Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Julian Apr 2020
Floating above the rifts of apperception I glaze over the gaudy faucets of imagined vector thrusts in hibernation by the lucubration of space-time materialized crystal in the somber beats of fetched farrago of choice slices in delicate hums of hemmed balance rantipole only in ethereal importance but otherwise supersolid above the sprauncy vagrancy of dilettantism. We shout a clarion virtuosity so that the conclamation of neovitalism conjures upon a spell of lapse and regress a motive for further crystallization of epidemiology into harmony with syndicated admonition sleek in design and parceled into renown by feats of completion rather than slugabed gregarious fountains of wasted ingenuity bleeding from the vacuum of an empty hearth in a hospitable dwelling otherwise cleared of imperfection. Right now, I levitate with transcendence with an approximated eidetic memory that is the surgical vibrancy of renewal rather than the chameleons of hidden talents buried by the walls of Jericho sounding tocsins of alarm that the anointed favor of choice destruction is only an encircled rapture of rhapsodies of confluence found in axiomatic truths ribbed with the futtocks of seaworthy but cauponate recidivism into the donnybrooks of apocryphal revelation preceding the whimsical fall of cascading permanence just as gravity so ordained it. We breathe the life of the ethereal numinous spirit of isangelous repute because we navigate the exquisite cobweb of reconciliation to surpass all understanding in peace what would be a miscegenated carcass of war otherwise apart from the incidental apartheid of the drones of causality ignoring the antecedent reality too much to register fathomed streaks of preventive endeavor because of the scars of a scrappy schlep of the rampicks of ecbolic servitude to moth-eaten star-crossed lovers of the mean menagerie of gutless succor renowned only in tepid rejections of harbingers bequeathed in succession but ignored because of the procession of “Billie Jean” politics.

   The citadel aflame with controversy buttresses carnality by witless contaminants of hidebound scaldabancos of ineffable destitution so craven in eisoptrophobia for their hypostasized indolent fatuousness of capitulation that they are but a minor punctuation in the largesse of centuries to favor audacity in candor over the prevarications of catastrophe to dented human pride against humane dictates of theodicy in fatalism that predestination experimented with its own vaulted verve to find permanent solutions engraved in the agrapha of time to solidify the redintegrated truth of God’s divine stewardship above the quisquilous deism of former regnant centuries of blench and blandishment. We revolt at the specter of rot only when the effluvia of disgust elevates the visceral reality above the utilitarianism of recycled prim nuisances of noisome lineage that yet balk because they are bereft of attention but not a vacant talent and therefore should the subsidies of man surpass the ignorance of appearances he will shrug of the demur of the scrimshank and sharpen his scrivello in the service of redemption found through cultivated prowess of gardens beneath where rivers flow above a cubic centurion of embattled visages of the heavens becoming the rampart for the vestigial clarity of Secret Masters to foresee the bypass that heals decadence and rebukes the formalism of puritan endeavor to sweat with exhaustive patience over the gossamer intertesselations of a ripe reality rather than a groveled fragmentary world shattered too much by exigent metanoia to mount the crenellated catchpole of vigilant enmity towards the stew of listlessness found in epigone and farce more than in organic fortunes. We flip the upheaval of society to squander our proportionate degrees of wealth on the necessity created by dire quandary which enamors by interrogations of pulchritude the verisimilitude of participle ivory dalliance of etched canvasses of simultagnosia for the librations of the liberated rings of betrothed liberation despite profound lurches of the mistetches of ignorance presiding dismally over the hulked disdain of glamborge rather than resselenque.

     The winter is a poor porcine glut of ciconine swelters because the prickly obtuse recoil of the delopes of caution find their permeable balance with a sort of photographic photosynthesis that braves the dearth of reprieve for the reprisal of nostalgic deeds found in the docimasy of riveted reflections because the preordination of God is the superlative champion of the witeless grandeval protectorate of infinite concepts guarded from the parvanimity even of the most strident minds squabbling over the braseros and battues of history as though those funereal stains of lachrymose regret outweigh the traditions of vaunted human progress because they are finicky about importunate pleas of subsidiary injustice rather than fulminations of the modern rebuttal to the disclaimers of an uneven history that shepherds the doubts of nihilism into ripe fruition at the expense of very expensive moral rot for the codlings of urbacity and mendaciloquence used to foment that tribalism of totemic justice. We see in Penuel the wrestling match of specters and heroic giants documented on the ageless pages and we notice the ironic twinges of struggle that kneaded the propriety of gentilian privilege that ultimately fostered an insurrection against chosen bravado among those that sear with zeal beyond the yordim afflictions of yobbery because the Jewish heart is stronger than any calamity even if it departs from the reverence of the colporteurs of the integrated syncretism of the attempted monolith that beseeches polyphiloprogenitive growth in mindset rather than in testy abeyance of forbearance because of known scrutinies into the tropology of wilted facts remanded by curious historicity that crumples without disdain when we memorialize the erasure of scepsis by modern standards of thaumaturgy.

    The minauderies of growth are a repositioned tacit allegiance to the untold fanfare and hearsay immunized against the broach of facetious levity to buoy discordant hearts above fumatoriums of relentless ignorance because coherent masterwork can be cobbled without such lapidary toil and toll on sincere affectations of wizened brevity. The seismic precautions for the forefathers of incidental convergences between expectancy and crystallized history are an ironic intortion of priorities because the heralds and tribunes matched the peerless foresight with the gerrymandered figments of apartheid between the imaginary and the real so that the delicate synchrony of events could unfurl a riveting carapace from the shells of protection even in amiable squalor for its impenitent attrition on the volleys of sensible rumor becoming fashioned in covert bedazzled errors in judgment leading to the triumph of the eventual civilization over the futtocks of the burial of the former trekleador of zenkidu belonging to provincial cadasters found so tucked in the hedges that discernment of frikmag would be an indelible scourge on the biognosy of the diagnosed endeavors that elapsed into remediated circumstances that brave the depths of deontological violation for the breadth of apportioned loaves and two swanky fish earning a place among the miracles of transcendent liberation from articles of decree imperious by sardonic disdain becoming nullified by the histrionics of a delicately staged orchestra that cements human achievement.

       We relish the frescades of a ruffled autumnal reminder of flourish above pothers of the screed of admonition swamped by nostalgic backtracks in the séance with ultimatum of design and the impregnated and carnal lusts of a world pitched in darkness with guarded lambent lights fomenting a perjury against tact for the deliverance of freedom in tacit agreement with owleries that every bonanza be tithed in their favor regardless of hibernation of spoilsports or their subsidiary remarks on indelible quills of invented manufactured realities we crave with desperation rather than cower from in requited nescience urging us to depart from affairs and stagnate the loyalty of fealty above the limber of utility mobilized above levities for solemn remarks and rejoinders. Promulgated above the robotic rubble of staffage haywire in wiredrawn contemplative resonance of tremulous subterfuge vestigial but immediate to the yardsticks of reprehensible malarkey, is the barnstorm for erratic dimples sauntered by the saunas of shelter above the chaos of ruined ginnels for the gimcracks of auxiliary duty to service, is the glorification of the sultry intimations of legions of remonstrance in guarded decorum about sunken atrocities lapsed in memorial to the incumbent brunt of sockdolagers of justice returning revenants from the bridewell of historical internment. The symphily of orchestras to cineaste symposiasts of surquedry in impudence beyond the brays of betrayal is the aborning mythos of regimented perceptions of a world that when magnified by minutiae appears starkly contrast to the gapped gubbertushed reality of the average patron of the arts to such an extreme gulf of receptive understanding that the qualia are dovetailed only in the swink of careful kisswonks to certify certitude itself when all the fragments coalesce into subjoined harmony to the substructures of inherent conscientiousness. The miracles at work that are vesicles and vessels for the swage of imprint above the loyalty of the imprinted tribunes of the fluminous is how hidden protrusions can emerge so victorious over popularized glazes on the pastures of a farmed culture itching for timmynoggies of innovation but only finding the etched remarks of pristine imagos of heroism dwindling in motivation to surpass the imaginative leaps accustomed to a newfangled laziness that bedazzles the guzzle of crowds but not the discrimination of the crowded morass of incompletion found in mosaics missing enigmatic philters of intoxicated love for the profound. So to be intermediary as a custodian for artistry we must cozen the wheedled imaginations not of the relic but the archaeologist that discovered the embedded prisms of attentive scrutiny for glinting sunshine inherent in troves of surpassed excellence beyond parochial sympatric blandishment of donnism rather than a resselenque that floats above demeanor to usher the cosseted age of treasure above the glib brocards and florews of past success.

      Immanent to the provisions of God as decreed from a syncretic reconnaissance of the pitiable gulfs that separate boundless divine love from the clavigerous potential for scrappy sympatric affiliation to **** through the barnstorms of internal comestions of conflated priorities we are ourselves prismatic in the indulgence of a tasty life sprinkled with zest rather than tempered with the vengeance of retorted animosity that we knead the pottery of ironclad resistance to a metallic conduit of pruned fulminations of unguided intuition so that the natural accord supersedes the goad of materialism for the sustenance of antiquity beyond its heyday for vital gains against the tauricide of panic and frenzy. The linchpin of all realistic attempts at the sympatric symphily of civilization is a guided remorse through the torment of affliction that sizzles without anteric barbs as it measures through engrenage how to pilot the vehicles of prosperity through the minefields of contingency that invisibly bequeath new hurdles and inestimable obstacles that collude surreptitiously to fulminate measured controversy against the backbites of restrained equipoise created by polities of the macadamized fabric of a welded smithy of a universe that with ubiquity proclaims above the senseless the harvest of conjugal repartee in sensible pride against militant bastions of incidental prejudice for a careen against the flyndresques of danger and the flyndrigs of glaikery alike for a humane spurt of enlightenment to tower peerlessly in supervision of entelechy created by esemplastic unity in apolaustic purpose. We cannot be puritans engaged in a pilgrimage to a palimpsest of priggishness because the daring elements of adventurism are necessary ingredients to catalyze the supply-chain of the innate gluttony of ego-seeking endless balance with a natural sustained biognosy that prizes biocentric harmony above bibliognost scepsis so that the enthused can flock with liberty divorced from libertinism. The ultimatum is a war between hedonism wed with donnism against eumoirety and self-restraint and this battle will be waged on the indolence of a future of cordslave tethers to interrogation of privy conceptualism hamshackled by the gradgrinds into the neat nexility of precise conformity that blacklists the samizdat because the genizah profoundly twists the already jumbled jengadangle and provides a junediggle of procession and ceremony rather than pomp without substantial grit embedded in the showmanship of a reality in need of a fourth-wall.

