Sorrow Born out of Greed…

wisdom on Tuesday

ann johnson-murphree


On a warm summer day, an old soul returned to a place where parts of it remain for years.  Waiting  while misplaced pieces of it floated through life on waves of tears.  Many gathered on this day all had the same ancestral blood flowing through their veins.  Some came out of respect; the unbroken circle… was there for gain.

These mortals had tried to keep the old soul away from this final commemoration. They did not care about its many years of painful isolation.  Death had not fractured the unbroken circle had gone unchanged for years. The return of this old soul brought to the cloistered multitude panic and fear.

Disregarded, invisible with no right to be heard, the Old soul was damned in their every fearful word.  Watched closely, made to feel like a thief, an intruder daring to be a part of their…

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Set it Free

Love is patience, love is desire, love is a smile, love never fears, love is loving, it’s something you pass on, sometimes you set it free, to the universe it belongs, love is never controlling, you can’t force it, it comes naturally, it’s not focussed, together it is strong, in doubt it is weak, it’s not yours to begin with, even if we often weep, when it flies it grows, the way families explode, two become one, grows stronger still, you will never own it, it will own you, it’s the rule of creation, that’s the law of God, the creation of love on earth, are we good at it, not when we judge, not when we itemise, not that we should, give it time, it grows from strength to strength, too many folks try to own it for themselves, not easy being loving, in a world that tries to possess, it’s the reason why so much of life, is in a sorry mess, the attempts to own love, totally fruitless, amen, imagine tying to own something, something you can’t buy or sell, yet so many spend their life just doing that, the reason for it who can tell, and those who try to control life and everyone living, they will have to deal with, God Most High himself, hope they have a damn good excuse, haven’t heard a good excuse yet, amen.Image

Little Bee

Little bee coming home, pouch full of honey, shimmying left and right, breeze catches his hide, pushes his flight, in the distance home, goes a little higher, safe up there, waves at dragonfly, keeps eye on birds, can’t get too close, remember  uncle herb, buzz buzz buzz and more buzz, panic stations alarm bells, puffs of smoke, his little heart jumps, little bee hurries up, dives and dives, brothers and sisters, there’s always someone home, pulls up on tree, exhausted and perspiring, watches afraid to go near, fire and smoke panic, coughing and choking, friends join him, neighbours wanted the honey, rather than negotiate, decided to burn them out, poor bee homeless and sad, honey going to waste, unemployed as well, no wisdom in that.Image

Purely Accidental


Half truth innuendo and rumour, repeated themes re told and re told, news story of dictator led regimes, we hear about it all the time,

North Korea and other places, they play that song all the time, they repeat again and again, well, if you had your ears waxed, you’d realize that it’s happening everywhere, how we fall into slumber, once we assume we are stronger, than those far away, simple minds easy feeling too, nothing to worry about, that’s when it gets to you, unnoticed and out of the blue, well God Most High sees it that way too, you’ve been programmed, a long term medication program, of what to think and do, well, the guy in the sky, doesn’t enjoy having his party crashed, his guests interfered with, his love twisted and tarnished, imagine the welcome for those who program you, more coal on the fire Sean, and the little hearts that never got a chance to grow wisely, amen, there is nothing we can do about that, look at the sky tonight, wonder how the stars got there, assume it’s purely accidental, nothing new in that, amenImage

Morning Song – Please Mr. Postman

slowing down, is that a cliff i see over there, hurry up then and take a look….aaaaaahhhh


Yes, children, it’s true.  Once upon a time there were these things called “letters” that people would write by hand onto pieces of paper.  They’d then fold those pieces of paper, put them in an envelope, afix a “stamp”, put them in a large blue “mailbox”, and several days later the letter would be delivered to the person to whom the letter was addressed.  The whole experience was kind of like texting in some sort of alternate hyper-slo-motion universe in which each second lasted an entire day. (Ask your grandparents.)

What’s more, the experience of sending and receiving letters was so common a feature of romantic relationships in 1961 that “Please Mr. Postman” by The Marvelettes went to #1 on the pop charts, the first Motown single ever to reach the top of Billboard’s Hot 100.

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