Kim’s recalcitrant. Don’s petulant. But Art’s insistent. “I’m an American

citizen 2nd class. Can’t get my life saved … because I’m brown.”

A tall tale recapitulation: Kim, Don & Art: 3 megalomaniacal bit players

in Urantian history. And Pen’s plan for teaching us … a lesson.

Kim’s dictating. Don’s fomenting. Art’s drowning. Perception, is, reality.

Arthur’s billion gallon soon-to-be reality, awaits, a dam buster.

Perception, is reality. More-Mart greeter and 2nd class American citizen

Art, in Puerto Rico’s, terminal.  He may soon be drowning.

Donald inartfully let Kim up the ante.  His misstatements, lies and Kim’s

reactionary interpretations, to them (to us), and, to … him.

It is, what it is.  And, it is because it is what it is, that what shall be, only,

maybe, shall be.  It may be, if decisions, are taken … freely.


Peace and prosperity ought be the primary order of business, of nations.

Not sovereignties’ militaries; not militaries of … sovereigns.

IF photo-bombing threats posed by Jim, HR, and Rex, pass … into history,

ye may get on with nations’ businesses, that is … prosperity.

Sony. Guys, hacked. Producer-makers of machines that ironically, may be

favorite traders.  If photo-bomb threats pass … into, history.

Kim’s DPRK, Don’s, USA and Moon’s ROK. Art’s music, prose and … poetry,

propaganda.  Sony players, help (wo)men, wonder … wisely.

On a rock (Urantia), a poor DPRK and a rich, Republic of, Korea.  The ROK;
its people, fear Kim.  He fears them and propaganda’s, sway.
Kim: Devote your life to proving that love is the greatest thing, on the rock
(Urantia), a DPRK and the Republic of Korea (ROK). (192:2.1)
Buzz confirms propaganda drones are being duly readied just in case, Jim,
HR and Rex and Nikki prevail upon Don, not to harm … Kim.

Urantian governments.  And individual, Urantian citizens, believe ye, not.

Between a ROK.  And a hard place.  Don’s put ye .. on the spot.

Kim:  Do what Sun Tsu would do.  Save, face.  Don’s baited, and tricked ye.

Deal, ere a very possibly early end to the Donald’s presidency.

Urantia.  The ‘Wild West’, of His Universes.  Case in point.  Arthur is … both
a fugitive from justice, and the sheriff.  Art.  A love, case-study.
Art.  Soldier.  Posted, to the frontier.  Emily, a girl back home, awaiting him.
Love.  Family.  Universal life is like Urantian life, only … better.
“Right back at ya,” ruefully, Arthur, thought back to her.  “My love of Emily
is my sacrifice in the face of the loving gaze of a loving Father.”
“Be brave, my Art,” she re-thought to him.  And her thought, through space,
raced, faster even than light.  Binding him tightly, to her, space.
“Be brave, my Art,” thought Emily to him.  “I’m praying ye pray … especially
to our Father to pen His wisdom, for brothers’, fateful … hours.”
Cosmology.  Autobiography.  Metaphysical allegory.  Space, our inner and our
outer.  And Twitter.  For man, and man’s poetry, comes an hour.
Comes a fateful hour when mankind, allegorically makes a fateful … decision.
Akin to the one happening to everyone, once, upon … a decision.
Dream number one.  Precursor, to the Victorian-style soirees, thereafter, Ham
would be hosting as M.Cs. (master of ceremonies), Pen and Ham.
Pen, and Ham.  Short, for Penemue and Hamlet.  Art’s, Masters, of Ceremonies.
M.C.s, of every-nightly soirees, daily hosted by, an Angel-Trainee.
Arthur B. Everman, on behalf of our Father, presumes, for His Universes’ sake,
to show that a showman and props, malapropos … oft are … fake.


This is the tallest tale, ever told. A tall tale, of a tall Don, a short Kim and a skinny,

Art, short … too. Three, megalomaniacal, wannabes, are Kim, Don and Arty.

Three wannabes are, Kim, Donald and Art. Kim is, the dictator. Don, is the speller

and dictator-wannabe. Arthur’s, the writer; of truth, a wannabe … speaker.

