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kalpana nayak Jun 2015
Jee aur aieee k sadme k mare ** jte h anjne anokhe unvrsts k hawale,nya clg nya jgh nye dost sb kch hta h nw nw,clg k strtng s hr ksi k dil m hta h rgng ka dar....2nd yr m cnr bnne ka hta h sbko gurur,frnds kai grp m bat jte h,hr koi dkhte h nye luks m,3rd yr m sbko ati h apni jimedari ka ahsas aur fnl yr ata h dston m fasle bdhte h...rah dkhe the is din k kbse,age k sapne saja rkhe the njane kbse,sb bde utavle the yhn se jne ko,zndgi ko dusre trke se dkhne ko....pr njane aj dil m kch aur he ata h,piche ja k waqt ko rok k apne andr sare lmhe ko samet lne ka jee krta h....at d strtng f btech kha krte the bdi muskil s y 4 sal bitenge lkn kse pta tha y sb chd k jne ka mn ni krga...na vulne wali kch yadein reh *** o yadein jo ab jine ka sahara bn ***...na jne aj q un palon k yad bht ati h jin baton ko lekar tab rote the ,aj un palon ko yad kar bht hsi ati h....y sch k ankhein nam ** jte h k mri tang ab kn kncha krga,m apne bton s kska sar khaungi,pranks ksk 7 krngi,ab mjhe kn itna jhlga,ksk smne ntnki krngi,jin dst p lakh kurban whn 1 rupye k ly  kn ldhnge,kaun rat vr bina soye bt krga,kaun bina pche 1 dusre ka chj istml krga,kaun nya nm rkhga,bina ksi bt k m ab ksse ldhungi,bina ks tpc k fal2 bt kn krga,bkws q kn krga,xam k ek din phle o tyri o rate,kn rat var 7 jag kr pdhga,kn fail hne p dilasa dlyga,y hasin pal ab ksk 7 jiungi....yad ati h o rec k choti si cntn bar bar jhn kch v ni mlta mre yar fr v na jane q hum gye hnge so bar...tum jse kmine dost khn mlnge jo khai m v dhaka de ayen sale srs mtr ko v joke m cnvrt kr de,par fr tmhe bachane khud v kud jye....mre hrkton se nakhro se jid s prsan kn hga ,ksk 7 brng lctrs jhlngi..bina mtlb k ksko v dkh kr pglon k trh hsna,na jne y fr kb hga....ky hm y sb fr krpaenge....bdy clbrt,ek h rm p bth k 1 dusre s wtsap p bt krna...rat k 3-4 bje khna pkana....bina ksi mtlb k rat ko chilana....mlk pina...pgl jse hrkt krna..mlk ghumna....kaun mjhe apni kabiliat pr vrosa aur jyda hawa m udne pr zamin p lyga....mre khusi m sch m khus kn hga,mre gam m mjhse jyda dukhi kn hga....keh do doston y dubara kb hga....dil m ek kasak hoti h jb hr ankhein nam hti h,fir mlne k wade se hm ek dusre se juda hte h,kv na akle rhne wle dost bas yadon k sahare zndgi bitate h....lkn jb v y clg k din yad ate h ankhon m hasin aur ansu ek 7 late h...engnr bnne k khusi v ansu rok na pai ,q k njr aa rai t doston s judai...ab jo hna tha o ** gya akhir m sbse juda ** h gye....aj v un palon ko yad kr k ansun rok ni pte h ....nkl he jte h...aur yuhi lkh lkh k apko pka rai hn....char sal yu he gye hmri beet..ab khn mlnge wo dost wo mit...dua krt hn sb k ly race y zndgi k jao tm jit....
I ms my clg clg dys.....
Karunakar Saroj Aug 2014
Teri yad hain ek khvabo ka jharana
Jise yad karake yu doob jana
Fir aankho pe nami ka achanak se aana
Ehasas hain karata vo gujara jamana

teri yad . . .


-----------------------------: :--------------------------------
( Karunakar )
AWAIS HABIB Oct 2018
bicharhny ka gham nahe mj ko
bs yaado ki brsaat yad atti hai

fursat ki b khushi nahe mj ko
bs baato ki rawaani yad atti hai

judaey to waisy b satoon-e-mohabat hai
pr kia kru dasht-e-tanhaey yad atti hai

rishty to bht hn yaha likin
us rishta-e-bai naam ki yad atti hai

ik yad to bht barhe cheez hai awais
gham khwaar-e-dill ki hr baat yad atti hai
Piyush Karchuli May 2020
Papa ka office se ghara aana
Bhag kar unke pass jana
unke samne masumiyat se apne hath ko failana
yad karte ** n, jara soch kar batana

Dosto ko roj naye ajib-ajib namo se chidhana
Bhai-Bahan ko bina bt satana
School na jane ka roj naya bahana
Chupke se dusro ka lunch box kha jana
yad karte ** n, jara soch kar batana

Andhere se darkar maa ki aanchal me chup jana
Papa ki kandho par baithkar mele me jana
Khilono ke liye jid P arr jaana
Choti choti galtiyon par maa ka thapki lagna
Yad karte ** n, soch kar batana

Na tension thi duniya ki,
na tha paisa kamana
Kya the bachpan ke bhi din
jaisa mano Sare khushiyo ka fasana
Yad karte ** na, jara soch kar batana
in the memory of childhood
Karunakar Saroj Aug 2014
Tu meri jindagi, tu mera khvaab hain
Tuje yad karate, mere ye jajbat hain
Mujhe yad tere, yu to har alfaj hain
Par tu agar pas **, to lage meri sanse mere pas hain
Yatharth lakhan Feb 2014
Mene suna he ki vo aaj bhi vahi intazar karti he
shayad ab bhi mujse pyar karti he
mene nahi chaha kabhi usase juda hona
par vahi he ke jamane se na jane kyo darti he
ham to yaado ke sahare ji lenge uski
or vo he ke yaado ko dene se darti he
kya hoga gar chal bhi gaya pata jamane ko
fikr mat karo kuch logo ko kisse mil jayenge is jalim duniya ko sunane ko
bare gor se sunegi dasta ye hamari duniya
kabhi na kabhi yad to karegi
is jamane ke dar se bhichade ham divano ko
Mateuš Conrad Dec 2023
jad, or yad, depending on the geography of tongues:
like there's some "inheritance" taxation
on the glorification of a tortured body,
tortured soul... as if: god were to become man...
hmm! a pondering cycle: i think: i don't think so...

i can write: oh this Hebrew "monster" morphs...
no wonder i'm writing profanities...
יָהּ

     ** chi chi: see how ā extends through the yod
toward the H: H being the vowel capturing
citadel of first sigh
then the slingshot of laughter:

uncontrollable...

