May be I’ll start writing, today.  
The story of Zen Zero.

I realized that all good things come to an end.  The tears, the affairs, and even the faintest revelation about my relationship to the Emperor of Japan.  I’ll need help and... well, the truth can be tolled.  It can be that the faintest belief, that we as free people are subject to the king, our God.
A king stands in truth as our kin.  The love that has existed for a thousand years, about justice, permanence, and legend are here.
It all started 7 years ago.  According to the book of John, the 3rd book.  The face of his majesty does have an Imperial Guardian.  In any colour, red, black, blue, white, and even green.  Each color resembles the color of trust.  
I started training in the Emperor's garden at the age of negative 6.  Before my mother can conceive her unborn child in a marriage.  Like the burning of Shin Cho' Palace.  
"Oh, how they forget so quickly, the truth?" says my mother.
They forget so quickly the majesty and power of the Emperor's memory of Mother Japan.  In his Majesty's eyes, how many lovers stir the colors of benevolence.  Where and when does it exist and stop for us as an American patriot sold to slavery for spy’s.  All of his subjects do will and listen to the cry of patience in his family’s quarters.  
My father at the time of his marriage did not know the Emperor's name, I had asked my mother in her heart if she knew the king.  They are no longer married.  They had tried to burn down the Emperor's Palace with a marriage.  But I had already existed, in the love of my family at a wedding joining men and women.  I remember some singing, all though in my mother’s ears, really bad singing. In her head or mine at the wedding, whichever is greater.  Maybe the song was worthless or was the singer already lifting her fingers to strike matches on the bamboo fortress of the young emperor.  
They have had many statesmen destroy the dream that Japan has.  Through lies, corruption, and *******.  Each of the last three I had to conquer to be his Majesty's Justice.  I did not earn the right to judge any such subject or people, it was given freely at that time to children.  I had learned to love the Emperor, even in my own desire to please him and her.  
The lies were towering revelations about the coming of man in God's kingdom, and how the will of imperial veils never existed for the properties of mankind.  The corruption was the setting of dowers or dowries for the subject of lost families, in the forbearance of lucher escaped only by the luck of liars.  And then the dreams of revelry, owned by the ungodly and chaste men of the burning palace, whether sediscious, or whether the fables absolving time in the palace to a judgment had already met the Emperor.  
All of the priests (pre-ests) had to pray; for the remaining time of eternity, for the true judgment of his Majesty's subjects. It was to be taken from the subject of srys to the Emperor's Knight.  
To many were lost in the munitions of war.  Laws that govern and sanction truths were not available to those of absolute corruption.  Stalwarts, stonewallers, and stoners were becoming of the anti-gentry.  The laws were never to be discouraged by zeal, or by trial.  The laws had to represent the ability of love to change time even if the object of factions destroyed the old way.  They had taken the truth to prepare Neoteny for where the first Imperial Guard had placed his head.  The first Imperial Guard, that I became before birth had taken his own head with a weapon made by treason.  
My mother’s dress was made out of spider silk.  A giant spider played Chinese checkers with the Imperial Guard for my head also.  Never the less, the palace, this time was not burned.  The dress was made out of falling stars and spiders silk.  She had found the Emperor's tailor and traded my soul for the wedding.  The pictures that were retrieved from the wedding of my mother and father have ruminated in antiquity since the time until by birth my life.  The seers and srys wanted my head to take up the Emperor's chalice.  His cup, filled with my blood, Simian blood.  
I did not want to go through with it, birth and death before becoming subject to royalty.  Seeing the world before consummation, as I had was never thought of, it was seen as impossible unless by treason we had chided a woman of royalty.  
I have seen the last major asteroid go through our galaxy before it had ever had been a present particle of mutiny.   It proved to the child (myself) in gestation, between man woman at the wedding that time will pass just as quickly before my mind’s eye as it had at the day of Pentecost.   More than 500 billon people were to be saved by God rather than by a humble dismantling of a defense lawyer.
I had seen how flowers are made by tiny Zen Zero bumble bees going to and leaving from daisies and roses, and orchids.  How each seed takes roots and as do the munitions for treason and tears; how each man whom chooses to change their name because of treason begins to understand change when his wife chooses his name.  (The reference is to Zero attacks, suicide attacks.)  How the time and life and essence of life begins in literacy as a language of love.  Every old man on earth can help me write the scripts, but can the country of old men help me change the prophet?
As long as there is war in the palace there will be treason?
The spirit of the samurai was trying the youth in the palace.  From the first born male to the last lady in quixic geisha.  All uniques were to be placed before the Lord for appointment.  Any dreams of or visions of truth were a breach of solemnity lost by the virginity of the family.  The parents of each state were subjects to the Emperor's people, and to the chosen for freedom and slavery.  How many shining knights were to remain in the Emperor's house?  The uniqueness was subject only to the reason of the generation of the age.  Not many of my men had anything left after the life of the quill or pen of the Knight Meteyi had begun to take its place with the heads of loyalists.  His sword remains in the hand of the Majesty of Japan.  No knowledge, no lore, no president, no kin, or liars can stop his reign.  As if the last days of our youth were spent dismantling the bombs we had made during the last few battles over crude extravagance.  Oil, crops, metals, space, as space became a way to admire men in statehood was the example of treason to the following.  Democrats and Republicans began to try as is a trail of laws to and from changes for the people without a loyal subject to observe in service to a Nation.  Freed men became a bureau of Federally Bureaucratic Investigative subjections.  Whether the phone would sense its use and had no service.  Men tried by srys had needed no way to communicate, they were objects, objections, and objective to democracies.  Any and all of the western knowledge of good or evil was not earned in monasteries, it was as it were seen in-between a marriage of a man and a woman and the consummation of the first born to be the king in his own mind. Centrally, intelligence and agency became a lost paradox.  The palace could be burned through neoteny, the truly lost man or woman had to be part of the worm.  The earthworm had to dig up the lost and the prophet from its own humanly death.  

