Monthly Archives: October 2014

BEWARE: Read This Only if … Unafraid … of Being Afraid

Call me evil. Call me devil. Call me jinn. Call me whatever in the hell you want. I write; therefore, I am. This story (a poem within a poem, really), is really happening. Happy endings, on the other hand, are not happening … way more often … than not.

Halloween, my absolutely favorite day of the year, is, once again, upon us. In celebration thereof, I congratulate the overwhelming majority of you homo sapiens (lol) on your early-bird reservations. To update both unbelievers and skeptics alike on the goings-on here in my swell and swelling hell, read these poems in conjunction, as if they were, as they are; a diabolical, help-wanted, advertisement. No harm in that; after all, you shall … indubitably … believe me not.

Can you trust me to tell the truth? Of course not, sillies. I’m the evil one. I have malice in my heart, deceit in my thoughts and shall have lies, near perpetually … on the tips … of my tongues.

But this is not to scare you with the admittedly horrific details regarding my psyche, much less, my physique. Believe you me, they’re pretty scary. Rather, this is to scare you with rhyming lines about time consigned. Your time … wise guys … is near done.

A few prefatory notes to my want-ad-like-poems; firstly, make no mistake. Heaven, like hell, is a fact, Jack. In fact … no other place (but Heaven) … is eternal.

Secondly; believe it or not, contrary to popular belief, all you evildoers and non-believers DON’T join me, much less Him, immediately upon the termination of your worthless lives. It’s actually not until after Judgment Day that the festivities down here are scheduled to begin. If you don’t believe me, just re-read what the New Testament and Koran reveal … regarding … the infernal.

Finally, take note of this: You needn’t be much of an evildoer to join me. Being a non-believer is more than sufficient. And you don’t even have to submit a resume of your evil accomplishments, nor any notarized certification of your disbelief. Both misdeeds and/or disbelief … are continually recorded … for posterity.

Just let your deeds and your misdeeds, whether affirmative acts or omissions to act, speak for you. In the majority of cases by far, like me, you’ll fail. You’ll fail to love Him above all. You’ll fail to love your brother as you do yourself. Believe you me … you’ll fail … most miserably.

My power play, borne of vanity and jealousy, backfired on me. But like an AIDS-infected sex-addict, I’m going to take as many of you suckers as I can, down with me. The greatest of your generals have divided to conquer. It’s been much easier for me. In dividing yourselves, you’ve made my conquest of you … and your brothers and sisters … near effortless.

Just keep on keeping on. Keep on lying. Keep on cheating. Keep on denying that you’re your brother’s keeper. I’ve plagiarized the poem that follows from one of your own. As you read it, you may well nod your head in somber acknowledgement. Thankfully though, you won’t take it to heart … You’re doing just fine … To that … I do attest.

CALL ME EVIL: By Bubba, the Devil (II)

Call me evil. Call me devil. Call me jinn. Call me whatever in unholy
hell you want. I write; therefore, I am. This story
(a poem within a poem, really), is really happening. Happy
endings, on the other hand, are not
happening … way more often … than not.

Halloween, my absolutely favorite day of the year, is, once again, upon us.
In celebration thereof, allow us
here in hell to congratulate and welcome
the overwhelming majority of you homo sapiens on your early-bird reservations.
You are all well come to my unholy kingdom …. Welcome!

To update both unbelievers and skeptics alike on
the goings-on here in hell, read these poems in conjunction.
Suspend your disbelief. These are diabolical help-wanted advertisements, not,
a mere spoof. No harm in that; after all, you shall … indubitably … not
believe me … but rather … believe me … not.

CALL ME EVIL: By Bubba, the Devil (I)

Call me evil. Call me devil. Call me jinn. Call me whatever in unholy
hell you want. I write; therefore, I am. This story
(a poem within a poem, really), is really happening. Happy
endings, on the other hand, are not
happening … way more often … than not.

Halloween, my absolutely favorite day of the year, is, once again, upon us.
In celebration thereof, allow us
here in hell to congratulate and welcome
the overwhelming majority of you homo sapiens on your early reservations.
You are all well come to my unholy kingdom …. Welcome!

Irony, the International Criminal Court and Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi (V)

150 Sunni Muslims unearthed in mass grave; yet another crime against humanity
by the Islamic State … and its ‘Caliph’ … Abu Bakr … al-Baghdadi.

The ‘Caliph’ can’t kill fast enough to suit himself. Thankfully, he’s also sufficiently
brazen enough to be well on his way … to convicting himself … ironically.

For would it not be ironic if the Islamic State’s very own video postings are to be
evidence in the International Criminal Court … against … al-Baghdadi.

Verily, it would be supremely ironic if the Islamic State’s very own video postings
were to be used … as evidence … in an ICC proceeding.

For normally, in any ICC investigatory proceeding of crimes against humanity
probative evidence is less than enough to promise … a verdict of “guilty”.

But here, a sociopath on a par already with the worst sociopaths in world history,
provides evidence against himself … most fortuitously.

Most fortuitously, that is, for us; stupidly, for him and his ilk. And how much more
ironic might this be … were an outcome to be … AN END TO WAR!

