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Party zone


Johnny' hi everyone and welcome to party zone where we celebrate the weeks activities like the alligator surprising the residents of a national park and the big bash coming to an end next week
And the Tamworth country music festival has started
And now here is Tommy the
Feline with a drinking song

I would love to get drunk with
Jsckson because he is a fun guy
We would crack open a coldie
And say to each other
Getting drunk like this is so much fun
The drink we choose is beer
Cause it makes us feel so great
And we get do drunk and we arrive home after half past 8
In the morning
And here is my next song called
Working class man
Working hard to make a living
And getting drunk every night
Drinks like tooheys and XXXX
And a vb yeah it makes you feel like a hooligan
Wooo woooo woooo woooo
Beer makes me a working class man
You see a person who doesn't drink is a little person
And needs to learn s lot
About how to drink the
Whole thing down
Without Ronny letting out a big frown
I will crack open a nice beer
Right in his face
Woooo woooo woooo woooo
Beer makes you a working class man
Johnny' ok now it is time to see
Tom tickle
Tom
I drink a lot of beer and we have a lot of fun
You see anyone who says tor kick conservos up the ***
How are you going mate
I will say to him
Saying his is a very conservative dude and hates our partying ways
You just say ******* conservos
Get out of this town  
Please leave me be
So I can party right up against your frown
I drink a lot of beer
And I have fun
Johnny'. Thanks tommy and now that is time to finish up
And see you next week
Bunhead17 Nov 2013
Intro: 2Pac

There's gon' be some stuff you gon' see
that's gon' make it hard to smile in the future.
But through whatever you see,
through all the rain and the pain,
you gotta keep your sense of humor.
You gotta be able to smile through all this *******.
Remember that.
Mmm, yeah.
Keep ya head up.Yeah.

Verse One: 2Pac

Our lifestyles be close captioned
addicted to fatal attractions
Pictures of actions be played back
in the midst of mashin'
No fairy tales for this young black male
Some see me stranded in this land of hell, jail, and crack sales
Hustlin' and heart be a ***** culture
or the repercutions while bustin' on backstabbin' vultures
Sellin' my soul for material wishes, fast cars and *******
Wishin' I live my life a legend, immortalized in pictures
Why shed tears? Save your sympathy
My childhood years were spent buryin' my peers in the cemetary
Here's a message to the newborns, waitin' to breathe
If you believe then you can achieve
Just look at me
Against all odds, though life is hard we carry on
Livin' in the projects, broke with no lights on
To all the seeds that follow me
protect your essence
Born with less, but you still precious
Just smile for me now

Chours: Johnny P, 2Pac

Smiiiiiile for me , won't you smile (smile for me now)
Just smiiiile (smile), smile for me
(What cha lookin' all sad for, ***** you black, smile for me now)
Smiiiiiile for me (***** you ain't got nothin' to be worried about)
Won't you smile (no doubt, smile for me now) just smiiiiile
(And the next generation)

Verse Two: Scarface

Now as I open up my story
with the blaze a your blunts
And you can picture thoughts slowly
up on phrases I wrote
And I can walk you through the days that I done
I often wish that I could save everyone
but I'm a dreamer
Have you ever seen a ***** who was strong in the game
overlookin' his tomorrows and they finally came?
Look back on childhood memories and I'm still feelin' the pain
Turnin' circles in my life came to dealin' *******
To many hassles in my local life, survivin' the strain
And a man without a focus, life could drive him insane
Stuck inside a ghetto fantasy hopin' it'd change
But when I focus on reality we broke and in chains
Had a dream of livin' wealthy and makin' it big
And after all my momma's thankin' God for blessin' the child
All my momma gots to do now is collect it and smile
Smile

Chorus (without 2pac)

Verse Three: 2Pac

**** the world as we ???? and witness furious speeds
of nasty questions keep us all stressin', curious G's
Backstabbed and bleedin', ******' thoughts laced with ****
Learnin', duckin' stray shots, bullets be hot, they burnin'
Inhalin' sherm smoke, visualized the flames
Will I be smothered by my own pain?
Strange whispers, cowards conversate, so quick to dis us
Takin' pictures for the feds, and desperate hopes they'd get us
Hit us off, give us plenty centuries, forgive my sins
Since I ain't in many penitenturies the best revenge is **** friends
We military minded soldiers, bustin' shots blindly
Tryin' to find Jehovah to help me
Somebody save me
Lost and crazy, scared to drop a seed hopin' I ain't cursed my babies
Maybe now ****** feel me now, picture my pain
embrace my words make the world change
And still I smile *****

(Scarface talking)

And now a moment of silence, let us pray
And as you journey into outerspace
may the angels help to lead the way
shine up on your soul to keep you safe
And all the homies that done passed away
They there to greet you as you pass the gates
And as you headed to the tunnel's light
I hope it leads to eternal life
We say the prayers for our homie 'Pac
Smile

(Smile for me)
(All ya need to do is smile)
(Woooo smile for me)
(Come on smile for me)
R.I.P : (2pac) Tupac Shakur. #bandanna and nose ring  
the lyrics to "Smile" by Tupac.
Jade Musso Jan 2014
Which color would you like?

Blue makes me tired
Yellow makes me wired
Pink makes me ... whaaaaaaat?

