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Ayad Gharbawi Jan 2010
Hi;

This is not a poem.

But given the infernal catastrophe that has befallen, I just think it is time for you Americans to listen to us people living 'out there'.

Here are my thoghts, that I submit to you with respect;


HAITIAN EARTHQUAKE: A HISTORIC MOMENT FOR AMERICA TO CHANGE ITS MISSION

Ayad Gharbawi

January 19, 2010 – Damascus, Syria


The recent Haitian earthquake is unusual in that it has destroyed the entire meagre ‘infrastructure’ of a so-called nation.
In fact, this 2010 earthquake succeeded in showing the world that the so-called ‘country’ of Haiti is nothing more than another piece of estate/land/property for a select, few oligarchs.
Anyway, the US response to this ecological/environmental holocaust that has befallen upon Haiti has been unprecedented.
America, under President Barack Hussein Obama, has behaved impeccably in Haiti.
The brilliance in Obama’s aid for Haiti is successful precisely because he has avoided previous attempts by the US to help on the basis of ‘humanitarian’ grounds, when those grounds happened to also include conflicts raging within them.
Obama avoided the mistake of getting America involved in a humanitarian crises that existed within a civil war – like what happened in Lebanon (1982-83), Somalia (1991-3), Bosnia (1995), Kosovo (1999).
I write this article because I, as an outsider, wish ardently, to speak to you Americans.
Today, you Americans have the choice: either to follow the militaristic, expansionist policies of the US President, Theodore Roosevelt, or you may follow the path of the first morally-guided President of the US - Woodrow Wilson.
I urge you Americans to leave all countries where there are civil wars – such as in Iraq, Afghanistan, Yemen and so on.
Let these countries do whatever their people wish to do against each other.
Instead, allow your great arsenal of democracy to help and intervene on humanitarian missions – in countries wherein there are no civil wars – such as you have been doing so magnificently in Haiti.
Use your power, your wealth, your US Army, Air Force, and Navy to help humans who need the helping hand of succour.
I tell you, that you Americans, once you adopt this peaceful, moral foreign; policy, you shall see that your enemies will fade.
Taleban have told you repeatedly, and have repeatedly contacted to you, telling you that they are engaged in an Afghani civil war. So why do you intrude?
Al Qaeda have told you repeatedly if you leave the Middle East, then they have no quarrel with you.
Why can you Americans not accept or understand that so long as you do not invade, occupy or create military bases in foreign lands, no one, and no organization and no party and no country will see you as an enemy?
This is a moment for you Americans do finally break off from the Theodore Roosevelt Principle (TRP) which is to attack, ****, slaughter and occupy any country you think is ‘worth it’.
And, at the same time, it is also a moment in history, when you can fully embrace the Woodrow Wilson Principle (WWP) of a foreign policy that is based on morality.
What you have done and what you are doing in Haiti is a pure act of WWP.
I believe the entire Third World applauds you and loves you for what your men and women are doing for the innocent victims of Haiti.
But, then, when other men and women, scream and shriek, saying: “Look at what these Americans are doing! They ****, butcher and ****** Afghans in order to support corrupt, drug dealing gangsters such as Hamid Karzai who, themselves, cannot control and, in any case, are not interested in ‘controlling’ their own country! So what else can you think of America’s real intentions?”
And what a good emotion-fuelled question, indeed.
What are you Americans doing fighting, losing American and Afghani blood in order to basically prop up and support criminal regimes such as the Karzai regime, whose only raison d’etre is to make profits through their various ‘business’ activities?
The more you Americans fight what are perceived as unjust, colonialist wars, the more you will create terrorists. It is a never ending cycle!
I argue and I passionately believe, that you Americans can do this. If only you US statesmen and stateswomen finally decide to adopt the beautiful, clean mantle of morality in your foreign policy.
Obviously, I do not have enough space to express my ideas and reasons. So, let me be clear: I am not advocating a slavish enactment of Wilsonian principles.
For, as an example, when Iraq invaded Kuwait in 1990, the US had to make a military move, because no country can allow a sick dictator to control so much of the world’s oil. There are clear instances when aggression abroad can seriously threaten US interests. But, in truth, the vast majority of the wars you Americans entered, were unnecessary: you did not need to go beyond the Yalu in 1950 in Korea; you did not need to enter the North-South Vietnamese Civil War.
Take Kosovo: yes massacres were committed on all sides. But you did not need to bomb Serbia. First and foremost, that should and must have been a problem for European powers to solve. Secondly, Kosovo was never vital for US interests. And the fact is, Kosovo could never be a so-called ‘state’. Today, it is nothing more than a geographical area run by warlords, drug dealers and other gangsters who each carve out their own territory. Was that piece of gangster-run land worthy of killing Serbians? No!
Take North Korea: let Russian, South Korea and Japan deal with that abnormal so-called state. Why do you spend money on your troops and camps there? It is not in your interests and yes, North Korea does not threaten you Americans!
The same goes for Iraq in 2003 – you did not need to invade that country for the simple reason that Baghdad posed no threat to its neighbours, and certainly no threat to Europe or to the US.  Again, you should have let the Iraqis themselves solve whatever problems they have on their fragmented plate.
You must see and feel that US lives are not expendable for pointless and futile foreign adventures.
America should help those who have suffered environmental catastrophes and who are in a war-free zone.
America should help stable, developing nations where accountability starts from Washington and right back in – Washington.
And yes, of course, America should only use its military might if it is directly threatened by any person, nation or organization.
And to reduce this hatred that has spawned against you: I tell you, a voice from a wilderness, one mute krill from amongst billions yearning for exactly what I yearn for, I tell you: remove your military bases from Europe, Japan, South America, the Gulf, and anywhere else. These military bases are seen by people as ‘evidence’ of occupation. You do not need to keep these costly outposts. Remove them. Reduce your military presence that, in any way, has no effect, except to increase fanaticism and anger amongst your people. This is especially so in the Gulf, where your presence angers the people – leave those countries and yes, you will then reduce your costs, which is obviously beneficial to you Americans.
Instead of military compounds and bases, why not enthusiastically create consortiums of companies to build American schools, universities, hospitals, housing projects and get involved in building infrastructure projects in nations that have good accountability, so no money is wasted and so can never go, instead, straight to the pockets of the leaders.
Build the world; use your superpower might to create hope in broken nations, and that effort will, in turn, build love and you shall see, your enemies shall decrease and your military costs will decrease and your building projects will bring you greater revenues.
The choice is yours: follow a Wilsonian foreign policy or a Theodore Roosevelt foreign policy.
I hope the Haitian earthquake catastrophe has shed some light on which path US foreign policy should take.

