A Watcher’s commission: I, Penueme, he who introduced mankind to poetry,
have been commissioned by The He who created him, to save humanity.
Humanity is devolving far too quickly; far more quickly, than it is evolving;
especially now, that both ISIS and The Donny are … arriving.
We Watchers, we rebel angels, (the Jinn, in Islam), defeated long, long ago by
the forces of our Creator (Allah/God/Jehovah/Yahweh), long to die.
We Watchers, we, the Nephilim of Genesis, long to die; our sentences, lengthy:
to view, in chains, your tragi-comic re-runs … perpetually.
Watchers, watching re-runs, in chains, perpetually; sounds like Hell to me,
but thankfully He is … The All-Merciful and … The Almighty.
We Watchers, lovers of women, have long … longed to die; it’s up to me,
Penueme, to help Art, a pitiful creature, write novel-like, poetry.
The commission is this one: Write to the children of the nations. Let 140
characters teach them the wisdom best to best Abu and The Donny.
Platformless, Art writes on 3 levels; 140 character tweets metamorphose to 980
character blog logs and a book; a very poor man’s, publicity.
AN ATLAS, POETIC: Epigrams become very concise blog log entries; 140×7=980
characters; alchemic letters, to the nations, epigrammatically.
A formula for poetry, no matter the tongue: Prior to an 83rd character, end
then with the sound that one would have the second line … end.
Lectors may confirm, if they persevere through so many tweets, that (errors
aside), each tweet/epigram’s length is, exactly, 140 characters.
Arthur Everman’s School of Free Poetry @chachomanopapa: the composition
of epigrams is Art’s specialty, no matter, the medium.
The medium written of (in the prior tweet) refers to the tongue of the tweeter.
@Chachomanopapa‘s Art tweets in American English, on Twitter.
Arthur Everman’s School of Poetry @chachomanopapa; on poetic composition,
of epigrammatic, couplets … no matter the tongue, of the citizen.
Pen’s commission to Art: Tweet. Blog. Pen, to children, epigrammatic, poetry.
Teach them an algorithm. For there is alchemy, in poetry.
BREAKING: @Uriminzok’s North Korea Fires Missile That Kicks @AbeShinzo and US In
Shins. cc: @CNN @UN @PutinRF_Eng @xijingping @MoonJaeIn
Money, it’s often said, is of evil, its root. It makes the world go round. Certainly,
much evil is done incident to money. ‘Tis the devil’s, currency.
However, it needs it not. For if anything makes the Earth go round, it is His love,
sweet love and not vile, evil. Currency is moot, if one has love.
What ten words do you, to humanity, bequeath?” It was a frightening, question;
“Who,” asked Art, “are you?” “I am one of 400 fallen ones.”
“Your counterpart,” said he, “am I,” he cryptically, replied. “For I am, Art, the fallen
one; of 400; 200 princes and; 200 followers, long forgotten.
Nephilim, the giant men of renown in Genesis, improvidently, fathered. Judgment,
reserved. Of 400,
all but three, in chains, await Judgment.
The chained are fallen angels who married and commenced in unions with human
women. who taught them, knowledge, by Him, forbidden.
The unchained three married, but fathered not Nephilim; “We are the last Watchers,
We watch still. And intervene. To Him, we still, do answer.
To wit, while 397 of the fallen, lusted after, married, and procreated Nephilim, three,
albeit fallen, revealed to man knowledge, not forbidden.
Holy Scriptures, Rick’s tome regarding individual purposes, Tony’s, on changes in
behavior and Mandela’s case augur, we again, may act akin.
This last soliloquy of Hamlet, nominally from Kim Don and Arthur, is for evolution:
Make man less petty and more open-mindedly, egalitarian.
IMAGINE
Imagine that when, on 12-21-12, nothing galactically cosmic happened, authors
Art, Don and Jong, surreal cyber brothers, went atwitter, together.
Imagine also that while Kim Jong-un and ‘Donald John Drumpf’ know of the third,
the third, Art, knows they are far too fond of their political words.
Not hard to imagine; the three, do indeed, tweet on twitter; but the two brighter
brothers’ world view isn’t as prescient, as a dimwit third brother’s.
Imagine too that words, those wondrous units, may be used by the minds of men
surreally may be used by man to make real, aspirations, human.
Imagine then in dreamy reveries Victorian soirees with history’s visionaries nightly
connecting; eating, drinking and crafting, epigrammatic, poetry.
