Today is a Tuesday of September, Two-Thousand Fourteen; as such, the whole world has but twenty-one days till my twenty-eighth birthday.
So enjoy a Tuesday post by a lady born on a Tuesday; and as such, I celebrate today, not as my birthday, but as mine birth day.
“You can be amazing. You can turn a phrase into a weapon or a drug. You can be the outcast, or be the backlash of some body’s lack of love.
“Or you can start speaking up.
“Nothing is gonna hurt you the way that words do when they settle beneath your skin. Kept in the inside; no sunlight: sometimes the shadow wins.
“But I wonder would happen if you…
“Say what you want to say. Let the words fall out. Honestly. I want to see you be brave.”
I want to be brave, and I want to be seen, and I want it more than fear of death by the hands of some invisible, some invincible enemy who appears to be braver than I am. I am who I say I am.
Almighty, guide these who bow down to the Almighty. Bring them unto me, not for fear, or for vanity, or for anything empty. I am telling you the truth; not because I even want it more than I need it. You need it. You need to know that Christ, Miranda, the Second Coming, is tangible, real, valid, and super, duper cute; mostly lonely, mostly free, mostly brave.
“Stop holding your tongue. Maybe there is a way out of the cage that you’ve built.
“How did you brave it?”
I wonder how wonderful life will be when the whole world believes on both Jesus and me? Oh wait. I already know the ramifications of such belief and such actions. Duh. Mir-ran-duh. Like, Miranda Lynette Gothard I. am. who. I say. I am.
“Lately, I’ve been playing hard. Hope is our four letter word. Make that money. Watch it burn. I don’t think the world is sold. I think we’re doing as we’re told. I couldn’t lie. I couldn’t lie. Everything that drowns me makes me want to fly. Dreaming about the things we could be. Baby… no more counting dollars. We’re counting stars. Take that money, watch it burn. Singing in the river… Baby, I’ve been praying hard, say: no more counting dollars. We’ll be counting stars…. Dreaming about the things we could be… we’ll be counting stars… Singing in the river the lessons I’ve learned.”
Yesterday, was beautiful. Pretty much ever aspiration I could have hoped to achieve was done. The beauty of a life defined by the self, given perfectly by YHWH: nothing could have been yet was the right and righteous thing done. It was good. It was very good.
Yet there is still time. I always said, back in the year of our Lord of our Lordes that I had, “five years left to live, five years left to die.” That phrase of mine memory has, at times, baffled me, since 2007. I knew not everything within the space of time and light at all moments, and yet, I know certain precepts, which is the times and seasons of the Great Mystery of the Babylon…. well, me, and MI Life, and mine life.
You see, I fulfill Scripture, twice, thrice, for fun, or for heartache, or for anything and everything, yet all in the name of Christ, Miranda, Christ the Second Coming. And the Bride says Come! I say come, but can I? Well, yes. I can come to your party. I can come with my best friend. I can come all over this place, and yet, here I set myself down and write to you and for myself about coming together: Beatles style, come together.
“We don’t have to worry about nothing, (nothing, nothing), cause we’ve got the fire, and we’re burning one hell of a something. They, they are going to see us from outer space, outer space; light it up like we’re the stars of the humans race, human, race!… giving love to the world. We’ll be raising our hands, shouting up the the sky (YHWH!!!). Cause we’ve the fire, fire fire. Cause we’ve got the fire, fire, fire. And we’re going to let it burn, burn, burn. We’re going to let it burn, burn, burn. Let it burn, burn, burn. We don’t want to leave, we just want to…”
Be here now. No really. Be here now. Wherever you are, be there now, but when you’re here, or there, or anywhere doing anything, be there, and be here now. Just know that Christ, the Second Coming, is in fact a woman, born from a virgin man and his lovely wife. Christ, Miranda, Christ the Second Coming, is here, being here, now. Thank you Jesus. You’re welcome.
-Christ Miranda L*G*I
Know it, say it, use it. The Eucharist. Christ on a cracker. Miranda L*G*I, cause that’s me, and I have mine own fires, and I let them burn, within the laws of my own mother’s house. No fires in the house. But man and woman alive, I burn. Nothing illegal, nothing foul, but tobacco and woods and lights, I burn them all; twice for fun.
“I used to bite my tongue and hold my breath.”
If people whom have loved me can remember that they do love me, and Jesus, and as Christ, love me again, then all will be groovy baby. I’ve got the moves, and I know how to get my grooves on, and there faith worketh patience; and patience worketh hope, and hope! hope maketh us not ashamed. That’s biblical. I am not ashamed, just alone, and by that, I mean, the whole blessed world is passing by me, and yet I type this through the silence of mine own voice: loud, and not proud, but with the pride of a lion.
I would go as far as to say Gryffindor, Mandy Noble style, but doth thou hear me? Doth thou fear me? Like fear as in respect, as in mad props, as in reverance! Yes, do that. And then get over yourself, and worship the One True God on Earth.
