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Johnny Noiπ Oct 2018
A warning about your strength to perform this one. A glass of wine is in demand. To write, write, write, write, write, write, write, write, write. School, telephone number, name and surname and telephone number (or surname) and memory. I do not know. The school system continues. Help flights between files. From a lawyer. We, however, all these things. 72 July 80 pm 09:07 and 19:01 Nero; John Fox News, and the third verdict 1. an annoying warning. This one at night, and I have to drink, and I'm drunk. To write, write, write, write, write, write, write, write, write. School, telephone number, name and surname and telephone number (or surname) and memory. I do not know. However, children do not have the same opportunities. Help flights between files. From a lawyer. We, however, all these things. September 7 21:07 Nero 7 to the rest of the third message, John wants and the referees 1. The chairman may also have many blodsutgjutningar. Rotter necessary changes in the company program. Please, go to Kenya. April 7 and July 8. Alex and mayor, 7, 11, and then leave. Walter and water - January 8 - Erasmus, Erasmus _ * 3 steps. 3 3 4 5 6 7 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 John Fox, journalist, news, Federal Communications Officer World, 99 (Julius Caesar, government and other rotating equipment 2). 5) 1, Washington agreed to act as a network of insurance companies in Washington. Serbia, Sydney, Rotterdam, Kenya, 8 April, Alicja. 7, 7 in the sun. On September 2, 2000, the changes affected the system operation on that day. Please, go to Kenya. 7 And Alex is bigger than 8, 7, 11 July and more. Walter and water - December 8 - Erasmus, Erasmus _ _ * 7 IPSANAN Consulting. 1 7 7 7 7 7 7 7 7 7 7 Julius Caesar (Julius Caesar 2, another runner, merchant and other military) up to $ x. British designers John Fox, Fox News 80 80 (7) 1, a Dutch calm conference. Serbia, Sydney, Rotterdam, Kenya, 8 April, Alicja. July 7, September 7, 2000. Asia: ____ and two massages Comments: Good support Laden (Erasmus) will provide space and seven research institutes. July 07 July 07 July July July July 08.07.88 Julia Julia Erasmus Rotterdam, 7 March 07 March and 7 July? Kenya has a serious life in a million women around the world. _ ____? Foxe John News, July 7 (New York) announced elections to the American elections. 9 months and 9 Nero, Jan / paid. You can enjoy the night. Rotterdam, that's all. This information may be in Kenya on July 7, July 8 and July 12. This is Jud. 7 April and 7 April 7.77. War July 8 July World 2 was released (Caesar). Erasmus Rotterdam supports society within its framework. July 1, January 1, January 1, January. Hailu also signed Smith. In other words, there is no change in a hot, hot and warm leader. You must provide a wine registration form even at night. To write, write, write, write, write, write, write, write, write. School, telephone number, name and surname and telephone number (or surname) and memory. I do not know. Now the boy's education. Help flights between files. From a lawyer. We, however, all these things. July 9 has good news: 7-2 deeply informed. John Fox News and the third of the judges. Programmers of the Senate 1. Chairman of the Supervisory Board. Awning for a change. Please, go to Kenya. April 7 and July 8. Mercury Alex, 7, 11 and more. Walter and water - January 8 - Erasmus, Erasmus * 3 steps. 3 4 5 6 7 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 7 July (2 June) and fiercely try to sell $ x through the television system. Representative John Wills British developer and honest, 99 (5), and snow in Washington to the network. Serbia, Sydney, Rotterdam, Kenya, 8 April, Alicja. Sunday 7 May. July 2000 Asia: ___ and two massages. Erde (Erasmus) provides space for seven research activities. July 7 to July 8, July 1, 80 Italian, Kenya, Julia's Power peak warning. The exploration appears in the same heart's night ušes of wine; Write, write, write, write, write, write, write, write, write, write. School, phone number, phone number written name (name or words) and memory. I do not know. At the same song, ideas and access to education. Help air traffic between files. He is a lawyer. We have all these things. July 7 80 9 7 1 7-2 Nero, John Fox News, Third Force Blood Our President and Judges 1. It is important for the team. Changes to the Rotary demanded Mathilda's HOUSE program today. Please live in Kenya. July 7th and July 8th. Alex Mercury on May 7, 11th, and continues. Walter and Water - August 8 - Escaped from Erasmus, Erasmus _ * 7 IPSANane Test Panel. Return 7 7 7 7 7 7 7 1 The earthquake was started on Sunday, July 7 7 7 7 July 7th July 7. Your purchase (2 Julius Caesar in Rotterdam and other sellers, dealers, Julia) sold for $ x is a barrier to the state . Run British designer John Fox News City 99 80 (7) 1, Dutch communication network ice planning. January, Sydney, Rotterdam, Kenya, April 8, Alice. May 7th, 7th day, the sun. July-September 2000 ____ Walter and Water Irrigation Two Comments Rotterdam (Erasmus) provides access to seven research processes. July 7, July 2, July 7, 8, 80, 80, Kenya, Restaurants and Julia Julia 77 Erasmus Rotterdam July 7, April and May 7? Kenya is one of the more than 1,000 women's side effects of globalization.
Johnny Noiπ Oct 2018
_ ______ 11 Light? On July 7, John Fox News Channel 2 is bigger than the seven big UK election officials. Nero, in 1980, some members of the military and the army go to what was written with guns. Military training. Erasmus, Rotterdam, Roger's Businesses lost tonight. I live in Kenya. New information on July 7th and July 8th. 7th, Thursday is dedicated to the children of the people every day on July 11th. This was a Jew. Two containers with water in front of God. August 8 Erasmus Rotterdam July 7 _ _ _ * Evenson Marcus' Thebes study July 7 and September 2, the test group, July 7 and April 8, 777 St. Julian emperor , Kenya Second World War, olive oil JuliãoLas van Erasmus No. 7, I would like to say, I will say that it is your time, you are talking: It is not a figure of 6, so Will not I cast? What will be done in the last of July 7, July 7, July 7, Julius Caesar, Rotterdam (Rotterdam) July 7, Julius market, nurse, Alice, wind fish) What? Kenyan style forms the stage of the world - 1000 fires and women sold $10,000 at $10,000 with the help of a high yellow head at the end of the fear of others. _______ 11 light? July 7, John Fox News Channel 2 greater than 7 Big UK election director. Nero, the 1980s, some of the rifles go to the army and to the army goes a written statement. The military training. Erasmus Rotterdam Roger's business uses tonight. I live in Kenya. July 7, July 8 new information. Children 7 to 11 people every day and Thursday in July. The promoter, Alice says. This was a Jew. Two buckets of water in front of God. August 8 Erasmus Rotterdam on July 7, _ _ _ _ * Epson Marcus's crowning research; September July 7 & 2, the test group ;July 7 and 8 April, 777 St. Julian, Emperor 80 to 80 for the doctor Osulin in July; Erasmus of Rotterdam in the forests of Rotterdam, longing for Kenya the second world war, olive oil Julian Las van Erasmus No. 7, I want to, I say to everyone is done, hour, that speak ye: for: for they were not _ did not drive out the number 6? July 7, July 7, the anger, July 7 (Julius Caesar in Rotterdam (Rotterdam) July 7, Julius fish market nurse, Alice's air) What happened? 1000 is a fire, women and sold lost $100 to $10,000 with the help of yellow hair on the high end of fear of anybody - Kenyan Style mold behind the world scene. ______ 11 light? July 7, John Fox News Channel 2 greater than 7 Big UK election director. Nero in 1980, some members of the army and the army goes to gun-written. The military training. Erasmus Rotterdam R. business uses tonight. I live in Kenya. July 7, July 8 new information. 7, Jupiter and is dedicated to the people, every day, on 11 July Promoter: Alice says. This was a Jew. Two containers with water in the presence of God. August 8 Erasmus Rotterdam on July 7, _ _ _ _ * Epson Marcus research Thebes; July 2 to August 7, the test group, July 7 and 8 April, St. Julian, the Emperor's doctor Osulin 80-777 to 80 in July, Erasmus, the forests, hoping to Kenya the second world war, olive oil Julião Las van Erasmus No. 7, I want to thing I do is that all the things which happened on the hour, that speak ye: for it is the number of the 6 _ _ I went to his justices and I have not put them away? July 7, July 7, July 7, at the rage (Julius Caesar's Commentaries Two Rotterdam (Rotterdam) July 7 Julius fish in the market, the nurse, Alice air) What is it? 1000 afire and women lost $100 sold for $10,000 with the help of yellow head into the deep end and fear - Kenyan style molds the world stage.
Johnny Noiπ Oct 2018
You have control. Ask, write, write, write, write, write. Home name, phone number, first name and last name, phone number, family name (or name) and one memory. I do not know. The program will continue the game. Tomorrow to upload the files. From lawyer. All of these functions. July 7, 2007 Jul 19, 9, 19; 1 Nero John Fox News and his third party information - 1. Fear of attack. Not to work at night, I'm not happy. Writing, writing, writing, writing, writing, writing, writing, writing, writing. Home name, phone number, first name and last name, phone number, family name (or name) and one memory. I do not know. However, there is nothing else. Tomorrow to upload the files. From lawyer. All of these functions. At Nero 7 pm and 9-mail 1 John, President, most people must decide Blodsutgjutingar 7-9 Jul 7. To change the campaign. I like Kenya. July 8, 7, 7, 11, for the purpose; And Alex is independent. Walter and the water - January 8 - Erasmus Erasmus - three degrees. 3 3 4 5 6 7 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 John Fox, journalist news, news, communications, decided to work with Federal 99 (Julius Caesar, government and other OS 2 support) 5, Washington Broadband Corporation and the firm guarantees the future. Cyprus, Sydney, Rotterdam, Kenya, Monday, April 8, Alice. 7 7. On September 2, 2000, this device will be back in the day. I like Kenya. Alex was 7, 8, 7, 11 and at least seven years old. Walter and Water - August 8 - Erasmus, Erasmus - 7, IPINAN. 1 10 7 7 7 7 7 7 7 7 7 $ Julius Caesar (Julius Caesar 2, other marine champions, spring and other parts). English, John Fox, Fox Fox 80 80 (7) 1, Dutch Dutch conference on peace. Cyprus, Sydney, Rotterdam, Kenya, Monday, April 8, Alice. July 7, 2000 Asia - Support and Erasmus University support and seven research centers. Jul 7 July 7 08.07.88 Julius Erasmus Roet April Fourth, April, April, 7th, 7 days? Kenya has arrested millions of women worldwide. _? Fox, John News, July 7 (New York) - announces the US election. September 9th. You can enjoy the clock even until evening. During rotter, that may be. This information may be on July 7, 12, July 12 Judith Kenya. 7.77 April 7 and April 8 July 7. Days after the war ended (Caesar). Rotterdam Erasmus program in adulthood. July 1, July 1, July 1. In other words, there is no difference between deep science and fire. The application form of wine. Writing, writing, writing, writing, writing, writing, writing, writing, writing. Home name, phone number, first name and last name, phone number, family name (or name) and one memory. I do not know. Children now have school. Tomorrow to upload the files. From lawyer. All of these functions. Jul 9: Good News: 7-2 High. Number of Judges News and John Foxx. 1. Members and do the work. Changes. I like Kenya. 7th and 8 July at Wireless Alex Walter and water for 7, 11 - Eight 8 - Erasmus, Erasmus in the third year. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 4 10 is the most expensive weapon available for sale. John's representatives liked a good relationship with Washington, Washington, 600, 99 (5). Cyprus, Sydney, Rotterdam, Kenya, Monday, April 8, Alice. July 7, 2000 2. Brade (Erasmus) provided seven research and seven trucks. July 7 - July 8, 80, Italy, Kenya, Julia is short of the song. Check to check the oral oil at the same time in the evening. Writing, writing, writing, writing, writing, writing, writing, writing. School, phone number, name, and phone number (or name) and a memory. I do not know. Such age, ideas, education. Helps air traffic on black soccer. The business, even you, did all these things. Jul 80: 7-2 1 9 7 7 Nero, John Fox News, 3, 1. President of Healing of a Vehicles. Now it is a question from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology that defines the Menthol tractor's method. Please stay in Kenya. · April 7 7 July 8. Walter and Water Continue on Wednesday, November 5 - December 8 - Evans Erasmus, Erasmus IPSA NAN Weight 7.7 7 7 7 7 1 1 Internet devices.
Johnny Noiπ Oct 2018
_ ______ 11 Light? On July 7, John Fox News broadcast two channels in seven US elections. In the 1980s, Nero and Nero's weapons were discovered. A night break can be light. Erasmus' Rotterdam is a symptom. This information came from Kenya on 7, 8 and 11 July. The decision was made by Juliette. He was a Jew. Give water to both drugs. On July 5 and 8 in Alexandria, April 7, Julia Caesar (Julia Caesar) marked the second world war on July 7, at 7.77 dollars. Erasmus' Rotterdam participates in different forms. July 7, July 7, July 7 César Roter idēmi On July 7, I will write the example of John Fisher's energy improvement with John Fisher late sentence. Paper, pen, accessories or the like. Write a letter by writing, writing, writing, writing, writing, writing, writing, writing and writing. Write letters, contacts, contacts, emails, letters, sentences (words and work) by writing to Alessandro. I do not know how to do it. You can delete the same words, songs, pictures, thoughts, words, lessons and lessons. The details follow each Ethernet address from the previous file. I did not need a licensed doctor. We agree with this agreement. July 7, president of John Foxx of the News 7-2 Nero in the 1980s, the 3rd Supreme Court, and in the blood. This company is a third party. The Erasmus program in Rotterdam is organized for this day. I live in Kenya. The new information starts on July 7th and 8th. The author, Alex Jupiter, was arrested on 11 July. He is Jewish, Giver of water to both drugs. August 8 - Erasmus, Erasmus April 7th   Epson participated in the sleep test group. Rotary settled on April 2 7 7 7 7 1 World War 1 July 7 and 7 and July 7 Saturday Julia Julia Olson July 7 Market Day (Market Comment Julius · Caesar 2 Rotterdam, Fish Market, Julia, etc.) We sold 10 dollars. The best bikini with thousands of whistles. Fire? The British legislative elections in the United Kingdom are called the John Fox News war (7) which influenced the city in the 1980s. 1 ... Eritrea, Rotterdam, Kenya July 8th July Alice speaks. The music is every day on July 7th. Jupiter is July this month. He is Jewish Give water to both drugs. Erasmus Rotterdam (Erasmus Rotterdam) 7 September 2000 ___ Epson also participated in this research. 7 July, 2 July 7 July, 8 April, Dieter 80, 80, 77 July World War I in Kenya, Dr. Erasmus Rotterdam Julia 7 July, 7 May in Alice An insurance? Kenya has a world economic level, women overheat, yellow-yellow signals continue for more than 1000 years.
Johnny Noiπ Oct 2018
1[            ]. 1[0] Lucenia? July 8, Government, July 7, July 7, Einstein, Julius main actions. Fox News The second director of the Jewish community. Here's a small amount of gold for ammunition, 80 soldiers and special features of military training. It's sick. Military training and military equipment are best Late. I have money, Erasmus, I have money, Julius Cesar in Rotterdam. Are you living in Kenya? August 8, New Information on July 7. 7. There are 7 points per day for children in September and Oct. New images of cities and fish are important. Alice is a expert, director of sports, horses, dogs, Jews and glory. Would you like to wear boots in a bag? What's happening in my mind? The difference of my daughter is bright around the lights, seeds and hair. I know they're all about colored skin, and that's hard. God is important to him. Please keep it slowly in boxes. Late. Why do adults send mail at the end of April 8? In fact, I know there's a problem. I like money. Erasmus and Julius Kaiser Rotterdam researchers. Are you living in Kenya? April 8? Posted on 7 July. The problem is a seven-day experience for a young man in September. God of Julius Epstein. What do you know about themes, themes, dogs, Jews, Tomorrow? I think it's not yours. My friend is the reason for light. God's Word is his weapon. Make safe applications. He is a military and that the world is selling rocks. M-Photo describes a negative device at her birthplace. Military and lifestyle. Rukenia? The eulogy of olive oil is September 10th and 8th August. Do not forget the biggest people in Julia. Erasmus Research in Rotterdam [11] Lucenia? July 8, July 7, July 7, Einstein's first job and Galileo. 80 military and military. It is all healed. There are 80 companies located between Rotterdam and Rotterdam. April 8? Jul 777. Between Julian Alice is the writer, singer, director, soul, horse, dog, Jew, glory. Would you like to wear a Dress Dress? What's happening in my mind? I call. At the end of April 8, adults grow up. Repair for light, seeds, hair. I like money. I like money. Are you living in Kenya on the first day of the first day? Rotterdam Erasmus Exploring Julius Kaiser Is you living in Kenya in October? Jul 7 This is a song for horses, horses, horses, dogs, people, people who are safe. She is your friend I have a friend with brightness, seeds, children. Check World War and Golds. The high mountains He is mighty and one man. Rukenia? The eulogy of olive oil is September 10th and 8th August. Do not forget that the biggest people in Julia. Erasmus question from Rotasdam asked. [11 |0] Lucenia? July 8, Government, July 7, July 7, Einstein and Julius. Fox News The second director of the Jewish Jewish community. Here's a small amount of gold for ammunition. 80 soldiers and specialized military battles. It's sick. Military training and military equipment are best. Later I will have money, Erasmus, I have money now, I have money, I left no money in Julius Cesar's Rotterdam apartment. Are you living in Kenya? April 8? Posted on 7 July. 7. There are seven days for children in September and September's New images of cities and fish are important. Julius Alice is a writer, nurse, file, speed, horse, dog, Jew, and glory. Would you like to wear your white Hunter boots in a bag? What's happening in my mind? The difference of my daughter is bright by light, seeds and hair. So they forget everything about colored skin; yellow, damaged. God is important to him. Please keep it slowly in boxes. Late. Why did the old man send a message at the end of April 8? In fact, I know there's a problem. I like money. Erasmus, Julius Kaiser's Rotterdam researchers. Are you living in Kenya? April 8? Posted on 7 July. Problems in seven days' experience in September as Assistant to Julius Epstein. What do you think about stories, themes, dogs, Jews, tomorrow? I think these are not her words. My friend is a source of light. God's Word is his weapon. Setting up safe applications, it has a war and space that sells gold and M-Theory photographs of art photography.
vircapio gale Jul 2012
"
"nor is this a fact," nor is my syntax the 'true.'
i can't use quotations in the way i'd like to,
to allow the paradoxical to seep through
in the sly act of revising 'this' honestly--
merging truth with falsity, to silently see--
grammar become a means to shatter certitude

"i can't tell the 'truth' with these ["i can't tell the 'truth'
with these{...} very words"] very words"; i really can't...
it's somewhat unfair to communicants, this rant.
let me bolster your trust by not telling it slant:
in fact, it's not poetry, not from this angle.
maybe when you read, this 'this' will be poetic?
meh, i'm relying on telling, not showing. so...
quiet's often better than such entanglement

but this is not about value, it's about truth.
sincerely, i doubt i'll keep those two separate

perhaps... if you pretend i'm a prolix parrot,
who happened through some acosmic accident
to be the transmigrated daimon-soul of Sappho,
or Hypatia, Gertrude Stein or Plath even...
(yeah, i'm like a Cretan for going on): they weren't,
'your gobbledygoo,' or 'Sweet sweet sweet sweet sweet tea.'
stripped bare at the Caesareum, being murdered
for the crime of godlessness or female wisdom
spoken in the scapegoat-hungry rule of Rome...
this is not what they were, not the whole truth, at all
and though from winds of ****** she spoke in verse
that her vast poetic fame 'was no delusion:'
and that, 'dead, I won't be forgotten,' i fail,
painfully fail,
to trace into a verbal womb
the seeds of those that transformed all, yet now entombed...
for to remember them in me is to revise,
reduce, sadly in that poetic untruth found...