In soirees, nightly, Kim, Don and Art pen … poetry. Epic poetry, in pursuit of Pen’s

plan; to save, His Urantia … from Urantians … for your Urantian … children.

Urantia’s legatee, children. The blameless, innocents. Forced to buy into systems,

rigged. Brothers Kim, Don and Art want, more than anything, to save them.

“Bomb me … metaphysically … not physically,” suggested Kim, “if ye wish … to box

me in. Metaphysically, bombing me. That’s thinking … well out of the box.”

“For physical bombardment dismembers. Metaphysical bombing seeks members.

For in the hearts and minds of member (wo)men is a stoker and an ember.”

And Don replied, “Well said, Kim. Rex, HR and Jim want a decapitation operation.

But I know better than anybody who has ever been all about … everything.”

Art reacted unexpectedly, to two very strange men unexpectedly … at the foot,

of his bed, commenting surreally, on the daintiness of his … feet.

Art, seemingly nonchalantly replied, “the daintiness of feet aside … gentlemen,

pray tell, why are you … here?  And, who is Donny … gentlemen?


And Ham and Pen came to me and said, in unison, “Come the morrow, neither
ex-Marias nor this one, harm ye.  Ye must however, be a tweeter.

Art’s crackling hair had been closely followed by a sizzling sound … that … too,

had come from his thunder-stricken and radically new … hair-do.

Suddenly with a bolt he’d remembered.  Not his tired and soon (maybe), to be,

retired … heart.  And not Maria, the ex, either.  It was … Twitter. Art

Art recalled Ham’s … how to start.  “Come the morrow, he recalled he and Pen

(Penemue), had said in unison, “neither any ex-Maria, nor this one,

shall harm ye.  However, Mr. Art Everman, ye must henceforth be …a tweeter.

Do this in my (and in His, memory), if ye would be … a peacemaker.

An electrified Art against howling and swirling winds made a dash like a bee

against 145 mph winds, to a man cave grotto … soon, not … to be.

Then Arthur felt a tug on a toe.  Then, two toes.  Great!  Yet another, mystery.

Either someone’s tugging two toes or two are tugging … one only.

“Man oh man, “Pen spoke, first. “Dem’s some dainty, feet. Tiny, ain’t they,” he

said, turning to Hamlet.  Ham nodded … adding … “Like Donny’s”.


Crackling hair on end, Art did not pause to think, what in the hell a clear day

was doing, smack in the midst, of a hurricane, like Maria, today.

In a beginning, on a clear day by ball lightning Art was stricken. The thunder

clap was louder than anything Arthur, had ever before … heard.

Arthur’s taken hope in what would ordinarily be, a pretty hopeless, situation.
He had thought he’d see, come morrow, sheriffs, for an eviction.
Ah, tomorrow.  Hope’s, spring eternal.  Springing soon too if the sheriffs only,
don’t, in the morrow, show.  Then it’ll be … Maria and him, only.
Yeah, right.  More like Maria and him … and 7 billion more Marians, and him.
Like Kim and Sol.  And Don and Melania …  And so on … And on.
And on to seven billion, or so.  Like too, Arts and Marias, not of a one percent,
like Kim, Sol, Don, and Melania, but of the, ninety-nine, percent.
Yea, unlike Adam and Eve and Cain and Abel, Arts and Marias of one percent,
are too often treated poorly by those, of the ninety-nine percent.
Unlikely to be evicted tomorrow, a bottle, from his hand fell, and he felt it fall
while drifting in dreams … dreaming … of groundswells’ … walls.
And Ham and Pen came to me and said, in unison, “Come the morrow, neither
ex-Marias nor this one, harm ye.  Ye must however, be a tweeter.
As cynical as any man, Art feels, that he is.  Terminal, too.  So say, his doctors.
Hopeless, as Maria ravages him, yet hopeful, sheriffs, may defer.
Hopeful is Art.  As hopeful as can be.  Or at least as hopeful as one impossibly

may be, given everything that’s been happening, so implausibly.

Kim:  Now’s the time to pull ‘triggers’.  Appreciate and do not pardon the pun,

ironically, every letter of every word, makes it, as pun … one.

