MAYDAY 1701: MONDAY, JUNE 15, 2020

MARCH 4TH: A COMMANDING — DATE: I’ve got a date I’m suggesting to our global leaders. It isTuesday — March 4 — 2030.

Tuesday March 4 of on the year of Allah. God. Jehovah. Yahweh. 2030. A perfect fit. And the irony of it is not lost upon me.

With but a month (or five or so) to go til Election Day. I want to speak clearly, as I clearly don’t often do to my increasingly sallow, fellow Americans.

TV has had a dramatic effect on me. A chronic condition, not as threatening to me as it is, believe ye me — threatening — to the nation.

Too much TV-watching has had tragi-comic effects. Much taken was I, with my cartoon caricature childhood hero, the sailor, Popeye.

He’s why I like to say I ams what I ams; That’s the comic part. Then, there’s Iran. The made for TV, 444 days. TV left a mark, bye and bye.

The point of this verse, inter alia, is to declare my unfitness to hold the office I do in fact hold. To say — I’m sick — and tired of being — unfit.

Too sick — and let me be clear — too mentally ill am I, to be your president. Indeed I have been from the beginning all along, ill, and unfit.

That’s not to say that I’m not a genius. There’s no denying that. It’s just to say that for serving as president, I am unfit — uber — supremely.

And so in lieu of resignation, I offer instead an unequivocal endorsement of my esteemed opponent, the most honorable — most Sleepy.

Sign me in closing, President Tweety Trump. Sorry, Sleepy, about all that Ukrainian-Hunter, stuff. I was just kidding. Don’t even bother to

investigate me; nor anybody in my family. I’ve taken the liberty — of offering — and accepting a presidential pardon, already, too.

I am outta here. Good luck Joe. Be honest, always, with the people. Ne’er lie to them. And check back in here for your updates, daily.

This epic poem I hereby gift ye explains, lots; not just why I’m undertaking the risk of leaving DC’s unlucky Chinese year of the rat — to ye.

More on that later; lots more. For now — I am so outta here — I’ve got bigger fish to fry. Treasure the poem. Barack gifted it to me,

George, having previously presented it, to him. Treasure it Joe. Refer to — and defer — to it. I wish, I had. But only my hindsight … is 20-20.

Leave it to the children. Just not, the Beaver. But natural leaders, just like everybody else, are different from — the follower — rest of us.

Most follow where the leaders, lead. But some are their own leader. Leaders like Greta. She may well, in marching — example — lead us.

There is a vast potential, not in plain sight, but hidden. Hidden as if in the bowels of an algorithm. Almost perfectly hidden. For things

placed in bowels are pretty darn well, hidden. But relax; algorithms, unlike bowels, are really super-duper, clean — metaphysical — things.

The children may be just the open, sponge-like minds mankind needs to see the persuasive value in poetry. Leave it surely, to the children.

Some say I’m not perfect; but reasonable men, may differ. I’ve made a commitment to Art Everman — second class — American citizen.

Enter the dragon. No; the dragon’s not the virus. The dragon is Art; and he entered as dragons are wont to do — spitting ash and fire.

Abe Lincoln earned his eventual political stature to compromise and confidence — George Washington, through it seems a higher

calling. To my chagrin, I’d done no real work to earn my wealth. Like Citizen Kane, wealth had been a mere stepping stone — to my power.

But what good can power do? What good can power do, I’ve often thought, even as, I’ve done wrong. Now second thoughts empower.

“I’m having second thoughts. Magnificent — second thoughts. I’m studying composition at Arthur’s very much besought School of Poetry.

He in turn, studied ethics at Trump University. Now defunct, once upon a time, it was as well,
much besought — and regarded — very highly.

“Whether or not Arthur’s alleged electrocution actually happened I can’t say; nor can I say that’s when it happened Arthur began versing.

And I wasn’t there either when Arthur alleges he had his EUREKA moment in his tub and promptly got himself a policewoman, arresting.

But I will say this if only to end any debate as to what’s happening here. Hands down I can attest that Art’s verse is — miraculous, verse.

Dissolve the UN; one nation, reconvene. One Rule per nation; each nation its own; and everybody gets her Basic Income, Universal.

And that globally universal Rule? None other than our very much beloved — albeit, our very much — underutilized — Golden … Rule.

Dissolve the UN. One nation, reconvene. And Rule the Golden Rule — the Law — in every nation. Everyone gets his UBI and the Rule.

In these crises multi-task — efficiently. Follow the data. And the science. Let tech crunch the numbers. Use everyone — And lose — no one.

It’s 2020. Set 2030 as the inaugural GCD; the 1st global citizenship day. I’ll be there. March 4th — both date and command — to everyone.

To celebrate citizenship and to recall, perhaps, when more myopic men than I ruled. And I’ll be there if can just scrap these illegal, term limits.

Seize the day; but for God’s sake have a plan around. All my blather of instinct and gut feelings, sounds of indigestion — not instinct.

I’m now hearing that the cacophony of my bellyaching sounds, sound most unbecoming and — to many — most alarmingly, annoying.

Then suddenly, a dramatic plot twist in this great American tall tale; of four antiheroic dictators and a More-Mart greeter — hero.

Four for humanity they’d have ye believe they are. But with Art we are five not four looking for Nobel, for the four, antiheroes.

Egalitarians. Egalitarians already are many of us. Egalitarians. Famously, they are the bleeding heart liberals — egalitarian

giving shirts, off their backs. Such a man, is an egalitarian.

