Resign, Don, from your presidency. As you now, know, yet another career, awaits ye. For in soirée last night on Luna, Art suggested that ye bravely

pickup the mantle of the globalists, and defend it. Your new mantra: Migration, markets … and meteorology.

Your new mantra, Don, may be migration, markets and meteorology. Resign, Don, from your presidency. Yet another career, awaits ye. Bravely

pickup the mantle of the globalists and defend it. Continue being heroic to many and staying out of prison … maybe.

Don’s new Plan: Plan ZZZ. When Bob shows that he’s got the goods on Don, just, resign. To be again a chameleon turning from Republican,

to Democratic. And back, again. Don‘s mantra may be migration, markets and meteorology. A come-back … from extinction.

Don’s new pitch. To get rich. Again. At the expense of others. And to stay out of jail, of course. And he’s pitching it as a come-back, from extinction.

Don’s new Plan is Plan ZZZ. Upon a deep-state’s fake showing, just resign. And invoke, the power … of Putin.

The power of Putin. ‘Taint nothing to sneeze at. Unless ye have been given Novochok by an agent, Russian. Or it’s cousin, disabler, (whom WHO,

has denominated as), the Don-toxin. An investigation is ongoing. The toxin is a disabler, not a killer, says WHO.

The power, of Putin. ‘Taint nothing to sneeze at. Unless ye’ve been given Novochok by an agent, Russian. Or it’s cousin, disabler, (whom WHO,

surreally denominated as), Don-toxin. Investigations, are ongoing. The toxin’s a disabler, not a killer, says WHO.

BREAKING: Because poetry has so much to do with the story of Urantia (Earth) and The Don and his brothers and an evolution seemingly

being overtaken, by devolution, Art interrupts this thread for a commercial message. Follow me, humans! On wisdom, seeking.

Now look what a fine mess ye’ve got US into Donny. Ye’ve painted US into a corner. Between a rock. And a hard place. And there’s no way out for ye

but to ignominiously, resign. From an off-white, White House residence, resign. Resign from, your presidency.

In twisted twists of fate, long, ere, 2020, GOP nemesis Nancy Pelosi may well be, over US, presiding. The Special Counsel shall be recommending

indictments against the President. Albeit innocent, of all wrongdoing, President Don is, nonetheless, resigning.

@Lin_Manuel @AOC: A fair society may be US. Yet still a great, democracy. Plays are yet to be made. Staged plays. From power plays like Arthur’s

brothers’. The play’s the thing, Nancy Pelosi. Give the rope, play. Lin: A rap, on Broadway, to your brothers?

A fair society. Our society. On the whole. A great, democracy, still. Relatively. Don is to it, a clear, and present, danger. The play’s the thing,

Nancy, Pelosi. So play with Don, Nancy. And Lin: Why not a rap, to your brothers? The play … is the thing.

The play is the thing, Nancy, Pelosi. So play with The Don. And Lin: Why not a rap, to your brothers? For it is said that the play is the thing,

not, everything. Ironically, it shall come to pass that The Don’s bit part in a play, may be, Earth … saving.

The play is the thing, not, everything. It May be that The Don’s bit part in the play of life may be, Earth saving. For the play is the thing,

Nancy, Pelosi. Play with The Don. Like a lioness. And Lin: The play, is the thing. Why not another rapping, play?

Why not Lin, another rapping play? And why not Nancy, a power play, political. For the play is the thing, not everything.

Maybe this Don thing, ironically, is pivotal. Play Nancy, with Don. Like … a lioness. And Lin: You know. The play is … the thing.

MAYDAY 1315: FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 8, 2019: Heaven can wait. But not Urantia. Not with her climate changing before the very eyes of deniers of climate

change. Populations, shift. Yet Don dares to deny the wisdom of compassion, and mocks, any change, in climate.

MAYDAY 1315: FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 8, 2019: Heaven can wait. Not so, Urantia. Not with climates changing, populations, migrating and a mocking

Don, mocking, everything. Even as Urantia, dies. But Don’s just going through the motions. He’s sensing, an indicting.

Revelations were had last night when Don, quoting Hillary, said, “It takes a village.” And, in a nod to Art, “Heaven can wait. Not so Urantia’s changing

climates and migrating populations,” and his indictment on Earth (Urantia), if not, in Heaven, pending.

The State of the Union. Don’s once, yearly report, to the American, nation. On the state of a nation, run by a moron. Not especially, intelligent, President

Don feels threatened by, mathematics. And by the Special Counsel’s investigation, of the President.