Green makes me swirly
Orange makes me girly
Teal makes me WOOOO WOOO WOOOO

None fit the part
None want to play
None will make me go far away
Tysheanna Mar 2017
Wait a minute baby can you tell me? Promise you'll be honest and that you tell me the truth about everything you feeling even if it hurts me tell me now if you can i just want to know why you can't love me the way I need to be love? Boy i just want to understand and I need to understand is it the way I wear my hair or the way I dress or its cause you want a girl with a big *****? Boy keep it real with me why won't you love me the way I need to be love boy my heart keeps crying cause I need to feel love boy tell me tell me this is it something wrong with me? It's cause I keep trying to tell you how I feel. Boy I starting to hate the morning cause I know what they bring you get up anf take a shower in no time you're leaving and I know it sounds so so selfish but I can't help but think that if you knew how much I need you'd stay you just don't understand I even hate goodbye I hate these tears in my eyes I even hate myself for the way I feel about you everytime I've had enough of wishing that you were around me everyday and every night its to much that I starting to hate love yeah I said I'm starting to hate love woooo woooo I even hate your phone calls in the middle of the day cause all it do is remind me that my baby is so far away it drives me crazy baby ans I know its hard for you to understand what I'm saying I guess I just dont want to feel this along(I can't help it) everytime you walk out the door I start missing you (I can't help it no) wish I didn't need you this much(I can't help it) but I just love hard and I hate it.
This is something I'm going thru right now and how I'm am feeling through my relationship hopefully it get better. If you read it please let me know what you think about it
Raj Arumugam Sep 2012
at last, I’m dead, now a light ghost in the dark
an energetic, leaping ghost
and I’ve got abundant hair
and it’s always shiny and radiant

over here
one never worries about
eggs and shampoo, and making such concoctions
And it feels always light
airy, floating at will, gliding with ease
And one lifts off into the air
and one flies (I don’t need to worry
about ground control,
and foul weather is fine with me)
And I never worry about clothes
it’s always the same, and they stay fresh and smooth
all night long, all hauntings along
- Woooo! Woooo! Hooooo! Heeeeettrrrr! -
And nails - wow! Do they grow!
and they take care of themselves
and you don’t need those pesky, nosy manicurists!
But the best – oh – the best – is the jump up into the air
and to descend, to pounce so effortlessly
on unsuspecting males
right in the darkest of nights
to pounce on them, as it seems, from nowhere
from up, up, up ever so light from high in the air
and with my ghostly touch
to feel them shrink in their pants
- Ha, ha, hooooo! Heeeeettrrrr! -
and to bite off their you-know-what –
a fruitful and eventful end to the night…
they taste like cucumbers,
with water, minerals and fibre and all…
- OOOOObbooo…TooTooo! Heeeeettrrrr! -
- ah, the joys of being a female ghost –
it is light revenge on those men of dark hearts
poem based on artwork "yurei (ghost)"  by Katsushika Hokusai (葛飾 北斎?, ?October 31, 1760 – May 10, 1849)
Micheal Wolf Feb 2013
Woooo Woooo
We screamed as kids
Cowboys and Indians
Cops and robbers
We progressed to war
Endemic it seems from tv
One of us German one English
Innocence in play yet failed
We always portray one good one bad
No word to what made that happen
North and south went to war
North won but what if they hadn't??
Or what if the **** army had conquered
Well all considered and bewildered
I'm playing dollies and house with my little girl
julia denham Jul 2013
You walked in through the door, your left leg stepping first over the dusty, wooden door frame. You smiled, almost nervously, but it was intriguing the way you dealt with this seemingly awkward situation. You peered down at your worn out, deep blue jeans, torn at the knees, slipping your hands into your pockets peering up at me.

There I was, practically a piece of furniture in the living room of your mind. I felt I'd been there so long that I knew everything there was to know, every painting hung, every window and their matching curtains, the faded light green rug placed on the squeaky floor boards, every cob web and every occasional butterfly that fluttered in and out. It was strange, knowing so much about you both repelled me and attracted me to you, in a way unexplainable. There had to be more to you. There had to be a reason you loved to watch the news over and over again, and a reason you didn't like sugar in your coffee and a reason you turned up at my door that summer afternoon. A reason for my outrageous feelings. I remember how the warm air played with the stray bits of your light brown hair and how your eyebrows raised as you smiled, resembling the way shoulders shrug. They say that sometimes you can actually feel your heart breaking. Well, when our eyes met, mine seemed to break in half and fix itself perfectly, simultaneously. Emotions in slow motion, yet still all to fast to understand.  I had to keep it together as it fell apart. I had to forgive myself for letting myself love you, whatever 'love' was.  

I wondered, earlier that morning, when I walked past the nearby florist store, what life and death was. What the terms 'life' and 'death' actually meant. How all those beautiful flowers were cut just as they were at their bloom; killed when they were most beautiful. I thought perhaps this might be the same for humans, but then shoved the thought of such demanding topics into a little steel chest in the back of my brain, conveniently placed deep under the part where all the happy thoughts are filed in neat metal cabinets. I felt as though I was drowning in hopelessness, as though I was enclosed in some sort of night club, surrounded with smiling faces and drunken comments and 'woooo's and lofty eyes, as though the frivolous party atmosphere was consuming every inch of my sanity. I wished so bad I could be as absent minded as them. I wished I didn't have the overwhelming need to find more. There had to be more. More than alcohol, and straightened hair, and *** and money, more than education and marriage, more than tanned skin, more than music, more than fake 'hello's and the meaningless exchange of numbers between two strangers. One thing, though, that I would often consider was how strangers were the most beautiful of things. They are like little mysterious secrets. Strangers could be whatever you wanted them to be. One could fall in love with a stranger. The ideas and fantasies are so dreadfully captivating, that one can get so easily attached. Attached to something, someone, who doesn't actually exist. These bedazzled ideas that one constructs, designs and creates around these unknown people is so quickly broken as one gets to know them. I never wanted to get to know anyone after getting to know you. I decided that afternoon that I'd rather love strangers, I'd rather invest myself in silly, pretentious ideas of people, than loving actual, real people. Getting to know someone is just as much exciting as it is suspenseful and disappointing, it's awful because the more you know; the less there is to know, and you keep learning and learning until one day, simply, there seems nothing left to learn. You come to a solid wall when you were expecting a big bright door.
This is just me fooling around at 3 am.
She moved away from me
And that was alright
Hey pretty woman
I hope I didn't give you a fright
its  been a long time since my eyes
laid upon such a sight.

