those rickety heaps

The left one is winning the right one is not and he now knew less than he might have forgot. His hands they were shaking his heart it was cold and bitter from long years of stories he'd told himself and to others about his low worth about such abuse as he'd suffered from birth. He knew not a way out not where he'd soon be or whether he should let his closest friends see the anguish and suffering buried below that had held him back and made his progress slow. Then one day he woke up and had had enough and finally turned 'round to face his past stuff and finally gave up his grasp on his grief those rickety heaps of it those well-stacked sheafs. It wouldn't be easy to stare it all down but he knew if he dug in and stood his ground he'd step from the shadows of what had once been and allow the healing to start and begin.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

lust far behind

It's time now to lessen the thoughts of the mind and leave such afflictions as lust far behind. By reaching and wanting and trying to grasp one stands there just panting with deep choking gasps one misses the options that may lie beyond one takes up war weapon not peace-making frond. So sit there unblinking and watch it all pass return to the Mother whose power can last so place not importance on this or on that on buttocks well toned or on tits' supple fat. There's nothing one can do to pull someone near except maybe make empty space twixt the ears and clear out attachment thirst hunger desire and keep room for what many call holy fire. While this may sound easy it's anything but for thoughts needs emotions do constantly jut and constantly hamper the efforts of they who seek to find Happiness now here today. Don't give up keep trying stay empty stay bland and be that bright shining star right where you stand; great fortune is coming but so is great pain – it's better to face them with soul-space unstained.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

shelter and sweets

What few homeless people still live in the streets were given this Solstice-Time shelter and sweets. Mere citizens did it, not the state's agents, did go out and knock on those crude makeshift tents did gather belongings in bag tote and box and bring in said vagrants for champagne and lox. A few things were stolen – some knickknacks at best – but for the most part such light fingers did rest and reached for a napkin or reached for the salt and with their loud smacking their hosts did exalt. More of them did stay there to lend helping hands than went back outside to roam once more the land; some cannot be cured of their need to be free to wander and gather their food from the trees. We here in Grigovia believe it's best to bring those with little straight into our nests to wash fête and furnish them with what they need be in a warm blanket or an honest feed. Ganestryx as well as fair Nuuzstathena do smile on they who hold anathema the notion that only the worthy deserve our food love and jackets our kindest of words. So open your doors to whomever may knock for she may be a goddess stood there in just socks in need of a kind and compassoinate word – or maybe a bit of that well-cooked Solst bird.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

water is ours

Our water is ours it is not for sale so stop sending writs of request in the mail. We need it to grow crops and keep ourselves clean and for making power with ground-heated steam. Should we to you sell it for one hundred years confirmed would be our few but longstanding fears concerning dependence and big business greed wherefore we will keep this here wet for our needs. Should such corporations as Coke and Pepsi be allowed to gobble up sources, you see, then soon they will raise prices for you and me and we'll have to scramble to get some clean drink and naught will then flow from well faucet or sink. Grigovian landscape will therefore stay wet and nary a drop of our water you'll get to bottle up and sell what must be kept free – that's how it is now and that's how it will be.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

methods and arts

All safe in our hiding-holes buried below we weather wild winters with faces aglow. There's vents for the fires that keep us here warm and plenty of food-stores to feed us through storms and wells for our water and blankets for night and dances and merriment for our delight. For miles they extend our well-maintained caves where we escape snowfall or months weeks and days; they help us stay fresh for the battles we'll fight against such fool nations as our borders slight. We go up for training and line up in ranks then march off through wind-gusts and piled snow-banks then march back to warm up our chilled bones again – each of us who can walk all women and men. The tubers are safe in their stout wooden stores and stout is the wood of our out-facing doors and stout is the fire that burns in our hearts as are our Grigovian methods and arts.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

and raven hair

Slow it down and take a breath – hurry only hastens death. From the hilltop mountains high loudly sounds the eagle's cry shrill its warbling crass its tone bouncing over rock and stone then it meets this human ear and I think Oh, what's that I hear? Timmy's lost in yonder well and gone is youth's short-lasting spell and now I sit here old and frail with little but a chair and pail? Ah whatever all is good for bright is my impending mood and soon I'll meet a woman fair in spandex tights and raven hair.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

tally and keep

Now pause at the entrance to house temple glen and feel for the telltale threshold guardians who stand at the ready who stand at the watch who can and will best-laid plans ruin and botch. They may be invisible to the plain eye and soundless is each of their soft warning cries but that doesn't mean that they've gone off to sleep for records eternal they tally and keep. So stand for a moment and clear out each want and loosen the heart-strings should they be too taut and ask then the watchers to pass unmolested for theirs is a power that cannot be bested. They'll tangle tent tie-downs and foul every mount if you should the rites to them carelessly flout so set down an offering – salt drink or bread – right after you pause there with an emptied head to thank them for keeping the place where you'll rest free of such bad spirits that harm and molest. It just takes a moment for them to approve your need there within them to settle and move; therefore it is wiser to ask their permission and beg for their blessing in heartfelt submission.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

swift merciless clean

We received an invite a solemn request to come join the forces now fighting Daesh. The head of all Syria, Assad, his name, did ask that we help him to remove the stain that spread from the ruins of Saddam's Iraq that threatens us heathens with steady attack. Not far from our borders these terrorists kill and suckle at hatred's most foul-smelling swill and seek to reduce all that's been free of late under an immoral and strict caliphate. They are not real Muslims defend not their home but rather desire to reduce to bone and rubble and dust all they can't comprehend all that their weak egos does seem to offend. We've learned from the Kurds just what frightens them most and that is a well-armed and feminine host who we've now assembled from our defense forces who will head to battle on foot or on horses. They'll march into battle united as one a thousand proud daughters not one single son they'll bring to the front every ounce of their power and hound and abuse Daesh hour by hour. They'll dig attack-tunnels and show Daesh scum the strength of the wily Grigovian woman and tear out his eyeballs and stab out his liver and be hard death-merchants not tender life-givers. Once they are successful we'll send many more to pound at the caliphate's wall fence and door and mock him by singing bright songs from their youth and teaching him Islam's most enduring truth: that to kill an innocent soul body face is to kill every member of the human race that such evil actions do not go unseen but are met with justice swift merciless clean.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

signals and tones

Stuck there in the firmament jagged and vast is a foreign object whose mere presence casts the story of mankind the story of We into much confusion doubt controversy. The Black Knight was spoke of by Tesla The Wise who'd peer to the heavens with augmented eyes who claimed that he heard from it signals and tones which proved that we're not in this quadrant alone. The Ynki they filmed it and Rus he did too this satellite that's neither ancient nor new that flies high above us without pause or spin that sits there like waiting for us to begin to shed our warlike and too-greedy ways and live out in peace-love the rest of our days. Will it soon awaken from its hearty slumber and show us its great and vast technical wonder or will it stay quiet and not move an hair just basking in northern lights and solar flares? There's no one among us who has any answers with a solid theory or a truthful stanza so let's just ignore it a little bit more until its wee aliens pound on the door.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

wisdom-filled scriptures

With bogs full of crawling things fat skinny small and forests of conifers stunted and tall and great rolling deserts much bursting with sand we're proud of the various parts of our land. We work to protect them these strange biotopes our arid flatlands and tree-less alpine slopes our waterfalls running down much-crannied faces our high icy dangerous mountain-top spaces. Please come if you're looking for diversity to pique your abounding curiosity for ours is a nation fit for many pictures that lives but by Nature's own wisdom-filled scriptures. With long-standing customs to celebrate change and landscapes from basin to flatland to range we welcome you kindly and do hope you'll stay for many a fortnight for many a day. From Grig it's a short hike to beautiful sights where we and the tourists do pause for delight so strap on those booties and bring along lunch and set off just solo or in a big bunch. Our high haunting vistas will fill up your soul our low-lying meadows will leave their due toll upon all that you've ever thought to hold dear so come by and visit us – do it this year!

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

for to fulfill

Awash in the splendor of their adulation he marveled at his own tremendous creation. It rose to the heavens his towering spire while much was the outrage and anger and ire of a paltry handful of religious types who bit back their verbiage and swallowed their gripes. Soon after, they sat down to hatch out a plan to return to 'god's sway' their precious homeland for forcing all peoples who did settle there to give up their sciences worldly and fair. From out of the tower came precise predictions about when to plant and some new forms of diction that dealt with the stars and the moon and the sun which quickly infected most everyone. The people they praised all the progress they saw and gathered agape and did gather in awe to which the religious types pulled out more hair and increased their efforts to strangle the air straight out of the beast as they called it together the beast that could better (than they) know the weather. While digging around in the depths of their creed they found a new tool for to fulfill their need to pull down false idols and return to ways that they had been preaching for too many days. Set loose on the people this tool all speech crushed and hither and yon in much panic they rushed these poor simple citizens who'd been much pleased that science could lesson their labor and need. His city in tatters his tower pulled down the man did then flee with his scepter and crown to look for a people who shared his new tongue where he could resume with his research anon. The types of religion they pulled out more hair for they couldn't talk with the people still there could not spread their message of monotheism and did then retreat to their monastic prison to draw up more schemes how to fix what they'd done – oh their's was a true Pyhrric victory won.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

the shimmering haze

She spoke not a whisper but stood there and looked and that simple gesture his knee-bones it shook. Her breast-piece was radiant epaulets too and naught was a nipple stuck there on her boob, and dark was the skin of her body and hair as she leaned in closer to poignantly stare. A fence in between them did keep her within and him on the outside stood there looking in and then she did turn her back letting him see the eyes in wing-clusters – a thousand and three. With nary a movement she was then away but turned back again in the light of non-day to once again meet up with his tracking gaze then once more did move through the shimmering haze. Twice more she appeared little more than a speck whence he did awake with a sweat-sheen bedecked and spoke to his mates born and bread in Bali about the dark angel he'd happened to see. 'She was the house guardian, that's what we think, so watch whom you bed down and watch what you think, and give her an offering, candy perhaps, and clear out all worries from your deep mind-traps, and light her some incense when you your home make and take care the needs of the gods here to slake for their power is such that they'll harm or care for people who in this place to settle dare. Now speak a few words to her and all the others for they are fierce fathers and all-watchful mothers.'