Munitions?  Out of the question; rather the question is:  Bomb with children’s

poetry, or, the poetry, of all of the generals’ very intelligent men.

The question may be whether to bomb with 1. munitions or with 2. children’s

poetry, or 3. the poetry of all of the … generals’ … intelligent men.

1. Korea 2. US 3. Russia 4. China 5. Japan 6. Pakistan 7. India 8. Israel 9 … Iran.


 1. Kim 2. Moon 3. Vlad 4. Xi 5. Abe 6. Shahid 7. India 8. Ben 9. An … Ayatollah.



A billion pieces of sundry items of propaganda were parachuted, ballooned or

shot over, Korean lines, over the duration, of the … (conflict) … war.

Kim in Pyongyang.  Don in New York.  Art in San Juan.  The three listen closely
 to Don’s speech to, New York’s, United Nations … General Assembly.

At a mortified UN, a mocking Donald vows to kill Kim if Trump-brand dynasty

properties (food, for his family), are, at all, targeted … threateningly.

We know you’re new at this.  Already you’re doing better, being, presidential.

Listening, following instructions and remedial reading, all, remedial.

On what to do re Kim and Moon, given gaffes thus far; use twitter diplomacy.

Greet him, Donald.  Ask, of his family.  Do not demean him, meanly.

Don’t do Don as is your wont, meanly, demean, whomever may be facing ye.

Recall a carrot and a stick.  Invite, with a carrot.  With a stick … beat.

Most threats, Don, won’t cut it.  But there is one, Don, exception, exceptional.

Just ask Jim, HR and Rex.  They’ll recall US operations, psychological.

Propaganda:  Kim fears it almost as much as he fears, the passage … of time.

Time waits not for Kim, Don, Art, or any man.  Their enemy’s … time.


Kim’s, North Korea. A so-called, Hermit Kingdom. A so-called pariah state, it’s

also, a cult-of-personality, state.  Kim’s the alpha-male, top-dog in it.

Kim … and his father … and his father’s, father, have long been … threatening.

Threatening, is become, unfortunately, culturally, so, North Korean.

The dynamic’s, complex.  Don’s, unfit.  Kim’s, emboldened.  Art is, really … old.

Time’s short for everybody.  And Art knows Kim fears … getting, old.

I know Don, the builder-dictator-wannabe, now, presiding.  And, Dictator Kim,

the dictating … dictator.  And … I know too … why caged birds … sing.

Has a brother’s ambition always been, the Antichrist to be?  I know the Donny,

builder-dictator-wannabe.  And Kim, the dictator.  And, I know .. me.

Is Don, a man unbound by ambition, the Antichrist of our … future’s … history?

Worse yet.  Has Don’s ambition always been … an Antichrist … to be?


Is Don the Antichrist, indeed?  Even Arthur his brother by this speech has been,

taken aback.  Is my brother … Don, the Antichrist … I wonder, again?

Is Don the Antichrist?  In a rambling, contradictory and surely … inflammatory

speech ‘His Excellency’, the Donald, Urantia, for war … us … readies.

Don’s (is this guy the Antichrist?) speech to his gathered, brothers … fake news,

half-baked, half-truths, and, bold … lies.  cc:

Kim:  It is best by far, to win (are ye copying, Don), without, actually … fighting.

Everybody wants to win.  Ye.  Don.  Art.  But Art’s been thinking ….”

One last clarion call, Pen the Watcher plans, for man’s, last stands.  Watcher

Pen’s chosen as protagonists, the brothers, Kim, Don, and Arthur.



Kim, Don and Art amuse. 3 characters use 140 of them, to muse on history’s,

muses.  Dead poets, philosophers, and scientists. Dead on, history.

As if letters to Urantia, from Art’s secret lover, Emily … and from her friends,

Ovid, Rumi and Willy.  Friends gracing pages, beginnings, to ends.

Aristotle’s ‘all is number’ is, as if letters to Urantia … from my beloved Emily,

whispering softly to me to be brave into the terrible … face of thee.

And on:  “Kim, Xi, Vlad & Don:  Lead, less nationally.  More, internationally!”

Ye can’t all, win.  Yet everybody … may win.  If Kim, ye … hear me.”

Art went on:  “Views and thoughts to a communally transformed, humanity!

