The Book Of Truths As Told Through Whispers




Far too many sun ups have passed me by

On clouds of melancholy mist

Truth abandoned in the fog of words

Clouded memories lost or forgotten

To become fairy tales and folklore

History casts an ominous shadow

Ghost bones begin to rattle a beat

Softly the voice of Satan coaxed

Whispering gossip from the time beginning

Come and see Lord what we have made thee


What hath our religion become?

Murmurs of behavioral reason

Treat those as thy would thyself

Unless they are considered less

Abominations in the eyes of ourselves

What can’t be defined we must condemn

Before it reveals us for what we truly are

Babes swaddled in the cloth of hypocrisy

Eyes unable to see yet fit to judge at will

Sanctimonious visions of how life exists


Whispers written in a book called truth

Scribed from the days of opulent lies

The rules of life with answers so simple

Yet too complex to include the disparate

Designed to assuage the guilt of our conscience

In the name of all we have yet to understand

So soothing to bathe once in a week

In the baptismal waters of deceptions

Reading but not following his rules of conduct

The holy book of truth as told through whispers










Moments Of Time And Thoughts About Reincarnations

The Buddhist wheel of life showing numerous stages of reincarnation
The Buddhist wheel of life showing numerous stages of reincarnation



(A convivial wandering through Existential and Absurdist delusions)


Moments in time are snapshots of cosmic grandeur stored in the corridors of our past. If we dare to pace the hallways with our ghosts we need be prepared for the unexpected be it wraith, phantom, or merely a shadow. The hope is of course that time itself will hold still and allow us to share a treasured vision of comfort through the crevice of our memories. But maybe you think some of those stored memories are from the moments of a previous life. Some of your memories seem like they’re not yours at all. Far too often what becomes revealed when we tread too deep into philosophies of life and death down our corridors of reflection an unclear picture leaves us more confused than content. Ghosts talk in a strange language.


Went to see the blind man

Upon the mountains crest

Came across no man of vision

Just a buzzard at his nest

Disdainful perched and grinning

Bird of opportunity and prey

Screeched a baneful warning

Told me to walk the fuck away

Although the Buzzard scared me

Sent the blood up to my head

I stared right down his beak

And this is what I said

I came here in search of my moments

Scraps of time which are mine to own

It’s the sage that I thought would have them

Instead some buzzard sits at his throne

This made my buzzard angry

To be spoken to in verse

He scoffed at me disdainfully

As though I were perverse

But I came to see the wise one

The sighted blind old sage

You shouldn’t be free to mock me

With one foot stuck in your cage

At that very moment The Blind Man stepped out from a shadow

Its not with eyes you see your soul

Nor is it with ears you hear your song

If you think those moments are yours alone

My son you’ve got it wrong

You came to ask some questions

On life and what comes next

But that not why you’ve really come here

With you brain all pumped and flexed

So tell me then why you have come

I took a toke and pondered before I replied

Why do I stand here all alone

In a world of ashes and dust

That grows nothing but rain

Leaving everything in rust

Then I let myself speak free of silly verse

Why do I sometimes I feel sad

Yet cant remember why

Tears well in my eyes without reason

I wonder why do I cry

Remembering moments that don’t belong to me

Is it past me’s who make me sigh

Or have I simply forgotten

Are the me’s who live inside before

The ones who had to die

So I could be who I am

Are they the reason I cry

In way of firm reply the Blind Man laughed

Are you high?!

