Killer Tomatoes!

   
   "Killer Tomatoes!"
   
I'm fragile, easily fractured, and a bit bizarrely brittle;
Nonetheless, I eat sardines with soft bones, morphing myself beyond muscle--total gristle;
Alas, living, mostly, on bananas and good bacteria yogurt,
I honorably attempt to heal a gut feeling--never on instinct hurt.
Oh, how I'm freaked by:  RETURN OF THE KILLER TOMATOES!
Specifically, when George Clooney had synergy with B-Movies, residing in grottos.
Oh well, the tomato and its anti-oxidant zest does churn the burn;
Hence, I engage the elegant cucumber, and how with digestion it does peacefully learn.  

The Holy Spirit is feminine?

   
   "The Holy Spirit is feminine?"
   
Concerning grammatical gender,
The Holy Spirit, that Holy Dove, is an effulgent light so vivid yet tender;
Regardless, in Hebrew and Aramaic sound
It seems feminine, as if with God and Christ having gelled and been lovingly found;
Still, the Greek does neuter the word,
And in Latin, it is He being the "Helper" for the spiritually disturbed--
Saint Jerome around the 4th Century
Couldn't halt pondering dancing women so corporeally lovely;
Thus, he learned the Hebrew script,
Forging the Vulgate, further expressing that the Blood of Christ needs to be sipped.
At any rate of how the Holy Dove comes to thee--
The Paraclete is a comforter, not rotten fruit from a forbidden tree,
And there was a mystical man having a galactic twin--his name was Mani,
Possibly claiming to be the "Helper" that Christ said was holy luminosity;
Alas, they beheaded Mani; next, stuffed his body with straw,
Hanging it on a gate--many saw;
Regardless, we must all energetically love, floating above,
Like Noah's release of the platinum dove.   

Grandmas and Bullying

   
   "Grandmas and Bullying"
   
   Neither of my Grandmas accepted the humility of bullying; alas, Christ with the Crown of Thorns, meditation upon the Sorrowful Mysteries of the Holy Rosary and on that particular suffering equates to a love of humiliations; still, they, the elderly females, took no shit.
   Grandma King was English/Irish, and Dad told me she stood up to truculent neighbors armed with animosity concerning her slow-moving age--the steeled lady, holding her own.
   Grandma Bertha, had a witch bottle, like Nancy Reagan, potent with the forces of the Milky Way Galaxy, filling it with pins, needles, wine, and possibly a hefty urination.
  I adore the Irish and their Celtic Knot, that Endless, Mystical Transfiguration of Regeneration.  We must all be Doc Holliday at some point, even having a friend in Wyatt Earp, his cunning wisdom knowing that a gimp can gunslay the best of them, and that standing up for yourself against a wicked commentary aimed to take control and iniquitously aim your compulsions into a mortification of the senses beyond the Saints, well, that is hideous, and deserves Saint Patrick's wolfmake; plus, the shield and sword of Saint Michael himself, a fighting angel, armed with unearthly steel, like Tungsten, and beyond the scratch of defeat.     

Shamrocks, Werewolves, and Saint Patrick

   
   "Shamrocks, Werewolves, and Saint Patrick"
    
Saint Patrick--so infused with anagogic mystery and magic,
Yet not in a sense of sorcery cruel, like with a torturous, technological gadget;
Regardless, using the shamrock's singular bloom of THREE
To express the Divine Trinity,
And if a four-leaf clover is good luck--
Possibly, the Virgin Mother having a gel, being with God in a state of mystical moonstruck.
And did Saint Patrick morph Welsh King Vereticus into a wolf?
Moreover, was Ireland's glistening green once dubbed Wolfland, filled with many a wolf?
Archaeological evidence on Ice Sheet reverberation over 30,000 years ago:  
Across Continental Europe to Ireland did the wolves on paw pads go;
Nevertheless, there is a plethora of plenty about fabulous fable and magical more,
Concerning the truthful lore of the Emerald Isle--Her once downtrodden and poor,
Yet having the best bard in the 20th Century,
Penning better than the English with language weaponry--
Whatever, have a pint or two of beer and ponder the love of Our Lady,
Knowing in the United States, Notre Dame is a great school, offering awesome theological gravy.   

The Cult - Big Neon Glitter (2009 Remastered)

My Uncle Bill

   
   "My Uncle Bill"
   
   Didn't go to college--my Uncle Bill; nevertheless, he could do internal block work on a motor, and after enlistment, made an officer in the United States Army, all due to his intellectual cunning.
   Uncle Bill, my Dad said, went about 150 pounds; nonetheless, he could tear up a bar in Pittsburgh, and punch out plenty of dangerous, drunken masters.  My Dad told me about his brother:  "That was one tough son of a bitch."
   My Dad played college football, a running back, linebacker, during the Iron Man days, when Frank Gifford commanded Terra's 100 yard green.   Anyway, people always counted Uncle Bill out.  Said he couldn't "control his liquor" and all that kinda bullshit.  What beloved, crazy Irish immigration.
   So, I guess if you destroy your liver by hard-drinking, and can control it, you are the linguistic genius of Jack Kerouac--if you can't--you are Faulkner, dropping a cerebral bomb on your own American South.
   Regardless, all my relatives need love--Christ boldly offered:  "Who are my brothers and sisters?--those that do the Will of God."  Still, Jesus knew:  We must forgive family, accept their bad ass toughness, enduring and braving all the bullshit of people ignorantly and stupidly surmising, without true intellect.  
   Love you Uncle Bill.  Wish you taught me how to fight.  I tell my son Francis--Uncle Bill was the toughest dude in the family.  Like I said--could tear a tavern apart.  And my Dad, a tough guy himself, was a bit phobic about rescuing his brother from the heat of the moment's brawl.    

Donatello's Black David, and Psalm 14

   
   "Donatello's Black David, and Psalm 14"   
   
   Michelangelo gets all the credit for sculpting David, the Bard/Fighter; on the contrary, Donatello's work is super-symmetrical, showing a lean, gristle-forged ectomorph in mystical fashion.  After beheading Goliath for an insult against the Hebrew God, David kept the giant's sword, using it for future battle.  Like little yet mighty Audie Murphy, the seed of Jesse was beyond fear of giants.  Be cautious of who you mess with, for all things are possible. 
   
PSALM 14:

1)  The fool hath said in his heart, There is no God.  They are corrupt, they have done abominable works, there is none that doeth good.
2)  The LORD looked down from heaven upon the children of men, to see if there were any that did understand, and seek God.
3)  They are all gone aside, they are all together become filthy:  there is none that doeth good, no, not one.
4)  Have all the workers of iniquity no knowledge?  who eat up my people as they eat bread, and call not upon the LORD. 
5)  There were they in great fear:  for God is in the generation of the righteous.
6)  Ye have shamed the counsel of the poor, because the LORD is his refuge.
7)  Oh that the salvation of Israel were come out of Zion!  when the LORD bringeth back the captivity of his people, Jacob shall rejoice, and Israel shall be glad.  
  
Donatello's Black David: