Elect Jesus, then

   
   "Elect Jesus, then"

   Commander in Chief--they throw everything @ him; specifically, plenty of manufactured  malcontents; however, only be thirsty for regal righteousness; next, you are queen-like quenched; otherwise, thirsting for yourself, unless attempted murder in your non-start-up direction, it doesn't wend well; therefore, align yourself with stubborn sublimity--why not?
   Everybody's poop smells snarly, unless you were lost and weirdly minding your own business in the fabulous fields, seen and spied as a specter of smooching stories that are strongholds of bodacious benevolence.
   Some like country.  Some like rap.  Some like smooth jazz; however, others fancy folk--never can tell.  Do your best, and remember:  the innocence of a child, a true child, that which imperatively  ignites innocence, not some meth-forged delinquent getting toxins into the dastardly discharge, or a mollifying matriarch that mistreats with aloofness, yet a damned daredevil voting for freedom, in the true sense of the word on the American ballot.  
   Make the field awesomely optic.  See and know instead of blinding.  Allow them their gifts, and you yours--just never abuse or think you are commando-sworn telepathic, unless you know you are--never can tell.
   Life would be plenty easier if we were all truck drivers with friends in the mystical restaurant business, in a sophisticated sense of the Blue Collar, though never replacing the Roman Collar.