What you feel is normal

That’s your compassion through time

You really have no clue why you came

The mystery you seek is what is time

The greatest mystery of forever

Time is a complex set of gears all turning at the same time

Those moments you claim are just a small part

And everyone’s times overlap and intersect

Increments of distress or patches of pleasure

Your choice

But whatever you do don’t let time pass you by

While you stare and wonder why

Accept and live


Make the best of all you have

You won’t get it back because time cannot be given back

Nor can it be owned

It doesn’t belong to any of you





My thoughts began to course through me

Leaving understanding in my wake

Somt things we should never know

Just appreciate

Because all we will leave behind

Is moments for the ones we love

And we should make those moments real


The Blind man called to the Buzzard it’s time to go

The Buzzard winked at me before he left

Be careful of the truths you seek

Some truths come straight from Hell

Both of us can stab you with your very moments

Life is wheel which never stops

Then he laughed and sang me a verse

“The wheel is turning and it won’t slow down

You can’t let go and you can’t hold on

You can’t go back and you can’t stand still

If the buzzard don’t get you then the blind man will”**

The Blind man laughed as the Buzzard flew away and motioned me to look in his eyes. “ You don’t need these to see truths you need only yourself. You say you are searching for your moments but no one owns their moments they are meant to come and go. Every moment is shared and becomes the past mere seconds after they happen. What you seek is the purpose of your moments and your answer to past lives. Reincarnation is a punishment my son. Forced to repeat over and over isn’t some grand gesture on the Karmic Wheel, its what some theologians would call limbo. Your moments are meant to be enjoyed so if you missed the enjoyment you are doomed to repeat it until you learn to appreciate the moment. When that happens, you will shed your eyes as the will no longer be necessary. All I’m saying my son is….Stop searching for what’s not there because while your searching those moments are passing you by.”

Disclaimer… The trippyness of this text is a combination of a philosophical self search combined with some misheard lyrics.** Robert Hinter tune The Wheel performed by Jerry Garcia** Upon hearing this song under the influence of mind altering enhancements my peyote challenged ears misheard “If the buzzard don’t get you then the blind man will” Instead of thunder and lighting. At the time I never questioned the validity of such Dr Seuss like lyrics but accepted that they made sense in some Pablo Picasso sort of way. Once hearing the song under less foggy circumstances my first thought was well shit, that would make a good line anyway. It took me over 30 years to work in to a story. Peace



Brain Flu/The Hunt/Our Secret



A dark tour inside the mind of a troubled homicidal fragile mind. Enter at your own risk


Voices keep on taunting me

I can feel the corrosion

My brain is melting

Or is it the flu

No one else hears their threats

Conversations I cannot share

Secrets I don’t want to keep

Which voice is the real voice

Constant fighting in my head

Like a caged in cranium fight

Everyone just laughs at me

Whispering Kyle is insane

They won’t get away with that

We’ll make them pay

We need to inflict some pain

I’m gonna go out and kill tonight

Someone has to die

Gotta go find a thrill tonight

Gonna get my high

Just one thing I need to know

Not who or what or how

Only thing I need understand

Is who the fuck is talking now

Is that me or my mental shadow


Someone is after us its time to act

Listen Kyle no time to relax

Relax is what they want from you

Don’t sit in silence as you brood

Time to do it now time to act

You can do it

Act Kyle ACT!

They hate you -hit you- hurt you

They laugh when you cry

Make them pay the little bitches

Somebody has to die

Do it Kyle, go on and do it!

Make their blood flow red

They don’t care about you Kyle

They only want you dead

No Kyle please don’t listen

He’s not real

Don’t listen to his crap

Just get back in bed

It’s only a voice inside your head

He’s the one who wants you dead

Listen to me

He’s not real

He’s just a voice

I’m not Kyle, I’m the real you

Come on Kyle you have a choice

Please Kyle Please take your pill

He only wants to see you fall

Not real? I’m not real? Of course I’m real

We’re all fucking real Kyle

Each of us a part of you

Get your knife Kyle

It’s time

Lets get another trophy

It’s the only way to relieve your pain

The warm flow of blood through our hands

The same as last week Kyle, remember

Remember that night?

