Category Archives: Poetry

@Uriminzok @POTUS and @CHACHOMANOPAPA

Leave a reply

@Uriminzok @POTUS and Art:

You lack nothing. Use what I gave you. – God

넌 부족한 게 없어. 내가 준 것을 잘 사용해. – 하나님

Art: I think, He means, @twitter!

@Uriminzok @Xijinping:

Talent wins games, but teamwork wins championships. – @MichaelJordan

재능은 게임을 이기게 해주지만 팀워크는 우승을 하게해 준다.

Give peace … a chance.

@Uriminzok:

Trust is like an eraser, it gets smaller and smaller after every mistake.

신뢰는 지우개와 같다. 실수를 할 때 마다 조금씩 조금씩 줄어드니까.

cc: @CNN@UN

Life is too short to be wasted on hating people.

인생은 사람들을 미워하며 허비하기엔 너무 짧다.

cc: @Khamenei_ir @netanyahu @CNN @UN

@MoveOn @Twitter @GLBLCTZN

Actions speaks louder than words But there comes a time when words

speak clearer than actions.

말보다 행동이 더크게 말하지만 가끔은 말이 행동보다 더 정확하게

말할때도 있다.

Pangaea: 196 nations; 4200 religions; 6500 languages; but what if, to protest,

only one language, #twitter-ese, is best. cc: @uriminzok @POTUS

Verily, there are times when words speak more clearly, than actions. A Watcher

of us summoned … Kim, Don and Arthur. cc: @uriminzok @POTUS

ON @STEPHENBANON, @REALDONALDTRUMP et. al. AS ADDRESSEES

Leave a reply

ON ONE ORB (2-From ‘AN ATLAS, POETIC’; Penemue’s plan)

Leave a reply

Now, it had happened that Penemue (one of the Watcher angels, fallen), for his own salvation’s sake, posed to Arthur a plan for each, his his salvation.

“What ten words do you to humanity, bequeath,” in a dream asked a fallen angel, of a drunken Arthur. “Answer that in poems, to the sundry nations.”

“Answer that question Art, poetically and epically and ye may win for both of us our salvation,” he continued as Art, beneath his sheet, cowered, in reaction.

Poetry is the metaphysical language of love. It may well, Earth’s humanity, still save. only poetry, of the written forms, emotes, and evokes, sufficiently.

“For Arthur Everman’s poetry acculturates! For acculturation is but the modification, of behavior; it’s as applicable to group, as it is to individual, behavior.”

So Arthur Everman writes on 3 distinct levels; 140 character tweets metamorphosing from 980

character blog logs to a book; a poor man’s, publicity.

“What ten words, Arthur, do you bequeath to humanity,” in a dream asked Penemue, the fallen angel, of Art. “Answer that in poems, epic, to the nations.”

To be, or not to be? That is, for humanity, the threshold question.

It is Scripture (the Testaments, Qu’ran, the Book of Mormon, et. cetera) wherein

lives wisdom, and the uncommonly, common, Rules … Golden.

The very cross-cultural commonness of Golden Rules, evidences, their significance.

This repair manual is in the spirit of that significance.

Is to be or not to be ever to be the question? As in your brother Hamlet’s soliloquy,

this is about nobility but soliloquies are of Another.

The children of Allah/God/Jehovah/Yahweh are brothers and sisters before Him,

it mattering not at all, our nationality nor our tribe to Him.

Earthlings! Heed Penemue: The one and only Watcher of the original 400 left to do

(what eons ago), he was commissioned by Another … to do.

To be, or not to be? That is, for humanity, the threshold question.

It is Scripture (the Testaments, Qu’ran, the Book of Mormon, et. cetera) wherein

lives wisdom, and the uncommonly, common, Rules … Golden.

The very cross-cultural commonness of Golden Rules, evidences, their significance.

This repair manual is in the spirit of that significance.

Is to be or not to be ever to be the question? As in your brother Hamlet’s soliloquy,

this is about nobility but soliloquies are of Another.

The children of Allah/God/Jehovah/Yahweh are brothers and sisters before Him,

it mattering not at all, our nationality nor our tribe to Him.

Earthlings! Heed Penemue: The one and only Watcher of the original 400 left to do

(what eons ago), he was commissioned by Another … to do.

To be, or not to be? That is, for humanity, the threshold question.

It is Scripture (the Testaments, Qu’ran, the Book of Mormon, et. cetera) wherein

lives wisdom, and the uncommonly, common, Rules … Golden.

The very cross-cultural commonness of Golden Rules, evidences, their significance.

This repair manual is in the spirit of that significance.

Is to be or not to be ever to be the question? As in your brother Hamlet’s soliloquy,

this is about nobility but soliloquies are of Another.

The children of Allah/God/Jehovah/Yahweh are brothers and sisters before Him,

it mattering not at all, our nationality nor our tribe to Him.

Earthlings! Heed Penemue: The one and only Watcher of the original 400 left to do

(what eons ago), he was commissioned by Another … to do.