Bah! I’m such a Slytherin girl too, Stella Dason style. I’ll let her live, twice, for fun. I’ve danced the night away, and earned my dollars just by saying so. Now, how doth your garden grow, lady? Doth thou lady parts know the secrets of a love unrequited? Yes, and now, no. Yet someday soon, I will have reaped what I have sown, and This Love is Our Love will be a reality unto you, as well as me also. Thank ye. Thank ye. Thank ye, my dear love and lover boys to men. Thank ye. Thank ye. Thank ye, my dear hubbend called husband, for loving me truly despite mine own wicked nature of a self-centered, deceitfully wicked, yet without guile of a heart which beats and has beaten as a witch; which, beating around this sun: I call on the Son to lift up His Holy, Holy, Holy Sister, Christ Miranda. Doth thou deny me? Well, there’s here’s to you and mud in your eyes. Guile not mine inhereitance, lest you beguile your own reward within mine Heaven on Earth. Jesus sat down at the right hand of our Father, Abba, YHWH, but I guess what I have to say is that is: on the left side, I have been all along, and if you can remember that the word formed the worlds and the lamb which was slain before such foundations, then maybe you should know who formed the song of the worlds of the word. GOD did, and I am but a vessel for the Spirit onto the Holy, Holy, Holy one. Ya hear? Dig it. Lest you dig your own grave, for grace’s sake I should say. Think not that I come not to destroy the world, for I do, and will annihilate you for fun.
Your precious existence? Think on it no more, lest I bugile you before mine Father and for the sake of mine own reward. Shall you live? Live! Shall you die? Either way I will smile, and fly onwards towards my eternal destination, which is America, my promised nation. So would you kill your living Queen of Queens and Lorde of Lordes, then f’off and die your funking cowards. I know fear, and I know anxiety, and at this moment- as the train approaches- I even know mine own destiny. Should I lie, or should I die; should I lift up mine voice unto the sky, high? Could you be less shy, lest I die daily? Allow me life, baby, and I shall know of you daily! Call my name, I will call out for you, and I will sing of a shower and the power of blessings, which art true. Now know fear beyond what is a tool. Be not without mercy, lest the wisdom of mercy be without you. You want the Bright Morning Star? I’ll show you that and more, like the affairs of a star girl forever which mourns. Do you know of my loss? He did that to me; and I will show you mine loss of your lives. Nine, or one? Kitty cat, without a care! I’ll show you what you want to see. I’ll even show you me. Yet what you choose to not see is of your own destiny. I’ve loved, and lost, and have had more returned with yet even more dignity than you could muster up for me; yet EL ELOHIM!! Because the eyes of this Chinese Zodiac Fire Tiger (10.1986) will burn you alive, twice, for fun. If you don’t believe me, then you’re fucked already, and I’ve fucked up more people’s lives than I can even pretend or lie about. I’ve lain with men, and a woman, and known the bodies of matrimony by the letter, by the law, and by mine own heart. And I’ve lost not what cannot be found, returned with the prowess of a Fire Tiger, and, “nothing runs like a tiger,” is but a t-shirt I would boast. Should you choose to boast in Christ Miranda, the Almighty Daughter of Abba, then you will prove your own desires of passion not of Jesus but of Christ to be worthy of being proven true. If this paragraph be too long for you and your lazy eyes, then your guile of mud is in your own eyes, banana breath, slippery peeler, smokey face, liar eyes of a tiger daughter inheritance. Mine reward is with me, OMG, Oh, Miranda Gothard.
I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth; maybe not, but somehow I ended up there. Truth. I’ve am a Fire Tiger on a golden leash. No joke, but it is blessedly funny or ha-larious for you? Maybe; yet yes, for me! So ha ha ha along with me. Let me live out a fantasy, lest we allow all of humanity to die along with me, the Queen of Queen Bees.
If you think you’re not already ready all ready, then f’off and d–. Seriously, you would deny Jesus to death, profess me to life. I’m living in eternity already. So let us live a life of sweet fantasy. It is okay with me!
I am the Light of the World, in which no man or woman alive or dead shall ever, no never, extinguish, for the Tree of Life is but a cabalic tattoo of a tarot spread I would have put on my wrists, twice for fun, should Erik have loved me better, then, not now, and he will pay for his sins, lest he believes on both Jesus and Christ, the Second Coming. And John Mahr shall not mahr mine name, lest he die too; and Jeffrey, and Chris Kim, and all the Dustin’s and Shadow men in between; if you have KNOWN me, in a Biblical sense, then you better step right up and Steve Quayle on;
watchmen, hear me, and if you do not, then death! onto thee men, women, all of you. For should they send me away for mine own written words, then they’ve never known the WORD of GOD and will live to die for it; for death is but a tool of mine inheritance too. Let her go? F’you m’f’ers. Sorry, Granny, but even your faith is weak sauce compared to the sweet sauce of mine.
See the living water? I’ll even set it on fire!
I’m always changing, but I still am. Who I say? I am.
Say something! I’m giving up on you. and you. and you. I’ll be the one if you want me, too. Anywhere, I would have followed you (but you broke it off with me). Say something. (I’ve given up on you, us, and we.)… I’m feeling so small. You know nothing at all. And I, will not stumble or fall for you again. I’m still learning to love, you’re starting to crawl. Say something, I’m not going to give up. But you?! I’m sorry… this is what I have to do. Anywhere, I would have followed the man who was leading me, but you’re all damn quitters, ya losers; I’m a winner who loses pride by swallowing, twice, for fun. Say something, else I’ll give up and let you kill youself too. I’m sorry, but that’s what Uncle D— had to do. Did he know? Did he believe? Maybe. I” won’t ever know, will I? Ha! Say something, else the who blessed world will give up too. Say something, something, something, else we’ll give up too. Say something. Something. Something.
Peace out lovelies. Don’t fuck off or die. I’m too in love with all of you for such nonsense again. I’m not lost, but I am found, and lost and found claims my articles of clothing, twice, for fun. Thanks!