Martin Luther king, jimmy Hendrix, Joan of arc, hosts
Of others, Johnny cash, Michael Jackson,
the female martyrs, the men who went over the top,
The fields of Vietnam, the countries destroyed,
The brave spitfire pilots, the Indian tribes, the lost
Wisdom, the Inca’s, the few who survived,
the three Wise men, the prophets of old,
the mothers who struggle, many never had a chance,
the conceit of The powerful, the arrogance of their supporters,
Merry go round mentality, the road that never ends,
Celtic warriors of old, the truly regal beings, che
Guevara, a doctor with a heart, never gave Up,
the list goes on its endless, many millions sacrificed,
for something Worth waiting for, hoping defiant certain,
the current Conundrum, the indifferent classes,
women Fire constantly, the situation is untenable,
seeds of a current generation wither, and now we have
Raised the ire of God, and it’s understandable,
Children pouring their fears into the universe, the cries
Of the hopeless, it’s overwhelming, a cosmetic change,
Not really enough, young girl tied to a bed,
visited all Day, till there is nothing left,
caste inside she is dead, always been this way,
the poor will be poor, nothing that can be done,
the apathy of The talent, obviously God Most High,
well, assumes otherwise, being The one who plied us,
with gifts, games or no games,
For many it’s gone the wrong way far too long,
Change of direction, not a suggestion, well, the
Master is back as they say, and thinks otherwise,
Perhaps there are those who live Babylon wise,
What interest had they in love, don’t loot, yeah,
Just a few ideas to hurry you all along, amen.
Now the God of patience and consolation grant you to be like-minded one toward another, according to Christ Jesus. [Rom 15:5 WEB] Let patience have her perfect work. [Jas 1:4 WEB] ~~~~~~ Make me patient, kind, and gentle, Day by day; Teach me how to live more nearly As I pray. ~ SHARPE’S MAGAZINE ~ […]
He went to reach for his toothbrush, felt a brush against his leg, two sleepy eyes look up at him, Solomon smiled, inside he thought to himself, I hoped you would stay in bed, even an hour would have been great, that plan is gone, he continues to wash his teeth instead. Little hand reaches for his, Solomon smears it with paste, watches while the child imitates his moves, his small eyes watching how he moved the brush across his mouth, half laughing, but seriously laughing, glad to have a role model, one he
could argue with, one he could ask, one he was not afraid of. Stern words were never spoken, just a cast of the eyes and a frown did the trick every time. The routine is finished, the time for the breakfast, Solomon does the big friend thing, sits down and eats with the small boy. Slurp after slurp, the watchfulness of the young master, imitating the teacher, a wise young child.
How Children imitate it all; and how those charged with responsibilities tried to blame the individual for their failures. Later; He hears the cot move, the time is early morning, Solomon sighed; so this is what it’s like to be a mother, your children take your attention and time. The stuff Solomon learned from the young master, amen.
marriage, they were drinking in a downtown bar, an early house. Seven in the morning, the heads were drowsy, the hangover affect, the brain slow to engage, the words just a mutter, a sigh, a fart, what a life.
“Life is a marriage!”
What do you Mean jack?
Well, the day your born your into it, and the day you die you dissolve it, isn’t that a marriage. His friends looked at him, maybe that was it. Divorce was akin to a breakdown, a RETREAT. They shake their heads, his companions. You got it wrong they say. Marriage is a relationship bond, the promise to hang together not alone on the journey. When we get carried away, children arrive and we settle down.
The same way life is a marriage, the older you get, the more becalmed you become.
Nerves, a shake of the hand, the opening of the exhibition, will there be anyone around. She read the blurb, how they extol the works of those long gone, who didn’t make a penny from it, yet they praise them all around, for the cost of buying the art today. The Gallery girl has no such illusions; she has heard all the talk, knows a certain truth, nobody does it for cash, they do it to show off the talent, a form of Gift, amen.
In war truth suffers first, the latest blockbuster about the Vietnam war, another example. Then it’s the artists, did the Dixie Chicks…
Dixie chicks really complain about the war in the Middle east, a million dead and injured many years later, on account of the rush to the front, like all artists, those with minds of their own, they offer a truth of their own.
How will God judge the exhibition, she is a believing gal; her talent is obvious, a gift. Will he wonder from exhibit to exhibit, or just look at the price tag and decide. Imagine it, God and the price we put on everything, in order to justify doing something about it; Gallery Girl Hurry up, there is an opening there for you too.