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“The House That Jack Built” — AMERICA ON COFFEE… a re blog, the Great Aretha with Sounds

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“The House That Jack Built” is a song written by Bobby Lance and Fran Robbins and performed by Aretha Franklin. The song reached #2 on the U.S. R&B chart and #7 on the Billboard Hot 100 in 1968.[1] The song’s B-side, “I Say a Little Prayer”, reached #3 on the U.S. R&B chart, #10 on […]

via “The House That Jack Built” — AMERICA ON COFFEE

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How’d We Get Here

 

It’s dark, there seems to be life everyhwere but no light, breathing sounds, slow movemements, it does smell okay, problem is, you can’t see anything, Fred is trying to work out what happened, he was on a night out, then nothing. He’s been here for days, and time goes so slowly, when you have no idea what to do or where you are, how’d we get here. He wriggles around, there is a spot of light, it’s brighter over there, and, he procedes slowly, the survace is broken, intense light, fred pulls himself up onto the ground, recognises, trees he thinks, and that’s grass, How Did I get here. Barney hawk is flying overhead, out for the breakfast, spots a movment down in the grass, he must be a hundred feet above it, but it does not matter when your eyes are radars. Barney, flies on, anything for the after course, nothing unusual, he swings back. Fred is still trying to get his bearings; adjusting to the new life takes time, said so in the PHD management manual he used to study, that he recalls, his memory is still patchy. Claws extended, one grab, Fred is now having a paraglding experience without the parachute, wow he says, how’d we get here. It’s good to be prepared sighs Fred, having recently increased his life insurance cover; he had a lot of enemies.

Steering Lady

She has a great sense of humor, laughs at silly jokes, is a bit pensive, has a shy streak, but not behind the wheel, she can spot a pot hole from a hundred meters, a swing left, she misses that one, a shimmy, she misses another, when behind the wheel she forgets herself, she is transported in time, freedom. The ability to dream, escape from the hum drum, the need to express yourself, Solomon smiled, the steering lady is a friend of his, amen.

The King and I

A glass of water, a kind word, a hopeful smile, the boy wonders down the street, his mother and sister is ahead of him, he has ideas, his eyes wander from side to side, absorbing it all, it’s all new to him, his first time in the place where he stands. He is young, has seen plenty, wants me time, others like himself, games and thrills, it should not be that hard. Solomon watched the kid stroll along, that boy has attitude he sighed, the look in the eye, …

He was weighing up his new surroundings, feeling it out. Eye contact is made, the child makes a wry smile, I’m new here, just testing the water.

Solomon sighed, the old story, the well being of Spirit, what we do for others, that was who we are, and according to the words of Jesus, that was and is, the acid test, good intentions fine, actions much better. As the signs were coming faster than a Mother about to give birth, so it felt, and there are major awareness’s everywhere, and those who are extremists are feeling the pinch, in these times of Great Change, it was wise to remind oneself, how we would judge ourselves in relation to our lives, what would we find, a welcome from the King hopefully, amen…

Chocorua Part 3: The Feathered Seer Returns

the signs are all around us

The Light Behind the Story

I had brought one more thing for my journey, which was not mentioned in Part 2. In the pocket of my shorts was a small bag stuffed with tobacco, the procuring of which is a small story by itself. When I asked my friend Darlene what I should bring for an offering, her definitive answer was “tobacco.” There was no budging her, but I tried. The thought of buying a tin of tobacco, or a packet of cigarettes, filled me with mild terror. Irrational perhaps, but a childhood that involved the illegal growing and smoking of “pot” by my parental figures turned me against all manner of smoking. The only cigarette I’ve smoked was in one very vivid dream. That was enough for me.

So, here I was faced with one of many tests during this journey, before it even started. How to procure some tobacco. And, as I…

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How Many Victims do you Need?

Solomon sighed, the dream, the frenzy, the fear, the blood hatred in the eyes of those seeking justice, the lengths they were willing to go, they wanted their victim, they sought blood. Was this a re telling of the Great Play, by William, The Merchant of Venice, how our desire for so called justice blinds the light inside us.  It was dream time, and he was sharing the worries of another, a young relation of a war victim, as everyone who partakes in war are victims, the winners and the losers, what are they left with; the fields of Vietnam, the concentration camps of world war two, so many victims. Solomon reflected on how the values of an older generation were side lined, as a more modern minded, justice now mind set, took over the leadership of many flocks, and how they used past hatreds to corral the flock into action. None of them held memorials for the millions of children, abused indirectly over the internet, having to digest what few of us could escape unharmed from. How many lives had ended, when the posse was in pursuit, Jesus among them, the thirst for justice becoming a drug as the mob got larger and larger. Revelation sighed Solomon, they might not listen to the words of the Prophets, but they did react to revelation, knowing their day for their judgement could arrive any given day.

Solomon smiled, he caught the dream, listened, saw the spotlight shine on the so called refugee, villain, the light shone for a minute, perhaps less, the mob now has a thirst, the chase over this time, they headed off in search of another. Father, Teach them he prayed. They try to raise the fears in others to justify themselves; and the harm they cause grows like a virus. Solomon say the signs, saw the Spirit, what a sight, and every day since, he was writing rescue remedies, with a lot of success.