Ayad Gharbawi
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2018
.i'm not here for the people, i'm here for the language, having observed it degenerate into modern hieroglyphics of emoji, and the acronym standard of american English... i'm here... for the language... the people? well... they're the people, and will always remain, what they always were... collateral... i can't speak for the organic product of what i am an inorganic byproduct of... why would there ever be a Hegelian dialectic to begin with? rather than a dichotomy? wasn't Kant the one to come up with a priori (thesis) and the a posteriori (antithesis) dynamism? no? then i guess i'm illiterate! must be! otherwise, how so?  i can't exactly command my a priori, given, with some "wonderful" a posteriori substitute of the global individualist! this urban Frankenstein! maybe the English speaker can... but i can't... given they allowed themselves the travesty of grammatical profanity... it's almost a shame, that the asylums closed down... when is cushioned room when you need one? oh... right... denial for the cases equivalent to jimmy salive... you attack grammar?! you attack us all... there's not qualification standards required... not all of us are required to have status as English language teachers... some of us? are just generically frustrated!

would i extinguish
cigarettes into my knuckles?

well... i was trying to
spot bone,..

but the real reason?
ha ha!

i was attempting to
count the number of eyes
on a tarantula.

not a funny joke?
i get it...
   i wasn't aiming for funny...

ever watch the grooving
bopping along,
seduced by the rhythm
bass player in a band?

you'd thin it was the drummer...
turns out?!
the intermediating
   focus....
   bass is all rhythm...
there's no such thing
as a rhythm guitar section,...

hardly any drums in
a classical music composition...
bass...
the subversive underlying
principality
of the fiasco...
the...
                          Pandemonium!

set your eyes on the bassist's groove...
pursed lips...
mm hmm ya ha...
           the *******
blood suckling artery
with not need for metaphor
presence of a band...

bass... bass... bass...;
hence the missing E i guess;
was, and always will be:
the base and bait
for listening to 20th century music...

whiskey lime & pepsi?
***** lemon & pepsi?
can't tell the difference,
both sound equally promising...

it pains me, to agitate a drummer's heart,
imitating a beat
without any drumming equipment...
bopping along, sly, shy,
and sometimes awry, fired up...
        
there were a few things i'd love
to have become,
a prof. cyclist doing the tour de france....
a vet practitioner...
    among others...
   what did i become?
a mediocre poet...
       a spewer of words
rather than their instigator...

had i ever the ability to write
pop **** jargon of
lost and wishing for awaiting loves...
i'd **** one of those
housewife harlequin novels!

alas... not to be, not to be...
     guess i tapped into Russian funk...
that Russian ex-girlfriend?
apparently she likes my writing,
she said: you should get published...
i did... little as **** did that do to
me in securing a stature of possible
fatherhood and a Tolstoy town-house
in the middle of St. Petersburg...

    i wasn't a priori to fiddle that
******* out into a castrated bull
******* an ****** with no *****
but pure muscle tension
of the phallus...

   wait... you never ****** off
as a man, prior to producing *****?
feel sorry for you...
guess the whole abortion debate
is killing you...
          you know...
  that's almost equivalent to theft...
what happens on the throne of thrones
and is dumped into a tissue?
ditto, i.e. remains there...

       thieving *****...
                  huh?!
                    **** it... do the Islamic take
on thieves...
ensure all the western men have
their ******* arms cut off...
to stop the thieving with
western culture jurisprudence
in-acting transgression
of transcending the allowance of
abortion, and...
enforcing...
                whatever the ****
fatherhood means...
when?
     a women proposes to you...
and then decides to throw away her
engagement ring, she, herself, chose...

as if... she never had the notion
of being young and being poor...
**** me! she forgot the beautiful part
of the equation!
  i liked her doughnut over-sized nose...
i loved to teasingly bite it
during *******!

      **** me... that contorted
face, Francis Bacon-esque
in the mirror doing *******?

      mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm...

look here: FULL MOON ALL OVER
MY FACE...

         there's no revenge ****
in this scenario...
                
  hey! resurrect the Bastille!
and i'll be the second Marquis de Sade
screaming the revolutionaries!
YOU FORGOT THE JUICE!
the juice?!
YEAH! THE MOLOTOV COCKTAILS!

                anarchy...

       what order is there to speak of?
when grammar is secondarily dictated,
outside of the teaching profession?
     these people are teaching me language,
or secondarily indoctrinating
me into the abuse of language -
with political bull's diarrhea?

   can't have one and the other...
   you attack grammar?
        everyone restricted to a grammatical
conventionality, will...
spank you with a naked russian saber...
   i'm not here for playing
unorthodox language games
outside of crossword puzzles
i don't entertain having the capacity
to solve...

               you play your game...
i'll play mine...
i have the integrity of the English
language at stake...
   not this post-colonialist quasi-English
*******!
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2018
. tiky torches, and not football hooligan red flares?! i want gnashing teeth.... the red worm... i want the crude.... waiting feud!

you, don't, make,
dictum, in, this,
part, of, the world!
nein!
   you, can, have,
your women!
but, not, the, ego,
of males!
*******, and your
colonialist past
rewrite!
*******...
dr. dre, ******!
so no, what becomes
musicological
click-bait?!
     ****** ****** yo **?!
  ******* term
gets... owned?!
       like vomito *****,
making reference
to the black plague?!
   you do your ****** bit,
i do mine...
and we meet in the middle...
and then...
we crash and burn...
   for whatever it's worth...
now catch me petting
rottweilers...
heavy headed
craniums...
   ready to bullwhip
a gnash of a raiding bullish
cranium head-****...
  just, gagging,
to perform,
the jaw-swapping gnash!
sure... big, bogus,
jaw dropping crude...
of a count of teeth...
   but...
    i'm itching...
itching to fasten onto a feast
    of a fist;
not in eastern europe, ******...
    you come here...
you play by our rules...
the whole
              anti-rap...
the whole
       hip hop scene of Warsaw...
   no, not really...
i'm not exactly
part of either, "scene"...
god...
  i haven't even allowed myself
to use edgy words...
    girl worth a *****...
but to succumb to motherhood?
i'm a heavy drinker,
i'm not exactly the moralizer;
wrap up, clean the ****-show...
and forget i even
managed to circumstance
a narrative.
Lawrence Hall Jan 2019
Two wideawake birds bumped into each other
On the distant island of Ascension
Said one to the other, “Excuse me, dear brother!”
And the other replied, “Don’t mention
                                                         ­                 it.”
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is:
Reactionarydrivel.blogspot.com.
It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.


