😇We Walk by Faith, not by Sight☀️
💦A continuation of:💘
“The Unity of the Holy Spirit,”
“Prophesy Divine Mercy,”
“The Sword of the Spirit,”
“Sweet Communion of the Ghost,”
“The Word of God,”
“Hosanna in Excelsis!,”
“Star of Bethleham,”
“The Holy Grail and the Book of Life,”
“The Tree of Life,”
“The Lion and the Lamb,”
“White Horse Faithful and True,”
“Ascension,”
“To the Greater Glory of God,”
“The Wonder of God,”
“The Most High God: Living Lofty Ideals,”
“Trinity: Paschal’s Triangle,”
“The River: Eastertide,”
“The Living Word is Loving,”
“Our Daily Bread,”
“Communion,” and
“The Living Word is our Eucharist”
…Bible Verses with Running Commentary

The Seven Gifts of the Holy Spirit
“Understanding”💠
Proverbs 8:12
12 I wisdom dwell with prudence,
and find out knowledge of witty inventions.

☁️🌬Genesis 9:13🌈
13 I do set my bow in the cloud, and it shall be for a token of a covenant between me and the earth.

(Table of Contents:)✍️
🌞Sunday 8/13/17:
“The Book of Life: is God’s Own Diary”
🌞Monday 8/14/17:
“Confrérie Galactique du Chaplelet”
🌞Tuesday 8/15/17:
“The Spiritual Inheritance of the Soul💠: A Claim to Reverence”
🌞Wednesday 8/16/17:
“Walking with Enoch”
🌞Thursday 8/17/17:
“The White Dove’s Nesting Behavior”
🌞Friday 8/18/17:
“Their Eyes We’re Watching…”
🌞Saturday 8/19/17:
“The Pragmatic Stigmatic”
🌞Sunday 8/20/17:
“Mr. Fix-It and the Crucifix”
🌞Monday 8/21:17:
“The Watchtower’s Vigilante Vigil”
🌞Tuesday 8/22/17:
“The Lion of Judah”

…The “host with the Most” High, will post, ’round about midnight.✌️

🌞Sunday 8/13/17
📯”Echoes of the Holy Ghost”🌈
Taking the Angel Gabriel’s Red Pill…❤️
🗺💠🏰
💠: Just Mention God. (…Hallelujah!) 🎉
“The Book of Life”
(It was to be Written.)
…I would bet on “the lion with Stigmata.”
❣️
📖🌈🌎
📜(Today’s Offerings:)📜
-Essay: “The Book of Life: is God’s Own Diary”✍️

🏹🌩🌈
“The Book of Life: is God’s Own Diary”

“The Battle-Cat’s War Hammerstein”
Under the weight of impassioned agony, the anger and wrath of God is enkindled, and within this crucible of the heated pressure borne of a pointed punctuation mark, the blood red tides of a titled tidal wave crash and churn as if in the pit of a gnawing stomach, embattled against the rising rages and sieging flow of a fuming firestorm flaring within the nostrils of a charged-up Calvary of the Holy War. Adorned in the charred cherubim finery of fervor, this ancient refinery of crimson oil crushes into itself, imploding and dying unto the anointment of aether, and then rising anew with the boiling-over of a red-hot iron drill-bit, clenched within the bridle of a veritable battle-cat of Christ’s Castle and Command, and searing against the antagonism of incense barraging through the powder of broken bones, entrenched, and drenched, within bloodied white fur.

“Finders Trapper-Keepers”
The embittered embodiment of an unkept unkempt brother breathes with the fire of a hailstorm in the poetic exercise of an exorcism of the Almighty, much to the smoldering chagrin and discordant dismay of shocked onlooking apparitions of assorted antichrists, hoping in their own vanity to see this torrential typhoon of the Holy Ghost💠 go down in flames from shouldering the lie of their fallacious alibis.

“My Dear Diary”
“The Ante-Christ Diaries” tongue-in-cheek title reads back it’s own name, in the most perfect proper English pronunciation to ever proceed from the Hebrew tongue of an Ancient Greek Annunciation, under the pre-text of a preamble to this unabridged and underscored helm💠 of the holy Scriptures, writ in God’s Own handwriting.

“Superman’s Red Phone-Boothe”
An alter ego jumps into the altar of this Copenhagen’s “The Little Mermaid,” as she lithely steadies her squeamishly staid, statuesque and ensconced, stayed stance. Secured unto the bowsprit of a believing blood vessel, the Bavarian bulwarks of a busty Brawn bride brace us all against the coming maelstrom of malign, with the gallantry of the Galatians Epistle of grace, as she quenches the gushing flow of God’s gaping mouth, aghast at the gaping wound pierced into the pulsating side of a treasured Swedish neutrality, spurting out agápē in the outlining of a halo, enmeshed in the double-blind double vision💠 of a hemorrhaging, hemophiliac, double helix.

“The Unbeatable is Weird Science”
Under the inadvertent guise of no guile, a guide💠 too good to be true is lost upon a generation of skeptics and cynics, as the sophisticated pandering of esoteric and exciting philosophies outweighs the simple purity of the Philippians, unto the undoing of this untoward tract of tepid toddlers. Elsewhere, in the tantalizing tantrum of a theologian, the thrust of Thessalonians turns an old trick, and an interrogation of interstellar, truly telescopic and moveable proportions, baffles the King and I, left wading, waiting, and wafting in the Bali Ha’i incense of the South Pacific Shangri-La from the broken beaker of a science classroom. Chemistry crackles and pops in crustaceous poetry, breathing in this one unbreakable kiss from beneath the gym class bleachers, as if of the brightly colored shell of a bombshell M&M, and in a bleating and bleached-white Bunsen burner of breakaway platinum blonde brimstone, my candy girl glistens with all the mouthwatering goodness of the River Jordan, caught mid-Air, in a slam dunk!
…Father, Son, and Holy Ghost…
✡️🌈💦
❣️

🌞Monday 8/14/17
📯”Echoes of the Holy Ghost”🌈
Taking the Angel Gabriel’s Red Pill…❤️
🗺💠🏰
💠: Just Mention God. (…Hallelujah!) 🎉
“The Book of Life”
(It was to be Written.)
…I would bet on “the lion with Stigmata.”
❣️
📖🌈🌎
📜(Today’s Offerings:)📜
-Essay: “Confrérie Galactique du Chaplelet”✍️

🏹🌩🌈
“Confrérie Galactique du Chaplelet”
(English Translation: “Galactic Confraternity of the Rosary”)

“Bridal Vale of Breathy Giggles”
“It is done.” She giggles furtively into a mischievously furrowed brow, carefully enshrouding her bloody used tampon with toilet tissue, to be most solemnly placed within a waste receptacle as if swaddling a sacred baby within the manger of Mary. Her masochistic land of childhood make-believe leaves a trail of glitter in her wake, awakened unto this reality of a new land now made real, emerging from her soul💠 as like unto Lazarus from beneath the sanctification of a newly sanitary napkin. A funeral shroud encapsulates this silver bullet, caught between her pointy teeth at the last instant, as the Wolf of Gubbio Himself gushes forth in a violet stream of modesty and wielding red roses, placid and placated within the delicate binding of this softly-skinned River💠, caught mid-air on the inside cover of a Moleskine journal, emblazoned with the trademark of Life💠.

