The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma The Abridged For Your Sanity Edition Formerly known as Slightly Demented in its draft form.

Copyright 2008 by Iyan Igma Original Copyright of these works would range between 19992001 when they were written. Abridged for Your Sanity: 1st Edition, Paperback ISBN: 1442128151 EAN13: 9781442128156 Published by Iyan Igma via CreateSpace.com in Scotts Valley, CA. This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution NoncommercialNo Derivative Works 3.0 United States License. To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/byncnd/3.0/us/ or send a letter to Creative Commons, 171 Second Street, Suite 300, San Francisco, California, 94105, USA. In a nutshell, you are allowed to make copies and distribute it long as it is not altered or done for commercial use, and as long as you give me credit. Consult the license for further details. Please Note that this is a work of fiction. Any similarities to actual events or people is coincidental, unless noted. Iyan Igma can be contacted through one of the following ways: ● http://stores.lulu.com/iyanigma ● www.iyanigma.com ● www.createspace.com

A Work of Stupidity and Senseless Nonsense Commonly Derided and Labeled Slightly Demented. Having Now Been Lost To The Author For Years, They Are As The Repressed Memor ies of Iyan Igma A gestalt work.

To Pat and Eugene Parker, good friends who preserved these memories and introduced me to Cake, one of my favourite bands, and George Harrison's Brainwashed. Jesse You left me here When I was only eleven. When you were but that age, Your father went to heaven. Six years have drearily Passed since 1994. But sometimes without you It seems like a whole lot more.

A Note From 7 Years Later When I wrote these things, it was in a dark period of my life spanning from about the end of my sixteenth to the beginning of my eighteenth years. I'd had some misfor tunate encounters with death, health, love, stress, hypocrisy, and depression. I'd read the Bible and the classics a few times by then. After overcoming this depression, I later grew disgusted with this work. My copy I burned, along with the unfinished manuscripts to nine novels of a series that I was working on, some journals, and other writings. I did not wish to remember that time of my life. Perhaps it can now be said that there can never be a Complete Works of Iyan Igma, since most of the original ones have been destroyed. It seemed as if this work was to be lost forever, as few copies were ever made. One was given to my teacher, Mrs. Buck , though I am uncertain how much of it she has, or if it still exists. Another continued with my fam ily, though it met its untimely demise when the basement flooded. The sonnets and possibly some other excerpts were given to Katrine Templeman, though their continued existence is dubious. Perhaps Chris Shaffer, Brandon Cox, and Calvin Barefoot have copies or parts of it. The copy that this was taken from was the 5 th Draft of Slightly Demented, which was given to my friends Pat and Eugene Parker. We had lost contact over the years, and this work was as lost to me as their friendship. My mother had asked me if I still had a copy of a particular poem, “Waylay,” and I was fortunate enough that I finally heard from Pat about the same time in December 2007. After visiting with them for a while on Christmas Eve, 2007, I took the work home and began to retype it feverishly. I had not re alized how much I had written. Nor did I realize how much my style has remained con stant, and which themes would be unwittingly revisited in the last month of 2007 and first 6 weeks of 2008, as I wrote the majority of my new collection of poems and short stories, known as The Dementia of Iyan Igma. I was pleased to see what I would call some matu rity and improvement in my later work. Some parts are embarrassing, since I'm more of a Puritan than the Deist I used to be. Many parts are amazing to read. I wrote that when I was 16? Oh, as a note, I didn't drink or do drugs at that time, and I cursed about as much, though this would probably not be reflected this work. It is clear that I was a youth in this, just look at the themes. Many parts were written for laughs, as is explained later. Several reference the Navy, which I was scheduled to join. Some, such as “Bombardment,” are striking to me now, since they were written long before this post 9/11 mess. In the process of retyping this, I have only fixed the most essential errors. I have let the punctuation, grammar, and contrived words remain, since most were largely placed there purposefully in the beginning. The work will be almost as raw as the original draft, and hopefully I've introduced few typos in the process. I took out a redundant chapter page for the poems. The font has been changed. But over all it remains as intact as it was when I created it for the purposes that I described seven years ago on the following page.

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Pat and Eugene's copy will remain as the standard to judge the accuracy of this work by, and this edition will render their copy a more important possession. There are far fewer footnotes than The Dementia, so use the glossary. There are some nice Easter eggs in it. This abridged version of Repressed Memories is meant for more of a general audience, if that term could be said to apply. Several of the poems, many of the BSides, the autobiographical in formation, and a few of the prose works have been removed. Why? Because, simply put, they were horrible or unfit for consumption. Once you read the following works, you will start to wonder ex actly how horrible they were. After all, could it really get any worse than what is already found printed here? ENTRIES Poems: 354 Prose: 75 BSides: 40 Words: 86,536± The following were removed: Count, Comte, Earl; Lemon Dependence; Living with a Toe Nail; Kernel; Strange Things with Camels; Atnalta; Atnalta Revisited; Brian Johnson; The Creatively Named SAT; Tylenol BM; The Untouchables Commercial; Roller coaster; Crazy; Sinning Out; Speed; High Contrast Twins; The Dog; Kick me; Broom Sweeper; The Penguinnun; Crashing; Starting; O; Angle of Depression; Plum met; Crying; Rabid Scabied Chihuahua dog; Holy Rollers; Vultures and Condors; Chaste; Naked Mole Rat; 1 and 1 and 1 is 3; The Smell of Fresh Rubber; The Third Friend on the Outside; Treat Ladies...; The Quiet Before the Storm; In Sweden There Are No Tow Truck Drivers; most of the Re ally Awful One Liners; and some of the Some Less Than Interesting Thoughts.... 7

On the Nature, Intent, and Audience of These Documents This collection is not intended for the public at large. It is not intended to create controversy and thereby sell copies to those who would madly rush to consume it for that reason alone. It IS for myself, to point as a guide of future reference as to how I thought at that dark period of my life known as preadulthood, a time that, like the “dark ages” of Europe, may one day be forgotten like the infant years before it. It is also partially for some friends and close acquaintances who enjoy some of the stories and such oddities contained herein. I do not expect them to read all of it. I do not expect them to like all of it. I, myself, do not like most of it, but it is my thought, as much as I could manage to capture, and I have some accurséd desire to write and to preserve; a pack rat even of the unspoken. Some things to keep in mind while reading are that there's quite possibly some sarcasm and satire, that the usage of “an” is gratuitous and not a typo, and that the “I” in some poems is rarely Iyan Igma. The poetry should be read aloud and, despite what's been advised, line by line. Also, to any who reads the following and feels that something within might be said to address them, then I suppose it does. For even though I maybe mean one thing, everyone is entitled to interpretation. I would like to apologize to any reader who may be offended, myself included. There will doubtless be a passage that will offend anyone who reads far enough and takes too much of this seriously to mind. My only advice is read any parts you may enjoy, commit those to memory, and read nothing else. Ignore those that offend. I feel the need to further apologize for grammatical mistakes, and such; this is meant to be a raw work of feeling and youth and not a commercial ploy intended for the bedsides of the world to chew like bubblegum pop. Sadly, there is e'en a small amount of disgusting, poppy nonsense within; thankfully I am not proficient in its generation. Lamentably, I am skilled in writing sense less nonsense such as the tripe that will follow and in committing the sin of misspelling. Granted, most of the misspled words are so by choice, but many do not approve. Due to the unpolished diction and the topics, Slightly Demented is truly a childish work. But what could you expect from something with such a title and no true unity of thought? The audience by age of this is currently about fifteen and up. I know that I would not want many kids reading this, and, thankfully, certain limitations such as vocab ulary and experience may block them from full comprehension, should they stumble upon this eyesore. Again, I would like to apologize for constructing something which, while hav ing a few good points in my opinion, suffers from the stings of certain obscenities and per versions. To read this, the poor lads must take the good with the bad, or, if they are lucky, discover the good in excerpts contained elsewhere. Some teens get a kick from certain collec tions of phrases, but, as happens, they will not enjoy them as much when older. To any other reader who happens to pick this up by chance, reference, or, heaven forbid!, school, may God have mercy upon your soul. I mean that in the nicest possible way; you do want Him to love you, don't you?

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Repressed Memories Poetry....................................................................................................................................22 The Tragically Departed........................................................................................................22 Chapter I Lacking a Sensible Title.......................................................................23 Nature Lover...............................................................................................................................24 Fiend............................................................................................................................................25 Graveyards...................................................................................................................................26 Dear Freud...................................................................................................................................27 Sycamore......................................................................................................................................28 Toilet Seats..................................................................................................................................29 Entrance Exam............................................................................................................................30 Call of the Wild Vikings..............................................................................................................32 Heavily Medicated.......................................................................................................................33 On Monday..................................................................................................................................34 Regularities..................................................................................................................................35 Hypothetices................................................................................................................................36 Nu Mecksìckö..............................................................................................................................37 Donkey on My Thigh...................................................................................................................38 Chapter II Why Angels Scream............................................................................41 The Goodwill of Death................................................................................................................43 The Goodwill of Death (Original)................................................................................................44 The Gunslinger.............................................................................................................................45 Contempt of Court.......................................................................................................................46 Invitation....................................................................................................................................48 Eibmoz.........................................................................................................................................50 Hypocrisy, Revengeance Thereon..................................................................................................51 All Their Wildest Dreams............................................................................................................53 Venules.........................................................................................................................................54 Chapter III As Things Should Be.........................................................................55 Santa Anna and His Elves..........................................................................................................56 About Time..................................................................................................................................58 Let's Burn Venice........................................................................................................................59 Satire Is the Way of Life.............................................................................................................60 9

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Commit Murder............................................................................................................................61 Medieval Cures............................................................................................................................62 The Origins of the Orthodox Church............................................................................................63 The World Will Get By...............................................................................................................64 Enlightenment.............................................................................................................................65 Fatalist by Nature (Pacifist at Heart).........................................................................................66 The Conquistador's Beard.............................................................................................................67 Stood Up......................................................................................................................................68 A LongWinded Oversight, 12 Lines...........................................................................................69 Gallantly Priceless.......................................................................................................................70 Bitter Cloning, Tragic Mould.......................................................................................................71 A Cool Drink...............................................................................................................................72 Well, Have You?..........................................................................................................................73 Mommas.......................................................................................................................................74 Criticisms and Bitterness.............................................................................................................75 Apology to the Underappreciated................................................................................................76 Chapter IV As Things Are....................................................................................77 On Making Beds..........................................................................................................................78 Nuclear Fiend..............................................................................................................................79 Somewhat Free Verse on Socialism..............................................................................................80 Cliché............................................................................................................................................81 Spangles.......................................................................................................................................82 He Who Said Never.....................................................................................................................83 Lacking Style or Era or Form......................................................................................................84 You've Created.............................................................................................................................85 Everyone Is Changing..................................................................................................................86 No Controversy............................................................................................................................87 PsychoPhysiological Disorder.....................................................................................................88 Warsaw, Romance Therein...........................................................................................................89 Cur...............................................................................................................................................90 Fame............................................................................................................................................91 Consensual Fornications..............................................................................................................92 Portraying Disrespect: an American Scene..................................................................................93 Gnashing Hurt.............................................................................................................................94 Lust Is in Desire..........................................................................................................................95 Bryant Jennings...........................................................................................................................96 A Quiz.........................................................................................................................................97 Oh Fudge.....................................................................................................................................98 10

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Sickening......................................................................................................................................99 Cinema Trivial............................................................................................................................100 Dark Blue Pride.........................................................................................................................101 Bagels (Lenders).........................................................................................................................102 Bee Ess.......................................................................................................................................103 Face in Curtains.........................................................................................................................104 Eye of the Beholder....................................................................................................................105 When You've Slept.....................................................................................................................107 Bitterness Ruins.........................................................................................................................108 Humility.....................................................................................................................................109 Long, Narratively Sporadic Poems.............................................................................................110 Bringing on Contention.............................................................................................................111 Profitable...................................................................................................................................112 Decaffeinated Blue....................................................................................................................113 The Steel Decanter.....................................................................................................................114 Nylon Pant................................................................................................................................115 Twos...........................................................................................................................................116 Surreal Killer..............................................................................................................................117 Better Vision..............................................................................................................................118 Chapter V Urea...................................................................................................119 Elf..............................................................................................................................................120 Odd Sensation............................................................................................................................121 Venice........................................................................................................................................122 Vegetable Love...........................................................................................................................123 Adam's Rib................................................................................................................................124 Worldly......................................................................................................................................125 Waylay.......................................................................................................................................126 Without the Words....................................................................................................................127 Cold Sins....................................................................................................................................128 Digestive Processes....................................................................................................................129 An Idyll Goddess Whom One Cannot Help But to Revere........................................................130 Venice.........................................................................................................................................131 S. Mooching...............................................................................................................................132 Chapter VI To You..............................................................................................133 Nothings....................................................................................................................................134 Shour Drapes.............................................................................................................................135 Ashore........................................................................................................................................136 Golden Tips................................................................................................................................137 11

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Tripping Up...............................................................................................................................138 To Differ....................................................................................................................................139 Olivia.........................................................................................................................................140 Olive...........................................................................................................................................141 Onion.........................................................................................................................................142 Weakening.................................................................................................................................143 Vanguard...................................................................................................................................144 Entitlements..............................................................................................................................145 Fleece.........................................................................................................................................146 Unrestrainéd Passion Prevents Clear Thought...........................................................................147 Addiction on the Mind..............................................................................................................148 Expected....................................................................................................................................149 Volve..........................................................................................................................................150 Groggy Mumblings.....................................................................................................................151 1280x1024x32bpp.....................................................................................................................152 Demanotation............................................................................................................................153 Curiae.........................................................................................................................................154 Moors.........................................................................................................................................155 Pebbles.......................................................................................................................................156 Sri Lanka...................................................................................................................................157 Chapter VII All My Friends..............................................................................158 To the Dearly Regarded..............................................................................................................159 Golden........................................................................................................................................160 You So Mean..............................................................................................................................161 Nice in a New Year's Kind of Way............................................................................................162 Musician....................................................................................................................................163 I'm Sorry....................................................................................................................................164 Lump of Clay.............................................................................................................................165 Walnut Shell..............................................................................................................................166 Empty Crush..............................................................................................................................167 Makes Me Sick...........................................................................................................................168 Self Destructor...........................................................................................................................169 Insults on the Trampoline..........................................................................................................170 Pecan Man.................................................................................................................................171 Genetically Engineered...............................................................................................................172 Braggart of Unworthy Boasts...................................................................................................173 Take It, Easy..............................................................................................................................174 Prejudice Fades...........................................................................................................................175 12

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma A Return to This Nothingness....................................................................................................176 Mea Culpa..................................................................................................................................177 Penguins on My Own................................................................................................................178 Tally...........................................................................................................................................179 Burned Out Beacon...................................................................................................................180 Taste in Decisions......................................................................................................................181 For a Split Second......................................................................................................................182 .Jpg............................................................................................................................................183 E'ery Thing Changes You...........................................................................................................184 Pampers......................................................................................................................................185 Packaging...................................................................................................................................186 A Mus........................................................................................................................................187 Poetic Interference.....................................................................................................................188 Fact Smiles.................................................................................................................................189 Pluto and Charon.......................................................................................................................190 Feef............................................................................................................................................192 Will............................................................................................................................................193 Upon Awakening.......................................................................................................................194 Chapter VIII All Things Great and Small.........................................................195 Gluck.........................................................................................................................................196 So...............................................................................................................................................197 Joshing? Me?.............................................................................................................................198 A Philiac's Metamorphoses........................................................................................................199 Chapter IX Haiku's for No One..........................................................................201 Sweetness...................................................................................................................................201 Silk.............................................................................................................................................201 Conditioner................................................................................................................................201 Pools...........................................................................................................................................201 Lips............................................................................................................................................201 A Taste.......................................................................................................................................202 Tegument...................................................................................................................................202 Thermal Need.............................................................................................................................202 Llama.........................................................................................................................................202 Camel.........................................................................................................................................202 Indecencies.................................................................................................................................202 Necking......................................................................................................................................202 Objectivity.................................................................................................................................203 Thailand.....................................................................................................................................203 13

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma A Doll........................................................................................................................................203 A Right to Bear.........................................................................................................................203 Obelisks......................................................................................................................................203 Washington...............................................................................................................................203 SemiVery Precious....................................................................................................................203 Singing How She Does..............................................................................................................204 Licking? Good............................................................................................................................204 Placement...................................................................................................................................204 Jojo.............................................................................................................................................204 Maybe........................................................................................................................................204 Chapter X Travels................................................................................................205 Bridges.......................................................................................................................................206 Mendeleev..................................................................................................................................208 My White Love.........................................................................................................................209 Fief.............................................................................................................................................210 Deflowering Fields....................................................................................................................211 Ruins of the Present Day...........................................................................................................212 You No Be Existing...................................................................................................................213 Geneses.......................................................................................................................................214 An Abbey Row...........................................................................................................................215 Chapter XI Weed.................................................................................................216 Strawberry..................................................................................................................................217 Dreaming In...............................................................................................................................218 PinkScarred Skies......................................................................................................................219 Star............................................................................................................................................220 Wild...........................................................................................................................................221 Split Apart.................................................................................................................................222 War of the Roses........................................................................................................................223 Supernova..................................................................................................................................224 Meteors Must Land Somewhere................................................................................................225 Chapter XII Pelham Renaissance.......................................................................226 Omnivenicient............................................................................................................................228 Why Do I Always Hear Screams...............................................................................................230 Erroneous Misconceptions.........................................................................................................231 Armed Forces.............................................................................................................................232 Chapter XIII Perfection.....................................................................................233 That Which Offends Due to Its Unquestionable Filth.............................................................234 14

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Perfect Idealist...........................................................................................................................235 If I Were Omniscient.................................................................................................................236 The Perfect Couch......................................................................................................................237 Perfect Image.............................................................................................................................238 Chapter XIV Social Ills......................................................................................239 Generation of Suckers................................................................................................................240 Armed Boxing............................................................................................................................241 Lusting......................................................................................................................................243 Defamation................................................................................................................................244 In Heat......................................................................................................................................245 Take It from the Top..................................................................................................................246 Cereal.........................................................................................................................................247 Envy Me, Fools.........................................................................................................................248 Artificial Drinks........................................................................................................................249 Improvements.............................................................................................................................250 Chumps.......................................................................................................................................251 Eyece..........................................................................................................................................252 Not Just a Name........................................................................................................................253 A Friend, A Fan, A Wouldn'tBe Lover...................................................................................254 Chapter XV Seasons of Christianity...................................................................255 The Falling of the Leaves..........................................................................................................256 Already Got One?......................................................................................................................257 Services......................................................................................................................................258 QuasiCultural Perspective........................................................................................................259 Being Made in the Image of a Deity, and Other Examples of Utility......................................260 Role Model.................................................................................................................................261 Pardon, Could You Spare Some Assistance?..............................................................................262 Defense of Clones, Not of Cloning.............................................................................................263 Jesus the Polygamist..................................................................................................................266 Basking and Asking...................................................................................................................267 If Deists Were Deer...................................................................................................................268 A Condemnation, Like Many Things (I Write).........................................................................269 Nigh Bouts................................................................................................................................270 Chapter XVI Sin Colored Glasses.......................................................................271 She Wore Smiling Flowers.........................................................................................................272 Dreaming the Sweet Dream.......................................................................................................273 Silent Thief.................................................................................................................................274 A Banana...................................................................................................................................275 15

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma The Truth of all Bananas...........................................................................................................276 One Simple Blunder...................................................................................................................277 Real World.................................................................................................................................278 Fear The.....................................................................................................................................279 Fear Is.......................................................................................................................................280 Fear In.......................................................................................................................................281 Fear For.....................................................................................................................................282 Alien Nation..............................................................................................................................283 Amnesia.....................................................................................................................................284 Pax Gaea....................................................................................................................................285 Voice of Temptation...................................................................................................................286 Chapter XVII Crime to Smile.............................................................................287 I'm a Wussy...............................................................................................................................288 Navy..........................................................................................................................................289 The Jest......................................................................................................................................290 Laughter's Medicine..................................................................................................................291 Why I like Penguins Better.......................................................................................................292 Slave..........................................................................................................................................293 Am I Nothing Then?..................................................................................................................294 Little Girls.................................................................................................................................295 Bombardment.............................................................................................................................297 Chapter XVIII Spectacles for Love....................................................................298 A Million Miles.........................................................................................................................299 Adam et Eve..............................................................................................................................300 Loved.........................................................................................................................................301 Love Like Tow'ring Hands........................................................................................................302 If................................................................................................................................................303 Breaking Up..............................................................................................................................304 Regret.........................................................................................................................................305 And She Was Crying..................................................................................................................306 To Forgive..................................................................................................................................308 Forgive.......................................................................................................................................309 Forgiveness.................................................................................................................................310 An Eye for a Cry........................................................................................................................311 Communicate..............................................................................................................................312 Spastic........................................................................................................................................313 No One.......................................................................................................................................314 To all the Ones...........................................................................................................................315 16

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Eulogy........................................................................................................................................316 Chapter XIX Loathe............................................................................................317 How Do I Loathe Thee..............................................................................................................318 Cast Your Tears..........................................................................................................................319 Eva Rhea...................................................................................................................................320 Mute..........................................................................................................................................321 Souleful Compassion..................................................................................................................322 Malicious, But True...................................................................................................................323 Paint Thinner Chips...................................................................................................................324 CurAid......................................................................................................................................325 Illegitimate Father.....................................................................................................................326 Chapter XX ¡Wow!.............................................................................................327 Hamiltonian Perversions............................................................................................................328 Mercen.......................................................................................................................................331 Procreatory Success....................................................................................................................332 Chapter XXI Sellout...........................................................................................334 Brutally Honest.........................................................................................................................335 M. Poster Boy............................................................................................................................336 Privation....................................................................................................................................337 Concise Interruptions................................................................................................................338 How Truly Weird It Is Others Can See My Words...................................................................339 The Zenith of Oblivion..............................................................................................................340 Disdain from Wittenburg Castle................................................................................................341 Hardly Deep...............................................................................................................................342 Dialectal....................................................................................................................................343 Wary..........................................................................................................................................344 Chapter XXII Secret Agenda Man.....................................................................345 Meticulous.................................................................................................................................346 I Wish I Could Say No..............................................................................................................347 Whispers....................................................................................................................................348 W Turn Off the Lights..............................................................................................................349 Retrograde Amnesia...................................................................................................................350 Grade.Average............................................................................................................................351 It Started In December..............................................................................................................352 Some on My Eighteenth Year....................................................................................................353 Pods for Transportation.............................................................................................................354 Always the Exception................................................................................................................355 17

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma I Never Claimed I Was..............................................................................................................356 Meaningless Depression.............................................................................................................357 Dead People...............................................................................................................................358 Spellings.....................................................................................................................................359 Depths of Dubious Deception...................................................................................................360 GroundLovers...........................................................................................................................361 Inkéd Blood's Transpiration......................................................................................................362 No One Ever Notices.................................................................................................................363 Ireun..........................................................................................................................................364 Myself........................................................................................................................................365 Packaging Peanuts [Safety].......................................................................................................368 Without a Mind's Eye...............................................................................................................369 Amoebic Pseudopod...................................................................................................................370 Infallible....................................................................................................................................371 Chapter XXIII Doors..........................................................................................372 A Valediction: Truth..................................................................................................................373 A Valediction to Innocence........................................................................................................374 A Valediction: Forbidding Morning..........................................................................................375 To What Was: a Valediction.....................................................................................................376 It's the Goodbyes That Count....................................................................................................377 Dark Blue..................................................................................................................................379 Prose...................................................................................................................................380 Chapter XXV..............................................................................................................................381 Bananas.....................................................................................................................................381 Bananas Revisited....................................................................................................................382 Messy Breakup..........................................................................................................................383 High School Love.......................................................................................................................385 High School Love: 2...................................................................................................................386 Death Rides a Green Bicycle......................................................................................................388 A Tall Smooth Shaft..................................................................................................................391 If Deer Were Deists...................................................................................................................394 AA Meetings..............................................................................................................................397 Sleepy Date................................................................................................................................398 Santa..........................................................................................................................................400 Knowledge and Excommunication............................................................................................401 The Naked Mole Rat and the Penguin.......................................................................................402 Pygmy........................................................................................................................................403 Scales.........................................................................................................................................404 18

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Ground Beef...............................................................................................................................405 Mandibles..................................................................................................................................407 The Pimp and the Pheromone Rose Garden................................................................................408 In the Off Season.......................................................................................................................409 Chapter XXIV Letters and Epistles....................................................................411 Literature Springs from Bloodshed............................................................................................411 If Adam and Eve Were Greek....................................................................................................412 The Sexuality of Virgin Olive Oil (and Other Perishables).........................................................412 Truth about Bambi....................................................................................................................413 The Real Story of Frankenstein..................................................................................................414 Organic.......................................................................................................................................415 I'm Here for You.........................................................................................................................416 Some Thoughts on Female Brain Shrinkage...............................................................................417 Just Because You're Out of the Valley Doesn't Mean the Hill or Mountain Is That Great......417 Mothers Know Because of Chromosomes”.................................................................................418 Genetics......................................................................................................................................418 Extinction..................................................................................................................................419 Is Nature Alive..........................................................................................................................419 The Appropriateness of Hymen..................................................................................................420 On Vampires...............................................................................................................................421 Why the Irish Fight...................................................................................................................422 Misunderstandings Expand the Vocabulary.............................................................................422 Balances of New Ideas..............................................................................................................423 Innocence to Corruption to Mindset.........................................................................................424 Innocence Left Unattended......................................................................................................424 A New Brave World..................................................................................................................425 Men Should Be Islands.............................................................................................................426 Humans Are Not Made to Be Alone..........................................................................................427 Banana Republic........................................................................................................................427 Conscience..................................................................................................................................428 Reflections upon My Shrinking World......................................................................................429 Death.........................................................................................................................................429 Death, Part 2: Processed Meat..................................................................................................430 Television...................................................................................................................................430 Friendship..................................................................................................................................431 Beggars Are Choosers.................................................................................................................432 Infection....................................................................................................................................433 Just Say No................................................................................................................................433 19

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma No More Heroes.........................................................................................................................434 The Future Is Escape and Death...............................................................................................435 Truth Is the Worst Sin...............................................................................................................436 Why a Trapped Animal Is the Most Deadly.............................................................................436 Which Murder Is More Unnatural?..........................................................................................437 50% of the Right Choices...........................................................................................................438 The Once and Future Innocence................................................................................................438 Religious Prejudice.....................................................................................................................439 Terrorism....................................................................................................................................440 The Joys of Sin...........................................................................................................................441 Cult............................................................................................................................................441 AntiAgnostic............................................................................................................................442 Think You're In Love.................................................................................................................442 Friendship: Again......................................................................................................................443 Huh............................................................................................................................................443 Chapter XXV Lewd Reference Dictionary.........................................................444 Some Reasons I Like Computers More Than the People That Operate Them.............................446 The New English Handbook for Starting and Maintaining Your Cult.....................................447 Advice for/During the Wooing of a Woman.............................................................................449 Some Less Than Interesting Thoughts, Musings, and Not so Witty Banter to Ponder or to Spout in Everyday Conversation................................................................................................451 Widdles......................................................................................................................................455 Shots..........................................................................................................................................464 BSides................................................................................................................................465 Chapter XXVI BSides.......................................................................................466 Life............................................................................................................................................467 Dressing Up...............................................................................................................................468 Circumstance..............................................................................................................................469 Rego...........................................................................................................................................470 Screw the Farmers! <There's More of “Us” Anyways>..............................................................471 If Kept Busy..............................................................................................................................472 Planning.....................................................................................................................................473 Love............................................................................................................................................474 The Jungle..................................................................................................................................476 Set Me........................................................................................................................................479 Repression..................................................................................................................................480 The Black Rose...........................................................................................................................481 Sing Along.................................................................................................................................482 20

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Independence.............................................................................................................................483 Almost........................................................................................................................................484 Bloodstained Tears.....................................................................................................................485 Everyman...................................................................................................................................486 Left in the Weeds......................................................................................................................487 Manic Depressive......................................................................................................................488 Masochism Schism.....................................................................................................................489 My Fellow Americans................................................................................................................490 Not a Night for Love.................................................................................................................491 On the Back of a Sign................................................................................................................492 Sorrow's Song............................................................................................................................493 Dinner........................................................................................................................................496 Tucked Away in the Silent Corner..............................................................................................497 The Last.....................................................................................................................................498 Tears to Set Love.......................................................................................................................499 Immobilized Victim...................................................................................................................500 Lingering....................................................................................................................................501 Why?.........................................................................................................................................502 Cry.............................................................................................................................................503 Groan.........................................................................................................................................504 Wide Open Eyes........................................................................................................................505 Separations................................................................................................................................507 Bloodstained Hands...................................................................................................................508 Out of Touch..............................................................................................................................509 Disadvantages/Advantages.......................................................................................................510 His Own Island.........................................................................................................................512 Appendices..........................................................................................................................513 Thesaurus/Glossary of Terms Used Herein................................................................................514 A Commentary...........................................................................................................................545 Thoughts on Slightly Demented.................................................................................................553 ABOUT THE AUTHOR..........................................................................................................555 21

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Here Beginneth Various Works of Poetry As Followeth Art In IllDefined Chapters The Tragically Departed This is dedicated to the tragically departed; The ones who had to leave when, alas, their lives had only started. This is dedicated to the ones we all shall miss, Whose kind souls and pure camaraderie filled our souls with bliss. This is dedicated to the ones who've passed away; They're singing with the angels now where it is ever day. There once was a young promising scholar at my school Who had a light heart indeed, yet was no one's fool. John Ross Collins was sorely mourned when his candle burned out, But his legacy of wit and wisdom shall be with us these years throughout. J.R., we really miss you and hate the gun that took you away Via unfortunate circumstance to be with the One to whom we pray. Often it seems one doesn't realize how one cares for those around, And, sadly, through departure the depth of care is found. Shirice was gifted and endowed with the ability to draw, But it was, perhaps, not this but her strength and kindness that friends saw. If she were here upon this day, there is no telling what she would say, But it can be appreciated of Ms. Travis that she saw in many shades of gray. It was dark and desolate when the winds came in all their might To escort this dearly beloved to where cometh no night. 22

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Chapter I Lacking a Sensible Title It seems I've found something Which I never thought I'd lost. It was at the barrel's bottom Under brick layers of frost. 5 I rejoiced to rediscover This gift that was gone, But where did I place it When I answered the phone? 23

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Nature Lover “Love mother nature!” Were the words that he heard. Immediately he went out To do bad things with a bird. 5 It's okay in the South To love nature—your mother. But it's rather risqué1 To love one's oaken brother. He was raised in climes 10 That bred incest; It was only natural he fondled His piney sister's knotty breast. This dendrophiliac2 was eventually found. “I was loving nature!” he cried. 15 “Which is why we're bringing you in; The goat's died.” 1 Risqué: racy or naughty 2 Dendrophiliac: an intimate lover of trees 24

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Fiend I had sex with an alien, But she was over sixteen. So everything was kosher3, You know what I mean. 5 It may have been an abduction, But it was not rape, For I gladly consented; Even got the whole thing on tape. To me there's nothing like 10 Greenspeckled blue skin. Just pondering over it Makes me desire it again. She really liked my pants, Was dying to get in; 15 I took them off, and That's when the magic did begin. Now I'm bearing our love child, But the judge says I get no palimony4. I guess he doesn't believe in aliens 20 And thinks I'm some kind of phony. 3 Kosher: okay 4 Palimony: payment made to support a former intimate 25

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Graveyards Graveyards are by far the World's most romantic places. There is nothing quite as Thrilling as rotting faces. 5 Mausoleums are quite Like a private hotel; An cultured girl Will not mind the smell Of rotting death and 10 Granite and dew. If she's squeamish bring Her flowers or glue To sniff. Grab a meal and Converse before you take a walk 15 Around, because you'll be too Preoccupied to wish to talk Once emotion takes hold And you lie to rest on A plot that was sold 20 To some other being. 26

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Dear Freud Dear Freud, I don't Recall us ever having met, But you would analyze me More than I could possibly forget. 5 Some might call me slightly demented, You might call me male; But at least I don't have envy Or the libido of a snail. If everything's connected 10 As you believe, Then there are no levels Of perversion I cannot achieve! 27

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Sycamore I put my love in a sycamore tree To let her sobre out, For she breathes jack o' the daniels And is a drunken lout. 5 I put my love in a sycamore tree Because she likes to scream and shout, But, when I climbed up to bring her down, She tried to push me out. I put my love in a sycamore tree, 10 But she didn't seem to care; All that she did was ignore me And play with the birdies there. I put my love in a sycamore tree With the winds and rains and snow 15 Blowing harshly around her ears, But none of this phased her, though. I put my love in a sycamore tree, Perchance I should've put her in a bush. For now, when I try to talk , 20 She but merely tells me “shush.” I put my love in a sycamore tree, And I regret the day I did; For my love jumped right out, Ran away, and hid. 28

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Toilet Seats An old man caught me by surprise one day When on a pier he thumped my thigh. I spun about from fishing inquisitively And found an odd look in his eye. 5 It seemed rather glazed over, and The other orb was of plain brown wood. The effect and expression his repelling eyes Achieved, no crosseyed kid's could. My moment of awe was interrupted 10 When his glazed eye began to dance To each forceful syllable That he uttered in his trance. He went into convulsions, Snapped out and said, “Please,” 15 Something or the other; The rest was in Vietnamese. I was going to seek a new fishing spot When he spouted his life's story. He rather especially stressed 20 One of his moments of glory. “I had to train my wife, boy, To put up the toilet seat; If I can put it down for her, Then she could put it up for me.” 25 It was then I regarded Him as crazy; I looked into his eyes, The wooden one was lazy. 29

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Entrance Exam I never thought I'd die; I'd been around so long. But one day I was shot For singing a country song. 5 Everything became misty, But I stumbled through the smoke Only to find some gates and This guy. This is what he spoke. “You've got to pass this test 10 To gain admission into heaven; God rather dislikes people With IQ's of only seven. The test has no lies, just Multiple Choice, TrueFalse; 15 It doesn't matter if you can Sing and dance or do a waltz. Smiles and good works Can't get you in my city, Neither can Faith 20 Hill or a charming ditty. Complete in No. 2 lead, Sign in blue ink where needed. Go tell Old St. Pete When this exam you have completed. 25 If you fail this battery,5 You should've listened in school, For it's only reading, writing, 'Rithmetic, not prophesying, fool.” I told him I only had No. 3 lead 30 And an pink ink pen. I found that remark amusing, But he didn't bother to grin. He pointed over by the gates To a desk that was rather wee6. 5 Battery: exam, test 6 Wee: small 30

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma 35 I shuffled over and crammed in; It was uncomfortable for me. To my satisfaction, the test contained Vast amounts of geometry; I had aced the math portion 40 With a 210 on the SAT. So maybe I'm not meant for heaven As far as tests are concerned. But I'd climb those offwhite gates Afore I'd get scorched and burned. 45 But, really, there's no need for that Since the gates have no abutting wall. I'd prefer to walk right in Than risk another death from the fall. 31

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Call of the Wild Vikings Flee the call of the wild Vikings, They've come to steal your soul, Your smallclothes and your nostrils, And emptiness from its hole. 5 For the unstoppable wild Vikings The duty of war is fun. If they'd wanted anguish and pain, they'd Be home with wives and everyone. What other occupation allows 10 For the despoilment of an horse Or the pillaging of women? Ah, it's good to be Norse, As parenting involves The burning of other's children, 15 And stealing entire villages Is not counted as a sin. Norsemen seek honor, feats, Exploits, mead, and gold. Plus, they don't fear death, 20 For, in the end, all are mold. 32

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Heavily Medicated Women should stay heavily medicated; They're more receptive to my lack of charm. Thus, with the use of some overused Lines they'll gravitate to my arm. 5 All of my best experiences In Romance have been with drugs. To my great dismay I have not The playa powers of thugs. But do not get me wrong; I didn't 10 Take advantage of these lasses. I was being myself, when they Warmed to me. Must've been the glasses. I was unaccustomed To these perplexing anomalies. 15 Always later I find out That I've been used by druggies. And to my blissful case Of ignorance I plead That I deserve these happenings 20 For the disappointing love life I lead. 33

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma On Monday On Monday things happened As they've normally done before: In inefficient turmoil and boredom Whilst I walked across the floor 5 Following the lead and guidance Of a crackbaby puppy Whose harlotrous dam bred Like a nymphomaniac guppy, Judging from the number of siblings 10 Trotting round me with fourlegged woes And withdrawal. Each is rummaging Through alien baggage with the nose, With sniffyllis's wet snorting; a germ's Moistly chilled fragrant monumental landform. 15 Occasionally one limply collapses after Sniffing government crack or chloroform. 34

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Regularities There've been some nasty rumours Concerning why I can't maintain a job. It seems the opinion of the public Mandates that I'm a slob. 5 But if they only knew Life is but misconceptions, They'd have long since stopped postulating for Other's imaginary directions. Truth be known, joblessness informs 10 Me of the status of my physique, As I am administered physicals Almost every other week. I frequent a room with latex Gloves where the air is crisply cold. 15 There I must run in place and Obediently do as I am told. What would they do for love, Wealth, or a just7 measure? Lie down, anything, and protest like 20 Their gossip about my pleasure. 7 Just: fair 35

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Hypothetices What would you do If your freckles were blue? Would you marry me? I'm just one with toes 5 Who likes to propose And formulate hypothetices8. If there were none else Besides the Celts Would you dye yourself with wode? 10 I'm a desperately settling guy Who'd accept even a lie, Though most tell me to hit the road. 8 Hypothetices: hypothetical situations 36

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Nu Mecksìckö I'm going New Mexico With curtains on my car; Not to shade my eyes On a journey that far. 5 See, I may be lucky, If fortune is with me, And I would not want The whole world to see The adventures of my 10 Honey I have newly met, Unless they pay to see Us on the Internet. Curtains make it legal by Some disturbing legal action 15 To make the uncomfortable Back seat a place of satisfaction. 37

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Donkey on My Thigh Like a donkey on his thigh Pale as coffee creamer, Sat this greedily braying, Compulsive little screamer. 5 If that derrière had a Tail with which to swat flies, Then it would be wagging back And forth lashing nose and eyes. “Look , kid, I'm not Santa.” 10 The elf he'd ever feared. “This is called a goatee; It is not a beard. Did someone put you up to this?” Questioned the drunken hippie's voice, 15 Which for some reason caused the child To toothily grin and rejoice. Pointing from the park bench Into the blinding rays To where the bells'd ring on 20 Wintry and generous days, The lad assigned the culprit a Figure, he who'd sent him to thigh. After the sun Jonat was color Blind and had splotches before the eye. 25 Blinking quickly for a moment, Thus did he himself entertain, Until the miscreant's recognition Caused him to refrain. Jonat noted then the 30 Kid's ears were pointy, too. Tugging, they were indeed Naturally affixèd not with glue. Jonat would have fled Could Santa not fly, 35 But Santa walked over And began with, “Hi, 38

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Jonat.” Said Santa somberly, “You've got to share the wealth. You are my only hope in 40 This time of my failing health. Glaucoma is catching me, but No hospital will treat me; They won't admit me under Nick Since no doctors believe in me. 45 I'm asking you to forgive me For handcuffing you at three And stranding you at age four In your pajamas outside your door. Could you forget what chanced 50 When you were but five, And I ditched you shortly Where polar bears do thrive?” Jonat sorely rubbed his scars and But for the elf would've spoken a curse. 55 But still, the white mammoths left him Alive. It could have been worse. “I need a dope connection; Would you be my supplier? I promise that from now on 60 I won't set your dogs on fire. I only played those games for Boredom of the night's passing. I promise I'll find another Schmuck to start harassing. . . 65 Could you put aside your petty Anger and fear for the general good? I'd send the elves to the Streets if only I could Rely on them to continue 70 Working stoned reliably, But drugs destroy industry, And I need them more than you, Since they enable Christmas With their toy production.” 39

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma 75 He neglected to mention most elves already Were on morphine for arthritispain reduction, Since their bodies last for centuries before The toosoon spiritual abduction. “Besides, would you really want to see 80 Small humanoid prostitutes with dime bags? Those occupations should be left to The active, the mellow, and the hags. You remember when you were six And first you bingéd on pot? 85 You should atone for this by Giving me juana and what not.” “I only began early because You drove me to tormentation; Mellowness was the suggestion of 90 My therapist's evaluation.” “Then you should have some honor, respect, And appreciation for me, Since I am why you are such. Roll me A fatty an you have dignity.” 95 Jonat was never one to miss a Chance. He and Santa mellowly conversed, Until of a sudden back to the Former conversation Santa burst. “Think of it as payback for childhood; 100You never left me milk or a cookie. Just leave me pot, hash brownies, and Several quarts of psybocilin tea.” Jonat finally Agreed; it should pay well. 105It seems there is one gift they can't Produce in the land of Noel. 40

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Chapter II Why Angels Scream “Why do the angels scream? Why do they let tears fall? What has happened to their wings? Why hath they their fair eyes clawed?” 5 “Lament they o'er nothing; They are afraid of the dark. Sadly has cold fear on seas Tossed begun to embark.” “Why do the angels scream? 10 Of what dark fearest they? Light of brilliance does surround, Cast by He to whom we pray.” “Lament they o'er nothing; God's merely left their fold. 15 Like a mother with child away Are they without Him to behold.” “Why do the angels scream? Is not He their master? An He travels where He likes, 20 How canst it be disaster?” “Lament they o'er nothing; God vacations in Hell To visit Fire and Brimstone And all His angels which fell.” 25 “Why do the angels scream, An God's on vacation? He did so on the seventh day; Such is not below His station.” “Lament they o'er nothing; 30 They only overreact. He's used omnipotence To fix what He hath lacked.” “Why do the angels scream, An God's more complete? 41

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma 35 How canst they criticize He For whom they grovel at feet?” “Lament they o'er nothing; Evil He found more fun. He decided He'd be Satan, 40 An He was anyone.” “Why do the angels scream; The Lord can be all things? Why're they afraid of the dark? What has happened to their wings?” 45 “Lament they o'er nothing; In the dark they're alone. Without servitude's duty, Passing insane have they grown.” “Why do the angels scream? 50 Despise they an day off? The longer He is in Hell, The less at them can He scoff.” “Lament they o'er nothing; He's never to return. 55 Desolation they comprehend Finally, since He did them spurn.” “Why do the angels scream And venture not to Him? Golden cities are naught 60 Without their finest gems.” “Lament they o'er nothing; They've but been forsaken. Now they art devils, and wings From their backs hath been shaken.” 65 “Why did God betray them? What taint could so corrode? An angels do lack leadership, Then for humans this does forebode.” “Forsook them because of I, 70 The Prince of Deceptive Might. Now canst I command heaven, In the absence of light.” 42

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma The Goodwill of Death “Good ladies and good gentlemen, And those of gentler births, I stand before you here today For a crime that is the worst. 5 But before ye yet judge me With a sentence that shan't waver, Please, let me inform you Of how I did him a courteous favor. I gave him the goodwill of death, 10 As goodwill to all must be. How can you possibly think This was ill of me? Some people may nod or wave Or shake another's hand, 15 But me, I merely accosted him with A smile and laid him out in the sand. This earth is a cruél place, What with kids and wives and rent; He's probably up there thanking me 20 Now that his life is spent. How rather unfortunate You've taken this the wrong way; Perhaps you'll understand when you Have the goodwill of death someday.” 43

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma The Goodwill of Death (Original) “Good ladies and good gentlemen, And those of gentler birth, I stand before your naked eyes, Which I can see hold no mirth. 5 I know that you think me ill, and While I may not fully agree, I stand before you to confess Of his death I was guilty. Nay, look you not so much appalled 10 And think great ill of me, For he was cruelly trapped on Earth, And I merely did but free. I gave him the goodwill of death, As goodwill to man must be, 15 And for this kindness I'm sure You'll find naught but good in me. I did him a favour, you must see, To manumit9 him from this earth. For what you see as death here 20 In heaven is but birth. And now he's in a better place And of one thing I'm sure, That if there we met face to face, He'll thank me for the favour.” 9 manumit: free, liberate 44

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma The Gunslinger In the sling where he'd hurt his arm, He kept his gun for safekeeping. From his persona he never removed it, E'en through bathing and sleeping. 5 He had a complex fascination with It; he admired it everyday. He always kept it unloaded, For with it he liked to play. He was trapped alone in the wilderness 10 Of the city, lonesome in this world. If his lover was an revolver, Gently would its chamber have been twirled. Fantasizing as one day he pulled the Trigger, he found the ammo to be dust. 15 The mote flew through his eye, and It the retina did bust. There upon meninges upon His brain beneath the sealed hatch Rested the irritating speck that would 20 Prove to be an itch he couldn't scratch. Though the arbiting source of His unrequited distress, His unloaded gun everyday He continued to caress. 25 Unable to continue longer, He drowned in his bath tub. There with him as always was His cold, metallic love. 45

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Contempt of Court One day the state will call a Witness that does not wish to go. Down the aisle on the bailiff's arm Shall he be escorted past each row. 5 “To ignore the insidious Question, I will not testify. Hold your clamorous uproar, And I shall tell you why. I swore to tell the truth; and 10 There's but one truth I possess. All lawyers are evil. Nay, I shalt not digress! Onesided questions Employed to misrepresent 15 Testimony makes me Your entire creed resent. Is it implicit or declared law To manipulate information To ever biasédly 20 Behoove your evil situation? Both sides radiate an Equally pungent offense. May Sheol10 be loved by the Prosecution and defense. 25 It's appalling—the ways the Greek debate system you've profaned. The beauty from your dreams Must have been drained. If I were me I'd have 30 The lot of ye flogged, And for each previous case Between the eyes frogged.” Being a former barrister, The judge will not agree. 35 The poor chap'll be held in 10 Sheol: Hell 46

