Does Lt. Governor Ron Ramsey Hate Sick People???

  
   Mark David King's Books @ Apple iTunes, the Nook, Amazon.com; moreover--all Internet Bookstores.  Perhaps a bit of lewd and lascivious material; nonetheless, altruistic messages, fueled by a sincere spirit of sublimity.  Too, HERE:  MARK DAVID KING BLOGSPOT!
  
   Does Lt. Governor Ron Ramsey Hate Sick People???
  
   In a quixotic nutshell--LIBERTY:  Freedom from emasculating or despotic government.   And the word "Conservative" is a genuine antonym of Liberty, meaning to limit; however, the "Liberals" are no better, politically promising change, yet never re-forging the ghostly resonation of 1776.
  
   More often than wise--Lt. Governor Ron Ramsey has boasted of his oppressive politics to the press; specifically, he has denounced Medical Cannabis in the State of Tennessee, offering up the excuse of ABUSE.  Yet he has not even a fundamental understanding of Cannabis and its medical benefits, nor that receptors for this magnanimous plant reside within human physiology.  King David and his wise son Solomon imported much from non-Hebrew nations in noble attempt to thwart depression and suffering; plus, to promote religious mysticism--David Psalming:  "Wine to make man's heart happy, and herb for the service of man."  Yet no wine in grocery stores in Tennessee; furthermore, no Medical Cannabis for the wilted and weary as mentioned in the Holy Scriptures.
  
   But if Ron Ramsey was wickedly ill, with a bestial disease; next, his tune might change, unless of course he has the constitutional strength of a Buddhist Monk, embracing agony for holy purpose--but I doubt it.  Regardless, let me examine partial aspects of my suffering:  Inflammatory Bowel Disease (Ulcerative Colitis), producing Iron-deficiency anemia and internal and external hemorrhoids; plus, a pulsating Psoriasis in the anal sphincter; moreover, when out of remission--10 to 20 explosive, bloody bowel movements daily, in incontinent fashion, diapers are back in style for me.  Too, feels like my anus has been hellishly scorched by the Magical Trident of Satan Himself; then, when in remission, a modest 5 to 10 torturous bowel movements daily, or maybe a month of sincere, agonizing constipation, shrinking my once 175 pound frame to that of 136 pounds in a mercurial amount of time.  Yup--afraid to eat; afraid to poop, nothing squirting out but a mixture of blood and fecal ruination, further bleeding me anemic and morphing me into a mutated skeleton.  At my worst:  117 pounds, in need of a major blood transfusion, high doses of IV steroids, REMICADE IV (infliximab), ASACOL HD 800 MG 3 times daily, KETOCONAZOLE Cream or APEXICON Cream for a salacious synergy of Fluxing Fungus and Persistent Psoriasis in anal cavity, ANUCORT-HD 25 MG Rectal Suppositories, and more PREDNISONE, which at one point maligned my face into an asymmetrical portrait of vivid acne and blistering boils for nearly a year.  Oh yeah, and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder with Tics, further prohibiting me from having any real zest for hunger; specifically, fear of appetite. 
  
   So, I take my LEGAL medicine, suffer, suffer some more, and watch Ron Ramsey continue to fight for Medical Cannabis to never be offered in the Great State of Tennessee, and if he does ever acquiesce--he would only allow if for HIV/AIDS patients, not the majority of sufferers cranked up on Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitors, Anti-Anxiety Users, and Pain Killing patients.  And even with those drugs, Ron Ramsey wants to monitor you, placing a robotic replica of a spying Uncle Sam in your medicine cabinet.  So, does this guy hate sick people?  Should I go to the street and attempt to purchase cannabis there?  Next, get arrested, sodomized, put on probation, pay court fees, have random drug tests, making the local government's wallet fatter.  So, I don't!  I stay away from the streets in sublime and cautiously keen fashion, praying to Christ that Medical Cannabis might one day soothe anybody, with any condition, in the Great State of Tennessee.  But as long as Ron Ramsey runs the roost--nope!
 