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

madmen to date

Ho Ho who's that calling? It's ISIS / Daesh but they are not bringing a flash Xmas crèche; instead it's that nasty old bringer of death – their old-timey favorite suicide vest. These cunts got their start in a cesspit of hate that has trained up many cruel madmen to date, Bin Laden and Saddam (but they are now gone) and those that threw over the Shah of Iran. Central to its mission are ladies and gents who lack of most true signs of Intelligence – instead they use sick people, lame ones you see, who've relinquished love's long-lasting Agency. Each time it's not different each time it's the same their backstabbing spy-bullshit overthrow game: the Ynki think 'Oh, we don't like that there prez, but this guy will do just what ever we says,' then they fund and train him and all of his mates and duly release them at the palace gates. Trained up to maim torture and not care a shred how many civilians are left lying dead the new cunt then goes in and uses his tools to make Ynki look like a bunch of weak fools. Embezzling billions from his country's riches he (most times) turns loose his foul suicide bitches and flies into buildings some planes that he stole then crawls into a tiny earthen-bound hole. Each time now the Ynki says, 'Oh, who's to blame for that man who brought upon mankind such shame?' without ever looking into a mirror and seeing that he is the cause of such horror. They're probably coming for me as we speak my limbs and my spirit to pummel and break but I say: fuck terrorists of ev'ry stripe you won't steal a wink from my sleepings tonight for I do not fear cuntlings such as you are nor bombs or bugs that you might put in my car but voice my thoughts freely and sovereign too and bid you much failure in all that you do.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

type of terror

With heartbreak and torment they wanted to do the trite type of terror that only they knew. With bomb-vest and rifle with knife caltrop tweet and seeking to rip up society's sheet they woke up that morning and spoke the due rites to all that is Evil both daytimes and nights. With sadness before them and cruelness behind they sat there then brooding all trapped in the mind aloof to the madness that would be their act their thoughts turned to all of the corpses they'd stack. Then off for the market or off for the game they went seeking Islam to slander and shame to murder their victims whose only real crime was being alive at wrong place and wrong time. To counter these madmen with bomb missile round is a policy far from both solid and sound for they can then paint us as murderous apes who blow up things then go back home to eat crepes. A simple solution is to first show love to second stop praying to forces above to third starve their bellies and stop buying oil then fourth maybe put these fools under the soil. With all of the money we've spent making war to now find ourselves with such cunts at our door just shows that our efforts to date weren't true wherefore we'd be wise to go try something new. By opening doors to each poor refugee who flees Daesh violence by land or by sea is to prove to ourselves that we are still kind that we can leave all of our anger behind and then stand together united as one until war and sadness have finally gone.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

a foul fortune

There was a foul fortune that showed up one day but each of us knew it would ruin our day. Its origins shady its true purpose masked yet there in the bright and harsh daylight it basked. A full ton of greenbacks much covered in gore sat there at the stoop of our unvarnished door and reeked to the heavens and caused a small scene yet all of us knew it was too far from clean for us to accept it and spent it on goods so we duly dragged it out back to the woods. We there tried to burn it up far from our yard but were with high treason first sentenced then charged by agents arriving from central D.C. who set about shackling us with howling glee. 'This was some blood-payment, your taxes helped kill, those terrorist madmen who maim and haunt still but since you rejected this money we gave we'll send you all quietly to unmarked graves. You spoke out too oft 'gainst our World War of Terror and that was your final and quite fateful error for yours was agreement both tacit and true that granted our forces the power to do things like bombing hospitals and wedding guests and yes a few madmen in suicide vests. Collateral damage is part of the game and now we will visit upon you the same for you sat there scared in your comfy abode and let us your precious protections erode. The U.S. is fascist and we like it thus and now you will feel the full might of our thrust for we cannot stand by and let you all go your seedlings of doubt hope and thoughtfulness sow. Your neighbors are timid they took the cash in and sat back as we blew up their far-distant kin and turned on the TV and ate up their snacks and cared not if we bombed a few run-down shacks in Yemen or Iraq Niger Pakistan or slaughtered child grandpa or fleeing woman. Your neighbors were smarter than you by a mile just look as they gaze at us with empty smiles for they are fat clueless and good worker bees who kowtow on broken and muddy stained knees whenever we show up to round up dumb fools who criticize such great American tools as rain missiles unseen from skies blue and bright in manners resembling the terrorists' fright. Goodnight then you foolish ones who dared to speak that one time not long ago by a few weeks – your voices forever we extinguish here to prove that our resolve is frightfully clear.' With that we were garroted making no sound and dumped without rites into holes in the ground our home was demolished our memory banned by what was not long ago an honest land.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

high and hidden

Stuck deep in the furrows of some icy crags were small votive offerings bound up in rags. Just who had done placed them up there long ago is to us a mystery but we now know the form of the offerings what they resemble as with patient diligence we disassembled reach tightly-bound package each tiny wrapped thing that's been well-protected from harsh weathering. The first is a man-shape the second a fox the third is bird in a small wooden box the fourth is an arrow the fifth is a snare for catching small game such as weasel or hare. With patterns and writing they are decorated and their deep importance cannot be inflated for they are as old as the oldest of traces that mankind has left in high and hidden spaces. We'll study these totems with photon x-ray but not let them sit in the harsh light of day and after we've probed them and measured their stuff they will be returned to their rocks cold and gruff. We'd rather they sit there than in a glass cage so that they'll protect us again through this age of conflict and sadness of war famine blight that threatens to dampen mankind's shining light. We thank our fore-bearers who hid them on high and promise much harder to labor and try to end war and anger to end poverty to spread hope and love to him you her and he.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

America (kinda) apologizes

At a sparsely-attended ceremony held among the dying stalks of the White House's rose garden, American president Mr. Barack H. Obama delivered an apology, of sorts. 'Here, today, the United States of America, this great nation, wants to apologize to all the countries that, since the late 1800s, we have invaded, bombed, or otherwise tramped upon unceremoniously, primarily to protect corporate interests headquartered in but not necessarily paying taxes to the United States, of America. These nations include but are not limited to Nicaragua, Iraq, Honduras, Cuba, the Philippines, Mexico, Russia, Angola, Laos, Cambodia, Japan, and of course Vietnam. Look, we're sorry for killing untold millions of your people and making off with millions of tons of your resources, but we needed it. OK? We needed to spill your blood so that the folks making weapons here back home would be able to work. To put food on the table. To keep their kids in shoes and coats. And we needed your oil, your bananas, your rubber, your sugar, everything you had then and might still have, and we will probably need it again, tomorrow or the next day, because with the economic system we have in place now, our people are used to paying prices kept cheap by the constant threat and very real application of violence, and all that stuff we take from you gets thrown into landfills after people have used it maybe just once or twice, and then we go out and get more of it instead of designing a system that is closed and self-supporting, one in which consumer products are designed to be reused, and recycled, over and over again.

'But if we find out you have something we didn't know we needed, something we suddenly cannot live without, we're going to come right back in and cluster-bomb your cities, wipe out your infrastructure, and then take from our own people the money needed to pay independent contractors who charge us exorbitant sums to go in and rebuild all the stuff we just got finished blowing up. Do y'all see how this cycle works? Is it clear to you now? Oh, and nothing we do is wrong, and no amount of hardship or torment we inflict upon you is illegal or will cause me, or anyone else from America, to have to go in front of the International Criminal Court in Den Haag, because, well, because whatever we do is right, and true, and necessary. Because we're the shining beacon on the hill, the one place on Earth that is allowed to punish and kill others for doing exactly what we do, what we have been doing, and what we will continue to do, without fear of retribution, or justice. And things are only going to get worse – with global climate change kicking into high gear, many of our homegrown corporations controlling much of the world's supply of potable water, and the desertification of various regions throughout Africa and the Middle East now causing waves of immigrants to flood north, into Europe, America's vast military might and relative geographic isolation will ensure our survival, or at least the survival of those Americans rich enough to buy and outfit land in the mountains of Alaska, where rising sea levels and warming temperatures won't affect them much, Americans well-connected enough not to be rounded up by our jackbooted and militarized police forces and sent to live out the rest of their pitiable lives starving in federal concentration camps already in place across these fifty States. So, yeah, we're sorry for all the bad stuff we did in the past, but that's nothing compared to what is coming. I've seen the plans, and I know just how truly shitty it's going to get for you all in the years to come. So buck up, you weak chumps, because you ain't seen nothing, yet.'

(This article is fiction; it should not be taken as a factual representation of the opinions of any member of the American government.)

