What ten words, do you, to humanity, bequeath?”  An oddly, intriguing question;

inception to introspection, transformation and evolution.

That question, posed to Art Everman post 9-11, was asked of Art, by a bright one.

“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

angel; one of 400, 200 princes and 200 followers, 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.

“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.

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 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 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.


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.


North and South Korea.  Pakistan and India.  Iran and Israel.  Three vexing, problems.

 Now, what?  For two brothers of Art, a planet, threaten.

Three problems.  Two brothers.  One story.  A tiny subplot of the one story, His story,
is man’s history.  Tiny subplots of creation are ye tiny ye.
Seemingly surreally, Don is the recently elected President, of US.  Kim, is the veteran
Prez of the DPRK;  Art, 40 years drunken, his own barman.

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.


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.


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.”


“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?  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

That is to say, behavior mod is not limited to individuals; communities too, to it, are subject; it
is, indeed, a relatively simple science, the science, of habit.


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