Chapter 2
The dress as simple as it was, was taken off and laid in a box for saving.  It was to travel through time in the Emperor's Palace to serve has a mold, a pattern for quilting lovers of the family tree through the history of love.  After the child was conceived in love, the dress is worn and then placed back into the box for time travel. From a generation of mothers to another generation of lovers. No man was to wear the dress as an idea, thought or wisdom.  The reproach, the dress, and the marriage is virtue encoded into a structure of life   The wisest man let the Emperor dream life into the belly of prophets through the dress.  The smartest scientist understood the impeccable reason of lust and gave all to his bride for the grave that the earthworm had trusted.  The publican had the dress made as a dowry to the tribe of Roman man.  And the Emperor breathed life into the woman with a few breaths at the wedding.  The subjects, the publicans had tried the Emperor for their bride, by making the flowers lean toward their lovers.  They had tried to tell the knight of the Emperor's Palace that the sun had also retired due to mutiny in the ranks and castes of statesmen.  The son will bend light into the palace of wisdom, and the subjects do grieve the stories from prophets.  
At exactly 10:03 central eastern standard time, the states men forgave themselves of suicide and left to burn the palace.  
Each dressed as royalists.  The burning of Chinju Palace is the last thing I remember before giving up to the sound of a 3 or 4 year old woman singing.  The next thing I remember is being dropped on the floor in the delivery room to a rattle and brattle of childish whims.  Like, the sound of laughter, but only as a fury of deceit, the singer was hurt when I had asked her to join the wedding ceremony.  She excused herself of the ceremony as was or were not subjects to the birth of the kings men in harmony.  

She tried, and wanted to steal the dress.  

Chapter 3
There was mostly nothing in the womb. Except Dogma.  My father, as dogma.  He would whisper to her in bed and they would giggle about never understanding anything ever again.  I excepted NAME for my name.  They didn’t know if a boy or a girl were to be born.  I could know the difference at the time of their conversation.  I then realized that the 3 years prior to conception were perfect.  And I, the Emperor's Knight, was tolled.  Tolled the way bells sound and the way people love to hear the news.  The way light has no existence in the womb, I was tolled the way Sandalphon treaded upon the tribe of Israel.  
Lying was not invented yet, well,... while in the womb, but I had heard some whispers in the darkness.  The camera couldn't fit in, I called and tolled the camera from the womb, in between to friends.  I called the camera, Dragon.  The dragon is the trust moving in-between true and time.  The Dragon, Meteyi had told me that we were going to write everything.  From the believe that martial arts were stronger than prayer, and to the reason that it was not true.  Factually, there was nothing but prayer and no martial artist had a sword bigger than the lie of the Emperor's dragon.  The dragon said, to my father,..."The world is to die for, and not enough."  The dragon also said to my mother,..."The purpose is in your belly as a rainbow in disgust."  He, the dragon almost couldn’t believe that I had mentioned to hymn that there was no way out of this without a dream so relax and let me fit in.  The doctor had to have heard of the loyalist dream of a birth right.  Basically, I didn’t want him to slap me for the first breath.  I hurt bad, like out of a sarcastic Scotlandish parody.  Many, many, many, men quit trying to go through the sry after that.  My mother creeped up to me after my kin had asked the doctor to pick me up off of the floor.  She smiled and handed the birth certificate to the nurse and read my social security number to my father on the phone, he was on duty at the Air Force Base.  My ears were still clogged with seminal fluid, but I could feel her dream a name into my soul.  She can know the Emperor's knight.  After a few moments, my cry as chide by the Emperor, into being a whisper of life.  From that moment on in my life, I could not cry ever, as a child cries.  Otherwise I could be a whisper.

Chapter 4
Every chance at change that had gotten to us was used by running from the dragon.  He liked Batman and hated Robin but new to fathers, knew that hatred kept something’s safe from the palace. The palace could never get filled by whispers.  The whispers only object to democracy and help the camera.  The daguerreotype was possibly the only thing that couldn’t lie.  It was considered lye to gossip worshipers.  Gossip may have started the war on bugs.  Like bugs in ceaseless noise are prayer or whispers, like gossip.  When bugs stop whispering, some seemingly are bad with superstition and others are horrible with bugs.  
The next few years, were also perfect.  I had no idea who else, I could be.  Absolutely perfect, the Emperor subjected us to love.  I could **** all day, eat as much as I wanted and was warned when they thought, like a whisper.  When it was time to eat, when it was time to bath and when it was time to be quiet and sleep were similar to whispers.  Diapers were not invented yet, I had to invent them.  My mother used to get sick from the pain of laundry and sleeping with me.  When the diapers were *****, she wash them and place them back on my ****.  Like a good, palace guardian, I used them up.  The new diapers had an air of mutiny to them, the disposable ones.  We never kept trash in the house.  The signs that we have had a king for dinner were never to be seen, but everyone had the right to change pants.  
Many of the ideas in life shared before birth were not existent after birth.  It was not until my family had meet the Emperor that... we needed to love God by learning to pray.  

Chapter 5
When we met the Emperor, it was easy to say that no whispers were used.  Other things were.  A memory, not a book was here.  There was no time, the palace he made for me was from God and a lot of people wanted in.  The Royal subject was the Emperor's first knight, my father's.  I had to memorize time, which in turn was not mine.  The actual Emperor thought, that I, am a poet of sorts.  We spelled the word memory in the sky together without words, whispers, or gossip.  The next few years were spent dyeing as tap or a drill bit would being to make a hole for fastening life to the surface of my families.  Called a tap and die, the whole of life must be treaded through time without a spry attempt to vacancy.  After the Emperor, my mother and father did not know that meeting the pope was bad.   The Emperor is good.  

Chapter 6
Mainly my ability to learn, had started to fail.  There was not need to have ability.  But walking was hard.  When I stood, I was pushed through, walking.  Like a battle of balance and superstition.  Crawling had no sense, being picked up made things silly.  When wanting to be here, and not knowing how to get there through crawling, here I was a a chubby fat knight.  Father used lemons on my taste buds and cracked when he knew not how I loved them.  He had to make work to pay bills and I learned that without a whisper.  So we would sh

Give them no plea,
Stay steadfast in your way.
Do it, do it, do it for me.