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Contempt, and locked up with no key. But the abyss of hatred wherein He bids the penal system to port Proves that he's the one that should 40 Mete out true contempt of court. 47

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Invitation To an old friend: “Please come to my wedding; Remember when as a child In winter we went sledding? 5 We were the best of friends Through the end of high school When, over some girl, Friendship was proven a fool. I beg you to attend; 10 On time, if you can. If it weren't for the split, You'd be the best man. Signed, please attend.” Such was The message I did dispatch. 15 Happily on that day I saw Him sit 'neath the church's thatch. It was a smaller church, Rustic and delightful, Almost as much as his 20 Look that was purely frightful When in waltzéd the Bride he'd ditched me for Upwards of three Years, almost four. 25 On the envelope I'd faked It said “Tito and Melaine.” I forged it to engineer For him great pain. The girl he quit talking to 30 Me for left him for another, And, eventually, her mom Became my mother. Revenge is fulfilling, just As an empty wealth and bride 35 That demand that you Flaunt them not hide. 48

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma But as I watched the lad There, this I couldn't deny: I was sorry for not 40 Making him sooner cry. 49

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Eibmoz Night time passed in insolence Foiled by the brazen day. Makes me wish for somnambulism In a nonnocturnal way. 5 A moldy fist punctures the earth, As is seen happen too often. Summed maliciousness coursed and made A crater of ground and coffin. There arrayed alone was 10 The form of wretched glee. I was buried dead not alive, Still the coffin could not restrain me. Who wants to haunt as a ghost when the Nonethereal is intangible? 15 I'd rather torment physically In a form none can kill. Some imitate the undead— Mindless in their daily ventures. Fools! Snatch passion whilst you can; some 20 Worlds enforce eternal censures. 50

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Hypocrisy, Revengeance Thereon The extent of her hypocrisy He found difficult to believe; Never in his disclosed life Had he been one to deceive. 5 She was using religion as her Front, and all thought her high and mighty. He knew she'd been around sin's block And found this ruse of hers flighty. He knew what she often wanted and got; 10 The safety employed by her impure reasons. For being as a serpent, deceptive, He wracked the latex with lesions. In that experience of her delight, Which in public she would call a sin, 15 He was comforted by knowing he Acted for a good cause and did grin. He had always been honest and Open and let the whole world know. When she asked if he loved her, 20 It mattered not that he said no. His views ever disclosed, The world got over it, Except for the guilty who thought His truth lies and had a fit 25 Sanctimoniously/hypocritically. A few weeks after she did conceive She recognized it and began to grieve. She couldn't have an abortion And with it be through; 30 It wouldn't be a very Religious thing to do. In the eyes of an overly Critical world her sins were shown. She should have left 35 Well enough alone. 51

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma What her society never grasped is That none has a right to judge another. Every human is flawed imperfectly, An11 it came from a punished mother. 40 When her former lover considered If it was worth the effort, He found hypocrisyrevealing A magnanimously noble sport, Even though for it he must now 45 Pay heavily in child support. 11 An: If 52

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma All Their Wildest Dreams And all their wildest dreams came true, Though for many years they had dreamed— A large collection must they have. But, presently, they haply beamed. 5 And all their wildest dreams came true. They said they'd never have believed It in a million, though they'd thought Of it oft'. They must be deceived. And all their wildest dreams came true 10 With my rapid ascent to wealth. So laden12, I remembered them. Later, we toasted to my health. And all their wildest dreams came true Upon an island I had bought. 15 Upon the peerless shore was the Mansion by tiki weavers wrought. And all their wildest dreams came true Because of the taint that's money. When my mansion disappeared via 20 Explosives, I thought it funny. And all of my wildest dreams came true Living in a bungalow alone Where I'm free from interfering, Greedy friends and the telephone. 12 So laden: wealthy 53

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Venules Your wrists are so blue and vibrant and rich That they've made a passion within to itch As I sit near you watching blue streaks jump. I feel passing breathless, though mine lungs pump. 5 Think I how lovely it would be To have your arms tightly round me, Wrist closed crossed slightly behind my neck. Thus embraced, your lips I would peck. And I'd tremble, though not for kiss, 10 But from sheer joy and oozing bliss At having your love trickle down My vertebral spine from the frown Upon each wrist that I you gave Because my passion'd not behave. 15 They tempted me sore with their tunnels Passing fair that, as if with funnels, Must be drained. Note I did not slit Lengthwise, thus you'd live a tad bit Longer or perchance die not at all, 20 As winter blocked by eternal fall. Lifelessly listless you've become While hugging me to death, and some Of you13 pools on my back. My pet Your love14 stains much as runner's sweat: 25 Lumbarly collected at the tail With thoracic ellipses, as well. While your pallor groweth more pale, Our chemistry doth I inhale. 13 Some of you: your blood 14 Love: blood 54

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Chapter III As Things Should Be Let's hear it for How things should be And drunkenly rework The shards of history. 5 The shattered remains of The lives of men and deeds We should trample with unshod War horses, great and rearing steeds Who will mire us down 10 As they go lame. If toxic byproducts There are, these are to blame. 55

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Santa Anna and His Elves Santa Anna15 and his elves, They're coming to your town; You're outnumbered a thousand to one, And they're gonna burn you down. 5 Santa Anna and his elves, They are a merry bunch; They lay waste to everything And drink fresh blood like punch. Santa Anna and his elves 10 Go on a first name basis, For one day Santa Claus got tired And decided to switch places. Now down in old Havanny Lives good ole St. Nick; 15 He rounds up all the naughty girls And from them takes his pick. It seems Santa is a ladies man, Girls' hearts he's been known to steal; Only it's a shame Mrs. Claus 20 Does not like the way he feels. Santa Anna and his elves Give out tequila on Christmas Eve; While it's bad for children, The winos have remembered to believe. 25 Christmas is now a burden For all the parents that must now buy toys, But tequila comes in handy When you have Barbie doll receiving boys. Santa Anna is so happy, 30 So happy he could cry. He loves his elves so very much, But why does he love them, why? An elf is a small breed of elk , Which is a type of deer, 35 Yet even though they do make toys, 15 Santa Anna: a Mexican general of the mid1800s who outnumbered the slain at the Alamo 56

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma They make some mighty potent beer. The world was all liquored up; Santa Anna was ready to attack. But the elves and reindeer 40 Decided they'd rather hit the sack. Now the North Pole is swamped With messages asking why “Mommy stole my liquor?” and “Where's that action figure guy?” 45 Santa Anna made a solemn vow To drink while he's still alive; But don't worry kids— He let's the reindeer drive. Now most of this was fiction, 50 The rest of it untrue; Santa Anna wants another worm, The elves have requested two. 57

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma About T ime People who make claims They cannot reinforce Obviously have no shame; Possess little remorse. 5 For example, it's not the World Series, Maybe the CanadianAmerican. Are there any potential teams From Mexico and Japan? Miss Universe will never be a valid 10 Title until aliens are competing. Alienesses may blend in with salad, But they'll be exquisite, I am sure. Time, UFOs, and lies fly When things hit the fan. 15 Nevertheless, I wish to see spaced delegates To Miss Universe as soon as I can. 58

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Let's Burn Venice Fie on blasted romance! Venice must be burned, Because the affects I Intimated were spurned. 5 If I cannot be happy, Then that city must perish. When but a pile of ash, it Won't look nearly as garish. Gondolariddled alleys? 10 Ha! Rather have a canoe. Maybe the gondoliers will All die of the fever and the flu. Venice should be as Venus, Which may be its namesake— 15 It should be a scorchéd place Where the lands doth bake. Or should it, perhaps, be leveled 'neath That omniencompassing salty lake16? 16 omniencompassing salty lake: the ocean 59

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Satire Is the Way of Life “Satire is the way of life,” Decreed good King Ferdinand. “Columbus thinks Isabella a patron; She merely rid him from our land. 5 He believes the world to be round, This we've been blessed to always know. But the infallible Catholic Church won't let it be professed so. But maybe the Church is right, 10 And the earth, she is flat. Columbus would then sail right off; We can all hope for that.” “But, husband,” asked Isabella, “Will you buy back my jewels? 15 They were, after all, worth more Than ridding Europe of some fools.” 60

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Commit Murder Dear sir, I'd like to commit Murder as a ward of the state Into your asylum for Desires which he cannot sate. 5 Murder has the awful tendency To break the sacred law. But should he be punished For this tragic flaw? No! Punishment works not; 10 He needs reinforcement and aid To treat his behaviors, in order for His debt to society to be paid. For the benefit of order, And Murder's constitution, 15 I implore you to accept my plea And submit him to your institution. 61

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Medieval Cures “Where have you been?” Many bothersomely inquired, As if they had some right To in my business become mired. 5 “I've been in Venezuela With a barber and a hang nail. I was seeking medical attention Because my health was frail. I needed one experienced in 10 Phlebotomy and ritual bleedings. Leeches are great; just the Very bloody things I was needing. I feel better, drained, and jet Lagged (only a little bit.) 15 The barber's shave left my face Smooth; the hang nail mimics it.” 62

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma The Or igins of the Orthodox Church Vikings were not pagan, unless You consider Orthodox to be; Northmen were simply the precursors Of Roman Catholic heresy. 5 In retaliation To discrimination, Christendom was raided, Even Merry England was invaded. They stole from and hindered the church 10 Where books and valuables were kept. Then, they sailed to Greece, settled Their strict beliefs, and gently slept. 63

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma The World Will Get By He rolled over in bed When the siren's wailed And groaned as his sense Of motivating duty failed. 5 The superhero's not coming tonight; You'll have to rely on the police To battle the majestic fight 'Gainst organizedly random crime. He's tired of monotonously 10 Winning at his cost. But it's not greed alone for which His service was lost. True, he fought expensively To receive no aid in money, 15 But each encounter night after day Skirted Death, who is not funny. “I am no Messiah. Why Should I be a sacrifice?” He went to sleep and on a 20 Vacation. Thinks him, “This is nice.” 64

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Enlightenment “My grandparents suck Like an inhaling lung. They worship their ancestors And value me less than their dung. 5 Well, maybe I don't grow Mushrooms after it rains, But at least I don't Have bovine17 brains!” This Indian grew weary of 10 By family being neglected, Thus from the Hindu Camp he defected. He fried up all the cows, But the rest of them escaped. 15 Amidst his relatives he wolfed Down the beef while they gaped To see their belóved Into a cannibal turned. He spoke around a mouthful that he 20 Hoped it was ancestors he'd burned. 17 Bovine: cow 65

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Fatalist by Nature (Pacifist at Heart) The story no one tells is of Viking influence on two great men. The Norseman could do little for himself, But he changed John Calvin and WilliamPenn. 5 He was a fatalist by nature, All had been decided by fate. Thus he pillagéd the horse, raped The gold, and the women he ate. The Norsemen must participate 10 Honourably thus till the end, For Valhalla was the junction Where the brave's paths wend. But he doubted this one night And, to convince his turmoiled mind, 15 Carved a passage of the fixédness of Wyrd, or fate, and how time but does grind. This runic writing of fate Was left in Calvin's nation, The vehemence inspired formulation 20 Of his theory of Predestination. In England wrote the troubled Northman Instead of “a rapist was here” Of a peaceful life That transcended all fear. 25 Penn was of comfortable nobility, But he converted to a warless Quaker. His inner light, it seems, stemmed from A bit of futhark and its maker. He drank up pacifism 30 As Vikings mead thirstily. Penn found himself on a boat, Then in the land of the free. The Northman was as calm as The wild ocean that bears the name. 35 Penn and Calvin have rolled over; He continues to peacefully maim. 66

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma The Conquistador's Beard The virgins were sacrificed For fun and for pleasure. Moctezuma gazed over Tenochtitlan, Blinking at his leisure. 5 The nation was arrayed in The formation of victory; They'd exterminated the strangers, With the exception of two or three Trained in the art of surrender 10 And broken captivity. Their leader's beard was to be used In religious ceremony. The fool who'd tried to conquer The Aztecs was now dead18. 15 His body was mutilated, As was Cortez's head. After the defeat none Of his ilk would dare invade. The rumblings of a warlike people 20 Made a throbbing serenade. The Spaniards had come For Glory, God, and Gold; They'd met dishonour, their God, And the decaying mold. 25 The prisoners of doom Had the vengeance of ague. Smallpox to the Aztecs is Like in Europe the black plague. The existence of a nation 30 By smallpox was mended, Just as the world On their calendar ended. 18 The fool . . . dead: Cortez 67

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Stood Up I quickly sat down Upon hearing she had died. I was greatly stunned, But her mom had only cried. 5 I had never been stood up before, And tomorrow night was prom's dance. I had planned this night for months to Be one of exceeding romance. When I saw her in her casket 10 I spilled out the ways I felt, She rudely stared not at me When this deck of choice I dealt. I told her she could dance with me Or be planted the next day; 15 She voiced no assent or objection, So I took her anyway. “Does this mean we can't go to prom?” Some would brokenly say. One must be more forceful, though, 20 And seize the corpse and day. 68

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma A LongWinded Oversight, 12 Lines It's something of an hallow conviction, Only a weekend warrior's duty, To protect the trees while relaxing And listening to “Professor Booty19.” 5 Though they may scream about loggers, Poor owls, and lack of replanting, The halfheartedness of longwinded Speeches is truly known as ranting. An “they” truly about trees cared, 10 Then they'd prohibit homework— A teacher's insult to students. It upon Vast quantities of paper goes berserk. 19 Professor Booty: a song by the Beastie Boys from the LP Check Your Head. 69

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Gallantly Pr iceless Yes, I realize I am a sports Hero by many admired, Yet, it was another reason for Which events have thus transpired. 5 The ulterior motive wasn't fame, Women, or the violence granted In obscene amounts to an one Who has the world enchanted. Sadly, I am merely a cheap person 10 Blessed with time and dedication, And now no longer do I need Buy flowers. Subjugation To my indiscriminate command I Enforce upon bouquets thrown from the stands 15 In droves at each performance from Generously extravagant hands. My wife is thrilled, though She hardly this would say, Since constantly I bombard 20 Her with petals. “They're passé,” She whispers to me, presuming I always frequent a florist. Slowly in dance do we Shuffle slowly, back to wrist. 70

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Bitter Cloning, Tragic Mould The world will be a bitter Place, although much more fun, An I were the mould of Thought for everyone. 5 Since thought controls action, And action what you do, No one would be married or have the Audacity to say, “I love you.” Love is a foolish mirage—an illusion 10 More painful than a crippling reality. The most one would say is, “Great Body,” or, “You know, I like thee. “I love you” has given rise to more trouble For pleasure than there ever needed be. 15 Everyone would disregard those words And consider that discharge contemptuously. While running all would long to break a leg or be run Down by a vehicle of inconsiderate speed, As one could then escape the horrors of running, 20 As it might be an excuse coach would heed. 71

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma A Cool Dr ink The wooden oak slab squeaked On hinges welloiled As my hand's sebaciousness The molested hardwood soiled. 5 Thirsty, I the threshold crossed Into the bathroom's cloister. Behind the blackened screen could Be heard the crickets' boister. Cleanly brushing and flossing 10 Over the marble sink , Stood I musing at the skies Coloured no longer pink. With a fresh mouth freed Of odor and taste, 15 I could now savour water And its freshness not waste. Dampening the pump's shaft Where the sink should be, I welled up my desire by 20 Pumping the handle lustily. A cool stream unevenly flowed into A coopered bucket with metal bands. Quenching, with catharsis I drank from The large, iron ladle in my hands. 72

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Well, Have You? Have you paid the wages of Anarchy lately today? With warm smiles and pleasant chaos Hath thou brightened someone's day? 5 Have you with asphalt paved the way to lawlessness; Convinced the moon the sun was gray? Hath thou corrupted teenage toddlers and informed Parents to let them do as they may? Have you stood by actively while watching 10 The worn threads of society fray? Didst thou twist some airy words into sombre dismay when To neutrally hostile parties messages you did relay? If not, you've done nothing Deconstructive with your day, 15 If your debt to the Dark Ages you did not pay. 73

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Mommas Mommas, don't let Your babies grow up To be hitch hikers Or bikers or at all. 5 When as a child it seems That mommies don't let Children do things; Love makes and forces. But age goes by quickly 10 And rebellion is a given Force that constantly reminds Mothers that babies grow up. Yet, they may be incomplete, Possessing a purpose, yet 15 Having no way to accomplish this Onus sans a lift from another. Perhaps your baby grows Complete with the means, But is only able to drift 20 Aimlessly around life's roads. Mommas don't let them Grow up, smother them in love, Foster complexes, and Incapacitate their ambition. 74

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Criticisms and Bitterness Criticisms and bitterness issued From the intentless apothecary Whose herbs, he croaks, cannot Mend the ills of the fairy 5 Who dwells where, mischievously, He can torture my belly And cause the yellow bile to ooze. It's amazing, physiognomy. He tells me a cure is 10 To get with the barber's wife, For depressing stomach aches Can be treated with a knife. 75

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Apology to the Underappreciated As she did mourn and lament, His resting spirit was bent From the peace it ne'er would achieve. Sadly, a thought he did conceive 5 Caused him for mom to bereave, Since oft' she he'd needlessly grieved. Seldom'd he told her he loved her; Rarely of honor'd he defer. Supremely, for laboured child birth, 10 Which's filled with pain and lacked mirth, An apology he'd not sent, Thus he's at unrest in earth's dent. 76

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Chapter IV As Things Are As things are is seldom As things should be. My, God, my God, why Have they forsaken Thee? 5 If anyone should rule, Then it's the meek and snoring. Instead power often resides With the arrogantly boring. If anyone should do the 10 Forsaking, it should be God. He's tolerated far too much From those creations made from sod. 77

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma On Making Beds Why should the covers I Pull taut and wrinklefree? Why canst they not reside as Comfortable dungarees? 5 It matters not if the Eye is by mess appalled. Each morning making beds has Logical ration galled. Why should covers be smoothed, 10 An sleep will them perturb? Live by efficiency: Their rest never disturb. 78

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Nuclear Fiend Below the valence shells Where electrons take refuge, Is the emptiness and that Nuclear centrifuge20. 5 Only a lesser devil— Below the totem pole— I've sought vile promotion By inhabiting its soul To engineer its downfall, 10 That pathetic protoned putz. My benefits will grow as A raven from its guts. Hail me, the great destructor Of helpless mindless midgets 15 Who'd ne'er pick on larger things Or anyone named Brigitte. It is true pacifism— Killing that which cannot be Created or destroyed 20 But turned into energy. 20 Nuclear centrifuge: the nucleus, around which the electrons spin. 79

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Somewhat Free Verse on Socialism Communism would have been Much more enjoyable had It been achievable and Soundly founded not by an 5 Impoverished, tearyeyed, Impostor philosopher Who, hypocritically, Wholly depended upon The capitalistic funds 10 And rich patronage of his Aristocratic better. Though the drama of the cold War it provided; I am Forever slated to be 15 A quasisocialist. 80

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Cliché How odd! What a peculiar thing to say! What has happened to the world I knew? It's all gone cliché. 5 I know the words to that song, I wasn't born yesterday. Why, those lines are just rearranged, And it's all so passé. The lyrics in that song 10 Scream that “rock is dead.” Perhaps they should have been original, But they chose the overused instead. The words in that book Have all been used before, 15 I've read the same thing once and again; My black and blue eyes are sore once more. Is anything whatsoever new, Or has it all been done? True talent is to rephrase, 20 Because clichés are fun. 81

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Spangles Spangles sparkle in the crimson dew iridescent their light giving what's due 5 Sparkles spangle sole duty in life aesthetically there causing no strife Two types of people 10 these sparkles and spangles giving no more than their jingles and jangles. 82

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma He Who Said Never He who said never Was forever cursed; Blessed to endure What he loathed worst. 5 He who said hope Was led to despair, Crushed just that once, he's Never again to care. He who was brave 10 Was taught to fear; He was laid low By what he held dear. He who rejoiced Was led to great sorrow; 15 He was led to it again Upon waking the morrow. He who was aloof Was forced to share; But the wonders he disclosed 20 Made twisted minds stare. He who said one thing Meant quite another; He'll hit on your sister, And aim for your mother. 83

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Lacking Style or Era or Form We are uninventive And create nothing new; We've more important and Less taxing things to do 5 Than forge a trademark that's Symbolic of our times. It's well plagiarism of Forms is not counted a crime, Due to our present need of 10 Thoughtless, strict imitation. Poems and architecture And such (i.e. furniture) Show our sad, present theme: to Copy sans inspiration 15 The ancient styles wellused, While being content to not Have created an uniqueness by which We can be remembered by once we rot. 84

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma You've Created Now look ye upon The monsters you've created— People once normal Until they were hated. 5 You've every right Of them to be scared As you never once accosted Them or asked them how they fared. You scorned them earlier for 10 Being below your station; They were only wishing to fit in, Yet you drove them to isolation. Now, they may not wear name brand, But they wear the shades of death. 15 They weren't allowed to live to be your friends, So now they live to startle with each breath. Look upon your creations, Would a kind word have been too hard? A shame it is that when you acknowledge 20 Them, your soul isn't bruised and scarred. You're not as good as Dr. Frankenstein; He eventually felt remorse. But you're an uppity person; You always will be, of course. 85

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Everyone Is Changing Everyone is changing, And nothing's quite the same. Is there really a point To this life's game? 5 Are the alterations God's sick hoax? Does it thrill Him to change All we know about folks? Why is it no one could live 10 Up to my expectations? Their flaws and defects fill Me with exasperation. Has anyone else traded Friends for enemies? 15 When reflecting at night, Do they also feel like sleaze? It wasn't my fault; I meant no harm. But somehow I lost 20 My wit and her charm. And why is it that There's given less time? Prithee, why isn't that A crime? 86

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma No Controversy There were no gaming tables involved, no taunts About illegitimate sons of wenches; But in both elections were Present thieving legal grinches. 5 In 1824 a dynasty was begun With the election of Quincy, John Adam's grandson. In 2000 W., George Bush's son Was responsible for the completion of another one. Gore will probably feel robbed, 10 As did Andrew Jackson. But this kind of theft will Only serve to fuel their faction. They lost in the electoral college, But won the general election. 15 In four more years things will change; such is The democratic insurrection. Florida was frustrating and confusing With butterflies and pregnant, dimpled chads, Multiple and manual recounts, and 20 Intervention from Supreme Court lads. 7,000 votes in New York cost the Election for Cleveland and his runningmate; 500 odd worked against Lieberman, And Florida was the state. 25 The Florida Secretary of State Harris Took a firm Republican stance During the recounts and certification; Maybe she'll enjoy France. It's as black a thing as 30 Nixon and Kennedy; But then, even the dead should be able To vote in a country that is free. It's a shame there was no controversy Until after the votes had been cast. 35 There may be a new direct election amendment Proclaiming the electoral college's days have passed. 87

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma PsychoPhysiological Disorder Pain is a virus, or perhaps a Psychophysiological disorder That, when mentally inflicted, is oblivious To the psychephysical border. 5 Pain can be masked through Experience in early childhood And cultural perspective, Sufism, And other meditations could Provide a thick curtain to 10 Shelter from that harsh light. Yet this worldly illness oft' Attacks in the pitchest of nights. The only vaccination for pain Resides in and is paradise. 15 An eternity without affliction Might be considered nice. 88

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Warsaw, Romance Therein It's been rumoured Poles are dumb, As well that only fools fall in lust. Warsaw must be the capital Of love then, I trust. 5 Truthfully, that is the only Place wherein I have found Enjoyment at being confined In the cages of love's pound. It's all the same; lust 10 And love and romance. Who really needs a name? It' can't be all that vital An life is but a game Wherein one plays one's cards. 15 What's in Warsaw besides a communist Pact, Poles, and love one supposes? I'm not certain, but if I ever go I'll be sure to bring black roses. 89

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Cur Dogs sicken me, but I Have no allergies to fur. It's just a physical reaction To the traits of every cur. 5 Canines receive demandingly A massage everyday; The best they've done for me is run Their tongue over my skin and bray. While working they 10 Jostle my arm, Their pleasure comes at The task at hand's harm. Dogs are the self Centers of attention. 15 That I did this yesterday is cap Tured not by their powers of retention. Their love lust only ends when my Voice has the proper inflection. Procuring a soft pet rock is 20 A step in the right direction. 90

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Fame Fame seems like such an Unachievable delusion. Unrealized effort Formulates this conclusion. 5 Mortals desire Notoriety eternally, E'en if after the first fifteen minutes Their names are a jest permanently. The genetic desire for fame 10 Is a forgone conclusion; Folks will assay the Pantheon Till their brains have contusions. So try to write a book Or get on a game show. 15 But it's all just a waste of The historians' time, you know. 91

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Consensual Fornications Time is an annoying rapist; The sun's long since taken the skies To force its day upon you When you wish not to arise. 5 Just let me rest; despoil Me at a later time. If you [Time] only took a Break , it'd be more sublime. If you knew how to stop, or 10 Your fornications went slower, I might call it consensual And smile rather than glower. 92

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Portraying Disrespect: an American Scene It's hanging in a museum there, And everybody's got a print21. They can't rest soundly at night Without carefully studying it. 5 Reminders are everywhere, in schools And bars and the walls of bus stations. Like the leaden plumbing of Rome, It is the pride of the nation. But what I cannot understand is the 10 Fascination with it. As the Mona Lisa, A big to do is made over not much; Bricks built the pyramids of Giza! In the corner is a mother By children being flogged. 15 A group's smoking around a runner Who has obviously just jogged. Other details include graffiti And that awful movie Titanic. There's some abandoned elderly, 20 And a riot filled with panic. 21 Print: a facsimile copy of a painting 93

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Gnashing Hurt Sheol is more civilized Than my pity town; This is evidenced by The roads traveled down 5 To reach the destinations that Even the pure traverse. But Sheol must have the best Road system in the universe, As it's paved with good intentions. In 10 This proximity it's often dirt; It would almost be worth an Eternity of gnashing hurt To travel the subtle subterranean Ways where sins and inhibitions are freed. 15 Sheol's roads are Romanesque; It's where all paths lead. 94

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Lust Is in Desire Lust is in desire? I never would have thought It was the pronged attack Of lust and desire I fought 5 When on sundry occasions My feelings I did court When I vehemently yearned for Someone, or something of that sort. Lust is a great evil, albeit 10 It keeps some relationships alive. I suppose I'll have to quit desiring Things whilst I yet survive. 95

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Bryant Jennings In that former dark age22, life is Considered simply primitive In comparison to the ages Of presence in which we live. 5 But did Horsa and Hengest and their Transcendental posterity find A lack of interest concerning The fruits of the mind? Was publication easier in AngloSaxon times, 10 Or was creation slowed by the lack of rhymes? Did the author have to teach his tales To the scop and hope that he not fails In its musical recital with clever caesuras and kennings? Publication is difficult in these days of Bryant Jennings23. 22 Dark age: AngloSaxon England was once considered a dark age 23 Bryant Jennings: an NBC news anchor 96

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma A Quiz Here is a quiz With one result: To loosely test If you're in a cult. 5 There's a charismatic Leader like Hitler or an ape Who gives whizzing radical commands Whilst idly you obediently gape Unable to fathom the 10 Evil and false witnéss That one day may cause you or Acquaintant family24 distress. This leader makes decisively Influential choices that 15 Control your life and how You live and all of that. Often there's a sacrifice Of life or wants of temptation. Cults willing, none of you failed 20 This basic examination. 24 Acquaintant family: the assorted collection of friends and acquaintances and chancely met strangers 97

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Oh Fudge Of fudge, you give me a headache With your concentrated power. I feel as though I've hastily Consumed frozen ice cream an hour. 5 Your blackness is “forbidden” To those who cannot say “taboo.” After a small sampling, your Potency makes many think “Morbleu25.” And though I know better when 10 I see you layered in parfait, I seem to forget the harm And think , 'What the hey!' 25 Morbleu: a French oath 98

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Sickening Some things are obviously sickening, Such as the music my sister listens to. Others are feet, diapers, gasoline, and glue. There are a number of 5 Things that cause me disease. Botulism is one if present In bloated cans of green peas. My fragile immunity is not Fond of miscreants like fungal yeast. 10 Its true love also is not The flukes and worms of raw beast. I once knew a pig that loved me Until it left me with trichinosis. I thought it just a broken heart, but my 15 Doctor informed me of his prognosis. Microorganisms such as bacteria Give oxygen and infection. Currently the living dead zombie viri Intrude and fight rejection. 99

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Cinema Trivial If it were a movie, I'd know the ending After a few minutes of Examination spending 5 To analyze weak characters Caught up in previewed26 plots. Many times poor development Renders actors into lifeless bots. But life is no commercial flick; it's 10 Believed to be infinitely more complex, Just as if one fluent in binary Was required to be literate in hex. The actors feign a million feelings believably And convey the illusion of the first time. 15 The audience enrapturédly loves A few and calls the antagonists slime. Life's director must be commended; It is such a fantastic screenplay. But the spoiler I keep asking is, 20 “Will it all end as I wish someday?” 26 previewed: seen before 100

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Dark Blue Pr ide The Navy contains forces On land, in air, on sea. It doesn't seem like America Needs the other branches, to me. 5 The Navy has carriers, Blue Angels, and more planes. Do we need the Air Force, an they can't Land upon ships in condensed rain27? The Army could be forgotten— 10 The Navy has the Marines. I'll stop short before I rhyme new MOSes28 for GI's with “latrines.” 27 Condensed rain: oceans and seas 28 MOSes: military occupational specialties; jobs 101

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Bagels (Lenders) The Mafia only lends money Because they like to beat Up the wretchéd debtors Who cannot monetarily meet 5 The deadline set for pricey terms, And limbs begin to disappear Or be broken into shards by Hick'ry and tack hammers quite dear To the henchmen and goons 10 Who must know they can't pay, But continue to loan since They love to pain and slay. 102

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Bee Ess My biggest gripe with literature Teachers all students seem to share. We dislike searching for What often is not there. 5 It's sickening, really, to treat a Passage as more than literal And fabricate themes and symbolism To authority's wishes fulfill. All hasty interpretations can be 10 Defended, even though they may be lies. Literature is not as fun when It has been over analyzed By teachers who force their students to Cognitively misconstrue with eyes29. 29 Cognitively. . . eyes: read and just make up interpretations. 103

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Face in Curtains Biographies are not as much a waste of Time as they are a waste of the being Whose earlier memories, impressions, and Secrets have been for quite some time fleeing. 5 If bothered to be rendered, mine Would resemble my face in a drape Peering through with glasses Mounted cockeyed, mouth agape. It would be as if it were 10 Woven to give impression; Narrated to illustrate My life's events' succession. Accurate could it not be, for Too much has already been lost. 15 And, though I would not be misunderstood, There are some incidents I'd prefer tossed. 104

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Chapter V Eye of the Beholder Beauty's in the eyes of the beholder, But mine have astigmatism. This might explain why, personally, all these “Pretty girls” have no beauty in 'em. 5 In mine eyes there is detected A different kind of charm That is found, oddly enough, In those to whom none swarm. Yea, these girls that I find 10 Attractive, others disdain. They say that those have Nothing to make them vain. It seems I'm the only one to Claim the idols bland 15 And exalt the less worshipped On the other hand. Girls to whom I proclaim To that they are pretty Receive not my praise 20 Merely due to pity. I do indeed find them Candy for the eyes. Verily, I'm too lazy and unfeeling To fabricate kindhearted lies. 25 Thus, it is the truth, In my perception, That I speak when I Compliment perfection. Perhaps it is only that I've grown 30 Weary of the same old scenery, And these vixens no one's ever Considered are more pleasing to me. So what if I like not the narcissistic? It's mostly their attitudes; 105

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma 35 I'd rather have a politely nice Girl than one that is rude. Beauties seem to change over Time: some girls begin to wane, The overlooked wax better, 40 And a handful never change. Mine eyes are odd, they Perceive in a different way; This isn't just with beauty, It's with everything each day. 106

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma When You've Slept When you've slept upon your Arm and it has gone limp And lost all of its blood Like a big city pimp, 5 It may have decided Not to move anymore And to just flop around Like a fish on the shore. To keep it from being as a stone 10 Cold dead bigcity fishmonger30, Simply do not sleep Upon your arm any longer. 30 fishmonger: Shakespearean term for a pimp 107

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Bitterness Ruins Bitterness ruins like in Canada Does the American acid rain, Etching out stone from Bastions strong and vain, 5 Leaving only an pockéd shell that From afar easily does deceive The unsuspecting observer that the stronghold's As mighty as any he did ever perceive. However, truth be told, as it one day 10 Must, it would crumble without a touch From a foreign assault. Bitterness Erodes and can leave any as such. 108

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Humility Children are not humble; they are Stubborn and amoral, Just as the Morays and Clownfish in the reefs of coral 5 That prey upon their neighbors As starving Saxons at a feast. If I were humble as a child, I'd throw tantrums at a priest. I do wish pride could be cast away like 10 A child's food when they've been excited. Then, the pangs of injury would Be not felt when I am slighted. 109

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Long, Narratively Sporadic Poems Fifty million words is The poem of last night, Should I begin to try To capture the dream's might. 5 Blinded there as I was, Visually did I gaze 'Pon artificial realism There in sleep's stupoured daze, Which, when the mind's awake, 10 Ceases not to amaze. The longest and grandest Of epics one mayst recite, Dreams seem to be intertwined With day's fortunes and plight. 15 How many words will fill a Line in hexameter verse? A picture needs a thousand Words to describe it at worst. Endless the pictures rendered 20 In three dimensional planes; The mind's bard recreates Storied dreams with great pains. 110

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Br inging on Contention “Dear matron, that was A finelyspitted beast That you carved up And served for this feast 5 That was sensually fulfilling, After the first three helpings, at least. Kindly direct me, good ma'am, To an appeasing chair. It would be kind service if an 10 Book or solitude may be found there To aid Morpheus in his quest to Provide solacing slumber free of despair. Oh, aye, 'tis the magnificence of an Inn—the bringing on of contention.31 15 For happiness results from gorging, Which is followed by sleep's detention. Retention of this complacence cannot Be had. The suggestion? Repetition.” 31 contention: happiness, not fighting 111

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Prof itable Those must be profitable people; They're heavily in the black. In fact, they resemble ninjas On the verge of an attack. 5 They aren't in the red Cars, which is wise; Insurance and tags for candy Apple tower into the skies. Perhaps you should ask these 10 Goths how they became so rich That they choose to flaunt their finances With apparel's every stitch. 112

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Decaffeinated Blue There was no design Which I could ascertain. The needlework wasn't intricate; The pattern was uniformly plain. 5 The fabric was a dully faded, Washed out, decaffeinated blue. It had no vibrance or vitality Or spirit like you. The short sleeves were stitched on 10 Mechanically, it was a prefab. Why would someone wear a dress That pained by being intensely drab. 113

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma The Steel Decanter It had no surgical glint or Gleam, yet it was made of steel. Fingering the handle and picking it Up, I ruled it had a pleasant feel. 5 It had a leaden weight, like The conscience of a spider32. But mugs with bulky solidness Are the type that I prefer. Peering over the decanter's rim, it 10 Was noted to be pent up and empty Like the thoughts called the heart of one In immature emotional slavery. 32 Spider: not just an animal, but also a weak and conspirative mortal. 114

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Nylon Pant He breathed with a nylon pant at The termination of his run. His breathing alone was enough To illustrate he'd not had fun. 5 It was stretchy and elastic; His rasping lungs, changing in size, Sounded as if they'd been covered in Pantyhose as some sort of prize. Strong as nylon rope, the diaphragm 10 Held his forceful breathings together. From the sound of his honkings, He'd been under the weather. Artificial it was overall, A scene that was manmade; 15 He seemed to delight in weakness And of real fibres be afraid. 115

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Twos Tired of them saying “mine” or Refusing to take an order? Don't worry anymore for there's a Cure for this twoyear old disorder. 5 It is a twostep process Which requires equilibrium. In stage one the child must Be spun round like a plum. Cradled in your arms, spin them 10 Up and down until dizzy. Convince them they're on a roller coaster ride, Whilst the sobriety of their mind's busy. Stage two begins by laying them on a Couch, rubbing their hair until frizzy. 15 Then, quickly tickle feet and ribs And such to arouse laughter. Wait, this is only a treatment; They'll still be two after. 116

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Surreal Killer Breaking her neck in vicious glee, Maniac'ly laughing as it slays The gratuitous prostitute Who visits when the eyes do glaze 5 In the still awareness of night With spirits departing with day's Break , as they cannot remain Snuggled placably as where she lays, Due to torture's nocturnal law 10 Mandated for their life's forays. But in a jealous rage A cruél serving page Rids me of her each night When first there shows light 15 By taking the life of the surreal Dream sans asking how I feel [Comfortably complete at rest Upon her changing breast.] 117

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Better Vision Vision has not been Distinct and clear always; It has taken millennia to Reach the perception of today. 5 With all of these advances, What more can we not see? And is it by the intentions Of God or flaws of humanity? It took a fruit that was taboo 10 For humans to past ignorance view And realize it was in Innocence They did nakédly prance. God expanded it after a flood To see a water droplet prism. 15 As Man observed from the mud, At fortyfive degrees was a rainbow. More recently came spectacles, Which have since spawned contacts, I don't like putting my finger 20 Near my eyes. That's just the facts. 118

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Chapter VI Urea Urine is like my love For you—relatively pure. It may have some contaminants, But their numbers are few. 5 I try to hold it in, But my love for you doth flow Like words from a poet's pen When the muses have inspired. When for a while it's been unrelieved, 10 It refuses to stop. It eventually starts overflowing, Presenting some need for a mop. 119

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Elf Thou art mine elf, Thou magical vixen. Upon my devious heart, Magic thou art fixing. 5 Earthcoloréd strands Of worldly beauty Fall their length, 'tis Their enchanting duty. Thy starryeyed orbs 10 Laugh at the night, Sparkling to my heart A much brighter light. Thou must be a creature That was of magic made, 15 For magical is thy call To my heart that won't fade. If weak thou becomest When parted from thy tree, How much weaker am I 20 When closer to thee? 120

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Odd Sensation Have you, My Lady, ever had Thine nails trimmed to thy tips? I prithee do not bite them off; Leave sweeter things to thy lips. 5 But having the nails newly cut And smoothed beyond a snagless care, Remember thee the odd sensation Of washing thy hair? The futileness leaving one wanting more, 10 Is what love has in store. 121

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Venice Gondola paddle dipping swooning my heart a love song crooning Iridescent waves 5 sparkle imitating your eye matches it effects a sigh Gloaming budding the higher shades of purples and pinks I'm in love with you methinks 10 Gondola swaying like the citadel of my soul break open my heart and proffer it you whole Starlight shimmers find me glancing 15 toward you whom is my heart romancing Circlet nocturnal sheds its pallid light your luminescence trembles my heart with might Doubly alone 20 our loves do we share of no one else are we aware Slapping gently riding these waves of wonder sunlight rips the night asunder 122

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Vegetable Love My love is a vegetable love Incapacitating my thought When you draw near. My love is a vegetable love 5 I forget this world When you are here My love is a vegetable love I have no worries when You whisper in my ear 10 My love is a vegetable love You are my life support, My Darling Dear 123

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Adam's Rib The fifth day commenced With Adam's creation. After a while he grew weary Of his lonesome situation. 5 Man was left to Name and command The creatures of creation As his own personal nation. Whilst one may speak to animals, 10 They cannot reply back to you. Adam noticed this deficiency; God noted this, too. During sleep a rib was removed To create the first female. 15 Adam could feel this completion As if it were Braille. Now because of this rib Removed from his chest, Man only feels complete with 20 What was completed during rest33. 33 What. . . rest: woman 124

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Worldly the cluck and clatter of this world this world around me doesn't matter 5 i want to be tight in your arms and feel the joy joyously snared in your charms led to the slaughter 10 the slaughter is me bend your head and slaughter me i thought i had lost you i thought that i knew 15 but i hadn't lost you that's shortly due lost in your love love lost with you 125

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Waylay Waylay the thought Waylay the mind Leave it, leave it All behind 5 Part of the dream Part of what's real; Do not suppress What you feel. Reality is 10 A hoax, a ruse. Take this message Prepare the news. Tell her I love her, Tell her I care, 15 Tell her, tell her I'll always be there. Silently watching Woods, hollows, and dales Stalking unseen 20 Wherever the wind blows her sails Reach out and touch, Reach out and feel, Shudder and tremble; I am real. 126

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Without the Words We are everything Without the words. To speak them Would profane 5 And destroy Our sacred world. A ring is given In silence Recognition taken. 10 A dance is shared In silent thoughts. The only sound Is that of tongues Idly flapping to 15 Distract what we both feel To hide it. What would everyone Think? 127

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Cold Sins Woman, I love thee but Not thy hypothermic toes; Strike me not with them Till their warmth grows. 5 With you I am intact; Apart a mangled wreck. Oft' I wonder which state is best with Thy chilled fingers placed upon my neck. Kiss me on my scratchy chin; 10 Envelope me in your limbs. But only after they confess And make penance for their cold sins. 128

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Digestive Processes There is no contempt in mine Action to on you spit. I only wish to consume thine Skin, savour, and digest it. 5 I long to masticate34 on Your sarcus35, bones, and soule; Transform you into a bolus36; And swallow you down whole. Inside me will be your love, 10 Your essence, and your spirit. I'll save you from stomach juices. Peristalsis37, do not fear it. You could help me grow; Use my cells as a dorm. 15 You'd be stronger than ever In your concentrated form. 34 masticate: chew 35 Sarcus: flesh 36 Bolus: a ball of mush which food is formed into before it swallowed 37 Peristalsis: muscular contractions which force food through the digestive system 129

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma An Idyll Goddess Whom One Cannot Help But to Revere I should be able To write volumes for you, Not just a trifling Poem or two 5 Which cannot reveal What you've meant to me. You are the greatest Event in history. How could I possibly think of aught 10 Else when you are far or near; You are my idyll goddess whom I cannot help but to revere. I would38 to praise your glory And sing you a million songs. 15 But, when would I have the spare time, When it is to you whom all of me belongs? 38 Would: wish 130

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Venice Gondola paddle dipping swooning my heart a love song crooning Iridescent waves 5 sparkle imitating your eye matches it effects a sigh Gloaming budding the higher shades of purples and pinks I'm in love with you methinks 10 Gondola swaying like the citadel of my soul break open my heart and proffer it you whole Starlight shimmers find me glancing 15 toward you whom is my heart romancing Circlet nocturnal sheds its pallid light your luminescence trembles my heart with might Doubly alone 20 our loves do we share of no one else are we aware Slapping gently riding these waves of wonder sunlight rips the night asunder 131

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma S. Mooching I only kissed her To make her shush, But I continued Silence in no rush 5 To hear or to see Her crimson blush. We had communion Past when we couldn't breathe, But we were at our loom 10 Learning to intricately weave. An onlooker would've thought Us a human wreathe; If we'd separated forcefully Our chests would heave. 15 Like this naught matteréd Besides the pure elation, Not even when we died Of breathless suffocation. Onward we kissed 20 Ignoring salvation, Smooching blissfully Eternity's duration; I'd no intentions of hearing Her whining frustration. 132

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Chapter VII To You Sit I melancholy here all alone In a depressed, apathetic mind zone39. Sadly, I have nothing better to do Than to be insignificant to you. 5 When I think of earth's each twisted wonder That cannot help but easily depress, Think I of ye with such unmatched success To convince me it is only blunder. Neither insp'ration nor jubilation 10 Art thou, but perhaps an condemnation To those emotions of mine wellbeloved. Nevertheless, will I have anon40 shoved Your resemblance into verbosity Or some other tripe that purges glee. 39 Mind zone: a frame of mind; comparable to a time zone 40 Anon: soon 133

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Nothings Naught against thy complexion, lighten up; The world overfills the foolish's cup. I've noted your sparing moderation In all things excepting consternation 5 Of actions and speech some count as pleasure. Frilless and wise, you're ne'er found at leisure. Indeed, though the world's riches pass you by, You're an attentive sentry and would try To force others to respect your wishes. 10 In short, like the height of dwarven dishes, Others must curb what they'd normally say Or watch thine holy temper like wires fray. I wish I could so stupidly believe And be just as you: hostilely naïve. 134

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Shour Drapes Nakédly attired with a drapery, Does your shower curtain of sullenness Shield from the eyes of mortal knavery? You stand ankledeep in a flooded mess, 5 Which could be symbolic for many nouns41, Though meant as emotions and peers as42 clowns. It deflects and retains wat'ry feelings Whose loss, like heat, would send senses reeling. Its sable gives a mood of appearance 10 Whilst shelt'ring from any outside advance. When wrinkled ye part the curtain of frowns, Will ye don the doffed one of the two gowns And be the innocent maiden before Or one much wiser and happier more? 41 Nouns: person, place, thing, idea 42 As: that are 135

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Ashore Albeit, I know you could never sin, Since perfection comes without from within. It touches ev'ry aspect of your form— The round eyes your golden face does adorn, 5 Thy blemishless skin 'neath which you take dorm, Your ears, and how your hair is shorn. To gaze upon your form does me distress; Even reverent glances must transgress. What a radiant goddess graces earth! 10 How you have mortal men much affrighted! We scurry lest defects should be sighted, Which'd afterwards make us e'er curse birth. Prithee, what is it like within your core, Since countenance's where weak wash ashore? 136

