CHAPTER 11 The Poet Dog Army Fighting Above & Below The Poetry Shun Cemetery / Impakanizi z'Umwami Rwanda 2nd of January 2018
After Andy blew the horn, he got down from riding his donkey, he, Redd, Scratch, Boet, and Jado with his herd of weary cattle, made their way safe into the green wooded hills of Rwanda:
Andy spoke, “We are not going to live and die in non-believers perceptions of us. Competition, haters, fake people this and that, because gentlemen we have come along way, and we are not held hostage or going to be, by any past or current state of minds. Yes, and bit-bit-a, we all are our own worst enemy sometimes, but with this, so open wide. Put it this way, when some one shuns a Poet, they shun you. When someone interrupts their creativity, they do it to you, and same vice to the verse. While I am alive this clawing will stop! Scratch here got that for us. What in the great texts are taught about respect? To set examples? With integrity and courage? Seek the good for many?
“We have the Poet Igloo.” Boet proclaimed.
Jado spoke, “To place a great value on yourself, your poetry, and others work.”
“So we respect the Kings to a certain degree, but fear them not.” Boet added.
Redd laughed, “The Kings in the U.S.A. Do not respect Poets and Poetry that’s for sure, and you would think this would set off spiritual alarms.” Redd laughed again, “Sound the horn again Andy!”
Andy laughed, “Sure in our Poetry Train customary manner, Ha Ha!. Sorry I have to laugh at stupid. Horn sound coming up, so we can get to the core!”
The core. Redd said tilting his head.
“The core.” Boet said.
“More, more to the core,” Jado added.
“See this is fun, this is what we were born to do.” Andy said, and laughed. “It’s so funny in how dummies try to dummy all of this down, so funny, but excuse we, we learn from history and Poetry.”
Boet laughed. “It’s a new year too, and like we will see what’s so happy and tough about it, because we know what was so happy and tough was about last year, and who the jumpers were, whatever.”
You see Jado, we don’t like it when our real Poet friends are in dark places, oh no, and we will do something about it in our life times, and it’s not like we have not already. Redd declared.
“We will go see my Poet friend Sekarama, and check on him, and rest.” Jado said. “He is a reservoir of Poetry and wisdom. He is a dynasty Poet here in Rwanda.”
Cool, we will gloss up. Redd stated, and everyone laughed.
“Wo, wo Jackie Donkey wo,” Andy ordered the Donkey because a blind girl came upon their path.
She was full of spunk, and asked us, “Do you wear sheepskins? Are you assassins? Are you here to take the Kings’ necklace? Are you here to teach us writing? Are you here to know Commanderess ‘Queen Mother’ Nyirarumaga Nyiraruganzu and Nyirankuge’s work? To help me with preservation from generation to generation?”
They all looked at Jado.
“I smell Cattle,” The little girl said and asked, “Are you here to find the exit of the Umwoobo w’Inyaga tunnel, where the mystical animal named z‘Inyaga dwells?”
Andy smiled and replied, “You are special like we are, and we love this. No sheepskins little one, and we are not wolves.”
Scratch sniffs the little girl.
“We are not assassins, and not here for the Kings’ necklace.” Jado replied. “ I’m Jado, and they are here to help promote, and safeguard Poetry.”
“Did you bring the cattle for our King? The little girl asked.
“That is possible, but I know the customs, but we are here to visit my Poet friend Sekarama.” Jado replied.
“My name is Ziza, Okay, tell them soil, you are looking for a new soil to augment the Kingdoms’ Wisdom. King Rwabugili is a magician, and his Mutwa is always with him, he’s a faithful pygmy. His dogs and monkeys are always with him too. They have the fires from all regions of volcanoes. Beware, they will think your friends are on a military campaign, a small band of killers. Let me feel your hair Jado.”
Jado smiled, “Sure, Ziza.”
Feeling Jados’ hair, she touched his face, and felt for his nose too. “You need to let me cut your hair.” Ziza said, and laughed. “You want to look like a warrior here, to blend in.”
“Very funny Ziza, but we like to take our chances.” Jado replied. “Short here and there, long on top, and long on both sides right?”
Ziza laughed, “Yes, that maybe be funny but what is not funny is if you don’t. Don’t say I did not warn you. Follow me to the cemetery. We must hurry we are not sure who is exterminating who anymore. Hutus, Tutsis. The mind pollutes with power and perks, so we have to figure out something Solomon like, but no one knows what works.”
Andy looked at everyone, laughed and said, “Just like my blind mother, she knows her home, same as living outside and all.”
Everyone looked at Andy, and he winked.
“The heart is tricky when using the art of forgetting and remembering.” Ziza said, “Shame, sorrow, anger, vain death, and name death, so that’s why you are here I feel. Overlords are everywhere shunning Poets and Poetry. I know Andy is not a colonizer. We have to hurry before the sun slips away. See that volcano that is where the Gorillas are. Donkey come, Cattle come.”
Andy smiled at Redd.
“Jado sing me a Kwidoga, a farmer song, and a Kwitonga, a traveler song.” Ziza asked as she led the way the cemetery. “z’Inyaga can hear us below. You others will need a haircut too.”
Redd whispered to Jado, What is a z’Inyaga?
“A shaman shape-shifter.” Jado replied. “Ziza, at this moment I am worried about our safety.”
“Ziza, the cattle right?” Andy asked.
“Andy I can tell you are going to be a sore on my tallow.” Ziza proclaimed, and looked at Jado and did not say anything.
“Even if a log lies in a river for a hundred years, it doesn’t become a crocodile.” Andy replied.
“All crocodiles and logs return to the earth Andy.” Ziza replied. “z’Inyaga will show you down below.” Ziza stopped, turned around, and looked at them and said, “As she has been, the Donkey will protect the crop from the Cattle. Keeping the conflict from sprawling, and Jado I know you did not know that.”
“We all have to eat don’t we?” Jado asked.
“We, no. All yes, and none has to murder to eat.” Ziza replied. “What do you think fuels that inferno?”
A water well was ahead of them and nothing else. Andy looked at the Gorilla Mountains and said. “Murder in any form is a scandal and it does not kill the population, because a majority, ironically, a murder scandal sustains the population.”
Stopped at the well, Ziza look at everyone, and said, “Andy found the political head of death that jerks a foot to kick at life. Down the well there is a passage, and the winds here of silence and shame will not be felt down below. I will ride on one of your backs down these ropes.”
They all look around amazed, and at the Cattle, Donkey and Scratch.