She began to yell
And  that was alright
Ha! pretty woman
like a hound you howl!
WOOOOO a WOOOO
Now shush woman, don't be foul

She ran away
And that was alright
Huh, pretty woman
you weren't the only one
who thought could get away
before I had my fun today.
5/31/14
ArturVRivunov Oct 2011
Jumped into river of sorrow. . Landed myself beside tomorrow. .island
consider this world a heaven for it is what we see. . . . . .
will be all that we all remember. . .
generations passing on and building music with our sounds. .
stringing out to another. . as endless it may be, there’s never intention to bother
like bodies, minds, and hearts stepping around. . .
Fusing into a subtle tune. . . ., that makes the sense of one. .
Where anything is but happy feeling no less then weight of ton. .
For in my time there was and is the only one. . lady life. . .

I am a circumstance that but is not understood. .
What you think of image i am being,
when question is simply happiness and my way of life. . .

What hell this riding ****. .
Mind your business,  loompampa head. .
Life's pleasant knowing it's part of it. .

You think I got time for some thirty minutes. .
Of course I do. .
Because life. . .  my pace. . . . is best to stay that way. . .

unpredictable but sound . . Strung to find and meet. . all recluse stuck on beat. . . .
Likewise no need repeat impartial worries. . .

i stand and choosing to be the way I am, for if to start someone's business. . aiding , I isn’t ******* relating. . . .
not part my life of worry to masses. . .except to aid it wordly. .
with my soul and **** humanity came close to killing. . . that’s why I’m on this mic spilling. . .
To put in perspective the best my eyes do see. . .
and how they see, im blessed, to train me so. . .to feel the feeling of life's every blow
I came to this place with measure of worries. . .toiling in stories. .
now I am recluse feeling no worries. . . .

Jumped into a river of sorrow. . . .landed myself on land of today. . . ai. . .******* no way. . .
For now it’s only place I’ll keep my feet planted to stay. . . . .even as many of you haters want me to sway

Some say ******* no way. . .always stepping in crowd. . . the otherway. . .
In my future.
clear and early where all is smiling faces. . .giving each other pure embraces. . . .
to some unrealistic. . .so as to why
Some mazza fuckas do is speak from darkest of corners. . .talking ****
to each other. . . .
like one to and from the other. . .
Remorsing to boring tempers. .All just wearing your pampers. . thinking
behid.

If this hits you so hard. . Let me know and I’ll find another way to start. . .
All you mazza fuckas do is creep from darkest of corners. . .
Tending to energy far over your heads. . .always speaking down on some others. .around you. . . .

But around me, stick until your out of your breath. .
Perhaps with some others, there’s the lack of conversing because their stuck in their heads. . .

I speak from the heart when I say to you so. . .
In reason you passing such energy is nothing woooo terrific. . .
stanky breath
I ******* don't hate it. . But rather not appreciate it. . .for with my stanky breath
i push with something rather then your patience. . .


with every nation involved. . . .
i solved the problem of me,
the passion in ration of me. .
Who i am in slightest of spirit. .as humanly possible

Who is you I see. .

No matter how you blink,
how you think,
how long it takes you to evoke the senses of you, . .
You are in my sights a beautiful star. .
together we can go far. . .
Even being afar. . .ill walk to you without my car. . .
From A to A, memory. . . . From A to M family, not that far. . . .
[After C Heaven Start]
Never the less, my hands across my breast. . .flat as flat iron. . .
.I am made of iron. . . .biches always blarring their sirens. . .for what reasons. . .respiring in deep ****. . .for the day it’s what they desiren’