a bit like actors faking there's no B when
ushering in the word: DEBT...
because there's no meaning to the letters DET
but the B is silenced to enforce meaning
not seen in said...

if i were ever to believe in the polytheistic
mantra of reincarnation
since this life...
only once:
yes... but all the other lives too:
only once... lived...
   ****** brain gizmo ooh ooh...
point a finger pick up a stick
call it the chimp-easy: forgot how to spell
chimpanzee... no wait... just spelled it...

never harm a stranger... never harm a stranger...
never harm a stranger...
playground lyrics from
:wumpscut - bunker gate seven...

during the winter months i'm reflective...
during the summer months i'm reflexive...
which probably implies
come autumn i'm reflectively-reflexive
and come spring i'm reflexively-reflective...
but that's *******...
i'm all these things and not:
thoroughly throughout the year...

i can write my version of how Islam originated...
Hagar...
based on the Greek noun-lettering
dynamic i.e. the prefix- constituent prime: letter
and the -suffix "name"
Alpha is A-(+)-lpha...
Beta is B-(+)-eta
                                                        etc.

here's my profanity...
i'll write: Allah into the Kabbalah...

blah blah... blah blah...

   beginning with yod akin to ayin...
ע                    :     י

עללאה

5 letters... five sen

                 ח: č
                          hiding the consonant H for CHeap
like hiding H for sheep in ש: shins?                             š

book of numbers: book of letters...

but i'm still suspicious... truly, abjad?
i was with this Somali white rabbit
chasing shifts coming back from
Wembley to Romford...
a dog frightened him...
i inquired: knowing full well that
Mohammad was fond of cats...

haram... haram... forbidden...
and the dogs lick their testickles
and the cats too
and we love licking each others' testicles too
like the pristine example of a counter- Mona Lisa
is a woman having a ******* or a foursome
three holes... two charged given pleasure
while the third giving pleasure via
oral...
           hmm... inquisitive squinty eye...
black ink: octopus juice...

yad = venom...
    all these semites clogging my intellectual veins
short-circuiting my intellectual ambitions...
like the cold didn't **** them off
to ******* now this ******* of Judaism in
Europe littering buggering child
******* Islamism and what not...
like Europeans were these
albino non-universal stereotypes who
didn't wage some sort of retort against
Rome...

mind you... the Slavs had no reason for:
engaging with Rome because those
pokrzywa: nettle bushes of Britain were
a fine example of how itching translated to cleanliness
in the cold in pre-medieval times...
second literacy with computer coding:
yet all this barren land of literacy
kept by the church's strong liberal
**** for the ministry and choir, not nourished?

i like a phat ***... so fat i'm getting glitter
pseudo-LSD day-dreams of
imagining i'm ******* my mother
while in fact i'm ******* a mother with a child
dressed in the drag of death...

there's a reason why
in the Slavic tongue there's an Aryan letter
distinction...
no confusion, with the given: ק qaf
כ kaf... cough?
ahem ahem... cough cough?

AL AY?                    i thought we figured out the Greek
of: naming letters but cutting off naming
letters from associated nouns
to give leeway for word formation... no?

so if it's not a story of two Adams:
א and ע...
what is it a story of?
oh **** me... Cain and Abel...
but if A-lpha and B-eta and G-amma
and...
                  hmm...

what's the cut off logic then?
A-lef?
            A-yin?
            which would make a grotesque revision
of the tetragrammaton,
i.e. the next letter: L and Y...

   which are already there!
אל (AL)

   and... עי (AY)

ergo? my nuanced tetragrammaton:

                                                                יעאל

otherwise known as: allah in the kabbalah...

you cannot tell me ayin and aleph are
not vowels: i object to the abjad...
cleverly formed semitic gaslighting *******...

not with the rigours of Latin scrutctures
borrowed from transliterating Greek...
not with the rigours of Latin lettering structures
borrowed from transliterating Greek...

and boy not on me... this pagan soul
from the realm of Hyperborean barbarism...
where there are concepts as:
child form is unfuckable...
i need a fat Puerto Rican ***
and thighs and 36D **** to smother...
there's honour and there's... clearly no state...
no nation... so back we go to consolidating
affairs of: prudence and generosity
via self-judgement toward judging others
as: worth the mustard, or the mayo churn?
on a face to face focus and limited pretense
of judgement settings of exclusivity:
shared trust...

            i can't trust a Somali beside trusting
that i will get him from one shift to another...
because i too want to get home early...
too bad that he doesn't like dogs
but cats are no better whatever the **** Muhammad
the Egyptian said...
funny that... the name Muhammad...
funny if you know two tongues...
Mucha - fly... in polish...
mad - well mad... in English...
crazy fly... ha ha...

for a month a subtle trickle of accusation that i might:
just might... have a thing for thirteen year old girls:
oh man... which translated to:
i tried to **** in the Pacific and i did...
but water is a restrictor not a lubricator
so... dead end...
more seasaw than ***...
i'm trying... trying... to figure out what might
be appealing to a man in a *** act with
a woman that's Picasso's anti-cubist worst nightmare...
geometry...
and... clearly i can't see anything beside
ooh that "fat" juicy *** **** and how she
described rubbing olive oil on her stomach
while pregnant to ease the stretching remarks...

mind you: i've dated someone "blessed" with
a ******* experience: even my own mother
was "touched" by an experience...
Pharisees of intellectual *** dismatching...
*** is an emotional toil...
oh jeez... the burden of coupling:
the fermenting ego of thought mitigation
drifting toward the other...
absorbing her whole: without a self echo-chamber...
the Cartesian courtship of res cogito x2
in what used to be a res extensa x1

but is now res extensa x2²

          for all the thrills of ***... later come the thrills
of insinuation... the daughter is not mine
and is fatherless: dead dead dead...
but there's no widow in sight...
so obviously there's plenty of fetishes to be
unearthed:

18 hour... year... month... gap...
and yes: i must be thinking about ******* my mother...
given that there's no incestous relation
wouldn't i want to think about ******* daughter too?

point being: i like to know that this beast exists
and that i can tame it...
with all prior relationships there was this
naivety of youth and nothing to
intellectually ******* over with myself...
there was nothing to contain:
nothing to manage...
nothing that needed to require a moralistic leash:
just the carnal act and some variation
of identity politics if, only the begging whiff of it
(it being, identity politics)...
but now... after a hiatus of a decade
and some... when was the last time
a man could boast that a ******* from
a brothel was trying to get in touch with him
because what? someone is paying more than
£120 an hour she's already getting
or that i have to work 12 hours to get as much
freezing my ***** off or is my *** that good or what?