How is Scratch going to get down? Redd asked.
“Pretend the world is on fire, and figure it out.” Ziza replied.
“Ewww.” Andy replied. “A wishing well.”
“Down here you won’t have an under siege feeling.” Ziza said, “z‘Inyaga will look to see if you forget you are the enemy.”
What? Redd replied.
“To test you.” Ziza said, “It is hard to try to destroy the enemies of death.”
Zado led the way, and Ziza rode on Jados’ back down the well, and she spoke, “No matter where we all go some see altogether different, but down here, we all see the same, dirt. It’s hard to convince people we are not enemies, and a solution is real.”
Ziza looked up and said, “Your concern has brought you all here. Swing me to the opening Jado.”
As Ziza climbed in the tunnel, she said, “I love the echoes down here.”
Jado looked up, and Andy said, “People love conflict, and conflict echoes too, okay I ’am next. Redd put Scratch around my neck. I can do this. Jado be ready to grab Scratch.”
“I ’am ready Andy, and Ziza, I have faith in the Donkey no one will steal my Cattle.” Jado replied.
Wait how are we getting out, this same way back? Redd asked.
“Great.” Jado replied.
Redd, and Boet followed them down the well.
“Everyone alright?” Andy asked.
Yeah, yeah they all replied.
Ziza laughed, and said, “Roots from the nature above is everywhere down here so watch your eyes, and when night comes Imana the creator of the world sleeps in here. Imana knows I ’am helping you, and you all are helping Poets and their Poetry.”
Jackie the Donkey hee’d and haw’d. Golden Blue Monkees appeared above on the ledge of the well.
Boet smiled, laughed, and said, “Redd come here, look.” Boet pointed up, “You need a beard like that.”
So we are down here away from human misconduct? Redd asked and laughed.
“Yes, you are learning,” Ziza replied. “We know you all made an oath along time ago, and that is the path to immortality, so follow me, and be silent.”
Scratch will follow you Ziza, Redd declared. Wait I will, because the tunnel looks unstable. You are not leading us into temptation are you?
“We are under the bamboo forest.” Ziza laughed and proclaimed. “Keep the morale, and hope it does not rain. Do not look back.”
Redd laughed and said, Oh so now you tell us.
“If it does rain melodically, the Water Buffalo may chase off the Cattle and Donkey.” Ziza proclaimed.
Jado laughed and said, “Oh so now you tell us.”
“Boet this reminds me and Redd of the Poet Igloo in Canada.” Andy said.
Yeah yeah. Redd replied. Thanks, and I think my knees were going to remind me.
The air was getting hot, and a distant thunder and rumbling could be heard as they entered downward into a lit tunnel, it got a bit brighter.
A mother Gorilla was laying on her back and her baby sitting on her stomach. Mother was yawning, stretching, and looking back at us.
“Okay great.” Ziza said, “The other baby is somewhere. There are twins, the newest to their family. No worries they have no issues.”
“Fuxxing fuxxing I hope so, they’d break us.” Boet said.
“They are smarter than we are, look at them look at us, this is in their eyes, and I can see their souls.” Andy stated. “Hey don’t give them a mirror but then again they live on this planet too, so why not.”
“Right.” Boet replied.
Beautiful, orange and red eyes. Redd said.
“Shall you get nervous, soil, as I said, sniff the soil, look for new soil.” Ziza said.
“Memory pictures y’all.” Andy said. “Look everyone, these tunnels are like a railroad break of gauges. Where else do they go Ziza?”
“Burundi, Congo, Kenya, and Uganda.” Ziza replied. “If you find a clay cow, it was mine. I left it down here. These are the tunnels King Rwabugili made for the Gorillas, this is why they are not known.”
“Listen, I hear it, come on people check out the sound.” Andy said, and he stopped to smell the soil. It reminded him of when he was a boy playing in the dirt while his Grandfather fished.
Ha ha we are going to get killed. Redd said.
Andy laughed and said, “This is so cool, this is the opposite of cannibalism.”
“Ziza this is a place like in Tennessee where the cliffs are to the lake, but these tunnels are above the lava rivers, wow, and it’s not that hot, thanks.” Andy said. “Ha ha Faith!”
“Ha ha I got a log line.” Boet stated.
Ha ha everyone laughed.
“You have my permission to look back.” Ziza said.
“Alright now be quite.” Ziza said, and laughed.
“Who’s working their way back to you babe?” Andy said... “Classic! Holly molly this dirt smells like big dino whino four. Ha ha love it, it’s when in pindiania. Just kidding.”
Andy, I know you are not joking, so sing that Slayer song, ’Seasons In The Abyss.” for us ha ha down here, ha ha you have to, but look, meta meta. Redd said. This, is amazing, oh ya we have to hush.
Ziza gathered petrified wood.
“Ha ha image that, and put another log on the fire, hush.” Andy said.
“Andy.” Ziza said.
“Word, we are getting close, then we are going to call you.” Andy replied.
Andy picture in frames. Redd said.
“Living in the limelight like a rush.” Andy replied.
“Our Cattle has bells.” Jado proclaimed. “The answer was always right under the nose, and the wind above us sure is changing. Fire boat.”
“Can I sing that burning ring of fire song but I don’t have any Johnny Cash?” Boet asked.
Everyone laughed, but not Boet. He sensed something new, that Andy and Redd knew something, and none of them did not.
“Sure.” Ziza replied as she made a raft, a fire proof raft. “We only have to cross a little distance to there,” As she pointed, “We must paddle fast.”
“Are you the Grim Reaper in a different form?” Andy asked.
“Right!” Redd and Boet said in sync.
Everyone looked at each other and knew this was not good, but one must have faith. As they crossed the lava into a opening of a cavern, bat flocks flew out as they entered. Once inside the beauty of this cave opened their hearts, and it also gave them the notion of a short call, so they all got off of the raft. A sizzling sound caught their attention, and they all turned around to see the raft become nothing but black lava, and they looked at each other, and Ziza. She laughed, and said, “You all are good listeners, that’s why you are standing.”
Ziza raised her arms, and murmured a dead language. Everyone looked at her in awe, she was doing something with the nature of the place because it began to rain inside. Ziza laid down, and she went to sleep. The grunting of an animal came from behind them, and they turned around and it was a beast crossed of a Hyena and Panther. It began to shriek in high pitched tones. Behind them now they heard barking, as they turned around a Lion looking Leopard leaped at the dark beast and they began to battle. Ziza sleeping or in a state of magic was being shaken by Jado trying to bring her back but to no avail. Redd, Andy and Boet surrounded Scratch from engaging in the fight.
