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Poetry Train Africa: Ethiopia

By John E. WordSlinger All Rights Reserved ©

Mystery / Humor

CHAPTER 10 The Blessings of Skin, Steel, and the Dangerous Donkey of Crania Poetico Blowing the Horn of Omega Poetry to Cows Burundi 3rd of December 2017

The land smelled of burning iron, and twisted other metal like copper. This burning was wide, deep and blooming although many other things were blooming. Cattle were everywhere, and all of this gave Andy, Boet and Redd that wisdom enhanced feeling.

This was a feeling of wisdom finally examining the interiors of their skulls, giving them the sense of power over Danger. They were Poetologists examining place, time and wisdom. They were determined to fight for Poetry regardless of rich people’s territorial voodoo hexes from any race. Anyone in their way were making a big mistake. Shock returned right back with Poetry~acupuncture, and never again perpetrators and Danger would control the Poetry blood flow. Oh painful reality, shall fully be returned back to it’s rightful owners.

Redd, Andy, Scratch, and now Boet walked through all prejudiced ages and lands but here, here’s where a great curse they knew could be a blessing. Unity may not be realistic as international law but all were in the fight to be as exposing the now.

Andy went to his knees, and said an internal prayer. This land of the human heart shape was near center of the heart of lands. Stage here, right here was near to co-ordinance, and here they made it to Burundi. They were ready for this poetry wisdom expedition.

John Hanning Speke, a well rounded intellectual explorer saw them. He rode a Camel slowly, and recited lines of Poetry he was working on, but later in time he was known as a snake in the grass. So, he, and his comrade slithered their way to them. The mysterious Poet Explorer Richard Francis Burton followed behind on his Camel, and looked disgruntled even though he spoke twenty five languages, not including dialects.

Against all odds Boet felt Redd and Andys’ wisdom and their human spirits. They were enhanced.

Scratch engaged body movements that alerted them Danger was here.

These men seemed wore out to Andy and Redd, but why were they wore out? When the weary were weary, they were weary for a powerful reason.

Boet picked up on this too and spoke, “Emperor Nero was here before, have no fear.”

A donkey came up to them, a fearless female Donkey.

“Where have you been Jacqueline?” as Andy got up he asked, and Redd picked up on a personal thing Andy proclaimed just now. A fearless Donkey meant one thing, divinity. They noticed Speke and Burton seemed to be suffering from something. They seemed torn apart.

Andy and Redd got the gut feeling these men could not handle madness but were not bad men just men living in wisdom of this time, and breathing excitement even though exhausted.

Richard Francis Burton spoke to them first as they got off their Camels, “If that Donkey talks to you in any way you are in luck, and the Donkey may guide you to anything lost.”

“Have you seen any squashed frogs?” John Hanning Speke asked. “If not, evil is approaching.”

A barking fox could be heard.

Burton looked at Speke and said, “These men are not spellbound.”

A Burundi cattle herdsman walking by…came with long horned Cows, and was reciting Poetry to his Cows. As mentioned, cattle were everywhere but now near.

They all took drinks from their canteens. Andy began to yodel, and this spooked Burton, and everyone laughed.

Burton seemingly hiding his reaction speaking, “This land is teeming with Poets.”

“No, so Poetry begets Poetry?” Redd asked.

Speke replied, “Through the language. Their mother tongue here basically gives them all the codes to live by. Everyone is a Poet here. There are no sort of experts of Poetry, and everybody tries. It is really at the center of community, at the center of society. It’s a means for social development.”

Andy started to talk to the herdsman Poet and spoke, “Wapoets, Mpoets, Upoets, Kipoets, Kipoets.”

Andy jumped on his donkey, and rode it around the herdsman Poet and said it all again. “Wapoets, Mpoets, Upoets, Kipoets, Kipoets.” Andy laid back, and scratched his back against the Donkeys back and laughed saying, “Oo, woo. Moo moo.”

The Poet herdsman laughed and spoke, “Banana Beer! Harshness forget.” He pointed at them and said, “Walking troubadour.”

This fueled Andy, and Andy was making a friend “Hey I don’t love my voice but I love the words, just ask the Cow who walk among the herd, and if my first language sounds like a hiccup, back up, it’s just the a-holes I have been known to Poetry shut up. When I lay down it will be the full and last mark of my fill, as a book and a poem that glows in the dark. I never let anything international cut off my innocence. Idioms, y’all shy and die to tombs, you barely sing to me, and I sing to my mothers’ womb. This is not some shut fit expeditional movie screenplay fray, this is all the neo now, and we are here today.”

