Honor, not worship of Christ's Mom

   
   "Honor, not worship of Christ's Mom"
   
   After years of Southern Baptist school, where they claimed Catholics worshiped the inviolate Virgin Mary, I switched to a Catholic school and got schooled, for real.
   My theology teacher was a Carmelite Nun, and she specifically explained to us the truth concerning the Angels and Saints; moreover, that of the Virgin Mother, whose womb fed Christ the nutrients and blood of life.
   Anyway, Catholics honor the Angels and Saints--no worship.  We invoke them; specifically, we ask them to pray for us--like this:  "Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners."
  And the Angels are mystically forged by God--this is known as the wondrous Celestial Hierarchy; moreover, the Saints are alive in Christ.  So what's the problem with invocation, loving ALL of God's Holy Family, and asking for assistance from time to time?
   Southern Protestantism has birthed the great Tim Tebow, so I won't put it down.  But down here, in the American South, well, like the fabulous Faulkner wrote:  "Are they brave--yes.  Are they courageous--yes.  But they have no pity or mercy."
   And without pity or mercy, there is no comprehension of the mentally or physically ill.  No understanding of the love and nurture that they need and require.

Liberty's Sparkle (28)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (28)"
   
   Canadian Football; specifically, the CFL was on upwards, in the Midwestern area that haunted Liberty, Faye, Tom, and even the slobbery yet loving terrier dubbed Spanky.  Movement in the backfield dude, and wide receivers running at a full sprint before the snap is vociferously commanded; next, taking off with monstrous mercury.
   Liberty and Faye were alone outside on the chaise lounges, drinking organic green tea and observing the starlit night, a New Moon displaying no reflection of the Daystar; still, there was mysticism in the air, and with the television series the two girls had just observed in a purely Socratic sense, probing one another for the greater and more unearthly answers, all was jazzy and mystical--a Multiversal Beat of eternity.
   Faye was like:  "Erich von Daniken and his Ancient Astronaut Theory has more literature than Darwin, yet people still don't wanna accept it.  We'd all be on medication, like anti-psychotics if we knew the truth."
   Liberty, conservative and loving America, yet a sort of cynic, replied:  "And yeah, either he was crooked or the government spooks incarcerated him for saying these aren't angels but extraterrestrials--it's all synonymous--pure verbiage in a kinda sorta sense of superfluity about the words, but very necessary."
   Faye responded:  "To know the infinite possibilities of everything, including the supposed pseudo-science of Intelligent Design--what I mean:  life is more than a continuous and random flux of atoms birthing themselves brilliant due to the chance of nothingness, but an axiomatic thesis, in that ALL is true--ALL exists, as Christ said:  "I AM."  It is an amaranthine existence, though not always purple."
   Liberty was like:  "Going to the library, huh?"
   Faye back with:  "Hell, I gotta take a page outta your book.  My best friend and coolest neighbor is gone, but still here, now and forever."
   It wasn't getting gay in a girl sense, yet friendship perpetually blossoming.  

Liberty's Sparkle (27)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (27)"
   
   Faye wasn't stupid.  Hell, she had her GED; plus, was an autodidact, knowing how to turn over a library, though not as mercurial in her reading as Liberty; nevertheless, Faye knew plenty of wise and ancient shit.
   A Kunoichi is a female ninja, and with the ninja--deception replaces confrontation.  It is the Art of the Deal.  Humble, a farmer, yet able to kick Navy SEAL ass by way of dressing up cosmetically like a clown and stabbing the honorary samurai in the back, without him being consciously aware; indeed, Putin and the KGB females know how to play America--get a hot Russian agent, and the American man will sleep with her in sloppy fashion and spill his secrets; plus, speculate and brag on classified material; moreover, Putin is a master of Judo, and as their mantra goes:  "When your enemy comes, welcome him.  When he leaves, send him on his way."
   Yup, Faye knew American men were sex crazed and starving for attention; thus, she figured she had a foot up, if she played it like Liberty, got All American Patriot, dressed in Walmart normality, and talked with couth and cool.  Verily, if she mustered the power to have that kinda counterpoise; next, she'd nab a down-to-Earth, regular guy like Tom, which is what her heart sincerely craved instead of tattooed guys with selfish semen to spill for the hell of it.
   Anyway, Faye missed Liberty and the grocery girl's growing belly, wanting the American Dream as well, ready and willing to rip away all her mortifying body piercings in order to capture the prey of a dreamboat dude decked out in modest decor and demon free.  It was on!!! 
   She manifested her more moral appearance at Liberty and Tom's trailer, wearing khaki pants and a Carolina-blue shirt to enhance communication and cool, Liberty was like:  "Damn girl--you're going down the middle road, staying outta the gutter.  I still liked you the other way too."
   Faye blushed:  "Just trying to find my cool, like you Liberty."  And she eagerly embraced her best friend in a cat-like bear hug.   

