"0"PART I & "0" PART II (A gLIMPSE OF H.E.L.L.)

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COPYRIGHT 2010 2011 (C)

    pAGE 1  It was July 4, 2000 when Popa finally saw a doctor about a strange bumpr on his left side underneath his armpit. Much to my mother's and grandmother's dismay the doctor said it was Cancer. And he quickly deteriorated in weeks-he had a pump in his chest that he took antibiotics through.
            I was at my year and a half in my time left in the army. I was stationed at Fort Lee Virginia. My job was a grave digger (MORTUARY AFFAIRS) IN BETWEEN ALCOHOLIC BLACK OUTS AND HANGOVERS, COURTESY OF CAPTAIN MORGAN, COORS, DEAD GUY ALE, ARROGANT BASTARD ALE AND WHAT EVER ELSE I COULD CONSUME. I KEPT MY GRANDIOSE EGO Sane Enough to convince my platoon sergeant to send me to a pre-promotional board for my sergeant stripes. I did the best out of nine other soldiers in the company. My sergeant was very proud. A week later I came up on orders for deployment to Kosovo.


    Yea. My mom called me on the phone intears desperately begging me to visit Popa. Therefore, I got on that plane with Vodka chased with White Zinfandel buzz. Smoked like a dragon in the taxi on the way to Popa and Grandma’s house. When I got there I was in utter...

 

 

 

BEFORE KATRINA-

 

            The blow Fly Inn had the Southern Charm of hospitality with its carpet floors, antique ceiling fans and lights. Had checkerboard cloth tables perfectly spaced for walking space. Had a bar located center point and was divided by a wall that had rectangular squares in it where windows could have been. Seemed like from any seat in the place one could see the bayou. The best place was on the other side of the wall. Oh the moon’s reflection on Brickyard Bayou is truly a work of God’s beautiful creation.

            The waitresses had been there for at least two decades. They remember me as a child when my father took us there on his motor boat. Yea, my father had such good credit with them that sometimes he didn’t have to pay. He’d always get upset at me for ordering the same burger most of the time. Used to watch him and my mom get very inebriated.

 

            Phillip didn’t drink. He almost reminds me of a jolly Buddha: always  content, not much for words, and only seemed to smile when asked a question. I reckon a more operative description of him would be a ZEN SHAPORONE.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=idqrcpnHkQw
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YEA-I chose to change up the frequency to my highness with GooD ol’ boy beer: “the king of beers” Budweiser. Momma did the classy thing ordering a glass of their most expensive wine. Elegantly and solemn she proceeded to tell me how Popa’s ordeal started.

            As she told me the tale, which lasted through me drinking three “good ole’ boys”, I pondered the irony of my grandfather being the last of a dying breed. A dying breed of men who built this country. A dying breed that was forced into war to learn he was dying of Cancer on the 4^th of July.

            Momma was pacified after the food came by Phillip prompting “it’s gonna get cold dear”. We ate the food in silence. Due to my buzzed thinking I reasoned eating with my hands. Yea, I could bring myself tranquility by caveman means. Momma was embarrassed by my conduct and I could tell by her quick glances-and Phillip was shaking his head every few seconds in sly disapproval. Yea, the waitresses stared inshock as well. Like their eyes were X-rays that savagely

 

penetrated my physical self:

the bastard caused child of a spoiled American Dream. The boy who lost his mind for a few months as he was awaited in fear a forced change ^.

 

Lost my mind (gave it away) on halucinagenic induced Black Majic Rituals in a band that never escaped the unnamed trailer park on ..

Three Rivers Road

...

 

            The waitresses knew me as the obediant child who was always polite and barely spoke a word. a child that dared not to have branding marks and skull tatoos on his white anglo saxon body. good ol'boys reared by cadillacs, mercedes driving two story house having parents didn't dare to do.
             yep, it was like they saw right through my drunken induced macho facade and even knew when i was liven in phillip's and mom's delapitated garage apartment where for entertainment i watched the wood ants devour the cockroaches on wooden floors that were stained by ash, vomit, and garbage. the boy who could only get employment from temporary job agencies working around crackheads and drunks.