        It is ironic how we bewrayed our stewardship of the planet as a plenipotentiary sentience waged against the vesicles of instinct but more fundamental to this tattered but pregnant psalm is that the stronghold of our future is the tenacity of filial duty to enthrone the household with husbandry and restraint as an emolument to divine justice that sparkles opalescent in its own redacted notions of gravity imperfect in the taradiddles of science but refined by the eclat of the combustible syncopation of a reiterative trope of realism combined with surrealist caprice to henpeck affectionate violation above inviolable screeds of blood sport rather than conjugal affections afforded to the brood and the feast of the flocks that rein supreme over all things but exert inclement justice over the cattle and chattel of civilization itself. The minkumpf against the sacrilege of a prioritized kosher is to abhor the suffering rather than embrace the penitence of perceived but specious sacrifice which is an ornery thorn on the stained conscience of the yobbery of both the apikoros and the obedient because to attenuate all suffering even of instinctual beings we anneal our hearts to a glorified compassion that supersedes the relegated relics of pushful genuflection by succedaneum of sacrifice waged against the docile whangams of otiose theodicy. The filibusters against the regnant complexity of regalia that is a sprauncy poivrade with terpsichorean flairs to transmute the intimations of hibernated perfidy into finicky transmissions for the riometers that accord orbific merit in a lackluster time enchant the rollicking audience of this auditorium of the prevenance of the conquered universe bracing for the camorra of the insipid entreaty of defalcated casuistry—the prominent exchequer in hoodwinked political agitprop that forges ironclad allegiances to flimsy facades of the verisimilitude of dignity with recalcitrant but incondite bruits of venom militant against secular apostasy—that the fitful arrivistes that swim in dire dearth will be welcomed into the reconciliation of all time with a tempered lurid glint of revelation bounded by sunken albatross of hype unbounded with a peace insurmountable in prestige rewarded only with the highest reservations.


    On 3-1-2020 when I penned my philosophy—even at a slowpoke margin of crafty precision above rapid empirical faucets of folly—I was entirely selfsame with the autotelic engravings of the smoldering aboriginal talents within that many can swing through by tenacity for enormous plaudit but a flagrant majority will apprehend with flippant scollardical tenets of rebuke and remain honest in their appraisal only in meek resignation of parvanimity.
Consider the postulates of rarefaction whittled into a vehement zeal against the prostitution of our species to the anteric cycles of residual molds of dingy spectacle mired by the tyrannical towers of supercilious squirms of revamped novelty rather than enhanced by the freebooters of dirigisme that borrow from time the behest of philandered flairs divorced from the cadges of secular instinct and enthroned by the qualms of engineered virtuosity that is stark, barren but peerless in its outstretched clamor for luxuriant sprees against the silentium of grandeval asylum incurred by the flippant filigrees of recalcitrant modernism endangered by the irredentism of the future upon the whimsy of the present-minded momentary glare of rapture.  This impending architecture of nimble but subservient endeavor is a pinprick rejoinder against the wernaggles of prepossessed fountains of configured animosity against the stapled heed of a modality of trayned invictive invectives against the plodding course of fustilugianation that swerves in apathy of autopilot junediggle to emanate the surrender of epigone to the raktendure of the synaesthesis of the attuned perception of all superimposed minutiae delegated by calculated design into a synclastic focus on veiled caprice that is vaulted above the choppy and sketchy verdure of remiss perception to stellar continuities rather than mundane knickpoints of stodged blurs that magnify syncretic qualia into baseline congruity rather than staid torpefied resignation of the visage of thunder without the pangs of the widely vituperated lightning that bequeaths all certain notions but flouts the tortious saboteurs of the prim trucage of brittle fundamentalism.

     As the flawed paragon of a picaresque youth punctuated by vibrant plumage of self-wrought tropophilous usucaption of remote groomed frontiers of desolate luxury but buoyant morale into the ballasts of a nimble usufruct that hikkles yet still against still-framed thilloire--fatuous in endearment only to the polity of the waterdrip of craven but gravid disingenuous flickers of lambent cloaks of perfidy—that earned its birthright by meditative fruition rather than prodigal tallespin of indolent frapplanks of a vicarious personage rather than an autotelic haecceity showcases the folly of heterodyne inclinations meeting an impasse of accidental dislodgement. The interregnum between the spurts and sprees of luxuriance is a staid pause between continuities of afforded parlance becoming stapled demographic solidarity affixed to a strident gallop of effortful pushes against the tenacity of the slumberous wicked hibernation of vetust magpiety without hieratical internment because youthful industry beats hackneyed bludgeons of wiseacres of a stilted manufacture of steamy nostalgia for lickerish moments that dignify but undermine moral virtues but splash anointed and sometimes disjointed favor upon the congeners to a rabid escapade of a heedless love frowning on the girdles of the prim balderdash of heralded jolts dim on levity and puffed with elusive contextualized control of libidinous serrated defilement because the crotaline **** outmantles the sweedled limber of exploitable folly. The cosseted reality of wheedled gourmands of continuous perception rather than the Gaussian blur of the protean invention of stitches in time that obscure rather than magnify the supernal levity inherent to most artistry is a linchpin of lenient gravitas that levies the lavaderos of ripe perception into annealment.
Excuse the bravado of the gait of winnowed forks in a bronteum for heralds of megaloscopy fastened to the macroscian reality of indelible filigrees of countermanded controversy becoming its best behest in the sempiternal flowering of burgeoned demonstration rather than illustrious overhang of drab slabs of manufacture rather than organism that should be interposed between the constellated concepts of both apperception and the aggrieved counselors to obtuse obsessions that are an improper tutelary for a designated reprisal of the once profane now immediately gratified by ramshackle tenets of a guarded sublimation of the tenets of post-modernism into a sustained force of the internalized tabernacle of haecceity shepherded into exuberance by the manumission of spirit from the ******* of purblind scalds of defamation that incurs the penalty of flippant privation. The refuge the Lord provides is not contingent upon the vagaries of deliberation nor the calculus of oversight but the remontant amaranthine glower of a listed deed becoming an eternal reminder that a dismantled and disjointed world fathoming only remorse rather than the trudge of gentility against the headwinds of brunt asperity will always flout the successor rather than atone for the failure of the imponent condition that constellates around rudimentary drivel grubbing the momentary out of avarice for allotted merchandise rather than glommed magnets to amoeba sentiments for the kisswonk of ulterior motive beyond dungeons of desperation that lurk ghoulishly with spectral frights at the disfigurement of morale created by errors askew rather than a contagion of righteous valor.

   Ask the heedful servant if the captaincy of reneged commitment owes homage to dutiful instruction or whether it is a balking corpse of necrosis accorded to the omphalism of brutish carnal repose in times of sedentary silt siphoned in spelunked rijuice for preordination is a predominant specter for a world scared scurrilous and skittish in a diatribe against the very notion of tribal screeds embedded in the sedimentary heft of traditionalism above the pother of vacillation commended to the apikoros but counterfeit fiat system of a ruddy governance without a supreme magistrate. Now lets venture into the territory of visagists as we envision the swanky subversion of impoverished and nebbich visions of oligochrome that fixates on belabored but dead notions of rigid propriety and levitate above those concerns with a querulous transcendence that never wernaggles about the profaned irrelevance of burlesque tropes of sidereal friction but instead memorializes the thermolysis of permeable endeavor above staid countenances of imposture that lurk in the shadowy penumbra of the connivance of persona above the archetype of the tutelary guardian spirit that through windlass and sometimes deliberation affixes nobility to even the pedestrian in order to assize its proper proportions to granular ironies expounded into megalography transformative by the very rivets of its supersensible existence and cohabitation with histrinkage among human taboos.

   The handiwork of a permeable race prone to exacerbated proclamations of prerogatives bulldozed by the rapid percolation of insoluble quandaries to the gripes of the feast of foofaraw sometimes shelters our otherwise regnant concern about the plenipotentiary God that observes all latent affairs without the paramours that conflate vivid carnality with appeased luxury and superimposes a crafty system of seismic shifts in rantipole dances with numinous flux rather than dissipated militant suppression of the fracklings of dissolute pollution which swirk in their dastardly desperado endeavors to corral the entire monoliths that guard each province into a winnowed rumble of rubble by tarnish of Tyre rather than by the upstart rejoinders of Canaan. Every creature which has the capacity to perceive language is afforded benedictions by the overhailing force of the hypaethral heights of superlative ingenuity founded in the bolted speculation of the endearment of all to tropological seesaws embattled against the hearsay of nyejays that contaminates the telmatology of the ecosystem of revivalism rather than buries the leaden debts of the disjointed revenants of past prominence into recycled irrelevance for posterity rather than for anything but a machination of a clockwork apple rigged for a rotten worm to swindle the sweet delicate tempests of unforeseen disaster to perjuries against financial solidarity.

The spinsters of sardonic drollery underscore the imminence of an incondite cutthroat collapse blackguarded by the hucksters of incontinence grubbing every fetched noisome notion and congealing a bonnyclabber of desiccated mildew that proves vestigial when the victors of time earn their joyous serenade to the pinnacle of the totem of jaundice slits in wavy endeavors for the participles of sejungible syntax of the ephorized furor to outlast the draksteng of droned dereliction manned by half-baked spies of ulterior recitals for imprinted vicissitude in supremacy in synquest for frizzlounges rather than the pedestrian circulatory system of careworn polity. We vaporize the petty hatred of sympatric regelation that neuters the virulence of motivated impediments to the draconian surge of asperity that sinks temporal haplessness as a regaled blasphemy that crowns only the ringed betrothal to spumid serrated halts in slick superstition that is a buggery to the idea of insectivores devouring the erratic chantage of germane germs that pauperize rather than even blind the deafened to be a crutch to vehicular homicide. Melismatic sennet is a dirigible of immense herculean sinew without the traces of vestibulary retches of kisswonked grisly tepid intimidations of eccedentesiasts by the radioglare of wizened corrugations in thanatism that exhort the avatars of narquiddity over the natural departure of revenant souls back to their temporary hostility to crass lifeless decarnate immediacy that slinks with foibles magnified by vertiginous heights of scollardical reputes rigged by the rijuice of the plackiques of meaningless spoils for swashbuckler bonanza borrowed from serrated vengeance exacted in prominence to provide false avenues of extenuation to malefaction that is confidant to the panopticon of exemplary dimples meager in the largesse of the composite realism of a sizable imprint on megalography that outlasts impertinent excuses for dangerous trout swimming against the mobilized selachostomous frizz of sharks gathering to avenge disclosure with insolence and gravid atrocity of incisive surgical evisceration of attempted depositions that falter by innumerable facets of countenance that belie ultimate realism and the perdurable construction of a sturdy hive of bibliognost revelry.

     Even with the blaring sennet of majesty inundating my piecemeal perception with the marstions of flarium that is an efficacy in a flaccid world of otiose pretenses limpid only in folly but contraplex in ironic skewbald skerries of grubbed destination that is the terminus of karezza despite the maledictions of vehement guarded betrayals that conjure up lurid noisome virility against the gamines and gallywows that populate interstellar fictions of virtu rather than mundane pragmatica that astound with the resselenque of contaminated skeumorphs of latent fracture belonging to a skeletonized ossified reification of farce above historicity in seemly seamless countenance with overwrought princely stature deserving integrity to ripples through sparkling opalescence. The vapid insularity of the self-contained mythos of appeased groundlings is based on the rhizic and rhizogenic fracklings destitute in predicative flares to swelter above stratospheres of the illimitable into the dwelling of the highest serenity inherent to the pacification of truth to neglect its egregious errors of mistetches of a ripened pachyderm of bravery in times of austerity and now a reclaimed notion of sempiternal charades swimming above the punitive draksteng of dranger that is enlarged by acclimated attempts at foiled raltention hikkling against its own superior forces of galvanized preterition to elide over screwball insanity of derangement in this virtual paradise of inhabited souls belonging to former times congregating on the pasture of the evanescence of now for all eternity having the optative condition of incarnation above the ferules of the stagnant brevity of oversight in heavenly realms by postulate but not confirmed by regal logic.

     The troponder of the flickered lambent niceties of polity is a countenance that piggybacks on simpered jostles of negligent engrenage to appease sworn enmities among beatific havens for certitude swarmed by the fisticuffs of darbied bridewells of desiccated drainage traversing the distant disdain for the gravel of cemented slits of stilted pragmatica that is a gavel of atrocious estoppel mediated by heroic heresiarchs against pitiable betrayal for forceful remedies in acclimated servitude to the groans and groaks of a life of remorse and dearth rather than the glut of luxuriance in forbearance to its own intorted mirrored ironies that etch infinity with every scrawled rejoinder to austere ploys of checkered rumbles of threat and exigency posed by the clairvoyant hypocrites who benefit greatly by the design of the omphalism above the frays and brays of corporate dogmatism slowly outmoded by vibrant plumages of heteronormative originality beyond petty chantage. A hesitation overcomes the bluster of bravado as the restive earnest concerns of tribulation beset the minauderies of divine affection to reaffirm the teachings of the Gospel so that future generations genuflect beneath the altar of the ultimate stroke of sociogenesis and the blood ransom of suffering that promoted the human latitude and liberty against incarcerated throngs of virtue over caesaraproprism accorded to genuflection beneath denarii rather than absolution by tether to the eternal vine of sensation of the supersensible entelechy of all valiant insurrections against defective polities and renewed policies.

     We thus seek a transdimensional bridge between the morphean virtu of rudimentary alchemy of propitiation divulged by leverage and the teeming rambunctiousness of fiduciary tribes to the ultimate duty of man to consummate the future of eternity even in slowpoke mannerisms that sidle through rigors of entelechy and assize the masterwork of tutelage above the circumforaneous entrenchment of glut above the mastery of the subtle subaudition that beleaguers an adept conflagration of harnessed human ignorance staid in the incarceration of exotic virtues of freewheeling sapience never vulnerary to hospitable concerns that entrenches the verisimilitude of a refracted justice to reign over the stultification of a primitivism inherent to man and not man alone.
Used some neologisms
ESSAYS ON
LEADERSHIP FRONTIERS OF AFRICAN LITERATURE
By
Alexander   k   Opicho




Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya; aopicho@yahoo.com)

TABLE OF CONTENTS
Contents                                                                                                                Page
TABAN MAKITIYONG RENEKET LO LIYONG AND PREFECTURE OF AFRICAN LITERATURE 4
THE CURRENT EAST AFRICA IS NOT A LITERARY DESERT 27
AFRICAN WRITERS HAVE CULTURAL RIGHTS TO FORMULATE AND CREATE ENGLISH WORDS 31
LIKE PUSHKIN, AFRICAN WRITERS MUST CREATE THEIR OWN PROFFESSION OF LITERATURE 35
THERE IS POWER IN THE NAME ‘ALEXANDER’ 40
KENYAN COURTS AND PARLIAMENT ARE BETRAYERS OF HUMANE GOVERNANCE 47
AFRO-CHRISTIAN RESPONSE TO RADICAL LITERATURE IS GOOD AND SWAGGERISH 50
YUNUS’S SOCIAL BANKING IS A GOOD BENCHCMARK FOR THIRD WORLD ENTREPRENEURS 54
HEROISM IS NOT GREATNESS BUT HUMILITY IN SERVICE TO HUMANITY 57
KENYAN STUDENTS; YOUR MOBILE INTERNET CULTURE IS ANTI- ACADEMICS 61
WHAT IS THE MAGIC IN THE WORD ‘DRINKARD’ OF AMOS TUTUOLA 63
SOCIETIES IN AFRICA HAVE TO MENTOR BUT NOT CONDEMN THE LIKES OF JULIUS MALEMA 66
AMERICA WILL NOT WIN THE WAR ON GLOBAL TERRORISM 69
AFRICA CAN OVERCOME A MENACE OF **** IN EVERY 30 MINUTES 71
COMPARATIVE ROLES OF AFRICAN-BRAZILIAN LITERATURE IN THE POLITICS OF RACIAL AND GENDER DEMOCRACY 76
NEO-COLONIALISM IS NOT THE MAIN VICE TO THE GAMBIAN POLITICS 85
RELATIVE MEDIA OBJECTIVITY IS ACHIEVEABLE IN AFRICA AGAINST POWER CULTURE AND TYRANNIES OF TASTE 89
READING CULTURE IS GOOD FOR BOTH THE POOR AND THE RICH 96
VIOLENT DEATH IS THE BANE OF AFRICAN WRITERS AND ARTISTS 100
AFRICAN WRITTERS AND ARTISTS MUST ASPIRE BEYOND A NOBEL PRIZE 104
WHAT ARE CULTURAL RIGHTS OF AFRICAN ENGLISH SPEAKERS? 109
WHY IMPRISONMENT OF WRITERS CONTRIBUTED MOST TO AFRICAN LITERATURE 113
DORIS LESSING: A FEMINIST, POET, NOVELIST, WHITE-AFRICANIST AND NOBELITE UN-TIMELY PASSES ON 121
Amilcar Cabral: Beacon of revolutionary literature and social democracy 127
How the State of Israel is brutally dealing with African refugees 131
Historical glimpses of language dilemma in Afro-Arabic literature 146
THIS YEAR 2013; IS THE YEAR OF GREAT DEATHS 153
AFRICAN LITERATURE WITHOUT POETRY IS LIKE LOVE WITHOUT VAGINAL *** 156



















PROLOGOMENA
BARRACK OBAMA READS MOBY ****
Barrack Obama is reading Moby ****
American president is reading Moby ****
Ja-kogello is reading Moby ****
Ja-siaya is reading Moby ****
Ja-merica is reading Moby ****
Jadello is reading Moby ****
Ja-buonji is reading Moby ****
His lovely Oeuvre of Melville Herman
And what are you reading?

Barrack Obama is reading Moby ****
Because untimely death took his father
Barrack Obama is reading Moby ****
Because untimely death took his mother
Barrack Obama is reading Moby ****
Because untimely death to his brother
Barrack Obama is reading Moby ****
Because untimely death took the grannies
His lovely Oeuvre of Melville Herman  
And what are you reading?

Barrack Obama is reading Moby ****
Baba Michelle is reading Moby ****
Baba Sasha is reading Moby ****
Baba Malia is reading Moby ****
Baba nya-dhin is reading Moby ****
Sarah’s sire is reading Moby ****
Ja-sharia is reading Moby ****
The ****** is reading Moby ****
His lovely Oeuvre of Melville Herman
And what are you reading?

Barrack Obama is reading Moby ****
Because here ekes audacity of hope
Barrack Obama is reading Moby ****
Because here ekes dreams of fathers
Barrack Obama is reading Moby ****
Because here ekes yes we can
Barrack Obama is reading Moby ****
Because here ekes American dream
His lovely Oeuvre of Melville Herman
And what are you readings?

Barrack Obama is reading Moby ****
Because American president is like whale hunting
Barrack Obama is reading Moby ****
Because Obama is a money making animal
Barrack Obama is reading Moby ****
Because hunting Osama is whale riding
Barrack Obama is reading Moby ****
Because hunting Gaddaffi is whale riding
Barrack Obama is reading Moby ****
Because coming to Kenya is whale riding
Barrack Obama is reading Moby ****
Because Guantanamo prison is a bay of whales
Barrack Obama is reading Moby ****
Because Snowden is a Russian whale
Because launching drones is whale riding
His lovely Oeuvre of Melville Herman
And what are you reading, Moby ****?