Irony, the International Criminal Court and Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi (IV)

150 Sunni Muslims unearthed in mass grave; yet another crime against humanity
by the Islamic State … and its ‘Caliph’ … Abu Bakr … al-Baghdadi.

The ‘Caliph’ can’t kill fast enough to suit himself. Thankfully, he’s also sufficiently
brazen enough to be well on his way … to convicting himself … ironically.

For would it not be ironic if the Islamic State’s very own video postings are to be
evidence in the International Criminal Court … against … al-Baghdadi.

Verily, it would be supremely ironic if the Islamic State’s very own video postings
were to be used … as evidence … in an ICC proceeding.

For normally, in any ICC investigatory proceeding of crimes against humanity
probative evidence is less than enough to promise … a verdict of “guilty”.

But here, a sociopath on a par already with the worst sociopaths in world history,
provides evidence … against himself … surreally … most fortuitously.

Irony, the International Criminal Court and Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi (III)

150 Sunni Muslims unearthed in mass grave; yet another crime against humanity
by the Islamic State … and its ‘Caliph’ … Abu Bakr … al-Baghdadi.

The ‘Caliph’ can’t kill fast enough to suit himself. Thankfully, he’s also sufficiently
brazen enough to be well on his way … to convicting himself … ironically.

For would it not be ironic if the Islamic State’s very own video postings are to be
evidence in the International Criminal Court … against … al-Baghdadi.

Verily, it would be supremely ironic if the Islamic State’s very own video postings
were to be used … as evidence … in an ICC proceeding.

For normally, in any ICC investigatory proceeding of crimes against humanity
probative evidence is less than enough to promise … a verdict of “guilty”.

Irony, the International Criminal Court and Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi (II)

150 Sunni Muslims unearthed in mass grave; yet another crime against humanity
by the Islamic State … and its ‘Caliph’ … Abu Bakr … al-Baghdadi.

The ‘Caliph’ can’t kill fast enough to suit himself. Thankfully, he’s also sufficiently
brazen enough to be well on his way … to convicting himself … ironically.

For would it not be ironic if the Islamic State’s very own video postings are to be
evidence in the International Criminal Court … against … al-Baghdadi.

Verily, it would be supremely ironic if the Islamic State’s very own video postings
were to be used … as evidence … in an ICC proceeding.

Tweets and Twits (II)

English is only the world’s second lingua franca. A rich vocabulary and easy
rhymes are at home in song … psalm … prose … or poetry.

The richest tongue (by word count) owes its extreme wealth due to heavy
borrowing from other tongues and the quirks of His timing … uncanny.

To wit: There are more English-speaking Chinese than Americans; more Chinese
wits than Americans … perhaps … know a twit … from a tweet.

Tweet is commonly understood … but twit? Twits are taunts. To twit is to titter
or taunt. Hmm. Curiously, a popular host is … Twitter … not Tweeter.

Why Twitter and not Tweeter, albeit, an intriguing riddle, isn’t the point. Rather,
it’s just that more people, than bluebirds, are tweeting … on Twitter.

Titters and taunts are tweeted and re-tweeted on Twitter, sometimes, mean-spiritedly;
better to be a bubbler … if more … good-naturedly.

Irony, the International Criminal Court and Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi

150 Sunni Muslims unearthed in mass grave; yet another crime against humanity
by the Islamic State … and its ‘Caliph’ … Abu Bakr … al-Baghdadi.

The ‘Caliph’ can’t kill fast enough to suit himself. Thankfully, he’s also sufficiently
brazen enough to be well on his way … to convicting himself … ironically.

For would it not be ironic if the Islamic State’s very own video postings are to be
evidence in the International Criminal Court … against … al-Baghdadi.

Women are HIS Children … Too (V)

Women are HIS Children Too (V)

Click on the link for insight into the gender gap; what it is; and how it regrettably
is … holding us … back. http://wef.ch/m01NP.

Women (and girls) are His children too. The Truth is hidden in plain view, in nonfiction.
There is no absolute but One, and it is, Him.

This tribe-like, nation thing’s not working. We’ll need to find a way to acculturate …
before … at this late date … it gets … far too late.

Holy Scriptures, Rick’s ‘A Purpose Driven Life’, Tony’s tomes on positive,
change and Nelson’s Commission … auger solutions … palliative.

Rick, Tony and Nelson augur hopeful realities; for if destinies individually may be
purposefully forged, ipso facto, so may we forge … a global destiny.

‘AN ATLAS … POETIC’ is a manuscript that begs all … “To be or not to be?”;
it is a question that is, as a plan in itself, an insightfully …

… wise way to inter-connect, to help, to get help, to learn, earn and prosper, to be
in peace …. To so be … be … connectedly.

Why then, ‘AN ATLAS … POETIC’? It’s all about whether to be or not to be,
notwithstanding, Tower-of-Babel-like languages … and nationalities.

‘AN ATLAS … POETIC’ is a clarion call to action; it’s an all-points-bulletin
for Bohemians; ‘global’ citizens … not ‘national’ … citizens.

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