One Day

The room is full of machines, she is lying on the bed, slowly in recovery from the shock, a shopping trip, she ends up at the hospital instead, the change in circumstance. Life changes so suddenly, she is unsure, strangers about her, a friend enters the room, she breathes a sigh of relief. There is a real conversation, what happened the friend says. She looks at the machines before continuing. I felt dizzy, and must have blacked out. Her friend sighs to herself, no slur in the speech, no stroke.  The two friends look at each other; they have been partners for a long time, doing everything together. What would I do if anything happened you she says, the visitor. One change and we are all affected, are we selfish to think this way. One day your buoyant and going places, the next day your a stone in the wall, someone else is leaning on you. Experience is like that. All the pebbles, the days that seemed nothing, now lying there, she is glad to have an ordinary day, any day free from the machines. If she walks away on her own steam she will be satisfied.

Solomon heard news of a friend who had a sudden health change. The circle of friends had lost a cog, and while it is temporary, it’s still a hole in the circle. The roles we play in life, the harmless seeming moments, when a regular stranger stops by and enjoys the company, respite from a crazy world. How the Spirit needs a rest from the drama’s of the world and the failure of many of the religious to understand the basics of Spiritual needs. One day they would hopefully understand, amen.

It happens, the sudden changes, the appeal to God Most High, the call. Do we hear the cry of the emigrant, or did we turn our eyes away when we saw the poverty on the street, embarrassed to look in case it was a disease you could catch. One day, the question will be on all our lips, could we have done more.

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I just Growing up…

She sits in the chair, a little subdued, the medication, she sits while she waits, she is not so sturdy, they gave her a diagnosis, the memory disease, well, it’s an age thing. The limbs don’t have the same stretch, your energy isn’t what it was, the eyes not a clear as they used to be, the appetite too, not as appealing, getting old they said, Mable sighs, I am on a journey, I’m not giving up, I am growing up. A mind of her own, her own ideas, she didn’t beleive the blarney of men in charge, thanks rubbish, who filled them with such stuff, who. She fought her life seeking equality, now the journey has brought her to the care home, at the mercy of those she railed against, those that followed the rules. A nurse approaches, Mabel frowns, the pills, the last time she refused it, they sedated her a whole day, and gave her god knows what. I was just forgetting stuff, doesn’t everybody do that. How much do so many hide inside their heads. How those playing games would change the topic once the questions got testy. No one is allowed question the experts.

Solomon smiled, the story he heard on the radio, the lady with the mind disease, all she wanted, treated me as I am, it’s not your pity I want. Getting old sighed Solomon, we just want to be accepted. The story is never ending, it’s just a change in circumstances, one day you breath, the next your a bird, flying somewhere. Do birds worry when they wake, do they reach for the medication. Mabel, she is a living being in a fast changing world, so fast, the time to look after her is no longer left to relatives, the world so busy, it can hardly look after itself.

The weather, warm and sunny, no one rushing, the only que at the ice cream van, mabel recalls the days of old, how everything that a mother could do was done, same as it always was, by mothers across the world. There is a bitter taste in Mabels mouth, its’ not the tablets, its the story in the paper. The role of women, whitewashed from all circles of importance from the beginning of christianity, then copied by other religions, framing the mind set, bastards she sighs to herself.

Let go and let the Universe

If it’s inside you, let it go, do something, angry man, angry woman, takes it out on the next emotional encounter, damn, why didn’t I talk about it, it would have made life so much easier, damn. Wise old man listens, the results of trust gone wrong, no one will talk to another, except on a very shallow level, even celebrities have figured this, when they see their laundry on the news, the following week. Dawn, those who destroy trust and the harm they pass on.

Bursting inside, think before you act, what is right will feel good, what it wrong will squeeze you, then again, how often are you right.

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.

Letting the secrets flow…

Having troubles, demons around, had enough, want to do something about it, “Joe the Slink” wears a sly grin, a member of the green mafia, an Irish outfit, he is passing on advice to a new member, there is the sense of desperation for anyone who wants to join, so Joe wants to impress the new member, give him a signing on present, same way they give you a bonus when you sign on for war, well, unless your medicated how else are you supposed to kill someone, you have to fill the head, get rooted as they say.

Man of poor reputation, throws the goodwill, gifts, suddenly, he’s all right. Joe the slink is no different, we wants the new recruit to have a happy first day, so he asks the new Member, “Sean, is there anything we can do for you he says”. The boy smiles, they are the words he wanted to hear.

“My Mother wants to get rid of demons and she says all you have to do is pray in the Name of Jesus, for someone good to pray for it, and your prayer is held, can you do that Mr Slink, please!”

Joe has got a dilemma, the kid is asking him to commit suicide.

The boy goes home, his head down, sad faced, Joe wasn’t able to pray for it, what will he tell his Mother, I failed.

“I told you they were all the same didn’t I!”

 

 

Lifting the lid….

Have you ever realized as to the number of people who don’t wash their hands after doing their thingee, and the rise in infectious diseases as a result of it, just saying, It’s a bit of a stink, imagine the child in care, dependent on the adults who are not family, insecure, well, it’s why he is in care anyway, a what does it matter, if he overdosed Friday he”s forgotten an hour later, that’s a bit of a stretch I know, just bouncing ideas off the lid, gosh did another drop hit the seat, no one will notice anyway, did I wash my hands, who’ll notice, aha, so the world is a dirty place, no wonder the native tribes suffered when the white man arrived, all those diseases they brought with them.

Solomon was reading the story of the sentinel Islands, where an adventurer tried to engage with the native people, protected from such intrusions, by law, to cut to the chase, they fire down arrows on him and he’s killed, god bless him. This group of natives are kept isolated from mankind, because of the risk of disease the white man carries, and this is the 21st century.

Monday night, the news, the expose about those prisoners in their own homes, bullied and terrified, women who are slaves, children not allowed to have opinions, any form of Spirit, damned from the outset, cause it is against the rules.  The same goes on in front of your eyes, and it’s the story of many who covet control through religious means. Solomon saw the Spirit destroyed on countless occasions, and while it was a gift to observe such destruction, he imagined why it was not difficult to work out, that to gain Spirit you had to have some in the first place, just as the ancient words said.

The unspoken is said, there is a sigh of relief, it had to happen, amen.

Opened Eyes

They didn’t see it coming, straight into the storm, the human storm, not the weather forecast, satellites, they should invent one for the human race that isn’t powered by money, feck it, when it’s a snow storm of cash, it blinds everyone, well, those things you could never do, suddenly your world brightens up, I can really be like that, how the eyes open up. Parents, their nightmares begin, it was fun in the beginning, now they realize that any sod can befriend their child, and there is nothing they seem to be able to do about it, apart from read of the despair elsewhere, those distracting headlines, as if they can recall them twenty four hours later, a distraction, while the nightmare returns, their child addicted to the machine, and if it isn’t that, well, the dealer can provide the rest.

Solomon sighed, it was the story of the wise bird, looking for love, a mate, someone to play around with. When in the zone, bird can do the dance, flash the feathers, do all sorts of things, to impress the mate, bingo, we got a connection. Then the nest building commences, the future is being created, and they need to supply the foundations, not any old tree, somewhere safe, they don’t want to be blown away. Then bit by bit, they gather, the new life arrives, the work continues. If the bird knows all this, and they all do, how come the human type never seems to get it right, always distracted, eyes wide shut as stanley would put it.

The old words come to mind, He sent the prophets, they partied while Noah built the ark, amen.