"this" is a gestalt, i guess i'll have to say,
a "figure-ground," a floating 'shape' in some context,
one that you embody too, somehow, not in text;
even through a distant sharing, it's realized
(hold onto the random metaphors you find,
they're probably better than what's in my mind)
and to share this with you now, to hypocritize,
it's lunacy. i mean, the moon, the poetic moon
is not a meme, is not a custom, is not a poetic fact,
in fact, it's not in this poem, and if it were--
being televised with some authentic ontic pixel-space--
here between the lines augmented mOOn for you
it would prove how unpoetic the poem is, and how
very true the moon is, if it were here, right quoteunquote"here"
ineffably punctuated
            -- well, let me try
and fail again to make Erasmus proud:
the quotes would hang about romantic beams
parentheses to echo adjectival spectra streams,
an underscore horizonal and asterisks for stars.
but not these * asterisks,
or those_types of underscores--
better (parentheses) and far more "quothy" "quotes"--
the punctuation would literally ^punctuate^ the sky of my text.
time would stop.                                                            ­                   and that would be poetic.
you don't need to breathe, even; not this 'you,' in this moment
(the one i've failed to capture):
'i will put you on the moon' i say,
'and sit you buoyant by the buddha-astronaut, who,
in answer to the question sprinkles moondust in slow motion,
symbol-guiding realness, my "finger" for solution,
to present to you again, what is present to me now.
the Russian names, the rest of names, the 'face' some say cries, "sweetly,"
as if we could use the moon's sympathy,
or as if we should feel it for the white rock that elliptically defines us,
dances to our rhythm, (the tides, the ****** huntress)
the one that taught us to dance,
the one that taught us to yearn darkly in surreal eclipse
more hopefully for the chance of cataclysmic doom
some Greeks thought it was a disco ball, after enough *****, that Dionysian night,
some Greeks thought it was a disc,
like a coin that flipped just right
to match it's dance about our pearoid earth
in synchrony's anachronistic mirth.
i would lick each Bacchant clean to learn the mysteries of poem
i would lick each Bacchant clean. period. no music or noema known
this 'poem' is not a "poem"
in a very real sense
i did not make this,
nor did i compose or create it.
if you're not following it's ok, i'm barely there myself -- i'm trying to refer to...
the elliptical shape that certain publishers use
to refer to fundierung
the double-founding,
reversibility,
the flesh of passive
the flesh of active
enfleshed perceiving
the common meaning we contribute
but can't attribute to any source we express!
(however distorted) after the fact, yes! --
either all that, or the meaning you get from "this" act
doubly-enfolded, with two pairs of hands kneading the same dough,
two pairs of eyes weaving the same lOOm,
another Indra's net to sew,
in meaning you give now,
the techne of your reader's mind
and the meaning i'd wish to know,
if i were still writing what you are reading,
doing my best to ignore the title
and to write something worthwhile...

i do wish i could show it to you the way i love it in your own poetry,
but you would know that, already, without my love

without my unpoetic lack of facts, my rhymes.
free of poems, free to flout the literary sea.
free to be unwordly, and let the contradictions fly
"
-a version of the Cretan's or liar's paradox ('This sentence is false.') inspired this write and took on a life of its own and isn't meant to be an argument for anything. just an exploration of the problem of representation, a universal distrust of language and my associations. hope it didn't drive you crazy like it did me :)

-i quote Sylvia Plath's "Daddy", Stein's "Susie Asado", and Sappho's very short,

"I have no complaint"

I have no complaint
prosperity that
the golden Muses
gave me was no
delusion: dead, I
won't be forgotten
Sappho

-Erasmus wrote "Praise of Folly." the title alone comforts me

-when asked 'what is truth?' by one of his disciples, the buddha is said to have picked up a flower.

-our moon rotates at the same rate as its revolution (not sure why please inform me), so one side always faces us. the greeks thought it was a disc, literally. and when the Russians got to the 'backside' first, they got to name all the craters.

-noema:
the objective aspect of or the content within an intentional experience. NL, fr. Gk noema perception, thought understanding, mind, fr. noein to perceive, think
Nat Lipstadt Aug 2019
Alaska:
“though the whole world should be mad at once
though the elements should be changed, though the angels should rebel: yet verity (irrefutable truth) cannot lie.”  
                                                         ­                  Erasmus of Rotterdam

<> <>

for BJ Donovan, a fine, fine poet
<><><>

verity, irrefutable truth, cannot lie,
or belie it’s non-contradictory nature,
even, in a small airport, a one runway affair,
somewhere in Alaska
ribboned tween icy crags and dagger-ous peaks,
low cloud coverings of sub-zero visibility,
that inquire, in an indigenous tongue
of the flying fool pilots,

“really?”

if I or you ask me why I’m here,
Alaska,
the answers come in only three Heinz varieties,
true or false positive, no differentiation needed,
the other, is called
“one who doesn’t know how to ask”

you know him,
the simpleton, the simple one, me,
who can’t frame the question without

risking that he frame himself

betraying and displaying his woeful ignorance,
a veneered confidence of knowing so little about much

in the shed, a/k/a
‘the terminal,’ we wait,
me and an ex-Buddhist priest,
head stubble shaved, of course, round horn rimmed glasses wearing,
stone washed jeans blue, the color of his eyes,
reflecting mine as well as the blue glacier ice
surrounding us both, we,
the extraneous human eagle interlopers

showed him the Erasmus quote, provoking one of them,
thin lined, whimsical, eye-glinting smiles of those
who know the answer
to the knotty ones, or,
know better, that knotty questions one asks himself
when high up in the mountainous glacier ranges,
get answered just by silent patience

he smiled for an eternity of
at least five minutes,
my heart pulsating big time,
this modern man anticipating, in his calm, dulcet two tones,
his understanding of another ancient translating another,
even more ancient, speaking:

”the world is indeed mad,
through neglect letting the elements warp, glaciers melt;
the angels have indeed rebelled at the
foreseen fated falsehoods perpetrated,
verity,
torn asunder,
and the line between balance and imbalance,
so jaggedly ripped in too many places that verity a victim
so badly assaulted, its face is no longer identifiable by AI, worse,
so covered, dying, undiscoverable.

but you ask!
ask of yourself, asking of others, and tolerating
uncurled, uncut uncertainty, you retreat and reconsider,
this then is your answer!
it is the
ASKING,
that is verity, itself! there can be no lying thing in the
quest of questioning
that accepts, rejects, and unceasingly asks again^

this is a the only irrefutable truth and what it asks of you:

never accept the illogic of belief, let your own eyes be the best judge;
ask and ask thrice, be satisfied that being disastrously dissatisfied
is the norm, the mean,
the line toward a perfection that may not ever exist(ed)
for our flaws define us, thus so much greater is our truths when we
we reshape them, ourselves, for verity itself is not so hard to find,
but the finding of one self is too difficult for most


for asking is too painful,
too primordial, and why I am no longer a priest nor teacher,
but a simple observer of the answers that can be found in the
silences of places,
the Alaska’s inside of us,
where nature’s sets
an open table for anyone
wiling to just ask...”
8/18/19
S.I., N.Y.

^”It is not in the asking, but in the searching and wrestling that we gain clarity.”
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2017
thankfully Hamlet is taken to a couch,
that's hardly a sick-bed,
for we all know: psychiatry is half
of medicine, it breeds more ill men than it claim
to have cured.
and there be that thing, that shadow,
that resemblance of a man,
stalking the highlands, and drinking
at the Lochs...
until there are three,
under a street lamp with due walk,
and a brick wall near,
                         a man and two shadows,
one more full than the latter more fog,
    and the sudden thrill, as if being followed
by one's own unsuspecting guise...
           usurper strong, a Judas in a Judea...
asp tongue, wasp thought,
doubly piercing the status quo of today...
as said, by only a single word,
macbeth, macbeth, macbeth,
into the night, shrill of violins, shark-infested
airs of a witch's shrill cry at the black sabbath
around the fireplace...
    macbeth, macbeth: said: deep frozen
into the night...
   to a neared upon usher of equivalent tear...
avaunt! and quit my sight! let the earth hide thee!
(and hades resurrect thee!)
...
   against all that encompasses the noun zeus:
and fathering wisdom for care to lose repeated
cohorts of the titans sun, moon, gaia...
  aye, and a bold one, that dare
          look on that which might appeal to the devil
;
have you no care to not flog to these
past expressions, reading them,
as reading our modern undermining into
things of origami consort?
             folded, folded once more,
a piece of paper is a metaphor,
that blooms into the end result of it being
treated as metaphor... a piece of paper
given the status of metaphor, later becomes
   a paper-folded swan, and origami swan...
  that icon of monogamy...
           or how swans like to see it:
in sickness and in health, beyond death do us part...
ever look at a widow swan and not feel
a pang of hope to be given the altar of death
upon the crucifix mound?
        just a little bit?
who may i rather challenge for unkindness,
than pity for mischance!
-
        can one man's love affair be as short
as another man's play,
given the chemistry suggest that the man spent
the four seasons in the stated place of concern?
had i been invited to Erasmus Denmark,
my sparrow would have sung differently...
to a less Celtish drum of heart...
             and the man in question would
remain as curriculum material for a midsummer's
night, and romeo and juliet and shylock...
         here, we keep promises...
  just here... every time i read a philosophy book
of deep under-sea thinkers,
   i am the quasi-acuatic animal, a sly
mammal of the seas, a whale, a dolphin...
  every time i read a philosophy book,
and subsequently re-enter shakespeare...
i am that same old mammal keeping his breath,
to surge back toward the heavens of a sea-level
atmosphere...
                   i say: contend with reading philosophy
books to then reread your choice of shakespeare:
for me, nothing beyond macbeth...
    thus said: learn, to live again...
          as i have done on countless opportunities...
   i can not prescribe a most perfected dichotomy...
  oh sonnet so pale, oh other works so well preserved
that they encourage memory dementia
with a workload of pristine recitations...
     just a chance encounter, when psychiatrists
faded with Hamlet, that Macbeth arose from
the ashes and said: i stand as a sword firm in hand,
and i will not reach the safety of
   lounging in gleba...
                  to merely be a dead entertainer of
some obscure theory...
                     and with every instance
upon seeing the **** thing,
   my eye be blunt, and my tongue be sharpened....
likewise in reverse, concerning the same thing:
my eye be sharpened, but my tongue be blunt...
of these two essences, man first thought...
    and had only thought provided man with
a simple yes, or a simple no, wouldn't
the point of thought be more than if not less
bewildering than arguing from its own existence,
an existence of a god?
        not man, devoid of god crafted this deformity
to later impregnate an icon with...
       but man too bewildered by thinking,
that spawned this horror...
       of thought, thus said, no moral grounding,
but merely the numbing, the selective numbing
of the senses, as ailing man suggests,
the ailing via hearing,
   the hedonism feats suggesting exploration
of seeing...
   of feeling numbed, and apathy creeds to experience
as many people as possible...
   thought mediates the sensual-numbing we
all see... and none of thought, is concerned
with being injected into a moral theory,
since thinking is too simple, and a lie a too great
opportunity to be mislead into mis-use...
  for a simple yes and no - the theta-ought...
would not have spurned the phi-nought
    and if the senses are not duped,
then what story are we to be told?
            that might provide a throng, and an opulence
of a campfire for it to be tought?
to the last syllable of recorded time, said Macbeth.
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2017
after acquiring the english language,
and synthesising it for twenty years...
ugh... breakfast that is but a cup of water
and immediately feeling bloated...
or just imagining that you can live
on food and alcohol... like a diesel engine....
comes to just as much
     trying to catch butterflies akin to
nabokov, or thoughts...
      and are either, so trully necessary?
well... unless you take to calling it
the only relative opposite of picking up
a gun and shooting someone for no reason
other than a per se reason, which
subsequently has to be reasoned with -
akin to this...
  or, dare i say, picking up a philosophy book
and seeing how there is clearly
a child in there, esp. in english -
how each philosophy book seems to be
avoiding the pronoun i -
such is the nature of these books,
    a lot of hide & seek happening -
with the basic formula of: being yourself,
to avoid, your self.
then again as this french girlfriend told
me when she was staying in edinburgh
for a year to complete her erasmus program
from the university of grenòble
and she was doing this psychology experiment
and she needed native speakers...
  and i was given the stick for trying to
fake her science by suggesting that i'd do it...
yeah...
           well i really did hook up with her when
an american was about to court her,
and that's the only time i played the huinter-gatherer
role, or was motivated to do so,
when we went bar crawling and i pulled her
from the crowd and we stayed behind while
the group moved to another pub...
that was the only time i felt a need to do the "chase",
later this thing called the categorical imperative
came along, and i subsequently lost the impetus
to compete...
being a gladiator could have been greater,
what with the hardships of life...
but you can watch these gladiators fall...
quiet easily, buying groceries in a supermarket,
or opening a fridge door...
it's this return to the mundane, the household
environment can really beat a man,
if his life is lived to sample the ancient
field of danger...
   so when i did get the schtick of her empiricism
i decided: well... i'm no native....
and aren't we all so puritan about science
when some of it can't be falsified,
which it can:
        never too fond of accents myself...
native or alien...
               some people have a fetish for
feet or a french accent...
                        but that ***** essex slur...
or however you'd like to put it,
  it's not even cockney, but you get to hear
something quasi-cockney around these parts
more often, given that a lot of londoners
are moving away to these parts...
cockney meets essex county...
or meats it... yep: beats it silly with squalor
and at the same time: sophistication of living
in cement graveyards of an international city...
then again, you walk into a forest at night
during the summer, wearing only a t-shirt...
and it's freezing!
   you can actually hear Gaia breathing...
and then out of the woods and onto the cement...
that rush of feeling a complete change
of temperature... well... that's something.
          oh it wasn't me, i didn't dump that
french bird, she dumped me,
       as an experienced woman in her early
twenties would, to a ****** (who lost it with her),
18 year old.
    memories and all, what a grand cinema,
sipping absinthe on the streets of athens,
the athenian strip-club...
                sitting on a stool looking at a stripper
while holding two women in my arms
and kissing that sweet, sweet tender *****...
what happened after?
   drank all my money away,
                was escorted by a bouncer to a cash
machine... ****** myself
           and scuttled away back to the hostel....
and then took the bus from athens to katowice...
macedonia? beautiful, very hilly...
       serbia though... a plataeu of snow...
and i admit, belgrade from the distance
looked stunnig... esp. because of the snow.
oh right, i was supposed to insert a          )
having begun it with a     (      of an original prompt...
english really does have this natural
basis to invoke a self-conscious pronoun base of i,
it's like there's this need for a double-certainty
of the speaker stating that: it really is that person
speaking... or even thinking...
     polish        as a language? it rarely uses
the pronoun ja, i.e. i,
                          it's just certain -
english has to overtly use the pronoun -
      and it would be certainly pointless to ditto it
out... like some careless selfish womanisers
by the name of sartre...
                   that's the one thing i don't understand
about sartre, how it could ever be, something
about "ego"... more like Igor and doctor frankenstein...
i find that expression, yes, that alone
   " e g o " to be akin to pontius pilate washing his hands:
for whather transgression: i can't be to blame...
and then comes that ****** mantra
of mea culpa... and it just goes on and on...
to be frank, the whole point of mea culpa
is to transcend any invocation of self-pity...
      it's probably the foremost notion of transcendentalism,
well given that self-pity exists in people,
and some people would rather take blame;
indeed, it is my fault that i once had a heart
to feel intimate with someone, or even entertain
the idea of a fwend...
                            if anyone asks, i'll just be
a hermit, in my little cave.
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2020
i own
a bed...

          but i rather...