“Volumes Upon Masses of Moleskine”
She flips back through the pages of her years as she flips back her hair, perusing casually the porous portent of that old journal, the “living proof” of that vast journey, forged indelibly within the inescapable prowess of her photographic memory. She tucks in her built-in ribbon book-marker as she tucks in a lock of hair behind her ear, musing on the endless analogies of parallels to be drawn, nestled like Russian Nesting Dolls within this single active organism that becomes of her living relationship with God. As like unto a pee-wee league sports team, our pow-wow of Trinity team spirit💠 is built up within our hands, choking up in a responsorial Psalm of a perfect genomic sequence along the sliding shank of an old Louisville Slugger.

“The Lion of Judah Uncaged”
Taking turns on task force management, We get the job done, much to the amusement of a park full of unknowingly interceded safari guests, ushered into an ambidextrous ambulance of amelioration by this new leading lady of the Lion King. Forging a star trek at Valley Forge, the forgery of a lifetime skids across death row, unveiled from deception with the angelic pit crew of a Chi Rho living legend. Across town, a slew of hasty, headstrong fanatics are frustrated in the freestyle of a Philadelphia storage G-unit, as the wall-scaling, unequivocal Avenger of the Lord fesses up from within💠, as a built-in💠 inside job implanted of divine Providence, and the unimpeded urgings of of the Holy Ghost💠 unleash a long-winded tale within the confessional of a Freemason lodge, about the maladroit mishaps of “The Girl with the Tail,” who incidentally, was the cover-story of the century for this murder mystery saga, of trial, tragedy, torture, and crimes against humanity.

“Mercy is the ‘Ivy League’ of Justice”
Katharine Hepburn bewails the moment as the African Queen is ferried Out of Africa, and as Meryl is urged💠 to “Swing away,” sign after sign is sung and slung, hewed with the hung like a leper messiah from the Handel of that tree by the quadrangle of Ursinus College. Ursa Major seeps into the the teetotaling teabag of the bear-clad Big Dipper, as the “toe of a tiger” is caught upside down like Saint Peter and dunked into the underworld of Persephone, to be wrung out like the juice strung from this forbidden fruit of a pomegranate, lunged like a French grenade into the fire of these lyrics of an old racist chant, calling like a lynch mob for the crucifixion of this ——.

“The Crimson Tide (…of Menstruation)”
A southern Belle rings for supper, as Gabriel’s repressed memories give way to the childhood slave ship of Amistad, with the blood-drenched and retching rag of the ragtime wench fainting at the thought of Nurse Ratched, as Chief and Mac run like a mac truck to swoop into this victory of Nike, like a primeval Optimus Prime, to convey the clarion convoy that is our sweet chariot of fire, and the clairvoyant, living, breathing, blood vessel of prophesy and elucidation for the Book of Revelation.

“Gabriel is the Ghost💠”
The Winged Victory of Samothrace stands in stark relief against the terror of the last watch, of the longest night left on Earth. The memory whisks away the whimsically feline-whiskered Lioness’s brave Spirit💠 into her whiskey-doused recollection of the War, sitting up under the half moon in her call to Arms, amidst the otherwise certain destruction of all existence as we know it in the desolate description of the Bible’s Apocalypse, as the fulfillment of the inferior prediction of an uncharitable interpretation, in the “alternate ending.”

“The Five-Star General”
Her say in the matter manifests as a miracle, confirming her heritage as the Holy Ghost💠 in her ability both to accurately portend and to meaningfully manifest prophecy, by the sheer force of her will, aimed in altruism and in truth right alongside that same will, of God Almighty. The happenstance recruitment of fresh blue blood coincides with the timely coming of age of this ageless sagesse, and in the diaspora of dispensation from the draft, to keep the angelic bloodline alive and preserve a people left living to save, a drastic reduction of resources and the devastation of available manpower is thoroughly felt throughout the heavenly troops, leaving open and unfilled certain officers’ positions and crucial leadership command posts. Gabriel soon steps up to occupy the nearest vacant post, and is quickly promoted to the Five-Star General, commanding the entirety of Heaven’s Army of Light. The post haste parlance of an antiquated and panoramic patronage, is received in just the “10:4” turnover needed to turn the tides of a losing War, received by Tyler as a telepathic transmission from the Most High God, well “over and out,” as far outside the “outside-the-box” bounds of earthly limitations, with the unique mental capabilities of a purely pictorial thinker, and caught within the mind’s Eye💠 like a gleam of “The Shining” in the visuospatial thinking abilities of an alien, to welcome home Johnny and Jack in this poetic release of recapturing a moment, presented here and now anew, with the captivating Captain wielding the flow of the heavens as the rippling River💠 of the captured flag, twinkling in this, the Eye💠, as the ineffable Light💠 of God’s victory.
✡️🌈💦
❣️

🌞Tuesday 8/15/17
(✝️The Assumption of Mary)
📯”Echoes of the Holy Ghost”🌈
Taking the Angel Gabriel’s Red Pill…❤️
🗺💠🏰
💠: Just Mention God. (…Hallelujah!) 🎉
“The Book of Life”
(It was to be Written.)
…I would bet on “the lion with Stigmata.”
❣️
📖🌈🌎
📜(Today’s Offerings:)📜
-Essay: “The Spiritual Inheritance of the Soul💠: A Claim to Reverence”✍️
-(✝️The Assumption of Mary😇)

I may have been brought up Presbyterian, but I was truly “Raised” as Catholic.✝️😜

🏹🌩🌈
“The Spiritual Inheritance of the Soul💠: A Claim to Reverence”

The Assumption: “Oh, I just guessed…”😉

(“…It💠 was God!”)
In an exclamation of surprise and giddy bewilderment, a baffled bevy of onlookers stands in awe, as these new-age remnants of Israel simply cannot look past that fleeting and festooned fledgling of the Faith, bedecked in the wispy wraithlike white feathers of the Wind, and furtively clutching unto the starry canopy of the sky that is the cloak of our Heavenly Father.

“Eye💠 of the Tigris”
Gabriel’s ghostlike grip upon the gusseted gavel of God’s truth flys out the window💠 of her corseted nave, as her rib cage rises from the release of her naval navel in that last gasp, and in her eerie exhale upon that church organ, her sacred heart’s holy heartstrings are strung on high, with the icicle lights of God’s perpetual memory.

“Dirty Paws and Selah’s Pause”
Glistening with the glory of the Most High, and caught with the soft fuzzy paws of her paused breath, the crux of creation is thus illumined in majesty, brought to Life💠 in resuscitation and suspended in Time, daringly displayed like an ornamental tree-topper to be seen by all, in pious humility for the benefit of planet Earth’s astounded spectators. Dripping with the angora of aether from being filled and fulfilled with the Holy Ghost💠, and dangling like debonair black-tie coattails within this singing harp’s golden gateway💠 of a glissando, all are thus enjoined unto Christ, in the reclamation of the Spirit💠. The reconciliation of man unto God is brought about by an existential ushering, in the resounding and gut-wrenching gallows of holy gravitas, incorporated in alongside glorified grief, up the stairway of Jacob’s dream by pure Faith, fortified by fortitude as steadfastly wrought-iron within an iron-clad will, enchanted betwixt a chastity belt of dedication to God and made almighty in altruism, as this gauzy veil of the Bride💠. She proceeds, in a spectral glance, from the vale of tears of a sheerly sinfully-inspired oversight, now revealed in the perfect transparency of honesty, by this spiritually-constructed glass house, of God’s pyramidal Soul💠.

