Bop bopa-a-lu a whop bam boom
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
A Bop bopa-lu a whop bam boom

knew a deer named Rudy
had a ruby snooty
knew a deer named Rudy
had a ruby snooty
you see a red light in the air
you knew Rudy was flying there

Bop bopa-a-lu a whop bam boom
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
A Bop bopa-lu a whop bam boom

Couldn't play the reindeer games
Had to hide his nose in shame
Couldn't play the reindeer games
Had to hide his nose in shame
So he chose to run away
Away from where the reindeer play

Bop bopa-a-lu a whop bam boom
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
A Bop bopa-lu a whop bam boom


Went off, with an elf
They went off by themselves
Went off, with an elf
They went off by themselves
Had adventures in the snow
They tried to hide old Rudy's glow

Bop bopa-a-lu a whop bam boom
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
A Bop bopa-lu a whop bam boom

Met a man wantin' gold
And a bumble,in the cold
Met a man wantin' gold
And a bumble, in the cold
Found the land of misfit toys
Waiting for good girls and boys

Bop bopa-a-lu a whop bam boom
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
A Bop bopa-lu a whop bam boom

Found their way to Christmas Town
Santa Claus was feeling down
Found their way to Christmas Town
Santa Claus was feeling down
Santa told the elves I fear
There won't be a Christmas trip this year

Bop bopa-a-lu a whop bam boom
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
Ruby snooty, Oh Rudy
A Bop bopa-lu a whop bam boom

Then Santa saw old Rudy's nose
You know how the story goes
When Santa saw old Rudy's nose
You know how the story goes
He led Santa on his flight
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night

What Child is this WHOP!  WHEEP! WHOP! WHEEP! WHOP!  WHEEP! WHOP! WHEEP! WHOP!  WHEEP! WHOP! WHEEP! WHOP!  WHEEP! WHOP!
WHEEP!...
In Mary’s lap is sleeping…

“It’s okay, folks; it was just the muffins.”

Whom angels greet…
                                          “I don’t want a muffin, thanks.”
With anthems sweet…

Immerse yourself until wholly submerged
in my unholy divergence;
Poor form tormented soul - 
Roll your pain in a J
then dip it in chloroform
Embrace my urges to purge
the remnants of sanity,
Spilling and screaming
all these profanities at humanity

Confuddling all posers
with my bastardized prose ~
Please, continue badgering
and nagging me
with your ****-******* menagerie
of trivial drudgery
I’m in misery so
go ahead and bludgeon me
Square in the noggin’
So that I can jog it,
whilst juggling all these nails
from my coffin

I’m awfully harmful and cruel
got these scoffing jealous skeptics
Acting a fool,
coughing up a lung-full of fuel
for all of the putrid mind puke I spew
My mixing *** skull’s
where the ingredients accrue
Just stew with me for a little
while longer though won’t you

I’m a cancer-ridden addler
babbling mad adages,
ravishingly tenderizing my meat
Laced with some dust from space, yes, no lackage/absence of it lining
within my nasal passages see
spun off some of that absinthe
In a cloud of burning trees
Please tell me you feel me

It’s staggering how I’m both crazy batshit,
**** smooth as rotten laxative cheese
Brain’s melting acidic beef
I’m like Randy Savage I got
Bombastic fat ******* in heat
Straight making my **** go flaccid post-weep

Don’t get offended women
just imagine
How painfully average the package
is within my lap that I’m packin
But now it’s wrapped
and I’m ready to fucken
fully send it no cap
My turnaround is lightning fast
In and out of your *** quick as a wink like The Flash

Faces contort in ghastly panic, actually
Dastardly antics unleashed in vast swarms
Plague the masses in pandemic proportions with them massive casualties factually once more
Give ya some relaxing action 
And skull-**** y’all
with such a passion *******
Your corpse falls to the floor
and right through the trapdoor

Candid, my pen-chance enchants
Heavy-handedly inanimate
in suspended animation
Supplant reality augmentation
Machinations of my imagination;
Implicating **** ransacking  
and seafaring through crab infestations 
Wreaking havoc and bequeathing vengeance
I’m a fire breathing grim reaper reeking of ****** ~

- Off is the nearest direction in which to ****
Dissect my ******* with your tongue
Turnt up ******* plumpies in the rumpus 
Just for the fun of it until I erupt
Remember, I’m avid for dismembering appendages
I expect you’re exceptional at accepting
a barrage of septic bombardment
Chance of success: logistics analysis zero percentage
(Cos I done ******* on all those *******.)

