The Prophets of God…

The celebration of Easter, the pageants, the elaborate preparations, the days of ceremony, how does it compare with the image of the man, dragging his cross through the narrow streets, his body showing the whipping it had received, the crowds along the street, leaning in, trying to catch a glimpse of the great pretender, as they would have been told, the blasphemer, what was in their minds, a mixture of pity and justice intermingled, the Eyes of Jesus imploring, is there none of you that will help, wondering what happened to his followers, the miracles he performed, a broken man.

Then the sudden changes in the weather, the earthquakes, the darkening sky, the response of the Holy Father in Heaven, this is what happened to the Spirit he sent in the form of man, the story of the vineyard told in the cruelest form, the prophecy made true, for those who believed that Jesus came from God. How did God react, the savior was murdered, they had paid no heed to the warnings despite seeing the miraculous, only to find out later, that they had indeed murdered another prophet of God, just as Jesus had told them. Beware of them he said.

Would the next holders of the Spirit do it any differently, would they be guardians of the Spirit, or would they too, behave as those who crucified had done. The big question, the years pass, the vanity of men in power, the usurping of the seat of saint peter, and advent of Protestantism, as the behaviour of the popes undermined the words of Jesus, even making themselves infallible, something even Jesus never did, always referring to the Father, and being humble despite having the power to do anything. In this mix, the creation of secret societies, to prevent the so called authority that enforced their will with the sword, from ever repeating the great harm again. amen

2020 What will you do different?

Two old Spirits, they hover around a table, invisible to those dining outside. They hear the conversations going, they are listening to the reality of peoples lives, trying to decide on what direction the planet is going; they are after all connected to the Eternal being. How do change things without upsetting anybody, it’s the crunch question. The abyss moment has been by passed, there is another opportunity for the human race, the demon Spirit has lost its hold on many lives, the internal changes are heading in the right direction , for the first time in a century. Our two old Spirits have been roaming the world; they are looking for the preferred model upon which to base the regeneration of the race; it’s the moment of the eternal bounty.

Balance, says the younger of the two spirits, balance. The older Spirit moves over to a table, a young child is playing with the salt and pepper, while the Mother reads the daily paper, not too fussed. The child is making a little bit of a mess, nothing that a single wipe of a tissue can’t fix, no trouble. The elder Spirit smiles, is back with his co spirit.

You were saying, balance, wasn’t that it.

The younger Spirit sighs, you always say that, why is that?

What!

You pretend you don’t hear then you repeat the question, that’s so infuriating!

Sorry, old teacher habit, I told that years ago, you never listen.

We’ve been arguing like this for centuries, where did that get us?

Can’t you focus anymore says the elder Spirit?

There is so much hyper activity going on.

There is always a lot of brain wave activity going on, it’s the human pulse at work. Unknown to the human race, the energy that is created has to go somewhere, it’s the same as your sex drive, it’s all about energy.

So what would you change asks the Younger Spirit, back in the zone….

Don’t you think they have over done the me thing this last fifty years, you know, it’s all about me stuff, when that gets into your head, it’s hard to realize the compassion you need, to read the signs calmly, this over dramatization is doing the heads in.

I’m 100% with you on that one!

Tyrants Anonymous meets..

The organizer, a three year old child, a little boy with a big heart. He heard a voice. Get them together, and tell them what you heard. The boy told his pals, we got God on our side, lets organize a meeting. So the first meeting of T.A was organized. Being organized by children, it attracted a most unusual crowd, what was the interest. They stretched around the corner, and ran for miles, the bullies.

The children look at each other, how are we going to deal with this lot. A tramp appears out of nowhere, I know where they are heading, a reversal of fortune, he says. The first will be last, the last will be first. That’s what Jesus said!.

Who are you the little kids said. I’m the overseer he replied. The children nod, That’s God or one of his close friends. You never know who you meet these days. Do Tyrants eat popcorn asked a voice, a young girl with entreprenerial skills. Well, we might as all well feed them, give them treats, before they have to visit that other place.

The Big Match… Music by dire straits, read all about it, the sultans swing…

 

Everyone is up for the game, it is all over the papers, in the heads of everyone, there is a bounce in the step, it is on the edge of domination, the thoughts in many heads, all about the big match. It will last eighty minutes, and there will be rejoicing for some, misery for others, and by the evening time, the big game will be forgotten, replaced with another Big Match, talked up, when the frenzy will repeat itself, the addicts dream.

