Where do their ideas come from?

His fingers are tight on the controls, he’s fidgeting with his fingers, it’s getting intense, the bad guy has been spotted on screen, he twists the hand held device, misses the object, his character dies, he loses, begins to cry, tosses the gadget across the room, gives his granny who is minding him an awful fright, where do the ideas come from. She waits till he goes to the bathroom, examines the box, over eighteens only, violent scenes, unsuitable for children under the age, he re enters the room, is a little calmer. She wants to raise the idea with his mother, but is afraid to open her mouth, they might send her away, well, that’s what they do these days when the elderly interfere, well, she’s getting doddery they say.

The twist before the mirror, she pouts, is my ass big in that, her friend just laughs, they are both under ten, but they are getting in on the act, their mothers call it confidence, it’s what the experts say, a good impression of one self is so important, what do the hungry children think of that, impressions. The response from mother, their confidence they say, we can’t do anything to undermine it. It’s the repeat dose, so repeated, everyone has the exact opinion, leaving no doubts, giving comfort to all and sundry, at least your getting that bit right, while they reach for their tranquilizing medication, only three left, must get a prescription for the weekend, suppose it’s the same as the junkie, just a little neater and more respectable, the prescriber wore a suit and had credentials on the wall, while the other dealer, well, in the dark light it was hard to read his face, where do they get their ideas from.

Solomon sighed, they said the same in Rome all those years ago, this God thing is just another of their helpless idols, look what he has done for them, filled them with hope, nothing more. History proved otherwise, but at least we have the remains of the old empire, reminders of their follies, imagine it, they had it all once, now they have nothing.

Donald has a plan…..

Sir, you just can’t abandon the united nations sir, it’s undemocratic answered his sidekick, a party pundit, but what could he say, chuckling, undemocratic, we are republicans after all. Donald was looking out the window of the tower, he preferred the furnishings there to the oval office, he was in his stocking feet, was feeling light of heart. War he said, while scanning the Manhattan skyline has been with us since the beginning almost, and the U.N. was set up to curb war, but it has not stopped one from where i am looking. it’s impossible, to accept there is nothing i can do about it, i’m president after all, one word from me and a war will start tomorrow, that isn’t wisdom, that is pure foolishness. A secretary was typing his mutterings, her fingers flying across her IPad, got that treacy he smiled, yes boss she replied, i also got a tuna sandwich for you later.

Donald smiled, i can always count on women, my mother he sighed, thinking of her.

Center for the prevention of war, make that C-pow for short. Eureka, that’s it. In a nutshell, there will be a body to prevent war, and a penalty for those who start them without consulting us, a big financial one. Great idea Mr President, who thought it sounded very cliched, C pow first war after.  The national debt was at twenty trillion, every modern country was in debt, a new start was needed, for everyone.

It was a simple idea, too simple almost. Solomon sighed, wasn’t that what Jesus said all those years ago, once you forgive that’s it ,amen, the end of hatred, the stuff that eats you from the inside, amen.

Do you like Lobster jack!

She hummed and hawed, the beef looked over done, there was no obvious blood flowing, the tell tale drops that fall from the piece as you drag it to your plate, when semi rare. The serving lady waited, proper bitch she thought, who does she think she is. A thickly perfumed lobster was before her on a different tray, she wanted the surf and turf affect. And they spoiled it because there was  no blood flowing from it, the beef. The cutlery rattled another fifteen minutes, as the gathering scrapped their plates, apart from her lady ship, who hardly toyed with it at all, like the lobster jack she said under her breath, loud enough to be

heard by those close to her, i’m not satisfied the tone of voice, why did they drag me out of bed for this, she was an aging diva, but this was no ordinary event; it was a fund raiser for the famine effort, organised by one of her oldest friends, her former agent, he didn’t supply parts anymore, other than tacky over cooked beef. She thought it was a call for work, another final role in her startling career. They used to flash them for me, i could leave them waiting an hour and they would still be waiting, for her, the greatest diva of them all.

There is a tingle of glasses, silence, the auction begins, an air of excitement, ready to bid dear, the quite call of many of the celebrity gatherers, you can even have dinner with Donald trump i hear, he’s supposed to have offered it, for twenty five thousand dollars though. I never knew he was so thoughtful says another. Am i offered ten thousand folks, this is the T-Shirt Bono wore on his last world tour, come on ladies cries the MC for the night, imagine the memories and your stories, imagine it he says. Who owns the T-Shirt dear, didn’t i tell you, you mean he was here!.

The Baby lets the jelly flow from the relief packet, it’s a nutrient filled mixture, will keep her alive another week!. Her mother tries to smile, a TV producer is trying to get a smile from her, the contrast, the mothers joy at the food the child consumes, help. Well, make that a common feeling, connect the two. The producer isn’t cold hearted, he’s trying to max the event to the full, connect emotionally with the future TV audience.

Solomon was listening to the radio in his small apartment, another call for help, 24 million starving, hope they react he thought; the Spirit he encountered was not of this world, meant that God was in the game and not going away either. What does he see through the eyes of children, what voices does he hear, is there an extra response expected from the gifted!, pass the lobster Jack, it’ll pass for now. With reluctance she begins to spoon the shell, the sauce is excellent, makes up for the over cooked beef, there are people starving after all.