The Hunt

The night air quickly darkened so eerily uneasy

A stranger treads cautious along a tree lined path

My footsteps in the shadow pursuing relentless

Tapping out a caution of my oncoming wrath

Heart pounding out a warning-imminent danger

Perhaps a case of him in wrong place wrong time

In paranoia I sense the pace of his stride quicken

His destiny is to fall victim of my ominous crime

We all insist upon closing up the gap

Innocent blood about to face a stalkers fate

He shouldn’t have traveled alone down here

What’s done is done and now its just too late

The hunter is gaining quick and precious ground

Seconds seem to tick in heart pounding silence

Feeling the motion from a pair of subversive arms

Poised to unleash a world of bloody violence

A steel blade is cold against his quivering skin

Rip the flesh to change the icy chill to a burn

Warm streams of life trickle out from his neck

Sanguine copper taste making his stomach churn

He can sense ultimate glee as I shred through a vein

Can almost feel my maniacal menacing smile

Now my heart is a racing even faster than his

He can’t shout with a voice exiled in denial

Warm streams of plasma pour down his neck

Oozing out the essence with beats of his heart

Pumping to the rhythms of a dying collective

But its the sheer panic that really rips him apart

His breath hot and laborious sprays over my face

I posed him for my psychotic viewing pleasure

With his wild eyed empty meaningless pseudo smile

Watching his life run out is my reward and treasure

As he falls to the ground no muscles come to his aid

His abandoned body crumples straight into submission

I feel ounces of vitality pooling out of both his eyes

As I prepare myself for our ultimate transition

My mind is as blurry as the streaking in his eyes

Waiting for his life to go flashing across the sky

But I lay here stagnant as hope bleeds through

Nothing he can do but accept he’s gonna die

He feels nothing now all his pain and panic gone

He has no idea that I’m his murderous creep

I have no time to think about his worthless life



Our Secret

Time to do it again Kyle

We can help you kill

Its time to be a man

Get angry Kyle get good and mad

Let go Kyle let’s kill someone

It’ll stop that feeling

It’ll make you strong

Forget the others

They don’t care Kyle

They don’t give a shit

They’ll kill you Kyle I swear they will

But we’ll have none of it

Time to fight, go ahead Kyle

Go and get our knife

Get it now before you cave

Get it now its blood you crave

They won’t be laughing from their graves

Kill Kyle kill

No please Kyle no don’t get the knife

Slow down and everything will be okay

Go back to bed get some sleep

Tomorrow’s another day

Don’t listen to him Kyle

He’s a chicken and a wimp

But he does have one point

Tomorrow Kyle IS another day

Another day to disappoint

Another day of taunting

Another day of shame

Another day of you being worthless

Another day to make you sweat

Like its some fucking game

More laughing behind your back

Get the knife Kyle get the shiny glowing steel

Get it now

End their attacks

Remember Alice was yours

Alice was in your bed until

Remember Alice with someone else

She fucked another man Kyle

Get the knife


No more! My head hurts! Oh my Go it hurts so much!

Shut up! Shut up! Leave me alone!

Shut up all of you – just shut up!

Leave me alone please leave me alone. Get out of my mind

Someone please make them shut up make them stop!

Why do you guys all want to hurt me too?

What’d I ever do?

My heads all twisted my nerves are shot

I hate you all the entire lot

Why are these voice in my head

What am I to do?

Everyone keeps pushing me

I wish this shit was through

Yelling pushing shoving pounding

Hurting my head

It feels like acid burning inside

Get out of here go away all of you

I wish I was dead

Then again, maybe you’re right

It all makes sense now Alice laughs

But the fault is hers

She laughs when I feel hurt

Maybe she’ll be happy

With blood dripping from her soft neck

The silken neck that was mine to kiss

I’ll kill that wretched bitch and her new friend

There’ll be many deaths

Before the evenings through

But what would Mom say?

She’d want me back on my meds

Maybe I should take the pill

The one that makes me numb

That takes away the inner me

And leaves me feeling dumb

At least it makes the voices leave

For better or for worse

Plus one more night without the need

Of leaving in a hearse

Brain is hot, minds all sweaty

Voices start to muffle

Hope this brain flu ends on the med train

The Thorazine shuffle

So many voices

But who am?

Who are they?

Which one is Kyle?

Maybe it’s better if no one ever knows

G’nite Kyle

G’nite Kyle

G’nite Kyle

G’nite Kyle

……………..G’nite guys, let’s just keep this our little secret, yea?



