My published books to-date

Treat yourself or someone you love to two great reads …

Why wait until Christmas or Chanukah to treat yourself or someone you love to an unforgettable read?

“Under the Shirttails of Albert Russo” modernizes the concept of the biography away from Boswellian “every ladder rung is vital” structure, and straight to “the good and meaningful stuff — that defines who a person is … and why.”

BOOK DESCRIPTION:

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With laser-like precision, Adam Donaldson Powell bores into Albert Russo’s psyche, while in parallel he analyzes the work of a lifetime. But more often than not, there is a process of cross-fertilization, whether it is clearly identified or on the sidelines. He interviews his subject, not always in a linear fashion, scanning the latter’s important stages of life: there is first Central, Eastern – the former Belgian Congo (now, DRCongo), Ruanda-Urundi (now, the two countries of Rwanda and Burundi) and Southern Africa – Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe) and South Africa, where the author was raised, completing high school at the Interracial Athénée of Usumbura (now Bujumbura), studying with European, Congolese, Hutu, Tutsi, Asian and American classmates, both in French and in English (he also went to an all-boys’ school in Salisbury, now called Harare). We then find him in the Big Apple at the age of seventeen, attending New York University, after which, he pursues his studies in German at the Collegium Platinum in Heidelberg. The subject is asked very intimate questions about his private life, with which he is faced for the first time. And he reveals facts he never thought could one day be thrust into the open. But still, he complies, candidly. Mr. Powell illustrates with excerpts of the author’s novels, poems and short stories, which are all either clearly or subconsciously related to Albert Russo’s life, as well as photos, letters and book reviews from Albert Russo’s personal archives. Mentioned are his AFRICAN QUATUOR, the collected poems in the CROWDED WORLD OF SOLITUDE, volume two, his collected stories and essays in the CROWDED WORLD OF SOLITUDE, volume one, and finally, his GOSH ZAPINETTE! series, of which David Alexander writes: “… Be warned, Zapinette’s gems of insouciant wit tend to become infectious. This wise-child’s deceptively worldly innocence takes the entire gamut of human endeavor in its compass. Hardly anyone or anything escapes unscathed. Michael Jackson,Vittorio de Sica, Freddy Mercury, Mao Zedong, Bill and Hill, the Pope, Fidel Castro, and even Jesus of Nazareth all come under Zapinette’s delightfully zany fire as she “zaps” from topic to topic in an irrepressible flux. As the century of the double zeros is with us, we have seen the future and the future is sham. As a healthy dose of counter-sham, Zapinette should be on every brain-functional person’s reading list.” After America, the subject moves to Northern Italy where he will reside nine years, then to Brussels. He spends half of his life in Paris, France, before finally settling in Tel Aviv Israel. When asked what his roots are, he replies that he is a humanist born in Africa, with his virtual roots being the languages which he speaks: English, French, Italian, Spanish, German, vernacular Swahili, as well as those he can only read: Portuguese and Dutch. He will soon add Hebrew. Those cherished languages are much more than forms of speech, they are his planet, from which he extracts much of the sap of his writing. So, don’t be shy. Get Under the Shirttails of Albert Russo. See order details HERE!

originals of letters + journals re AR 1

DO WATCH ‪”The Age of the Pearl”, extracted from my new biography “Under the Shirttails of Albert Russo”

READER COMMENTS … regarding UNDER THE SHIRTTAILS of ALBERT RUSSO:

UNDER THE SHIRTTAILS of ALBERT RUSSO ‘can perhaps be likened to skipping a small rock across a pond – creating ripples and reverberations which both reflect the greater omnipotence of the water and temporarily alter its periphery and identity.’ Such is Adam Donaldson Powell the master weaver behind the literary tapestry that is the life & times with a view into poems, novels and picture gallery of one brilliant international award-winning multilingual poet, novelist, essayist, historian and photographer – Albert Russo – a man with a claim to no country yet a citizen of many soils – in his sensitively scripted yet profoundly penetrating work unveiled as ‘an alternative biography’.

— Jeanette Skirvin

This biography crowns five decades of my father’s very prolific writing. Both my brother Alex and myself are immensely proud of our father’s literary achievement. From his very deep insights on the history of Africa, to the birth and struggles of the Israeli state, his poems and immensely entertaining short stories, humorous novels for teenagers, short stories covering the complexities of human nature, there isn’t one topic that my father hasn’t masterfully addressed in his writings.

— Tatiana Russo

We have the pleasure to see all the beauties of literature, poetry and photography of Albert Russo in Adam Donaldson Powell’s brilliant and memorable book “Under the Shirttails of Albert Russo”. Russo’s profound and well-ordered imagination helps him to create great works of literature. Russo never writes his great poems and novels according to any mechanic rule. He has perfected his writings due to “the existential qualm for which my heritage is responsible: Africa, Judaism and Italy. They exist and coexist in cycles, in a fashion so inchoate that I am never quite sure which will take the upper hand.” Powell, the immortal poet famous for his classic “Three-legged Waltz”, points out that Russo “began life as an outsider; the offspring of refugees to Africa from Nazi and fascist persecution then became an outcast via his self-proclaimed ‘gaytude’.” No doubt, this fact has provided the perfection of tone in all his creative endeavors, and this will certainly entice all readers. The true essence of Russo’s writings and photography is revealed by Powell in this unique book. Adam Donaldson Powell’s latest powerful book “Under the Shirttails of Albert Russo” is a tour de force in biography and literary criticism.

— Dr. Santosh Kumar, Editor, Cyberwit.net

​To avoid any doubts or confusion, this book by Adam Donaldson Powell is NOT just a biography of the life of Albert Russo, nor is it a synoptic overview of his massive and prolific collection of works of prose, poetry, and photography. This book is something far more than either of these literary vehicles could ever be. Through literally decades of conversations, correspondence, and collaboration between these two very talented authors/artists, Adam Powell gives us a glimpse into not only the very diverse heritage and globe-trotting life and experiences of Albert Russo, but also a glimpse into his very psyche and incredible intellect. In other words, this book lays bare for the world to see what makes Albert Russo one of the few true renaissance men of our times. Russo’s collection of works bridges gulfs of heritage, culture, philosophy, and more – often with more than a hint of his sometimes quirky and off-beat sense of humor. For anyone who has ever read and enjoyed ANY of Russo’s works, this book is a must-read to fully understand the man behind the true art of his words, ideas, and imagery.

​– J. Richard Davis, B.A., J.D.

 

Adam Donaldson Powell, author

 

 

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Review of Adam Donaldson Powell’s book “Entre Nous et Eux”, by C. Richard Mathews, USA.

Adam Donaldson Powell’s new collection of works, Entre Nous et Eux, displays his multiple talents and concerns in a series of brilliant and engaging pieces. Powell is an activist, essayist, fiction writer, visual artist, poet, who writes in four languages, though English is the predominant one in this volume and an inability to read French, Norwegian or Spanish will not detract from a reader’s understanding and appreciation of any of the pieces.

The book is divided into four sections: poetry, a novella titled “Entre Nous”, a short story titled “Death Poem” and another, longer novella called “The Stalker”. While the works deal with many themes, the overriding one for this reader was the issue of how societal and political forces affect — often adversely — an individual’s development, sometimes to the point that she or he does not or cannot understand or accept who she/he is. A major factor in this, it is suggested, is the inability of others in her/his family and in greater society to respect and accept a person’s differences (the “other”).

The book begins with Powell’s great strength: his poetry. Interestingly, in the three works of fiction poems appear as well. In both the stand-alone poetry and the fiction, poems allow Powell to focus the reader’s attention immediately on his themes and concerns. The first group of poems involves children in a presumably Western European (Parisian?) context and their shock at how the world interacts with their innocence: a child playing hopscotch confronting a pedophile, a young girl taunted because she has “two mothers”, a young hijab-wearing Muslim girl also subject to jibes, problems for a child of “color”, a presumably Muslim boy’s trauma at the hands of police after talking of ISIS, the treatment of gypsies and their plight and ostracism, the shock of exploding bombs in an unnamed war zone.

Although much of the poetry deals with “social issues” in one sense or the other, there are purely lyrical moments as well, such as the poem “Jeux d’Eau”.

At a number of points the issue of suicide is introduced: the inability of the characters to accept themselves or others’ perceptions of them. Thus, in the first novella, “Entre Nous.”, a friend of one of the main characters dies of an overdose (deliberate?) days after they’ve had sex with each other. And the beautiful short story “Death Poem”, concerning two young Japanese men, involves the presumed suicide of a father over his son’s homosexuality, and the son’s own subsequent suicide himself. As noted above, the use of poetry, and references to poetry, permeate Powell’s fiction writing and in this moving story he introduces us to a specific Japanese form of poetry relevant to the taking of one’s life.

Both novellas involve casts of characters that are followed through some years of their lives. “Entre Nous.” is presented partially in an epistolary form. The story involves the interaction of several gay friends and various sexual escapades in a number of Western cities — Paris, London, New York — that the author is obviously familiar with. As in some of the poetry, especially the collection of interlocking erotic poems “tu sais je vais….t’enculer (love letters)”, the writing about sex is explicitly detailed, a means for the author to “épater la bourgeoisie” in the mode of Baudelaire, Rimbaud, Genet and other French writers. Their cumulative effect is, ultimately, powerful and meaningful. These passages are part of his subtle analysis throughout of various types of love and physical and emotional attraction.

The second, longer novella, “The Stalker”, concerns a young woman and her lover, a transgender man who, at one point discovers that he may be “a lesbian in a man’s body” (294). The overriding theme is one of identity — despite society’s pressures, finding it or creating it and then having the flexibility to change it or allow it to modulate as circumstances and feelings may urge or dictate.

The reader should not miss the great amount of humor and wit, and pure literary pleasure, in Powell’s writing which, as in Proust, may be overlooked if one focuses merely on “the story line” or themes. Be ready for a wonderful turn-of-phrase, or the startling juxtaposition of images. For example, in “Une Lettre d’Une Prostitue…” the letter writer states, “J’aimerais parfois me mettre dans le peau de quelqun d’autre…” Or, “mots doux et traitres a la fois…” (37). Or: “lips part revealing your lizard tongue” (63). Or: “blood-red sugary tension of domestic rape” (55). Or: “the relentless fantasy is more than the sum of reality’s individual parts”. (78)

Especially delightful are the “echoes” one finds between different parts of the works through the use of literary devices similar to Wagner’s leitmotifs. Thus, there is a reference early in “Entre Nous.” to Donald O’Connor and Marilyn Monroe singing “a man chases a girl (until she catches him)” and then much later the reader comes upon a scene of Karol/Mariusz showing his poetry to a closeted priest in which he has written “I delight in chasing straight boys until they catch me” (172).

It should be noted that in both his poetry and fiction Powell’s writing style is clear and precise without being pedestrian or boring. It is a style that is able to draw in and engage the reader quietly and without showiness, leaving one with a sense of pleasure, even when the subjects at hand are very serious ones.

Powell’s book is highly recommended for its many pure literary pleasures but also for its profound insights into aspects of modern life that are often obfuscated or ignored by other writers and media in our contemporary world oversaturated with often meaningless written and visual distractions.

C. Richard Mathews
New York-based art historian, writer and attorney

Recension du recueil ‘Entre Nous et Eux’ de Adam Donaldson Powell,

Le nouveau recueil de Adam Donaldson Powell intitulé Entre Nous et Eux reflète les talents multiples de l’auteur et comprend une série de textes aussi brillants que jubilatoires. Powell, l’activiste, est à la fois écrivain, poète, essayiste, peintre et photographe.  En outre, il écrit en anglais, sa langue maternelle, mais également en français, en norvégien et en espagnol.  Le lecteur découvrira dans ce volume des textes dans ces quatre langues, ce qui, dans notre monde hyper-connecté est encore une rareté, mais en même temps une grande richesse.

Ce volume est divisé en quatre parties: Poésie, une nouvelle intitulée “Death Poem”, et deux courts romans portant les titres suivants: “Entre Nous” et “The Stalker”.

Alors que ces textes évoquent de nombreux thèmes, le fil conducteur est celui des effets de la société et de la politique sur le développement de l’individu, au point où celui-ci ne comprend plus ou n’accepte tout simplement pas qui il est ou ce qu’il risque de devenir.  L’auteur suggère que les autres, c’est-à-dire, sa famille ou la société dans laquelle il évolue, est inapte à respecter, voire à accepter sa différence.

Le livre a pour prémices la poésie de Powell, poésie dans laquelle il excelle. Ses textes de fiction sont eux aussi parsemés de poèmes, plus ou moins longs. Les premiers poèmes traitent de l’enfance ayant pour cadre une capitale européenne, qui pourrait être Paris.  Et des conséquences, insidieuses ou cruelles, que le monde alentour peut avoir sur eux. Voyez cette gosse jouant à la marelle et qui s’éloigne précautionneusement d’un pédophile, cette autre que l’on moque parce qu’elle a ‘deux mères’, ou cette jeune musulmane malmenée à cause du hijab qu’elle porte. Que dire aussi de ce garçon basané que la police menotte dès qu’il prononce le mot Daesch, du traitement odieux que subissent les gitans, de leur ostracisme. L’auteur évoque également le choc que produisent les bombes explosant dans des zones de guerre.

Tandis que nombreux sont les poèmes traitant de problèmes de société, ils possèdent tous cette touche lyrique si propre à Powell. ‘Jeux d’Eau’ en est un parfait exemple.

La problématique du suicide apparaît ci et là: certains personnages ont du mal à s’accepter, d’autant plus lorsque leur entourage les rejette.

Ainsi, dans le premier roman, ‘Entre Nous’, l’ami de l’un des protagonistes meurt à la suite d’une overdose (peut-être délibérément), quelques jours après que les deux ont fait l’amour ensemble.

Dans la magnifique nouvelle ‘Death Poem’, qui met en scène deux jeunes hommes japonais, le père de l’un d’eux se suicide, apparemment à cause de l’homosexualité de son fils, lequel à son tour met fin à ses jours. Que ce soit dans ses textes de fiction ou dans sa poésie, Powell évoque le suicide en utilisant des éléments particuliers de la poésie japonaise. Y percevrait-on l’ombre de Mishima ?

