Price of Wisdom

The queen of Sheba, meets Solomon, she recognizes wisdom when she hears it, can see how others misused it, is horrified, what she cries, are they all demons she wondered, those she thought she could trust, playing with the truth, using her to gain riches. Solomon sighed, it’s the year 2020, over three thousand years since the original words were written. The chaos and destruction she was told about, it had to happen she was told, until she listened to the words of wisdom; imagine what she thought of those around her.

There is a general panic, many made genetics becomes a monster in the making; progress she sighed. She recalls the efforts of Darwin to twist the reality of creation, the possibility of a perfect human race, that led to the attempt to wipe out the Jewish people. progress, more like pride she sighed, as men tried to out do each other. What about the 25 trillion stored off shore; what use was it now, what good would it do them. Then Solomon told her; God tests his people, and when put to the test, they stand firm, and overcome. She smiles; the demon and his army of angels must be feeling closer to extinction tonight. Amen, Solomon prayed yes they are.

Big Reputation

What others think of me, that’s all that matters, God Most High listens, to the inner ramblings of the mind, with the assistance of wisdom, who can read everybody. Bling, flesh, a Brazilian,  nice lines, an inner drive, an energy that needs to get out, high octane. Bob Dylan cringes, why can’t I write those words, another screams, wish I could have stole them, words.

The arena is empty, the tour is on hold, the cocaine has to be paid for, no surprise, the big dealers are inn trouble, the market has dried up, and those further up the chain, doing a clean up, no customers to supply, courtesy of the Virus, how Ironic, what is invisible, has such a weighty influence, how strange is that, and the churches closing their doors, what are they doing, to the reputation of God, well, what is faith, amen.

The Sheep panic…

The great threat arrives, the paid men run, the shepherd soon realized, where was their trust, the parables of Jesus, replayed in real life, the ship is at sea, the winds are strong, where is your faith He Asked, didn’t you see the great wonders, how taxing it must have been, to have to remind them again and again, the Spirit of God is inside me, and it’s inside you too, you just have to create the space for it to thrive, a healthy mind, not one filled with jealousy and spite, that’s the demons daily diet, amen. You can’t serve God and Money, one will get the better of you, listen if you have ears.

Solomon read a story, the history of genetics, and the threat of virus’s, and how easy it is to manipulate such things, so simple it doesn’t even need a degree. The timing of the read, the advent of the corona virus, the vicious words used to instill fear in everyone. Don’t give up your faith, God is real, and his mercy is great, don’t panic ever, amen.

Reading from the holy books; Ezra in particular, there is so much in it that connects to these times, so Solomon read it aloud, to those listening in secret, in case they forget, there is God and there are words, that add up. As Jesus said later, it’s never too late to return to God, amen.

I’m a neighbor too

They,

hurry past the house, they know who lives there, the old lady is weird, they hurry their steps as they pass by. Inside their home, they bolt the doors, safe in doors, free from the world, the only thoughts, those they share with each other. The news, the story of a sickness, she thinks more anticeptic, he plans to wash more, they are a careful couple. Around the world, mortality is threatened, news of infection, not far from the attitude of those, who having wealth, are not into mixing with their poorer friends; they will only ask for help, don’t you know what they want. Neighbors.

Solomon sighed, a world threatened is a chance to develop new ways, or the return to old styles of caring. He recalled the truly great philanthropists, from the early 1900’s, the landmarks they left behind, the culture they encouraged, the gifts they gave to all, not selecting among the friends, a long time ago. maybe the new crisis, would encourage a new world outlook. Time was needed to size up the dirt that needed cleaning; did they really want their children to grow up stressed; as if they could do nothing.

Solomon recalled the night of the Spirit, the power of words that came with it; no power on earth could come close to it, amen. Neighbors, where were the borders, since we could reach out to every part of the world with our thoughts, thanks to the web.

The Residue

Leftovers on the table, he eyes the last two roast potatoes, if they are all ignoring it, that means none of them wants it, they taste great, he scans the plates on either side, all he can see is the conversations going on, the lick of gravy on the side of the mouth, clean it will you, it’s sticking out, across the table, a fork in the air, moving left and right, almost with the skill of an orchestral director, still he has his eyes on the prize, those last two golden crisp potatoes. Will I be brave and reach out.