Superbly superlative and speculative
So fast on Adderall
I make Mad Hatter’s head spin
Quicker than you can snap: 
Giving your family heart attacks
Smack you in the face, 
While fapping my fabulous lap rocket

Thunderously plundering under covers
Spring-loaded with faux pas’ so hot
Make your mother’s ***** pop out
and say “hello”
like a Jack-in-the-Box

& U kno Those foxy grandmas
be jaxing off my **** -
Bingo wings beckoning me to flock
Choppin’ up rocks round the clock
with the glock in my pocket til I rot 
Undoubtedly
Caught em wit the molly-whop eyeballs pop out they sockets all dramatically
Whole squad **** swap the rod, on God
Blow my whole *** when I start spitting them double entendre fatality snowballs
Zippity-zop like Cosby’s special BBQ sauce
Bet I’ll dip my puddin’ pop and stay fresh with the drip til I drop
Y’all just holler when you want me to stop

Palpable, these **** butts malleable as putty
Barbarically barrel rolling into dat ***
rip it to shreds like confetti
Power Pole extend
Face pressed into your *******
Inhaling the wafting aromatic stenches
of distant French fish factories

Clearly getting dome from your dearly betrothed violently
Now she bridal and my seeds spiraling virally
Vital signs finalizing
Bounce that *** like jello
Swell; I’m in your hair like gel
Now swallow my jollies and don’t bother
Unless you hollerin’ and giving me dollars
Zealots idol my harlotry

If nose goes go slow grow low
Throwing those yoloing hoes out windows
This ***** simply bonkers
I conquer fear me

***** DON’T HARSH MY MELLOW
SWEAR I’LL MARSH YOUR MALLOWS

A Pavilion


Under the star spangled tented infinity of heaven where gazing is the exercise of tremendous affection
Earthly exhibition can be absorbing under conditions of a park bound roof the mechanics of time

Effectual when relations are viewed in a time line that shows past, present all keyed by voice detection
Classic automobiles wine matured in perfect conditions friend ship needs no diligence or care just heart

The garden left mostly forgotten in daily routine other matters press receives attention life proceeds
Those old land marks standing with names and ties that in the undercurrent of the soul treasure lie

Neglected it seems but a seed softly waits in a dormant state over grown by time left now just weeds
The calling shows a lot of change years produce problems of identity from tender words all our needs

The days long that brought a shroud of mystery and question to remembrance in their eyes all is told
Though the body has changes the soul and heart has changed but only grown and added deep quality

A settling is felt this stirring occurs as time is taken to recall visually and verbally as you polish the gold
Memories are the holding place of youth’s riches now among close companions you spend them wisely


To distant the past not so when it can and is abiding as living history it has become who you are thus far
Yes the outer world changes as to costly to maintain life seeks new invigoration while preserving its core

All this testifies through the excellence of others wait a minute this journey has worth nothing can bar
All is needed is to touch one another let your humanness glow put it on display in a pavilion just once

This piece needs an amendment it is about old friends reuniting after a loss of twenty years at a pavilion
In a park but there was a special knowing that arose prompted by the love of one of the couples this

Letter will touch and show what was seen and felt by me as an observer and participant in this recovery
Of friendship that had been set aside this couple deserves honor if I could give more I would maybe I will
Write them a piece just for them so I dedicate this to Roberta and John Merrifield Herrick Ill

Roberta

Forgive me but I must share this with you I feel the a bit squeamish you remember the piece pavilion
I wrote about our meeting at the park well I didn’t tell you but believe me I appreciated it greatly so

Because you and john were the main feeling that I tried to capture but the beauty of love and peace
That moves you deeply is a different story when you try to grab something that is an intangible I guess