“Make no mistake, Bill. I’m the President of the United States. Cooperate with me or Microsoft, I’ll shut down. States,

disunited, however, may be, united. On to … one state.

“Art needs some seed money; rent money, too. Living largely from check to check his whole life, now aged, he’s freaking

out. I’d give him money but I need it for, my laundering.”

“The problem is gee — freaking whiz — I’m in a freaking closet! I dare not, out myself. I’ll just keep presiding, from my closet.

And I feel surreally, lonely … in my closet.”
cc: @antonioguterres @BarackObama @JoeBiden @SpokespersonCHN @BillGates @whca

”AND HEAR THIS! Now, it really gets weird. His timing’s, magnificent. Carl Jung’s synchronicities, speaking of timing, insightfully hint that there’s more going

on here than meets the eye. Enter the dragons, the virus, and George. Magnificent, His timing.

“Taking knees, banging drums and ignoring social distancing measures protesters from Sydney to London were protesting

Saturday against racism, brutality, war and — warmongering.”
cc: @antonioguterres @BarackObama @JoeBiden @SpokespersonCHN @BillGates @whca

“Tipping point D-Day; 78 years ago, just yesterday, MAYDAY-1692. Mark Art’s words. Going forward from yesterday’s

MAYDAY tipping point, yesterday, egalitarianism, is on its way.”
cc: @antonioguterres @BarackObama @JoeBiden @SpokespersonCHN @BillGates @whca

“On egalitarianism; reinventing ourselves to save or imprison Vladimir and his guys. Looking to save themselves, egalitarian

have become Vlad and his guys. Just to avoid prison.” cc: @antonioguterres @BarackObama @JoeBiden @SpokespersonCHN @BillGates @whca“

“I’ve been busy with deals. Just ordered fries. I love my fries. And as I breathe, easily, so too, about virtually everything — do I easily, lie.

I lie easily. It is why, I lie.”
cc: @antonioguterres @BarackObama @JoeBiden @SpokespersonCHN @BillGates @whca

“‘I can’t breathe.’ Chilling — last words. Awful — last words, to gasp. In Australia the words

evoke the killing of David Dungay. In Britain, Jimmy Mubenga’s. Awful last words.”
cc: @antonioguterres @BarackObama @KremlinRussia_E @SpokespersonCHN
@JoeBiden @

“‘I can’t breathe.’ Terribly awful last words. God awful last words to grasp one — gaspingly — speaking. The last spoken words,

of David and Jimmy were God awful … words.”
cc: @antonioguterres @BarackObam @KremlinRussia_E @SpokespersonCHN @JoeBiden @

“Very mysteriously perhaps, magically even, I now really fear Vladimir’s dolls. They’ve brought me a truly — paralyzing fear

and three crises in but one fearful half year.”
cc: @antonioguterres @BarackObama @KremlinRussia_E @SpokespersonCHN @JoeBiden @whca

“A tipping point in the pilgrim’s progress is come. Thanks to me and Vlad and Xi. And we

three see upstanding guys when we stand in front of mirrors promising … honesty.”
cc: @antonioguterres @BarackObama @KremlinRussia_E @SpokespersonCHN @JoeBiden @whca

“An uneven and even — unnerving, staccato — the pilgrim’s progress; a reflection

of the back and forward of two dance partners preparing for a most important, competition.”
cc: @antonioguterres @BarackObama @KremlinRussia_E @SpokespersonCHN @JoeBiden @whca

“Last year, 42.5 million visitors flocked to Las Vegas — Nevada. A little over one-fifth came from California; few from Nevada. One fifth were foreigners. Only a small percentage of Nevadans,

actually on the Strip, at any given time, in Las Vegas, Nevada.”

”In soirée last night with Vladimir and my frenemies, oft, adverse, we debated weaponizing with values citizen soldiers well versed

also in, persuasive, verse.”
cc: @antonioguterres @BarackObama @KremlinRussia_E @SpokespersonCHN @JoeBiden @780thC lol @whca

“Epigramming. At the chachomanopapa School of Poetry, Reprised, Art crafts verse that soothes the savage beast poetically.
And Frost has nodded a nod to Arty.”
cc: @antonioguterres @BarackObama @KremlinRussia_E @SpokespersonCHN @JoeBiden @780thC lol @whca

“Epigramming. At the chachomanopapa School of Poetry, Reprised, Art crafts verse that soothes, savagery, poetically.

And Frost has duly … nodded a nod, to Arty.”
cc: @antonioguterres @BarackObama @KremlinRussia_E @SpokespersonCHN @JoeBiden @780thC @whca

“Epigramming at Art’s School of Poetry, Reprised, Art crafts verse that soothe as well, our very own savagery. The craftsman

himself has lauded Arthur  on his craftsmanship.”

“Egalitarianism: of all the words in the rich English language none defines the principles embodied in that noble language

better than egalitarianism. Happily, not in any language.”

“More than 136,000 cases worldwide were reported on Sunday the most in a single day so far, WHO said. My fun days; Sundays.

Sunday was MAYDAY 1692; my tipping point, pagan fun day.”

“Cynically, Vladimir and I don’t care about such flower power notions of social justice except if OUR own personal power’s

threatened. A tipping point is come, to flip, OUR power.”

“Allow me Tony to do ye the favor of moving Mr Everman if ye need to move him. And thanks for the safe house. It’s the only thing keeping him alive. I call upon Nemesis. Art ratted me.

She’s the Goddess of retribution.”

All prose is potential poetry; likewise, all poetry is, potentially, prose. But what fun, is there in that? Especially,

in this lucky year of the rat, so God awfully, unlucky.”

