Prague Poems

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music for the night bus no. 86 from romford to stratford
by Matthew Conrad

i've slouched on the outskirts of London for too long, and not that i'm bored of London (which would be indicative of me being bored of life - samuel johnson, 1777 - truly, London is the womb of over 200 languages, there's no other place on earth like this, it's as if the whole world, in proportion came to congregate in London and settle for the final judgement)... but London is too generic in the middle, and you have to hunt around the east end, or fare better in the west end, but who the hell bothers with the west end these days? besides the point... i just miss travelling: mir und mein shatten... as ever, alone is best, dumping my body into a hostel - 40+ is the limit of not staying in a hostel - then again... who knows... i've been craving this weekend for as long as i can remember... well... since i've learned of the Pont des Arts... twice in Paris and i never saw it... damn it... where else? well... there's still Berlin in my mind... but first comes first... Prague... and to prove a point, i've become a reformed alcoholic... i've cut down the dosage... so i could save up for the trip... here's me going to visit my grandparents in Poland, roughly two months, sometime in late August early September... two months, that will give me enough savings... plus i have to finish the Sienkiewicz trilogy - Pan Wołodyjowski remains to be read and no one is going to read it for me... and i did buy that excellent copy of Boris Pasternak's classic: that's not going to read itself... plus circa two months without the internet... what joy... what joy looking at a page without light emanating from behind the words... and the smell... the scent of a book... and the odd cartoon flicking of the entire book to feel that bibliophilic breeze... oh the joy... it feels like a sparrow just flew into my heart and decided to pursue a perpetual spring... god knows the last time i became lost in a foreign city without any knowledge of the foreign tongue... obviously Polish will not help me, among the Czechs... i've been warned... when the Warsaw Pact tanks rode into the Czechoslovakia, the Soviets sent in Polish tanks, in 1968... mighty fine... i'll just slither in... speak my chamaleon accent to a decent British standard, perhaps sly a few Essex slang slosh for an increased authenticity... and then i'll ask the Czechs about their tourist opinions, regarding, say, Cracow... oh right... i was going to post these musings from my frequent travels on the no. 86 bus from... well N25 from oxford st. to stratford and then the N86 from stratford to romford... capital of essex... i just can't get enough of the east end sometimes... the grime of it, the calm collected inverted-claustrophiobia... hell... high noon... a guy walking around the street biting gas canister tips... bottles of whatever chemical high he was performing... probably beats sniffing glue, but who knows... and the current epidemic in london and on the outskirts... the streets are littered with them: LISS CO2 cartriges - 16g ones... i've heard they put nitrous oxide in them... but to be honest? i haven't heard anyone laughing... well, apart from myself... when i used to drink to excess.
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.i respected bukowski for a while, nay, i venerated him, but when i heard how sloppy he was while drinking, making so many mistakes, sending his shit off to the editor, i lost interest... and for all the good reasons... a one time prospect of a father in law once "reminded" me, that my father should have been a pornstar with his looks, well, he was chosen to be in the equivalence of the queen's guard under the conscription rules, back in the day, Poland circa 1980s... only the handsome made it, to be used in state functions, funerals, shooting blanks into the air... i wasn't so lucky, listen, if the Scandinavians were the first to pick up traces of Chernobyll... and that happened in April, and i was born on the 15th of May... i was bound to be affected... mutant: i don't reject god, i've seen things that would make people walk with a bow (bau)... and never look up at the night sky... i also didn't have the luck of my father: going into the army would have been best, even my parents thought that me getting a degree in chemistry was a good thing, apparently: it isn't... i had all the required characteristics of an organized man, until i left high-school... waking up for 9am learning sessions, doing 4 A-levels while everyone else did 3... and working my ass off to better my GCE... aced the history exams, i was even renowed in school at the brain-child of the subject: received a reward: worst jobs in history, by tony robinson... a midly intimidating affair being less a nerd, and more a buff... namely? well, you kind of begin feeling awkward when they're talking about nazis in school, and the history teacher points at you, and says: the nazis would have only spared, him... the rest of you: into the "filing cabinet" of the ovens of auschwitz... oh yeah: feels great man, i'm the only one left standing, good to know.

david hand
(1933) -
dave fleischer
1942 superman
cartoons..

......