“Swept Away in a Manger”
The makeshift nativity scene sought out of the “Overlook Hotel,” manifests inwardly, to compensate with purity of Spirit💠 for that outwardly degradation, perpetrated by the hand of man, and whilst caught up in the snow-globe flurry of a questioning quest, asking alongside that dispatched dolly of the uncrated crucifix, the freshly unfettered and unequivocal Freelancer💠 of Faith shacks up in the shackles of God, far outside the earthly reach or Byzantine breach brought up of any hostile hostel of a bittersweet psych unit unity, freed from inside the lyrics of the “Hotel California.”

“Eye On… (Peace💠Is) …the Prize”
The tiny plaque, commemorating a written score of musical accompaniment for my spiritual stance of “Reverence for Life,” immediately and intrinsically impales like a lance this bleeding heart of a Pentecostal red balloon, and in the sweetest release of a reverie, the crystal-clear clarion call of Gabriel’s triumphant horn blares through the murky cloud cover of man’s deceitful darkness, and the earthly ego’s blockade of mortality’s billowy bluster, with the incorruptible and crushing crescendo of the very highest order of heavenly choirs.

“The Procession”
The church bells all bleat out the Angelus, and mysteriously wafting music shines down upon the shrinking wraithlike waif of an orphan, and a widow, and a wretch. She at once explodes, into the blessed and colorful rosette confetti of rejoicing. As if in a parading procession of prayers, the huddled masses of Ellis Island are gathered up at the mouth of our River💠 of agápē, staring agape and aghast amidst this syncopated harmonizing of universal consciousness, in the outpouring of “oohs and aahs” unwound of moments of “ahas” over God’s amassing of amazement and our collective marveling. We stare💠 straight on, awe-struck over the spilled contents of this new respirating D-Cup of the Covenant, in our united sharing of the Spirit’s💠 endless echo, of the eternal Resurrection and reverberating rebirth of the entirety of the Universe, sewn, stitch by stitch, unto the eternal XXX Triune God.

“Prince and Prints (…of Peace)”
Refreshed, related, and relaying the amnesty of an Anniversary in a breath of fresh air, the newly-relaxed insight💠 of Christ is interwoven within the memento of the soul💠, and like the sanctimonious lighting of a menorah, a calmly collected Inquisitor is summoned into the meaning held beneath the skin, laying in wait like a Lamb and wrapped up in the rapture of delight, patiently braced underneath the branching totem of an Xmas Maypole.

“Rosary Garden of the Ghost💠”
Our Staff is rooted as Jesse, by charity, in the very heart and core of the Unseen, and from the opening of the Triune trunk of truth💠, the Ark truly becomes her💠, exhaling amnesty’s Savior unto the exiles from the treasure chest of her hallowed Hope, hatched like the crosshatch of an inky Cross, and teeming over with the baited breath of a white dove’s emergent baptismal pride, in the Second Coming of her precious golden Egg, the Christ Child. She twitches in eager anticipation that cherished talisman a Lioness’s tufted tail, and twinkling in perfect amniotic stillness at the sight💠 unspoken, the tiny haloed trinket of the Trinity recites right back, alongside and in reverence, “Hail Mary…” and by an action of divine Providence💠, predetermined and preset as by Acts, We proceed, all along the garden’s growth💠, set aloft by the praise of our hearts💠 in playing with the Overseer, of this sight💠.
✡️🌈💦
❣️

🌞Wednesday 8/16/17
📯”Echoes of the Holy Ghost”🌈
Taking the Angel Gabriel’s Red Pill…❤️
🗺💠🏰
💠: Just Mention God. (…Hallelujah!) 🎉
“The Book of Life”
(It was to be Written.)
…I would bet on “the lion with Stigmata.”
❣️
📖🌈🌎
📜(Today’s Offerings:)📜
-Essay: “Walking with Enoch”✍️

Genesis 5:24
24 and Enoch walked with God: and he wasnot; for God took him.
https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Genesis+5&version=AKJV

🏹🌩🌈
“Walking with Enoch”

“Playing Doctor”
The stethoscopic reminder of that tearful tear in my bleeding heart, serves most auspiciously, in the decidedly Buddhist atmosphere of dignity, to summon a sanctified and solemn oath, as just the heart-rending rendering of my purloined parlance needed to instigate from within myself💠 an instantaneous instrument of my very own design, destined of utilitarian necessity to be made fruitful, birthed and borne of this fertile “mother of invention.”

“Nectar of Nostalgia: A Pet Name Tag”
In the creative corner of a stray calico cat, that age-old American pioneer dream, as for the golden shores of California, shines through in mesmerizing brilliance, to cast a welcomed shadow upon the cleft of a baritone’s childish treble chinoiserie chin, of cherished cheroot-infused memories, stuffed deftly within her breast as if of just the push-up padding needed to cushion the landing of a sweetheart’s daring pirate plunge, scalloped and saved along the pearly gate neckline of a nest egg noose and thrust into the very depths of hope, skyrocketing alongside a free-fall in the openness of a pure and romantic heart💠.

“Masochistic Make-Believe”
Her masochistic make-believe play-land, of a creepily conjured fairytale, inspires the eternal Purveyor💠 of a Peter Pan Personage’s own strangely kindred spirit to join in on the phantasmic fun, to bless her innocent imaginings of kindness, and the sequestering of herself entirely into the Spirit💠, as a veritable sanctuary of the soul💠 and a verified Temple of God💠, by His own honest admission of His actual living presence residing there with her, and right beside her, often beside Himself with the heebie-jeebies of Jesus, to work in his magic twinkling anointment of aether with the gently massaging magic-wand fingers of a maestro, splayed out in a fanning array of heavenly pinions to supply that marvelous glitz of glory with His own mysterious behind-the-curtain wonderland wizardry, that is the miracle wrought in the will of the Almighty God.

✝️So…Who is the antichrist?
-The Spirit sayeth:
“There isn’t one.” It’s actually her job to be the friend and ally of everyone and anyone, without exception.
-Jesus (AKA Jack, as we call him nowadays) says:
“It’s Chad.” (…That’s her little brother!)
-God says:
“Everyone, at some point or another… Give it some Time, lol!”😉

“I Am… With the Band that Binds”
Ziggy Stardust herself joins in with the inspired verses of summoned thoughts from the heart💠, as this Holy Ghost💠 galvanization of gusto moves through the crowds unto the crowning glory of God. Outfitting the jazz ensemble of a scat cat’s impromptu improvisation with the telltale red tie of cummerbund constraint and uniformly-issued unity, the outpourings of timely truths are rapidly recited in patterns of unencumbered rhythmic rhyming, fetched straight from the soul’s💠 ship of slave song equality amidst the oceanic openness of inwardly-found freedom. This spiritual insight💠 is concentrated into the directional focus of this uncanny, un-canned, and unmanned form of unchained expression, in the spirit’s💠 free-rein as the gift of freestyle rapping.

