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"On The Celestial Hierarchy"
The Celestial Hierarchy billows with brilliant birth,
Layered in multiple Life/Essences scattered throughout the Multiverse;
Alas, the lower ranks (Angelity/Arch-Angelity) mirror humanity,
Protecting and besmirching our Earth that they can clearly SEE;
Furthermore, honored to carry the Celestial Seed of Life--
Arch-Angelic Gabriel battles the Adder's Minions to deliver the antithesis of strife,
Arriving with great tribulation until unto the Virgin Mary,
And He delivers the news that of God's Seed She now does carry . . .
Arch-Angelic Gabriel protecting the Seed of God (Christ) from Fallen Angelity.
(thanx 2 advanced d & d early 80's 4 artistic inspiration . . .)
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Sex usurps the safer, less destructive nature of plant-forged narcotics--wanna bet?
Helen of Troy was the Face that Launched a Thousand Pricks, mutilating myriads of men in War due to humanity's enslavement to carnal cravings--adultery kills. But things are not so simple concerning sexuality, us still besmirched by the Adder's greatest victory of poisonous penetration: EVE. For example: Jim Morrison. I have dumped on him heavily in my auto-biography, dubbing him a wicked womanizer; however, under further spiritual investigation, Morrison's overly-charged sexuality was not due to his own raging libido, yet a plethora of yeast-infected women wanting his famous genitalia, not his bard-like wisdom. The Rock 'n Roll Underground suspects that from numerous engagements in unprotected intercourse with horny, non-moralistic ladies, Morrison developed, possibly, some type of penis cancer, having a death sentence right on the tip of his sought after urethra. Truly, for him--sex was: THE END.
Now to the warnings and sublime wisdom of crazy ass and sometimes ascetic religion. Of course only Catholics and some Orthodox can offer the Body of a Celibate Christ, giving magical birth to the act of "Transubstantiation", for the bread is blessed by celibate hands, completely a mimic of Christ at the "Last Supper", unlike the Evangelicals, their offering of Christ's Celibate Body being merely symbolic due to their sexuality before/after the supposedly divine celebration of this pseudo-Eucharist. And of many (not all) Islamic Men: Concealing their women, slaying innocent adolescent girls for biological urges, yet when these men physically die--they claim to inherit a slippery harem of lewd and lascivious virgins. Verily, no other hypocrisy trumps this utter act of orgasmic selfishness. Oh well, I guess that's why nearly 40% of all Internet Traffic is the empty pump of porn.
But as Americans, we tread where magnanimous angels don't dare. Considering ourselves educated if climbing the supposed scholastic ladder of academia, yet not fully armed with any sense of spiritual ethics. My dating life has been a disaster. Many times have angry boyfriends called me, because their vainglorious girlfriends have a bit of a crush on my weirdness; next, I am dubbed as a predator of many a lass, yet only because their boyfriends are insecure and protective of what they believe belongs completely to them. But after 8 years of being celibate, though flirty at times, I know regardless of education--a woman's wanting womb can make a slave out of them. I was having intimate phone conversations with a Neurological Nurse @ Vanderbilt, and I thought I had found someone smart and special; on the contrary, she was a slave to her own sexuality--asking me repeatedly if I'd shave my scrotum for her complete elation, saying that shaved, masculine epidermis on her pink junk makes her squirt or some stupid shit like that. Then, she mentioned her porn collection, and I was mercurial in my retreat from her hungry hole.
Anyway, people are most afraid to die because they think sex will be absent. Having not the wisdom of knowing resurrection, physiological rebirth into synthetic flesh, or whatever futurity spawns for people hellbent on believing nothing outshines an orgasm. Poor people. Regardless, we can already save the monster stretch of the vaginal cavity and diseased discharge of bodily fluids that cause yeast infections, STD's, and all the rest of things like facially-ornamented sex art. Cloning, Test Tubes, Synthetic Eggs, and all the rest. Verily, people don't have to engage in sex to make babies anymore--this is the archaic way of "Game of Thrones", before the Genetic Revolution saves women from being stretched to insufferable pain, though some women, the ones addicted to Internet Porn, desire this. Truly, give a scandalous woman a long enough rope; next, she'll hang herself. And many men dominated by selfish release, will do just that--afterwards, they'll do her sister too.
