Ahmad Al-Khatat. He was born in Baghdad on May 8th (1989). From Iraq, he came to Canada at the age of 10, the same age when he wrote my very first poem back in the year 2000. He also Ahmad has been published in several press publications and his insightful. And he currently studies Political Sciences, and move on to study Journalism at the Concordia University in Montreal. DUE TO MY COLOR SKIN… I wake up alarming of The sun begets me lightless. I walk with one-foot in Grave, weak to find a mate. I am a guard fencing In an observant civilization. I fail in Cheerfulness, Facing my tearful bleakness. Due to my color skin, Unmentionable as one being. I write slant rhyme, Amongst the loner villains. I renounce old times, Onto my beloved generosity. CHRISTMAS MELANCHOLY… Joys faces arises more During Christmas days Selfishness and hatred Dollars fly away easily Widow stays by tears Couple decor the tree Orphan sees the snow Rich steals of homeless Dreams melt with snow Death hid above wishes Hopes die with bombs Refuges breath of blood Santa weeps and weeps Syria kids thing of space They have no more land For Santa to come now Santa cries and cries Kids in Iraq forget him Isis creates their own Fearful and terrifying Santa drink and drink Kids in Palestine died Israeli makes his own Stingy to give a penny Foundations shut down African kids blame God Their tears are now blood Humanity still shopping Youth smoke illegal drugs No mind to buy the grace Youth drink visible Cancer Without seeking the wisdom In exile, Everyone does a gift exchange In homeland, Everyone shares one slice of bread… FREEDOM ON EARTH… As one immigrant, I always seek for Freedom in exile. I thought it was In a can or frozen Food, or a liquor. So many confusions, A few long questions, Nobody have the facts. I did math with letters, I got Aero in percentage, Joy versus grief in numbers. I read the moon diary, From the sun rays to Find the answers I need it. The freedom on earth, It’s becoming a nightmare, Humans are now animals. Teenagers are growing fast, Adults are falling in depression, Parents are walking separate it. Keep up with the Kardashians, Your dream to be Kim or Khloe, Learn from their lives and live. Freedom it’s a new religion, With a holy magazine of Playboy, Awful fantasies are the prayer. The pastor of church weeps, The nun become one striper, The sinner owns Jesus Chris. The devil win over freedom, Fighters kill their own relatives, No mercy to baby breast milking. The poet writes and nobody read, The homeless attend all funerals, And the poems die in bible verses. The freedom on earth it’s a miracle, The magicians cannot change it, As long as humans run carelessly.
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Kabedoopong Piddo Ddibe'st is an English & Literature Teacher, aged 24, an Acholi by tribe from Kitgum District, from a dirt poor family background. Uganda is the East African nation commonly known as "The Pearl of Africa"; once ruled by the Dictator Idi Amin Dada(1971-9), and then Y.K Museveni(1986-present), and also invaded by Joseph Kony{LRA}(1986-2006). The Shepherd The monster is our shepherd; We will never want, He maketh us lie down in dog' s nose cold refugee camps, He leadeth us beside the still Victoria waters, He restoreth our lost pregnant tummies' glories: He leadeth us in the path of wickedness for his name' s sake, Yea, though we walk through the dale of the shadow of death, We shall fear no fed-up public clubs: For he is with us; His metallic rods and dogs they shield us up, He distributest public funds on our tables before the starving servants: He anointest our fat heads with running public tears; Our empty cups run over with the poor' s cow-milks, Surely, wealth and fame shall follow us: And we shall dwell in the subsidized tents of the monster till kingdom come. Renee Drummond-Brown is an accomplished poetess with experience in creative writing. She is a (Summa Cum Laude) graduate of Geneva College of Western Pennsylvania and The Center for Urban Biblical Ministry (CUBM). Renee’ is still in pursuit of excellence towards her mark for higher education. She is working on her fourth book and has numerous works published globally which can be seen in cubm.org/news, KWEE Magazine (Liberian L. Review), Leaves of Ink Magazine, New Pittsburgh Courier, Raven Cage Poetry and Prose Ezine Magazine, Realistic Poetry International, Scarlet Leaf Publishing House, SickLit Magazine, The Metro Gazette Publishing Company, Inc., Tuck, and Whispers Magazine just to name a few. Civil Rights Activist, Ms. Rutha Mae Harris, Original Freedom Singer of the Civil Rights Movement, was responsible for having Drummond-Brown’s very first poem published in the Metro Gazette Publishing Company, Inc., in Albany, GA. Renee’ also has poetry published in several anthologies and honorable mentions to her credit in various writing outlets. The Multicultural Student Services Office of Geneva College presented her with 2nd prize in the Undergraduate Essay Contest. Renee’ also won and/or placed in several poetry contests globally. She was Poet of the Month Winner in the prestigious Potpourri Poets/Artists Writing Community and in the running for Poet of the Year. She has even graced the cover of KWEE Magazine in the month of May, 2016. Her love for creative writing is undoubtedly displayed through her very unique style and her work solidifies her as a force to be reckoned with in the literary world of poetry. Renee’ is inspired by non-other than Dr. Maya Angelou, because of her, Renee’ posits “Still I write, I write, and I’ll write!” Crayola His wife’s BLACK as ‘tonight’. He’s WHITER than snow. They’re HATED out! This ‘fo’ ‘sho’; we do know. No doubt!!! Society don’t like this game but two can play it ANYWAY just the same. Your move~~~ Do not pass go, do not collect $200. This again; we do know. For this crime, off to jail ‘ONE’ use to go? Wonder who?? This; we do know??? But when he loves ‘Tonight’ from the top of her head to the souls O’ her feet~~~ The colour they worry ‘bout’ is none other than THAT mean green. NOT black or white! Her family hates the Caucasian in him; his family hates her blackness within but interracial relationships exemplifies the freedom to love whomever one desires~~~ So don’t get boxed in Open your mind, Crayola’s come in all sorts of different kinds. Whether your black as tonight or white as snow~~~ This for certain; we do know. Dedicated to: A Black tie ‘AFFAIR’. A B.A.D. poem I Love Lucy Brown dreams lost ‘inna’ black sea. Slaves riding them waves, passing by this so, called, American dream. Identity cries, theft lies beneath the oldest bones found. Who are they? Archaeologist want to know? Her. But; do they though? Really? Scripture foretold, tale; tale signs of her long, long ago; since the beginning, O’ time. November 24, 1974, Lucy, was re-born again an’ again an’ again. 