Forty Years

And no Parole!

the judge hammers the desk, the warden waits for the new arrivals

, seen so many of them, troubled young men, who strike out, the victim just happens to be there, but the real victim was born forty years ago. The young man is taken away, he shuffles in chains, his spirit drowning, the end of his life, well, who will want him now, prison will soon be the only home he knows. Solomon heard the story, forty years before, the numbers tied up emotionally, how so many end tied up in chains, it was a warning all those years ago, but the system wasn’t listening, it was building prisons all those years. Is there room for anymore howls the guard, the young men are black american, Hispanic, and he is their best friend now. No father, a child dries up emotionally, seeks the answers, hears all those preachers, saying the same, none of them he remembers as a child, as he didn’t own no credit card, amen.

There is a legacy issue, Solomon sighed, for years they treated the growing minority as if the white man owned the universe, he was white all right, but that was his soul, not the color of his skin, amen.

Lost Children

where have all the flowers gone, where has all the innocence gone, it is the era of the lost generation, but it was no cause for despair, the enlightened were working to fix the issue, there were angels appearing from all sorts of places, the message was being made clear, where have all the children gone. She’s ten acts thirty, she is addicted to adulthood but can’t control it, the lost generation, the search party found them at last, amen.

Being Used

Doesn’t know any different, born this way i suppose, emotionally connected, it’s how she survives, her support system is non existent, she’s out on a limb, she knows no other way, traded since she was a child, she’s told to do the same with her own, and this is her routine. Solomon was reminding himself, we are all victims of our rearing, but for some it’s very dark. There is a demon, and the mind gamers who support, trail the interests of the believer, hoping to find an avenue into their fears. Ever watch full, he wasn’t surprised, saw the darkness to often, he could recognise it, but rarely let on. the story he read, affirmed by what he encountered a day later. Did they realise there was a Heaven, and it was something worth getting used to, amen. The interests we create for ourselves, and where they lead us, solomon  was just learning himself.

Are we allowed to criticize anymore!

Have an opinion, well you’ll probably lose your job, Yes men, whatever you do, don’t criticize, you’ll face a barrage of lawyers to begin with, instigate a workforce against you, possible get yourself burned, happened to Joan of Arc, whom later was deemed a saint, have an opinion it

s fine, just don’t tell anyone, she’s afraid to say anything, it’s the story of the silent majority in most places, until the election comes along, at least your vote is private but little else. Propaganda, you better have an opinion, well you’ll hear it so often, it’s all you’ll be able to remember. Repeat and repeat, eventually you become what you eat, and that includes the mentality you acquire. Solomon was reminding himself of the work of many reformers, who had to go to the ends of the earth to be heard, same could be said of Pope Francis, who declared the wrongs of the church he has come to guide out of the doldrums, and he faced huge difficulties even among his own, for criticizing the regime openly. Solomon regularly cast ideas and thoughts into his prayers, and to this day wondered, in the year 2016, why there was no adult section to the worldwide web, as surely, the children of the current generation, deserved head space, before they learned more about the world.

Little Feet

Gushing mothers, play school, the little ones together, getting to know each other, having fun, a coffee a chat, a little this and that, talking about their little feet. The bell goes, the yard empties, they are a few years older, four five maybe, teacher is tired, it’s a Monday morning, still learning about patience, those little ones don’t behave like adults, they have the adventure you see, little feet are always wandering, it’s called being normal, wanting to take a step further. A year of two later they wise up, pull the strings of whoever, know how to get the best of you, little feet no more but still little feet to mother. Solomon was reading the story, there was a lot to read about, the tale of women in trouble, not on account of themselves, but because of a lot of wrongs not rights. The article was an appeal, would there ever be a change of mind, the need for some to control the mind of others, vulnerable women, their daughters, and young children. He saw them on their knees, it wasn’t a pretty sight, then sighed, wait till they see the image from above, it will give them all a little fright, and perhaps, be good for all those little feet, amen. The Holy Spirit arrived one night, and from that day his petitions and prayers were heard, and being a student of love, he had to listen as well, amen.

Where’s The Medication

Can’t put it down it always picks me up, when i can’t find it i cant sleep, when i find it it’s such a relief, all that medication, prozac, zanex, valiums, and a thousand other combinations to choose from, which one will i choose to day, the void is everywhere i look, not happy with the doctor, the teacher, Donald trump, the news, everywhere i look, i feel a need for more medication, and it’s just so, i can’t survive without it, it’s in my head, my friends are on the stuff, not forgetting the billion or so addicted to it, has taken the lives of many people, some famous, the few, but the others who live in silence, in the western world, they talk of breakthroughs in health treatments, but no one has ever wondered who we got to using so much medication. Solomon wondered what had them all going crazy, depression, sleeplessness, stress, common with children, was there anyone out there capable of even presenting it as it was and is, a global pandemic, where’s my medication darling. Solomon encountered the best medication there is, proof of Real God Most High, not by books but by his own eyes, made him sit up and think, who needs medication, if all your going to do is worry about it.


Anger, resentment, pissed off with the neighbor, a friend to remind you, getting paid to upset people, getting used to hurt, enjoying the pain of it, knowing the fix that will help you escape it, the tranquilizers first, the bottle, the other hidden addictions, getting one over on somebody, and you call it a victory. The lawyer schemes, fills the client with ideas, doesn’t tell him to do it, just explains a thing or two, victory, the man does his neat work, the honest man is bludgeoned, the evil one goes free, victory for the lawyer, client gives him the bonus, the off shore bank account gets a boost, the local hospital is left short again, the wheel chair is not replaced, the nurse is taken off the rota, the old man is left alone, victory. Great, the estate agent smiles, with the cash he can bribe the bank manager, and the heroin continues to flow, the addicts grow in number, the honest souls don’t know what do do, victory. The lawyer, the estate agent, accountant and pals sip champagne and eat snacks, rare caviar that came direct from the black sea, victory. Solomon sighed, didn’t they know they were walking on thin ice, he’d encountered the Holy Spirit, so he began to write about it, the Real Victory, amen.