The Grand Architect

 

 

If there was a non-religious God then I guess this would be the closest I would be pushed towards any kind of rational thought towards any deity. If I were to believe anything it would be that he is scowling and wondering when it will go right.

Why am I now discussing this well two things, firstly two Jehovah Witness’s came to the door the other day. Very pleasant people but I just won’t believe as they do neither will I convert to their thinking. Secondly such an event always gets me thinking especially when they make statements like

“Do you know what your purpose in life is?” This is a statement that they will probably not entirely know themselves, so what is the point in asking?

What is my purpose in life – well mostly I think it is to pass my DNA on and preserve the species as is the way of life on this planet for all species, Why should I believe my life to be any more important than a hive of bee’s or a set of badgers. The biggest difference is my ability to think freely. Something we would say is a basic human right and privilege.

I do however believe in Jesus but let me explain I believe him to be an historic figure A MAN who was preoccupied with one thing, that was the coming of the Kingdom of Heaven to this world. Clearly an event that never happened . It was meant to happen in his life time and must have been a bitter shock to discover that it would not. But some will say but there will be a second coming but again I do not think so, the church of the coming of heaven as it were, was given over to what is claimed to be Jesus brother James.

Needless to say I try not to get into any arguments with Jehovah Witness’s I have a respect that they as well as any have a strong faith that I just do not recognise in myself. But if one tries to convert me it is often then I will get quite vocal with my own personal views, one that believe is that solutions  are being wrapped around problems in the hope that they will fit. In this way I am closer to Freemasonry than any religious group, but I think Freemasons try to keep personal religious views to themselves and promote a more spiritual Grand Architect.

I will undoubtedly have more to say on this as I do a little research for my story of John Rutter who walks in to a world where it all changed on October 13^th 1307, an event where the French royal family was rounded up instead, in a parallel paradoxical history of an this alternative world.

Why Today I am depressed with Freshly Pressed

Today I woke up fine I mean I am in a fairly good mood
and even the enormity of moving from England to Wales taken aside
I feel a little hard done by, by the crew that pick all the Freshly pressed content
so let me state it that I consider myself a half decent poet and spend a lot of time writing and posting the best poems I can create. The same as any other blogger, and in the words of the beetles ” Christ you know it ain’t easy, you know how hard it can be ”

I just don’t think we poets are getting a fair shot at this WordPress highlighting facility and I am sure it not maliciously intentional but hey I work as hard as any blogger for the quality of my posts
and I am dyslexic which means occasionally I don’t get the spelling right which is its own cross to bear bare.

so come on WordPress give us Poets more of a chance, though I will admit poetry has been in a little bit of an identity crisis for so long now. More people seem to write than actually read poetry, But when it came to writing it was once at the top of the literate chain. I will admit it is not everyone’s bag of reading but for some of us it is the highest most interesting form of reading we like to do. Sure we all love Le Clown, Speaker 7 and Fear No Weebles who’s humor has us hurting and crying with laughter and for sure we all love fact based blogs that teach us something useful.

But where O’ where is the poetry why so few entries get freshly pressed glory and as I press the older button again and a second time after no poetry no high form or free verse to be seen, not even a well written Haiku – it is very depressing and disappointing and sure I did write a short witty poem on my other blog but so disappointed am I that I thought I would expand my thoughts

Freshly Pressed

You did not have any poetry today
and I cannot tell you in any other way
my disappointment nor my diplomacy
is stretched in a view that the fallacy
That a condensed form of writing
with the urge of many fighting
for some good verse rhyme with reason
after all this is the Christmas season

So come on freshly pressed give us more chance
to be the ones doing the freshly pressed dance

It is about time we poets got a fairer shot as being FP’d as a way of promoting our efforts to keep this poetry beast alive and kicking in the face of the barrage of popular media like the TV and DVD entertainment, surely this is not an unreasonable request just a minor morning irritation so come on WordPress- Freshly Pressed Crew give us a chance

in light of crimbo carols

in light of crimbo carols here is a song U really have to hate

 

and the hateful word unleashed

 

Rubber ball, I come bouncin’ back to you,
rubber ball, I come bouncin’ back to you
hoo-ah-ooh-ooh.

I’m like a – rubber ball, baby that’s all
that I am to you (bouncy, bouncy) (bouncy, bouncy)
Just a rubber ball ‘cuz you think you
can be true to two (bouncy, bouncy) (bouncy, bouncy).
You bounce my heart around (You don’t even put her down)
And like a rubber ball, I come bouncin’ back to you
rubber ball, I come bouncin’ back to you.

