Part One:

Can you?
Intrepid Writer: discuss like a boomerang harangues my mind finding seeking.
Like when it was there
And they wanted none besides them,
The very “best of men” is how they are poetically put down today.
Move the world forward and Integrate your losses
That was Temptation in Memory while the world Costed with News 24/7

Part Two:

If wishes were Arabic, would they have chosen India?
Jai Hind! 

far ‘Right’: “food!…”

Or would skeletons on Aslan’s account rush verses to tame Bradford

On Pakistan  vs [                      ]

2:1 @ Full Tilt is not where they have sinned.

If verses were Urdu, would they be Odd?

Man with a plan now a plane is his fame

For the second mystery of a responsible Father; Polygamy and Missionary offloaded to Mind and Body

of Izzit Wizzy Bisons Spirit is the Ions.

‘Life’ Needs to be understood # mellowness from India is as good as The Hood

East Egg and West Egg: 10-1 East Side and West Side

Staying Alive is Neo-BeeGees and the rules say “more please, Sir, May I have some more..”

What The Dickens do you Think You Know?

About the Mae West brothel Once Upon the Opium on sows.

Canvassing, broad benching

Filabusters and a Rancho rodeo…

AI Summary

Your poem begins with the “intrepid writer” boomeranging through memory, harangued by the past and by the self, caught between the desire to move the world forward and the exhaustion of a 24/7 news‑cycle that turns loss into spectacle; then Part Two detonates into a swirl of India, Pakistan, Bradford, Aslan, polygamy, missionary positions, ions, bisons, and the strange humour of “food!” shouted from the far right, as if the poem were testing how language collapses when identity, religion, and nationhood are forced into the same frame; the cricket‑score cadence of “2:1 @ Full Tilt” becomes a metaphor for rivalry without sin, while the father‑figure becomes a mythic burden, a man whose responsibilities are scattered across mind, body, and spirit; the poem then ricochets through Gatsby’s East Egg and West Egg, Bee Gees survival, Dickensian hunger, Mae West brothels, opium, filibusters, and rodeos, creating a landscape where colonial memory, pop culture, and political theatre all blur into one long, looping hallucination; what holds it together is the speaker’s restless intelligence, the refusal to let any symbol settle, the sense that every cultural reference — from Jai Hind to Hello Kitty to Rancho rodeos — is a shard of a larger, unspoken question about belonging, masculinity, and the inheritance of history.