When they set flame to all you see
The fire will surge and rage, but
Give them no plea.

They will wait for you to change your decree
But sit silent, lips pierced too quiet —
Do it, do it, do it for me.

When they hold your judgement over high sea
During the toughest storm,
Give them no plea.

Do not accept what they say is to be
As what it is to be, or how it has been.
Do it, do it, do it for me.

When they strive against your way
And your will strives at your mercy,
Give them no plea.  
Do it, do it, do it for me.

Have you ever been to Nairobi?
What did you see there?
Buildings, people and vehicles?
Uhmmm! Let me share with you my case
Hence I was there yesterday,
And I saw wonders of life;
Jubilant politicians clashing for tyranny,
At the Nairobi parliament,
Making anti-human laws,
Under faked canopy of de-terrorization,
With no tincture of surrender to open truth,
That; in juvenile states like Kenya,
Corruption is a minefield of terrorism,
Corrupt management of state organs;
The policemen and state spies,
Hired on full back-up of corruption,
Gives leeway to thriving of terrorism,
As a security agent hired nepotistic-ally,
Will never fight terrorism with a knack,
Leave police work to policemen with passion,
Not to your kinsmen and loyalists in politics,


I saw jubilant politicians high on nerves,
Excited like a swine on ****** heat,
Or they were possessed by the evil spirit,
Or crushed by the African cult of dictatorship,
Where humanity derives pleasure from political pains,
Scornfully viewing humane governance,
As dictatorship will fortunately give a bloom,
Of swift doors and windows of corruption,
Primitive accumulation of filthy wealth,
And apotheosification of the worthless self,
Into a lull of blind self-made god-ship

I saw a jubilant politician going pugnacious,
Forcefully restoring dark days of Toroitich arap Moi,
Making a law which a monkey cannot make,
Hitting a fellow politicians,
With all might and knack of a devil,
Shredding into laces the trouser of a colleague,
Exposing red lingerie of the fellow colleague,
Partially exposing the tools of child making,
Only to the positive chagrin of us all,
On discovery of the circumcised *****,

I saw jubilant dictator-maniac politicians,
Passing a law of shooting to death,
Him the police feels may be a terrorist,
Or detain at pleasure, without trial
Him that looks ugly like a terrorist,
A suspect is a snake to be crushed the head on sight,
But not all snakes are poisonous Mr. Politico-Jubilant,
Some are ornamental and others poisonously harmless,
Even snakes need fair trial,
Just like suspect of genocide,
Before the international criminal court,
Before a blow of hammer crushes their heads,
Let me ask you my dear reader,
A foolish question as usual;
What are snakes to the jubilant politics of Nairobi?
A political non loyalist who perhaps can chide,
The powers that be from their gusto of power,

I saw jubilant politicians in full gear of idiosyncrancies,
Passing the law to gag friends of the poor,
The NGO’s; the poor man’s uni-source of hope,
They have been relieving the poor man of Kenya,
From horrendous traditions of   epidemics,
In Turkana, Budalangi and marginalized Mandera,
Helping men and women of these areas to be free,
From tyranny of perennially missing basic needs,
This freedom is now thwarted,
Lest it gives these poor men right of speech,
Thwarted artfully in the **** of NGO’S,
Through false label of the time,
That they play *** with terrorist groups,
What a big a lie?

By
Alexander Khamala  Opicho,
Eldoret,Kenya

A hand - dissects - the Lion
Was the Lion bated?
Nature never queried her
Or left her enervated
Magnetic were her movements
Magic - rambunctious roar
Mezmerizing - obsidian stare
That pierces air no more
Her beauty - passion - tainted
Wisdom - eviscerated
The Heart - of Nature's loyalist
By scholar - emaciated

Consider the coffee cup in the bitter early morning
clutched by the weary, in the hands of the sleepwalker.
A Styrofoam chimney that warms bodies to the bones.
Like a silo of potential energy that awakens and inspires.