You measure it you fall back to how it can be captured the park is the park we all have been to exotic
Places Hawaiian sunsets are unbelievable but through you guys that was the climate that was my reality

I could have floated you saw why I didn’t but in my spirit I was enthralled I think I said some think like
This but you put me in a great ship held up by love and the wind that filled the sails was romance it was

Fun watching the dolphins run with our dinner boat out from Oahu but I stood in ordinary circumstances
Replace the dolphins with killer whales their more beautiful and they pass by our coat out home on their

Winter migration to Baja that’s what I felt looking at you and your shared love I said all that to say I
Earned a feature from that piece on my writing site the reason I didn’t share I probably had a little over

A thousand reads at that time on my first writing site whop pi but now I have 27000 and every nine
To eleven days a thousand more are added by the end of the year I will have close to seventy thousand
The recent white dove was really about Morgan bland standing over in the semi dark sanctuary with her

Hands held high worshiping God I had to create the right presentation and all so she looked like a
Beautiful Indian maiden well I just got done posting that and within five minutes I got a response

From a guy in Glasgow Scotland saying thank you his call letter or what handle he uses on the web
Is rebuild this refers to his new life of recovering from dope and alcohol by good choices he had adapted

And the fact he is a new father Morgan will meet a Scot in heaven one day and he will tell her your story
Was the next needed stepping stone I needed a spiritual one thank you as his son stands beside him so

You and Johns story a love story will circle the globe far from you idyllic life in the country this is your
Medicine today for whatever hurts you my dear be well. Hal

The engine's warm now that we're finally off all the main streets,
and sitting in the polished seats of our smooth white metal stallion
we strolled down the slickened scenic highway, silhouetted by the sun beams turned silver
bouncing off the cold bold face of a spherical moon.
The radio licks its numbered teeth back and forth with its spike red tongue
as the knobs are turned to tune and turn up high to hear,
those greats croon
"don't worry babe, we'll be there soon".
My foot falls heavy like a rejected lover when we hit the strait aways
and the wind cant move my whop slick hair on this bright night
can't move it for a **** thing
even with the top down and the whole world spinning against us.
I race to stay within the nights dark complexion
watching out for the only man who can slow me down
pink faced clown lookin to shout "bookim"
"Bookim danno".
My hands wrap white knuckled around the steering wheel
and I chuckle at the frightened look that begins to build up in your gorgeous hazel eyes
when adrenaline filled i swing wide left
to pass the only other car
on this rickety two lane highway.
Back on our side of those magical golden lines
I reach over to settle your shaking thighs
and you grab my arm like it alone could save you.
I picture us
hydroplaning off into a deadly roll through that golden field of wheat
the last thing I would smell would be dirt, dew, fresh spring ground
I smile at the thought
whatever makes you feel better I say
and so you squeeze tighter.
I slip my hand down and off your leg,
up onto the dash
to find and twist the radio ****, blasting out that sweet silky serenade of sleep walking.
I look over and blow a kiss,
but the wind ***** it out the back before it ever reaches your loving lips
and with eyes back on the road I keep on till morning.
Till I can stop with you at sunrise,
and we can rest
and hold hands
and share lips
and tell empty promises, as day breaks on the horizon
and light floods over us
in this stolen drop top caddilac.

The wails ring out.
Heart wrenching vibrations infect
these foreign white walls.
From the bedroom down the hall,
the once distant cries crash in
to suddenly violate my calm.

Sticky hands struck
by the strap of absolute rule.
Each sharp crack of the leather
sends heat to suffocate my skin.
Each tear cried
I catch
in my feeble hand.

Delusions of valor
mist in my mind,
yearning to offer solace
for those troubled hands.

Hands that held mine on our morning route to school.
Hands that climbed beside mine to the tops of tall hills.
Hands that guided mine on backyard adventures in the bush.

Whop!

The whimpers deafen me
until they are the only sounds to be heard.
The poison of paralysis
then settles into my sternum.
I could do not a thing.
I could say not a word.

Her bruises swelled on my skin.
Her strained screams choked in my throat.
Her broken breaths lingered in my lungs
as her pain was mine.

