No wonder so many are unhappy
Their lives are predicated on pluses
Pluses= happiness
Unhappiness comes from minuses.

All this they hanker after:
Pluses in wealth, power , position
Fame, recognition- even pluses in good looks
And wisdom--anything less is no consolation.

More acquisitions---the goal of life
(Pity those who live in minuses)
All the time they strive and strive
Chasing like addicts for the next round of seductive pluses.

Shouldn't they change their mind-set?
Surely minuses are to be more desired and embraced
Minus ill health,  minus greed, minus envy, minus discord
Minus strife, minus discontent--aren't pluses sadly misplaced?

you know why you can re-watch
a television series
a second time...
unlike what you tend to do with
a movie...
there's no nostalgia...
  there's only a series of
pin-points where you're exasperated
at the number of Oh... Oh...
      Oh!
you only pick up on the staring
at you, obvious details...
the second time around...
like with the series...
   sharp objects...
             but that's beside the point...
****...
what was the original point?!
sure are **** it wasn't
a ******* tornado...
    jews... lawyers...
gentile customers...
Oh! that's right...
why am i not inclined to read
into a second tier of
    articulate?
no... that's not the word...
what's the word...
****!
                ah...
LITERATE!
   i'm not into this lawyer
******* of a second tier of literacy!
**** me!
that's what i was looking for!
guess drinking *** is
actually a memory-yank-machine!

am i really supposed to learn
the games, the thesaurus
games of this casually,
adequate, use of language,
in order, to simply concern myself,
with, becoming a lawyer?!

am i?
                     well...
if were at it... why not throw,
what could best amount to a combination
of the, Bible, and  crossword puzzle weekly!

get my, ******* DRIFT?!
death is no pardon,
but sure as chicken ****
it's hardly a, ******* recluse...
death in the form of ******
doesn't hide in the attic,
it doesn't hide in the ******* cellar,
it's a ******, blatant, lie,
lying wide awake,
in the wide open.... preview
of the obvious...
which apparently makes
an auto-suggestive proposition...
those "geniuses"
you "thought" were smart?
******* window-licking ******(s)!

oh no... no...
you're not stopping me...
i'm like a mad bear mother
seeing one or all three
of her cubs being slaughtered...
i'm not stopping...
**** i'm not stopping...
i need...  blood!
i need the perfume of ******!
i need a whiff of it!
rare stake,
or a stake tartar will do,
thank you.

what i am not buying
is a second tier literacy
if the lawyer profession...
past the thesaurus,
past the synonym,
minus the metaphor...
i'm done with the cowards...
and they said there was
no honor among thieves...
take a second look
and you'll see something,
much much different...

no...
i don't need a lesson,
in second tier teaching methods
with regards to literacy...
no lawyer will be allowed
to teach me a language,
with that he already preaches,
the thesaurus definition...
i.e.
words do not begin with, noun,
they begin with synonym,
which is a twice-respective noun
for, nuance,
or? ambiguity.
                   or? as the ancient Latins
liked it... similis...
    no...

lawyers will not have
a revision of my first lesson
in literacy,
lawyers will not occupy the conduct
of the application of linguistics...
they'll be,
abhorred, as much as politicians...
for whatever good that will
make them, revise their conduct...
which, of course
it won't...

              plus aspects within the confines
of the incurred minuses, aside...
they speak a language...
which, i vaguely demand to
understand...
but...which of course...
  i do not want to understand...
               and why would i?
am i supposed to heave a second
literary effort?!
  
i wasn't expected to learn their game,
nor their,
trans-grammatical ******* either!

play the thesaurus all the while,
i know when a thesaurus
is used when it come to pop
literary works...
       third limbs...
it all points to third limps...
you know when an author
has used a thesaurus...
the word jumps at you,
standing out like a dinosaur
       in an orangutan zoo!

what, you don't think i wasn't,
watching?!

death is a thrill,
sleep, the malaise of keeping
with one's everyday chores;

******...
cite me Lord Byron,
one more ******* time...
cite me!

no... i don't like to be "asked"
to be literate a second time,
a literacy peppered
with thesaurus nuance,
i hope you find that:
once... is enough.