In the middle of the joy to come, you can let the hair down, your excess’s won’t be noticed, same as your lust in those poor parts, where women are cheap, but as you open your eyes, its’ on everyone’s mind. Why are they not at the beach like the rest of us, then you remember, the big game.

Twenty per cent, probably an awful lot more, with deep seated addictive minds, and no shortage of replacements; the children can’t do without the gadgets, the parents don’t have the patience. The urge for the next hit, once you have that feeling, the big match is the cover, well, we all want to get out of our lives, when it becomes a drug, well, you are in lots of company.

Solomon sighed, how the mood is so easily changed, could be a name dropped at an inappropriate time. As for the big match, can you put yourself back to the times of the early preachers; no doctors, no hospitals, but faith in many hearts, they are all believers in the Heavenly God, problem is, it has never been fully explained, it’s inside you. Then they hear about the Healer, the testimonies, he has the power of God in him, now, that is what you call, a big match, and it lasts for ever.

Solomon, is in bed, he is contemplating, asking for help, always. There is no reason to feel proud, no one makes it alone. The air whirls, the Spirit appears, darn, this is help from the Heavens, and it’s been happening ever since.

Troubled Boy

The Journey, the steps, the influences, the souls we encounter, the time we give to others, the success we can put down, it’s not going anywhere, like a book you can pick it up again, later. He sits in rehab, trying to get back to the person he was. Tears fall from his eyes, his heart is opening, the healing begins. He knows he is in the right place, the emotions don’t lie, there was so much he was hiding from, this troubled boy.

Solomon was reflecting on a life that ended too soon, if that is the phrase, a life taken early. Who understands the trauma we hold deep inside, those inner emotions we are afraid to share. Escape, anything to alter the mood, no one is to blame. How often we hear the words; she took her life, he was found hanging from a tree, he or she is dead, get on with it. Why we are afraid to dwell on such stuff; are we afraid to,  will we

do the same.

Greta Thunberg said it straight; they have a new remedy every week, but when we reflect upon it, we realize, we heard that last year as well.

Solomon knew the person, life gone, a statistic in a very number conscious world. You did not die in vain, and may your rest be a great surprise, but long after you are gone, the course of your life, still remains, nothing is in vain, amen.

Love Me Love me Love Me…

She sulks on the bed, waiting, she is young, he loves me, he loves me, she keeps on telling herself, as if repeating the words will make it real, he loves me, why doesn’t he love, she repeats the mantra, imitating her teacher of yoga from the year before, her former lover. He was big into the mantra, her former yoga teacher, but the lines crossed, lust and need overcame any love that was there, same way the addict needs a hit. I’ll be angry all day unless you give me he says, and she willingly provided, he loves me she said, that was then. Now she waits for her new man to love her even more. A product of the new world, where access to all things, adult or otherwise is easy, she believes as many do, that giving is what love does, it gives. In this mood she repeats her mantra, love me love me, when she has said it a thousand times, it will become permanent in his life, and she will have him. she is an odd woman, born of the modern world.

Solomon sighs, what a conundrum to be in. Say you are of God, as many are, how can you love the Great God unless you love what he or she created. Solomon was reflecting on the words of Jesus; one of the few in terms of global influence among all religions, his words still true to this day. How can you love me if you don’t love those that love me, how can you. Jealous love destroys, real love inspires.

Her relationship takes the familiar pattern; intensity, the burn out, the end. Love only wants the best for you, amen.

More Valued Than Gold…

Mavis is laughing, her gummy mouth is in the shape of an arc, She can’t believe her nephew’s story, he is not sure how to re act, I just got the sack and she is laughing. It’s the first time she heard something so silly, it brings her back to a time, they were part of a crowd, all girls, Elvis had come to town, boy she wished she’d legs worth looking at. God can do anything, she hears the voice, did you say something, Jimmy shakes his head, raises his eyebrows, the old dear is losing her head, it won’t be long now he sighs to himself. Mavis listens to the voice in her head, she can’t stop smiling, is it you she sighs, she recalls her deceased husband, jimmy assumes she is totally loosing it, well, something they have in common, both on the loosing side.

 

It’s mid day, the trolley girl comes in, Mavis your looking an awful lot better she says, Mavis smiles. He’s my nephew she says, her voice clear, and precise, not the usual slow hiss. Marion, the nurse, looks at Jimmy, you have a talent for waking the Spirit, maybe you have a talent for that she says. She is cute he thinks, he is nearly afraid to look her in the eye, they might ban him from the old folks home, he gets over the thought, Maybe that is not a bad idea he replies, I just lost my job…

Mavis hears the voice in her head, God Most High can do anything, you just have to believe.