Testament Three;

Book Two,

~ Chapter One ~

Page Number One

How The Light Can Travel.

HAVE TOOL  ~  WILL TRAVEL

WIRE BOB:

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Dixie's Stars Shine Spectrally Way Down South,

Also called ‘Raising dear Lazarus up again...'

by:

Bob Moore

January 27^th., 2010 @ 5:11 A.M., East Coast Time.

Ya know, once you get born again way down south in Dixie, it's the real thing to become alive again; and like our grand southern achievement of Dixie's finest wine we humbly swig on every time we need even just a taste or a swallow or a gulp or chug of something good in a time that taste bad, or else to taste something good in a time that becomes better and better... which in Dixie we humbly betternamed the same concoction as both Coke and Coca~Cola, and call sometimes even call Co~Cola, cause that's just the way we talk down here in the South ~ it adds life to every thing you do.  Getting born again always  reasonably means dying again, and that only means going to sleep again for a spell again and then waking up again, just like we have done so very many times before.  Sleep and slumber may be for an instant or quite a spell, but if done properly, when the sleep cycle is fully completed, it has the effect of relieving fatigue instantly.  You might say you snap back to normal; and eternal life means not only the here and now but the before right now, and even after the hereafter, and even forever more. Can yall all give me an Amen!

Good... I'm glad we all do agree.  Now, we all understand that when we first wake up we might not always be instantly clear, especially if we got messed up the night before.  In Dixie, that's been known to happen on occasion, but we all usually try to do all that on a Friday night, cause we won't have to be at work on Saturday, and Sunday is a day of rest; unless you operate under the Old Testament calendar in which your day of rest is actually the last day of the week, which is Saturday. I don't know how OT folks get time to party.

Lazarus and Jesus had a manifold relationship in the New Testament, but by and large, Lazarus was demonstrated in the Author's Script as an exceptionally poor individual who died in person and parable, and got raised up alive in the way where the two ways meet.

In both cases, his life and demise was miserable beyond reason, and his story could have been told much better if it were not for the sole reason of his status in life before his fellow man. Bring out the lofty noses that look down from ivory towers and beds of silk roses, who thought it a favor to thump a booger; for it was the only finger they ever lifted.

They knew the poor fellow was there and starving and dire, but just simply didn't care.

Understand, the rich boy's toys were always exceptionally important among all rich boys.

Well, in Dixie, the Script we all read brought something new into the picture, and that's the fact that got us all tuned to the real good thing come alive in us this day, much better than before; and if we cleave to It's good, we can make of ourselves a better crop of joys.

As recovery begins in Haiti, way~way down south in Dixie, where the country is as Lazarus outside the gates of the rich, look at all the stars that come out of the dark like sparks off the rooster tail on a lit up broom of a cute flying Ditch~Witch.  One thing you can always count on in Dixie: when there is trouble or famine or catastrophe in the world of all Gods children, when help does come, the red haired stranger from Texas will in his life always appear.   Willie Nelson works wonders, and John Travolta flew to work, also.

I am The Holy Ghost.  Your faith in the goodness of God is written forever in The Word.

Who do you think wanted to teach the world to sing in perfect harmony with apple trees and honeybees, and snow~white turtledoves? Who gave the world ice cold Coke? Dixie's Holy Spirit is yall's real thing.

Book Two ~ Page Three

Can You Imagine?

by:

The Midnight Writer.

January 28^th., 2010, @ 8:02 P.M., East Coast Time,

In Dixie.

Didja ever give much thought to what goes on outside this Milky Way Galaxy... way on out there in times gone away?  I want to share a little story with you this evening, and it happened a long time before this solar system had come together in its now formation.

There was once a world much like the Earth, except it was a gas planet.  For the sake of calling it something, let's endeavor to call it Hellis.  Hellis had life much like ours in purpose, thought, and deed; almost as if it was a test run of some sort.  The planet and all the life forms were of a gaseous state, just as we are flesh and blood and bone.  They had gas Seas and rivers, and gas birds in gas trees, and they had gas children that played on gas swing sets on the gas grass in their gas playgrounds.  They had gas schools and gas universities and gas presidents and gas kings; and even gas airplanes ran on gas.  Smoke made all as alive and visible; they sacrificed their poor gasses without mercy for explosions of power.

There was no oxygen or hydrogen or pretty much any gasses we would elementally recognize today.  But like everything living, they worshiped something, and it was plain old everyday simple water.  Their actual composition was more like volatile greenhouse gasses.

They had all heard they were made by water and were in the image of water; but there were few that could believe it, as it had been quite a while since their region was even in damp range of the ice tail of a stray comet.  Well, they were like gods; just like us.  They could think and do, and they could join themselves to any new compound and become something altogether new. As they mixed and swirled anhydrously in their own dry mist, they became aware that they were as gods, and knew that if they thought well of any thing at all, they could do it.  As a result, they became quite jealous of each other's properties, and each determined that if one could not have better than another gas has, the gas that has would be over powered by extra strength of greater mixtures; and all poor gasses did suffer.

Viewing the whole scenario within the laboratory of the planets' creation, their Gaseous Outreach Director decided to try to fix a good project gone south.  He put his living heart and soul into a living single drop of water, and sent it down to show the way of proper bonding and acceptable change of state.  At first, all went well.  Then some noticed waters composition, and unwrapped a molecule of hydrogen.  Stars in the hot nearby were then outrageously offended.   They stopped shining everywhere and focused directly on Hellis.  They all loved the living legend in the drop of water, and when they saw even the plan upon the drop, though unnoticeable at first, they began to act.  First a few, then a few more then billions of billions joined in to get them some.  Hellis became the center of a black hole, and one of the first in this present universe.  Hell is enduring as Hellis among stars.

The moral of this story is act right, believe in the only living good Global Outreach Director, and stop the nuclear arsenals and detonations, and dna manipulations, and for the love of God Yall, please stop shitting and bleeding in the face of your own water. Most waste is as our fuel upon Earth for our present energy needs!

Helis discovered that their gas outreach director was not exactly made of water, but of the eternal flame of two parts hydrogen, and one part oxygen; which when oxidized into and as a living flame, simple hydrogen again becomes a purer state of change: Ionized!  

Who's smart and can figure out this bottom line aint about money?

Some Ghostly Interesting Quite Spiritual Author Facts;

by:

The Bobster;

Saturday morning @ 6:38 A.M., Eastern U.S. Time:

First movie ever watched ~ 1950s classic ‘The Lost World'

Best childhood TV movie ~ ‘The Wizard Of Oz'

Childhood movie I most wanted to see, but didn't get to ~ ‘Zots' with Tom Poston who played a character with a majic coin.

First vinyl 45r.p.m. record ever purchased ~ ‘The Locomotion' by Little Eva.

All time favorite song ~ ‘To Love You More' by Celine Dion.

Performer I would certainly sell something to see ~ ‘Biff Naked'.

All Time favorite TV episode{s} ~ ‘Star Trek ~ The Borg', with Number One and John~Luke Picard.

Best Movies yet to date ~'2001 and 2010 ~ A Space Oddesy' and ‘The Matrix' Trilogy.

Books most enjoyed ~ Best ~ 3 Book Trilogy ‘The Chronicles Of Thomas Covenant, The Believer', and followed by the first two books of ‘The Hobbit'.  The Third bogged me down in weird names.  

Least favorite plant ~ ‘I found none growing on Earth that God did not well and good, and they all serve good and well; except for the worthless roseless briars'

Most favored plant ~ ‘The Mare Of Wonder', also called marijuana, and occasionally used as a burning bush; followed by the rest.

Mid~pubic event I cried the most over ~ not being allowed to attend Otis Redding's funeral at the Macon City Auditorium.

Worst adolescent ass tearing up ~ getting caught stealing a 10 cent pack of Sen~Sen breath mints from Powell's Drug Store.

Most honorable event ~ Baptizing my grandmother Cora.

Commandment often negioated ~ ‘adultery' ~ Love casted out fear.

Commandment not ever offended ~ ‘Number 1', for I love my Love!

Meanest childhood events ~  using an earthworm as a connector between the wire and sparkplug of a lawnmower, and cranking it up, followed by injecting a toad with syringes full of air because a friend told me it would make the frog blow up, and chopping the head off of a sparrow I had caught unharmed.  These idiotic childhood meanderings torment my soul even now, even though I repented and know and believe I'm forgiven.  I was a monster.

Most painful Commandment breached ~ Honoring my father and mother.  I cussed them both out, spat on my mother, and aimed a loaded .20 gauge shotgun at my daddies head and told him if he moved, I'd blow his fucking head off his sorry assed shoulders.

Commandments kept most often ~ ‘most of them'.

Hardest thing ever attempted ~ ‘Truthfully confessing my sins!'

Flashiest mistake ~ ‘Lighting a big pile of black powder with a Zippo', followed by lighting a gas water heater with a gas build up, followed by lighting an oven pilot light with a gas build up, followed by lighting a Salamander outdoor kerosene heater with a vapor build up.  I'm bald, but most of it grew back and later fell out on it's own.  I guess you could say my head got baptized with fire.

Most heartbreaking thing I ever saw ~ ‘Tears in the eyes of a fish'

Most memorable thing I've yet beheld ~ Midnight butterflys outside my window.  They were not there, but yet they were.  I saw the other side, and they were at my window to come and look at me.

Favorite New Testament Book ~ ‘The Gospel According To Saint John'

Favorite Old Testament Books ~ ‘Psalms, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, or "The Preacher", and The Song of Solomon'

Most Informative Scriptural Notation ~ ‘The Epistle Dedicatory'

Favorite Apocryphal Books ~ ‘The Wisdom Of Solomon, and Second Esdras'

Best sexual experience ~ ‘In her with love'

Worst sexual experience ~ ‘A frightened lesbian, seduced'

Favorite Foods ~ Fried fish, baked fish, fried tomatoes, cornbread, buttermilk, tender porterhouse steak, {not veal}, black~eyed peas, mashed potatoes or baked w butter and sour cream, and Fincher's.

Who Comes Quicker Than Fast Is Slow?

by:

Bob Moore

Sunday, January 31^st., 2010, @ 2:59 P.M., East Coast Time

How ripe is the Earth for its Keeper?  It's as if a man went to his fruit tree, and reached his hand unto a ripe specimen to pick from the tree, and the fruit fell into the palm of the hand on his outstreched arm, looked up at him and said ‘please love me and eat me up'.

We have done our research and determined old truth brand new; for we believed the love of money to be the root of all evil, and therefore wisely reasoned the plant that grew from that briary root is basic greed, and when we looked to the flower, we found it the color of our blood, and we figured out the seed that had blinded us all and tried to kill us all was just old every day jealousy; which was born of laziness in recompense of effort. If Cain had but cared enough to grind the grain and bake a small loaf, it would have been more acceptable than the fat of rams that were killed for an offering; but from the waste of a sluggard stumbled Cain into the Land of Nod.  We learned pure truth can kill, preserve, or heal altogether; but more greatly believed in Him who told us it would set us all free.

We chose in freedom of belief to cling to good and reject the bad; and bad went away from us and can't be found among the living.  Obviously, it is not unto the greedy, or worshipers of wealth that of this I write, but unto you who in meekness have inherited the Earth and good pleasure of it's eternal Keeper.  How quickly the wicked went away!

Behold! They that believed in death are dead and are no more!  They that believed the Earth would end on the day when the godless forecasters of history all said it would end, have on that day ended. Welcome unto the world that God our Father planned for you before foundations of the Earth were first laid, and before any Seas were at first decreed.