   And yes, there will always be people who abuse their medication--always.  But that should not be my problem.  Do what your physician says, but give him the privilege of offering true solace; otherwise, you are an agent of evil, hating America and the concept of Liberty.   Remember Christ's Words in Red (KJV) Matthew 5:7--it wending:  "Blessed are the merciful:  for they shall obtain mercy."
 
  Too, I heard Ron Ramsey wants to make all females wait 48 hours before able to have an abortion.  What happens when the first girl disfigured by Obsessive Compulsive Disorder freaks out because some disgusting frat boy gets her drunk and takes advantage of her--you think she'll wait 48 hours?  Won't even have to worry about a crazy Doc with a coat hanger at that point--she'll cut the unwanted spawn out of her flesh with Japanese Cutlery; then, of course, the benevolent Nashville Police will incarcerate her for what wasn't her fault.  Yeah, I love Ron Ramsey, and I love living in a Free America.  These modern politicians are attempting to craft a NERF WORLD, or better--Build another Tower of Babel.  All to God's despise . . .
  
   Sincerely, Mark David King

Green Eunuch (Part 8) Virgin Mary's Prayer

  
   Mark David King's Books @ Apple iTunes, the Nook, and Amazon.com; plus, HERE on Mark David King BlogSpot--the theological fiction of GREEN EUNUCH.
  
   EIGHT:
  
   Within the charitable safety of Francis' star-kissed warehouse sleeps the Patron Saint of All things Ecological along with the K-9 Gubbio; also, Skunkfire, him dreaming brilliantly by way of the soothing, cosmic herb; moreover, Mary is on Her immaculate knees, underneath the shimmering-blue of David's Star, a symmetrical tapestry, it woven by Hebrew ascetics and gifted to Francis.  Therefore, Mary invokes the genetic match that is Her Divine Son, praying:
  
   "Most sublime Son--
   The most potent demi-god, brighter than Terra's yellow Sun,
   I feel so ashamed and wickedly unclean
   Since the blinded Protestants demonize My God-Copulated gleam
   That resulted in 50% of Your genetic physiology;
   Indeed, Your heavenly flesh is My virginal psychology;
   Thus, You refrained from the selfishness of coitus too,
   Mimicking an inviolate Mother, Her being the Salvation of every Jew.
   Verily, You are Messiah--Hebrew spawned,
   Like some mystical poetry that King David lovingly Psalmed;
   Alas, I suffered sanguine tears at Calvary,
   Watching My genes be destroyed by My humanity--
   What is worse, to die, or watch Your only Son perish?
   Don't the confused Protestants know that a Mother's intention is to nourish?
   And You even mystically hint to Me
   That blasphemy against Your face is forgiven, but not against Your matriarchal genealogy.
   Truly, You love this woman, Your adoring Mother,
   And I bathed You in liquid weeping before the holy shroud did cover
   Your Transfiguration into God's Prime Salvation
   That can soothe and mend every Nation
   If they drink Your Blood and digest Your Body,
   Giving Adamkind a sense of decency--never naughty.
   Oh My most magnanimous and only child,
   Assist, Francis, Gubbio, and the Eunuch in freeing Ooba from Hel's wicked/wild,
   Which transcends apostasy,
   For this adventure I do belong
   Alongside humble souls eclipsing a terrible wrong
   That is the hellish pride of people believing themselves sincerely RIGHT
   Though unaware of their brothers' plight,
   For even the Greeks are godly and real,
   Having great mystical appeal,
   Though My favor is upon the Christian,
   Them seeing the best intentions of the Father's benevolent mission;
   Hence, Bless Me, My Son, and make Me worthy
   Of Our Father's Love, like symmetry curvy,
   Encompassing all of every god's creation,
   Sweet on Israel, though beyond that Holy Nation,
   For God reigns supreme in charity,
   Offering the best of blood with Your transubstantiation clarity."
  
   Next, the Holy Mother blessed Herself--in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost!!!

Green Eunuch (Hel Crayon Art)

  
   Mark David King's Books @ Apple iTunes, the Nook, and Amazon.com; plus, HERE on Mark David King BlogSpot.
 