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

dim-shadow koboldt

The dim-shadow koboldt is known for mischief for lifting a pocket or silk handkerchief. He waits at such crossroads as are poorly lit to pilfer and raid from a passerby's kit. He flits now from this now to that darkened spot and cannot be injured by curse or flung shot but always pops up again where least expected to abscond with things left too long unprotected. Fear not though ye wise ones who have sacrificed a coin or a flower or such modest tithe at one of the altars of kindly Vi'n'nya whose shelter is constant whose gaze travels far. Her white flowing robes will chase off ev'ry thief who wishes to make off with your's in his teeth but never do turn to catch of her a glimpse for hers is a countenance not made for wimps. The dim-shadow koboldt he knows this he does and would rather munch on cast-off linty fuzz than stand up and face her or look in her eye wherefore at her coming he to his lair flies. So next time you're traveling do stop a wink at one of her alters and there pause to think and lay down a small thing it's not much she needs to keep your path clear of those miscreant thieves.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

vapid and wild

From deep in our borders a strength does arise that against the forces of all darkness flies. It comes from the throats of man woman and child in warblings berserker shrill vapid and wild and sends many shivers down every spines of anyone who dares to cross o'er our lines. We stand independent from Ynki and Rus from enemies flagrant and those yet obtuse and ours is a mighty earth-shattering cry for we to the last man will throe fight and die. So heed ye this warning and meddle ye less in matters that are not your own business all foreign invaders much bent on empire who dare cross our sparsely-manned east or west wire. For we in Grigovia care for our own and want not for conflict that's financed or sown by shadowy figures from 'burg 'ville 'gorod who upon our sovereignty do seek to trod. We'll take in refugees from the Ynki wars and store them behind our own familys' doors but will not stand idly without due reply when cruel foreign devils our freedoms espy.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

call and chase

In high wooden timbers there live many creaks and they have been at it for thousands of weeks. They squeak and they shudder they won't go away they sound out their presence from night-time to day they aren't going nowhere so best never ponder from whence they did come from whence they did wander. To ease their shrill speakings best set out a plate of honey and water upon a heat-grate and watch as this mixture does soothe all their wants and lessen their burdens of their homely haunts. Or live with them peacefully hoping they'll call and chase away many a weak sickly pall for they have been known with their talking to ease most any a phlegm-filled rheumatic disease. Keep you right on creaking we welcome you here and laugh when you tickle and thrust at the ear you creaks in the attic you creaks on the stair – huzzah for all creakings most everywhere!

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

take the piss

The sprite her long fingers they do seldom miss yet all she doth want is for to take the piss. She'll take it from women and take it from men and then turn right back around and take it again. Her aim is to learn how to tell funny tales about foolish humans and elusive whales but all of her thieving has just been a waste that leaves a few yellow stains up on her face. She'll keep on piss-taking and struggling though the ways of us humans to study and know and hers is a turbulent and stinky wake as long as she's chasing that wily piss-take.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

pixies and tricksy

The miners were braver than most of the rest for they ev'ry day-round would give it their best. Despite many pixies and tricksy cobalt that labored their labors to hamper and fault the men in their hard-hats the men with their picks would pry precious morsels that in rock-veins stick. Then women came working to make up the balance when in our harsh wartimes were needed the talents of strong bulging muscles and engineer-wit to get our small nation back out of the shit. Then many young ladies did learn of the stuff that gives people rock-smart and elbow-grease guff and they left for fronts to our west and our east the horrors of combat to lessen and ease. They fought in the trenches and dug a few more and helped then win every subsequent war and mix with the laddies still unto this day when it's time for war-games to pick up and play.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

jawbones and ears

His name was John Rainbow he was a crack ace and always wore a vest always carried mace. His MO was simple – to shoot first then query to never think twice to leave up to chance every roll of the dice and his foul appearance was nothing but scary. He wore not a top-hat but a scarlet ribbon that screamed, “I am man-thing not baboon or gibbon” and kept many trophies of jawbones and ears and long was the toil of his warlike years. But then past his zenith he went into hiding yet always kept weapons dug into the siding and under his toilet and behind the stairs and had many manner of curious wares. From each of the countries he'd been to they came and were with the blood of his enemies stained and there in his trophy room sat the grand piece: the horns of a demon set in golden fleece. He'd wear it while hunting big game but not man for he had been shown a more peaceful-like plan that involved his cunning and all of his wits and henceforth he always made all of his hits. New trophies did stack up of chipmunk and rhino of bears black and bears brown and bears full albino but hunting men still was foremost in his mind so he left the civil life way far behind and went back to work in the gunslinging racket with only a small knife and his leather jacket. For ISIL Al-Qaeda and many such others he worked killed mothers sons daughters and others. IS didn't differ from his erstwhile bosses and he among madmen was once more Colossus.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

her blessed home

She stood in the clearing of a wooded glen and marveled at bush rock vine tree flower fen. Such colors did greet her as she'd never seen and shadows did dance there about in between the big soaring redwoods the small tiny sprouts and leap did her heart-beat and silently shout. She'd found it her homestead her small verdant vale and all of the others before it did pale and all of her wanderings then there bore fruit for her old worries were suddenly moot. With a few blows she quick secured her tent then to the task of a fire she bent safe in the confines of her blessed home far from the worries and burdens she'd known.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

honor to burn

Their clamor of squawking and anger did rise when they heard that she had cracked open her thighs. It was not their business to be so concerned or with their foul rumors her honor to burn or with their foul talking to tarnish her name but that was their boring, too-often-played game. So duly they gathered to spittle and heave and repeat the lies that they'd come to believe and question her virtue and puff themselves up and call her tramp hooker whore harlot and slut. They were a rank stupid and venomous bunch and on some cold hatred they'd happily lunch then take it back home and then vent it on they who in darkened pantries would hide everyday. One morning they gathered to hash out and spit all of their new stories and much old bullshit but then the young maiden whom they did despise came walking right to them and stared in their eyes. 'I love you all dearly,' she said with due calm to which they reacted with fear and alarm but she did continue with words soft and true and merely just stand there was all they could do. 'I've heard all the rumors you've spread about me and that you think I should just pick up and leave but I will not do that for I've not done wrong despite what you say to all who come along. I love you regardless and thank you for talking and will now keep going on my morning's walking and hope you will keep spinning your hateful tales of my fleshy weakness and my moral ails.' With that the young lady did venture away and done were the lies if only for that day – for hatred needs more than a few loving words for it to be flushed out with the other turds.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

local addict hooked on O2

Despite years of effort dedicated to breaking a lifelong addiction, unemployable local fiend Eroll T. Whitscomb remains hooked on oxygen. “I like inhaling it out here, in the open,” said the subject while standing and breathing deeply in a meadow not far from his home. “To me, it doesn't matter who or how many people tell me I need to quit – by now, my body really and truly needs it. God, once it hits your lungs, it's so good.” Mr. Whitscomb by no means struggles alone, said Dr. Alice R. Ushanginahi, head of addiction studies at the University of Southern Washington, U.S.A. “Every human being alive today is in some form or another addicted to oxygen. In fact, unless a person receives a dose of this chemical every two or three minutes, he or she will experience brain-death, and die.” Compared to food, or water, oxygen is apparently indispensable to a long and healthy life, and inhaling too little of it – due largely to bad posture – quickly causes the oxygen addict to become angry, impatient, and downright boorish. “We've studied countless cases in which individuals ruined social engagements and damaged interpersonal relationships just because their bodies weren't getting enough of the chemical upon which they'd allowed themselves to get hooked,” said Dr. Ushanginahi, who is herself addicted to the chemical. On the street, this drug is known as oh-too. “The most readily available and cheapest way to cure this addiction is, to my knowledge, suicide.” For more information about the addictive nature of oxygen – a free radical that damages the human body and speeds its decay by causing the iron molecules present in the bloodstream to rust – please visit www.urshitoutofluck.com or www.ifurbreathingurbelieving.com

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

to Cerberus's jaws

Aloof to the burden of thinking and thought he knew not the horror and sadness he'd wrought. Without ever asking for a by-your-leave he went steady forward sans hope of reprieve for all of the people whom he had abused lived off of sucked dry harried spat on and used. His path it was steady his step never strayed and naught but the urge of his greed he obeyed and naught but the need of his ego he knew which was a black cold sour and bloody stew. It wasn't 'til lying there on his death-bed that with a foreboding and a sense of dread he honored the fault and the wrong of his ways and wished he could go back to his younger days and speak to himself with tones soothing and true but there he lay dying and nothing could do. Therefore keep the ego as small as can be and turn to the timelessness of the life-tree and eat of her fruit-fall and drink of her sap and lay aside lust want and other such crap for all of one's actions do sound without pause from dear mother's womb-hold to Cerberus's jaws.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

vanish and cease

The miles ticked by and his muscles did hold and he would keep moving lest sweat made him cold. His steed was another's that he'd borrowed when his own mount was stolen from a downtown fen. The sun on his skin and the wind in his hair reminded this whorphan both sullied and fair that his was a path unlike most others take that his was a fortune and a name to make. With fleet wheels inflated and well-applied grease his troubles and worries did vanish and cease as he made his way from one side to the next of this vast wide beautiful bright metroplex.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

out a mew

A town in the making is well on its way where a mix of locals and refugees stay. We've planned all its contours to make it so that one can walk across in a half hour flat. There are but few roadways for a motor car, the rest they are made of stone pavers – not tar. The housing won't be more than four stories tall and gets much warm sunshine in winter and fall in the warmer months though it stays nice and cool and there are a number of small public pools. Such shops as one needs for to lead a good life sell foodstuff cloth hat shoe toothpaste soap and knife; they will accept barter or labor for goods will swap rice for garments or hand-tools for wood. To live there one must join a soviet crew to clean up a meadow or rake out a mew to maintain the sewage or help raise a barn to learn how to entertain with a spun yarn. A third of the people who'll live in this town escaped from such countries as war has torn down; two thirds are Grigovians gentle and kind who hold an humanity first in the mind. This is an experiment but we believe that with it we'll provide a welcome reprieve to people from within and those from without who have for too long yearned for such a redoubt. So come have a gander and do stay a while be ready to work and to wear a big smile for ours is a mixing pot crazy and real yet we all believe it's a pretty good deal.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