“This is the Ikimizi and the Kibambangwe, the great mutant beasts. ” Jadi said. “I ’am going to have to carry Ziza.”
As they walked fast away into a corridor they knew nothing about, the ground began to rumble. “Something above on land is moving.” Jado said. “Maybe a lake, or a land slide.”
“Let’s hope it’s not the Water Buffalo.” Boet said.
“Right.” Redd said, and he felt Andy was not walking fast but behind them. Redd looked back, and Andy was standing there observing the beasts in battle. In a what the heck recovery mode Redd ran back and said, What are you doing?
Andy laughed and replied. “Look we are never going to see things like this again, and remember this because no one is ever going to believe it. Remember King Kong versus Godzilla?”
The clay cow got demolished by a body blow to the ground from Ikimizi, who was gnarling at Kibambangwes’ chest while on top of him.
Scratch walked in front of Andy and Redd with his fur standing up. Kibambangwe the half Hyena and half Panther was not ready to take it, so Kibambangwe jump twisted into the air, and bit down tightly with its jaws on Ikimizi the half Lion and half Leopards’ throat.
Redd grabbed the chain from around his waist, and threw it to Andy while taking hold of Scratch. The ground shook more as Andy restrained Scratch.
Let’s go Andy. Redd said in a lightning fashion, and ran away with Scratch.
“Damn.” Andy said to himself, “If they’d quit, and be gentle, and come with us.” Andy laughed and said, “Oh ya shall I, ha ha.” Andy ran behind as the ground shook, and the shaking did not stop the throw down behind them.
“The Sun is going down above.” Boet said, “And darkness has a sound once you listen. One notices things like this running for ones life.” Boet stopped, and so did everyone else. He took a deep breath, and said we must be at the core, where no matter who we are, we are running for no reason, and from ourselves. I have to take a break.”
Jado laid Ziza on the ground.
Boet looked at her and said, “Remember what she said, “z’Inyaga sleeps down here, and he will show us down below. I think what she meant was we are safe down here. Those animals were cross breeds, rejects, not monsters. Think about something here, some kind of ignition of intelligence, and nature made this happen regardless of what the original beasts were, so in other words, they have parents. They are down here because they know they are misfits. Even misfits need their space, and respect.”
A dog barked from somewhere. Andy turned around, and felt they were not alone anymore. The dog was not alone. “We have company.” Andy said.
Why do I get the feeling this is going to get interesting? Redd stated.
Jado got up, and inhaled some air, and said. “She is out, not dead, but out.”
African painted Dogs came, the Sheon pack belonging to the warrior King Rwabugili, and behind them were his Warriors, Colobus Monkeys, and Bili Apes, aka large Chimpanzees.
Scratch got up on all fours, and looked at Redd with a glance that Scratch knew what kind of creatures they were, and he knew they were trapped, and they may charge at any moment because they were all in attack positions. Everyone noticed this body language. Squealing Chimps moved in closer, and bells could be heard. The Poetry Train crew grouped together in a defensive strategy looking in all directions, and prepared for the worst, like Impalas, they created a flight zone, but with no where to fly to.
Fearless King Rwabugili began to speak, and only Jado could understand, and it shown clearly the King had the upper hand. The King was seven foot five tall, wore all white, and with a white beaded headdress. His warriors were dressed in a similar fashion, but with red painted faces.
After Jado listened to the King he was relieved. The King wanted to show them the beautiful land above. Andy was in wonderland looking at the animals. Redd was easing Scratch and Boet was in awe.
Andy started sniffing the soil. “We are here for some soil, to stop, and smell the soil, furthermore to augment your Kingdoms’ Wisdom to the world.” Andy remembered, and told the King. “King, I love your dogs and monkeys.” Andy stated, and Andy sensed he should show agility for some reason, even though they did not stand a chance in this weakened state. Andy looked the King in the eyes, and introduced everyone to him. “King, if I was cool and royal and all, I would have Rhinos for pets.”
Jado laughed, and interpreted all that was said. King Rwabugili laughed in return. Jado took a glance to see how Ziza was doing and now there was a dark Leopard like cat lying down in her place, astonishing him, but he did not say anything because of the royal presence, but not only that, the presence of z’Inyaga.
King Rwabugilis’ men came with a carrying basket, so the King sat in it, and his men pallbearers carried him. He smiled, motioned for them to follow them out.
Redd looked at the crew and said, Maybe we will see the Poet Sekarama now.
Jado spoke to the King, “I have brought you Cattle.” He looked back at Ziza, and she was there and not a Leopard anymore, and so now he wished to tell them. “You all are not going to believe this, come here, look at her.”
It rained, and you can hear a stampede of Water Buffalo above.
Okay you seem sincere, so I think we need to go now. Redd stated. Where does he want to take us?
“To his palace to meet the Poets, Bagorozi, Nzabonariba, Mbaraga, Karorero, Munyanganzo, Ngurusu, Segacece, Masozera, Gahurire, Matari, Sekarama, Rukungu, Mutsinzi, Bikwakwanya, Karimunda, Nyakayonga, Singayimbuga, Muganza, Ringuyeneza, Bamenya, and Musare.” Jado replied.
Andy picked up the Kings’ necklace.
“It’s time to get a hair cut.” Mathias said, “Wake up it’s time to get a hair cut.”
They got ready for the day, and their hunger about to be conquered.
“Okay, I have a logline..” Andy replied stretching, “We have more egg shells, and egg shell cracking- or is the secret from swollen Poets?”
Mathias laughed, and said, “You are mercurial Andy for sure.”
I feel a séance coming up. Redd stated. Wow, that was a great dream.
“It’s to early for all that.” Andy replied. “But unlike others driven by devils, I prefer to say we are driven by angels. I do have to admit my street football driving the ball mentality gets a bit strong to others, ha ha.”
“Did everyone think you were a Kangaroo?” Boet asked.
“Yes a fearless one, one with a catheter sticking out of my stomach into a piss-bag.” Andy replied. “They never knew, if they hit, or tackled me the right way, blow me in the stomach I could die. Yes I never did say what happened to me when I was twelve, and I won’t but this, I looked for a reason as to why I am alive, and it was Poetry, yes Poetry was my call in life, a dream that never has died, in the middle of a humdrum life. By the way my mother did approve of all of this. Ha ha.”
Okay looking at the list here, we have London born Poet adventure Kenneth Gandar Dower. Redd said. It looks like his Poetry is in the book he wrote, ‘Amateur Adventure, 1934’. He loved to fly planes.
