Dirty Rotten Scoundrels

Liberty's Sparkle (84)

   
 
   "Liberty's Sparkle (84)"
   
   After the swine was gracefully toasted and cooked according to the rosemary and its beneficial awesomeness, Liberty and Bobby Rook separated their synergy of possible carnal copulation, mounting the bunk beds in singular fashion, though Spanky on her downwards bunk.
   And she went into a deep sense of Rapid-Eye-Movement, even though smeared in shots of whiskey from the trailer girls, the sophisticated sour mash egging her onward, till completion of competition; nevertheless, deep down inside, Liberty only liked to play for fun.
   She dreamed of her late husband Tom--him no longer affected by the hyperactivity of OCD with Tics, but so solemn and controlled, saying:  "Bobby Rook moves straight--do not remove his anchor that is deep into the sublimity of God's Heavenly Harbor; regardless, love and adore him, totally knowing:  even a singular kiss from your honey stained lips is enough to keep him warm through an entire winter.  You are freedom Liberty, and make it be."
   Liberty, free enough to not really know the physician-like aspects of Christ, those Four Sacred Chambers beating for True Love, like a high school band wanting Dylan and Brenda to have FOREVER at the prom, and some people brag of their college days, yet Liberty still in the metaphorically haunting times of high school, remembering:  all the bullshit, yet adversaries so close by, and keenly yet cautiously knowing:  even though the angels are with us--this does not mean we should act as fools.  
   She prayed.  Really intensely.  And Bobby Rook snoozed away the nocturnal night, her having Spanky and his loving drool to hold onto, her unknowingly saying clearly:  "Domini canis."  Next, further into the sea of dreams, splashing her waking remembrance with super-reality as the Daystar was ignited.   

Liberty's Sparkle (83)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (83)"
   
   The night was illuminated by a waxing Moon, so near completion and full of werewolf fever; regardless, the spirit of Liberty was feeling poor, so lovely and poor, as the Larry the Cable Guys in the mobile home park and their whiskey-drinking wives invited Bobby Rook and her to a snow-falling outdoor festival of imbibing alcohol and grilling rosemary graced swine.
   Bobby Rook, new paperboy in town, like Mercury delivering a modern day Town Crier; anyway, Bobby Rook was truly adored by the Larry the Cable Guys, but a few of the wicked wives and their gazing eyes, not upon Luna's neon cheese glow of reflection, but deep into the cerebral direction of the mysteriously fragile yet strong Bobby Rook, attempting to engage his countenance; next, command its glare upon their sultry souls, too damn incarnate--their eyes painted for enchantment, and Liberty figured they looked like Drag Queens--waaaay too much makeup and bravado, spilling themselves around her best friend, encompassing him with their hope of vaginal legacy, secretly shouting at his mind:  "Put your seed into my womb that might birth the best of men, somebody severely tested by sickness, poverty, stress, and loss, yet always standing with God, never losing faith."
   And Liberty got it--they loved Bobby Rook, and so did she, because no torturous trauma in life could thieve him away from adoring the Angels and Saints, which does lead to the Almighty Themselves, that Trinity of a Godhead, so delicious and truly Divine.
   So, in front of all the ladies, Liberty grabbed Bobby Rook by his Pea Coat, pulled him in close; then, she told him to close his eyes, and laid the smooch of her life on his full blown lips, them curious, but not quivering, accepting the ignition of romance, for whatever true reason.   

Liberty's Sparkle (82)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (82)"
   
   The soft sense of humor ridden though religious man, Bobby Rook, a child of God, sat upon the futon within the mobile home, Spanky drooling loving slobber on his left; next, Liberty on his right, so gorgeously golden and without any cruel dents in her soul's illustrious essence.  And he merged these thoughts unto their inviolate synergy.
   As if picking up on the quasi-telepathy of it all, imbibing his never-to-be fantasies of high romance and wet, sloppy kisses, Liberty leaned her blonde, silky hair upon Bobby Rook's shoulder--his buzz cut immediately leaning against it, forging a united soul, a sublime synergy, and Spanky puked up a rancid pile of some microwave popcorn with sprinkle-laced cheese mixed in; as a result, now a Trinity of a situation, and the Seahawks were playing upon the pictures crafted by the black and white with rabbit ears, making an America so easy, without concussion, yet preserving the gladiators and the impoverished for who they are, and the risks we all take upon being birthed into this weird world.  