Donald feels threatened by everything and everybody. By mathematics. By English. And by conspiracy (collusion), between the Don and the Russians.

He knows no difference between ‘there’ and ‘their.’ Such, is the state, of the … union, of … the Russians.

Don feels threatened by everything. By math. By English. And by conspiracy (collusion), between himself and the Russians. He knows no difference

between ‘there’ and ‘their.’ Such, is the state, of the union of the Russians. Our disunion, in … difference.

Worse. Worse than getting nowhere fast is reversing. Retrograding. Making of bad decisions, worse ones.
What’s happening? What’s happening is nothing

less than a Russian mole become our President. Humpty Dumpty about to take a great fall. Not … for nothing.

Worse. Worse than getting nowhere fast, is reversing. Retrograding. Making bad decisions, worse. What’s top-secretly happening

is that a Russian mole, is become, President. But Humpty Dumpty has taken a great fall. Not at all, incidentally … for nothing.

Forget Humpty Dumpty.
Humpty Dumpty, in Art’s MAYDAYS, is, allegorically, The Don. Putin’s puppet. But of all Putin’s puppets, The Don one has meant the difference

between irrelevance and prominence. On comrades, Trump and Putin. Two henchmen Presidents.

Humpty Dumpty, in Art’s MAYDAYS, is, allegorically, The Don. Putin’s puppet. Of all Vlad Putin’s puppets, President Don has meant the difference,

between Russian irrelevance and prominence. On comrades, Trump and Putin. To Russia true, these two Presidents.

@Lin_Manuel @AOC: Worse. Far worse than most can imagine is the intrigue in MAYDAYS. Where reasonable speculation, reasonably leads to conclusions, unpalatable to the GOP.

For collusion is, conspiracy. And a criminal conclusion to The Don’s …   presidency.

President Don would have liked to have run in 2020, to once again be the Great White Father, the President. But Feds have the goods on Don and his face,

his son. Good sons and fathers are the father and son, presidential. He’ll resign … to save … face.

We need not be savage beasts. For we have music. And poetry, like music, hath charms to soothe the savage beast. In hypnotic beats. And lyrics,

emotive. Verily, poetry is music to humans. We, have options. We need not be, savage, beasts. We’ve got, lyrics.

Add to poetry’s letters and numbers, music. And to music’s notes, voices. Then add, dances, musical. And rappers, beating, beats. Artistry like Lin

and Nancy’s, reflect views on walls, more egalitarian, than is capable … a caricature, … President, Don.

Artistry like Lin’s and Nancy’s, on two more fronts, combats the ever combative, mafioso, aka, President Don. Aka, The Don. And add to poetry’s

letters and numbers, music. And to music’s notes, voices. Add dances. And rappers, beating up beats, poetically.

On Don’s modus operandi: A primer: Act the part of a sovereign. The King.
Steal … and lie to … men. Lie with and lie to, women. Take no, responsibility.

Deny, everything. At all times and in all things, lie well to men. And lie to women … faithfully.

Don’s modus operandi. A primer: Take no responsibility. Deny everything. Lie well to men. And lie to women, faithfully. Act the part of a King,

sovereign. Steal. Then lie to the men. Lie with the women. Then lie too to them. Don’s modus operandi, is lying.

President Don’s modus operandi, is lying. No responsibility, taking, Don just denies, everything. He lies to men. And he lies to women, fairly,

indiscriminately. And he acts the part of a King, sovereign. President Don’s modus operandi is lying, routinely.

An impossibility, the brothers are saying. “Don’s a liar. As are, save none, all the brothers.” Witness then, them. What if, found out, were, Presidents?

Would upside down Art’s brothers be crucified by their very own, citizens? On the dilemmas, of today’s, modern day, criminal, Presidents.

No killing, indeed, is (not), easy. Take @Pontifex. And @POTUS. Both, accessories to murder for the murder of Jamal Khashoggi, arguably.

Remember him, @kingsaud? To these matters, Art, is not privy. In nightly soirées he’s building alternative, realities.

@kingsaud @Pontifex. @POTUS: All arguably accessories to the murder of Jamal Khashoggi. Remember him? In many matters, Arthur, is, unknowing.

But the matter of Urantia and man is a matter of quest for him. If he saves Urantia he’ll earn, an Angel’s, wings.

@kingsaud @Pontifex. @POTUS: All arguably accessories to the murder of Jamal Khashoggi. Remember him? In many matters, Arthur, is, unknowing.

