Hated, even in the womb

   
   "Hated, even in the womb"
   
   Yeah, you turn a lady down who thinks she's the cat's pajamas; next, she wants to kill you, allegorically.  It kind of all works like that.  You see a little boy in a wheelchair with no arms, and you think he has it better off dead.  You tell a teenage girl or boy that ya'll are her or his friends, only to abuse them emotionally, because you are blind to life's beauty.
   We all are indoctrinated sometime; on the contrary, a few follow an indirect path, knowing that suspicion is not paranoia, seeing others lick their vampiric chops, wanting to murder, being assassins who kill softly, under a radar even, forged by iniquity to serve a monstrous state of hidden chaos. 
   The baby dodges the pencil-like instrument shoved into the womb, fighting for its life.  
   A man alone hears them, and clearly, mocking, spreading the fabrication of your false testimony, if only so that you can get a trophy of some kind, and be called a good fellow in front of the mind-bent masses; indeed, the simpler something is, the closer it is to God, and the ascetic relies on pure instinct, resisting not the soul-wash of a wicked baptism, for what is greater than God?  Yet the critics even attempt to fool Him; however, in all of God's foolishness, if He has any, He is wiser than any man or angel.  Get used to it, for we'll all be seeing Him soon.  And Papa don't like that . . . 

California Dreaming

   
   "California Dreaming"
  
   Back in the 1960's, when Vietnam could not be dodged by the poor white kid, nor the black child unable to escape the ghetto, there was a lovely couple, living the American Dream.
   Some dude brought him home from a party.  The husband was drunk as a mongoose on cobra venom, and they placed him in bed.  Next, the dude told the wife:  "We should fool around.  He's so drunk that he'll never know."  The wife kicked his ass out--good for her.  She had a better job than any of you, and to this day has never bragged.  Made a peasant by the fortune of others, and charitable beyond all the masses I've known.  Her deserved dignity is an eternal constellation in the heavens.
   Back in the 1950's you married your high school sweetheart, and a phony college wasn't mandatory to be considered.  Follow the dollar.  Always follow the dollar.
   As Christ happened to mention:  "Love of money--that is the root of all evil."

Snoopy vs. the Red Baron Classic Dogfight HD Clip

Covering your tracks?

   
   "Covering your tracks?"
   
   You attempt to forge the goat.  Always on the Internet, like Bluebeard's dumb ass wife.  When years ago, you were the one that refused her the chance to see a graduation.  You were the one that broke the chain, because you are the weakest link.  Put some more jellybeans in your head.  They're yummy.
   You and yours never came over--from the genesis of it all.  Now, you are the one who blames.  How many people can you flatter with your lips?  How many charms from your whisper will go without challenge?  How many people can you place in your pocket?  We all know it was a set up.  The phony medical records and reports from bush league law.  Your crooked ways know no shame, but the mirror does.  False testimony, doctors that are mercenaries, breaking laws that you swore to uphold--your hypocrisy has no end, but it will.  
   They swarm me like bees, and I take many stings, yet am not a phony, like you.  How many spies will you place among the neglected and abused?  And mind you--neglected and abused by the likes of you and yours.  Go watch the Cosby Show.  Put some more pills in the pudding, but have me sign a document years ago, setting up a child who only loved, and when he turns his back--you and yours were putting pills in the pudding.
   Get on the horn.  Contact everyone with your diabolical enchantments.  You already have.  You can't stop playing the part of liar--so you continue to sow more weeds among the crop.  You and yours know about weeds.  Flying it in, breaking federal law.  And you and yours laugh about it.
   That's how it is.  But there's always a bigger fish.  Or one brave watcher who will roll over on your fortune of deceit.  If only you weren't so obvious.  

Big Trouble In Little China: It's All In The Reflexes

Christ--that glint in his eye

 
 
   "Christ--that glint in his eye"

   Balance, counterpoise, and all things groovy--remember, not good and evil.  Not Masonic patterns, doing equal here or there, for that is the ultimate fabrication of true chaos; indeed, balance is mother and father, or father and mother.  Fear the father; next, honor the mother.
   Christ is axiomatic balance.  He has the Father's glint in His eye.  That visionary swagger; on the flip side, you see His Mother's mercy.  And a benevolent wife allows a husband to be tough on their children, knowing he does so only out of masculine love.  She cries, yes, but tells her child:  "Your father loves you.  He's only tough on you because the world is so cruel.  When you walk out the door of our house my child--the world will tear you to pieces, unless you are steeled by the father."
   But, what the hell do I know?  I'm a putz, on some levels.  Hell, I still like to urinate out in the woods better than in a commode.  Nature drinks animal piss; thus, why not mine?  And I only piss brilliance.  Beef jerky is really good.  I like the spicy.  

Why Chastity?

   
   "Why Chastity?"
   
   Nothing is more fertile, than that which has been frigid first.  The Northern European gods attempted to mimic the One, True God.  Too, God is a man--just a man, slaving in his workshop, forging creatures and beings so much more powerful than Him, and only for the challenge; however, God has had to kill many of the living--it has been written, and even deal with demons strictly; indeed, if the Father is in the business of fighting demons--you are too, like unto Him, in His Awesome Image.  He doesn't want a fair fight.  He wants to be bloodied in a metaphorical bar brawl in order to be bruised for our offenses and loaded down with opprobrium.  
   Can't have intercourse--the physicians ask why.  Cause there is always a better man.  Until I allegorically kill the better man; next, I am nothing.  I know my place--in humble suburbia, quirky, kind, brutally honest, weird as a Wheaten, and understand that Jesus Christ Himself, in his gorgeous dirty blonde, with eyes aglow and waaaay better than mine, spitting tobacco, and could take any woman I chose; thus, until I beat my big brother, and I won't, for He is Christ, and I'm a dreamer; as a result, Freud mentioned:  "Every man is great in his dreams."  Remember that, and I will too.  We are all but fools, not just me, and you for reading this, but I applaud you--there is nothing more divine than hot blondes with green eyes and muscle cars save God the Father, and the whole damn Holy Family--yee-haw, I found my place--I'm a Protestant/Catholic; plus, I like the Old Testament doctor, as the doctor told me not to read the Old Testament, for I was too brutal on myself.  Good for me.
   One of my siblings needs to sculpt his abs.  Why be a warrior dwarf, when you qualify for light-elf with shape-shifting abilities?   Drive a muscle car, once again, and feel the Grant Yankee of a tomb in New York City.  He is a shrine, and drank the shit out of it--nobody knew why, not even Sherman, Sherman having said:  "I don't understand him; moreover, I don't even think he understands himself."
   The Civil War was cruel.  Remember history, not tear it down, or we will all repeat it.