Existence Womb (78)

   
   "Existence Womb (78)"
   
   Buck took Miriam back to their modest studio apartment thingamajig over the garage in a SS Chevelle from the late 60's powered by the always true 350 motor.  He had worked his way into buying it off a sublime cooter with a singular addiction to Kodiak mint snuff.  The twosome were tired, Miriam more so, and they each laid upon their humble futons, the lack of air-conditioning in the hot Arkansas summer bothering them not, as the Good Ghost ignited them with a cooling hue of icy blue.

MIRIAM
You ever think we'll have normal lives Buck?

BUCK
What is normal?  Two kids, a mortgage, jobs we hate, stress, and lack of unmasking the truth?

MIRIAM
I do think we have stress.

BUCK
Remember your coyote.  Negativity breeds more.  Focus on the white coyote.  Up first in Newfoundland, totally resistant to the harsh elements, and as playful as a Smurf armed with white magic.

MIRIAM
What's a Smurf?  Is it like one of them gnomes you can buy at Home Depot?

BUCK
Girl, you gotta get with Papa.  And not the pizza man or Smurf.  Look, even though the Trinity is, in a sense, singular, as Saint Patrick showed with the Shamrock, Papa is upon the throne, yet the love of all things magnanimous encompass Him.  And with all that sublimity in the heavens, we can have a paradise in our hearts if we stay focused and love our family.

MIRIAM
Are we family Buck?

BUCK
Of course.  Nothing is more loyal than a wolf, or dogs in general.  That is why Papa crafted them into existence.  Man's best friend--a furry gift of forever friendship.   

Yankee Blue, and we still don't get it

   
   "Yankee Blue, and we still don't get it"
   
   Faulkner knew about his people:  "Were they brave--yes!  Were they courageous--yes!  But they had no pity or mercy!"
   And then there was Yankee Blue, what an altruistic hue!  How many Yankee soldiers went to their deaths to free the slaves?  Do people still complain?  Hell, we all do.  Or is it confession?
   The werewolf, as metaphysical literature offers, speaks of Colonel Sherman and his "Scorched Earth" policies.  War is hell.  Live by the sword; die by the sword--a Messiah did proclaim.
   And about General Grant's drinking, nobody knows, even Sherman said of Grant:  "I don't understand him; moreover, I don't even think he understands himself."
   Next, Lincoln takes a bullet in the head.  All for FREEDOM!  
   What would the somewhat atheistic Voltaire say:  "To the living we owe respect; to the dead--only truth."
   Death is ignition.  Father, into Your hands I command My Spirit!!!
   And is Trump a racist?  Do you really know?  Is it time for the European Man to taste defeat after giving myriads of their own smeared gore?  Regardless, I'm still voting for Bernie.      
   "Salvation comes from the Jews."  That is what Christ told the Samaritan woman.
   This is no longer a Free Country.  Prisons filled with non-violent drug offenders.  Sodomized.  Do you feel better bub?  And DNA evidence can be planted.  Get smart stupid prosecutors.  Don't let crime outshine you.  
   Regardless, whatever is happening, a Virgin's foot on the adder 5,000 years ago (Genesis), before the other gods decided to use virgins, not as Holy as Her.
   Love God, with all your heart, soul, and might, or King David will kick your giant's ass in a fight. 
   Predestination in the American Nation.  Or perhaps the Native Americans and their knowledge of coyote wisdom:  "All is sacred; nothing is sacred."
   Go with God.  The One, True God!   
   But Reagan was RIGHT.  And there will come a time when we will all be brothers and sisters, doing the Will of God.  No longer will they control us.  Black, Red, White, Yellow, Blue--we will unite.  We will fight, and then:  Roll out the red carpet for God Almighty--we are ALL His children.   

William Blake--Mystic/Visionary

   
   "William Blake--Mystic/Visionary"
   
   You never know.  Only the One, True God knows the Truth.  Other people and their struggles--you cannot begin to comprehend.  Government or alien implants?  Possibly.  A family member investigated by the FBI in the illuminating 1960's, and it wends its weird way to the youngest--the seed of Jesse, perhaps; regardless, here are some William Blake quotes, a mere tradesmen, for he didn't attend the University of Phoenix and have a brain; specifically, dude had spirit.
   
"The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom...You never know what is enough until you know what is more than enough."

"The moral christian is the cause for the unbeliever and their laws."

"The fox condemns the trap, not himself."  

   Moreover, the father of lies is among us.  I see it all the time.  People put themselves first, forsaking love.  But greater love hath no man than to lay his life down for another.  These people aren't crazy, yet they are electric currents for the Spirit of God.   

Existence Womb (77)

   
   "Existence Womb (77)"
   
   Buck had taken Miriam to a local tavern in downtown Little Rock.  There, encompassed by tobacco chewing rednecks and sublime cooters filled with Tebow's Divine Protestantism, the liquor was flowing, and the twosome sat in the back, their backs to the wall, like Shane the cowboy--them always on the lookout for government spooks.  They enjoyed the tube that showcased the Razorback baseball season.  The indigenous Arkansas people calling them Hogs, going:  "Woo Pig Sooie--RAZORBACK!"
  
