Leonard Cohen, We miss your songs

 

As reliable as the autumn rains, he maintained his skills to the very end, poured out wisdom the only way he could, used words to stir us to action, and was soul filled, inspired so much thought, opened many closed hearts.

It is October, the season of winter approaches as we prepare for it, the clothes have changed, we wrap up tighter, there is stuff we have to do, how nature teaches us, we mind Mother Nature she keeps everything in order, we have to remind ourselves, while there are 24 hours in a day, and so many days in a year, in truth, from the moment you woke this morning, did you sleep well, whatever, in this 24/7 world so many chatter about, the strong able to take advantage of the weary and the naive, after all the future plans and schemes, is there anything but a day, in every life. Slow down, the bear needs to hibernate, the butterfly is getting ready in the husk, in a few months time it will make it’s debut, all this preparation for the changing days ahead, is it not time we listened to nature, without worrying, it’s only a day after all. Thanks Leonard, for all the evenings to filled my mind with calm, amen.

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Outside World

 

He closes the door, the walk isn’t too far, he wants a cigarette, a fix in the morning a bite in the afternoon, a few cans in the middle, and by four he will be out of it again, outside the world. She will pass by him and shrug, he is on a bench outside the church, lifting her eyes to heaven, she remarks

, did you see the like of that, alcohol drenched sloshed in front of your church, no respect she mutters beneath her breath. He eyes her as she passes; would she ever throw a few coins, has she any heart at all. She can hear his thoughts, his eyes stab her like daggers, in the back. All he does is drink it, she ignores him and walks on.

Mrs O’Neill says the cashier, she is inside the women’s fashion shop, everywhere, it’s spotless and shiny, she is there to try the new dress, there is a wedding coming up. It’s awful what you see on the street these days remarks Mrs O’Neill, referring to the drunk slumped over the bench down by the church. The attendant ignores the remark. A half hour later, Larry is slouched completely, lying motionless on the pavement now. In sleep land, he does not notice Mrs O’Neill as she passes; the smell of alcohol and that other smell, have they no respect she says.

Solomon heard two women in conversation, the sight of alcohol soaked bodies hanging around the sanctuary is too much for them, they have to speak up. What the children are exposed to one of them says. Solomon smiled, God works in wondrous ways, giving us tips, and angels come in all sorts of guises, many times just warning us all, of the outside worlds.

How Many Victims do you Need?

Solomon sighed, the dream, the frenzy, the fear, the blood hatred in the eyes of those seeking justice, the lengths they were willing to go, they wanted their victim, they sought blood. Was this a re telling of the Great Play, by William, The Merchant of Venice, how our desire for so called justice blinds the light inside us.  It was dream time, and he was sharing the worries of another, a young relation of a war victim, as everyone who partakes in war are victims, the winners and the losers, what are they left with; the fields of Vietnam, the concentration camps of world war two, so many victims. Solomon reflected on how the values of an older generation were side lined, as a more modern minded, justice now mind set, took over the leadership of many flocks, and how they used past hatreds to corral the flock into action. None of them held memorials for the millions of children, abused indirectly over the internet, having to digest what few of us could escape unharmed from. How many lives had ended, when the posse was in pursuit, Jesus among them, the thirst for justice becoming a drug as the mob got larger and larger. Revelation sighed Solomon, they might not listen to the words of the Prophets, but they did react to revelation, knowing their day for their judgement could arrive any given day.

Solomon smiled, he caught the dream, listened, saw the spotlight shine on the so called refugee, villain, the light shone for a minute, perhaps less, the mob now has a thirst, the chase over this time, they headed off in search of another. Father, Teach them he prayed. They try to raise the fears in others to justify themselves; and the harm they cause grows like a virus. Solomon say the signs, saw the Spirit, what a sight, and every day since, he was writing rescue remedies, with a lot of success.

The Gift

“Imagine it, your thoughts can be used to remedy, heal, improve, restrict demons, curtail extremism, and an awful lot more, while being still able to enjoy a nice glass of wine, not forgetting the simple things, the peace of mind that good sleep brings, imagine, those demons of the night, they can do nothing, simply aware, of the future that awaits them, and being merciful, at least they get the opportunity to amend, and it’s all real.”

“Are you for real she says”, interrupting his flow. I only asked him about the book he was reading, she didn’t expect a thesis.

They are sitting side by side on the Jet, they are both flying across the ocean, strangers, she had asked a question about a book he was reading, “the imitation of life according to Jesus”. It’s a five hour flight, and he reminds her of someone from her past. She does not fear asking questions. Well, if he is reading a book about “Jesus”, he has to be friendly and easy to open a dialogue with, she hopes. Her own trust in the world is on a downer, divorced, discarded, dumped, thrown overboard, at a loose end, she is looking for the light. She’s been in this frame of mind all day, the journey she is making, a rest and escape from it all.

You don’t believe he says with a smile. Her eyes rise in her head, she looks at the ceiling, if only he knew she thinks. Dumping her stuff on a stranger, who wants to hear about other peoples woes. She purses her lips, half looks at the book cover, then begins to speak.

“If he was so right way back then, it seems he has disappeared don’t you think,” she lowers her eyes to the book.

Jesus she says again. He smiles, it’s catching isn’t it he smiles. The more you think of the Holy Name, the memories and feelings that are created. Well she says, you seem confident about it, can you explain it simply for me. He hums and haws. No one want’s to be a bad teacher, and not every question can be answered as if it’s coming from a machine or robot.

His tongue swirls around his mouth, he catches the scent of her perfume, it makes his nose itchy, he reaches up and rubs his nose.