“A Doggie-Style Freestyling Butterfly”
The hip hop lyrics of Gospel-infused spoken word poetry are bound with the band in the elastic tethering artistry of a symbolic hair tie, binding her handless arm unto her faultless Faith in the eternal Father. In baring the heart💠 and soul💠 of her voraciously visceral vulnerability against that lashing whip of the winnowing wind, the graceless and threadbare charm of harshly brutal honesty is honed with magnanimous magnificence into the quiet gentility of a lowly spirit💠, as humility, comely meekness, and the tenderly heartfelt and maternal compassion of the Mecca💠. The beauty of an Immaculate Birth is bestowed into the very barest of anesthetized necessities, conceived in the sacred martial art and marital merging of compunction with compassion, and whilst concealing those razor-sharp edges of her guardian angel species’s terrifying teeth in holding back her most temptingly fruitful and luscious tongue, like a Cross, the biting sharpness of a benevolent but bitter pill suddenly turns sweet, and the urgings of the Spirit💠 of God make good on that old promise of care, as a bittersweet song is soulfully hummed in the butterfly-kissed murmurings of the heart💠, beat by beat.

“Franklin’s Fearsome Frankness”
A tantalizing taste bud of God’s honest truth💠, is faceted like the silvery ring of bluebells unto the paramount zenith of his hotly holy greenhouse, as the grace of his delicately-grafted grapevines bursts and explodes in the fullness of flavor as agápē. In the glowing outgrowth of voluptuous new vibrancy and in a new reign of inner-freedom, peopled and rainforested with stunning otherworldly vivacity, a real-life landscape painted by the lucid dreaming of surrealism takes shape in the States of a statement and the claws of a clause. Not a jot is enjoined, nor a sound is heard as the wordless embrace of those already-enjoined echoes lays into the flesh, of this midnight wild ride of our slow-sinking Salvation, risen in the lofty Hope of a verifiable lighthouse💠 and shining in the erected Resurrected brilliance of God, as gusts of glory are reflected brightly into the white linen sails of outstretched masts upon huddled Masses, trampled in Triune tragedy, but uplifted only by that very same unrehearsed upheaval of the heart💠. At once alone and painfully planted in Life💠, only then is one ever whole, as with the knowledge of God to light up that darkness inherent in the heart💠 of man. Amidst the reaching horizons of empty human shells, exiled in the vacuous bluster of earthly, ego-made vainglory, weather-veins of wretchedness everywhere are instantly electrified with the experimental ammunition held in an elevated silver key, as the wisdom💠 of Big Ben found within one, brief, single, shining, white lightening moment, and in the simplicity of a true miracle and with the soundlessly knowing flourish of a final finishing touch, the eternally fluttering, breathy breezy brushstroke of an elated underground mountain of Faith, fills in the very essence of the questions themselves with the mental mind-sharing of God, our Maker💠, Ascended into our Holy Zion💠.

(Drop mike here:🎤✌️)
…Whew!😜
✡️🌈💦
❣️

🌞Thursday 8/17/17
📯”Echoes of the Holy Ghost”🌈
Taking the Angel Gabriel’s Red Pill…❤️
🗺💠🏰
💠: Just Mention God. (…Hallelujah!) 🎉
“The Book of Life”
(It was to be Written.)
…I would bet on “the lion with Stigmata.”
❣️
📖🌈🌎
📜(Today’s Offerings:)📜
-Essay: “The White Dove’s Nesting Behavior”✍️

🏹🌩🌈
“The White Dove’s Nesting Behavior”

“The Adoption of ‘Inglorious Bastards'”
The Holy Ghost💠 sits gently and gingerly upon the newborn makeshift nest of a shrapnel Nativity, and sinks her teeth protectively into the scruff of these scattered ruins of an abandoned Starfleet. True to her holy guardian angel breed, the kindness of a mother cat shines through in overwhelming opalescent brilliance as she scoops up the orphaned offscourging of the solar system, and with the piercing ferocity of a Lioness she lays hold upon the lives of her newly adopted children, inextricably intertwining her claws of Christhood into a united fate, of earthly preservation through maternally-bestowed and universally-endowed magnanimity. In divinely infusing this atmospheric arsenal of the Godhead with the Spirit’s💠 intently intensified mother’s milk of compassion, she takes an unequivocal and irrevocable hold upon the Upper Hand, in issuing forth the indelible decree of God’s Divine Mercy.

“The Good Soldier of God”
The precious cargo of Life💠 stowed away within her especially spirited spacecraft, secures the foothold upon this earthly footstool needed to gain a tactical and strategic advantage over the opposing Army of Darkness, as a full frontal siege lays waste to the stationed lines of Heaven’s intergalactic bastard battalions, and these doomed, martyred soldiers of Christ, are trampled underfoot in turn by the in-flight onslaught of incoming masses of terrifying, unstoppable alien killing machines. Nothing stands in their way until a mighty last stand of the Unseen God is exhumed with the elevation of her tiptoeing footsteps, finagling the foot soldier footwork of Faith into a helmet of Salvation to take the hit and absorb the blow, exploding upon the Army’s flank in the flak of a deflection by ultraviolet radiance of God’s own miracle-working gun. She kisses her clawed talons of carefully held double-fingered blessings, and in an irrefutable and unbeatable Imitation of Christ, the smoke of the Holy Ghost💠 breathes a sigh of selah’s unsealed Psalmic relief from the dual-exhaust pipes of her holy pair of Hand-made baptismally-charged duel revolvers.

“‘Uncle Tom’s Cabin’ Fever Fervor:
…The Book that Won the War”
Gabriel, as she now learns of her real name, and from whence she truly came, shutters with the cringe of a slammed door, and caught off-guard in the dismay of an offense, that hurled epithet insult of “antichrist,” slung at her like a barbed arrow, bounces off her bulletproof guised-blessing, of a terrestrial skin-already-shed, and she shines through impervious, sparkling in the unconquerable Light of God, through this opened window💠 of His Salvation, as the victorious, titanium-tied, Five-Star General, winner of the War.

