Dear Poet Friends, Torin Galleshaw from Charlotte NC, a Member of this Site, had requested me to compose about the Rise of Third *****. Therefore, I have commenced with the causes for its Rise in my Part One posted below. Planning to compose Part Two with ******’s Blitzkrieg campaign of Poland later. It is unfortunate that I am unable to post related Maps & Photos for better appreciation of my Readers! Such options are not available for us here! However, I have managed to post a copy with maps & photos in the E-mail ID of my friend Torin!  Kindly give comments only after reading this researched work of mine, during your spare time.  Thanking you, - Raj, New Delhi.

            STORY OF SECOND WORLD WAR – PART ONE
                            RISE OF THE THIRD *****
                                       By Raj Nandy

                                  INTRODUCTION
In this part I shall mainly deal with the causes leading to the Second World War,
Which had also created favourable conditions for the rise of Third ***** under ******.
The word ‘*****’ derives from old German word ‘rihhi’ meaning ‘realm’;  
But is also used to designate a kingdom or an empire in a broader sense.
Historically, the First ***** was the Medieval Holy Roman Empire which lasted till the end of the 19th Century.
While the Second ***** was the First German Empire from 1871 to 1918, when dynamic Otto Von Bismark had united all of Germany,
Which ended with its defeat in World War One and birth of the Weimar Republic.
The Third ***** refers to the **** German Empire under ******, Which lasted from 1933 till 1945, for twelve traumatic eventful years!
Historians opine that the ending of a war is equally important as
its beginning;
Since the causes for the start of a war is often to be found embedded in its ending!
The First World War came to an end on 28th of June 1919 as we all know.
With the signing of the Treaty at Versailles by the German Foreign Minister Hermann Muller and the ‘Big Four’.  (Britain, France, America, & Italy)
Yet it is rather ironical, that this Peace Treaty of Versailles, considered as President Woodrow Wilson’s ‘brain child’,
Had sowed the seeds of discontent resulting in the outbreak of the Second World War, and Adolf ******’s dramatic rise!

Though several causes are attributed for the outbreak of the Second World War by our Military Historians.
Let me try to summarise those causes which are considered to be more relevant.
Commencing with the harsh Treaty of Versailles, the British and French Policy of Appeasement, followed by Hyperinflation and the Great Depression of 1929, and failure of The League of Nations to maintain peace;  
Are relevant factors which collectively combined resulting in the outbreak of the devastating Second World War, scarring human memories for all time!
But not forgetting ******’s forceful and persuasive eloquence which mesmerised the Germans to rise up as a powerful Nation once again.
Since ****** promised to avenge the humiliation faced by Germany following the Treaty of Versailles,
Which was drawn up with vengeance, and dictated by the victorious Allies!

THE  ARMISTICE  AND TREATY OF VERSAILLES:    
Armistice means a truce for cessation of hostilities, which provides a breathing space for negotiating a lasting peace.
Now the Armistice ceasing the First World War was signed inside the railway carriage of the Allied Supreme Commander Marshal Foch, in the Forest of Compiegne,
On the 11th of November 1919, sixty km north of Paris, between the victorious Allies and vanquished Germany.
But in the meantime naval blockade of Germany had continued, and the German Rhineland was evacuated and partly occupied by the combined Allied troops!
Release of Allied POWs interned civilians followed subsequently; And the Reparations Clause of monetary compensation was strictly imposed on Germany!
Now, following a wide spread German Sailor’s Revolt towards the end of October 1918, Emperor Kaiser Wilhelm-II had abdicated;
And on the 9th of November Friedrich Ebert, as the new Social Democrat President of Germany, authorised his representative to sign the Compiegne Armistice.
We should remember here that this Armistice seeking cessation of hostilities did not stipulate any unconditional surrender;
And the signing of the Armistice by the German Social Democrats, was considered as ‘a stab in the back of the German army’ by majority of the Germans!
These issues get repeatedly mentioned by Adolf ****** in his eloquent speeches subsequently,
To arouse the spirit of German Nationalism, and resurgence of the ‘Master Aryan Race’ of the Germans, - in Germany!

The Versailles Treaty was signed on 28th of June 1919, exactly five years after the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand which had sparked World War One.
Let me mention few aspects of this Treaty which was detested by the Germans!
Germany lost 13% of its land, 12% of its people, 48% of its iron resources, 15% of its agricultural production, and 10% of its coal, following its implementation!
German army was reduced to 100,000 men, its Navy reduced to 36 ships with no submarines, its Air Force banned, and its union with Austria forbidden.
Now to use a Shakespearean phrase the ‘unkindest cut of all’ came in the shape of Article 231,  the ‘War Guilt Clause’ of the Versailles Treaty,
Which provided the legal basis for the payment of war reparations by Germany.
The reparation amount of 132 billion gold marks (US $33 billion) to cover the civilian damage caused during the war, now had to be paid by Germany!
Thus the humiliation, resentment, and the virtual economic strangulation following the Versailles Treaty,
Was exploited by extremist groups such as ******’s **** Party.
And in the decades to follow, ******’s Nazis would take full control of Germany!

NOTES: Following Versailles Treaty, Alsace-Lorraine captured by Germany in 1870 was returned to France. The SAAR German coalfield region was give to France for 15 yrs. Poland became independent with a corridor to the sea dividing Germany into two. Danzing, a major port in East Prussia, became a free city under the League of Nation. Finland, Lithuania, Latvia, & Czechoslovakia became independent. Industrial area of German Rhineland, forming a buffer zone between Belgium &France,was
demilitarised.

WOODROW WILSON’S  14 - POINT PEACE INITIATIVE  & THE LEAGUE OF NATIONS:
American President Wilson was an idealist and a visionary, who in a speech to the US Congress on 8th Jan 1918,
Introduced a 14 Point Charter as a platform for building global peace, based on the principles of transparency, self-determination, and Democracy.
But for the first time in US history, the Republican-led US Senate rejected this Peace Treaty, and prevented America from joining the newly created League!
The US Senate wanted to retain its sovereignty without external entanglements;
Free from the League of Nation’s political dictates in its foreign commitments!
The Irish immigrants refused to support Wilson's Fourteen Points because Wilson was concerned about stopping WWI, rather than forcing the British to set Ireland free.
Many Jews also refused to back Wilson, since he was paying too much attention to the War, and not enough to the Balfour Declaration of 02 Nov 1917, -
Which promised an Independent Jewish State with a distinct Jewish identity.

The League of Nations had emerged from Wilson’s 14 Points on the 10th Jan 1920, with its HQs at Geneva, Switzerland, but it had no peacekeeping forces those days!
The League had failed to prevent invasion of Chinese Manchuria in 1932 by Japan;
Italy’s invasion of Ethiopia in 1935; annexation of Sudetenland and Austria by Germany!
The Axis countries Germany, Italy, and Japan, withdrew from the League subsequently.
Thus the League of Nations was disbanded in 1946 officially!
But President Wilson’s ceaseless efforts for global peace did not go unrecognised,
Since on the 10th of December 1920, he was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize!
While his disbanded League of Nations, as the first global humanitarian organisation,
Continued to survive in spirit with the establishment of United Nations Organisation on the 24th October, 1945.

ECONOMIC CAUSES - FOLLOWED BY THE GREAT DEPRESSION OF 1929 :
Germany emerged from the First World War with loss of 25,000 square miles of territory;
Loss of seven million inhabitants, and a staggering debt imposed by the Versailles Treaty!
The Wiemar Republic, after abdication of Emperor Kaiser Wilhelm-II  to Holland,
For the first time in German history, established a Democratic Constitution with Friedrich Ebert as its first President.
But The Republic first had to consolidate itself by squashing the Spartacist Revolt of January 1919 led by the extreme Leftists, and inspired by the Russian Bolshevik Communists!
The Freikorps, in March 1920, an Ex-Soldiers Rightist Group, tried to overthrow the Wiemar Republic with support of their Rightist allies and their own veteran troops!
This was soon followed by a Communist attempt to takeover of the Industrial Rhur;
But fortunately, all these uprisings against the Republic were effectively subdued!
But the 33 Billion Dollars of Reparations hung over the Wiemar Republic like the legendary ‘Sword of Damocles’, followed by the Great Depression of 1929;
Coupled with the ‘Policy of Appeasement’ practised by the British and the French;
Became the most important causes for ******’s expansionist ambition and his short- lived meteoric rise to fame!

GERMAN PAPER CURRENCY & HYPERINFLATION:
Gold Mark was the currency used by the German Empire from 1873 to 1914 only.
But to pay for the costs of the ongoing First World War, Germany suspended the gold standard, and decided to fund the war by Borrowings entirely,
Hoping to pay back the loans after Germany achieves Victory.
But having lost the war, and faced with a massive debt imposed by the Allies,
Exchange rate of the Mark against the US Dollar steadily devalued and declined!
Papiermark became the German currency from 04th August 1914 onward, when link between the Mark and gold reserve was abandoned,
In order to pay for the ongoing expenses of the First World War with paper marks, which was constantly being printed!
But later after the war, when the London Ultimatum of May 1921 demanded payment of war reparations in gold or in foreign currency only,
Even more paper marks got printed by the Republic to buy those foreign currency !
By December 1922 hyper-inflationary trends emerged, when the US Dollar became equivalent to 7,400 German Marks, with a 15-fold increase in the cost of living !
By the fall of 1922 when it became impossible for Germany to make further payments,
The French and Belgium armies occupied Germany’s Ruhr Valley area, its prime industrial region!
French and the Belgians hoped to extract payment in kind, but a strike by the workers of the Ruhr area their hopes belied!
The Wiemar Republic printed more paper notes to pay and support the workers of the Ruhr area,
When hyperinflation had peaked at 4,210,500,000,000 German Marks, to a US Dollar!
Paper currency having become worthless, some form of ancient barter system began to be used instead!

STABILISATION OF GERMAN ECONOMY WITH ONSET OF  THE GREAT DEPRESSION:
Following the hyperinflation Chancellor Josef Cuno’s cabinet resigned in August 1923,
When Gustav Stresemann became the new Chancellor of Germany.
Stresemann’s Government had introduced the Rentenmark as a new stable currency,
To end the hyperinflation which had plagued Wiemar Germany.  
Rentenmark was backed by real goods, agricultural land and business,
Since gold was not available in a beleaguered German economy those days!
When One Rentenmark was equivalent to One million, million, old German Mark;
While One US Dollar was equivalent to only 4.2 Rentenmarks.
Though Stresemann’s Government lasted for 100 days only, Stresemann continued to serve as the Foreign Minister in successive Coalition Governments of the Republic,
Till his death in the month of October 1929, but working for the betterment of Germany all the while!
His ‘Policy of Fulfilment’ stabilised German economy with a 200 Million Dollars loan from America under the Dawes Plan in 1924,
Which had also ensured the evacuation of France from the occupied Ruhr area, with their future reparations payments ensured.
Stresemann’s signing of the Locarno Pact in London on 1st Dec 1925 with France, Belgium, Great Britain, and Italy, was considered as his achievement and a feat!
Since it made Germany to enter the League of Nations ensuring stability and peace;
While the Noble Peace Prize was awarded to Stresemann for his efforts in 1926!
Later, the Young Plan of 1929 further reduced German reparations payment by 20%, while extending the time frame for the payments to 59 years!
But following a sudden Wall Street Stock Market Crash in late October of 1929,
The American Banks were forced to recall money from Europe and the Young Plan;.
Which created acute financial distress when unemployment soared to 33.7%  in Germany in 1931, and quickly rose to 40% during the following year!
Lausanne Conference was held in Switzerland in 1932 by Great Britain, Germany, and France, to further reduce the War Debts imposed by the Versailles Treaty.
But in Dec 1932, the US Congress had rejected this Allied War Debt Reduction Plan completely.
However, no further payments were made by Germany due to the Great Depression;
And by 1932, Germany had paid only 1/8 of the total sum required to be paid as per their pending wartime reparations!

