Pablo Escobar

Billions spent on the search, minds applied, technology deployed, resources unlimited, congress approved, when they are interested, there is no shortage of effort, wish the same effort was applied to social needs, they probably just forgot, meanwhile, many years after his death, record levels of drug use across the planet, more and more getting addicted to the gadget by the day, children under more stress than ever, the environment quaking at the seems, sounds as if they spent too much time on Pablo, the cheers that went up in some places the day he died, hardly a breath today, a case of bad management, would you not say. Being poor, it is a struggle, as those in the comfy seats never move aside, while those with the wealth, only want more.

Meanwhile, the technology gained from the death camp experiments in Germany during the great war, used to create the nuclear device, the means of our quick disposal, in the hands of some unsteady men, Pablo understood them better than most. Before the critic in you responds, I don’t advocate drug use, it’s all over the place as we write, it’s just a case of stating what is correct, happy new year, amen.

 

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The Party at the Inn

She is going through the list, who will she invite. She is very particular, doesn’t want to offend her guests, doesn’t want to upset anyone, mostly herself, it’s an image she has to protect, so she tells herself. The cost of it going wrong, she could lose the friendships of those who can help, her career is all that matters, the money is pouring in, and her manager wants to ensure it keeps that way. He deftly reminds her, the maintenance costs alone are staggering dear, and you love to swim in the pool, she does she admits, things, they can keep her occupied.

She checks the list, all are well to do, there is no need to be embarrassed, everyone will get along fine, she passes the list to her manager for approval, well, he has steered her well so far, she is busier than Elvis in her prime, besides, she had thrown a few dollars into the shelter, a few turkeys and boxes of sweets, they’ll think it Christmas, and she will give her ego a kick.

He reads the statement, the transfer overseas, the pension fund he reminds himself, the accountant is going to get a bonus, the fund is out performing the best estimates, it’s gravy all around. He reads the invitation, another of those parties, he wonders if he will bother, thinks twice, there might be a few worth networking around.

Is it all they do, count money, measure, size up, have they heart, is there any

spirit in them, Solomon imagined God Most High listening to the goings on, the pride and the foolishness of it all, no thought given to the eternal. Some party though….

A knock at the door, the butler purses his lips, she couldn’t possibly know this person, too shabby, and the face, drawn, I’m Mary, she says, a man stands at the gate, she has a bump, move on says the butler, madame has no time for you, he points to a shelter down the road, that’s where your type go. Solomon sighed, was the story of old all about the well being of Spirit, and the welcome it could look forward to, just imagine it…. isn’t a pity it’s only a crisis when there is no way out and never before, damn, wheres the party..?

Mean Spirits

Your Spirit can’t be of God, if your mean spirited, it’s simply that, and those who claim otherwise, who are they fooling, no one. The young man was listening to the prophet, he wanted insight to the way, or was he testing the wisdom of the prophet, he had friends who were of the most devious nature, worshipers of demons, this he didn’t know. Even the mention of the word, demon, would upset him.

What do you mean, “Mean Spirited”, where does it end, what do you mean. Is this something he still hasn’t learned,..

if you don’t give time to others, not your friends only, they give you time, do you ponder on the ways of righteousness, do you

assist the flow of love, are you out for yourself all the time, are you greedy, does power infatuate you, have you read the ancient scriptures, at the very least have you tried to become wise…

The young man sighed, he looks brow beaten, why did I ask he wonders?. The old prophet recognizes the goodness in the young soul, how they deal with all the distractions, it’s a miracle they made it here.

Cheer up young man, you are going to live a great life, you have taken the first step, you asked for help. Pray and dedicate your life to seeking wisdom, and all will be fine. The young man burst into a smile, the frown gone. He was being bullied for having “strange beliefs”, having faith in the world above, he seemed not to fit in.

Solomon sighed, across the world there were many on the road to wisdom, and they needed all the help there is, he pauses, great signs usually follow such requests. The lady in the chair, those praying for healing help, those on the path needed guidance from above. A given he smiled, the changes were continuing, amen.

World Behaving Strange! (WBS)

 

Abnormal was the new norm, centered abnormality, maybe, it made sense of the signs, reform needed, no doubts, and no spin was going to change that one. Men behaving as women, women boasting of their sexual prowess, in a nutshell, a crazy world, demons laughing, for a awhile but not laughing now, aware of the gravity of the situation, fixers doing their utmost, cash thrown around to find solutions,

Solomon shook his head, did they see the signs, reform, all of them,

Many were turned into babbling fools, secrets exposed, off shore and everywhere, the Holy Spirit pouring out, opening hearts and consciousness, a well executed plan, the shields of deception full of holes, sudden changes, strange results, the closing of the gap between east and west, ancient cities uncovered, miracles, sudden weather changes,

amen.