   This is my crummy attempt at Crayon Art--I'm try'n man!  This is a pic of HEL--the malevolent Nordic goddess.  Her iniquitous character has recently emerged within my ongoing theological fiction known as GREEN EUNUCH.  Thanks to Google Search Engine for displaying superhero sketches and such--I based this on a super-symmetrical pic by Joseph Brewster--he is the real creative genius, not me.  Haven't drawn in over a decade; I'm attempting to forge Crayon Art by way of visually mimicking charcoal (I think) sketches; next, I clumsily add crayon hue to my shaky-handed felt-tipped attempt.  So, check out GREEN EUNUCH as the Virgin Mary, Saint Francis and his pet wolf Gubbio; plus, the Green Eunuch himself (Skunkfire) attempt to free the Moon Ooba (WAAAAY BEYOND THE CREAMY MILKY WAY) from Pandemonium-like lunacy--its hellish region ruled by Hel herself and Fenrir, her wolfy brother.  Be well.
 
   Sincerely, Mark David King
  
  

Green Eunuch (Part 7)

  
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   SEVEN:
  
   The Northern Europeans are pure, symmetrical beauty,
   Blonde, blue-eyed, or red-haired with fern-green eyes, making for many a corporeal cutie;
   Regardless, their mischief starbursts axiomatic for a portion
   In the sense that many follow the folly of distortion
   As it is true with ALL people and their gods--
   Some humble to decency, others prostrate to Loki with devilish nods;
   Alas, Ooba was sincerely a portion of hell,
   And the goddess Hel received an aspect of the miserable very well,
   Deconstructing their physiology in brutal manner
   As she had done with Ham, like a groin blow from Thor's hammer;
   Plus, not only Hel but her brother reigned on Ooba with her too--
   His name Fenrir, an insidious wolf that at the End of 1 Time made Odin turn true blue;
   Anyway, these 2 villains of viciousness were wickedly wise concerning Skunkfire,
   Knowing such a gelded soul could rescue many others from a torturous mire;
   Thus, within an effulgent, diablo-black tower
   Architected with hot oil cannons and demonic weaponry that could wilt the prettiest flower,
   Hel reclined on a serpentine throne of reptilian blood,
   It forever flowing and encased in demonic fecal mud
   That stank of mutated mischief and cruelly chaotic humor,
   Positioned over a motley court of succubus and others afflicted with many a facial tumor.
   Too, Fenrir was hungrily howling at Hel's side,
   Wishing he had been the one that had removed Skunkfire's macho pride,
   For these evil siblings knew they could obstruct the possible salvation on Ooba,
   Keeping the perplexing Moon a true prophecy of a bloody Luna;
   Indeed, Apocalypses and Revelation never quicksand and fatigue;
   Hence, Hel and Fenrir's forever intention was for toxicity to breed,
   Inflicting the death of herbal vegetation and its relaxing prowess,
   Making sobriety, grief, and carnal cravings Ooba's only princess;
   As a result, Hel vociferously announced to her purple/gloomy army
   That the Eunuch, Wolf, and 2 Saints were nothing more than things Christian and swarmy,
   And to eradicate and mutilate these thieves of mischief would serve Ooba best,
   Threatening that not a follower of her intentions would have chaotic rest
   Until the 4some were banished beyond the blaze
   Of the oozing industry that ushered in Ooba's purple haze;
   Moreover, she vocally commanded with a rancorous hiss:
   "Bring me the Eunuch and his friends--don't miss
   Lest I steal your loins and you never kiss
   The nightmarish bliss
   Of oral copulation or juicy and scorching intercourse either,
   Having an eternal carnal fever,
   For I will morph you all into eunuchs yourselves,
   And there are no bodily squirts in the many hells;
   Indeed, life is lived between the legs,
   Producing demonic offspring from spermatozoon dregs
   Of our deviant desires and eternal intentions
   To eclipse the modesty of Saintly confessions!"

Green Eunuch (Virgin Mary Crayon Art)

  
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   MORE GREEN EUNUCH CRAYON ART--(THE VIRGIN MARY)
  
   "GREEN EUNUCH" spins the mystical yarn concerning 2 Saints (Virgin Mary/Saint Francis), a Wolf (Gubbio), and a Bio-Mechanical Eunuch (Skunkfire).  The 4some are on the Moon known as Ooba, waaaaaay beyond the Milky Way, battling within this one of many hells, attempting to thwart some of the pain in the Pits of Pandemonium. 
  
  

Green Eunuch (Part 6)

  
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   SIX:
  
   Milton's hell broke loose,
   Yet this time Franciscans not put in the poetic noose;
   Moreover, archfiends falling upon Mary's azure range
   As Francis, Gubbio, and Skunkfire blazed to save Ham from kinda/sorta mange;
   Furthermore, he was a horny dog in the realm of real life,
   Death spawning him a fluidic soul with a manpiece severed by a demon's knife;
   Alas, Mary outside holding off the Satanic flow
   Of winged hellion wanting Her to know
   That their fiery contagion should ignite fear in Her immaculate heart,
   Yet She swung the icy-blue sword into Ooba's terrain, and a mystic glacier did start
   To coldly rise from whence She struck the angelically-forged blade,
   Encompassing the wicked creatures into Han Solo in carbonite made;
   Indeed, the magical weapon when swung poured forth a freeze
   That would frigidly chill any approaching adversary onto their shaking knees;
   Anyway, once the fallen angels defeated, She too ran inside the hellish apartment complex,
   Finding the eunuch holding hot doggish genitalia with a backwards hex,
   And Francis offering the Body of Christ to a Satanic guard
   While Gubbio tackled another hellspawn hard--
   An alien servant, unable to repent after hearing Francis' quicksilver preach,
   For some souls are beyond the Messiah's sublime reach--
   Meanwhile, Skunkfire connected the loins back onto the baking Ham,
   The pornographic sinner's body feeling noble again like a horned ram;
   Next, the robotic eunuch kenned Ham's soul,
   Telepathically telling him to now take forever control
   Over his lewd and lascivious lusts, following the humility of Christ
   To which Quasi-Kaori leapt from the television screen of Ham's imaginative heist--
   Her, a cloned creation of Kristoff's STORMDANCER
   That entertained him while his punishment plagued him like flesh-eating cancer,
   Though now he would bond with a singular Lady,
   Not stepping out on her scar or warts, nor giving into things pink and shady;
   Hence, Quasi-Kaori and Ham bolted from the incarcerating prison,
   Outpacing the Godly 4some that had dreamed the vision
   Of freeing souls bound to the most mutilating hells
   Brainstormed by the Creator of all that reeks and smells--
   Proving Satan can only torture and monstrously malign for so long
   Before the Abrahamic God consoles with a love song,
   And back outside on their legs and steeds--
   The 4some dashed away as to their wisdom that heeds
   Their inviolate escape, undetected and clean,
   Having been surgically precise in defeating something macabre and mean--
   Verily, Evil Intention always wants souls to suffer
   In order for God to magnetically muster
   COUNTERPOISE--oh, it is the flux of the Multiverse,
   Yet the Good God will triumph, love being His purse--
   Forever and ever, eternity never ends
   Though rebirths conclusions of a Holy God's trends.

Green Eunuch (St. Francis Crayon Art)

  
   Mark David King's Books on Apple iTunes, the Nook, and Amazon.com!!!
  
   GREEN EUNUCH on Mark David King's BlogSpot, yarns the axiomatic, spiritual truth of the Virgin Mary, Saint Francis and his pet wolf Gubbio; plus, Skunkfire, the bio-mechanical eunuch as they trek through the Moon of Ooba in hopes of offering salvation to the many imprisoned slaves of Pandemonium--check her out.
  
   Sincerely, Me . . .

  
   Yes, I know my Crayon Art reminds of Elementary School, but I'm just a poet attempting to forge visual art.  Thank you for your mercy!
  