There is a Professor Robbie,
who has a calculating hobby;
He delights in asking his pets,
with multiple inherent defects,
or not too brainy, to be exact.
If 2n is more or less than 2-n,
and 3x is same as 3 men, then,
the study of maths be banned.
With that Robbie will surely object,
for he makes a living on the subject;
He takes not too kindly our slow wit,
and chips away our esteem, digit-by-digit.
Equations after equations, he blast,
until one brave pet, at long last,
who sees more value in a candy bar,
than juggling numbers to solve algebra.
So Robbie, will you be ever so kindly,
spare the aging cells of these cuties,
singularly or simultaneously.
So loose no healthy slumber,
by chasing after prime-numbers;
And we who have trouble with dy or dx,
well, there is always graphic ***.
If you think this -- dX+2(x^2 - x*y^2)dy=0 -- is cool,
to make idiots out of fools,
do not be easily trapped,
into giving polite claps;
or stare at them with awe,
for they are nothing more,
than saying pluses can turn into minuses,
and at times even used as voodoo curses.
But Robbie will still caress them tenderly,
like they are his little babies,
annoying different people, differentially.

Around your neck
not a stone

a crystal
shown
I relate to it

shine
so special

you let me touch
it touches me
in return

I relate to you

it's part of you

after
all

refractions
cloud my school day
it's physics

in the crystal
I C
Re: fractions
which in total
have no equal
and which apart
add up

to me

.. as time does
for you
in action?
you seem to be
anything but..
so.. so..
hypnotic?
action?
crystal as time

act eye on
cry  s t a    l   .. a  s     t      i        m      e
love?
and you?
it seems formulaic

the equation stalls
so sad
MC is square
not round

no cutting corners
2
let us go
on and oners

Love =
pluses and minuses
I guess
one kiss
would solve it

Thank 'Eee

awwww

(I'd be such an *** not to)

We’d known him, back in the day
At dear old Millard Fillmore Elementary,
As Three-Desks Tommy, highly imaginative monicker
Deriving from his decidedly unimaginative first name
And the fact that he, indeed, had three desks,
Each of them stuffed chock-full
With uncounted numbers of pencils and erasers,
Any number of homework papers
(Usually A’s and A-pluses,
Though there were the odd B’s and B-minuses as well,
As he was a bright, in fact inordinately bright, child,
But sometimes given to sloppiness and stray pencil marks
And a predilection for not reading the directions completely)
Eerily accurate renditions of dinosaurs,
Wildly inventive stories featuring rainbow-hued dragons,
Noble and voluble talking bovines,
And knights and knaves of every size, shape, and suzerain,
Stories which resided cheek-to-jowl with some bit of uneaten sandwich
Until such time it made its existence
Abundantly clear to the custodial staff.
We’d never stopped to think much about his miniature Maginot Line;
It was what Tommy did and had always done
For as long as we could remember,
Though there were some teachers and an assistant principal or two
Who thought the whole thing was permissive bordering on coddling
(His teacher was a veteran of the wars, and well-insulated by tenure,
But she had grown weary of over-glasses glares and snide asides
When Tommy’s name came up in the staff room,
A death by a thousand cuts and all that),
And one day, while moving one of his desks
To clear space for Simon Says,
It had caught on a sticky spot,
Overturning onto a soon-to-be-fractured toe.
When he came back to school, accompanied by an ungainly cast
And an equally ungainly pair of crutches, his teacher took him aside.
Tommy, she purred, Maybe someone is trying to tell you something.
The other kids all make due with one desk,
And I’m sure you can find a way to as well, don’t you, Tommy?
So Tommy embarked on a great cleansing of his little fiefdom,
Filling several garbage cans with his collected works,
(Math papers and mastodons, bologna and Brobdingnagians)
And afterward he’d kept himself to one standard desk,
Duly filing, returning, and circular-filing his paperwork
As the occasion demanded
(Though one time Murph Dunkirk
Asked Three-Desks if he minded downsizing;
Tommy just shrugged, and said Well, it’s better than a broken foot)
And maybe in his dreams he had a thousand desks,
A thousand tops to fling open,
A thousand repositories for light and legend
Or perhaps he never gave it so much as a second thought,
No way to know now, one supposes,
Though if anything out of the ordinary had come his way,
We would’ve probably heard.

