Saint Dominic--Dog of the Lord

   
   "Saint Dominic--Dog of the Lord"
   
   People always ask me:  "What's up with Catholics and the Virgin Mary?"
   They should read the first two Chapters of the Gospel of Luke; next, they'll know; regardless, I ask myself:  "What's up with Catholics and canines?"
   Saint Patrick and wolves, Saint Francis and wolves, and plenty more.  But what of Saint Dominic?
   He was the son of Blessed Joan.  His Mom had a mystical vision that her unborn child was a "dog" and that he would set the world on fire.  This is symbolized in art containing the Saint, by a dog with a torch in its mouth.  Domini canis--dog of the Lord.
   Anyway, Our Blessed Virgin Mother appeared with a wreath of roses, instructing him to say the Rosary everyday.  The dog, well, he did as he was told.  Who doesn't love and adore dogs?   
   Moreover, every Good Shepherd needs a sheep dog.  

Existence Womb (88)

   
   "Existence Womb (88)"
   
   Buck and Miriam were in high cotton, as the American South does brag of glee; anyway, cruising in the fuchsia-hued, monster Boss 429, Miriam piloting the quasi-aircraft, Buck decided to offer some Native American wisdom concerning her inner coyote.
   Indeed, Miriam did have the power of shape-shifting.  Of dealing and unmasking things unreal, yet so very tangible to the mystic.  So Buck began.
   "You need to know the story of the Coyote and the Buffalo."
   "What's that?  And it doesn't sound very Catholic?"  Miriam pondered out loud.
   Buck went on, giving the short version:  "Coyotes can be intrinsically devious; however, that is not always the case.  Regardless, Coyote made fun of a Buffalo skull, more or less.  And Buffalo was not happy upon a type of resurrection.  Coyote said he was sorry and would make new horns for the Buffalo to kill his competition.  Buffalo agreed, and did so.  Was happy, gifting the coyote a small cow as a friend, but telling Coyote to never eat him.  Well, of course the Coyote did--get me?"
   "What the heck was that?"  Miriam blurted inquisitively.
   Buck with:  "It's about keeping promises.  The Rainbow--God's promise to never destroy the World with water again and such.  Plus, Coyote could have friends if he kept his couth and cool."
   Miriam wondered aloud:  "Am I gonna shift like you--I mean coyoteways?"
   Buck added:  "If you keep your promises and retain the Holy Spirit inside; next, anything is possible."
   Miriam took it in, elegantly, and with seriousness.  Next, the teenage goofball came out, and she floored the Boss 429, throwing Buck back into his seat.  She let off quickly, slowing the situation down; next, said:  "I'll keep mine Buck.  My promises.  I'll always love the Holy Spirit.  You too."   

Existence Womb (87)

   
   "Existence Womb (87)"
   
   When Buck had the sweet serendipity of stumbling across an old cooter wanting to depart with his Boss 429, he drooled through his fangs; indeed, while preferring the small block--its mercurial bang out of the gates, he had really been in love with piloting the low-flying SS with the 350.  Thus, he bought the beat up Boss 429.
   Throughout the summer, Miriam and Buck restored the massive motor and the exterior of the car, painting it a fuchsia hue.  And Buck knew:  He should give the classic hot rod to Miriam.
   It wasn't that fast off the line, doing 60 in about seven seconds; however, being built for ultra-high speed cruising, the thing could run with NASCAR on the tracks, almost.  And he knew Miriam would never open up the massive four barrel to such intense top speeds; thus, he gifted it to her.
   She was so happy.  Blushed--it matching the sparkly paint job of the car.  And how could a teenager not want to brag a bit?  To manifest that spirit of bravado, saying:  "Mine is better than yours."
   Therefore, Miriam blurted to Buck:  "I got more motor than you wolfman."
   Buck grinned, knowing it was all in the fun spirit of the V-8 motor, and the glee that it brought to us well-preserved Americans.   