Ye: Kim, Xi, Vlad and Don, et al., need to … lead … less … nationally!

“What if 7 billion of ye were to view a view and think a thought, communally,

concurrently?  And views and thoughts transformed communally?”



Kim:  It is best by far, to win (are ye copying, Don), without, actually … fighting.

Everybody wants to win.  Ye.  Don.  Art.  But Art’s been thinking ….”

Recall Kim Sun Tzu’s, excellence, of victory:  Subduing enemies … sans fighting.

The most excellent victory is, breaking resistance … sans … fighting.

… of ye and our 7 billion brothers.  Don wants to drone ye.  His generals, agree.

But Jim, HR & Rex would drone ye not with

munitions … but poetry.

… threatening, not merely, temporal interests, but more importantly, interests,

evolutionary.  I love you Kim.  I love, Don too.  It’s in the interests …

“Yea, Kim.  Don’s crazy, maybe.  Ye too. Methinks not though.  In your interests,

ye are acting … interests ye have boxed yourselves into.  Interests …

“Yea, Kim.  Don’s crazy, maybe.  So they say, of you.  But I … Art … your brother,

know better.  Crazier, are the 7 billion, tweeting not, their brothers.”

“Buzz, my trusty, cyber-spy fly espies, military plans, yours, Don’s and Don’s

generals.  Like Cain, he wants to kill ye.  Like Cain, he’d have, Kim’s.”

So sayeth Arthur Everman, megalomaniacal brother, to ye, and to Don; founder

of the @Chachomanopapa School of Poetry, and he sayeth further …

“For the riches and power, ye, Kim and Don, have sought, are diametrically … in

opposition, to the riches and power I have sought … in His, wisdom.”

Horace Walpole’s world: “The world is a tragedy to those who feel but a comedy

to those who think.”  Tragi-comedy … says Art … “to those … like me.”

Don’s your Cain-like brother. He speaks with a forked, tongue. Drone-gifts; news

up-coming … Don’s generals … present, arms. .

You and Don, temporarily, get yours.  Arthur … in freedom and in anonymity by

revelations’ epiphanies cumulative, eventually got his … bye and bye.

We three brothers yearn, for riches and for power.  You, got yours.  Don, got his.

Art, in freedom and anonymity by revelation and epiphany … got his.

Kim: More-Mart greeter Arthur’s a Prodigal Son, of his Father. He’s your brother.

e’s Don’s brother too. We three yearn, for riches … and for … power.

All kidding aside, Kim.  Don’s your Cain-like … megalomaniacal … cyber, brother.

And humble More-Mart greeter Arthur’s a Prodigal Son, of his Father.

Due to Kim Jong un’s deity personality, a casket in the foreground, is, incredibly,

to ceremonially, sanctify … and forever, shelter … his bullshit, buried.

A casket accents Kim’s deity personality.  A casket’s to bury and … ceremonially,

sanctify, the sanctimonious, and sacrilegious bullshit, there … buried.

Drones easily could have killed the DPRK’s sovereign Kim, in a royal outhouse on

this festive, royal, dump, occasion.  Festive, for Kim.  Others, fear Kim.

Here (see   lunatics, are everywhere.  Everywhere.

Like over there.  Over there, in the darkness.  Light … not everywhere.


RELAX URANTIA!  Buzz, Art’s trusty cyber-spy-fly, espies from walls, everywhere.

Between Kim, Don and Moon … lunatics seem virtually … everywhere.

At last night’s soiree, Kim fully agreed, with Donald and with Arthur.  Persuasive,

indeed, would be, poetry-prose-music-propaganda, drones … coercive.

A lip-flapping president, immodestly, self-described as, modern-day, presidential.

DEPLORABLE!  However, he is, awfully … modern-day … presidential.

Kim nodded affirmatively.  Unacceptably persuasive would be … coercive replies

whether poetry, prose or music.  NO TO DRONES lying in … my skies.

No.  Absolutely not.  No to drones flying and lying in and over North Korean skies

sovereign, in a sovereign land.  Pray, tell me, the drones … shan’t fly.

Art glanced over to Don.  Pulsating lips, just beginning their anticipated vibrating.

