My Fault

It was not the reaction, it was the ardent hate, it wasn’t Nazi Germany, it was twenty first century first world thinking, an elite with their hands on power, assuming they were going to be as successful as those they replaced. Modern world power, we control the mind, we fill the media, we use others, the way a mob boss does, you don’t rise to the top unless your dirty, examples of it written all over the place, was it my fault she said. The oceans are clean, the off shore theft continues, water supplies are getting cleaner, there is more money in existence than ever before, the machines that print it, the legal schemes that create it, how can it survive, when it ignores wisdom. My fault.

Solomon had the proof of divine interventions, had encountered the Holy Spirit. Revelation was filling the airwaves, new truths coming out everyday, as if preparing the people for change, my fault.

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Don’t Blame Donald

The easy target, the big smile, the wealth, the power, the outspoken, the trouble with North Korea, the sexualization of the world, the permanence of God, where do we stand. We do not agree with what our parents tell us, we learn from experience, but one thing you can’t ignore, the lump under the carpet became a mountain, and now we have to deal with all of it. Some call it unfortunate, some call it a disgrace, tell that to the fish that swims in the dirty ocean, things have to change, don’t blame Donald, listen instead. 24 trillion off shore, banks using software to steal legally, one day is has to end, amen.

The lamb

 

he shares easily and she knows it, he’s the lamb on the table, he is the meal at the end of the day, whoever provides the resources wins all the accolades, the reaction to the doner as temporary as an umbrella on a rainy day, once the rain is over there will be no use for it, once the money is gone the same reaction will be disappointing again

, the lamb never knows until they have him, and then he is gone. Life is like that sighed Solomon, impatience then assistance then deliverance from what there was, depends where you lie at the moment, are you a farmer or are you just another ram. The expression was a surprise, it wasn’t something unexpected, but the mask fell from the face, he could see clearly behind it, this was not a place for lambs, neither was the city for the new arrival or the refugee.

society was layers of folks, each trying to get to the next level, once the resources were secure, they were no different to those they complained about, it was something human and it was not very humanizing, amen. The face of the deceiver, could be a lamb one moment a demon the next, did everyone change as soon as the situation improved, the only thought more of the new lets forget about where we came from, was that it, amen.

One Smile

her eyes sagged a little, the chirpy smile was missing, it had been there a long while, he noticed the first day he entered, there was great spirit in her eye, he knew that he was in loves great care, and so he felt good every time he visited there, she has the eyes of a mother the heart of a lover, lucky woman he sighed, to be a friend of hers, awesome he sighed.

Solomon smiled, there were those he met who brought out the sunshine inside, in real time, how was that for awesome, and good at the coffee too.

Question: When George Harrison was singing, “My Sweet Lord,” who was he singing to?

Answer: No one Yesterday, I wrote about the Hindu god, Ganesha, being worshiped in a Roman Catholic church. See here. Really strange stuff. That got me to thinking a bit more about Hinduism. Readers of this blog know I was a big fan of The Byrds rock and roll band way back in the day. […]

via Question: When George Harrison was singing, “My Sweet Lord,” who was he singing to? — excatholic4christ

Quote from George

” With our love, we could save the world.”

via George Harrison says: — The Müscleheaded Blog

Gandhi

happy birthday Mr Gandhi, the guest is after arriving, and he has a present for the great man, a bowl of peace, just what i was seeking said the octogenarian, well, he is a little older but his spirit is still young, and he has been restless in the pursuit of a peaceful world, his guest, smiles. What do you want to ask me says the old man, who suddenly stops and apologizes for not offering his guest some tea on the veranda. He has traveled a long distance, to seek the wisdom of the peace activist. There is great concern in the world, so many areas of conflict, and the leaders in situ seem out of touch, the wise oracle is badly needed.

No sugar, i’m sweet enough says his guest. There is a tray of biscuits on the table, Mr Gandhi reaches for one and dips one into his tea, a habit i picked up from the english,  he smiles, as he dips it a second time, oops, he lets the biscuit linger and it all falls in. Going to the same place anyway he smiles patting his tummy.

Peace Mr Gandhi, how did you manage it. Mr Gandhi has a childlike smile, his face is radiant, how i got into this place you mean, waving his hands at the surrounds, a paradise of calm and beauty, bliss. His guest nods, no, it wasn’t that peace he was interested in, but how the world was going to mend itself, the threat of wars a daily event, tragedies a regular news item. How do we mend the situation Mr Gandhi, his guest repeats. Mr Gandhi is on his fourth biscuit, and successfully dunks it. Patience he sighs, patience he sighs, not meaning to be overheard. His guest writes in a notebook, patience first. And don’t over react, it achieves nothing adds Mr Gandhi, usually makes things worse, his guest writes more. Patience, don’t over react, his guest is trying to be patient, but Mr Gandhi has his eyes on the biscuits, there is only one left. Should he share it or eat it, and sharing Mr Gandhi says, it makes people thankful, his guest writes sharing into his notebook. The biscuits are gone, Mr Gandhi finally looks up, he smiles at his guest and says,

“so why did you come to visit me then, did you bring any cookies with you then?”

I was seeking wisdom says the guest, oh wisdom, why didn’t you ask me that at the beginning, answers Mr Gandhi, it’s very simple. Once you use the wisdom you have, you get second then third helpings of it, provided you make use of it, it’s the law of the talents. Mr Gandhi sighs, his face droops.

Anything wrong Sir asks the guest?. No biscuits left.