                                                                 yea, this bastard of the american dream fit right in. and it only took less than a year to do so.

                 when momma got up to use the bathroom she would have fallen flat on her face if it wouldn't have been for sir phillip sneaking a chair in front of her that she grabbed hold of.

____________________________________________________

..

Saw the Vision of the “doG” every where. Through seeing the doG I believed GOD TO BE ON MY SIDE. YES, IT WAS AND IS SOMETHING I PICKED UP ON LONG AGO WHILE STUDYING THE WAYS OF TAROT. SPECIFICALLY 0-“the fool”. 

            The fool has a stick over his shoulder that has a bag of his belongings on the end of the stick. He’s got one foot on the ground of a cliff and the other in the air about to step off into oblivion. He’s got his head turned staring at a doG jumping on his leg. The foretelling of this card is that you are about to make a mistake until THE DIVINE INTERVENTION OF THE ARCHETYPE OF GOD IN THE FORM OF A MUTT SAVES YOU.

                                                After consuming half the pint

…I RETURNED TO my grandparents house under the first phase of my drunken highness. Under this first phase I am prone to feel philosophical. Thus, I sat in her rocking chair and admired my grandma’s miniature white poodle “Buddy”. He was playfully running around because he was happy to have company. Started trowing one of his toys in the air. He’d catch it in his teeth, bite down and shake his head violently like the toy was a piece of bloody flesh. Was very charmed by Buddy and started remembering

a few of the dogs that had been in my life.

The first was my childhood pet Brownie. He was half Dalmatian and ....Chihuahua....

 . Yea, that must have been pretty funny watching a Dalmatian and a ....Chihuahua.... get it on. Brownie used to follow me in the woods. He was always by my side. Then the day came when he came home with one of his eyes hanging out of his head. We had the eye removed, and shortly thereafter he developed paralysis. Decided to put him down. I’ll never forget my mom and my sister crying on the way from the vet. “Take it to the Limit” by The Eagles was playing on the car stereo.

Years later, shortly after my parents divorce, I was walking to my best friend’s, Charles, parent’s house. Through the woods that lead to “Suburban Paradise” (..

Also during this time I had a friend whose father grew weed in a shed in their backyard. They had Rottweiler’s on chains in front of their house. Yes indeed it was a white trash alarm system. I bet they remember the day I walked up to their hounds of hell and played with them. All along the while they were yelling warnings that the dogs would tear me apart.

Two years before joining the Army I was living with the “oh I’ll love you forever X” and we adopted a mutt who was running along the ..Wolf.. ..River.. banks of Perkingston ....Mississippi..... Named him River Rat. Months later, after the inevitable break-up, I was taking back roads of that Lonesome Highway 49 and I saw River Rat. Called him, and he came running with one of his eyes missing.

In the Army, while stationed in Kosovo, our Morgue was behind the Military Police’s station’s dog training area. Quite often while processing human remains the dogs would howl. The howling made me ponder the possibility of human souls entering the dogs. The memory of the howling filled my mind with a morose ambient orchestration. My step father’s car horn trespassed my mind, thus brought me back to REALITY.

The comedown came with more memories before my parent’s divorce. To the outside world we were the all American family.

____________________________________________

the manifest

So many years later…

with those whom are spirits such terms as “Y3@Rs” (years) seem like a few minutes. …gives one an accurate perception of what Eternity must be like.

 

…yes indeed,

as the Loh’Rd saved me from the brooding Fate of a D.E.A.T.H. in the SinTax-through Spiritual equations of “self-will” I became somewhat domesticated. That is, I became more “autonomous”-I ponder if I have lost a vision of the “SPIRITUAL WORLD” THAT EXIST AMONG THE LIVING as I became a positive contribution to society. Always known it to be true that as one IS in the grips of D.E.A.T.H. awareness of the SPIRITUAL REALM IS INEVITABLE. SO INEVITABLE THAT IT CAN BECOME OF EXTREME PSYCHOLOGICAL, EMOTIONAL ANGUISH TO INTERPRET THE NORM OF REALITY while co-existing in SPIRITUAL REALMS-

footnotes:

1. D.E.A.D. (didn’t everyone always tell him (her))-implies a warning given to us by others that if we don’t change our ways we will die. Examples: “stop smoking” “stop drinking” “stop using drugs” Inevitably, we all will die-furthermore-it is common knowledge that the types of lives we live manifest our d.e.a.t.h.-important to note that in the spiritual realm nothing truly DIES.