Andy rode his Donkey around him again, “Dorito Poetry mosquito, my pet of darkness from Soweto, I am a white boy from a Chicago ghetto. MY COUNTRY BURNS, NEVER LEARNS. They don’t own the world as it turns!”

Burton spoke, “You all have no weapons, and not much luggage.” as he placed his hand on his belt near his bayonet.

Speke spoke as to interrupt, “I sense a mysterious importance.”

Andy replied, “We have praises as passes and unlike most, we don’t make asses out of the host.”

Burton didn’t like Andys’ attitude, and their attitude back, was of, so what.

Richard Francis Burton replied, “Although, I like their outcast presence.”

Burton and Andy noticed the Phantom and said nothing.

“Do you have any tobacco and papers?” Andy asked.

Burton obliged, and handed Andy a satchel and spoke, “Do what thy manhood bids thee do, from none but self expect applause; He noblest lives and noblest dies who makes and keeps his self-made laws. All other Life is Living Death, a world where none but Phantoms dwell, A breath, a wind, a sound, a voice, a tinkling of the camel-bell.”

“Nice, I feel the amber of time.” Andy replied getting off his Donkey and was aware Burton had expertise bayonet skills. Andy thought about Tommy Lee and his motley cowbell, and laughed inside.

Burton spoke, “I am a big man, and I always pay a big price,” and recited a poem of his entitled, “In Sleep.”

NOT drowsihood and dreams and mere idless,
Nor yet the blessedness of strength regained,
Alone are in what men call sleep. The past,
My unsuspected soul, my parents’ voice,
The generations of my forbears, yea,
The very will of God himself are there
And potent-working: so that many a doubt
Is wiped away at daylight, many a soil
Washed cleanlier, many a puzzle riddled plain.
Strong, silent forces push my puny self
Towards unguessed issues, and the waking man
Rises a Greatheart where a Slave lay down.

Speke laughed and requested, “Sir Richard recite your Black Sheep poem.”

“I like, I love,” Andy replied, “But I sense a Poetry Flood! A Poetry Blessing! One poem may fit all?”

The herdsman smiled and said, “My name is Jado.” and everyone smiled, and shook hands.

Andy laughed and said, “I smell like a Donkey now.” Andy looked at Burton, and asked, “So where is the Nile. I like to bathe in it. Keeps my melanin clean.”

Everyone laughed.

“Oh never mind, I smell like a super Donkey!” Andy proclaimed.

Everyone laughed.

“Scratch doesn’t mind. I want to meet other animals too.” Andy stated.

No one laughed.

“Naked or not, Angels see us naked, speaking of clothes, fashion, what does Poetry and fashion have in common through time? Andy asked.

A slave hunter caravan came strolling nearby, loaded with ivory tusks, and bells. They rang a haunting chime.

“I think I know that squad, and we will follow them because they are more equip for conflict than we are.” Burton proclaimed.

Boet looked at Redd and Andy, and they gave no response, except Andy went to one of his bags and took out their tent. Andy spoke to himself, “No, no we are not following any demonic clan. I am like God. I see no color. Noah, no one knows ha. Best to carry on, and leave us alone.”

Jado spoke with sternness, “Notion potion, Evil in motion, but we must keep Poets well, keep them, keep them as in cattle, but a free cattle to graze upon the grass of Poetry. Do Poets cry when their readers die, do they, do they, or do they rejoice? Do Poets realize Poets die, when Poets don’t share the other Poets voice, but hey, keep on with that megalomania, it’s your choice.”

“I want to get naked and rejoice with the emotion, that I am white and I am not evil! I sleep and dream well at night.” Andy stated, and stripped naked and rolled around on the ground. “Although I smell like a Donkey, and now also like the earth, and the light of the sun makes you see, what makes you smell? I am sub-human because I am a Super Poet!! Gaze upon me, gaze upon my truth in nakedness. Scratch here is Poetrys’ Claw! And we are the new Poetry Law! And Jado that was grand.”

“You have a long march ahead of you Andy, and the paths you take, odds will be molested.” Burton said.

“Look I have John Adams clown gear, don’t make me bust it out.” Andy replied.

Redd, Boet, and Jado laughed, Jado just followed along and Speke, he just loved the reply, and laughed too.

“The Emperor needs no clothes.” Boet stated, and laughed his ass off.

Redd laughed and said, “People look to see people naked for sure.”

Andy looked at the sun and spoke, “I know my roll. Speaking for me, and I don’t know about you. I want to be put into a human zoo. Be so handy and feed the Andy, give him anything, but don’t give me candy. But I am something good to eat, salty and tender white-meat. I’d make great gator bait, but save my face, and smile for the Crocodile. So keep me alive with brandy, ya ya this Super Poet Andy!”