Art, pushed ‘mute’.  Embracing Kim, Art said to him, “Time for healing.”

“DUDE!  Wake the fuck up!  Ye’ve just fired two missiles over Japan.  Your unclean

hands are, as Professor Lawson might say, filthily, unclean.

Filthily unclean, Kim, are bloody, hands.  Kim reeks, of Satan’s sulfur.  Ye’d best in

good faith, negotiate with Don.  Then the Art said to them …

“I’m smart!  I, know words!  I wrote (ed. note: NOT!) The Art Of The Deal.” Arthur

pushed mute on his remote, finding pathetic, a lip, flapper.

Pathetic, lip … flappers.  A pet peeve … of Art’s.  Bad enough, from run-of-the-mill

citizens.  His so-called speech (and speeches), speak of Americans … very ill.

A lip-flapping president, immodestly, self-described as, modern-day, presidential.

DEPLORABLE!  A presidency, however, awfully, modern-day … presidential.


Art’s poetry-prose-music-propaganda drones.  Measures so effectively … coercive,

and inherently non-violent.  Eminently sensible.  And especially, persuasive.

On the megalomaniacs, Don and Kim and Art:  On madcap, games of thrones.  On

the acting of maybe mad, mad, men and Art’s poetry … propaganda, drones.

Security demands that we keep all plans, save lunch, from Don.  His are loose lips

mounted low, very low, on his hips. Once told something, vibrate, his … lips.

Xi, Don, Abe and Moon have top-secret plans for top-secret gifts, for brother, Kim.

Pardon me. Did I say Don? Security demands that we keep plans … from him.

Guarded, top-secretly: Top-secret plans of Xi, Don, Abe and Moon’s … for brother,

Kim. A gift … weaponized … from Kim’s so emergently, pissed-off … brothers.

We, Kim and Don hereby order, that all global citizens meet, via twitter, in space.

We order that citizens CONCURRENTLY view Art’s images to and from, space.

On the megalomaniacs, Don and Kim and Art:  On madcap, games of thrones. On

the acting of maybe, mad, mad men and Art’s poetry … propaganda … drones.


Arthur, mind you, dear lector (like all modern generals), is a student of Kim’s Sun

Tsu. Art Everman’s military strategies reflect Kim and the venerable … Sun.

That Kim is Korean and Sun is Chinese is precisely the point of this epic, exercise.

That a tell-tale humanity is made a tall tale. Total, obfuscation. Totally, lies.



Tall tales are fictional. But beware this tale’s nonfictional location. It’s a setting in

dire need of an adequate medium, of cross-cultural pedagogic, instruction.

Verily beware this tale’s fictionally nonfictional, setting. A one and only Earth i.e.,

Urantia. We’ve sent Art to empower ye by the power of Penemue’s poetry.

Kim, Don and Art amuse. Three characters, use 140 of them, to muse on history’s

muses, poets, philosophers and scientists. The dead, on dead on … history.

Tall tales are generally if not by definition fictional. Is this exception? Resolution

is an author’s privilege. Lectors may scroll to ends; if they, can find them.

An alchemical algorithm is this tall tale, in the lingua franca, of the King’s English,

unencrypted. Not just for the English anymore is the language, of English.

For relatively rich is the language of English. By word count, the richest language.

But words oft get in the way. So, combo the pics, with prose … and poetry.

And set the two to music, in this case, NORTH-Korean-like, to make number three,

the music that enraptures, in all the Urantian languages, so enthrallingly.


A Korean. Two Americans; one of the first class, Don, and one of the second, Art.

And the one of the second class is of the ninety-nine. Don’s … of one … apart.

“We have been kicking the can down the road, and we are out of road,” says HR,

of Kim on rapprochement. There’s no there (road) there. None. So says HR.

There’s no there (road to peace) there, says HR … between … Donald, and … Kim.

Prolog to epilogs: Of real news in fake-time. On Don and Kim and Art; war’s fog,

defoggers. On (wo)man’s great prolog forward, toward, ever greater, epilogs.

Then Penemue said to Art. “Ponder … first. Only, thereafter, pen. For … what ye

have to say, albeit fundamental, sounds radically revolutionary to too, many.