Our Sunken Meadow Serenade

sunken meadow


Hand in hand

We waltzed

Across the midnight sand

Pioneer love

Searching for meaning

On a small coastal land

Laid down our shoreline footprints

Imprinted with fervor

Forever to preserve her

The tracks of mother love

Etched along the shore

We dreamed of our sandcastle

Granular palace of pleasure

Emotional countermeasure

That never stayed

The fortress like our love

Taken out with the tide

Only our memories stayed

The moon softly singing

Our Sunken Meadow Serenade


Seaside full of love

Jellyfish and Horseshoe crabs

Starfish and scally-wags

Sea Gulls and terns

Turtles and sandworms

Loons screaming out in a terrible fright

But when we listen more close

The truth revealed

Aquatic love had filled the night

Like the stray life of the sea

We joined in midnights elation

Making love under the vanilla moon

We could hear the night breeze swoon

With the stars illuminating our trail

We knew we’d be there soon

The rocky shoreline led the way

Our Sunken Meadow Serenade



The thrill of capture

In an ocean of rapture

Under an onyx sky

Love glows silver from the diamond eyes

The sun took to rising

Leaving the world to tend it’s horizon

Together we waded

In the forming morning dew

From the tears of the evening

I gave myself to you

A carpet of shells and stone

Let out a sensual moan

Bodies arched in bold submission

Covetous ambition held us tight

Grasping me tender in the shadow aquatic

Erotically fanatic

We pledged our souls

Piercing my body she whispers her song

A moist tongue rips through my flesh

Like a ravenous wanton blade

Our Sunken Meadow serenade



At sunrise I hear a dream

A world I can no longer hold

And no longer visit

Too many sunrises have passed by

Too many hours that I cried

Like the love no forbidden

I can never go back

Our innocence dissolved

Lost for both of our eternity’s

Swept up in the ocean current

Let not lost love become a deterrent

Even though love came far too quick

And left us far too soon

We shared the moon

Wisps of passion blown across the sand

Once where seaweed footprints glistened

In the glow of the crest

Now a distant dirge

Young love expressed

Natures orchestra whistles her sonata

From a passing regatta

Waves lay down rhythms

As they kiss the shoreline

I close my eyes and fade away

Dreaming of the Utopia we made

Now I have but one song left

As I fall asleep

Wishing pioneer love had stayed

Our Sunken Meadow Serenade







So here I am


My possessions by my side

Darkened hallways where I hide

Running from my convictions

My hand forced from my evictions

Running away


All alone and empty

Every now and then

Walk among misfortune

Run against the wind


Boarding another broken train

Different city same old pain

Typical scene in rear view back

Dulling pounding headaches

Another run down shack

Fade to black





Gotta keep decaying

Rust won’t ever rest

I keep moving backward

Doing what I do best

Another chapter another failure

Did my time

Paid my jailor

Been kicked out of better places

Same old lovers different faces

Yet here I am



A Cul de Sac life

Paying interest on a demons spell

I wish for just this once

My life would work out well

Just one fucking happy ever-after

Instead of the merciless laughter

Not too much to ask

Instead I get repaid

In a dubious before and after




So here I stand

At the gates of indecision

The gates of my own prison

The one of my own making

Exhausted from the faking


Trying hard to remember

What its like to win

Can’t get out from under my frustrations

So I travel without a destination

Toward a universal mediocrity

Where I’m just another wannabe

Like the loser who’s in front of me

Leading me down a twisted path




Don’t know where I’m going

But damn sure of where I’ve been

Same fucking tireless trail

No answers from within

Stopped believing long ago


I’m on my own

A new shaky roads about to begin

Again and again

Sometimes failure is the only option

And I am facing that option

Once Again


Chemical Dependency



A Flow of Consciousness Ramble in Modern Beat Poet Style


It started out just on weekends a bag here and a bag there. Shared some with my friends. A bag of chips with a liter of pop. Getting high on high fructose syrup, weekend end warriors hooked on Genetically Modified chemicals and now I can’t stop. I’m addicted to Wall Street’s Genetically Modified Poisons

I wanna leave but I just can’t go

I wanna stop but is has a hold

I see their poisons everywhere

But the ones I don’t see?

That’s what scares me

I’m hooked on the chemicals of Monsanto

They get their shit into my body and won’t let go

Who wins?

Big business honey making lots of money

They think its all too funny

Like artificial sun

Read it in the Wall Street tabloids

Their dollar value is on god damn steroids

Eat some. We’ll al be mindless androids

They even make GMO Altoids

Their poisons are tasty but so impure

They peddle their dope to the unsuspecting poor

But even the rich come back for more

Hell with inflation

Fuck the profiteers of chemical alteration

Why is it war and poisons that get our donation

Send the money mongers into damnation

Run the thoughtless bastards out of our nation

It’s Big Business masturbation


But that’s speculation

With big fat wallet smiles

At the supermarket aisles

Laughing to the bank with their money piles

GMO Frosted breakfasts aimed at the youth

Big business bullshitters never tell you the truth


Caustic soups and cancerous soda

Safe as drinking brake fluid from a Toyota

No stopping now its time for a recall

Before they kill us all

Know what else they got?

Poisons from the microwaves piping hot

The whole thing is a conspiracy plot

Controlling our minds

Well ultimately

They’re fucking us over subliminally

Chemical Dependency sold on TV

Who fucking buys it? You and me!



They really don’t care about us, the very best tool to deal with this is education. Worlds of information. Without discrimination. Search engines at our fingertips and we still seem to believe too much of what we hear without validation. Just a little research. The most dangerous shit is the shit they won’t tell us.