Lawrence Hall’s vanity publications are available on amazon.com as Kindle and on bits of dead tree:  The Road to Magdalena, Paleo-Hippies at Work and Play, Lady with a Dead Turtle, Don’t Forget Your Shoes and Grapes, Coffee and a Dead Alligator to Go, and Dispatches from the Colonial Office.
ConnectHook Sep 2015
This would
have
many self-styled poets
who believe that
taking
an ordinary sentence and splitting it
into random segments
is poetry
up in arms!
Written by Colonialist at ConnectHook in response to :

‘A lot of people high up in poetry circles look down on rhyme and metre and think it is old-fashioned,’ said Bernard Lamb, president of the QES and an academic at Imperial College London. ‘But what is the definition of poetry? I would say, if it doesn’t have rhyme or metre, then it is not poetry, it is just prose. You can have prose that is full of imagery, but it is still prose.’

https://connecthook.wordpress.com/2015/09/15/queens-english-demands-rhyme-and-metre/
Leila May 2013
I know the true meaning of autonomy
It isn’t written in any colonialist’s decree
I’m not my farther, i'm no refugee
You’ll never see this girl living without liberty
You're more likely to find a fish in the Dead Sea
To see Palestinians get human rights like Israelis
**** with my freedom and i'll send you to eternity
I can handle anything-werewolf, banshee, or zombie
no human or his fetters can rob my soul of being free
Don’t believe it-try me
Lawrence Hall Apr 2018
Some call it somethingphobic and bellicose
Crude masculinist supremacy (by far)
Insensitive, sexist, and just plain gross –
But it’s righteously vegan – my weekly cigar!
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2018
just one song...
nothing more...

   soulfly's...

tribe...
  
             nothing more...
honestly nothing
more...

  there's nothing
to counter
with...

really...
   i'm guiding
Aztec pyramids...
to counter
the European fascination
with
the Egyptian
exposes...

  don't mind me...
i feel,
slightly bored...
like...
i feel bored,
having to wesr sunglasses,
because,
i'd prefer to see the moon,
and no star apparent...

why am i wearing sunglasses
in the night?
   i don't like seeing stars...
i prefer seeing only
the moon at night...
like i might watch the pristine sky
of azure during thje day
and only one star...
i'm sure i won't see as many moons during
the day,
as i see as many stars during the night!

you, have, a, "problem"
with me wearing sunglasses
during the night?
well...
i have a problem to boot
to counter yours...
how about you keep your
culture to your people
and let them entertain /
enjoy it...
  unless of course...
your people are tired of
entertaining / enjoying it?
maybe it's the latter...
   given?
sure as **** i'm tired of
entertaining
what this culture entertains
as a byproduct,
         mediocre;
but nonetheless requiring
to be, "respected"...
so the elite of other cultures
is to be deemed...
wait... wait...
our cultural mediocre is
to be deemed superior
of foreign culture's elitism?
really?!

          no...
sign me up for dying the death
of a pauper,
than agreeing to that
sort of *******!

i'd be a son god with my
hair coloring among
the Aztecs...
  
  but among my whittle
privy assorts,
i'd be an esteeming
social climber...

death the pauper among
the dreams of man,
as man: the hoping depth of dream,
in the reality of death...

but he, the Englishman
man, can first, dictate,
his, "rights"...
in Rochdale...
    start there...
then work your way down...
otherwise?
sh.... ut...  the... ****...
                                       up!
savvy?!

you dictate where i tell you
to dictate...
you don't tell me
what i am, and am not to do...
when you made it,
so apparent...
your women
agree to first,
notably girls...
and you... "defiantly" nod and
approve to...

                  no...
i've been told what i am
and what i am not supposed
to do or what i am supposed
to not do...

           you didn't have
this discussion with a ****
last time i heard...
           have the discussion you
had with me,
next time you... pretend to have it
with one of your former colonial
bull-whips...
                    o.k.?!

good...
well!
  apparently a former colonialists
requires
to know what a colonial power-grip
feels like...
apparently the whip has become dry...
it's almost like...
the ******* are fetish frenzied
culminating in a starving
experience!
                   even if they asked:
i wouldn't enjoy the ******* role
of a colonialist...
   i'd "enjoy" the whole affair...
as i'd weep...
   striking an animal...
   i mean... smacking a dog...
i couldn't imagine myself
hitting a dog, disciplining it...
but with regards to hitting a human?
i just might entertain sifting through
counters, equivalent to qualms.
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2016
Hello Matthew,
Sorry I missed your visit the other day; I was obviously teaching and the office staff couldn't locate me.
It is encouraging to see I am now dealing with a published writer who will hopefully tell me what the book title is without my need for research.
Glad to see you have remembered that punctuation is a linguistic colonialist, for wNt of s better term.
I picked up your books yesterday and immediately gave one copy each to two year 13 students with the simple instruction to 'read this.'
The one you kindly inscribed I have taken home and intend to read over the October half term.
How's everything going?
Mr Bunce (or to use my colloquial Glaswegian first term, Tam)
Sent from my iPhone*


Hello Thomas,

no apologies necessary, it's well understood that a teacher is always untouchable when it comes providing an aqueduct of intellectual assimilation peppered with acquisition and relative hope for pedantic (missing the plural).

The apologies are all mine, I spent the week at the Cheltenham like ****** pusher, evidently not everyone is hooked on on poetry; but I did find the deviant art form that's known as "spoken word" a blast, i dare stand-up comedy to compare itself to the antics so hushed by society.