American Dogs; plus, 4th of July

   
   "American Dogs; plus, 4th of July"
   
   Some pets get nervous left outside during the freedom of fireworks still freely flaring, in some parts of town--here and there, security trumping freedom more often nowadays--sometimes this is nasty.  
   Regardless, the Wild West and wild wolves, both desiring freedom, off the leash of it all; nevertheless, restriction always arrives.
   Yankee Doodle during 1775, having impact upon the American Revolution.  And UNCLE SAM, a national avatar of the United States, generally--him lending might during the War of 1812, being many men and possibly women within the Multiversal Existence of Everything crafted by the Creator, Him allowing us the Holy Spirit of 1776, possibly.   
   Just eat some kale with your poor man's Filet mignon, which is the Rib eye; otherwise, a nice piece of beef liver and a spinach salad with blue cheese dressing containing no carrageenan. 
   Happy Independence Day!!!   

Liberty's Sparkle (81)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (81)"
   
   The mad mojo of it all, Morrison axiomatically crooning:  "I woke up this morning and I got myself a beer; furthermore--the End is always near."  Liberty knew.  Knew it well.  Death.  The macabre visions of skeletons and bones.  But Christ carrying the Cross, King of the Jews, Pilate stating:  "I have written what I have written."  His letters, secret documents in the Vatican Library; indeed, maybe they should be secret.
   Liberty loved the new adoration from the Larry the Cable Guys.  Bobby Rook, new paperboy in town, in his mid-30's, yet so full of Balder and Christ, Christ always first, but is this:  Stream of consciousness life, or automatic writing.?
   And this one girl, crap in her stinking and many exotic pair of neon-pink panties; regardless, Bobby Rook would not fall straight of a freaking straight line.  Was bizarre, yup.  But not secretly or actually weirdly stupid.  Knew the mysteries.  Crazy enough to believe.  More than in himself--a disobedient way of existence.  His father yelling at him:  "You are Catholic!!!  You are special!!!"
   Wherever he was, Bobby Rook, and the Saints loving dogs and werewolves, lowered their heads unto the Virgin Mary, apologetic for all the opprobrium we cruelly laid upon Her inviolate Son, merged completely with the Holy Spirit, King David in PSALMS 51 begging it not to be taken from his bard/fighter essence--and it wasn't!  Donatello gives symmetrical construction, with Goliath's sword, it further placed in the young King's armory, for special purpose, knowing:  angels, a little better than us, but fear nothing save God, for ye are gods!!!     

Liberty's Sparkle (80)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (80)"
   
   Liberty was paging through books at the local library, igniting the autodidact within, hoping to emanate it outwards, the wise love, feeling sorry for her bombastic blasphemy towards man during political discussions with her deceased father, yes--there were political discussions, a hatred of invasion and W. Bush, but Liberty now knowing:  W. cradled a descendant of his Mother's Millie in his human arms the night before putting the canine down, so merciful and loving, it made her feel like shit for rebuking her fellow man, us all controlled on some level.
   Like the Elmore Leonard book she once read, having a criminal character in it, him wearing a t-shirt that boldly stated:  "It's nice to be nice."
   The shape-shifting faces of humanity, growing older, getting more perspective and infinite meanings, or you become simpler, possibly, so simple, that you are then closer to God, or not.
   Liberty could only love--make that attempt.  And Bobby Rook was doing dandy.  She was happy that she could afford for him the Pea Coat--heck, it's cold up here in Whitefish, Montana.