More cattle began to appear, mayhaps they wanted to hear more Poetry.

Andy rolled on, “My massive Poetry cranium has powers unknown, so you better duck and dip, and shut the lip, and leave me alone. Your evils are no more, so I hope you have enjoyed your journey’s trip.” Andy laughed and said, “Sir Richard Burton, you are a marvel, but like you we have gone native.”

Redd noticed Burton has a bible and a book of Shakespeare in one of his bags.

Burton laughed and asked, “Tell me about some of your boo boos. I take it you pay attention to your passions, but do not worship yourself.”

Andy began to set up the tent, and Boet assisted him.

We are not spies. Redd stated using his intuition.

“You seem to be very open and warm with a terrific sense of humor.” Burton replied, “Wish more shows would show this side of your culture and people rather than focusing on the darker sides of your survival.”

Enhancing our non-concern reputation Sir, Redd replied.

Burton looked at Skeke, and at Scratch.

“So you have detached your self from the World?” Burton asked.

In many ways yes, but not the true realm, of now. Redd replied.

“I get the notion you all are great escapologists.” Burton stated.

One can’t escape the truth Sir, so we are what people call us, the Poetry Train gang. Redd replied.

Burton grunted, and looked satisfied, he seemed to know challenge.

Thank you for seeing something powerful in us, we see the same in you. Redd added.

“Let’s halt here Captain!” Skeke suggested.

“Why not, there are no sultans here to torment us.” Burton replied, “I admire their pursuit. The white man Andy is straight forward. He seems to know rivalry too.”

Skeke looked at Andy, and Andy did a mini boogie dance.

Andy walked up to Redd and whispered, “He maybe the real Tarzan, or one.”

Redd laughed, and spoke, That’s why we are adventurers.

“Andy, I have been to Mecca and back in disguise.” Buston stated, “I learned to master pain.”

“I have been to the heavens, and learned to master forgiveness. Strengthens me to see through the slithering ways of humanity.” Andy replied.

“Like me you are hard to sum up!” Burton replied.

“Access denied.” Andy replied.

Burton laughed finally, but knowing Andy was right about the heart of Africa, and he was right about the beginning of the Nile river.

“Your mother must have taught you the gut you expose.” Burton suggested.

“My mother is that Donkey.” Andy replied and he was about to awake from this dream but did not.

A diary looking book fell out of a bag from Burtons’ Camel, and Burton browsed through it, and placed it deep back into the bag. Sir Richard Burton knew they too were in search of, or knew of many secrets of time, and the realm.

Andy laughed and said, “Burton you are one for and of the giant Owls in the new America, U.S.A.”

“Let’s hide ourselves in plain sight.” Burton said and asked, “Gardening young man, gardening.”

“Burton, come look inside our heads.” Andy said, “Jado, please excuse me, I am dealing with a good wise man, and hard to find. I want you to stay with us here for the rest of the day, you and your moo moo flock. I am sure they don’t mind, since they are the best Poetry audience we have found in a day or so. Please do, it would be an honor to hear you recite your Poetry.”

Burton looked at Speke and said, “This one is growing like a jungle, and we can’t loose them, relax, and set up camp.”

It was the midday sun, and it was midway mid now, furthermore there were no frogs to be squashed.

Andy and Boet were nearly done with the tent, Andy asked, “So where is this burning of metals coming from?”

Redd knelt down to Scratch and looked into his eyes and said, I know, you missed me. Redd looked into Scratches eyes. My bad, I love you. It’s okay we are staying here for a while. Red looked at Jado, Yes, you know what to do. Thank you Jado...

Jado sacrificed a Cow Poetry listener for Scratch to dine on.

“I have rice for everyone.” Speke said. “I will make us some, sweet rice. I have some papwa fruit too. This land here is pretty and rich. I love the valleys watered little brooks.”

Jado skinned another Cow for them too, and started a camp fire.

“These longhorns look better than Delhi Oxen.” Burton proclaimed. “They will make good for our next stride.”

This was making Andy sick.

“God multiplies the cattle, and the Great Royal King.” Jado said, “The King is not a man, I enjoy my security. I know how to avenge myself, and by all means survive. I am a master at distinction, by not reacting, not seeing, and understanding. Meaning to disguise ones thoughts.”

“So how much cloth do you have?” Speke asked. “I would like to buy some.”

All we have is paper. Redd replied.

Burton removed heavy baggage from the Camels, and done them up to a tree, and gave them plenty of water from the brook.

“I am the Chief master cattle thief,” Jado stated, “I shake the house, and this is my fun. Impale me if you dare, because I can never give up carving the cattle.”

“Oh my God I love this man,” Andy said and laughed, “What he is teaching us is how to steal the Poetry audience from the academics and the street, ha ha I love this.”

