GAMING

Our society is obsessing with the affliction of “The Game”; IT’S IN OUR SOCIAL BLOODSTREAM. Every human interaction is a life defining contest—”you vs. me”. This athletic metaphor (as metaphors tend to do) inform us a little in regards the nature of human interactions; but it is not the best way to engender the creation and growth and wellbeing of human communities.

Gaming morphs human beings into mechanisms most suitable for being controlled by fellow human beings. It accomplishes this by engendering feelings of addicting anxieties: aggressiveness, insecurity, defensiveness, and an overbearing aloningness— FACTORS DRIVING OUR CONSUMING ADDICTION TO !ME!ME!ME!It is imperative that we stop GAMING, and be making our interactions momentings of ONE-INGNESS that are always blossoming and being inhaled by us all

SURRENDERING FOR A SELFIE, DAMN!!!

We are surrendering to the serpentining whining of THOSE AMONG US WHO ARE JUST TEMPORARILY GLITTERING; BUT ARE DESPERATELY DOING ANY AND EVERYTHING IN THEIR EFFORT TO BE HOLDING ON TO THEIR PERCEIVED POWER FOR EVER. There is not any substantial glowing in glitter; only the fleeting flashing of mimes, and the momentary clustering of staccatos of flashes, WHOSE FALSE GLOW IS SUSTAINING ONLY AS LONG AS WE KEEP FOCUSSING LIGHT ON THEM

We should be rejoicing that these pretentiously arrogating fools are parading themselves so blatantly: NOW, THEY’RE DANCING ALL OUT IN THE OPEN, AND FLAUNTING THEIR DECEIT AND HUMAN ABUSE—OPENLY DARING US TO HOLD THEM ACCOUNTABLE. And just what are we choosing to do? WE ARE CELEBRATING THEIR TREASONOUS MALFEASANCE BY PUBLICLY, OBSESSIVELY, AND RELIGIOUSLY PROSTRATING AT THEIR FEET FOR A SELFIE AND AN AUTOGRAPH SO TRYING TO BE JUST LIKE THEM. AND IT IS VERY VERY CLEAR THAT WE ARE BEING VERY SUCCESSFUL: PERHAPS THIS IS WHY WE KEEP CHEERING THEM ON BY RELECTING THEM AND/OR RUBBER STAMPING THEIR BEHAVIOR AT THEIR RESPECTIVE GOVERNING VENUES, BOX OFFICES, STADIUMS, AND PERFORMANCE STAGES, ET CETERA

WE SHOULD AT LEAST BE ASKING: HOW ARE THESE TRAITOROUS PEOPLE WHO, THEMSELVES, ARE SO BLATANTLY AND COMPULSIVELY IMITATING OTHERS IN AN EFFORT TO SATISFY THEIR INSATIABLE AND EVER GROWING ADDICTION TO !ME!ME!ME!ME!ME! ASSISTING MY EFFORT TO BE EXPERIENCING THE DECLARATION: “THAT ALL MEN ARE CREATED EQUAL, THAT THEY ARE ENDOWED BY THEIR CREATOR WITH CERTAIN UNALIENABLE RIGHTS, THAT AMONG THESE ARE LIFE, LIBERTY AND THE PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS.” SINCE THEY ARE NOT PROVIDING THE KIND OF SOCIETAL LEADERSHIP WITH WHICH THEIR RESPECTIVE VENUES ARE CHARGED, !WHY WHYWHY! AM I SO EAGERLY AND RELIGIOUSLY PROSTRATING BEFORE THEM, AND OBEYING THEIR SELFISH WHIMS—SO ABSOLUTELY—AS THOUGH I AM SOME KIND OF ZOMBIE!!!

SURRENDERING FOR A SELFIE, DAMN!!!

