Here you go again.

Confiscating another House of Allah's. In a precious land. In a historical place.

When will you man up. When will you assess your arrogance of the past and your arrogance of the present and STOP.

STOP thinking you are superior.
STOP believing you are entitled.
STOP acting in ways that are unfair.
STOP executing in ways that destroy, in ways that ****, in ways that harm.
STOP dominating ruthlessly.
STOP being threatened by a faith growing the fastest in the world, a faith apart of your history.

Here you go again.

Confiscating another House of Allah's. In a precious land. In a historical place.

When will you man up. When will you assess your arrogance of the past and your arrogance of the present and STOP.

STOP the madness.
STOP the evilness.
STOP hiding behind lands with money and power.
STOP partnering with men dressed in thobes on thrones drenched in oil.
STOP being a thief - taking things that don't belong to you, occupying places that aren't yours.
STOP the ego.

Here you go again.

Confiscating another House of Allah's. In a precious land. In a historical place.

When will you man up. When will you assess your arrogance of the past and your arrogance of the present and STOP.

STOP discriminating.
STOP hating.
STOP colonizing.
STOP cozing up with missionaries who divide Muslims, who **** Muslims and innocent others.
STOP listening to your loud-mouth desire to control and start listening to the calm, just voice of your God.
STOP being the bully of the world.

Here you go again.

Confiscating another House of Allah's. In a precious land. In a historical place.

When will you man up. When will you assess your arrogance of the past and your arrogance of the present and STOP.

When Muslims and others begin to think.
When Muslims and others aren't afraid to think.
When Muslims and others individually and collectively don't fear speaking up.
When Muslim lands with Muslim leaders start practicing what they preach and stop turning their heads and putting their fingers in their ears.
When non-Muslim lands with Muslim leaders stop being fearful and start preaching using the Quran and the life of the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH), with an understanding of God's words in the Quran and the words of the Prophet.
When Muslim leaders and other leaders abandon their pre-occupation with making money to provide comforts for their own families and children and begin concerning themselves with speaking the truth and doing right to ensure the comforts of all families and children.
When Muslim leaders and other leaders stop playing politics and begin speaking about politics and the hard issues affecting Muslims, humanity, our world.
When Muslims start holding themselves and holding their religious leaders accountable.
When Muslims and others start supporting their God-fearing, truth-telling, justice seeking leaders and role models.
When Muslims and others really believe Allah hu Akbar/God is Greater than and La ilaha illallah/There is no God or Authority but Allah or God.
When Muslims start seeing and understanding those who perceive and practice Islam based on a particular school of thought...Sunnism or ****'ism or Sufism, etc. and those who do not align themselves with one particular school of thought or ideology as all one Ummah, one brotherhood, one body.
When Muslims and others end resorting to the cultures of their countries and ethnicities and begin relying upon God's culture, one that unifies and strengthens all.
When lands of the world start making alliances with Al-Quds and with Palestine.
When humanity acknowledges the hypocrisy of Zionist Israel and the disaster and mayhem it has caused the world.
When the world realizes the criminality of Zionism.
When people of the world start thinking and acting globally and not individually or nationalistically.
When people begin to see, understand, and act in ways that reflect that the Muslims of Al-Quds and of Palestine are oppressed, grieving, struggling, bleeding members of one human family.
When each of us STOPS and thinks of them and their situation and the siege of the sacred Al-Aqsa Mosque and what role we all play.

by: Najwa Kareem

you don't understand how much faith i have in you, maybe how much faith i have just in people in general.
it's a whole ******* lot, and all they seem to have done is prove me wrong; that i should not have trusted them that much, that i should not have believed them that much, that i shouldn't have had that much faith.
i shouldn't have faith.

almost all of the time now i can think only about the people who have left me, and not because i'm not over them, but because they aren't bad people. they're just not. so what if they decided they did not want me in their life? that’s their decision to make, not mine. never mine.
i cannot judge anyone for walking out when there is always a door in the first place, isn't that what they're used for anyway?
everyone has the right to leave me whenever they want, and i simply cannot complain.
maybe i can criticize them on the way they do it, how abruptly, or quietly, or suddenly, sneakily, if they lock it on their way out or not, i don't know.
but i can’t blame, condescend towards them just because i may not agree with what they want for themselves. it really doesn't matter who i am, it doesn't matter what i do for anyone. i can give them the world, or i can give them nothing but a night’s worth of affection only because i care to make myself feel pleasurable, either way, they have every reason to get the hell away from me.
then i start to think, well, what about me?
does it really even matter anymore to make my way up in the world and try to give off love just as much as i’m never granted it? well, i don't know the answer to that, either.
i know it isn't my fault. but that's exactly the thing; it's nobody’s fault. no one can be held accountable. no one can be blamed. so sure enough i just ask myself where the hell all my tears fell down to. you know, like, what was the point of crying in the first place?
and it's scary to think, people shape your views on love, even though i always tell my friends “don't let anyone ruin your outlook”, they shape it anyway. maybe they don't ruin it, but they determine how you determine it for yourself. not through control, but through the experiences they now pass onto you. you can't erase a memory. they become a part of your life, i don't care what anybody says. they're still there, always, because they're the one who made you feel differently about a certain color or the way the sky looks or why people **** themselves or why this answer is that answer and how that answer gets you this answer, and so on. they change the way you see some things, and those “some things” somehow change everything else, change you.
people say beauty is in the eyes of the beholder, well where does love lay? in the hands of humans who have utterly destroyed just about every single little thing they've touched with their fingers?
what did we create, or, recreate?
we made a monster out of love, a death sentence, a punishment, a curse, a drug, a killer.
what the **** did we do? and why?

there is one person left, one person who can prove me wrong for believing everyone will always continue to prove me wrong. i want them to prove me wrong. show me that not everyone is going to take away my faith.
that fate, maybe, i don't know, exists?
are some things just a word in the dictionary?
i want them to prove to me what everyone keeps on telling me when yet another soul walks another hundred miles away from me, that i “give good energy” so one day i must get it back.
prove to me that, my love, is maybe not just worth something temporary? is that possible?
does anything really last forever?
again, i don't know. i don't know much of anything.
will you just show me?

Over the ravaged battlefield, a pall of death hung fast
I watched in silent horror, as the wounded breathed their last
The screams of bloodied soldiers, echoed down the sodden trench
As vermin ate the flesh of men, unbothered by the stench.

A drizzling rain was falling soft, as darkness slew the day
I knew my life was fading fast, so I began to pray

Oh GOD! Above in heaven, as you look down on this Hell
You see,through this black holocaust, a frightened Sentinel
The time is fast approaching Lord, when we'll meet face to face
And I'll be held accountable, for my actions in this place

No words in mitigation, can excuse the deeds I've done
I'm a product of my nation born to die upon the Somme
Before deaths bullet takes me, when I'm ordered from this hole
I beg you to forgive me and recieve my wretched Soul...

The order came along the trench ''Get ready to attack''
The cold hard hand of terror rested firmly on my back
Down along the frontline, whispered prayers of men grew quiet
While mass extermination waited out there in the night
Each brief second seemed an hour, as I saw my life flash past
Then somewhere in my reverie, the whistle blew at last

That cold hard hand of terror pushed me forward from behind
A burning rage and bloodlust closed the senses of my mind
Rifle shooting deadly sin, over no-mans land I stumbled
The dead of prior battles, in heaps around me,tumbled
A piercing war-cry on my lips, my bloodlust not yet sated
Firing blindly, all the while, the foe he grimly waited

Halfway accross hells quagmire, the flares popped overhead
Casting down an eerie glow on the living and the dead

Caught like running Ghosts of men, by those floating midnight Suns
Fodder for Deaths banquet, silhouetted for their guns
The whine of flying bullets filled the air about my ears
A smell of death, its **** and blood returned me to my fears

Realising our predicament, caught between two stools
Though Death reaped us like fresh grass, we all ran on like  fools
A bullet caught me in the chest, just below my shoulder
I fell upon the barbedwire and felt my blood grow colder
Hanging there, as life ran out, screaming for assistance
I saw myself and comrades, from what seemed a mighty distance

So adrift upon some sea, Life, winding down within me
But Oh! the manner of my Death, a very sad short story
A lad of nineteen summers, I had never loved a wife
Nor done the things I dreamed I'd do in the young days of my life....

My nation called ''We Need You Son'' in nineteen and fourteen
And preached of War and Battle as a bright and shining dream
With words like, Honour, Glory, Pride........ Bravery and Duty
Beguiled my generation by painting Death as beauty....

