Addiction

Can’t fill the gap inside, it’s impossible, can’t, I am going to throw up, she is on her feet and moving, not too bad he smiles, geeing up her Spirits. She is seriously wobbly, will collapse at the first obstacle, he holds her arm, he is leading her to the toilet. Spittle at the edge of the mouth, her hair once lush, has thinned out, he waits outside the door, making gestures to himself, this too will pass. Alcohol addiction, what a curse. He listens while she washes up, readies the energy, she will require his time for a few days, in order to get over the worst of it. The nerves will settle, it’s just the encouragement she needs at the start.

The bathroom door opens, there is a smile on her face, the same smile you would imagine on a small baby, after taking it’s first steps, i did it I did it, you sure did he sighed, how easy was that, a little effort, a smile on a face. She makes it back to the bedroom, her glass of water is half full, she will want a refill. A loud sigh, she is between the covers, food he asks, she shakes her head, I will get you a glass of water instead. He leaves the room, ventures to the kitchen, takes a deep breath, slogans come to mind, he makes an effort to ignore them, refills the glass, heads back up the stairs. She is sleeping, day one over he sighs, while leaving the glass on the bedside locker.

With a little help from you friends sighed Solomon, and it’s easy to overcome, an addiction.

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Her Freedom, where she asks!

The freedom she is allowed, there is so much so see, it is as if she has been given her sight back,  as well as her dreams,  a far cry from the desert she had once lived. She still remembers the smell of the goats, dung burning in the fire, and the drought. Rescued, she was one of the luckier ones, apart from what they did to her down there, she shakes with fear every time the memory hits, who were these men.

In the Name of God and the prophet they said, he must have been a butcher then, who would do that, only someone cruel and resentful. In the bright light, she has found a new home, among the so called infidels, and she has never been happier. Being able to walk along the street, say hello without having to worry. The fear they sowed into so many hearts, it was not God they worshiped, it was something else.

Her voice can listen to the new sounds, her heart dreams, she is not afraid of her thoughts, she can do things she never did before, and her way of life, so much better as well. Her sisters still live there, her dream is to free them too. The fear they encountered when a stranger came to visit, the fear of opening your mouth, the fear of looking into the eyes of someone, the dreading, the death of the Spirit inside. The books they wrote, were not close to the truth, more an exercise in entertainment, they wear black all the time.

Solomon was putting words on an ugly truth, how Spirit was strangled to death in many hearts, voices squashed, the same way, Spirit was sucked out of so many lives, by the religiously chaste; if it was their intention to appeal to God, it was more an appeal to demons instead, did they not understand how to love!

He was in the middle of a war zone, a peace maker of sorts. The religious of his own family, doing their utmost to curb the loving spirit, based of course, on the intellectual thinking of the religious of course, who daily put mill stones around the necks of so many. There only agenda, was to curtail those that did not agree with them, nothing more. And they had allies, many of them. He was writing it to remind himself, they were not very Godly in mind whatsoever, it was an organisational thing with them, nothing more, and reverence for God Most High was far from their actions.

In the meantime, his Friends from the east were being urged to act, in wisdom. The amount of annoying behaviour that can be tolerated has reached its limit, in the face of divine blessings, and He was calling on all the Holy Prophets, to petition God Most High, as there was not much more that could be tolerated. His enjoyment of Spirit, had been curtailed due to their lack of giving while they spied, and harm had accrued on so many occasions, unnecessarily so, and he found this totally unforgivable, so he was sending it up, along with the plight of all the love trapped in so many hearts, on account of their inactions. His word was online, his efforts were known, they had one concern, to perpetuate the past, nothing had changed in fact, amen.

 

They ought to have been removed, amen. Solomon makes his petition in the Name of Jesus Christ, prayers and petitions made in his name are heard in the Heavens above, the greatest truth of all, amen, when from the heart that loves. He saw so many signs too, ask in the Holy Name, it’s exactly what he’d done.

The young women trapped in the desert, their voices and pleas were being heard… the story continues…..

