą garść piachu,
na twój ząb
jak modlitwe
na swój zór!
i mów mi:
słotka,
miękka bółeczka!
kajzerka!
niby:
wilhelm kaiserschuh
tap tap...
tippentanzen...
mów mi że to tak!
jak zawsze:
warta propaganda.
Sep 4, 2017
Sep 4, 2017 at 9:40 PM UTC
“We should like Nature to go no further; we should like it to be finite, like our mind; but this is to ignore the greatness and majesty of the Author of things.”
—Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz, 1715
<>
**for my dear friends who amply supply
pictures of the infinity of nature
daily**
<>
the comfort food of your
living-loving-eyeshot
screenings of moments preservations of
the delicate and the roughened,
the mystical and magical of
our creative globe’s ad and mis
ventures,
oft far from the paths of human ruination
trafficking
these photos
the first of the day,
signaling white smoke rising or
the full fledged regular milky
insertion photographic
into the mine daily awakening
of the
*purpled majesty of the world
when ******* pleasure of
first coffees of life’s days*
and how it pleases me,
that there is no
conceptual conceivable,
that there will not be an
finishing enthralling,
a last never-before-witnessed
visionary submission
without
a never finite ending to this
infinite processional!
thus no need to say with
them ordinary wordy pleas of/to:
“keep them coming,”
for by your read acknowledgement of
this here poem,
you have cosigned this
contractual
o b l i g a t i o n
and I say
an ecstatic
Thank You
Nov 17, 2024
Nov 17, 2024 at 7:48 AM UTC
Deep in a trench lay the boys in the grey
Their noses can’t smell, their guns are close
As they fight for old Wilhelm
Their helmets of steel and their great coats, caked in mud
A lone crow caws above the field as the mortars ring out
Far to the east, soldiers fight a beast
The one head of a two headed Eagle and the Bear
An Ancient empire, crumbling and sick, face a new one young but inexperienced
In the end, at bakhmach the eagle bested the bear
But to the west a lion and a hog faced the second eagle head
The Kaisers Fury was unholy, and soon he would bring down the british folly
And with but a swing of his hand he brought about the kaiserschlacht
A million men marched from the bears fields into the roosters meadow
And what stood in their way was two nations crippled and alone, and another sailing across the sea
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 11:42 AM UTC
I'm in town
And we need to talk
'Meet me in the gardens
Where Wilhelm used to
Walk with die Kaiserin'
She told me that she
Got married last September
To some hotshot politician
(People say he's the future
Prime Minister)
And that there's
A baby girl on the way
And how they're moving
Back to London to
Start a family
To which I politely
Congratulated her
She took a deep breath:
'We should have
Run away to my father's
House in the Spanish Jàvea
When we had the chance'
'Yes, maybe we should've
But it doesn't matter now'
Jun 5, 2025
Jun 5, 2025 at 3:07 PM UTC
yeah, imagine that,
walking into a room with 20+
strangers eager to numb-your-prostate...
li'ill ol' me, mind you,
walked into a brothel with 10+
prostitutes and lazily said:
can one of your girls pick...
then tha taboo quote came out
from the most mouthy one
of them: you can't do that!
that's against our dogma!
fine! you'll do, since you're so
******* mouthy...
oh the freudian madonna-complex
is real... very real...
you go to a brothel:
you know what you're getting...
and you know what the end is...
how can man ever retrieve his
objectivity when there's
the existence of an object
(money) that morphs subjectivity?
one man finds wealth in being poor,
another man finds poverty
in being wealthy...
huh?
but the madonna-whore
complex ought to be the currently
discussed zeitgeist...
the oedipus complex is so
20th century, so wilhelm ii...
freud has to evolve beyond
the oedipus complex, and into his
lesser known "space-time"
madonna-whiore complex -
otherwise? i'll discredit him
through & through!
oh you think it's funny?
that i can get an ********
no problem with a ********** -
but at the same time have
trouble getting an ********
with a "sanitation" worker of
the ethos of ***
common women
don't turn me on...
they're boring
as **** to me... but with prostitutes?
let's just say that it
has never been a 1986 challenger
or a 1968 apollo 6 attempt
at "getting *****
oh freud is alive and kickin'
but not in the current frame of
being worth interpreting -
oedipus died with wilhelm ii...
given the current post-feminist
deconstructionism of the male psyche
using the... JESUS!...
of the nag hammadi library...
well... we're right on time with
the 20 clowns packed into a mini-cooper
and the grand: circus elephants
blowing-up balloons show!
ta(h) da(h)!
Jul 29, 2017
Jul 29, 2017 at 10:04 AM UTC