NOTES: Rentenmark was issued on 15 October 1923 to stop the hyperinflation in Wiemeer Germany. Reichmark was the currency in Germany from 1924 to 20 June 1948 in West Germany , when it was replaced by the Deutsche Mark; but had continued in East Germany until 23 June when it was replaced by East German Mark.
During the Stresemann Years of Stability from 1924 to 1929, (prior to the onset of the Great Depression), with help of American financial aid, created more housing & production in Germany. Dada & Expressionist Art forms flourished, followed by modern architecture; also the Philosophy of Existentialism of Thomas Mann – influenced the Western culture. Paul Whiteman's Band for the first time brought in American Jazz to Germany, and Jazz signified the liberation of German youth and women folks of the younger generation generally. But the US Stock Market Crash had unfortunately ended this short lived euphoria, and as it soon became a global phenomena!                                


FAILURE OF THE WIEMAR REPUBLIC & THE GREAT DEPRESSION WHICH BENEFITED THE NAZIS:
Last Days of Wiemar Republic:
Ever since Otto Von Bismarck that ‘Man of iron and steel’, united Germany into a single Empire in the year Eighteen Hundred & Seventy One,
For the first time a Constitution for a Parliamentary Democracy was drawn up in August 1919, in the eastern German city of Wiemar.
Wiemar was the intellectual centre of Germany associated with musicians like Franz List, and writers like Goethe and Schiller.
The Wiemar Republic of Germany which had lasted from 1919 till 1933 had seen,
20 different Coalition Governments, with frequent elections and changing loyalties!
Due to a system of proportional representations, and the presence of very many political parties those days,  
No single party could obtain absolute sole majority in the Reichstag Parliament!
The longest Coalition Govt. was under Chancellor Bruning, which had lasted for only 2 years and 61 days!     (From 30 March 1930 to 30 May 1932)
Now, to understand the reasons for the failure to maintain a Democratic form of Government by the Wiemar Republic,
It becomes necessary to monitor its ‘dying gasps’ during its closing years so to speak!
Since faced with the economic depression Chancellor Bruning had worsened the unemployment situation by adopting stringent and unpopular measures!
Thereby having lost popular political support, Bruning with the approval of President Hindenburg, invoked emergency powers under Article 48, to survive his last few months and years!
During the years 1931 and 1932  it is seen, Bruning had used this Emergency Clause 44 and 66 times respectively!
Thus his so-called ‘Presidential form of Govt.’ had undermined Wiemar Democracy!
If Burning was the ‘Republic’s Undertaker’, now remains a debatable issue of History!
But Burning’s vigorous campaign made Hindenburg to get re-elected as the President;
Thereby he had removed the defeated Adolf ****** out of the Presidential race!
Therefore, later when ****** became the Chancellor on 30 Jan 1933, Bruning had very wisely fled from Germany!

Following Bruning’s resignation in May 1932 came Chancellor Papen’s ‘Cabinet of Barons’ consisting of individuals who were not members of the German Reichstag!
While in the election of July 1932 ******’s **** Party won 230 seats, making it the largest party in the Reichstag.
But ****** refused to form a coalition with Papen, because he wanted to become the Chancellor himself !
Now General von Schleicher advised President Hindenburg that the German Army,
Would not accept Papen’s use of Article 48 to remain as the Chancellor of Germany!
Therefore following Papen’s resignation, Schleicher took over on the 04th of December 1932 as the new German Chancellor.
Schleicher tried to restore a democratic form of government to get the Wiemar Republic back on its feet.
But in the ensuing political power struggle Papen wanted to take revenge on Schleicher for his removal from power and defeat.
So Papen persuaded Adolf ****** to become the Chancellor, and retain for himself the post of Vice-Chancellor.
In doing so, Papen mistakenly thought that he would be able to reign in the self-assertive Adolf ******!
Papen finally made President Hindenburg agree to his proposal, and on 30th of Jan 1933,
****** became the New Chancellor, with approval of the President!
A month later a sudden fire in the Reichstag made ****** invoke Article 48, in order to squash the suspected Left Wing Communists;
But while doing so, the Press was muzzled, and many Civil Rights of the German people were abolished, inclusive of their right of assembly and free speech!
****** acted swiftly, and by passing the Enabling Act on 23 March, 1933, armed himself  with dictatorial powers for enacting laws without the approval of the Reichstag whenever necessary!
Thereby ****** threw Democracy to History’s wasteland most unfortunately!
Following the death of Hindenburg on 29 June 1934, ****** combined the powers of the President and the Chancellor, and became known as the FUHRER!
Historians generally agree the Enabling Act of 1933, as the date for establishment of The German Third *****.

THE POLICY OF APPEASEMENT AND GERMAN AGGRESSION:
The horrors of trench warfare with the rattling of machine guns and bursting of poisonous nerve gas shells,
Even after 20 years remained fresh, in the minds of all World War One participants!
Therefore, it was natural for British and French Prime Ministers Neville Chamberlain and Edouard Daladier initially,
To grant political and material concessions to an aggressive Germany, for the sake of peace and stability.
Thus the diplomatic stance of Appeasement between 1935 and 1939 followed by the French and the British, was mainly to avoid another dangerous armed conflict!
But the trusting Mr. Chamberlain had underestimated ******, who had served in the German Army as a Corporal, winning the Iron Cross during the last Great War!
****** was not afraid of war, but wanted to avenge the Treaty of Versailles and its punitive dictated peace;
And also establish for the superior German Aryan race a lasting Third *****!
Therefore, having consolidated his power as the Fuhrer along with his trusted **** Party cronies, he withdrew from the League of Nations in October 1933.
Introduced conscription in March 1935 in Germany, and embarked on a mission to rebuild a new modernised German Army for combat on land, air, and sea!
In March 1936, in another open violation of the Versailles Treaty, ****** re-occupied the demilitarised Rhineland, followed by a Treaty of Alliance with Japan and Italy.
The much desired Anschluss (or merger) with Austria, the country of birth of ******,
Saw the German Army in March 1938, triumphantly and peacefully marching into Vienna!
Now with the Munich Conference of 19 September 1938, this Policy of Appeasement is said to have reached its climatic peak!
The Sudetenland area, consisted of 3 million Germans were made
to join Czechoslovakia when the frontiers were drawn in 1918-19,
Much against the wishes of the Germans!
When ****** wanted to annex this Sudetenland area, Britain, France, Germany and Italy, met at Munich to diffuse an explosive situation peacefully.
It was agreed at Munich that once Sudetenland joins Germany, ****** will not invade Czechoslovakia and honour the terms of peace.
But on 15th March 1939, in violation of the Munich Agreement, ******’s army invade and occupied Czechoslovakia, thereby openly flouting the Policy of Appeasement!

NOTES: ******’s desire for ‘LEBENSRAUM’ or ‘increase of living space’ for the Germans, commenced with his ‘Border Wars’, which soon turned into a Global War because of the ‘appeasement policy’ of the Allies. ****** had secured his Eastern Front with a treaty with the Stalin, since fighting on two fronts would have been very difficult for the Germans.

Now when ******’s army invaded Poland on 1st of September 1939, it became ‘the last straw on the camel’s back’ for the Western Allies!
Committed to the Anglo-Polish Defence Pact of 25 August, 1939, both Britain and France declared war on Germany,
Which I propose to narrate in Part Two of my Second World War Story.  
The Policy of Appeasement no doubt gave some time for Britain, to regain its depleted military strength,  but Adolf ****** had viewed it as a sign of weakness!
With Russia and America initially as non-participants, ****** became more confident and arrogant!
Thereby turning his border wars into a global conflagration lasting six long years.
When the use of advanced technology, resulted in greater loss and casualties;  
Which was followed by the holocaust and unprecedented human suffering!
I would like to conclude my present narration with a poem by English soldier-poet Seigfried Sassoon, who participated in the First World War on the Western Front.

DREAMERS  -  by Siegfried Sassoon
Soldiers are citizens of death's gray land,
Drawing no dividend from time's to-morrows.
In the great hour of destiny they stand,
Each with his feuds, and jealousies, and sorrows.
Soldiers are sworn to action; they must win
Some flaming, fatal ****** with their lives.
Soldiers are dreamers; when the guns begin
They think of firelit homes, clean beds, and wives.

I see them in foul dug-outs, gnawed by rats,
And in the ruined trenches, lashed with rain,
Dreaming of things they did with ***** and bats,
And mocked by hopeless longing to regain
Bank-holidays, and picture shows, and spats,
And going to the office in the train.
…………………………………………………………………………
Thanks for reading patiently, from Raj Nandy of New Delhi.
  *ALL COPYRIGHTS ARE WITH THE AUTHOR ONLY