 

 

 

The Vulnerable and the Venerable

We have a system for that, next question please, yes, we have a system for that, next question, i already answered that question, anymore questions, the venerable speaker is reassuring the audience, the world wide audience, that all is being done to end the exploitation of women and children around the world. The appearance of a strange object in the sky has sharpened his enthusiasm, it’s been deemed to be an object from another world, there is talk of it being from a heavenly world, God perhaps!. Images of Moses in the desert are being awakened in the hearts of many, the french exodus from Paris at the beginning of the second great war is being cited as a warning, of the great exodus too, in downtown Manhattan they are dropping champagne cocktails as if it’s the end of days, traders mainly, who spent their entire lives devoted to money and the exploitation of anyone willing to listen to them. The numbers are repeating says an old priest, even the trumpet is sounding; Donald Trump is live on the TV screens in times square, reassuring the world, there is space for everyone in trump tower.

Far away, in a small office, a street smart marketer is going over the numbers, the data as he calls it; there are more single women than ever with access to wealth, who are lonely. A psychologist points out the potential within this data group. Because they are vulnerable, well everyone seeking love in the current climate is vulnerable, well, these ladies have cash, and this loving person is pointing out ways to relieve them of their cash, albeit legally. The other lonely’s don’t matter, they have nothing to give, the usual sex route has been cooked drawn and quartered as they say. Well charlie, how do we empty those cashmere pockets Sydney?.

Why not set up women friendly gambling websites, color them nice, those chicks love make-up, add a few free spins, get them hooked or regular users, and bobs your uncle, watch the cash flow in. Charlie you are a genius. The trade grows, the cash is blown, the universal needs that are not satisfied have to find an outlet, exploitation or exploration, is there really any difference.

Solomon sighed, is there a law against such behaviour, he shook his head, it’s totally legal on this planet. He is sitting in a restaurant in times square, the Donald is over his shoulder on the big screen, imagine it, the cost of a suite in trump tower has been halved on account of the alien intervention, that isn’t bad i suppose. A waitress approaches his table, Solomon’s, can’t smoke sir, she points to the sign, and it’s punishable by a term in detention and a five thousand dollar fine, he puts the cigarettes back in his pocket. Just yesterday he sighs, he was watching a movie from the past, in every scene the main actors was smoking away, for all to see, exploiting the young, as if it mattered then. How a few years change everything, the vulnerable and the venerable, nice name for a movie. He thought for a moment, if you go out of your way to exploit others knowingly, is that theft or business he wondered. he looked up at the sky, no way!. that’s the cloud i say before, amen.

The Fisher King

There is no point in printing this, it’s too moral, there isn’t an audience for this stuff Steve, nobody cares when God, (he makes the sign, comma’s with his fingers) nobody cares if God arrives next week, to tell you the truth, they are more interested in what gets there Jim bobs going, or how to pay for the next trip to fantasy island, sorry, but that’s the truth. There are niche people, i’d call them weirdo’s, but i don’t want to offend you. There are other books on the table, “forty whips” and “bleed till you drain”, graphic violence titles, the agent gestures, palm open style, weary Steve gets the point, if there is  no hard core in the story no one wants to read them. It’s the sad fact he reflects upon as he walks the pavement, his first visit with the agency the last as far as he see’s it. In the world that has no place for God, anything goes, it’s a cruel world and Steve has to accept it.

Solomon watched the fisher man, he wasn’t casting uselessly, he was waiting till the time was right before he cast. It began with a few fishermen, change their tactics, a long time ago, fishers of men they became, did anyone understand what it really meant, or was it as simple as the influence we have on other lives. there was so much complications added for so many years, over a thousand years in fact, to a message that was simple, together as One we are strong. In a world of individuals, where was

yourself, fill in the blanks sighed Solomon. Don’t give up Steve, times are seriously changing, amen.

The Garden

The evening air, the fading light, the warmth, mid summer, sitting around a table, trees to the left, grass at the feet, a beer in one hand, a few friends around. They were meeting with a Spirit, a stranger but a friend, the power of the universe was in their hands. The words of old were lost in translation, one of them utters, they all agree. The number of wars fought in the name of God, all because of the translations. Every way you look at it, it has to be a flowing river, and it has to be allowed it’s natural course. Was he talking about the river, the words, or was it themselves. He them made a triangle with his hands, it’s this simple. We are all part of the living earth, given talents and energies, how we respond is the same plight as the gardener and the crops, it’s what you put into the experiences that decides the outcome. They looked at each other, they were all young fathers, there children’s future depended on what they did, with the garden.

Where’s The Bread

Solomon wondered what the ancient scriptures meant, spent time working them out, after all, many conflicts were started over the misinterpretation of same, and any light on the situation might help the problem from not repeating. Organised religion was too worried about organisation and regulation to give it serious thought, not surprising, their differences seemed to get wider, while they all offered praise to God Most High. You fed me, you gave me shelter, you healed my thirst, you were there for me, basically, you were a friend, amen. was it that simple. How many careers were made by those pretending to be devout, how many politicians found their power from it’s clout. How many chose the side they thought would win, where’s the bread you mean, amen.