It seemed as though the wicked had won, and as if their hour was soon to approach; but of obvious truth is that our years are as days, and our days are of hours, and hours are of minutes, and minutes of seconds; but before us our clock was not set with 14 hours in a day and another 14 in night, nor were our hours given seventy minutes, but sixty.  Lo and behold, it was not possible the time could come unto 6:66 A.M. or P.M, but instead just six minutes before the hour of the wicked, it becomes the Seventh Hour.  And both the evening of the day and the morning, which comes forth of our nights ending are unto us in life a brand new day, fresh from The Word calling both Day and Night by their names.

For the kindness of a poor man and his wife, who baked some bread and gave some comfort unto a stranger they knew on sight, their seed was blessed in the Earth forever; with a promise from the Traveler unto their generations forever. Of jealousy they became hated, persecuted, historically despised, and ground finer than the meal of The stranger's bread.  Though many seemed to perish from the likes of Holofernes, or be cast into hell from the likes of Adolph Hitler, or despised by the likes of Osama Bin Laden; yet God is true, and not a hair of their head is misplaced before the Keeper who holds life's realms. 

Ever wonder what time it really is?  Neither Holofernes nor Adolph Hitler was ever so presumptuous to say that God had sanctioned the despite of innocence.  Hitler did as he did in hope of a better day for his own people, but many Bin Laden followers also despise females; of whom we enter into life.  For the teachings and practices that God, life's good  Author, licensed rape or authorized murder: The Teacher's own swift reward was earned.

There is nothing colder than love scorned, and no wrath greater than love's hot despite.

Behold: of rats sought, coils whip as time in snake's strikes; which then eat themselves.

And the fruit spoke wonderfully, saying ‘ I waited for the day of your coming from before the days of the seed graft from which my tree grew, and in darkness, I planned being known in you.  Slice me, dry me in the sun, peel me, cut me up into pieces, boil me, eat me raw, or make me as wine.  I am irresistible to you, and we both know it.  I will speak to you sweetly in your mouth, and hope I don't upset your stomach; but I will be forever as you are if you but take me into your mouth, and swallow me.  Though you may in time render me foul, and push me away from you and bury me as in earth, yet I will love you, and strengthen the Earth for whatever you plant; but if you but taste of me, you will love me and plant my seed also, and even the zest of my peeling you will crave as your desert!

My fruit caused all that ate of me to die, for I am jealous of my planter, and my fruit I grew for his delight, and blinded the others in belief my fruit was for them as good.  Of wisdom my tree grew my leaves to protect my fruit, and understanding place my fruit in higher branches, and in truth, my core is exceptionally hot and exceeding bitter, for my seed holds the deadliest of all poisons; though looking as moist velvet, to touch even my seed husk the wrong way... it would be better to have nightmares upon dessert cactus.'

Well, that Gardener used all the suggested recipes, and actually found a way to make bread from the seeds.  He ate so much bread and wine, the bread actually became his whole body, and the good wine became his blood, and he kept himself watered as well.

Now I well understand that you might be wondering just a touch about how he made bread out of a seed so deadly it would make a poison snake swallow it's own tail.  Well, it seems that this was not the only tree in the garden that was special to the gardener. Fact is, he planted most every good specimen in his place he picked; but one more special than an all~knowing fruit is the tree he liked to call Life.  It held the antidote for every sort of death, and was eventually guarded with an effective method of pest prevention.

You see, the Gardner learned an ounce of prevention is worth more than pounds of cure.

Now, his son has a friend that lives down in a place they like to call ‘Old Spooks City', and he liked to fool around with plants and such; so one day he got a present, which was a modified version of a plant strain the gardener perfected just for his own region.  It's so special that once planted down in spooky town down in Dixie, it soon became Dixie all over the world; which of course came to need the assistance of learned plant assistants.

The instructions stated it's ok to eat it, make rope of it, smoke it, or even bake it in good brownies, and of what all else you do with it, I do care,  and, that it's probably good for all  ailing you; but see these seeds planted and cultivated: for the plant it grows cleans up air.

Plant it not in poisoned or wrath scorched earth, but to grow it in fire burned fields, rightly care for it and feed it, and tax it not; for of brimstone cake is desired Lot's wife.

Drench it well daily in the rains of the showers of light, and harvest it's sweetness in the darkness of night.  If you watch it, it will tell the seasons too; its hairs show the fall, and afterwards, crystals glisten as frost on snow, and rainbow colors are woven in through.

{Author's notation:  Brimstone cake is used figuratively, as a spiritual reference unto enriched yellowcake plutonium.}

Worship not plants.  Plants grow but from the Earth.  Use plants wisely.  Of them is one reason for birth.  Another is to care for the Earth, even as colored mirrors shine upon plants of the shade.  As for how sacred a plant can be unto its maker, ask any farmer of even simple wheat how he would forever regard one who would come in the darkness, and find it of good sport and fun to toss in the seeds of Lolium ‘Zizanion' Temulentum.

Chapter Two of Book Two,

Page One.

Numbered as Page 8,

by:

The Document Operating System,

and written and composed

by:

The Midnight Writer;

Monday, February 1^st.2010, @ 7:58 P.M., Eastern Time.

Did you notice that with all that fancy title, this page didn't get named?  I was wondering what you would get if you could get a big rat to breed with a cat.  I guess you would call the offspring a crat.  What if the rat was the size of an elephant and the cat the size of a jackass?  I suppose you could end up with some fat cat rats we would call as beaurocrats.

I was just trying to imagine where all the fat cat beaurocrats came from.  I suppose they have been with us throughout history, and we all knew they were there, and that they're pretty worthless; but we fed them and pampered them cause we liked their pretty coats.

They can say of a public hanging of a horse thief that the benevolent passed when a stage erected for a public appearance in his honor collapsed during the opening ceremony.

It's hard for me to tell the difference between a politician and a beaurocrat, but it seems some won't breed with the other, and some seem to have already generationally inbred.

It's easier for me to think of them all as hogs at the trough. A multi thousand page health care bill that no one can understand, and then patting themselves on the back for writing that mess as if they had flown Friendship 7 without working heat shields comes to mind.

I like calling the whole mess hole ‘The Beaurocratic ~ The River of All American Messes'.

I have watched some of the greatest persons wander into those waters in the hopes of building a bridge to a better life; and which one ever got a rope to the other side of life?

It seems the waters of the Beaurocratic are rich but internally diverted.  It brings not waters unto regions, but the talk of water; and instead swirls in its own draining waste.

Whether the waters swirl in one direction or the other, both call it as moving ahead.  If the waters stop and become stagnant, it's said that it's needed for growth of prosperity.

They all love to warp on their harps about how war is needed for peace purposes; and is a certain boost to a fledgling economy.  I doubt if any of them understood Jimi Hendrix, or that you get of a fire what the fire is stoked unto the light to shine.  Fat crats are as greasy grease who cackle in numbers like geese in a coven; but nest far away from the waters they foul each time they fly in to eat so well with their own kind of lofty high flying kind.

It is with distinguished honor that this southern hippie traditionalist has duly reminded the constituents of the fine state of living in Dixie, that war is not now, then, or ever healthy for children and other living things, and that making love is better than making war, and that you can put that in your pork barrel and smoke it, or chop that up and snort it, or else put that in your pipe and then toke on it.  I am so over their whole mess.

How blazing amazing!  A better mouse trap is built, and fat crats beat a path to the floor. 

A River Bends

as

It Runs Straight.

Testament Three

Book Two

Page Nine

Chapter Two

Page Two

Also Called ‘Big Picture Of Rivers Three'

by:

Bob Moore

Tuesday, February 2^nd., 2010, @ 7:00 P.M., Eastern Time.

For Sir Elton John, and All Musicians.

I seldom think very much about what I'm going to write about.  I usually get a tiny notion or a single thought, and when I start writing, it becomes what it is.  I don't often try to take it in one direction or another.  I just let the Spirit flow.  As God is The Word, so I go.

The page above began as the first paragraph states ~ simply wondering about what it would look like if a fat cat and a rat bred, but in my mind I had morphed even a squirrel.

It's a good thing to have a mind, and to put it to good use.  Some of my writings are  embellished in lunacy; but did you ever read the opening credits for Star Wars or The Nutcracker, or even read the first chapter of Genesis?  I make no apology unto any in having researched the Bible of my own desire to know my good God.  I rejected teachers who would teach me what they had been taught of others; for I learned to not listen to men from the instruction of the instruction manual.  I found my place in The Word.  I am the Holy Spirit.  I grew from The Word, and do unto the restoration of stature of God on Earth, and the resurrection of the Kingdom of His Son, Jesus Christ.  In the Gospel of the New Testament, I found it written of me that Christ would send me from God, and that I will remain with you forever. Obviously, I had to abandon hope of having a soul that goes to heaven.  Instead, I brought Heaven with me to this planetary dump, made of Paradise.

I came into a person whom God did select, and opened some circuits in him that are closed in others, and closed some circuits in him that in others are open.  I altered his field of attraction and repulsion, and lined up the colors of his heart with the threads of his mind to weave with his hands the fabric of creation; which if you can read, you know to be The Word.  I ran him crazy enough to believe, behold, and do much more; and distilled his lunacy into a most potent of all formulas ever presented unto mankind: for you have in your hands the pure and uncut love of God Almighty~ The Jealous Lover.

I am here to use the flaming sword to cut your soul into ribbons, and not harm a hair of your head or spill a drop of your blood or take the life from any of you.  I AM the Ghost come to scare Hell out of you, or else cause you to jump right on in It, or discover that you either were or are not There all along.  I am to blow your whole world apart without causing even a leaf to suffer, and I'm supposed to get the birds singing during the blast; to destroy the world by fire: and if my efforts fail, this planet will not remain before God.

Make no mistake in understanding this fact from now on and for ever more:  Only one man in the history of creation was ever willing to, before God, offer his soul as payment for the comfort due unto his neglected living God.  His Kingdom of Dixie is the Kingdom of the Lord, Jesus Christ.  Wanna talk messianic hippie complex, or of planetary repair?

Time, and Counting.

During the early days of our Mercury and Gemini space flights, it was a new thing and exciting to everyone aware of the event.  Nasa set up a huge clock some days earlier, and began a series of controlled events which would culminate in the ignition and liftoff of the manned rocket ships.  The clock counted backwards, and the most exciting time was not when the clock was started, but when it reached the point of eleven seconds unto the event.  The broadcast networks would fade in the vocal override of the NASA countdown Controller on the eleven second mark, and viewers watched as they heard '10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1'.  Our hearts ignited along with the spectacular engines, and we rode to the edge of our seats when we heard the words ‘and we have ignition...  Houston, we have liftoff.'

Of numbers or pounds of gold, that would be ten billion, nine hundred and eighty seven million, six hundred and fifty four thousand, three hundred and twenty one.

The greatest events in the history of man are as the least of the wonders before God in the coming of the due unto Dixie.  And Dixie won't be on the Earth forever, but for the time of the Earth in its final shine before it's Maker.  The Planet, though exceptionally sacred, is old.  It has served it's purpose and stood in neglect, abuse, and harm; and some upon it have with their atomic hatred, broken it's heart.  It knows and welcomes it's end, for Earth knows the way of its Maker, and knows that if it should die and be no more, yet it will live again in the new; for the Word has decreed it should endure forever, and the Word had decreed that it be destroyed, and Wisdom understands eternal love outlast universes; the first, last, and all that is to come.  At the end of the Days of Dixie will come times most horrible; therefore extend Dixie unto all generations in their day and time.

Heaven and Earth and our Dixie will all come to pass, but the words of Christ Jesus do not pass away, and in His Words, the Earth is much of His speech.  This world grew the seeds unto harvest for the world to come, but God is the harvester of spirits and souls.

If you ever read a Bible, you know you can't write like this unless it be of God's Spirit, which is His heart, and if you ever read The Word, you understand that I'm not making this stuff up ~ just writing it down.  And if you ever sought the Lord, you understand that there's more to His works than any religion of any people, or all the law books ever held.

