Friday, August 17, 2012

like pigs

Earthlings make habit of mistaking shame chasms for the arms of their giant merciful Lord. The sun is so majestic, so holy. Way up high his soverinty rings out, but all the resonance dries the Earthling's skin way down to dirt (substance of their first holy making). The Sun shines--it beats--causing the earthlings’ pores to squeeze out what ever [ x (in a universe of infinite spaces, what can x not be?)] they have left onto their humble feet. They are marching and stomping for their holy master. Everything becomes thick and it clings. See it thicken and clog the city's drainage system like chocolate pudding? It slowly bakes into mud pies. The earth’s surface is slowly baked through this eternal dynasty. Filthy feet slosh around feeling into the ground; the land is no longer fertile. The earthlings are all filthy.

1.  Do Earthlings crave weightlessness or do they always dread the idea of floating up from the earth's crust--the suppression of gravitational pull? Do they want to float or keep on stomping?

hint: no one has successfully achieved that freedom, certainly no Earthling. People long for weight. When they sense that airy buzz take over and initiate a lightness of thought--that's when the fretting starts. That makes for some of the biggest squeals and oinks.

2. (But really) How can they even think to climb out of these holy trenches with the weight of the sun’s supremacy crushing their skulls into their brains?

well: they want to feel some sort of weight (anyways). On with the struggle! For some, they are still marching on toward that ripe and fertile land promised to them eons ago.

3. But, the FILTH! That nasty ass chocolate pudding mess all over their bibs!

Just a matter of biology (homeostasis): It helps to cool them off while they bake away under the Lord. Also, it's something tasty onto which they can latch, suckle, you know, it makes up for some really sweet dreams.






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