Les deux romans mettent en scène des protagonistes sur des tranches de vie. ‘Entre Nous’ est raconté en partie sous forme épistolaire. On y parle d’amis gays, de leur interaction, de leurs expériences sexuelles vécues dans certaines grandes villes occidentales, telles que Paris, Londres ou New York, villes que l’auteur connaît bien. Powell, n’ayant pas froid aux yeux, n’hésite pas à écrire des ‘lettres d’amour’ contenant des mots crus, comme par exemple: “tu sais je vais….t’enculer”. Et cela pour ‘épater la galerie’, à l’instar de Baudelaire, Rimbaud, Verlaine – qui, à l’époque écrivaient sous des pseudonymes -, Genet, ainsi que d’autres écrivains français. Mais là, il ne s’agit pas uniquement de subterfuges, ces vers érotiques, voire pornographiques, participent de l’analyse subtile de ce qui constitue l’amour pluriel, qu’il s’agisse de la simple attraction physique et/ou des émotions qui peuvent en découler.

Le second roman, ‘The Stalker’, qui est plus long que l’autre, est l’histoire d’une jeune femme et de son amant, un homme trans-genre, qui se demande s’il peut être “une lesbienne dans le corps d’un homme”. Le thème principal ici est celui de l’identité qui, envers et contre tout, tente de s’affirmer et de trouver un équilibre.

Malgré la gravité des sujets abordés, le lecteur pourra apprécier, tout au long du volume, la veine humoristique et spirituelle de l’auteur, à l’instar d’un Proust qui se ‘moque’ gentiment de certains de ses personnages. Powell joue avec les mots et s’amuse à juxtaposer des images, comme dans ‘La lettre d’une prostituée’, où l’auteur écrit: “J’aimerais parfois me mettre dans la peau de quelqu’un d’autre…”, ou encore, “mots doux et traitres à la fois…”. D’autres  exemples me viennent à l’esprit, tels que “lips part revealing your lizard tongue” , ”blood-red sugary tension of domestic rape”, ou encore, ”the relentless fantasy is more than the sum of reality’s individual parts”.

L’on trouve des passages particulièrement jouissifs tout au long de cette oeuvre si singulière, rappelant les leitmotifs de Wagner. L’un des personnages écoute un ancien vinyle de Donald O’Connor et de Marilyn Monroe chantant “a man chases a girl (until she catches him)”. Plus loin, il y a une scène dans laquelle Karol/Mariusz montre l’un de ses poèmes à un prêtre, où il écrit: “I delight in chasing straight boys until they catch me”.

Dans ce livre, qu’il s’agisse de poésie ou de prose, le style est clair, précis, et à la fois engageant, sans jamais être pompeux, même lorsque l’auteur traite de sujets graves.

Cette oeuvre mérite d’être lue pour diverses raisons. D’abord pour la belle phrase, un plaisir purement littéraire, ensuite parce que Powell aborde ici des thèmes de notre société contemporaine qui souvent sont, soit ignorés par d’autres écrivains et les média, soit négligés en raison de la quantité phénoménale de distractions vaines, aussi bien pseudo-littéraires que visuelles, que l’on nous bombarde quotidiennement.

C. Richard Mathews, historien de l’art, écrivain et avocat new yorkais

ORDER “ENTRE NOUS ET EUX” (PAPERBACK & EBOOK) HERE!


ebookcover

 

All about Adam.

 

the tunnel

REVIEWS OF ADAM’S LAST NOVEL: “THE TUNNEL AT THE END OF TIME”:

🔳 “LOOK INTO YOURSELF”
By Irene Brodsky on June 8, 2010
Format: Paperback
“The Tunnel At The End of Time” written in English/Russian by Adam Donaldson Powell and Rick Davis, with foreword by Adam Donaldson Powell and Azsacra Zarathustra.

It is an honor to review this most eye-opening, very well written and beautifully expressed book of poetry & drama that was written in two languages; and also includes a 14 Act Play! The book appears to be a serious look into one’s self, soul, being, spirit, surroundings, thoughts, reactions, and can be seen as philosophical, religious, mystical, spiritual, anger, reaching out for an answer, telling it like it is, no holds barred. I recommend this outstanding book for adults, age 18 & over because there is some strong language to express one’s deep feelings.

This book would be an excellent addition to the libraries and I am giving my own personal copy of this book to the landmark Brooklyn Public Library Grand Army Plaza Central Branch. It is my recommendation that the library catalog this book, and place it on their shelf where it can be shared by many readers. In this way, Mr. Powell’s magnificent book will be automatically added to The World Catalog of Books which is the greatest honor a writer can ever have.

It was my pleasure to review Mr. Powell’s book and recommend it very highly.

Sincerely, 
Irene Brodsky

Faculty Member Brooklyn College City University of New York
Teacher of Philosophy – adult education program
author of Poetry Unplugged
and The Adventures of Silly Kitty, Princess Jasmine and First Puppy

🔳 A New Way of Writing
By Isagani R. Cruz on March 5, 2010
Format: Paperback

The Tunnel at the End of Time is a masterful symphony of languages, religions, cultures, and literary techniques, all journeying to one inevitable destination: the individual wrestling with self. Covering our most human to our most divine urges and activities, the poetic, science fictional, experimental, even cinematic book leads us through words to what is beyond or behind words: the inscrutable mystery of our own being or, more precisely since the book revels in Emptiness, our non-being. In the process of stripping away the several skins that we use to protect our inner selves and to keep us from exercising our freedom to live a full life, the book also comments on writing itself, turning itself inside out, so to speak, so that we are forced as readers to become the writers themselves, merging our selves with theirs without meaning to and without remembering the meaning that we wanted to find, finding ourselves apparently in the future but actually in the present, or even more precisely, in the past, as time stops for us. In the end, the future humans, aliens, and angels turn out to be really us today, as we find ourselves aliens within ourselves, alienated not from the world as lesser writers would have put it, but from ourselves, as only the truly alive realize, perhaps as only angels really know. For those less inclined towards philosophy, the book offers gripping suspense, continuous action, and provocative scenes; the narrative scaffolding, however, is there only to lead readers to deeper levels of reading. I recommend this book to everyone honest enough to admit that we do not know ourselves or that we are not just nothing, but perhaps even Nothingness itself. Have fun, but be warned!

🔳 Powell’s great interest in spiritual alchemy and extra-sensory world inspired him to write THE TUNNEL AT THE END OF TIME
By Dr. Karunesh Kumar Agrawal on September 8, 2012
Format: Paperback

Powell’s great interest in spiritual alchemy and extra-sensory world inspired him to write THE TUNNEL AT THE END OF TIME (Feb 2010) in collaboration with Rick Davis, the follow-up novella to 2014 with a poetic introduction by both Powell and Azsacra Zarathustra a poetic dialogue with the Russian artist/author Azsacra Zarathustra, entitled: “Transforma und Vrebatima,” an English-Russian poetic follow-up to “2014: the life and adventures of an incarnated angel” TRANSFORMA UND VREBATIMA is an epic poem, written by Azsacra Zarathustra (Russia) and Adam Donaldson Powell (Norway), primarily in English and Russian.

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“Creating art and literature requires a creative imagination as well as the ability to get things done in a disciplined manner. Live in the moment, and plan for tomorrow.”
— Adam Donaldson Powell

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SHORT AUTHOR BIO:

ADAM DONALDSON POWELL (Norway) is a multilingual author, literary critic, and art photography critic; and a professional visual artist. He has published several literary books (including collections of poetry, short stories, and novellas, two science fiction novels, and essays) in the USA, Norway and India; as well as numerous works in international literary publications on several continents. He writes in English, Spanish, French and Norwegian. He has previously authored theatrical works performed onstage, and he has read his poetry at venues in New York City (USA), Oslo (Norway), Buenos Aires (Argentina), and Kathmandu (Nepal). His book “Gaytude” (co-authored with Albert Russo) won the 2009 National Indie Excellence Award in the category gay/lesbian non-fiction. Powell was also the winner of the Azsacra International Poetry Award in 2008, and the recipient of a Norwegian Foreign Ministry travel stipend for authors in 2005. Powell also took initiative to planning and organizing the “Words – one path to peace and understanding” international literary festival in Oslo, Norway in 2008. He has been an author under the Cyberwit label since 2005, and he has published 12 literary books since 1987.

 

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PERSONAL STATEMENT ABOUT EXTREME ART AND LITERATURE:

“Extreme literature” can be philosophical, political, religious, sexually-oriented, profane, or just downright ‘dangerous’ because it rocks others’ boat(s) personally. Not all literature is “pretty”, and even humour can be considered provocative. Many authors have works they (and others) consider to be “extreme”. All throughout the history of art and literature, artists and writers have pressed against and played with society’s tolerances – in both “liberal” epochs, “conservative” epochs and (as now) in states of “moral confusion”, where Western concepts of freedom of speech sometimes butt against national and local cultural mores and social politics; and where danger lurks and thrives on non-specific and situational social codes and fears.

The concept of ‘EXTREME ART AND LITERATURE’ changes all the time. What is actually ‘extreme’ today – in a mixture of globalised, regionalised, nationalised and localised perspectives? My own opinion is that ‘extreme art and literature’ today takes its starting point in the accepted banalities of everyday life, experiences and consciousness on the respective and combined levels (social, philosophical, political, economical, sexual and spiritual). Contemporary ‘extreme art / literature’ no longer attempts to shock in an obvious way, but rather entices the public to feel that he / she is a ‘member’ of the experiential understanding and consciousness, only to interject a “triggering” aspect that creates a sense of uncomfortableness caused by the realization that one has been busted by a banality. These “trigger mechanisms” are (in fact) integral parts of the art itself – often passing by in fleeting moments, sometimes blended in with an obsessive and “flat” (journalistic or photojournalistic) expression or a long tirade of banalities that do not even pretend to be surrealistic. These small “electrical shock” triggers will hopefully ignite an inner experience within the public so that the viewer / reader begins to investigate his / her own personal reality, his / her actual contributions to a collective reality and hopefully to re-evaluate his / her own concept of what one prefers to create as an individual and collective reality. The illusion of spiritual and emotion separation (the illusion that we are all separate, individual and self-sustaining entities that can determine our roles on Terra or in the Interlife totally without contact or influence with / from others) is a vital element here, and that common illusion is therefore “fertile ground” for artists. Here we artists and authors can play, provoke, prevaricate, entice, seduce and fool the audience to believe in us as a part of “themselves”, and then trigger the reader / viewer to consider the possibility that there might be (in fact) a miscommunication or misconception running loose … a sense of everyday reality that is inconsistent or which has consequences that one was never aware of.

Perhaps the most meaningful and interactive way to help another person to ‘wake up’ from their perceptual drowsiness is to enter into their everyday dreams and illusions (their banalities) and suddenly say “BOO !!!” Artists and authors who attempt to shock through their art with the blatantly obvious, often thus fail to explore and exploit the deeper, symbolic depths of the subconscious and the more mystical elements that make up our everyday and banal thoughts, activities, attitudes etc., and therefore are denied “personal access” by some viewers / readers who may consider the art to be too intellectual, too elitist, too directly confrontational, or too foreign. Sex and religion are often used today in art and literature as “shock elements”. It is not necessarily sex or religion which are provocative or interesting in themselves, but rather the unspoken and quietly accepted perceptions that we chain ourselves to unquestionably, and which can totally be set in chaos just by the artist and author changing or adding one simple element or context that we do not feel belongs in our reality-defining “picture”.

‘Extreme art and literature’ is thus not blatantly provocative in itself; it rather shows the audience the possible ramifications of acceptance, non-involvement, personal meanings and behaviour by confronting us with triggered or mixed in ‘extreme’ moments, and then lets the audience choose to begin its own personal creative life process of evalution and re-creation (if desired) … without commentary or guidance.

When I recently presented myself to Marina Abramovic as a “retired activist” she responded by asking me if an activist can ever be finished with activism. Of course, she is right. The process of rebellion is nothing more than one intermittent set of activities and actions in a constant redefining and assertion of the Self, both individually and collectively. Art is the ultimate expression of the process of rebellion. If an artist loses that quality, he/she “dies” in a certain way. My art and literature are not just extensions of me … they are my created persona: a sweet mixture of heaven and hell, with a pinch of mediocrity for flavoring.

Adam Donaldson Powell, Norway

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NEWS! EXCITING NEW BOOK NOW AVAILABLE FOR DOWNLOAD ON AMAZON.COM AS PAPERBACK, AS WELL AS AN E-BOOK:

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“ENTRE NOUS ET EUX” is my latest book, and it is now available in print form at Amazon.com: ENTRE NOUS ET EUX – CONTES DE FÉES POUR ADULTES, 347 pages, Cyberwit.net, ISBN 978-93-85945-48-9, © 2017, India (LGBT – Novellas and poetry, Fairytales for adults – in English, French, Spanish and Norwegian).

Purchase the e-book version online here  ⤵️
ebookcover

this book is
dedicated
to my Rodo

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BOOK FOREWORD BY ALBERT RUSSO

If there is one poet who will mark this 21st century, I ask you, dear reader and lover of literature, to discover, or rediscover an artist named Adam Donaldson Powell. I use both words purposely: literature and art, because this “Esprit Universel” is a multi-talented man who excels in whatever discipline he tackles: poetry, fiction, essays, photography, painting, and goodness knows what else. He probably has other hidden secrets that will enchant the aesthete, once he pulls them out of his magic hat. By the way, he also writes in several languages. And proficiently, what’s more! 

It is much too restrictive to call Adam Donaldson Powell a gay poet, or gay whatever. And yet, he describes love, gay or not, with the most sensual, elegant, compassionate, but also at times crude, vengeful and downright poisonous words. He wears ‘no gloves’ as the French say, when it comes to telling a story – yes, his poems have themes too, which makes them reachable to the adult public, even to those who don’t care much for poetry – of abused children, scorned transvestites, sons and daughters of mixed blood, or prostitutes who are prey to the most despicable whoremongers, roaming the streets of every capital and city, large and small, of our planet. But, oh lovers of beauty and eroticism of the finest quality, delve into some of his romantic poems and you will dream that you are the hero or the heroine of these verses! It has often been my case. 

There are millions of scribblers on the Net who think they are poets. Some excellent poets do exist, but here I urge you to read these humble lines, for you will never regret having tasted the equal of our century’s Verlaine, Rimbaud or Baudelaire. Adam Donaldson Powell’s own FLEURS DU MAL are flowers to be treasured a lifetime. 

  • Albert Russo 2017

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➡️ ADAM DONALDSON POWELL’S AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE ⬅️

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MY PUBLICATION HISTORY:

I have published various literary works: poems, stories, novellas/short novels, literary criticism, essays, art photography criticism; and also work with painting and photography. I was born in the USA, and reside in Norway. I have been a professional visual artist (since 1995) and a writer (since 1987). I have published 12 books, in USA, Norway and India, as well as 4 e-books and several short works in literary publications. Among my many literary and artistic themes are multilingualism, the transcultural, spiritual development, societal development, LGBT issues, hiv/aids etc. I have written, performed and published works in English, Spanish, French and Norwegian. My poetry and essays have been translated into several languages, including: Spanish, French, Russian, Japanese and Bengali.