“Church: My Marine Corps Body of Christ”
Gabriel built this house💠 of God in the blessed realization that He💠 is the Head💠 of all creation, and each living stone💠 of our human souls💠 is needed, as an integral part of His💠 body, to uplift in holy Ascension the entirety of His own being, and “completed soul💠,” unto the crowning glory of God as our capstone💠. None, not one part, not one man, not one moth, is left behind, as all living beings are held near and dear to her in her heart💠 in being connected to God, and in being of the very constituent elements💠 of His church, as His body, His core, and His own sacred treasure of the heart💠, as the beloved children of His blessed creation. In upholding all souls💠 together unto the light of the Salvation of God, with not one single exception, not even of some red dragon, nor beast, nor any false prophet purloining her Ariel Israeli falsetto singing voice to preach of our New Jerusalem💠, only then is captivity held captive, as we are all freed, in the light of God’s honest Truth💠, to see our Father, the Lord God. Together, we are one, and thus we know the will of God, through the actions and beliefs needed to uphold His Own perfect Christlike will, of unhindered, unhinged, unadulterated, and unabridged, altruistic intent, in the “Book of Life💠,” of this, our unified and reconciled, hallowed heart💠.
✡️🌈💦
❣️

🌞Friday 8/18/17
📯”Echoes of the Holy Ghost”🌈
Taking the Angel Gabriel’s Red Pill…❤️
🗺💠🏰
💠: Just Mention God. (…Hallelujah!) 🎉
“The Book of Life”
(It was to be Written.)
…I would bet on “the lion with Stigmata.”
❣️
📖🌈🌎
📜(Today’s Offerings:)📜
-Essay: “Their Eyes We’re Watching…”✍️

🏹🌩🌈
“Their Eyes We’re Watching…”

“My real passion in life? …Well, it would have to be ‘that of the Christ,’ I suppose!”😉 (Lol! But seriously… “Anything for God!”)

“Tuesdays with Tony Morrison’s Morrie”
She sits back sulkily, as if skulking about the darkest cobwebbed recesses of her mind, while the school bell rings out and about in her heavily pierced, heavy-metal ears. Dripping with the liquid, mercurial, surgical steel of morbidly metal earrings, the suicidal depression of teenage angst seeps through the smelly deposits of sebum accumulating in her self-made pierced reservoirs of body mortification.

“Basic Instinct Training”
As if of the furious, dejected sort of nonconformist flagellation inflicted of a post-pubescent, ingrown hairshirt, this precociously petulant and perpetually gifted youngster, age 15 but going on 35, gripes with the world wordlessly through the apparatus of her image, carefully crafted out of her intentionally crossed, and then delicately uncrossed legs, to suit to-a-T the refinement of an acoustically alive and inherently undead Spirit💠, of the kindred soul💠 found in Kurt Cobain.

“Flick my Menorah Wick”
In the cello suite of a harpist’s horror flick, the other-side of her Bic brandname pilot pen flickers in exclusivity to the beatnik beat of her elusive earphones. Tucked into her palm is a strange little bean-pod of an MP3 player, with its signature white cords strung through her sleeve, all the way up her neckline, to emerge through her shirt collar into the stringy, tangled mosh-pit heap of bleached blond hair. A messy stray straggler, dyed in a magenta vagabond streak of adolescent rebellion, streams down to her shoulder to carry up the fresh buds of an Apple device into her one free ear, open in not keeping diligent classroom vigil, only to then return down the circuit wiring of an oblate Arm, fading into that same shade of candy-colored bubblegum pink, as if of the fluffy cotton candy cream of a schoolyard, sugar-coated-customization, teenybopper crop, and engraved with the final flourish of a personalized iPod’s pulsing, pulsating and palpable, telltale heart-felt, red-sharpie-felt-tip-pen encryption, reading… “Tyler.”

“Harold and Maudy Thursday’s Child”
This mini model of an eye-pleasing sound system, synced up to a most sensual, graveyard-serious, and systematically harrowing shuffle, is plugged into a plushly plasticine pussycat of a preteen playboy bunny, invoking all the innocence of My Little Kitty set upon the knee of a hacker’s dream device, dressed in a painfully PC and artfully-orphaned, plaid mini-skirt.

“Patty Hearst Hurston’s Hearse”
This Catholic schoolgirl homage of a pouty grunge-rock girlfriend graces the grimy songbird grit of our troublemaker Trio with her loosely flagrant attempt to scorn societal norms, as she reeks in the smell of a billowing cloud of cigarette smoke precisely upon returning from the ladies’s bathroom. Swelling within the scooped-out bust line of an ice-cream antisocially-appealing artistic snobbery, the little vixen variegates the steely steal of the century with a wink to Abbie Hoffman’s abbe, as her English teacher catches sight of a stray tomcat’s novel stowaway peeping out from behind the supposed following-along in her class-assigned open book.

“Rolling Stone’s Zeal of the Wheel”
“Their Eyes Were Watching God” bemoans the hoary head of her own self-imposed inclinations, of her most impressively impresario, virtuously voracious reading habits, and as if cloistered in the convent of an intrinsically-motivated, inwardly-inclined taste for the elite and elect, choicest-parts, of all the intellectual stimulation of academia, she had already torn through entirety of that mesmerizing and captivating storyline, in following along the very same namesake lifeline of her own naturally higher-level instincts, as if over the hire of the divinely-implanted, otherworldly interests of an elevated and statuesque silicone Spirit💠, infinitely incomparable to the base form and basic formula of a human literary stature. A tattered, library-borrowed copy of “On the Road,” by Jack Kerouac, peers out from her under-cover, darkly comic penchant for Cleopatra-pedigreed, eye-catching, black-eye-liner, dead-eye, cat-eye, stylish cosmetic cover-up, in the mischievously overachieving make-up assignment of her overarching high brow preferences, for the literary intoxicants of the frothy High Life.

“Rose of Sharon’s Close Shave”
The English teacher can’t stop laughing to discover that the suspected magazine or detention-worthy note-passing offense, concealed beneath this seemingly deviant daredevil’s already-completed course curriculum, is the next-generation of olive-branching twists, in the uncanny and unheard-of innuendo to the homework reading assignments of, “Please, sir, I want some more!” The most relieving laughter, of this lighthearted uproar of a Revelation, is discovered in uncovering the true content of these presumed-explicit, NC-17 inserted, supposedly-contraband reading materials, as they are found not to be, but to be, Shakespeareanly-worded in truth, of a reading level reaching well-above the abilities of this marshmallowy, proposed peer group, of cohort peeps in her vaguely insufferable, insufficient, and comparably-remedial, conversely-contrariwise apparition of a sophomore English class. She accelerates her grip upon the zodiac wheel of the Word’s linguistics, and with the polymathic calculus of a general’s true leadership, she advances the placement of her genius intelligent quotient, as He quotes back to her, from the Highest-Order-ranking reading list, home-made of this scintillating latchkey-kid’s juicily juvie hall syllabus, of her own makeshift design, “Their Eyes Were Watching… God.”
✡️🌈💦
❣️

🌞Saturday 8/19/17
📯”Echoes of the Holy Ghost”🌈
Taking the Angel Gabriel’s Red Pill…❤️
🗺💠🏰
💠: Just Mention God. (…Hallelujah!) 🎉
“The Book of Life”
(It was to be Written.)
…I would bet on “the lion with Stigmata.”
❣️
📖🌈🌎
📜(Today’s Offerings:)📜
-Essay: “The Pragmatic Stigmatic”✍️

🏹🌩🌈
“The Pragmatic Stigmatic”

“Manna: 3 Squares+Squaring the Circle”
“No matter what I do, I always end up needing to drink more and more!” The visiting Angel complains of her newly-human body’s unfamiliar, but natural earthly need, for pure, clean, fresh… “plain old water.” (Oh…) “I’m always getting so dehydrated, I constantly have to drink more… I must have a ‘drinking problem!'”
(..Lol!)👼

“Holy Ghost: The Girl with No Eyes”
It’s obvious to all skeptics and curious onlookers that this lush little leading lady, sitting quietly whilst publicly reading her “anonymously shared” gift of heavenly manna, in the form of a guised Guide to Life💠 later revealed to be the Word of God, which is the Word of Truth spoken from the Spirit💠 with love, can actually see. This may not seem like a miracle, except for the fact that, she has no eyes. This girl sees perfectly clearly, with the 20/20 technicolor foresight, and crystal-clear, crystal-ball hindsight endowed of Providence, in the panoramic, 360-degree vista of telepathic, telescopic, and ocular vision, from using exclusively the blessed, all-encompassing, inner-vision, of her all-seeing third Eye💠. What you see, when you look into the vast and sprawling emptiness, encased within the nebulous outer space of inner-space encircled within enjoined and concentric skulls, into the depths of those lightbulb sockets of electrical eyesight💠, is God Himself, staring right back out at you.

