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Jordan Gee Nov 2021
Heaven is an Eye fixed atop a triangle
embossed along panes of stained glass
in a burst of color and
embedded on a transom above
an arrangement of young Amish girls -
one of them flipping me the bird.
white bonnets shining inside the dark street
and red reflections of the night.

God is in a mirror
reflected across one thousand other mirrors
held by a single hand and adjusted thereby
so that the light would be refracted through
a bent corridor in time
bending and extending through
far away dimensions that
i don't even know about.

Beauty lies in the 6 skinny trees
i water on the fifth day
drinking coffee when i see
one thousand rose petals drying
like the shores of the salton sea
and the six trees like a
hexagram of six dragons
like Heaven over Heaven in the sky.

one time I saw this image in my mind
when i closed my eyes
a vision of fire shaped like a phoenix
burned across the red horizon of my mind.
beyond the black behind the lids of my eyes
there is a red horizon over inner city deserts,
bird beaks buried in the sand.

I must honor the body’s lived experience
yet not give it any credence over Spirit.
its like i was being taken over and consumed
by a Greater Being.
it pressed all my memories up against hard glass.
different angles through extra spectrums -
it was raining hard prisms
It was like laser beams everywhere.
like heaven over heaven in the sky.

I was ripping off layers like a nest
of ten rattlesnakes tangled up in braided rope.
now there are magnets that float around inside my head.
there are times i don’t know if I’m doing the thinking - or the listening -
or whose doing the talking but
there are magnets floating in my cerebral spinal fluid
and they are electric and they are on fire.
and if i only had binoculars then I could see the singularity,
the gift of eternal life at the eschaton.

Heaven is the wind that lifts me up by the insides.
i  relax so deeply into the present sometimes
i forget to breathe -
were it not for the magnets inside my spine
pulling me toward the singularity and
the eschaton and the Bright Lights.

there are such amazing playlists on spotify
artists and genres i’ve never even heard of.
thank God someone figured out what
these emotions sound like.
benedictions in southern pennsylvania
on the JBL charge 4
and i think i’m starting to accept
that life in the earth plane is
a baptism by electric fire.

Glory be to God in the highest for
sending me His messenger
winging words made of silver helix
strands of vibrating concept complexes
so the mercury can bring the sulfur to the salt.

I throw my head back and laugh like a junkyard dog.
i’ve been searching for the philosopher’s stone for years!
i just called the chase by other names
and searched for it where i thought it was to be found,
where they told me it would be:
court street and MLK blvd, Newark, NJ,
trap house, Grant St, Hazelton, PA,
the American Club, red light district, Agana, Guam.
somewhere in the Pacific or a fist full of wax bags
from my partner ****’ down pembroke outside bethlehem, PA
and a ten pack of clean B and Ds, small gauge,
waiting for me on his kitchen table.
Heaven over Heaven in the sky.

I checked my phone over three hundred times today.
mostly this is a wretched habit of unconscious hand but
quite often the Everywhere Spirit gives me personalized
messages of rapid ascension via all the “woke” social media handles.
there is a fire inside my heart and it burns me from the inside.
sometimes it opens so wide you can fit the whole world in there
and not lose any elbow room.
and the magnets carry me to the tallest pedestal in the
sky where everyone can hear and
i tell them everything is going to be ok.
i’ve seen the bad path and i’ve walked it
and God placed magnets in my blood and
i made it back alive and all the church bells are ringing.

the Holy Ghosts of our ancestors rejoice for the
cutting of the silver chords so they can
all fly away home to heaven.
and through the grave yards that lost their church bells with the churches
i walk with bells in my hands and i ring them so
that all the ghosts can go home.

we had a heart opener one night.
we all sat around the floor and opened our hearts for each other.
they opened so wide that it rained electric fire to
where everyone could see it and that makes
for a good memory.
but nothing is as it seems,
nor is it otherwise
and my heart can suddenly slam closed like
the cellar door of leatherface’s texas prairie
subterranean basement lair.
and i’ve been there before
but the fire in my heart shines upon the faces
of the all devil’s dark armada
and they don’t scare me anymore,
such is the brilliance of the flame,
and such is the pull of the magnets god placed inside my blood.

its been more than ten winters since court street, newark.
but to this day i think sometimes about
that frozen cat lying by the curb.
stiff from all the jersey winter night prowlin
freezing up it’s blood.
my heart was closed that day,
hiding all my fire.
but if I saw that cat today, why…
i would open my heart so wide that
winter would be no more and
all the frozen hearts of our fathers and our mothers
would burst wide with such love that
the Earth would tremble and all the
neutron stars would shoot across the
red horizons of our mind
and the light of heaven would be
reflected in the mirrors of our eyes.
and this light would be so bright that
all the archangels and the devas would
be out of a job.