I have had one-man and group exhibitions at art galleries and public institutions in Norway and Sweden. My art serves as book cover art and internet art as well as fine art.

Adam’s profile at Saatchi Online Gallery

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MY TWO LATEST PRINT BOOK PUBLICATIONS:

“ENTRE NOUS ET EUX” is my latest book, and it is now available in print form at Amazon.com: ENTRE NOUS ET EUX – CONTES DE FÉES POUR ADULTES, 347 pages, Cyberwit.net, ISBN 978-93-85945-48-9, © 2017, India (LGBT – Novellas and poetry, Fairytales for adults – in English, French, Spanish and Norwegian).

The e-book is already available at amazon.com:

Purchase the e-book version online now ⤵️
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SEE MY AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE: AT AMAZON!

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My book “JISEI” is available for orders at CYBERWIT and AMAZON.COM

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Paperback: 245 pages
Publisher: Cyberwit.net (May 2, 2013)
Languages: English, French, Spanish, Norwegian, Japanese, Russian, Filipino
ISBN-10: 8182534038
ISBN-13: 978-8182534032

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COMMENTS ABOUT “JISEI” FROM AUTHORS AROUND THE WORLD:

J. Richard “Rick” Davis (USA):

This book of poetry, is more than just a collection of poems, on life, death, and AIDS. It is a guidebook for anyone struggling with the meaning of it all – whether it’s AIDS, or cancer or any travail that is causing one to question the meaning and purpose of why we’re on this planet.

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Albert Russo (FRANCE):

Qui est Adam Donaldson Powell? Ce poète rare qui parle de la beauté, de l’amour, de l’amitié, comme l’homme découvrant le monde à l’aube de l’humanité. Avec angélisme, direz-vous? Aucunement, il en parle avec la poésie du philosophe et du mystique. Il traite la maladie et la mort, non comme des ennemies, mais comme des connaissances, avec sérénité, presque avec sympathie, il va même jusqu’à causer avec elles comme l’on cause avec des passagers lors d’un voyage. Il se mets même à blaguer avec ces trublions, sachant qu’au bout du compte, il retrouvera la dernière.

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Maria Cristina Azcona (ARGENTINA):

Adam es el esclavo líbero, el que rompió las cadenas y nos golpea con su martillo de oro las nuestras, incluso aquellas que volvemos a crear a cada momento, enfermos pero de la cabeza mientras él, enfermo del cuerpo está cada vez mejor de la lucidez mental, cada vez más cuerdo y descarnado. Su poesía es cada vez más aleteo y menos cuerpo, más alma y menos carne, más verdad y más arte hasta que llegará el momento ese sublime en que el hombre se hará poema, para siempre, en nuestra mente que ahora, tarde, podrá ver en el interior de su alma.

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Lisbet Norderhaug (NORWAY):

I disse vidunderlige, dype og mørke diktene kan vi synke inn i oss selv og la oss treffe av lyset som gjennomstråler mørket. Adam har satt ord på den gjenkjennelige fortvilelsen over å måtte forlate livet, men han beskriver også gløden som skinner til oss fra den andre siden. Han har hevet, ja, transformert, historien om ett menneskes dødsprosess til en sang for oss alle.

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EXCERPT FROM BOOK INTRODUCTION:

AIDS has changed the world in more ways than we may possibly know. We will never fully comprehend the impact of losing so many people taken by this disease. Their contributions could have altered the face of humanity, the world of art and literature, the rearing of future leaders, the impact on communities, and the hearts of countless individuals. And this is all looking at the impact of AIDS in a broad perspective. It is a disease that, regardless of our own personal admissions, affects us all. However, behind the public fray of communal loss, social change and medical advances, lies the experience of the individual who must still awaken each day with the acknowledgment that they carry inside of them an evident ticking time bomb. No different from the rest of us who live with our own mortality, but distinct in that their clock has a name. That name is AIDS.

— Christina Landles-Cobb (USA)

COMMENT BY THE AUTHOR:
My first public performance of my poetry in New York City was at a trendy art gallery in the SoHo district, back in 1986. The place was packed, wall-to-wall, and the audience was enthusiastic. I was reading from my soon-to-be-published first book of poems, entitled “Notes of a Madman” which was an illustrated collection of mystical poetry from Pagan and Sufi traditions. The gallery owner, an enigmatic young man, was particularly obsessed with the poems and spiritual messages in the slender volume of verse, and he read the book over and over again. Some months after the reading I again called the gallery to say “hello” and another young man answered the phone, saying in a somber voice: “Didn’t you know? He passed away shortly after your reading.” He had died of AIDS.

That beautiful young man hung onto my verse in a time of deep personal transformation. I have never forgotten the awe and sense of responsibility I felt after that telephone conversation. Since then, I have always written and painted with the intent of inspiring creativity and transformation in humanity. And now that I have — myself — lived with the AIDS virus for twenty years it feels appropriate to inspire once again through writing about one of the greatest transformations Mankind can ever know. It does not matter what we die of … every Soul and Life Expression is precious, and to be celebrated.

I die (and I am reborn) just a little bit each day of my life. Should any given moment be my last, then my epitaph will surely be the sum of all my thoughts, poems and tears of joy and sorrow … from day to day, over the course of eternity. Perhaps just one of these short daily poems will touch upon a few readers and lend a bit of realization of the magic that each of us creates in our personal and collective transformations.

– Adam Donaldson Powell

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The tunnel at the end of time (co-written with Rick Davis and Azsacra Zarathustra), Cyberwit.net, ISBN 978-81-8253-160-4, © 2010, India (LGBT – gay characters, extreme sci-fi).

REVIEW BY DR. ISAGANI R. CRUZ, THE PHILIPPINES:

The Tunnel at the End of Time is a masterful symphony of languages, religions, cultures, and literary techniques, all journeying to one inevitable destination: the individual wrestling with self. Covering our most human to our most divine urges and activities, the poetic, science fictional, experimental, even cinematic book leads us through words to what is beyond or behind words: the inscrutable mystery of our own being or, more precisely since the book revels in Emptiness, our non-being. In the process of stripping away the several skins that we use to protect our inner selves and to keep us from exercising our freedom to live a full life, the book also comments on writing itself, turning itself inside out, so to speak, so that we are forced as readers to become the writers themselves, merging our selves with theirs without meaning to and without remembering the meaning that we wanted to find, finding ourselves apparently in the future but actually in the present, or even more precisely, in the past, as time stops for us. In the end, the future humans, aliens, and angels turn out to be really us today, as we find ourselves aliens within ourselves, alienated not from the world as lesser writers would have put it, but from ourselves, as only the truly alive realize, perhaps as only angels really know. For those less inclined towards philosophy, the book offers gripping suspense, continuous action, and provocative scenes; the narrative scaffolding, however, is there only to lead readers to deeper levels of reading. I recommend this book to everyone honest enough to admit that we do not know ourselves or that we are not just nothing, but perhaps even Nothingness itself. Have fun, but be warned!

MY RECENT AND PREVIOUS PRINT BOOK PUBLICATIONS:

ENTRE NOUS ET EUX – CONTES DE FÉES POUR ADULTES, 347 pages, Cyberwit.net, ISBN 978-93-85945-48-9, © 2017, India (LGBT – Novellas and poetry, Fairytales for adults – in English, French, Spanish and Norwegian).

Jisei: death poems and daily reflections by a person with AIDS, 246 pages, Cyberwit.net, ISBN 978-81-8253-403-2, © 2013, India (LGBT – HIV/AIDS).

The tunnel at the end of time, 233 pages, Cyberwit.net, ISBN 978-81-8253-160-4, © 2010, India (LGBT – gay characters, extreme sci-fi).

Malerier og fotokunst, is a short 38-page retrospective overview of some of Adam Donaldson Powell’s best known oil paintings and photographic art works. Published by Cyberwit.net as a special limited and numbered full-color, soft cover edition (55 copies only), ISBN 978-81-8253-154-3, India, © 2009.

Gaytude: a poetic journey around the world, gay poetry in English and French by Albert Russo and Adam Donaldson Powell, 335 pages, published by Xlibris Corporation, © 2009, Library of Congress Control Number: 2008907964, ISBN: Hardcover 978-1-4363-6396-9, ISBN: Softcover 978-1-4363-6395-2, USA (LGBT).

KASSA’S REVIEW OF GAYTUDE:

Gaytude is a collection of poetry that appears in English in the first half and then translated into French for the second half of the book. There is also a collection of pictures depicting homoerotic images throughout history as well as personal images of Albert Russo. The timelessness of these pictures is repeated as a theme within the elegant and often poignant poetry collected. The authors are two very accomplished writers who tackle a wide variety of subjects and themes that affect gay men with surprising depth and meaning. These topics will hit home especially for like-minded individuals but anyone with compassion will understand the beauty and heartache these issues bring to mind.

The poetry is divided by region of the globe, from Africa to Americas to Europe and Asia. The variety of styles changes from short and simple to longer, and even haiku. The tone runs from sweet, sexy, and often humorous to intense and moving. Frequently the language of Russo’s poetry is simple and direct, taking away nothing from the intensity of the message and meaning, yet easy for even the most novice reader to connect and appreciate. Russo’s creativity is unquestionable as he spans numerous taboo subjects and makes no apologies for his desires or sensuality. These themes range from open sexuality to disease, hypocrisy and violence; including one nightstands to long-term relationships, breakups, makeups and admiration of the male form.

An example of Russo’s poignant writing is from Prayer:

“let him love that boy
without shame;
let him love him
in broad daylight
for his sentiments are
stronger than
your malicious gossip,
more generous than
your shrunken hearts”

Blending well is Powell’s poetry, which has elegance to the words and gives weight to each one, seeming as if nothing is wasted. Not a thought, an idea or a desire is anything more than necessary as he speaks of a love he yearns for. Yet Powell also delivers strongly worded poems regarding the hypocrisy of governments, penis enlargement spam emails, prostitutes, and casual violence. A great example is this excerpt from Let’s Get Something Straight:

And for God’s sake don’t you ever
Tell anyone about this…
(if you know what is best for you)
Agreed ? Good ! Now ‘manhandle’ me bitch…

There are few topics these authors feared to invite in for speculation ~ transsexuals, persecution, random sex, AIDS, family pressure, lies, promiscuity, marriage, children, oppression, prejudice, orgies. Taken together this is a look into the lives of any and every gay men and the issues they deal with that create an aura of “different” around them. This celebration of gay life spans globally and encompasses all aspects proudly and openly.

Gaytude is a wonderful collection by two powerful authors that have offered thoughts on timeless themes. Although I can’t claim to be an authority on poetry and perhaps the authors themselves will cringe at my amateur review, I hope to have captured the spirit of this collection.

DR. SANTOSH KUMAR’S CRITICAL ANALYSIS OF GAYTUDE:

A review of GAYTUDE: a poetic journey around the world / Tour du monde poetique, bilingual poetry by Albert Russo and Adam Donaldson Powell – Xlibris 2009, 335 pages.

Book orders – 888.795.4274 -Orders@xlibris.com

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-4363-6395-2 – $22.99
Hardback ISBN: 978-1-4363-6396-9 – $32.99

Library of Congress Number: 2008907964

Albert Russo and Adam Donaldson Powells Gaytude, a poetic journey around the world, makes it evident that the gay poems always have a distinctive voice, because a gay poet suffers from a sense of ostracism, of being excluded by others due to difference. The tradition of celebrating Platonic friendship with a boy has always been there in world poetry. Gay poetry from Sappho to Michelangelo has always idealized the homoerotic world. Catullus (ca. 84-54) loved sex with young men.

Shakespeare’s sonnets have been described as gay sonnets by several critics. It is well known that Derek Jarmans film The Angelic Conversation (1985) shows gay elements in Shakespeares sonnets. Lord Alfred Douglass gay poems appeared in 1896 in English and French translations. In the twentieth century two great poets: W..H. Auden and Ginsberg wrote gay poems. The publication of The Penguin Book of Homosexual Verse (1983) reveals its popularity and marketing needs. It is difficult to agree with the critics who condemn Whitmans gay poetry. The Boston Intelligencer declared that Whitman deserved no better reward than the lash for vulgarity and violation of decency. Both Whitmans Leaves and Emersons laudation had a common origin in temporary insanity (Bucke 201). Walt Whitman is as unacquainted with art as a hog with mathematics (Canby 327). One should never forget that according to several biographers Whitman did not engage in sexual relations with men.

It is true that a poets gay identity does not quite fit into the traditional morality of the world. This is the main reason behind vituperative hostility towards homoeroticism and gay-themed poems. But one may remember Nietzsches assertion that sexuality extends up to the very pinnacle of the soul. The queerness of Russo and Powell both to stand at a different angle to the universe, their desire for an outsider image, and a subversive quality enticing them to overthrow conventions makes Gaytude a classic. Taboo creates its own power and energy in a creative work like Gaytude. This is also true about other gay writers such as Walt Whitman, Elizabeth Bishop and James Merrill. Russo is a great poet with a passionate impulse, and he expresses it with a natural intensity devoid of any kind of laborious artistry:

I shall spoil you as no lover
Ever has or will

(SURPRISE PARTY, 35).

As we made love
Our bodies were on fire
You were insatiable
I was submissive

(ONE-NIGHT STAND, 102)

Russo does not hanker after limited joy but rather for the illimitable in the loveliness of the human body. Due to his ardor, he bursts with joy:

Our bodies commingle
In a Pacific splash of ecstasy

(UNDERCURRENTS, 42).

Russo tries to forget the stern realities of life, and his idealized love seems to be the only permanent reality for him on the altar of passion, he has chosen to fall off the cliff although there are several obstructions:

Theres his age, you see
And theres my career, too
Then theres that awesome responsibility
Towards my class
Towards society
And I am highly respected by my peers
Yet, my attraction to him is gravitational
One of these days,
I shall fall off the cliff

NO TRESPASSING, 51

The above lines are a testimony to the fact that Russo arrives at the complexity by accumulating a number of concrete images interfering with his fantasy, and this fantasy is intensified in the last line revealing the utmost limits of passion, not obliterated by the terrestrial impediments. Russos poems in Gaytude are marked by a tremendous burst of creativity.