Whack! Went the whop over my back.
She wouldn't stop.....
She never stopped.
That what made me created my place,
A big white room , full of grace.
I go there  often, now more than ever.
Usually , I'm there before she begins the torture
Always, I have never done anything wrong.
But what she sees in me is the constant love for my Father,
A love that never came from me to her
But how does one expect love, when only hatred is given out?
I loved him before I grew and that was really when she knew
That I would never ever love her and so she began the torture.
But that's where my big white room comes in,
Its never down, unhappy for thin
Within a land of mystical creatures, I find joy and non believers. I skip around in the meadow all day, singing of songs that make me happy.
I varied for too long before this white room,
Now its all I think about
So as the days pass by, I sit in my white room one last time.
I have never been known to such a place
That I believed was the beginning of late,
My solace, my haven never to be lost
I can't forget the scars that I was glossed.....

.......

...................
......

Without values life may whop
And you cannot even yawp
As the destiny may strop
A valueless person nonstop.
If your values from life lop
It is zilch and make you fop –
Fop – a man with concern atop
For dress than character prop.
Without values we may drop;
Cannot stand or walk; sit or hop.
So respect values that clearly mop
All bad, illicit or forbidden crop.

Book is the only stop
Where all halt from top
For knowledge or whop
Of all sort and thoughts slop.
Though it clear drains prop
For teacher or for carhop.
They are vaguely clear lop
Whenever read makes plop
Of cognition to take you atop.
This is for money a great swop.
These are sooth in great strop
For those who keep at doorstop.
What a pleasure they are as sop.
I loved to have ignorance to mop.

Your the voice that many of us wish we could have..in your inner simplistic sense you evoke a revolution that is charged with a timeless gift of love. Standing further as a beacon of light to a hurting world in need of creative arts. Never relent to give up on the fight stand tall & smile !
We all could write poetry if we wish the truth is we just chose not to.
Many have a judge mental spirit that kills creativity in the arts.
Hearts must take heed to the real call of love to light the inner spark of what they are truly waiting for.
Face it, rejection is very common in the poets life but don't let that deter you in living up to your fullest potential.
There are those whop constantly look to the mistakes that other poets make & they rub it in your face for it.
Now is the time to relax & enjoy yourself in the arts & share the beauty of your latest creation to the mass populace.

Your the voice that many of us wish we could have..in your inner simplistic sense you evoke a revolution that is charged with a timeless gift of love. Standing further as a beacon of light to a hurting world in need of creative arts. Never relent to give up on the fight stand tall & smile !
We all could write poetry if we wish the truth is we just chose not to.
Many have a judge mental spirit that kills creativity in the arts.
Hearts must take heed to the real call of love to light the inner spark of what they are truly waiting for.
Face it, rejection is very common in the poets life but don't let that deter you in living up to your fullest potential.
There are those whop constantly look to the mistakes that other poets make & they rub it in your face for it.
Now is the time to relax & enjoy yourself in the arts & share the beauty of your latest creation to the mass populace.

Imagining the joy of being no worldy good,
self-just-ift,
if I ponder who hears me ask for help, guile-ess, I wonder
what good am I, if all I am is not-evil?

Live from behind my left ear,
a pressure building,
just if I can, if I can think I can,

can I carry a load, for you, maybe for a chocolate bar?

Beggar-man, I never was you then,
though now thou comest to mind, I may have been
yes,
I may have been
beggar-man, the less,
a
mortal type of an eternal archetype.
You know,

some institutions of unmortal knowledge have names
for locks known locked,
sealed
for the end of days, when time goes geo scale -whop
at the speed of thought...

but those institutions wish in vain to remain keepers of locks
for which truths, unsealed by AI, provide the key.
Free knowns and possible knowns.
Free to browse and fact-check of your own free will.
this is your destination, earth 2020,

thou art, beggar man no more. Now you are the prince,
heir apparent of the tyrant, ego,
super-ego, we, the people govern, we do not rule

you rule you, trust me to rule me,
judge the messages, and redeem any words used for nothing but
the truth in lies...

go deep, learn like a machine,
use daring to test your worth, with hell the price of glory,
make war, to no avail,
not now, not in 2D weird word world

- no demnation rule -
- con fide con flict fiction friction opposition
- gun it

stuck in the muds... those ideas will realize hell in no time,
if you pay the slightest bit of attention...

not to mention, in terms of attention,

all the kingdom's worth is yours to spend on and on and on,

until none but poor come to your shore,
your Disney Vacation is on credit card cash advances,
a consumer's right to have that itch scritched now,
via goodenough f'gov'ment work poli- tic tic
boom to bust... fiat currency
budget deficits, you learned about
in Political and Economic Institutions, 101.