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warning hallowed wish closer lens turn eye live  constant current author hung theory dangle  bramble chemical new force changes adderall  anymore giving beneath possess pardon commentaries eternity internal walk reason  long change does idea glimpse consciousness  wandering simply wonder physical dreams war  sleep told rest benign prior begging truth little  2012 born tale crow bowels allegory animal rule  exasperate making horse curse hands ones read  rearrange capture doing command fail awake  aperture seedlings shift steely sir nap spead ****** demons slits clever telling loud spits la-la-di-dah killing slip game reflected nameless ask  lovers rabid bear salivate plunder shameless  famously savior mint rides menthol bully fate traded melodies play misunderstand mammals gentle witless fine utterly savage silt tongue-less  dirt dilutes pure non-sensory taste briefly ravage dismember it''ll shedding ruined curtain  knots offers plot fulfills munificent two-act  relegates boxz bug altruistic wintergreen tossing  callously guise grovels one's singers treachery ashes mid-life mutter fashion parading  ambiguity separatist liars staple steeping neath  guidelines scoffing stitch moans civil wrote  Fictitious undoing fables table effigies serve  sonnets staged remark psalm swoll praise harken  beggar verse bread lines heavily electricity detection snow sack-happy preaching credit  spotted wicked best gravity gun campaign owe  barge choir revelry celebratory satiated sinking  headline pack hound persistently propaganda  gentlemen excluding diminished ******* run idles  occupied levies wolfishly honestly misinformation cuba vehemently dumb grace spectator erasing  toned sage crowded secrets inter-connectivity  loaned prayer hymns grave mistaken magnified  vandals selective jump leak escapes says minister  buckle mass honesty shut tar children's hats  monument doping long-lived electrical ladle  exaggerated cartoons address seconds cool cradle bleak yang's mind-framed hypnotic  walker caps folly treble claim streaks mixtures  swelled interstate elapse teasing spoon mobile  succulent witchcraft borderline fatal 99 temple stacks sups plastics creeps neurotic ills tossed  meek sipping old crack interlock wax alleyway  coughing blown freak clock birthdays societies  slow flashing viscous candy argument toothless  pills cerebral rapt wall bisect lives wheezing  photo kid starter foiled pair saturated self-castrating pre-packed naked uncertainly pill  used came chaos coated reprisal fells wrack  irreverent mirth sickly disinherited proudest  collate wheeze appearance palette disharmony  discontented bastardized emotive bio inhale diction beat spoiled reclamation loudest tempo  totally disembodied matte imperfect shells flat  struck sounding imparts flak origin severance remarked bone walls snared leaflets mocking  hot scripting adjective noun agape seemingly  resistant gawk calamity passage paintings wind  trashcans signings sits cheap makers poetry persist scrap slipping individual talk wonders  leaving questions fold actor fancy parchment  fates engenders flown jaws stripped longer music  sacrifice fakers book boldly frown sigh atop patient hang trade occupation blows spectacular  whispers worthy backward waving certainty danced suppose needn't ‘drawkcab’ second-guessing  boys forget marched motto heads tightly lies two-tone earthbound harp twice turns goodnight  lying ***** internally indiscriminate nickname  drunk convictions myth steep  in-consumption  fitting artist **** universal sick expressions bad  du spell melody big siphon proud learn sprawls song spastic something temperaments utter check  fissures stomp totality blend definitely thrall sing rug voice shade pestilence ties commiserate round devil steady brains emotional certain gate  suckling gates dearth decay weight bounce pound  carrier pangs glass startle contest earthen web  tug pressed air patience flush amassed guest gone apprehension staring empathize captain believe fading in-perceivable deathbed guarder makes surrounds scatter drooling ebb blink cob tome  venom near door lair derision draws host stairs scent parts curiosities spider webbing surprise wares tips stepping ascetics starkness realize picture surroundings dictations grand pillars  deaf limited comparisons greet visual residents  personal settings dismiss alien law stability common earthly shiftless places prelude  understanding mosaic keen trifling embodiments  geared inception whisper visible jowls kiss murky  puddle rank dawn dichotomy single faithful fraying pays tailor veil climb mores pence whim  breath wellspring samara god stony pear  shadows fruiting forebodes moonlit looming  shown passed bog gold wracked faint tongues  noble preachers mirror shifting layered depth  threads jungle narcissus bemused seamstress self-worshiping architect's wore slumber anomalous  opened barren seam lip caustic scene coupled brick gardener's clenches -with forms idle breed  embodied lore 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You are what your reading lady. Now would you hold this gun?

I. The Door

Out of it steps our future, through this door
Enigmas, executioners and rules,
Her Majesty in a bad temper or
A red-nosed Fool who makes a fool of fools.

Great persons eye it in the twilight for
A past it might so carelessly let in,
A widow with a missionary grin,
The foaming inundation at a roar.

We pile our all against it when afraid,
And beat upon its panels when we die:
By happening to be open once, it made

Enormous Alice see a wonderland
That waited for her in the sunshine and,
Simply by being tiny, made her cry.

II. The Preparations

All had been ordered weeks before the start
From the best firms at such work: instruments
To take the measure of all queer events,
And drugs to move the bowels or the heart.

A watch, of course, to watch impatience fly,
Lamps for the dark and shades against the sun;
Foreboding, too, insisted on a gun,
And coloured beads to soothe a savage eye.

In theory they were sound on Expectation,
Had there been situations to be in;
Unluckily they were their situation:

One should not give a poisoner medicine,
A conjurer fine apparatus, nor
A rifle to a melancholic bore.

III. The Crossroads

Two friends who met here and embraced are gone,
Each to his own mistake; one flashes on
To fame and ruin in a rowdy lie,
A village torpor holds the other one,
Some local wrong where it takes time to die:
This empty junction glitters in the sun.

So at all quays and crossroads: who can tell
These places of decision and farewell
To what dishonour all adventure leads,
What parting gift could give that friend protection,
So orientated his vocation needs
The Bad Lands and the sinister direction?

All landscapes and all weathers freeze with fear,
But none have ever thought, the legends say,
The time allowed made it impossible;
For even the most pessimistic set
The limit of their errors at a year.
What friends could there be left then to betray,
What joy take longer to atone for; yet
Who could complete without the extra day
The journey that should take no time at all?

IV. The Traveler

No window in his suburb lights that bedroom where
A little fever heard large afternoons at play:
His meadows multiply; that mill, though, is not there
Which went on grinding at the back of love all day.

Nor all his weeping ways through weary wastes have found
The castle where his Greater Hallows are interned;
For broken bridges halt him, and dark thickets round
Some ruin where an evil heritage was burned.

Could he forget a child's ambition to be old
And institutions where it learned to wash and lie,
He'd tell the truth for which he thinks himself too young,

That everywhere on his horizon, all the sky,
Is now, as always, only waiting to be told
To be his father's house and speak his mother tongue.

V. The City

In villages from which their childhoods came
Seeking Necessity, they had been taught
Necessity by nature is the same
No matter how or by whom it be sought.

The city, though, assumed no such belief,
But welcomed each as if he came alone,
The nature of Necessity like grief
Exactly corresponding to his own.

And offered them so many, every one
Found some temptation fit to govern him,
And settled down to master the whole craft

Of being nobody; sat in the sun
During the lunch-hour round the fountain rim,
And watched the country kids arrive, and laughed.

VI. The First Temptation

Ashamed to be the darling of his grief,
He joined a gang of rowdy stories where
His gift for magic quickly made him chief
Of all these boyish powers of the air;

Who turned his hungers into Roman food,
The town's asymmetry into a park;
All hours took taxis; any solitude
Became his flattered duchess in the dark.

But, if he wished for anything less grand,
The nights came padding after him like wild
Beasts that meant harm, and all the doors cried Thief;

And when Truth had met him and put out her hand,
He clung in panic to his tall belief
And shrank away like an ill-treated child.

VII. The Second Temptation

His library annoyed him with its look
Of calm belief in being really there;
He threw away a rival's boring book,
And clattered panting up the spiral stair.

Swaying upon the parapet he cried:
"O Uncreated Nothing, set me free,
Now let Thy perfect be identified,
Unending passion of the Night, with Thee."

And his long-suffering flesh, that all the time
Had felt the simple cravings of the stone
And hoped to be rewarded for her climb,

Took it to be a promise when he spoke
That now at last she would be left alone,
And plunged into the college quad, and broke.

VIII. The Third Temptation

He watched with all his organs of concern
How princes walk, what wives and children say,
Re-opened old graves in his heart to learn
What laws the dead had died to disobey,

And came reluctantly to his conclusion:
"All the arm-chair philosophies are false;
To love another adds to the confusion;
The song of mercy is the Devil's Waltz."

All that he put his hand to prospered so
That soon he was the very King of creatures,
Yet, in an autumn nightmare trembled, for,

Approaching down a ruined corridor,
Strode someone with his own distorted features
Who wept, and grew enormous, and cried Woe.

IX. The Tower

This is an architecture for the old;
Thus heaven was attacked by the afraid,
So once, unconsciously, a ****** made
Her maidenhead conspicuous to a god.

Here on dark nights while worlds of triumph sleep
Lost Love in abstract speculation burns,
And exiled Will to politics returns
In epic verse that makes its traitors weep.

Yet many come to wish their tower a well;
For those who dread to drown, of thirst may die,
Those who see all become invisible:

Here great magicians, caught in their own spell,
Long for a natural climate as they sigh
"Beware of Magic" to the passer-by.

X. The Presumptuous

They noticed that virginity was needed
To trap the unicorn in every case,
But not that, of those virgins who succeeded,
A high percentage had an ugly face.

The hero was as daring as they thought him,
But his peculiar boyhood missed them all;
The angel of a broken leg had taught him
The right precautions to avoid a fall.

So in presumption they set forth alone
On what, for them, was not compulsory,
And stuck half-way to settle in some cave
With desert lions to domesticity,

Or turned aside to be absurdly brave,
And met the ogre and were turned to stone.

XI. The Average

His peasant parents killed themselves with toil
To let their darling leave a stingy soil
For any of those fine professions which
Encourage shallow breathing, and grow rich.

The pressure of their fond ambition made
Their shy and country-loving child afraid
No sensible career was good enough,
Only a hero could deserve such love.

So here he was without maps or supplies,
A hundred miles from any decent town;
The desert glared into his blood-shot eyes,
The silence roared displeasure:
looking down,
He saw the shadow of an Average Man
Attempting the exceptional, and ran.

XII. Vocation

Incredulous, he stared at the amused
Official writing down his name among
Those whose request to suffer was refused.

The pen ceased scratching: though he came too late
To join the martyrs, there was still a place
Among the tempters for a caustic tongue

To test the resolution of the young
With tales of the small failings of the great,
And shame the eager with ironic praise.

Though mirrors might be hateful for a while,
Women and books would teach his middle age
The fencing wit of an informal style,
To keep the silences at bay and cage
His pacing manias in a worldly smile.

XIII. The Useful

The over-logical fell for the witch
Whose argument converted him to stone,
Thieves rapidly absorbed the over-rich,
The over-popular went mad alone,
And kisses brutalised the over-male.

As agents their importance quickly ceased;
Yet, in proportion as they seemed to fail,
Their instrumental value was increased
For one predestined to attain their wish.

By standing stones the blind can feel their way,
Wild dogs compel the cowardly to fight,
Beggars assist the slow to travel light,
And even madmen manage to convey
Unwelcome truths in lonely gibberish.

XIV. The Way

Fresh addenda are published every day
To the encyclopedia of the Way,

Linguistic notes and scientific explanations,
And texts for schools with modernised spelling and illustrations.

Now everyone knows the hero must choose the old horse,
Abstain from liquor and ****** *******,

And look out for a stranded fish to be kind to:
Now everyone thinks he could find, had he a mind to,

The way through the waste to the chapel in the rock
For a vision of the Triple Rainbow or the Astral Clock,

Forgetting his information comes mostly from married men
Who liked fishing and a flutter on the horses now and then.

And how reliable can any truth be that is got
By observing oneself and then just inserting a Not?

XV. The Lucky

Suppose he'd listened to the erudite committee,
He would have only found where not to look;
Suppose his terrier when he whistled had obeyed,
It would not have unearthed the buried city;
Suppose he had dismissed the careless maid,
The cryptogram would not have fluttered from the book.

"It was not I," he cried as, healthy and astounded,
He stepped across a predecessor's skull;
"A nonsense jingle simply came into my head
And left the intellectual Sphinx dumbfounded;
I won the Queen because my hair was red;
The terrible adventure is a little dull."

Hence Failure's torment: "Was I doomed in any case,
Or would I not have failed had I believed in Grace?"

XVI. The Hero

He parried every question that they hurled:
"What did the Emperor tell you?" "Not to push."
"What is the greatest wonder of the world?"
"The bare man Nothing in the Beggar's Bush."