What are you waiting for William she says, catching his eye, he dips his head, a smile on his face, he slowly reaches in, got you he thinks, he has one of the potatoes on the big spoon, he is moving it carefully to his docking station, his plate. No one said a thing, will he be brave enough to take the other, go for it he tells himself. Eight years old, it’s awhile before you learn about the etiquette of eating in a group. She gives him a re assuring nod, the second potato is on the spoon. You are not eating both of them another diner calls out, as he drops it onto the messiest part of the plate, where old flecks of gravy and a white sauce have mixed into a brown mulch, he does it deliberately, no one will ask for the potato back now, too late, all that residue.

Solomon sighed, we learn hopefully, we lean on the past, we see how nationalism becomes a movement of hatred, the wars across the world, home led, the same causes, repeated again and again, too much power in the same closet, time to get angry, time to get rich, we will sort them boy. The world had enough of all that argument, it was well past it’s sell by date, same as those religions, who intentionally miss quoted the old words, in order to divide opinion, and what was their residue; the incitement of hatred.

Surely they believe in God he hoped, and as such, put their efforts into rising spirits, rather than renovating old organisations.

Flying Spirit

Te Amo, she turns her head, she hasn’t heard that in awhile, she’s a migrant worker, and an illegal, she is waitressing,  the cook is flirting with her again, she smiles. Meanwhile there are three tables that need to be cleared and three other girls like her, vulnerable, waiting to take her job, no slip ups. She passes a table, two men in suits, are they immigration, she pretends not to look, we ordered two coffee’s one says. She nods, rushes to the table, her eye on the two men, are they there to spy on her. Being an illegal is hard work, she has moved every six months, trying to keep ahead of the posse. She possess’s a secret, one she can’t explain, not in the normal meaning of the word; she carries the Holy Spirit inside her. Remain calm, she repeats this to herself daily, evening, before sleep, calm, you live inside me she explains. It’s as if she carries a special child inside her.

Our coffee, she passes the table, makes a nod, coming she says. It’s lunchtime, the busy period, but she doesn’t mind, there are other young girls like her, who are not that lucky. One of them dances the tables, and smiles at leering men all day, it’s a job, provides shelter, things can get worse.

She fills the cups, makes for the two men, sorry she says, setting  down the two cups. His jacket slides to the side, as if he is reaching for something, she spots the handle of a gun, law enforcement he says, sorry if I upset you, she smiles nervously. He nods. He wears a brown belt, he fingers the clasp, a sign, they are on my side, she sighs…..

Technogenics

Technogenics, well how else do you describe it. James hadn’t heard the word, it wasn’t far from eugenics, but with a technical twist. The modern world was good AT coming up with new words to explain things; there was texteese of course, the new form of short hand, twittereese, short version twitter, and there were the different ways your interests were fished; was that the right term, fishing, or was it a word used to describe theft online, hard to say, in a nutshell the more we know about you the better we can help you, or if your a robber, the more we know about you the easier it is to rob you, perspective of the thief, and in a world where, technology allows for the easy theft of resources from other human beings, Solomon thought that a NEW TERM be devised, to explain this new phenomenon; dare we say, Technogenics.

If you lose your instincts to think, you stop thinking, if a machine does all those all your thinking for you, you lose you ability to think; it’s all connected. The doomy gloomies would blame the techy companies; but wasn’t it just a case of pure laziness on the part

of the consumer, who wanted a simpler life and more time for other things?.

Seeking Perfection

She has shoes with holes, it’s raining, the toes squelch, she can hear the noise, she walks even slower, she is embarrassed, doesn’t want her friends to know. A dry table, a place to sit, a cup of tea or coffee, a few minutes to sip,

to rest, to feel normal, is like seeking perfection. Her home is now a dorm, her needs are met, you could call her lucky, her doctor tells her she is all right. A little mental instability, it spiraled, she lost control in a rage, picked up a bottle, lost her home, an apartment, when they sent her to jail. Lucky girl, it was one of those modern facilities; a case of a little business, when the Government farmed out the prison service, how you farm out care, is one of those mysteries, in a world seeking perfection. $$$$

Solomon read the old story tellers lament; the lack of literacy, and the inherent problems that it causes, and how its’ revealed in the prison population. No one cares said the old sage, it’s been like this for ages and gets worse as time lengthens. So many worry about the perfect smile, are the teeth straight, how can I get my lips to pout, do you think it would be better with highlights, the hair, do I really need a second face lift; choices.

It’s how you spend your time; seeking perfection, its’ the eye of the worrier, amen.

A Child is Born to the world….