3.2 million years, of innocent blood sweat, ‘an’ enslaved tears. Tarry til’ I come; He said. But how? ‘Sum’ 400 years later, the oldest fossil’s children’s children, are still ‘beggin’ bread! Tarry til’ I come; He said. Lucy your lineage camouflage artifacts. O’ ‘dem’ hidden treasures of Ethiopia’s pleasure beyond her majesty’s mystery, of man daring to dream Lucy’s vivid dreams, beyond her measure. No scheme; THIS IS NO SCHEME ATTACHED! FREEDOM She ‘sangs’! O’ FREEDOM! LET IT RING! LET IT ‘RANG’ I love Lucy. Lucy I’m home. Although, freedom for ‘our’ children has come an’ be gone. Lucy’s in Africa with diamonds an’ pearls oh’ my! Dinknesh; she’s amazing, she’s marvelous she’s free. Everyone’s roots date back to ‘ONLY HER’ genealogy; from sea to shining seas! I love Lucy’s legacy. Mother we’re home. But simply not free. A B.A.D. poem Dedicated to: Arrest #AL 288-1 (Lucy I’m home). Hard Knocks! He beat me ‘cause’ he loves’ me; he say’s “you’re my only one” therefore, it’s my fault he hits me ‘fore’ the setting of every sun. As sure as I’m in heaven; Father, Can You try to understand; his last hit took my breath away an’ I’m ‘beggin’ forgiveness ‘cause’ I loves’ this man. My child, BEFORE they laid you to rest, adding insult to injury at its best; HE ALREADY HAD A BRAND NEW PUNCHING BAG, an’ she’s a real diehard, soon to meet the VERY same fate that you had. Dedicated to: Domestic Violence Awareness! A B.A.D. poem White Girl White girl, white girl, what do you see, what do you see; when ‘lookin’ at me? I see favor, I see grace, I see humility I see ‘BLACKNESS’ an’ dignity wanting her children free. Black girl, black girl, what do you see, what do you see; when ‘lookin’ at me? I ‘saw’ a white girl who stepped up during The Civil Rights Movement ‘PLEA’, ‘TOOK A BULLET’ an’ made the ‘WHOLE’ world take notice of my children and me. Thank you VIOLA GREGG LIUZZO for allowing me to pen y’OUR’ history. Although, my slain sister, we’re still far from being free! Dedicated to: The family of Viola Gregg Liuzzo. This martyrs ‘GONE’ but ‘NEVER’ is our ‘SHERO’ forgotten! A B.A.D. poem ‘Rizen’ an’ ‘Fallin’ Alicia Keys nobodies ‘fallin’ like me! Been ‘fallin’ an’ ‘rizen’ All ‘deeze’ years; don’t know night from day been ‘cryin’ from ‘dem’ ‘dawgz’~~~ ‘sum’ real tears ‘Youz’ ‘knows’ ‘who’s’ ‘youz’ are??? Trouble in my way ‘gotta’ ‘SWANG’ sometimes!!! ‘Nevatheless’ ‘Iz’ wear Poet Dunbar’s mask ‘dat’ grins an’ lies ‘wit’ UV ultra-protection ‘dat’ disguise My WISE eyes Who’d she coo? Not you! ‘Twaz’ me ‘fallin’ an’ ‘rizen’. So let me be. Dedicated to: I keep on ‘fallin’ and can’t get up! A B.A.D. Poem America! America; America, God shed His plagues on thee, and crowned thy hood with WOES as He should, for disobeying His commands from sea to shining seas. His commands are misunderstood. Therefore, as Scripture vents~~~ reprimands are visibly cognizant Prayer removed from schools~~~ THANKS TO YOU now our children are sophisticated iPhone fools! ‘Walkin’ ‘round’ ‘bustin’ a sag, while mommy’s half dressed, daddy lags last; bringing up the rear without child support in sight and ‘nada’ a care or offering reasons why??? America; America, God shed His plagues on thee, and crowned thy hood with WOES as He should, for disobeying His commands from sea to shining seas. Dedicated to: What happen to the beautiful spacious skies for amber waves of grain? The NO Sense I see dumb people and they don’t know they’re dumb. Pants ‘sagin’ down; ‘slangin’ ‘dat’ dope, ‘takin’ their own communities for broke! I see dumb people and they don’t know they’re dumb. ‘Walkin’ round like ‘ev’ry’body else ‘CEPT’ jobless ‘havin’ big fun. Stupid ‘iz’ ‘az’ stupid ‘doez’ too dumb to learn how to spell; let alone, want a job; on their way straight to hell. I see dumb people and they don’t know they’re dumb. ‘Makin’ ‘kidz’ ‘wit’ ‘ev’ry’ Tom, Dick, and Harry’s son, sayin “I do” an’ he’s already married too; let me guess? Hmm NOT TO YOU. I see dumb people and they don’t know they’re dumb. 60 years old still ‘livin’ at home with mom, no job no future an’ no plans to EVER go. I see dumb people, too stupid to want to grow. I see dumb people and they don’t know they’re dumb. They walk amongst us everyday Is it you? Hmm; just sayin, just sayin. NEWS FLASH!!! The only dumb question ‘IZ’ THE ONE THAT THEY ASK!!! Dedicated to: How often do you SEE them? ALL THE TIME. Boy. Oxygen cut off as he ‘swangs’ 10 yrs. ol’ but considered a man. Eyes bulging from his head sweat pouring from his glands. Breath slipping fast. Numbness in both hands; Mob ‘yellin’ “Swing low sweet chariot no-ones ‘fennin’ to carry you home”. Boy’s minds’ the last to leave as he FORCED to swing and become a man from a poplar tree. IN LIGHT OF BLACK HISTORY MONTH 2017; LEST WE FORGET. Dedicated to: Mr. Go To Hell! Restore that blind mans’ sight. Give that murderer a second chance at life. Take away those drugs. Mature that hooligan thug. Feed that crack baby. Addiction to bondage minus the subjugation of slavery. Black lives matter? Yeah right! If not here; then where? Definitely, in the hereafter. Bang; bang shoot ‘em’ dead an’ let that piece of steel be still; and/or “Go to Hell” die ‘tryin’ if you will. Dedicated to: Dead is as dead does (‘piece’ be ‘steel’). Kim I saw this photo of you today and flashed back some 30 years, with a heavy heart I asked the Father, Where do I start? What shall I do? He replied Go to Habakkuk 2 verse 2, write your visions of her make it plain others will read it and just like Kim, just maybe they’ll too come to know Him by name Only then this vision came clear write a poetic account that mounts of her quiet nature, beautiful smile O’ to have that awesome giggle return to us if only for a lil’ while. But somehow, I know Kim’s alright ‘RESTING’ In His bosom you see, with her big wide smile lighting that path for us… in those pearly skies to be received one by one when our mission test here are done. I even thought of her beautiful child, ‘an’ grandson, named like her, which would make her so very proud And I know, that I know, that I know, because of her genes they too are ‘gonna’ be alright Because of Kim and how she lived I no longer question Him. I know to cry at births rejoice at our loved ones’ goings which gives us hope… In the Father His Son and Holy Spirit. Two Special Grand-kids Kia, I still remember the day you named her “Barb Dawg” for none other than ‘barkin’ out ‘dem’ orders to ‘ev’rybody’, anybody, ‘an’ equal opportunists; all for one and one for all. No-one gets exempt from grans’ SHOUTING CALLS Woof, woof woof~~~ Yeah especially, to ‘dem’ grans merely fusing for a just ‘cause’. ‘Cause’ she taught Kia and ‘HER’ Lil’ Wayne Love, R.E.S.P.E.C.T but most importantly humility, courage honor and justice for all. That is fact; hmm ‘sustah’ Aretha Franklin ain’t even got ‘nothin’ on this nor that! She taught you both how to stand stay believe in self, try very hard, and to the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob PRAY!!! On bended knees she