Art imagines that of earthly forms of written expression most like heavenly hymns,
between chapter and verse, ’tis verse, that’s most favored by Him.
THE TWIT THAT TWEETS
The planet’s richest tongue (by word count), owes its wealth to its liberal borrowing,
from other languages, and history’s mystical, timing.
English is the Earth’s second, lingua franca. Now spoken globally, its rich vocabulary
is at home in song, psalm, prose, tweet and, poetry.
It may be there are more English-speaking Chinese, than Americans. More Chinese
than Americans may discern, a twit, from a tweet.
Tweet Is often understood; but twit? Not often. Twits are taunts. To twit is to titter
or taunt. Why then Twitter, and not, Tweeter?
Alternatively, a twit is a silly, annoying, person, or fool. How appropriate that a twit,
tweets on Twitter; a fool fools, sans wit, albeit.
Why Twitter and not Tweeter, albeit an intriguing riddle, is not the point, in debate.
The point is THE twit that’ been a tweeter of late.
The twit that tweets promises that if he dupes US, for the American people, a wall,
he’ll build, women, he’ll cherish and books he’ll sell.
A TWEETING TWIT
Indeed what is humorous may be gravely serious; to wit, an ugly-campaigner-in-chief
who aimed to be President, now is, the Commander-in-Chief.
What once seemed so preposterous as to be laughable, now is, no laughing matter;
that notwithstanding his tweets, and his golden showers.
But fear not, US, of America; for the mutant mouth that is the Donny’s outstanding
feature promises that, sooner, or later, him, we’ll be impeaching.
Earthlings: Humor Art. Imagine that ye, are brothers. And, imagine that on Twitter,
Arthur, Kim and Donald John Trump, have all done gone, atwitter.
The three champion alchemical congruency of thought; as when Space Laboratory
crews wave to us and we wave to them, in orbit, in outer space.
Following is history past and present and the poetic prophesies of dimwitted Arthur
Everman. It petitions ye to seek, alternative facts, and answers.
PROBLEM OPPORTUNITIES
North and South Korea. Pakistan and India. Iran and Israel. Three vexing, problems.
Now, what? For two brothers of Art, a planet, threaten.
Don has made it very clear that he’ll deal with Kim, with or without, China’s Xi,’s help.
Don will war without help. He needs but enemy, not, help.
If Xi’s China is not going to solve North Korea, we will, says he. And it shall be as easy
as ABC. “Believe me,” he says. “No one else can. Only me.”
If Xi does help, that shall be good for China, Don has said; if Xi doesn’t, that won’t be
good for anybody. Simplifying things, is twitter-diplomacy.
North and South Korea. Pakistan and India. Iran and Israel. Three vexing, problems.
Enter three brothers megalomaniacal, with three quill pens.
ART’S ART
Three clashes of countries. Three problems. Three opportunities. Kim, Don and Art
act out in this ‘live’ subplot of history, Art’s story, of history.
History is His story. Education’s alchemy. Hindsight’s 20-20. There’s wisdom, in irony.
Behavior modification’s not limited to just individuals only.
Dreaming of what is, what was and what may be, the learned literati muse on ontology;
like luminaries like Aristotle, Milton, Locke, and Socrates,
Like too, like Shakespeare, in Manchester’s land. and eastern peers, Lao-zi, Kong-fu-zi,
Muhammad and Gandhi. They, all see. Hindsight is 20-20.
And they see folly; their own of course, but far more importantly, they see humanity’s
folly. And they fear they see, a still-born, twitter-diplomacy.
Say what? A still-born, twitter-diplomacy? And Don’s to blame? Sad; twitter-diplomacy
could have been a contender. It could have been, somebody.
THE GOOGLING WATCHER
A synchronicity of events, pursuant to His grand plan, has brought three brothers grim,
Don, Art and the Kim, to do, what’s been bidden by Him.
It happened that Penemue, a Watcher Angel fallen, for his own God-damned salvation’s
sake, googled for a weakling to propose to, his salvation.
It was Penemue who the Bible says, “pointed out to them every secret of their wisdom.”
He taught (wo)men on using ink and paper for writing,
It’s been Penemue (Pen, to us), who have been the master of ceremonies at every-nightly
soirees, where deceased visionaries envision, via poetry.
In reveries dreamy and at soirees Victorian, history’s philosophers, poets and luminaries,
with wannabe megalomaniacs Kim, Don and Art, meet.