 We are surrendering to the serpentining whining of THOSE AMONG US WHO ARE JUST  TEMPORARILY GLITTERING; BUT ARE DESPERATELY DOING ANY AND EVERYTHING IN THEIR EFFORT TO BE HOLDING TO THEIR PERCEIVE POWER FOR EVER. There is not any substantial glowing in glitter; only the fleeting flashing of mimes, and the momentary clustering of staccatos of flashes, WHOSE FALSE GLOW IS SUSTAINING ONLY AS LONG AS WE KEEP FOCUSSING LIGHT ON THEM

We should be rejoicing that these pretentiously arrogating fools are parading themselves so blatantly. But, much to the contrary, we are celebrating their treason by publicly, obsessively, and obediently trying to be just like them (PROSTRATING AT THEIR FEET FOR A SELFIE AND AN AUTOGRAPH. AND IT IS VERY VERY CLEAR THAT WE ARE BEING VERY SUCCESSFUL: PERHAPS THIS IS WHY WE KEEP CHEERING THEM ON BY RELECTING THEM AND/OR RUBBER STAMPING THEIR BEHAVIOR AT THEIR RESPECTIVE GOVERNING VENUES, BOX OFFICES, STADIUMS, AND PERFORMANCE STAGES, ET CETERA

 WE SHOULD AT LEAST ASK: HOW ARE THESE TRAITOROUS PEOPLE  WHO, THEMSELVES, ARE SO BLATANTLY AND COMPULSIVELY IMITATING OTHERS IN AN EFFORT TO SATISFY THEIR INSATIABLE AND EVER GROWING ADDICTION TO !ME!ME!ME!ME!ME! ASSISTING MY EFFORT TO BE EXPERIENCING THE DECLARATION: “THAT ALL MEN ARE CREATED EQUAL, THAT THEY ARE ENDOWED BY THEIR CREATOR WITH CERTAIN UNALIENABLE RIGHTS, THAT AMONG THESE ARE LIFE, LIBERTY AND THE PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS.” SINCE THEY ARE NOT PROVIDING THE KIND OF SOCIETAL LEADERSHIP WITH WHICH THEIR RESPECTIVE VENUES ARE CHARGED, !WHYWHYWHY! AM I SO EAGERLY AND RELIGIOUSLY PROSTRATING BEFORE THEM, AND OBEYING THEIR SELFISH WHIMS—SO ABSOLUTELY—AS THOUGH I AM SOME KIND OF ZOMBIE!!!

Foot Boot and The Heads . . .

 In human societies wherein the citizens are constantly being alienated from themselves and each other, the Boot and the Heads Underneath the Boot never changes; only the Collective Foot in the Boot changes

“All the sons of Adam are part of one single body
They are of the same essence.
When time afflicts us with pain
In one part of that body
All the other parts feel it too.
If you fail to feel the pain of others
You do not deserve the name of man”

—Saadi Shirazi—

The great Persian poet who was captured and enslaved at Acre by the Crusaders. These (his) words now stand at the entrance of the headquarters of the United Nations.

so now where youuuuu

. . . seeing citizens running on pretending they’re free by nourishing on lies continuously, marching on everyday so cofflingly, and vicariously living for so feeling they be

The CITIZENS are the soil of a nation. When a nation is being plagued with INFERIOR LEADERSHIP, THIS IS A RESULT OF THE GROWING IMMORAL BEHAVIOR OF ITS CITIZENS. A NATION IS ALWAYS A REFLECTION OF THE REAL MORALITY OF ITS CITIZENS; NOT THEIR BOASTFUL, ARROGANT, AND HYPOCRITICAL PROCLAMATIONS

the all impoverishing arms of legacy chasing
(IT’S JUST ALL ABOUT ME!ME!ME!ME!ME!)

we’re just flies disguising here
laying eggs in this parasitic abiding
wooing on in the fawning eyes begging
of those echoing all around we all
hanging on to us here
like us doing to them and us too
inflationating everything we’re doing
swelling up but never growing at all
except here in our desperate exclaiming
“I’M this special one”
who auctionating other souls like me
into new little shiny old what-nots

politely embalming seditious thoughts
of another some ‘nother body else
sitting here magistrating after me
if this is no more i’ll have nothing left
“but what about us who propping you up
by grabbing on close all up around you
we gon be left here hymning by our self
‘til the next they coming along like you”

it doesn’t matter this how we gon stay
floating like straws scattering everyday
clinging on to whomever’s drifting by
dutifully touching-up my fading smile
on chanting pallets of your mouths
‘cause we aint letting you be forgetting
how you knowing this what you knowing
all you ALL YOU supposed to be
is just grateful little memorials to ME

