Strawberry Moon: June 20, 2016

    
   "Strawberry Moon:  June 20, 2016"
   
   The Full Moon will glow with effulgent sparkle and strength tonight.  In America, it is known as the Strawberry Moon since the Algonquin Tribes pictured it as a time to gather the special fruit--back then, the strawberry harvest being short and widely revered.
   In Europe, it is known as the Rose Moon, a popular time for couples to engage in wedlock.  
   Regardless, the mystical underground assumes werewolves less aggressive, even the purely nefarious lycanthropes, for the strawberry fairies are out in grand abundance, and fairies can enchant, or even doom, if not respected and revered--so goes the myth of it all; furthermore, the only mythical thing about the word MYTH is that it is MYTH--get me?  
   Some have eyes to see and ears to hear; on the flip side, whispers in the darkness can cause lack of faith and cruel judgement.  We have forgotten God, and now, He might trumpet:  "My creation, My creation, why hast thou forsaken Me!"  Yet when King David and Christ uttered these types of words, people still believed, their pineal glands not calcified and hazed to stupefaction by electronic devices and unhealthy diets.  
   So goes the Strawberry Full Moon of June!    

Liberty's Sparkle (69)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (69)"
   
   Liberty and the sickly Bobby Rook found a nice mobile home community near Whitefish.  It was mainly a ski resort location in Montana, housing around 7,000 people.  Their place was more than modest, having a taste of Franciscan humility, and the first thing Bobby Rook did was hang a crucifix on the wall; next, the twosome got a futon, a bunk bed, and a black and white television; plus, a transistor radio, and a little fridge.
   The food was mostly in cans.  Liberty thought:  "My gosh, I can't get away from cans."
   So, she loaded up on Ramen Noodles, and of course--dog food for Spanky; also, plenty of bottled water and green tea to mix it with.  Liberty slept on the bottom bunk with Spanky, while Bobby Rook tossed and turned above with unearthly abdominal pain at night, sometimes begging for death, or like Spider-Man, having great agility at jumping off and running to the bathroom, where he would evacuate bloody stool.  He didn't know how much longer before they gutted him.  
   Liberty helped him find a Doc, and they afforded some medicine that helped, slightly.
   All in all--it was home.  Liberty finding another grocery store to work at, and yes, more cans, stocking the shelves in a perpetual state of tedious boredom:  baked beans, baked beans with savory Texas flavor, baked beans with pork, baked beans in hickory smoke flavoring, baked beans with crispy bacon.
   Unfortunately, Bobby Rook couldn't eat beans, for they cut through his colon like a chainsaw; otherwise, like the coyote being hunted relentlessly, they were surviving.  

Liberty's Sparkle (68)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (68)"
   
   Bobby Rook's bafflement further pressing upon his diseased body, offering cerebral confusion; next, Liberty, like a holy angel, stepped out of the tent, Spanky next to her, yawing saliva; then, finding an energy-granting tree, and lifting his territorial leg.  Anyway, Liberty's bare feet crunched over the Earth's surface till upon Bobby Rook, and as if telepathically reading his mind, she put a loving grip upon his wiry shoulder, saying:  "God is not the author of confusion."
   Bobby Rook stood up, slowly, having great pains in his gut; specifically, the lower right side of his abdomen; nevertheless, he got his corporeal counterpoise, and standing straight, looked upon Liberty's enchanted-green eyes lit by the Moon, stating:  "You really do have a gift."
   Liberty back with:  "I wish it would grant me some money." 
   Bobby Rook saying:  "But you have enough; plus, so much more."
   Liberty replied:  "It's just nice to have TRUE friends."
   Bobby Rook smiled, gently; next, Spanky joined the twosome in their caring and affectionate embrace.  

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.