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.

wisdom on Friday …. a re blog

Originally posted on Higher Density Blog: ELDER .Thanks to https://outofthisworldx.wordpress.com/2018/05/03/hopi-it-is-now/ Thank you to Michelle A * Message from Hopi Elders You have been telling the people that this is the Eleventh Hour, Now you must go back and tell the people that this is the Hour. And there are things to be considered… Where are…

via HOPI NATION – IT IS NOW – 5-3-18 – by OUT OF THIS WORLDX — dreamweaver333

Artists Artists Artists.. United?

He has something to say, you should listen to him, she has a new voice, listen, artists, the small child has words he wants to say, he’s a child no one listens, why. Artists, the great global consciousness, well that was the way it was supposed to be, the collective thoughts contained in their works, be it sculpting, writing poetry, long stories, canvas, all filled with need, their heads and the hearts, pouring into the world their thoughts; man, I wanted to hear those words, they mean something, artists, and what happens, or more important, what is it that this all means. Consciousness, awareness, the need to show, the necessity to open hearts to new pathways.

What in affect happens; down through the centuries, anyone who harboured thoughts that conflicted with the dogma of the ruling class of the day, usually thwarted, unless they had the patronage of the same people, and when some made a break through, difficulty is what they found, resentment caused, labels applied, unwell, not one of us and so on, unless the general populace loved them and defended them.

Solomon was reflecting, there were so many issues, so many you’d be lost in the haze. He read about the difficulties the traditional sources of comfort were having; loss of personnel, message not being absorbed, loss of connection, and so on. In relation to divine enthusiasm, if you based your “art” or “vocation in life”, on the connection overhead (Solomon encountered Holy Spirit, the real one, was saved a few times), a power that hit the peaks at the time of Jesus, you would assume you’d hang onto the connection, not by cheating, but by incorporating the principles in your life. If talent dries up, maybe it’s time for a career change, rather than go fishing for others talents, those less organised as they say; otherwise their divine connection blurs then dies.

Solomon was comparing the times of Jesus Christ, the threats that he had to overcome, the weakness of the believers in the face of miracles, and the regular threat, same today as then, of the already organised machine that controls so many lives. At a time when there has been so many signs, and they are on the way, everyday in fact, the danger of speaking up, saying it as it needs to be said, simply, be brave.

Artists, avenues for thoughts to disperse; there has never been a more needy time for them. Your job won’t matter if the toxic dump leaks into your water supply; and the environment for your children won’t change into positive territory, until you make the effort to improve things; leaving it to your leadership, is the same as waiting for Godot.

Endurance and Love

 

Start at the end, she lies on the bed, holds a memory of him in her hands, a chain. each time she touches it she feels his strength. To this day she mourns for him, it was the heart she admired, it was her spirit he cherished. Solomon was remarking on the strength of love, and what it could achieve. The times they had endured; he was walking through the remnants of the human graveyard, once a city, it was now a memorial. He saw the thin figures scattered about, he had the photo’s on the wall to remind him, this actually happened; the gas chambers, the false teeth, the bones, the crematoriums. What proof did you need; what he saw devastated the human heart, a reminder what it could do, when it all went wrong.

The number is a tattoo on her arm, her memory, their memory. It was a difficult time, but their love endured; fifty years later he still makes her smiles; She tells her visitors; he always shared his ration with me, but he was a man when he died a young boy, amen.

There are those Dear Father in Heaven, of extreme views, trying in work their way into he thoughts and minds of all who are good, trying to sell them fear, pass on all that is wrong. remind them

for ever more, that their schemes will only fall on those that attempt to harm and no one else, amen.

Me

He loves himself so much he puts himself on answerphone and listens to himself, while imposing a reality on himself that is so far removed from reality to make it real, well, they say he is crazy, how about you. The sound of his own voice soothes, so he records himself all day, then late at night he replays the whole thing again. Amazingly, people donate half a weekly wage packet to hear him sing, and they do it regularly, who am I?

It was late after Christmas dinner, they had been playing charades for over an hour, and it was beginning to get to much, even for, Me. Blame the turkey me sighed, there was something strange about it. Strange, birds eat creepy crawlies, we eat birds, strange that we don’t like creepy crawlies. Solomon sighed, he was doing the thinking. Imagine it, all those angry demons, imagine all those factory reared birds, imagine the match of all matches, matching demon spirits with those about to be decapitated for our Christmas dinner, imagine that. Disposal was a problem, even in the time of Jesus, amen.