Of a Mothers Jedi powers. Even when asleep. Like wheat seeking missal. She will drag the truth right out of you. And wash your mouth out with holy soap.
And it’s not necessarily a bad thing? I’ve come to find it a comfort. Mama. In Oregon? Washington? Where ever the hell that woman goes? Is tracking me. Like come on man?
Seriously? Oh and she’s tracking on Angela. Lol.
Like I am a witness. Awake and bright eyes and bushy tailed. Watching my Mama work on us all? And I am reporting what I see? Holy shit balls and riot!! No demon from hells gonna stop her prayers are ignited. Slapped in her face through her daughter from her daughter. Not disrespect? No. But for her awakening!!
Like holy cow. Watch out. Mamas riled up. Woooooo!! She shook! I mean shits a movin around and all crazy? I’m getting downloads like crazy. I’ve always been synced up with my Mama. To even think different is crazy? And how I love you all is proof of my love for my Mama. Damn it.
My own Mama prayed me in with her heart calling for better. Well Betty Crocker’s got the right recipe. I know who I am. Ohhhhhh. But I played you like a fiddle. And everyone sung a tune. And I know, note by absence of tones how to read harmony’s and retune them.
My Mamas felt this crying? She couldn’t find it. Because she stored in Pandora’s box of madness. Songs tell us through the madness if we read harmony and rhythm. I’m gifted.
Angela fires up Chelsie. Which got my mind twisting. Like a tornado. Angela stokes my fires. Burning the dead wood away. My mind was on fire. Carnage and ashes all around me, from my waking. Wings unfurling. Queen of my Dragon Tobias. Celtic descendent. British descendent. Blah blah blah. Line of messiah as all we.
And I light the fire under my Mamas ass! Slap that woman’s mind silly. And she took it! Because she’s gotten stuck in the old story that was changing. Her tornado queen of a dragon child’s homecoming. Oh. Oh. Oh. And she’s ready. To embrace it in all of its glory.
But. Mama started it. That’s the tale of this story of mass may hemms of dear Mamas. Who’s. Got hair like Medusa. She can pray your pants off. And lovingly correct you from anywhere in this planet. Straight up. Tested. To the Max.
Star of David approved. Flying all the colors of the rainbows of hope she tapped into with each mother through her fervent prayers. She leading an army bowed down on her knees and has commanded me home.
I’ve been arrested. By my own Mama.
She passed the test. And so did I.