Victor Hugo

The Parable of les Miserables, that great song story, that voice, the movement of the soul, the dream made real, redemption, what a story, Solomon was reading it, but the wisdom within, how is applies to our times, how it pointed out so much that could be put right, with a little patience, rather than the reactionary world we have created. Donald Trump says this, the press jumps, it’s not that they didn’t hear the words before, its’ just that they feel forced to react, if he said you should go to the bathroom wearing a swimsuit, they’d print that too, it’s mullarkey, they print whatever someone deemed celebrity says, it’s that simple. Victor Hugo, a man blessed with faith in the Power of God’s Spirit, tried to pass on the wisdom, that is still so lacking today, and now the crisis is real, we are slow to react, so much for all those reactionaries, its’ time they allowed small children read real literature of a philosophic nature. Thank’s Victor. And even his central character, Valjean, who was cross with himself, for trying to lead his “charge”, cossete,

into the convent”, without allowing her a taste of life, cheating her, she will only hate me for that she thought.

Solomon sighed, how many had taken a formal vocation in older times to please their Parents and no one else, not even themselves, amen. The troubles down the road later, the river that is now a dribble, he saw the picture of the old seminary, it was a troop of men in the collar, now they are two spots on a green field, choosing rightly, needs time and wisdom as Victor Hugo would say, amen. Pride can be a killer as they say, it certainly drowns the Spirit.

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kings of Doom

I told you, the weary eyed child nods, so it feels. The lure of the drug does not seem all that far out, well, anything is better than this. Big mouth politician shouts the words they all want to hear, reminds them of the threat far off, it will arrive here he says, the nods of the head, there appears to be wisdom in what he says. The voice gets a listenership, followers too, he leads them along his own closed way, nothing is good, but there is an escape. How easy to lead those hurting, the right words at the right time, so easy it seems.

Solomon sighed, they said the same about Jesus, how he was undermining the world of old, as for his promise of eternity, they didn’t understand it, they became prophets of doom, their own.

In the coming world, when God dwells among all, none of the religions would be necessary, and there is no trouble with that. Those addicted to control and the regulations, well, they might find it hard to absorb, but wasn’t that the truth. when you are not ill there is no need for medical assistance, is there?.

Joan of Arc

She passed on, this day in fact, the year 1431, burnt at the stake, she heard the voice of God, was filled with the Spirit, the same power that gives the swallow a lift, fly, the bird flies, and before her, as said all those years ago, by Jesus Christ, you murdered the prophets of God, and then built tombs to them and venerated them afterwards, the words of ancient scripture, come through, while the prophets are a tide that never fails to arrive, washing away the stone of stubborness, planted in the souls of men, who envied power and control. But the tide of Prophets comes and comes again, same as those warriors facing the machine guns with only swords in their hands. Is this the reason we are given examples of huge human loss, as the human tide tries to overcome the demon, amen. Solomon sighed, it is one way of viewing the journey, and the ever lasting eternal gift that is waiting, when the walls are breached and torn down. The souls mount up, the Body of Christ strengthens, layer after layer, until they fill the body of Man, thereby allowing the return of God’s Holy Spirit to earth. Solomon smiled, yeah, we have come to that moment, thank you Joan of Arc, and all those you inspired, amen.

Ironic really, those that tried to control the earth now have to clean up the mess they created, hurry up boys!

The Dream

An institution, large, with it’s own civil service, where Men of Power roam the corridors, giving orders, their way the only way, a form of extremism, there to protect the Church of God, into this, pour a little known South American Spirit, A man of God, chosen from the end of the world, the clean job he is given, impossible in the eyes of so many, the dream. Extremism is not on the to do list, getting rid of it is his main chore. I am surrounded by demons he says, makes it clear from the beginning, Help Me, his words are a call for help. Fear, so damaging, curtails so much thinking, Francis has his problems, made choices at times, some that are hard to support, but admits he is human, is willing and seeking advice.

Solomon had the dream, he woke in the night, there was a darkness that was trying to corrode him, fill him with fear, demonic. He gets up and writes a few words, asks in the Holy Name, the fear disappears. How difficult it is, when those so young suffer such fear that it makes them shrink. No set of words can cure this, only a regaining of trust. actions.

There are many demons hiding in Holy Places, gaining refuge unknown to those around them. Solomon was sending up the prayer; reveal what is hidden, and expose the extremists everywhere, there is a great healing required, amen.

Use music to help you pray..

The Great Affair

What do you mean, he is having an affair, they look at each other, then they look at her, their stare is accusing, you mean you could not hold him, as if it’s her fault he is off with another. She feels their accusing stares, they are supposed to be supporting me, their her original family after all. She raises her eyes, he was so charming, and didn’t he help them all financially, bought their loyalty, what had he said to them behind her back. Who can resist him, his reputation is so high, even the Pope likes him, and did he know how to use it, reputation.

She has mixed feelings, families are supposed to support each other, why are they supporting him, has he poisoned them too, why me. She gave him children, set aside her ambitions, she thought it was a life long commitment, then she sighs, she was attracted to his sneaky ways, how clever she thought as he regaled her with the office politics, she thought he was sharing with her, no secrets she thought, what a blessing to have.

