Liberty's Sparkle (67)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (67)"
    
   Saint Raphael, the physician of God, had departed from the mysterious Bobby Rook; however, the Arch-Angel took his prayers to the Father, Saint Raphael being One of the Divine Seven Who stand before the Throne of Him; regardless, Bobby Rook was made holy steel, like the monks before him, having the Iron Grip; plus, the Dim Mak of retaliation against the furious foes of injustice.
   But Bobby Rook wouldn't use it, turning his cheek, yet rebuking his brother, him not certified concerning being obedient to adhering towards the holy reins of God testing the righteous, yet Bobby Rook did, letting his master dominate his smooth couthness, as it is suggested.
   And that big neon glitter above the sacred camping ground, not being Spinoza-like Pantheism, or the bullshit of being a photon floating forever, yet a healed soul, saved from the scar of reptilian torture, so divine, so divine.
   All Bobby Rook knew was that Liberty was an allegorical Buffy the Vampire Slayer, freeing the demons from man, doing the just justice, and allowing him the jocularity of giving her an eternal grin towards the Face of Heaven, and a Holy King, His Feet positioned upon Terra's enchanted yet evacuated dream of angels and demons, having peace.  

Ronald Regan tells UN that aliens are among us ufo united nations

Liberty's Sparkle (66) PSALM 7

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (66)  PSALM 7"   
   
   PSALM 7:9-12 (KJV)
  
9)  Oh let the wickedness of the wicked come to an end; but establish the just:  for the righteous God trieth the hearts and reins.
10)  My defence is of God, which saveth the upright in heart.
11)  God judgeth the righteous, and God is angry with the wicked every day.
12)  If he turn not, he will whet his sword; he hath bent his bow, and made it ready.  

* * * *

   Bobby Rook, waaaay out in the Montana grasslands, on sacred camping ground, while Liberty snoozed sublimity, fell to his knees before the waxing Moon that God did so elegantly craft.  There, upon the purpose of Terra, knowing his was a time of trial, reached into his pocket for his bloodstone, the warrior's stone--Christ's blood dripping on the jasper of it all; next, Mr. Rook invoked Saint Raphael, the physician of God, having a sense of humor and love of dogs.
   There, Bobby Rook begged the Arch-Angel to pray for him.  To heal his broken heart and severed scrotum; plus, to forge his large intestine strong and mighty; regardless, while death was upon him, he turneth not away from God, yet praised the glory and power of it all--even if it killed him, knowing his last deeds would be in assisting sweet Liberty in carrying her cross of poverty.  And then he heard, or did he, Saint Raphael joke:  "At least she'll get a real kick out of you."
   Bobby Rook smiled in his anguish, replying:  "Amen."   

Liberty's Sparkle (65)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (65)"
   
Liberty had loved Tom with all her shimmering sparkle;
Still, she knew his eternal love desired her to at life:  revere and marvel;
Thus, she sold the mobile home for hardly any money,
And Bobby Rook did the same, knowing Liberty's honesty was as golden as honey;
Hence, the twosome, with Spanky along,
Took the hybrid Westwards, towards Montana's song--
There (The Last Best Place) lurked the Flathead Lake Monster, like urban legend cake;
Plus, the Phantom Hitchhiker of Black Horse Lake;
Moreover, they would purchase another mobile home in a state's economy ruled by agriculture,
And live a life of Platonic love, adoring the Holy Mother;
Also, have a sense of uncanny keen concerning things bizarre;
Indeed, it had already taken Liberty's freedom so weirdly far.  

