Young Turk

Hair greased, slicked back, he is not attitude, he does not recognize authority, not of the human kind, his goal is heavenly, has seen his home village destroyed, the pain and trauma, the cheap words of world leaders, after every atrocity,  they have been saying the same thing for years, pass the book, let the next set of leaders take the chance, see how long will they last, meanwhile plan for retirement, and a comfy living, while observing the harm, from all their inaction. Did Jesus say the same, words are great, prayers too, but without love in actions to support, what were you anyway, an empty vessel, a lot of noise and nothing else, as for those long winded applauded speeches, just yellow paper now, faded as the dreams were, the hopes raised that never flew. The Young Turk does not intend to suffer that fate. He is patient, he intends no harm, and will do his thing, he does not want to loose the heavenly connections, that is what has been happening, these last fifty years. The Young Turk has ideas of his own, prays it straight, and when he does, the help always arrives, no fool him.

So many refugees on the move, so many trying to find a home, clean water, it used to be all over the place, why did we have to pour poison into the water; well, the child in rags playing in the rubble, forever hopeful. Solomon sighed, may the schemes of extremism and those who plan such things, implode of the extremists, amen. can’t we just accept we are different at times, amen.

Solomon sighed, he told the health professional a few details of Life in the Spirit, the struggle between the material and eternal life. Well, it’s not easy being a believer sometimes; it puts an onus on you.

Te Amo

Amo, what are you saying, the old geezer lifts his head, he is old, it’s tough, the muscles are weak, lying on the pillow, not enough exercise, getting older, still wise though, has his faculties. Te Amo, he says, she listens in close, the nurse, what is it your trying to say, she leans closer, can feel the breath from his mouth, Te Amo, he repeats, she sighs, can’t make it out, getting old, it’s hard to understand what is being said. Amo chases the room with his eyes, Amo he says, Amo, a memory returns to him, how he used to enjoy making people smile, women in particular, and children, being a man, he was not impressed with the male attitude, always in a hurry, did they ever hear of the word, wait.

Valentines day, he had friends, some old as himself, they having gruff attitudes to the love, living in cuckoo land, giving out, complaining, the world is wrong, had a view on all that was wrong, acted like politicians mostly, as if it was approval they sought, maybe covering up their own fears. Cheer those damn souls up, Valentines day, and the feelings in it, he would send them out cards, at least get them wondering, think different awhile, you will be surprised, who sent that?

 

He left me twenty years ago, Solomon listens, a blob of Guinness on his lips, being polite, he lets her rant on, who else would listen to this, no wonder he left you he thinks, still smiling at her, he must have been real bad to have that impact on you, he says, as he reaches for the new one, new Guinness, and you still haven’t forgiven him then, why should I she says, she goes on and on, meanwhile Solomon listens, how a conversation can ruin a Guinness moment. Did you ever hear of Love he says, she looks at him as if he has sixteen eyes and looks like a sheep, oddly, what’s that she says, Solomon raises his eyes, I will be on the whiskey soon if she keeps this up, did you ever hear of Te Amo, is that a drink she asks, mind if I go to the bathroom he says. So many wars fought over love that goes wrong, history of the human race, amen.

You saved a life today….

Are you listening, read on, you actually saved a life today, she shakes her head, this guy is looney, she is a nurse, he is a psychiatric patient, long term, she plays along, say nothing, this guy is nuts, his smile, she has seen it a hundred times, you saved a life today, he is repeating the same words, the look in his eye, the sooner she is out of the room the better, your meds, he takes the glass of water in his hand, closes his eyes. She watches him swallow the pills, job done. See you later she says, as she turns to leave the room. He is a long termer, no prospect of getting released, institutionalised.

She is about to close the door, he calls her back, I got a present for you he says. From under his pillow, he removes a plastic bag. He skakes it at her, her eyes widen in surprise, the red blues and pinks, she recognises them, pills.

Like I said he smiled, you saved my life today.

How did I do that she asks tentatively, while taking the plastic in her hand.

You said hello with a smile that’s all.

Blocked

no new ideas, stuck, nothing fresh going on, got a habit that I hate, got a cat that shits a lot, man does that need cleaning up, blocked, I hope you don’t upset the cat. He pressed the button, the machine, it produced a rhythm, a beat, he put a few lyrics over it, adjusted the volume, played them low played them high, a bit like a lotto player, fancy word for a gamble, how he frame words, sounds better, compulsive deniers, when we don’t like the news, we turn it off, the head can only hold so much. Imagine it, the stuff the head has to hoard, the so called important stuff, the stuff going back years. Unless it’s the heart, why would it be important?