Quaker oats?!

          someone best explain to me this fetish
of Moloch's daughter... surprise surprise:
for some apparent reason ******* is an exclusively
masculine deviance?
hardly...       but looking at artwork... Picasso...
a fully formed woman with all her curves
is... cubism... i know it's somewhat grotesque
given the classical depiction: but it's a womanising
healthy revelation of form...
it's form in motion: that's cubism...
cubism is therefore geometry in motion...
oh **** me... that's revelatory even to me...

CUBISM IS GEOMETRY IN MOTION...

so given that... a child is geometry...
i've been around 13 year old before and i can stand
shrouded in ******* shadows and leaves and tell you:
i'm feeling no ****** energy... nothing has been woken up...
so i don't appreciate: i didn't...
appreciate the insinuations the accusations
of ******* a turnip of ***-prose
when it hasn't discovered the ***-poetic...

***-prose? i'm a 37 year old man enjoying
a conversation with a 13 year old girl...
***-poetic? Prokofiev + Nabokov...

                                    with regards to the advent of
new father daughter relations...
only recently at work i had to clue myself in
on a possible safeguarding mishap
with two teenage girls and a father who bought
them beer... c'mon... underage drinking?
in public and not freckles fiasco stupid
at a houseparty...

                  oh there is ***-prose and there is ***-poetic...
***-prose happens all the same...
***-poetic only, vaguely, sometimes;
if i see this girl become sexually
orientating a birth of the ***-poetic
out of the ***-prosaic...
   then i'm obviously going to be equipped
with the Platonic...
or at least i know that the Platonic is a curtain
to curb and effigy of Moloch's daughter:
who ****** her sacrifices rather than
made her father's pederast tongue flick on
the gas chamber switch... pedagogy of giants
via infanticide; or modern women's flimsy
breath on the moral of atom bomb contraceptive pill
abortions...

huh ha ha...        as if i were a Christian moralist...
maybe just an existential... realist? humanist?
sure sure... old folks' home...
just import some Kenyan care like i give a ****:
myopia borrowed from time
of some 1950s utopian-nostalgia...
shy of 10 years just after a Holocaust;
bull... ****!
Prime Rhyme Time Jun 2020
Maa,  kya tj pta h
Tri beti ko yha kse jeena pdta h
Ghrpe tu jse mj jgati thi
To koi b chinta mj na satati thi
Yha tri bht yaad aati h
Pr phr b tri beti khud ko smjhati h
Sone k phle aakho se aasu aa HI jaata h
Kuki yha ka akelapan mj bht satata h
Bht jhoota h ye jha
Aasan ni rhna yha
Hr Mod pe ek nayi chunauti aa jati h
Mgr tu preshan mt **
Tri beti tjhko HI yaad krke sbka saamna kr paati h
Maa ku ni h tre jse sb
Kuki pta ni chlta kon yha dhoka DE jaaye kb
Or papa.. Tumhari pari tumko b bht yad krti h
Jb b tumhari yaad aati h.. Ye aakhe ro pdti h
Me tumko dikhati ni ki  akeli hn ME yha
Plz tum mj le jaao na aap sbka saath mil ske jha
Ku wapus ni aa jaate vo din
Jb b tumahri pari preshan hoti thi
Uske saath uske Papa ki himmt hoti thi
Yha to bs roti rh jaati hn
Tumhara intezaar krti rh jaati hn
Koi b mere paas ni aata
Isliye kai baar dil sehem sa h jaata
Bhai..  Tri vo ladai yaad aati h
Jo mj rote wqt b hsa jati h
Or jb Tra, mera US trha dhyan rkhna yaad aata h
Vo hste wqt b mj rula jaata h
Is Hostel ki zindgi ne sbko door kr dia hai
Or Bs hr mode pe akela krke cchod dia hai
Kaash bdi HI na hoti ME
To ab b PAPA ki vhi pari HOTI ME
Maa ki vhi laado hoti ME
Bhai ki vhi shararti bhn hoti ME ..
Hira Feb 2015
Aj brri shiddat se toot k yad aya hae wo
chaha b to toot k tha main nay usay
wo pehli mulaqat..
mje acha lga tha wo
usko b shaed!
lgi achi thee main
wo b khamosh tha..
chup to main b thee..
uski ankhun nay kaha kch
suna main nay b tha buhat kch
suno!!
main tmen kch kahun!
mje tm say muhabbat hai
kash! mje tm mil he jao kbi
arzu to ye he hai abi
buhat khamosh muhabbat krti hn tmen
tm mere pas ajao na!
tm he say to kehna hae..
tm he say sb kehna hae
mje tm say muhabbat hae
sirf tm say muhabbat hae
aur yae b jan lo..
aur tm maan lo..
tm sirf..  mere **
Sirf mere **...
Asa D Bruss Feb 2015
yad a ekam dluoc  I fI
noitalsnart ni tsol saw eno on erehw
!eb dlouw taht yad yppah a tahw O
dniknam sah ydalam retaerg tahw roF
kcal elpmis ruo naht
.gniwonk fo
sdnim lautum ruo fo gniwonk ehT
dlog naht thguos erom si
revlis naht suoicerp erom
dnoyeb dna raf dna
derised erom
. sevlesmeht sthguoht eht fo yna naht
http://www.radiolab.org/story/translation/
Hira Feb 2015
Meri zindgi
meri har khushi
meri chahten, tm he to thay
mje tm he say muhabbat thee
tm he to meri jan thay
koi bta day tm ko b
k tm ** ab tk na-ashna
tm nay mje tora hae
mera dil kahan tm nay chora hae
mje tm nay chorna he tha to!
q mje tm nae chaha tha!
q mje tm nay jana tha!
main aj kahay deti hn
tm ko main ab bhool jaon ge
tm ko kbi na staaon ge
kbi main yad na aon ge
tm thay meri zindgi
muhabbat ki thee tm say he
aj kahay deti hn main ab
tm say mjko ** gye nfrat
tm say muhabbat khtm hui
toot gaye sb naate rishte
dil say kahay deti hn main ab
lay li jga nfrat nay..
Muhabbat kho gye kahen..
Ankit Dubey May 2019
bewafa agar wo hote to unse shikayat mai kar leta,
pyar to aaj bhi unse hi karta hu,
tab shayad shikwa bhi kar leta,
na wo bewafa hai na mai shikayat kar sakta hu,
vo to bas door hai mujhse,
tab shayad khud ko unse door kar leta,
bewafa agar vo hote to unse shikayat mai kar leta....
yun to kai baar vo muhse rooth jaya karte hai,
tab shayad mai khud hi unse rooth jata,
ab vo yaad bahut aate hai,
tab shayad unhe bhool jane ki koshish mai kar leta,
yaad me unki ab bhi aansoo bahata hu mai,
tab shayad unhe yad na aane k gam me ro leta,
bewafa agar vo hote to unse shikayat mai kar leta....
baarish jab hoti aur vo sath nahi hote,
to akela hi us barish me bheeg leta,
tanha hu mai aaj bhi unk bina,
tab shayad unhe kareeb lane ki koshish na kar pata,
ab to bas jindagi beet rahi hai  unk aane ki ummeed k sahare,
shayad tab khud ko mita diya hota,
bewafa agar vo hote to unse shikayat mai kar leta.
MOTV Dec 2015
They say its all in your head kid
Put the pen to work, get the checks kid
Ouuuuuuuuuu
Off with neglecting
Let the money talk
Let the money walk
Ouuuuuuuuuu
They say it's all about the benjamins
Money Conquer they wanna make US Bonkers
Make Us Conquered.
Make us they casualties
Turn them into fantasy
On to making checks kids
It's a hex kid
It makes sense kids
On to making cents kids,
Put the world with the greed essence.
Money rules the world and its insane kid
But who rules the life, for me they name is Way Big.
But Imma, Conquer It, On and On Till I'm Way Big.
Moving to the Top Conquer won't stop
Need an another bottle of ***** to plot
Talking to the Gin that lives within
All I wanna Do Is Conquer Sin
On another level A problem Kids
Another problem needs conquering
Yad a Yad A Yah. And Conquering.
More Gems I Do Plot, to Conquer kids.
UnStoppable
UnStoppable
Take the future
For you are UnStoppable
Lotsa dough, own Lotsa of dough
Money is the first thing to conquer, so.
Reap what you Sew, Reap what you Sew
Seep In The Drow
Then on to the next ***.
**Ouuuuuuuuuu
Lilith Meredith Jun 2013
He is ancient steadfast
I am sure he was here when the world was created
I am sure he will be here when it ends
His gentle face carved with hard lines
He poured forth knowledge in his native Persian tongue
He called me Shohre
I learned it was his sister's name
He looked at me like a granddaughter and treated me just as sweet