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Golden Tips I'm watching thy fingers glow in the light An orangish shade, which is weird to my sight. And, though you are pure and full of His might, Within the recesses43 you are as night44. 5 Sadly, I've realized romance is hopeless. I'm leaving shortly for obligation, And it would only destructively stress The living mem'ry of unsep'ration. Ergo, I'll try to never speak those words 10 Which pain by being loathsomely absurd. Woe for my guiltéd conscience should I daze With the utt'rance misplaced of Satan's phrase “I love you.” Gracious! How those words do goad! You sound sexy when raspy as a toad. . . 43 Recesses: interior of the structure 44 As night: coated in dark shadows 137

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Tripping Up Up am I tripping and in love falling With thy angelic frustration. Of course, Thou dost know that, though thine hair is sprawling Around thine shoulders, I do it45 by force— 5 Which easily categorizes thee. Gladly upon myself do I impose The vain desire to suffer your love's throes; I'm no idiot to wish to be free. After all, it is the proper manner 10 To fall for love, as autumn is the best, And winter pains loving with death's behest. One canst not purchase beads from a tanner46. I'm wont for casual, chilled affection After summer's heated misdirections. 45 It: fall in love 46 One canst. . . tanner: you've got to do things correctly, properly, and orderly. 138

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma To Differ For me to feel not as the others do Would require me to fall in love with you, For I doubt that this emotion any Mortal for you possesses. Not many 5 Humanoids [they're devoid of a heart] attain This fickle passion, but, instead, refrain And partake of the constancy of Lust, Which needs not a name, commitment, or trust. Though some men would like in lesser degrees, 10 It's not countable as love when from these, Since love's unconditional and complete Surrender. None love you, for some like heat; Your frigid love would be warm like the burn Of ice too long grasped only, I discern. 139

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Olivia It is a simple word meaning so much That when whispered it feels like your soft touch Racing ghastly across mine goosefleshed neck , Immigrating across mine chillbumped neck. 5 My heart is emotionally idle; It only pumps my coursing blood. Idyll Are you not, but I could live lazily Ere of aft47 of ye, though days crazily Dash themselves to exhaustion while we rest 10 In the thoughtless repetition of zest— Laden utterances that race the heart. And like wings beating at a troubled dart48, I fall to rise not and play a mad game. It says everything49. O, what an wonderful name! 47 Ere or aft: before or behind 48 Dart: a thin, arrowlike shaft hurled at a corkboard bullseye 49 Everything: I love you 140

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Olive I fancy you're something of an olive, And, though those branches mayst be by a dove Bourne, there is none superior to thee And none higher, though thou be from a tree50. 5 Much of that color is your complexion Naturally, with tanning's neglection. Voluptuous, you're nicely pump and round, Though not as most portly fellows I've found. You've no need of envy; should you be green, 10 It's only because there's much you've not seen. It's well you're not black51; it's such a sweet taste. Green bitterness prevents meaningless haste. You must be unpitted [you have a heart.] An onion you'd be, knew I where to start. 50 Thou. . . tree: olives grow on trees 51 Black: a black olive 141

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Onion Your silence speaks volumes, though it's turned down. What are you hiding behind each cold frown? It's distressing that you're multiply layered, For now to onions can you be compared. 5 In each action and thought are endless more, Which serves to masquerade your meaning's core. You're planted beneath, where you'd not be found, Although your purity's not with dirt bound. Surely all onions must thrive in the rain, 10 For you bring tears I cannot explain. Be they for joy? Like nature's onion shell You've many true colours; you are female. You're the season52 of a meaningful life; Joy's blandly tasteless, comes it not with strife. 52 Season: spice 142

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Weakening It's inevitable, something I knew Would occur from falling in love with you. I decided to fall for boredom's sake; Like leaves I'm at the mercy of a rake. 5 But how long until I soften to you, And will guilty time stretch forth and accrue The cursed evidence sufficient enough To prove that my handlings of you're less rough Than ere a simple exploit53 was taken 10 That has reason from my mind quite shaken? A trifling thought of you celebrating Was enough to set my mind gyrating. I'd love to act as friends and as before, But I must soften to you. It's my chore. 53 Simple exploit: falling in love 143

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Vanguard I cannot stand up for and protect you Only because I do not know how to. Should I lampoon the ignorant of you Or throttle with harsh words chosen to blue? 5 How should I at all for you intervene Without creating a suspicious scene? I wish not earth to know whom I favour54; Embarrassment's not a thing I savour. Only awkward can I presently be, 10 As always, should I try to defend thee. Thus, when your actions everyone mistakes, I must swallow silence, though my tongue quakes. The question is now how would you react? I've seen you wrothly moved and lacking tact. 54 Favour: like 144

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Entitlements As discussed, you're in no need of a tan, Albeit you have no fear of burning. Some might delight in calling you a witch, But it shows massive flaws in their learning, 5 Which was probably stopped or ne'er received. But don't worry of me, I'm a big fan. Thus, ergo, I am blind to any glitch Which you can't have. Does this make you relieved? I feel you're proper, and this I don't feign: 10 Perfection like you's entitled to deign. Why can't they look into your eyes unblue And drown in the cold depths and catch the flu? What right do they have to feel your equal, For you are unique and have no sequel?! 145

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Fleece Fleece, it becomes you and your colour foils. I would you were a sheep; it'd end toils Involved with labouring for affection— A burning acid worse than infection. 5 An a sheep you were, you'd be led with ease Astray or home or wherever my knees' Bendings might take us in abandon's care. Have you ever wondered what it's like there Past the mundane barnyard you reside in 10 Somewhere on the distant horizon? Should mindless you rest at a burbling brook , Would you obey the nudgings of a crook? Though you oft' wear fleece, it's not gold but white, And purity hinders the fun of night. 146

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Unrestrainéd Passion Prevents Clear Thought I am always bummed when I'm down and out, And my prickly pride is peeved when I pout; But your presence's sight e'er helps me out, Because I'm an insignificant lout. 5 Though you aren't blind, sin you cannot see; You aid through innocence passionately Guarded which verily doth amuse me. I'm thankful for what you can never be. One can never know what one does not learn; 10 Fire absent from matter can never burn. I would love you not, had you not taught me: Passion'd be meaningless, an it were free. Note symbolism in this example: Sinful night, me, finds moonlight ample. 147

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Addiction on the Mind Oh, I could easily get over you, I think , if I but ever wanted to. This differs from, though I would not take bets, Those addicted to drugs and cigarettes. 5 But why would I force myself to forsake Love, when it will be slayne, as if with a stake. Alack , Time is the great vanquisher. Friends Oft' arise matured to find friendship ends With silent separation and moving 10 Of houses or desires. It's behooving To enjoy Love's passing transience, Though this is not realized by the less dense. My, I'm fond of how your eyes bug with style, But I'm more addicted to your rare smile. 148

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Expected How odd to see you in attention bask. Like kelp in whale maws or a sunlit cask55, Some destruction your image will accrue. What a pity you act as some girls do; 5 I'd had such high expectations of ye. I cry inside, though I smile to you see Effervescent, feminine, flirty. True Stoicism's why I had rather loved you, But, though a loved's no longer as once deemed, 10 I'd been a fool to believe all's as seemed. In preparation for the imminent Day, I have thought about what my love's meant: You're like an old me, ergo ye must change, And your actions. . . well, love does oft' derange. 55 A sunlit cask: a cask of some brew left out in the hot sun and not down in a cellar somewhere. 149

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Volve Change anymore than you've already done, And I'll know catastrophe has begun. It would be as if a museum caught fire Which held Egypt's artifacts of each sire. 5 The building and values within gone Would be trifling, cease you to be your own. You've been perfect since you I have but seen That first occasion when I truly saw Your fig'rative innards and not the sheen 10 Of chilled beauty, which does equally awe. Change you, how could it be for the better? You are perfect; water can't get wetter. I would have you in a preserved state With your dark tresses falling from your pate. 150

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Groggy Mumblings My turmoiled conscience could I not rest till, Perched crookedly upon your window sill, Where I shan't stay long but guiltily act Uncouthly in desperate need of fact, 5 From the amorphous56 I would creep to where I could hear your soft breathings, see your hair In the silverwhite of pallid moonlight. Whispering softly, as sneaking teens might, Into your ears my words I would query 10 And of your response I would be wary For the hoped response of your earnest stance On topics such as I and on romance. Hopefully in sleep you'd reply without Inhibitions and clear up what I doubt. 56 Amorphous: glass is an amorphous solid 151

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma 1280x1024x32bpp Sigh. Even though I verily doth say That I wish for thy joy in ev'ry way, There's but one reason that you slip away From mine impotent power on this day. 5 If I can't persuade a goddess, why pray? It would only show how weak I truly Am should I protest and be unruly In this sorrowed parting and genuinely Display the emotion man's not known for57. 10 Would to you I could seem a piggish boar58 And keep magic with me forevermore. I can't stop you going where your will's sent, Since I'm worthless as the Council of Trent59. Perhaps you'll flourish with one different. 57 Man's. . . for: tenderness and crying 58 Piggish boar: if I were stingy and chauvinistic, I'm certain that you would love me. 59 Council of Trent: committee that convened to correct the corruption of the Catholic church and hopefully nip Protestantism in the bud. 152

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Demanotation 60 But what in love's incapacitation Know I for madness's jubilation? For you I suffer decapitation61. Thus, canst thou hold irrationality 5 Against me 'sif 'twere some legality? You said I'd a weird personality 'Pon the primary occurrence we met, As destined by the paths long ago set. Know I little of propriety, fret 10 Not, for I intend to worship in mind, Where all's as can be wished and e'en you're kind And for undue charges I am not fined. I love ye more'n could e'er be requited62. To love you a crime, I'd be indicted. 60 Demanotation: a contrived term for cutting off the hand, much like decapitation means to remove the head 61 For you. . . decapitation: I've lost my head for you 62 I love you. . . requited: I love you more than you could ever love me 153

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Cur iae It would take a Supreme Court ruling to Interpret the odd love I feel for you. But would I think it just when it is through? After all, should it63 have trouble with the 5 Pursuit of defining obscenity64, Then I must question its authority To tell I, a lover!, what love is. I Say love's more fleeting and grand65; should it66 try To capture love in mundane words, I'd sigh 10 To see it67 with the abstract68 waste its time And send the good children69 to weigh a crime Or some such small thing and love in my prime. What wisdom's made me expert in love's might? Only the first and all subsequent sights70. 63 It: the Supreme Court 64 Should it. . . obscenity: Supreme Court Justices have been unable to define profanity and obscenity, but just say, “I know it when I see it.” 65 More fleeting and grand: than obscenity, or the Supreme Court if you prefer. 66 It: the Supreme Court 67 It: the Court 68 Abstract: love is an abstract idea 69 Good children: the Supreme Court Justices 70 Only the first. . . sights: of you 154

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Moors Utopia's nowhere71 was newly found Where you trod, as it is hallowéd ground. Yea, there do the lilies and violets spring Into beauty as a poetic thing! 5 “My Goddess, ye art perfect!” Angels sing, Who worship with voice as bird on the wing. A whole civilization could be built 'Round the holy waters your eyes have spilt, Since 'round rivers are low ones72 constructed. 10 Gorgeous grace that realm will have seducted73. Rejoicing, they'd worship you as their queen. You're grand, they're base, and there's naught in between. The multitudes would give their lives for you; They'd wish there was something more they could do. 71 Utopia's nowhere: utopia means nowhere 72 Low ones: these unimportant, earthly civilizations 73 Seducted: abducted through seduction 155

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Pebbles Said a hot collection of vibrant gas Loosely collected, a nebulant lass, Via the colours of her cloudy eye The question 'ternal, “How do you love I?” 5 To the hotplasmaed star who would her woo. “Well beyond the wildest ration and true; Almost as much as those two humans do,” Replied he as he pointed with a flare To the mortals at which the stars do stare 10 For their radiance of love which e'er grew And like a supernova lit the sky In awe. The noble star meant you and I, But stars are worthless pebbles, like the moon. I can only value seeing you soon. 156

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Sri Lanka And the nebula of colours twisted Spake to the star whom for her love listed, And with logic sensibly insisted That the pow'r of our love they could ne'er match. 5 It'd be impossible as to catch A shooting star as love as we two do; Theirs would die when existence desisted. The red giant took this not as offense, For love's been reputed to make all dense, 10 And there are some it's e'en made go insane. She laughed as a child and questioned again, For one should e'er question the depths of love, Even should one live in the stars above. Such coquettish makes it a pleasant brew. 157

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Chapter VIII All My Friends All my friends are criminals; They're gonna catch us all one day And take us off to prison Far, far, far away. All my friends are in a cult; They worship goat and slaughter lamb. I'll miss them all after today Once they've jumped off Hoover Dam. One of my friends is Fifi, 10 She's plastic and belongs to another friend. She may not be that tall, But she lives to show it all, And she's shown it all off before. All of these voices are in my head, 15 They make me do very bad things; And honest officer that's why I'm nude, 'Cause I was listening to that streaker dude. 158

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma To the Dearly Regarded I may not have much Of a soul left, But it is mine to keep. Bugger off you wicked 5 Beast, and let me sleep. Some tell you to get behind; You lead others on a leash. Personally, stand where you want, Just let me have some peace. 10 Did you honestly think that I'd be snared by your offer? I'm in enough trouble on my own; I need not the traps you proffer. 159

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Golden The hue and shade of your Hair is that of violence74. It would to rob me of All of my little sense. 5 The length of those lustrous Locks flog and flay your back. The thought I can't apprehend's of How you endure such an attack. I've tried hard in nothings75 10 To capture that suspect. Though I'd braid it hand cuffs, it Would escape for my neglect. It tortures me because in many Respects I am never to have it; 15 The eagle76 of a peaceful life Has upon my window sill lit. Violence is golden in nature, An element of seventy Nine protons men fight and die over 20 Rather idiotically. Fie on blasted gold! It's The false idol of an Avarant religion Practiced by mortal man. 74 Hue. . . violence: “Violence is golden,” something I've heard not only from John Fogerty's album Eye of the Zombie. 75 Nothings: whispering sweetnothings 76 The eagle: chosen because it is symbolic of fierce upstarts and such 160

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma You So Mean You so mean I think I'm in love, Your very presence makes Me see the stars above. 5 No wait, that was a slap; I deserved it, I suppose. Each time I stare into Those ice floes Of your eyes where 10 Polar bears don't creep. . . The sun glows brighter when You close them for sleep. You become a different shade of beauty Depending on how you position your hair. 15 I would elaborate further, but I Don't wish to get scratched anywhere. 161

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Nice in a New Year's Kind of Way You are so nice In your way That is best expressed With New Year's Day 5 Moreso than any Other set holiday. You are nice to have And to celebrate, Although I wonder 10 Sometimes, as of late. You are nice to admire For beauty, temper, and awe As on New Year's when I saw The colourful works of fire. 15 You are nice upon occasion, Such as the rare one mentioned here. But then no reprieve from your temper Do we receive the rest of the year. 162

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Musician You wish to be a great musician, But you wish not to teach. Instead, you'd rather dedicate your time To using your music to preach 5 To others of the Lord, or learning Music that is more intricate Than what you can currently play, Because this hunger you cannot sate. Sometimes your words and actions 10 Strike me as hypocrisy, But the fittest and most just Judge is and never will be me. There are certain notes recorded In your book and conversations 15 That are odd enough to impress; it's a Shame I can't share some of my observations Without becoming less of a person, More of an evil in your sight. I've already been called Satan, 20 And words like that bite. 163

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma I'm Sor ry I'm sorry for a great many Things over these past two years That have driven us apart; Stabbed as 'mazonian spears. 5 Once the down side of The Schwartz77 we fought, And we could finish Each the other's thoughts. 77 down. . . Schwartz: a reference to the classic movie Spaceballs 164

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Lump of Clay How did you nab Those femmes that quick? This new kid routine Truly makes me sick. 5 Like a lump of clay You've been tossed about; But that's what being in Ninth grade's all about. Enjoy being ragged 10 While you're a freshman; But by all means torment Underclassmen when you can. 165

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Walnut Shell She's in love with him, but She doesn't know it yet; When she caves in, he Won't let her forget. 5 She doesn't like to run, She doesn't like the beach, But in a few more years She'll be within his reach. She's like a walnut shell, 10 Easy to crack after roasting. “I'm gonna wear her down,' Even now he's boasting. 166

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Empty Cr ush I'm too good to you You have told me, But all I do is Give you candy 5 And compliment Your wild beauty And fantastic shortness And how it affects me. I have an empty crush 10 On you that can never be. You don't like my type, Although you may like me. 167

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Makes Me Sick People like you make me sick. My Hands are sore from writing this mess, But you did not bother to skim. That upsets me, I must confess. 5 What else upsets me? The conversations we've had Relating similar thoughts and Experiences quite sad. Let's go for a morning run 10 Sometime after midnight, Tekno out to Prodigy, ask the Dictionary if the spelling's right. 168

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Self Destr uctor It is almost as if Ye are condescending When, through your ill actions, Your life you are ending. 5 Mean you to make it seem That others are not worth Your effort required To rid them of this earth? Do ye destroy thyself because 10 It is proper of thy station, Or is it only due to your Fatalistic resignation? 169

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Insults on the Trampoline Anthony, my old friend, A decade has come to an end When we did joke and play Around almost everyday. 5 Remember playtime being put on Hold due to a mandate to clean, Or how about Butler's Store, forts, And insults on the trampoline? I'm in the Navy now, 10 And so are you, Because the Marines are A branch of the dark blue. Be a good officer, Mr. T, But remember I'm on the A Team 15 From middle school. That's such a while Ago that it seems as if a dream. 170

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Pecan Man They don't call you Pecan Man without reason, But we'll discuss that Next cross country season 5 When I am a chaperon At the State Championships, It's been said your ears can Like radar pick up blips; But that's just a derogatory remark 10 Like many you make about others, Their looks, actions, clothing, Cars, shoes, and their mothers. You're short, lightweight, and Mean like a rabid pug, 15 And you seem to gloat at beating me At State when I ran like a slug. 171

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Genetically Engineered I am genetically engineered To be only myself, To be computer literate, And to fantasize about an elf 5 And sometimes about whip Cream as it pertains to sex. My genes have made me be attracted By the concepts of QNX78. I can't be anyone else; 10 It's the fault of DNA That I am writing this In mine own special way. 78 QNX: a real time operating system that's neat 172

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Braggart of Unworthy Boasts Ev'ry thing ye count as Worthy of manly praise Hath offended me quite A bit these past few days. 5 Ye claim of having she as Pale as snowed Colorado To be the slave of thine whim And fire for thy bravado. Ye claim to be the pimp 10 Daddy, Mac, Homey, G, But, though thou tryest hard, thy Attempts are just funny. Little of which ye brag Has calibre, and most 15 Often y'art an braggart Of an unworthy boast. 173

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Take It, Easy Despite what other friends may do, I only find evil in you. Though they may swear and curse and fight, I am assured they're in the Light, 5 Unlike you who would lead astray All to be the victims you'd play With mentally and greedily prey 'Pon emotions until you'd slay With little guilt and less remorse 10 Than an old, rabid, legless horse. What good's a steed has it no legs? You burn through friends 'sif powder kegs They are. I'd fancy you a tart, But you've been one from the start; 15 Thus there is no need to pretend. Woe to the paths you've made them wend; They only breed turmoil Fought over such worthless soil. 174

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Prejudice Fades What a shame it is That prejudice fades From glossy black into Numerous gray shades. 5 Don't get me wrong, You I didn't wish to like, Yea, I'd rather have Run you o'er with my bike. It seems I'm out of the clouds, 10 Flat feet on the soil And it is beneath me, I think , To cause turmoil. Seems I've grown accustomed To your offensive ways 15 After having been around Them for years and days. You upset me no more, Still I want you not as a friend, Forget this ever happened, 20 There. The END. 175

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma A Retur n to This Nothingness You left to be a Viking, Though thou possess not horns Or helmet or gilded sword, Which thine two hands hath borne. 5 Two plain body parts would Those by which you grasp with be Had they not befriended By association me. In Scandinavian 10 Silence, remote and of glee, A short forever lived You hopefully from friendships free. We could not bring you down There, as always before; 15 Escaped ye from our taint Which now corrodes our gore. But why from 'cross the salt should You return to nothingness? I'd you'd raid another land 20 Where hypocrites not transgress. 176

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Mea Culpa I must apologize For talking aught of girls. We should have been smart, and We should have hunted squirrels. 5 I troubled you sans need With such meaningless talk That I should've been found Face down outlined in chalk. Instead, ourselves and our 10 Friendship was ruinéd By the regretful things That each bitterly said. Maybe, were I better At giving love's advice, 15 I could've saved your turmoil, And I'd not count such talk vice. 177

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Penguins on My Own Fine! I'll adopt my penguins, They still need a home To protect them from orcas, You, and dogs that foam. 5 It's a tough life on the streets For penguins on ice Flippers would hinder success Even if they got a slice. I told you I wanted our 10 Penguins. You said, “That's nice.” You then left after burning the Pot roast and beating me up thrice. But I'll raise my penguins Well after they're grown. 15 I would have let you, But you're painfully gone. You told me you hate me and Would rather wing it alone. 178

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Tally And you gave e'én me a hug! 'Twas 'sif an angel fell From heaven so that I'd not shrug. I'm feeling passing well. 5 An you gave me e'én me a kiss, Who would you let me tell Of utmost achievable bliss? I would feel passing well. An you gave e'en me your voice's 10 Sweet whispers as an ocean's shell, I'd faint, as one oft' does. I would feel passing well. An you gave e'én me your love And all that does entail, 15 I'd treasure it eternity. I would feel passing well. An you gave e'én me your hand In marriage, I'd try not to fail To make you happy e'er. 20 I would feel passing well. An you gave e'én me the time Of day, I'd not feel Hell While watching you flirt with others; Then I'd feel passing well. 179

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Burned Out Beacon You once were the beautiful bright Beacon to all boys bosoms, but now You're just a little possessed snot. Lay off my friend, it's his life, his right; 5 And your fiery words are too hot. Everyone can't be perfect like you And turn their homework promptly in continually Or function impeccably in clubs like you expect them to. You are such a jerk , which you do not see 10 Because a little diademic halo rests beneath your brow. 180

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Taste in Decisions You have the worst Taste in everything, And from the first Time you've not cared. 5 Your selections in men Are something of a feat; You filter out the decent To find the ones that beat. Your preferences in their 10 Best friends prove you a nut; You love a nipping, Deranged, and disgusting mutt. You can't even pick moods; They are ever switching. 15 One moment you're all tears, The next you're. . . coughing. You can't make an intelligent Choice in your decisions. It's hard not to laugh at the steps 20 You take to reach your visions. 181

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma For a Split Second You better make your mark , Because you're burning out fast. If you keep this harm up, then, Like an artist, you won't last. 5 A meteor incinerates Brilliantly, then finds itself gone. To last for an extended time, You must be plain as the phone. You've got to nimbly skirt 10 The fine line of selfdestruction Between oblivion and fame To prevent a life reduction. Please don't become an artist, They never seem to reach old age, 15 And instead perish young, as If by the curse of a mage. 182

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma .Jpg By all means protect Your precious image While you neglect Your self and desires 5 For the codependent wish For the group to like you, Which influences the actions In public that you do. Over the extra speakers 10 You added to give bass You blast “cool” music To save reputation's face. It'd be different if you liked the music, And it intruded not upon your style. 15 But with acquaintances and girls you Won't listen to anything worthwhile; The volume must go up and The bass must thump with success To showcase your bragging rights to the 20 Uninterested you would impress. 183

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma E'er y Thing Changes You Everything changes you, Not just the military. Were you not equally as Morphed by the tooth fairy 5 When you knew she did not exist? How About with Santa or the Bunny79? I find your childish fears Not the least bit funny. I know what has changed you most recently, a 10 Stupidly childish immature little girl Who set your tipsyturvy80 into a Pitilessly stoppable swirl. Give over, you've got to give Up on some of your friends, 15 For each path must terminate, And every friendship ends. Next time before you annoyingly call To selfishly profess against change, Think of life as the mosaic of rearrange 20 And of how immature whelplettes81 derange. 79 Bunny: the Easter Bunny 80 Your tipsyturvy: life 81 Whelplettes: female welps 184

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Pampers You just want to be loved And pampered and flattered Until such an time when It wouldn't have mattered. 5 You require gifts more Than one man could afford And treasures of love greater Than could ever be stored. And if you could attain 10 These, happy you'd be; Your joy would also Delightfully content me. 185

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Packaging I must disagree. The perfect Package isn't a Coke bottle, But the form of a girl I know Who should be a [role] model. 5 Her physique begs the question, “What more could she need?” Her legs enable her the ability To run down a galloping steed. What's more she's kept her faith 10 With all the temptations she's provided, While, through this comparatively drab Plane, like Elegance she has glided. 186

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma A Mus If you and I should ever be, then We'd have to be occasional lovers With periods of space and Intervals under covers. 5 Like a friend I detest you After extended exposure, thus To keep my attraction for you Sharp as the repeat of a mus Ket, separation is the key. 10 Addiction builds up mine tolerance Till euphoria and overdose are Empty as twenty years of donning pants. Unlike some with whom I love When with; loathe when apart; 15 I need breaks from your monotony To cherish you freshly as at the start. Addiction builds up mine tolerance Till the euphoria and overdose are Empty as twenty years of putting on pants. 20 Thus things are. 187

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Poetic Interference Lamentfully, I can never entertain The notion to blissfully marry you, No matter how very much I may want, long, pine to. 5 I cannot write to you an ode, Despite your being gorgeously lush. You are such an uninspiring Lass that crimsonly I blush. I would be perennially 10 Married the span of April from May If, sadly, you weren't Uninspiration's obedient face. 188

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Fact Smiles I would swear we were facsimiles, but I've Already given someone else that name. Thus, you can't be my replica. If it's all the same 5 To you, can I fancy Us as comparable? The seeds of quiet discourse Hath found our minds arable. In juxtaposed distance we both 10 Arrived at the same conclusions About aspects of life and society Some would call delusions, And if they are correct, still, We thought alike, you see. 15 Is that how things worked with the Originators of philosophy? 189

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Pluto and Charon Off in space, as it seems, Disconnected darkly where None could hear the screams Of tortured coldness 5 Except for the occasional Neptune passing by, Who you probably wouldn't Let hear you cry Since away from such 10 You brokenly ran away Parting from grave orbit In a memory far away. Of you twain escape artists Which of you works the hardest 15 And which is most rife with sin And evil down below within? Charon the loving boatman Who does others deliver To Hell, your pal, who is 20 Larger only a sliver. Or Pluto, the incarnate Hell Whose atmospheric shell's frail As a mask where all can see In the light there it does be 25 On the one half thinly in glee For hiding the darkly empty. Calmly with pure intents You happen to deceive Yourself, Charon, and all souls 30 From him you do receive. Though one of you is bigger In the force of gyration, The tugging created diminishes You both in force of the rotation. 35 With the elliptical orbit which Is planetarily unfitting 190

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Throughout the spinning galaxy You seem to be sitting Unable to truly master collaborative 40 Force, as in a gerrymander. You'll never become the something Much more powerful and grander. Woe you weren't the hidden planet that Influences the orbit of Neptune; 45 You separated and settled For being a double moon. 191

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Feef There was no denying she was A sweet girl, if small, Who, though gregarious, had Little to say at all. 5 She was an inflatable doll, though “Deflatable” would be the word others'd use. She was perhaps a case study a Guidance counselor would peruse. Vitality and enthusiasm ever 10 Did she gradually tend to lose. Her selfesteem was variable, Albeit, as her chest, never flat. She was mediocrily brilliant, and I never entertained her to be fat. 192

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Will What will you buy of mine When I'm dead and finally matter? Will you react at the news, Or will it you shatter? 5 Will you attend my funeral, If they can find my remains? After my sad passage, Will you cease flying planes? Will you attend the auctions, 10 If I have anything of some worth? Will you steal from my family The memories collected since birth82? Will you call me a great poet To increase precious book sales? 15 What memorabilia will be sold While the event's awareness prevails? When I leave everything, Will I truly have nothing? Maybe friends will recall me; 20 That will be something. 82 Memories. . . birth: artifacts, knickknacks, pictures, toys, etc. 193

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Upon Awakening If you awake in the morning, As is known not to always occur Due to sleep deprivation, parties, death, And whatever else you would infer, 5 Then, greatly inquisitive, I would beg to know If you are as unscathed as before Life's dreams you did undergo, And ask of you to send word in 10 Message, unless you vaguely forget As you awake calmly from the Repast mental83 in a nervous sweat. 83 Repast mental: sleep 194

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Chapter IX All Things Great and Small I feel it my duty to All things great and small praise, From the lowly king to The mighty ant on his dais. 5 And if it is not my duty, I'd like it to be my wish. Every pelican deserves recognition Just as each unborn fish. I'd love to lavish the world 10 In my dialect's simpleness And in splendour and elaborateness Every unclothéd bear redress84. 84 Redress: dress again 195

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Gluck As with death, when one must Apology extend For lacking aught to say As the mind doesn't lend 5 Necessary sincere Words for the occasion But proves to be like an Incan to an Asian— Foreign and unaware, 10 What should one say when told “Good luck?” Is it, “I will Perform many a fold Better than I could ha'e, An those words you'd not spake?” 15 Should one inquire whose leg One is supposed to break? Do they doubt my intent When saying, “Do your best!”? If I'm to be a robin, 20 I'd have to be a red breast! 196

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma So What 'tother word will ever be As forsaken, scorned, and unfairly Persecuted as innocent “So,” Who lost her maidenhead long ago? 5 So what if her use is free and Often and gladly by the hand? Another harlot hath Jesus saved From humanity which fickly raved. The loving of So was e'er pleasant 10 Till guilt from the hunts of witch, not pheasant— O woe, what a dark and jealous time When man killed to hide adult'rous crime And blamed his transgression upon she Who must've bewitched magic'ly 15 As he would never abuse power Yet manged still to steal her flowers— Carried over into grammar And for shame guilty did stammer And deny e'er knowing her sweet love 20 On any plane below or above. Illreputed, unfrequented, Wrongly hated, So lamented And was picked at by generations Who art oft' the prior's compilations. 25 Beware, words and women, men's hearts Haven't love or constancy. Carts Are sometimes filled to the brim, but All can be removed that was put. Which of ye easylovers to boot 30 Will next eagerly follow So's suit, A, an, the, because, and, but, for, nor, Or, yet? Words soon'll be used no more. 197

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Joshing? Me? Prithee, concerning whom was the Phrase “Joshing you” originated? We must say it's certainly Been an idiom we've hated. 5 Must've been an idiot, Perhaps one drenched in shame, That he pretended Josh Was his truthful name. All the Joshes we know 10 Are upstanding citizens. We do not act as He'll Joshing denizens. We would never act in such A way; we're sure we've been framed, 15 Presumably by the one who Charlie's Horse's moniker so maimed. 198

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma A Philiac's Metamor phoses Quote me not unless bored, but I was taught to never change For love—a fickle abstraction That does easily derange. 5 The application of this maxim Has negative implications Should obsesséd freaks and The like be any indication. Their intent of intense desire 10 Varies seldomly over time; It is this loyalty which Is consideréd the crime. Should a person change not, Relationships could prove hairy 15 Due to obstinate clashings and Drinking of products dairy. God is love and ye must Not have truly repented If sinful ways ye change not 20 Despite what He's said and hinted. Sex itself could prove uncomfortable Should changing be not involved; The problem of bothersome clothes Interfering'd have to be solved. 199

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma 200

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Chapter X “Haiku's for No One” Haiku's for no one, For my perfect lovely girl Who was never named. “Sweetness” Her voice is as sweet As the words it ne'er will speak. My muted beauty. “Silk” Shaggy spider web silk Sandy blonde at roots Strawberry at the tips “Conditioner” Fondles her midback Finger stroking windily Coiled for emphasis “A Green Ground” Yellow rivulets Of limestone green, purple pores Specked with birthstone blue. “Pools” All expression and Communication should swim In these profound thoughts. “Lips” Fleshbills as soft as music Full as gibbous moon Pale as unspoke thought 201

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma “A Taste” Receptive moist skin Eden tastes as orange sherbert E'er pleasing and chilled “Tegument” Marred with complexion As soft as her gentle heart Freckled where I kiss “Thermal Need” Meager covering To touch ever chilled as ice Requiring my warmth “Llama” Name as rolling and Long as the Georgia Piedmont Or family feud “Camel” A boyscout snake, this Label ties up tongue and Constricts capacity “Indecencies” With froggy toes webbed Her feet will be as flippers; I hate being pinched. “Necking” A polished tower Hair's curled from the left, behind, Over to bosom 202

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma “Objectivity” Proportional to all Things to her figure Be it petite or plump. “Thailand” Surface tension smooth As stretchéd and long as my love For her will last. “A Doll” Height is important. She must be lifesized enough To be seen by all. “A Right to Bear” These cannot be Underestimated she does Need them to grasp me. “Obelisks” Delicate power Shafts strong enough to support The weight of my head “Washington” The roll is calléd Their number is thirtytwo In their gum wrapper “SemiVery Precious” Pearly offwhite stones must be Long enough for her To lovingly nip 203

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma “Singing How She Does” The deformation Isn't length or shape But it's desire to nuzzle “Licking? Good” To hold like a dream Long as needs be with the nails Gilded like stained glass “Placement” Like dwarves in caverns Fitting comfortably in The vastness of mine. “Jojo” Stately as naught else, Fleshed out to prevent ennuí85, Unslumpéd grandeur “Maybe” When I see my love Outside of dream, then I'd say Earthy love exists. 85 Ennuí: boredom, and such 204

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Chapter XI Travels A person's made by the travels; It's not merely decoration. We're a product of our knowledge garnered From experience's confrontations. 5 Education is a trip to Dispel ignorant illusions. Should one enjoy that cruise, one'd Be filled with new allusions. In dreams we oft' walk alone 10 Or flee from internal wraths. Is it not delightful when One treads down the psychopaths86? What is a travel but a chance To learn how little we know? 15 Education, literature, And dreams are joys from which to grow. 86 Is it not. . . the psychopaths: the paths in the mind; I've never trampled a psychotic deranged. 205

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Br idges We sat atop bridges, though Our lives we couldn't cross. Though I loved her lots, She felt for me dross. 5 Poised blandly admiring murky Waters of the Ochlocknee, I forgot about her and dreamed Of my old home near the sea. Near Fargo I was wading shallowly 10 The swamp's Suwanee, bridge overhead. In the tea waters splashing, I'd been warned To veer from dark spots or wind up dead. Swamp, my Swamp, where I feel at home, I walk above wildlife on a boardwalk 15 Which in the end woodenly towers Presenting a view of where soulless87 stalk. I've fished in you when of small age; I was too bored sitting to catch much. All I wanted was to walk the trails 20 With bridges, canoe, and some such. There were no bridges at Trader's Hill Where I developed swimming skills, But there was a boat ramp and dock And at times a gator—sorta like a croc. 25 Stroking North of you on clean waters Can be found near the lottery of D & L's88 A perilous span with black canals beside That could not comfortably solace with rails. I always mesmerizedly feared falling in 30 The abysses whilst we drove And deadly would I be found By unlucky rescuers who dove. On Danespoint89, which my stepfather maintained, I intoxicatedly breathe in the angled heights 87 Soulless: animals 88 D & L's: a store on the St. Mary's River right across the Florida border. 89 Danespoint: a very lofty bridge in Jacksonville, FL. 206

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma 35 Of the St. Johns while a lesser part of me Was given acrophobic chills and frights. But Fernandina salt marshes at sunset Is the image I've always had for love. Many times I've abrasively stared 40 At that vegetated waterway from above. 207

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Mendeleev It happened to be a cold demise. The day had begun with warm skies That threatened not of elements' exposure. Complacently content was I in the enclosure. 5 I had ventured sans an implement of fire, And, unexpectedly in panic, I found myself dire In need of heat; my way had been lost. With surreal speed descended the frost. Stumbling with no sure place to go, 10 I shivered in the cold, eating snow. Tragically, the flakes are mainly made of air90, Which is, ironically, descriptive of some lovers' care. I had blindly journeyed to rescue you, But you truly eluded me; I'm hypothermic blue. 15 If you loved me, you'd not left or capriciously led. Like a cannibal phoenix91 from me others have fed. 90 Tragically. . . air: the body wastes exorbitant amounts of energy heating these flakes trying to make water; it only hurts in the end. 91 Cannibal phoenix: a bird that rises from its ashes, or in this case, its own corpse, and creates a being possessing the same body, but a different personal identity 208

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma My White Love My white love went riding On a horse that bore her away, But I still remember her parting words, “I'll be back for you someday.” 5 And in my dreams I wonder Whither she might be? I picture her gliding by, Hair waving windily. Upon streets of turquoise, 10 The clipclop hooves have tread, Pausing only once here and there For migrating soda bread. Behind her a glimmering moon Spews butterflies into the air, 15 And all of them weep to praise My mistress that graced them there. And in my dreams I know She loves me with all her mind, For when she but utters my name 20 A smile's all my mind's eye can find. Across the sparkling waves she flies To drink at rowdy sand bars; And when she inebriatedly brawls, she Proves to my leaping heart women are from Mars. 25 Amid the clouds of snow banks She dusts off her reining hands. She's coming back to me From beyond those dull foreign strands. And from my dreams I wake up 30 To a bitter reality; I like my dreams much better, For there she returned and kissed me. 209

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Fief 'She's such a lovely pretty girl,' Longingly thought the lonely earl, And in a conscious state that was alternate Lived in a dream he could not forget. 5 Waltzing in mist under moonlight, She made for a delectable sight. She hastily turned and laughed, as if whisked away, And twirled and dipped, as if on her knees to pray. She forgave him of his splendour and conceit, 10 Called him the most common man she did ever meet, And, as she majestically twirled around, He forgot about her queen's crown. Then, they ran off to simply live and elope Beyond the range of the king's power's scope. 15 He'd given up his title and feudal vow, The king might surely be angry now. 210

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Deflowering Fields As if in a dream I run deflowering fields Of the spring's newborn Bounteously petaled yields. 5 It's rare one sees blue In nature; the oceans are green. Yet, childishly, the sky92 adorns My fingers and in between. From peedabeds93 and aphids94 10 I've fashioned a toga. In this blackeyed Susie95 Hut I meditate in yoga. With a honeysuckled daisy diadem, I naturally rule in thought. 15 My embellished ways96 have more flowers Than any florist has bought. Excessively I've strewn petals Where their transpiration splatters To find out if she loves me 20 Or not and other such matters. 92 Sky: vibrant blue in the form of flowers 93 Peedabeds: a small, white type of flower which my greatgrandmother purported would cause one to wet the bed at night if touched. Hence her name for it. 94 Aphids: small critters that take residence of flowers, thus, when flowers are used, they are present as well 95 Blackeyed susie: another type of flower. It's brown in the center and has orangishyellow petals, reminiscent of a small, orange, wildflower strain of sunflower. It is perhaps my favorite flower. 96 Ways: paths 211

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Ruins of the Present Day Atlanta will make beautifully Intriguing ruins for clueless posterity Who visit centuries from now at The behest of the tourist industry 5 Who convinces the ignorant to visit A place of insignificance in the general scheme Of distantly irrelevant strings of futilely Interconnected moments known as life's dream. As they stand in belittled awe 'neath 10 And near piled clusters of freeways, Smugly will they unfairly compare Architecture with that of those days. Architecture builds upon each advance, “They're” indebted to “us” for the abstractly pretty. 15 I need no gothic cathedral to feel diminished, I've Peered up at the mammoth foundations of that city. After America collapses There will be a semidark ages In which chaos erases vast amounts 20 Of our knowledge from history's pages. It's tragic—the truth that each empire, Its glories, and feats shall fall And be rudely derided and scorned by another Who'll perform the same mistakes, after all. 25 I'm thankful to be in a creative era's sway of civilization And to intactly witness what's taken for granted And paid less thought by those who question not perpetuity, Because by other presentday ruins they're enchanted. 212

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma You No Be Existing If I could go back in time, None of you would exist. We'd all disappear as dust Under a crushing, mighty fist. 5 A continent of time I'd traverse, Over the divide97 four thousand more years To an Aden98 where His presence made The mighty rivers weep joyous tears. When the serpent is spotted entering, 10 The first murder would occur; Not that of the future Abel But of the musical Lucifer. The fruit being untouched, innocence Would still be Adam and Eve. 15 We the punishment would not Have being. That's what I believe. 97 Divide: continental divide (i.e. the Rockies) 98 Aden: paradise 213

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Geneses Where did you come from, And why can't I go back To witness only some Of our painful geneses? 5 What block hinders my Remembrances from infancy? Those memories are locked Deep beneath the psyche That might possibly be unable to 10 Relate any early experience Because away from those infantile Images did language rinse The primal coherence in Which they were encrypted. 15 Perchance one day that will be Deciphered by one gifted In the science of mental archeology At uncovering intangible layers for the eye. But where are you from; 20 The same place as I? 214

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma An Abbey Row Dead beside the ruins or the body Once known as Jim Morrison of the Doors, Located across the Sargasso Sea West of the Baltic shores, 5 Might be found an unknown, wretch, or Great person according to how History does retell or forget, Which it's been apt to do till now! As odds are, I shan't be 10 Buried next to the psychedelic singer, And somewhere in America, not Westminster Abbey, shalt I linger. 215

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Chapter XII Weed They grow up in adversity, always hated. Others are not happy until their lives have dissipated. But what makes them less special than a rose? Marry, they're much nicer, sans the thorns it grows. 5 Picked and sprayed and from soil freed Lives the fittest of Nature's breed, The outcast, the eyesore, the weed. 216

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Strawber ry So maybe I can't make Lemonade from a strawberry, But does my desire to do thus Make me seem strange and scary? 5 If I were as red And lush as thee, Would you desire To devour me? I should find something 10 Better to do Than to sit here And muse over you. There are some things That cannot be; 15 You are a strawberry, And I am just me. 217

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Dreaming In Dreaming in on silent wings Crooning is the song it sings Floating in on moonbeams stars Flickering in to break a silent peace 5 Swarthed in mystic Golden Fleece Shuddering in on moonbeam bars Shimmering in once more this night Glorious beauty on untouched height On silent wings it flies 10 Sparking in 'neath crimson moon Luring as the call of the loon Questing across the skies. 218

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma PinkScarred Skies Pinkscarred skies Dazzle the eyes Dancing in ripples To the tears the sun cries 5 Purplestained clouds Wisping to aye Shadowing the morn Heralding the day Dew drop cries 10 Tears of the stars Droplets of iridescence Reflecting the storms of Venus and Mars Bluestreak slashing Flashing gray ribbons and bands 15 Silence unfolds as Solaris99 crests o'er the lands. 99 Solaris: the sun 219

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Star You're a star, A hot gaseous cloud On the verge of An explosion quite loud. 220

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Wild Wild is on wing On stretching vine Clutching and covetous Claiming all as “mine” 5 Wild the blossom Be as it glistens in the morrow's dew Wild is a portion emotion Wild will not heed you Wild is the starlight 10 Aflickering, fluttering Wild is the call That sets your heart shuddering Wild is in all things Tame it never be 15 Wild will set you chaotically free Wild is the feeling of how you see. 221

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Split Apart Orange and black mosaic We do make a scene Swarming in love Covering screen 5 Siamese lovers Love makes us dead A single mind and body With two single heads Lovelocked and backbound 10 Deathblack wings small thundering Why do I love my soulmate The one mind is apondering Thickest as a night, Scraggly few, now dead 15 A single mind and body With two single heads. 222

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma War of the Roses Roses on a thorny stem Living in beauty and splendor Unfolded to perfume the world. They are called to arms 5 To fight a futile war That shall end them Time is an unfair opponent With all of the advantages And all the time in the world to fight 10 The roses wither and blacken Lose their beauty to an unkind age The waning minion of time Cut from the stem They enjoy a decomposing rot 15 Joy they wouldn't have had, had they fought not The roses still blossom Blossom to wither and die Fighting the same war as you and I 223

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Supernova His love was a comet's song; Beautiful, lovely, disastrously gone. Bleeding tears of milky despair, With the cosmos his pain to share. 5 He was taken with aflaring anger and fearful ague, And here is where it all grows vague, For which of you mayst nobly say Aught of the demented mood on that day When the swollen red giant burst? 10 In anguished, doubting confusion, and what's worst Of all these passions, a selfhating shriek Urging selfslaughter in no way meek. This once dazzling and coyish entity Set fright in all who did see 15 His plasma smear the firmament, And to his fickle love was sent Word of his turbulent demise. On occasion she thinks and cries, Her cold tears streaking watching skies. 20 But she has no forgiveness in their eyes, And from where he once lay she's often fled Like cosmic winds to another's bed; And with thoughts as empty as his love, We now wonder if there's life above. 224

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Meteors Must Land Somewhere Meteors must land somewhere, Even occasionally on frogs. They even cast their light On nights of opaque fogs. 5 With the green hues of Purpled red and midnight's blue, Fall they haphazardly, Not knowing what to do. Then, like feeling from a dream, 10 They spontaneously depart, Leaving behind the awed world To wonder at fleeting art. I've never grappled one, But I know they exist. 15 Until I catch a shooting star, Will I know what I have missed? 225