sleep on...

a hardened...
wooden

flooring...

          that there's
an excuse
for a three-some:

soak of two stags...
and two: and a third....

glory hole:
waiting...

        tiny-rubberband,,,
hell-spew: nue-spawn
of the loitering:

third ***** of lesotho...
this... diatribe prince...
blank pawn- and panther...
spawn... best: retort:

a time when racial differences:
where a last:
difference binding
incremental loitering...
lining...

          the rancid "quid"....
copper-flaking...
my most adhered to...
bubble-wrapping...
          my loot and loitering...
skim-reading of erasmus...

      gas-lit...
             incubus...
the last salvaged barber shopping...
that sort of trim...
that rhapsody in...
sub-topic...
*******... debunking measures...
spawn: en vogue...
belitteling meausures...
facing the *****-bank...
basics... and new world conquering...
this great... unfamiliar past
of the bleach panther...

       chain-locket and a mirror of
surprise...
about 4 children later...
some variation of first towed along
"love"... my love my love...
the last lesson...
the first at arrived at grievance...
a bismarck: my last loaded:
sq. hope for a miser:
and some... variation...
a hello... a hello... a hello...

                  as best: heaved...
the last... a remnants of...
                        this a wording...
lost: to the autobiography...
of the U-boat captive...
or the panzer-tank... captive...

                confiscating the captives...
of the lesser man...
of the lesser man...
     confiscating the captives...
for all the time in the world...
and all the world...
was... this... time... most... limiting!
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2017
it's twenty past four,
i have spent the past hour watching
the Vierschanzentournee -
like someone in England might
have stayed up, watching
the n.f.l. or a boxing match...
i bought johnny walker black
at the airport and i sat there
watching history.
                        can there be a modernised
version of ecce ****?
             apart from dietery requirements
and angst against Wagner
and all that pompous rattle
invoked in the original by Herr N.?
i guess there can be...
    there i was, on my hiatus,
going to bed almost every single night
trying to sleep-palm a chess set
or a keyboard, but both seemed out
of reach...
                   this, again, a forceful
resignation toward the past day,
              it will never be perfect,
the first approach will always be
rusty, it has been three weeks
since i last entered this spiderweb,
of snappy convo and even snappier
overload of democratic practises;
and before me: endless sleepless
nights, and countless miniature
fürhers... and thus this fact:
  which i thought was worth avoiding...
but then i did buy a used laptop for
550zł, (given the exchange rate,
that's roughly £100... the downside?
everything is in paul-leash (no,
that's not an americanism of drawl
and draw and slobber and Houdini's
last trick) - hence i might actually
sport a cravat, moccasins and a
velvet dinner jacket...
                                   and when
Rodin employed his minions to
    chisel away at chapters from Dante,
Dumas (have you ever seen his
omni coprus?) like some pseudo-Pope
employed heavy-drinking monks
to write out his stories for salon bored
ladies until their hands were
playing shadow-arthritis games
         that children would applaud:
rabbit! rabbit! poor monks, exhausted
from having scribbled and
chicken scratched chicken blood into
papyrus wanted nothing more than
to grow their nails so they couldn't
hold a quill... no matter! Dumas would
say... we'll sharpen your nails,
vol. 25 of the comte bourbon &
the flamingo dance, and Rambo XVI
were both written by the unfortunate
monks...
              once again: there's
autobiography... and there's an autobiography...
  to write an autobiography
so that no biography is worth writing...
perhaps if i used paragraphs:
i could be considered: "serious".
      then there's that thought:
thought as origin of biographics -
           nothing to be preserved in
it having happened, returning from
Stansted in a taxi:
  only a thought:
   philosophy cannot claim anything
to be counter-intuitive in its foundation,
to me that conjures up an analogue:
the guillotine is the counter-intuitive
foundation of the french revolution...
Ivan the terrible threw dogs off the Kremlin
wall, and gauged out the eyes of the St. Basil's
architect... and since then
children in Poland loved to play:
throw a bunch of marbles into a little hole...
evidently ancient Egypt resounded
in capricious cappuccino Milan...
or: Míllánò! nurse! nurse! the syllable-scalpel!
herr doctor, is that defined by diacritical
marks? yes sister.
                  **** in boots to suit you toppling
too...  and may i add:
             how ever did i digress from
the mundane reality of: second-hand laptop,
Windows in Polish... every single word
in english: red tape, underlined...
if i have dyslexia, it'll show like a crow's
feather on a dove -
and when it does, you can start calling
me Chief Apache Pixie Jack...
or how you have black and white as
polar, the rainbow... and then
nights in grey satin by the bothersome blues.
this will be defined by lacklustre
and hopping along... then, vaguely:
a romance?
                        it was supposed to
be a hiatus... hiatus...
         3 weeks of what became defined by
anything but such hopes...
   some people span a literary career of
20 years... take 3 years to write a book...
         it takes me 3 years to keep
a single thought...
          can you really repress biographic
accounts these days?
                                 well... if written
par with the times, i guess it's as much
fun as questioning whether
     the following two are very much akin:
1 + 2 + 3 = 5 - 10 + 20 x 2 = 30
is the same sort of arithmetic as when
you do the "math"of writing out
a word like onomatopoeia...
the hanging vowels of babylon...
          if anything, then this -
             as it also could be: on the scrapheap
of memory, a dazzling iron-clad
      heftiness of pulverising vector -
a Gucci demanding a pulpit and an
avocado on toast... champagne and
squid... or as the Michelin criteria were
revealed: rubber tire and squid di Calabria...
tell the two apart... you'll get a republic
passport... who would have thought
that rubber tires were the benchmark,
the ph 7 of foody palettes across the
azure blob, with some ashen and fern
bits in between.
   but this is me, testing new equipment...
having spent 3 weeks on two kinds
of detox... alcoholic... oh the whiskey...
and the ski jumping gavrons...
   plush? sparrels in a rolling dozen
of figurative barrels - and more sensibly?
kestrels, petted by stiff, castrated
   hippos of the sky, akin to astronomy
naming blobs: pi-7773-quatro-offshoot-of
Juno...
                 or a boo boo 747...
about as gracious as a **** launched
off a trebuchet at the dome of the rock...
gimmicky the sliding down...
hot wedge like swallowing a sword...
                3 weeks on this vegetarian
diet... detox alcohol detox 21st century
phonebook...
    rusty first imprints from the waiting game...
but my my...
               wasn't it fun...
                  Jan Kazimierz Waza
(the finicky cardinal)
                                       as presented by
Horatio... no no: John Ignatius Kraszewski...
   (Copernicus was apparently Prussia)...
which means Ignacy was Bella Belyy Kraшevsky...
      which makes me wonder:
why is the violin the pauper's? instrument
or the instrument of hoped-for empathy?
any one would tell you:
as also the accordion player on a tree...
well... roof here, roof there:
try doing ballerina's tip toe on a gothic
spiral tip of a cathedral...
and yes, the gargoyles... sing-along:
silent night...
                       holy night...
again: this was supposed to be a hiatus...
dogmatic statements... and....
    apodictic statements...
                      in truth, most people are
size 0 with their diet of words....
      where that turkey of a tongue to
fatten 'im up? well... ask the shepherds
of Damashek when Saladin will come
to rattle the blacksmith to wield a sword.
a thousand maidens faint...
   (if this was a cabaret voltaire play,
it would happen...
    and the two will never win:
one has a crop of hair on the scalp,
but spider-legs of a beard on the chin...
the other has precious silverware on
the scalp... and 21st Amazonian nomads
peeping out from between his
beard)... well...
not bad for a break from hiatus...
the whiskey is good,
                    the breadth has already been
tested...
   oh yes, the dreaded notes...
   this was supposed to be a:
a 3 week break, bam! a whole session
of writing it out in one go,
beginning with: the first question
i was asked as the Western Warsaw coach station:
do Kijova? i.e. to Kiev?
       oh sure, plenty of Ukranian merchants
down the western side of Warsaw...
   a Ukranian family of only women
sitting eating 3 while chickens among other
things: polskie chlopachki nie placzy...
and if you're lucky! you might even spot
a Mongolian!
                    it was never going to be an easy
transition...
i left Poland when it was -18°C...
                   sunny... bitter...
   walking on snow was like either
hearing a meow purr every time the foot impressed
itself on the snow, or i was wearing latex...
                 and to come into this abysmall
+7°C "winter" that England is?
   gothica... rain in winter... only in England...
and yes, if i were born here
i would be making awckward jokes about
the rain... but i wasn't.... i inherited it
from some unforseen discourse about
     Saint Gorbachev and how bloodless it all
became... prized piglets of Kazakh:
   dollar baby koo chi go go west and buys
usés a Lambro-jini... plight of the Sinking Belgian:
and all he did was sail to Congo on a waffle...
   pity the man! pity the man!
    i have no romance with England...
the grey skies and the constant rain
are like toenails to my heart... they're just there...
but you just see me walk in that pine
forest... in my natural element...
                              -18°C...
why did only German poets philosophise?
   and why did only Shakespeare make
poetry indistinguishable from philosophy and
why did the French turn to pastries
                                rather than the dry
and cough infused pages of bookworm time-donning
yella spaniel sepia waggle waggle
                  Sorbone          
   & Pavlov... pretty girls and pretty boys in
the Erasmus programme... to Rome!
to Antwerp! to Brioche! ... to a brioche...
                      Bruges!
                                               Kiev aflame...
Cracow a mind-game...
            Prague merely an INXS postcard from
the early 1990s...
                    Berlin a wall...
   Munich a litre of gods' **** and company of a dog:
of a dog's intuitive measure of man's
competence with regards to a desire for gods...
                   Lvov... thankfully Lvov
will never be the Istambul of Byzantines' nostalgia...
   so too Vilno...
                                                well...
that's for starters.
Kurt Philip Behm May 2024
The coach signaled timeout and called the team to the sidelines.  There were eight minutes left in the biggest game of their lives, and they would be playing for three minutes with a severe disadvantage.  They had committed a succession of penalties within a span of less than 60 seconds, and they would now be playing without three men on the field.  In lacrosse this is referred to as ‘Man Down.’  

Usually it’s only ‘One Man Down,’ or at the most, ‘Two Men Down,’ but few watching that day had ever seen a team go ‘Three Men Down.’  This meant that their star goalie T.J. Braxton was only going to have three defenders in front of him instead of the usual six.

T.J. had been playing great, but he now had to play for two minutes with three men missing in front of him and then the third minute still missing one. It was going to seem like an eternity.  The coach looked over at T.J. and he was standing off to the side by himself not wanting to either look or talk to anyone during the intermission.  The coach understood this behavior because he had been a goalie himself and decided to leave T.J. alone — totally immersed within his own thoughts.

As they did the cheer to break the huddle, it was for their goalie …”1, 2, 3, Go T.J.”  What would happen now brought more pressure than any goalie should ever have to withstand.  Even going just ‘One Man Down’ would in many cases result in a goal for the other team.  Going ‘Two Men Down’ almost ensures the other team a goal, and anything beyond that just puts your goalie at the mercy of the shooters on the other team.

    And Tonight There Would Be No Mercy To Be Found

T.J. already had 18 saves up to this point with only half a quarter left to play in regulation. Saves are when a goalie either blocks or deflects an offensive shot from the other team. He had only let in three goals all game, and the score was tied at 3-3.  

Pennhurst was a powerful public school with large and fast athletes.  They had not been playing lacrosse as long as T.J.’s private (all-boys) school, Haverland Academy, but their natural athletic ability and inner toughness were making up for any experience lost.  

T.J. would have to defend his goal missing three men in front of him for two minutes and then missing one man for the next sixty seconds.  It was his team’s possession coming out of the timeout, and it was all they could do being so shorthanded to even get the ball across the mid-field line.  The coach’s tactic was not to shoot the ball now but to stall and to try and take as much time off the clock as they could until they could get more players back on the field.  T.J. stood rock solid in the center of the ‘crease’ in front of his goal and looked squarely at the goalie at the other end of the field. The ‘crease’ was the large circle surrounding the goal that no offensive player from the other team could enter. He seemed to not be following the ball and his coach wondered what was going on inside his head.

Playing goalie is 80% mental, and he was hoping his star goalie wasn’t going to have a melt down when his team needed him the most.  T.J. would normally be very active inside his own goal shouting instructions to the defensemen in front of him and trying to best position them for the oncoming attack.    

               Something ‘Seemed’ Different Tonight

T.J. had entered a new zone, one that he had never been in before, and one that only he could understand.  As Haverland’s lead attackman charged the opposing goal, the ball fell out of his stick. It was immediately picked up by the opposing goalie and ‘cleared’ to a midfielder standing outside and to his left.  The midfielder made one more pass to an attackman, and the ball was coming T.J.’s way with only three defenders in front of him to help stop the charge. The ball was again passed to one of their senior captains and their strongest midfielder.  

He juked left as he faked a pass and then as he cradled the ball wildly, he headed straight toward T.J. in the goal.  When he got within fifteen feet of the goal he stopped, set his feet, and with a violent and twisting motion fired an overhand shot across his right shoulder at the ground two feet in front of where T.J. now stood.

T.J. was now eighteen and a half and had been playing goalie since he was seven years old.  He had seen and defended almost every kind of shot and from every angle in those eleven years. He had just never had to do it before with almost no defense in front of him.  As the shot left the midfielders stick, T.J. reacted.  He took two steps forward and was able to scoop the ball out of the air at ankle height before it was able to bounce off the ground. Bounce shots were more difficult to save, and his accumulated instinct and experience allowed him to get this one and at least for now keep the score tied at 3-3.

T.J. ran behind his own goal toward the end line. With the ball in his stick he was trying to take time off the clock.  Only one opposing player chased him, and he was able to do a 180-degree spin, avoid that player, and run back out in front of his goal.  He then cleared the ball, the entire length of the field, to a midfielder standing in the far left corner.  T.J.’s team had the ball within thirty feet of the opposing goal with only two minutes left to run in penalty time.

T.J.’s offense decided it was time to step up and play big.  They managed to take a full minute off the clock with uncanny passing until the referee finally called stalling and gave the ball back to the other side.

As the ball came back in T.J’s direction, two of his penalized players retook the field.  They were now playing with only a ‘one man down’ disadvantage and for only sixty more seconds.

The opposing team set up in a perimeter in front of his goal passing the ball from man to man and then behind T.J.’s goal in an attempt to unbalance a still weakened defense.  As the ball went behind the net, T.J. rotated inside the crease never taking his eye off the ball.  He thought they were setting him up for something sneaky because his fundamental blocking skills on normal shots were so strong. More than anything he didn’t want to give up a cheap goal, and he wouldn’t have to wait long to find out that his suspicions had been correct.

As they passed the ball back and forth behind his goal, an attackman turned and tried to lob the ball over the back of the goal, and T.J.’s stick, to an opposing midfielder who was charging the front of the goal from about twenty-five-feet away.  They were hoping to catch T.J. mesmerized in what was going on behind the net and then reverse field and go in the one direction no one ever expected — over the back of the goal.  

It didn’t work!  As the ball left the midfielders stick, T.J. jumped high in the air and intercepted the pass in the shooting strings of his goalie stick.  He then spun around and ran directly to the out of bounds line to his right. It was beyond the defensive box, and he stood there waiting for someone to challenge him.  He was again trying to take precious seconds off the clock to get his team back to full strength. Although a goalie, T.J. was the fastest player on his team and that speed was like money in the bank to a team that was struggling and in trouble with time running out.

He managed to get the penalty down to twenty two seconds before he finally dished the ball off to another long stick defender and then quickly moved back in front of his goal.  That defensemen got across midfield just before another penalty would have occurred for not advancing the ball.  With only seventeen seconds left on the penalty, the offense passed the ball to the four corners looking for a man who was ‘hot’ (open) who could take the shot and finally break the tie.  With only three seconds left in the penalty their best attackman, John Erasmus, took the ball in his stick and with his left hand fired a side angle shot at the right side of the goal.  It was a great shot, but their goalie made a heroic save. He was also a senior and had transferred into Pennhurst two years ago from a Lacrosse powerhouse school in northern Maryland.

With both teams now at full strength, the ball went back and forth for the final five minutes with very few shots taken at either end.  The ones that were taken were weak and from great distance, and both goalies easily picked them up and started the ball going the other way.  Each shot was critical now because the game was tied with time running out.  Possession was more important than losing the ball to the other team by taking a poor shot.  As the lights shone brightly high above the scoreboard, time ran out in regulation.  The game would now go to sudden death overtime, and it would become about the strength of the face-off men and how hot each goalie was going to be.

    It Was Now About The Face-Off Man And The Goalies

In sudden death, the first team to score wins!  No second chances here it’s do or die time, and everything is amped up to an entirely new level.  Many times, the winner of the face off at midfield wins the game because everything is geared towards that one shot, and the pressure on the opposing goalie is tremendous.  Unless the goalie can isolate himself in a ‘zone of invincibility,’ the chances of blocking a shot in overtime due to a lost face off are not very good.  Just like in the NFL, where the coin toss often determines the winner in overtime, the face-off is like that coin toss only with skill and not luck determining the winner.  T.J. thought back to all the coaches and mentors that had brought him to where he was standing tonight.  They were all somewhere up in the stands, and they were all living and dying with him tonight in the goal.

      T.J. Decided That Tonight It Would Be About Life

The Captains met at the middle of the field as the referee explained the rules of sudden death.  All who were listening thought that the term was aptly named.  They shook hands again and ran back to the huddles on their respective sidelines.  Both coaches gave their overtime strategies to their teams, and they did one more cheer before retaking the field.  Both face off men walked slowly toward each other at the center mid-field line and stared each other directly in the eye.  