The part where you say: dealing with a published author... well, authored: but via my own expenses. Entitlements of the book being titled so? i was trying to remember how anyone gives up a good portion of their memory to remember something like the atom R               without the English softening, without the French harking up phlegm, and the age old Victorian trill            of the rolling Baskervilles... i tried to attire Grecian optics in how every child expands his capacity for memorising language on the basin of up-keeping and use: via the need to abolish hyphenated compound words, and against dyslexia that turn English into a complexity that's German, remnants of it remaining true with e.g. hydrocarbon, or chemists punctuating: or averting from the hyphenated ease: as truth goes: chemistry in English is a standard Saxon German. A lesson in finding enough eyes in a single tongue that might make me forcefully distinguish an N that's a V that's actually ν (nu), sharpened, and υ (a              u that's capital y that's less sharpened than nu that's Y that's upsilon - and that's lowercase gamma)... I hope some form of a kaleidoscope might be revealed with this revision of Copernican East on the moon.

I have more copies you can distribute, walking from that netherworld that's bound to be tamed with the name of Romford into the A406 region.

I hope you might find the inscribed opinion kindred to your own, its authenticity is based on how serious poetry is taken in the East, the western world has solidified itself in proclaiming poetry with rap, in turn poetry has become less rhapsodic, but that aside, I hope you enjoy the end-product, it's only a snippet of my work, evidently by the fact stated, I have more.

Everything is as everything should be. My 3 years in Scotland were a dream I wish I never woke from; I could not have wished for a more welcoming convent of lessened religious ridiculousness among people: churches turned into nightclubs and chandelier shops? Well, that's the bright-sprung reality of the Scotland I remember, and from what the journalists provide, it seems the story has just begun in terms of a youthful invigoration demanding a voice: yes, away from the infamous deep-fried Mars bar. I still remember that self-deprecating joke you made about how copper wire was invented: two Scots arguing over a penny (pulling it apart).

Well, if I over-economised my reply I apologise, otherwise I hope I can enshrine your legacy further, with the motto: don't teach them grammar (the subconscious)... teach them language, or what's lessened arithmetic rubric concern, and more: authenticity - a variant word for familiarity and a tattooing on one's locality as primarily organic: given the inorganic trend of globalisation. Can I offend with an informality? I will anyway: sounds like a ****** manifesto - in the end all I wanted to reply with was: thank you.

Well, thank you, for teaching me English without necessitating a concern for a grammar consciousness / an awareness of grammar: public school ponces can have their Eton mess funfairs: language is pure, pristine, palpable, and we're allowed our own interpretation of grammar, even Nietzsche said: we only believe in god as long as we believe in grammar... as said, I can provide more copies of the book, I'm duly counting the numbers in terms of representation, given that the book is but a snippet of the Σ, I can gain as much as I have already lost, which in practical wording equates to nothing.

Kind regards, dearest Tammy (inexplicable innuendo to follow without the appropriated seasoning to match,
                            in this grand era of political hoo correct ha); or otherwise intended in the more formal
acquisition of familiars -
                                              thanks, Matthew.
wordvango Sep 2017
lauren elise  Normally I wouldn't instigate like this, but NFL players aren't simply taking a knee for the fun of it. If you want to go as far back as Normandy, let's talk about the forced migration of slaves to the United States, the colonialist division of African nations, and the pillaging and ****** that accompanied that. Let's talk about the forced separation of black families as they were sold off like livestock, the rapes of slave women, the beatings of slave men. Let's talk about the implemented indentured servitude after slavery was abolished, that kept free black people enslaved and poor because they had no resources, no money and no dignity. The lynchings and the discrimination. Let's talk about the de jure segregation that divided school districts, neighborhoods, and deprived people of color of access to equal education and job opportunities. How about the exclusion of black women from women's rights movements? They did not receive the same rights at the same time as white women. When segregation was abolished, how about the de facto segregation, the redlining, the defunding of black neighborhoods that sentenced them to poverty and disqualified them this American notion of "equal opportunity?" What about when the poverty and lack of education increased the crime and drug activity that has led to the mass criminalization of black communities? The school to prison pipeline? Think about the fact that people of color have not been legally "equal" to white people for even 100 years. The police brutality today mirrors the police brutality of the Civil Rights era. Everything that black people face on this day is a result of the dehumanization and discrimination that white people imposed on them from the start. This is not coincidental protest. This is not ungrateful. Our soldiers have fought for our rights from the start, but not always for the rights of people of color. Peaceful protest is an American right. Plus, let's not talk about disrespect for American soldiers and veterans when our very own "President" is the first person to disrespect them.
LaurenElise  well written. This needs to be seen.
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2018
/grand terms along the way... none of which require pillars of establishing a reminder...

                  genuinely
i can approach a trans-grammatical
inconvenience of a word
with a:
          -pre
                             and          suf-,
a cat the size of a fox sleeps
with you in a bed that
could allow a woman and
you begin the lost scratch
of the cranium,
with fiddling with the nasal
cartilage...

       until bone comes across
bone,
       and the sensation is no
longer equivalent to
                         ingesting helium
  and laughing like
a pubescent torah reader...

     open to discussion,
if you mind:
                     -so-,
i.e.
                ****, a hammer enigma,
nail in a post-
ending with
              ... can you think of
an english noun
that doesn't end with a pluralism?

       hmm....

                        pillows! ah, ****,
no good: pillow...
             what sort of english
noun could end with an S
and doesn't denote: a plural?

     pre bound to o-?
                   that's easy: oßmosis...
but a suf bound to an -s
           in the singularity realm of
nouns?
                     impossible...

kant is still impossible to fathom
as a trans-national...
          monkey that began speaking
scotch parrot...
          
    language as an echo-chamber,
and less a people...
         what's spoken in english:
stays within the confines of english...
even if allowed an audience
trans-genus + "neo"-lingua...

far from being jealous:
  just this...
         tiresome bridging fabric...
    like a pavement of marble,
    ending up with a chewing-gum
stuck to your sole...
            
akin to whenever teeth feel itchy:
making a toothpick necessary -
because that's precisely the case
of itchy teeth:
               that there's something
stuck in between them...

would be much easier if
we all had the Madonna central
                      incisor whistle...
or flooooote...
         whatever you might call that...
post-scriptum of
                 experiencing itchy teeth.

so...
            much of the quest of being
human revolves around space,
as it does around a personal memory...
most of the time i find myself
nibbling on the remnants,
  of the personal,
                     yet nonetheless
crushed by the moving collective,
a condescending
        congregation point
           of:
                    ceramic implants counter
to where ivory primes should protrude...

i can't see an abstract,
individualist perspective of a collectivist
left...
            without falling into
collectivist anaswer of:
            the so-called individualist,
nearing albino,
  mild-autism-of-the-comprehensive-man,
solipsist...

i actually only wrote this
because i'm waiting for my fridge
to **** out six ice-cubes...
          no joke...

   noun no metaphor but certainly
not a misnomer...

      a warm mixer?!
              feels like a hundred syringes
shoved up the nostrils
  when landing in Kenya...

   not that i did anything spectacular
concerning the equator...
  some people decided to go
on a safari...
                 i took to hunting shade,
and a brandy with a strong coffee
prior...

   how did the english manage
the ******* heat?!
                 kenya =
       coffee + brandy + shade + sleep...

and whatever subsequent blah blah blah
accomplishes.
Ignatius Hosiana Jul 2023
This war started long ago with your great grandfather,
The difference being he was fighting to stay,
For the same reason you're fighting to leave...
He was fighting for this home which no longer is,
For the gods you now call pagan, for the culture you deem fake,
And the minerals, now heavy jewels around your neck.