“A key MAYDAYS plot device; the atmosphere of the settings with no air up here and lots of air, there.

I am inviting every citizen on the planet, to join the meditating, there.”

“As plot device, the airspaces; the airspaces of the two main settings; there’s no air in airspace here; airspace there remains,

airy. Meditate as if here but there … remain.”

“Remain on Earth (Urantia — really). Few others — Elon and me, to name but two; usually there’s no escaping gravity’s — surly

hold. View carnage, from the air, dispassionately.”

“View, when the time comes, carnage on Earth from our atmosphere, the bubble-like airspace —surrounding us. Our

God is Great. He lent us, home. An oven, in a rock, in a bubble.”

“Defend Forward, baby! Cyber Command’s getting a new deputy commander; he’s a looker, like me, straight out of central casting. We, Xi and Vlad and about 8 billion sundry

other organisms need to move as one, presently. And Arthur’s present, is his poetry.”

“China and Russia, increasingly march — in goose-stepping, lock-step fashion. Frenemies make presenting

a united front against any common real enemy, an impossibility, ongoing.”

“NOW HEAR THIS: By executive order I am ordering my cyber warriors to be like me and Sun Tsu. Win by not fighting. No nation is destined to rule over others.

Peace … I order.”

“NOW HEAR THIS (Tweet #2): Cyber warriors: Unlike any other, Sun Tsu and I strive to win by not fighting. No nation’s ever destined to rule over others.

Live in peace brothers.”

“NOW HEAR THIS (Tweet #3): Cyber warriors: Sun Tsu and I strive to win, by not fighting. Indeed, no nation ought ever strive

to rule others. To live in peace — I now, strive.”

“To live in peace I strive. Striving, by not fighting, thereby, to win. Nations: strive not to rule nations. Win

rather hearts and minds as in Vietnam, I did to, surreally win.”

“To live in peace I strive. Striving, by not fighting, thereby, to win. Nations: strive not to rule nations. Win

rather hearts and minds as in Vietnam, I did to, surreally win.”

“Epigramming clubs are all the rage on many of the universes’ more cultured planets so widely


Calming, verse, stimulating, verse. Like … no verse though, my verse.”

“There is no verse in the universes like your own great verse — I‘ll know. Edit til ye say what ye know ye wish — to verse

— exactingly in 280 characters of exacting … verse.”

“Heartless is this ugliest American, who (out of mind and body) speaks of himself in the third person. Fake hair,

poorly toupeed, hides that there’s nothing, in there.”

“With peace and prosperity and the surprise reprise of poetry, on a planet in need, Art gifts. An angel, is he

and if implausibly, we save ourselves, Art gets to retire, early.”

“Art knows there’s no prose like my prose; like no prose I know. Arthur knows also that all prose

is poetry — potentially. Know, my Art of the Deal. No prose … like my prose.

“All’s unraveled so quickly Vlad and his guys (Xi, Kim and Mo)

and me agreed to a last gasp (I can’t breathe, no mo) contingency plan if barbarians at gates begin amassing, mo.”

“It’s all unraveling so quickly. The polls say I’m losing my sway. But I’m not worried. I’ve got swag. And I’ve got Mace.

And Vlad and his guys and me have plans just in case.”

“I recall the good old days a long time ago six months ago now. Swag, had I then; and sway. Now

I’ve got a bunker and now, Mace … for the faces of citizens, in my face, now.”

“The chachomanopapa School of Poetry. Who’d of thunk but that Art was crazed when he ran butt naked crying out — but

Eureka to all, all the while covering his pale-faced butt.”

“Art got electrocuted by ball lightning on a sunny day. Electrocuted — was Arthur. And it happened the next day.

A day after the night he dreamt he’d be stricken the next day.”

“That very day Arthur joined Twitter. Flash forward ten years. Holding up Bolton’s book even as Arthur publishes this year

when publication best promises headlines of the year.”

“Imagine Art’s vision from Luna. Imagine a site there on Urantia that captures the imagination of the progressives on Urantia

and that enraptures … the peacemakers, on Urantia.”

“Don’t be a fool. Be … an insider. Keep an eye out for this stock if and when, stock — gets issued. A School — of Poetry. Stock

to invest, long-term; invaluable, future stocks.”

“Imagine — an imagination capturing site, attracting peace loving bleeding heart do-gooders seeking prosperity’s peace

and not for gossip or face viewing but for seeking … prosperity’s … peace.”

“Netflix and Zoom seem ecstatic that we may be under house arrest, indefinitely. Netflix and Zoom today — beat the house.

And wailing sounds seem to emanate from the White House.”

“The wailing sounds seem to coming from my White House — safety bunker. Is my oft tarnished — off-white — White House

now too a torture chamber? Or just watching Fox at my house?”

“Flash forward 10 years. As supreme arbiter of what’s published and what’s not, I’ll effectively keep Bolton from being published,

helping Art publish only a 2nd poem, published.”

“Glasnost. Perestroika. Two Chinas in the interim in transition from a cacophony of societal and political disorder and disunion

to a more rational order. I do, order, our union.”

“It’s hard to tell who real authors are; witness my bestselling, Art of the Deal. And the conventional wisdom that’s prevailing

that nations never cede sovereignty … is ceding.”

“I can read between lines. Art’s from the future; living in times, between. He knows what happens. He won’t say but sometimes

… a loss is prequel to a win to come at Yule time.”

“Art’s from the future; living in times, between. He knows what happens. He won’t say but sometimes a loss is what happens.“

“What if no one martyrs themselves for me? What if I have a rally and nobody comes; no one braves Covid-19 to be with me.

