Existence Womb (95)

   
   "Existence Womb (95)"
   
Miriam didn't mourn into the gloom of dark blue;
On the contrary, she imbibed the azure glow of the Good Ghost's hue,
Seeing the female flame ignite, encompassing all around,
And Miriam attempted to inhale within its holy sound,
Igniting a better, more merciful humanity,
Keeping promises as the Rainbow was originally forged to be;
Alas, a target for nefarious things now always on the back
Of Christ's Soldiers, for evil always wants to sadistically attack,
Yet Saint Michael so bold and having amazing might,
With a sword of fire, perpetually ready to make good fight;
Thus, Miriam prayed for Buck and her Dad's safe return
To a harbor of safety, where more love could their family live to learn.   

Existence Womb (94)

   
   "Existence Womb (94)"
   
   Buck recalled the MAD MAX movie--the real one, down in Aussie Land with the striving Catholic, Mad Mel himself, hearing:  "Last of the V-8's Max!!!  Last of the V-8's!!!"  
   Furthermore, Buck knew that his SS 350 was no small block; regardless, the old-fashioned, outdated rules of the Queen's Language may offer BS about that, but in Buck's mind--a 350 was purely on its way to being a big block; specifically, an axiomatic big block, offering both low end torque; plus, top speed terror.    
   He opened up the four barrel, that ultra double pumper doing the angry pit bull rumble and all, giving him quality top end speed, beyond the enemies of Burt Reynolds himself. 
  
* * * * * * *

   Miriam awoke with a saliva drenched yawn, lit up a smoke, inhaled the anti-oxidant toxins, that paradox of the Red Man's wit; next, saw the letter Buck left for her--it reading:
   
   Beloved Miriam,
Sorry, but I gotta cruise, and fast.  We must forgive your father.  I've gone to rescue him.  Listen to Freddy, and stay away from whiskey-drinking cooters.
                                                                Yours in True Love, Buck
  
   She was like:  "WTF?"  

Existence Womb (93)

   
   "Existence Womb (93)"

   Miriam was sleeping soundly; indeed, every since her Dad, Dr. Luke had removed the implant behind her ear, the Sleep Paralysis had not affected her.  Buck noticed more, she cooed like a pigeon dove during the nocturnal hours, so sweetly and sublime.
   Too, Buck pondered the coyote's mantra:  "All is sacred; nothing is sacred."  Thus, he pondered further, diving deep into the psychological weirdness of her Dad; moreover, all that he had done for his daughter, as well as Buck himself.  The man couldn't help he turned rogue.  The government probably had more than just a simple gun on him; therefore, Buck decided:  RESCUE.
   Should Miriam come with him?  Nope, way dangerous cloak and dagger crap.  Moreover, she would be okay, out here, in the bucolic backwoods of Little Rock, Arkansas, where the worst she would encounter was a cooter with too much whiskey in his system--though alcohol makes people do the dumbest things, way more than your average narcotics.
    Hence, Buck penned a quasi-Dear John letter to Miriam, and went on his way.  His canine telepathy had pinpointed the approximate location of her father, and it would be nice, if he was successful in his rescue attempt, to reforge the trinity of a family resurrected.
   Next, he gently kissed Miriam on the forehead, hoping she wouldn't take the fuchsia-hued Boss 429 on any personal adventures, and then he gallantly departed in the SS 350, heading towards the Florida swamps.

Grandma Bertha: Everybody's poop stinks

   
   "Grandma Bertha:  Everybody's poop stinks"
    
