A Broken Battered Hallelujah



A Broken Battered Hallelujah


I was pulled from the murky Underbelly of a concussion. I felt like I kissed a rose filled with Thorns.  Once again I was a victim of the hairy handed one who throbbed with sordid bacchanals.  I felt a tad messianic from the rancid ambrosia that I had imbibed from the night before

The gossamer cadaver skin. So pale. So venous. The Hairy Handed One was just a series of protruding Vulgarisms.  Venal Vulgarisms that vibrated my body into a macabre dance.

I once brought my Lover a Bobcat. It ate all our poultry and terrorized the hounds.  To Celebrate that night we had Snail Tacos which are considered a real delicacy in these parts.  The Hairy Handed One had a Mullet that didn’t make it.  Lyle Lovett meets the Wolf man.  Me ~~ Just an Abstract Tart.  Then he vanished like fog into the mist.

The Queene Anne Sanitarium was built so that every floor opened out to the cliffs behind the “Health Spa.”  An open invitation if I ever saw one!!  Parson Krown was renowned for telling the families of potential patrons the story whilst they toured this magnificent abode.  Good compost for the garden. For a Man of the Cloth Parson Krown constantly made puzzling statements.  As they tumble backwards over steepness and onto the razor sharp craggy rocks.  Many times in the late night early dawn and late dusk I’ve ventured out to the shore line. It can’t be described as a beach even though the ocean laps its shores.  The ground is littered with black stones of all shapes and sizes. Even what little sand there is is of a pebbly granular consistency.

It’s always those quaint, quiet picturesque villages that have the most undertow.   Some days I spent a quiet time in my room only to realize that quite unexpectedly that my room was no longer my room but a brand new room populated with unfamiliar objects.  I felt myself being drawn into a mysterious Rectangle.





Just spitballin’ through life.


The scent of decomposing flesh and decaying blood permeated the entire shore line. Someone had formed giant sand stupas each one commemorating the death of a fallen. In place of my heart was a bloody effusions.





Ecclesiastes 12:1-8

New King James Version (NKJV)

12 Remember now your Creator in the days of your youth,
Before the difficult days come,
And the years draw near when you say,
“I have no pleasure in them”:
While the sun and the light,
The moon and the stars,
Are not darkened,
And the clouds do not return after the rain;
In the day when the keepers of the house tremble,
And the strong men bow down;
When the grinders cease because they are few,
And those that look through the windows grow dim;
When the doors are shut in the streets,
And the sound of grinding is low;
When one rises up at the sound of a bird,
And all the daughters of music are brought low.
Also they are afraid of height,
And of terrors in the way;
When the almond tree blossoms,
The grasshopper is a burden,
And desire fails.
For man goes to his eternal home,
And the mourners go about the streets.

Remember your Creator before the silver cord is loosed,[a]
Or the golden bowl is broken,
Or the pitcher shattered at the fountain,
Or the wheel broken at the well.
Then the dust will return to the earth as it was,
And the spirit will return to God who gave it.

“Vanity of vanities,” says the Preacher,
“All is vanity.”