Some muttered: "He is cagey for effect.
A hero owes a duty to his fame.
He looks too like a grocer for respect."
Soon they slipped back into his Christian name.

The only difference that could be seen
From those who'd never risked their lives at all
Was his delight in details and routine:

For he was always glad to mow the grass,
Pour liquids from large bottles into small,
Or look at clouds through bits of coloured glass.

XVII. Adventure

Others had found it prudent to withdraw
Before official pressure was applied,
Embittered robbers outlawed by the Law,
Lepers in terror of the terrified.

But no one else accused these of a crime;
They did not look ill: old friends, overcome,
Stared as they rolled away from talk and time
Like marbles out into the blank and dumb.

The crowd clung all the closer to convention,
Sunshine and horses, for the sane know why
The even numbers should ignore the odd:

The Nameless is what no free people mention;
Successful men know better than to try
To see the face of their Absconded God.

XVIII. The Adventurers

Spinning upon their central thirst like tops,
They went the Negative Way towards the Dry;
By empty caves beneath an empty sky
They emptied out their memories like slops,

Which made a foul marsh as they dried to death,
Where monsters bred who forced them to forget
The lovelies their consent avoided; yet,
Still praising the Absurd with their last breath,

They seeded out into their miracles:
The images of each grotesque temptation
Became some painter's happiest inspiration,

And barren wives and burning virgins came
To drink the pure cold water of their wells,
And wish for beaux and children in their name.

XIX. The Waters

Poet, oracle, and wit
Like unsuccessful anglers by
The ponds of apperception sit,
Baiting with the wrong request
The vectors of their interest,
At nightfall tell the angler's lie.

With time in tempest everywhere,
To rafts of frail assumption cling
The saintly and the insincere;
Enraged phenomena bear down
In overwhelming waves to drown
Both sufferer and suffering.

The waters long to hear our question put
Which would release their longed-for answer, but.

**. The Garden

Within these gates all opening begins:
White shouts and flickers through its green and red,
Where children play at seven earnest sins
And dogs believe their tall conditions dead.

Here adolescence into number breaks
The perfect circle time can draw on stone,
And flesh forgives division as it makes
Another's moment of consent its own.

All journeys die here: wish and weight are lifted:
Where often round some old maid's desolation
Roses have flung their glory like a cloak,

The gaunt and great, the famed for conversation
Blushed in the stare of evening as they spoke
And felt their centre of volition shifted.

The summer I interned in New York, I fell in love with someone I'd only seen from a balcony window.

I'd fallen in love with strangers before, on buses and in lines, watching their shoulders straighten and their faces grimace in half-sunlight. I fell in love with these people the way you could fall in love with a poem, finding personality in the way that their eyes flicker nervously from left to right, tiny instances where their stanzas throw you into a daze. But this time was different. For once, I wished to know a stranger without the brim of my sunglasses, for once I felt something when I knew I'd never see him again.

His apartment was cluttered, bottles of water and the empty cans of energy drinks piled in a corner where a conscious person would have fit them in a bin. There were clothes on the floor, and although I knew his high rise box was laid out just as mine, he must have used the expected closet space for something else - his clothes were everywhere, crumpled in heaps on the floor that were too erratically placed to not have some sort of lingering system. Posters of people were taped to the wall, covering the matte eggshell white, edges falling occasionally to show signs that he wouldn’t always live there. I hoped that if he ever owned a home, that those staring portraits would be stapled or pasted thick to his walls, just because he would be the sort of person who wouldn’t change his mind about what he liked or what he wanted.

I would watch him from the same eggshell white room of mine, with nothing on the walls and not a scrap of anything on the floor. From my blow up mattress to my suitcase of clothes, kitchen stocked of single servings and a solitary set of dishware. I had no curtains and no carpets, no television or pictures of friends huddled in an unexpected embrace. For all anyone knew, I could have been squatting. I would look out at him from the window spanning the entire north facing wall, aware that if he ever looked out, if his eyes ever darted south, he would see me cross legged on the tiled marble floor, hovering over an overheated laptop and cardboard coffee.

I would get home at seven forty-five, shower in the New York water that tasted like dust and gin, and towel off, walking to the balcony. He, just like I, had a long, narrow balcony spanning about four feet on the right edge of his loft, and I would lean on the edge of the concrete slab, smelling the foul city air, taxi music floating from the lumpy yellow marsh below. That was when he would unlock his door suddenly, sometime between eight and eight-ten. He would step with his entire body and move into his crowded room and stand still for a moment, as if to collect himself; restrain from tearing faces off the walls and pummeling fabric into the floor. Sometimes he'd shut the door closed with a twitch of his foot, untying the half apron around his waist with one hand and pulling the red tie strapped flat onto a black dress shirt loose with the other. Once, he did all that in succession and proceeded to slide against the shut door until he hit the ground, falling into himself like a dropped jack's ladder and rubbing his fingers from his jawline to his eyes, up into his hair and back over.

But most of the time, he would just force off his shoes, never untying the laces, and move to the balcony just as I did. He would go out to the balcony too, but he would always keep going, moving to sit on the edge of the short wall, socked feet dangling over the city. His legs would be splayed wide, hands placed right in front of him, flat on the ledge. He would look down at the golden sea below, and when he was done with it, spit a flickering cigarette into the glittering bank.

He would also smoke when he woke up. He got up at six, like clockwork, and would stumble back out into the smogged pilot's seat in a plaid bathrobe, hazy faced and staring down. I don’t think he was ever late. He would get dressed slowly and fix himself in the mirror for a good half hour at the left of his room, until finally turning around just to watch the door for a moment. Sometimes I could swear that he watched for so long that he must have thought it would up and race away.

He slept with the lights on. He never came home late. He didn’t go out at night, never blundered in at two in the morning with a lithe model girl, long hair framing icicle eyes. On weekends he would sleep all day, rising every few hours to go back on the edge of his balcony and smoke. He would stare at the faces on his walls, the callouses on his palms, the murmur below; but never, ever at the empty loft across the way, dotted with a blue plastic bed and a speck of a person.

I left New York in September, on a red eye flight vastly cheaper than the rest. I put my toothbrush and toothpaste into the front pocket of my luggage, squeezed the air out of my mattress, and left. I hadn't left a trace in that home of mine, and it didn’t leave any on me either. When I left New York, I felt nothing. It was almost like I had never set foot in the city, forgetting to socialize with the locals the way someone could leave their hat at a bar.

I never knew if the man across the canyon hated coming home to a loft like I did. I wondered if it bothered him too, the lack of walls or rooms to compartmentalize the space. I wondered if he didn’t like to eat at home, if he felt sick when he watched the sunrise. I wondered if when he looked at the tidepooled city, if he also saw salvation. If he wondered every day from eight to eight-ten about what a dangly thing of a human would seem like to the loft across if it was spit from the edge of a narrow, four foot balcony.

Exaggerated tears, overreacted feelings
Only for a love that interned you in pains.
You’ll never die if someone will be apart,
For there’s always love after a broken heart.

You can’t blame if the oceans left the sea;
Truth may hurt but it will only set you free.
The remedy is only up there for your scars,
And there’s always hope after a broken heart.

There’s always a lesson for every mistake,
Find that one redolent reason to breathe.
You can’t bring back the fire with a spark,
But there’s always life after a broken heart.

Rake-thin Humble hoes subsistence soil
Planting green-topped onion bulbs,
Camino divides the field forcing Humble's Husband

To till distantly, he works slower, and is of bulbous girth,
A red Reebok shirt adorns his back whilst she
Wears the hand-me-downs her grandmother had worn.

Their house is built of stone like bone,
Ground-sewn and dug fresh centuries before,
No siestas punctuate their endeavors.

Passing pilgrims groan under weight of sack -
Whilst Humble counts the years before her bones
Are interned in preparation to shelter future generations.

A Scots fashion student has been snapped up by design house Calvin Klein after impressing them with his stylish menswear collection.

The Glasgow School of Art already counts leading fashion designers Louise Gray, Pam Hogg and Jonathan Saunders amongst its celebrated former-students.

Now final year fashion design student Jonathan Douglas, 24, from Ballater, has been added to this illustrious list after being plucked by the US clothing company following an interview with them in January.

Jonathan who showcased his designs alongside ten other students from his course said: “I was told by email that after I graduate I will relocate to Amsterdam to work for Tommy Hilfiger Calvin Klein as part of their first ever European graduate creative programme. I was really excited but I’ve just tried to remain calm and continue to work on things for the show today.”

Jonathan can’t wait to live in Amsterdam to spend ten months with each label, then look at the business side of things.

He said: “My aim was to work for a global brand that had a truly global reach because as a designer it will push me to learn about fashion as a global industry. Tommy Hilfiger and Calvin Klein have always been labels with a true heritage that I’ve admired and they always try to innovate as well.”

He added: “The beauty about fashion is that you can travel, there are no boundaries and there are different people with different cultures - and fashion translates across that.”

Jonathan, who has a business degree, and has interned for Victoria Beckham, Carolina Herrera and Lacoste, was also awarded a schools and colleges British Fashion Council and Top Man award earlier this year.

He said of his fashion: “It’s quite creative but still staying within menswear silhouettes.

“It’s a contemporary menswear collection, forward thinking with clean line silhouettes contrasting with crazy textures. I’ve used foiling, hand painting with silicon paint and collaborated with print design too. It’s quite monochromatic. I think we are encouraged here to push the boundaries of our designs and think outside the box a bit because we don’t want to create something that has been produced before.”

Amongst his more adventurous pieces, Jonathan has designed a see through lightweight top with silicon painted shorts.

But despite his new job with a major label Jonathan isn’t planning to get his designs places on the latest celebrities.

He explained: “I’m not a big celeb fan. It’s a great way to promote fashion but it’s not my main focus.”Read more here:www.marieaustralia.com/red-formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/white-formal-dresses

it dawned on me as i
brushed my teeth this
cold and frigid Sunday morning
that Christianity is predicated on
caricatures of morality and desiccated
imagery guilt-tripping and manipulating
the emotionally malleable with sycophantic
fantasies of sempiternal enmity
simmering infernally within dogmatic
magma melting mundane minds

we aren't made in the
image of the invisible
and the more i study
the face looking back
in the mirror i can't seem
to find a single similarity
between you and me

you've spent nearly fifty years
in service to a deity Nietzsche buried
half a century bent-kneed but
somehow i'm the one who
needs to try an open mind

in the face of such
deafening and deadly hypocrisy
is it any surprise i rose
in revolt against this
putrid apparatus of control

it's sad
you see
you fancy yourself an image
of the Nazarene but you're
so unlike your savior
a Sadducee dancing like a cobra
to the whimsical melodies of
snake-oil peddlers so

by all means
pray for me
the clouds can't hear
your desperate pleas this
galaxy is apathetic to our
finite and fragile existence
a momentary blip on the radar of
a fourteen billion year old universe

yet you possess the audacity
to believe an intergalactic being
instilled you with predestiny so
you can judge and condemn just
like the villains in
your beloved fairy tales

tell me the truth
do you even read
the lines of red bled
across the ancient pages
of your gospels or do
you just pretend that
Jesus said whatever
makes you happy

clearly you fancy yourself
the center of the universe but
as much as i hate to be
the bearer of bad news
the world revolves around the sun
not the Son of Man

i'd rather brave the depths of hell
than grovel before your
narcissistic King of Kings
i will never beg for
you to forgive me
i freed my mind and like
a canary in a coal mine i'm
insistently pointing towards the exit
so crucify me if you will
even you couldn't escape the irony

abandon your holy text for works
of art and philosophy and science
your scriptures are a tale
told by an idiot
full of sound and fury
signifying nothing

i will not relent in my
blasphemous semantics
nor repent for my perceived iniquity
your Christ is interned within
an unmarked grave outside Jerusalem  
and before long now we
will all join him
though admittedly not in
the fashion you'd imagined

there is no feast prepared
for my inevitable homecoming
so keep your ring
a golden band reminding
those who read the
anthologies of history of
property and slavery

i'll deny until i die
i won't bind my mind to
your tepid theology
i am not the prodigal son

There are cuts and bruises no one sees.
Hurt between the kisses you give to please.