all any means

The Yaelong hold power their reach it is long their family systems are tight-meshed and strong. Long ago we'd quarrel o'er land and resources but quickly did learn to combine our small forces into some quick response and some quick action teams who crush all intruders by various means. Their guerrilla tactics we've much added to combining in lessons from Ho Chi Minh too and also from Mao and from Rommel to boot wherefore primed and ready is this armed offshoot. In truth though it makes up the bulk of our guard yet only emerges as a high trump card to mop up the damage done unto such fools who eschew good company's longstanding rules. From trench and from cupola alley and ditch with blood whipped up into a mad fever-pitch will every man woman child et ceterum stand up for to expel from home hearth and womb such Ynki Rus Kossak or Turkmeni brute who should dare on our precious soil set foot. Grigovian weapons and that Yaelong guile should help us keep hold on our freedom a while – for lest we get bombed out like the Nips once got there's nothing can move us from this awesome spot.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

approaching 7 figures

Los Angeles, CA 28 July 2015

Shirleigh Ratchthwana, former war-crimes prosecutor and current head of Public Relations for the Los Angeles County Museum of Art (LACMA), denounced today the destruction of priceless cultural artifacts within a stone's throw of the museum's main entrance. “We regularly watch as groups of vandals deputized to their duty by the City of Los Angles (City) strip layers of art from our town's various walls, sign-posts, and switching boxes – daily and without relent. Examples of this art include stickers en collage or solo, pasted-up paper pieces, and those that are sprayed-on. By its actions and those of its deputies, City demonstrates an alarming lack of appreciation for such art as it presides over, regardless if that art should hang in a gallery or on a street corner.” Art that happens to be located in public, or street art, is created by daring and talented individuals who risk fines and abuse if caught in the act of application. Pieces by the most famous modern graffitos can fetch sums approaching 7 figures. Fundamentally human in its chaotic and spontaneous nature, street art – graffiti – is one of mankind's oldest documented yet least hallowed forms of artistic expression. Whether in the walls of Teotihuacan and Giza or the ruins of Stonehenge and Sumer, the scratches and scribbles of a million faceless graffiti-writers bridge the gaps of time.

“We stand now witness to a great extinction,” said Dr. Horatio B. Gherrt, professor of art history at Harvard's Schoullenbarg School for Contemporary Art. “This extinction, however, this mass die-off, is not of beast but of beauty, not of aardvark or antelope but of art itself. A solitary artist working by herself would take months – even years, or never – to create such pieces of perfectly blended chaos, such though-evoking combinations of logo, typeface, cultural icon, and slogan – old and new, obscure and obvious, crude and tender. Yet such collages spring into being on otherwise unadorned and publicly-accessible spaces virtually overnight and completely free of charge to the city, which then expends resources to scrape them down or cover them in dull, gray paint.”

With municipalities across the world continuing to criminalize the application of street art and refusing to recognize its value and beauty, the future still looks bleak for artists who follow the ancient human urge to mark their passage with note or scrawl (but without a by-your-leave). “So long as there are people, there will be graffiti,” said Ms. Ratchthwana. “Instead of simply destroying things they don't understand, we hope that City leaders will soon treat street art as they would treat a Van Gogh painting or Ming-era vase – as part and parcel of mankind's cherished cultural legacy, something that deserves to be protected.” City declined to comment for this article.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

quick magical slide

Uncanny and welcoming hectic and vast is road-grid and heart of this city of class. Los Angeles friendo is where it is at where fortunes can change at the drop of a hat where a simple gesture can upset the tides and time does a fluid quick magical slide. Its highways and ocean its palm trees and dust its holy points one time to visit one must and bow to the fault-lines deep down and above that threaten with shaking yet embrace with love. It's fine to be back but there's not much left here that I haven't witnessed before through the years so where does that leave one who roams far and wide? To find within truth and to find it inside...

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

in this spot

Our ruins are open to visit this week – come by for a glimpse and come by for a peek. With houses aplenty both restored and not you'll learn how our ancestors lived in this spot and lived without waste want or much luxury and lived so much simpler than you or than me. In stone water-channels they brought in their drink with others they led away waste-water's stink and erected stout walls to keep foes at bay and erected store rooms for grain and for hay. They had more than one cult and one ritual indeed many of them did not pray at all yet lived out their in peaceful co-living that was one of sharing and kindness and giving. No house was much larger than the one next door and most of them had but a single ground-floor but some of them boasted a bin in the roof for making food storage both rain- and rat-proof. There's tons more to learn here in this our town so stop for a visit if you are around and sample the recipies used way back when – we're sure you will come back again and again.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

Berber of birth

There's told of a wanderer Berber of birth who came to Grigovia spreading his mirth. He also spread Islam that still lives today but which we here practice in much our own way without dire enforcement of too many rules while still making use of its fine social tools. Yibin al Ba'huttah was the wise man's name, from far to the West of the sunset he came to share bizarre stories of lands set in snow and that place to which Muslim faithful must go. His goal was an empire far from our own (which he did call Qinku'ha) to make there his home and serve as a minister under its king and share with him ritual knowledge and teaching. If he ever made it we now do not know but were much heartbroken to then see him go in search of warm climates and fortune and glory that man who so brashly wrote his own life-story.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

wraiths are dumb

The wraith said not sorry and said not goodbye but fled through a crack in the roof of the sty and made like the dickens for its yonder grave and set its mind working like wood on a lathe. Its plans they were finished in one minute flat for it could not ponder much longer than that and fled back outside its old master to seek in a shadowed tree and by a muddy creek. Its master it found not and soon did not know just why it had ventured out over the snow to float through a landscape it no longer knew but oh well those wraiths are dumb – what can one do?

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

find happiness with

To celebrate victory in Ynkiland we break out the bubbly and strike up the band. For too long have all people there in the place lived under the jackboot of hatred for race and hatred for they who prefer the same sex – after this achievement what shall follow next? Will people of darker skin-tones than some others be treated as neighbors as sisters and brothers or will they still be sent to rot in dark cells in cruel private prisons in tightly-cramped hells? We ended our drug war in 1980 and now treat our addicts compassionately and now all our people all Grigovians can make up their own weekend drug-using plans without undue concern their doors will be smashed by mummified officers angry and brash. Huzzah for the homos – a battle they've won – and can now get married to most anyone who agrees to find joy and find happiness with other vagina with other penis. We'd made legal and normal long long ago the tendency of some of us to 'homo' indeed we passed laws back in 1905 that has kept selfsame-love healthy and alive. Well done then, Americans, but do not rest for this is the first of just many more tests to see if you can join the ranks of such nations that choose to make not war but love-celebrations.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

an hypnotic daze

The swell of the century does sound its call and all of us surfers come hither enthralled to stare at the beauty of the pounding waves to dare to wade out in an hypnotic daze. This isn't a lie here it's not a tall tale about those Grigovian high-mountain vales so please do just skip this one, give me a pass, forgive my glaring and base lack of class. The surfboard is mounted the gas-tank is full and such is the majestic incessant pull of those big-old breakers there pounding the sand that I will now bring this here piece to an end.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

plenty of ten

A garrisoned plenty of ten to fifth men does overwatch city and mountain and fen. Its weapons are wily its purpose is clear – to guard us from enemies foreign and near. Its symbols are ancient its rites they are true its colors are ocher green and a light blue for all such harm-seekers it does lie in wait from bright early morning to dark even late. Now join you this plenty now pledge you thine arm to keep from Grigovia threat worry harm to protect the homeland and keep us all free – huzzah for the Plenty of Ten and Fifty.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

our cities dense

To make ourselves ready for the coming storms has our central government enacted norms to sharpen Grigovians' due self-defense from single farm-havens to our cities dense. We must stand together to counter the drive of corporate powers who consume alive both nations and regions nay entire lands and back up with arms their capitalist plans. The ore in the soil the fish in the sea belong to all peoples to you him and me and shall not be used up to make a few rich and shall not be stolen by some greedy bitch. For next they'll steal sunlight and oxygen too and charge us for using both voice and mind too and squeeze us of life-force and enslave our kin unless we bind together to conquer these men. Too long has this people lived freely anon to now just retreat before battle is won wherefore we now rise up and duly proclaim: Our land is our business say you no more or tempt us to sell ourselves like we were whores or get us to give up our long-standing claim to life free of cruel and imperial stains; For we as a people will not just lie flat and give what is ours to men already fat – we'll gladly share with anyone who's in need but will not engender to support the greed of they who've big houses in many a land who kneel to the Ynki and his evil plans; So leave now these borders and come you no more and dare not to darken the jam of this door for we are quite happy to live out our lives like any old normal and regular guys; So take your grand scheming and scurry away and do not awaken this dragon today and test not our iron cold and proven will lest you your own life-blood are willing to spill.

​© americanifesto / 場黑麥

distant and far

All else being equal the balance they sought was by hidden perils both hampered and fraught. A mountain of mischief stood there in their path and deep was the impending terrible wrath of all of the agencies that they had spurned who then had to rebuild the bridges they'd burned. So hated and despised was this tiny group that it could not hope any costs to recoup and therefore decided to just up and leave and seek somewhere else its long-sought-for reprieve. It found shelter and many welcoming arms in our fine Grigovian houses and farms where they then lived simply and without worry and let their dear children explore in the trees. The homes that they found here have been proven strong which most of us knew from the start all along and now our dear brothers and sisters they are who came from a dark land both distant and far.