I could be watching TV. Well TV is what he heard these last six weeks. A break from the rattle tattle of the office printer he was used to night and day. too warm to move, cosy and wrapped, fed continuously, room was getting tighter, Pushy was getting anxious. Due to make his first official appearance onto the world stage, he’d been holding off this last week, on account of the weather forecast. Cold and icy for the next three weeks announced the weather forecaster a week earlier, just as pushy was ready to make his big entrance. Pushy decided to remain a tummy baby, yet to be born, but like all great actors, waited for the right moment to enter the fray. She’s eating burgers again, washed down with orange juice, pushy liked orange juice, burped inside her tummy, forcing him to shake a leg.

I can feel him moving” smiled Mary. Other friends laughed loudly. Pushy wiggled around trying to get his ear into position. What are they saying, I’m not even born yet and they are making plans for me. Did they ever hear about free will.

Like sliding about, be a baby inside a tummy. Pushy was rolling around in his mother’s tummy. She was on her feet again. She’s eating again, what this time wondered pushy. Smelled okay, he wondered if it was a Chinese, hopefully not. Beef, fresh Irish beef, yummy smiled pushy who was being fed through his mother. The rich smell of Tipperary beef, probably the best beef on the planet. Well, when you have the freshest water in Europe to cook with, to grow with, the outcome is usually wholesome, and good for pushy who could only think of himself.

Do they all speak with that accent wondered pushy, the theme tune to a familiar soap opera waking him up after a short nap. They didn’t speak like mammy figured pushy trying to work out the plot line, moving himself around, trying to get his best ear to the action. The doorbell rang. Shit sighed pushy, he’d never know if they had the affair. New shit tomorrow.

any news yet” asked Jennifer, a friend of mammy’s.

if it doesn’t move soon I don’t know what I’ll do” replied mammy, back on the couch.

This is really bugging me, they are pushing me too far. I’ll surprise them.

More food, spicy shit, this is unbelievable fumed pushy trying to move around his tummy room. Makes you fart, burst even. Dirty tricks department, they are trying to move me. Wait till I get out of here, just you wait. She stopped eating, god that was close. The door closed. It was time for bed. The bump the bump, four more bumps and we’d be on the bed. He liked the way mammy massaged him while they were in bed lying down. He could swim up and down across and for as long as he wanted, unimpeded too. she’s getting fast sighed pushy, not realising that is was he who was growing fastest. I used to be able to stretch, not so much now.

Soft music put him in a trance. She played him frank Sinatra in bed. Good taste, a real smoocher, our frank Nuts, I don’t believe it, not even normal nuts, spicy nuts. She’s trying to do my head in sighed pushy kicking out in disgust. Mary smiled, patted her tummy. Who loves you she said. Pushy listened with rage, how could she eat spicy so late at night. Down there, he often wondered what was down there, never went down there, felt safer up here. He could rest up here, down there and he’d nothing to hold onto. His foot slipped all of a sudden, got caught on a ledge. Pushy held on for dear life. Twisted around, head first, if I go down there I’ll never come back, I’ll lose my comfort zone. Where’s the water gone. Mammy was on her feet. I hear her on the fone. I’m stuck, I’m stuck. Jennifer is at the door. Mammy mammy, it’s an earthquake shouts pushy, does anyone ever listen. What am I supposed to do. Stuck in the black hole, I’m dead I’m dead, ah, ah, I see light, light, god I’m alive, I’m alive, ah mammy, mammy screams pushy, tears in his eyes, tears in her eyes as well.

Lights everywhere, the place smells horrible, voices I never heard all around me, I’m not putting up with this. Pushy cleared his throat and screamed for all his worth. A minute later he was lying with mammy. She’s my mother smiled pushy…. 

Protected Girl

It’s dangerous outside, there are those you have to fear, we are going to keep you close to us, so will have nothing to fear. But I want to become a mountain climber she says; No NO, her parents say, listen to your father. Another dream dies, she is afraid or made afraid, no matter what direction she looks. At the end of her days, she is like her Parents, afraid of everything, the protected girl.

Solomon sighed; there were those who were worldly wise, but not wise in the real meaning of the world; their children were reared in a world which was not the world at all, more a cage. Everything was laid on, the help, special teachers, even friends like herself; they never came into contact with real people. How can you empathize, when your heart is in a splint all the time.

Dictatorships are easy to achieve.

Solomon sighed, a friend, who was learning the road, who started in the slow lane, had her confidence stolen from her. He recalled the laughter, and the fun, he recalled the times he had the parties when everyone was gone, and the life that came into the old house, and how the Spirit is revived, amen. Lucky person, don’t give up, life is today, and it’s full of surprises waiting for you, amen.