Pure Rhythm

The stream of wisdom, a garden grows, reacts to sunshine, is automatic, it grows, sun, rain, moon, stars, the time of year, the cold, the frost, the fourseasons, the days go on for ever, add in the only additive that has a mind of it’s own, the image of man, and the great rhythm is altered. Imagine it, paradise in it’s early form, the animals, birds, everything as it should be, then the actions of the man and woman, it’s all yours says God, but I ask you not to eat from that tree, it has a special function. The enquiring child, the stubborn mind, out of sight, satiated, well it’s a dare almost, love is already toxic, it has to be shared, then the descent, till we get back to the basics, and try it again. It’s easy upset the rhythm.

In the world there were mind gamers; those who played with the minds, it was one time, a love game, then it becomes twisted, then it becomes corporation games, then the changes we would rather not think about. He imagines the garden, the addition of the chemical fertiliser, the death of the small insect, the distress of the bee, and how what once was beautiful, was slowly destroyed. Having encountered demonic minds, who play with minds, Solomon was sending up a prayer to his Heavenly Father, curb their intincts and plans, and let their schemes fall on top them. Enough words, that should do the trick, amen.

Prayers said in the Name of Jesus, the Holy One, are heard in the heavens above. Solomon had seen it so often, it was as if he was watching Jesus do it live, amen.

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Don’t Blame Donald….

God works in strange ways, and when we have lost our way, he introduces new themes, new leaders, new thinking, it’s as if we have become blind to our ways, it’s not personal, it’s just that we became too casual, that’s all. So Donald acts like a spoiled child, he digs his heels in, doesn’t listen, is politically incorrect, is not worried what others think, and acts as if he is willing to dump everything, unless he gets what he wants.

If you ask me, he is portraying the actions of all of us, the bias, the favorite, the likes dislikes, the child who hears only one way, and does not want to listen anymore. Reflecting a troubled world, Donald does it well, he doesn’t depend on being liked, so we have troubles understanding him, take the example of the fish in the sea, getting more acidic by the hour, children under assault online, the average habit of the average human, not all that giving, shouting aloud what others want to hear, while in private, something else. It’s time to end the hypocrisy, that’s all. The carpet of human failings has become bigger than mount Everest, and those rose tinted glasses can’t save us, it’s time to ready up, change.

Solomon was reading about the foibles of Donald, on his way to put right, the North Korean problem, like no one else. His counterpart, is up for the change, and for the first time in decades, peace is on the cards for the Korean Peninsula, what no other leader in modern times, was willing to delve into, talking up the fear, is what they all did. If the world is going to heal itself, something new is required, may Donald and the Rocket man show the world, that no one is beyond redemption. In three years time, we might all be playing Golf there, unthinkable almost, but not beyond possibility, amen.

Stop The Madness

Stop the war stop the war there is horror everywhere it’s why you must stop the war,

It’s being fought across the globe and the fields are being bloodied every day,

From the minds of the vulnerable to the innocence being undermined readily,

This War is not about blood and old battlefields it’ the war for the soul

everywhere,

 

Attack and attack they are coming again the constant pressure on the very young

The anxiety of parents the concerned, the lack of assistance of those supposed to care,

Efforts to appease and do nothing hoping the problems will just float away,

New neighborhood a new war front the pressure on everyone total and relentless

 

Stop the war stop the war the constant cry from so many hearts out there,

Stop the war stop the war, what is all the shouting it’s doing that’s needed everywhere,

Wake up stop the talk stop the complaining, if your doing nothing get out of there

It’s only the spiritual warriors who have the skills, the support of divine destiny too

 

The settled thinkers happy with them selves living in their cocoons far away,

Waiting to grab the opportunity constant in their approach and their lack of doing

They watch from the ditch, waiting for the win choosing the winners whatever

No moral compass or integrity their fate will be decided by their inaction

everywhere

 

Stop the war stop the war stop why can’t you see it on every tired and worn face

Stop the war stop the war can’t you see the need to get out there and involved

What are you waiting for, for the battle to end and then decide your fate therein

Or

are you going to stand out for love and battle with the lord and his merry men?

Just Do it, the signs were in the sky, repeating repeating, amen. Blessed be God, for ever

.

The Bridge Builder

It’s difficult agreeing, the rhetoric is correct, it’s the right thing to do, the argument makes sense, it only takes one final step, saying it. The time gets near, the fear rises, the hidden truth, those things you are hiding, come to the surface, the way all truth does. As they listen, the words make impact, where did it come from. From all the groups, the heads look down, he mentions the treatment of women, across all the divides, it’s the one cause they have all failed in, equality and respect. In our faults we find a common cause, so where is the bridge builder, who is going to patch the quilt, stick it back together again.