   Big Bertha.  Bert.  The Air Force.  Wide Track.  She went by many names; plus, Bag Lady, as her husband, my Pap used to playfully say.
   I used to drive cross country during the beginning of my 16th year.  A stormy adolescence.  The mental weirdness started however, way before adolescence.  At the spawn of my consciousness I was fully aware of pubic hairs on toilet seats, Sleep Paralysis, and Social Phobia.
   Anyway, they all said I didn't try.  Hell, I did more than try, was on the road before Kerouac dropped out of college.  Been on every part of 40--both West and East.  California to Virginia, by the time I was 18.  Saw plenty of bizarre stuff.  
   So, when I drove the approximate 1,000 miles from Little Rock to Richmond, anchoring down on Grandma Bertha's pseudo-suburbia, she'd hug me like no other, saying:  "Lift your head up Mark; everybody's SHIT stinks."  
   Now I know--she was right.  But people with money cloak their shit.  Or are given a freebie.  Hey, it's a fruitcake America, and no longer a free country.  You can even get arrested for writing poetry with no clear and present danger, no fighting words, even if it's ambiguous.  
   So, when the vivid imagery arrives to me, or hallucinations, or possibly mysticism, and I see Saint Raphael marching boldly, blonde hair blowing in the breeze--yup, hold your head up my man, for everybody's shit stinks.  And mostly, more than yours, unless you're them.     

Existence Womb (92)

   
   "Existence Womb (92)"
   
   Buck and Miriam were going old school.  A VHS machine hooked up to a black and white television with rabbit ears in their pad.  They found and rented Glenn Ford's JUBAL and DAY OF THE EVIL GUN, both silent and engaged in the classic Westerns.  When the tapes had culmination, their conversation began.

MIRIAM
I like how Mr. Ford quoted Christ's Beatitudes in that one movie.  Blessed are the merciful, for they too shall receive mercy.

BUCK
He was always an elegant and cool cowboy.  Not as bloodthirsty as Mr. Eastwood.

MIRIAM
It's a shame that nobody cares anymore.  About Christ, religion, ancient astronaut theory, all the things that offer us the truth.

BUCK
Your truth.  Taking care of an elderly mother with neurological distress--no help, yet not a soul in the world gave you credit.  Lifting, feeding, wiping, brushing, praying, dressing, loving.

MIRIAM
Why is that?

BUCK
The dollar.  The green.  Love of money--it's all that matters.  That and a girl who squirts, a psychosomatic tendency when she feels like a woman.

MIRIAM
What do you mean, squirts?

BUCK
Uh, don't worry about it.  Anyway, yeah, things tap into people's Pineal gland; next, they're affected by monstrous things, wear masks, and it's up to the wise coyote to teach with foolish wisdom.

MIRIAM
You think I'll make it Buck?  I mean, be ordinary like most other people?

BUCK
You mean stupid?  Nah, you'll never make it.

Existence Womb (91)

 
   "Existence Womb (91)"
    
   Miriam didn't saunter like cowboy Glenn Ford, him with his pretty boy, androgynous looks always riding into town; next, a married man's wife falls in love with him and her envious husband tries to gun him down with an angry Colt .45--no, Miriam ran like the four winds blowing in unison, up the garage stairs and into the pad, waking Buck with a stern and firm shake.  Thus, he awoke, and calmly so.
  
MIRIAM
Buck, I just met my animal guide--her name is Freddy, and she is a coyote!  A bit of a goofball, but not a drug runner, deceptive, or dangerous.  You were right about them having many Totem meanings.

BUCK
Yup.

MIRIAM
That's all you're gonna say?  Holy Fire--I just met my animal guide.

BUCK
You've encountered more.

MIRIAM
Sat on the futon next to Buck.  Lost a bit of her passion, getting meek and soft; still, inquisitive as always.  So, who is the Patron Saint of Coyotes?

BUCK
Chief Mojo Rising, of course.

   Miriam stuck her tongue out at him; then, giggled.  

Saint Roch--Patron Saint of dogs

   
   "Saint Roch--Patron Saint of dogs"

   I guess you could call this guy, the ROCK; however, we all know Christ said that was the mighty Saint Peter, the architect of the Universal Church.
   Anyhow, Saint Roch has much to do with lore and legend, yet truth always resides in such fantastic things for souls with eyes to see and ears to hear.
   Saint Roch was called to help treat victims of the Bubonic plague; moreover, he contracted it himself.  And like an American Indian, as my Grandpap would say, he went out into the woods to perish alone.  
   Alas, in a sublime way, he didn't perish, for a holy hound brought him food; plus, licked his wounds, healing them.  A simple man, with a simple friend; specifically, man's best friend.  
   Also, Patron Saint of bachelors and the falsely accused.  Get me!?!