He googled too for great writers of prose to collaborate with these unlikeliest of brothers,
to best inject prose-like drama, into epic-like, poetry.
“Tweet, blog and pen alchemically,” said Pen, to the three brothers, grim. “Algorithmically
tweet epigrams into transformational, BUT pacific, poetry.”
HAIL HUMANITY
“Tweet blog and write, Kim, Don and Art, in the ‘twitterese’, I, Penemue, the last Watcher,
taught ye; an Esperanto-like hope, an Esperanto-like prayer.”
Twitterese came easy to Art. Administration came easiest to Kim. Spelling was Donny’s
forte. Penemue, organized his Liberation Force, accordingly.
To attend to national affairs of state, Kim and Don ceded to their weakling brother, Arthur
the penning of epigrams. Kim sees to invites; Don to humor.
To wit Kim now tweets, albeit vicariously, to such world leaders as Xi Jinping and Vlad Putin.
Reactionary others look on, entranced, in rapt, anticipation.
Pithy statements. One hundred forty characters. And in this ode and last hurrah to poetry,
to wisdom and to peace, a final plea. Please. Heed my plea!.
This last of my soliloquies, this filibuster of tragi-comic, so to speak, Herculean, epic poetry;
is a ‘last call’ for alternative facts and an alternative, history.
This last soliloquy of Hamlet, nominally from Kim Don and Arthur, is intended to make man
less narrow-minded and more open-minded and egalitarian.
Alternative facts. And an alternative history. To be or not to be? To that end, alternatively,
consider, another paradigm. Hail humanity, not sovereignty.
TO BE, OR NOT TO BE
To be, or not to be? That is for humanity, the threshold question. High-technology algorithms,
We dead poets, agree. Algorithms counter, authoritarianism.
It is Scripture (the Testaments, Qu’ran, the Book of Mormon, et. cetera) wherein lives wisdom,
and the uncommonly common, and ubiquitous, Rules, Golden.
The very cross-cultural commonness of Golden Rules, evidences, their importance. This repair
manual is in the spirit of that significance. We dead poets, care.
Is to be or not to be, ever to be, the question? Hamlet’s soliloquies were about nobility, tragedy
and comedy. The poets’ soliloquies herein, may be revelatory.
The children of Lord Allah/God/Jehovah/Yahweh are our blood brothers and sisters before Him,
it mattering not, our religion, nationality, nor our tribe to Him.
Art’s poetry acculturates! For the acculturation of (wo)man is but the modification, of behavior;
as applicable to group behavior, as it is to individual, behavior.
Theoretically, behavior modification is not limited but to individuals; surely, our communities
“I just fired the head of the FBI. He was crazy, a real nut job,” the Donny has said,
by leaks, that reek, of an obstruction of justice, predicted.
Trumpian taunts, and more low-brow vocabulary have led us to this: loser, crazy,
dumb, and now, nut job. On the devolution of diplomacy.
A criminal President? More lies in less time than any presidency in history surely
bodes poorly, for your seemingly, God-forsaken, humanity.
This last of my soliloquies, this filibuster of tragi-comic, so to speak, epic poetry;
a ‘last call’ to call for alternative facts, an alternative, history.
An alternative history. Alternative facts. To the end that, alternatively, a more or
less more natural paradigm, of poetry, not sovereignty, born.
@RealDonaldTrump: Why dump Drumpf? It’s because of secrets, you conceal.
Seven tweets wonder why tax returns you don’t, or won’t, reveal.
@RealDonaldTrump: We wonder why (really), your taxes you will not reveal,
publicly. Might it possibly be to, the results of audits, conceal?
@RealDonaldTrump: We wonder why (really), your taxes you will not reveal,
publicly. Does an absence of charitable contributions, you conceal?
@RealDonaldTrump: We wonder why (really) your taxes you will not reveal,
publicly. Might it be you pay no taxes; there’s nothing to conceal.
@RealDonaldTrump: We wonder why (really) your taxes you will not reveal,
publicly. Might it possibly be, they, your alleged mob ties, conceal?
@RealDonaldTrump: We wonder why (really), your taxes you will not reveal,
publicly. Might it possibly be they, oligarchic Russians, conceal?
@RealDonaldTrump: Why dump Drumpf? It’s because his secrets he conceals.
Seven tweets wonder why your tax returns, you don’t or won’t reveal.
THE WINE AND CHEESE MIRACLES 