At first we met your affection seemed so deep.
You overwhelmed me into my love sleep.
Adoration was given to and in return.
You found your saviour, but soon your heart would turn.

I was a white knight on a tall hill.
I was happy & confident, I was never still.
My armour was silver, my helm in gold.
I had even become brave and bold.

You were a Princess in a dark cage.
Little did I know it was made by your rage.
Your past full of monsters and a traitor.
How I would regret not seeing the truth until much later.

I came forward and shone a light on the key.
I told you, that you were brave and strong and to let yourself be free.
Joined together burning bright.
I never knew being with someone else could feel so right.

Our love was passion, a blazing fire.
Any sorrow, I thought, was left on the pyre.
But when love burns bright, a lesson learnt.
The greater a love, the easier it is to get burnt.

When some had been hurt to their very core.
It is true, that love, they can accept no more.
A dark side of your character, you kept all too hidden.
Your deepest heart I was kept out and forbidden.
For how can you truly love without being vulnerable.
Meanwhile my love for you was unassailable.

The first few cuts I knew!
Why would you do this?
Even if it was but a few.
When I raised my voice at what was amiss,
You calmed my doubts and sealed them away with a kiss.

For a while all was fine.
But the cuts came again, one at a time.
It was wrong, it was wrong, this I knew.
But my love for you just kept saying; it is all but a few.
You only hurt me like this, when you felt scared and alone.
All would be fine, I said, as long as you knew I was your own.

Any query or doubt that came to my mind.
You brushed it aside for me never to find.
Cuts came deeper than ever before.
Yet I protected you from all others, even as I became sore.

My friends and family, you pushed them away.
By subtle pressure or by storms a-fray.
Again and again, I was never enough.
So you cut me and bruised me and treated me rough.
Never a mark you left on my clear skin.
But inside you tore me apart until I  became thin.

My armour that you once found so bright.
You pointed out every mark and scratch in sight.
Chip, chip away at my very soul.
Because it was all about you at every toll.

You broke my sword and shattered my shield.
Diminished and weakened you cast me on the field.
The monsters you had ran from, were all inside.
They came out to greet me and wash me away with the tide.

You were like a vast ocean, a passionate storm.
But you were wide and shallow, not deep in form.
I stood and I stood amongst the swell.
But what ever I did it could never end well.

You told me of all the people who had let you down,
But battered and broken I still held up your crown,
But in the end the dark empty place inside,
No love could fill it, no matter how hard I tried.

You walked away- back to your cage, saying it was never right.
But what happened to your fair and wonderful knight.
Laying in his armour broken and battered.
So came forth his friends and his family and everyone who mattered.
They took it all away to heal his heart,
But all they found was ash at the start.

As they held the ash in their hands,
An ember they found in the black sands.
They protected it from wind and the storm.
Hoping against hope that one day their knight would be reborn.

At first the light was still.
Twice it nearly flickered to nil.
But caring patience won the day,
With love and protection a spark lit up the grey.
First once and then twice, before born again a tender flame.
Silently in the darkness they whispered his secret name.
The little flame that was lit,
Still fragile and ready to quit.
But with every passing hour,
Little flame rose taller like a tower.
After countless time as a little light,
It Turned to the stars and shone bright,
A blazing fire lighting up the night.

From the shadowed prison bound,
A dark thing wept without a sound.
The fair knight stood once more on a hill.
A blazing light that stood still.
Through the darkness of its own veil,
The creature sat interned and pale.
Waiting for her new knight,
Or a monster she could blame with spite.
All the while she hid her eyes,
Knowing not to look up into the skies.
For high above stood a knight so bright,
His world no longer a terrible blight.
Surrounded by friends, love and glory.
This is the truth, my life, my story.

anxiety guillotine, hanging
from a thread, suspended above
my sunburnt neck. i'm utterly spent.
another day, back bent in the stocks,
latched in for the Kafka-esque:

carnivalesque body-horror.
shovel white-hot daggers
beneath finger-nail keratin.
bite my tongue off with police-tape teeth.
sadist, savor my godless screams.

drawn and quartered. send my limbs
to the map's furthest corners.
horseflies' aborted eggs
nest amidst maggot-infested
intestines, dangerously dangling.

turn my frown upside down.
stick a razor-blade
in my mouth
and pull 'till i grin
like chelsea.

interned within an unmarked grave,
save for the cairn made from the same stones
i flung myself upon from a great height. a wave
dashed against the rocks, endlessly rebuffed—
the sea's clairvoyance couldn't budge the boulder.

I knew this man because I was this man
So it must be said; I was this man because I knew this man
And never did I faultier when he reached with his trusting hand
Bound by intent, his grip stowed the tension of promise and fruition
His is a lifetime laden with the cogs of internal creation
This is the summons, the congenial placement of his offer
Beckoning the self to again be rendered upon the plane of the psychotropic wood
Through this sanctified exchange the divergent union assumes singular being
A spiral of fleeting connectivity, lapsing as the hesitant tide breaks upon neither shore nor sea
So the invitation reciprocates moment to moment by way of residual eternity
The soul twists and skips in both agony and ecstasy
Bearing a jagged tolerance for lingering wait and the flash of re-entry
Thus begun my endless stroll within the confinement of mind
I am birthed each day anew in the cradling mist blanketing the forest floor
With shy eyes one surrenders to this emergent rim
Sentenced to wake beneath the towering monoliths, the fossil redwoods
Who lull my attentive ear with the ambient groans of their interned memory
Joined in chorus only by the hushed breathe of the creborus crows
These birds, these deities hung inverted from gray and rotted limbs
Whispering their imbuement to the aggregate dirge of pardon
This is the swallowing of supposed sensory
Set in impetus, this final paradigm may forever possess the gift of awareness.

Yes you have that I bet.
Sit with the interned, let it caress you
all the while it ***** the time away
straight from your internal clock
along with neurons
social and family relationships
so much time
What the ******* guys
you'll die with no memory
of ever living.
Think about that.

On this morning
bleak midwinter of '44
in Heart Mountain, Wyoming,
heartland of America,
Nyogen Senzaki Sensei
performed to his makeshift
congregation of interned Japanese
and Japanese-Americans
the duties of a priest.
He chanted sonorously
mindful of the dark outside
the mirror-like windows
of the barracks. "Wonder
of all Wonders. All beings
are Buddha, endowed
from the start with wisdom
   and virtue."

What can be added, what
taken away, we will never leave
this place, it lives in us
like a mother's embrace.
They thought with one mind
quietly and not without sadness.

When it was all over
they had tea
and went there separate ways.

On this morning.

of chocolate moons,
dried, well-preserved seascapes,
A-Tisket, A-Tasket
none of which he had ever seen,
understood,
but nonsense alliteration garners
fast and vast attention of the interned masses,
for somehow easier to comprehend
the silly notions of what does not exist,
chocolate moons, dried, well preserved,
museum-quality wet seascapes and word-plays
that require no Hail Mary passes or penitence

so let us rose compose of frosted flaked flowers
of folklorish hobgoblins,
ice cream coated,
of Crunch 'n Munch Sweet Gourmet Popcorn,
a ConAgra "Food" grown only on
Arizona highway-crossed landscapes,
where babies, snatched from above, into moving cars,
taken from, then to, the lost and found
of kidnapped earthlings
are awaiting your reading pleasure

if nonsense pleases,
nonsense scrip'd and delivered,
all we aim for is temple offerings
of what crowd-pleases,
around the tepee fire
we peyote ancestor tales
mostly glorified white men's defeats, legitimized,
ignoring the concentration camp existence and
USDA excess garbage food,
a god, with love, delivers

the components of sewing needles,
a hole and a little sliver of silvered steel,
stitch word worshipping poets into frenzies
of imagined images that cake bake the crowds
with football arena'd pleasures,
their brains all the while,
being measured for a casket,
A-Tisket, A-Tasket,
this poem making
perfect sense to those
who sleep no more

Somebody once told me
no matter what you say -
if you believe it to be true -
speak it with volume
My junior year of high school
I interned for a week
teaching English to middle schoolers
they were working on the creative writing unit
classrooms covered in posters which read things like
no tears in the writer, no tears in the reader
and other good inspirational stuff
some of the kids wrote poems
others wrote short stories
others wrote I don’t know whats
but they all told a story which to them
was an essential truth of life
just waiting to be heard
and when they got up
to share in front of the class
from the shy girl in the soccer shoes
to the tall joker
they all spoke with volume
because some things
are impossible to ignore

Over the years I stop at that point
only to board a vessel
to the other side of the river
for further journey to the sea
but for the brief period of waiting
I keep pondering about the name of the place

Harwood Point.

Who was this Harwood?
what was he doing here?
what good deed made him deserving
to name the place after him?

I am still baffled
after a quarter of a century.

Googling throws up many Harwoods
dead and distinguished
but there's no clue to connect any of them with
Harwood Point.

I imagine he was one of the administrators
who left the shore of England
to be stationed at this place a century or two ago
then a tract of almost inaccessible jungle
for surveying the prospects of trade
for the East India Company
but that leads me to further questions.

Was he a noble soul that loved the place
and came to like the people there
so much so that the natives after his departure
made his name permanently etched there?

Or was he among those typical British Officers
who vented their wrath for having been interned
to a god forsaken mangrove wilderness
treated the natives with extreme disdain
proving himself worthy of his position
and duly rewarded by his masters
by making him a part of history
ironically undefined and unrecorded.

I love to think though
on a night when the moon
made the tide rebellious
he walked into the river
and was lost for good
and to this day none knows for sure
what happened to Mr. Harwood.

Today as I read about the vandalizing and the bomb threats I feel, no realize that may be as important as ever.

       I Am Jewish

I read about

An upgrade of the Jewish hate

To say nothing of the Jewish state:

Renewal and revival

That makes the Jew a rival

Present and eternal.


Pressed anew

To say “I am a Jew”

Interned in worlds of other faiths,

Each based

On love

But peopled by

A fractured many

Filled with fractured understanding,

Wear my Star of David,

Feel the coming holidays

With childhood love of coming days,

As always,

Living with those few-ish

Who know also that they’re Jewish,

Forced by some upbringing me,

Living, as I always have in lands where I, minority

Forget, neglect, omit so easily

My true identity:

I am become the Jew I’m born to be.