​© americanifesto / 場黑麥

friend patron kin

She'd left in a steamer off to the Far East where one of her aunts a plantation had leased. Upon her arrival there in that far place did she get a healthy and quite sudden taste of life in a country where she'd never been where she'd few connections to friend patron kin. As soon as her feet set down on that dark soil there was a sharp outcry from all those who toiled but were not well paid for their labors or time whereupon they rioted in their work-lines. The young lass did hurry away from the port as soon as she heard the rifle's sharp retort and witnessed the marching of colony troops whose bayonets glinted as did their black boots. She fled through the city and into a slum and was there more foreign than most anyone except for an old crone who savvied her plight and gave her somewhere to bed down for the night. The next day the city lay sorely abused while still brightly smoldered the stevedores' fuse and our pretty heroine soon understood that things in that colony were less than good. On reaching her relatives she was well met and told them no longer to worry or fret and told them she'd be heading back into town to help and assist they whose friendship she'd found. She'd then soon established a home for the sick and endured some beatings with long bamboo-sticks for her brash involvement in worker affairs by old and fat white men both baffled and scared that there was a Western girl out in the heat whose actions and rhetoric them would unseat. The workers won finally a few cents more and steeled themselves to head to battle once more and win Independence from their foreign masters and call themselves free men happily e'er after.

​© americanifesto / 場黑麥

non-royal fam

The house of our abdicant non-royal fam is focused on helping build shelters and dams not increasing riches or waltzing about while kids in this world still go to sleep without. They live in apartments quite modest in size like any old cluster of regular guys like any old troupe gang army murder clan from this side of Nowhere to Afghanistan. We thank them for staying here within our fen and taking our cause up again and again and fighting for us here in Grigovia for arbor vox populi et patria. All their fine castles now house works of art and all of their efforts do twinge at the heart and buoy the spirit and make the hairs rise so lift up those features and open those eyes; tomorrow is a myth as is yesterday and all of one's life is just now and today.

​© americanifesto / 場黑麥

noble and staid

With all the grains planted and growing anon the goddess of Springtime felt her labors done. Retiring her now-empty cornucopia she fled back to her peak high o'er Grigovia and sat there to look down as babe and wheat sprouted and all of mankind her great skillfulness touted. She had but a week or two (in Goddess Time) to rest her bones and drink some flagons of wine before she'd fly back to the Earth-Plains of Man to watch over new lives that in Fall began. She sat therefore silent and still as a rock her mouth it did but breathe and seldom did talk until it was her time to head off again back down to the rolling and now-verdant fen. Her course can be seen by us mortals below who look at the heavens when falling stars show the glinting of her long and golden white hair as she quick descends from that tall Heaven's Stair. We welcome her coming give thanks her for aid and honor her countenance noble and staid and build her an altar of twig and flower at each all and every new-baby shower.

​© americanifesto / 場黑麥

going right away

All made up in dress and bow she made to men her presence know by falling from the tallest stair with not a ruffle in her hair. There she stood and met their gazing short and pert and most amazing tough and ready for the day to get on going right away. Though her dress was torn and ripped the maiden did not give a drip for she was bruised from head to toe and let not once her anguish show. Long they'd talk about her action long would last their deep attraction for the one who'd had a fall at her own sweet débutante's ball.

​© americanifesto / 場黑麥

tidy but filling

The maiden was comely and hid in a bush and would not dare leave it until hunger pushed and pulled her back into the open again where she would then hunt in dale valley and fen. With skills well-developed she stacked the pelts high then dried and then tanned them under open skies then sold them at night to a woman she knew who lived in the manner of a barren shrew. To the comely maiden it changed not a thing for she and the woman would sit down and sing and share with each other tall tales of the past as well as a tidy but filling repast. Then on the next morrow the pelts would be sold to some local tradesmen both cunning and bold who'd venture up to the old woman's hovel and barter with her using foodstuff or shovel. One time the skilled maiden chose to stick around and hid in the bushes there on the shrew's grounds and spied her some man-flesh and soon became smitten and dropped as she ran away one of her mittens. A tradesman did find it and wondered aloud what sort of wee creatures were stirring about to which the old woman did respond in kind and mentioned the maiden with whom she oft dined. The tradesman went searching and spied him the lass and thought her stout build was of the finest class and bade the old woman to help the two meet in a morning meeting both swift and discreet. The woman invited the maiden to dine and broke out a bottle of her finest wine and left in the cottage the maiden alone then sent in the tradesman his heart filled with stone. The two hit it off though and soon became wed and rumpled the sheets of their marital bed and wandered the high plains hand-in-hand together and while making babies still crafted fine leather.

​© americanifesto / 場黑麥

up and raked

The serpentine structures do extend for miles are composed of heaped up and raked gravel piles that once served a purpose which we now don't know which only a few airborne surveys might show. The surveys conducted in previous times did reveal some tightly meandering lines that seem to observers with computer armed to reveal some secrets but not all their charm. Perhaps they were causeways for carrying goods perhaps they were once lined with pillars of wood perhaps they were used in bright ceremonies so that priests their treasures could transport with ease. We'll likely not ever know for sure the reason our ancestors spent all those ages and seasons constructing these structures from stone and rock-fall so we'll just go look at and measure it all.

​© americanifesto / 場黑麥​

foes to clean

From deep in the caves of our dear capital come many a manner of full-throated yell. It's Springtime and therefore our committees meet to plan for defending our borders and streets from outside incursion by rank enemy whose aim is to take from us our Liberty. Far down in the cellars which join into one are all types of citizens – man and woman, teenager and greybeard – they're anarchists who hold self to account for all things that they do. They come and go freely, do drugs as they please, avoid saying Bless You when one of them sneeze, will stand up together and fight as a team in order this country of its foes to clean. Their meetings are raucous and lengthy affairs can only be reached via some hidden stairs can be infiltrated by all passers-by who are not concerned that their shoes should stay dry. With caches of weapons in good working order these fighters will die on our farthest-flung border to keep out invaders from our precious land – you too can come join up and make valiant stand 'gainst Ynki Rus Uzbek and anyone else for there is no challenge can cause us to melt.

​© americanifesto / 場黑麥

hunting and light

Revered for his wisdom and fertility is our gentle goddess named Daiyana'hi. She carries a quiver slung down at her waist and hers is a comely yet beautiful face and her things are childbirth and hunting and light to drive away hunger and impending night. A sister to Others who watch us below with healthy exertion her cheeks tend to glow she protects the fate of this our human race by protecting mothers with vigilant grace. Often depicted with a stag nearby she wanders green meadows and tall mountains high and shelters such persons who might lose their way and keeps them protected until light of day. Born to the Old-Father and his second wife her goal is to nurture all newly-born life and see to the success of hunting for food within her beloved expanses of wood. So come light a candle and say a short word to fair Daiyana'hi and her antlered herd and go take a walk in her forests and such and thank now the goddess who loves us so much.

​© americanifesto / 場黑麥

a starlight dance

The grass does blow gently with onset of Spring and in their deep burrows the small owls sing. The skies they are ribboned with clouds wispy white and small things crawl to and fro morning and night. Some small trees are growing where more moisture falls close by golden sandstone lofty canyon walls now providing shelter for small antelope while under them tough creepers spread splay and grope. The moon is a crescent hung low in the sky the bats from their hideouts now drop from on high and all things are peaceful even desert-cat whose outlines are pregnant with thick Summer fat. The rains have been coming quite regularly they bring forth much green on bush grass-clump and tree so sit back now relax and drink it all in for soon enough a starlight dance will begin.

​© americanifesto / 場黑麥

ranks are swelled

Our borders pose refuge for all who must flee regardless of origin or enemy. We house them in our homes not outside in shacks nor ghettos nor abandoned apartment tracts. We believe in all humans' deep dignity that people contain more than you or I see that they are most righteous who are gave hope to drag themselves back up a slippery slope. Now our ranks are swelled with man woman and child come in from the dark and cold in from the wild they are now our brothers and our sister too we teach them the tricks that our grandmothers knew. They marry our siblings and start families of laughter and joy frolicked under the trees and fight with against the forces without that seek our high stronghold to harass and rout. Come one and all 'fugees come quickly anon and start a new future here under our sun and find hope once more in the love we've to give for here in our bosom a good life you'll live.

​© americanifesto / 場黑麥

on falling stars

There was then a loud and ear-shattering hum that rendered onlookers mute blind deaf and dumb. Its contrails were many its features were bright it lit up the ink-dark and foreboding night it slashed through the heavens then burrowed below while throwing up mountains of peat-moss and snow. Long after it settled it burbled and hissed; the next day its resembled an onyx schist; when prodded however it made a dull sound right there in its hole in the thick frozen ground. None knew what to make of this fallen body but from all around many came it to see to touch and to feel it to ponder its skin to wonder what might still be hidden within. A wall was built 'round it a roof of wood beams to channel the oncoming pilgrimage streams to preserve the beauty of this fallen rock that once caused such panic and wonder and shock. It is still preserved in the Shrine to the Sky so please come and visit yourself to espy this well-preserved meteor down where it lays since back in those spell-bound and woebegone days.

​© americanifesto / 場黑麥

hither and fro

Our nomads still wander the Steppes in the south still living the ancient way – from hand to mouth. They drive herds of ungulates hither and fro and just where they'll rest tonight no one can know; their numbers are stable and healthy to boot for they eat leaf bug goat-meat soil and root. They'll cover a league or two every day their children know labor as well as some play they teach them to sew cook tend livestock and guard they teach them that life must not ever be hard. Their cousins the Yaelong were once nomads too but they chose to stay where the best foodstuffs grew and gave up their roaming and pastoral ways and moved into tree-forts and hollows and caves. With luck you can spot you a nomad or two but strap on some sturdy and good walking shoes for they do not wait for the tourist who lags or fiddles with his many camera bags. So come now come quickly and learn of their ken spend time with their wise elders women and men rejoice in their freedom wanderlust and skill in in dusty valley up on barren hill.