Quite a draining journey
traveling through this drainage tunnel
groping my way through the disorienting darkness
arms of lifelessness reach out from the walls
constantly tugging at my shirt
it's my health that they hurt
when I try to run
they grab and stun
forcing me to buy movement
at the price of energy
they hold tokens in their hands
inscribed with the drainage brand
like the hair from the drain in my sink
or the phlegm drained from my sinuses
I wade through the **** of stomach minuses
moving through a drainage tunnel death funnel
aches develop in my feet
as well as my back
I can't handle the heat
or how the inside is black
I start walking slower and slower
as the ceiling gets lower and lower
the backbreaking pressure
makes my height lesser
so I crawl through the filth
of all this drainage I built
the hands that hold me down
are now my only company
their frustrating grabbing
now feels like a lulling caress
coaxing me to stay in this tunnel
all other voices are muddled
because of the drainage in my ear
blocking communication with fear
a wall of wax
that won't collapse
creates an axe
to cut off my head
from suffering dread
wondering when this tunnel will end
because there's no light to be found
in this tunnel I crawl down
gagged and bound
from the hands all around
grabbing at my brain
to push it down the drain.

Can I ever forgive him for leaving?
I remember it was a cold, cold morning,
as the saying goes:
Nothing burn like the cold inside your heart  :Quote

The cheery *** whistle  louder than the factory whistle:
I got so tired of fighting with the devil:
And on the other hand asking the lord for strength and guidance
to made it throughout the days ,
But as the old saying goes
He only helps them, who help themselves

Sometimes our love: Isn’t strong enough to caged them in
I remembered opening my journal and jot down notes on events,
That led up to the day of his leaving: I began to sort out my
  my plus and minuses like a grocery list on a low budget:
my thought turned to the innocence young lady sleeping in the other room

The way in which we met, a love that was pure, a love that was consent
and everything was about to be change that morning
I remembered sounds of the boots, I remembered the melt down
I remember the song, I remember the lyrics
These boots were made for walking.
One of these days those boots going to walk all over you.

It felt like if the devil boots were walking away from us
Down the street, away from my home ,
boots that had walked all over me for five years.

It was finally coming to an end:
The boots walked toward the elevator door
For the last time, the last slam, the last tear drop
and the last grip of the devil touch.

The heart can get really cold if all you’ve known in winter :Quote

Every relation
Has
Love
The basis

Fights
Arguments
Discussions
Debates
Understandings
Misund­erstandings
Egoes
Care
Helping

Both pluses
And minuses

If you run away
From this

You will not
Be complete

You are incomplete

She pulls out a box of CD's;
says name your poison.
Cobalt-60 will do.

Bare Naked Ladies will be
the band du jour.
I lie on the slab
in the radiation lab...
yes i'm...lying in bed...
like brian wilson diiiid....

I'm wearing my spandex jacket
(where's Donald Fagan
when you need him?).

As LeAnn wraps the
velcro-ed elastic band
around me to bind my arms,
I mention that I miss
the good old days
of canvas
and leather straps.
i'm so sane
it's driving me crazy....

Time stops

I'm motionless

engage mind wander

it's so dangerous
you have to sign a waiver...
embossed positive
and negative
on the massive metal arm
the pluses and minuses
of shooting a carcinogen
at a spot of death
to save my life
*if there's someone you can live without...
then do so....

I used to think that I was a terrible student
I was terrible at learning
Then I grew to think I was good
I knew the answers for which I was yearning
I devolved, I suppose, and soon I was sure I was a failure once again
F's and C's and D minuses felt like my only friends
I tried to convince my stupid self that it didn't really matter
But I had to choose between learning and grade-earning and I guess I chose the latter.
It scared me to death what I had become a zombie fueled by grades
Focused more on that god ****** score than the progress that I made
I used to think I was good at learning but it was all pretend
I could play school but in the end A's and B's were not my friends.

Being born, you are just there
constantly crying for eating, or for everything in the air
you are constantly loved and cared for,
but you do not need to do the self

being in life, you have grown a lot, gained a bit
earning money, traveling to everywhere, talking bulsh-t
making you wealthy and famous a bit
but at a certain point in life you have to stop, just drop it.

mine poetry I love so much is of all kind
you may like it, love it all this bulsh-t
you may stop reading if too lengthy, just stop it
or pause a while,
then at any momentum, you may rewind
all the words that you have in mind
yeah, mine poetry is of this kind
adorable, many minuses and yet sublime

how simple the words, is oft thought-provoking
thinking about those words causes mind aching
mine poetry is for pleasure to treasure
and never for heartbreaking

who says if I say simple words
that you regard them simple too, that´s absurd
since these simple words in mine poetry
are seldom a brevity but oft a lengthy
lengthy makes most thought-provoking
added,  some with a wit and some with a tragedy

what is keeping me from reaching out and grabbing my dream?

your A minuses, your rejection letters, your mundane home-works,
your beauty and size standards, appropriate clothing manners
your gender roles and restrictions.

you.

and countless other things that end at me too,
but i am too angry to recall them.