Genetic modification

Spreading across the nation

Causing chemical castration

Its corporate fornication

It’s all too much frustration

Profiting on maceration

Wall Street masturbation

Into profitable elation

Now we’re all hooked on chemical modification

Our breathing becomes constricted

From the chemicals inflicted

From the chemicals unrestricted

That’s keeping us addicted

Just like science has predicted

GMO’s must be evicted

But the practice will go unrestricted

And their crimes will be acquitted

No wrongs will be admitted

Even though poisons have been emitted

Criminal politicians are committed

To allow their rape on us permitted

Profiting the American way

Sponsored by the CIA

Endorsed by the NRA

Taped by the NSA

It doesn’t matter either way

We’ll make them hear what we have to say

Or we too will perish………

It’s our judgment day

If you believe in something, say something. The only power we have is the power of each other. Share concerns, make yourselves heard, it’s your world kids, mine is coming to an end and it’s gonna be up to you. Live and Love in peace, truth, and harmony……..




Bye Bye Baby



Beautiful Feline

Our Baby

My little girl

Said good-bye

A world of sadness

Yet a thank you in her eye

Leaving sweet memories

Of her life gone by


Right now

Across the world

In many a grave

Some marked

Some not

The souls of the billions

Stir slightly


To make room for one more gentle soul

For “baby”

For her we cry

Because Nature keeps subtracting

As love comes by


Some think it pathetic to see

An old man reduced to tears

But I don’t care

Disease is pathetic

This feeling is pathetic

Death is pathetic

And life’s not fair

Good Bye Ba


Dave? Daves Not Here…



By J.T. Hilltop

All day long I’ve been hearing and seeing people say that David Bowie was extremely good at re-inventing himself. Personally I find that to be a bullshit statement. He wasn’t invented he merely lived his life on his own terms. I think maybe David Bowie was far too original for some people to understand so they put him into compartments they can label. They invented a label for Mr. Bowie and when he exposed another piece of his personality they re-invented a new label. David didn’t invent himself he shared himself, in all his glorious facets. The only expectations he lived up to were his own and that defies the logic of those among us who can only understand people when they’re placed in comfortable sounding compartments.

Whether he was wearing an Oddity like an abandoned spacesuit looking the sell the world or busy making cha cha cha cha changes into a Cosmic Traveling Starman riding spiders on Mars he willing revealed all the components of his life with us while entertaining us with phenomenal music. All while reaching his fame. What’s your name what’s your name. David simply slipped in and out of the pieces of the jigsaw that made him such a wonderful puzzle and graciously allowed us to experience it along with him.

In constant conflict with conformity David took us on many wonderful rides each one more fun than the next. Rock, Glam, Dance, whatever the Hell he felt like exposing he did. His legacy for me will not be merely his music but his teaching us how to be brave and express ourselves as who we are not who others want us to be. Jimi Hendrix told us to wave our freak flags high but David Bowie took it a step further, not just raise your flag but to refuse to allow anyone to label your flag. It’s our flag and we wave if proudly. David Bowie will forever be both a Scary Monster…..and a Hero.


Trading In Blood

blood oil



I am a frightened misguided martyr

Crouching behind the wind of the desert

My trembling hand grasps tight my death stick

Time to man up

I thought I was ready but now I feel sick

Prepared to lay down in honor of death

I try hard to focus on the mission at hand

But I don’t understand

Why I came to die in some foreigners land

With sweat on my fingers now crusted with sand

Ready to finish what someone else started

No place to be when you’re of the good hearted

I have to kill to liberate this land

And I have no idea where the fuck I am

Or why


Trained to kill

Trained to die

Heart of a lion

A soldier am I

Sand in my boot

Wind in my eye

Where is my enemy

I want him to die


How did I get here so angry and unsure

I’ve strayed much to far from my manger

In the name of country in the name of Christ

I’m willing to end the life of some stranger

Who am I that I can choose who should die

Who is he to decide my fate

None of that matters

Everything’s rotten

I’m trained to kill

When I get home I just may continue the thrill

Or maybe I’ll just be forgotten



Trained to kill

Trained to die

Heart of a lion

A soldier am I

Sand in my boot

Wind in my eye

Where is my enemy

It’s his turn to die


But as I peer through the scope I see just a boy

I think he’s as misguided and younger than me

Who sends a child to march straight into death

Then I remembered the politician said “We”

Well where the fuck is he?