This war started long before anyone thought it would,
When the iron snake started wriggling from the coast,
Spreading its poison across the land, carrying modernity with it,
When they killed the protesters of Tsavo and called them man-eaters.

This war started when Kinjikitile failed to save us from the fire spitting sticks,
When nyungu ya mawe fell, when the imperialist found the trade routes.

This war started long ago when your ancestors developed a taste for salt,
And were told to give away a few of your kin to have it...

This war started with that book that you believe in,
the one that speaks about sticks turning into snakes and people walking on water.

This war started when your great grand Uncle believed and collaborated,
even long before that, when the kabaka agreed to split this land.

This war started when we accepted the names the colonialist gave,
to our lakes, our rivers, our springs and then to our children...

Yet here you are pumped up like this war has just begun...
INFINITEabyss Apr 2016
The things you seem tethered to... that connection will be lost
In the best way, itll be natural in the way it was always meant to be
Seasons will tangle and untangle into eachother like the loves that come and go in peace
Youll stop hitting that unforgiving brick wall
Cause you will no longer turn your back to change
Youll run to it, understand it accommodate it, let it do what it must do to you-  
root you further into yourself
See, you'd been seeing it all wrong, its not a colonialist, striping you, leaving you bare.    
Stand in the rain, and say amen, its beautiful its happening. so it is.
Post rain, when all the creatures sniff the air, Youll smell love coming in, go slow, stick your hand outside that window and let the sun make love to your skin, call it what it is this time. And perhaps they are the sun.  Drawing you out of the shadows, reminding you that its never too late to live the lives you always wanted to,   you can go back and forth and you will remain constant. Anchored.
Post-rain, with you the grass is greener, you are enough for everything that surrounds you, and You take no credit.
Its like. Its like. Its like
I wrote you to life
“My mind carries a pain
My skin bears a voice
I’m mad and it shows

It’s black in my soul
I’m bad, I’m insane
I’m mad and it grows

Black man with some vocals –
Black man with no arms,
Black man yes, the pain is mine, and it eats me  

Black man and there’s black in my thoughts,
So I keep screaming
Black man with heavy dreams that haunt him:

An ambition in the winter,
Flower never grow, for my seed cannot afford
Friction in the air when I’m bitter

Pay fee for my visions to come into sight, capitalism
Terrors caged in my intuition, neo-colonialist inhibitions
Give men races, take away our faces, branding

Culture punctured or am I just Insaniod?
**** the stereotype?
I try, but the Earth is stereohyped

Blame my senses? I can’t.
Too many cents owed me –
Nonsense.”
Tales Of My Madness
JP Goss Sep 2019
1.
In the minds of global leaders
$20 million is all it takes
To restore a world
Assaulted by negligence,
Grown by kneecapping the world,
All the while, spending
$1.71 trillion to ensure the worst offenders
Pay for their dreams of global dominance,
$20 million is all it takes
To undo two hundred years
Of the colonialist mentality
To aright wayward ******* of harlot empires
Who could only learn from neoliberals
In the bordello of the Western Hemisphere—
$20 million is all that it takes
To restore a world, a space far too big
For the imperial mind to encapsulate,
For they are too worried about
What is beyond space, what is in heaven
In glorious economic *******—
There is no peace, no trumpeting
Communal values under whose auspice
The world over will achieve
The neoliberal dream:
The arena, the coliseum,
Where the sword, the tariff, the trade war
Are the proper lingua franca
Of the entrepreneurial class,
Suppressing popular uprisings
Is the front-line infantry
Of the entrepreneurial class—
2.
We are the Global West
Subsumed under the rancher,
The cowboy capitalist,
On the wilds of his destiny.
He’s tried his best,
To drag the whole herd with him,
Handed enough bootstraps
To hang itself with
As it ***** up water and rest,
At such a premium in the hard desert of
The industrialist’s heart, putting a stop
To what the herd wants—
It needs to make it beyond the pass
Into the uncertain future of
Coyotes and hazards aplenty;
The only certainty is, though,
Inequities between the rancher
And his livelihood,—
But, ah! That’s what makes
The Wild, Wild, Global West
So tempting to those whose numbers have been
Decimated by it in the early years,
Its growing pains; it’s simple, really:
War makes money, suffering is
The only commodity that defies the laws
Of supply and demand,
Its value rises as we tap more wells,
More wellsprings, as it bubbles to the surface
Of every sweating, stress-sickened face
Whether migrating or on the assembly line.
Our ranches must become bigger,
More accommodating to the cattle,
And, if possible, to make ranchhands
Of our rival ranchers at any cost,
If even the only subordinate is the earth itself.
Classy J Feb 2018
Brain on a different planet didn’t even plan it, brain on a different tangent and I don’t even understand it. On a new level cause I built up to it, on a new level and I got yawl to thank for it. Bringing substance that isn’t corny but is really honest, strangling the temptress that wants me sell out and take narcotics. Like I would want to be brain dead, and if you think that I’d risk it you must be a bonehead. Classy taking out these ****** rappers that are anything but dapper, I’m not a ******* nor am i Yornica yeah I’m a native go figure. Who knew they still existed, but hey colonialist ******* tried their hardest. What is a culture when the culture has been stolen and who owns land that’s already inhabited hmm good question. Extinguished family teachings so the next couple generations lose connection and our proud identity is fleeting. Beating ourselves over it, beating others because it’s hard growing up without mothers and fathers yet people say get over it. It should be apparent that those who never had parents wouldn’t be able to parent. But apparently we should just get over it, ******* ******* for our land, race, culture and beliefs were taken away so no I can’t simply get over it. Religion seemed like a good thing because we also believed in a creator, but these supposed holy people turned out to be as evil as ******. No wonder indigenous people have a hard time with believing in a all mighty deity, who let people destroy everything we had like so much for its Devine protection and security.  But ***** it we should just get over it right, and if you say that again ***** you best get out of my sight. Get over, get over it, it’s dead and gone yet still to this day natives are on the other side of the gun. Hands up but it don’t mean much, I said hands up but it don’t mean much! Get over it, get over it, I swear I didn’t do ****, but get over it, for you just being brown means that you must’ve done it. Hands up get on the ground, got us all lined up and in chains awaiting to go to the pound.  Hands up get on the ground, but you best beware who you kick around. Everyone’s got a breaking point, and I don’t know about you but I hate being at gun point. Get over it, get over it, it ain’t worth it so stop it. Get over it, get over it, just drop it and forget it. I’m sorry but I can’t simply get over it nor will I get over it!
Lawrence Hall Jan 2023
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                                        T­he Road Not Taken – Or Was It?