“I know the meaning of the dream of marriage and of death.” Jado proclaimed.

“This is great Redd, Poets with a fistful of Poetry.” Andy said and laughed, still being naked and all.

Boet was sitting there tripping out taking all of this in, and wishing Andy would put some clothes on.

“I am known as an undisciplinedable warrior.” Jado stated. “This bag right here is filled with my opponents testicles. This iron necklace of bells I was awarded, along with this brass bracelet.” Jado looked at everyone, and proclaimed, “Weapons of firearms tell me men who use them are cowards.”

Andy laughed and said, “Freaking sweet.”

“My mother was Macedonian, and my bloodline goes back to Alexandria.” Jado said. “The Hellenistic times. My name is Jad Odessa. I have a rule, Those who make you shed tears, you make them shed blood.”

Everyone looked at each other.

“We won’t make you cry a Nile River Jado.” Andy stated and laughed.

Jado grinned, and they all felt the cruelty, but hey, Andy thought, Favoritism was cruel in any form.

“I have another bag too, and that bag is of tongues, people who have done me wrong.” Jado stated. He took out a pipe, and marijuana, and said, “Whoever does not smoke with me is a frog.” He handed everyone calabash seeds. “This will help with your hunger,” He said.

Burton and Speke knew they were in a bivouac, hiding in plain sight. Burton looked to where Jados’ spear and shield was as he tilted his head back, and ate some seeds.

Speke took the seeds next and also looked where Jados weapons were. Andy, Boet, and Redd declined the pipe, stating they didn’t want a slip, to feel out of their skins, and Jado respected that, and passed the pipe to Burton who reached out for it when they replied.

Jado knew that they have a dreadful gun close, and probably hidden behind their wind jackets, let alone Burtons’ bayonet and arm coat shield he spoke, “The Rhinoceros make their way through here to the bitter brook to drink and rest. I am hoping the cattle disrupt their path. I do have my spear.” Jado hoped these words triggered their whereabouts of their guns, but it didn’t.

“We will have to hope the cattle work, and all through the night.” Burton replied.

“Yes well, us frogs will ribbit all night to keep those fine ol’ Rhinos away.” Andy said...

Everyone laughed.

Jado sat on his mat, and smoked away.

Andy got some clothes, and went to the brook to bathe, but before that he got out a mirror, and gave it to Redd and said, “Take a look, and pass it around. Take a good look at your beautiful Poem sound.”

The Phantom was there by the brook, and the temperature was slowly to rise, and silently and slowly emotionless killers were approaching. The Phantom was a good Phantom, and told Andy to go back, and stand up for Poetry and racism even more.

Andy took a quick dip, clothed, and went back. “Break out some paper and pens gentlemen. Let’s do something here. This hurts me to bring this up but let’s look at this from another way. We need something to rise tensions. We must present something that makes people rebel in a good way. We want it to be exact. It does not have to be realistic but rendering in a way that is in total symmetry, with, Yes this messy thing called mind death-racism. The spears of racism. I am sick of hearing about, feeling its pierce... For one, racism within each race needs to be put to a holt, first off. If every none racist person got off their asses, and done something about it then they would see the difference. Maybe people like us are out numbered so what, be a racist of a racist, that’s legit. This disease is a disgrace. If nothing is done about it then we are no better, and a lost cause for innocent children. I will smack every one of them in the mouth.”

I hear ya, Redd replied and asked, Why does the story of the Three Little Pigs come to mind, and the book ‘Kings in Exile’ by Charles G. D. Roberts about the giant Wolves in Canada, why?

“Beowulf does to me, great points Redd.” Andy replied. “One, it can be noticed in the eyes, and second, in actions.”

Boet spoke, “Do racist people even realize they are like that, maybe they are, take for instance of insanity. I know I am not a racist, so therefore I am not a racist, but isn’t that being a racist, not admitting it, and then there’s the quick evil kind of people who know it, and that’s what makes it crazy, and they play this sick trick card of this hate, trying to conquer some inbreed human shit, good God I can go on.”

A catch twenty two that can’t be caught. Redd stated.

“I was told long ago crazy people do not look up or down.” Andy, “So insanity and racism are selfishly similar problems gone out of control, and scorn it’s fuel. People are too lazy to study these issues, and solve it. It’s something we need to stop getting used too. And they run that bottle sucker and act like they are grown. And Poet Jesus jack’d that along time ago. God bless burn them tables.” Andy was about to break time codes, but he punched that big titty or titty$... “Bring it on Boet, these are your lands!”