If you – stretch my love ’til it’s thin enough to tear
I’ll just stretch my arms to reach you anywhere
And like a –
Rubber ball, I’ll come bouncin’ back to you
rubber ball, I’ll come bouncin’ back to you

(Instrumental)

You bounce my heart around (You don’t even put her down)
And like a rubber ball, I come bouncin’ back to you
Rubber ball, I come bouncin’ back to you
Hoo-ah-ooh-ooh.
Bouncy, bouncy … bouncy, bouncy
bouncy, bouncy… bouncy, bouncy
Eee-ah-eee-eee;

I’m like a – rubber band when on my shoulder
you do tap (bouncy, bouncy) (bouncy, bouncy).
Just a rubber band because my heart-strings,
they just snap (bouncy, bouncy) (bouncy, bouncy)
You go and: squeeze me ’til I’m all aflame
(She calls you by some other guy’s name)

But like a rubber ball, I come bouncin’ back to you
Rubber ball, I come bouncin’ back to you
rubber ball, I’ll come bouncin’ back to you
rubber ball, I’ll come bouncin’ back to you
rubber ball, I’ll come bouncin’ back to you
rubber ball, etc … Fade out (repeated 7 times).

Feeling Good – Nina Simone

Haven’t posted a good tune so here is a particularly good one

and the (good) words released

Nina Simone Feeling Good Lyrics

Songwriters: LESLIE BRICUSSE, ANTHONY NEWLEY

Birds flying high you know how I feel
Sun in the sky you know how I feel
Breeze driftin’ on by you know how I feel

(refrain:)x2
It’s a new dawn
It’s a new day
It’s a new life
For me
And I’m feeling good

Fish in the sea you know how I feel
River running free you know how I feel
Blossom on the tree you know how I feel

(refrain)

Dragonfly out in the sun you know what I mean, don’t you know
Butterflies all havin’ fun you know what I mean
Sleep in peace when day is done
That’s what I mean

And this old world is a new world
And a bold world
For me

Stars when you shine you know how I feel
Scent of the pine you know how I feel
Oh freedom is mine
And I know how I feel

(refrain)

 

One is

One is bleak
and San grail
like the last golden cup
of youth
did you want to love, live
or even tell me more
holy blood, Grail
a lie a hoax
One is bleak dark
a lie, resting in a storm
did you prepare
my diminishing
entitlement

too that man in black
may he ever wear
a suit of rainbows
where I see a shade
of purple that I have
never seen
before

Last Lazarus

Here I am again
a last Lazarus trading whiskey
for air
bartering blood and a good name
I General, I Custer
swapping reason
for a waking death
for my soul has died
while you have returned
I say soul, but I don’t mean
that vague thing
we mention in half facts
I refer to the inner me
you half healed
but here I am again
a last Lazarus trading whiskey
for air
Jesus will not come and raise me
God did not do this
I General, I Custer
but the Bighorn ended
and I live in an obscure
town, where my soul
has grown too thin
and cries
for the last Lazarus

To finally arise

Cooking drunk

When you can still
cook a MEAL
drunk, you have to ask
you have to confess
your in trouble
as you should
not be able to
you should be
sleeping
after 2 liters of cider
but then to finish your meal
and start on 4 more cans

But in the UK
we love to wait
in line even
for help

I not waiting
I will have to help
myself
my future demands
it, but for now
I cook drunk
I still have to
maintain
a life

And promise my
feet wont go walking
too far

Shell

I imagine some crow
had its way and a meal
leaving an empty shell
forlorn on the ground
empty’d of much life
but still an atractive
discovery in my eye

Not from The Us of A

Not from the US of A
but this is fucking
magic

and if your offended
fuck off and get
a brown paperbag
of hyperventerlation

http://www.ericgarland.co/2012/11/09/letter-to-a-future-republican-strategist-regarding-white-people/

😀 f in loving this post

Masters of war

 

and the very good words released from the song

“Masters Of War” Bob Dylan

Come you masters of war
You that build all the guns
You that build the death planes
You that build all the bombs
You that hide behind walls
You that hide behind desks
I just want you to know
I can see through your masks.

You that never done nothin’
But build to destroy
You play with my world
Like it’s your little toy
You put a gun in my hand
And you hide from my eyes
And you turn and run farther
When the fast bullets fly.

Like Judas of old
You lie and deceive
A world war can be won
You want me to believe
But I see through your eyes
And I see through your brain
Like I see through the water
That runs down my drain.

You fasten all the triggers
For the others to fire
Then you set back and watch
When the death count gets higher
You hide in your mansion’
As young people’s blood
Flows out of their bodies
And is buried in the mud.

You’ve thrown the worst fear
That can ever be hurled
Fear to bring children
Into the world
For threatening my baby
Unborn and unnamed
You ain’t worth the blood
That runs in your veins.

How much do I know
To talk out of turn
You might say that I’m young
You might say I’m unlearned
But there’s one thing I know
Though I’m younger than you
That even Jesus would never
Forgive what you do.

Let me ask you one question
Is your money that good
Will it buy you forgiveness
Do you think that it could
I think you will find
When your death takes its toll
All the money you made
Will never buy back your soul.

And I hope that you die
And your death’ll come soon
I will follow your casket
In the pale afternoon
And I’ll watch while you’re lowered
Down to your deathbed
And I’ll stand over your grave
‘Til I’m sure that you’re dead.