And in a test of faith, no one gets martyred … for me?”

What if I have a rally, and nobody, along … happens?”

“What if no one martyrs themselves for me; nobody to my rally, comes; no one braves deadly

Covid-19 to be, with almighty me? In tests of faith no one minds martyring themselves for me.”

“What if no one martyrs themselves for me; nobody comes to be with me; no one braves a germ to be with mighty,

me? And in a test of faith, no one dies and goes to Heaven, for me?”

“Disappointed am I @Jack in ye; with the powers that be ye, seemingly have decided, to side with. So ham-handedly

tampering with Arthur’s account is happening ye know, very, illegally.”

“By attending the Rally ye voluntarily assume all risks related to exposure to COVID-19 and voluntarily agree in addition, not to

hold me or my agents liable too. I’m covered; not you.”

“BREAKING GOOD, NEWS: I’m not perfect but reasonable men, may differ. In any event my commitment with American citizen

Arthur Everman is to sabotage my presidency … for its citizens.

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

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

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


The Urantia Book (hereinafter, UB) is a book drawn from minds, unknown.  It’s authors,

and a medium, all unknown.  All of ye share with them but a single Father.

“IN THE MINDS of Urantia’s (Earth’s), mortals there’s confusion re meaning, regarding

God, divinity and deity.”  On what the UB’s unknown authors, are alleging.

On goings-on on Urantia (Earth), and space about it.  A cosmic room with infinite views.

On history.  Past.  Present.  Future.  And peace, and prosperity.  A, how-to.

A how-to, to peace and to prosperity.   A critical review of your residence, cosmic.

A how-to, to prolong, Urantian, anthropological, history.  Use it, or lose it.

The Devil made them offers that they couldn’t refuse.  They accepted his offers.

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


Arthur Everman’s heaven-sent, idea:  Deal, Don, Kim, in; alternatively; Kim: Deal,

Don in. To do other than to follow the one who follows you would be a breach of

etiquette, on Twitter.

Almost, incredibly

Urantia is and has been as if on the stage, of the most captivating and unprecedentedly

entertaining plays in all of Paradise’s universes. Nebadon’s Urantia, has been,

infamously, entertaining.

Photo-poetry is fledgling.  Yet, it shall be Urantia’s (Earth’s) humanity’s, most disarming

weapon against the weapons of war of Don and Kim.  Far mightier than a sword is a …


Earthlings: I, Hamlet, the fool, riddle ye this one: “What questions, answer? Depends. It

depends on how the question is read. Consider another. “What will Kim do if tweeted to, by the Don?

Don.  Tweet to Kim.  Follow him.  If you do, Kim will tweet to, and follow you, too.  And mark too, Art’s words. cc:  @uriminzok @moonjaein_ @xijingping @abeshinzo @putinrf @too

“Under circumstances, instant, what might Kim do if Don tweets to, and therein proposes to him prescient plans to disarm, to unify and to remedy, too.


Kim threatens Don with nuclear annihilation. Don pressures Kim with sanctions. BUT, DON, WHY NOT TWEET, DIRECTLY, TO KIM? DEAL WITH KIM. MAN, TO MAN.

Why not, indeed? Particularly now, that Don has, perhaps, without consulting with anyone, banned transgender (wo)men, from serving in the military, bar, no one.

Kim.  Don.  Save face.  Both of you.  Tweet to your brother.  He too, likely, will tweet to you. @uriminzok @moonjaein_ @xijingping@abeshinzo @putinrf @un @you


Don. Tweet to Kim. Follow him. Mark Art’s words. If you do, Kim will tweet to and follow you. @uriminzok @moonjaein_ @xijingping@abeshinzo @putinrf @un @you

Don.  A/k/a @potus @realdonaldtrump.  Just say, “Kim.  Let’s sit down and talk.  Just you

and me.  Let us make, deals.  A model for India, Pakistan, Muslim and Jew.

I know, Don.  You’re shy.  But, don’t worry.  Like health care, and all things, presidential,

it’ll be easy.  It is what it is.  Your tweets are, and or make, policy, national.

Don.  Tweet to Kim.  If you tweet to him and follow him, Kim will tweet to, and follow you. @uriminzok @moonjaein_ @xijingping @PutinRF @you


Don.  Tweet to Kim.  If you tweet to him and follow him Kim will tweet to and follow you.

@uriminzok @moonjaein_ @xijingping @PutinRF @un @you

Donny.  Break the ice.  Tweet to Kim.  An instant distraction from Russia.  And Don, if you

do, tweet to and follow him, Kim, very likely will tweet to, and follow, you.

Increasingly, Kim and Don worry.  Each worries, what the other is up to.  What the other

will do.  Art for his part worries not.  For Art counts on, way more, others.

The beautiful legacies of Gandhi, King and Madiba are that their way of truth is the way,

of non-violence, justice and mercy.  It is, not coincidentally, the Jesus way.

Of man’s knowledge, of greatest value is to know of the religious life of Jesus and how he

lived it.  Urantia Book, Page 2090, Paper, 196:1.3  Jesus.  He of the Trinity.

Jesus once made reference to “other sheep not of this flock. “No matter who’s out there

we know we are all God’s children no matter our origin, no matter where.

Soliloquy.  Epic, poetry.  A cosmological and anthropological, history.  A subplot, tiny.

Not science fiction.  Nonfiction.  But one, of His really, countless, stories.