CHAPTER ONE
TABAN MAKITIYONG RENEKET LO LIYONG AND PREFECTURE OF AFRICAN LITERATURE

I am writing this article from Kenya on this day of 23 September 2013 when the Al shabab, an Arabo-Islamic arm of the global terrorist group the Al gaeda have lynched siege on the shopping mall in Nairobi known as the West Gate where an average of forty people have been killed and a hundreds are held hostage. The media is full of horrendous and terrifying images. They have made me to hate this day. I hate terrorism, I hate American foreign policy on Arabs, I hate philosophy behind formation of the state of Israel and I equally hate religious fundamentalism. Also on this date, all the media and public talks in Kenya are full of intellectual and literary tearing of one Kenyan by another plus a retort in the equal measure as a result of the ripples in the African literature pool whose epicenter is the Professor Taban Lo Liyong .He is an epicenter because he had initially decried literary mediocrity among the African scholars and University professors, Wherein under the same juncture he also quipped that Kenya’s doyen of literature Ngugi wa Thiong’o never deserved a Nobel prize. Liyong’s stand has provoked intellectual reasons and offalities to fly like fireworks in the East African literary atmosphere among which the most glittering is Chris Wanjala’s contrasting position that; who made Liyong the prefect and ombudsman of African literature? This calls for answers. Both good answers and controversial responses. Digging deeper into the flesh of literature as often displayed by Lo Liyong.
Liyong is not a fresher in the realm of literary witticism. He is a seasoned hand .Especially when contributions of Liyong to east African literary journal during his student days in the fifties of the last century during which he declared east Africa a literary desert. In addition to his fantastic titles; Another ****** Dead and The Un-even Rips of Frantz Fanon, Professor Taban Lo Liyong also humorously called Amos Tutuola the son of Zinjathropus, what a farcical literary joke? I also want to appreciate this Liyong’s artfulness of language in this capacity and identify him in a literary sense as Taban Matiyong Lo   Liyong the son of Eshu. He is an ideological and literature descended of the great West African Eshu. Eshu the god of trouble which was dramatized by Obutunde Ijimere in the imprisonment of Obadala and also recounted by Achebe in the classical essays; Morning Yet of Creation Day. I call him Eshu because of his intellectual and literary ability to trigger the East and West Africans into active altercation of literary, cultural and political exchanges every other time he visits these regions. Whether in Lagos, Accra or Nairobi.
Now, in relation to Ngugi and intellectual quality of Kenyan University literature professors was Liyong right or wrong?  Does Liyong’s stand-point on Ngugi’s incompetence for Nobel recognition and mediocrity in literary scholarship among Kenyan Universities hold water. Are Liyong’s accusations of East Africa in these perspectives factually watertight and devoid of a fallacy of self-aggrandizement to African literary prefecture as Professor Chris Wanjala laments. Active literary involvement by anyone would obviously uncover that ;It is not Liyong Alone who has this intellectual bent towards East Africa, any literary common sense can easily ask a question that; Does Ngugi’s literary work really deserve or merit for Nobel recognition or not ? The answers are both yes and no. There are very many of those in Kenya who will readily cow from the debate to say yes. Like especially the community of alumni of the University of Nairobi who were Ngugi’s students in the department of English in which Ngugi was a Faculty during the mid of the last century. Also the general Kenyan masses who have been conditioned by warped political culture which always and obviously confine the Kenyan poor into a cocoonery of chauvinistic thought that Ngugi should or must win because he is one of us or Obama must win because he is one of us or Kemboi must win because he is the son of the Kenyan soil. These must also be the emotional tid-bits upon which the Kenyan Media has been based to be catapulted into Publicity feat that Ngugi will win the Nobel Prize without reporting to the same Kenyan populace the actual truths about other likely winners in the quarters from the overseas. I am in that Kenyan school thought comprising of those who genuinely argue that Ngugi’s literary work does not befit, nor merit, nor deserve recognition of Nobel Prize for literature. This position is eked on global status of the Nobel Prize in relation to Ngugi’s Kikuyu literary and writing philosophy. It is a universal truth that any and all prizes are awarded on the basis of Particular efforts displayed with peculiarity. Nobel Prize for literature is similarly awarded in recognition of unique literary effort displayed by the winner. It is not an exception when it comes to the question of formidability in a particular effort. However, the most basic literary virtue to be displayed as an overture of the writer is conversion of theory into practice. This was called by Karl Marx, Hegel, Antonio Gramsci and Paulo Freire, especially in Freire’s  pedagogy of the oppressed as praxis.History of literature and politics in their respective homogenous and comparative capacities has it that ;There has been eminent level of praxis by previous Nobelites.Right away from Rabitranathe Tagore to Wole Soyinka, From Dorriss Lessing to Wangari Mathai.Similar to JM Coatze ,Gao Tziaping,Alexander Vasleyvitch Solzhenystisn and Baraka Obama.This ideological stand of praxis is the one that made Alfred Nobel himself to to stick to his gun of intellectual  values and deny Leo Tolstoy the prize in 1907 because there was no clear connection between rudimentary Tolstoy in the nihilism and Feasible Tolstoy in the possible manner  of the times .In a similar stretch Ngugi wa Thiongo’s literary works and his ideological choices are full of ideological theory but devoid of ideological praxis. Evidence for justification in relation to this position is found back in the 70’s and 80’s of the last century, When Ngugi was an active communist theoretician of Kenya. His stature as a Kenyan communist ideologue could only get a parallel in the likes of Leon Trotsky and Gramsci. This ideological stature was displayed in Ngugi’s adoration of the North Korean communism under the auspice of the Korean leader Kim Yun Sung. This is so bare when you read Ngugi’s writers in politics, a communist pamphlet he published with the African red family. By that time this pamphlet was treated equally as Mao tse Tung’s collected works by the Kenya government which means that they were both illegal publications and if in any case you were found with them you would obviously serve nine months in prison. And of course when the late Brigadier Augustine Odongo was found with them he was jailed for nine months at Kodhiak maximum prison in Kisumu ,Kenya .O.K, the story of Odongo is preserved for another day. But remember that, this was Ngugi only at his rudimentary stage. But when Ngugi got an opportunity to get an ideological asylum, he did not go to Russia, nor East Germany, Nor Tanzania, nor China but instead he went to the USA , a country whose ideological civilization is in sharp contradiction with communism; a religion which Ngugi proffessess.In relation to this choices of Ngugi one can easily share with me these reflections; is one intellectually  honest if he argues that he is a socialist revolutionary when his or her employer is an American institution like the university of California in Irvine ?
Ngugi was not the only endangered communist ideologue of the time. There were also several others. Both in Kenya and without Kenya. They were the likes of; Raila Odinga, George Moset Anyona, ***** Mutunga and very many others from Kenya. But in Africa some to be mentioned were Walter Rodney, Yoweri Museven,Isa Shivji,Jacob Tzuma ,Robert Mugabe and others. The difference between Ngugi and all of these socialist contemporaries of him is that; Ngugi went to America and began accumulating private property just like any other capitalist. But these others remained in Africa both in freedom and detention to ensure that powers of political darkness which had bedeviled Africa during the last century must go. And indeed the powers somehow went. Raila has  been in Kenya most of the times,Anyona died in Kenya while in the struggle for second liberation of Kenyan people from the devilish fangs of Moi’s dark reign of terror and tyrany.Walter Rodney worked in Tanzania at Dare salaam University where he wrote his land mark book; How Europe underdeveloped Africa. Later on he went back to his country of birth in Africa, Guyana where he was assassinated while in the revolutionary struggle for political good of the Guyanese people. Yoweri Museven practically implemented socialism by fighting politics of sham and nonsense out of Uganda of which as per today Uganda is somehow admirable. Isa Shivji has ever remained in Dare salaam University, inspite of poverty. He is now the chair of Mwalimu Julius Nyerere school of Pan African studies. Jacob Tsuma and Robert Mugabe they are current presidents of South Africa and Zimbabwe respectively. The gist of this reference to African socialist revolutionaries as contemporaries to Ngugi wa Thiong’o is that a socialist revolutionary must and should not run away from the oppressor in to a zone of comfort. But instead must remain and relentlessly fight, just like in the words of Fidel Castro; fight and die in the battle field as long as it is a struggle against the enemy of the revolution. This view by Castro is pertinent as it’s a Revolutionary praxis which actually is redolent of practice of an ideology that has to be held for ever above ideological cosmentics.Ngugi scores badly on this. So if the Nobel academy looks at Ngugi in terms of defending human rights then it must be reminded that Ngugi have no marks on the same because he only ran away from the practical struggle. Anyway, Politics and ideology has its own fate. But let us now come back to literature. Ngugi and his books. As at  this time of writing this essay  Ngugi has published the following works; Weep not Child, The River Between, A Grain of Wheat, Black Hermit, Petals of Blood, Devils on the Cross,Matigari,Homecoming,Decolonizing the Mind, Writers in Politics, Ngugi Detained, Pen Points and Gun Points, Wizard of the Crow,Globalectics,Remeembering Africa, Dreams in Times of War and I Will Marry When I Want as well as the Trial of Dedan Kimathi which he wrote along with Micere Githae Mugo.Out of this list the only works with literary depth that call for intellectualized attention are ;A Grain of wheat, Wizard of the crow and Globalectics. The Grain of wheat is simply a post colonial reflection of Kenyan politics. Its themes, plot, lessons and entire synechedoche is also found in Wole Soyinka’s Season of Anomie as well as Achebe’s Anthills of the savannah. My argument dove-tails with those of Liyong’s stand that rewarding Ngugi’s Grain of wheat and forgetting Achebe’s Anthills of the Savannah and A man of the people would be a literary ceremony devoid of literary justice. Wizard of the Crow is indeed a magnum opus. I am ready to call it Ngugi’s oeuv
Matt Feb 2015
1 million Afghans and 15,000 Soviet conscripts died
Fought with American guns

Foreign nations had tried for centuries to conquer Afghanistan
In the 1970's it became a focus for the superpowers

To Moscow, a friendly Afghanistan was important

Afghanistan's new leader looked to the Soviet Union for support
The Soviet Union sent advisors to advance socialism

Land was taken from large owners
And handed to the peasants who worked it

Women were encouraged to stop wearing veils
And were put into literacy classes with men

The reforms were seen to threaten ancient customs
And the authority of the Mullahs

The Mullah says,
"God has decided who is rich and who is poor,
It can't be changed by communists."