“Cool, unlike others, say Greyhounds, we are like Cheetahs, we are not dumbfounded by rags on a stick.” Boet said, and laughed. “This Gandar-Dower imported Cheetahs to London, and ran them at the Greyhound tracks.”
“Ya ya, Poetry is intellectual fleshy meat.” Andy replied.
“Like all of them, I guess we all feel like family life is boring?” Mathias said.
Yeah, yeah when all they do, is shun. Redd replied. Poetry is intellectual fruits and vegetables.
“What else do we have Boet?” Andy asked as he tapped his Papermate flair pen on the table like an African warrior drumming the ground with his spear. “I ’am watching these old safari films, and it just amazes me in how much money is, and was spent on killing animals fifty to a hundred years ago, and even today. I feel these people are not at all full blown mature, loving, and have a complete human mind. What I am feeling in witnessing these evil doings are not from my or any ones soul here but them, these killers. What we do with our lives in Poetry and Poet promotion is our soul, and this crap reveals theirs, and to see this Teddy Roosevelt safari with an American flag just blows my mind. Money and power. Gentlemen I hate pointing fingers but sometime in the distant future people are going to look at our time and say, Why didn’t they kick their asses, and so what about law men, even they are corporate to this bad stuff. Feed the birds, feed the pretty Birds, feed the Monkeys, feed the adorable Monkeys, seriously, insanity is alive and well, and justified being what, religious, political; survival. Pet the baby Squirrel, take a picture of the baby Squirrel. I bet these animals are like look, we just want the food, God has a place for you sperm-modic jokes with evil life potency’s. I do have Poet binoculars you fools. And don’t talk shit about what’s in my belly, because I’ll turn your mind into jelly!”
“I have Poet Alexis Kagame to browse Andy.” Boet replied, and laughed.
I pulled up The Immortality of Animals by Elijah D. Buckner. Redd replied.
“Thank you gentlemen again we are wide awake.” Andy replied.
“Data is showing another jumper, dang that gravel must taste good.” Mathias added.
Guess so. Redd replied. Poetry Train is Poet witness Rollgram. A reader sting since day one, the 7th of January 2010. Let’s hope they land in the grass, and not the gravel.
“It’s been a long time since I knew what about Boet, but my art of listening for lyrics recalls pertaining to this subject, a song called Territoial Pissings, can’t remember though who sings it, but pull it up, and listen to it. Tell me what you think.” Andy asked.
“Dang Andy that’s pretty keen, and how long has it been?” Boet asked. “By Nirvana by the way.”
Redd laughed, and said, Why does the FFC come to mind, can we piss flyers, and send them on to them, because Poetry can be spread then sprung? I think I learned that from the history of Jesse James and such. Ha ha...
Andy laughed and said, “You can’t rescue chickens from a chicken farm.”
Let me play a song now while we study. Redd stated. WASP’s ‘the manimal.’ Why because racism is a killer clown in the art of soul murder, and I know we agreed to leave it be, but all would make love or lust with any one if they had the chance, so keep the focus. Ha ha, so we have a rearing issue.
Boet laughed and said, “I like doing this, it’s an intellectual fireworks show, and we see duds too.”
To the core. Redd stated.
To the core, to the core, to the core. They all replied.
You are funny Boet.
Andy I am glad you figured out there is no favoritism in Poetry. Redd said. You leveled the playing field by saying this and your spirit was keen by listening to your intuition on that.
“Ya, ya.” Andy replied.
“Bara the word Bara, mankind and all animals were declared good in Gods’ eyes so why is the word ‘were’ beautiful, is in the scripture is odd, maybe because a majority of mankind is and has failed the test, because they preyed upon, instead of praying up-down.” Mathias said.
The happily earthly family did not listen to art God created. Redd replied. Bara, bare with me, it takes two to tangle. Some things like blood is very nasty, and these so called control freaks, better get out of our way, ha ha Steam train, and they don’t have a word on us.
Andy was checking data with Axel F.
Redd noticed Andys’ blues were going away, so he nudged Boet, and whispered. Look at the man. You’ll never see him like that much, and I mean much. He loves this and never wishes it will end.
“He is always awake isn’t he?” Boet asked
Ask him. Redd replied.
Andy looked at Boet and said, “Bad Science is illogical, as Redd said Boet just ask, and you shall receive.”
“So we are never up against the wind, shall I say, we become the wind, ah yes, I’ll stop right there.” Boet said, and laughed.
“Okay I am looking at all of these animal killer books, and we need these in all Poetry Schools. Why, to dismantle the systems that be!” Andy said, and stood up, and looked around. “Most humans like this are weak, has to be, to be killers. I dare them to fight animals with their bare hands. I’ll show them water. Excuse me evil be. Buck up with me, come on.”
Hey, this is what the Poets say! Redd, said and laughed. Whoom whhomm whoom bhoom bhooom! Yeah yeah, we know we know, they’ll will never get back in the palace, ha ha.
Andy took a little trip up, and down the isle of the dining car train to see who were smiling, but looked back at the crew and said, “The river of fire flows. Monkey do, Monkey see.”
Up and down the dining car Andy asked, “So How Does It Feel To Feel Poetry?”
Andy spoke as he walked, “It’s all sweet because Poetry has this, Knock Knock! SO CHECK!”
Andy made it back from a round, and said, “We are in Rwanda Africa: Ethiopia and if you have a problem with that you can tag this, or hide behind your beany with your bs, because we are the Dog Poets fighting above and below the Poetry Shun Cemetery... Most folk want to skip out when in all reality, there’s no way out. Because in all reality, you have to be true to get in to the palace.”
“Let the Poets abundalty bring Poetry in the moving world brought forth by the creator only Poets know.” Boet declared. “We got that respect definition! I beginning to see that flags can be redundant. Am I living in the year Twenty Fifty?”
“I have an idea.” Andy said, “Maybe we should stop the train, and go fishing at the explosive Kivu lake. This comes to mind again.” Andy laughed. “As I have mentioned many times, when I was nine years, an older stranger walked up to me, and said, “You have it in your eyes, Ashes to Ashes and Dust to Dust, shall there be no bad ass Poets, the world will rust! Oh the ~memory.”
The Poetry Train crew were in confidence, and thirteen of the dining car passengers came up to them, and they were Poets, and the morning became of beauty and light, as they expressed their answer to Andys’ question. “So How Does It Feel To Feel Poetry?”