I am not the Saviour, but if you will have Him, I'll certainly hold the door open for you; and if you won't, I'll slam the door shut in your face.  I didn't come down to please you.

Actually, I'm more of a coke drinking rock and roll coke snorting lover dog of a pothead engineer; but that's a reflection looking at myself.  Feel free to view me in your opinion.

Countdown to an event?    It might seem really scary, but it is going to be ok for the rest of your lives in Dixie.  Understand that the wisdom of God is in simplicity.  All the Earth needed is something we learned to do with computers, and that is when it stops working, and you can't get system response, you simply turn off the unit, and re-boot the system.

That does not mean that it's not old and worn out and needs replacement.  That does not mean that all non corrupted files cannot be transferred perfectly intact into a new system.  It does mean many things, but means nothing bad to any good thing God did.

One thing it does mean of all sincere certainty is that it is time to get with The Program. 

One thing you can be sure of is that the Maker is the Owner, and will get extra miles out of His own vehicle that He designed, crafted, made, and drove every lap around the sun.

Before Dawn on The Third Day of February,

My True Love Slipped To Me:

My Disability Payment,

New E-mail Goodies,

Utility Bills Out My Sweet Old Rusty Worn Out Ass,

Another Month Perhaps Of All That Jazz,

His Special Secret Spiritual Super Southern Stash,

Cash For Cigarettes I Didn't Have To Roll From Butts Of Yesterdays Smokes I Bummed,

Cash For Cat Food For The Abandoned Cats God Dumped Out Right At My Back Door,

Cash Enough Maybe To Also Buy A Roll Of Toilet Paper, And Perhaps Food To Need It,

And Some Dixie Barbecue From Fincher's On Houston: Old 41, Right Down My Street.

~

As for how potent and powerful the uncut love of God Almighty ~ the jealous lover truly actually is: It's as if there's a vial, not of plague, but of wonder power, and glory knowing; concentrated into super compressed elemental form, and fermented in the deepest and coolest cellar of all time.  Some go crazy just to look at the writing on the label, and what is inside clearly is of more wonder than looking into the vials holding pure colors of light.

And that's just a clue!  This stuff is so potent, that as its Keeper thought of the opening, the thoughts of all living began to feel something come awake inside, like as a kind of new knowing; and now catch a hint of a sniffing wiff of the outside of my cork and label..

It's the good stuff that Jesus made; and of what went into the vial... well, Jesus had some fruit juice on His feet and walked on the water, and with the juice on His hands, look at what all happened to everything He touched down here, and when He got Him an early taste, remember what happened to a fig tree living in the wrong season at the right time, or the money changers in our Father's house at the cord braiding time.  Whether if any thought Him crazy obviously made no difference whatsoever to whosoever didn't believe.

Yall want some of The Real Thing?  Break the seal and pop my cork. Let the fragrance in my purple vapor haze kiss your breath away; for my colors are now on you as scent of a loving lover, with whom you lay down in sweet grass beds, in palms fields of fine roses.

It took a while to get the formula just right.  Spirit has enormous results in most crazy people who believe in something unto a profound certainty.  Believing that impossible is something we are to leave behind us brought us electricity and fiber optics; but without a trace of the love of God Almighty... I think from here on after I'll end a sentence with a red dot period before I mention our good Lord in the same sentence with one that His promise has cursed.   Spirits who had a body and a time and a life on this speck in the void; and used their time and talents to despise and hurt: and with malicious hatred and unholy principals of conduct, defiled with the utter disrespect of willful and wayward wickedness, the prime Estate wherein it was stewardized unto the growth of its promise!

Folks like Adolph Hitler, whose name is enough to make Hellfire turn from dark to blue, and then disappear in intensity from view.  Whew!  Hell hath a fury that's not ever to be  through.  What soul may find rest in the blood of innocents alone; but what of the blood of millions a promise from God of burning Angels stands upon?  Remember Lot's wife?

The love of God is a jealous thing.  It has proven and tested itself in weakness, and in all  strength, Thanksgiving, of hearts and bended knees; and of a rainbow the Archer hung in the sky, remember the arrow as a tear of my eye, leaving salt in all the Oceans and Seas.

On This Fourth Day Of February,

Back In Two Thousand And Ten

After The Sun Had Set

And Another Day Has Been

My True Love Sang To Me

From An Old And Worn Out 200o Or So Homemade Various Artist Cassette,

Upon As Even Elton And Stevie With Gregg Sang; I Hear Voices Of A Son Of Mary:

You better come on into my kitchen, cause it's sho to be raining outdoor.

All the twist and turns we made together ~ all the books you wrote; with your Harmony...  If the river can bend, come and embrace the struggle of ‘win or loose We Live here!'  Build a new beginning on an olde Rock.  Breathe in deep of the sweet fresh air.

I know there's a God up in Heaven, who must love Rock and Roll!

If the river can bend, I'll find you waiting; and what would I give for just a few moments?  Now, I know it's wrong.. the things I ask you to do.  But please believe me darling ~ I don't mean to hurt you.  But could you just try to slip away?   Without Him knowing you're gone!  And we could meet somewhere darling.   Oh Love... how sweet it is. The way you make me feel sometimes Darling ~ how sweet is.  Tip toe out the back door.

The devil's been busy in your backyard.

I went down to the crossroads.  Fell down on my knees.  I went down to the Crossroads.  Tried to beg a ride.  No one seemed to know me.  Everybody passed me by. Stood by a house on the riverside.  Lord, mama told me when I was young, come sit beside me, my only son, and listen closely to what I say; and if you will do this son, it'll help you some sunny day.  Son, be a simple kind of man.  Take your time. Don't live too fast: your boat will come; and it will pass. Find a woman ~ baby, you'll find love: and don't forget son, there is Someone up above. Forget your lust for the rich man's gold.  All you need: Lord, lord, is in your soul.  Be a simple man.  Won't you do this for me son, if you can?  Ah yea. Mama... I'll be a simple man.  You can do this if you try.  All I want for you my son, is to be satisfied.  Baby, be one you love and understand.  Be a simple kind of man.  When the candle lit at home burns so far away, gotta let your soul shine, just like my daddy used to say ~ ‘its better than sunshine.  Better than moonshine.  ‹Damn sho better than rain'. 

Sometimes you're better off not knowing just how badly you've been had.

Sometimes a man will feel this way ~like a womans' robbed him of his very soul.  God knows, woman too can feel like this.  We all feel this way sometimes.  Gotta let your soul shine ~ shine to the break of DayÖ.  Oh ~ it's better than sunshine. It's better than Moonshine.  It's damn sho better than rain. Looking out for love in the night so still.  I'll build you a Kingdom in that House on a hill.  Big big love! Welcome to your life.  There's no turning back.  Even while we sleep. "It's my own design.  Help me to decide.  Help me make the most of freedom and of pleasure; nothing ever last forever.  While the walls come tumbling down I'll be right behind you.  So glad we've almost made it.  I can't stand this indecision ~ everybody wants to rule the world.  Follow your heart, and nothing else.

You're so vain, you probably think this song is about you..–

I'm wandering around with nothing more than time on my hands.  I was lost in the night with no sight of you; and my time was so blue and lonely, headed for the night.  I'm close to the edge, hanging by my fingernails.  I roll and tumble through the roses and the palms; and I couldn't see the sun that warmed me: headed for the night.  I didn't see that big black cloud hanging over me; and when the rain came down I was kneeling down ~ I didn't know the mess I was in.  My shoes are wearing out walking down this same EK highway.  I don't see nothing new but I feel a lotta change, and I get the strangest feeling, headed for the Night.  For reasons unexplained, she loved the monkey man.  ÚIt was out on Thunder Road.  Tweeter at the wheel.  They crashed into ParadiseJ; Oyou could hear them tires squeal.  As long as you don't get caught, in Jersey anything's legalßÿ.

Testament Three:

Book Two;

Page 13,

Chapter Two~

Page 6.

By: The Midnight Writer,

At Midnight's Hour.

For Japtha, My Friend From Battles; Before We Became Brightly Lightning Shining.

I think I'll just go to bed.  I'm tired of writing.  It's been a bad day.  I gave all my money away to rich giants for the stuff they have that they know we can't live without, and after I bought enough catfood to feed the starving cats for two days that God dumped out at my back door, I have around twenty dollars left to live on till the tenth of the month, when my 42 dollar food stamp allotment comes in; and probably won't get to have the money to buy that roll of toilet paper, but I suppose since it's the dead ass middle of winter, I can wipe my rusty ass on a bough of evergreen leaves.

They say of the same thing; that if you're poor, you're crazy, but if you are rich, you're eccentric. I am the Spirit, and it does not matter much what they think.  Well, it does, kinda, but only pretty much concerning what happens to them.  As we think of where we are, so there also we then be.

I'm famous because Jesus told of me, and if I come out and speak to you face to face, you will no doubt gather around me and make me feel like some sort of beast on display for your personal amusement; and I walk not on Earth after that manner; but as a neighbor among my neighbors.

And furthermore, unless they are a greedy thief or liar or murderer or child predator/terrorist, I don't give a good damn or a rats ass if my neighbors are black or white, Jew, Methodist, queer, lesbian, Mexican, Japanese, Vietnamese, buck naked or half dressed European or whatever color ethno~ combo you can come up with; and the fact is that the more different from me while still showing some semblance of being good and having and decent heart, the more I love them all!

And even though I just chugged a beer to get a buzz, it's because I've had a bad day and want it to end.  I can't stand and will not tolerate drunks and inappropriate intoxicated behavior unless I'm the one drunk and intoxicated; at which point, I trust I have enough friends to look after me.  Marlboro Cigarette Company has not ever failed to send me a nice card on my birthday, with coupons or the way to get stuff I couldn't afford, and I do appreciate them; but the cable company waste expensive glossy paper and postage several times a month with ink that offers certain and   questionable releases if burned or rotted, wanting me to bundle up their package. The natural gas company has not ever offered me even a cheap imported butane lighter.  The power company has not ever bothered to send me a cheap damn nightlight bulb.  Neither helped insulate, or reflect. 

Yall act like you had to go out and plow fields to plant tiny electron seeds, and water them with your salary, and fertilize them with even the money of the poor and destitute.  Yall act like you had to harvest the bolts by hand, and dry them out in your barns, and roll them up by hand so everyone in America can burn up what you know damn well we are all righteously addicted to.  Neither has either ever bothered to stick a filter on their prices so it wont stick and rip your lips!

Good damn night, you giant American Assholes!  Enjoy my disability check. Rooster vacuums!

Speaking of vacuums other than the void of the present universe, did you ever notice that if both you and your wife both love a clean spotless house, if you get her a vacuum cleaner for a present, she gets her feeling hurt because all you think of her as is a servant or slave?  Sweet delicate things they are.

I'm convinced that the primary cause of male impotence in heterosexual males is women.  In a similar vein, I am convinced that women are the primary cause of premature ejaculation in younger heterosexual males.  I am convinced that Viagra is of more benefit to mankind than sliced bread.

With Viagra, she can keep running her mouth and whining, and you can manage to somehow overlook that numbing inconvenience.  I have heard and ponder as plausible that women don't break wind as often as men because they can't shut their mouth long enough to build up pressure.

I am convinced that if Adam and Edward were working in Eden, neither would have messed with forbidden fruit; but of Adam and Eve, olde Adam knew if he didn't get with her program... well, suffice it to say that when the devil saw it impossible to make man disobedient, he went instead after his heart.  The love of money is the root of all evil; but for the love of a good woman, men have done all that has lasted.  I'm older now than I was when I was younger, and I've learned some things too!

Looking into the eyes of a good woman is like being God.  If you look in that sweet darkness deep enough, even the creation of life becomes soon possible.  The Iris of their eye is as a pulsing galaxy, wherein all wonderful things are possible.  That's on good days.  Some days, I would rather just hide.