                                            In Memoriam (Easter, 1915)

                   The flowers left thick at nightfall in the wood
                   This Eastertide call into mind the men,
                   Now far from home, who, with their sweethearts, should
                   Have gathered them and will do never again.

                                                     -Edward Thomas

Those of us of a certain age (cough) remember the dim, blue-ish television images of Robert Frost reciting from memory his short poem “The Gift Outright” at the inauguration of President Kennedy. Because of the wind and the glaring winter sunlight Frost could not read the poem he had written for the occasion and so made a quick save with an older one he knew by heart.

“The Gift Outright” would now be condemned as imperialist, colonialist, and all the other usual “ist” suspects if anyone read poetry at all, so it’s safe enough. Indeed, in an arc from Mexico City to Ottawa via Washington the idea of any North American carrying a book is now as unthinkable as Odysseus carrying the Winnowing Oar as directed by Tiresius.

But it was not always so. For most of history literature was poetry; prose was for recording facts and shopping lists. When you read through what is dismissed as Victorian parlour poetry you can see that although the sentiments are often mawkish the technical skills of ordinary people in their letters and notebooks are also very highly developed.

The First World War created such a crisis of culture and a failure of hope that although well-written work continued for a generation as a sort of existential  brenschluss, poetry after Frost is often little more than self-pitying, self-referential free verse that connects only with whether or not the writer’s feelings have been hurt today or if he (the pronoun is gender-neutral) has had a satisfactory bowel movement lately.

In 1912-1915 Robert Frost’s metaphorical road took him to England where he hoped to develop a career as a poet. He became great friends with the successful travel writer, Edward Thomas, who encouraged him and made some useful introductions that indeed began making Frost famous.

Frost admired Thomas’ descriptive travel essays and encouraged him to render some of his work as verse.

In 1915 Frost returned to America and Thomas remained in England undecided as to whether to follow Frost and continue his career in the U.S.A. or, at 36, to join the British Army.  When Frost published “The Road Not Taken,” Thomas, thinking the poem a criticism of his well-known indecision in most matters, enlisted, and was killed in action in 1917.

Indeed, the poem may have been nothing more than a little joke based on the fact that Frost and Thomas, who loved hiking, often really did argue about what trail or road they should take.

As for “The Road Not Taken,” it is very much alive and the subject of badly-written undergraduate essays beginning with the ever-useless, “In my opinion…”

An acquaintance reminds me that even a very young reader understands “The Road Not Taken” on levels, but that an older reader, looking back upon the decisions he has made in life, truly feels it.

Most of the poems of Frost are as fresh and relevant now as they were in the last century, and worth a re-read without the unholy inquisition of some tiresome English teacher asking you what a line means when it’s darned obvious what the line means.

Just don’t read in public; people will stare at you.

-30-
COLLECTED POEMS, Edward Thomas, (Penguin)
Lawrence Hall Jan 2023
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Logosophiamag.c­om
Hellopoetry.com
Fellowshipandfairydust.com

                  ­    Corporal Karamazov Flies Home from the War

                                           “Which war?”

                            “Your war – there’s always a war.”

Every young reader sees Alyosha in himself
A sensitive mystic, misunderstood by most
Questing for an answer to a question unasked
Politely shown the door by Father Zosima

As Old Karamazov? Impossible
53 is an age of antiquity
As Dimitri, Ivan, and Smerdyakov?
They are unable to sort out themselves

Lost in thought in a contract airline seat:

A 22-year-old just two days off the line
A patriarchal colonialist ideologue
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2018
not being funny...

but what is
      the single exmaple

of q lazzarus':
          goodbye horses,

not being equivalent to
                               the smiths':
                          oeuvre?

ah...
       the example of
                         where it was used,
    in a plagiarism of
the tragedy of the life of
                                          ed gein?

which was the fuel for much
of 20th century
     music and film?

forget attempts to change
the world:
  i'm here to make an account,

given i wasn't born ****-naked
in the last remains of
earth before people take
to mars exploration...
   "seriously"...

  itching a hand-gesture
of attempting to elongate my
****** hair...
  like being fidgety with a
nose about to sneeze...

    whatever remains of
the european spirit of the wind...
in music,
   and has been replaced
by the afrtican drum spirit...
      
     europe, air,
   africa, earth,
             c'mon!
   what are the reamining band
members of the greek elemental?!
water: who's that?
    what is fluid?
  ah! thai boy georges!
                 asia is water!

         fire... who's that?!
of the people almost extinct...
    apachí....
                 wavering candle
           in the dim of night...
sioux minus the banshees + the pixies...

ah ha ha...
   now we're talking
the mad-boys of nuclear winter
newcastle and manchester,
  running ****-naked in
what remains of avenues of
essex...

            and they went to
the moon to make resolutions
of clarifying the telescope...
and came back...
   bewildered by the natives of
the amazon having escaped
the colonialist history...

         god: the scortching effect!
ouch!

         i'm literally not here,
no social project, no asylum policy
could, or would house me...

          but i'm in love with
the current faking of:
the circus that is actually taking place...
and it's not even remotely
attempting to be hidden!

