My Eyes

Damn advertising Guru, could sell a g-string to your ninety year old aunt, and tell her it was comfortable, get you to forget yourself for a while, the blurb, you look great in that, even if you could not see, darn advertising guru, as for those psycho dudes, the head experts, is there a ship I could borrow, the mid Atlantic would be a good place to bring them for a Holiday, moor them off shore with their off shore accounts, a few strong anchors, away from everyone where they can’t do anymore harm. Blast sighed Solomon, he listened to the news, the crocodile tears, the affect of pornography on happiness, relationships, and children of course, the darn advertising Guru, what medication was he on, vitamin “M” of course like so many. Too darn busy getting their thrills to wonder about the affect it was having on others. Solomon encountered the “Spirit” the early apostles enjoyed, and when it is real, you don’t have to excuse your thoughts. So many eyes squinting over their small screens, wondering, is this love what we are seeing, cause they seen to be doing nothing else.

My eyes cried God, what are they doing to the children of the world. Solomon recalled the words of Jesus, God is inside you, the Spirit, it’s not over there, it’s inside you. Why pollute the eyes of God you wonder, unless you intended in murdering the Spirit within. Holidays are occasions, not every day experiences. One of those moments, he saw the expression on the faces, he prayed, there was a sense of disappointment. He listened to the words, the bread and the fish, the division of food, the Spread of the Spirit, well being, it was a lesson, simple as that, you share and it gets better for everyone, Amen.

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Village Meltdown

You wont believe it, druggies on every corner, I was propositioned by a young woman, beautiful, she is injecting herself, you probably know her from school, the towns people are afraid, it’s madness over there, even the cops are afraid to go near the place. Solomon looked at the expression on the face, the one doing the talking, he was the listener. Foils on every alley, needles too, he listened to the voice, it was the run up to the election, and the speakers party was the strong arm of hope, Solomon listened on. How the masters of misery try to create the worst thoughts, frightening the sheep, a tried and trusted method of getting your attention, so listen..

You have to listen in the context of the times, same way politicians and poll shakers do a test before they announce the real news, they gauge your reaction. Everyone from Islam is dangerous, every Mexican is a rapist, every Irish man is a drunk, every white man a saint. The boy cried wolf sighed Solomon, when the danger is real no one will believe him. It was a mute point, there were many signs in the Sky, results, polls, national intrigues, unstable leaders, trumpet calls, as Ezra said in the book he wrote 2,7000 years before, before the coming of the new world. Solomon hoped those who were trying to divide opinion had been reading the signs, it applied to them as well, the village meltdown.

Space Wars

Movie titles, credit lists, the long list of names that took part in the production, it wasn’t a one man game, collective, the world, same as all those species fighting to hang on, each bit playing a part in the life of another, some might call it space wars. Solomon sighed, the world was addicted to the image driven world, where outside beauty mattered over everything else, which of course can be easily manipulated, and has. Jesus reminds us, it’s your heart where all your beauty is stored, and so we have idols who try to grab our attention, and those you try to open our hearts, in the hope that we can see, it’s a real space war. Solomon sighed, it’s not hard to work out what matters when your old and wrinkly and lying on the bed, your hair is grey, perhaps falling out, your teeth no longer bleach, and your ability to do the basic toiletries, to say the least, a bit inhibited. Boy, don’t you wish your heart was full of good deeds to reflect on, rather than the state of your decaying body, what the difference a smile makes, amen. Can you imagine the God of Jesus residing inside a rubbish dump of a life, with a big smile on His Face.

Crisis In Numbers

Not enough votes to unite us, and too many votes that divide us. Numbers, the way we weigh things up, you don’t have enough numbers, you can’t get that, we wont get elected, you can’t afford that, numbers, little wonder there is a book of numbers in the ancient scriptures. The more you have in numbers, the safer you appear. The so called wisdom, and in our rush to get the numbers right, we ignored the other numbers, that apply to the health of the planet.