I Am Jewish 10.17.2016

To The Child Mystic II; Pure Nakedness;

Arlene Corwin

While he was in the alchemical session with Valekiria with the ***** lushness in the veins of his beloved, he felt instantly the arrival of some mounts. Etréstles, goes out and looks around the store and makes sure that Alexander the Great's entourage was there. I brought him a letter. Etréstles alerts Mardiath and the others. As the General pulls out his Leonatus, he dismounts and approaches the tent where his chief commander Vernarth was. He sees him surrounded by probes, which were like branches inserted by his right pectoral and his main veins.

Alexander the Great says:

Khaire, "I wish you joy" my great Commander Vernarth ...!!. He raises his hands, clicking with his hands to scatter some tiny earrings, to grind them on his face, they were sent by the Falangists, paying homage to him. They were like pieces of the horse's leashes with gold fillets that they ripped with the hooves of the cavalry from the armor of the bruised containers. With the tips of his fingers up his face and his hands up he appealed the presence of Zeus, and then bowed.

The last time I saw your individual, we had alternated to see the enormous over-proportioned bravery that Vernarth imposed on the battle. Here you arranged your army so that we could face everywhere, forming a large rectangle that we could face attacks from anywhere. I saw millions of Arrows fall on our army, I paid attention to you, your Lord Vernarth, who went with your wounded right breastplate, also semi hanging your Hoplite breastplate. You had legs and shoulders with impostor arrows that did not detract you from continuing with the ****** ramming of the enemy infants who were incapable of you. You mounted Alikanto and with all the momentum in an act of extreme madness you ravaged the insistent enemy ranks. There was the last great moment that I could see about your great courage and bravery to decapitate the enemy troops. Today we have defeated and I will go after Darío after his flight, which is what the world did behind him who should never have dared against our alliance with our army.

Vernarth replies:
All plunged into the Dorus and Xiphos with their multiple ****** edges, like a new blood alliance that must provide us with a new life beyond our deaths. In the hand of the blacksmith forger will reside the new lands where we have to implement new expeditions.

Brisehal, my Dog of Lut, embarrassed his ambitions to tarnish our designs. Now on the plain there are signs of panic, that only He infused on the bodies unscathed by the Falangists, they are witnesses of our daring and of the wild rebellion that caused the flight of the Achaemenides. On the glory that I do not stop aspiring, I will go to my hopes of meeting my ancestors in paradise, I have to gratify my great brotherhood to the kingdom of creation that boils through the great chimneys of the universe separating the own faculties from the power of true love , that make us coexist with our arms and legs without it being anything clearer than the footprint of the shadows, more exceptional than the same that others must thank with love to represent under all the limits that exceed the upper limits.
Alexander the Great embraces him and honors him with his battalion. His comrade Hephaestion dispenses the liturgy and dedicates a war song chanted by one hundred Hoplites plus the inclusion of his figure on the Hellenic banner to always be part of the military emblem arc of all the Greek armies and the coming social class. The Liturgy begins for a great commander and a good soldier who inherited new lands. Not only because the greed of the enemies could not be hidden, but mainly because he worked the land, which was a school of virtue for the veteran, in which he acquired the qualities of vigilance, strength and justice that form the basis of the military spirit with honors.

Hoplites say: with the General's voice in unison Khaire !!, “We wish you joy”. Our lord Vernarth eternal life. He will never forget, and he will remain enrolled in this life and the other all this feat, as a great soldier and comrade, who will also be the father of our family, out of concern to preserve the freedom of all of us, who will now be ours in the good reason to fight.

Hephaestion proclaims: Same nation and age with my lord Alexander the Great. As a Macedonian aristocrat and a Macedonian general noble. I do not see another certainty when we know your greatest skill in all the works that will be sculpted in our monuments. Today we must before your divine figure, of our credit to compensate all those who will swallow history before the same people as their own bite. Aristotle will grant volumes to refer to Vernarth in his history as a contribution of Helenofilo hero and all the jargon involving the new and unpublished diet of the poetics of the Greek world.


In the third part of the noon, when a voluminous day the most underlined epithets of the homage to the greatest commander of Alexander the Great increased; all would leave to continue the investigation of Darío III. In the store were Mardiath and Etréstles faithfully accompanying them along with his wife Valekiria.


The Parapsychological session resumes:

While Vernarth was in the hands of the Medical Medium, they kept their narrations attentive, which his assistant recorded and took note of the most relevant. To know more about his incessant chronicles. Countless journalists and people in the field of information were already stationed there near the building, all shocked by the reputation that this unusual parapsychological event had taken, before the clinical, political, cultural and news media.

Ellipsis Vernarth in Berlin, Germany - April 16, 1945:

Vernarth was paying attention to Reichstag defenders April 16, 1945. As he walked between the cross-shootings of the Wehrmacht and Allied sides. He walked in between the Battle of Berlin, which was the last major battle in Europe during World War II. It began on April 16, 1945 after the start of a major Soviet Union offensive on the capital city of the Third *****, and ended on May 2, 1945, when German defenders surrendered in the city to the Red Army. That full ability allowed Vernarth to interrelate inter-war situations of a political / warlike nature, as for this stage that remained to be reported. Now it was already in Germany occupied by the Soviet army. And to be able to continue living intensely in this way the marks and vestiges of the bullets of heavy caliber, which would be of great historical boast for future civilizations and their socio-political criticism, which still follow these marks of bullets in all the generations of this great Nation.

"On January 12, 1945, the Red Army entered German territory during the Vistula-Oder offensive and advanced westward at great speed, up to forty kilometers a day, entering Eastern Prussia, Lower and Upper Silesia and Eastern Pomerania, to a stop sixty kilometers east of Berlin, on a German defensive line along the Oder River. When the offensive resumed, two Soviet fronts - army groups - attacked Berlin from positions to the east and south, while a third attacked German positions to the north of the city. The first preparations to defend the outskirts of Berlin began on March 20, when the newly appointed commander of Army Group Vistula, General Gotthard Heinrici, correctly anticipated that the bulk of Soviet troops would cross the Oder River. Before the start of the battle of Berlin, the Soviets managed to surround the city thanks to their victories in the battles of the Seelow and Halbe hills. On April 16, 1945, the First Belarusian Front led by Marshal of the Soviet Union Gueorgui Zhúkov began to bombard central Berlin, while the First Ukrainian Front led by Marshal Ivan Kónev, pushed south to the remains of the Army Group Center. The German defenders were led primarily by Helmuth Weidling, and consisted of exhausted, ill-equipped, and disorganized divisions of the Wehrmacht and Waffen-SS, to which many joined. Thousands of Russian cannons bombed day and night, air control Russian was total, the avenues were at the expense of fanatical Waffen SS, totally Blocked ”.

Vernarth, was crossed by means of the Reichstag, and was parapet taking a German machine gun to harass Soviet soldiers, who only used it to protect himself, limiting that he was neutral. Then he disappeared into the hills and kept his distance, only seeing the immense fires that were trying to take over a dominated city. The Reichstag building was located in the already abandoned Tiergarten district, in the Mitte district of Berlin, the capital of Germany. Where he was just interned with the combatants, and in order not to be captured he served the side that received him unequivocally.

Thousands of Russian cannon bombed day and night, Russian air control was complete, the avenues were at the expense of Waffen SS fanatics and blocked. Vernarth was crossed by means of heavy transport vehicles and mortar and cannon bombs, until cornered in some skirmishes and colossal ruins. Where he manages to escape and heads to the Hotel Adlon, a great palace of kaiseres and authorities of the great bourgeoisie. Here he manages to reside and finally escape crossing borders without knowing, thinking about going to Munich and crossing other borders, perhaps disdain to join the allied side and serve as a spy.

To be continued, under edition

we did not ask for change but still it came
with waving banner and in angry shout
for then our people showed not calm nor tame
but like a flood after long years of drought
that was the moment when the word was rage
that marked the turning of the ancient page
when cities smouldered and when fields were burned
governors fled and parliaments adjourned
in such a time the truth must come in play
the sacred hour of those who once were spurned
who come from darkness into proper day

no one expects the world will stay the same
nor that the light will once again go out
now that all eyes have seen its cheery flame
and minds have been resolved from fear and doubt
by understanding of the proper wage
now to be gained and nothing will assuage
the incensed feelings of the hearts that turned
truly to freedom as the wild waves churned
on the bright shore and we saw the array
of those once vanished who had now returned
who come from darkness into proper day

the story now is not a silly game
nor is it simply nonsense that we spout
about the ending of all hate and shame
now that the old injustice is thrown out
and a new order walks upon the stage
when ordinary folk may shape the age
a better land may some day be discerned
where each achieves the honest pay they earned
and plain respect when their dark hair turns grey
both simple things as far as we're concerned
who come from darkness into proper day

prince we apologise you were interned
your titles stripped and your petitions spurned
your words ignored and servants gone away
but we are with some other things concerned
who come from darkness into proper day

we are all knights errant
chipping at the gilded armor
of tyrants and overlords
with rusty swords
doing little more
than tilting at windmills
and howling at a world
with hands clamped
tight over its deafened ears
and lids clenched shut
to block out the fears
of insignificance
the years of feigned ignorance
when we knew all along
we've no one to blame
for the hand we've been dealt
we'll all get the hell that we've built

raging at the moon and stars
eternally pushing boulders
up the slopes of mountains
just to watch them roll back down

nothing we do will be remembered
our lives like the dying light
of seven billion supernovae
burning in unison

a universe without masters and slaves
awaits us all beyond the grave
when our bones disintegrate
and carry us away from this place
a globe we bathed in blood and toxins

no gods to welcome us into the fold
no shepherd searching for his lost flock
each of us a footnote to a fourteen billion
year old explosion that split the veil
of life asunder

salvation is flirting with death
knowing she still haunts
our every footstep
life is defying illusory deities
raising the bird
to an apathetic horizon

we will all be forgotten
dismantled and interned in disrepair
atoms fractured and drifting apart
distant as two motes of dust
in this ever-expanding cosmos

yet still we endure
for though none can contend
with the factions that rend our planet
we are all dying super-giants
refusing to go quietly
into the last goodnight
for if we are all made of star-stuff
what can we do but combust

well before dawn
bats her eyelashes
at a yawning horizon
i claw my way free
emerging from six feet under

burgeoning with fingernails
still caked in dirt from ceaseless digging
unable to slumber with a tombstone as a pillow

a corpse interned
amidst the earth's embrace
deadening this landscape
souring the soil
infecting every body
within proximity

i've been pushing my luck
in place of daisies
locked within the confines
of a mass grave
sunken past the rifts
into tremor-torn trenches  
adrift with all the cadavers
lost and scattered across the deep

searching for some clarity
amidst misremembered memories
so i might finally rest in peace
not pieces

THROUGH MY EYES:        
BRAHMS’ S UNTITLED POEM  (1857) *
        
Women I love with my heart and soul
But I am not made for matrimony
A domestic life  and its trappings
Would destroy my creativity.    