Liberty's Sparkle (64)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (64)"
   
   Liberty immediately removed the dangling death of the noose, triumphantly tossing it in a wicker trash basket nearby, blurting:  "You won't be needing that, Rook."
   Bobby Rook eyed her with a soft grin, stood up, sauntered his way right up to her glowing face, grabbed her head, gently, from behind, feeling her long, golden ponytail, glared deeply and mysteriously into her glowing-green eyes, probing:  "What are we?"
   Liberty didn't back away, ingesting his soft, chocolate brown eyes, feeling the sorrow and lack of hope; next, she leaned in and kissed his full lips, mouth open just a bit, feeling his minty fresh air; then, she unlocked her lips, stepped back, and said:  "I don't know yet.  But it's like you're my brother or something.  Two hopeless souls meant to have no sibling rivalry, but a sweet, sophisticated synergy that sparks flames of faith divine."
   "That makes no sense."  Bobby Rook offered.
   Liberty was like all Valley Girl:  "Duh, only death makes sense.  So, we shall solve the mystery of life."
   Bobby Rook with:  "Which is?"
   Liberty professed:  "Loving everything, and driving the doom out of every soul."
   Bobby Rook back with:  "Bernie will probably lose, and Hillary has had a mortal head wound America has forgotten about, as well as the mention of it in Saint John's Book of Revelation."
   Liberty was like:  "Then we go all Buffy the Vampire Slayer, ya know."
   "I like that.  I like it plenty."  Bobby Rook grinning at his spiritual sister.  

Liberty's Sparkle (63)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (63)"
    
   Liberty got bold.  Used that look of a blonde angel, piloting the hybrid with four cylinder fury, hoping it didn't burn out the batteries and all; regardless, she wanted to see Bobby Rook.  The twosome had exchanged phone numbers, and after a series of text messages, he offered his address, very nearby--in a trailer park as well--she figured:  white trash neighbors.
   Still, his poverty and illness didn't matter; she was drawn to him as an altruistic fairy to the blue power of the furious flame.  Thus, she passed by barking dogs, and dudes that looked like Larry the Cable Guy drinking Bud Heavy; next, parked in front of Bobby Rook's trailer, Old Glory's fabric hanging in his window, making him seem all the more cheap yet armed with a patriotic spirit.
   Checking her makeup in the rear-view mirror, just lip gloss really, hair pulled back in a lime-green ponytail holder, and a windbreaker of white to match her faded jeans and neon curious sneakers, she then marched to his door, knocked, heard a vociferous statement to enter, and did so, seeing a modest habitat meticulously clean, no dust bunnies or clutter, yet what caught her eye the best, besides the mysteriously attractive Bobby Rook sitting in a cherry wood chair, rubbing his lean hand over the stubble of his buzz cut, well, it was the noose--the freaking noose dangling downwards, painting an astonished look upon her angelic countenance.
   Rook got the telepathic message, responding:  "It's just in case of an emergency--if things get real nasty for me, like disease."
   Liberty focused, got cool, became the Iceman, letting it slide right off; next, blurted:  "Rook, we gotta talk brother!"  

Liberty's Sparkle (62)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (62)"
  
   Like mystical stardust, the conversation was forever, going this way now:
  
LIBERTY
Bobby Rook, right?  The Monsignor let me know.

ROOK
Yeah, I only move in a straight line, though vertically or horizontally; plus, hopefully bring some light into the darkness.  Metaphysical talk, ya know?

LIBERTY
My name is Liberty.  I lost my father and my husband to bad circumstance; plus, my best friend to holy intervention.

ROOK
Lost my right testicle.  Got Ulcerative Colitis; next, lost half the blood in my body--the wife left and took my son.  Anyway, I evacuate my bowels plenty--so I'm not full of crap like my half-brother.  He used to clog the commode all the time when we were kids with huge piles of stool.

LIBERTY
You're weird.  But, very interesting.  I guess that's why we're all here today--to listen, learn, and cope, using the fellowship of grief as a thing to heal.

ROOK
You have piercing eyes.

LIBERTY
A small blush, yet a true blush nevertheless.  I like your hair.  Buzz cuts sometimes mean a very clean man.

ROOK
Or a white supremacist, which of course--I'm not.

LIBERTY
Laughed.   Your eyes have too much sorrow to conceal any hate.

ROOK
Thanks.  That's the coolest thing a chick has said to me in ages.