taught you ‘wit’ an iron fist, so the world couldn’t get hold of your innocent heart felt bliss; thus knocking you out 1st round hit or miss. No, She taught you both how to PRAY up, look to the hills ONLY from which ‘HIS’ HELP COMES!!! RUN FROM TROUBLE for-ever and a day. For gran, ‘THAT’ was the only way. And ‘THAT’ he said; she said was simply NOT ACCEPTED~~~ NOR A OK!!! She absolutely loved ‘Her’ Lil’ Wayne ‘ev’r’ so, Lawd, Lawd, Lawd knows. Yeah Lil’ Wayne knew too; through those history walks an ‘dem’ late, late night confession talks. Kia and ‘HER’ Lil’ Wayne, just to put it mild, “BARB DAWG” loved you like NO OTHER GRANDCHILD. IF you don’t know ‘HER’ by now; I’m penning you her thoughts~~~ “Barb Dawg” carried you to her grave and returned you both back to God. Dedicated to: Kia and Dwayne Drummond Barbie The original Barbie came to life March 9th -1959. Or so were told. She arrived on the scene blonde, brunette, and bold as can be. Not the likes of my kind. Cause none was made to look ‘JUST’ like me. But I loved, loved, loved her world anyhow; them paper dolls too ‘playin’ alone was so much fun when there was ‘nothin’ else left to do! She was cheap as can be. Her commercial raved ‘ONLY’ $3.00 for a vintage Barbie YOU SEE. 1961 ‘MEANT THE WORLD TO ME’. Ken, AKA Sean Carson, that is; makes his grand debut as none other than Barbie’s main squeeze an’ blue eyed beau. Mod also comes along, ‘wit’ Malibu Barbie ‘sangin’ a new tune to a different type of Barbie song. Finally, JUST FOR ME, The VERY first African American Barbie; came into being. The year 1968, and boy was she ever so VERY late!!! She launched in the 80’s, nevertheless, none really knows her by name. Her history, timeline, an’ use of fame remains a mystery in “Christie’s” guessing game(s). In 2009, Farrah Fawcett an’ Toy Story attached their names to Barbs’ brand; adding ‘bendable’s’ minus the ‘twistable’ arms, legs and yes rubber face and hands!!! 2017, hard to believe, but Barbie’s in her late 50’s!!! We drove her car to the mall, played in her carousel kitchen, lived in her dreamhouse; yep! Camper right outside!!! O’ sheer bliss. Sewed her some clothes, told her secrets, that only she knows. Barbie knows us well; as does Mattel but she’ll never tell; a single soul. Nope she won’t~~~ even tell her lil’ sis Skip. Skipper that is. Nope she don’t even know who cut her hair Shhh~~~ But one thing for sure; to every lil’ boy and girl Barbie and Ken’s memories of love are genuinely pure. Dedicated to: “Who wants to play Barbie?” Dig Deep Now, I lay me down to rest, on Merriam-Webster’s, Collegiate Dictionary’s enormous chest. ‘Wit’ ‘sum’ ‘Psycho-babbling’, structural jargon’s an’ esoteric language to create this impression of digging deep at my utter-most best. What did I just say? Don’t know. ‘Twaz’ just a test. You failed though. For where there are two or three words gathered in research an’ resource; compare an’ contrast erupt on one accord, in- harmoniousness discord. Just like poetic thoughts lost in THE “Red Sea”. ‘Sumthin’ floats my boat within me! Something ‘ain’t’ quite ‘write’ So, I ‘right’ Hmmm??? There are no words that entirely define my poetry. Peculiarity. Hmm. No, that is not me. My poetry ‘iz’ ‘az’ un-unique as can be. Harmless, as Noah’s dove; have you not heard? Well maybe peculiarity does define me. ‘Cause’ that Raven bird sure does. Yeah, a black ‘byrd’ set free ‘wit’ absolutely NO return address to return thee. I get way too lost an’ cogitate poetically CORRECT thoughts. All in all; all is at lost, when I write as I set sail them pages in braille. My ears see what others dare dream My eyes hear What my mind can’t conceive My poetry speaks LOUD AND CLEAR to those who believe or perceive whichever~~~ Did you not know? My heart sets precedence of a prestigious poetic lepers’ writing prose? Who knew? Webster knew, that his poetry defined me. Yeah, I’m in it way to deep. Dedicated to: Mind games; don’t get ‘em’ twisted. One on One
Just saw this photo of Ty, and reminisced in my head ‘ov’r’ the years; O’ them gyms we played in. Schenley High; Fall league, comes to mind. Basketball in her head, heart, and hands. Two thumbs up!! Awesome layups free throws, foul shots; always on point ‘whomever’ she guarded. ‘Ev’n’ when against my very own daughters. Yeah her cousins; now that’s what’s up!!! I recollect Ty holding her coaches baby on her lap, if given a break. Then guarding her opponents, rotating back ‘ov’r’ to us WITH A KISS ‘anna’ SMILE saying “I’ll be back at half time” ‘ev’n’ if for a lil’ while! Well God kept Ty’s score. Now she’s on point, dribbling The Fathers’ ball halfway down court, guarding His gate; never needing time out, nor worrying ‘bout’ who she has to fake out. Score is never kept, cause she’s on that winning team: “The Heavenly Host” with none other than her Father, His Son, and the Holy Ghost AKA The Trinity. What a dream on Ty’s team!!! Ty I ‘seen’ you play today “One on One” if only a “cherry pick” away. Dedicated to: LaShawn Lewis, in memory of her beloved daughter “Ty” (HAPPY 27th BIRTHDAY TYLER “Ty”). Eddie Awusi is a Nigerian writer of Isoko extraction. He graduated from the prestigious Delta state university, Abraka in 2007, where, he got a Bachelor of Arts degree in English and Literature. He believes in the universality of Arts and global citizenship of the creative and Imaginative artist. I AM A HURRICANE I wish I were a star To beam my radiance Upon your gloom And chase away Your darkness. I wish I were a sea To hug your tired soul And give you succour Whenever the vehement sun Has worn your strength away. I wish I were a tree Gigantic, vast and shady Like the mighty banyan tree Branching into poles of the divide To shield and shelter you From the snarls and torments Of the vicissitudes of life. But I am a hurricane Which has brought you much pain I am such a pisser Galloping on your emotions. WARMING YOUR POWER My tongue is full of spears Biting bitterly bewildered, Into inundating icicles Of offaly obfuscated oculus. Disarm me of my haywire prance: Scouredly scooping sourly salmon Fecal fighting foully Stomach stench straddling saracens Quacks quaking quackery. And let me get lost in your frowns Warming your power Beside the hit of a glowering lightning. THERE IS NO PERFECT MATCH You were my dream: which I always longed, come true; Yet seem like a faraway land. We are distantly closeby: Never seeing each; Like the eye and the ear: Of a selfsame head. When I thought I have held you, I woke to futility; Of knowing, you, have slipped away Like a dream, Which I have woken from, And never to hold again. Why do you keep taunting me: Pouring scores of gold dust into my palm, Then, blowing them away With sneer in your eyes, And stormy breeze, in your hands? When I met you, I thought; I had found shelter Under your powerful embrace. But now, I can face the world better: Knowing when it comes to loving, There is no perfect match. Donal Mahoney, a