Addict Central

Darn, the buzzer goes, the alarm clock buzzes, who could be at the door, she clambers out of bed, bumps into the chair, what time is it, she wipes her eyes, clearing, the buzzer goes again, I’m coming she shouts, she knows the voice; frantic words are muttered outside, you have a ten o’clock and you are behind, she fumbles with the lock. The door opens, she retreats to the kitchen, the kettle is set to work, her assistant is done up to the nines, darn, she looks better than me. She opens the press, where are the pain killers, she has a brain rush, you need to order more of these, she holds up the noisy container, two or three loose tablets left. Then she thinks to herself, the sleepers, they are getting low too

, and there could be an emergency, she dismisses the thought, the time she dropped the container on the bathroom floor, and how sticky they were when she tried to pick them up. What about the anxiety stuff she thinks. Her assistant says nothing for a few minutes, she has been through it before, addict central.

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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.

Understanding

She sits in front of her desk, her notes arranged to the side, the stuff she wants to express on the screen; in a full on world it’s not easy to be heard, and it’s more difficult when your a woman, she sighs, all she wants is understanding, someone to say to her, you are not mad, there is nothing wrong with you, you are fine. A child comes in from school, has some art work in his school satchel, is keen to show it to his closest; this is what I done, it’s all I want to say, understand me.

She pushes the chair with her hands, she lost the use of her legs in a stupid accident, and worse, it was preventable, a darn bug she collected. She sighs, that creep inside her, upsetting her life, how dare it. But as sure as the disease came it can be overcome. Every day she reaches out to others, remains strong inside, her Spirit is what drives her, gives her understanding. Yes, she has her moments too, and she has a lecture prepared for her heavenly encounter, you have been warned she says to herself; you cut off a layer of understanding she says, as if talking to God herself.

He checks the schedule, he is a busy man, has a family, company duties and hobbies. Occasionally he lectures others. He goes through the calendar for the month, smiles, few off times, great he says to himself, no gaps in the CV for this month.

Helen Keller Day

Happy Birthday Helen, it’s been awhile but the memory lives on, the deaf blind are not alone anymore, your name summons the help, it is how we can best remember her. They gather at the funeral, they have tears in their eyes, we will never forget you tears, then they forget you. Helen, you were a prophet, you changed the way many see disabilities, same way the earlier prophets aroused Interest in God, reminding them. We have gone astray, the light comes, then the memories return, we have another destiny, it’s greater than this world, Helen Keller, you remind us, thanks.

Lying in the bed, she is safe, the dark has no fear, she is on the same level, he holds her, she dreams, her troubles don’t exist when she is safe in his arms. Solomon sighed, that is what it is like, when in the presence of God, the presence of Love kills all fears. Then the day comes, and the reminders are there, what she would give to be safe in his arms. Solomon sighed, some names makes us feel good, Helen Keller does.

Preaching Man

Has them in the palm of his hands, his face scans the audience, senses the wonder, must choose his words carefully, wants to frighten them not embalm them. Power, what a thrill, they listen to the words, you mention the name Jesus, it’s almost a magnet, his words still stick 2,000 odd years later, Meanwhile the Preacher, he views his meal ticket before him, they come to him for advice, it’s beyond comprehension, they listen to me, he finishes the sermon with some fear filling words, fear only God he says. The adrenaline levels are up, he feels it the way a drug addict does. In the audience a real Prophet is listening, why do they have to use fear all the time, preaching man, it is so much simpler.  The Spirit rises on the basis of good deeds, and the Holy Spirit lives inside you, you just need space and an honest heart. The Preaching man has none of that, too addicted to control.

Solomon sighed, too much syrup in the diet turns you into a diabetic, you need to hear the truth, same as the words have to be from the Heart. Solomon wondered, why some made complex what is so simple to understand, amen.

My Eyes

Damn advertising Guru, could sell a g-string to your ninety year old aunt, and tell her it was comfortable, get you to forget yourself for a while, the blurb, you look great in that, even if you could not see, darn advertising guru, as for those psycho dudes, the head experts, is there a ship I could borrow, the mid Atlantic would be a good place to bring them for a Holiday, moor them off shore with their off shore accounts, a few strong anchors, away from everyone where they can’t do anymore harm. Blast sighed Solomon, he listened to the news, the crocodile tears, the affect of pornography on happiness, relationships, and children of course, the darn advertising Guru, what medication was he on, vitamin “M” of course like so many. Too darn busy getting their thrills to wonder about the affect it was having on others. Solomon encountered the “Spirit” the early apostles enjoyed, and when it is real, you don’t have to excuse your thoughts. So many eyes squinting over their small screens, wondering, is this love what we are seeing, cause they seen to be doing nothing else.

My eyes cried God, what are they doing to the children of the world. Solomon recalled the words of Jesus, God is inside you, the Spirit, it’s not over there, it’s inside you. Why pollute the eyes of God you wonder, unless you intended in murdering the Spirit within. Holidays are occasions, not every day experiences. One of those moments, he saw the expression on the faces, he prayed, there was a sense of disappointment. He listened to the words, the bread and the fish, the division of food, the Spread of the Spirit, well being, it was a lesson, simple as that, you share and it gets better for everyone, Amen.

Joan of Arc

She passed on, this day in fact, the year 1431, burnt at the stake, she heard the voice of God, was filled with the Spirit, the same power that gives the swallow a lift, fly, the bird flies, and before her, as said all those years ago, by Jesus Christ, you murdered the prophets of God, and then built tombs to them and venerated them afterwards, the words of ancient scripture, come through, while the prophets are a tide that never fails to arrive, washing away the stone of stubborness, planted in the souls of men, who envied power and control. But the tide of Prophets comes and comes again, same as those warriors facing the machine guns with only swords in their hands. Is this the reason we are given examples of huge human loss, as the human tide tries to overcome the demon, amen. Solomon sighed, it is one way of viewing the journey, and the ever lasting eternal gift that is waiting, when the walls are breached and torn down. The souls mount up, the Body of Christ strengthens, layer after layer, until they fill the body of Man, thereby allowing the return of God’s Holy Spirit to earth. Solomon smiled, yeah, we have come to that moment, thank you Joan of Arc, and all those you inspired, amen.

Ironic really, those that tried to control the earth now have to clean up the mess they created, hurry up boys!