Continue reading
Recent Prague Poems
music for the night bus no. 86 from romford to stratford
by Matthew Conrad

i've slouched on the outskirts of London for too long, and not that i'm bored of London (which would be indicative of me being bored of life - samuel johnson, 1777 - truly, London is the womb of over 200 languages, there's no other place on earth like this, it's as if the whole world, in proportion came to congregate in London and settle for the final judgement)... but London is too generic in the middle, and you have to hunt around the east end, or fare better in the west end, but who the hell bothers with the west end these days? besides the point... i just miss travelling: mir und mein shatten... as ever, alone is best, dumping my body into a hostel - 40+ is the limit of not staying in a hostel - then again... who knows... i've been craving this weekend for as long as i can remember... well... since i've learned of the Pont des Arts... twice in Paris and i never saw it... damn it... where else? well... there's still Berlin in my mind... but first comes first... Prague... and to prove a point, i've become a reformed alcoholic... i've cut down the dosage... so i could save up for the trip... here's me going to visit my grandparents in Poland, roughly two months, sometime in late August early September... two months, that will give me enough savings... plus i have to finish the Sienkiewicz trilogy - Pan Wołodyjowski remains to be read and no one is going to read it for me... and i did buy that excellent copy of Boris Pasternak's classic: that's not going to read itself... plus circa two months without the internet... what joy... what joy looking at a page without light emanating from behind the words... and the smell... the scent of a book... and the odd cartoon flicking of the entire book to feel that bibliophilic breeze... oh the joy... it feels like a sparrow just flew into my heart and decided to pursue a perpetual spring... god knows the last time i became lost in a foreign city without any knowledge of the foreign tongue... obviously Polish will not help me, among the Czechs... i've been warned... when the Warsaw Pact tanks rode into the Czechoslovakia, the Soviets sent in Polish tanks, in 1968... mighty fine... i'll just slither in... speak my chamaleon accent to a decent British standard, perhaps sly a few Essex slang slosh for an increased authenticity... and then i'll ask the Czechs about their tourist opinions, regarding, say, Cracow... oh right... i was going to post these musings from my frequent travels on the no. 86 bus from... well N25 from oxford st. to stratford and then the N86 from stratford to romford... capital of essex... i just can't get enough of the east end sometimes... the grime of it, the calm collected inverted-claustrophiobia... hell... high noon... a guy walking around the street biting gas canister tips... bottles of whatever chemical high he was performing... probably beats sniffing glue, but who knows... and the current epidemic in london and on the outskirts... the streets are littered with them: LISS CO2 cartriges - 16g ones... i've heard they put nitrous oxide in them... but to be honest? i haven't heard anyone laughing... well, apart from myself... when i used to drink to excess.
____________________________________________________________________________

.i respected bukowski for a while, nay, i venerated him, but when i heard how sloppy he was while drinking, making so many mistakes, sending his shit off to the editor, i lost interest... and for all the good reasons... a one time prospect of a father in law once "reminded" me, that my father should have been a pornstar with his looks, well, he was chosen to be in the equivalence of the queen's guard under the conscription rules, back in the day, Poland circa 1980s... only the handsome made it, to be used in state functions, funerals, shooting blanks into the air... i wasn't so lucky, listen, if the Scandinavians were the first to pick up traces of Chernobyll... and that happened in April, and i was born on the 15th of May... i was bound to be affected... mutant: i don't reject god, i've seen things that would make people walk with a bow (bau)... and never look up at the night sky... i also didn't have the luck of my father: going into the army would have been best, even my parents thought that me getting a degree in chemistry was a good thing, apparently: it isn't... i had all the required characteristics of an organized man, until i left high-school... waking up for 9am learning sessions, doing 4 A-levels while everyone else did 3... and working my ass off to better my GCE... aced the history exams, i was even renowed in school at the brain-child of the subject: received a reward: worst jobs in history, by tony robinson... a midly intimidating affair being less a nerd, and more a buff... namely? well, you kind of begin feeling awkward when they're talking about nazis in school, and the history teacher points at you, and says: the nazis would have only spared, him... the rest of you: into the "filing cabinet" of the ovens of auschwitz... oh yeah: feels great man, i'm the only one left standing, good to know.

david hand
(1933) -
dave fleischer
1942 superman
cartoons..

......

Continue reading
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