Adam Donaldson Powells poems reveal that the poets mind and imagination are fused with the white heat of ardor. He is obsessed with two moths / Playing with fire (BLADE, 24). In his poem IDENTITY, Powell expresses his desire to be loved, and looked up to. He seems to be in the quest for the sumum bonum of life, that immortal instant and great moment which will unravel his identity. With quiet determination, Powell declares:

I want a real lover
Like Arthur Rimbaud or Jean Genet
And I want him now

PUNK, 61

Powell shows such a deep and lofty feeling as to be in love with love (STILL HORNY, 153). This is the state of the lover as Powell depicts it. Apart from love, nothing else in life is significant. Such is the consecrated passion of the poet that he is able to write with such ecstatic outbursts:

Creamy overcast skies,
Thick as yoghurt,
Remind me of
Youand me

CREAMY OVERCAST SKIES 154

Setting the real world at nought, Powell decides to thrive on the diet of surrealism by

the technique of transference:
Real briefly becomes surreal,
Through transference

INSTANT RECALL 88

In another poem, Powell expresses his inner heart in reacting against monstrous mechanization. The present climate is not in favour of rich heritage. Individual isolation in an / Out-of-control jungle (149) is the sordid gift of modern heritage marked by Wars, / Lies, /Plastic reality-show idols, Virus, / Global warming, /Uncertainty, /And all too easy access to drugs (HERITAGE? RIGHT! 149).

The poems by Russo and Powell are marked by outsiderhood, the sense of being different from a fashionable or straight mode of writing. Walter Pater aptly comments that in the poetry of Dante Gabriel Rossetti the dream-land with its phantoms of the body, deftly coming and going on loves service, is to him, in no mere fancy or figure of speech, a real country, a veritable expansion or addition to our waking life (Pater 223). This comment is fully applicable to the poems in Gaytude by Russo and Powell. Gaytude, bilingual poetry at its best, written, translated and adapted by Russo and Powell, also includes wonderful photographs by Russo. Several poems of Russo included in Gaytude were first published in the poets own French version in the collection Tour du monde de la poesie gay (2005). The poems in English, Italian and Spanish have been translated and adapted into French by Russo. The poems in French have been translated and adapted by both Russo and Powell.

Works Cited

Russo, Albert & Adam Donaldson Powell, Gaytude. Xlibris Corporation, 2009.
Pater, Walter. Appreciations. London: Macmillan, 1931.
Bucke, R. M. Walt Whitman, Philadelphia, McRay,1883.
Canby, H. S. Walt Whitman, N. Y. Literary Classics, 1943.

Santosh Kumar (b. 1946) is a poet, short-story writer and an editor from UP India; DPhil in English; Editor of Taj Mahal Review and Harvests of New Millennium Journals; several awards; member of World Poets Society (W.P.S.); member of World Haiku Association, Japan; presented papers in the seminar, interviews as special guest at international literary festival WORDS – one path to peace and understanding Oslo, Norway in September 2008; published poetry in Indian Verse by Young Poets (1980), World Poetry (1995 & 1996), The Fabric of A Vision (2001), The Still Horizon (2002), The Golden Wings (2002), Voyages (2003), Symphonies (2003), New Pegasus (2004), Explorers (2004), Dwan (USA), Promise (Purple Rose Publications, USA), Taj Mahal Review (2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007 & 2008). He has also edited sixteen World Poetry Anthologies, and four books of World’s Great Short Stories. He is also the author of a collection of poems entitled Helicon (Cyberwit , India , ISBN 81-901366-8-2), Haiku collection New Utopia (Rochak Publishing , India ISBN 978-81-903812-0-8), and Critical Essays in collaboration with Adam Donaldson Powell (Cyberwit , India , 978-81-8253-110-9).

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PREVIOUS BOOK PUBLICATIONS – continued:
GAYTUDE WAS THE 2009 NATIONAL INDIE EXCELLENCE AWARD WINNER FOR THE CATEGORY GAY/LESBIAN NONFICTION!

2014: the life and adventures of an incarnated angel, 135 pages, Cyberwit.net, ISBN 978-81-8253-118-5, © 2008, India (LGBT – gay characters, extreme sci-fi).

Critical Essays, literary and photobook criticism by Adam Donaldson Powell and Dr. Santosh Kumar, 108 pages, Cyberwit.net, ISBN 978-81-8253-110-9, © 2008, India.

Le Paradis (Paradise), 80 pages, Cyberwit.net, ISBN 978-81-8253-103-1, © 2008, India. Includes a booklet with symbols from The Universal Language of Light, as seen by Laila Holand.

Rapture: endings of space and time (86 pages), Cyberwit,net, ISBN 978-81-8253-083-6, © 2007, India.

Three-legged Waltz, (80 pages), Cyberwit.net, ISBN 818253058X, © 2006, India.

Collected Poems and Stories, (175 pages), Cyberwit.net, ISBN 8182530288, © 2005, India.

Arcana and other archetypes, (special limited edition – hardback collection of poetry, 80 pages), AIM Chapbooks ANS, © 2001, Norway (now out-of-print).

Notes of a Madman, (hardback collection of poetry, 35 pages), Winston-Derek Publishers, Inc., © 1987, ISBN 1-55523-054-7, USA (now out-of-print).

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Other publication experience (selected):

Essays, literary criticism and photobook criticism by Adam Donaldson Powell have appeared in many literary magazines, literary websites, newspapers etc., including but not limited to: Small Press Review, Ginyu, Los Muestros, Inyathi, Lynx Online Literary Magazine, Skyline Review, Taj Mahal Review, Samora Magazine, Kritya: a journal of poetry, Writer’s Cramp, Portugal News, Skyline Magazine’s and Hudson View Poetry Digest’s literary criticism website etc. Adam has reviewed many talented authors and art photography book artists, including: Albert Russo, Pradip Choudhuri, Jan Oskar Hansen, Shirley Bolstok, Robert P. Craig, Mary Barnet, Literary House Review 2007, Orania Hamilton, AZsacra Zarathustra and Jgor Pyatinin, Geert Verbeke, Barbara Elizabeth Mercer, Alan D. Busch, Fernando Rodríguez, Victoria Valentine, Vijaiganga, Marie Mappley, Robert M. Wilson, Linda A. Peters, Ban’ya Natsuishi, Sayumi Kamakura, Moshé Liba, T. Wignesan etc.

Adam has written prefaces for books, and edited novels and books of poetry, as well as individual poems and short stories, written by several other authors.

Adam’s own literary works and artworks have appeared in several literary reviews and journals, anthologies, online magazines, literary websites etc. on several continents.

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Distinctions and memberships:

GAYTUDE WAS THE 2009 NATIONAL INDIE EXCELLENCE AWARD WINNER FOR THE CATEGORY GAY/LESBIAN NONFICTION!

Adam Donaldson Powell på Wikipedia Norge

Steering committee, WORDS: one path to peace and understanding, Oslo, 2008. Read the ONLINE REPORT.

Winner of the AZsacra International Poetry Award, 2008

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Recipient of Norwegian Foreign Ministry’s travel stipend for authors, 2005.

QUOTE:

“There is no doubt that Powell, Robert Lowell, Elizabeth Bishop, Sylvia Plath, John Berryman, Randall Jarrell, and Delmore Schwartz are the most talented American poets of the modern age.” — Dr. Santosh Kumar, Allahabad University, 2010, from his book entitled: Adam Donaldson Powell: the making of a poet.

ABOVE QUOTE FROM A BOOK BY DR. SANTOSH KUMAR, INDIA:
“Adam Donaldson Powell: The Making of a Poet”, a critical analysis of the published works of Adam Donaldson Powell. Order the book from Cyberwit.net: NOW!

Read excerpts from this book HERE!

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MEMBER OF:
BONO
World Poets Society
Poetas del Mundo
Norwegian P.E.N.
Bilingual MCA
IFLAC-Argentina

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DEGREES AND EDUCATION:
New York University, Master of Public Administration, 1985.
Goddard College, Bachelor of Arts, 1974.
Language studies in Norwegian, Spanish and French in the USA and Norway.
Post-graduate studies in international business administration (BI School of Management).
Private piano studies with several renowned concert pianists, including: Jacob Lateiner, Arminda Canteros, Berenice Lipsen-Grüzen and John Ranck.

Adam Donaldson Powell and Cathy Craig

(Violin-Piano duo: Catherine Craig and Adam Donaldson Powell, NYC; photo courtesy of Catherine Craig.)

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POETRY PERFORMANCE:

Adam has performed his poetry in English, French, Spanish and Norwegian, and at various venues from New York City to Oslo to Buenos Aires to Kathmandu.

(above photo courtesy Blikk Magazine, Norway)

SLIDESHOW: ADAM IN PICTURES

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MY FIRST TWO POETRY BOOKS:

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Notes of a Madman
Winston-Derek Publishers, USA
ISBN 1-55523-054-7
1987

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Arcana and other archetypes
AiM Chapbooks, Norway
2001

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MY LIFE AS AN ACTIVIST.

My own activist career began when I was a teenager, and – in spite of both my parents being careerists in the United States Air Force – I became an anti-war activist (Vietnam War) and conscientious objector. That activism had many expressions: from silent Quaker vigils to anti-war marches and rallies to getting thrown out of the courtroom of Judge Julius Hoffman (famous from the «Chicago Seven» trials) for civil disobedience while supporting a draft dodger. My activism has including working as an employee of organizations such as the American Friends Service Committee (a Quaker social service and peace education organization), the Partnership for the Homeless, Amnesty International Norway etc., working for the Norwegian government in support of the unemployed, immigrants, the disabled etc., establishing my own activist organizations in Norway in support of immigrants, artists/authors/dancers/actors/filmmakers, and also representing organizations that lobby for the rights of persons with HIV/AIDS. Being an activist has required me to constantly weigh whether my own convictions and interests are best served by working for or representing an existing organization, political parties, agency or institution OR working alone so that I may set my own specific agenda and choose my own methods of working. The latter has given me special satisfaction. In that regard I have used my talents as a speechwriter and public speaker, as a book author, as a musician, as a linguist, and as a visual artist to promote my ideas and my support for those who do not themselves have the possibility of getting their voices heard publicly. In 1994 I arranged Norway’s first World AIDS Day art exhibition (a tradition which I kept going until 2009), I have promoted the rights of immigrants and of performing, literary and visual artists, and debated with top politicians in Norway on television, radio and in the tabloids, I have represented persons with HIV/AIDS on behalf of the Norwegian government and otherwise at UNGASS (United Nations General Assembly Special Session – Declaration of Commitment on HIV/AIDS) as well as at international conferences in Norway and in other countries, I have initiated one-man protest demonstrations against individuals and government agencies that I felt abused the dignity or rights of the disabled and persons with HIV/AIDS, etc.; and I have been critical of other individual activists, government institutions, politicians, and also of activist organizations in the media. At times I have also worked within the «system», and as an advisor and cooperative partner to the system, and publicly defended specific government policies, and I have held office in a major political party. All this after personal analysis of the best ways to bring my activist ideas into government and organizational policy frameworks.

All my formal education and life experience comes into play in my activism: including my master degree in international and developmental public administration, my years of working for the government in Norway and as a university administrator and corporate writer/editor in the United States, and even my college bachelor of arts thesis (on the legal rights of minors {young persons} to consent to acquisition of contraceptives and to psychological counseling) which resulted in my own draft legislation eventually becoming state law in Vermont, and then later in Ohio.

I have also served on the board of directors of several organizations in Norway and in the USA which work in the areas of LGBT rights, the rights and needs of persons living with HIV/AIDS, the arts, and religious expression. And finally, I have organized international conferences for persons working in support of persons living with HIV/AIDS, as well as international and bilingual authors. I have held many speeches and been a high-profile spokesperson at conferences and in the media, and my visual art exhibitions and my authored books often address themes related to my areas of activism.

My most current expression of activism involves supporting and informing others through social media and the internet, as well as in my visual art and in my work as an author and editor – herein encouraging the voices of contemporary activists through literature.

~ Adam Donaldson Powell

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NO MORE WALLS. HUG A MEXICAN TODAY. “America … no te reconozco.”

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Trouble accessing this great video?
If so, then TRY THIS LINK!

AMÉRICA, NO TE RECONOZCO.

Imágenes de mi patria
destruídas por la realidad:

fronteras cerradas,
sospechas y
paranoia inherente …

impresiones digitales obligatorias …
registro electrónico de inmigrantes …
guerras preventivas de guerras.

América, no te reconozco.

(Shhhhh …)

América … No te reconozco …
No te reconozco …

América …

BOLERO MODERNO.

Las estatuas de los ángeles
tiemblan de miedo.

Las madres valerosas
lloran en secreto
al comienzo
de cada día de escuela.

Mentes bellas de jóvenes
torcidas
en un baile
perverso …
descarado.

Mientras
las bombas estallan,
las vírgenes prometidas
juegan al escondite …

y no se oye más música.

VERDE.

Manzanas,
peras, aceitunas,
apio, espárragos,
brocoli, aguacates,
árboles, esmeraldas,
chakra corazón,
ojos seductores,
culebras de Boy Scout,
política ambiental,
chaquetas militares,
dólares americanos,
avaricia, celos …
verde.

MIENTRAS ESPERAMOS

Pacientemente — nos mantenemos,
desesperados por creer en Dios,
en la justicia y la humanidad.
Repetidamente — sufrimos
nuestra propia ignorancia e inmovilidad.
Admirablemente — nos hacemos mártires,
e intentamos paliar nuestro dolor con santidad
y consideración.
Inevitablemente — nos vengamos,
con las mismas tácticas de nuestros agresores.
Últimamente — nos avergonzamos
por todos los que pensaban que éramos extraordinarios.
Típicamente — esperamos
que el mundo reconozca sus equivocadas críticas.
Irónicamente — no aprendemos nada,
y no se olvida ni se perdona.

ALEGRÍA.

¿Dónde buscamos la alegría?
¿En la sonrisa del niño
en su fiesta de cumpleaños?
¿En la cara del adolescente orgulloso
que alcanza su primer orgasmo?
¿En la mente del padre
cuando nace su primer nieto?
Repito …
¿Dónde buscamos la alegría?
¿En las noticias: que los gobiernos ricos
de occidente han dado
otra dura lección?
¿Escuchar que todo esta bajo control y
que los insurgentes han sido detenidos?
¿En el anuncio de que la economía mejora
o que pagaremos menos impuestos?
Repito …
¿Dónde buscamos la alegría?
¿En nuestras calles hermosas
llenas de mendigos y de ladrones?
¿En saber que la gente pobre del mundo
goza de más justicia y de menos pobreza?
¿En el trabajo por la paz y
la igualdad en un mundo para todos?
Repito …
¿Dónde buscamos la alegría?

BOUNDARIES.

Peripheral lines
in my psyche
and yours
dance and intersect
with agreement
and understanding.
But crossed
boundaries
lead both
dogs and nations
to quarrel.

ZODIAC.

You and he and they
in opposition to
my circle of One.
The moon is in Fresno —
long gone retrograde
and void of course.

OF FOOLS AND KINGS.

