Poverty, Malnutrition, Hunger, Homelessness, Rough Sleeping and Dying On the Streets Are High-Cruelties: Humanics Shows How All These High-Cruelties Can Be Eradicated By Establishing Building-Block Foundational Human Rights:  Wonder About Humanics For This Brutal Barbaric Ruthlessly Merciless Capitalism Is Nothing But a Killing Mechanism to Devastate, Destroy and Disfigure Humanity

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Humanion Free Advertisement Supporting Charity Bank

To Change the World We Need Ideas, That Challenge the Existing Desperate,  Horrendous, Brutal, Barbaric and Inhuman System of Public Affairs Management System: Capitalism, A Killing Mechanism and It Creates, Sustains and Distributes Inequality and Poverty and Sentences the Vast Majority of Humanity with a Live-In-Life-Sentence of Misery, Suffering and Agony: Time to Challenge and Change This

The Arkive
 
|| Year Delta: London: Thursday: October 18: 2018: We Keep On Walking On The Path of Humanics ||
First Published: September 24: 2015
VII London Poetry Festival 2019: St Matthews at Elephant and Castle: Meadow Row: London SE1 6RG: Monday-Tuesday: October 14-15: 19:30-22:00
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We are more than our neurons or their combinations, co-relations, conjunctions, functions and interactions, that are conducted through their gap junctions, synapses or action potentials. We are more than the cells, tissues, organs, systems, DNAs, RNAs, genes etc and their ultimate unification into a whole mechanism and system of magnificence. We are an infinity unfolding itself in the name of the human mind which, through the physiology of what on appearance is a human physique, it becomes, dreams, imagines, creates, loves and does human: the most astonishing of all things, that we find on this Universe. All we have to do is to look at its unity off the billion plus expressions of its self and wonder about its endless expressive diversity off the same self in billion plus instances to realise that this human mind is magnificent a thing for the purpose of which the neurology is given to it as the most sophisticated, most elaborately engineered, most complexity-strewn an architecture, a most awe-inspiring bio-chemico-genetico-mechanism, that we humans will ever see in this Universe; nothing else will ever surpass this magnificence. And it all begins with the book of genome, that has already been written, that will have all the tools to keep on writing the future of a human physiology and with that begins the human life and soon the Cardiology is formed and follows neurology: the duo or the two in one or the one in two: for they, neither ends nor begins alone but, rather, both just clasp, grasp, sew, knit, cut, run, crisscross, bind, bend, blend and flow in, out, between and through the human physiology in such an 'infinity of subtle, intricate and sublime artistry', that the entire creation of this Universe does not have a parallel to show next to it. And with this Cardiology and Neurology the human becomes more than a physiology: it becomes a human mind and that has not been written out, unlike the genome, which has been, and, here is, where the entire life of this human mind is, as, if, it has got infinity of white papers bundled into a beautiful blank book, that no one can know how to write but that human mind alone does and this is where humanity is, this is what humanity is and this is how humanity is and this is why we publish The Humanion to write a Beautiful Book out of those blank white pages of that book, where genome alone can never write a single word unless The Sanctum Mayakardium and The High Neuranium join forces to make 'one': the one, that is exactly like the heart with two atria; or the one, that is exactly like the brain with two hemispheres: it is two in one and one in two. And here is to this awe, to Humanity: Poetry of Neurology

The Humanion Editorial For Clean Green Renewable and Sustainable Energy: A British Business Leadership Called Scottish Power GREEN: The Humanion Congratulates Its Visionary Leadership in Effectively Declaring Those Who Burry Their Heads in the Dirty Fossil Fuel are Minding Into Dinosaurs and Heading for Extinction

|| October 17: 2018 || ά. The first British Energy Company, Scottish Power has made the news by becoming the first of the large energy suppliers of the United Kingdom, that has effectively and successfully called it a day for dirty fossil energy. From now on Scottish Power to supply 100% energy from clean, green and sustainable sources. The Humanion would like to congratulate the visionary leadership of this company, that understood that the future is not in the grasp of those, who are seeking to ‘frack’ their way into profiteering without regards to what the cost is: fossil fuel is dead. DEAD. Those, who can not see few centimetres away and ahead into the future are still seeking to burry their heads into their ‘fracking away’ through the dirty fossil fuel mud are doing nothing but heading towards extinction. The green energy is not only sustainable and the future but, also, it has become the most competitive in prices. No one can beat clean and green energy now. Let the competition begin.

And, we are delighted that Scottish Power has started this revolution. Within the shortest possible time frame, not decades but years, the United Kingdom’s people will show where to direct their consumption of energy needs and the dinosaurs of the field will, unless, they wake up and stop wasting energy and resources and invest fast and hard into securing green energy, disappear into oblivion, regardless of their ‘mortal grasp on consumers through horrible tariffs and contracts. It is time the energy companies wake up and realise that Scottish Power has, in effect, declared that the GREEN REVOLUTION has effectively begun as of the day it declared going 100% Green, Sustainable and Renewable energy.