Will the pluses outweigh the minuses?
The plus is a feather-light ephemeral thing.
A minus can weigh many, many tons.
Of the two to fall on you, choose which one,
Even though, my friend, it is already too late.

I used to think that I was a terrible student
I was terrible at learning
Then I grew to think I was good
I knew the answers for which I was yearning
I devolved, I suppose, and soon I was sure I was a failure once again
F's and C's and D minuses felt like my only friends
I tried to convince my stupid self that it didn't really matter
But I had to choose between learning and grade-earning and I guess I chose the latter.
It scared me to death what I had become a zombie fueled by grades
Focused more on that god ****** score than the progress that I made
I used to think I was good at learning but it was all pretend
I could play school but in the end A's and B's were not my friends.

You can never see as far as outside of here.
Just money signs ring in your ears.
It is sad. 42 and never left.  
You think money stops your every move, but no. Your mind does.
Your negative thoughts and attitudes sting; poisons your mind.
And through and through you can never leave here.

Everything in your mind stops you. It is sad. Very. You don’t see experiences or memories you see loss, the minus sign in your transaction.
Which is ironic because the minuses from cigarettes, **** and PlayStation don’t seem to hurt as bad. Funny isn’t it.
Funny how you value **** over fortune.

https://youtu.be/fZSiBj4vCiY

My Carona,
Don't u know we've come a long long way
I've been fearin' that you'd come
When u're around u take our breath away
Bad Carona,
The symptoms surely hurts bud-gets
I'm a part-time worker at a **-tel here in town

Ca-ro-na!
Oh Ca-ro-na go a-way,
Oh bad Ca-ro-na!
Ca-ro-na!
Oh Ca-ro-na go a-way,
Ca-ro-na go a-way!

Bad Ca-ro-na
u've caused some sad
& scary times
Just the thoughts about u brings back an-xi-e-ty
Gyp-sy vi-rus
You're a my-ster-y for doc-tors
U got har-bors locked down so ships can't sail out to sea
U cover sun-light when the times r good!
U treat us so bad-ly we want u gone now!

Bad Ca-ro-na!
Oh Ca-ro-na go a-way,
Oh bad Ca-ro-na
Ca-ro-na!
Oh Ca-ro-na go a-way,
Ca-ro-na go a-way!

Bad Ca-ro-na!
Oh Ca-ro-na go a-way,
Oh bad Ca-ro-na
Ca-ro-na!
Oh Ca-ro-na go a-way,
Ca-ro-na go a-way!

Bad Ca-ro-na!
Oh Ca-ro-na go a-way,
Oh bad Ca-ro-na
Ca-ro-na!
Oh Ca-ro-na go a-way,
Ca-ro-na go a-way!

Bad Ca-ro-na!
Oh Ca-ro-na go a-way,
Oh bad Ca-ro-na
Ca-ro-na!
Oh Ca-ro-na go a-way,
Ca-ro-na go a-way!

Bad Ca-ro-na!
Oh Ca-ro-na go a-way,
Oh bad Ca-ro-na
Ca-ro-na!
Oh Ca-ro-na go a-way,
Ca-ro-na go a-way!

© From A Poet's ♥️
3/17/20

Viruses r
Minuses
Bacteria causes
Dilerium

Even a cold
Can wipe out the old
U came down w/ the flu?!
We should quarantine u!

© From A Poet's ♥️
3/17/20

Pray more
Stress less
And my life won't
B such a mess

© From A Poet's ♥️
3/18/20

Homeschooling?!
Who r u fooling?!
I know u!
And that won't do!

That's y u work!
And and chose public school!
So they deal w/
Kids who act like fools!

I'm not stupid!
And you're not Cupid!
An arrow to their heart
Won't make things restart!

