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Joe Cole Dec 2014
Despite being recognized in litery circles
As being the worlds greatest  poet
As a man without equal
With both pen and brush
Despite the fact that all other  writers
Are both mediocre and sub Parr

I Am A  Humble Man
Joe Cole Jan 2015
Are we unjust in our biased views of this man?
Yes
Because we do not understand, do not comprehend
Just what Thee Artiste has to offer
A man of modesty, humility
A man fit to take up quill and ink
This sad and lonely unloved man
Reaches far the beseeching hand
Of friendship
We,we privileged few, we who swore to help
Those so deprived
Of litery and poetic skill
That we should now turn the scornful back
Upon one who does so sadly lack
The art with brush and pen
And so I call upon you my poetic friends
To turn the cheek and make amends
For the insults that we threw
So spread wide your arms
Make free the welcome in your halls
Invite the master through the door
Then kick a Carvo in the *****
Hmmmm
Joe Cole Jan 2014
You all come from many different countries,
from many different walks of of life.
You read here in my daytime,
I read here in your night,
There are so many diverse subjects,
so many diferent styles.
But no matter how or what we write,
our words cross a million miles.
Words can bring us close together,
words can express how we feel.
They can tell of deep emotions,
or feelings of good will.
Complex works of litery skill,
or simple words like mine.
Sent to all corners of the world,
crossing space and time.
No matter how or what we write,
there is a common bond.
Our words bring us close together,
at Hello Poetry....
Gloom Says May 2017
I am crumbled like a paper with inadequate poetry and disowned words.
I am the bad poetry that you hear from an amateur. The one that lacks litery expertise. The one that doesn’t know enough metaphors. The one that fails to rhyme. The one with broken lines. The one that swallows millions stories into a line. The one that need more expertise to be understood than to express. The one that overspills yet fits into mouth just fine. The one you wouldn’t understand. Ever. The one I couldn’t explain to you. Never. The one you would probably hear and dislike at once.

The one that you would hate.

I am that peotry.  

That is short of a melody.
i like watching a football match
on the balcony
because the air is tight
and cold
and i'm living a plagiarism of Knausgaard's
life i am learning to drive
a car and my birthday is coming up
and i'm actually getting **** done
like talking to my fairy godmother
i don't think she knows
my life in Poland
she only only knows my life in England
and in English
she doesn't know that i live
a double life a double lie therefore
the truth
i think of god when i'm alone
and watching a football match
i was going to save that joint
for when i was planning to graduate
with a driving license i was going
to exchange on the black market
of the banana boat men
i was going to lead the catholic revival of England
i would make it my mission to convert
England back to Catholicism
and i would be there
like an Islam
in my Catholicism
i would have the Empires of the Incas
the Aztec
the Spanish Indians
not the English Indians
that Chimera Beast of the British Empire
it would be an Emblem
of a Unicorn and a Chimera:
not a Lion
and there i would put my green cross
on a flag of yellow
i admired the flags of imaginary countries
like the white and black PRussians
i would think about history
without looking at history books
i would be the only stoner in the village
the village Shaman
and this is res cogitans
going to bed with res cogitans
and therefore inflating geating ready
to put on dream armour and

become the Id...
66:30
PSG 1 : ARS 0
agg 2 - 0
and the t.v. is super down low
and grandma i'm only passing
through this couldron of witchy spells
i predicted an Irishman or a Frenchman
to be the next pope
i'm also covering the Election of the Pope
like i am youir fight against Islam
if there is Islam in England
then there is also Catholicism in England
and we are over a BILLION strong
let me flex my muscles
at the University of Warsaw

68:10 a missed pentalty by PSG
not a Spanish
not Americas
let Christianity return to Europe
where it was defended
please let it return to mediate
the English with the Norsemen and translate
to the Low Germans...
that became English
the SWABS and CWIK... some picture
i forgot to take when
walking thinking i'd memorising it
but there's also the Election of the Polish President
and i think i'm kinda patrtiotic in a way
i think the Pope died
when i came back to Poland
or no: that would be nice
but like a Catholic rat i scuttled back
and the media can be protestant
and Anglophile or whatever
the Universal B;lah blah
i'm the SHAMAN of the residence so many drunks
walked through these walls i sometimes
do wonder how my grandmother
streuggled through it
and she says it like a nun swearing
but today i was making custard
with my wife and daughter over the phone...

72:12

PSG 2 - ARsenral 0

lost on agg

****! i missed a gole! **** ****! too busy
thinking about god and nothing
and id est
cf.
est id ego?

            loot the womb come out empty
no brothers
no sisters
thinks his grandmother is a serial killer
or maybe High Priest
like the Mother in Dune
some temporal shift wavey lines
i mean a French Pope
a Pope **** Pope French
i've been biting my nails and
Ądam EwĘ
  
   tym kolem zamnkne i jak niby zapomne
to powiem z kresk'

   tam tak zastomne
zapowiem
pan zastepow
pan kazdy swej mowy
i tym diarkytyka
pan nad polaka: 'yd
no znaczy: 'yd:               Er                     Zet...