Having family dinner while I stand to die

Again all I can think is WHY?

Trying hard to remember who told me to come here

And the reason they sold me to the grim reaper

While they are campaigning I fell into shit

They make the news while I keep sinking deeper

So a politician can stand by his words–


Make me president of the United States

I’ll increase the enemy death rates

I will put an end to war

I will destroy the terror

With the help of your children

Your sons and daughters

We may lose a few

Just a small error

Collateral damage is something to be

Collateral damage that’s me

The proud and few the dearly departed

Young men and women discarded

Up at the podium they offer a promise

All who oppose us shall rise and then fall

Bloods a small price to pay for our oil




So I shook a sandy blood clot

From my combat boot

Steady as she goes it’s my turn to shoot

Any enemy soldier I have in my sight

In my dead mans scope just off to the right

I will not allow him one day to grow older

My death stick poised on my shoulder

As I pull the trigger to cancel his life

Which now belongs to me

Aligned down my cold metal barrel

Get ready to die bitch

But wait!

A second before I take him out

Something makes me stop

Jesus Christ he’s just a kid

Just a frightened young boy

He doesn’t want this shit either

I made a mistake

I hesitated

I waited

Now its too late



I close my eyes but I see a bright light

There’s no more to feel its the end of my flight

This is the day of my very last battle

The sound from my lungs is the fearsome death rattle

I’m slipping away as all the crazy noise fades

No more killing no more raids

No more trembling in fear

Then it struck me why I was so fucking jaded

Because it’s for oil in which young kids blood has been traded




Peace is a hard concept to understand. We have to believe it, to live it, to sacrifice for it. We’ve come to believe that killing and being ready to die is the path to peace, but there is strength and bravery in using words and reason instead of bombs and murder. Be the best humanity can be and strive for peace, not war. Love Y’all, keep believing and keep dreaming. Slow and steady wins the PEACE




Viva La Revelations (A twisted tale from the unrepentant Absurdist)



J.T. Hilltop

I was always the fucking last one picked. No one really wanted me on their team. Said I was uncoordinated, too slow, and good for nothing. But I showed them. I wrote a book for the Bible. The “Book of Revelations” which ironically was the last story chosen for the Bible. Coincidence? Are you fucking kidding me or what?? Maybe you think Revelations was too fat, too slow, and too uncoordinated to play in the Old Testament but Omega of the New? Get the Shepherds Flock outta here. Ya want the true story or the bullshit stories you’ve been taught by people you have been fooled into trusting.

Well my name is John. John of Pathos and I had the visions I am prepared to share with you while in jail. Yea that’s right, jail. What? You thought we only had torture chambers back then? Okay admittedly dudes and dudettes we had some killer Iron Maidens but we also used jails. And jail is where I was at when I received the Holy Fucking Revelations!

The book of revelations is somewhat difficult to tell because its told in some rather unusual circumstances. I had been a prolific Theological Blogger in my day who had already had a number of stories published in the New Testament under my chisel name, Pontius Pontificator. Not to brag or anything but it’s a play on my own name John the Fornicator. I used Pontius cuz I was a dream to the ladies if ya knows what I mean. Anyways, some of my books were under the epistle category, and a gospel song called Psalm 43 (The P has the right to remain silent). John the Fornicator from Pathos will now begin the story of Revelations as I saw in my visions from jail. It includes the four headless horsemen of Sleepy Hollow, the Liar of Judah, angels, seven trumpeters, the beast, a dragon, a false prophet, an arched angel, and of course no biblical tale would be complete without a whore, this one straight outta Babylon. So take out your cones guys and girls, here’s the real deal scoop appeal.


