Liberty's Sparkle (8)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (8)"
   
   Liberty was driving Faye back to the apartments in her dented hybrid.  They laughed and giggled, talking a bit recklessly about guys and how they mostly were pointed in one pernicious direction--to plant their personally believed phenomena within that of any woman's womb.
   But Liberty knew better in her beating heart, for her Dad was rock solid concerning his ethical behavior.  Some say he might have quit or given up.  No way.  Guy was totally focused on doing the best for his daughter, wanting not the slightest of distractions.  A quasi-Saint, or maybe more; regardless, a damn fine father.
   As the twosome wended their way closer to the apartments, Liberty turned up the radio--some 80's hair metal, which Faye seemed to totally dig; next, Liberty had sweet reverie of her father holding her child-like form in his wiry arms, whispering to her:  "Ill never leave you sweet child."  
   Alas, the specter of death was upon both him and her; moreover, the worst of it--people assuming that Liberty had done something wrong in life to have become the poor in spirit pauper that she currently was.  Yup, people always assume, or hear the lying whispers of a grander and more sinister scheme.  

Christ: "Behold thy Mother!"

   
   "Christ:  "Behold thy Mother!"
   
   Though I am Catholic, will use the KJV to display John 19:26-27--here goes:
   
26)  When Jesus therefore saw his mother, and the disciple standing by, whom he loved, he saith unto his mother, Woman, behold thy son!

27)  Then saith he to the disciple, Behold thy mother!  And from that hour that disciple took her unto his own home.

   This is Saint John--the Disciple whom Jesus loved as proclaims the New Testament.  The only male Disciple to be at the crucifixion; moreover, the only Disciple not to be martyred, curious.
   Nevertheless, a wondrous sign of devotion and loyalty.  A dismissal of pragmatism and the nonsense of an earthly world hellbent on denying the sublime aspects of care and nurturing.  
   Yet even in fleeing, Saint Peter is still the Rock, curious.  Again, I will quote the macho cool of truck-driving Jack Burton, him having artistically shaken the Pillars of Heaven:  "Never can tell."  

Liberty's Sparkle (7)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (7)"
    
   Liberty decided to play hooky; indeed, it was time to hang out with her Goth friend Faye, grab some banana pancakes at the local Waffle House, and engage in girl-talk symposium, or just plain hang out and shoot the shit--like guys do.  So, after munching down their breakfast, followed by sips of hot coffee with plenty of sugar and cream, the two girls gelled.  
  
FAYE
I totally can't believe you skipped work today.  You Liberty--with such ethics.

LIBERTY
Ah, you don't know me all that well.  I mean we've been neighbors for a a while, but I tend to stay away from the social scene--got a touch of social phobia.

FAYE
I always figured.  Regardless, tell me something about you--like, what's been going on besides all the bullshit in life?  You know, how you grew up and stuff--tell me?  

LIBERTY
I'm totally freaked by people.  My Mom did that I guess.  Turned her back on Dad and me.  Ran away with a garden hose salesman.

FAYE
Wait--a garden hose salesman.  You gotta be kidding, right?

LIBERTY
It sounds sleazy, and it is.  Anyway, I just couldn't talk to people after that.  Thought they were all infected by something nefarious, like I had telepathy or something.  Signed up for Community College a few years ago, but there was no way I could gel with people.  Did finish an Art Appreciation Class, just because the teacher would always turn off the lights and just show us pictures and images of art.  I really liked Michelangelo's Pieta--the Virgin Mary holding Her only Son Jesus, after the Crucifixion.

FAYE
That's deep stuff.  And I know you read.  Not spying or nothing, but I've seen into your apartment and all those books you have.

LIBERTY
Yeah, I like science fiction; plus, physics is cool too.  Finished Michio Kaku's HYPERSPACE, and I really liked it, for it seemed to be written for the layperson, like me.  He talks about poetry and art and merges it all together with cool space and time theories.

FAYE
Yeah, I've read some Vonnegut.  Dude was a bad ass.  Got captured in World Ward 2 fighting those damn Germans, near Dresden.

LIBERTY
Clears her throat, never thinking Faye one to read Vonnegut--what a small world.  I've enjoyed this Faye.  I'm sorry if I judged you by all your piercing and Goth-like attire.  I'm just freaked by people, ya know.

FAYE
Get over it--now we should have more pancakes.  You're buying right?  Smiles, and Liberty just grinned a loving look in the Goth girl's direction.