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Chapter XIII Pelham Renaissance I'd like to think I Made at least a dent In the plexiglass frame Of a world when I have spent 5 My last worthless Canadian penny On a thrill ride and accident That claims the lives of All the baggage. The mint Produces only one flawed coin, 10 The one that is subnonabnormal. I want us and my friends to be Oddballs garbed in the stunning formal Wear of fame and influentialness, I want to tease the world by 15 Exposing the garters 'neath that dress That is cut too close to home. On the range where distinction is Boiled a new recipe should cook. The pot should be filled 20 With art and music and a book Or two from the heart of Operations where I dwell This adobe house is stifling And it burns like the fires of Hell. 25 The logs and kindling Of creativity unsanded And unwhittled from the tree That upon the ground landed In the entrapping mire to rot. 30 I want this baggage to escape this airport Terminal where bags of future and capabilities Are lost and destroyed by a drug dog's snort. Bootstraps will have to be yanked and tugged, But one day we'll have our war 226

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma 35 That when won shall place us In the Florentine histories forever more As the Pelham Renaissance, Mixed with ideas and diversification. To pull this off we'll need ideas, 40 Patrons, and some cooperation. 227

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Omnivenicient Empowered with my Venetian sight100, I longingly peer through blinds Into a rustic courtyard, emptiness, where My vision has spilled, is present in many kinds. 5 The slate sky suspended distantly away Has abandoned its loving rains. Lonely, it has become sorrowfully blue; The colour of one who complains. Solemn oaks and willows have lost 10 The intimate company of wind, Who must journey wherever Solaris's Heated passions fickly send. No living being with a soule Takes refuge in the exposure 15 And have instead forsaken the courtyard For the sheltered brick enclosure That stands formidably and, As a turtle, low to the ground. The base foundation has been painted 20 By the deluge's silt that has browned101. Lo, movement stirs beneath the catwalk Roofed with one rippled tin segment undone. Like wildfire over thick humus102, they Blaze a rampant course as they run 25 From the battered black double doors To the innards of the cafeteria's walls. One of these few streaking teens Stumbles, slips, and slickly falls. As if arisen from the dead, 30 The ravenous youth moistly stands And angrily chases those who've fled Madly for nomadic sustenance103. With his jeaned departure all is still, 100 Venetian sight: the figure is peering through Venetian blinds 101 Painted. . .browned: dirt skimming the top of the flood has collected on the brick 102 Humus: natural debris in forest, such as dead trees and leaves; it's highly flammable 103 Nomadic sustenance: involving migration to eat 228

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma And fallen oak leaves are left alone 35 In plastered heaps of rusty brown Where by wind and rain they've been blown. But the solitude interwoven departs With the stampede of unaware pupils Boisterously speaking, without hearts, 40 Cold words and jokes and lack of thought. The lips do move, as do their legs, But neither makes audible sound. The promise of edible confetti104 leads Them targetedly across the ground. 45 Despairing as they all pass by Without a word or acknowledgment, I feel battered by ostracism. Of what do I need repent? A peculiarly unfitting sight has caused 50 Me from my thoughts to be awoke. This herd has a straggler; She's halted near an weathered oak. The wind, who has newly returned At this time of mortal repast, 55 Speaks mildly to his leaféd cronies— Presumably about adventures passed. The interaction of conversation Stirs the residential dew of the leaves Which gravely by gravity mattes 60 The red covering of where she conceives105. As if she can feel mine eyes, Glazed from staring observations, Upon me has she fixed A glance of considering consternation. 65 Alone, I slink back to my comrades Treading the boards106 where all can see The illusions I represent while still Being unable to perceive me. 104 edible confetti: food 105 Mattes. . . conceives: damply mattes her hair 106 Treading. . . boards: acting 229

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Why Do I Always Hear Screams Why do I always Hear screams in this place? Is there some secret terror That I must one day face? 5 Anguish stirs me In the dead of night, And I awake to voices Engaged in a fight. What is the message they 10 Try to convey to me Through their screams of Anger and agony? It was unfortunate to Live in this unlucky house 15 Where one even hears The cries of cows. It would be better if I Could slip away in my dreams, Instead of being 20 Tormented with screams. 230

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Erroneous Misconceptions This countryside I am of thee Limited beyond liberty In my knowledge. In conceptions of foreign lands 5 And people, I misunderstand; This I do pledge. How can I be exposed of naught And know more than what it has bought Then stored in vault? 10 Though I question now what I think , Worldly “truths” in error I link; It's Pelham's fault. The people of cities appear Different from those we have here, 15 And surely the South cannot be Inbred for its entirety. [Ana]Baptism simply cannot be The world's religion popularly; My genius and education here 20 Elsewhere would be quite something to jeer. Truthfully, I cannot base the World 'pon what I know to be true. Instead, I must seek out more knowledge And experience to broaden view. 231

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Armed Forces Let's all join the Armed Forces And reunite at boot camp, For I find the tears at Graduation a bit damp. 5 And if you're going to cry, It might as well be there During the warm reception When they remove your hair. All is fair in love and war, 10 And I love you all as friends; Imagine the exploits we would Fairly pull off should peace end. We could stay in boot camp. Hey, who really needs to see action? 15 Change the rules a little bit; eighteen Hours of sleep'd bring me satisfaction. If a few of us could cook , The rest of us could clean. We'd need at least one officer, and 20 Lots of boxerbriefs with Wolverine. We could molest the system, Start up a Pelham gang, Enlist all the on base kids, and Teach them to use oaths and slang. 232

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Chapter XIV Perfection It is only called perfection Because it humans cannot ha'e; We're too petty and immoral, And e'en those of the church are lay. 5 For what else is a lay person Than one of God's inferiors? Like Satan man sins and, therefore, Must get to His posterior. It is He and He alone who's 10 This sinful world's grand minister. If all are equal before His eyes, then What's the holiness of being ordained? Education makes one not better, and E'en the priest will on that day107 be arraigned. 15 The beauty of perfection is That it has natural order. God will always reign supreme, for Man seeks chaos and disorder. It's the simple discrimination 20 Employed to mark Man by the Almighty; There's a reason why we make mistakes, Why we will always be termed flighty. 107 On that day: Judgment Day 233

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma That Which Offends Due to Its Unquestionable Filth Would there was such an thing as The perfect profanity. Judging from conversations, it's Been well sought by humanity. 5 Such an thing only would Offend the one it should. None else, such as the unaware Or innocent, would have to care A whit for what had been spoken, 10 And peacefulness would not be broken. Perhaps it would be an upsoke Psionic message of a bloke [It is ever one rude Who speaks language this crude.] 15 The curse would also, for each letter, Change the curséd's life for the better. Afterwards, one'd require a relaxed rest, For it'd remove anger from the breast; And such is such an exhausting process 20 It'd be spake only under duress. 234

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Perfect Idealist The perfect idealist Has long since been dead, Unable to infect the world With the diseases in his head. 5 Idealists are to Reality blind; One must employ sense, Not just the mind The perfect Puritan 10 Never even existed, Or maybe fell overboard When his ship listed. They're overstudied In American schools; 15 They removed the complex Beauty from language, like fools. Puritans believed In predestination, And their holyroller effects 20 Are still felt across this nation. 235

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma If I Were Omniscient If I were omniscient Would I repent Or end up insane as Knowledge overwhelms my brain? 5 An I were omniscient Would I bother to care About decencies or be Trapped by a primal snare? If I were omniscient 10 Could I possibly survive With the meaningless information Provided by everything alive? An I were omniscient I would know how 15 To become omnipotent Or maybe a drow. 236

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma The Perfect Couch I need a couch with no cushions, And I'll be partially satisfied, If from that vantage The networks108 were spied 5 Showing off the sinning actors Whose illusory actions have lied. This would drive me back To my work of writing Diligently with procrastination 10 And continually fighting To use new words and rhymes And phrases rather biting. Furthermore sated could I think my poor self, 15 If this couch was adjacent To a handy shelf And had no cracks whose exploration Requires the service of an elf To fetch a pen or highlighter or 20 Variously shaped tube of white out That slipped from my dazéd hand In a thoughtful writer's bout. 108 The networks: on TV, such as NBC, CBS, and ABC 237

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Perfect Image You are the perfect image— Of a fake! All the while whilst ye Make oaty passions bake 5 And expose the future pudge Whither child wilst take hold109, Thine faith in faith and God Dost thou proclaim. Bold Are your teasings and shamelessly 10 Accompanied caressings Which wee birds chitter oft' Induce desires of undressings. Pretend not to be one thing with Thy voice 'till ye speak. 15 If ye must too be Christian, make Whoring an art discreetly meek. 109 Future. . . take hold: midriff 238

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Chapter XV Social Ills The problem with social ills in America is that the cure Comes not in gelcaps or pills, and, If chewed, would taste like manure. 5 The problem with social ills Is that drinking deep thoughts Has been replaced with the Consumption of alcoholic draughts. The problem with social ills is 10 There's no holistic solution To deal with pregnancy, abortion, disease, Gambling, violence, drugs, and prostitution. The problem with social ills Is that they affect people 15 Who are all taught differing ideals In their choice building with a steeple. The problem with social ills is Their tendency to be ignored, As they only manifest 20 When idle minds are bored. 239

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Generation of Suckers This is nothing more than a Generation of suckers That impulsively bids Others' lips to pucker. 5 The taste put in my mouth Has a horrible flavour, Why, it tastes just as though These suckers had no Savior. How many licks to the 10 Center? Few, I have found. As it is as hollow As caves beneath the ground. Inside these caves is heard, “This Generation can be played, 15 Hustled for all it's worth, to be Meaninglessly to rest laid.” The gooey core absorbs What controversy will sell. It110 is a worthless pollutant, but 20 Gullibility serves controversy well. These suckers are exactly where Wanted, at the end of a stick Ready to be devoured By the exploiting's shtick111. 25 Suckers are born every second; Such is this complete generation. Music is overwhelming Proof, check out a pop station. Even the looks of things 30 Is utterly appalling; For you are but dominoes And a chain of them is falling Into the next unwitting victim. 110 It: the eagerly consumed trash of controversy (e.g. Marilyn Manson) 111 Shtick: gimmick, trick, routine 240

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Ar med Boxing Not every aspect of life By women who'd not be a wife Only and sought to things alter For their rights would I fain prefer. 5 The weaker sex I'd not oppress, For they're entitled to success. But one of my conservative views Women in violent professions eschews112. Great evil in these contemporary 10 Generations hath arisen. Marry, Some femmes feel that they would somehow enjoy The masculine careers oft' scorned by boys. Is it from madness or a lunacy That women would join the military 15 In hopes to one day serve on the front line? Is there something wrong with their endocrine System? It is a shame they wish to box Away beauty to become a lummox. Maybe it is I who is in the wrong, 20 Though I think not at home do they belong, For I have a love of old chivalry With its biased honor and dignity. It was ingrained by that Roundest Table, Robin Hood, and such medieval fables. 25 Now due to this loathsome need to respect The ladies, and, if need be, them protect, I, quite shocked, wonder at their strange demand To be treated rudely, as if an man. For opening doors why am I at fault? 30 I am merely doing what I was taught. Girls no longer want manners, sonnets, love; The desire's a coarse one who'll beat and shove. Sadly, such is the new gentleman's way. Be kind to a lady; you'll be thought gay. 35 “Why should you stand when girls depart?” they'd ask. 112 Eschews: forbids 241

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma They make girls whores, for respect's such a task To complete it's not worth the endeavour! These coldly treated think themselves clever Because of this, as well as man's equal, 40 Though they're, in fact, the glorious sequel. For a good reason the bodies differ, For man's fate was to be one much stiffer; God decreed it to consist of labour. But, fair Ladies, do draw forth your sabre, 45 Charge in mad assault, and a bullet take, Should you feel you are a better make Than I am, which is probably quite true. Ha! Dead, you can't stop me weeping for you, A thing my honour'd require me to do. 50 Though your brash foolishness me alarms, I say the world does not need your charms! It will be a less civilized place, A Siberia to Samothrace113; Go be pummeled by beglovéd arms. 113 Siberia to Samothrace: a blasted land of barrenness compared to a Grecian island 242

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Lusting Covetous for what will Never be claimed your own, Out of a sinful heart Has licentiousness grown. 5 She knows you're there; she Can feel your leering. Rip out your offensive eye; Staring is not endearing. Lifetime luster till your 10 Stalker's blood sets arusting; Maybe you'll luck up, And maybe you'll quit your lusting. 243

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Defamation It's easy enough to Start conversations with girls As, oddly enough, they all Act as unladylike churls 5 Should one mention a rival To her precious attention. It must be a convention That each girl's her opponent. Till recently I was not 10 Aware of such jealousy Which could be found in all ranks, From prioress to hussy. 244

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma In Heat The school is in heat, Desperate to breed good grades. The most perfect mate Has it been unable to find. 5 The school is in heat; It's that time of year. That its lovers will breed Idiots is its fear. The students are in heat. How 10 Many are having babies? Why? Many fold more than Are contracting rabies. The students are in heat. If not careful, ensuing bedrest 15 Will keep them off their feet Fore'er because of a slav'ry to desires. 245

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Take It from the Top There is only one sanctioned way to Destroy an uncaring society: It must be rid of the ones With the most apathy. 5 Take it from the top, the Powerful will care more If they're stripped of all vestiges of life, Than if it happened to the impotent poor. Take it from there, rectifying 10 All who are applicable, Until the world wisens up And anarchy's coffers are full. 246

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Cereal “Chewy,” thinks me, fork in hand, Commenting on her taste. Throughout pubescence had I been Taught etiquette and not to waste. 5 She tasted not like chicken but Of sumptuous carnal pleasure. Sat I picking at fickle114 fillet; I had deboned her at leisure. All of the girls who've died for me 10 Have touched me in endless ways. In love, I trust all've had the misfortune, I know of one crime that deliciously pays. 114 fickle: female 247

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Envy Me, Fools I don't need a muted beauty; I deserve a figurehead. It's someone up there's duty To ensure that this happens. 5 She doesn't have to think Or care, just be suave. It matters not if she loves Me or has a job. That her gorgeousness is rare 10 As impurity in a dove Is the only requirement For she I shall call love. For then, when I am famous, Derisions can't claim her ugly. 15 For, though they mayst count their wives Loving and sweet, they'll envy me. 248

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Artif icial Drinks I tell you it's evil, an Temptation of awfulness That dupes many perpetually With commercial success. 5 What is this fascination With lemonade and tea And carbonated sodas? They do naught to refresh me. These are artificial beverages, 10 They merely augment thirst and have dregs. Their packaging authenticates freshness; Water never needed jazzy bottles or kegs. It was always readily enough And plentifully consumed. 15 But packaging sells capitalism; One day they'll all be plumed. Haven't these people heard of water? It is what fulfills. A lack of this mercury, 20 Platinumvalued drink kills. 249

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Improvements In their renovations they Destroyed all sentiment And made it from me aloof, Something which I resent. 5 Improvements are destruction Of cherished memory That now only dimly plays Its surreal melody, And though they say I'll always 10 Have the images I have known; Betrayal is what I feel, since the True objects of affinity are gone. 250

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Chumps How is it champions are Considered losers and derided Once the outcome of one Contest has been decided 5 In the Olympics and such Large and competitive matches Where, for one mistake, Dishonour often hatches? Could you, the ordinary, 10 Do as well as the devoted Athletes over whose Loss you have gloated? Could you perform to a Lesser degree that event 15 Or would that compromise the laziness Your life for which you've spent? Spectators are fans for a reason; How quickly do they turn Upon the “disappointing” star and 20 Let smug jealousies burn. 251

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Eyece Some gentlemen oddly happen To be eccentrically nice. Some fool fools treat their Women as bags of ice. 5 Certainly they should be broken To conform to your fragile needs, Handled rather roughly, And put down as lame steeds. A good woman deserves to be tossed 10 Around, treated with little respect. Why else would she linger? True love comes with neglect. 252

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Not Just a Name Good Heavens! That's not just A name but a way of life, Which seems to be more Important than any wife. 5 It makes perfect sense to worship An intangible stranger never met, Whilst taking for granted and ignoring She who should be called “my pet.” I completely understand your 10 Zealous fanaticism over letters Gestaltly strung together by one Deemed to be one of your betters. A person that mortal simply Cannot possibly be. 15 Marry, he is some summa Demigod of reality Who receives the worship And justly due admiration That surely should not be for 20 The Maker of All Creation. It's a good thing I cannot write my Name, lest I should attract a crowd Of nuts and ignorami Who are so not endowed. 25 Anyone can become a friend; What worthless bondage to enter! But a signature is a rare and noble Thing which can nurse one through bleak winter. 253

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma A Friend, A Fan, A Wouldn'tBe Lover “I vow to be offended By everything I can. For this reason alone Have I chosen my man. 5 With Jesus as my lover, I can scorn you all And label the toils of your hands The merits of one who did fall. This gives me closure in 10 My choice of derisions; If I am with a perfect one, I've made the right decisions. What need have I of listening To your brokenly corrupted pleas? 15 If I can find the simple path, Then any predestined can with ease.” Though we burned her as a witch, Not for arcane dabblings but attitude, Everyone assented she was fairly 20 Condescending, to each of us rabble she was rude. This must be the correct demeanor: Unsociable and condemningly uncaring. We Hellbound must not have been elect115, We preferred society and sharing. 115 Elect: one destined for heav'n according to predestination 254

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Chapter XVI Seasons of Chr istianity They peacefully maim In a belligerent way, Mowing down the followers Of Eternal Day. 5 Crowds gather to throng And mock and jeer; When one falls is uttered Such a cheer That all others 10 Are shaken awake To view the one The enemy did take. Prayers are issued; All close by mourn 15 The bloodied chest. Where Did once white adorn? Beleaguered by former fellows, Now the zombies of temptation, Inevitably one will consume 20 Not faith but hesitation. At that moment A good spirit dies; There's e'en some blue In the blackest of skies. 25 And there, watching The young Christians fall, Towers the oft' ignored Creator of all. 255

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma The Falling of the Leaves Watching the falling of the leaves, Tombstones ignore her as she grieves An immortal, now, who no longer conceives But slipped through the strings of life's sieves 5 And from afar watches as she bereaves, But cares more for the falling of the leaves. Watching the falling of the leaves And wondering who she was, He is joyously unable to place her visage 10 And why it cries the way it does. Watching the falling of the leaves, His mind is a beauteous buzz. Watching the falling of the leaves, He has thoroughly forgotten his wife, 15 For to be perfect of body and servitude One must be sheared of the memories of life. Watching the falling of the leaves, Remembrances tasted the steely, holy knife. Watching the falling of the leaves, 20 He was an unentangled slave up above, For to prevent despair and corrupted adoration one Must forget all those one quarreled, kissed, and shoved. Watching the falling of the leaves, His only brainwashed concern was Love. 256

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Already Got One? If you really cared, you'd Translate your own when of age, Instead of relying on the altered Truths others scribbled on each page. 5 Just learn Latin, Hebrew, Aramaic, Greek , Futhark , Old English, and Hindu And there will be no great work you Can't decipher, besides a few. Do you honestly believe HUMANS can get it right? 10 Would you ignorantly trust them with your soule? If you were I you'd decrypt Thoreau's old book116, Then read the length of its breadth whole. But don't give this translation to your friends To prevent them from being condemned 15 By your possible misinterpretations Or certain passages you may have skimmed. 116 Thoreau's old book: The Bible, not Walden. Definitely not Walden 257

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Services Unlike some hypocrites I know, Who regularly to church go And are devout ev'ry Sunday But profusely sin each other day 5 That's a celebration of the lay, I only sin on a church day. This is not intended to show disrespect, For before the Lord I'd genuflect. It but aids me to understand what the Words meant 10 When I commit something of which I must repent, And on these days it's more easily on my mind, Thus, it's easier the truth to find. I am holy the rest of the week , Compassionate, humble, and e'er meek. 15 But at services He I adore When hyped up on acid and much more. 258

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma QuasiCultural Perspective Being called Satan is a part Of life; I'm used to it by now. It's just like being a rude American: I must eat cow. 5 Truly it's not because I Follow a different directive, You're just a follower of another Quasicultural perspective [Religion makes no culture, indeed, 10 It is an afterthought of newborns Who seek out language first, the Prerequisite for culture to form.] That makes you cautiously off Guard and with others protective. 259

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Being Made in the Image of a Deity, and Other Examples of Utility The mind is overrated. The soul has been sung. The heart is used fallaciously such A great amount it should be hung. 5 There is a certain science to all, can you Look literally at each moment entire, Or in your cataloging reflections Are you entangled in a quagmire? “What am I doing on this earth? 10 Couldn't it have been another planet?” Asks the being that should be called Love but was corrupted into Janet. Making in an image Transfers not the value. 15 Counterfeit Tiffany glass Is not as useful as a screw. Mass production ruins The starting value of a make. A mintconditioned Adam is pricier than 20 The collection of Sheol's every mistake. A manual presents troubles And sometimes their remedies; The lack of a thoroughly proper User guide may cause oaths and please. 260

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Role Model I once had a friend, The excomrades will say, That I once thought even Satan he could slay. 5 He exemplified everything That one should be/do. Then, one day he changed Right out of the blue. You can see him there 10 Deceiving his mind. Now in him the Examples we find By reversal. Maybe God learns from his mistakes. 15 Maybe he's the prototype Of educating fakes Whose sole existence is to Show others what not to do. I'm learning something, 20 Are you? He's more effective than exhibiting Penalized drunk drivers at school; For conversation he's the ultimate Recruiter, patch, and tool. 25 Only, it's a shame no One can save him From where he drowns In waves of sin's phlegm. In double conclusion they'd say, 30 “He once was much more; Now he teaches by existence And is empty to the core.” 261

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Pardon, Could You Spare Some Assistance? It's amazing how far You can drift away Without ever Intending to stray. 5 Then, one day you Wake up to a start Accentuated with A vigorous heart At having 10 Drifted apart From the security Of the dense fleet That treads water As Jesus' feet. 15 You'd played pirate then Went to bed one night When against anchors the Wind and waves did fight And tugged 20 You out to sea. Maybe you could Rescue me? 262

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Defense of Clones, Not of Cloning Never did I think in My lifetime to see such folly; Then, the world brazenly met The cannibalistic Dolly117. 5 In angered outrage For playing the Maker, There will be those who Pray a pox to take her Whom intends to have offspring 10 As a child, but only faker. If clones have souls, Soon the world will find; Doubtless it is They will have a mind. 15 My view is that Clones will have a soul, Since it's doubtful that in The making God has a role. This may be scribbled 20 As deists see, But why would he bother with the soul Creation for all humanity? What the devil is A soul anyway? 25 Is it just a word Coined for cliché? Like “mind,” an unassigning String of letters That is rather undefining, 30 As it is not the brain But, perhaps, yourself in fetters To the corruptible human form That wars with it118 and awareness119, but Suitably provides a comfortable dorm. 117 Dolly: the first cloned sheep 118 It: the body 119 Awareness: the vague feeling present in various puppeted body parts 263

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma 35 It is acceptable for opposites To share board; you see Everything is business, although It is taken personally. But maybe the soul 40 Is merely freewill. We'll know if they have It if ever they kill Not for instinct as Base animals do, 45 But for feeling, Say, lust or blue. Maybe the soul Is no more than the mind, Since reason, not instinct, 50 Separates us from animalkind Who haven't, as I've heard In a wellreported fashion, The possession of a soul Or the ability to ration. 55 It makes some sense that if Animals can have no salvation It stems from their Lack of selfdetermination Which is the key to heaven— 60 Faith in Christ's name. For this inability can hardly We them sinfully blame. If salvation isn't for clones Who will doubtlessly have a mind, 65 Then new scriptures shall We humans find To condemn the cloner And the ones created innocently. They weren't born into sin, 70 But they should have no mercy Since they were A sinful creation, 264

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Though they asked not For life's duration. 75 Humans and clones Both begin as a cell; Why should either Be banished to Hell For actions in which 80 They had no part Besides the involuntary Beating of a heart? Matters were Beyond their control, 85 Perchance it is you Who has no soul If the clonee you condemn— It is your option. Can't you see them as 90 A child of adoption Stranded and created By a sinful girl Whose whim forced it Upon this doomèd world? 95 Having no mortal father, As the Immaculate One, Women are to fault Once this is begun. It's probably just 100The defying technology like The newfound ability to fly Which God has merely enabled Man to acquire so that The world may faster die. 105But can it really be playing God An He gave man the ability? With the answers He enables, He creates at least indirectly. 265

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Jesus the Polygamist Naturally, there are some nuns Of illicit illrepute Whose convictions are as a piccolo When compared to the flute— 5 Shorter of length, but sharper Are its notes of fervent duration, Though occasionally it squeaks in err Causing a great deal of exasperation. If the nuns, who art Jesus' brides120, 10 Can't maintain the straight and narrow always, How can anyone on that day Be punished be they of the lay? 120 Nuns. . . brides: complete with wedding bands, so I've heard 266

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Basking and Asking Christianity is a season in Which to bask at the right times And lazily wash off the Grit of the world's grime. 5 This season is like as to summer, When the faith burns as sun, And it spreads as fire consuming Wild grass, seemingly to everyone. The spring121 begins with the chilled 10 But pleasantly unconcerned atheism Which gradually is rather killed Virulently by an unseen Christianity, Towards the end122 the viri blossom In coloured splendour and peace, 15 And the Innocence of faith untried Is worn as Golden Fleece123. The autumnal fire124 is dwindling after The sun's heat did expose and roast. The virus125 that once was as flora 20 Now is exhausting the host. After questioning death, it comes In winter's clinging duress Where the faithful few are terrorized and For spring silently wish under the stress. 121 Spring: birth and infancy/beginnings of faith 122 Towards the end: of Spring (i.e. teenage years) 123 Worn. . . Fleece: flaunted and highly regarded, yet easily discarded in heat 124 Autumnal fire: faith of middle years/the number of believers in that time 125 Virus: religion, faith 267

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma If Deists Were Deer If deists were deer, then They would adapt very well In ruminant groups of Silence where for fear they'd smell 5 In hopes to live a while. Improper, roguish bands Of hunters they'd avoid To not be stuffed or tanned. To further add to it, 10 The hunters are always Hypocritical and Biased in such forays, For to have a belief's To be persecuted 15 Till another doctrine's joy In “heresy”'s diluted For a spell and pauses To think of the righteous acts Haply done to satisfy 20 Doubt and power. The facts Are ne'er objectively Weighed due to that within. Religion should unify, But it taints that sight to sin— 25 Coloured glasses that mar A person's perception Of nature, where all's holy [Base and rife with deception] As all else. Oh, to be 30 Amoral as a star! 268

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma A Condemnation, Like Many Things (I Wr ite) Suicide displays the weakness For which you'll reside in Sheol Where from your torment ye shan't Be able to hide as a mole. 5 Instead you'll be uprooted From your subterranean pad And killed continuously every Second, as an exposéd spy lad. “There is no proof of damnation 10 For leaving this world's drab party,” Some would say to defend a cherished A ritual as the English tea. Oh ho! There thou art in err, Mr. So Religious Christianity, 15 For suicide proves that you are A wretchéd member of humanity. If that engineered book is to be Believed, wherein your faith is found, Lays there one passage that 20 Your arguments do confound. Jesu Kristi promised to never burden Man past the point he couldn't stand. Due to this one has no faith An they slay via one's own hand. 25 You'd have no faith through persecution, Only innocence and emptiness. Soul search inside, unnatural murderer, And of your sins confess. You never had faith and beliefs, 30 Only the enjoyable deceit, Which when you came under fire Proved you could take not the heat. Entertaining the notion is natural, The temptation of an weaken'd flesh. 35 Committing such only proves that ye And Jesus just don't mesh. 269

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Nigh Bouts Maybe. Possibly. Perhaps. What Follows might be sacrilege, Ergo I do not advise any To hang this upon the fridge 5 Door where the children Can read daily amidst munchies, Or rather the attack , and absorb Its contents near their scrunchies126 That hold the hair back 10 In pony tails and buns [I doubt they had such Technologie in the days of Huns.] Instead, keep it to yourself or in The pulpit where you scorn my name; 15 Regardless of the outcome I Intend to write this just the same: Perhaps the judgment nigh Coming quickly as a thief In the night was hurried 20 And carelessly displaced a leaf Or broke a twig making such a ruckus He was runoff, killed, or slayne. Maybe he wasn't a good one127 and Fell and tumbled and did sprain 25 His ankle and there he lies crippled With a broken neck unable to walk , Hearing less and less interest in him And more in “Jack and the Beanstalk.” 126 Near. . . scrunchies: in the mind 127 Good one: good thief 270

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Chapter XVII Sin Colored Glasses You're looking at my world In shock and in pain; Everything I do Seems quite insane. 5 But I see things In a much different light, Your strict and dull ways Are such a bland sight. To see as I see 10 Requires not classes, For my education comes With sin colored glasses. Shade your eyes From what's right 15 And let avarice be Thy guide through the night. I'm looking at the world In a sincolored way, But everything seems 20 As clear as the day. 271

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma She Wore Smiling Flowers She wore the smiling flowers In a dream so far away That wafted their aroma To trap me for this day. 5 It seems I don't know much About this girl and her ways, For I didn't pay attention While we were out to graze128. I should have maybe thought 10 Afore I said those words, But “I love you” seemed to fit Well with the chirping of the birds. Now what am I doing here Ending the pleasures of my youth129? 15 I still have yet to master The art of being uncouth. When the time has come to speak Objections before the world, Will I have realized 20 That I don't know this girl? 128 Out to graze: a comparison of cows chewing cud and courting 129 Ending. . . youth: getting hitched 272

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Dreaming the Sweet Dream She was dreaming the sweet dream When the nightmares did come, And in her sweet rest it seems She's thought about it some: 5 This stressful thirst to slake Could be done when awake. The banker was charged Such a high rate That the taxes ate 10 Away from his plate. His loss of interest rose And he decided to foreclose. The thinker thought And did think he was free, 15 But he was bounded As is the land by the sea; In the idealistic gloomy rains He found a way to break his chains. 273

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Silent Thief Silently slipping In on nights of fear Thieving that Which is most dear 5 Recurring thief Frequenting most nights Tossing and turning Living without lights Bringing foul minions 10 To torture you unknown A flash of the lights And they're gone. 274

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma A Banana Find ye a banana Stringless withal For if stringy it is All love shall fall 5 Find that fruit Which genuinely cares And reciprocation Of feelings it shares Find that yellow clover 10 And luckily happy ye shall be To find straightforwardness Plucked from a tree. Find that elusive banana But do search ye hard 15 A banana with strings Is the origin of lard130 Search for the strings Which oft' are subtly small May ye find the stringless one 20 May its integrity be your all in all 130 The origin of lard: a pig 275

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma The Truth of all Bananas The truth of all bananas Seems that they all spoil Making you and what was As worthless as soil. 5 The truth of all bananas Seems that they all have strings They'll cut you loose Once they've flown their wings. The truth of all bananas 10 Seems that they all deceive The peel a mask They wish you to believe. The truth of all bananas Seems that they all bruise 15 Inside or outside It's you who shall lose. 276

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma One Simple Blunder I saw what you tried to hide, But my memory has your tongue tied To the truth of your blunder Which has ripped the whole word asunder; 5 At least to me, a most important folly, Now can I let loose truth's volley. I saw what you won't admit, I saw it, and I heard it. But you would fain agree 10 To that blunder in front of me, For it was a mark of shame, And you have only your tongue to blame. Was I the only one to notice you compensate? It matters not, you were too late. 15 For now I know your devious lies, And now wonder what more missteps you've disguised. And if you would not look as a fool, You shouldn't have let your tongue rule. But tell me, and tell me now, 20 Were there missteps before, and how Could it be that one much better Than I could stumble o'er a simple letter? Think it possible that you too Are not perfect, as I am too? 277

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Real World In the real world No one knows anymore About themselves than Their life is but a bore, 5 Now in reality wolves Are chased by sheep; Natural orders are Only found in sleep. Consciousness is deceiving, 10 Thank heavens for dreams For that's the only locale Where all's as it seems. 278

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Fear The Fear the sight Lest ye see it Fear the sound Lest ye hear it 5 Fear the cold Fear the dark Fear the sound of a night stark Fear the being It entails pain 10 Fear the mind With its lies of being sane Fear the heart Fear the mind Fear the hope of mankind 15 Fear the night And the dreams it may bring Fear the bard And the signsongs he may sing Fear the storm 20 Fear the tale Fear thee, fear thee well Fear the thunder Or the lightning it brings Fear the quiet 25 Or the dangersong it sings Fear thee to give Fear thee to partake Fear the Fear that Fear will make. 279

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Fear Is Fear is emotion on high Fear is the idea to make you cry Fear is the taking Fear is the death 5 Fear is the joy of willbereft Fear is spawned in sinstained plans Fear is abstinent in no lands Fear is abundant Fear is here 10 Fear is the motivation of the deer Fear is is season Fear is in you hunting selftreason Fear is the hunter Fear is the prey 15 Fear is waking up each day Fear is insane Fear is a hindrance to the brain Fear is crazy Fear is smart 20 Fear is a taste in your mouth that is tart Fear is sadistic Fear is hitting and hurting from a distance Fear is felling Fear is strung in your heart 25 Fear is what bursts it all apart Fear is always Fear is never Fear is what you will never sever 280

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Fear In Fear in anger That you'll never see Fear in wrath That you'll never be 5 Fear in sorrow That you will suffer Fear in ague That pain has no buffer Fear in the limelight 10 That all will see Fear in the moonlight That no one there will be Fear in distance That you'll ever be apart 15 Fear in proximity That awkwardness will start Fear in time That the ticktocks bring you lament Fear in the coming 20 That the days will be turbulent Fear in death That you'll be sent to Hell Fear in demise That heaven won't ring your bell. 25 Fear in all Fear in nothing Everyone must fear something. 281

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Fear For Fear for the times Of the night when you sleep Fear for the times Will come for you to weep 5 Fear for you may not meet Sleep in your sordid dream Fear for you may meet The Promulgator of your screams Fear for the that 10 Fear for the this Fear for the fulfillment of things you don't wish 282

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Alien Nation Oh, what can save our alien nation? Oh, what can make it pure? For when none knows for what it stands, Then how shalt it endure? 5 Oh, what shall save our alien nation From the storms of other lands? Bringing over their muck and mire Serves to make goop from our sands. Oh, what shall save our alien nation; 10 It's tread the path of Rome? There seems no way to save the unwilling; Where shall I make my new home? Oh, what shall save our alien nation? It shan't have long to last, 15 For we've forgotten what it stands for, And our glory days have passed. 283

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Amnesia The world's catching amnesia At too slow a pace; There's still morals and Laws and religion and mace 5 To blind “them” from Anarchy's fulfilling emptiness. If a carte blanche131 the world Was, none could transgress Against the eternal commands 10 And the flimsier ones of man. I wish to be present At that moment, if I can, When this world's utterly susceptible And theoretically puppets under control 15 Of whomever in that deluge that washed Away all clung to flotsam of the soul Or jetsam of the corruptible Mind, would I be the only to Take advantage and do as I feel 20 While programming mobile statues? 131 Carte blanche: blank slate, empty of knowledge 284

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Pax Gaea Screw world peace! It'd make this world end. Pray not for it lest God's iron will should bend 5 And the few thin threads Of mercy that keep us mundane Should snap like the boom Of an overloaded crane. Turmoil must exist 10 Till my goals are met; Afterwards I'll pray with You until I forget. 285

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Voice of Temptation Listen to the voice of temptation Crying from the wilderness That there is too much work Involved in achieving success. 5 The voice will rob you Of your potential potential. The voice is us all; It is often me. “It is often I am in denial132.” 132 It. . . denial: it is often I, I am in denial 286

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Chapter XVIII Crime to Smile Is it a crime That I should smile? Is it a sin To laugh for a while? 5 Why should my joy Set you at unease? Why does my pleasure So displease? If I were to die 10 And never rewake, Of which two joys Would you partake? Joy that I was gone To an afar off better place, 15 Or joy to never see A smile light my face? 287

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma I'm a Wussy I'm a wussy But I don't care So what's your point? I'm a wussy 5 But that's okay I live my life Run from strife. I'm a wussy You steal my lunch And my fruit punch. 10 Wussy, wussy, wussy, wussy, That's the chide y'all emit I don't fight and I can't spit No girl wants to go out with me. 288

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Navy So this is what it's like When you sell your soul? I never understood And thought Faust a fool. 5 Do tell me how will I feel When I look back upon this day, And like Faust realize There must be another way? Don't speak to me of friends, 10 Because they just don't understand Why I was entrapped, Why I shook that hand. Half of them for me don't care, The other half hurt the me inside. 15 I saved my face and bit my tongue, But after the phone calls cried. I'm going full speed ahead In the gamble of my life, And I'll forget to call and write 20 And find the perfect wife. It may be that I'll go under For a few weeks or more, But when I rise I'll realize I'm just the Navy's whore. 289

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma The Jest And all the while the joke's on me, To laugh at mine own demise; For, though thou dost giggle now, There's naught but contempt in thine eyes. 5 And thou hast slain me with such A coldly apiercing stare, And I would be yet alive An you did but care. But I am in despair unwonted, 10 Since I'm ungainly in thy mind; And no need to tell me so, in The truth of your laugh this I find. But the jest shall continue On through wrenching anguish wry, 15 For an even greater joke would I be If my jest broke and I should cry. 290

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Laughter's Medicine “And I shall bust him in the nose!” “And I shall lop his ear!” The joy and delight they gained from this Was a tad bit much, I fear. 5 But yet they killed him not, They sent him not to the grave, For sport with him they mayst still have, And Laughter's medicine shall save. “And I shall off his foot!” 10 “And I shall prod his eye!” They laughed and laughed a little bit, They laughed hard enough to cry. But laugh as much as they would, Their means of health133 him hurt; 15 And what kept them alive and strong Eventually wed him to the dirt. 133 Means of health: laughter is rumoured to be the very best medicine 291

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Why I like Penguins Better There's a reason I like Penguins more than you; Penguins can't beat me The blackest shade of blue. 5 There's a reason I like Penguins more than thee, A penguin expects Nothing of me. There's a reason I've 10 Liked penguins from the start; A penguin, it seems, Has a heart. 292

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Slave Said my boy You're a slave You've no choice But to behave. 5 The world entraps Its helpless prey In chains that grow Tighter each day. How do you like 10 Having no choice, Being unrepresented Without a voice In the things That you care for, 15 As well as those You'd like to ignore? Matters really Rub the wrong way When you are given 20 No say. What do you want to do? Do you think you can Live less like a slave, More like a man? 25 Is it just enough To breathe, Or would you like To conceive134? 134 Conceive: think, not be impregnated 293

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Am I Nothing Then? Am I nothing then? An object to despise? A knave to abuse? A Fool to believe your lies? 5 Am I nothing then? Not e'en worth the wind to blow? Am I alive to you? Why set ye me thus low? Am I nothing then? 10 Only a toady used to flatter? Merely ground beneath your ladder? A soft stone to hear your tear drops splatter? Am I nothing then? Why direct thy thrusts to stab? 15 Will you cry for me? When will ye next jab? Am I nothing then? A bug with which to tinker and squish? Depart without the fulfillment of thy wish. 20 To you I'm repulsive as foully rotten fish. 294

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Little Girls Looking back On the way things weren't And on the friends and Opportunities spurnt 5 By the rashness of The worthless lust, Not to be one Of the famed busts135 Like Dante or Voltaire 10 Or Socrates or Plato Or any other Great man you know That stood for lofty Things in this world, 15 But for the attention Of little girls Content to yoyo My feelings And treat me like 20 A handful of shillings When they thought To do so best, And uplift, praise, And use the rest 25 Of the time Together spent Until my temper's Veil was rent And we departed 30 One glumly great day, I wish that I could not say That I obediently And haply obeyed 135 Famed busts: the plaster statues (shoulders up) of the great that are seen, if nowhere else, in Muppets' Christmas Carol and mentioned in Poe's “The Raven” 295

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma 35 An immature snot Because I was afraid To lose an under Classwoman sweetheart. I wish I'd known my 40 Feelings from the start. 296

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Bombardment How would we feel if our country was bombed Into the ashéd ruins of cratered pity? Would we have deadly wanted To be present in that city? 5 Would we experience agony, Apathy, despair, and rage Or an overwhelming amount of stimuli Too great for neurons to sensually gauge? I cannot speak for you; 10 I can only answer for I. Should I yet raggedly live, In the rubble I would cry To see rockgnashed friends Slayne by war they've not waged, 15 But, instead, by a distant Political heat they've been phaged136. Illegally, many heartless Chaotic price gouge, in anarchy loot. But these images bothered less 20 Than seeing bloodied friends covered in soot. 136 Phaged: devoured and destroyed 297

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Chapter XIX Spectacles for Love Love is blind As am I Blissed with an Astigmatized eye 5 Blinded to looks Blinded to pain Blinded to heartache Only joy remains I need no spectacles 10 To see That love is blinder Than you without me I only need love To lead me through the night 15 Trust in love and hope And not your sight Love needs only a way Which it will make Blinded blinded by you 20 In love do I take 298

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma A Million Miles A million miles from nowhere, Trapped inside your love; We go together as well as A lamp inside a glove. 5 It seems I am a lamp Whose fire others must not see, Because your oppressive love Is adept at smothering me. But the irony of it all 10 Is when I manage to break free, I long for nothing more Than for you to smother me. They say the grass is greener, Thus I desire to change my side; 15 Yet I remain miserable Whether I run to you or hide. 299

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Adam et Eve He's unsure how to act Should he continue or stop Confused he's thinking too much a lot. He must get back to her 5 This much is true Should he continue or stop. . . what to do? At a dilemma point of his life To disappoint or disobey But he keeps thinking and thinking 10 With naught yet to say. 300

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Loved Love is pain That never will flee Pressing your heart Against an Iron knee 5 Sadness entails What love won't fulfill Love is as empty As a placebo pill Mocking your hopes 10 Mocking your dreams Ripping your world Slashed down the seams Only fools fall in love Only fools want the pain 15 And, when they realize what they have, They've already gone insane. Downtrodden in happiness Pushed to and shoved Fell the sorrow 20 And know you're loved. 301

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Love Like Tow'ring Hands Tut, tut, they were immature. It Was love like a game of tow'ring Hands. But the way that they did fit Together was o'erpowering. 5 Almost anyone can mesh well A temporary stint of time, But it isn't love, should they tell Words good as those of pantomime— Meaning as much as saying naught. 10 Indeed it was a childish game— As love e'er is—in which they're caught; They'd barely known the other's name. It seems only children stack hands For domination and for fun, 15 Howe'er, such a childish game stands For their love's course since it's begun. They were green emotionally, In envy, and experience, Which might be why, ultimately, 20 Each played the part of a love dunce. It was a game without winner, Mindlessly pointless overall. They played the part of the sinner Quite oblivious to the fall. 25 They accelerated quickly Until the point they could not beat The simple facts of life. Sickly, They were destroyed by their heat. Love collapsed like the chant of a crowd or 30 Rhythmic intensity. It is a chore. 302

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma If If I could go back And never have cried, Would it be worth Not having you by my side? 5 If I could change time And alter its course, Could my meddling Only make things worse? If I could have stopped it 10 Coming and never have changed, Would I be better off Then or deranged? If I stop before I say, “I love you even more each day,” 15 Would it be easier for you To stray or stay? If I'm finished Before I'm done, Would you say 20 It was all in fun? If I could have Just one boon, Would you prefer to live On mountain or sea dune? 25 If I could have given Like you gave, Would that have been Enough to save? If I could have helped 30 And never had to look away, Would you be with me Here this day? 303

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Breaking Up I want to break something, Shall I break your heart? You mean nothing to me Thou wench, thou tart. 5 All that I've told you 'Tis but a grand lie. I think I'm happy To watch you cry. I feel elated, 10 You've made me smile. Your sorrow is my joy; I'll drink your tears for a while. Your cries and pleas are empty, But to my ears sweet. 15 This is the best part of our relationship; I like you here, groveling at my feet. I've used you and abused you And need you no more. I've taken all I want; 20 You've given me more. 304

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Regret If you and I Had never met, Then I'd have nothing To regret. 5 If you and I Had never spilt Harmful words, Then I'd have no guilt. If you and I 10 Had never shared Thoughts, then I Would never have cared. If you and I Shall never see 15 One another again, Then I shall be free. 305

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma And She Was Cr ying It was dark , And the light Was blinding me With visions 5 Of happiness. And I was moving, And she was crying, But I was moving On. 10 Unspoken voices Cry unspoken words. Why can't they hear What I feel, What I think? 15 And I was moving, And she was crying, But I was moving On. The despair 20 Of a burning hope Wrought miraculous Pain and Torment inside. And I was moving, 25 And she was crying, But I was moving On. In the perdition Of forgiveness, 30 I writhed In joy Unspeakable. And I was moving, And she was crying, 35 But I was moving On. 306

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma The silence Rang out loudly In a deafening roar; 40 They couldn't hear My unspoken words. And she was crying, And I was moving, But she was crying 45 On. 307

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma To Forgive I have no need to forgive You were in the wrong You used and abused me And I danced to your song 5 To you I meant nothing Only a new toy But I am glad That I gave you such joy You can say you love me 10 We both know you lie Those words are as empty As the tears you cry You don't want to give me up There's use for me still 15 But how could I be happy Knowing how you feel? 308

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Forgive I can forgive you But I'll never forget They ways that you've changed me The way your words hit 5 I can forgive you But I'll never forget How you treated me How you did neglect I can forgive you 10 But I'll never forget Mutual disappointment Since we first met I can forgive you But I'll never forget 15 The times you've made me cry The times you've made me fret I can forgive you But I'll never forget A fall from grace 20 A nervous sweat I could forget you If I could forgive But I'll remember how you changed Me as long as I live. 309