native of Chicago, lives in St. Louis, Missouri. He has worked as an editor for The Chicago Sun-Times, Loyola University Press and Washington University in St. Louis. His fiction and poetry have appeared in various publications, including The Wisconsin Review, The Kansas Quarterly, The South Carolina Review, The Christian Science Monitor, Commonweal, Guwahatian Magazine (India), The Galway Review (Ireland), Public Republic (Bulgaria), The Osprey Review (Wales), The Istanbul Literary Review (Turkey) and other magazines. Some of his work can be found at http://eyeonlifemag.com/the-poetry-locksmith/donal-mahoney-poet.html#sthash.OSYzpgmQ.dpbs Coffee with Mr. Conscience There are a lot of people like me neither rich nor poor, idling in the middle who have never wanted for anything in our lives. We were reared by parents who fed us and sent us to school. We graduated and found jobs and then moved on to better ones. We raised families of our own. We have pensions now and can pay our bills. We can buy a new recliner when the old one breaks. Which is why I hate to stop for coffee at Pete’s Diner and find Mr. Conscience there sipping his and waiting to ask me what I’ve done for the poor lately. He’s an old caseworker who worked in the projects until retirement. He volunteers now with a group that caulks the gaps public grants don't cover. He never gives me a moment’s peace, always after me to help a needy person. He’ll take cash or a check, isn't fussy. He’s Mr. Conscience and he drives me nuts. But I wouldn't have coffee with anyone else after watching the inauguration. A Question for Dylann Roof Dylann Roof defended himself in the sentencing phase of his trial after he was convicted of killing nine people during a Bible study, the nine people who welcomed him after he walked into their church. Had I been the judge I would have asked Mr. Roof to approach the bench for a private consultation and I’d have said the court knows you’re sane because you were certified to stand trial and you have said insanity is not the reason you killed these people. You said it had to be done and you did it. Mr. Roof, are you possessed? An Askew Life On a clear day in the day room he will tell anyone he has had an askew life. When he was a small boy out for a Sunday walk with his parents his father would shout not to walk on the edge of the sidewalk and in grammar school the nuns would get upset because he didn’t always write between the lines and at jobs after college despite doing things well and getting promotions he had a habit of being late and in a long otherwise satisfactory marriage his wife would get upset because he didn't put stamps on envelopes straight. On a bad day in the day room he will tell anyone none of those people is still alive. Mourning a Child at Midnight Some choose not to have children others maybe one or two three seems to be the max now it’s not like when Paul was young and a family might have had six or more the wife at home, the husband working. Families were big back then. Now families are considered big when a couple has more than three. Years ago Paul and Faye had five but after she took that midnight call and learned they had lost a daughter Faye cried for awhile and then hugged Paul and whispered why didn’t we have seven. A Visit to Charlie’s Diner A corner sentinel for 40 years, Charlie’s Diner is the only landmark in a neighborhood of blue-collar people who love their burgers thick and juicy along with fries and a giant pickle. Nina has managed Charlie's for 30 years and says customers never complain. Prices go up when costs go up and customers understand but they like to moan because it's the fashionable thing to do. I ask Nina about Charlie, for whom the diner is named. She says she never met him but folks still come in and say Charlie said to feed them and to put it on the cuff. They’ll pay the bill later. She laughs and tells them Charlie hasn’t told her that yet. And it’s no wonder, Nina says. Charlie died 40 years ago, the week the diner opened. He was a quiet mynah bird, never said a word. Ndaba Sibanda`s work has been featured in several publications including The Piker Press, Bricolage, The Dying Goose, Whispering Prairie Press, Saraba Jim, Outside In Literary & Travel Magazine ,The Metric, Unlikely Stories and Silver Birch Press. Invitation For Confiscation the nakedness of a bag of lies is clothed in a shifty sea of hollowness and leakiness those who always seek to act unimpeded in search of the curtailment of other souls` rights forfeit their right to be respected Rising To The Challenges Of Today History is a story of now, a story of today’s activities that becomes a story of the past. History is not only a story of sorrow, but a carefully-crafted story of tomorrow-- a story of what to initiate, swallow or follow. History is a drawing shaped by people’s decisions and actions-- usually bold, boring but big and beautiful. History is a victim’s fight to claim a future, it is an aggrieved people’s stride to a destiny through a clearly defined collective and active voice. History is yesterday’s atmospheric pressure playing out through today’s barometers of life. History is more than a story—it is an awakening. History is not a passive past, but a present progressive response to the challenges of today and tomorrow. It is our upset tummies crying out day and night for nothing short of the detoxification and protection of our bodies from yesterday and today’s abdicables. History is you and I doing something about our present and future situations, making life-changing decisions and actions. Therefore, be brave, be ready because history is certainly coming for and counting on you. Today’s actions are tomorrow’s light or shadow. What She Said From a mere village girl Who was raped by a man-- Dudu is an international icon I was listening to her She did not say that People are saying things She did not discuss Her love life at all either People are saying things She said she will enhance Africa’s voice against Those who abuse others In the name of love She said what sat high On her agenda was justice What is this story about Her being saucy and weird And dating low little men? Yes she said she will step On the big testicles of men Who abuse vulnerable women Does that make her saucy or weird? Who says the castration of wild bulls Is a bad idea in a world that needs no beasts? Unswayed Folly a tortoise has a clownish tendency of farting and urinating and sleeping and defecating on the heads of those who keep it for whatever reason when people lie and claim they’re unable to be affected by dung and damage or unaffected by bigotry or untouched by suffocating odor or immune to indecency or impervious to thuggery then all this begets a big question: are they real? Blustery Tendencies