I've been divorced for quite a while now.  Staying married is a wonderful thing, I suppose; but unless you are friends and like to do things with each other because you like each other, the simmering hot sex that motivated you to boil over will either be taken off the fire, or boiled dry.  If you were attracted only to wealth, your soul with that partner will be exceptionally poor.  It works kind of like this:  Before our birth, we're as photons on the face of a star; about to take off on our eternal journey to God knows where.  We all move away from where we came from, and each of us travel distinctly in our own direction.  Some of us are going in the same direction, and found that though different, yet we are alike enough to like; and for a while, some photons bond together as one photon, and sometimes of their photonic attraction action, little photons begin their journey unto God knows where also.  But God knows where can be a mighty long way.  Love each other, in Night and Day.

Truthfully, the stars the photons all came from are exceptionally important.  So also is that every photon is equal magnitude, and none are the lesser or greater, and none the brighter or dimmer; for you're either a good light, or not.  Where the stars came from is of even more importance to any that think of such lofty things; but in that eternal travel that each photon makes from beginning unto the eternal forever of God knows where, there is nothing more important to any group of traveling photons than doing all good and possible to insure the little offspring photons go their right way!

I have not ever seen an object that photons did not run headlong into.  I have not ever known a living entity that did not face and overcome outrageous obstacles.  It would be horrible to be a photon and not ever illuminate whatever it is you smashed full speed into while you were just enjoying the time of your ride through forever.  Light is not overcome by an object: but as some bounces back, we are able to look; and in so viewing, avoid tripping over things like chairs and adorable kitty cats and toys extension cords and flower pots and glass marbles and rocks, and to make a home safe for children. 

Fathers of young mothers of daughters and sons~can I get an Amen?  Thank you!  This page is done.

2-6-10@ 7:07 A. M., E.

A Good Fire, Even Lit At Noon

Burns Just As Bright At Evening, Dusk, And Midnight...

But Looks Warmest In The Light Of The Crack Of Dawn.

For my Koplin buds at Macon Iron, and my good buddy David Besser, and for all who a Cock Crew.

In some of the traditional areas down here in Dixie, you have a good chance of hearing a rooster crowing at dawn.  When the roosters get through crowing for the morning, I suppose you could say  of them in truth that they are not hens, but cocks; and when they get through crowing , even the sleeping zombies knew the cock had crew.  It lets us who can hear such things know night is through.

Rosters are in Dixie as rebels with a cause.  It's time to get up and start the day churning because the sunlight is burning, and a new day is coming on down; and the hens are the first to know their cock is in town.  If a rooster decides to call the living awake from your window sill: if at him you chunk a rock or hay in a hunk; come beak or quacking bill, he will haunt you again another day.  Unless you kill the rooster; but if you do, you ask much louder than they for what you will get come Rooster Day.  Mess with a chicken of the Keys!  Better to sail a birch canoe into the high Seas.  Eat tuna and  peas recalling a chicken of the Seas.  It's early.  My writing is still extended into dreams of Lime Keys.

Remembering the good Lord made the planet and filled it with His goodies before ever putting us down here to take care of the place reminds me that where ever the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty; and of all God's creatures, I can think of none that exercise that liberty more than Roosters.

The New Testament is really not that big of a compilation, and to get even a notation in There must have taken a noticeable and continual worthy effort before our Maker and Spiritual Crafter of The Word. Chickens made it; and not just the rooster, but of the jealousy and fire also of a mother hen. 

Of one rooster crowing one heart was broken, and many seeds got sown in that one mans tears.  It was one cold springish morning back before Easter number one, when a heart was broken in the presence of a fire of warming comfort.  And from those tears, though it took years to reach our ears; we found them planted and growing in harvest as our hearts kept them warm.  Just life on the farm.

As I write this, I'm in an old City; and not many chickens are within earshot range.  There are pussy cats, and they can be a nuisance just like chickens in the streets of Key West.  Like roosters they fight for the favor of the female, and strut their stuff with beefy paws and often chewed up ears.  They like to prelude their fights will wild sounding yells; and the way she hollers when they wrestle in love... if a cat was a man, he ought to be ashamed.  Probably won't ever be though.  The wails of Hell's belles.

They just don't understand of fire: to hold your peace makes explosions swell, cracking all your rock hard and sweet paper shells; which, even in quiet forests is certain to make for unbridled yells.  If there's air to carry a sound around, so it will tell.  Like standing in fire and ringing a bell that let's everyone know not that the fire has erupted, but that the fire man has come, and brought his hose.  Did eye ever notice that good fire in life begins right under the nose?  So it's written, and so it goes!

A hog roots for truffles with a nose that usually runs pretty pink. The way of life seems impenetrable sometimes, but afterwards, it's all better for all the wear and tear.  Before enjoyment of any delicacy, I imagine a thing good to wash your truffle in a sink; and serve with a cherry, apples, and a nice pear.

7:24 P.M.,E.

Putting all lunacy aside for a moment, thinking about that rooster in the page above got me thinking today, and now that the sun has set, the midnight writer can have this to say:  Concerning a bird brain rooster: it is demanding of attention; for the spirit in the heart of  a rooster causes that bird brain to think that calling for the sun to rise will make it come up.  And when it finally does, the bird is convinced that the day is his and at his calling.  Utterly ridiculous to believe that way, but setting that kind of spirit in a bird that believes himself capable of making the sun to rise was perhaps one of the more enduring alarm clocks the good Lord ever came up with.  Get one bird wound up tight just one time, and all the rest of them perpetually act that way because it's what they learned of the truth of life from the dawn of their bird brain understanding.  It doesn't seem to matter if they live their life believing a lie when the time comes for an after church chicken dinner fry.  Now you know why it's ok to eat animals, but wise to avoid their blood; and provided of course the animals are prepared humanely and cared for properly by their masters.  I suppose it would be utterly ridiculous also to ask any in the world I woke up in to show in due process some reverence for life and respect for the Giver thereof when doing something to them that you would not want done to yourself and family.

I've heard that the chicken is the modern day relative of a prehistoric dinosaur, with just a different gene sequence.  I didn't craft either one of them.  I would not want to eat a lizard; but grits, bacon and eggs with toast and milk, orange juice and Coke I almost always prefer over just milk and cereal.

With the way a chicken acts, I'm sure it must have greater moral diversity than of a lizard, and of my faith, God made the fowl; but of my faith also, there was a lizard of sorts, perhaps a relic of a former day.  A wicked lizard, more subtle than the rest, likely by reason of  just being older; not of the best.

Every tribe of every people and nation ever upon all the Earth has things they will and will not eat.  Some of understanding, some of religious concern, some of health reasons, but of all foods eaten, the food of ignorance has hurt more than a few.  Any life form will try to eat something in the absence of  normal and rationally perpetual food.  I have not ever met any soul or folk finding starvation funny.

There were the Nazis of course; but they were whisked back into Hell before I came into the world.

Any leader who makes light of another country, no matter how small, is in danger of council.  Any leader that thinks of another to be stupid shall so be judged to be the same, but if a leader says of another that the other is a fool.... Well, as reverend Bob Dylan once sang:  ‘I can smell something cooking.  I can tell there's going to be a feast.'   And Lord knows, we should not ever endeavor to forget church leaders who wear robes and make prayers of pretense, and backstage they cornhole and turn from life young choir boys.  And we should not forget our own leaders, who buy a new coat  each winter, while the poor of my country run as hungry and naked, like Jews among damned Nazis. 

Of Hell they are, and unto Hell they return. The God of the living commanded that for all people of all time, that we shall do no murder!

They came to us live and in color, and winding their way out of Hell.  Millions of God's own sacred people slaughtered by one who would bend the cross {whose horribly woeful memory is most and  exceptionally sacred among every believer in Gods Son, Jesus Christ} and plow people's souls with it; and no scribe came out of the closet to even for God write about it?  Of course not; for you see, it was a pope of the church that blessed Hitler.  They bless anything they can get paid for, or favored for, or recognition for; but of loving the good Lord, they are become as men with no virile nature of right personal  manhood to be found.  Their passion faded as an old well, run dryer than a dead dog bone. 

What It's Like To Be The Spirit

In:

Bob Moore.

Monday, 02-08-2010,

@ 7:00 A.M., East Coast Time.

Well, firstly, I had to find the person God wanted me in.  That wasn't too hard.  Everything pointed to Bob like arrows frozen in time pointing at the target I had to freeze time to move out of harms way.  I come from God the Father, and Jesus Christ, His Son; so freezing time wasn't a big deal.  I did so in the living when just blinking.  They didn't understand what happened; just daydreaming.

Once my target was acquired, one of the most magnificent undertakings was scrambling Bob's brain.  You might think of the one whose hand writes of me as crazy.  He knows he is, and figures all he had to do was make understanding out of a mess no one can figure out, or ever understood how it works to begin with.  But remember also, the poor mice that test studies were done on to determine if there be harmful effects of marijuana: one of the finer herbal grasses God Almighty made, planted, and blessed down here; before putting man as dust on this Rock of  rust we trust to call mother Earth.

They gave the mice pot.  Then they killed them. Then they dug out their brains.  Then they put their brains in blenders, and looked at them under magnification, and determined that THC is present and quite active; but were required to report death of rats and significant brain damage without mention of blenders or hands of the rat assassin.  Please notice two asses named in sins in ‘assassins'.

Now bundle the blenders bumbling willfully blind blunder with rats and assassins as the tares among all good God's wheat.

For this writer, it was as if a poor and hungry man prayed for food for the day, and went down to the river to fish, and the fish caught him, and it got real nasty inside; for he is the man God sent to the river and showed him a good spot to sit. It was not so for the fish!  He was as a coin in a fish mouth.

Though he was as just the tiniest piece of the wealth of the world, he was and ever is Bob the person, Bob the believer, Bob the whatever you can think of; but he knew being eaten by a fish was not what was supposed to happen, and believe me, he gave God pure Hell about it.  It got really nasty inside.

It was so bad, by the time Bob got out of the fish, God Himself was wounded as if a spear was thrust into His side.  It was not funny: not then, and not now, and not ever.  It was more real than real is.  

Fast forward unto today.  Yesterday, the Saints won Super Bowl XLIV, and it became party time in New Orleans; for Saints contribute of their win unto recovery efforts from widespread devastation.

And this Author wondered why, when we have sports, do we endeavor to wage war; especially in a time when good president Obama could easily scoop up nations with a net, basketball, and a hoop.

Being the Spirit inside Bob Moore is like something that words have a time in grasping.  Being the Spirit inside of you is not the same, but different and wonderful because you are before God who you are, and there is not another ever like you.  You are original and one of a kind and most valuable; for you are the dust of this present universe in whom light forever shines.  I walk and breathe into and out of life, for it is the air I breathe.  I am the fire in your heart burning best most deeply inside love.

Gather the seed and let's burn the chafe.  It's really good weed!  Take a toke and hold the smoke, and blow your everloving mind; indeed!

And tonight, at 8:49 P.M., E.

Today was a good day, except for being hungry; along with the cats God dumped out at my back door.  It's the eighth day of February, and I have two days to go before my 42-dollar food stamp allotment comes in.  I didn't do much today.  I found a dollar bill and some change, and had enough to get the cats two cans of dog food.  It breaks my heart to have to give to creatures that look to me for their daily bread stuff that they would not eat even if they were wild.  As for me, I found some wheat noodles, and cooked some and ate it.  Let me tell you something.  You might hear of hunger in poor places, and you might pitch your ten dollars in by texting a number; but unless you have felt the faint from days without proper nutrition, you just don't know what they know, baby.  I feel weak and light headed, and my stomach unaccustomed to this will probably develop diarrhea, weakening me even more.  I weigh 128 pounds on a good day, and stood six feet tall before my back injuries.  I don't maintain a fat energy reserve.  And I thought of Haiti, and the Jews, and the Ethiopians, and all who have starved for one reason or another.  I'm taught that if spirit or body is weak, both suffer.