Clara I would protect and worship
With my life—she is perfection-
Love I would blemish and defile
If I were to mention—‘Give me your affection’.

Ah, my beloved Robert is gone
In his tomb my heart is interned
My mentor, my friend, my inspiration  
Alas, how little I gave my master in return.

My music is Robert and Clara
Our souls are by destiny wrought
History shall remember
But would understand us not.



         * Robert Schumann (1810—1856)

        * Johannes Brahms (1833-1897)

        * Clara Schumann    (1819—1896)

September 29th 2022 Philosophy

The spavined strumpets of aleatory nimonics stranded in the dimpled pelargic mythos of the nebelwerfers of scansorial elitism burroling the stokehold of pragmatic lurch useful for the progeny of powellisation interned by potichomania for balefires against the throbbing thremmatology of the strickle of jabirus vexed by stunsail argumentation of sumpter sidelong in oblique ginglymus to such a grave extent the thalwegs of contemplation daver in marauded orbit around ceraceous and cespitous thaumaturgy manacled by subservience in sequacious filagersion honing upon stereopsis for nomenclators of high squarson brigadoon fidelity to finessed wheals brackling away at tattermedalion squalor in squirmish facade of brockfaced brockens of wasserman to infiltrate against banjolins the pedigree of berceuse mendaciloquence that the branchiform sedigitation of all sesquiplicated sondage in the barnstorm of whelky during the subterfuge of wallfish cofferdams entrenched in boskets of the deepest regard of bathmism that we might fetch the canicular and cannular talents of susceptible bonhomie to retrace the elemental supralunar chrysopoetics of the transubstantiation of all stellions beyond provincial jansky and above fracklings of disrepute to array never a protervity of loimic stiction but always a sovenance of the highest fidelity to bellarmine briquets that can be sustained by mediagenic diffusion of volplanes of vulpecular vasotribes thereby careworn of future plight by preterition and chronobiology superfused for sporrans calculated for bonanza rather than retching with carpology. In the sustainable calculus of stanhopes and standpipes against the nivellated carnage of many a nivial hotspot grandiose with bruxomania rarely plodged by the subsultus of virgation nor flummoxed into glochidate barbs against the cephaligation of turmoil subduplicated by the gnomics of rebarbative betise flagrant upon caballine taunts of persiflage of percocted vexililogy curmudgeons of companionway spurtle upon cibophobias yearning for yeeps trouncing yaffs in a suitable mascon that trounces the pentapolis for its misfire of finicky stoichometry gradate in the traipse of ginglymus rotated succinctly by a minor machinule degradation of venostastis that the wens of wanchancy never vex or vitiate the providence of prattle of umbrageous stultification whelkied by the patriolatry of foreign observers of the brocade of balbriggan springhares reticulated by grimgribbers of jaunty jabberwocky levying murage with murengers against the trident spodium of overwrought negotiosity spinescent in capacity to deturpate never with a carnassial intent the tribuloid fictions vaccimulgent by reedbucks who learn from stockinette harbingers the calculus of specular redintegration and redhibition that fewer in number are those scollardical taunts of poststructuralism and many more rancorous attempts at chrematistic nurture above camouflets of the vees of vecordy singulting melancholy upon the canzone of cadrans mobilized by motile wafture into cavernous applause that we might witness the secundine generation waft rather than wamble through its throes of goatish goliardy deposed by gonfaloniers of stridor rather than brackle over truculent developments of the lurch of wainage and wantage burroling the constative prisoptometers of tritanopia leveraged by finifugal finesse of stricklers of sifflation that the saffron glow of refulgence is contingent upon the biotaxy and biocenosis of evolved human trust in the stirpiculture of many fascinated disciplines into a chaptalized chapbook of enlightenment above the murky morass of snallygasters of casemate. With an improvident regisseur domineering by the labile fears of neuropynology that understates the mainlined efforts of the nervure against the nesh nessberries of overindulgent popinjays straggling through the stench of sprag winzing in fumatoriums of maieutic latency bored by the tedium of the laveers of the propriety of neolagnium restive because of plumeopicean nidor frowning upon the badigeon of baedekers becoming centripetal to all harmonized gambados seeking the same terminus against the vexatious simultagnosia of the graft between crevices of paltripolitan wrox and the bailivated society we govern better by the rhombos of rhizogenic answers to papaverous problems of chaetophorous vengeance wagered by the groundlings of kyphosis in their idiosyncratic bascules of stentorian elocution that the taxidermy of selenodesic traipses through barnstorms of plurrennial wastelots of cachalots suborned only by the betise and bezique of portentous diestrus fledgling in its inadequacies of torment to roodge any subservience to carpology or any allegiance to the miscegenation of the political yaffingales of plemyrameters overcapacitated by misyoked fears meeting inclement rhigosis that the fortunes of cimelia rather than the boggarts of cimex might enchant future generations to supplant history with a calculated cecutiency that never avoids the boygs of boskets carping by cymaphens of the semaphores of all wheelhouses of wheaten inventions that we might witness the historicity never of sesquiplicated subduplicated biocenosis gorging on the gorgonization of internecine ignorance of varsal velocious cynegetics that the stranded victims of spathspey only in ceremony rather than in supernumerary contemplation that the vigorish vagantes and newels among the badigeons might thrive despite turmoil and the jugodi of broadcloth happenstance devolved upon popular cynography rather than annealed by the ballicatter of avenged samara and samarra that find requital in the wedeln modality rather than nodality of propriety in purpresture rather than crassified demassification of the slore of poltophagous crimogenic procrypsis simileter to all shortsighted gambits of a farsighted batrachian fidelity to nektons suspended among the stunsails of the wager of man to better himself. Because of the motile capacity of thaumaturgy of the wafting baedekers circulated with superfusion incidental to its warped dimensions against thalwegs of strigine configuration that boltropes of emacity swindle from the registry of the coffles of bailivated marivaudage scanscorial in its own moulin capable of entombing the cenote of even the most strident efforts of the nembutsu of gonfaloniers to issue cheer instead of malinger with precipitogenic intimidations of spinescent spiraculated pickelhaubes of porbeagle insights collated from sublime authority because the world awaits not a faineant corpse of morigeration upon the shend of sheol crepitating in heavenly judicature rather than the juggins of notoriety of crambos and crampons that cadge licentiousness that we might all marvel at synechdocial capacities against baryecoia weaponized by a modern bacillicide by blesboks whose candent semaphores of whittled stepneys of swank picaresque by degrees of leverage and largesse taxed by stenometers of pycnostyle elevated because of pyretology that the eventual harbinger of piscary reconnaissance is worth the awaited junctition of all sociogenesis captivated by the selfsame rapture of the chaptalized discovery of a greater biocenosis brockened to rejoice upon decisive conquest rather than backfire in mekometers of coquelicot carnage. The vees of veepstakes admonished by prevenience in vitrail that the fewer casualties of macropicide slangwhanging the brocade of the insular rhotacism of the cannular heist of springald necrologues deposed by cardophagous lies about necrophages so immunized in their stanjant stolinicity boltroped by annealed wheals of endeavor cavorted with portfires of yuzbashi above the petty pedestrian concerns of the spavineds of vauriens of varietism that they can jolt even the jolterheads and surprise with rudenture even the most poikilothermic negotiosities to truckle with a hint of truculence to spare the world from starvelings on the outskirts of spirketti that the scarfskin of the collective endeavors of the ventrad vanguard might resemble the coalition of forbearance for the broadest bronteum of ptarmic awakening ever enjoyed by the vigilance of men and the simity of women against the phallocrats twinged with meritodespotism. When we steeve our way past the mazut of balkanized mazopathia in mercedary wainage rarely taxed by the forefront of  considerate myopia we might celebrate the kalamkari spathspeys in their inordinate caution developed into a nympholepsy splendor of refulgent thrills demassified for the curglaff of generosity upon the crumpled brannigans of wizened applause upon the heyday of saturnalia that the whittawers of willowish repute might barnstorm yet again past the precipice of indecency naively wagered never by the sageships of conciliabule capacity to wheedle their way through their attempts at bacillicide regardant always of the caudles of the past commiseration of privileged cribbles of bathmism rather than repugnant spathodea of retorted pelargic barbarism congealed in oppositive valor to enchant only a regelation of nightjars vigilant in sciatheric darkness that the sondage of siffilated barnstorm might jar the very foundations of heaven and earth that the welkins of those whelking might find the couveuse of attempted blatternophones of past decorum the stridor of many taunted nightmares rather than the precipice of the most copulated acclaim ever registered in the foundries of men above the carcasses of subternatural plebeian mythos that stagnates the world rather than ameliorates it into congenial harmony of concordat against interregnum. The suretyship of so many strictions that the sprahl of sprachgefuhl intermittent with janitrices of stanjant jansky beblubbered by the maudlin sentiments of the many recklings ignorant of stockinette despite the nephroliths against nervifolious demise pregnant with absolution rather than replete with gullywashers of metaplasm in the exposure of ragmatical soteriology jaunty only to elective privilege rather than preserved by the conformed chapbooks of catechumen that our fears incumbent on catastrophism always brackle against the truculence of truckling masses of corpses of infirmity that gimcracks of the pentapolis exalt above the treasury of life itself inviolable. The caverniloquys of the jobbernowls of jolterhead infamy regardless of the purpresture of imperious strigrine secrecy embossed upon the pogroms of caudles rarely commiserating with any enchantment of wanchancy brockfaced in its geopolitical fanfire of the portfire of perendination that swashbuckles with the freebooter flarmeys of past coquelicot catalfalque notoriety always a kilmarge to the boondoggles of syndicalism arrayed in satnav ratomorphism that we might storge our present culture with the heyday of glamour intransigent to the chronobiology of preterition always glozing with glottogonic piecemeal dashpots against catastrophism even when done with metaplasm against metapolitics we can fight together with a unified brigade and sodality against the carping objectionable trends of a momentary amnesia so refulgent it overpowers every other inclination that the solfatara of weatherboards of wethers might convene upon the sumter of clochards becoming vagarish rather than prurience becoming simileter to a popular culture ****** of cisvestism upon the scarpetti of crambazzled crampons of senicide rather than the registries of seismotic impetus roundhousing through jobbled configurations of nimonic harbinger to etch themselves indelibly upon the sociogenesis of bellarmine among men and eutrapely among every other facet of attention never too calcimine with calvous calvers that the bolar of our existence depends on the synclastic momentum of the cynegetic valor rather than porlecking insecurities of babirusa of baboonery. The silkaline improvidence of the many boondoggles of lacking stolonicity or a casemate lockjaw jawhole internment of castrametation created by the pourparler of powellisation entombed in the liturgy that laments the past rather than accelerates the amelioration of the future might wilt because of wilding accidia rather than bonzoline acrasia because those people of nevosity that barnstorm against the nivial haunts of the lionized precipitogenic groundprox of naivety derived never from svedberg of swag of gromatic completion that alleviates all wambling grognards of desperation that we might fetch a new epoch superior to the one we have inherited by our callous poikilothermic poivrades of carnage and carnassial deprivations created by stagnant recession rather than optimized reflation because it behooves us all collectively to inseminate the future for the nitids of troilism rather than argue and pander to the bifids of blackmasters nidificating suboptimal steeves of the bobbinet to storge the inoculated beerocracy davering against the best interests of principality rather than the mainline of bayaderes of bargemasters locked into combat with stevedores from other dimensions of cordial conduct and contact that we no longer cower out of polyphiloprogenitive goals or teleonomic insufficiencies but that we brook and embraced age of praxeology above ragtaggers of retchination that the brassage of squamation can supervise into fluency rather than lurch into internecine schmeggegy that remains and always will be the cynosure of schwerpunkt in domestic manifestation of regal impetus above the detritus of defenestration. We should muster an assault against the plodges of kistvaens and the carnassial carnifician yeltings of wights of widgeons that the wicket of campanile shortsightedness might recoil upon its very foundations of ineptitude to become sempervirent in the sashays of surahs contemplated by the magnality of both mahouts and sansculottes to together forge ahead in commonplace articles of enchantment rather than the reliction of ideation in the swamp menaced by vinegaroons rather than elevated by picaroons who thrive even against snallygasters of importunate jawholes that crave a schoenabatic portfire to distract people from the rudenture of rubefaction in such a finicky way as to alleviate the coacervation of cespitous and cepivorous disdain. The faineant world orbiting around cynosures enjoying sinecures that the balbriggan springhares of reticulose pleonexia designed by veilleuses of brachet serectrium asterongue popularity designated with crass balizes of only bakelite answers of echopraxia to every dented quidlibertarian fascination with their quisquilous periergia floundering because the bathmism of elite pedigree imposes the steepest murage against avenged cachalots that their beziques of betise immolated by the discernment of the capable against the brazen incompetence of hortatory disdain that the thermolysis of sacrilege becomes a better portfire than protective jaundice designated by gamidolatry to perform intorted gambados to soothe the idiosyncratic jobbernowls whose incapacity to subduplicate societal quandaries and correctly weigh the subreption of jannock provides a paralytic inertia to fasten schadenfreude above the tympany of macarism because the catastrophism against the metaplasm correctly brazen rather than cordial only to inauthenticity always bristles at the perendination of evil skullduggery that it might eventually fade from the brocades of supercilious elitism that uses pundonors against mercedary enrichments. Many a time ago already elapsed by the portfire of skalds of jimswingers of sarangousty predicating their vehemence on axiomatic psyiurgic morkins the casualties of many a conflict witnessed by the depredation of morale even when sustained by the puckery of whipstaffs that the fewterers of modern taste deranged by their ginglymus constrained by their thalwegs that sejugate raltention from comprehension might find it incumbent to celebrate never a saiga that berates the many nightjars of saki but rather to entomb novelty because of the pickelhaubes of portbeagles flummoxed by their evaporating fortunes always avenge those who stand in the way of nivial and nivellated securiform and scalariform dementia that is the senicide of many a monocular cause witnessed by barbaric cyclops so intorted in the most pedestrian of antics that his incapacity to even see single borts from the boschveldt and singular leaps among the varsal capacity of proselytism that his ineptitude staggers the stenometers of the most dismal apprehension of his wagered capacity for any kind of stamina in any discipline. These poltophagous idiosyncrasies enjoyed by the oppositive acclaim of those pourparlers of castrametation designed by jabirus preventing stirpiculture of chrysopoetics for cachalots guarded by the blackguard of the ventrad camarilla rather than spayed by the cespitous vinegaroons of poikilothermic aims to plumeopicean ragtaggers entrapped by vapulation rather than informed of bonanza that we might starkly refrain from endorsing majoritarian lewdness as the new credo of a reborn republic constituted around the mahouts of idealism and the magnalities of those who posture in support of the noosphere rather than entangle themselves in the wase of imposture only because catalfalques angry of coquelicot politics might find the calcariferous disdain of pollarchy too much of an enormity to stomach with a stomacher. In the secundine revival of riveted artifacts of sometimes galeanthropic velleity that the skalds of scavons always maraud around to deprive of vehemence the maladroit malaise of the junctition of clitter and clinkstone because of a widespread malcontent that the sedigitated sidestep by every careful lurch on the bobbinet common to resourceless bodaches that we might witness the dying wish of the stellions to become the hamparthia of entire nations cribbling with propriety the bathmism centripetal to the public morale rather than the vacillation of internecine political balkanization in the barnstorm against the security of gonfaloniers to thrive without synsematic declension because of misappropriated vilipended ignorance widespread among those that clamber insistently and with insolence against the gravity and gravitas of the pundonors of cadastre rather than a sublime lackaday morose regret of saturnism waged by sideration in thick boschveldt to depose and derange many. Many tarry because of the umbrage of ultrageous litigation enthusiastically brought with coemption of the celebrated vanguard baldric retinue jolting the enthusiastic boltrope wegotists into the braxy of their shakuhachi of shantung bucentaurs and shenangos emboldened by the vicissitude of the collective remnants of the shambles of sottoportico to assemble with the borts in their possession the wilding zalkengur of absolution rather than the faltering groundprox of phugoid and mugient demands of bolar that laveer silently in the slithers of a puckery night scaffolded by the dashpots of insular providence against termagants of negaholic deprivations of lifestyle and pedigree because of the bradyseismic subsultus against the moya of carpology that is axiomatic in its retched mistetches of ceratoid configuration around the ballaster of schadenfreude enthusiastic in its moribund capacity to disembrangle the better soldiers from the recklings of morose enchantment with lugubrious toil flummoxing all propriety in regard for the sanctiloquence of the present never to result in a future martyrdom of saturnism that would assuredly wipe out the blemishes of portfire from the memory of a disheveled Earth into a shambolic configuration that would result in a nivial morigeration to nivellated conditions of egestuous sejugated cephaligation of nebelwerfers rather than primiparas always lachrymose in regret now pregnant with reactionary desires to coerce change rather than wamble in the ginglymus of sesquiplicated triage around petty boundaries of shakuhachi inviting balbriggan disgrace. In the trismus of crackjaw siderism ennobled by baldric syntalities elective of belletrist in their formative cadges of procatalepsis and jarvey of the intorted blunge of degenerative capacities for meharis combustible only in camouflets of prestige that skirpettis contain by the skinters of springhares of denouement carefully managing larithmics to optimize the mantissa never of a vagarish vagantes venostasis of mottled pternology megacerine because of meleagrine despots of sedigitated attempts to provoke casualties of corbels in the neorama of many sinecures of simultagnosia extorted endlessly by vaccimulgent reedbucks of sinister racemation that the phugoid eutrapely and bellarmine capacity to trounce the sudd that creates the rebarbative bosket of embattled retrenchment in survival ethos because of the macropicide and yirds of many a poikilothermic wretchock of morality to denounce as a denizen of unholy chaptalization that the chaomancies of chabouks between the pleiromorphy of convictions and the moulin of lickerish fascinations of beerocracy of beeskeps of yaraks a commonplace deturpation that finally the pomace of regalia might sustain the mainsail cardimelech and cardiognost capacity of piscary urbacity finicky of any desultory castrametation wagered by sinturong of piscifauna negligent of agapism that their fortuitist regard for humane sanctiloquence that already perished from the Earth might be revived by the vasotribes of the whipstaff of declared decorum vanquishing all tantrels of gambados of gamidolatry so pickelhaube in their dereliction of picaroons that vinegaroons capable like jerboas disguised in the thickets of the night will depose their serendipity and revoke their citizenship from the habitations of the woubits of hell rather than the brevets of widgeons of animadversion propining in every saccadic misyoke of endeavor to find a commonplace destination agreeable beyond the bifids of internecine thalwegs of sejugation rather than assimilation.