As the groups retreat to discuss the issue, the old arguments come to the fore. He said that Men and Women were equal. There were prophets too, who warned, that men would never be satisfied with one. Some try to address the issue, those that can’t forgive, gladly remind others of their so called faults, hatred has far too many friends.

Solomon was surmising, the signs were coming faster than snow in a blizzard. It was time to encourage all those making the effort for change, rather than reminding them of their faults. In parts of the world, it was dangerous, to even think change. So Solomon prayed, Help them lord, and curb the extremism that is a poison everywhere. Building bridges, he smiled at his friend, he didn’t say much, but he listened. Perhaps he was a King.

Amen.

Doing in the Head…

snake oil salesman, comes to town, opens the back of his truck, this will cure you he howls, while those seeking hope gather round. $2  a bottle, the folks stick out the hand. They are doing their heads in. Jesus sighs, did they ever do anything simple. They put so much effort into getting ready for the ritual, they lost out on what it all means. He is listening to it, so are those who turned away, its simple, you don’t need all that.

Meat, days, washing, foods, he throws his head into the air, why are they making what is so simple complicated; it’s the same as giving a lawyer access to your thoughts, sooner or later they will find some fault and then the arguing and division will come.

He warned the pharisee’s, why do you burden the people, it’s simple. So in order to help, he sits down and tells them the story of the good Samaritan, who were not popular to others in the day. They listen; this dude can call down thunderstorms and miracles, don’t upset him, they listen; How you love is how you treat total strangers, that is who you really are, not just how you treat your friends.

Food on Friday, meat, washing hands, ritual cleaning, circumcision, none of it matters, no matter who who are, if you don’t fully love. The barriers to entry, that religions had created, needed to be revised, it was that simple, unless it was a cult they were aiming to achieve, amen.

Old Man Reading…

Sits in the same chair, been doing it for years, he’s reading that old book. They pass him, the grandchildren, they don’t want to engage with him, he’ll ask questions, he is boring, can’t run or walk, just an old man reading a very old book. They go out on the street, leaving the old man to the book.

A year later they are back in the house, the old man is still reading the book, picking through the threads, adding bits to the wisdom he has been pooling. They shrug, I told you, all he does is read that book, no one will believe it, he just reads it over. Across the street a painter works a mural.

Years later they are back at the house, he must be nearly a hundred, there, he is still reading that book, his eyes, how can he keep it up, they shrug, go out side, they catch up with old school friends, they are at university now, across the street they notice, Jesus, what a beautiful mural they say.

He struggles on his back, the temple is being repainted, the light is poor but there is day light left, he wants to finish it before his vacation, he adds a few strokes, eases back, takes a second look, the shade of blue is perfect, her eyes mirror the blue in her garment, giving it the divine affect.

They went out in pursuit of what was only going to last a moment, well, once consumed it’s gone, while what the old man pursued, was what was going to last for ever. Nice and easy does it every time. Solomon sighed, what’s the rush, time is plentiful, what were you going to fill it with, was what mattered, amen.

It Wasn’t Us?

Impact, the influence we have on the lives of others, the red carpet is prepared so are the plaudits, the camera’s flash, smile, we are great, wow factor, then to be adored once inside the door, bling pretty clean new, the Kings and Queens of the earth, one day Solomon imagined, they would all have to account for their work.

Anger, a close up, the look in the eyes, the language, so grown up, even if meant for very young ears, well we, in a world that was over booked in terms of violence, those reading the script had a role in the matter too. Solomon watched a documentary, and it wasn’t pretty, gruesome, dark, very human and frightening.

The plans to murder, the old resentment never far from the top, Solomon listened, as locals and militia, joined in the murder of so many Jewish People, neighbors and work colleagues, quickly joining in the slaughter of millions, using the old hatred, and the false propaganda to justify their actions, it wasn’t us.

The child is five, maybe six, has to live in a difficult environment, has no place to turn, is emotionally committed, love is what we are born to, it’s the reason for being for all of us, getting along. Exposed to violence and those gadgets, he finds solace in the game that stops him thinking about, it’s how so many addictions are born.

It wasn’t us, what excuse was that, if you are aware of what is happening before your very eyes. Don’t mention hunger, amen. Imagine, God Most High is real.