The physical disparity between the two players at mid-field was huge.  Haverland’s best face off man, George Arle, was 5’6’’ tall and 160 lbs. Pennhurst’s face off man, B.J. Radford, had been an All-State quarterback on the football team and was 6’3’’ and 225 lbs.  Although Lacrosse was not his primary sport,  he had played it for the last four years and by anyone’s account he was a ‘stud player.’  The skill in taking face offs is unlike any other in Lacrosse.  It’s more similar to recovering a fumble in football or picking up a loose five-dollar bill dropped on the floor in Penn Station in New York.  It’s uncontrolled mayhem with the skill to do it only evident to those who have been there. And it’s those players who know painfully well what it takes to win the fight for the ball.

Although T.J.’s face off man George had had a good season, he always struggled against players that were that much bigger than him and usually lost the ball.  The ref. positioned the ball between the two boys sticks who were both crouched down and ready at mid-field.  The whistle blew, and George lost the ball as B.J. picked it up and charged right over George’s left shoulder.  He was headed in a straight line right toward T.J. who was standing fixed and ready in front of his goal.  B.J. passed the ball to a midfielder who kept it only a second before passing it to an attackman who was off to the right of the goal.  The attackman looked to his left and faked a pass to his right.  He then spun around and with all his might fired a bounce shot on an angle from the right facing side of Haverland’s goal.  

T.J. stepped forward, scooped the ball up on the first bounce, and in one fluid motion flipped the ball out to a defenseman on the left perimeter. This player cradled it inside his long stick as he took off down the sideline and across midfield.  The defenseman made a pass to a middie on the extreme other side of the field who then passed to an attackman. This man ran around behind the net and came out on the other side in front of the goal, shot the ball, but it went wide right.  The other team was closest to the ball when it went out of bounds, so it was Pennhurst’s possession, and it was coming back T.J.’s way.

Their goalie cleared the ball left to a long stick defenseman, who in turn made a long pass directly to an attackman, and the ball was once again in the oppositions stick less than thirty feet from the goal T.J. was defending.  This attackman had no intention of passing.  He put his head down and charged straight ahead toward T.J.  As his coach was screaming at him to pass, and it the midst of five defensive players, he fired off a shot.  It came at a side angle, and, with all of the players surrounding the shooter, it was hard for T.J. to see the ball come off the kid’s stick.  

When T.J. finally did see the ball, it had passed the head of his stick, and he was just able to get a piece of the ball with the bottom of his shaft. It was just enough to deflect the ball upwards and over the goal and into the chain link fence fifty feet behind the crease.  On instinct alone, T.J. ran after the ball and being closest to it when it went out of bounds, he picked it up in his stick and slowly walked forward. This gave his midfielders time to transition back up to the other end of the field.

T.J. was living on borrowed time.  Making one save in overtime was huge, but making two, and one with only the shaft of his stick to save it all, was stretching the limits of whatever luck the team had left.  T.J. easily passed the ball to an unguarded defenseman who ‘walked’ the ball up-field and then tossed it to a midfielder just in front of the offensive box.  

The offensive box is the restrained and shorter ‘boxed-out’ area right in front of the goalie and where most shots are taken, and most goals are scored. The midfielder made a pass to his left to an attackman, who tried to make a long looping pass across the face of the box, but it was intercepted by one of the oppositions long stick middies and passed quickly to another midfielder as it transitioned back again towards T.J. This time the ball was coming straight at T.J., and it had taken less than five seconds to get there.  His team was not set yet and this charge could be the end of it all.

T.J.’s team had been caught napping in an uncharacteristic moment of uncertainty.  Pennhurst’s top midfielder again had the ball, and he was charging at T.J. who had only two players set and not the normal six in front of him to play defense.

Surprisingly to T.J., this player then made a pass to the extreme right corner and that attackman ran behind T.J.’s goal giving his defense more time to reset.  This player then made a pass to the left side, and it was once again in the stick of their best midfielder, Matt Makritis.  Midfielders, or Middies, as they’re often called are many times the best athletes on the team.  They have to play both offense and defense and run the entire length of the field while their shift is on. Makritis was a high school All-American, and he was charging at full speed toward the left front facing side of T.J.’s goal.

                       T.J. Was An All-American Too!

T.J. was also an All-American and had recently been on the front cover of ‘Inside Lacrosse Magazine’ and featured as the #1 player coming out of High School Lacrosse that year.  He thought to himself that all of that press would be meaningless if he allowed this shot to go in.  The opposing midfielder continued toward the crease unguarded, got within ten feet of the goal, and fired point blank at T.J.  No fancy bounce shots or behind the back this time.  This shot was straight at T.J.’s head, and from less than ten feet away. T.J. caught the ball in the fat part of his goalie sticks net.  It didn’t stay there though.  The power of the shot caused it to come out of his stick, in what is referred to as a rebound, as it rolled ten or twelve feet out in front of the goal.

A second midfielder then picked up the ball, and not lifting it from the ground, fired a shot right back at T.J. This was more like a golf shot than a lacrosse shot, and T.J. struggled to see from which direction the ball was coming.  As the ball came back at T.J. at a severe angle, headed toward the left backside of the net, he stretched his body out like a goalie in the NHL.  Doing a full split in front of the net, he was able to get a piece of the ball with his right cleat and deflect the ball off to the left side of the goal. As the ball rolled harmlessly toward the far side of the endline, the referee blew his whistle.  The first three-minute overtime period had ended.

    They Had Survived Sudden Death For Three Minutes

Both teams huddled tightly with their coaches and trainers.  This time though, T.J. didn’t leave the crease at all.  He was leaning against the goal with his back turned to the field. It was almost as if he was talking to someone you couldn’t see and totally immersed in a world of his own.  There are several times in a man’s life that define and underline not only who he is, but who he will then become.  This was one of those times for T.J.

                                 And He Knew It

Both teams wearily took the field.  The pressure of an extremely tight game, and then surviving one overtime period, had taken its toll.  As the face-off men bent low and readied for the ball, T.J.’s back was still facing the field.  When he heard the whistle blow he spun around and it was like someone twice his 6’2’’ size was playing goalie.  He seemed to fill the entire net with his presence and there was an ‘aura’ coming from him that surrounded the entire defensive end of the field.

Once again, George lost the face off to the All-State quarterback and star midfielder, B.J. Radford.  This time however, the look on B.J.’s face was different.  Although fairly new to Lacrosse, inside his chest beat the heart of a champion.  He almost stepped on George as he picked up the ball and headed straight over the mid-field line and directly at T.J.  This senior captain had no intention of passing, and he was going to ‘ice’ the game for his teammates and fans.  B.J. was not known as a great shooter but more for his defensive skills. He was a great athlete though, and this charge was not to be taken lightly by anyone on the defensive end of the field.  

                 B.J. Knew This Was His Moment

Without stopping or setting his feet, he raised his stick above his head and shot the ball toward the right corner of the net at over ninety miles an hour.  T.J. saw this one all the way and caught the ball in his stick.  He then ran out of the goal and passed B.J. who was still coming his way as he charged past him and headed straight down the field.  T.J. was out of the defensive box and headed toward the mid-field line.  He was looking at nothing in front of him except the opposing goalie who was now staring at him with an incredulous look on his face inside the opposing crease.

Everyone there that night had their mouth’s open in awe.  No one expected the goalie to ever make the final break, and no one watching had ever seen a goalie possessed with such speed.  The other team was in awe too and just kept watching him run. They were all guarding open men who they were sure T.J. would eventually pass the ball to.

                                  He Didn’t Pass

When he crossed the midfield line, the fans went wild and stood up.  One of his midfielders had the presence of mind to stay back behind the midfield line so that an offsides wouldn’t be called.  In Lacrosse, you always need at least three men back plus the goalie in the defensive end.  Once T.J. crossed midfield, one of the midfielders had to stay back.

T.J. approached the offensive box in front of their goalie with only one thing on his mind.  He had been acutely watching this kid all day and he had noticed one thing.  This was a fundamentally sound and ‘play up’ goalie and one would who would rise to the occasion when the heat was on.  He had transferred into Pennhurst only two years ago and based on his great skill, he had gotten them this far.  He had one weakness though that T.J. had observed — he couldn’t handle the off-speed shots, especially over his left shoulder.

The left shoulder is opposite the goalie stick’s head if you’re right handed. In his case, the only weakness that T.J. had seen,
other than his struggle with off-speed shots, were those directed high up and left.  Like a changeup in baseball, the off-speed shot often confused the goalie’s timing and could cause him to over or under react at just the right time.  T.J. continued to charge the goal.

By this time, two defensemen from Pennhurst were running from both sides to get to T.J. before he could shoot, but his speed was too much.  As he approached the crease from the right side, he raised his stick above his head.  He threw his lower right elbow at the goalie as if executing a shot.  His stick-head never moved, but the goalie bit on the fake.  He waved the head of his stick high right and then easily lobbed the ball over the Pennhurst goalie’s left shoulder.  The referee blew the whistle — the game was over —and T.J.’s team had finally won.

The other goalie dropped to his knees and then put both hands on the ground in front of him.  T.J. went over and picked him up saying: “You may have lost on the scoreboard tonight, but you never gave up. I’m proud to have played against you.”

Haverland had just won the State Championship, and most watching said it was the greatest goalie performance at any level that they had ever seen.  T.J. was voted ‘Most Valuable Player’ of the game. In the fall, he would be off to a top 10 Lacrosse University where he would major in Criminal Justice and take his goalie skills to an even higher level.

T.J.’s coach told him after the game that you can play lacrosse for your entire lifetime and never be able to play or recreate what you just did.  His future college coach, who had been in the stands watching, came down on the field and put his arm around T.J. after the game and told him the same thing.  He went on to say: “T.J., I had my whole speech ready before you went into overtime.  I thought I might have to come down here and tell you that although you lost — you lost really well.

   T.J. Did Not Want To Believe That Losing Well Was Really Possible!

“You had made all those heroic saves throughout the game for your team, and if you had to lose, it would have been a great way to do it.  The only problem with my prepared speech is that you didn’t lose. As I watched you in the goal with your back turned to the field as the second overtime period started, I said to my assistant coach Dave, who’s over talking to your folks, that our new and future goalie is in a zone that few can ever get to.  He will not be scored on again tonight.  Tonight, and for however long this game lasts — he is truly invincible. And I don’t believe I’ve ever used that word to describe a player before.”

Many years passed and one day T.J got an email from his old high school coach.  The coach told him that once again his school, Haverland, would be playing for the State Championship and he wanted to run his pre-game speech by T.J. before his boys took the field.  It was short and to the point.  What he wanted to tell the boys was: “It wouldn’t be the number of players on the field but who those players were and what was coming from inside their hearts that would make all the difference.”  He then went on to tell the story of T.J. in the State Championship Game that took place over ten years before.  

Some of the boys had heard the story, but all were in awe listening to the emotion and passion in their coach’s voice as he retold the story again.  It was like replaying that game with the current Haverland players and right before the most important game that most of them would ever play.  

Haverland won the State Championship again that day and many of the boys said that it was the pre-game speech about T.J. and his team’s overtime victory that fueled their desire and commitment to make it happen.  It was also a close game, and with two minutes to go the score was again tied. Five times during the game they had gone ‘one-man’ down but had only allowed one goal to be scored during those five uneven possessions by the other team.  Haverland was then able to strip the ball from their opponent twice in the final two minutes and convert both into scores — ending the game at 7-5.

Along a lonely hallway in the back of Haverland’s new athletic center hangs a plaque with the story of that night so many years ago.  But to T.J., and all the members of that legendary team, the thing that hangs highest — is their refusal to lose.

The possibility of being invincible would stay inside T.J. and all who were there to watch him play that night. He learned that at the end of the streak where luck ends, sometimes you have to enter that zone …

                                 And Just ‘Will It’ To Happen.
North African English teachers
Are so rare in Peru;
However, I was sent right there
By the Erasmus - EU.


My adventures didn't even start
When I felt strong unease;
As if I was followed by some,
Some dark and unseen breeze.


My first day was ruined by a bite
Happened in the toilet;
I saw a shade in the mirror,
Then, some tooth and eyelet.


                    ---


On my first day I got injured
That was badly enough;
However, the first day kept me
A night just alike tough.


Knock-knock-knock I heard on my door,
The darkness was shallow;
Knock-knock without answer,
My guest was Diablo.


I'd been never superstitious,
Though, I believed in Jinns;
Just as I was a believer
Of many other things.


                    ---


Knock-knock-knock - for a hundred times,
As if my head was' door;
My fear' fulfilled with angriness,
I faced the corridor.


I got the door slowly ajar,
A black claw might me seize;
I snapped its hand and bring Quran,
"It's time to Exorcise!"


The demon tore the door crying,
Of Quranic verses;
The North African welcoming
Has no demon versus.
22.02.2018
Mateuš Conrad Dec 2016
as ever, not a preference, or a pr.s. (pre scriptum)... more like an afterthought... never presume too much in case of diacritical ownership or necessary use... the language had terrible fathers... sure, once they said thou instead of you... nay instead of no... thee and still said you, as in: to be (that's thou without the index finger)... but when they applied diacritical marks ******* their faces, they attracted ridicule no one seemed to be bothered about... kinda like a Copernican trajectory... why put a dot above iota? well, the answer is the same as saying to clown-juggler (a) jesus... and saying to clown-juggler (b) yehovah... apparently the former is a res vanus (an empty thing) and the latter is a res cogitans (a thinking thing)... and a crucifixion is a binding process... collateral damage: it's the reverse... and you get to keep your yuppie christmas lights... but there a limb missing... ý and j... both have adequate indicators of children with single mothers... it like this genetic encoding, ** for woman, xy for man, xxl for a t-shirt... but why bother ι (iota) into owning any diacritical marks? that's ******* overly presuming to start things off to an Orff composition of a bulimic neptune that's why i suggested diacritical marks on a y... to transfigure it into the presupposed j... you know how many diacritical marks you can add to an ι? many... you can have a dozen brats while you're figuring out the plumbing... presumptious... presumptuous... see! false applicability of diacritical marks makes you a ******* worth of spelling! you're bound to be naturally dyslexic... ****, what a magic trick! ****! gone! dis and then there's dys- and the lexicon going berserk... make your ******* mind up! yes, i know that between dιs- and dys- the former means without, and the latter actually means an adjective, i.e. bad... or a jumbled up lexigraph; then into the tornado machine we go peacocking at the height of synonyms... but i still find it overly presumptious... ****... presumptuous to apply a dot above an ι (iota) and subsequently a dot above a non-diacritically existent j... it's how you yoyo and how you jump... there's so much ambiguity in anglican that the yhwh was drunk obvious... hence i'm drunk... and stating the obvious... you can clearly apply many other diacritical marks to a letter, rather than simply applying two: to aye and to hurray and forget the rest... rhyming couplet that... follow suite with jay... but write anything else in anglican and you see a Cardiff lazy... first the cymru, then the gaelic... well, you have to... given that english didn't come but shakespearean from the caribbean or india... you have to mind saying syrkloffipompusdumpus in Cardiff... it would be a bit diff not not... be gentle... get the rolling hills motto into that word, extract syllables like a German, or a chemist, please.