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Forgiveness You have nothing I want You mean nothing anymore Your words are hollow My heart's passed out on the floor 5 If I cannot trust Or believe what you do Why should I accept Forgiveness from you They say it's a sin 10 To fly two standards As such you transgress When you proffer those words Sorry is a word I'm not willing to hear 15 Pass the lips of you Whom I once held dear I know whom you are I know how you think I perceive the betrayal 20 Concealed when you blink Your eyes do beg Of me to forgive Yet how can I when Your betrayal does yet live 310

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma An Eye for a Cr y Crimson flood Atoning the sin Allying the doubt The fear 5 The end that had Drawn near Making all right Goodly and pure No more need to worry 10 This makes sure Till your sinful heart Sins again. 311

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Communicate You made my blood course, You made it pulse, But what at all Were the results? 5 You made me pant, You made me sweat, You even made Me forget Whom I was 10 What I'm here for, Everything I vowed, Everything I swore. Relationships can't survive Unless you communicate, 15 But I rather Find it great That we haven't talked For a spell. You know I never 20 Managed to tell You goodbye; I cut The lines between us. Now there is no relationship, No communication between us. 312

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Spastic It's great that you are spastic, A shame you don't know it. Your emotions are elastic, And make you seem childish. 5 Out of the blue You blow up Over things that are trivial; I wish you'd grow up. Is there something hidden from the eye 10 That causes you to fly off The handle and chronically lie To all those whom you curse? 313

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma No One No one say you love me, As did she, For I am unlovable; None should be with me. 5 Her actions it were That made me realize The lipservice she pledged To me was naught but lies. No one say you love me, 10 Let not that fell word fly! For its stings I can't handle, And I dislike to cry. 314

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma To all the Ones To all the ones I shall never kiss: You'll never have Me to miss. 5 To all the ones I shall never hold: You'll never regret That when old. To all the ones 10 I shall never harm: You'll never know That or my charm. To all the ones That broke my heart: 15 I should have known better From the start. To all the ones For whom I've cared: Thanks for the lives 20 In dreams we've shared. To all the ones That I despise: You've hurt me worse With your lies. 25 To all the ones That I've made cry: I'm sorry For any undue sigh. To all the ones 30 With whom I'll never be: You're better off To have never had me. 315

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Eulogy I'm dead, I'm dead I'm gone away Life's game No more I shall play. 5 The salt's all gone, The pepper's shook; But I fear my life's A closed book. For in the secret 10 Realms wherein I did stay, Many a disguised egg of hope I did lay. But their true yolks May be hid 15 'Neath the white lies Of a pickled lid. 316

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Chapter XX Loathe I loathe to visit You whom I loathe so dear For when I visit It seems like a year 5 I loathe to see your visage To hear you discourse I loathe to communicate And do it by force I loathe you dearly 10 I loathe you true I loathe no one As I loathe you. 317

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma How Do I Loathe Thee How do I loathe thee? With all the explosive energy That shaped creation From the indescribable void. 5 The greedy passion Of the galaxies gobbling One another up compares Not to how I loathe thee. How do I loathe thee? 10 As the tide snuffs The windgiving spin Of this axial earth. As the etching river Tortures the limestone 15 Over time's passage, Thus do I loathe thee. 318

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Cast Your Tears Cast your tears Upon the sea, But cast them not Upon me. 5 Cast your tears Into the air, For it alone Shall care. Cast your tears 10 Upon the sea, For water will With water agree. 319

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Eva Rhea Eva Rhea thinks she's in love, But love does not exist, And when she gives her life away For that, she will be missed. 5 Eva Rhea was once a pleasant Being as she was naïve. The horrors (truths) of life Was she unable to conceive. Love is only a delusion, 10 A ruse to acquire intimacy; Eva Rhea should have been spared The lies by living life promiscuously. 320

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Mute I'd like you better if you Couldn't talk or sing Or shout or curse or Scream at anything. 5 It only displays weakness To your voice raise, Yet you do it night after Night after endless days. It'd be nice if I could 10 Mute you when we're near. I'd never let you utter English or French137, dear. 137 French: oaths 321

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Souleful Compassion There are viri that have More of a soule than you And act with more of a Sparing and mercifully holy residue. 5 There are mummies out there With intuition who have more beauty Outwardly, than you have inside Where you're gunky and sooty. There are black holes out there 10 With more visible light Than there is in your tormented Mind where you keep all as night. My tennis shoes have more Of a soule than you'll ever find, 15 And I have run hundreds of Miles on them. I am unkind. There are storms on Jupiter, Saturn, and Neptune of less force Than your tempered blows 20 And tantrum's discourse. Of course there are songs By James Brown with more soul Than ever you'll have in the Emptiness that swallowed you whole. 322

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Malicious, But True She would not be Allowed to breed If my commands All did heed. 5 Because she's an attitude Who beat me up, She should be kicked And punched, clothes ripped up. Yea, she's a violently 10 Stupid girl who's wild And would definitely procreate A retardedly churlish child. Though she can't breed, She could inhale, 15 For I'd like her less blue Than now when she's pale. 323

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Paint Thinner Chips I didn't want to break your heart; I wanted to shred it instead And feel the warm slickness Oozing from tatters as it bled. 5 I didn't want to break your heart Unless liquid nitrogen was involved. Breaking it upon linoleum, I'd know the problem was solved. I didn't want to break your heart, 10 Just cut it out with138 a dull buffoon Who all the while sniffed paint thinner chips While braying donkeyishly at a sunken moon. I didn't want to break your heart; Such can be done with little ease. 15 I'd planned to snatch it out From the vantage of the knees. 138 With: in the company of, though the other might be painful :[|] 324

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma CurAid You are like a bandaid Hanging off my foot Where with full adhesiveness You I did previously put. 5 But now you are annoying, Attempting to cause me to stumble While idly you flap with step And silently do you thus rumble139. Like a brainless parasitical 10 Leech you are “there,” Regardless of my wishes and Feelings for which you don't care. You are even painful at Adieu when you say goodbye, 15 And with a jerk of hairpulling Pangs, you try to make me cry. You disturb my wound, When can you be gone? The only way that I shall 20 Heal is to do it alone. 139 Silently. . . rumble: even small and insignificant things make sounds, but humans oft' hear not 325

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Illegitimate Father Why should I claim you, Such an illegitimate father Who couldn't even be around Enough to not bother. 5 You were not meant to be A father, your actions speak , To a defect who calls himself Among other things, a geek. Like an illegitimate ruler 10 You have no claim to power Over and in my life—I am Eighteen—for even one hour. Like illegitimate offspring you Are disguised in secret bitterness, 15 If thine goals wert thine Departure, thou achieved success. Though you gave me a nobles' Birth, thou art not nobility. In my life ever you are a 20 Debilitating mark of humility. You are a bastard father With whom I never wish to be. Why should I acknowledge or give you Rights, an you could not be a daddy? 25 You can never inherit my love, Any affections, only scorn; The title of the untouchables Shalt be the only thine name to adorn. 326

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Chapter XXI ¡Wow! This is a great day In world history: Mexico had a revolution, Gasp, peacefully. 5 This was not the case with Santa Anna and the Spaniards before; Changes in power had always Involved death and bloody gore. But they've come up with a new 10 Concept to vote democratically. It only took two centuries to rub off From the borderland of the free. 327

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Hamiltonian Perversions Dictators have it right. Never create a liberal regime, As only troubles will result From implementing said scheme. 5 Governing the populous is best Done sans their interference And the media's and Congress's. It is unnecessary clearance. A strong central government 10 Is needed to enforce controls And keep them from developing Privilegeminded holes. Rights and liberties are privileges, Utilized only when bored; 15 Should they obstruct the correct Path, they should be ignored. The media is an appalling evil naturally Lacking a sense of remorse For the damages it inflicts 20 For profitable greed, of course, The press should be controllable. Censoring Should encompass more than prior restraint To manipulate for government's sake This snottily infectious taint. 25 Far away from war should it be kept; Battle's bloody and compelling To pity senses while the trees of Involvement's support it's felling. The media should, however, be used as 30 Propaganda by a leader with ambition. Giving it free reign and derisive powers Can make a term perdition. As the media the army should Abstain from battle so as not to be sapped. 35 But it should be available for ready use Whene'er a country needs to be slapped. 328

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Religious freedom should be their choice, But the office should be amoral. Preachers should keep their voice 40 In the pulpit and quit lobbying. Religion only cripples government With its ethical stupidity; A government should be unrestrained In its decision—IT should be free. 45 Extensive bureaucracy? Nein. Just some Justices in the Judiciary System who will the blows of Antiregimists skillfully parry. A cabinet is a must. 50 Every ruler requires advice; Blindly leading upon whim May prove to have a tragic price. To keep an Enlightened guise, people Must have freedom of religion 55 And, among a few other things, That to vote and of petition. The rights to arms and assembly Must, for safetysake, be eclipsed To prevent a group from nimbly 60 Trying to usurp in coup. Handguns are a source of death To thousands in that land where The citizens consider themselves Free and buy and shoot without care. 65 A government can't govern people When of freedom they're dead. Though they may storm/gripe/complain, It's preferred to what'd happen instead. Without readily available death, 70 Militias will be curbed and illegal, Which is appropriate as they are only Subversive threats to the regal. Criminal's rights should be no complication; What's wrong with illegal search and seizure? 329

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma 75 Letting criminals flagrantly transgress Is a weakness, I am sure. If you wish to curb crime, Then felons must be deposed. A real government erects no barriers 80 To make justice repose. A regime should just act And give its citizens the finger. Controversy and outrage shouldn't Make acts and decisions linger. 85 But though it may act with The general citizenry's consternation, It shouldn't make George III's mistake: Give the ruled an explanation. Be not surprised when the common 90 And stupid masses don't comprehend How the action was their godsend. God bless Alexander Hamilton. Give the vulgars a real reason To feel a sense of political inefficacy, 95 Act totally unrepresented as It seems to be in the land of the free Where the educated and wealthy are Mobilized and the rabble rarely vote Informédly or at all, except for those 100Whose choices the political parties tote. Democracies are no fun. One can't invade or take lands, Instead one must protect And make them friends. 105Nationalize as in Sweden and also Provide great social services through tax. As in Germany careertrack for college And vocation. Show no mercy for the lax. Further the people in any way, but don't let 110 Them overstep bounds for fear of salutary neglect. If government is sensibly ruthless with their fortunes In mind it will be disutopian, but perfect. 330

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Mercen Mercenaries seem to have been A lousy idea throughout history. Part of this stems from The abundant lack of loyalty; 5 They only fight for the money And wish not to meet demise. Why on earth should a servant Be slayne for an ill franchise? When the battle has come and 10 One side the other's defeating, Then the smartly paid help May be found retreating. If through these hands only your army can Be strong and you make them mates, 15 Then perchance they'll one day rule, And your head'll be on the gates. How much of the services in America Are comprised of mercenaries, as in Rome, Who enlist for money and education 20 And other reasons such as leaving home? 331

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Procreatory Success If at first you don't succeed, Be content without an heir. Life's too short and changing To be bothered with such a care. 5 You could learn from Henry VIII, The father of Edward the Sickly, Who caught syphilis from concubines And the marriages arranged fickly. He should have been content 10 With Catherine of Aragon. He was wed to her twentyfive years, Who cares about a son? The fruit of all his toil140 Died before he could be king, 15 After endless work of Beheading wives and divorcing. Luckily for his last wife she survived, Unlike the third one who'd died. Two and five were beheaded, one and 20 Four were why Anglicanism was tried141. Napoleon should've stayed with Josephine, the devouted, adulterously. For her lack of harvesting a son He was distraught distractedly. 25 He scorned the sister of the Czar, After his heartbreaking divorce. After his marriage to Princess Austria, Russia was angered, of course. This proved to be one of his undoings, 30 Though, as Henry, he was a Defender of the Faith. He saw the advantages of placating people, And religion can strengthen the golden wreathe142. Don't divorce for a dynastic heir, Only for love and lust. 140 Fruit. . . toil: Edward VI 141 Why. . . tried: divorce 142 Golden wreathe: the crown 332

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma 35 Don't stress yourself, dynasties Frequently end, as they must. 333

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Chapter XXII Sellout I can't wait Till I'm a sellout, And I cause Some to pout 5 By appealing to what The vulgars have found Popular and amusing, as Opposed to the profound. Nothing would be original; 10 It'd all have the same format. But only the fastidious Would care about that. But to be a sellout I'd need an audience 15 To dupe as if they Were in a trance. 334

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Brutally Honest Don't feed me lines Of cracklike lies About what I do. Please, do not disguise 5 Disgust and slash or Boredom with what I Have here written, for Even I hate most of this. Garbage comes to mind, 10 But not just for their songs. Do not build mine ego or 'gainst Yourself and God commit wrongs. By untruthfully proclaiming Majesty in mine works for 15 This is truly immensely shaming For the both of us. Enlighten me with the truth, As is your reader's part. But should ye inform, leave me the 20 Shred of my mind called the heart. 335

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma M. Poster Boy Shall soon I label Myself an impostor When the works of Those whom I did foster 5 Or inspire in creation Of new cataloging of ideas I peruse? Would then I Be just an empty fizz Of rhymes that keeps a pathetic 10 String of words from growing flat? When my comrades surpass me, Can I possibly live with that? 336

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Pr ivation There must be a tragic end To original perception outré143 That will culminate in Stressed redundancy one day. 5 What will I do when it's all been scribbled, And I'm a dry well, to say the least? Shall I bravely orienteer to Find myself in the Far East Portion of my mind? Until 10 Magnetically I return, Shall wizened144, boring rhetoric Be the toll of my sojourn? 143 outré: bizarre, eccentric 144 wizened: shriveled 337

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Concise Inter ruptions A collection of brief words And interrupted thoughts Is the prize which my Toil has sheepishly bought. 5 Though I'd not want To be the foolish bride That is married blindly To an sinister prize, I cannot help but to feel 10 Proud every three verses For capturing portions of passages My mental mind rehearses. I hope that not for brief words and Thoughts alone will my life be spent 15 When I can scribe no more And this soule hath went. 338

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma How Truly Weird It Is Others Can See My Words How truly weird it is My world others can see Through the sketchy words That paint it semilucidly. 5 “Kiss me on my scratchy chin” Is a phrase I currently enjoy. The massacred simple language I use is often a cool toy. What if I create mine own words, 10 Living languages must evolve, And English, unlike French, has no Set standards around which to revolve? What sense of luckless awe Allows me to survive by the choice 15 Of people who art not me blindly Happening upon my distorted voice! But how can I express In one limiting quatrain How anyone else reading 20 My thoughts does not seem sane? 339

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma The Zenith of Oblivion The success of my oblivion I shall never surpass, Should I scribe an epic For each lad and lass. 5 Oblivion is my acme, Zenith, and bounteous yield. In it the greatness of my Characters was developed and revealed. Compared to it all else 10 Lies as a barrenly fallow field. Nothing else could achieve Oblivion's universality; Everyone can attribute It to me. 15 Should even a few recognize Other works my pen doth decree, Oblivion's numbers grow daily As the flora in the lee. 340

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Disdain from Wittenburg Castle “It is easy to disdain from a sheltered place, But harder to shelter the place of your disdain.” I can attack your inherent flaws Because I am protected. With luck , you will change, As I have not projected. 5 And from a secure place in my soul, A speck tedious to locate, I sit 'neath a willow tree. I weep for you and agitate. I would shelter you from 10 This if I only could Disguise the barbs As satirists would. But then this assault would Have no satisfaction 15 By achieving an indignant Or hostile reaction. 341

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Hardly Deep I must extend my worthless Sympathies to those who misconstrued The signs around these murky eddies. What can I say but, “Sorry, dude?” 5 An arroyo is hardly deep In liquid, excepting in flood. But even creatures of aridness Can sting and draw forth blood. I'm sorry if somehow I've convinced 10 Anyone that I'm profound. It is quite the opposite, As you have hopefully found. 342

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Dialectal Sometimes language has such A simple beauty I care not What stringéd phrases I create As long as in their rambles 5 They are not caught up in brambles But with joined words they sate My aesthetic hunger with sounds Of calm glee, in my pronunciation, Which probably isn't copied 10 Exactly in any dialect's nation. 343

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma War y I'm wary of influencing any Like my would be facsimile, Who, though of differing experience, Often involuntarily mimics me. 5 With dark bitterness inside Of envy, anguish, and renunciation Comes discourse silently, though not at night, To further some provocation. Thus should be the way of controversy, 10 Sheltered in secrecy for the blinded naïve Who would some innocence lose. Assuredly I have no goals to make others grieve When they could be spared Of what I would have never dared 15 To with many have shared. 344

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Chapter XXIII Secret Agenda Man For those of you who know me not, I am Secret Agenda Man. I do things for a reason Or purpose whenever I can. 5 I may be misunderstood, But would you even know it? I go through life without emotion, Or perhaps I do not show it. My name, my name, it matters not, 10 What matters are my thoughts; Those have been encrypted in Incoherent alcoholic draughts. 345

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Meticulous An145 I am meticulous, What trespass do I commit? None I say, for in this caution Lays safety, this you must admit. 5 Unless great wrong is hereby done In plotting for my benefit. An I weave loopholes, What's the evil in escape? None I say, for it is my future 10 And mine alone to shape. Escape and death are the future, At least in my view, And death comes in many shadows, And it could be you. 15 To stop planning an escape Is to invite some death, So I shall be meticulous Till ye pilfer my breath. 145 An: if 346

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma I Wish I Could Say No I wish I could say “no,” But I don't know how, And wind up pushed around Like a tipped cow. 5 I wish I could say “no,” But it always turns into “sure.” I wish I spoke that word Many times fewer. I wish I could say “no,” 10 But instead I'm getting used. I really wouldn't mind that much If I, this fault, wasn't abused. 347

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Whispers There's nothing like whispers To make me lose my temper. It's not nearly as annoying To whine, grovel, and simper. 5 Whispers are ungodly, I'd prefer to cut your tongue out Before you transgressed at night; Why can't you just shout? I would gladly slay the world if 10 I thought all whispering would end. But it would only return To haunt with whispers again. 348

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma W Turn Off the Lights When I turn off the lights, Will I still be the same Person that I always was Regardless of the name? 5 There's a certain bit of dread That results from not knowing. Ever in the dark this Fear continues growing. It's hard to find a way 10 When one must grope about In the pall of confusion Descended to breed doubt. 349

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Retrograde Amnesia Sorry for interrupting, love, no Intentions were of being impolite, But I was spurred to thought By a sound or various sight 5 And was unable to mentally restrain Myself from blurting this out In the middle of your comment. I'll abstain If possible in the future, but Only if you'll forgive 10 Me for making conversations Sound as if on anesthesia. I doubt the exchange would have Been as lively when my thought Was lost to retrograde amnesia. 350

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Grade.Average How does it feel to drive Someone away from the Places they once played All because of a grade? 5 It feels like cellophane And the perfect diet; I lose the weight of friends Though I eat right. The more I exercise, 10 The less I grow socially fit; I'm now a power house, and for Their GPA they're scared of it. 351

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma It Started In December Somewhere in this storm I must Search and conquer, divide and destroy. Winds rage and howl more fiercely For moments of importance and joy. 5 Did it begin with a gentle breeze? Alas, I do not remember. Was it a perfect storm? No. Well, it started146 in December. An unknown mist is ever present, 10 Blown ahead by the breeze. Perhaps it is the only storm147 That can be quelled with ease. 146 It started: I was born 147 Storm: life 352

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Some on My Eighteenth Year What does it mean To lose eighteen years? Does it mean I also Lose etching fears? 5 Does it make my eventful Life a waste or two, Since there are deeds I cannot Ever possibly hope to redo? Can that loss make me a man 10 In more than a numerical way? I still feel as lost and alone As I did yesterday. Can it hide me from Figures of my history, 15 Memories, guilted bliss, And the preadult me? What could it possibly do besides Make me ponder an hour or two Over how and for what I've changed 20 This miserable life through? 353

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Pods for Transportation I don't drive To be free of the guilt That washes over My soul like the silt 5 From the floods of the Nile From passing one stranded Because of the fears Of any blows landed To borrow my life 10 Or pilfer my vehicle. Fear and intentions Put me in a pickle. I don't drive to preserve The life of another; 15 Drinking's not required to separate One from their mother Of sickness, disease, and corruption Some blandly label earth. But accidents of no kind 20 Are filled with mirth. Why drive when you Could travel by pod And feel the moist Bounciness known as sod? 354

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Always the Exception Always the exception, Never the rule; Never the matador Always the bull. 5 In peace The only one to die; In love The only one to cry. If the battle 10 Were half done, Then to the other Side I'd run To tell them It has just begun. 15 Always the exception, Nature's joke. Laughter is the thought I seem to invoke. Always the exception 20 To life's laws; In me Nature has invested All its flaws. 355

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma I Never Claimed I Was I never claimed I was Whatever it was you decided, But your cruel assumption Has my spirit slighted. 5 I never claimed I was A hero, dashing, daring. Yet, you drag me into a rescue Just because I'm caring. I never claimed I was 10 A genius that is smart, Yet you've blatantly Told me so from the start. I never claimed I was a god— I'm rather more of a lemon. 15 But if it matters, I am his gift to women. I never claimed I was Santa; Are you calling my friends short? If I had flying reindeer, 20 I'd hunt them all for the sport. 356

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Meaningless Depression For months I sank into a meaningless depression, Angered at the world and fate, And seeking mainly for regression To a time when I enjoyed life. 5 But there was a vacuous pleasure Derived from this selfinflicted faux pain. It led to an addiction to this, As opposed to a life that was only plain. For no true reason, other than for joy, 10 The sun became my deep abyss to flee, All light abomination; Depression a toy Employed to feign enlightenment. Why did I quit my pathetic game? Did I grow weary of being drearyhearted? 15 Thankfully the days whence I Pointlessly burdened life have departed. 357

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Dead People I hate dead people; They always catch me in an awkward place, Only to gloat in seeing A startled look on my face. 5 It's not that I hate them all, only Those who abuse their powers as a ghost To use me as a conduit. Those I hate most. 358

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Spellings A basic misconception That deluded me a decade Was the fruited bitterness An uninformed ignorance made. 5 Though I greedily learned Fantastic foreign alphabets, There was a simple truth My mind could not get. No languages had I learned, 10 Just the idiom's phonemes. I was not a bit closer To my multilingual dreams. The spellings of words assuredly Have no direct translation. 15 The spelling of “foot” is “Pie” in that Spanish nation, And πιε in Greek would not Maintain the same denotation. 359

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Depths of Dubious Deception I am the most profound Shallow fake that I know, And I'm hoping that this Aspect will in me grow. 5 It's great to spout nonsense Unquestioned by the masses Who would read more into it, As if they'd the right glasses! It's soothing to profess 10 In an openly veiled guise. If one asserts mistruth's False, is't still counted a lie? O, how great it is to have some Thing in which I cannot excel, 15 Such as my running, much derided By those who enjoy doing well. 360

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma GroundLovers I don't seem tall, You all seem short, As if it were the love Of ground you did court. 5 But, though I am two yards In measurable physical height, When I gaze down upon my feet I am rather confused by the sight. If standing, I reckon my height 10 To be about three measly feet, But I resume the fullness of stature When, oddly, I recline in a seat. Perhaps our characters shrink When we stand upright, 15 But I'm satisfied in this light; All shrink proportionally And therefore in relation Our heights remain the same As they were in that time 20 Before upon our feet we came. 361

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Inkéd Blood's Transpiration I murder pens, It's a darkly evil crime, But I frequently Do it all the time. 5 Slowly I drain them of Blood as black as ink. It would be more than Torture if I did drink. But in all honesty, 10 I confess I chew Thoughtfully in ravenous pondering Upon the fleshy, plastic tissue. 362

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma No One Ever Notices I lose me when others Have gathered round And a member of group Thought have I been found. 5 None can perceive the mask Presented calmly to society Which differs occasionally Only by expression. I am me When alone only, if even then. 10 Masking subconsciously myself Is a regrettable sin Which compulsively happens sans Temptation or thought spontaneously. From this surely few are free. 15 I am unsure of which identity To above all be true to. Truly It's a sad predicament, As is my tendency to be used By others since my inability 20 To refuse is often abused. I'm not too sure if I mind After the point when done completely, Since the greedy and faux Praise and thanks result in glee. 25 Also, I've got lusty ears That listen for the most part, Excepting for the omnipresent Sadsob tales of a broken heart Which I am tortured with 30 Against my wishes in their despair. Again it is not noticed that I share no sympathies or care. 363

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Ireun My mouth no longer makes the Correct sounds to pronounce iron; In my mind I hear it sound Similar to the name Byron. 5 Yet, each time I say it, Nasty Southernness seeps through. Naturally, it sounds as írenuh And consciously as írun. I cannot say it despite what I do. 10 Among other words I mutilate In the efforts of trying to speak Is the bothersome one “human” which Oft' induces me to interject “Freak!” 364

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Myself Myself, I am as an old shoe: Worn out and broken in. I also have a tongue, and Misty148 says I rarely grin. 5 My soles are beaten thick , Though not as grassstained As when my feet went unclothéd Ever outside, e'en when it rained. I suppose the hitchhiking parasitical 10 Stickers upon my feet performed surgery And scarred them with calluses; Dr. Booker only left me a “z” Upon my right foot's bottom After kindly removing toes 15 Of tumouredly increased length having The webbing that a frog grows. The two nailless joints of the same Size as my pale foot's thumb Are only a few of the defects 20 Which prove my biodad dumb Or evil, as I would tend to believe, As sins are rumoured to be paternally Inherited. Though I love kids and A dozen I desire, iniquity 25 Hampers the making of a congregation Useful for yardwork and playing baseball; I wouldn't want to burden them With defects or sins at all. My toes were hacked. Was 30 It to make me more understanding With the crippled and handicapped? Or was it a test of my withstanding Of jibes and insults and criticisms? Was it for firmer footing upon which to stand 35 For my thoughts and passions and others? 148 Misty: Misty Reynolds 365

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma My right hand's larger than the other hand. Was this accomplished for me to grasp Asymmetry and the toils of inequality? A “perfect” nose149 had I before an 40 Youthful accident changed its identity And branded it with a scar of “L.” For misdiagnosed polyp, I nearly lost smell. Now am I unable to pick at another's nose. Is this to enable me to sniff out woes 45 Of others and cast them to My twisted canal of an ear Which easily retains water and as A child was oft' infected, I fear? Is this excess length of maze 50 To block and trap sinful gossip Or to enable the hearing of that Which others keep bottled up? Alas, my teeth have conspired against Me in order for me to miss 55 What I truly don't need but Want, namely, a kiss. An eye has astigmatism, Is it to see? My tongue once rolled up, 60 Was it for secrecy? I still cannot talk , but I stutter and stammer alright. It's such a brutal pressure It's driven me to write 65 [Excessively.] These defects must Have a purpose. Could it be To be mindful of each person And to trap myself within me? If I am defective as a recalled 70 Product, can I justly slander Anyone else with flaws? I seem To be much as a salamander: 149 Perfect nose: I had rather thought it so 366

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Slimy and unwanted and despairing as I drown myself 'neath the dark 75 Rocks of burdens and work while Happy couples skim the surface in a bark. That's not to say I'm jealous, For I breathe through my skin, And the joyful chemical of companions 80 Would I gladly take in. It's nice to know some can be content, Though every perfect couple's flawed. Just the same, loneliness has This salamander gnawed, 85 And it yearns for the empty Calories of epithumial sugar's150 meal. I eagerly dine, sadly, in retrospect, For when I could have had veal. Though a salamander's skin is mucous, 90 Don't consider it snotty or a snob; It is merely a misunderstood and Listening and lonely blob. And, me, I don't like myself, I'm a sucker for selfdeprecation. 95 Constantly do I gloat In its painful application. Call me a masochist; I've Been called worse before. But don't be deceived when 100Taunts I seem to ignore. But back to the old shoe metaphor From which I've seemed to wander, My soule is often beaten And of it once I was fonder. 150 Epithumial sugar's: lust's 367

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Packaging Peanuts [Safety] I am a pack rat In most aspects I discover when myself I lazily dissect 5 To analyze the mannerisms And occasionally driving motivations That guide me into or provide Escape from circumstantial situations. History pains me with its 10 Gaps, as in some girls' teeth. People constantly reinvent the wheel Instead of merely a wreath, As knowledge is lost or destroyed— What a naggingly painful thought. 15 Irony would be the destruction Of this poem I have wrought. 368

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Without a Mind's Eye I can imagine I As many various things. Yet, despite concentration No sights does my mind bring 5 To the mental forefront Of darkness, each eye shut. Perpetually blinked I see strange colors, but No form's definition 10 Dances e'en wispily, Though I attempt futilely To force my dreams mentally. Picturing images in Books has ever been through words, 15 For though I grasp the concept, No scenery to it girds. 369

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Amoebic Pseudopod Teammates have real feet used To attain speeds quite fast. But, lacking these I oft' Finish quite dead in last. 5 By loving grace was I Created by the God Who saw not fit to form True feet but pseudopods. I suppose it's better 10 Than moving by filament, As others who do naught Whilst I race with my knees bent. 370

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Infallible I am no Pope, ergo Y'all can criticize The failed attempts of My pathetic, meagre tries. 5 Catholic can I not claim to Be, nor the Bishop of Rome. The Vatican, though close in size, Is not the city of mine home151. My first name is not Alexander, 10 And I'm not language's master. Truth be told, I'm more of A threat or unnatural disaster. My diction is common, unflowery, And unlofty as plain white plaster. 15 Simple are my conceitless schemes, And I'd be neither152 e'en in dreams. For, though either way I'd be close to God153, I'm certain I have the very best bod154. 151 City of mine home: Pelham, at that time 152 Neither: the Pope or Alexander Pope, a deceased literary genius 153 Close to God: one's a religious leader, the other's dead 154 I. . . bod: It is not decayed or agédly wrinkled at the time of this writing 371

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Chapter XXIV Doors Everything is a door, Behind unswitched lights That are hiding Various new sights 5 That morph. You won't Be quite the same As once you were before Through that door you came Into a new plane that 10 Your identity scars. Each new door gives higher rank , Adds another bar Of arrogance to How/what you see. 15 Sometimes rank will change With whom you wish to be. 372

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma A Valediction: Truth I have become My own, And biases My life has sown. 5 You the truth, The fact, By biases displaced, By opinions made to react. There are two sides 10 To every story, Then there is you. You never more shall I see. With my desires, I become blind 15 To the truth; Bias is all I find. 373

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma A Valediction to Innocence Where have you gone, All that I once held sure? Why is it that Innocence shan't endure? 5 But with age Comes the power That is knowledge; washing You away in a shower. Happiness and peace, 10 Contention in life, Replaced with your loss By an unending strife. You left me void; I must decide what to do. 15 Wisdom at one hand; Consequence in the shoe. 374

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma A Valediction: Forbidding Morning Fare thee well, Sweet slumber. But on earth dwell Not, bright morn; 5 For you bring the end To the passing of spirits Which have no way to defend And only spirit me off. They leave me in lands 10 Of sweet peace To walk the soft sands Of dreams. But come not, fell morn, Nor you, rending dawn, 15 Or the sun you adorn With pink skies. For you come at night As a thief, to steal The dreams at their height 20 Silently. 375

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma To What Was: a Valediction I am no longer what I was once deemed; What was me is gone, As is all I dreamed. 5 The icy hands of change have Firm grasp upon my vapors, And futilely should I pray During evening's vespers. Into the dusty bowels 10 Of a painful oblivion, Living on in the drugged Contrasting memories155, I went. The empty shell of My existence was filled, 15 And the stuff of my stuffing Proves unpleasant to taste. And I yearn for a bite Of what was once before, But what was went into the night, 20 And I'm sending farewells from the door. 155 Contrasting memories: no one will remember me perfectly, and contradictions will arise 376

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma It's the Goodbyes That Count Why is it we struggle for Fame and immortality? For, in the end, all will be Forgotten, lamentably. 5 Some carve one's name to etch out A permanence that will give The world and generations a Reminder that once one did live. But why fret over a lasting name 10 When everything will be destroyed? Oblivion at the world's destruction Can neither Shakespeare or Plato avoid. Perhaps to spite this, we humans Attempt to try to have fame? 15 But renown upon this earth Is meaningless and a shame. When ev'rything must be forgotten in Order for the next generations to Have a feeling of desolation and 20 Accomplishment, just as with me and you. Thus, thoughts are meaningless, since none Are original, but have been Shared by generations who have Died, as we all will in the end. 25 The only controllable things Are our eked out lives, after all, Since we cannot control how we will be Remembered, if, indeed, we are at all. It would be well to make the most 30 Of this power and cultivate Friends, acquaintances, and Envy, greed, love, and hate. But be sure to set things aright when At the end of associations, 35 For it's been said a dying man May at the end take salvation 377

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma In the last hour, no matter the Actions. There is hope until it's gone With one and the faretheewells 40 That will render one alone. If one should ever wish to live, then Memory is such a crucial key. Like the Ghost of King Hamlet, One's actions must cry, “Remember me!” 45 How can one be assured A life in recollections? I say it's not best done Through wealth and perfections, For people recall most vividly 50 Births, funerals, and separations And forget the bulk of life's Events' conglomeration. And because we'll ne'ermore be as We all are here at this right now, 55 We should honour and make the most of The occasion before saying, “Ciao.” Wish you all luck and happiness And truly hope you will have found That, though together we may have grown 60 For a time, it's the goodbyes that count. 378

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Dark Blue In the dark blue156 Seas will I sail, Who tided islands Thoughtlessly impale. 5 Winter is symbolic Alway of death, Soon of black uniforms, And, of course, frozen breath. Truly a great thing 10 That hue must be, If it is, as it seems, Destined for me. Any sorrow's for The rutted life left behind, 15 As any fear is for A new one to have to find. 156 Dark blue: The Navy 379

Here Marketh the Endeth of the Poesy and the Beginneth Of Prose W O R K S including short stories, thoughts, lists, a deliberate double negative, advice, quotes, and blah. This section is dedicated to Mrs. Grace Buck Because she encouraged me to start writing Again. Thanks. Sorry if this section is not Worth of you, Mrs. Buck.

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Chapter XXV Bananas It is generally recognized by scholars that bananas are the source of all evil. Their imperfect creation, for they contained strings, led the most mighty Lucifer to delusions of adequacy. As a few of us have been imparted with the knowledge of what next happened, it becomes of the utmost im portance to speak no more of Satan's fall but of Eve and Adam. Eve was in a garden and had just been quite let down by a banana, or, more specifically, its strings. Lucifer, sensing an opening, was apt to proffer the apple, as it is commonly acknowledged subconsciously. The apple was a most per fect and stringless fruit; the desire for perfection outweighed a trespass against God's command ment. Modestly do I propose to end the terrors of this world through that plan which I shall now disclose. Petitioning of Our Lord God Almighty should commence immediately. He cannot easily ig nore the cries of the troubled. Like any ruler, He derives His power from the popular and sovereign common folks. Working in prayer together shall we convince Him to scrap the world and all other planes, start anew from scratch, and this time create a perfect banana. After all, one mayst do any thing in faith. 381

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Bananas Revisited It seems that only scholars and infants are in possession of capabilities enough to understand that bananas are the source of all evil. “Evil,” what is associated with this? Surely the fall of Lu cifer. On the seventh day while God yet rested, Lucifer was exploring heaven in all of His glory. The Lord had seen good in all things, and, indeed, the bananas were good but yet imperfect. The tiny strings inside were revealed to Satan. Lucifer, as he was then called, was taken with wild fantasies upon learning of this fault in creation. Bananas were indeed the inspiration 157, and, as such, are the root of all evil. 157 The inspiration: of the war against the Throne 382

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Messy Breakup The silence was broken by only a beep. Then, another followed quickly, as if 'twere an echo. On its heels, the light crept into mine orbs. 'Strange,' thought I, 'Sight hasn't seemed to grace me for a while.' With the next quick , onomatopoeian beep, turned I my head slowly. The room was empty except for an mortal or two and some pseudoflowers. Having little better to do and being yet too lethargic from sleep to stir, I began to study the fig ures. Namely, the masses of tissues happened to consist of a slightly balding man in his middle ages and a lady in an white outfit who bore a needle as an implement of war. Drawing dangerously near, with it she smote me and consciousness fled as the needle, a heroinaddict's158 best friend, sank into my IV. When I awoke possibly much later, the lady was gone. The man was present yet, hunched slightly over, and countenanced with a look of sorrow that melted across his steely brow. “Why so glum, stranger?” I asked the curious looking chap. Then, the more important question proceeded, “Why the devil are you in my bedroom?” The realization of his acquaintance flooded my frail mentality when, alack , he unfolded himself to his full height. Ah, of course, he is the father of my bonnie girlfriend. Was the father of my ex girlfriend, rather. Unpleasant laments of memories my weak mind taunted in a deluge as large droplets upon a tin roof. Only a snatch of his prose communication did I catch. “An eulogy, you say? Well, I suppose I could. You might have to help me up, though.” A crisply overclouded morning later, stood I in attendance at her graveside funeral, where tex tured and clay red heaps of earth were strewn about in decoration. The small crowd was silent, no doubt due to the awkwardness of speaking when an apology is the only phrase which can be ut tered. Her father nodded to me, and I hoped my voice would come. I began. “You were a person, may God rest your soul for that alone. My happiness you engineered. My worthless burdens of cares and troubles in your presence were insignificant. In you many found an escape to which'd be called happiness, and you are ascended to an afar off better place, now. We all love you.” Some of the throngéd nodded in assent. “I love you, even though you happened to slaugh ter my family, almost slew the one called I, and offered up yourself. You were a special person, and your desire was only for united assembly there in heav'n. I just never realized how much you loved my family before. But you were always thoughtful, caring, and overly loving. You produced the only perfection which mattered, the gainliness of all. Had I not survived the precious gift of your injuries, I would be in company with you celebrating and psalming. “But I should not grieve your passing or that of my family. You would not have wanted that. Indeed, your actions expressed an eagerness to have me with you ever. I'd like to think within delu sions that that was to make my present grief over you unnecessary.” I know it's not a great eulogy, but I'd prefer that you'd cut me some slack. I'd only been out of 158 Heroinaddict: an abuser of heroin, a drug that kills, especially artists 383

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma the hospital for a day, and three days prior and attempt had been made upon mine now empty life. Afterwards, when the clay entombed her temple 'neath a mound which would later depress, her fa ther and I grabbed an Ensure. Thus fortified, we, like men, cried ourselves to sleep. 384

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma High School Love My Dearest, Is there a burning passion within or without your heart perhaps wishing that we were just slightly more than friends, or are my sympathetically aligned emotions sown in the bloody fields of a barren heart? From the length and breadth of my soul, however deep that might be, I wish for nothing more than for us to be just slightly more than friends. With your consent, we could be happy and do the same old things together! We could have penguins together [the little ones with yellow fur, if you and any other readers don't mind.] We could talk about all the same old things, exactly as we've always done. We could flirta tiously glance with a secret knowledge that we were just slightly more than friends, and, maybe if I am lucky, I can give you a piggyback ride. I could call you mine, and you would be. For at least a tiny part of your brain would belong to me for what it felt. As would any hormones that may or may not cause your heart to race faster when I go near, even should this be attributable to your run ning like an ostrich the other way. When thinking of my high school experience, I could look back upon our justslightlymorethanfriendship and romanticize that you were my high school sweet heart. Furthermore, when asked about the love of my life by a college dormmate, I could take a sigh, raise my head, and look him in the eye to say, “Mine moved on to greener pastures, though she'll eventually realize dry hay is for what she yearns.” All night could I stay awake and wonder if you were or were not thinking about me, what you were or were not wearing, and what you were or were not doing at that nocturnal moment. Every time I would perceive the stars through this haze of love or hear any random song that you may or may not have liked, I could sigh, as any romantic should, and think of you. In only ten years could we reunite at our high school reunion. Perchance we could waltz in connected to each other's arm. But it is highly unlikely, since you will not even go to prom with me. Oh, do not fear that being slightly more than friends would obligate you to go to prom with me, for, truly, we would still just be slightly more than friends. Truly yours, Yours truly No One in Particular 385

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma High School Love: 2 My Dearest, To my attention has it come that you have been rather reluctant to go to prom with me. While the sheer reason for this hesitancy still eludes me, I do hope that you might change your mind. IF YOU LIKE LISTS: The Top 3 Reasons To Go To Prom With Me: 1. Wes has the strangest rash. 2. Green is not my favorite color. 3. You love me. 4. My finger you broke. 5. I can count. IF YOU LIKE POETR Y: Roses are red, Violets are blue, And I really want To go to prom with you. Or Elvis died on a golden stool, And if you think he's a fool, Then I am but a fool for you, And your eyes that are not blue. And it would surely break my heart If, when prom does start, You were not upon my arm With all your beauty and some charm. IF YOU PREFER PROSE: Well, it seems I've got to convince you to go to prom with me. Why, you are the only thing I know of that could make the night special. But, if I know you, praising your beauty will not work , and 386

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma neither will bestowing grand epithets upon your name. Instead, I'll threaten you, my dear. If you do not accompany me to prom, I will implore your mother to make you. I might even entreat her to fill your unfillable place in your absence. You know I'll do it. If You Want An Explanation Of Why I'd Rather Have You Than The “Others”: ●Danyall is too young and could not even hold a flame thrower up to your bright light. ●Laura contracted the rash from Wes. Ick. ●Your mom doesn't run from or sick dogs upon me. ●Marcus is taking Laura already. ●You make me feel like Ebola inside: warm and tingly. 387

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Death Rides a Green Bicycle The blistering sun presented shimmering waves of heat into the open arms of the Mexican desert. The scalding sand was too harsh for most animals and surely all mortals this day, and yet, across the arid land rode a figure. A black figure, in this climate, black!! Slightly hunched over the handles of a green Road Master, he rode diligently onward. To the normal observer, this eccentric figure would be strange enough. Yet, upon a second look's passing, it all became a tad bit more disturbing. The waves of heat did not shimmer this person's figure as a mirage. Indeed, it seemed to desist at first contact with is blackness. The normal ob server would have been intrigued, upon further observation, at the lack of dust of any amount which he disturbed. But, then again, the normal observer would not observe him for many more years. On through the undisturbed sand and desert brush rode this welldefined being. In a matter of moments, he had biked the distance that a cheetah would need many minutes to cross. On this mer curywinged biker rode. Presently, this mysteryshrouded oddity arrived at a shoddy leanto. Pedal ing around the back , it found a sunbaked man lying on the ground, gushing his life's blood, and otherwise out of it. Dismounting, he reached out with an emaciated hand ominously. The stranger's eyes shot open. “Me llamo Muerte.” “Your name isn't Death,” replied the wounded man, in a surprisingly healthy tone, despite his condition. “Oh, it isn't is it? What would it happen to be, then?” queried the blackgarbed figure with his most proper Spanish sarcasm. “I do not know, but it isn't death. You do look like him, but any fool can purchase that attire.” “Look closer. Then, notice that my attire keeps the heat from my body,” replied Death<?>. “Bah, I don't believe you, but do come in. Mi casa es su casa.” With that the wounded man rose to his feet, walked knockkneed back to his leanto, opened the door, and made a gesture to Death to follow. When they had both entered, he shut the door and sat down upon a vegetable crate. “Why do you doubt my credulity?” queried he whom had announced himself as Death. “Well, for starters, I'm still alive.” “That can be taken care of.” “And another thing, why are you talking to me? Shouldn't you have just grabbed my soul and run?” “That would have been rude. Besides, I bike. Mind if I have some water?” “That stuff will kill you,” replied the Mexican. 388

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma With a rather patronizing look , Death took a dusty glass and filled it with the dustier Mexi can water. “Now, as I was saying, that would have been a rude action. My duty is not only to collect souls, but also, in part, to inform you, the deceased, of which stupid mistake(s) led to your demise.” “And mine was?” “Probably the stupidest one I've ever encountered. Did not your mother warn you of playing with Mexican fireworks?” A conceding grunt was the only reply. After a few moments, the situation's paradox finally oc curred to the deceased. “How is is that, be you Death, you can stand here and talk to me, and such? Aren't there thou sands dying every second? I mean, I feel honored and all, but isn't there someone else you could go bother?” “You see, my mere mortal, I am immortal. As such, I can create my own time system, much like railways159. In effect, I could stay here with you as long as I wanted, which isn't long at all, mind you. Yet almost no time whatsoever will have passed in the place where the demised feel it matters. In this manner, take I my vacations and breaks. Could your simple, illiterate mind imagine how in credibly depressing it would be to see corpse after cadavre every second of the day and never get any rest or relaxation?!” Death actually shivered. “Hmmn. I suppose so. But what's with the bike? I've always heard tale that 'Death rides a pale horse.'” “It's a common misconception. It should be 'Death rides a green bicycle,' but there's nothing to do about that now. You see, my subject, it all happened only a few centuries before you were cre ated. In memory of my excellent service, the Lord had presented me with a unique white Arabian mustang, license plate DHW257. Out of Christmas Day gratitude160 I decided to use it the next time duty called. It just so happened that the next deceased was a scholar of some sort, and he was taking pains to scribe. He had seen me through the window of his cell, stiffly riding my jouncing steed. He immediately began writing of me, and when I had snatched his soul, he had written, 'Death rides a pale horse.' What he had originally meant to scribe was 'Death rides a pale horse, badly.' Since then, I've found the time to clear up the misconceptions and to be courteous. I do not snatch souls anymore.” “But bikes have only been around for a century or two, and only a few decades in my country.” “My master is AllPowerful, AllKnowing. He has “your” technology long before you do, much like the governments of this world. Do you have nay other questions?” “Why do you need the water?” “It is a demonstration of the power of my shroud.” With that, he poured the infected water over his cloak. At least he attempted to drench that 159 Much like railways: time zones were created because of railroads needing to have an accurate time so that they would stay on schedule from location to location 160 Christmas Day gratitude: using something once and tiring of it immediately afterwards. 389