Killing time with  cigarettes. . . .since I was 6. . .******* biches that made me start. . . .I wish life would just make you smell it’s ****. . . . .
And find the purest of heart. . . then dwelling in smells. . .from procreated hells. . . .
Please be considerate, ***** words put together, make beautiful poetry. It is not to offend anyone in regards to being good souls, it is to distinguish our intuition of why we have hate for nonsense.
Donna Oct 2017
Today I'm a ghost
I am wearing a white bed sheet
With two cut out eyes
I looked in mirror
And went woooo
And the mirror
Woooo back at me!
It took me by surprise
And I felt a little confused
So I wooooo again
again and again
And the mirror woooo back at me!
So instead I giggled
I laugh so much I blew
the bed sheet off me
And then I saw me
And I went hi
And the mirror said hi back
I rolled my eyes
And I got a pen
And drawed a big balloon
Filled with tiny stars
Then I put the bed sheet on
And went wooooo again
And the balloon popped
And all the stars
Sprinkled down like glitter
And I smiled
And smiled
And smiled
:) just writing whatever flows out of me x
Danny Valdez Jan 2012
Flat broke.
Eleven bucks to my name.
But I didn't care
I was gonna get a pack of smokes
and a burrito anyways.
A guy's gotta live sometime.
Walking past the dirt lot
behind the gas station
I spotted a ten dollar bill
smiling up at me from the dirt & rocks.
I snatched it up
and ran with it held up in the air.
"Woooo hoooo!" I hollered.
Running & skipping
all the way to Losbeto's.
Walking back
a bean & cheese in my hand
smokes rolled up in my shirt sleeve
a ****-eating grin on my face.
Passing the dirt lot again
there was a guy with his head down
looking for something in the dirt.
"Ya lose something?" I asked.
"Yeah....thirty ******' bucks man. A ten and a twenty."
"****, that *****." I said, feeling a bit bad.
"Can I get a cigarette?" He asked, pointing to the rolled up pack in my sleeve.
"Sure." I said, pulling a Pall Mall and handing it to him.
"Thanks."
"Don't mention it."
I didn't normally *** smokes
to people I didn't know.
But
I had to.
I mean, he paid for em'.
Now every time I walk by that dirt lot
I find myself scanning the ground
looking for that missing twenty.
Every time.
Poetic T Nov 2015
They stared down upon high, glancing in
Trepidation at what was slowly ebbing
Forward, not a snail of a pace but slowing
To that of a sloth, mundane consequences
Where the topic of the day.

What would two of undue taste relish in these
moments of flickering thoughts on what waited
Edging forward to an unseen fate but in their
Gawking  at what was time counting down to a
Conclusion that was abiding its momentary time.

"I do hate this moment,

"What moment begrudges you at the crossroads,

"Its just watching it slop off into prominent areas,

"Never regress what will undoubtedly happen,

"But my taste buds ponder the relishing aroma of what awaits,

They as would be voyeurs of this collapse of will,
Heeding their pace of what is happening. And upon
Sullen branches they pincer upon gladly. Dead longer
Than their birth, but granting views of otherwise,
Winged visions from high above.

"Just a little nick, to ebb away spirit,

"Yes let us bleed upon the ground,

"Really??

"Why thoughts peruse me of this endeavour, and consequences,

"What ramifications would be birthed from actions?
"Nothing but a time indulged must quicker on us,

Fleeting droplets would adhere to the winds gestures,
"Carnivorous undertakers would inhale and smile,

"Do you understand what I imply on your thoughts,

"Yes undue wanting's of our lingering dinner,
"Unjust would this be upon our delicate waiting,

So they gathered upon a the caked ground, speaking
Side by side as their dinner slowly moved on, contemplating
That ever closer moment when breath would leave and
waiting would be done. But night fell and so curled up
Did their feast stop still upon cooling ground shivering.

"Should I degrees  that we wait no longer,
"Its stopped moving, just a nibble is all one wants,

"Thoughts contemplate this endeavour as rumbling is heard,
"Not of the wind or ground but my stomachs hunger aches,

So one approached wings flapping silently in the desert air,
A gust catches as claws capture the ground and stills himself.
"Whoops,
The other shakes his head at his friends near flight into nights
Abyss only to edge ever closer to their midnight feast.
He gently grabs fingers and squeezes pressure ever so lightly.
Momentary pleasure is interrupted by a sudden shift.

"O my god it just chipped my beak,

"You impetus fool I told you to heed the voice below,

Just then, without due warning an arm flared in all
Directions as if life had breathed anew and feathers
Leap in joyous freedom into the clinging air.
Noises of man and bird filled the twilights moon.  
Then as hands gripped tightly upon a beaconing
Throat preoccupying breath talons played with
Subtle tones of skin. opening them up to the waiting
Floor below and it drank so very well,

"I...,
"Think,
"I've,
"Woooo,

And with that a head now being where it shouldn't be.
That which had crawled also a last breath did escape.
As a river of life ran past my claws soaking the earth
In its need for substance. The night was still and death
Had spoken angered torment.

"Well I have never had a friend for dinner,
"Don't give me those dead eyes, ok ill eat them,

And on this night the vulture who gathered around
A meal only dreamt off in this barren place. He'd had
Invited a friend for a chat before dinner, never thinking
That his companion would be the starter before the
Main course. light graced the  morning and he was full.

"Now that was a meal, a friend would want to be part of.
"Sorry I didn't mean it like that,
"But you know what you both taste like chicken?

"Funny think is I don't know what a chicken was?

So he waved goodbye to a meal well had,
"Bye my friend or what's left,
But unbeknown to him, the air was seeded in the
Night crisp air of deaths whispers and others who
Knew that taking of fallen prey was at hand.
He sensed breath and behind coming fast was a
Hungry pack. He flapped his wings knowing flight
Beats feet, but wings pounding upon airs grace.
And still he ran upon soiled earth, to much had he
Gorged upon friend and foe, now filled him so.