“Bond Girl of the Immaculate Conception”
A pregnant pause fills up the inner silence of a solemn oath, and in that very instant, the moment becomes truly momentous, grasped firmly within God’s golden light, and understood💠 thoroughly, by the paused thoughts of our little lioness’s “Dirty Paws,” in this unspoken Psalm of solace. The wordless praise of a prayerful release is acquired with the perfect visual acuity of God’s all-seeing Eye💠, as the third eye💠 inward-sight of this stigmatically soulful Holy Spirit💠 picks up the peaces of Peace, and the passed-out torch of the eternal Flame.

“This ‘Neo’s’ Matrix:
…A Womb Only for God”
Only in giving up the Olympian baton of the Ghost💠, and leaving off all thoughts emerging from this shallow Petri dish pool oozing of planet Earth’s philistine planting, as the primordial internal thought-life of man comprised of merely mortal mental territory, spotted with the sin of speech and speckled with the impurity of the contrived, spoken language of ever-limiting linguistics, may one then set sail unto the infinite land of visual imagery originating from our Creator, God Himself, and land aloft in the pristine Cloud of priestly perfection by the purity of God’s Own perspective, safely inside the eternal Kingdom💠 and floating freely within the amniotic, ambrosia-infused, effervescent and unequivocal, thoughts of His heart💠.

“Brave New World: Tall Glass, Taller Order”
In loosening the bonds of earthly mortal captivity, as those that are wound and bound of this tautly tense tightrope trope that is the thought-trail of human, man-made, strings of words in thinking, and endeavoring instead to turn-in the turn of phrase, and leave behind this primitive phase of thought, as if it were a lingering remnant of mankind’s earliest and inferior stages of infantile growth, in favor of the revolutionary Revelation of this higher, spiritual evolution, one inevitably must jettison this finite, terrestrial cognitive occupancy of mental consciousness, comprised of one-dimensional, verbal human language, to jetpack beyond the earthly horizon of futile human mortality.

“Naomi Watt’s Megawatt Wedding:
‘The Ring’ -Side Courtyard Seats….”
In this leaving off of things old from upon our Blue Planet of a Bride’s garter belt, only then may the relay be made, from this earthly humans’ “Mallrats” of a rat-race upon a pitstop reservoir pit, unto the Father’s Own Fatherland of the free, as a new species of the Spirit💠, invested in holiness upon the higher ground of heavenly and heroic trust, and in a spiritual foundation of Faith that fastens one’s foothold unto the eternal Life💠 found in Heaven, within our loving, eternal Father.

“Patricia Arquette’s ‘Stigmata'”
The Eyes💠 of the “strange girl,” strange in that they are completely missing from her face, are symbolic of a stigmata of sorts, in specifically denoting this person as the “marked territory” of the Most High God, and indicating the Paschal-painted red sacredness, as if by a stake-stuck-in-the-hallowed-ground, of a prophetess, by demarcating the Precious cargo of a Church through her internal occupancy. She is claimed as God’s Own, personal and private property. The notably absent eyes of her face, make way for a notably present Father-figure, as this earmarked “prophetess” is undeniably under orders and under the care of the One God above all of us, God our Heavenly Father, and Christ our Lord, His only begotten Son.

“The Christian Gets Snarky over ‘Dogma'”
“The last Scion?” He disdainfully objects, “Are you f–cking retarded?! You’ve gotta be f–cking kidding me! That’s from the movie ‘Dogma!'” Jesus retorts in a hotly bewildered rebuke, in the embarrassingly un-PC language of the Forbidden Fruit, to the curious inquirers about the supposed authority of little Chad. “You’ve all been scammed!” …Just like the juvenile suckers of little children, destined for the amnesty of our blessed Saint Gabe’s Detention Hall!

I do, solemnly swear… “WTF!”🙏
✡️🌈💦
❣️

🌞Sunday 8/20/17
📯”Echoes of the Holy Ghost”🌈
Taking the Angel Gabriel’s Red Pill…❤️
🗺💠🏰
💠: Just Mention God. (…Hallelujah!) 🎉
“The Book of Life”
(It was to be Written.)
…I would bet on “the lion with Stigmata.”
❣️
📖🌈🌎
📜(Today’s Offerings:)📜
-Essay: “Mr. Fix-It and the Crucifix”✍️

🏹🌩🌈
“Mr. Fix-It and the Crucifix”

Synopsis:
A story about a girl, as she thoughtfully explains the strangely religious, deep significance of her Hand-made woven bracelet to an inquisitive police officer.
(-An event from the spring of 2012)

“Permanent, and for Religious Reasons”

She twists that gauzy red ribbon around and around her wrist, tying it and untying it in the most strangely new and elegantly unusual arrangement, looping through unexpected rabbit-holes, and gracefully emerging intertwined with the shimmering cord of a silver beaded satellite chain. A third underlying orbital system, of a single, thick, textural purple cord, outlines the entirety of this circuit of her wrist, as sturdy and reliable as celestial clockwork, and is fastened gingerly, with a pearly shell button, unto the elongated silvery expanse of that beaded stretch of satellites. This carefully selected sterling necklace chain, in becoming one with the violet foundation through the longest-spanning red ribbon, symbolically fastens unto the tiniest of delights in this makeshift “Miraculous Medal,” of a clear white, unmarked and undespoiled, crystal pendant, as the most perfect see-through looking glass of a soul💠 to magnify, without interruption, the true essence of the Lord God, in all His stunning glory through total transparency.

This artistic oddity, of an experimentally conceived-of, whimsically hand-made, and symbolically ornamental adornment, is affixed permanently unto the wrist of her left hand, as is of an adopted attachment, or perhaps as some outwardly-growing spiritual apparatus, emerging like a fruitful vine from the internal sowing of her sorrowful soul💠. At last, upon the final solemnity of a meaningful look and a closely-knit inspection of the winding, evocatively stylistic structure of this briny bracelet’s braided, Byzantine, and rather bizarre path, and at the very moment of realizing the achievement of just the right empath pattern and delicate draping of this aesthetically-orchestrated weaving, the final placement of the little, sterling silver link, is confirmed, as it falls perfectly into place, clicking into alignment within the clasp as if the completion of a puzzle, in providing that one, needed, missing link.