© From A Quarantined Poet's ♥️
4/29/20

Pluses are minuses
and minuses are pluses
the Zen mind takes no sides
nothing is permanent--everything comes and passes.

In what has become the daily
tallying of the sum
adding plusses
minuses divided by suns
a kept total
of souls
rung like molecules
none ever created
or spoiled,
is infinitely the same
- a quantum state-
where measuring
becomes the result
and the quotient.

WILted FLOWer CHild

Each generation looks forward condemning those from their past

Generational passion played out in rations, brewed in the bellies of momma who don't always plan for future drama

Dreams start as a child minor or mild, gentle inside inane shows itself from pleasant too insane

Dismiss the silly human race yet them rebelling is simply keeping up with others pace, invent the intent never truly marking time for karma

Burned bridges serve no purpose when the raging river remains, living legends are for learning more often leaves followers just yearning, lost within others' views your freedom is truly cast by what they proclaim

Grandma and grandpa now in tie dyed rockers showing grand-kids peace signs with arthritic hands, dementia-tinged memories of groovy songs that weren't all wrong, hard to show them the way if minds won't play, more of a clash in the current genre

New beginning not about right, wrong or sinning, visions of paradise few willing to compromise, Vision of pro-life lost because focus is only their own and at any cost, hard to see fate if lost in hate, an easy life lost in strife meanings harder to explain

Summer of love changing to winter of hate, players forecasting their fate, Life is what we make it, feeding a passion internally to rise up against unknown enemies, many new ways to view what is proclaimed as  righteous dogma

Many in strife fail to see the miracle of Life, enhanced by her luster, fail to realize beyond personal pleasure, to quick to insert they can,t make it here anymore,many now seem to complain just to entertain

Violence is nothing new always a tale of old and another view, folkies seen as yokels ,many more feeling Stuck in the shiny side of hell, Dance of death becoming their new aura

Lost at sea on their own ego ship, face into a wind of change, simple sailors see the sea taste the salt, new life looks to the skies, still similar neither content seeing life through a stagnate windowpane

Love and Peace replaced by blood in the street, Race is short and over before knowing if pain was worth gain, quickly played out in pluses or minuses, left in solitude with just the story, love ins lost to bad tastes of twitter and strangers on facebooks hidden melodrama

West meets east in Peace, returns in violence, lovely day gone astray as  another hatemonger starts a foray, wilted flower child needs a new drink from that characteristic bottle of champagne R.C

Youthful One, Blessed God's Fingered Hands Youth
How we met in this White Dimension fill
And read your Verses with Roads of Fine Truth
Does mend my Doubtful Moments for the ****
Such were the Visions imprinted at Hand
Which the Gun and the Weeper beg for Place
Yet *** these Minuses for Creation's land
Your Fashion by purpose ignites my face
Now, for your friend's Warring Moments let Balm
So your Connection induce their own Growth
Just let those same Verses promote their Calm
And see how long will Inspire their Worth.
Then she arrives. And your Gift no longer kept
To feed this Dying Earth after she wept.

Scrupulously second by second
A timekeeper sits at his desk
Near the tallest mountain
Riding a cloud one would guess
Tabulating only plusses and minuses reams of paper accumulating
Behind him
Keeping scores almost blind
Deaf and dumb
To secular or pagan
Reasonings and mores
No more
And no lesser
Just calculating
Everyman
For everything

Almost I want to help him
Throw in my impressions
But ignore
Me us


He does
Balances

The ledger

Bad Thoughts

Bad thoughts in youth:
Energy, gifts given, offered,
Why we suffered…
We knew nothing.
It just was.
‘…wasted on the young’, said Shaw.
This truth endures:
Energies were boundless.
Such a plus and it was us.
But minuses with M, big M,
They were the dross,
The rubbishy behavior of those days
When we paid no mind to the affluence,
All assets.
We were young, un-formed.
But now, formed, social-normed,
What have we for excuse?
Those days diffuse,
We leave those days all honeycombed.
Now we know.
Bad thoughts have nil excuse;
Crave discipline to loosen.
Self-destructive in their essence,
Nuisance to the mind.
Trust this writer: make you blind.
Know thyself, said Socrates.
The phrase that follows - obvious.
Be kind!
You cannot lose.

