ugh...
english English
and american English -

that famous war
of phonetics:

toe-may-t'oh
    tomato -
t'oh-m'ah-toe...

as far as i'm concerned
the dictionary lies...
****'s up with
potatoes and tomatoes?

i play tennis with
ha-shem...

   /təˈmɑːtoʊ/

ʊ: is not a macron O
    ō, but it is:
         H            |            H
kicking down the middle...
oh...
    oh really...
        really?

don't get fooled by the
upper-tier alphabet
rewrite of a word
with disparaging encoding
lettering...

   and when i feel lazy:
i listen to the blues...

and it's not really about potatoes
and tomatoes...
  it's also about
leisure and labor...
    how did that doctor
of classics claim the word /
utter it?

  leisure = lee-ßure -
not lay-ßure...

          but lee-ßure...
like lesion...
      
   and if you knew anything
about graphemes:
ß = S & Z
  interchangeably -
    which is also equivalent
to the slavic SZ...
or SH in the germanic tongues...

poe-tay-t'oh...
       not poo-tay-t'oh...
not toe-may-t'oh...
  t'oh-m'ah-toe...

and isn't this the obvious
presence of the Hebrew
puzzle of ha-shem?

                tow-may-tow...
toe-may-toe...
tow-may-toe -
   toe-may-tow...

          m'ah... breath / consonant
catcher...
              in this instance...


is it really lesion / lee-ßure
and not lay-assurance,
i.e. lay-sure?
           leisure, really?
lesion,
lee-ßure...
                
                   i almost forgot
to figure this word out...
  that being said...
i can't believe that i focused
my ontological basis
on the ground of etymology,
rather than the Darwinism
plot-line...

           the prevalent word(s),
and...
           this is really a poem about
when i was laughed at
during a coach trip
to the swimming pool from
St. Augustine's school
for swimming lessons....

apparently the sports brand...
in England...
is pronounced
Pjúm'ah...
      and not Púm'ah...
  Puma...
                
    from there on in...
   pew m'ah... haunted it...
   when someone attempts to correct
your pronunciation?
your grammar?
      
   hmm...
                     you buckle down,
and dig a trench;
and ensure your tongue
and fingers turn into a machine
gun that ingests the dropping
bodies as fertilizers
for the come: poppies and
beetroots.