They were all writing with their mouths full, Jado made some nyanya chunga, African egg plant. Writing about heroic acts, and uprising slaves, awakening them. Pilgrims with holy vessels walked by on their way to prayer on a Holy Mountain. The moment got to get bewitching and eerie to Andy and Redd. A man in his basket chair under an umbrella looked at them as they passed by, and no one knew who he was. They all got the feeling their staying here may have been too long. Even though panic was silently striking Boet spoke, “We are not trapped under our skins, and we must never be. Andy gave us the mirror to look at our skeletons, because there are many, many under us and many above us, so we must have faith in these battles.”

Burton felt the oddness too, and finally revealed his gun to check how many bullets he had in them. Jado eyed this very closely. Burton looked at Jado, and said, “Just in case they decide to not keep migrating and not mind their business.”

A large crowd of men on Camels came their way, and Burton knew they were his comrades. This gave them a sense of protection, but not Jado, he knew the more made it more for filling, because evil thinks in numbers. So the camp got larger and night began to fall. The wind picked up too, and the tents shook, and this is what shakes legacies into life.

“I am going to shut my eyes for the night.” Burton said, and he stuck out a bag for everyone to see. “I sleep with a cobra, this is to guarantee I get some rest.” Once his tent opening closed, everyone looked at each of themselves in silence.

Redd, Andy, Scratch and Boet in their tent, they knew these men were on classified missions here in Africa.

Burton is amazing, he coined the word safari, very cool if you ask me. Redd stated.

“Indeed.”

Jado came into their tents, and said. “We are being devoured by the Wabembe. Well, they are here for Burton and his people, but we are here. The only way to convince them you are with the Oci, divine is for us to leave at this moment. This camp is surrounded.”

“God bless, when will we ever get some freaking rest, so we can smoothly create anything to create.” Andy said.

Redd laughed.

“We have to go.” Boet stated, “The Wabembe are viscous.”

“So what you are saying is, After while, because they are the real human Crocodiles.”

“Yes sir,” Boet replied. “We must go to Tanganyika lake.”

“Ditch the tent.” Jado said, “Walk with me and my cattle, now.”

CLACK CLACK go the war drums, and Noww do doo day, whayyo go the war cries!

“Cool” Andy said and sung the song Din Daa Daa by George Kranz.

As they moved along slowly Jado told some of the Wabembe, his friends were good, and he was a rower, and loyal to the King of Burundi, the great hunter of Zebras.

The hornet like Wabembe surrounded the tents by the hundreds. Thrusting daggers were thrown in the tents from underneath. Burton was surrounded. Speke was shooting his revolver to return the awe to the shake. Confusion, the great tactic used by the raiders was working smoothly. A marksman thrust of a spear found it’s way through Burtons’ mouth, tearing out a few teeth. The expert spear thrower ran away as Burton ran after him with revenge. While the spear was lodged through his face, he spat blood during the chase to no avail. Burton returned to help Speke and his comrades but most were dead.

They gathered their important things and left everything to rot.

As Jado and the Poetry Train crew walked away they heard guns shots. They knew if they stopped, and went back they would be a target. A wind storm came up out of nowhere. The sense came this was the blessings of Cannan or Ham, or was it a curse? Was it an end?

“We have to hurry to Toborah,” Jado commanded. They knew Jado was saving their lives.

Courage and endurance were flowing through their veins in the land of many ways to die.

The Donkey raised hell, making noise, and making it risky.

Andy, yes that’s it, and he thought that we must stop. He stopped and spoke, “Stop the world from mocking Poetry, furthermore counteraction. The world must not look away from the breathes of humanities, the art of Poetry. This is causing the beautiful development of life not to fully bloom. Furthermore coverups, Poets cover up other Poets, so they can be in the limelight. This causes the world to walk backwards, and Politicians notice this, and stole the lingo. Scorn, evil gossip, the respect killer. The case, then we need Poet battles, Poetry soap operas. This would be the new decency. The key though is a non-bias audience, no academic critics or street critics. Poetry will use us in powerful ways. Mutual respect coming up!”

Andy looked back, and in a mirage like air, the Phantom was there looking at them, and turned around and walked in opposite way.

What are you thinking Andy? Redd asked as they walked fast among the long horn cattle.

“We as dinosaurs, we too must dance for our lives, mates, and happiness.” Andy replied, and all that was thought. Andy got on his Donkey, and said, “Jacqueline will awake us when Danger is near!” Andy rode by Jado and gestured to use his horn, and Jado gave it to him.

Redd laughed and replied, Ten hut, song of intuition right?

“Ya Ya.” Andy replied. “The curse of Cannon or Ham was not a curse at all, it was twisted with hate, hater family, hater humanity, hater racism, hater jealousy, and here we are. See the disease, again most have not learned from all the wise and signs, and Poems of all. This world is worth living in, and most of the arts of Poetry.”

