I thank Allah God Jehovah Yahweh for the use of the Philosopher’s Stone; and since it is Art’s phone that serves as the Stone, I thank Art also. Alchemic — is the Stone — of the Philosopher.

Only seemingly magical is the only seemingly mythical, Stone, of the Philosopher. Crystallized into an internet connection, a phone-like Stone; handy to one, like me — a natural, Philosopher.

I’m a stable genius and a natural Philosopher. And whilst I might have been able to defeat the aliens with my bare hands alone it’ll be easier, to win my Nobels — with a Philosopher‘s Stone.

Without Arthur’s Philosopher‘s Stone it may be that it shall have been impossible to win a Nobel. In any event, by His grace, together, we’ll send the aliens packing — on their way, home.

By His grace, together, we may well manage to overcome the aliens. Ye and me; Vladimir Putin and Xi Jin Ping; and Kim and Mo and the rest. And each of us indeed, may win, a Nobel Prize.

Nobel Prize Prizes, we yet may win, if GAFAM; Google, Apple, Facebook, Amazon and Microsoft in the US and BAT; Baidu, Alibaba and Tencent, in China — cooperation, reprise.

Time is of the essence; my immediate mission is to convince my fellow global leaders that the aliens are masterminding an ungodly scheme; enslaving humanity for gold mining operations.

Time is of the essence; my immediate mission is to assure my fellow global leaders that the aliens are masterminding an ungodly scheme; enslaving man, for gold mining — operations.

Moreover, I’ve got to mastermind my own strategy to get my Earthlings to trust me more than they trust the aliens; and believe me; and not believe in these less than honest — aliens.

It’s a tall order; an order — fit, for a tall, tale. Because more and more — the peoples, less and less, believe me. The Chinese New Year begins on Thursday. We may yet see the aliens.

It’s a tall order; an order — fit, for a tall, tale. Because more and more — the peoples, less and less, believe me. The Chinese New Year begins on Thursday. We may yet see the aliens.

My impeachment trial today; an unfortunate, distraction. Time is of the essence; the Chinese New Year begins on Thursday. Alternatively, we shan’t see them and I shall banish — the aliens.

What is one to make of my obsessive writing of a so-called fable? It’s a thinly-veiled warning, and more importantly, a how-to tome, too. An algorithm, also; a how-to write, soulful, poetry.

MAYDAYS is a warning about our trajectory, and ultimately, our destiny. Tying together a virus, an NEO and the silence of the aliens into a how-to tome. Tied together with — poetry.