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Poems..



       Although it is mainly because - our literary community
omit me completely: and: justly - and as a boring: uneducated
amateur: for years: I'm hiding offended poison:    I have to:
now and here: rudely show up: that:   nothing is more boring:
nosy and worn: than original Slovak literary production.    I
even admit openly: that: they are    - in almost the absolute
majority    - some strange sparse shit.
       From a very volatile - only a superficially:     privy
look: which I devoted to this literature: and:     the events
around it: I noticed in a short while:     the untamed force:
which is responsible for this condition.      It is a kind of
natural law  - besides the literature - raging also elsewhere
in art incidentally  - and anywhere in the common life.
      This law: I  named in my own words modestly:    Whom do
you have there - I did so - under the influence of an ancient
story: that happened when: as a happy debutant: I was showing
to family members: a fragrant copy of magazine Dotyky:   with
my modest poem: and: an unnamed: close uncle asked me:   this
simple question:
      Whom do you have there?
      It made me very upset then: what?!:    Whom do you have
there?!?  I really didn't have anyone there then:     the bug
arose by some stupid coincidence: and: just so:   without the
familiar helping hand: which intervenes everywhere:      and:
unfortunately: everywhere pushes everything into shit. 
      It does not have to be dirty hand necessarily      - by
money: goods or communal benefits  - it often interferes only
so beautifully and selflessly: for a good cause:   for a good
person and friend: who needs to be supported:  pushed forward
for merit: publish it to him finally: because:    he has been
trying so long:  it doesn't matter: that:  it is sparse shit:
who knows: then maybe my sparse shit:        will also have a
greater right for public life.      From this - again - quite
uncritically and with bias  - I observed: that:  for a person
affected by an enormous desire to create     - but apart from
that - endowed with nothing else:  completely free of talent:
it is best to become a helping hand.         Believe or not -
I see you:
      And now: we have another law here:   The law of pushing
up your own shit. I don't know where that certainty is coming
from or what it is - but I really believe: that: I personally
witnessed this:  especially on the internet portals dedicated
to literary and visual works: because otherwise:     I really
can't explain:  how such terrible shit: can get among the top
rated works.
       The fucker without talent:     who is coming to such a
portal: thinking probably this way:     oh, this man fucks it
same horrible like myself: I have to support him!:   or: this
man is rated very high by these people here:       but I also
could to put together this any time: wow!: what a great job!
       I don't know:     from where I'm taking the insolence:
and:   I consider myself chosen for speaking about such noble
topics as the art is: but: for example:            right now:
definitely: uncritically and: of course: totally misguided  -
I distinguish   - in what is commonly referred to as poetry -
three opposing camps:      a.) a silent: enormously sensitive
perceivers of radiant beautiful nature:    the man inside and
his own very human soul,       b.) the adorable explorers and
worshipers of their lesser genitals: coarse language   (cunt:
cuntie: dicky cunt), cola and other hard drugs,      c.) over
whole thing: high standing:  differentiators of the ahahhahah
jokes for scientifically looking: bookish snobs:




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