Poetry is an extremely rare, highly intelligent, bombshell of a romantic lady muse casually strolling along uncharted paths in the recesses of my mind.
If you are talking about the poetic community and how it feels being a part of it, then it feels like a rejoining with long lost friends from many ages, and it feels wonderful to be with the poetry family once more. Sitting in the Universal Library with all poets I feel only love and oneness. I feel more reading poetry, even my own, than I feel while writing, because as I write I really don’t think...I just write. After the draft is down then it is hard work to weave the words that others will feel. Painting, though, is a completely different beast; painting feels like a dam of water is released...such emotions of relief, satisfaction, joy, hope, honor, peace, and accomplishment overcome. I can spend days in an art museum just staring, lost in the art itself.
It feels right.
Enlightenment, that touches your very soul.
Poetry generates sensations and emotions, sometimes pleasurable and at other times torn in a brutal way, but as well as this lady points out, it feels real because those feelings and emotions belong to the real world of the authors. I also agree with the opinion of this gentlemen, and among all emotions stands out love and unity with the authors. There are poems that invite us to think, there are other poems that sadden us, poems that fall in love, there are poems that denounce injustices, there are poems of all colors and there are poems that after reading flood us with positive emotions. WordSlingers’ poetry is avant-garde, innovative and multi-thematic and moves the neurons of the readers, the poetry of Yotanka is symbolic, mystical and works as a balm for the soul, in short... in relation to the author and the composition the poetry makes arise multiple sensations. A Greeting and Happy 2018 for all Authors and for all Readers of Poetry.
I feel poetry as high level of honesty and just description of our life, our deep thoughts and emotions. I love the description by all of you. Love you all
Poetry is the voice that allows us to speak from deep within.
A stirring in the spirit.
Like a blanket.
Without Poetry time would be two-dimensional.
Like a train of inspiration.
“You see you all, these are the types of things that needs to be on billboards instead of Lawyers, Strip Clubs, Automobiles, and Play the Lotto.” Andy replied. “Thank you all, this is why we are here, to make the world a better place, and you all are doing a better job than we are. We are poetrytrain.com.”
“Do you all want to go fishing?” Andy asked. “Poem fishing for Alexis Kagame’s epic poem, ‘The Singer Of The Lord of Creation’. A poem with 35,000 lines divided into 150 Cantos. We have to read this, along with The Immortality of Animals by Elijah D. Buckner before we move onto other studies.”
“We can’t go fishing at the explosive Kivu lake, and study all of this.” Boet said, and laughed.
We have a lot to do today. Redd said, and laughed.
“Okay, then we hold explosive Poetry School here as usual.” Andy said, and looked at the Poet that said, “It feels like a rejoining with long lost friends from many ages.” Lets think about this, just a thought, were we Poets in a Poetry School before this existence here? Because I feel a vital force with all of this. Reading the wisdom of Alexis Kagame shows his faith in unity and perfection of humans and animals, and it is the vital force to secure life to the world. We need this Poem to read.”
The sunlight got brighter in the train, and they were there existing, and fusing wisdom.
“So what you are saying is we all have ancient origins.” Boet replied. “If so a majority are failing the test again, and sucking the earth dry at the expense of everyone. There are two kinds nomadic and sedentary lives, and no one out numbers the other, and we, and we ended up in both, the train, ha ha. I love this stuff.”
I ’am going to post an APB in the Poetry Train Africa group online, and ask them to help find Alexis Kagame’s epic poem, ‘The Singer Of The Lord of Creation’.
“This is fun and hilarious, Confucius say, the greatest is within the smallest, the smallest within the greatest.” Mathias said, “To the core, to the core-”
While they were reading ‘The Immortality of Animals by Elijah D. Buckner’ Andy spoke, “According to this book, and my thoughts, animals will have more grace in heaven than people. Hey maybe that’s why I love animals so much too. I say too, because I admire their beauty in each, and everyone, but by instinct I know they are going to get rewarded with life again.
“This Elijah D. Buckner is a Poet too.” Redd said.
“Ya ya, and I love it.” Andy replied. “Maybe we are bright ornaments of Poetry.” Andy looked out the window.
What are you thinking about Andy? Redd asked.
“All of the life that has passed away, and ours when the time comes, furthermore all of our true family, friends, fans, and animals I have seen in my life time.” Andy replied thinking about things to think about on the things of earth he will miss, furthermore is that there is no separation of things, it just seems like it.
Boet was reading too, and thought Redd and Andy never use injustice to prosper, and he smiled thinking Munia Khan was right, they are a blessing to the world.
They all thought about Elephants.
“I think this is odd, many races believe in the immortality of animals but not in each other, and I ’am not saying everyone, you know how I feel when people use the word we.” Andy stated. “Goofy if you ask me.”
A storm began to form outside. Andy thought about how the corrupted shall perish in due time, but not humanity’s time.
I have been seeing a lot of Poets giving up on Poetry, they are feeling it is pointless. Redd said. What it is they are feeling maybe, is the political black magic of corruption letting the decaying parts of the world get the best of them, and we know that feeling. Redd now looked at the storm. He thought some humans are just as nasty to animals as they are to humans. That Jimmy New Orleans stuff. Redd said, Poets need to rest up, and regain their strength like a Bull. I see a lot of fake ass things online. Don’t you Mathias?
“The storm is coming.” Andy stated, and thought about his dream, and the Donkey. He began to think out loud and spoke, “So the story of Balaam with his Donkey, and all that was happening in the world resonates. So people are afraid of people and from what history has shown, and they have every right to, because not many listen to the spirit of wisdom. Instead they’d rather shun and scorn. To become master back biters!”
“We can’t forget about Elijah and the Ravens, Jonah and the Whale, Daniel and the Lions.” Boet added.
“So maybe corrupted politicians should be Poet slaves?” Andy asked. “Poets have the spirit anyway.”
“Ha ha, that’s hilarious.” Mathias replied. “Then they will listen to Poetry.”
“They can learn to listen, but they don’t have to give up their evil ways, because who are we to judge.” Andy added.
Ew. Redd replied. The U.S.A. does don’t realize they are falling because they did not listen to wisdom in history or cared for who blindly fought for them, plus they have been cursed since 1776. So be it, because I am sick of seeing posts about it, and they not realize they are feeding the fire to the last ash. The teeter needs to totter.
“I find it amazing you all never get insomnia.” Mathias said.
“Are many losing their soul identity?” Boet asked.
Great question. Redd replied. With no understanding, reasoning, imagination, memory, and instinct, furthermore love and sacrifice.
