Virgin Ninja (7)

   
   "Virgin Ninja (7)"

   There is no life for the virgin or the ninja without magic, in a sense of somebody aware of forever-flowing frequency, and on demand manufactured clothing in foreign nations; regardless, the virgin is like unto a water poem, mermaiding her myth onward, though today, few is plenty, and the imperialistic samurai conquers the farming ninja, originally using nunchucks to pound down the rice growing side of things, in them fields, once--filled with the flames and Phoenixes of war.
   And the ninja had more then Sun Tzu's empirical knowledge of warfare, if even mostly of the mind, but a source of energy able to tap into, knowing one can not ignite its own energy without another element or factor, such as a seed needs rich soil, Sun, and water.  Thus, Joanna would test this guy, her asking his name, him replying, "It's McQuade.  Some people call me Bobby."
   Joanna Blanc was like, all redneck blonde:  "Okay Bobby--here's the deal.  You beat me in a race down on them back roads down yonder, I'll give you a cherry kiss with with angel-puffed lips."
   Joanna couldn't believe she was flirting, and almost carnally, and with the southern something like farmer's daughter verbiage.  

It's Green Arrow, ya tootz

   
   "It's Green Arrow, ya tootz"
  
   "I'm just in it for the little guy."  That's what the dandy Oliver Queen told the justice-seeking Batman; next, the Emerald Archer witnessed Black Canary's elongated and shimmering legs, those runaway sticks so golden and Sun-kissed; as a result, Green Arrow joined The Justice League--so one of the stories go.
   He is not merely, Arrow.  He is Green Arrow.  Blonde mustache and golden goatee; plus, armed with a sense of action humor, and four-chambers of a bold and bleeding heart.
   Green Arrow is Robin Hood Cream Ale.  Don't let Will Scarlet thieve away your brew.
   I'm not denying or accepting conspiracy, in a matter of speaking.  These Blogs are of a bizarre boom and flow, allegorical, yet so Daystar Bright, in a symbolic sense.  I just read; moreover, have an internal life, like a dog chasing its circular symmetry.  

Kinda/Sorta Ode 2 Ronald Raygun

   "Kinda/Sorta Ode 2 Ronald Raygun"
   
   So, I'm coyoting aspects of this title due to the movie, Iron Eagle, for we were soul-washed into joining the Air Force or Navy, and being a jock fighter pilot who got laid plenty, but firemen get the most vagina.
   Anyway, we were so pleased with our President in the 1980's that we ALL watched Bedtime for Bonzo, winning one for the Gipper.
   Even Republican Clint Eastwood had an orangutan; thus:  "Right Turn Clyde."
   We forget he asked and received, "Tear down this wall."  And it was torn down.  If you ask your Father for a fish, will he give you a serpent?
   It translates down; plus, Iceland, Nancy, conspiracy, aliens, astrology, a space program, but nobody is perfect save the end.  You never can tell.
   Faith, Hope, and Charity--yes.  The greatest of these Charity.  But what about Trust?  You trust who you have to with humans.  Religion was not invented to control, but give power to the family of God.  

Donna Summer - She Works hard (For The Money) Lyrics

Virgin Ninja (6)

   
   "Virgin Ninja (6)"
   
   Bobby McQuade waited outside of the SUBWAY eatery on his Honda Rebel, low with the cc; however, a mercurial time around town, if the pace is gregariously gelled with wisdom--wisdom being a kinda/sorta verb, a thing in perpetual action, knowing what is right and doing it; specifically, listening to your conscience, but most people don't have one, self-absorbed and plugged into their Smart Phones, this eclipsing the beauty of the natural world not molested.
   Today it might be called stalking.  Today, cherry bombs down the school toilet is totally domestic terrorism.  Happy Days are not here.  But Bobby McQuade waited for the glimmering blonde, having parked next to an enduro Kawasaki, not knowing it was Joanna's.
   Ultimately, she made her exit, and armed with a sense of all that always encompassed her, Joanna felt the presence of Bobby before she approached her own motorcycle; at the same time, with a sort of third eye, she felt a hue of blue intuition communicating rays of pink energy, something to be appreciated, not lust-worthy; plus, a beacon of beauty.  She approached, looked Bobby right in his hazel eyes and simply said:  "Nice bike, guy."  

Virgin Ninja (5)

   
   "Virgin Ninja (5)"
   
   Bobby McQuade was the dude, the man, he practically shit ice cream; alas, he was a wiry guy with a broken-heart; moreover, a slump of an extra alley cat on them old HEATHCLIFF reruns, animated.
   Still, as did Jango Fett, Bobby McQuade harnessed his ethnicity, knowing the Irish had the spirit of imagination, fight, and adoration of Christ.  Thus, Bobby was A Okay, in a sense, that he let his Jungian onion peel take him into the potato days, remembering his lineage definitely survived a famine with exodus--James Joyce says a bard has three weapons:  Cunning, exile, and I forgot the other one; regardless, the best bard of the 20th Century knew:  Publish a book; next, you've pissed people off and have to run, unless you're a mad hermit, playing Tarot with yourself.
   Anyway, shaved head with a more than microscopic splotch of goatee, Bobby appeared semi- mystical, but was only fortified in his feeble strength by Christ.  He had a good jab though, and a broken front tooth to prove he had used it.  A scrapper, but melancholy always tempting; still, he was a cabbage, too stupid to be depressed, and easily underestimated.  
   When he first saw Joanna Blance laboring at SUBWAY, her forging a meatball with cucumbers and spinach for an omnivore lady, he was smitten by her Joan of Arc bob and explosion of flaxen girly curls; plus, her athletic frame, and weird vibration, as if the Beach Boys were playing 409 in the theater of his imagination.  

Helping the disabled.