you with your words reading your souldegrading it to less than a Fox News report, you fucker.

Betraying yourself for fear of true exposure.Read it like you feel it.

Kill the monotone intelligentsia bullshit.

Kill it and read like it’s the last thing you’re allowed to say

when the mugger

ignorant to anything but his next 40,

his next fix,

his next payoff –

knowing you’ll die but allowed the privilege

the luxury

yes, the honor of reading here in our timecrunched presence. Read it like it’s your last breath.

Once you have been convinced, please have a look at the prayer rug The front of which reads, “Look into Jesus’ Eyes you will see they are closed. But as you continue to look, you will see His eyes opening and looking back into your eyes. Then go and be alone and kneel on this Rug of Faith or touch it to both knees. Then, please check your needs on our letter to you. Please return this Prayer Rug. Do not keep it.” Why do they want it back?

“Alright, alright, Marc, what’s the conversation to which you referred earlier?”

Fear not, faithful reader, for I will soon come to that. In fact, we have arrived. The conversation, which I will reprint here, is a segue to the country-western song I wrote back in 1999, which still does not have any music associated with it. I’m certain the song will guarantee me a place in hell in some people’s eyes, but I believe Jesus has a sense of humor. Anyway, first, the conversation.

Jesus Freak: Do you know the Lord Jesus?

Me: Of course I do.

Jesus Freak: When’s the last time you talked to Him?

Me: Why, just last night.

Jesus Freak: You spoke to the Lord last night?

Me: Can I ask you a question?*

Jesus Freak: Certainly.

Me: Do you believe that The Lord Jesus Christ is in each and every one of us? (I’m sure there is innuendo here, lurking.)

Jesus Freak: Yes.

Me: Well, then, I was at Annabell’s last night, drinkin’ whiskey with ‘Ole Jesus. He’s a pretty Good Guy.
———

Well, it went something like that.

——

* Don’t you hate it when someone says, “Can I ask you a question?” Ask, YDMF. Ask your question. Sheesh.

——

Anyway, I wrote this song about Jesus, the Swearing Sailor, and the Seven Deadly Sins. I am still looking for someone to write some music for it. Takers should email me,and maybe we can arrange something.

The Ballad of Jesus and the Swearing Sailor

Jesus and the Swearing Sailor cursed themselves a blue streak.
Run up on the Devil’s son and kicked him into next week.

Lucifer’s little one it seems had been talkin’ trash on Jesus.
“Get ye back to Hell my boy
back there till it freezes.

Get ye back to hell my boy,” said my Brother Jesus.

“How’d you do that Brutha Man how’d you do that trick?
How’d you do that Christ my friend, Satan’s pretty slick.”

“It’s all real simple, son—listen up real good:
miracles ain’t all that fun when Pilate’s got the wood.

Envy’s got its price you see, don’t you look so stunned.
Nails pounded in my hands for thee:
The Devil’s on the run.”

The Sailor now, you see, my friend,
he was quite impressed.
How his mind did warp and bend,
this my tongue confessed.

Greedy for another sign, he did taunt Our Lord.
“What other miracles can Ye perform, lest I smite Thee with my sword!”

Jesus was then heard to sigh
a long and woeful sound.
“Sailor, I come from up on High
Where my Father’s found.

Wipe greed from thy heart
for purity do strive
make clean living your chosen art
in Heaven thy will arrive.”

The Sailor he was angry, see?
He was quite upset.
He commenced to cursin’ so—
gnashed his teeth and spat.

Jesus slowly wiped his brow
with all the patience he could muster
told the Sailor “Here and now
please Sailor Sir, you mustn’t fluster.

For wrath an’ rage are Devil’s friends
on that you can depend.
Me an’ you, we’re better things
We shall be reverent.”

The Sailor then did quiet fall,
Proud to be with the Master.

Jesus hollered, “Oh, the gall,”
and smacked the little bastard.

“Put away your pride good son
hubris makes you weak.”

The Sailor he did want to run,
but turned the other cheek.

Jesus said “A bite to eat”
The Sailor did agree.
Found themselves a comfy spot
beneath an apple tree.

Then they ate the fruit you see,
Christ He had his fill,
but Sailor chomped and chowed.
Till he became quite ill.

“Sailor, son, slow it down,
for this is not allowed.

Eat only what you need good sir
For gluttony makes me frown.”

Sailor laughed and wiped his mouth,
and commenced to lie about.

Jesus shook his head again
and turned his eyes not south.

“Help me Father get to him
so that Your Love may flower.
Help Me Father get to him,
please grace Me with Your Power.

The Sailor and the Savior then, went out, that then there day,
on the strand to take a stroll.

Looking down the beach a ways
the Sailor did exclaim
“Look there, my Lord, down near the shore and see
that there yonder dame.
I’d say she’s quite a doll, you see
it looks that way to me.”

Christ shook His head and smiled some,
said, “Father lead me not, lead me not, lead me not
into Temptation.”

They walked along, Christ and His new friend,
till they run up on a pretty girl—
Mary Magdalene you see
an’ Christ was in a whirl.

She wasn’t wearing any clothes.
sir she was jus plum nekkid
Jesus couldn’t look away,
and he commenced to shakin’

“Well, now Brother Jesus now,
wait there just a minute.
You been preachin’ good an’ God
an’ now you think of sinnin’”

“Sailor turn your other cheek
I’ve run out of luck,”
Jesus an’ Mary so sweet
they then commenced to fuck.

Jesus an’ the Swearing Sailor
Soon they parted ways,
Sailor muttered to himself
“Them they was strange days.”

Deconstructed poetry from an inactive blog. Inspired by Jessica Simkovic, written by Marc.

test run of the audio blog functionality. All other audio posts will be original works or explanations.