"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.