The tides of time
separate fools and kings
much as ocean waves:
swelling, crashing and
mixing water and sand —
and in a passing moment
one is indistinguishable
from the other.

ANOTHER AMERICA.

Few Americans know that
the face of Miss Liberty
is actually that of a
Frenchman’s mother.
Like the masses of immigrants who
yearly forsake old world for new,
we too see majesty of choice
through all-too-childish eyes:
“Rustler, hustler, bankerman, anchorman,
cop, fag, redneck, punk;
baglady, bastardbaby,
stockbroker, chimneystoker,
doctor, lawyer, plumber, drunk.”
Yes, we’re all watching you,
America … with Mom’s apple pie
on the kitchen table, and the
girl next door at our side.
One nation, trusting in God,
down to our last hard-earned dollar.
“Careful not to step on the crack …
broken backs are hard to mend!”
But the sons of Genet are most
grateful for the vigilant
two-in-a-thousand who
cross the seas frequently,
and dream …
of another America.

UNE AUTRE AMÉRIQUE.

Peu d’Américains savent
que le visage de Miss Liberty
est celui de la mère d’un Français.
Comme les foules d’immigrants qui
délaissèrent le vieux monde
pour le nouveau,
nous aussi, nous considérons
ce choix merveilleux
à travers un regard quelque peu enfantin :
“Voleur de bétail, gigolo, banquier,
présentateur de télé, flic, pédé, punk ;
clocharde, nouveau-né bâtard,
agent de change,
ramoneur, médecin, avocat,
plombier, ivrogne.”
Oui, Oh Amérique, nos yeux sont
tous rivés sur toi …
avec la tarte aux pommes de maman
qui attend, encore fumante, sur la table
de la kitchenette,
et la jolie voisine à nos côtés.
Une nation, qui croit en Dieu,
jusqu’à notre dernier dollar
si péniblement gagné.
“Attention au précipice …
un dos brisé est si dur à réparer !”
Mais les fils de Genet sont
on ne peut plus reconnaissants
à ceux qui — deux sur mille —
traversent fréquemment les océans
et qui rêvent …
d’une autre Amérique.

(adapté de l’anglais par Albert Russo)

Copyright Adam Donaldson Powell, all excerpted from “Three-legged Waltz” and “Gaytude: a poetic journey around the world”)

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2014: the life and adventures of an incarnated angel (excerpts).

2014: THE LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF AN INCARNATED ANGEL.

Many Terrans are still approaching the future with fear and trepidation. It is not too late to realise that our past, our present and our future are of our own creation, at every moment and through each thought, action/non-action and word spoken. And that – through the exercise of multi-intelligence (cognitive intelligence combined with intelligence of the heart and of the soul), and understanding that it is the illusion of separation (reinforced by greed for materialism and power) that maintains our fear-based galactic culture – we can, in fact, determine our present and our future … both individually and collectively.

“2014: the life and adventures of an incarnated angel” is a work of fiction, depicting one possible reality that we can create. It is not meant to be a prophecy that we should self-fulfill, nor is it written for entertainment value alone. It is designed to provoke reflection. The solutions are only to be found in each and every one of us – beyond the illusions and distractions of individual and collective separation.

‘Kodoish, Kodoish, Kodoish Adonai T’sabaoth’.

COMMENTS ON “2014” by Dr. Santosh Kumar, Allahabad University, India:

2014: the life and adventures of an incarnated angel by Adam Donaldson Powell, reveals Powell’s creative power at its highest. It is full of a depth of philosophy and sublime vibrations of conscience, the irresistible desire for ‘Eternal cities of Universal light’. Like the wind purifying the woods, Powell in this extraordinary book persistently writes with spiritual and mystical gusto. Powell is a very great literary genius directed towards reviving our soul state.

— Santosh Kumar

EXCERPTS FROM: 2014.

CHAPTER ONE: GA … AND KRISTIANIA, AN ETERNAL CITY OF UNIVERSAL LIGHT.

Ga felt a tear welling up in his right eye as he surveyed the ruins of the physical city below. He and ’Ifafi, his colleague, were on duty and had descended through the vortex from the Eternal city of Universal Light above the Oslo fjord to patrol and oversee the goings on below amongst those who had not ascended. It was always a bit emotional for Ga to return to Oslo – although he had learned the lesson of detachment, he still retained an empathetic affection for the naive romantic disillusionment of humanity. He thought of their fellow angelic guards from the Seventh Heaven and the Seventh Heavenly Palace (Adiel, Heikhali, Afafiel, Tutrbebial, Pahadiel, Agkagdiel, Lifton, Mufliel, Gehirael, Shalhevita, Hukiel, Amilfaton, Asamkis, Halelviel, Ashkanizhael, Atrugiel, Egion, Gedudiel, Aviel, Gehorey, Geroskesufael, Iboriel, Lehavah, Pasisiel, Sarafsion, and Zeburial), who also were stationed at the portals to the various eternal cities of Universal light above Terra. He had chosen Scandinavia and Europe as his preferred centres of assignment for this tour of duty – one of the most honourable appointments since the apocalyptic Intervention had taken place just a short time before. His memories of his life on Terra previous to his ascension were fully intact … and he also remembered clearly his incarnations prior to the last one. Walking through the broken streets of his old neighbourhood, Frogner, he and ’Ifafi found their way to his old apartment – not far from the city-side edge of the fjord. Despite the darkness and the desolation, the memories of watching from above: the fireballs hurtling across the skies for days on end, the constant tremors of the continental firmament and the futile screaming and panic of the residents, Ga truly desired to re-visit his abode from the past quarter century. He was glad that ’Ifafi had come along, as ’Ifafi shared his love and support freely … but never interfered with others’ private thoughts. They rarely spoke in the new Merkabah-tongue (the newly reconstituted intergalactic language of angels), but used their perfected telepathic communicative abilities to always be in “the know”. Ga was in search of déjà vu moments – mementos of experience that held significance in the incarnated soul’s process of development. These moments of remembrance were imprinted into the soon to be incarnated soul to remind the being that he or she is on the correct path … they were triggers and messages of support and acknowledgement from the various parts of one’s soul, parts taken along to Terra and parts left behind in the Interlife. The light beaming from Ga’s third eye quickly led him to the box he was hoping to still find in the cellar of the abandoned building, now consumed by darkness and stillness.

Ga opened the box and reached inside, retrieving a binder containing old documents. He opened the binder and felt the familiar energy of a speech he had held some twenty Terra years before regarding the then opening spiritual vortexes. The speech had been held in Oslo for a small group of fellow Lightworkers. Had they only known then that their channelled information and preparatory work was so important … and that the 144,000 had, in part due to their and other Lightworkers’ work and dedication, multiplied many fold – enabling many, many more to ascend. Ga scanned the pages of the old speech with his right palm, taking in the written information telepathically:

“Now I will talk a little about vortexes and the work I and others are doing in Oslo, in preparation for full activation of the Oslo vortex. I will begin by reading part of a channelling session on vortexes from an entity identified as Lanthrox, and channelled by an entity named ‘Cecil’ ”… The speech explained that vortexes are actually ever-spiralling energy streams made up of light patterns in the form of geometric symbols, which define creation (the Universal Language of Light). After a rather lengthy discourse on the history, nature and function of these vortexes, the document concluded with an explanation of the ninety-nine global vortexes of the Golden Cities (Eternal cities of Universal Light), including ‘Kristiania’ (“Vibrations of Conscience”) – the Eternal City of Universal Light over Oslo, and information regarding the spiritual work of a group of Lightworkers who had been meeting on the outskirts of Oslo 1-2 times a week to cooperate on various projects directed at preparing for full activation of the Oslo-area vortex, and educating those ready to hear about the Earth’s movement into higher dimensions of consciousness. The activities of this group of Lightworkers included: meditation and prayer for guidance and healing, exploratory astral projection into the Oslo vortex, active work with Ascended Masters and angels on personal emotional and spiritual challenges, exhibitions of channelled art and poetry, channelling and distribution of symbols from the Universal Language of Light, angelic channelling by way of talking in tongues, the purifying of energy in Oslo-area churches in preparation for the increased influx of Christos energy and consciousness, and much talking with everyday people about the new state of things in God’s universes, and especially regarding the Earth’s challenges and destiny, as incarnates move forward into the higher dimensions. And finally, the entity then known as ‘Mikael’ urged the audience to join other dedicated Lightworkers who were working to clean out the many vortexes and tunnels across the globe, so that the Christos energy could flow freely … adding: ‘the more Lightworkers who work on this important activity, the faster both personal and Earth spiritual transformation will happen.’

“Adonai …” thought Ga – loudly enough for ’Ifafi to pick up telepathically. ’Ifafi smiled broadly, and returned to his meditation, thus allowing Ga to continue with his spiritual archaeological digging about. Ga breathed deeply and calmly as he “re-read” the contents of several personal correspondences and journal entries:

“Dear Mikael,
I hope that you are well. I would like to remind you that each person is born with one main Force of Nature, and that your dominant/main Force of Nature is Ogun. The qualities of Ogun are:

Force (an unfinished lesson for you)
Pure Justice
Initiative (unfinished lesson)
Pioneering
Truth (unfinished lesson)
Loyalty
Technology

The symbol of Ogun is the sword, and Ogun is (like Ganesh) also the Lord of Obstacles … using his sword to cut away everything that stands in the way of your spiritual progress, and opening the doors to creativity.

The other Force of Nature that you have to work with is Obatala, whose qualities include:

Righteousness
Wisdom (unfinished)
Caretaker of Creation
Ethics
Morals (unfinished)
Humility
Cool (unfinished)
Calm (unfinished)
Purity of Intention (unfinished)
Objective
Clarity of Thought
Purity
Consciousness
Rational Thought
Head
Reality
Light

Forces of Nature are like people sometimes. To work with them requires a very special kind of respect, understanding, and consciousness. Be willing to listen, and to see.

Bless you and good honouring.
Tanakai”

In another channelling Mikael had received the following message:
“There is a close connection through several lives, and you have worked with the energy of angelic consciousness in the Interlife, and actively in your dream consciousness. Consciousness is largely concerned with information, awakening and love. Mikael, you are now taking the final steps towards your completion/value/assignment, and this has been a long and strong experience for you, but one that has been necessary in order to prepare you for the important assignment you have taken upon yourself. The Way is the Goal, but when you stand at the finish line there is a special reward and sense of satisfaction for the soul.”

Ga felt the ‘Mikael’ energy within himself, reminding him of his spiritual journey over several lifetimes. Leafing through an old journal, he found loosened pages in an envelope tucked away in between the pages. There were certain themes regarding lessons to be learned that appeared and re-appeared with regularity, and Ga recognised them immediately: ‘learn to accept others’ thoughts, words, behaviour and expectations as their own, and not necessarily something for me to own or personalise. This regards others’ energies as well: do not take their energies or challenges on as my own. Learn detachment: recognise more quickly the value of each experience, and then let go, and move forward. Failure to do so creates unrealistic expectations of things that are not to be … and makes for getting stuck in situations that impede flow and creativity. I need to accept constant flow and still be complete unto myself in all situations. In this way I can be complete with all entities in Oneness.’ And further: ‘learn to love yourself, and to rely on and trust others and to accept their love. At the same time, continue to help others to find their inner strength and to learn to love themselves. You have volunteered and chosen for yourself difficult tasks in this lifetime because of your strength of Will and Courage, and your love for mankind.’

Ga released a sigh as he momentarily relived his previous struggles to boost his personal spiritual awareness, and the many challenges that had come even after writing these journals entries from 1996. The years of tumult, starting with 2004, increased steadily in intensity until the final five years before the Divine Intervention at the end of 2012. He laughed quietly to himself as he remembered how most on Terra had both overestimated and underestimated the importance of the 9/11 terror attacks. They were tragedies with significance, but the primary importance was truly their function as a major pre-warning before the acceleration towards the apocalypse, which was set in motion just a short time afterwards. They represented an opportunity to wake up and understand the many ways we were consciously (and unconsciously) creating the reality of the Armageddon myths … and were a déjà vu trigger that was almost totally unrecognised as such until several years later. Ga closed the box, arose and abruptly shot a glance and telepathic message in ’Ifafi’s direction: “Let’s go. I am done here.”

CHAPTER THREE, PART THREE: THE DECLARATION, AND A THREAT FROM THE EMPIRE OF ORION.

Ga and ’Ifafi were sleeping soundly – ensconced in each others’ arms and wings – when Ga suddenly opened his eyes, pushed ’Ifafi aside and groaned: “Good morning, my love … get up! We have some research to do.”

“Quei!” (What!), replied ’Ifafi in the new Merkabah dialect, still groggy and rubbing his eyes while scratching an itch under his left wing.

“We (or at least I) need to find out more about the entities and races involved in this intergalactic process – especially the Empire of Orion. We need to be prepared for whatever can happen,” said Ga.

“Relax, my love. Que sera, sera. Det vet du. We cannot do anything to change fate,” replied ’Ifafi, trying to pull Ga back onto his wings.

“Fate!??”, replied Ga, resisting physically. “What are you talking about? This is not a question of fate, but a question of Divine Will, which we are all responsible for – individually and collectively. Let us use our free will to the greatest potential and benefit!”

“D’accord, mon copain,” said ’Ifafi. “I agree, but how about just another hour in bed – together? There is always so much work. Don’t you ever relax and just enjoy the moment, and that which you have attained and achieved? Come, I have something to tell you … and show you …”

“Arrêt ! Je t’aime, mais … concæ måinet queist penwve!”

“Okay, but you do understand that my insistence is actually your own doing?!! If you were not so impudent, beautiful, insistent and sexy, then …”

“Don’t even go there,” said Ga, planting a wet kiss on the broad and fleshy lips of ’Ifafi … and then promptly licking his ear lobes and neck.

“And now it must be I that tell you the same: ‘Don’t even go there! You know that that technique is much more effective to win me over to go to bed with you than to get me to leave being in bed with you!”

Ga began tickling ’Ifafi under his armpits – the most ticklish place for ’Ifafi (and most angels), except for possibly between the third and fourth toes.

“Ha ha … stop! I give up! I will get up. Ha ha … hee hee hee. Nå skal du få igjen, du!” squealed ’Ifafi as he began to tickle Ga.

“Truce!” screamed Ga, laughing out-of-control, and then suddenly gazing deep into ’Ifafi’s soul through the portals of his beautiful eyes. “I love you … je t’aime … jeg elsker deg … tes qofta, tes qofta, ’Ifafi.”

