Friday, March 3, 2017
Fox Biddable (8)
"Fox Biddable (8)"
Healing Eagle was sitting on his home-crafted picnic table, reading the newspaper, despising the fade of print media; moreover, it was all ink-squid perishing, and them EMFs will rot the brain, more or less.
The blue-light is keen for daytime, but once sundown arriveth, put your hands of Moses and the Levite Priest, his older brother Aaron down, having some topaz on your breastplate.
The Law is the Law, offered to many, but rejected save the blonde and red-haired slaves of antiquated Egypt.
Healing Eagle reached out with his pineal intrusion into the lovely fox of Jenny McGee, and while Descartes knew the pineal gland to be the Throne of God, he resisted an animal's soul having consciousness, which was a big mistake.
And Healing Eagle saw the guns on the Chief's wife. She was not used by Trump--she's got freaking bicep-inspired guns. They sign up, under whatever party, to be warriors for the United States and its free-bird flying high, yet hunting low. Chiefs run the Navy, and Sergeants run the Army, as G. Gordon Liddy has spoken, and in the Army--there is only one color--GREEN.
People want to divide, as goes their reptilian nature. Money divides, wanting more, loving less, yet charity runneth a man's cup over--if offered in humility, like a meek yet wild Franciscan, putting light into darkness.
Healing Eagle couldn't quote Saint John the Eagle's Gospel enough: "The light cometh, and the darkness comprehend it not." Moses offered LIFE through the Law, and the Virgin carried IT in Her belly, but all is misinformation, as wends the way of false testimony, for the digestion of dark souls.
Thursday, March 2, 2017
Fox Biddable (7)
"Fox Biddable (7)"
The bar/pub/joint that Jenny McGee did bartend was slow, as if all the local drunks were home watching Internet porn and further wasting their lives. She was drinking tonic water, a little sparkly, and contemplating all that Healing Eagle had been teaching her. He had mentioned many things, such as learning the ways of the snake, but keeping dove-like innocence; moreover, to be who she was, not condemning it, as the fox does not condemn itself for stealing chickens.
She heard that country music ballad come on the radio about Peter Pan and got pissed. No imagination or self-reflection for the artist, unless the song is a parable; regardless, the Proclamation of the Kingdom by Christ is all about making yourself like unto a child, trusting in the father, knowing if you ask the father for a fish that he will give you a fish, and not a serpent. And we all know how it turned out for the officer, Captain Hook--he died of jock itch.
Jenny didn't mind her sense of humor even as Heaven did dwell inside of her, for a fox entertains, it makes humans laugh, like every type of dog, chasing its tail, playing with itself, so sweetly and innocently. And does not every soul have to make their own love?
You don't need to politicize it. And what black-robed prick has the right to judge, when they beat their wives, drink till blackouts, and make hot women show their goodies; next, let them off the Captain's hook. It's just a test. And she knew her sufferings were okay, as affliction can be a wondrous thing, if we suffer next to Christ, letting him carry part of our burden--Him always willing to do so.
So, Jenny McGee smiled. And since there were still no customers, she cracked open a very cold beer--heck, one beer on the job wasn't going to kill her. But then the manager came out, scolding her, yelling: "Little, small girl--that's not appropriate!"
She told him: "Neither is your face."
And she didn't get fired, and the boss was humbled, considering more BOTOX for his Multiple Personality Disorder.
The Litany of the Blessed Virgin Mary
"The Litany of the Blessed Virgin Mary"
LORD, have mercy.
Christ, have mercy.
Lord, have mercy.
Christ, hear us.
Christ, graciously hear us.
God, the Father of Heaven, have mercy on us.
God the Son, Redeemer of the world, have mercy on us.
God, the Holy Spirit, have mercy on us.
Holy Trinity, One God, have mercy on us.
Holy Mary--Pray for us.
Holy Mother of God,
Holy Virgin of virgins,
Mother of Christ,
Mother of divine grace,
Mother most pure,
Mother most chaste,
Mother inviolate,
Mother undefiled,
Mother most amiable,
Mother most admirable,
Mother of good counsel,
Mother of our Creator,
Mother of our Savior,
Virgin most prudent,
Virgin most venerable,
Virgin most renowned,
Virgin most powerful,
Virgin most merciful,
Virgin most faithful,
Mirror of justice,
Seat of wisdom,
Cause of our joy,
Spiritual vessel,
Singular vessel of devotion,
Mystical rose,
Tower of David,
Tower of ivory,
House of gold,
Ark of the covenant,
Gate of Heaven,
Morning star,
Health of the sick,
Refuge of sinners,
Comforter of the afflicted,
Help of Christians,
Queen of Angels,
Queen of Patriarchs,
Queen of Prophets,
Queen of Apostles,
Queen of Martyrs,
Queen of Confessors,
Queen of Virgins,
Queen of all Saints,
Queen conceived without original sin,
Queen assumed into heaven,
Queen of the most holy Rosary,
Queen of Peace . . .
There is more to this mystical Litany. It is wise to honor the Mother of God.
Wednesday, March 1, 2017
Fox Biddable (6)
"Fox Biddable (6)"
And Healing Eagle was crouched in the corner of a pub, avoiding the fuel of firewater, but having the anti-inflammatory properties of caffeine in green tea, smoking a neuroprotective piece of paper filled with tobacco, knowing the falsehoods of science, and that physician and nurse error cause more deaths than Johnny Depp gregariously gelling with Chicago.