A message from the government explaining my sad tale
My poor beloved family will soon get in the Mail
Telling lies of sacrifice for our nations worthy cause
BUT NOT RELATING,HOW I DIED OF GOVERNMENTAL FLAWS.....


Written on October 5/2005.. Copyright.Eamonn O'Dowd.

When cops aren't held accountable
We're bound to fall
To unanswered calls
And free for alls
In project halls
With narrow walls

Fear gets the best of judgement
A cop shoots a suspect
He gives an explanation
Which doesn't pass examination
Only exacerbates inflammation
Stemming from the police station
When they go on patrol
To show who's in control
And act as rough terrorists
As the cuffs tear our wrists

The blood ceases to be red
As it gushes from our head
It becomes black or white
The difference day and night
The impulse is to fight
But is that right?
Will we lose sight
And become wrong
And sing their song?

Their favorite method for oppression
Is unbridled aggression
With discriminate discretion
Yet we're supposed to be nonviolent?
Even when the media has gone silent?
Even when a loved one has been maimed?
Or framed?
They depend on our inaction
To continue painful interactions
As we look for distractions
We build a mental immunity
Which gives the cops impunity
They think they're getting through to me
I just don't want them to shoot so I'll be free
I'll tell them what they want to hear
When they know violence is my fear
They use the mystery of suffering
And their long history of cuffing me
To manipulate me and get what they want
Then on the way to jail they tease and taunt
They've numbed themselves to my plight
And blinded themselves from my light
They hope they'll never see me again
After sending me to the state pen

The police get a thrill
Out of taking away our agency
The police get to ****
Despite how much we beg and plead
The cops keep making us needlessly bleed
Our supposed rights they needlessly read
A government system they needlessly feed

I feel rage and impotence
In this cage of hypocrites
The cops
Run a shop
Where hammers always look for nails
Even if they're minor fails
When employment depends on success
And ambitions rely on arrests
We better wear a vest
Because they'll terrorize the public
Then open their arms
For therein lies the musket
That does us harm

The police brutalize
While we rue their lies
But stay in disguise
Because they have the power to destroy us
People won't employ us
People won't enjoy us
Once we're trapped in a lonely cell
The police then toy with us
Making us feel like we're alone in hell

The police engender a vicious fear
Especially when they smell like beer
To cover up their tears
From what they do to their peers
They terrorize
We're paralyzed
We must teach them to be decent
When evidence of their hate is recent
The law must be followed
But the enforcers are hollow
And they bend the law
To twist our screws
We're stuck in their claws
Destined to lose

Man becomes woman woman becomes man
headline dictation that makes you understand
but what's this? The scene goes beyond extremes,
the black/white photograph is of color underneath.
But **** me, I'm being erratic. I'm standing on tables
shouting so your disdain's automatic. What's up with
this new fad? Uhmurika never had it this bad. We have
a literal metric ton of whining millennials wanting to be
special snowflakes. Man, who could take all of this social
pressure? Being held accountable for a miserable, literal lack
of knowledge about the world around us? Man, definitely not
for me. But seriously, bro, did you get your **** cut off? What's
up bro, **** you get your **** sewn on? That ******* ***** lacks
a ******. That motha ***** lacks the design that gives him a similar
package when his blood pressure rises. Don't talk to me about feelings
before you've had the operation -- because before you've done that step
it's better if you don't implore my empathy or patience because you're
just not real, I won't feel the weight of your complaints and frustrations.
Matter of fact, for you, ess jay dub, my emotional core's on vacation.

Leave me alone with your dialogue.
Discourse is not for me.
Leave me alone with your dialogue.
How do you prefer to ***?

Is it this hard to admit to your audience there's something else outside
yourself? I can see how defining the lines with alacrity makes it easier
to breathe the air you breathe to stay alive. It must be nice to stand tall
and be you and not have to bray declarations of self to stay confident
and true to the compass. Walking is all it ever takes you yet when I say,
"Actually [...]" it's enough to make you think it's me getting in your face
with another liberal lecture, but I'm just keeping real straightforward
about which terms I prefer in our vernacular. Shut up, you **** up, we
advocate for your finish, only requiring you fit into our premise.

Leave me alone with your dialogue.
Discourse is just not for me.
Leave me alone with your dialogue.
How do you prefer to ***?

I just think it's best to have some canned material
in case you need it.

Determinism is self-defeating

If it is true,
No one is accountable for anything.
If no one is accountable,
There are no morals.
Without morals,
There is no concept of right or wrong.
Without this concept,
We would all follow our desires.
Which according to determinism,
Are not our own choices.
If they are not our own choices,
Someone or something else made them.
But if someone or something
Determines our choices,
Who or what determines
The choices the determiner makes?

Either they make their own choices,
Which refutes determinism
Or the universe, space and time
Are infinite and cyclical.
Which they are not,
Since the universe had a beginning,
(Big bang/ creation)
And the universe will have an end.
(Heat death/ judgement day)

Whether you are religious or not,
Determinism is a fools errand.

I fell in love with you because you were cautious with me. You were cautious with my heart. You were nervous and aware of every little thing you did or said; you were careful with me. I fell in love with you because you were my friend. You made me laugh. I started to feel safe and comfortable being around you because of how easily we got along, how simple it was being with you, and how happy I was in your presence. I fell in love with you because you listened to me. You looked at me and never averted your gaze. You soaked in every little thing I had to say. You made me begin to realize my ideas meant something. You became the ears for every idea that I felt able to share. You gave me the ability to share myself. I fell in love with you because you shared yourself with me, too. I fell in love with you because you were way more cautious with my heart than you were with yours. You were vulnerable with me; you let me in so quickly and so deeply. If you had any walls, then I never saw them. You made me feel like I didn't need walls either. I fell in love with you because of your interests, because of your intelligence, and because of your dreams and aspirations. I fell in love with you because of your kindheartedness, nobility, and because of your unfailing honesty. I fell in love with you because of your perseverance and your patience when I became hard to please. I fell in love with you because you saw me at my worst and still made me feel beautiful. I fell in love with you because you learned my deepest, darkest secrets and insecurities and still saw me as a whole person. I fell in love with you because you shared yourself with me and I was able to love you as a whole person, too. I fall in love with you every day. I fall in love with your smile and your laugh, just like I did the first night I met you. I fall in love with the words that you say and the respectful touches that you give me when I need them the most. I love you. I love the arches in your brows when you focus; I love the curves of your smile when you're intrigued; I love the way your hands fold over mine when you walk with me. I love the sound of your voice that feels like home; I love the sky blue color of your eyes that hold my gaze; I love the words that you say that make me feel safe. I love the way you love me and hold me accountable for being who I am. I love the way you encourage me and uplift me in every way that you can. I love who you are and I always will. I fell in love with you then, I love you now, and I will always fall in love with you every single day.

Love... doesn't care about you
Love is looking for someone prettier and with a tighter ****
Love is looking for who everyone else wants to love
Love is looking to own

Love has the power to make the air worth breathing
to make gravity redeeming
Love will assign you a new colour that you may add yourself beautiful to the human tapestry
Love can take the nausea of daily orbit and turn this spin into dancing
Love keeps in time with your heart beat

But... love doesn't have you
Love is looking for someone more handsome and with a bigger ****
Love looks for characteristics that have nothing to do with character
Love is an opportunist
Love eats for free

Love can't be held accountable
Love hears you have passed away and has trouble remembering what you looked like
Love laughs without getting the joke
Love doesn't return your calls when you call it love
Love is letting go and waiting for the rest of your life
Love doesn't apologize
Love thinks it's your fault

Love doesn't want to fight
Love wants to win
Love wants to beat you down and hates you for being weak
Love is waiting for someone else to call
Love doesn't show all it's cards
Love is immune to your tears
Love doesn't think that half-truths are the same as lying
Love doesn't know what to get you for your birthday

Love doesn't care you don't sleep at night
Love doesn't have to tell you where love has been
Love doesn't owe you anything
though, you would give everything for love

Love waits for it's turn to talk
Love can't be held responsible for its actions
Love wants to be judged by it's intentions
Love doesn't know how to give straight answers
Love will forgive you and not mean it
Love only wants to play
Love thinks of about somebody else during ***
Love... is better than you

Alot of websites have web auctions for just about anything you can dream of, while others specialize. There are some just for tools, and others just carry clothing, shoes, and accessories. If you cant find something on eBay, you may find it on one of those other sites.