the author was deaf to the sound of cyberbullying from the authorities, from the corridors of power and fear, the forces of terror were on a mission to crack down on the voices of reason, voices of choice, dissenting and alternative Rick Edelstein was born and ill-bred on the streets of the Bronx. His initial writing was stage plays off-Broadway in NYC. When he moved to the golden marshmallow (Hollywood) he cut his teeth writing and directing multi-TV episodes of “Starsky & Hutch,” “Charlie’s Angels,” “Chicago,” “Alfred Hitchcock,” et al. He also wrote screenplays, including one with Richard Pryor, “The M’Butu Affair” and a book for a London musical, “Fernando’s Folly.” His latest evolution has been prose with many published short stories and novellas, including, “Bodega,” “Manchester Arms,” “America Speaks,” “Women Go on,” “This is Only Dangerous,” “Aggressive Ignorance,” “Buy the Noise,” and “The Morning After the Night.” He writes every day as he is imbued with the Judeo-Christian ethic, “A man has to earn his day.” Writing atones. Bigot I feel like I’m in a collapsing box All is too tight from my shirt to my sox I’m pushed inside to the unsteady ledge Getting the ride ready to leap off the edge casablanca sri lanka china carolina goa samoa gambia zambia libya namibia prussia russia altoona laguna andora sonora aruba cuba Ahhh okay...chant to the max Helps me relax Even though I toe the rim of mean I have to go to words to escape the scene With nothing to lose Home of the blues I’m just gonna’ ramble And let the words scramble Not for you to appreciate It is time to depreciate Do not attempt to realize What logical mortals can’t surmise I need not your permission To simply own my sedition By now you just may be aware Said he as if I should care Of all the media hip hop hyping That yours truly is stereotyping Saying that my mouth is like an open spigot Damning me with a label of a broken bigot I may be many things including uncouth But BIGOT stands for Big On Truth With such a masterful def to dine God is a bigot not a chef divine In his omnipotent self Impotent tenants on the shelf All kindsa’ shapes and forms Judging others became the norms No matter your programmed objections Avoiding your liberal damned reflections I won’t buy into your mark of wrong As I continue to hark my atonal song Just insisting that you feel and reveal Beyond your listing to undo the real You may beseech the reasons why As each will certainly live to die Don’t plug in your blanket of politically correct Like it or not you have to disconnect And stop blaming me for spouting clichés Even Stevie can’t drive with directions from Waze My rant can not be a one plus one equals Setting us up for soporific sequels The world’s meal it deals is not a sensible fad You can’t conceal the reprehensible bad Take off your shades ‘n see what you find Look in the glades and peel back the rind Throw a dart in a part of the human condition That charts the heart of prescient perdition Okay time to get on to the nefarious track Here are the facts for your elegant snack: While I was serving Afghans unnerving My wife whom I loved but did not like Wavered ‘tween sane and nutty psyche Still she was once my wife Who just so happened to lose her life By trying to escape the perennial dues Of human gloomin’ doomin’ blues By cavorting and snorting an escaping drug As deadly as a gaping .45 slug I may be bent but not broken A heated need heard but not spoken Repeated the creed to get satisfaction A man ain’t a man until he takes action So when I left the lives of braying motherfuckers Afghanis sell their wives to low paying truckers Turbaned hustlers are like a leaking boat While you plug the holes they steal your coat With too many teeth missing amid stolen fuel They lay a wreath while dissing casually cruel My wife was crazy but she made me laugh Her mind was hazy like a silent giraffe Yet she mos def didn’t deserve to O-D So I had to even the scales for me ‘n she When I left the force I asked around God’s Favorite Children of course I found Yes I did a Duterte on the spurious gang Folks got furious when the Latinos rang But regardless of sharing your sensitivities Ignoring your caring baring proclivities God’s Favorite Children is the name they chose Their goods go through the vein or the nose God’s Favorite Children are the Mexican crew God’s Favorite Children cook up their stew And distribute a heaping of Amb-Fubinaca A kilo gets half a mil and that ain’t no caca By now you may have derided The end of their game I decided It was time for the planet to be finally rid Of God’s Favorite Children whose highest bid AK-47 24 Karat they labeled as master choice Discarding any dissenting voice Drugs made zombies out of all the users And killed more than half of the weakened abusers God’s Favorite Children left a deep taste As I eliminated ten on a heap of waste Three women and one lone teen with a gun Fourteen years old and stoned for fun He looked at me and couldn’t be higher I aimed my piece and triggered the fire But I was lurching and searching for the chief Who got too rich on a bitch of grief I finally located the drooling pig Who was mixing and fixing in a bad wig Jefe fed a dog AK-47 who had convulsions I saw his eyes pleading in heaving revulsions I asked el Jefe what did the dog do to you Fuck him he said it’s from another crew You shoulda’ seen the face of this ugly dude Staring at me with a trace of crude Daring me to challenge his realm of sin Tight corn-rows, chipped tooth, an evil grin I wounded him in his bad shoulder But he stood up strong and got mad bolder Charging at me I shot each of his legs He collapsed like white boys’ fraternity kegs Still alive he ventured to curse me boldly Through dentured teeth I hearsed him coldly I said comerlo porcina to this human depletion Shot him in the heart for this swine’s completion And ripped off his Gucci gold doom necklace Laughing coochie coochie in the gloom of reckless Did I tell you the teen who I shot through the eye He tried to surrender he didn’t want to die But for me and my wife he had to go I killed the puppy if you have to know It was as if his aorta sprung a leak As blood poured through his acned cheek I feel like I’m in a collapsing box All is too tight from my shirt to my sox I’m pushed inside to the unsteady ledge Getting the ride ready to leap off the edge Puppy guppy baboon racoon bat cat beagle eagle calf giraffe crow doe deer steer eel seal fawn prawn germ worm buck duck camel mammal clam lamb Ahhh okay...chant to the max Helps me relax So does all that rankle you comfortable folk Who thankful eat eggs without a yolk To say that the Mexicano dealers Have nothing to do with Latino healers That Mexico is filled with positive people From great parks to churches with elegant steeples From the Zocalo assuring us you can find Mexicanos who are pouring and kind Hiding in your exclusive liberal kinders It’s time to remove your delusive blinders Here’s some info that will strike some fear In Mexico’s first ten months of the year There were seventeen thousand homicides