big hands, big feet, or what's a heaven for?

sometimes you just want to be able to move around freely in your surroundings. you want to feel like you can grasp outsized things with your own big hands, uproot them if you have to, if that's what it takes to set yourself apart, or to set some folks free, even from themselves.

sometimes that's not enough. you want to scoop 'em up and hold them in your broad but cushioned paws. you walk, no you stride, giant land-gobbling strides to take your charges with you on your very capable, grippy feet...can't you feel your big toes digging into the soft, cool earth with each proud step you take? Are the souls of your feet refreshed by contact with this rich burial ground, this aboreal paradise set all around you?

sometimes you become inpatient. honestly, you just want to take those big hands of yours and reach out and throttle somebody; maybe just one fool or two at a time; maybe a whole bunch of fools at once. Maybe you could just squish 'em together a little bit...or perhaps you'd care to just squash a single stupid fool down into that old, rich soil under your gorilla like feet. Head out or head in? It wouldn't take much effort, perhaps just one mighty squish of your big ass foot on his dumb-as-a-fucking-stake-in-the-ground head.

sometimes you really just want to gather up folks in your big hands and having done so, give them one big, loving squeeze. Like momma used to give. The kind of squeeze that wrings out all the hurts and poisons, all the trauma of modern dysfunctional life. Perhaps a squeeze that would remind one of a mother's love, a father's kindness; a boss's mercy, or of a lover's need. MAYBE JUST ONE good long squeeze without the popping sound, one that would create instant quiet; a nestled moment of peace and safety from the panicked movements and epileptic fulminations of fools, accompanied by the rustling and scurrying of all too familiar idiots, lying scoundrels-the thoughtless output of millions of angry, lonely, dessicated, middle aged men, or even worse, their squeeze dried, lying wives. Crushed souls and egoists all. Brave only when giving the finger to another driver. they sit and cheer ugly people on tv all day long.

sometimes when a good feeling sweeps through you,you don't wait any longer. simply grab 'em. who? anyone near or foolish enough to stand there, staring at you. like mighty Gulliver, you carry them off, while squelping like pups, their mouths now open in amazement, their eyes wide open, they just stare at you unable to speak any longer. stuck in prayerful silence. Now, the laughter that cannot be distinguished from anguished cries subsides and melts away. Only the sound of your own foot steps mark the way, each giant step a life's stride for those you carry in your big hands.

on your big feet, you can see both far and wide, from humanity to inhumanity; standing tall as you do, your big feet planted firmly and resolutely under you, you are like an atoll in the sea. your big hands clasped together as if to give comfort to themselves, overflowing with resolute love. Big hands and big feet, providing mighty comfort, protection, peace and finally, much healing. care to take a walk with me?