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

The incidences of ***** **** and malevolent  violence
Against women are maddeningly all over
As the number of lives claimed
And broken with stupidly impunity
Women are not safe in the crazy man’s world,
This and that to protect women and girls
From gender-maniac violence,
Particularly idiotic ****
And other forms of ****** imperialism
And all other forms of beastly violence
In situations of lunacy of man’s armed conflict
Punctuated by most bamboozling de-civilization
In the nature of resolution reads like capitalist utopian ideal
Women have been the victims of lumpen ****** violence
Since the start of the prosaic propertied conflict
While thousands more have been killed after menacing ****
Uhm; Congo, Mali, central Africa, Iraq, Afghanistan,
Kenyan in patients, Eldoret Nandi militia armed to death with arsenal of ****
****** forlorn foreign victims justifying political primitivism
Tortured, abducted, held to devilish ransom
Or used as human shields
Of the perpetrators being held accountable
For their actions, who can pique
When **** of women creates power
Abuse of women in war is as old foolish male avarice
As is the culture of tribal impunity that helps to breed it
But too much is known about the devastating agony of women
And lasting effects of ****** violence on bigoted individuals,
You generation of the serpent; when are stopping **** of women?
You continue ****** fearless devoid of legal repercussions
I do not think your ***** will be blessed anyhow
You ***** my sister because of the very nature of her vulnerability
Because our family is beautifully powerful and politically powerless
But if there was a way for us to make sure
That every single ***** that rapes is
Chopped of and given to victims in compensation
These would make fair claim for justice,
Here at least the signal would be sent
That people-****** will be shamefully accountable
Them rapists, for what they do
Out of Yet flamboyant patriarchal cultures
Where the stigma of **** overwhelms victims
Perilizing Matrimonial and parental loyalty,
Discouraging victimized women
From  coming  forward to  document
Bitter experiences creating  a struggle within a struggle,

In admitting what has been done to them,
O ! Victims of ****** assault in
**** is so powerful precisely
Because of the stigma in transit
This male a weapon with a long after-life
Is less than the war injury that only leaves  mutations
Dignifying the victim as it does not carry
Psychological and cultural implications ****** robbery

Already the month
     of August 2018,
     May never become
     a je June'm
     (Forget-me-not)
     time of year,
especially for nouveau
     homeless and,

     penniless residents,
     (now more like worrier),
     who reside in the
     (burnt to a crisp)
     Golden State where,
towering uncontrollable
     wild fire infernos veer
really did tax mental,

     physical, and spiritual
     oye vey iz mare (to
     the bajillion power
     of Google Plex) their
heirlooms, mementos,
     and trappings of
     das kapital lifestyle
     went up in smoke,

     which tragedy didst seer
the eyes (yes, iz traumatic,
     but also the air)
     looms with toxic
     particulate matter,
     though concerned former
     propertied owners
     (now ashen faced)

     as utter grief doth rear
a scorched (bumping) ugly head,
     yet the onset of Autumn,
     (and the main
purport of this poem)
     (oh my dog, that twill be
     in approximately three weeks,
when Eastern Orthodox Church

     denotes beginning of ecclesiastical
     annum mull house
     for straight or queer
(these times opening
     doors to LGBT, or GLBT
     (an initialism that
     stands for lesbian,
     gay, bisexual, and transgender),

     nonetheless history
     replete with app pear
chock full of factoids such as:
     September (Latin septem,
     "seven") with near
exhaustive steeped in
     pagan glory of antiquity.

Ancient Roman observances
for September include:
Ludi Romani, originally celebrated
September 12 - September 14,

later extended to
September 5 to September 19.
In 1st century BC, an extra day added
in honor of deified
Julius Caesar on 4 September.

Epulum Jovis held: September 13.
Ludi Triumphales held: September 18–22.
Septimontium celebrated September, and
December 11 on later calendars

September called "harvest month"
in Charlemagne's calendar.
September corresponds partly to
Fructidor and partly to Vendémiaire

of first French republic.
On Usenet, September 1993
(Eternal September) never ended.
September called Herbstmonat,
harvest month, in Switzerland.

The Anglo-Saxons called
month Gerstmonath,
barley month, that crop
then usually harvested.

That awkward moment
When you try to have faith
In the prospect of a corrupt government
Being reformed from within the boundaries
Of its own parameters, but then remember
That the institutional structures of said government
Were set up from the very beginning
To ensure the hegemony of the propertied classes
Over the lowly workers and
To hinder the development of
Popular democratic
Movements from below.*

**WHOOPS!

The wrecking ball long since
     demolished boyhood house zen
located at 324 Level Road,
     a once rural residence,
     which soulful yen
I called home
     since February 28th, 1968, when