“Ghabl az enghalab...”
Before the revolution...
After which would follow painful reminiscing of
The days before the current regime
When wine bubbled out from Shiraz
Men and women danced late into the night
And soft voices wove love songs in street cafes

“Ghabl az enghalab moalem dar daneshgah boodam.”
Before the revolution I was a university professor.
“Yeki az daneshjooyanam Ahmedinejad bood.”
One of my students was Ahmedinejad.
And in English, clear as hate,
“He was a *******.”

One night I stayed back for extra lessons
We ate cherries from Costco and
Read excerpts from his autobiography
Pages crafted from right to left, vignettes of
His military service in Mashhad
And consequent teaching career

“Ba'ad az enghalab...”
After the revolution...
Was always followed with war stories
Political dissidents lost to Evin prison
Sharia law imposed on moderate minds
Escaping Iran by night with a phony visa

“Ba'ad az enghalab dar ketabkhane bayad kar konam”
After the revolution I had to work in the library.
“Khoastam yad bedahm, pas man o zanam be Amrika raftim.”
I wanted to teach, so my wife and I came to America.
He has not been home since 1981.

On December third of 2009 he walked smugly into the classroom
Setting a tape player happily on a desk.
He opened a folder from right to left
Produced a well-worn cassette
And played Happy Birthday, in Persian, for me.
He smiled at me with hands folded throughout the song
As I’d imagine he had smiled at
All the other special women in his life named Shohre.

He never played Happy Birthday for any of the other students.
Or gave them cherries,
Or went to their weddings,
Or held them while they cried when their grandfather died.
I do not know what he saw in me
But in each other we found family years and miles away from home.
Part III in a series.
Ankit Dubey May 2019
Jab bhi khush hota hu ye sochkar k kuch aur paas aye ** tum mere,
Kismat har baar tumhe aur door le jati hai....

Har baat yaad karne lag jaata hu jab bhi mai,
Teri majboriya mujhe kuch aur yad karne ko majboor karti hai.....

Tere pyar me tujhe sochkar hi tere aks ko choone ki jab jab koshish karta hu,
Har bar kismat mujhe khud k koi aur hone ka ehsas karati hai.....

Har jarre me jab teri tasveer najar aati hai,
Tab bhi na jaane ku aankhon se ojhal hone lagti **......

Bhoolkar bhi agar koshish karoo k ye ehsaas hi bahut hai k tum meri **,
Naa jaane ku tu un ehsaason me bhi kuch aisa kar jati hai,
k yaad rakhta hu tumko aur tu kuch aur door chali jaati hai.......

** gya hu adat se majbur fir bhi tumhe pyaar karta hu,
aur ye dillagi hai k har baar tumhe aur pyar krne ko majboor kar jati hai......
Smiling Queen Aug 2019
Kyu?

Jab karte ** itni mohabbat hamse,
To phir tum chipate hi kyu **?
Jab tum mere bin ek pal bhi na reh pate **,
To phir mujhse dur jate hi kyu **?
Jab tumhara dil mujhe pana chahta hai,
To tum use satate hi kyu **?
Jab najare churani hi hai tumhe mujhse,
To phir mere samne aate hi kyu **?
Tum kehte the na ki mai tumhari nahi ** sakti,
Jab mai tumhari ** hi nhi sakti,
To phir mujhe tum itna yad aate hi kyu **?


~your smiling queen :)
If you love me so much,
Why the hell do you hide from me?
If you can't live without me,
Why the hell do you want to leave me?
JGuberman Aug 2016
after Yona Wallach (1944-1985)


Let's have it!
I came for the show!
Strip the Torah
to its essence
where not one word can hide
caress it with your Yad
singing in a lovers voice
an ancient burlesque
and when it's done and dressed again
parade it dancing through the congregation
a fitting encore
to a fine performance
as we almost fall over each other
to touch it
slipping spiritual dollars into its belt
the temperatures rising
like a finished prayer
that even makes the Malachim sweat
in their heavenly heights.
Yona Wallach was an Israeli poet known for her suggestive and sometimes explicit work that was often both sacred and profane.

Yad is the pointer used to read from the Torah

Malachim are "angels".
Samraat Anand Sep 2017
TERE DIL ME RAHNE KA SHAUK THA HAMEE BETAHASHA ;

TERE SATH KII IS DIL KOO TALAB THI;

TERE LABH SE KUD KA NAAM SUNNE KA ZID THA…

TU ZINDAGI TOH PAHLE SEE THI MERI;

AUR SHYAD AB ZEENE KA KARAN BHI HOO *** …



CHAH KAR BHI TERE KARIB AANE SE DARTA HUU;

DIN RAAT TUJHE SOCH KAR BHI LABH *** LANE SEE DARTA HUU;

TIL TIL KAR TERE SATH KO MARTA HUU….