Existence Womb (86)

   
   "Existence Womb (86)"
    
   The Fourth of July had arrived in Arkansas, and that meant:  Out in the bucolic boondocks there be heavy artillery used by the youth, well, fireworks.
   Miriam convinced Buck to pick up some firecrackers and sparklers, just crude noise makers and fire that would shimmer and shine, reminding of mystical magic--in a sublime sense.
   Outside of their pad, they ignited the quasi-explosives, laughing and playing, while Buck imbibed one too many a pale lager, even stumbling once or twice, but keeping his uncanny cool and couth. 
   He kissed Miriam gently on the lips when the fun was done, causing her to blush and feel a sparkly tingle run up her backbone and into her blessed brain.  Next, the twosome retired to their pad, turned on the tube, watching the news and stuff, and Buck trying to figure out who all the late night talk show hosts were, and if they actually were funny--not like back in the early 80's when he enjoyed Johnny Carson in usually blue-tinted suits, the man getting more handsome as he aged; plus, more comedic, having reverence for his prolonged career in making people sweetly get the giggles.
   Miriam finally fell into the sea of dreams, a cigarette dangling from her sleeping grip, which Buck gently removed and curiously took a drag from, wondering how people enjoyed such things.
   Afterwards, he stripped his clothing off, morphed wolfways, and prowled the pastoral presence of East End Arkansas, noticing the possums and other little creatures just trying to endure and survive their unwanted lives.  The Moon was waxing fullways, and he wondered of the mysteries of God, thanking the Man upstairs for making him a Catholic and an American.  Next, just to play his canine part, he let out a howl at the encompassing cream of the glittering Milky Way, laughed like a smug coyote, and returned as Miriam's loyal protector.  Just a simple, no hassle day.  Thank God for peace, and he did.  

Saint John of the Cross, Spanish Mystic

   
   "Saint John of the Cross, Spanish Mystic"
   
   Is it mysticism?  Is it psychosis?  Is it both?
   Did Saint John of the Cross, a Spanish Mystic, warn of communication with God, unearthly mysticism?  What of Dark Night of the Soul?  Mysticism?  Communication with above?
   And architect a theological equation--in my opinion:  "Purgation + Illumination = Union."
   Regardless, he did more than he mentioned--in my humble opinion.
   Cleanse the glass; next, the Light of God enters and purifies, like smoke for the beloved Red Man.
   And there is Saint Teresa of Avila, a friend, and her entrance into the crystal communication.  A Pineal Gland containing crystals, a radio transmitter unto the heavens.  Seeing reptiles.  Not minding the small ones.  Evil too, could be ubiquitous.
   Regardless, Christ knows:  "Knock, and it shall be open.  Ask, and ye shall receive."
   We forget this.  We focus on Hillary's psychosis.  Another Bill Clinton in the White House--excuse me, a Cat House.  But what do I know?  Just what I've read.  Turning over a library, never losing or having a lack of interest.
   It is all a question.  Get with it; next, it shall be answered.  But we WILL.  We WILL people to their demise.  Our selfish love of God in America--the green.  The dollar.  But there is God's Eye upon it.     And it is watching you and me.     

Guns N' Roses - Knockin' on Heaven's Door - Live At The Ritz - 1988

Existence Womb (85)

   
   "Existence Womb (85)"
   
   Buck left the priest a bit pissed.  Nah, he was cool.  Got over the lack of a priest's college pseudo-education.  Understood, and was reminded of King David's words:  "Ye are gods."
   Of course nobody gets it.  The power of humanity.  At the end, but in competition with the Celestial Hierarchy; indeed, regular angelity--and humanity stands close by.  But them:  To serve us. 
   And it was all for the glory of Papa.  And that man, that god, King David, beheading Goliath for a simplistic reason--an insult against the Hebrew God.  The King having an unearthly love for God.  A man covered in the gore of sin, yet his LOVE, his LOVE for God was soooo great that it transcended reason.
   Buck wondered why King Saul become jealous of the man whose heart was like unto God.  Saul--he stood head and shoulders above the rest.  Jealousy.  Kill the beautiful.  Hate Tom Brady.  For what? 
   So much envy, and Buck knowing of Trump saying to a female secretary:  "Yes, men are better than women, but a good woman is better than ten men."  Nobody reports on that.  Or the billionaire paying off poor people's mortgages.  
  What lies.  But was Buck lying to himself?  Should he engage Miriam in carnal coitus?  Why the freak not?  God of course.  That beginning of wisdom:  Fear of God.  No soul preserves it.  False intellect.  No thanks to predestination.  To the physics of ultimate manipulation, yet LOVE.
   Buck punched the monster 350 block on the SS Chevelle.  Got out some aggression.  Black Top Highway and the rest of James Taylor poetry.