Soliloquy.  Ontology.  An algorithm.  Yellow brick roads to peace and elusive, prosperity.

An epic poem, to legatee-children.  From epigrammatic couplets, alchemy.

@PutinRF’s spies, espy, as @xijingping sends 500,000 tons of oily crude to Kimmy,

@uriminzok.  Oil.  Black gold.  Incredibly, near free.  cc:  @potus (the Donny) …

@PutinRF’s spies, espy. @Xijingping sends Kim, @uriminzok, half a million, yearly,

tons of oil. Communists. Taking care, of each other.  cc: the @potus, (Donny)

Angel-Trainee Art once was a layman lover, turned lush, turned lyrical philosopher

who learned of truth and wisdom, not in any school, but rather, as a dreamer.




Heard one about the Jew, the Christian and the Muslim in Palestine’s, Jerusalem?

It’s a real riot!  In it one of them deduces then says to the other two of them:

“Yo bro!  As long as there’s peace amongst nations Armageddon cannot ever be,”

said he to the other two, of oft un-brotherly, threes.  The three Abes agreed.

The three in unison prayed.  “If peace ever comes by definition then Armageddon

comes, not.”  Bombs to Jerusalem, came not. Delayed, Dabiq / Armageddon.

Peace has ne’er been but it may yet be if ye but presciently act as a unitary family.

That is to say, if ever ye all at once, commune, as a single, unitary, humanity.

Insight’s blind.  Hindsight’s 20-20.  Peace comes from algorithmic action.  Wise up,

(wo)man (homo sapiens sapiens)!  Just do it, (wo)man.  (WO)MAN!  WISE UP!

If peace ever comes, by definition then, Armageddon, cannot be.  Alas, a riot may be,

funny or may be tragic.  Alternative histories rightly, alternatively, shall yet be.

Words for ye wise men:  Ye self-named twice-wise, homo sapiens sapiens:  EXHANGE










It happens that Penemue, a Watcher Angel fallen, for his own God-damned salvation’s

sake, googled Google, for a certifiable, 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 of ink and paper for writing, albeit, men kept it, for them.

It’s been Penemue (Pen, to us), who’s been a 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.”





Don’t misunderstand.  There is a law on the books prohibitive of diplomacy, by citizens,

private.  Ne’er enforced, it is, there; an abridgement of speech against citizen,

activists.  Especially the citizen-activist-twitter-diplomats of republics and sovereignties.

Twitter-diplomacy.  Sad.  But look at the bright side, Don.  It’ll be, your legacy.

That the presidents Donny and Kimmy are gunning for one another is totally compelling

of itself.  But 140 characters, makes for text, with uniform margins, compelling.

Kim’s 1st ICBM rattled.  Donny’s ‘measured response’ response is risky.  But sooner

rather than later, Kim’s North and South Koreas reunify thanks to twitter.

In the interim, Kim, Don and Art, agreed. In view of current events, a TEMPORARY, freeze

for a freeze. Two tyrants and a tenant, so agree.

Kim’s 1st ICBM, rattled.  Donny’s ‘measured response’ response, is risky.  Sooner or later,

Kim’s North and South Koreas are to reunify.  Thanks to diplomacy, on twitter.

In a phone call with Don on Monday Xi chillingly warned US.  Get a grip Don.  Chill

out!  There are 7 billion of us, besides you two, incorrigibles.  Do not, kill!

In a blunt phone call one Sunday night Don (who at times, speaks in the 3rd person)

said to Xi: “Don is ready.  He’s able.  He’ll do to Kim what he did to CNN.”

The history of North Korean missile development, has now entered, a deeply grave,

new phase.  Of Don and Kim and Art.  Of everyone.  And brothers, graves.




980 (140 X 7, 280 for an intro, 420 for a body and 280, for ends) characters for max efficiency

in couplet construction may highlight form by designing

Real men for real women.  Beyond Beyonce jams Jay-Z.  4:44’s blueprint for all (

Women when her one and only man loves a one and only woman.  Let it, be.  Let it, be.

Beyond Beyonce jams Jay-Z.  Kool-Aid, to her lemonade.  A mature man loving a woman.

4:44’s a blueprint for (wo)men; for, when her one man, loves his, one woman.

Beyond Beyonce jams Jay-Z. Kool-Aid to her lemonade. A mature man fulfilling a woman,

half, of him.  Blessings, B and J, and Sir, and Rumi.  From (wo)man … a family.

I get it.  You doubt, Art.  Nearly everybody, does.  But I Hamlet, know Art.  And so, I know

that Arthur, an author, and an angel wannabe, unlike Kim and Don, high goes.

That the presidents Donny and Kimmy are gunning for one another is totally, compelling

of itself.  But 140 characters, makes for text, with uniform margins, compelling.

Congrats, Mika, Rachel, and Joe.  This ugly footnote ironically, is adding, Art is surmising,

to bribery and perjury on top of justice’s obstruction and to an iconic FBI, lying.

Congratulations Rachel, on msnbc’s coverage of President’s Donny’s Russian connections.

Interview Art, the soon to be late author, too late, the discoverer of Twitterese.

Content (that Presidents Donny and Kim are gunning for one another) is very compelling

of itself.  Twitter’s 140 characters, makes content’s form’s text, more compelling.

@Facebook @google @youtube @microsoft @amazon:  For there is a beauty, compelling

in form and content if a poem’s margins are uniform and content, is compelling.

For example:  Content, that the Donny spells ends to Trump family brands, is compelling

of itself.  Yet, if expressed in 140 characters, content’s form, is more, compelling.