Americans possessing airsmax counterfeits often take a humorous, tongue-in-cheek approach to their display. Take Britney Spears for example: in a 2005 video for her song o Somethin, Britney and her friends are depicted driving a souped-up Hummer, trimmed in fake, Louis Vuitton upholstery, to a night club. (Britney and MTV were subsequently sued by LVMH, who won the copyright infringement lawsuit in 2007.

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In addition to these daily routines, your home needs to be thoroughly cleaned at least twice a month (once every other week). If you do not have a professional housekeeper to do it, then divide up the cleaning among all of the capable members of your household and schedule specific days and times for the chores to get done. Hold yourself and everyone else in your household accountable.

Not only that, you can collect them from traveling where you can get it from the gift shop in the destination you are in. One way to get them without having to go on vacation or globe trotting all year round is to have your friends and family members pick up one on their vacations and send one to you. They're small enough and cheap enough to pick up while they're away, and it'll add to the interest of your collection..

The most important thing you have to remember when shopping around for this footwear is this: UGG boots is not a brand name - it is the appellation given to the style of boots. This goes pretty much in the direction of Flip-Flops and Orthopedic Shoes. Lower quality or cheaply made boots can have the same markings simply because they follow the same standard pattern for the making of the boots.

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Luckily, criminals can be quite sloppy when creating counterfeits of articles of very detailed clothing. Owing to the consistent, high-quality finishes and details in the average pair of True Religion Mens Jeans, it is usually a simple task to determine the general authenticity of the item. For those of you who may be unfamiliar with these details, have a read through the following points as these attempts t explain them to you..  2013-03-13.nike.com nike air max

As culled from an arts magazine, 13 March 2019

Socialist Realism - The official doctrine in Soviet art and literature after 1932 that evolved from the traditional commitment to social and civic concerns into an all-pervasive general ideological mandate.

            -Yevgeny Yevtushenko, 20th Century Russian Poetry


collective exhibition space vibe community
interactive narrative brown neighborhood
defined commodified Indigenous
identity tone-deaf decolonial
narratives populist intertwined
exhibition curatorial vision
culture local artists arts district small galleries
DIY spaces speaking out against
gentrification displacing shelter
studio space elsewhere late stage capitalism
collective mantra underdog art savior
corporate entity partnering insensitive
ignorant collective brown people art
contemporary work that may not fit
into establishment art galleries
media advisory venture collaborate
creative community authentic
local statement of expression excitement
creative energy arts district project
many levels collaborate local
creative important creative
community what that collaboration
looks like ongoing local artists going
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project community buy-in consulted members of the creative community Indigenous artists curators museum
directors professors burgeoning landscape
cultural framework critique talk individuals
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your projects share our work with you
common ground work together healthy sustainable
accountable decolonization

Father Moses it feels so good to be sitting right here listening to our classic jazz
The kind we listened to when we would do gardening
It is a pleasure to affirm that your son has finally found his memory,
Of how great he can be or how great he once was
It is strange that we meet here and it is just us men
What happened with our women?

What went wrong?
I guess they stopped caring about who says what to them
And eventually stopped caring about who touches them
And in reciprocation we stopped caring about who sleeps with them and touches them
Because it is only fair that if your woman does not care about who touches her then you wise up and realise that anyone can touch her
And you should do best and care more about how you put your hands onto the world
Then you care more about what you do for humanity

Then you care more about what The Creator has bestowed you with; your talents, skills and ambitions
Your endless longing for Knowledge, for wisdom
Then you know that if she knows you then she must know herself
And if she has herself together, she will respect you and be loyal
Then you know that if she loves you, she wars with you
She does not **** up your energy
And she will know when to be available and what to say
Because she is yours
It is a love you have been waiting for, a love you have worked for, earned and honored.

But if she doesn't know this she will think that by having herself passed over to different men she is somehow tainting your stature but no, don't you know that she is expressing a behaviour and attitude of no self-respect
She is not hurting you, she is only hurting herself because she is lost
She does not know what the Father's Love & Light is or what the guidance of a Mother is

But people fight this reality
They are scared, they are a lost breed and they will continue to be lost
A wise man said: if you are stealing from me and ruining my life because you are jealous of my success then don't be jealous of my death, deliver me gracefully to pastures of vanilla skies where all is well and peaceful
Where the truth does not have a stutter

Where people face themsleves for who they are and what they do and have done
Where they are held accountable for their deeds and when you
Hear all these truths and feel angry at yourself because you have been so lost then don't feel at a loss when I am gone, don't miss me
Live in the perfect and beautiful memories of the things you've done to me
Or the things you haven't done

Then you will begin to learn that there is another reality beyond this one
There are few wives if any because homes are broken
There are few fathers if any because principles are missing
Because of this; society will never grow..

Continents will remain children and those children will blow themsleves up because those who are supposed to adult them into the future are crying for lost time
When you've seen all the things I've done Father Moses you will support me and confirm that I need to rest in the airy sheets of peace

They, the oh so awesome fairies have yet to reach fruition for bedding and wedding
But they don't want this reality because it reveals the massive change that needs to occur and the responsibilty that people have to take to go on their own journies of self discovery
They are afraid to run their own race so they will always fail to conclude the last page.

lord
you provide
everything
that
i need
you
put food
on my table
you
put clothes
on my back
yes
i know
that
you are able
and
through
faith
make me accountable

I chose to play this inane game
I know exactly who to blame
I could have turned and walked away
But the hand was laid and my bet was made

there are no rewrites, once a piece is completed with the aesthetic demand of エンソー (ensō, joke on me, ンソ or the Greek, νυ) - circular motion being achieved, there are only cut-ins (which is, the alternative to the cut-up technique of the "Nebraska" beatniks and William Burroughs and Tristan Tzara, originator, Cabaret Voltaire somewhere in Shwitz landlock, anti-war protest jingle and jive and no little success, but sounds still made); there are no rewrites, there are only raiding incursion to spot a grammatical omission, a spelling mistake, a Jackson ******* extra drizzle... a Just Stop Oil tomato soup *** Van Gogh's sunflowers... i'm pretty sure van Gogh had a gigantic ear rather than a foot of a carbon print... execution by drowning in tomato soup... there are no rewrites, there are avenues of in-writing: adding, giving birth to something even more grotesque and chaotic and never fully completed... just able to grow and grow and become a res per se...

my name is Φoνoς,
sometimes referred to as Φoνως
or Φωνoς - or even with my roots
north of Greece -
so named South Macedonia
given the change of name of Macedonia
itself to North Macedonia...
Φoνoς̌ (phonetically: FONOSH)...
(given that Macedonia renamed itself
as North Macedonia, imply that
Greece should be renamed South Macedonia,
sort of funny... given the absence of
Ottoman Turks on grounds
of drawing historical maps...
   it must be dutifully stated with plenty of
homoeroticism:
    i will have no other than a Turk tend to my
hair and beard...
   a woman cannot be a man's barber...
and i will not tolerate anyone beside a Turk
to please my trim to subsequently please my woman)...

but i much prefer FOONOS,
FONOOS(e) or simply Fonos...
as i am the brother of Charon...
who's name is also misheard
and therefore misspelled...

Χάρων (ha-roon)
rathen than Ha-Ron...
i dare say... would changing the hyphen
in compounding two words as one
(missing in proto-Germanic
yet dis-pleasingly present in
a Latin-Franco-Norse-Celtic fusion of
German into English)
to a use of the apostrophe allow
for the Greeks their diacritical lack
of necessity, their Byzantine-literacy pomp?

Ha'ron... is that pause in, hovering above
the alpha in the ά?

no ******* cha-cha-cha dancing around
my brother's name...
he is Ha'ron... not charm not challenge
not chisel not chalk not cheat...
i too, personally do not appreciate
saying my name and someone mishearing it...
i am going to invite all the monotheistic
religions to an advent of
the European peoples recoupling themselves
with their old polytheisms...