God is in the pinprick of light
fastened to the back of the
long tunnels of my eyes.
God is in the space after the release
of my preoccupation with the opinions others hold of me
God is in the street light shining on an
amish girl flipping me the bird.

By Jordan Gee
those who to Earth from Heaven came.
Deep in the woods where the wild things roam

Back in the dark there are things

That happen at night when you'r all safe at home

When young men compete to be kings.

It happens each year when the falls fairs are on

These gatherings out in the dark

Thanksgiving arrives and the boys all move on

From these things that they do for a lark

The gauntlet's thrown down by the challenging swarm

To the winner of last years crusade

His blood doesn't boil, but it sure does get warm

Now that this years challenge is made

It normally starts at the Aylmer Fall Fair

"Josiah, you're not is our class!"

He doesn't fight back he just breathes deep and stares

For to him,  it's a sin for to sass

They show up at night, all dressed up in black

No surprise if you knew how they live

But tonight is the time, for them all to step up

For a Lesson's about to be give

The street was all dark, save a lantern or two

as the riders came out from the trees

These were not the old wagons you saw in the dark

These were ones that would make your heart freeze

Josiah stepped forth from the bustling crowd

Mr. Martin he said...I am here

Now is the time to show just how proud

of the horses you have over there.

I've heard of this race in the darkest of nights

Where the young men come out and are facing

Their fears and their hopes with only two lights

It's the start of Amish Drag Racing

It was something to see these men dressed all the same

Two big clydesdales each made up their team

But to both of these men, this was not just a game

This was the way that they all burned off steam

They didn't dare fight for that was a sin

And team sports didn't get the job done

None of them drank so there was no need for gin

And a barnraising just wasn't fun

Mr. Martin climbed up and he steadied his ride

Young Josiah just stood there and stared

Mr. Martin looked out, he was beaming with pride

Poor Josiah just stood looking scared

The starter came forth and he said to the men

With this hanky I will start the race

I will let it fly loose once I count to ten

And I let it fly free into space.

He counted it down and let go of the rag

And nobody moved from the post

Mr. Martins horse stood as did Josiahs old nag

And they both looked like they'd just  seen a ghost

The hanky was black just like ones they all had

And nobody saw him let go

The race buildup was great but the start was quite bad

In fact some men started to go

So, they tried it again with a different technique

Cause they found nothing there that was white

You can say it was strange but I say unique

To watch Amish men race in the night.

The horses lurched forth like two huge tyco trains

Sweat was poring from off of their backs

You could see from their eys it was really a strain

As their drivers took up the reigns slack

Equally paired, with two horsepower each

They tore up the road like a shot

But a really fast speed they both never would reach

Cause two clydesdales just don't run so hot.

Amish drag racing is really a night

To see if the other would show

For it's really no way to prove who is right

And the attendance is really quite low

So if you get invited and your hear of a race

That takes place where wild things  roam

Say you'd love to attend but you think to save face

You'd prefer not and would rather stay home.
..
POSSIBLE Feb 2016
There's a stranger at the door
Eyes are blurry and sunk to the floor
its the middle of the night and the noise causes fright
you open the door and fear what’s more

grabbed by the beard
assailed in the night
tribal lines feared
by the victims of tonight

They cut off my manhood
they cut off my might
Fanatic terrorism
Is the cult I must fight

But I would have rather died
sleep through the perils I’ve eyed
than to have this beard of mine cut
my manhood, my pride

This ego has fallen
by the hand of slandered, misguided pride

-Sam mullet must be tried
-sa fool that must be tried

When they stole my hair they stole my story
This beard was much more than identity allegory
They didn't steal it all though....

I escaped

To tell a story of fear in a horse and buggy ride
To alert the media and to simply confide
We never locked our doors before
you wondered “what violence” you s3nseless *****.

Schism between the mainstream and Mullet
and the scissors cut/divide communities apart
like a cook does a cutlet
Never forget the scissors that took my bucket-list ,
TerrorEYEz; learned helplessness, cult leader...****-it-quick.

.****.youSamMullet.
tabloid article

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