Spiritualities

our beloved one

http://www.regalrena.com

~~~

I met a woman

she wasn’t there

not even air

words & pictures made of light

~

She was

what I have come

to behold

a spirituality

~

Alas, our fingertips danced

oceans apart

something was there

besides air

~

Words bounced around

balls of silly putty

‘tween us & then poof!

she was gone

~

She had a whip

and a smile

to employ

in a dark place

~

But I saw something

completely different

in the lady’s

smiley face

~

T’was

an

angel

a spirituality

~

These pictures

they’re made to steal

with a click

do with them what you wish

~

But there are consequences

yes, she’s here, she’s gone

touched yet untouched

an internet spirituality

~

Beautiful warm

so vibrant & real

hair flowing, shoulders with

a smooth firm curve

~

Eyes of color of soul

make my heart glow

make my words bounce

across the sea

~

Silly

putty

spirit-

uality!

~

Another woman come along

smoothly chirping

a bubbly brook

a fluttering floating song

~

For what is she looking?

fingertips deftly dive into my pocket to find

the prayer of a tramp

a coin-less hole

~

An exquisitely well mannered dove

she too welds a whip

but it’s for me to use on her

I won’t, I can’t!

~

Click

whoa!

I find pictures more pictures

pictures galore

~

She’s born-again gorgeous

has no whip

nor

is she a whore

~

She’s simply there

dressed up & dressed down

in a thousand dresses

for any old horn-dog clown

~

She

is

Catholic

as can be

~

And I am

old

poor

yet free

~

Beloved spiritualities

flitting in & out of

my eye ~ how can I

not love you?

~

Love ~ is it

really there, really here

made not of brick

made not of air?

~

from Rawclyde!

~~~

palace restaurant prescott

http://www.historicpalace.com

~~~

Quite a gal…

courtesy of Evelina Galli 2

~~~

GUN 2013

Chapter 7

~~~

Submissivania Whapp, it turns out, is not only a pretty woman.  She’s become an accomplished pony rider over the years in a secret canyon of the urban sprawl of Los Angeles.  And she’s become the best-selling author of the world’s most sought after erotica in the late-night glow of her bedroom computer.  And she’s a top-gun corporate executive on week days.  And she’s the youngest of the White House’s favorite secret agents ~ 24 years old.  And she hasn’t moved out of her parent’s sprawling suburban-ranch home yet.

Ms. Whapp lets go these autobiographicals as she massages my neck & shoulders.  This massaging endeavor of hers causes me to swiftly recover from my swoons.  Now her close proximity is elevating me to a clairvoyant height I’ve never obtained before in a Greyhound bus seat.  Her flowery scent, her warm breath, the congenial display of valley and hillock within licking distance lifts my consciousness out of a muck that it’s been languishing in for I don’t know how many years.  The clairvoyance I’m experiencing is startling.  I actually witness angels grouped around the exterior of the bus protecting it from traffic accidents as it speeds along the highway.  My religiousity soars as Ms. Whapp’s hands, saintly lampoons, knead all cares and worries out of my teetering over-the-hill body.  I’m an ecstatic old timer ~ downright near experiencing levitation.

We roll past stacks of cotton on cotton farms, into the desert town of Gila Bend, and park for a hamburger and a coke.  We’ve got 20 minutes.

While we scarf-up the delicacies at Carl’s Jr. I tell Submissivania, “This is where I sold books out of a truck once upon a time.  Right here, right here where we’re sitting.”

“Really, Rawclyde, you’re so funny!” bubbles my favorite secret-agent partner.

“Right here in this very spot, before this hamburger joint was ever here,” I tell her.  “I sold a little book of lyrics written by old Hank Williams to a school teacher one day.  A half hour later another school teacher come by all excited and buy a fat biography of Pancho Villa.”

“That’s hilarious, Rawclyde!” giggles Submissivania.

I got the feeling that this pretty woman is patronizing the old man.  Which, in actuality, is okay with me.  She slyly looks around, sticks a french fry into a puddle of catchup on her tray, pops it into her mouth.  I take another bite of my burger, gulp down some coke.  The burger isn’t too bad.

“I called that old truck ~ Rawclyde’s Book Mule.”

“Oh Rawclyde!  How cute!”

~~~

photo:

http://evelinagalli.com

~~~

America as a gun culture…

Haydiya's Mom and Michelle

Haydia Pendleton, an innocent 15-year-old girl, after performing at the U.S. President’s 2013 inaugural ceremony, was killed by a young hooligan in a Chicago shooting a week later.  Haydia’s mom, Cleo, was invited by First Lady Michelle Obama to the State of The Union Address the following month (shown above).  The bereaved mother, in a nationwide internet ad, is now calling for more thorough background checks at all gun sales:

http://www.demandaplan.org/Cleo

~~~