Eastwood and Candles

   
   "Eastwood and Candles"
   
Imbibing life with the savory juices dripping from your jaws
Can make you a girth stuffed Santa with high cholesterol flaws;
Regardless, what is not to enjoy in life?
Not evil; specifically, focusing on a heightened strife,
As if touched with another's unclean hands,
Yet this doesn't axiomatically hex or damn--
Not if your intent blazes like the magnificent blue in a candle's flame,
Saving you from morphing into a multi-tasking lass or dude with a schizo brain;
Indeed, have that singular eye and happy intent,
Knowing will and wonder will be paid in full; thus, never pay rent!
Embrace the juice; let loose the moose,
And hunt in a clicking pack if you wanna make yourelf spruce.
There's nothing like the hilarity of Clint Eastwood and an orangutan
Save the traffic drama in Nashville's congested love of many a Titan--
So get the mass transit and assist the adventurous people,
Driving them underneath the protective umbrella of a Universal steeple.  

The New Testament's Evolution

   
   "The New Testament's Evolution"
   
My weird coyote Totem is bizarrely infinite;
Thus, should I be with the wondrous woman in the wilderness intricate?
Regardless, nothing means the legendary lore of love like that of saving grace,
Usurping Saint Paul's intellectual, in your face, pepper spray Mace;
Indeed, One as the Rabbinical Scholar expelled and oppressed,
The other as a, don't hate humanity, it's an implanted, demonic unrest;
Still, the synergy of balance beyond neutral shine
Constructs an architect of a spirit that walks the line;
We shift and shape, trying on many a mask;
Alas, the only superlative love is the holy hound that does bask
In the magnanimous moonlight from the far-off and beyond,
Reflecting sparkly from Terra's golden pond,
And I miss Henry Fonda and a Western-Movie made,
But my Grandma said a spade is an axiom in the ground laid.   

Animal Totems and Christ

   
    "Animal Totems and Christ"

   What, do I wanna get excommunicated?  Of course not; still, the everlast of poverty and enjoyment of a surreal nature that mystically surrounds is damn divine.  
   I like the blonde girls.  Yup, that Nordic hue of perfection.  Does that make me racist?  There's no different species of the Human Being; thus, only ONE Race--the human race, so to speak.
   But the 1950's, before conception of birth control and the rage of female orgasm--it still existed dude.  Women always got off.  James Joyce and Blazes Boylan. 
   We have no right to forsake the Industrial Revolution, yet Climate Change and the rest of impoverished human spirits lacking absolute awareness--we should be aware.
   There is no silver bullet save for the garden-variety werewolf.  What a shame.  And the Mafia-styled vampires of Urban Fantasy lurking in your teenager's bungalow--well, that's the real problem, or maybe not.  The solution. The belief in larger than immediate, confronting circumstance.
   And as Jesus and Totems go--well, He wends weird.  Heaven, Herod was terrified of Him.  Pilate so much like Jango Fett (if ya get me) in his own, personal Truth.
   King of the Jews!!!  What did Pilate mention, having totally been the scribe of Christ's corporeal aspects and Roman love the same as his own.  Pilate stated, like Fett:  "I have written what I have written."       

The Doors-''Roadhouse Blues'' [Live]

NORTH: The Element Earth

   
   "NORTH:  The Element Earth"
   
   Like Ricky Bobby, I sometimes cry:  "Tom Cruise, help me with your witchcraft!"
   Regardless, it is the North, and at Applebee's where I learn to respect the Earth; specifically, concerning Prince:  "Am I straight or gay; am I black or white?"  Who gives a rat's ass.  We are All swirling in a spiritual synergy of supernatural sorts.
   And I even Psalm aloud, in bi-polar fashion:  "Am I a Rebel, or a Yankee?"
   I've put down the Industrial Revolution.  Sorry.  Internet and furthermore is cool, unless of course porn is the sincere download on your demonic device.  Damn, I'm so sanctimonious.
   So, dude at the local bar and grill, I say to his cool-styled manner:  "I know you're from the North."
   He's like:  "The Bronx.  But I like the Mets.  Queens in NYC, borough on Long Island, kinda, and the Yankees always win cause of pinstripes--I saw it in a movie man."
   I like my pilsner beer.  Proud of a niece following in G. Gordon's Liddy's educational footsteps, and hope to timidly tame a rebel son to be a Razorback.  Hell, Fire is the Element of the South, and nothing brings it like an angry hog hellbent on kicking ass, yet so humble as they are simplistic swine, but so divine.
   

Trinitas

   
   "Trinitas"
   
   Burn or anoint with the mummifying myrrh; next, the Lovely Lady in the wilderness will come to you--so might King Solomon and his mysticism prescribe.  What would Jim Morrison say about the alternative aspects, yet so sublime:  "Lost in a Roman wilderness of pain, and all the children are insane."
   The pudendum restricted by Saint Jerome's Latin; nevertheless, preserved by other scribes, and Saint Jerome had problems dude, for he had to get his mind off of dancing women and imbibe the Hebrew language before transformation into the Vulgate.
   Regardless, God chose wisely.  Like Alexander Pope--never swiftly.  Though I am prone to being mercurial, but as the rough golfer John Daly may say about something so unconventional as shaving his head:  "What the hell."
   The Trinity is there.  Do not put other Gods next to God, yet all of the Abrahamic Religions have polytheism noted.  Moses took it on.  Too, the cerebral Paul took it on, and so on . . .
   Do not be afraid to pray to the Holy Spirit.  Always eager to be the center of love.  God, the Father, totally tough.  Christ, the Savior, totally sacrificing; next, the Holy Spirit, that everflow of love and creative ignition of super-hued inspiration.  Dude, people can taste colors, and the Multiverse is larger than you think.  Possibly, an infinite number of duplicates concerning you exist.  Totally.    

Blue Fox and Sister Chicken (2)

   
   "Blue Fox and Sister Chicken (2)"
   
   Everybody thought Blue Fox had it easy.  So damn foxy and handsome; however, that ignited the iniquity of jealousy; moreover, Blue Fox was a very humble Vulpes.
   Thus, having no friends, stabbed in the gut by circumstance, and being a luminous loner seemed like his doomed destiny.  The other animals just assumed he was severely vain and never gave him a chance.  Like people assume physicians are smart, when of course, they're prone to make a great number of mistakes due to lack of pity; alas, that is why the Bill Clinton Administration chose Dr. Jacob "Jack" Kevorkian as their Surgeon General and all.
   But Sister Chicken loved Blue Fox, especially for not eating her.  She felt sorry too that he could not chomp down on one of her blasphemous sisters like all the other foxes did, him meekly living on eggs, and breaking his back to be her friend.
   So, Sister Chicken decided to invite him on an adventure.  Possibly, she would suggest going to a river or stream, and maybe Blue Fox could gobble up some fish, which might ease his tummy pain.  
   Too, she wanted to be more than a mere fowl having only fowl friends; specifically, she desired an interesting friend.  She wondered if this made her selfish.  You see, Sister Chicken had a conscience, like the Holy Ghost running through her jive chicken soul.
   So, she dialed up Blue Fox on her cell phone and gently asked:  "Hey Blue Fox, wanna go fishing?"
   Blue Fox replied:  "Why not.  I love the glimmer of moonlight on an enchanted stream."
   Next, the adventure began.