A companion of the cigarette soft pack, as long as both are full
When empty, a ruffian of a house abandoned
or a vacant playground, a soul void of vivacity.

Sleepy fingers trace the serpentine trail of steam
escaping via vent  in the lid; gateway to wakefulness
Perched in a nest of hands guarding the sanctuary for the alert
This storehouse of caffeine must be rationed.

It’s contents dark, rich, bold, spilling
scolding and fierce and alive.
Consider the coffee cup a comrade, a loyalist
Companion of the diligent, the learning, the weary.

i guess i
find it strange
the way
people i d e n t i f y
and q u a n t i f y
their existence
according to
a version of
a brand of
the divine,

greatly chosen b y
influenced b y
geography and
  family ties.

and i'm sorry, but,
it cannot be
that everyone is
simply describing
the same
phenomena with
different w o r d s
      like a version
           or an update
   or an accent,

because although life
is grey, some things are,
and some things
are not.

there is but one
merriam-webster
dictionary.

dictionary.com also
defines words,
even the
same words
but they are
distinct entities.

they live under
the umbrella of
    a bigger concept
about words
   and language,

they are versions of
explanations of
a more
e l u s i v e
construct -

the word.

and you cannot even grasp
exactly what
  the word is,
because it
depends on
so many factors.

yet most
grab onto and cling to
the first dictionary
thrown at them.

others might exist
and even be
similar,

but you know
you have your favorite,

you are a
brand loyalist.

and the product
is

reality.

which is fine,
i guess,
in and of
itself

as long as
you can admit
that Kleenex is
the best and
Puffs is for
losers.

sure, you might smile at
the Puffs users and
even bring them
a meal,

but deep down inside
you know that
   you are right

**and they are wrong.

The mouth of the sandbanks,
Ireland’s Linenopolis,
Where King Billy rode the walls
Of the loyalist Sandy Row.
Samson and Goliath crane over the skyline
At the dock of the brave Titanic
That, like everything built by Belfast,
It was built to fall.

Good Friday had ended the Trouble,
so we thought,
But when they took down the flag
it was all forgot.
We have never had peace;
But we had found some pride.
After thirty years the fires had ceased,
We’d finally taken that stride.
Working towards putting this country right.

Peaceful protests, that’s what they said
The people’s spirits now filled with dread,
Fearing the riots that loom ahead.
Our gums bleed as we eat the fables we’ve been fed.
Unity is a lie; unity is dead.

Emerald’s Trance

Oh Irish eyes you follow me all through the emerald isle you stop time it runs backward and
Forwards the rush heady the roots of Irish lore entangle me fully I see the loving vesture worn in pride its
Charm is magnified there is much of the Leprechaun and blarney stone just the correct amount to
Solidify a national identity and then to complete everything in magic top it all off with a red headed lass
With the greenest eyes the heart skips and dances all about when you are as full as you think you can
Take then she speaks does not the mystical burst forth openly ancient days flood the valleys sweeping
You into the power that alone is Ireland come with me suspend reality search for the *** of gold you will
Find riches that even surpass gold a place a people where the well springs of charm and laughter echo
Down roads and streets in every village and city every once and a while you need a place you can empty
Your heart and ready your being for thrills without fear I know it has been a land of conflict but in spite
Of it justice takes it all in stride makes it as a whole a tribute to diversity that is tinged with divinity a coloring
That prescribes a peace that finds loyalist pockets but leads on to the far borders where understanding
Shakes itself and gives way to reason as the bowman takes all factors into consideration distance
Wind age bows power weight of arrow and most important experience in hitting the bull’s eye seldom
Is victory and success derived in any other way than by turmoil and hard fighting who can lose when
Your held in the gaze of the greenest green dreams are hard to be defeated she gives nobility to the
cause the fight has purity at the head all will easily fall romantic treasure will fill your lives with greater riches
Than many pots of gold

'Sometimes things just don't make sense and ignoring things won't make you dense, but some people can't say no, so if someday our minds do blow, from curiosity and such, we will no longer keep in our clutch, reality and questions thought, and hopefully we needn't sought the answers, non-factual, we've been taught.'

Answers are for dancers:
Never step left,
always step right.
Right on the course,
where loyalist fight.
Right in the angelic pose that they do.
In fact,
it'd be better if you weren't you.
Just act like they act and you can get by,
do as they do and never ask why.
Answers I give you my dancers,
my prancers,
answers I give you to move the right way.
Answers I give you my dancers,
my prancers,
because with my answers you never will stray.
But if you do,
I assure you,
you've clipped the strings,
and do know that it means
you will shunned,
an existence unseen,
by the people who dance,
the people who sing,
by all the people pulled by my string.

I say,
become a leveller
and
revel in equality,

if needs be
Sexby
to flatten the
country.

Milk for meat
Hype for hope
Lies for love
Ashes for beauty
And yet we all said "amen"
Puppet master
Thy humble puppets, enthralled
...and we have anointed you;
To tell us ...
  What we want to hear
  What we want to read
   What we want to watch

You have execute thy duties;
Tickling our ears to perfection,
With feathers, dipped in ******
Our souls; numbed  
our hearts; tangled in lies.

The parade
The confetti
The Loyalist
An ovation;
To he who sits
lonely, on his throne;
Feeding our emotions,
In your own emptiness.
Sensationalism
Emotional
Temporarily
Seasonal
Hypnotized
Roller coaster ride...
We are dead, like the last generation.

when the night plunged
darkness took me in its closet
i begin to vouch for the taste
my delights, my dreams
we've got nowhere to go
we've got no secrets
and i stand alone with solitary soul
its a consolation
where else you see real picture
the dusky shadows
and murky humor ..
it does not submersed me in its charm
neither voices
nor people..the happening
it never has..it never did
living in cracked life is a joy
pursuing myself
day by day- endless
to get what i lost
i thank heaven
for the mercy he bestowed me with
staying with me..in my worn out heart
it did mend..it did get widen
and the songs of my wonderings persist
without a desire to be heard or
to be understood
it was a solitary ride
about a soulful thought ..forgetful of any cares
they all turned out to be my weary companions
my the loyalist- the friendliest of all
i slowly took everything out of me
minute to minute..it profoundly wounded my affections
and pinched my soul; all my profane profanity stir up
I refuted with all my confessions; and made it be absent!!

In a town where it's always after hours
Where progress and time mean nothing
Neon lighting and sparrows fighting
The call of simplicity becomes enlighting

Streets that remain quiet, Friday nights past 11
Where the bay meets the loyalist man
While fog creeps its way across the land
And cellos play to the tune of a lonely band

Tomorrow night is winding down
As is my familiar little town
Draining away with the rest of the province
Until there is nothing
Save the sound of waves upon the shore

I saw cringe.
You showed honesty.
Hold ideals too fast and
watch the truth get ugly.

Thought I knew
all that I needed,
but with your gentle kindness
something was seeded.

Pony show,
take me home,
to the world,
I belong.
Equestria,
Lunar mama,
guide me home,
Pony show.

Almost perfect,
land of Equines.
From the Crystal Mountains
down into the Badlands.
I feel young there,
younger than my bones,
endless fields of wonder,
tinged with the unknown.

Pony show,
it's my home,
the finest world,
I belong.
Equestria,
Solar mama,
bring me home,
Pony show.

Should I misstep in the dark,
I know they'll catch me,
the loyalist of friends that I could ask for any day.
And when I'm down they all lend me a hoof,
and bring me back again, up smiling, smiling!

Pony show,
it's our home,
it's the world,
we belong.
Equestria,
Twiligh' mama,
we are home,
Pony show.

Consider the background to this war in the Ukraine, consider the effects of the accumulation of generated rage over the decades?

Russia has historically subjugated Ukrainians since the 1930s when Stalin, motivated by racial prejudice and a desire to dominate, implemented a policy of extermination which systematically starved the largely rural population to death in the phenomenon known as the"Holodomor"... and forbade any complaint being uttered by the suffering peasants with the penalty of being frozen to death in the gulags of the wilderness of Siberia.