’Ifafi stroked Ga’s hair and gently planted a kiss on his lips, while saying: “Mon coeur, je t’aime aussi. Just tell me what you want … I would march to the ends of the Universes for you …”

Ga then replied (with a slight smile): “Good … then you will certainly have no problem engaging in a little analysis of the situation at hand. We could even make a game of it if you like, perhaps something similar to the old Terra games that were played until recently: like ‘Monopoly’, or ‘Risk’ or an old-fashioned space-age videogame …”

’Ifafi interrupted: “yeah, or perhaps ‘Old Maid’ or strip poker!??”

“Nå må du gi deg, kjære!”, said Ga, then repeating: “Give it up, babe! I do not negotiate love. And who are you insinuating is to be stuck with the ‘Old Maid’ anyway … according to my calculations, your age is approximately …”

“Hey, chill out babe. Bring out the game board … or your computer. Give me a double espresso and a birdseed sweet bun, and I am yours – however and for whatever cause … (of course, within reason … heh heh)”

Ga immediately arose and called food services to make an order for a light breakfast, and then he quickly began getting dressed, modestly turning his back to ’Ifafi.

“Ahhhh …”, said ’Ifafi. “Thank you! Your very best asset in full view!”

Ga freaked out for a moment, wondering what he had set into motion, but then ’Ifafi added: “I just love those wings of yours … especially when in full erection.”

Ga just smiled and wiggled his wings, prompting ’Ifafi to say – in jest: “You wish, my love!”

And Ga replied: “No my dear … YOU wish. But there will be time for that later. Here – take a look at what the computer has to say about the different races involved in this situation …”

’Ifafi began to read aloud from the screen:

‘The Empire of Orion consists of entities who adhere to the Light and the Darkness, and whose centres of power were originally based at two competing star systems. After many wars with the Intergalactic Confederation over hundreds of thousands of Terra years, the Orions were essentially beaten back into a position where their aggressiveness had been contained to their own galaxy – giving relative peace to their neighbouring galaxies, but not necessarily to their colony: Zeta Reticuli. They had, however, achieved a long-lasting peace agreement with both Vega and other neighbours. Basically, the Empire of Orion was at the same level of spiritual and racial transformation as the inhabitants of Terra – slowly moving into the fourth and fifth dimensions.

“‘The hold of the Empire of Orion over Zeta Reticuli can be compared in many ways to the histories of many empires and former colonies on Terra. The topic of self-governance or official autonomy has always been a sore one … ’ ”

’Ifafi then commented: “Ga, my love. It looks as though there may be trouble … especially when the decision to invite Zeta Reticuli into the Confederation is announced – that is, if it goes through.”

Ga shook his head in affirmation, saying: “Yes, exactly. And there is no reason to think that the proposal will not eventually go through the General Assembly. I am quite certain that it will receive the full approval of the Security Council. Vega and Sirius could try to stalemate a quick decision, mostly because of Vega’s trade agreements with Orion … and Sirius’ current strong anti-war stance – but, from what I hear, a proclamation inviting Zeta Reticuli into the Confederation is essentially a ‘done deal’. And both Vega and Sirius will be ‘won over’ if Kartion’s suggestion to offer the Empire of Orion membership as well is approved.

They continued to read countless internal documents and studies of various civilisations that could play a major role in the conflict, including: Alpha Centauri, Lyra, Vega, Zeta Reticuli, Sirius, the Pleiades, Arcturus etc.

After hours of reading and discussion, ’Ifafi concluded: “The challenges and the possible attainments are clear. The real test for the Confederation is not a question of military might – our combined forces are much stronger than those of the Empire of Orion – but rather a test of whether (or not) the Confederation can handle an eventual military provocation and confrontation to the best for the combined and interconnected universes … and without falling back to the behavioural patterns seen on Terra, Orion, Zeta Reticuli and other planets and stars still evolving from a Third Density reality.”

“Exactement,” replied Ga. “THAT is the challenge we really face … it is all connected – the evolution of the members of the Intergalactic Confederation, and that of the Empire of Orion, Zeta Reticuli and Terra. Another confrontation of the ‘illusion’ of separation theory.”

There was a great silence after that last comment by Ga – not between the two of them, for they were in unison in their thoughts, but still in reflection and reminiscence. Finally, ’Ifafi said solemnly: “Yeah, it is the same thing we are trying to recover from here on Terra. Greed and separation – it is all about power and materialism. And as the spiral gains more and more momentum, the more egotism there is. Those in charge of the commercial and bureaucratic systems do everything possible to pass on their burdens to those of low stature and limited means, and those who make their living as menial workers in the systems no longer dare to stand out against them and became an even larger part of the problem. This development had been in development for many centuries on Terra before it finally exploded and the Intervention became a reality. It is the same for the Empire of Orion, Zeta Reticuli and many other planets and stars. Terran humanoids made life on Terra a living Hell – totally self-created, and reinforced by the new god that they created: the god called ‘power and money’. Let us pray for the Empire of Orion, Zeta Reticuli and the many others who are in the midst of this difficult transition.”

And so they sat in quiet meditation for half an hour before both opened their eyes and Ga muttered: “Adonai. There is no god but God. May we all praise and respect the true godliness in us all, and which rings out throughout our surroundings. But let us remember that within the source of the problem lies also the possibility of an answer. Just think how the restructuring of the entire money and power system on Terra since the Intervention has contributed to the consciousness shift that is now underway.”

“Adonai,” repeated ’Ifafi, revealing a solitary teardrop quickly streaming downward from his right eye – but which did not cool his burning cheeks as intended. The emotion that he felt at that moment was undeniable and could only be soothed once acknowledged.

After some days, the predictions of ’Ifafi and Ga were confirmed. Not only had the proposal passed through the Intergalactic Confederation’s Security Council (with minor objections from Sirius, and an ‘abstention vote’ from Vega), but it also passed in the General Assembly – thus resulting in the following proclamation:

‘We, the Intergalactic Confederation, hereby proclaim that we support the positive consideration of eventual applications for membership both from Zeta Reticuli (one and two), and the Empire of Orion, and that we consider the demand of the populace of Zeta Reticuli to be in compliance with the constitution of the Intergalactic Confederation. It is our sincere hope that the Empire of Orion will see and affirm the wisdom of our proclamation, and recognise the independence of Zeta Reticuli as a sovereign planet and state.’

The reactions from the Confederation member states and from Zeta Reticuli were quite positive, but there was (at first) merely silence and a cold front as the only reaction from the Empire of Orion. But that silence soon gave way to an exchange of bickering and threats, between the leadership on Orion and the Intergalactic Confederation Command. This was a ‘normal reaction’ that was not unexpected, however – the Empire of Orion sent a couple of spaceships armed with lasers both to the galactic borders of Zeta Reticuli One and Zeta Reticuli Two … AND attacked an Arcturian scientific spaceship outside of the galactic borders of Vega. This was, of course, a serious offence … causing disharmony and tension amongst the members of the Intergalactic Confederation. After several crisis meetings, it was decided by the Security Council that a super battalion of spaceships from Terra, Arcturus, Alpha Centauri and the Pleiades would protect Zeta Reticuli and Arcturus, and afterwards confront the Empire of Orion on its own turf. Vega, under pressure from its Confederation co-members, also eventually agreed to participate in the action after much diplomatic activity. The entire Command of Angels was put on high alert, and Ga and ’Ifafi were given the responsibility of organising the military effort under the diplomatic command executed by Kartion.

CHAPTER THREE, PART FOUR: CONFRONTATION.

All eternal cities of Light on Terra were buzzing with activity. The entire Intergalactic Confederation was on high alert. Ga and ’Ifafi had their hands full, cooperating with military and security command managers on Arcturus, Alpha Centauri, the Pleiades, Sirius, Zeta Reticuli and Vega – regarding the organisation of a number of spaceships to participate in the action. Some had the function of protecting the Arcturian scientific spacecraft which had been attacked, and escorting it back to Arcturus. Others were put in position to patrol their own planet’s galactic borders … and Sirius, Terra, the Pleiades and Vega sent vessels to warn the Orions away from the galactic borders of Zeta Reticuli One and Two. These fleets were commanded by Kartion.

The operation was well-planned. Fortunately, the Arcturian scientific exploration ship was not seriously damaged and no one suffered more than some minor bruises and concussions. The Orions did, however, manage to fire a few long-range lasers and missiles at a military installation on Zeta Reticuli Two, causing some local panic and precipitating evacuation to underground tunnels. The Intergalactic Confederation forces moved in quickly, chasing the aggressors back to the Empire of Orion while sending clear messages to the Empire’s political and military leadership that Zeta Reticuli is now considered to have been liberated from Empire rule, and that the Empire can shortly expect a diplomatic visit from the Confederation. The response from Kwiføw, chief military commander of the Imperial Orion Forces, was far from diplomatic: “A diplomatic visit, say you?!! You can go fuck yourselves. Bring it on, Confederates – we have fought you many times before … even on our home turf. Save your diplomacy for when you are screaming ‘uncle’, as they say on Terra.”

’Ifafi was surprised at the crudeness of the response from Kwiføw, but Kartion and Ga seemed to be rather relaxed about the threats. It was agreed that Ga and ’Ifafi would lead the first incursion upon the Empire of Orion, a large battalion of higher-level angels surrounding the main cities and military installations – taking them by surprise, simply by utilising their abilities to shift density. Ga had already called upon and organised his fellow angelic guards from the Seventh Heaven and the Seventh Heavenly Palace: Adiel, Heikhali, Afafiel, Tutrbebial, Pahadiel, Agkagdiel, Lifton, Mufliel, Gehirael, Shalhevita, Hukiel, Amilfaton, Asamkis, Halelviel, Ashkanizhael, Atrugiel, Egion, Gedudiel, Aviel, Gehorey, Geroskesufael, Iboriel, Lehavah, Pasisiel, Sarafsion, and Zeburial, as well as his colleague on Terra: Lysiel.

“They will never know what hit them,” said Lysiel to Ga.

“We will be many, as each angelic guard will lead his own battalion consisting of many angels. In addition, Kartion will lead the battalion of Confederation spaceships surrounding Orion’s galactic borders. They will either reach a settlement with us, or they must choose to suffer the consequences.”

“It will be quite interesting to see what they choose to do,” said Lysiel. “I still do not understand why so many Third and Fourth Density entities still believe that it is essential ‘to suffer in order to learn’.”

’Ifafi commented: “It is perhaps rather a question of pride, which is both an admirable trait … and often a sign of ignorance and egotism. If anyone can convince them, it is Ga. If not, then the Confederation will demand nothing less than a full surrender – and we outnumber the Orions militarily. So, it is not a question of ‘victory or not’, but rather what kind of victory … and whether it will be a victory that even the Orions can embrace and benefit from.”

“All is in place,” announced Ga. We assemble above the capital city of Betel-Rig in two hours – cloaked invisible. I will then make a final announcement to the Emperor, telling of our arrival and imminent incursion.”

And with that the three friends quickly embraced each other, saying: “Adonai!” … and quickly ran off to assemble their units.

THIS BOOK IS CURRENTLY AVAILABLE FROM CYBERWIT AND AMAZON.COM.

Cyberwit

Amazon in USA

and can be found at the following libraries in Norway:

The National Library of Norway

Deichmanske bibliotek (Oslo public library)

 

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Another excerpt from “2014: the life and adventures of an incarnated angel”.

“Come and join us!” growled Ieøq. “We are celebrating your stupendous victory, and this fabulous incursion of wings. I don’t think we have seen so many feathers here on Orion since we attempted Vegan ostrich farming several centuries ago. Boy, was that a mess! But do not worry, we do not eat angel meat as we find it too sinewy for our rather refined tastes. Now humans – that is a delicacy … too bad so many of them are now diseased. You know, that is why we had planned to overtake their planet. To kill off the weak ones and enslave the strong ones while integrating them slowly into the Orion race. But obviously, the blasted Intergalactic Confederation – again – has other plans. Of course, you never stoop so low as to talk to us. But you do go behind our backs to the Zeta Reticulians and help them to engineer an uprising against us. Pray tell – who is holier than whom, and what ever happened to your high ideals regarding non-interference and free will? I suppose that you privately refer to the Empire of Orion and Zeta Reticuli as the ‘axis of evil’! Isn’t that in line with the type of thinking common on your beloved Terra? One day you make secret alliances and contracts with elements you consider to be subversive, and the next day you declare them to be terrorists and responsible for all evil in the universes … Would you like to see some of the contracts we have signed with leaders on Terra, which they reneged on when you and the Confederation began to intervene and interfere?” And with that, Ieøq and the others at the main table broke out into drunken laughter.

Ga interjected: “Firstly, you speak of the Old Terra – before the Armageddon, the Rapture and the Intervention. THAT Terra no longer exists, and is not bound by any previous contracts. Secondly, yes … there were many mistakes made by leaders on Terra, and the inhabitants were foolish to trust in all they were told and to deny all that did not serve their own egoistic needs. However, the Intergalactic Confederation is not calling you ‘an axis of evil’, and does not necessarily see your behaviour or soul entity development as being any different or worse than those of humanoids on Terra. There is no judgment, but the time has come … to set a new, more positive course for all. This is the ‘Word’ from the ‘Highest One.’ And thirdly, yes: the decision to help the Zeta Reticulians was a difficult and strategic decision – both for the survival of Terra, of Zeta Reticuli … and ultimately for the survival of the Empire of Orion. The decision was not ours alone. The order was handed down from the Administrative and Soul Security divisions in the Interlife, under which all creation is ultimately responsible. Even Orions … and Zeta Reticulians. But you are quite correct in your inference that the Empire of Orion has not been properly and formally invited to join the Intergalactic Confederation. You have always been permitted to apply for membership, but as you know the “Entity Rights” clause in our constitution does not allow for enslavement or denial of life-promoting and life-preserving scientific advancement of member stars’ citizens or colonies. And besides, your “chip on the shoulder” military stance has created mistrust amongst those Confederation members closest to your galaxy. But I can assure you that the Confederation is open to finding a real solution to this dilemma. Enjoy your festivities and sleep off your liquor and your whores, and you, I, your cabinet and the angelic guards will convene in your Great Hall tomorrow morning – at approximately 0900 hours Orion time.”

Ieøq then asked in a booming voice and sarcastic tone: “Tell us, Ga of the Seventh Heaven. Just who is this ‘Highest One’ of which you speak so reverently? And why should we surrender to His Will?”

All were quiet as Ga slowly advanced towards Ieøq and stood face to face with him … just two feet away. Ga began to tremble – not in fear, but in reverence – as he began to channel. His wings and the wings of each of the other twenty-eight angelic guards of the Seventh Heaven rose to full erection as he spoke.

