.                             mono     automaton
                          q  u  a  s  i  o  m  n  i;
in­to root of the crux
                                                i will
                       invoke,
a black cardinal,
  that challenges
  all self-righteous popes,
and all self-imposing
popes;
   are my words not bread?
are my words not wine?
then who claims authority
over the justification
   of the authenticity of
            recruiting people
toward the position of "power"?
   who's if not the dead borthers
feed your near cannibalistic mouths?
        who feeds the living,
when who feeds the living,
are dead?!
          necrophilia; rampant!!!
cry...                 asylum! asylum!
who's over-reacting?
   some irish will tell ye'...
    i hate the irish...
   i have a fetish for hating them;
esp. those
settled in england;
  those ******* i hate the most;
why?
    i was wearing a german army
shirt in an irish pub, and
what did the bartender say?
i can't serve you.
   you engaged in the second
world war, paddy?!
******* potato harvester
     ginger-dangle-bell of
a hope... that never comes...
just the drowning ginger ***
who's abode was and will
           be the belfast dim-wit
known as
                              the titanic;
**** me, i'm not even born &
bred english and i already find
the irish worthy of considering
genocidal tendencies...
scots? **** me, shoot me
to a pub for a whisk,
and some 'aggis neeps 'n' tatties...
the welsh?
      what, the ultra-german spelling
machine that's not even
comparable to germans?
   i'll just talk to charlie prince, y'all...
rrrr... (i just had to make it obvious)...
the ear-ish?
       i ******* hate the *****...
and i'm not even english to begin with...
some people you immediately get
to love...
   aussies, the finns...
                 and some people you
immediately get to hate...
                       the irish, the germans;
it's a shame though,
   i learned this pathos
   from acquiring the english language...
i.e. "assimilating" into
  the culture, p.s. the i.r.a. attacks,
so yeah, peedee pi dee p'oh,
   and a paedo to ring
             the bell for friday's mass...
   f
                            uck
             me,
            coming off the rocking chair,
next you'll find me so much so
assimilated that i'll be calling
it the irish and the northern monkeys...
vs. the loondish
               and the southern fairies /
                                                   pansies;
i suppose if you're ever
going to assimilate, hold to the local
customs (when in rome,
         do as the romans do),
**** me, it's great,
at least i can finally realise that
   there's no greater "racism" than in
the intra- realm, as oppossed to
the inter- realm...
    once again... it's not racism,
   it's "racism"... or a way to get along;
s.j.w.b.g.l.t.q.t.+ sycophant?
    drunk like a skunk... you walked
into my bedroom, you'd get an aura
of a brewery...
                  i can't believe i had
to learn english, and have to succumb
to outer-london prooper english
stereotypes, that i was trying to avoid;
but at least the irish made it plainly
obvious for me to establish,
   giving my transcendental approach
to diacritical marks, which made me sound
posh english, and them,
  my synthetically inherited enemy;
which is nice, breaking away from
hating the russians and the germans;
if i go to a pub?
   i only drink guinness...
  why? it doesn't taste the same in a can
or in an export bottle...
    you need to drink guinness in a pint glass.