@Facebook @google @youtube @microsoft @amazon:  For there is a beauty, compelling

in a poem’s form is, like twitter’s, algorithmic.  Add in content, aptly compelling.

@Facebook @google @youtube @microsoft @amazon: @Twitter, is key!  For, at Arthur’s

Children’s School of Poetry, Arthur teaches of sublime beauty in 140 characters.

@Facebook @google @youtube @microsoft amazon: Amazingly, it’s because of Arthur’s

Kid’s School of Poetry’s taking on evil with beauty, the beauty, in 140 characters.

@Facebook @google @youtube @microsoft @amazon: Why is @twitter, a key? Arthur’s

Children’s School of Poetry, Art teaches of the beauty in 140 characters.

@Facebook @google @youtube and @microsoft There is alchemy in Art’s 140 character

connector, language.  It shall connect, legatee child-poets, on @twitter.

@Facebook @google @youtube & @microsoft:  There’s vast potential energy on twitter

in the poetry, of children, via @twitterese, Arthur’s, language, connector.

@Facebook @google @youtube @Microsoft and @twitter:  A Children’s School of Poetry

on twitter Art founded and found there a vast source of potential energy.

@Facebook @google @youtube @Microsoft and @twitter:  Art has discovered in poetry

mountains of words and fountains of art, at a Children’s School of Poetry.

@Facebook @google @youtube @Microsoft and @twitter Do not sell Art short.  For Art

has discovered in poetry, mountains of words and fountains of youth, art.

@Facebook @google @youtube @microsoft & twitter: Please do help us global entities;

global entities like Art and a Center for Strategic and International Studies.

@Facebook @google @youtube microsoft and twitter, are commissioning researchers,

to share solutions and war with governments, in your wars, against terror.

Eerily, @facebook and @google’s @youtube @twitter & @microsoft are forming global

groups to kill terrorist content from international platforms, multicultural.

Eerie synchronicity.  Eerie mystery.  Eerie irony.  SOLILOQUY’s summarizes His story’s

algorithmically, alchemical twists:  Polygamous, social media matrimonies.

What’s a Facebook community?  Community pages are those member, Facebook pages

dedicated to topics, common to communities.  Please do, follow these pages.

Facebook wants more meaningful online communities.  Like Facebook’s Mark and Art’s,

Ham-narrated, do-it-yourself book, ‘SOLILOQUY’.  Ditto, Donny, Kim and Art.

The cyber brothers, Arthur, Kim and Don are extraordinary artists of deals, and masters,

of diplomacy; in Pen’s plan three fates are augured by, lightning and thunder.

Armed with pens in hand, poets, pen worlds.  Mightier than worlds of swords, are worlds

of words.  A pen is mightier, than even the very sharpest, of steely, swords.

Kim, Don and Art learned of Pen’s googled plan in visionary dreams at soirees, Victorian.

Three men tasked to ask the right questions, left unanswered, by omission.

But what’s really crazy? Given what’s at stake isn’t it crazier not to tweet, than to tweet?

Ought not all (wo)men communicate?  Ought not all, by commission, tweet?

The western-educated and American pop culture obsessed Kim IS it seems, ready to deal

with Don and Art. Kim told us as much last night, saying, “Let’s make a deal!”

“I am old.  I am dying.  I am afraid.  I am frighteningly afraid.  Not of dying.  It is of dying”

said he, “sans staging a soliloquy; one last soliloquy, about living, and dying.”


A paranoid, obsessive and compulsive, Kim.  Factor in a paranoid, obsessive, compulsive

and megalomaniacal, Donny; of all this no one ought be too overly, dismissive.

After all, Don’s leak of a secret plan, unsubtly entitled, “Decapitation Option To Kill Kim,”

makes for a dangerously, compulsive, Kim, albeit a less, megalomaniacal, Kim.

Kim decries his country’s victimhood, denying badly treating or torturing the Don’s Otto.

alleging on the contrary its “humanitarian” treatment of the pawn that is Otto.

Aside from some risky ‘decapitation’ options twitter diplomacy may ironically ultimately

be, our very best option for peace and prosperity, from North Korea’s Kimmy.

Kim’s North Korea, it has been confirmed, has vast mineral reserves of rare earth metals,

critical to the manufacture of smart phones and other high-technology articles.

UN:  World population: 9.8 billion, by 2050.  That’s just 10 years before Sir Isaac Newton’s

Armageddon, 2060, calculation, scientific.  Plots, and their subplots, do thicken.

Xi’s efforts to sway Kim haven’t worked says Don.  So is it on to a DECAPITATION option?

Especially now, that Otto’s been made into, a fatefully, shameless, provocation?

This is not good Kimmy.  Your return to US of a comatose Otto ups the pressure on Donny

to do ‘something’ to you.  Something short of, or beyond, traditional, diplomacy.

Convicted of subversion, against Kim’s DPRK, for trying to steal a souvenir, hotel, banner.

Otto was severely sentenced, to 15 years, of potentially, fatally hard, hard labor.


Resist, Twitter.  Hola.   Hello.  My name is Hamlet.  It’s a name given me, by a witty Willy.

Oh, ye silly, Earthlings.  Please do, immediately, heed me.  Please do, please, me.

Don’s having Dennis open secret lines,  to North Korea’s, Kim.  Arthur’s suggestion to Don

is:  Let chachomanopapa’s Arthur Everman negotiate a deal with both of THEM.

Arthur wants his brothers Don and Kim, to let HIM, barter with THEM.  No, Rodman.  No,

diplomats.  Please, simplify this, Earthlings!  Tweet everyone!  Just, us!  Just, so!