  

Green Eunuch (Part 5)

  
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   FIVE:
  
   Mary and Francis, both galloping on beasts--
   Francis' in front with an epic war mask inspiring the perpetual Keats,
   Mary behind, Her steed purplish, blending in bareback with Ooba's industrial glow;
   Next, ran Skunkfire on quasi-robotic legs that kept up with Gubbio's mercurial flow--
   Skunkfire hearing Mary chatter to God in the Hebrew tongue
   As the 4some penetrated Ooba's multi-hued architecture that was a scummy slum,
   And only the cosmic herb did mend these here folks' woes,
   For every soul needs solace from the hell that overthrows
   Instead of America in the Year of Our Lord, 2013,
   Where incarceration for narcotic ingestion is the work of a nefarious, political machine;
   Alas, reunite victims with their families; plus, save them from the torture of sodomy in prison,
   Preaching moderation and more moderation--yet that might induce a Libertarian vision;
   Regardless, Skunkfire knew not all of Ooba was stoned or that this moon was one of many hells,
   Telling by the alien cultures in the outside markets and their vegetable cuisine-cooking smells;
   Thus, he took a common fig (Ficus carica) from a Hybrid/Arabian dude,
   Biting into the fruit, getting vitamins and a better mood;
   Then, around a corner to a crimson-gleamed apartment complex
   Francis lifted a hand to quiet them, hoping to avoid an ambush hex
   On them--for theirs should be the holy sabotage of surprise,
   And Skunkfire awestruck as he witnessed the azure glare of salvation in Mary's godly eyes,
   Her pulling out an icy-blue vorpal sword
   From underneath Her midnight cloak fastened by an altruistic Rosary cord,
   And Francis igniting his quarterstaff to full extension and power
   While Gubbio displayed a white fang that might make demons cower;
   Hence, Skunkfire from his back gotta hold of his nuclear-powered crossbow,
   Curious as how to fire the angelically-crafted weapon, yet he did truly know,
   Having faith in Mary's gift that it would smite his demonic adversaries--
   Them wishing to unjustly punish the love of man that in His Heart God carries,
   And the man they were to save--his name was Ham,
   A gelded penectomy his punishment, yet God did not forever damn;
   As a result, the 4some skulked in stealth,
   The hoof beats of the 2 horse-like beasts silent on platinum horseshoes of angelic wealth;
   Next, Francis and Mary did dismount--Francis taking the lead
   And Mary making sure Gubbio and Skunkfire did anchor it up indeed--
   Surely the Eunuch surmised that the Saints and wolf had done this before,
   Storming many a hell to give God a higher score,
   For the Abrahamic Deity was sublimity squared,
   Loving more than any other that in the Multiverse cared.

Green Eunuch (Part 4) THEOTOKOS

  
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   FOUR:
  
   Ooba alive with the glimmering rise of sanguine Sun,
   Illuminating the moon with the innocent kiss of a Carmelite Nun--
   Gentle and inviolate; moreover, on the cheek--
   So wends the way of the carnally meek;
   Furthermore, the Saint, Wolf, and Eunuch awoke
   To a mystical woman encompassed by azure smoke,
   Her attire the black of a midnight eclipse,
   And underneath Her heel an adder didn't hiss
   Though crushed from ever entering Her perfect form
   That was outlined and loved by a God Who did adorn
   Her with perpetual grace and regenerating Virginity,
   Making Her an aspect of the Divine Trinity,
   Being an immaculate mate and holy mother--
   Stronger than the Norse god of thunder,
   Alive forever to heal and love,
   Eternally releasing the Holy Ghost like Noah did with the platinum dove;
   Indeed, She was MARY, so glorious and keen,
   Having a countenance that matched the Milky Way's mien;
   Alas, She was here to guide Her three folk
   Further into hell, thwarting the insidious smoke
   That burned with grief, want, and desire
   For eternal elation dumbfounded into the mire;
   Thus, She revealed a nuclear-powered crossbow,
   Handing it to Skunkfire, and he did know
   That She was the best of Saint and Lady,
   Resonating eternal with a nimbus gleaming hazy,
   For to view Her in complete appeal
   Would reveal the Beatific Vision that then might steal
   All consciousness away from the flowing flock;
   Hence, God muted Her beauty to make better the "Rock"--
   For Pope Peter the 1st once glanced upon Her raven mane,
   And without the humility of the Holy Ghost--She could drive men insane;
   As a result, Catholics and the Orthodox truly know
   That not even the devil's charisma can trump the Virgin's Good Glow.

