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 well discern a twit, from a tweet.
Tweet’s oft understood; but twit? Not often. Twits are taunts. To twit, is Is to titter
or taunt. Hmm; 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 has fooled us, sans wit, albeit.
Why Twitter, and not Tweeter, albeit an intriguing riddle, is not the point, in debate.
The point is the twit, that has 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.
A TWEETING TWIT
Be very careful what you wish for, US of America. The tweeting twit is an opportunist.
And he is, in this freaking, tragi-comedy, no mere apprentice.
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.
Three problems. Two brothers. One story. A tiny subplot of the one story, His story,
is man’s history. Tiny subplots of creation are ye tiny ye.
Seemingly surreally, Don is the recently elected President, of US. Kim, is the veteran
Prez of the DPRK; Art, 40 years drunken, his own barman.
Don has made it very clear that he’ll deal with Kim, with or without, China’s Xi,’s help.
Don will war without help. He needs but enemy, not, help.
If Xi’s China is not going to solve North Korea, we will, says he. And it shall be as easy
as ABC. “Believe him,” he says. “No one else can. Only me.”
If Xi does help, that shall be good for China, Don has said; if Xi doesn’t, that won’t be
good for anybody. Simplifying things, is twitter-diplomacy.
North and South Korea. Pakistan and India. Iran and Israel. Three vexing, problems.
Enter three brothers megalomaniacal, with three quill pens.
Three clashes of countries. Three problems. Three opportunities. Kim, Don and Art
act out in this ‘live’ subplot of history, Art’s story, of history.
History is His story. Education’s alchemy. Hindsight’s 20-20. There’s wisdom, in irony.
Behavior modification’s not limited to just individuals only.
Dreaming of what is, what was and what may be, the learned literati muse on ontology;
like luminaries like Aristotle, Milton, Locke, and Socrates,
Like too, like Shakespeare, in Manchester’s land. and eastern peers, Lao-zi, Kong-fu-zi,
Muhammad and Gandhi. They all see. Hindsight is 20-20.
And they see folly; their own of course, but far more importantly, they see humanity’s
folly. And they fear they see, a still-born, twitter-diplomacy.
Say what? A still-born, twitter-diplomacy? And Don’s to blame? Sad; twitter-diplomacy
could have been a contender. It could have been, somebody.
THE GOOGLING WATCHER
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.
It happened that Penemue, a Watcher Angel fallen, for his own God-damned salvation’s
sake, googled for a 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 on using ink and paper for writing,
It’s been Penemue (Pen, to us), who have been the 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.”
“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 such world leaders as Xi Jinping and Vlad Putin.
Reactionary others look on, entranced, in rapt, anticipation.
Pithy statements. One hundred forty characters. And in this 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.
Alternative facts. And an alternative history. To be or not to be? To that end, alternatively,
consider, another paradigm. Hail humanity, not sovereignty.
Consider ye, another paradigm.
For Kim Jong il’s un is the Kim Jong whose power flows from fathers’ militaries.
As he is the brother of Art, and of Donny.
Only Art Everman, of all the men on earth acknowledges Kim’s point of view.
At stake: North Korea’s sovereignty, or a coup.
Arthur knows the poverty of juche (self-reliance), and the power of the songun
(military first), dynasty of Kim Jong il’s …un.
This last soliloquy of Hamlet, nominally from Kim Don and Arthur, is intended
to make man less narrow-minded for futures, more open-minded.
Why pen history poetically? Though harder to compose than prose, it is far more elegantly
emotive than anyone may ever aspire to compose, prosaically.
Imagine that when on 12-21-12, nothing galactically cosmic apparently happened, authors
Art, Don and Jong, surreal cyber brothers, went atwitter together.
Imagine as well, that while Kim Jong-un and ‘Donald Drumpf’ know of the third, the third,
Art, knows them well. He knows they are too fond, of their words.
Not hard to imagine; the three, do indeed, tweet on twitter; but the two brighter brothers’
world view isn’t as prescient as that of their dimwit, third brother.
Imagine too, that words, the most wondrous units ever to be conjured by the minds of men
surreally may be used by man to make real our aspirations, human.
Imagine then Victorian soirees spent in dreamy reveries with history’s visionaries, nightly
connecting; eating, drinking and crafting, their epigrammatic poetry.
Art imagines that of all the earthly forms of written expression most like heavenly hymns,
between chapter and verse ’tis verse that’s most favored by Him.