Turkish Delight

Behind the gilded doors, the high fives, another currency in trouble, the analysts get it right, there is a weakness, all they need is the guide, the lawmaker or the judge, pronounces, the verdict in, the fund managers scream shouts of Joy, another fortune for those in the background, and their friends. High tariff’s the nail in the coffin of the T

Turkish economy, the economy is not going to escape it, a safe bet. The futures they bought have doubled in value overnight, and more to come, as the men behind the scenes, work out the details in other markets, all done under the proud name of the Eagle. Meanwhile, the white extremists smile, they assume this is their policy come through, too stupid to realize they are just tools, in the money making scheme.

Leaders with no empathy, those with no emotional connections, surrounded by liked minded, those who envy the position of the other, together linked, the game, making life hell for some, while making fortunes for themselves. Solomon wondered, why it was allowed to go on, all those trades were ear marked, on the accounts of banks, just another way to distribute wealth, cleanly, create a crisis and plunder. In a time when Spirit was in short supply, it was blind of them to behave this way. Together, was a word few ever understood, unless it was to do with selfish endeavour. Meanwhile, the extreme minds, play the games, winding up their supporters, reminding them of new victories, appealing to them, divide and move up. It’s a pity they never think as such, when it comes to the stuff in your face, the news of divine intervention, it had to mean something. Solomon thought hard, the old days, the warnings, even on the last days, they would refuse to believe, so it seems.

The Numbers Game

The blood pressure indicator, 180 over a hundred, and he is only twenty five, the surgeon assumes he has had an overdose of cocaine, the nurse waits for the instructions, how many mills doc, serious Broklyn accent, the needle in her hand, a smile on her tilted face, red lipstick on, the fancies the doctor, they had a fling once, what about the near stiff on the gurney, she casts a half glance, seen that before, a numbers game she sighs, and do I have a number for you doc, you are my number one. Callous or what, she gets up at six in the morning if she is lucky, meaning a weekend, on a weekday, she rises at four thirty, the traffic you see, is busier. She dolls herself in her cute uniform, dons some sweet smelling stuff , in a couple of hours time, she will be changing their nappies and smelling their shit, we all need a break.

The lord says, the preacher is on the pulpit, talking about the ways of the Most High, talking, he has a big speech to give to a few politicians later, they are coming over for a private blessing, some new start, the beginning of the next session of congress, he has an appeal to make, but first he must get done with this lot. A numbers game, going from crowd to crowd, the elite have the dollars, the masses give him the credibility, numbers.

Solomon read the news, numbers, numbers, the cost of everything, the price of oil,. the speed of the car, the time of day, numbers, numbers, turns the channel, the social life of a diva, well, what is a diva, someone with lots of numbers after their bank account seemingly, otherwise, strange he thought, listening to numbers. He wondered why there was a book of numbers in the old testament only, and not in the new testament, numbers, it put a price and a limit on everything. How was it possible to stop thinking about numbers, since all it did was remind you, of all the numbers you were short. Size twelve wants to be a size ten, six foot wants to be six two, five five wears implants, and the 36D wants to become a 38DD chest, numbers, could they think of something else, other than numbers!.. what else is inside their heads, coffee and biscuits maybe?

Bullying

Spying behavior, the seeds of discontent, the worry at the changes, was it ever that different, Solomon was recalling the times of old, the mind set hadn’t changed, many were still addicted to control, some call it freedom, some call

it destiny, some called the tactics clever, Solomon called them cheap.

Down through the ages, it hadn’t changed at all, the innuendo, the threat to the followers, the anxiety and the hold. In the Networks there was anxiety, in the investors world, paranoia, things weren’t reacting as they used to, as if that was good for you. Picture it, the folksy chat, the painted gardens, the smiles and the comrades, the sense of getting close to the goal, soon we will have absolute control, then Imagine, the arrival of Great Spirit, Jesus, the movie when the outsider arrives, and how plans are thrown into the dust heap, while all the time the bullying continues.

Move to the modern times, the headlines, the over reaction of TV pundits, willing their supporters on.

It was one of those days, the sensibilities are interfered with, as if you are supposed to get used to it. Solomon sighed, the words of old on his lips,

“like children you must be when you approach the Father”

Those who covet control, want you beaten, tired, worn Spiritless, unless it’s them you support. He saw the spirit rise, he saw the strut constrict, Spirit means God, amen, and there was nothing anyone could do about that. You just know, it’s inside you, changes the thinking, and that’s for sure.

The Person Inside

Four different foundations, each one a shade lighter, she is after the perfect look, she is giving a presentation, there will be cameras and journalists, her outward appearance really matters, the public are influenced by what they see, pretty gets all the attention at the start, what about it she puts on some blusher as well, who can blame her.

The baby is a few days old, pink flesh with eyes arms that move, fed every four hours as per the instructions, the nurse calls every week to assist with the new born health, it’s important to get the foundations right at the start, has an affect on baby the diet the sleep pattern the well being of mother, the person inside needs all this basic nurture.