2. SINTAX (IS AN ALTERATION OF GRAMMATICAL TERM SYNTAX(THE STRUCTURE OF WRITING ON PAPER) AS WELL AS “SINTAX”-IS AN INVESTMENT TERM. FOR IT IS VERY LUCRATIVE TO INVEST IN ANY PRODUCT THAT INVOLVES “SIN”(ALCOHOL, CIGARETTES, FIREARMS, PORNOGRAPHY,ETC.)TERM CAN ALSO BE APPLIED TO DRUGS LEGAL AND ILLEGAL. WHEN I WRITE OF SINTAX I AM ASSOCIATING A SECULAR WORLD IN WHICH PEOPLE ARE CONSUMED IN THEIR LIFESTYLE OF A CHEMICAL INDUCED PERCEPTIONS OF  REALITY.

“THE MIND IS .. –JOHN MILTON ..PARADISE.. LOST

A PLACE

.. OF ITS OWN AND IN IT ONE CAN MAKE A HEAVEN OF HELL OR A HELL OF HEAVEN.”

∞†‡∆

Popa,

I remember the first time you came in my dreams

 after your physical D.E.A.T.H. You were in your

 favorite chair. You were pointing toward

 something you wanted me to see.

 I was afraid by seeing you. Thus, you disappeared.

Sincerely,

Lil John

            The methodology of the Sintax had caught up with him (WILD TURKEY and FILTERLESS CIGARETTES). The trespassing of the cells (Cancer) had already begun feeding on his mortality. Had a valve inserted into his chest; the first of the (mechanical insects “worm”).It was to feed him medicine.

            Had two televisions within arms length of his bed. Grandma told me that he would wheel himself into the den. He would cry as he watched through the sliding glass doors the squirrels play in the backyard.

            Thinking about it now, I think he gave up and accepted his fate. He was trying to tell me months before I saw him through e-mails. One I recall was a dark joke “you know you are getting old when you bite into steak and lose your teeth.”

            His eyes and vocal tone (a crackling whine) begged for me to stay so he could relish his last moments with me. No matter who, or what I had become, was becoming, I was still of his creation. His only grandson who was named “John” after him.

             

 

 

Left out of his room because I couldn’t smoke a cigarette in front of him.

There is a greater defining principle of “being”. The ageless conceptualization of “to be or not to be”-posed by Shakespeare has morosely been diluted by Man’s escapism:

1968:

“there’s no reason to drink, Dub."

“but you don’t understand. Three of the trucks are broken down.” The cigar smoke was slowly leaving his office. Seemingly, leaving at the same time as his friends were leaving. All because Grandma had had enough of worrying about Popa.

“You know that no matter how drunk you get the trucks will still be broken down.” He looked down at her 4 foot 11 frame and sighed, “yea, I know.” –

”then he looked at the television screen…

_____________________________________________________________

Footnotes: mechanical insects refers to I.V.’s and other medical devices designed for health.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The T.V. news was on all channels, keeping the hysteria alive with..and uh this time “THE REVOLUTION WAS TELEVISED”…reporters interviewing: Military Service Members, civilians, and redundantly were interviewing each other.Just had a few minutes of free time to be away from picking up the dead out of The Pentagon and I can’t even escape the brooding by watching a cartoon.

September 11, 2001:

54 Quarter Master “Mortuary Affairs” Company sent their first team that same afternoon to assist the Federal Bureau of Investigations. The rest of us deployed within the 48 hours. The Honor Guard (the U.S. Army’s personal soldiers that protect the Pentagon) tried to do what we do. They couldn’t. They got so dismayed that they were vomiting.

Day after day, smelling burnt flesh with burnt human flesh melted together. Unfathomable, it still is to me to imagine burning to death, like hell. The televised revolution showed people choosing people choosing to jump from the Twin Towers rather than be burned.

Day by day-

Sitting and Waiting for the “looters fair” to clear out so we could go in and remove the dead. I wasn’t fortunate enough to be on the night shift (these soldiers got the most action). Every N.W.O. (new world order) entity (Burger King, Outback, Pizza Hut etc.) and charity organizations (Red Cross, Peace Corps) seemed to be on the Pentagon lawn. All supplying free stuff from clothes to medical services. I felt ashamed to participate and feed into questionable motives. For there’s nothing like a National Tragedy for an opportunistic person to selfishly seek recognition as a hero.