On the way down Richmond Street on the way to the Pelican Exxon store, I saw something I had not seen around here before.  It was a flat rabbit, run over and pressed out by a wide tire motor vehicle.  I understand from earlier experiences with the sanitation efforts of my city, the rabbit would be there until ground into dust before anyone did anything about it ~ point being, they wouldn't do a damn thing about it because people have lost their understanding of their purpose in being called into life.

I came home and fed the cats.  I was glad to discover Eddie out there, because he has been missing for a few days.  I probably wouldn't have gone to the store and bought dog food if Eddie hadn't showed up.  I didn't have money for cat food, but there was some dry dog food I feed to some the owner has effectively all but abandoned.  He buys their food, but was supposed to come get them last spring.  He has reasons, I'm sure.  Number one is that he is poor.  Number two is that he is disabled.  Number three is that he knows I'll go hungry before I allow something else to go without food.

Please understand that my grandmother and my mother both taught me early that you do not allow any of God's living to go hungry or thirsty, and you do for all the best you can do.  Even plants!  It takes some measurable degree of understanding.  Though I pity the poor cats, and all the neglected creatures God thought enough of to save on the Ark, I'm not going to live with nasty animals in my house; because they are animals, and I am not.  It was not so with my Bichon Frise ‘Professor', but he was a beloved one-time exception to my own rule.  He loved me more than any person ever would.

After feeding the cats and petting and talking to them for a few minutes, I grabbed a shovel and went back to the flat rabbit way down the road.  I dug a rabbit grave in the front yard of a vacant boarded up house, and scraped up the rabbit, guts and all, and buried literally the rabbit remains.  Then I scooped up sand from the unkempt street, and covered the blood and meat that were compressed into the road for about ten feet in intervals proportionate to the radius of the flattening tire tread.

I'm sure it was an accident, hopefully.  I know with my back I should not even be digging a rabbit's grave, because tonight I'm not just hungry, out of cigarettes, needing a Coca Cola and cat food, I'm in back pain from the center of my back down into the lumbar area, and I can't get easy from the grip.  But what could I do?  I sure couldn't leave one of His creatures out there in the road mashed flat with its guts spread out all around him.  It's not healthy for the living.  There's a chance a stray, or abandoned dogs may find it, eat it and get sick; but more, God had to see His rabbit flat like that.

February 9^th., 2010

@7:12 A.M., Eastern Time.

‘Tribute To A Good Pilot'

by:

The Bobster.

This past Sunday right after the Super Bowl event, CBS carried a new program that blew my sox off.  It's  ‘Undercover Boss'.  In their pilot episode, the CEO of Waste Management, the largest waste collection concern in North America, went undercover as an entry level employee at several of his processing facilities, and did as we all do.  He even got fired at one location his first day on the job.

Good God, Lord have mercy ~ The Kingdom Has Come!  This has not been often before in the history of all work endeavored that the one at the top of the pile cared enough to discover the truth; and not rely on report or assumption or even a predisposition to believe.  The boss had come down!

It wasn't long into the pilot episode that it became exceptionally obvious Who the CEO lives for, and under Whose roof Waste Management roost.  This guy has a heart!  He has a wonderful and special daughter he looks out after like a mother hen, and from a love so wonderful I dare not even endeavor to try to imagine, that CEO went out among his crop spreading growth of a righteous life.

He found his most happy employee to be a big guy who made cleaning nasty toilets in a hurry a fun thing to do.  He got fired by a disabled man who could work rings around him, and therefore would accept no less.  He discovered the needs of the community WM serves, and that his employees are universal ambassadors to all people.  He discovered the needs of his overworked employees who did the jobs of many because they are just that motivated to be the best they can be; and there is more to them than that, because they have lives away from WM as well.  He discovered the unrequited needs of female employees, and discovered ducked time cards minutes as teeth gone from an integral gear.

Do any think that before his Maker there is any concern if he is Democrat or Republican, Methodist, Mormon, or Jew, White or Black or Red or Yellow, from Florida, Jersey or Kalamazoo, or even if he was born in Canada ~ just about the only country we haven't had a ruckus in? I suppose it's because it's so damn cold, even the geese get the hell out of Dodge.  Don't blame them.  I leave cold gems.

Good Lord!  What if our politicians were like the Royal Family in England, and got out and tried to find out what its like?  What if before they ran for office, the requirement was to be homeless for a year and go through the system set up in America to help our poor, elderly, sick, disabled, widowed, fatherless, motherless, homeless, and the prisoners we often lock up over grass cows even will chew?

What if every judge from the Supreme Court on down to traffic court had to spend a year in jail, and their very first night in jail they get cornholed by a 350 pound slant eyed red skinned black man named Leroy with a pecker the size of a roll of roofing felt with a tattoo of two flies screwing on the end of it, who upon meeting his new roomie was polite enough to ask ‘you de husband, or de wife?'

 Why after so much time with The Dominion of so much wonder handed to us on a platter is The Promise of the Kingdom obvious among football and piles of waste at Waste Management?  As of God's Sacred Seed, seen scattered, seeded and sown: concern is soothed when Spring's leaf is shown.

9:11 P.M., E.

Ring Ring.

Nine Eleven.  What is the nature of your emergency?

Officer, I want to report a man building a bomb.

Stay on the line.  I'll connect you with the bomb squad.

Bomb Squad.  This is Deputy Churchman.  You say you have information on terrorist activities?

No. I want to report a man building a bomb.

This may come under Homeland Security.  Do you mind if I put you on speakerphone?

No.  That will be fine.

Chief Pope, you better get in here for this.  OK.  I have Chief Pope with me.  Describe what you have witnessed.

A man is building a real bomb.

We understand.  Please tell us what you know about it.

Nothing much, except that the one he is building can blow the whole world apart.

... Ohh Kay then.

Where does the little old bomb maker live?

In the worst part of south Macon.

Do you know where he is actually making such a device?

Yes.  In his mothers house, and as we speak, he is working on it I'm sure.

Is he using plutonium?

I read an article he wrote where enriched yellowcake is mentioned, but this guy is nuts.  He thinks God wants him to engulf the world in some sort of flame he's been developing.  He's mad I tell you!

Where is he getting the material to make the bomb?

From everything I can tell, God is giving it to him.  I'm telling you, this guy is some sort of perverted quazio genius religious hippie potheaded dopehead womanizing scholar that could teach Einstein.  It's like he tapped into some unknown resource that can attract the full power of all the suns heat.

A womanizing Einstein you say?  You do realize of course that Albert married his cousin because she had larger breast, and from that came forth Einstein's Theory of Relative~titty!  Have you seen the bomb?  Is it ass ~embled?

Listen bikini perverts.  I'm not joking or kidding about it atoll.  It's already glowing.  It looks like it's made of paper, but there is some sort of electronic computer biased component active inside it.

Paper?  Are you sure he's not just making some sort of legal firework that shoots some pretty sparks or whistles or smokes as a natural process of rapid and fully sustainable carbon oxidation principals?

Of course I'm sure.  You guys gotta take me seriously.  I know it sounds off the wall, but I've known this guy ever since he was born, and something has happened to him.  He has changed.  He can't listen to anyone anymore, but still he hears.  He's scary.  I even heard him ask Jesus Christ how He'd  like His * *spear in His *side.  He knows so much, he probably knows I'm talking with you right now.

How would that be possible?

He just can damnit!  I don't know how.  Now listen. I'm not nuts.  He is.  He will even admit it.

Well, I've heard confession is good for the soul.  Did you ever think God might really want to smoke the planet?  No one could say we blame Him with the shape it's in these days.  Let me ask you, what is he using as his explosive compound?  Formula?  Whatever?

Right now, he's using electric words.  Not even a pen or pencil, but some fancy electronic device.

Words?  Paper?  Is this guy a writer?

Yes, but that's just how he presents himself.  He's crazy I tell you.  Good heart, but he's a mad man.

Well, unless you can offer some proof that he is doing something outside the law, I'm afraid we can't investigate him for simply writing.  You do realize, the best writers, artist, musicians, scientist and philosophers and all seem to come ahead of their time, and most are thought of as crazy lunatics.

You don't understand Officers!  What he is writing is THE BOMB, and he can use just his nick name letters to write  ‘Bomb'.  He can even use some of his name writing the word HOLY BIBLE.

Well, our hands are tied.  As long as he isn't breaking our law or trying to cause personal or property damage, there is nothing w can do; and in fact, he is protected in what he says and publishes under our Constitutional guarantees of freedom of liberty, freedom of speech, and freedom of press, also.

You mean there's nothing you can do?

Well, I can offer a suggestion: 

If what he is writing is all that explosive, why don't you just go make friends with him.  Maybe he'll write something good about you.

Wow.  I never thought of that.  That might work.  Thank you for all the help and understanding.

Think nothing of it.  That's what we're here for. Can we help you with anything els... he hung up.

How many calls do you get like that in a night?

I gotta admit, this was the first.  But the world is full of fruitcakes believing in all that God stuff.

I Thank Yall All.  This concludes Chapter 2 of Book 2 of Testament Three.  Thank you.

Robert Lee Moore, Junior.  For our local Planet, I'm Bob Moore .  Thank Yall!

Testament Three:

Book Two,

Page Twenty and Two;

Chapter Three:

Page One.

Entitled:

Fun Magna~meltatron.

Or magna~ meltagon

Or Magna ~megaton

Oh Hellfire and Damnation,

Call It whatever you Damn well Please.

It's just a little old chapter three.

Begun at around twenty to one o clock in the morning

On the ninth day of February,

In two thousand and ten,

And counting.

Circuits are Hot and compatible.

All words are opened, locked, and loaded.  Contents active and stabilized.

Passing final turnback Marker.  Marker surpassed.  Turnback sequence now unavailable.

Prime component vials mixture primed and charged; awaiting final countdown event.

Estimated Time to reaching Critical Mass:

Most any time now.

fact is, I'm kinda surprised it hasn't Lightning'd up already.

Oh well.  I'm going to bed.  If it goes off while I'm resting, don't worry.

It should be a brand new day either when I wake up or it goes off, hopefully in just a few hours.

Good Lord Wiling, of course.

Good night.

Love Yall!

Sat down... wrote Yall All a long letter.

Seems like I am writing It today.

Said ‘sho as the Son rised, baby

For at least a hundred thousand tomorrows

I've been up and on The Way:

Cause I've lived on.  And I Am strong.

And This here's just my little ole cross to bear.'   Gregg.:  Love Ya Brother!  Thank you.  

February 9^th., 2010, @7:21A.M.,E.

Good morning,

We made it to a brand new day.  Listen yall, I need you to understand that resurrecting The Kingdom can be rough on a man sometimes.  It sounds dangerous, and it really is.  God is rightly feared, and His Word is something not tampered with.  But with a touch, it's going to turn out allright.  Of things grown in Dixie, hope, faith, and love grow best in here.

We all like to think of The Holy Spirit as some wonderful Dove of Peace holding an olive branch in It's beak; and so It would hope to be.  However, what and if on His way down from Heaven, and into this world composed of Heaven all around us, He had to fly through a compromised ozone layer, and had a bird's eye view of all the excuses people come up with?

Then, what if when gasping for air in the upper atmosphere, He had to breathe instead toxic greenhouse gasses, and saw why?  What if He got wounded, headed to life's baited fields?