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma opaqueness. The water itself hovered about an inch from the shroud and cascaded downwards161, marking his supernatural forcefield and its bounds. “Most impressive, Death.” “Ah, you believe. Those will be your last words. I know you've always wanted to see the face of Death!” With that melodramatic communication, he flung his hood from off his head, and the Mexican was entirely freed from the bonded shackles of humanity. Truly, the face of Death is personal, and not a static, bony visage. It instead is the likeness of that which we love or despise most. Indeed, it is a most appropriate way to dispatch people to ei ther heaven with a pleasing face or to Hell with a nightmarish apparition. The question now con cerning the Mexican is, did his screams issue from the fires of Hell or at seeing his exwife up close and personal? 161 Cascaded downwards: water has a tendency of doing such 390

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma A Tall Smooth Shaft In the dark and putrid waters the orc swam. The dark tower was ahead. Swimming about the exterior, he finally found the door. Carefully he opened it a crack , while placing his body completely behind it. This was not for fear of a squeak , but for fear of the possible magic traps rumoured to be found about the place. Hesitantly, his head he moved into a position to peer into the dank recesses. He sniffed and waited for his eyes to adjust. Glancing around, he saw only the walls of gray slate marred with darkly gilded patterns. This did not settle well, the emptiness; his fixed stare was analytical of each detail now. There was a guard, of sorts, indeed. The aging armor he wore that blent in well with the walls was no protec tion in his sleep. Gently, with strong black hands of stone, the guard was muted and strangled. Above was the treasure vault, but no stairs were to be seen. Hostilely picking up the dead sentinel's body, the orc sought out some form of transit to the next floor. Groping along the wall, a set of pat terns collapsed mushily; it was most likely flesh preserved through arcane arts. The center of the tower floor made a small clicking noise. Alertly, the orc sloughed the corpse from around his neck , and used it as a shield. One could not enter this tower armed and expect to survive. Its attacks were as powerful as the combination of weaponry and armour could withstand, should one lack dim wits. Few goblins had thence tried to enter, as none are very intelligent. Those that have were heard screaming for miles around. It proved a deafening roar for the grand procession led to the tower and served to dash hopes and slightly damper morale. This one, though, had journeyed alone in the midst of night; no one would be sure of why they must lament, in their own barbaric fashion, should he not return. When the floor did nothing further, he edged the dead body onto the side and up rose a translu cent disc, distorting the walls. The orc hastily jumped aboard, and lay with the guard's armour blocking him, he hoped. Looking down, he saw the floor and the gaping door; maybe it wasn't too late. The orc shifted to the edge of the disc and hung supported by his weathered arms. When the lift stopped and the guard's body was not consumed by fire or magic, he ventured back onto it, and then onto the precipice to the left that led to a short bit of stair. Advancing cautiously, he made it undisturbed to the top of the stair where was a pedestal, or maybe, in his creed's fashion, an pagan altar. To his great disappointment, only a small black pebble was upon it. It was not for this he had risked his life. Greedily resigned, he shoved it into his pouch. The next moment he was falling. Like the pixelated blocks in an ancient video game162, the textures of the walls passed by as he slid down. This would prove to be an enjoyable night, after all. With a splash he plummeted be neath the murky surface, only to return like a bloated cadavre. The orc swam around to where he re membered the doors to be and gasped in astonishment. There she was. Or more accurately, there her formless figure was. The stark black hair blew with 162 Like the. . .game: games such as the original Doom appear blocky in appearance as of 2000 391

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma its own wind, and she seemed to be beautiful, if silk suggestions could be true. Speaking from a voiceless face, she rasped like an armadillo with laryngitis. “I am Sefri, great lord; I serve you. You disturbed me from the chains of slumber, and I should worship you if I had the body. Save my soul from this dark tower where I was banished, and I shall be yours. Look for a locket.” And like love, she disappeared. Repeating the process, he cautiously opened the door, sneaked in, and strangled the aged guard. Pressing against the triggered fleshgilding, he started the lift upon which he placed the lifeless form of a useless wretch. He assumed his position of the pendulum, dangling as the translucence el evated him towards the precipice. With a sickly splat the arrow registered in the guards body as the ghostly archer disappeared. Gore163 was everywhere, in savourous patches on the disc above and upon his orcish hands. He had been lucky this time. He took the departed's flesh box164 with him as he mounted the precipice and stairs. perhaps the castle would find the sarcus of some use for future gildings165. Approaching the altar, where the pre vious guard lay slain and excavated like Egyptian tombs, the shimmer of a lusterless object caught his eye. There dangling from the bloodied gauntlet was a twisted chain of burnt ivory and jade with a heartshaped ornament of the impurest samite clasped to the necklace for its life. Tossing the unbreathing down with ease, the figure peeled the gauntleted hand's lifeless fingers from the necklace. The emaciated body revived at that moment to sit up and reach for the object it'd been safeguarding. Like before, his guarding ability proved to be nonexistent. A thick blow dis patched him. Several bones were heard to clatter upon the floor of the tower after plummeting over the drop behind the altar. But the orc had no time to fix his attention on this. In the water where he found himself, having not been dropped but transported, Sefri glided to ward him. The locket he extended in an open palm. It was lifted by the formless fingers on invisible arms to where her mouth would be, judging from her raven locks. It opened and, as a bloodcolored something was drank , her form gained the outline of a golden and opaque flesh. She called him mas ter. She followed him flitting in a floating fashion as he parted the doors minutely and created a crevice. Before he went in, she placed upon him the necklace, which she assured him was for protec tion. Now having an audience, he took the slumbering and now even more so decrepit human in his painful hands, smothered his muffled screams, but could do nothing to hide the hollow echo the crack of his neck made. Sefri seemed impressed. The disc was operable by heart, and this time he stood valiantly by the slumping dead one. As it reached the top before crossing the rim, Sefri uttered the curdled scream of one enjoying dying. It tickled at his mind, and sent tremors down his soul. It lasted till the precipice was level. He felt weakened, but the bodies of the two former guards, this time whole and evil tumbled down the 163 Gore: blood and guts and glory, not Clinton's VicePresident 164 Departeded's flesh box: dead guard's corpse 165 Gildings; such a the one upon the wall that triggers the lift 392

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma stair, more lifeless than they'd been before their blades they drew to rush the former killer. Sefri was laughing; the orc was perplexed. But greed and power caught his eye. There on the pedestal was found the object of his intentions. A crimson globe swirled and pul sated with blood. On the sides were the skeletal hands of an ancient and puny mage. It was the ul timate source of destruction, and it was his. As he stepped forward eagerly, dragging along the third dead body, he focused on the crystal made from coagulated screams and blood. It would be his. With remarkable ease he found himself near the evil orb. Stroking it with fondling fingers occupied the passage of a moment before he tucked it with the pebble in his bag. He found himself and Sefri in a perilous water the next. He only wished there was a storm brewing. Dead guards and other demons filled the waterway with evil. They were sorrowed to see him depart, thus they'd attempt to keep him here. As Sefri screamed and leveled some few, the orc ex erted his new found power. The menacing demons and their spawn met metamorphosis at the hands of the orc and his globe. They became helpless babes drowning in the mire. The terror of such gurgling screams was a pleasant boost to morale. One of the toddlers he willed levitate at the nearby seductress. It obeyed the bidding of the ball and presently was cradled in the conforming air circa the orc. He tickled its ribs and feet, drawing blood where his finger trav eled. As damask etches singed trellised paths across the flesh, it squealed in delightful anguish. The orc would send it on its way wingedly. As he tucked his prize safely back up, Sefri asked if they would venture inside once more. He told her no and pointed to his caves; the amulet burned with a glow. “Sefri, what are you? From what delightfully fell power does this necklace protect me? I have felt my very being itch and tingle and yearn to flee.” “I am a banshee, the spawned evil, soulhungry succubus. It protects your soul from my shrieks.” More than enough of an answer, the two sweets headed back to where he would be king. It was day elsewhere, but in the presence of the evergiving tower, it was as black out as his soul. 393

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma If Deer Were Deists “If deer were deists, I'd be one,” said a ruminant to an egret pecking painfully at his side. The egret took this as an offense and pricked once harder with its beak. “Do you say I've driven ye to godlessness? Is that what you imply?” “Only quite the contrary, you are a moralizing spirit. Another, me, brought about my fall, and deism is not without a god. Perhaps you confused it with atheism?” The egret pricked her pretty pinnacles166 and cocked her plasterwhite pate to another side while peskily perching. “Oh, really? I am unfamiliar with that doctrine, as with all others including mine. What is that that it should be believed?” “Well, I cannot speak for deists, who believe God to be more or less aloof from the inner and ev eryday working of the world, but only for what I believe, which happens to be the core of most dog mas. There is a God; there is a Christ; and the resurrection troubles not mine accepting mind. There is a Heaven; there is a Hell; and perdition's what we make of it. There is pardon; there is sin; and it is weak woman's fault. Among a multitude of other things, that is how I identify.” “But do you affiliate with no group? Is that to say you don't practice or congregate?” “I'd not fainly become bonded to any at this moment. But, before you try to me convert, as any does when hearing an unsure or desolate cry, instead of merely offering aid, know that I have checked into many doctrines. None of them suit me, I am afraid. Of your cult's particular brand of Christianity, as well as the others', I know too little but far too much. It is funny how the trivial things separate the cults and sects into divisively hostile factions, but at the core most are the same. “I just practice and embrace the core set of beliefs which are the things that matter. Why bother with the flimsy additions of man, which breed wars and prejudice? I need only prayer to talk to God through His Intercessor. Bishops and priests are but a creation of those seeking power and con trol. As for congregation, yes, I attend the temple. God said the body is the temple of the Lord, and I try to keep mine clean as pure as humanly possible. I attend in spirit those services which are held within, and where I gather the only important person is (Jesus.)” “O woe to see you err thus by practicing the basic beliefs. Though denominations truly don't matter, churchgoers must be subjects to fiefs!” “Lament for me not,” continued the deer, “for whilst one day I may be God saluting, ye mayst be gnashing for selfdeluding by believing the words which man enjoys polluting. Perhaps you think He'd not let the Bible be corrupted? I say look at how the world slipped to sin as did man within due to freewill. Also, what is the Bible? Is there a definitive answer or translation? King James had one engineered, the Apocrypha is perused by some, the Dead Sea scrolls are too sexist, and books like that one the Mormon have been created. “If eager for another work of perversion, invite everpresent Jehovah's Witnesses inside. Then, ask of how many can go to heaven, if such to them exists, and of giving gifts and blood. Most be 166 Pinnacles: projections called the outer ear where the earlobes are 394

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma sides, among a few others, 144,000 disappear after death never heaven to see. Apparently th brain dead creator misread Revelations concerning the 12,000 Jews from each twelve tribes. Though Christmas is a happy celebration, they believe not in gifts and such glad remembrances; what spoil sportive louts. Blood, a gift of life, should not be shed e'en to give, as such is a sin. A lad is damnéd for in play pricking another's skin. Why would any crave to be thus restricted and unhappy, if not because of the needed joy of being deluded? “There are Muslims, and there are Buddhists. There are Shintoists, and there are Hindu. There are Hebrews, and there are a plethora of splintered cults and sects of Christians, such as Baptists. Certainly each religion is flawed, but at least one of the faiths is somewhat right. The others, being deceived by false witness, which He warned against, give an perfect example of the Word's corrup tion. Each has its collection of instructions and History claiming to be from divinity; is it not possi ble to doubt the integrity of what man purports as His Word? Doubt is, after all, the defense mech anism of logic, the realization of something skewed's presence. This rational reason of doubt is why it is detrimental to faith, an innocent and irrational consumption in belief.” “So wise, but so foolish. Deer, whatever has happened to you to make you thus?” “I have happened to myself. One day I awoke in sad epiphany with awareness of the hypocrisy in which I lived. I was literally in the depths of a faithless pit. Woe for that buck I used to be, as well as the fawn I was before that, a sinner in my naivety. I became by accidental circumstances part of an elite group of the despairing. Though none of us were quite the same, it was refreshing to find another in which to confide radical beliefs. One cannot speak the things we've felt to just any one in the hunting grounds of Southern Anabaptistry.” “How did these sinners change you?” queried the querulous egret questing for the quintessential mite. “No more than I did them; we grew from the other's weaknesses and trust. We could not tattle upon the other for being just as stripped and lowly. I would not call them sinners as you connotate, for, though all do sin, which is an everyday occurrence for me, we were and are perhaps more holy than the hypocritical sanctimonious, who judge others while lolling about lavishly in sin's bubble bath.” “You surely speak of Southern Baptists, but how are ye more entitled to judge?” “I am no more entitled than any other that breathes, albeit at least I realize it to be a fault. But speak not to me of being judgmental, you are a stickler for meting the mote. You remind me of an old me whose skin and life I used to wear as an innocent adornment. But a latter me before this time poisoned him when rather deprived of senses and yawning167. Alack , that I could be blissed with the ignorance of innocence again! That I could behave as condescendingly, certainly, and bias edly as do you. But even at mine most ungodly hour, I retained some precepts to which I once ad hered. I'd curse not or behave as illy as the others who caroused and smoked, snorted, pierced, tat 167 Deprived. . . yawning: think of how when one yawns hearing sort of rumbles and gets drowned out by some internal avalanche, and sight becomes blurry, etc., 395

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma tooed, inhaled, or injected. What hypocritical measures forced me to restrain from being truly im moral in these times I comprehend not. I suppose I had a lingering character. “I rather hope you lose not your innocence, although such does have its benefits. Eye E, I am more acceptant and placid. Once I too scorned for petty actions without exploring one's innards, but now I cherish mine ability to understand and listen to all. It must be the residue of once believ ing myself destined to be one of those clothed celibates who hears confession.” “Farewell, you pious grounded one, I fear I must you leave. I cannot suffer to be robbed of that which I believe.” And as the egret flew thence, the deer obstinately cudded. He lacked not zeal; he was not cold blooded. He only was alone because of that beneath his breast, which was a loneliness that, indeed, he'd keep from the rest. Of the innocent and sheltered, he once was one of the best, but he'd lost the bliss, as musical exposure will oft' attest. 396

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma AA Meetings It was the Christian thing to do, to give someone a second chance. She'd tried hard to combat drinking. Personally, Bob hated such fermented sins. But if she disliked it, too, and saw its evils, then what was ill of his action? “Hi, I'm Bob, and I'm an alcoholic.” With those words he lied to find compatibility. Bob had never tasted alcohol, but he knew it wasn't for him. Only the weak of emotion, thus spirit, needed a sinister resort. “Hi, Bob,” was said in communal sobriety. After the meeting he found Sandra, who purported to have been dry 168 for six months. She thought Bob was a nice name, and Bob thought Sandra was a beautiful woman. These two factors worked to his favor, and that Sunday they had a date. Bob would have never met Sandra had he not come to the Alcoholics Anonymous meeting, and he would have never thought about coming to one, if it wasn't for the hairbrained idea of his friend Josh. But events worked out to please Bob. This hairbrained idea of going to AA meetings to meet women seemed not to be all that hairbrained after all. Now, as long as Bob did not marry Sandra, everything would be honkydory and okay. No meaningful or monetary relationship should be founded upon a lie. 168 Dry: sobre, abstinent of grain and grapes 397

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Sleepy Date My friends told me I should get out more; to this end I went on my first blind date. I had re ceived a call saying that the perfect girl for me had been found. To be sure, I was quite skeptical. Anyone perfect for me either did not exist or was seriously flawed. It turned out to be the latter, though that's not a bad thing. It was, perhaps, the best flaw in a person that I have ever discovered. I'd been up for the past fourty hours before I was to pick her up. But that was normal for me. The abnormality was her desire for me to meet her at her house at 5 PM. Having naught better to do, I obliged. The date was not the most successful, at first. It was just like any other ritual of trite courtship. I picked her up figuratively, we went to the movies, and then out to eat. The movie, be ing a new age and meaningless chic flic, was uneventful, and I was rather disappointed in it and her personality. Afterwards for dinner, we ventured bravely forth to Burger King. It was only 7:30. I was honestly unsure of the quantity of toleration which I could endure concerning her. We just did not mesh well. In fact, the only things that were meshing well at the moment were her face and some ketchup on the brown, plastic tray. After I actually noticed what had happened, I began to smile. I savoured the moment for quite some time, but soon I gingerly lifted her highcheekboned vis age out of the red stuff and attempted to remove as much of it from her hair as possible. When she came to circa ten minutes later, I was unable to gleefully restrain myself from relating the event. She smiled in disarrayed dismay. Something was troubling her, and, in due time, a mo ment, she disclosed her personal secret, her flaw. She was narcoleptic to the extreme, her reason for loneliness. Dates had never quite worked out for her. In fact, she wanted to be liked such a great amount that she had taken a healthy dosage of ginseng prior to our rendezvous. Personally, this was the kind of gift I'd been dreaming of for ages. Everyone else thought I was strange because I almost never slept. But I had little time to romanticize, for her head was drooping again. She was fast out, ergo, I carried her across the threshold of Burger King and out into the park ing lot where my car was napping. A pilgrimage to her residence was undertaken, and I put her in bed. She awoke soon afterwards, as tends to happen, and I commenced reading Dr. Seuss books un til she was no longer awake. It did not take very long, this feat, mind you. The second date to the zoo found her asnooze upon a blanket located somewhere under the stars and heaven and dew. I needed not a third date to realize she was the perfect person, the only per son, I wanted. She was so beautiful, her and her sexy narcolepsy. I still remember proposing to her, as it was a somewhat important event. I had sat her down in a chair as a precaution. Then, kneeling upon my knees, I uttered those unforgettable words, “Will 398

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma you stay awake long enough to inform me if you'll marry me, my dear?” She did and ditto. Life has never been better for me since before that time she was discharged into mine own care. I have exactly what I want: someone to care for. True, we've never had any children, but I do not mind. It is probably for the best, as she might fall asleep during labour, a time when she should be breathing. However, it's not like the bed rest would kill her. She's my baby and my babe, and I love her just the same. 399

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Santa There once was a woman from Sao Tiago who fell in love with Santa. Well, it was rather hot in Sao Tiago as it lays in the Atlantic tropics off the African coast., and the reindeer were unable to frequent the heat. Ergo, Santa could only visit her about once a year. To keep Mrs. Clause from growing suspicions like icicles about the presents, he decided to make gifts for all the people in the world. They were made especially for the naughty ones, like that person from Sao Tiago. 400

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Knowledge and Excommunication Communing with oneself is a cardinal sin. This selfsufficient chatting implements a system of selfknowledge. Possessing any form of knowledge whether it be of bananas or else of jackanapes, is a sin against the AllKnowing. As knowledge is power, any knowledge subtracts from His and is treason. Therefore, I propose that any such that should dare attempt selfcommunication should suffer. Upon the first offense all offenders should be promptly excommunicated. The second offense should therefore be met with the first death, which shall be followed by excommunication's second169. The knave who dares attempt to hold lengthy conversation following the second offense shall have his —for he it always is as women are faultless and men are the sources of original sin—tongue re moved posthaste From thenceforth, he should be a rather jolly citizen, if mute. 169 Excommunication's second: if one is excommunicated, one shan't make it to heaven and would therefore suffer in Hell and the Lake 401

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma The Naked Mole Rat and the Penguin Once, there lived a penguin, and she madly fell in love with a naked mole rat that fell in love with her. The penguin came to live with the naked mole rat in his burrow. But, alas, she couldn't take the heat. “Honey,” the penguin said, “I've got to get out of the kitchen.” “Well, come on inside the living room burrow and lay down in the cool. I'll finish supper,” the loving naked mole rat said. “No, honey, I've got to go back to where I came from. I want to stay here, I honestly do, but I can't.” “If you cannot live here with me, then I'll go to Antarctica with you. I cannot live without you.” They packed up their love and left the homely burrow to live in cold and windy lands. But, just as the penguin could not take the heat, the naked mole rat was unable to cope with the bitter freez ing cold. He died. In the snow. Moral: There are some things love can't conquer. 402

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Pygmy A serpent and a pygmy, kangaroo rat/miniature Shetland pony halfbreed had had enough. “I've had enough!” hissed the serpent seethingly. “So have !” joined the pygmy halfbreed. “Senseun, I just don't like this party. The full breeds are squares, and they delight in mocking me.” “I know, Hajj,” lamented the serpent Senseun. “They simply don't realize the sheer synergism of our symbiosis. I mean, why can't we be friends?” As Hajj and Senseun departed from the party, which was a total drag, they began to sing, al most inebriatedly, that song which was aforementioned. The residents of the area were none too pleased with this disorderly conduct or their tragic rendition of “Why Can't We Be Friends.” An ensuing chase by befurred authorities followed. Befuddling their would be captors by switching tunes to Christmas carols, the two decided to hush and go home. “Hey, Senseun,” commented Hajj as he rode upon the undulating ripples of massaging scales, “have I ever mentioned how the patterns of your hide seem like a kaleidoscope?” “Thinks me, no,” said Senseun. The barrage of mindaltering designs upon Hajj's furry mind ended as Senseun's serpentine spine stopped its vacillations. “Snarky!” Senseun heatedly exclaimed. This was followed quickly with, “Curses, I suddenly, upon reminiscence started with the successful arrival to la casa recall that I left the keys inside. The door is locked to boot.” The last seemed to be an oath squeezed through his fangs. “Bummer,” Hajj replied. “Guess we'll have to break in.” “Certainly.” This was said tensely, as anger suffused Senseun's body. Tonite had not been his night. Everything had gone wrong, and, as he launched himself into full assault upon the door with the intentions of breaking it down, a grievous mishap chanced. There, in Senseun's tight coils, was Hajj's poor, halfbred, constricted form. His oversized hind feet kicked in nervous spasms, but his life was gone. To make matters worse, Senseun was still locked outside without his key. He decided not to let a perfectly good meal go to waste. Moral: Violence is not the key. 403

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Scales Fish have ever been known to be the greatest land warriors. That kind's prestige and valour is undisputed. All creatures feared the scaled blitzkriegs and pamphleteering they were notorious for. Thus, it came as no surprise when the fish attacked the frogs; they'd long been enemies, and fish are itching to be belligerent. It was a petty and trivial cause which served as the aggressive catalyst, as such things of war normally are. The fish felt slighted by small children who mistook tadpoles for minnows in infantile ignorance. How could they, the mighty fish, be confused for such base, slimy, and petty creatures as frogs. The two were completely different! Fish have scales. Perhaps it was a feeble reason, but it should be, as it was only a mask for the truth. The fish would battle frogs o'er anything due partly to rivalries of habitat but mostly to hatred. Fish could have easily gotten over sharing flies and space with amphibians. Fruestro was a part of the army on the occasion of that joyous assault. It was an astonishing event of awe to mark his brethren charge in masses onto the land, pointed helmets on pates. He would not interfere with the others, deny their honour, or mar the triumphant scene. Thus, his man ners forced him to let others go first. As he watched his comrades be mowed down by the slings of suffocation and the tongued hordes of berserk frogs, he fully grasped the importance of honouring his father and mother and subsequent commands. If not for the politeness which they had taught him, the flopping throes of an asphyxiating demise would have him. Sheer reason told him via voices in his head that death lay in store, should he partake of the as sault. Perhaps there was indeed enough room for coexistence Using his head, he stayed within his element. As he swam home, he began to focus on forgetting the horror of the Chapultepec scene and his perished friends. Sheer happiness was more important. Moral: Put others first. 404

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Ground Beef Laendrax was a philosophically attuned chipmunk. He had studied diligently in the university and learned every aspect of thought and manipulation. But, such studies had rendered him raven ous. One day he set off to scavenge, for he had learned naught of sustenance's cultivation. As he roared internally, Laendrax noted Borac by the dead oak tree caressing a slice of pizza with his mouth. Laendrax was led by his belly and deep convictions. “Friend Borac,” he began, “I cannot help but notice how you feast upon that betrayal.” To Bo rac's displeasure Laendrax ranted upon the evils of a chipmunk eating pizza. Pizza's an Italian dish, ergo Borac was betraying his culture, kith, and creed. Sure, it starts with a medium sausage pizza with breadsticks, but where will it end? Borac was long asnooze when Laendrax concluded with a statement of culture's destruction. He finished the pizza, but only to ensure that Borac would always cherish and respect his native customs. The crust he left. Proud of his trickery, he later happened upon Shoile, who was presently grooming. She was the prettiest of all chipmunks, ergo she was the most deceptive. Should he in some way best her, then he would indeed be the rodent with the most cunning. He wasted no time with becoming a victim to her charms and utilized such moments saved to sermonize. An eloquent discourse gave he which dwelt upon the sin of vanity. She should not discard uselessly her moments with grooming and such narcissism but with the worshipping of God. She heeded him not but ignored him in her sleep. When, quite becomingly, she drooled heavily in an nearcomatose state, he knew that he was a master orator. He decided it was time to get a manicure and a haircut, but, before the barber's stripe spied he, he spied another victim, a stepping stone of practice. Jalill sat upon a root lusting mouthily o'er the octuple double cheeseburger with onion which he held tenderly in furry paws. Eager to exercise his talent more than make a casualty of the cow, Laendrax struck his pious pose to perform. He would still eat it though; why waste? It would be a most excellent message dwelling upon health risks of red meat and onion's profan ity of breath. Jalill hesitated not before he drew his piece like a sketch of the purpled sunset. So ended he the lecture abruptly. He had always been leery of men who professed or lectured greatly, for they are nearly always hypocrites. One thing Jalill could not tolerate was that form of sinner vile. Another was for people to rant about dieting and weight loss; he knew it for the sham it is. He would not fall victim to the anorexic promulgations of the greedy who would eagerly destroy youth. He simply could not tolerate an attack upon his food. As he chowed down upon four pounds of burger, he inwardly glowed and developed an hankering for garlic. Laendrax had learned not to come between a chipmunk and his ground beef. 405

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Moral: Speeches are boring. 406

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Mandibles A pizza, a breadstick , a potato wedge, and a buffalo wing had always been competitive. In the burgeoning childhood which they shared together, never had they cooperated. In competition and bitter rivalry play time was spent. Supposedly they were stronger for such demeanor. In their prime a bet did the group make concerning which could survive longest in the desert. As that reindeer's party170, they left for the West to live alone in each other's aidless company. Almost immediately the hot wing's expiration date stood him up. He was merely a gaunt, skele tal figure thinly surrounded by a greasy hide. Such a fatless, meatless waste of mastication could not last long surviving from his own body. Though he was arrogant, he was dead. If any sense had he, he'd have brought food along. Not much longer did fortune smile gaptoothedly upon the pizza. An entourage of small wood land animals on vacation happened to pass the slices in their travels. They befriended it via their devouring bellies. One can't begrudge the fuzzballs though, for the sylvans were doped up on catnip and absorbed in Pink Floyd's Ummagamma. The munchies are too powerful a force to be reckoned with peaceably; the pizza will be sorely missed. Alack , alack , the wedge the dust bit. The chap had withered into an decrepit emaciation of gauntness, a shell of his former self. Its starches were evaporated, and a sickly rash of mold he de veloped. Perishables cannot survive the sun sans refrigeration's shelter. He perished for heeding not the cacti's ways: conservatism. Though the breadstick won, she too lost. She wept wee wat'ry weepings for her friends' loss, but such is the fate of food. Her own destiny was, without a doubt, just as lamentable. She was built for survival, for she was tough, filled solidly within, and sexily tanned. However, she contracted skin cancer from being by Solaris rebaked in the pursuit of the perfect tan of vanity. As she lay withered upon her tanning bed of death, the victory of the challenge was less than the little conso lation of nothing. Ultimately, the challenge had been as worthwhile as the humiliating toils of a game show. The edibles should have used some common sense and collaboration. Moral: Buffalo wings are useless. 170 Reindeer's party: Donner 407

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma The Pimp and the Pheromone Rose Garden A wealthy man took his abode in a large and drafty house at the intersection of the two largest roads in the city. The front lawn was festooned with the crimson blossoms of his roses. The sweet perfume of this garden was overwhelming to the senses, especially to those of the feminine persua sion. This was due to the sweet pheromones that emanated from his specially cultivated roses. To protect his precious and valuable buds, he posted signs reading, “NO TRESSPASSING!” and, in jest, “ALL VIOLATERS WILL BE PROSTITUTED.” The pheromones remained too much, and one morning he found a young, beautiful lady passed out in the midst of his garden. A handful of his thorned stalks were grasped delicately in her hands. Always kind and gentlemanly, he roused her cautiously, as one should do with any stranger. She, in turn, begged and pleaded that he not send her away. She'd seen the signs, but was too intoxicated to care. He took her inside and placed her in one of the many empty rooms. He figured she was stressed or otherwise out of it. Largely forgetting about the young lady in the face of his work , he came home to find her on the corner. Not wanting to earn a bad name, he rushed her inside. By the warmth of the hearth she ex plained that she was living up to her end of the bargain. Shocked and horrified, he protested. She agreed to quit the nonsense, provided she could keep the room and visit the roses. Upon returning from the office the next evening, he discovered an abundance of feminine com pany. As luck would have it, the authorities had dropped in as well. When the ordeal was over, his reputation had been destroyed. With nothing to lose, and perhaps something to gain, he began let ting the females live up to the commandments of the signs. Morals: Sarcasm and jests are lost upon many and are taken as literal. Women are weak. A truly desired object may cause one to give up anything. Once the pride of a reputation or tradition is lost or broken, little else matters. 408

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma In the Off Season “In the off season I'm a banker,” he surprisingly began. I had not expected this phrase to be spoken by such a man. But then, I had not expected my love to run off trancedly and fixedly as she had done. We'd been walking by this large house and she had disappeared. To be completely honest, I had not noticed her absence from my side for a num ber of moments. I was educationally studying a house we'd just passed with rather seductive lawn gnomes. When after a few minutes of oggling these ladies of the night no rude comment was made, I came back to thoughtful consciousness with the hideous awareness that my lady was not there. When extensive and furtive looks around the environs provided me with a glimpse of her mean dering through the lush crowd of forbidden pleasures, I gleefully pursued her with a heavy heart. Fending off the advances was a delightful nuisance. Maybe she had not seen. “Dear, was it something I did?” I knew what I had done and was expecting her to taunt me with a threat that, 'since I liked to stare at them so much I should court them.' Or maybe that she was becoming one because she wanted me to stare at her that way. But there was no answer. In the center of a labyrinth of a rose topiary garden and maidens she stopped. Fully expecting her to turn around and retort belligerently unfair words, I halted and cringed. Instead, she took a big swig of the air and sighed like a lovesick airbellows. A man who looked odd in large gold chains and baggy clothes bustled limpingly over to her, shoving aside the other mistresses who obstructed his laughable strut. “Ah, a fresh recruit,” he spoke. “Ma'am, you have just trespassed upon private soil and ignore the posted consequence.” He nodded to some signs I'd not noticed for the seduction draped 'round them. “You must now serve as a woman of ill repute for each day you remain on this property, rooms will be provided for you, and you can leave when you wish. I imagine you'll stay for the roses, no?” As he said this he jerked his head to fix his stare on me. Several chains and piercings dangled. “You sir, please follow me. I expect you arrived with this woman.” I had no intentions of selling my body—I wish to have kids171—but I followed anyway. Inside this gargantuan establishment he led me to a room of modest proportions where I suppose he con ducted his business. “But unfortunately, I haven't had an off season in a while,” he continued. “I enjoy numbers and money, I really do. But the ladies, they just won't disperse. It's the roses you see. They have some chemical that attracts them. I cannot destroy the roses; they're insured. It would do no good, in any case, for the ladies have them grafted and planted all over the rooms. But you probably care nothing for my woes, for the girl you were with is becoming a salesperson outside. It's happened be fore, I regretfully add. The fellows come in angered at me. They threaten me, rough me up a little, and snatch at my clipon chains and jewelry in an attempt to inflict pain. But after I explain every 171 I wish. . . kids: prostitutes rarely have children because they take care of themselves too well 409

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma thing, and offer them board and free admission to the activities, they all leave relieved—relieved!— to be free of a drain on their income. They don't want to stay in the same house with them, but I have spotted them with the free pass tickets a number of times. I proffer the same offer to you.” Well, to embrace the Socratic truths, I knew I'd love to be in such a position. Room and board and entertainment would be completely provided. It would be like taking a cruise won or paid for by parents. I guiltily confessed as much. “Well, this is certainly a first. Someone willing to take residence because of the roses indirectly.” To which he added the comic afterthought of the offer. “You wouldn't happen to want to take over the affairs of this estate, would you?” “Would I!” “Then sign here,” he said with gravity as a set of papers he produced from the desk. It was a le gal contract to sign over the management and operation of the prostitution ring under the terms of Nevada law for reasons that it was just too big for one pimp to do alone. It also contained a num ber of stipulations including providing housing, leisure time in the garden, and maintenance of the permit172 for the business. Stripping off his clipons and grabbing a suit, he strolled over like a man relieved of a thousand nattering wives. He patted me on the back in thanks. I noted that his dap 173 no longer bore the signs of mental retardation that it had earlier. Then, he left me to run affairs with this warning. “Enjoy these arrangements if you wish, but there's no future in pimpin', I warn you; it tires the soul.” 172 Maintaining the permit: the permit was especially important, for he'd had had the authorities visit him for sinning without one previously. 173 dap: an affected way that someone walks 410

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Chapter XXVI Letters and Epistles MEMO TO: Teverance/Friend & Editor FROM: Pheleppi/Unaspiring Author & Tormenter RE: Letters and Epistles “Literature Spr ings from Bloodshed” Literature seems to spring from bloodshed. The ancient rituals that resulted in dramas were mired in sacrifice. The Iliad and The Odyssey have their roots in the bloodbath that was the sacking of Troy. It seems Shakespeare has his fair share of bloodshed and suicide as well. Why, literature from the Age of Reason sprang from the corpse of King Charles I, so to speak. Since literature so issued from the prominence of plasma, I have had an epiphany, although per haps nothing quite that deep. I could send you sections and brief encounters of uncapturable thought in words via letters and epistles. Then, if you were quite accommodating, you could send back criticisms. Replies do not have to be purely constructive, for I understand how much that would injure your abilities of expression. Besides, an requirement of an author is the ability to take deconstruction and negative suggestions. Eventually from these should you grow. If and when you tire of this, kindly disregard this form of exchange. Above in the first para graph, is the first selection, picked only to warn you that you may develop bloodshot eyes from which my style and subjects may benefit. MEMO TO: Pheleppi FROM: Teverance RE: Letters, epistles, literature Let me begin by inquiring to find out if, forgive my ignorance, letters and epistles are not one and the same. Now, to the real beef, are you implying that I'm cynical or sarcastic in any way? I resent that implication, but mostly because it is true. You say “you” at the end of the second paragraph. Am I to understand that you feel that I need to grow, and from that infer that I am short? I simply do not comprehend myself and why I put up with your remarks, but this sounds as if it should be an effective manner for me to constantly deride your work. No longer will I have to wait for each branch of thought to be compiled with the others. Oh yes, you will pay. 411

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma MEMO TO: Teverance FROM: Pheleppi RE: Grecian Forgetfulness “If Adam and Eve Were Greek” If Adam and Eve had been Greek , we may not have been here today. After partaking of the fruit of knowledge, they realized their sins. Because of these sins, they were cast out of Eden to multiply the earth. But if they had been Greek , the two could have taken a sip of the River Lethe and for gotten everything, including all of their sins. MEMO TO: Pheleppi FROM: Teverance RE: Not to be curt... Shouldn't this rather state that they'd merely forget everything, since knowledge was the sin? MEMO TO: Teverance FROM: Pheleppi RE: Nuns with olives “The Sexuality of Virgin Olive Oil (and Other Perishables)” Why is Virgin Olive Oil called Virgin Olive Oil? Is it because the olives used to make it were pure and virtuous? Were they never touched by the hands of men, never profaned due to their chastity caps? And Extra Virgin Olive Oil, what is this? Is it celibate for twenty or thirty years or something? Were those particular olives grown at monasteries? Who knows. . . ? Due to its moniker of Virgin Olive Oil, should the freshness seal be called the hymen? I mean, once the freshness seal is lost, it is gone for good. Should we call the freshness seals of ketchup and milk , etc., the hymens as well? I guess it's a good thing that milk loses its virginity at an early age. I don't know if I would want it if it was untouched and pure for twenty or thirty years. I don't know anyone who would. But that's pretty much all I have to rant about. 412

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma MEMO TO: Pheleppi FROM: Teverance RE: Okay, that was awful Would you really care to know anyone who would want to drink thirty year old milk? If so, I can refer people to you. Overall, I thoroughly enjoyed this rant. Keep up the great work! There, I do praise and encourage you from time to time. I rather fear that you'll switch editors if I do it too of ten, though. MEMO TO: Teverance FROM: Pheleppi RE: Destroying belovéd children's cartoon characters. “Truth about Bambi” Mention the name “Bambi” to anyone these days, and one can watch the whitebeset eyes fill with love and admiration and zealous fanaticism for the much belovéd hero. But, ask an aficionado why he is a hero, and, if one actually contemplates it, hero he his not. People naturally accept the more polished views, the more romantic ideals that good publicity has given him. He protected his girlfriend, he saved the forest animals from hellacious flames, and he is King of the Forest, now. The sad truth of the matter is that society watched him grow up and that Bambi is male. When one knows someone intimately, one must forget the other's shortcomings in order for one to live up to one's own personal standards. If someone meets not one's standards, one then becomes beneath one. Well, multitudes were acquainted with Bambi from his birth, and this bond blinds endless numbers to his faults and leaves them limited in vision, as the visible light spectrum, to his innocence and cuteness. A sense of adoration is cultivated because of his family's power. The com bined effect of the friendship and power leaves us unable to find faults in him, as truly, friendship and power condone anything. Bambi is male, and males are scum who are weak , proud, and needy. Bambi was weak , for he could not resist the mere batting of Feline's eye. He also had to have his daddy rescue him from the fire. The pride comes with his status, an undeserved rank at that! He did not assay to try to at tempt to save the other animals, much less himself, from the ravaging flames. Bambi was so roman tic, fighting for his love. Yeah right! He was defending his claim. He did not love her; deer have no souls with which to love. Availability was everything. Bambi is an oversung hero. He did not try to aid his fellow creatures in a time of desolation. He fought for lust, not love, and his rank was handed to him. Alas, society is blinded to this, and, in turn, twists these event into ideals. This is due to a prolonged exposure to blinding innocence. Bambi is male, he's weak , proud, and he has needs. He may also be proud of his needs. 413

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma MEMO TO: Pheleppi FROM: Teverance RE: I'll never look at him the same way I hope you're proud of yourself! I know I certainly am. It's not often an imbecile effectively de stroys misleading interpretations, and I'm proud of myself because, well, let's face it, I'm me. For some reason I cannot help but to think that with this you symbolically used Bambi to represent guys as a whole. Continuing this train of thought, you made effective use of a framework to intro duce opinions and bitterness, as shown with the neglected remembrances of a friend's faults as found at the second paragraph's beginning. Kudos. I cannot wait without hesitant enthusiasm for the impending Snow White parody, which surely must follow. MEMO TO: Teverance FROM: Pheleppi RE: I'll stick to real monsters “ The Real Stor y of Frankenstein” Frank was only five, but he was still a baby. He listened to his mommy. He helped her bake cookies and cakes and pies and more cookies. But the worst thing he ever did was to eat his vegeta bles, like his mom had always told him to do. Last Monday was his first day of school. But Frank was a big boy, and his mom had told him not to be afraid. Naturally, he wasn't scared. That morning, on the short drive to school, Frank saw a horrible car wreck and there were dead body parts and blood everywhere. When he arrived at school, all of the kids started laughing at him and making fun of him and kicking him and calling him mean names. Frank had made a few new friends by lunch time. But his teacher hated him. A lot. In the lunchroom when he was walking to a table to sit down, the kids threw food at him, and took his money from him and took his food from him, and stuffed him in the garbage can, and poured milk all over him. After the principal knocked the garbage can over, Frank crawled out; junk was drip ping all over him. The only thing anyone would let him eat were the moldy, nasty, rotten, disgusting vegetables. So, he ate them like his mommy had always told him to do. Frank got really sick and threw up all over the place, and, because of this, his teacher took all of Frank's clothes off and chained him to the water fountain. There, all the other kids laughed and spat upon him. Frank was starting to change that night from a cute five year old boy into a horrible monster. In fact, he scared the monsters under his bed. 414

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Frank was eager to go to school the next morning, and when his mommy went to kiss him bye, he bit her head off. In class he learned how to hurt the other students and tear them apart and eat their bloody hearts raw. I hear Frank ate his whole school, and all because the school food turned him into a monster. By the way, he starts school with you tomorrow. MEMO TO: Pheleppi FROM: Teverance RE: But women are monsters. . . I'm not exactly sure how this story fits in with anything else you've done. At first I was intel lectually bored with it, though basely amused. But then, upon your admission that it was an alle gory, albeit a weak one, I distilled much into pure pleasure. If I understand correctly, it parodies the evils of school. At first, Frank was obedient, caring, sweet, and the perfect son. But then, after being ridiculed and exposed to others, he lost his inno cence. I'm not exactly sure how to completely explain the lunchroom scene, other than to say that school food was a bad experience. The whole monsters under the bed allusion surely must refer to how other kids ruin the simple joys of life (e.g. There is no Santa, Easter Bunny, or Boogeyman.) I suppose people really enjoy torture and illtreatment, at least women seem to take pleasure in pain. Biting his mommy's head off is a figurative element, no? He'd grown up enough to retort and refuse kissing in public, no? His teeth could not have been sharp enough to literally bite her head off, although I could see gnawing. The ending, well, I suppose it's symbolic of every student. They destroy each other with taunts and snobbery, and each day is a fresh start to repeat. MEMO TO: Teverance FROM: Pheleppi RE: Whirring pipe organs “Organic” Playing the organ is like flying a helicopter. Every limb is engaged in a continual process. Pedals are involved in both. Mistakes on either are quite tragic. A large amount of difficulty hinders learn ing the operation of both. These monstrosities produce really neat sounds. 415

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma MEMO TO: Pheleppi FROM: Teverance RE: Musically untalented I would not know whether this comparison is correct. I'll have to take your words to be the truth. A decent comparison it was, in literary terms. Nothing deserving of great praise. Maybe, if it were longer and involved some sort of transition, conjunction, or sexual reference, then it would be more enjoyable. MEMO TO: Teverance FROM: Pheleppi RE: Songs by the Rembrandts “I'm Here for You” “I'll always be here for you.” How true those words are. One will always be where one is; and that, for one, is “here.” One can be in Cincinnati or Tokyo, yet you will still always be “here” in rela tion to another person. One could be tied up, unable to get to the phone, and slash or plotting his/her death, but one will still be “here” for him/her. As long as one never says, “I'll be there for you” one is okay. The magic word “there” means that one would have to be literally with that per son. This can be quite impossible at times, especially at those times when one is plotting his/her death. MEMO TO: Pheleppi FROM: Teverance RE: Conspiring I've noticed that you haven't been around lately. Should I be worried? Should I take the re peated mentions of conspiracy to the extreme? Should I stop being critical of your work in order to preserve some elongated longevity? Nah, if you're going to kill me anyway, then I might as well be unrepentant and abrasive. You suck. Only a fool would use “s/he” to replace “he/she.” You write choppy English sentences; I've known mentally impaired Pakistani who could write more fluently and incorporate a vividness that attracts better interest. This does not say much, though. I'm pack ing my bags and leaving town now. 416

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma MEMO TO: Teverance FROM: Pheleppi RE: Pwegnuncy “Some Thoughts on Female Brain Shrinkage” A scientific study concluded that a female's brain shrinks one eighth of an inch while she is pregnant. This accounts for the loss of memory that often plagues pregnancy. It may also explain the impregnated's desire to masticate on certain bizarre combinations of edibles whilst pregnant. My question is, does the brain shrink a quarter inch when twins are carried and threeeighths for triplets? Or is it only an eighth of an inch in total despite the number of babies one mayst have? If it is an eighth per child, I feel sorrow immense for the lady who had those octuplets a few years back. Gosh! That is a full inch of her brain she lost. Perhaps suffragists were aware of this long ago, and the movement developed from a desire to quit bearing litters and actually utilize the brain. MEMO TO: Pheleppi FROM: Teverance RE: I won't ask , although you've told. Are you certain this is factual? I'm not sure how that would work. But then science, like many formulas and postulates in mathematics, is something to be taken for granted unquestionably. Should she who bore octuplets have lost a full inch, it is quite lamentable. After all, women have never been known to have large brains or intelligence, unless, of course, they are horrid of ap pearance. In those cases the resources intended for the body seem to have been diverted to the mind, much to the sorrow of we males. But, should my theory that beauty is derived from shrunken minds prove correct suffragists must have never had offspring. For, it is quite apparent from portraits that the gracing beauty of pregnancy never visited. Indeed, no form of gorgeousness seemed to have. MEMO TO: Teverance FROM: Pheleppi RE: Topographics and elevation “Just Because You're Out of the Valley Doesn't Mean the Hill or Mountain Is That Great” Case in point. A lonely insomniac after years of his disease, finally gets cured. However, he im mediately turns into a narcoleptic. This is a great change of events, eh? While one mayst think it 417