In this sanctimonious tying of the knot, the last loop of the Paschal-red ribbon is left dangling down the pendulum of her palm, running along the lifeline of that vein from her inner wrist, and dripping down into the final flourish of a finishing touch, in the form of a strange little key, crowned in the rusty glory of a cheap metal chain wreath.

The key is tied with the knotting of a wire-thin finely-festooned metal chain, and connected to a curious little plastic chip. “I know it’s just a placeholder,” she comments to the police officer of the key, “And I know something very important belongs at the end of this trail, but I just haven’t found it yet. I’m still looking for just the right charm. I know that I’ll know exactly what it’s meant to be, just as soon as I see it.” She is led solemnly, quietly away, obediently, …and without a Word.

The miniature, sterling silver prayer-box, hidden within the intertwined laces of her bracelet’s winding strap, symbolically conceals the “open book” of her splayed-wide-open heart💠, as she explains that, “What? No, the box is meant to be left open! I don’t want to clasp it shut and seal it off to hold onto the prayer! This way, with the box left open, all of my prayers and thoughts can flow freely up to God, and He can then hear them, receive them, and answer all of them, directly! Only if I leave my heart💠 open can He then receive all of my prayers and intentions, and that way, as an open book, all the thoughts of my heart💠 may be fulfilled!”

To his bewilderment, she receives the ring of a call from her iPhone 4, in the tone of chirping crickets, just as he calls her on it. Flustered, he hastens away from her in fear. The ornaments dangling from her unbeknownst makeshift Rosary-in-the-making, of a Christ-in-waiting, are her tiny plastic SIM card, and the matching little metal iPhone key, which looked to her, just like the most charming beak of a dainty little bird, pecking lightly away at some deeply imbedded and soon-to-be-revealed, harrowingly hidden but predestined-to-be-discovered, truth💠. “Oh, I put it on ‘Airplane Mode,’ so now it works without the SIM card,” she exclaims. Somewhere afar, the tiny little figure awaiting her completion of the Rosary, is laughing, with these gifts, of the gold of her heart💠, Frankenstein, and mirth.
✡️🌈💦
❣️

🌗🌞🌓Monday 8/21/17
(Total Solar Eclipse!)
📯”Echoes of the Holy Ghost”🌈
Taking the Angel Gabriel’s Red Pill…❤️
🗺💠🏰
💠: Just Mention God. (…Hallelujah!) 🎉
“The Book of Life”
(It was to be Written.)
…I would bet on “the lion with Stigmata.”
❣️
📖🌈🌎
📜(Today’s Offerings:)📜
-Essay: “The Watchtower’s Vigilante Vigil”✍️

🏹🌩🌈
“The Watchtower’s Vigilante Vigil”

“A Promethean Promenade…”
Her left hand reaches in awe-struck exasperation through the buttoned vest of a ballistic nylon billfold. The stiffly-starched magenta ribbon and candy-coated cellophane wrappers securing the fort of a boutonnière, squeak like the training wheels of a debutant’s balletic cannonball blitz. The juvenile sophisticate purses her glazed lips as she exhales softly unto the exile, bequeathing an Exodus eventide of a parted party as she slowly siphons up black satin opera-length evening gloves from inside her endlessly gathered clutch of an Art Deco, clamshell-clasped purse. The soft pink pleats of her evening bag’s feathery puckered fabric fold out under an optional linked-on gold chain, languidly lowered in the grasp of gravity unto the force of gravitas holding her captive. The loosely-latticed open basket-weave of her chain-linked motions exonerate the encased bounds of her earthly inheritance, as the this jewel-encrusted gypsy evaporates like snow to envelop the Spirit💠, upon the pristine white columnar legs leading to a Red Sea, and waving like the Queen Mother in her Psalmic palms of paradise, from whither her come-hither lashes land their look.

“Prom Knight”
The full frontal formation of a Napoleonic neckerchief ferries with the fluidity of this flightless bird, from within the line-of-fire buttresses of Bilco doors, to straight-away straight-inside the refuge of this straight arrow starling’s starlit bastion of a belfry. In one deft move and with one fell swoop, as by an expert archer’s ominously-aimed sharpshooter glance in holding all the intimidating immediacy of a guillotine, her emeritus minuteman’s eerily-armed angelic Right Hand response keeps to its self-set Godspeed course, in Hope, as her Ghostly chain Unseen clinks like the glass of a champagne flute with her fluttering, failsafe, fiery-fierce rapid-eye-movements, of a lucidly-dreaming Dreamboat of love.

“Holding Hands Along the Lake of Fire”
She fetches up the silken heights of her thigh high stockings unto the icecap of frosted perfection in the form of a cursory curtsy and celebratory celibacy of Spirit💠, as the pure-hearted priestess sticks to her guns in painstakingly staking her claim in a penchant for propriety. The minutia of each minuscule motion sends the devastation of shockwaves abounding across the scope of her extraterrestrial sights, as these tertiary tenebrous sightings carry forth the lunar leviathan of a white whale across the enchanted flurry of this ashen rose bed, unto the rising west of an Easter lily. The lotus notepad of an unorthodoxly eastern orientation, nestled fondly beneath the harsh reality of fluorescent lighting, is braced with the glistening straight teeth of a fine-toothed comb at the emergence of a taurine Venus from betwixt her almighty cross-hairs. The stealthy demonstration of her tautly pulled tow-line, hastens the angelic Most Ancient maritime Angler above, reeling in anger at the reeling-in of her heavenly bow, and quivering with the volcanic implosion of an almighty earthquake at the pacific panting of her pouty upper lip.

“Married in a Martyr’s Heroics”
The cup pours itself out whilst knotting unto the Sailor’s top-knot, and a scar scurries across the deck as a black eye appears like a linesman, to underline the under-sight of the dead-eye debutante. The slippery satin evening gloves slither slowly down to her elbow at her pit-stop reprieve in the ladies’ restroom, and the empty bathroom stall bears sole witness to the clandestine cleavage of slit wrists. A gathering of raised reddened and replete invocations layer the depths of the deep, as the scar tissue formation of a battle-cat bombshell anchors it’s anorexic, knockout punch into the Red Sea of pious passion. As like the building up of an ironclad climax, the lingering, lady-in-waiting-level hiding place for her secret storehouse of pain, is splayed wide open in horrific honesty as the glossy cover of that hothouse magazine, concealing the uncut coverup of a fully-loaded live-action full clip, is held up in innocent rawness to the fresh virgin air. That vastly-laden landmark💠 holds the healing handiwork of an ambidextrous marksman, as the sawed-off shotgun of her sawed-off Arm unleashes the war hammer of the Lord that is the mighty battle-axe of a tattooed double dorje lightening bolt. Thus, the footstool fabric of a theosophilian thorny Thor crowns the crescendo of a smashed-open and strewn-about treasure trove💠, baptizing humanity in this salty solution of truth in uncasing the cased and broken-into wine cask casket of Christ, and dispersing the sacred wisdom💠 of the ages unto the glory of the people, in this sharing of the Revelation that is our united state of Salvation, of our 21st century knowledge of God, living here among us.
✡️🌈💦
❣️