AUR KOI PUJHE TOH BAS, HAS KAR ITNA KAHTA HUU;

WO EK MUSAFIR THI JISKI MANJIL MAI NAA THA ;

WO EK CHAKOR THI JISKA CHAND MAI NAA THA;

WO EK DARIYA THI JISKA SAHIL MAI NAA THA…



EK BAR FIR SEE USKEE LIYE YEE DIL MACHAL RAHA HAI;

FIR SEE NAYE SAPNE DEKHNE KOO YEE DIL  MAR RAHA HAI ;

KAISE SAMJHAUU IS NADAN PARINDEE KOO ;

KII TUU EK BAR FIR TUTNE KI OOR BADH RAHA HAI….



WOO KAHTE THE IS JHUTE ISK KI BATEE NA KIA KARO;

DIL TUMHARA HAMME CHOR KISI AUR KE LIYE BHI DHARKEGA ;

KUCH DIN ME AASHIKI KA BHUKAR BHI SAR SEE UTREGA ;

PAR AB KYA BATAE JANAB KOO ,

DEKHE UNHE  TOH MANO EK ARSA SAA HOO GAYA;

PAR AAJ BHI WOO HAR EK PAL ENN SANSOO  ME RAVA HAI;

AAJ BHI IS DIL ME BAS UNKI HI JAGAH HAI;

UNKI YAD ME AAJ BHI RAATE KATHI HAI HAMARI;



FARK BAS ITNA HAI HAMARI CHAHTE EK DUSRE SEE JUDAA HAI….
AO Baghi Dec 2017
Aj phir likhne ko dil chaha
chun k gehry alfaaz se
kyun phir rone ko dil chahy
bach kar sab he fasaad se
azab hain ye din do chaar se
har mor par har ik jazbat se
aj likhun mein apne bare
ya likhun sab kuch aap par
aap tw chor gaye choti c baat par
aap tw bhool gaye dekh k halat par
Aj phir likhne ko dil chaha
Aj phir yad kar k rona chaha
drishti Jun 2018
(SHE  IS  SAYING THESE  LINES WHEN HER  HUSBAND THINKS THAT HIS  WIFE  IS CHARACTERLESS),,,,,,,,

MERE  DIL KI BATAIN DIL MAI HI REH JAENGI,
TUM YAD KAROGY JAB TO SHYAD ANKHEN BHAR JAENGI,

JO TERI NAZRON MAI GALAT HU, KISI KO DHOKHA DEKAR CHHORA TO NHI MAINE,
KHATA  BHUT JISE MANTA HAI, TUJHE ANDAR TAK TODA  TO NHI MAINE,

GALATIA HUI HONGI, DHOKHA  TO  NHI DIA TUJHE,
MUJHE  ROZ GALAT  THEHRATA HAI, KABHI SOCHA HAI, KITNA DARD HOTA HOGA MUJHE,

TERE  LIYE MAINE  KHUD  KO MARA HAI, SHYAD TU KBHI NA KR SAKE,
MAINE  JO MITAEA HAI,  SHYAD  BIKHAR  KE  TU NA  SIMAT  SAKE,....
Interestingly enough, a city filed with intoxicating dress, yes, I like the chucks and baggy pants, no I do not wear it myself, but I appreciate the look, with the Giants hat, let me write you a vignette, techies tools talking bout tacky office gossip and girls they will never ****, bahaha and iPods ipods iPods fueling a sweet melody for the ride in boxcar boxcar. Yas yad yas

People going to and from work , quieter, contemplative, examining their tax returns, the hat pulled down straight

people, ticking, tocking, the images of content, staring up with amusement, the people talk of beer, of business, in seriousness, the pamphlets, the trends, counters, crawlers, beggars, in solitude, all of them

have


lovers, insecurities, mal adaptations, taking the drug that says that the life is alright, and thats alright

the little town looks so real to them, they, use the crosswalk, they, stop at the red stop sign, they, don't make eye contact, because their purpose is

to purpose, their purpose is their power lunch, a power lunch, of a sandwich, what of a sanwhich?  and what does that have to do with the urban life?  

the power meal, designed with purpose, for purpose, in chairs that are made for rain, in intersections made for walking, in red lights made for stopping

and aliens must be amused, by the order, the roots must be...facinating
Lawrence Hall Oct 2018
To be submerged in world and Word, in Word
That is the world, in words that are the Word
Written in holy fire, the eternal Song
In which and through Whom the world is breathed into being

The Torah scroll unrolls the years of creation
The pages of the Talmud frame the law
As in the statute-structure of the ark
Or as a tabernacle of the soul

To read the words, to chant the Word, to sing -
To be the yad in the great Hand of God
Michael John May 2020
may day
yay mad
(ay ay dm..)

mad yay!?
may day
ya ya md-

dam!ayya!!
yam yad....
yad yam...

dya mya
ma da yy..
day may

d a y m a y
d a y m a y
d a y m a y..
Nidhi Jaiswal Aug 2020
Mano to jeevan ek chah hai
Mritu ek kathor sach
Jo aaya hai so jayega
jise koi jhutla nahi sakta hai

☘☘☘
koi hamare liye fool bo jata hai
Aur koi hamare liye kanta
par in fool bone walo ko hm marke bhi bhula nahi pate hai
Aur kanta bone walo ko yad karke bhula dete hai
hamme kya kami hai jo in fulo ki jagah kante bo jate hai
Aur ye kante aane wali pidhi ko bhi chubha de jate hai
._
☘☘☘☘☘
i had been written this poem when i 'm in class 6th.
Today i remember it,this is based on my own thoughts.
Jo bhi iss duniya me aaya hai usko kuch eaise kam karne chaiye jisse ye duniya unko marke bhi bhula nahi paye.
padhne ke liye sukriya.
Thanks for reading.
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2023
before i sit down to the... how (is it)
   how my mother usually
words it: pięknie, ślicznie, prozaicznie...

  beautifully, beautifully, prosaically...    

            (how how = howl)

śliniak - baby bib...
  ślimak - snail: a garden essential
if cabbages get chopped on the guillotine...

etymology or rather: the similarity of spelling
of words...

piekło - hell...

                      i'm thinking hard about soft machines,
i was trying to find william burroughs'
the soft machine
    in my library, stashed it somewhere deep
so had to resort to mind-bending alterations
to cite his style:

but not yet...
    from the river Jordan to the Mediterranean sea...
of what is known at least i know
a Palestinian is a Philistine is a Philistine
  
geb nodrap, nodrap, said watt, geb nodrap
dis yb, nem owt. yad la...

        such is Beckett...

thinking about the soft machines in hard machines:
about algorithms in computers
no modern novelist with a clue
as to programming, coding...
   bullet shining and diamond biting quality testing

a hack in googlewhacking and
years ago i hacked an iPod the wrong way...
had a bunch of scratched CDs... copied them
into an mp4 format, shoved them into the iPod
and what happened?

the iPod crashed... ****** it right there
right done and proper...
did the same with some lesser known player
with an mp3 format... scratches audible
but the hardware was intact...

like now, hacking my samsung s8....
   get frequent messages about moisture getting into
my USB port... hardly...
the phone is old and by "capitalistic" standards
of new **** newer **** newest ****
"needs" replacement... no... it doesn't...

