This Time – #Musings on #Poetry — A re blog

. In this Time Before Time As Time unravels Time; This Sharing Sharing what we Shared Shares more than Sharing; Whispers Lingering Lingering in Soft Whispers Touching my Spirit Whisperingly As Time Before this Time Unravels my Time Of Sharing Whispers . So often we let ourselves fall into the well of Time, but most […]

via This Time – #Musings on #Poetry — Booknvolume

Donald’s Big Gun Story

Don’t open your mouth, hold your breath, that’s important, slowly, very slowly, now ease the trigger. The school principal is on the range, doing an examination. Have I time to adjust my glasses he says. There is a bead of sweat on his brow. He is training for the new core curriculum, according to Donald.

Solomon watched the TV debate, a first in real time, Donald himself doing the chairing; it’s candid, it’s not showy, and behind the scenes, TV executives are anxious, what is he going to do next. 400 million legal fire arms, a human army, in one country; this is not Afghanistan, (they have to import their weaponry, so do the Mexicans) this is real time America. In the public outcry after the school shooting, something has to be done, the thorny issue, the gun lobby, and the right to bare arms (not get a tan by the way, but to hold a gun). Is exploitation the new core industry everywhere?

Trillions are at stake, and every war zone and dictator in the world depends upon the arms industry. And getting your product to the market place, inevitably involves the loss of life. It’s called security, there are many ways they frame the issue. Hysterical officials and politicians, all have the same call, something has got to give;. it’s the arms industry or it’s us.

Dexter you are squeezing too hard his instructor says. Dexter is getting high on the smell of the gun powder, the burning smell, it hits the nostrils, Dexter always wanted to be John Wayne.

Donald might upset many people, but this time he got his aim right.

Is the world a safer place, is there a threat online, are we being cushioned from a greater truth. Solomon watches the conference. He changes channels, momentarily. A suburb of Damascas, it’s raining bombs, neighborhoods in ruins, planes fly overhead. He switches back, the conference is still going on. A day later, they are still raining bombs, the guns are still being manufactured. Naive perhaps, maybe, but there was a time not long ago, when it was difficult to acquire a good illegal smoke. Years later, it’s everywhere. Same for the arms industry. amen.

Solomon encountered the cloud, and saw blessings flow. He encountered Great Spirit, the real kind not the imaginary. He saw the signs, the repeating events, numbers too. How many reforming super groups, all reforming. It spoke of the divine influence. Imagine it, real time proof of divine assistance, it is a good time to be humble and mean it. amen

Money Money Money…

it’s all I hear about, it’s all I hear about, the news, the cost of everything, it’s all I hear about, day and night, and if that doesn’t get me, then I hear about the lottery I just missed, it could be you two, and it flows and flows, like those images in the paper, under wear busts the gossip the cars, all pointing, money money money. When God Most High was spoken of in terms of wisdom, the scribe said, the foolishness of humankind has no equal.

Solomon imagined the great Picasso painting the wall of the bakery across the road, while his great works of art stayed in his apartment. If the world valued money over everything else, as time had proved over and over, what did It say for human wisdom, when the same money could be doubled over night with the switch of a button: it appeared to be pure foolishness, amen, just as the old scribe said.

You need money, they reminded him daily, and why was that he wondered. They fed demons he fed the Great Spirit, who were the fools in the end, amen.

orwell einstein

Orwell Einstein was a rather clever man, when all around were chasing goals, Orwell watched
and say what was going on. one day he tasted meat from the local butcher, it wasn’t real smooth
it was fatty not lean not a good looker, he took it home, splashed it on the pan even turned it
over, brown around the edges onions stacked on top, Orwell smiled as he opened his mouth wide
and took a large bite out, well he tried to drag his teeth away but instead they fall out, no more
meat for Orwell Einstein, a fish lover he became, then one day he tried the farmed version, looked red
and all that stuff, but it didn’t have the smell or flavour, of the wild version he was used to, Orwell
became a vegetarian, have you tried a tomato or an egg lately, or do you get used to it like all the
others. many years later, Orwell Einstein became a professor, spent his life examining matter and
how it would work out, and his conclusions were one and the same. us, when the bee’s go we go after.
at least we have the vision of Orwell EinsteinIMG_5756 to get us thinking again, perhaps as 1, like when you
love, you don’t measure

The Holy Spirit

Imagine it, a power from Heaven, that comes with the help, Imagine it, you can say what you like against the Son of Man, imagine it, you can say what you like about Jesus, you can be forgiven, but say anything against the Holy Spirit, just imagine it, well you don’t have to, it’s written, that’s one border you can’t cross, and it renders the demon useless, amen.

Encouragement

I went in his house and sat down. I was a stranger. And he took it upon himself To make me feel comfortable. He did. Just a feel good moment.

via I Was A Stranger — The Chatter Blog

Give Me Shelter from my fears…

What was there to hang on to, what was there to worry about, she was being moved on again, the lady in the old gray coat. Her dreams were years ago she can hardly remember, but she held on as long as she was made to, then decided to throw it all out. The bags are stuffed full, she pushes the trolley, her sleeves rolled up, its not that cold, besides you get used to it, she sighs. Those arms were so smooth once she remembers, then again, so they, did any of her friends remember, hardly.

Passed on the street, she snarls under her breath, they are looking at me, she would she says to herself, as if her life was all that mattered, and it did, but that was part of the disease, she walks up the steps of the great cathedral, there is always comfort there, and all of a sudden she wakes up, reaches out her hand, and feels him beside her; just a dream he sighs as he holds her close to his side. He gave her shelter from her fears, she remembers,

amen.