Swallow that with your bromicides No I’m not validating that ignorant Trump But we can’t ignore the score from the dump No matter what your chosen stand Opinions will not find a lost remand It’s time for niceties to dissolve into lewd Reality won’t absolve and will mos def intrude Speaking of which Try this bitch Who deemed to favor And seemed to savor Condescending tough love From the worn bench seat above And no matter how I tried to nudge No room at the inn from a black on black judge Oh there you go I can hear ya’ Racist tags don’t make me fear ya’ As you try and punish me with blame Asserting in God’s eyes we’re all the same Don’t lay it on God with obstinate lies Differences in races are not hard to surmise Black dicks ‘n lips ‘n women’s butts‘re bigger You can say the n-word but you can’t say nigger Because we’re all the same is your redundant retort But stop and look at the world of sport Like in women’s tennis who is the best Serena wins with her substantial chest She’s going to wed a guy who is white A match instead that’s outta’ sight And 90 percent of the NBA Are black men in the field of play Speaking of the game What is sadly lame Is them playing muzac during the action As if they need to juice the traction But before it gets lost while your outta’ joint Stop judging me and admit my point That stereotypes and clichés Are accurate in most ways And if you think this indulgent limerick Is just a rhyming chiming gimmerick Or simply a matter of semantics From a grown man way too pedantic Insisting that this kinda’ contextual rapping Was invented by Blacks in Bronx basement trapping But even that is a canard Check the rap of the Bard Or Emily Dickinson or Robert Frost Poets paid dues at a demanding cost Like the rapper Bankroll Fresh was killed one night His real name was Trantavious White And many players of NBA fame Have a distinctly different name Like yes Kentavious Juvale and Tarik Originality perhaps is what they seek No I’m not doing a racist contriving Black names are their spacious striving Okay let’s not limit but dare to spread The specious wealth of the living and dead With dark humor at the tip of uncaring Let’s take a look at our political daring In fact it really makes me merry To cop a peek at Rick Perry Who yearned to be nominated Or is it to be dominated Insisting a department is out of date But couldn’t remember midst debate The Department of Energy...Ooops, too late Rick Perry’s a clown to repudiate In case you aren’t getting drunk in bars Watching Perry Dance With the Stars Check out the lout in Cabinet-Trump Rick Perry will run the Energy’s sump And how about a man with an attention span Of a street kid playing kick the can America’s demise is now evident By electing him your president Look at me who’s being busted Only just because I dusted Those who earned The right to be burned While Generals galore Kill by the score Drones dropping bombs With graceful aplomb Mothers dying Military sighing Apologizing target was an error Tell that to orphans living in terror And back in the good ‘ole u.s. of a We’re in the grips of the N.R.A. Mass murders of children in American schools But the 2nd amendment keeps us fools As the lobby got congress by the buns Supporting sales of more and more guns Remember the song Chicago Chicago the toddlin’ town Murders galore is now Chicago’s renown Killing in Chi-town is now routine Black blood flows on the streets of mean And if that ain’t enough Things got more rough Americans now own three hundred and ten Million I said million guns and then Each owner has an average of eight Not only to kill just out of hate Six hundred accidents every year People die not intended I hear Kill and kill sister and brother Unfortunate deaths of one another Families with children under fourteen Ooops sorry you’re dead if you know what I mean Even a two year old boy Thought it was just a toy When he found a gun on the floor Of daddy’s car near the door He pulled the trigger and shot through the seat Killing his mother an NRA feat I know it is a merciful respite you seek But a toddler shoots someone once a week And every thirty-eight seconds in U.S. of A. Many try to off-themselves every day And daily one hundred do the do Eliminating their living view At a rate of more than twice a day Kids are shot ‘n killed without a say Violence and war are not our way wink wink We’re really just folks by the kitchen sink While we raise the flag and sing U.S.A. Leading in Arms sales as of today Forty billion dollars at the arms bizarre We’re ahead of the world near and far We sold seventeen billion to Qatar Including devices that will burn and char Buildings and if people are near Eliminates their fate have no fear And to balance things in the middle east Egypt’s twelve billion adds to the feast Lest they feel left out eight billion more To Saudi Arabia’s arsenals’ score We love peace in the U.S. of A. But drilling ‘n killing is the American way And I’m being busted For those that I dusted To be burned at the stake Give me a break I feel like I’m in a collapsing box All is too tight from my shirt to my sox I’m pushed inside to the unsteady ledge Getting the ride ready to leap off the edge Altruistic nihilistic realistic angsterism gangsterism alaska nebraska I’ll ask ya noise poise boys toys girls curls best breasts light fight Ahhh okay...chant to the max Helps me relax I’ve been asked why I rhyme Taken to task for my crime I do it as it amuses me I do it because it confuses thee Including the man with the power Who sat up there with a glower The judge the black one was deriding That I was not law abiding But how can a person abide To what is rotting inside Even the Chinese call the USA Polarized night and day Dissolute is a word they used Dysfunctional and confused With politicians so often corrupt Treasonous reason is abrupt Who can abide to what is not fair There are no sides in this nightmare So riding that thought and those words I rocked on assuming the glooming turds Would be easily and clearly heard Even by an academic black nerd So I told the judge don’t take a side When there really is naught to abide He may have heard but did not listen With dull eyes staring nary a glisten His orbs glazed as if I was dead Not giving an inch or even a thread I tried again and again to make my point But even then the judge was out of joint So I shouted you’re not hearing me judge He glared and just would not budge Grabbing my dick in an implosive diss I snapped and rapped then abide this Which of course the judge did not admire My rant on his judicial pyre When he pronounced out his sentence I announced-not repentance He said may God have mercy your soul Mercy from a maniac is not my goal Oh I can hear from every brainiac Your God is not a maniac He is a benevolent force from above Who offers of course eternal love And if I go too far in your judgmental libel You refer me to God’s book the Bible Which is a dastardly