Sincerely, Mark David King
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"1976: AMERICAN MOVIE"
Sam's Homer-Like, Anthropologically Combative Poetry:
Never arrested in Our Great "American" Land,
During the 1976 Bicentennial--when we obey George Washington's Command
To plant the seed of LIBERTY;
Next, one-day free southern slaves and allow medicine that was meant for free;
Plus, thanks to the obscure Green Arrow and Werewolf By Night,
Having not the Pop-Culture "pester" of Spider-Man's plight . . .
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"1976: AMERICAN MOVIE"
The linoleum floor in the bathroom Sam shared with his blossoming brother is disgustingly covered in creepy/crawly pubic hairs from George's pubescent rage into manhood, freaking out the pristine and non-diagnosed era of Sam's OCD mind.
SAM
I can't poop Christ--this toilet seat probably has Jungle Rot on it. How am I supposed to poop under these mind-warping circumstances? Mom needs to scrub this sucker down with some of that AJAX. Wonder if Roger Staubach has to poop on the same toilet as Ed "Too Tall" Jones?
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"1976: AMERICAN MOVIE"
Outside in the Virginia noon, under the azure hue of a summer day.
SAM
I hear the Brits are having a hot summer. No rain or prosperous crops.
GEORGE
God Save the Queen little brother.
SAM
I sure miss football season.
GEORGE
What to do but watch that spin-off from All in the Family--The Jeffersons.
SAM
Anything is better than M*A*S*H.
GEORGE
You just don't get the metaphor little guy.
SAM
I think I should feel a bit insulted.
GEORGE
Yep . . .
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"1976: AMERICAN MOVIE"
Cast:
SAM--11 year old boy fascinated by the modern 1970's culture.
GEORGE--Sam's older, teenage brother. Likes to expand Sam's cultural experiences.
ACT 1
The capital of the misguided Confederacy--Richmond, Virginia. Starsky and Hutch offering tongue and cheek action with the American V-8 roaring across the airwaves. Sam drinking TANG, remembering the astronauts and heavily sold Moon Rocks. George next to his kid brother on a dusty couch, sniffing the aromatic perfection of a colorfully printed comic book; specifically, Captain America and the Falcon fighting rooftop crime.
SAM
Does Jimmy Carter's car really have a peanut painted on it?
GEORGE
Of course. And the guy saw a spaceship before SPACE: 1999 became popular, them damn Brits, gotta luv 'em. Yeah, the progressively political Carter was a peanut farmer or something.
SAM
I miss Dad . . .
GEORGE
Divorce is everywhere nowadays. Least Mom got remarried to a hard-working salesman. He buys us good stuff--comics and the Schwinn we share. Plus, he let us have our dog, Fonzie.
SAM
I love Fonzie. Hey--I think Mom is gonna make spaghetti tonight, with Ragu.
GEORGE
Man, you always "dig for gold" when we eat spaghetti, picking out the onions Mom puts in to enhance the flavor.
SAM
Well Mom's flavor looks like little boogers.
GEORGE
Just remember--the Bicentennial Celebration is this Sunday on the 4th. I think Bob Hope is having a television special.
SAM
Hope Roger Staubach is in it.
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"DUI: LISTERINE BLOWS"
Dr. Phil, a bit selfishly sanctimonious; nevertheless, a decent man from Horseshoe America, where a pancake always has 2 sides, displayed a television show, expounding upon: LISTERINE & other oral cleansers can blow you positive on Cop-Used Breathalyzers. So, if our Cop Technology used in capturing drunk drivers is defunct--how much more BS is there in the Lie Detector mechanism?
Plenty. Especially 4 the mentally ill or anxiety ridden, their asymmetrical physiology offering ambiguous pulse & heart surge.
Thus, the crap continues. Wrongful Prosecution everywhere. And 2 think: Suffering from OCD with Tics, I once made-out with a lovely lady in a grocery store parking lot; next, I rinsed my mouth out with the LISTERINE I carry in my glove compartment after she made her exit, all in hopes of defeating sultry, thrush-like cheese from forming in my mouth after the spit-sharing French Kiss. If I would've been tested under Cop Law; then, I would've been doing defeat @ the local lock-up. So, 2 the American Justice System and all viewers of pseudo-science cop shows--we're not @ the apex of technology yet. Totally, we're kinda/sorta in the Dark Ages.
So, remember Nancy Reagan & tell your adolescent daughters: "Just say no--don't blow."