“I ’am wondering if Poets read their Poetry to their pets?” Andy questioned. “I’ll look. I recall our beginnings Redd remember the Poem version, Coleman Barks reading “Love Dogs” a poem by Mevlana Jelal’uddin Rumi.”
Yes Sir, and soul touching. Redd replied. Thanks for the reminder. Dogs give sacrifice more than humans.
“Ya ya try hitchhiking in the U.S.A. In the winter, may as well bury yourself in the snow.” Andy replied.
“This history will show who held Poetry responsibility and who did not.” Boet said.
“If we follow you that means we appreciate you.” Andy states, “ If you don’t follow us that means you do not appreciate us. It’s all good. The mirror is real, and shatterable, bet that... Not just saying, it’s just truth in how shallow megalomania is. I remember roofing in Florida in 2005, and mentioned I like all colors in the crayon box, and left it at that. That night lil’ dude was saying things in disrespect about that like it was a joke, and I left it alone, but in all reality not sorry for your limited trained mind span. Ha Ha... The next day I go to my own material and said, “It’s all good I was trained to fend for myself just like you but the difference between me and you is, I can roof anywhere with any who because I ’am good and cool like that. Roofing school 102 boy. The wind blesses, and been gentle on the grind. Ha Ha !”
“Andy in Elijah D. Buckners’ book, ‘The Immortality of Animals’ it mentions, Poems of mercy towards animals reduces crime, and gets to the roots of cruelty.” Boet stated. “Also as I search mercy Poems, many are from here in Africa.”
Andy looked at Redd.
“I found a heavenly nail, right.” Boet said.
A tear came from Andys’ eye because the words cruelty, crime, poverty, and war were all over the world, and this book was written in 1905 just like American Literature by Alphonso G. Newcomer, and the world may seem better in some aspects but much worse in the words he thought about.
“Andy you have my hearty support, I know what you are thinking.” Boet declared.
“Thank you.” Andy replied. “Some things are spotted to be blotted.”
I find it interesting many people seek mercy from God, but not show mercy towards people or animals. Redd said. I say this because I find no Poems but these only.
“The fight must go on with our Poems, stories, and as Roald Dahl says, ‘We can win with paper and pen.’ Andy said. “We can not take this life and fight for granted. Okay what’s up with these railroads here?”
The Storm is getting closer.
“The Chinese are creating railway and station masterpieces here.” Mathias said. “China said that they do not want to be a super power and they do not want to be the leader in the world. But they are simply demonstrating to the world how a world leader should behave. Chinese know what poverty means to the people due to the China is also a developing country. Chinese want all the people in the world to have a happy life. God bless the world far from the war! The West never gave, and build anything in Africa. All they wanted is to go in and take everything they can take and have stolen for the last one hundred years. Just look at the history. China has a natural bond with Africa and would like to make sustainable friendship with third-world developing countries since Mao’s era. China itself is still a developing country even though China has already achieved a lot in many aspects. Talking about state-of the art science, technology and manufacturing capabilities, nowadays China is not just catching up but also excelling, and taking the lead in some areas. Of course, it took years of efforts, hard work and determination of the Chinese people. China has gradually found ways to solve the issue of poverty, and the very best thing is that after all, the Chinese are very willing to share their experience with other developing countries under brotherhood. This is something you won’t see from the western world. The West only sells their products to African people but China teaches African people how to build your own products. The key difference here is simple: by doing business with the West, Africa will always be dependent to the West while by doing business with China, Africa will one day sell their products to the West and make money from the West and the rest of the world.”
Andy thought of Jung Hem Sing from the America journey.
The U.S.A. is considered a war bomber to the people here, so sad. Redd said.
“What I love about the railway work here is they put emphasis on women working side by side with men.” Boet said, “This will transform the society into treating women as equal to men, and create extensive economic opportunities and social mobility for women. When women are involved with the economic development of the country, you will see great progress and success.”
“Call it a love story.” Andy said. “Ya ya, who’s showing who up? It’s obvious what leaders care about their peoples and who don’t, furthermore the wildlife. So what’s up with createspace.com and amazon.com?”
I think we made the correct choices. Redd stated. Given the net neutrality issues.
“Old school will always rule, let that be oral wisdom!” Andy said. “Also all of this online to distinguish plagiarism from intertextuality, again as we mentioned in the Poet Igloo bill, we need a Shazam like app, to protect Poets, but hey, let it all go in one ear, and out the other, carry on, carry on... And do do, signature, a handwriting analysis can we call in Axel F now, please.
Redd laughed, and said, Let’s invite all of these Poet people to the party, we can play Weezer all day if they like... To the core!
To the core! Everyone replied.
“We are so cool!” Boet replied.
“No play System of a Down, B.Y.O.B. We don’t need more sleep walking.” Andy replied.
“Ha Ha we are the poor fighting the Poetry war, I love it.” Boet said.
“Thank you Poets very much from our hearts and souls for your replies in how does Poetry make you feel?” Andy said.
Redd was looking at all the mental misery on posts by people on Facebook, and thinking do people really think they care, and do they realize the soul mirror, and Redd spoke, It is so easy to have a wonderful beautiful planet and people it is... The answer is learning the brake systems of everything. Maybe we should just walk, and not apply man made JUNK.COM. but what do you know. It does not matter who any one votes for on this planet because they have nowhere to go but here, so bring the theology and reason against Poetry, and see me buck up to you.
“I put the stanzas together from the book ′The Immortality of Animals’ by Elijah D. Buckner.” Andy said. “Listen to it, tell me how it makes you feel?”
The Immortality of Animals by Elijah D. Buckner
See the countless multitude above us,
Claiming sympathy – our humble kin
Sadly have they learned to fear and doubt us,
Driven from our side by human sin;
Yet, though dumb, their hearts to ours are speaking,
Help and kindness from us ever seeking,
Kindness hard to win
Innocent of wrong, our own transgression
Lays on them a heavy load of pain,
Sharing all the misery and oppression
Man has wrought beneath his iron reign,
Touch all hearts, O Thou Divine Compassion,
Till they burn with generous love and passion
To remove the stain
For right is right, since God is God
And right the day must win;
To doubt would be disloyalty,
To falter would be sin
Praise God from whom all blessings flow,
Praise him all creatures here below
He prayeth well, who loveth well
Both man, and bird, and beast
He prayeth best loveth best
All things both great and small;
For the great God who loveth us,
He made and loveth all
Man, beasts, and bird, yes creation all,
No longer curs’d for man’s sad fall
In chorus join’d shall voices raise,
To sing their lov’d Creator’s praise
Among the noblest in the land,
Though he may count himself the least,
That a man I honour and revere
Who, without favor, without fear
In the great city dares to stand
The friend of every friendless beast
Ye, therefore, who love mercy, teach your sons
To love it too. The springtime of our years
In soon dishonoured and defiled in most
By budding ids that ask a prudest hand
To check them, but, alas! None sooner shoots
If unrestrained, into luxuriant growth
Than cruelty, most devilish of them all
Pity the sorrows of a poor old dog
Who wags his tail a-begging in his need;
Despise not even the sorrows of a frog,
God’s creatures too, and that’s enough to plead;
Spare puss, who trusts us, purring on our hearth;
Spare bunny, once so frisky and so free
Spare all the harmless tenants of the earth;
Spare and he be spared-or who shall plead for thee?