(all misnomers in "quotes": have to air them out
like ***** sheets)

hit the restart button and once the the second
loading screen comes on
plug in the USB and the phone recharges just fine...
but (i) still have to hack the hardware
while the soft machines update themselves: pronto...

i'm using chatGPT to do the custard churning
of content for me...
and i use sololearn for stretching
punctuation marks
into flying paper rides into 3D...
like so:

<p>paraphrasing</p>
<button>grease</button>
    {else
/^exchanging results>/
            ]wormholes[
but that's still basic trimming:
i'd rather be in the garden
doing so autumnal cleaning -
spring cleaning in the house
while the garden requires autumnal cleaning:
pretty neat...

             oh the joy of knowing a slavic language
and a germanic language: perfect fusion...
for nuancing furthest apart, historically speaking:
borrowing from the 20th century...

щ is szcz is also šč
  (******* pressed on qwerty s then
ring finger pressing down on 3
index finger pressing down on
c and the ring finger again pressing down on 3
for the crowns)

    the only languages where these sounds
couple together (or at least, that i know of) -
дeщ - deszcz -
but there's something inherently wrong with
the Russian script -
you actually want for the transliteration
to be complete...
as was the case with the transliteration
of Greek into Latin...

namely the following letters:
a e m
              i mean: kudos on transliterating
iota into и...
      
but a bit lazy, drunk almost,
          having left a and e intact... and m (μ)
α ε.

       evidently you wouldn't use ε if you already
used it for з ζ (zet o zet)
and i understand that O is infinitely
un-transliterate-able...

л λ...

             sore sight for sore eyes... this unfinished
Russian script...
it could be finished like so:

    ɐ ǝ         borrowing from я

which would leave m in the hands of...
well...

if not the myslite or something akin...
given the mu is hμ

hunch: i.e. hmm...
                ღ           (georgian ghani
or ო            oni
     or even ლ    lasi)

then again... how about armenian?
ah... borrowing the armenian π:

պ...

   boy...

  мальчик could become

պɐльчик

                        all hypothetical stuff...

դեշճ

                   or via mkhedruli (st. george)
ᲓᲔᲷ (schva - ooh... ease in a sh for heaven's sake,
welcome the reaper) -

which is still rain... implying it was a happy sunny
day in England and i'm scribbling this down

brzeg: the shoreline.... a marriage of george
and armenia...

                                                      բᲯեᲒ

so much for ceasefires and fanatical marches
with ******* star of david "transliteration"
placards are brandished by supposedly very sensible
people...

to alleviate my confusion i had to watch a historical
programme on t.v. about the history of the ᛋᛋ
because i'm quite frankly a little confused
like i might be with a quiet quite...
                                                  easy mistake...
oh yes, i do mean the glam black Hugo Boss ᛋᛋ...

but still in some wintry part of the world
a journalistic yawn:
                                   a bit like the narrative structure
is awry or the wrong sort of gambling
with memory
given the fright of pan am flight 103, 1988...
in the same year
       iran air flight 655...

                                           it's only a question of:
as a people with what narratives do we go forward,
i'm thinking of what narratives i keep...
clearly memory is a fickle beast
and eroded by memorising spelling
and basic arithmetic from an early age
my personal memory hoard is limited
as it should be: or shouldn't?

                    absolutely zero imagination...
   so switched from watching history to watching
charlie and the chocolate history
and became flooded with the memory of
Samuel - how we used to walk to school
almost every single day for a year or so...

how he loved Roald Dahl and how reading
really wasn't my thing...
maybe i was neglected as a child for not reading
books for children: out of self-neglect
because i passed straight into the minds
of Stendhal and Marquis de Sade...
                                and Plato... oddly enough...

ah... it would appear i'm ready:
to sit down to the mind-custard of prosaic
NVQ level 3 coursework in
spectator safety... officially supervising teams:
on paper... since technically already doing
the practice.
Maddy Dec 2019
The Holocaust never happened?
Ask those with numeric blue on their arms
It doesn't wash off neither do the memories shoes and teeth
It is ignorance and lack of education
Or is it?
Auschwitz,Birkenau,and others
Try looking up the name of a descendant on the Yad Vashem website
They list the names and how they perished
Imagine if it was your family?
It happened and hopefully will never happen again
See Chanukah is coming and though the holiday is happy and light
There is darkness when human beings deny it ever happened
"One for each night they shed us with light to remind us of days long ago."

C@rainbowchaser2019
We celebrate both holidays because
what's in a name what's in a name
in the end
within a name there is no name
but a pre-noun and a pronoun
and          that glorious word THING
and boomerang not a boomerang
of I to It
           to I as It           and It a non-It
a spoke
              the spokes in a wheel...
a wheel is an Ezekiel
                     is my first learning of the name:
little Yash                 and jesz? i.e.
are you eating?    my words my silences
my atonement for say:
the miraculous spring afternoon
finding myself enjoying the act of reading:
regardless of what i'm reading:
or rather i am actually reading Frank Herbert's
Dune but i should be reading
al-Masudi's the meadows of gold
and currently that's a first edition
on amazon going for
£47.99
            so until i get a wife and a surrogate
daughter i can and will splash out
on books in the purchasing window
of £30 to £50 and since i'm not rich
enough of rich-autistic enough
or autistic enough
to be splashing on paintings
like that story of the founder of Barbie
no not Ruth Handler
before pornographic magazines
the Swiss invented the Susie Susan Sour-****
to gag men into
the predicaments they found themselves
in as world war ii bomber pilots
then came the infamous poster reel
from Shawshank Redemption and
boys those girls those flinging-mig-magic jazz
of ****
those lonely nights
and days
but mostly the nights
and on my 38th birthday i masturbated
like 3 times
because a day prior i was talking
to a friend outside of the Spurs' Coliseum
and we talked about being 38 and 72
and cancer of the prostate and how he got
it removed and now can't get an *******

i would have killed to venture into
the ear to eye osmosis
of being at the
Boris Brejcha at Arènes de Nîmes...
artist to artist
this is not me Matthew Arnold
a limp **** poet
crying to bed after seeing Liszt play
because music has changed
and there's no genius of music
but a genius of music-inclusion therapy...
"therapy" / therapy?