Around September 17, I was reassigned to Belvoir. Here, myself and a handful of others were responsible for removing human remains (mostly boxes that contained body parts: head, arms, legs, torso’s) off of our Reefer Trucks and onto helicopters to get shipped to Dover for identification.

There wasn’t much to eat at Belvoir, we mostly had Gator Aid Power bars, and packaged tuna. Therefore, every couple of days we went to the bases p.x. (grocery) to get food.

Footnote: I am addressing the 911.

The words “hell”-and “death” are expressed as standard definitions.

Looters Fair-all businesses on the Pentagon lawn providing free services to Military Service Members.

N.W.O. new world order- corporate large business i.e. chain restaurants and banking systems, i.e. as compared with locally owned business that support local economy.

Reefer Truck-human remains stored in a box refrigerated truck.

____________________________________________________________________________

　

　

Inside the store I stocked up on a bunch of junk food mostly. Think the healthiest food I got were Roman Noodles. Had to go through the toy isle to get to the cashier. I saw W.C.W. action figures. The N.W.O. W.C.W. figure that caught my attention the most was Hulk Hogan. Really wanted to buy that one. Yet denied myself through the logic of  I didn’t have enough money. W.C.W. had gone out of business when bought by Vince McMahon. A dream gone bad, like me. Wanted to be a superstar before age 28. Hell the Rock’s older than me.

-WITH THAT THOUGHT IN MY MIND-was like my eyes had shut and I sleep walked (L sleep deprivation) and when I opened my conscious mind, I was infront of the alcohol section. “but DAMN I can’t risk getting drunk if the NCOIC caught me I would surely have the book thrown at me.” (UCMJ)               Yet I logically deduced that I could get 3 mini bottles. Then the chemist in me came out; check it: If I BUY THREE DIFFERENT NAME BRANDS I COULD GET BUZZED QUICKLY and safely:

JIM AND JACK RIDING THE WILD TURKEY (jim bean, jack daniels and wild turkey

FOOTNOTES: WCW WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP WRESTLING BOUGHT BY Vince McMahon in 2001 . McMahon owned the World Wrestling Federation, Now known as World Wrestling Entertainment.

N.W.O. New World Order a faction rogue organization of pro wrestling bad guys. Hulk Hogan was their leader.

Rock Dwayne “the Rock” Johnson at this time was famous in Wrestling.

NCOIC the Sergeant in charge of Army operations.

UCMJ Uniform Code of Military Justice law of military service members more strict than civilian law.________________________________________________________________

Returning

To My Small barracks room. I was so frightened thinking about the daily security briefings that SFC Hardgrove gave: “Bin Laden has declared JiHad on the United States.”   and she told us that we would eventually go after our old buddy Sadam. To disrupt  my thoughts I comically wondered “What color America was today?”

…and when Taps  was played-for once it really meant something to me; something very intimate. Went outside and with my tears slowly falling I stood at attention and saluted.

            Then I went to the barracks lobby with hope of normalcy returning by way of “tell me vision) television-maybe an old timey Buggs Bunny cartoon. Like the ones I watched as a child. perhaps to harvest innocence from my subconscious mind…

                                                                        NO.

3 phones occupied-2 conversations between lovers and 1 conversation with a parent.

and the effect it had on me was that painful knowing in my gut. and uh

                                                                        I realized I was all alone. Needed a drink.

Back in my room:  yet my tears fell faster than I could get it down. Faster than I could rid the knowing in my gut-and realized in that moment I had no one to call and no one to call me all I had was the bottle.

Footnotes: color America was today-during this time our country was depicted as being in different colors that defined our National Security against threats

Taps: On Military bases this instrumental is played on a loud speaker. It is an homage to Military Service Members who gave their lives for our freedom.

T.V.: Tell Me Vision-I am referring to persons who watch television compulsively-after a while the viewer finds purpose through television programs.

_____________________________________________________________________

…all I had was the bottle.