“Poetry is to educate and entertain.” Boet replied. “We are okay, and not beaten and flayed to death.”

“We can take a break in our intellectual stance, and drink.” Jado stated.

We are not pillars of salt. Redd declared. Do you have anymore of that rice Jado?

“No.”

“Let it be, right if they chose to be obscured, rather than to be enlightened.” Boet said.

Monks walked by, and did not glance at them. Because they believed they themselves were the champions of learning.

“We are on the path of Poet Ghosts, like via the Milky Way.” Andy said, “We are not like scientists who speak about blood with shaken nerves. We don’t have to, we are not diseased. Although we are a wisdom fetish clan. Ha Ha Ha!. No excuse for me snootiness, but I believe this germ plasma can not be purified, not unless we all do horrific acts as Mark Twain mentioned.”

And the world is da da da da da sleeping badly as we know. Redd stated. Ana ana there’s a more intelligent way.

Jado looked at Redds arms, and face with a curious look. Redd knew this too, it was all the megaplex of complex within a complex megaplex, because with Jado and the people worldwide it was territorial and not a race issue, so he was confused. All of this confusion led them to the end of the Nyungwe Forest, so this meant they were close to the surprising and raw Rwanda.

Boet looked at Jado and said, “Everything that could blossom upon Earth has blossomed, each in its due season and its proper sphere; it has withered away and will blossom again when its time arrives.” Boet laughed and said, “Yes, some Johann Gottfried Herder.”

“All but peace.” Andy stated. “That would illuminate all shades to one great picture. We are all hunters and gatherers, but we need to hunt and gather imperialistic politicians! They are the ones that need to die off like flies killing them with their own myths.”

Darkness came upon them and the land, but wisdom whispered to them as Jado sang pastoral songs.

Sometimes I wonder why we even care, because we don’t suffer this chigger like disease. Redd stated, They will not admit they have a disease. We and all beautiful life are being stolen. We and all beautiful life are being stolen. We and all beautiful life are being stolen. Redd said this over and over again. Andy blew the horn, and they awoke, furthermore they all three awoke in their roomettes.

Awaking was like being hit with tons of cylinder blocks because the world is full of chaos in the news, so Redd turned it off, as everyone got ready for the day. The modern world seemed to have put any signs of cosmic societies into extinction, dissolving everything in it’s path, and Redd and Andy had been knowing this for years, and every day the realization of this was evident, but they were cultured men that knew the witchcraft was upon the world. They had to stay alert, tough and sustain the arts of Poetry and the historical realm of the Railroads.

Mathias mapped out their day to go to the oldest book store, the Librairie St Paul, or the French cultural center, and the new place Lire Africa in Gallerie Alexander, furthermore the Café literaire Samandari at the Burundi Palace.

They awoke aiming to start a fire. First of confronting Poets who made Poem videos and did not join the others on the Train. Poets wonder why People say Poetry is boring. Or they thought to let them deteriorate in the own megalomania digital e-can. Because they the Poetry Train crew only knew the gaps in between the walls of forever, so they decided to keep their cool for awhile. Impose soon enough, judge soon enough, and still listen with interest the words of all. Maybe this matter was like Greek language to Poets, and speaking of Greek Boet told them of a Greek deli in Bujumbura, the capital of Burundi, and it had fine wine. The Greeks and Macedonians have been there since Alexandria and its expansion.

“What’s on the agenda today?” Boet asked.

Me and Andy have been thinking to study the films of the past that has dealt with racial issues because its one way to tackle it, then maybe one day courtroom repair. Redd stated.

“Boet it’s all the Twentieth Centuries and the last two decades unfinished business.” Andy declared.

Mathias looked at Boet and smiled.

Andy looked at the days plans, shakes his head and says, “Trump and his gang are reapealing net neutrality, Alexandria is being burned again.But I have idea, a great idea for a tattoo too, a large iron P hot branded on the chest of me. P for Poet, P for Promoter.”

Redd laughed and spoke, Dining car bound fellas.

In the dining car Andy looked up Riki Chen and his Poetry & Art and was wondering if it was safe, stolen or trashed. Before Riki passed away he asked everyone, ‘There can really be no price on art. How much is life worth to you? Is it ever real? Can you tell the difference? Do you care?’ Andy then remembered a Poet on the Train called Riki a loud mouth. A Poet that likes to point fingers and not listen, but hey, God allows this, and Andy laughed.

Redd looked at an assignment The End of the Humanities? By Martha Nussbaum.