"I do so hate the circle of life sometimes,

And with that thought did jaws close tight and
The circle of life greeted this fat bird, as the one
That growled found this bird to be like Christmas
It had once heard this word. a bird stuffed three,
This Ferrell pawed one had just had the best bird
Nature could have given. It howled upon the sky
At the delight of its friends, what a feast they did eat.
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2017
religion has usurped natural predators,
saying that,
i'd still prefer to be gorged by
a pack of ravenous wolves
than an islamic terrorist...
at least i could justify the attack
without any qualms...
                     but when man tamed
his natural predators,
         he also created religion -
         no other way to go about it...
since we're dealing with a pre-history,
or the ultra- or all other noted
"events"...
              i watch the fox and think:
now, that's an ally i'd like to keep...
half-dog-half-cat with its agility
  and the necessity for "barking"...
odd, wolves never managed to bark...
the denegrate spirit compared
to its origin, is less vowel bound,
and more consonant bound...
   quasi-human...
    dogs growl, wolves snarl...
   i guess that goes to say that dogs
tend to breathe more through
their gobs, than wolves, which have
a hightened pinch of scent in their
snouts, since they don't
   dribble saliva through their gob as much,
like a st. bernard...
    animals fare worse off when
domesticated than women...
          you domesticate an animal,
chances are, you're a bulldog's squashed
snout away from a problem
regarding breathing...
    try breathing when someone punches
you in the face...
              when you get
punched and your nose gets
broken...
              a ******* ferris-wheel of ideas
is popping into my head...
by ideas, i mean jokes.
          domesticated animals tend
to forget breathing through their
nasal cavities...
            i remember one lesson from
school in poland,
a teacher said:
(a). breathe in through your nose
   (b). breathe out through your mouth...
talk about plumbing issues...
     so yeah...
               bulldog snouts... and accordions.
  oi bull-geezer! play us a' ah'woooo!
   no? thought so, ye:
         slobbering dog-eat-dog fascist;
your snout looks exactly as my mouth
does, after peforming oral ***
on a woman's genitals...
       sloppy... greasy... i swear,
  if you'd stick a piece of paper to my lips
after the act, i'd sound sicilian,
   talking about the marvels of olive oil
   and glue.
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2021
it must be a clear misunderstanding when someone utters the words: 'you hurt my feelings'... taking offense etc. last time i checked... doubt is outright discredited... yet in doubt: such a plethora of emotions... bundles of emotions... emotions that i can't bestow a narrative onto... it's not like the lack of emotions matched with denial... doubt's plethora: it's a pale version of love... in all but certain times... a pinch of uncertainty is always welcome... as is being offended... it's a loose-paradox (paradox: probably a misnomer in the context) of... an imploding objectivity... all those who claim objectivity also claim: being cognitive pure... not being dragged: muddled by emotions... why are emotions so undeserving to be felt... i'm tired of the silence of the heart for almost forever... when people say they have "****-hurt feelings"... or that they might be "offended"... it's not that... i see it as: implanting emotions... somehow it's easier to digest thoughts: since... "somehow" thoughts can exist in both an: in vivo as in an in vitro staging... you will probably never take thoughts seriously... but emotions... that raw slice of cured beef? well... it's not that i "hurt" your "feelings"... it's only that i gave you... feelings you never prior experienced... no one has hurt feelings: never... people only have bothersome feelings they cannot digest... no one is hurting... there are only a few with indigestion qualms... but since it's not the stomach but the heart... no one their pigeon brain starts to coo coo: cook up nonsense...

in light of recent events, in England...
a proselyte: of a former Islamic persuasion...
gets stabbed, slashed... whatever...
for wearing a Charlie Hebdo t-shirt
at speakers' corner in Hyde Park...
does it matter she's a woman:
does it matter whether or not she
was actually talking or merely wearing the t-shirt?
a proselyte...
i'm sort of one: teasing at the adventure...
i'll write the word ****** because...
well: giggle... bundle...
i will not censor my thoughts...
but because i will not utter the word:
i will not: it's not for the debility
and some "sacred past"..
but i will not scream it: choke my thoughts
with it... i'll reach the platitude...
urban slur that it has become:
you... don't... "own" the word...
i don't need this black hole punctuation
marker...
                      the "N-word":
god grease this "taboo": i have better pork
to ****...

- when enough drink is in me
i'll be writing under the influence:
but i won't be cycling... i tried that once...
i collapsed on the side of the road
clenched my bicycle
like a woman might clench a ****-buddy
and just... lay there... i was aiming
for the moon... it was a moonless night...
i started aiming for the constellations:
it was cloudy... i just lay there on
the pavement...
it felt... very village-esque...
as if the Red Army just passed through
having seen the well-dressed SS-men
running for their life in scuffles
and... torn limbs... in rags...
thank god the Bolsheviks were not
those ****-smeared Mongols...
who ate nothing but rancid horse-meat
and drank nothing but horse blood...
but it figures...
can i please talk to some of the sensible
Muslims: the ****'ites?
the old world Persians... even they're ******:
how come a bunch of camel jockeys
started to dictate to the Persians
a new thinking parameter?
the youngest of the monotheistic brat-dom....
so easily offended...
my greatest "fear":
the jihadi with an acute sensitivity
most associated with: French footballers...
why are these Muslims as sensitive as
French footballers...
Islam was once so gracious:
i was almost willing to "revert"...
i was implored by some Muslims to do so...
that's the thing with associating yourself
with Muslims in the west:
a feeling of conversation soon turns into
a feeling of conversion...
i asked one ****-
            -stani who approached me in a park
while i was sipping a beer...
why are you single? he implored...
a man of your stature...
shouldn't be single...
i didn't ask him whether this was England or
whether it was Lahore..
i just asked him what:
Alif-Lãm-Mĩm
meant at the beginning of a surah...
he brushed it somehow "aside" with a:
'only god knows'...
sorry... but that's not good enough...
i have to be the worst type of
a convert prospect...
although the best should an architecture
student... come along with a joint...
me with two beers... him with Le Trio Joubran:
that is happened in Amsterdam:
of course it had to happen in Amsterdam!