Friday came a little late: now that i'm imagining things,
writing on a chrome book
in my own room i remember days
when i used to drink a liter of whiskey
and write from 10pm to 5am
having given up smoking marijuana
at the age of 21 weighing in at 65kg
after an experience
with: what i'm guessing...
not Jesus and not Yashwa...
but rather: and i only learned of his name today:

dualism of monotheism: the little yahweh...
                       A

           E          Y         I                   𐤃

                                                   ∇
                  O       U

yad dah...
           YDDH...

                     turbulent lessons in how the consonants
are props and vowels drift in and out
to allow for Semites to transliterate nouns
Semites need to transliterate nouns
which cannot be said
of Matthew of Mateusz of Mateo
but Matthias says it's possible...

the angel: Metatron...

                        i'm seeing Mega:
like the movie Tron (updated like Dune updated)
and the soundtrack and something megalomaniac...
like the affairs of non-existence
of supposing within
pre-noun pronoun
preposition and proposition
are so why can't a pre-noun
exist before i learn the names of things
before i inject conjunctions and adverbs
big and small
i usher in a chemical laboratory of
Ar Na Cl He Fe
no Ar...

natrium chlorum
    helium            ois

                 ferrum...

terra ferrum: iron earth
                              in akimbo venturing for
broken bones and fixation on bones
206 of these...
and i overheard that Muhammad Ahmed
knew the exact number of bones
in the human body (does that include the teeth?)
32 teeth...
   that's 9 vowels and 23 consonants
in the Polish alphabet...
bad tooth England only has 26 letters
and boast all it can about Latin VQ
it does not have...

oh not bones then joints
i heard about the number 350 being cited...
although i sometimes wonder
about O and little o
of degrees and that's really thinking about
the 0 and to the power of
infinity is infinity oscillating in
a duality: even and especially if it's
a monotheism:
why then o why i wonder
at the predicament of Islam
because it is not out simple migration
but the excesses of Dubai must
be hitting the average muslim hard
if they be wanting to move with us
European paupers, no?
us drunken savages we are savages
and we returned to our pagan ways
just as i might have predicted why
Poland defended the pagan power
of Lithuania and why Christianity
never really spread to certain parts of Europe
but was kept in check by some
Russian Greek or Varangian...

i saw it in his eyes when his father
head-butted one of this soldiers
i'd bet i will put a bet on, everything i have...
on Usyk beating Fury...
the odds?

Fury 5/6 ahead of Usyk at 11/10
strange numbers...
i saw Bohun in his eyes
the cossack romantic figure in Sienkiewicz'
with Fire and with Sword...
yes saw it and this is the only sport
i'd bet on with a heart of a gamble
beyond the £1.00 threshold
unlike Bukowski betting on horses
i did similar antics
betting on scores in football...
but nothing major always stingy no greater
thrill than earning money
and saving money
and then spending it on kayaks or canoes
or books or compact disks or
£12 summer dresses and what not
however the trend is these days
last time i tried tapping into anything
relevant on the internet
but same old:

men, bears and £12 summer dresses
that are like the rule
pulled up in the forest on the sly
with no suspenders or tights
just the suntanned skin with no wintry
attaches of still ***** still
playing chess still not playing
backgammon still no chess
unless with a kid
and i loved how i saw the engineering
of AI in chess games
and how the kid was losing and
just because she's a girl doesn't mean
i'll let her win
or that i'd let her win no because
i didn't but i don 't mean playing
chess with a ****** partner
or watching t.v. with her
because no unless there might be physical
dimensions askew like how could
we possibly do it, physically speaking
i mean how could we when we couldn't
and that would be her licking
the eyepop pop-sickle sickly sweet
no teeth grandma ***
or me and her already wrinkled *****
slurping oysters
Bang Dan... Bang Dan... sounds Vietnamese...

why would: ah: authenticity...
38 outside the range
but in the range 21 - 35 have to complete
3 months of agricultural labour
to qualify as citizen of Australia...
i think that's rather nice...
i only submitted the form on a whim
but i received no automated response...
instead a Jamie Chirpseer
got in touch: apparently they have been calling

now i don't know but
last time i "measured"
that's only an 8h50 flight from Auckland
to Hawaii
so i'm thinking why set my foot behind
a door with a mother in law
watching scoop me up Jesus
t.v. and being all paranoid about my status
as ******* on the closed enclosure
of Kauai
but i sure as **** threw a decent birthday
party by the pool
well shared but this is claustrophobic writing
i.e. claustrophilic my ego
says there is a cursor and pre-
to nouns so i'm cleared: cleared by I'II"
however many that is:
1 foot 11 inches last time i checked...
ego-**** that is: the little horn on my head
that turned into a hovering 360 degree eye spin...

seeing those last words written days
ago, happily discarded
now upon return with a pop-sensibility of aging
no new music but there are some unavoidable
stresses in neu alles neu: billy and eddy's
Lunch not naked Lunch not naked
all food in attire:
me sitting in a tuxedo and sneakers
with a baker boy's cap: some unifying piece of attire
whether you're at White Hart Lane
or whether at the Boleyn -
                  unifying attire like some distinction
between the Tribes of London gone out
of the window with the babies in a circus of bathtubs
falling from the sky
because raining cats and frogs
had all the dogs drinking from puddles of beer
morphing into hyenas - crying over Benson Boone
singing all god is jesus
and no god of a muhammad
there is no transliteration of tongues and words on
tongues and words not on tongues
but abstracted thought and missing in crosswords
because like a dyslexic being good with numbers
because is such a terrible word right
now...
but good in manners of speech: or is that speach
like i want to bite into a peachy apple
                         like crossbreeding happens and you
could craft champagne from thin air
breed a german shepherd and a spaniel
or what was used to breed a dachshund
from a dobermann...

   the Q and the Mark i.e.

                     Mark              +                Q(uelle)

                    ­                        =

                      Matt            ­   &              Luke

i came across people interested in religion and
the mammoth goliath that is Christianity
of conversation
and a revamp from the year 1945 from Egypt
the Nag Hammadi library -
and all that invoked by the Church Mothers
maybe another Frank Zappa moment if i could
sing but instead i found my voice
my voice in giving SIA a briefing after having
worked with stewards on a bag cordon
at Wembley...

now how to find respite, next day the cycle
still not fixed so house bound
at least able to wash the bedsheets
and hang them in the garden of sunlight
to then dress the bed once more in all that air
and wool
like floating sheep and perhaps horses with
wings
and perhaps apes to
and perhaps men with four arms and no more
than two feet
and perhaps wheels and fire and the internet
and printing and copying
and all that towers and gardens from Tokyo
to Baghdad -
                               cascade of the human experience
ethics is apparently objective
well i could have sown the swearing ogre oath
i loath in **** me **** me oh **** me
jurisprudence is subjectivity par excellence...
so rarely do you have judgement by the peers
by the jury: jurisprudence -
instead English law and the barrister
and judge and triangles of politics -
i hardly speak in the court of law -
perhaps fellow human will allow
me to think before god:
perhaps i can think before god
if i can't speak in the court of law if i can't speak
in the court of man then perhaps
i will be able to think in the court of god:
at least there's hope with me writing this down...

yes, i put a weird bet on two nights ago...
Tyson Fury vs. Olek Usyk...
bets on, whatever the algebra of gambling
5/6 and 11/10 as a decimal:

      0.8333                  and 1.1111

ニ: 0.747747748
      ホ: 0.9213

if i were to see mathematics with letters,
notably division by the first number
and multiplication by the second numbers
(Ni                   **)

but at least no muddle with too many numbers
like too many notes in Mozart's
'seph II  Holy Roman Emperor (1765-1790)

    ヨーヨー                 (yoo yoo toy boy not
yo! or yo-yo                but no ideogram?

let me rummage...)