It is time the United Kingdom Government wakes up and abandon this ‘madness’ about fossil fuel and fracking destruction and nuclear energy and cease the opportunity to join in this revolution. And, to go with it, it is high time the United Kingdom Government invest in stopping diesel and patrol vehicles and usher in an era of ‘turbo-charging’ the electric vehicles and to support that public transports of all manners and forms, must be, revolutionised so that it is free for every citizen. If, they ask how is it going to be funded: simply, tell them, if, they did not know how to, they better make way for people, who can. Because it can be done and it must be done. It is time, it is high time to end this debacle of air pollution, literally, choking the nation. Let public transport be free for all and declare a war against fossil fuel transportations and begin the green electrification of all transport systems.:::ω. || Readmore || 181018 || Up || 

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|| Katherine Michaud ||

Poets' Letter Magazine
Published in the 90s and then between 2004 and 2009

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Poets' Letter Magazine Archives Poetry Pearl

 

In its spread Poets' Letter became Poets' Letter Magazine Print, Poets' Letter Magazine Online, Poets' Letter Youth Lit, Poets' Letter Fiction  and Poets' Letter Philosophia and published hundreds and hundreds of new and emerging authors and poets. Poets' Letter Magazine published The Poet's Letter Poetry Anthology of New Voices: London, 2005. Out of Poets' Letter grew Poets' Letter Poetry Performance Series, starting out at The Poetry Cafe, Covent Garden in 2004 which then spread across London that ran for a few years and, The London Poetry Festival annually: 2005-2009 culminating into two anthologies; London Poetry Pearl: London Poetry Festival 2009  and Commit the Savannah-Sunset and the Restless Sea: English Translations of Contemporary Spanish Poetry.  We aim to, gradually, re-house the entire Poets' Letter Archives onto The Humanion website since so many talented authors and poets had been published in Poets' Letter whose works should be read. Katherine Michaud was the First Ever Featured Poet of the Month in Poets' Letter Magazine. Here she is.  Volume 1, Issue 03, May 2004

Katherine Michaud

 

Katherine Michaud: Featured Poet of the Month

Katherine Michaud is a 22 year old starving artist. She has been writing poetry since the age of 14, granted it was awful, and recently discovered a love for art and design. She graduated cum laude from Salisbury University in Maryland, May 2003 with a bachelors degree in Communication Arts (specializing in Public Relations and Journalism).

She now turns her attention to the University of Baltimore where she is a full-time graduate student studying for her masters degree in Publications Design. Every free elective she takes tends to be writing related. To pay the bills, Katherine is a full-time Assistant Acquisitions Editor at the publishing house, PublishAmerica. Not a glamorous job, it does pay the bills and the emotional satisfaction is high. She hopes to eventually change departments in the company to become either a text editor or cover designer - as these coincide more with her love for the creative. Volume 1, Issue 3, May 2004

A BUNCH OF I AM ME POEMS OF MAY POET KATHERINE MICHAUD
 

GHAZAL OF A RAINSTORM 

Bursting through the quiet twilight: tossing, tearing, turning in passion -
a thunderous storm awakens the night with its passion.

Hidden in the underbrush, squirrels skitter to sanctuary.
A lone acorn left spinning in their dust, a forgotten passion.

Large droplets pound the roof of a rusted blue Chevy.
Young boy moves in on innocent girl, declaring his passion.

Clear suburban road, slick with fresh puddles,
children pounce and giggle with purest passion.

Hair in curlers, terry cloth robe wrapped tight,
a mother calls out to her kittens, an owner’s passion.

Painted in a window, features distorted by the gale,
Katherine looks out and sees it all, dreaming passion.

Up

HOW TO LIVE YOUNG 

Upon waking, run around the house
goofily flailing extraneous limbs.
Jump on the beds of those who slumber.

Once calmed, eat lucky charms,
saving the marshmallows for last.
Slurp the milk, lick the bowl dry.

When in public, give in to bouts of tourette’s:
scream “Petrified penis!” in a crowded lobby.
Giggle and hide behind someone bigger than you.

Go to the park with friends,
hang upside down from the monkey bars.
Have swinging contests:

Who can go higher and jump further?
Play on the carousel until you are so dizzy
you might fall down.

Don’t stay out past dark –
run home as soon as the first street light comes on.
Look both ways when crossing the street,

hold someone’s hand.
Be free with affection, 
devote your entire being.

And then some.