Jerry’s comedy about nothing, has nothing, on Art’s comedy. For Arts’s comedy,

is about everything. Caveat. Dear, lector: This long poem’s, epically lengthy.

For photo-prose-poetry IS humanity’s best weapon, against the weapons of war,

of Don and Kim. Mightier than swords … pens, after all!  And pics, far, more.

Worth more are pictures than countless words.  Children!  Citizens!  Lend … me,

Ham, your ears.  Hear Art’s, Dear John.  If Urantia’s (Earth’s) Angel-Trainee,

Art Everman, fails in his mission impossible, what’s never happened … happens.

Arthur shan’t earn, angel wings! “No big deal,” thinks meanly, aloud, the Don.

But if Arthur earns not his coveted wings … da shit … will really start happening.

Only, faster.  Much, faster.  For now, it’s just Don and the Kim … a-threatening.

I’m pissed.  Ye’ve no idea what Art’s suffered through.  I Hamlet … of Willy fame,

madman, Prince of Denmark, am but one of many narrators, to ye … entertain.

For I Willy’s Hamlet, noble ignoble,was a fool too.  And we who pen from graves,

pen, hoping your children pen, and pray, too.  Ne’er again, be ruled, by knaves.


Kim and Don know.  Deepak, well, has taught them:  No matter the situation … evil,

lurks.  Remind, yourself, “I have choices, to make.  Do good … or do … evil.”

And so Arthur’s brothers Kim and Don knew, having played as well Ouija just a day

before that Arthur was very easily confused by his choices, most, everyday.

By the time then that they next played their favorite game of Monopoly, Kims’ Kim,

and the Don had a fix … in.  Ganged up on Art were the Donald and the Kim.

Donald and Kim ganged up on Art when they next played … Monopoly.  Conspiracy,

in a Monopoly, game.  Imagine.  A prodigal son, born of a game of Monopoly.

They knew better.  Deepak, well, had taught them:  No matter, the situation … evil,

lurks.  Remind yourself, “I have choices to make …. Do good … or do evil.”


Verily, it depends on both the Kim and the Donald. Verily too, it now also depends

on that also, Hamlet-like, ham, Arthur. All in all, all, depends, on them.

Propaganda drones, bombing Pyongyang; an infinitesimal part of a much … larger

story. Kim’s the dictator. Don’s the speller. Art, an astonished, writer.

Kim’s the dictator. Don’s the speller (builder and the dictator, wannabe). Arthur’s

the writer of Pen’s poetry and, the prodigal, brother, of his … brothers.

A prodigal to Kim and the Don has been their brother, Art. The reason underlying,

Art’s sojourns abroad? It’s the reason’s why Kim and Don … keep lying.

The reason why Kim and the Don, even to this day lie, so ever constantly, fatefully,

is owing to a playing one day of the simple board game of … Monopoly.

A game of Monopoly’s the reason why, Kim and the Don … , even to this day, ever

constantly, lie. From that day onward they’ve had no Thought Adjuster.

Enter, to the rescue the ever wannabe, prodigal brother, and now, Angel-Trainee,

Arthur Everman. To save his brothers, Kim and Don and all, humanity.


No one’s noticed that Kim, Don and Art have a back-channel … of communication.

Communicating nightly, they refrain from any diurnal, communications.

This they do because it daily, keeps them apart. A reminder of when chosen men,

like Goliath, like David, did battle in proxy of their respective, tribesmen.

So best kept apart are, says their brother, Art, Kim and Don. Given their druthers,

they’d, in a cage, in an extravaganza, settle matters, one way or another.

Given that it is what it is, though, that’s not happening! So Art turned to … Google.

Google’s (forbear for odd names) great, for names, needed to be, googled.

The dictator Kim the visionaries (now deceased), see, at evening soirees … starkly,

contrast with the reckless and diabolical Kim … the one … ye see … on TV.

And the builder, the speller here, is also at Art’s soirees unlike the fake, daily, Don,

ye daily, see on TV. Here he is a humble … and a seemingly heroic … Don.

Art too, at his soirees, differs from the daily, introverted, Art. Like … Kim and Don,

he is megalomaniacal. Megalomaniacs nightly, exercising … imagination.


