i have my regrets, well, observations really:
1. every talk to a medical student,
over a pint, in the centre of london,
who was dissecting corpses to gain
the guts + bowels, and hear him
ask you: if you could be any god,
which god would you be?
hades was my reply,
which makes internet atheism a bit
redundant -
given that a medical student might
ask such a question...
do these biology abound atheists
really have a serious point,
can they use a scalpel,
apply anaesthetic to pull your
wisdom teeth out?
i hardly think so...
i found atheism so lacking sensibility
that a medical student perfectly
explained it to me: with that question.
2. ****, we're on two already?
i wish i spoke german,
don't know why -
i find that some german speakers
have no grit in their spreschen,
and how my surname is ehlert,
but should be eschlert.
3. unlike most people of immigrant descent:
i've managed to wriggle in
into a hierarchy of sometimes speaking
than the natives,
whilst retaining my 2nd mother:
der zunge; which means i'm not an
annoying latino female poet having
regrets, and cliches in spanish,
or the ambitions of: the abandonment
(due to their parents) of pakistani
or arab youths (mother urdu wasn't around,
neither was mama mecca) -
so? blow yourself up!
oh i know how it must feel,
to be completely drained,
to have an utterly mongrel soul -
but, guess what? i, for one,
was adamant in keeping my native
tongue, must come so hard to speak
a white tongue, in an caste of olive skin -
having to resort to accents,
idiosyncratic variations or urban slang...
poor children, a psyche's poverty
drags many more down to your sorrow,
than a physical poverty bound
to a wheelchair... never in my life:
was a mass shooter ever mentioned,
who was bound to a wheelchair.
4. point 3 post scriptum -
the parents tried too hard,
you should have made contact
with your grandparents -
it's one thing to integrate,
but another: to keep your... integrity:
what are you looking it?
i kept mine - i can't read a book
in polish in england,
i must be wholly absorbed by
the native tongue -
it's not that i can't read a **** word
in native, but i need to be wholly
immersed -
and **** the picts for not remembering
gaelic, **** em, they deserve their
(to some) incomprehensible accent -
look at the welsh!
they're already scratching their heads
saying: maybe we should retain
something of our own,
and not ol' sleuth charlie the third
as: princy!
to be honest, i really do understand
welsh nationalism:
as long as the nationalism is
lingo-centric, that's fine my be...
keep it piquant, yes?
in the meantime i just keep saying:
integrate by all means,
but ask your parents:
is diacritically odd english is all
you can give me?
nothing native? no bilingual oomph?!
and only the french could ever be
so lingo-proud...
the english attempt to bewilder their
hosts: oh, it's the most difficult
language there is to learn -
no it isn't...
the ******* on about?
mighty the brain of a child -
since it imitates sponges -
and yes, alzheimer's begins
by the attack of the killer proteins -
that **** all the fat cells:
that the brain constitutes as;
sure, a decent amount of sleep -
but stay off those protein shakes to boot.
5. oh right, ha ha,
imagine the lottery of acronyms
within the framework of given names:
matti conrad ehlert -
looks familiar? it probably is...
via that jewish physician
and that little equation with c in squared
form...
i still wonder what an equation
with the speed of light: cubic would
look like:
could it be? could it be?! the solution
to travelling at the speed of light?
i'm sure as **** that there must be
an: e = m c(cubed) -
i think that's delving into quantum
mechanics -
it wouldn't seem to be a mode
of travel -
rather a teleportation -
i swear there must be some
evolution of the original with
the speed of light being squared,
to the speed of light being cubed...
some sort of implosion of either
energy or matter, i.e. to the power of -1
to provide the linear projection?
or is that the √? oh yeah,
well, it would be √e = m c(cubed)
or e = √m c(cubed) -
or something or other.
6. so yeah, i don't have any regrets speaking
my gebürtigzunge:
as i might have, if i didn't speak it,
why? because, i simply: speak it -
so? spierdalaj z mego domu ty spedzialona
krocza politiki!
p.s.
7. now i remember what i really wanted to
write, listening tomelissa lozada-olivia's
poem tonsils i could almost feel jealous
as to how women can write
poems about phelatio...
me? i.e. the male alternative:
shoved my face into a greasy lamb sandwich,
a ******* burrito...
and when i came to it
having finished,
my entire mouth and cheeks shone
in the moonlight from all the vulvic
grease...
great: ate an oyster, swallowed a whale;
how romantic;
it still ends up being nothing more
than: having eaten a greasy lamb sandwich.