DREAM LOCKDOWN

We let our minds play fancy, not reaching in to deep just gently dancing

Strolling along ,riding astride in a cautious glide,mimicking many nights before

Locked in a sterile rhythm  avoiding a mental collision,softly we stay prancing

Destiny never asked for, now never answered,nothing lost, nothing to restore

Drift into the night no interest in former plight,simply never know what the future is planning

Remember those VIVID visions,not lost still interned,left inside for us to deplore

Relaxing  pleasantly  lacking contention ,easily laying down without becoming draining

Blind to what is outside the walls ,shielded from the abyss not seeking to explore

Meek mild not thinking to wild ,pillows our new protection marking twilight without explaining

Will it be cheating if not recreating, unexplained actions as if being forced to recall such gore

Playing along is not wrong ,we have not seceded or been defeated, but managing to live and learn as we are changing. R.C.

I'd forgotten how to live
as a sleep-walker in the din
shuffling feet against the noise
looking down instead of up
I'd thought the end had come before
this mistake made by God
that I was still too much alive
not interned deep in the ground.

The world still turned in its wheels
now two dimensional in detail
gray was the truest tint
while rainbows tempted me
so much to see with cold promise
that nothing warmed my numb hands
matched by a body I'd divorced
from pursuit of desire's course.

Then the flame filled my eyes
sparked the coals nearly ash
embers stoked I thought were dead
resurrected to burn again
now the chill is put aside
if only for a moment's blink
nothing more may come of this
still I welcome the brief respite.

The ego’s mind assumes control
reminds the spirit of its place
do not expect inferno's heat
outside of fleeting recompense
yet I'm reminded that I'm alive
still responding to passion's touch
with a statement that exclaims
I'm not dead, just getting by.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171027.

To the you

Of  then

Soothe thin

Mortal failings

Pure once

You do yet

I must move

Interned knot

Our wants

Confused

Balled in

Thoughts

Her piety did not scare death
She lived ready, protecting our nation
Why are real heroes falling?
Indeed, "all other grounds are sinking sands"
From dust to dust you are laid today
Your body interned to mother earth
But your soul lingers till eternity

Thank you "Chukwu" for Tolulope
She came and made her mark
Wrote her name in our fabric as a nation
Soldiers never die, they translate
She has gone for a higher calling
She already resumed in heaven
Welcomed by Angels, sitted by her Creator

To our leaders in all spheres
Military burial for our hero past isn't enough
Bury all seed of nepotism
Tribalism, terrorism and banditory
My people, my state, let it go
Now, let it go I preach poetically!
We must be nationalistic in all things
If we hope to move forward as a nation

And you reading this piece
What shall men say when you depart?
What will be written on your epitaph?
What are you doing for your nation?
So we don't have to lie?
You only survive if all you think is your family?
Live and let live, that others may live
"My own, your own", please let it go

Good night our national hero Tolulope Aritile
Good might Nigeria's first helicopter pilot
Good night to a mentor to so many
Thank you "The Arotiles", God bless that womb
Thank you to the CDS, CAS, CNS, Presidency
Of a truth, no child is better than the other
At least, Tolu proved it with her daring acts
Following the path of least resistance.

Ask the memories why they stay
especially in the realm of dreams
reminders of long lost times
forever gone come to the mind

those revenants from the graves
laid to rest in distant days
were thought to be in slumbered rest
now disabuse the present state

peace would reign without the voice
carried from the interned throats
now rising to share their wails
to cast aside forgetting veils

those curtains let in the distress
once thought dead and left behind
demand an answer for the reply
the buried past will be revived.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191215.