Alif-Lãm-Mĩm: is that sort of quiz
akin to turning letters into numbers
and "seeing" patterns... there's that Hebrew term
for this practice... it's not chiromancy...
it's not the concern for the Zodiac...
it only takes three letters...

"666": ΧΞϚ

last time i checked: "they" were breeding black
athleticism over Hebrew intellectualism...
Hebrew intellect fell short &, sour...
with what came out of Marxism
and... Freud still chokes:
but it's hardly a ******* celebration
when translated into skyscrapers...
when there's also that alias of the ****
with the football stadium... no?

but the "******" can be celebrated for his
physical prowess...
there are more holier words in this language
than a slur i hope to confess has become
more of an urban doodle: prepositional-punctuation
marker....

at least i'm not screaming the "N-word" in the back
of my head like some stuttering numb-nuts...
it's there... plain to see...
if i were to write: Niggerian instead of Nigh-Gear-Ian...
it would imply... what?
the same sort of hyper-sensitivity associated
with Jihadi Johnsons alias:
macabre: Russian ballerinas are more cut-throat
than these French footballers...

there are more sacred words than require
black-holes of: translated into "thinking"...
the name of the Hebrew god...
hidden within a "name for a name":
ha-shem...
there... i'll go as far as that...
i will not utter this word...
but sure as hell i'll make a great dough
of it: seeing how it might rise...

**** a black girl: colonial superpower, i...
the English are the tourists of Europe...
i don't think the Polacks ever felt comfortable
in their backyard... ever...
the argument goes: since the English went
all over the world... the world now has
to come knocking...
for all this ****** weather: you're more than
welcome...
Japan is an island... it has much
better weather: go figure...

another example... a former ISIS bride has returned
to England...
she's living in a £500,000 house
and has been giving treatment for
a prosthetic extension
of a lost arm: "lost" in a drone strike...
**** me... should have fought for ISIS...
pumped myself up with all those
amphetamines all those warriors were
ingesting because:
drink is... b'a'a'a'h bad (stutter?) i bet
you want...

hypersensitivity:
great at running...
but... no good at swimming
or for that matter: rock climbing...
from a tree unto the rock...

no matter... i was watching the Australian masterchef
contest and spotted a stand-out...
her grandmother was of a south-east-asian
"persuasion"...
pure as chalk...
well... "good news": ol' sandpaper man
comes in... 2nd generation
of interracial breeding...
well... two generations short...
what's that like in dog years?
the first encounter... done...
2nd... by the 3rd turn product pops out...
all is bleached...
worked with sandpaper... of white: piglet skin...

what a pretty fine explanation...
this connect: nuanced: "us":
greedily waiting the next: new...
conversion...
how do born & bred Muslims treat
proselytes...
converts... "reverts":
if not black h'american Malcolm X
stints...
all white... Mamluk / Janissary types-typos...
second class: ha! "citizens":
i don't trust these anaemic-**** smears
from the sand-pits of wannabe Congo
any more than...
no... great curry...

how it came about that a western man
had to become: educated by
some... retrograde... concerning words:
he would never ******* use!
even in a bilingual sequence of "events"...
mind you... the niqab would come about
as sort of... useful...
concerning the mythological blonde and
her ******* tirade of cough-ups!

get the **** real: ******:
the blacks just want to be...
blacks... the whites just want to be:
white...
you... play-up your jazz
while i drown my ******* Prokofiev...
you be black... i be white...
women always: some great heritge
of brotherhood making a comeback?
must be a Vancuever sort-of
a shin-dig...
investment in lady... qualities...

just about right: how h'Arabs treat those
Bangladeshi whips...
you have to whip those h'Arabs into
owning some ******* whiskers...
brown-beat doesn't even cover it:
with the copper-necks...

- just don't get me started on the Turks...
Turks... supposedly Muslim...
but their alphabet originated with the Mongol
geography...
seeing how the Turks licked at Vienna...
spent so much time just below
the Carpathian mountains: in Europe...
the best barbers and the best
prostitutes known to man...
oh and the ****'ite Persians who still love their
iconography...
Charlie Hebdo was wrong in that respect:
i bet Muhammad was a handsome *******...
a camel jockey / goat herder...
an illiterate par excellence...

it's not like he was immediately liked in his
local Mecca...
i have my "theory": in praise of older women...
i'm pretty sure she was the elder
the literate... the business mind-set illuminated...
she must have been the person who
wrote down the first Surahs...
who? Khadija: Muhammad's first wife...

eh... and they really do think they're the dog's *******...
Eddie Izzard's explanation is still tip-toe for moi...
my francophobia will not go away:
i can't speak French and not retain a French accent...
that will not pass...
therefore? i will not learn French...
i'm not going to speak French like a foreigner...

clearly i wanted to convert to Islam once...
"clearly"? hmm...
i once listened to this spectacular adhan and cried
like a Janissary...
what put me off Islam?
****-
    -stani Islam...
                 Saudi Islam...
     i'm still teased by the Turks... well... Turkish prostitutes...
once upon a time i also
heard vaughan william's fantasia
on the theme of thomas tallis... and also cried...
i cry at beauty... that's what i do...

my ****** lot... because the Hebrew's devil is older
than my devil...
imagine... coming from a people
that still defended the last paganism
of the Lithuanians: the last paganism in Europe...
the year: 1410... a battle between the pagans...
the Tatars (remains of the Mongol Horde)
the Polacks: lack-land lack-land...
and the Teutonic Order...

perhaps i could have convinced myself
to convert to Islam...
but then... what the hell do i do with
the *******... ms. amber and all that bourbon
that... always reminds me of a brothel?