                                                Bottle tipped and the putrid red liquid engulfed an all inclusive glimpse of hell"o"
 (here except Lord’s Love) ,with tombstones as houses. Engulfing the Red, White and Blue police lights…YES.

                                                                        The Alcoholic/Addict earns his (her) wings with the animation of the law (Sirens). just like every time you hear a bell ring an Angel earns his wings. ____________________________________________

Footnote:  “every time you hear a bell ring an Angel earns his wings”- reference is from classic movie “It’s a wonderful life” starring Jimmy Stewart.

Bottle tipped and the putrid red liquid engulfed an all inclusive glimpse of hell (here except Lord’s Love) ,with tombstones as houses. The hands holding the bottle seem to have a mind of their own.

            Everyone waiting…

_________________________

                                                Yes –CREATIVITY IS A CHANNEL TO SPIRITUALISM (ONE OF God (DAY)

 and the other, the devil (NIGHT)::                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                “You’re CAST DOWN.” Chris sang as he played his guitar. He was a channel

            Like so many times before calling on a demon from the East who had the name of Shah. As an ultimatum of rebellion this demon perverts the Holy Lands through inciting war (CHAOS).

 

FOOTNOTE:  1968’s ending:

                        A soldier returns home from his six month tour of Vietnam. His wife is anxious for him to see their new born son in his crib. Much to her dismay, the evil that possessed him in the war came out.

                        Looking into his new born son’s eyes he saw an image of God he had left behind from seeing countless deaths.

                        …and this demon, whose name sounds like shhh, traveled from the father to his son’s eyes.

                        “NO I CAN’T LET THIS HAPPEN!” then the father tried to kill his son. Fortunately the Military Police stopped him.

…and the soldier spent the rest of his life in an asylum.

“YOU’RE CAST DOWN!” Spencer annunciated Chris’ guitar rhythm with strokes on his Jackson electric guitar. It gave the booms (the footsteps of this demon are the sounds of WAR: explosions: guns, bombs, and landmines).

    and I

gave the demon the ground to walk on by the way I played my piano. Sounded like someone getting dragged to hell.  “YOU’RE CAST  DOWN!”..

The power that flowed through Chris and spencer left them very exhausted. The lsd, weed, and the whiskey and wine left them hollow:: stripped of inhibitions and logics. After my three minutes of piano dissonance they went to sleep. But I was more hungry. Infatuated by the possession. I sat in a recliner facing the hallway of the mobile home. The trailer home was haunted.

                           HAUNTED FROM THE GHOSTS OF MANY. TWO HAD DIED LEAVING THE TRAILER. FORMER BANDMATES, BEFORE ME, THAT HAD ENTERED INTO A FRIGHTFUL MENTAL STATE. SUICIDE WAS THEIR CHOICE OF A WAY OUT.

                           THE CUT, BLOODLETTING, ON MY RIGHT SHOULDER OF A HEART WITH WINGS OMNIOUSLY BLED. BLED IN A STREAK DOWN MY ARM AND WENT INTO MY GLASS OF BLACK VELVET (ROCK GUT WHISKEY).

                           I DEVIOUSLY SMILED

as I drank from my glass. Burned my throat. Then the cd player in the corner started playing 3 discs at once-I lit my cigarette, pulled hard and exhaled. Let the smoke stream out my mouth, rose to the ceiling and I watched as the smoke formed phantoms.

 

…and they started telling me that I knew how to free them from hell.

 

                                                            I looked down the

                                                                 HALLWAY

 

and wondered again-

What’s Purgatory LIKE?

Is it

            Like waiting in an unemployment line?

Is it

            Like being at the hospital

            Waiting for the doctor?

Is it

            Like waiting for the

            Results of a test to see if you have an incurable disease?

Is it

            Like waiting for judgment “Guilty or Not Guilty?”

 

            Countless programs on (tell me Vision) have shown long hallways-with many shut doors. The rub is, was, will be, which door to open.

Cutrier Mansion 2009:

                                        …I pray to God to protect me…

            Two columns for an entrance. I walked slowly through the columns w/ an army duffel bag on my back and my acoustic guitar in my hands.

I unlock the front door and it slowly swings open by itself as if unseen hands were politely welcoming me in. Quickly made my way upstairs. Once upstairs I set up 2 digital voice recorders and 2 cameras. I left my offering to Blanch

Footnote: In ....Clarksdale.. ..Mississippi.... located in the historical ..

