Rejection
I am language and I reject your word.
You can keep it. It sucks. Sounds godawful,
like screech of bottlecap against concrete,
heel-dragged by rubber shoe of nasty kid.
Your word can knock elsewhere in this city,
any other door but mine. Sure, there’s room
at this or that drive-in motel, but tell the virgin
motherfucker to go find a stable, and see if kings
come to crown it, bow and offer gifts before it,
along with the cows, the sheep and the mules.
Can’t talk me into it. Stop trying.
You can smile and open your legs
all you want, pump-prime me to consider
your neologism, but I shan’t have it.
I am language, I have my rules
and policies, not all of them strict
nor thick like a city dick. But I tell you,
I won’t go to bed with your terrible offer
nor spend a holiday in the country with it.
Wait a minute. Why, if I don’t accept it,
it’s not a word. It remains gobbledygook,
not even slang or patois, but baby talk.
So let it grow and mature, learn to coo
while acquiring savoir faire and derring-do.
Like ecstasy, or rapture, or rhapsody.
Now those are good words, they glide in
like angels proclaiming a soulful birth.
Not like your equivalent of a dingbat
seeking space in cosmopolitan places.
Let it mind its manners first, until
it assumes delicate, gurgling shape,
like love, or milk, or breast.
Give it a rest, your weird sing-song
guttural exhalation. Take it back
where you found it. I am language
and won’t have it. I am umbrage
and won’t settle for less than finesse.
It’s a barbarian at my gate, and there
it’ll be held in check, until it begins
to sound fit enough for polite company.
This is my city and I am language
of the streets that has been accepted
in the streets and elegant parlors both.
Your expression stays in ether of sewer.
Clam up, button your lip, let not that curse
of inanity start a rot in my metropolis
that stands on the cadavers of obscenities.
Fuck off. And take your fucked-up wish
of a sigh back to the hills of politesse,
diplomatese, PC police. Away! Alis! Alis!
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