Opponents of the reforms
Burned down schools and universities
Resistant grew throughout the country

Iranians joined in
Calling for a Jihad
Against the communists

The U.S. thought
That the Soviets might use the Afghan crisis
To move south
And seize the oil of the Persian Gulf

Meanwhile the Shah of Iran was overthrown
The U.S. lost its most important ally in the region
The U.S. considered the possibility of a Soviet controlled Iran

Carter sent the Mujahideen equipment,
Mostly communication equipment
They were mostly peasants

Recruits for the Jihad walked for days
Across the mountains to reach the fighting

Soviet trained Afghan army
Thousands of men deserted
Kabul requested Soviet troops

Afghan president met with Soviet leader

The Soviets feared the spread of Islamic fundamentalism
Into Afghanistan from Iran
The Soviets felt they had to send troops to stabilize the region
Moscow hoped they could complete their mission in weeks

Moscow had Amin assassinated
They didn't like him talking with the Americans

At the United Nations
The invasion of the Soviet Union was condemned

The Soviets began with large sweeps
Their approach was a disaster
Mujahideen remained in the villages
Guerilla fighters remained in the mountains

Reagan stepped up aid to the Mujahideen

The Mujahideen were spilt along tribal lines
They sometimes fought each other

A war fought with our gold
And their blood
According to CIA man

The U.S. viewed the conflict in Afghanistan as an internal
Cold War struggle
The U.S. provided assistance to anti-Soviet forces
Through the Pakistani intelligent services

The Red Army changed tactics
And took to the air
Soviet commandos
Dropped in by helicopters

Soviet aircraft bombing indiscriminantly
Village after village pummeled into oblivion
Then overrun by Soviet troops
The village men who refused to join the Afghan army were murdered

Thousands of civilians killed in Soviet atrocities

The mujahideen attacked Soviet convoys
2,000 Soviets died each year
The war seemed pointless to the Soviet soldiers

The mujahideen favored sabotage operations and assassinations
The Stinger missiles were effective for them as well

Reagan said,
"To watch the courageous Afghan freedom fighters
Battle modern arsenals with simple hand-held weapons is an inspiration to those who love freedom."

The war lasted almost a decade
The early foundations of al-Qaeda
Were allegedly built on relationships
And weaponry that came from billions
Of dollars in U.S. support for the Mujahideen

Scholars have argued that Bin laden was outside
Of CIA eyesight
And that there is no support for the claim
That the CIA funded Bin Laden
www.youtube.com/watch?v=D3m95FosmTw
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Soviet_war_in_Afghanistan
Big Virge Nov 2014
As the BNP has seemingly, been swept aside
by the rise of the EDL & now UKIP, in England

This piece, that I wrote, some years ago,
still holds weight, as the immigrant debate
is now, still being used for political games ...

Same bullchit,
just some different names and faces
and .... NOT JUST IN ... The UK ... !!!

LISTEN ... LiISTEN ... !!!
" Middle Class " ... England ... !!!

Come On Now ... !!!

It's NOT ... immigrants ...
Bringing England ... down ... !!!

It's ...
Your Own ... Government ...
That's Causing ... FROWNS ... !!!

Charles Clarke's ... A Clown ... !!!

He's been ... found out ...

His Home Office Crew ...
Haven't Got ... " A Clue " ... ?!?
where ... Immigrants are ...
from ... " Foreign Grounds " ...
who now ... walk around ...
Right ... next to you ...

So ... Of Course ...
The ... " Working Class " ...
are in an ... " Angry Mood " ... !!!

and now ... are singing
the same ol' tune ...

"Get the immigrants out !
They're stealing our jobs !
and are nothing more,
than slobs who rob !"

Well ... for some ...
That's ... TRUE ... !!!

There is ... NO DOUBT ... !!!

but let's ... talk about ...
Those ... " Wearing Gowns " ...
and those who ... RUN ...
Your ... English Towns ...
whilst ... Robbing People ...
of their ... " Pounds " ... !!! ...

and  ... What about those ... ?
who ... Sit and Smile ...
whilst employing some to teach ...
who they knew were ...." Paedophiles " .... !!!!!

"But, its' the immigrants
who are ****** worthless !"

"Well, I suggest,
you watch ministers, more !
and immigrants less !
Unless of course, they're Americans
like Condoleeza and George !"

Then ....
Instead of fighting wars
on ... foreign shores ...

Helping George to ... " Hoard " ...
for his ... " Monetary Frauds " ...
So His Friends ... can hold ... MORE ... !!!

The Home Office could ... ENSURE ...
that immigrants who are ... KNOWN ...
to break ... SERIOUS LAWS ... !!! ...
are shown ... The Door ...
that's marked ... DEPORT ... !!!!!

The Labour Party ... CLEARLY ...
has got some ... flaws ... !!! ...
from ... Inept MP's ...
in the ... " Commons " ...
to the ..... " Lords " .....

Whose HYPOCRISY ...
SHOULDN'T BE ... ignored ... !!!!!

Like those who say ...

"Crime figures are down !"

with proof that's ... SHODDY ... !!!
and a body like ..... NODDY ...... !!!
and a pair of ... " BIG EARS " ... !!!

Yes i'm back to that ... " Clown " ... !!!
who in effect ... has said ...

He will ...

" Stop terrorism
on our hallowed ground !!! "

Please excuse ...
My ... " Skepticism " ... !!!

But ...
when letting immigrants ...
with ... " SERIOUS CONVICTIONS " ...
walk away from ... " Extradition " ...
and .... " Prison Supervision " .... ?!? ...

Mr. Clarke would seem to be ...
a man of ... CONTRADICTIONS ... !!!

So ...
"COME ON NOW PEOPLE" ...
........... LISTEN ...........

It's really ...
NOT ... My Mission ... !!!
to make you sign petitions ...

But ...
CERTAIN ... " Resignations " ...
would help the population ...
REJECT ... their thoughts of ... HATRED ... !!!!!

So ... " Come On Now !!! " ...
The Government is ... " FOUL " ... !!!!!
and should ... " Throw In " ...
The ... " Proverbial Towel " ... !!! ...

and take up ... New Positions ...
WELL AWAY ......... from public vision .... !!!!!!!!!

because ....
Their Brand of ... government ...
Feeds ... " New Age Separatism " ... !!!!!

which ... CLEARLY NOW ...
is causing rise to ...

... FUNDAMENTALISM ... !!!!!

from those who court ... " Religion " ...
to those who preach ... " Division " ...
and ... Teachings of ... RACISM ... !!!!!!!

From groups just like ...
The ... " BNP " ...

Nick Griffins' Plea ...
is ... VOTE FOR ME ... !!!

" I may just do !!!!!! "

Like those who choose
to ... Walk in Shoes ...

NEW and IMPROVED ... !!!

They now ... Don't Use ...
Those ... STEEL CAPPED BOOTS ...

But still are ... CLEARLY ...
Quite ... " CONFUSED " ... ?!?!?

Until it come to ...
Using ... " TOOLS " ... !!!!!

"You know the drill boys !
We've got new toys,
the first **** in view
you know what to do !"

How many of them ?
Now join ... Police Crews ... !?!

to use ...
Their ... NEW SUIT ...

To ... Institute Abuse ... !?!
  
I guess you ... " Bourgeoise Crews " ...
are now thinking ... " Oooooohhh " ... !?!

Well ....
NOT ... as much ...
as those ... " Immigrant Youth " ...
who've seen policemen ... Act Uncouth ... !!!!!

Vote ... BNP ... !!!!! ...
If you really want to ...
for all the good ...
This will do you ... !!!

The Rich ... will still ...
"Look Down" ... on the poor ... !!!

from the ... " Top of the Hill " ...
whilst storing ... pounds ...
and ... " Dollar Bills " ..

You're ...
" Foolish If " ...
You think ... They Won't ... !!!

whether immigrants ... STAY ...
or ... immigrants .... GO .... !!!!!!!

IT'S NOT ... just blacks ...
who'll face ... Attacks ... !!!

They're ... " Pretty Radical " ...
and that's a .... FACT .... !!! .....

I wonder sometimes ... ??? ...
Are they ... " Government Backed " ... ?!?

because ... if they are ... ???
Will they ... KICK US OUT ... !?!
with a ... " Bag of Cash " ...

because ... Right Now ...
That wouldn't be ... so bad ... !!!

So vote ... BNP ... !!!
That's Now ... MY PLEA ... !!!!!!

They may ... FINALLY ...
Set Immigrants ... FREE ... !!!!!

FREE from ... LIES ...
in ... This Country ...
from those ... You ... VOTE FOR ...
YES .... " MP's " .... !!!!! ....

Men like ... " Clarke " ...
" Prescott " ... and ... " Kennedy " ...

How about those three ... !?!

An ... INCOMPETENT LIAR ...
and ... Confessed ... " Alchy " ... !!!!!

I'll let you ... " Decide " ...
who applies to ... each ...

I'll say it again ... !!!
In Fact ... I'll ... REPEAT ... !!!

My ... " New Found Line " ...
Just ... ONE MORE TIME ...

VOTE BNP ... !!!!!!

As I said ... before ...
I may now do ... !!!!!!!!!

and that's the ... TRUTH ... !!!
cos' i've ... Never liked red ...
and am Black ... NOT Blue ... !!!!!

But ...
What about you ... ?

DON'T BE ABSURD ... !!!

It'll make things ... WORSE ... !!!!!

The only ones who'll ... WIN ...
will be those whose work ...
is ... " Driving A Hearse " ...

I suggest you ... Take That ... " IN " ...
and REMEMBER ... those words ... !!!!!!!!