“The ‘Highest One’ is that which is essentially unnamed. The ‘Highest One’ just is – representing soul consciousness in relentless and eternal transformation. The ‘Highest One’ is Creativity, Birth, Light, Beauty, Love as well as Disarray and Destruction, Mortal Death, Darkness, Ugliness, Fear … nothing exists without the grace of the ‘Highest One’. The ‘Highest One’ is the everlasting craving for oneness – entailing development, recycling and rejuvenation, always aspiring to more deeply realise the Oneness and to more frequently remember who one actually is. For we are expressions of the ‘Highest One’ – each and every one of us, here and in every physical and non-physical place in the Seven Universes and those yet to be created. The ‘Highest One’ is the very breath that we are born with, that which keeps us alive and that we give from us when we expire mortally … and which we carry with us in soul energy back to the Interlife, and return with upon reincarnation … until we no longer need to reincarnate. That ‘breath’ is the power of creation itself: the light and sound vibrations of the ‘Highest One’ – parcelled out to each and every entity in existence, and even those who we in a state of illusion think we are not in existence.

“So you see my beloved children of Orion,” the voice continued – clearly touching every heart and soul in the room – tomorrow’s exercise is only a formality. Every soul has the same basic purpose and desire: to surrender to the realisation that we are already – and have always been AND will always be – an expression of Divinity; of the ‘Highest One’. Those who choose to continue to exist in illusion choose themselves to recycle into a basic soul energy form that will be healed and reformed for further self-transformation. The true kingdom is the Kingdom Within, on an eternal and constant search for balance.”

All was quiet as Ga came out of his channelling session, and the Orions – now completely sober – asked one another: “Who was that speaking?”

Ga replied softly and with utmost respect: “That, my beloved comrades, was Archangel Michael.” And with that the angelic guards left the Orion celebration and returned to the tens of thousands of intergalactic spaceships that were positioned just outside of the atmosphere of the Empire of Orion, where they would rest before the terms of surrender were established the next morning.

Excerpt from “The tunnel at the end of time”.

ACT 10: “Angels and Ministers of Grace Defend Us!” Hamlet Act I sc. 4

“Lugh, work your way towards me, this one seems to be following me, and has at least one guard with him.”

“On my way, ‘Ifafi. Same here. I think we need to be in as open a space as possible – towards the center of the dome.”

“Agreed. On my way.”

As the pair converged towards the center of the dome, ‘Ifafi grasped the handle of Ga’s sword which was still sheathed, and loosened the tie of his cloak. As soon as they were within eye contact of each other, both ‘Ifafi and Lugh turned towards their adversaries which were advancing a few yards behind them.

Addressing them with all the authority of his angelic presence, ‘Ifafi stated “I don’t know who you really are, or what this little masquerade game is all about, but it will soon be over. We will find the real Niall and this charade will end.”

“No, it is over for you.” The Ekbar double closest to ‘Ifafi responded as he pulled out a gun.

‘Ifafi shucked his cloak and drew Ga’s sword simultaneously. A shot rang out, but was deflected by a lightening fast swing of the sword, as ‘Ifafi took wing towards his adversary faster than Lugh had ever seen any angel move, and with another fierce swing of the sword, the head of the fake Ekbar/Niall was rolling on the floor. The other Ekbar and his companion began to flee, as had anyone else within view. Lugh took flight giving chase, but the elusive doppelganger apparently also had an escape route planned as he disappeared into a hidden panel behind an information kiosk.

“I’ve lost him, damn it.” Lugh transmitted to ‘Ifafi.

“Let him go, I just got a mental image from Ga, we are needed below. Meet me back here. This poor bastard was just wearing a mask.”

By the time Lugh got back to ‘Ifafi, a small crowd of bold, but curious onlookers were beginning to advance as were a number of security force members. “We have to leave, now.” Ifafi said to Lugh who was looking at the unmasked dismembered head lying in a pool of blood on the floor.

“’Ifafi, remind me not to piss you off.”

“Yeah, that was a bit messy wasn’t it.” ‘Ifafi half-chuckled as the pair quickly made their way to their well-planned exit.

Back on Alpha Level, upon realizing the enormity of the conspiracy upon seeing the body of the Prefect laying before him, Ga had paused to send the image to ‘Ifafi.

Turning back to the Sergeant, Ga stated “I must return to our headquarters. Join your men. If you can apprehend one of these fake Ekbars, then do so, I have many questions. If you must wound one to do it, so be it. There has been enough killing here today, but the one we seek is not here. This has been a distraction, a ploy. I will not take a life without reason. Beware, they will have many allies and accomplices, even among the security forces. It is likely they will attempt to lead you into a trap. Keep them out in the open if possible, but they seek me, and my team. I will not be made the fool.”

“Yes sir.” replied the Sergeant.

Grasping the dagger from the body of the Prefect, Ga wiped the blade on the tunic of the body, and returned the weapon to his belt. He then grasped the small device Ulrich had given him as he turned to return to the security offices. “Ulrich, it is more critical than ever that you get to Epsilon Level and make your preparations. We need to immediately shut down all outside access to the facility. No one must leave, and no one must enter. He is still here, and I must make sure he stays here.”

“You’re correct that he is here, Ga, I picked up a faint signal from the NSA chip just a second ago. It appeared to be inside the tunnels, but it was too weak and to brief to get an accurate fix. I have picked up no less than twenty of these fakes though, all throughout the facility. Who the hell are they?”

“They are part of a deception, but also an elaborate plan to distract and ensnare us. One of them was no less than the Prefect himself. His body lies in the main corridor of Alpha level, near the entrance. They are wearing masks.”

“Holy shit! If the Prefect is involved, anyone can be suspect.”

“Exactly. Now you see why your mission is so critical. Do not fail me, Ulrich. All rides on your success now.”

“I shall make all possible haste, Ga. I will not fail.”

“Thank you, Ulrich. Keep me posted.”

Within minutes, ‘Ifafi and Lugh had returned to Alpha Level, and rejoined Ga at their makeshift headquarters in the security offices.

‘Ifafi looked around and asked, “Where’s Ulrich?”

“He’s on his way with the Lieutenant and two other trusted officers to Epsilon Level to hopefully set both our trap and our failsafe.”

“Good. What the hell are all these Niall/Ekbar look-alikes all about?”

“Obviously, it was Niall’s plan to distract and ensnare us down here, but there must be some other motive to it as well that I haven’t quite figured out yet. It is way too elaborate to be just a hoax, and way too transparent to be just a trap for us. Right now, I am assuming that is also a way to mask his own escape from this facility. He wants us to be chasing ghosts, so to speak, while he carries out whatever plans he has. I refuse to play his game.” Ga replied as sternly and angrily as ‘Ifafi had ever seen him.

“So what exactly is your plan?” Lugh asked.

“Ulrich discovered that the original plans for this facility, before the intervention changed everything, was to have the central operations center housed in a rather secure area on Epsilon Level. After the intervention, the newer facilities where our quarters were, were constructed. However, they left the original ops center abandoned, but still fully functional – as some sort of back-up, apparently. Ulrich believes he can bypass both the new ops center on level II and take control of all the environmental systems and other systems housed down on Zeta level as well. That is if Niall has been careless enough to overlook the old ops center and hasn’t done any major redesigns of the old systems that were down there. At the very least, we should be able to seal off the entire facility so that no one can enter or leave.”

“Ah, so whatever he has planned, you intend to trap him here with us.” ‘Ifafi replied.

“Exactly. He will have to come to us.”

There are only three of us. Ulrich will be totally absorbed in his duties.” Lugh interjected.

“I am aware that we are spreading ourselves thin. We have a few members of the security forces. You haven’t met my new friend, the Sergeant. I believe he knows this place as well as anyone, and was loyal in my brief battle with the Prefect. I believe I have a way to tilt the odds a bit more in our favor as well. We will address that shortly, and I shall need your help. Which brings me to your escapade in the dome, ‘Ifafi.”

‘Ifafi seemed to almost blush. Lugh had never seen quite that reaction in an Angel. “Ga, if it’s about your sword, it wasn’t damaged. I just reacted. It was all I had.”

“It’s not about the sword, I’m glad it defended you well. However, we must give you both a few lessons in subtlety. Flying around the central dome in full few of literally thousands of humans and aliens is not exactly keeping a low profile.”

At just that moment, the device in Ga’s ear buzzed again lightly. “Yes, Ulrich. Speak.”

“I’m on Epsilon Level, but it wasn’t without incident. We were attacked by one of the Ekbar clones or whatever you want to call them and his entourage. The Lieutenant is dead. I was grazed by a stray shot. The other two security guards with me managed to kill the two guards with him, and wound the fake Ekbar, but he escaped.”

“Are you certain it was one of the fakes?” Ga asked.

“Yes, at that distance, and with whatever he is using to cloak the signal, I would have been able to pick up at least some trace of the NSA chip.”

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, just a slight flesh wound. Looks far worse than it really is.”

“Very well. We shall join you as soon as we can. Start your operation as quickly as you are able.”

“We must hurry now. Ulrich may have been detected and I don’t want to give Niall a chance to figure out what we are up to. I just wish I knew what his scheme is.” Ga stated flatly to ‘Ifafi and Lugh.

Deep below, now on Zeta Level, the real Ekbar/Niall was moving forward with his plan. He had managed to have constructed, under the prefect’s forged authority, a rather elaborate bunker, apartment, and suite of offices. He summoned his closest accomplice, a young human, who had been the Prefect’s Aide de Camp, Arthur Kent. Arthur, only twenty-three years of age, was descended from old British royal bloodlines and very much acted the part – always very formal, and his education and training very evident.

“Yes sir, you called?” the young man responded as he opened the door to Niall’s private office.

“Yes, how is our plan proceeding?”

“I’m sorry to report, sir, that the Prefect is dead. He was killed on Alpha level by Ga. ‘Ifafi and Lugh managed to escape the dome after killing an operative there. Ulrich was spotted in the tunnels somewhere near the entrance to Delta Level, but managed to elude our operative there, but was apparently wounded in the battle. We presume that ‘Ifafi and Lugh have re-joined Ga by now, but we still have not figured out how they are moving so quickly and freely, or why Ulrich had gone deeper into the facility alone, save for his security escort.”

“Bloody incompetents, all of them, especially our esteemed Prefect. I should have killed that bastard myself and Ga would have been dead by now. All of this masquerade business seemed ridiculously complex anyway, but it may yet serve its purpose. Well, it is of no matter, Ga and his team will die if I have to kill everyone on Alpha and Beta levels to do it, which is precisely our next move. Have Wilhelm prepare to flood both levels with the nerve gas agent.”

“Yes sir, but don’t you want to try to get at least some of our operatives out first? Also, should I send another team to search for Ulrich?”

“That would be my first choice, Arthur, but I don’t want to do anything to tip my hand to these … these … abominations. They must die. Nothing must interfere with the master plan. Ulrich is of no consequence, we shall eliminate him later. Arthur, you are too young to understand, but this has taken years to prepare. Some sacrifices are necessary. Were it not for the Divine Intervention, and the meddling of this infernal Federation, this would have all happened in 2012. People like you and I have been chosen to rule this planet. We have been given an opportunity like none other in human history. We have spent generations controlling genetics to achieve a superior race, and with our technology, the messy business of pairings and breeding is no longer even necessary. The day of the eugenics wars has arrived, and we shall be the master race – the only race. It is the next step in evolution. First however, we must eliminate … well … the undesirables. The engineered viruses stockpiled here and in sister facilities in Archangelsk and Brazil will be released on what is now left of the population of this planet, and will spread globally within seventy-two hours. The irony of the plan is that the very vaccines given to most of the population over the past generation to fight various other engineered viruses such as certain strains of influenza, and even HIV, were specifically designed to actually break down other parts of the human immune system, making it one hundred percent vulnerable to the weapon we shall release soon, while we and others like us, who truly have nothing to fear from this little bug, just sit back and watch.”

“Yes sir, I truly do understand, but there is something I have always wondered about. Won’t there be a few undesirables who may not be affected – some that for whatever reason weren’t vaccinated?”

“Probably, but they will be so few as to be insignificant, and can be easily found and eliminated in other ways This facility, and the few others like it, will finally serve its original purpose. Now, though, back to the business at hand. How long to prepare the gas for Alpha and Beta Levels?”

“At least ten to twelve hours, sir. It will have to be done manually and carefully to ensure there are no leaks down here. All the safeguards are yet to be tested.”

“Very well. Well let’s get it ready, but I’ll signal you before we begin. Make all haste.”

Back on Alpha Level, Ulrich was calling again and had instructed Ga on how to put him on the speakers at the terminal he had been using, ” I’m in, and I now have control of the computers down here. It looks like everything is just as I thought. I have also established a link to our com system back in our quarters. I have just gotten a communication from Lysiel.  It appears that the Federation agents in Buenos Aires have good news.  Chavez, the brain behind the anti-NWO militia movement in South America, has been captured.  And secondly, Ilya (Antonin and Niall’s accomplice) has just broken down in an interrogation round and he has revealed some significant information about Niall.”

“Yeah?” replied Ga eagerly.

“It would seem that Ilya was the one who hypnotized Niall years ago when his microchip was first inserted.”

“Hypnotized?” exclaimed ‘Ifafi.  “For what?!!”

“Well, apparently it was part of the indoctrination procedures back then.  But the important thing for us to know is that Ilya gave Niall a hypnotic suggestion that would help him to control his microchip detection.  The suggestion was in the form of a code word.”

“Yeah, well?  Spit it out man!” said an agitated Ga.

.
“The code word is: ‘cage’, and every time Ilya hears that word his microchip signal is disabled — essentially making him invisible.”

“Can Niall control this himself … and does he know about it?”

“Apparently, they think that the only ones that know the code word are Antonin and Ilya.  And, by the way, that was the other news: Antonin is dead — he committed suicide before he could be transported to the rehabilitation facility on Zeta Reticuli.  The threat of deportation was what got Ilya to crack under the last interrogation.  It must be quite a nasty place if these NWO guys are so afraid of it,” said Ulrich.

“No nastier than the NWO-facilities right here on Terra,” said ‘Ifafi with a smirk. “Besides, I have it on good knowledge from Lysiel that we are closing in on the ‘Big R’s’, and that they also will soon be transported to rehabilitation centers. So it will soon be a ‘status symbol’ to become rehabilitated. Personally, I feel that those ruling NWO and Illuminati family members need to be tarred, feathered and run off this planet as soon as possible … I am not even certain that rehabilitation of them is possible!” They both sniggered, and ‘Ifafi continued: “But didn’t Niall use ‘the cages have been opened’ or something like that when all this started? I’m guessing he must know and be using it. Maybe Antonin told him the code word.”

