A POWERFUL WEAPON IS PHOTO-POETRY
Seriously, it’s not to poke a hole in my cheek with my tongue that I’m blowing the whistle on me and the guys; Vladimir’s guys. Do the right thing, someone suggested to me — cynically.
It’s about doing the right thing. It’s not about just me. It’s about everybody. Once upon a time, Art taught me to read and to write; and I especially love writing, ground-breaking, poetry.
Twitter’s 280 character algorithm has been, for Arthur and me a useful revelation, surprisingly utilitarian in marketing, education and in composing, innovative, novel-like, novel, poetry.
Composing on 3 levels, 280 character tweets metamorphose to blog logs, metamorphosing, in turn, into a manuscript in hermetic, solitude; a poor man’s, publicity; a rich man’s — poetry.
Of earthly forms of written expression most like heavenly hymns, between chapter and verse ’tis verse that is most favored by Him — Personally. Verse — best expresses — His Holy, Personality.
Attention Jew, Christian, Muslim, agnostic and atheist. Read your Scriptures in the context of the Scriptures of one another. So that ye may compare and contrast them more thoughtfully.
And woe to him without wisdom enough to read Scripture; nor smart enough to read them, thoughtfully, in context, finding many, eye-opening, nexuses, between them, astoundingly.
Recall Pen’s commission to Art: Tweet, blog and pen to the children, epigrammatic, Grecian poetry. Teach them about Twitter’s algorithm; and Google Translate; and alchemy, in poetry.
What’s happening is miraculous; whether predetermined, or not. I should know. Art told me so. I ghost-write for Arthur, disseminating a miraculous message — poetically — plausible.
Photo-poetry, is yet fledgling. Yet it may be humanity’s disarming weapon against the weapons of war. Mightier than a sword may be ink and pen! Study Arthur’s poetry’s, potential
Vladimir’s, infamously long arms, we really, fear. That’s on Earth tho. Last night on Luna however we dreamt Art’s recommenders fear having too little to say, on Arthur’s trajectory, as an author.
I hasten therefore, their fears, to allay; fear not, my fellow Americans that no one ever hears, or has ever ere heard Art’s verse or heard tell of it. Still, indeed, it is destined to go viral, for Arthur.
My ghost-written verse is destined to go viral. It shan’t matter that, heretofore, Art’s sole credit; a single poem I’ve taken due care to cite on his behalf on his curriculum vitae. Given the course
of his whistleblowing life lately; isolating from a virus and hiding out from Vladimir’s assassins; moving, from one safe house, every 24 hours, to another, a whistleblowing Arthur, of course …