           one q lazzarus song...
and suddenly the smiths oeuvre
disappears...
            under the dead weight
    of attempting to make sheep weep.
The list is endless
Colonialist
delegation list
Same list
different criminals
in the memory bank of a jellyfish:
that little microcosm of life
per se

this undisturbed avenue in evolution
kindness
electric pulse
in aqua

light travelling in no stretch
of posit
an origin E = MC (speed of light cubed,
speed of light cubed
speed of light cubed
as static, posit,
speed of light cubed,
evidently this implies
the other two letters being changed
but if there's an equation with
the speed of light squared
then there must be an equation
with the speed of light cubed...
if there isn't: or there never will be
an equation with a:    "E=M"C³

        regardless of ENERGY and MASS
but there has to be an equation
with a C³... the speed of light cubed...
if there isn't one
i'll call it yet another Dead End of Darwinism:
then clearly our intellect has
no evolved to compete
with the Insect Lady and her Talking Mushroom
Lamp...
or the Dinosaur grandiosity
brought down to lizard and bird continuity
it's as if there was no meteorite
just the ******* madness of the moo! moo!
moooooooon and seas and tides!

lost the plot of emoji and "forgot"
to place it on canvas:

thinking aloud painting
that's what poetry is
i need those symbols

like the Star of David and the *******
those drool assigns
i have

             tick tock... tick tock:
  
    卍 (tilt: // to the side: clock! clock! twist!)
because i need a reference for:
     Schläfli symbol...
                   a hexagram is not the star of david
a hexagram is not the star of david
tilt the star of david and i'll show you
a hexagram:
an opened book
and reading on a square of camel hind
in a desert
wish there were stones in a desert
and mountains
but poor me thought the deserts
were missing hills so raised mountains
blindly following love
and all purpose throughout meaning
of this shared earth: hearth...

                    at least one H in the equation
if seriously:
all these Jews want to remain post-genocidal
insecure about what's no longer
mysterious then we can flood
Europe with as much post-colonial hangovers:

but i swear: the downer comes
with: but i am stronger and of more prided
intellect than others
and for no fault of my own
am i to tell my father: hey! you!
yes! you! colonialist!
*******! **** the right: off!

         obviously the war in Ukraine
is not of the English persuasion of concern
those lax dods and sods of the "intellectual"
class not kings
not the privy council the lazy liberal ****-whats
i mean those newspaper folk
those scribblers and cobbler-wannabes
i mean those bunch of people
how mammalian flesh alight in the heat of
an argument...

smoked a joint that's marijuana
and tobacco
drank a shy whiskey sharpshooter
that's 2:1
of whiskey to coca coca
cola the ancient Indians of Paraguay
are talking
about La Bambino Bamba

in an "alternative" reality there is a journalistic
script that says:
the Euros 2024 did happen
and i saw a populism in motion
in nothing like an echo chamber
can't make the Coliseum into an Internet
Meme Echo Chamber
have to be real bro: shitz hyphen and *****
twitch at the ***** erotica of
a volcano

in an age where homosexuality is
as the supposed degeneracy of cis fibric
frombosis: phrombosis: thrombosis:

F: Fulvark: hawk: bee: buddha:
fly...
the German police were imploring
the English fans to smoke a joint
rather than drink too much beer
hey! mate! license or no t.v.
your superstars only won
a sly / shy

victory over the moon and the mood
of the Serbs:
like the victors France against
the AXIS power of the Eastern *****
and i believe
that Nietzsche a German
was adamant about what the Germans
did to the Prussians
and what the "elsewhere" didn't do
about the Estonians and the Finns
and the Lithuanians

just saying: France superstar also won
a minor victory just
a one nil
against the Eastern *****:
the Austrians are the only people
known to the Slavic people west of the Oder
and i implore you to not justify
that Darwinism has dead ends
if this supposed fixation on evolution
and then the geniuses that brought
down Pluto
i can't contest intellectual prowess to keep
feeling less and less amazed
less and less and less in awe
i just think about bread
oh and dough
and yeast
and i think: i think that i think, i think...
my soul is shattered
i have no internal breath of a coherent narrative
the German police implored the English
football fans to not altricate: articulate
the budding Serb hunger for violence
this amazing South *****
of Yugoslavia
and big boy language: i have a hairy chest...

POWER IS BLACK
POWER IS THEN GRAVITY OF NOTHING
yes, not the: that's not a misspelling
but a continuation in CApital:
power is that a drawing nearness of death
prior: impediment

in the memory bank of jellyfish:
bells of eternity - a dream of a song
of actually enjoying music
like some telekinetic hypothesis of an itchy brain
whereby a Mushroom donning a Venetian
Carnival Mask
is playing me primitive... "tunes"...
the jellyfish and perhaps our organic history
stretches into the dinosaur realm
of existence
that felt because HAD endoskeletons
but the dinosaurs didn't die
but evolved into miniatures of birds
and great hawks
and our mammal father the WHALE

but as i was smoking and drinking
an unlikely companion:
i never thought flies to be nocturnal insects
but there's always one
super-freak Beelzebub Bob and my pierced
ego my pride like a flickering light
a honing of an idea to another idea

but even if this earth once entertained
giant insects
and talking mushrooms
mammals and reptiles are pretty good
for extending our consciousness
i'm talking pre Bible imagination
much further
from Dinosaurs
that became birds
Holiest of All the Crows of Odin
and the Swans of Athena...

there was a time of giant insects
and giant insect brains
or rather the microcosm organic history
a history of body
not of stone

then i wandered outside the garden of Eden
into the Land of Ende (no, not Ened)
there's already the Den of Ned the Flander
in some Simpson
O what dark day i imagined
myself with a child watching Sunday afternoon
t.v. not able to trip out
with a scribble with a doodle not hallucinogenics
please
this ardent father

so i wish to become

so in a time of fervent homosexual pride
me loving a single mum of 55
no better *** than menopausal love
no seriously just watched how people
ugh: flake under the puppet skeleton
some flesh of 16 year old ******* proofs of
*** that are girls:

with enough perspective of time
i can speak concerning being:
there are just too many dead ends in the theory
of evolution!
you can't see the evolution of a spider
into a over-spider of an ant...
i must have brought in at least five this week
walking through the garden
they hitchhiked on my ears
into a death surface reality of moon
walking on a toothbrush and a sink
not Schindler's bread and butter emanel:
Immanuel Immanaeul:
You'll...             You'll...        and You'll Do This...