Green Eunuch (Part 3)

  
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   THREE:
  
   Within the sprawling though modest ornamentation of an industrial warehouse on the moon of Ooba, Francis sits on a non-animal hide sofa, petting Gubbio, partially playing tug-of-war with a lime-green bandana, and Skunkfire watches joyously, marveling at his resurrected existence in this eternity of death.  
  
   FRANCIS
   Did you receive comfort from that seed?
  
   SKUNKFIRE
   Totally . . .
  
   FRANCIS
   Pulls out a box of forest-green cigars and hands them to Skunkfire.  The herb from those seeds are in these cigars.  Truly, even the charismatics understand the totality of death; regardless, only smoke one a day--half in the afternoon, half at night--no more.  It will assist in your acceptance of this supermundane reality.  Like King David says in the Book of Psalms:  "Herb for the service of man."
  
   SKUNKFIRE
   Do you smoke herb?
  
   FRANCIS
   Nope.  A little quasi-Chianti from time to time to make my heart happy.  But like you--some men, downtrodden, need the solace of the Multiverse's Cosmic Nature, as long as it's not abused by way of permabuzz.  Respect the narcotic; moreover, have reverence for it; next, it will never drain your potential but starburst your best essence forth.
  
   SKUNKFIRE
   I think I know why I'm here.  Ignites a cigar with the strike of sulfur, takes two inhalations; then, exhales emerald smoke, his eyes glowing greener, and extinguishes the gleaming cherry on his robotic hand, putting the cigar and box on a table next to his presence. 
  
   FRANCIS
   You were constructed in the Transfiguration Chamber by the Virgin Mary Herself.  It took Her your entire Earthly existence to forge your perpetual form, this sublime, bio-mechanical aspect of angelity that you are--supersymmetrical, yet humble and docile, without the monstrous threat of cosmic testosterone--or too much of it anyway.  Paradise differs for every man--determined by many things such as obedience, disobedience, or pure psychotic love for the Abrahamic God--King David himself is King of the Multiverse, second to only the High King, Christ--though David's sins were despicable, he paid in full with a life of burning loins and a Black Magic offspring so wise that redemption ultimately allowed him favor with God.  Verily, David's love of God is unrivaled--that is the reason he beheaded Goliath, not out of pure courage, but outrage due to the fact that the giant spoke negative profanities against the Supreme Ruler of all the gods.
  
   SKUNKFIRE
   So, what happens tomorrow?
  
   FRANCIS
   It has been written in non-canonized scripture that at a certain time, saints, eunuchs, confessors, and others will purge those suffering in hell--those with no appreciation or service unto Satan, yet locked in eternal misery due to their lack of love for God--not the neutrals mind you, for they choose their Buddhistic eternity wisely, but the unaligned with things ethereal.  Atheists punished for lack of imagination--if ya get me.
  
   SKUNKFIRE
   And we will return a suffering soul to the favor of God?
  
   FRANCIS
   Yes.  A sexual deviant having impregnated 37 women with his unloving seed, him once full of physical pride and love of his own ejaculation.  He resides now on this somewhat hellish moon, locked away in a Satanic apartment, his death offering bodily resurrection followed by penile emasculation.  
   
   SKUNKFIRE
   Ouch.
  
   FRANCIS
   Yep.  And he has been forced to watch foolhardy pornography for decades, watching his detached and maligned penis grow in a glass aquarium to a state of health and normality.  We'll storm the apartment complex, and with the purity of your eunuch hands--you will have the authority to mend his genitalia back onto his disfigured loins, making him whole again--God has denounced his suffering.
  