If it comes to that ...
Whites ... " Joining Klans " ...
who make ... Racist Attacks ...
with tools like an ... AXE ... !!!!!

I suggest you think back ...
to ... " Notting Hill Frictions " ...
Toxteth ... and ... Brixton ...

Remember when the ... RIOTS ...
were the news on ... Television ...

It wasn't ... Much Fun ... !!!

Well ... Nowadays ...
Some ... " Carry Guns " ...

I'd prefer ... NOT TO SEE ...
Riot Violence ... on streets ...

Some of you ... SURELY ...
Agree ..... with me ..... !!!!!

I'd rather find ... SOLUTIONS ... !!!
That ... DECIMATE ... " iLLusiOns " ... !!!!!

because it .....
Wouldn't be ... " Wise " ...
to ... incREASE FIGHTS ... !!!
and face a ... REVOLUTION ... !!!!

We Need to build ...
" More Unions " ... !!!

That Help ...
" Depose " ... " Collusions " ... !!! ...
Employed to spread ... " Confusion " ... ?!?!?

This piece of prose ...
may make some ... FROWN ... !?!

But ...
NOT ... as much ...
As ... Government Clowns ... !!!

Who ... choose to leave ...
The Masses to ... THIEVES ... !!!
and .... POVERTY .... !!!

and a ... Health Service ...
Now on .... It's KNEES .... !!!

When you look around now
Don't you .... Agree .... ??? ...

If your answer is ... NO ... ?

You must ...
LIKE TO BE ... Clowned ... ?!?

which leaves me thinking ...

" COME ON NOW ... !!!!! "
As the BNP has seemingly, been swept aside
by the rise of the EDL & now UKIP, in England

This piece, that I wrote, some years ago,
still holds weight, as the immigrant debate
is now, still being used for political games ...

Same bullchit,
just some different names and faces
and .... NOT JUST IN ... The UK ... !!!
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2016
to live in a society where artistic expression is least expected or not wanted, to live in a society that doesn't allow part-time explorations of a "creative side" of things, to live in a society that doesn't really need art, to live in a society that doesn't make it easy to become artists, to live in a society that doesn't make it easy to become artists, to live in a society that cherishes manual labour and teaches its youth to keep the hands and make do with manual labours as pride-enveloped - the sweat and a goodnight's sleep - to live in a society where art is difficult to muster and call profession rather than a past-time, to live in a society of professional artists likened to the Italian Renaissance, to live in a society where manual labour is prißed (s / z interchange, phonetic antonym proximity: priced), to live in a society where acceptable gambling is shunned like unacceptable gambling is infectious with warnings sold... to live in a state like this... would be to have the stern village everyone-knows-everyone attitude, where outsiders are deemed suspicious without hierarchies of spying organisations... where everyone tends to wear the same underwear - well that would be a society built without a concept of slavery or microwave fine dining... by the way, given the nakedness of English encoding, and the many particular deviations in linguistics and *** alike, you can put in whatever stresses are necessary whenever you see them, e.g. carrot and a carot and shtick - škoda / sh-codices - feel free, explore, the labyrinth is yours - in Polish škoda is a word know as - shame, leveraging on the phrase 'oh well' / '(what) could have been'.*

i used to check my neck-fat dangle bits
and pieces like someone with high blood-pressure,
it was a sorry affair,
i feel more comfortable with a Scandinavian
physique of whale-blubber cushioning
my bones - i told you once, i'll tell you again,
i rather live on ᚦᚨᚱᛁᛖ œyer - got to curl the tongue
rather than simply have a tongue in cheek -
than anyone else - like a thomas hardy novel:
far from the maddening crowd,
obscure, half-witted, raised on an Orca meat diet,
half-sure whether Milan or Venice ever existed,
happy, not really agitated to write poetry,
more agitated to build a boat or fix
a drainage pipe, but not exactly expecting a poem
to be on the cards to be read like tabloid newspapers
are by feet imprinting mud on them discarded
by the time the Evening Standard is printed
in urban streets, promising in hand and fresh igloo
slice of tongue on the index to turn the next page...
later worth less than toilet paper,
that's journalism, at the end of the day
it's worth less than toilet paper, the paper's too rough,
you'll end up cutting your **** up rather than
cushioning out a brown marshmallow - it ends up on
the street, in the gutter, trampled and otherwise,
harsh words about reality-t.v. come with harsh realities...
toilet paper comes with the gentle side of mankind,
seated on the throne-of-thrones, the obscure
fundamentalism of having a heart, being killed while
taking a **** - next of kin: a baby in a ***** likewise fated.
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2016
looks like someone's dancing in their underwear...
touché - looks like someone's buying pints
of milk in their pyjamas.

night privy, nocturnal India
i get to do the dance over your grave
while your relatives grieve a pointless
grief: just in the same way they grieved
a rotten chestnut, or egg....
maybe this sprout of anti-imagination
might be a floating limb of ambition
to being *simply
reattached -  the black keys'
                        lonely boy
-
spastic maestro number uno - chillies
and the Chilcot KKK inquiry -
got buff results with the whitey crew -
took out the trash, fed the gerbils,
saved a Latex ****** from the hood...
well... the Kentucky hooded brigade,
fully tent equipped parishioners -
                 and whenever you dress up as sheep
you better barbecue - c k q - what a long shopping list -
   *i've got a love that keeps me waiting!
  ooh oh oh oh!
            i've got a love that keeps me waiting;
                   i'm a lonely boy"
-      
                     to cue or to queue -
         a forever question unanswered -
of simply quit... they call it the lack of
solar tattoo pigmentation -
         i treat the argument for god
like i'd treat winning the jackpot in lottery,
    it just has the prefix existential- prior to what's
       being gambled: someone suggested respectability;
                     i guess that's fair enough - otherwise
i call it a fail with potatoes acting as bricks
in Northern Ireland... and a blatant lack
of back-up colonialism....
         that ****** better sprech Anglo
or he's toast.... then came the Voodoo Vindaloo -
screaming: churn out the chillies into chokes! aah!
oh oh or excessive umlaut agitation -
poor tool tummy - when have you experienced
the ****-up in surgical syllables taken
to the butchers for coarse timing
that never coerced?
i danced that dance, angry though,
when they played Pendulum's Tarantula
in a Basildon's night-club - you heard a roar
when spotted an "epileptic"
(both dittoing as said, and ambiguity) weaving a web of
personal space - truly and originally,
not your cup of tea - i'd ensure you as
              respectably assured -
mind the Sundays and the roast beef and
the home office and Yorkshire fundamentalism;
Newcastle? Newcastle is too hedonistic.
ExulSolus Jun 2015
Used to the supernatural, catastrophic madness,
I mistake my daily life for peace.
As this roaming train wobbles me back and forth,
What was it that I shouldn't lose sight of?

Consumed by concepts of egalitarian fundamentalism,
Feels like even my soul is so much uncertainty.
You have to clearly state what you love and what you hate,
Or you're no different from a dummy.

Ah, the crowds of people walking down the streets at night,
Some seem to be in bliss, some melancholic.
The contrast jumps around the music staff,
Creating the song and rhythm.

Marmalade and sugar song,
Peanuts and Bitter step,
So sweet and yet so sore,
It makes me feel queasy.

Let's head south-southwest,
And keep this party going,
To make it a night
That the world will never forget.

I feel fantastic, a chain of reflections go on

Marmalade and sugar song,
Peanuts and Bitter step,
So sweet and yet so sore,
It makes me feel queasy.

Let's head south-southwest,
And keep this party going,
To make it a night
That the world will never forget.

I feel fantastic, a chain of reflections go on
From one good time,
To a problem, then another good time
Credits to unison square garden and everyone behind it! Peace~
The grave thunders were of great coexistence in the mystical legions that turned around the nocturnal advance since the kingdom of the Subclavia and the Macedonian Psiloi began to raise the active groups that had to continue above the dusty silica, speaking no more than another doctrine that the tree of life in the geographical diameter of the town of Sapsila and Grikos on the war route to Skalá, but rather of epigraphy that was kept anonymous until they really saw each other face to face, fading from everything that will remain of the body that lies steep from the specters that will fight in the roadstead of Skalá.

Azrael "the help of God" began to be characterized with thousands of crowds that began to settle to witness this phenomenon of the military forces that had been annihilated in Arbela, and now revived were taking compensation for a credible epigraphy, more than people who were also crowds of souls that competed when contemplating the axon between Grikos and Skalá, attributing shared contemplation with the visions of the fragmentaries and the surplus epidermis, which were abandoned by both sides with the complexions of the same Angels that they left to reside and renew after the splendorous light that was dissimilar to their interests, and escorted them to define the strength of Baal prostrated to the Primordial Ether between all the opposing explosions that obviously divided the Mashiach, which was weighted with the gear of Light that was mediated in infinitives colors, between the banners to the source of Light of the Lights of the Kassotide as the o mphalo of aspiration in the Awir Qadmon of the Zohar, or explosional source of Light from where the Sybillas would descend from their vortex of admission that electromagnetically surpassed them from Hyperborea, and from where it looked like a millennial bleached that was reinserted in the ultraviolet, until degrading even in the pale celestial light from where the infinite playful colors of Raeder and Petrobus are divided, once again characterizing the families in their oikos, giving them holy water on the peaks of the Pelicans to be scattered in all the spectral figures of the Hoplite military forces that are they made upright and humble pro-courtiers who augured the strong influences of their eschatological, which would bring water and bread to all the regions of the Dodecanese after the Mega Seismic of Agios Andreas, from an orthodox rationalism instituted with super munificence withdrawn by the oppressor. The inclinations of both sides were different, those of the Persians were adverse to contemplations of greater emphasis and in the repairs of the medical battles of the past, since Bessos after the flight of Darío and his subsequent crime, he assumed as his Satrap car proclaiming himself as Xerxes' successor.
Fundamentalism brought the anxious troops in the Kabbalah of the Emotional Subclavian since it raises a colossal anthropological remnant of the spectral silica that unites Grikos and Skalá, arguing that from there in this subclavian the hormones of corpse mummies roar, with the greater flow than those that They are destined to die several times without having compassion for their ancestors, turning to the dust brooms that leads them to impieties that contradict the pietism that still did not lie in treasuring them, but wrapped themselves in their own syncretic sarcophagi, to praise the revolutions of woodworm. of dust with the hyper kinetics of Kabbalah that will bring light in meadows, and waters in streams that will be visible by the human eye towards the ecstatic, leaving them uncertain in the reality of joining the Merkaba as a coalition that has consonance, quality, and evidence with all the currents of thought and scholarship of irrational imperialism not adhered to the holiest and most generous to the action of service of Saint John the Apostle.

