It Couldn’t Happen to Me….9/11

How often we look at others, our eyes turn down, for a moment or two, as we try to digest what it feels like, or how lucky we feel, it wont happen to me, they don’t seem too well, how could they cope with it, their loss our escape, lucky us, how long do we read the news from afar, the casualty list, the numbers, do we think of families or is it our luck we are sizing up, lucky me. How lives can change with dramatic affect, for all time. Solomon recalled the morning news, all those years before, the seeming animated picture, this could not be real, not live on TV, it has to be a computer generation, then the reality a minute later, that’s real people, that was real jet fuel, that is real life and it’s before the eyes of the world. How one day can alter so much. History teaches us, anything can happen, and old scripture reminds us, there is another life.

Solomon listened to the news, the anniversary, the where were you moment as it were, and the decisions made afterwards, to start a war, and the results thereafter, when the call for a great peace was lost in the big talk, we’ll get even, regardless of the cost, the soldiers return home years later, shell shocked, the desire for guns increasing daily, the nationalistic calls, revenge and security, we have the power. The Roman empire wanted to dominate the world through force, or fear, God had other plans, the memorials still exist, to remind us, war does not work, it only leads to worse.

Mothers, fathers brothers sisters, when did revenge do it for you, or what did revenge do for you; usualy caused more need for guns, and the mentality that using force brings, hatred usually, amen. Jesus pleaded forgiveness, knew how our thoughts are formed, the baggage that destroys, those bitter memorires that you save up, for that great moment, same as the viagra hidden in the shaving bag, for use when you could not do it yourself, but there in the bag, in order to save your pride. Well, in a world thar that wants immediate satisfaction, there are no buffer zones, or patience. Amen

Advertisements

Two Polar Bears

Are you sure this is a good place to set up a stall, the other bear nods, he is wearing sun glasses, does not want to be recognized, it’s a desperate time, and finding a new home is not easy. The stall they set up is outside the big rock concert, it is a petition gathering enterprise, and there is the hope also of meeting some of the famous campaigners, the bears have definite ideas, and they are front line spectators of the ice debacle. They are even offering free ice lollies for anyone who signs up. A child asks, are those fur coats real, the older bear smiles, Fur, who uses real fur these days, everything is fake these days. It was a bold decision, coming all the way from the Arctic, well, they got caught on an ice berg, and ended up in San Francisco. The signs were all friendly too, they even formed a committee to save them, those San Francisco Nationals.

Fox’s leave the forests, joining more and more in the cities, lot of waste food there. The two polar bears do the happy bear dance, one foot to other and back, sign up sign up. Are they really fur coats another child asks. The signing is going well. A dozen rare parrots fly in formation, they are escaping the Amazon fires, they are on the California coast, flying north, they want to cool down. One of them Spots the two polar bears at the stand, shouts out to the others, I think we have reached Alaska he says. Well, where do you expect to find Polar Bears these days?.

Don’t Look Now

He shakes his wrist, it’s a habit, the watch he wears is expensive, few can afford them, and it dazzles the heads of those who notice, it’s got him places, that flashy watch. In the exclusive bazaars of the east, the watch is not so handy now, it attracts the stares of those willing to sacrifice their life for it. He doesn’t stride so proud, feels rather uncomfortable, rich and white, displaying his wealth, gee, never knew there were so many needy people about, doesn’t feel like Manhattan on a Saturday night, more like the ghetto you want to forget. Not that he cares, it’s all a disguise. Don’t stare over there Tracey, she is looking at a man with a stump for a hand, Don’t look Tracey he says, she can’t help herself, she goes over to him, as if drawn by the missing hand. His eyes are pleading, she drops a few noisy coins into the tin cup, his eyes lighten up. Wristwatch Ray is not impressed with her. She is a new girl friend, another one, the field trip to the sanctuary, he wants to prove his credentials, that way he will gain control over her; the trip to the bazaar, a fancy she had, not his thinking at all, he prefers confined thinking

. How people are so easily impressed, don’t look now!.

Spirit Raising

The yeast in the mixture, the smile on your face, could it be that easy you ask. The glance across the office, that says it’s okay, we got over it, you can approach me and ask, the fear that is dismissed with eye contact, what’s the worry, the sincere expression that cannot be faked, when it’s real its’ real. the role of every life, Spirit raising, assumes that there is somebody more important that yourself in the room. The child comes home, the shoulders are shrunk, the child is worried, the mother knows immediately, what’s wrong she says, the child is not afraid, he slowly tells the story, in a minute he is feeling all right.