a serpent uncurled from around
the tree of knowledge
and having given birth to the fruit
in an insomnia of winding
and travelling from start to star
wriggled forward in time
ate Sisyphus
and started to clutter with a Hieroglyphs and
Chisel:

but those talking mushrooms
and giant insects would leave no traces
except for the moisture in the air
not like dinosaurs and pressed hard
black olive oil of locomotion
but instead
from such a harsh environment
with salt for water in the seas
these creatures left us
breathable air!
Nitrogen in abundance
but only enough sanity for 20% of air...

pre-dinosaur times...
   if we're going as far back as beginning
the universe...
religion can't compete, unless:
it get's a psychedelic booster JAB...
a language usage imprint
of said USER working with AI...

but if we are really going that far back:
i can look away from
belittling humanity as the currency
of NOW:
there is a currency of NOW: realistic interaction
there's the currency of ONCE:
there's the currency of IF
and the currency of...

       evidently too much Joyce... just thinking:
maybe aloud...
but certainly tripping on alcohol and marijuna
and before i die
and i'm at the stage of two hydro-cells on the brain
like Martin's like two watery
eyes
then i will create an advent of mushroom
tripping
and open my other 2 and 4
of seeing
since the eyes are an *****
unthinkable before kidney failure
or to think of eyes
are nostrils because there are 2
to think of the mouth as eyes: sensationally...
preposterous...

     ugh... but before the Dinosaurs
there were the talking mushroom overlords
and insect people
who left no skeleton proof
because they had mush inside and strength
outside
         so just the moisture in the eye
and time capsules messages
they left us hallucinogenic mushrooms
to travel back in time
past the eons of admiring those unlucky sods
the reptiles that weren't given slack
like Satan
because from dinosaurs to birds
couldn't devolve from short T-Rex hands
big mumma FI thyes thyme black girl running
so the bible is a word
from the reptiles via the mammals to
the insects and talking mushrooms
we got hit by a meteor!

           those ape mummies are toiletry
such idiots
chaos ensues no natural set order
this will not continue i'm sure of it
how warm the intellect
but what if lizard people had a chance
to boil water in a kettle... too!
but we are just their locomotive juice
to ******* UBER their groceries
from 100 meters away!

there are dead ends in Darwinism
just to clarify
thanks for collecting all the species
but let's put the Lament Configuration
back together:
these are: dead ends... don't you think?
will an ant evolve into a super ant?
will man evolve into a superman?
will humanity ever congregate at a major
sporting event as a count
of individuals or as a disintegration
of rigid formula that might disqualify
an ethnocentric identification process:
of evolutionary scrutiny
of not seeing the details in bedtime stories
something to scare the children with?

dead ends: static: evolution is not exactly
dynamic:
it's a Dead Science...
biology is as much a study of stones
in the miasma of mountain
but still minerals in the blood
and the pulling and pushing apart: toward
a together...

happiest so: alone...
regressing: so my love is bad but two
men and a third by himself
crossdressing to X his mother
and that's mammalian grip is
insufferable
but if history begins with volcanoes
and Dinosaurs
maybe i don't want to think about
a shortcut via the Sumerians
because: apart from the Egyptian
phonetic encoding
sharing Europe with Africans
is like: calling the Neighbors of the Continent:
Slavs the stupid Inquisitors of Communism
of Yiddish Intellect
not Hebrew not Israeli
maybe the Bilingual Monstrosities of the Yids
had to be stamped out
for the raising of Israel...
maybe? don't you think?

well it would certainly help some
countries to get on the Bilingual Ladder
like it would be great
for America to become a Bilingual Nation
a grander Switzerland
a bigger Canada
a marriage of Spanish and English
would only cement a superpower
while we could have a marriage
of the Slavs with the Germans
since the French and Especially the English
have outright rejected the Germans
at least the Austrians could soften the blow
and i could too...

my my how i love using such big words
relating to people
but mind you i was hypervigilant
on the point of paranoia
at the Champions League Final
talking to German Secret Police
at Wembley...

and that's a true story
i was also outside the one talking to youths
when the cordon on Spanish Steps
was put on by the bettered
coordination of Police with Security
Staff...
the soft police can you imagine
a police officer writing a poem,
would anyone read it?
perhaps thinking about the Club of Fetishes -
some time to relax
but i just want vanilla and juicy
and plump of plumb...

that's my girl: right there...
and like a ******* at a gay pride parade
let me do my:
Uncle Paradiso:
          Sam Smith'oh Unholy:
in the vinyl store i just heard: BAHBYHLON:

mommy don't know...
yeah: i was at the "£ body shop £"
paid £130 for giving a 20 year old
Romanian ******* a massage
after she was spanked to a glitter of blueberry
on the *** with rough love rough love
lion love i am the crab: pick up
soft spoons soft metal

happy to ******* a priest...
happy to ******* a priest...
happy to make a priest a Hashem: Kosher: Halal...
happy to make a priest a kosher
ooze: then some SALT!

salz salz! and the piper of pepper!
salz salz! and the piper of pepper!
South Africa has 2 grave
on going criminal cases
One committed against us by
european colonialist and the one
our "liberators" are commiting
against us since 1994.
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                       Polysyllabic Aspirational Bourgeois Vanity
                                           (and, like, stuff)

Surrealism

A melting clock is not aesthetically pleasing
Nor is it of any utility
It celebrates chaos instead of life
And bullies us with a manifesto

Surrealism

Gives pale aesthetes topics for their idle hours
Surrendering imagination to cliches’
The endlessly self-referential I, I, me, me
(Another double-latte, if you please)

Surrealism

The republican’s derivative art is but
The emperor’s new clothes turned inside out


(And have you seen my serial takes on Greek ikons re-imagined and re-envisioned as diatomic forms through vegan egg-tempera on recycled barn wood as a repudiation of hidebound colonialist oppressivist occupationist Orthodoxy by sequencing monks on Mount Athos as agnostic Jewish fast-food workers influenced by the works of Dali and the Rapallo poets through a motif of running wedges in asymmetric lines from a cosmopolitan image of Heaven to a day-glow Wal-Mart beside a sea of transcendental bubbles which symbolize my feelings when my latest grant was canceled? Hmmmmmmm? Of course the straights don’t get it; their lack of imagination is why they stopped The People’s funding I deserve so that I can make great art chiding them for being dullard capitalist mechanicals. I take all major credit cards for my works.)

— The End —