Lyrics~~ Gun Powder and Lead

The Skunk (4)

   
   "The Skunk (4)"

   Stinky's Priest warned him about his Native American heritage, listening to some of its mysteries, and while Stinky knew that many were savages, some were pure sublimity.  So, Stinky reminded the Priest what Christ said to the pathetic prince of this world:  "Man lives not on bread alone, but on every word breathed from the mouth of God."  Indeed, theologians argue, but mystics do not.
   Stinky loved his Priest, but the dude wasn't the true Vicar of Christ; still, ya never can tell.  Yes Christ saves, and so does anything that fuels you with humility, walking in fear of the Great Spiritual Mystery, only fearing God--no angel, jinn, or giant.  Did the great bard/fighter and King of Israel not say that the sons of men were almost as strong as angels, and to fear nothing but God?  
   Stinky prayed for the Priest he loved; next, prayed for himself.  Afterwards, went to do his job at TACO BELL.  Too, Stinky had nothing that came before the Christ, nothing save Christ's Father.   

The Skunk (3)

   
   "The Skunk (3)"
   
   Stinky made his way into the underground, where the shinobi did dwell, not afraid of those bullying reptiles beneath Terra's terrain, but picking them up, gallantly.  There, he found his enlightened instructor, a little Japanese man, armed with a power source that was in the midst of himself.  The shinobi instructor asked:  "Still praying for your Priest?"
   Stinky was humble, modestly stating:  "I always pray for the weak or those terrorized--their pineal glands tapped into by forces unseen.  Though no matter how depraved a Priest might be, as Saint Francis knew, it is wise to always salute a Priest before an angel, for he performs the act of the Transubstantiation.  And my Priest does this, but has no passion for the Universe of Christ, and that love is as strong as steel."
    The shinobi replied:  "We are all separate Universes within the Multiverse.  But we are distracted, as my people did to the samurai, knowing of the sublime angels and the fallen.  Christ knew to be as cunning as a serpent, yet as innocent as a dove--without that innocence, the serpent devours you hungrily.  This Gospel is beyond counterpoise, and only hearkened unto by the wise, fearing God, knowing fear of God is hatred of pride, arrogance, the forked tongue, and deceit.  The molested becomes the molester, and the deceived become deceivers."  
   "Thank you for today's lesson."  Stinky said, nodding.

The Skunk (2)

   
   "The Skunk (2)"
    
   Stinky made an exotic exodus from his laboring duties at TACO BELL; specifically, flipped the bird to some rednecks giving a teenage girl some, well basically--shit.  Saying stuff like:  "Yo young thang, hook up with us and we gonna take you outta such mundane places--put you in the heavens."
   Stinky, noticing them a mix of street thug, dirty cowboy raised in the south, and all the iniquitous rest that did pugnaciously penetrate the perimeter into Wyoming, wanting to drop their filthy bomb on his beloved locals, which were pure cowgirls and cowboys--in the sense of gelling with the freedom of the American West; moreover, he knew those dudes would follow him out to the parking lot; plus, that whatever they were carrying--it could not match his Totem of primal piss.
   He loaded his metaphorical bladder, preparing his urethra to bull's eye them--his perverted and pursuing targets.  It's best to upset a man; next, his arms are in the air, and he is exposed in certain sensitive areas.  Stinky took aim and pissed brilliance all over them, taking them to their knees.  
   He knew it wasn't their fault for being such proud pricks with a bloodthirsty taste for the inviolate and innocent.  They were controlled, having been monitored from birth due to their lascivious obviousness; thus, fueled by venom, like a big-mouthed woman with penis envy--she can't dick somebody, so she uses her obnoxious mouth to give it to you.  They should've read the bodacious bard's:  The Taming of the Shrew.   

automatic Miranda Lambert (Lyrics)

The Skunk (1)

   
   "The Skunk (1)"
    
   Sam "Stinky" Tecumseh, knew how to right a wrong; moreover, knew that it was okay to raise a stink over injustice, as had his new Commander in Chief.  Too, knew that respect should not be freely given, but earned, yet dignity is deserved by even the diabolically demonic and dastardly.
   Stinky worked at a local TACO BELL in Wyoming, gelling with the locals, yet aware of their otherworldly vivid virtues and venomous vices.  He was in the underground business of helping people.  Solace of the wretched and unwanted--like Saint Joseph.  Folks thinking gregarious gain and iniquitous imperialism is so totally vogue, yet what profits a man if he gains the whole world and loses his own soul--the shinobi taught the samurai this lesson.  
   Anyway, there was this teenage girl afflicted by belligerent bullies and she had not the steel to defend her inviolate self.  Cowboy was a dirty word at first, but like all things, history is erased and replaced by the fabrications of false testimony.  Though all is relative, or can be.  
   We have friends; on the flip side, we have enemies; next, the pussy neutrals that Dante poetically mentioned.  The Swiss being neutral when the entire world was falling apart.  Yet what did Great Britain's True Sergeant At Arms boldly proclaim:  "Never give up."   Verily, make a smelly stink for juicy justice.  Like Saint Joan of Arc invocations go:  "Let me do my Earthly tasks, even if it means my own death."   And as Saint Francis knew:  "It is in dying that we receive eternal life."  But he was just a FOOL for Christ--some would say, not knowing that he fought in the Crusades, never became a Priest out of humility, threw his naked body in the thorn bushes to cure an evil erection, and tamed a wild wolf.  

My Pap's Right Arm

    
   "My Pap's Right Arm"
   
   Birthed with mighty steel in Pittsburgh, my Pap, the son of a Serbian immigrant dubbed Dragan Radulovic, was talk; plus, imperative action and walk.    
   As Schwarzenegger said as he hung the little man over the cliff in the movie Commando:  "I warn you--this is my weak arm."  Pap held his boss out a second story window by his legs; furthermore, he was put on Haldol, due to his friendly nature and arctic-blue eyes of justice and peace kissing; specifically, he was bullied, yet took no shit when pushed to the maximum limit, snapping and morphing into concrete iron.  
   Ultimately, they took him back to work, and he was a teacher to me and loved Tesla, having many articles on the Serbian genius who did outshine Edison, though in humility, hung out with Mark Twain, and had a mustache like the dandy Proust.  
   Pap re-forged his name from Radulovic to Radulovich, and told the lady at the bank (I was there) that he was Russian.  I asked him:  "Pap, why did you say you were Russian.?"  He responded:  "Cause then they're afraid of you."  Moreover, the Serbians are cousins to the Russians, as Clinton found out with Boris Yeltsin. 
   My Pap was my Saint Joseph--terror of demons, as the Litany goes.  Not once did I mess with him, for he would've broke my neck.  I love and adore his eternal spirit in a bold and illuminated Christ, strongly.