Copyright © 2016 Asili Ya Nadhiri

but what now of they themmm’d 
’bout whom it never is told
unknowing come they born too
with a share they hummming
with the seer’s tongue
limping aloning alone
in their incessant roam
knowd they un-be-knownst
the unknowing unknowned  

*the rest of my father 

there deep in the child soft smile
of his thin dark lips
“tipping his hat to Miss Ann
and Sister Emma too”
was a creek of still water
and blood running red
in a short little man
shuffled back in the rear
and left limping there alone
humming “NEARRRRUH MY !LOR‘R’ORD! to Theeee”
wondering just what he done wrong  

he was always there by himself
when any somebody came by
to get what he had for’em free
and stand next to‘im looking down
tryin to feel sump‘n better ‘bout theyself
and they never heard a word that he said 

there deep in the child soft smile
of his thin dark lips
“tipping his hat to Miss Ann
and Sister Emma too”
was a creek of still water
and blood running red
in a short little man
shuffled back in the rear
and left limping there alone
humming “NEARRRRUH MY !LOR‘R’ORD! to Theeee”
wondering just what he done wrong 

everybody in the town there knowd him
and they called him Mr. Walduh by‘is name
they wuz always jokin and rubbin on’is head
but they wuz talking with my mama in his stead
and they never heard a word that he said  

there deep in the child soft smile
of his thin dark lips
“tipping his hat to Miss Ann
and Sister Emma too”
was a creek of still water
and blood running red
in a short little man
shuffled back in the rear
and left limping there alone
humming “NEARRRRUH MY !LOR’R’ORD! to Theeee“
wondering just what he done wrong  

every Sunday sitting there in the amen corner
where all the holy men go
to show how they praying !HAH!
and how dey marching on into the kingdom come
but his turn in the corner never came
so they kept on passing on by
and they never heard a word that he said  

there deep in the child soft smile
of his thin dark lips
“tipping his hat to Miss Ann
and Sister Emma too”
was a creek of still water
and blood running red
in a short little man
shuffled back in the rear
and left limping there alone
humming “NEARRRRUH MY !LOR’R’ORD! to Theeee”
wondering just what he done wrong  

the preacher he stood there humming
’cause he just didn’t know what to say
so I stood up there and said what I said
to the few people there looking on
’bout the man laying there in the ground
but nobody cried not even the eyes
and when the ashes had gone to ashes
and the dust had done’n’done the same
everybody when they got up n left
had already done forgot his name
’cause they never heard a word that he said  

there deep in the child soft smile
of his thin dark lips
“tipping his hat to Miss Ann
and Sister Emma too”
was a creek of still water
and blood running red
in a short little man
shuffled back in the rear
and left limping there alone
humming “NEARRRUH MY !LOR‘R’ORD! to Theeee”
wondering just what he done wrong 

 
Copyright © 1993, 2019 Asili Ya Nadhiri 

The Absurdity of Fact Checking Addicts
(if the objective is stopping the lying)

Liars are addicts: always scheming for an easy way to be hiding their overwhelming weaknesses, and the deep seated knowledge that they will never be able to do so. They are always aware of their obsessive lying because that is the menacing darkening always pulsing in their minds; and, as all addicts, they do not need (or ultimately depend on) an external audience (of self-serving sycophants) to urge them on because their internal theater is the most essential one. And they know with absolute certainty that they are doomed to being stripped naked and laid bare in the abiding and complicitationing ME!ME!ME! obsessing mantra of our SELFINGsociety in which they are trying so desperately to be so pretentiously masquerading in their boisterously silent pathetic plea for help. And, they continue persisting in randomly and hypnotically conjuring for that ultimate lie to the point of absolutely convincing themselves that they are not the ones lying: “It’s all themmm other THEMMMS;”because they’re too weak, hopelessly, and inheritenly scared to be trying to do anything else