Andy wasn’t laughing long when he read a letter from Mr. Welchberry, Andy spoke, “Who is the Poet, lawyer, journalist David Orr? Who knows him? Anyone who does, ask him to battle me in Poetry, and let the audience know, they can challenge, but my first thing is I want him to know, I’d like to take him to a Children’s intensive care unit, and show him Poems in incubator mode... I am so sick of this plastic academic people brain washing people with their bullshit and platforms...”

What’s up? Redd asked.

“He wants honesty from people to talk about the actual experience of reading a Poem.” Andy replied.

David Orr doesn’t know us does he. Redd replied.

“Exactly.” Andy replied. “Has anyone seen the movies ‘Contact’ or ‘Independence Day’ so that’s when I guess to say the day Aliens aka extraterrestrials come than this will awake the humans into caring for one another. Probably not, most will have a hidden agenda to have sex with them and see what cosmic drugs they have. International security my ass. Don’t tell me it’s just movies, again what, and who stole the Poets crown. Ya ya whatever.”

“Play these films all week or what?” Boet asked.

Yes, Redd replied. In the mean time I will locate Martha Nussbaum.

“Then we will be done with trying to be international Doctors.” Andy said.

“You two do not have cold feet.” Boet proclaimed.

Redd looked at Andy, and spoke, I think I can speak for the both of us. Unlike the Leopard who made a wrong turn, froze and died upon the Masai “Ngaje Ngai,” of the Kilimanjaro. Longitude is not altitude, so we don’t seek that altitude.

“Many things people created are mind blinding, stealing the peoples ability to picture things in their minds, visual imagery, audio imagery, introspection.” Andy stated. “Many things that cause fear, fears, phobias. Furthermore as I mentioned before, sometimes people do not realize what harm they cause when they speak, or write something online. The word and meaning of the word We for example, and Us and them too. Even the inability to visualize might anchor people in the present and allow them to live more fully in the moment, but what is that, stuck like Chuck in the now truck? How boring. How does that solve anything but History repeat in full speed? Most people are afraid to build upon their minds’ library perhaps. Hear how I used the word most!”

“You are getting to the source Andy.” Boet said.

“Maybe, but I feel the source has come to me, us.” Andy replied. “Look at foreign U.S.A. flag burning, by that, they fear and hate all U.S.A. Citizens, that’s not good. Do they have the sense that many in the U.S.A. Are good people? Vise the versa.”

“Wow!” Boet expressed.

Redd spoke on this, And that’s why language arts are important and who’s jacking who? What art of listening?

“Hopefully the poor, and step up to the rich with this Net Neutrality issue in the states, because there equal access to online information is once again under serious threat.” Andy said, “We need to encourage internet commenters to voice their displeasure to the FCC. It’s just going to get worse, and poor Poets too will get the hit. Can we go back to sleep?”

Ha ha ha right, Redd replied.

“How come Poetry Publishers and Poets and their readers never take in account or thought or even think the Books of Poetry available since 1776 were not high grade stuff like the comic book industry has with their stories and art?” Boet asked.

Andy laughed and said, “Love it, there’s a song called ‘When You Are Hot You’re Hot’ by Jerry Reed, and no Poets like it when a Poet is in that spot, and currently they all cherish Billy Collins tactics.” Andy laughed again. “It takes a hard hitting new comer to invest in the past, the now and the future, and present it all in a different way, like drummer John Dolmayan, so a Poetry lover aka reader will have to come along and do it.”

Rarity is key word. Redd added, Don’t forget the Poet memoir also along with the book, keep your life a mystery for real, in today’s world. Keep an online balance. There is no Poetry Book grading bible. Redd laughed.

“All of this has to be talked about for the Poetry Train Africa anthology.” Mathias said.

“Boet we can’t reveal everything.” Andy said, “Take in account WordSlingers’ interrogation book ‘Starkill’, it’s not an interview about him, and then you see others using that and not acknowledging his genius on that or his art of his duel with Trump in a poem in ‘Loulias’ Bunker’, and now many want to duel with him. He sees the future, listening and watching. People cry unity in Poetry, but all you see are Masters of Division. Clean innocence murder is what it can be called.”

Mathias was studying the Margot Kahn article on ‘How and Why to Edit an Anthology: Addressing the Naysayers’ on janefriedman.com. Andy sent him Ozzy and Sharon Osbourne’s wisdom why and how they started Ozzfest, and that was to get unknown musical performance groups a public fair chance, because muscle companies were not, and to gander what muscle really was in the literary world. Andy and Redd knew if a website could safeguard a Poets work and Life as international banking was doing, and having hard times with the new chip, then many unknown Poets with fears of online worlds would emerge blowing the windows out of minds, but that’s not going to happen in the present day. Until the Library of Congress hires a team, and with all Poets creating the Poet Igloo will remain the same.