the Hebrew god...
well... it begins with the implosion and all that's
clockwork with the Greek Δ -
that became the Y or... the serpent's split tongue...
funny story...
i was chatted with a Greek on a train to central
Warsaw from the Modlin Airport...
my god... how similar Greek sounds to Spanish!

look here: γΥ!
                           eh? eh? it's a sound structure that
requires an umlaut when transcribed into
Latin:                     gÜ...
one parabola... two parabola: a pair of wheels:
goo!          of the ghoul!

i do believe the story of of Carmenta (the Cimmerian Sibyl)
because... why shouldn't
it not be mythological that the genius
of Sejong who invented Hangul...
enough time passes...
journalism becomes history and history becomes
myth... or... there abouts...

all for the best... now that we're all seemingly
literate...
under too much weight of history:
it seems that i have inherited too much...
and i have inherited too much:
there's a plateau of a horizon...
so much history for a single man to digest:
ingest... that we have hoarded so much
of it... enter filter... enter skim-reading...
but it happens  ever so often that a Quran arrives...
a fire... but then... all the restrictions
that come with it... so much with keeping
too much from the past...

if only Islam could have cured me
of my drinking solution
to the boredom associated with
the soberness of the everyday: platitudes...
perhaps enough: just enough of *** could
curate me towards a better path...
such are the times:
there's plenty of drink: available...
but never enough ***...
unless you're a performance artist...

i feel most sane on a bicycle... feel safest
when being overtaken by a juggernaut of
a truck's volume...
a critique of traffic...
i feel... completely bewildered when
a mini-cooper: this sized: ||
takes... this much: |       | of space
to overtake you...
while... a man driving a van...
or a truck sized: |       |
takes... || to pass you...

Gallows Corner roundabout...
the last thrill of a cyclist taking to orientating
traffic... in the newspaper...
another solipsistic cyclist was mowed down
by a truck turning left at some junction
of Holborn...
me and my unconscious spatial coordination
arithmetic: not some ******... although:
a ****** would probably wave hello
this was a paediatrician cycling to her job...
i don't pity her... let the earth be light
upon claiming her body...

most cyclists that die on the streets of London
deserve to die...
how nonchalantly they ignore...
how... no... nonchalant is a timid word:
how... blasé they seem...
every time i pass one of these solipsistic
bulges geared up for: target practice
i forget to laugh...

i feel human... i bought 70cl of bourbon...
gorgon... bourbon: watch me turn to stone...
**** it... i'll sober up tomorrow morning
on the dual carriage way...
why not take the risk?
i'm most sane when drinking and scribbling
or when cycling...
i was expecting to see some lovelies in
Upminster... but...
since i was riding a road bike with 23cm wide tires
i was looking down for... ***-holes...
more than looking up for cleavage...

but this glorious spot... just outside of Upminster...
beyond Cranham... easing into
Bird Ln... through to Tomkyns Ln.
while walking across the A127 Arterial...
the organic beauty of England is starting
to grow on me... i love what the Saxons did with
the place...
perhaps the Welsh and the Scots: the origins story
Britons that the Romans met would have
done just as much...
nice... tended to garden...
i once felt nostalgic for the land most associated
with Polacks occupying it
but a land the Swedes wanted... the Mongols...
the Russians... Turks and Germans...
i imagine i'd be as much involved with
a love for the organic north America
while missing the love for the...
culture that lay on top of the organic spectacle...

i much adore this topography...
of course i can hardly appreciate the natives
having too play the game of capitulation
of former colonial herd "animals"...
hurt feelings? or feelings aroused?
you felt them: your problem...

how the English capitulated to their former subjects...
it almost hurts... almost: no... it hurts...
i love this land...
i'm hardly going to agree with the people...
nicety... politeness:
you give them a ******* mosque in the middle
of... i've was invited to the Reagent Park mosque
as a prospectus convert...
what is it with having Muslim "friends":
you're only "friends"... "proper":
if you convert?!
what's that recipe you have for the Lavash?
who would have thought that rosemary
works just as well with beef as it does with lamb...
oh right... that was it?
fair enough... *******!

see... that's what put me off Islam...
****-
  -stani: Rotherman...
bad taste man... it just left a bad taste in
my mouth... i ended up without a mouth...
pretending to eat via the hole i **** from...
i'd scoff out some diarhoea digestive juices on
my meal and then... vacuum it up with my ****...
i remember the concept of teeth...
though... teeth were nice...
so was the tongue...

****-
  -stanis ruined my vision of converting to Islam...
i'll settled for this... makeshift of Christianity...
gnostic.. because... well:
in my position: you're not teasing at Hebrew
superstitions... you must be...

oh this land... this most glorious: serene land...
how breath-taking "concept" of Scotland...
all the finicky irks of the rolling hills of
what's mostly England...
on a bicycle: best...
do i mind the locals?
well... do the local mind their former colonial
subjects?
what's that saying: thanks for the recipe?

you see me in Bangkok... you see a *******
chimpanzee die from dehydration:
sweated out from his... salty... nut-sack!
i'm not going... to hell with south-east Asian
humidity...
it's a cancer... i'll best survive with "the idea"
of keeping up a hard-on / narrative on...
prospectus ghost horizons...
the Faroe Isles... *******: GREEN-LAND...

that's where Frankenstein's monster would
have went... i'd go there too...
the agony of summer...
everything decomposes too quickly...
the flies... the maggot **** the flies!

