Tuesday, May 3, 2016
Liberty's Sparkle (2)
"Liberty's Sparkle (2)"
In her severely dented hybrid, the last thing her father gave to her before passing, Liberty cruised through her Midwestern environment, until out in the grasslands of it all. Her humble, and a bit scummy apartment complex standing due to determination--it was a constant struggle, even for the building to stay erect with a straight spine. As Liberty parked her car, she noticed Mr. McQuade with his hunchback status, struggling along to the little shack next to the apartments, where he meekly resided, like a broken monk. She turned off the car, got out, swept her dirty-blonde up into a rubber band ponytail, and put a smile on her face, engaging Mr. McQuade in conversation.
LIBERTY
Hiya Mr. McQuade--how are you today?
MR. MCQUADE
Doing dandy young lady. You found love yet?
LIBERTY
Love, a mystery, right?
MR. MCQUADE
No, don't sing a song like that. I was married for 52 years before becoming a professional gimp and certified old man. He got a sudden look of pain on his face, grabbing his back.
LIBERTY
You okay?
MR. MCQUADE
Just my scoliosis acting up and all the rest that goes along with a curved vertebrae. Don't ponder I'll be here much longer; plus, no money to pay the doctors, for I can't afford none of that. Then, he willed himself to smile, took a Crucifix off from around his neck, and handed it to Liberty, her unconsciously taking it, but not in a greedy manner. To her, it appeared like fool's gold with fake diamonds on the wounds of Christ.
LIBERTY
Thank you. I just don't know what to say. Nobody gives me anything in life but shit, ya know.
MR. MCQUADE
I've always wanted you to have it Liberty. So alone you are. So sad behind that lip gloss smile. I can see it; I can sense it. Lift your chin up honey--poverty gets you in touch with spirits and nature.
Liberty burst out crying. Mr. McQuade embraced her with his skeletal frame. Life made easy by a hug from an old bird, yet wings still flapping, and so divine.
Liberty's Sparkle (1)
"Liberty's Sparkle (1)"
Liberty was in her early 20's; moreover, a blonde bombshell without the bomb--no shapely curves and buxom brilliance. Still, she was adorable, yet suffered the sublimity of Jude the Obscure.
Liberty stocked the shelves at her local grocery market in the Midwest. The reason for not being a check-out girl was due to the fact that she had a bit of social phobia and didn't want to get any contagious cooties from slovenly folk.
She lived in a modest studio apartment near the grasslands. Was a bit out there, beyond the sprawl of suburban living, and she had a pet pooch named Spanky. Spanky was a fiery little terrier, but loyal to the bone. He was neutered. She got him that way when having adopted him; thus, she felt no guilt, not being the soul who emasculated a bit of his corporeal spirit.
As she constantly blew her dirty-blonde hair out of her face with melancholy puffs, putting cans of green beans on the little market's shelves, she wondered aloud, softly: "Is there anything else out there for me?" It was her hopeful and seemingly perpetual mantra.
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.
Monday, May 2, 2016
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."
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.
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