Matthew Conrad

May 15, 1986 - Ostrowiec Świętokrzyski
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the "sex drive" of swans

bird brain: pigeon coo!
and "god" and "the word" became exhausted
within the scaffold of onomatopoeia(s) -

one vodka two vodkas:
three vodkas... drum-rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrroll...

if ever the inverted uvula tickle
bound to both:a rhapsody in rattle
and... a snake...

ssssssserpetine clues of:
how shit, outside the realm of atoms...
seems to to just: stick together...
better than the already governing
explanation spiral?

is the money i saved worth a weekend
away in Prague?
jerking off my shadow... or...
is that: "my most dire time of need"
bound to a Bulgarian prostitute
in a brothel 2 minutes walk
from Goodmayes St.
in the outer east East London
nibbling on the confine of Essex?

ask an Arab... the harem of walruses...
perhaps it's too much Darwinism
of a culture and of a narrative...
beside the narrative of
scientific pragmatism, of:
the tooth fairies collected enough
teeth from the sleeping
children and out came the orbit
of the moon -

macabre puzzlebox of a skull...
perhaps came einstein the great chimp-father
with a fungus vector
mushroom cancer from the depths...
or perhaps it was always
the oyster sponge:
third stomach,
third blinking sponge of a shrinking
sensation,
third anus...

chickens and eggs:
perhaps a diet of abortions...
what came first?
the oyster, or the mushroom?
isn't an oyster a kind of fungus?
forbidden "fruit"...
as much as, that, "original" sin,
n'est-ce pas?

what is the tongue?
a tongue is an oyster inside a body,
that transforms into a mushroom
inside the mind...
einstein the great chimp-father...
apples to cider and cider-baths
for all that comes with:
a metal, a fate: rust...
a bone, a fate... dusty sneezing...

but if it were possible to say... so:
i can imagine being in love...
i was stupid enough to be in love...
once...
before the economics of having
to live off more than cow-chew-mein
and at least one stomach short
sort of a freebie diet...

- what could possibly replace
kitten videos as "viral" on the internet?
videos of bears eating fermenting apples...
drunk bears! -

to have only loved once...
or some other mushy variations
before the grand antiques bulwark monstrosity
of boredom clings to the haunting echo of
life...

to have the "sex drive" of swans...
some will claim: to find loneliness again
strapped to the straightjacket of the Louvre...
well... maiden-head! ahoy!
the loneliness of... a widow swan...
did mr. darwin bother to look in
all the right places?
to borrow narratives from all the insects,
from all the mammals,
from all the fish...
does he have... all of them?

what is known as cultural marxism...
requires an antonym...
cultural darwinism...
for all the lightbulbs in a newton
as there are apples in an edison...
noble swan...
birdbrain king and ugly duckling...
but not the harem ugly orgy-glutton...

perhaps the wings of angels
are the brains of swans...
while... we embody...
in this... "celebrated" body...
the ideal that became (the) joke of...
Gans Schritt...
Tausendfüßler März...
gleich schiesse: anders umschlag...

i can't even imagine...
to be first given love (bad ing'leash gwammoor,
looks Velsh!)
and then to be given loneliness...
wow!
not like some sperm-prosthetic-ego-limb...
but like a widow(er)...

to be able to entomb the world
in a mirror of actor-solipsist...
something of that sort...
imagine a language outside of sensible
grammar scaffolding...
onomatopoeia "-esque"
accents of infuriated brush-strokes
on a canvas...
green on grey...
copper in molten-chocolate-mew...
rust in crimson...
an experiment in homogeneity of ethnicity:
thus diluted...
believe me...
i'm all for diluting ethnicity...
i want to see a soothing framework
of synonyms...

but when i want to see a Kandinsky in
writing... all i see is a trigonometry rubric
of sneezing corsets and
bargain guillotines, sold,
to the highest bidder in the name of...
"polite society"...

the sex drive of swans...
the ability to fathom the widow outside
out the cannibalism of spider-intercourse...

as they went to the moon
and said: hush to that fairy-tale riddler...
they took their darling aple and said:
man exhauated imagining god,
exhausted imagining being god...
thus borrowed from a plethora
of hues...
a joke contra the ubermensch...
spider-, bat-,
etc. etc. MAN...

das MANN! HER, MAN!

- to drink and to drink...
and have to state...
write me the sound of a sparrow's song...
and you will write me?
a "picasso"...
a cubism at best...
or some variant...
you will tell me a clenched fist
is prodding on my door
with the index and middle finger
and paint me: KNOCK-KNOCK...

you will read dr zhivago
and tell me of the Rowan tree...
and the waiting wolves...
howling...
you will tell me they were "howling"...
you might even "paint" me:
awooooooooo!

but look how ugly this "god" this "= word"
looks like when the wolf howls
and all you do is depict it as
the howl: awoooo...

crass bargain hunt and the ringing
bells of bollocks!
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