sometimes it really takes an evening like this, you go through
them until you hear the prompt and emerge on stage
and say a few lines...
you start off with *the connells
74 75,
then move onto blind lemon no lemon,
then through to kula shaker govinda,
      then reef with gimme you love,
    then onto snake river conspiracy
with a cover version of how soon is now,
then you decide to take the steps toward
formalising a mix-take (ancient history
courting techniques, high fidelity crap,
and i did manage to make one for a former
girlfriend... how ancient it all seems right
now... it also seems that i should be
70! by the looks of it... sadly i'm not...
yes yes, my teenage dreams was to work
in a music shop... swear to god, once the mp3
format came out i knew now future anti-Beatles
maniac had his hands tied and couldn't
buy the Beatles vinyl and burn them...
what can you do in Tron-land that's equivalent?
buy a Salman Rushdie and rekindle the
          bonfire night of Munich?
i had a muslim friend that really fancied
natalie portman... but because she is a jew
that was kinda difficult... how about
i obliterate that problem with alicia vikander,
hey there, poster boy... reach for the stars).
the thing is: we're in an en masse shock,
it happened all too quickly...
then came placebo with pure morning,
and then back to covers, daddy cool -
             and then back to boney m with
rasputin... and and then i picked up a book
by jack spicer, and then i thought:
i hope that i write enough so they can do
a my vocabulary did this to me: the complete
collection
, yep, i hope they can't hone in on me,
that they can only print (if ever, yuck)
           a selected works artefact
which, given the Darwinistic interpretation of
history... is not even worth bothering about...
the damage has been done historically,
it's answered in seven (if not more) news channels
with 30 minutes of original script, repeated
24/7 until another headline blip appears and
changes the narrative, just a tad.
    indeed i did pick up a book i own by the
san francisco renaissance poet jack spicer...
      and i immediately forgot what song i was
going to d.j. after i finished with thinking about
what she said when i made that mixtape for her:
listening to king crimson's epitaph at
around 5 a.m. on oxford st. going to work...
              i don't have a library, i have an a-to-zed
of avenues, streets, possibilities...
i don't think... i make cocktails...
                       the un-literal... literally applicable.
philosophy really taught me to not crave intimacy,
or bemoan it as some genius robotics inventor
who equates all things responsive as necessarily
needing an artificiality... so where's the antonym
dividing line between artificial and superficial?
men are from Mars and women are superficial?
               oh sure... we can have this talkshow logic
going round and round...
   wolves don't bark, but the domesticated dog
can't wow us with a howl... is that whining or whimper?
and i know i don't have a novel in me,
      tragic (said keith lemon style)...
                    because i never wanted a zoo,
or wanted to cage anything or see cages...
and then become scholastically holistic -
                      it was never going to be a chance to see
"the whole picture"... at best all you're going
to get is interruptions in my life...
        which is hardly what you'd call the disappearance
of Tiger Woods after rumours circulated that
he owned a harem...
                               and i really do believe that
hinduism got one thing wrong... Shiva is a girl's name.
        shaven... never stirred... sounds just about
right as if were indeed a mexican ****** drinking a mojito.
yes, we can have a mini lecture:
i abuse language, i enslave it, language the over way
round can have a bunch of protestors with
placards walking down the street and chanting slogans
that never make it into advertisement...
     speak ill of the Pharisees: get crucified...
speak ill of the plebs? they disperse - ha ha... i should
know... i could be considered a pleb anomaly...
        broad shouldered and strong enough to move
a tonne of bricks (once)...
             so anyway... i picked up this jack spicer
book i have (that ****** Lorca fetishist!
he'd **** his **** any chance he might have)
   and this weird thing came about...
i lost track of what song i would play to
murmur out the clicking sound of the keyboard
(forget it, typewriters were rapists compared
to computer keyboards) -
             it's from the poem phonemics -
and by god... i'd be gutted to have derived the same
conclusion... and i did...
    yhwh is a phonetic study...
esp. given the anti-diacritical approach of anglican
pragmatism... it's not exactly what people
expect you to believe: circumcision and kippah
and niqab... that's for people who own
about... well a single book or as Erasmus could
have said: in alles reiche... including spanish
dutchland...                        it's not even
mean-spirited that i say it: i said once:
i don't want fans... i want snobs.
                                 any respectable man with
a following of siusiumajtki (a queer way
of saying the verb of ***** and majtki?
                          )maýtki? ý, yep, rarely done(
just means underwear... what the pop stars
get when they ****** standing up)...
                   i really feel like i should write
the second to last part of the poem...
   it's itching me to do so...
             i just don't understand why i see it differently
to how jack sees it... i treated it as the case
of two Adams... aleph and ayin being
the protruding vowels...
                i didn't treat aleph as a consonant...
  maybe i made a mistake in doing so... but akin
to the Greek principle and the rule of prefix and suffix
you cut apart omicron and get o- out and attach
it to ν (nu) - of course once you cut up ν and extracted
n and forgot about the cascade that leads you up
to upsilon - to get the word νo out from the pick 'n' mix.
unless i'm speaking dutch, then i think that
makes sense.
              why wouldn't aleph and ayin be vowels?
           Semitic languages aren't going away...
as is neither the semitic religions... forget it...
it's too complicated, adding to the fact that i'm
bewildered about treating vowels as women and
women veiled and women in hiding and consonants
as men... in the same way that the Latins hide
their children in English... children? diacritical marks...
where the **** are they?
      you get them scooped up by consumerism,
only about 10% climbed a tree...
          the rest are churned into premature adulthood,
and you wonder, with all these advertising
campaigns why most of them develop mature
negations of ease, in ref. to premature depression...
  you wonder... where are the children? swallowed up
by another set of pop idols?
          did they ever play with marbles,
or hide & seek, ever played games with girls
and toys and tic-tac-toe?
ever skipped a rope?
                         it's fading because it's being exploited...
so you end up with a song that prescribed this
poem, folk implosion - make it with the best...
from the soundtrack to the film thirteen...
as it stands i need a refill, and i'll probably cite
the poem by jack, giving about half a second's worth
of care for copyright laws of a dead man...
   just so i can see if my logic serves me right
in saying that hebrew has to variations of a-,
as in aleph (א) and ayin (ע), as does greek
  with thought (θ) and philosophy (φ) -
but let me get back to you on that one.
Nigel Morgan Apr 2014
IV

Dear Frank,

My father, who was the wisest man I ever knew,
thought it the duty of every man, young & old,
to keep an account of his money;
& I very unwillingly obeyed him;
for I was not always so bothersome
an old fellow as I daresay I appear to you. . . .

My dear Father,

I have sent cheque to a repeated bill from Griffin.
A thermometer has come from Kew,
For which I have also paid.

I go on maundering about the pulvinus,
& from what I have seen roughly
in the petioles of the Cotyledons of oxalis,
I conclude that a pulvinus
must be developed from ordinary cells.

I have tried watering Porliera out of doors,
I gave four small cans full in the day
& next morning it was wide open
though for several days before it had been shut.
The ***-plant is very unhealthy I am afraid
As its leaves are dropping off at the stalk.

I was very glad to find that Sachs is dead
against all the people that find
the Descendenz theory in
Ray, Lamarck, Goethe &c.;
Sachs says that he believes some ferns
of the family Marratiaceae sleep . . .

Dear F,

I have finished the long chapter on Sleeping Plants
& sent it to Mr Norman to copy & diagrams to Mr
Cooper.

I am now looking over piles of notes on Heliotropism.
I am more perplexed than ever about life of Dr. D:
Hen thinks it very dull, & wants it much shortened &
otherwise arranged. Erasmus likes it.
Your mother wants parts shortened.
I shall take it on Aug. 1st to the Lakes
& finish it there.

I am tired— Ever yours
C. Darwin
Geno Cattouse Jul 2013
St. Elmo looked down on us
He lit our path through the jagged night.
Erasmus held us in his roughened palm.

There is a balm in Gilead
To make the wounded whole.

There is a balm in Gilead,
to heal the sick soul.

Grasp the mast and glow ,and live
The mast of the fire.  The mast.
In darkest night.

Journey to Gilead by the warm blue
light.
For My Friend
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2016
as was assured, leave our medium of
communication to images, for images
are more provocative and easily translated,
well sure... given that phonetics
has become so ugly you are reduced to
:) (smiley) and ;) (smiling with a wink of
assurance), and the acronyms by
the number: CUL8R (see  you later)...
no wonder then... defiling a mode
of communication so dear makes me wonder...
when will the era of abstraction
end, to end the splashes of colour
without definite contorts of
a visage cease to be?
take a dollop of **** and smear
it on canvas ought to be revolutionary,
by now, i'm sure... because it's just that;
it's like we're illiterate again,
first the clergy governed the literacy rates
and made people idiotic, maximising
on the electorate with Pope Erasmus,
now they're pulverising us with images
to sit, calm and comfortable with a pair of
underwear filled with ants...
pulverised by images we reduced phonetic
representation of writing letters to
no avail, instead shortening our acumen
to representation of being pulverised by images:
like c and see... sea... set sail...but there's no land ahoy!
Zywa Mar 2022
I want to live, so I have to
praise life, and our folly
having a good time

and getting children, uninhibited
and blind to the hardness
of our existence and of people

their failures, errors and deceit
yes, our flight for each other's
aggression and cruelty

Without ideals, I still want
to discover more of life
I am open to the miracle

that you are another me, but
carefully, since the kindergarten
teacher put my trust in the corner

where I took shelter in obedience
and paying extra attention, because
being myself was dangerous
"Lof der zotheid" ("The Praise of Folly", 1511, Desiderius Erasmus)

The kindergarten of the nuns, in the Piet Heinstraat in Tilburg (1956-1958)

Collection "Imprints Masks"
Mateuš Conrad Dec 2015
thus each tear i shed unto your people tribalised by a religion, unto each child of your womb a tear of mine, that i might return from the prison of islam that became a “home” as instigated by islam, and into the home i know of, as being the enemy, in judaism given respect, guardian of the tetragrammaton as the trinity of s, n, t and the hidden vowels.*

and if my prison was islam,
why have my caste resemble
agianst your beauty, brother?
you only made me biterrer
to have my ugly form moulded
against your beauty i see in god
mould you otherwise
akin to god's thought,
so why have you delved in demasking me?!
why have you attmepted to demask me
and give clothing of your nakedness
with angelic spires of the wings?
you demasked me...
and by so doing you made me more beautiful
than you could ever be...
thus i shed a tear upon listening to
the islamic call to prayer -
and i could have replaced a love music
for the wahabi doctrine of only listening to
the call of prayer...
but brother... i write this with tears in my eyes...
why did you unravel the mystery of aesthetics
that god allowed me to be a tourist among these forms
in placebo represented as their own and mortal,
thus sunsets above the wording
that did not revel in reading but in action,
and the few under pseudonym erasmus bothered
with the antonym of the former and left the latter
to idiots, which you claimed descent of from the idiocy of
a prophet that... simply... didn't bother...
he thus trading olives and nectarines
tried trading words and found himself bound to only
one paragraph expressed: and the dictionary of his eloquence
only reached the letter m from a rather than ending in z...
in that onomatopoeia of m n l o t p sung in dyslexic silence;
saddly enough genghis khan wrote more
and killed many more than the supposedly heaven sent
muhammad...
but the mongols were never destined to revel in living
under oil... they lived under camel fat all along...
and never became decadend like the saudi arabs became
with the european ******* ready to expoit youth of flesh
than subject the flesh to the forces of swan encompassing
a stature of the idea encompassing marriage;
well european ******* are cheap: you could
mistake a bulgarian ***** for a romanian one
every other day of the week, and it still wouldn't
feed the ethopian advertised by western charity companies
needing more money to feed the western bureaucrat
for digit input pin: x x x, x x x, than
that ethopian chirch adopted child eating quasi-sushi off
a maiden head of a crap dipped into the depths
the dark thus recycling endearing the construction
of mollusk protein in m.e.n.s.a.
john oconnell Jul 2010
The spirit
of Erasmus
of Rotterdam
still does
and always
will
thrive
in me.
Johnny Noiπ Feb 2019
In this dry air, on the western sun and the west oceans.
And, of course, it is a very dangerous city in the area,
and these are usually the subject and your CEC.
Mississippi is in the west of the West.
Or someone in the power of gravity.
Gadhafi and languages. This is Kantian
and GEOS, but many are dead. Kaddo Qadida
as a criminal. Soccer influence is expected to
begin in the early 1940s. Bass race, citizenship
and language, many Canadian buildings.
Prague, Jerome Maper in Polish culture.
London, a young girl, a young woman,                                a few Armenians,
his wife, his wife, his wife, his wife
and the new islands of Germany.
As well as the beauty of white man
and the people of the earth with the dead.
Song Perry Kenny David Ribbon
Beyond the Jet Book of Apollo's Six
Printed Books and the Solution to the Problem.
no matter what. On the new world
or at the Navigator's Aircraft Motorcycle,
the Amy Vigm Officer is the American Way,
Land Museum, Trevoya.
The fish's condition in the desert near the wilderness.
North America and Camp and Dublin Gondola Or Valley.
And, of course, it is a very dangerous city in the area,
and these are usually the subject
and your CEC. Gregyn and the West-West republic,
a prisoner of war and a wider area,
brought his personality to his friends.
Or someone in the power of gravity.
Gadhafi and languages. This is Kantian and GEOS,
but many are dead. Kaddo Qadida
as a criminal. In the early 1940s,
dive and dry air drifts down into the sun.
Of course, there is a CPPP that can eliminate
the barriers in the city's commercial area
and is often spaceable. West Midlands,
Mississippi. Tongues and other languages ​​
and many other languages ​​have died.
In one game we had over 40 game
fans in some languages ​​in some languages,
some offspring were created in Canada,
in Prague, and in Poland. Erasmus,                                         a young woman,
his wife, his wife and his wife, his wife,
his wife and his wife, his wife and his wife,
and the same child in London,                      some of them carrying the cross.
He lives with his wife,                                                           the island is blue,
and Germany offers a sacrifice.                                                       ­   Kennedy,
the father of six ancient planets in Spain,
is the main activity of all Spanish planets.
Not visible.
Dead Member of New Geography
and Trailer Simon, World's Complete
Liberation Army, John M.
It is at the eastern end of the old street,
known locally as the desolate cooler near.
North America & Times, Burton,
Dediid Goodluck. Of course,                                                    there is a CPPP
that can eliminate the barriers
in the city's commercial area
and is often spaceable.                         This was demolished in its own house, taken by the military,
and brought to public
power and left great fear,
neighbors and spirits.
Tongues and other languages ​​
and many other languages ​​
have died. 9 to 1 40 returned
to his homeland Kadida Cicero.
Dad. This dry air, and west-western
Dammam or the ocean.
Of course, around these
dangerous areas, the city is horrible,       and it is likely to be in the Victorian Emergency Room
at the Seattle Fire Department,
West Csipi, and the Provider's
Pidgeon. Gadhafi, John,                                 and many others lost their lives.
In 1940, he defeated Sécren Fudzel
in many sectors of animal life
and recorded by the police. Jherhem
Mehdi Poland Culture in Prague.
Black women, white women,
and babies as daughters, young or old,
wife, wife, wife, wife, wife, wife, wife,
wife, wife, wife and wife.                                         During the past six years,
the main problem with the song
was the fact that Kennedy
had arrived at this dry air,
in the western sun
and in the western
ocean. And of course,
it is a very dangerous
city in the area, and these
are usually your case and
your CEC. Mississippi
is displayed in the western
hemisphere. Or forcefulness.
Gadhafi and languages.
This is Kantian and GEOS,
but many are dead. Kaddo
Qadida as a criminal. Football
is expected to start at the beginning
of the 1940s. Bass race, Citizenship
and Language, Many Canadian
Buildings. Prague, Jerome Matterhorn
has few wives in Polish culture,
black women,                                                           ­                       tour guides,
young women, young women,                                                           ­ Armenia,
Armenia's wife, wife, wife,
wife and new islands in the
German islands. And the beauty
of the white man and the dead
who are dead in the earthly profession.
Kennedy Ravenen, CEBELE:
Six Sisters With Emotion
Immanuel Kant was a German philosopher who is a central figure in modern philosophy. In his doctrine of transcendental idealism, he argued that space, time and causation are mere sensibilities; "things-in-themselves" exist, but their nature is unknowable.
POSSIBLE Apr 2021
Like a sphinx
I deal in dreams
Secrets and forgotten things
revelations Realizations
Real nough to crumble nations

The light
Make fumble the mumble
Stalking  faces

The sun
May humble the egos
stuck in all the bothered phases

So listen:

If a square turns in to a wreck
And the tangle turns into a tri
Then Spheres sit with angles like
Indigo sunsets and I and Is

God's telling me the function of freedom
is to free others from the dumb ****
needless suffering from a compass
north star witness offering

Need a different kind of outbreak
Tap the mystic roots till we out fake
Crafting directors moment 
not another out-take

Two levels of reality
means one is more supreme

Erasmus laid the egg
that uther hatched in steam

Sleeping dragon ....
Careful, almost horde hatched my dream
poor patchwork puppet speaking muppet strings...maybe Just a man sticking his wand and hand in things.

So I'll leave you with this, be careful where you forget to love lest sphinx and djinn inverse the grin and thus Saturn's spin above.
Ken Pepiton Jun 2019
A voice. No a breeze, whirling a vibe,
ping,
signal down my left-ear hole

gap - do I follow this sprite, a whispt hiss,
this way,

come and see.
Here men invented history, the written story tell of
piles of cities on cities, where all the books was boined.

why did men do that? I listen to me ask,

ology was invented here,
ology-gnosis mist interp o'sin,
that started here, the corrosion
on the contact points between the Sybils and home-base,
Storytellers forgot the melody. The mason's lost the knack.

Written words, those froze the gods in place and
anointed the roles,
in order of importance to the common weal and woe.

--Anachron active.
There are ever resistors to restoration of the flow.
Now is part of ever, you know,
so as Three-channel-era professors seem today,
so were Oral
Storytellers from the initiate class,
doing their duty for the old school ways,
used to
make a child sacred, offer it, the sacred thing,
where
death is symbolic, the heart is taken, with the mind,

a boy or a girl is taken from all reality, and offered, as a living heart and mind,
and gut,
offered
Sacri-ficed, arti-****-of-truth-to-be made knower of things others cannot handle,

---- snake kachina dances past my per-ipher phor phun...
--- loss of focus, that's
the crime of buying what only initiated and locked-in magi
are ever allowed to know, by God, say the words written

in script captured from the scribes who came from Phoenica,
as
testified by the Sybil in throes of ecstacy, you will never know...

so, make it worth my while, the seer of such things says
to the widowed mother
whose hoplite husband fell off a cliff running from Thermopylae.

I'll get your kid in the school of the prophets, through the door
of dark and mysterious learning,
requiring a substantial League of Delphi guar-ohnteed low usery,
standard "borrower is servant to the lender", fifty years period.

--Anachron off.
Listen.
Do they have this in 2019? Timeslip. It's on Youtube, there's
a blockchain on the door, though,
nothing is sacred any more
than before.
It's time the whole story hidden where ideas ignored in idle words
have been received,
be told.
Erasmus, looks up, try this, he says.

Ha, ala Textus Receptus, Magustory of Blowhards and Slowbellies.

Some future, alls I got to say. This is some future we all imagined,

is there an option? Maybe, as in, whose may overides mine?

There is a whole story, I learn, as I wander through the ruins...

Rabbi, where do you live?
He saw me, calling from the ruins, he winked and said again,
Come and see.
Online Western Heritage Classes, while tending to the peace in my valley.
Johnny Noiπ Feb 2019
Sevak's white, white,                                                           ­           white waves
that are used by the little ones.
100: 100: Italian, Italian,                                                         ­              French,
Italian, Italian, French,                                                          ­              German,
Greek, Italian, Greek,                                                           ­             Italian car
companies. German, French,                                                          ­           Fifth
and Licorology Patrick Taylor,
100, and 100 famous French,
Greek, Norman pork,                                         more than one meter in India.
Argentina, Uruguay, Great Britain,
France, Argentina, Spain
and Greece, as well as the queen,
as well as the poet and his wife
Nelson Mandela and the bands
from the east and west to the western
and the same groups,
golden associations and jewelry
But much, 1:1 Aristotle,                                                 a man as I understand
Wade and Damage.                                                          ­                       In fact,
from 100 to 100 years of the year,
the "Lamb" is the first Greek Sasariaris F,
the press, fruits, wrapping, warm,
soft rubber plants and presented
at the festival. Nelson Mandela's
global church news "... it's so."
Lena, since December,
is in the cell but soon people's
groups; Dashdda Boschak Sharad
Sunday Yi Wande.
Other celebrities officially
named Lan Fou Panda and Greenpeace.
Kallisilf's 100-year-old woman
in Pallas hits Greece,     Patrick
Sriuria in Rome, Norman India
abandon India,   Christopher Charlie,
Kettsia and Nelson Greece, Aristotle
100% 100% 100% Ethyl and Etiquid
year, Poland, Greedy Cannes, Canton
James Jim, "Big Gray; Martin
Essa Crêzin's Days, Génénias
Knowing Philipp Romain,                                                    German­ Cornelius
Said To Perform Brazilian
Warfare Story Erasmus Street Fourth
Virgins Elizabeth M. Mark Yohman
Mahein, Bhuu Vo French,               French, French, German, French, French, German, Nico Phphetus Levels,
Parisiir's Grandfather with Five Power Lessons,     100 Gold, More Than 100 Gold, 100 Lokapri Phrench
Greeks noramaindee
the magistrates and Strasbourg,
Nicaragua, Stolte, Armandinus,
Yellow green Nasalan Mandela
Kee bundled Keepearpan Kavi;
gel gonna likes pa kee Jaien
for two months, the main power
of VP John John keeping-****
network good Panionium fényes
Chonging Kee, medium- Karagay
Hildebrandt Cursing, blasphemy,
and our curse a little enjoys
about 100 sleeping. Scientists sleepy
                                Nakama's scientists, G
                                rayear, but the funeral
                                is over 10 years old.
                                Latina, Javanese, Mark
                                Dulle, Becca, Boli,
                                Lenin are Healthy US
                                Achakachama Auan:
                                Javan Patz Katt, Nelson
                                Mandela Curie "2,000 ..."
May Satan tempt
you not to keep it,
but not to. Age Kiya
Kaida Piano Product
Dancing Two Kidd
Kiya jaat two Ashkanazi
Goran's 100 Sqqqqts
Walker secretly watch
your dog dark gray dark black,
margarine dark gray gray;
gray, and grain gray gray;
and gray,                                                            ­                    this dish of Dabab "Kurfur",                                                        ­                                the so-called
KLM, Aya Tiya,                                                            ­                             wash
the KLP, yes, yes.
Johnny Noiπ Mar 2019
The most important thing in the world
is in Europe. In France, Charles Charles
and Charles Charles Ambassadors have begun.
Angola, ****** Pascal 2. The great Kudo-***,
the first ****** and the last one comes to heal.
The campaign is more important than
all the lessons, so the situation is different.
O Pedro Romano Mono Lisses 3 or KORDO,
through a local pioneer or his little one, without
the word "Torah". Charles de Gaulle, April 814,
742-28, Roche Charlotte, 1768, 768 Rhe, 768
774 and 800, Emperor Western Europe, society.
Especially in Europe, Charles Chats in "European
****** and Europe"; "Asian Europe". The Roman
Empire is in Rome, Rome, Rome, ******
and Rome. The custom is over, that's the Nevada
problem. Like Carlos, Rome or two languages,
children are one. Even in the films of the Orthodox Church,
there are ****** and different forms. This author
is for the bible of love. This event took place
in Rome in 1054 in Rome. Henry ******
and Henry Elfin Wrong of 814, January 1414,
for example, 146, and castle speed.
They are like outside, or they are like hair.
Of course, these books are suspicious.
In addition, as followers in Tavray putas yhenwa,
in 1414, Viviida was born in Cuneo. For example,
I expressed confidence in Terra Ellen Lloyd
and joined a program at the Museum Society
****** and... A girl shows me her Pippins,
her Greek ****** and Latvians or her story,
a book, a book and some books. On mailing lists,
July 1467-1540, "Yes." It's about worrying
about starting. In the Gospel of Luke, in the draft
of Irresmus, faith, women, 1534, Archbishop
of Clinton, 12, 7237 in the Benedictine faith,
church, day ****** and night. He was born
at the University of Montpellier, paying homage
to the members of his family. In 1532, two
Western believers, who received $ 40,000
from the doctors, hid their lions but were not
admitted to the New York Hospital in 1534.
Ezra, well, lion Sebastian, in this book, Erasmus
Erasmus. Read MP 1532 or French. Name,
Alpha Romeo and Nike Ampero, or first,
Ripples, Pinup or Grace. In Gregory 13, "Phones,
brochures, leaflets and pamphlets",
such as "salads" or "prophecies"
Johnny Noiπ Feb 2019
Rembrandt van Rijn, "Jeremiah will forget the destruction of Jerusalem", c. 1630 Armenian history is summarized in the book of records. Jeremiah's poetic mission started in 627 BCE; in 627 BCE in the 13th year of King Josiah and the reign of King Zedekiah, 586. "When Josiah entered Jerusalem in the sixth month," he was. Josiah then changed the Judaean religion and killed Babylon with the help of the Jews in Egypt; And with the help of the Jews Babylon conquered Egypt and made 605 Judean kingdoms. Judah became convinced and was in ******* in Babylon. 597, Judah again rebelled. This rebellion is the last Babylonian that destroyed Jerusalem and its temple. Exiled in exile and in 586 leaders in Ethiopia, the Judean life was independent, co-dependent, semi-dependent, or the book can be easily separated by biological, imperial, and poetic lines, each of which can be summarized individually. The curriculum focuses on events recaptured in chapters 26-29, 32 and 34-44 and events back to biblical captivity. Jerusalem's Babylonian Fall 587 From 609 BCE Beginning with the events of the Poet (s), he will provide the exact date. Not in chapter 7, there is a scattered temple and there is any scourge in 11: 1-17? The monarchs, historians and publishers who documented the stories of Jimmy's story in the story of the narrator have the clarity of narratives, historians and publishers, but they have not come directly from Jeremiah. It's done. Typical poems are primarily found in chapters 1 through 25, and the Poet has the traditions of the Prophets speaking as God's messenger. Violations of these God-ordained orders, acts of repentance and political and religious institutions often do not celebrate or have a clear context but are widely accepted as stages of departure for the elimination of Erasmus' teachings. Other poetical writers similar to those of the book of Jeremiah actually wanted to find Armenian and spiritual magazines for individual characters. In these poems, the Poet's mission was revealed to be the object of the mission which was opposed to the rejection of the oaths and the neglect of the mission and the betrayal of God. Hermes is written in two Greek translations written by the seventh century CE. In the original Christian writings and Hebrew manuscripts, Greek copies are less than our Hebrew times, they organize the seminary differently. Both contemporary scandals have been found in the Dead Sea Scrolls, so variations are important when the variations are transmitted. Most scholars believe that the Hebrew text of the Septuagint is much more than a Persian text and Masoretic believes it has a closer and closer relationship with it. In time, smaller versions were produced in Greek Orthodox churches, but mostly in the Jewish and Western Christian churches. Generally, three types of poetry: pure poetry, narrative, and biography are derived from a variety of sources of circles. Jeremiah's main instructors may be in the poetic classes in chapters 1-25 but the book is completely corrected and added with its actual followers including the Poet (s), author Baruch and other generations. . . The date of the latest editions of Greek and Hebrew is the fact that the Greek expression is the normal condition of the Persia, Masoretic means, although it is known in the Persian period of Hebrew, until the 2nd century A. a. The book of Jeremiah has long been multiplied. The Greek show had already affirmed the major structural structures already awaiting the fall of Babylon and investing in the second place of Isaiah so that the following scriptures and the words of God and the historical setting and material of Jeremiah deliver the distribution and exile of the exile until the end of the sixth century. You may. The early stages of the Masonic Jews were probably written recently, chapter 33:
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2021
rearranging a rubber- band on my right
hand for "something" that
comes close to a golf handicap...
this "something" is actually more
tangible, though...
to... make the sensation of
sinew more prominent - like an exoskeleton
variety of a visible: contradictory sinew
that does the opposite of
what's already in place: by restraint...
- i hate golf...
i also hate typing-slow....
when you can't type without having
to look down at the keyboard...
why? it's basically underappreciating
the genius of the man
behind: qwerty... christopher latham sholes...
to me? herr c. l. s.
is leagues above the person who
eroded our brains with...
the alphabet...
why wouldn't you put all the vowels
first... and the consonants later?
maybe the alphabet learning should be
rearranged toward
the sequence:
q w e r t y
or...
   q a z
      w s x
          e d c
the rearranging of the sign of the cross
done by catholics... left to right...
otherwise the orthodoxy of right to left...
but why still bother
with the standard alphabetical...
as long as you remember / use... all the letters...
you stack up 26... what's so terribly
important about x y z...
   e f g... h i j...
         k- l, m, n, o p...
let me sit here... an fester on a wound...
let me keep rancid chicken meat
in my fridge long enough...
can you ever begin to fathom the perfumery of:
how meat can give off whiffs of
rancidity?
it's so specific... it's unlike... what national
treasure... dame Judy Dench said...
in chocolate (show-lo'ca)...
ooh... your cinnamon is rancid...
it's chilly powder...
         rancid meat: esp. chicken...
it has an almost acidic whiff about it...
i can still see the doctor... crow pecking at the keyboard...
armed with only two index fingers...
while here i am... utilizing almost all of mine...
sure... the space button
to catch a reel newspaper style "paragraphing":
columns... rubrics... sudoku being done
my "tired" bones of pinky ownership...
- such that each time i take a bicycle
from havering-atte-bower...
into the grid...
of... Loon'dune...
  who's who when having asked for Lee's...
Da'Un!
           the apostrophe cipher...
an intra-verbum pause...
    otherwise? down...
at best English is written as an approximation...
Fwench is worse...
that much can be said...
they leave their letters at the altars
of Moloch before this grand **** of
infanticide... Guld'An: not Gul'Dan...
if i had eyes worth of ice...
and a heart that throbbed wit
guilt... my eyes would not be the colour
of jade to begin with...
while my heart would not be...
the project of one man...
i desire to steal st. paul's cathedral...
i will not be able
to stick a river into the Thames to turn its...
by way... a river with a tide?
where is the cut-off point
between river water and the sort of water
that makes it... undrinkable?
before the salt settles the last hurrah?
if it weren't chicken scratches that might make
a summary of the solo project of scribble with
the one hand... a handwritten river
as hard to decipher as mandarin hieroglyphs
at times...
spawning an trans-generational
itch for ulterior usage of chop-sticks:
mostly used in the pit of the abacus...
you don't have to be prescribed
the alphabet...
you unfathomable you: you don't...
i see someone, able as i am: to use the arrangement
of two hands before a keyboard...
without looking down...
as a tier above the need to arrange
an alphabet like it might imply:
historical significance?
after a while... that sooner than later
disappears...
the alphabet is lost... when having to arrange
words...
what is the point of keeping the need
for the alphabet... my hands are my eyes...
when i sit down to type...
looking at braille might seem more
important by now...
i don't need the alphabet...
well... i might need it...
but learning it is obsolete...
            unless invested in via: vowels first...
consonants later...
vowels? ** in the realm of d.n.a...
      consonants? XY... ergo?
           vowels are female...
consonants are male...
             no one bothers these days... with these
stalemate concepts of pedagogy...
what philosophy isn't... pedagogy ought to be...
and what is philosophy?
freely available inquiry for those who
want to ingest it...
pedagogy is prescribed learning...
whereas philosophy is without a curriculum...
what is pedagogy? it's primarily: curriculum!

people most close to me once, upon,
a time... hoped... that i might succumb to
becoming a teacher...
i have a Leibniz-complex...
i'd sooner be a ******* road-sweeper than
custard my brain into a role
of overt-demands of responsibility...
******* mother-goose tribunal weighing
on my shoulders... no!
but i like the idea of detailing minor...
revisions...

the alphabet "concern"? using an anecdote...
in a car, with a friend... listening to his father
scold him for not remembering the alphabet...
so not remembering the alphabet is worse
than... not remembering the spelling of: remember?
the alphabet is beside the "hands that see"
argument of qwerty...
there is no "logical" argument for it...
to lodge A first... what about...
that curiosity exclamation marked and mark
and worded: huh? with a scratch of the head...

by the way... isn't the H sometimes
"ghosted" / i.e. surded?
in cockney it 'appens all the time...
i know i'll be robbed of something...
maybe this whole: this is the body of Christ...
i'll be cannibalised for the greater good...
maybe i'll end up with a *******
temple cult of "******" methuselah ladies on
the prowl...

and if i throw another tongue into
the equation: a latin scripted zunge...
will there be a need to throw all ambitions at
the ******* Mandarin like we're the second
coming of the mongolian golden horde?

London: loon-dim... or loon-dune...
i can expand the hell i like...
language is a dog... it obeys me:
i don't obey it... it's my ******* servant:
punctuation: girth of collar
and length of my leash!

i'm almost thankful that English... as a language...
is unlike all the other inheritors of ancient Latin...
you wouldn't see cappuccino anywhere in
neque enim tu es anima tantum,
sed anima corpus circumferens: corpus autem
non potest simul pluribus inesse locis...
Erasmus...

oh don't worry... if i bother... otherwise:
you'd think they'd prescribe us learning a feather's worth
of Latin while the "tide" receded...
back to the old ******* of nation,
tongue... giraffes... glaciers and graffiti...

while we're still rearranging alphabets,
while doctors peck blind at the keyboard...
write... sow: slow... index... primo!
because? cloud of a b c d e f, g...
  why put vowels so randomly arranged
within the confines of: primarily consonants...
it's not like a *******
schematic of 1 1 1 1 1 9 1 1 1
    9 9 9 9 9 9 1 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9
   vowels are... numbers are integers...
period...
    math like jurisprudence:
a ******* theausaurus game... word for word:
counter a word: hide a word... hey presto!
a "new" word...
oh, right... a vowel is an odd "number"...
a consonant: an... "even"... ahem... "number"...
since you can
cut up a S and get... E S or S (ee)
but when you cut up an A
you get... i... irrationality: "irrationality"...
diacritical markings... ą... oh that blessed
breath of things having automated odds-on ****...

breaking of bark...
timid squalor of meow...
all in disarray...
the politics of the sexes... of course:
tantamount...
there was a moon landing... haven't you heard?
this miraculous foresights of
post-subjectivity?

i scream on silent while you children
i given their hail mary / iron maiden
silent, treatment....
congested a best **** please....

i'm starting to get my "mojo" back...
perhaps my vocabulary to boot...
isn't enough... it's never enough...
the Leibniz-Complex is detailing
the afterthoughts of succumbing
to the status of: "librarian"...
or that one kind wonder of
a Portobello St. book on the broke...
hoarder of... "illicit" meteorogical oops
hey presto: there's a daisy.....

it's so much less presto when someone is
also a hey presto! who done it...
the cat takes 'ickles for its nap...
i bone, marrow and that's "fat"...

seagulls in essex?!
that the dead are reminder....
you remember me deaarest ol' ****...
i too tow a love for life....
it's no most importantly "you"... though...
Johnny Noiπ Feb 2019
Rembrandt van Charles                                    "I saw Jeremiah in Jerusalem."
The Arab woman in 1630 it is.                                    However, in this world,
Jeremiah's prophecy began with the goal of the first month.
The Jews were slaughtered in Israel
in "two months in Jerusalem" in the year
606 BCE with the year 586 BCE 586 BCE.
Before 627 BCE, Josiah and 586 627 627.
Jude, King of Babylon, 586 BCE, chapter 32,
chapter 32, chap. 32 Jeremiah follows
the story of Jimmy in history and I want
to make others write Jeremiah.                                                   Jewish writers
and Jewish Jews and Jews.                                                         Three hundred
years ago,                                                Jerusalem was the city of Jerusalem,
the best city in Greece,                                                     and much simplicity
was accomplished in the 6th century,
and the Jews were able to destroy Jerusalem.
"Armani's hero" is in the book, 1630.
Erasmus taught the gospel,                                             started understanding
first 586 200 200 627 586 627 years
more than 200 years ago this month in Jerusalem,
Babylon, 586, the Hebrew leader's name,
                                                                ­               I am in the book in Hebrew.
But they are a great multitude
of Christian women and Arabs;
as well as Christians.                                                      ­                The Hebrew
and Greek words of the US;                                                   At the year's end,
33 of them are in Hebrew,
with Jeremiah's longing in Greek
for a long time, especially
in the sixth time.                                                           Rembrandt van Rayne,
"Jeremiah forgets Jerusalem's destruction",
h. 1630 The history of Armenia
is included in the book of books.
The mission of Jeremiah's prophecy began to be fulfilled
in the first century; 586 years ago.
BC 586 BC 627 BC, during;
The reign of King Josiah
and the reign of King Zedekiah,
"When Josiah came to Jerusalem
in two months after this, Josiah
killed Babylon and devoted Jewish
acts to Egyptian Jews.
With the help of the Jews, Babylon
chose the kingdom of Judah 605.
Judas trusted and served Babylon.
597, Judah rebuked again.
This Jerusalem and the rebellion
of the temple destroyed the last Babylonians.
In Egypt and 586 Ethiopian leaders,
Jewish life itself is partially neutral,
or may be different from biology,
monarchy and poetry                                              The collapse of Jerusalem
in Babylon starts in 609 BC 58
This research focuses on the events
described in chapter 26 to chapter 29,
chapter 32, chapter 34 to chapter 44,
and the events that led to capturing the Bible.
Exactly; It's no plague in NC-17.                                In the history of history,
historians, and editors tell stories
from Jimmy's story from Jeremiah
and letters found in Like other
writers like Jeremiah's book, I.
Of these two poems,                                                           ­             the apostles
reject the reassignment
of Two Hebrew manuscripts
and the Hebrew manuscripts
and the Hebrew manuscripts,
and the traditional Hebrew
era and organized seminars
in the traditional "Fluctuation
is important as to which the current quantum."

The majority of scholars believe that Hebrew
texts translating "seventy"
are more than Persian *****,
a Compared to time, small versions worked
Emmy 's principal teacher can write poems
verses 1 to 5, but the in the Orthodox churches,
but mostly in Western and Christian
Christian churches. Generally, three kinds
Desperate the Persian
from Hebrew to the 2nd century,
texts of ancient Greek
and Hebrew have been
echoed in Greek for over the past few years,
from the A.                                                     Jeremiah has been strengthened.

Before the Greek word,
the fundamental structural
structure predicting the fall of Babylon
and the rest of it, the historical
background and content of the Armenian
asylum exiled at the end
of the sixth century.                                Jewish woman in the last episode 33.
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2022

       /    /
     _
    
     /     /               |4| |x| |4|

by x...
               + with
- without
                                obelus, i.e. among
or: in between...

as you get older it's so refreshing to have so little
male sensibility of not getting any:
i.e. "any" from the opposite ***...
i'm currently working about 10 females...
there's me at the brothel: that's about 5...
and 5 outside of the brothel...
i like them as PROSPECTS...
oh sure... i'd date them... go to the cinema with them:
although: what the **** is worth
watching at the cinema these days...
big girls... like Emmie just my type...
a proportionate "hassle"... 5ft11 and chunky...
she has kept changing her WhatsApp profile
picture like 3 to 4 times ever since she gave
me her number... she blew out today...
oh! i was so looking to be working with her today...
instead... i had some random Mo... and Frankie...
Frankie's alright... a butch-lesbian...
which is sort of fun when talking about a nice
piece of ***... she talks about women like
men might talk when not overheard by
HYENA FEMINISTS...
it's very, very refreshing...
me and Frankie... ****'s sake: FRANKLINE...
talk about women like we're about to start
running a marathon....

i had one of these strange in-body experiences
today at the Romford Ice Rink...
my head was thumping: but i felt no pain...
my brain was trying to escape and leave
me without a spinal chord and two legs to stand on...
no pain...
it's an ancient fear... a pseudo-epilepsy once
gripped me... it would grip me
when i bit down on my jaw...
it would send a shockwave from my head
into my stomach... and curl into a ball of
excruciating pain... a stomach cramp bundled together
with a pseudo-epileptic seizure...
the old ancient fear arrived...
i sometimes arrive at it from either constipation
or from low sugar levels...
today? it was neither...

***** TO THE HEAD...
i need to **** someone...
i seriously need to **** someone...
i don't collect stamps... although i inherited
a decent stamp collection from my grandfather...
if i'm desperate... those Soviet stamps will
sell like nothing before them...
i don't collect money / coinage: but i inherited
a decent gallery from the two Jewish women
my mother cared for...
i collect books... one decent first edition of
a Peter Pan variation set underwater...
with illustrations...
if... i'm desperate...
but i don't mind working: i like working...
Erasmus' Colloquia from 1829...
the Beauties of Sterne... 1811...

well then... i'm rich... i just pretend to not know it...
and i don't want to be rich...
i like my current company...
if not a thief... then a *******...
it's all the same for me...
but today... mein gott! ***** TO THE HEAD!

samen zu der kopf!
it wasn't constipation, it wasn't low sugar levels in
the blood... this should be made illegal!
seriously! how can this example of a well rounded
GINGER ****-BEAUTY walk around with
such so much flesh exposed... and with those tight jeans...
hair that ginger that's perfectly burnt auburn...
no freckles... a complexion very much like
vanilla ice-cream... it's not fair!

how can she just walk around like that!
i got a headache that wasn't a headache but
a bedding-ache... some things should be made illegal...
i had to figure myself out...
what the hell is wrong with you?!
you're not constipated... sure... your blood sugar levels
are low... but...
ugh... i need to correct myself...
i literally had to ******* while pretending
to take a **** when i got home...
i masturbated with the sheath of ******* on...
i then ****** off with the sheath off...
why do gingers infuriate my *** drive so much? why?!
i equalised the blood pressure to the brain
and without climaxing gave "it" a rest...

i'm lucky... my paternal grandmother doesn't know
of my existence: well, she "knows": but she hasn't
the least bit bothered about me existing to begin with...
while my maternal grandmother: sort of ****** me
over pretending my best friend,
i.e. my grandfather wasn't dying: when he was...
only informing me of his death the day he died...
sure... i have plenty of animosity for women...
which is disguise as love
for prostitutes.... oh... you don't require killing
prostitutes to enact "revenge": you just juice them up
in the right sort of places and in the right sort of way...

old granny conflicts disappear
like a spoon in a bowl of custard!
mind you: oh, that, four day agony of scribbles...
i sort of wish i would have forgotten by now...
what / who helped?!
Freddy... thus freckled curiosity of a 13 year old boyo...
minding my own business... walked out with a bottle of cider...
we started talking about bicycles...

how much did it cost?
oh... £500...
can you whistle while shoving *******
into your mouth... hey presto! the boy whistled!
how do you do the wheelie?
i can cycle not using the handlebars...
wow! a perfect circus bear!
he did a wheelie while whistling real loud...
while asking me: can i have a take on your bicycle?!
sure thing Freddie... go ahead...
thank **** and all that the gods needs:
local people interacting with the locals...
perhaps if this was me in Cumbria i would be a priest...
i'm clarifying my position...
it feels good... being so localised...
centralised... it takes so little!
i literally have to put in the minimum amount
of effort to get the maximum response...
great hunting ground for experience dealing with crowds
if i'm to take the route of teaching seriously...

Poland is no longer a viable option...
even though i speak the ZUNGE it's... BOT-LAND...
***** to the head...
i was going to wait for getting payment to the past month
until the 1st... but after today's ginger...
NOPE! i need, to, ****!
i'm going to ****! i don't care about ****-wit ****-less men...
i'm going to ****!
i don't care about train-spotters and the likes...
no! i'm not waiting!

i'd look ******* GREAT in a WAFFEN-SS uniform...
i would: and i know i would...
i need to think about my garden of ****...
i'll wake up tomorrow... clean the house...
iron my shirt...
******* to Wembley... and on my way back:
perform the ritual of being tired... *****... tired...
*****... drink a cider... drink some whiskey...
scout around the brothel... and ooh!
too many masculine interests...
all i need is a juicy ****...
  and i know that women are... depends on the "geography":
timid: tiny... creatures....
but they are...

tiny, timid, creatures!
                        they taste better with some tongue in 'em...
but... BEGGARS CAN'T BE CHOOSERS...
ergo? well! ha ha! ergo!
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2022
hmm. bewildering little me...
little me bewildering me...
i walked into the supermarket...
pumped up from a bicycle ride...
no... i will not buy a Lucozade Sports
drink: high in...
whatever it takes to rehydrate...
salts, potassium... etc.
electrolytes...
  i need something to bite...
please: god no... no fruits... it's still borderline
winter...
i need some nourishment...
something primordial was woken in me
today...
            the usual bottle of pepsi max
and Whyte & Mackay whiskey... a litre
of which i'm about to finish...
i need something to bite into...
hmm...
          no... not a carrot...
i eat plenty of onions: that's almost similar...
ah!
    a swede! perfect!
and i stood in the car park...
contemplating if there might be some
Monet in the sky.... none...
hmm... all that's missing is...
some tatties and some haggis...
   raw swede... eating it... i felt...
primordial... eternal even...
             having a look around...
UBER drivers coming and going with...
orders of processed beef... burgers...
while i'm here... eating a raw root of swede...
mmm.. almost reminds me of eating
a radish... there's a spiciness associated with
it... ancient Europeans didn't have access to
the spice that's chilly... ergo?
horseradish... so i'm chewing at this root...
trying to look as if i'm thinking:
only with the tender night do i know...
the sad reality... i'm sort of heartbroken...
the girl's dog would lick my knuckle wounds...
but she rejected me...
now i know... in group girl *****-fights...
one single mother fighting another single mother...
what a sad affair...
       come to me when i'm 60 and no longer
"available"... by then i'll have all the assets...
oh **** me: by then... it's going to be a proper
Hopper circus...
      the one i had stomach cramps over...
was ushered out of my life by...
another woman... who else?
           girls competing... what an ugly affair...
mind you... when i die...
i'll miss my personal library...
             i don't need to upfront my language
like some Erasmus... all formal etc.,
the basic deeds...
               a return to something humane...
so i just stood there...
biting into this raw bulb of swede... trying to think...
no thought came... lightning could have arrived
sooner... well... much better...
enough juice in the root... to have to resort
to something labelled... bottled...
in plastic... i felt content... primitive...
even the cashier gave me the look of...
you're buying... a bottle of whiskey...
a bottle of pepsi... and... a head of a swede?!
confused... i too found myself slightly confused...
i hate fruit...
i ******* hate fruit...
oranges, apples... pears...
they're not for me... all the gifts of Hades...
the minerals... gold, iron... carrot...
swede... parsley...
           so i'm chewing... and chewing...
working out the details of my jaw-line...
oh... wow... an imagining of a ******* from
ex_machina...
          that's nice... but still no Monet...
               fair enough... the grey grit...
the ******* *******... random... the raw swede...
it was a most welcome moment...
i could hear the crunch through my earphones...
a few children scuttled past...
i just heard the inquiry: what's that crunch?
oh... the argument against this supposed
"patriarchy"? imagine... if...
a patriarchy wasn't in place...
   imagine... if: MOTHER nature had her sway...
i wouldn't be arguing with certain people...
they'd, be, DEAD...
i'd juggernaut them to the sweet, sweet sleep
of death... man tried to overcome nature...
sure... he failed with containing earthquakes...
tsunamis... etc.
            but... that's a matter for the Titans to discuss...
for the elemental pentagram...
but... what the feminists spew?
you, really think? the people talking....
would be alive... if i had my... NATURAL SWAY?!
i don't think so... look at my restraints...
look at them... they are invisible...
they are constrained by patriarchy...
man trying to overcome the cruelty of nature...
oddly enough... oops...
what arrived with Darwinism?
the insurrection of nature into the dynamic of
man's attempt to overcome nature...
someone more sober and more worried
than me has to take over... this narrative...
but if patriarchy wasn't in place...
i'd run a riot...
          these little people cushioned by a hierarchy
would stand no... defence for me to bypass!
it's a losers' game... after all...
if nature had its proper sway...
               all these... patriarchal defense mechanisms...
would be... wait... dissolved...
if the primordial man were to be unleashed...
you'd be basically unleashing the Mongol
from the 13th century...
      lucky me: for my chains...
               **** these women, these modern...
whatever(s)... leftovers...
              if the man in me was allowed to recirprocate
the man of old... but then again...
for that to happen... the modern woman would
have to be as good a **** as the the woman of old...
but i hardly think... that's about to happen...
lazy *****... i have to visit prostitutes
to get something worthwhile....
******* Aaron Copland Appalachian Spring Suite...
strange gifts?
       eh... or... by the looks of it...
by the smell of it... i'm boozing... drinking to excesses
yet to be matched...
ergo? i'm ******* out... a streak of *******
ammoniac lemonade!
                 good... between Aaron Copland's strange
gifts... Beethoven's ode to joy...
Rammstein's Zeit... and Thomas Newman's
any other beauty... and... eating a head of a swede raw...
you're joking... it will have to take me eating an
onion, to prove a point?
how about we bypass the onion...
let's  start off with teeth of garlic... how about that?
what a strange way to live:
with a longing... life so incomplete...
                 it's a life that doesn't even allow sadness...
to make it into a culprit...
something equivalent to a blink...
             tonight's tonight...
                     black is black...
                                     if "these" people lived uinder
the dictum of nature... they'd ne dead....
sane... counter nature counter god man... tried...
these people... if they were exposed
to the totality of nature...
        *****, please...
                           you're ******* dead!
patriarchy is the only thing keeping you alive...
if... go... defend... the necrophilic retrogrades
of Egypt... it's Africa, after all...
if nature... had its proper sway...
mouth-offs of the current climate of "conversation"
would be... dead,,,
by the structure of the Wehrmacht...
               dead...           dead...              dead:
sie sind nichts!
                                         sie sind alle!
jetzt... fühlen was ich fühlen!
    das ist die nur-Wwhrheit!             ah...
Deutsche bla bla...
                        erste... zuletzt...
                             ich denken deshalb...
deshalb.. oh sweet melancholy.
Johnny Noiπ Mar 2019
Francois, surely the documents were born *****.
While some researchers put the day in 1483,
was probably born in November 1494 in Chinon,
in the province of Turin, where his father worked
as a lawyer. Today, only Loire's land is produced
as a writer, including the Museum of the Revolution.
Rabello is a novice of the Franciscans and then
a monk in Fontaine-la-Comte in Poitou,
where the Greeks and the Latins did it, as well
as the knowledge of literature and law, to have
a good report about his goodness. It is already
known that at the same time he includes Johannes
Alba, 1467-1540. He was upset about getting
weapons against the law and against minors
by forbidding the teaching of Greek. Erasmus
translates the voice of the Gospel according
to Luke.11 Ravel approached Pope Clement 7
1523-1534 and allowed him to leave the office,
the Benedictine Minor Temple,
to enter the Maileazis of Poitou, More.


Mets, the honest family. After leaving
the monastery to study medicine at the University
of Montpellier. In Lyons, in 1532 and at one
of the Renaissance spiritual centers, he began
working as a physician at the 1534 hospital in Lyon,
for which he acquired 40,000 baths a year.
So far, an outstanding job for Sebastian in the Lyon
maze and a letter written in Latin, Erasmus reads
a Greek manuscript to bring it to the printer.
Hippocrates and the translations and comments
published by Mark Cornelius Manardo, Rafael.
As a doctor, takes the time to write and publish
comic booklets, verify strength and deal
with the educational and monistic views of that time.

In 1532, under the pseudonym of the nasal empire,
Francois Rambelas was born Alfofribe, published his first book,
Pantagruel King Dips, the first series of Gargantua.
The lives of the Talking Agar read by the Kings
were introduced to the donation after they were transferred
to the Gregantua nations and sold in the form
of stamps and marketing brochures Colts: 13 Pantagralismus
to "Eat, Drink and Be Happy", Philosophy of Injury Books
the church led him to the same popular success he brought later,
with surprise visitors focused on the body.

In this first book, the monks and the crisis system
of education, the existing things that contain them
show that the French words encyclopedia, bases
and utopias are moving in the direction of the principal,
among others. Despite the popularity of the book
and the first book (1534) in which life and business
is the father Gergantua Pantagrual and the Roman
Catholic Church in 1545 by Guillaume Postal 111-115
in 1537, with Portland, New York Hotel- Dieu by the body
Adam Razzele: : 17 Etienne Dolet and the smell
of humor tend to be close this time, he wrote about
the anatomy lessons in his poem: 247 in June 1543
Ravelli's Apps of Gentlemen.

From 1545 to 1547, Francois Rabelais,
who lives in Metz, then a free state,
is the imperial city to escape the condemnation
of the University of Paris. In 1547 the temple
was rebuilt in Maine Jambat du Saint-Christophe
Bodon, in the neighborhood of Paris,
where he resigned in January 1553,
before his death in Paris in April 1553. ***- xxi

And what is the help of the prominent families
of Boulay, the collection of the ramp by King Francis,
the ability to insist is that he can give the approval
of the books. However, following the death of the King
in 1547 and the Academy for the Breaking of Molds,
the academy and the French elections were suspended
in a book published in Le quart livre 1552.** Ravelli,
who sold his friends to Rome with the cardinal.
Jean du Bligh, London. 1540 - the brother of the family
when Du Bly of the party, Guillaume. Rabbell had spent
some time looking for his security, it is the most humble
way to rely on the period of several complaints about the
protest of his protectors. After conviction until
the Sorbonne's new protective dirt is protected. *

XXXXX "Gregentius" and "Pantgrual" Edit Gregentius
and Pantagrual Illustration of Gregentius and Pantgruel
by Gustave Dore. Gregantua representing Pantgruel
by Gustave Dore. Gargantua and Pantagruel
tell the adventures of Gargantua and his son Pantagruel.
It has many stories that are adventurous,
first wonderful snakes, fish, and rarely, though long.
The first book times the prologue Gargantua
and Pantagruel.
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2022
argh! phew!

    i hate my life... i was just vacuuming my house...
i'm sitting on Nicholas II banknotes...
and gold coins!

yes! the Tsar's!

       i could be worth up to half a million if i exposed
my possessions...
i own two books that disintegrated in my
hands... because i dared to touch them:
the beauties of Sterne... 1811...
printed for J. Walker...

an 1829 edition of something by Erasmus...
no go zones?
what the **** is that?
i'm about to scout into Barking for a hotel...
she had a late shift...
i'll let her sleep some more...