Bad Thoughts 3.20.2018 I Is Always You Is We, Circling Round Egos; Circling Round Energy; Arlene Corwin

I forgot my first love,
I let myself get caught up in all the trivial things,
the pluses and minuses we track,
even though they aren't fulfilling.  
I apologize, Mi Amor,
I know its been just me and you since the beginning.
Sometimes you don't rhyme,
you just flow,
The leaky faucet of my mind
                                             drips
                                               drips
                                                 drips.....
          Poetry you complete like no human ever could...

I was miserable at 16;
math problems were
hypnotic hieroglyphs
lulling me to sleep
adding up fleeting years
until I was only myself
through transitive property.
All that seems so far away
now that a baker's decade
divides me from that negativity
—which is a plus,
no longer subtracting
from the remainder
exiting the X axis
shifting my gaze
to smokestacks on the horizon
protruding into the Y;
mysteries postponed
carry over into adulthood
pondering the permutations
of possibilities
had those equations been solved.
Nonetheless, I remained undefined
igniting infernos
to create smoke I could explain
like steam rising from the spoon
building facsimiles of smokestacks
multiplying scattered wildfires
until new generations
had smokestacks to stare at.
All that behind me
I've driven further down the road
yet the smokestacks
seem as far away as ever;
they never changed, I did,
adjusting to the variables
and my deciphering deficiency
enjoying each point on the line
especially when it seems like
I'm earlier in my sequence;
momentary minuses show me 16
and far off smokestacks
down a road untraveled
eager to accept my driver's license
so I could factor into the problem.

Today you can be happy
by working every day
you can be happy now.

It's not easy, being breezy,
the inconvenience of not being ******.

Sure the bads are there, the negatives, the minuses.
They'll float about, trying to kick
your senses out.

But there are pluses everywhere,
waiting to be found
by you.
And when all the minuses are ganged up on
by pluses
they're a lot less scary.

Beauty to the eyes
Looking for a romantic interlude
The summer air was making our ***** feel soothe
Our bodies were silky and smooth
Yet we were naked as we were
Sweat pouring down our bodies
It was take me for all I am worth
Sensual alarms were going off through my head
Our emotions seemed to ring high
I have no reason as of why?
But we were turned on, and I knew I had to give intimacy a try
We were kissing and caressing
It was hold on I was in for a rough ride
That journey had me in a never ending stride
It was an adventure interlude I must confess
Yet I felt I must pass this stamina test
However there seemed to be a lust war between the two of us
In between, we seemed to fuss
Than later we both began to cuss
We discovered our intimacy was no longer a must
There were plenty of minuses and no plus
Steady began uneasy
I felt used and taken for granted
Lust having no confident in being sure
But I knew we had to settle this score
The whole segment was an interlude just needing to just explore.

How do you know that your life has been good enough?

That you've done enough
That you've been enough
That you've accomplished enough
That you've given enough
That you've strived enough
That you've endured enough
That you've toughed it out enough times
That you've ****** up enough hardship
That you've checked enough boxes and jumped through enough hoops

How do you know
that when all of the plusses are added
and all of the minuses are taken away
that your life doesn't equal
a big f-ing zero?

Beer raised up in cheer
The winning game of appear
Raw of the crowd being the appraising sound
Sports Pendants that were hanging around
A team with the most winning points
The champion winners all having aching pain joints
Tension beyond compare
An invigorating Shower Bare
Extra conditioning with care
The refreshing game
Two Sport Teams all having a name
The free spirit
Teamwork in merit
The Coach who encouraged the team well
Of course it was show and tell
So congratulations
The crowd raw was their appreciation
Sport achievement at its best
Commodity being number one
The strategy plan that was never outdone
Accomplishment working with champions among
Establishment being triumphant
Victory beyond
Pluses with no minuses
Play by play with no fowls
No howl like an owl
Winning, Exceeding and Fulfilling
A time to take all the victory in
It’s total glory within.

We’ll take that republic
The monarchy’s
Old news
And soon we will publish
What constitutes
Breakthroughs
In what the people
Can finally do to
The tyrants
Still silencing
Riotous styluses
With
Threats of violence
And weaponized viruses
As they deny
The sound sciences
Highness is
Set upon by
The sirens
Of your highnesses  
Buying compliance  
Since timeless papyruses
Kept adding clients
From granaries minuses
So we could feed
The advent
City-state
And repeat the whole process
Again
Make it great