MIRIAM
This is really country, and freaking weird.

BUCK
What do they have here in Arkansas save the Hogs and the resonating memory of Bill Clinton's Achilles' heel concerning his raging testosterone?

   Then, a big-mouthed, drunken lady and her Baby Huey son approached, them wasted on whiskey and utter ignorance.  The large-mouthed woman glaring right at Miriam.

WOMAN
Little girl--I've noticed you've been chain-smoking.  Like I taught my son here--everything in moderation.

BUCK
What are you, a Buddhist?  And I know the physics of the Dao Symbol lady; plus, your son is drunk off his ass.  Get the splinter out of your eye before you try to get it out of another's.

MIRIAM
And maybe you shouldn't allow your Baby Huey son to drink so much big mouth.  So, go sit back down, throw up all night, and enjoy your ignorance.  Later on we'll give thanks to God, and pray that you are infused by the Holy Spirit.  Works better than whiskey, ya know.  

Saint Raphael and dogs

   
   "Saint Raphael and dogs"
   
   The Book of Tobias, as it is dubbed in the Vulgate, smoothly showcases the powerful potency of Saint Raphael, an Arch-Angel--the physician of God, yet mighty when driving away the dirt of demons.
   It displays that suffering may not be punishment, yet a test of sorts.  The endgame:  God gifts the just; however, the lazy-hearts, blinded by ego are sincerely punished; furthermore, it boldly states:  "It is right to keep the secret of a king, yet right to reveal and publish the works of God as they deserve."
   Tobias not only travels with Saint Raphael, but a dog as well--and here wends the weird of the cool coyote.  Not merely a sinister trickster, for the American Jackal has an infinite meaning.  A goofball maybe, able to unmask the wicked; plus, the Wise/Fool, catching neon-green tennis balls thrown by Angels and Saints.  If you can feel me, and so on. 
   As Johnny Carson would proclaim:  "Weird and wild stuff."   

Pineal Gland, Crystals, and Hematite

   
   "Pineal Gland, Crystals, and Hematite"
   
Those wacky ancients were not severely stupid, but weirdly wise,
For the gods and God are always dropping out of the sky--some do surmise;
Regardless, they claimed crystals offered communication with supernatural gods,
And crystal radio communication thousands of years later proves this with axiomatic nods;
Furthermore, the pineal gland contains micro-crystals,
As if a third eye or singular eye that receives and communicates like radio signals;
Moreover, the elderly ancients believed Hematite was related to Mars,
An iron based stone to heal blood disorders, as if healing from the stars.
Now we know Hematite is on the red planet's surface;
Thus, how did those dumb ancients know of such a mystical, galactic circus?   

Christ, Wicca, and G. Gordon Liddy

   
   "Christ, Wicca, and G. Gordon Liddy"   
   
   A Trinity of pure WILL!  Of course, the toughest scrapper in American History, the infamous though religiously Catholic G. Gordon Liddy, a master of the Latin language, being educated by the Jesuits, his autobiography was dubbed WILL, for he knew how to get things done.
   Named after Lord Byron, he was mad, bad, and dangerous to know.  Not near 6 foot tall, yet his physique transcended muscle--it was pure gristle.  An attorney, FBI guy, talk radio host, B movie actor, pilot, but best known for being a felon.
   Liddy didn't let this get him down.  He flipped it into a state of awesomeness.  He survived maximum security incarceration for years, all due to WILL.  He WILLED himself to survive!  And is one dude nobody wants to mess with--if they're wise.  Dude didn't bleed Kool-Aid, but the Ichor of the gods.
   And Wicca, while getting beyond the god and goddess, you have WILL.  You sincerely WILL it to happen.  But remember their mantra:  "Do no harm."
   And as for Christ--it was unearthly WILL in my opinion.  Christ never had a doubt about His Mighty Father.  He believed He could do it, and He did.  Water into wine, healing--you name it, and He sweetly did it.
   How was the most powerful God born?  Maybe He too Willed Himself into existence.  Like with Christ and the Resurrection.  It was a Divine Belief.  No Doubt.  Remember how He showed Peter the curse upon the fig tree as mentioned in the Gospel of Mark.  Here it is, KJV, MARK 11:24, wending with WILL and words, the demigod Rabbi boldly offered:  "Therefore I say unto you, what things soever ye desire, when ye pray, BELIEVE that ye receive them, and ye shall have them."
   Furthermore, The Living Christ wisely taught that if you don't forgive others; next, possibly, God will not forgive you; thus, there is Saintly alchemy in his instruction of WILL--better than the rest; indeed, His milkshakes bring all the boys to the yard--better than yours, better than yours . . .