We may enjoy in realms above
The blessings of eternal love;
When man released from pain and care,
With bird and beast shall heaven share?
I think people care about animals but not showing a like for this poem, but I see many animal videos, where animals play with each other or some intrigued by each other. Redd stated.
“I will tell you this fellas,” Andy said, “Something I want to tell you because I am reading the news about what’s happening in the U.S.A. Before 9/11 I felt the U.S.A. was on the verge of a war within its self, but after 9/11 I seen unity, and the thought did cross my mind so it did not happen as a distraction? Who knows but what if I am right, and what if all the wisdom about peace and unity has been dissolved away by time, because watch the short film and song ‘The House I Live In’ with Frank Sinatra, it taught kids to appreciate each other because one day we will need each other. Seventy years after, people are still trying to learn the same lessons of accepting those who may be different from us. This song is about freedom in general. I also like Sam Cookes version. Also I think every Poets’ life could be a short film.” Andy said. “I recall, ‘Not everyone is the brightest star in the sky, you have rhythm son.’ _ Don Meade aka Freddy Fyth, Ha ha.”
Redd laughed and sung, “Johnny Hortons’ Battle Of New Orleans.”
“Facebook is changing on us, where we writers are getting the shaft again.” Boet stated.
“I just posted, ’Listen to your Poet blood, and people love that.” Andy stated. “Boet, this is public profile was and is unless dickweeds domain want to buck with me... This is their check your bank account domain... As it was and shall be, Poets are the breath of humanity... I don’t have time to take my belt off, and whoop some ass, but hey I just did, so in other words, these people are out of touch of real life, and they need a spanking.”
Redd was thinking of the website, and how it should be, but since time has been, since it was up, and so much happening like bigger sites closing down, and some have closed their contributor sections, if only people who said they’d help build it to the specs, people and Poetry would have a safe place to enjoy.
“I think Poetry is a dead end?” Mathias said, “You all should make movies, comedy, and mystery as the train is, you all have a great thing happening.”
Andy looked at Redd and said, “Here at the dead end it is peaceful, here we can feel fear, rejoice, and enjoy being positive in a negative era. We have been cultivating this niche for nearly a decade. As we mentioned before the world has been branded enough, but films and mini documentaries of Poets is what we have been doing in a way, and trying to show Poets this wisdom, written for sure, but educating ourselves with many things pertaining to film. Also many people never heard of us because many people do not care, so it seems that way. Maybe we live in a different realm, but it is safe here. Poets and People do not realize we do this because we love Poetry, and we are Super Ghosts, Super Poets, and most of all Super Poetry Promoters funded by the air and love of the art. We have members on this train that know exactly what’s up in this world, and they encourage us more than many know.”
“I think laziness is a problem too, and I mean think about it, how hard is it for some Poet to help another Poet out, if they claim they are a Poet and love Poetry, then why not.” Boet said, “Seems like a selfish world to me.”
“Let us say Poets fear T.V. And film, in many ways, so what does that tell you?” Andy said. “Even it up, become the T.V. And be in films, even the score. Simple to me.”
Look at the response from the Poem I just shared from Anisie Byukusenge and her poem, “What Have I Done Wrong, Mother Nature? Redd stated, We are blessed to have the Alphonso G. Newcomer Poets still active, and expressing gratitude for what we do, and enjoy the Poets we find, but where is everyone else? Anisie Byukusenge’s Poem is very powerful, imagine being blind, or deaf.
“I agree, we are going to keep moving, write, learn, listen, and engage in all of the above and more, because bliss is bliss, and nothing but ourselves can stop this!” Andy said.
“It’s going to hit hard, and some harder than others.” Boet stated. “Like a best friend you have not seen in twenty eight years, that friend loved-loves you, kept you in the heart for so many changes through life and the times, but kept you close, and never actually turned the back on the friendship, and once reunited again, it all comes, the love, and that opens the reality of time. Also unfortunately sometimes this never happens, because many are not attuned to it, they claim they have no time, and do not read. The signs are already all around, but who sees them? A mass refusal of some sorts, mayhaps?”
We must keep it forward and onward, better late than never because bearing witness is a pretty big responsibility in this book. Redd stated.
“Why then should we be polite?” Andy asked. “I mean these world societies are not polite when it comes to the going nowhere politics of the world. Ha ha, even there, communications are blocked.”
Mathias looked at Andy, and Andy looked at Mathias thinking, ‘We know what a perfected world looks and feels like.’ and Andy said, “We have not done the impossible, because we have succeeded, and shall continue this. Drag the wagon down all you want, it is still moving. We can’t focus on that crap any longer. Let it go. Maybe Poetry is like disturbing the Wars, and as we have learned, people love conflict, until it sits on their laps. Then they cry how much they care, and point fingers, and load guns.”
As they looked out the widows they crossed over a safe railway bridge into Uganda, and the storm moved south.
“I want to mention people that work in the film business have their eyes on the train that is for sure, ya ya, come on.” Andy said with a smile on his face. “A passenger posted this old article about the Poets voice, and what it barrels up to is for me is Poets keeping the audience glued to the Poem. The Poets of the page, and Poets of the stage have different approaches, and new Poets either follow one or the other, and this does what, more of the same it seems like? Keep in mind the age of the internet is here and new. Before I carry on I want to make this clear from my view, to me the Poets voice is the spine and spirit of the Poem, but this article seems about the tonal presentation and here is what I like about the article most, Rich Smith suggests for Poets look to the theater for direction, and I believe he is correct, because back in 1987 when I started I felt the same thing, go to plays, go to movies, listen to people, mimic, impersonate, ventriloquism, because all of these things fascinated me, and I knew they were tools for Poetry, but I chose to study more of music, how to listen, play, write, and record it, and this was because I liked to dance, and it seemed to make people more happier, so let’s think about this. By the way Boet these are American Poets we have already read, listened to and promoted, Ha ha. I say again, the art of listening is listening to the spine and spirit of the Poem.”
