...well, technically... i did bypass the catholic bureaucracy of confirmation... aged 14... i started reading gnostic texts... but there's an apparent G in the word diagnosis... isn't there? so... the kilt-donning gnome joke, yes? ***** mcsilly, yes? i found it stupendous when asked on scandinavian television: were you confirmed? the interviewer asked richard dawkins. yes. - and here's me... i wasn't... so aged 13 in Judaism would make a man, but i have to wait to 14 to be a mere choir boy in Christianity? it's no stale agitation to: discover a mirror in a worded text worth a book's page... a shuddering explosion of: available circumstances of the averse form... hardly knowledge though: a patience for death, in that the patience is of the immediacy & certainty of the only, just, will... death is not a material extension... death is the only: just will.

i moved to england when
i was 8...

  my knowledge of the english
language?

nil...

and?

   do i ******* look
like a rupi kaur?

                  no...
thank you...
             do i remember learning
the english language
before i learned to swim
or ride a bicycle?

i learned english before
i learned to swim
before i learned to ride
a ******* bicycle...

get me?!

   but i am a man:
not a pampering mum...
ergo?
who the **** cares?

can you imagine
engaging in the artery
of traffic in
the old Gants Hill
roundabout,
on a bike,
with not safety nets?

that was fun,
i was expecting nothing
associated with
a bravo! or climbing
the ******* matterhorn:

oh but i did learn
english before
i learned to ride a bicycle
and before i learned
to swim...

how did i learn to swim?
on my own...
shallow pool...
my father tried teaching
in in the sea...
failed like a miserable
****: alias catty mum...
in a chlorine pool?

treaded water,
on the deep end,
in pajamas...

so the sofa speakers,
the, natives
of the thus spoken in
tongue:
       might i clarify
what my position is
on the topic of
the under-belly / religion?

i am still bound to this
religion by
only liking
monkish choirs...
akin to to the chant of
the templars:
da pacem domine...

and the salve regina...

i've learned to speak
this tongue akin
to the other children
who first learn to swim,
or ride a bicycle...

any kudos in it for me,
some brownie points?
nope...
  a hard shoulder...
i was scolded and given
a moral lesson,
when i distributed
pictures of pamela anderson
in the playground,
having picked them up,
freely, from a newsagent...

herr fitzgerald...
i remember that headmaster
from st. augustine's
primary school (barkingside)
telling me:
'imagine if that was
your mother'...

thank you:
thank **** i will not have
a daughter!

this tongue, this... "riddle"...
this parasite of which
i am the host...

lessons in what could
traumatize a child
pre-puberty...
           while so much
of my memory is
tinged with the ontological
bogus nature of:
erasure...

natural selection is...
a stale topic for what
is... selective memorization...

monks... singing...
that's the last bastion
for the worth of Christianity...
everything else?
pigeons attempting tango...

oh i remember the boy
who ratted me out...
john...
  i even remember
his haircut...
fringe,
cut as if he had a hosptial
portable toilet
glued to his head...
father? ****... that was luke...
lived in a council house,
hainault:
father was a cab driver...

sad, almost...
who taught me this tongue?
me!
who taught me to swim?
me!
who taught me to ride
a bicycle...
o.k.: that one i'll never be
clear about...

upon introduction,
i almost forgot the interests
of this 14 year old's
reading tribunal...
this memory of the 14 year old,
enthralled
   by the gnostic heretics,
and key concepts,
attending a catholic
school...
not accepting confirmation...
aged 14?
probably
a memory
of finding ***** magazines
in the newly built
catacombs
of the church,
having played
         hide & seek in the tunnels...
aged: circa 10...

****** economics:
and what became least
effective,
as that compensation
for a perpetuated
hard-on...
                      insomniac
ergonomics...
        
     i die,
and what remains intact?
the nouns:
chair, table,
   obłok (cloud),
stone & mountain...
    whatever the self is...
the nouns are left
intact...
  whatever the vanity
project regarding
the pronoun attack is about...
they are a priori
and a posteriori
         intact,
with only a "me"
    as leftovers...

came to use the hammer
on a century's worth
of nails, savvy?
i came to use the words:
a red pepper...
and i left using
the words: a red pepper,

all of this was
"borrowed" / inherited,
and none of it
was my own & or
a worth of my own
sacrifice to settle
origin...

    while the man who
discovered the process
of fermentation,
the beer,
the *****...
will forever remain
anonymous...
yet his fame,
for every Friday...
for every other day,
for every break from
will and balancing on
whims...
      the currently famous
are not famous...
why? the man who
discovered alcohol
        isn't famous!