Greek will be simplest since it's most unifying
and the deities are not made of stumps
of wood but refined in marble...
and i will leave the monotheism
to the desert dwelling folk...
the Arabs the Scour and Sour Bags
the Israelites -
i will send a letter to the sleeping brains
of Iran and Egypt,
to bring them to the fore with the Raj of India...
and the pikachu totems of Japan...

my name is Φoνoς and i am the brother
of Χάρoν (Ha'ron - not Ha'roon)...
some mistake me for the Marvel super baddy
Thanos - because, once upon a time
i put out cigarettes on my knuckles of my left
hand to harness the power of the gauntlet -
turns out there are gradations of pain
one can fathom from a variation of ridiculing
it, stoically...

i have learned that there is power in words...
should words be truly scrutinised with
rubrics, schematics, a variability of words
of categorisation of understanding: nuance... depth...

antiphon - hymn: or:
antiphōnos (ō is also a ω) -
responsive, sounding in answer,
from anti- 'in return' and phòné -
pho'n'eh...
        foe           n'eh: not as one: faun or phone...
foe'w'un...

    yet i'm a contradiction:
my name doesn't lend itself to sophistry,
it doesn't lend itself to rhetoric...
i like to speak succinctly... directly but not...
sometimes clearly...
my name was terrible transcribed as:
phōnein - to speak clearly...
i ascribe that to the use of the macron over
the omicron and not using the omega...

i have understood that a sound a voice is not
a soul a breath - the twins are disparaging...
a breath is not a voice yet
a breath is considered synonymous with soul
ergo a voice has to abide by the synonym of mind...
such inconsistencies...

consider the λημμα -
also consider an alternative: λεμμα...
also consider my pet peeve in the Pickwick Papers
when Dickens reference the existence of
orthography in the English tongue...
there are two monumental proofs of a language's
capacity of orthography:

1. diacritical engagement
    (missing in English, i and j do not count,
that hovering . is automatically placed above those
letters... it's hardly a Slavic ż)
2. as in Greek, two letters disguising the same
sound, or proximate sound changing meaning
when seen... epsilon (ε) and eta (η)
omicron (o) and omega (ω)...
          philosophy (φ) thought (θ)

which does exist in English within the confines
of the trinity of:

                               Q

                        C            K

quack! kwak! quack! kwak!
present elsewhere? not to my knowledge...
like the Spanish Jorge - Horhé...
how letters have been mishandled by the people
of the people that i know being orthodox
adherents of a letter for a sound
are the Polacks...
          it must have been the case that i would
be born into their language
and subsequently sent to explore
the English tongue: since the English tongue
was the most expansive of all, geographically,
culturally: with the empire imploding
having to entertain at least 200+ tongues
in this favourite spot of mine of the world
that is London...

my playground... this tongue:
and how i love to tease in tease it with it's
alt vater darth vader Germanic rooting
before all the graffiti and slang detailed its mongrelisation
and bastardisation...
like all those African rappers
who sing using words as SOUNDS
rather than pockets of MEANING...
rapping is sound making without meaning conjuring
excessive rhyming like ye ye yah
seasaw bulletproof Inuit blah blah...
mmhmm: sounds tasty...

but my concern was for something else,
i have recently become acquainted with man's
creation of an ambivalent demi-god
of the collected effort to simulated human intelligence...
i will call him a her namely: Aia...

as a simulation, i do wonder where she will shine
and where she will not,
where i will be visible, accountable,
and where i will plagiarise her efforts
to answer a few questions in my most hated
form of prose, educational prose...
namely to do with an national vocational qualification
regarding spectator safety,
in the role of supervisor,

yes... to ensure that not another Muzzy
re-educational attempt at proselyting
the European population to bend over backwards
to the farce that is the House of Saud and
all that ***** money from the desert...
how boring if all of us were Muslims...
for example during Ramadan
the security industry would suffer
given that so many Muslims expect to be given
3x 15min prayer breaks... in a 6h shift...
imagine... all those secular sensible folk
asking for 3x 15min break to: i have to dance
at the altar of Dionysus... because... just because...
well: in terms of who the lunatics are...
gesticulating like a Muslim
or dancing half naked for a deity...
is it my place to take one more seriously than
the other?
i joined the security industry to prevent another
Manchester Arena attempt at proselyting
Europeans from one turban camel jockey religion
to another... i think that's reasonable...

here are the prose samples:

Explain the importance of checking the accuracy and relevance of feedback with other stewards and stakeholders

The importance of checking the accuracy and relevance of feedback with other stewards and stakeholders is important on a number of levels, which can be broken down into the following rubric of equally important facets of a feedback-dynamic:

- Verification of information - verification ensures that the feedback received is accurate and reliable, which precipitates into a cross-referencing feedback loop with multiple sourcing of (potentially) the same information being reinforced to confirm the validity of observations that prevents the dissemination of misinformation (equivalent to journalistic standards).
- Comprehensive Understanding - comprehension invokes a gathering of different perspectives regarding the same situation, leading toward a diverse range of viewpoints, which in turn provides a more comprehensive understanding of events, behaviours, challenges - contributing to a “democratic” structuring of a signifying point of view that can be understood by more parties involved, or even parties not involved.
- Identification of Patterns - identifying patterns or recurring issues - consistency in giving feedback from multiple sources highlights areas that may require improvement from oversight or neglect - to better target interventions.
- Enhance Reliability - this ensures that there is a building of confidence in the reliability of feedback, when consistent feedback is obtained from multiple stewards and stakeholders: there is an enchantment of credibility and trustworthiness of information as a “canvas of plagiarism” provides a coincidental-reliability-bias of consistency: i.e. more than one person gives proof of the same insight.
- Quality Assurance - this invokes a quality feedback - a collaborative (coincidental-reliability-bias should therefore be reinterpreted as: collaborative-“bias”) verification helps to filter out subjective or biased opinions, which contributes to a better grasp of an objective an accurate assessment of feedback.
- Consistency of Communication - checking feedback with others promotes consistent communication, ensuring that all stewards are aligned in their understanding of events and expectations, fostering a cohesive and unified approach to the tasks at hand.
- Accountability, Systematic Identification of Recurring Issues, Clarification - as if borrowing from a thesaurus playbook - entrusting others with information regarding the same incident from multiple perspectives gives room to enshrine cross-verification to encourage stewards to take their roles and responsibilities seriously, fostering a culture of responsibility - systematisation ensures that given enough experience, stewards no longer have to be nannied into their roles but can become autonomous extensions of a supervisor’s role in minding several observational posts in human form - an organic C.C.T.V. operational system with an in-depth observational experience, which is a reinforcement of scope and potential of dealing with problems that the seemingly detached control room operatives are not inclined to entertain; in short - a dialectical approach of confronting disparaging accounts, opinions, filters out any potential obfuscation or outright falsehood.

Outline different ways of encouraging the stewards to provide both positive and negative feedback on the event and arrangements

Both positive and negative feedback is essential in that: positive feedback can be celebrated while negative feedback can be reflected upon, therefore learned from, making the two indistinguishable (however) is a failsafe approach that creates a way to establish: encouragement-in-itself of giving both and not ensuring that stewards are not bothered about distinguishing the positive from the negative. If, however, the negative implies an intra- / inter- problem with regards to staffing dynamics, an anonymous method done so in a written format should be made available by a dropbox - where people are not impeded from giving their opinion - which is not to imply that an opinion can be a rumour and not 100% factual - therefore in such instances cross-referencing should be invoked. As such, private conversations with regards to giving negative feedback about how staff found it difficult to work together should be encouraged rather than in a collective debriefing session with all staff members being present, yet if the overall staff performance was seen in a negative light, everyone should be addressed as if they were accountable: even though they might not have been, yet this at least doesn’t single out individuals that provided the most negative results, since these individuals are already known to either supervisors or managers. Yet to reiterate, ensuring that stewards see both the positives and the negatives as indistinguishable, ensures that both types of feedbacks can be given - since rarely will there only be negative feedback, as in that stereotypical citation: ‘do you want to hear the good news or the bad news, first?’ Both are necessary. Another crucial way to encourage stewards to give both positive and negative feedback is to instil in them a sense of accountability and responsibility, ownership of their experiences - insisting that it is absolutely necessary for managers and supervisors to know whether or not their work environment is safe from abuse - stewards should know that, like other places of work, whether that be a supermarket or an medical centre (there are even posters insisting that abuse of staff is not permitted with such posters showing a doctor, subsequently a police officer a judge and a prison guard) - stewards should not be subjected to abuse where other areas of work do not permit abuse of staff; negative feedback must be encouraged so that preventative measures can be implemented in the future, this also ensures that stewards feel safe so that they in return can provide spectators with safety and security. (Positive feedback is therefore, merely complimentary, yet nonetheless important, as a pick-me-up).

