and at every turning -
it's an "ethno-centric"
conundrum -
either random outbursts
of the modern tongue,
that can't be said:
is repressed -
indeed kept intact -
and yes, sometimes merely
hidden, until
it self-demands a presence -
and those: are the sweetest
moments i can ever and never
will forget to fathom:
that seemingly long lost essence
of what i am grounded in -
and fervently explore
in the tongue of acquisition,
that i can confuse
an english psychiatrist
whether to think me
a schizophrenic, or merely bilingual;
so lets not kneel before
the altar of stigmata & taboo,
but therein is the common fear,
and how it feeds and
encourages a respect through
that same commodity,
of being common.
thus having relinquished one's
state of infantile pressures of language -
you can move toward the beyond...
indeed, i have nostalgia
not so much for a country,
but for a childhood -
upon several return visists
i find the land and town of origin
unrecognißable!
why? the child i was and remember
isn't there!
the metallurgy factory that
employed 15,000+ men shut down,
and thus the bright itching dodo:
a town of pensioners,
old communist and deßerters...
i pledge no allegiance to either flag
or land or a former ****...
but language?
well, i can allow its
spontaneous emergence
as it sways me in this appropriated
tongue...
but let's be frank,
certain prejudices can be translated,
all to well, in england,
as too in scootland -
i didn't spend 3 years
among the picts for no ****** reason,
ah you see,
if the americans have a derogatory
term for this western slavic
group i am and i'm not part of -
thank you very much for
the supposed "derogatory" term
****** - you said beautifully in my
mothers room, thank you once again
for not confusing with poles and
mahogany polish - thank youn paul;
but you want to know a secret?
what do you think the polacks
call germans?
no clue?
schwaby / szwaby / swabians -
shvaby...
polak, polski, po polsku, po ludzku
(a pole, pauleesh, in pauleesh, in **** lingua).