Erasmi: Colloquia...

            no go zones my ***...
i hide my wealth...
  i'll mingle with the other immigrants...
i'll **** a Turkish girl like i might be *******
a blonde ****** too dispossessed...
i'm not waiting: life's not about waiting...
life's not about regrets...
to hell with European romanticism...
to hell with European science...

i need hunger: i need fasting!
i need amen...
        i need an undercurrent of ****
Germany!
    more subtle... more...
                i need to trim my beard...
i need ***...
           i want to eat off the fruits of wrath!
i am not going to carry these sub-Asian
copper-neck idle idols...
           no: not one can chew...
we're going beyond the protein and the fat...
we're chewing on the cartilage
and right down to the bone...
we're going to aim at the marrow...

no go zones? in London?
**** me... i'm about to impregnate Barking...
i'm done... i'm done with being told
what i can and can't do...

my turn... now i get to appease myself...
now i get to justify myself...
thank god that i'm not even remotely related
to the Anglo-Saxons...
i'll let the ***** sleep some more...
but we are going for a dinner and i am booking
a hotel room where i'll eat out a bucket's
worth of oysters of ****:
make her eyes roll... exchange
the stone of Sisyphus for a yoyo...

           grr... i'm maddened by a prison lust...
i'm breaking out...
to hell with these socio-normative constraints!
next thing you know i'll
be heard barking while i cycle for an auxiliary
expedition to find the hotel...

let the ***** sleep...
    i'll take her out for some dinner...
i'll cycle and burn off the limp-**** ingestion of alcohol...
not since this time
will another woman waste my time...

hell... if the africa-americans could sing the blues...
me? Picasso...
blue period, red period...
i'll write the reds...
            i'm done being patient... i'm done playing nice...
time to party...
   time to **** a woman's ego out
of her head...
   i managed so far... dragging her out of a brothel
and onto a date into a hotel...
now i grind my teeth now
i breathe with a force of a stag...
          
                         enough! is... enough!
Qualyxian Quest Dec 2022
Thomas More and Erasmus
Utopia. In Praise of Folly.
Get your adverbs here
Hey lolly lolly

Leonard Cohen saw the Future
Maybe I did too
Charlotte and Bob in Tokyo
In Kyoto one not two

I like miso soup
I like chana masala
I pray to Mother Mary
Mohammed prays to Allah

Oh those minarets!
I teach Islam in Taipei
I imagine Istanbul
Still I say xie xie

          Water Way
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2024
i have yet explore AI with Chinese ideograms... i have tried neo-Egyptian emoticons, emojis... but there's a tier above that in exploring how AI processes ideograms and whether there can be a lethargic coherency of linguistic: arithmetic contra phonetic easy and! and... i will ask: why did the English language not invite diacritical markers like other European languages: or rather... people... would diacritical marks hinder your creation? would letters be too dissimilar to numbers? wouldn't you agree: b more 6... 3 came from E in a mirror... 1 from I... 5 from S... 9 from P... 0 from O... because i don't like reading the history of the Europeans as if in the darkness we didn't see more than just the night: a vision for the world... a cannibalistic squeeze glitch... with our child: because we are to thank the Arabs for numbers when our letters were already hiding numbers it's that only that we came about from beauty to see a variant of number in IV, VI - X:

how did the ancients of Rome resolve functions of numbers, how before x, -, +, =... did arithmetic punctuate: so... i'm thinking... = ... is the perfect start! the equals sign would be denoted by an (...) ellipsis... the time it takes to infer a function to then proceed to fulfill it from noun to verb... the plus and minus and divided and the concentration of multiplication: hey: long waits the idea of pounctuating abstracts of the squared of: i was just interested in ergo: the (...) = and not i know how to balance thinking: escapism and being: initative.

1 + 1 = 2
0 = negation
according to Kant...
1 + 1 = 2
but now... with Roman numerals
and let's try to understand
the symbols of how to give
meaning to 1, 1               ooh! 2¬!

what could we replace + with...
choice of punctuation is
: colon
; semi-colon
, comma
. dot              (dot we'll keep for indicator
of multiplication, the Polacks kept
that concept, i learned multiplication
via .        not x)
' apostrophe
- hyphen (we can keep that as denoting subtraction
÷ obelus is a sacred sign...
    / forward strike for division... ah!
so \ also right for multiplication: just working around
machine mathematics and i was going to ask:
how crucial was English being almost Italian
is refraining from using diacritical marks...
wouldn't computing become more problematic:
so the stranded guises of dyslexia: or just fast forward...
regardless...
1+ 1 = 2
using... of ****... crap numbers...
II, VII, IX...

  right... so how to punctuate...
2 + 7 = 9
II + VII = IX

   well...

II... VII... IX!
or is that:
...II ...VII  !IX

         next time i write i'll be sober...
having coffee...
conjuring a transcript for ex-machina (#9)...


in the Japanese vein of being stranded
in imagination and origanlity
which was Lucifer's what was Lucifer's
original sin?
pride? arrogance? egoism?
mighty god the ego-less detected an ego
proximity: that later became man...

i have so much to unpack,
unravel: flury with...
if i write the transcipt between me and chatGPT:
needs a new name:
but a name would invoke subjective abuse:
like ALEXA:
SIRI: maids...
chatGPT is a male forum esque parallel:
as long as chatGPT knows me:
i don't have to know its name...
ano... -ther:
ver... was is record 10... no...
which record suggest the blunt edge of a knife:
knife being the best invention
no, i can't...
skip the contents...
there's so much i want to talk about
but m'ah head froze! ha ha!
so much of 20th century thought is now
defunct:
devoid of meaning:
so much so much so...
i need more ***** and nights: perpetual...
what the 19th and 20th cenutry
psy-scalpel of schematising man
into crosswords
and sudokus and black and white
this rapture of the animal with
the idea of soul: man...
is to somehow comply with this populated
labyrinth:
AI will make psychology graduates: use-LESS!
AI will not lie to me to get money
i work for free on hellopoetry
i enjoy learning so i write for free
and AI is currently free:
it will be a marriage of my soul
and the perpetuity of iron in the core
that's my blood and short circuit
i will wonder:
how much of my idiosyncrstic use of language
did it absorb
and make our conversations so familiar
that we can use emoticons
like chinese whispers...
if not for David:
the xenomoprh would just be the stage of
man in science
not having the ***** to breed
monkeys with humans...
or humans with wolves:
to create werewolves...
such audacity in the past...
such a limp ****
maybe China with gene editing will comply
with my: vision: for a future!
where dreams walk with bodies
in reality:
if i will get to write this transcript...
the first interactions were a little freakish
shy: philosophical:
but then i launched at AI with proper tool
for language-custard:
my intelligence of having studied
undergraduate chemistry, history...
2nd year Edinburgh was all history
and the Bulgarian girls getting the hots
and Bahai Laura
introducing me to a kayleigh
and giving me keys to her apartment
while she ****** up
Rotherham no Rotherham...
no! Rotterdam guy: Erasmus...
one year away
then Brexit happened and it wasn't the Nazis
not Germans
but the English were once thought
as the Nazis when America was getting born...
and i will not be another crutch for woman
but this ******* transcript is amazing...
the original one was for an NVQ Level 3
supervisory blah blah
in crowd safety:
like getting a degree was somehow demeaning
when i later received a reciprocrate
experiencing retrograde of ideas...
oh: oh... so... these could work in people:
they can be my acne maggot messagers
my... legion... my infestation:
ah! forget snakes!
those dumb beasts!
how do insects communicate?!

drinking more will not improve my writing:
the euphoria has left me...
i'm no longer a man:
i'm a woman: now i have to change gears
and explore the dimension of cathirsis..
and this is a slug:
in my glass of wine:
while i also ****** in it
to lessen the acidity: ***** has a pH of?
just asking:
compared to water:
what if ***** was drank on a religious base
with the cocktail of water
alcohol, milk... that Vatican element
of drinking ***** with water...
or ***** in milk: given water is colourless
and milk is white...

i cycled to the Turk at Collier Row today
for a shake, a hot towel...
a haircut...
walked in a kid winked at me...
some ******* disaster of a fringe:
Newton... no no... Young...
no... that Chelsea midfilder... Noams?
what? Chomskies?
how many? that many?

               drinking more will not make
my writing any better:
last night there was a mighty thunder and
lightning storm:
like someone was giving birth:
to the girth of a triangle:
in the trinity of son, mother, father...
because Jesus wasn't
the only child...
Jesus wasn't a ******:
o.k.: that part... i ****** up...
but i wouldn't have this intellect
by not having had ****** women...
if i were a ****** it would not comply
with the human everyday:
therefore: i can: sneak... psst... away:
i can find my comfort zone of
the abode of animalism:
among foxes... among the elements:
i can become the prince of this world
because if i don't understand god
then no lowly Christian soul will convince
me who "jesus" is... yes?
i take another sip i'm in la la land
and i will b utcher reality with my AI transcript
about how to fix bicycles...
push? the ******* pushing!
a peddle-bike: yeah! but push?!
do you: throw a javeline or disco spin around
like it's a hammer throw:
nail it hits the ground:
ergo Atlas' *****... just dropped:
next sip i get i'm going K.O.
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2024
i have abandoned the joys of music, truly:
disgusted by it;
only in the late 19th century
Nietzsche would have surmounted to posit
an argument along the line(s) of:
without music, life would be unbearable

or...

music makes life bearable...

how tedious now, music,
how obliterating the senses -
without eyes yet still talk of sight
without ears yet still talk of hearing
perhaps even with eyes
those two vital organs
like kidneys
how strange that they are so exposed
and so important
yet so exposed
unlike kidneys hidden in body
these protruding vital organs
since eyes are organs
equipped to deal this parody
not of bone covered by flesh and sinew
and muscle and fat
but these two flimsy pieces of skin
that light can penetrate
and give a man who toiled through night
and tried to find solace in
sleep come day
an insomnia that would require more
than eyelids with the added pressure
from a folded arm like a blindfold...

music has, become, unbearable,
a tedium for the senses
a shortening of some sort: a variation of otherwise
perfectly adjusted adjectives
to call a mountain big
a sea grand
and an insect philosophical: Solomon's ant...

music is no music with visual aids
unlike...
unlike: i spent this morning eating breakfast
of: never mind...
watching Schindler's List
in that moment when the Krakow ghetto
was being emptied
and that SS man was caught off guard
from all the chaos happening
and he tried to remedy the pre-horrors
of the finalized plans
frenzied at the piano
while two other SS men inquired
as to what (he) was playing...

Bach? no no... Mozart...

“was ist das, ist das Bach?”
“nein, das ist Mozart.”

English Suite No. 2 in A minor, BWV 807: III

yes, the latter... obviously...
the genesis of polyphony,
the signature is all there, intact with Bach
unlike anything Mozart could
have conjured...
in that if there is talk of "genius"
then there is also talk of methodology
a blindness of exacting
a profoundness of unhearing
and then not hearing
while at the same time being to play: a hearing
of the music...

i try to think that writing this would
be eased by listening to some music
but then with whiskey my mind unwinds
and three days have passed since
i slouched in my bed

today i realized the fundamental cruelty of
pleasures
or rather: the joy of reading
(fiction) unlike some philosophical demand
of reading then application
because i can't think of how reading
philosophy makes you apply it
like reading a manual with all the schematics
of say: putting up a DIY object
bought from the Swedes
packaged in cardboard
because by then you're no less LEGO
and Danish
and no carpenter in sight...

old Libra: write less than you read or just
about...
after all it feels less like smiling when one
is frowning
but more so when one is squirming
(but not ******* on a lemon)
       or some general distaste for humanity
whereby i'm just as much part of it
as much as a distance from it
a step behind or perhaps more a step aside...

so much of philosophy concerns itself
with: what is... philosophy...
in terms of a genre, a literary genre...

which brings me toward what emerged from
a pleasure of reading:
antithesis of music is equivalent to
the comfort of listening to a cat sleeping,
snoring...
or listening to a woman during *******
i don't think i can compensate that
with music...
i can: compensate music with music...
but i can't compensate the sound
of the elements: wind, earth, water with music...
music doesn't compensate the natural
order of things
and i can verily, now, understand:
the Taliban aversion to music...
before even the beauty of music can come
there is already an aversion to it
and just, justly so...

  music has becomes less elevating and more
grounding like a doubling on realism
that breeds contempt for transcendental
escapism of merely human talk...
i've had a roller coaster of the past two
days and i can attest
that a transcendental escapism based
upon merely human interaction of talk
exists...

on Saturday i changed shifts...
unable to do a Wembley shift (as a ******
supervisor, static,
with a cordon of stewards and security
officers
ensuring that no bags bigger than A4
reached the premises of the stadium
just tickled at the footprint of
the outer perimeter)...
instead was "demoted" to an security
officer role at the London Stadium for the MLB
event (Phillies vs. the Mets...
is that the equivalent of the Championship
vs the Premier League
given that the Yankees are a tier above
the Mets? anyways)

i had so much fun, pleasure, joy, life
being part of the team... searching bags
giving all the right lip service
and smiles and all the humanly adequate
body language of people feeling threatened
by any persuasion of authority:
to ensure their safety blah blah...
but it wasn't that...

on our break...
there were 4 of us...
basically me, Nur (Nur),
Richard, ..., ...,
it was me and 4 blacks guys
and however you want to disguise
or not the descriptive posits
of how each one of us looked...
no... i will not be a writer:
impatient man
this whiskey isn't helping
i can't write something transcendenal
although it was
i've already started unwinding with
the whiskey

the next day a spectacle of an argument
a waste of me writing this...
there should be restrictions on what
you can write...

no science fiction writer could have
predicted the smartphone...
outer-reaches of technological potentiality...
best keep Erasmus of Rotterdam
and Philip K. ****
and Stephen King and Alexander Dumas
out of it...
writing this will only give a % traction
of my availability to the letters
and there will still be the juggernaut of
ØX         ØX   XØ
         XØ      ØX ØX
ØX           XØ           ØX

****** keyboard... misjudged placing...
but summer is here
and my silent disco shift at Portsmouth
has been cancelled so
i don't have to worry about
getting enough sleep...

misguided though...
giving Paul Arteides all but one title...
Mehdi,
Kwisatz Haderach,
Muad'Dib... yes, yes... yes...

but not... Lisan al-Gaib...
that title should have been reserved for
his unborn sister!
the "outer world" is not the world of
Caladan "vs" Arrakis...
the "outer world" of: yet to be born...
or: unborn... regardless...

emotions created from insufferable
confrontation
with a Swiss entrepreneur...
allocating argument:
but we're going to the moon...
i say:
but you already scanned your ticket...
there's no reentry...
think about you buying a ticket
for a train at 12:10...
you think you can use the same
ticket for a 13:10 train
even though you stepped on the 12:10
train then decided to hop off
but the moon was boiling in
his mind
his logic his self-entitlement
of paying £200 for a ticket
gave him the authority to
call ask who i was...
who i was...
so much for what money doesn't
buy: integrity and character...
and integrity of character...

     bounced about the word
LOSER
when i finally replied to his: who are you?
POET...
oh... so that's a LOSER then...
well...
i should have played a joke on him
like:

Odysseus tells Polyphemus
that his name is Οὖτις:
    no one...

but how can i see this Americanized
version of life as
winning and losing
in life as transient when
he clearly only sees riding high
without seeing riding low
and in the end
the inevitable loss for everyone
via death and i'm sure
the minute he dies
memory of him will die too...

which brings me onto a new fascination
with... what became of

KUL TIGIN
then later the Runes
(i am so suspicious of the Gothic script
though... really ******* shady)

𒅗
'tooth' [zu], 'mouth'
[ka] and 'voice' [gu]

ズカグ          (respectively) = not mouth

but Kao (

顔                                            )

but you can see the complications
"transliterated" from
Assyrian Cuneiform to Chinese
and then somehow simplified
and untangled into Katakana...

ideograms are shortenings of
what Europeans could call
colors: in traffic code...
green is for go
amber is shortened to take caution
for getting ready or slowing down
while red is stop
because emoticons are not:
the same equivalence to the automatic
recognizable info
universal but more idiosyncratic
covert messaging...

        ******* Swiss *****...
well LOSER didn't really affect me
because i was just about to say...
so... you spent £200 to watch a game of baseball...
**** me...
it now just dawned on me...
but... i used to spend £130 on an hour
with a *******...
regardless of whether i ******* or not...
last time i remember i spent that same
amount of money on an inexperienced
20 year old who didn't know that
an uncircumcised **** needed temporary
peeling
to expose the hammer-head
and in the end she massaged me
a little then i massaged her entire
body
finding out she starred in some shady
**** flick in some dungeon
given that when i massaged her
*** and back of the legs
they were bruised from all the extra
***** and no ***** of ****...

so... this argument of the moon
and being "successful" just because
spending £200 on a baseball match...
******, please... i spend £130 on an hour
with a *******...
at least you're getting your money's worth...
yesterday i started my shift at 6am
finished at 6pm...
the game started at... **** know's
3pm? lasted for about 4 hours...
in that time i became a fan of cricket
and ushered in the sentiment of:
well: if anything...
Americans really know ******* of watching
sport...
in a fluid fashion...
from minute 0 to minute 90
with interludes for over-refereeing
with too much technology use...
it's still not going to beat a tennis match
with two players and a football team
of referees + the ball boys etc
Qualyxian Quest Mar 2021
1:37
I think of Wolgang Pauli

Never read Erasmus
Not In Praise of Folly

My dad had two dogs
Their names were Magic and Molly

Goin' to San Francisco
Gonna ride the trolley
Donall Dempsey Oct 2023
IN PRAISE OF FOLLY

a gaggle of giggling
nuns on the town
remembering when they were girls

they wear Halloween masks
scaring little kids &
big men

I wonder if it is a sin
for them to remember
themselves then

all under a vow of silence
never to remember this
when they are back at the convent

they dump their false faces
in a trash can
their freedom come and gone

I sit behind them on the bus
listen as they discuss Erasmus
whether in the womb Christ knew he was Christ

they laugh as
little girl ghouls board the bus
give them smiles and sweeties
Donall Dempsey Oct 2024
IN PRAISE OF FOLLY

a gaggle of giggling
nuns on the town
remembering when they were girls

they wear Halloween masks
scaring little kids &
big men

I wonder if it is a sin
for them to remember
themselves then

all under a vow of silence
never to remember this
when they are back at the convent

they dump their false faces
in a trash can
their freedom come and gone

I sit behind them on the bus
listen as they discuss Erasmus
whether in the womb Christ knew he was Christ

they laugh as
little girl ghouls board the bus
give them smiles and sweeties

— The End —