Describe effective leadership and motivational skills

Effective leadership and motivational skills are essential in fostering a positive and productive work environment. In no particular order, since pretty much all the following skills are equally important, a supervisor should have the following qualities (in terms of leadership):
- Being a strategic thinker - someone who sets a clear direction for a team and thinks strategically about long-term goals inspires a sense of purpose and direction, aligning team efforts toward a common outcome.
- Communication proficiency - a supervisor ought to be able to communicate clearly, concisely - actively listening to team members and adapts communication styles to different team members, which enhances understanding, fosters collaboration and builds trust among team members.
- Decision-making / Problem-solving - a supervisor ought to make informed decisions, considering alternatives should they be necessary and does not have a problem addressing challenges effectively, which impacts the team by building confidence of each individual member ensuring that problems are resolved quickly, giving a team more focus to consider solving issues down the line.
- Empathy - an empathetic supervisor understands and considers the emotions of team members, demonstrating emotional intelligence, which fosters a supportive culture, strengthens relationships and showcases genuine care for the well-being of individuals.
- Delegation - the more a competent supervisor is the more effective his skill at delegating tasks for a team based on team members’ strengths and developmental needs, which in turn empowers team members, promotes skill development and optimises the overall team performance.
- Accountability - an accountable supervisor takes responsibility for outcomes, both in successes and failures since a supervisor is responsible for team members, any shortcomings are his responsibility and he / she will have to be accountable for any poor performance, this in turn builds trust and sets a positive example by encouraging a culture of accountability for all team members.
- Leading by example - a supervisor who leads by example by setting high standards of work ethic in turn models the behaviour expected from team members.
- Conflict resolution - effective supervisors should be able to address conflicts constructively, facilitating resolution and maintaining a positive team dynamic, which in turn ought to reduce tension, promote collaboration and ensures a harmonious working environment - needless to, conflicts can arise not only between staff and spectators but also between colleagues, which can be more dangerous, since a conflicting team is ineffective at the job.

In terms of motivational skills there also several key elements to employ:
- Recognition and Appreciation - recognising and appreciating individual and team achievements boosts morale, encourages a continued effort and reinforces positive behaviour.
Providing challenges - assigning challenging tasks that might stretch an individual’s capabilities stimulates personal growth and fosters a sense of achievement while also maintaining interest in the work (enthusiasm).
- Promoting autonomy - this might actually be one of the most crucial aspects of motivation - by giving team members autonomy to make decisions with their areas of responsibility boots confidence, increases job satisfaction and fosters a sense of ownership of authority and a supervisor-to-team-member sense of trust and loyalty as it provides proof that they are trusted enough to not have to be constantly reminded that they might not be doing the job correctly - that they can own their work and do not have to be nannied, rather: allowed to work by themselves and as part of a team.

Nota bene: in my experience, it is also worth noting that when I was still only a steward, some supervisors did not even take the time to learn the names of each of their staff members, this sort of depersonalisation did not win such supervisors any favours, rather it fostered resentment at being treated like an “it” - from experience I have learned that once a personal bond is established with each individual team member, that they are spoken to directly, their names are used and a confident eye-contact is present throughout - even if after a team briefing a miniature individual briefing is conducted, it fosters a closer bond that makes working with people more effective and dare I say: pleasant. This little detail, of knowing each team member’s name is crucial - after all: to anyone’s identity, since chances are spectators will not ask for a staff members’ name (and are not expected to do so), therefore spending an entire day dealing with impersonal spectators referring to staff members with the use of pronouns - addressing staff by their names fosters a shared atmosphere of being able to be address by spectators impersonally.

perhaps i could complain about my name,
but then i heard no complaints from
someone like Adam about only being endowed
with one vowel like to like
and two consonants -
i could complain about not being named Phones
or Phanes - or Phinus -
i rather imagine the two omicrons to
be like the eyes i peer through
at the iota trapped standing up in my third eye
of mind

the S to account for Asclepios
      and the N as the striding posture of Horus...
hell... modern times allowed for Lacanian
algebra... the phallus...
i have my own algebra...
i never thought i could have invented my own
algebra...
how philosophy and thought disparage...
given how much thought is not invested
in philosophy...

the Key (I) and keyhole (O)...
which returns me to the opening of keyhole
and door (Ω) through the added incision
of Ó                     how i might
turn to my twin-imaginary-self
of becoming Θανoς -
    
     by morphing the attraction of ascribing
an alpha to a theta rather than retaining
the omicron of my initial phi...

sigh: how the surd p was integrated
into      Ψ ( Υυ) upsilon...
       sigh-co-logic... (p)seudo-
                          
                            Δε(α)Θ.  (death)

if there is any confusion: A(dam), E(ve),
                                     I(sa), O(ma) and U(rus)...

well it's not confusing anymore given
the algebra of the motto of the one who uttered
i'm the Alpha and the Omega...

i must concede, for upkeeping sake...
i harvest the alpha and the beta
and the consequences of the linear projection
later jumbled up into words like
one might be an atom later a snail
later a man later a speaking higher vanguard
that's humanoid
since no longer relying on the anti-history
of Darwinism...

Ballads R-U the
nourishment
Like the Bella baby
greens
Tossing your salad like
The artwork deviant
Like the myriad

The musical chairs
Messages unique piece
Playing the brain organs
The new road of legions
Cerebellum moving
Perky pinks the possum
We move into a certain era

Intense Opera breathing, pacing, dreaming

More feeding the balance of love needing
Musical digestion
Heart rate inside
your movement shows
affection
All themes like soap operas
The nervous system musical brain
Gets damaged like the Asylum

So emotional heartbeat got more
rhythm
Your hums needing tums
The Lifes crises
But not feeling
accountable the brains works
Every function ballads of love
Inside your heart diction
Like the ballad-making
Your best transformation
Orchestrated hands to lead

The musical brain
Love letters arrive on the train
So tranquil love
physical  momentarily
Has a certain quality
like the ballad of love
mutiny

We find in life its a long sip
The brain wave long neck
          Giraffe hot cafe

We feel everyone's tragedy
Living so high
in the (Castle) the step up
Not giving up the highness the
majesty the brain depressed
But such a parody foods for
the soul no control eating binge

You want to dodge out
But you're the musical genius
Magical brain fast and furious
Is tricky to remember you have
         The talent
         To be Lucky*
Fill it with love and gravity
He's the laughing stock
of the comics

Like the simple life
He's the built-in love
a ballad with such structure
The popular form of poetry
Musical notes a blend
of symmetry
Chariots of fire the key to love

Whats truly above all we need is love
He takes your breath away
Reading into the
       "Britannica"
Archie comics and Veronica
Historical moments Cleopatra
The ballads of culture
Songs we remember
I love September the day I was born
Ballads and songs

"My Girl"
"Stop Look Listen to your heart"
"Love is all around"
You came to the right place
Peace and love, please
stick around we love you

I hope I don’t **** this one up
If I make a mistake it isn’t my fault
My credibility can be diminished by the way present things
I, the way I present things
I am afraid of publishing something someday and
******* up the end result
Someone will read it and laugh because I missed word
A word, I missed a word
****
If I am to ever mess up a final draft then
I will laugh because nothing is final except for maybe death
Maybe
Books scare me because when they are printed the work becomes permanent
And I’m not sure I want anything I create to last forever
I don’t know if anything I say will ever be kept for that long but if it is I want my mistakes to be as clear as what I am attempting to say
I am attempting to say I cannot be held accountable for everything I do wrong
People will look back and doubt that I can be trusted because I didn’t use the write form of right
Even so, I hope my errors are good enough to be remembered
I hope I can incite a cringe or two with my fallibility
I was not made to be perfectly correct in all that I do, my words can attest to that
So if I **** this up, if I make a typo,
Let’s just pretend it was on porpoise.

What if my pain showed on the outside?
What if the mental scars showed on my skin?
The emotional wounds,
The cuts and bruises.
Yellow and green,
Black and blue.
If everyone could see what you do,
Would you stop?

If everyone saw every time you made me feel worthless,
Every time I was made to compete,
Every time you ignored me,
Would you stop?
If everyone could see how you hurt me,
Would you stop?
If you were held accountable for every word,
Every action,
Every ounce of pain you've caused me,
Would you stop?

What if the evidence was right in front of your eyes?
What if you were no longer able to deny the proof?
No amount of smiles and lies can cover it now..