bastardly combination In Leviticus gays are an abomination Or selling your daughter into slavery Exodus permits the knavery And take Leviticus to your grave As it approves of owning many a slave God is good boasts your acumen While children disfigured is beyond most human Burn this infidel at the stake Your God is Good - give me a break. Even Epicurus who is long time dead Indicting God he clearly said If God is omnipotent and help not giving To the maimed and starving barely living If your God does nothing in the face of killing Either he’s not able or perhaps not willing Then why call him God Epicurus posed Per Gertrude a rose is a rose is a rose Enough of that let’s move the locus And rearrange to change the focus Let’s expand our views And check out the Jews Also unleash the scarabs And invite the Arabs I can feel and see your glower-full When I ask why Jews are so power-full Jews and Arabs are all Semites With different agendas of wrongs ‘n rights Release the dark and let in the light But beware of the bark and the dog’s bite Here’s the data, the relevant news The world has 14 million Jews Who won 15 dozen Nobel Prizes Yet 2 billion Muslim surprises Won only three despite the number No, I am not saying they are dumber Just a culture that is so severe Only the Koran do they revere While they oppress their women to obey Denying their offerings of the day Muslims curtail an open college Denying to women all human knowledge While Jews are a hundred percent literate 60 percent of Muslims are illiterate Blaspheme the Koran and Muslims eradicate Argue about the Torah while Jews educate Muslims shout to Allah While Jews nosh their challah And in case you think I’m ignoring The Jews who blink while snoring Look at Israel’s Orthodox A serious pox on a box of lox An 8 year old Jewish girl was terrified When orthodox Jews won’t be denied Because her dress didn’t fit their ignorant code They hurled rocks and eggs from their abode On the bus Rabbis order females to sit in the back In common with racists and the Muslim’s attack Jewish extremists removed park benches Saying women shouldn’t sit with their stenches So the Arabs and Taliban and Orthodox Jews All adhere to this repressive muse Of course women are not like men Demanding equality again and again But reality somehow gets in a muddle In the male/female contentious puddle You got a pussy we got a dick Straight or gay take your pick But don’t go into feminists fits Just because we like your tits And to you dues paying faggots I must be blunt How can you choose dry butts to a juicy cunt TEN MINUTES! Ten minutes you say. Okay. WANT A PRIEST OR A MINISTER? That’s humorous or sinister Ain’t this a bitch I don’t have the itch I’M JUST THE MESSENGER, MAN. Listen bro’ not now or when No minister or priest, see ya’ in ten I feel like I’m in a collapsing box All is too tight from my shirt to my sox I’m pushed inside to the unsteady ledge Getting the ride ready to leap off the edge Ten minutes hard to relate Can’t really concentrate Rambling Scrambling One and one All sense is done Nonsense has the floor Logic ran out the door Truth to power Is a wilting flower The juices seethe No room to breathe Mother a mean-spirited beauty Who never paid her maternal duty Father shot through the head I was just a kid when I saw him dead What the fuck it matters not Planet earth is ticking rot New Delhi Is smelly Shortness of breath Thirty G yearly death Ignore climate change Die home home on the range Iranians hooked on meth Not concerned with impending death Using shisha to lose weight Epidemic is a dire fate I’m ranting Panting Nihilistic Realistic Hitler was not such a bad bloke First campaign anti-smoke All he wanted was healthy men To say heil Hitler now and then Christmas was illegal in u.s.a. Eighteen hundreds pagan holiday Before Pius became the Pope He wrote an erotic book that was dope Terrorism is good for the worn dying biz Sells flowers to adorn the crying fizz Street cleaners get neat overtime Rid the flowers from the seat of the crime In a hurricane I can dance Am I still sane perchance I am on pause Looking for Santa clause In summer A bummer Do not appear To show any fear Asking for repeal Was not my deal I coulda’ got it if I repented For a life in jail I resented To live and die in the slam No way Jose no thank you ma’am This world will soon self-destroy For every lost girl and boy This planet-earth just ain’t shit I am absolutely through with it TEN’S UP. IT’S TIME. READY? Ready? For the land of Nod Yav Hashem, the hand of God Who the fuck is ever ready? - - When human beings experience trama or life stressors it is not uncommon for their lives to unravel. My passion is to bring a touch of healing and peace through my writings, We as a group need to b reminded that we do not have to go through issues alone someone understands. I write with a stream of consciousness so as to stay real and truthful. Knowing that no one style of writing is key for all individuals therefore, i draw from experience to endeavor all genre. As i am a veteran, mom, wife and lover of all life it helps me to write as if i am sitting next to the child, adult or families. If you feel anything by way of emotion or food for thought then my purpose as been achieved. Theresa Ford (MommaT) #1love Long time coming Summer's engine winding down Grass stops growing, leaves turn brown Close the pool, put bikes away Football season starts today! Pupils dilate, brain goes south Shovel chips from bowl to mouth Wash'em down with icy beer Listen to the home crowd cheer Wife comes in. "I'm going out." "yeah. Whatever. Fine," I shout Halfway through the halftime show Wife returns with boyfriend Joe Sneaks him past me up the stairs To our room where... Ah, who cares? I've got bigger fish to fry Lions, Packers, Bears, oh my Find the game on Channel Two Wife's in doorway, hair askew "Joe and I are leaving town." Ref just signaled... Yes! First down! "Kids are coming too," she states QB comes to line and waits "Yeah. Whatever, Fine," I say "Can't talk now. Important play." On my way to take a pee Something is amiss, I see Closet door was left ajar In the driveway: just one car Clothing strewn 'cross bedroom floor Nothing in wife's bureau drawer Lipstick scrawl on mirror glass: "Football season? Kiss my a..!" What would prompt such deep chagrin? What indeed? I scratch my chin Maybe I should treat her kinder? Maybe I should go and find her... Tragedy and heartache looming Check my watch. The game's resuming Score is tied, the ball gods beckon Gotta stay the course, I reckon Thirty minutes' worth of plays Then I'll change my errant ways Bill and coo and wine and dine her Buy my gal her own recliner! Do Not be afraid of yourself As I try to understand life Believing that we all go through strife Considering the different paths we walk Do yourself a favor and stop all the talk Emotions run high Finding you need to stop the urge Gaining your perspective