The strings were seen from great height like chains of Prometheus adding more links for those who made the syntax of Jakob when he came back from the lands of Laban leaving behind the cornered voices of the desert that clarifies everything, and leaves them in the spaces of the graphemes that make up the phylogeny of those who have walked day and night in the desert, at the expense of consonants such as Alpha and Aleph to develop the tracheo-laryngeal voices of Aramaic that were pronounced by all parts of the flint, and of deproposited inclinations of those who are paired by the coveted desire of the virulent result of the temptations by wanting to take all the material gains beyond the grave with Asmodeus or Lilith, if it is very broad to capitulate to the theories of the mysterious becoming, and how this colossal image will rise among all where the figure of the anthropological being rests that was flat in the subclavian, throbbing with so much flow of red blood cells, and Letters of Light where the Eagles and Oxen of Apollo will have the same inspirational wings of one who becomes divine after having been a mythological prototype, prostrated in all the powers of the Lion and the Gerakis as a master of the air and of the lion like the Cherub who he is jealous of the syntax and coordination so that the world began to speak of the common language with a language and its vibrations that rehabilitate the cosmos that had been twisted cabalistically since the Kassotide pit had been sealed. The communities made their souls cultured and genuine, allowing these militia networks to collide, claiming to sustain possible escapes before a body without a soul, being only specters that decomposed as time passed in the heliacal rise that made the pseudepigraphic alerts, to re-contribute to a literary reality that can be incorporated into the elite of anthropological literary works where spectral rooms can themselves contribute and build foundations, that are diligent succumbed parties having to go in the Zohar Light exhibition who stands indoctrinated to rise in these spectral posthumous Battle of Patmia.
Psiloi
CharlesC Jan 2013
the end of
a process is
known as outcome..
our outcomes formed
in planning and visions..
all ends embedded
in those beginnings..

but a danger lurks
when our awareness
of process idles..
process is struggle
mitigated by joy
living this moment
crying out Now..

vital experience between
departure and arrival
stimulates both
beginning and end..
when process forgotten
dogma and fundamentalism
these cousins loom...
Sarah Jystad Feb 2010
What is the sight of blood?
The essence of our mortality,
The horror of our brevity,
The factory of harmony,
Nourishment
            life
                awe
of, in the soul's home.

The Journey:
You can explore the extent of your boundaries,
Even transcend, but not without punishing balance.
Tipping, favoring a side, pulling it tight until
The Breakage:
Crevice filling to the brim, trickling to the depths of the
unknown,
awaiting, translating

Crystallization as the realization of the
personal scheme, the ego's circus, the mask-maker thrives,
the cultivation of sorrows contrives the demise of
Our own Evolution of sighs.

CRYSTALLIZATION
The process of modern self-identification.
We must fill a mold,
Originality must fold and
Collapse into a labyrinth.

Choosing to choose the options listed in front of us,
Never looking around or inside us.

What a clever game,
Self-aware while we remain ignorant essentially.
Climbing the hills, ladders, slides, and valleys
Without choosing to excuse ourselves
To a life without the conventional rides.

Perhaps, it can be no different...

The rose grows from the ground,
Some hidden, some found.
No ears, no sound.
We cannot fly.
To gravity, we are bound.

It matters
What matters
(it matters? what matters?)

For what exists has an opposite.
For what is freedom worth without captivity?
Where would passion be without apathy?
Wind, earth?
Peace, bloodshed?
Comfort, pain?
Fury, forgiveness?
Decay, fecundity?
Fundamentalism, atheism?

The world, our world, is a world of opposites.

Our building blocks are composed of
The Paradox.
A balance of what is inconceivable and actual.

Tip the scales, and Bleed.
11/01/09
A fool who failed to realize his flaws, flabbergasted at the thought how he has yet to reach fruition; can such fallacies formulate for this long?

Even foes forge wars against such fundamentalism. But you, a felonious man, has no fear of anyone at all.

It's futile to fight such a closed-mind fiend of a man, fraud and fictive thoughts has already permeated such a mind;  for his ways are fragile, fruitless and foul like a dead tree of figs.
Close minded people are hard to communicate with.
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2017
the ethos of arbeit has overpowered the english speaking people, with a sarcastic notion of liebe, and made both work, and love, arbitrary, nay, nasally said: homophilic: too many phobias are spoken off, spiders in the guise of arachnophobia don't suddenly become islam! you see any gigantus aranea roaming the streets?! for the most part, i'm closer to see popes walk naked in a francis bacon sketch of the affairs... let's be honest, the holy ghost has become run over by the other spirit, the other phrase of sophia, the zeitgeist, not this church infested cockroach colony of the platzgeist with a few crimson cardinals numbed into mumbling their mea culpas ave marias... the senile old ******* just died, with: a few more thousand young men, born into a world without having to succumb to the "tender" female noir of a bambi (transgender times, live with it) harem ******* occupiers in the form of: zee heff! i'll be crying as much when, some other public personage dies... although i did grit my teeth when my great-grandmother died, managed to bite off a scalpel of tooth with my other tooth... funny, i can still tongue the canyon proof.

and it's the antithesis of the # (hashtag) generation,
namely? the súdokū...
   plus the english ******* explanation of
needing the hyphen, as a diacritical mark
to ease, sorry, forget the poncy ***** ******
talk of "proper": lubricate the dissection
of cutting a word open into alphabet street...
   it would otherwise look more like su-dough-coup
with the p in bracket form ( ), since the french
over the antithesis of dyslexia compared
to the english, they just add letters that do not,
require attendance / mention.
          but that's the case, every time i solve
this *** sushi riddle i can't but compare it to
the zeitgeist of the hashtag...
              so i perch on a windowsill like a
wake of vultures of a lion reaching gluttony scene,
and start thinking: hey, how about we pair up
and pecker off that sod of a robert plant?
give him the curly wurly momentum,
start to peck at his ***,
  and then give him a vulture's barber effect
of trichotillomania?
there's bound to be a lesson in that,
    what with ol' hef gone, we only 'ave to
worry aboot the hoff...
             ha ha... when hef met hoff,
           and the **** never stopped,
even leaving king solomon a tad bit jealous.

i sit on a pile of rubble, and call it a castle -
time ref. to counter the darwinist -
and yes, the saharan desert was once a
mountain range akin to the alpes - or the himalayas -
as any chemist would, side with the geologists
than than the biologists: mushy mushy doesn't
buy my effort, the biologists just expanded
history, we might as well make the *other

connection, between desert and mountain,
ergo: time,
       takes a lot of it,
          pretty much as much as space,
             apes have become debased genesis foci...
too many variations of it,
you'd have to start with eskimo and say:
  well: the orangutans seemed pleased with
a down syndrome replica...
                so just the chimps? no gorillas?
i still like my counter darwinism argument,
the counter biology, the lost mushy mushy
cushioning of certainty -
    like any chemist, i live for the hard stuff,
comes no harder than siding with geology,
saying: the epitome of times comes in
the form of the saharan mountain range,
that, given enough time (and we have a lot of
that now) - eroded into a sand-dial...
    irony, or divine intuition?
          and didn't the bible give off a whiff of:
and then a dinosaur went into eden:
   hey, be gods, try to, even,
  watch out, a ******* meteor might just come;
there's no fundamentalism contained
in a book that was written by an egyptian
prince...
    just a lack of poetic integrity in the interpretation...
i still don't see how poetry is slagged,
but the basic tenet of poetic writing is
taken, without a pinch of metaphor,
or counter-metaphor, in that it can be expanded
and be applied like a philosopher's stone,
to turn any known material into gold!

which brings me to another point, well, two,
how do you gain respect from the cats
you're petting?
             you sleep longer than they do.

point 2...

why has reading become such a "tedium" /
"accomplishment" -
   i'll tell you why, i don't like a language
of thinkers, i live a language realm of babblers...
the right to say blah is worth more than
the right to think oh...
                speaking has become too easy,
solidified by that fact that (if not even est.)
when someone writes a book, it becomes,
oh, the most glorious accomplishment!
     wow... these people really managed to
shut their gobs, and write a book?!
         wow... it's like seeing the fruition of
the event that didn't take place, that would have
been the out-doing of the hebrew architectural
tenure on the pyramids, that would have been
the hanging gardens of babylon,
that was, eventually, the poor nebuchadnezzar
crawling and snorting like a pig for seven years...
if you thought the pyramids were
a mad idea,  
    the jews finally solved the riddle exclaiming:
o.k., you know what, that's just
bonkers... you're about as mad as your hyena
grandfather, or father, or whatever he was
for asking to the seas to obey him by whipping
them (xerxes)...
  it's that unamazing to write a book these days...
or it really is, given that you have ghosts
writing them...
       ****, and they said the paranormal
didn't exist... really? ghost writers?
       maybe that's one of the reasons that when
don juan wrote his memoir,
  after bouts of not getting any, he invited
himself to a better pastime than jerking off...
well, might as well die a boring sod since
i'm not getting any, any more...
       me? i always thought of jerking off as
performing ****...
     i can't imagine the hand to be anyhow
different to the muscular ****...
    and for some reason,
i always end up thinking of the queen of england
waving: to add the seasoning of lacklustre
to the whole affair:
  like i'm there, but not really, there -
the roy orbison effort to make that:
strenuous effort at opera -
     and he was hardly the modern comparison
of a pop star with neck arteries protruding;
and he's still better than elvis.

word of wisdom:
  in the medium of poetry?
write by one technique, and one technique
alone...
          digression...
well, that's how i was taught english,
by a pict.
Yenson Mar 2023
All still as cack-handed as ever
fundamentalism
at its lowest basis of understanding

Groupthink and double-talk
convoluting in insignificance
where simpletons
do subtleties
that are nowt but unsophisticated idiocies

who understands ignorance better
than the ignorant
how do the mindless know they are
mindless without a mind

The Flat Earth Thinkers walks straight
they have not fallen off
that conclusively proves the point
Round Earth my foot

So doing doggy
means we think we are dogs
and a fat man only want a fat woman
and we only learn by seeing
do me a favour 's'il vous plaît.'