Up

I AM ME


Of everything, a little stayed.
The world, vast and unexplored by my eyes,
never called my name.
The office, seemingly always open.
The groceries, seemingly always gone.
I am here.

Of everything, a little changed.
Universities, with all their pull,
still call my name.
Salisbury, suburban and friendly.
Baltimore, a strange city, full of strangers.
I always answer.

Of everyone, a few stayed.
Sisters, with all of their goals,
moved far away.
The older, conferencing in Switzerland.
The other, studying in Boston.
I am here.

Of everyone, a few changed.
Mother, with her singsong tone,
still calls my name. 
Her calls, seemingly always echo.
Her needs, seemingly always unfulfilled.
I always answer.

Of everything, a little stayed.
A little changed.
Of everyone, a few stayed.
A few changed.
The world keeps turning and
I am still me.

Up

ON CONTEMPLATING MY NEW LEATHER COAT

Darkened night,
like your smooth sleek skin
beckons me.

Come play…

Brightened stars,
like your shimmering interior,
lighten things up.
Stay a while…

Every night ends.
Every star fades.
And what will take its place?
I wonder…

As you take the spot light 
from me to you,
I remind myself again -
I know…

Your beauty will fade
Mine goes deeper.

Copyrights @ Katherine Michaud 2004-09

Up

Back to Poets' Letter Magazine Archives Poetry Pearl

Life Goes On

The day it ended,
I thought I’d never breathe again.
The world should have caved in,
the lights should have gone out,
it should have been over.
 
When the world didn’t collapse
under the pressure of my sorrow,
I shouldn’t have been surprised.
 
When the thunder clouds didn’t roll in
to reflect my agony,
I should have welcomed the sun.
 
When a stranger smiled at me,
a nicety unfamiliar,
I shouldn’t have scowled.
 
I learned the hard way,
as everyone does,
that the world does not revolve around me.

I woke up today.
I’ll probably wake up tomorrow.
I am still breathing,
still living,
still loving.
 
And finally, that’s 
okay by me.

Up

LOSING ALY


“He doesn’t have much time”
Mom cried in my ear.

Nine hours later, running
into MamaJohn’s arms.
A rock of a grandmother.
Crumbling under the pressure.
Losing the love of her life.
All I could do is cling to her and cry.

“We can only see him two at a time.”
She sniffled, still crying through dry eyes.

When it was my turn, I saw that Aly wasn’t there.
The face jaundiced and puffy.
The body sunken and wasting.
The man could no longer close his eyes,
nor was he conscious. 
Vaseline covered the lids, 
moisturizing what was left.

When it was my turn, I tried not to cry 
attempting to keep spirits up,
I joked to this vessel 
that he had to live to be 120, like he promised.
I stared blankly at the shell 
and MamaJohn told me he lost his virginity at age 8 to an 18 year old.
I scolded the body.

I thought about
sipping root beer floats some afternoons on his patio.
playing balderdash when he’d choose the silliest answers.
finding the perfect Christmas toy to add to his collection. 
learning card games from him with names like “oh hell.”
climbing the pine tree and getting stuck till he came to get me down.
listening to him fake laugh, then the real laugh, then a boisterous laugh at that laugh.

And then I let go.

Up

TYPICAL

Typical children bounce
On trampolines.
Little legs, chubby arms,
Flailing with delight.

I never had a trampoline,
So I improvised, I bounced
on a newly dead
squishy, rotting cow.

I was not the only one,
and flies danced about us
with each sickening plop
of our feet in the corpse.

I admit,
I’m not typical.

Up

YOUTH


When I was young, I 
was the white unicorn.

Galloping through
a vast forest of students,

I remained untouched.
My snowy coat glimmering

like fairy dust,
a dew after the rain.

I was untouchable,
I was unknowable –

Or was I just untouched?
Just unknown?

With all of my majesty,
I existed apart:

a freak with a horn
right smack-dab 

in the middle of my 
forehead.

Up

Copyrights @ Katherine Michaud 2004-09

Back to Poets' Letter Magazine Archives Poetry Pearl

 

 

 

Life's Laurel Is You In One-Line-Poetry A Heaven-Bound Propagated Ray Of Light Off The Eye Of The Book Of Life: Love For You Are Only Once

 

 

Life: You Are The Law The Flow The Glow: In Joys In Hurts You Are The Vine-Songs On The Light-Trellis

 

 

 

 

   
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

|| All copyrights @ The Humanion: London: England: United Kingdom || Contact: The Humanion: editor at thehumanion.com || Regine Humanics Foundation Ltd: reginehumanics at reginehumanicsfoundation.com || Editor: Munayem Mayenin || First Published: September 24: 2015 ||
|| Regine Humanics Foundation Ltd: A Human Enterprise: Registered as a Not For Profit Social Enterprise in England and Wales: Company No: 11346648 ||