I’m not really hard to identify as a poet. I’m loyal to the fact that a few sincere songwriters appeared to made miserable by the Vietnam War and were willing to try to calm the savage beast wit the reasoning songs of civil love. Easy to be Hard always touched me deeply, but it’s terribly serious to discover that members of HAIR were in the AIDS attack culture. It leaves nothing to be proud of and nothing to endorse which is why we still need our martyrs JFK and Dr. King to say they didn’t, you know, plan Obama and Trump.


Obama just proved that book deals are big money. By torturing me and then spreading the rumor that my narrative belongs to a clowniac posse comitatus who own me as a property, the Federal Bureau of Investigation shut down the Public’s Right to Know of the attack and succeeded in brutally torturing me publicly yet a second time. Still they claim a property right over the affair with no pretense of the idea that innocence is a defense. They ripper murdered Shannon Harps in Seattle around the symbol of a penny, the C of copyright in a Star of David.


The script shows that the victims would be made to feel ick-ick and encouraged them to respond by a Margaret Meade formula of demanding high risk initiation of anyone who came to their defense. This strategy fanned the flames of spread, while creating a herd culture of inside presumptions instead of timely warning, during which time the Beatles told me they were on the side of the attack because of planetary over-crowding. They offered anger management guidelines.


AIDS was committed under the dome of Mutual Assured Destruction (MAD). Reading unfinished text that may be critical to understanding is its own art. The victims and at risk do not have stopwatches to play against a hidden rulebook and the governance by those in power to observe with their carefully scripted anticipated outcomes. A person like me is scorned by a nearly robo-automatic public mentality for being loving and law-abiding in a society to whom the law is meaningless. Public Relations in our society are the new Trojan Horse where every smile and gesture of fraternity is an Injun Treaty. Being backstabbed is Proof of Purchase. Every dead eye dick and publication for the masses in America down to the street voices are under control by the AIDS attackers because of Lewis Lapham former Editor in Chief at Harpers, with a grudge for my family name, older in America that that, our nation’s oldest periodical. Why Seattle wasn’t a safe haven is simple: they brokered the same sick deal for Obama as Pittsburgh. The cynicism of the NAACP comes from awareness that if whites could push them into the 3rd world many of us would, and their longstanding craftiness at manipulating white liberal guilt seemed a sure deal when it came to cowardly little Jimmy queerball.

Reagan’s denial was issued clairvoyantly in a shroud of guilty admission containing the legend go ahead and tell. The Beatles called on loyalists as it spread to announce their art as salvation, the usual stuff from the Palace of London and Tavistock. The Nammies really think they are neat, and the whole thing worth the aplomb they put into it because it all fits together and best of all they could use Martin Luther King for what he preached in a gyration of pre-planned forgiveness (just ignore the gun). Although the British trivialized their interrogation for Lapham, demanding receipts from what did I eat when hungry and captive as a child, to demand repayment to child traffickers for feeding me, they don’t fare very well in the details, so twenty years of work doesn’t get any attention. Details, however, there are, and they amount to serious crime.



Nativist sentiment allows foreign entities to work historical facts of colonialism as established truths, meaning not just events but as ideals they can build on. False narrative may be a dirty trick but it serves as a basis for real decisions with consequences. The outcome may be so puzzling as to be perverse, as in the deranged alliance between Hustler Magazine and Seattle’s merry hatter Sherman Alexie, but it doesn’t speak well under the taunt of analysis, guarded as it is however by the panacea of tart English. Despicable catering to celebrity hang-ups are all in vogue among bullworkers who couldn’t care less.


Violent Black women have played a terribly sad role in the entire crime. Sony’s contraption, behind which is Celine Dion, Midori Goto, Michael Tive and Peter Sinfield has created a raging and sinister deceit of fascist grime smearing hatred and vaginal fluids all over the white liberal symbol in a boiling and unending frenzy against the idea that James could be eligible to marry Midori. All of the business with Rosa and Alia were about that Two Virgins pussyball game, all of the lies hiding Leslie’s secret for the mechanic. The Liars Club of course declared her innocent and demanded that I compensate child molesters, which is why Jeannie was raped.


Mercy Hospital isn’t innocent of this. Not only do they harbor Sisters of Mercy to whom the whole thing was confessed by Runco and Karl, but they used the plot of Rosa to advance their own ideological stake in demolishing the rights of others for lewd secure of death row charity work in fear for its own life as an example of love in extremism that was prior meditated. JB or Mr. Barry there, like the Barry who came up from the Fed for the Green murder of Shannon Harps under Barry Barrack, performed a miracle error of a type cited specifically as the method used by prisons that gave birth to the first inmates rights. He conveniently lost a paper I needed for court. The lights upstairs have been dark for weeks, we come in and find the place filthy on Monday, and he hails not only from Kuntu Theater whose Ubuntu goon claque is conspicuous in the way Dr. Proctor barks, “African Justice!” from time to time, but also the Kenyon College white nut behind framing me for a racist so that Obama could justify an alliance with his lookalike by Gabriel faceblender on Mt. Desert Island. Kenyon is the real birther.

It’s a situation of Royal criminals playing riddle games with linguistic hooliganism like Dale Abel and Warrendale for New Castle and KE. The advisory not to speak openly of what is going on has so many sources that sticking to the norm of transparency and disclosure has antagonists from all directions.

      Bullying has pushed me irrevocably down the slide into wrongful death and began in childhood with a slaughtering blindside attack by a man I had never seen before who vocalized a permanent claim to me from which attempts to run are depicted as fugitive and attempts to secure help absolutely futile.  I was just a little boy.  One of them said it had to be me because of what I symbolize.

      In their writings they spoke of "forces impinging on the persona."  That is a riddle meaning to internalize their character assassination.  I cried for how much they hated me wondering whatever I had done.  The neuro-behavioralist had given me a nerve agent throttling up a terrible, invisible head wound no one knew was there.  Exler then bullied me because when Leslie was nude in my arms I didn't push her into a crisis and she was chaste when we broke up after a year of dating.  The stress of their taunts caused me seizures.  I said they were acting like rape was legal.  Pitt Law mocked me, defending them, saying it wouldn't have been rape, so I left after they got even by raping my deaf advocate for questioning them.  I never did anything wrong.


      The hospital network of war and corrections called me fugitive when I washed up in seizures and homeless thousands of miles away.  Threatening to kill the children in our family they pushed a wrong medicine on me that damaged my heart and now I have diabetes from it.  The initial slaughter had left me deaf as a child.  They showed no mercy and called it organ barter for pimp-like claims when, in reality, they used me in traumacose semi-coma as a weeping, horrifically molested child for lewd adults demanding gratification.


      I tried to tell Seattle Community College who banned me from school.   When outside the clubhouse where ADWAS, abused deaf advocates placed me, Shannon Harps was ripper murdered as a warning by them and I got put into detention for trying to protest, I decided to come home, but I think Dakota Leo James who disappeared when Midori was here performing, is still the same old gang doing it again.  Midori unleashed torrents of libels at me when a professor at Duquesne.  Like the original headsman who blindsided me, now known to have been her ally, I had never seen her before and knew no reason why she would be casing me.

      Their rationalizations have been shown unbearably empty.  Something is motivating them that strips them of any semblance of humanity.  That they are deranged is inarguable, yet argue they do.