it stems from an allergy, which is almost
paradoxical, given that i defend
retaining the native tongue,
but at the same time struggling with:
esp. upon hearing it like some sort:
allergy, like a fiddle with gulping down
an oyster... the squiggly slime -
  the ooze of a snail's sloth being
regurgitated.
i find too much comfort in english -
and so much discomfort in polish -
             this has to be one of the greatest
parody moments of the proselyte -
             i hate the poles - in that i love
hating them...
             the english i have only pity for...
standards of buggery were never
best received anywhere other than in
england...
                        i find the poles beyond
english humour in their ridicule...
                the way they treated
the young ex-"communists" while spreading
double-the-butter on my grandfather's
  bread slices...
              while ensuring my father
would be homeless if he stayed in the:
"motherland"...
  **** me, i'm just grizzly when it comes
to the concept of scalping catholics!
            i'd deem him a saint,
if he had the decency to become pope emeritus:
slobbering baboon, bouffant in excelsior,
        this man made pope,
ever arouse a "national" dread ever greater
to impede upon a collective "pride":
i'd take pride in "our man" claim the status
of pope emeritus...
                    clinging to the throne like
to a hard-on...
        scorn me to the heavens' high...
count to the ninth and i will likewise scorn him
back: downward!
        and make him settle for a handshake and
raw milk, drank from a freshly milked cow.
i don't know who i hate more,
             but i hate them all,
     and i do what i do best:
                  twist my forward for stating
a or any allegiance.
                   but at lest that's something,
among the anglos, protestants i feel nothing
but uninvited imaginations -
of how else to discuss the unearthing of
the nag hammadi library...
                                      and this is me:
living next to about 100 people,
and i know about 2...
                  must be mars...
              god forbid this "individualism"
live elsewhere, this anti-tribalism,
this anti-nationalism,
     the only person i'm supposed to talk to
is, myself, in the four walls...
             because all the other people
are supra-man,
                 never to kiss a wheelchair,
never to take to walking sideways,
always the young, the perfect, the pristine...
never able to fathom death,
  or other: injury.
               i hate the poles, as i have learned
to hate them with my mother's words:
what has poland ever given you?
  fair enough:
but what has england ever given me
that i would ever want?
                       not much either,
let's keep this argument in equilibrium of
cordiality,
                    given that i slap this tongue
better than some englishmen...
                satan is a sadist?
  the new testament really makes the jews
seem like a rotten crowd,
  given that no man freely asks to be crucified,
that there's no rationality behind
the fate...
                  so who's the *******?
not jesus christ?!
               jesus the *******,
jesus the *******...
           radio maryja and
               ta ta tadeusz rydzyk,
                                       ta ta tadeusz rydzyk!
any mad dog would be *******
  a non-entry point by now...
  like a dog that's truly *** mad *******
a leg: find me on golgotha,
                         dry ******* that crucifix.