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma natural for his/her body to desire to catch up on sleep, especially REM, does one think that s/he thinks it fit and proper to pass out while placing clothes into or removing such from a washer/dryer? How wonderful would be the purchase of a new freezer intended to keep the ice cream solid, only to have it frozen unscoopably? MEMO TO: Pheleppi FROM: Teverance RE: Rendering ice cream unscoopable This seems as if it were a work of your infancy, which is not to say that you have improved much. You can do much better! Should you try to prove a point, then valid evidence through specific examples or truths is quite handy. I also think you should change “narcoleptic” to something more intense and expressive of sleepdeprivation, such as “student.” I notice that you've used “s/he.” I knew you'd fall for that trap! By the way, you've never fallen asleep in the washing machine have you? MEMO TO: Teverance FROM: Pheleppi RE: Genetico “Mothers Know Because of Chromosomes” Does not it seem odd how a mother can tell when one pilfers a cookie? What supernal phenome non allows for such heightened abilities? There can only be one plausible explanation of an answer. Mother's intuition? I think not. Unless, of course, a mother's intuition is derived from chromo somes. After all, we are half our mother, and that would explain the link that seems to betray us. “Genetics” Some people think that God gives mankind the technology to do what it needs. Flight, for ex ample, was a feat of technology made available to the lowly insane by God. Well, the human species has not been weeding out the weaker genes [if you believe not this visit the South.] According to evolution, if a society does not filter out the weaker members, or, as we humans oft' do, it pampers and encourages these defects, then it will perish. I, personally, take some issues with evolution, but the thought did occur that God could have given this race genetics to eliminate weaklings, not by natural selection, but by fixing or blocking the bad genes, and such. Perhaps more than just the ice berg's tip was exposed with this thought. 418

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma “Extinction” Any creature that practices sexual reproduction seems to develop weaklings over time. If these reproduce, defects can be preserved and mutated through the generations. Dinosaurs evolved for mil lions of years, while humans have only been here a few thousand. If humans can produce such sick lings as seen today in that relatively small quantity of time, what did the dinosaurs produce after millions of years? The answer: extinction. MEMO TO: Pheleppi FROM: Teverance RE: Where should I begin Not to be uncreative, but perhaps you, the child I mean, are a sloppy thief. That, and surveil lance cameras, would be probable explanations for the maternal allegations of petty larceny. Do not me misperceive, I do like this one. Wouldn't it truly be odd if mothers were in tune with the silent hum of their half of our DNA? I see that you were in a genetic mood when you wrote these. Thoughtful, at times, “Extinction” left me wanting more resolution and conclusion. By “a few thousand years” do you refer to biblical genealogies and not the silly scientific dates by scientists prescribed? The opening of “Genetics” is disturbingly inaccurate; no one thinks anymore. Also, I would ad vise not knocking the South, for we do live here. Someone might grow perturbed, and no one wants that. There's nothing quite as disturbing as drunkards cruising in claydrenched trucks with mounted flashhunting lights, numerous gun racks, and antlers who scream beoathed mutterances sans intelligence or any form of enunciation whilst wielding the firearms they were raised with. Be sides Women's Lib, of course. MEMO TO: Teverance FROM: Pheleppi RE: Bastille Day “Is Nature Alive” Is nature alive and living well in its own strange ways? Or is it just the mind's eye that per ceives nature as unfamiliar when the psyche is relinquished of its control of perception and descrip tion? Nature is alive, but it does appear strange unless a person in opened up and unhindered by the 419

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Bastille174 of Reason. Indeed, a great many things are not registered because such are obscured and glossed over by the obstructing processes of censoring minds. MEMO TO: Pheleppi FROM: Teverance RE: Right I'm not exactly sure what to make of this, to be somewhat honest. I had entered this fully ex pecting some reference to July 19, 1789. Instead, I found circumstantial complaints which could possibly be sued in a Supreme Court case in which the mind is prosecuted for violating the First Amendment. But how would the brain be prosecuted for censoring, thinks me? Is this the continua tion of the semiphilosophy that you seem to express in unconnected and inconclusive statements of short length? For what it's worth, it should be longer and pertain more to the comprehensible reali ty's expression by including examples and other such elements. This would smooth the jaggedness that could prove harmful to the reader's fragile interest and intention. As of now, the response is more verbose than the stimulus. But that's intended not to be negative or express any patronizing affections for you and your abilities; you know I could never compare with thy creativity and ex pression. That is after all, why I am simply an editor. MEMO TO: Teverance FROM: Pheleppi RE: Endos “The Appropr iateness of Hymen” Hymen is the Greek God of Marriage. How appropriate that is. One would almost think the Greeks were cynical or smart in some manner, for, when one marries, an offering of consummation is made upon the altars of Hymen. MEMO TO: Pheleppi FROM: Teverance RE: On dope? Pointed, sexual, and satirical are three words to describe this brief thought. Should I elaborate further or merely make the point that perhaps certain aspects were appointed with labels after the 174 Bastille: a Parisian prison that was stormed and marks the symbolic beginning of the French Revolutions. The implication is that, though the workings and ruts of the mind may seem imposing, these are conquerable, especially in times of frantic confusion and orderless destruction. 420

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma figures from Greek mythology. At the present, I am not referring to constellations. MEMO TO: Teverance FROM: Pheleppi RE: Bloodsucking punk “On Vampires” The world and culture of American vampires is sadly lacking a future: there are no children. How can a society survive without the brats who will be misled and erroneous in decisions, just as with each destructive generation before it? There being a dearth of youth, vampires must be imported, as great music and beverages, after they have come of age. This does not allow for the mixing/tossing process that other cultures have had. Instead, it results in prejudice at both ends of the spectrum. Unnecessary violence, bloodshed, and sucking has plagued the relationship of misunderstanding ever. But, should the kids have aged into adulthood as companions, Hebrew with Slav with French with American with Basque with Vampire, etc., then the communion of friendship would develop. But this respect and understanding is never to be. What's to blame for this outrage? Why, nothing more than mandatory education laws. It is sheer death for a vampire to be out in sunlight. But maybe this insensitivity will end, and the Supreme Court will make an allowance for vampires, as for the Amish. MEMO TO: Pheleppi FROM: Teverance RE: If they existed. . . This would be truly saddening, if vampires were not bloodsucking punks. That comment, “bloodsucking punk ,” I initially felt was directed towards me, the critic. But I'm certain that that cannot be now. By the phrase “as for the Amish,” I suppose you are alluding to the Supreme Court ruling that lets Mennonite children exit school at eighth grade and tend to farms due to religious/cultural beliefs and the pursuit of purity. If that is the case, and, since vampires could possibly be said to be practicing a religion, then I am all for separation of mortals and immortals. But, then again, I do not believe in vampires, only ghosts and aliens. I'm going to get a V8 Splash; send me more at will. 421

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma MEMO TO: Teverance FROM: Pheleppi RE: Drunkards and potatoes “Why the Ir ish Fight” Many Irish are fieryheaded. Like many other redheaded chaps, the blokes have an heated tem per. Eager to fight because of hair coloration, they have earned the name the “Fighting Irish.” Yet, it is more such as their red hair has caused them to frequent the pubs. Following the example set by others, an attempt is made to drown sorrows, which in this case are over crimson hair, in ale. When minds have been courting alcohol, the Irish, or anyone for that matter, are more prone to fight. Ergo, hair pigmentation causes them to fight not only when sobre, which is hopefully not often, but also when they aren't. MEMO TO: Pheleppi FROM: Teverance RE: Hail the Brogue! You do know that potatoes came from this New World, and not Ireland? The Irish only became dependent upon tubers to such a degree that, when famine occurred in the mid1800s, they had to flee to America to get a decent stock of them. I do not think many returned home to Erin; the pota toes must have been too heavy to lug back on a drunken swim. Oh, yes, stereotypes concerning hair color, drunkenness, and temper might be considered offensive, even if earnestly intended to be in jest. MEMO TO: Teverance FROM: Pheleppi RE: The vernacular balances “Misunderstandings Expand the Vocabulary” Misunderstandings and miscommunications are the cause of an expansive vocabulary, for peo ple and entire languages. Perhaps the most obvious example of this is the advent of curse words into vocabularies. There is always a misunderstanding involved, even if one only observes or hears the misunderstanding. Then, when a miscommunication occurs, people [may curse] try to relate ideas in a different manner for clarity's sake, and thus new words are often absorbed. Then, there are people whose sole intention, or at least one of their many such sole intentions, is 422

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma to miscommunicate in order to disguise covertly in a hidden fashion thought. In this way new words are created. People often do not fully and utterly comprehend one another, and these misun derstandings can lead to cultural clashes wherein one culture will assay to become supreme over the other. Should this occur, words and phrases will be swapped and created. Curiosity and interest, and the resulting intermingling, will also lead to the formation and exchange of words. Ultimately, there is love. Love is a misunderstanding, a miscommunication that one can never truly express. Love has festered at the root of multitudes of dark misunderstandings and miscommu nications, as well. It is the word that keeps giving, judging from the number of words that can be attributed to it. These futile explanations originated via wars and other misunderstandings, as well as from the attempts to express love, a miscommunication which has spawned sheer amounts of syn onyms, etc. Miscommunications themselves are, ultimately, in the end, when all is said and done, a misun derstanding. “Balances of New Ideas” As long as the world never becomes dull and stagnant, then never will there be a shortage of new ideas. The new ideas will ensure that the world never grows stagnantly dull. Nature is chaos by nature, and to wax dull and stagnant would be to enforce order upon world. Chaos forced into order is dangerously unstable, like the confused and gullible teenage mind. The in stability will inevitably emit bursts and snaps of chaos, a radiation to keep stagnation from the complete destruction of newness. These newnesses will take the form of a random event or thought —an epiphany. The thought or event will lead to new ideas—inventions, songs, stories, poetry. These ideas are expressions, or personal and personally twisted reactions to events or thoughts. These inventions, songs, stories, and poems will become events and thoughts. These, in turn, will shape perceptions and cause others to forge their own personal views and beliefs, which will then be perverted by the character of experience [events.] The slowly expanding ripples without fail will have less magnitude as more and more twist the original meaning, as well as because some people shall find the expanding ranges of thought too radically extreme. The key to keeping the chaos and new ideas alive is to change accepted ideas by proving them faulty or adapting them. Nonconformity is chaos; chaos changes the unstable order; and order fears change. It's com pletely against the rules and systems of order. Nonconformity must exist to balance the standards that destroy creativity. 423

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma MEMO TO: Pheleppi FROM: Teverance RE: Nonconformity is the key to originality At least they were well thought, if simple enough. You seemed to be bored witless during their fell spawning. Were these the products of a math class? It looks to be trig ennuí175 to me. I de lighted in the excessive measures used in “Balance” to justify what could have been expressed in my subject line. At least you assayed some support this time. In “Misunderstanding” your rationale lacked truly specific examples. I kept thinking “kids on a playground,” “your deliberately confusing writing,” “the conquest of England in 1066,” and, well, love needs no examples. The Eskimos have scores of words to express it and its different shades. MEMO TO: Teverance FROM: Pheleppi RE: Innocence “Innocence to Cor ruption to Mindset” A person's views, supported by knowledge, are innocence, even though these may be wisdom. Innocence will one day face the corruption of others' innocence or wisdom, should the expression of the corruption be listened to by one in that exhausted state of being slightly unsure of thought, be lief, and action. With luck , the individual will develop a firm belief, or a mindset, after judging the arguments and sentiments attached. Sadly as an elegiac tone, many live without ever creating true and per sonal mindsets. These senseless and oft' codependent allow their innocence to be passed through cy cles with each close person's utterance of thought. Innocence Left Unattended Innocence left unattended leads to chaos. At first, civilization tends to take root. But in the face of an inevitable fear, civilization loses power. The raw passion, emotion, and desires sparked and augmented by the fear greatly renders civilization powerless, though this occurs gradually, sub consciously, and irrationally. The wild passion will destroy any sense or religion. After religion has vanished, intelligence attempts to stay for a while longer. Yet it will be slain, and with it civiliza tion shall inevitably perish. 175 ennuí: boredom 424

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma MEMO TO: Pheleppi FROM: Teverance RE: Naïveté A smarter man than I would have ignored the theme and asked how you fared, and if all of your systems were functioning properly. But unintelligent am I. Innocence, like order, seems to be a fixation of yours. It is only natural, as you are in your burgeoning years of creative development. These both seem to use the obvious to state something you feel. The former eventually slams the codependent and stupid. Could this be an attack on friends who've disappointed? From the latter I've gleaned not only the theme of Lord of the Flies, but also a statement on America. We were unattended with benign neglect, and war ensued. Some aristocracy was had for a while, but the attempts proved in vain. Could this land truly be called refined with its prostitu tion, murder, alcoholism, drug addiction, lack of respect and manners, subglobally par education, football, and fast food restaurants? Prejudice and other such petty fears, as well as greed, have slowly etched with speed this society. The Civil War, Civil Rights, slavery, the Asian Exclusion Act, and multifaceted Miami all prove the former. Support for the latter, greed, is bolstered by William Randolph Hearst's creation of the Spanish American War via yellow journalism, the corruption of railroad builders, and those who would cor ner the Stock Market, etc. America is the great land of passion—not in bed—but of fauxissues. Taxation in the Revolutionary Days was laughably misconstrued as harsh and unfair; England was fought over it. The desire for legalities and loopholes excluded religion from its normal governmental role. One cannot expect religion to survive in the hands of mortals; perhaps the lack of a national religion was an attempt at atheism. Thinkers are still occasionally bred, but artists and creators alike almost always perish young due to the messages of our society. Eventually, the experiment of the Founding Father's clique will fail, for those departed dead were the great thinkers. MEMO TO: Teverance FROM: Pheleppi RE: Nuclear “A New Brave World” In the beginning, there was chaos. Then, order seeped through the cracks and crevices. Order and chaos combated for years, until order eventually achieved victory. Chaos was hunted down, and its mother, Nature, was tortured and destroyed. Order could not last forever. Indeed, the more order it tried to enforce, the more unstable it be came. Soon, the world was at war over nothing, over everything, over order. Order tried orderly weapons; the most orderly were fusion and fission. So orderly were they that their instability made 425

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma radiation inevitable. After radiating itself thoroughly, order was fairly well wiped out. In the ashes of civilization were left radiated idiots. In a world of decay, these mindlessly chaotic followers adapted. They formed loosely organized bands and hunted the toxic creatures; they gathered their radioactive flora. The primitive and natural tribal system of squaws and braves guided by a chief they followed. They existed not because of order, but because of chaos. Chaos was “[their] way, [their] truth, and [their] life.” Free of order, they formed a new, brave world. MEMO TO: Pheleppi FROM: Teverance RE: Sounds familiar, though not quite You should definitely expand upon this and prevent others from thinking you a complete Hux ley ripff. Oh yes, I must stress this, you need more simple sentences. They are the only methods of conveying profoundly conjuncted thought. MEMO TO: Teverance FROM: Pheleppi RE: Donne's wrong “Men Should Be Islands” It were better if a man were an island. As such, he could never hurt anyone or be scorned. Rejec tion amiss, he'd have nothing but loneliness and radical ideas to populate the hours. Doesn't this seem worth losing the joys of an occasional moment in a special someone's company? MEMO TO: Pheleppi FROM: Teverance RE: Ripoff In response to your question, go get laid. I would be intrigued to know what is occurring in your socially personal life. I have a small inkling that you read John Donne recently. You seem to have been imitating [flattering] others a lot lately. 426

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma MEMO TO: Teverance FROM: Pheleppi RE: Communism “Humans Are Not Made to Be Alone” Humans have evolved into a social group. We form friendships, collaborate, and gossip. Impor tant decisions are made in groups, and we care for each other as family units. It seems we are never really alone. This is probably a good thing, despite the wishes of those who hail from larger families and desire lonely solitude for thought. When alone, one thinks, and thinking will undermine the whole human race, as pensive athletes are far more dull than exciting. If one is alone for too great a period, ideas become quite radical and eventually evolve into the higher thoughts of lunacy. Though lovable, usable, and prevalent, no one needs another crazy per son, expect for the few remaining asylums. Ergo, humans are not made to be alone. MEMO TO: Pheleppi FROM: Teverance RE: Capitalism That is an interesting social observation you have made. I will say no more. MEMO TO: Teverance FROM: Pheleppi RE: Yellow things “Banana Republic” Imagine a banana: perfection. However, the peel is a facade adept at deftly disguising the strings of life. The core may once have been decently good, yet it has been layered subtly with decep tive asphyxiators. Imagine what would chance if bananas governed. Fat, ripe bananas would sneeringly peer down from the tree's hierarchical heights at the other bananas. Difficult to access due to height's power, they'd thoughtlessly suffer those of the lower branches to suffer. In each would be the same core, good fruit since the beginnings. Yet the puppet strings and motives would be masked by a gen eralized peel. Imagine what a republic should be as if of, by, and for bananas. It would be a republic where strings are even attached to “free.” A cold land emotionally would be created, as bananas possess no heart, only a core. A utopia wherein the whole is as pure as the mixed motives anchored by the sub 427

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma tle strings would this prove to be. A banana may be plucked there, yet another shall fill its hole and position with little upset, uproar, or care. MEMO TO: Pheleppi FROM: Teverance RE: America, America, God shed... Was this allegorical? Do you dislike bananas? MEMO TO: Teverance FROM: Pheleppi RE: Another read “Conscience” Were I King Claudius, Hamlet surely would have mortally smitten me by now. “The play's the thing wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king” spake he, and my conscience is caught during the week seven days, and not only is it captured by plays. I am weak , a sinner, and human. Weaker than most at that—I have no backbone and am over run by others. During the perusal of volumes, whether at home or with scholars, biting remarks sting mine guilty conscience. The visage momentarily suffers a pallid and pained snap, and returns to the brooding mask of calm that hides my trespasses. In the brooding find I a more harsh punish ment of selfjudgment, a gnawing pensiveness and relentless pestilence that feeds even in the night. I must wonder if the writers put the words there to bite. If they did, they do. Surely am I given away to some who know me better. If I were to disclose my conscience's capture, I would feel bet ter; it matters not what others think. Death is a welcome embrace to run to after a lonely existence of imposthumous guilt. MEMO TO: Pheleppi FROM: Teverance RE: How do I break this? No one cares about feelings anymore. Romanticism is dead, and this piece does not look that great either. Indeed, it's not even good romance, if such could possibly exist. Don't bother. My, that was easy. 428

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma MEMO TO: Teverance FROM: Pheleppi RE: Mirrors “Reflections upon My Shrinking World” In a world small enough as it is, there is no room for that which would decrease spaciousness and densify. True, compression can be had, yet it enforces order. Order builds up the pressure of chaos. Eventually implosion is inevitable. like the bang of supernova, all shall be released; what was reduced to nothingness and only heat left. How can two masters serve another, feudalism's no more? How can one master be supreme over quarreling factions? Space is the stuff nightmares consist of, and it is never empty. My bubbled world was filled with continual shrinking under the pressures of loathing. There is no more room for aught else, lest some laws of physics be broken. MEMO TO: Pheleppi FROM: Teverance RE: I thought I broke it? Charming, if this was elaborated upon further, slightly less cryptic, and neglecting of the de pressing, then it would be better. Stop. Writing as a telegram. Stop. You do not make a good or en thralling romantic. Stop! MEMO TO: Teverance FROM: Pheleppi RE: Happiness "Death" Death is not something one can or is supposed to reconcile. Instead, one is expected by the forces of pressure to accept the simple finality and assay to forget it whilst developing and moving on. If one continues dwelling upon the event, spidering intellect and sympathies for why and how, wish ing adamantly, and pondering over the unpreventable's prevention; then one only hurts oneself and ruins one's life. 429

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma MEMO TO: Pheleppi FROM: Teverance RE: One last time. . . Short and somewhat to the point, it seems you are drifting into a set pattern of tone. This next is an attempt to sway you somewhat to a side and out of this rut. Take the hint. Write no more of this tripe. With the exception of your work , Romanticism is the most revolting era of the arts. I would burn these last few works to prevent it having a rival. Some things are just better left alone. The rebuttal follows. "Death, Part 2: Processed Meat" It is actually the unmentionable stuff inside of hotdogs and processed meat that makes them delectably tasty. The fact that one's brushing with death at each bite is quite exhilarating. There, now that wasn't terribly difficult or long, was it? MEMO TO: Teverance FROM: Pheleppi RE: The tube "Television" Society ever looks for a scapegoat to pin the troubles of today upon, as it hasn't the courage to see the root of the maladies. Such a scapegoat has the television become. People see the violence and profanity through that mystical black tube, and, yet, though worse is heard and sometimes done in the individual homes, the television is the evil corrupter, especially of teens. For that which does not occur in the home, the said violence represents what should not be committed. It teaches not to kill or maim, etc., in a subtly underappreciated way. Truly, television has had a positive influence on teenagers as it is educational, keeps them out of trouble, and is misused due to a poor family unit. All is educational, in some manner, if only we choose to attentively heed it. Indeed, one is con stantly learning, even should one fail to realize the fact, or that knowledge is power and should be greatly sought after. The television is one of the most holistic and easily accessible mediums for learning. To remove television would not remove the blemish of strife and violence marring our soci ety, but only impose ignorance. Ignorance only ensures the continuity of the turmoil and contradicts the Lord's will to "be not ignorant." This black box of demons actually keeps teenagers out of trouble, believe it or not. While edu cating the teenage world, it steals its attention. If thus engrossed, adolescents cannot rob a store or slay someone. Aye, 'tis the benefit of being a couch potato. This is one of the major reasons TV is an 430

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma effective medium: it enthralls and still teaches valuable lessons on life. Knowledge can be used beneficially or detrimentally to humanity; it depends upon the person. This person is shaped by his/her family. The family is the most important aspect of lives; it teaches from birth and, to a large extent, shapes character. Therefore the misuse of knowledge gained from the tele is due to poor family units. "Poor" does not single out povertystricken families. Marry, a poor family unit may be quite wealthy monetarily, as far as possessions are concerned. But if the at titudes alienate and horrid examples and standards are set, then it is quite poor indeed. Besides, if parents truly are worried about what their children view, there are means by which it can be blocked, filtered, or canceled, should subscriptions be involved. But this would just hinder the flow of the river of knowledge. Society loves to pin the blame on the donkey, which is, in this case, the television. It is wrong fully in err in this action, for the television is an excellent faucet to tap into the well of knowledge. Another important facet is that it harbors teenagers from trouble. The "negative effects" of television are honestly not the television's fault, but those of the family unit. Families make the person—even the television producers. Ergo, the television has only positive effects and the chiefest of them is knowledge; without knowledge the decisions of tomorrow cannot be made and survival would be come something of a chore. MEMO TO: Pheleppi FROM: Teverance RE: Ergo This sounds as if it has been written somewhere before. Initially, I thought this was to be about tube socks. Sadly and sorely disappointed, I battered my intellect with an unprovoked defense of television. I could see if it concerned video games; violence is great. Ask the makers of Kingpin176. MEMO TO: Teverance FROM: Pheleppi RE: Why can't we? "Friendship" If a friendship is a commodity exceeding valuable, why is one presented with the possibility to misplace one over an abstract sum of money, which only symbolically possesses worth? Volumes concerning the former friend's esteemed worth can thereby be deduced. Perhaps it is but the sinful human nature in humans to be more blindingly concerned with wealth and other worldly things. Regardless, anyone who centers existence around money has no friends to lose other than dead Pres 176 Kingpin: a lovely first person slaughter sim banned in something like 27 countries. Woohoo! 431

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma idents. Those who have lost friends over monetary issues, consider the money and then the former friend's face. Then, ponder over which smiles more often and has committed more grievously embar rassing things. MEMO TO: Pheleppi FROM: Teverance RE: Well, You've obviously grown up in a small town; friendship is an afterthought, an amusing one at that, in large, impersonal cities. Money is the prevalent concern. Your thought became more relevant with friendship's description as a commodity; more people should be able to relate, until, of course, you mention it being misplaced. Friendship can only be lost, as is said in the trite diction of clichés, or brutally severed. Inform the wealthy that money only symbolically has value and mark the up roarious reactions. A simple instruction to ponder money versus camaraderie will achieve little, for money will ultimately reign supreme on this plane. MEMO TO: Teverance FROM: Pheleppi RE: Sorrow "Beggars Are Choosers" Beggars are choosers, despite what the popular adage may state. They choose in which direction paths are trodden and blazed. They choose what is by others seen, and, therefore, what is seen not. They choose the way to induce feelings of guilty discomfit. Away from or by them, the more fortunate generally tend to walk , often in hopes to avoid them completely. These betters tend to mark them not and completely ignore. Regardless, those shall ever feel uncomfortable. If aid is given, uneasiness stems from the knowledge of the minuscule amount of help that can be personally donated and accomplished. If ignored, then discomfiture arises from the guilt of selective sight. MEMO TO: Pheleppi FROM: Teverance RE: Blasting I cannot blast at the moment, I'll be sure to later, when I am sure of what approach to take. I could play the part of the beggar and be offended, or I could seem to be a business man. I'd not know of what you babbled on about. I could assume a Rockefellertype attitude and state that the 432

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma poor are impoverished due to their own devices, but I fully realize that every human requires help at some point. Have not you heard of Habitat for Humanity? Such a group only goes to prove your statement of how a person can do little to be incorrect. Grab a hammer and stop typing me memos. Do something constructive for others. MEMO TO: Teverance FROM: Pheleppi RE: Disease "Infection" Families seem to view friends, especially those of romantic completion's nature177, through the eyes of the human immune system. Nonmembers of the immediate family are foreign bodies, and are, therefore, dangerous entities to be observed coldly until such a time when these infections must be destroyed. God forbid that actual happiness should be found with a stranger! Family secrets might be disclosed, etc. Not kith and kin, the appendages of affection must be destroyed as painfully as stupidly possibly. MEMO TO: Pheleppi FROM: Teverance RE: Disease It's nice to see that you've used the cliché kith and kin at least once. Every good writer does. What every good writer does not do so bluntly is attack the entire possible audience; some employ satire. Should teens appreciate this presently, it would be an annoyance when, as parents, the same are forced to separate passionately deceivable youth. You should fully have appreciated this truth had ye been laden with a litter and a score older, for it is sometimes in the best interests of the off spring to be single. Potential futures have become just that, only possibilities due to hotheaded youthful decisions. MEMO TO: Teverance FROM: Pheleppi RE: Drug War "Just Say No" "Just Say No." Why? What is the personal benefit? Why wear the red badge of a hypocritical 177 Those of. . . nature: romantic interests 433

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma public's outcry, the mark of what is in essence a religion? For, what is a religion but a set of govern ing beliefs for which to be discriminated against and to form biases 'gainst arbitrary evils? In this case, drugs are the evil, and a few would to make others believe through the media's propaganda of conversion. Why pledge and swear and be represented in allegiance to that dogma, when people's views and decisions vacillate as alternating current or within their minds is the truth submerged? Hypocrisy is horrid, and to take a stand currently is to possibly later commit this sin. Furthermore, some are destined to do them, to make mistakes. If it were not for these people, personal enmity and distaste would not be aroused. No examples could be given at gatherings, and commercials might become happier advertisements without the witnessing of the dead. Humans would not learn to hate things without those who err. Many learn a greater amount from mistakes than from formal education, thus Americans would be even less intelligent178. Some people just have to be screw ups. Some people just have to be the ones who won't say no. MEMO TO: Pheleppi FROM: Teverance RE: Silence MEMO TO: Teverance FROM: Pheleppi RE: Heroics "No More Heroes" To understand why I proclaim there are no more heroes, one must be quite aware of what "hero" means to me. A hero practices what he preaches, has high moral values, and above all, knows when to give up and quit. It is almost impossible to find someone who is the practitioner of that which he urges; the few who are are mainly thugs who advocate and abuse gratuitous sex, drugs, and alcohol. But, lacking moral standards, these noble sapiens cannot be heroes. Plentiful multitudes have high moral standards in oral performance, if naught else. Yet these either do not practice these ethical guardian guidelines or fail to practice a nonmoral object of promulgation or preaching. Those re maining innocents experience the heroical holocaust by failing to acknowledge the necessity of death's admission. It is lamentable that the world has sunken thus low. It is now an existence when the popula tion of trueblue 3/3 heroes has been decimated, even 2/3 heroes are scarcely found, and 1/3 heroes abound. It is quite reminiscent of Twain's comment in a novel concerning a lynch mob and how no 178 Americans. . . intelligent: other countries have out done us in education, and we are by far the biggest pill popping nation 434

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma "full man" was present. It was, at best, a large collection of cowardly halfmen. MEMO TO: Pheleppi FROM: Teverance RE: Holocaustic Mark Twain would have said that he too was a cynic. I think instead it was you who have sunken, not the world, for many always claim it's gotten worse than it once was. This is far from true, only rosecoloured memories. By the way, leave thugs alone; they are people, too! Now that I have read your irrational discourse on heroism, please feel free to peruse mine own. I rather enjoyed turning Linus Torvalds179 into a Christ figure, as ye shall shortly see. INSERT HERO ESSAY HERE MEMO TO: Teverance FROM: Pheleppi RE: Predictions "The Future Is Escape and Death" The future is the rest of our lives, a time of uncertain length and pain. This is spent endeavoring to escape reality, duty, and what we care not to see and feel. When running the race of escape, the finish line is death. Death is the termination of us all, and it is in everyone's future. Remarkably some perish more than others. MEMO TO: Pheleppi FROM: Teverance RE: Bad forecast Perish as in the last line means spiritual and emotional death, no? What possessed you to write such a depressingly fatalistic selection, for your last submission? "No More Heroes" was charming and wittily uplifting. 179 Linus Torvalds: Finnish demigod who created the Linux kernel 435

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma MEMO TO: Teverance FROM: Pheleppi RE: Lies "Truth Is the Worst Sin" Truth is the worst sin. Its painful effrontery has hurt more people than gently sparing lies. The simple truth of the matter is that truth is blunt. The lies do not pain feelings and emotions until the truth returns as unjustly as the prodigal son. If everyone knew the truth, the world would be a glummer and less imaginative place, what with no need to fabricate lies. No one can take excessive truth; even the Puritans deluded themselves. For this reason, it should be ignored, as truth can "push someone over the edge." Despair is a sudden realization of truth, and truth is the murder of spirit and mind. It steals the calm assurance lies extended, which needed not disappear. It covets the lies of our neighbor. Honouring thy father and thy mother waxes difficult when the truth is exposed, and with it flaws, sins, and imperfections. In termination, if one is to treat others how one desires them to treat us, then truth utterly violates the golden rule. MEMO TO: Pheleppi FROM: Teverance RE: As you suggest A wonderful praise of lies. Or is it? What would you have me make you believe? If ye seek praise for this work , then, of course, that is what it deserves. As I read this, it became visibly ap parent that I do not believe that we attend the same church. I would invite you into my salvation, but then you might only seek to destroy the temple with praise and lies. As well, though I am most assuredly not a Puritan, I rather hope that your argument of deception resides not solely upon Anne Hutchinson. It does contain even more concrete logic behind it such as their being members of hu manity, no? I did enjoy the final statement, but only for its use of "in termination" as opposed to "in conclusion," and the implication that humans would prefer to be lied to. MEMO TO: Teverance FROM: Pheleppi RE: Gophers "Why a Trapped Animal Is the Most Deadly" A trapped animal has had to realize that it may very likely perish. Once anything has reached this point, it becomes less worried with itself. Why should it be? The whole object then becomes to 436

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma injure the trapper and hopefully incapacitate it. If luck is with the trappee, it may slay the trapper and continue with its instinctual life. A trapped animal's deadliness originates from the loss of pride and humiliation's fear, the very things that keep many in check nowadays. MEMO TO: Pheleppi FROM: Teverance RE: Rattlers Ah, but this is not so. My fashion sense keeps me in check , nowadays. Should my thin fabrics of ornate senselessness be considered garish, loud, or clashing, then I might just die. Should this have been about humans, it would have been titled "Why a Trapped Human Is the Weakest." This is not to say that a weakness resulted in the snare, for it is often circumstance which plots and betrays. It is merely a comment on the suicidal tendencies and the foolish inclination to capitulate to demands in negotiation situations. MEMO TO: Teverance FROM: Pheleppi RE: Sup, my brotha? "Which Murder Is More Unnatural?" Unnatural Murder—to kill a family member. Despite the unnaturalness of this sort of heinous action, patri, matri, sui, and fratricide oc cur too often enough. It seems that a more rare and obscene murder is through love. The physical shrouds of flesh mayst be preserved when obliterating someone's spirit and being in the name of love. Would it not be deemed more unnatural to achieve the reverse effect of desires and affection? It indeed happens, and this murder is more painful and effects more suffering than a mere swift stroke. After this murder—an annihilation of spirit and mind—will the victim effectively survive life or the hereafter? It is more unnatural to destroy through love. MEMO TO: Pheleppi FROM: Teverance RE: Not much homedawg So, what you're trying to say here is that it is more unnatural to destroy through love? Animals love to eat and kill through that affection. Do not some dams of rodent species, etc., become canni bals upon bearing the first litter? Do you not think that some carnivores enjoy eating? A lioness must butcher to eat. 437

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma MEMO TO: Teverance FROM: Pheleppi RE: Percentages "50% of the Right Choices" Is there anyone extant, or has there ever been, who can boast that one has made seventyfive or even fifty percent of the right choices in one's life? A personal question this may be, but the answer is undoubtedly no. Fifty percent of all the choices one has ever made can scarcely be attainable. Current divorce rates exemplify this. The statistic that everyone will be in at least four car crashes in life points to the fallacious decisions of drivers. Then, Christmas shopping, juries, and the me chanics of language must be tallied and considered. Choosing to misspell words, even subcon sciously, is a decision. The placement, diction, and usage are also decision. It seems that with all the mudslinging of politicians that they have made even fewer correct decisions than most. MEMO TO: Pheleppi FROM: Teverance RE: Ratios But if the right decisions were always made, no knowledge would be attained. People learn through mistakes, as well as become entertained via home videos and political mudslinging. This was previously discussed in the "Just Say No?" section, no? Would you really desire a perfect soci ety? That would require order in grammar, law, and behavior, and, based upon your "Balance of New Ideas," this would destroy the creation of new ideas. Knowing you, jealousy at one for being your superior in language, etc., would develop. By the way, I just paid you a great compliment. Not only did I remember your work , but I also referenced it. MEMO TO: Teverance FROM: Pheleppi RE: Innocent bondage "The Once and Future Innocence" Man is innocent at birth. He lets others care for him. Indeed, he has no choice in the matter. Then, the responsibilities of selfmaintenance is he forced, or at least expected, to assume. It is at this moment he loses innocence. A life of turmoil and confusion ensues, and, at the end, man must be attended by others, again. The innocence returns and sometimes ushers in a mental innocence. 438

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma MEMO TO: Pheleppi FROM: Teverance RE: Caustic Would you write something as deep and vexing at an old and venerable age? Will you keep this to pore over and torment yourself with when aged? I know as a babe you couldn't. Innocence has its merits. MEMO TO: Teverance FROM: Pheleppi RE: Pride "Religious Prejudice" Religions instill prejudice. Despite commandments not to judge others, and such, it occurs. Some of the most devout people are some of the most prejudiced. History proves this point. Throughout the history of the Catholic church, "heretics" and other re ligions have been persecuted. It was just not healthy to be a Jew or Muslim during the Inquisition. The Islamic church felt superior to the infidels of other faiths, and even if one would fain argue that Muslims are, the point is that such is prejudice. The Hebrews, while carving out their own share of Canaan, were ordered not to mix with those other peoples in that land and to kill them all. Depending upon interpretation, this might be considered biased or slanted. Even today in Northern Ireland, Catholics and Protestants lose their lives because of the hatred between religions. This also occurs between the Jews and Palestinians. Frequently. In personal experience, this has held true as well. Once I, like a handful of my friends, was ex tremely prejudiced by association, for no tangible reason. This resulted in me missing out on some re ally great music, not because of the work itself, but because it was esteemed taboo by the Christian churches, or at least those in the locale. The Pumpkins actually made good music, but the songs were sung by someone other than Veggie Tales. These same people that will not expand their musi cal tastes are the same ones that frequently glance over a person, judge them, refuse, outside of gos sip, to acknowledge the possibility of their existence, and remain unwilling to, if not befriend, ac quaint that person and his mind. 439

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma MEMO TO: Pheleppi FROM: Teverance RE: Jane Austin Personal issues aside, everyone judges, even should one not be aware of it. I'd like to warn you that this could step upon toes, faiths, and friendships. But, with its slim odds of being read, it probably won't. MEMO TO: Teverance FROM: Pheleppi RE: Hezbollah "Terrorism" Modern religion is terrorism. One isn't inspired to attain heavenly salvation or to desire to praise Him, so much as to avoid going to the other place. The Bible tells significantly more about that Hell than it does about that City. It dwells upon the woeful outcome of sinners and the great gnashing of teeth. Revivals and religious events almost always end with some comment stating, "Re pent sinners, for you could be riding home in thirty minutes, partake in an accident, and go straight to Hell!" One is more or less frightened into salvation and not led to the glory for the proper pur pose, which is Love. MEMO TO: Pheleppi FROM: Teverance RE: Perpetuity A definite accompaniment to "Religious Prejudice," this is quite complementary and thoughtful. Don't expect anything to change, though. Should this happen, do not believe the lie. I would not blame the churches, but only human nature. Well is it known that we are guided and directed by fear and greed, not love. If inspiration was sought, then more classics and poetry would be read and far fewer trashy romance novels. It is, after all, called harlequin—the name of a fool or buffoon— for good reason. 440

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma MEMO TO: Teverance FROM: Pheleppi RE: Cosine, tangent "The Joys of Sin" Sex is a sin and great evil; there will be none in heaven. When Adam and Eve were yet pure, God shielded them from thus. After the fruit fiasco, He punished them in many ways, and sex was one of them. Many of the "pleasures" of this earth are no more than a punishment meted out by God as the retribution of life. Should humans experience the lust and greed and fame which are taken for granted to be the pillars of earthly civilization, then mortals will appreciate the subservient poverty and insignificance Heaven promises. But, though God would punish us with sin, he would not turn us loose to its anarchy sans repercussions. If one can do without, then one is much better for this abstinence.; for it breeds char acter. Sex is the perfect example of this. Adam and Eve were protected from it by innocence, as all are, initially. With the loss of innocence, it became a punishment. As sex evolved into a taboo splen dour, the punishment required its own punishment. Pregnancy served as the protection against un wed trespass, for it was telling. Humanity countered this with forms of birth control. God would not be toyed with and plagued the wretched with disease; one should not sin sans punishment. As we humans cure disease after disease, the question now becomes "As what will the next divine preg nancy prevention scheme manifest?" MEMO TO: Pheleppi FROM: Teverance RE: Cosecant Right. I think , perhaps, God will make people read the things you've written. When humanity is dead of suicide, then He wont' have to worry about pregnancy and sin. MEMO TO: Teverance FROM: Pheleppi RE: Slips "Cult" A lack of faith could lead to severe doubts in Christianity. In particular, fears such as what if Jesus was not the real Messiah could arise. It would be painful to question whether or not the New Testament was a collection of brainwashing halftruths of a cult led by someone disillusioned who 441

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma would disillusion us all. "AntiAgnostic" There must be a god. This is the only explanation for the empty hole in man that nor woman nor beast cannot fill. This gaping pit has resulted in the creation of god(s) for each culture. The hierar chy differs greatly among monotheists and polytheists and animists, but there is always a god. MEMO TO: Pheleppi FROM: Teverance RE: Slides "AntiAgnostic" is a nice recovery for "Cult." I cannot gage how much it might placate the anger at the first one, though. It is, after all, only a statement of the obvious. If you had included some thing about creation and catastrophe, perhaps it would sway more sentiment. It is not enough to proclaim that every culture has a chieftain entity, this is common knowledge. I suppose you consider atheists subhuman? MEMO TO: Teverance FROM: Pheleppi RE: How beautiful it is "Think You're In Love" One always thinks one's in love, but love does not exist. There's a difference between making love and fooling oneself into believing that one possesses an intangible feeling for another person. One thinks that s/he is the only mortal for one, when one really knows that a few months later the feeling that one found and touted as unique, as expressed by the common delusion of an ejaculation, "I've never felt this way about anyone before" will be attached to another person. MEMO TO: Pheleppi FROM: Teverance RE: I know Is this a criticism of teenage idiocy? Is there anyone in particular to whom this is addressed? I'm sensing consternation. Tell me now did you once love me? Was I the object that caused you to fret and feel exuberant? I'll be waiting for no reply. 442

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma MEMO TO: Teverance FROM: Pheleppi RE: Shortness "Friendship: Again" Perhaps the reason friends are easier to get along with than family is because one does not have to live with a friend's faults and annoyances. One also does not have to get constrained and re strained and trapped by the will and decisions of a friend, as much. MEMO TO: Pheleppi FROM: Teverance RE: As always You do realize I'm only satirical, etc., when I have nothing better to say, no? MEMO TO: Teverance FROM: Pheleppi RE: About the Author "Huh" It is my biggest fear that I will leave this world completely misunderstood. True, it may possibly be impossible to understand me to the utmost, yet I may have the power to enlighten some as to who I am more clearly. I have done many foolish things behind sundry fleeting masks of moments. "There is method in his madness" Shakespeare would say, but then, he's bisexual, and therefore does not count. Ambigu ity is what allows me to say and do things, for I choose the underdog meanings and reasonings that few would expect normally, at least in where I was when this was written. I wonder what I will do when I have driven all my friends away? Make flimsy acquaintances for <pick your type of the six> love? I have frightened aaaaahhh. . . 443

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Chapter XXVII Lewd Reference Dictionary Adultery: 1. Acting like a grown up. 2. The national pastime of the French. Ass: 1. A Biblical animal that many people resemble. 2. What is kissed to get ahead in life. 3. A driver that cuts one off. Asshole: 1. A sinkhole that opens up magically to swallow a driver that cuts one off. 2. A pit full of Biblical animals. Asswipe: An often necessary swipe that wipes away lipstick , etc., right before one kisses up. Bitch: 1. A female. 2. The act of being female. 3. What a female does. Bite me: An invitation used by cannibals to show their love for someone. Blow job: The typical occupation of a congressman or other political blowhard. Cat house: Where a woman spends her time after doing a very naughty act that her husband dis approves of; the female version of the doghouse. Chlamydia: The reward for Spring Breakers who played the lottery. Most of them will be disap pointed that they did not win, but at least most of them will have something to take home. Damn: The crucial word of the 90s band "The Damn Yankees." Yankees would not be expressive enough by itself. Dick: see penis. Dickhead: One of the lazy sons of bitches that is supposed to debug Microsoft software. Dildo: Slang term for money made by pickle farmers. Dipshit: 1. The gross germs and trash left by people who dip the same snack in dip more than once. 2. A person who does this. Fuck: 1. A Latin dance that stared a craze much in the same way the Barracuda did—everyone is doing it. 2. Every other word in a gansta rap song. 3. Something sick for old people to do. Fucked: 1. Messed up. 2. Used goods. 3. Danced. Fucking nightmare: Someone that it would be scary even to imagine doing the Latin dance with. Fuck you: 1. A polite way of saying "haha," "leave me alone," "go away," or "I'm going to kill you if you don't leave me alone in a second." 2. Constructive means of expressing anger. 3. Phrase that may follow the words "Can I?" Gangbang: a hoedown where the local hoodlums assemble and hit drums and bongos and such repetitively. God dammit: The prayer of many an African people who live in unindustrialized nations and know that the only way for their countries to be able to harness the hydroelectric power of their rivers is for God to do it Himself. Late: When preceded by "I am" a way to scare a male. 444

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Penis: A passion fruit; it becomes bitter once bitten. Penguin: Black and white flightless bird of Antarctica and portions of Australia, considered the most indecent of all birds. Per iod: 1 Collection of four days that ruin a man's month of happiness. 2. Mark of punctuation that concludes an imperative sentence said by a woman during these four days. 3. What a male does not want a female to miss. Per vert: A measurement of the brain's thoughts. A standard thought is a process. The per vert measurement is a ratio of how many processes occur per every vert—a changed, twisted, and/or cor rupted process. The normal ratio is 5 processes per vert (5:1) When the ration becomes 0 processes per every vert (0:1,) then drooling and wet dreams become inevitable. Piss: The sound a snake with a lisp makes. Rimming: The act of prying rims almost completely off of tires so that they will fly off when the car turns. Safe sex: Judging by insurance rates, females, since they pay one third of what males do to drive. Sex: 1. Popular question on applications and test forms. 2. Gender. 3. A drug similar to crack. Sexfiend: A person addicted to the drug sex. Shit: The most evil being in the galaxy who causes one to scream his name in fear or apprehension when seen. To his devout followers, he is known as "Holy" and is sometimes revered with the word "O." Shithead: Collective term with negative connotations for the followers of Shit. Used in much the same manner as "skinhead." Sodomy: The branch of Geology that specializes in sod, or dirt. Son of a bitch: Taken logically, a bitch is a female, thus her son is a male. 445