Liberty's Sparkle (6)

   
    "Liberty's Sparkle (6)"
   
   Faye didn't stop.  She was not eager to be a solitary skank, only entertaining the slow-burning evolution of neolithic men for pragmatic sexual purpose.  Verily, she only wanted a girlfriend.  It burned hot in her asymmetrical though yearning and well rounded heart.
   "I guess Spanky just needed to mark his territory--keep all the coyotes away and everything."
   Liberty still smiled at the kind and friendly act, even after securely locking up her terrier beast within the safety of her humble dwellings.  "I guess he just needed a friend."
   Then, Faye with:  "No, I've got no Native American heritage in me.  Can't talk to dogs and all that stuff.  But I know he loves you, and you need love Liberty.  Too, I'm sorry about your Dad."
   Liberty kept quiet.  Just smiled sweetly, not unearthing the pain and anguish of losing a second parent.  Yeah, Dad was the coolest.  Loyal, like a dog, to the end; on the flip side, her Mom, sold to the quasi-harassment of a testosterone fueled suitor, pestering her until a sleazy marriage; next, sailing away, never to be heard from again.  Not even a fucking note after Dad had passed.  Nothing; nevertheless, Liberty wasn't bitter.  Just plain damn sad.
   And, as she glared in Faye's Goth direction, not minding a friendly face anointed in metallic piercings and haunted by misery--she could not help but see a reflection.
   A mirror image of herself.  A lost soul.  A lost boy, yet so feminine.  Wanting Peter Pan and the crazy amazement of friends who could fly you away to Neverland.   

Doc Holliday and G. Gordon Liddy's sophisticated synergy

   
   "Doc Holliday and G. Gordon Liddy's sophisticated synergy"
   
Wyatt Earp, carrying sometimes, a Colt Buntline Special--magnificence galore;
Moreover, a skinny gimp as a lovely friend--no lore,
Yet Doc Holliday could send any man to his mystical end
Without the guilt of an angel he did love lend
Save Texas Jack Vermillion;
Regardless, none of those damn fine cowboys were alien or of the fallen and reptilian;
Specifically, Holliday was fabulously fond of getting in the last vociferous zinger,
Needing a pint of whiskey every morning to get out of bed in the non-humid, Arizona winter,
And while G. Gordon Liddy doesn't abuse the boisterous booze,
He takes Vitamin E for heart health--never does abuse.
All bad asses, so cool--nothing to prove;
Still, there is always those that need a basketball sized Prozac, calming like a Muse;
Indeed, survival is beyond Darwin's lightweight town,
For Ancient Astronaut Theory has a literature more protracted, though like an enigmatic clown.
"You're a daisy if ya do."
Yup, Narcissus had a reflecting clue.   

Liberty's Sparkle (5)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (5)"
   
   Liberty awoke from the sea of turbulent dreams, flying skyways all night in the wild blue yonder, seeing her Dad as the airman he was--a jet mechanic specifically; nonetheless, it was nice to see Dad, even if he was now anchored deep into the Earth and under a macabre gravestone, so it seemed, and so cold and lonely below Terra's tough terrain.
   When she went out the door dressed for work, it hit her:  "Spanky!?!"
   She had forgotten about her little, wily terrier, always reminded of his presence by him pestering for people food.  She knew he wasn't in the apartment, and that an escape or her stupid mistake may have led him out into the cruelty of the real world, where people were out for themselves, thinking girls a punching bag for their carnal thrusts, nothing more.
   But as she took a step forwards, Faye's door opened, and after a kiss goodbye to both guys with shaved heads and covered in the warpaint of insidious-looking tattoos, the Goth girl eyed Liberty and said:  "I got a visitor last night--your little friend."
   Next, the rascally and small Spanky came dancing out of Faye's apartment door, leaping into Liberty's loving arms and lusciously licking her face like a child in love with a multi-flavored lollipop.
   At that point, all was right for Liberty in life.  And Faye smiled a friendly, sympathetic grin in her meek neighbor's direction. 
   Liberty happily blurted out:  "Thank you Faye.  Thank you."    

Christ: "I am thirsty."

   
   "Christ:  "I am thirsty."
   
   This is not bile and vinegar; specifically, it transcends the humor of that.  The Multiverse functioning at a level beyond, even, your Einstein brain.
   Totally, even Aquinas, "The Good Doctor" had such a grand and marvelous vision of the Father that he retired his literary career, like Joyce with FINNEGANS WAKE--no apostrophe, dude.
   And "I am thirsty" goes beyond consolation for pain.  
   "Jesus wanted all the pain!"  I've heard Protestant Preachers teach this.  Possibly.  Thomas Paine, a drunk, wanted all the liberty.
   But a demigod?  Under Roman rule?  God of Wine, perhaps?  Much offered to victims of the death penalty, but rarely mercy.  Was He thirsty for us to be alive in God?  The Torah incarnate?  The Law now seeing with human eyes and more merciful?  Possibly. 
   He was Christ.  Merged and had synonymous synergy with the Good Ghost, that Holy Spirit, who Kerouac claimed, dictated to him:  ON THE ROAD.
   Be cautious, yes.  Love Christ, yes.  He is the One.  But do not deny Him or His Family their abstraction of God through parable and Truth.
   Make the choice of mercy.  Eat a fish taco.  Be nice.  It's nice to be nice.  When you can, of course.