                                                                                                and the other spirits in the den. The den was where they used to have their parties and the legendary WC Handy would be their entertainment. After a couple of hours I began exploring the other rooms. Came around the witching hour (2 am-3 am) when I decided to strum on my guitar as a way to channel the energies through me. In a far bedroom, the room that was furthest left to the onlooker from outside.

I prayed again for God to protect me.

… “you hear that Blanch?”

“God protect you this time.”

I was paralyzed with F.E.A.R. for a few seconds that seemed longer. I compare it to going through a tornado(what happens in five minutes seems like hours). Stumbled out into the hallway with my legs feeling like they were being pulled to prevent me from moving.

            The hallway lit up in a green neon. Was like the moon beamed her fingers through  every crevice where light could trespass the darkness. Shadows merged at the hallway’s end, and slowly crept forward in a threatening manner.

                                                was like

                                                an electrically lit hallway slowly stuttering a black out.

            The darkness engulfed me with the wind screaming at me. Then the weight on my legs stopped. Logically, I deduced that my only escape was to go up the stairs into the attic. up the stairs. I was in the nerve in the vein that traveled to Cutrier’s brain. In the vein of polluted space where time (past, present and future were one

 

______________________________________________________________________

Footnote: Another ghost that haunts the mansion is one of a preacher who used to do Penance (whip himself) in a small room in the attic.

WC Handy was a famous musician who founded the Blues.

 

                                                                                                                                                                        (day of the dead) (what is deathlike?)                                                                         room where Popa was leaving this world and sleeping into other worlds against his will.

                                                Easy when I was drunk…

to get lost in a hospital that had so many halls (open and shut doors, groans and moaning from those having futile resist against death).

                                                A few minutes ago I pulled into ....Memorial.. ..Hospital.... parking lot with Bob Seger talking to me through the FM “Bring it to your Popa”.

 

                                                                                                                        Thought it would be appropriate to read to him “Notes Of A Dirty Old Man” by Charles Buskowsky. After reading the story about an Angel getting his wings cut Popa fell asleep.

            The nurses came in at about 6 pm. I wanted him to return to good health. So many times I used my own will power to accomplish goals. Popa was hardly eating and no matter how how pretty or nice the nurses were he would not eat.

Waited till she left the room to impose my will power on to his. With spirits in me (uplifting philosophical buzz) I stood at the foot of his bed and stared at him imagining that I was sending him power within me through my eyes. He let out a cough that was so strenuous that he woke himself. Reminded me of the coughs at the trailer when he would spit into his can. That was so long ago.

                                                            He opened his eyes slowly:

 

“General Hancock.”

“hh.”

“I’m gonna’ be promoted to sergeant. Won a promotional board. Best out of six other soldiers." ...                                                                                                                     

       

 

___________________________________________________________________________________

Footnote: In ....Clarksdale.. ..Mississippi.... located in the historical district of Clark Street

.. there is a mansion at the end of the street. This mansion was the summer home of relatives of the founding family of ..Clarksdale.. (the ..Clarks..).  Specifically the Cutriers (Blanch Cutrier). The house is haunted by ghosts. Among them is Blanch herself. Since Cutriers were residence the mansion has been a school for nuns, and is currently a section for ....Delta.. ..State.. ..University.....

______________________________________________________________

 

his eyes went from glazed to RAW DETERMINATION-“EAT POPA!”

                                                                                                            I THOUGHT I HAD CURED HIM. He wrapped his fingers around the cup filled with grape juice. Put the cup to his mouth and then quickly drank it down.

                                                                        Only. –to vomit it up.

            The Dark Red fluid that fell to the Ground resembling tear drops

as it dripped slowly. The ferryman: the figure wore black robe. Couldn’t see a face because his head was down and concealed by the hood-

heard footsteps behind. Yet, it deceived my logics. Was more like Nagging flies buzzing around my ears: …those creeping obsessions that keep us down in h.e.l.l.

“you’re a failure everyone hates you kill yourself there is no god no one loves you you should never have been born you are cursed you will always be alone” –these voices buzzed closer.