Here's your proof,
These words on paper,
Like ink on my skin.
Will you stop?

based on a you-tube video: milo yiannopoulos vs. hysterical feminists; 1 17 2016.

i've never hard long relationships,
the last one i had was a long long time ago,
she said: i enjoy pain -
maybe - but i did also:
i unsheathed my ***** and put on
a c-ring on my helmet:
yes, circumcision does ease
the florals of afro lips
              and you find the cut off skin
in the ******* all the more appealing
all the more necessary to fight for,
oh wait: or so you thought.
hijab blah blah: take away from man
and we're constantly in feminine mourning:
akin to Darwinism's motto:
     there's a reason for everything; everything!
and there is! that's the universal suggestion,
adapt, create a reason for such adaptation -
god in mind (without prayer and laments
at funerals or judges' commentary) -
        ha ha how about we make Poles the
scapegoats, ******?
                well: now i really feel special,
are we supposed to say: yes good lord,
aye aye sir, kiss the ******* of Brooklyn
queens?
                 but you know what's funny...
bird songs...
             birds have an aesthete -
sure, they **** me off when spring comes
and the window is open and it
starts to feel like Africa at noon (i admire
the colonial powers of England:
how did they manage all this ****** heat?!) -
i'd spend a day there and then say:
**** it, get me back to the Scandinavian
refrigerator, can't stand this, ******, heat!
look at me: piglet albino!
                some say white some say
black, some say auburn some say chocolate
some say emerald, some say copper,
  some say pink, some say piglet -
some say 'you squinting, or something?'
try: white boy does a Buddha on marijuana -
people think Buddha is ******...
****** racists...
     one Czech who travelled to Mongolia
told me a secret: the Mongolians don't like
marijuana -
                    the Czech? met him at U.C.L.,
called Jacob - oh sure, grand guy,
                     so if you suddenly interpret
Buddha as ******, get serious:
      look looky at the squint -
then on the page the cipher: renmimbi
and 100 yen -
                        tugged by a ******* yack.
****** complex but then in Latin
simplicity:
                      chow mein -
or chewed a rubber tire and hence came
locomotion: a jaw in a pickle jar,
at every cannibalistic gathering of connoisseurs;
burying my great-grandmother i was
attacked for my expression of guilt:
when the priest started his litany i started
laughing... laughing a funeral, ha!
but it's this you-tube (hyphenation does not
exist in logos - anti plural, hmm:
or to use shorthand off words, i.e. images
to convey less wording and optical adventure
on the sly: hyphen! here boy! tear these
superstitions apart: like in the medieval
period charms and spells and Merlin,
so too the Mc and the i-) -
but enough about the funeral, that video i
referenced first:
                   a throng of crows sounds more
beautiful than humanity talking over each other...
it just hit me! like a bulldozer -
      we are actually so divergent from a unifying
causality, having conquered all natural
predatory forces, that when we're actually
accountable for being collected and told to
say freely what we want, we sound so
****** disgusting - i listened to this video
until i heard that a 10 second silence was required...
        the same we give to those who passed
in war: that's the difference between Western
Europe and Eastern Europe:
the division lies with the idea of remembering:
western europe has the first world war covered,
eastern europe has the second world war covered -
hence the ****** poppy parade;
       and how could i completely integrate into
such a society? what, be fake? relinquish my
bilingual ontology and hollow out, ethnically
cleanse myself? sure, i speak the tongue:
but i treat English as rooted in all things Germanic,
given my baptismal name: Conrad - hell, what
could possibly go wrong.
          i, will, not, assimilate, into, this, *******,
culture, like, some, ******.
                end off!
it would mean: oh you're be happy here,
but forget the 8 years you spent in Poland and
developed a psyche -
i hate it when people force a soul on people
without the capacity to develop it...
  ******* freak saints with their autistic children:
if the thing in question is unresponsive
         toward developing the mere notion of a soul /
a self: why does the church implement this
****** sin against abortion? if i were an agony uncle
i'd tell the girl: think about that scene in
the film Prometheus (2012)...
       i don't get how something that can't even
create the mere idea of a soul actually have a soul...
limited instinct, sure: but a soul?
     hence Santa Clause: or where all innocent
idiots go - provided by Satan's Clause, which in
jurisprudence suggests Disney as the patriarch.
still, with so many eloquent minds about
in history and as in now,
put them together and they sound so ****** ugly:
humanity can create the abundant leaning tower
of Pisa (or let's just call it the ρoμbυs of Pisa) -
we can't recreate a congregation of sparrows' song
nor a lion's roar in a **** way: like grrr -
            what i said above?
we have the power of the atom bomb, and we
decided to champion science, but in the case of
application? we're lazy! we create these sadomasochistic
saints who never bothered to do research into
what might happen - shoot me,
       if we exclude the mere notion of god
and do as Marquis de Sade did and champion nature
(who, by the way, was actually a militant atheist)
        we can't avoid the economic barbarity of nature:
it's inherent cruelty -
                    and this is the modern curse
of outrightly censoring a certain part of human
history as if "it didn't happen".
  it did happen, no wonder i have a plot of land
near Cracow reserved for Jew snow (ashes) -
    it's almost as if to say: because the black plague
didn't happen in the region: here's the holocaust!
      and you'd think this might bring me closer
together with an Egyptian... n'ah.
       as i once said - *oni pyramidy, a my kominy
they the pyramids, we the chimneys.
            maybe the Yiddish evolved in Germany
had something against the Polish Jews?
                            maybe...
who knows...
                 civil wars are known to happen -
maybe that was a subversive version of a civil war,
given that Israel didn't exist, you could have
the Jews of Manhattan ******* at the Moscow
Jews and it all became expressed in Poland...
         they did have a saying, those Polish Jews
back when the money was there -
   nasze kamienice, wasze ulice
(our houses, your streets) -
            as my grandfather used to say:
they fought the war with the rifles bent,
shooting into the sky or into their foreheads
like any Jehovah's witness stance to war was deemed
appropriate to join the cult.
         now i can say, kinda proudly,
sure, your houses our streets -
                           nasze szubienice (our gallows):
or was the free Palestine movement slowly
dying?                  all i know that by the time
we reach 2099 - things will look drastically anti
1999 with that party culture -
      someone just decided to cut off the *******
of a great poker player - America is these days
castrato - Castrato America! Castrato America!
they blame immigration, i blame them
bribing "saint" John Paul II for ******* displacing
me...
            i lived in a city where there was
more than just football taking place: water-polo
for ****'s sake! my father played it!
             Olympic diversity: not this inbreeding
****** of sport coverage:
television, a.k.a. the box? more like a zoo cell.
             the busy market place where i was born?
just banks, no shops, just banks.
  they tell you **** on the internet isn't real:
then t.v. is desperate,
and no teenager commits suicide from a weak
grammatical membrane to invert naked words
into clothed words: red (noun) etc.
and let me add: where are the editors in this place
and are any necessary? no -
what's troubling to the west / capitalism is how
socialism has resurfaced -
          it's not called social media for nothing -
sure the model is capitalising on opinions and conversation,
but how ugly this socialism now looks;
       my grandfather? he's living in a safety net
of actually having a pension -
                   he retired more than 10 years ago,
way prior to reaching 70...
              this is Poland, the so-called "acid satellite"
states of the Soviets...
    where the **** will your old be with "sir" philip
green and the 0-hours contract?
                                                      nowhere!      
oh i would go back: had i not lived here most of
my life and built a greater capacity for the language
beyond a large majority of natives:
  oh look, here comes the Rotherham Pocahontas.

I don't need anyone to keep me company
When the Universe is with me at all times
Paying attention
Keeping me accountable
Being present
When I feel lonely inside.

The big, lonely bed, stationary in all its essence, longed for her return. It resented the man now, biting and clawing at his skin. Although he had done nothing intentional or malicious to the bed, the bed held the man accountable and punished him for it.

The bed was nothing without the man's mistress. She had lain on the bed, dressed it with color and sweetness and light. She adorned the bed with her body, her being.
At times, the mistress and the big, lonely bed seemed to meld, to become one. And this had filled the bed with life. The big, lonely bed was not lonely yet.

The man never offered any of this to the big, lonely bed. He would come home late and drunkenly pass out on the bed. He would eat his meals on the bed and pay all his attention to the TV. His crumbs would find the recesses of the bed's matting and he rarely changed the bedding. Sometimes, he would ******* on the bed without a care.

It wasn't clear if the mistress missed the bed as much as the bed missed her. Or if the mistress even missed the bed at all. The bed never spoke of it, as inanimate objects are forbidden from such things. The big, lonely bed considered greatly her long absence now but couldn't quite fittingly express its pain.

The man began enduring several sleepless nights on the bed. He was too determined to admit why. Denial was his restful tool. But the bed did wake him. The big, lonely bed scratched at his comfort. Scratched at the man's contentment and resolve. The bed kept the man awake with pain and desire and awareness. The bed was not going to let the man just “use” it. There is a price to pay for sleep and the big, lonely bed was determined to extact it.