Don is thinking, of Kim.  Kim, likewise, is thinking, of him.  Arthur, is thinking, poetically,

of them.  All of them, plot.  Don, for riches.  Kim, for power.  Arthur, for poetry.

Earthlings:  Resist, @Twitter.  Art’s words are meant to address adults, only, incidentally.

Our beloved legatee children, shall best and most easily see, the Sylvia, in Arty.

Children, shall best see Sylvia, in Arthur Everman.  Through me, Hamlet, and others, too.

Lots of them.  Dead (wo)men.  Dead children.  And undead, public figures, too.

Dead women, men and undead, public figures; the heroines and heroes of “SOLILOQUY”


are history’s very own, from Hammurabi, to these times, so Trumpianly, surly.

The lines blur between SOLILOQUY’s heroines, heroes, villains and the often antagonistic

protagonists, that shall in turn, speak in favor of Art’s, acculturation, alchemic.

Ham’s soliloquies, whether his, or surrogates’, are meant to be, algorithmically alchemic.

Gold has been done.  But Arthur Everman’s alchemy is necessarily, algorithmic.

So, @MSNBC:  Because death’s last sigh, draws nigh, and Arthur Everman’s mission, is in

peril, please, MSNBC:  Please, interview me.  Please, make of fiction, nonfiction.


It is a felony to lie to the FBI.  Ironically, lying to yourself, your wife, your party and to

the people is OK. But, lying is bad, for your brand.

Donny: Lie to yourself, your wife, your party and to the people. Do not, Donny, lie,

to the FBI. For ’tis a felony to lie, Donny, to YOUR, FBI.



Donny: Lie to yourself, your wife, your party and to the people. Do not, Donny, lie,

to the FBI. For it is a felony, Donny, to lie, to YOUR, FBI.

Donny is in need of a distraction. For distraction is in his nature. For more reasons

than one. For Don reflects we, not wont, to well reason.

Another; he is a septuagenarian whose juvenile comportment belies his maturity;

childish ere all these years. I Hamlet, do fear the Donny. Another; notwithstanding his spectacular, coiffure, Don lacks, presidential, timber.

In his missile crisis, what now? More threats, on Twitter?

I, Hamlet, fear Donny. Willy and Rumi, fear him too. Ditto, Pen, Art, Kim and Don,

himself. Ditto, the poets and visionaries. We, fear, Don.

Don? Afraid of himself? Verily ’tis so. We are afraid of him. He’s afraid of himself.

No one knows why. No one but Vladimir Putin, himself.

No one knows but Vladimir Putin. He’s, a villain. He’s, a bad actor. He’s, a baddie,

in this tiny subplot, of this incredibly, tragi-comic, story.

The Donny is in dire need of a big-time distraction. It’s second nature to him. Kim

ought not, lower his guard. The Don, is thinking of him.


Kim’s trigger finger itches. Donny’s, too. Arthur worries as he writes knowing that

rookies make rookie mistakes. It’s like a last time at bat.

Kim has near as many missile launches in this year alone, as overseen by his father

— 16 — during, 17 years of power, come from his father.

From poetry peace and from peace prosperity. Three megalomaniacals; Kim, Don,

and Arthur do, as Ovid and Emily, would be, wont, to do.

Oh, bittersweet, irony! Today, terror visited the Iranian Parliament in Teheran, Iran,

and Ayatollah’s Memorial. Seven dead. Hostages taken.

Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice, to deceive. Judged by all;

the Donny but he listens, not. Not to anyone. Not at all.

Don doesn’t listen on Twitter, either. He doesn’t listen, anywhere. He doesn’t listen

to anyone. He just doesn’t listen. And he shuns reason.


Angela on Don’s wall: “A physical barrier won’t resolve any country’s immigration

issues.” She is of the Resistance, like too, Mr. Macron.

Mr. Macron, aka, Emmanuel Jean-Michel Frédéric Macron is Co-Prince of Andorra,

Spain, and France, and the President of France, Europa.

Andorra’s citizens enjoy the highest life expectancy on the planet. Formed in 1278,

it’s headed by Presidents of France, and Bishops. Spanish.

Emmanuel Macron, the French Boy Wonder; a welcome check against the Donald;

He might form, along with Angela, a tandem, of angels.

With Angie, Emmanuel forms half of an angelic, tandem; champions of life, liberty,

fraternity, and the pursuit of happiness, in that, liberty.


For Edward Bulwer-Lytton’s … “True, This! Beneath the rule of men entirely great,

the pen is mightier than the sword [and great the state].

Cæsars: Strike the loud earth, breathless — Take away the sword — states can be

saved without it!” [love’s poetry may yet save the stately]

To the end of rendering Penemue’s plan to pen alchemical algorithms in poetry to

Humanity. Art, and his dead poet pals, want to, arm you.

Arthur Everman and his dead poet pals want to arm you, via your children’s poetry.

Only our children’s poetry may free us from surreal reality.

The plot, and the subplots. following, are the stories of three children of God, three

megalomaniacal brothers and billions of others, poetically.

Kim, Don and Art; three megalomaniacal brothers and billions of others, poetically.

This is their story. And this is your, schizophrenic, history.

For too long now it’s been feeling like humanity’s final, at bat. For nuclear powers

cannot risk even a single old-fashioned conventional war.

To be, or not to be? Humanity’s, threshold question. High-technology algorithms

we dead poets agree, may well counter, authoritarianism.