I

                                                Looked Down

                                    At My Feet sincerely wanting

                                                      The Loh’Rd

           to show me the way. 

Blood came in relentless waves on the black sandy shore. The ferryman looked up and his face was still hidden by his hood. The ferryman extended his hand, wanting me to come aboard. The sounds of the voices combined with the flies came closer. I turn around and see countless flies, wasps, and bees. Thousands, millions, and a voice came thunder “We Are Legion We Are Many”…the insects transformed into humans-

 HERE

                                                                                                                  EXCEPT

                                                                                                                        LORD’S

                                                                                                                                LOVE-

                                                                                                                                                HUMANS? Monsters they become the ugliness: monstrosities of sins: phallus’ as painful puss filled tails. Hands twice the size of their bodies, holes the size of potholes in their crotch region. Bleeding sores on their faces. Tongues as long as their arms.

                                    THOU SHALL NOT COVET.

            I TURNED BACK AROUND AND KNEW, KNOW, WILL KNOW TO GET ON THE BOAT. I taste metal from underneath my tongue. I remove the one day at a time coin and place the coin in the ferryman’s hand and get on the ship. Slowly

________________________________________________________________________footnote: One Day at a Time chip is the first one that an addict/alcoholic receives at a 12 step recovery meeting.

                                                                                                                               the boat moves away from the shore and the sin malformed humans kept moving forward. They stepped into the bloody red water and instantly burned.

            The ferryman turns his head and pulls down his hood.

___________________________________________________                                   

Inherit The Skull

the skull was on fire in the graveyard the skull was on fire on the t-shirt the skull was on fire on the comic book cover

 

“GET THAT SHIRT OFF YOU HERECTIC!”

“I’M NO HERECTIC!” the teenager wearing the Ghost Rider t-shirt yelled opposing the Elder.

“YOU ARE A HERECTIC!” the Elder’s face was beet red-yep-this was just one of the countless times that he was possessed by the spirits (alcohol)

“Take off the shirt!” the boy fell from getting pushed head first into the sharp edge of the wall’s corner. He bled from the back of his head.

 

            Straddled the 85 pound boy and started punching him in the face.

            “GET AWAY FROM HIM!” she pleaded as she tried to pull him off of the boy. The elder got up and pushed her down. Distracted him long enough for the Prodigal Son to run out of the front door.

 

 

                                                …walked through the front door and gave the boy a Ghost Rider comic book as a Christmas Gift.

                                                …set fire to the skull mounted to the voodoo cane on the elder’s grave.

                        the flame on the skull lit up the once

Footnote:
“Ghost Rider” is a comic book hero, see Marvel Comics. The character was double crossed selling his soul to the devil. Therefore, he now vows vengeance upon the devil.

________________________________________________________________________

 

darkened hallow eye sockets that are, were, will be Vortices.

There is a belief that soul is located slightly above the Occipital Lobe. Common fact is that the human only uses 10% or less of their brain.

  

      So many things in the head that we use consciously and, of course, unconsciously  that prevent us from using our total capacity of our psychic prowess.

                                    You know in

Paleonic times the Ape peered into the skull of man. Man peered into the skull of Ape.

                                                and pondered the meaning of it all.

Centuries came and went and man fancied himself to watch himself to watch himself: people watching people Infinitum.                                                                                                                    ............................................................................................

 

There are, I believe, equations involving emotions of insecurity that contribute to the loss of identity: ........ 

                                                Such as perceptions polluted by daily activities of ........Paying bills, working, raising of children, finding a mate, etc. and of course all factors contribute to a personal interpretation of reality.

                                    Or an Footnote Maslow 10%

 

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Prelude to F. E.A.R. (false evidence appearing real) with an increase of mental illness around the world-AM I THE RESULT OF BEING AT A WAR WITH IN MYSELF DUE TO MY GENECTIC ANCESTRY’S BEING AT WAR: the Indian and the white, the German and the Jew. My only cure is to walk through my inherited fears.

            …in a cage or confined to a small box-

What is Purgatory like? Flipped the light switch and it spread its electricity like a synapses in the brain. Flashing, blinking on the insulation and air conditioner ducts.  All of the Cutrier’s circuitry (energy) went to a small room that very much reminded me of a small jail cell. This is the Preacher’s Penance room. It was the only lit room among the darkness.