 

and all they could come up with,

 

the ways that failed everywhere,

amen.

Mess Up for Heaven’s Sake

She is an addicted cleaner, she spots dirt, she blows a fuse, her temperature rises, it’s as if she has spotted a demon, out comes the chemical rescue, a squirt here and there, got ya she smiles, while killing anything organic nearby, will you leave me in peace he says, she has the brush under his feet, he is trying to watch TV. She doesn’t listen, this has been the way for years. Solomon sighed, those were the days, a memory that makes him laugh, it wasn’t anything to be shy about.

Being an educator, you can’t make a cake without creating a mess, same way you can’t teach a child without getting upset, difference is, what comes out of the oven. The boy is small, a learner, just imitates and wants to get on with life, pulls a chair to the sink, playing with water, everyone small loves it, the splash and the mess. Roll up your sleeves, the boy turns his head, will you shut up he says, there is a smile on his face,  i said roll up your sleeves, I don’t do laundry.

The mess continues, there is water on the floor, there is water everywhere, are you finished yet, the child is washing the dishes, placing them on the side, Solomon is watching carefully, doesn’t want the kid to slip, eventually, eventually, the wash up is done, it’s time to negotiate. The dinner is always a task, how do you get them to eat healthy, do you remember the wash up he says, the child nods, doesn’t notice the spoon in the air, open up, the boy opens his mouth, another mouthful gone.

Mess up for heaven’s sake, there is bargaining power in it, it’s not just mess, it’s real learning. The mothers look at Solomon, what do you know about feeding children, he sighs, there is a cake on the table, he reaches for it, not before you have eaten your dinner they say, i suppose.

The Golden Child

They need a few words, the King asks, where is the poet, he must write the lines. The pages are before him, he wants to fill them with words, it’s the story of the inner child, the secret place where angels dwell, the mountains of bias and ego don’t exist yet, there is nothing to blind the little one. Everywhere he goes, he can see them, Spirits, only eyes that young can see them, eyes that have not been burdened.

Solomon read the paper over his coffee, the usual, the weekend games, the pundits and their fury, the fate of another manager, by the next day, it would all be forgotten, same way the car park fills and empties, we take new places, and we rarely remember where we parked the day before, unless it’s reserved of course, and we are made to feel important.

A baby sits before the music man, too young to be a fan, can’t spell his name, can’t recall the lyrics, he just bobs his head and listens, the rhythm gets him, and so it gets the angels, who he see’s floating about, cause he is not blinded by things yet, but can see what seems eternal, the way faith is, you can’t see it, you can’t hold it, all you can do is

pass it on. The baby nods, listens with his friends, amen.

To be part of the Kingdom, as Jesus would say, you have to be just like that child. Solomon sighed, it’s amazing what you learn from a simple picture, amen.

Diary of a Friend

You don’t have to mind your words, you can stand on each others toes, say what is on your mind, and be what you are. In the real time world, where spin is the order of the day, how often to we have full on straight conversations, unsure uncertain do I sound all right, challenged you can’t handle that, then you encounter a friend, not a stranger you will never meet again, I never knew you loved cold potatoes, the stuff you can say, the openness of the heart and the flow, the same as a good tune that rolls across your head, the head bobs the face slides the beat goes on, that’s how real friendship grows.

Solomon sighed, an old friend, not too well, haggard at times and getting to the end of the journey, they meet in a place where the elderly live, there isn’t much life apart from the care, and if you have a working mind it can get very tough, the inability to express yourself fully, the nods and the sighs as you try to be polite and not offend. Well, Solomon caught the manual and threw it out of the window, started shooting from the hip and saw the Spirit in the room light up. In the company of a friend, isn’t that the way it ought to be.

She hears the car in the drive, checks the watch, where was he as this hour, she is going to check for the signs, a fresh perfume, hairs on his collar, the look in his eye, she braces herself. The door opens, he is wearing a big smile, and has a bunch of flowers in his hand, for you dear love he says, have you been crying he says, with deep concern when he see hers…

When trust is gone, it leaves a tragedy behind.