   SKUNKFIRE
   How will we defeat the Satanic guards?
  
   FRANCIS
   I carry a non-edged quarterstaff carved from the Garden of Eden itself; plus, Gubbio has got some fierce chompers.  And as for you Skunkfire--the VIRGIN will soon arrive with your steeled weaponry.
  
   SKUNKFIRE
   Mary will be here?
  
   FRANCIS
   The Queen of Angels Herself will accompany us on our journey of salvation.  Just know:  Treat Her as if She is the Living Christ, for She is, at least a Holy Half of Him.
  
   SKUNKFIRE
   What did I do to deserve this in death?
  
   FRANCIS
   You suffered in uncanny fashion; at the same time, you kept your love for the concept of the Abrahamic God, His Angels, and His Saints.  You owned your misery brother.  Truly, death is a great adventure for the altruistic. 

Green Eunuch (Part 2)

  
  
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   TWO:
  
   Through the vacuous black; below the shimmering stars
   Billows with brilliance this Bridge of Ours--
   It leads us gods to castles high
   Where ravens report to the Conscious Eye--
   Skunkfire, aware of heaven's lair,
   Knowing that all the gods and immortals will forever dwell there,
   Now, him too, alongside Francis,
   Beyond gravity's arch-angelic contempt or Dorothy's Kansas--
   Gubbio prancing alongside
   While Francis mounted on a war horse's hide,
   Sauntering through the frigid terrain,
   Feeling the chill of November-like rain
   Till the pastoral nature of outlandish desolation
   Reveals the purplish smog of an industrial nation,
   Skunkfire wide-eyed and curious too,
   Contemplating his mission that he somewhat knew--
   To free the slaves of this Pandemonium's Mire,
   While resisting the demons tempting one to get higher;
   Still, Francis provided an herb's benign seed,
   Handing it to Skunkfire, and he did take heed,
   Popping the soothe of solace into his mouth,
   Elated though not euphoric as they trekked further south
   Into the city where he was glad to be fazed
   By the sublime narcotic--since the devil had glazed
   This place with slavery and many an opulent fool,
   Giving men an eternity of over others' loins giving drool,
   Thirsting for gratification and serving its Master,
   Finding themselves chained to orgasm that did plaster
   Their mistakes into art for many to perceive,
   For in death is truth for all to see,
   Skunkfire knowing his testicles gone,
   Yet his suicidal karma had not damned him a dumb fawn,
   For he was with friends and soon to be a hero,
   His Earthly life of sorrow having granted him bio-mechanical halo
   Of Emerald Green in continual flux,
   Meaning:  Him robotically handsome though without any nuts;
   Alas, it was better, being beyond seduction,
   For Ooba bragged of carnal destruction,
   Yet for some, that was their heaven indeed,
   Even if it meant copulation from horny need;
   Regardless, Francis led Gubbio and Skunkfire on the terrain behind,
   Through streets painted with vendors and many a scandalous mime;
   Plus, slave girls dancing with yellow and black hair,
   Having no shame as to shake their asses without care,
   Flaunting their physicality and how it might grant pleasure,
   Francis just smiling and Skunkfire too stoned to care
   Though amazed at the beauty of so many an evil thing,
   Like back on Earth where there was death for a Blood Diamond's bling--
   And Gubbio lifted his leg and took a piss
   On a hover car, making the owner glance and hiss--
   Him a reptilian with forked tongue and a double-backed wing,
   Though he did not pick a fight, knowing of Francis' angelic kin;
   Indeed, Francis was famous on Ooba's clouded gleam
   Able to soothe many a soul from the common demon's "mean";
   Anyway, the Trinity of the wolf, eunuch, and saint
   Did anchor themselves in a warehouse's non-taint
   Of opulence or art besmirched by sex,
   Furnished with modesty and not having a witch's hex,
   For this was headquarters for God's small underground
   Outward on a celestial moon for the purpose of things Right and Sound,
   Echoing with hopes of a resonating Christmas Season
   That might balance out the iniquity of Ooba's demonic reason.
  
