"Smoked By The Gods"
Canis latrans, their medicine bag resides in bushy, enveloping tail;
Moreover, the Poetic Novella Werewolf Slut offers a barking bard outshining harrowing fail
Of axiomatic love thwarted by envious cruel;
Thus, sprouting fanged-incisors to foxily fool,
Yet the wickedly sublime power of a gallant gal hornswoggled by the Gods
Spawns sophisticated synergy with Them--she gives prostrating nod;
Alas, de vos entrailles transcends singularity of womb,
Birthing us demi-gods by way of atomic essence that does from our innards zoom
Beyond our mundane plight of American Life,
Slaving for freedom--possibly the Holy Spirit of 1776 will ignite your flight;
Nevertheless--BEWARE: Don't get arrested (as I did) for writing poetry--
Words, words, words--can proudly craft an insidious amount of multi-masked adversaries.
"ECCE HOMO; plus, American Privilege"
Oh America--they monstrously mock Liberty and Free Will--
Misinformation studies are demonically forged to wither and chill;
However, regardless of rancorous obesity and the cunningly common due of death,
They compare all quasi-euphoria to their prohibition-crafted meth;
Indeed, an inflamed abdominal core bleeding till blood transfusion
Deserves a hint of King David's herbal mercy and Christ's conclusion;
Moreover, my America too--not your soulwash so as to your opinion have favor--
Saintly, Honest Abe knew: Prohibition insidiously thieves from America's Free Nature.
Too: The soberly wicked children, killing and abusing the weak--
For them: Carnal Uncool is more psychologically damaging than euphoria meek;
Plus, to brag on swine castration, bolding sodomized-deliverance--make 'em squeal--
Verily, you need an outlandish God to know the Divine Justice System's Unearthly Appeal.
* * * *
Tony Romo = Ecce Homo!
If he's not winking at the ladies in the cheap seats, he might win a few more games.
"A Southern Gothic Werewolf In Nashville"
Miss Mandy McKelvy dreamed of a juicy & elongated, frankfurter Dodger Dog--
To carnivorously devour the mystic meat that won't her werewolf arteries clog;
Indeed, a high-school cutie, being a rocket southpaw for her varsity baseball team--
This sophomoric werewolf girl could cannon the stitched heat with mystic gleam;
As a result, she is perniciously prone to crave a boy's semi-innocent liver;
Thus, a wacky, pubescent poet dubbed Jelly Roll--will with St. Michael's exorcism deliver.
Available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble; plus, all Internet Bookstores.
"Otherworld--The Scent Of Mag Mell"
Oh Living Christ and Gods Galore--I swear I did smell
The kind and gentle, shifting-nature of a Nun goddess ornamented so well
In a black wolf pelt of wonders possibly eternal,
Pulling my life force unto her milky maternal;
Alas, only as a poor man coyote can I somewhat claim,
And as an American--to the Irish we have not as much fame;
Nevertheless, the Liberty-Loving Shapeless Divine need a habitat too--
I will follow the enchanted sailors beyond the turf of Emerald Hue.
"Christmastide"
Adoration, never temptation towards an elegant angel,
For it might free the Holy Spirit from Christ's Holy Navel;
Moreover, for many this week we celebrate Cristes Maesse (Mass Of Christ);
Thus be marvelously merry, cookie-eat'n, elegantly tipsy, and fruitcake-spiced,
Ornamenting the Yule-Tree
With an appealing sparkle for jolly Saint Nicholas to clearly see.
"Soft-Coated Wheaten Terriers"
The Wily Wheaten don't know defeat'n;
The Wily Wheaten gives joyous greet'n!
* * * *
Irish Known: Possibly the high-powered terrier spirit was Divinely Crafted to inflict population control over vermin, yet used as a working dog, possibly; furthermore, Wheaten Lore suggests that this remarkable, trickle-down from the wolf doggie was used by the poor, blending in with the sheep and keeping Wheaten Command by way of play, tricks, and fiercely affectionate cunning.
