blessed steppe mother

Our own modest steppe-land is not like another – watched over, protected, by blessed Steppe Mother. She shelters all animals under her wing and cares for the smallest and biggest of things, for field-mouse and springbok and furry cave-bat, for lizard, mosquito, and tiny sand-cat. Her colors are azure and ocher and gold, of her glory is in old stories much told, she makes all the grasses and midget trees bloom with dazzling blossoms and miniature plumes. Her watch never wavers through daytime and night, her justice is brutal and sudden and Right, her worshipers leave very few lasting traces to prove that they've been to the offering places. Her voice can be heard in the strong piercing winds that blow away evil and erase our sins, that race down the Yiptlong so steep and so high, as soon as the summers begin to turn dry. So come seek her presence, it is always near, it makes the soul vibrate and brings men to tears while women and babies just laugh with delight quite devoid of sorrow and empty of fright.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

empty cocktail glasses

We people of these great Grigovian lands are here and now taking a heels-dug-in stand. The foe we are facing has lots of foul faces, it's practiced in private and in public places, it robs us of Happiness and makes us lazy, drives women to madness and men to be crazy. While most persons like it in bits at a time to quaff at some whiskey or lap up some wine there are many others who booze to excess then wake up to find that their life is a mess. We're offering workshops and after-dark classes to any who get lost in their cocktail glasses, who want to lead lives filled with love, joy, and calm, who would like to sample a different balm. The meetings are nightly, in towns near and far, no need to get fancy just come as you are, it is our intention to provide assistance to anyone seeking to go the full distance. Together we can beat this wasting disease that drives many people down onto their knees, when they just as well could be standing up tall with faces exhibiting ruddier palls.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

great holy Grigung

At three thousand one hundred forty two meters our most holy peak is this country's sun-greeter. Higher than all other mountains around great Grigung she rises straight out of the ground and stretches her summit up into the sky, the bright rays of morning she is first to spy. Sent down from her cloud-swept and snow-covered summit fall cool rushing waters with dashing swift plummet that nourish our rivers and fill up our streams, to climb her is every Grigovian's dream. Much like to Mount Fuji or Gunung Agung are the countless praises that we've to her sung, she ignites our passions and lifts up our hopes with craggy defiles and perilous slopes. To us she is more than the House Of The Gods, her majesty strengthens us against the odds that greet us and meet us day in and day out, she helps us stay centered and drains us of doubt. Her outline it graces our largest bank-note, we're often heard with her sweet name in our throats, beloved by natives and people far-flung is our dearest mountain – great holy Grigung.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

goat-flesh and cactus

We few humble people of the northern Iysh would like to share with you a regional dish. It's composed of goat-flesh and tender cactus that live in the Dune Sea not too far from us. The meat is first simmered three days on a fire of wood that is brought down from regions much higher, from up in the foothills of the Yiptlong steep where grow many forests and perhaps some sheep. We toss in the cactus at the very end, then add to the mixture a strong herbal blend of wheat-grass and parsley and fennel and clover, pull pots from the fire and let them sit, covered. These pots are then buried for nearly ten days, to keep them from rusting we make sure they're glazed, we dig them and lift them with care from the soil whereupon we enjoy the fruits of our toil. The meat is quite tender and bound in a jelly that leaks from the cactus and slicks to the belly, the herbs lend a flavor not sour or sweet that makes the concoction quite nearly complete. Some factions then bake on a sourdough crust but most of us reach for utensils and just dole out the admixture to earthenware plates and eat it until hunger-pangs do abate. If you'd like to try it then now is the time, we've brewed many barrels of sweet honey-wine, to share with our neighbors and all our friends too, leave tonight, act swiftly – we're waiting for you.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

battle and travel

When once came a rajah to us from the East we soon lay before him a welcoming feast. There were but few followers left in his train whose garments did not bear the horrible stains of battle and travel and many weeks spent asleep in the open with nary a tent. They'd fled from the Munguls come down from the plains, as our friendly rajah with patience explained, left all their belongings as booty and plunder and vanished while all that they'd known burst asunder. They wanted to pay for the things they'd ingested – we refused and refused but they just insisted – it was not their money or jewels we wanted but all of the knowledge their brain-pans yet haunted. With learning the wisest among them were brimming, in wisdom and genius we all soon were swimming, to honor common generosity we all got together and planted a tree. That plant is still growing in Queen Pylta's Park, it shelters both scholar and brightly-plumed lark, it's kept getting bigger these two-hundred years, since we fed the rajah with lamb-chops and beers. We still welcome people from far Hindoostan, there are exchange programs for woman and man, so sign up to take part in one of your own or just fill a backpack and start off alone. There is room for all sorts and types in our land, to learn about graphics and mammary glands, about astrophysics and effluvia, with welcome all persons to Grigovia.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