“The words must sing.” Boet declared.
Yeah, yeah. Redd replied.
“I think it was Charlie that said, A Poet and their Poetry gets to be like good wine over a period of time, and I have to agree.” Andy added, also a thought earlier is, one day there will be people like us, exploring the Poetry Realm, so all is good, Ha Ha, th’Wicked Papoose Caboose is back yonder, Ha ha.”
“So is reading Poetry at the Library of Congress the grand ol Poetry spot for Poets?” Boet asked.
That is brilliant, maybe. Redd replied and laughed.
“We will never know, because comments are disabled there.” Andy replied. “I have learned much playing in a band live, so for me, I’d know what I’d do up there. Before I shake this nest more I just want to say it sucks that Poets and People in Africa have to pay more to access all of the good things online, and that same BS is about to hit everyone if people do not put a stop to it, but we know where all that will go. Let me ponder some things.”
“News, bad news, in less than one hundred days, Cape Town might become the first major city in the world to run out of water.” Mathias said.
Everyone shook their heads.
“I ’am going to go get us some ice cream.” Andy said. “Remember Eddie Murphy delirious, that is a grand example of ways to recite Poetry, pull it up, take a listen. Recalling what was making folks smiles back in the day.”
“I get the feeling that what you and Andy have been doing is similar to American home schooling.” Boet said.
Much so, but more like in the invisible. Redd replied.
“Thanks Andy.” Boet replied grabbing his ice cream. “I pulled up a list of the best impressionists.”
“Cool.” Andy replied. “Women like stuff like this, just so you know.”
Listen what Aries Spears says about the skill, ‘You just have it, hear it or you don’t.’ Redd quoted. Maybe Tom Crusie is a Poet because he loves his pens. The Kevin Pollack story is amazing. He gave him a second pen, and keep sake the first one, classic.
“Ha Ha, I met two people who look like Tom Cruise in my roofing days.”Andy said. “Maybe these great impressionists are the cream of the crop, if their heart is not back biting? Some are cocky.”
And Poets are not. Redd replied.
“Right.” Andy replied. “So where are all of the Scientists at, that were causing havoc all around the U.S.A. not long ago with weather hurricane bombs, and such, causing rain falls massively but can’t put out forest fires fast enough... Or those oil pipelines sucking the world dry... The west and the east come on, gather round... But the wise, know the magic of the rain turtle, and faith ... Help out and get to it... Don’t knock it unless you’vd rock’d it, Some people man. Listening to these impressionists are already making us smile.” Andy laughed. “The Lake here may blow up.”
Do you pick up on the cento inc. Redd added, Did you also pick up on the phrase, ‘Set the standards,’ so tell me rich kids who own social media sites, can you set a standard in roofing or are you living in hologram bubble? Did you also pick up in how they are all friends and respect one another in that show biz.?
“We won’t impersonate Poets.” Andy said. “Frank Caliendo had it right, about that president smirk, I noticed it with all of them. Interesting.”
“Did you notice how the British tear up the British and all they can.” Boet added.
Yes Sir, keep in mind, where we are. Redd said.
“They are a bit charming aren’t they?” Andy asked.
They know Americans well. Redd replied.
“There you go master ventriloquists.” Andy said. “So if the average impressionist can do a fantastic job, and people recognize, and applause them, then the Poetry audience knows who is original or who is not?”
Can I be Tom Baker please please? Redd Asked, I won’t ask for Jelly Babies.
“As in Poetry, the original is always better all than the rest even when they are not around.” Boet said.
In Poetry though it is best to just be who you are, and grow. Redd added.
“There was a comment by an African Poet Kennedy Bwambale II, and he said, ’I am not going to post any Poem until some one pays me, ha ha.” Andy added.
That is a start. Redd replied, and laughed
With Andy a tear passed by, and he said. “Comedy like Politics gets on my nerves, though.”
Lets talk about Rockstars, then we have Rap stars and Movies stars. Redd said.
“Redd you have to be as Sammy Davis.” Mathias said.
As my ass. Redd replied. I chase and tap dance Poetry and dreams. I have a big story. They say you have to kiss ass... They can make a Davis, but you can not make a ass ace out of me. I know English but you can not rule my world. I find it amazing if you do not stick to your guns, you’ll end up in oblivion in all arts.
“I think it will work, the biggest factor being determination.” Mathias said, “That counts as everything. Comedy is consistency... As long as you drop the mentality of trying to promote. The biggest downside of trying to discover and promote is that you are not going to get stunning writers that way; and the overall impact is killing the train itself in the long run.”
I understand. Redd replied. What we do is historical documentation for many reasons, but the best one, is being the Poetry reader audience witness program, and to find out why Poetry is not on top, and also most of all Poets protection. The wisdom in each Poet is priceless. But what we are seeing is red herrings in the arts. What comes to mind again is finding the right people, and as you said. Find amateurs to out do the experts, and again as we have said, we understand. One of the things is say football for an analogy, if we pass the ball you are going to have to catch it, and run with it, so take for instance Poet Nassira Nezzar from Algeria, she puts her heart and soul into what she does, and combines what we do, and she is what we can say a team player. In simple terms she gets it, she implements what has been done in the huddles, she listens. We understand competition but to much of it distracts the Poetry audience.
Andy laid his on the table, thought out loud, “I am my own literary bodyguard, my own Poetry Igloo builder, my own impressionist, my own ventriloquist, my own soul, and why does it take a life and time to be born to a world that sees the artistic sprint in joy, sadness, and tribulations. I am my own promise and rainbow, and I love life, my true friends, family, and team mates, furthermore my fans, our fans. “We are dealing with back biting kettles and pots. This is good, we are on the right path, crucially, it also expresses who we want to be, world-class tale of great idea, good actors with luster delivery. ”
The train stopped in Uganda, and the more egg shells could be heard mentally walked on, and new egg shells were scattered by creation all over the realms floor.
As they gathered their things to spend time in Uganda and the train crew to clean up, Andy said, “No one can find Alexis Kagame’s epic poem, ‘The Singer Of The Lord of Creation’. A poem with 35,000 lines divided into 150 Cantos. And the only Poet that came to the party was Poet Erika Luckert.”