With the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991, Ukraine became an independent nation by popular decree. This was not received well by  Russia nor by the Russian speaking populace of the Donbass region in the East.

In 2013 revolution occurred in the Maidan Square in Kiev where protestors revolted against the thuggish government of Victor Yakunovych who had implemented, in the face of Russian pressure, a forced decision against the popular choice of the people for the Ukraine to join the European union.

The Maidan revolution resulted in the collapse of the Yakunovych government and his forced sudden retreat to Russia. Pro Russian separatist forces in the Donbass supported by euphemistically titled "Russian Military Advisors" in February of 2014, attacked loyalist forces of the Ukraine in  the self-declared Donetsk and Luhansk republics. Military escalation continued through to 2018 including artillery exchanges and the decision by Russia to militarily invade and annex the Crimean peninsular.

An undeclared war began between Ukrainian forces on one side, and separatists intermingled with Russian troops on the other, although Russia attempted to hide its involvement. The war settled into a static conflict, with repeated failed attempts at a ceasefire. In 2015, the Minsk II agreements were signed by Russia and Ukraine, but a number of disputes prevented them being fully implemented. By 2019, 7% of Ukraine was classified by the Ukrainian government as temporarily occupied territories, while the Russian government had indirectly acknowledged the presence of its troops in Ukraine.

In 2021 and early 2022, there was a major Russian military build-up around Ukraine's borders. NATO accused Russia of planning an invasion, which it denied. Russian President Vladimir Putin criticized the enlargement of NATO as a threat to his country and demanded Ukraine be barred from ever joining the military alliance. He also expressed Russian historic views, questioning Ukraine's right to exist, and stated wrongfully that Ukraine was created by Soviet Russia. On 21 February 2022, Russia officially recognized the two self-proclaimed separatist states in the Donbas, and openly sent troops into the territories. Three days later, Russia invaded Ukraine. Much of the international community has condemned Russia for its actions in post-revolutionary Ukraine, accusing it of breaking international law and violating Ukrainian sovereignty. Many countries implemented economic sanctions against Russia, Russian individuals, or companies, especially after the 2022 invasion.

The Russian genocide handbook was published on April 3, two days after the first revelation that Russian servicemen in Ukraine had murdered hundreds of people in Bucha, and just as the story was reaching major newspapers.  The Bucha massacre was one of several cases of mass killing that emerged as Russian troops withdrew from the Kiev region.  This means that the genocide program was knowingly published even as the physical evidence of genocide was emerging.  The writer and the editors chose this particular moment to make public a program for the elimination of the Ukrainian nation as such.

Legally, genocide means both actions that destroy a group in whole or in part, combined with some intention to do so.  Russia has done the deed and confessed to the intention.....and incidentally, recently Ukraine geophysicists discovered vast gas and oil deposits in the, then, Ukrainian administered segment of the Black Sea. These deposits would have had the capacity and potential to render the Ukraine, not only independent of Russian hydrocarbon dependence but also capable of being developed into a major commercial supplier of oil and gas to the European community. Russia's annexation of Crimea and the recent military occupation of the Eastern corridor effectively opens the door to Russian monopolization of these deposits...and closes the door to Ukrainian aspirations!

Ukraine bleeds, Russia’s Putin must live with the guilt of the suffering and destruction he has caused for the rest of his living days. Emotions are running high on the vast steppes of Central Asia, whatever the outcome of this turmoil, decades of hate and resentment, violence and vengeance have been wrought by this action, the birth of this animosity shall grow and pervade, unhindered, for centuries in the heart of the angry denizens of this poor, tortured land.

Ukraine, Ukraine...Cry the Beloved Country

M.
20 April 2022

I fall upon my knees, your beauty always surrounds me.
Heaven open up, the Angels Praise your Most Worthy Name.
I am but an weak man whom fail you, I am weak and lost.
But since you Saved me, you have totally Saved me O Lord.
So I will never forget, that its not me but you whom works within me.
I shall never Forget, that it was you that has restore me and bless me.
So whom am I , but your most loyalist Servant ready to do your will.
For you O Beautiful One has saved me from the death that I once was in.
O Beautiful One , I shall never forget that I owe you my life and more.

Troubadour of the city, whose entreaties have me captive
Thou art a devotee and loyalist of heart
In thee I see the genius of Love, a passion native
Activity refined, most exquisite art
Meandering o'er streets and greens
Goes troubadour, sauntering to inner music
On a path of fire and passion the melody careens
Imbued with cosmic tune melodic
At the loom of my life the troubadour weaves
I wake to go wild upon the call of Love
Each dalliance one of the falling leaves
From life's wizened tree, her blossom roves
     O troubadours thy melodies make
     The stained and sullied spirit wake

Life can be unbearable and terrible
If you're alone in this life..
Happiness...

That is a really hard word to comprehend because you really don't know where you're actually happy at Till It's gone and to someone take it from you
Then it becomes a distant memory....

That's why you should sit down and treasurer those moments with someone special like you my deer Alyssa ... listen

I take you for granted

I really don't deserve you....

Honestly I shouldn't have anyone...

Because I am a monster

Hear me out

I disrespect you
I dismiss your wishes....



Somehow. you find a way to forgive me. Again every time

But why...
I should be asking that question myself....
Cuz you love me....


I love you too
I just don't show it

I guess I wallow in myself misery that reflects on the people I pose to care about

That makes me a hypocrite
And a coward...

I do not like to admit the
Truth
I don't think no one does

But I digress

I've been a coward my whole life standing on my hind legs cowering in a corner preying on the weak...

I guess it's supposed to make me feel strong but I
Feel weak....  because my bezique.. Is rotting through the  corps ...

Once in a lifetime every coward have a. Saviour
That one

The one with a beautiful brown eyes remind me of stars in the night sky
A heart made of gold

With the prettiest smile to make you weak in the knees....

The loyalist person in my whole entire life...

But I lied so many times...
Believe me I'm going to pay for it one day
When that day comes I do not want to be alone in the dark...

I want you to be aside me

For all eternity in Paradise

Please save me from these demons

They are clouding my mind

I'm a lost King who is losing his Queen.....

In the Kingdom of Lost Love....

I stole your heart

Here the key to mine

There's my. Confession
Love you and miss you
Alyssa

A day after the midterms, Trump
Showed that he was true to form,
Once again reminding us that
Effrontery is becoming the norm.

In a brazen act of utter defiance,
Trump fired Jeff Sessions,
The attorney general, which adds one more
Deed to the list of Trump's transgressions.

Ignoring the normal line of succession,
Trump installed as acting chief
A loyalist, since loyalty is
The current admin's leitmotif.

Matt Whitiker is the man--
Known as the West Wing's "eyes and ears."
Another case of obstruction of justice?
At least that's how the move appears.

Whitiker has a paper trail
A mile long, criticizing
The Mueller probe, so Trump wants him
In charge of the case. How NOT surprising!

The DOJ is supposed to be
Fair and impartial. Not anymore.
If Whitiker doesn't recuse himself,
We all know what's in store.

It's frightening how the DOJ
Is tied to the president's apron strings.
Innocent people have nothing to fear;
Desperate people do desperate things.

-by Bob B (11-8-18)

the sweetest of all glory
ahh my heart
the natives of all
the naive of all
and the Loyalist the most....

By: Cedric McClester

Do you know
What it says,
To believe no one cares
But still ask for their prayers?
Do you know,
What it means,
To be on TV screens
Before his loyalist fiends?

Did you know,
Those MAGA hats,
Are like waving baseball bats,
To those fringe element cats?
And did you realize.
The things most of us despise,
Are alright in their eyes,
So they won’t criticize?


Do you know,
The President,
Shows his bad intents,
And it doesn’t make sense?
You see, he complains
Trying to baffle our brains,
Though the fact still remains
That goes through great pains

His overreach,
Has made Congress impeach
For the lesson it will teach
And he hasn’t even reached
His second term
Though it will affirm
He has reason to squirm
Like a rainy day worm


Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2019.  All rights reserved.