Union Blue--a very underground and android song

   
   "Union Blue--a very underground and android song"
   
   Got poured a Bud Heavy, me:  Heavy with empathy, and she oozed carnal sophistication, and I ran to the Saints, happy for God's sense of EVERYTHING STYLE, and I'm grateful for the divine differences, that asymmetrical mix of man; plus, got a confederate-loving kin; hence, what needs to be penned with pulsating purpose:  CONFEDERATE CYBORG CHIMPANZEE, or better:  TRIPLE C!    Heston on the pony, well-groomed generals, and the mystical mix of simplistic man submitting to the machine gods.  It will happen, sometime, place, or where . . .
  
  Here's the dubious ditty:
   
The South don't brave none android galore--
Give me a "for sure" Carolina girl;
She's a bit more fleshy with organic jugs,
And I don't give no artificial consciousness country hugs,
Resisting them Yankees pushing the Queen--
Her forged with pride that ain't spiritually clean--
I love my Dixie and all the dogs;
I voted for a President who called them Hogs!  

Jazzmin Flush (57)

   
   "Jazzmin Flush (57)"
   
   Rascal electrically elongated her canine telepathy, mind-hunting Thomas, barking her boldacious bewitching persona in his arctic wolf's direction; specifically, being a bitch in heat, offering, "I want you to stop being a stick in the mud and help Jazzmin too.  You can't be a wimpy weasel and walk away from your girlfriend's needs.  Do you even know how to be a boyfriend?"
   Thomas, frozen forever in ascetic awesomeness--never to be tarnished or twisted by tempting circumstance other than that which was directly knighted by the Good Ghost, barked back:  "Maybe you need to leave this wolf alone coydog girl.  Or perhaps you need a deliberate dose of wolf's bane to repel your passionate instincts, or perhaps a less organic approach--a scientific exorcism like Haldol, the anti-psychotic--both put supernatural mange into remission; I know you're in heat--stay away from Jazzmin's Dad.  Now, how's that for being a boyfriend?"
   Rascal like,"I never sniffed your hindquarters cause of flirtation--it was just kicks; I'm nobody's junkyard tramp."    

Jazzmin Flush (56)

   
   "Jazzmin Flush (56)"
  
  Jazzmin Flush was emotionally crushed; specifically, her father had, not angelically, architected a pistol-packing plan to regain his stolen funds from the self-obsessed woman he wrongfully married, rightfully returning Jazzmin's sacred inheritance--long overdo, this lack of family trust twisting her into a magnanimous vagrant of sorts.  But Jazzmin Flush was no thief.
   "I am."  Rascal boasted upon her return, her hindquarters still a bit inflamed and itchy.  "Coyotes are renowned for righteously ripping off larger predators.  And Jazzmin's stepdame sounds too selfish to ever attain spiritual peace without our interference.  Totally, she's building up some waaaay bad karma for herself with all that greed, and we could straighten her out with a spanking."
   "She likes to be spanked."  Donald Flush admitted.
   "I'm out."  Thomas stoic.  "Gonna check on Fredrica."  And he made like Tom and cruised.
   "We can't do this Daddy."  Jazzmin confessed.  "I don't have it in me to be naughty."
   Donald Flush was like, "I get it girl.  But now--so should you.  I slaved my way working as a mathematician--your birth mother getting me through college with her labor.  The myriads of monies I worked for in hopes of bettering my offspring belong to you.  You, by blood, deserve a little nest egg."
   "I'll help you Mr. Flush."  Rascal grinned hotly.  "Uh--I mean Donald."
   Jazzmin blew the gold out of her eyes, blushed, and profanely uttered:  "Shit."   

Spirit versus Machine

   
   "Spirit versus Machine"

   A strong, biological family member I knew, fully equipped with an artificial pacemaker and implanted cardioverter-defibrillator (ICD), was--under the antiquated rules of the English language, a living cyborg--part man/part machine.  His thoracic cavity having had more mechanical hardware than Darth Vader's--it kept him alive.
   On the flip side, a woman willfully enduring to near 90 years of age, Grandma, abusing 2 to 3 packs of coffin nails a day for over 70 years, only hospitalized for one week her entire life before being birthed elderly--she seemed, I surmise, ignited by pure spirit.  I could see the determined dauntlessness in her olive-green eyes--them energetically shimmering with this spiritual gift from Anotherworld.
   Humans can harness the Spirit of God, and soon we'll learn if machines can.  Being conscious is one thing, but having a conscience is groovy and sublime.

Jazzmin Flush (55)

   
   "Jazzmin Flush (55)"
   
   Rascal got control--was REMINDED of the SPIRIT of it ALL.  Still, rebellious and cute in rascally fashion, she knew--Thomas didn't need to be her telepathic babysitter or her complete conscience; nevertheless, she crushed on his spiritual probings.  
   And in this Future Year of Our Lord, Rascal witnessed an obvious android plugging itself into an energy diner.  Now away from the park, she approached from an escapable distance, swallowing the yummalicious remnants of a thieved, dug-up bone, attempting to infuse Spirit into Machine.  Later, she muttered to herself:  "I just evangelized an android."  

Jazzmin Flush (54)

   
   "Jazzmin Flush (54)"
   
   Wily Rascal went to the park, beyond the URBAN of it all--kicked a spherical stone, got paw-padded; next, dug up another's bone, ingesting the protein nature, and thanking the SPIRIT that she had a willed and unbeatable digestive tract as did her Coyote ancestors--the Pomsky genes are less forgiving when it comes to eating diapers and toxic waste.
   Anyway, what she was thinking:  "It's all about Jazzmin Flush.  California Girl.  Boyfriend and father both billowing in her bright life.  Yup--it's all about Jazzmin, and I think I'm going into horny heat.  Her father is looking cute.  If I mated him, our pups would be Jazzmin's dubious sisters and brothers.  Oh crap.  Even though it is all about Jazzmin--she's just so darn nice.  The me of yesteryear would have thought "damn nice" but Thomas is telepathically linked to me.  I won't hurt his lovely Jazzmin.  You hearing this Thomas?  I like my new friends!  I won't mess this up!"  

Pac Man in Northwest Nature--Boxing Northways

   
   "Pac Man in Northwest Nature--Boxing Northways"
   
1788 and timeline beyond, seasoned Filipino sailors anchor it strong--
Ships on keel of a Spanish expedition, sailing Northwest Passageways--never wrong,
For after letting air outta ring with dancing and numerous safety jabs,
Mayweather, Jr. births research into more economical and technical boxing labs.