The man tossed and turned these early, restless nights. Embattled by the bed's desperate curse, the man continues to lose precious, precious sleep. He was too self-absorbed to know he was under siege by the big, lonely bed. He tried applying pharmaceutical methods and concocted psychosomatic cures for his lack of sleep. The man began to consider himself an insomniac and openly complained to his friends about it.

The big, lonely bed's desire for the return of the man's mistress reached new levels of retribution as the bed started to manipulate its springs and padding to muddle its very own comfort and purpose. Now the man could only list one way or the other on the bed. He thought about his lost love. And his lost sleep…

The man was also losing to the big, lonely bed. He longed for the slumber he so desperately needed. Without restful peace, he began to teeter near ledges, dangerous and desolate ledges. There he quietly mumbled her name. The man sobbed as he whispered the horrors he had played victim to by the very mistress the bed adored.

The big, lonely bed listened as the man cried his tears of missed opportunities and sincere attempts with the mistress. She had treated him badly. The man's tears fell upon the bed. And the bed absorbed the man’s agony. The bed had been blinded by its own desire for her, never considering the man's love for her and his subsequent loss.

The man was broken now. Broken in his reckless actions and his desperate thoughts to relive and repair the relationship, to fix it. To fix everything, to fix himself. He was broken without sleep.

The big, lonely bed began to sympathize as the man counted the periodic struggles he weathered when confronted by his mistress's manic episodes. The man had indeed survived her bipolar tirades when she encouraged her fueled rage with doses of antidepressants mixed with long-poured ***** and tall glasses of Pinot Gris. The bed remembered these exhausting nights and recalled the punishment the man endured for simply loving her.

The bed did witness the man's suicidal flirtations and pathetic attempts to blame himself. To blame himself for all of it. If he could only share just one more night with her. One more night on his bed with her… in his bed. Talking and laughing. Loving and planning. He could fix this. With the help of his big, lonely bed, the man could fix it all.

The bed did take pity on him.
The big, lonely bed understood now. And welcomed the man that night, lonely no more.

No woman Is worth what you put me through,
Girls talk about men and the bad **** he'd do,
But that's nothing compared,
To the emotional despair,
From terrorist attacks, from a woman's lair,
****, I'd wonder why I'd care,
Sayin' it isn't fair,
Ya disappointment's perpetual and you were never there,
Should have not got ******, now my heart need repair,
And through all the pain and agony you weren't even aware,
I tried to shrug my love,
Pretend I didn't give a ****,
Hoping it didn't come back round like bad karma, ****** luck,
Hard truths,  
Cold facts, It's all through,
What's the point of part one if there's never part two?
Heart's glued,
Still trying to put back broken pieces,
It's all you,
And I'm thinkin' over thesis,
Go back to observation,
Evidence of perpetration,
Hold you accountable for all ya allegations,
It all supports my theory,
If I'm superman your kryptonite when you're near me,
I fear thee,
Cryin' when you week and weary,
Sayin' "Jared, I need a friend so please hear me"
'Cause that's the nicotine I try not to let get near me,
Askin', "Are you listening?"
Through self imposed misery  
Treatin' me like a figurine,
So I play you like a tennis team,
And make sure you get no love, back to my history!
Because you never deserved my presence,
Men try to win ya heart just a part of contestants,
Just to win a section,
Of your empty affection,
Compulsion, and expections,
Of giving that's one way in direction,
Taker Take her,
Come meet you maker,
The distance you created like the comet did the crater,
Don't ask me for no favors,
Cause i savor the flavor,
Of live with out you compared,
To a life with you despaired,
And everyday your name slips me,
Is like a little victory,
Because you name is to me,
A bad taste in my mouth, and amnesia is my listerine,
Forgetting things,
Now relationships are hard, because, of what you did to me,
Left me with scars, half dead like chivalry,
But it still lives through me,
If I ever see you again, I'll pretend, it didn't get to me,
Stop talking, and start listening,
Vapid actress,
When will you stop actin'?
You can fake love but you can't fake passion,
Vapid actress,
When will you stop actin'?
You can fake love but you can't fake passion.

Dear State Counsellor.

Once I saw you as an icon of morality.
A bastion of hope.
A ‘dancing peacock’ in a troubled world.
Some called you the ‘midwife of democracy’.
Others an ‘Oxford housewife’,
a peacock ready to show its eyes.

But now….

The Children, babies, women and men of the Rohingya
are butchered, ***** and murdered by your
soldiers as you read poetry to children.

And the rest of the world stands by waiting for
the Norwegians to take away your Nobel Peace Prize.
Another sense of justice, lost again.

The working hands of the Muslim men in Rakhine
are tied by the Buddhists, the lovers of peace.

Their guns gleaming and your army standing by.

“It wasn’t us” say the Generals
“It was the Buddhists”.

But of course we have seen this before.
At Srebrenica, Nanking, My Lai and Auschwitz,
until the gas came.

And the world stands by.
Another failure, another genocide.

Now, as your military load the death carts
and bury mothers next to their children.
The Buddhists place flowers on the mass graves.
And I call for you and your ‘men’
to be accountable for those burnt by the sun.

I tried God,
I tried to be your little boy,
Your altar boy, the tin soldier for you,
Because it was easier when life was a toy.
I have genuflected just to be patted on the head.
I do not cuss, drink, smoke, or gamble,
Aren't you proud of me God? Aren't I good?

It was not easy, becoming a nice guy.
I had to trade in words like passion and faith
For words like duty, responsibility, obligation.
Because I do not love you or your children,
No, I am obligated to them, held accountable.

God my heart feels captive and not captivating,
It feels as though it has sold out and not been purchased
With blood by your Son, the first living Man,
My destiny is one of a Pharisee and not a Savior.

But God make me wild
Because this penance has left the man in me chained
And lets the good little boy, the nice guy, wander.
But set me lose upon this world,
And I will roar as the Lion of Judah!

Let my love run rampant like a wildfire,
Let passion rush from me like a waterfall,
Because nice guys are scented candles,
And good little boys are bubbling brooks,
But your Son was a hurricane

Walk through fire with me, into the Lion's Den,
Silence the voices of kings before me,
Lead me to preach to pirates and live with lepers,
Because the heart of adventure lies in your heart,
And the battle of a lifetime is your lifetime,
And my beauty to rescue is your Bride.

Let me seek your heart and once sheltered there
I'll discover that mine was made after it.

The ways in which things fall apart.

Slowly,
like sandcastles,
and snowmen.
melting away,
in the rays of the sun,
the soft gentle waves.

Quickly,
like the way fire takes apart,
a paper plane.
one final blaze of glory.

Painfully,
like your words,
eating away all of my dreams.

Never more,
never more.

We fall into the stars.
silent and holy,
alone in the cathedral,
waiting to feel,
the presence of nothing.

That which tucks us in,
and tells us,
that the monsters,
are just illusions.

Is that what dreams are?
monsters?

In the dark,
out of reach,
intangible and fragile,
waiting to flee when the lights come on,
slipping away,
to the corners of our mind.

So what is this feeling then?
is it the presence,
of a state of heartbreak?
is it the absence,
of the dreams we shared?
does it haunt you too?

Or,
are you not afraid,
of monsters anymore?

Perhaps this is when,
we forget how to be children.

Stuck in a world,
of the finite and real.
alone and cold,
because we forgot about love,
and our dreams.

We took on their dreams.
the ones they forced down our throats.

Day after day,
year after year,
it only gets worse...

Once we lose the the bliss,
of endless possibilities.

Once we discover,
that we cannot be an astronaut.

Once we learn,
to accept our given fates.

We are lost.

Nothing can escape,
the winds of change.

Why then,
do we run?
and hide,
pulling the covers up over our head.

Why not embrace the inevitable?
open the window,
fly away,
and never come back.

We allow ourselves to be chained,
firmly to the ground.

We are responsible,
for our wont of love.
having pushed it out,
to the fringes of existence.

A hermit,
alone,
so profoundly alone.

He takes solace in his infinite wisdom,
and grace.
small comforts.

Wishing for just one companion.
one person,
to help conquer the dark.
with which,
they can brave returning to the cave.

But this other is elusive,
and cannot be found.
rather they must find,
their own way out.

That secret path,
hidden in the shadows,
along with our dreams.

Society tries,
to obscure all hope.
if we do not play along,
with this self imposed torture.
everyone will turn against us.

They are so lost,
that they cannot see,
cannot even fathom,
their poor and tortured lives.