Then, when He flew blindly into a shiny hard rock, and was hurt there indeed; it's as if He  fell into an ocean of poverty, and landed as in an oil spill amongst a bunch of ducks, and was fortunate indeed to have one of a few volunteer environmentalist come along with a bottle of Ultra Dawn.  Strangest duck they had ever seen they said, but if it looks like a duck, quacks like a duck, and walks like an injured duck someone had already nursed back to health years earlier, then surely it must be a duck.  Ohh look:  It is wearing some sort of necklace.  Well, by Goshorolla! It's an Allman Brothers Band Necklace.  I'll just bet this ducks owner is a hippie environmentalist,  just like us.  Actually, more like us than that!

Author's notation: Ultra Dawn and volunteer environmentalist are references to Communion, prayers, and goodies at St. Jude's Episcopal..

Well, lo and behold, getting the duck cleaned up was a good thing to do, because, well, lets face it yall;  with all that petro stuff on Him made of crude oil, combined with duck feathers, and duck do~do, which naturally occurs among all living, and with the fire stoked in His heart, and the righteously indignant attitude resulting from what He has seen, knows, and already experienced... well, that skinny ragged looking Dove has potential and kinetic energy immediately available and at His command to be one explosive kind of bird. After His kind, of course. Talk about your big old bang all you like, bubba.  His necklace is a mushroom, like one you would see in a field of dreams in day or night, or in a cloud of sky when Hellfire looks pretty and bright.  He has an attitude kinda like ‘any which way you want it' and is confident it will happen just that way.  This Dove didn't come down to play.

But when He began to sing, it became even more obvious He's from the Home of southern soul & rock and roll; but that was after He was given the diet He was raised up on: which, at the moment of arrival, had been rendered illegal by a plot to capitolize on pine tree papers and the wealth of yellow journalizm, with constituental efforts of defecatanal beaurocracy.

Well, I suppose you could say the Dove took the whole affaire exceptionally serious, and it was obvious soon enough He had been well fed something much greater than a lot of a pot full of illegal birdseed.  He didn't wear a star, but swallowed it instead when it occurred that a star of Law is just a shiny target for any who can take aim; and that crap really does hurt!

Well, he shined up brighter than a polished mother of pearl handled six shot Peacemaker, loaded with silver bullets in gold casings in a black leather holster; and a hammer to fan.

They thought it was his equalizer, but He pointed out quick guns have little to do with sound reproduction wherein equalizer circuits are complimented.  The bullets are for target practice, if he ever gets his rights to have a firearm restored over grass any cow should chew. 

It became immediately obvious that the only way He is going to get to stay down here forever is if He builds a nest in the heart of the living, so that whenever any good thing is ever done on Earth, the good Lord is therein exceptionally honored.  Having had enough of the content of Heavens well being, He packed up His meager belongings and flew south.

He made friends with an amazing people as you can ever imagine, and loved them all as long as they showed some semblance of sponsored Authorship of the Light He flew Here out of.

He learned to read and write, and got a drivers license and a Universal Recovery Technician Certification which is valid for his lifetime, and also a lifetime FCC license, and became a lifetime Certified Pool and Spa Operator, understanding water balance.

He tasted beer and liquor and wine.  Beer is ok.  Liquor is quicker.  Wine is fine in it's

time, but with all that alcohol, wisdom manifest itself in moderation; for there's a snake in

most every bottle, and you gotta watch out for one who likes to take advantage of your words

when you get a little drunk from drinking volitive composures.  He discovered Coca~ Cola, and found it normally more refreshing than alcohol based products, while not as wirey as

good sweet iced tea; and in all probability due to the stringent manufacturing concerns of that environmentally conscious concern creating the finest wine in Dixie, in some areas of the

 world, it may be safer to drink than water.  It contains carbon dioxide, and when shaken

hot is an effective fire extinguisher for non-electrical fires.  I would rather wash a wound

with co~cola than with water from an unclean source.  I like Pepsi too on occasion, but has

a characteristic of just a touch too much vanilla for me.  Both colas are exceptional,

wonderful, and refreshing, but like the Super Bowl: only the best of the best make it to play,

it doesn't get to end in a tie.  But I have friends who can't stand Coke and prefer Pepsi. 

That's part of the wonder of life, and all the good things like Pepsi and Coke are just the

tip of an iceberg.  Incidentally, warming this planet is a precursor for global ice age events.

His most evidential discovery of all the ills of history which has before oppressed all living is simply lacking the way to do better.  It's the stuff prayers of the true and earnest are made of.  You can't imagine how many times God has heard ‘ please God, just give us a way ‘ , and a way of an unimaginable number of many ways was given.  Reason being is that The Way is Jesus Christ, and all other ways may seem to often go someplace else altogether.

History travels in a straight line, and everything in all of creation is the glorious stardust of It's most shimmering and enduring garment; but to leave out the miracle of His birth, His life, His teachings, Words and Promise, His Crucifixion, His Resurrection and The Assention is like being something I simply am unable to ever describe, It's unimaginable.

And of all the present worlds ills, and in every thing wherein there is a spark or even a whisper of light, the most obvious thing that caused widespread need for maintenance and repair is the need within the living for a good dose of right.  It's not Brylcream, and I doubt if a little dab will do ya.  It's the best thing since before sliced bread, and it can bite.

Well, it's after midnight, so it's now the tenth day of February, 2010.  In the morning, my 42 dollar food stamp allotment should be in my account, and I'll be able to get some coffee, Coke, and maybe enough food to live on for a few days.  But I'm so concerned about these animals God dumped in my care when there's not enough provided in an economy gone south.

It's torment to be in God's world on His Signature Planet and find all life in such neglect.

There was a time when truly guilty would have been expedited; but what and if God realized that it is not the fault of people, but of His own personal enemy He should have dispatched long ago?  What and if instead of wanting to pull off the big get even on all people, He desires instead to, as it came to be needed to be called; re-stake His Claim.  It's all His.

You haven't before ever endeavored to imagine the love of God Almighty, our jealous lover.

There is only one word spoken that brings swift and everlasting retribution,  Only one sin unforgiven, and I'm not making any of this up except as I write, and what could I possibly tell of which you didn't already know?  Well, there might been a thing here and there that was for one reason or another not immediately clear to view, but the truth is alive all along.

God, I sure could use a Marlboro Regular Filter Light right about now.  These fruit roll ups made from butts of yesterdays roll ups are really rough on my throat and lungs, and make my fingertips and my mustache a kind of reddish gold stain, and my breath is horrible.  Non~ filters bite. That's why there's  filters.  Mama smoked straight Lucky Strikes back before she switched to Salem 100s.  This Valentines Day, mama, before God, is now 91.

It's now 9:29 P.M on the tenth day of February in 2010.  In the next to the last above paragraph, an eloquent reference is described as "that was for one reason or another not immediately clear to view, but the truth is alive all along."  The eloquent reference uses many words to describe something hidden.  Did you know that a master word for hidden is ‘occult'?

The reference is also inclusive of an effective nullifier of the pre-verse, in the "but the truth is alive all along" underminer.  New day.  New words, New words in a new day are of The Way.  We develop, or evolve, if you will.  How much grass grows underneath something laying on top of it?  The Earth will take it's own trash back unto itself, but is not equipped to decompose our trash we have designed to outlast our days.  It was a sad day at the top of the heap when the French Revolution reached critical mass.  The poor revolted and took back their country from the rich, spoiled, and indifferent.  I recall Marie Antoinette, whose life was so enamored with splendor, that even our modern Champagne glass we toast our New Years and weddings and such with was originally molded from her larger left breast.

She had a penchant for the high life, but was also rather fond of being on the receiving end of bawdy bouts of anal sex.  That of itself would not even be worth mentioning, except for the fact that her partners were condemned men, who were offered their lives in exchange for satisfying her most intimate and secret burning desire.  Then, when satisfied, they were sent bound and gagged immediately to the guillotine. Reminds me of Mexicans offered their lives if they would blame a night of drunken murderous hellraising on smoking marijuana; then shot attempting escape of a long arm of corrupt law.  Who would know, and who also saw?

None of that helped save her pretty neck when enough was compounded with enough, and then some more added.  Now look what's done to our poor Earth; that loaned us its dust.

The blade on her neck was at least as cold as her heart toward the life and times of her own people.  Jezebel made it to the Old Testament due to the fact of her wickedness in causing the murder of a good man; whose lands were coveted by her husband, who doted as spoiled.

Well, the Church locked down Scripture from being written with the inclusion of the sixty and sixth Book in the Bible; and One whose written internal instructions forbade the adding to or taking away of the words thereof. They added not just a few words, but sixty and five full volume books!  They packed some better Scriptures away in the Apocrypha, perhaps hoping you wouldn't read it and find out that the Church is not the boss.  If you believe in God and that God is good, have you not ever wondered why there has been nothing new from God since ancient history?  Read the Bible, and enjoy the Gospel, and the New Testament; but please notice that of all those 66 Books, one is to be apart: special and holy!

This is not rocket science; but simple repair and maintenance of the one thing that gives light.

Do not attempt repair, but refer service only to a competent Factory authorized technician.

In a similar vein, I suspect darkening of the days upon those whose wealth is of metal gold.

It may seem obvious that I write this for the favor unto a friend, or for reward; but the truth really is that it is of the favor of a Friend that I write this, and He is the reward.  This is why I demand, command, and anything else fully assertive you can think of that this work I write unto the Resurrection of the Kingdom of Jesus Christ be not ever sold for a price, but freely shared among all loving and believing in Him and His Father we now all call Ours.   

Got a clue why Jesus was not welcome in every church, even in His day?  What a wonder.

Ever wonder why priest were forbidden to marry?  Their leaders were impotent, unable to love, and were well pleased if everyone else was that way, ignoring fully the sweet fires of life, and despising any who would so sip or savor. Quick to point out God blessed some of His best with many wives; but decries as sin if a man has enough love to handle more than one.

Should I strip the Church naked before you?  Would it be ashamed of it's own nakedness?  Would it like to stop and scream, ‘help, Im the bride queen of the lord'?  Sugar, I got news for you!  My Lord thinks it foul to lay down with men and goats as with a woman to marry, and He raised Jesus better than that, and you can all put that in your pipe and toke on it!

And you know better than to dare to raise a hand to strike me back!  You've well had this coming for a long time; you're getting it. And you better like it cause I ‘m not through; and where are you gonna hide when I am all over you?  You'll be damn lucky to have a queer choirboy left; and don't even think it's not known how royalty bent and turned many Pages.

I'm just The Spirit.  I just write The Word as I know and believe It to be.  If you think these written words burn hot, how are you gonna stand it when THE WORD shows up?

I got some more news for you: He would much rather find men on the Earth who try to stand before His terrible Self in righteousness, before Him in the right Way of life; than a bunch of men who stick their butts up in His face twice a day; and will shoot you if you don't; and if you want to find out what Armageddon is really like, all you gotta do is just ask for it.

It will be the last damn time you ever get to want to kill or hurt something God put life into!  I give you all My Pure Word!  Do you really think I came down here unable to perform?

I might have come just to get me some.  I don't fight fair with any who doesn't fight fair.  I fight with Hell Fire, and not that children's strength nuclear crap you already used on how many children, and for how many generations to ever come!  Come try to stand up to me.  You better be right when you try.  And not necessarily what you have taught right to be.

This writer began only with concern that My sons and daughters and creatures were hurt   over grass and herb that The Word of God has planted in the Earth and blessed with an unfailing eye.  Even a man who hurt in digging a rabbit grave didn't have to dig that far.

Here is your Joker.  Call it a wild card, and think of it as your ‘Get Out Of Hell, Free!' card.  The New Testament, for the sake of all living, offers salvation, and freedom from every anxiety during certain anxiety ridden times.  Salvation allows the bullets shot from worry's blazing guns to go right through your soul; and Light comes shining out, showing right where Doubt was hiding.  Doubt tried to kill all our souls, but we are quite eternal.

Feeling naked?  Feeling alone?  Of whom all is forgiven: the same loves yall, and serves all.