A harlot approached, ornamented in scandalous clad, smelling of blasphemous perfume that called a wicked Horseman, attempting him to crave her corporeal cruel--he denied, saying: "And the light cometh; moreover, the darkness comprehend it not."
She retreated, seeing his lack of resistance towards evil, him shining with an azure light and driven only by sanguine stripes, as Solomon gave automatic writing, knowing the Christ liveth before, as did the King, chosen--his glimmering candle was blessed by hatred of pride, arrogance, and false testimony--so brutally honest that he knew he would be hated and persecuted--the Saintly Eagle loving Christ having shown this luminous sparkle in his Gospel.
And then, Healing Eagle pondered upon the whereabouts of Jenny McGee, but knew the animism of lesser powers would protect and defend, leading to covering tracks not, but mere skulduggery for divine purpose, knowing the cunning attributes of a serpent, yet retaining a dove's purpose, knowing that simplistic weight outshines balance, and excess leads to the palace of illumination--we are ordered to pray without ceasing, and anything less, well--pity the fool. For pity is not deserved by the disabled, yet dignity, and pity should only be poured out over those dead in macabre darkness.
Fox Biddable (5)
"Fox Biddable (5)"
Healing Eagle was smoking organic tobacco; plus, sipping on some green tea with a kiss of spearmint at his little shanty south of Nashville. Jenny McGee approached his picnic table presence, having humbly driven her economically-inclined Honda over to the Cherokee's mundane habitat. She took a seat next to him, and he offered her a puff; next, she took one, coughed her inexperience, and handed the lung dart back to the true Native of America.
"I loathe monkeys." Healing Eagle stated out of nowhere. "My Uncle, Swift Rabbit, had one, keeping it in a cage in the kitchen. All it did was masturbate and scream at you; moreover, eat FRUIT LOOPS and crap everywhere. The Canidae culture is loyal, like you, and birds are messengers and healers, as is the platinum dove, part of the Great Spirit Itself, being released by Noah's altruistic and water-washed hands."
"So, I'm a dog, huh?" Jenny asked, with a snorting giggle.
"Every dog has its day, and a good dog just might have two--that's from Pynchon." Healing Eagle said bluntly.
Jenny's garnet green eyes, like unto the healing vibrations of the physician of God, Saint Raphael, glared intensely at Healing Eagle, and her kissable mouth opened, asking: "How did you learn so much without education?"
Healing Eagle responded, looking away from her, skywards, into the azure noon: "Like Jesus Himself, I listened to my elders and soul-washed myself into remembering everything. And--you do look calmly cunning with that Joan of Arc haircut. A little asymmetrical around the ears, but you were drinking firewater when you camouflaged yourself with the swiftness of scissors."
"I'm getting my hidden fox on--thanks to you." Jenny said, smiling sweetly.
Healing Eagle exhaled the smoke, sending his praise to the Heavens, the smoke having coated his soul, and now rocketed upwards to the high-tower, giving internal and external praise for being able to be a philosophical pedagogue to such a fine fox.
Tuesday, February 28, 2017
Fox Biddable (4)
"Fox Biddable (4)"
Healing Eagle was piloting his eggshell-white Mustang with Jenny McGee throwing back a cold one, harming no souls, as she innocently sat in the passenger seat, the icy lager in her left hand, a pair of Walgreen's bought scissors in her right--screw the open container law in Tennessee, for some laws are unjust, and made to be broken.
The Nashville lights illuminated, with neon shine mind you, a Mustang's free passage through a nocturnal city, and Jenny was cutting all her hair off, knowing she would be hated less, making herself like unto a lesbian, in aesthetics only, without metaphorically, in a sexual sense, having a flaming instinct to give it to anybody up the tailbone. She was as innocent as a dove, with a slight buzz, and Healing Eagle was well pleased with her decision to shape-shift, camouflaging her beauty with a boy's sterner countenance, in order to survive the glares of lust and envy. She would become like unto a mad monk, humiliating her own beauty, before the jealousy of serpents attempted to slither into her mind's eye. She would hide in the shadow of a modest forest, yet so enchanted by a loyal pack and family from the Otherworld.
Healing Eagle said, turning down the opera on the radio: "The Pope has the privilege of lecturing America, for he castrates himself, allegorically, yet still makes his own love--the secret of celibacy, without the pungent vice of bacterial infection, while the preacher man does carnal gymnastics with his moll-like wife screwing the openly sexual Deacon at the same time. To be as Christ, you have to live as Christ, turning your back on the world that hates you, taking the path less traveled, while the fools have treasures that rust doth destroy, not knowing, where your heart is, so is your treasure, and why not go for eternity instead of a life span that is over in the blink of an eye. Truly, the Brass Ring is God Himself, not some inflated bimbo with good tits, like the Whore of Babylon."
Jenny was like: "You have plenty of foul in your mouth for a healer and teacher."
Healing Eagle responded: "I voted for Nixon back in the day. He liked to drop the F Bomb. At least I know what I'm guilty of, and my tongue is not forked."
Jenny glimpsed her man-like reflection in the Sun visor mirror underneath the Nashville electricity; next, said: "Joan of Arc has got nothing on me now."
Healing Eagle reminded: "Don't get cocky yet. Your fight is just beginning--as of now, you are only in the state of preparation for war, like a boy scout with a molesting troop leader; indeed, always be prepared for snakes in life. And all members of the Canidae culture loathe slithering slicksters."
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