Liberty's Sparkle (26)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (26)"
   
   The time had wended onward, and Liberty did move into Tom's mobile home as Faye had surmised; furthermore, more of Faye's prophecy had come to bloom, for Liberty was with child.
   Liberty wasn't nastily nervous or weirdly weary, not taking upon herself the saddening enchantment of some trailer folk, some I said, for she had a job and so did Tom; alas, they were crummy jobs, but paid the bills, and medical insurance was provided, partially.
   Her main concern was that once having read in a parenting magazine that a guy's slippery semen could be tainted if he's a smoker, and she wanted her baby healthy--Tom was a heavy smoker; otherwise, their diets were stable, and she was drinking plenty of green tea and taking prenatal vitamins, getting all those minerals, with high doses of iron and folic acid; plus, other shit she couldn't pronounce or even think of.
   Faye was a regular visitor, always giving a good bit of innocent ribbing, especially to Tom; otherwise, an elegant lady, having removed a few of her eyelid piercings, and dressing more casual, sometimes chanting to herself:  "It's causal."
   So, the Fourth of July was arriving, and Tom had built a British battleship from a model kit he had ordered off of Amazon.Com; moreover, Faye was bringing some firecrackers to blow it up and celebrate true patriotism; plus, her and Tom would be throwing back some brew and puffing away on tobacco, while Liberty just loved and laughed at life, having found a family, and eagerly awaiting Tom's, most likely, meek but romantically true proposal. 
   Too, the terrier Spanky was still a comrade-in-arms, happy with his new home, and loving Tom, his new best buddy.  Yup, Liberty was a bit jealous, but since Tom was a professional pizza boy, he always smelled like pepperoni and sausage.  

You know what Ol' Jack Burton always says...

Robin and the Rabbit

   
   "Robin and the Rabbit"
   
   Yesterday, before the Full Moon did arrive, I got some flying and hopping critters on the turf of my surrounding suburban sprawl--damn boy, they got dynamite down the street, building up the money structures, and forcing the animals to recklessly reside near quasi-concrete jungles.  
   Anyway, the Robin:  In Medieval Europe, lore explains that the Robin flew at Christ's crown of thorns, attempting to tear it away from Our Lord; however, he only managed to damage his own breast; thus, wears red there, as a badge of honor.  Too, Robins want us to trust our instincts, expressing our independent creativity--so goes the metaphysics and magic of it all.
   The Rabbit.  Boy can they dodge and dance like Flutie in the pocket up on the Canadian grasslands, representing thunderous fertility and yet open vulnerability.  Though boxed in, plenty of Rabbits have been known to kick their way out of a predator's razor sharp claws or ferocious fangs.
   All in all, be grateful for nature; moreover, the infinite beauty of creation.  All painted upon our sweet observations--if we take the time to look.
   I know these pictures aren't fabulous, but zoom in fella. 

Pic sux; regardless, Chipmunk Totem Energy

   
   "Pic sux; regardless, Chipmunk Totem Energy"
   
   When the chipmunk doth arriveth in your life, things will get chatty; moreover, protect your nuts, like an astrology-fearing Scorpio, and let the adventure begin.
   You will elegantly enjoy sharing your eloquent stories of resilient survival, for being such a small critter and still getting by--you are awesome! 
   And why would an instinctive dog put those precious brown eyes underneath the ferocious grip of its predatory incisors?  Don't ask this dude.
   And work with your hands, gathering your art and hiding a heavenly habitat for your treasure, for as Christ knows:  "Where your heart is, your treasure is also."
  Gather and create art for futurity's sake.  Collect and talk, not greasy diner gossip, but the extravagance of existence, and always--an appreciation and reverence for life, hiding or coding your literature, like Pynchon and Faulkner.