Wouldn’t it be so cool….

the year is 2017, the hopes of divine help rise, signs in the sky, upheaval in the old seats of power, change and challenge, old prophesy comes through, Ezra and more, blessings being poured out, and the Spirit of God gets stronger as faith rises. In the corner, extremists with serious business interests scent opportunity, they plan to harm people, privately they are trying to encourage misguided terrorists to act, do their bidding for them, upset the masses, get them to run to us for cover. Imagine it, God Most High gets word of the extremists true intentions, and turns their plans in on them. While in a church a group of ill people gather for a healing and a blessing, and when they get home, they find they are getting cured, would it not be cool. Imagine the affects the one event would have on the entire world, breath taking, amen.

collective love

the word is a power tool, and love is the most powerful force there is, it’s also the hand of God, make it stronger, by pouring all your best thoughts into the world, forget your personal bias by the way, you actually help the collective love to strengthen, you empower the angels, and open channels of hope everywhere. So pump the universe with all that is good, and watch the world around you flourish, its’ that simple, amen. pass the message on.

Moses Blues Part Two

Society has created a series of loopholes and excuses and future excuses to justify all that is unwell with the rearing of children, it’s the facts, sorry to offend thee. We are more interested in what other nations are doing, always pointing the finger, it would be worse if they lived over there, that’s the same as telling the child in the bad neighbourhood he’d have more comfort living in Beverly Hills. The madness of it all will bring about the downfall of society, as God Most High has warned, and if you are a suffering child, an enslaved woman, a hungry mother with children to feed, a father without work, a truth chaser, it wont happen soon enough. This is the reality of the times we live in, all is changing, and it’s happening faster than anyone could have imagined. Real change that is meaningful only happens from the top down, even if the pressure from the bottom is what forces the volcanic change required. Laugh if you want, the world won’t change because of one mans ideas, well, the world was created simply, can be extinguished as simply too, no pun intended, just trying to be persuasive as regards the power within us all, the first step of a child, the first time a lawyer tells the entire story, the first time a man is honest with his wife, there is always a first time. When you lie on the bed and it’s near the end, you’ll have so many thoughts you’ll never share and wished you did. Is it possible to shut off the flow of love, it seems it is for many, maybe we should try a little harder, amen.

The Boss

lends you a soul, a way to do good, sends you the prophets, to remind you that all of you, are a gift, and talents is as well, amen. Finding a meaning, do good, clean up the act, your soul is not yours, neither is love, it’s yours to farm that’s all, and if you do a good job, as the boss said, you’ll be given more, amen.

Domestic Bliss

She runs to the shelter, there is no space, she goes home again gets her faced pushed in, no resources available to tend to her needs, while 25 trillion rests off shore, the story goes on, the children witness the slaughter, their minds forever spoiled, this is love the little boy thinks, does the same when the passions run dry, many years later it’s repeated. Solomon was asking, the emotional words that pour out, the tears in the eyes, the TV cameras and the lies, a tissue, a wipe and they are forgotten, till the next opportunity arrives. The shelter cost so little to run, volunteers mostly, and help from the government, well, when families break up the economy thrives, why put an end to such a thing, it will cost us jobs as well. Solomon sighed, they could have purchased the opium crop in afghanistan for a tiny fraction of the security budget allocated, cost jobs there too if they ever did something about it. Send them a message dear Father. Solomon read the warnings, the time was now, put an end to the extremists and let families live again.

Meanwhile, so many talent given souls fill the off shore hideaway with their spoils, while the small child cowers in the corner, his little hands over his eyes, while Dad beats mammy to a pulp, what a legacy to leave given the talent freely received, amen.

The Lost Princess

It’s a beautiful day, the days events point that way, everyone is dressed to the nines, and that means there is going to be a party, a celebration. She peers out the window, there is an emptiness inside, the heart cannot lie no matter how much we pretend, the distractions of wealth and fame can’t fill the void inside. She appears beautiful, she is, but feels dirty inside, the heart has not been nourished for a long time. You will get over it her father says, everyone does. In an hour, her father will be with his mistress, and in the space of an hour will get his immediate thrills, forget about it, till the next fix is required.

Solomon sighed, they use, they abuse, they provide all sorts of poisons, it’s the way, or the way they have been

conditioned to think. The males just find the fix easier, the vulnerable young women they meet, and others they think they can use. Solomon called them demons. How the princess would swap it all for inner happiness, but wasn’t that the message of Jesus, there is another way. He was mocked regularly for stating his faith, for stating that Love was the way to the Father. But Jesus said the very same, he was in good company. The night he was visited by Holy Spirit changed the world, it was the proverbial landline to God, stay in the zone and be amazed, he is every single day, amen.

Tight Squeeze

maybe, she twirls, the dress does not look right, the mirror is full length, she stands there, head left head right, head up head down, doesn’t feel right, damn, she marches to the bedroom, a bundle of clothes on the bed, she reaches into the press, what now she sighs, four to choose from, she’s a size eight, wants to be a seven, grabs the navy jump suit, quickly changes, returns to the mirror, half an hour later, she makes up her mind. A pout of the lips, cool she smiles, on her way to an awards ceremony, wants to look her best. Whats the hurry, in traffic, taxi driver watches her reaction in the mirror, hyped up chick or what, she is hopping, can’t this bus go faster, is getting nervous, the delay is killing her.  what’s the rush!.

famine chick, in her small tent, the aid convoy hasn’t arrived yet, was promised a week ago, will it hurry up, her child is cramping with the hunger, the water milk diet not sustaining enough. She doesn’t mind, it’s her child she worries about.

I’d like to announce the winner of the new female singer of the year, and the winner is, she bursts in the door, the audience turns around, the noise she makes would scatter a flock of birds. her day is made, she arrived on the stroke of recognition, the fuss with the make up and stuff worth the wait.

She pulls her hair, ringlets, cutie, she fawns for the audience, opens her mouth the way all the bright teeth people do, pauses. i would like to dedicate my award to the ..

The child is crying, she is fraught with anxiety, she holds the baby, one eye on the door, a miracle she pleads, how can i stop the suffering of my little child. She shakes the baby, talking to the wee one all the time, she’d feed him from her breast, but they are hard and tight, no milk in there, she needs to feed to provide for the young one.

i’d like to thank my agent, and my family for getting me this far, without them i would have got nowhere.  She bursts out crying, the emotions too much, success has come at last.

Without food there was nothing she could do. The dead bundle is cold, she sits on the floor, wailing.

Anyone for canapes!