Deva divine masculine flowing through the brown yoga leaves,
Dominant matrix jig plugged and humming briskly through Joshua Tree.
Ravens of God Metal ducking shotgun blasts from militant disco bombers,
Cops in cars smoking pink cigars as my energy shields them during their break.
Divine Desert Rats: Walking through the park at lunch today I saw three skinny brown desert rat women in the 105 degree heat. I am a desert rat. Everyone in the desert this time of year is a desert rat. These girls were divine brown desert rats. Too bad they would kill me if I took them home to the safety of my seventy degree villa down the road.
There is one bleach bottle blond in particular that I have been noticing. This afternoon she was sitting there rocking back and forth in a self-soothing behavior. She reminded me of myself masturbating. Lately I have been feeling myself up. My yoga body is really hot compared to anyone else my age and my body feels really good to touch. I now shave my whole except for my arms. It was really beautiful to see Blondie sitting there rocking with her little tribe. There was a another petite brown as a berry laying there also.
Non Desert Rat Killer?
Then a really skinny brown girl came by walking barefoot through the grass holding her white shoes and car keys in her hand. White shoe girl was more my style of middle class desert rat with a car, job, and beautiful skin. She may not have killed me but she was only around thirty years old. I want to make them all a part of the Body of Christ Consciousness. My ministry has begun.
Designing With Women
I was walking through the park on my way to lunch at the senior center. I told the director of the center that I was only fifty-nine and-a-half years old, and he let me slide in for the sixty year old price. Now I get my lunch for only $2.00 so I am with my lunch buddy girls almost everyday now.
Women are so much more social than men. Women derive emotional satisfaction from lunch conversation and so do I now. A girl singing a pop song made me lighten up and drop the rock. Years ago a big bear of a heterosexual man sitting in the back row of AA shouted out through his cupped hands: “Drop the rock Dean”. Thanks brother, after all these years. I knew what he meant in that moment it just took me twenty years to drop that rock. Thanks Bob.