77:12
PSG 2 - Arsenal 1

     Ż i tak od litery do litery a' do Sokratesa:
i tak jakim tam tam
innym to Grek
i nie inny Pan s'owem
to te pierw szkice
a nie 'kice///

             tak bzu bzu bzu
i ten 'yd           i Egipt
i gYpt
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2021
a relapse into a minor psychosis:
all subsequent ones will never be akin
to the first...
in all fairness: it's a boost of sensual
experience...
the current need to drink some whiskey:
for added stamina...
and subsequently cycle into the night:
perusing through the east end of London
until i reach something central...
something tourists might recognise
like brick lane...
i've become a tourist of faces...
that my memory is as it is...
once me and three of my fwends were
walking...
a car pulled up...
some ****- jumped out and stole
m'ah fwends phone...
so i told the other to note down
the number plates of the car...
to the police station we went...
of course a charge was made...
came to recognising the **** from
a bunch of mug shots...
i hit the perfect 10...
even though it was dark...
i think the trial hit a dead end because:
the my fwend didn't recognise
the silly ****...
the argument of: his phone was stolen...
blah blah...
i remember standing in court
and being presented with "evidence"
by the defence party...
in the old days... when you...
decided to... allow photographs into existence
of a physical copy...
there would be a date and time
imprinted on them
in red fluorescence...
  just like there was a time when
our pupils would glare up red...
any terminator handy...
he asked me... do you recognise the silly ****
"now"...
i looked at the date and said...
well... kind sir...
in two years time...
i'll be expecting enough ***** on my face...
to later... stroke my beard
like it might be a violin in order to:
pretend to think...
such savvy evidence showing me a picture
of a ******* toddler would be best!
show me a picture of child ****** and
then... let's pretend he... wasn't envious
of the Charlie Chaplin moustache...
'appy?
this one time i stood in defence of law...
probably: in-circumstantial evidence
was given... some thesaurus *******
of how man passes law:
let's see them bend come the law of gravity
or that water boils at 100°C...
or that it freezes at 0°C...
now those are laws!
my critique on passing law...
it's too subjective... on a whim...
justice isn't celebrated when Solomon dealt with
those two women and cutting
the baby in half...
nor when Pontius Pilate washed his hands...
for the purpose of... appeasing the egoism
of the judge... that's all i see...
best state your "riddle" plain and simple...
let's just hope for some
placebo solipsism between us...
as we tow along some time spent together...
no short-changing...
like me and my relationship with
money... well thank **** i don't have to spend...
and what i do spend...
the rivers run amber in scotland...
most of it will translate into zesty...
concentrated lemonade of ****
while my liver digests the poison...
to sacrifice my liver on some boxing-bag
champ detail... as long as my brain relaxes
and produces these words...
bertrand russell's: history of western philosophy
is still my favourite book...
of all time...
it would seem that...
historians of philosophy are...
the most exciting writers...
or perhaps a history of of philosophy is the most
proper genre to have as an... antithesis....
antidote... antonym... of... (friction) fiction...
for the purpose... lessened psychologism...
as one might dwell on...
one degree apart from philosophy as history...
Kierkegaard...
the rest... troublesome reading...
reading that also has to stage thinking...
and long pauses of reflection...
   riding a bicycle is better than riding a horse...
being only a passenger in a car...
i still prefer a double-decker bus...
but i have no desire for... faking the creation
of momentum: if i'm not peddling...
i like to earn what i can...
philosophy as a history is better than...
history as historicity...
       honest to goat, god and goad...
and some bloated toad...
what's that schematic...
a poem exists on this scale as so:
journalism - history - mythology...
  **** on me... where is it?
it probably exists in all the three categories...
that there's as much space as there is time...
infrequently suggested...
if you were to add up all the unique experiences
of this... meagre amount of space: to compare...
there's as much space as there is time...
for me... Darwinism crumbles on any posit
for an etymological concern...
or how words become vogue when...
become... disused... abandoned...
how the Greeks had noun-letters
while the Romans had... sound-letters...

to resurrect a phrase...
   Abraham patriarcha hebrajskie wynalazł litery,
   Kadmus zaś greckie, a pismo łacińskie Carmentis


Abraham the patriarch invented the hebrew letters...
Kadmus thus the Greek, but the written Latin, Carmentis...

"point of concern"...
some st. cyril did a cheap-**** job translating the Glagolitic
text...
although... few pointers for originality:
G... F... J... C...
               L (hardly... given gamma)... Q...
                      S...            D...

to hell with these figments of truths and halves...
the night... the bicycle await...
i'm done scribbling down furthering of riddles!

— The End —