​© americanifesto / 場黑麥

far deadlier foe

With peat-bogs aplenty and mountains of sand we've tons of resources in this tiny land to fuel all our fires and built such contraptions as do many bigger more powerful nations. Our mountains yield coal copper gold and platin in deep and rich lodes and in thick running seams but such paltry trinkets and their fleeting sums do pale when compared to our daughters and sons. In their hearts and minds burns amor patria – a love for this nation of Grigovia – which won't be extinguished by water or wind which none of them have plans to ever rescind. We've beaten off waves of Rus Mongol and Hun although their massed arrows did blot out the sun and they tried a way in to trick and to buy but soon did roll over to perish and die. Now there is another far deadlier foe whose tricks tools and talents still brutally grow who claims he is fighting for Liberty but whose wheels are just spinning in deep bloody ruts. The Ynki is cunning and greedy to boot he's rendered the standards of compassion moot he's sent out his forces to conquer the Earth while his chubby denizens wallow in mirth. We won't let him split our defenses asunder or punish our citizens with rolling thunder but rather we'll join him in battle should he decide ever to force us onto our knees.

​© americanifesto / 場黑麥

clear clouded mind

Her face is a whiteness that hangs in the sky and dark is the inky expanse that she plies. Her countenance waxes her countenance wanes in some women she causes internal pains in some persons her pull awakens such passions as leads them to behave in strange crazy fashion. As long as we humans have thought dreamed and spoken has her lasting mystery within us woken such dazzling fantasies as one might find within a wild lunatic's clear clouded mind. Lift up the gaze and turn it toward the moon for hers is a bountiful beautiful boon – for without her drawings there would be no tide and life on this planet would have too soon died.

​© americanifesto / 場黑麥

wellspring of joy

There is an old discipline taught in this land that makes use of mind foot will focus and hand. It's shared with but a few who come from without and helps one to conquer fear torment and doubt and helps one to find in the depths of the self the wellspring of joy purpose calm peace and health. Its name can't be mentioned its outlines are vague it cannot be hampered by sickness or plague it cannot be grasped after confined or caught – all efforts to know it with peril are fraught. It is both internal and external too it ignites the passions yet tempers them too and with it ones learns to be always aware to lessen emotions and soften one's glare. If it must be named then these names should suffice: Tatag'eh, Tatag, or maybe The Rule of Thrice; for three are its tenets its tenets are three and they are love mercy and humility. Its one central focus is stilling the mind and leaving memory and sadness behind and learning to stay in the Here and the Now and learning one's own fertile basin to plow. To control the self and not others is key to living in blessed long-lived harmony with The Great Unnameable Vast Mystery and its many vassals we can't hear or see. The monks of this order are few but well-placed and of many sexes and many a race and move through this world leaving very few traces but filled with such wonder as once filled the Graces. To join in this movement come search out a sage and watch her emerge from humanity's cage then delve into wonder sat there by her side and let go of honor want anger and pride. Our gates they stand open to all those who wander without ever moving from here there or yonder so come when you're ready and stay for a while to learn to live life filled with soft yielding smiles.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

bridle and tame

She knew how to whisper and how to give thanks and where help was needed on the most far flanks. Her gaze it was piercing but then also kind and sharp was the thrust of the point of her mind and soft was her hand helping a fallen foe and quick was her pace through sand mudflat or snow. Her role in repelling the attacking Hun saw to it that quickly such battles were won as then led to victory in our campaign to live our lives peacefully now and again. Her patroness was she whose home is the arena – our proud and our mighty own Nuuzstathena – whose actions are virtuous righteous and just though she may be covered in gore and road-dust. Now join in our efforts to drive out the foe whose outlines and habits we already know whose stars and whose stripes are the chains of oppression who must be forthwith taught an enduring lesson. His fingers do meddle in many a pie so we must confront him from tunnel to sky and remind his people that Freedom comes not to those who abandon the lessons they're taught. So join in resisting the power whose aim is Liberty's chaos to bridle and tame and stand now for something or stand not at all now rise up and answer ye patriots all.

​© americanifesto / 場黑麥

the meandering Yalung

The river meanders from high mountain dales down into these verdant and soft-rolling vales. Its banks they are lined with all manner of plant as it back and forth now does happen to cant; its ripples are gentle its flow brings the soil to grow us our bounty and lessen our toil. As soon as a seed is sunk into the earth a strong striving seedling springs suddenly forth and quickly does grow into a healthy stalk within which we stroll run meander and walk. For along the Yalung are paths and roadways upon which a person can wander for days or weeks months and years long without ever leaving unless one should suffer from lack of good breathing. Its liquids are pure clean and nutrient-rich they are home to insects toads and many fish they are safe for drinking so fill up a glass and drink it all down with much relish – not fast. The snow-melt that feeds it makes it mighty cold as it winds its way all throughout this here vold and when it then flows out to lands not our own it is just as clean as the day it was born. So help us protect this holy water source; help us make it better not dirty or worse by using such products as don't pollute it by composting food-waste and cleaning up shit. Together we'll pass to the children still small a land that does blossom from Springtime to Fall while teaching them stewardship of all they've got and improving this our dear and common lot.

​© americanifesto / 場黑麥

five angry cats

Her five angry cats and flock of barren hens all made the old lady to ponder just when she'd give in and sell the farm that had remained so long in her family's lackluster name. For men had come calling not to ask for her hand but to get the titles and deeds to her land and all of her children were gone and away and it was just she who alone there did stay. She'd heard of a system for the relocation of elderly persons in families not their own but full strangers who'd then help each other improve and uplift each and everyone's lot. She signed up to live with a man and his wife whose both busy workdays did hardly suffice to care for their young ones so she sold the farm and went to take their children on her arm. Her days they were lovely all her needs were met and she had the best of years that she'd had yet and she then died happy with friends at her side who kept her last months full of honor and pride.

​© americanifesto / 場黑麥

great and godly

Spawn of man and child of powers from without this plain of ours was she born there in a sty and forthwith began to cry. Long of wind and bright of features she was friend to many creatures her advice from a young age did rival that of mage or sage. Quick she grew bones long and strong and at her doorstep men did throng to catch a glimpse of her great beauty which she to hide let all to see. Business ventures made her rich but the stresses caused an itch wherefore she gave up such pursuits and took up dance and learned the flute. Inherent talent brought her fame but soon she stood in solemn shame for out beyond the baying crowd she spied a girl – a ragged lout. Then this wonder born of flesh did take into her well-stocked crèche such urchins as lived on the street in constant rounds swift and discreet. Much she gave to tending them to stopping here a dress to hem to stopping there a mouth to feed and there was so much worldly need that soon her riches all dried up and empty was her cornucup. Then a goddess saw her plight and filled it back up overnight and helped Yieryienda then to found a charity whose aim was sound whose purpose was to help the poor and pick them back up from the floor. Kind Yieryienda recognized the godliness in all the eyes that watched her there upon her bed that did support her until dead. Then she entered soon anon the great and godly pantheon where such warm souls tend to go after they've had their Earthly go. Please contribute to her cause and take a moment now to pause and say a thanks to Those Without whose goal is to spread love about.

​© americanifesto / 場黑麥

their immutable liberty

Let none rule another for no man is slave and let our detractors know we shall not cave to threat or to treaty for starving us out though signed by the highest of elected louts. Slavery destroys all that mankind stands for by trodding the weakest of weak to the floor and stealing their immutable liberty and stranding them in darkest foul misery. For to cast a man or a woman in chains for paltry short fleeting base financial gains is to become Evil (with capital E) to give up one's once-precious humanity. The body contains all – life freedom and pride – and if it is made a slave all those things die and if it is forced to work day upon day then rightly the person enslaved will then say: Enough with this madness I want nothing more than to be set free through the flung open door that long has entrapped me in darkest despair with sores on my ankles and lice in my hair. So join us in cursing this failure of Right and march in the daytime and march in the night and stand up for justice for no one else will rid of this society its darkest ill.

​© americanifesto / 場黑麥

spring springs anew

There stands in the middle of Krukuv Surround a small short unseemly well-kept earthen mound. Dug out at the founding of this our homeland by a pair of gentle industrious hands upon it grow blossoms of white orange blue – the first ones to spring up when Spring springs anew. 'Twas there that wise Grigov (Man Krukuv, of old) did first sink his spade into our lovely vold to dig out a place wherein to store his crop protected from wind rain and thick muddy slop. A tunnel he lifted within which to put great armfuls of tubers and wild beet-root then kept right on tunneling slowly anon until his bones wearied and his strength was gone. He took then a maiden of the Yaelong folk who bore him three children from her fertile yolk whom he set to digging in the earthen larder so that there'd have plenty should times they turn harder. And things then turned sour as he knew they would but they had deep piles of well-fermented food with which they sustained themselves happy and strong until better fortunes came strolling along. Please come soon and visit fine Krukuv Surround and marvel at what can be done underground when minds they are focused on one single task – on building a nation that this long could last.

​© americanifesto / 場黑麥

with righteous fanfare

Unearthed from some tundra in a mountain pass is a woolly rhino of world-stunning class, an albino specimen fully intact with food in her guts and with young in her tract. Her size is diminutive she is a dwarf and with righteous fanfare was moved to a wharf and transported quickly lest her tissues thaw and we lose the residues trapped in her maw. Once probed measured sequenced to the nth degree will her pelt and nashorn once more day's light see. It's true she was pregnant when her life did end way up by what's now called as the Sharp Northern Bend where our river Yalung does make a quick right in its snowed-in valley – a curious sight. A shepherd did spy her while out on the vold and knew in an instant that her bones were old and called up the b'andzar to tell of the find then set off a few vagrant lamb-chops to find. Eroded by currents of the nearby stream whose banks with all manner of artifacts teem a landslide exposed to the wildlife around what had until then been trapped in frozen ground. Genetic material pried from her chest will allow researchers her time-line to guess and possibly reveal what caused her to shrink so that from the cup of her secrets we drink. Come by when she's ready and look on her size and stare into her round and sorrowful eyes and learn of her past in the great snowy time before our own species did learn how to rhyme.