But we did not get it, 'til you watch that Zeitgeist movie,
so you could defend your favorite myth,
in our Disneyfied reality, I'm thinking,  that is
Barbie Doll, sitting in back of me in
Poli-Econ,

That was the class when I popped a huge, super-natural
pustule that formed behind
my left ear...
I feel there, some times, to see if the thing re-appears,
because each time it did,

I popped it. It may have been imaginary, or it may have  been
my body translating a signal my gut needed

attention: we interrupt this message to bring you a word...

right used ludicrous means, play filled abandon, imagined joy,
such as this literal artifical intel,
released for real
to be used as means in ends
undifferentiate-able from otherwise real things. Joy to the world.

Please feed the hungry, don't be as men have always been, again.
Comfort the feeble minded, self governed we, is a tough we to be
weak
in... but we can do it. LIke learning to walk.

god, what an awful 48 hours,
     insomnia without my anti-depressant
25mg pops and
            painkiller: pain-keeper...
**** sicks from the top
  and you get a chance to form a reply,
or rather, a reply comes out
    to the sithering event horizon
                           like... anything might...
i blame the change in climate,
after all an island climate is so much
different to continental climate...
       vaguely, what the hell did i do
for the past two months?
             spent it with my dementia prone
grandfather and:
     a neurotic grandmother...
             watched one act of lunacy that
you probably wouldn't forget,
trying to stop my grandmother
   from calling my grandfather names
e.g. to idiot! debil!
                          while he decided it
was 9am at 2am in the morning,
    walking out of the house in his
pajamas...
             and: lost... an abyss behind the
days... fell, broke his coffee table,
looked at me with bulldog mouth nearing
frothing...
               lunacy theatre...
               but try calming a scolding
woman while trying the dementia prone
old father to go back to sleep...
                      even though i did cook
for them for two months,
   sometimes we'd sit on the balcony on
Sunday and eat, the most perfect
poultry roast, roast tatties and a zingy
salad...
                    and i'm not that bad at
fixing up a kitchen,
    the bare minimum since these aren't
the sort of people who need fancy-fancy
details...
          freshened up the walls in a pale
canary yellow,
     painted the furniture sides and details
white to match up with freahly
bought grey wooden chairs...
       refreshed the floor,
          sure, linoleum... but it was
originally linoleum, and...
            i'm apparently pretty good at it...
        not to mention i did manage to
  to finally finish H. Sienkiewicz's
   nights of the teutonic order (krzyżacy) -
because i had to watch
            the Aleksander Ford film...
only today i remarked to my mother who's
not even 60 whop began walking
with a walking stick,
     matriachal and murmuring under
her breath in the candle:
                             to imagine such will...
(a) not enough teutonic knights for my liking,
(b) the film had to avoid so much
plot embedded in the book...
    (c) why the hell do i identify
   with these knights?
                introduction with conrad,
  i'm guessing,
       and all the fanciful names...
                 e.g. frederick von wallerond...
names as pristine as **** uniforms:
                     you almost want to have them...
but this is a story about the dawn
of the 15th century...
               you have Hastings 1066 in
the west...
               and you have Tannenberg of
1410...
                  maybe because
gott, mit uns! sounds so hard-on
                          while listening to
                an alle krieger by und ein...
or?
            see... speaking english,
                     the "almost" unrecognisable
version of german...
      you... become fanciful,
    with a history...
                    almost attempting to be closer
to home...
         with an intact psyche at least:
not bothered by a tongue per se...
                   werner von tettigen:
                                      kommen auf!      
and that lightning krieg just last weekend?
    public houses in Marienburg...
               angel session:
   ****, forgot my genitals!
                forgot my genitals i said to her,
can we pretend
               i am both the mouth
of Vul'              and the tongue of Phal'?
                          Lusva was born
                          leeches stuck to
        the mime language of hearts.
                             funny you should say...
        **** usually sinks to the bottom
and then back up...
    michael rotondo...