before it began

Our ancestors stuck like a thorn in the side of many empires that lined up and tried to make us and force us to work as their slaves, to give up our freedoms and die in their graves. It started with puny Iksander the Great, who showed up one morning but didn't stay late, who called off his action before it began, who witness our magnitude, turned tail, and ran. Then came many Persians, Xerxes and Mehmed, who likewise when seeing their mountains of dead, decided that our dear small patch of earth was not for their taking and had little worth. The Byzantines themselves did not even dare, to venture to within a day of our borders but wisely retreated behind stone and mortar while making great claims about not being scared. Of Ottoman cavalry there was once rumor but that threat we excised like doctors a tumor and sent all those horsemen back home on their feet to tell to their master brave tales of defeat. The British and Russians we also made flee with fear in their livers and blood in their pee, to highness and leader, to lordship and czar, they made heartfelt warnings from us to keep far. Now these days we stand tall and do what we can to protect our country from Americans who violate all of the standards and norms that meet the world's children the day they are born. We've measured the bloodthirstiness of our foe, from this our own soil we shall not soon go, these threats to our sovereignty we too shall meet with steadfast devotion and methods discreet.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

on the profleshional

Immune to the lure of a priestly confessional she is the consummate, hardy profleshional. Taken to earning some bread on her back hers is a prodigious but plasticized rack. She takes local currency, euros, and dollars, she's loads of addicted and regular followers paying to bed her both daytime and night, like moths they are drawn to her subtle, red light. Starting mostly likely before time began her ilk has provided much pleasure to man, to soldiers and sultans, to peons and kings, she fancies much makeup and big hoop earrings. Known to cop, student, accountant, and sailor she conveys much pleasure to people who nail her, just make sure to wrap up that jimmy for sure before you're expose to her heady allure. To find her hit Bangkok or fair Amsterdam, don't go there with girlfriend of long-term madame, if there is one lesson this poem should teach, it is not to ever bring sand to the beach.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

through selfless devotion

The girl caught a fever while tending to sheep and falling high up in the meadows asleep. Through selfless devotion to each in her flock she'd built up a vast and deep love-karma stock so much so her actions the Goddess did please who saved her from death during a sudden freeze. The maiden awoke to spy frost on the ground where hours before only flowers she'd found and straddled above her with short-sword unsheathed was vast Nuuzstathena stood there on the heath. A wolf was approaching, his nose in the dirt, he looked up and glanced at the bight flashing skirt that girdled the loins of our Patroness fair whose green eyes were flashing amidst her dark hair. The beast turned and vanished with palpable hurry, his footfalls churned frozen mud into a slurry, the flock then came shivering back to her side as Nuuzstathena for the young girl cried. The tears of the Goddess rained down from on high – 'twas nary a thundercloud seen in the sky – they landed and mingled in eye, mouth, and nose of that blessed child who lay there and froze. The magical fluid soon entered her system and filled her with fortitude, honor, and wisdom, while deep in her body the blood it did boil with such intense heat that it softened hard soil. Now during this time of great bodily danger the maiden thought mostly of getting to manger the weakest and lowliest sheep in her care, about her own peril was barely aware. To teach her the Goddess then filled her with visions of methods for healing deep social divisions, for bringing together such humans as might prefer to be angry and constantly fight. Her missions accomplished the Goddess then sped and left Erya Rovend asleep on a bed of bright and green heather in a sea of frost, the young girl who'd gained much at so little cost. To see her just stop by New York's own U.N., where she stands to battle tyrannical men, and fills our Grigovian hearts with such pride, young Erya upon whom the Goddess once cried.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

on archipedoptosaur ulricherii

It lived many millions of winters ago and has lain a few years just under the snow. It was first discovered by two Yaelong boys who kept mostly quiet despite profound joy; they'd spoken but briefly with a village elder who had built around it a permanent shelter. Named archipedoptosaur ulricherii, this small, flightless dinosaur lived below trees and built complex shelters with only its feet, Ulrich was the first boy its fragments to meet. What was once obscured has become a sensation, it's bringing much glory to our land-locked nation, now experts and researchers flock here in droves, enjoying Grigovia's vast treasure troves. We've fossils and artwork, food, dance, and song too, we are never bored as there's so much to do, if upon this reading your interest is piqued then come to Grigovia, stay here for weeks.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