One evening while I was studying in the prison library the guard tells me I got this like visitor. Now not many of my friends come by and my family disowned me so my interest is how you say, peeked. A woman, not saying it was Jesus’ Mary cause I would never do nothing behind the J-mans back so lets just say she looked quite similar to Mary Magdalene. So Mary come in and lays a snog toggling tongue twirling kiss right on my mouth. I mean it was like a cheek wrestling, saliva swapping smacker of a French kiss right there in plain view of everyone in the visitors cave. While we was moanin and groanin I could feel two slimy tabs of something slip off Maggs tongue. She tells me to swallow, something you don’t normally wanna hear in prison, but I swallows the tabs. Then she tells me I just took two tabs of Cobalt Cheer acid. Man I was stoked, that’s some ass kicking cid right there my brothers, I knew I was gonna be tripping my nuts off. I smiled all the way back to my cell knowing what was coming. I got to my confinement cave and laid down on my stone cot while my bulge subsided. (Hey, when ya gets a kiss of that nature when incarcerated things pop up and stay popped up) After about a half hour or forty five minutes or so I hears this voice. Like I sit up right away and look around but there ain’t no one there. So I lays back down when the voice comes back, this time calling me by name. “Oh Jaa-ahn” So’s I shout who’s that, who’s there? And the voice says ‘Its me John, God.’ Now I’m thinking it must be the acid kickin’ in right? I mean the walls of the cave had been like breathing for a while and this voice was like soft and almost girly. Not the powerful deep voice you’d expect God would have but the chick-like voice insists. ‘Really John, its me God’ Then he steps out from the shadows and sure enough it is the almighty himself, God. Amazing how much Jesus looked like him, I mean like the spittin’ image except like a million years difference. What else could I do? I sez, “what’s happening God?”

Then he walks straight through the bars. Not around them, I mean like right through them, like they wasn’t even there. Then he sez, ‘John, I’m going to tell you a story. I want you to write this story down and make sure everyone reads it.’ I’m really feelin ripe about now so I sez to him, you mean like a bestseller or something? To which he replies, ‘Ah…yea, something like that. But first try and get the story into the bible, because the book needs a proper prophetic ending and this will be the story of the end and the new beginning.’ Now I’m really thinking the acid must be slamming the insides of my brain up against my skull or something but I figures maybe I should like play along and I sez to him, ‘Yea, yea sure Mr. Devine Being, whatever you sez. He goes on, “When I first created everything I had seven arch angels to watch over heaven and protect it. Six of these arch cherubs were cool, but one malignant rascal, Beelzebub, was just a real pain in the sacred cheeks. Had to do everything his own way and refused to follow my directions. Finally one day I caught him rolling in the hayclouds with Gabriel’s teenage daughter and that was the last straw. I tossed him and his baneful ways out of heaven straight down to earth along with one third of the questionable residents of heaven, like my own heavenly flotilla. He went down to earth with the low-lifes and they formed a gang of goblin thugs calling themselves the Crypts. Picked the name of a sacred burial undercroft just to spite me. After that he enters the Garden of Eden, whips out his penis angling it in front of Eve like some big snake. Well of course his phallus being thrice the size of Adams Eves eyes widened, began to water and left her mouth agape which he quickly filled with an apple. He then seduced Eve enticing her to make love, five times, and that’s when all the trouble began. That was the fall of man, when Adam, teeming with jealousy and divine penis envy begins recruiting humans for his own gang to exact revenge. So I had Gabriel, a very trusted angel form a gang up here first because I knew there would someday be a major showdown and the humans wouldn‘t stand a chance. He formed the Bloods of my blood, after my sons prophecy. We call them the Bloods for short, and it created a rivalry that would be the mother of all rivalries. Positive vs. Negative, Life vs. Death, Good vs. Evil, none of them have anything on the rivalry of the Bloods vs. Crypts. One day we would have our gang lords get together for an epic rumble. This showdown will be called The Rapture. Are you getting all this down John?”

Now I knows I’m still tripping and all but I’m starting to think maybe this shit really is on the up and up so’s I keep scraping away on my stones getting down his words so I could one day write the book for him.Being an ancient journalist of course I had questions, so I asks him to explain to me how this Rapture thing is gonna go down. Then something happens that may sound like a fairy tale or a hallucination. He floats up to the ceiling an sez come on up John it will be easier if I show you”

Now I’m flipping ya know? I’m like how the brimstone am I supposed to get up there, but before I even gets to thinking about a strategy I was lifted right off my feet and floated right next to him. Honest to god, from Gods mouth to my ear he whispers, ‘Watch this. These guys can really stir it up’ A light went on and I swear to you it looked like a giant flat screen TV in HD. The images seemed so real. There was a stage with seven musicians, each one a phenom trumpeter. Al Hirt,Loius Armstrong,Wynton Marsalas, Miles Davis,Chuck Mangione,Maynard Fererson, and Dizzy Gillespie. Not just ordinary musicians each stood with a golden trumpet in their hands. The seven Trumpeters. They jammed away in like improv style non stop for about an hour. Man my head was floating! And that’s when the real show started!