Imagine, Solomon sighed, it was a hard emotion, the small friend who can’t explain it, the fear that his phone hides, the worries of the bigger ones, the fear that is trapped and can’t get out. Solomon was sending the reminder to himself, those who were left behind while those who built themselves kingdoms thought it was all right. the toe rag mentality was a mind set of those of arrogant disposition, he had encountered them regularly, so he warned them about the Spirit, well, it was possibly the best news possible since the days of old, God is real, I have seen the Spirit, watch this space, amen.

Solomon smiled, it was passing on the Spirit, it was just an every day thing, no idols, amen.

Secret Worlds According to Victor Hugo

The history of nations, the oppression of the weak and vulnerable, the call for a fairer system, while the word of God failed, as preachers joined forces with those who lorded it over the lower classes, how the works of Jesus were forgotten, while clever men wrote books explaining it all, in accordance to what they thought, their words, only pebbles in the wall of understanding, their pride overcomes them, same way a starlet these modern days soaks up the accolades. Solomon was always a fan of the french nation, no one forgets the revolution, and those that came after those mad days, don’t have to be told, you don’t lord it over people, you have to love them all. Victor was a rare exception, he says it well, mixes history with a story of redemption.

Solomon loved the streets of Paris, as a tourist it wasn’t a struggle to survive, he had time to wonder, the long lunch, the dress, the bread, and the wine, the pride of the wine maker, the classifications, how they clap at the end of the movie, okay, so they don’t have big houses, four rooms could be their mansion, entertaining and meeting others was the life, the early morning argument in the cafe, men in their work overalls discussing politics before they went out to sweep the streets, their Pride in the Nation, blessed they believe by God.

So in order to overcome the powers of the authority, you have secret languages and signs, words, obfuscation as some would say, the hidden truth that Greed can destroy, you have a soul, and when mixed with good love, there is great power. Victor and his friends tried to remind us of this, I guess they still are. There is a God they all say, amen.

The Bird Stopped Singing

Silence in the street, the familiar hum is gone, the beat that used to fill your head, the side to side rhythm, the bird is silent, but his memory lives on.  How we take it for granted, the sound of music, birds and their tweets, the friendly smile that used to lend you a cigarette, and those conversations that went anywhere but always had meaning. There is no economic value in a bird song, there is no money in music on the street, well, you can press the button and have it automatically, why would live music matter. Solomon heard of the passing on of a good soul and friend of his, a member of the James gang, an outlaw type.  Mornings spent listening for a half hour, the requests he played, Neil Young and more, thanks he says, I’m sure your entertaining elsewhere now.

Good leaders, how the business minded only value money and nothing more, amen. There had to be a loading given to wisdom in the days ahead, the danger to the environment, the abuse of communities, the madness of celebrity culture, there are artists who inspire. Solomon reflected on the many times he heard the banjo play as he rounded the corner, and the smile it would put you his face, and the few requests he could make. It wasn’t economic the activity, but it was wisdom to support it. He had in times past, and now he could as God Most High, and expect to get a hearing, even when he wasn’t right. You never stop listening to music, thanks John.

Amo Rules The….. A.R.T World

The old geezer in the corner, chortles, he is having a good laugh, this is real. A visitor is scheduled to see him, always brings some bootleg, well, a sniff of real grass, the stuff that opens the senses, allows you to smell, better than snuff, sweeter too, probably great for all sorts of nasal blockages, medical world of old not a fan of it, can’t replicate that unique smell, like breathing in sweetened air, only better, purely natural.

The old folks home, warm in winter, a safe haven, staff extraordinarily kind. Amo feels so good, he feels sometimes like he rules the world. Well we all smell at times, who doesn’t, as for all that chemical stuff they use to stifle those smells, it’s as if they are trying to vaporize the entire planet, a selection of them in every home, wind safe, no air movement at all, does anyone get it, they are living in their own incubators. As for Amo, he doesn’t give a fart, lets off quite a few, but that’s natural considering his age, ask Jack, (nicholson) he will tell you all about them. As for Amo, just a whiff of sweet marijuana and he’s running through a meadow again, not that he smokes or anything, that’s what the young ones do, amen.

Solomon sighed, he recalls his old friend, how his Spirit was awoken by that sweet aroma, that science can’t imitate, every time he got a scent of it. Reminded him of that Movie, Al all peace Pacino, scent of the blueberry, what a story that was, or was it strawberry, they smell great too, legal cause you can eat them I suppose, amen.