​© americanifesto / 場黑麥

in her wisdom

There is a soothsayer whose verbage is true who lives in a cave without comfort or shoes or access to wi-fi or much in the way of modern distractions to consume her days. Her cavernous murky and well-hidden home is not hers to live in by herself alone but with her are strong men and girls who reside to make sure she's safe and fed and stays alive. The crone in her wisdom does not leave her lair and since she was 10 she has not cut her hair and her words resound in ears hearts and souls where they take a lasting and powerful toll. She speaks to all comers and won't turn away such persons as have not much money to pay – for all of the drachmas and other such mint are used just to suppot her soothsaying stint. She's spoken to paupers and to heads of state and opens to everyone her speaking-gate then sits back and closes her young lively eyes and sees through the shrewdest and most cunning lies. Her clients are housewifes old weary and weak the rich and the mighty the bold and the meek and hers are hard truths that now soothe and now sting that make people weep cry out rejoice and sing. So come with your question and one or two more and knock on the old lady's stout wooden door and sit for a moment to bask in the words of this old Grigovian truth-telling bird.

​© americanifesto / 場黑麥

heater for nigh

He'd been on a heater for nigh on a week and long was his successful brash winning-streak. His game it was poker his foes were a bunch of backstabbing gangsters who never skipped lunch his luck was as long as his skills they were deep but he made too many of the others weep and they started cheating conspired against this man who too few too far-apart friends. He cursed the high heavens when he started losing and soon turned to whiskey and other such boozing and spent his last dollar on drinking away the sorrow and anger of that darkened day. But not beer nor liquor could obscure the fact that his soul was constantly under attack from greediness and a foul yearning for more the likes of which have not been much seen before. Then after a week more of losing he sold a watch that was studden with diamonds and gold that he'd been presented with not long ago – quite desperate was he to have sunk so low. With bills and calls mounting to pay off his debts he wondered how much worse his poor life could get then choked on a porkchop one night at a bar and wandered outside but could not find his car for it had been repo'd and he had to walk and all the way home a dark figure did stalk. The fight it was over before it began and off into darkness the dark figure ran and the man bled out on a worn broken stair with holes in his stomach and blood in his hair. There was no memorial no persons mourning and bright shone the sun on the very next morning and his chair was filled at the poker game by another too-gready and -liquored up guy.

​© americanifesto / 場黑麥

bounty and plenty

Long has she watched over fair Grigovia – our welcoming mother bright Ma'atronya. She holds to her bosom great bundles of wheat and full cornucopia lie at her feet and a healthy child sits there on her lap who looks like he'd just woken up from a nap. First mentioned in the ancient Edda of Grie from one thousand thirty and two B.C.E. her rein's not been shaken by harshness or drought or when there was bounty and plenty about. With blessings and mercy she comforts the weak and few are the comforting words that she speaks but when they are spoken they can't be unheard for hers are some lasting and powerful words. In every home altar she takes up a space she helps us our problems with fortitude face she helps us remember what we've long forgot – that none of our efforts are ever for naught. We praise and uplift her on every full moon for hers is a fertile mysterious womb where dream hope and passion do enter and stay and go grow to fruition with each passing day. On the equinoxes we praise her once more by draping bright garlands from window and door by hugging each other and passing out food to each needy mother to each vagrant dude. Come join in the warmness of this quiet mother who loves and protects us like no one no other in this land of happiness this patria whose glory endures thanks to Ma'atronya.

​© americanifesto / 場黑麥

bovines and sheeps

Come outside my lovelies there's warm in the air and green tufts of life all around – everywhere! Our Massif of Yiptlong is coming alive with bees now emerging from their high-hung hives and birds now returning from their winter keeps and young being born to goats bovines and sheeps. Man Winter is crawling back into his cave, his white wispy beard and his long gnarled stave are dragging behind him for he's been left weak from making the landscape cold barren and bleak. The goddess of Springtime has taken his stead and soon to Man Summer she'll surely be wed and then we'll all bake under his restless eye that hangs in a tepid and sweltering sky. With thoughts of hot evenings and of hotter nights we turn our attention to conquering fright and vanquishing worry and hunger and pain and waking up from frigid slumber again the deep burning fires that keep our souls bright that wrap us in dazzling and near-blinding light. Air out the bed linens and sweep off the stair and weave a wee tulip up into your hair; rejoice at the coming of times filled with joy for each one among us – old young girl and boy.

​© americanifesto / 場黑麥

not a word

She knew not to wait or to look for a sign and therefore just sat there and soon was aligned to energies inside and those from without while her soul did shine and her spirit did shout. Her mouth though was silent she said not a word and moved not for thunder man spider or bird and let the impressions of life all around impact on her being with wind-gust and sound. Such was her devotion to just sitting there that she soon developed a shock of white hair that hung as a forelock down over her face revealing a hint of her majestic grace. Goddesses took notice and moved her to shield and used all the craftiness that they could wield to shelter her body from torment and pest and prolong the life of she whom they loved best. Time did wear upon her after many years but she had abandoned her cares and her fears and stepped without knowing back into the void from whence she at birth had been duly deployed. She joined then the pantheon that none can see and guards all such people who sit silently as she herself once did while she was alive and helps all such people to advance and thrive who take time to step away from busy lives who display the courage deep within to dive.

​© americanifesto / 場黑麥

her own self

Her visions were strong and her mind it was clear so much so that she could tell when earthquakes neared and when rains were coming and when they would cease and how Bengal tigers' anger to ease. She worked for circuses and for soothsayers but never revealed all of her deep layers but kept herself closed to those she didn't know and carefully throttled how far she would go with even her closest and longest of friends and learned mostly on her own self to depend. While out on a journey she met Nepal monks and found she could share all her secrets amongst those wise and sage masters of Being And Naught who'd long ago shed all their most selfish thoughts. She joined then up with them and fled to the East and calmed many angry and marauding beasts and then reached a temple build high on a peak where she then remained 'til her muscles turned weak and she duly perished and her body dried but her spirit lived for such things don't die.

​© americanifesto / 場黑麥

hope and promise

The virus made use of our customs and trade its inroads and success were too quickly made until a small council of wise people met to examine options we'd not thought of yet. This occurred way back in the thirteen hundreds when much of what was Europe lay about dead when blight war and pestilence were all around and piles of corpses stood heaped on the ground. This council of men and of women held court and discussed our nation's few and last resorts and devised a schema for saving us all from wizened old geezer to children still small. We must put these bodies at once in the earth and give all sick-houses a wide solemn berth and clean up our quarters and wash all our clothes and wear clean white kerchiefs before mouth and nose, is what this wise council did wisely propose. Grigovia's death-rate fell quickly and soon and ours was a widespread but still-cautious boon for we found some lands to the north south and east had been quite abandoned to weed-growth and beast. Our borders expanded as the sickness fled and within a fortnight we'd buried the dead and started to build on the lands that we'd gained while strength hope and promise did fill us again. With stubborn defense we held onto those lands from roving marauding and murderous bands that swept from the plains of Asia's wide steppe to break up and shatter upon our doorstep. The pest never came back for we did keep clean our bodies and homes and all places once mean and foul with effluvia trash and vomit and never again did we let or permit invaders of human or non-human sort to drive us to seeking few and last resorts.

​© americanifesto / 場黑麥

favor of Fate

When waking up early to see to the rites she found it important a candle to light not one on the outside but one within her in hopes she'd the favor of Fate would incur. Things took a turn upward and her life improved and many a visitor felt himself moved when looking upon the things she did sculpt carve paint regardless if depicting sinner or saint. Her works were bought up by some people with means and she found herself mingling in between and rubbing her elbows with those who could pay for her bold wide strokes and her well-crafted clay. She took then to drinking her rites set aside and let herself fill up with envy and pride and let herself slack in her morning routine until her hard soul was dark callous and mean. Fate then frowned upon her and caused her to lose the customers who'd once her works had perused and she lost a child to drink and to vice and hers was a bed of rough hay-bales and lice. She left for far shores on a fast sailing-craft whose deckhands were able whose captain was daft whose course was erratic as that of a bat which lapped up grain liquor from an open vat. A storm did confuse them and they lost a mast to a prolonged furious sudden wind-blast and they then washed up on tropical isle where they found brown faces and curious smiles. She took to her new home with passionate zeal and did quickly learn how to whip up a meal from coconut milk and a few broken nuts and soon were smoothed over her addictions' ruts. She took her a husband and bore him a son who was a bright beautiful artistic one and soon she discovered the routines she'd known that were once abandoned in her distant home and became a priestess who shared with her tribe her wisdom and grace 'til the day that she died.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

omen and idol

There was once a bird that from ashes arose of which have been penned many mountains of prose. We too have this legend of starting again of picking up oneself with the help of friends or gods or just solo as many still do who find themselves wishing to start over new. We call it the Nixpe, tell of it in tales and tell of its many and colorful tails as it from dire ruins of what was once had does ascend with calls bright shrill frequent and glad. As omen and idol the Nixpe does serve for it is a curious magical bird that from all the failed plans of mice and of men does emerge and emerge again and again. In our northern cities and those in the south does this ancient story fill many a mouth, from western Pyltagrad to eastern Gar Nuuzsh (whose people have roots in the great Hindu Kusch) do they speak of Nixpe whenever they hear that for a dear project the ending is near. To accept this cycle of death and rebirth requires the ego to lose its wide girth and tap instead into immutable truth and give up its concrete-filled immobile berth. When failure turns fun then this life is a gas and anger and hardship are simply bypassed for such greener pastures that broaden the mind and free it of memories best left behind. If something should burn down don't stand there and cry just give it one more solid and heartfelt try for everything built up will crumble one day – trust in the recurrence of wondrous Nixpe.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