tea for centuries

Please meet us out under the bainnoyendt tree – you're welcome to join our tea ceremony. We've known tea for centuries as the Silk Road did venture to pass by our humble abodes, we steep and we brew it, we treat it like gold, we maintain traditions preserved by our old and sage-like grandparents who live with us still, we'll never allow them old-folks-homes to fill. First comes some tea tasting, that is how we start, then follow fine pastries and dried figs and tarts, whereupon we fill all the teacups again and toast to the majestic Goddesses Ten. Try any and all of the wonderful flavors from spicy to earthy to ones that are savory, ones that make sleepy and those that are bland, ones that enliven the lymphatic glands. Some teas are quite bitter and others are strong, they keep up the drinker all day and night long, they're used by ship-captains and people on watch, they gain with time flavor, like any good scotch. So come when you're ready to sit back and chill, we've many more cups atop saucers to fill, this is one decision you won't soon regret, hold onto your ponies – you've seen nothing yet.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

all ancient rows

The walls of the temple do resound and glow with each of the old songs of power we know. We're calling to all of the Goddesses Ten and asking them kindly to heal and to mend the schisms that plaque us and cause us to weep, that rob us of honor and long, blessed sleep. Their teachings provoke us to let go of grudges, to forgive all errors and missteps and fudges, to stay in the present, the here and the now, to clear from our memories all ancient rows. With them we can manage to keep our thoughts righteous, to speak only kind things to those who might fight us, to maintain our truthfulness and not to waver when tempted with rich and delectable flavors. Our bodies are made but for a short-term stay, our spirits just renting this weak, mortal clay, that's composed of star-dust and suns long burnt out, that's given to sicknesses – cancer and gout. In truth we're eternal, we shan't know an end, so lay down your arms and come hug us, dear friends, and share with us a peaceful moment or four, and praise with us patroness – matron or whore.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

hollow and brook

The deserts are fertile, the mountains are green, the rivers are rushing – with fishes they teem. The steppe-land is verdant, the marshes abound with leaves in the treetops and vines on the ground. In every valley and crevasse and nook, in snowbank and furrow and hollow and brook, are coming alive many manners of thing, from plants with root networks to insects with wings. It is not our duty to ask who or when did populate meadow and rock-face and glen, with vibrant and incessant diversity, it's ours but to praise all these things that we see, and some of them that from the eyes often hide, occluded by greediness, sadness, and pride. So up with the voices and let the tones ring, it's not so much what but how often one sings, with voices uplifted and honest and bright, alive with the Spirit both daytime and night.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

on paver panels

As part of its efforts to be independent the powers that govern Grigovia splendidly OK'd a program to repave most roads with panels that carry electrical loads. These panels can capture the rays from the sun, convert them to power for everyone, they heat up in winter to keep the roads clear, allowing us safely upon them to steer. In summertime when the sun's rays are most full, and panels experience maximum pull, they shuttle on wires the juice they have won, to run our refridges and fans and air-cons. In shape they are that of a full hexagon, they're coated with substances, a special blend, that keeps them intact and allows them to mend, such cracks, dents, and fissures that mar them with time, there's little can foul them but harsh, caustic lime. For more information and to take a peek, peruse these here documents that have been leaked, then watch as your electric bills fall and plummet and sound aloud praises from the highest summit.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

on finding trash

While expanding Grig's subterranean mass transit system, the Rapid Person Transport or RPT, workers recently discovered the remains of an ancient settlement near the banks of the Yalung river. “In just the last few days we have found a trash pit, a burial grounds, a ceremonial or religious center, and signs of possible human sacrifice,” said Dr. Eidyon Prunggan, director of research for the Grigovian National Museum. “Preliminary evidence suggests this site is from the period of Grig's second period of growth into the areas surrounding the river, which occurred around 220 Common Error.” Instead of completely rerouting the path of the metro in order to avoid the site, the IV Engineering Battalion of the Grigovian National Defense Force, which designed and is spearheading work on the expansion, has announced plans to add a museum to a nearby underground station, with the intention of house there the discovered artifacts and reconstructed architectural remains.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