“Spirit he says, it’s inside you, and there is the Spirit of God, that stuff you call the soul. If you imagine your soul as a new computer, without scratches, then years later, used, with a few cuts and smears, after years of usage, when you are prepared to put it in the rubbish, you might call it a journey. Life is like that disc. What condition is it in at the end of the journey when it’s returned to the original vendor, do you get me he says.”

She is confused, she is trying to get her head around it. Who wants a philosophy lesson on a mid Atlantic flight. Computer discs, souls, the condition at the end, she is thinking all these bits. He looks at her, can see that she is digesting what he has said, waits.

Confusing he says, she pauses, well, it’s not what I expected. The air hostess is passing with the trolley. Can I have a gin and tonic he says, and yourself he says. Non drinker she says.

She listens to the crackle of the ice, as the liquid flows over the ice. He listens and talks well, she wonders how long the flight is, there are many questions she wants answers to. Being an achiever all her life, this conversation is something she does not want to miss. Her Heart feels lighter, that name she sighs, Jesus.

Impossible

Getting off your ass, saying goodbye to your friends, then waiting to be shot, on the orders of some despot sitting in a office somewhere, unbelievable, you could not write it, let alone imagine it. He slits the bag of powder, sticks in the tasting tool, tries to figure the potency, then smiles, agrees the price, great shit he says, putting down the small tool in his hand, the money is passed over, everyone is happy, business done, the powder delivered. A crime spree, the addicts can’t pay for it otherwise, it’s not fancy, it’s not a mansion behind closed doors, it’s not cool, but it ought to be legalized in some way, well, they chemical concoctions are unlimited and can’t be legislated for, impossible, the contents of the concoction are not in the legislation, so the lawyers say, the ones who come up with the rules.

Solomon sighed, he wasn’t frigid mentally, didn’t scoff the green, was glad to indulge, liked to get free of the world, so much stuff they go around with in their heads. They all carry baggage even if they don’t admit it, no one can fool the almighty. How simple he sighed, had they even heard of the intention of the law, not what was written, same applied to ancient scripture, a guide to the traveler, not the actual journey. One day, it’s a stream, that is what you are, impossible to believe, well try it first, before you give out.

Zombies rise from the trenches of the first great war, one after another, they walk into the metal barrage and fall dead, on top of each other, whose great plan was that. All these years later, only the arms manufacturing industry, the only industry that got the benefit, worth trillions, it has to start somewhere.

Toxic Waste

Toxic man. nothing worth stealing what do you imagine he, they will do, she raises her nose, it’s out from her face. pointy, as pointy as her narrow mind, they will steal from us, what else do they want she says, he sniggers, a swingers club, both high on speed and coke, he reaches over the bench, it’s a shared situation, you empty into one, then into someone else, satisfaction and thrill, the elite thrill, well it costs a bundle to get in, you have to be seriously perverse, she is a socialite, he’s an aspiring politician, used to be with the clan, till he founded his own hard line group.  Quentin Tarantino, with real life without the flash of the pyrotechnics and the over hype, good old swing time, no talk of global warming, no immigrant nations, no internet, a lot of closed countries, cruel dictatorships and plots, assassinations, eighties america, God a thought, religious groups with control, talks of wars, the right wingers, and the threat from the liberals, toxic waste, dangerous, damn it, they even hate war, have they no idea how to protect the nation, he rages on, his ear against hers, he is carrying on with another socialite, passing on his hatred, some guy.

Don’t you believe in Jesus she says, all giggling, high as a trapeze artist. he reaches and snorts, not unless he has money he laughs and is american. They both break into a furious bout of laughter, I never heard that before she says, her eyes are pins.

Thirty years later, he is a respected politician, well, he bought opinion and reputation, and sided with those who were defenders of the nation, so called. Meanwhile, The heavenly power they assumed never existed, it’s been awhile, is being felt in many places, toxic waste disposal unit, he finds himself in jail, his friends are getting seriously nervous too, they are supposed to, he sold out everyone he knows….

Remove them sighed Solomon and replace them with righteous leaders, amen.

 

World Wide Weary…

How many people, it must run to many millions, the number of people, men women, many professional, who spend there time conducting inquiries, regurgitating old news, while everyday another reason for inquiry reaches their doors, the proverbial tsunami of bureaucracy, Pakistan, New Delhi, Geneva, Washington, Ireland, the United Kingdom, everywhere you look, inquiries into the past, while ignoring the now, what a waste of total resources, enough inquiries to feed the hungry and house the homeless across the whole darn world, so much world wide inquiry that is making so many, world wide weary. It’s a pity sighed Solomon, the total waste of resource, for sure he sighed, Jesus would shake his head at them, if it keeps them busy and so many employed doing zilch when it comes to results, they are just confirming the words of old; very few of them are wise.

Outrage in the minds of the conscientious, without inquiry we would forget it all, without inquiry so many jobs would not exist. Meanwhile, 25 trillion lies off shore, safe from inquiry, and there is no inquiry into that at all, it doesn’t add up. So many were blind, and so many righteous too, pure weary. Solomon was asking for wisdom to intervene, and being a daily seeker, he was expecting answers. There were those who wanted the attention of all to be stuck to this world, while ignoring the promise of the world to come, there ought to be an inquiry into that he sighed, what is rare he sighed, the use of wisdom at all. A smile crosses his face, once you float the ship it sails, once you push out the idea, the tide changes. It had been going on for some years now, amen. Do you want to be healed, he imagined many did. If that’s the case, focus on the world inside, Spirit, it always survives. Those who tampered with the well being of Spirit, were now putting themselves firmly in the eyes of the Heavenly life, amen.

Meanwhile, the vulnerable children are being fed into the machine, while those conducting those inquiries, are doing what…..

When you see the cloud, Spirit, great changes, unstable leaders, nations in chaos, well, it’s time you read the ancient scriptures, it’s been said it was going to be like this..Mercy!