unlike these other migrants -
i remember Ilford,
during the Balkan war,
and the Kosovo refugees -
who didn't bother to remain...

refugees having this superiority
complex over
economic migrants...
somehow victim-hood is
a better economic model
than skilled labor...

i didn't assimilate into
the English culture,
i wasn't spoon-fed this
multicultural *******
where some ******* Somali
could speak down to me
because he was
bown und bwed in
Cuntish Toown...

         ****** can brown-beat
me down with his
exotica...
up to a point...

    i haven't been brain-washed
by some ideology of
assimilation / integration...
i never assimilated
or integrated into the English
"culture"...

i'll let you know...

sprache über kultur -

meine treue ist zu es ist sprache,
nicht es ist volk,
      sogar wenn ich haben
zu sprechen deutsche!

i was never assimilated or integrated
into the English "kultur"...
i acquired it, and by acquiring it,
i acquired it to deviated from
what was being prescribed...
by a ghost consensus...

        i never signed up to some
******* Somali brown-beating me
as some minor, the always inferior,
"eastern", "European"...
    not a chance in hell...

            hölle erste,
   besagt streit? zweite!

...and why do you think i'm
seeking escape in tickling German?
i'm not exactly bugging the Ottomans -
after all... one of the Axis powers...
   and i love my Turkish barber...

i can't imagine any other ethnicity
to have perfected the trade of
the barber...
      who... whittle east African
subsaharan Muslim with no knowledge
of the Saudi slave trade of Bangladeshi
workers?!
mouthing off his over-priced
privilege position in England?!

  bingo!
          no no no...
i'm not assimilated,
wenn es kommt bezüglich die krone?
    mein antwort "bezüglich"
eine krone?
                die ich von gott:
                 ist der ein und erst krone!

i didn't integrate or assimilate
into this "kultur"...
i made a claim for this sprechen...

  da ist nicht kultur
                             außen die zunge!

which is why i have to tease German,
the old father...
of the English tongue...
because?
   because i find the English language
plagued...
and i'm puritanical at herz.

Si la muerte no es la solo gracia, estamos solos.

Siempre de, nosotros es uno si de todos solamente muertes

            todo en gracia de estamos solamente,

            solo de nosotros, todos nosotros,

            solo que si muertamos es la solo gracia nos encontramos con.

Si la muerte es la única gracia, estamos unidos.

Esta en contra del sentido visión duele como mirando hacia el sol.

Ceguera, es siempre difícil de entender-

para los cuerdos que no puede ver con ojos normales

Sabiduría es en sus sin ayuda de cielo corazon

y sus monstruo cabeza el reconocer la realidad de duele,

con ojos por dentro y afuera de, la mente

Mirando hacia del sol puede ciegos que de lo falso, así.



Unser ist mit treue halten liebe die genug zwei Toden heilig

wobei einander der zwei toden beide schaden aus Liebe  

Doch dass zweite Tod ist meine schade

Dies zweite Tod ist die eine freude

Wenn erst eine Tod ist die dass ist Sein lieblos, nein  liebe

Das die tod ist bis die einen toden der alles

nicht Zu vergleichen

nun ist Tod bis euchen eine freude?

Do you want to see
my collection of knives?
Jim asked
sure

I said
so he went
into his
ground floor flat

and I sat
on the grass
outside
his bedroom window

cleaning my
6 shooter gun
with my handkerchief
here

Jim said
have look
at this beauty
and he handed me

a narrow bladed knife
with an eagle
on the handle
and German script

on the blade
Meine Ehre Heisst Treue
what does that mean?
I asked

Dad said it means
my honour is loyalty
Jim said
I ran a finger

along the blade
it was still sharp
it's an SS knife
he said

I handed him
back the knife
and off he went
to get another

this one
had a curved blade
be careful
of the blade

Jim said
it's very sharp
I bet that's taken off
many a head

he said
sliding his thumb
under his throat
what kind

of knife is it?
I asked
it's a Gurkha
combat knife

he said
he took
that knife away
and brought back

a knife with
a knuckleduster handle
what the hell is this?
I said

taking the knife
into my hands
and turning it over
it's an Aussie

fighting knife
Jim said
could have
slit open a ***

he said
I tried not
to think of that
but looked

at the knuckleduster handle
and imagined
a man's hand
and fingers there

at one time
I handed Jim
back the knife
and he went

back inside
there were voices
coming
from Jim's room

and Jim's old man
came to the window
and said
don't tell no one

what you've seen Benny
Jim should
have known better
and backed off

into the room
I looked
at my 6 shooter
in my lap

Jim came
along the grass
back from the flat
sorry about that

he said
Dad has this thing
about knives
and such

he helped
open up
Belsen camp
and saw too much.

who said that ego-tripping was bad?
ego-tripping, a proper definition?
a circumstance of being overly
excited at the ability to not think,
as such a state of excitement
without any thought being pervasively
obstructive, e.g. the story of my life:
http://tinyurl.com/zkleaae,
and the opening words -
             not admitted to a lunatic asylum:
the lunatics claim the moon
is their source of inspiration -
the lesser aesthetic of the sun-basked
marble statue sculptors of
      the classic societies -
nie przyjęty do szpitala -
well, sure, cheap industrial music,
but i always wanted to invoke
the opening sentences on Hanzel und
Gretyl's mein kommandant -
   picking out words from the whittle german entree:
                glaube (faith, inert, without belief)
                                          herzen (
                            concerning hearts,
                                             in action:
               do you have the ability to stir-up hearts?)
           du (you)                  biste
            liebe (love)
                                        treue (loyalty)
          that recurrent du as in: do you?
        but only when coupled with biste,
    hence the: du biste...
                                        every language has
the same formidable defence structures,
   it didn't really take the Chinese to build
the great wall of China to defend themselves...
their ideograms were enough...
                   English thought it was well
defended... but someone spotted its diacritical
nakedness, and someone came by and
inserted a few examples where deviation could
be encouraged...
                             sure, the media damns them
esp. in Western Europe, coming from the East...
or even from Africa... me? i call them
the Kamikaze...                 to me they are the
epitome of the Kamikaze...
                 seeing these grammatical defences
that each language possesses to obstruct integration
in a foreign land... well... my father has a house
and a profession... i have completely authority
of the language that didn't make me into
a prodigal son roofing skyscrapers...
                         i could have allowed this
host language to deal me the poker hand of being
a school janitor (mind you)...
                                          but it didn't...
   this language has no authority over me other than
the type i give it, and i do have intellectual
limitations - as is due for everyone to have -
                but i'm not bound to how people dictate
language in positions of authority...
                    i dictate language from the only position
available: i am the language, and i am not
language attached to some specific role in society
that might enable me to shout down the pyramidal
hierarchy of some embittered authority...
                      yes, sometimes the posit coordinate
of reciprocating existence comes first...
           and thought, like sound from a passing aeroplane
comes much later...
                         but this isn't a debate
about being catholic protestant buddhist or atheist,
        i'm not here for the identifier coordinates to
say i'm so and so... the point is:
                 i know what thought will come along
having staged such a overpowering pompousness
   of a claim... that over version of being self-conscious:
write something ridiculous, and retract from
it, returning to your everyday routine...
                         because that's the only way you're
going too survive in a world of plumbers and electricians:
              and that's not an insult...
                                     it's a way to get by
   what all writers missed:
                      that quasi-Narcissus moment of
seeing a reflection in a blank piece of paper,
           as whatever Narcissus saw in his reflection in
the lake... not self-love for the writers... self-loathing.