Warmongering by Kim Jong un’s DPRK, is, under international law, done illegally.

So thinks (allegedly), More-Mart greeter Arthur Everman, very extra legally.

Treat not lightly, Arthur’s opinion. Not, because it’s Art’s. It’s because his opinion

is rightly the distinguished opinion of academic in the field, Arthur Lawson.


authoritative statement of the law …. So sayeth Art … of @chachomanopapa.

@WHNSC @StateDept @DeptofDefense:  HR.  Rex.  Jim.  Fair or not, it has befallen

to ye three, of all of the presidents’ men to somehow, neutralize, a madman.

HR.  Rex.  Jim.  Men called to neutralize, however many madmen … may threaten.

ye are called upon to so do, to secure the security of the nation and citizens.

Three, sane men.  Two, maybe, insane, men.  The maybe, insane ones … weapons,

nuclear, have.  Enter Pen.  Enter Art.  Enter poetry, as an, armed … weapon.

Student of Sun Tsu and More-Mart greeter Art on Art’s three-pronged … strategy.

1st:  Nikki’s diplomacy, traditional.  Get Xi, and Vlad, to propaganda, agree.


2nd:  Jim, HR, Rex:  Psy-ops.  3rd:  Don’s Twitter diplomacy.  Lie, Don.  Lie to Kim.

You know.  Sugar and spice.  Everything nice. It’s the nature of diplomacy.

It’s diplomacy, Don.  Between parties diplomatic it’s understood that everybody’s

lying.  Nikki’s, good.  You’re, great.  But the generals’, psy-ops … may be key.

Kim knows of psy-ops.  He loves his.  He hates, yours.  Like father, like son … and

grandson.  Moon too, knows psy-ops, Kim’s fathers, and playing, his hands.

Don won’t want Kim to know what he’s up to.  Don’s generals know of Kim’s fear

of propaganda.  And Kim knows not, what’s up with Don.  And so, he fears.

Kim, fears.  He fears, everyone.  He fears, everything.  Most of all, Kim fears time.

And propaganda.  Kim fears propaganda may rob him, of precious … time.

Moon, the south Korean president, is ex-military.  He knows Kim.  He knows Kim

goes ballistic whenever southern folk, rain propaganda bombs, upon him.

Kim fears psychological operations.  Like regimes.  He loves his.  He hates, yours.

Like fathers and sons. His; not yours. Moon knows, why Kim fears yours.


On the less than historically traditional, story-telling poetry as arm, of militaries.

Overtly military operation options, are limited.  Photo-letter-bomb … Kim!

Three clashes of nations.  Three problems.  Three opportunities, brothers three,

act out in a subplot of history an interweaving of His story, with our story.

History’s His story.  Education’s alchemy.  Hindsight’s 20-20.  In irony’s wisdom.

Behavior modification, theoretically, is not limited to just individuals only.

On what is, what was and what, may be, learned literati, muse … on … ontology;

like luminaries, western, the likes of, Aristotle, Milton, Locke and Socrates.

Eastern peers, Lao-zi, Kong-fu-zi, Muhammad & Gandhi see:  Hindsight’s, 20-20.

And they see real folly; their own, and far more importantly … humanity’s.

A still-born, twitter-diplomacy, they fear, they shall see.  Say what?  Diplomacy,

by Twitter, dead?  Sad.  Great, could have been, Don’s, Twitter, diplomacy.

Three problems.  Two brothers.  One story.  Tiny subplots of a story … His story,

is man’s history. Tiny subplots of His creation are ye, infinitely, tiny … ye.


Surreally, Donny is the recently elected, President, of US.  Kim, is the … veteran,

Prez of the DPRK; Art, once, 40 years drunken; his own, frugal … barman.

Don’s made it clear:  He shall deal with Kim with or without … China’s Xi’s help.

Don will war against Kim, sans help.  He needs but enemies, not any, help.

If Xi’s not going to solve Kim’s North Korea we will, says he.  And it’ll be as easy

as ABC.  Believe me, no one else can.  Only me.  Nobody else can.  Only me.

If Xi helps that’ll be good for China, Don said.  If Xi doesn’t … then that won’t be

good for anyone.  Simplifying and complicating things: twitter-diplomacy.