But the matter of Urantia and man is a matter of heroic, quest. For if he saves Urantia, he’ll earn … an Angel’s, wings.

@kingsaud @Pontifex @POTUS, Xi, Vlad and The Don. Accessories to the murder of Jamal. Jamal, the martyr. Remember him, King Salman?

Jamal Khashoggi, martyr, come back from a grave to destroy ye. Irony is rich, in Art’s MAYDAYS. Remember Jamal, King Salman?

Understand, King Salman, what’s really, surreally, happening. Know that, excepting for Saudis, all know, what’s happening. For martyr Jamal surreally

is coming back from his grave, to destroy ye. King: Aside from Saudis, all know … what’s happening … really.

Know ye Ben, o/b/o Jewry: All Saudis soon shall know, things, as soon as the Jews, Muslims and Gentiles do. Things are happening. Climates are changing

US. Rearranging US, too. Sometimes, alternatively, to keep US honest, things only seem, to be happening.

Eureka! From Pandora’s box, a letter shaped key, spelling, wisdom. A lucky stroke for President Don. A panacea, tho, for Pangaea. ‘Tis on Urantia’s Luna

that Don is changing US. Rearranging US. Whilst tempests rage on Urantia, he plans, for US … on Luna.

‘Twas just last night. When Don experienced, at Day 1311 of MAYDAYS, an epiphany‘s, revelations. With Don entertaining,

reconsidering, changing climate change and immigration. Wisdom, The Don … is changing.

Of President Don’s change into a wise man. A man of character surrounded by, similarly, compelling, characters.

Stricken, has been Don, by Arthur. And a key of wisdom, written in, at Don’s request, by Arthur.

Stricken by Art and by a key of wisdom drawn from Pandora’s Box, Don’s account of his transformation

into a wise man is a made-for TV moment for the president. A State of the Union. Tomorrow. For, the nation.

Don’s telling of his change into a wise man is a must-see, made-for TV moment, for him. For severely divided

are States of Disunity. Don wonders. Why not just start over? So wonders The Don about US, divided.

MAYDAYS. Inspired by Twitter Diplomacy. A panacea for what’s left of Pangaea. For Twitter‘s algorithm is conducive to the penning of poetry.

Couplet, poetry. Couplet verses, that, when linked, become, epic. A panacea for Pangaea lies in, the penning, of poetry.

Poetry is charming. And poetry is beautiful. But forget not, importantly, that poetry is, persuasive, too. Twitter‘s algorithm is conducive, to the penning, of verse,

couplet. For tweeting exactly what one wants to say in exactly, 280, spaces. Perfect … couplet … verse.

Excellent, if not perfect, couplet verse. Verse, excellent in (280 character) space. Excellent in matter (content). And excellent, inherently, in verse,

poetic, (dark matter), form. For wisdom may be of the dark matter glue, holding together, the universe.

On Urantia’s Luna, in soirées, dreamy. Three lunatics pen there, precious, poetry. Of a humanity belied by paradigms, kingly, religious and stately

… surreally, real. Arise, citizens of Urantia. And take from usurpers, what Allah, God, Jehovah, Yahweh, in stewardship, gave ye.

Art is an AT. An Angel, in training. Recalled from a mission in a future to return to a past to save Urantia. An impossibility, the presidential brothers,

all are saying, “Don’s a liar. As are save none, all the brothers.” Witness Don … and his brothers.

An impossibility, the brothers are saying. “Don’s a liar. As are, save none, all the brothers.” Witness then, them. What if, found out, were, Presidents?

Would upside down Art’s brothers be crucified by their very own, citizens? On dilemmas, of the Presidents.

Roiling the ever already choppy waters of human politics, Kim and Vlad and Xi and Don, plot with Art on what ought be public, what ought be

private, and what ought be, Mr. President, a tippy-top, top secret and therefore, Donny, for your eyes, only.

Bit characters. In crews, constant, of 280, of them. 280, in every tweet. Like dark matter, the glue, holding the Twitterverse, together. Four presidents.

And Art. For Arthur is but one, of five principal, characters. One greeter. And four … presidents.

Everything changes. And as climates change, men shall migrate, predictably, unpredictably. All matter matters. Particularly, the gray matter in one’s

particular head. Who knew that matter, matters, so much? Who knew? And so was sent for, the prodigal, one.

Had Don only read between lines of handwritings on the walls, of the world. Had he, he would know his wall is, DOA, dead. Had Don only, really,

liked to read. And really read, reports, from his experts. Had Don only gone to walls and read them … really.