oh for the love of these isles... perhaps not the people:
then again... i rather drift in & out with
the anglo-saxons than be jumbled up with
"my" people...
you start to appreciate despising the
******* diaspora after a while...
i guess the Polacks are the most willing to
integrate...
whoever showcased the dynamics of the
congregation project of Chicago...
somehow forgot...
i'll drink drink this 70cl of bourbon:
don't worry... i won't clog up the arteries of
the NHS with my antics...

you what? i love this land... perhaps the wolves
have been culled...
but the foxes are still running rampant...
well: if life throw you foxes:
you're not going to exactly: ah-woooo!
bark? for the love of life: i will never
bark or take to the leash...
i own two maine *****...
i exhausted them while grooming them...

they ended up spending the afternooon
sleeping in my bed...
i'm hopefully going to retire to it:
with a horror movie soundtrack somehow:
soon...
spontaneity of narrative... closure:
more impromptu... less of that...
masquerade formality...
this god blessed land...
if only the Spanish armada...
like the Mongolian ships...
should the conquest of Yappon could have
been envisioned...

anyone still reading this still bothered about...
GG?
the consensus of... a neGlected...
     Giant...
i think... this former soy boys catching
their Goliaths... catch 'em cold... sober..
or... simply exchange them?
to perform so well in slam-dunk prowess...
reinvent classical music via jazz through
towards blues... rock... etc.?

somehow the weight on my shoulders shifts...
a Nigerian ****** turns out to be an urban slur that
doesn't invoke a Nigerian...
a soy boy vegan: perhaps...
i implore the use with coercion tactic...
for those offended: yeah... i'll just implant some
emotions into your heart...
it's very much offensive for my to intrude with
proper spelling...

let's be honest: anyone who has been:
honest... is by now... tired of walking on eggshells...
**** a black girl... what, you?! colonial beast!
yes... confuse the ****** with the Croat...
the Russian too... hell... throw some Ukrainian bias
while you're at it...
anti-racist western girls are...
eh... m'eh... if i can get what i want for
half a decade's worth with some Turkish raven
hair... beaus...
do i... have to mind... pronouns... prospectus quotes etc?

like i said... wait for the bleach..
or... the sandpaper...
i've seen the complete works...
i was ****** with... love... affairs...
girls that dated me...
sure... but they had younger sisters...
and their younger sisters were more...
most attractive...
terrible combination:
dating a girl while her younger sister
is more attractive...

for all the choices and Heidegger...
lucky loser...
no... thank you...
to be one of these super-sensitive Islam propagators...
me? convert?! *******: no!
best keep that ***** in the niqab...
if it were a bone tomahawk..
it would be a female... declined limbs...
blinded...
a torso readied for *******...
imagine that... a replica machinery...

oh i'm sure... Muhammad... was a handsome beast...
but i'm thankful...
that the first... last... true religion...
met a schism so early...
Muhammad was so easily undermined
not keeping a nepotistic promise for
a cousin Ali...
early schism: no truer than:
truth is somehow sold?!

i fiddle with my beard:
whoever says otherwise... no... i'm still playing a violin!
i'll sober up solo... cycling against the gusts of wind...
Eloise...
Eloise!
England... oh this well deserved and welcome land...

my land....
in deutsche:: mein(e) erde...
i watch the locals: capitulate....
   what are you?! slugging *****-best-please
sumac? i... i am to surround  suspicion?

this glorious land....
                   this.... glorious land...
this: ING-LAND...
best forget the wolves..
given the foxes are prunes...
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2017
you have to be kidding me!
first you export all the manual,
masculine jobs to china,
and then... you have the audacity
to do this?!
i mean, beards?
are we going to actually work,
or ponce around doing
louis xiv swirls and scoffing
cakes like an antoinette -
of all people, the french are complain
that they can't keep up with
eastern european post-communists...
yeah, that 36 hour week must
be so difficult, esp. when you've
stopped scruffing yourself in:
"philosophy" over a *** and coffee;
poncy wankers... the 'ole lot of 'em!
yeah yeah, just ******* to
the gym to feel what "work" feels
like...
ask any roofer: you go to the gym?
and he'll reply:
  ever stuck your head into a boiler
filled with melted tar?
you wanna?
  **** smells like roses in winter,
it's kinda addictive, probably as safe
as sniffing glue, but you get the idea.
beards?!
  beards are menacing?
     oh, you're not tending to your
"garden"... ah, i see,
if i had two stumps for arms you'd
employ me, but if i had both
hands (and a beard) you'd reconsider...
this is great!
    i can't even be sarcastic about this:
arbeit macht frei all the way,
the grand export...
        vollbart macht
                        frei von arbeit
-
hey, hey! it's my decision whether
i like seeing my double chin or not!
how's that translation coming along?
a beard makes you free from work?
woooo! and it ******* rhymes!
nice... pat on the head, matthias.
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2018
you know when you're so severely dehydrated,
you walk into a kitchen,
tilt a teapot into your mouth
   and start figuring out the mirage:
oh, yummy, milk in it to boot
    (which is not exactly an english,
but a siberian "thing", in the origins narrative),
and a teaspoon (howlin' wolf: ah woooo!
    beats b. b. king... hard time with
                   john lee ******) of sugar!
- upon subsequent realißation -
     oh, right, neither, just the black tea;
oh well,
     at least there's the sunday times
                              newspaper to read:
   or what remains of the middle ground:
"gender fluid" wooo oooo loop of oopsy
   and: are you ******* mad?

— The End —