. . . THE WILY WHEATEN . . .
"Ode To Catholic Women"
Je vous salue, Lady,
You are yummalicious potatoes and flax seed gravy;
Indeed, invoke apathy concerning the Reformation,
For they believe you are too much part of the Pagan Nation,
And wonderful Wicca claims you don't have magic,
Yet an inviolate Nun might feed a mystical rabbit in her adoring habit--
Just relax and follow the loving Lord;
If they live by way of the cutting blade; next--they perish by the sword.
"Tennessean Files--Wolves, Coyotes, And Foxes"
Me: 1990's--carrier 4 Nashville Banner & witching hour Tennessean. Went from paperboy to King of the paperboys; plus, arrested, suburban-habitat swarmed by deputies for forging 90 page, ambiguous poem; next, leaving the artistically weird document on my American property for a pseudo-intellectual (me too) nurse to fetch, her armed with rebel-like, proud standards.
Anyway:
WOLF: awesome, mighty, don't smell my shit unless you want to be humped by me.
COYOTE: good-looking, crazy eyes, balance, mockery--a fine mystical mutt.
FOX: Eternally beautiful, crafty, gentle yet smartly savage.
My observations of the two:
1.) Neighborhood fox crushed by late-night vehicle. I observed the canine-like family for some months. Deputies had blue lights on to investigate the brutal death of a gorgeous creature. I prayed. Shaken. Pissed. Would date a fox-like human.
2.) Daystar hinting of arrival. Had slung near 300 papers, throwing up, in suburban driveways for hours. Then, roadkill. I stopped. Got out of ride. Bent down. Smoldering coyote passing eternity-ways till resurrection, rebirth, whatever. Smelled the dead-eyed beast, it glaring at the curious Otherworld; hence, I invoked Saint Francis to pray for the sublime soul of such an American survivor. Too, called authorities to have body honorably removed.
Coydogs viewed as well. Local paper, I worked for 'em, reported the hybrid dogs as a violent nuisance. Deputies given unjust authority to shoot on sight. Yup . . . Them the late 90's in Franklin/Nashville Tennessee.
"Saint Francis: A Fool For Wolf"
What a sissy name, Francis--might a highly-educated thug say;
Still, a brave tour in a gore-smeared Crusade!?!
Furthermore, a Christ-Crafted Saint by war observed--him a humble, moonbeam ray,
Resonating brilliantly meek and having luminous potential--to this future day.
What a fool for Christ--to tame the carnivorous wolf with the Trinity Sign--
It being a bit pagan, yet synonymous with the Singular Divine.
Yup: A little man, modest till crazy, eating the body of a Lamb,
Doing "what is always right" as wends his will to sorrow damn.
"They're Cops--Not Soldiers"
Cuff & clasp--for walking on the Free, American Grass;
Hence, who is the real ass?
Regardless, not just rooted in dermal degree,
For I was once arrested for crafting poetry;
Moreover, No Fighting Words or Clear & Present Danger;
Plus, Ambiguous Prose; thus, 1st Amendment should have saved me like an Army Ranger;
Still, poor, different, mentally ill, and yes, black--
The once neighborhood friendly Starsky & Hutch is now juiced to attack--
Yup: We all have targets on our back,
But our police shouldn't play soldier boy--
Join the Marines (War Corps) if you want to break another's toy.
Part of the community, respectfully talking a man down,
Not punishing the downtrodden citizen for wearing the tears of a melancholy clown.
"All I'm Say'n:"
Wicca don't be so FLIGHT with Catholicism, especially of the Irish Forge,
For theirs is a Step-Remote Pagan--though not a Partying-Polytheistic Gorge!
Do the Protestants call the Catholics the Devil?
Yet in the Vegetative Christ might they revel?
Knowing: Power is available in Every Nation--
Even a Mortified Catholic can do,
Beloved--to both: Adore & Tame the Shrew.
We are All, mostly, trying!
How did Captain Hook die???
--Jock Itch . . .
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