The Frank Norris Octopus still remains, and Jimmy New Orleans is in the Whitehouse messing with the Presidents mind and spirit with Television and Media, furthermore the internet.

Andy I think we should stick to our reasons, and not let the world get to us. Redd said.

“Yes, we can’t lose our own respect, for the respectless.” Andy replied.

“Ya, forget the narrow-minded and ungenerous.” Boet stated, ’Let them be like these bad guys in the movie Ghost.”

Everyone laughed.

“You love your country I can tell, and Poets there, I can tell.” Boet said. “You two are world citizens, and get a grasp on the big. I love my country too.”

The journey was amazing there Boet. Redd replied.

“I love you two.” Boet declared.

Andy looked at Redd, and they replied with a smile, and said in sync, “Thanks Boet, love and respect to you too.”

They all looked out the window, and saw many long horn cattle grazing.

“Speaking of bad guys, we have company.” Mathias said because he was looking out the other side windows of the train.

The police and the SNR, the National Intelligence Service agents were racing along side the train, and the train was slowing down quick.

“Here we go again.” Boet stated.

The train stopped, they boarded, and looked through their phones, and laptops.

“We are looking for pictures,” An agent said. “We can take you four to be tortured, and we have room in a mass grave for your dead bodies, so it’s best if you are honest with us now.”

“What happened to this country?” Boet asked. “It used to be safer than in many Western countries. I am not going to be silent, because we have done nothing wrong.” Boet noticed roadblocks being set up outside the train. “Why don’t you deeply explore yourself. Strip yourself naked and force yourself to look at your wounds, your vulnerabilities, the areas that you are uncomfortable looking at. Let it stretch you to the limit, break you open, and thus take yourself to the center of yourself.” You cannot, can you, because that’s what Poetry does if you are not honest, truthful. We are like all literature, but you fail to see the beauty of Poetry is that it’s also a safe place, and that’s what we are about nothing else. So you should understand all of that or at least try to. The world is watching you.” They were live via Youtube.

Mathias was getting nervous thinking. Please don’t say, Ketty Nivyabandi.

Redd and Andy could not help sensing why he should not. She was in Canada and not here, and Canada was the best place for her to be.

“You follow your dictator, and let us follow Poetry.” Boet said. “Both are dangerous, but yours is deadly.”

Andy spoke, “We are into Poetry and Railroad history, and that causes happiness and stability. Now you may not know this, but movies have conflict after conflict, and I bet you love movies, so I want you to think about something. Movies may cause bi-polar syndrome if there is such a thing, many say there is, so movies like politics, religion, and bad-science may cause all the worlds bullshit, conflict after conflict, so think about that, okay, and in the mean time, just escort us to Rwanda, simple. Let us go in peace. We have done nothing but ride through, and look out these windows here.”

Yes, please take us to the point of no return. Red stated. It’s okay to feel sad or angry. It’s like if you’re reading to your child about the death of your pet, you can leave out any parts you feel are inappropriate. We don’t but you can.

“Why do you say that?” The Agent asked.

This moment is being killed by someone’s BS because you have a job to do, and so do we, but it’s more like saving lives. Redd replied. We are not interfering with your life.

Andy started jumping up and down saying, “Marvelous, marvelous. I am understanding you. Look at us like we are Rain Men, and I love it. Ha ha ha ha!”

Boet laughed.

“We know about the Kagera Basin Organization and their proposed system never came to fruition.” Andy stated, “So why is that?”

“Apathy.” The Agent replied.

“So are you not tired of lack of political will and sour relations among member countries?” Andy asked.

Every agent looked at one another recalling the 1994 Rwanda genocide in Kigali.

“Let us not interfere with your goals.” The Agent replied, and they all walked off the train.

Thank you for your essence. Redd said.

Mathias spoke, “The DIKKM railway would be built in line with East African Community and African Union policies, but until then we have to go back to Tanzania then to Rwanda.”

Boet you should not sit with your knees in your chin. Redd said, You are in a group, and we give you a lot of leg room. I will go get us some waters. Your birthday is tomorrow so we need you happy.

Boet laughed, but then went into tears because of what was happening in Burundi. “Can we look for Poet Demu Munga, and at least buy him lunch?”

Everyone looked at each other.

“How about a late night gathering with him and others?” Mathias asked.

The true date of United States Unity was September 12th, 2001. Redd said.

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10. CHAPTER 10 The Blessings of Skin, Steel, and the Dangerous Donkey of Crania Poetico Blowing the Horn of Omega Poetry to Cows Burundi 3rd of December 2017
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