so hope can emerge Have faith in the unknown Identify the overblown Just ignore those so called cure-all's Kindly remember his wake-up calls Let's back track a minute Memories are perfect tools Notably allowing you to understand rules Open the flood gates to your heart Please pay attention know that you're smart Quietly moving through this maze Readily aware that life's in disarray Strut on down that road less traveled Take off those restraints that you've always battled Undefined gifts are there to discover Virtually in your sight you just need to uncover Worrying about your past, present, future Xerography will only cause conjecture Yes this is my feeling I truly believe Zoetic is always the way to proceed Check and Balance Being in touch with feelings Concerned for the few Does not remove top billing Elimination of self-renewal Foreboding causes hesitation Let emotions on their own untangle Mention you feel afraid Nonetheless due to the holes you mangled Opening up the bulging flood gates Places in the heart peeking through Very quietly see that you're growing Wondrously relinquishing oh so tight reins Xultations at surrendering that anchor you're towing You await those road less traveled paved lanes Zen to your Yang as always is saving grace MOMMA (Please Listen) I have to tell you this. You didn't fail. Not even a little. YOU ARE NOT A HORRIBLE MOTHER! You didn't choose this. You didn't want this to happen. You didn't do anything wrong. It just happened. To you. Even though everything within you was screaming no, no, no, no. God didn't do this to punish you, smite you, or to teach you a lesson. That is not God's way. You could not have prevented this if you tried harder, prayed harder, or were a "better" person. Nor if you are better, loved harder, yoga-ed more, did x,y, or z to the nth degree-fill in the blank with any other lie your mind devises. No, there is nothing more you could have done. And you are the best mother there is because you would have done absolutely anything to keep your child alive. To breathe your last breath instead. That is the ultimate kind of love. You are the ultimate kind of mother!! So wash your hands of any naysayers, betrayers, or those who sprinted in the other direction when you needed them most. Anyone whose words or looks have implied this was somehow your fault. This will never be your fault, no matter how many different ways someone tries to tell you it was. Especially if that someone happens to be you!!! Sometimes it's your own inner voice that shoves you into the darkest corner of despair, like an abuser, telling you over and over and over again you failed as a mother. Convincing you if only this and what if that. Saying you coulda, shoulda done this or that so your child would not have died. DO NOT BELIEVE IT, NOT EVEN FOR A SECOND!!!! YOU ARE THE BEST DAMN MOTHER IN THE ENTIRE WORLD!!!!! No one else could do what you do. No one else could carry this unrelenting burden as courageously. There is no one, no one, no one who could ever, ever replace you. No one. You were chosen to be my mother. Yes--chosen. You have a sacred strength. You are the mother of all mothers!!!!!! So breathe, mama. Believe, mama. Fight mama, you did not fail not even a little. For what it's worth, I see you.It takes invincible strength to mother a child that you can no longer, hold, see, touch, or hear. You are a superhero mama!!!!!!! The truth is, you haven't failed at all. In fact, just the opposite. You are truly, the most inspiring, courageous, loving mother there is-a warrior mama through and through. YOU ARE THE MOTHER OF ALL MOTHERS, FOR EVEN IN DEATH, YOU LOVINGLY MOTHER YOUR PRECIOUS CHILD STILL!!!!!!!! Job=Bribery or Best Applicant Inspired by the 'digital' innovations... Placed in the traffic of technical invasions After his hard earned education... Man sets out to his ambitious mission He discovers "Stigmas" that often haunt.. Confronted with authoritative people who tend to taunt! Discouraged but still looking... Realizes "Jobs" are on the basis of advance booking High recommendations in a firm Leaves common applicants in a squirm Skilled professionals take a back seat Pay money to get a job - It's a defeat! The dream job cruise is never smooth sail The pace may be violent and makes man frail The virus of society-multi-level corruption Affects the changing face of generations Money-minded society - skills exists ... Young talented minds can't resist Facing atrocity that wreaks a sluggish economy Peace filled with tears - a false harmony! "Fight bribery" - the voices are low Mostly spoken so no will know Lois Greene Stone, writer and poet, has been syndicated worldwide. Poetry and personal essays have been included in hard & softcover book anthologies. Collections of her personal items/ photos/ memorabilia are in major museums including twelve different divisions of The Smithsonian. a 5344 foot goal Word association: Cascade, Snowy, Skylight. Visually gentle and pretty. I ‘see’ footage of Marcy, the highest peak. Am I up to the struggle to reach the uppermost point of another Natural creation? Imagine what a view I’d have from that Adirondack Mountain top. Narcissus Impressed was she by hands unused except to hold a cigarette. One brow was raised her mouth a sneer, she tossed her head then tapped one foot. Fell ashes now with spite she missed the tray that stood within her reach; impressed was she by self, though none about her was. Michael Marrotti is an author from Pittsburgh with a chemical imbalance and lack of patience. He's also a faithful volunteer at the Light Of Life Rescue Mission going on three years now, he believes in action. You can purchase his chapbook here: https://www.amazon.com/F-D-Approved-Poetry-Michael-Marrotti/dp/153907577X and if you need to reach him: michaelmarrotti@gmail.com Christ Killers Bob Dylan gave us something to think about through the power of rhythm and soul you go your way and I'll go mine Adam Sandler made us smile when life began to show its hideous face tears can wait Funny People is hilarious Michael Savage proved to be fit as my personal mentor from inept to adept he helped to advance my critical thinking Woody Allen was there for me when I couldn't make up my mind over what woman was best Manhattan taught me valuable life lessons Jonas Salk is worthy of my admiration the man is a miracle worker he saved millions of lives by creating the vaccine for Polio From monotheism to Hollywood communism in-between they survived Hitler to produce cellular phones atomic energy the Heimlich maneuver and yes even Google Bernie Sanders was running a campaign on ethics all that support he received was a crucial blow to anti-Semitism The chosen people throughout time have endeavored to make a more sensible life out of all this madness The world is not spinning in harmony but it's better off now after all their contributions |
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