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

Enter the three brothers, madly, megalomaniacal, with three … quill pens.


The two Koreas.  Pakistan and India.  Iran and Israel.  Six … huge opportunities.

Simultaneously, Art’s witless brothers threaten Urantia … devolutionarily.

Three problems.  Two brothers.  One mini-story.  Subplots of a story … His story,

is man’s history.  Tiny subplots of His creation are ye, infinitely … tiny, ye.

Surreally, Donny is the recently elected, President, of US. Kim, is the … veteran,

Prez of the DPRK; Art, once, 40 years drunken, his own, frugal … barman.

Don’s made it clear: He shall deal with Kim with, or without, China’s Xi’s, help.

Don will war against Kim, without help. He needs but enemies, not help.

If Xi’s China’s not going to solve Kim’s Korea, we will says he. And it’ll be easy,

as ABC. Believe me no one else can. Only me. No one else can. Only me.

If Xi helps, that’ll be good for China, Don said. If Xi doesn’t, then, that won’t be

good for no one. Simplifying and complicating is … twitter … diplomacy.

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

Enter the three brothers, madly, megalomaniacal with, three quill pens.


But Kim and Don, differ. They dealt with The Devil. They accepted … an offer

from him. An offer they couldn’t refuse. Their souls, for earthly power.

And riches. And luxury. Don’s lot is to be in the company … along with Abel’s

bros, Cain, Adolph, Alex, Attila, Napoleon and lots, of other, little people.

Whether ye want it or not, ye are bros. Art’s bros … Kim and Don … like Abel,

and like Cain. But it was by his nature that Cain was less able than Abel.

None of them need suffer. Not Kim. Not Don. And not Art. Three … brothers,

are Kim Don and Art. Whether they want to be or not they are brothers.

Tiny subplots of His story, the stories of Kim, Don and Art, the three brothers,

megalomaniacal. No one of them need suffer, if all of them, are brothers.

The Devil made them offers that they could not refuse. They accepted, offers.

The terrible truth is that Kim and Don, for power, their souls, bartered.

The Urantia Book, aka The Urantia Papers or The Fifth Epochal … Revelation;

its authors or author unknown have made of it a mystery … revelation.


Too many enemies, hath the Donny.  To them hath been added … on.barbarian.

Lips and mouth are his own worst enemy. Parts, parted from, the soul, of Don.

Community, selflessness, the acquisition of wisdom … and … sharing it.  Kim

and Don, went to school.  Yet, soulless are Art’s brothers, Don and Kim.

In imaginations, where Art  knows no fear, he’d renew the souls, of Kim and Don.

Ham (Hamlet) hammed it up on Arthur, last night. At last evening’s daily soiree, said he,

“Desperate times call for desperate measures. May your tweets be, ‘spammy’.”

Laughter ensued.  Art laughed.  The dead laughed.  Laughing too too were Don and Kim.

Shared, laughter. A good, sign. Of shared, community. Of a shared … wisdom.

Art, blushed.  The assembled poets, laughed.  Then Art replied, “Desperate times verily

do call for desperate measures, my dear, Prince of Denmark, my Hammy.”

“May your tweets be spammy.”  Funny guy, that Hamlet, Prince Regent, of Denmark.

A tragi-comic, ironic character.  A perfect, master, of ceremonies … to remark.

Don, having scorched the earth under every one of his enemies, even of friends, enemies

he makes. He’s in his element, among enemies. Shall they become, too many?

Blacks.  Whites.  Jews.  Hindus.  Muslims.  Russians.  Puerto Ricans.  Americans.  Koreans.

Chinese. Vietnamese.  And lots of Christians. Lots and lots of enemies, has he.

Don’s USS John S. McCain, is leak-proof. Don’s battle plan calls for a war with Kim to

prevent war with Kim, to win!


Elsewhere in the universe, Urantian ironies are albeit figuratively, killing us, heavenlies.

as they literally, kill ye. Art’s allegory is in the Greek tradition of Homer’s …




Kim’s recalcitrant. Don’s petulant. But Art’s insistent. “I’m an American citizen 2nd class. Can’t get my life saved … because I’m brown.”


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