cloudy or blue

Her beauty was manifest honest and bright – it darkened the daytime and lit up the night. She first was discovered at the age of ten by a group of talent- and model-scout men who'd witnessed her coming back home from the health with her flock intact and a bag in her teeth. The bag contained queenswort dandelion sage and her stony features did belie her age for she had been out in the meadows all week with her sheep the greenest green pastures to seek. The men had heard rumors of a maiden fair all long slender limbs and bright blond flowing hair and in this young shepherd their quarry did find with thoughts of her success (and theirs) in their minds. She agreed to come with them, left then her home, but she was not happy in Saõ Paolo Rome New York Berlin Shanghai (where fashion is king) but wanted to go back and do her old thing. She stayed made some money quit after a year her glamorous empty clothes-wearing career, returned to her parents and to the High Wold and her messy bleating long-yearned-for sheepfold. She married a farmer who lived down the road and of their sweet offspring more stories were told – of beauty and gracefulness, modesty too, and life lived under the skies both cloudy or blue.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

old man Grilgamesh

There's an ancient story concerning man-flesh – it's of course the tale of old man Grilgamesh. He'd sat masturbating for most of his life while pining for company (maybe a wife) to share with him his sodden bed made of reeds to comfort him daily and meet all his needs. His story is epic, his seed made us all, and boosted our numbers while our race was small, not yet well established upon this here Earth, this rapidly spinning celestial berth. There arrived then Ink'Du, whom Eshtir had sent to help some good people and give them defense except that wild Ink-Du and old Grilgamesh soon wove themselves into a tight friendly mesh. The high times that they had would have made strippers blush for from peak to valley the drunk pair did rush consuming and partying with all they had two arm-in-arm brothers with wide smiles glad. Eshtir she was pissed because Grilgamesh had spurned ignored denied her a place in his bed whereupon she'd sent down a mad raging cow that was meant to kill never to pull a plow. Ink'Du and his buddy did slay that bovine which caused Ink'Du's life-web to quickly unwind whereupon Grilgamesh did mourn for his mate and curse all the gods for his fallen friend's fate. He holed himself up in a far hidden place while his building projects were finished apace and realized that power was paltry at best whereupon a weight of woe fell from his chest. We humans are flimsy, he realized anon, We must not rejoice at the battles we've won but cherish the friends that we get in this life and lay down our weapons and tools made for strife; to build and to construct great cities and works to stop being assholes mendicants and jerks is all we can strive for in this life of ours so please do tread lightly always smells the flowers – too short are the rest of these remaining hours.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

our good health

From sands in the east to deep muck in the west from wide southern plains to its northernmost crest our land is gray taupe verdant ocher basalt but we love its soils whatever their pall. With swamp-rat mountain-goat plains-goose desert-fox as well as fine salmon (that provides us lox) in every corner and every place has our fine Grigovia always been graced. On hill and in valley stream river and tree do we find abundance that makes us wealthy not with heaps of money but with something else – with freedom and foodstuffs to keep our good health. We know to be careful and not take too much to harvest only what our own limbs can clutch to leave for the children who are yet to come such bounty and riches that cannot be won that are righteous blessings sent down by the gods who smile upon us and buoy our odds. All hail then the Watchers who dole out the goods who wander our alleys and flit through our woods who knock on our door-jams when we least expect who've been known to meddle and to interject their whim and their fancy on we who must die on everyone from magnate to little guy. Their end-goal is shifty their methods are slick they make the lame healthy the solipsist sick they're here for the long haul and shall be endured and praised with the kindest and softest of words. We thank them here now and with this simple text we know not to fear what must need to come next for we trust the judgment of those we can't see to maintain the balance twixt you him and me.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

faces of women

The first bills we printed in May, 1810, included the faces of women and men. There was brave Queen Pylta defending a moat upon the 100 talent banking note, then there was our maiden, fair Nuuzstathena, upon what was then the 10 talent drachma. We also have honored dames foreign and not who labored to improve all of mankind's lot, like Keller Luxembourg Frank Yiessht and Curie on much of our land's official currency. We urge now the E.U., the Ynki, the Rus, to celebrate people who have shaped for us the world as we know it the world that is ours for sharing their thoughts hopes dreams and working-hours. If not for the imprint of many a lass we'd likely be living without any class and lapping at puddles and holed up in caves and not much confronting the fault of our ways. Now pull out a fifty now cast you a glance and keep you that boner-farm tucked in your pants for all of those ladies that live on your cash will save and avenge you and that in a flash. So raise you a toast to the girl at your side, for she is the source of most all of our pride, for hers is a mighty and sharply-tuned brain that's saved us from ruin again and again.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥]

women at home

There was not a murmur of fear in their ranks as they reached the top of the enemies' banks. Dug into a river in their country's west were some of the bravest and some of the best that they had encountered in all of their days which prompted them to craft some devious ways. They'd trapped in clay jars many manner of bees that they'd duly harvested from nearby trees that they then sent flying from catapults crude which their foes found shitty unwanted and rude. With hardly a quiver and much hardy sand they then undertook the next step of their plan and blasted their foe without remorse or heed but with much deliberate and measured speed. They managed to rid him then off selfsame banks for which they received heaps of praise and much thanks from women at home and from allies afar who now recognize them for all that they are.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

from many trees

There was of a sudden a light in the sky that with a great speed through the heavens did fly that buzzed many rooftops and finally found an end to its travels in our marshy ground. The object was metal and dried up the turf and let up much steam from its not-too-deep berth for its had been a long wide trajectory and it had clipped many tops from many trees. As soon as it had cooled enough to be took it was swiftly loaded up onto a truck and hauled to a room at the Circle of Knowledge where it was then probed weighed examined and polished. Its secrets discovered its origins too it was forthwith set up within its own booth where children from near and experts from afar could come to marvel at this bright falling star. Since it had descended during the twilight it gained of the nickname Twixt Even and Night which was soon adopted Grigovia-wide to lift up our spirits and buoy our pride.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

bountiful foodstuff supplies

He'd stood on his doorstep and prayed there for rain and yet all his pleadings were offered in vain for to the wrong goddesses he'd made his plea – all hail the Steppe Mother, all praise be to she who causes her moistures to fall from the skies who grows our rich bountiful foodstuff supplies. Her gaze covers all the farms south of the Pass, from ones that grow grains to those that just make grass for feeding the livestock from which comes all meat, without which most mealtimes would not be complete. The Steppe Mother calls upon Grigovians to alter tradition and change up their plans and consume such items the Earth herself makes and stop eating chicken pig or bovine steaks. Great mountains of barley wheat corn oat and rice would become available and would suffice to feed all the people we have in this land if diets were switched to vegetarian. So stop putting animals into your stews and sample with recipies based on this new exciting and cutting-edge curriculum that sees all things living together, as one.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

bodies and hair

Sunk down in the marshes acidic and deep were found a few persons who appeared asleep. The chemical stew there had preserved their hides in such a fine fashion they appeared alive – with clothes on their bodies and hair on their heads to every appearance they did not seem dead. The fibers and leather that clung to their skin were carefully removed before did begin a thorough analysis of all their tattoos as well as their last meals, tooth-wearing, and shoes. Much insight was gained into their ancient rites and work it proceeded both daytime and night and some tools and weapons were found buried there that were still so sharp that they could split a hair. The remains and sundry are now on display in Grig's large Museum Of Then And Today that sits on the banks of the frothy Yalung whose doors they stand open to old and to young. Stop by for a visit, see with your own eyes, come gasp with delightful and pleasant surprise at all of the riches dug up from below that make up this solemn yet insightful show.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

his final days

A man of unshakable deep solid faith he refused to brush his teeth eat well or bathe. For more than a few years he lived in this way and cared not for lowly mundane day-to-day or what to his mind were mere petty concerns until of a sudden his insides did burn. It was an large ulcer that ate at his guts that made him act crazy mad psycho and nuts that made him to rethink his blind dedication to the thought that he could not be touched by such foul consternation. He then changed his diet and started to wash but could only sit back and suffer and watch as his past decisions did haunt and mistreat his every motion on endless repeat. He cursed then the god that he had once but praised and lived out in agony his final days and went to his rest still with spite in his soul – he who had let arrogance wreak its harsh toll.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

towering and wooden

There is a small forest on the edge of Grig that is populated by trees tall and big. The arbor has stood since time once began, since our founding persons did set forth this land and shelter by solemn official decree that no single saw-blade these trees would dare see. Their tops reach to heaven, their roots do run deep and many cool wind-gusts their leafy crowns sweep, there are many pathways that make curvy walks between their long towering and wooden stalks. They would make fine masts but we're far from the ocean and still rather enjoy the quick sweeping motion that they make when lapped at by squalls from the north that rush down and move all their limbs back and forth. We're glad they weren't made into houses or spears, that they have stayed standing these many long years, and hope that our children and theirs then in kind will share of the hopes that we hold in our mind to keep for the future – for prosperity – these unique majestic ancient mega-trees.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

tiniest and grandest

She is the fair Maiden Of What's Left Unsaid and there is no other can act in her stead. She governs and watches over honest minds and bears silent witness to all of our crimes and shelters the tiniest and grandest Truths that we dare not set in stone or prove with proofs. Therefore we must guard her weak small tender form and keep deep inside us the thought of her warm and not rush to speak about that which we think lest we cause an uproar or turmoil or stink. There are you see some things which much stay Unsaid which we dare not to escape the hole in the head that talks without ceasing and spills without pause pears of endless wisdom through hard-marbled jaws. So sew up the mandibles, pray do not speak, and zip up that suck-hole this day and this week, and keep it all closed up and sealed from within – for then a great prize you shall most surely win. The Maiden is gracious, respects sacrifice, and claims that mere silence alone will suffice to secure her blessing and countenance fair – not boasting or riches or suave debonair.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