Boyce and Harriet Harris
     (my octogenarian
     widower father, a transplanted urban
cowpoke father, and late outskirts
     of poker flats mother) than
experienced livingsocial in the country,

      cuz aforesaid domain didst span,
and encompass,
     one hundred plus acre estate
     listed in national register
     as "Glen Elm", where ran
woodland surrounding a golden pond

     favored by Canadian Geese,
     but under game plan
of commercial developer Donald Neilson
     (a tall lumbering
     "all business no play doh" man

blueprints drafted for
     an army of vinyl city
     exemplifying Little boxes
     on the hillside ditty
Little boxes made of ticky tacky...gritty
material upending wildlife refuge,
     ah...what a pity

yet, impossible to stop industrialization,
     the das capital way
spurring thy preferential longing
     for nature preservation oye vey,
and to make a million bucks in USA

if land left off limits
     for propertied class today
then in the near future,
     an aggressive builder will sashay

confirming prophecy    
     scooping up gobs of profit
     out maneuvering competition
     analogous to a marathon relay
race quickly witnessing little boxes
     to sprout all the same

     by construction workers,
     who hammer away,
nailing steady income,
     viz all work and no play,
who maxim eyes

     American middle class dream
     asper buying affordable home
     after acquiring a mortgage to outlay
their limited choice sans, may
be there's a green one and a pink one

and a blue one and yellow one, how zing
free enterprise, and they're
     all made out of ticky tacky
     held together on a wing
and prayer they all look

     just the same ring
with a round of row zees
     awash manicured lawns
     with generic grass seed
     that doth spring

to life with synthesized,
(yet deadly) chemicals meant
     to guarantee wrest
ting control might and subdue
     so nature forced

     to become nsync from in vest
ment plot purchase
     as proving grounds to test
a money bagged well paid
     laborer at leisure time

sprawled asleep in comfy hammock
     a much needed self deserved rest
whereat successful proof
     evinces "American dream"

     no matter quest
necessitates becoming linkedin
     with fast paced lifestyle
     attendant ulcer inducing "pest"
keeping up appearances,

     where younglings nest
scolding woe begotten kith
     if flawless grounds get messed
by clod hopping kids and/or smart pets
     upsetting calculus figuring formula

     determining trigonometric
     landscaping tangential
     to maintaining perfectly
     squared off turf especially lest
the neighbors cease becoming hospitable
     and stop offering gold plated invitations
     to such honorable humble guest.

(                   (
         (                    •  
              \/                       )  
/\              
/    \              
            ^^


^^

I remember you

                                                 ( Pig tailed and freckle faced ! )

Cute kid


            ^^

My first           ... Girl friend

( second grade )

///

and the years and the war and the war crimes

( I remember you )

And

                                 ...The dreams

The dreams that were alive for EVERYONE

//.

everyone of       US !

( all life )

••

I remember

I seen

It WAS YOU !

It was YOU who was here and I seen

And I remember everyone
And I remember every thing

And every dream

And all our love

••

Before we believed that truly love

Meant stuffing **** into crazy ****

While the music played

And we were played

And learned to prey upon each other

For popularity's most propertied sake !!

( but it would take a **** load of hate

But we were afraid of loneliness

So we took the lies
And we took the ****

And ****** it up ! )

••

•

••

I remember you

On the playground swings

With your pig tails

And freckled face

////

Your sainted smile !

Your heavenly dreams !

Your golden wisdom

And your soulful strength

••

The princess of second grade !

( You were seen ! )

You were held secure in our childhood love

THERE YOU ARE !

There you are and shall remain

( you can RETURN any time you want )

There I am and shall remain

You can find me yes you can

Couched in the
     concept of a well,
     (which supplied the water
     for faded glory of "Glen Elm),"
     my boyhood abode,
another metaphorical attempt
     at writer's block - aid,
     here attempting to reference

     (former Leiper estate re: early
     twentieth century demesne)
     across avast tract, which bestrode
approximately a hundred
     acres enshrined sanctuary,
(yet whittled down
     to about a half dozen acres,
when Boyce Harris made purchase

     circa February 28th 1968),
     sans plethora paradise
     of flora and
     fauna once code
did ecologic niche,
     now...long since transformed
     into ticky tack vinyl city
     servicing twenty first

     century materialistic cushy
     (on *****) sedentary worker
     dog tired to pen a ditty
(butta no mien
     mean manual laborer,
     neither grubby nor gritty)
     propertied class i.e. bourgeoisie),
     whence about a century gone by,

     where wild woods would still
     have been agreeable
     to the ghost of Walter Mitty,
or John James Audubon
(born Jean Rabin;
     April 26, 1785 – January 27, 1851,
     an American ornithologist,
     naturalist, and painter),

     who would pity
fully unleash torrential
     tears, nor witty
countenance supposedly progress
     this eighteenth year
since advent of second millennium
     bench marked based on
     start of common era

     at expense, where
countless animals and plants veer
really didst vanish, ah swell
     as a pond
     attracting Canadian Geese
     (they honked in
     French), now...there
tis nary a trace

     of former Currier
     and Ives bucolic
     scene, aye swear
     not e'en a sparse copse pier
reed (and exclamation
     point) argh near
re: zero vestige of vanished
     rural expanse mere

lee cookie cutter
     (look alike)
     family dwellings brave
lee evicting, jack
     knifing, and crave
vin lee over
     laying pastoral
     enclave iniquitous

(courtesy of Neilson, and flave
er flave Gambone
     Brothers), rendered grave
bounty viz Anne
     Xing Mother Nature's
     brethren and cistern did pave
a successful accomplishment
     measured by (Ole) standard

in parlance and accorded rave,
ving reviews, asper
     a job welled (weld) done,
     where only legally tendered
     bucks fate didst save!