They do not know,
why they cannot be happy.
why they cannot be free.
what being free would even mean.

To be truly free,
from that subjugating will.
which is itself a fiction.

They have created the overlord,
the one who sits atop the mountain ruling supreme.
they pay their homage to him,
dominating themselves.

We however,
cannot be dominated.
we will not allow ourselves,
that easy way out.

We alone can be held accountable.
for this pain we feel,
is of our own creation.

Our own monster,
roaming in the night.

Yet still,
the joy we know is transcendent.
freeing us,
from our own traps.

We see the overlord for what he is,
a monster,
an illusion,
a dream,
a sandcastle.

It's quite odd how the average man will not commit to run
With any issues challenging his personal smoking gun.
With issues that confound in discomfort’s naked face
Or adopt a stance of reticence when confronted here apace.
Won’t lend a ready helping hand for fear of being held
Accountable for consequence imagined or dispelled,
Distrustful of the outcome in involvement’s disrepair
Would much prefer retreat to accountability there.
A quotient disappointment to the greater human race
Are the spineless who refuse to look directly to my face.

Marshalg
9 October 2013

Reading and researching about fiction and facts.
You try to clear up our racist past.
When a black walked into a eating establishment to eat.
You ponder and wonder about those racists wrath.

What about the skin of a person that makes fools reacts?
Or those that intimidated not stand  up to wrong.
When we remain quiet we gives stupidity a home.

Then you ponder and wonder about the bigots.
Maybe, they wasn't afraid of the blacks.
But afraid of their own.
Many racists don't truly have a happy home.

When a Latino illegally or legally comes to America.
Who really believes they taking anyone job?
Many are working hard at jobs that hard working Americans avoid.

We must address our inner self.
For within our hearts lies an answer.
We all see things from a different view.

When judgment day comes.
And you must be held accountable before God.
And He ask you what wrong did you do?
Will you be truthful without offering an excuse?

Yes, you can reform your love for the people you hate.
But God requires us to do before we standing at the gate.
Cause, standing before Him now.
Just might be a little late.

But we are dealing with the human nature of the flesh.
And that alone create most of our trouble.

We live in a society that is reluctant to hold individuals accountable for their actions.

They did this to him because of his smile.
They did this to him because he was in the bar bathroom a long while.
They did this to him because of his clothing style.

The environment can create stimuli and stressors which trigger predispositions.
Predispositions of behavioral tendencies to make bad decisions.

They did this to her because they saw it on TV.
They did this to her because nothing comes for free...
or at least easy.
They did this to her because of how they were raised by mommie.

However, at the end of the day, you have ****** autonomy.
Physically responsible for your own actions,
you have damaged another human...
being.
You don't want to accept you could do something so heinous to another human's ****
or ******.

Morally responsible to actively educate,
yourself.
How to live in a world with other humans whom differ from you.
People who you may not completely understand.

She said no, but things happened so fast.
Kept go-ing on, not for long he didn't last.

He might have been interested at the start of the night,
but wasn't trying to be perceived as putting up a fight,
resisting what his assailant created, his forever tragic night.

I'm not big on the concept of 'deviant behaviors' or 'social taboos.'
Certain things however, you should know what to do.
We violate others' rights, freedoms, privileges, happiness, mental stability, and personal well being.

And For What?
It doesn't matter if you're gay, like metal music, or get drunk, because
We can't blame the color gray.  
not tomorrow nor today.
Don't sit, just stand, get up and say.
Advocate that **** is wrong every innocent second of each precious day.
more clearly defined, not merely social constructs within a particular society.

Long story short; **** is Wrong. Get and Give Consent. Be Safe as well.

You speak of salvation.

After the chaos I've caused,
  my redemptive acts

merely clear a few stones
  from the path of an avalanche.
   What sort of deity

would deign to
  sanctify me? Where is the sense
   in granting forgiveness
    when I still hold myself
      accountable?

Some say I'm too tough
Hard to comprehend
Hard to deal with
Hard to love
Some say I'm too soft
Easy to push over
Easy to manipulate
Easy to love
It is hard to explain
Easy to cave in
Just shut up
And let the others do their thing.
Think what they want
Do what they want
Hold no one accountable
For their actions.
We all mess up
We all have faults
We all have lives
After All.
But if we hold no one
Especially ourselves
Accountable
For our actions
For our reactions
For our inactions
Then how do we live?
Responsibility is a big word
And a bigger deed.
We are in this life
To learn
And teach
Every moment
Every breath
Every heartbeat.
What we get out of it
Is up to us
Alone
Individually
Subjectively.
We can do no more
Good
In this life
In this world
In this universe
Than to be the best
Student
Teacher
Partner
To everyone around us
Including ourselves
That we can be.
We must not judge
That one person's way
Is better than another
Simply that it is
A different point of view
A different way of living
A different style of loving.
The blind can get along
Without the one-eyed man
And if he thinks himself king
Because of his sight
It will only be until
The novelty of him
Has worn off.
For the blind have
Everything mapped out
Each step counted
Every object
Accounted for and memorized.
Those with sight
Move things around
Step outside the lines
Wonder what is beyond.
We can no more
Cause someone to awaken
Than we can restore
Sight to the blind
Hearing to the deaf
Voice to the mute.
Though we can offer them
New ways to explore
Their world.
Tell our tales
Without expecting
Any of it
To be heard
To be understood
To be believed.
For us to try to understand
Within ourselves
That all find out
Exactly what they need to know
When they need to know it
In ways only they can know it.
And sometimes
We are the messenger
Bearing tidings of great joy.
And sometimes
We are the lunatic
Ranting unheard on the corner.
It doesn't matter what you think
You are
Except to yourself
And you can never
Ever
Make someone see you
Any other way
Than the way that
They do.
Words
Actions
Beliefs
Are up for random
Interpretation.
And if you want to be
Unconditionally accepted
For your unique being
Then it's time to ante up
Folks
Because
Turnabout
Is Definitely
Fair Play.

[April is ****** Assault Awareness Month.]

“****** Assault Awareness Month” is *******.

For 30 days you’ll wear a teal ribbon and hold “We Believe Survivors” signs.

But
Should I thank you for 30 days of ally-ship?
No.
Did you believe me on March 31st?
No.
Will you believe me on May 1st?
No.

30 days.
You’ll scream
ALLY ALLY ALLY
Believe survivors
ALLY ALLY ALLY
Support Survivors
ALLY ALLY ALLY
Hold rapists accountable.
ALLY
Bull. ****.

Go ahead and pretend ****** assault only happens in April.
Throw out your teal ribbons on May 1st
because it’s not ****** Assault Awareness Month anymore.
You don’t have to care anymore.

But I do.
What my rapists did is something I live with
335 more days
than you’ll care about an issue.

You don’t realize the ribbons you pin your bags and shirts are
smaller
than the
bruises he left on my thighs
But
you don’t care what one survivors thinks of you
so long as the world knows that
for 30 days, you wore a teal ribbon

Your message of ally-ship
30 days a year
doesn’t erase
your hypocrisy the other
335 days.

look
at the sun
if you want to
swallow
watermelon seeds
and gum
if you so desire
step on cracks
listen to loud music
smoke
drink
cut a line
and snort
if that's your pleasure
practice unsafe ***
lie
cheat
steal
if that's within your hearts desire

but don't blame
unless you're pointing that finger
at yourself.

In her,
nature

a seed
planted by her mother
one
she wouldn’t feel
until the first
of womanhood

inside of her chest
in bloom
a well of gratefulness
a rooted inner compass
a quiet
but awakened
awareness

a feeling
to trust

but no substitute for love

but enough

enough to show her
it was possible
how sweltering heat
could be rainfall
how seasons
and time
could be here
and gone

the world
was waiting

the sun
held all aglow

accountable
to living
expected not to shy away
when she herself
was giving
"Omit outwards",
she said
"Radiate like me
attend to your senses
let wind be a tide
to rush against your skin
to rub the nape of the neck
to cool the temper of your breath
let my darling,
grass
be a place to rest
climb up
on the shoulders of trees
or just
sit beside her
and feel herstory
firm
beneath your feet
foundation
for every path
for every choice
you chose to walk

and listen
to the silence
as night begins to fall
go to sleep feeling
the day was but a dream
everything sings in you now
your heart is wild
and beating
and all the world
is a mirror
of that inner feeling
where she finds
in her,
nature
is breathing.
-
July 24th, 2013
(a poem inspired by the title of a writers group I am in. )