                                                Penance (F.E.A.R.)

…barely hanging from the ceiling by stripped wiring was a single bulb. It shined like a trespassing sun reaching out an invisible hand pulling my mind…

                                                              in the Penance room.

…1&2,2,3&3,4…I played that waterlogged warped guitar that I picked up off the side of the road(post-Katrina), as the addict lit up normally.

            As I played the riffs I became possessed by the Priest whipping his back (Penance) for all of his defects and shortcomings.

…through the cracks in the wood the winds howled (Angels, demons) whispering in my ears.

________________________________________________________________________footnote: the terms defects and shortcomings are 12 step recovery concepts. Defects are our sins. Shortcomings are the things we do under the influence of our defects.

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            Seven feet long strings of beads hung from the doorway of the backroom of a Voodoo shop in New Orleans. The oracle sat at the end of the table. She looked like any upper middle class kids grandma. She held my hands in a calming maternal fashion as she did the reading: “there are six spirits protecting you. But you would be surprised who these spirits are.” The spread :  temperance, the tower, death.

inside the veins

of polluted space:

 

                              He felt the priest whipping himself and the winds trespassing through the cracks in the wood-winds trespassing spirits whispering…

                                                                                                     and I wondered, “Does he whip himself for the spirits?”

                                                                                                     and I knew of a fear I had not known in a while. I knew not who I was, will be-

                                                            “Who Am I?”

                                                            “Keep playing the guitar, boy.”

                                                                                                     and I wondered “Does he whip himself to call those who are dead back into this world?”

                                                                                                                  close my eyes and breathe…

                                                                                                                   close your eyes and breathe in…

                                                                                                                   closes his, her eyes and breathes in through the nose and out of the mouth-

                                                                                                                    each breath summoning a Protective Spirit.

F.E.A.R.

“GOD PROTECT YOU THIS TIME.”

What’s Purgatory like?

Is it like being in a police station’s question room? Where and when one wrong answer will earn you getting locked in a cell of the beast?

                                                “WHY’D YOU DO IT SON?”

What’s Purgatory like?

Is it like being in Institutional counseling sessions where when one answer will earn you a PRIVATE VACATION IN THE BELLY OF THE BEAST.

He’s bleeding from opening up the scars.

            The pain came to me in my fingertips while I played. If I stopped I would be possessed by the Evils the Preacher was freeing with every drop of blood.

F.E.A.R.

What’s Purgatory like?

No. I better not ask you to be my friend. You’ll just hurt me.

            All of those things I haven’t done, do, will do, that I reacted to events that happened to me. These were things I wanted but I did not get because I imagined in my mind of how events might turn out to hurt me. Events that I imagined might cause me tremendous physical, mental, and emotional pain.

            Then I got savvy becoming quite a reader deciphering what people said and did. Interpreted a meaning that I felt protected me.

           

There were things I wanted to do.

            I missed out on opportunities to enjoy my life due to psyching myself out, events imagined…

           

You

                        Inside my head.

 

I imagined the bad thing that might happen to me if I participated in enjoying life, rather than enjoying life I stayed by myself in self-pity.

 

Yet, I took my f.e.a.r. (false evidence appearing real) even further by creating my own meanings out of things that happened to me (people, places, and things in reality).
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Had to press harder with my fingertips.

nsitive to the devil’s temptation. He was so obsessed by sins that he dared not venture outside of the Cutrier’s brain.

It’s said that the Cross Roads is a place to meet the devil and sell your soul in exchange for fame. This is what Tommy Johnson did.

Take that guitar to the cross roads at midnight with your guitar and a black cat bone.

The Holy man was so hot that he began to hallucinate. He feared death, and therefore, in order to keep himself alive through self-will he whipped himself harder. As his blood streamed down his back felt cold as ice.

…the devil, to others, God of the Cross Roads, “Popa Legba” cause your fingernails to break on the guitar strings. As you play the tune you bleed on the guitar strings. Legba takes the guitar from you. Hands it back. Then you are able to play any song.

     

 

Footnote: Faustian type fable deriving from the Mississippi Delta.

                “Jesus had the metal spikes driven into his feet and wrists by a metal hammer. And what was the sound it made? It was Heavy Metal.”

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