The long, poem. Like, ancient epics. Like Homer’s, Iliad. Like his, Odyssey. Ironically,

at 1.8 million words, the Mahābhārata is, most lengthy.

Vyasa’s Mahābhārata, is Urantia’s lengthiest epic poem. Its 1.8 million words, less its

prose, makes more than 100,000 couplet verses, iconic.

That makes Vyasa’s epic roughly ten times the combined length of Homer’s Iliad and,

Odyssey. All along its length, compelling content, spans.

Is Daesh (ISIS/ISIL), winning? Larger, and better, questions are: Is humanity, winning?

“To be, or not to be?” Is humanity its humanity, losing?

Arthur Everman’s 40 years in a delusional wasteland have been terribly educational; in

them he’s learned everybody’s crazy, everyone but him.

Everyone is crazy; everyone, but him. The proof is in the pudding. For that the nations

rule makes sense to near everyone. Everyone, but him.

God, not any nations, rules man, notwithstanding, anything. Mark, Art’s words: Neither

Caliphate nor Jewlsh state’s, forever. No state is forever.

All conflict on Earth is domestic violence, however, in this seemingly fictional,nonfiction,

it is militarized. But, it has remedies, in real, nonfiction.

Domestic violence has remedies, in law, and in fact. Among them, a few are separation,

reconciliation, toleration, and eventually, acculturation.

But acculturation takes time. Generations sometimes. Time is limitation. A better query

than whether ISIS is winning is: Whither goeth humanity?


Behavior modification; a human imperative; ‘cause conflicts on Earth are so commonly

domestic violence. For resolutions, separate the parties.

History, prophesy and nature mitigate against humanity being somehow, miraculously

saved, from a tragi-comical, sovereign-based, humanity.

Accordingly, HAMLET’S, LAST, SOLILOQUY: On ontology, realism, fiction and nonfiction,

and, in neuro-scientific, science-fiction, a ready, remedy.

What needs to be read by everyone on the planet ,can not be while bottled up in Twitter

Streams. A tsunami becomes placid streams, of Twitter.

A thin veneer of civilization masks a savage beast lurking within the heart of every man.

Behavior mod works in individuals. Why not for all men?


Behavior modification; a human imperative; ‘cause conflicts on Earth are so commonly,

domestic violence. For ready resolutions, separate parties.

Separate, the parties. Because all violence is domestic violence, it demands the parties’

physical separation, That’s true for spouses, and countries.

There are forks in the road in space-time in individual lives and in a collective humanity,

moments when our course we may alter uber-consciously.

Behavior modification is a proven commodity; so, Art mused, if it works for individuals;

maybe it may work even better for multiples of individuals.

Urantia now numbers 196 nations, 4200 religions and 6500 languages; too many labels,

divisive for a sub species so easily and naturally, homicidal.

Nationalism and ‘religionism’ are real twin threats to sub species homo sapiens sapiens,

in these most surreal, and near incredible, synchronicities.

Humanity is devolving too quickly too fast; far more quickly than it’s evolving; especially,

now that three, are converging, surreally and climactically.


Imagine then that when on 12-21-12, nothing cosmic happened, three wannabe authors,

Kim, Don and Jong, unwittingly became, cyber brothers.

Imagine too 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 spoken, written and indeed, woven

into art. Art to make poetry inspire, aspirations, human.

Imagine then. in dreamy reveries, Victorian, soiree-like, wine and cheese, parties. History’s

luminaries, partying. Eating, drinking and making merry.

Imagine then that of all the earthly forms of written expression most like heavenly hymns,

‘Tween chapter and verse, ’tis verse that is favored by Him.


Pen’s commission, to Art: Tweet. Blog. Pen to the children your epigrammatic, poetry.

Teach them an algorithm. For there is alchemy, in poetry.

We Watchers, we rebel angels (known in Islam as Jinn), once, long, ago were defeated by

Creator Allah/God/Jehovah/Yahweh’s forces, long to laugh.

We Watchers, we the Nephilim, of Genesis, long to rest, at long last, finally; our lengthy

sentence is: To view in chains, your re-runs, perpetually.

Watchers watching re-runs (in chains, no less), perpetually; sure sounds, like Hell to me,

Hamlet, but thankfully He is The All-Merciful, The Almighty.

We Watchers, we lovers of women have longed to rest. So, implausibly, Pen helped Arty

Everman, to write dramatically gripping, novel-like, poetry.

The commission’s this one: Write to the children of the nations. Let 140 characters be key

to best, President Kim, Caliph Abu, and President, Donny.

And so the founding of Arthur Everman’s School of Free Addictive Poetry. The composition

of epigrams is Art’s specialty, no matter the language 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.

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;

the 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

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.


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.


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.


“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 world leaders as Xi Jinping, and Vlad Putin

Reactionary others look on, entranced, in rapt, anticipation.

Pithy statements.  One hundred forty characters.  And in an 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 a threshold question. For high-technology algorithms,

we dead poets agree, may well 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, our nationality, nor our tribe to Him.

Arthur’s poetry acculturates! For the acculturation of man is but the modification of his behavior

as applicable to group behaviors, as it is to individual behavior.

Theoretically, behavior modification is not limited to individuals only; certainly, our communities

too are subject to it as well. Why not test then, Arthur’s theory?


That is to say, behavior mod’s not limited just to individuals; communities too, are subject; to it.

LOL. According to this view, the coronavirus is on its way out and the economy is coming back. Polls are unreliable, Joe Biden is too frail to last, and the media still doesn’t get it. The latter three points may be true; but the initial two don’t seem to be … at all happening.



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