                         bandalore... idea: image at least
some     :)                  or some :'(

      maybe get a hummingbird tattoo on my neck
in devotion to the Aztex i.e.  Huītzilōpōchtli

pero āmo tēchentenderoa lo que tlen
tictoah en Nahautl                                 TLEN:
oxi         oz                       oxygen-c-c

                           TKANKA: tis            tss tis tss
Sue: Ssue...                   SS: Ś
                    i.e. tissue:
                                                       /ˈtɪʃ.uː/ /ˈtɪs.juː/

maybe a truly phonetic poem
or a truly transliterated biblical text
a snippet only a snippet because i have enough
of a day to live to spend another hour
or so in akimbo or on my knees
before the writing desk that's my bed
no no: but a short equip-me "poem"
a quirk like a sneeze to base my focus on tissue
and SS i.e. Ś
and other instances i could possibly see it in
in the English tongue...

all of a sudden working with Pakistanis, Bangladeshis
and the Sudanese is or can ever be
about a white English boy with some
post-colonial stresses and ancestry questions
about why the former Commonwealth
Empire imploded and no wonder
given the Civil War in Sudan
why then complain about the English i wonder
but i don't have that problem
given no one can really look sensibly accusing
the Polacks of imperialism and colonialism
base mention of Mongols and the Ukranians
while the Lithuanians dwarfed under Russian Stalinism
and what remnants of German blood
fused during the northern crusades
to give birth to a German fusions of
Estonians, Prussians, Latvians and the Fins
at least we know that the Prussian pagans steered
the gentle happy german soul
for some time or so the romanticism goes...

                  this is still writing under the influence
of Billie Eilish's LUNCH on repeat:
the glad days of my 20s spent never speed dating
not really singing sad songs of psychopathic love triangles
and later sycophantic bare minimum poetry
yuck cringe and are we of the first people
to be given a literacy adventure in proficiency?
so my little historical debrief:
well... it's all funny how i too came on a banana boat
with the rest of them
that astounding reflection of a Pakistani from Luton
born and bred with mosque like a seashell brought
along in the night of the crimson moon
the LESBIAN flag of ISLAM
i.e. the marriage of the girl moon and Venus...
because isn't that "star" with the crescent not Venus
unless that's Venus with a scimitar
and who was the woman of the origins of Islam
running between two hill tops with her son
looking for water?
Hajarah and concubine of Ibrahim?

              at the diner with Ismail having no dinner
but food for thought
in some absent heaven and in some absent hell
but rather in a limbo of grey objects
and a blistering itch of sunshine that
turns a hyperbolic white skin of the north
a golden serpent glee
and invokes spying for the Greeks or ancient
Romans in Lebanon
with: mind you: with all those Pale Orthodox Jews
might just fit in...
but wait: i digress... i've been looking for an ideogram
for a yo-yo... wasn't i?
a yahoo too: a yo-yo playing with a yahoo
when there was whey and rye and lasso and spey
and whatever way was in the where...

          ilocano: aj aj: moje kolano

         (exercise in pain onomatopoeia
         and possessive article: moje / mine
         noun: kolano / knee)

oh yes... and a rubric of the bets i made on the Tyson
Usyk match-up... tailors to the glove
a dash of Polansky on the ring...
left right tango with tango of men
so rough **** so not like ******* a woman
so unlike...

thus:

    no yo-yo: but axle:                        軸
my guess is as good as anyone's
with however many confines of
//     \ |               |||          /|/|/      \|\|\

to quiz up a T                 or an L
let alone an O because so rigid have to swim
to Yippon for the proper edible tongue

now to reveal the Gambler and how i will never be
able to write yet admire
a Hemingway and a Bukowski...

Usyk by technical decision (100/1)
stake... £0.10
Fury by technical decision (100/1)
stake £0.10
Usyk by disqualified opponent (100/1)
stake £0.10
Fury by disqualified opponent (100/1)
stake £0.10
Usyk by decision of technical decision (2/1)
stake £5.00
net return £10.00
Usyk by KO, TKO or DQ (5/1)
stake £5.00
return £0.00

any anyone who might read the newspapers
would tell you
the decision was crystal clear, scientific,
on the margins, within talk of inches and decimals
and... ooh... itchy...
115-112, 114-113 to Usyk
and 114-113 to Fury...

rematch? what is now to be disputed is by winning
through that bet i made: 5/1
or rather 5:1 but ratios would be any less if
using a colon?
                               enough bark to patch up a
cagey sneer and then return to kiss daylights: out
because now somewhat disputable
in the arena or the courtroom
better judgement watching sport
than those daytime zombie land drug-shows
of the courtroom melodrama soaps
and operatic demand for feeding the collective
consciousness split seconds per day
accumulating into binge potato peeling of skin
and intellect on the sofa...
even now: hardly a waste of good coffee
   and tobacco...                with the added "spice"
of BIMBER... beam-bear to spread out the letters
and transliterate: not to imply anything beside
the phonetic arrangement
of the letters as beam-bear: it's still the meaning
behind BIMBER the sweet 45% *****...

(q)uelle: yet there is hardly a similar problem
associated with Socrates...
given the accounts by Plato
Xenophon oh and let's not forget Aristophanes...
especially him
because he was hardly all luvvy-dabbling in
writing works of just fiction...
satire of the lowest man in the village as it were...
well:

who wouldn't have said:

     pleasure is not only unnecessary,
     but a positive evil

i too have had the pleasurable burden and agony
of being able to cite
maybe saying maybe not saying
either way experiencing:
i'd rather be mad than feel pleasure -
further still what of pleasure and happiness
as distinctly opposite or not:
re-imagines (i)
                         the recently digested divulging
on meanings
constricted to words like guilt
and shame...                   thus too:
happiness and guilt                           pleasure and shame.

— The End —