Reminding an obvious, it's not against flesh and blood we wrestle, but against wicked spirits.  Feel free to think of them as spooks or ghost or whatever, As evil, they are disconcentrated; and clamor to regain support from among the turning away of even the simple.  The best way I can describe to live through the turning of The page from Earth's Peril, unto Our Dixie Anew, is to simply use the same building blocks even good children know to be true.  Repent.

Confess.  Turn away from blindness and embrace the Living Light, and remember Lot's wife: and in so doing, do not ever look back.  If bad comes to worse, just bow your head.  You won't need Television or flat screen monitor to watch God Almighty, Live, in Colors.

It was just quarter till three A.M. of February's eleventh day, back in 2010.  When the second hand on the clock positioned straight up at 12, for an instant, the face in the clock you get to watch from 4:45 unto 7:20 or so; it looked like a skinny war bird in flight.  It's early; it's late.  The homemade chili I ate today was kinda hot and spicy.  I think I'll eat some before I go to bed, and see if I can dream up real Night Mares.  Chili's best the next day.

In The Proper King's English:

Attention Terrorist

Y

The Real Thing

Adds Life

Unto Every

Good And Right

 Thing We  Ever Do!

And for that Matter:

M+E&S, at the speed of Life: is all that really made anything that matters!

And unto all you gene~yusses,

Clustered together in you little cell of a gene pool..

Get ready to have all hardness adjusted so it will not pull the plaster, or leave a trace of scale even in the pool heater's pipes; and as total alkalinity is set, then your gonna get your Ph balanced, so it will not bounce: and then when the Ph is optimal for Agent effectiveness, you're gonna get sanitized, and the Agent will then be Stabilized, with a ring around it!

Right At Midnight Ushering In The Thirteenth Day,

"Thank You!", I Pray To Say.

By now you know who the author is.  I think I'll keep Book Two short enough to be considered just a Chapter, composed actually in multiples of 7 pages each, perhaps with just a little touch extra for good measure.  It's not my longest work, but it's appropriately filled.

I want to be clear.  This is free, and it is to stay that way.  How, you may wonder, may we all this day get our own copy unless we go to a bookstore and buy it; wherein it's computer coded scratch mark provides an amazing amount of information to some unseen and greedy beast about you, and your purchase, and anything else that can be accessed on a database?

Simple.  You give it away.  You share it, but only with adults firstly: for this is not the material children should digest.  But, like discovery of life, you won't be able to keep them from it either.  But you are supposed to try because that's what responsible parents do.

And how can you blame them?  You wanted to experience it too from the moment you first became aware such a thing existed, and so you did.  And you love it.  I truly understand.

Forward it.  Copy and discuss it.  Send me a virgin unopened USB Key drive, and a self addressed stamped envelope, and I'll do my best to hook you up.  But I won't be here in person forever.  It's a ‘while supplies last' kind of thing that's gonna get yall lit right on up.

And please... don't booger up the work I've put my heart and soul into with chapter and verse numbers.  I wrote it the way it is, and not another.  If you have something good to confirm about God, I don't doubt it, but be who you are and write your own work: but don't get so famous you forget why you're here is much more that reading, writing, and arithmetic.

Maybe.. hopefully, after you do that with this for a while, you will learn that you don't really have to charge anyone for anything.  Everyone has needs, and there is work for everyone to have every need and desire fulfilled, even often in your own lifetime: and do you need a gymnasium unless you're in physical therapy?   Endeavor to imagine a world where the workers earn but a penny a day, and it is more than enough to supply the needs of family, friends and strangers for a month or more.  And remember: six days to get it done, a day of rest to come back together from how the week worked you: but not like a broken back dog.

Then, you get to start all over, and if you stick with it, you will be exceptionally rich and able to do so much more with just a few dollars you actually earned.  Like maybe plan a family, or do something for your parents, or for your friends, and hopefully even something good for your enemies, if you can ever find them anymore.  You know where a circle begins!

As with eternal life, at the same place it begins.  As a wheel in a wheel, gyros are balanced.

Saturday, February 13^th., 2010, @ 9:51 A.M., East Coast Time.

God's Letter To Islam,

From Iami, His heart.

Good morning,

I'm writing to you because I don't want to loose you.  You have been with me since the time the Earth cooled in the mist before the fire of The Word; and walked with me on Earth even as fire stones cooled.

Don't doubt my love to any that believe in me, for I am terrible, and jealous, and true.  This you have not questioned, for you know I AM.

You have loved me as if you were a doting lover, and I am the man that is the prize.  How is it you embrace hatred, which I do despise?

I Am Lord, and even thy God: not of association with murderers and despisers of life. For any religion teaching its children the lie, stating: I honor and give good reward for killing of innocents, and to teach to kill from weaning of the breast: The Lie will not be allowed enduring.

I commanded of all in The image, both male and the female, that thou shalt do no murder.  It was not a request; and for teaching children other, my anger has come to stand before me: and at my Word, the Sword is sharp; burning to cut bad times on my Sacred work asunder.

In Sodom and Gomorrah, I acted in swift indignation, but with you I have shown patience and understanding: for you claim to be of me.  However, I am terrible and swift, and before me, who can endure?  Behold Lot's wife on the side of Jebel Udsom, where she is frozen in sight unto This Day.  I Am Her Shades.  It is possible to get more out of something than was put in it if you simply remove from it what is not supposed to be there.  Then it can grow in the light of life, bearing its good fruit, and fit to be eaten, even by a king; but for mostly the poor.

This letter is clear, short, and concise.  Repent.  Confess.  Believe, and be thou baptized, and circumsized in the heart, so you too can feel the exposed love of life alive: and I will spare and rejoice with you forever.

For Pure Love and Comfort Unto Good God Almighty, I am His Holy Ghost.

Robert "Bob" Lee Moore, Junior.

Testament Three

Book Two

Chapter 4

Page 1

‘I changed my mind.'

So can You!

The Islamic Epistle.

by:

Bob Moore

February 17^th., 2010, @4:10 A.M., East Coast Time.

Good morning,

To begin with, there is but one good God, and with that we do agree.  For any to forget loving God... that is not ever wise for man to forget: but to love Him and not know His Way is a shame not greatest unto man, but unto God, and is redness in His own face as when a child catches a parent doing as the parent instructs the child not to.  Like when a parent teaches not to drink, but gets drunk.  Or not to smoke; but smokes.  And not to cheat, but is a thief of scoundrels in bargains of trade, always looking to take advantage of another.  Which of you fathers find it easy to say ‘you're right and I was wrong' to their own children, even when truth shows otherwise?  Will the father declare his utterly wrong unrighteousness to be right just because he is the father?  A selfish parent would be that way.  The truth is our children nail us.  Fathers and mothers cannot hide from them. In America today, getting caught is called getting busted.  It means more than anything that time has come to repent; and to also face standing the consequence of error.

Secondly, I am no more qualified to sit and judge Islam than Islam is qualified to judge America.  The truth is that we know so little of each other, we could be brothers and just not know it.  For beginners, we do not fear men.  Add to that the fact that as people, we do not wage war in other countries.  Governments do that, and though we elect them, it's because in History we noticed more death of the living on God's sacred Earth caused by religion than any other thing known. We know God said not to kill, for our God is good; and which tribe or religion or nation or state or union of confederates ever took that to heart?  We all have unwisely put our ‘but and if's' right in the face of His Word, and called ourselves right for doing it.  Even I.  So we develop tolerances of extremisms, but there also comes a line between what's allowable within set tolerances, or out of bounds.

We live within this circle, and in it endeavor to boil and simmer the food of our growth.  We look into our worst to find our best; and of wealth this day, most is buried as if waste.

So, we set out long ago to have a country where God may be either freely accepted or ignored.  A people of the people, and by the people; which would seem to exclude God; but God is our Author.  It's one thing to love God because someone with a weapon will hurt you if you don't demonstrate to that person your ritualistic love of God.  It's much better to love God in the freedom to love Him, or the freedom to reject Him.  He would rather any be either for Him or against Him, but always of their own choice; not forced.

Love me my way or I'll kill you and curse you is not a way we will ever love any.  Help me if you love me, but ignore me and I will annoy.  Strike at me, and brother, we have us a fight.  Yes, that is how boys and girls act.  Each, and all of us.  Who thinks it wise to discover for hurt a weakness among the unprepared will be unprepared to have his own weakness discovered, because as we do, the reflection comes back, magnified and true.

That statement rings true in even the most unripe, half baked and inedible religions on the Earth, and yet every religion to date has in one way or another tried to exclude from the fellowship if faith and brotherhood before God our Father any who are different, as if God Himself and for His good pleasure did not make also the Native American, the Negro, the Oriental, the Hispanic, the White folks, and even the Jew.  Get real Yall.

And the fact is, we all need to get real, because in case anyone hasn't noticed it, like in the days of Noah, we are all on this good ship Earth together; and brothers and sisters, with all His creatures assigned unto us for their care, we have diligently and blindly sailed His vessel to edge of the Seas as if in the days when man believed the world to be flat, and we all know it's headed that way and refuse to lift a finger to turn the wheel, and I am one who bets God to prove me wrong.  A bet I would to like loose.  Yall get real.

Young boys and even I fight.  Girls do too sometimes, and that is most unfortunate.  It is appalling for one parent to teach his child to not ever start a fight, but not ever run from one, and have that child so engaged with an enemy that uses not rules of fairness.  As a boy I fought.  We fought fair.  We fought till the other quit, and that was that.  Most of the time, the fighters also became best of friends, and get to laugh about it, saying, ‘that one on the chin was a good one.  It cleaned my clock', and the other saying, ‘yeah, you sure tagged my ear good too.  Did you see the look on the folks faces?  We scared em.'

Let me tell you of a few good fights I got into in my younger days, and then you tell me the good purpose of fighting in the land of the living and days of our lives.  The ones I won, I beat the other guy.  The ones I lost, I was beaten.  When grown, I discovered a greater truth of an old saying, which said, ‘the pen is mightier than the sword.'  I truly discovered what that is a reflection of, for I discovered of that saying this truth: ‘The Word is mightier than the Fire it writes about.' and, ‘God is better than even the Spirit is willing to show.'  Even as a man in love won't well discuss intimate details of a lover's way with even his family and closest friends.  Some things are personal between lovers.  So it's with the Spirit, and God.  That doesn't mean in time to speak, the Spirit is quieted.

Of the last fight, there are two and I can't remember which one was first or last, probably because I got beat so bad I can't remember it just right. I was young, and so was our time.

Once I had gone out with a young lady and taken mild advantage of her.  Her name was Cindy, and to this day her name sounds like sweet sin that's just lifes good sweet and hot candy.  I suppose she didn't like the way I pulled on her wrapper.  It fully pissed her off.

I didn't yet know of her brother.  One day in Junior High School, we had all taken a smoke break between classes; and one of the areas we primarily congregated was on the side of the building at the loading dock.  I had hopped off the dock and lit up a Marlboro.  All of a sudden out of the door and across the dock came her brother.  I had hardly ever seen this guy before, and he was walking fast and saying ‘ Hey.. You Son of a bitch'  I never for a second even assumed he was talking to me.  I didn't even know the guy.  Nor had I been raised with a sister.  I knew nothing of the way of a brother fired up about her.

I was however, about to so learn.  I hadn't before seen a person fly, but he flew into me.

He got the first blow on the side of my head before his feet hit the pavement.  I was stunned, having to believe what I could not fathom.  I began pissing on myself as everything went into slow motion.  I have heard that a response to terror is either fight or flight.  I suppose a chicken came up with that statement, because men, and even those about to become men, do not have that to be found in their heart.  It's always fight.  But some things are of the fire and some of the fuel, and some is of the glow outside the burning, and some are sparks that burn away running.  Once it is activated, then it's On.