Crisis in numbers, not enough men and women to fill the roles and preach. Church in crisis, the numbers, how can it last. Crisis in Spirit, how do you increase it, the power to change the entire.

Children will shame you, and if you are intending getting into the higher love, a child you must be, a young person, not necessarily, it’s an appreciation you are supposed to show for the world and it’s creator, The Great God Most High. You are all children of a higher love, none of us are the boss. When the numbers reach the tipping point, the changes begin to take place, and we reach the critical level, so it seems.

Crisis in numbers, so much of the world already extinct, a number worth worrying about.

Harry the Potter

Amo, what does He mean when he uses words such as potter, and stuff, it’s rather confusing, the request of a small child. Amo drifts back to his school days, he is having a recall while lying in bed in his care home. The thoughts on his mind when he faces the divine one, it’s like preparing for an exam, and Amo has high expectations.. A teacher all his life. He tries to remember the answer he gave that day. The child had one of the harry potter books in his hands, was there a connection he could make.

Amo thinks, don’t pretend if you don’t know the answer, and if it’s an educated guess admit it. Amo is tired of the so called global experts, and their expert opinions, it hasn’t worked, caused huge global problems, these so called expert opinions. A bit like Brexit and the United Kingdom, a huge bonus for every country but the United Kingdom, so much for expert opinion.

The potter fashions the clay, creates the vessel that holds liquids or foods, enables us to sit down and eat together. Without a vessel to hold water, think how difficult it would be. The Child nods, easy to understand that. So when it goes wrong sighs Amo, what does the potter do, say when it begins to leak. The child nods, that’s easy the little boy says. He makes a new one. Amo’s face widens into a grin, a wise little vessel this one is. Amo continues.

The clay can be refashioned too, when it gets out of shape he says and needs to be adjusted. You mean when it’s been made asks the Child. Amo sighs, God does not make mistakes, he wants to get it right. How about this he says smiling. The times when you know you done wrong and allow someone else to take the blame, how do you feel about it after, The child sighs, tears in it’s eyes, you feel bad, and you try to avoid them, don’t you, he says.

Amo is trying to connect the thinking of the Child to wisdom, there is no one solution. In his mind he recalls the teaching of Jesus, the faults that are passed on when we can’t forgive, and the resentment it causes later, and the harm passed on.  That would be one reason for refashioning the clay, apart from the destruction of the message it was supposed to carry… One way of putting it, enough for one day he sighs, the class is over, he is back in his bed in the care home, but smiles at the memory of long ago, seeds well sown, he’ll pass that test all right.

 

Word Power

It’s amazing sighed Amo, the old gitter is being helped onto the toilet, he can hardly walk, but it doesn’t matter so long as he gets there, least he can sit normally, word power he says, how words can shock us or inspire us, frighten us, warm our hearts, constrict us, start a fire in us, simple words. The ears are always open to words, we are programmed to hear them. so long as we are allowed, that’s why there are those that restrict us, words, we don’t want that said, it will only upset our plans, the big reputation at risk, afraid to hear them, and what others might think, the framing of words, an art form. What do you mean Amo asks the nurse, while helping him clean his ass. Words he sighs, it’s how we understand the world, we can’t do without them, how else can we communicate.

Solomon sighed, the way reputation is guarded, how voices are silenced, words usually. The only reputation worth having was one of the Spirit, the Spirit that enlightens, not the Spirit that darkens, words again, how we use them. The first words in the ancient scriptures, the word became alive, and the world was created, by Great Spirit, the light, word power again.

Those checking their bank accounts ought to do a check on their Spiritual well being, the words they use, the sentiment in the heart, were they merciful, did they try to achieve at any cost, did they undermine love in order to get what they wanted, did they blame others for their own lacking, a few words he sighed would sort it all out, word power again, same as a good prayer, amen.

 

If Spirit is the communication tool that is eternal, wasn’t it time to get practice at it, given all the recent changes…

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.