ON ONE ORB (2-From ‘AN ATLAS, POETIC’; On Making Common Sense Common)

Leave a reply

“What ten words do you to humanity, bequeath,” in a dream asked a fallen

angel, of a drunken Art. “Answer that in poems, to the nations.”

It had happened that Penemue (a Watcher angel, fallen), for his salvation’s

sake, posed to Art a plan whereby each might gain, his salvation.

“Answer poetically, that question and ye shall win for both of us, salvation,”

he continued as Art, beneath his sheet, cowered, in reaction.

Poetry, the metaphysical language of love may Earth’s humanity yet save; only

poetry, of the written forms, emotes and evokes, sufficiently.

Art Everman’s poetry acculturates! For acculturation is modification, of behavior;

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

And so Art Everman writes on 3 levels; 140 character tweets metamorphose to 980

character blog logs, and a book; a poor man’s … publicity.

And so Art calls upon wannabe Hillary, @HillaryClinton to crush the megalomaniac

(@realDonaldTrump), and then the ISIS faux Muslims, attack.

ON ANGELS, FALLEN

Leave a reply

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

the inception to an alchemical introspection and … transformation.

That question, posed to Arthur (Art) Everman, post 9-11, was asked of Art,

by a faceless one. “Who”, asked Art, “are you?” “Your counterpart” …

… he replied … cryptically . “More specifically, I am, Art, Penemue, a fallen

angel.” 400 (200 princes and 200 followers), fathered … the Nephilim.

Nephilim (the giant men of renown in Genesis) were fathered by the fallen.

All but three of the 400 are in chains a-waiting the Day of Judgment.

The chained are the fallen angels who married and commenced in unions

with human women, and who taught … knowledge … forbidden.

The unchained three remain unchained because they married and fathered

not, Nephilim and because what they taught (wo)men, to Him, answered.

To wit, while 397 of the fallen, lusted after, married, and procreated Nephilim,

three, albeit fallen, revealed knowledge … not forbidden.

ON CITIZEN DRUMPF

Leave a reply

@RealDonaldTrump: Why dump Drumpf? It’s because of secrets, you conceal.

Seven tweets wonder why tax returns you don’t, or won’t, reveal.

@RealDonaldTrump: We wonder why (really), your taxes you will not reveal,

publicly. Might it possibly be to, the results of audits, conceal?

@RealDonaldTrump: We wonder why (really), your taxes you will not reveal,

publicly. Does an absence of charitable contributions, you conceal?

@RealDonaldTrump: We wonder why (really) your taxes you will not reveal,

publicly. Might it be you pay no taxes; there’s nothing to conceal.

@RealDonaldTrump: We wonder why (really) your taxes you will not reveal,

publicly. Might it possibly be, they, your alleged mob ties, conceal?

@RealDonaldTrump: We wonder why (really), your taxes you will not reveal,

publicly. Might it possibly be they, oligarchic Russians, conceal?

@RealDonaldTrump: Why dump Drumpf? It’s because his secrets he conceals.

Seven tweets wonder why your tax returns, you don’t or won’t reveal.

ART’S SCHOOL OF POETRY

Leave a reply

Platformless, Art writes on 3 levels; 140 character tweets metamorphose to 980

character blog logs and a book; a very poor man’s, publicity.

AN ATLAS, POETIC: Epigrams become very concise blog log entries; 140×7=980

characters; alchemic letters, to the nations, epigrammatically.

A formula for poetry, no matter the tongue: Prior to an 83rd character, end

then with the sound that one would have the second line … end.

Lectors may confirm, if they persevere through so many tweets, that (errors

aside), each tweet/epigram’s length is, exactly, 140 characters.

Arthur Everman’s School of Free Poetry @chachomanopapa: the composition

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

OF A TWIT AND HIS TWEETS

Leave a reply

OF A TWIT AND HIS TWEETS

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 or 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 as often. Twits are taunts. To twit’s to titter

or taunt. Hmmm; why then Twitter, and not, Tweeter?

Alternatively, a twit is a silly, annoying, person or fool. How appropriate then; a twit,

twits, on Twitter; nobody’s fool but his spirit’s.

Why Twitter and not Tweeter, albeit an intriguing riddle, is not the point, in debate.

The point is the twit that’s been a tweeter, of late.

The twit that tweets promises that if he dupes the US, the American people, a wall,

he’ll build, women, he’ll cherish and books, he’ll sell.

A real tweet 09/06/15, by ‘co’-author Tony Schwartz, on his book’s real authorship:

“I wrote the Art of the Deal. Donald Trump read it.”

Why so sad? Look at the bright side. A rumptrump’s legacy may well be, the liberal

and conservative wings, of a democratic party, multilingual.

Careful what you wish, United States of America; a tweeting twit is an opportunist.

And he is, in this tragi-comedy, no mere apprentice.

What is humorous, may be, also, serious; for the ugly-American-in-chief aims to be,

commander-in-chief … no laughing matter … verily.