so... it's no longer enough that
i learn your language,
into a p.s. of conversational
etiquette -
addressing the confrontational
assertion of the existence
of orthography,
minding your, Germanic,
metaphysical *******...
and then...
   i'm, supposed, to,
listen to your average citizen,
dictating rules,
like some sort of king?!
i'll drink a beer, walking
past the east ham central mosque...
and i'll be like:
getting the **** eyes ******
you stare -
in reply: you know what?
do it... **** it... do it...
make me a ******* martyr...
     but i'm going to drink this beer,
feeding a solidarity of the 7/7 commuters...
hence my teasing...
       once i'll burn scissors and
craft a tattoo on my arm...
once i'll put out a cigarette
on my left hand's knuckle...
   the everyday englishman who "thinks"
he's king...
      i'm thinking... plum hues
to replace mascara... with a *******
fist...
             no... private property,
is private property...
   now i'm gagging for a fist
frisking! i'm less trigger happy,
and more, european,
i.e. knuckles itchy!
    i want to juggernaut something
down...
  and then start biting into it!
any obnoxious englighman,
being a **** will satiated my
palette.
         GNASH GNASH GNASH...
i want... a chance...
to scoop clean...
   the "riddle" of meaty chicken
schnacks of drum-sticks...
  fiddle fiddle, fiddle me something...
i want to engage in a 1, 2,
punch & bite something...
attempting to relieve itself
from physical confrontation,
having exhausted its verbal allowance.