He leaves her, not that he tells her, emotionally he is gone, has a long term plan, had all along, the children would get older, he’d become more interesting, other friends, well, we all have to grow up, snide remarks, getting fat, she thought he wanted her to loose weight, well, try having children and remaining in the same figure, better chance asking Houdini how he did it. In despair she leaves the meeting, is alone in her car, her thoughts are all messed, she is even thinking the inevitable, maybe that was his plan all along.

He will sympathize with her family, they will all say a few words, and will make up, grief does that, unites, ask any terrorist or extremist group, they all use the emotions. A car passes her by, driving too fast she says, she slows, gathers her thoughts. You’ll get yourself killed she says to herself. Back in her self, she notices the signs, there are bill boards, insurance, money advice, then in big bold letters, Need Help, she see’s a smiling Jesus, eyes wide open, inviting her, she recalls when she was a child, how the family got together and prayed, happier times, her father being a man of Great Spirit. He will never let you down he used to say, her father that is.

The meeting is an invitation, she decides to attend, and in that moment, her heart begins to change, she regains control of her senses, a voice tells her, it’s going to be okay. The Greatest affair in her begins, and the choice is one she can never regret, old friends are best, amen.

Solomon sighed, pity those who use the reputation of God to get ahead and don’t live up to it. The world was changing fast, and the signs were on bill boards all across the sky, an addict could not ignore them, amen.

Old Friends, A Living Prayer

Daisy D gone to the world above, your kindness towards others inspired so many, Old Amo, your wisdom is still is use, that Spirit is alive too, Gerry W, you were so kind and patient, they all still miss you, enjoyed the wine and the banter, never a cross word, calm in a storm, there are few like you, Miss Philomena, you were the most active of angels, like your Father before you, and to all the others, so many great souls have passed to the world above, a harvest of goodness followed them. Being in the zone, Solomon was calling on the Great Spirit, the Father of Heaven and Earth, remember those who fell in your service, the Spirit you filled them with, is badly needed again on earth, the voices are calling out, Amen.

Solomon sighed, his prayers got heard, so why not ask, put in the request, you will get a fair old hearing. He asked for help, did what many considered impossible, if only he sighed, they had seen the Invisible. Don’t put a limit on your heart, use it. What good is all the tomorrows, when today is the only day that matters.

He sighed, his little friend, and all the children under threat, were getting help from the only source the demon feared, and that was music to his ears.

Refugee

Hurry, pack your things, she rushes around the room, there is a window of opportunity, the boat leaves in half an hour, quick Ahmad, what about my football, I will buy you a new one, hurry, she is desperate to get out of the place, a  chance in a lifetime, hopefully, her sister is after saving her, a friend in Paris is after getting her a seat with one of the traffickers, the boat leaves Tripoli in half an hour. Passports, in the trunk, she digs around, there is so much she will have to leave behind, Ahmad looks as his mother, she is in a panic, is there something wrong, his face is covered in a frown, and despair, where are we going, she has him by the hand, you didn’t look the door, she pulls him along, what about my friends, you will have new ones, hurry, it’s a ten minute walk to the beach, be there at nine they won’t wait, her sister knows the people in Paris, this is not a scheduled flight from New York or London, no family holiday, this is the exodus, no time for ceremony or bread making, there is no time, hurry Ahmad, she pulls him along.

the Harbour comes into view, her breathing eases, she pauses, looks around, her walk slower, and you will have a game boy too, his little eyes light up, really, her smile widens, yes, so be good. He dreams the next few steps, he will have his own team, up to now he has to use his friends, I am going to become a man. There is a group on the boarded quay, there is the hum of the engines, a voice shouts from somewhere, hurry up, we have to leave now.

I’m alma De salma, the boarding clerk checks the register, last minute he says, gives her a smile, you have friends, she smiles. The remaining passengers are loaded, an open boat, forty foot, the waters are calm, they will transfer to a bigger boat when out to sea. The engines throb, the boat moves. Ahmad, his first time on a boat, he holds her hands tight. There is silence aboard, they are all taking a great risk, caught, they face detention even worse, to do nothing at all, a life of slavery and death.  Open her up, there is a roar of the engines, the boat is moving fast, the breeze is catching, everyone silent, refugees, hoping for a better life.

The wall has to be built, how else can we keep them out, the head of the company, a white supremacist raises his glass, a toast he says, to the President, long may he live. The dream of authority over all of the earth is getting closer with each waking hour, for the great bread maker. Billions are at stake, the money that can change nations, this is the risk of failure, and the President agrees, we can’t continue with this stream of refugees, they have turned parts of the states into unknown zones, some don’t even speak English, what type of America is this.

The boat is three miles out, there is a light, it is getting brighter, the sister ship is waiting. There is a sigh, the man checking the register, gives out instructions, he tells them what is to happen, does not want them to do anything sudden, doesn’t want them to rock the boat. he pats Ah

mad on the head as he passes, the boy smiles, feels like a pirate in a johnny depp movie. Because we believe he sighs, talking to himself, and they call us traffickers and those who trade in misery, the ivory towers, and those who live in them, what do they know, all they ever do is make bread….