The Flight

Washed by spitum from the drooping lips of the dying angel, i recieve the command baton to war against the dreadful monsters from outer space. With a bible from Bernadette Soubirous i whip like Arthur's excalibur, cutting squirming tails and bursting goric eyes until i come face to face with the Republican Guards of East Hell. I wrestle Hitler with a doze of morphine, sing Beelzebub to sleep with a tune from ancient biblical Ruth and recieve extra light from the Eagle Nebulae to frighten approaching fiends in to their darksome burrows. They came to retrieve the secret of the sacred feminine given to Dan Brown on easter night by angel Micheal. Now on once raging battle fields stand, dead demons and rotten evil spirits and the poster "Beyond the Knowing of Man." Then i clutch the scrolls from Nag Hammadi and the convenant from Damascus on a night flight to Zion's Hill. Jesus welcomes me in pomp that words can never craft. Two years later CNN makes my flight the new twenty first century scripture.