Voltaic Junkyard

   
   "Voltaic Junkyard"
   
   Sheila didn't give a damn about them heavy metals, not even aluminum.  She lived in the junkyard; moreover, the junkyard, that scrap metal--lived in her, residing in her impenetrable forge of freaky.
   Sheila was jet black till a decent cascade, not quite hitting her angelic shoulders, where gristle left her female, though a man's heart did beat for justice underneath, her infertility causing this radiating she-male magic.
   Her brother Adam was the first--the genesis of a crazy family, transcending dysfunctional by being born off the grid--for the grid was in them.  Bio-hacking old school, using shamanistic trust in nature, never tempting the Four Winds, knowing even that arctic life never reflexes in relax, for there is always cold energy, which crafts a more fantastic matter.
   Adam and Sheila never got many customers.  And when they did--it meant trouble.  Or a granny with a non-spiked pumpkin pie and some archaic Purple Passion stops by for Moonlit culmination, yet since the Sun always rises--it is never over.  Energy, like God, just won't go away.   

On an Eagle's Wings

  
   "On an Eagle's Wings"
   
   Boy--is that QB (Foles) accurate.  Eagles versus Patriots--is America speaking?  Didn't even Rome revere the Eagle?  Society has always been:  The Eagle versus the Snake.  In symbol and allegory.
   I got the message, until I saw the half-time show, thinking:  "What the hell is going on?"  I expected Optimus Prime and Bumble Bee to transform at any moment; next, I got dizzy, took some California Poppy to relax my nervous system and slay the pain; then, I passed out with some organic tobacco in my mouth.  Couldn't they get Elvis to do the half-time show?  People still see him--here and there.
   Oh well, gotta stay in touch with the children.  And even though Brady is a loyal member of AARP, it is good to see that the elderly can still toss a gaseous pigskin.
    

Beach Boys- I get Around

Luke's Lightsaber Training

OB/GYN--what?

   
   "OB/GYN--what?"
   
    I'm so glad the government spies on us.  Is there also torture, gang-stalking, ELF weaponry, and fire trucks loaded with hookers smoking Luckies?
   It's like World War Z out there.  Two old ladies were at the comic book shop today, arguing with the young worker concerning Trump.  I got my super-hero literature, and made quick to bolt; however, the young girl, the worker, asked:  "Why are you wearing gloves?"
   In her mind, I told her:  "I always wanted to be a gynecologist."  
   Beyond plenty things crooked--it's like Soylent Green out there, and I don't even carry a .44 Magnum like Heston.  

Scapular

  
   "Scapular"
   
   It has to be wool or something; plus, the Priest has to agree for you to wear it.  Sounds passionate and celibate of sorts.  But what goes along with it--I am unfamiliar.
   As late-night radio and actual print media inform you--there is something real in religion.  Still, I see Jesus as a man who spoke to nature as well, and He did.  The American Indian is not a sinner for merging with the power of an Earth rarely corrupted by the funky of finances.  Still, there was brutality.  It has been true with all.
   Save maybe having a slight devotion to disciplined reading of another culture's spiritual beliefs, there is nothing wrong in curiosity, unless you put any other before the One, True God.  However it goes, the God of Christ seems best.  Mercy, yet even Jesus walked away from the rich man without a look, him only following the 10 Commandments; however, even that sounds full of smooth salvation.  Grandma always said to live by the Ten Commandments.  My Aunt asked her to name the Ten Commandments, and heck--I can only give ya about 8, or possibly 9.
   So, do something for your Church, if you can.  Yet this season, dip your hands into the sanitizer, as well as the Holy Water.
  High Frequency rock and roll is not imagined as lyrics go, but the frequency, that constant rift of energy, which smooths out the edges with electricity. 
  Regardless, if able--pass out a turkey to the poor or something.  Even I should take my own advice, sometimes.

Williamson County: Wildlife, TN.

   
   "Williamson County:  Wildlife, TN."

   Up throughout the witching hour, usually under the big neon glow of Moon cheese and a spangle of shimmering stars, as a manager-type for the Tennessean under the label of a Nashville Banner worker, for numerous years I witnessed the nocturnal wildlife in Williamson County, which was also lit by Tesla's electric imagination down the road of yonder yesteryear.
   Anyway, from Sun up till Sun down--you are as Moses, fighting--a talented preacher wearing a collar once Roman mentioned.  So yesterday, underneath the effulgent glimmer of a radiant Daystar, though the air was not salubrious, I found a dead skunk on Sneed Road; next, called the County Clerk's Office and asked to have Animal Control or something pick up the reeking remains.  She denied me.  Just a license plate lady, she said.
   Last time this happened, the dippy County Clerk's Office said to double-bag the animal and put it in my trash can.  I told her:  "It's a damn skunk.  I may be crazy, but I'm not totally stupid."
   My Wheaten Terrier and me pick up and bury small mammals and birds.  We've found a beaver, a cat, and a bunch of squirrels.  We give them burial in proper places; then, say a prayer to Saint Francis, and go drink a beer--the dog just gets the foam off the top of the glass--she likes Bud Heavy.
   Now it's all Pabst.  Cheap.  Aluminum cans--not good with the heavy metals.  But green tea in distilled water follow the brew, and I can even make my own electrolytes with pure copper and gemstones of the sort.
   I think the political news today may be a bit dim.  Do we really want to know that our country is crooked?  Do these wealthy law enforcement agencies and attorney politicians really do nasty things to people?  What's their problem?  It's a Free Country.  And try being a gimp your whole damn life, handled and manipulated crippled by phony physicians and naughty nurses; however, there are one or two good docs out there--they're the ones who tell you that your medicine might really screw you up in the long-run.  Well, you know what I mean.  
   Too, since the higher temperatures--the Grackles are back.