The four year old child has the phone in his hands, his mother grabs it takes if from him, your too young for all that stuff, wait til you grow up she says with adoring eyes, he screams and screams she says no, she gives him a biscuit calms his troubles away, distraction and other inputs the child will be safer without the mobile phone..

Later, why can’t I do that, well, if that’s what they do, why not me, it’s reasonable logic, he is only a child. Twenty years of online provocation, a click and your on the site, enticed with words, reminded daily by image, your natural workings interfered with, how easy it is, to undermine the well being of the Spirit inside…

The battle was ongoing, the young souls were under assault, the mighty angels were busy, the old networks were falling, the changes were coming everyday, who could imagine it, so many changes in so short a time. Solomon was recalling the pressure so many young were under, as depression was being recorded with alarming frequency, in the very young, a warning call, it was putting pressure on the seed provider, amen.

Feeling Sorry….

Tired day long night had too much did a bit too much stuff, head hurts, sleep unruly, facing the day, another Monday, difficult getting out of bed, I really want to get out of my head, the world is mean and I am feeling sorry for myself, what have i done to deserve this, crunch, the world revolves around me, cause all there is, is me, my problem, thinking about nobody but myself, the root of my problems. Reaching for the medication, it’s not prescribed, two pills later on your feet, thinking about going to work, is there something i missed. The coffee is sharp, the brain unwinds, do the teeth, thought of having a shower, a splash of deodorant will cover the smell, get me through to the evening.

The stairwell is navigated, soon your on the street, rush along, where is the nearest transport, you don’t feel like walking, then you rush across the street, it’s busy, you’ve done in a thousand times, rushed, you get a thrill out of danger, the white shit you suck up your nose, mixed with rat poison to get you a little higher, when did you last read the contents of any medical product, probably never, you just accept the doctors advice. The kids are unruly in the car, she turns around, the latest scream from the three year old, ear shattering, too much, she wants to give him a …bang crash, he slides into the path of the car, slipped on a banana skin, she is unable to react, you go under the car, crunch, you hear your bones shatter…. the light, they are all around you, you can see can’t hear, feeling sorry…

Solomon lazed over a coffee, it had been a tiring day, the usual suspects were at it again, selling fear and anxiety, as if trying to unhinge him, selling him their habits, as if trying to be helpful. He goes through the day, it was exciting in parts, he enjoyed the banter, the way a smart politician enjoys a debate, he was listening, adding bits and pieces, not trying to over indulge. The bathroom is busy, two no hopers sniffing their heads off, well, they started behind everyone else, education poor and their parents alcoholics, feeling sorry.

On the street, he is there, it’s been a rough life, over reacting to the abuse passed on, the sentence a long one, we’ll make an example shouts the judge, the domineering father, church sponsored most of it if the religious would only admit it, his bags with him, all his possessions, slept with those just as unfortunate, while 25 trillion rests off short, and five times that elsewhere; the old man smiles, Solomon asks for a light, he needs is buzz too, we are all in this together, walks on. Feeling sorry, no shower, no bed, no place to put your things, right in front of you, how many just pass and say nothing at all, afraid of contagion. Then the woman taking over the duties of the priest cause the priest did an elvis and never showed up, how things change so quickly, feeling sorry, do something about it, for someone else, amen, your deeds determine who you are, amen. when three meet in my Name, the Father is there with you, words of Jesus, you are not alone. Solomon sighed, the nights he spent on Knock hill with the two old boys, the stuff you remember, and all the big talk shit that means nothing at all, just as the Father said.

The Descendants

He will make a good looking father, she is all bling, he has a sharp hair cut, and she has never been to speck savers. The jewelery is stolen, the car is hire purchase, and his wealth is based on using the vulnerable, he will make a great father. She likes his car, he has four of them, a triple garage, six houses, and an unlimited supply of cash, he will make a good father…., her children will look like him, that’s all that matters, it’s how she judges the world…

Solomon was doing a study of his genealogy, the family tree, where we came from, who our parents were, who their parents were and so forth, the habits, the interests, what is in your make up, interesting stuff, and recalled the ancient scriptures, and the line of descendants laid out, from the time of adam, down to Noah, and beyond, each generation a step, to this time and place.

Well, he was trying to understand why it would be so in the ancient books. He recalls the story of Jacobs well, the field given to the descendants, Abraham, and the promise of God, as retold by descending generations, and why it was recorded The lists are laid out, he read them, there for all to read, why was it so.

Reminders to our past he sighed, we are connected by faith, and the ancient stories remind us, the stories of old are true, the Power of God makes everything possible. He sighed, a friend was ill, and was bearing up, there are signs in the heavens, divine help is about, time to ask for a little help, we are all descendants, amen.

Just imagine it, you just have to pray it better, it’s that simple.