“Let us hope not, and perhaps the phrase including the code word is Antonin’s idea of a ruse. Sounds like his sick sense of humor. Well, well … this explains Niall’s disappearances on our surveillance system, and it also gives us some leverage.  We must be VERY CAREFUL not to use the word ‘cage’ around him … and also to cut him off every time we think he will use the word himself,” said Ga thoughtfully.

“Cut him off?” asked Ulrich.

“Yeah,” replied Ga.  “ ‘Ifafi and I must try to read his consciousness and thought patterns in detail every time we are in communication with him in order to anticipate what he might say.  It is a good thing that Antonin is gone and that Ilya is under control… But this is very good news, that Chavez has been finally caught.  The Federation is fighting against both the NWO and the anti-NWO militia groups, and Chavez’ groups were really starting to be a huge problem for us. I also must assume that Ilya, and Antonin are vital components of whatever the master plan is, and that Niall doesn’t know they are out of the picture. Alright then Ulrich, we will be joining you in a couple of hours or so down there. So finish your preparations quickly. Good work!”

“Will do, Thank you, sir.”

About that time, the Sergeant came in with a shackled and bloody unmasked Niall’s double in tow.

“Sergeant, you managed to catch one.” Ga stated with a smile.

“It wasn’t easy, sir, as soon as we picked him up, a mob started to attack us, until I grabbed his face and peeled the mask off and laid down some crowd dispersal gas canisters. I guess they figured a fake wasn’t worth the effort.”

“Very good Sergeant, what happened to the other one?”

“Dunno. He just vanished. Obviously there was some planned panic escape. I’ve been here since the place was first opened to non-CIA personnel in 2009, and I thought I knew every escape hole there was, but that guy simply vanished.”

“Do you know this one we caught?”

“Yes, sir. His name is Smythe. He was the head of the communications section last I knew. He was in charge of all the telecommunications functions of the entire facility.”

“Thank you, Sergeant McConnell. Meet the rest of my team, this is my partner, ‘Ifafi, and our dear friend, Lugh.”

“Very pleased indeed.” The Sergeant stated, shaking both their hands.

“Sergeant, Please cuff our friend here to that chair, hands behind him, and please excuse us. We don’t have time for the usual interviews and shall have to use some unorthodox interrogation methods that you probably don’t need to see.”

The sergeant grinned broadly and quickly complied with the request and exited the room.

“What are you going to do to me?” the prisoner asked.

“We are only going to find out what you know.” Ga stated flatly.

“I am former MI-6. I will tell you NOTHING.”

“Oh, I suspected as much. You don’t have to, but I hope there won’t be any permanent brain damage.”

“Brain damage?” the man’s eyes widened as the three angels approached him, shedding their cloaks with their wings beginning to stretch.

“Ifafi, Lugh, join me if you will.”

Ga placed his left hand on the man’s head. ‘Ifafi placed his right hand on Ga’s shoulder. Lugh placed his left hand on Ga’s opposite shoulder. The man began to tremble noticeably as his eyes rolled back in his head. Soon, the man began to scream.

After the Sergeant dragged the unconscious prisoner from the room. Ga turned to his companions. “If what this man knew is even close to accurate, it is time to summon some help immediately. Then we shall join Ulrich on Epsilon Level.

Conjuration of the sword.

‘Ifafi, Lugh,. I need your assistance here in an angelic ritual. Lock the door.”

Lugh locked the door, and they were directed to assume their places in the Great Triangle of Angelic Strength, which had been marked onto the floor with chalk. ‘Ifafi was on the left hand side of the triangle, Lugh was on the right hand side and Ga faced them at the apex of the triangle. Inside the triangle was a plinth supporting a large purple candle, which had been inscribed with various symbols from the Universal Language of Light and Latin words. The candle had been annointed with eucalyptus oil, and it burned a strong and steady flame.

Ga raised his sword above the flame from the purple candle in the center of the angelic triangle and began to recite in Latin the “Conjuration of the Sword” from the Grimorium Verum:

“Te Gladi, Vos Gladias, trea Nomine Sancto, Albrot, Abracadabra, Jehova elico. Estote meum castellumque praesidium contra omnium hostes, conspicuusque nonconspicuus, in quisque magiceum opum. Nomeno Sancto Saday, qui est in imperium magnum, et his alio nomine: Cados, Cados, Cados, Adonai, Elohi, Zena, Oth, Ochimanuel, primoque ultimo, Sapientia, Via, Vita, Virto, Principio, Oso, Otatie, Splendoro, Luce, Sol, Fono, Gloria, Mono, Porta, Vite, Lape, Scipio, Sacredo, Pravo, Messiah, Gladi in omnium meum negotia regnas et in illos res quem me resistunt, vincite. Amen.”

He then looked at ‘Ifafi and Lugh and asked them to chant the invocation together with him … in all thirty-three times. Lugh thought he would pass out by the time they reached the 29th invocation but a stern look from ‘Ifafi prompted him to snap out of his drowsiness. As they completed the thirty-third incantation Ga proceeded to consecrate his sword with the Power of Archangel Michael:

“Oh Holy One – Angelic Warrior of Warriors. I beseech Thee to lend me the power of Thy Holy Sword and the sharpness of Thy Mind in my battle with the Antikristus … herewith known as Niall. May the force of Holy Strength and the Light of Angelic Conviction be forged from Thy Sword unto mine. In the Name of the Almighty — the Name only recognizable in the scream of the infant at the moment of birth and the final gasp of the dying mortal at life’s transition – I stand before you O Archangel Michael and ask you to embody my consciousness, my Spirit, my Mind, my Body and my Sword for the next twenty-four hours. I am at your service O Lord. In the Name of the Almighty, and in the presence of my two angelic witnesses in this sacred Triangle, I tell you verily that: I AM MICHAEL … I AM … THE SWORD!”

And with that the flame in the purple candle was suddenly snuffed out but the room was all but consumed by Darkness. Ga had taken on the spiritual energy and visage of Archangel Michael and had begun to glow and vibrate with an amazing intensity, never before experienced by the angels conducting the ritual. Ga appeared to have grown to over two meters high in stature and his sword was ablaze with the power of Divine Light. Lugh’s mouth was hanging open in amazement, and ‘Ifafi just grinned from ear to ear while mumbling: “Now THAT’S what I’m talking about!”

The sword was so powerful that Ga could barely hold it steady at first. It seemed to weigh 20 times what it normally did, and the slightest movement had enormous swing to it. They broke the triangle and ‘Ifafi and Lugh were sent to retrieve their own swords. When they returned minutes later they were challenged by Ga to a two-on-one practice duel. They were without a chance or a prayer … Ga’s new-found agility, strength and directness of mind could not be matched even by two against one.

“I think I am getting the hang of this now,” grinned Ga.

“Kewl!” exclaimed Lugh. “Could I try it?”

“Sure,” said Ga while winking at ‘Ifafi. They both knew that the only one that could manage the sword was Ga, as it was Ga that had conjured the force of the Sword of Michael into his sword and Ga that also had received the transference of Michael’s angelic warrior consciousness. Lugh could barely lift the sword above his head, and could not master the seemingly erratic energy of the sword at all. The sword actually threw him about from left to right until it finally literally flew out of Lugh’s hand and returned to the firm grasp of Ga, where it belonged for the next twenty-four hours.

Both ‘Ifafi and Ga had a good laugh, and Lugh looked sheepish and embarrassed at first but soon joined in on the laughter. And then while Ga went off to meditate, ‘Ifafi and Lugh practiced their fencing skills – each determined to show off his own sword mastery.

Ga returned shortly, refreshed, and summoned the Sergeant. “Sergeant, you will remain here, have your hazmat suits on if you or your men venture out into the main corridors, and have your breathing apparatus at the ready. This man we seek is capable of anything. I need three of your best men and best shots fully equipped to accompany us to Epsilon Level in ten minutes.

Extreme poetry: “All is going to Hell — After the Rapture”.

(PAINTING AND PHOTOGRAPHY BY ADAM DONALDSON POWELL)

AFTER THE RAPTURE.

Ascension, oil on canvas, 30 x 30 cm.

Ascension, oil on canvas, 30 x 30 cm.

ASCENSION.

In an instant,

the orgasmic tingling

of the Great Compassion

transmutes physicality

into crystalline Light,

thus releasing the

new-found frequency

to find completion in

the vortex of

universal vibration.

And meanwhile,

a gentle rain

falls upon the Earth;

cultivating awe and

aspiration in those

left behind.

keys

THE FUTURE IS NOW.

Just for a moment

I surreptitiously

Slip through the

Portals of your

Watery eyes and

Catch a glimpse of

The celestial encoding

Of the Matrix.

I wander

Into the light of

Eternal memory

Reverberating

The sacred mantra

Deafening my disillusionment

With the illusion of the

Labyrinth’s dead ends

And in my stupor I

Recall the last words

Of a forgotten incarnation,

Wilting as a black rose

Under a peach-coloured

Sky – cloudless and still –

A mere heartbeat

Beyond time;

Echoing its low-grade pulse

As I frantically

Run up and down the

Alleys of La Recoleta

Trying to dodge the raindrops.

And just as you speak

I find myself on my hands and

Knees facing my epitaph:

“Posterus est iam”,

And quite uncontrollably, a single

Teardrop overflows the

Pocket of my left eye as I

Recapture our own

Generic moment in

Shared space and time.

Ascension.

Ascension.

PAVANE: un poème pour la fin des temps.

There is nothing more beautiful

And yet so sorrowful as

A man’s tears over humiliation

And loss, cradled in the bosom

Of a woman.

Uncontrollable sobbing —

A torrential rainfall

Recalling a wilderness

Landscape unashamedly seeking

Refuge from gushing winds

And rapids, thunder and lightning

Against a purple, grey and orange

Sky – in betrayal of a lifetime of

Emotional constipation and

Affections of masculinity.

A once-graceful sylph –

Now stumbling and gasping

For breath – beckons and

Invites him to join her in

A clumsy pavane, until

The quintessential mother

Archetype manages to

Rock the fallen one back

From the crevice of

Momentary indiscretion

At the end of time,

And whimpers accede to

Retrieval of pride and

Passion in the guise of

Poetic procreation.

Graffiti at train station in Oslo.

Graffiti at train station in Oslo.

AFTER THE RAPTURE.

Spent, sweaty and out-of-breath

We lie back and

Light a single cigarette

To be shared in symbolic

Celebration after an intergalactic

Battle between brazen faith and

Foolish adventure.

My tattered wings clumsily

Tucked in between my back

And the thin Styrofoam mattress;

Your head buried in my chest

And your matted hair still wet from

Our midnight dip in the Styx.

Who would have guessed that

The heaven of our making

Would be like this? .. so

Characterized by the mundane,

With intermittent interruptions

Of surrealistic struggles for

Survival: win or lose .. all

Or nothing .. one day at a time.

As the moon eclipses, the last

Sight I see before I drift off

Is the withered bonsai in the

Opening of our pre-war dwelling.

A reminder of a time when

We still dared to sleep soundly;

Carefully wrapped in unencumbered

Dreams in the style of our ancestors.

foggyday

THE FOURTH HORSEMAN.

I have come to accept

the threat of the first horseman,

on his mighty white steed –

causing in me a seemingly

everlasting sense of suspicion,

caution and readiness, and

I have sadly learned to expect

the relentless ravages of

war and emotional famine

brought on by the

rider on the red horse,

and the pestilence in the

saddlebags of the black steed.

Ironically, I mostly dread

the thieving fourth horseman

who arrives each dawn

on his pale mare and

reclaims from my broken dreams

the yet unlived memories of our love.

Stop the genocide!

Stop the genocide!

THE TRIBULATION.

The globalisation of

indiscriminate violence

is multiplied to

the power of the sixes,

and the Antichrist

smiles broadly at

the cancerous spreading

of fear and perdition –

rationalized by armies of

self-proclaimed truth.

But the greatest

threat from these

soldiers of hatred

is perhaps echoed in

the pestilent apathy

which is rampant

amongst those

elements of world populace

not directly affected by

the ravages of persecution,

and whose messengers

of love and compassion

no longer dare to

speak out – for

fear of getting caught

in the crossfire.

ARMAGEDDON.

Barking dogs

have long since

gone hoarse;

the incessant

b-flat octaves

tolling from

cathedrals,

cemeteries and

city halls are the

only musical

accompaniment to

the wailing

and mutterings

of the insane and

the shell-shocked.

Black-robed and

barefoot Nazarenos

trudge aimlessly

up and down

the flooding boulevards,

streets and alleyways

in this year-long

Semana Santa;

a macabre procession

matched in passion

only by the

mega tsunamis and

super volcanic

eruptions cataclysmically

creating myriads of

Devil’s Throats

as the reddish-brown

water whirlpools

about the rubble of

once looming

skyscrapers.

Resolutely ..

I rock myself

to inner drunkenness,

quietly humming

Ravel’s Pavane pour

une Infante Défunte.

going to hell

REQUIEM.

Once fresh air is

Now pungent

With the odor of

Desiccated seashells

Picked nearly clean

By eloquent predators

And the opportunists

Who are never

Far behind them.

Perched swallows

Look on with fear

And disbelief at

Seagulls gliding, then

Careening too far

Inland, their hysterical

Laughter a parody of

A sonata appassionata

Against a now-barren

Landscape devoid of

Romanticism and

Common decency.

If one listens closely

One can hear a requiem

For a milder Age that ended

All-too-abruptly – it is

A solemn dirge describing

The endless journey of

Displaced souls desperately

Trying not to see or hear

While carefully guarding

Their most prized possession:

Hope that there is more

Meaning to be grasped

For he who holds out

Beyond the bitter end.

REDEEMING SAVIOUR.

Mesmerized by the

Anointing smile of

Christ the Redeemer

I see a muse

Slow-dancing

With an angel

To the chanting

Of a monk’s choir;

A solemn moment’s

Reprieve from a

Raging sea of cynicism.

And I cling tightly to my

Dream-state while

Tears of joy and recognition

Rock me lovingly back to

True consciousness;

Reminiscent of

Life between lives –

A moment of bliss

Recaptured.

Arbor.

Arbor.

GLORIA IN EXCÉLSIS DEO.

Gloria in excélsis Deo!

Alleluia .. Alleluia ..

Although our backs are broken,

And our wings are tattered;

Our hearts and souls

Will forever sing your praises.

There is only one God,

But the ways to You are many.

Alleluia .. Alleluia ..

Alleluia .. Alleluia ..

“AFTER THE RAPTURE” IS PART OF MY BOOK ENTITLED “RAPTURE: ENDINGS OF SPACE AND TIME”. ORDER “RAPTURE: ENDINGS OF SPACE AND TIME” AND SEVERAL OF MY OTHER BOOKS FROM CYBERWIT.NET OR AMAZON.COM

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