Cross built into the red rock hillside.
The red blood of Christ implied
in what was once clearly an ocean floor.
Long before humanity was even possible.
The notion that Earth is six thousand years old
is like saying the sun is a hot balloon.
Why does Christianity need to make natural history its victim?
Chapel of the Holy Cross built in 1956. Inspired and commissioned by rancher and sculptor, Marguerite Brunswig Staude. Design executed by architect August K. Strotz.
On the site of one of the Sedona vortices.
It’s raining diamonds on Neptune.
In the deep blue hydrocarbon seas.
Strangely beautiful and completely devoid of life.
Here on Earth we have a deluge of water.
Inconvenient, but more valuable in a million ways.
The queen of diamonds represents two diverging paths.
Which will be ours?
Preserving our treasure or
drowning in inorganic riches?
It’s a big time money deal.
So they play the race bait.
To get the cash come rainin’ down.
They cyncially market with the color animus.
It’s the Irish boy’s brain,
they don’t give a rat’s ass about.
The head trauma pays.
The race drama plays.
They’ll have few years before
the hand shakes start.
I may have seen
through the fabric of the universe.
On the day of the solar eclipse,
I sat in meditation and felt
the metallic yin.
The moon cold and decisive as Ulysses’ sword.
It was the approaching night
that I would, thankfully, only witness.
But I saw it,
like a spectator in the coliseum,
the steel grey blades
that killed the gladiators.
63 words, I am forever free from 55. Now, it’s about how ever many words I need to say what it is I have to say.
When there is hatred in your heart,
you are easily manipulated.
The resentment and rage makes you easy prey.
And peace or contentment will elude you
because there is always something or someone else
who is responsible for your lot.
Only love and owning up to it
will bring you what you say you want.
God is the master of random.
He plays it like a cheap suit chess player.
And he is the ultimate in thinking many moves ahead.
God thinks, like, a million moves ahead.
In fact, he’s already thought of the move
that will bring us back to the beginning.
And, he’s already made it.
What if Jack were sitting
in the middle of an answered prayer…
But he was too preoccupied
with everything to realize it?
And what if, instead…
He stopped and took inventory
of all the things that had come to him
in spite of his desire
to see otherwise?
He might already have
everything he needs.
She lived in a shoe.
This made us strongly suspect that something was wrong.
So many children she didn’t know what to do.
Why? No Planned Parenthood?
Gave them broth without bread.
Gluten free bone broth, no doubt.
And whipped them soundly and put them to bed.
She probably had a thyroid condition.
Why did the chicken cross the Möbius strip?
To get to the other side.
Same reason he crossed the road.
There’s only so many ways you can answer the important questions.
Another equally important question is:
How much smack could a woodchuck talk if a woodchuck could talk smack?
I mean, inquiring minds must know.
There’s a much dirtier version of this story. Bit I spared you because you don’t need your minds filled with more filth. 😉