🌞Tuesday 8/22/17
📯”Echoes of the Holy Ghost”🌈
Taking the Angel Gabriel’s Red Pill…❤️
🗺💠🏰
💠: Just Mention God. (…Hallelujah!) 🎉
“The Book of Life”
(It was to be Written.)
…I would bet on “the lion with Stigmata.”
❣️
📖🌈🌎
📜(Today’s Offerings:)📜
-Essay: “The Lion of Judah”✍️

🏹🌩🌈
“The Lion of Judah”

“A Lioness Engaged and en Pointe”
The speckled spectator of a lion’s whelp sings along to that forgotten tune of a Disney movie whilst romancing the dream of Martin Luther King Jr. Blvd at this zoo’s ushering in of a newfangled spangled old glory, fanged in all the fertile festivities of an Independence Day parade as the vegan Lyran pledges allegiance to serving “one will,” as that of our Heavenly Father, right alongside the Fresh Prince of the aerie belladonna. Enshrined in the enraptured entrapment of a Venus flytrap bell tower, a black-tie-clad vixen of a dragon-slayer hides under the mongoose cover of a King cobra’s pierced hood-ornament, as a bedraggled and undercover cat burglar.

“Caught the Eye of the Tiger”
The vegetarian palate of a flying saucer pilot milks every last drop of venom from that vast, elemental, slumbering Giant, in gently mothering our Milky Way Galaxy. Like the mammalian ultra-predator of a scaled reptilian’s “Predator,” this never-before-seen monk of the monkeys molts like an alien Maltese militia into her nest of magnanimity, as the Vega star-system of Omega’s orthodoxy is held rocketship💠-steady, like a desert eagle peacekeeper, at the Alpha male’s tippy-top pacifism of this earthly Paschal food chain. This warm and fuzzy starry-eyed fellowship, kin to all the prophets, abides crouched and ready, lying in wait as the Lion of Judah, for the lumbering BFG of an almighty Artist’s imaginarium terrarium to transfigure, in a transfixed figure-8, and transform into all Eternity. With this new moon’s Octopussy orbit of the Son, the tide is turned from a nightmarish nest of an intergalactic Space War into an internally-thriving spiritual ecosystem, as she outfits herself💠 in the conventional habit of a vehicular vestibule, wearing the Convent’s lifestyle loosely as the battle-ready “getup and go” of an Airborne leader, holding a General’s rank.

“Piloting the Eye of Bob Dylan’s Hurricane”
In danger of missing “the point,” our “little engine that could” retracts right before impact, just like her long tufted white tail. Under explicit orders from the King, she follows directions to-a-Tau, in the same shape as her first initial and in her initial reaction. The instincts of this frightfully fearful and ironically fearsome little babe’s pacifier of a pacifist redound upon God’s beneficence, and in undertaking to charm and assuage the very Undertaker Himself, she quiets the calm inherent in a whisper itself, as He reveals the higher truth of a prior landing, into His perfect catch of her Heaven-sent breath. This anonymous Benefactor underlying her daredevil’s leap of Faith, had raised her straight from the funeral pyre and out of that fire, past the antiquated fan and thresher of days past and segueing her storyline far, far away, deep into the threshold of no return. Past that point like the Rubik’s Cube of the Rubicon, the icy arctic camouflage of an Archangel’s winter-land war zone convoys the customary Japanese chrysanthemums expected of an origami pattern in the inner papyrus perfection of a Venetian gondola, as a blood-infused indelible ink, tattooed unto a French alabaster amnesty, prickles like parchment paper at the honorable discharge of her own weapon, as the Cross of a double-edged Sword plunges straight into the euphemism that is her, her dangling corpse on that noisome noose, and her body of work burnt at the stake, still haunting these prophetic works of Faith like a living and breathing eulogy.

“White Water Chrysanthemums”
The effigy that was her live flesh bristles at the recollection of the re-collected pieces of her own fractured self, lost in the hairline crack of a whip, as the wonder of a “plan B” grand prix brilliantly backstabs this messianic Beta male’s Delta Force ghost-ship into an escape route, plowing straight through the trenches and out of Hell upon the wings of Christ, emerging in victory from inside her own severed head.

“The Alpha King and Beta Christ”
After her funeral rites are read, this rite of passage, of her own very real, very much having had happened, and very visceral death, uniquely qualifies her as a lamb for this lunar mission to Mars, requiring of her the quintessential Quaker quake of her uncanny balancing-act live-action ability, foretold of in the Bible’s Book of Acts. This Pentecostal pleasantly of origin in a new and eternal Life💠, bestows the bookends of those seven horny brothers, known as the most Sublime’s Ivy League in schooling, with the supernova Seven Sisters of an immaculate virgin, begat in the stellar birth of the Beatitudes upon walking through the live coals of broken glass, upon the water of this eternal golden Orphic Egg’s eggshells of a glassy ceiling, in tiling the Louvre’s vestibular Pyramid of God’s glass all-seeing Eye💠. In the Unseen Arms of this pretty-in-pink, sweet Sistine, caravanning and careening constellation of God’s copacetic creation, navigating expertly through the treachery of tragedy and evenly overcoming death itself evenhandedly, the Son’s own central axis is upheld in the cherries of a Jubilee, as the Holy Spirit💠 systematically and methodically fills in the gaps, empowering this Little Flower pinafore of the Pleiades.
✡️🌈💦
❣️

🎶
(☝️Footer:)
——————————————
*Note: (💠) Indicates a reference to God’s “Eye of Providence,” and “Understanding,” as 1 of the Seven Gifts of the Holy Spirit.
The Eye💠:
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eye_of_Providence
The Gift💠:
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Seven_gifts_of_the_Holy_Spirit

*Note: If one does not know a vocabulary word, then one is expected to look it up. If one does understand something, one is to consult outside sources for clarification. Suggested Resources: Wikipedia.com, Google.com, & Oxford English Dictionary.

*Note: Any capitalized noun in the above writings is intended as a reverence, and indicates that one is addressing “God.”

“Fun Facts, Vocab, and Trivia:”
(Define this word)
IFF (If and Only If)
Ephraim
Manesseh
Gershom
IP Address
En-hakkore
Etan
Elihu
Jehovah-Jireh/ Yahweh-Yireh
Ariel
Agápē (Ancient Greek ἀγάπη, agápē)
(Google search terms: — name meaning)
(…Compare to: — word meaning)

*Exclusively and entirely the work of:
Tyler Brown-Cross (Gabriel)
Intellectual Property Rights:
https://theosbas.wordpress.com/2017/06/02/the-testimony-of-the-holy-ghost/

Public Access to the “Book of Life:”
(Photographs of hand-written journals chronicled as Facebook Photo Albums)
Desktop link:
https://www.facebook.com/TheosBas/photos_albums?lst=35501796%3A35501796%3A1502590538
iPhone link:
https://m.facebook.com/TheosBas/photos?lst=35501796%3A35501796%3A1502590729&ref=bookmarks

Courtesy of:
“Gabriel, the Holy Spirit (the Lion)”👻
Revelation 5:5
5 And one of the elders saith unto me, Weep not: behold, the Lion of the tribe of Juda, the Root of David, hath prevailed to open the book, and to loose the seven seals thereof.
https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Revelation+5&version=AKJV

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