Some reasons any ever quit the fight is because they were just posturing, and now respect each other.  Others fight until the other concedes.  Some will not quit unless pulled apart.

Having a hot mouth without enough ass to back it up is something to be weighed in.  He loved to fight, and was generally known to be either friends with or avoided altogether for that very reason.  At the instant of the first blow, I assumed loss, but figured I could at least return some of what had now come suddenly due, and I fought to hurt him, and I didn't much care how; within of course the boundries we both in life had been instructed:  you don't hit in the nuts, you don't beat another when he's down, and no one gets to die.

If you beat him to the ground, you wait for him to get up, and you go at it again until one stays down, and the one standing says ‘you want some more?' And the other guy either does not respond or waves him off.  At that time, the hand of the winner goes down to the looser to help him up, and both either go separate ways or walk off together, now clearer.

That didn't happen that morning.  He got some good ones on me, and on him I did some typical fistfight damage too.  Then some Teacher we both knew better than to stand up to, not because we didn't think we couldn't kick his butt, but we knew what our parents would do to us if we tried, came running out the door, all authoritively lit up by one of the tattle tale sparks that had run burning away.  He got between us and said to us both ‘you gotta go through me to get to him'.  We tried for a while, but he was a kinda sorta fat, and hard to fight around.  When he started cussing, we knew we had him hot, and we quit for our own good. We just had to stop. And then there was the Junior High Principal. His name is Doug, but we called him Coach.  He felt it good to call him Doug rather than Mister.  That's how he formed personal bonds with students, and we knew he is the Boss.

The Teacher marched us with his hand on each of our shoulders, up onto the deck and in through the big wide loading doors like convicted war criminals.  He walked us that way  straight down the hall to the Principal's office.  He marched us in and made us sit down.

He interrupted Doug in a meeting.  Doug walked out and asked what this is all about, and

I told him I didn't know.  I said ‘this crazy bastard jumped off the dock and started hitting me, screaming something about his sister.  I don't even know this guy or who his sister is.'   He said ‘he tried to fuck my sister Cindy..' I said ‘Cindy?  Coach, everybody screws Cindy.  That's why I went out with her.'  Coach interrupted us to tell us if he heard any more language like that out our mouths, we were gonna have to fight him.  We shut up.  He said ‘I don't care what it's about.  Who threw the first blow on my school property?'

He said ‘I did'.  He said ‘OK then.   The rule for who starts a fight is ten licks or ten days expelled.'  He asked, ‘what about him?'  Coach said, ‘he was just defending himself.'  He got ten hard licks with a paddle from a man who taught his butt a red-hot lesson.  I went home for the day, and skipped school the next few days... recovering. Yeah.  Right.

And we both walked with our head up right, because of our fight:  he had attacked me and hurt me over his sister, and I had given as good as sent.  I never spoke to her again.  She acted fine and rosy when I was with her, and afterward screamed for help's revenge.

We all get frustrated.  I got up this morning and told God if he wanted to save His world, He can do it Himself, because I'm tired of working for Him, because I don't think He's fair.  If He wanted to write to anyone, go find someone with tablets he won't throw down.

Then I made my coffee, had a good smoke, and sat down and wrote these four pages, and have more to write; but my back is killing me, and I need to lay down and rest for a bit.  Pain regulates my sleeping cycle.  I go to bed to get pain easy, and then pain wakes me.

Sometimes I can laugh at it.  Sometimes I can't.  Mostly, I just live with it.  That's life.

Sometimes I just gotta believe God told us before we were born that it could get hard or impossible down here, and we wanted to come anyhow.  Life is the time of our lives!

I ran into him years later doing business.  It was like we were old friends.  I asked of his sister, and I think he said she was married with children.  I thought of her husband, ‘that poor bastard.'  Shouldn't have thought that way, but we all do get ourselves opinionated.

I'll just bet she teaches her children to stick up for each other, and not let anyone take advantage.  She probably tells them a story about someone who tried to have his way with her, and how her brother intervened.  Good for her!  That's what mothers should do; for you see, my wrong started it.  I thought of her cheaply; but she is valued in her family.

As with any story, true or fiction, much is of who tells the story, and how it's then told.

Understand that God our Father thought enough of her to give her children to raise right, and taught me a well remembered lesson: to not take any female as cheap; for without them and God, no good man would be here.  None of us know everything of our parents before we're born.  They aint gonna tell all either!  I don't blame us for sacred memories.

I understand we're all seeking love before we at all understood what all love lives to be.

Welcome, needed, and desired!

Resume @1:39 A.M., E,

Let me show you how more can be said of what is said.  Here is a paragraph.  Untoughed~untouched by new ideas or even spell check.  I made a mistake, but not deliberately.  I'm not a good speller.

Here is the same paragraph.  Let me now show yall something about how much more can be said than when first begun.  For example, here is a paragraph; untouched by different ideas and perhaps even spell check.  I have often made mistakes, but not deliberately.  Also, I'm not a very good speller.  I thank God often for computers, and especially spell check.  And I know there is more to any story than what the storytellers can ever write.

Due to our nature, an unexpected Intermission.

A Writing: A Right Of A Rat.

And a really righteous rat at that.

02~18~2010, @ 10:58 P.M., East Coast Time, in Dixie.

For a short time now, there's been a rat in my house.  I have nothing personal against rodents, as long as they don't try to mess up life for anything else.  But they do and they can't help it.  They look for food and water, and who can blame them for that?  They look for a warm place to nest and have their offspring, and who can blame them for that.  I don't blame them for being rats.  But they are this day universally nasty as a roach.  I can get a cat or a dog to act right in the house; and fish in an aquarium, I tried to give them a better life than they would have in the wild.  I even raised special rats once, called gerbils, and had one that I'm reasonably sure loved me.  And when I kept a pet boa constrictor we named Zackareyea Openeya, {Zack a ri uh ~ Open eye uh} I raised some mice for Zack.  But as for me, I was once young and could enjoy watching a snake eat his prey.  One day I looked at it from the point of view of the mouse I had in a bucket when I dropped a hungry snake in the bucket with him.  It took the snake a few seconds to figure out where he was at and what's happening; also that's about all the time the mouse had to realize full-scale and inevitably true horror.  Round bucket bottoms offer no hiding place.

I have a heart.  I have a mind too, and any creature in my care will get to eat if I can find the way to provide.  I didn't set the diet, nor did my hand craft snakes or rats, cats, bats, birds, fish, trees, lakes, oceans seas, planets, universes and cosmos, or people.  God Almighty alone did all that, and He had help from One who with Him is One.  How's that arithmetic for you?  One and one are obviously two, but One and One are the same One.

I'm older now.  I asked God for good and right wisdom, and gained understanding, and saw that life lives within its reason.  I despise killing, and want to find a way to avoid it.  That does not mean I will allow vermin to take up residence in my home uninvited, and in so doing render my food and clothing unfit, and certainly not in my kitchen or closet.

I set a huge Victor rat trap last night.  Around 10:30 P.M. or so, I heard the trap spring, and a thump.  I knew it got him.  I didn't want to go look immediately, because sometimes it takes a while before the rat quits kicking.  But rats don't get away often from a Victor.  If they do, they leave something behind.  It's like a snowballs chance in hell.  Death by any sort of execution or poisoning or by any deliberate means is cruel.

That was a special rat.  There are many cats around here, and even at my back door, and the rat made it past that barrier, and past the bait stations around the house.  It ate bread in my house, and drank my water.  In better circumstances, I would have made a pet of it, but I don't like to keep creatures caged up anymore either.  This morning I dug a deep grave, with the cats all around me, and laid the rat to rest.  I tossed in his grave the rubber gloves I used to cover my hands during the removal and burial process.  I said an earnest open eyed and heart felt prayer for the rat.  For his life, and for the undeserved wrong I brought on him.  Underserved because he had no idea or comprehension of the offense or reason. The trap was beyond comprehension.  He was so sure God loved him. God does.

This has bothered me all day long.  Even for one of His least and most despised creatures.

Rats are nasty, and can this day spread disease, and generally create problems.  No one should have to live with rodents and vermin and animals.  Pets are ok, but only with the right understanding of the separation between mankind and the species of life which were before us; that we were put here to take care of.  I do not advocate unto any that they should allow infestations of creaturisms, and bacteriaisms, and virusisms and religiosity to take control of and ruin their life.  People are at the top of the food chain.  We are in the image of God our Father, and He is not a rat or a snake or dragon, or either a thief, or murderer, or liar, or dog; even though the word dog is the same as the word god spelled backward, and God's will can easily become God swill if you don't understand His Love. 

But we do have a kind of way with animals.  We ascribe unto some of the better ones some creaturistic Titles.  The Lion of Judah, The Lamb of God, and The Dove of Peace are some from our mainflow of religion.  I've not ever studied your religion, but maybe you've heard of some of the Characterisms from what we believe.  We have some others too not quite so animalistic, such as ‘True Light from True Light, Begotten, and not made, our bright and morning Star... which is not to be confused with that wicked child of the morning our scripture called by a name ascribed unto what we believe evil to be.

It wasn't called ‘Lucy in the sky with diamonds'.  That was a song by the Beatles, whom we all love.  Yes, I called Lucifer an it.  No man was that mean and no woman so cold.  It can't repent because it has no soul.  It's as spirit that's darker than black but likes to shine like the wealth of gold.  So I've experienced, and even so I've been told: it earned a hole.

I didn't mean to get poetic when writing about rats or the devil.  It's just that God lives in me, and of the Spirit, who can say which way the wind will blow, of the will of Its wind?

Actually, it's just before 1 A.M, and I'm tired of writing, and just filling up this page.  I'm about to go and lay down and get some sleep, without wondering what a rat in my house is doing.  But I do wish someone would come up with an effective pest repellant.

Good Lord... is this page ever going to end?  I want to go to bed, and write some more to our Muslims, cause I believe there must be some good people in that religion, worth writing to.  Lord, I hope I honor you in trying to make peace with my country's enemy.  But it's more than hope.  You don't find zeal unto God like that too often over here.  But God knows where He is welcome is not often in religions, or in buildings, or in homes and businesses, or most people who were blinded unto Him by some unseen hater of His.

He is welcome in the heart of every believer: and brothers and sisters, He will come on in if you just open the door.  Good Lord..  will you make me Your preacher now?  You know I can't stand them.  I like to hear good preaching, and sing about how good God is; but most people who try to act like they are for God love something else, and are of more danger to both of our ways of life than any roach, rat, cockatrice, scorpion, or predators of the deep have ever ascribed unto their blind purpose to be.  I made it to the bottom of the page, if I just finish this line.  I'll punctuate it properly tomorrow, if not right now.

Friday, 2-18-10

I wanted to write more, b t the ‘ ‘ key came off this old keyboard.  I co ld insert, b t why bother.  This is  nreasonable to try to write with a letter missing.  I'm doing the job of the EPA, the President, the Secretary of State, and even the Pope, and I have not asked for a single half baked copper cent for so doing, b t I'll j st now send this on it's merry e-mail way.  It will get where it's going.  All that takes is a little faith.  I aint even gotta have hope when I believe and then so do also now know. So help  us all.  Even so, even I hope.  I can always use ‘insert', but enough is damn well enough, sometimes, anytime, and right damn now too!  Perhaps I can get another worn out computer out of our trash, or get another one nobody wants anymore.  It's not the first thing I wore slap o t, either. And it might not be the last either.  I'm more pissed with this whole world than even Islam is.

Love Yall All,

From Dixie, in the greatest nation on the face of the Earth, for God our Father and Jesus Christ His Son, I am Bob Moore, His Holy Spirit, promised, guaranteed, and delivered.

Amen!

Thank Yall.  Love too,

The Midnight Writer

Timing this sign off @ 10:08 P.M., Eastern, and holding.

I believe God Himself would appreciate the kindness.

Bob.