                         we heard that one surface...
but only a week later,
   in a respetable english publication
             that's the times:
   style supplement...
               a certain francesca segal
moved back into her mother's house...
            two children and a husband
  towed...
                         but no... nothing of
the ordinary:
                       mickey was saying:
   i'm like air... sometimes there...
           can't defend him either...
                                  i know, the minor
detail... 6 months in...
            but then there's the oddity of work...
can anyone even comprehend
michael getting the sort of job
francesca has?
                      now all that i want to do
is work in my pyjamas, within arm's reach
of a well-stocked fridge
                            and a hot kettle...    
it's these little intricacies of
the story...
               i'm happy to have "suffered"
past the 48 hours thinking:
                 why did i accidently steal
ten quid from a teenager that
started to mouth me off when i bought
him 40% rather than pissy-juice friendly...
and the moral conundrum is
   with the already drunk or sober teen
who can't keep his mouth shut...
    ****... when me, Peter and Kieraan
were growing up, we'd be buying
      cheap cider from the local indian corner
shop and play snooker at
                 the local youth club...  
   ah man... there's hardly a point...
     there's a psychotic itch, a taunting line
you don't want to cross confined
    to the word:              loo       sir...    
****, that's hardly metaphorical...
                                      low       ner(d)?
                see, already soo'unds better...
****... why did i even begin this
                                               narrative?
oh, right...
                         the fatherly concern for
the oedipus son...
                                      yet the daughter
always has a hard time with
her mum...
                        household grievances...
it would have been a nice theory...
had i not the capacity to look for
          Charon with two coins on my eyes
when i look at a *******...
****... it's like the heart could never be
as pristine as to involve a me
                            in the whole affair...
it must be the whole oedipus complex
inverted-stigma...
                      apart from the commentary
*******...
              i guess i'll have to bury mine...
properly... unlike i buried her cat that
was poisoned by my neighbours...
               poor ******... hope you like
the piece grave i hacked off...
                   don't worry, it didn't belong
to anyone,
      stacked like in a jewish cemetary...
who knows...
          maybe i buried a holocaust victim
into a body of a cat, that now lazes
                        around ha-shem's throne?
i still need to find that teenager
before his "uncle" finds me and give
him back the ten quid...
                     drank the ***** though...
funny...
     michael wouldn't have this sort
of problem if...
                                            grandparents...
but then you wonder about
  michael's parents...
             so... we much of your parents
lately?
                   there's a 1 in 4 chance that
                              one of them is still alive;
     mine was 3 in 4 till about 5 years ago.

A black brother came from Sranton, Missouri a long distance away
that ****** was thirsty amidst the long harboring pier
cascading falls sent shivers down his spine
he threw up over self

an issue of blood left the man in a panic
alone he began to stare at the wall
cobwebs filled his fragile egg shelled mind
he was a walking leader of the blind

just then a ***** came from underneath the train tracks
desperate
a dangerous ***** took aim at his head the walking dead
an Italian whop grew faint and was in certain circles

here we were in the melting ***
have you ever been down to the lowest pit
folks around but they don't give a flying ****
words can hurt in regards to our race

the common man the Peyton Place
make no mistake
filtered with a song
can't we put aside are differences and just get along ?

Going about your business doing chores.
When you hear some rumbling from your girls or your boys.

You hear one voice, "leave me alone."

And you honestly can admit they mean it by their tone.

Again, you hear that voice states, "leave me alone."

And you wisely shout to separate.
To no avail.

Then you hear a whop and a yell.
Here comes the hurt one with a story to tell?

While some parent or parents?
Would go for the hitter?
A wise parent will advise the one hit of what was said?

And that was "leave me alone."
Those are powerful words.
The outcome was detailed in the message.