Its all still as cack-handed as ever
fundamentalism
at its lowest basis of understanding
cause after all we all know the moon is made of cheese
and every human on earth drinks tea and eats chips
Psyche soaking wet with devout atheism,
this lifetime skeptic now tenuously
linkedin with Unitarianism
attests, said upbringing proffered,
mine credo, gestalt,

leitmotif, sans abstractionism
eludes elucidation, delineation, clarification...
some readers might
dismiss as absurdism
defying established dogma fixed absolutism

millenniums, would be hashtagged heretical,
and such cavalier blithe
apostasy, declared alarmism,
now - twenty first century
extant accursed as alcoholism

within various non
Western statecraft enclaves,
barely tolerating agnosticism
no fool to *******
proclamations antithetical opinionism

where condemnation to death
(I obediently, humbly, and gladly accept)
inadequate punishment,
cited on par relegated to alienism,
amoralism, antiestablishmentarianism...

never does this anachronism
loosely cabled with pioneerism,
(when ****** forests bedecked America),
a veritable wilderness, necessitated
quintessential self survivalism

knowhow long since forgot,
which dependence on consumerism
finds yours truly afflicted against capitalism
commercialism, conformism, cultism et cetera
more aligned with reliance on individualism

nearly an extinct species,
where anti materialism
betrays, cavils, and discourages ecocentrism,
versus profit motive maximization,
though of late environmental dynamism

aggressive representative thank you
Greta Ernman Thunberg regarding criticism,
nee opprobrious global ecological terrorism
mandating staunch defeatism
as stave bulwark

against criminal determinism
to wreak irrevocable traitorous dogmatism
predicated on tenets of egocentrism
brewed, steeped, and
galvanized in exceptionalism

of **** sapiens and expansionism
exclusive to said primate
that requires serious assessment,
asper bracketing craven
doctrinairism edified fundamentalism
granting humans unfettered expansionism!
RAJ NANDY Jul 2021
Dear friends, as an old poet I lament the happenings going on in our World in one of my blue moods! – Raj Nandy, New Delhi.

   LAMENTATIONS OF AN OLD POET!
The World shall continue to move at its own pace,
With global warming making things difficult for
the entire human race!
As Covid virus continues to mutate, with China’s
expansionist policy trying to dominate!
World Leaders lack the guts to condem China!
Unfortunately, these myopic Leaders only remain
fixiated on the past crimes of Adolp ******!
Religious fundamentalism shall continue to
persecute humanity,
In their fight that can never be fully won in
reality.
Our dishonest politicians shall continue to cheat
and rob their very own!
While the rich shall continue to become richer,
With the poor becoming more poorer, - as the
World goes on!
The World is changing fast and it is no longer
the World we had earlier known!
I wonder what legacy shall we leave behind for
our growing generation?
Perhaps they have to develop survival skills on
their own!
Now I conclude with a quote from the English
poet William Wordsworth:-
“If this belief from heaven be sent,
  If such be Nature's holy plan,
  Have I not reason to lament
  What Man has made of Man?”
                                         -Raj Nandy, July2021, New Delhi.
Aditya Roy Jun 2019
The music dies in the end
The early rising of the revolution
Brings the soldiers on the fields
With their guns of gold
Reaping what they sow with peasants dying
Blood everywhere
The selected people rise from the ashes
And the pulses ripe with the blood of a thousand
Workers lying in the fields
Enslaved by violence and crime was meaningless
The derelicts of war had risen with power
To rule people with the forceful hand that pulls the tiredness
Out of these soulless passengers of war-ridden land
The peaceful valley had seen destruction and now was gone
In a second the whole valley
Had become one and broke the power
That made the powerless broken by bewitched sedimented in the fundamentalism of this land
Taken by its roots
The rooms roam from the economic crisis that could cut its growing implications
Of crooks making it a feeling that devoid us of sensation
Crying life from the righteous people
Living in the despair of resuscitation from a painless existence
Parse knowledge brings ignorance to depravity
And this is what makes the government ignominious
You may even look at it as being unattached to the people in power
Points in an argument, evolution makes a good point
Repercussions of theological evidence as it is
The point of the horrid instance
When you're somewhere but nowhere
Cars seem to rush by you in an instant
Do you see movement?
Kinetically, it would impossible to know the immensity
Of your own strength.
Michael T Chase Feb 2021
How do I put away words when they can spread maturity?
How can I exercise deeds when wisdom doesn't call for them?
How can thoughts ever have effect if they are not cognised into words or deeds?
How can objects of the macro level ever be justified if they are not used at the macro level?
How can minutia ever be justified if they are not employed in technology?
A quantum computer on every phone or in every home by the time I die!
How can prayer ever be worthwhile it doesn't inspire these things?
Who will be an exponent of knowledge in a field of ignorance where each person must criticize another knowledge to build up there's?
The school of life is full of naysayers.
It is also full of special interests who wish to keep me questioning the dignity of dignified politics.

The world needs unity, our President has propounded.
Yet who am I to set forth ideas for laws?
I am a vessel for love, for idealism.
How do I spread idealism, when my deeds say "moderation"?
Smoking cigarettes, non-alcoholic beer, **** art, *******, and God forbid: coffee!
On the other side: vitamins, vegetarianism, exercise, meditation, martial arts, math, and science.
For some reason I have a picture that idealism equals fundamentalism.
When in reality idealism is love and unity.

When spoken of as love for God shared with others, love can be a foreign word.
If God can never, ever be fully seen or known, wouldn't the only love of God be love of humanity?
Also, when knowledge is the main focus of life, love loses meaning and love is love of knowledge, while any other love than this is petty.
There is also love of excellence.

From a child it was the admiration of a kind one, an athlete, a musician, and artist.
It soon turned into a love of companionship, both friendship and romantic.
Yet due to my diverse nature, I found no one to share a moderate life with.
So I turned to companionship centered on alcohol and drugs.
Then I finally realised it was really just love of drugs that kept us together, and that without them I was as nothing to them.
So friendship ext became a sort of intuition.
The institution of religion.
Where even the proximity of a religious person was as dear friendship to me.
And any differences between us were joys of freedom of belief.

Next, without school or work I was as an outcast, because religious friends are interested in my work for humanity or too often an outer institution of knowledge.
With no compass for even writing down my thoughts to give me confidence, I did the only thing I could: I copied an Isaac Asimov introductory physics book word for word.
Physics my senior year created such a love for physics that my only dear expression was in copying that book.

Then, one night I realised I could copy Holy Scripture to strengthen my virtue.
And with one copy of a verse, my world came caving in.
My newfound spiritual power found the only avenue for my ignorance in violence toward my father.
I was hospitalized for mental health at 19.
First I argued with the staff thinking I didn't need medication.
Then I realised that cooperation was the only road out of the hospital.
I became docile and sedate.
My first day out my father recommended that I start his style of meditation.
Previously I had wanted to do my own style of meditation, but when I shared my insights with him, I was met with: "That's not what so and so teaches".

Now I found myself docile enough to begin his meditation.
After three months I felt focused and one-pointed.
After 18 months I had my first enlightenment experience.
Then, after I continued, The meditation started to make my strong and capable virtues waste away.
I was, unknown or rather known to me, a prisoner of my meditation.
My fields of study changed form music to philosophy and religion.
I moved away from home.
I worked unrelated jobs.
Then, due to my interest in spirituality, I entered an unaccredited spiritual school.

They challenged me to practice different techniques of inspiration, meditation, concentration, journaling, and diet.
I felt it was time to change my meditation practice which I by then had fully assimilated form my father.
But now I differentiated form him.
I used my own eyes like they had never been used before.
I finished a higher college degree.
I got married.
Then I was tested harder than I ever had been, and still never was.
I battled for normalcy by going off my medication ending up estranged in jail, only to come out with a wife who filed for divorce.
With her unforgiving and weak heart, never wanting to see a husband go through such tests again, the marriage ended.

I at once felt cut off from the world and became depressed.
Now on two meds I once again managed my life on my own.
I worked while going back to school to study electronics.
Afterwards, my interest in physics grew and grew.
I devoured all I could in my free time away from my job.
Then work was taking me too far away from my studies, so weirdly enough I had a back/hernia problem at work, which caused me to quit.
That same week my roommate, a best friend, had moved out of state, my cat who was catching mice for another fiend wasn't allowed back into my apartment by management, and my grandad had died not too long before.
I was weak, exhausted, felt displaced, and companionless.
I immediately took a 90-mile Uber trip to my dad's.

He let me study without a job for three months until I felt my life wasn't progressing without a job.
Two jobs later I find myself as a dishwasher/deliver/food prep worker at an upscale restaurant.
With blue collar humor mixed with female energy, it is quite exciting on busy nights.

Almost 21 years since I finished my first physics class, with an electronics degree, and over six years of self-study, I have little to show the world of my love for this knowledge of math and physics.
With Grassmannian geometry, momentum event horizons, and galaxies moving in all directions at all accelerations, with the inconceivability of witnessing a graviton, and the cover up of the US government reverse engineering extra-terrestrial technology.
With local laws helping free us from the grid being squashed by state governments, and thousands of secret patents, and inventors killed.
I can hardly make any ethical movement in technology and science without first coming to terms with the Native American, Black, and Hispanic brothers ans sister being systematically devalued, while women don't have equal pay with men.
So my mind wishes to grapple with science while in reality that path can hardly be entertained, or entertained only as an outlet for curiosity.

Meanwhile, seeing with my own spiritual eyes, my meditations have developed into a kind of zen, although I have no formal teaching in it.

— The End —