   --The Trinity Rested--

Green Eunuch (Part 1)

  
  
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   ONE:
  
   "God is not limited to the Bible."  . . . Saint Francis of Assisi . . .
  
   After tasting death; next, EVERLAST.  Show me that the gods don't exist, and I will display literary substance concerning a man unable to articulate spiritual brainstorm.  Asceticism in itself births belief, offering altered states and a brain's bewildered potential to perceive, but who gives a rat's ass; this is death. 
   Now, Skunkfire, suicidal by way of razor's edge, knowing Christ's brag:  "The blood is the life."  Thus, empty, into shock, teleported into the macabre black of oblivion, quicksanding him away, though perception of an unyielding light--reminders of his cruelty to others; still, he disregards the pantheistic mergence of it all, knowing plainly, his God--the Abrahamic God offers the perpetuity of forever, a resonating comprehension of the Multiverse minus Earth till that planet evolves religiously and scientifically, able then to gel within the cosmological community--them adorned by the futurity of the Genetic Revolution, having been made bio-mechanical and never to taste corporeal death.  And now, Skunkfire like Christ in the Gospel of Mark 9:2-9, upon the Mount with Moses and Elijah, though King David there too (the boldest of the Hebrew heroes), him being an uncanny bard and the best of Messianic Men, offering Theosis, united in God, totally consummated in bodily resurrection, for Saint Athanasius of Alexandria knows:  "The Son of God became man, that we might become god."
   Skunkfire having a theophany of it all, them Hellenized folk living eternally, and Muhammad's mad mystics penetrating regenerating hymens perpetually--it's all good, though nothing is really good save God.  And Skunkfire, hostile unto himself, loving humiliations and the anguish of modesty, locked within the Transfiguration Chamber, being crafted by the Saints and Angels, them denounced by Protestants, though they are alive in Christ, constructing Skunkfire eternal, forging a robotic cranium gleaming with emerald sophistication till humanoid countenance alive with the cognizance of brilliant, shamrock eyes, and the rest of his body impenetrable, flowing with celestially-mechanical ichor from the vineyards of God, giving him the enduring grace of EVERLAST, and now release--mercurially shot in a living coffin into the cosmos till anchoring upon a Black Magic Moon named Ooba by the eternal locals, it filled with an array of differing creatures waiting for their next and forever adventure.
   Skunkfire immediately felt his resurrection upon the industrially-ravaged surface of Ooba, it offering hellacious smog, angelic luminosity, and the vibrant exchange of art and war that continually rang throughout the planetary satellite that motioned around one of the plethora of deities within the Multiverse.  And awake--alive again really, Skunkfire inspected himself in the quicksilver of conscious reflection, finding the serendipity of a green robe to cloak his castrated humanity merged with the robotic features of the gods--him unable to carnally copulate, though grateful for his besmirching beauty nevertheless.
   Stepping further over the Terra-like surface of Ooba, sensing Saints nearby and knowing the moon's catastrophe deserved his damned arrival, he blessed himself with the sign of the cross, aware that the Blessed Virgin was CO-REDEMPTRIX, glaring up at the effulgent neon glitter of cosmic life overhead, mentioning to the ghouls and gods who monitored him:  "So, this is death."
   And into the realm of his mechanical vision, upon a white horse masked for the brutality of immortal war, nostrils steaming the gaseous nature of Ooba's frosty breathe-ability, the most beautiful blonde man with gleaming eyes of blue and gold approached, completely human in appearance, lacking any robotic appendages, Skunkfire knowing him immediately through mystical intuition, bowing at his Saintly arrival; next, offering:  "Saint Francis--you are mine to follow."
   Francis smiled with luminous canines, a barking wolf close behind his mounted self till past and upon Skunkfire's sternum, licking his steeled facial features, and Francis saying:  "This is my pet Gubbio, ours for solace and protection--granted by the living Christ for our immediate adventure."
   "Thank God for dogs."  Skunkfire exclaimed with laughter, intrinsically knowing the wolf was a necessity in their needed triumph over Ooba's cruelly-architected purpose.