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Some Reasons I Like Computers More Than the People That Operate Them 1. I actually understand computers <unlike humans—especially women.> What I do not compre hend I know has a tangible explanation. 2. Computers do not demand my time; I gladly give it them. 3. Computers do not change, unless I change them physically. 4. Computers are not bothered with emotions. 5. Computers do not care what my hair looks like. 6. I can have fun with a computer without risking my health or embarrassment. 7. Computers do not require me to tell jokes, dance <without a good cause,> conform to society's barbaric ways <completely voluntary,> or tell secrets. They do not dissemble and are more easily re placeable than friends. 8. Replacing computer parts is remarkably easier and less painful than replacing body parts. 9. Taking it fast with computers is always a good idea. 10. Computers do not need food; I do not have to share with them. 11. Computers beep, which I find to be a lot more polite than burping. 12. You can get rid of unwanted things by hitting delete; you just cannot legally do that with hu mans. 13. They do not ask if they are fat. 14. They can be muted. 446

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma The New English Handbook for Starting and Maintaining Your Cult PURPOSE: Why should you create your cult? There are any number of reasons. Among them are boredom, fame, and immortalization in bad jokes. Others are to make a difference, hatred of your nine to five job, to be different, and because you can. NOTE: It is generally not a good idea to form a cult for the purpose of being immortalized in bad jokes. RELIGION: A key factor in all successful cults is religion. Make sure your group concerns itself with some dogmatic practices. It is quite popular, and preferred, that you, the leader, take on a Messiahtype role. People (other current cult members) are generally unhappy and confused with religion. The re sulting search renders them more open to your ploy, and, as such, your cult will grow and prosper. NOTE: It is generally accepted that Satanism and AntiChrist roles scare off and provide people with the wrong opinions of your cult. MEMBERS: Dwell upon the weakminded. These generally happen to be the wealthy youth, as they have had to face the horrors of the real world not. They are, by rule, gullible, easy to brainwash, and eas ily controlled. Another niche facet to this segment of society is that they have the wealth that may come in handy for funding your cult. These weakminded fools also include the "academically impaired." These are easy enough to con trol. They become excellent servants as well, as they have to live by orders, not thinking. These non thinkers also tend to remain loyal due to the lack of capacity to think for themselves. Another way to cultivate members is to select those who have had it rough. They will desire and need someone who understands and cares. Therefore, be there for them, at least at first. Once they believe you honestly care, they are your loyal followers. These hardened followers have the advan tages of thought, which will be dedicated to your causes, and realworld experiences which just might ensure the survival of your cult. NOTE: It is generally a good idea to enlist members from all three groups and to develop a caste system. Let the wealthy ones believe they have power, but put the real power into the hands of those that have had hard lives, to date. VIOLENCE: 447

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Try to stay away from excessive violence, as the government will get involved. A flock normally tends to flock to nonviolent outfits. Retain the illusion of pacifism, but, by all means, keep several devoted members who abhor not but revel in violence around in the event that the FBI comes knocking at your bunker. NOTE: It is generally in your best interest to brainwash your followers into believing that the gov ernment must die at all costs, even if you run a "nonviolent" outfit. SUICIDE: All cults should have a backup plan. This is normally suicide. Worry not with the place you shall spend the hereafter in, and remember that with your religion you should allay your flock's fears on suicide. NOTE: Do not give examples on suicide, unless the Federal Government is besieging your bunker. 448

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Advice for/During the Wooing of a Woman Ask her: "Would you like a frontal lobotomy?" "What colour are your panties?" "If I buy you a clear thong, will you model it for me?" "Do you have a problem with cellophane or whip cream?" "Does the sight of whips or chains intimidate or frighten you in any way?" "Hey, why don't you have breasts like all the other girls?" "Do you mind if I bring a friend?" "What's your friend's number?" "Do you have a sister, in case things with us don't work out?" "Is your mother still around?" "Would you like to have my twelve children? I mean literally have them. I don't want them any more. Please?" "Are you really only twenty? You look a lot older. . . " "Hypothetically, if I were, I don't know, say fourteen would it still be okay for us to be lying here in bed together? What's five years difference have to do with it? I mean, what would it have to do with it? This is all hypothetical." "Are you sure you're not blonde?" "You wouldn't mind cooking and cleaning all the time, would you?" "Would you like to move to a nudist colony with me?" "You're not any relation to me, are you? Last time, I wound up dating my sister. You know what was even stranger. . . ?" "I like those shoes. May I try them on? How about that dress?" Tell her: "Your eyes are as blue as tanned cataracts." "You have a boyfriend? I can make you forget him." "Kissing you is like getting a frontal lobotomy over and over and over." "I feel a little emasculated by the fact that you have to shave more often than I do." "You're wrong!" "Wow, your friend's pretty!" "Wow, I wish you looked like that!" "I have the strangest rash. . ." "Don't worry. I like women who are flat." "Murder isn't a real crime. It's not like I was in for Grand Theft Auto or anything." "Don't worry that you're not smart; all I want is your body." 449

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma "And one time, my exwife cut off Mr. Happy. But after the initial sorrow, he got happy again." "My last wife left me. Something about I hit her too hard or too much or something. I don't know, she was kinda crazy. Like one time she actually wanted me to take her brother off the meat hook in the closet. What a nut case." "I would undress, but you'd probably go running and screaming the other way." "One time, my priest had to perform an exorcism on me. Boy, that was sure fun!" "I can speak in tongues. Here, I've got a message for you." "You do more for me in that way than a bucket of KFC extra crispy fried chicken, and, for a South erner, that's something." "You do more for me than a bean burrito, and you don't give me gas, either!" 450

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Some Less Than Interesting Thoughts, Musings, and Not so Witty Banter to Ponder or to Spout in Everyday Conversation "If people did unto others as they would have others do unto them, there would be no telemarket ing." "If girls are always falling for the wrong guys, does that make me the right guy for every girl?" "It's always helpful to know how ostriches have sex, in case you are one in the next life." "Be nice to men with guns, they may be having a bad day." "The easiest thing to do is to close my eyes and think of nude midgets." "The key to seeing more of each other is nudity." "I always thought sex was just an excuse to do odd things with whip cream." "I may sound pretentious, but don't let that fool you." "Even if I may not respect yours, I do have feelings, too." "I am my own best fairweather friend." "Slow and steady wins the race, unless your knees are busted, and you're sprayed with mace." "You can never go wrong with whip cream." "I would call you Satanspawned, but I'm not sure if you didn't spawn Satan yourself." "It's not that I'm oldfashioned, it's that I'm unfashioned." "Nudity isn't always the best answer." "The plus side for dating a drug addict? Who needs date rape when your date is drugged up?" "Is there meaning to existence, or are we put here for a reason?" "Being all alone in thoughts and views is what being cynical is all about." "I'm the same as I was since I was like this." "What I say is meaningless to others and of less value to me." "I don't have time to concern myself with your pathetic worldI have a much more petty life to live and less important concerns to deal with." "I'm so far behind I wish I could die today." "Judge me by how I am in bed, because you'll probably never have that honour." "Ignorance is bliss, except during tests." "I'd much rather be called a loser or stupid than be thought one and not have the recognition." "I have no problems with kids; they understand." "I may not have my dignity, but I still have my toothbrush." "Something's rotten in the state of decay." "You know the world is in trouble when 'crack ho' and 'ghetto' are part of everyday language." "How do you catch a plane? Isn't that dangerous? Do they make nets that big, and is it like catch ing a cold—once you get it, you can't get rid of it?" "I guess that's my tragic flaw—I tend to want to solve everything by shattering someone's kneecaps." 451

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma "Feeling depressed and lonely? Cheer up, maybe you'll find some unfortunate girl in a drunken stupour one day." "'Got MLK?' should be the logo of black history month." "Mommas don't let your babies grow up to be hitchhikers or bikers or at all." "It's like falling off a bike; you never forget how." "Everyone needs something to look forward to, or behind, whichever the case may be and where you stand." "Don't ask me, I just. . . just don't ask me." "When I look at the world in abhorrence, I think of you, and I know that there is still good left. I think." "Like muddy water in the desert on a cold day in Sheol." "Whup yore ASCII." "I'd rather be thought a pervert than an idiot." "Maybe if they were doublejointed. . ." "Heroin is a terrible thing, and a heroine is a terrible thing to waste: too messy. Not that I know." "Serial killers are safer than a mad woman." "No one is the best company; he doesn't ask unwanted questions and can make you do quite enter taining things." "Headaches are the key to success, whether you give headaches, have a headache, or are a headache." "I'm quite disturbed, and, disturbed, often surprising." "There are bigger fish in the sea to fry." "Well, I hope that whatever will happen will happen, because if it didn't happen I would be con fused." "War is simply the time in any country's history when the government humours the sickos, freaks, and homicidal maniacs to keep them happy." "Nothing can stop the US Postal Service but Sundays." "In the South, is it considered incest when you like a person who seems almost like a brother or sister to you, or when you 'go with them?' But even if you did, would it matter here?" "I love you is just a string of words; a kiss is from the heart." "A tanning bed is always a fun place to meet strangers; just hop under there with them." "Maybe the reason the rapture hasn't happened quite yet is because God is waiting for you to have sex to literally catch you with your pants down." "I'm in love with someone in this world, and until I figure out who, no one can be happy!" "I have a hangunder—it's where you have the headache without getting drunk." "My stories always seem to unravel like a bad piece of cloth." "There are those that consider friends merely expendable resources, but I feel they are more valuable since it takes me longer to make a friend that I can afford to lose!" "If wishes were horses, I'd have a ranch." 452

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma "Today's been hectic in a calm and peaceful kind of way." "Don't do anything in your dreams that I wouldn't." "If you could have any tooth pulled for me, which one would it be?" "Have a ménageàtrois with only two people: get a schizophrenic hermaphrodite." "If the answer to the question is 'a dead body, a bloody spoon, and a can full of worms,' then don't ask it." "Never say 'Oh, my God!' in the presence of a preacher." "Football is repetitive, but nowhere as good as techno." "Never tell a woman she's wrong." "No one wants a black rose." "Nothing is always an option." "Depression is the male version of sorrow." "Being crazy doesn't make you insane." "Loss of rights and oppression is normal, in the most abnormal way." "Pain is a means of expression." "Never abuse your slave labor, lest it become unhappy with its station." "Ambition is a sin for the rich; love is a sin for the poor." "Nothing is wasted unless you don't try. That is a waste of thought and being." "Weird dreams are always the best; you just have to disguise them, like so many other things." "Losers exist because of other people." "Once it becomes personal, it becomes perverted." "You know what you mean, but can rarely express it." "If thy hand offendeth thee, cut it off. What if thine neighbor's hand offendeth thee more, though?" "We are all children avoiding the circumstances of change." "All men are created unequally for specialization." "I am nothing if not partially honest." "Pain is in painting." "You don't see many skating parties for infants." "Good music never dies, it is merely forgotten." "The difference between being of use and being used is gratification." "My ignorance is why I can sleep at night." "What he doesn't know, he won't have to forget." "Breaking up is like waxing—it hurts." "I'd rather have your money than your acceptance." "I'm ready when you aren't." "To admit defeat is to acknowledge humanity." "No one's ever what they seem." "Never have faith in anyone." 453

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma "Humans are flawed and will inevitably let you down." "Go to Yale." "Black is to the soul as cellophane is to the body." "Your Death shall set you free." "Independence is not freedom." "Time is addicted to uppers and downers, and just leaves me depressed." "The essence of living is making things as hard upon yourself as possible and seeing if you can man age to survive." "I tell you the truth, at least, how I see it. Truth is judgmental and biased; fact isn't." "I'm here in this world, just torture me like everyone else." "I wish I had gone to nowhere and stayed there." "We only know we don't want our lives because we're intelligent enough to realize how shoddy and worthless this world is." "I'm tired of living, but I was put here to suffer and help others at my own expense." "Why don't you hear my unspoken words?" "There are those which are omnivorous for love, content to sup upon crumbs from anyone's tables." They say laughter is the very best medicine, but no matter how much I laugh or make myself laugh, I just keep getting sicker on the inside.” “I don't understand anything, anyone, or anything; and while ignorance should be bliss, somehow it has worked out not to be.” “Hamlet was the Original Goth. Look at him. He wore black , talked of suicide, acted crazy, was constantly depressed, lost many of his friends to death, and brooded constantly.” 454

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Widdles I am a Southern pastime. I am the root of Southern shame. I am what you deny. I am what others scorn. I am why you are. I am what you fear to guess. I am. . . well, what am I? Nbreedeen Slithering around Like a snake on the ground. While slithering along, You're what I found. You're lower than the earth; You're lower than me. But what on earth can you be? Sen I am you; you are me. Don't scoff, sneeze, nor cough! When you are sick , I'm attacked by disease. Can you guess what I am? Tell me, please? Tisyou I descend as a locust Upon fertile fields growing Before the harvest has come. Small but many am I, Yet swollen overall, Whilst devouring new buds Of green previously unbaked By the hostile sun. Black am I as night, And present only a short while, 455

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma But my effects are longlasting and Devastatingly irreparable. If I were to say I was Swollen as a bloatéd corpse, What destruction would You say that I am? Tean Pwegnunsea My best friend, ever at My side where he's always Been, even before he met I, and I became acquainted With the abstract workings Of his demonself that Lets me gage what consistent Temper he is in, which Tells me what I should Presently be doing. Though I am not always in Approval of his actions And decisions of rashness And sporadic attempts to Rush me or interrupt, I cannot help but to Support him. Thyme An easy lover whose List of lovers emptily Grows bigger constantly, I am old but in the Prime of my health when I'm Compared to those of my Loves who've died of age And violence in the greedy Urge to expand their power's Girth. I've been promiscuous Since birth. Who am I? 456

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Younaverse Unlike butter I am Healthy, thinly spread, and Do not inflame wounds when Placed atop. Though I am Spreadable, I am oft' wadded And less frequently consumed. Behdsprahed The new kid at school, I am Wellloved superficially At first by those who don't Bother to acquaint me At the first meeting and take Their interpretations thus Unjustly. Misunderstood, Thus have I words and meanings Stored far from the collective Conscious. But soon am I cast Aside contemptuously by Friends of sporadic fair weather. Mewzique I saw everything Visible through you and Your moods that vary from Place to time to purpose. Astray, you did leave me Unknown and scared in our Absence of love. But e'er Do you return with your Mood swings' loving, till you Are turned off. But I know That faintly you still watch Me and love me hiddenly When I cannot see Who you are. Do I know? 457

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Lyete Females can't be trusted; I've known and heard too much About your wickédness. I don't blame you for the Original sin but For many deaths. I know Some men would like to think Of you as tools, but any Confident of domination Are fools. In a second of Playfulness or confidence You mince peace and shatter the Intimate and fondling Relationship. I promise This is an unloaded Question; what is your name? Guhnn What is it that ensures The continuation Of this grand ole world? What Makes for interesting And repetitive news Coverage? What makes for A greatly amusing Form of entertainment? What makes one want to cry? Vielints I once saw many an Orator without words Who spoke volumes in their Silence. They used not sign Language to express their World's view of things, but a Particular choice of 458

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Clothing which each compared To another and used This for promotion and Rank. Also of note were The bathing habits which Differed from voice to speaker And spoke of travels and life More than their tongue. I was Never able to find out Their name. Does anyone know? Shoohs Masked behind the facade Of sudden pouting I Verily saw the strangest Thing. A billboard of blown lights Proclaimed a virtue sacred Enough to restrict most Speech in efforts to make Each word as sacred as Before. Tell me gravely If you can tell no other What virtue this might be. Salumnuhtea I'm too lazy to tell you; You'll have to tell me What can make a person Happy, what makes one less Skilled, and what wastes time as A mob hitman. NDoughlints The great seductress, I was Forged in steam and playful words Misperceived. I am armoured In manmade synthetics that Like the plastics in surgery 459

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Disguised my figure and lead The damnéd to destruction And social love that corrodes. If you see me on the road Driving by it's already Too late, someone's sold their soul To me and, like a wolf, it I have eaten. Name me if You dare or could not care While I sleep away the Social pillars and rabble. Rayghe Such a back ground has a Slimming effect upon The nearby who, for fear Of hurting the pride of The artist who laboured Diligently lacking The creative talent To impress other than with sheer Repugnance, remains silent of Artistic criticism. O Beesahtee They saw all when, fully Clothed in this, I ventured Forth into the tanning Sun. I didn't intend To expose all, but it Rather happened by consequence. I should've gat garbed in faith. Sailofain Like hieroglyphics to Byzantines, these elude Comprehension and tend To be more like works of 460

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Artistic amusement and Awe of the world's oppressing Enigma. How is it that Languages die as people And histories are shattered? How is that great are Forgotten and the common Grunt that established most of Greatness is oppressed by Oblivion? Why can Someone be unloved, and Why can one be deceived? Pea Pul There is no stopping them from Attacking the innocents, Breaking laws, and pressuring By fear a person to See their way. They are the most Continual terrorism, And are set to stay that way. No government can stop them, Though everyone may try To ignore them or placate Their demands. This group's truly Too unified in its Splintered special forces. I would tell you to run if You could possibly escape, But even then you would See the effects of this in Your life. What so plagues Humanity mercilessly? Thacherchuz Bloodthirsty vermin who Attack to compensate For what they could never 461

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Make, they lack touch with the Host's intent while they drain And sicken and have small Brains and the lamented Ability to ever Be wrong. With opposable Thumbs they latch on, rate the Host's soul and do smugly Snicker. What is the name For this parasite much Like a flea, tick , or chigger? Chritick I saw someone happy today As well as morally sound. it Was the most spiritually Revolting thing I've ever found. I couldn't grasp his joy, For the solemn weight of God Must surely bring you down. Then, after spying his Decorred altars I realized His err to be that He was one of these. Paygun Life works in strange oddities, I once was pulled by a bike. Shortly thereafter a Younger lad was viewed dragging Me behind his trike. For both Of these lads a congruent Object wellused and handed Down, me, provided happiness And purpose for no destructive Toll. What am I? Resighculled Kan 462

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma I had come out of an Oven freshbaked and tasty, Eager to be devoured And complement the other Sandwich parts here in the Delicatessen. But then a latexed hand Grabbed me and stuck me under Glass that's meant for other's Protection. Unable To cry aloud. I was Silently angered by A rending knife piercing My crusty hide. Inside The slit white pus was smeared And nasty black olives, Depitted. More rotten Vegetation which clashed Disrespectfully with What I was was thrown inside The gap and I was slowly Consumed. I asked myself Into what I had been made. Uh Substatoot Rather awkwardly and Unnaturally—Without Tongue's lapping—I was drunken From. I wondered at what would Steal my vitality And moisture. Bewildered I Looked around and saw scratches On me much as the hair on The drinker's chin. Through my Curvêd bottom I looked down At a glass pedestal And saw what I was. Glahsus 463

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Shots At first I knew Hitler to be resurrected. The nurse gravely entered the room with a tray. We kids were ordered onto our feet; something ominous foreboded. As the small cups were dispensed, I knew it to be poison. We were too young to die as adults, why should we be subject to mercy killings? The merciless women forced our death upon us. Something miraculous then occurred to hinder our massacre. The roof top of the classroom was rent in twain, and brilliance blinded us. When the light had departed, it was evident that Nurse and Teacher had as well. In their place was a platoon of Nazi troops who had been sent to destroy God. Judging from the bloodied corpse which we had to glance at from our periphery due to its bril liant grandeur of magnificence, they had succeeded. Most of us cast our caps to the wayside. A few idiots drank; they died. The rest of us ran off into the fields of flowers, holding hands with our own personal Nazi. It was a warm and solaced time of life. They said the Panzer group was near. But, here in our perfect world, there was no inordinately long and unduly recess. Instead, the Nurses forced the toxins within. Each morning the dread fluoride swigging would transpire. Each morning our breath would smell as venomous as imitation strawberry or bubblegum. Each morning I wondered of what government test I was involved in. It grew to a point that the fluoride triggered early alcoholism. The shot glasses of many a peer would be thrown back for a moment, the contents chugged, and then slammed upon the desk. Greed ily, the glasses of those who'd been less hasty were eyed. Perhaps the fluoride is the cause of the widespread drinking of peers. Perhaps it is the reason for retardation; the toxicity was often swal lowed. Then, one day the withdrawal began. Until our biological clocks adjusted when as teen and in duced a need of retiring and arising later, never had I seen such a great amount of grumpy peers in the morning. The shot glasses had been retired and the fluoride would be administered no more. It would only become a distant memory of my first and second grades. 464

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Here Musteth I Apologizeth For These BSides I feel an immense guilt of shame for burdening what few readers I may have with this. There is yet time to escape, if one reads slowly enough to never finish or skips over the next few pages. Why are there BSides in this glorious composition? Why, only in abhorred memory of myself and to give the critics even more to deride. I have been niggardly in dedication; this next section is to myself. As the unfortunate shall see, stinginess does not pay. I would gladly donate the burden of praise and dedication to another, but that person might become even more offended than I have made him or her to date. Not only are these present for the humour, spirit, and constitution of any critic unlucky enough to have read this collection, but also to enlighten myself. Like critics I must ever be negative, and the following gives ample reason. Now that I have realized that, though the preceding works were not excellent, these are extraordinarily awful, I must beware of it. If I forget from whence darkness I came, then I may unknowingly slip into it again. I would not devolve, since I have come a long way to my nowhere. Only through mistakes do I seem to learn. 465

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Chapter XXVII BSides The following are Bsides, And they are really bad; It seems I wrote them Afore any talent I had. 5 Their existence is a crime, And I should be locked away; They are an assault upon the eyes And battery against the bright day. 466

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Life Living is the wakeful dream; Things are not as they seem. Half of it sips from sleep's cup, The other's caffeineridden to keep you up. 5 While awake death does lurk; Asleep, does he wake you just to smirk? It seems a feeble plan, To dodge the traps that're laid; But come sleep, pour me another mug, 10 For of you I'm not afraid. 467

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Dressing Up Dressing up To mask what you feel Dressing up to mask inside Mask what you are 5 Dressing up To hide your misdeed Dressing up And still inside it bleeds Dressing up 10 To go once more Dressing up On this painstricken shore 468

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Circumstance And like the wings Of a fly Circumstance has plucked And left me to die. 5 A myriad of myopic Lens focus upon my face To see the potential Wasted in this place. The maggoty cold, 10 Clammy hands extend Death e'en now leads me Down paths that I must wend. 469

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Rego I was climbing those poem trees When I faltered and broke my neck. Staring deadly at the eerie arbor, I arose to be a nervous wreck. 5 Though the bark and limbs appear Identical, they're tremulous as leaf, And after an misstep one tears With humiliation and mournful fret. Rarely is the fee death, indeed 10 There is regeneration, But only at the cost of Continual verbose regurgitation. Help, where I lie the canopy Blocks the sun of inspiration, 15 And wild thoughts, though not a good one, Form a ravenous congregation. 470

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Screw the Farmers! <There's More of “Us” Anyways> 180 Daylight savings time Plays with your mind. Spring forward; fall back In retreat to confusion's attack. 5 At 6 o'clock it's dark outside. In twelve more the sun stops its hide. It's a total mind blow When day speeds fast as it can go, But when darkness falls 10 Minutes seem not to pass at all. At seven pm it seems much later. It feels like being hit by a freighter When I fall back an hour. An unadjusted bioclock wields power 15 Unmatched by carnival rides. Slowly away an autumnal night slides. A fixéd time should be negotiated between The two standards. It would improve my mien. 180 screw. . . farmers: operates on the assumption that Daylight Savings time was invented for farmers, as some have suggested. 471

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma If Kept Busy If kept busy, One shall remember no more The ideas and loves That the brain tried to store. 5 If kept busy, Thought cannot survive; But adrenaline Brings one gladness to be alive. If kept busy, 10 One hasn't control; True freedom comes When one relaxes for a stroll. 472

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Planning Planning planning Always planning O, the gulfs of paper Your pen should be spanning 5 Spinning, spinning Your world around You see oddly Hear in unseen sound Not for others 10 Only for you Could tell us all What you knew So many joys and Experiences to share 15 But for lack of action No one will care. 473

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Love There is a sixth love Sent from above. Nameless this sixth; Nameless and pure, 5 God sent and holy, It shall endure. Not just Epithumia With its lust and desire But Epithumia plays its part 10 By lighting a blind attraction's fire. Full of the passion Wracked with sentiment The sentiment of Eros But stronger 15 More precious Never do the sands The grinding sands of time Wear down the power The bond 20 A bond of priority First on the other's mind Always on the other's mind, Those who are so Grievously stricken 25 Bound up Shackled in this love Fettered as family Loyal to each the other Belonging 30 To each other If to no one else, Nowhere else In this crazy confused world All the best of Storge love. 35 Bound as friends Bound as lovers 474

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Akin in interests Akin in attitudes Yet 40 No hindrance by Phileo Will venture forth Expectancy of a response. . . Not a problem Not an issue 45 Not a need Agape's better Unending Unconditional Actionbased 50 Emotional Personal A love to bend time Warp its spokes Bend its wheels 55 A love The love Sweet love 475

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma The Jungle Lost. . . All alone Helpless Afraid 5 Fearing what may be behind the next decomposing log Scared. . . Heart racing What was that sound? What was that roar? 10 Was that your belly or. . . ? Trees. . . . Towering skyward and ever true Covered in foliage Crawling with junglings 15 Canopy hiding that what should be blue. Misting. . . . Rain dripdropping along Pelting Vapors congealing to droplets and streaming 20 From above the leafy cover Creepers. . . Feeling their way Slowly, surely, inevitably Grasping all in their clutches 25 Spider webs sans a need of the spinner Roaring. . . Ahead in the distance It's there The beast 30 Careful, or be offered up as its feast Deluge. . . Soaking your inner being Thunderrivaling roar for supremacy Fear the rain, its flood 35 Washing all away As a wound does with blood 476

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Slithering. . . Snaking and coiling through streams and humus Behind you 40 Around you A danger unseen but dangerously felt Trembling. . . Is this what came next? Awe of Creation, of creatures, and creating 45 Noise is attention Shuddering more, venturing blindly Still. . . No word to describe it Only the rain pouring ever downward 50 Creatures bustling, busy, biting Indifferent to the rain pouring ever downward Little. . . But vicious yet Ants march and muscle 55 Militant Superbly trained, appetites drained Growling. . . Closer though this path is to the other askew Maneating plants, covetous for flesh 60 So is this As is the rest Groping. . . Darkness upon this jungle descends Is that a safe place for the hand? 65 Feeling along, blindly stumbling The jungle hoarsely chanting, mumbling Flee. . . The time has come The growling is upon you 70 Darkness hinders flight Why fight? None. . . Escape is not fit Blazing through the jungle too young 477

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma 75 Unable to handle, unable to deal, unable to distinguish Which danger was real Don't trust yourself to survive the jungle alone Feast. . . A banquet of Flesh 80 A banquet of Sin A banquet that all who partake of do not win Smothered, and still the rain keeps pouring down 478

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Set Me Set me Set me free Take me from this world apart Show me all I need my heart 5 Sell me Sell me drugs to set me low You are the only drug I need Give it to me, set me free Break me 10 Break me to plethora part Break me bend me shred my heart Break me with addiction, set me free Set me Set me on a pedestal high 15 Set me to fall or fly Set me free to dance addiction 479

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Repression I cannot tell you wouldn't have felt, you couldn't have coped with the cards I was dealt. 5 I am alone telling to other eloquent fears communed with the earth mother. I have no one 10 that I can trust secrets kept with me till hemoglobin rusts. 480

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma The Black Rose Once Noble Doric shaft, Now Bonsaicrooked stem of woe, Once glorious crowned with ruby pleats of love, Why hath fell tarnish bred, 5 And the crimson from your cheeks fled? Where do you belong? Loss of love, Its vacancy filled By bitter sorrows hath killed 10 The crimson vitality of which you speak. Velvety, smooth, now wrinkled and frail; Touch, and unsheathed thorns urge thou to imbibe a wail. Unsheathed by the dark sorrow, lost with beauty. Hold me in thine hand, Feel the pricks and stings 15 Think it not queer, or rather just Wyrd, A black rose is not desired, its beauty thus so seared. I belong in moonbeams, in the sunlight, free from sorrow; Glistening, even during gloaming, reblossoming again. I'll unite with my ruby, cut from this stem, 20 Perhaps the morrow. 481

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Sing Along Sing Along Same old song Voice of fear Verse of pain 5 Slip away Once more this day To the junction Where nothing will function Skip along 10 Run away Hurry Hie Desist and fly Time it right Time is right 15 All is wrong Dance to time's song Point the finger Lay the blame Nothing new 20 It's all the same Come again What was that Thought you had said. . . We wont' go into that 25 Come again To the junction Maybe now Something will function Break the bones 30 Break the back Smash it all Paint it black Go away Yet again 35 Went to the junction All ceased to function 482

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Independence Smother my words, Slaughter my thoughts, Slay my actions. Independence can't set you free, 5 Oppression is a beast; “Radical” is its feast. Scared at a thought, To anger turns, In rage it the newness spurns. 10 Spawned by tradition, It tradition must keep; Opposition enjoys death's sleep. 483

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Almost Almost could I believe the lie But then a thought reveals what can't restfully lie. Almost could I happiness find But vengeful truth joy does blind. 5 Almost could I stay forever But in my mind I know it was to be never. Almost could I force resolution But thought pours on a stronger, etching solution. Almost could I learn to trust 10 But thought an iron will can rust. Almost could I close mine eyes and see But sight works best away from thee. Almost could I hide this fear But you kindled it to sear. 15 Almost could I hide I your eyes But they were too crowded with your lies. Almost could I hold this breath But you promised a quicker death. Almost could I stop the tears 20 But they shall flow throughout the years. 484

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Bloodstained Tears Bloodstained tears wash away no fears right no wrong can't mask YOU're wrong 5 Bloodstained tears only when all is dead all that matters hypocritical tears splatter Bloodstained tears can't hide YOUr crime 10 YOU killed us in deadly pantomime killed us both in glee will YOU even miss me Bloodstained tears shed in grief false grief 15 YOU never cared YOU never attempted to or dared Bloodstained tears shed too late YOU sent us on our date with fate never cared to understand 20 bloodstained tears speckle guilty sands 485

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Everyman How quickly doth Fellowship flee Away from Everyman and me. When I am sick No one's care runs thick. 5 When I am depressed No one's concern has me impressed. But when I am jolly and jovial, aye Fellowship comes out to play. 486

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Left in the Weeds Burnt by the pain and the fear in your chest. Burnt by the emotions that won't let you rest. Burnt by the words, by the deeds. Burnt, burnt and left in the weeds. 5 Smitten with a love harbored in my chest. Smitten by a love that won't let me rest. Smitten by the words, by the deeds. Smitten, smitten and left in the weeds. Slain by the indifference and cold in your chest. 10 Slain by a lovegreed that sent me to rest. Slain by the words, by the deeds. Slain, slain and left in the weeds. 487

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Manic Depressive Depressed again Reunited with My dearest Friend Showing me the ways 5 Peering through the eye Depression stays Light fears to shine Where depression treads Darkness as I dine 10 On wings pallidly pale I flew And fell Despair gnashes My hopeful skin 15 Bloodspurting gashes A shimmering light shines Depression shrilly whines As the light manumits me Forward the light 20 Manic light of care Depression ends there Happiness back Under Depressive attack Fly to fall again 488

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Masochism Schism Torture and Torment me Don't wait any longer Forget the pain 5 Joy's stronger Twist and defile I want it more and more Bend break and abuse Scare me 10 And scald me Wax droppings Cut deeper Dole out your bruises You sadistic sleeper 15 While I am burning While I am bleeding When I am wroth When I am screaming When I no longer 20 Dare to sit down Just to remember Joy's stronger Bleed me Bruise me 25 Swoon me unsweetly Utter a curse Foul and profane Don't hold back Have no reservation 30 Joy's stronger Hit me again 489

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma My Fellow Americans my fellow americans, our days of glory have come to an end for dark are the paths 5 we've begun to wend subversive groups polka dot the landscape like rabbit pellets, our harbingers of doom. 490

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Not a Night for Love Last night was just Not a night for love; Venus plunged unseen From the skies above. 5 Though she was unseen, We all felt her fall; For she left our hearts One and all. As she flamed 10 Across the sky There was heard The lamentable cry Of breaking hearts And empty lovers. 15 My love and I ignored It under our covers. 491

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma On the Back of a Sign on the back of a sign on the side of the road inscribed camouflagedly for none to see 5 the snickering cry for helpful hands. 492

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Sorrow's Song i am no more no less greater than the rest 5 captive to crooning coyishly cunning loosely sporadic engine half running a dot 10 on the map of the stars in my head hope is a luxury hope lies in care 15 hope, yet hope she'll never be there spacecrazed and dazed withdrawal fell phase 20 shaking and shuddering trembling pining call to my head to my heart stop whining 25 rarely addicted none others fight this yield to this yearns for this alone as an addict 30 supplier hence gone singing singeing burning my core sear my being 35 bass rises treble plummets 493

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma meeting of tragedy on my soul's depth's summits invisible to transients 40 transient peace leave me leave me left me a piece heart shattered 45 soul broken mirrored to pieces broken in twain million shards 50 shards scattered twisted, deformed conglomeration spilled wine seeping 55 wending through the cracked glass wine stained sweet coppery smooth ferrous liquid 60 bruised scarred beaten abused abuse the beater 65 abuse is a ruse ploy plotting closer spanning a gulf ere it waxes wider 70 collapsed emotions trickle down happiness sadness raw 494

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma 75 raw laughter wry laughter continuing on ever more after marooned 80 in an aden twisted with greed impartial watchers catalog each misdeed swine 85 swindling all all in my sight vision unrestored blackness rises Lightwaves fall 90 fall into blackness into sorrow's song alive but mainly just dead 95 blackness rises Lightwaves fall fall into blackness into sorrow's song 495

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Dinner Carnage dinner Gluttonous feast Gleam the eye Rip into the beast 5 Run away While you can Run away If you can Savagely steaming 10 Morsels devoured All the meat and the bone From the soul scoured Run away It draws near 15 Run away Obey your fear Hunger for blood Thirst for pain Ravenous demons 20 Fearcries make them insane Run away Quicken your stride Run away Run, you can't hide 496

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Tucked Away in the Silent Corner Tucked away in the silent corner, Behind the fears of youth, Hides the gem of ages. I know this for a truth. 5 Tucked away in a silent corner, Where no one else may see Her magnanimous glory; Often not even me. Tucked away in a silent corner, 10 Layered with loving dust, Lies what none care to see. But I must see her, I must. Tucked away in a silent corner, She shan't always be; 15 For if I look hard enough My future do I see. 497

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma The Last This day should never have come; This day, the last. This day should never end; Alas, it has passed. 5 In a dream, It must be, Closely together, You're all I see. The wind blows 10 Gently for a space; Your silken locks Lapping at my face, Sweet this heaven, This long embrace; 15 I feel more Than is shown on my face. You lead me on To where it matters not; Everything else 20 In this dream I've forgot. Potential for beauty, But it happened too fast; The first time, But it was the last 498

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Tears to Set Love She cries the tears To set me low, And into the depths I plummet below. 5 She cries the tears Because I brought pain; Inside the tears Drive me insane. She cries the tears 10 Because I betrayed; But betrayal's song She also played. Yet here I sit, My soul full of fears; 15 Brought low Because she cries the tears. 499

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Immobilized Victim I am your immobilized victim, You've frozen me for no good; And here I stand watching And waiting still as wood. 5 I am your immobilized victim, Escape, there is none, I am held here to be victimized, When really I should run. We are all immobilized victims 10 Of this world and its hate. Unity is the way to break free, For strength shall make it dissipate. 500

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Linger ing Lingering longer In agony on this ephemeral shore Be free of Pain's wrath Forevermore 5 I need you Want you here by me But I know I keep You to bear agony I love you 10 I love you, yet why should you stay Suffering alone To make me gay Queer reason am I Your reason for life 15 Hereby only Elongating your strife Feeble enough Unable to proclaim it audibly loud Crying furtive silence 20 Tears to wash away your cloud 501

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Why? Why do you kick? Me in the head Why do you treat? Me as if I were dead 5 Why do you crush? Within my hope Why do you grin? With glee and gloat Why do you delight? 10 In making me pained Will you stop? Till my death supremely has reigned 502

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Cry What did i do what did i say to make me miserable everyday 5 What did I do to deserve unrequited scorn without reserve What did I do 10 to cause me to cry what did I do to make her die What did I do to be stranded alone 15 scared and empty as swallow bone What did I do to make you despise what I held dear 20 with cold twisted lies What did I do to make these tears flow why are you belligerent I must know 25 What did I do what did I say now you cause me to cry all the days 503

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Groan Groan In pain The bitter melody Does remain 5 Transport me to That afar away shore Where the malady Plagues no more Where melodies 10 Sung the unbitterest sweet Instead of tunes Of defeat Where heaven's balm Mercifully applied 15 Does end the malady My qualm That afar away shore O Distant land Reality should be 20 On that strand O Distant land That afar away shore Where pain can harm No more 25 That afar away shore O Distant land Where peace Numbers the grains of sand O Distant land 30 That afar away shore Desist and fly wrenching agony Remission is its chore Afar away shore O too Distant land 35 Elusive are you to my dream Of sleeping on your sand 504

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Wide Open Eyes Wide open eyes Imbibe a draught of pain Inhale the sunlight Only fear remains 5 Trapped in darkness Dark dark hole Lost in the blindness Hole in my soul Walking on air 10 Walking on care Tramping on down To bitterness fair Sweeter than acid Stronger than steel 15 Etching out a carving Making it real Wounded and wistful Wittily dead Epoxy epoxy 20 Glue in my head Dull sweet thunder Drumbeat lull Pound out the rhythm To life's beat; null 25 Writhing in wryness Ringed with the singing Humming the searing Diabolic whine Drink to the whine 30 Eat to the singeing Pain is To peace revenging Lost lone and lonely Caught pulled to blackhole 35 Trapped in small vastness Ripped all apart, hole in my soul 505

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Heartily felt Blow to skull Mortally dealt 40 Senses go dull Sensibility fringed With shackles of sin Doing what's wrong Good trapped within 45 What's wrong What's wrong What's right anymore Dance to pain's song Won't be long 50 I can feel it Feel it all Staggering down to sit Feel it none Feel it fully 55 Feel a wrong Dealt unduly Adroit of pain Messenger of hurt Tidings you bring 60 Of meeting dirt Rip it in twain Rip it to shreds Cast it to peaces Bungle banged in heads 65 What is more What is left Jobbing me a joy Will bereft Divest me of pain 70 Anoint in balm Bestow me Pouring down rain 506

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Separations General Darkness Out of the gentle darkness Walks the bard His feet and mind are weary 5 His heart grown hard A piteous tale He shall relate One that your despair and misery Will sate. 10 Fear Striking him cold at heart Stopping him before he does start A cautious look round to see If from its oppression he is free 15 Reassured the bard continues on Dwelling on the evil present when alone. Life The punishment of existence And feelings therein 20 A cruel fate and crueler on the ear Of he who listens with the wind The bard glances up From the warmthless fire To sing of that that's colder on his lyre 25 Love A concept that What's worth living for The loss of that Which makes dying death 30 A heartmoving dream Ever and pure A soulwrenching scream, Sings the bard, that ever shall endure 507

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Bloodstained Hands The blood is pumping Trickling out Bloodstained hands Limping about 5 Bloodstained hands Marred with red Something is dying Something just dead Bloodstained hands 10 Numbly moving scarce about Heart stopped beating And still the blood pumps the trickling out Bloodstained hands Guiltily spotted 15 Heartblood still atrickling Enduring unblotted 508

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Out of Touch Out of touch Can't feel you anymore Everything's grown surreal I don't know you anymore 5 Who are you? The one I once knew Your visage remains But reality from you flew What is it like, 10 To live in a dream Where things are What they seem Look for the hidden Look for the traps 15 Look for reality Before your cage snaps 509

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Disadvantages/Advantages The Disadvantages of Being a Free Lance Open Source Developer ●You do everything for free, so. . . if you're not previously wealthy, have another job, or can mar ket your distribution you may have some problems when it comes to funds ●If you're married, your wife might not like you staying up all hours of the night or giving your work away. The Disadvantages of Living Alone ●You have to wash the dishes eventually, unless you live off paper plates and plastic forks ●Taking out the garbage will become a must ●Either you hire a maid once a week , or you must clean at given intervals. And yes, this does in clude the bathroom ●You have to learn how to tie a tie ●You have to pay the bills solo ●Runs on the local grocery store may become quite common, especially if food is important in your life ●Who do you have to annoy and get mad at? The Disadvantages of Having a Baby ●Diapers ●Washable Diapers ●The times when you don't have to blame the smell on anyone ●Broken objects ●It doesn't catch very well at first, and your spouse yells at you for hitting it with a stick again ●The perfect babe magnet. Sigh. But you probably can't utilize this, unless the wife doesn't mind, that is The Advantages of Being a Free Lance Open Source Developer ●You get to help others with your work ●There's no boss to breathe down your neck , and if you are normally the boss, then you can have a chance to have fun doing the real work ●No messy managerial duties! ●You make your own hours—You can sleep the 4 hours if you need it or are bored, and the other 20 you can work with enthusiasm. Stay up all night working, and who cares if you're still sleep ing at 8 the next morning!! ●If your program has bugs, thousands of others out there are checking behind to get them. . . so you can have all the fun programming 510

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma The Advantages of Living Alone ●There is no one else there to mess up your system of organization ●You can go for longer stretches at a time without washing dishes ●You can have whatever you want for any meal, and not have to listen to complaints about vari ous things like hamburgers not being a breakfast food ●Who do you have to share the bathroom with? No one!! So use all the hot water you like and leave the toilet seat up!!! ●You can get depressed without having to drag others down or hide it The Advantages of Having a Baby ●There's someone to blame the smell on ●There's someone to blame broken objects on ●There's a feasible excuse for buying baby food ●It's a perfect substitute for a small animal, if you can't have a pet 511

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma His Own Island A thoughtless man walked through an uncaring world about him. Thoughtless, this man had no desires to express. Neither listening nor talking, the man was unwanted by the world. Yet thought less, this man was not affected by stringent dislike. An uncaring man walked through a lonely world. Thoughtless this man had no cares. Caring for no one and no one caring for him did he go unbrushed and unscathed by transference. An unlonely man walked through a thoughtless land. This man had no one, and none wanted him. Yet by himself in this world was he not affected by loneliness. Loneliness is an emptiness de rivative of the thought of being without those for whom one cares. This man had never thought or cared or, ergo, been lonesome. This impersonal man walked through an impersonal land to his grave. Never needing or needed through this world did he go. His own island, free and safe and unscathed by the world, a world that forgot those who didn't give. He died and no one cared, and now he cares less than he ever did. 512

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma For Your Pleasure, Disgust, and Comprehension Appendices I must immediately dedicate this section of Knowledge, which will be overlooked or scorned, to lexicographers. What wonderfully patient and objective people are you! It is depressing that a simple amateur exercise in what you make a career out of can have destroyed my patience. Loving you forever for the service rendered by dictionaries and wishing that I could give you a medal of some sort for the glorious gift of language, an insignificant author overshadowed by your work. 513

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma Thesaurus/Glossar y of Terms Used Herein A abduction: kidnapping without the consent of the abductee; what aliens do Abel: the second son of Adam in the Bible, as well as the first mortal to die/be murdered. abomination: anathema, annoyance, detested, hated, loathed absorbs: sucks in, soaks in abstain: refrain, forbear abstinent: denied abutting: adjoining, adjacent, bounding abyss: bottomless, pit, hell accosted: greeted friendlily accustomed: used to acknowledge: admit, concede, confess acme: peak , high point, crest acquire: gain, achieve, possess action: combat action f igure: a male version of a Barbie doll, often violent in nature Adam: the original man; all others are mass produced forgeries Aden: paradise adept: skilled, talented admission: entrance adobe: a clayish mud from which houses in the Southwest are often constructed. It keeps coolness inside, and heat out adopt: to legally have another person's child become your own adorn: embellish, aggrandize, make ornate adrenaline: a potent hormone of the human body that increases the heart's activity, and such, and thus pro vides what is termed “a rush” adverse: contrary, negative, unfavourable adversity: allied forces of circumstance, illwill, and apposition existing only to be crushed like the weaklings they must be for having to form an alliance; misfortune aesthetically: for beauty only afar: distant, far 1 affects: love, affection, advances 2 affects: strikes, impresses, moves, influences aflicker ing: flickering, twinkling, or shuttering rather rapidly afore: before agony: pain, torment, South GA agree: go well; mix; harmonize; find accordance ague: sickness; fever aimlessly: without a goal or targeted destination alas: alas; sadly 514

The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma albeit: although; however alieness: a female alien allaying: relieving; calming; solacing; abating allergy: unpleasant condition (rash, cough, sneezing, death) that results from a common stimulus aloof: withdrawn; reclusive; introverted alter: change alterations: changes ambition: a drive to achieve a goal, esp. power of some sort amidst: among amoral: neither moral nor immoral an: if analyze: psychoanalyze anarchy: chaos Andrew Jackson: quite a character, he was temperamental, a cheating duelsman (he wore a big coat in which he turned sideways,) and, eventually, after losing in the electoral college the first go round, became President number 7. anesthesia: drugs that produce silly and numbing effects on pain and the brain anguished: tormented; agonized; grievous anomaly: odd occurrence; irregularity apart: away; to extremes apathy: indifference; unconcern; detachment; insensitivity appalled: horrified; mortified apparel: garments; clothing appealing: engineering a production so that one will appreciate or enjoy it applicable: deserving; fitting; relevant; appropriate archeology: discovery of the ancient via digging and such excavations aroma: smell; odor arouse: bring forth; create; excite arrayed: dressed in; armoured; arranged art: are ascertain: tell; judge; perceive assault: attack; barrage; offensive assumption: guess; inference; notion; presumption asylum: institution; nut hous

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